This blog is completely self-indulgent to make sure I can find the fics that make me feel things. It does not mean that I don’t recommend fics not posted on here.
Summary: You felt him before you even met him. And despite the pain he carried around, his soul was one of the most beautiful you'd ever seen.
A/N: A spur-of-the-moment idea that I simply couldn't ignore. I really hope you guys enjoy it, and yes I'm working on part two of my series with Loki as well. <3
Word count: 6k
Masterlist
The battle had left its mark on everyone, both physically and mentally. All the lives that were lost wouldn't be brought back. But everyone took solace in the fact that Thanos and his army were no longer a threat. And now, it was a time for rebuilding.
Wakanda's grassland was a battlefield. Bodies of both friend and foe lay scattered on the ground. The mourning loomed heavy in the air, you could feel it weighing down on your chest, your throat, and lungs. It was suffocating, prickling into your skin like needles. Yet you still walked, your boots crushing the grass underneath while you avoided stepping on stretched arms and legs, you needed to make sure no one else remained left behind.
A few feet away, the mad titan who once threatened the entire universe lay lifeless on the ground, his head disconnected from his body. For him, you felt no pity.
King T'Challa was both happy and sad to see you and the others leave. Happy, because it meant the end of a war; sad, because of having to say farewell to dear friends. But you, Steve, Natasha, and Banner were needed back in town, back at the Avengers compound; to welcome Tony back on earth, and because Thanos' attack had reverberated in many other places. It seemed like the Avengers were back in the game.
─── ·❆· ───
This morning was a gloomy one. Grey skies peeked behind your curtains in the early hours of the day, maybe it would rain soon. It's been two weeks since the battle, and you were glad to see that most people were recovering; each in their own way, but recovering nonetheless.
You were already up when the clock hit 7:30 AM, holding a warm cup of coffee between your hands, and staring out into the compound's driveway and past the treeline through the big windows of the kitchen. Today would be the day that Thor came back, he'd been helping with the settling of his people in New Asgard until now, but you've heard about him not wanting to be king anymore. You were happy for him, you never did think that a ruler's life suited him anyway—and you missed your friend.
"He gets one chance, Rogers. One chance and that's it." Tony's voice suddenly caught your attention as he stepped into the kitchen, you turned your back to the window so you could watch as your resident Iron Man poured himself a cup of coffee without looking at his mug. Steve was right beside him, his hands on his hips as he sighed quietly, already all too used to Tony's moods.
"Yes, one chance, he proved himself enough by helping us fight against Thanos, I suppose we owe him the benefit of the doubt," Steve agreed, still holding his voice calm.
With a smirk on your lips, you approached your teammates. "What's going on, guys?" You leaned on the kitchen island, taking a sip of your coffee.
Tony ran his tongue over his bottom lip, his expression less than pleased as he took a sip of his own coffee before saying; "point break is bringing his beloved brother to our home." He shrugged, and said in a quieter tone, "Says he changed or something."
"Loki will be staying with us?" You raised an eyebrow. The attack on New York happened before you joined the team, but you were familiar enough with it to be wary of Thor's brother, even if Thor did speak more nicely of him recently. Still, you had never actually met Loki to form your own opinion.
"That's… to be decided," Tony grumbled, shooting a glance toward Steve. "But yes, pretty much. And, by the way, Strange wasn't happy about having reindeer games back in the city either."
"Wow, you guys finally agree on something," you snickered.
Tony mouthed a 'don't' to you, before Steve said; "Strange knows we'll handle it if anything happens, but Thor vouches for him, so…"
You gave Steve a soft smile, and as much as you understood Tony's wariness, you agreed with the Captain. Loki didn't have the best of pasts with the City, but his help in the recent battle was one of many game-changers. He deserved a second chance.
Strangely enough, you found yourself excited to meet the God of Mischief. It was in your nature to analyze people, watch them from afar, and learn about the things they'd rather not say out loud. And someone like Loki, who had both once tried to take over your planet and now helped in saving it, was bound to raise some curiosity.
No more than an hour passed before you heard Thor's strong voice all the way from the living room. A small smile instantly came to your lips as you discarded your book, got up from the couch, and put on your slippers, rushing to the main doors to greet him.
Before you could turn the last corner, however, you came to an abrupt halt. Your breath got caught up in your throat and you had to lean back on the wall for support. Clutching the fabric of your shirt right above your heart, you were glad that this particular hallway was currently empty.
You could hear Thor's voice just around the corner, Tony was there too, but their words were faint and far away. Your vision was suddenly a little blurry, and underneath your palm you could feel your heart beating frantically.
See, this was nothing that hadn't happened before, after all, you are an empath. But a feeling this heavy rarely comes unannounced, unwanted. It briefly reminded you of when you first discovered your power, when you had no control and could pick up on pain, anger, joy, and pleasure that were not your own even if you didn't want to. Yet now, after years of living with it, you had learned to dose your perception of the feelings around you; now, when you weren't willingly focusing, other people's emotions felt more like a gentle whisper, a gush of chilly wind on your skin—something you were able to ignore if you wanted to.
But this overwhelming sadness; this emptiness, and loss, and pain; it came to you with such force that you were not able to block out. Seconds felt like hours, until the surprise of the new feeling passed and you took back control. Whispers of it remained, lurking in your stomach and in the back of your throat, but with a bit of extra focus, you were able to handle it.
And once your mind was finally clear again, it hit you. Who did you catch these feelings from?
You took a step around the corner cautiously, hands buried in your pockets as your eyes roamed your surroundings. There was no one around besides Tony, Thor, and Loki.
You knew it right away. You were familiar with the emotions radiating from Tony and Thor; but him, the raven-haired trickster, he was new, and if you didn't feel empathy for him before, you did now.
Loki held himself immaculately, a straight posture and a serene expression on his face. You had no idea how he did it, how he was able to hold all of those feelings in and still look so well put together; because one glance into his soul and you already felt like crying.
There was a light drizzle falling outside, maybe that's why Loki's black blazer seemed to be shining under the bright lights of the entrance hall. His eyes—bright and ocean-green—were settled on you; the realization got you feeling hyperaware of each movement you made. Even his gaze was heavy.
Thor's booming voice calling your name captured your attention then, he had a big smile on his face and before you knew it he already had your feet off the floor as he held you in a hug.
You laughed against his shoulder, hugging him back just as tight and telling him all about how much you missed him. Still, when you let go, your eyes found Loki's again, he hadn't stopped looking at you once.
─── ·❆· ───
The opinions about Loki's presence in the compound were mixed, but most of your teammates seemed fine with it; truth be told, no one paid much attention to him. As you'd expected, Loki's room was on your floor, because that's where Thor stayed too; as well as Tony, Natasha, and Yelena.
It's been a few days since his arrival, yet you haven't had the opportunity to properly speak with him, alone. But you've been feeling him a lot. Whether it was you subconsciously focusing on him more, or something else, it seemed like your body was more in tune and connected with his than you've ever been with anyone else. You picked up on a few of his emotions even if you weren't actively trying to; you felt his bouts of uneasiness when someone would stare at him for too long, you felt his gentle serenity whenever he'd sit near the windows to read a book, you felt his sparks of joy when people greeted him with a good morning or asked if he'd want coffee; but most of all, you still felt that lingering sadness that followed him everywhere he went, a weight he seemed to be all too used to having around.
In some ways, you felt as if you were invading his privacy, and that bothered you. During the day you tried to keep your mind as busy as you could to keep yourself from feeling him; in the late hours of the night though, when you were trying to sleep, there wasn't much you could do.
You have been tossing and turning in bed for probably about two hours now, drifting in and out of sleep. The crescent moon just outside your window seemed to be taunting you, amused with your misfortune. You scoffed as you glared at the natural satellite—great, now you were arguing with the cosmos.
Loki was having a nightmare. You could tell by the rapid beating of his heart and the cold sweat running down his forehead—your abilities went way beyond simply feeling other people's emotions, but sometimes you wished they wouldn't. It's not the first time that you've felt Loki's restless sleep in the short time he's been here. Your heart ached for him; it got you wanting to alleviate his pain.
But you couldn't do that, so you got up from your bed, put on your fluffy slippers, and made a beeline for the kitchen. The air outside was chilly, biting at your warm skin and making you shiver. At this hour of the night, the compound was completely dark and quiet, a big contrast to how it was when the sun was up. You asked Friday to turn on one of the lights in the kitchen, giving the space a dim-lit look as the single light bled into the adjacent living room.
You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, humming the lyrics of the song stuck in your head as you reached for the upper cabinet to grab a mug so you could make yourself some tea. When you turned around again though, a gasp escaped your mouth and you nearly dropped the mug you were holding. You cursed quietly under your breath, placing a hand over your heart; if you weren't fully awake before, you sure were now. "You scared me," you muttered, trying a small smile.
The reason for your lack of sleep stood before you, with dark green slippers that matched his button-up pajama shirt, and his hair the messier you've ever seen it be. "Sorry, it was not my intention," Loki smirked back at you.
It hit you that this was finally the first time you were alone with him, and you'd been caught off guard. You tapped your mug, opening your lips but no words came out. Loki's eyes remained on you, unwavering, yet his gaze was so… soft, gentle even; his eyebrows weren't creased and he patiently waited for you with his hands in the pockets of his checkered pajama pants. He didn't look like the god you usually saw roaming the halls during the day.
"It's alright. I was just making tea," you said finally, gesturing to your mug, "would you like me to make one for you too?"
Loki's surprise at your offer was so great that you felt it in your bones. What was he expecting you to do?
His lips parted only slightly and he straightened his posture before saying; "I would- yes, I would like that."
You couldn't help the full smile that came to your lips and crinkled the side of your eyes, "great, sit down, it'll be ready in just a moment."
The warm mug between your hands warmed up your skin. It felt nice, sitting like this with Loki; in a quiet kitchen with only you and him, and just the lonely light to your left softly highlighting his features in front of you. It was a peaceful silence, and you couldn't help but check if he felt it too.
The rhythm of his heart was calm, his soul felt light and at ease; not completely, but the most you've ever felt from him.
"Why are you here?" His sultry voice snapped you back to reality.
"Uh- I'm sorry?" You frowned.
"Why are you here, if I may ask?" Loki tilted his head amusedly, his fingers tracing the brim of his mug. "Thor mentioned you had… abilities, but he never specified what they are."
Now it was your turn to be surprised by his curiosity for you. "Well, to put it simply, I'm an empath," you told him.
Loki blinked, once, twice, at your response. He looked at you for a moment before inquiring further; "and to put it completely?"
You smirked then, folding your arms over the table. "I can feel people's emotions, if I want to; their anger, happiness, hesitation, fear. But I can also feel their heartbeats, the blood cursing through their bodies. I can tell when they're lying or telling the truth, if they're tired or hurt. And sometimes, I can influence those emotions," you paused, hesitating for a beat, "bring fear, or… take away pain."
Loki grew tense after learning of what you could do. To be fair, most people did at first, you were used to it. Be he felt different, his heartbeat sped up and stayed that way. He'd put his guard up, and it brought a pang of hurt to your chest.
"Are you always feeling everything then?" He narrowed his eyes.
"Gods, no," you breathed, "at first I did, and it was awful. But with time, I learned to control it." You tried smiling at him, but his eyes were downcast, focused on his mug.
You bit your lower lip in nervousness. Looking past Loki and out the window, you could see the first signs of the sunrise peeking over the horizon, dark skies turning a soft lilac and blue; you'd been here longer than you realized.
When Loki glanced up at you again, his bright eyes still held sparks of that same softness from earlier. He pursed his lips in a smile; "thank you for the tea." And with that, he got up and left, leaving you in the company of the first birds who always sang in the mornings.
─── ·❆· ───
You made Loki nervous. It wasn't a bad kind of nervous, it was the kind that sped up his heart and made his cold hands feel clammy.
Out of everyone in the compound, you were the kindest. You'd always shoot him a smile whenever you'd pass by each other in the hallways; you'd always save a seat for him at the table; you always respected his silence whenever you came into the library and caught him reading his book, saying a quiet hello and nothing more, just sitting on one of the armchairs with your own book and allowing him to enjoy his moment, and more recently, your presence too.
When he'd finally learned of your abilities, he got apprehensive, worried even; that you'd pick up on whatever it was that he felt when he was near you, and it would drive you away.
So far, it hasn't happened yet.
The sun was out today, and with it, so was everyone else. In the spacious backyard of the compound, Steve was in charge of the barbecue, and Tony was in charge of the drinks. Natasha had sunglasses covering her eyes while she and Clint bickered over a game of cards; Yelena was sitting beside her sister at the lunch table, however, she seemed to be on Clint's side of the argument. Thor and Banner were laughing together as they made fun of Steve's cooking skills, who tried to defend himself by saying he wasn't actually done yet. Tony looked like he was trying to convince Bucky to drink a dubious-looking beverage, the latter didn't seem too keen on it.
And Loki watched them from afar, from the living room window of his floor. Thor had asked that he join them downstairs, saying something about how he should start trying to fit in and mingle, instead of just existing in the others' presence. Making friends wasn't Loki's forte; as much as he'd fight not to admit it, he was still working up the courage.
With a long sigh, Loki turned around and made his way to the place where he'd been spending most of his free time.
The compound's library was quite huge. One of the few rooms in the whole facility that had warm colors painting the walls and lacked the modern look; tall wooden shelves held thousands of books, a soft beige carpet covered the floor, and there were armchairs and sofas scattered in corners and in-between shelves creating comfortable, isolated nooks for reading. Loki's favorite spot was a worn armchair that stood near one of the big windows, it was surrounded by books that most people didn't read anymore, and the window itself overlooked the treeline in which the sun hid behind at the end of every day; sometimes as he sat there to read, it reminded him of his room back in Asgard.
Loki walked brushing his fingers over the spine of the old books, watching as dust particles danced in the sunlight. But as he rounded the shelf that led to his spot, he abruptly stopped in his tracks, feet glued to the carpet.
You sat cross-legged on the worn armchair, with a thick book lying in your lap that held all of your attention; the sun was shining right behind you, creating a halo above your head and bathing the strands of your hair in golden. You looked like something out of his favorite tale, more enchanting than all of the Midgard poetry books he's ever read.
It seemed like you two were making a habit of bumping into each other unexpectedly.
Loki gulped, squaring his shoulders. A beat passed, and then two, until you finally noticed him from the corner of your eyes. You looked up at him with your eyebrows softly raised in surprise, a gentle smile lifted the sides of your mouth; "Loki, hi."
"Hello," Loki greeted you slowly, his eyes shifting from the book in your lap to your eyes, "shouldn't you be out with the others, enjoying the sun?"
"Should I?" You narrowed your eyes, lazily closing your book and getting up from the armchair. "Shouldn't you?" You asked then, smirking as you raised an eyebrow and took a step towards him.
Loki's heart stumbled inside his chest, he breathed out a laugh. "I'm not big on hangouts."
You hummed, burying your hands in the pockets of your jeans. "Why is that?"
For a moment, Loki dwelled on whether to be honest or come up with an easy lie. But you were looking up at him with such delicacy, such attention, not a trace of hatred or judgment in your warm eyes. It almost looked as if you cared... about him.
Loki breathed in sharply through his nose, the words rolled off his tongue on their own; "I doubt many of your friends would enjoy my presence there."
You blinked up at him, lips parting before you told him quietly; "I would."
There was a distant burning behind Loki's eyes, his mouth felt dry. No one had ever rendered him completely speechless before, yet now, you had done just that. With his silence, you avoided his eyes and ran your tongue over your bottom lip in a motion that he couldn't help but follow.
"And..." You continued, voice sweet as honey, traveling between the bookshelves in the secluded library, "We'll never know if we don't try, right?"
The way you referred to you and him as 'we' got a foreign feeling blossoming inside Loki's chest, all warm and tingly. When you offered him your hand, so you could guide him downstairs to meet the others, he took it.
─── ·❆· ───
After a full week of taking care of the whole city, Saturday nights were a time for having fun and relaxing; aka movie nights with the team. Everyone sat together in the main living room of the compound, Tony had labeled it 'mandatory bonding day'. The room itself was pretty spacious, dimly lit, with two big comfortable couches and a TV that almost covered the whole wall, and a small kitchen right beside it for easy snacks and drinks.
"Right, I'm thinking... Terminator." Tony suggested as he came from the kitchen with an extra large bowl of popcorn in his arms.
"We saw that one already," Steve complained as he fumbled with the remote.
"There are multiple ones," Tony said, smugly, as he plopped himself on the couch and threw popcorn in his mouth.
Thor, who sat beside you, suddenly perked up with a giddy smile on his face; "oh I've always enjoyed that one who has the girl with the long, magic hair." The god gestured to his own hair.
Tony gaped at him, his fingers holding the popcorn were frozen midair. "Tangled?" He exclaimed then, eyebrows raised, "You wanna watch Tangled? in my house?"
You fought to hide a smile. "Technically it's our house," you quipped, after all, you were to blame for Thor's love for the Disney movie.
"Why don't we just watch both? The night is still young," Yelena finally suggested from her spot by the corner of the couch.
As they continued bickering, your eyes finally caught sight of the one you'd been waiting for.
Loki walked into the living room quietly, his socked feet barely making any noise on the expensive flooring. His gaze found yours before he saw anything else in the room, and a gentle, shy smile appeared on his lips.
You'd grown very close, very fast. Loki had started seeking your presence more and more each passing day; during the mornings he'd wait for you with an extra cup of coffee in hand, during the missions it was already routine that you two were a pair, and during the night you never parted ways without him planting a kiss on your forehead first.
Never in your life had you met someone quite like him, who carried such a bruised heart and still managed to be so loving. It made you wonder if anyone had ever bothered to see how beautiful his soul was, for you had fallen in love with it before you even touched his skin.
You gently patted the vacant seat on your left side, lifting the thin blanket covering your legs so Loki could sit down, and once he did you draped part of it over his legs as well.
"What's today's punishment?" Loki smirked, making himself comfortable beside you. His shoulder flush with yours.
"Stop it, movie nights are nice. I know you secretly enjoy them too," you chuckled, bumping his knee with yours. His proximity raised goosebumps all over your skin, and if you weren't so focused on your own feelings, you would've felt how much Loki's heart was racing as well.
"I only come to these because you do too," Loki mumbled, his eyes focused on the TV and a frown appearing on his eyebrows as the first scenes from Tangled played on the screen.
Your breath caught on your throat. He had said it so casually, so easily. You wondered if he had even realized the weight of his own words. "Right," you whispered, a little breathless.
It didn't take long for the only light in the room to be the one coming from the TV. When Tangled hit the 45-minute mark, Tony was already snoring and Thor had finished two bowls of popcorn. You, however, were wide awake and fully aware of Loki's arm resting on the back of the couch. What a cliche move, you thought to yourself, your cheeks burning hot and biting back a smile.
Loki's face as he watched the movie was nothing short of comical, one would think he was watching a period drama; his lips hovering ever so slightly before he'd scoff at a musical scene, his eyes softening as the romance between Rapunzel and Flynn blossomed, the way he mindlessly played with the ends of your hair. You watched him more than you watched the movie, and you didn't miss the way he froze and gulped when you finally rested your head on his shoulder.
─── ·❆· ───
The day had started out fine; a cold yet sunny morning, your fingers brushing Loki's when he handed you your cup of coffee, no eminent trouble in the city, everything was normal and fine; until it took a turn for the worse.
You didn't hear the fight, you didn't know exactly what caused it, but you felt it immediately. Anger, hurt, and pain were suddenly heavy in the air even through the closed door of your bedroom. As soon as a shiver ran up and down your spine you got up and all but ran outside to chase the somber feeling.
The elevator doors of your floor weren't even fully open yet when Loki busted his way through them, Thor hot on his heels.
"I knew it was a mistake coming here," Loki snapped, his steps fast as he put as much distance between himself and Thor as he could, nearly running straight into you in the process.
"You know what, brother," Thor began, he had stopped walking, standing in the middle of the living room, "Maybe it really was a mistake to bring you here, you don't care about anyone but yourself, it's almost as if you enjoy hurting people, you can't help it. It'll always be like this, that's why you're better off on your own." Thor wasn't shouting, but his words rang loudly in the room; his chest heaving when he stopped speaking.
You had held your breath the entire time, gripping the back of a kitchen stool until your knuckles turned white. Thor was angry, you could feel it even without being near him, but he didn't mean what he had said, not entirely. Thor's emotions were a passing wind on your skin though, for who you really felt, stood just a few feet behind you.
Loki had his back turned to his brother when he spoke, and he didn't turn around after. Even without looking at him, you could feel the way he trembled, unsteady hands closed into tight fists to mask his hurt; he gulped back a sob, and kept on walking to his bedroom without a word.
You could choke with the amount of pain radiating off of Loki; heavy, sickening, all-encompassing pain that you felt so vividly in your skin and bones. You only shot Thor an angry glance and muttered; "Damnit Thor," before turning around hastily. You thought you heard Thor calling after you, but you decided to ignore him, your priorities already set.
You ran after Loki, catching up just before his door slammed shut. Taking a deep breath, you walked into his bedroom and softly closed the door behind you with a click.
You'd never actually been in Loki's room before, so you took a single moment to glance around. The room itself was a little bare, with only the necessities such as a double bed, a dresser, a desk, a small bookshelf, and the door that led to his bathroom. You made a mental note to gift him something to liven up his space; maybe a plant.
Loki had his back turned to you still, both his hands resting on his waist as his head hung low. But you knew he knew it was you there with him, by the simple fact that he was allowing you to stay.
The silence was a heavy one, packed with the electricity of two souls tightly holding onto each other. Loki was trying so hard to keep all his pain in control, his shoulders shaking with each breath he took; but you could feel it as if it was your own.
"Loki," you said his name in nothing but breath, testing the waters. You took half a step toward him as you fidgeted with your hands.
He didn't answer. You weren't expecting him to.
You pursed your lips before saying; "he didn't mean it," your voice was choked and took effort to come out, the back of your eyes already burning, "what Thor said. He- he didn't mean it."
A few beats passed, and then; "doesn't matter if he did." Loki's words cracked in the middle, it was the most broken you'd ever heard him sound. "He's right."
"He's not," you told him in the same heartbeat, not a tint of hesitation in your tone.
Loki turned around, his gaze finally finding yours and there were tears pooling at the bottom lid of his bright eyes. "Yes, he is," he took a single big step toward you, nearly closing the distance between you and him. Loki's lips trembled as he struggled to keep talking; "and why is it that you care? What's in it for you?"
He was hurt, and he was frustrated, and he was angry; you knew that. Still, you couldn't help but be taken aback by his question. What could he even mean by that? Did he really believe that all this time that you'd been dancing around each other's feelings, it wasn't real?
"Loki, I-" you stuttered, not knowing how to say it without baring your heart in the process. Your hesitation got Loki avoiding his eyes from yours, and you forced yourself to go on. "There's nothing 'in it for me' I just... care about you."
Still waiting for the other shoe to drop, Loki softly shook his head, scoffing. His tears were a blink away from spilling, he felt as if barbed wire was wrapped around his throat, and his heart threatened to jump from his chest and straight into your hands.
It scared him. How easily you could make his walls crumble like paper in the rain. He flinched slightly when he felt the ghost of your touch on his cheek, blinking multiple times when your thumb brushed away a single tear rolling down his cheek. You touched him as if he were porcelain, and yet it still broke him.
"Is it that hard to believe that you're important to me?" You asked then, voice nothing but a whisper in the short space separating your bodies. With your hand still holding his cheek, you forced his eyes back on yours. "You have a good heart, Loki. I just wish you could see it the way I do. I wish everyone could see it."
The crooked smile he gave you nearly made your own tears fall. "You don't know what you're talking about, you don't know what I've done," he told you quietly, more than anything, he sounded utterly defeated.
"But I do know," your free hand found one of his then, and you tangled your fingers together loosely, "I might not have been with the Avengers when you attacked New York, but I was still in New York. And I still mean it, you could tell me every single bad thing you've ever done and I'd still tell you how good you are, because I see it. Every single day, Loki. I feel you every single day, and I can feel all this-" Your words caught in your throat and you tasted your tears on your lips. "-All this pain that you carry around and you still choose to be good."
Too many emotions swam behind his eyes for you to put a finger in any of them. But tears were running freely down Loki's cheeks now, pooling against your hand resting on his cheek.
"What did you-" he tried, gasping for air as if he was underwater. This was foreign territory. You had a place in his heart no one else could ever have, he realized, and his heart was beating faster than his mind knew what to do with. "You've been prying into my emotions without me knowing?" He sounded more desperate than annoyed.
"I didn't want to," You explained quickly, "I- I never meant to, but for some reason, I can't block you out." Shrugging weakly, you slowly dropped the hand resting on his cheek, missing the way he glanced down in search of your warmth. "I tried. I really tried."
There was a vulnerability in Loki's eyes you'd never seen before. He looked at you as if he'd just realized what love is. You wondered if you mimicked the same gaze—you sure felt it.
Loki shuffled in his stance. His hand, still holding onto yours, tightened its grip. "I'm-" He avoided your eyes, looking somewhere past your shoulder, "I'm sorry you had to feel all that."
You softened at his words, shaking your head and taking another step forward until your sneakers bumped his shoes. "Wasn't your fault," you whispered.
Loki gulped back a sob after you spoke, and that was the last straw for you to let go of his hand and pull his body to yours in an embrace.
He melted into you.
Loki's fingers dug into the fabric of your shirt and he buried his head against your shoulder—you soon felt it becoming damp, yet you only hugged him tighter. With the desperation he was holding you with, you wondered when was the last time someone had held him.
The soft sobs escaping him were muffled against you. And you couldn't help but stroke his back, the tips of your fingers burying into his very soul. "I'm sorry you had to go through all of this alone." You spoke near his ear, feeling the goosebumps that raised on his skin. "You never deserved it," you promised.
You weren't sure how much time passed, you stayed there for as long as Loki needed you to. When he eventually pulled away, he didn't go far, his hands kept holding your body close to him as if he was afraid you'd leave if he let go.
His bright eyes didn't hold a storm anymore, they were more like a calm sea. A soft frown etched itself into his eyebrows, "did you… take away my pain?"
You chuckled quietly, "No, I can't take away people's emotions." You lifted a hand until your fingertips could brush the skin on his forehead, "But I can make them lighter." You traced an invisible line over his eyebrow and until you reached his cheekbone, "Make the weight just a little bit easier to carry."
Loki leaned into your touch, almost closing his eyes. His hands that rested on your back traced your spine and pulled you closer. "Darling, you've been making it easier ever since the first day I met you."
⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
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College AU. Bucky, a relationship novice, asks for your help in dating your friend. Unable to say no to him, you agree despite everyone and everything telling you not to. (banner made by QUEEN @sighodinson)
“I want it to be slow, Y/N,” he explained, frowning a little. “Slow and meaningful. Build a foundation, get to know her, maybe let it grow into something serious.”
You had been watching the blue in his eyes from the moment he’d started speaking. There was a conviction in them that made the beating in your chest falter, you knew you could never say no to him. You had to stop yourself from grimacing. “Okay.”
pretty woman, this is me trying || B.B Masterlist ||
Summary: Bucky Barnes does not like to be touched. He’s completely ready to live a distant life and give up when the time is right. Until Stark hires him his own personal pretty woman. Over time, Bucky Barnes begins to learn how to touch again. How to feel again. How to love himself again.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female SexWorker!Reader
Trope(s): Holiday Fanfic 🎄 ; Slow-Burn ; Friends to Lovers
Based on the Song(s): sweet nothing by Taylor Swift and Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls
Word Count: 37,000+
This series is completed. Also read on AO3.
Warnings: This fanfiction deals with heavy and rough topics such as: consensual sex work, sexual themes and discussions, panic attacks, detailed sexual content, and past sexual and emotional abuse (caused by Hydra). This work is strictly 18+ only and is purely fanfiction.
Author’s Note: This holiday series is a lot more serious and heavy than The Warmth of Winter, but it’s what was in my head. I literally wrote it in 3 days. Oops. I hope it’s good.
Bucky has the biggest crush on you but he’s scared a humiliating conversation will ruin his chances
Warnings: Fluff, vague mentions of sex
Masterlist
୨⠀♡⠀୧
“A player? Huh now?” You smirked.
“Oh please tell me more Rogers.”
Steve blissfully continued, unaware of Bucky’s strained neck and vigorous hand movements telling him to cut it out.
His eyes brightened with excitement, happy to continue the tales of his best friends’ antics.
“Used to have girls on each arm wherever he went. They just flocked to him like birds to a tree. Oh, and remember that old car you had, Buck?”
“No I do not,” Bucky gritted. “How about we change the–”
“What was it? A Cadillac? Buick? All I know is Buck had a new girl ridin’ in that front seat every weekend. Probably taking them to that lookout point and—”
He’d been teasing you ever since he arrived at the tower, and it was clear that you had absolutely no idea why. Every time he’d comment on your beauty or your attire, he was met with widened eyes followed by delighted little giggles, sounds so pure and melodic that they made his heartbeat sound like a waltz. Nothing more, nothing different. You’d brush it off like it was just a comment, nothing over a compliment. You didn’t see the intention behind his words, the way his eyes seemed to follow you wherever you went.
And then one day, he understood why.
He understood it because he saw the way your eyes lit up as the Sargent made his way into the living room, duffle bag in his hand after having spent the last five months on a mission.
Summary: At first you’re confused by Bucky’s choice of gift for you, until you look a little deeper.
Warnings: this is meant to be a general holiday gift exchange fic and I’ve tried to make it as holiday neutral as possible but please let me know if I’ve missed something, a little light angst at the start cause it’s me, but other than that just fluff
Word count: 717
A/N: banners by @vase-of-lilies, dividers by @firefly-graphics. I haven’t written in over a month cause work has been insanely hectic so please be kind, I’m a little rusty 💜
Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library
It was clearly a book.
Bucky’s untidy, and sticky tape littered gift wrapping did nothing to hide the size, shape or pliant feel of the present. You had been gifted enough novels in your life to know there was indeed a paperback book underneath the holiday themed wrapping paper.
And as reading was one of your favourite pastimes, you were excited at the prospect of having a new story to absorb. A complex world with compelling characters you could fall in love with for the first time, the possibility of finding a new author with a fresh and unique style that would capture your intrigue to delve down a rabbit hole of their publications.
As you unwrapped the gift, you were met with extremely familiar cover art. One that had become your greatest source of comfort, an intricate world you loved to get lost in and one you frequently returned to when times were at their toughest. These particular set of words felt like a warm and protective embrace, one that you could alway rely on being there for you when you needed solace.
You chuckled nervously, unsure why he gifted you a copy of your favourite book, one that was clearly secondhand if the crack in the spine was anything to go by.
You already owned a copy that was extremely well loved, and you knew it wasn’t a first edition based on the cover age, so it puzzled you as to why he thought this would be the perfect gift he had teased in the lead up to the holiday.
Bucky knew this was your favourite book, he had listened for hours as you dissected apart the themes, your favourite scenes, the character you identified with most and how their love interest would go to the ends of the world to protect them.
Your heart sank - had he truly not been paying attention all that time?
Perhaps you were being too harsh, maybe he was just one of those people that was terrible at giving gifts.
Every interaction with Bucky always felt as though he knew you like the back of his hand, that he could read how you were feeling as if you were his favourite book.
You smiled at him, trying to avoid that awkward exchange of pretending you liked the gift when in reality it was something you already owned, but he was already on the offence, knowing you well enough to tell you were attempting (and failing) at hiding your true reaction.
“Open it.” He chuckled, as if to say ‘give me a little credit, there’s more to it than that’.
Once you flipped to the first page it dawned on you what Bucky had actually done. Scrawled in the margins of the page was his own handwriting, having underlined certain lines and scribbled annotations beside them.
Flicking through each page his handwriting gradually became messier, but the commentary didn’t abate. And when you finally reached the chapters you loved most, you could tell he had been paying attention during all your rants because his comments included ‘I see your point about…’ and ‘I can see why you adore this part so much’.
Lost in your own little world, you could hear Bucky’s voice in your head as you read his annotations, his chuckle when he underlined certain phrases and wrote ‘this reminded me of you’. The way your heart swelled in that moment could rival when the grinch's heart grew three sizes.
It was the most extensive love letter you had ever received, the person you loved most in the world providing you with his intimate thoughts on a book you treasured with your whole heart. Every time you picked up that book you would never be alone, Bucky would now forever be reading it alongside you.
Tightly clutching the book close to your chest, you finally looked up at Bucky with teary eyes to find his own softly gazing at you, brimming with affection.
“I don’t have any words except thank you. I love it.” Your throat felt dry, though a tear slipped down your cheek. Bucky reached up and carefully wiped it away.
“And I love you.”
Next year you’re really going to have to up your gift giving game if you’re going to outdo him.
Summary: You'd grown up chasing after your brother and his best friend. Now that they've both returned from war, it seems Bucky's the one finally chasing after you.
Warnings: Age gaps, a brief scene of drunken pushiness in relation to sex [not by or towards bucky], language. I think that’s all!
Notes: This is an older story I've never shared on tumblr. I've had to split this story into 3 parts because of tumblrs text post limits rip, but it was originally a oneshot. the reader is mixed race and only Steve's half sister she is also named. Comments and reviews are more than welcome!
Summary: Bucky has been a bit off lately and Steve is growing concerned: he asks Wanda to take a peek at his thoughts and is surprised at what she finds.
Word Count: 2.8k
Pairings: Bucky x Reader
Warnings: sexual themes, swearing
Masterlist
“You want me to, what?”
Steve bit his bottom lip, his head tilted down as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Look — I know how bad that sounds. Normally I wouldn’t ask you to do this but I’m worried about him. Buck has been doing really well since he got back from Wakanda, but now… something’s off.”
Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, nodding slowly. She agreed; he had been recovering well, it was noticeable. Bucky had only been here for a couple months but he was adjusting nicely; getting comfortable with the routine, getting friendly with the team, getting back to being Bucky again.
“Did something happen? Like — a bad day, or a trigger?” Wanda asked. She recounted the last time Barnes was in the field. “Wasn’t his last mission a success?”
He shook his head, thinking of the mission report Bucky had made.
“Not that I can think of—and yeah it was. Couldn’t have been that.”
He hadn’t had any run ins with the agents, no one reported any issues. Bucky was clear on all accounts; so what was going on?
“He just seems out of it,” Steve continued, “Like he’s somewhere else. And he’s jumpy. That isn’t like him, he’s a soldier for God’s sake. He’s got some steel in there.”
Steve tapped his head for effect, “Ya’ know?”
Wanda puffed out her cheeks, she didn’t feel right about reading Bucky’s mind but Steve was right. Bucky had seemed a little distant lately—he was never present in the moment. Steve was only asking out of the goodness of his heart. Wanda wanted what was best for the team and finding out what was messing with Barnes was part of that.
She pursed her lips as she stared at the super soldier. “Just once, that’s all?”
Steve nodded eagerly, “Yes! Just once to see what’s on his mind, that’s it. I just—I need something to work with, he won’t give me anything.”
Wanda understood, if Bucky wouldn’t talk to Steve about what was bothering him then it had to be serious.
Wanda weighed her options: do it and you’ve completely violated someone’s privacy, DON’T do it and have Steve continue begging you with those big blue eyes…
summary // bucky is in louisiana with sam when he meets you, one of sam’s close friends, and immediately gets along with you. (bucky x fem!reader)
words // 3.5k
warnings // it’s fluff! some tiny insecure bucky but that’s about it. sam calls reader bubbles a couple times. use of y/n.
notes // 💞
》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《
Bucky enjoyed Louisiana.
He enjoys being with Sam and his family in Louisiana. It’s slow and relaxed and everybody in town is so charming that he finds himself settling in easily.
There’s a level of trust Sam shows Bucky allowing him to help with the family boat and while he hadn’t said it, he did appreciate Sam’s unending kindness.
Perhaps Bucky has found the beginnings of a new home in Sam Wilson. A friendship based on respect and love helped Bucky. He was slowly but surely rebuilding himself into a better man.
“Word on the street is Sam Wilson was back in town.” A voice calls out from above the two men. Bucky looks at Sam and finds him smiling and shaking his head. There’s footsteps and then you’re standing in the doorway with a smirk. “I just had to see for myself.”
Sam lets go of the wrench in his hand and moves to meet you at the top of the stairs. Bucky watches curiously as Sam hugs you tightly. He had never mentioned a girlfriend, although Bucky wasn't particularly forthcoming about his personal life either.
“Hey, Bubbles.” Bucky scrunches his nose at the nickname and you roll your eyes and shove Sam off of you.
He laughs heartily clutching his stomach. “The nickname wasn’t funny in the seventh grade and it’s not funny now.”
Sam presses a kiss to your head and Bucky clears his throat. He feels like he’s interrupting a personal moment, but your smile is turned on him and then Bucky freezes because that’s a beautiful smile.
“Who’s your friend?” You nudge Sam with your elbow but your stare doesn’t waver. Bucky smiles nervously before lifting his hand up in an awkward wave.
“Bucky.” He introduces. You nod slowly. “Barnes.” He adds on and you laugh at him making Bucky deflate a little.
“Y/N.” You respond easily. “And don’t call me Bubbles, I hate it.” Your glare and he nods. “I just came to see if the rumors were true.” You shift your focus back to Sam. “I just couldn’t believe Sam Wilson was here, working on the boat, without telling me.”
Sam scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Wasn’t sure how long I was gonna be here.”
You purse your lips and Bucky thinks that wasn’t the right thing to say. He’s so curious about what your relationship is because he can’t tell if it’s just friends or dating or maybe even exes. You’re affectionate and comfortable with one another, that much is obvious in the few seconds Bucky has been able to observe.
“Even if you were here for a day, I would like to see you.” You punch his shoulder. “But whatever, I’m not gonna hold a grudge.”
There’s a moment of silence between the three of you before you shrug. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you tonight, Sarah invited me for dinner.”
You give a quick hug to Sam before waving goodbye Bucky. He waves back with a smile and watches as you walk away.
He doesn’t even realize Sam’s staring at him until the man clears his throat. Bucky shuffles and adamantly ignores the fire he feels burning at his cheeks. “Who’s that?” He asks in a faux nonchalant tone.
Sam shakes his head and laughs. “We grew up together. Went to prom and all that.” Bucky nods and tries to think of how to ask his next question, but Sam beats him to it. “Not as my girlfriend or anything. She’s like a bonus sister.”
Bucky nods and looks back down at the pipe they had been working on. “Cool… We gonna finish this?”
Sam snorts, but Bucky can hear his footsteps come back down the stairs. “Let’s get it done. I just know Sarah’s gonna make something great for dinner if Y/N’s coming and I’m starving.”
Bucky nods, excited for some home cooked food. And maybe seeing more of your smile.
》
Bucky sits next to you at dinner. The kids across from the two of you with Sam and Sarah at the ends of the table.
He notices your eyes trail over the black and gold of his arm and tries to not to blush. “How’d this happen?” You nod to it after a moment of silence.
Bucky turns to you at the same moment Sam’s head shoots up to look at you. “Bubbles.” He hisses your nickname like you’re a child with their hand in the cookie jar.
“Sam.” You hiss back, eyes narrowed at the nickname. Bucky wonders if Sam would ever call you by your first name. “It’s okay.” He nods to Sam.
Bucky is sure that the kids sitting across from him had been wondering too, if Sam hadn’t already told them. He takes a sip of his beer before deciding on sharing a condensed version
“Lost it when I fell off a train in 1945.” He shrugs. You look him up and down. “Got this arm a few years ago.”
It’s silent as you process his words and your eyes move back to stare at the arm. His fingers twitch and your eyes snap to them.
“You don’t look like you fell off a train in 1945. You don’t even look forty.” You say skeptically. Sam runs a hand over his face while the kids laugh.
“Just eat.” Sam orders. “You don’t need to ask him all these questions. It’s rude.”
You turn to your food and roll your eyes at Sam. “I asked one question.” Then your eyes move to Bucky again and you smile apologetically. “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable though. I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “It’s cool. You can just google me for all the answers anyways. I’m pretty sure the Smithsonian has a webpage on me.”
You snort. “That’s a subtle brag.”
Bucky feels his cheeks flush and shakes his head. “No. I just meant… like, Howling Commandos and Steve-“
“She’s just messing with you, man.” Sam laughs as he reaches across the table for a biscuit. “She knows who you are.”
Bucky looks back at you and finds the teasing smile on your face. He flushes red and that only makes you laugh too. Bucky presses his lips together and nods slowly. “Nice.”
“Hey.” You nudge him with your elbow. “If it helps, I think you look pretty good for someone who fell off of a train, lost an arm, was brainwashed for decades and then fought an army of Titans.”
Sam’s shaking his head and Sarah is just staring at you with wide eyes, but Bucky’s lips quark up as he tries not to laugh. “Thanks.” His eyes move over you. “You look pretty good for someone who’s friends with Sam.”
“Hey!” Sam cuts in defensively. “You know, most people think I’m cool.” You and Bucky smirk at each other before both turning to Sam with open mouths, ready to tease him. “Nevermind.”
Bucky can’t help but watch as you throw your head back and let out one of the most beautiful laughs he’s ever heard.
》
“Boys!” You call from the dock with a bright smile. Bucky spins so fast he thinks he’s got whiplash until he sees your happy face. You’ve got your sunglasses hooked in the collar of your t-shirt and a tray of iced coffees in your hands. “I know I’m late, but I come with some refreshments.”
Sam scoffs from next to Bucky. “Coffee isn’t really all that good for rehydration.”
Your smile drops for a millisecond before you turn your attention to Bucky. He gestures awkwardly for a moment before his right hand lands on his hip and his left hand waves. “I like coffee.” He blurts.
You bite down a smile as Bucky ignores the blush he knows is on his cheeks. Maybe it’ll just pass off as a sunburn, or heat exhaustion.
“See, Sam.” You smile victoriously. “Bucky appreciates my gifts.”
Sam scoffs and Bucky just stares at you avoiding Sam’s glare. “He won’t when he tastes the sugar monstrosity you’ve probably brought him.”
You pout and step closer to the boat. You shakily try to step onto deck, but stumble at the last minute. Bucky’s hands shoot out to steady your waist and you look at him with a shy smile and grateful eyes.
“Thank you, Bucky.” You say softly as he helps you step onto the boat deck steadily. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got you what I drink.”
You lift one of the iced drinks out of the carrier. Sam was right, it looks like a sugared disaster, more cream than coffee; Bucky has to force himself not to scrunch his nose up at the drink.
“Thank you.” Bucky takes the coffee from you and stares down at it. You hand one over to Sam and then finally pull your own out.
“If...If you don’t like it, don’t even worry.” You say as the three of you move back to the part of the deck the boys had been working on all morning.
Bucky takes a sip and well, it’s not awful. Nor is it even that bad. Definitely more sugar than he was used to, but he needed to get out of his comfort zone anyways.
“I like it.” He states. “I’d like anything you give me.” He smirks as you look down at your feet nervously. “You’ll have to tell me what you order so I know.”
Your smile brightens and you nod excitedly, pulling your phone out. “Give me your number, I’ll text it to you.”
“You can just write it down.” Sam says with a teasing smirk when Bucky looks up and glares over your shoulder. “I mean-“
“Ignore him.” You roll your eyes and hold the phone out, the contact page already cued up. As Bucky takes the phone and begins to type his number in, you spin around to face Sam. “I’m trying to make friends here, Wilson. Stop trying to discourage it because you’re afraid he and I could lead to world destruction together.”
Sam laughs loudly and Bucky hands the phone back to you. “I’m not worried about the world as much, I'm worried about me. I can already tell you two will be a pain in my ass together.”
You glance at Bucky and wink before slipping the phone back into your pocket. “Stop stalling Sam, we’ve got work to do.” You scoff as you begin to pull out tools.
Bucky looks at Sam with a smirk. “Yeah, Sam. We’re trying to get some work done while you’re just standing there.” Bucky sturdies the piece you had begun screwing in with his left hand.
Sam sighs and returns to his earlier position. “I’m so glad you two have met.” He mutters sarcastically.
》
The shield slips onto Bucky’s arm easily. “Looking good!” You wolf whistle as you make your way towards the boys in Sarah’s yard.
Sam rolls his eyes, but Bucky puffs his chest out a little and smiles. “Hey!” He says as you come to a stop in front of them.
Bucky’s eyes trail over your figure. “Hey. I heard you were leaving today.” Your attention is solely on Bucky as Sam stands beside him with a knowing smile.
He nods apologetically. “I’ve got some stuff to do back home in Brooklyn. I uh-“ He looks down at his boots. “You have my number. I would love to keep in touch.”
You bite down on your lip as you nod. “Of course! Anybody who can handle Sam is someone I want in my life.”
“Are you two just gonna make fun of me everytime you’re together? Because I’ll cut this off right now.” He says jokingly.
You rock back and forth on your feet nervously before finally talking. “I’ll let you two get back to it. I just wanted to say bye!” You pull Sam into a tight hug before turning to Bucky. “Um, I’ll see you later. I hope?”
He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! Yeah, I mean. I hope so too.” He stands awkwardly in front of you, unsure of if he should hug you or just settle for a handshake.
Your hands land on his shoulders as you lift yourself onto your tippy toes and press a kiss to his cheek. His cheeks are burning red by the time you pull away and wonders if you’re as nervous as he is. “I’ll see you around, Bucky.” You say sweetly before spinning on your heel and walking off.
Bucky watches you go with soft eyes as Sam just stares at him incredulously.
》
Bucky doesn’t get to see much of you the next couple weeks, but he hears from you all the time. Text messages telling him to have a good day. Photos of animals you see around your hometown. Photos of you and your family or friends.
It always makes his day and you never seem to mind if it takes him a long time to reply.
“You gonna come down?” Sam asks as he and Bucky walk through the empty streets of Brooklyn. “Y/N has been asking about you. When you’ll be in Louisiana again.”
Bucky shrugs. “I don’t know. I... I might stay up here.” Bucky answers quietly. He wanted to see you. You had easily become one of his favorite people to talk to, even if you had barely seen each other in person.
Sam snorts. “Come on. The boys want to see you. Sarah. We all loved having you around.” He bumps his shoulder into Bucky’s.
“I won’t be intruding?” Bucky asks softly.
Sam shakes his head. “You know that you won’t, Bucky. I’m not gonna force your hand, but I know she would like to see you as much as you would her.”
“Really?” Bucky tries not to sound too excited by the idea of you asking Sam about Bucky and when he’d be back in Louisiana.
Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeah. She asks about you. Just… Come down for a few days?”
Bucky nods slowly. “Yeah… Okay. I will.”
》
The dock is packed with people. Bucky smiles at the laughter and cheerful screams of the people around him. Crowds weren’t normally his thing, but this town of people loved each other so much he couldn't help but relish in the warmth.
“Bucky! Bucky!” He slips his sunglasses off as Sam’s nephews come rushing towards him excitedly. They throw fake punches and kicks that Bucky dodges before they lead him to the food table.
He places his cake on the edge and stops to look around. He knows he’s searching for you, but he can at least try to be as nonchalant as possible about it.
“You went all out for your dish, huh?” Your voice makes him spin around. You’re behind him with crossed arms and an amused smile on your face. The sun is casting such a beautiful light over you that Bucky is speechless for a moment.
Bucky shrugs. “I didn’t… I’m not much of a chef and I didn’t want to come empty handed.” He explains sheepishly.
You shake your head before moving forward and wrapping your arms around his neck. Bucky immediately responds and wraps his arms around you tightly.
“I’m so happy you came down again.” You whisper to him and pull back to look at him. He smiles sweetly at you. “Me too. It’s nice to see you again.”
You pull completely away, but slide your arm through his and begin to walk with him. “Come meet everyone. I’ve been talking about you non-stop, everyone is so excited to meet you.”
You pull him around and introduce him to friends and family. Your arm never leaves his and that makes Bucky feel extremely warm on the inside. He’s positive he’s going to melt by the time you’re pulling him towards the food.
“Hey!” Sam is the last person you and Bucky find. He’s sitting with Sarah and his nephews as they all eat. “Sit! I’m sure you’re tired of introducing your boyfriend to everyone.”
You and Bucky look away from each other nervously as you take your seats. “Shut up, Sam.” You hiss as you take your seat next to him.
Sam rolls his eyes as he hands over food to you and Bucky. It’s not awkward, but everytime you and Bucky make eye contact he feels his cheeks get warm and you look away with a nervous smile.
“I should head out.” You finally say, picking up the plate in front of you to throw it away on your way out. “Thanks for all this, Sam. Sarah. It was so great to see everyone again.” They nod with bright smiles and your attention focuses on Bucky. “Will you be staying for a while?”
He shrugs, unsure of what to say. “I…I think so. Yeah.” You nod slowly and stand in front of him for a moment like you’re waiting for something before sighing. “Well, I’ll see you later.” You wave before turning and beginning to walk away.
Bucky watches you for a few seconds before turning back to look at the table. Everybody is staring at him with poorly concealed smirks.
“What?” He asks defensively. He takes a sip of his water and they continue to just stare. “Stop staring at me. It’s weird.”
“You better go after her!” Sam shoves his shoulder which makes Bucky choke a little on the water. “She just waited for you to walk her home!”
Bucky begins shaking his head vehemently. “No. No way! She was saying goodbye. To all of us.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Bucky!” Sarah chimes in. “She likes you! She literally introduced you to everyone she cares about today!” There’s a chorus of yeahs from Sam and the boys that has Bucky glaring playfully at them.
“Really? She wanted me to walk her home?” He asks Sam quietly. Sam scoffs. “Yeah, man. So you better start hustling to catch up with her!”
“Shit!” He pushes himself off of the bench. “Okay! I’ll see you guys later!” He calls out with a hasty wave before jogging away from the table.
You can’t have made it far, but if you’ve already left the dock entirely there’s no way he’ll find you. He had no clue where you live or even what direction he would have to go in to find you.
He stops at the entrance of the dock and looks around while huffing out breaths. His eyes catch on your sundress and he smiles. “Y/N!” He calls out, jogging to catch up with you.
“Hey! Wait up!” You pause and turn around to face him. Your eyes light up but you don’t say anything to him as he comes to a stop beside you. “Let me walk you home?” He asks nervously.
Surprise crosses your features before an excited smile takes place. “Okay.” You say softly. “I would love that.” You wrap your hand around his bicep and step closer as the two of you begin to walk.
Bucky appreciates that you seem to be comfortable with talking because the entire twenty minute walk passes quickly with your stories and jokes. By the time the two of you have reached your front door Bucky is trying to come up with a reason to go around the block one more time.
“Thank you for walking me home, Buck.” You say quietly. You cross your arms over your stomach and run one hand up and down the opposite arm. Bucky smiles at you as you speak. “I had a nice time talking to you.”
Bucky stuffs his hands into his pockets and nods. “Me too. I enjoy talking to you. You’re a breath of fresh air.” He admits. It was nice to talk to somebody who wasn’t a part of his old life, who was completely new and who only knew this him, not Bucky from the forties or the winter soldier. Maybe his therapist had been right about needing to talk to more people.
You bite your lip and look off to the side before your eyes find his again. “Thank you. You’re really sweet.”
“Well, I’ll let you go.” Bucky takes a step back from you and your house. The two of you watch one another and Bucky knows he should say something. Ask you on a date. Tell you you’re pretty. He just can’t get the words out.
“Oh, Bucky.” You sigh as your hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him back into you. His left hand immediately lands on your waist in order to steady himself. Before he can apologize or pull it away, you’re leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
He doesn’t respond, unable to with how quickly you lean in and pull away, but you’re smiling sweetly at him. “Ask me out.” You demand softly.
Bucky chuckles. “Do you… Would you want to go on a date with me?” He asks, still a little nervous.
“I would love to.” You wrap your arms around his neck and Bucky lifts his other hand to rest on your waist too. “I can take you to some of my favorite places around town.” You offer and Bucky nods quickly.
Bucky enjoyed Louisiana.
He thinks he may have finally found a home outside of Brooklyn, which was a once upon a memory. Somewhere clean of Steve and a life Bucky would never get back. Somewhere with Sam forging a bond of brotherhood and you building something new with him too.
》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《
notes // i don’t know how some of you write only on your phones it stresses me out so much kudos to you lol hope you liked this short piece, keep an eye out for my other two requests this week!
reblogs and replies are always appreciated if you enjoyed this!
Summary: Promises, rules and a love so deep it transcends time and distance. The problem is that Izzy and Bucky are ignorant to each other’s feelings. What lengths will they go to to protect the one thing the both cherish above all else - their friendship? Through tumultuous times, misunderstandings, fuck buddy dramas, other relationships, criminal activity, and a whole bunch of emotional hurt… This is their story.
A/N: Bucky x OFC, fuck buddy AU. There are no Avengers, no powers, just a pair of childhood friends pining for each other but destroying what they have as they go. This WIP is going to be looooong.
Warnings: Gratuitous smut, so much smut, did I mention smut? Mutual pining, emotional hurt, NGL I cried writing some of the chapters. Bad language as standard. 18+ only… I can’t stress that enough.
Chapter One +
Chapter Two *
Chapter Three *
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven +
Chapter Eight +
Chapter Nine +
Chapter Ten *
Chapter Eleven *
Chapter Twelve *
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
(still a WIP)
Secondary note: + denotes smut, 18+ only | * denotes hurt/pain, violence, death or content that could disturb or trigger.
Sometimes I’m having a down day and then I think about THAT kissing scene that Seb did and everything is okay again 🥰
Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky x Reader, Bartender!Ari x reader
A/N: Written on my phone. Unbetad.
"Save me," he whispers, frantic and breathy in your ear.
An exasperated smile winds its way across your lips, laughter sitting low in your throat.
"No," you reply, studying the Guinness the handsome bartender Ari, insisted you try. You pick up the cold mug, taking a cautious sniff, the foam makes your nose twitch.
Your eyes meet Ari's amused gaze, his daring wink leaves you a little flustered.
When in Rome-well Ireland- you muse, lifting the glass to your lips. Your eyes immediately water but you don't look away from his stunning blues. His gaze fills with pride and warmth, that has nothing to do with the alcohol burning through you, surges your veins.
Bucky plops his head on your shoulder, watching you swallow.
"Please save me," he pleads with an absolute mournful tone that would fool anyone else.
But you're not anyone. You're his best friend and you know this game of his. He always manages to get himself in trouble no matter where the two of you land. And you get him put off it. So why should your impromptu vacation be any different?
"I think you can take him," you say, a bit of laughter slipping through.
The him in question is the very large boyfriend of the girl Bucky was flirting with moments ago.
"I'll owe you. I'll pay for the next five dinners. And we can go to all the museums. And-" he rushes out, wrapping his arms around you. "Please bubble. I need you."
Ari's been openly listening to your conversation, his curious eyes bounce between you and Bucky, he tosses a stark white dish towel over his shoulder.
"Better hurry up," Ari warns, his accented lilt is more intoxicating than the beer in your hands.
You can see the boyfriend in the reflection of the glasses and bottles lining the bar. He's getting closer and closer. Bucky murmurs another frantic plea. You guess you wont let your best friend get maimed on your first night in Galway. The second night though...
Sighing deeply, you turn on your stool, your knees bumping into Bucky's.
Placing your hands on his cheeks, the grain of his beard brushes across your palms. You can't help but notice how his eyes are a deeper blue than Ari's. More intense.
Shaking off that stray thought you lean in, intending to pretend to kiss Bucky.
You've done this a thousand times. Hands on his face to shield your lips from prying eyes. Keep a reasonable distance. Eyes flutter shut- got to make it look good. Pull back after a mintue or two. And that's it.
Fake a kiss, save a Bucky.
You can only tempt fate so many times though.
As you lean in, you slide across the smooth weathered stool and it tips forward, your hands land on his chest and your lips crash into his. His very soft lips. His very soft lips part and he breathes you in. The kiss is unexpected and tender and oh so real. His hands curve around your jaw, calloused thumbs sway across your cheeks and he tilts your head to the side.
A visceral jolt of something unfathomable, foreign and primal strikes at your core when his tongue slides across yours.
What are you doing?
This is Bucky. He's your best friend- he's- oh, oh he's good.
Bucky deepens the kiss, stealing your breath, you quickly discover you dont need air when you have the taste of him, whiskey tinged and sweet, melting on your tastebuds with every pass of warm tongue in your mouth. This everything you've dreamed it would be. A moan slips past your lips and he inhales it, his own needy sigh following it. Your hands wind across the back of his neck. Needing to be closer. Needing more of him. Needing something you can't put a name too but you know that Bucky can give it to you.
"He's gone," Ari cuts in, just as Bucky is about to pull you onto his lap.
You break away with a nervous laugh. Bucky stares at you, swollen lips parted as if he's ready for another taste of you.
Ari places his elbow on the counter, his hand cups your chin in a gentle dominant embrace and he turns your face towards him.
"Why don't I show you the best parts of my town before you go. Things you won't get anywhere else." He glances at Bucky with a deviant smirk. "And I know a few ways to keep you out of trouble."
Ari pulls back, large hands firmly planted on the counter. "What do you say?"
They gaze at each other and you see the moment they agree on the unspoken question gloating in the air.
Bucky looks at you, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's up to her. I'll do whatever she wants."
"So will I."
And now you're caught between two pairs of lust blow, gorgeous blue eyes, in the middle of a nearly deserted bar.
Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes from her lips, from the frost melting into teardrops on her eyelashes, from her slack face that seemed like the life was being drawn straight out of it with every wavering breath.
Blue lips were supposed to go with twinkling eyes and sticky fingers and half a headache from being in the sun too long.
Warnings: 18+, language, whump (of course–it’s me who’s writing it), violence, injury, angst, mention of disassociation, mentions of prayer and mild religious background, non-sexual nudity, that good old sharing-body-heat trope, fluff
Minors–this is not for you. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Please be discerning. Do not interact.
A/N: Okay, it’s been a bit. Life decided to screw me over a little bit, but we’re here and we’re making the most of it. Special thanks to @fragile-heartt, @dazzlingpoe, @sventeen-daybreak, and some lovely anons for their kind words and fic recs to help me through. If you’ve sent me a request, I promise its on the docket and is coming eventually. If I’ve liked your fic recently, a reblog is likely on your way as well. Much love to you all. 🖤
At least the blood dripping from the lacerations on his hand was warm.
Bucky was certain that the rest of him was fairly warm as well, the serum in his veins hardly struggling against the snow crunching under his feet and the icy flakes thrown with abandon against his face by the chill wind. But his entire being felt numb as he marched through the growing blizzard, stormy eyes never really leaving the fragile bundle in his arms.
He could feel his blood dampening her hip, slowing as it spread down her side. Life dancing from his veins, an offering to pull her along with him. He’d gladly continue to bleed if it warmed her even a little, if it could coerce the blue from her lips and calm the shivers wracking through her body. But he doubted the serum would allow his bleeding to go on much longer.
“C’mon, Y/N,” he pleaded. “Stay with me, doll.”
His only answer was the howl of the wind whipping across his face.
Story summary: Tired of your constant bickering, Sam sends you and Bucky on a mission alone. When the worst possible outcome happens and you’re forced to spend several days together in a small cabin, you finally get to see a different, more pleasurable side to the man whose flesh you’ve always had a thorn in.
Words: 4K
Warnings: Heavy petting 😈
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Day five
Shit, you were freezing now! The cold had reached your bones again and you could no longer swing the heavy axe high enough to cleave the logs all the way through. By your side, Bucky was still moving annoyingly effortlessly around in the cold, his huge arms bulging underneath his thin jacket every time he raised the blade above his head and brought in downwards with a low, inarticulated, stomach-churning grunt.
He had been a tease all day and it was driving you insane from the minute you’d opened your eyes and felt his sculpted body up against yours. Somehow, his t-shirt was more fitted than normally, his long hair softer looking than usual, his scent more captivating in your nostrils than ever before, and every time he locked eyes with you and smiled, he looked so dreamily, you briefly forgot how to breathe. You weren’t much for admitting it, but the exact same desirable feelings that had coursed through your veins last night had been clouding your mind all day, the only frustrating difference being that today, you couldn’t blame it on the rum.
Trying your best to shake off his most recent spine-tingling grunt, you raised the axe high above your head, determined to take your frustration out on the log in front of you, but immediately regretted your movement when your triceps cramped behind your ears.
"Buck," you groaned in defeat and let the axe slip from between your fingers and down into the snow where it landed with a dull thud. "I think we have enough wood for the fire now - can we please go back inside?" you wrapped your arms around your body, desperate for just a little heat as you took notice in the way his gaze immediately found yours.
He was softly staring at you, his cheeks all red from the cold, his hot breath turning into a misty vapour in the air as his chest heaved deeply. With a small pant, he too lowered his axe and brought his arm to his face, slowly wiping his forehead on his sleeve. "You're cold already?" He asked and skirted his piercing gaze down over your body just as you had caught him doing several times during the day.
You did your best to not let his wandering eyes affect you too much, tried not to imagine the feel of his warm hands rubbing over your arms instead of your own, but he was looking so big and burly and incredibly handsome that it was easier said than done.
"Yes, I’m cold,” you chuckled in disbelief at his shocked words, "- aren't you? You have ice crystals in your beard!"
"Huh..." he touched his hand to his bearded chin and gently moved his fingers along the soft stubble lining his sharp jaw while gazing enchantedly at you. Frustrated and slightly turned on, you had to chomp down hard on your tongue to control the whimper that threatened to spring out of your mouth when you wished it was your hand caressing his handsome features. “- hadn't noticed," he muttered and nodded towards your legs with a cute little nose scrunch, "I think you might need a new suit, it's soaked again."
"Yeah, I know," your teeth clattered in the cold as your arms wrapped themselves tighter around your chest to hide away your sensitive and hard nipples, "- now can we please just call it a day? It's been dark for hours!"
"Yeah, sure," Bucky nodded and furrowed his eyebrows, shooting you a concerned look, "I don't want you to freeze..." he mumbled, sitting down his axe in the snow.
"Thanks," you sighed in relief and rapidly scooped up some of the already cleaved logs before hurrying inside the cabin with Bucky following you closely.
You dumped all the wood in a big pile beside the fireplace before quickly rushing over to the sofa where you wrapped a blanket around your shivering body. "Ah shit," your teeth clattered as you threw your body down on the sofa and snuggled against the warm cushions.
"You okay?" Bucky chuckled and sat down next to you with a grin, nodding down towards your soaked ankles.
“Yeah," your teeth kept clattering as you pulled your knees to your chin in a desperate attempt at blocking out his alluring scent that was slowly sneaking up on you. “Just frozen to the core s’all...” you muttered. “How cold do you reckon it is?”
“No clue!” he shook his head as if in slow motion, looking at you with his clear, bright eyes. “Minus twenty or something...?”
“Minus twenty," you repeated in a quiet whisper, the realisation of exactly how cold that was slowly dawning upon you as his eyes discretely travelled over your face, "- can’t believe you’re not freezing in minus twenty!”
“Yeah, it’s unfair...” he smiled, “haven’t really been cold since before the serum. Barely remember what it feels like anymore.”
“You’re lucky!” You muttered and wrapped the blanket closer around you, snuggling further down into the warm cushions, “- I’m always cold.”
“So I noticed," he cocked his head to the side, a captivating smile shortly flickering over his plump lips as he slung his arm over the armrest of the sofa and finally looked away from your face, instead resting his eyes on the flames in front of him. The orange colour from the fire was dancing temptingly across his cheeks, and you thought to yourself that he looked particularly soft and dreamy as he pulled his hair back and casually smiled at nothing in particular.
“So, what do you reckon?” He asked after a peaceful moment, turning his face towards you with a flirtatious glint in his eye, “- are you so cold we have to strip you of your clothes again?” he let out a deep chuckle that made the small happy wrinkles lining his eyes dance merrily above his boyish grin.
You rolled your eyes at his teasing comment but still couldn't hold back the laugh that erupted in your chest, making Bucky look oddly proud of himself. "Yeah, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" you laughed and watched him smirk and shrug playfully.
“Just trying to make sure my favourite girl doesn’t fall ill,” he smiled softly and shifted around on the sofa, turning his upper body slightly towards you as he carefully ran his eyes over your form, taking in the way his words had you squirming uncomfortably in your seat.
You weren’t exactly sure whether he’d done it on purpose or not, but from the position he suddenly occupied, it looked as if he wanted you to come closer, to put your head on his shoulder and snuggle up against him.
At first, you didn’t know whether to accept or not; last night’s extreme sexual tension was still hanging over your head like a thunderstorm, and you were scared it was clouding your judgment, because even though he was looking extremely kissable right now, you didn’t know if you could handle the repercussions of giving in. - On the other hand, however, it felt stupid not to utilise the fact that there was a huge super soldier several degrees hotter than you sitting no more than a foot away.
You didn’t want to get hypothermia…
Thus, after few seconds of going back and forth, you finally decided to accept what you desperately hoped was a silent invitation, using his elevated body temperature as the winning argument of your inner debate.
Carefully, you scooted closer to him until your cold back hit his warm torso, and you pressed your leg firmly up against the thick muscle of his thigh as you closed your eyes and savoured the feeling of the warmth connecting the two of you. “Mmh,” you whimpered softly as you leaned your head backwards, and almost cried at the relief washing over you when Bucky - without hesitation - carefully put his arm around your shoulders, snuggling you a little closer to his chest.
You sat in silence for a while, the weight of Bucky’s arm comfortable around your body, his thumping heart beating fast and heavy against your spine and you thought to yourself that even though you’d been sleeping in almost this exact position for several nights in a row now, it still felt more intimate to be doing it while wide awake.
"Thanks," you said softly after a couple of minutes, already feeling how he had heated you up immensely.
“Don’t mention it,” he gulped softly before letting out a small chuckle that rumbled in his broad chest and settled like a dusty warmth on your cheeks. “- you know," he grinned, "you’re actually doing me a favour. I was getting all cold anyway,” he repeated your words from a few nights ago with a quiet snicker while softly drumming his fingers over your upper arm.
“Alright, alright, don't get smart,” you smiled and pressed the back of your neck against his t-shirt-clad pecs, his homey scent welcome in your nostrils.
“Sorry," he snickered and stopped drumming, instead letting his fingertips slowly drag over your arm giving your elbow a gentle caress, "I just keep playing it on repeat, it was such a sweet gesture…” he muttered slowly and shifted his body a little so he could wrap his arm across your chest, his hand holding you firmly in place, “you're really special, you know that, right? You’ve always been very kind to me,” he said quietly, “-despite my earlier behaviour.”
“Of course," you breathed, feeling your pulse rise quickly as he softly touched you, his whispered words fuzzy in your ear.
He snuggled a little closer to you and carefully found the hem of the blanket that was draped across your body, pushing his big, warm hand underneath the plaid, letting it feel around for a bit before he gently wrapped it around your fingers. The blood was rushing past your ears, your heartbeat pumping in your fingertips, and you went momentarily deaf when he slowly ran his thumb over the back of your small hand, squeezing it slightly and moving a little closer to you.
“Fuck me, you’re cold,” he muttered and cupped your icy fingers, gently trapping them between warm flesh and sleek metal.
Your entire body acted up; his tone of voice alone had your stomach squeeze at your organs, a rubbery shiver rolling over the lower part of your spine as his velvety voice was laced with thick, viscous honey, depleting every sensible thought from your already fuzzy brain. "Come here,” he whispered and put his face close to your ear, the light scratch of his beard welcome and sensual against the skin of your neck, “let me help you heat up, sweetheart…”
Sweetheart.
He had let the pet name slip sensually from his blushed lips on purpose and now he was checking to see your reaction; if you also felt the same electrifying tension crackling between you.
Sweetheart.
You tried not to react, tried not to give into it, but a tsunami of scorching desire washed over you at his words, and you could feel your pulse running completely out of control as he looked down at you, his huge doe eyes soft and beautiful and just oh so blue that you could look at them forever without wanting to look away.
His heart was beating rapidly against your body, his breathing slightly laboured as he slowly blinked and sent you a crooked smile that seemed to heat up the very last bit of your frozen bones. Intimately, you watched as his soft, pink tongue swiped over his buzzing lips and parted them in a flirtatious smirk while his beautiful cerulean eyes travelled down your face, carefully taking in every feature.
"Stop looking at me like that," you whined in a whisper, the words escaping your mouth before you’d had a chance to stop them.
"Like what?" he chuckled and scooted a little closer, his flesh hand squeezing at yours, his eyes with the heavy-hooded eyelids warm on your face as he blinked slowly, sensually.
"Like... that," you gulped with a small, intoxicated smile and nodded towards him, "- like you're thinking about kissing me."
"Well," he drawled out, briefly looking down at your lips before his eyes skirted upwards and found yours again, "...what if that's exactly what I'm thinking about?" he carefully leaned closer and ran his index finger over your thigh, enjoying how you gave out a cute little whimper that you weren't able to hold back as his strong jaw was no more than a few inches away. "Because I really - really - do want to kiss you right now, doll," he breathed slowly and danced his fingers over your thigh, his fingertips warm against the fabric of your suit, his scent more intoxicating than ever as a shiver crawled up your spine. “It’s all I can think about,” he whispered softly and dipped his hand down to your inner thigh, moving his bearded chin along your throat. “You’ve been driving me crazy all day.”
You whimpered slightly at his hushed words, not sure if you wanted to disappear down into the cracks between the soft cushions or throw yourself into his arms, not a care in the world for the consequences.
Slowly, Bucky leaned forwards, his enticing lips inching nearer and nearer your face.
You couldn't drag your eyes away from him. He was so beautiful, and he was looking at you with such lust! Such hunger!
Completely mesmerised by the desire radiating from him, you were completely swept away, unable deny yourself the pleasure of finally feeling his softness in your mouth, his manhood pressed up against you. You wanted to kiss him!
Fuck, you had to!! Screw the consequences!
He ghosted his lips on top of yours a few seconds, his warm breath brushing over the thin skin of your parted lips, and you suddenly hated that he stopped moving when all you wanted was for him to douse the fire in the bottom of your stomach and kiss you like there was no tomorrow.
“Sweetheart," he whispered and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. “Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”
You wanted to tell him that you were feeling wonderful in his arms, that he could safely close the distance between you, but the only thing that you managed to get across your lips was a tight whimper as you grabbed his arm and pulled him a little closer.
You could feel a welcome inner heat spread throughout your limbs, could feel all your muscles tense up as he softly laid a hand over your hips, digging his metal fingers into the soft skin as his jaw moved suggestively on top of yours.
“Fuck, doll,” his breath shuddered at the tension between you, making your nipples harden underneath the tight fabric of your tactical suit as you pressed your torso up against his, desperate to feel his fingers directly on your skin. The feeling was powerful and overwhelming; you had never craved a touch as much as you craved his, and when you finally pulled yourself together and closed the last remaining millimeters between you, your chest exploded in a cacophony of bright colours as you pressed your lips to his in a long-anticipated kiss.
The gravity of his lips was inescapable, electrifying rays of desire shooting through every vein, bone, and organ, making you hyperaware of the soft touches he provided you on the outside of your suit. He was engulfing you, pulling you out to a sea of desire and pleasure and letting you float in it as he slipped his softer than silk tongue inside your mouth while gently caressing your face. “Mmh,” he hummed into your mouth, putting a large hand on the back of your head as he shifted around on the sofa to gain better access.
Your fingers twisted themselves in his long locks and you pulled slightly and pressed your torso up against his so he could feel your hard nipples on his chest.
"Shit, sweetheart," he hissed and spread his legs slightly, re-capturing your lips in a hungry kiss that sent shockwaves throughout your limbs.
He was panting slightly, hands frantically travelling from your warm cheeks and down to your waist where he grabbed hold and pulled you over in his lap, his fingers immediately landing on your ass where he started kneading the skin.
"Fuck, you are so beautiful," he whispered and pulled your hair to the side so he could kiss your throat, his lips and teeth gently nipping at the sensitive skin below your ear.
His wanting hands ghosted along your spine and all the way down to your hips where he rounded the soft curve of your ass, pressing you closer to his pelvis and the beginning erection in his pants. “I love when you're in your little tactical suit," he mumbled and desperately grabbed at the tight fabric with closed fists as he pulled your earlobe between his teeth and pressed his pelvis upwards, resulting in a gasp falling from your mouth.
“Fuck,” you panted and arched your back.
“That’s it baby…” he shuddered and ran his hands up your ribs, “I can see every beautiful curve of your body in this," his erection twitched in his pants, and his lips sloppily travelled from your ear and over your cheek until they found your wet mouth again. “You’re such a goddamn little tease, I keep losing my head when we're out on missions.”
His comment sent proud waves of raw, passionate excitement pulsating through your already sensitive nerve-endings, and you wanted to grind down on him, to be filled by him so badly, the thought of his touch alone, his weight on top of you so overwhelming and overpowering that you almost cried out his name before he'd even touched you. - But it also reminded you that Bucky was a co-worker, a teammate in a small group of only three people, and that sleeping with him could bring along all sorts of complications.
With a crazy amount of will-power, you managed to pull your face back from his, looking down at his relaxed features, his heavy-hooded bedroom eyes as his hands slowly rubbed over your thighs and his wet mouth found your sensitive skin again.
"Barnes," you panted and gripped him tighter, not really wanting to let go of him, "...should we even be doing this?"
"Yeah, why not?" He whispered in-between sensual licks and kisses to your throat, pulling you down on top of his erection with a wet moan.
"We're teammates," you gasped and arched your back so your heated core grinded down on his crotch, a flash of lightening travelling through you at the satisfying touch.
"And?" He groaned, slipping a hand between your thighs, touching your sensitive nerve-endings with a satisfied grunt.
"Barnes, I'm serious," you pulled your throat away from his lips, your thorax away from his chest, "- won't it complicate things?" you panted hard.
“Complicate things?” he was staring up at you, his eyes huge and wondering, his chest heaving rapidly underneath you as his gaze travelled over your face, his eyebrows furrowing in the process.
“Yes,” you nodded with a gulp, trying to sit as still as possible even though everything inside of you was screaming at you to rip off his clothes.
His hands were still digging into your skin, his thighs tense and rock hard beneath you as his confused eyes travelled across your face. Eventually, he gave out a defeated sigh and licked his swollen lips. "I don't know, sweetheart," he said sincerely, a crestfallen look slowly forming as he rubbed his thumbs over your hips. “If you think so…”
"It's just..." you too gave out a sigh, connecting your forehead with his, laying your palms flat against his chest to show him that you really wanted this too. That you were just as disappointed as he was. “We have to think about Sam."
Bucky stopped breathing, a look of horror flashing across his face as he pulled his entire torso backwards so he could examine you. "...Sam?" he whimpered in mortification, his eyes huge and dark.
"Yeah," you breathed and carefully caressed his face, looking into his blue eyes, "we're a team, the three of us. Think of our situation when we get back home - if anybody gets ahold of it, it’s not just our asses on the line, it’s all gonna fall back on Sam as well because he’s our captain.”
Bucky breathed hard, his eyebrows furrowing with defeat, "yeah... yeah, guess so... You wanna-“ he gulped, “-you wanna stop?”
“We better,” you whispered against him, “- don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” he breathed and let his arms fall to his sides, the vibranium hand landing on the sofa cushion with a sad plonk.
"I'm sorry," you whispered and caressed his heaving chest before you climbed down from his lap, disappointment growing hot in your stomach as you took in his suddenly blank face as he was doing everything in his power to avoid your eye. "It's not because I don't want to. It's just-"
"- Sam. Yeah. I get it," he wiped the corners of his mouth and sat up straight, his entire body rigid and tense, his face curled in a slightly panicked expression. “We should probably just head to bed then,” he said mechanically and ran a hand through his hair as if composing himself. “Before we can’t control it,” he nodded slowly as if he wasn't really listening to his own words. “Yeah, I'm gonna do just that, that's probably a good idea, yeah,"
"Barnes..." you breathed and cocked your head, taking in his dead expression.
Slowly, his hurt eyes found yours and he shifted his face to a neutral expression that was so unnatural and unnerving that your stomach folded in on itself. “What? It's fine!" he nodded and licked his lips.
"You're not okay," you put a hand on his thigh and saw how his eyes rapidly moved between your face and the hand you had placed on top of his cargo pants before finding your gaze again.
"No! I am! I am! Please don’t feel bad!" he nodded and forced a smile as he looked over at you. "I won't say anything to Sam if that's what you're worried about, okay?" he ran a hand through his hair and nervously licked his lips, "- I promise! It was just a silly little kiss because we were bored and hungry and probably a little delusional from all the... smoke," he pointed to the fireplace without removing his gaze from you, a deep wrinkle forming between his eyes as he spoke. "- It's not like it meant anything anyway."
"No…” you shook your head, “no you're right," you agreed although you weren't so sure if either of you truly believed it.
"Right," he nodded mechanically and scooted as far away from you as he could, sending you a short-lived look of longing before he turned his back towards you with a deep sigh. "Well, goodnight..." he said carefully, almost too peppy.
"Goodnight then," you gulped as you took in his shoulders that were heaving slowly, controlled even. "It was - it was really nice, Barnes..."
He went quiet for a couple of seconds, his breathing coming in more and more ragged with every gulp of air until he finally took a deep breath and mumbled out a "yeah, sweetheart…” The disappointment was seeping out of him, “- it really was."
Okay, sorry, I got lost in some college stuff and couldn't reply earliar. But I read it, and I'm here, 'cuz I promised I'd always support you and there is no way I'm not doing it
First of all, this broke my heart, really. Deep. And I was mad, but then I realized how amazing writer u are 'cuz u can so easyly bring tears to my eyes
Again, you're AWESOME! 😍
So break my heart as many times u want, I'll be here praising u ahahah
Poor Bucky, imagining things between reader and Sam 🥺🥺🥺
Summary: Bucky is a bit subtle in telling you he likes you.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word count: 2,577
Warnings: Fluff. Maybe one swear-ish word.
A/N: This is a request for the lovely @emmabarnes! I’m so sorry this took me ages to finish, but I really hope you like it! Also, requests are not open. Enjoy! 😊💜 gif not mine.
Wednesday. Hump day. Quite possibly your least favorite day of the week, besides Sunday. Wednesday is just a reminder the week is still not over and the weekend is still so far away. The worst. But what makes it a little bit better is seeing the tall super soldier standing by your desk, two coffees in hand.
“Hey, Buck,” you greet as you approach your desk, depositing a pile of papers you were holding.
“Hey, Y/n,” Bucky replies. A boyish smile curls his lips, and there’s a brief pause as he seems to get lost in your presence. But then he clears his throat, blinking a few times and looking down to the coffee he holds. “Here, I got you this.”
Reaching for the hot drink, instinctively returning the smile he gives you. “Thank you,” you sweetly say, “but you don’t have to buy me a coffee every time you get one for yourself.” Smiling melting into a teasing smirk as you notice the blush creeping up the former assassin’s cheeks.
“Oh, uh, yeah, I know,” he stammers, flesh hand coming to rub at the back of his neck in slight embarrassment. “I just thought you could use a little pick-me-up.”
The bashful look he gives you is endearing, and your lingering smirk is hidden behind the lid of the coffee cup as you take a sip.
“Well, it’s very thoughtful of you,” you assure. “And you’re, right, I could use a pick-me-up. I’ve got quite the pile of paperwork to sort through, thanks to Wilson’s stunt on the last mission.” A slight eye roll in jest has Bucky chuckling.
“Well, I’ll let you get to it, then,” he replies, stepping away from your desk towards the exit. “See ya around.”
“Bye.”
Giving him a final smile and a little wave, you watch as he disappears from sight before settling into your desk. The mountain of paperwork taunts you from where it sits, but you don’t get the chance to start on it just yet.
A quiet hum in contemplation from behind has you swiveling your chair to face your desk mate, Carla.
“What?”
“Oh,” Carla says in mock surprise, “nothing.” Looking up from her desk and registering the pointed look you give her, she continues. “Just interesting how a one Bucky Barnes seems to be lingering around your desk a lot recently.”
A crease forms in your brows at her words. “We’re friends.”
“Mhm,” she hums again, “if you say so. It’s just a lot of coffee and snacks he brings up here.”
“He’s being nice.”
“Okay.”
Lips pinching together and the furrow to your brow deepening, you turn back around.
Bucky is your friend, and he is nice. The blossoming friendship you have with Bucky started a handful of months ago after he held the door open for you one day as you arrived to work. Of course you’d known who he was when he first arrived at the Tower, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t originally a bit intimated by him. Not because of the unkind and grossly unfair reputation that preceded him, but because he was an Avenger, and a handsome one at that.
But the friendly smile and considerate gesture opened the figurative door to your friendship with Bucky. After that day, he seemed to pop up more and more in your everyday life. There was the the time you were attempting to juggle a pile of papers and office supplies back to your desk. Bucky seemingly came out of no where from the conference room you passed to offer his assistance. There’s also been a handful of shared lunches in the staff cafeteria, and a few times, Bucky offered to help you file paperwork, claiming I don’t have anything better to do at the moment. And recently, as your ever observant desk mate pointed out, he’s been bringing you coffee or sweet snacks a few times a week.
Pondering the implication from Carla for another brief moment, you shake it from your thoughts. You work in administration, hardly exciting, and you aren’t oblivious to the model-esque women Bucky seems to unintentionally lure in at company parties. He’s Bucky Barnes, the Winter Solider, and you’re, well...you. It just makes sense he’s only looking for a friend, and besides, he’s never given any romantic indications towards you.
Finally, the week comes to an end. Replying to some last minute emails and filing a few bits of paperwork, you’re ready for the weekend at last. As you begin packing up your bag, and shutting down your computer, Bucky’s reflection appears on the black screen before you, a smile on his face.
Turning in your chair, you’re a little surprised to see him, but not at all put out by his presence.
“Well, hello there,” you greet. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this Friday afternoon?”
The smile on Bucky’s face stretches just that little bit more, and he’s quickly dropping his gaze to the awkward shuffling of his feet.
“Uh, I was just wondering if you’re not busy, if you’d wanna grab a coffee or something with me?” He pauses. “There’s a coffeehouse a few blocks down...”
It’s obvious he’s a little hesitant, nervous maybe. But you chalk it up to the fact it’s the first time he’s asking you to do something not during work hours and not in the comfort of the Tower.
“Yeah,” you say, “I could go for a coffee or something.” Giving him another smile, you stand from your chair and grab your jacket.
“O-okay, great,” Bucky breathes in content and possibly relief. “Are you ready now, or did you need a few minutes...”
“Nope! I am all done for today and ready to get the hell out of here.”
“Alright,” he chuckles, watching you slip on your jacket and reach for your bag. “Here, let me.” Without a second thought, he takes the bag from your hand and slings it over his shoulder.
“Oh, thanks.” A smile of appreciation is aimed in his direction. “Let me know if it gets too heavy for ya, my laptop’s in there.”
“I think I can manage,” Bucky replies with another soft chuckle. He holds his hand out in the direction of the exit, waiting for you to lead the way.
The streets of New York are unsurprisingly busy. Bucky gestures in the direction of the coffeehouse, and you begin the trek through the crowd. A somewhat protective hand finds it way to the small of your back. It’s subtle, but you know it’s there. Guiding you through the mass of people, there’s hardly a moment where you’re in discomfort as Bucky ensures no one gets too close.
The quaint coffee shops comes into view, and Bucky is quick to hold the door open for you to enter.
“There’s a small park across the way,” he states as you stand in line, “I thought we could get our drinks to go and maybe hang out there for a bit.”
“That sounds nice.”
You give him a reassuring smile, because it does sound nice. Being cooped up in an office all day, albeit an office with extremely large windows, the lack of fresh air can still make it a little stuffy and tiring.
After placing your orders, Bucky doesn’t hesitate to whip out his wallet to pay for everything.
“I asked you to come,” he says, “Only fair.”
The park isn’t too busy; you’ve managed to find that awkward time between the end of work and school so there are a few open benches to relax on. Sipping at your iced coffee, Bucky sits a modest distance away, but his body is open towards you.
“I can’t wait for summer,” he comments, eyes closed, allowing a gentle breeze to blow over his face.
Admiring his profile for a moment, you hum in agreement.
“It’ll be here soon,” you reply, “and then we’ll all be wanting winter back.”
“Nah,” he says, turning to look to you, “I don’t like the cold. Summer has always been my favorite.”
His comment is innocent enough, but from the knowledge you have of his past, you know there’s a deeper meaning, a heartbreaking reason, as to why this man doesn’t like the cold.
“Steve and I used to train hop from Brooklyn to Cony Island at least once a summer.”
His voice brings you out of your thoughts, focusing on him again.
“I haven’t been back in ages.” A wistful smile pulls at his lips and crinkles the corners of his eyes. “I’d love to go sometime.”
“Why don’t you?” The question flies from your mouth before you can even register it.
Startled, Bucky looks back to you.
“I mean, why haven’t you gone back?” You softly say in genuine curiosity.
“I don’t know,” he replies, “I guess I just haven’t made the time for it.”
The topic changes from there, and conversation flows until the sun begins its descent behind the large buildings. Again, there isn’t a moment of hesitation when Bucky offers to walk you home. Even though you assure him you could manage, he’s insistent.
“Thanks again for the coffee,” you say when you reach the door of your apartment building. “It was fun to sit and chat somewhere that wasn’t the Tower,” you add with a smile.
“Yeah, yeah it was,” Bucky agrees, lips etching upwards.
“Alright, well I’ll see you on Monday, I guess.”
One last look of appreciation before you’re turning to enter the building, but then the sound of his voice stops you.
“Hey,” he calls, words faltering as he realizes he’s gotten your attention and he needs to continue. A nervous energy radiates from him as you wait. “Would you wanna go with me?” A quizzical look contorts your features, eyebrows raising as you try to piece together what he’s offering. “To Cony Island, I mean. I know it’s still a little early in the season, but the rides open next weekend, and...it could be fun to go with you.”
To go with you.
The words induce a small fluttering in your belly, but it’s quickly squashed as you twist out the true meaning. It would be fun to go with you because you’re a nobody, and the chance of Bucky being recognized is significantly low. Going with Steve, or anyone else on the team for that matter, would most likely cause an uproar. You’re a safe option. A friendly option.
“Yeah, Buck,” you finally respond. “I’d love to go with you.”
A sigh of relief seems to pass through his lips, and a somewhat dopey smile takes over his features.
“Next weekend, you said?”
“Yeah, if that works for you?”
“I’ll put it in my calendar.”
__________
Returning from yet another lunch with Bucky, you still hold the small bundle of wildflowers he brought you because I don’t know, they just reminded me of you. As you approach your desk area, a knowing look is on Carla’s face when she sees the flowers.
“From Sergeant Barnes?”
Narrowing your eyes in the slightest at her suggestion, you pause before responding. “Maybe.”
A small quirk of her eyebrow, lips pressed into an unimpressed line, she turns back around without saying more.
You reach for a water bottle and one of the coffee mugs that’s taken up residency on your desk. Pouring just enough in the mug for the flowers, you place them inside, gently fluffing the little petals before setting it off to the side. But your attention doesn’t stray from the mound of color as you begin to question the friendship you’ve come to accept with Bucky.
When you step into the elevator a little later, you’re surprised to see Steve standing there. It’s not often the Avengers themselves make their way to this part of the Tower, but it does happen. He gives you a curt, friendly nod as you enter, and those thoughts of Bucky and your friendship take over again. So you decide to ask the original man out of time what it could all mean.
“Hey, Cap,” you begin, “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Back in your time,” a pause when you see the look he’s giving you, “I mean no offense, I’m just curious, how did you go about dating back then? I mean, how did one know when something was a date?”
His eyes narrow in intrigue. “Does this have something to do with Bucky?”
You nod in silence, pressing the folder full of papers against your chest.
“What happened?”
“He’s asked me to go to Cony Island with him this weekend.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s definitely a date.”
“What?” You ask in disbelief. “Are you sure?”
He turns, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the opposite wall to face you directly.
“Well, let’s look at all the facts,” he states. “Does he open doors for you?” A nod. “Does he bring you things?” Another nod. "Offer to help you with things?” A third nod. “Well, there ya go. He’s courting you, and he’s asked you on date.”
“I thought he was just being nice!”
“He is being nice,” he replies, “because he likes you.”
“Oh my god,” you softly groan. “What do I do?”
A shrug of his shoulders as he stands upright again. “That’s up for you to decide. Do you like him back?”
The question has you taking a moment, gaze falling to the floor as you contemplate. The idea was one you hadn’t fully considered because it just made sense Bucky was only looking for a friend. Protecting your heart and shielding your emotions, you never let it get to that point of falling for him. But as you think about all the little things he does for you, all the talks you’ve had, there’s only one answer to that question.
“Yeah,” you sigh, “Yeah, I do like him.”
“Then it seems like you know what to do.”
The doors open and he shoots you a wink as he steps out of the elevator, a playful smirk teasing the corner of his lips. Then you’re left alone with this new revelation.
By the time the weekend rolls around, you’re eager to see Bucky. He stopped by your desk a few times during the week, but it wasn’t the right time to ask him. To figure out if what Steve said in the elevator was correct and what Bucky’s intentions truly are. Of course you’d be happy to keep what you have with him platonic, he is a good friend. But for your sanity, you just need to know if that’s all he wants from you.
That’s why, on Saturday morning when Bucky comes to your apartment, you don’t hesitate to get it out of the way.
“Wait,” you begin, “before we go, is this a date?”
“Uh, I...um, do you want it to be a date?” He asks, an uncertainty in his voice, but he looks to you with wide, hopeful eyes, waiting.
A moment’s pause as you ponder your response. “I suppose I’m hoping that’s what this is.” A shy smile creeps across your lips, body heat rising as you look down at him from the top of the stoop.
The smile he gives you is breathtaking. Blue eyes twinkling in the mid-morning sun, a warm hand held out for you to take.
Summary: One night, you discover Bucky has a peculiar way of dealing with stress - so you decide to help him find a better solution.
(It’s sex. Sex is the solution.)
Characters: Bucky x Reader
Words: 5.8k
Warnings: SMUT 18+ only (oral sex, sex in a bar), language, some fluff and a hint of angst, shirtless Bucky beating the crap out of someone, Sam being a soft snack, Wade Wilson being himself.
A/N: WELL HELLO AGAIN. Been forever since I posted a fic, but some words finally poured out! So anyway, the thought of getting all sexy with a cocky, sweaty, bruised and shirtless Bucky a la Fight Club is making me have all the feelings. Enjoy the feelings with me.
“Nah man, this is crap. You said you didn’t want any food. Your exact words were ‘I’m not hungry Sam, just get your cheeseburger and hurry the fuck up,’ so not only are you a liar who ate all my fries, you gotta put five dollars in the swear jar.”
“I hate that fucking swear jar.”
“That’s ten dollars.”
“Fuck you.”
“Keep going and you’ll pay for my new Xbox.”
Licking salt off his fingers, Bucky grumbles under his breath as he pushes open the front door of their apartment, flipping on lights as he goes. Sam slogs behind, kicking off dirty boots and throwing his duffel bag and shield on the kitchen island with a dramatic groan.
“I hate this part of the job. Should I should clean it all tonight, or..." he trails off, glaring at the mud caked bag. He answers himself immediately. "Yeah no. I’ll deal with it tomorrow, I’m done with everything today.” Turning to Bucky, he fixes him with a pointed stare. “What about you? You're going to bed, right? Or you gonna be that guy who cleans everything and writes his report right away so I feel like a slacker? I hate when you pull that crap, some of us actually need sleep you know.”
Bucky fiddles with the zipper on his jacket.
“Yeah, yeah. Same. I’m going to bed. Soon.”
Sam eyes him suspiciously.
“I know that voice. That’s your liar voice. Same one you used when you promised not to eat my fries. Are you - “ Bucky bristles and Sam sighs. “Of course you are. Seriously?”
Ducking into the refrigerator, Bucky digs through the packed shelves until he unearths a monster sized energy drink. He gulps it down in three swallows.
“Yes, seriously,” he says tersely. “It makes me feel better. I’m not gonna apologize for it.”
“Man, I’m not asking you to apologize, I’m just saying.”
Crumpling up the empty can, Bucky chucks it into the overflowing blue container labeled RECYCLING ONLY!!!! in Sam’s careful cursive. He says nothing. They’ve been here before.
“I know. You’re always just saying.”
“Sometimes you’re the worst,” Sam says flatly. “Just a reminder, if you call me again in the middle of the night and I have to come pick you up, I will dropkick you in the nuts.”
With that, he trudges toward the hallway, heading for his room. Bucky leans over the island and calls after him.
“You going with roses or lavender tonight?”
“Actually it’s the cotton candy one you got me for Christmas,” Sam hollers back. “It makes me smell like a snack and I like that. So goodnight and go fuck yourself.”
“Swear jar!”
The sound of Sam’s laughter fades as he bangs his door shut. Alone now, Bucky takes a deep breath, counting slowly in his head.
Standing in his bright, cheerful kitchen, all those flashbacks of gunshots and explosions should be fading. He has more than enough combat training to know how to tune out the bad and focus on the good. And normally he’d pop an extra strength sleeping pill, call it a night, and pass out under his favorite feather quilt.
But there was something about this mission that was agitating. More than usual. He feels that familiar energy skittering under his skin and he knows. He has enough experience with his own fucked up brain to know it won’t disappear unless he does something about it.
“Fucking fuck,” he mutters.
Scrubbing a frustrated hand down his face, he decides to throw on a fresh shirt before he goes. Not that it matters, it’ll be sweat stained and blood splattered soon enough, but it makes the process feel less like a suicide mission and more like a ritual. The illusion makes a difference.
He hurries down the hallway, feeling immensely grateful your work trip was extended, so you’re not here to witness this idiocy. He still hasn’t worked up the courage to tell you this particular vice.
Nudging open his bedroom door, tosses his coat on a chair and starts to strip off his shirt, but then he sees it.
Something is wrong.
The room is empty, but his bedside lamp is shining bright, bathing his messy bedroom in a warm yellow glow.
Something is definitely wrong.
Since Sam spent three hours last month berating him for their sky-high electricity bill, Bucky’s made damn sure to turn off every light the moment he leaves any room, because Sam and his soapbox are exhausting. He checked all the lights before they left. Every single one. He definitely turned this off.
The pile of blankets on his bed begins to move.
Bucky silently shuts the door and drops into a low crouch, drawing a curved blade from his boot. Knife tight in hand, he inches closer.
A familiar face pops up from under the blankets, rubbing tired eyes.
“Bucky? Is that you?”
The knife drops with a clatter and Bucky huffs a sigh of relief at the sound of your voice. Climbing onto the bed, he presses a kiss to your forehead, inhaling the light scent of your peach moisturizer.
“Jesus Christ sweetheart, you scared the hell out of me. What’re you doing here? Thought you were gone another two days?”
“Came home early,” your voice is low, raspy with sleep. “But I'm all kinds of jet lagged, timezones can kiss my ass. How was your mission?”
Bucky smoothes his thumb across your cheek. That jittery feeling briefly fades at the touch of your warm skin and he thinks longingly of crawling in bed and wrapping himself around you. He shakes his head, desperate to force himself off this weird precipice, but the energy pulses again.
“Mission was fine,” he lies softly. “I’m just gonna shower and finish a few things, and then I’ll come to bed. Okay?”
Eyes already fluttering closed, you snuggle into the blankets and steal one his pillows, offering one last sleepy smile.
“Okay. Hurry though, won’t stay awake long.”
Bucky leans down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss, but you're already asleep. He whispers in your ear.
“I'll be back soon.”
*****
When you wake, the room is dark. Beside you, where Bucky should be, the sheets are cold. Struggling to sit up, you peer into the dark corners of the room.
“Bucky? Where are you?”
Tiptoeing to the bathroom, you flip on the lights. The space is empty, everything in order: toothbrushes in place, the jar of cottonballs packed full, Bucky’s expensive shampoo beside your body wash. Towels are folded over the rack, crisp edges hanging straight. When you brush your fingers over his plush green towel, you notice it’s bone dry.
Confused, you wander out of the bedroom, into the kitchen. The dim glow of streetlights outside throws sharp shadows across the wall and as you step onto the balcony, you expect to find him nursing a whiskey or stealing a smoke or reading a book. Something.
Nothing.
This isn’t completely out of the ordinary. Now and then, when the thoughts start swirling, he wanders out for a walk, letting the night air and the concrete heartbeat of Manhattan work it's magic. But normally, he kisses you awake and begs you to come with him. He never leaves without telling you.
As much as you hate being that person, you can’t help the ripple of nerves. Creeping down the hall, you decide to knock on another door.
“Sam. Sam. Are you awake?”
There’s a faint thud and a metallic clang, followed by a string of muffled curses. A moment later, the door swings open revealing a bleary eyed and fully naked Sam Wilson.
“God dammit Bucky, I broke my toe again, what do you - oh shit. Shit, hi. Sorry. I didn’t know you were here. Shit.”
Fumbling behind the door, Sam grabs the red, white, and blue shield and hurriedly covers himself.
“No, no, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have woken you, I didn’t mean to see your, um, your - stuff. Your, you know. Your goods,” you babble, voice ratcheting up. “Anyway. Yeah. Um, I was just wondering if you might have any idea where Bucky might be?”
“My goods? What the hell, way to make it awkward,” Sam chuckles. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I know where he is, but - didn’t you talk to him before he left?”
“Kind of, but I was mostly asleep. He said he was coming right to bed.”
There’s no surprise from Sam, only resignation. Leaning against the doorframe, he fixes you with a serious look.
“Of course he did. So listen, I’m gonna level with you here and if he has a problem with that, he can deal.” He pauses for a moment, choosing the words. “You know how sometimes after a really rough mission, there’s shit just bouncing around in your head? Like some crazy adrenaline rush you can’t ignore? Well sometimes you gotta find a way to deal or it fucks with your head. Make sense?”
“Of course. Decompression tactics.”
“Exactly. So anyway, we all got these routines to stay sane. Me, I like scented bubble baths and sleeping naked.” He gestures vaguely at his bare chest and the strategically placed shield. “Wanda bakes. Natasha eats Skittles and shoots things. Everyone’s different. Whatever your brain wants you to do, you listen. Except Steve, I guess. We try not to listen to Steve.”
“Why?”
“Steve likes to karaoke.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
Sam sets his mouth in a grim line. “He doesn’t sing, he raps. And he has dance moves. He’s like a bargain basement Eminem.”
“Yikes.”
“Yep.”
“So, Bucky’s off decompressing? Why wouldn’t he just tell me?”
Part of Sam thinks you should ask Bucky yourself, but the other part - the part that grudgingly likes Bucky Barnes even though he’s a dumbass lacking basic self-preservation skills - feels like he should spill the tea.
“I guarantee he’ll be back in a few hours, he always is, but since he has some personal shit driving his little ritual, I’ll tell you where to find him just in case.”
And so you listen solemnly as Sam explains. When he's done, you can't decide if you want to hug Bucky or smack him in the head.
“Thanks Sam," you sigh. "I’ll go find him. Make sure he doesn’t do something stupid.”
“Good luck with that. If you figure out how, I could use some tips.”
Sam steps back to close the door, but you stop him.
“Wait. Since I can smell the bubble bath on you, can I just check - are you okay? Do you need anything?”
At your concern, a slow smile tugs his lips. He nods.
“I’m okay. But thanks for asking. I mean it.”
Keeping the lower half of your body demurely away from the shield and naked Sam, you gingerly lean in to give him a one armed hug. A sugary scent wafts off his skin, so sweet it makes your teeth ache.
“Is that cotton candy?”
“It’s delicious right? Now get outta here, before I tell Barnes you were trying to peep on my goods.”
*****
Down a dark street on the Lower East Side, there’s a nondescript black door beside a vacant laundromat. Tacked on the brick beside the door is a dingy brass plaque, with the surname of some long-forgotten tenant etched in barely legible letters. Rubbing your thumb over the thin metal, you can feel the letters spell out a word.
K-u-l-a-k.
While your Russian is not as fluent as Bucky’s, sounding out the letters under your breath is enough to let you know you’re in the right place.
Kulak. Rough translation?
The Fist.
Glancing around the empty street, your fingers find the smooth brick four down and two across, before giving it a firm push. It pops out, revealing a black keypad. Punching in the eight-digit code Sam shared, the door clicks and slides silently open. Slipping inside, you see a rickety looking elevator and before you can talk yourself out this insane excursion, you punch the round black button, step inside, and hold your breath.
With a whoosh, it plummets. Faster and faster it falls, until you feel the odd vibration of rumbling metal beneath your feet. It sounds like a heavy bass beat, the feel of a thousand drums tickling through your toes, crawling up your legs, banging in your chest.
The elevator bumps to a stop.
When the doors open, the sound knocks you back like a physical blow.
The cavernous room resembles an underground warehouse, exposed metal beams twisting along the ceiling like the ribs of some giant beast, layers of mesh wire adorning the walls. Down one side of the room, a long bar takes up the entire wall, hundreds of liquor bottles illuminated by coils of neon lights.
On the opposite wall is a massive tournament bracket. Names, rankings, and win-loss records are listed out, betting odds outlined beneath each.
Bewildered, you scan the list of names until you see it, listed under the ELITE division:
BARNES
RANK: 1
W-L: 4-0
ODDS: 2:1
“Bucky, what the fuck,” you mutter.
In the middle of the room, a wide space is roped off into a square ring. Assembled around the barrier, crowds of people are screaming and cheering, stomping their feet, sucking in a collective breath, as some gruesome scene plays out before them.
Elbowing through the throngs of people, you duck under pumping fists, cringing when you rub against the sweaty armpit of one very enthusiastic, very hairy man. By the time you reach the edge of the ring, you’re covered in sticky spilled cocktails and sour beer. Gripping the rough black rope, you lean forward, finally discovering why everyone is going crazy.
Bucky stands in the center of the ring, dressed in a white shirt and black jeans, worn combat boots on his feet. His right hand is wrapped with wide strips of white tape, stained rusty red and his face is a patchwork of bruises - purple-blue along his jaw, a shiner ringing his eye - and blood oozes from his busted lip. When he rakes a hand through his hair, it stands up in messy, sweaty spikes.
Bouncing on his toes, he dances around the ring, his eyes wild and bright. Before him is a lanky man covered in freckles, sporting an electric blue buzzcut, and hissing at Bucky with unconcealed rage. Locking eyes with the man, Bucky casually wipes away the blood on his mouth and flicks it at him.
And then he grins. That cocky, wise-ass, bullshit smirk that is equal parts adorable and so infuriating even you want to punch him sometimes.
A piercing siren blares.
Blue Buzzcut launches himself at Bucky, fists swinging. Bucky ducks almost lazily, before returning a punishing gut punch and an elegant uppercut that lifts the man off his feet. He flies backward, hitting the ground with a heavy groan and Bucky keeps dancing in place, waiting for him to rise. The man crawls shakily to his knees, before collapsing with a groan.
Knockout. Less than 30 seconds.
The crowd goes ballistic.
The siren blares again and Bucky raises a victorious fist in the air, before sauntering off to his corner. Gulping down a bottle of water, he flexes his fingers, examining the bloody tape and ignoring the mob of voices chanting his name.
“Barnes! Barnes! Barnes! Barnes!”
Jumping in place a few times, he shakes out his arms and cracks his knuckles. He grabs another bottle of water and takes a long drink, before dumping the rest down the back of his neck. And because he tends to be excessively theatrical even on a normal day, he pulls his shirt off and tosses it behind him with all the flair of a professional stripper.
The crowd goes completely, utterly, and totally insane.
From your vantage point across the ring, you see the smallest curl of a smile, before he smothers it down with a snarl. Rolling his shoulders back, he sinks naturally into a fighting stance and waggles his fingers, beckoning the next fighter.
“Come on, big boy,” he calls. “Let’s see it!”
Gripping the rope, you watch a black haired giant slowly enter the ring. Covered in red and black tattoos and at least seven feet tall, he towers over Bucky. Wrapped around his hands, you see a wicked set of bloodstained brass knuckles.
“Okay, listen up you bunch of drunk degenerates!”
The snarky voice booms through the room and you turn your head to see a familiar figure perched in a chair high above the melee. Dressed in red and black spandex, his face covered by a mask, Wade Wilson sounds positively gleeful narrating the show.
“Here he is, straight from the cold ass fucking streets of Moscow, give a big round of applause to this badass motherfucker who goes by - wait, seriously? Dagger? Dude, that's the name you picked? What the fuck's wrong with you? Jesus Christ. Alright, well his name is real fucking stupid, but he looks like he could eat your fucking face, so anyway, Dagger's gonna give our boy Barnes here a run for his money. Fists up, you crazy assholes, these people came here to see some motherfucking blood and guts, so FIGHT!”
There’s the shriek of the siren and both men step forward, quick as lightning. Dagger starts with a flurry of short jabs, and Bucky knocks down every hit with nonchalant ease, the gold vines in his vibranium arm glittering under the neon lights. His grin grows wider.
Dagger keeps punching, his frustration growing with every missed hit. His swings get progressively wilder, until he overreaches and stumbles sideways. Bucky twists gracefully aside and begins to laugh, eyes dancing merrily as he glances toward the crowd.
And somehow in that crushing madness, with hundreds of screaming fans - his eyes land on you.
The laughter dies instantly. Shock flashes through his face, eyes growing wide and panicked. He freezes on the spot and in the middle of a bloody fight, that hesitation becomes a very painful problem.
Dagger swings again and this time, Bucky takes a brass-knuckled fist square in the face.
The momentum behind the punch sends him sprawling and he hits the floor hard, breath punched from his lungs. Rolling away, Bucky avoids a boot to the head, and scrambles back to his feet, backpedaling around the ring to where you stand. Dagger beats his chest and faces the screaming crowd with a triumphant roar.
Blood pouring from his nose, Bucky leans into the rope barrier, yelling above the noise.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“What do you think I’m doing? I was looking for you!” You shout. “What the hell are you doing?”
Dagger turns back to face him, snorting and bellowing like a bull in a ring. Bucky grimaces.
“Ah fuck. Listen, can I just - can I finish this first and then we talk? I’ll make it fast, I swear.”
Throwing your hands in the air, you wave him away.
“Go! Just please try not to get your ass beaten!”
Relieved, Bucky nods frantically and dashes back into the fray.
With the knowledge of you waiting behind him, he spits a mouthful of blood at Dagger’s feet and barrels back into the fight with a vicious sneer. Whirling and ducking, he lands three quick hits in rapid succession, short and sharp to the belly, but it’s his right cross that seals the deal. Dagger spins away, blood spraying the crowd, and lands spreadeagled.
Out cold.
The siren blares one more time and the crowd howls their delight, stomping and clapping as another 'W' is added on the bracket next to BARNES.
Snatching up a towel, Bucky wipes his face and waves at the announcer stand.
“I’m done Wade, I’m out! Pull me off!”
“What?! God dammit Barnes, you cocksucking piece of shit, I dumped all my fucking money on you!”
Ignoring Wade’s furious shrieking, Bucky flips him off and jogs back toward you, hopping over the rope barricade. He lands at your side and you grab hold of his sweat slick arm.
“Bucky, what in the world -“
“Hang on,” he interrupts. Curving an arm tight around your waist, he steers you through the crush of people. All around, unknown hands slap his back, his shoulder, his arm, shouting congratulations and insults and even a few marriage proposals, but he ignores everything. Guiding you to a dimly lit hallway, he shoves open a heavy door, pulling you inside a small bathroom before flipping the lock. The noise is instantly muffled.
He moves to the sink and flips the facet full blast, splashing icy water on his face, rubbing away drying blood from rapidly healing wounds. He squints at his reflection in the dirty mirror and sighs irritably at his now crooked nose. Placing three fingers on either nostril, he snaps the bones back in place with a pained grunt. Drying his hands on his jeans, he takes a deep breath and turns back to you, eyes on the floor. There’s a long moment of silence, before he finds the courage to look up.
“Okay, let me have it.”
But of course you can’t. Not when you know why he’s in this club, shoulders slumped, shame in his eyes.
“Buck. I’m not mad at all. You just had me worried, since I had no idea this was something you did…I had to come make sure you were okay.”
Bucky softens at that confession. Longing fills him up, to take away your sadness and never distress you again.
“Thank you for being worried,” he says. “But I’m okay, I promise.”
Gesturing at the cuts and bruises littering his skin, you shake your head. “Are you though? Sam said you had other reasons for coming here. Stuff from your past.”
Taking tentative steps closer, Bucky watches your reaction. You can smell the faint scent of his deodorant, under the tang of sweat and blood.
“I really am okay, sweetheart. But I’m sorry you found out like this, I should've come clean a long time ago.” Bucky frowns, gathering his thoughts. "It all started years ago when I was still with Hydra. There was one handler who had all these - side jobs, I guess. Ways to make money under the table. One night, after this shitty mission in Detroit, he met me at the rendezvous point and I was all over the place. Could barely see straight, the whole thing had set me off. And this guy, he takes one look at me, tells me to get my ass in the car, and he drives to an old warehouse outside the city. I honestly thought he was taking me somewhere to kill me off. Like maybe he figured I wasn’t worth the effort or something. It scared the shit outta me, but I also felt kinda relieved. You know?”
The ghost of a smile flickers. It bruises your heart.
“Buck - “
He shrugs. “Nah, it’s okay. So we get in this rusty elevator and when the doors open, we’re in a basement and it’s just - it’s full of people. Lights and music and shouting. In the middle of the room, there was an area roped off like a boxing ring and these two men were beating the shit out of each other. Punching, kicking, biting. Fucking brutal. There was a bookie taking bets and the handler gave them my name and threw all his money down on me. I won every single round I fought. That was my first fight club, but it wasn’t the last.”
The way Bucky describes it, the Soldier terrified he was about to be executed, only to be thrown into another fight, it sets your blood boiling.
“He made you fight people? Why?”
Bucky smiles at your angry indignation. He adores these little moments when you get protective of him. It makes him feel bright and shiny. Like someone worth protecting.
“Guess he knew I was a sure thing. No one was gonna beat me, no one ever came close. We never went to the same place twice, and I always wore a mask and gloves, so no one knew who I was. I’d blow off some steam and he’d make some money. It was a win-win. And after, I actually felt better. Like I could breathe again. Most of those missions were fucking horrifying, and I'd just - I’d come out of them so jacked up on adrenaline. Once I got in there and worked it off, I felt better.” Bucky grimaces. “I hated going back on ice when I was anxious. It made the nightmares worse. Anyway, then later on there was another new guy, so I suggested a club and it sort of became a ritual I guess.”
“Are you -“ you hesitate, but Bucky nods encouragingly. “Are you angry? Is that why you want to fight?”
“No, no, no, not at all. It isn’t anger, I’m not mad. It’s honestly just stress relief. I work off the energy and then I feel better and go to sleep.”
Relieved, you finally relax. And you start to think.
Bucky stays quiet and nervously chews his thumbnail while you mull over his story. Finally, you reach for the waist of his jeans, hooking a finger in the band and tugging him in. He goes easily.
“Thank you for telling me, Buck. I love you.”
“I love you too. And I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before, I just felt…stupid. Here you are, this smart, gorgeous, insanely talented woman, and here I am, some dumbass picking illegal fights in a warehouse in the middle of the night.” He grins ruefully. “I didn’t need to remind you that you’re crazy for being with me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I mean, you are a dumbass, but you’re my dumbass.”
“I love it when you sweet talk me,” he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss.
Even amid all his anxiety and adrenaline, the kiss is slow, his mouth moving leisurely against yours.
Behind you, the door suddenly rattles, startling you apart. Someone starts kicking it , yelling for you to hurry. Bucky slams his fist against the door in retaliation, yelling right back.
“It’s occupied! Fuck off!”
The angry snarl disappears the moment he looks back at you. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he breathes in your ear, voice full of that sweetness he reserves for you alone. He peppers small kisses along your jawline, the corner of your mouth, your nose, your eyelids, before he lands on your lips again. You sink into the delicious pressure once more, before coyly pulling away.
“You know Buck, if you needed to work off your energy, you could've just asked me for help.”
Bucky looks aghast. “Hell no, I'm not asking you. I’ve told you, our wrestling stays in the bedroom. I’m not sparring with you, I’d never forgive myself if something happened.”
Trailing your fingers lightly down his chest, your nails click invitingly when they reach his belt buckle.
“I didn’t mean sparring. There are other ways to work off energy you know.” Fiddling with the belt loops, your hands slide lower, teasing fingers cupping his cock. He sucks in a startled breath when you squeeze. “Did you ever think about that?”
The gears crank in his brain while he attempts to work out your question. Unhelpfully, all the blood in his head rushes south.
“What do you - "
Oh.
Oh.
Sex. You mean sex.
Sex can burn off energy. Instead of sneaking into illegal clubs, goading enormous rage fueled men into fistfights, and scrubbing dried blood from under his fingernails, he could have been at home. With you. Sweaty and naked. Fucking.
“I never thought about it," he breathes. "Holy shit, I’m a moron.”
Curling a hand behind his neck, you tug him closer.
“I don’t like you fighting Bucky, you do enough of that in the real world. If this is something that makes you feel better, I’ll support it.” Nuzzling against his jaw, you lick a slow path up his neck. He shivers. “But I’d rather you use all your energy on me. Doesn’t that sound like more fun?”
When you nip his ear, he swallows a groan, his hips bucking into your hand.
“Oh god,” he sighs. “Yeah, that’s a better idea. So much better.”
Tilting your head back to meet his eyes, Bucky chases your lips, drunk on this new thought. His sweaty body stretches against yours and you can feel him, hard and heavy between your legs. An irresistible idea pops into your head.
“Are you still buzzing now?”
“I am, yeah,” he admits, voice rough. “But now it's 'cause I'm thinking about your sexy ass. Makes me wanna fuck you right here.”
“Then do it. Take the edge off. Then I’ll take you home and finish the job.”
Bucky gapes at the request.
“Wha - here? In here? Are you serious?”
Reaching under your skirt, your fingers hook on the silky band of your underwear, and you slide them down. Tucking them into Bucky’s back-pocket, you slap his ass.
“Your move, Barnes.”
He stares at you, every muscle tense. A dark gleam appears in his eyes and he licks his lips, still unsure. But then he feels you grinding against his cock, whispering for him to touch you, and in the next breath, his mouth slants over yours.
The kiss is wild, tongue and teeth, salt and danger. Delicious.
Breaking away, he sinks to his knees, eager hands sliding up your calves, squeezing your thighs. He shoves your skirt up and pins your hips back against the door, and then his dark head is between your legs. Vibranium fingers tickle up your belly, a firm hand holding you still as he flattens his tongue and licks long, slow strokes up your pussy.
“Fuck, Bucky,” you moan. Shaking hands grab handfuls of his hair, tangling in the damp strands. He growls at the feel.
“Keep pulling my hair, baby. Just like that.”
He nudges your legs wider, sliding a hand up to rub against your core. His tongue tickles your clit, sucking it between his lips and you can’t stop the cry when he pushes two fingers inside your cunt. He thrusts up again and again, driving you onto your toes until you're seeing stars. Grasping his shoulders for leverage, you feel hard muscles straining beneath his flame hot skin.
“Bucky,” you whimper, weak against the onslaught. “Oh god that feels so good, Bucky, keep going, I’m gonna come, Bucky please - “
He moves his hand faster, fingers fucking into you harder. Even with the music blaring outside, you can hear the slick, wet sounds of desire. He answers your desperate plea with one of his own.
“Go on, give it to me. Come on, cum for me.”
That does it, the throaty vibration of his deep voice rumbling against you and suddenly you snap. Knees shaking, you squeeze his head tight between your thighs, yanking a fistful of his hair as you gasp out your orgasm. Bucky growls happily at the feel, his thick fingers gently stroking inside you, while you shiver through the aftershocks.
Breathing hard, you brush the hair back from his forehead. He gazes up at you, that cocky smirk on his lips.
“I thought we were working off your energy, not mine,” you pant.
Bucky turns his face against your thigh and laughs, the brush of stubble along his jaw scratching your skin.
“Couldn’t help myself, I know how good you taste. Been thinking about it all week.”
“You're ridiculous. Now get up here and fuck me,” you urge, cupping his chin. “I want this to be about you. Whatever you need, take it. I’m all yours.”
His face lights up and he pops to his feet, belt buckle clinking, shaky hands fumbling with his zipper. Glancing around the bathroom, he shimmies his pants halfway down his thighs and then grips your thighs, lifting you off your feet. His heavy body presses you tight against the door.
“Don’t touch anything, it’s fucking filthy in here,” he rasps in your ear. “Hang onto me, I won’t let you go.”
He maneuvers your body just right, staring down between you to watch the blunt head of his cock slide teasingly through your slick folds, lubing himself up. Desire crawls up your spine as you watch his expression turn dark and hungry.
“Bucky, please -”
The order fades to a startled gasp when he yanks your hips down, burying himself deep inside.
“Oh god,” he groans, a ragged sigh of pleasure. His mouth searches for a bare space of skin on your neck and he sucks, grounding himself. Clenching your thighs for leverage, he thrusts up. The metal belt buckle slaps your thighs with every sharp jerk of his hips, echoing off the walls. Each thrust is followed by a warm exhalation, a quiet grunt that sends shivers rippling through you.
“You feel good Bucky, you feel so good.” Eyes drift closed and you give yourself up to the feel of Bucky using your body, taking what he needs from the soft, wet heat.
He breaks from mouthing at that comforting space on your neck, licking along your jaw until he takes your mouth in a rough kiss. He bites your lip as he pulls back.
“Look at me,” he pants, hips rolling faster. “Open your eyes. Watch me.”
It’s a herculean effort to drag your eyes open, but the sight of Bucky’s bright blue keeps you locked in place. He watches you intently, his expression a blend of sweet adoration and fierce lust. Pressing his forehead against yours, he thrusts harder, driving his cock deeper. Every slap of his hips jolts your body against the door, tightening the coil in your belly. He brings you right up to the edge, as you drink in the image of this bloodied, bruised, beautiful man.
He has a spectacular bruise blooming down the side of his face, blood still smeared on his cheek, sweat slicking the back of his neck. Beneath your palms, you feel scorching hot skin and taut muscles shifting with every sensuous roll of his body. In that moment, he’s never looked sexier than he does tonight, fucking you in this dingy bathroom with graffiti painting the walls and the neon glow of blue and purple lights illuminating the sharp angles of his body.
This time, the orgasm catches you off guard. Eyes rolling back, you scream out his name and Bucky feels your cunt gripping him, squeezing tight.
“Fuck baby, that’s it,” he grits out. Rough hands grind into your skin harder, harsh thrusts moving faster, as he chases his own pleasure. You feel his heavy cock filling and stretching your aching core, until he chokes out a strangled groan and buries his face against your neck.
In the silence of the bathroom, you can hear the sink dripping, and the buzzing crackle of the fluorescent light. Breathing heavily, Bucky relaxes against you. It takes a minute before he can speak.
“That was fucking amazing,” he says hoarsely. “You’re fucking amazing. God damn.”
He lowers you carefully to your feet, zipping himself up before hurrying to grab a handful of paper towels for you. Reluctantly, he pulls your panties from his back-pocket and returns them.
“Here, you might want these until we get home. But then I want them back later, okay? They're my trophy tonight.”
Laughing, you brush the wrinkles from your skirts.
“Weirdo.”
“Yup.”
With just these few minutes together, he already seems calmer, more peaceful. Rubbing his arm, you tentatively ask.
“So you feel better? That helped?”
“Hell yeah,” he says softly. “Feel much better. It’s different than normal, but like - a nice different.”
“Good,” you say, tenderly kissing his still semi-crooked, swollen nose. “I’m glad.”
“Thank you, baby,” he murmurs. “For being here, for doing this. For being you.”
“Anytime, Buck.”
Turning toward the door, you straighten your dress and steel yourself for the frenetic crush of people still raging outside, but a question pops in your head. You stop, turning back to him with a serious expression.
“What’s up?”
“Do you think Sam might let us have some of his bubble bath? The cotton candy one? I think we need a detox after - well, after this.” You wave your hands vaguely around the dirty bathroom with a grimace.
Bucky wraps an arm around you and laughs.
“I actually bought myself one too, Sam ain't the only one who likes bubble baths. Let’s go get naked.”
I know the premise for thisnfic is sex and violence and those two things come across very well, but it's the romance that really struck me. They're both so tender and kind to each other, even Sam is so supportive and it makes the whole fic feel...safe. That Bucky can indulge in both needs safely. Right in the feels!!!
For the Good Times @delabersficrecs - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
