Updated 2/25/2025, since I got a new laptop and am updating a couple of my older fics.
Hereâs my stories, all are Bucky Barnes x Reader/OFC unless otherwise noted. I lurve him.
All of my readers are female, tall and more than a size 2. Stoners one and all.
*I accept requests. Main #1 rule, Bucky can't end up the bad guy, Never ever. Female reader only. Also, no incest, no DDLG. That's all I can think of but I'll update if I come across anything else I'm not comfortable writing.
JUST ASK ME
If you prefer AO3
Miss Velvet- Completed
Y/N is a disabled equestrian and therapeutic riding instructor who helps Tony Stark with his PTSD after returning from Titan. When the Avengers bring everyone back he hires her to work with Avengers and SHIELD hires her as therapist and teaching basic riding skills because you never know when a horse will be the best mode of transportation.<;br />
Bucky Barnes is a manwhore who is enjoying his freedom for the first time in decades and pays no mind to y/n when she meets the team because he learned to ride from Hydra and too is busy pursuing his next conquest.
Post Endgame but everybody survived, because I said so. And Steve helped get Sharon Carter pardoned so they are together.
Notes: this is some sort of Heathers/Mean Girls/The DUFF mash up, in college au. I tried to make it original but will admit to being influenced by other stories I have read. I have not intentionally stolen or copied anyone elseâs work.
Summary: Reader is a hard working vet science major. I tried to keep the description vague except sheâs a she, tall and not thin. Bucky is a studious engineering major with a mean girl girlfriend, Sharon whose sister is Steveâs ex Peggy another mean girl. Steve & Nat, Sam & Wanda, Brock Rumlow is a dick, brief reader x Jack Rollins, Maria & Carol
Friday is an equestrian who runs a therapeutic stable that works with special needs, at risk kids and veterans.
Bucky Barnes is the boss of SHIELD a mafia family and involved with a business deal that requires Friday's Place and all of the homes around it to be demolished for new buildings.
 Brock Rumlow is second in command with Hydra and in charge of the deal Friday is fighting. He's not afraid to fight dirty, in fact he prefers it.Â
 Sharon Carter is Friday's oldest frenemy and Brocks girl.Â
 Friday won't go down without a fight. What happens when her and Bucky clash?
Steve Rogers x Reader, Steve Rogers x Sharon Carter, Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff x Reader(past), Reader x ????
Former Black Widow Reader is engaged to Steve Rogers but what happens when Sharon Carter is pardoned and returns.
Alternative version- Completed
Steve Rogers x Reader, Steve Rogers x Sharon Carter, Bucky x reader (past. Future?) Warnings: swearing, angst, cheating, Steve is a dick, Sharon is a bad person.
Reader is a former Black Widow and engaged to Steve Rogers. What happens when Sharon Carter is pardoned and comes to the Avengers compound?
Notes: This is a rework of one of my older stories because I'm stuck on everything else. When I first wrote this one of my mutuals passed on reading it because she hates Natasha and I have been pondering rewriting a version where she still died on Vormir ever since. Since I'm just tweaking some bits and this is only 9 chapters it should all be done and posted pretty quick.
Reader is low on self esteem. Can Bucky convince her that she's the one he wants?
Note: just a simple love story. Many of the people, situations and quotes were plucked directly from my past experiences. It took my husband a lot of time and angst to help me look past the image that my ex carved into my psyche. Luckily he really did want me and was patient enough to help me carry my baggage.
Names have been changed to protect the not so innocent.
Summary: Y/N is the daughter of a powerful mob boss who only cares about her horses and making it to the Olympics but her father expects her to marry an equally powerful boss to help strengthen his business. Bucky is looking for a wife to help his business but already has a long term girlfriend, Natasha.
Notes: considering another story to try and get past the block I have for my WIP's. LMK what you think. If anyone is interested I'll keep going. I could also use help with a title, I'm not great at them.
I tried to keep my reader as generic as possible but like always she's female and taller than average.
Summary: Reader meets Bucky when the truck hauling her show horses breaks down as she is trying to leave for an event and he works for the mechanic. Passionate, secret love affair ensues. After a confrontation with her father, Bucky decides she deserves better than a poor biker like him and leaves town with his friends Steve and Sam.
Three years later, reader is trapped in an abusive relationship and about to give up hope of things ever improving, when Bucky comes back.
Summary: Reader meets Bucky at a party and the attraction is more than either one of them wants to resist.
Notes: Since most stories are younger readers I felt like having a more mature reader could be a nice change of pace. Especially since I'm creeping up on senior discounts and want to believe Bucky could fall in love with someone like me.
I try to keep my readers description vague but, as always, she's female, tall and this one is obviously 40+
Steve Rogers x Reader, Steve Rogers x Natasha, Reader x ????
Reader is a mutant with the ability to turn sound into light who was 'adopted' aka stolen as a child by Baron Von Strucker to use for experimentation. She was given a form of the Super soldier serum so in addition to her mutant abilities she also has super strength, enhanced senses and healing. When he starts experimenting on his volunteers, the Maximoff twins, she tries to convince them to escape with her but they tell the Baron that she's planning to escape so he doubles her cell security. Steve and reader met when the team recovered Loki's scepter from Strucker.
She falls in love with Steve and becomes good friends with Nat but they aren't the friends she thinks they are.
This story is canon adjacent except that Thanos never happened.
Bucky Barnes x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Sharon Carter
Summary: Reader and Bucky are best friends until a drunken hook up. Bucky wants a friends with benefits situation because he doesn't feel ready for a relationship but reader knows that will lead to a broken heart.
Then Sharon Carter comes to work with them.
Notes: Steve and Tony are around but retired, everything else is mostly canon
Summary: After a mission almost gone wrong, Tony brings back Bucky's former assistant, who is also Bucky's ex. Can they work together without hurting each other? Will the whole truth about their break up finally come out?
Summary: Reader works as an administrator for the Thunderbolts* and quickly falls for the White Wolf. The team is hesitant to trust her and drama ensues.
Note: As usual I'm stuck in a story and starting yet another one. This has been rolling around in my head since we went to see Thunderbolts* so hopefully getting this out will help knock some inspiration for The Situation Room and No Benefits.
I've tried to keep the reader neutral but she is a she and as always taller than average. I haven't seen a story like this one but haven't been able to keep up with all the new works so if it seems similar please know that's not my intention.
Anyhow, I hope y'all like it. Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated.
LMK if I should keep going.
Warnings: angst with a happy ending, swearing, cannabis use
Summary: Reader is devastated when she finds out she can't have kids, then her husband leaves her for another woman. She goes to visit her aunts ranch and meets a cowboy, tall dark and handsome. Will he help repair her heart or fracture it even more?
NOTE: this is inspired by the first Danielle Steele novel I ever read. I was 12 and my mom handed it to me "This has horses, you'll like it". I eventually grew out of Danielle Steele but still have that book my mom gave me.
The characters have all been replaced by MCU characters. Reader and Bucky are 30ish but Steve and Peggy are in their 60's. Like all of my Readers she's a she, above average height and uses cannabis.
Summary: Reader is stressed and enjoys diving into her favorite fandoms as her happy escape. What happens when she is some how transported into her favorite fandoms
A/N: this is my first time doing a story collaboration with the amazing mutuals I've encountered on tumblr, all thought up and coordinated by @supraveng many thanks for including me.
This series will have multiple chapters and each written by someone else.
Reader and Bucky have been dating for awhile but when he is gone on a long mission the stress causes her psoriasis to flare and she's scared he will be disgusted.
Poor Choices
Request*****Like Steve cheated on his wife and when she found out about them he gave her the divorce papers and left her with their kids, and after few years the woman he cheated with cheated on him and he tries to get back to the reader and now sheâs married to Bucky .******
Traded Up
Nick Fowler x Reader, Ransom Drysdale x Reader(past)
Request***** I have a request for your milestone celebration......can you write a Ransom Drysdale or Nick Fowler story? any scenario you like, just keeping his asshole persona except he's totally soft for the reader?Â
The Wrong One
Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader
Reader meets Steve while he's on the run and sticks with him thru thick and thin. Until he sees Peggy Carter again.
âȘ Prompt | Somebody That I Used To Know - Gotye | âWhen you said we would still be friendsâ
âȘ Warnings + Tags | Fluff, misunderstanding, reader is dramatic af
âȘ Phoenix Chirps | I don't even know you guys. Just laugh along with me, please
âȘ Word Count | 297
âź Prev | Masterlist ⯠Event Masterlist | Next â
You [9:32 pm]
i know you're on stage rn
don't care tho
You [9:33 pm]
you promised
looked me in my eyes and said that we would still be friends
Another hit of anger mixed with frustration smacked against your ribs as memories of promises that were not kept swam into your vision.
You [9:34 pm]
lying dickhead
With that, you tossed your phone onto the small coffee table littered with snacks, empty beer bottles, and a few ash trays.
You heard it buzz once, knocking against a glass bottle, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. A headache was settling deep behind your eyes from being so misled by someone you thought cared for you.
"Baby," you heard the muffled voice from somewhere above the pillow you had placed over your eyes against the harsh florescent lights.
You grunted in response, waving a blind hand in the direction of the voice.
The pillow was yanked from your head in the next second, your sound of protest now filling the small green room.
"Lying dickhead?" your boyfriend, Bucky Barnes, and drummer of the band that just played a sold out show in Madison Square Garden whispered dangerously. His phone with the text messages you sent in anger held within an inch of your nose.
You drew your lips in, determined not to laugh at your own dramatics. "You ate the last of the peanut butter cups." As if that was a good enough excuse to text him a string of messages while he played the show of his life.
A long suffering sigh left his chest as he looked to the heavens for help.
"Baby," he said again, slower this time, and slotting himself between your thighs. "Let me make it up to you."
Plot Summary : When your boyfriend turns out to be cheating piece of shit, two alphas come to your rescue. One tells you he won't keep you and the other wants nothing to do with you, but that doesn't stop the pull you feel towards them. The closer you get, the more you discover about them, and about yourself.
Pairing : Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader / Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader
Story Rating : RÂ
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour and mentions of cheating. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, love triangle(ish), and explicit smut. There is an unspecified age gap between Alphas and reader. All characters are a little darker than usual. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.Â
Word Count : 6.6k
A/N : Yep, everyone is definitely an asshole in this one đ
Chapter Two
The dull, thrumming ache between your thighs was the first thing you noticed when you finally woke up.
You hadn't slept the whole night through â after the first round of sex, you'd dozed for an hour or so, before waking to find him still naked next to you. One thing quickly led to another, and you'd ended up on top of him, riding him hard. He hadn't even pulled out when you collapsed on his chest and drifted off again.
The third time, he'd settled behind you, slipping inside you with ease. He muttered in your ear, telling you how perfect you felt and how good you were being. He took his time, fucking you with a slow purpose, bringing you an entirely new kind of pleasure.
(Keep us, keep us, keep us, your hindbrain had chanted â and, honestly, you couldn't be sure that the words didn't leave your lips too.)
So, when you woke, you felt thoroughly fucked in a way you'd never experienced before. But, more than that, you actually felt sated. The part of you that craved and needed physical intimacy was silent. You didn't roll over to reach for him, desperate for another round, and you didn't slip your hand between your legs as you'd done so many mornings as Rick snored beside you.
You were... content.
Snuggling down beneath the thin sheet, you breathed in his scent and the scent of what you'd spent the night doing. It was enough to have you finally rolling onto your side, hand searching the bed for him.
Only, he wasn't there.
You were alone.
Sitting up, you glanced around the room. His bedroom. The door to the en-suite was open and he was nowhere to be seen. The alarm clock on the nightstand read 13:27 and you felt a wave of embarrassment. He'd probably been gone for hours and you hadn't even noticed.
Your body ached as you sat, clutching the sheet to your naked form, looking around for your clothes, but your dress was nowhere to be found. All you could find were the tattered remains of your panties, set aside like a trophy atop a set of drawers.
You waited a few more minutes, hoping that Steve would return, but the house seemed silent around you. You couldn't just stay in bed waiting for him all day. Besides that, you really needed to pee.
Pulling the sheet with you, you slipped into the en-suite, taking a moment to glance around first at the large claw-foot bathtub, then the large shower cubicle. The room itself was bigger than your bedroom...
Or, well, not your bedroom anymore, you supposed since you didn't have a home to go to.
You did what you needed to do and lingered for a few minutes, cleaning yourself up while casually looking over Steve's things, indulging yourself and sniffing a few of his toiletries. It was no wonder he smelled so good. During the course of your snooping, you found his laundry hamper and decided to grab the shirt on the top of the pile.
Enveloped in his scent, you wanted nothing more than to return to bed and wait for him to return, hoping that he'd fuck you again. (And again, and again.) But you couldn't. For all you knew, he was waiting for you somewhere else in the house, desperate to get rid of you now that he'd had his fill.
It was a sobering thought and exactly what you needed.
With your panties torn and ruined, you had no choice but to slip out of his room in nothing but his shirt. Thankfully it came down to your knees but as you walked through the long corridor you still felt practically naked.
You hadn't noticed just how big the house was last night but now, in the cold light of day, you realised that house probably wasn't the right word. Mansion was more like it.
You turned a corner that led onto a landing with a double staircase, one to your left the other, closer to your right. Glancing over the banister, you looked down at the large entrance hall and spotted someone. She had her back to you, so you cleared your throat as you made your way down stairs, alerting her to your presence.
A maid, you realised. The house was so big they had a maid.
She looked at you like it was perfectly normal to have a half-naked omega roaming the halls of the house. Maybe it was, maybe you were just the most recent in a long line. Fuck, could this day get any worse?
"Sorry, I'm looking for â"
"Mr Barnes is the only one here right now and he's in the kitchen," she said with a friendly enough smile but the tone of someone who had better things to be doing. When she noticed your confusion, she waved her hand. "Down there, last door on the right."
You muttered your thanks and started towards the kitchen, hoping that Mr Barnes was Steve and that he'd at least offer you some breakfast before kicking you out.
Your heart sank at the sight of Bucky, leaning over the counter, waiting for the coffee machine.
You stepped back, wanting to retreat before he noticed you, but â
"Morning, doll. Want a coffee?"Â
The tone of his voice should have bothered you almost as much as the smug smile on his lips, but something else caught your attention, something you hadn't noticed the night before.Â
His arm.
Or... not his arm. It was a metallic prosthetic.
What had happened to him?
Fuck, was it offensive to want to know? Were you staring? Why were you staring? Oh god, did he know you were staring?
Swallowing around the lump that had firmly lodged itself in your throat, you managed to nod. "Uh, yeah, coffee would be great."
If he noticed or cared that you had been staring at his arm, he didn't let it show. He just turned his attention back to the coffee maker. "You take it with cream or sugar?"
You remained in the doorway, warily eyeing his back â and not at all taking in the way his tight tee-shirt showed off his toned body.
(Imagine digging our nails into those shoulders, that voice in your head crooned, holding on tight as he fucks us.)
You couldn't tell if it was the fact he was being nice to you or the very real idea that spending a night with an alpha had rewired you on some baser level, but it took everything you had to keep your distance from him.
"Yes," you said, then, "both. Three spoons of sugar, please."
He gave a soft laugh that sent a strange thrill through you.
(Yes, make him happy. Make him want us.)
"That's a lot of sugar for someone who's already so sweet." A cold shiver crawled down your spine, both from his words and the way he looked at you when he turned, mug in hand. There was a hunger in his eyes that was all alpha. "Here you go, doll."
He didn't hand you the mug, he just placed it down on the counter beside him, waiting for you to go to him.
It felt like a trap.Â
You lingered in the doorway for a few seconds, torn between refusing the coffee and getting out of there, and showing him that, whatever this was, he wasn't going to get to you. Stubborn pride had you going for the second option, and you instantly regretted it.
His nose twitched as you took that first step, then the corner of his lips tugged upwards. Your quick attempt at cleaning yourself up clearly hadn't been enough to beat his sensitive alpha senses.
"So, was it everything you hoped it'd be?" He asked before you could even reach for the mug. His gaze slid down your body, the look so brazen that it almost felt like a physical caress trailing down to your bare legs and back up again. "I could hear you, you know. With the way you were moaning, anyone would think you'd never been fucked by an alpha before."
Your cheeks heated and your thighs pressed together of their own volition. It didn't take long for him to put two and two together, his grin growing wider.
"Shit, no wonder you were so eager." He stood away from the counter and took the smallest of steps to put himself between you and the door. "No wonder you were so willing to put out for an alpha who won't keep you."
You turned and shifted, trying to create some space between you, only to find yourself backed into a corner. Pressing yourself back, you tried to keep your head high, defiant, but you made the mistake of taking a steadying breath, breathing in his scent. Your head swam as he closed the distance, stopping in front of you and caging you in with hands on either side of you.
If you screamed, would someone come to help you?
(Why would we scream?)
"I can't blame him," Bucky muttered, bowing his head and pressing his face into the crook of your neck, just as he had last night. He inhaled and your legs trembled. "You smell fucking delicious."
"You're a pig," you said, but your words lacked any sharpness.
He was disgusting. The whole situation was disgusting but â fuck, you could already feel that familiar, needy heat blooming inside you.
"I think you like it. I think you get off on me treating you like shit," he continued, pressing closer, letting the tip of his nose graze the length of your gland.
It was so brazen and unexpected that you froze, letting him press as close as he wanted.
"N-no. You're wrong," you said in a breathless whisper. "I think you're disgusting."
"Liar," he said, taking another deep inhale. "You're dripping under that shirt. I can smell it. Did he not satisfy you last night? Did the good guy routine not do it for you? Were you faking all of those screams?"
Stubble scratched against your sensitive skin as he pressed a wet kiss to your gland. You let slip a keening whine, unable to control yourself. Another deep breath filled your lungs with his scent, distracting you as he lifted you and placed you on the counter.Â
Bucky stepped between your legs and you felt the cold press of metal trailing up your thigh â his fingers. He was slipping his fingers between your legs.
"He won't keep you," he muttered again, his tongue slipping out to lave your gland, causing your whole body to jolt, trying to push closer to him. "But, before he lets you go, I'm sure we'll have plenty of fun with you."
(Yes, yes, yes â oh fuck, yes, your hindbrain cried, fighting to overwhelm your common sense.)
At some point you'd raised your hands to push him away, but now they just sat on his strong chest, gripping his shirt, unable to let go. You were at the mercy of your biology as his fingers reached the apex of your thighs and a single metal digit ran through your embarrassingly slick folds.
"Did he tell you that we share sometimes?" He muttered against your neck with another wet kiss while his finger teased your clit. "Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you? Two alpha's fucking your tight little â"
He pulled back, leaving you dazed and barely breathing, an uncontrollable want thrumming through every fibre of your being. You let him go, though your hindbrain mourned the loss of his touch. It wasn't until he'd returned to his spot by the coffee maker that you had the sense to close your legs.
Just in time for Steve to appear.
Steve looked at you, then at Bucky.Â
"What did you do?" He asked, not sounding angry, just put out.
"Nothing," Bucky grunted. Steve's gaze hardened and fraction and Bucky headed to the door. "If you don't want to share her, you should've said."
Steve stepped aside, letting Bucky leave. His gaze followed after the other alpha before slowly turning back to you, taking in the sight of you in his shirt, perched on the edge of the counter.
"Sorry about him."
"What's his problem, anyway?" You asked, slipping off the counter as casually as you could manage.
Steve let out a laugh. "That's a long story, sweetheart."
Ignoring the way your legs were trembling, you grabbed the coffee Bucky had made for you and took a slow drink, watching as Steve moved closer.Â
This time you didn't shrink back â when Steve moved towards you, it didn't feel like a predator hunting its prey â you watched him over your mug, and let him cage you against the counter just as Bucky had.
The thrum you felt inside of you was different with Steve. You still felt an uncontrollable want but it wasn't enough to render you senseless.Â
You kept drinking until he plucked the mug from your hand and put it back on the counter. His arms slipped around you and, before you could even think to ask what he was doing, he kissed you.
His tongue pressed against the seam of your lips and you eagerly parted for him, letting him kiss you with a deep hunger that quickly reignited the sparks that Bucky had lit inside you. There was something primal and claiming to it, like he was trying to wipe away whatever might have just happened between you and Bucky, like he knew but he didn't care.
And you let him. You gave yourself to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him close.
It didn't last and, despite your hindbrain wanting nothing more than to be bent over the kitchen counter and fucked within an inch of your life, Steve pulled back. But he didn't go far. His hand took yours and he all but pulled you from the kitchen.
You eagerly followed after, assuming that he was taking you back to bed, but instead of turning right at the top of the stairs, he turned left, leading you in the opposite direction from his bedroom.
You wanted to ask where he was taking you and what was going on. More importantly, you wanted to ask if he knew what Bucky had just done â you wanted to understand their dynamic and what Bucky had meant about sharing. Was that what you were there for, or would Steve see it as a betrayal if anything happened between you and Bucky?
Packs were always complicated. It was why you'd never considered joining one. In some packs omegas could belong to their alphas or to the whole pack. You weren't sure how Bucky and Steve worked â hell, you weren't even sure how many people were in their pack.
But Steve must have known. Not only did he seem to know Bucky well, he must have been able to smell him on you...
So, clearly that meant that he wasn't angry about it.
Your thoughts stopped as you were pulled into a bedroom. It was smaller than Steve's room, empty, with nothing more than a bed, a wardrobe, and a set of drawers. There was a door leading out onto a balcony and, beyond that, in the distance you could see the city.
He let go of your hand and turned to face you.
"What do you think?" He asked.
You gave him a confused look. "Of what?"
"The room â your room."
"My..."Â
Words failed you. There were too many things you wanted to ask, so many things you wanted to say. He was just giving you a place to stay? Why couldn't you stay in his room with him? From the way he'd kissed you in the kitchen he clearly still wanted you...
"You need a place to stay and we've got plenty of space," he explained. âThat is... if you want it...â
(Stay... stay for the alpha. He's giving us a gift. Thank him. Thank him.)
The little voice was right in the worst way. You needed a place to stay and he was giving you that. You should be grateful and not ask too many questions. No one had ever just done something nice for you before. There was always a catch, always something that they wanted before they gave you anything. But Steve was just offering you a place.
You surged forward, catching him off guard. You kissed him the way he'd kissed you in the kitchen, with an eager intensity, giving yourself over to him. But it didn't feel like enough. All of your senses felt like they were cranked up to eleven and you needed to do something.
Dropping to your knees, you started to fumble with his belt, then his pants.
"You don't have to â" he stopped short the second you reached into his pants to grip his cock.
His arousal spiked as you started to stroke him, his scent helping you forget all about Bucky. You took a deep breath and allowed yourself to get lost in it, to let your hindbrain take the wheel and take whatever she wanted. For the first minute, you were content to stroke him, watching as he got hard in your grip, letting you see just how big he was.
Then you leaned in, chasing your hand with your tongue as it striped up and down the considerable length of him. It wasn't long before pre-cum started to leak from his tip and you made a show of greedily licking it up. His breath caught and your whole body heated. You were pleasing him, making him gasp. You were in control.
You gave a slow and sensual lick, swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock before sliding your lips over him and slowly starting to take him into your mouth. Your movements were deliberate and slow to begin with, wanting to show him not just that you appreciated his offer but that you were worthy of it, worthy of a place in his life. Maybe he wouldn't claim you, but did that really matter if he was willing to keep you safe?
Moaning, you started to bob your head, following the movement with your hand, making sure no inch of him went untouched. Even though this was all for him, you quickly felt your own arousal starting to build. One glance up at him through your lashes was almost enough to undo you.
When his fingers slipped into your hair, you moaned around him, some part of you eager to give up the control you'd literally just been celebrating.
His hips jerked forward, causing the crown of his cock to nudge the back of your throat. Your eyes watered and you softly gagged, but you didn't stop, sucking in your cheeks as your free hand gripped his hip. The sound of your wet lips on his skin coupled with his heavy breathing had you fighting the urge to slip your hands between your thighs â or worse, grinding yourself against his boot.
You relaxed your throat and managed to take a little bit more of him. His fingers twitched in your hair and his gaze darkened with want, obviously enjoying the sensation of your throat around him. You gulped and tried to swallow, tried to take more and more, feeling needy and greedy, desperate for everything you could get. A tear rolled down your cheek from your watering eyes, but you paid it no mind. You were enjoying yourself too much to stop.
Muffled moans started to spill more freely from you, each one vibrating around his cock and causing his hips to jerk. You trailed your tongue up and down him, tracing the thick vein on the underside of his cock, giving him everything you could to try and make him happy before giving him what he really wanted.
What every alpha wanted.
Control.
You found his hand on the back of your head and gave it a squeeze, silently giving him permission to take over.
A low sound came from the back of his throat, a purely alpha sound that made you tremble. His grip tightened on your hair, almost painfully so, and he started to move his hips.
"Such a good little omega," he grunted.
(A good omega for our alpha, your hindbrain whined.)
You had to grip his waist to keep yourself steady as he set a faster pace, chasing his pleasure. His groans were the final straw â you couldn't help yourself, you had to slip your hand between your thighs and sate the urgent need inside you. There was something about him being in charge that made you lose all control and act every bit the omega.
"Are you â" he didn't even have to finish the question.
The sight of you on your knees in front of him, his cock in your mouth and your hand between your thighs had him practically growling. And that just made you want more.
(Yes, yes, yes... make the alpha happy, make the alpha keep us. We want to stay with the alpha. We want this. Over and over and over.)
Your fingers teased your clit with a rough and desperate rhythm, trying to keep time with his thrusts. You stared up at him feeling an odd sense of contentment washing over you, like you were exactly where you needed to be.
Pleasure quickly began to build inside you. It had been building since your run-in with Bucky and, now, it was approaching fever pitch.Â
Steve gave you a warning before he came, but you had no intention of stopping, and hearing him groaning your name was more than enough to push you over the edge too. You swallowed thickly as finished in your mouth, making sure not a single drop went to waste. The taste of him on your tongue was intoxicating, and you already knew youâd never have enough of it.
When he was done, he slumped back against the set of drawers, tucked himself away, and offered you a hand up.
Your legs trembled, but you managed to stand again, eagerly pressing your body to his as he snaked a possessive arm around your waist.
"I canât keep you," he said with a soft exhale. "I won't claim you, but..."
That one little syllable hung in the air, giving you a small slither of hope that your life was finally going to get better.
"But?"
"But there's a place for you here, if you want it."
"A... place?" You had a thousand questions but you weren't sure how to ask them. You were still trembling from your orgasm, still pressed so close to him, wrapped up in his arms and in his scent.
"Stay here and I'll take care of you. All your needs, all your urges," he said, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. "I'm willing to do everything an alpha would do for their omega, except claim you."
"You'll take care of me?" You asked. Steve nodded. "What do you get out of it?"
"I have urges too," he shrugged. "My line of work makes it hard for me to have an omega, but you just sort of fell into my lap, and I can't resist a damsel in distress."
His line of work? How did running a club (several clubs) make it hard for him to have an omega?
"There's plenty of space here, and I have the money to support you until you find something more permanent," he continued. "And besides, I want more nights like last night..."
Your legs trembled and you pressed yourself closer to him. He was going to let you stay so he could have you there any time he wanted to fuck. Maybe it should have bothered you, maybe you should have wanted more, but your heart had been wounded by Rick and you didn't want to go through that again. You didn't want to get attached if he didn't want you the same way.
"Okay," you said softly, pressing your face against his chest.
(We'll make him want to keep us. Make him want to claim us.)
"Good, I'll take you to get your things," He looked at you and smiled. "As much as I like seeing you in my clothes, I need to be able to think about something other than your body. I checked the security footage from last night,your ex left with your purse. We'll get everything of yours and you'll never have to see him again."
It was as if he'd already known that this was how things would go â not the blowjob, but you agreeing to stay with him and unofficially be his omega. Again, it should have bothered you, should have at least given you pause to wonder if you were being manipulated or used just for sex, but the scent of his arousal was still thick around you and the taste of him lingered on your tongue.
"But, I should warn you, there are rules to living here with us," he said, cupping your cheek and making sure your eyes were on him.
"Rules?" You repeated, a lump forming in your throat. "What kind of rules?"
His thumb brushed over the apple of your cheek, in a tender but possessive way, making you want to agree to anything he asked of you.
"You can't go out on your own â if you need to go somewhere, either me or Bucky will take you," Steve said. "Anything you see or hear here needs to stay between us, no matter what it is or how important you think it might be. And I need to know that I can have you whenever I want to. If you find another alpha who's worthy of you and you want to leave, I'll let you go, but until then, you're mine."
You lost yourself in his blue eyes and rich scent and nodded. Losing some of your freedom was a small price to pay if it meant being looked after by an alpha like him. If it meant being in his arms and in his bed.
He smiled and slowly released you from his grasp.
"There's some clothes in the drawer â you're a little bit smaller than Nat, but you should be able to find something that fits."
"Nat?" Your head swam as you took a step back, some desperate part of you protesting the slightest space between your bodies.
"Are you jealous, omega?" He asked, not even bothering to hold back his smile.
"No, I just..."Â
Okay, so you weren't jealous, but if this Nat was another omega, you knew you would be.
"She's part of the pack," Steve explained. "Another alpha."
You frowned. Alpha's were rare and it was unusual to find two in a pack, never mind three. "Another alpha?"
"We're not a typical pack," was all he offered. "Have a shower and get dressed, omega. Get yourself settled in, then come downstairs. I'll take you to get your things."
He left before you could think to stop him and your hindbrain mourned his loss as if you'd never see him again. You wondered if you'd ever get used to being around alphas and the way they made you feel. It didn't quite match how you'd expected it to be, but you certainly weren't complaining.
Once he was gone, you slipped into the ensuite bathroom and took a quick shower. Then you started to familiarise yourself with the room, easily finding the clothes that he had mentioned. Whoever this Nat was, she was bigger than you â not surprising, given she was an alpha â and the first pair of jeans you tried on almost drowned you. Even her leggings were too long.
You settled for a light, summer dress â it was still too big, but the loose fit wasn't quite as noticeable once you cinched the waist with a belt. And you felt a lot more comfortable not wearing panties with the dress. That was a line you didn't want to cross; it was all well and good borrowing some clothing, but wearing someone else's underwear was another matter entirely. You found a light grey jacket in the wardrobe that matched the blue dress, and that just left shoes.
Padding back downstairs, you could hear Steve and Bucky talking in the kitchen.
"How long?" Bucky asked, and you stilled a few steps from the door.
"As long as she needs." Steve.
"Do you think it's safe keeping her â"
"I'm not keeping her, Buck."
"Does she know that?" Bucky asked, and you could picture the smug look on his face.
"She knows. And I set some ground rules for her. She won't get in the way. She's a good omega."
(He thinks we're good. We are good. We'll be the best he's ever had. We'll make him want to keep us, your hindbrain squealed.)
"Yeah, and you know why that is, don't you?" Bucky said.
"Enough, that's not â" Steve fell silent.
You waited a beat, then started to worry that they knew you were there, listening in. When they didn't continue, you started to move, walking into the kitchen as if you'd only just come downstairs.
Steve's eyes raked up and down your body, his gaze causing gooseflesh on every inch of skin he looked at.
You forced a slow breath, reminding yourself how acute the alphas' senses were, and how easily they could tell when you were aroused. But, when you allowed yourself a glance at Bucky, you realised you couldn't tell which of the alphas was affecting you the most. You hated it. You didn't want to feel any emotion inspired by Bucky aside from annoyance, but you couldn't say with any certainty that the weakness in your knees was all because of Steve either.
"Are you ready to go?" Steve asked.
"Yeah, I just need my shoes," you answered.
Steve's gaze dropped to your bare feet and â fuck, how did that turn you on? You wished that you'd spent more time with alphas in the past, just so you could understand how much of what you felt was normal and how much of it was just them.Â
"They're by the door. I had them cleaned for you."
Your eyes caught Bucky's as you turned to leave the kitchen, and heat instantly started to pool low in your stomach. As much as you wanted to hate him, there was just something about him, something that made your insides thrum with a hunger you couldn't explain. He was a disgusting pig but, somehow, the draw to him was stronger than it was to Steve.
Shaking your head, you pushed the thought away. You'd ignore it. Ignore him. Steve was the one offering to look after you, the one that wanted you around. Steve was the one who'd get your attention.
It took less than a minute to find your boots and pull them on. A skitter of pleasure ran through you just at the sight of them; cleaned and shined, looking good as new. If this was how thoroughly Steve was going to look after you, then you were going to have a very comfortable time with him.
You'd just have to make sure you avoided Bucky from now on...
"No," Bucky said as you returned to the kitchen.
"You heard Sam, he needs me to deal with it," Steve said, shooting you an apologetic look the second he noticed you. "I need to go take care of something at the club. Bucky is going to take you to get your things."
"What? No, I â" you started and stopped just as abruptly when Steveâs eyebrow raised at your very quick protests. "I can wait."
"Sweetheart," Steve said softly, "it's okay, Buck'll take good care of you. Besides, if you're sticking around, you two really should get to know each other."
Bucky's words from earlier rang in your ears; did he tell you that we share sometimes?
"Fine. I'll take her." Bucky spoke before you got the chance to think of an excuse.
"Great." Steve pressed a kiss to your forehead and left, barely giving you a second to even wrap your head around what was happening.
It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room.Â
Bucky said nothing.Â
You said nothing.Â
You waited for a hole to open up beneath your feet and swallow you whole but it never happened.
"C'mon then, doll." The words felt like a death sentence as they left his lips because you weren't sure what being alone with him again was going to do to you.
But you followed after him as he led you out the side door to a dark SUV and got in when he opened the door for you. The only words you managed to speak were your former address when he asked for it. Then, you spent the whole ride across town awkwardly staring forward, not wanting to look his way. You tried your damnedest not to breathe, not wanting his scent filling your nose and lungs.
If Bucky noticed any of it, he kept it to himself, seeming content to just quietly drive you across the city.
Neither of you spoke until he pulled up outside Rick's building.
"What are you doing?" You asked as Bucky got out of the car.
"Helping you get your things."
"You're not coming with me."
"He put his hands on you last night, there's no chance I'm leaving you alone with him."
The look on Bucky's face told you that there was going to be no reasoning with him, but that didn't stop you from trying. "I'll be fine. He's never been like that before. And, besides, I hit him first..."
"Seriously? You think that makes it okay?"
No. You didn't. But it had taken Bucky saying it to make you realise it. You shouldn't have lashed out at Rick, but he never should've raised his hand to you either.
"Fine," you grumbled.
You didn't say another word as you led him up to the little fourth floor apartment that had been, until last night, your home. It wasn't until you reached the door that you started to wonder what you were going to find if you knocked â had he already moved Cindy in? Were you about to interrupt some tender moment between the two? Would you be able to face her without breaking her nose?
Fortunately, when the door was answered, it was just Rick. In his boxers. Looking bruised and hungover.
"You came home?" He said, almost sounding happy to see you, but that stopped the moment he saw Bucky lurking behind you. "Oh..."
"I just want my things," you said, trying to keep any and all hurt from your voice. You hated how you suddenly felt, standing in front of him like an open wound, and you felt like such an idiot for ever thinking that there might be a future with him.
Rick looked at you, then at Bucky before standing aside and letting you in.
Bucky followed after you like an unwanted shadow as you stepped into the apartment. Compared to Steve's house â or was it Steve's and Bucky's? â the apartment was small, little more than a shoebox. It felt suffocating to be back there after just one night in an actual mansion.
Rick followed Bucky â though he kept a very respectful distance.
You tried your best to ignore both of them and focused on gathering your things from the bedroom. You started with the more expensive things; your laptop and drawing tablet.
No one said anything until the silence got to be too much for Rick.
"Is this how it's going to be now?" He asked. "The silent treatment whenever we're in the same room?"
"There is no now. I'm getting my stuff and then I'm gone," you said, keeping your back to him as you unplugged your printer. "We're never going to be in the same room again."
"Look, I know I fucked up and things didn't pan out the way you wanted them to, but we could still be friends. You don't need to run off with an alpha you don't even know."
Bucky gave a low grunt that had Rick looking close to shitting himself, but the alpha didn't say anything.
You turned to glare at your ex. "Friends? You raised your hand to me. I never want to see you again."
"Fuck, do you alway have to be so fucking dramatic? You hit me first, remember?"
"Yeah and you deserved it."
Rick shook his head and let out a bitter laugh. "I should've known better than to date a fucking omega â this is why I chose Cindy over you. She doesn't get emotional over dumb shit."
It was strange in hindsight how often he'd made comments about you being emotional or for getting upset. Worst still was how often you'd allowed yourself to believe him. For eighteen months he'd made you feel like you were too sensitive just because you were an omega, and you'd let so much shit slide because of it.
"Yeah, well I hope you make each other miserable. I feel sorry for the baby,' you snapped back.
Rick took a step towards you but thought better of it as Bucky straightened.
"Just get your stuff and get the fuck out." He turned and walked out, leaving you alone with Bucky again.
"He cheated on you?" Bucky asked once the beta was gone. There was an anger in his voice that you didn't understand, partly because you'd assumed that he already knew but mostly because you didn't expect him to care.
"What d'you care?" You said, turning your attention back to your packing.
He was silent for a beat, then; "he usually talk to you like that?"
You shrugged, still not sure why any of it mattered to him.
"I should've broken his fucking jaw."Â
It wasn't some idle threat. He started towards the door, giving you no time to think before moving. You put yourself in front of him, hands on his arms, trying to stop him.
"Don't. Just... just leave it." You said. "He's not worth it."
You instantly realised your mistake. Too close. You were standing far too close. And, just as it had earlier, his scent started to infect you. Bucky followed as you stumbled backwards, and you found yourself pressed against the dresser. His gaze dropped to your lips and your heart started to race as he crowded you.
"What are you doing?" You hissed, daring to glance towards the door, making sure Rick wasn't lurking.
"Finishing what we started this morning." His head bowed and he let his lips ghost against yours. "I know you're not wearing anything under that dress..."
You almost lifted your face to force his lips to do more than just graze yours but the last vestiges of your common sense won out. Slamming your hands against his chest, you pushed him as hard as you could.
Bucky barely moved.
"Back off," you told him, despite the voice in your head pleading to let him bend you over the dresser and fuck you hard while your ex sat in the next room.
A low sound vibrated in the back of his throat and his head dipped again. He inhaled deeply and a tremor ran down your spine, heat licking through your core and giving him exactly what he wanted. Then he pulled away, grinning.
"Suit yourself," he shrugged. "Hurry the fuck up."
Two boxes, a suitcase, and a backpack later, your entire life was packed away, and you were ready to head back to your new home and figure out just what the fuck you were going to do.
A/NÂ : See what I mean about people being assholes in this one? Don't worry, the why's will be explained in later chapters. Anyway, thanks for the great response to the first part of this, I'm really glad people enjoyed it, and I hope you like what I have planned for it going forward.
Again, there's no set upload schedule for this one, but there is a tag list or you can subscribe to the story on Ao3.
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great week!
Plot Summary : When your boyfriend turns out to be cheating piece of shit, two alphas come to your rescue. One tells you he won't keep you and the other wants nothing to do with you, but that doesn't stop the pull you feel towards them. The closer you get, the more you discover about them, and about yourself.
Pairing : Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader / Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader
Story Rating : RÂ
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Cheating, pregnancy mention, and smut. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, love triangle(ish), and explicit smut. There is an unspecified age gap between Alphas and reader. All characters are a little darker than usual. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.Â
Word Count : 7.3k
A/N : Remember last year when I said I was working on a new Bucky thing? I found it, rewrote it, and here it is. Now it's kind of a Bucky and Steve sort of thing...
Chapter One
It was funny just how quickly everything could fall apart.
Hilarious even.
"It's nothing personal," he said with a fake smile, as if trampling all over your heart was a casual affair. "It's just... well, I always wanted a family some day..."
It wasn't the words that hurt, it was what he didn't say. Rick wanted a family, just not with you. He didn't have the balls to say the quiet part out loud; he didn't want to have kids with you because they would likely turn out to be omegas.
A year and a half ago, it wouldn't have bothered you. You would have shook his hand and wished him all the best â it wasn't like you didn't have a firsthand understanding of just how fucking difficult it was being an omega, after all. But he had taken up eighteen months of your life, happy to share your bed, your heats, without so much of a word about the future beyond the next day.
He'd let you get invested, let you believe that your relationship was going somewhere.
The beta hadn't cared about your designation when it had meant getting laid almost every single night and paid time off work every month to help with your heats.
Clearly, he'd realised that the clock was ticking and he either needed to commit to you for the family he wanted, or find someone else.
But, asshole that he was, he'd decided to do it in the middle of a night club.
On your birthday.
And you â stupid, stupid you â had let yourself hope that his recent awkwardness around you had been because he was planning on making things official and offering to claim you.
So, to say you were upset was an understatement.
Fucking livid was closer to the mark.
"Are you even listening to me?" He had the audacity to snap at you, pulling you from thoughts of murder.
You stared, almost lost for words â how did he think that he was the injured party in this?
The urge to lash out started to grow inside you, the urge to slam your first into his stupid face. But you didn't. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of behaving like the overly emotional omega he always claimed you were whenever you argued. If this was the end, you were going to end things with dignity, keeping your head held high.
"Yes, I'm listening," you snapped back. "I'm waiting for the part where you explain why you decided to wait until now to tell me."
It was cruel and, while Rick was a lot of things, he was rarely ever cruel.
He let out a slow breath. "Because I didn't want you to hear it from someone else..."
"Hear what?" Had you missed something?
"Cindy is pregnant."
Why did it matter that Cindy was...
Oh. It took an embarrassingly long moment for the penny to drop. But when it did, any and all thoughts of remaining dignified abandoned you.
"You were cheating on me?" You seethed.
"I wouldn't call it cheating. What we had was fun, but we both knew it was never going to â"
You didn't wait for him to finish before walking away. He called after but made no attempt to follow you. At least, not until he saw where you were headed.
You crossed the dancefloor, heading back to where your so-called friends were sitting, all oblivious to what had just happened. Cindy was smiling over her drink, looking so fucking smug. You'd never been close to her, or any of Rick's friends really, but you'd always made an effort to try and be nice to them.
And you, idiot that you were, had allowed yourself to believe that the betas had accepted you, that they saw you as one of their own.
Next thing you knew, there was a glass in your hand and Cindy was wearing your strawberry daiquiri. The sight of her blonde hair and white dress stained red filled you with a sweet sense of revenge. It took a moment for everyone to catch up and realise what you'd done â all while everyone shifted away from Cindy and the spreading liquid.
"You little omega bitch," Cindy spat, climbing to her feet.
 "Beta skank," you retorted.
She stepped forward and you balled your fist, ready to throw a punch, but before you could swing, you were lifted off the ground.
Rick pulled you away, while everyone else rushed to comfort poor Cindy.
You kicked and thrashed as he half-pulled, half-carried you across the club, not letting go until you were in a secluded corner by the bathrooms. The second you were on your feet again, you swung for him, slapping him hard across the face. It caught him off guard and sent him reeling to the side, but he was ready when you went to hit him again.
He caught your wrist and twisted it, forcing your back against the wall.Â
"I get that you're pissed," he said through gritted teeth, easily holding you in place as you struggled, "but I can talk to Cindy, tell her that you still need me. I can still be there â y'know, for heats and shit, just until â"
The nerve, the fucking audacity of him had you driving your knee into his crotch, making it so it would be a very long time before he'd even be able to think about sex again.
He let go, staggering back as rage spread across his face.
"You little fucking â" his hand rose and you shrank back, bracing for a hit that never came.
Before he'd even started to swing, he was tugged backwards with such a force he almost fell over. He managed to recover but, instead of going for you again, he turned to throw a punch at whoever had grabbed him.
A second later, Rick was on the ground, blood pouring from his nose.
You dared to look at your saviour; blonde, tall, athletic, and â
Oh, he was an alpha.
Rick had no idea. His muted beta senses couldn't pick up the signs like your omega sense could. So, he got back up, thinking he stood a chance at winning a fight.
He didn't.
He took another swing and found himself on his ass again, a pained oof escaping him as he hit the floor. His eyes met yours, and you couldn't tell if he was expecting you to step in and save him, or pleading with you to help. After what he'd done, he was getting nothing from you.
"Get him out of here, Buck," the alpha said. You realised that he wasn't alone when another alpha stepped around him. "And make sure he doesn't come back."
"With pleasure." While the first alpha had the looks of an Abercrombie and Fitch model, the second had a dangerous air about him that made your legs feel weak. His eyes caught yours and your heart stuttered. Then he was gone, dragging Rick across the floor by the collar.
You sagged back against the wall, the adrenaline draining from your body and leaving you feeling exhausted. You were alone. Completely and utterly alone. In the space of five minutes, your entire life had fallen apart.
"Hey, are you okay?" He said, reminding you that the alpha was still there.
He stepped closer and you realised how pathetic you must have looked, slumped against the wall like a frightened animal.
"Yeah, I, uh..."
You finally looked at him. Really looked. Alpha through and through, beautiful in a way that had you blinking, thinking it was your omega sense playing a trick. A shuddering breath escaped you as his scent reached you; an earthy smell that reminded you of a forest after the rain.
Your omega stirred inside you â it had been so long since you'd last been around an alpha, and your instinctual desire left your cheeks burning with embarrassment. Something in the way he looked at you had you wondering if you were the first omega he'd seen in a while. After all, omegas were even rarer than alphas in places like New York.
All it took was a sniff from him to confirm it. He knew what you were.
It should have scared you, knowing how easily an alpha could turn your biology against you, knowing how their urges could be almost as uncontrollable as yours at times. But it didn't.
A shiver ran up your spine as his expression softened.
"There's no need to be afraid. No one is going to hurt you here," he said, offering you his hand. "Come with me."
Your response was instinctual and automatic, slotting your hand into his. The contact was enough to have heat sparking in your belly, though you tried to ignore it.
His fingers wrapped around yours, grip firm but loose, giving you the illusion that you could escape him if you wanted to. Though, rationally, you knew you stood no chance at outrunning an alpha.
People stepped aside for him as he led you across the club, eyes widening at the sight of him. Betas, all of them â they had no idea that he was an alpha, but they could all see the gorgeous specimen of a man as he passed them.
A familiar face caught your attention. Cindy gaped at you and the man holding your hand, her dress stained despite her best attempts to dry it.
"Friend of yours?" The alpha asked.
"No, she just ruined my life."
"We'll see about that," he said, giving a subtle smile.
He led you beyond the velvet rope that separated the VIP area from the main club, the bouncer instantly stepping aside for him. You thought you heard someone call him sir, but you were too busy taking in the clean and much quieter area, away from the bustle of the dance floor.
His hand slipped from yours as you reached a booth and pressed gently on your lower back, urging you to sit. the hand trailed from your back to your waist as you followed his silent command, skin heating beneath his touch.
Was it shock or some innate desire that had you following him without question? Were you thinking clearly, or was your hindbrain in the driving seat?
You were almost disappointed when he slid into the booth opposite you instead of sitting next to you. And, while there were other people in the VIP area, your every sense was trained on him. It was almost overwhelming â his proximity, the way your emotions were still running rampant â and you'd never felt anything like it.
(He saved you, the alpha protected you, heâs big and strong, everything we want, everything we needed â)
Shaking your head, you tried to silence your hindbrain.
Without a word, three glasses were placed on the table, along with a bottle of whisky. He must have given some sign to the bartender, because he hadn't uttered a word.
He filled two glasses, then slid one to you.
"It'll help settle your nerves," he said.
Your hand trembled as you reached for the glass, eyes still fixed on him. It should have worried you how your every thought was him; his approving gaze as you knocked back the drink, his scent, his smile, and the way his throat bobbed when he drained his own glass.
The whisky burned its way down your throat, causing the heat that was building low in your belly to intensify. Realistically, you knew it was just biology but, honestly? You were more than happy to go with it after the night you'd had.
That was why you didn't say anything or try to stop him when he refilled your glass.
"I'm Steve," he said.
You'd been so caught up in everything that you hadn't even thought about his name. You quickly offered your name in a low, timid voice.
There was silence for a moment, like he was waiting for you to continue, to address the elephant in the room.
"You're â you're an alpha."
"I am," he said, not bothering to point out the obvious about your biology.
Despite already knowing it, his confirmation set your hindbrain buzzing and had the purely omega part of you desperate to be let out. And you almost let it, but it was dangerous to give in to that side of your nature, no matter how sweetly it begged.
You took another drink, scrunching your nose as the alcohol burned its way down your throat again.
"Want to talk about it?" Steve offered.
The question alone was enough to send you into a tailspin â you'd done nothing wrong, but you still felt ashamed, like you should have done more to keep Rick faithful. As an omega, you weren't meant to be alone and it felt like a failing to still be single at your age.
Your gaze dropped to the table.
"Was that guy your boyfriend?" He continued.
"He was," you said. Steve stayed quiet, letting you decide if you wanted to elaborate. "I just found out he's been cheating on me and she's pregnant."
He blew out his cheeks and shook his head. "He sounds like a real idiot to me, sweetheart. You're better off without him."
Sweetheart? Your omega preened.
"How long were you together?"
"About a year and a half," you said, taking another drink. "He said he wanted a family, just not with me..."
"Because you're an omega?"
"Yeah â not that he cared about my designation when it meant getting laid every night." The second you realised what you'd said, your cheeks grew hotter. Maybe you'd had enough to drink.
"Don't worry, I'm sure it won't take him long to realise he made a mistake letting you go."
You smiled, and it was strange because you couldn't remember the last time you'd just smiled at anything. Hell, you couldn't even remember the last time anyone had been genuinely nice to you without some ulterior motive.
You reached for your glass again and took another drink, trying to drown the realisation that you couldn't remember the last time you'd actually been happy.
"I don't know why he had to wait to tell me on my birthday though..." you said, not able to hold it in.
"It's your birthday?" He asked, annoyance lacing his tone.
You nodded.
"In that case, we need to celebrate."
He refilled your glass again, sparking a longing ache inside of you â you wanted him to look after you, to take care of you. You wanted to belong and be kept.
No â no, that wasn't what you wanted.
That was the alcohol and your hindbrain talking.
Only...
Even if you didn't want any of that, you needed it. So much of your life had been tied up in Rick and the future you thought you'd have. He'd helped support you financially, and all of your stuff was still at his place...
"Happy birthday," Steve said, pulling you back to the moment as he raised his glass in toast.
You raised your glass in response, then took a slow drink, eyes dropping again.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I just..." you fell silent for a few seconds, "I don't know. I just thought by the time I got to this age that things would be different."
"How did you think it was going to be?" He sat back, giving you space to think.
"I thought I'd at least have a steady job, or some money saved..."
"You don't have a job?"
You shook your head. "I work freelance mostly, but it doesn't exactly pay well," you explained. "It's hard getting steady work when I can only work three weeks a month."
He gave an understanding nod. While alpha's didn't have to suffer monthly because of their designation, every three or so months, their ruts would hit and their primal instincts would take control for a week.
Just the thought of Steve rutting had you shifting in your seat, blood running hot. You'd never been with an alpha, let alone one in rut. Your mouth went dry as you pictured it; him on top of you, behind you, inside you. You forced yourself to drain your glass just to take your mind off of it, but the buzz of alcohol was already dulling your inhibitions, making you want.
The problem with Rick was that he'd always encouraged these moments â though, admittedly, the beta had never affected you quite as much as Steve was managing to â he'd always been more than happy to end a night out or pull you into a bathroom if it meant getting his dick wet. Your heart fluttered every time Steve looked at you, sparking a visceral reaction in your body. That he was listening to you, showing an interest, made you feel seen in a way that you hadn't since you'd first started dating Rick.
He asked you a few questions about your work and you explained that you were an artist, but you mostly did graphic design because it paid better. Sometimes you'd do commission, things like portraits and paintings of people's pets, but it was mostly things like corporate logos that paid the bills.
Steven seemed interested â more interested than Rick had ever been â and kept asking you questions. Where were you from? A little town in Ohio. What brought you to New York? You wanted a change of scenery. Did you come to the club a lot? Yes, but only when Rick wanted to.
"We don't get many omegas in here," Steve said. You gave him a questioning look. "I â we â own the place."
"You own the club?" It shouldn't have surprised you, alpha's tended to be successful.
"This one and a couple of others across the city," he shrugged.
We. You wanted to ask what he'd meant by that but before you could find the words, someone slid into the booth beside you.
"He's been dealt with," the dark haired alpha said.
He pulled a cloth from his jacket and proceeded to wipe blood off his gloves. It should have unsettled you, terrified you even â what the fuck had he done to Rick? â instead more heat licked through your body, this time settling at your core. Steve's scent had been intoxicating enough, now that you had to contend with two alphas you felt like you were drowning and all you wanted to do was take a deep breath.
You were so used to being around betas that you didn't realise your own scent was betraying you until Bucky looked your way, his cold blue eyes narrowing as he took the smallest sniff. But you couldn't help it, couldn't control it. The whisky certainly wasn't helping. Smothered by two very distinct alpha scents, your hindbrain got bolder and harder to ignore.
(Imagine being between them, letting them hold you, touch you, fuck you, the voice in the back of your head said. She was really starting to get out of control.)
"This is Bucky," Steve said, introducing his friend either missing or ignoring how your breathing had turned shallow.
When he introduced you to Bucky, you managed a smile.
"Did her friend give you any trouble?" Steve asked.
"No, but I made sure he won't come back. And I had a nice long chat about him raising his hand to women," Bucky said, filling himself a glass and shooting you a glance. "He won't bother you again."
Your brain practically misfired; half an hour ago you'd found out that your boyfriend was cheating on you, now you had two alpha's protecting you.
The thoughts in your head got louder and louder, your omega half wanting to throw herself at the alpha's. It was pathetic, but clearly you weren't above being a little pathetic when you were drunk and heartbroken.
"Keep her company for a minute. I need to go see Sam about something," Steve said, pulling you back to the moment. He slid out of the booth, and left you alone with Bucky.
For all of a second, you dared to hope that it would be easier to focus with only one alpha, but if anything it was harder. His scent was stronger, almost overpowering â probably because he was sitting closer. Burning wood and roasted coffee, strong, dark scents that made you tremble in anticipation. Though what you were anticipating, you couldn't quite say.
"He's not gonna keep you," Bucky said the moment Steve left the VIP area.
"What?"
"Steve. He likes to play the hero, but if you're looking for an alpha to claim you, it won't be him."
You didn't think he was saying it to be cruel, but it felt cruel. It made something in the back of your mind itch, and you wanted nothing more than to scratch it out.
"Are the two of you..." you left the question unfinished, knowing he'd be able to fill in the blanks. Steve had said we earlier, maybe that meant that he and Bucky were bonded or even mates. It wasn't entirely unheard of for two alpha's to mate.
"We're a pack."
Oh, that made sense. They had a pack bond â not quite the same as a romantic bond or a mating bond, but close enough.
"I don't want anything from him," you said, forcing yourself to keep your head up high.
Bucky smirked, his eyes running up and down your body. "You think I can't smell what you want?"
Squirming, you backed away from him, forcing yourself into the corner of the booth. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He didn't let you put any space between you, he slid closer, boxing you in. When he draped an arm across the back of the booth, your heart almost stopped. He leaned in close, that dangerous scent threatening to swallow you whole. "I can smell how wet you are."
You should have been disgusted. You should have pushed him away â especially as he tangled his fingers in your hair â but you didn't. There was just... something about him that held you in place. Even as he leaned closer, the tip of his nose grazed your throat, your mating gland.
A whimper slipped from your lips and he pulled away, a triumphant grin on his lips. "Typical omega."
"What â" the moment had left you too dazed to summon the ire you knew you should have been feeling, "â what the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Me? I'm not the one getting hot and bothered over someone I only just met."
"That's â I'm not." Where had the fight gone you'd had not an hour ago when you slapped Rick? Why were you letting this prick talk to you like that? Letting him nuzzle at your mating gland?
And why the fuck was your hindbrain desperate for you to press yourself closer to him?
"When he takes you to bed tonight, just remember that you'll be out in the morning."
You opened your mouth to respond just as Steve slid back into the booth.
"You two playing nice?" He asked, smiling at just how close Bucky was to you.
Bucky pulled away instantly. "I'll go check everything's okay in the office. Let me know when you want to leave."
He barely gave you a second glance as he knocked back his drink and stepped out of the booth. But you watched him and you hated yourself for it, almost as much as you hated how right he'd been. You were wet and, despite his warning about Steve, part of you was eager to offer yourself up to the alpha.
And if Bucky could read you that easily, you were pretty certain that Steve knew too.
"Don't mind him, he's a miserable old man." Steve said.
"I should go," you said abruptly, deciding that nothing good was going to come of any of this.
"What did he say to you?" He sounded almost resigned to the fact that Bucky must have said something terrible.
But, as uncomfortable as the interaction had been, you didn't want to cause drama in someone else's pack. "Nothing. Really. It's just getting late and I need to figure out where I'm staying tonight and â"
You fell silent with the awful realisation that you had no idea where your purse was. Where your phone was.
"What's wrong?"
"I left my purse with Rick's friends â everything was in there, my phone, my credit card..." your panic was palpable and a brief flicker of worry on Steve's face was enough to tell you he could smell it.
You made to slide out of the booth, but stopped when his hand covered yours. For a second your worry and panic just vanished, and all you could think about was how soft and warm his hand was.
Words failed as you looked at him, but he didn't need you to say anything. He gave a wave of his hand, drawing the bouncer to the table and quickly explained the situation. The big man nodded before heading out into the club proper to try and find you things. While you didn't think Rick or his friends would steal from you, they were no longer under any obligation to make sure no one else did.
"It's okay," Steve said, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand.
(The alpha is taking care of us, protecting us, comforting us... we should let him have us, your hindbrain whined.)
"Everything's fallen apart," you murmured, ignoring the voice telling you to throw yourself at him. "I've got no money, nowhere to go..."
"Don't worry about any of that. I'll make sure you're okay."
His thumb continued its tender caress and what little remained of your common sense started to slip away. So much so that your free hand drifted back to your glass and raised it to your lips.
"He said you won't keep me," you confessed, looking first at Steve's face, then his hand on yours. "Your friend. He said if you take me home, you won't keep me."
"Do you want to be kept?" He asked, thumb never stilling.
(YES.)
"N-no," you answered, all too aware of the spike in your arousal. "I don't want to be kept, I just want... I want to feel like I matter..."
It should have been harder to admit considering he was practically a stranger, but the alcohol mixed with the intoxicating scent of alpha had rendered you needy, making you want. By this point in the evening, you would have already fucked Rick and he would have done his best to sate your urges, instead you were sitting across from an alpha and contending with a longing ache between your thighs.
"I could make you feel like you matter," he said, voice turning low and deep.
"You... you could?"
He nodded. "I know exactly what an omega like you needs."
That was good because you had absolutely no idea what an omega like you needed.
The bouncer returned, explaining that your purse was nowhere to be found and that your 'friends' had left, but you were too caught up in what Steve had said and the promise that lurked beneath his words.Â
"Stay with me tonight while I track down your things." It wasn't an offer or a suggestion, more a command.
You nodded before even taking a second to think about it, but what else were you going to do? All of your so-called friends were really Rick's friends and, without your credit card, you wouldn't be able to stay at a hotel. The only other option was crawling back to Rick, and it would be a cold day in hell before you allowed yourself to do that.
No, an alpha wanted to care for you and your biology made it impossible to refuse.
His hand took hold of yours again and, without a word, he helped you from the booth. Your legs trembled beneath you and you couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol or what you were about to do. You stumbled and found yourself against his chest, an arm protectively wrapped around your waist.
"Easy there," he said softly.
(So strong, so protective... we can make him want to keep us...)Â
The heat that had been building inside you over the last couple of hours reached a fever pitch, every fibre of your being thrumming with an aching want that you'd never experienced before. It took every ounce of your frayed self-control to pull yourself away from him, instead of lingering and breathing in his scent.
You were a mess of urges and barely coherent thoughts as he led you out the back of the club to where a black SUV was parked.
Bucky was waiting by the car and shook his head when he saw you.
"Don't say I didn't warn you, doll," he muttered as he opened the back door.
"Leave it, Buck. She knows what she wants," Steve said, helping you into the car. You missed whatever Bucky grumbled in response.
Steve got into the car beside you, draping an arm around you and pulling you into his side. As Bucky got in and started the car, Steve nuzzled at your neck, lips and the tip of his nose grazing your gland.
You had to bite your lip to keep from whimpering, acutely aware the Bucky was right there.
"Don't worry about him, sweetheart," Steve murmured. "He doesn't care what we get up to back here."
His hand found your thigh and your hindbrain went into overdrive, wanting you to beg and plead for his touch. All rational thought abandoned you. If he'd dared to shift his hand higher, you would have let him â hell, you would have parted your legs for him. The needy ache between your thighs turned into a pulsing want, and when you heard Steve inhale, you knew he could smell your arousal.
"You really need this, don't you?" He said, still keeping his voice low â though, if you'd been thinking clearly, you would have known that Bucky could hear every word.
You nodded, angling your head to give him better access to your neck and slipping a little further into a state of mindless omega lust.
"You know... we could smell you the moment you got to the club," he continued, "but when we saw you with that beta, we assumed you were spoken for. If Iâd known what he was like, I wouldâve rescued you hours ago..."
There were no words, no rational thoughts left.
(He wanted us... he wanted us all night, your hindbrain sang in triumph.)
It was a short drive â at least, it felt short, but your grip on reality was tenuous at best while he was nuzzling at your neck â and the car was soon stopped in front of a large house, gated off from the rest of the world. You had no idea where you were, but you didn't care. All you cared about was Steve and the way he was leading you into his home.
(Alpha, alpha, alpha, the voice in your head chanted.)
The further you got into the house, the harder it became to ignore the scent of his arousal. It was suffocating. Every breath you took was him. You'd never experienced anything like it, beta scents were too muted, too bland to cause so visceral a reaction in you. Your own scent was out of control and long forgotten, but you didn't care about hiding it anymore. You wanted him.
A door clicked shut behind you, sealing you in a dimly lit room and, finally, his lips found yours.
He pressed you back against the door, caging you in with his body, devouring you with his kiss. You let slip a desperate whine, a purely omega sound that betrayed every ounce of your longing. Your knuckles ached and you realised that you were gripping his shirt, eagerly holding him in the kiss, as if you thought he might slip away from you.
"Are you sure you want this?" He asked.
"Yes."
He took a shuddered breath. "I won't keep you."
It should have stung, should have made you reconsider, but you were too far gone, fighting a losing battle against your hindbrain and your omega. Besides, you had needs and, even if it was only one night, you already knew he'd know exactly how to satisfy you.
(We can make him keep us, the voice in your head said again.)
"I know."
You barely got the words out before his lips were on you again. He lifted you, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning wildly as his hips pressed to yours and you felt the hard outline of his cock between your thighs.
"I can smell how wet you are," he groaned, grinding against you.
Your mind flashed back to the club, to Bucky, to the way it had felt as his nose grazed your gland, and you moaned again. Fuck â why were you thinking about that asshole while Steve had you in his arms? And why did you wonder what itâd feel like to be in his arms?
"Have you ever been with an alpha?"
"N-no," you answered, stammering as his hips shifted again.
A low sound vibrated from the back of his throat, a possessive alpha sound that made you tremble in his arms.
"Once you have an alpha, you'll never be satisfied with a beta again."
You were sure his words were meant as a warning, to let you know that you were about to cross a line, but you didn't care. He'd made you feel more in the last two hours than Rick had made you feel in eighteen months, and you needed it. You needed one night where life felt good.
Fingers tangled in his hair, giving a light tug, forcing him to look at you. "I know, I just... I need..."
You couldn't find the words, but he could.
"You need an alpha to take care of you?" He said and you nodded. "You want to feel like you matter â you do matter."
He turned, easily carrying you away from the door and further into the room. He placed you down beside the bed and made quick work of unzipping your dress, pushing it from your shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. Your hands started to tug at the buttons of his shirt, while Steve's hands explored the skin that he'd uncovered. You'd never been more glad of not wearing a bra.
Shrugging off his shirt, he stepped closer, forcing you backwards. The backs of your knees hit the bed and you fell back, landing with your legs splayed. An open invitation to the alpha. Through the gloom you could make out his eyes, fixed on you as he quickly stripped down to his boxers.
When he touched you again, he dragged his hand up your thigh to your panties. A sharp tug was all it took to rip them away from your body and, before you had time to think about it you felt his hot breath between your legs.
A soft but desperate keen escaped you as his fingers slipped through your slick arousal, spreading you open and bearing you to him as he â
"Oh fuck, Steve!" You cried the moment you felt his tongue on you.
Your hips jerked as his tongue ran through your folds, lapping your slick before moving to tease your throbbing clit. Nothing had ever felt so good, nothing had ever made you feel so desperate and needy. Every nerve in your body sparked with pleasure as his tongue moved, and every breath you took was him.
Fingers tangled in his hair, but when you tried to move, tried to grind yourself against his lips and tongue, he let out a low growl and pressed a hand to your stomach, pinning you down.
(Fuck, he's so dominant, submit, submit, submit, your hindbrain squealed in ecstasy.)
"Please!" You begged, not caring how loud you were being.
Every shred of restraint you possessed was officially gone, replaced entirely by your hindbrain and your omega desires. You were running on pure instinct, and that instinct said to lay back and take whatever the alpha was offering.
You came easily, your fingers tugging at his hair as you drowned in pure pleasure, desperate for more. He kept going, kept sliding the flat of his tongue against you until you were a shuddering, overstimulated mess. Already you were regretting that it would be a one night only thing.
The mattress dipped as Steve crawled up your body, lips and tongue exploring every inch of skin he came across. You gasped and whined as his teeth grazed your nipple, and â honestly? In that moment there wasn't a damned thing you wouldn't have done if he'd asked you to. He continued upwards after a few seconds, playfully nipping at your collarbone and kissing your neck before leaning over you.
Light filled the room and you couldn't suddenly see him perfectly. He'd turned on a lamp and was staring down at you with a barely restrained hunger. When he licked his lips, you realised that his chin was glistening with your slick. The delicious sight was so distracting that you didn't notice him reaching between your thighs until two fingers sank inside you.
He kissed you, swallowing the moan that tried to bubble out of you, and muffling his own groan.
His fingers moved, easily sliding in and out of your cunt, making you writhe beneath him. It wasn't enough. You needed more. You needed all of him. You wanted his cock.
"Soon," he murmured, as if he read your mind, bending and scissoring his fingers inside you. "I want to make sure you're ready. I don't want to hurt you."
At any other time you would have appreciated the sweetness of the gesture, but you were beyond sweetness. You were nothing more than a creature of pure need. He kissed you again before you could complain, a quiet display of who was in charge. And you loved it. You wanted more of it, for him to take complete control.
His thumb pressed against your clit with each plunge of his fingers and you felt that telltale tension starting to coil in your stomach again. You were going to come and then he was going to fuck you. The thought alone had your thighs trembling and you were so worked up that you almost screamed when his fingers bent inside you, teasing that special spot inside you.
The second orgasm was more intense than the first, enough that you started to purr as you moaned, your omega half wresting control from you completely.
How had you survived without the touch of an alpha for so long? How had you spent eighteen months with Rick when you could have been having something like this?
You whined as he withdrew his fingers, but your feelings of emptiness were quickly forgotten as he brought them to your lips and slipped them into your mouth. Moaning, you sucked his fingers, enjoying the taste of yourself on them. Your eyes closed, licking and sucking until he pulled his hand away.
When you looked again, he'd pulled a condom from the nightstand and was rolling it down his length. Your breath caught at the sight of him kneeling between your spread legs, his cock hard and â fuck, he was so much bigger than you were used to.
He finished with the condom and you pouted, your hindbrain sulking, wanting him to fuck you bare. It was a good thing he hadn't asked you because you probably would have begged him for it.
"Present for me, omega," he said, his voice suddenly much lower, more gravelly than before.
Oh, you realised, his alpha was finally coming out to play.
Your body shook and trembled, but you immediately did as you were told, clumsily moving to your hands and knees in front of him. It had been so long since you'd presented for anyone, but the moment you were settled, everything in your mind seemed to blank. This was where you belonged, where you were meant to be.
Your back arched as he dragged a finger down your spine and across to your hip, where he gripped you tight. The slightest nudge of his cock was all it took to have you moaning again, his hold stopping you from impaling yourself on him before he was ready. Sensitive and needy, you whined, unable to even form the words you'd need to beg him to fuck you.
But you didn't need to beg because he wanted the same thing as you.
He held you in place as he sank his cock into the waiting heat of you. The sensation had you cursing and whining and moaning, making all manner of noises that could no doubt be heard on the other side of the house. He moved slowly, almost delicately, trying to save you from any discomfort.
But any discomfort was secondary to the way your body thrummed with need, pushing you to heights you'd never experienced before. Being with an alpha was everything you'd never even realised you'd needed.Â
"That's it, sweetheart," he groaned, bottoming out. "That's a good omega."
It spoke to something deep and primal within you, and all you wanted to be was good for the alpha.
(Your alpha.)
No, not your alpha. Just your alpha... for the night.
He fucked you with slow, deep strokes, letting you feel every inch of him and, when you tried to move, tried to push back against him, he tightened his grip on you hips and held you in place.
It made your hindbrain sing to feel completely at his mercy, his to do with as he pleased â and he certainly seemed pleased to be fucking you. Pleasure became the only thing that mattered and every other thought vanished from your head; there was no more break up, no more Rick and Cindy, and no worries about what you'd do in the morning. There was just Steve, inside you, fucking you to heights you hadn't even known existed before tonight.
After years of betas who only wanted to use you for your libido, you finally knew what it was like to be with someone who knew how to bring you pleasure.
Your eyes rolled back and you gave in to the primal part of you, eagerly whining and moaning as he dragged his cock in and out of your cunt. He easily pushed you to another orgasm, letting out a low groan of his own as your walls fluttered and clenched around him.
When he pulled out, leaving you empty and bereft, you felt like the world was ending. You babbled and protested, every fibre of your being mourning his loss.
The two seconds it took for him to move you onto your back and slide back inside you were two of the longest seconds of your life.
Your legs wrapped around his waist as he started to move again, keeping him close, making sure he didn't pull out again. His hands gripped your hips, strong arms effortlessly pulling you into every thrust of his hips.
"Steve..." you moaned.
He fucked you until you came again, then he followed suit. You whined at the dull sensation of his cock throbbing inside you, wishing you'd begged him not to wear a condom.
When he pulled out and rolled away, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling, a strange laugh bubbling out of you.
"Something funny?" Steve asked, settling beside you.
It took you a moment to find your voice again. "I just never knew being with an alpha would be like... like that..."
(Make him keep us. He needs to keep us. We need that again. We need to belong to him.)
You were too exhausted to even try to rationalise what your hindbrain wanted, you just curled up against Steve and fell asleep.
A/NÂ : So, first and foremost, there is no upload schedule for this fic. I have around 5 chapters planned but I have no idea if it will take two weeks or two months between chapters. If you want to follow this, I can do a tag list, otherwise, I'd suggestion subscribing on Ao3 (hungermakesmonsters).
Second, if you're new here... I don't normally write Steve Rogers (you can probably tell). So, to avoid disappointment, don't feel like you have to follow me if you're expecting more of that (though, never say never, I guess?)
Third, this is going to be a darker story. It's not all cuteness and rainbows, and people will be assholes. That said, it's not going to be dead-dove dark, just some crime and a little bit of violence. And, obviously, there's the sex-positive omegaverse elements. As always, each chapter will have TWs listed.
Finally, thank you so much for checking this out!
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great week!
An unexpected downpour leaves you soaked, annoyed, and in a slight need of a rescue â one James provides without hesitation. Unfortunately, his habit of taking care of you is just as intact as his ability to get on your nerves.
As the tension between you simmers dangerously close to the surface, a run-in with children only makes things more awkward. Especially when they call James uncle. Suddenly, you're forced to confront just how much time has passed and how little of this town still matches the memories you left behind.
For a moment, it almost feels like the old James is backâthe one who cared for you without conditions. But you cross a line accidentally, making whatever fragile progress you've made shatter completely.
âž PAIRING: Mechanic!James Bucky Barnes x Fem!Citygirl!Reader
âž WARNINGS: Reader pov, angst, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, mean reader, no use of y/n, sexual tension but no smut, a little fat shaming but without intention, arguments, !!KIDS!! (but they're kinda nice), dad steve rogers, young father, name calling, therapy session (FINALLY ik)
(image does not depict reader)
âž WORD COUNT: 18.2 K
âž A/N: I'm sorry if you are getting tired of the angst, but I wanted to sort of not end it abruptly. Anger issues do take a while to quiet down, and hopefully it seems fruitful in the end! Also, I left Steve's partner unnamed because I wanted to put up a poll and let you guys decide who I should pair him with!
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The bastard was smiling too.
His face screamed âTold you soâ.
You glowered at him for a second before muttering out, "Yeah, yeah".
The rain was starting to fall quicker now, and it seemed like it was going to get heavier. Water droplets were matting your hair and sticking your clothes to your body, and you started shivering.
"Fuck." you mumbled to yourself, looking down at your shirt that was now sticking to you for a completely different reason. Still, you were thankful it wasn't poor quality and was not exposing your assets.
You felt eyes on you, and you looked up to see James staring at you with a blank expression.
His gaze darted down, where he could see the fabric of your shirt clinging tight, outlining your figure and emphasizing the curve of your breasts.
He abruptly snapped his eyes back up to your face, and you saw his neck and cheeks tinging red.
You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling very aware of everything; your waterlogged clothes, your cold fingers, his gaze on you. The pounding of your heartâŠ
You didn't comment on his gaze, folding your arms across your chest as you started trudging towards the park gate.
âYou sure you wanna go by yourself?â He asked amidst the drizzle.
âIâll be fine.â you said without turning.
âYouâre already wet.â he commented, light footsteps staring behind you. You didnât reply, too focused on avoiding puddles and saving your converse.
"Jesus, could you be any more stubborn?" James' voice came from behind you.
A hand suddenly touched your shoulder, and you jumped, turning around with wide eyes.
"Whaâ"
But you hadn't even got the words out fully when he had scooped you up into his arms. You were pressed flush against his chest, his arms under your thighs, hands under your ass, holding you up.
Your hands automatically went up to grip onto his shoulders, fingers clutching onto his wet shirt.
Your cheeks burned as you stared at him, half flushed from annoyance, and half from something else.
"What the hell are youâ" You started but he cut you off.
"Shut up for once." he grumbled, covering both your heads with his jacket.
You gaped at him, completely dumbstruck and lost for words.
Every part of your body was burning; from humiliation, from the rain, from him. His arms were strong, and you could feel the way his muscles flexed under his wet shirt. The stubble on his chin and jaw was rubbing against your cold cheek, and the only thing that managed to squeeze out of your throat was, âWhat the hell are you doing?"
"Saving your goddamn ass from falling sick." He murmured, and before you could retort, he started walking, carrying you along with him.
Being this close to him was a sensory overload. Every part of your body was hyperaware of him, it felt like he was everywhere.
His feet were clunking on the cement with every step, and there was so much heat rising up from his body.
"This.. I'm sure there is a better way of doing.. this." you murmured, focusing intently on his shoulder.
His arms flexed as he walked, the muscles in his back flexing and tensing next to your face.
You could feel his breath on your neck, his chest pressed against yours, his heartbeat thumping against your sternum.
"This is the fastest way." he grunted.
You swallowed painfully.
"I can't believe you're actually carrying me." you mumbled, finally settling to rest your forehead against his neck.
His hands were strong, clenching your thighs. You could feel the roughness of the pads of his fingers in your flesh, probably from being working on cars all day, you thought.
Your mind suddenly wondered what else those thick fingers would be good at.
You shook that thought out of your head.
Absolutely not⊠this was a one off.
He grunted, and you inhaled.
He smelled musky and masculine, somewhere between grease and fruity. This close to him, you could even smell the soap he used. It suited him.
"You're so heavy." he murmured, his words vibrating through his chest.
You scoffed, lifting your head up.
"I'm notâ Iâm a healthy weight." you protested indignantly.
He scoffed in reply.
"You sure are heavy as hell." he grumbled, tightening his grip on your thighs.
You swallowed at the action, your body thrumming. He was acting gruff and annoyed, but his touch was gentle, as if he was terrified of hurting you.
"You still don't know how to talk to girls." you grumbled, faintly annoyed and a lot of offended
"That's âcause you're no girly girl." he retorted, his hands clenching your legs again unconsciously.
"So you can call me fat?" you retorted, ignoring the way his light stubble was brushing against your cheek
"I didn't say you were fat, I said you're heavy." he grunted again, his breath fanning over the side of your neck.
Your body felt like it was on fire. You were sure he could feel the rise and fall of your chest, and the rapid pounding of your heartbeat.
His arms and fingers were still holding you up, not even a little tired yet, if he was annoyed at carrying you, his hands showed no signs of it.
"Itâs the same thing." you replied dryly.
"It's not." he protested stubbornly, the vibration of his words shooting goosebumps down your spine.
His fingers flexed against your legs again, and you clenched your thighs to avoid shivering.
Goddammit, you could feel every muscle in his chest pressing up against you. It was excruciating.
"Whatever, I don't care what you think about me." you muttered, half a lie.
"How far are we?" you said instead.
"Not far." he grunted.
He seemed to step faster now, practically striding with you in his arms.
He suddenly halted, his body going stiff, and you looked up at him, bewildered.
"Whatâ" you started.
"Sh."
Before you could protest again, his hand rose up to cover your mouth, cutting off the rest of your words. Your eyes widened, and your hands automatically reached up to grip his wet shirt.
You tried saying something indignantly, but all that came out was a muffled mess of sounds.
His hand over your mouth felt deliciously calloused, rough against your lips and cheeks. You couldnât help but notice how close your faces were to each other now, noses almost touching, if it weren't for his hand, that is.
You could see the different flecks of color in his eyes this close, the way his eyelashes fluttered against his cheek. He was staring down at you, his brows slightly pinched.
Then, from somewhere a faint sound of children laughing caught you by surprise. You turned your head under the jacket towards the sound, then back at him.
He sighed deeply, before lowering his hand (much to your displeasure).
âWhere are we? Why are there kids here?â you whispered, brows furrowed as you tried to remember who had kids this young near your neighbourhood.
He slowly shifted to the side on the sidewalk, before replying.
âThatâs Steveâs kids.â
You blinked.
âSteve as in Steve Rogers? The scrawny kid?â you asked in disbelief.
âYeah.â he muttered.
For a few seconds, neither of you moved. He just kept staring at you, a storm of unreadable emotions in his eyes. His hands flexed again, before he slowly lowered you. Your brain was still catching up with the knowledge revealed as you stood shakily.
You turned slightly, lifting the edge of the jacket as if seeing it for yourself would make you believe it. The rain was a little more than a drizzle now.
From afar, you could make out two kids in bright rain coats, one jumping in puddles while the other was trying to sail a paper boat which was far too wet. You glanced at James and back, your mouth opening and closing around words you couldnât think of.
âIsnât he.. wasnât he the same age as us?â you finally managed to say.
James shrugged lightly. âYeah. He had them with his high school sweetheart.â he replied.
You nodded dumbly, still looking at them as if staring would make it make sense.
The sight felt so familiar you felt a tug in your gut, the same plastic-y coats which would do little to keep out the rain, the same puddle splashing, except you used to do it on each other, not caring about your shoes. The same toothy grin that never seemed to leave your faces as you enjoyed the rain.
It felt so far away, but you still remembered some details, almost without meaning to. You remembered when your oddly shaped boat swam limply across the streams, when you almost slipped into a grate trying to save it. You remembered your muddy hands, Bucky's green rain coat which was way too big on him, even the tooth he broke when he fell after you.
As if they sensed your forlorn staring, the one jumping in puddles caught your gaze, her head tilting at what you imagined would be an obscure sight. You shifted away from him immediately, his jacket slipping off your head.
You heard a sigh behind you and a rustle of fabric as he took it off his head as well. It was then you noticed that he had stopped under a tree, which blocked out most of the rain. Before you could comment on it, a high pitched âUncle Bucky!â cut through the air, followed by loud splashy footsteps.
Without much ceremony, they jumped him so hard you thought they would knock him down, but he caught them with practiced ease, a tired smile on his lips.
âHey kiddo.â he said, hugging them back before tickling them. The two of them immediately burst into laughter, wiggling away from his grasp as their half toothy smile grew.
You felt strangely mesmerized by the sight. He talked to them so freely, so normally, that it made you feel out of place. That this version of him wasnât meant for you to see. Your feet shifted slowly away from them, trying to camouflage into the tree.
Before you could think of an escape plan, a warm voice interrupted your thoughts.
âHoly, is it really you?â Steve said with mild surprise. You turned swiftly, trying to school your expression.
âOh, hey Steve.â you said, slightly awkward. You werenât really friends with him, but you knew him like everybody in this town knew everybody.
âHey, itâs good to see you back.â he said, warm eyes like always. âItâs good to see you too.â you replied with a small smile. He had.. filled out in the best way possible, almost in the same way as James, his short golden hair adding to the charisma. For a moment you thought if your entire town had been blessed with good looks while you were gone.
âI see youâve met the little munchkins already.â he chuckled, making you snap out of the slight daze.
You gave him a polite smile. âTheyâre adorable.â came automatically. Steve just smiled proudly, but you could feel Buckyâs gaze at the back of your neck.
The kids were now staring at you, making you feel weirdly self conscious, standing in damp clothes.
Steve introduced them to you with a wide smile, and you waved awkwardly at them, trying not to cringe slightly when he added Aunt to your name.
The shorter oneâs head tilted. âHow come sheâs an aunt? Weâve never seen her.â
Your smile tightened a little. âItâs fine.. You donât have to call me that.. Just my name is fine.â you said.
James snorted at that. âYouâve never seen her because she doesnât live here.â he said to the child.
âYouâre from somewhere else?â the other one quipped with wide eyes.
âIâm not..â it came a little sharply, directed at James, but you softened it. âIâm from here, but I work in the city.â you explained to her.
âWoah.. thatâs so cool. Dad told me the city has the biggest slides!â she said, much to Jamesâ dislike.
âDo you mean the amusement parks? Yeah, theyâre very big.â I replied.
Their eyes sparkled with excitement and you felt like you had to go on. âThereâs uh.. this ride that you sit on and it flips you upside down, and one where you do loop de loop in the air.â you said. They clapped their hands in excitement.
âWill you take us there! I wanna do a loop de loop.â the taller one said, making your eyes widen. You glanced at a smiling Steve and a slightly grumpy James.
âUh.. I donât know.â you murmured with an awkward laugh. They immediately pouted, turning to their dad. âCan we go, dad, please please please?â
He huffed out a small laugh, and before you could point out that you hadnât agreed, Steve saved you the trouble. âWeâll go when the weatherâs clear, okay?â
They immediately brightened up and nodded eagerly. And like the usual attention span of kids, moved on to jumping into puddles.
âSorry, I didnât mean to make you take them.â you murmured to Steve. He waved it off with his hand.
âItâs alright, theyâll forget about it in a few days. Bucky always leads them on about ice cream trucks and they get excited without ever seeing them.â he says amusedly.
James chuckled. âI just like making life tough for you.â he said, clapping Steveâs back. Steve rolled his eyes, nudging him in the ribs.
âSo, have you come to stay this time around?â Steve asked.
âNot really, I just came to visit.â you replied politely.
âOh, thatâs still good. Iâm glad you got to meet my kids atleast.â he said.
âHow old are they, by the way?â you asked.
âFour. Theyâre twins.â Steve replied, beaming. You smiled and nodded, doing the math in your head.
âWow, thatâs.. congratulations.â
âIâm glad I ran into you, but I should probably head home. Good night.â you greeted him with a smile, before turning and leaving.
Behind you, James stood beside Steve, eyeing you for a moment before turning to his friend.
âI canât believe sheâs back.â Steve said with a small smile, making him roll his eyes.
âOf course she was gonna come back at some point.â he muttered.
âYou convinced me that she wasnât, that her life was perfect there.â Steve replied, almost amusedly.
âWhatever, she still pisses me off.â he grunted, and Steve laughed.
âYou two still bicker like kids.â Steve poked his ribs.
James shoved him off playfully before starting towards his house. âSee you at the fest, Stevie.â he gave a short wave before stuffing his hands in his pockets.
The rain had almost completely stopped as you turned the corner on your street. A loud thunder suddenly cracked overhead, making you flinch and grip yourself tighter instinctively.
You didnât even register the sound of muffled steps until the familiar mocking tone of James came from behind you.
"It's just some thunder, donât tell me you still scare like a kid." he huffed amusedly.
You turned just slightly, shooting him a look. âIt took me by surprise.â you replied, trying to ignore how his slightly damp shirt looked far too good. He chuckled, jacket slung on his shoulder as he walked behind you, off by a few steps.
You continued walking. âFollowing me now, are you?â you muttered.
âI live on this street, longer than you have actually.â he pointed out, making you roll your eyes.
âThat doesnât mean you have to walk behind me like some creep.â you replied.
âSo you want me to walk with you? Like weâre friends or something? Oh wait, you said we arenât.â he said, knowing it would push your buttons.
When you didnât reply, he rolled his eyes. His steps faltered for a second when he carefully looked over you.
"You're shivering." he said, like he hadnât thought about that.
"It's kinda hard not to when you're soaking." you grumbled, hands still around yourself.
He sighed, before muttering something that sounded like âwhy lordâ, before catching up to you in a few strides. He didnât stop you, just wrung out his leather jacket once and draped it over you.
You wanted to argue, but the warmth of it made you sigh softly. The fabric smelled faintly like motor oil and grease.
The streetlights flickered over the two of you as you walked.
âThanks.â you muttered. âI didnât know you did chivalry.â
He rolled his eyes. "Maybe I do. Got a problem with that?"
His voice was laced with slight annoyance, but there was something else underneath it too - a hint of defensiveness.
âI guess I donât. Youâre still very facetious though.â you said, glancing at him.
He stopped walking abruptly, his boots squelching in a puddle.
âFacetious?â his brows pinched, almost adorably, you thought. âYou callinâ me names, after I carried your stubborn ass through the rain?â he huffed.
"I didn't ask to be carried, you did that." you pointed out.
James' face twisted a little, but his tone was still even.
"You were too slow. Staying in that goddamn rain for so long would get you sick, of course I was gonna carry you." he said like it made perfect sense, his gaze boring into you.
"But no, you have to argue with me, don't you? Even when I'm just trying to keep your ass safe."
"I don't need to be kept safe, I'm not a child." you said, stopping in front of your gate.
âYou sure do act like one.â he muttered under his breath, continuing on his way to his house next door.
âI heard that.â you said, eyeing his back. He half turned, then rolled his eyes and continued walking.
âActing like a child is still better than acting like a lost puppy who has no one else to follow.â you reported, crossing your arms.
James stopped dead in his tracks.
His face went completely blank as he turned.
For a second, he just stared at you â really stared â like he was seeing you for the first time. Like your words had physically punched him.
Then something flickered behind his eyes. Hurt? Betrayal? Disbelief?
He didn't say anything yet.
Your brain screamed at you for a moment, alarms blaring.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was quiet. Not angry anymore â just⊠tired.
"Okay."
One word. Flat and empty.
Then he turned on his heel to walk away without another glance at you.
You blinked, staring at his retreating back.
His shoulders were tense, posture stiff as he pushed open his gate.
Your brain scrambled for words, something, anything to say.
âWait, your.. your jacket.â you called out.
âDonât need it.â James said without looking your way, not slowing down.
His voice was cold now - detached. Like he'd flipped a switch and shut everything off.
You watched him disappear into the house, too stunned to move, your heart twisting violently in your chest.
You should run after him. Call out to him, get him to stop, maybe even apologizeâ
But you couldn't. The words got stuck in your throat, and your legs felt like lead weights.
The look on his face when you'd called him a lost puppy, like you'd⊠hurt him, finally crossed the line. It was stuck in your mind, replaying over and over again.
Eventually you went inside and dried off. But you couldn't stop thinking about him.
Outside, the skies had cleared again, leaving the air cool. You paced in your room, feeling a mix of guilt and sorrow.
You flopped on your bed, looking at the ceiling.
He was right, he had helped you even though you were awful to him.
You closed your eyes, trying to shut off your brain. But all that did was bring up every time you had been rude to him.
âHe started it,â you said out loud. âHe was rude to me first.â you tried to reason with yourself, turning on your side.
But for what? He was just upset that you left.
The hours ticked by and sleep refused to come as you argued with your brain.
Whenever you closed your eyes, images of James' face kept flashing in your mind â angry, hurt, cold, annoyed. The memory of his expression when you'd called him a lost puppy was seared into your brain.
Your stomach twisted every time you recalled all that you'd said. You hadn't even tried to stop him when he walked awayâŠ
You sat up on your bed with an annoyed huff, cursing at your mind. You knew it wouldnât calm down until you talked it out. So you picked up your phone and dialled your therapist/friend.
âHey Sam.. Iâm sorry for bothering you this late. Do you have a minute?â you said quietly.
On the other end, you heard rustling of sheets and a small grunt. âIs everything okay?â he asked.
âNo.. not exactly just..â you sighed, closing your eyes. âComing here was more taxing than I thought.â
âIs it.. because of your parents?â he asked gently, knowing it wasnât really an open topic for you.
âPartially.. yeah. But itâs not just him, I.. ran into my childhood friend here, and things arenât going great with him. I donât really feel like myself, Iâm just angry all the time.. and he hasnât even done that many things wrong, he was just upset that I left.â you said, voice growing smaller with each sentence.
Sam listened patiently before asking, âYou think youâve wronged him by leaving?â
âA little, I guess. I know I left for myself, but I didnât mean to hurt him.â As you said that, you realized how hypocritical it sounded. You ended up retelling Sam everything that went down, up until him leaving.
Sam sighed softly. âYour friendship sounds complicated.â he said, his tone light enough to make you feel better.
âI donât even know if itâs that anymore..â you huffed an almost laugh.
âWhatever it is, itâs hurting you both from what it seems. Now you have a choice, you either pull back completely, act like you dont want to see him ever again.â he said carefully.
âOr, you swallow your pride, just for some time, and try to apologize. And I guess you can tell which one Iâd suggest you to do.â he said. You knew he would never force you to make a decision.
âShouldnât he apologize too? Who knows what else heâs been talking about me with my dad.â you said.
Sam called your name carefully. âI agree that was a shitty thing to do, but I can only make you understand your actions, not him. Maybe if you ask him politely heâll understand it was shitty.â
You sighed, rolling on your side. âYou donât know him, he wonât do that.â
âExactly, I donât, but you do. And I know you can be the bigger person here, yeah?â he said.
âYeah.â you murmured quietly.
âGood. Now Iâm charging double for this session because you interrupted my REM sleep.â he said jokingly, making your lips quirk.
âLike your greedy ass needs more money.â you said affectionately.
He made an indignant sound .âI, at the very least, deserve a drink for sorting out your boy problems.â he said, and you could hear him smirking.
âFine, Iâll treat you when I get back, happy Mr. Greedy?â you teased. âVery.â he replied with a laugh.
âAlright, well get your âREM sleepâ then.â you said.
âGood night, grumpy.â he said, yawning. âSend me a pic of your good deeds.â
If you like what I do and want to support my writing, please consider buying me a Ko-Fi (common for my 3 blogs by the way)
MCU:
Loki x Sif (Post Thor movie/Marvel) :
Two of a kind: chap. 1 and on AO3
It has to be elves...
Bucky Barnes:
Her Dark Secret: Bucky x reader - fluff
Spring Cleaning Time : Tower shenanigan, Bucky x reader - smut- Sitcom humour
Misunderstanding under the Christmas tree: Bucky x reader - light angst - fluff.
And yet: Bucky x reader - ANGSTY - hurt/comfort
wip - Broken is the new normal: Meet the OC.
Drabble/stories outlines/weird ideas.
FFXVI/FF16 :
Between a song and a book (Joshua x Reader)
A snowball fight (Joshua x Reader)
Autumn crocus in the meadows... (Joshua x Reader)
LOTR :
A momentous Wedding : a collection of short stories, drabbles, prompt and so on. Independant chapters - more or less centered around Eowyn and Faramir's wedding (WIP - more chapters to come).
The white swan of Dol Amroth : a take on the romance between Eomer and Lothiriel. Short stories, multi-chapters and so on. Independant chapters (WIP - more chapters to come).
In dark time we sing : created for a fandom event. Who keeps the lore and knowledge alive in Rohan? (and if you're interested : faceclaim)
The end of Gimli son of Gloin : this is the story of what became of Gimli after the end of the war.
A song for the stars: This is the celebration of the end of the year. You are waiting for a very special someone, a particular March-Warden. Will he join you under the stars?
Scribble & Drabbles 2025 : Twinkle of the Stars, A Thank you gift, the language of the Green
Absurd headcanon : LOTR and hobbit characters and cats
The 355
Beg for it (smut, Nick x Reader), AO3
LOTR/AU Hallmark movie :
Crazy decorator Eomer meets surly electrician Gimli - Collab with @lucifers-legions: inspired by various discussion on tumblr, by Hallmark movies and many other things "Â helping a Scrooge rediscover his Christmas spirit, and revealing the true meaning of Christmas to those who may have lost sight of it along the way".
Faramir and Eowyn Christmas Story - Hallmark style : a very short one shot inspired by a profile pics I did.
Exodus Become the Traveler/Sci-Fi :
Chronicles of a Traveler Dynasty : A series of stories set in the Exodus universe (by Archetype Ent.). We follow the Travelers and their crew, their adventures and challenges as they explore the universe in search of Remnant technology.
Others
Books review (In case you're curious)
Christmas pfp Middle Earth edition
For my original works, go to @emmanuellececchi
I also have a blog for the Exodus Game/SciFi : @emmathescifigal
"You've been friends with Bucky ever since you met. Or at least that's how it seems to everyone. But what will happen if you almost lose him? How will he react when he learns the truth?"
Bucky x reader - Thunderbolts era - On AO3
Angsty angst - hurt/comfort
Thanks a LOT to @knowledgeableknitter and @dilettantefeminist for their in beta reading this story.
special tag to my fellow angst lover : @quantumbarnes and @imnotjustreadingg-volume-two
Itâs late in the afternoon and the sky is beautiful, with clouds thin and white as lace. The view of New York city from the Watchtower is breathtaking. Something out of a dream. The dream of a little girl who imagined that, one day, the love of her life would ask her to marry him. And the man is here and the girl as well. But Bucky is not asking for your hand.
âShe said yes.â
Three simple words. But not the ones you wanted. For all the joy theyâre bearing, theyâre punching holes into the very fabric of your soul. And yet, you smile bright as the sun, your eyes shining. He will never know. You hug him tightly, patting him on the back. And heâs laughing, hugging you back, his eyes lit with happiness.
âOh, Bucky, Iâm so happy for you!â And thatâs the worst. Because every word that makes your heart bleed is true. You want nothing more than his happiness because you love him so much. Even if his happiness is not with you.
You donât remember how you came to be his best friend. Shared moments of quiet at first. Sharing interests, a book, a coffee. Sharing silence when the world was too loud for him. Lending him your calm, his head in your lap when everything was too hard to bear in his mind. Walks late at night to watch the stars. Telling each other what you think, arguing âtill the door slams, reconciling in front of a diner. And yet, you were always just friends.
You remember when he brought her. Shy and blushing, holding onto him as if he was her lifeline. And he had come right for you, and she had said, in her soft voice, how much Bucky had spoken about you. You had been surprised, but you had kept your smile. Because he wanted you to meet her. She was a fragile, little, thing, with a soft smile and wide eyes, stylish like a doll. As far from you as could be, with your loud laugh and functional clothes. She was delicate like a sweet flower where you were strong like a young tree. And so different from Bucky as well. And maybe this was why he chose her and not you.
And so you kept smiling, because Bucky was smiling to her, holding her like a precious thing. The most precious of all.
âI trust you. Youâre my best friend. You donât know what it means that you accepted her.â
Can a heart break multiple times? Yours did, again and again. But you keep being kind to her. Slapping John in the head when he made some inappropriate jokes, being there for her when Bucky was away on a mission. She even calls you Big Sister. You hate it. Because you envy her. And yet, youâre still here. But not for her. For Bucky, always for him.
And then, one day, Bucky requested your help for something very important. And your heart cracked again, for you knew what it was. And when he brought you to this jeweler, your heart faltered. And yet, you went with him, knowing that you would help him choose. Because he loved her. And she made him happy.
And now, youâre here, a glass in your hand, smile plastered on your face, celebrating with everyone in the team. Even Mel and Valentina are here, and Valentina even paid for the champagne. Bucky is smiling, eyes twinkling with joy. The light in him is beautiful to see, even if your heart is like ashes under this sun. And yet, you keep your smile for him and you keep laughing at his jokes. Then, he comes close to you, putting his arm on your shoulder. You smile up to him, the weight of his arm another shard in your heart.
âI owe you so much.â You arch an eyebrow, surprised, âyouâve taught me how to love, how to be myself again.â And there is so much emotion in his eyes. He chuckles softly, âand she loves the ring.â
The corner of your lips tremble but you hide it behind your drink. âDonât mention it.â Because it hurts too much to hear him say this. Because it brings questions that itâs too late to answer. But he will not know.
He smiles softly and leans to kiss you, oh so gently, on the cheek, the stubble rough against your skin. He blushes slightly and suddenly hugs you fiercely. You hug him back, because you canât stop it. He is so happy and he wants to share it with you. You canât ruin this for him. Not after all he went through. And yet, itâs killing you inside.
âShe is organizing everything! Every little detail.â He smiles again, eyes lost for a moment as he looks at you, âSoon Iâll be able to give the invitation. Youâll come, right?â For a moment, his eyes are searching yours. But you keep the pain hidden and you just chuckle softly.
âAs if I could ever miss the wedding of my best-friend.â And yet, your mind treacherously changed it to the man I love.
~~~
The mission had devolved into disaster so quickly it should have been comical. But you are in no place to laugh. Not when your voice is choked by your tears, not when your heartbeat is a drum without rhythm, not when youâre so terrified at the idea of losing Bucky.
Because now this man, the self proclaimed Nightmare King, is here, holding Buckyâs life in his hands. Each and every one of the other people on the mission is trapped in their own realm of debilitating fear and terrors.
And Bucky, your Bucky, is not immune. Even though the Nightmare King is right beside him, smirking as he is preparing to end the life of the man you love, Buckyâs eyes are staring in nothingness. Ugly sobs are wracking him, his body shaking. You can hear him repeat, over and over again, âNo. No. No. No.â He is barely breathing, as if each word is stealing his life away, as if his heart has been ripped away.
You have no strength left to try to imagine what heâs seeing. Every muscle in your body is shaking so hard you barely can hold your own weapons. But you cannot let Bucky die. So you fight, inch by inch, crawling your way towards the two men. Tears of terror running along your cheeks, your only thought: I cannot lose him.
Yes. He loves another but he is alive and happy. And you can still see him and the twinkle in his eyes when he sees you. Losing him to another still means being able to watch him smile, to feel the warmth of his hugs. Even if it hurts. You welcome this pain, as long as Bucky is happy. But if he dies? Then the world would be a cold and empty space, where the sun would no longer warm your soul. And this man is trying to snuff out Buckyâs light.
You cannot let it happen. So now, shivering and sickly, youâre terrified and sobbing abjectly. And when the Nightmare King sees you, crawling towards him, weapons barely drawn, his smirk slowly disappears, replaced by a mask of incredulity.
âNo. NO! Thatâs impossible! You should be prone, lost in your Nightmare!!â
âT-This⊠This i-is m-my n-nightmareâŠ.â You hiccup, finally standing on wobbly legs, the rage fueling your limbs, fighting off the effect of the fear. You straighten, staring him down. âB-but I promised myself to never let it happen.â And you charge.
When thinking back, you knew you were lucky. The so-called Nightmare King was probably taken by surprise. Or maybe he was so sure of his powers, he didnât prepare a back up plan⊠Or simply, once his concentration had wavered, his powers were no longer affecting the others. Youâll never know. Because once you start fighting him, he does not stay long. He pushes you away, taking advantage of your weakened states and turns on his heels, fleeing.
You stumble back, swearing under your breath. At the same time Bucky snaps out of his stupor, his eyes suddenly on you, wide, confused, questioning. Then all the others, one by one, come back to reality, shocked but ready to fight. And fight they did, pursuing the man through his stronghold.
Bucky checks on you but you shake your head, âIâm good. Go get him. GO!â he nods and, with one last glance at you, he sets off after the guy. You are too shaken by your experience, too ashamed of how you felt. So you stay behind. And when the others pass you, you nod and show the other people trapped around you. Youâll stay behind to help them evacuate. That will be your excuse. Because you canât be at Buckyâs side right now.
~~~
Morning in the Watchtower. You hear them as you finish packing. They talk in low whispers, loud exclamations quickly snuffed. They let you sleep, you had seemed so worn out after this mission. You hadnât argued and went straight to your room, already knowing what you would do in the morning.
But you know, you hear them, wondering how you resisted, what power you had been hiding. Because you had none, until now. And they are excited to know more. And you hear his voice, Bucky, low, tense, asking them to calm down. You wonder if he is curious as well, you assume as much. You know him too well.
The silence falls like a slab of cement as they see you passing with a suitcase. You had hoped to leave discreetly, even though you knew it was futile and maybe even unfair. None of them did anything wrong. Youâre the only one to blame. Theyâre all looking at you, exchanging quick glances between each other, confused. And Bucky, face pale, eyes searching, stands slowly. And you know you should leave now, before itâs too late. But you canât.
And so you wait for him as he walks briskly towards you.
âHey, whatâs up?â
His voice is soft, a bit shaky. You hadnât spoken since the day before. You can still see in your mind the moment you thought he would die. You look down. You canât face him. The pain is too deep, the fear still there. The nightmare cracked open the walls you didnât know you built around your heart. And now you cannot hide anymore how you feel.
âI have to go.â To your surprise, your voice is calm, if quiet.
âNo. Wait. Wait a minute.â His tone. There is something akin to panic. You hate yourself. He has done nothing.
âBuckyâŠâ just saying his name is agony. You shake your head, try to smile but it falters, quivering at the corner. You turn, itâs time to leave but his hand finds your arm. There is no strength in his grip but there is warmth. And it burns through your clothes. And yet, you still.
âSpeak to me.â His voice wavers, âPlease?â and you hate yourself because you know youâre going to hurt him.
âI have to go, Bucky. Please, let me go.â And you finally look at him, eyes pleading. And in his eyes, oh so blue, you see it, the hurt, the confusion. And itâs bittersweet. Because you know he cares. But not in the way you need.
âBut you saved us!â âYeah! Thatâs a cool power!â âWe need you!â âWhoâs going to make the coffee now?â They are all speaking over each other, too surprised, too confused by your desire to leave them. For a moment, you feel dizzy, torn apart. And Bucky. He is watching you, trying to piece this together.
âTell me. You are my friend.â Itâs barely a whisper. Now, he is the one pleading with you. And you regret doing this, itâs not his fault. And he deserves the truth. Even if it destroys whatâs left of your friendship. And even though you know itâll hurt him. Because Bucky is a good man. And yet, youâll tell him.
âThere is no⊠I have no power, Bucky. I was terrified. But not by an illusion.â You stop, the scene still so vivid in your mind, âI was living my worst nightmare.â Your voice wavers, eyes wet. You add, soft enough that heâs the only one hearing, âSeeing the man I love almost be killed.â Your voice dies on the last words. And your eyes search his, hoping he will understand. Praying you wonât have to say it out loud, in the end.
But he frowns, confused and, maybe, somewhat betrayed. And the look on his face twists a knife in your heart. His hand slides, lifeless, from your arm. You thought you couldnât be hurt anymore. And yet, your heart finds another way to break.
So you say it, finally.
âYou, Bucky.â You donât say that it has always been him. You donât need to add another layer of guilt as you see it, slowly rising, in the way his jaw ticks, the way his eyes widened. And you want to take the pain away, to swallow it in yours. You can take it. You will always take it from him.
You go on, âIâm sorry.â And the words are like jagged glass into an open wound and they twist slowly. And you have to close your eyes for a moment, to not break right there. And yet you keep speaking, as if now that your heart is broken like an eggshell, everything you held close canât help but come pouring out.
âI love you Bucky,â and you see him flinch. Your heart falters, and youâre surprised itâs still beating, it hurts so much. And yet you go on, âI love you so much that I want to see you happy, because you deserve to be happy, to have the best of what life can offer. You deserve everything and moreâŠâ your words die in your throat at the sight of his face, stricken and pale. You know you have to leave, now, because you canât keep hurting him. And so you take his cold hands in yours, in this last moment where youâre close to him. Because if you can, you will still save him.
âWould you do something for me?â
And even after everything you told him, he doesnât hesitate before answering, âAnything.â And it breaks your heart, as if there were still splinters left to shatter.
âGrab life by the throat and be happy. The happiest you can be. Have the best life ever! Marry, have kids and grand-kids. Get the life of your dreams and more. Take it. You deserve all of it, never doubt that.â He says nothing, his eyes wide, never leaving your face. And yet you find the strength to smile again. âDo that for me, okay?â
You keep smiling as you wave to the others, looking at you in stunned silence. And you walk away, holding the pieces of your soul close to you. You cannot break now, you have to leave, to go away, to stay strong so that Bucky will not be hurt even more.
And the city of New York passes in front of you as your cab drives you away from the Watchtower, from your life there, from your friends, from Bucky. And then there is the bustle of the airport and you still keep your peace, your hands tight against your chest, hoping the pain cannot be seen. And once youâre nestled in your seat in the plane, rolled into a ball against the airplane window, youâre too afraid to let it bleed and so you tighten around yourself, hoping youâll hold.
And then, you see through this new cabâs window, the landscape rolls, towards your home, and your mind is blissfully empty. Your cell is in your hand before you can think, ready to send a message, like you did so many times before, to tell him you arrived safely. You freeze, fingers hovering. You canât. Not anymore.
And then you arrive, and you pay and everything is mechanical and slow, as if your life has been caught in some time slowing machine. And you turn, and your childhood house is waiting, warm light pooling on the darkening ground as the sun sets behind the hills. It smells of hay and horses and the sounds of the cab leaving you here is like a final goodbye.
You feel the snap behind your ribs the moment your mother appears on the stairs. And when she calls your name, startled, surprised, you know youâre going to shatter. And thenâŠ
Your father is here, hugging you so fiercely that, for an instant, the agony in your body is still. And you donât remember how you ended up in his arms. And the warmth around you finally seeps through your cold mind. And you shatter.
The sobs are ugly, rough, wracking your whole body, as if being punched. They donât understand, you didnât tell them anything. And yet, they donât ask questions, they just hold you through it all, until you fall asleep on the couch, exhausted, drained by your tears.
When you wake up in the morning, the pain is still there. Worst of all, it is everywhere. And your mind reels in horror at what you did. For youâre sure Bucky is wounded. You betrayed his trust, and left before his wedding. And in the moment, all you can see are the blue of his eyes when you left, like a sea of despair. You should never have spoken.
And so you ask your parents for work, any work. To bury the guilt and shame and pain under sweat and dirt. And it works for the day. And when you swing the ax and the wood splinters, you do not think. And when you work in the field, your back is stiff under the sun, your mind is empty as the cloudless sky. And yet, when the sun sets and the long shadows of the night are pouring through the cracks of life, the emptiness in your chest is howling and you do not know how to close it.
And so you sit with your parents in front of the old TV. And your mother has made your favorite meal, and you feel as if the child in you is slowly taking your hand, to bring you back to a place where the hurt is allowed to be less loud. And your father brings chocolate bars and drinks. And while the child never drinks, you recognize those moments from your childhood. And you spend the evening, and then the night, hiding behind the child you were. And you finally fall asleep in your motherâs arms.
And each morning, you begin anew, the same routine. And slowly the pain becomes a companion, not jagged teeth ripping everything inside you. It is almost comfortable. You even find the strength to explain to your mother and father. And they do not judge you. They do not offer empty words of comfort or promises of healing. Only the solid shoulder of your father, the warmth of your motherâs hug.
And so you go on with life because this is how it is. And yet, the guilt is still there, tainted by the yearning. For you miss Bucky but itâs heavy, itâs a weight. Like an addiction. You know this love hurts you and yet, you miss him. And yet sometimes you feel free, for now there is nothing left to hide. The cut is clean, there is no turning back. But sometimes, it feels as though you are missing a limb.
The ghost presence of him is in everything you see, everything you eat, everything you read. For you told him you would come here together. You told him you would show him your life here. The slow mornings with the smell of your momâs waffles. The days of work, fueled by the warmth of the sun and the laugh of your father. The soft evenings, where the sky is so clear, the stars seem within reach. But he is not here to share with you the beauty of the light, the scent of the smoke, the sound of the rain. Bucky is far away⊠and yet, you feel him everywhere you are, in everything you do.
As time passes, bitterness begins gnawing at the pain. The wedding should be soon. While you refuse to watch the calendar, you know it in your bones. And yet, thereâs been no invite. And the absence is burrowing in your soul. Did Bucky choose to not invite you? Would it be too much for him to see you again? Or maybe he is trying to protect you? And not knowing is the worst, because your mind is aflame with anger that he made the choice for you.
The thing is, even if you donât know what your choice would have been, you would have preferred being able to decide yourself. But the calendar tells the story. And now, it is over. And it hurts, a throbbing pain, ever present.
Until one day, you are out, cutting wood. The ax is flying, an extension of your arms, each strike, rippling through your muscle, feels like life trying to worm its way back into your heart. You stop, breathing hard. The landscape is beautiful around you. The sun is young, the air still fresh from the morning. Birds are chirping and the smell of the wet earth is like an invitation for a lazy walk. And yet, your chest is tight, as if your memories of him are trying to crush you.
Then anger comes, you feel the pressure, behind your ribs, your eyes, in your throat. Until you scream. You scream for the unfairness of it all, for the path never taken, for the guilt youâre still bearing, for the love that refuses to die, for the fact you still want to live and be happy. You scream until youâre raw, until it hurts and slowly you sink on the ground, kneeling under the pain, and the regret. And yet, it feels lighter.
You can breathe now.
And the days that come after are a little bit sweeter. And it is as if your smile has found its way back, small and hesitant, but here nonetheless.
And one day, you decide to go for a long ride. You told your mother and father. You spent the day out, rediscovering a world for yourself, without Bucky. It is still painful, but there is space for peace now, finally.
~~~
Later, when you come back, you feel at ease with yourself for the first time in a while. You dismount, relaxed and you whisper soft words to your mare as you bring her close to the front porch.
This is why the sight of the bike jars you, as if you have been struck by lightning. For a moment, youâre torn. A sudden burst of joy, warm and heady like a strong liquor, and an icy blade ripping through your soul and heart, both at the same time.
What is he doing here? And then comes the realization that he may have come with his wife. You freeze, heart in your throat. You cannot face them. Not yet. Not now that youâve only just learned to breathe again.
So you slowly back away, as if facing an enemy. But your body is fighting itself. Youâre shivering as a part of you pleads for Bucky to come out so that you can see him one last time. But the other part is screaming at you to flee the pain. With an effort, youâre finally able to turn, walking feebly back to your horse.
Breathing hard, you lean against her neck, the warmth of her body is like a wall against the pain of your heart.
Footsteps. You freeze, your mind blank, your heart beating like a bird trapped in a cage, blood rushing in your ears. And yet, when he calls softly for you, you hear it.
You close your eyes, holding onto the saddle as your legs weaken under you. You stay hidden behind your mare, grateful for her strength when youâve none left, unable to move now.
You hear Buckyâs boots on the dirt. Heâs moving slowly towards you. You should go away, leave but you canât, rooted on the spot by the sheer need to see him. It is visceral, you can feel a physical pull towards him even though you canât see him.
You see gloved fingers appear over the neck of the horse, carding through her mane. Your mare is patient. She does not move, her ears picking towards the new presence, mildly curious. Your eyes, on the other hand, are glued to those fingers, slowly sliding out of view while you hear Buckyâs footsteps as he moves around your horse. Youâre frozen in place, a hand still on the saddle, as he finally stands in front of you.
To see him is like a cold shower. Your heart splits in two. And yet, a part of you feels complete again. There is no smile on his face but thereâs no anger either. His eyes are searching yours for a long, silent, moment. You drink in his presence, his scent, burning his image into your mind for he will disappear again, and you will stay behind bereft, empty once again.
He takes another step, stops, then turns to look at the horse beside you, patting her neck.
âShe looks like a good mare.â
Your mind is blank. Your body is in a state of panic, ready to bolt and still unable to move, like a rabbit in the headlights of a car.
Then his eyes come back to you.
âYou never told me.â His voice is soft and yet you feel something like pain underlying those simple words. You try to find something, anything to say. But for all the words flailing in your head, thereâs only one coming out.
âNo.â
His eyes never leave you. You are not sure what to read in them but you see shadows below them, as if sleep has escaped him for a long time. Your heart twists. You had never wanted to hurt him. A tear rolls down your cheek and youâre surprised you still have some left in you. You wipe it quickly but you glimpse the flicker of anguish in his eyes. He has seen it. And the guilt twists deeper in your heart.
But then, anger rears its head, like a snake awakened by your mixed feelings. You clench your fist. He sees it and his lips curve slightly into a half-smile. It fans your anger. You want to yell, to scream at him, to shake him and erase this smile. You want to show him the bleeding gap in your chest. Itâs so strong youâre panting. No. Bucky didnât know. Heâs innocent.
The thoughts are like ice sliding along your spine. You lowered your eyes, slowly, tired now, the last dredge of anger draining everything.
âYou let me choose someone else.â
His voice is barely a whisper. And youâre not sure you heard him correctly. You look up and realize he has closed the gap between you. His hand has slid slowly along your mareâs neck, a mere inch from your fingers. You notice that, if you stretch your hand, you could touch his, if you wanted.
But then the words echo in your mind. They slowly crystallize in your heart, twisting like a butterfly in a web. The silence is too much and not enough all at once.
âAnd yet, here I am.â His voice, low, trembling slightly as his eyes bore into you. And you shake your head. When you speak, trying to bring normalcy in this moment, your voice is small in your ears.
âI donât understand.â
âYou robbed me of my choice.â
âI-what?â you blink, confused for an instant. Until something snaps in you. Maybe itâs back into place, maybe itâs finally breaking but the anger comes back, stronger this time, bitter as bile. And your voice slices the air.
 âI did nothing. I was just your friend. You chose not to be with me first.â
Each word is venomous. You thought you had healed, but seeing him now is like reopening the wound, digging in it. You square your shoulders, ready for a fight. But Buckyâs face has gone pale as his shoulders sag. Yet, he does not avoid your eyes. To your surprise, he nods.
âYouâre right.â
But those words do nothing. Theyâre bland and empty. They mean nothing. You snap.
âWhy are you here?â
This is the right question. You need to know, to understand. And much more than that. You need to heal. You have the right to be free of this pain.
âI miss youâŠâ the admission unsettles you. He says it in a small, almost child-like voice. You frown, shake your head.
âYou are⊠you were my friendâŠâ when he corrects himself, he winces, as if pained physically. âYou were my safe place. My perfect piece of the puzzle.â
Is this an accusation you hear in his voice? You clench your teeth, seething. And then, you spit it, years of jealousy in a few words.
âYou chose her.â
He closes his eyes, lowers his head. Strangely, you donât feel better. Seeing him defeated in front of you does not bring you any relief. Finally, you ask again, gentler this time.
âWhy are you here?â and not on your honeymoon. Those words you keep. They are still too painful, even to think.
Bucky opens his mouth then closes it, he looks at the sky as if trying to find the right words among the stars. He takes a deep breath and, with his eyes on you again, he whispers.
âI need you.â
You stay rooted on the spot, your eyes wide. Your heart is thudding loudly against your ribs, almost painful. You want to deny, to punch him, to slap him⊠He must see the fury in your eyes because he closes his hand on yours. His touch both soothes and hurts you. You yank away your hand while your mare snorts, nervous.
Bucky takes a step back but heâs still watching you.
âYou cannot say that. Not afterâŠâ you gesture vaguely, away from your home⊠There are so many things. He does not have the right.
âI know.â He takes a breath and, releasing it slowly, he says, âI realize now I was a coward. I was so terrified. I said nothing.â
No. It wasnât possible.
âWhat does that mean?â
âIt was easier. You were there. Always at my side. You stayed, whatever I was putting you through. I thought⊠that it was better to say nothing than telling you how I felt and then⊠losing you.â
You do not react. You feel empty, your mind buzzing strangely. Bucky frowns. He wants to touch you but you hold your hand up. And he stops there, looking desperate, maybe waiting for you to say something. But you cannot speak. Not yet.
âAll those years?â
He nods, his eyes are shining now but you push again. You need to know.
âWhat about the wedding?â
Bucky winces again and looks away. You feel cold all over but then he whispers in a huff.
âCanceled.â
You stay there mouth agape, the word impossible to understand.
âDo you know what the Nightmare King showed me?â
You blink and close your mouth with a snap. Youâre confused again by this change of conversation, you shake your head. You donât know. But your heart is beating so quickly, as if it knows something you keep denying.
âYou. Leaving me.â
The ground must have opened under your feet because you feel yourself slide. You donât hear him moving, you donât see anything. But suddenly, youâre on the ground, his cold vibranium arm on your back, holding you upright, while his thumb gently rubs circles on your hand. You try to breathe. Heâs too close, youâre too hot. Bucky says nothing, his eyes on you, waiting.
You can smell him. You can feel his warmth. You want to crawl under his skin, you want to become one with him. It has been so long. âBuckyâŠâ you donât know what to say. Even saying his name is painful and yet, it feels good.
âI should have spoken sooner. I should haveâŠâ his whispers falters, his mouth in your hair and you close your eyes, letting the words slowly sink in. For the moment, you do not answer. You stay there, immobile, hearing his heart thumping strongly, a mirror of yours.
Then you feel it. Bucky is shaking. And you slowly come to realize what he must have done. As if reading your thoughts, he adds voice breaking,
âI hurt you. I hurt her. I hurt everyone. Itâs what I always do. I wanted to spare you. I always wantedâŠâ his voice falters then he whispers âBut in trying to spare you, I only made your pain worse.â
You say nothing. You donât need to add to his anguish. Besides youâre exhausted beyond what you thought possible. Then you realize your parents must wonder what is going on. They are probably waiting in the house, unwilling to bother you. You move.
Buckyâs reflex is to tighten his hold but then, as if realizing, he releases you slowly, as if regretting.
âHelp me stand.â
He nods and you cling to him as you both straighten up. Your mare is there, looking at both of you with her dark and limpid eyes. You laugh. And Bucky looks at you, a bit surprised.
âShe must think weâre crazy.â He turns to look at the horse and he exhales a tired laugh. But then, he turns to you, his eyes serious and sad.
âCan you ever forgive me?â
You look at him. His eyes are red rimmed, his hair a mess, although it could be from the ride on his bike. And because you know him, you know he must hate himself right now. Because you can imagine her now, lonely, left behind. You know how it feels. You want to forgive him unconditionally, and yet this is not what you say.
âItâll take time. Iâll need to relearn trust.â
He swallows thickly, you see his throat bobs. He looks away, his flesh hand coming quickly as if erasing something from his face. And you remember who he is. What he has gone through. Of course, itâs not an excuse. But it is a reason.
You close the gap between you, putting both your hands on his chest.
âBut I would like to hear you say it.â
Gingerly, Bucky puts his hands on your shoulders, his eyes are roaming on your face, you wonder if he sees the tears, the pain. Probably. And yet, you see the corner of his lips slowly tug upward, a faint smile. Slowly, he leans towards you.
Your heart beats so strongly, the blood rushes in your ears. Your knees are wobbly under you and your fingers cling to his shirt. And when his lips finally touch yours.
There is a moment when the whole world ceases to exist. Only the warmth of his mouth, of his hands against you, is real.
You open your eyes, not realizing you had closed them. And Bucky looks at you, as if you were the most precious thing in the whole universe.
âI love you.â Those three words. You waited so long, you lost hope, you left and tore yourself apart, thinking you would never hear them. And yet, here you are. In his arms.
âI love you too.â
You hear him take a deep, shaky breath. As if you finally allowed him to breathe again. But heâs not the only one. You feel whole. But not as before. There are wounds to heal, and corners to smooth. Both of you will need to rebuild.
And yet, youâre hopeful now.
Later, you leave on the back of his bike for the road trip back to the Tower. Your parents seemed happy for the both of you. Even though your father gave Bucky the look. You almost choked on your laugh while Bucky only ducked his head and promised he would take care of you.
Youâre holding tight on to him, your arms around his body. Youâre slotted against him, savoring the closeness, the warmth. His hand finds your thigh from time to time, as if checking you are real and here with him. In front of you the sun is slowly setting, painting the landscape in red, purple and blue.
You know there will be lows and highs. That the road ahead of you will be difficult. And yet, you are ready to take on this challenge. With him, together.
Warnings: Enemies to lovers (but this is a blurb so just enemies lmao), tabloid gossip, misogyny, sick burns!! (obviusly no hate to any music genre)
Playlist Prompt: Donât Stop Believing - Journey / âA smell of wine and cheap perfumeâ (I swapped it)
Summary: You can never trust gossip or men...
WC: 446
A/N: Day 8 of June Jukebox Scribbles by @societynsoelsscribbles, dividers by @strangergraphics
Prev Track | Main Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Next Track
Princess and the Poppers the pop band took hold of every tween's heart versus The New Avengerz, the industrial rock band taking over the masses by storm, you started your music careers at the same time and from day one the media pitted you against each other.
Eventually everyone was either a princess or an avenger, the internet went crazy every time you shared the same stage, finding looks of hatred where there wasn't any. Your agent said it was normal, good publicity even, so you went along with it
But even with fake celebrity gossip, you never get off scot-free, a nasty rumor started popping in, after the paparazzi released a photo of you leaving a bar late at night with all the members of The New Avengerz; lipstick smudged, messy hair and disheveled clothesâŠ
It was safe to say the tabloids had a field day with this picture, branding you as the New Avengerz' number one whore, and that was the nicest thing they had to say, and what's worse is that not a single one of them denied it.
The feud became real, and you and your girls were out for blood. If TNAz had a concert in the city you took their spot, new single coming out? Princess and the Poppers just announced their upcoming album.
You wanted them to bleed money, you wanted them gone and forgotten, specially their drummer Bucky Barnes.
You knew they would perform too tonight, but you hoped you'd be done before they arrived for their sound check. "I thought there was a smell of wine and cheap perfume!" you and your girls laughed but there was no affection in your eyes, "why do you even bother with sound checks? Isn't your music supposed to sound like garbage?" you wondered out loud, deeply enjoying their angry faces.
Before John or Yelena could talk trash, Bucky beat them to it "There she is, our number one fan" his voice was laced with cruel intentions, â bastard. â
You decided you weren't going to be baited by the likes of him, so you and your band continued as if no one was around, "You know, you're going to have to talk to me eventually!" he shouted as if he was entitled to even be listened to.
With your blood boiling you took the microphone, "This next song is for a soulless dirtbag I used to know."
After James finds you crying alone at the children's park, he finally decides to stop holding back. Years of hurt, resentment, and unanswered questions spill out in a confession neither of you is prepared for.
But instead of bringing clarity, his honesty leaves you torn between guilt and anger. Because while James is convinced you abandoned him, you're certain he has no right to judge choices he never understood.
Yet no matter how hard you clash, no matter how many wounds are ripped open, the care between you refuses to fade. And that might be the most frustrating part of all.
âž PAIRING: Mechanic!James Bucky Barnes x Fem!Citygirl!Reader
âž WARNINGS: Reader pov, angst, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, mean reader, grumpy x grumpy, no use of y/n, not beta read, lot of arguments, reader is hotheaded and also very horny, please excuse her she's just a girl, daddy issues, financial debt, angry bucky too in this one
(image does not depict reader)
âž WORD COUNT: 19.7K
âž A/N: Thanks for all the suggestions on the previous parts! It really helps me understand if Iâm being partial to the characters. The hate for her dad is universal, and sadly, his lines were not completely fictional. Some of those have been told to me as well, so a hug for everyone with shitty fathers đ«
Part 1 | Part 2
"You been cryin'."
His words were deep, but there was no edge to them. He was just... observing.
"No." You denied. "I got sprayed by a.. sprinkler." you murmured.
James scoffed, and the rush of air across your legs made your breath hitch.
"You've still got tears on your cheeks." he pointed out gruffly. "Don't lie..."Â
There it was, the damned nickname again.Â
Your eyes were still shut, but you could sense his gaze on you. You could feel his breath on your legs, the heat of his body right in front of you, the weight of his hands on your knees.Â
Your face scrunched. "Stop.. calling me that. We're not kids anymore.. I don't go around calling you Bucky." You said.Â
He scoffed again, and you could clearly picture the way his jaw would clench at your words.
"You ain't the boss a' me." he said, and your mouth dropped at his response.
You finally opened your eyes slightly, peering at him through your lashes. He was right in front of you, his hands still gripping your knees. He was staring up at you with narrowed eyes, and your breath caught when you saw- were those .. frown lines between his brows?
"You don't get to decide what I call you." he continued, his mouth twisted.
He shifted on his knees, his hands still holding yours. He was so close you could almost count the individual dark lashes framing his eyes.
He called your nickname again, and your attention was snapped back to present, to the hurt still coiling in your chest.
His mouth was set in a frown, jaw clenched and eyes were trained right on you. The blues in them were... intense to say the least.
"What?" you managed hoarsely. God, you barely recognized your own voice.
There was a long stretch of silence as he worked his jaw, his hands squeezing your knees again involuntarily, and you almost hissed at the sensation.Â
"Why are you crying?" He asked, voice low and calm like his hands were working of their own accord.
"I'm not crying now. And even if I was, itâs none of your business." yYou shot back half heartedly.
His eyes narrowed, and one hand left your legs.
Before you could react, the same thick finger swiping across your damp cheeks. You gasped at the sudden contact, resisting the urge to jerk away.
His hand paused, and you could suddenly feel the roughness of his fingertips against your skin. He pulled it back, then gave you a look that said âReally?â
Your heart was in your throat now, and you couldn't seem to find words. It felt like the moment was stretching out unnecessarily.
"I.. heard you two. Talking about me." You answered his question.
There was a flash of guilt that suddenly overtook his face, and it was so brief you almost didn't catch it.
His mouth twisted into a harsh frown, but he didn't move back. He stayed right in front of you, still crouched on the ground.
"You were eavesdropping?" he demanded gruffly.
A muscle jumped in his jaw again, and his eyes darkened. His hands moved down to your knees again, and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest at the contact.
"You had no right." he growled suddenly, and for some reason the irritation in his voice made heat rise to your cheeks again.
"I had every right, you were talking about me." you shot back hotly, your irritation increasing at his words. "I can't help it, you guys were loud."
His fingers tightened around your knees, his hands almost holding your legs hostage now. You swallowed again, trying to ignore the way your brain was suddenly feeling... fuzzy.
"You didn't have to listen." he shot back, and your eyes narrowed again.
This had to be the most uncomfortable position ever. You hated to imagine what he would look like kneeling for different reasons. Still, you managed to keep a semblance of control.
"And you didn't have to bitch about me." you replied harshly.
James' jaw clenched again, and you caught the flash of anger in his eyes.
"I wasn't bitching about you!" he insisted, eyes flashing. "Don't be dramatic."
"Yeah, right.. 'cause calling me a spoiled brat and too much trouble is definitely not bitching." You retorted.
James inhaled sharply, and you could tell you'd touched a nerve. You should be feeling guilty, being a little less vicious to him. But you didnât.
"I wasn't bitching." he repeated gruffly, his hands clenching around your knees again. "Your dad said that, and I donât think itâs wrong to state a fact."
Your blood boiled, and you clenched your jaw at his words.Â
A fact? Is that how he sees you too? Spoiled, fussy, bratty?
You'd spent your whole life trying to prove otherwise.
âAnd you just stood there, agreeing with him?â you retorted, voice a mix of anger and hurt. âGod, you are just as bad as him. Canât even pick a damn side. It was only yesterday you said that you hated my dad for letting me go, and then youâre standing in my kitchen gossipping and taunting like high school kids.â you said, ranting off everything on your chest.
His grip tightened and his jaw worked for a moment. âSo I should fight with your old man in his house for reminiscing about his daughter?â he said, and the wording set you off again.
You stood up, making him almost stumble back. "Is that what it was? âReminiscingâ by calling me bratty and stubborn? I don't know why I ever came back to this hellhole. All you guys ever care about is pulling someone else down instead of doing something for yourself." you said angrily, chest heaving, before you turned towards the exit.
He stood up too, towering over you and reaching out a hand to grab your arm.
Before you could yank it back, his fingers wrapped around your forearm. Your mouth went dry at the heat of his palm against your skin, and you felt the roughness of his skin against yours.
"You can't just.. go." he said, looking at the ground. For a moment, you thought he was feeling guilty, but then that thought practically flew out of your head when he suddenly yanked you towards him.
You stumbled on your feet at the motion, your body toppling to the side dangerously, right against him.
His free hand quickly came up to grasp your waist, stopping you from falling.
All of a sudden, you were so close, practically pressed against him, every part of your body coming into contact with his hard body. Your face was level with his chest, and god it was infuriating how he smelled so damn good.
Your mind clouded for just a second before you snapped out of it.
"I can, and I will. Because nobody fucking cares about me here, and I don't know why I even expected it." you shot back, looking away.
You tried to push back, but it was like pushing against a solid wall. He was strong.
Your hands were pressed up against his chest, and the cotton of his shirt was stretched tight against his pectorals. It was like feeling an iron pillar under his shirt, hard and unrelenting in its strength.
You shook that thought away. "Let go, James." you said, your voice somehow still steady.
He swallowed, and you saw the way his chest moved up and down as his breathing seemed to get more labored.
James seemed frozen, staring down at you intently.
"You're wrong." He says, quiet but full of meaning. You were about to retort that he was nitpicking at you again but he beat you to it.
"You're wrong. People here do care about you." he interrupted, his voice quieter now than before.
His gaze was intense on yours, and you were suddenly aware of how close you were to him because the faint scent of him, something like musk and woodsmoke was wrapping around you.
You swallowed dryly.
"Like who? Like you, who can't go two seconds without showing me how perfectly you've replaced me in my house?" the bitterness came out automatically, like the defense mechanism you always fell behind.Â
That seemed to hit a nerve.
His hand on your waist pulled you closer with a little jerk. Your chest was now almost pressed up to his, and your heart seemed like it was trying to bruise itself against your own rib cage.
His jaw clenched again, and you could see the way his hands were starting to shake, almost as much as your own were.
His eyes were focused on your face again, and you could see the flash of something unreadable on his sharp features. But there was also agitation. His jaw was clenched, and his fingers were trembling against your arm and waist.
Your eyes darted down to his lips, just for a second, before flickering back up to his eyes. Your mouth felt dry, his gaze felt like it was stabbing into you, and your legs were starting to feel fuzzy.
"Damn it, say something." you muttered, annoyed at his lack of response.
He swallowed, his throat bobbing. His face seemed to move a fraction closer to you.
"No." he said quietly.
"No?" you were confused.
"I won't say anything.. because I'm tired of fighting with you. If youâre.. so upset about me talking to your dad about you, I wonât do it, but can we just stop this? I just.. I just want my friend back." the words sounded like it cost him to say them.
Your jaw worked silently, your mind painfully aware of every part of you in contact with every part of him.
"That's.. that's delusional. How can you expect that when you're not the Bucky I left?" You said.
His fingers flexed against your waist, and you noticed they were shaking again.Â
âIâm still your Bucky. That hasnât changed, it can never change.â he spoke quietly, blue eyes boring into yours.
Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest.
Your Bucky.
"That's .. not true, and you know it.. my.. " you almost repeated it, "my friend would never talk like that about me. I get that you're mad I left, but I didn't do anything to hurt you.. I had no choice. I don't get why you're acting like I'm your enemyâ"
Before you could continue, his hands were suddenly on your shoulders, and you were spun around. You stumbled backwards, almost into the bench, but strong hands caught you, grabbing your waist again and keeping you steady. You found your back suddenly resting against his chest, and his hands were still on your waist.
And then he started speaking, words tumbling like he had been holding onto them for so long.Â
"I was furious. I was furious you just left." he said, his hands clenching around your waist again.
You'd never felt this kind of emotion in the words exchanged between you two before.Â
He let out a deep sigh behind you, his hands pressed on your shoulders, almost like he was keeping you in place.
"I was angry that you just decided to take off, without thinking about anyone else. I was angry that you just ... ran away. Didn't even bother calling home."
You felt trapped, more so by the words than the bench and him. Every word he said just made you feel guiltier.Â
"I missed you." he said quietly, the words almost startling you, and you felt your own breath get caught in your throat. "Missed having you around. You were the one always there, dragging my ass around and never letting me sulk after getting bullied."
This was a whole different side of him. A vulnerable one.Â
"No matter how many people called me fat, you stole pies with me .. you snuck into the Rogers' orchard with me, even broke your stupid shin trying to get an apple." He murmured, almost speaking to himself.Â
You swallowed painfully, trying to resist the urge to lean back into his chest. He went on talking, almost like you weren't even there.
"No matter what I did, you always stood by me. Always, it was the two of us against all those assholes who made fun of us.. From kindergarten to highschool, you were just.. always there, helping me, saving me from flunking Chemistry, saving me from being stood up at prom.."
He fell silent for a second, before clearing his throat, and speaking again.
"And then you just .. left. Left us all. Left me. It was like I couldn't breathe. Everything reminded me of you."
You wanted to say something, defend yourself maybe, but he continued speaking. "We used to stand there, climbing the fence to see the sunset over the houses. I never thought.. you'd go the other side, leaving me behind." he murmured.
Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest again, and you felt guilt bubble up in your gut.
"It was.. it was like I was drowning. Everywhere I went, I saw you. I didn't go out for days.. the only place that felt like before was your house." he murmured, hands moving absently on your arm.
âI.. hung out with your parents, thinking maybe youâd show up one day unannounced, surprise them. I didnât want to be left out when that happened. It started small, I swear, just.. mowing out the lawn once in a while, taking out trash when your momâs back was hurting. And then it became talking.. remembering how you were, how we were. I never meant to replace you.â he said quietly, making a fresh wave of hurt roll through you.
Had he really waited all this time, hoping youâd pop up?
"Then.. your mom started tellin' about all the dates you were goin' in the city." His tone went slightly rigid, and you stiffened.
"She.. she told you about them?" you breathed.
"Yeah she did." he grunted. "Every damn thing you were doin'."
He was still just touching you, his fingertips grazing your skin. But even that featherlight contact sent goosebumps all over your skin.
"Why?" you murmured, feeling weird about him knowing your love life.
"Because I kept asking." he answered.
He leaned down again, and the roughness of his stubble scraped lightly along your cheek. It made you shiver, your skin tingling from the contact.
"Kept asking about where you were, what you were doing, how you were doing. Your mom loved to talk about it, made it sound like you were living the high life now that you were away."
You could tell the bitterness that was masked in his words.
âI was studying, and working part time, just to complete my tuition, and after that I worked my ass off for the job I got. Just because I never told her about the sleepless nights or workloads doesnât mean I was out there partying or going on dates every night.â you said, crossing your arms.
His face scrunched into a look you couldnât quite pin. Your brows furrowed. "Don't tell me you're mad I dated people." you said.
His hands paused at the movement, his fingers burning on your skin.
"Of course I am." he gritted out, and you could practically hear the way his gaze was fixed above your shoulder again."You just ran away and suddenly you're dating god knows who and having fun in the city, like those of us here didn't even exist anymore."
"That." You exhaled deeply. "That wasn't the only thing I was doing, okay? I just told you, I was studying and working hard, don't make me sound like a villain you've painted in your mind."
 âAnd phones exist. If you were missing me so much you couldâve just called.â you added.
He swallowed again, âI donât have a phone.â
You blinked. âYou live off-city, not off-planet. How can you not have a phone?â you said incredulously.Â
"Thatâsâ irrelevant. You left." He repeated, almost like a child.
That simple fact seemed to be the core of all his rage and hurt.
You sighed deeply.
"I had to. There's nothing in this town that could contain my dreams." you whispered.
There was a beat of silence, and then his hands were finally off of you.
You felt a pang of disappointment at the absence of his hands, and you inhaled, looking up at him.
His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he was glaring down at you with those darkened blue eyes. The same intense eyes he had been boring into you with this whole time.
"People built a life here, they didn't need some big city filled with idiots to find a purpose." he said defensively.
You scoffed, suddenly feeling defensive, too.
"So that means I shouldn't try to build a life for myself, huh? I should've just stayed in town and found a nice man, had some little kids and been done with it?" you asked, your voice slightly sharp.
"I'm just sayin' you could've stayed." he gritted out, and it sounded like the words were forced.
"You stayed. Tell me, how's that working out for you?" you said, slightly taunting.
He fell silent again, the muscle in his jaw twitched, and you knew he was angry now.
"Yeah. That's what I thought." you said, almost mockingly.
Damn him. He was acting like you were some spoiled brat for leaving, with no good reasons, and all that guilt you had been feeling earlier had vanished. All you could feel now was irritation.
"Don't be like that." He muttered annoyedly, making you scoff.
"I have no other choice, every one in this town seems hell bent on acting like I murdered somebody, while all you guys are doing is drowning in debt and working at fucking car repair shops." you blurted out before thinking it through.
"Jesus Christ." he snapped, finally raising his voice.
"You think I wanted to stay? You think I had a choice?" His hands came out of his pockets and gestured wildly between you two.
"I stayed because this is my home! Because my mom needed me! Because Rebecca needed someone who gave a damn about her!"
Your face twisted. "So you're implying I don't care about my parents? I was fucking ready to give up all of my savings just so mom could get her shop out of debt." you retorted.
James froze, his anger evaporating in an instant.
His mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out. His hands dropped to his sides again.
For the first time since you'd been back... he looked shocked. Like he genuinely hadn't known that about you.
You hadn't meant to say that.
"Go ahead, now call me a bitch for counting the favours. But I know what I am." You muttered. âWhich is someone who isnât using them as an excuse to hold back. You can act like youâre a better person but it doesnât change the fact that we both made our choices, like adults.â you said.
"Iâm.. not trying to act like Iâm better than you. Iâm just trying to tell you that you hurt me."
His voice was softer now, all the anger gone. He sounded ... guilty? Confused?
"And you don't have to do that. I never knew you wanted to give them money." he looked down.
"Of course you don't, you're too busy hating me to actually see what I'm doing now." you said, looking away.
James exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.
"I don't hate you." he said firmly. "I never hated you. I hated what you did."
He took a step closer.
"I was just ... pissed that you left without looking back."
"I saw my chance and I took it. And I'm not ashamed about it." you said, crossing your arms
James exhaled slowly, his expression softening even more.
"I get that." he said quietly. "I do."
He shifted on his feet, looking down at the ground for a second before meeting your eyes again.
"But you never told me... any of it."
"Like you would listen." you said, voice tempering down.
"All you had was stars in your eyes whenever my dad was around. Even now you canât see how he acts towards me. Itâs like I donât even exist to him, and when I do, he remembers that itâs an inconvenience."
"Your dad was a good guy." James said stubbornly, but his voice lacked conviction now. "I don't know what you're talkin' about."
He looked genuinely confused, like the idea that your father wasn't some saint had never crossed his mind.
Christ, he really had been blind.
You laughed humourlessly and rolled your eyes.
"You may look different now, but you're still that naive Bucky who stuffed his face and didn't think more than he had to." you said bitterly before turning to leave, shaking your head.
James' face twisted.
"I am not naive," he snapped, immediately stepping in front of you to block your path. "You can't just say that and walk away."
"I can, because you're acting like it." you said, shooting him a glare. âHe says a few nice words to you and now youâre siding with him over me? Has resentment made you so blind?â
"How would you be feeling if I left without a word? Huh? Just up and left and never looked back?" he demanded.
"I would respect your choice, not blame you for wanting a different life." you replied.
He scoffed, some of his anger returning.
"Bullshit." he grumbled through clenched teeth. "You wouldn't have respected jackshit."
You rolled your eyes at his statement.
"You don't get to just get up and leave one day, without even saying goodbye, and then show your face here again and act like you did nothing wrong."
The words sent something twisting painfully through your chest.
He was right. But that still didn't justify his anger.
"What do you want me to do, beg for your forgiveness?" you said.
He took a step even closer to you, and despite the irritation running through your veins, your heartbeat increased.
You had to crane your neck to look up at him; his shoulders looked so broad now, his arms so big.
James' hands suddenly shot out and grabbed your forearms now, effectively
trapping you in place. Your heart hammered in your chest at his touch.
"I want you to... act like you have the decency to acknowledge you did something wrong." James said, and your nostrils flared.
His gaze was burning into yours. And you wanted to look away, look anywhere but at him, but he was holding you in place firmly.
"I am not apologizing for something I didn't do. It's not my fault you want to live in this hole in the ground for the rest of your life." you said.
His jaw worked, and he looked like he was on the verge of telling you off again, when suddenly, he closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. His head tilted upwards, gracing you with the view of his adam's apple, the light stubble disappearing beneath his chin.
Your throat went dry for a few seconds, before you shook yourself out of it.
"Praying to god, are you?" you muttered, and he exhaled in slight annoyance.
"It's going to rain." He murmured out of the blue.
You blinked, thrown off by his random statement.Â
"No it's not. It's the middle of May." you muttered.
He lifted his head back up, opening up those piercing blue eyes again. It did nothing for your brain right now, just made the heat in your body rise to the surface.
"It's gonna.. I can feel it." he replied.
He seemed to be concentrating on something, his brows furrowed and his grip still around your forearms.
His eyes darted left and then right, before looking at you again.
"You should get home."
You stared at him with furrowed brows, confused.
"Why?" you asked stupidly, the word tumbling out of your mouth automatically.
James' hands suddenly let go of your arms, and you immediately felt the cold air at the loss. You resisted the urge to shiver.
"Just... you shouldn't be out here when it's about to rain." he said, not really answering your question. He took a step backward.
"Maybe I want to stand out in this non-existent rain." you said, crossing your arms.
He gave you a look. "You can't be serious. You're wearing cotton clothes.."
You rolled your eyes irritably at his concern. He was starting to act like his old self again.
"I'm an adult. I can take care of myself." you retorted.
He scoffed again, the familiar sound making your irritation rise again.
"Oh, can you? The adultest adult to ever adult." He mocked.
"Wow, that's such a mature thing to say." you mocked him back
His forehead furrowed indignantly at your sarcasm, and you felt the urge to smirk.
There was the James you were familiar with.
"It's not about maturity," he gritted out. "It's about common sense."
"Yeah, and common sense says there's no rain right now." you replied.
He clenched his jaw, a muscle jumping in his cheek in annoyance. You wanted to run your hand along it.
"You're bein' stubborn. It's going to." He shot out through clenched teeth. "You should get home before it starts."
Your brows furrowed, the irritation increasing. Was he really trying to kick you off the street so quickly?
"I'll be fineâ" you started, and suddenly a drop of water dropped onto your face, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyes darted upwards.
You closed your eyes, a scowl on your face.
That son of a gun was right.
A couple of other raindrops fell onto your nose and cheeks. You reached up a hand to brush your hair out of your face, and when you felt a few bigger droplets hit the back of your hand, you groaned lowly.
James, meanwhile, was staring at you with a smug, satisfied expression.
"Now will you please get out of the rain?" He asked smugly, his eyes glinting with something that resembled mischief.
Hi! Just wanted to request a Bucky Barnes x Roger!reader, set during Civil War. The reader was taken by Hydra along with Bucky, so they were on the run together. When everyoneâs fighting, the reader gets badly injured by Black Panther because he thinks the reader killed his dad, and Bucky doesnât hold back. Angst and hurt/comfort. Thank you xx
Sheâs Innocent -> Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier
Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend/Rogers!Reader, Platonic!Steve Rogers x Platonic!Sister Reader with Team Cap and Team Iron Man
Summary: You get framed for TâChallaâs fatherâs death and he ends up injuring you badly and Bucky doesnât hold back and him and Steve are determined to prove that youâre innocent.
Warnings: Angst, Fluff, language, reader gets framed for TâChallaâs fatherâs death, Zemo (heâs a warning in this), violence, crying, blood, hospitals, kissing, pet names
Youâve been on the run and in hiding with Bucky in Bucharest, Romania for two years. You and Bucky are at the market getting a few groceries when you two sensed that something was off. You two werenât sure what it was, but it could also just be a feeling. As you and Bucky were about to leave the market, a vendor employee made eye contact with you for a few seconds before running away from the vendor stand. You and Bucky walked across the street to the vendor stand and looked at the newspaper thatâs on the counter. Yours and Buckyâs hearts sank when you two saw the front page of the newspaper. It was you. You were being framed for something. You donât know how you could possibly be framed for something when you were with Bucky this whole time. You looked up at Bucky with the look of fear in your eyes.
âEverything is going to be ok, doll.â Bucky softly assures.
Bucky protectively wraps his arm around you and you two made yours and his way home. Your brother was in yours and Buckyâs apartment when you two got home. Steve turns around when he felt a presence a few feet away from him. He felt relieved to see that you and Bucky are alive.
âDo you remember me?â Steve asks you.
âYouâre Steve. I read about you in the museum.â You say.
âY/N, Iâm your brother, remember? Youâre a year younger than me.â He says softly.
Due to how fuzzy your mind is, it took you a moment to remember that Steve is your brother.
âStevie.â You said.
That made Steve smile. He never thought heâd hear you call him that nickname again.
âYouâre here to turn me in for something I didnât do, arenât you?â You say, your voice shaky.
âIâm here to protect you. I know youâre innocent. Iâm not going to let anything happen to you.â Steve says.
You let out a shaky breath. Buckyâs hand gave your hand a comforting squeeze.
âYou guys know how this is going to end, right?â You say.
âItâs going to end with us protecting you.â Bucky says.
âNo, itâs not. Itâs going to end with me behind bars for something I didnât do.â You say.
âNo, itâs not. Weâre not going to let that happen.â Steve says.
All three of you were put on high alert when a grenade was thrown through the window. Steve put his shield over it to protect the three of you from the explosion of it. The door was busted down with a battering ram and cops entered yours and Buckyâs apartment. Bucky knocked out one of the cops by slamming his head into the wall when one of them tried to grab you.
âRun!â Bucky and Steve say to you.
You nodded and ran out of the apartment. You fought anyone who got in your way. Bucky and Steve werenât too far behind you. You ran as fast as your legs would let you. The Super Soldier serum gave you an advantage. You ran throw a hallway of the apartment complex and jumped over to the building next door, landing on the roof.
âI see your sister.â Sam informs Steve.
âKeep an eye on her please.â Steve says.
âOn it, Cap.â Sam says.
You got knocked down by TâChalla whoâs dressed in his Black Panther uniform. You stood up and got into a fighting position. You saw his claws come out. Thereâs no doubt that youâre going to walk away with some scratches from his claws. To avoid that from happening, you dodged him the best you could. You got knocked down by him again. You grabbed both of his wrists and used all of your strength to keep him from scratching you. Bucky saw and rushed over to you. He got TâChalla off of you by tackling him to the ground. Bucky stands up and helps you up. You two ran as fast as you two could to get away from TâChalla. Steve was right behind you guys. Before you guys knew it, all of you were stopped by Rhodey and the cops.
âCongratulations, Cap. Youâre a criminal.â Rhodey says.
Bucky protectively holds you against him and Steve stands in front of you to prevent the cops from putting handcuffs on you.
âStep away from her, guys.â Rhodey says.
âNo.â Bucky and Steve say at the same time.
âItâs ok, guys.â You say softly.
Bucky and Steve looked at you. You gave them a nod. They hesitantly stepped away from you. The second they did, you were shoved to the ground and handcuffed. It broke Buckyâs and Steveâs hearts to see. They were put into a vehicle shortly after you were handcuffed. The ride was dead silent until TâChalla spoke up.
âHow long do you think you can keep your sister safe from me?â TâChalla asks Steve.
âShe didnât do it. Sheâs been framed.â Bucky says.
âBucky.â Steve softly warns.
âItâs true and you know it, Steve.â Bucky says.
Steve knows itâs true. He just doesnât want an argument to break out in the vehicle. When the vehicle comes to a stop, itâs at a facility. When Bucky and Steve got out of the vehicle, they saw you in a pod like youâre a criminal.
âAre you fucking serious? Sheâs not a criminal. Get her the hell out of it.â Bucky says.
âItâs for everyoneâs protection.â Ross says.
âNo, itâs not. You guys just want to put her in a maximum security prison for something she didnât do.â Bucky says.
âSheâs a dangerous to everyone.â Ross says.
âNever fucking say that about my sister! Sheâs anything but dangerous!â Steve growls.
âSorry, Rogers. This is whatâs best for her.â Ross says.
âYou donât know whatâs best for my sister! Bucky and I know whatâs best for her and this isnât best for her!â Steve says.
âItâs just for precaution, you guys.â Natasha says.
Bucky and Steve scoffed at her and Ross. They were taken to a room that looks like a conference room.
âHow has she been?â Steve asks Bucky.
âShe has her good days and bad days. Other than that, sheâs been doing good. Iâve been taking care of her.â Bucky says.
âThank you for taking care of my sister, Buck.â Steve says.
âYou donât have to thank me, Steve. You know Iâm more than happy to take care of your sister.â Bucky says.
Meanwhile, youâre still locked up in the metal pod like a criminal. Zemo entered the room youâre in. He sat down at the table thatâs a few feet away from you.
âHello, Miss. Rogers.â Zemo greets you.
You didnât greet him back. You just started at him with narrowed eyes.
Zemo didnât stop asking you questions. You chose not to answer them. Bucky and Steve were watching on a security camera screen in the room theyâre in.
âI donât know why they called someone in to get through to Y/N. The only people who can get through to her is us.â Bucky says.
Steve nods in agreement. Thatâs when the power goes out. Everyone looked at each other in confusion, wondering why the power went out. Bucky and Steve were the only ones who werenât confused. They know whatâs going on. They ran to the room youâre in, only to find out that you broke free of the metal pod. Bucky and Steve saw Zemo on the floor. Steve grabs his shirt, pulling him up from the floor and shoving him against the wall.
âWhat the hell did you do to my sister?!â Steve asks, almost growling.
âYouâll see.â Zemo says, smirking evilly.
Thatâs when you came back into the room and started attacking your brother and your boyfriend. They quickly realized that youâre in Winter Soldier mode. They dodged all of the punches and kicks. They did everything they could to not hurt you.
âY/N, this isnât you. You have to snap out of this.â Steve says.
You didnât snap out of it. You continued fighting them. Bucky and Steve did everything they could to get through to you. When they were finally able to get ahold of you, they took you somewhere safe, which was an abandoned warehouse. When you finally came to and you were your normal self, you already know what just happened, especially from the way Bucky, Steve, and Sam were looking at you.
âIt happened, didnât it?â You asked, referring to you being in Winter Soldier mode a little bit ago.
âYes.â Bucky and Steve say.
You sighed and covered your face with your hands in embarrassment. You knew it was going to happen sooner than later.
âWhich Y/N am I talking to?â Steve asks just to be sure.
âItâs me, Stevie.â You say.
You gave him that nickname when you two were kids. That answer was enough for Steve to know that youâre back to your normal self.
âI didnât do what everyone thinks I did. You guys have to believe me.â You say.
âWe believe you, doll. Just know that everything is going to be ok.â Bucky says.
âIs it though? Everyone thinks I murdered someone and I should be put into a maximum security prison. I donât want to go to jail.â You say, your voice cracking and your eyes tearing up.
âYouâre not going to jail. Weâll make sure of it.â Steve says.
âIâm scared, you guys.â You say.
Bucky and Steve walked over to you and hugged you. Thatâs when you broke down into tears. Their hearts broke for you.
âLucky for you, you have us. You know that we wonât let anything bad happen to you.â Bucky says softly.
âI donât know you like your brother and Bucky do, but you have me too.â Sam chimes in.
âThank you, guys. That really means a lot.â You say.
âWeâll always have your back. You know that.â Steve says softly.
âââ
You were hidden safely inside of the empty airport with Bucky and Sam while Steve went to go talk to Tony. The three of you watched from the window as your brother talk to Tony. From the looks of it, it looked like it wasnât going well. Your nerves are through the roof. Bucky held your hand, giving it a gentle and comforting squeeze. That made you smile.
âOk. You know what, youâre going to turn in your sister whether you like it or not.â Tony says.
âIâm telling you that she didnât do it. Sheâs innocent. My sister would never intentionally hurt or kill anyone.â Steve says.
âYou can say that all you want, Rogers, but your sister killed someone and sheâs going to jail for it.â Tony says.
âShe didnât do it!â Steve says.
Tony still didnât believe Steve, which led to a fight. You were still safely hidden inside of the airport. Or so you thought.
âI got 3 heat signatures inside of the airport. Itâs Steveâs sister, Barnes, and Wilson.â Rhodey says.
âRogersâs sister is mine.â TâChalla says.
Steve acted fast when TâChalla made his way towards the airport. He quickly got in front of him, blocking him from getting any closer to the airport.
âCaptain.â TâChalla says.
âYour highness.â Steve says.
âMove.â TâChalla says.
âNo.â Steve says.
Steve did what he could to protect you and stand his ground. Heâs not going to let anyone get their hands on you and throw you into a maximum security prison. Bucky isnât going to let anyone do that either. Now, all of you are standing on the tarmac.
âWhat do we do now?â You asked.
âWe fight.â Steve says.
You took a shaky deep breath as you, Bucky, Steve, Sam and the rest of your team walked towards Tony and his team.
âTheyâre not stopping.â Peter says.
âNeither are we.â Tony says.
As both teams approached each other, TâChalla had a murderous look on his face as he stared you down. He went straight for you. You used the fighting skills you learned in HYDRA to fight him, minus the killing part. You managed to dodge most of the punches he threw your way, but then he managed to grab ahold of your throat. He didnât choke you or slit your throat with his claws. He just placed his hand there so youâd be looking him straight in his eyes. You put your hands on his chest to push him away from you.
âI didnât kill your father.â You say.
âThen why did you run?â TâChalla asks.
You didnât answer him. Instead, you lifted your leg to knee him in his stomach, which made him let got of your throat. That didnât stop him from fighting you. You backed up quickly as his claws kept getting closer and closer to slicing you. You ended up tripping over something, which made you fall down. You looked up at TâChalla as he stood over you. He crouches down over you. One of his hands reached for your throat again with his claws out. Then you saw red around him. Both of you looked over at Wanda. She used her powers to get him away from you. You quickly scrambled to stand up.
âThank you, Wanda!â You say.
âYouâre welcome!â Wanda says.
You ran as fast as your legs would let you, but then TâChalla caught up to you. He jumped onto you from behind, tackling you to the ground. You used all of your strength to get him off of you. When both of you stood up, you and him stared each other down like you two were in the Wild West. You saw his claws come out and he approached you. You grabbed his arm when he tried to slice you. A sharp and pain filled gasp left your lips when the claws on his free hand slices you. You slowly looked down at the cuts on your stomach. Blood was beginning to pour out of each cut. You began to feel woozy due to how much blood youâre losing and fell down to the ground. Bucky saw and rushed over to you.
âDoll, talk to me. Whatâs wrong?â Bucky asks worriedly.
Thatâs when Bucky saw your shirt sliced and soaked with blood. His heart drops and his eyes grow wide at the sight of it. He knew TâChalla did that to you. Anger began coursing through his veins and he looked up at TâChalla with the look of anger on his face. He stood up and tackles TâChalla to the ground, throwing punches at him. Steve saw and ran over to him, pulling him off of TâChalla.
âCalm down, Buck.â Steve says.
âDonât tell me to calm down, Steve! He badly injured Y/N!â Bucky says.
Steve looks over at you, his eyes widening when he saw a small pool of blood underneath you. Both him and Bucky ran over to you.
âEveryone stop!â Steve shouts.
Everyone stopped fighting and walked over to you to see that youâre badly injured.
âShe needs medical attention.â Bucky says.
Steve couldnât agree more. Bucky picked you up bridal style and him and Steve rushed you to the nearest hospital. Everyone went with you guys. Buckyâs and Steveâs nerves were through the roof. They know that youâre going to pull through, but they couldnât help but think of the worst possible scenarios. Everyone was comforting them the best they could. Tony was doing research. Not just ordinary research. He was doing digging. Thatâs when he came across information. Information and picture proof that youâve been framed for TâChallaâs fatherâs death by Zemo.
âRogers, Barnes, you guys need to see this.â Tony says, handing them a tablet.
Bucky and Steve looked at the tablet. Itâs proof that you were framed for TâChallaâs fatherâs death and youâre innocent, which is what theyâve been saying all along.
âWe fucking told you guys that Y/N is innocent, but half of you guys didnât believe us! Now, she could possibly die due to the injuries he gave her!â Bucky says, raising his voice.
TâChalla looks at the tablet, which tells him that youâre innocent and didnât kill his father. He was too blinded by vengeance to see that. Now that he knows the truth, heâs done letting vengeance consume him. Now, all he feels is guilt. He doesnât even know where to begin with his apology for badly injuring you.
âYou better hope that Y/N survives this.â Bucky says to TâChalla.
A couple agonizing hours go by is when a doctor finally comes out to the waiting room to update Bucky, Steve, and everyone else on how youâre doing. Bucky and Steve quickly stood up from their chairs when they saw the doctor.
âIt was touch and go for a while, but sheâs fine. Sheâs in a patient room right now. I can take you guys to her.â The doctor says.
Bucky and Steve nodded and followed the doctor to your hospital room. You were just coming out of anesthesia when they came into the room. You smiled when you saw them. They felt relieved to see that youâre awake and doing fine.
âHi.â You smiled.
âHi.â They smiled back.
They walked over to you, sitting on either side of your hospital bed.
âIâm sorry that I scared you guys.â You apologized.
âYou have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Y/N.â Steve says.
âThe good thing is that you survived.â Bucky says.
You smiled at them.
âWe have good news.â Steve says.
âWhat is it?â You curiously asked.
âThereâs proof that you were framed.â Bucky says.
âThere is?â You asked.
âYes. Tony did some digging and found the proof.â Steve says.
âThatâs relieving.â You say.
You feel relieved to know that thereâs proof of your innocence, but you couldnât help but tear up.
âNo one believed me.â You say, your voice cracking.
âWe did and now, everyone else does.â Steve says.
âReally?â You asked.
Bucky and Steve nodded. You feel really relieved to know that everyone believes you now. The three of you looked over at the door when someone knocked on it. It was the Avengers.
âAre you up for visitors?â Natasha asks.
âOf course. Come in.â You say.
All of the Avengers came into your hospital room. All of them gave you hugs and told you that theyâre glad that youâre fine. Then it was TâChallaâs turn to say something to you.
âI would like to apologize for what I did to you.â TâChalla says.
You nodded, giving him permission to do so. You felt Buckyâs hand protectively tightened around yours.
âI am so sorry for what I did. I was so blinded by anger and wanting revenge. I just wanted someone to pay for my fatherâs death. I would never intentionally hurt or kill someone. Iâm done letting vengeance consume me. I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me.â He says.
âI do forgive you. I donât blame you for doing what you did either. I probably wouldâve done the same thing.â You say.
TâChalla smiles, liking how forgiving you are. He walks over to you and gives you a hug.
âSo, does this mean we all have some kind of truce?â You asked, looking at everyone.
You, Steve, and the Avengers agreed to the truce, except for Bucky. Heâs still not happy with TâChalla for what he did to you.
âBucky, we all agreed to a truce.â You say.
âYea, I know.â Bucky says.
âAre you going to agree to the truce too?â You asked.
âI donât know, doll.â He says.
âI know what youâre thinking, honey. Yes, I couldâve possibly died from the injuries TâChalla gave me, but I didnât. I survived it and he apologized. Thatâs all that matters.â You say.
Youâre right and Bucky knows it. Heâs just being an overprotective boyfriend, which he has every right to be.
âYouâre right.â Bucky agrees. âI agree to the truce too.â He says.
âGood.â You say.
You leaned up just enough to peck his lips softly without injuring yourself any further.
âI love you.â You say softly.
âI love you too, babydoll.â Bucky says just as softly.
All my stories are R18. IÂ write smut, and I may touch sensitive topics or topics that are not intended to be read by minors.
YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN CONTENT CONSUMPTIONS.
Masterlist
Pairing: MOB!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Warning/Tags: MOB AU, Angst, Smut, Hurt / Comfort, Blood, violence, blood, violence, punishment against a woman, age gap, smut, dubcon, arranged marriage, kind of second chance trope(?), mention of cheating, insecure thoughts, misunderstanding/miscommunication, alcohol consumption, swearing, lots of nicknames, mention of infertility, if im forgetting any warning im adding it late.
Word count: ~6.6k
Summary: You were forced to get married to the newest and most powerful mobster in town. Your father always got you as a bargaining chip to the highest bidder.
Author's Note: First, thanks (as always) to @kileyking for being so patient and for reading this like four times, you're the best! Iâve had this on my mind âcause Mob/Dark Bucky makes me feral, enjoy whatever is this⊠(also, this is not the second part of Treat You Better, that will come by Wednesday or so...)
This is a repost; if you've seen it before, feel free to read it again. I'll also appreciate support to get back to the community I had.
If this is the first time you've read me, I'd love for you to read this post.
James was never meant to be the leader of the packâbefore everything, he used to be this reckless, daredevil, but hardworking man. He never meant to lure your father into becoming the man he is now. He used to be your Jamie, and you were his princess, no more.
He was some years older than youânothing to worry about in other circumstances; your father could even have let it passâyour parentsâ age gap was way worse. But James was no one for him; he saw how James tried his best to give you what he could, how much he worked to bring you those flowers, to take you to fancy restaurants on your dates, but then he would spend the rest of the week hustling people to make ends meet.
Since your father had grown up as the heir to everything your grandfather had built over the years, he was not going to accept anything less than what he could give you in the blink of an eye. How could he accept it? Your mother had everything since day oneâyou had even more than they did, and you werenât going to fight to have anything just because you fell in love with a poor devil.
And you tried, you tried to make your father see he was a great man, that James could be the greatest possibility for you, but he had no intention to let you struggle in the meantime. He has no patience for the rest of the world, and that was not going to change for a stupid short-term boyfriend of yours.
When you turned eighteen, your father decided he had had enough of letting you and James play around. One morning, without previous warning, you were taken by their men to another country. You couldnât even fight; they just took you by your shoulder while you were getting ready to go to schoolâthere was blood, spitting, biting, cursing, one of the men even gave you a bruise on the arm because of how they were manhandling you. By the time you realized, three of your fatherâs men and you were walking to the airport bound for Mexico.
It was not a surprise that you were led to Mexico, your father had most of his connections there, most of his family there, and he always said that if he had to run away, you would go directly thereâand there you were flying to your grandmotherâs home now.
You never had the opportunity to say goodbye to James; you just disappeared from everyoneâs lives. Your mother visited you often, your siblings did too, but nothing was ever the same, and that was everything that was left of your previous life.
You always knew you were almost a bargaining chip for your fatherâalmost in a nice way. He was always telling your mother you were going to marry a very powerful man, the first man who overpowered him, and that man was not born yet.
Years went by, and for your sake, you decided just to forget and accept you wouldnât ever see James againâit was more likely to get married to a Mexican mobster than to see James once again in this lifetime.
Before you could even blink, your twenty-fourth birthday came, and along with it, your whole familyâs visit. They granted you a big, pretentious celebrationâand rumors here and there about James. He left the city months after you; no one knew about his whereabouts anymore, as if he had never existed.
You also got to know that a new mobster was in your hometownâsomeone who climbed the ladder faster than anyone. By the age of twenty-eight, he owned a pretty big corporation, he had moved most of the smuggling, and your father was eager to make him his partner. Your younger sister even heard him say, âhe was the living man he was waiting for you,â and hadnât even met him in person.
That made you trembleâthat was a given promise since you were younger, but you never thought a man could catch your fatherâs eye enough for him to even think about it.
Months passed by, and as you predicted, your father sent his men to pick you up from the city where you had lived for the last few years. The exchange was cleaner than the first time. You were still the feisty girl from your younger years, but now you knew better than to fight them.
You were in no position to deny yourselfâyou hadnât worked a second of your life, you had everything you wanted, and the deal was clear: you had to marry the man your father handed you.Â
When you arrived, your father was there, ever the most elegant and clean man. He looked even younger now that all your siblings were out of townâout of this life. But you were different; he always knew that his reckless oldest daughter would take his place and would marry a man as powerful as him to make an empire out of it.
And there you were, to comply with your part of the deal.
âYou look beautiful, my honey.â Your father said, kissing your knuckles. You smiled, hiding your teeth.
âLetâs get out of all the pleasantries, just give me the information.â
He sighed. He knew well what he was dealing with. But he always thought that those years studying far away would make you kind of softer.
âI just want to know who Iâm gonna marry, just tell me itâs not a fucking old manâI will kick his balls if he even tries to come near me.â
His smile grew wider, mischievously, and his eyes started to lighten up. He had the jackpot in his hands, and he knew.
âOh, my honey. You have no idea. This isâis perfect for you. He became perfect for youâand for me.â He almost murmured the last part.
âOh, that's it? We will see.â You raised your eyebrow and started walking.
âHe is known as The Winter Soldier, itâs a very cold, calculating, bloodthirsty, hardworking man,â he extended his arm to wrap yours, and you started walking to the mansion in front of you two, âyou will see he is not playing games when we talk about two things.â
âWhat two things?â You asked with curiosity.
âHis businessâand you.â A smug, almost cynical laugh slipped from you when you entered the living room.
âLaugh all you want, but I worked my ass off just to get you, princessâŠâ
That voiceâthat nickname, even the perfume that wrapped the whole place made you tremble, made your knees weak and your breath catch.
When you looked straight ahead, he was there on the threshold of the living room and a hallway that connected to your fatherâs office.
Your Jamie⊠or what was left of him.
âBucky Barnes, or Winter Soldier, as those idiots call me now.â
He was talking, you knew he was, but your mind was in other placesâin other years, to be more specific.
All those promises you made when you were two idiots in love, all those times you escaped by the window in the middle of the night just to see himâeven your very first timeâthat pretty baby face he still had back in time, somehow was imprinted on your mind.
âBucky made clear he could give his whole fortune away just to have youâI felt generous, so I just asked to merge our businesses.â
You nodded, you were really trying to look nonchalant, but you were in shock, speechless; your whole life was changed in that moment. You were facing the reality now, you were going to get married toâphysicallyâthe love of your life, but he was now a man changed. You probably did not even know who he was now.
By all the ghost stories you have heard over the months, you imagined a completely different man, not your Jamie, but there he wasâ his tattoos were now covered by a black, tailored, expensive suit, short well-done hair, sharp jawline, fierce ocean blue eye gaze, and some new scars decorated his face.
âIâll give you some space.â Your father said walking to the hallway.
You couldnât see, but that smug smile that you used to hate was there. He knew he had won a battleâa battle you didnât even try to win back in time.
âDid you miss me, princess?â He walked slowly to you; his heavy footsteps echoed in your ears.
âIâThisâ Are you really Jamie?â Your voice was a mess; you could not even deny it anymore.
He scoffed, a little smirk showing on his face. âBucky, princess. Now I prefer Bucky.â
You shook your head.
âHow didâthis happen?â You stuttered.
âI told you. I told you several times that Iâd do anything for you, and that included being the fucking boss of all of the people who worked near your father. Not gonna lie, it wasnât easy. But after the first pack was down, it got easier, and thenâyour father contacted me without even knowing who I was. He said he was interested in having businesses.â
He shrugged.
âI accepted but made it clear that I wanted more than just moneyâthe whole city knew he was willing to hand you to the higher bidder. And that was me at the moment.â
âHowâdid he accept?â
âHe couldnât say no; I had most of his ex-collaborators on my hands. And you cost me some millions, princess.â
That really hit a chord in your body. âWhat did you just say?â
âOh, princess. Donât be like thatâYou know how this works. Money had to be involved.â
He was now in front of you. He tried to touch your cheek, but you slapped his hand.
âWho the fuck are you?!â
âWe are not gonna do that, princess.â He sighed, âYou were all willing to get married to a fucking pig twice your age, but if itâs me, you draw the line?
ââCause I have no fucking idea of who you are!â You shouted, almost afraid.
âIâm your fuckin husband, better get the idea sooner than later.â He gripped your chin; it felt almost like a betrayal.
He had never even thought of raising his hand at you cause he used to know well how you hated it when your father did these kinds of thingsânot that he ever slapped you or hit you, but he tended to grip your chin, your arms, the back of your neck, just like a kind of reminder of who was in charge.
âI worked my ass off just to get you back to me,â he looked directly into your eyes, âand now you will get all dolled up for me. You will use a beautiful, white, and expensive wedding dress that I will completely destroy on our honeymoon, and you will do it with that fucking smile that made me fight all these years.â
Your chest heaving, you could feel the hot air coming through your nose. You didnât even realize when you started crying, but black tears were streaking down your cheeks.
He scoffed almost cynically. âYou and I both know you hate to cry, princess. Stop the act. Now, give me the kiss we both know you have saved for me the whole time you were there in Mexico.â
You swallowed. How did he know? You never told your father you didnât even date anyone thereâquite the opposite, you were always making fun of him by telling everyone you were playing and dating around the city, despite your father.
âWhat? Did you really think you were making a fool out of me?â He chuckled, âYou couldâve lied to your father, but the first thing I did after getting the means was to have an eye on you. Always.â
He cut the distance between you two; his eyes were locked with yours. âYou were not fooling around, you did not even talk to menâI saw you so many times in the club turning down all those fucking idiots who thought they had an opportunity with you.â
âIf you fucking knew where I was, why didnât you do something?! We couldâve been together way soonerâand not in this fucking way.â He tsked and smiled.
âNo, princess. You deserved a man, and what kind of man would I have been if I did that?â
âYou are a fucking asshole, and I fucking hateâI hated every fucking second in Mexico, I missed you like a fucking idiot, I cried my ass off half the time there⊠And you knew I was suffering and did nothing just to prove to my father you were man enough?!â
His grip on your chin got stronger; you could see his knuckles becoming white.
âDonât you fucking ever dare to tell me Iâm trying to prove anything to fucking anyone. I wanted to give you the life you deserve, and that needed time.â
He released his grip forcefully, making your head turn around.
He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. Walking out of your reach, you walked off to the living room, shouting, yelling, cursing everyone and everything that crossed your path till you found your mother.
âWhat the hell was that?!â You asked when you found your mother in her bedroom.
âI see you are not as happy as we thought you were going to be as soon as you saw Bucky.â
âThatâs exactly my pointâThatâs⊠Bucky, not Jamie, not my James. Who the hell is that man?!â
âThatâs who you always wanted to get married to. He did what he had to do to achieve it.â You yelled; you could swear your throat hurt after that.
âYou ruined my Jamie! You ruined him, fucking assholes.â
âWell, you knew the deal, he knew the deal, and made it hisâthatâs now your future husband. Suffer.â
The wedding was horrendously perfectâit was your dream wedding; he remembered everything and paid good money to make it happen. Every fucking detail. Your favorite flowers decorated the entrance exactly as you told him when you were only seventeen and stupid, the theme and colors around the venue were the fucking exact shade you explained to him.
And you hated it. You hated every fucking detail. You hated how perfect you looked in the dress your mother chose, you hated how well collected everyone looked as if you were not forced to get married toâyes, the love of your life. But not exactly who you used to call like that.
The ceremony was privateâjust you, your parents and family, and his family. Nothing more. But the reception was hugeâenormous.
You didnât even know how many attendees were invited. Your only job was to be there. Beautiful, smiley, chatty as always. You walked through the whole venue with Buckyâs arm. He never let go of you, not even once.
âThis is what you always wantedâwhy the fake smile, princess?â
âFuck off, Bucky. Just accept Iâm trying my best and live with it.â
His hand moved from your arm directly to your low back, stroking it low enough that you could feel his strong hand on your butt, even over all the layers your wedding dress had, without even realizingânot even sure if you wanted it, you trembled. Your cheeks flushed, and you looked up at him, trying to stop him.
âAhâthere she is. My beautiful princess. All flushed with only my touch. Donât worry, Iâll give you everything when this shitâshow ends.â
Your breath got stuck in your throat. You surely missed his touchâthe memory of it was a lifeline back in time, but you werenât really sure what you needed to expect now with this new man.
When the reception ended, Buckyâs men guided you to one of his armored trucks. He was guided to one completely different security matter, said his chief guard. You were used to that; your mother and your siblings never rode in the same cars as your father.
When you arrived at his mansion, the chief guard helped you to arrive at the master bedroom. The fucking door was decorated with red roses, and as you opened it, you realized it wasâor at least, it smelled like no one had ever touched it, like no one had ever been there.
You roamed through the bedroomânothing you have never seen, a walking closet, a big ass bathroom, everything you have always had. The walking closet was filled with clothing that you assumed was all yours. Everything new, everything your style. God, how much you hated how he still knew you that much.
âAll in here is newâeven the bedroom.â His hands gripped your waist.
âHuh?â You asked, trying to make space between you.
âYeah. When I bought the house, I closed this room with keys. I swore it was not going to be used until you came back to my arms.â
You swallowed hard; you could even feel the saliva getting stuck in your throat.
âBuckyâI donât⊠I donât think I canâŠâ He made you closer to him. His smirk made you tremble.
âOh, yes you can, and you will, princess,â He kissed your neck, his hands working the corset of your dress.
âNoâI⊠need time, Bucky. This is not what I wanted.â
âIs it not?â
When your dress fell to the floor, he slipped his hand through your torso, dancing slowly till his fingers touched the hem of your lingerie. A sudden gasp left your lips.
âTell me you didnât think about me all these years.â
His fingers worked their way until they found your most sensitive nook.
âIâm sure if I go further, I will find a veryâvery wet spot.â
Your mind was foggy, you really tried to shake your head, but his woody scent lingering on your nostrils made you feel like speaking was not a practical choice.
âCâmonâwhereâs my feisty little girl?â He murmured in your ear, nipping your lobule with his teeth.
âFuckâstop, please.â His middle finger made its way into your cunt.
âI think I canât, youâre squeezing me enough to remember how much you used to ask me to finger you even on my stupid beaten car,â He chuckled and rested his forehead on your shoulder. âGod, I missed you.â
Your hands were gripping his arm, and your nails were digging into his arm to try to make him stop, but you could even think he was enjoying that pain.
âHoney, Iâve had bullets on my arms, on my legs, one or two on my torsoâdo you think these pretty acrylic nails are gonna do any harm?â
When you tried to answer, he hooked a second finger on your slit. The overwhelming feeling was enough to make you feel sinfulâas if you were cheating on someone who didnât even exist anymore.
He stopped his curling painfully fast, taking them out of you just to lift you by your waist and tossing you to the bed. âWhat about we make up for the lost time?â
His gaze only reflected lust, his raspy voice was something elseâsomething you didnât even recognize in him.
He took one of your hands and made you work on his belt, pulling it lazily, slowly out. You were shaking your head, trying hard to close your legs.
With one knee, he made himself in, kneeling just in front of you while making you undo his zipper. Your chest was still going up and down, almost betraying you, your core completely damp with arousal, and your flushed cheek as a reminder of how much your body wanted this, even if you were denying it.
When his pants were down on his knees, he took them off and stood up at the edge of the bed and dug his fingers into your thighs, bringing you closer to him. You closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable, but a sudden thump made you lift your head.
The sight was almost angelicalâhe was kneeling on the edge of the bed, his hands caressing your legs slowly. His gaze followed those movements, slowly, deliberately, tenderly.
âI have seen you growing upâI saw you on your twentieth birthday, and I can swear I wanted to make you mine.â
He was tugging your panties down.
âDo you remember that night?â He hummed as he saw your bare core, smiling as if we were worshipping it. âYou were so drunk that you faintedâno, it wasnât because you didnât eat.â
The memories of that night came back to your head. You swore you drank one too many, that you didnât eat, that you were tiredâyour mind started to think about that night, but his wet tongue took you out of your thoughts.
His tongue slipped from your whole to your bud, nipping it enough to make your back arch.
âOh, princess. Donât think anything wrongâI didnât do anything.â His breath made you shiver; he talked in almost a whisper, letting his air wrap your damp core.
âThatâthat was you?â He kissed your core, just to suck a bit to make you stop thinking, to make you feel you didnât need to dig more.
âOf course it was me. I pay good money to spike your drink,â he stood up, leaving the cold air touching your bare cunt, âthose idiots you called friends were nothing but greedy peopleâI didnât have to ask twice after they saw the money.â
âWhat did you do?!â You lifted your body, resting it on your elbows. He chuckled while he unbuttoned his perfectly white shirt.
âDo you really think I would do something that terrible to you?â
He stopped at the last button. You could see the undershirt inviting you; you swallowed, shaking out your thoughts.
âI just saw you closeâclose enough to smell you one more time. You were sleeping heavily on that private booth; I let those fucking idiots know that if someone even thought of touching you, they were going to be dead before they even could touch a hair from that pretty head.â
He smirked at the memory. He kneeled now on the mattress, his hands covering your whole body.
âJust a few minutes to admire you, and then I left. I was not going to screw my whole planâit was too soon to make my appearance on your daddyâs business.â
âYou are a fucking psycho,â you shook your head, and really tried to move your body, but his hands caught yours in a grip.
âPrincess, donât break my heart,â his lips found your neck, biting it. âGod, how much I missed you.â
Suddenly, you felt his length; he was pumping himself slowly, steadily, while slipping the tip through your entrance, and without much warning, he put himself in. You sobbed, and you dug your nails into his back; this time, you could really feel wetness fromâprobablyâblood that came from the scratch.
âDonât you tell me you didnât miss me, I know you didnât let any man touch you as I did.â
And thatâs when you knew you were as fucked as he wasâthe sudden memory of all your nights together made you moan, made you feel yourself again in his arms, made you feel it didnât matter in that moment if he had to kill thousands of men just to get to you. Everything was worth it.
Five years later.
The first months were rough; he was always busy. The business merging between your father and him made both of them busier than before, making him stuck between wanting to show he didnât change as much as you thought and reminding the mob society who he was, that even when he got married, he could kill a man in cold blood, and with no remorse.
Years went by, and you found yourself accepting what you had to endure; you even made yourself fall in love again with that version of him. He was attentive, he paid attention to the details, and tried his best, even with his schedule. And you played your part well, being the perfect wife, helping him when it was necessary, not showing off too much, parading yourself with all the things he bought. You understood he was not coming back, and you only had one possibility: letting his past self stay there and accepting what was given.
You were sitting at your table. It was one of those days when you felt nostalgic, when all those memories came back to youâwhen you missed your old you, his old version, everything before any decision was taken from you both.
You were lying down on the bed with the photo album you could save from all your moves, there you found a younger version of Bucky, a version that your father⊠or maybe you killedâJamie. Those photos hurt, hurt like a needle breaking your skin, hurt just enough to remind you there was nothing you could do to go back.
The door suddenly opening didnât take you out of your hands, not even his expensive shoes echoing on the marbled floor, but you saw him in front of the hairdresser on the corner of the bedroom, taking his tie off, just to comb his hair back with a tired sigh.
âPrincess.â He greeted you while smiling through the mirror.
âHi, honey.â You said, not even batting an eye at him. He tilted his head; he was not used to you being this cold.
âSomething wrong?â He came closer with curiosity, âor too interesting to pay attention to your loving husband.â
You chuckled and closed the album, âJust ghosts from the past.â
âThe day you least expect it, I will burn that shit.â He said, looking at the photo album with disgust.
âIf you even try it, I will cut your balls, then burn them in front of all your men and workers.â
He knew well you werenât even jokingâin these five years you had trashed three cars, thrown and broken expensive cellphones, slashed tailored suitsâjust because he didnât pay enough attention to you when you needed it.
âFine, I won't touch that shit, I just donât get why you are so obsessed with that sorry ass manâI buried him long ago, and you still think about him.â
He tended to talk about his old past as if it were someone elseâas if it wasnât his past. And it was not something out of dismissing what he went through, but he hated to remember how conformist he was in the past, and how much he endured just to be the fucking man he was now.
âCâmere, princess.â He sat himself on the edge of the bed, patting his leg to invite you.
You stood up and sat on his leg; he wrapped his arms around your waist and inhaled your scent like a lifeline.
âPrincess, havenât I given you everything in this life?â
âSometimes I wish you hadnât.â He scoffed.
âAll because you miss a lame ass youngster?â
âStopâyou were different, you were mine, you didnât look for my fatherâs approval, you made your way to me and didnât mind anythingâŠâ
âYes, and they took you from my handsâ I didnât see you for a fucking year, and then I had to fucking drug you just to watch your pretty faceâpay your father to marry you, hand him half my business, just for you to be disgusted from my mere presence half the first year of marriage.â
You knitted your brows. âI was not disgustedâI was disappointed.â
He tilted his head, surprised, âWhy were you disappointed?â
ââCause we made you do thatâwe made you kill my Jamie and make all this fucking Winter Soldier persona, andââ you started sobbing, your breathing became erratic, tears streaking your face.
âNo, no. Please. Donât cry.â He sighed, âI know you miss it, but I try my best to give you everything, to show you we are better than ever.â
âMy Jamie didnât have to be reminded by a fucking stupid ass blonde assistant of our fucking anniversary.â
He groaned. He was tired, angry, and he hated how much you hated his assistant; he didnât even choose her. It was the fucking idea of Steve to pick her up, and since day one, she had been a problem in your marriage. Her very deep cleavage, unlike his very short pencil skirt, and fucking perfect makeup day by day.
âThere it isâthatâs all your fucking problem. Elsie is your fucking problem.â You opened your mouthâoffended, tired.
âShe is not my problemâyou are my problem. You are now too immersed in all of this world that you forget about me. And supposedly Iâm the reason for all this emporium, and you canât even give me a complete day just for me.â
He sighed. He knew you were right; he had always tried to give you everything he could, and sometimes got caught up and didnât make enough time for you.
âIâm sorry, okay? I will try my best. Just⊠I know Iâve been neglecting you, but for the love of God, can you stop accusing me of screwing that fucking blonde? I didnât even choose herâSteve did.â
âWell, you kept it!â
âYeah, âcause sheâs productive, and reminds me that I should praise my beautiful, gorgeous, and needy princess once in a while.â You rolled your eyes.
âJustâleave her alone, princess. She gets Steve entertained and leaves my ass alone in the meantime.â
âAnd gets you entertained.â You crossed your arms on your chest.
âCut it off.â He grumbled.
â
You were walking toward the kitchen when you saw Steve walking with Elsie, digging his fingers into her arm. For a moment, you stood still. Steve was this everâloving man, flirtatious, relaxed, you had seen several times your husband beating the shit out of men twice his size, and yet never seen Steve doing suchâhe was more discreet, he never liked to brag about his strength.
And there he wasâdragging Elsie by the hand and one hand tugging her hair. Karma was a bitch. She must have made a huge mistake.
But then, you saw Natashaâhigh heels, red hair, tired and almost lifeless, staring. Shit. She was in a huge problem. She was a mercenary; she had no mercy, and she was brought in when women engaged in business, and things were starting to get hard.
Your curiosity took the best of you and made you walk in their directionâ as soon as they got to the warehouse, you snuck in and hid behind some boxes.
âWhy the fuck did you think it was a fucking good idea to be spreading those stupid ass rumors?!â Steve yelled, tossing her on the floor.
She whimpered, and he took a step back.
Natasha passed his hands through his face. âWhat exactly did she do?â
Steve shook his head. âAsk her.â
âI didnât lie! He told me theyâve been trying for years and sheâs a fucking useless who canât even give him offspring!â
The blood in your veins started to run coldâalmost freezing.
It was something you had just talked with Bucky; no one else even knew that you were struggling with that. Maybe Steve had always been his sidekick, but besides that, you didnât expect that he was out there for the public.
A hard, shattering slap sound took you out of your thoughtsâNatasha was now caressing her own hand while Elsie was fully lying on the floor.
Steve was still pinching the bridge of his nose, exasperated. âI canât believe I fucking fight with Bucky just to keep this dumbass.â
Natasha chuckled, âWhen have you been good at choosing girls to fuck?â
âShut up. What do we do with her? If Bucky or she finds out sheâs been running her mouth, sheâs gonna cut my fucking balls, and itâs gonna fucking set the whole mansion on fire.â
By that moment, you werenât even fully paying attentionânow you were sure Bucky was cheating on you with her, there was no other way. How could she know something that sensitive? Steve couldâve been an idiot, but knew better than to spill that kind of thing, even more to someone you hated that much.
You walked back to your room, and he was there on his daily routine after a workday, getting ready to be in your bedroom the rest of the evening, with an undone tie, disheveled hair, and tired gaze.
âWhere have you been, princess?â He asked, smiling at you. You stood still, tilting your head, watching.
You could not even answer; every piece of dignity on your body was abandoned and forgotten in that warehouse.
âAre you still mad?â He chuckled on the bed; you shook your head and walked to the balcony.
âHow long have you been fucking her?â You turned around to face him.
âOh god, are you still with that fucking idea?â He was exasperated.
When you were about to shout, a knock on your door interrupted you both.
âBuck, I need to talk with you.â
Steveâs voice was on the other side of the door. You chuckled.
âWhatâs so fucking funny? Iâm gonna deal with you later.â Bucky pointed at you and walked to the door.
When he opened the door, Steve's appearance was disheveled; he looked tired, angry, and even frustrated. You walked behind them; you were on Buckyâs back with your arms crossed.
âHowâs Elsie doing? Did she endure Natâs slaps?â
Steveâs mouth was wide open. Bucky turned his head to you; his eyes were a poem.
âWhat the fuck is she talking about?â
âThatâsâthatâs the reason Iâm here⊠ElsieâSheâsâŠâ
âSheâs all over my damn business, telling everyone and their mother that apparently Iâm a fucking waste who canât provide with children to the precious James Buchanan Barnes.â
When his government name slipped your lips, his hand found your arm, softly, grounding.
âIâm a fucking idiot.â He said, surprisingly to you.
âWhat?â Both you and Steve said at the same time.
âIâI thought I could trust her, I had to stay late with her for something, we were coming back from another fucking doctor appointment. But I swear to God I never said something like thatâI just said I wish I could help you. Fuck.â
His free hand combed his hair. Steve was looking directly at you, completely avoiding his friend's direction.
You wanted to believe it. You really wanted it. But you saw all those years how your father always had his own Elsie, how your mother didnât even care anymore, and why would Bucky be different? He fought to be in the same spot as your father; he was going to follow his steps to the T.
âLetâs go.â Bucky let go of your arm and started walking with Steve.
âThe fuck are you going?â You yelled while walking behind them. âIâm going, I donât care what you have to say.
Bucky growled and continued walking while holding your hand.
As soon as you came to the warehouse, the sight was horrid. Natâs hand was crimson.
Bucky was about to talk when you walked fast enough to leave them behind. You walked your way directly to her, you squatted down in front of her, and Nat took three steps back.
âElsie, right?â You said, looking at her. She nodded.
âI know exactly why you are here, but I want to hear it from you.â
âIâIâve been screwing up your husband.â She said shamelessly, and you were sure she just wanted a reaction.
You chuckled, âYou know? I would believe you, really. If I were another mob wife, I would believe everything your pretty mouth is saying. The situation here is⊠that man there, that fucking idiot put his life on risk for years and years just to have a slight opportunity to marry me.â
You sighed and stood up.
âBut what I do know is that he is that fucking dumb to trust in an idiot who wants to fuck him and fuck his marriage.â
One of your hands gripped her face, putting her closer to you.
âSo, letâs get something straight,â you locked eyes with her, âyes, I canât give him the children he wants, but all this fucking shit you see is mine. Heâs mine, heâs been mine our whole lives, and a fucking bimbo is not changing that, are we clear?â
She nodded, and before she could say anything, you pushed her, already marked face, making her trip again. Natasha came to help you stand up.
âTake her out before I regret letting her leave, and I fucking beat the shit out of her.â
She nodded, and you walked directly to Steve.
âIf you ever hire another girl like that, Iâm gonna make sure itâs the last fucking thing you do.â
âOh, câmon. It was a one-time thing.â Bucky hit his chest, making him shush.
You walked fast, didnât even wait for Bucky.
When he was able to go back to your bedroom, you were a messâthe whole room was destroyed, the mirror in front of the bed was shattered, your hands gripped your dress with anger, and you could not stop crying.
The mafia was always proud of having an inheritance, of having heirs, and there you were, not able to do the one thing you were supposed to.
He ran and knelt in front of you, taking you by your hands and making you hug him.
âI need you to stop. Thisâthis is not who you are. You are stronger than this, than anything youâre punishing your head with.â
âWere you thinking about leaving me for her?â You said as you sobbed, your voice was almost inaudible.
âWhat the fuck are you talking about?â He said creating a distance between you just to look at you directly.
âThatâs why you told her, right?â
âOf course not. I was sensible, and being an idiot, I didnât want to look fragile in front of Natasha or Steven, andâI donât know. Iâm an idiot. It's just that.â He said fast, anxious.
âAre you still gonna love me even if I can give your children?â
âGod, that fucking stupidity of having a successor?â He said, laughing.
âDonât laugh!â You whimpered.
âSorry. Sorry, this is not funny. Itâs serious. Butâreally, I donât care. I can always take under my arm any of those kiddos there whom I hire, just like my mentor did with me. I donât fucking care about having kids. You said it there; I risked my whole life just to get a chance to marry you.â
He kissed your temple.
âI wouldnât throw my whole life just because we canât have kids, not for a fucking blonde who would leave me the first time she saw how I kill a man. I know how the rest of men are in this kind of life, but you can bet my ass that I will never be like that.â
âReally?â
He nodded, âNow, letâs get comfortable in the guestroom. I need someone to clean and fix this, and you need to learn your fucking lesson and stop being a fucking pain in my ass. Youâve been accusing me for days of nothing horrible, and I need to fuck the thought out of your mind.â
Bucky figures out you're touch-starved. It ruins both of your lives.
The first time Bucky Barnes notices it, he almost wishes he hadnât.
Not because itâs bad.
Because once he sees it, he canât stop seeing it.
It starts small.
Tiny things.
The way you linger when people hug you goodbye, like youâre trying not to let go too quickly because youâre worried theyâll notice.
The way you sit too close to Alpine when the cat climbs into your lap at the Tower, burying your face in her fur with your eyes closed like the warmth means something vital.
The way you always seem surprised when someone touches you first.
A hand on your shoulder.
A quick squeeze of your wrist.
Natasha bumping her knee against yours during movie night.
Steve pulling you into a side hug after a mission well done.
You react every single time.
Not dramatically.
Justâ
stillness.
Like your body pauses to absorb it.
Like youâre starving and trying not to look hungry.
And once Bucky notices, he starts paying attention in ways he probably shouldnât.
Because Bucky Barnes understands hunger.
He understands deprivation.
He understands what it does to a person when they go too long without softness.
Too long without gentleness.
Too long without being held like they matter.
You come to the Tower after a HYDRA clean-up operation in Bucharest.
Former intelligence analyst.
Temporary consultant, Fury says.
âTemporaryâ becomes six months faster than anyone expects.
Youâre clever enough to keep up with Tony, sarcastic enough to survive Sam, patient enough to tolerate Bruceâs nervous rambling, and somehow stubborn enough to call Natasha out on her bullshit without fear.
The team likes you immediately.
Bucky doesnât.
At first.
Mostly because youâre too observant.
You look at him carefully.
Not fearfully.
Not pityingly.
Just carefully.
Like youâre trying to understand him without taking him apart.
He hates that.
Then he starts noticing things.
You donât flinch around him.
You donât stare at the metal arm.
You donât ask questions about the Winter Soldier.
But sometimes he catches you watching him when you think he isnât looking.
Not because heâs dangerous.
Because heâs alone.
Thatâs worse somehow.
The touch thing becomes impossible to ignore after a mission in Prague.
Itâs ugly from the start.
Explosives.
Gunfire.
A narrow hallway collapsing before Clint can get civilians out.
You get trapped beneath part of a shattered support beam.
Nothing life-threatening.
Just enough to pin you awkwardly until Bucky and Sam can move it.
You laugh afterward.
Brush dust off your jeans.
Tell everyone youâre fine.
But your hands shake for almost an hour.
Bucky notices because he notices everything about you now.
Which is already a problem.
Then Natasha walks by and squeezes the back of your neck absentmindedly.
And you nearly melt.
Itâs subtle.
Most people wouldnât catch it.
But Bucky does.
Your eyes close for one second.
Your shoulders loosen.
Your breathing evens out instantly.
Relief.
Immediate and devastating.
Like your nervous system has been waiting for permission to settle.
Bucky stares.
You realize he saw.
Embarrassment flashes across your face so fast it hurts to witness.
You pull away immediately.
âIâm okay,â you say too quickly.
Bucky says nothing.
But something ugly twists in his chest afterward.
Not disgust.
Not judgment.
Something worse.
Recognition.
He starts testing theories after that.
Not intentionally.
At least thatâs what he tells himself.
Youâre sitting on the couch during one of Tonyâs terrible movie marathons, half asleep beneath a blanket while everyone argues over which âDie Hardâ movie counts as the best one.
Your feet are tucked under you.
Your head keeps drooping.
Without thinking, Bucky reaches over and brushes your hair away from your face.
Just once.
A small movement.
Barely anything.
You freeze.
Not frightened.
Just stunned.
Then slowlyâcarefullyâyou lean into his hand.
Like itâs instinct.
Like your body chose before your brain could stop it.
Jesus Christ.
Bucky pulls his hand back immediately.
You blink yourself awake, suddenly aware of what happened.
âSorry,â you mumble automatically.
Sorry.
Like you did something wrong.
The word slices straight through him.
âFor what?â he asks quietly.
You stare at the television instead of him.
âNothing.â
Bucky doesnât sleep that night.
After that, it gets worse.
For both of you.
Because now Bucky knows.
And now you know he knows.
The tension changes shape.
It becomes something alive.
Something breathing between you.
Bucky starts finding excuses to touch you.
Tiny things.
A hand at your lower back guiding you through crowded rooms.
Brushing shoulders in the kitchen.
His fingers tapping against your knee during briefings.
He tells himself itâs harmless.
Friendly.
Normal.
But he notices the way your entire body softens every single time.
And you notice that he notices.
One night you fall asleep in the common room while reading.
Bucky finds you there around two in the morning.
Curled sideways on the couch.
Blanket slipping off your shoulder.
Exhaustion written all over your face.
The Tower is quiet.
Everyone asleep.
He should leave.
Instead he kneels beside the couch and carefully pulls the blanket back over you.
Your eyes flutter open immediately.
Panic first.
Then recognition.
Then something softer.
âSorry,â you whisper groggily.
Again.
Always apologizing for existing.
Buckyâs jaw tightens.
âYou gotta stop saying that.â
Your brow furrows.
âFor what?â
âFor wanting things.â
The room goes completely still.
You look at him like he just reached into your chest and pulled something out barehanded.
Bucky realizes too late how honest that sounded.
You swallow hard.
âI donât know what you mean.â
He almost lets you get away with it.
Almost.
Instead he says quietly, âNobody touches you enough.â
Your face crumples.
Not dramatically.
Not crying.
Justâ
wrecked.
Like no one was ever supposed to notice that.
Bucky feels suddenly, horribly protective.
You look away first.
âIâm fine.â
âNo,â he says softly. âYouâre not.â
The silence afterward feels intimate in a way that terrifies both of you.
Then, carefullyâslow enough for you to pull awayâBucky rests his flesh hand over yours.
Warm.
Steady.
Gentle.
You stop breathing.
And thenâ
you turn your hand beneath his and hold on.
It ruins everything.
Because after that, neither of you can pretend anymore.
Touch becomes dangerous.
Addictive.
You start gravitating toward him unconsciously.
Sitting beside him.
Leaning against him during briefings.
Falling asleep against his shoulder during quinjet rides.
And Buckyâ
God.
Bucky becomes obsessed with taking care of you.
Not in a controlling way.
In a reverent one.
Like heâs trying to make up for every year nobody held you gently enough.
He tucks blankets around you.
Rubs your back when anxiety hits.
Lets you thread your fingers through his metal hand because you like the coolness of it against your skin.
One night after a nightmare, you end up outside his room at three in the morning.
You look mortified to be there.
âI can go,â you say immediately.
Bucky opens the door wider.
âYou can stay.â
You hesitate.
âOnly if youâre sure.â
He almost laughs at that.
Like you still donât understand heâd hand you every broken piece of himself if you asked.
That night you sleep beside him for the first time.
No sex.
No kissing.
Just sleep.
Your head against his chest.
His arm around your waist.
You fall asleep in less than five minutes.
Bucky stays awake almost all night.
Because nobody has ever trusted him with softness like this before.
And because he realizes somewhere around four in the morning that heâs completely fucked.
The team notices eventually.
Sam notices first, obviously.
âYou got heart eyes,â he tells Bucky over coffee.
âIâll kill you.â
âYou brush her hair behind her ear like sheâs in a Jane Austen movie.â
Bucky glares at him.
Sam grins wider.
âShe looks at you like you hung the moon, man.â
That shuts Bucky up.
Because that part scares him too.
You do look at him differently now.
Like heâs safe.
Like heâs home.
And Bucky has spent almost a century being neither of those things.
The first kiss happens accidentally.
Which is a lie.
Nothing between you has been accidental for months.
It happens in the kitchen.
Late.
Rain against the windows.
Youâre wearing one of his henleys because you left your clothes in the wash downstairs.
Bucky is trying very hard not to think about that.
Youâre standing close enough that your socked feet brush his.
Talking softly about nothing important.
Then your hand lands absently on his chest.
Just resting there.
Warm.
Trusting.
Bucky looks down at it.
Then at you.
And something in his expression must change because your breathing catches.
âBuck,â you whisper.
He gives you every chance to walk away.
You donât.
You step closer instead.
His metal hand settles carefully against your waist like heâs afraid too much pressure will break you.
You tilt your face up.
And Bucky kisses you like a man dying of thirst.
Slow at first.
Disbelieving.
Then deeper when you make that tiny sound against his mouth.
The kind of sound that tells him this means something.
Your fingers clutch his shirt.
His heartbeat goes completely feral.
When he finally pulls back, your forehead rests against his.
Neither of you speaks.
You donât need to.
The devastation is already complete.
Loving Bucky Barnes is not easy.
Loving you isnât easy either.
Youâre both too damaged in complementary ways.
Bucky gives touch like itâs survival.
You receive it like oxygen.
Sometimes that becomes dangerous.
There are nights he holds you so tightly it borders on desperation.
Nights you cling to him like heâs the only solid thing in the universe.
You become each otherâs comfort too quickly.
Too deeply.
But somehowâ
somehowâit works.
Because neither of you asks the other to be healed first.
Months later, after a mission gone sideways in Madripoor, Bucky comes back bloodied and furious and shaking with leftover violence.
You find him alone in the Tower gym at two in the morning.
His metal fist has cracked one of the punching bags clean open.
âBuck.â
âDonât,â he says immediately.
Like he canât bear for you to see him like this.
You walk toward him anyway.
âYouâre hurt.â
âIâm fine.â
You stop directly in front of him.
His breathing is ragged.
Eyes wild around the edges.
Still halfway in combat mode.
Everyone else in the world might fear him like this.
You donât.
Very gently, you take his flesh hand first.
Then the metal one.
âYou came back,â you say softly.
The anger breaks instantly.
Justâ
gone.
Bucky folds around the grief of it with a broken sound in his throat.
And suddenly heâs holding you so hard it almost hurts.
His face buried against your neck.
You stroke your fingers through his hair.
âItâs okay,â you whisper.
No one has ever held the Winter Soldier through his terror before.
No one except you.
Bucky thinks, not for the first time, that this is probably what love actually is.
Not grand gestures.
Not fireworks.
This.
Being known completely.
And held anyway.
The proposal happens almost a year later.
Quiet.
Private.
Perfect.
Youâre half asleep in bed, tangled together beneath soft sheets while rain taps against the windows.
Buckyâs tracing lazy patterns along your spine.
Your fingers are linked with his metal hand.
Comfortable silence.
Home.
Then suddenly he says, very seriously, âMarry me.â
You blink up at him.
âWhat?â
His expression turns nervous immediately, which is honestly absurd considering this is James Buchanan Barnes.
âIâm serious.â
âYouâre asking me while I look like this?â
âYou look beautiful.â
âIâm wearing an old Stark Industries shirt and one sock.â
âYou still look beautiful.â
You laugh softly.
Then realize he isnât joking.
Your chest aches instantly.
âBuckyâŠâ
He brings your joined hands to his mouth.
Kisses your knuckles carefully.
âI spent a real long time thinking I was too broken for this,â he says quietly. âThen you walked in and started looking at me like I was worth something.â
Tears sting your eyes immediately.
âYou are worth something.â
His thumb brushes beneath your eye.
âAnd you deserve to be loved out loud. Deserve to be held whenever you need it. Deserve somebody who notices.â
Your breath shakes.
âBuckââ
âI notice everything about you.â
That does it.
That destroys you completely.
Because he does.
He notices when youâre overwhelmed before you say anything.
Notices when you need quiet.
Notices when youâre touch-starved and crawling out of your own skin from loneliness.
Notices when you need his hand on the back of your neck to ground you again.
He notices.
And he never makes you feel ashamed for needing.
âYes,â you whisper, crying now. âYes, of course Iâll marry you.â
Bucky exhales like heâs been holding that breath for decades.
Then he kisses you.
Slow.
Tender.
Certain.
The kind of kiss that feels like being chosen.
And afterward you curl into him instinctively, your face tucked against his chest while his arms close around you immediately.
Automatic now.
Natural as breathing.
Bucky presses his mouth against your hair and thinks, with something dangerously close to peace, that maybe ruin isnât always a bad thing.
Because figuring out you were touch-starved ruined both of your lives.
you let out a small shiver, when you step out of your work building.
tightening your jacket more around you, you start to make your long walk home.
sometimes you wish you had a car, so you don't have to do that much walking, but on the other hand, you're glad that you walk a lot since it helps your brain relax after a long day at work.
plus there's nothing better than reconnecting with nature.
just as you're a couple blocks away from your apartment you hear a whine. you stop in your tracks, wondering what that small, weak sound was.
another whine, similar to the first one has you looking down a dark alley.
you bite your lip nervously, knowing that you, a young woman shouldnât go down an alley at this time of night but you canât help the way your heart clenches at hearing those sounds.
you close your eyes, wondering if this will be the worst idea youâve ever done and you might get abducted but before you can psych yourself out of it you hear another whine, louder than the last. it sounds like a⊠puppy.
damn it, if it's a puppy then you definitely canât bring yourself to stand here and do nothing. especially with how it's so cold outside and it's raining. the poor puppy, is probably scared or even worse, injured.
you'll never forgive yourself if you walk past this alley, thinking that this whole thing was a trap for you or another person, but instead there was in fact a puppy sitting there, waiting for someone to come and help them.
you huff, throwing your hands in the air. you must look ridiculous to all the cars going by but you know what, what's the worse that could happen? i mean you could end up abducted or... dead but at least you died with the intention of helping a helpless animal.
you take a deep breath, wrapping your coat tighter around you, and then start walking down the alley to see if you can find whatever is sounding so hurt.
little do you know, something or someone has been watching you this whole time.
bucky sighs, running a hand down his face. today has been a long day and all he wants to do is get home, maybe call one of his regular women that will drop anything just to please him and go to sleep.
the soft sound of the rain hitting the roof of the car calms him as he looks out the window. his eyes squint when he catches a glimpse of a woman standing at the opening of an alley far up ahead.
he canât exactly see her face until he gets closer but when he does, he sees that sheâs utterly stunning.
probably the most beautiful woman heâs ever seen in his entire life. even with her face slightly wet by the rain.
âstop the car.â
âsir?â the driver asks, looking back and seeing that bucky near enough has his head pushed up against the window.
bucky gives his driver a glance, raising his eyebrow slowly.
âyes sir.â the driver says, practically folding without bucky even having to repeat himself.
the driver quickly parks at the other side of the street to which youâre on. giving bucky a perfect view of you.
you snuggled up in your coat, standing smack in the middle of the side walk, with your eyes closed and face titled towards the dark, cloudy sky. itâs like youâre talking to yourself in your head.
what on earth are you doing?
and why is he so entranced by you that he asked his driver to suddenly park on the side of the road, when heâs meant to be on his way home after a long night of handling business?
he narrows his eyes at you, watching the way the cold air trickles out of your mouth when you huff and throw your arms in the air, and the way your mouth moves softly like youâre trying to talk yourself into doing something.
âum sir, are we waiting for someone orââ
âshh.â bucky snaps, seeing you take a deep breath, wrap your coat tighter around your body, and walk into the random, pitch black alley.
what the fuck? bucky says in his head. what is genuinely wrong with this strange but beautiful woman. without thinking, bucky opens the car door and steps out.
âsirââ
âjust wait here till i get back.â bucky grunts, fixing his cuff links before slamming the car door and following you.
he doesnât know who you are, or why youâre deciding to walk into an alley by yourself at near enough ten in the evening. but he sure is about to find out.
bucky watches you carefully.
keeping a safe distance behind you so you don't notice that there's someone in this alley with you.
he wants to know what you're doing, but for the life of him he can't figure it out.
all he's seen you do is walk slowly, your hand pressed against the rough brick wall, to help you lead your way through the dark alley. he's seen you trip over your heels a couple times, and he's also had to stop himself from lunging out to catch you.
he doesn't know why he has this sudden urge to not only follow you but to make sure that you don't get yourself hurt.
he doesn't even know you... yet.
his thoughts are interrupted when he hears a small yap. it's so small that if he wouldn't of had enhanced hearing he probably wouldnât of heard it.
âwhere are you hiding?â you coo.
buckyâs brows furrow in confusion as he keeps his slow stride behind you, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his slacks.
is this the reason why you decided to walk down here?
because you heard the noise of an animal?
do you not know how easy it is for attractive women like you to get ambushed in situations like this.
bucky shakes his head in disbelief.
because if you so easily caught his eye, imagine how many eyes youâve caught from men that walk past you on the street daily.
too bad that thatâs not going to happen anymore.
youâre his. no one else is having you.
buckyâs possessive thoughts get interrupted yet again when you let out a yelp, jumping back.
bucky canât help himself but step a bit closer to see what scared his girl and if he needs to intervene.
his concerns cease to a stop when you suddenly kneel down and stand up cradling a small, dirty and damp puppy.
you donât think you couldâve ever forgiven yourself if you ended up stepping onto that puppy, even though it wouldâve been accidentally.
you didnât think that it wouldâve ran across your heels, and because youâre basically covered in darkness, you never even saw it coming.
you thought it was just a rat or something.
it was only when you kneeled down that you was able to catch a glimpse of its big brown eyes and its wet nose, and then you knew you found it.
and youâre so happy you did.
âoh look at you, youâre filthy.â you whisper to the small puppy in your arms.
âhow can someone be so cruel to just leave you here.â tears start to cloud your vision, at the thought of someone dumping this poor, helpless animal in an alley to die.
you donât get how some people can be so mean.
you shrug your coat off, wrapping the material around the puppyâs small frame. not even caring about the harsh chill that comes to your arms.
you stand up with it bundled in your arms and start to make your walk back through the alley.
you keep your head down, even once youâve emerged from the narrow alley. your eyes focused on the precious bundle in your arms and not even noticing the figure that is walking straight towards you.
you gasp when you bump into someoneâs chest, and you gasp again when you feel the warmth of a palm settling on your arm to stop you from toppling over.
âoh iâm so sorry.â you apologise, sidestepping the tall man and not even giving him a second glance.
your priority is getting home and calling the nearest vet immediately.
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Summary: Bucky is supportive even if it isn't his this
Here's the prompt list if you want to join
Sam and Bucky were seated in a diner of a small airport looking out the large bay window and exchanging small talk over burgers that were surprisingly good. They were waiting, killing time.
âSo, what is this? Some sort of living LA vida loca?â Sam asked in reference to you, who was nowhere to be seen.
Bucky shook his head, âbucket list more like. I'm just trying to be a supportive partner. You're the supportive partner's support person.â
Sam chuckled. âWhat, you don't want to go sky diving?â
Bucky shook his head with a grin. âI've only got one big fall in me and I met that quota,â he said before taking a drink of coffee.
âMan that's wrong.â
Bucky shrugged. He wouldn't bring it up in his therapy.
After a few minutes Bucky glanced at his watch. âWe should probably head outside.â After a slight back and forth about the bill, the pair headed outside to wait.
15 minutes later and you were an overstimulated heap on the ground but you had had the time of your life. âThat was AMAZING! I can't wait to do it again!â
Bucky laughed and helped you up, âwhy don't you scratch off a couple other things off your list first instead?â Bucky would never outright say it but you skydiving scared him. Perhaps it was his own trauma. Perhaps. He would support you however he could nonetheless. If you really wanted to go skydiving again, he'd wait for you on the ground again.
Hopefully next time you'd want to do something that he could do with you. At least you still couldn't go over Niagara Falls in a barrel these days. At least he didn't think you could.
Pairing: Ex-Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Female Reader
Summary: You find a familiar face in your kitchen.
Word Count: 300
Playlist Prompt: Hey! Baby - Bruce Channel / âI'm gonna make her mine, all mineâ
Warnings: Past relationship, tension, slight angst, Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Day 5 of the June Jukebox Scribbles Challenge by @societynsoelsscribbles . Let's do a small intro for ex!Steve.â€ïž Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications as I no longer do taglists. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
You set your purse down when you heard music drifting from the kitchen, mentally bracing yourself.Â
Hey, hey baby
I want to know if youâll be my girl
âI was your girl,â you muttered.
Your heart raced as you went to the doorway, watching as Steve Rogers stood at the stove in jeans and a tank top. From the side profile you saw that his hair had grown longer. He sported a beard now, too.Â
Even on the run, he managed to look like a vision.Â
When I saw you walking down the street
I said thatâs a kind of girl Iâd like to meet
Sheâs so pretty, Lord, she's fine
Iâm gonna make her mine, all mine
Your throat tightened when the scent hit you, something nostalgic washing over you. He was cooking your favorite meal. The last time he made that was right before your relationship ended, and now he was in your kitchen making it again.Â
Like he still had the right.Â
âYou gonna say anything, or are you just gonna stare?â he asked, his eyes soft when he snuck a glance at you.Â
You felt a crack in your heart, enough that it felt like you were bleeding.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â you asked in return, proud that your voice remained steady.Â
He adjusted the burner before facing you. âCanât check on my best girl?â
A scoff escaped before you could stop yourself. âNot your girl anymore,â you reminded him, the words tinged with bitterness. Â
His jaw clenched and you saw the effort it took for him not to shatter the radio when he turned it down. âIâm staying the night.â
âYouâre sleeping on the couch,â you said, too tired to argue.Â
He was not sleeping in your bed.Â
Even if you still wanted him.Â
Wonder if he'll stay on the couch. Love and thanks for reading. â€ïž
When a night out with the girls gets chaotic, you have to decide⊠Walk home, or ask your (hot) stubborn coworker for a ride.
Warnings: fluff, suggested smut?, mature themes, alcohol consumption. MINORS DNI
It wasnât often that you let loose. With catastrophic dangers appearing almost every day, you and the rest of the team were often stuck.. defending the world?
You werenât one to call yourself a hero per se, but lately the jobs you were taking on did leave you with more pride in your chest than normal.
Working alongside the âNew Avengersâ wasnât what you had planned in your 10-year career goal, but it did come with enough financial stability for a drink or two. And hey, isnât that was really matters?
Tilting your head back to down the shot your friend Melissa ordered, you sighed at the familiar sting of tequila in your chest. Slamming your glass back on the table, your hand went up in salute as you muttered something along the lines of âgotta peeâ.
Stumbling out of the booth, you quickly realized your coordination wasnât as stable as you thought, your toes catching on bar stools and hands going out to keep your balance. You almost stomped your foot in frustration when you saw the line of at least 7 girls waiting drunkenly in line in front of the womenâs room.
Slumping into the wall, you pulled out your phone to pass the time. With one eye closed, you typed in your password before checking for any missed notifications. Awesome. None.
Letting out a chuckle, you went to slide it back into your pocket. Right as your hand went behind your back, it started buzzing incessantly.
Not even able to read the screen, you blindly swiped to answer. âIs my table ready?â. You couldnât help but let out a small chuckle at your own joke, digging the toe of your boot into a crack in the concrete flooring.
The small smile you had on your face was quickly wiped away when you heard the strict voice on the other end of the call. âWhere are you?â
Your body went rigid as you realized what was happening. You, drunk and alone, chatting it up with not only your teammate, but Bucky Barnes out of all of them. You canât remember a single time youâd talked to him on the phone. Most of your communication consisted of âKâ over text message concerning work duties.
âUmmm the bar. Where are you?â
You let out a huff when the girl behind you bumped into your shoulder, the line moving up a pace in front of you.
âThe tower. Did you need something?â
You unknowingly scrunched your face into a displeased one. What? He called you. You decided to speak that part out loud.
âYou called me?â
You immediately felt annoyed at his tone, his voice carrying on about how you called him 25 minutes ago or something. It was probably just a ploy to gather something to report to Val about your âunprofessionalismâ or whatever he wanted to call it.
Just as you went to respond, Melissa spawned in front of you. âHey! Weâre gonna head out! Are you still good to walk, or do you need a ride?â
Your friends were no strangers to what you did for a living, that alone giving them the confidence to let you walk back to the tower after a night out.
Before you could respond, the voice in your ear cut off your thoughts.
âWalk? Hang on. Just stay there. Iâm coming to get you.â
You went to argue about not needing his assistance but were cut off by the beep of the call ending.
Rolling your eyes, you dropped the phone and realized Melissa was still waiting for your answer.
âI guess I have a ride..â
Back at the booth, you sipped on your last beer as you waited for Bucky. Even thinking that felt strange.
Bucky wasnât your best friend. You preformed well on missions together, but other than that you didnât really have a close relationship. He knew most of the âNew Avengersâ long before he met you, and it often felt like you were the odd one out.
He wasnât mean, just guarded. Youâd catch him giving you a soft look before he realized and schooled his face back into one of seriousness. He recently had started checking on you after rough missions, his hand tapping at your open door. Youâd even awoken to breakfast on your nightstand on days you didnât feel like socializing, most definitely brought by him. That was what good teammates did though, right?
A few weeks ago, you had accidentally fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder. The next day when you tried to have a casual conversation, he tensed up so hard you thought he was about to poof into thin air before he scurried back to his room. You figured he was just trying to be polite.
Your attention is snapped back to reality when you hear someone clearing their throat. Turning your gaze in that direction, your eyes fall upon Bucky. Six foot four, leather jacket with his arms crossed, Bucky. You donât know why a blush takes over your face at the sight of him.
âReady to go?â
He leans his side into the wall in front of the booth, foot crossed lazily over the other as he watches you. You almost start trembling under his hard stare, dumping your things in your purse before slinging it over your shoulder.
âReady as ever sarge.â
You had given him the nickname early on, and continued to use it because of the frown heâd grow every time.
Following him out to the sidewalk, you shiver at the chill in the air. You glance up and down the street for his car, but stop short when your eyes fall on⊠not his car⊠his motorcycle.
âCome on, doll. âS freezinâ out here.â
You look at him with wide eyes.
âBucky. If I get on that bike right now Iâm a goner. Iâm too drunk to coordinate myself on that thing.â
You see a crease form on his cheek at your words, his hands already starting the bike and pulling out his gloves.
âThatâs why youâre sitting in front, doll.â
You almost gape at his words, watching as he (attractively) kicks his leg over and sits down towards the back of the seat.
Deciding you werenât going to back down from a challenge, you walk over to the side of the bike. Grabbing onto his metal forearm for support, you throw one leg over and plop down right in front of him.
Turning back to look at him, you canât help the obvious question that tumbles past your lips. âNo helmets?â
A frown takes over his face.
âYeah, sorry about that doll. I rushed over here and forgot to grab âem. That okay?â
You pretended to think it over before turning back forwards and shrugging. âWouldnât be the first time.â
Buckyâs body relaxed behind you before his arms encaged your torso to grab onto the handles. A warmth filled your body at his close proximity, and the purr of the engine on your sensitive parts wasnât helping.
Before you could say anything else, he took off.
One thing about being drunk is your eyes start reacting to everything. Something slightly sad happens, theyâre crying. Smoke fills the air, theyâre dry and itchy. Cold air hitting them, theyâre watering and impossible to keep open. Thatâs what was happening now.
You blinked as fast as you could to adjust your eyes, but it wasnât helping. Feeling Bucky scoot closer to your back, you came up with an idea.
Turning your head, you realized his head was above yours to the side, granting you the perfect place to hide your face in the crook of his neck.
Deciding to just act without speaking, you slowly turned your head and tucked yourself into his neck. You felt him tense for a second before he relaxed again. You could almost swear you felt his arms squeeze around you a little tighter.
You felt the bike roll to a stop, the red glare from the traffic light burning through your eyelids. Before you could move, you felt Buckyâs hand fall onto your thigh and rub it soothingly. His head dipped closer to your ear before he practically whispered, âYou okay, doll?â
You just nodded against him, the hair at your crown catching in the scruff on his chin. His gloved hand came up to tame it down, hand rubbing over your head soothingly.
Is this a dream?
The green of the light shining through your lids alerted you to the take-off before it happened.
At the next red light, you stayed in the same position, this time Buckyâs hands coming up to rub heat into your shivering arms.
At the next one, you were so close to sleep you donât remember anything besides the stop and start of the bike.
Finally coming back to, you realized you were rolling into the towerâs parking garage. A weight dropped in your stomach. You werenât ready for this to end.
Almost as if he felt the same, Bucky pulled in much slower than youâd seen him do it in the past. You let out a sigh when the bike stopped completely, Bucky cutting the engine and dropping the kick-stand. His hands found purchase on your lap again as he teasingly squeezed your thighs. âAlright doll, weâre home.â
You let out a breathy chuckle and sat upright. âI didnât realize motorcycles were such a good place to fall asleep.â You words were slightly muffled from the alcohol and the effort to lift yourself off of the bike.
Buckyâs hands landed around your waist as he helped you off, his hands remaining outstretched as he waited for you to gain your balance.
You smoothed out your hair as he came to a stand behind you, his boot scuffling on the concrete as he pushed off of the ground.
Finally turning to face him, you let a tired smile grace your features as you watched him adjust.
Deciding he was good to go, he stood up straight and reached an arm out for you. âAlright, sleepy. Letâs get you in that elevator.â
Deciding to lean into your instincts, you glanced at Bucky out of the corner of your eye. He was leaned on the handrail of the elevator, eyes watching the numbers flash on the tiny screen above the door. You still had 20 floors left before you were at your level.
You donât know whatâs gotten into you, but now that youâve had Buckyâs hands on you, you want more.
Shuffling meekly over to him, you let your forehead fall to his chest, a tired sigh leaving you.
His arms raise and freeze for a split second before relaxing and coming down to wrap around you. You let out a hum at his warmth and turn your head to rest your cheek on his chest instead.
âI thought you didnât like me.â came past your lips, muffled by his shirt against your face.
Bucky let out a sigh of defeat before he pulled you closer, his head coming to rest on top of your head.
âIâve been trying to pretend I didnât for the last six months, doll.â
A slow smile followed by a flush attacked your face. Glad he couldnât see it from this angle, you just sighed and whispered a meek âI think I have too.â
He chuckled lowly before letting his lips fall on the crown of your head, breathing in deeply through his nose.
If you are taking requests can we get a fic of Bucky thinking heâs ready for the toddler stage because heâs a super soldier but his daughter is a break for freedom kid who runs like the law is after her whenever the opportunity arises. Bucky turns around for a second and sheâs running like sheâs trying for the olympics, he lets go of her hand and sheâs chasing a duck under a hedge having the time of her life while he tries to understand how a child can escape him.
Bucky Barnes has lived about 8 lifetimes and survived hell nobody can comprehend. So when you hand him your daughterâs tiny jacket and say, âYouâve got park duty today,â he just smirks like this is the easiest mission heâs ever been assigned.
âItâs a toddler,â he says, confident, already crouching to help her shove her arms into the sleeves. âHow hard can it be?â
You donât even bother answering. You just kiss your little girlâs head, then his cheek, and walk away with a suspicious sort of calm that shouldâve tipped him off.
Because Bucky is prepared.
Heâs done research. Heâs read articles. Heâs even asked Sam, who laughed so hard he had to sit down before offering any advice. Bucky doesnât get it. He has enhanced strength, enhanced speed, enhanced reflexes. There is quite literally no version of this where he loses control of the situation.
Your daughterâsmall, sweet, curls bouncing, shoes that light up when she stompsâgrins up at him like she knows something he doesnât.
âReady, Sergeant?â he teases, holding out his hand.
She takes it. For exactly twelve seconds.
The park is calm when they get there. Kids on swings, parents on benches, a couple dogs trotting around. Bucky does a quick scan out of habit, cataloging exits, possible hazards, anything that might pose a threat. Everything is under control.
He looks down at her. Sheâs staring at a group of ducks by the pond, eyes wide, completely transfixed.
âThose are ducks,â he explains, because apparently thatâs what parenting is. âTheyâreââ
She lets go of his hand.
Itâs subtle at first. Just a shift. A tiny tug of her fingers slipping free.
Bucky barely registers it.
And then sheâs gone.
Not gone goneâbut running.
Running like her life depends on it. Like sheâs been training for this exact moment since birth. Her little legs pump with terrifying efficiency, light-up shoes flashing like warning signals as she makes a beeline straight for the ducks.
âHeyâhey!â Bucky calls, startled for half a second before instinct kicks in and he's moving fast.
He's faster than any normal person is; however, your daughter is faster.
Or maybe not technically faster, but unpredictable. Chaotic. She zigzags with absolutely no pattern, giggling as the ducks scatter, her delighted squeal carrying across the park. Bucky adjusts his path, calculating angles, intercept pointsâ
She ducks under a hedge.
A hedge.
Bucky skids to a stop at the edge of it, staring down like it personally offended him.
âHowââ he mutters, blinking.
There is no logical reason for this. The opening is small. The hedge is dense. He is a super soldier.
And yet his toddler has just disappeared into shrubbery like a fugitive.
On the other side, her laughter rings out, bright and unbothered.
âQuack quack!â she yells, chasing after a very confused duck.
Bucky exhales slowly through his nose, crouching down to peer through the leaves. He can see flashes of her jacket, those blinking shoes, the absolute chaos of her tiny form barreling forward without a single ounce of hesitation.
âDoll,â he calls, attempting calm. âWe do not chase wildlife.â
She shrieks in delight.
Not listening.
Of course sheâs not listening.
Why would she listen?
Bucky drags a hand down his face, then stands, quickly moving around the hedge to cut her off on the other side. This time, heâs ready. He positions himself perfectly, steps wide, arms outâ
She runs straight past him.
Not even a pause. Not even a glance. Just pure, unfiltered toddler rebellion as she darts in a completely new direction, laughter bubbling out of her like this is the greatest game ever invented.
Bucky turns, stunned.
âWhat the hell,â he breathes, before taking off after her again.
It becomes a cycle.
She runs.
He catches up.
She slips away.
He recalculates.
At one point, he manages to grab the back of her jacketâvictory, finallyâbut she twists in his grip with the determination of someone who has never known defeat, dropping to the ground and wriggling free like a tiny, giggling escape artist.
âAbsolutely not,â he says, half exasperated, half impressed.
Sheâs already back on her feet, sprinting toward a new targetâthis time a squirrel.
Bucky stares at the sky for a brief moment, like heâs asking for strength.
âThis is not a fair fight,â he mutters.
Because it isnât.
Not when she has no fear, no strategy, no concern for consequences. Just joy. Just curiosity. Just the overwhelming need to run and explore and chase anything that moves.
Eventuallyâeventuallyâhe catches her properly.
It takes a well-timed scoop, a quick lift that brings her up into his arms mid-run. She squeals, kicking her legs, still laughing like she hasnât just put him through tactical warfare.
âGot you,â he pants, holding her close.
She beams at him, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.
âAgain!â she demands, like this was all just a game he willingly participated in.
Bucky stares at her.
Then he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he presses a kiss to her hair.
âYou are unbelievable,â he tells her, voice soft despite the exhaustion creeping in. âI fought trained assassins with less trouble than you.â
She pats his cheek, entirely unconcerned.
âDada slow,â she says, with absolute confidence.
Bucky barks out a laugh, loud and helpless, pulling her closer as he starts the walk back home.
âYeah,â he admits, adjusting her on his hip. âGuess I am.â
Wthen she leans her head against his shoulder, finally still for more than three seconds, he canât help the small, fond smile that tugs at his lips.
