'Til The End Of The Line, Pal.

kay • 23 • they/she • queer • was peachykeenpeter • ko-fi

[preciousbarnes]

.･*:｡.･*: 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘦 - kay. twenty-three. they/she. queer. scorpio. college student. amateur writer.

.･*:｡.･*: 𝘥𝘯𝘪 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢 - minors, 18+ only pls. blank blogs. homophobic, transphobic, misogynistic, sexist, ableist, racist, ageist, xenophobic people, or just blatantly hateful people in general.

.･*:｡.･*: 𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 - masterlist. who I write for. ao3. fic recommendation tag.

© all rights reserved to preciousbarnes • last updated 04/12/23

[espinosaurusrexex]

Imagine celebrating Christmas with Bucky

･ﾟ✫* 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ｡✭･ﾟ

It's your first Christmas together in your shared apartment, and you are super excited because you love the holiday

Bucky doesn't really show it just yet, but he loves how excited you get about all the decorations

"OH. MY. GOD. Bucky, look at this reindeer! Can you believe it?! They have a real reindeer!"

"I bet the reindeer can't believe it either."

"Shut up."

And when you passed the tree that ended up being brought into your home, he made sure to draw your attention to it because it was so tall, you'd definitely need help decorating the top branches

It ended up being too big, and you had to cut off some of it to make it fit, but Bucky wouldn't have changed it for the word if it meant he'd see that smile of yours when you saw it all over again

He lifts you onto his shoulder to decorate the tree, and he might even distract you a bit because he really enjoys having his head between your thighs (ohhh naughty Bucky) and drawing out the time you need to hang the ornaments seemed like the perfect plan

The evenings of the days leading up to Christmas, you have Bucky catching up with all the classic Christmas movies

And even though they are not his favorite (movies in general) he enjoys being snuggled up with you under a pile of fuzzy blankets

You even baked cookies with him and had to find out that Bucky is quite the skilled baker (though you still decorate them better)

At one point, you tried to get him to go ice skating with you, but that's where he drew the line

So it's just all really cozy and enjoying the season inside, but you're not complaining

Still, when the first snowflakes fall, you drag him out to the street before enjoying his warmth in your shared bed again

just imagine the soft mornings embraced in each other while the cold is rioting outside the windows, the room has gotten cooler but Bucky is so warm 😍☺️

"Good morning, beautiful. What Christmas activity do you have planned for today?"

"Just staying in your arms all day."

"That sounds perfect."

By this time, Bucky would actually get excited about everything you want to do with him for the holidays

And while he wouldn't admit it, he came to love the season more and more ever since he got to spend it with you 💕

You initially agreed to not get each other presents because the move had been expensive enough and "having you in my life is the best gift I could ever ask for" but you failed to keep that promise

So when Christmas morning came and you and Bucky are having breakfast in matching plaid pajamas, you get a little box from beneath the table and watch as his eyes widen in awe

"I thought-"

"I know, but... I saw this, and it made me think of you."

Bucky had never really gotten a Christmas present before. Back in the 40s his family barely had any money to eat every day, so presents were a rare occasion

Getting a present from you is both unexpected and incredibly meaningful to him

He opens the little box and laughs when he pulls out a golden maneki-neko ornament

"Like the one from the restaurant-"

"We first met. Yeah, I remember."

He moves around the table and kisses you

"It's the best gift ever. Thank you so much, doll."

You walk up to the tree and watch him hang the ornament before he pulls you into his side and admires the beautiful decorations

"I'm so glad you're here with me."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

a/n: Merry Christmas to everyone that celebrates, and happy couple days off for everyone that doesn't (or not, I don’t know where you are in the world 💞)! This year has been so amazing - I had so much fun interacting with you and really starting to write again. Thank you for liking and reposting and commenting and just being your awesome selves. You are amazing, and I appreciate you so much! I hope the next year has just as much in store for us as this one did. I'm not sure if I'll have time to post next week, but if I don't, I'll be seeing you next year with more fun imagines. I have some projects coming that I am very excited about. Until then, stay obsessed! Much love, Meg❁

taglist: @4buckyb @almosttoopizza @royalwritersoftheuniverses @circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes

[preciousbarnes]

“I bet the reindeer can’t believe it either.”

That KILLED me lmao I could just imagine him saying that so clearly in my mind, looking so amused. This was so cute, I loved it!!

[stelacole]

like or reblog if using or saving.

[lunarbuck]

slaughter

Pairing: dark!Winter Soldier x f!reader (any race)

WC: 2.1k

Summary: The Soldier has been watching you for some time now, but tonight he will finally act on his urges.

Warnings: dark!!, stalking, knife play, pet names [little lamb], smut [p in v], oral [m receiving], degredation

part 2: contagious | full masterlist | bucky masterlist

When you first noticed the feeling, you'd thought you were crazy—the feeling of eyes on you, of someone following you. But when you looked around, you saw nothing. 

It used to be easy to convince yourself that no one was there, but you saw him yesterday. 

You saw him slip around the corner as you whipped around. He didn't move quite fast enough for you not to catch a glimpse of his dark eyes and built frame. 

Tonight, you sit on your bed and stare at the window, unable to tear your eyes away from it. You're sure you saw him; you'd recognize those eyes anywhere. 

But the longer you sit, the heavier your eyelids get. It isn't long before you're asleep, unaware of the man climbing up the side of the building and sliding your window open. 

You don't hear as he slips through the window frame and steps into your room. 

The Soldier stands beside your bed and watches your chest rise and fall with every breath.

He has never seen anything like you, anyone so beautiful. 

It didn't start innocently, but he wouldn't have it any other way. He saw you walking down the street and couldn't help himself. 

Your shy nature, the way you cowered out of the way of oncoming people. It called to him. 

You shift in your sleep, and he runs his metal fingers down your bare arm. You'd fallen asleep in a pair of short flowy sleep shorts and a tank top. 

"Hm, little lamb, you've dressed so perfectly for me tonight." 

You stir at the sound of his words. Your eyes flutter open, and you freeze under his cold gaze. 

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He leans over you, dropping his head down beside you. 

You try to shift away, but his hand shoots out and grips your chin. 

"Hello, my lamb," he whispers, holding your face close. 

"Who- who- who are you," you ask, voice shaking. 

The Soldier shakes his head, not finding it necessary to answer your question. 

Instead, he dips his head and breathes you in, taking in your scent, your softness. Somehow, even though he is right beside you, finally being able to smell you makes you more real to him.

"Please, I'll do anything," you shudder, "please don't hurt me." The Soldier returns his gaze to you and smirks. 

"My poor little lamb." The Soldier stands at his full height, towering over you. "All I want to do is hurt you."

You don't dare take your eyes off him as his hand snaps to his belt. When his hand comes back into view, you see the glint of a blade practically glowing in the moonlight.

You can't help the whimper that escapes your lips at the sight of it. The Soldier twirls it through his fingers with an elegance that, for some reason, doesn't surprise you.

It's hard not to imagine what he's going to do to you with the blade, if he'll make it quick or if he'll draw it out. Judging by the deadly look on his face, you think it'll be the latter.

He runs the knife down your cheek, the sharp point grazing your skin as it glides. 

"I want to ruin you, to paint you with the darkness that flows through my veins. My sacrificial lamb, ready for the slaughter."

You shiver under his gaze; your heart races. 

"P-please," you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for. 

"You're pathetic," he whispers. "My pathetic little lamb."

He drops his head and runs his nose along your neck. The hand gripping the knife stays by your face, a reminder of the danger the man above you could commit. 

His other hand grips your waist before slipping down to your pussy. 

You jolt at the feeling of him touching you, but the man's grip on you keeps you from knicking yourself on the blade.

He lets his fingers graze over the fabric covering you, ghosting touches that send electricity up your spine. 

You know it's fucked up, oh my god, so fucked up, but you crave more. You want him to touch you, to really touch you.

And he knows.

"You're so fucking needy," he taunts, not giving in to your wishes.

Your body thrums with energy, pulses under his touch, and he knows how much you crave him.

He's only been in your room for a few moments, yet here you are, already wrapped around his finger.

"I knew you'd be a good little lamb for me the moment I laid eyes on you," he chuckles, giving you a little more pressure against your clit. "I saw you, and I knew."

You feel yourself getting wetter at his words. It's like he bore into your head and discovered all your deepest fantasies.

"I knew I'd be able to get you on your knees, ready to please me. Are you gonna prove me right?" He asks, pressing the palm of his hand against your clit.

You arch into him, feeling the blade's sharp edge against your cheek.

"Answer me," he commands.

"Y-yes," you nod, not caring about the possibility of cutting your cheek on his knife.

"Good girl." The Soldier stands and removes the knife from your face, but he doesn't put it away. 

His metal arm reaches out and grips you by your hair, tugging you up and off the bed and onto the floor. 

You land on your knees in front of him, staring up at the mountain of a man.

His gaze is deadly as he unbuckles his belt with just one hand. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock bobbing out of his pants when he finally opens them. 

The Soldier's metal fingers lace through your hair as he guides your lips to his cock.

"Show me how good you can be," he grunts as your breath ghosts over him.

You nod as best you can with his fingers in your hair and lick up his shaft to his tip.

It's a challenge fitting him in your mouth, but the sound he makes as your wet tongue slides over him makes you try even harder.

"Fuck, you feel so good, little lamb. Just like I knew you would." You lose yourself in the action of pleasing him; you don't care how messy you're being or what you look like. All you care about is making him feel good.

He presses you further down on his cock, and you sputter around it. The Soldier's hips stutter and heat licks in your belly at the thought that you make him lose control.

You don't notice you're pressing your thighs together until he scolds you for it. 

"I'll fuck you when you've proven to me that you're worthy of it," he grunts, pressing you down on his cock until your nose hits his pelvis. 

He roughly pushes you off his dick, and you suck in a few deep breaths, spit dripping off your chin. 

"Come here and clean up your fucking mess," the Soldier commands. 

You move to stand, but he shakes his head; you know what he wants. 

After another breath, you get on your hands and knees and crawl back toward him. 

"What a good little lamb," the Soldier whispers as you begin to clean the spit off his cock with your tongue.

You stare up at him, loving the way his brow furrows in concentration while you clean him. You love how his fingers tighten in your hair, gripping and pulling, making your scalp ache. 

He pulls you off of him with a pop, and it's as if he can read your mind. 

"You want me to fuck you?" He asks, fake sympathy coating his voice. 

"Please," you reply, voice hoarse. Your clit is pulsing with need, and you find yourself pressing your thighs together again to relieve the pressure. 

"Hm, I like when you're begging." The man tightens his grip on your hair as he nods, watching saliva drip down your chin. He tugs you onto the bed, releasing you for only a moment before gripping your ankles and positioning you the way he wants you.

He presses your face into the mattress, your ass high in the air. 

You hear the flick of his knife open, and you shiver with anticipation of what is to come. 

The chill of the blade is just noticeable enough for you to feel it run down your spine. The Soldier puts just enough pressure on it to cut open your tank top but not cut you. The fabric falls from your back and pools at your hands. He cuts open your shorts and panties next, leaving you bare for him.

"Time for you to take what I give you," he grunts, positioning himself behind you. The mattress dips with his weight, and you can feel the heat radiating from him.

He rubs his cock against you a few times, teasing you and making you squirm.

It's impossible to not whine as he teases you, impossible to keep your noises contained. "Fuck," you whimper as his cock bumps your clit.

"You're going to look so beautiful impaled on my cock," the man whispers, leaning over you to speak next to your face.

His voice is deep and gravelly, and it somehow turns you on more. He bites your earlobe, tugging it with his teeth as he pushes into you in a brutal thrust.

You groan at the feeling. He's so deep inside you, and the stretch burns a little with no preparation. 

"Oh my god," your voice comes out broken and weak; you can practically feel him feeding off your pitiful state.

"There is no god, little lamb." The man sits back up and begins to fuck you with long, deep strokes, hitting all the right spots inside you. 

His grip on your hips is the only thing holding you up; you are entirely and wholly at his mercy.

The Soldier uses your body in the way he's dreamed about since the moment he laid eyes on you. You feel even better than he thought you would; the way you squeeze him sends him spiraling.

He loves the way you look, the way you stare up at him with lust-blown eyes. He loves the way you gave in to him, the way you let him do whatever he wanted. 

As he fucks you now, all he can think of is how perfect you are. He made a good decision choosing you.

He especially loves the sounds you make. You're so vocal without realizing it. Every time he touches you, every time his cock brushes that spot inside of you, you're whimpering and moaning.

You respond so well; you're so good for him.

"My perfect little lamb," he grunts, picking up the pace of his thrusts.

You can't help but preen at his praise. "So fuckin' perfect, taking what I give you. You like it? Yeah? You like being fucked like a whore?"

No one's ever spoken to you like this, called you those names, but you love it. It makes you want him more. You press your hips back against him, urging him to fuck you more.

Your lack of response earns you a threat with his blade. He presses it against your spine again, this time harder.

"Answer me."

"Yes," you moan. "Yes, I love it so much." You hear his satisfied huff as his other hand leaves your hip to circle your clit.

Electricity shoots through you as he brings you to your peak. Your toes curl, and your back arches, taking everything he's giving you.

"You want to come?" He taunts, staggering his thrusts.

"Please, please, please," you beg wantonly, not caring how pathetic you sound.

"Well, when you ask so nicely," he replies, voice trailing off as he evens out his pace, bringing you right back to the edge.

It only takes a few more moments for you to explode. Your whole body shakes as you come.

The Soldier watches the beautiful sight in front of him, and it sends him over the edge; he spills into you and fucks it deeper and deeper into you.

You collapse onto the mattress, black creeping in on your vision.

You fall asleep, completely exhausted, before he leaves.

The Soldier watches your eyes dip closed, satisfied. A little voice in his head whispers to clean you up, and for once, he listens to it.

He carefully and gently cleans you up before placing a blanket over your sleeping form.

He remains in your room for a few more moments and only leaves when the sun begins to rise.

When leaves, it is with whispered parting words before slipping out the window.

"I will see you again, little lamb. Soon, very soon."

please let me know if you'd like to be added to my taglist <3

tags: @peaches1958 @prettylittlepluviophile @writerwrites @w0nderw0mansw0rld @hawsx3 @meetmeatyourworst @harrysthiccthighss @goldylions @late-to-the-party-81 @luxeavenger @cloudyfeel @searchf0rtheskyline

a strikethrough your name means i couldn't tag you :/

[preciousbarnes]

“My poor little lamb." The Soldier stands at his full height, towering over you. "All I want to do is hurt you."

damn. just damn.

[sgt-seabass]

𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓

During the Hydra takeover, the Winter Soldier becomes infatuated with a girl who makes him feel whole.

pairings — winter soldier x reader w/c — 4,2k This is an explicit fic. 18+ only.

warnings: hydra wins au, 18+ smut (sex, male and female orgasms), mentions of violence during Hydra takeover (non-graphic descriptions). a/n: set in the universe where Hydra wins. fic inspired by Monster by EXO and the emotions it gives me.

The day that Hydra won, everything changed.

It was a swift takeover, political sites all over the world taken ambush by the overpowered Hydra forces. The world seemed to freeze, teetering on the edge of panic.

However, everyone’s attention turned to the Avengers. Surely, they would stop the world from being taken over?

But as it turned out, they weren’t the world’s heroes that day. Hydra threatened the assassination of millions of political figures and innocents if the Avenger’s didn’t hand themselves in.

Instead, they vanished. No one knew where they went, but as the shots rang out in each parliament house, the world lost their faith in the fallen mantle that was the Avengers.

Keep reading

[preciousbarnes]

me with this fic

god i LOVE how you capture his darkness and ruthlessness as the winter soldier but the fact that he’s low key so soft for the reader and makes sure she has every comfort she could want with all her little plants ugh I love love lovE

[preciousbarnes]

Y’all really let me live out here with an ugly masterlist huh

Currently remaking and updating my masterlist :)

[preciousbarnes]

Haunted

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags: angst, loss, mourning, hurt/comfort, fluff eventually

Inspired by: Haunted by Taylor Swift

You felt ice cold, laying alone in a bed once kept warm by two bodies and now to be forever occupied by only one. It had been 3 days since you were given the worst news of your life, the worst news you would ever receive.

Part of you knew the second you opened the door to Sam standing on the doorstep, wringing his hands together and stuttering his request to come in. He never asked before, he was never nervous before. He had looked like he had just lost his best friend.

He had.

He explained to you the mission they were on in Eastern Europe, targeting an underground group attempting to recreate the super soldier serum.

Extensive, deadly injuries, you were told.

They knew with the number of injuries there wasn’t much hope, he explained to you. But hope was all you could hold on to at that moment.

Not compatible with life, you were told when asking for more details.

In between the cries, Sam assured you he did not suffer. Swore they loaded him up with every painkiller and sedative known to man to allow him to pass peacefully. That was it. When asking if you could see him one last time, Sam explained that it would be for the best if you remembered him as he was, breaking your heart even more.

You found yourself thinking of the obituary you had written earlier that day. How could you sum up a life like his into less than a novel? All he was, all he had to offer. Him as a whole.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Known simply as Bucky by loved ones. Aged 109. Loving husband, devoted soldier, and friend. Killed in the field defending what he believed in most, freedom and safety.

That was all you could bring yourself to write, and Sam assured you it was simple but beautiful just as your husband would have wanted.

Sam was arranging the rest of the funeral for you, which would take place tomorrow evening. Just a small gathering for those closest to Bucky during the sunset. All you had asked was for a private place for him to rest, preferably by nature. Known by few other than yourself, Bucky loved the outdoors. You wanted him to have a piece of beauty to himself forever. Thus, a small meadow had been privately purchased where he would by laid to rest.

You laid in bed, trying uselessly to go to sleep. You couldn’t. Each time your eyes closed, you saw Bucky. His smile, his beautiful eyes gazing at you, memories of his laughter and voice telling you he loved you. What once brought you comfort and warmth now kept you awake.

Late the next morning you moved robotically, getting showered and ready. As you did your hair and makeup, you saw how lifeless you appeared. Your hair was dry, without its normal shine. You had deep dark circles around your eyes. Your skin was dull. You looked lifeless, which matched exactly how you felt. As you styled your hair, you swore you saw a figure out of the corner of your eye. Gasping, you immediately dropped your styling tools.

You creeped out of your bathroom, and through your small home. No one was there. You could have sworn there was someone.

“Must be just lack of sleep,” you brokenly mutter to yourself, as you turn back to your bathroom to finish getting ready.

Around 5 Sam arrived to drive you to the small funeral. Tears slipped as it all began to become reality. He was gone. All you had was his memory to haunt you now.

The car ride was quiet. Sam kept looking to you out of the corner of his eye as he drove. He was worried, and heart broken for you.

“I know it doesn’t fix anything. It won’t undo the pain, but I’m here for you. I swore to Buck I’d always be here if something happened, just as he promised me for my family. You aren’t alone, honey. We’re all right here for you to lean on,” he softly told you.

“Thank you Sam. I’m just. I’m not ready to talk about all this yet. It’s too fresh still, but I think it always will be,” you tell him, voice becoming a whisper at the end.

You arrive at the meadow, to see the rest of the crew there. Agents, supervisors, the avengers, anyone who meant something the Bucky was there, just as you wanted. He deserved to be surrounded by love and respect as he is laid to rest. The scene was beautiful, a small meadow full of wildflowers near a little stream, with willow trees off in the distance. The sky was a mixture of pinks and oranges, beautifully painting the landscape in a honey golden color.

You all stand around the grave as Sam begins to speak, delivering the eulogy. You rest your hands on Bucky’s casket, stroking it the way you once stroked his cheek. As it all sinks in, the emotional dam you had built breaks open wide.

Out of your line of sight stands a figure hidden in the tree line. He watches as his own heart feels ripped in two, watching as you sob over the casket in front of you.

“You’re not gone! You can’t be gone!” you cried over and over. You were no longer numb. Seeing the casket, the flowers, the simple and inconspicuous grave marker, it all made it painfully real.

A small, sad smile takes over his face as he watches Sam gently pull you from the casket as it begins to be lowered into the ground. The man in the shadows tears up as he watches your sobs become heart wrenching wails of pure sorrow and grief, you begging for it all to be some sick nightmare.

The man slinks away further into the forest, left with nothing but sorrow and regret in his heart. It was coming over him like it’s all a big mistake.

That night Sam brought you back to his home, afraid to leave you on your own. Weeks slowly drudged on. You barely left his guest room. You couldn’t return to the home you once occupied with your husband. It was too much. Full of memories of love and promises of forever that was taken away far too soon.

When you did leave the guest room, usually when Sam was gone, it always felt as if someone else was there. A safe presence, a warm and familiar one. You swore you caught a figure out of the corner of you eye a few times. You’d always search the house high and low, some part of you hoping to find something but always coming up empty handed.

It all came to fruition one fateful night when you woke around 4am to hushed voiced down the hallway.

You creeped down the hall softly and slowly, stopping at the edge but not daring to peak around the hallways corner and down the stairs into the living room.

“Man, this cannot go on any longer. She’s fading away. There’s no way she can last a year like this. She won’t survive,” Sam said urgently and desperately. Your heart clenched despite your confusion at who he’d be talking to, hating to have worried him so. He had tried to take away the pain that he could, and had even made you smile a couple times. But it didn’t undo the hole in your heart and soul.

“I know, but I’ve worked something out” says a voice you’d recognize anywhere. One you never thought you’d hear again. You gasp, tears springing to your eyes as you’re suddenly running down the stairs to the two men.

There he was. He wore his all black tactical gear you had seen many times. His face had fading bruises and scrapes, obviously having just came from a fight of some sorts. He looked at your with a heart broken gaze, taking in your shattered appearance.

You sniffle, tears cascading down your cheeks as you feel like you’re seeing a ghost.

“Bucky?” You brokenly cry, as your knees buckle.

Before you can blink you’re swept up into strong and familiar arms, Bucky holding you tightly to his chest. Your fingers claw into his shoulders, gripping him to yourself as you sob violently, overwhelmed. Sam finds himself smiling softly at the reunion he wished for as he quietly excused himself.

“H-how?” You cry between sobs. Bucky sits down in a chair, bringing you down into his lap as he cradles you close, allowing you to rearrange yourself to straddle his lap, holding him tightly to your torso. You’re afraid to let go, afraid this is another dream and that you’ll wake to his memory slipping through your fingers.

His metal hand pets your back softly but firmly, grounding you as his flesh hand cradles your face, looking you in your eyes.

“Hey, baby doll. I’m right here, but you gotta breathe for me. Let’s just breathe for a moment alright?” His voice softly suggests. You look over his face, seeing the man you love more than life itself, alive and warm and healing in your arms. You nod, trying to catch your breathe.

After a few moments pass as you calm your breathing, you ask again.

“Bucky, I- I don’t understand. You, Sam said you were gone?” You question, voice wet with emotion.

He nods, and grimaces.

“We lied. I had to lie. The mission, it was bad. It is still bad.” He explains to your softly, continuing to give you soft pets and caresses that ground you. They tell you he’s here, he’s safe, he’s alive, he’s yours.

“How could you? Do you know how I’ve been? Bucky I was dead without you,” you sob softly.

His guilt ridden frown deepens, and there are tears in his eyes.

“I know, baby. I know. And I am so so sorry. There was no other way. There still isn’t. But I’m too selfish to keep this charade up, even if you’d be safer if I had,” he explains to you.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“I’ve been here, checking in on you. I was at the funeral. I know how I’ve hurt you, and I will be sorry for the rest of my life. But I hope to spend the rest of my life making up for this.” He tells you, the realization dawning on you. You hadn’t been crazy. That figure had been him.

“It was you,” you whisper. Bucky smiles sadly and nods.

“It was. The mission was bad. They knew about you. They knew where we were, even with all our precautions we took. They were going to use you to get me, and kill you. I couldn’t let that happen. So Sam, a couple higher ups, and I faked my death. We figured in a year I could reveal the truth once my undercover mission going after them concluded. I needed you alive, I can’t live in a world without you on this planet. Even if it meant coming back in a year and you maybe moved on. It was worth it. But then I saw you mourn me. How broken it made you. I heard your cries, your pleas for me. I’m too selfish to continue this lie, even if it’d keep you safer.” He tells you, voice choked with emotion as his eyes fill with tears.

Your hands move from where they had grip of his shoulders to cradle his face, wiping away the tears the fell.

“Oh, James. I’m just so, so glad you’re not gone. I can’t live in a world without you. I would have never moved on. I promised to be yours and yours alone forever. Even after all of this, I mean every word I said to you.” You tell him, before pulling his face to yours for a kiss.

He kisses you like a man starving, his lips soft and warm but firm and demanding. His hands hold you reverently, like you’re made of glass and he refuses to let you slip through his fingers. You hold him softly but firmly in your arms, feeling his strong and sturdy frame under you. It promises safety, comfort, love, and a future.

You wrap your arms around him tighter, pulling him impossibly closer. After a few moments you both begrudgingly part to breathe. Your foreheads rest on each other as you gaze into each others eyes. The rest of the world had faded into the background, and it’s just you and the man you thought you lost; the man who you love and will love until the end of your days no matter how misguided he may have been.

“I’m so so sorry, doll. I love you so much. Missed you so much. I’ll never hurt you like this again, I just needed you safe” he vowed to you, voice breaking as he hugs you to his frame.

You readjust in his lap, wrapping your legs around him so you’re seated firmly on his lap. Your head rests on his shoulder as your hands softly map his back soothingly.

“I know,” you whisper, “I love you too. Always.”

You both sit there, basking in each other’s presence quietly, before you break the silence again.

“You said you have it worked out now? What did you work out?” You ask him in a whisper, not wanting to break the soft and peaceful atmosphere surrounding you both. You move to sit back up instead of leaving against him, grasping both his hands in yours.

“We’ll go into hiding for a while, until Sam and others can figure this all out. In the past few weeks I’ve narrowed down locations for them, and their structure. I’ll assist from the sidelines when necessary, but I won’t be in the field at all. I’ll be with you. We will be together.” He promises you.

“Sounds perfect to me,” you sigh, knowing the rest will be figured out. Looking down to where your left hand rested with his, you smiled as both your wedding rings caught the light. You were just glad to have your husband back in your arms, no longer just haunted.

[saradika]

Hey J! I hope you're having a great day and a great week so far 💖

I have been loving seeing all the headers and dividers that you've been creating! You have a great eye for color and your designs are awesome! I see them and even though some wouldn't go with my current blog aesthetic, I've been tempted to just cram them all chaotically in there because they are just SO good! 😂

Would it be alright if I requested some dividers to use for my masterlist? I'll be cleaning it up again soon!

Just something to go with a dark/romantic floral pattern! Doesn't need to be super detailed and please take your time!

Thank you so much! 😘💕

ahh hello my friend! omg thank you, you are too sweet! Feeling so 🥰 that you liked them, and I would love to make some for you! I tried to pick colors off your Masterlists. I hope they fit your theme (and if you want any recolored, just let me know! I can do that for sure!)

I am really hoping you are having a great weekend, too! 💖

———

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please like or reblog if you use 💕

[preciousbarnes]

thank you so much for making these!! beautiful as always❤️

[fanfic-scribbles]

Crash Pad

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: You’re just minding your own business when the Winter Soldier crashes into your life. Literally.

Quick facts: Romance – established past Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes leading into Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Fluff, slight mention of blood

Words: 7801

A/N: I started writing this a few months ago and almost finished when my life got fairly shook up. Still, I’m quite proud of being able to eke out an ending. For anybody who only cares about this story, feel free to skip this note, but for anybody following my other stuff: writing is going to be slow for the time being. My mom died and things are pretty topsy-turvy right now. Writing is still a comfort, but head to hands isn’t working the same right now. Thanks for your patience; I hope this is a pleasant read for you in the mean time <3

  ~

You’re getting ready for bed and have just turned off the living room light when you hear a clatter on the fire escape. You haven’t gotten over to shut the window yet and you wince at the thought of maybe coming face to face with a giant rat, or a raccoon, although you haven’t yet seen a raccoon and you’re pretty sure they don’t live in the city but it would probably be better than a rat the size of a raccoon–

What you get is much, much worse as a fully grown man falls through the curtains, knocks over a side table and potted plant, and crashes onto your living room floor with a wheezed (but emphatic), “God damn it!”

You freeze, unsure of whether to run or yell or maybe both. However the man flounders on the floor, unable to otherwise move much as he holds his side and– is that blood on your floor?

“Are you okay?” you ask despite everything.

He yanks his head back to look at you and grimaces. “Fuck, I–” He tries to get up, slips in what you are almost positive is blood, and slumps over with a little sigh and a handful of muttered curses that might be in another language. “I am really sorry about this,” he says lowly, like he’s embarrassed to be bleeding out in a stranger’s living room. Then he shifts a little more and moonlight gleams on his arm. His very…shiny…completely metal arm, and you find a whole new way to be concerned.

You should have known the reasonable rent was a goddamn trap.

Keep reading

[preciousbarnes]

This was so good!! When the reader thought she was just going to be dropped but then they BOTH lean in for a lil kiss?? I’m banging my credit cards on the table for more

[preciousbarnes]

I’m sorry if I just destroyed your feed with me responding to comments and feedback on my latest work🥺 I’m going to be really busy the next few days but wanted to be sure to take the time to thank everyone so far. Also low key forgot about the queue feature on tumblr where I could have spaced them all out. My bad! I’ll do better next time🤍

[preciousbarnes]

Here When I Wake

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags: Winter Soldier-ish!Bucky, Memory Loss, mentions of violence, comfort, fluff, Sam being a good friend

There’s a gentle breeze flowing into your small Brooklyn apartment from the open windows. The sun is setting in the west, illuminating the sky in shades of pinks and purples. The fading sunlight matches the dim vibe within the apartment, only illuminated by a couple lamps and some candles placed strategically on shelves, where Alpine couldn’t knock them down.

The light sound of an old jazz record from Bucky’s collection plays softly as you sway in the living room to the melodic tunes. It’s a peaceful evening; just you and Alpine together in the kitchen, as she always loved keeping you company when you were cooking.

You lose yourself in the repetition of cooking your favorite dish, before being interrupted by the sound of your cellphone ringing and vibrating on the kitchen counter. You pick up your phone and are surprised to see who is calling, Bucky’s partner, Sam.

“Sam?” You ask, confusion clear in your voice upon greeting him.

“Hey, listen, where are you?” Sam inquires urgently over the phone, out of breath and sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

“Um, home? In Buck and I’s apartment? Why?” You question, becoming more confused as you also feel concern creeping up on you. Why was Sam calling? He never called you.

“Something happened on the mission. Bucky experienced a head injury, and was triggered somehow. He’s not himself right now. We lost track of him outside of Manhattan. Stay where you are. I’m on my way to you now. We’re hoping maybe you can help us.” He explains quickly. You hear the sound of a car roaring to life before the line quickly drops off.

Your phone falls from you hand, hitting the floor. He wasn’t himself, which could only mean one thing. He wasn’t him. The winter soldier was back, and there’s no telling what he’s after, or what danger he’s getting himself into. You make quick work of finishing the dinner dish you had planned to share with Bucky, moving it to a storage container to save since having lost your appetite. There was no way you could eat right now when your stomach is a ball of nerves.

You’re washing up the dishes as a welcomed distraction when you suddenly get the feeling of eyes on you. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and your hands slightly tremble. Bucky always warned you about closing those damn windows that led to the fire escape.

You gently place the pan you were scrubbing back into the water, opting to grab the large kitchen knife out of the water before taking a deep breath and abruptly turning around.

You gasp, surprised at who is here. It’s Bucky, sitting in the shadows of your apartment, having blown out the candles and now his figure was barely lit by the one lamp on the stand next to your loveseat he was sat on. His eyes appraise you, glancing at the knife held tightly in your hand.

“You’re my mission” he says, his voice with a slight Russian accent you are not used to.

“Bucky? What’s going on?” You ask him, hesitantly after hearing him utter the word ‘mission’.

Bucky cocks his head to the side, his eyes taking in how you’ve relaxed since seeing him.

“Who is Bucky?” His voice huskily asks.

You swallow dryly, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. You set the knife back down into the dish water, grabbing a dish towel to dry your damp hands. His eyes never leave you, watching your every move. You don’t feel in danger of the man, knowing that if he wanted you dead in this state he could have killed you without you seeing it coming.

You turn back and slowly approach Bucky, before asking to sit next to him. He looks confused at your request.

“I’m an asset, why are you asking me?” He asks you, voice soft but showing his confusion.

“Here you always have choices. You can say no. Your comfort matters.” You explain to him, swallowing down emotions as you think of the times Bucky was tortured and treated horribly, given no choices or options.

He looks skeptical, but nods regardless, motioning for you to sit down with him. You sit down next to him gently, leaving a comfortable space between you both. As you take in his tense form, you notice blood on his dark pants, saturating one leg fully. You let out a gasp, reaching for him.

“What happened to your leg?” You ask quickly, moving to assess an injury before Bucky moves to the side out of your reach.

“Not my blood,” he explains, voice taking on a dark tone.

You look at his stony expression and dark eyes, nervous to ask but knowing you need to.

“Whose blood, then?” You ask softly, nerves tilting your voice.

“The targets. They were coming here for you. Had to stop them. They have been eliminated.” He explains, voice steely and darkened.

“You said I’m your mission. What do you mean?” You ask softly.

“Must protect you at all costs,” he explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why?” you probe, trying to understand.

“I don’t know. All I remember is fighting, getting a bad hit to the head, and then these men mentioned this address and your name. I knew I had to get here. I had to keep you safe.” Bucky tells you, openly.

You give Bucky a small smile, getting ready to thank him, before Bucky is jumping to his feet and grabbing your hands to pull you into a standing position. He begins to shove you down the hall quickly and into your shared bedroom.

“Huh? Bucky? What’s going on?” Questions fall from your lips as you don’t understand his sudden and urgent movements.

“Someone’s coming, you must hide,” he explains in a hushed voice, as he motions for you to get into your closet so he can shut you in to hide you.

You hear the front door open, and Sam’s voice echoing through the apartment, calling your name. Bucky grabs a knife from his holder and begins stalking his way towards his next target before you quickly grab his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Sam, it’s okay!” You call out, earning a betrayed look from bucky.

“Bucky, Sam is a good guy. On your side. He’s not a threat. He’s a friendly,” you explain softly, hoping he will trust you.

“Sometimes bad people appear good, маленький кролик” he tells you, unsure of Sam and still trying to gently push you back into the closet.

You reach out and grab Bucky’s hand, and reach up with your other hand to gently rest your hand on his jaw. He’s clearly taken by surprise, his eyes wide as they look to your face and then down to the hand gently holding his metal one. It confuses him. No one has ever in his memory regarded him with such softness, and had never volunteered to touch the weapon that is his metal arm.

“I would never lie to you, I promise Sam means no harm. I trust him with my life, and I trust him with yours almost every month when you guys are out on missions together,” your voice is gentle and honest as you hope Bucky will listen and trust you.

As he continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, the door to the bedroom slowly opens, revealing a surprised looking Sam.

Sam slowly steps into the room, holding his hands up to show Bucky he isn’t armed. Bucky quickly turns from you, hiding you effectively behind his back and broad shoulders, shielding you from any potential danger his mind thinks Sam may pose.

“Hey, man. What’s going on?” Sam asks, voice low but calm despite his worried expression as his eyes flicker to yours peeking around Bucky’s expansive frame.

“You were fighting by my side,” Bucky recalls out loud.

“Yes, yes I was. We’re on the same team.” Sam explains, lowering his outstretched hands to rest at his side.

“I’m missing time. I know I am. There are pictures here. Me and her, but I don’t remember. I knew I needed to keep her safe, but I don’t know why. Is it an order?” Bucky asks, sounding confused as his hand not holding the knife reaches up to rub his forehead.

“Is your head hurting?” You softly ask him, reaching up to rub his shoulder gently. Bucky welcomes the touch, surprising himself. He nods in answer to your question, despite himself.

“No, man. You don’t take orders anymore, you make them. We aren’t with hydra. We got you away. You were pardoned for the crimes those people forced you to commit. You help people now. You keep people safe..” Sam explains to Bucky.

“Okay, if all that’s true, it still doesn’t explain her?” Bucky says, moving away from his position of shielding you, instead turning so the three of you can look to each other.

“We’re together, Buck. We have been for a couple years now. We live here in this apartment, together, freely. You’re safe here. You’re safe with us. You’re safe with me,” you tell him, eyes wide as you look to him, longing to pull him into your arms and take away his confusion.

“Why am I missing time? All I remember is hydra. Working for them. The machines they used on me. I don’t remember any of this that you tell me. I remember my head hurting, and fighting next to you, and then knowing I had to get here and protect her.” Bucky questions, eyebrows furrowed and body still tense.

“This has happened in the past before, before you met her. We thought it was a one time thing. We’re now guessing if you take a hit to the head just right, right spot and right force, and this happens. It’ll work itself out after a good nights sleep while you heal. We already have some great scientists who want to help you working on a way to prevent this from happening again, so you don’t keep going through this,” Sam says to you both.

Bucky takes in what Sam said, nodding to himself and looking to you.

“Okay. I don’t know why, but I trust you both. I just need to sleep this off basically?” Bucky questions.

You and Sam both nod.

“Yeah, man. Just sleep it off. I’m going to stay here on the couch in the living room, just in case you need something.” Sam states, looking to you for your approval. You nod your head, reaching to your bed to grab an extra pillow and a blanket for him. Handing these to him, Sam nods in thanks and excuses himself to the living room.

“Well, let’s get you cleaned up” you find yourself saying. Moving to the closet and grabbing out Bucky’s most comfy pair of sweats and a soft t-shirt for him. You grab him a pair of boxers from the dresser quickly and turn back to lead him to the bathroom connected to your bedroom. He silently follows you. During this interaction you notice how purposefully loud in movement Bucky must normally be around you, as the dissociated soldier with you moves with a natural silence to a point it’s almost eerie. But, you think to yourself, that is a necessary part of the job he was tasked with for decades.

You wait in the bedroom after showing Bucky the bathroom and where the towels were. You find yourself lost in thought, once again hating what Bucky has gone through, and how a hit to the head sent him right back, at least partly. Bucky here wasn’t fully the winter soldier, but he wasn’t your Bucky either. Instead he was an odd mixture of the two.

After some minute pass, the bathroom door opens to reveal Bucky, looking cozy as ever in the large sweatpants and stretched out t-shirt you had given him. Even in such basic clothing, he still takes your breath away.

“Where do I sleep?” His husky voice softly questions.

“Here in the bed, I’ll sleep in the guest room sweetheart,” the endearment slips past your lips before you can stop it, making you look away and feel blood rising to your neck and cheeks in embarrassment.

“Please, don’t be embarrassed, маленький кролик. It’s nice, someone being kind to me. And you can sleep, with me, if you’d like. I understand that’s what we normally do, I don’t want you uncomfortable,” Bucky says, voice soft and beginning to become sleepy.

“Okay, if you’re sure that’s alright?” You ask, as you take off your oversized sweater to just leave yourself in your sleep shorts and one of Bucky’s baggy t-shirts.

“It’s fine doll,” a soft smile takes over his features as he walks closer to the bed.

You flip the covers over, climbing in and patting the empty side next to you, motioning for him to join you.

He walks over and sits on the bed next to you, pulling the covers over you both as you reach over and turn the bedside lamp off, leaving you both to get settled in the darkness. A few moments pass in silence as you both get comfortable under the covers

“Can I ask something?” He asks.

“Yeah, Buck?” You ask, turning to him. His features are lit by the moonlight pouring in through the windows.

“Will you be here? When I wake up? Normally when I go to sleep, I lose everything,” he asks you, your heart breaking at the uncertainty on his face.

You reach over and gently stroke his jaw, moving closer to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Of course. I’ll always be here, Buck.” You convey to him with absolute certainty in your voice, calming his fears.

As you find yourself drifting off to sleep, you feel a soft kiss pressed to your forehead.

“Thank you, маленький кролик”

Translations: маленький кролик - little bunny

[thevillainswhore]

Oh my god I want to cry 😭 this was the perfect balance of softness and angst.

I think my heart dropped when she felt someone watching her - it was written so well!!

The fact that Bucky doesn’t fully remember her but still has the instinct to protect her and trust her! And my heart fully broke when he asks if she’ll still be there

But this was so so amazing sweets! My heart is mended knowing he’ll be okay in the morning 🤣

Beautiful work!! 💗

[preciousbarnes]

🥹🥹🥹

Thank you so much for the lovely words and feedback. I’m so happy you enjoyed my lil work. Thanks for reading and sharing!! Much love 💕

[preciousbarnes]

Here When I Wake

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags: Winter Soldier-ish!Bucky, Memory Loss, mentions of violence, comfort, fluff, Sam being a good friend

There’s a gentle breeze flowing into your small Brooklyn apartment from the open windows. The sun is setting in the west, illuminating the sky in shades of pinks and purples. The fading sunlight matches the dim vibe within the apartment, only illuminated by a couple lamps and some candles placed strategically on shelves, where Alpine couldn’t knock them down.

The light sound of an old jazz record from Bucky’s collection plays softly as you sway in the living room to the melodic tunes. It’s a peaceful evening; just you and Alpine together in the kitchen, as she always loved keeping you company when you were cooking.

You lose yourself in the repetition of cooking your favorite dish, before being interrupted by the sound of your cellphone ringing and vibrating on the kitchen counter. You pick up your phone and are surprised to see who is calling, Bucky’s partner, Sam.

“Sam?” You ask, confusion clear in your voice upon greeting him.

“Hey, listen, where are you?” Sam inquires urgently over the phone, out of breath and sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

“Um, home? In Buck and I’s apartment? Why?” You question, becoming more confused as you also feel concern creeping up on you. Why was Sam calling? He never called you.

“Something happened on the mission. Bucky experienced a head injury, and was triggered somehow. He’s not himself right now. We lost track of him outside of Manhattan. Stay where you are. I’m on my way to you now. We’re hoping maybe you can help us.” He explains quickly. You hear the sound of a car roaring to life before the line quickly drops off.

Your phone falls from you hand, hitting the floor. He wasn’t himself, which could only mean one thing. He wasn’t him. The winter soldier was back, and there’s no telling what he’s after, or what danger he’s getting himself into. You make quick work of finishing the dinner dish you had planned to share with Bucky, moving it to a storage container to save since having lost your appetite. There was no way you could eat right now when your stomach is a ball of nerves.

You’re washing up the dishes as a welcomed distraction when you suddenly get the feeling of eyes on you. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and your hands slightly tremble. Bucky always warned you about closing those damn windows that led to the fire escape.

You gently place the pan you were scrubbing back into the water, opting to grab the large kitchen knife out of the water before taking a deep breath and abruptly turning around.

You gasp, surprised at who is here. It’s Bucky, sitting in the shadows of your apartment, having blown out the candles and now his figure was barely lit by the one lamp on the stand next to your loveseat he was sat on. His eyes appraise you, glancing at the knife held tightly in your hand.

“You’re my mission” he says, his voice with a slight Russian accent you are not used to.

“Bucky? What’s going on?” You ask him, hesitantly after hearing him utter the word ‘mission’.

Bucky cocks his head to the side, his eyes taking in how you’ve relaxed since seeing him.

“Who is Bucky?” His voice huskily asks.

You swallow dryly, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. You set the knife back down into the dish water, grabbing a dish towel to dry your damp hands. His eyes never leave you, watching your every move. You don’t feel in danger of the man, knowing that if he wanted you dead in this state he could have killed you without you seeing it coming.

You turn back and slowly approach Bucky, before asking to sit next to him. He looks confused at your request.

“I’m an asset, why are you asking me?” He asks you, voice soft but showing his confusion.

“Here you always have choices. You can say no. Your comfort matters.” You explain to him, swallowing down emotions as you think of the times Bucky was tortured and treated horribly, given no choices or options.

He looks skeptical, but nods regardless, motioning for you to sit down with him. You sit down next to him gently, leaving a comfortable space between you both. As you take in his tense form, you notice blood on his dark pants, saturating one leg fully. You let out a gasp, reaching for him.

“What happened to your leg?” You ask quickly, moving to assess an injury before Bucky moves to the side out of your reach.

“Not my blood,” he explains, voice taking on a dark tone.

You look at his stony expression and dark eyes, nervous to ask but knowing you need to.

“Whose blood, then?” You ask softly, nerves tilting your voice.

“The targets. They were coming here for you. Had to stop them. They have been eliminated.” He explains, voice steely and darkened.

“You said I’m your mission. What do you mean?” You ask softly.

“Must protect you at all costs,” he explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why?” you probe, trying to understand.

“I don’t know. All I remember is fighting, getting a bad hit to the head, and then these men mentioned this address and your name. I knew I had to get here. I had to keep you safe.” Bucky tells you, openly.

You give Bucky a small smile, getting ready to thank him, before Bucky is jumping to his feet and grabbing your hands to pull you into a standing position. He begins to shove you down the hall quickly and into your shared bedroom.

“Huh? Bucky? What’s going on?” Questions fall from your lips as you don’t understand his sudden and urgent movements.

“Someone’s coming, you must hide,” he explains in a hushed voice, as he motions for you to get into your closet so he can shut you in to hide you.

You hear the front door open, and Sam’s voice echoing through the apartment, calling your name. Bucky grabs a knife from his holder and begins stalking his way towards his next target before you quickly grab his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Sam, it’s okay!” You call out, earning a betrayed look from bucky.

“Bucky, Sam is a good guy. On your side. He’s not a threat. He’s a friendly,” you explain softly, hoping he will trust you.

“Sometimes bad people appear good, маленький кролик” he tells you, unsure of Sam and still trying to gently push you back into the closet.

You reach out and grab Bucky’s hand, and reach up with your other hand to gently rest your hand on his jaw. He’s clearly taken by surprise, his eyes wide as they look to your face and then down to the hand gently holding his metal one. It confuses him. No one has ever in his memory regarded him with such softness, and had never volunteered to touch the weapon that is his metal arm.

“I would never lie to you, I promise Sam means no harm. I trust him with my life, and I trust him with yours almost every month when you guys are out on missions together,” your voice is gentle and honest as you hope Bucky will listen and trust you.

As he continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, the door to the bedroom slowly opens, revealing a surprised looking Sam.

Sam slowly steps into the room, holding his hands up to show Bucky he isn’t armed. Bucky quickly turns from you, hiding you effectively behind his back and broad shoulders, shielding you from any potential danger his mind thinks Sam may pose.

“Hey, man. What’s going on?” Sam asks, voice low but calm despite his worried expression as his eyes flicker to yours peeking around Bucky’s expansive frame.

“You were fighting by my side,” Bucky recalls out loud.

“Yes, yes I was. We’re on the same team.” Sam explains, lowering his outstretched hands to rest at his side.

“I’m missing time. I know I am. There are pictures here. Me and her, but I don’t remember. I knew I needed to keep her safe, but I don’t know why. Is it an order?” Bucky asks, sounding confused as his hand not holding the knife reaches up to rub his forehead.

“Is your head hurting?” You softly ask him, reaching up to rub his shoulder gently. Bucky welcomes the touch, surprising himself. He nods in answer to your question, despite himself.

“No, man. You don’t take orders anymore, you make them. We aren’t with hydra. We got you away. You were pardoned for the crimes those people forced you to commit. You help people now. You keep people safe..” Sam explains to Bucky.

“Okay, if all that’s true, it still doesn’t explain her?” Bucky says, moving away from his position of shielding you, instead turning so the three of you can look to each other.

“We’re together, Buck. We have been for a couple years now. We live here in this apartment, together, freely. You’re safe here. You’re safe with us. You’re safe with me,” you tell him, eyes wide as you look to him, longing to pull him into your arms and take away his confusion.

“Why am I missing time? All I remember is hydra. Working for them. The machines they used on me. I don’t remember any of this that you tell me. I remember my head hurting, and fighting next to you, and then knowing I had to get here and protect her.” Bucky questions, eyebrows furrowed and body still tense.

“This has happened in the past before, before you met her. We thought it was a one time thing. We’re now guessing if you take a hit to the head just right, right spot and right force, and this happens. It’ll work itself out after a good nights sleep while you heal. We already have some great scientists who want to help you working on a way to prevent this from happening again, so you don’t keep going through this,” Sam says to you both.

Bucky takes in what Sam said, nodding to himself and looking to you.

“Okay. I don’t know why, but I trust you both. I just need to sleep this off basically?” Bucky questions.

You and Sam both nod.

“Yeah, man. Just sleep it off. I’m going to stay here on the couch in the living room, just in case you need something.” Sam states, looking to you for your approval. You nod your head, reaching to your bed to grab an extra pillow and a blanket for him. Handing these to him, Sam nods in thanks and excuses himself to the living room.

“Well, let’s get you cleaned up” you find yourself saying. Moving to the closet and grabbing out Bucky’s most comfy pair of sweats and a soft t-shirt for him. You grab him a pair of boxers from the dresser quickly and turn back to lead him to the bathroom connected to your bedroom. He silently follows you. During this interaction you notice how purposefully loud in movement Bucky must normally be around you, as the dissociated soldier with you moves with a natural silence to a point it’s almost eerie. But, you think to yourself, that is a necessary part of the job he was tasked with for decades.

You wait in the bedroom after showing Bucky the bathroom and where the towels were. You find yourself lost in thought, once again hating what Bucky has gone through, and how a hit to the head sent him right back, at least partly. Bucky here wasn’t fully the winter soldier, but he wasn’t your Bucky either. Instead he was an odd mixture of the two.

After some minute pass, the bathroom door opens to reveal Bucky, looking cozy as ever in the large sweatpants and stretched out t-shirt you had given him. Even in such basic clothing, he still takes your breath away.

“Where do I sleep?” His husky voice softly questions.

“Here in the bed, I’ll sleep in the guest room sweetheart,” the endearment slips past your lips before you can stop it, making you look away and feel blood rising to your neck and cheeks in embarrassment.

“Please, don’t be embarrassed, маленький кролик. It’s nice, someone being kind to me. And you can sleep, with me, if you’d like. I understand that’s what we normally do, I don’t want you uncomfortable,” Bucky says, voice soft and beginning to become sleepy.

“Okay, if you’re sure that’s alright?” You ask, as you take off your oversized sweater to just leave yourself in your sleep shorts and one of Bucky’s baggy t-shirts.

“It’s fine doll,” a soft smile takes over his features as he walks closer to the bed.

You flip the covers over, climbing in and patting the empty side next to you, motioning for him to join you.

He walks over and sits on the bed next to you, pulling the covers over you both as you reach over and turn the bedside lamp off, leaving you both to get settled in the darkness. A few moments pass in silence as you both get comfortable under the covers

“Can I ask something?” He asks.

“Yeah, Buck?” You ask, turning to him. His features are lit by the moonlight pouring in through the windows.

“Will you be here? When I wake up? Normally when I go to sleep, I lose everything,” he asks you, your heart breaking at the uncertainty on his face.

You reach over and gently stroke his jaw, moving closer to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Of course. I’ll always be here, Buck.” You convey to him with absolute certainty in your voice, calming his fears.

As you find yourself drifting off to sleep, you feel a soft kiss pressed to your forehead.

“Thank you, маленький кролик”

Translations: маленький кролик - little bunny

[targaryenvampireslayer]

This was so heartbreaking but so lovely as well omg 😭💖

[preciousbarnes]

Thank you so much for reading and sharing!! So happy you enjoyed!

[preciousbarnes]

Here When I Wake

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags: Winter Soldier-ish!Bucky, Memory Loss, mentions of violence, comfort, fluff, Sam being a good friend

There’s a gentle breeze flowing into your small Brooklyn apartment from the open windows. The sun is setting in the west, illuminating the sky in shades of pinks and purples. The fading sunlight matches the dim vibe within the apartment, only illuminated by a couple lamps and some candles placed strategically on shelves, where Alpine couldn’t knock them down.

The light sound of an old jazz record from Bucky’s collection plays softly as you sway in the living room to the melodic tunes. It’s a peaceful evening; just you and Alpine together in the kitchen, as she always loved keeping you company when you were cooking.

You lose yourself in the repetition of cooking your favorite dish, before being interrupted by the sound of your cellphone ringing and vibrating on the kitchen counter. You pick up your phone and are surprised to see who is calling, Bucky’s partner, Sam.

“Sam?” You ask, confusion clear in your voice upon greeting him.

“Hey, listen, where are you?” Sam inquires urgently over the phone, out of breath and sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

“Um, home? In Buck and I’s apartment? Why?” You question, becoming more confused as you also feel concern creeping up on you. Why was Sam calling? He never called you.

“Something happened on the mission. Bucky experienced a head injury, and was triggered somehow. He’s not himself right now. We lost track of him outside of Manhattan. Stay where you are. I’m on my way to you now. We’re hoping maybe you can help us.” He explains quickly. You hear the sound of a car roaring to life before the line quickly drops off.

Your phone falls from you hand, hitting the floor. He wasn’t himself, which could only mean one thing. He wasn’t him. The winter soldier was back, and there’s no telling what he’s after, or what danger he’s getting himself into. You make quick work of finishing the dinner dish you had planned to share with Bucky, moving it to a storage container to save since having lost your appetite. There was no way you could eat right now when your stomach is a ball of nerves.

You’re washing up the dishes as a welcomed distraction when you suddenly get the feeling of eyes on you. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and your hands slightly tremble. Bucky always warned you about closing those damn windows that led to the fire escape.

You gently place the pan you were scrubbing back into the water, opting to grab the large kitchen knife out of the water before taking a deep breath and abruptly turning around.

You gasp, surprised at who is here. It’s Bucky, sitting in the shadows of your apartment, having blown out the candles and now his figure was barely lit by the one lamp on the stand next to your loveseat he was sat on. His eyes appraise you, glancing at the knife held tightly in your hand.

“You’re my mission” he says, his voice with a slight Russian accent you are not used to.

“Bucky? What’s going on?” You ask him, hesitantly after hearing him utter the word ‘mission’.

Bucky cocks his head to the side, his eyes taking in how you’ve relaxed since seeing him.

“Who is Bucky?” His voice huskily asks.

You swallow dryly, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. You set the knife back down into the dish water, grabbing a dish towel to dry your damp hands. His eyes never leave you, watching your every move. You don’t feel in danger of the man, knowing that if he wanted you dead in this state he could have killed you without you seeing it coming.

You turn back and slowly approach Bucky, before asking to sit next to him. He looks confused at your request.

“I’m an asset, why are you asking me?” He asks you, voice soft but showing his confusion.

“Here you always have choices. You can say no. Your comfort matters.” You explain to him, swallowing down emotions as you think of the times Bucky was tortured and treated horribly, given no choices or options.

He looks skeptical, but nods regardless, motioning for you to sit down with him. You sit down next to him gently, leaving a comfortable space between you both. As you take in his tense form, you notice blood on his dark pants, saturating one leg fully. You let out a gasp, reaching for him.

“What happened to your leg?” You ask quickly, moving to assess an injury before Bucky moves to the side out of your reach.

“Not my blood,” he explains, voice taking on a dark tone.

You look at his stony expression and dark eyes, nervous to ask but knowing you need to.

“Whose blood, then?” You ask softly, nerves tilting your voice.

“The targets. They were coming here for you. Had to stop them. They have been eliminated.” He explains, voice steely and darkened.

“You said I’m your mission. What do you mean?” You ask softly.

“Must protect you at all costs,” he explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why?” you probe, trying to understand.

“I don’t know. All I remember is fighting, getting a bad hit to the head, and then these men mentioned this address and your name. I knew I had to get here. I had to keep you safe.” Bucky tells you, openly.

You give Bucky a small smile, getting ready to thank him, before Bucky is jumping to his feet and grabbing your hands to pull you into a standing position. He begins to shove you down the hall quickly and into your shared bedroom.

“Huh? Bucky? What’s going on?” Questions fall from your lips as you don’t understand his sudden and urgent movements.

“Someone’s coming, you must hide,” he explains in a hushed voice, as he motions for you to get into your closet so he can shut you in to hide you.

You hear the front door open, and Sam’s voice echoing through the apartment, calling your name. Bucky grabs a knife from his holder and begins stalking his way towards his next target before you quickly grab his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Sam, it’s okay!” You call out, earning a betrayed look from bucky.

“Bucky, Sam is a good guy. On your side. He’s not a threat. He’s a friendly,” you explain softly, hoping he will trust you.

“Sometimes bad people appear good, маленький кролик” he tells you, unsure of Sam and still trying to gently push you back into the closet.

You reach out and grab Bucky’s hand, and reach up with your other hand to gently rest your hand on his jaw. He’s clearly taken by surprise, his eyes wide as they look to your face and then down to the hand gently holding his metal one. It confuses him. No one has ever in his memory regarded him with such softness, and had never volunteered to touch the weapon that is his metal arm.

“I would never lie to you, I promise Sam means no harm. I trust him with my life, and I trust him with yours almost every month when you guys are out on missions together,” your voice is gentle and honest as you hope Bucky will listen and trust you.

As he continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, the door to the bedroom slowly opens, revealing a surprised looking Sam.

Sam slowly steps into the room, holding his hands up to show Bucky he isn’t armed. Bucky quickly turns from you, hiding you effectively behind his back and broad shoulders, shielding you from any potential danger his mind thinks Sam may pose.

“Hey, man. What’s going on?” Sam asks, voice low but calm despite his worried expression as his eyes flicker to yours peeking around Bucky’s expansive frame.

“You were fighting by my side,” Bucky recalls out loud.

“Yes, yes I was. We’re on the same team.” Sam explains, lowering his outstretched hands to rest at his side.

“I’m missing time. I know I am. There are pictures here. Me and her, but I don’t remember. I knew I needed to keep her safe, but I don’t know why. Is it an order?” Bucky asks, sounding confused as his hand not holding the knife reaches up to rub his forehead.

“Is your head hurting?” You softly ask him, reaching up to rub his shoulder gently. Bucky welcomes the touch, surprising himself. He nods in answer to your question, despite himself.

“No, man. You don’t take orders anymore, you make them. We aren’t with hydra. We got you away. You were pardoned for the crimes those people forced you to commit. You help people now. You keep people safe..” Sam explains to Bucky.

“Okay, if all that’s true, it still doesn’t explain her?” Bucky says, moving away from his position of shielding you, instead turning so the three of you can look to each other.

“We’re together, Buck. We have been for a couple years now. We live here in this apartment, together, freely. You’re safe here. You’re safe with us. You’re safe with me,” you tell him, eyes wide as you look to him, longing to pull him into your arms and take away his confusion.

“Why am I missing time? All I remember is hydra. Working for them. The machines they used on me. I don’t remember any of this that you tell me. I remember my head hurting, and fighting next to you, and then knowing I had to get here and protect her.” Bucky questions, eyebrows furrowed and body still tense.

“This has happened in the past before, before you met her. We thought it was a one time thing. We’re now guessing if you take a hit to the head just right, right spot and right force, and this happens. It’ll work itself out after a good nights sleep while you heal. We already have some great scientists who want to help you working on a way to prevent this from happening again, so you don’t keep going through this,” Sam says to you both.

Bucky takes in what Sam said, nodding to himself and looking to you.

“Okay. I don’t know why, but I trust you both. I just need to sleep this off basically?” Bucky questions.

You and Sam both nod.

“Yeah, man. Just sleep it off. I’m going to stay here on the couch in the living room, just in case you need something.” Sam states, looking to you for your approval. You nod your head, reaching to your bed to grab an extra pillow and a blanket for him. Handing these to him, Sam nods in thanks and excuses himself to the living room.

“Well, let’s get you cleaned up” you find yourself saying. Moving to the closet and grabbing out Bucky’s most comfy pair of sweats and a soft t-shirt for him. You grab him a pair of boxers from the dresser quickly and turn back to lead him to the bathroom connected to your bedroom. He silently follows you. During this interaction you notice how purposefully loud in movement Bucky must normally be around you, as the dissociated soldier with you moves with a natural silence to a point it’s almost eerie. But, you think to yourself, that is a necessary part of the job he was tasked with for decades.

You wait in the bedroom after showing Bucky the bathroom and where the towels were. You find yourself lost in thought, once again hating what Bucky has gone through, and how a hit to the head sent him right back, at least partly. Bucky here wasn’t fully the winter soldier, but he wasn’t your Bucky either. Instead he was an odd mixture of the two.

After some minute pass, the bathroom door opens to reveal Bucky, looking cozy as ever in the large sweatpants and stretched out t-shirt you had given him. Even in such basic clothing, he still takes your breath away.

“Where do I sleep?” His husky voice softly questions.

“Here in the bed, I’ll sleep in the guest room sweetheart,” the endearment slips past your lips before you can stop it, making you look away and feel blood rising to your neck and cheeks in embarrassment.

“Please, don’t be embarrassed, маленький кролик. It’s nice, someone being kind to me. And you can sleep, with me, if you’d like. I understand that’s what we normally do, I don’t want you uncomfortable,” Bucky says, voice soft and beginning to become sleepy.

“Okay, if you’re sure that’s alright?” You ask, as you take off your oversized sweater to just leave yourself in your sleep shorts and one of Bucky’s baggy t-shirts.

“It’s fine doll,” a soft smile takes over his features as he walks closer to the bed.

You flip the covers over, climbing in and patting the empty side next to you, motioning for him to join you.

He walks over and sits on the bed next to you, pulling the covers over you both as you reach over and turn the bedside lamp off, leaving you both to get settled in the darkness. A few moments pass in silence as you both get comfortable under the covers

“Can I ask something?” He asks.

“Yeah, Buck?” You ask, turning to him. His features are lit by the moonlight pouring in through the windows.

“Will you be here? When I wake up? Normally when I go to sleep, I lose everything,” he asks you, your heart breaking at the uncertainty on his face.

You reach over and gently stroke his jaw, moving closer to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Of course. I’ll always be here, Buck.” You convey to him with absolute certainty in your voice, calming his fears.

As you find yourself drifting off to sleep, you feel a soft kiss pressed to your forehead.

“Thank you, маленький кролик”

Translations: маленький кролик - little bunny

[navybrat817]

Oh, the confusion and uncertainty he feels the missing chunks of time, but how he still goes to protect the reader. And the ease at being able to calm his fears. Sam, too. Beautiful! ❤️

[preciousbarnes]

Thank you so much!! I’m so glad you liked what I wrote, it means so much. Thanks for reading and sharing, and as always, much love💕

[preciousbarnes]

Here When I Wake

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags: Winter Soldier-ish!Bucky, Memory Loss, mentions of violence, comfort, fluff, Sam being a good friend

There’s a gentle breeze flowing into your small Brooklyn apartment from the open windows. The sun is setting in the west, illuminating the sky in shades of pinks and purples. The fading sunlight matches the dim vibe within the apartment, only illuminated by a couple lamps and some candles placed strategically on shelves, where Alpine couldn’t knock them down.

The light sound of an old jazz record from Bucky’s collection plays softly as you sway in the living room to the melodic tunes. It’s a peaceful evening; just you and Alpine together in the kitchen, as she always loved keeping you company when you were cooking.

You lose yourself in the repetition of cooking your favorite dish, before being interrupted by the sound of your cellphone ringing and vibrating on the kitchen counter. You pick up your phone and are surprised to see who is calling, Bucky’s partner, Sam.

“Sam?” You ask, confusion clear in your voice upon greeting him.

“Hey, listen, where are you?” Sam inquires urgently over the phone, out of breath and sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

“Um, home? In Buck and I’s apartment? Why?” You question, becoming more confused as you also feel concern creeping up on you. Why was Sam calling? He never called you.

“Something happened on the mission. Bucky experienced a head injury, and was triggered somehow. He’s not himself right now. We lost track of him outside of Manhattan. Stay where you are. I’m on my way to you now. We’re hoping maybe you can help us.” He explains quickly. You hear the sound of a car roaring to life before the line quickly drops off.

Your phone falls from you hand, hitting the floor. He wasn’t himself, which could only mean one thing. He wasn’t him. The winter soldier was back, and there’s no telling what he’s after, or what danger he’s getting himself into. You make quick work of finishing the dinner dish you had planned to share with Bucky, moving it to a storage container to save since having lost your appetite. There was no way you could eat right now when your stomach is a ball of nerves.

You’re washing up the dishes as a welcomed distraction when you suddenly get the feeling of eyes on you. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and your hands slightly tremble. Bucky always warned you about closing those damn windows that led to the fire escape.

You gently place the pan you were scrubbing back into the water, opting to grab the large kitchen knife out of the water before taking a deep breath and abruptly turning around.

You gasp, surprised at who is here. It’s Bucky, sitting in the shadows of your apartment, having blown out the candles and now his figure was barely lit by the one lamp on the stand next to your loveseat he was sat on. His eyes appraise you, glancing at the knife held tightly in your hand.

“You’re my mission” he says, his voice with a slight Russian accent you are not used to.

“Bucky? What’s going on?” You ask him, hesitantly after hearing him utter the word ‘mission’.

Bucky cocks his head to the side, his eyes taking in how you’ve relaxed since seeing him.

“Who is Bucky?” His voice huskily asks.

You swallow dryly, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. You set the knife back down into the dish water, grabbing a dish towel to dry your damp hands. His eyes never leave you, watching your every move. You don’t feel in danger of the man, knowing that if he wanted you dead in this state he could have killed you without you seeing it coming.

You turn back and slowly approach Bucky, before asking to sit next to him. He looks confused at your request.

“I’m an asset, why are you asking me?” He asks you, voice soft but showing his confusion.

“Here you always have choices. You can say no. Your comfort matters.” You explain to him, swallowing down emotions as you think of the times Bucky was tortured and treated horribly, given no choices or options.

He looks skeptical, but nods regardless, motioning for you to sit down with him. You sit down next to him gently, leaving a comfortable space between you both. As you take in his tense form, you notice blood on his dark pants, saturating one leg fully. You let out a gasp, reaching for him.

“What happened to your leg?” You ask quickly, moving to assess an injury before Bucky moves to the side out of your reach.

“Not my blood,” he explains, voice taking on a dark tone.

You look at his stony expression and dark eyes, nervous to ask but knowing you need to.

“Whose blood, then?” You ask softly, nerves tilting your voice.

“The targets. They were coming here for you. Had to stop them. They have been eliminated.” He explains, voice steely and darkened.

“You said I’m your mission. What do you mean?” You ask softly.

“Must protect you at all costs,” he explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why?” you probe, trying to understand.

“I don’t know. All I remember is fighting, getting a bad hit to the head, and then these men mentioned this address and your name. I knew I had to get here. I had to keep you safe.” Bucky tells you, openly.

You give Bucky a small smile, getting ready to thank him, before Bucky is jumping to his feet and grabbing your hands to pull you into a standing position. He begins to shove you down the hall quickly and into your shared bedroom.

“Huh? Bucky? What’s going on?” Questions fall from your lips as you don’t understand his sudden and urgent movements.

“Someone’s coming, you must hide,” he explains in a hushed voice, as he motions for you to get into your closet so he can shut you in to hide you.

You hear the front door open, and Sam’s voice echoing through the apartment, calling your name. Bucky grabs a knife from his holder and begins stalking his way towards his next target before you quickly grab his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Sam, it’s okay!” You call out, earning a betrayed look from bucky.

“Bucky, Sam is a good guy. On your side. He’s not a threat. He’s a friendly,” you explain softly, hoping he will trust you.

“Sometimes bad people appear good, маленький кролик” he tells you, unsure of Sam and still trying to gently push you back into the closet.

You reach out and grab Bucky’s hand, and reach up with your other hand to gently rest your hand on his jaw. He’s clearly taken by surprise, his eyes wide as they look to your face and then down to the hand gently holding his metal one. It confuses him. No one has ever in his memory regarded him with such softness, and had never volunteered to touch the weapon that is his metal arm.

“I would never lie to you, I promise Sam means no harm. I trust him with my life, and I trust him with yours almost every month when you guys are out on missions together,” your voice is gentle and honest as you hope Bucky will listen and trust you.

As he continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, the door to the bedroom slowly opens, revealing a surprised looking Sam.

Sam slowly steps into the room, holding his hands up to show Bucky he isn’t armed. Bucky quickly turns from you, hiding you effectively behind his back and broad shoulders, shielding you from any potential danger his mind thinks Sam may pose.

“Hey, man. What’s going on?” Sam asks, voice low but calm despite his worried expression as his eyes flicker to yours peeking around Bucky’s expansive frame.

“You were fighting by my side,” Bucky recalls out loud.

“Yes, yes I was. We’re on the same team.” Sam explains, lowering his outstretched hands to rest at his side.

“I’m missing time. I know I am. There are pictures here. Me and her, but I don’t remember. I knew I needed to keep her safe, but I don’t know why. Is it an order?” Bucky asks, sounding confused as his hand not holding the knife reaches up to rub his forehead.

“Is your head hurting?” You softly ask him, reaching up to rub his shoulder gently. Bucky welcomes the touch, surprising himself. He nods in answer to your question, despite himself.

“No, man. You don’t take orders anymore, you make them. We aren’t with hydra. We got you away. You were pardoned for the crimes those people forced you to commit. You help people now. You keep people safe..” Sam explains to Bucky.

“Okay, if all that’s true, it still doesn’t explain her?” Bucky says, moving away from his position of shielding you, instead turning so the three of you can look to each other.

“We’re together, Buck. We have been for a couple years now. We live here in this apartment, together, freely. You’re safe here. You’re safe with us. You’re safe with me,” you tell him, eyes wide as you look to him, longing to pull him into your arms and take away his confusion.

“Why am I missing time? All I remember is hydra. Working for them. The machines they used on me. I don’t remember any of this that you tell me. I remember my head hurting, and fighting next to you, and then knowing I had to get here and protect her.” Bucky questions, eyebrows furrowed and body still tense.

“This has happened in the past before, before you met her. We thought it was a one time thing. We’re now guessing if you take a hit to the head just right, right spot and right force, and this happens. It’ll work itself out after a good nights sleep while you heal. We already have some great scientists who want to help you working on a way to prevent this from happening again, so you don’t keep going through this,” Sam says to you both.

Bucky takes in what Sam said, nodding to himself and looking to you.

“Okay. I don’t know why, but I trust you both. I just need to sleep this off basically?” Bucky questions.

You and Sam both nod.

“Yeah, man. Just sleep it off. I’m going to stay here on the couch in the living room, just in case you need something.” Sam states, looking to you for your approval. You nod your head, reaching to your bed to grab an extra pillow and a blanket for him. Handing these to him, Sam nods in thanks and excuses himself to the living room.

“Well, let’s get you cleaned up” you find yourself saying. Moving to the closet and grabbing out Bucky’s most comfy pair of sweats and a soft t-shirt for him. You grab him a pair of boxers from the dresser quickly and turn back to lead him to the bathroom connected to your bedroom. He silently follows you. During this interaction you notice how purposefully loud in movement Bucky must normally be around you, as the dissociated soldier with you moves with a natural silence to a point it’s almost eerie. But, you think to yourself, that is a necessary part of the job he was tasked with for decades.

You wait in the bedroom after showing Bucky the bathroom and where the towels were. You find yourself lost in thought, once again hating what Bucky has gone through, and how a hit to the head sent him right back, at least partly. Bucky here wasn’t fully the winter soldier, but he wasn’t your Bucky either. Instead he was an odd mixture of the two.

After some minute pass, the bathroom door opens to reveal Bucky, looking cozy as ever in the large sweatpants and stretched out t-shirt you had given him. Even in such basic clothing, he still takes your breath away.

“Where do I sleep?” His husky voice softly questions.

“Here in the bed, I’ll sleep in the guest room sweetheart,” the endearment slips past your lips before you can stop it, making you look away and feel blood rising to your neck and cheeks in embarrassment.

“Please, don’t be embarrassed, маленький кролик. It’s nice, someone being kind to me. And you can sleep, with me, if you’d like. I understand that’s what we normally do, I don’t want you uncomfortable,” Bucky says, voice soft and beginning to become sleepy.

“Okay, if you’re sure that’s alright?” You ask, as you take off your oversized sweater to just leave yourself in your sleep shorts and one of Bucky’s baggy t-shirts.

“It’s fine doll,” a soft smile takes over his features as he walks closer to the bed.

You flip the covers over, climbing in and patting the empty side next to you, motioning for him to join you.

He walks over and sits on the bed next to you, pulling the covers over you both as you reach over and turn the bedside lamp off, leaving you both to get settled in the darkness. A few moments pass in silence as you both get comfortable under the covers

“Can I ask something?” He asks.

“Yeah, Buck?” You ask, turning to him. His features are lit by the moonlight pouring in through the windows.

“Will you be here? When I wake up? Normally when I go to sleep, I lose everything,” he asks you, your heart breaking at the uncertainty on his face.

You reach over and gently stroke his jaw, moving closer to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Of course. I’ll always be here, Buck.” You convey to him with absolute certainty in your voice, calming his fears.

As you find yourself drifting off to sleep, you feel a soft kiss pressed to your forehead.

“Thank you, маленький кролик”

Translations: маленький кролик - little bunny

[mlibbydp]

Omg, this destroys me in the best way.

[preciousbarnes]

I’m so so glad you enjoyed my lil fic! Thanks for reading and sharing!!❤️❤️❤️

[preciousbarnes]

Here When I Wake

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags: Winter Soldier-ish!Bucky, Memory Loss, mentions of violence, comfort, fluff, Sam being a good friend

There’s a gentle breeze flowing into your small Brooklyn apartment from the open windows. The sun is setting in the west, illuminating the sky in shades of pinks and purples. The fading sunlight matches the dim vibe within the apartment, only illuminated by a couple lamps and some candles placed strategically on shelves, where Alpine couldn’t knock them down.

The light sound of an old jazz record from Bucky’s collection plays softly as you sway in the living room to the melodic tunes. It’s a peaceful evening; just you and Alpine together in the kitchen, as she always loved keeping you company when you were cooking.

You lose yourself in the repetition of cooking your favorite dish, before being interrupted by the sound of your cellphone ringing and vibrating on the kitchen counter. You pick up your phone and are surprised to see who is calling, Bucky’s partner, Sam.

“Sam?” You ask, confusion clear in your voice upon greeting him.

“Hey, listen, where are you?” Sam inquires urgently over the phone, out of breath and sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

“Um, home? In Buck and I’s apartment? Why?” You question, becoming more confused as you also feel concern creeping up on you. Why was Sam calling? He never called you.

“Something happened on the mission. Bucky experienced a head injury, and was triggered somehow. He’s not himself right now. We lost track of him outside of Manhattan. Stay where you are. I’m on my way to you now. We’re hoping maybe you can help us.” He explains quickly. You hear the sound of a car roaring to life before the line quickly drops off.

Your phone falls from you hand, hitting the floor. He wasn’t himself, which could only mean one thing. He wasn’t him. The winter soldier was back, and there’s no telling what he’s after, or what danger he’s getting himself into. You make quick work of finishing the dinner dish you had planned to share with Bucky, moving it to a storage container to save since having lost your appetite. There was no way you could eat right now when your stomach is a ball of nerves.

You’re washing up the dishes as a welcomed distraction when you suddenly get the feeling of eyes on you. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and your hands slightly tremble. Bucky always warned you about closing those damn windows that led to the fire escape.

You gently place the pan you were scrubbing back into the water, opting to grab the large kitchen knife out of the water before taking a deep breath and abruptly turning around.

You gasp, surprised at who is here. It’s Bucky, sitting in the shadows of your apartment, having blown out the candles and now his figure was barely lit by the one lamp on the stand next to your loveseat he was sat on. His eyes appraise you, glancing at the knife held tightly in your hand.

“You’re my mission” he says, his voice with a slight Russian accent you are not used to.

“Bucky? What’s going on?” You ask him, hesitantly after hearing him utter the word ‘mission’.

Bucky cocks his head to the side, his eyes taking in how you’ve relaxed since seeing him.

“Who is Bucky?” His voice huskily asks.

You swallow dryly, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. You set the knife back down into the dish water, grabbing a dish towel to dry your damp hands. His eyes never leave you, watching your every move. You don’t feel in danger of the man, knowing that if he wanted you dead in this state he could have killed you without you seeing it coming.

You turn back and slowly approach Bucky, before asking to sit next to him. He looks confused at your request.

“I’m an asset, why are you asking me?” He asks you, voice soft but showing his confusion.

“Here you always have choices. You can say no. Your comfort matters.” You explain to him, swallowing down emotions as you think of the times Bucky was tortured and treated horribly, given no choices or options.

He looks skeptical, but nods regardless, motioning for you to sit down with him. You sit down next to him gently, leaving a comfortable space between you both. As you take in his tense form, you notice blood on his dark pants, saturating one leg fully. You let out a gasp, reaching for him.

“What happened to your leg?” You ask quickly, moving to assess an injury before Bucky moves to the side out of your reach.

“Not my blood,” he explains, voice taking on a dark tone.

You look at his stony expression and dark eyes, nervous to ask but knowing you need to.

“Whose blood, then?” You ask softly, nerves tilting your voice.

“The targets. They were coming here for you. Had to stop them. They have been eliminated.” He explains, voice steely and darkened.

“You said I’m your mission. What do you mean?” You ask softly.

“Must protect you at all costs,” he explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why?” you probe, trying to understand.

“I don’t know. All I remember is fighting, getting a bad hit to the head, and then these men mentioned this address and your name. I knew I had to get here. I had to keep you safe.” Bucky tells you, openly.

You give Bucky a small smile, getting ready to thank him, before Bucky is jumping to his feet and grabbing your hands to pull you into a standing position. He begins to shove you down the hall quickly and into your shared bedroom.

“Huh? Bucky? What’s going on?” Questions fall from your lips as you don’t understand his sudden and urgent movements.

“Someone’s coming, you must hide,” he explains in a hushed voice, as he motions for you to get into your closet so he can shut you in to hide you.

You hear the front door open, and Sam’s voice echoing through the apartment, calling your name. Bucky grabs a knife from his holder and begins stalking his way towards his next target before you quickly grab his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Sam, it’s okay!” You call out, earning a betrayed look from bucky.

“Bucky, Sam is a good guy. On your side. He’s not a threat. He’s a friendly,” you explain softly, hoping he will trust you.

“Sometimes bad people appear good, маленький кролик” he tells you, unsure of Sam and still trying to gently push you back into the closet.

You reach out and grab Bucky’s hand, and reach up with your other hand to gently rest your hand on his jaw. He’s clearly taken by surprise, his eyes wide as they look to your face and then down to the hand gently holding his metal one. It confuses him. No one has ever in his memory regarded him with such softness, and had never volunteered to touch the weapon that is his metal arm.

“I would never lie to you, I promise Sam means no harm. I trust him with my life, and I trust him with yours almost every month when you guys are out on missions together,” your voice is gentle and honest as you hope Bucky will listen and trust you.

As he continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, the door to the bedroom slowly opens, revealing a surprised looking Sam.

Sam slowly steps into the room, holding his hands up to show Bucky he isn’t armed. Bucky quickly turns from you, hiding you effectively behind his back and broad shoulders, shielding you from any potential danger his mind thinks Sam may pose.

“Hey, man. What’s going on?” Sam asks, voice low but calm despite his worried expression as his eyes flicker to yours peeking around Bucky’s expansive frame.

“You were fighting by my side,” Bucky recalls out loud.

“Yes, yes I was. We’re on the same team.” Sam explains, lowering his outstretched hands to rest at his side.

“I’m missing time. I know I am. There are pictures here. Me and her, but I don’t remember. I knew I needed to keep her safe, but I don’t know why. Is it an order?” Bucky asks, sounding confused as his hand not holding the knife reaches up to rub his forehead.

“Is your head hurting?” You softly ask him, reaching up to rub his shoulder gently. Bucky welcomes the touch, surprising himself. He nods in answer to your question, despite himself.

“No, man. You don’t take orders anymore, you make them. We aren’t with hydra. We got you away. You were pardoned for the crimes those people forced you to commit. You help people now. You keep people safe..” Sam explains to Bucky.

“Okay, if all that’s true, it still doesn’t explain her?” Bucky says, moving away from his position of shielding you, instead turning so the three of you can look to each other.

“We’re together, Buck. We have been for a couple years now. We live here in this apartment, together, freely. You’re safe here. You’re safe with us. You’re safe with me,” you tell him, eyes wide as you look to him, longing to pull him into your arms and take away his confusion.

“Why am I missing time? All I remember is hydra. Working for them. The machines they used on me. I don’t remember any of this that you tell me. I remember my head hurting, and fighting next to you, and then knowing I had to get here and protect her.” Bucky questions, eyebrows furrowed and body still tense.

“This has happened in the past before, before you met her. We thought it was a one time thing. We’re now guessing if you take a hit to the head just right, right spot and right force, and this happens. It’ll work itself out after a good nights sleep while you heal. We already have some great scientists who want to help you working on a way to prevent this from happening again, so you don’t keep going through this,” Sam says to you both.

Bucky takes in what Sam said, nodding to himself and looking to you.

“Okay. I don’t know why, but I trust you both. I just need to sleep this off basically?” Bucky questions.

You and Sam both nod.

“Yeah, man. Just sleep it off. I’m going to stay here on the couch in the living room, just in case you need something.” Sam states, looking to you for your approval. You nod your head, reaching to your bed to grab an extra pillow and a blanket for him. Handing these to him, Sam nods in thanks and excuses himself to the living room.

“Well, let’s get you cleaned up” you find yourself saying. Moving to the closet and grabbing out Bucky’s most comfy pair of sweats and a soft t-shirt for him. You grab him a pair of boxers from the dresser quickly and turn back to lead him to the bathroom connected to your bedroom. He silently follows you. During this interaction you notice how purposefully loud in movement Bucky must normally be around you, as the dissociated soldier with you moves with a natural silence to a point it’s almost eerie. But, you think to yourself, that is a necessary part of the job he was tasked with for decades.

You wait in the bedroom after showing Bucky the bathroom and where the towels were. You find yourself lost in thought, once again hating what Bucky has gone through, and how a hit to the head sent him right back, at least partly. Bucky here wasn’t fully the winter soldier, but he wasn’t your Bucky either. Instead he was an odd mixture of the two.

After some minute pass, the bathroom door opens to reveal Bucky, looking cozy as ever in the large sweatpants and stretched out t-shirt you had given him. Even in such basic clothing, he still takes your breath away.

“Where do I sleep?” His husky voice softly questions.

“Here in the bed, I’ll sleep in the guest room sweetheart,” the endearment slips past your lips before you can stop it, making you look away and feel blood rising to your neck and cheeks in embarrassment.

“Please, don’t be embarrassed, маленький кролик. It’s nice, someone being kind to me. And you can sleep, with me, if you’d like. I understand that’s what we normally do, I don’t want you uncomfortable,” Bucky says, voice soft and beginning to become sleepy.

“Okay, if you’re sure that’s alright?” You ask, as you take off your oversized sweater to just leave yourself in your sleep shorts and one of Bucky’s baggy t-shirts.

“It’s fine doll,” a soft smile takes over his features as he walks closer to the bed.

You flip the covers over, climbing in and patting the empty side next to you, motioning for him to join you.

He walks over and sits on the bed next to you, pulling the covers over you both as you reach over and turn the bedside lamp off, leaving you both to get settled in the darkness. A few moments pass in silence as you both get comfortable under the covers

“Can I ask something?” He asks.

“Yeah, Buck?” You ask, turning to him. His features are lit by the moonlight pouring in through the windows.

“Will you be here? When I wake up? Normally when I go to sleep, I lose everything,” he asks you, your heart breaking at the uncertainty on his face.

You reach over and gently stroke his jaw, moving closer to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Of course. I’ll always be here, Buck.” You convey to him with absolute certainty in your voice, calming his fears.

As you find yourself drifting off to sleep, you feel a soft kiss pressed to your forehead.

“Thank you, маленький кролик”

Translations: маленький кролик - little bunny

[just-another-writer-05-deactiva]

tearing up and laying on the floor sobbing

[preciousbarnes]

I’m like oh no don’t cry🥺 but also feel so proud my lil silly writings can make an emotional impact☺️ thanks for reading and sharing!! Much love💞

[preciousbarnes]

Here When I Wake

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags: Winter Soldier-ish!Bucky, Memory Loss, mentions of violence, comfort, fluff, Sam being a good friend

There’s a gentle breeze flowing into your small Brooklyn apartment from the open windows. The sun is setting in the west, illuminating the sky in shades of pinks and purples. The fading sunlight matches the dim vibe within the apartment, only illuminated by a couple lamps and some candles placed strategically on shelves, where Alpine couldn’t knock them down.

The light sound of an old jazz record from Bucky’s collection plays softly as you sway in the living room to the melodic tunes. It’s a peaceful evening; just you and Alpine together in the kitchen, as she always loved keeping you company when you were cooking.

You lose yourself in the repetition of cooking your favorite dish, before being interrupted by the sound of your cellphone ringing and vibrating on the kitchen counter. You pick up your phone and are surprised to see who is calling, Bucky’s partner, Sam.

“Sam?” You ask, confusion clear in your voice upon greeting him.

“Hey, listen, where are you?” Sam inquires urgently over the phone, out of breath and sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

“Um, home? In Buck and I’s apartment? Why?” You question, becoming more confused as you also feel concern creeping up on you. Why was Sam calling? He never called you.

“Something happened on the mission. Bucky experienced a head injury, and was triggered somehow. He’s not himself right now. We lost track of him outside of Manhattan. Stay where you are. I’m on my way to you now. We’re hoping maybe you can help us.” He explains quickly. You hear the sound of a car roaring to life before the line quickly drops off.

Your phone falls from you hand, hitting the floor. He wasn’t himself, which could only mean one thing. He wasn’t him. The winter soldier was back, and there’s no telling what he’s after, or what danger he’s getting himself into. You make quick work of finishing the dinner dish you had planned to share with Bucky, moving it to a storage container to save since having lost your appetite. There was no way you could eat right now when your stomach is a ball of nerves.

You’re washing up the dishes as a welcomed distraction when you suddenly get the feeling of eyes on you. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and your hands slightly tremble. Bucky always warned you about closing those damn windows that led to the fire escape.

You gently place the pan you were scrubbing back into the water, opting to grab the large kitchen knife out of the water before taking a deep breath and abruptly turning around.

You gasp, surprised at who is here. It’s Bucky, sitting in the shadows of your apartment, having blown out the candles and now his figure was barely lit by the one lamp on the stand next to your loveseat he was sat on. His eyes appraise you, glancing at the knife held tightly in your hand.

“You’re my mission” he says, his voice with a slight Russian accent you are not used to.

“Bucky? What’s going on?” You ask him, hesitantly after hearing him utter the word ‘mission’.

Bucky cocks his head to the side, his eyes taking in how you’ve relaxed since seeing him.

“Who is Bucky?” His voice huskily asks.

You swallow dryly, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. You set the knife back down into the dish water, grabbing a dish towel to dry your damp hands. His eyes never leave you, watching your every move. You don’t feel in danger of the man, knowing that if he wanted you dead in this state he could have killed you without you seeing it coming.

You turn back and slowly approach Bucky, before asking to sit next to him. He looks confused at your request.

“I’m an asset, why are you asking me?” He asks you, voice soft but showing his confusion.

“Here you always have choices. You can say no. Your comfort matters.” You explain to him, swallowing down emotions as you think of the times Bucky was tortured and treated horribly, given no choices or options.

He looks skeptical, but nods regardless, motioning for you to sit down with him. You sit down next to him gently, leaving a comfortable space between you both. As you take in his tense form, you notice blood on his dark pants, saturating one leg fully. You let out a gasp, reaching for him.

“What happened to your leg?” You ask quickly, moving to assess an injury before Bucky moves to the side out of your reach.

“Not my blood,” he explains, voice taking on a dark tone.

You look at his stony expression and dark eyes, nervous to ask but knowing you need to.

“Whose blood, then?” You ask softly, nerves tilting your voice.

“The targets. They were coming here for you. Had to stop them. They have been eliminated.” He explains, voice steely and darkened.

“You said I’m your mission. What do you mean?” You ask softly.

“Must protect you at all costs,” he explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why?” you probe, trying to understand.

“I don’t know. All I remember is fighting, getting a bad hit to the head, and then these men mentioned this address and your name. I knew I had to get here. I had to keep you safe.” Bucky tells you, openly.

You give Bucky a small smile, getting ready to thank him, before Bucky is jumping to his feet and grabbing your hands to pull you into a standing position. He begins to shove you down the hall quickly and into your shared bedroom.

“Huh? Bucky? What’s going on?” Questions fall from your lips as you don’t understand his sudden and urgent movements.

“Someone’s coming, you must hide,” he explains in a hushed voice, as he motions for you to get into your closet so he can shut you in to hide you.

You hear the front door open, and Sam’s voice echoing through the apartment, calling your name. Bucky grabs a knife from his holder and begins stalking his way towards his next target before you quickly grab his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Sam, it’s okay!” You call out, earning a betrayed look from bucky.

“Bucky, Sam is a good guy. On your side. He’s not a threat. He’s a friendly,” you explain softly, hoping he will trust you.

“Sometimes bad people appear good, маленький кролик” he tells you, unsure of Sam and still trying to gently push you back into the closet.

You reach out and grab Bucky’s hand, and reach up with your other hand to gently rest your hand on his jaw. He’s clearly taken by surprise, his eyes wide as they look to your face and then down to the hand gently holding his metal one. It confuses him. No one has ever in his memory regarded him with such softness, and had never volunteered to touch the weapon that is his metal arm.

“I would never lie to you, I promise Sam means no harm. I trust him with my life, and I trust him with yours almost every month when you guys are out on missions together,” your voice is gentle and honest as you hope Bucky will listen and trust you.

As he continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, the door to the bedroom slowly opens, revealing a surprised looking Sam.

Sam slowly steps into the room, holding his hands up to show Bucky he isn’t armed. Bucky quickly turns from you, hiding you effectively behind his back and broad shoulders, shielding you from any potential danger his mind thinks Sam may pose.

“Hey, man. What’s going on?” Sam asks, voice low but calm despite his worried expression as his eyes flicker to yours peeking around Bucky’s expansive frame.

“You were fighting by my side,” Bucky recalls out loud.

“Yes, yes I was. We’re on the same team.” Sam explains, lowering his outstretched hands to rest at his side.

“I’m missing time. I know I am. There are pictures here. Me and her, but I don’t remember. I knew I needed to keep her safe, but I don’t know why. Is it an order?” Bucky asks, sounding confused as his hand not holding the knife reaches up to rub his forehead.

“Is your head hurting?” You softly ask him, reaching up to rub his shoulder gently. Bucky welcomes the touch, surprising himself. He nods in answer to your question, despite himself.

“No, man. You don’t take orders anymore, you make them. We aren’t with hydra. We got you away. You were pardoned for the crimes those people forced you to commit. You help people now. You keep people safe..” Sam explains to Bucky.

“Okay, if all that’s true, it still doesn’t explain her?” Bucky says, moving away from his position of shielding you, instead turning so the three of you can look to each other.

“We’re together, Buck. We have been for a couple years now. We live here in this apartment, together, freely. You’re safe here. You’re safe with us. You’re safe with me,” you tell him, eyes wide as you look to him, longing to pull him into your arms and take away his confusion.

“Why am I missing time? All I remember is hydra. Working for them. The machines they used on me. I don’t remember any of this that you tell me. I remember my head hurting, and fighting next to you, and then knowing I had to get here and protect her.” Bucky questions, eyebrows furrowed and body still tense.

“This has happened in the past before, before you met her. We thought it was a one time thing. We’re now guessing if you take a hit to the head just right, right spot and right force, and this happens. It’ll work itself out after a good nights sleep while you heal. We already have some great scientists who want to help you working on a way to prevent this from happening again, so you don’t keep going through this,” Sam says to you both.

Bucky takes in what Sam said, nodding to himself and looking to you.

“Okay. I don’t know why, but I trust you both. I just need to sleep this off basically?” Bucky questions.

You and Sam both nod.

“Yeah, man. Just sleep it off. I’m going to stay here on the couch in the living room, just in case you need something.” Sam states, looking to you for your approval. You nod your head, reaching to your bed to grab an extra pillow and a blanket for him. Handing these to him, Sam nods in thanks and excuses himself to the living room.

“Well, let’s get you cleaned up” you find yourself saying. Moving to the closet and grabbing out Bucky’s most comfy pair of sweats and a soft t-shirt for him. You grab him a pair of boxers from the dresser quickly and turn back to lead him to the bathroom connected to your bedroom. He silently follows you. During this interaction you notice how purposefully loud in movement Bucky must normally be around you, as the dissociated soldier with you moves with a natural silence to a point it’s almost eerie. But, you think to yourself, that is a necessary part of the job he was tasked with for decades.

You wait in the bedroom after showing Bucky the bathroom and where the towels were. You find yourself lost in thought, once again hating what Bucky has gone through, and how a hit to the head sent him right back, at least partly. Bucky here wasn’t fully the winter soldier, but he wasn’t your Bucky either. Instead he was an odd mixture of the two.

After some minute pass, the bathroom door opens to reveal Bucky, looking cozy as ever in the large sweatpants and stretched out t-shirt you had given him. Even in such basic clothing, he still takes your breath away.

“Where do I sleep?” His husky voice softly questions.

“Here in the bed, I’ll sleep in the guest room sweetheart,” the endearment slips past your lips before you can stop it, making you look away and feel blood rising to your neck and cheeks in embarrassment.

“Please, don’t be embarrassed, маленький кролик. It’s nice, someone being kind to me. And you can sleep, with me, if you’d like. I understand that’s what we normally do, I don’t want you uncomfortable,” Bucky says, voice soft and beginning to become sleepy.

“Okay, if you’re sure that’s alright?” You ask, as you take off your oversized sweater to just leave yourself in your sleep shorts and one of Bucky’s baggy t-shirts.

“It’s fine doll,” a soft smile takes over his features as he walks closer to the bed.

You flip the covers over, climbing in and patting the empty side next to you, motioning for him to join you.

He walks over and sits on the bed next to you, pulling the covers over you both as you reach over and turn the bedside lamp off, leaving you both to get settled in the darkness. A few moments pass in silence as you both get comfortable under the covers

“Can I ask something?” He asks.

“Yeah, Buck?” You ask, turning to him. His features are lit by the moonlight pouring in through the windows.

“Will you be here? When I wake up? Normally when I go to sleep, I lose everything,” he asks you, your heart breaking at the uncertainty on his face.

You reach over and gently stroke his jaw, moving closer to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Of course. I’ll always be here, Buck.” You convey to him with absolute certainty in your voice, calming his fears.

As you find yourself drifting off to sleep, you feel a soft kiss pressed to your forehead.

“Thank you, маленький кролик”

Translations: маленький кролик - little bunny

[povlvr]

This boy deserves the world. Loved this!! ❤️❤️

[preciousbarnes]

Thank you so much for reading and giving feedback! Much love 💕

[ramen-flavored]

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Him