Status : Complete
Rating : R (18+ only, minors DNI)
Plot Summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.
SERIES MASTER LIST
(Once Bitten) Twice Shy
Status : Complete
Rating : R (18+ only, minors DNI)
Plot Summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.
SERIES MASTERLIST
Love, Sick Love
Status : Complete
Rating : R (18+ only, minors DNI)
Plot Summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well
Chapter List :
SERIES MASTERLIST
The Red Ribbon
Status : Complete
Rating : R (18+ only, minors DNI)
Plot Summary : By day you’re Billy Russo’s clumsy PA, but by night you’re a host at New York City’s most exclusive gentlemen's club. At The Red Ribbon everyone is anonymous and masks conceal the identities of patrons and hosts alike. But your two lives are about to collide and Billy Russo is about to see a whole new side of you without even realising it...
Chapter List :
SERIES MASTERLIST
(It Is) What It Is
Status : Complete
Rating : R (18+ only, minors DNI)
Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.
SERIES MASTERLIST
Staking A Claim
Status : Complete
Rating : R (18+ only, minors DNI)
Plot Summary : Your life isn't going great; you're having doubts about law school, your job sucks, and you've finally just broken up with your cheating boyfriend. So, the last thing you need is to wake up in bed with an attractive, older alpha with no memory of the night before and a sinking suspicion that your whole life is about to change...
SERIES MASTERLIST
Need vs Want
Status : Complete
Rating : R (18+ only, minors DNI)
Plot Summary : Billy Russo is tired of playing the dating game, so he decides to try and find his perfect match online with a very specific ad. When you respond, it quickly becomes clear that you're everything he wants, but is he what you need?
SERIES MASTERLIST
500 Follower Celebration Masterlist
2025 Smutober Masterlist
BUCKY BARNES FICS
Devotion & Desire
Status : Complete
Rating : R (18+ only, minors DNI)
Plot Summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?
SERIES MASTERLIST
Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?
Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 6.2k
A/N : this is my first time writing Bucky and writing omegaverse, sorry if anything doesn't meet the usual standards of the genre.
MASTER LIST
Chapter One
You were shivering and he hated what that did to him.
Soaked clothes clung to your figure, leaving nothing to the imagination and betraying every little shiver.
He watched you fumble with your soaked purse for your phone, and heard your frustration a moment later as your call quickly cut out. You shook it, wiped the wet screen on your damp blouse, but he knew that wasn’t going to help matters. Judging from the state of you, the phone was waterlogged and you’d be lucky to get it working again.
You leaned back against your apartment door, kicking it with your heel, letting out the weakest string of cuss words he’d ever heard. It was almost adorable.
All the while, he was pressed against his apartment door, eye to the peephole, watching it all unfold. It wasn’t so much that he was spying on you. No, Bucky liked to think that he was making your life easier. You were such a timid little thing and, ever since you’d moved in across the hall, he’d done everything he could to be a good alpha and not make you uncomfortable.
He’d seen how skittish you were the first time your paths had crossed; him leaving his apartment, just as you were getting home from the grocery store, shock causing you to fumble and drop your bags. You’d barely been able to maintain eye contact as he handed you your Cookie Crunch cereal.
Of course, he didn’t hold it against you - how could he? You were an omega with no reason to trust him, and he knew it couldn’t be easy for you; being the only omega in the building, living across from the only alpha.
So, he’d taken to keeping an eye on you, making sure there were no more accidental meetings in the hallway and that you had no reason to fear him.
But now you were shivering and soaked from the storm raging outside, no coat over the blouse-skirt uniform you wore to work at Gracie’s diner. Had you walked three blocks in the rain without an umbrella? Hadn’t anyone tried to stop you? He found himself overwhelmed by the urge to help you, protect you and, before he realised he was doing it, he was slowly opening the door.
He couldn’t leave you out there, cold and shivering.
Your eyes widened and you shrank back a little. Bucky tried his best to give a friendly smile, making sure not to make any sudden moves or get any closer.
“Hey,” he said softly, “are you okay?”
“I -” your voice came out barely more than a shy whisper, “- I got locked out.”
“Did you call Glenn?” He asked, even though he knew you couldn’t, even though he knew your phone had died before you’d managed to get through to the building manager.
“My phone died,” you told him, holding it up as if you thought he might not believe you.
“Do you want me to call him for you?” He asked and you gave a timid nod. For a second he looked ready to turn and head back into his apartment for his phone, but then he saw you pull your arms around yourself, trembling even more violently. “Do you want to come in and get warm while you wait?”
He watched your eyes drop and let you take a few seconds to consider your options. It was late, far too late to go disturbing any of your beta neighbours and, he knew just how easy it was for omegas like you to get sick.
After a few seconds, you nodded.
“Okay,” he said softly, stepping back, giving you space to move into his apartment.
Your arms wrapped tighter around your body as you stepped over the threshold. He watched your nose twitch, obviously feeling a little overwhelmed by his scent.
“It’s okay,” he tried to reassure you as he slowly shut the door, “you’re safe, I promise. Wait here, I’ll grab you something warm.”
He didn’t wait for you to answer before quickly moving further into his apartment, heading into his bedroom. He was already starting to understand why the other residents of the building had taken to calling you little mouse. It turned his stomach upside down to think about how apprehensive you were and what might have happened to you to cause it.
You were still in the exact spot where he’d left you, still trembling and hugging yourself tight, clothes dripping on the carpet. (Though he quickly regretted looking down and seeing the way the drips from your clothes were running down your bare legs to your little white socks.)
“Here, you can borrow these,” he told you, handing you a dark hoodie and pair of sweatpants. “They might be a little big, but they’re warm.”
After taking them, you were ushered into the bathroom to dry yourself off and change, while he went to call the building manager. And, when you reemerged five minutes later, it took every ounce of restraint he had not to laugh at the sight of you, drowning in his clothes. He gave you space, waving a hand towards the sofa, indicating that you could sit if you wanted to.
You took a seat, peached on the very edge of the sofa.
“I’m Bucky, by the way,” he told you, realising that you hadn’t been officially introduced, even though he was sure you already knew his name like he knew yours.
You responded with your own name, then; “thank you for helping me.”
“That’s okay,” he replied before taking a very obvious pause, giving you an uncertain look. “I have some bad news though; it’s Glenn’s night off. He won’t be back until the morning.”
“Oh.”
He watched as you glanced around nervously.
“I told him you could stay here,” Bucky told you. You both knew that you didn’t have any other choice, so you didn’t bother to try and argue. All you offered was a little nod. “Are you hungry? I was gonna order a pizza.”
“I - I like pizza,” you told him, managing to force a smile to your lips.
It took some coaxing from him, but he found out what pizza you liked and ordered it. Then he put the TV on for you, there was some weird baking program on but you seemed happy enough with it, so he left it on. If anything, the background noise seemed to settle you a little and, after a while, you finally sat back on the sofa, almost disappearing in his hoodie.
“Are you warm enough?” He asked when he noticed you pulling the hood up and snuggling into it.
“I am now.”
Bucky let out a soft laugh, the sort of sound he didn’t make very often and you caught him looking at you with a gentle sort of smile. He couldn’t help it, there was just something so cute about you in that moment, though he almost felt bad the moment he noticed you shyly start to chew on your lip.
“So,” he started, not sure what he wanted to ask, just wanting to make conversation and hopefully set you a little more at ease with him, “what made you move here?”
“After the blip I was staying in an omega-only building, but when everyone came back, the building’s original owner put up the rent,” you shrugged.
He gave a knowing nod. It wasn’t easy for omegas, while there were laws to protect them against discrimination, because of their monthly heat cycles and how prone they were to getting sick, it was hard for them to hold down well-paid jobs. He assumed that was why you worked at the diner, where shifts could be planned and swapped easily.
“I guess it must be weird for you living here with mostly betas... and me...”
While he knew what it was like for him to have to live across the hall from you, he could only imagine how it felt for you. Alphas tended to learn at a young age to control themselves and to ignore day to day stimulus, but he knew omega’s had it worse, that their senses were heightened beyond even alphas. He’d catch your scent in the hallway from time to time, and he was certain you’d catch his.
“It’s okay. Everyone’s been really nice, and -” you hesitated shyly, “- and you’re being nice now.”
He didn’t ask what you meant by now. Bucky knew better than anyone what he could be like, how his gruff, withdrawn and sarcastic attitude could make people uncomfortable.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been around an omega, and I -”
A sudden knock that the door startled you enough to make Bucky wince, completely losing his train of thought. He gave you an uncomfortable look before standing and heading to the door, muttering about how it must be the pizza.
Five minutes later, you were both sitting on his sofa, eating pizza. He made awkward small talk, asking if the food was okay, telling you a little about the pizzeria and how he’d found it a couple of months back and, little by little, your responses got slightly less reluctant. Eventually, you seemed to realise that you were safe and that he wasn’t going to hurt you. He wasn’t sure when or why that became important to him, but the last thing he wanted was for you to feel unsafe around him.
Life had to be hard enough for a lone omega without your alpha neighbour making it worse. And, besides, surely it would be easier for the both of you if you weren’t constantly jumping at each other’s shadows.
Before he could say anything, he noticed you looking at his vibranium hand. Or rather, trying really hard not to look at his hand. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that he wasn’t wearing his gloves - why would he when he was sitting on his own sofa?
“It’s okay,” he said, shrugging, “you can ask.”
Shame flashed on your face and he could tell you were uncomfortable. “Did you have an accident?”
“Yeah, a very long time ago.”
“Oh, well... I’m glad you’re okay...”
For a moment he felt his lips almost pull into a smile, any discomfort he’d felt instantly washing away with your words.
“I, uh, heard you like to draw?” It came out more like a question and had you looking at him seeming a little confused.
“Yeah, a little,” you answered. “I’m not very good though. Who told you?”
“Nikki from downstairs,” he explained and you gave a little nod. “Her and Jade really seem to like you, they’re always talking about you.”
It made you smile, and that smile settled him a little. It was going better than he’d dared to hope and you no longer seemed afraid of him. In fact, you started volunteering information without being prompted.
“They’ve both been really nice,” you told him, “they asked me to go out with them on Friday when I get off work.”
He smiled. “Girls night out?”
“Yeah, though... well, it’s been a really long time since I went on a night out...”
Bucky gave a knowing nod, knowing it probably wasn’t easy for you as an unclaimed omega.
“I’m sure Niikki and Jade will look out for you,” he reassured you.
Conversation from there got a little easier; he told you that he grew up in Brooklyn and that he’d been in the army, and you told him about work and how you’d seen him in Gracie’s Diner a couple of times. You’d never served him, Gracie had rules about that. She was an elderly, take-no-shit sort of woman, and was one of the few employers you’d come across who genuinely went out of her way to look out for the omega’s working for her.
After the conversation reached a natural conclusion, Bucky got up, gathering the dirty plates and the pizza box, and headed for the kitchen. He didn’t even realise that you’d followed after until he turned to find you standing there, and almost jumped out of his skin.
“Sorry,” you almost recoiled at his shock, “I just - can I have a glass of water?”
He looked at you for a moment, completely taken aback - it wasn’t often that anyone managed to sneak up on him - then he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.
“Yeah sure,” he handed you a glass, biting back a laugh, “now I get when they call you mouse, you’re so quiet.”
You let out a little laugh, shyly dropping your gaze as you moved around him to the sink. Bucky bit his lip, catching your scent as you stepped past him, and he instantly hated himself for how much he enjoyed your sweet smell.
His eyes followed you as you returned to the sofa, took a drink, and then let out the cutest little yawn he’d ever seen.
“Tired?” He asked, moving back towards you, but not sitting down.
“A little,” you shrug. “The dinner rush at Gracie’s was really hectic.”
He gave an understanding nod before starting to think about the sleeping arrangements. Under normal circumstances, he might have offered you his bed but, even if he changed the sheets that he rarely slept on, he was certain being in his bedroom would overwhelm your omega senses.
“I can get you some bedding and you can sleep on the sofa?” He offered, looking at you and then looking at the sofa, certain it was big enough for you to get a comfortable night’s sleep.
You glanced at your watch, seeming almost embarrassed when you realised it was only 10pm.
“You don’t have to yet -” you started to protest.
“It’s fine, really,” Bucky told you with a gentle smile.
You gave a couple more weak protests as he went to grab you some pillows and a blanket, but you still got to your feet and helped him set up a little makeshift bed on the sofa for you. He then paused, taking in the sight of you, drowning in his clothes.
“Are you gonna be warm enough?”
At just the mention you seemed to snuggle further into his oversized hoodie.
“I’ll be fine,” you said with a sweet smile before fighting back another yawn. “Thank you, Bucky.”
After some awkward shuffling about, making sure you had everything you needed, telling you to help yourself if you needed another drink, and giving you the TV remote, Bucky finally left you to get some sleep.
He felt awful for making you sleep on the sofa, but there was really no way you would have been comfortable in his room. It was still early, at least by his standards, but he grabbed his sheet and pillow and settled himself on the floor by the window, content to read for a few hours before trying to get some sleep.
He didn’t stir until around 2am a hazy nightmare ripping him from sleep. For a few minutes he sat, trying to calm his racing heart before realising that he needed to use the bathroom, and that was going to mean sneaking past you.
It took ten minutes for him to build up the nerve to try to sneak to the bathroom without disturbing you. Moving slowly, he crept from his bedroom and slowly made his way through the den towards the bathroom, but he couldn’t help but stop and look at your sleeping form. Somehow you seemed even smaller when you were sleeping, tightly curled up on your side, your face hidden somewhere in the hood of his hoodie.
For a few seconds, he lingered, listening to the soft sound of your breathing before starting to feel a little bit creepy, but it was nothing compared to how he felt when he finally reached the bathroom.
Once the door was closed and locked behind him, he was immediately overwhelmed by your sweet scent left on the towel you’d used to dry yourself and the damp clothes you’d left neatly folded on the radiator. He hated himself for the way his cock twitched and the way he lifted the towel to his nose.
Your scent stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt in years, a sort of longing that left him feeling uncertain, fighting against the urge to go to you and -
Fuck.
He didn’t know what he wanted to do. His cock twitched again at the thought of burying his face against your neck and pressing his nose to your gland. A wildly inappropriate thought that had his alpha urges starting to stir, wanting to claim you as his.
That thought made him feel worse; there you were, finally letting your guard down and starting to trust him and all he could think about was how good your tight little body would feel wrapped around his cock...
He felt like he was losing his mind.
It was your scent, the fact he hadn’t been this close to an omega in years and, now, it felt like you were everywhere.
He grimaced as he took a piss, then he started to pace, not wanting to have to sneak back past you when he was at half-mast. But the longer he stayed in the bathroom, the more your sweet omega scent got to him, driving him crazy.
Gritting his teeth, and hating himself more than ever, he reached into his sweatpants and started to stroke his aching cock. His free hand reached for your damp blouse and held it to his face, and he lost himself in thoughts of you. It wasn’t long before he was coming all over his hand, barely biting back his desperate grunts of pleasure, muffling them with your blouse.
Then, finally, he was able to sneak back to his room and spend the night thinking about how much of an asshole he was.
The next morning he got up early, sneaking past the little curled up bundle on the sofa and letting himself out of the apartment. He managed to get your key from the building manager and make it back upstairs before you woke, and you seemed more than happy to get out of there as quickly as possible once you were awake.
You did stop to give him a thank you hug, and Bucky damn near asked you to stay but, thankfully, you didn’t seem to want to linger.
Once you were gone, he went through his apartment, opening all the windows, trying to get rid of your intoxicating smell before heading out for the day.
The next day he came home to find a box in front of his apartment door. On top of it, there was an envelope with his name in large, looping letters, and beneath it was a bundle of clothing. The clothes you had borrowed. Cautiously, he reached for the envelope, opening it to find a thank you card from you. You had signed your name followed by three little x’s.
Opening the box, he realised it was an apple pie from Gracie’s, the sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon filling his nose, but it was the scent coming from the clothes you borrowed that really got to him. His cock twitched just at the thought and had him quickly unlocking the door to his apartment, wanting to get inside and try to get himself under control again.
Over the next few days, he did his best to avoid you, knowing it was best for both of you if he kept his distance, but fate seemed to have other plans.
First it was in the hallway, you leaving for an evening shift at the diner just as he was getting home; you smiled and made small talk, asking how he was and if he’d enjoyed the apple pie. Somehow it ended with him offering to walk you to work and then offering to meet you to walk you home. He insisted despite you telling him that he didn’t have to. The streets of New York late at night just weren’t safe for an unclaimed omega on her own. And, despite his discomfort, he knew he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to you.
He saw the looks he got as he waited outside Gracie’s for you, the smirks and the smiles, and the look of embarrassment that fell over your face when Gracie whispered something to you. But that didn’t stop it becoming a regular thing over the next two weeks.
Then there was laundry night, a night that had been a tactical affair for Bucky for as long as he’d lived in the building; every Wednesday after nine when no one else was around. But there you were, chatting with Nikki from downstairs who’d decided to follow you to catch up with the gossip.
He was about to turn back and slip away unnoticed, until -
“Hey Bucky,” Nikki called out.
He forced a smile to his lips and raised his hand in an awkward wave as he approached, and you gave him that shy little smile that always made his heart beat a little faster. He watched as Nikki’s eyes moved from him to you and back again, a barely suppressed grin tugging at her lips.
“We were just talking about my birthday on Friday,” she told him, giving you a sly little glance, “you should come out with us.”
“I don’t think so,” he shrugged, quickly focusing his attention on getting his laundry in the washer so he could get out of there as quickly as possible.
“Come on Bucky, we need a big scary alpha to make sure the other alpha’s leave mouse alone,” Nikki continued.
If he hadn’t looked at you, he wouldn’t have noticed your sudden discomfort or the way you were chewing the inside of your cheek. Clearly there was more to Nikki’s comment than she was letting on.
“What other alphas?” He asked.
“It’s nothing,” you muttered, “it doesn’t matter.”
If Nikki noticed your discomfort, she certainly didn’t let it stop her from explaining; “last week some douchebag alpha spent half the night bothering her.”
“What?” He barely managed to rein in his annoyance, the instinct that told him you were to be protected, that you were some weak and helpless thing.
“Asshole kept asking when her heat was and if she needed company,” Nikki continued.
“He was just drunk, it wasn’t that bad,” you sighed.
“You’re too nice for your own good, mouse,” Nikki told you, shaking her head. “If me and Jade hadn’t been there...”
She didn’t need to say it. It wasn’t a secret how some alphas could be, how some didn’t want to take no for an answer, especially since the blip; so many of them returned to find their omega had moved on with their lives or, some, moved on without their omegas. But, just because the world was a mess, Bucky didn’t think you deserved to have to deal with some prick of an alpha who didn’t respect your boundaries.
You let out a sigh and gave a weak shrug. “Maybe I shouldn’t go if you think it’s gonna cause problems...”
“What? No, that’s now why I’m saying, you have to -”
“I can probably come for a couple of hours,” Bucky offered. He hated how dejected you looked, hated that you felt like you had to miss out on having fun with your friends because you didn’t feel safe.
“Really?” You asked, trying to hold back the smile that was desperate to spread across your face.
“Yeah,” he conceded, “but just for a couple of hours.”
Nikki reached over, giving him a playful punch on the arm. “You’re the best, Bucky.”
Fortunately for him, ten minutes later, the pair of you were done with your laundry and he was left to sit in relative silence with his book, wondering just how much he was going to regret agreeing to go out with you.
(A lot. The answer was a lot.)
He opted to meet you all at the bar about half an hour after everyone got there, managing to slip in unnoticed and take up at the bar, out of the way, but able to keep an eye on things, watching you on the dancefloor. That was why he was there; he was just making sure no one harassed you or tried to ruin your night. But he didn’t stay undiscovered for long.
You smiled as your eyes met his, leaning against the bar, waiting for your drink. He watched, not sure whether to be impressed or concerned as you knocked back a tequila shot and washed it down with a mouthful of beer. Your nose wrinkled at the taste, but he didn’t say anything until you purposefully looked his way again.
“What?” You asked him, noticing how he was watching you.
“What?” He repeated.
You moved closer to his side, your smile widening.
“You were watching me.”
“It’s just - you’re really not what I thought,” he told you, awkwardly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His stomach knotted the moment you started to frown, it was almost enough to make him wince.
“You’re just... you’re not like other omegas,” The moment he said it, Bucky seemed to realise how it sounded. Grimacing, he fumbled over an explanation. “I mean, you’re different from other omegas and tonight you just seem - I don’t know, I just feel like I’m seeing a new side of you.”
Your eyebrow rose and you just stared at him, lost for words.
“I’m sorry,” he tried again, “It’s just been a long time since I -”
“Talked to another human being?” You offered before cracking a smile.
“Yeah, something like that,” he said, giving a little smile of his own and falling silent.
He hoped that the conversation was over and that you’d return to the dancefloor, but you didn’t. Instead you stood right there, carrying on the awkward silence until the song changed and you had a terrible idea.
“D’you maybe wanna come dance?” You offered and he quickly flashed you a look that could only be described as pure fear. He shook his head, watching in horror as you reached for his arm and started to tug. You knew you couldn’t move him, but that didn’t stop you from trying. “C’mon, stop being a party-pooper.”
He let you struggle for a moment, hoping beyond hope that you’d get bored but, when you didn’t, he let out a sigh and knocked back his beer before getting to his feet.
Your grin spread from ear to ear as you tugged him onto the dancefloor, ignoring the fact that his expression was stuck somewhere between amused and terrified. He didn’t dance. In fact, he pretty much just stood there awkwardly until you grabbed his arms and forced some movement into his body, all while biting your lip and trying to stifle your laughter.
After a couple of songs he let you pull him back towards the bar with everyone else for another round of shots, chasing your tequila with beer again. He tried to take the opportunity to slink back to his seat, but the moment he started edging away, your arm wrapped around his, forcing him into the conversation.
When everyone returned to the dancefloor, you pulled him along with you, your hand dropping to hold his and squeezing tighter.
The music got more lively as the night went on and, as the bar started to fill, you found yourself moving closer and closer, until your body was pressed against his.
You barely seemed to notice your proximity to him, but Bucky noticed. His arm moved around your waist, keeping you safe from being jostled by other dancers and making sure the other alphas around knew that you were off-limits. He watched you as you lost yourself in the music and enjoyed the night.
At some point your hand ended you on his chest, and you were close enough that every sway of your hips had you brushing against him. Despite how crowded the room was, all he could smell was your sweet scent.
Every slow, deep breath he took, trying to keep himself in check, made it worse. And, when you leaned against him completely, looking up at him, he almost lost his mind.
“D’you want to get out of here?” You asked him.
The rational part of his mind told him that you meant you wanted to go home; the club was noisy and full, and it was probably wreaking havoc on your sensitive omega senses but, for a moment, he dared to hope that it meant more.
“Sure,” he told you with a smile.
As you made your way outside, he kept his arm around you, helping you navigate the crowd until you were finally outside in the cool night air. You decided to walk home and Bucky was honestly glad of the relative quiet of the New York streets versus the noise of the bar, and he was happy to walk side by side with you, only sparing you the occasional glance and smile.
“What?” You asked when you caught one of those smiles.
“Nothing,” he shook his head.
You nudged him with your elbow. “Tell me.”
“I was just thinking about the first time we met,” he explained, shaking his head, “you were so timid.”
“That was before I got to know you,” you shrugged. “I thought you were just the grumpy alpha who lived across the hall.”
“Grumpy?” He looked at you, offended.
“Very grumpy,” you smiled.
“And now?”
You looked at him, shyly biting your lip and fighting back a smile.
“Still deciding,” you answered playfully.
Bucky held the door open for you as you made your way into your building, grinning and giggling as you both boarded the elevator to the fourth floor.
It wasn’t long before you came to a stop outside of your apartment, and he watched you, waiting for you to open the door and slip inside, wanting to know that you were home safe and sound.
Instead you looked at him for a moment before surging forward and pressing your lips to his. You lingered for a few seconds while he was completely paralysed by shock. When you pulled back, you bit your lip nervously, obviously forcing yourself to maintain eye contact while Bucky came to terms with what you’d just done.
“You’ve been drinking,” he said softly, and it was hard to tell if he was trying to let you down gently, or trying to talk himself out of doing something he might regret.
“Not a lot,” you answered, rising up to press another kiss to the corner of his mouth while your hands gripped his jacket.
“I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret...”
“I won’t regret it. I’ve wanted this for weeks,” you told him, pressing against him and feeling his arm slip around your waist. “Ever since I first caught your scent in the hallway... I thought it was gonna trigger my heat...”
A low rumble sounded in the back of his throat and the arm around your waist pulled tighter.
“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, this time not bothering to hide the way he was breathing in your sweet scent, the smell that had been haunting him for weeks.
You looked up, your pupils already dilated with arousal, staring at him in a way that had his last shred of control fraying completely. You bit your lip as you nodded, and that was all he needed from you.
Bucky fumbled for his keys, barely loosening his hold on you as he led you into his apartment, turning to kiss you the second the door was shut. He groaned as you whimpered against his lips, eagerly pressing against him, clinging to his jacket as he picked you up and carried you towards his bedroom. The kiss broke and your face pressed against his neck, letting out another little moan as you inhaled his scent.
His arms tightened around you, his alpha instincts desperate to take over, as he sat on the edge of his bed, you on his lap. He kissed you again, groaning against your lips as he felt your hips starting to rock against his. After shrugging out of his jacket and pulling off his gloves, he started to pull open your blouse, his hands trailing over every newly exposed inch of skin.
Your hands tugged at his shirt, urging it up over his head, and his heart almost stopped when he saw the way you were looking at him, drinking in the sight of him. You ran a hand down his chest and over the defined ridges of his abs before reaching the buckle of his belt. Looking up, you held his gaze as you slowly unbuckled him and started to work on the fastening.
Another noise sounded in the back of his throat, something barely restrained, something that wanted, needed. And you didn’t disappoint. Your hand slipped into his jeans and wrapped around his cock, pulling it out so you could start to stroke it. His breath caught when your eyes met his, glassy with need, your omega instincts starting to take control. You kissed him again, desperate and eager, as your hand worked up and down the length of his cock.
You surprised him when you pulled away, when you dropped to your knees in front of him and started to tug his pants and boxers down. Bucky lifted himself, helping you drag them down to his ankles.
He wanted to say something, wanted to tell you how perfect you looked as you looked up at him, as your hand gripped his cock again, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead he reached for you, cupping your cheek tenderly before letting his fingers slip down to your neck to ghost over your mating gland. A soft moan escaped you and there was a palpable spike in your arousal, the whole room seeming to fill with your sweet scent.
Bucky breathed deeply, taking it all in, letting out a groan of his own when he realised there was another scent in the air; the tart scent of your slick.
Before he could even think, you started to nuzzle against his thigh gland, rubbing yourself against him scenting him while also coating yourself in his musk. You were giving yourself to him so completely, and there was nothing more arousing to him.
Your hand started to move again, slipping up and down his cock, causing a pearly glob of precum to form on his tip, and he about damn-near lost his mind when you leaned forward to lick it up. His tip continued to leak as you looked up at him through your lashes and started to take him into your mouth.
The tart smell of slick only seemed to get thicker as you started to suck him, slowly taking more and more of him into your mouth, until he felt himself nudge the back of your throat. Your eyes watered but remained fixed on his, lips pulling back before sinking down again.
It wasn’t until his head dropped back that Bucky realised his mistake.
You moved so suddenly, your lips pulling away from him, your hand reaching for your boot.
He saw the knife just in time to stop it from piercing his chest, his vibranium arm catching your wrist and twisting it.
You struggled against him, jaw clenched, any sign of arousal now completely gone from your face despite the way the smell of it still hung in the air.
“What the fuck?” He demanded, gripping you tight.
You didn’t answer save for letting out a sound of indignation and anger, pure rage on your face as you struggled against him. He wasn’t going to let you go until he got some answers, until he figured out just what the fuck was going on.
But you threw a punch, then another, first catching him on the cheek before getting him square in the nose. It was enough of a distraction to cause him to loosen his grip, and that was all you needed.
Pulling away, you sprinted from his room. He tried to follow after and almost tripped, running and pulling his pants up as he went.
You left his apartment and darted into your own, locking the door behind you.
By the time he’d kicked the door down, you were already halfway down the fire escape. He climbed out of the window, ready to follow, watching as you had to jump down to the street below, falling awkwardly. He started after you but then he stopped, knowing that there was nothing he could do; despite the hour, there were too many people around, and if a sweet little omega like you started screaming about the big scary alpha, no one was going to believe his side of things.
Swearing under his breath, he turned and headed back to his apartment, pulling out his phone. One way or another, he was going to find you and he was going to find out what the fuck was going on.
End Note : anyone new to my fics... sorry for the twist, it's just what I do 😅 So, yeah, this is my first time writing omegaverse and my first time writing Bucky. It's set post Falcon and the Winter Solider and post blip. Will I follow canon strictly? Probably not. Anyway, if you've read this far, thanks so much for checking this out! I don't have a set upload schedule for this fic, but I'm going to try to update it at least once a month.
If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, let me know!
Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?
Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This chapter contains violence. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5.9k
A/N : 😅😅😅
CHAPTER ONE
MASTER LIST
Chapter Two
It had been going so well.
Too well, really.
So well, that you really should have known that it was all going to go to shit.
You cursed under your breath as you limped away, sporadically glancing over your shoulder, making sure you weren’t being followed. It was paranoia mostly - you knew Bucky had more sense than to try and follow you out in the open. And it wasn’t as if you didn’t garner enough attention on your own, making your way past groups of people heading home after a night out on the town, looking every bit the poor, helpless and pathetic little omega as you limped alone.
You hated it and you hated yourself for letting it happen.
It had been sloppy, careless. Hindsight was a bitch and had no problem telling you everything you’d done wrong; you should have waited, you should have taken your time.
But that was the problem. You hadn’t wanted to wait. You hadn’t wanted to spend another moment with him like that; touching him, kissing him, and doing every other unmentionable thing. As you walked, you scrubbed your cheek with your sleeve, trying to get his scent off you, but it felt like it was everywhere, like it was seeping into your pores, into your very being, and you’d never be rid of it.
The only thing you knew for certain was that Bucky Barnes was supposed to be dead and you were going to have to find a way to fix your mistake.
Though first you’d need to deal with the world of shit you’d found yourself in. Everything you owned was back at your apartment and Bucky wasn’t an idiot, he wasn’t just going to sit back and forget that you’d tried to kill him. No, he was probably already trying to figure out who you were and why you wanted him dead.
Your weeks of hard work in getting close to him had gone down the drain and all the pathetic, degrading things you’d done had been rendered pointless.
It was playing over and over again in your head, every little thing you’d done and how you could have done better.
You’d played the part of the meek little omega, you’d made him want to protect you. That night in his apartment you’d spread your scent all over his bathroom in the hope of driving him crazy, getting in his head and making it so that you were all he could think about. And, then he’d started seeking you out; offering to walk you too and from work, and agreeing to come to the bar with you.
It had all been perfect.
He should be dead.
What had gone wrong?
You were so caught up in your own frustration that you didn’t hear the call at first, someone shouting your name from down the street. Looking up, you noticed Nikki and Jade, finally on their way home, heading straight towards you.
“What happened?” Nikki asked, looking you up and down, voice filled with concern.
“Didn’t you leave with Bucky?” Jade added a second later.
You took a breath, mind racing as you tried to come up with the perfect lie. Then your gaze dropped and you slipped back into the role of the helpless, delicate omega.
“I think I left my purse at the bar,” you said softly, not looking at either of them.
“You could have called us, we would’ve gone back for it,” Nikki told you.
“Did you tell Bucky? Did he not offer to walk you back to the bar?” Jade asked.
“No, he - we -” you swallowed awkwardly and paused for effect before daring to glance up.
“What’s wrong?” Nikki asked. “Did he -”
“No - no, Bucky didn’t do anything,” you quickly explained. “It was me, I - I tried to kiss him..”
The both fell into a stunned silence while you dropped your gaze again, looking thoroughly embarrassed. And, in a way, you were embarrassed, just not in the way that they thought.
“What did he do? If he was mean -” Nikki sounded ready to fight, and that was the last thing you needed.
“No, he was nice, really. I just - I feel so stupid for thinking he could like me like that...” you sighed, glancing up for a split-second to see if they were buying the lie. They were. “I needed some space so I came out for a walk. I don't want to go back to my apartment in case he sees and wants to talk about it, and then I tripped and hurt my ankle...”
“So, your purse...” Jade prompted softly.
You shook your head, indicating that you hadn’t left it, that you were just using it as an excuse to stay away from your apartment and, by extension, Bucky. For effect, you gave a little sniffle.
“Oh, mouse,” Nikki said with a shake of her head. “I’m sure it’s not that bad. I bet if you just talk to Bucky you’ll be able to sort it out.”
“I can’t. Not tonight,” you told her. “You didn’t see his face... it was so embarrassing.”
“Do you want to crash on our sofa tonight?” Jade offered.
You gave a weak little nod but stayed silent, quickly forming a plan. Their apartment was a couple of floors below yours but it was connected by the same fire escape. You’d be able to sneak back into your apartment in the morning, grab your stuff and get the hell out of there before Bucky could catch up to you.
The three of you walked back slowly, Jade putting her arm around your waist and helping you limp along on your injured ankle. Neither of them said anything, but you’d catch the way they were looking at you from the corner of your eye and it made your stomach turn.
Eventually you ended up in their apartment, set up on the sofa for the night, but you didn’t sleep; how could you when you knew he was upstairs and when you couldn’t trust that Nikki and Jade wouldn’t try to go talk to him on your behalf? Fortunately, the night passed without incident and, in the morning, you caught sight of Bucky leaving from the window. Your eyes followed him to his motorcycle, watching as he finished a phone call before riding off.
You didn’t have to hear his conversation to know that he was looking for you; he’d probably been up half the night trying to track you down, without once stopping to think that you’d be dumb enough to still be in the building.
You made your excuses to Nikki and Jade, and headed back upstairs.
Bucky had shut your apartment door, but the lock was busted. Fortunately, you weren’t planning on sticking around long enough to get your security deposit back. It didn’t look like anything had been taken, but a few drawers had been opened, obviously he’d spent some time in there, looking for clues. But you already knew he wouldn’t have found anything. It wasn’t like you’d kept a journal detailing how you wanted to kill your neighbour.
Luckily, the latch on the door was still intact and held the door shut well enough for you to dare to risk a quick shower, needing to scrub yourself to try and get rid of the last of his scent that you hadn’t been able to wash off the night before. Then you changed into some clean clothes and set about trying to pack a bag so you could get the hell out of there.
It was shocking just how much you’d settled into the apartment in the few months you’d been there, and you almost felt sad knowing you were leaving it. Aside from the act you’d had to put on for everyone around you, you realised that you’d actually liked it there; you’d found a comfort and sense of safety that you’d never had before.
Lost in the strange feeling, you almost didn’t notice the door rattling until someone forced their way inside, breaking the latch and the last thing holding the door shut.
Turning you expected to see him standing there, angry and ready to demand an explanation.
But it wasn’t Bucky.
There were two of them, and you could only guess what they wanted, but you didn’t bother wasting time asking. Instead you dropped behind the sofa.
You pulled the knife from your boot and threw it, catching one of your attackers in the shoulder, causing him to stagger back and let out a string of curses. There was a moment of confusion, but they quickly realised where you were. Scrambling out of your hiding place, you tried to race for your nightstand and the gun that was hidden in the top drawer, but your injured ankle slowed you down. Before you got there, a large hand grabbed your collar and a fistful of your hair, yanking you backwards so hard that you fell.
A boot connected with your stomach, knocking the wind from you, but it didn’t stop you from grabbing the leg attached to that boot and biting down as hard as you could, earning a pained yelp from your attacker. A second later, you were scrambling towards the door, desperate to get out. Then came another kick and, this time, instead of pulling away, he pressed his boot down on your back, holding you in place.
You heard the click of a gun’s safety and held your breath, waiting for the inevitable.
“Hey, jackass, Rumlow wants her alive,” said the other and your stomach almost turned itself inside out at the sound of a name you hadn’t heard in five years.
“I’m not gonna kill her, just gonna put one in the back of her leg to keep her from running,” came the response.
Immediately, you started to struggle, cursing and swearing as he pressed down harder on your back and laughed. You were trapped and powerless to defend yourself; you were everything you’d never wanted to be again, and the realisation had you thrashing and struggling in vain.
“What’s he want with a scrawny little omega like this anyway?”
Somehow, you managed to crawl a few inches despite the weight on your back, managing to get yourself ever so slightly closer to the nightstand, refusing to give up, refusing to resign yourself to your fate.
“I dunno,” the other goon answered, looking down at you, “she’s a feisty little thing though.”
You twisted and squirmed, trying to reach behind you to pull the boot from your back, still fighting, even though you knew there was no real chance of escape. Each breath you took was an awkward gasp, panic plus the pressure on your chest was making it harder and harder to breathe. And it only got worse when your vision started to blur.
But, before you could pass out, you felt something against your neck, then you were zapped with about a thousand volts. The pain only lasted a couple of seconds before you lost consciousness.
------------
In a way, Bucky knew that he should have seen it coming, that you (or any one really) wanting to be close to him should only ever have been seen as a massive red flag. In retrospect, it was easy to see how he’d fallen for it, how he’d let you play him and get close enough to almost take his life.
And Bucky was angry, he was pissed that he’d let you get close, that he’d allowed himself to want for the first time in years.
He wanted to follow you as you ran, consequences be damned. He wanted to know why, wanted to know how your lies could make him feel a longing ache in the cave of his chest, an ache that hadn’t lessened even after your betrayal.
For hours he looked through your apartment, trying to find some sign of who you were and why you wanted him dead, but there was nothing. He made call after call, upsetting almost everyone he knew by disturbing them at such a late hour. All he managed to find out was what he’d already suspected; the name you’d given him was fake, and so was every little scrap of your past that you’d shared.
There was no trace of you, like your entire life had been a lie, like you’d never even been a real person.
He began to wonder if you’d been trained somewhere like the Red Room, or been part of the Winter Soldier program, but none of that made sense. While you were clever enough to get close to him, it was obvious from your scuffle that you had no training, that you weren’t a fighter or a trained assassin.
By the time morning came around, there was only one person left that Bucky hadn’t asked for help.
And, with great reluctance, he went to see Sam.
There was an awkwardness to the way he stood there in Sam’s home, half looking at him, the person he considered to be his only friend, and only in the loosest sense of the word. He didn’t want to explain himself or the maelstrom of emotions that he was trying to fight back. All he wanted was help finding you.
“I need your help tracking someone down,” he said, pulling up a photo he’d taken of the group on his phone last night, zooming in on your face. “I have a name, but I don’t think it’s real. The picture’s all I have to go on.”
Sam looked at the picture then looked at Bucky
“You know, when a woman doesn’t tell you her real name during a hook-up, it’s usually a sign she’s not interested in a relationship,” Sam joked with an easy sort of smile that Bucky had always been jealous of.
“It’s not like that,” Bucky answered, snatching back his phone. “She tried to kill me.”
“You do have that effect on people.”
“And this is why you’re the last person I came to for help,” Bucky responded, taking a step back, about ready to give up leave.
“I see that cyborg brain of yours still doesn’t know how to process humour.”
“It can process humour just fine, it’s that you’re not funny,” Bucky snapped, his tone more than enough to tell his friend that he was already wearing on his last nerve. This was important to him and he wasn’t in the mood to play games. “If you’re not gonna help -”
“Alright, alright,” Sam held his hands up, signalling his surrender, “send me the photo and I’ll pass it on to Torres and see if he can find anything. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?”
Bucky did as he was asked, sending the picture of Sam and then watching as Sam sent it on. Then there was a pause, Bucky obviously hesitating before he started to explain what had happened, in a tasteful and censored way. He told Sam how you’d moved in and how he’d tried to help you, how he’d tried to be a good alpha, and how the pair of you had started to get close.
“Any idea why she tried to kill you?” Sam dared to ask, even though he seemed to sense that it was something of a sensitive subject for Bucky.
“No, she didn’t exactly stick around to explain it after trying to stab me.”
Sam gave him a look that had Bucky bristling, looking about ready to fight if Sam even thought about making another joke.
“Do you think someone paid her?” Sam said, looking at your picture again.
“No... it felt personal. She was really angry...” Bucky said, barely managing to hold back a sigh. “But she didn’t fight like she had any training and she’s an omega, so it’s not like she stood a chance at overpowering me..”
“She must’ve put on quite the act if she managed to get that close to you.” Again Bucky bristled, discomfort on his face betraying him. But if Sam noticed, thankfully, he decided not to say anything about it. “Why does it feel like there’s more than your wounded pride at stake here?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky shrugged. “I just want to know why she tried to kill me and if she’s gonna try again.”
Sam was about to say something when his phone buzzed with a message.
“Torres says it might take him a couple of hours.”
“Can you let me know what he finds?” Bucky asked.
“Sure. Where are you going?”
“Home. In case she goes back to her apartment.”
“You really think she’ll go back?”
“I don’t think she planned for failure,” Bucky offered, “I think she saw the opportunity and took it, now she’s out there with nothing but the clothes on her back.”
“Need me to come with?”
Bucky shook his head. “No, if she shows up I can deal with her.”
The pair shared an awkward goodbye and Bucky headed back to the apartment building, hoping that he hadn’t missed you, but not entirely sure what he’d do if you did turn up. He told himself that he just wanted answers, but it was more than that; he wanted to understand, he wanted to know why you’d gone to such great lengths.
A van peeled past him as he reached the building and he quickly noticed Nikki on the sidewalk, blood pouring from her nose, her eyes fixed on the van until she noticed Bucky.
“What happened?” Bucky asked, quickly moving to her, trying to make sure she was alright.
“They took her,” she answered, frantic. “Someone took mouse.”
“What?” He glanced down the street at the van.
“They had guns, Bucky. I think they’re gonna - oh my god...” she let out an awkward sob, her hand lifting to cover her mouth as she struggled not to fall apart.
“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” Bucky told her, placing a hand on her shoulder and trying to comfort her.
“She was bleeding, Bucky. They’re gonna hurt her,” she continued. “I tried to stop them, but I -”
For a split second, he was torn - torn between staying and looking after Nikki and going after you - but his indecision didn’t last long. Whatever was going on, he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt you. He needed answers, he needed to know what was going on.
“Go inside,” he told her, starting back towards his motorcycle, “I’m going to get her back.”
Bucky didn’t wait for a response before starting the engine and taking off after the van.
He easily managed to catch up with the van in the city traffic, pulling up alongside it. He couldn’t see you, but he could hear something, someone, in the back of the van, struggling and kicking against the door. Whatever was going on, Bucky knew he wasn’t going to get any answers if he couldn’t get to you. Hearing your screams and shouts was the last straw; no matter who you really were or what you’d done, you didn’t deserve this.
Slamming his vibranium arm into the passenger door, he tore it off the van, quickly pulling one of your kidnappers out and tossing him into the street, causing the car behind to swerve wildly. In the commotion, the driver fumbled for his gun, giving Bucky ample time to climb into the van and slam his fist into the guy’s jaw. His head rebounded off the window, and the van turned sharply, slamming into a streetlight.
The collision was enough to knock the driver out.
Bucky climbed out of the van, practically tearing the back door off as he pulled it open, find you bloody and sprawled unconscious on the floor. He quickly dialled Sam.
“Hey, Sam, do you still have that safehouse downtown?”
------------
You woke up in a small, mostly unfurnished bedroom with no memory of how you’d gotten there; you could remember waking up in the back of the van, kicking and screaming, trying to get out but, then, nothing. But that blank spot in your memory was really the least of your concerns.
When you moved, everything ached. Someone had cleaned you up and bandaged your wounds but, given the circumstances, that just made you feel worse.
All you wanted to do was curl up and surrender yourself to whatever was about to happen. You were so tired of running, so tired of fighting.
You wanted to give up.
You just wanted to sleep.
But a familiar scent reached you, a scent that confused everything even more; Bucky.
Your head ached as you tried to process what was going on and how you’d come to be with Bucky and not Rumlow, and how you’d come to trade one kind of fear for another.
Slowly, you managed to get to your feet, despite the way that the room seemed to spin and the floor felt uneven beneath your feet. Looking around, you tried to find something that gave you some idea of what was going on, but there was nothing. The only things in the room were the bed, a small bedside table with empty drawers, and an empty wardrobe. The view from the window told you that you were in an apartment building, but you couldn’t tell where.
Once you’d finished looking around the room, you headed for the door, expecting to find it locked but, instead, it opened out into the rest of the apartment.
And there he was.
Bucky was sitting on the sofa, but he got to his feet the second the door opened. You gripped the doorframe as your stomach knotted and cramped, fear coiling in your insides at the realisation you were trapped and there was no way you’d be able to escape him.
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air between you, neither of you moving, neither of you taking your eyes off the other. Your mind was racing, trying to figure out what was happening and why you were there instead of rotting in a cell or worse.
“What’s going on?” You finally forced yourself to ask, trying not to lean too heavily against the doorframe, not wanting to show him just how weak and vulnerable you were.
“Funny, I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he answered, anger and upset thick in his voice.
Finally, you let your gaze shift to the door and started weighing up whether you could reach it before he stopped you. And Bucky noticed, in fact, he took a step towards you, almost goading you to try your luck.
“Why am I here?” You asked, exhausting and discomfort intensifying with every second that passed.
“Because I want answers before I decide what to do with you,” Bucky answered. “The guys that tried to grab you were ex-Hydra, a hit squad - is that who you’re working for?”
“I’m not working for anyone.”
“So it’s personal then?”
“I’m not playing twenty questions with you,” you answered with a sharpness that he didn’t expect, a tone he’d never heard from you before. “Just get it over with.”
“Get what over with?” His confusion was almost believable, but you knew better than to think he didn’t know what you were talking about.
“Just kill me.”
“I don’t make a habit of killing unarmed omegas for no reason.”
“Right. Sure you don’t.” you scoffed sarcastically.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means drop the crap. I know you’re the Winter Soldier.”
Suddenly it felt like all the air had been sucked from the room and there was no missing the flicker of discomfort that crossed his face before a look of resignation appeared. You leaned against the doorframe all the more, watching as he struggled to respond, feeling worse by the second.
“So - what? - you came after me to settle a score?” He finally found his voice.
“You killed my brother,” you spat. “You ruined my life.”
Again, there was silence, but all you could think about was the suffocating heat in the room and how it felt like you could barely breathe, and how every breath you did manage to take filled your lungs with his scent.
Bucky had said something and was staring at you expectantly but your only response was to shake your head and start moving, limping towards the door knowing you couldn’t escape but wanting to try your luck regardless. You made it about halfway before you had to stop, the pain in your abdomen only getting worse until you were almost doubled over. Before you could think, before you could say anything, Bucky was at your side, catching you just as your legs crumpled beneath you.
Your vision blurred and you almost lost yourself in his scent and the way his arm pulled you against him in his attempts to steady you. And, for a moment, you wanted nothing more than to melt into his side and surrender yourself to whatever might happen, but you refused to give up that easily.
“No,” you muttered weakly, trying to push him away, “get off me.”
He didn’t let go, knowing that if he did you’d only end up on the floor.
“You need to lay down,” you heard him mutter, a tenderness in his voice that didn’t belong, a kindness you didn’t want or need.
As much as you tried to struggle, you found yourself led back into the bedroom and placed on the bed. The moment your head hit the pillow, everything went black.
------------
The revelation that he had killed your brother had left Bucky reeling. It wasn’t the first time that he’d been forced to confront his past as the Winter Soldier but it was turning out to be one of the most painful. He’d hurt you, taken something from you, and he’d never be able to make that right. The thought alone was enough to make him spiral.
As easy as it would have been to hide behind the idea that it hadn’t really been him, that the Winter Soldier wasn’t him, Bucky couldn’t separate himself from the pain he’d obviously caused you. And the worst part? He had no way of knowing who your brother was, no way of narrowing it down or understanding why; had your brother been his target, or had he just been collateral damage.
For a couple of hours he sat, thinking over all the terrible things he’d done, remembering all the things that haunted him, all the things he wouldn’t allow himself to forget in the hopes that something would spark a memory and he’d have the answers that he needed. But, the sorry truth of the matter was that he had far too much blood on his hands, too many deaths on his conscience.
Whatever had happened, it seemed that his actions as the Winter Soldier had set you on a path that had put you in the crosshairs of dangerous people and, now that he had some idea of why, Bucky knew that he needed to try and make amends. He needed to try and help you.
But, convincing you to let him was going to be the hardest part.
There was so much he didn’t know, but the majority of the anger and hostility he’d felt towards you had disappeared the moment he started to understand why you wanted him dead. Your words still rang in his ears; you ruined my life. It made him feel sick, but it was a sickness he’d felt before, a sickness he’d managed to work through.
When the bedroom door opened again a few hours later, he was shocked to see that, instead of looking better and rested, you somehow looked worse. You were barely keeping your balance as you stopped and looked at him, pure hatred in your eyes.
“What do you want with me?” You finally asked. “Am I your prisoner?”
“I don’t want anything. And, no, you’re not a prisoner,” Bucky answered, slowly getting to his feet and watching you closely, in case you collapsed again.
“So I can leave?”
“You can, but it’d hardly be the smartest option when you’ve got an ex-Hydra hit-squad looking for you,” he answered.
For a moment you gave him an indecipherable look, as if you were caught between shock and confusion that he’d put everything together so quickly. He didn’t bother to tell you it was because he’d had at least half a dozen people researching you and your assailants, trying to find out whatever they could.
“That’s how he found me...” you sighed under your breath but, before Bucky could ask, you were moving towards the door.
“Seriously?” He asked, clinging desperately to the last of his patience. “Just look at you, you can barely walk. How far do you think you’re gonna get?”
“Whose fault is that?” You snapped back.
“Seriously? You're gonna try and blame me? You jumped off the fire escape after trying to kill me,” he stated, moving to block you as you tried to reach the door.
“I thought you said I wasn’t a prisoner.”
No. You weren’t a prisoner but Bucky couldn’t let you go, not in your current state. You could barely stand and, besides, you had nowhere to go and nothing but your phone.
“You’re not, but if you think I’m gonna let you get yourself killed...”
“I can’t stay here with you,” you told him, trying to step around him.
“You’re not exactly a joy to be around either but you should at least wait until you’re well enough to -”
“My heat is about to start,” you finally admitted, hoping it would be enough to make him move. It wasn't.
“Seriously?” A moment later he was shaking his head. “All the more reason you should stay. You’re not gonna be able to look after yourself.”
“You’re fucking kidding, right?” You asked and the look he gave you was enough to tell you that he wasn’t. He was dead serious. “I can’t stay here with you.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I can control myself around an omega in heat,” he answered, annoyed by the implication.
But, if he was honest, he understood at least some part of your worry; the events of the night before were still burned into his memory and, even though that longing ache in his chest had dulled somewhat, it was still there.
“Said every alpha ever,” you muttered, turning away from him, obviously looking for another way out.
“Look, I get it -” he tried, following after you.
“No, you really don’t.”
“I killed someone close to you and I’m sorry -”
“Sorry?” You turned back towards him, tone dripping with disbelief. “I bet you don’t even remember him. I bet you don’t even remember why. You don’t get to tell me sorry.”
“You’re right,” Bucky conceded, “I don’t remember a lot of my time as the Winter Soldier, but I want to make this right.”
You lunged suddenly, almost losing your foot as your hands met his chest and pushed. He barely moved and you almost crumpled to the floor as you shoved him.
“There is no making this right,” you told him angrily, hitting a balled fist against his chest. “You can’t fix this. You can’t bring him back from the dead.”
“Maybe not, but I can keep you alive,” he answered stubbornly, gripping your arm for a moment so you didn’t fall. “I have some friends looking for the guys that tried to grab you, once they’re in custody I’ll take you back to your apartment and we’ll never have to see each other again, okay?”
But, obviously, it wasn’t okay.
“I. Can’t. Stay. Here.” You repeated, slowly, as if he was an idiot. (And maybe he was an idiot for trying to help you.)
“If I was going to hurt you, don’t you think I would’ve done it by now?” He answered back, tone becoming clipped as he became more frustrated by the conversation. “Just... let me help you and, when all of this is all over and you can stand without looking like you’re gonna pass out, you can have your revenge.”
The offer was made more out of desperation than anything else; he just wanted you to be safe while he dealt with the people trying to hurt you. Everything else could come after.
You made your way into the kitchen and he watched you glancing out the window, as if you were weighing up the pros and cons of jumping from the fifth floor. There was panic on your face as you turned back and looked towards the front door again, but Bucky was starting to realise that he wasn’t the only thing making you feel that way.
“What’s the big deal? It’s not like this is your first heat.” He said because it couldn’t be - you must have been dealing with them for easily over a decade now.
Finally, you turned your attention back to him, no longer trying to hide your discomfort
“I haven’t had a heat in over five years,” you confessed with all of your previous anger. “I don’t do this. I don’t want to do this, especially not near you.”
Bucky chose to ignore the obvious insult. “Five years? How is that even possible?”
“Suppressants,” you snapped. “That I stopped taking so I could get close to you.”
“Oh, well I’m sorry my attempted murder was such an inconvenience to you,” he retorted sarcastically. He fell silent for a moment, watching as your trembling hand reached for the counter for support. “I thought you weren’t supposed to take them over long periods of time? Doesn’t that cause serious problems?”
“Wow, are you really going to stand there and try to alpha-splain it to me?”
“No, that’s not -” he stopped himself, seeing you tense in discomfort. “Can you just go sit down before you fall down?”
“I told you, I can’t -”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first twenty times,” he said, moving towards you and wrapping an arm around your waist, forcibly leading you from the kitchen and into the bedroom again, depositing you on the bed.
You didn’t fight him, despite obviously wanting nothing more than to push him away from you. He wondered if being close to him had the same effect that being close to you had on him, if his scent was filling your lungs with every breath.
“I can see if I can find something, some suppressants or -”
“It’s too late. You have to take them before it starts...” you told him.
“Then what do you need?” He asked.
You looked shocked by the concern in his voice and the way he was looking at you - which, given you’d tried to kill him less than twenty-four hours ago, seemed fair. But Bucky ignored it. Whether it was alpha instincts or guilt over whatever he’d done to your brother, he just wanted to help you, look after you. It didn’t matter that you hated him. It didn’t even matter that he was almost certain you’d try to kill him again once you got the chance.
He needed to do this. He needed to try and fix whatever he’d broken, however he could.
“I need you to leave me alone,” you told him.
Bucky tongued the inside of his cheek, biting back a dozen comments that would probably only make the situation worse before relenting. He lingered for a few seconds before shrugging and letting out a sigh, before finally turning and leaving the room, closing the door behind him and giving you what you needed.
End Note : I know I'm probably raising more questions than I'm answering with this chapter but don't worry, everything will be answered eventually. And, yes, by Rumlow I do mean Brock (I'm saying he's still alive because I needed a bad guy 😅) Anyway, thanks for all the likes/comments/reblogs on the first chapter!
If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, let me know!
Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?
Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Explicit smut and omega heat stuff. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 6.2k
A/N : 😅 still trying to walk the fine line between plot and smut
CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE
MASTER LIST
Chapter Four
It felt like a fever dream, like some terrible nightmare that started to fade from memory the moment your eyes opened. Only, it wasn’t. It had happened.
Bucky had -
No.
No.
You didn’t even want to think about it. Regardless of how much it had helped, and how much you might have needed it at the time, you felt nothing but regret. Closing your eyes, you were assaulted by vivid memories of the way he’d touched you, the way you’d moaned for him, and perhaps worst of all, the way you’d kissed him.
Hours later, his scent still lingered in the room, mixed with yours, making you feel dizzy, giddy.
Somehow, you managed to pull yourself from the crude little nest you’d throw together with little more than sheets, sofa cushions and a couple of towels.
Everything ached and just the exertion of standing up and pulling on your leggings had your skin coated in a layer of sweat. You felt awful. And, as you took a step away from the bed, you felt like you were going to fall down. But you couldn’t stop. You needed to find Bucky. You needed him to know that it had been a mistake.
Staggering, you made your way to the door, weakly pulling it open and almost falling through it. But then another scent assaulted your senses; another alpha, someone you didn’t recognise.
He looked up at you, an easy smile pulling on his lips and, for a second, there was a faint hint of recognition. You thought you recognised him. But you couldn’t place how or where from. Your mind was a haze, the fog of your heat making it difficult for you to think straight.
“Hey, I’m Sam,” he said, clearly noticing your confusion. “I’m a friend of Bucky’s.”
“Where is he?” You asked, gripping the doorframe for support.
“He needed to go out, didn’t tell me where. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but he’s not exactly an open book,” Sam answered, letting out a warm sort of laugh that told you he and Bucky were close. “He asked me to keep an eye on you, in case you needed anything.”
Your eyes widened, thoughts heading in an unsettling direction. He’d asked another alpha to take care of you?
“Not like that,” Sam quickly clarified, holding up his hands, wanting to make sure there was no confusion. “I brought you some things.”
He gave a nod of his head towards two bags on the floor, a backpack, and a shopping bag filled with womens clothes.
“There’s some of my sister's clothes in there, she’s a beta and a bit bigger than you, but they should be alright,” he explained and you offered a muttered thank you.
You decided to keep your distance, clinging to the door frame while your legs trembled beneath you. Your eyes dropped for a moment, struggling with a strange mixture of feelings welling up inside you.
You felt abandoned by Bucky, even though you didn’t want him around in the first place. And you longed for him, despite hating him. Shaking your head, you tried to clear your mind and stop all the racing thoughts and unsettling feelings. It was just your heat making you feel things that you knew weren’t real, your biology trying to make you into a good omega for an alpha you had the misfortune of craving.
Looking at Sam again, you realised he was watching you, and recognition finally sparked within you.
“Wait... you’re the Falcon... or is it Captain America now?” The confusion was clear in your voice, only sounding half convinced that he was who you believed him to be.
“Just Sam is fine,” he replied with that easy smile.
You weren’t sure what it was about him, but he felt safe, like he was the sort of guy to wear his heart on his sleeve, unlike Bucky who was gruff and guarded. How the two of them could be friends, you couldn’t even begin to understand. So, you asked.
“Why is Captain America helping the Winter Soldier?”
“Because Bucky isn’t the Winter Soldier anymore,” Sam answered. Clearly the look on your face gave away that you didn’t believe him so, a moment later, Sam continued; “he told me what happened to you - to your brother - but you have to understand that while it might have been him, it wasn’t Bucky.”
“You think just because he was under mind control that he’s any less to blame?” You answered back, unintentionally allowing some of your anger to slip into your tone.
“Do you maybe want to take a second to think about what you just said?” Sam asked, his voice still calm and friendly. Your gaze dropped, hating that some part of you knew he was right to call you out. “I know it doesn’t change how you feel and it won’t bring your brother back, but if you think for a moment that it doesn’t hurt him almost as much as it hurts you, then -”
The sound of the door had him falling quiet. For whatever reason, he didn’t want Bucky to know that he’d just been defending him to you.
Stepping into the apartment, Bucky looked at Sam before noticing you standing in the doorway to the bedroom.
“Are you okay?” He asked. “Should you be up?”
“We were just getting to know each other,” Sam decided to answer before you got the chance.
Bucky grimaced. “What did you tell her?”
For a moment he looked at you, seeming so genuinely concerned that his friend might have told you something terrible, and you wondered if that was just how their friendship was or if Bucky was so unsure of himself that all he could do was jump to the worst conclusion.
“He didn’t say anything I don’t already know,” you answered.
It earned a surprised look from Sam, and it was as close as you’d ever get to actually agreeing with what he’d told you. But agreement and acceptance were two different things, and you still hated the Winter Soldier and, by extension, Bucky.
“Where have you been?” You dared to ask Bucky, realising that he was carrying a familiar looking box in his hands.
“I was in the neighbourhood, so I stopped at Gracie’s for a pie,” Bucky said, finally stepping further into the apartment.
“You’ve got ex-Hydra agents looking for you and you stopped for a pie?” Sam asked, like it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.
“It’s - it’s really good pie,” you said, your grip tightening on the doorframe, as a wave of cramping hit.
“Did you ask her about Rumlow yet?” Sam asked, seemingly from nowhere.
Your legs almost gave in beneath you at the sound of his name. Pressing yourself against the doorframe was the only thing that stopped you from falling.
Bucky was in front of you in an instant, before Sam was even half out of his seat. He reached for you to steady you, but you did everything you could to pull away and remain standing under your own steam.
“How do you know about Rumlow?” You asked, eyes moving between the two alphas.
“The guys that tried to take you, they used to work with him. We thought Rumlow died in Lagos years ago, but -” Sam explained, stopping when you shook your head.
“No... he’s alive,” you said.
“How does Rumlow fit into any of this?” Sam asked. “How do you know him?”
Your eyes drifted to Bucky, an uncomfortable feeling twisting your guts.
“He promised to help me track down and kill the Winter Soldier but he - he lied to me,” you explained without explaining, not wanting to say anything more than that.
“Why would he be after you now?” Bucky asked.
“I don’t -” a sudden surge of pain cut you off and almost had you doubling over.
Before you could even think to try and stop him, Bucky had hold of you, sweeping you off your feet with ease and carrying you back to bed. Moments later, he was gently placing you back down in your nest.
“You need to rest,” he told you softly, his fingers tenderly brushing your hair away from your face.
You struggled to keep your eyes open and Bucky took that as a sign to leave you. But, when he started to turn, you reached for him, weakly grasping his sleeve.
“We need to talk,” you told him, and watched as he glanced to the door making sure Sam wasn’t listening in. When you were both satisfied that you wouldn’t be overheard, you spoke. “Don’t go getting any ideas about last night. It - it shouldn’t’ve happened, it was just -”
“I get it,” he cut in. “I’m an alpha, you’re an omega. It’s just biology. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Good ‘cause it can't happen again,” you said, barely able to even look him in the eye as you spoke.
His jaw clenched and, for a moment it almost seemed like he was angry - or maybe he was disappointed. It was hard to tell. Either way, it seemed like your words had more of an effect than you’d anticipated.
“Fair enough,” he said, his tone quickly becoming more distant, somehow colder. “I was just trying to help.”
“I don’t need your help.”
It was a stupid thing to say because you both knew it was entirely untrue but, at that exact moment, you believed your own bullshit.
“Clearly,” he remarked sarcastically, “you seem to be doing great on your own.”
When you didn’t seem to have a witty response for him, Bucky pulled away from you, breaking your hold on him, and you watched as he left the room, pulling the door shut behind him. All you could do for a few minutes was stare at the door, wondering if you’d somehow managed to hurt his feelings.
“She seems -”
“She’s a pain in the ass,” Bucky finished the thought for Sam, stalking away from the closed door.
Sam just watched Bucky for a moment as he grabbed the box with the pie and headed towards the kitchen. He waited a beat before following after, watching Bucky as he removed the pie from the box and cut himself a large slice without offering any to Sam.
“Okay, this is passive aggressive even for you,” Sam remarked, nodding at the pie, indicating he wanted a slice.
Bucky huffed before cutting his friend a slice significantly smaller than his own and stalking back into the den, taking a seat on the sofa to eat.
“Listen, if this is getting to you, I can watch her and you can go do... whatever it is you do when you go off on your own,” Sam offered cautiously as he took a seat.
Sam was too busy breaking off his first bite of pie with his fork to notice the way Bucky was glaring at him but, the moment he looked up, he had his answer.
“Okay,” Sam said, deciding it wasn’t worth starting an argument over, so he changed the subject. “Torres got back to me, he says he still hasn’t found any trace of her or who he really is, but he found out about Berlin...”
The statement was allowed to hang in the air between them, not speaking until Bucky gave some indication that he wanted to hear it and, even when he received that slight nod, Sam hesitated for a moment more.
He pulled out his phone and opened the file that Torres had sent him.
“It was in February, 2009. There was a tech conference in Berlin - but not for your run-of-the-mill iPhones and games consoles. It was all military grade tech,” Sam explained, watching Bucky for any negative reactions or flickers of recollection. “We’re talking big like Stark Tech, Hammer Industries, A.I.M. -”
“I get the picture,” Bucky interrupted.
“Well, there were rumours about some new satellite tech, something that would have allowed whoever had control of it to spy on anyone, to break into any system, to watch anyone they wanted. It was years ahead of its time. From what we can tell it was the sort of thing that a group like Hydra wouldn’t want falling into the wrong hands.”
“So they sent me,” Bucky sighed. “What else did you find out?”
Again, Sam hesitated for a few seconds.
“The crime scene report from the hotel; it says her brother checked in under a false name, assumed to be travelling alone, and the crime scene photos... they show that he put up a fight...”
Instead of explaining it, Sam handed his phone to Bucky, watching as he took in the crime scene photos and the evidence list before going very quiet and very still. He let a minute pass in silent contemplation before he spoke again.
“He was hiding something,” he sighed, his eyes closing for a moment and his head hanging forward, the memories flooding back to him. “I was sent to get everything he had. I got the drive with the schematics but I - I thought he was holding something back. And he was. He was protecting his sister while she hid. I tortured him and he refused to give her up...”
Putting Sam’s phone down, he stood, his slice of pie forgotten and abandoned.
Sam didn’t say anything as Bucky walked towards the window, putting his back to his friend, not wanting Sam to see the pain and self-loathing on his face. But Sam wasn’t prepared to let him wallow.
“So, what now?” Sam asked.
“What do you mean ‘what now’?”
“What comes next, Buck? You know why she tried to kill you, now how are you going to make amends?”
“Don’t start with the therapy-talk, Sam. I’m not in the mood,” Bucky snapped.
“Well you better get in the mood, because there’s a person in that room who needs your help, and if you’re not willing to look after her -”
“I never said that.” Bucky turned back to face Sam, conviction clear in his voice. “Of course I’ll look after her.
------------
You lost track of time the moment you were placed back in bed.
You thought that you could hear their voices through the door but maybe it was just delirium from the fever playing tricks on you. Everything hurt. Your muscles ached and your joints felt stiff, and your temperature continued to climb.
Turning this way and that, you tried to get comfortable, tried to find just the right angle to lay at to make the pain stop.
It wasn’t long before there was something else beneath the pain, that desperate longing that you couldn’t control, that need that had your hand pawing at your thighs, desperate to touch yourself but knowing that, once you started, you wouldn’t be able to stop.
The more you denied yourself, the more it hurt, until it felt like your insides were burning.
You reached for the water bottle on the nightstand, only to clumsily knock it onto the floor and, when you leaned down to try and retrieve it, your vision started to swim.
The next thing you knew, you were on the floor.
There was no telling if it was the sound of the bottle falling or your knees hitting the floor that alerted Bucky, but he was at your side in seconds, swearing and placing his hand on your forehead to feel how hot your fever was running.
“You should’ve told me it had gotten this bad,” he muttered as he scooped you off the floor and started to carry you through the apartment.
“Where are you taking me?” You asked, the words feeling heavy on your tongue.
Bucky didn’t answer, but it soon became clear.
He took you into the bathroom, carrying you into the shower and quickly started up the cold water.
A relieved gasp left your lips at the feel of the cold water on your skin, soaking into your sweat-drenched clothes. Your head dropped onto his shoulder, letting him hold you under the water for what felt like hours. You tried to mutter something, an awkward thank you, but the words came out as little more than incomprehensible babble. Bucky simply shushed you, his arms holding you a little tighter.
It didn’t even cross your mind that you were both still dressed or that the cold must have been uncomfortable for Bucky. It finally felt like you could breathe again, like you weren’t being smothered by the fever. Your eyes closed and you relaxed in his arms, coming to the uncomfortable realisation that moments like this were why omegas needed alphas.
You shifted, moving your head, barely even noticing that you were doing it until your nose was pressed to his gland and every breath you took was him.
Somehow you managed to fall asleep in his arms, and you had no idea how long he held you under the water before drying you off as best he could and returning you to bed.
But you didn’t sleep for long and, when your eyes opened again, you found him sitting on the floor beside your bed, glancing over his shoulder at you as you reached for the fresh, cold bottle of water he’d left on the nightstand for you.
“I remember,” he told you cryptically, looking forward again, facing away from you.
“What?”
“Your brother. That night in Berlin… everything I did...”
There was something in his voice, in the slump of his shoulders, that had you remembering Sam’s words to you, and it made your stomach twist uncomfortably.
“I’m sorry,” he added a moment later. “I understand why you hate me so much now.”
It sounded genuine, it sounded like he really was sorry, like the memory of what he’d done was causing him as much pain as it did you. And you didn’t want to hear it. You weren’t prepared for any of this; after years of seeing him as a monster, having your brother’s brutal murder as your only frame of reference, you found that this contrite, apologetic Bucky didn’t fit the role of the man you wanted to blame.
And it left you annoyed. It left you feeling like all the time you’d spent, the years of your life you’d wasted and the terrible things you’d endured to get to him, to make him suffer, had all been for nothing.
How could you hurt this man who seemed so pained by his own existence?
An awkward, uncomfortable sound escaped you as you laid back, your frustration bubbling over and leaving you at a total loss.
Bucky had no idea what was going through your head, he could only assume that you were still in pain.
“It’s going to get worse, isn’t it?” He asked with a noticeable hesitation. “It gets worse after the halfway point, right?”
“Have you been Googling heats?” At any other time you would have taken a mocking tone, but you were too exhausted and overwhelmed to even think about it.
With Bucky so close, you found it harder to control your baser desires, the omega part of you that craved an alpha, that craved him. But Bucky didn’t even seem to notice.
“Yeah, I -” he let out an awkward sigh, “- I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before and I know last night wasn’t... I mean, I know you didn’t...”
Not wanting to watch him struggle, you decided to put him out of his misery and move the conversation along, if only because talking was better than thinking and you needed something to keep your mind from straying too far.
“You’ve never had an omega before?” You asked.
“Not... not like this,” he said but didn’t go into any detail about what that meant. “In the decades that I was with Hydra, they mostly kept me on ice, and I didn’t exactly get to meet anyone.”
Silence fell and he moved, lifting himself onto his knees and turning to face you. Before you could ask what he was doing, you saw him reaching for the bowl of water and the washcloth. He gently pressed it to your burning cheeks and, for a few minutes he seemed content to remain silent, but it didn’t last.
“It’s because of the suppressants, isn’t it? That’s why it’s so bad,” he asked, and you confirmed his suspicions with little more than a glance. “Why did you take them for so long?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“Because being an omega fucking sucks,” you said with a sigh. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to feel weak and helpless all the time? To have people look at you like you only exist for a single purpose?”
He took an awkward breath, then answered. “More than you know.”
For a moment you considered his words, considered the implications. He’d been a killer, Hydra’s attack dog, only ever let off-leash when he was needed to kill someone. It had been his life, his purpose. The sense of understanding you felt was uncomfortable, further confusing how you felt about him. And you hated it. You didn’t want to feel sorry for him, you didn’t want to feel anything at all.
“At least you’re an alpha,” you said grimly, “you get to fuck instead of being fucked.”
“It still doesn't explain the suppressants.”
“I started taking them because I didn’t want to get stuck being some alpha’s omega again...”
“Wait...” it took a second but he finally seemed to start putting it together. “You and Rumlow?”
You gave only the slightest of nods. Bucky didn’t say anything, but his silence made it obvious that he wanted you to explain.
“I was trying to track you down the Winter Soldier. I didn’t realise he was Hydra when I tried to buy information from him.” You couldn’t look at Bucky as you spoke, as the anger started to slip into your voice. “He promised he would help me, he took me in and - I was young and stupid, and by the time I realised I was trapped, it was too late. He wanted to claim me, but I rejected him, so he did the next best thing and kept me...”
From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of his vibranium hand curling into a tight fist.
“He disappeared in the blip and I got away. Since then I’ve done everything I can to present as a beta.”
“Why is he after you now?” Bucky asked.
“I don’t know. I guess when you were looking into me, it must have flagged something somewhere, and he came looking,” you answered, feeling your stomach knot at the thought. “Brock, he - he doesn’t like to lose and he doesn’t like to be told no. He thinks I’m his...”
“Well, he’s not getting you back,” Bucky stated with an angry certainty that you didn’t understand.
You looked at him, not sure you wanted to ask and, by the time you’d decided that you probably should, it was too late. He got to his feet and headed for the door, telling you to shout if you needed anything.
For a time you just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything that had happened, everything that was still happening.
You had wanted Bucky to suffer for killing your brother, but you wanted to be the cause of that suffering, not his own remorse over his actions. And, again, you found yourself thinking back to your conversation with Sam, the way you’d had to concede that it hadn’t even been Bucky who killed your brother.
Round and round, there was no escaping all the thoughts and questions in your head, all the things that made you angry and the things you couldn’t control.
And, soon enough, it became hard to think about anything but the torture your own body was putting you through. Your temperature started to rise again and you squirmed awkwardly, pressing your thighs together, slick starting to soak through your underwear.
Then you remembered the bags by the bedroom door, the clean clothes Sam had brought for you.
On shaky legs you made your way out of the bedroom, expecting to find Bucky on the sofa but, instead, you could hear the shower running again - why was he showering again? The thought quickly left your mind as you started rummaging through the bags. One bag was filled with womens clothes and the other -
Fuck.
The backpack was basically a bio-weapon, filled with Bucky’s clothes, shirts and sweatpants that hadn’t been laundered. And, before you knew what you were doing, you’d taken one of his shirts and were heading back to your nest with it, not thinking to close the bedroom door behind you, suddenly consumed by your baser urges.
Falling onto the bed, you pressed his shirt to your nose and inhaled his scent.
You hated yourself for how much you craved him, how much you wanted to be wrapped up in his scent, in him. You twitched and squirmed, that awful, longing ache burning through you again. It wasn’t long before your hand was reaching between your thighs and soft whines started to escape you.
At some point the shower stopped, and your eyes opened to find Bucky in the doorway, wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his waist, his eyes fixed on you. Just the sight of his exposed chest and abs, still damp from the shower, was enough to cause a dramatic spike in your arousal.
Despite your embarrassment, your hand kept moving, fingers strumming your clit through your slick-soaked panties while you held his shirt to your nose. And Bucky watched.
“Bucky...”
That moan was all the invitation he needed to cross the room. Even as he came to stand over you, your fingers didn’t stop, in fact they got faster, desperate. More little whimpers and moans escaped you, but he didn’t touch you, didn’t attempt to give you what you needed, what you craved. He just watched and his gaze alone was all it took to break your resolve.
“Please?” You finally begged.
“You sure you want my help again, little mouse?”
You nodded. Despite everything you’d told him after the last time, you nodded. Desperately. Enthusiastically.
Bucky didn’t need any more than that, climbing onto the bed and kneeling between your legs. His hands felt cold as they slipped up your thighs to pull away your wet panties. (Somewhere in the back of your mind you realised he’d been having a cold shower, but in your needy, muddled state, you couldn’t understand why.)
Without hesitation or ceremony, a cold metal finger ran through your folds before sinking inside you, moving slowly, as if he thought you needed warming up.
Your head dropped back on the pillow and your hips started to move against his hand, desperate for more. You were so caught up in the feeling, in the need for more, for everything, that you didn’t realise he’d lowered his head until you felt his heavy breath against your inner thigh and you felt the slow drag of his tongue over your thigh gland.
A desperate moan tore from your lips, your eyes opened and you looked down to see him between your legs. The sight alone was enough to cause you to clench around his finger and leave you on the precipice of orgasm.
Without thinking, your hand reached for him, tangling in his hair. His eyes stayed fixed on yours as his tongue ran along your gland again, this time licking higher, groaning against your skin, letting out sounds that made it seem like he was the one in need instead of you.
You jolted, back arching the moment his tongue found your clit. His free hand pressed on your stomach, pinning you down while his vibranium hand continued to slowly fuck you with a deliberately teasing pace. His tongue moved just as slowly, causing you to whimper and keen, your fingers tightening in his hair, trying to pull him closer.
The pressure built up in you slowly and the sounds you were making got more desperate and eager.
You just about screamed when he started to suck your clit and bent his finger inside you, finding that sensitive spot, causing you to come almost instantly. As you trembled and shuddered, your hand reached for his hand on your stomach and pulled it upwards, pushing up your baggy tee-shirt and placing it on your breast. Your other hand remained in his hair, holding tight, ensuring that his head stayed between your thighs.
He stilled for a few moments, letting you ride out one orgasm before starting to lead you towards the next. A second cold, metal finger slid inside you with ease, your back arching a little, your own fingers twisting in his hair and tugging harder.
You’d told him never again, but after the second orgasm pulled from you by his fingers and his tongue, some part of you knew you wouldn’t survive if you never got to experience this bliss again.
After the third orgasm, he finally lifted his head and slowly started to move up your body, and you let him. No, you encouraged him, tugging on his hair until his face was only inches from yours. You both hesitated as he looked down at you, his fingers still fucking you at that delicious pace.
“It’s just biology,” he muttered softly, as if he was giving both of you permission to give in to each other.
Finally, you lifted your head, your lips clumsily crashing into his and igniting a desperate kiss that seemed to go on and on, until a final fourth orgasm was pulled from you. Even then, as his fingers stilled and finally slipped from your trembling body, his lips lingered against yours, and your fingers remained tangled in his hair
When your body slumped back, exhausted, Bucky remained above you for a few moments more before finally withdrawing, getting up and leaving the room, and leaving you more confused than ever. But at least some of the pain had subsided.
He wasn’t gone for long.
After a few minutes he returned fully dressed and with two plates, each with a slice of pie.
He placed one on the bed beside you before sitting back down on the floor next to your bed. Despite what you’d just done, now that it was over, he seemed to want to maintain a polite distance.
“Gracie’s apple pie?” You muttered, tired but definitely hungry enough to eat.
Bucky gave a hum of acknowledgement. “She said it was your favourite.”
You fell silent, staring at the pie, thinking about the life you could have had; the murder plot aside, you’d liked working at Gracie’s and you liked the friends you’d made. But it was all gone now. You couldn’t go back and tell them you’d been lying to them about who you were just to get close to Bucky.
You were going to be alone again.
And that thought hurt.
“At least I get to have it one last time,” you muttered as you sat back against the headboard and started to eat.
“Last time?” He repeated, confused.
“It’s not like I can go back after... y’know all the lies and everything,” you said.
“I think they’d be a lot more understanding than you think,” he offered through a mouthful of pie.
“Right, I’ll just come out and tell them that the sweet little omega act was all a lie, and I was only being nice to them so I could get close enough to kill you,” you retorted.
Honestly, you might have laughed if it hadn’t made you feel so pathetic and alone.
“Sometimes people are willing to forgive a lot if you apologise,” Bucky shrugged.
You weren’t sure if he was suggesting that you should forgive him or trying to let you know that he’d already forgiven you. You didn’t ask. Both of you fell silent while you ate. And, not long after finishing, you managed to fall asleep again.
------------
The sound of muttering woke you up. You quickly realised that it was Bucky. He was laid on the floor in his boxers with nothing but a pillow for comfort, thrashing and grumbling in his sleep, obviously having a nightmare. He must have decided to sleep on the floor to be close in case you needed him in the night and - fuck, you didn’t even want to think about how that made you feel.
All you knew for certain - all you were willing to admit - was that you hated seeing him like that. As someone who knew what it was like to be plagued by nightmares, you wouldn’t have wished it on your worst enemy.
You half-fell out of bed, landing on your hands and knees, before slumping down beside him. Moving closer, you pressed yourself into his side and draped your arm over his body, your face against his neck, nose inches from his gland.
He quickly stilled and you heard a sharp inhale as he woke up.
“What -” he started, sounding exhausted and confused.
“Shut up,” you half-demanded, half-begged, not wanting to explain it to him.
He didn’t say anything else. A moment later, his arm was around you, pulling you closer. Instinctively, your leg moved over his thigh, tangling your bodies together. His hand pressed against your cheek for a moment before brushing your hair away from your face.
“You’re burning up,” Bucky muttered, “do you need -”
“No, just - just don’t move,” you whined, wanting to hold him, wanting to feel safe in his arms even though you knew it was the most dangerous place for you. “Just... please don’t move.”
“Okay, mouse...” he muttered softly, shifting just a fraction so you could share his pillow.
Slowly but surely, you felt him relax and, as he did, you did too, shifting closer so his thigh was pressed between yours. Right then, you didn’t need or want more than that, you were content just feeling his body against yours.
But, like every other still moment that you’d managed to find during your heat so far, it didn’t last.
After a few hours you woke to that awful, cramping sensation in your stomach. He was still sleeping, still holding you so tight, and you didn’t want to wake him but his thigh between yours became impossible to ignore. You started to move slowly, grinding yourself against him, slick quickly soaking your panties and his thigh. At first you tried to be gentle, but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t what you needed.
Bucky woke to find you desperately grinding against his thigh like a feral, horny animal. If you hadn’t felt so desperate, you would have felt your cheeks burning with shame. But you were desperate and you needed something to stop the pain. You needed him.
He didn’t speak, didn’t ask what you were doing, he just pressed his thigh against you and turned his head toward yours. As your head fell back, his lips pressed to your throat, kissing, licking and sucking their way towards your gland, and causing you to let out a desperate moan.
You pressed closer still, until the only way you could get close enough was to straddle his lap. You weren’t shocked to find that he was hard - it barely even crossed your mind, too deep in your own desperate needs to think straight anymore. His hips lifted, pressing against you as you both started to move, each of you seeking something from the other as you slick quickly soaked through your panties and began to wet his boxers.
Leaning back, you pulled off your top and led his vibranium hand to your breast, moaning as a cold metal thumb brushed against your nipple. You kept him trapped beneath you, your hands on his chest, holding him down, as if you really thought that you could restrain him. But Bucky let you, he stayed exactly where you wanted him, letting you take what you needed from him.
Your moans got wilder and more desperate, his name slipping from your lips over and over again as you neared orgasm. His flesh hand gripped your hip as he continued to grind up against you, letting out little grunt and groans of his own as he stared up at you through the gloom.
As you came you felt his cock twitch between your thighs and heard his own gasped moan, and you realised that he’d come too.
You collapsed on top of him, your body trembling from your release, slick now coating your thighs and his, and something else, something soaking through Bucky’s boxers. Sprawled against his chest, you buried your face against his neck, breathing in his scent, and clinging to him, not willing to let go. Bucky’s arms wrapped tight around you, holding you as you shook and shivered, and finally fell asleep again.
End Note : Anyone who doesn't read my Billy Russo fics, and didn't see me mention it there, I just want to give a heads up that I broke a key off my laptop (the T key for anyone interested) so I'm having to use a laggy bluetooth keyboard to write atm. Sorry if any weird typos have slipped through, it's probably because of the keyboard. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter!!
And thanks so much for the likes/comments/reblogs on the last chapter, it really means a lot to me!
If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, let me know!
Tag List : @greatenthusiasttidalwave @bighappypiels @maddiedrmr @dreadfulxives18 @scott-loki-barnes
Plot Summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?
Chapter List : CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT
Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?
Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Angst and smut (but it's not angsty smut). All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 7.9k
A/N : 😭😭 This is the last chapter which is why it's so freaking long (I probably should have turned it into two chapters but nevermind). I hope you love it.
CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN
MASTER LIST
Chapter Eight
You didn’t sleep.
Despite knowing that, for the first time in years, you were finally safe, you didn’t sleep.
Every time you closed your eyes you saw him, you felt his teeth on your neck and his hands on your body.
Every time you closed your eyes you felt helpless and alone.
So, instead of sleeping, you dug out your sketch pad and started to draw. It was a mindless task to begin with, your hand seeming to move of its own accord, drawing the same thing you’d drawn countless times before; the Winter Soldier.
It had started as a way to remember, a way to get the violent images of your brother’s murder out of your head but, now, the man you were sketching wasn’t the cold, mechanical assassin who tortured your brother without blinking. He was Bucky. With soft blue eyes, filled with care and sadness. And, now, you needed to get him out of your head for very different reasons.
The hours blurred until, finally, you fell asleep at the table, pencil dropping from your hand.
A few hours later you were woken by the sound of a door closing and you crept to your peephole just in time to see Bucky leaving his apartment.
Your heart almost stopped as he paused and stared directly at your door as if he knew you were there. Then you saw him inhale through his nose like he was trying to find your scent. Only it wasn't there, with your gland gone, your scent was too weak to linger, and that thought made your chest hurt.
A moment later, he was gone.
For the first day you remained hidden away in your apartment but you knew you couldn't survive like that. You were still owed a fortnight's worth of wages from Gracie’s and you knew that you would need the money if you were going to find a new place to live.
The second day, you managed to slip out of the building unnoticed and get to Gracie’s without being recognised, and lingered outside in the cold for five long minutes, working up the nerve to step inside.
The moment Gracie saw you, her arms were around you and she was babbling about how worried she'd been and how the handsome alpha who used to walk you to work had told her you'd been hurt. Bucky. Bucky had been in to tell her that you were hurt - who else had he told?
You kept your hood up, covering your neck and most of the bandaging. She barely let you get a word in edgeways and, even though you knew it should have been heart-warming that she cared so much, all you felt was numbness knowing that you'd deceived her.
“I just need my last paycheck,” you finally managed to tell her.
“I'll get it for you and don't you worry you can come back to work whenever you're feeling up to it.”
“Back? No, I - I'm not coming back,” you said, confused and feeling worse than ever.
“I know it probably feels like that now, but you'll start to feel like yourself again in no time.”
You stood dumbfounded, not wanting to argue, not wanting to tell her that this was you and there was no going back to the person you'd been pretending to be. Gracie had always been so sweet and kind to you that you didn’t have the heart to ruin things between you.
With your paycheck she gave you an apple pie, commenting on how you looked like you hadn't been eating. You tried to refuse, then tried to offer to pay, but Gracie wouldn’t have it. She ushered you out the door, telling you to head home before the weather turned.
Unfortunately, you could have done with that warning sooner, as the skies seemed to open the moment you were halfway home. Cold rain quickly soaked through your clothes and threatened to soak through the pie box too.
And that wasn’t even close to the end of your bad luck.
“Mouse!”
You heard the call just as the elevator doors were closing and, for a brief and wonderful moment, you thought that you’d get away, but a hand slipped between the doors before they could close.
Nikki stepped into the elevator and you found yourself shrinking back.
“Didn’t you hear me?” She asked.
“I -” you didn’t know what to say so you stopped talking and just let out a sigh.
There was a moment of silence and you didn’t even notice that Nikki didn’t hit the button for her floor.
“Bucky told us what happened,” she said.
“Okay,” was all you could think to answer with.
Again, you felt like you had at Gracie’s; like the moment was happening to someone else and you were just watching it unfold, knowing that there was nothing you could really do to change the predetermined outcome.
“You lied to us.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” She asked.
The elevator dinged, the doors slid open and you started to move towards your door, completely on autopilot. Nikki followed after, not saying another word. And, as you stepped into your apartment, you left the door open so she could follow.
Kicking off your wet shoes, you made your way to the kitchen to put the pie box down before shrugging out of your wet hoodie, letting it drop to the floor. You didn’t realise your mistake until you heard Nikki inhale sharply at the bandaging around your neck.
“What happened?” She asked.
“I thought Bucky told you.”
“He said you’d been hurt, but he didn’t know how bad it was.”
You almost shrank back as she closed the distance to look at you, and you saw her face drop as she took in the sight of you.
“It's fine,” you muttered, shivering.
“Nothing about any of this is fine,” she said, ducking her head a little as she tried to get a better look at the bandaging.
You sighed knowing that she was right, but also knowing that it didn't matter anymore.
“What do you want, Nikki?”
“I wanted to see if you were alright, which clearly you're not.”
For the first time since you’d met her, you heard anger in her voice; anger that was directed at you. Your stomach knotted as you were, once again, stuck confronting the life you could have had if you hadn’t gone after Bucky.
“Does it matter anymore?” You asked, not bothering to hold back a tired, resigned sigh.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Bucky told you that I lied about everything, so why do you even care if I'm alright?”
“Because you're my friend.” She said friend, but the tone of her voice didn’t exactly carry the warmth of friendship.
“I'm not though, am I? You don’t even know me.”
“So you’re telling me that it was all lies? Every single second?”
Were you? Some part of you wanted to say yes, to act like you hadn’t enjoyed her and Jade’s company, that you’d just used the pair of them. But you couldn’t. It wasn’t true. It hadn’t all been an act, you did like them, and you regretted ever lying to them.
“No, but -” you took an awkward, shuddered breath, trembling from the cold of your damp clothes, “- I’m not that person. I’m not just some weak, dumb omega.”
“I never thought you were weak or dumb,” she countered, sounding genuinely offended. “None of us ever thought that.”
You could have had this, they would have accepted you. The thought comes to you unbidden and unwanted, and it’s enough to have you turning away from her, bracing yourself on the kitchen counter.
“Is that really what you thought?” Nikki continued. “That we only wanted you around because we thought you were some silly little omega who couldn’t look after herself?”
“That’s all anyone ever sees,” you answered back, tone turning sharp. “Poor little omega who needs to be protected because she can’t take care of herself, silly little omega who just needs an alpha, dumb little omega who -”
“Shut up. You’re the only one here who thinks any of that shit.”
“No, I’m not. Bucky thinks it,” you said softly, keeping your back to her. “He only sees me as an omega.”
“You’re wrong,” Nikki said, continuing when you let out a huff of disbelief. “You haven’t even seen him since you got back, have you?”
“No, why would I?”
“He’s a mess because of you, because of what happened to you. He cares about you.”
“Yeah, well, that doesn’t matter anymore either.”
“How can you say that, after everything he’s done to try and help you?”
The anger had been slowly building, but now it seemed like it had reached a boiling point. Nikki was pissed and some part of you felt like maybe you’d been deliberately trying to rile her so she’d lose her temper and leave. But instead of leaving, she was standing her ground, trying to convince you that you were wrong.
“Because it doesn’t matter anymore,” you said again, finally turning back to face her, letting her get a good look at you, at how broken you were. “Even if I wanted to be what he wants me to be, I can’t. The man who took me, he...” tears seemed to come from nowhere, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to stay in control. “They had to remove my gland, I - I can’t even... I can’t...”
You started to turn away again, not wanting to face her until you had your emotions in check again, but before you could, Nikki’s arms were around you, pulling you into a tight hug.
“It’s okay,” she said softly.
“It’s not - it’s not. He broke me and I - I fucked everything up. Bucky just wanted an omega and I can’t even be that any more. I’m... I’m nothing now,” you sobbed.
It all started to come out, the upset and the trauma, the part of you that couldn’t come to terms with what had been done to you.
“You’re not nothing,” Nikki told you firmly. “You’re my friend.”
It didn’t matter, the words barely even sank in. You were lost to your spiralling thoughts but, after a few minutes, you managed to pull away from her.
“I’m - I’m fine,” you said, awkwardly scrubbing at your cheeks with your sleeve, doing your best to pretend your little outburst hadn’t just happened. “You should... you should go.”
“No,” was Nikki’s answer. Straight to the point. “I’m not leaving until I’ve gotten some answers.”
For a few seconds you just stared at her, wanting to argue but too exhausted to even get the first word out.
“Go sit down before you fall down,” Nikki ordered. “I’ll make a pot of coffee.”
You did as you were told, going along with it simply because it seemed easier than arguing. From your seat, you watched her moving around your kitchen as she had done so many times before. You were so tired that you didn’t even think to clear the table as she sat down and pushed a mug towards you.
“What’s this?” She asked, reaching for the stack of sketches you’d left on the table before you could stop her.
You felt your cheeks start to warm as she looked over the first few pages; some newer ones of Bucky, and some older of the Winter Soldier the night he killed your brother. For a few seconds you felt frozen before awkwardly trying to claw the sketches back.
“It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Nikki countered, her expression somewhere between a smirk and worry.
“You said Bucky told you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m starting to think maybe he didn’t tell me everything. So, why don’t you start from the start?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re adamant that I shouldn’t think of you as my friend anymore, and I want to know exactly why,” she answered with a shrug.
For a moment you looked down at the drink she’d placed in front of you, your cold hands wrapping around the mug as you let out a heavy sigh.
“Fifteen years ago, the Winter Soldier killed my brother...”
You started from the start, telling her about your brother’s murder and how your quest for revenge had landed you with Rumlow, before explaining how you’d tracked Bucky down after the blip and concocted a plan to get close enough to kill him.
Then, in less detail, you explained the last couple of weeks, and how Bucky had cared for you during your heat. Nikki stayed silent, letting you explain it, right up to the hospital, then you just trailed off into a shrug.
“You didn’t let him see you?” She asked.
You shook your head and, instead of answering, you lifted your mug and took a drink. You’d been speaking for so long that your coffee was almost cold.
“Why not?” She asked.
“I don’t want him to see me like this, I don’t -” you hesitated for a second as you voice broke and your eyes threatened fresh tears, “- it’s just too much. Everything’s changed and there’s no way to fix it.”
“You’re not the only one who’s hurting,” Nikki said softly. “No matter what you think it’s pretty fucking obvious that he cares about you. And you -” she waved at the stack of sketches, “- you’ve clearly got unfinished business with him.”
And then, without warning, before you could even think to say anything, she was getting to her feet.
“Nothing you told me has changed anything,” she said decidedly, “we’re still friends.”
Speechless, you could only watch as she started to head towards the door. You didn’t know if she had somewhere to be or if she’d realised you desperately wanted to be alone - whatever it was, you were glad she was leaving.
“But,” she started again as she reached the door, glancing back at you over her shoulder, “as your friend, I think you owe it to yourself to talk to Bucky.”
She left before you could protest, before you could even tell her that you were planning on leaving and that it really didn’t matter anymore. You were left more confused than ever, not understanding how she could just shrug off everything that you’d done and declare that you were still her friend.
Didn’t you get a say? Didn’t you get to decide how she - how anyone - saw you?
(No. No, of course you didn’t. All this time you’d been trying so hard to control other people’s perception of you, but you were starting to realise that it was impossible.)
You spent the rest of the day in your apartment, looking for new places to live that you could actually afford (there was nothing). You ate some of the pie that Gracie had given you and, in the evening, you ended up at the table again with a pencil in hand.
You just wanted him out of your head; you wanted to forget the softness in his eyes before he’d kissed you that last time, and you wanted to forget how that softness had been replaced by fear and worry the last time you’d seen him as he’d been handing you off to paramedics. You’d always felt empty, but never like this before.
Again, you woke up slumped over a half-finished sketch, a half-hearted attempt to capture his smile on paper. Looking at it in the cold light of day, you weren’t happy with it. It seemed flat and dull, and it didn’t fill your stomach with butterflies the way his rare, happy smiles did.
A hot shower and a change of clothes had you feeling... well, not entirely human but functional at least. Washing around the bandages was a nightmare that had you choking back tears. It was almost funny how you could force away the thoughts of what had been done to you, only to find yourself retraumatised the moment you saw the bandages or moved your neck in such a way that it caused you pain.
The next issue to overcome was your kitchen. You’d never been one for stocking up and, what little you had had in the fridge had gone bad in the weeks that you’d been away, leaving you with nothing but the last of the apple pie to eat and, as much as you liked Gracie’s apple pie, even you knew that you couldn’t survive on it
So, again, you decided that you’d brave the outside world.
You pulled your hood up and slipped out into the hallway but, as you went to lock the door, the keys slipped from your fingers. As you leaned down to pick them up, you heard Bucky’s door open and you froze, caught between thoughts of diving back into your apartment and fleeing down the hallway.
Indecision saw you doing neither and, instead, you picked up your keys and remained awkwardly frozen. You didn’t turn to look or lift your head, you just stood there.
“They let you out of the hospital,” he said, though there was an unspoken question behind his words; why didn’t you tell me?
You let out a soft sigh. “No, I - I checked myself out.”
“You checked yourself out?” He repeated, almost sounding worried. “Are you - are you okay?”
The shrug you gave was lost somewhere beneath the oversized hoodie. It was pointless to get into it and you were certain he wouldn’t understand. You’d never be alright again,
“Can we just -” he started again, an awkwardness filling his tone, “- can we talk?”
What was there to talk about? What was left? Still, you didn’t look at him.
Oh.
“I’m not going to try to kill you again if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Of course that was it. Of course that was all he cared about.
Not waiting for his answer, for his relief, you started to walk away from him, feeling like you’d said all that needed to be said to him.
“Wait, that’s not -” he sighed, following after you, his hand finding your wrist and stopping you in your tracks, “- that’s not what this is about. You know that’s not what this is about, don’t you?”
His hand gave a tug on your wrist and, before you could think better of it, you obliged him and turned back towards him, still keeping your head down and your face obscured by the hood.
“Then what, Bucky?” You asked, not sure you wanted him to answer. “What happened was - you said it yourself, it was just biology. I’m an omega, you’re an alpha. Neither of us were thinking straight.”
“I was. And I think you were too, at least for the moments that count.”
You shook your head and took a step back, pulling away from his grasp.
You knew what he was talking about, all those little moments when you’d let your guard down; the night you’d slept in his arms on the floor, the time you’d fallen asleep with your head on his lap as he talked you through the pain, and the way you’d fucked him that final time, offering yourself to him.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you answered back bitterly, knowing he wouldn’t want you if he knew about your injuries.
What alpha in their right mind would want an omega that couldn’t be claimed or mated?
“What are you talking about? Of course it still matters, it’s -”
“He ruined me, Bucky,” you interrupted. “They had to remove my mating gland. Now, I - I can’t even...”
Your voice broke and you forced yourself to stop, unwilling to cry in front of him, unwilling to show any more weakness.
While you’d never liked being an omega, never liked feeling like your only purpose in life was to be mated to some alpha, now you felt like only half a person. You weren’t even an omega anymore, you were something less than that. If you couldn’t be mated, you’d never be loved.
Three weeks ago that wouldn’t have bothered you but, since coming to terms with your brother’s death, you suddenly felt like your life was empty and there was nothing left for you.
“Let me see,” he asked softly.
You shook your head but made no effort to stop him as he stepped closer, and you didn’t pull away as his hand slowly pushed your hood down. You looked off to the side, refusing to make eye contact as his fingers ghosted over the bandaging. When you still refused to look at him, his hand cupped your cheek and he silently urged you to face him.
“This doesn’t change anything,” he told you with a certainty you hadn’t expected.
“Of course it does,” you said, taking a step back, out of his grasp again, acutely feeling the warm touch of his hand on your cheek. “I can’t even pretend to be a good little omega for you like this.”
Realisation hit him like a ton of bricks, almost flooring him. Those three little words that he’d let slip in the heat of the moment, exposing what he wanted, what he wanted you to be for him - not you as you were, but a good little omega.
His mouth opened but, for a few seconds, no words came out.
“That’s why you ran? Because I said that?”
It didn’t matter how he meant for it to sound, you only heard it the way you wanted to hear it; he thought you were stupid, he thought it was your fault for running off and getting yourself caught by Rumlow. You only had yourself to blame for not wanting to be a good little omega.
You turned and started walking away, feeling sick to your stomach.
“Stop, c’mon, just talk to me. Please,” he pleaded, following after you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve said it. I didn’t mean it like -”
“I’m not what you want, Bucky,” you said as you hit the elevator call button. “I wouldn’t play the good little omega for you even if I could.”
“Good,” he said, moving to stand in front of you, between you and the elevator doors, desperately trying to get you to look at him. “I don’t want an omega, I want you. The rest doesn’t matter.”
“What about biology?”
After all, that was what had started all of this, wasn’t it? If it hadn’t been for your heat the two of you would never have started getting close. And, now, you couldn’t satisfy his biological desires to mate and claim.
“Fuck biology. I’m not exactly a regular alpha, am I?” He answered back before repeating; “this doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes everything for me, Bucky,” you tried to explain. “I’ll never belong, I’ll never be loved, I’ll -”
“I love you,” he admitted clumsily and, suddenly, you felt like you were suffocating.
You took a step back, shaking your head, the emptiness inside you feeling like it was growing bigger, turning into a gaping chasm beneath your ribs.
“Don’t say that! Don’t lie to me!” You said, your voice cracking and breaking under the strain of it all.
“I don’t need to put a mark on your neck to know that I love you,” he carried on. “I don’t need you to belong to me, I want you to want to be with me.”
“Stop it! Stop saying that. You don’t love me. You can’t.”
Before he could answer, the elevator doors slid open and you quickly pushed past him, trying to get away. But Bucky followed after you, not willing to let you walk away.
“Don’t tell me how I feel,” he said, almost snapping. There was an anger in his tone that you hadn’t really heard before. “I’ve spent enough of my life being told how to think and feel, and I’ll be damned if I go back to that.”
“You don’t love me, Bucky. How could you? You don’t even know me,” you replied, hitting the button for the ground floor, far harder than necessary. “It’s not love, it’s some dumb alpha urge to claim an omega, and you can’t. No one can. Brock saw to that.”
“Will you just fucking listen to me? I don’t care about claiming you. I care about you,” he answered back without hesitation. “What are you so afraid of that you won’t even hear me out?”
Something inside of you snapped at those words and, before you could think about what you were doing, you were shoving him, your open hands slamming against his chest, barely moving him. Again and again, as hard as you could and, when he still didn’t move, you balled your fists and started to bring them down against him.
You weren’t afraid.
You weren’t weak.
You weren’t that scared little omega who hid away while her brother was being murdered.
You weren’t the pathetic little omega that Brock Rumlow had kept for all those years.
You weren’t the weak and tired little omega who couldn’t stop him from tearing your gland.
And you weren’t the sad little omega who’d cried because Bucky had left her to get breakfast.
You weren’t those things anymore. You couldn’t be that person anymore.
“I’m not afraid! I’m not afraid of anything!” You screamed as you hit him. “I’m not some scared little omega who needs protecting. I’m not -”
His arms closed around you, pulling you close, stopping your assault on him.
A sob clawed its way from your throat as you tried to escape his hold, but Bucky just held you tighter. Everything started to come out. You just couldn’t hold it back anymore.
“I know,” he said softly, “I know you’re not. You’re the bravest person I know, and I’m so sorry that I fucked up. You’ve always been so much more than an omega to me. I only said it because I thought that was what you wanted; I thought you just wanted an alpha. When you asked me if it was just about biology, I should have been honest. It was never about biology for me.”
And, just like that, he managed to turn everything you’d believed on its head.
You had thought that you were nothing more than an omega to him and, all the while, he’d thought he was nothing more than an alpha being used to help you through your heat. How had you both gotten it so wrong? You managed to look up, at him, at the pained look on his face and all you wanted was to understand.
But it was too late.
You knew that you couldn’t handle the pain of almost having him and losing him again, not now, not after everything that you’d been through.
“Mouse, I -”
He didn’t get a chance to finish.
The elevator doors slid open and you squirmed from his grasp, heading for the door and out onto the street, pulling your hood up as you went. You didn’t even stop as almost knocked over Nikki and Jade on their way into the building, and you certainly didn’t stop when you heard voices calling after you.
You lost yourself for hours, wandering through New York, ducking into the busy crowds of the city, losing yourself in the noise and the bustle - anything not to think about what had happened and what Bucky had told you.
It felt cruel. It felt needlessly nasty for him to tell you that he loved you now that you couldn’t ever really be with him.
But, on the other hand, there was something else, something hopefully that you didn’t dare think about.
What if he really could love you as you were; unclaimable, unmateable?
It was dark when you returned home, exhausted and without the food that you’d originally left to get. You slipped into your apartment and wanted nothing more than to fall into your warm bed and sleep until all of your problems went away.
So, of course, you should have known that wasn’t how the evening was going to go.
The knock on the door came about fifteen minutes after you got in. At first you tried to ignore it but whoever it was wouldn’t stop.
Finally, you checked the peephole and saw Nikki and Jade standing in the hallway, not looking like they were planning on leaving before seeing you.
“Go away,” you muttered loud enough for them to hear.
“I don’t want -” you started only to find yourself interrupted by Nikki.
“You can either open up, or we can spend the rest of the night out here banging on the door, mouse.”
You knew that they would. You knew that you wouldn’t get a moment of peace until the pair of them got what they wanted.
With a sigh, you unlocked the door and slowly started to open it. That little gesture was more than enough to have the pair of them barging into your apartment before you could even think about reconsidering.
The moment you were hit by the smell of Thai food, your stomach let out an uncomfortable grumble.
As you closed the door, they made their way to your kitchen, grabbing plates and cutlery, before moving to the table and starting to set out the food. And you just watched, knowing there was nothing you could possibly say or do to stop them. You didn’t even flinch when Jade started to stack your sketches, taking a moment to look at them.
“You were right, these are really good,” she said to Nikki, and your cheeks instantly started to warm. “Have you shown them to Bucky?”
Your head shook and your gaze dropped, not wanting to think about the alpha across the hall or his declarations of love.
You were beckoned to the table and you took a seat as your favourite Thai dish was placed in front of you, along with a glass of wine.
“Not that this doesn’t look great but... why are you doing this?” You finally asked.
“Because you’re our friend and I saw how empty your cupboards were yesterday,” Nikki shrugged, tucking into her own meal. “You’ve been through a lot and we wanted to make sure you’re looking after yourself.”
“And you looked upset earlier,” Jade added softly.
“And that,” Nikki agreed. “So, are you gonna tell us what happened, or should we ask Bucky?”
With a sigh, you slumped back on your chair, not even managing to take a single bite of food before the conversation shifted to that awkward place. They were Bucky’s friends, you had to remind yourself, of course they were worried about him.
(But, clearly they were your friends too, otherwise they wouldn’t have brought you your favourite food, right? Could it really be possible that they wanted the best for you and Bucky?)
“He told me he loves me,” you confessed, voice quiet, feeling uncertain about saying it aloud as if you were scared it would sound completely ridiculous coming from your mouth.
“And what did you say?” Nikki prompted.
You stalled by reaching for your wine glass and taking a long drink, but they waited, neither of them saying a thing.
“I told him that he couldn’t love me, I’m not -”
“That is such bullshit.”
“Nikki,” Jade said, chastising her girlfriend for her tone, but Nikki didn’t seem to care.
“Of course he loves you. Look at everything he’s been through for you,” Nikki said. “If you don’t love him, that’s fine, that’s your choice, but you don’t get to dictate how he feels about you.”
She was right.
You hated that she was right, hated that it reminded you of what he’d said about people telling him how to think and feel. You were no better than the people who’d hurt him.
“I can’t be what he wants me to be,” you tried again, not really sure who you were trying to convince anymore.
“What does he want you to be?” Jade asked.
“What did he ask you to be?” Nikki added, almost as if she could sense you were going to answer with what you thought rather than what Bucky had told you himself.
“Me,” you answered, your voice turning quieter still. “He said he just wanted me to be me.”
Your stomach hurt and it wasn’t the hunger pangs causing it.
Bucky wanted you.
He was the first person to ever want you.
He wanted you even now with your gland gone.
He wanted you, even though you had nothing to offer him.
It was never about you being an omega or him being an alpha. He saw you as a person and he’d let you see him as one too. And, for that, you’d tried to push him away.
A tear rolled down your cheek and, instead of continuing the conversation, you reached for your fork and started to eat.
Nikki and Jade stayed silent, letting you process everything, letting you reach your own conclusions in your own time. You didn’t look at them, but you could feel their gazes wandering to you every now and then as they ate. There wasn’t much to say after that though, for the rest of the meal, you found yourself thinking over every little moment you’d shared with Bucky, re-examining it under a new lens.
He’d brought you your favourite cereal.
He’d held you under the freezing cold water of the shower to help with your fever.
He’d always let you decide what you wanted from him, he’d never once tried to push or tried to convince you, and he’d only ever kissed you when you let him.
He’d trusted you enough to tell you about his time with Hydra.
If he’d wanted an omega, he could have claimed you the last time you’d had sex. You’d offered him your neck, your gland, and if he hadn’t said those three little words, you would have let him claim you.
When the conversation started up again, it was muted and you only half listened as Jade and Nikki spoke, clearing up the mess before letting themselves out. Nikki lingered in the doorway, telling you she’d be back tomorrow and all you could offer in response was a nod.
Already, you were starting to understand that there was no getting rid of her and, now you’d had a chance to think about it, you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to be alone anymore.
You were left with your thoughts and you kept circling back to the same thing. Bucky.
A few hours had passed since Nikki and Jade left when you found yourself slipping out of your apartment and into the hallway, eyes fixed on Bucky’s front door.
His scent lingered outside his door, stronger than you remembered it ever being. You found yourself closing your eyes and breathing it in, remembering what it was like to be wrapped up in his arms, face pressed against his neck, basking in his scent.
Before you could second guess or change your mind, you stepped forwards, knocking on his door.
Ten seconds passed - long enough for you to take a step back, to start to think you might be making a mistake. But then the door opened.
Your eyes went wide when you saw him, wearing nothing but his boxers, his skin flush. He took one look at you and, suddenly, you felt breathless, smothered by his scent and inexorably drawn to him. Shit, you realised entirely too late, his rut had hit.
“What?” He asked.
You could see his knuckles turning white where he gripped the door, anchoring himself in place, like he didn’t trust himself not to reach for you.
“I just - I -” you started and stopped, struggling to find the words. “I wanted to say I was sorry.”
“For what?”
And that was the million dollar question, wasn’t it?
“Everything. What I said earlier, how I’ve been acting, I -” you shook your head. A moment later, you noticed the way his chest was rising and falling and you knew that it was a stupid time to try and have a heartfelt conversation. “A-are you okay?”
“Fine, just -”
“Your rut?”
Bucky nodded.
Part of you wanted to shrink back, to retreat to your apartment, but another part of you was sick of running.
Instead of stepping back, you stepped forward, pushing against the door and into his apartment. Bucky moved out of the way, a confused expression on his face. But, despite his uncertainty, you could tell he was still in control of himself. You could tell that you’d always be safe with him.
He let the door fall shut as he turned to face you, not moving towards you, letting you decide what you wanted - if you wanted anything at all.
And that was precisely why you took a step towards him, closing the distance so you could place a hand on his bare chest, right above his racing heart. His skin was hot to the touch, clammy, but it was nowhere near as bad as you had been expecting. His rut must have only just started in the last couple of hours.
“Did you mean it?” You asked softly.
“Every word. I love you.”
You leaned closer, wrapping your arm around his waist and resting your head on his chest. Bucky pressed his nose into your hair and inhaled deeply, as if you were his and your scent alone would see him through this. But the second he realised what he was doing, he pulled back a little.
“What are you doing here?” He asked.
“You helped me...”
“Help? Is that all it is?” His voice betrayed his pain at the thought and had your stomach tying itself in knots.
“I - I don’t know what it is, Bucky,” you confessed, lifting your head to look him in the eyes again. “I want to be here. I want to be with you, but I can’t be yours...”
“I don’t need you to belong to me. I just want you to let me love you.”
“What if I can’t?” You asked, giving away your insecurities. “I don’t know how. What if I fuck it up?”
“You won’t,” he answered. “Can we just try?”
Despite your fears, you managed a nod, and it was all the sign that Bucky needed.
His hands framed your face and he kissed you. He kissed you like it was the first time all over again, he kissed you like a man starved of affection, like a man who really did love you. You pressed closer to him, both arms wrapping around his waist as you finally surrendered to what you wanted.
“Tell me this is okay?” He muttered against your lips. “I don’t want to rush you or hurt you.”
Your heart bled at his compassion, the way he was putting you first even though he was going through his rut, and you knew that he’d stop if you asked him to. But you didn’t. You didn’t want it to stop. No, you wanted something good to finally come from all the bad.
“It’s okay,” you said. “Please, don’t stop.”
He lifted you off your legs quickly wrapped around him as he carried you into the bedroom.
It felt like that first night all over again, only this time you weren’t going to ruin it.
He sat with you on his lap and, already, you could feel the press of his erection between your thighs and it was enough to cause you to squirm, your hips eagerly rocking against his. Little moans and whimpers quickly started to spill from your lips and into his, but it wasn’t enough.
(When it came to Bucky, nothing would ever be enough.)
Pulling back a little, you sank to your knees between his legs, tugging his boxers down. You were sure to keep your hands where he could see them, your fingers gripping his thighs as you bowed your head and parted your lips. Bucky’s fingers tangled in your hair, but he didn’t try to move you, he let you go at your own pace.
A low and breathy groan spilled from him as the tip of his cock slipped between your lips and you started to lightly suck, running your tongue over his slit and lapping up everything that leaked from him.
Looking up at him, you felt yourself wanting to submit, wanting to give yourself to him in whatever way that you could. His heavy scent already had slick pooling between your thighs, eager to feel him inside you again.
One of your hands moved to grip the base of his cock as your lips sunk down it and you felt him twitch in your mouth, the thick vein on the underside of his shaft throbbing with every little move you made.
You started slowly, bobbing your head and dragging your lips up and down him, letting out the sweetest little moans for him, while Bucky panted and groaned like he was already on the brink. Your eyes watered as he nudged the back of your throat, but you didn’t let that stop you, you just blinked and carried on.
His mouth went slack and you could see him fight against himself, desperately trying to hold back. That was when you doubled down. Hollowing your cheeks against him, you moved faster, chasing your lips with your hand, making sure no inch of his cock went untouched.
“Fuck, mouse, I’m -” he tried to warn you but it was too late.
Bucky groaned your name as his cock started to pulse, his hip bucking upwards as he started to fill your mouth. You stayed where you were, lips wrapped tight around him, your eyes fixed on his.
(Fuck. How were you only just noticing how beautiful he was when he came?)
Finally, you sat back on your heels, wiping your lips with the back of your hand as you looked up at him.
“So that’s what that feels like when you don’t try to stab me,” Bucky joked breathlessly, a ridiculous grin tugging at his lips.
You tried your best to suppress a laugh, but it managed to escape you. And it reminded you why him, why you wanted this (whatever this ended up being).
He reached for you, helping pull you back onto his lap so he could kiss you again, groaning as he tasted himself on your lips. Almost immediately, he was hard again, and you were quickly tugging off your shirt and bra.
“Mouse, are you sure?” He asked again, barely able to pull himself from your lips.
“Yes, Bucky,” you told him just as desperately. “I want you.”
He turned, dropping you onto your back on the bed and pulling off your leggings and panties, leaving you completely bared to him. Without thinking or waiting for him to say anything, you got on all four, presenting yourself to him, but you quickly found yourself flipped onto your back again.
“I want to see your face, mouse. I want to see all of you,” Bucky told you.
You watched as he crawled onto the bed and over you, his hands and lips skimming up your stomach and over your chest until he was above you.
As you pulled him down into another eager kiss, he slipped a hand between your legs. You gasped against his lips as two fingers slid into your slick pussy and started to grind yourself against his hand, desperate to show him that you wanted this.
You were already so worked up from sucking his cock that you easily fell apart for him, and you knew that was precisely what Bucky wanted from you. He wanted you to be ready for his cock and, while he was doing everything he could to try and make this about your pleasure as much as his own, you could tell his rut was taking its toll on his patience.
You moaned his name when you felt the press of his cock at your entrance and arched your back at the all too familiar feeling of him slowly filling you. Your arms wrapped tight around him and your thigh hitched on his hip. It was perfect, amazing. It was all you’d ever need.
He stilled inside you once you’d taken every inch, staring down at you, checking for any signs of discomfort.
“It’s okay,” you said in a low whine. “I’m okay. Bucky, please -”
Bucky didn’t make you beg (though you were sure you would have). His hips started to move, slowly at first, but the gentle pace didn’t last for long. You eyes rolled back and your back bowed, pressing your body against his as he finally gave in to his base instincts and let his rut control him.
It didn’t take much for you to come again, crying out beneath him as he fucked you through your orgasm, letting out the filthiest sounds you’d ever heard from him as he did. Every drive of his hips forced a moan from you, and every sound was in worship of him and what he was doing to you.
“Fuck, Bucky!” You almost screamed, not even caring to think about how half the building might be able to hear you.
He kissed you to stifle some of the noise that you were both making and it wasn’t long before you were coming again for him, your body seeming to want to completely submit to him and everything he was doing.
After an unspecified amount of time, his thrusts started to become shorter, more desperate.
“Mouse...” he warned, his voice an awkward gasp, not stopping or slowing.
Rationally, you knew what letting him come inside you meant during his rut, but you didn’t want to think rationally. You wanted this. You wanted Bucky. You wanted to submit to him and take his knot.
“Don’t pull out,” you finally gasped, your fingers pressing into his back, holding him tight against you.
There was no telling if it was your words or just the fact that he’d been close, but the moment you finished speaking, you felt him start to pulse inside you. The sensation alone was enough to push you into another orgasm, your walls fluttering and trembling as you felt his knot start to swell inside you, trapping you together.
Your eyes rolled back and a series of desperate moans spilled from you.
“Alpha,” you groaned, giving yourself over to him completely, your eyes closing.
Your head moved, presenting your bandaged neck, even though you knew he couldn’t mark you or claim you. His hand gripped your chin, turning your face towards him as he leaned in and kissed your lips.
“I love you,” he groaned into your mouth before kissing you again.
When he finally came up for air, he pressed his forehead to yours, still panting, still completely overwhelmed. You reached up, fingers running through his sweat-damp hair, just as overcome by the moment as he was. You’d never experienced a moment like this and you quickly understood why.
“I - I love you too, Bucky,” you confessed.
Your arms gripped tight around him, letting him know that you didn’t want him to move, that you were happy with the weight of him on top of you while his knot locked into place and he came inside you, his cock twitching as it pumped you full. You nuzzled against his neck, intoxicated by his scent, completely overwhelmed in a new and amazing way.
“Stay with me,” he asked breathlessly. “Not as my omega, but as the person I love.”
“Yes,” you answered without a second of hesitation.
End Note : And that's the end😭 I've had a blast writing this. I never thought I'd enjoy writing omegaverse this much so that's been an interesting discovery. I might come back to this and write an epilogue but I'm actually pretty happy with where this ended; it's open enough that I can come back to it for a second fic but it's also sweet enough that I don't think (or at least I hope) no one is disappointed??
Thanks so much for sticking with this, I really hope you've enjoyed it. I know I'm not great with comments and reblogs but I promise I do read every response that I get even if I don't get around to replying and it's really meant so much to read everything you've all had to say about this one! (also same goes for comments on Ao3)
I do have a potential idea for another Bucky fic in future, so feel free to stick around for that (it won't be until the new year because working retail over the holidays is draining enough without starting a new fic).
As always, reblogs/comments/likes/asks are always appreciated. Thanks so much for reading, hope you have a great day!
Tag List : @greatenthusiasttidalwave @bighappypiels @maddiedrmr @dreadfulxives18 @scott-loki-barnes
Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?
Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Forced claiming bites and very subtle allusions to SA (neither are graphically depicted), and some blood/injury mentions. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5.4k
A/N : 😭😭 sorry this too so long. Also sorry for being terrible about replying to comment on last chapter, work has been kicking my ass.
CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX
MASTER LIST
Chapter Seven
There was a hollow place in his chest, carved out and left to fill with rot and decay. It had been there for as long as he’d been himself again, the space that used to be occupied by the Winter Soldier, by violence and bloodshed.
Little by little, he’d been trying to fill it, trying to become whole again.
And, for a brief moment, he’d dared to think it was working.
For a few sweet minutes, he thought that hollow inside him might be filled by you and the feelings you’d caused to grow inside of him.
It played over and over in his head; the moment he’d fucked up and ruined everything.
You’d looked so - fuck, he wasn’t even sure what the look was. Hurt. Angry. Betrayed. Scared. All the things he never wanted to make you feel, all the things that made the alpha in him feel sick. He was supposed to protect you, supposed to look after you, and what had he done instead?
He’d tried to claim you without consent. He’d tried to take more than you wanted to give.
That thought caused him nothing but pain of the worst kind, forcing him to realise that Bucky was no different from the Winter Soldier. They both hurt you and neither cared.
Only, that wasn’t entirely true. Bucky did care. Of course he did. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have felt so bad. But reality came a close second to his feelings of self loathing.
Not only had he tried to claim you - wanted to claim you - he’d then abandoned you. You were suffering through your heat and he’d just walked out and left you there. God only knew how you were coping on your own.
Fuck, he hated himself, but it wasn’t enough to make him return to the apartment for another two hours.
Something felt off the moment he stepped inside.
The bathroom door was open, so was the door leading to your room, but your scent seemed weaker than it should be and, before he even reached your bed and found it empty, Bucky knew that you were gone.
You’d run.
He knew that it was all his fault.
He moved back towards the door, already knowing it was too late to try and catch your scent, but he had to try. You were gone. Almost as if you’d never even been there to begin with.
In his panic, he called Sam, and the conversation that followed was a rushed garble of words that, ultimately, resulted in Sam telling Bucky that he’d be there in ten minutes, but Bucky wasn’t prepared to wait. He was going to head back to your apartment and look for you there.
Sam met him outside, already on the phone to Torres, trying to track you down after Bucky found your apartment empty.
Bucky felt like he was crawling out of his own skin, his chest tight with worry as he tried not to think about all the terrible things that could happen to an omega in heat out in the city on their own.
“Torres says a police report was filed outside your apartment building a couple of hours ago,” Sam relayed as Torres continued to speak on the other end of the call. “A taxi driver reported seeing the omega that he’d just dropped off being forced into the back of a car. The taxi driver confirmed picking her up outside the safehouse and that she was in heat.”
“Does he know what kind of car or the direction it went - anything?” Bucky asked.
A smile quickly grew on Sam’s lips.
“Even better, Torres is going through street cameras tracking where they took her...” Sam said, his attention returned to the call, listening as Torres worked. “You’re sure? Okay, great. I owe you one.”
“Well?” Bucky asked before Sam could even end the call.
“Gravesend, Brooklyn. There’s a warehouse. Torres is going to call back with more intel,” Sam answered, already moving towards his car.
“Fuck,” Bucky said, his voice a frustrated growl. “You got the suit?”
“Yeah, it’s in the car.”
“Get the fucking suit, Sam. I’ll meet you there.”
“You sure?”
“The longer she’s with him, the more time he has to hurt her,” Bucky said, already heading for his motorbike
“Should we call it in? Get back-up?” Sam asked.
“No. Not yet. We don’t know he’ll react.”
He started the engine and paused, watching as Sam pulled on his wings, waiting to see if the other man had any further questions.
“You care about her, don’t you?” Is what Sam chose to ask, reminding Bucky of that gnawing emptiness inside of him again.
Bucky didn’t answer, he simply put in his ear piece and peeled away from the curb.
Following the speed limit, he knew the drive could take almost an hour. But Bucky wasn’t going to follow the speed limit.
It wasn’t long before he saw Sam fly overhead and, despite his best efforts, there was no way of keeping up with the wingsuit while weaving through traffic. But the journey passed in a blur - twenty minutes of splitting his attention between other vehicles on the road and how he was going to apologise to you when he saw you again.
Sam tried to make conversation through the earpiece but Bucky wasn’t interested. He was single-minded in his need to rescue you and fix what he’d broken.
By the time he reached the warehouse, as directed by Sam, Torres had managed to give them a pretty good overview of how many ex-Hydra goons were inside and what hardware they had.
It wasn’t well set up, clearly you were the only reason they were even in New York. In some ways that made it better, but also so much worse. Rumlow wasn’t going to give you up without a fight. Add to that the fact that you were still in heat and Rumlow was an alpha obsessed with you...
“Hey, are you even listening to me?”
Sam’s voice broke through Bucky’s internal panic, almost causing him to flinch.
“Where’s your head, Bucky?”
“It’s right here.”
“Oh really? Then what did I just say?”
“You’ll drop in from the roof, I’ll sneak in from the back,” Bucky answered, hoping he hadn’t missed anything.
“Getting her out is the mission,” Sam said. “Dealing with Rumlow comes after.”
“Agreed.”
Before Sam could continue, Bucky started to move, knowing that they’d already wasted more than enough time. You’d been with Rumlow for over three hours and he knew that anything could have happened in that time. More than that, he knew you; he knew you were a fighter, that you liked to get under people’s skin, and he wasn’t sure how Rumlow would deal with that.
He jumped the fence with ease, landing with a cat-like grace, barely making a sound.
The sun was already starting to set and that made things a little easier for him. Bucky channelled years of training and muscle memory, slipping behind one guard and leaving him incapacitated. If Torres’s intel was right, that left another fifteen men, including Rumlow.
“I’m inside,” Sam said through the comms. “She’s definitely here, I can, uh, smell her.”
Bucky’s stomach knotted as he tightened his grip around the throat of a second goon until he went limp in his grasp.
All he could think about was getting to you, barely noticing anything or anyone that got in his way. He forced open the door and managed to drop another one of Rumlow’s men. It felt like he was losing himself, giving himself over to the part of him that was still the Winter Soldier. He didn’t care if he hurt anyone, didn’t care if he took it too far.
“Bucky, upstairs. I’ve found her, she’s not -”
The sound of gunfire echoed through the warehouse, the element of surprise finally wearing out. Bucky took off at a run, heading towards the stairs.
“She’s what, Sam?” He asked, worry filling his tone.
A goon appeared from a doorway, only to find a vibranium fist slammed into his chest, knocking him backwards and halfway through the room he’d been leaving. His other hand was already reaching to unholster his gun.
He headed up the stairs, onto the walkway, heading towards the sounds of fighting.
When a knife flew towards him, it was instinct alone that had Bucky catching it mere inches from his face.
“Good to see you again, Soldier.”
The voice caused the hairs on the back of Bucky’s neck to stand and his features twisted into an angry snarl as Rumlow stepped out onto the walkway.
“Where is she?” Bucky asked in a barely contained growl, throwing the knife to the ground.
He took in the sight of Rumlow, his heart threatening to stop at the sight of blood on his shirt.
“She’s exactly where she’s supposed to be,” he answered.
Rumlow started to step forward, closing the distance and Bucky did likewise. Bucky lifted his gun, getting off a couple of shots but, in close quarters, it was easy for Rumlow to knock the gun from his hand.
Both men quickly threw fists, both hitting their mark. Bucky staggered back, momentarily shocked by the power behind Rumlows hit.
The gauntlets. They were making him stronger.
Rumlow needed a second to recover, but both were toe to toe again in a matter of seconds.
This time Bucky feinted, swinging his fist but changing to a knee at the last second, slamming Rumlow into the railing. Then came the punch, super soldier strength, forcing Rumlow to take a step back.
Rumlow retaliated, bringing his foot down against the side of Bucky’s knee, forcing him to stagger backwards to regain his balance. But, for Bucky pain was secondary, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for getting to you. He needed to save you.
He drove forward again, landing a blow to Rumlow’s kidney before grabbing his shirt and forcing him back against the railing, managing to lift him off his feet.
That was when it hit him, the cloying and sickly scent that was all over Rumlow - it was you, but not the you that Bucky knew. There was something wrong with the scent, something unpleasant, something sour. It reminded him of distress and despair, of pain and suffering.
“What did you do to her?” Bucky demanded.
Rumlow laughed. “Nothing she didn’t deserve.”
He took advantage of Bucky’s momentary lapse in concentration as he worried about you. Rumlow kicked out again, this time wheeling Bucky around so that he was the one pressed against the railing.
“Can’t believe you came all the way here for another alpha’s omega,” Rumlow grit out, reaching for another knife and driving it into Bucky’s shoulder.
Bucky let out a grunt that was more anger than pain as he let go of any sense of restraint.
“She’s not yours.”
He pushed Rumlow backward before lifting him off his feet again and slamming him into the railing, over and over, ignoring the crack of bones and the rattling sound every time Rumlow gasped for breath. The other alpha went limp in his arms and Bucky lifted him, about to drop him over the side of the railing and to the ground thirty feet below.
“Bucky!”
Sam. It was Sam.
The voice pulled Bucky from his anger.
“Don’t.”
“Why not?” Bucky dared to ask, the question catching even himself by surprise.
“I’ve got back-up on the way, they’ll take him to The Raft, he -”
“He doesn’t deserve that.” Bucky snapped, his eyes fixed on Rumlow’s face, on the blood bubbles that formed at the corners of his lips every time he tried to draw breath
“You’re right, he doesn’t,” Sam said. “But you don’t deserve to have his death on your conscience, and there’s an injured omega through there who needs you.”
It was all he needed to hear to let Rumlow go, letting him drop onto the walkway, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to move with the damage that Bucky had inflicted. In the distance he could already hear the sirens. Rumlow would pay for what he’d done, just not in the way that Bucky would have preferred.
But Bucky still didn’t know exactly what Rumlow had done, and that thought had him quickly moving past Sam, following the scent that was you but not you into a small room. Another scent soon filled his nose; the coppery tang of blood.
You looked so small, huddled in the corner of the room on a small camp bed, a bloodsoaked scrap of fabric pressed to your neck.
“Mouse?”
He was at your side in an instant, though you seemed unable to fully focus on him. Your lips parted but no words came out.
“Come on, I’m going to get you out of here,” he told you.
Bucky wrapped his arms around you and lifted you, ignoring the knife wound in his shoulder and the blood soaking through his shirt, quickly carrying you out of the room and out of the warehouse where the sirens were getting louder.
“It’s okay,” he told you, over and over, even though you’d lost consciousness at some point. “I’ve got you. I’m sorry, mouse. I’m so sorry.”
“Bucky...” you managed in little more than a soft sob.
“It’s okay, you’re safe now. You’re safe, mouse. Just hold on to me.”
You did as he asked and wrapped your arm around him as tight as you could while keeping the cloth pressed to your neck.
For the second time that day, he lost himself to the blur of it all as you were quickly loaded into an ambulance and the EMTs started to work on you. They wouldn’t let him travel to the hospital with you, but Sam quickly made sure he was pushed into the back of a second ambulance to have his stab wound dealt with.
------------
Your eyes opened and for the briefest moment, you felt nothing but relief; your heat was over and the pain in your abdomen was finally gone. But once your eyes started to focus and you realised where you were, you started to remember.
The monitor at your side started to beep wildly as you desperately tried to sit up.
Hospital.
You were in the hospital.
The cold, sterile smell filled your nose and it was almost enough to make you vomit.
There were hands on your shoulders and voices trying to settle you, but none of it got through to you. You wanted to sit up. Get up. Run.
The beeping seemed to get louder and more frantic. Your neck hurt as you tried to move and you found yourself clawing at the bandages, too panicked to remember what had happened to you. Breath caught in your chest as you struggled, desperate for freedom, desperate to escape the new hell that you’d found yourself in.
You heard someone say something about sedation and, after a few seconds, things started to get blurry and you quickly slipped into darkness.
The second time you woke the panic set in slower, your mind finally clear enough to think, to remember. You were in the hospital. You were safe.
Well, at least a little safer than you had been.
You’d never liked hospitals and the letters OEC painted on the walls did nothing to help settle you.
Months of your childhood had been lost in rooms like the one you currently found yourself, hours and days spent being made to feel weak. Broken.
When your hands dared lift to your neck again, it was gingerly and with the sort of hesitation that came from not knowing if you really wanted to know. Fingers brushed over gauze and bandaging and the slightest pressure had you wincing.
Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to fight back the memories that began to flood back. Brock had tried to claim you. He’d bitten you. Over and over, trying to force you to submit.
You wretched, only just managing to lean over the side of the bed in time, bringing up nothing but fluid. At some point someone else entered the room and there was soon a bucket held out for you until, finally, your stomach completely emptied itself.
The doctor helped you settle back in bed and quickly took your temperature.
“Your heat symptoms have finally abated,” she said, sounding quite happy about it.
“How - how long have I been here?” You asked, your voice raspy and dry.
“You were brought in two days ago,” she explained, pouring you a glass of water and handing it to you, “we had to operate immediately and, because of your heat, we had to keep you sedated yesterday to allow recovery.”
Operate? It was still so fuzzy, it was always harder to remember things that happened during your heats, but this felt like something else. It almost felt like you didn’t want to remember, like some part of you already knew that you were better off not remembering.
You took a slow drink before you spoke again, your throat feeling like it was full of sandpaper.
“What’s wrong with me?” You finally dared to ask, causing her to stop dead beside your bed. “What - what did he do to me?”
The doctor set you with an uncomfortable look which caused your stomach to coil and tie itself in knots. Bad news. It had to be bad news.
She took a breath while you tried to ignore the tears that were prickling at the corner of your eyes.
Not bad news. Awful news.
“When you were brought in, you’d suffered severe trauma after rejecting several forced claiming bites” she said slowly, gently. “There was extensive tissue damage around your throat and neck, particularly over your mating gland. The surgeons did everything they could, but they were unable to repair the damage that had been done to your gland and, ultimately, they had to remove it.”
She continued talking a little while longer but her words were nothing more than a static hiss in your ears as the memories started flooding back.
He’d tried to force a claim on you, over and over, his teeth at your neck, tearing at skin. You’d refused him, denied him. You remembered bleeding. You remembered the pain, begging him to stop.
(You remembered Bucky holding you, carrying you to safety.)
“My... gland?” You said. “It’s gone?”
“I -” she took a slight breath, “- I’m afraid so.”
“What does that - I mean, how can I -” you tried desperately to understand what you wanted to ask, to understand what had been done to you and how it was going to affect you going forward.
“There’s no easy way to put this,” again she hesitated for a beat, “without your mating gland, you will never be able to be claimed or mated.”
The words left you feeling numb, even though some part of you didn’t really understand why. You’d never wanted to be claimed, never wanted to mate. You’d always tried so hard to reject the omega side of you but, now, you felt broken.
“But,” the doctor continued, her tone perking up a little, as if she wanted you to know it wasn’t the end of the world, “you’ll still be able to have a normal life; you’ll have your heats, you’ll still be able to bear pups. Though you may find your scenting is affected...”
Again, your mind drifted away from what she was saying, watching as her lips moved but not hearing a single word. Soon enough your gaze was drifting away from her, looking at the wall, at that garish OEC sign, hating that you were there.
You hated everything in that moment, every little thing that had led you to that point in your life. It felt like everything was unravelling and you had no idea how to stop it.
Your eyes snapped back to the doctor in time to catch her question.
“The alpha who came in with you is still in the waiting room, would you like to see him?”
Still? He’d been sat out there for two days?
------------
“You don’t have to stay,” Bucky said, for at least the fiftieth time that day.
Since being patched up and checked over, Bucky had remained in the hospital waiting room, only receiving the barest of updates about you. He knew that you’d been taking into surgery straight away and that you’d been taking into recovery a few hours later, and they’d told him that you’d been kept under sedation so your heat symptoms didn’t cause complications, but that was all.
He had no idea the extent of your injuries or how effective surgery had been.
Of course, he understood that he wasn’t next of kin, that he was really nothing to you, but it frustrated him no end not knowing if you were really okay.
Sam had been home to sleep, and he’d tried to get Bucky to do the same. But there was nothing that anyone could say or do to get Bucky to leave that chair. He wouldn’t leave you, not again.
(Never again.)
“How about I stay and you go get some rest?” Sam countered. “I can call you if anything happens?”
“No,” Bucky answered, not even considering it. “I’m not leaving her.”
“You’re going to be no good to her if you make yourself ill, Bucky,” Sam answered back. “Just because you’ve got that cyborg brain doesn’t mean you don’t need to rest.”
Normally he’d roll his eyes at Sam’s dumb jokes, maybe even say something pointed in response, but Bucky was tired. More than that, he was worried.
“This is my fault, Sam. I can’t just leave her.”
“It’s not your fault, Bucky. You’re not the one who hurt her and beating yourself up over it isn’t going to help anyone, least of all her.”
Bucky shook his head. “I fucked up, Sam. I lost control. I tried to claim her when she didn’t want it and that makes me no better than Rumlow.”
In the time that they had spent in the waiting room together, Bucky had explained rather loosely what had happened between you and him, but it was clear to Sam that there was so much more to it.
“You stopped when she told you to. Rumlow didn’t,” Sam stated. “That’s a big fucking difference, Bucky.”
“I left her - she was in the middle of her heat and I -”
“You did what you thought you had to do to keep her safe.”
“But she wasn’t safe, was she? If she’d been safe, none of this would have happened.”
Bucky got to his feet and started to pace, not sure what else he could do with all of his nervous pent-up energy. Sam let out a sigh, knowing that there was nothing that he could say or do to stop Bucky from spiralling right now. He needed time to work through it, but he wasn’t going to allow himself that time until he knew for certain that you were alright.
Sam just hoped that moment would come sooner rather than later.
“They’ve finished processing Rumlow at The Raft,” he decided to change the subject. “After all the shit he’s pulled, he’s never going to see daylight again.”
“It’s still more than he deserves.”
“You still pissed I stopped you from killing him?”
“Yes,” Bucky snapped before pausing a beat. “No.” Then; “I don’t know.”
“That’s not you, Bucky. You’re not that guy.”
Not a killer. Not the Winter Soldier.
(But would the Winter Soldier have let this happen to you? No. The Winter Soldier would have kept you safe.)
“Maybe I -” Bucky started and stopped as the door to the waiting room opened and your doctor stepped inside.
Sam got to his feet, moving to stand beside Bucky.
“She’s groggy, but she’s finally awake,” she said.
“How is she?” Bucky asked.
The doctor took a breath before answering, deciding how much she was able to share.
“She’ll live. Thanks to you two,” she answered. “She’s recovering from the surgery well and there were no complications. Though she is going to have to remain under observation for at least the next couple of days.”
“Can I see her?” Bucky asked.
“She -” the doctor hesitated, “- she’s refused all visitors.”
“No, I need to see her. I need -”
“I understand your frustrations, but ultimately it’s the patient's choice, and given that she’s here because of injuries inflicted by an alpha -”
“That’s why I need to make sure she’s okay,” Bucky tried again, not even trying to hide his frustration.
“Bucky...” Sam said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You need to give her time. She’s been through a lot.”
“I just -” his eyes flitted to the doctor who didn’t look like she was doing to change his mind. “You’re right,” Bucky conceded, not wanting to think about what Rumlow might have done to you and how you must have been feeling.
It turned his stomach inside out to think that you were less than a hundred metres away and he couldn’t get to you. Bucky ached to hold you in his arms again, to apologise for fucking so much up. More than anything, he wanted to confess to you, to tell you that it had never been about biology. It had always been you. He wanted you.
The doctor took a beat, her eyes moving from Bucky to Sam and back again.
“Normally this would be the part where I call the police to report crimes committed against an omega but...” she trailed off, looking at Sam. “Is that necessary with Captain America here?”
“No,” Sam answered. “Everyone involved has already been dealt with.”
“Good, no alpha who’s capable of doing that to an omega in heat should be allowed to walk the streets,” the doctor said.
For a moment Bucky had to wonder just how much she’d seen in her time working in the OEC, and he found himself reminded of everything you’d said about being an omega. Finally, he was starting to understand what it was really like for you. And, more than anything, he wanted to change it.
“Could you tell her that I’m sorry?” Bucky asked. “Tell her that I’m sorry I fucked up.”
------------
Sorry. What part was he sorry for?
You didn’t have the heart to ask the doctor to check for you and, besides that, you were certain she had more important things to be doing than playing messenger between you and Bucky. Whatever he had meant by the comment, you were sure he wasn’t sorry about what you wanted him to be sorry for. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t.
Bucky was an alpha.
Perhaps not the most traditional alpha, but you were almost certain that he had no idea why you’d run from him.
No, he wasn’t sorry about that, wasn’t sorry about reducing you to nothing more than a good little omega. He was sorry that you’d been hurt and, really, even you understood that wasn’t Bucky’s fault.
When the doctor delivered his message, she told you that he was still in the waiting room if you changed your mind and wanted to see him.
He was there the next day too.
And the next.
On more than one occasion you found yourself in tears, still devastated and reeling over what had been done to you. You almost broke, almost asked them to let Bucky in so that he could hold you and tell you that everything was going to be alright.
(It wasn’t. You already knew that it wasn’t.)
You mourned lost opportunities and things that might never have happened - things you’d never really wanted or expected in the first place.
So many times you’d wished not to be an omega and, now, it seemed like you weren’t even that.
And the real irony was Bucky, sitting out in the waiting room, not knowing that you’d been ruined, that you’d never belong to him now. You could already picture it, the pity in his eyes if he saw you again; the poor little omega.
The more time you were given to sit with your new reality, the worse you felt about it, the numbness of shock finally giving away and leaving you to feel the full extent of your trauma. You became despondent to the point that a psychiatrist was sent to assess you.
She asked about you, about your life, and about what had happened to you and, as you always did, you gave half the story and heard all of the things you expected to hear in response; it wasn’t your fault, you shouldn’t blame yourself.
You knew she was right, but knowing it and feeling it were two different things. It felt like it had been your fault. If you hadn’t let your guard down with Bucky, you would have stayed in the safehouse, you would have been able to finish your heat with him, and then you would have been able to leave, able to avoid Rumlow.
Instead you’d let yourself believe that there was something more than biology at play, you’d let yourself hope that he cared, that he saw you as more than just an omega. You’d allowed him the perfect opportunity to hurt you without him even realising it and all because you didn’t want to be a good little omega.
On the sixth day in the hospital, you were brought a bowl of Cookie Crunch cereal, the nurse telling you that the alpha in the waiting room had told him that it was your favourite. Whatever had been holding you together in that moment finally broke and you started to sob uncontrollably, hating that Bucky could care so much without knowing it was too late, and hating even more that he’d come to know you better than anyone had in years in just a few months.
He knew you.
He cared about you, in his own way.
And that just made your heart ache more, knowing that it was too late. Even if you could get over what had happened between you, why would Bucky ever want a damaged omega like you?
Still, every day you would ask if he was in the waiting room and it wasn’t until the eighth day that you were told that he’d left and hadn’t come back.
He’d finally given up on you.
It should have come as a relief knowing that he wasn’t still out there, hoping for a future that was impossible. He’d get over it, get over wanting to claim you, have you as his good little omega. And he deserved to because, as much as you might have hated him only a few weeks ago, you knew now that Bucky was a good man. A better man than you deserved.
You decided to leave the hospital that night, checking yourself out against the doctor's advice. You had no idea where you were going to go or what you were going to do, all you knew was that you couldn’t stay there, couldn’t keep wallowing in your own trauma and self-loathing. You wanted to push it all away and bury it down, just like the first time you’d escaped from Rumlow.
Your apartment was still paid up until the end of the month so, you supposed, that would be the best place to start, even if it meant trying to dodge Bucky while you found somewhere else to live.
It was late when you got home.
His scent lingered in the hallway and caused your legs to tremble beneath you, and your heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze when you realised that your door had been repaired - someone had cared enough to make sure your apartment and your things were kept secure. It wasn’t something you expected and it made you think about what he’d told you, about how people cared.
You cast a longing glance at Bucky’s door, wondering if he was in there, if he was sleeping, if he was suffering through nightmares of finding you covered in blood. Part of you was desperate to go to him but you knew it was too late to say or do anything, too late to change anything. The time for talking had passed and none of it mattered anymore. You couldn’t be what Bucky wanted and he couldn’t give you what you needed.
If you were lucky, you’d be able to save you both the heartache of having to face each other again.
End Note : 😭 I can't believe this story is almost over. I think the next chapter will be the last. I don't know if it'll need an epilogue, but we'll see. Hopefully the next/last chapter will be up by the end of November (it should be quicker to write that this one, I'm just hella bad/slow at writing action). Also I'm really tired so so I'm sorry if any dumb typos slipped through
As always, reblogs/comments/likes/asks are always appreciated. Thanks so much for reading, hope you have a great day!
If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, let me know!
Tag List : @greatenthusiasttidalwave @bighappypiels @maddiedrmr @dreadfulxives18 @scott-loki-barnes
Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?
Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5.7k
A/N : Please don't hate me for the ending 😅
CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE
MASTER LIST
Chapter Six
Everything had changed, though neither of you wanted to admit it.
Bucky lingered close to you, staying in the room with you as you slept. Instead of continuing to look for the men who’d tried to kidnap you, his attention became entirely fixed on you. When you’d stir, he’d softly brush your hair from your face and check your temperature, when you were too hot he’d press the cold washcloth to your cheeks and forehead.
Every time pain or fever woke you, he’d make sure you had something to drink, before sitting with you, stroking your hair and muttering softly until you fell asleep.
And, when you needed more than that, he was more than ready to give it to you.
You were left feeling like something had given inside you, broken even. The walls that you’d put up to protect yourself and the space that you’d tried to maintain all came crumbling down around you. Instead of sharp words, you were gentle with him, thanking him for his help and leaning into his every touch.
There was no telling if it was simply your biological desire to submit to an alpha or something deeper at play and, honestly, you were too exhausted to even think about it. All you knew was that Bucky was there and he was taking care of you. He was keeping you alive.
As predicted, your heat continued to get worse. The pain soon returned and you knew that nothing but Bucky could help you through the pain.
“Bucky?” Your voice came out as a quiet, sleepy rasp in the dim light of the bedroom, the sun slowly starting to rise beyond the curtains.
Your vision blurred from the fever and your whole body tensed as your abdomen started to cramp. He was laid on the floor but you couldn’t tell if he was sleeping. For a solitary gut-wrenching second you feared that he was ignoring you.
“Bucky?” You said again, but your voice was still too quiet to rouse him.
Leaning, you tried to reach for him, misjudging the distance and tumbling out of bed. You landed on your side beside him, the impact causing the pain you were feeling to increase tenfold. But the noise of you hitting the floor was enough to pull him from his sleep.
“Mouse?” He said, worry and confusion warring in his voice as he looked at you, trying to make sense of what was going on.
There was no time to explain, you needed him.
A clumsy hand ran down his body to his boxers, brazenly slipping beneath the waistband to grasp his cock. You felt the immediate reaction, the way he twitched before you even started to stroke him. Bucky let out a groan, momentarily taken aback by what was happening, as if some part of him thought that he was still dreaming.
Until you let out a pained sound.
“Bucky,” you said, the desperation and urgency in your voice telling him exactly what you needed.
“Okay,” he said, sitting up, “let me get you back into -”
“No, now... please...”
You pulled your hand from his boxers and got onto your hands and knees for him, not caring that you were on the hard floor. Right then, you didn’t care about anything other than Bucky taking away your pain and making you feel good.
(Because, whatever you may have wanted to tell yourself, it did feel good and you wanted it more than you dared admit to Bucky.)
He quickly moved behind you, his boxers pushed down his thighs. He pulled your slick-soaked panties to the side and surprised you by sinking two of his vibranium fingers into you.
“Bucky,” you keened, pressing yourself back against his hand, knowing that it wouldn’t be enough.
“I know,” he said softly, “but I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It’s not that big,” you muttered, glancing over your shoulder and flashing him a weak smile.
Yesterday, making a joke like that would have seemed unthinkable or the comment would have been made with venom and bile. It was another example of how you’d softened in such a short time, and the huff of laughter that Bucky allowed to escape his lips was sign enough that he’d softened too.
“Oh, really?” He asked, twisting his wrist so his fingers turned as they thrust inside you like he was trying to prove a point.
You start to answer but you lost whatever you wanted to say to the low moan that escaped you.
“What was that?” Bucky asked, holding back a laugh.
It continued on like that for a few minutes, Bucky’s fingers pushing you to the very brink of your sanity, but they weren’t enough to push you over.
When he was satisfied you were ready and that he wouldn't cause you any discomfort, he pulled back his fingers and you felt him press closer to you. A soft, needy sound spilled from your lips when he dragged the tip of his cock between your folds.
“Please, Bucky,” you whined.
“Please, What?” He asked in a low voice, sounding barely in control as he continued to tease you, letting you take the tip of his cock before pulling back out.
You could tell without looking at him that he was enjoying himself, but you didn’t dare think about why. It didn’t matter, you reminded yourself, it was just biology. You were both just taking care of your biological needs.
“Fuck me,” you said, begging with a neediness you’d never known before.
And, again, you didn’t dare consider why.
He sank into you slowly, groaning and muttering about how much easier it was compared to the first time. Your head dropped onto his pillow, his scent immediately filling your nostrils as you tried to muffle some of the desperate and mindless sounds that escaped you.
Bucky started slowly, making sure you could feel every inch of him in a way that you hadn’t the first time.
You kept your head down as he started to move, his thrusts slowly getting faster, more purposeful, pushing you higher and higher, towards ecstasy. You came easily, your arms almost giving out beneath you. If it weren’t for Bucky’s vibranium arm wrapping around your waist, you would have fallen forward.
His dog tags tickled your back as he slowly leaned over you, trailing kisses up yourspine, along your shoulders and neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. You could hear every grunt and breathy moan that spilled from his lips, and the press of his tongue against your gland was enough to make you cry out.
When his lips reached your jaw, you realised that he was trying to kiss you, that he wanted you to lift your head for him. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.
As much as you wanted to give in to him, to let him give and let him take everything he wanted, you were scared of losing yourself in the moment, of giving yourself up to him in ways that you might regret later.
Bucky got the hint and quickly returned his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking, urging you towards another orgasm. His name fell from your lips as you fell apart for him again. It was enough to have you trembling in his arms, completely boneless and exhausted, your needs sated again. At least, for a little while.
He gently let you go, laying you on the floor as he pulled out and came into a tissue. Then he lowered himself to lay beside you, his fingers softly brushing your hair away from your face.
“You okay?”
All you could do was nod, sparks of pleasure still shooting through your body as you lost yourself in his blue eyes.
His fingers continued to stroke your hair, and he smiled as he watched you slowly start to relax again. It was almost as if he was enjoying taking care of you - a confusing thought that brought a frown to your face.
“What’s wrong?” He asked.
“It’s... it’s just biology, right?” You dared to ask, not sure what you wanted his answer to be.
Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, an unreadable expression on his face. “Yeah, it’s just biology.”
For a few more seconds, he stayed where he was, tenderly soothing you, staring into your eyes like he was searching for something there. It was strange, nothing you’d experienced with him before, and it caused a terrible sinking sensation in your stomach. The more you thought about it, the more you found yourself wondering how you would have reacted if he’d told you that it wasn’t just biology.
You let him lift you back onto the bed and kept your eyes fixed on him as he checked your temperature and made you drink a whole bottle of water. It was almost as if he was suddenly a different man to the one who’d just been inside you, the man who couldn’t keep his lips and hands off you.
Before he could pull away from you, you leaned against his side, resting your head on his shoulder. You weren’t sure what it was that possessed you to do it, but you wanted him to stay close. Biology or not, being with him made you feel better, and you couldn’t stand how distant he suddenly seemed.
Bucky let his own head rest on top of yours and you heard him let out a slow sigh.
“What’s gonna happen?” You asked quietly. “If you can’t find the people after me,” you avoided saying the name Rumlow, “what then?”
“We’ll find them,” Bucky answered, not missing a beat. “No matter how long it takes, I’ll make sure that you’re safe.”
“I mean, what about... after... after all of this?”
He looked at you, confused for a moment until he finally understood what you were trying to ask; what was going to happen after your heat if Rumlow hadn’t been found. Bucky seemed to hesitate, his mouth opening and then closing, as if he had to rethink the initial answer that he wanted to give.
“Like I said, I’ll keep you safe.”
“But, I...” you trailed off, not even sure what you wanted to say.
It was going to be awkward - how could it not be after everything that had happened between you?
When your heat was over, everything would change. There would be no more comfort to be found, no excuse to press yourself into his side, no reason for him to tenderly stroke your hair until you fell asleep.
Because it was just biology.
He was only helping you because you were an omega, because you were too weak and pathetic to look after yourself.
“Have you thought any more about...” Bucky started, then hesitated. You felt him tense against you.
“What?”
“What we agreed to, I guess...” he said with a sigh. “I said I’d look after you through your heat and deal with the guys who are after you, then if you still wanted revenge for your brother you could have it.”
Your blood ran cold at the thought. You didn’t want to think about it. You couldn’t. No matter what you said or did, it was going to hurt; you could either betray your brother's memory and the promise you’d made to yourself years ago, or you could kill the person who’d cared for you and made you feel safe, the man that you were starting to care for.
“I...” the word left you as little more than a choked sound.
“Forget I asked,” Bucky said before you had time to formulate an answer.
“No, it’s not -” you tried again, “- I don’t want to… I mean, I know it wasn’t you. I just...”
“It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it.”
There was something in his voice that you didn’t like, something resigned, like he’d already made up his mind about you and about what you were going to do. And it pissed you off. You hated that you could let him get so close to you when he obviously hadn’t learned anything about you.
“Don’t do that,” you said, pulling away from his side, “don’t act like I’m supposed to have some easy answer for you and then shut the conversation down when you don’t get it.”
Bucky looked taken aback, but you could see the resignation on his face. He didn’t say anything, he just offered you a shrug, gesturing you to continue.
“I don’t know what I want anymore, Bucky,” you confessed, forcing yourself to hold his gaze no matter how awkward it felt. “I don’t think you’re the man who killed my brother and I - I don’t blame you for what happened. But, you have to understand that this is all I’ve known for the last fifteen years. I don’t know what comes after this, and I don’t know how I go on knowing that I couldn’t get revenge for Ryan...”
At some point tears had started to spill and, the second you noticed them, you were angrily scrubbing at your cheeks.
“This is all I have. This has been my whole life. I gave up so much and I - I can’t even...”
It felt like the world was crashing down around you. Forced to realise that the last fifteen years had been a waste, that your years trapped with Rumlow had been meaningless, you felt a desperate sort of emptiness that you hadn’t felt since losing your brother. There was nothing left for you.
Before you knew what was happening, Bucky’s arms were around you, holding you tight. He muttered softly in your ear, telling you that it was alright, that everything would be okay.
“I don’t have anything left,” you murmured, hiding your face against his chest as tears continued to fall.
“You do,” he said softly, “you have people who care about you.”
You shook your head but didn’t have the heart to argue with him and explain, again, why he was wrong. The people who cared about you, the ‘friends’ that you had made, none of them knew the real you, and you were certain that none of them would accept the real you.
A few months ago, you would have been fine with the thought of being alone, but after spending so much time with Bucky, and with Nikki and Jade and all your friends at Gracie’s Diner, you knew you didn't want to go back to that.
Bucky continued to hold you as you silently wept and, after a while you managed to calm down, apologising to him and blaming your outburst on your raging hormones, instead of owning up to the uncomfortable feelings that were brewing inside of you. Lying was for the best; to Bucky this was just biology at play, he didn’t need to know that some part of you was starting to wish it was more.
Eventually he managed to untangle himself for you to go fetch you some breakfast but, by the time he came back, you were lost to the throes of your heat again, your body trembling with the intensity of it.
You tried to hide it from him, but that didn’t last. He’d come to know you too well, at least well enough to tell when you were trying to hide your pain from him.
He helped you up onto your hands and knees and quickly settled himself behind you.
It seemed like every time he touched you, fucked you, Bucky learned something new, some way of pleasuing you that he’d use the next time around. He was attentive and he cared about your pleasure and -
Fuck.
Every time you let him touch you, you felt yourself slipping deeper and deeper into feelings that you knew you couldn’t have. You were just some helpless little omega to him, that was the only reason why he was helping you; he pitied you and he felt remorse for killing your brother. That was it. That was all.
Three orgasms later, you collapsed on your side, panting for breath.
Fortunately, the cereal he’d brought you was still edible and you managed to eat about half of it before you started feeling too exhausted to go on. While you abandoned the bowl to the nightstand, Bucky started to fuss you, taking your temperature again.
“It’s getting worse,” he said, managing to sound both worried and frustrated.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to -”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” he interrupted before you could even think of trying to get rid of him. He hesitated for a second, his voice lowering a little as he continued. “It’s not me I’m worried about, mouse.”
You tried to swallow around the lump in your throat to say something, to tell him that he didn’t need to worry. Part of you was struggling to believe that he was worried in the first place. It didn’t make sense. People didn’t worry about you.
It was easy to get lost in feelings of self-loathing, thinking yourself a burden, nothing more than a weak and pathetic omega. You hated feeling that way, you hated the way your heat and your omega status defined you in that moment.
“Hey,” Bucky said, pulling you from your thoughts. You realised that he’d been talking while you’d been lost in your thoughts. “You understand that, right? That I’m worried about you? That I don’t want anything bad to happen to you?”
“I get it,” you said, nodding.
“I’m gonna stay here with you in case you need me.”
“What about -”
“Sam’s got his best guy trying to track Rumlow down, don’t worry about it,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere when you still need me.”
Again, you nodded.
“We’ll get through this,” he told you.
We.
Bucky tried to give you some space and tried not to hover around you, but after the third time you’d called him to you, he decided to stay exactly where he was, collapsed on the bed beside you. It seemed that you’d managed to wear the super soldier out and that was definitely saying something.
For a time you’d managed to sleep beside him, lulled to sleep by his hand tenderly stroking your hair. After you’d drifted off, Bucky must have closed his eyes because, now, he was dozing beside you. He looked so peaceful and, after what you’d put him through over the last few days, he needed a rest, but the pain of your heat started to grip you again and you knew you needed him.
Instead of waking him, you crawled onto his lap and started to rock your hips, pausing only for a second as he woke up.
“I’m sorry,” you muttered, your hips still moving.
“It’s okay, mouse,” he answered softly, his cold vibranium hand finding your waist. “Do you want to -”
“No.”
You didn’t want to turn around a present yourself like an omega, you didn’t want to pull away from him and lose the feel of his body against your for even a second. Especially not when you felt him start to get hard. His eyes met yours and you found yourself getting lost in their blue depths again.
Bucky helped you lift yourself, gripping the base of his cock with his flesh hand and holding it stead for you to sink down.
You heard his breath hitch in a way you hadn’t before, his eyes seeming to take in every flicker of emotion to cross your face as you lowered yourself onto him.
It felt different this time - it was the position, the fact that you were on top and in control. It had nothing to do with the fact that you could see his face or that he was holding you instead or gripping you.
Pausing once you'd taken him all, you rocked your hips again. You weren't sure you'd ever get used to the feeling of him filling you, and you weren't sure you wanted to. You’d started to love the ache and the way your body strained around him. It was like he was made for you, though you hated that thought the moment you’d had it.
Your hands gripped his shoulders and, for the first time, you found yourself really taking in the sight of him, his broad chest, the dog tags that hung around his neck and - oh. The scarring on his shoulder. Your hand pulled away from that shoulder, scared of causing him any discomfort, even though you knew that his injuries were decades old.
“Hey,” he said softly, his soft, warm hand cupping your cheek. Your eyes found his again and he offered a gentle smile, noticing your concern. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
Was he? Could he ever be?
You didn’t know where any of those thoughts or feelings were coming from, and you knew they’d cause you nothing but problems. But you didn’t care. Things like common sense and self-preservation didn’t matter in that moment, all you could think about was his pain and how you didn’t want him to be in pain.
“Hey,” he said again, holding you tighter as he leaned in to kiss you, pulling you out of your spiralling thoughts.
The strange thoughts seemed to disappear with his kiss and everything just felt... right.
You moved slowly, savouring the sensations instead of racing for the finish line, allowing yourself to enjoy it instead of seeing it as a means to an end. And, somehow, it felt even better that way. His cold metal hand found your hip and helped your movements but he let you stay in control, the whole time keeping his eyes on yours.
As you took what you needed from him, Bucky placed his hand on your inner thigh and slowly started to tease your clit with his thumb. You barely even realised that it was the first time he'd touched you with that hand, instead of his vibranium one.
Your fingers ended up in his hair, your gaze holding his as you rode him, your mouth hung open and little moans spilling freely out of you.
Bucky bit his lip and just the sight of it caused you to clench around him, making you feel like you were losing your mind.
As your first orgasm hit, your head fell back and you moaned his name, over and over, barely noticing that he had started to move beneath you, thrusting up into you as your body trembled.
Bucky seemed to come to life beneath you, pulling you close and seizing your lips in another desperate kiss. You were still in control, but Bucky was now an active participant. When the kiss broke, his fingers brushed back your hair so he could see you, making the moment feel even more intimate.
You felt your cheeks warm as he looked at you, watching as every upward snap of his hips forced a gasp from your lips.
Without thought, you tugged on his hair, pulling him towards your neck. Moans soon began to spill from you as he kissed your gland and lost himself in your scent, before starting to trail lower.
You gasped at the feeling of his lips on your chest, his tongue lapping at hardened nipples before starting to suck. Even though you’d fucked more times in the last twenty-four hours than you could remember, it felt like the first time again. And, now that he could see you, touch you, Bucky was taking full advantage.
And you were letting him.
You were enjoying letting him.
Your fingers twisted in his hair, pulling him closer, loving the feel of his lips on your chest, and the way he made every kiss and touch feel like an act of worship.
“Bucky!” You cried, your inner walls spasming as you started to come again.
As you came, his lips crashed against yours again, his tongue eagerly meeting yours as he swallowed down your moans.
Whatever this was, whatever was happening between the two of you, you didn’t want it to end. You both kept moving, kissing, fucking, hands exploring each other in new ways, both completely lost to the other. You gave in to your every want and desire, letting yourself hope that maybe this really could be real, that he could actually care.
“Mouse...” he warned, sounding surprisingly breathless.
Later, you’d tell yourself that you didn’t hear his warning, or that you were too out of it to think about anything other than how good you felt. But, really, you didn’t want to stop, you didn’t want the moment to be unfinished.
Your hands moved along his shoulders and up to his neck, fingertips grazing over his gland, allowing yourself to touch him in such an intimate way. Before you could even think, his hand was on the back of your neck, pulling you closer and claiming your lips again. A deep groan vibrated through his chest and you felt him start to pulse and spill hot inside you, the sensation was enough to push you into another orgasm, causing your walls to eagerly squeeze around his cock.
His lips pulled from your as he panted and groaned. Instinctively you angled your head, offering him access to your gland which he took without hesitation. Your mind, instead of racing, went surprisingly silent, as if you knew without doubt that you wanted his mark.
“Good little omega,” he muttered, his lips and tongue causing your body to shudder even more than it already was, but his words and the press of teeth against your gland brought you back to your senses.
Your heart stopped and the moment shattered around you.
“No!” You cried out
You pushed him back, scrambling off his lap and away from his grasp, hating yourself for what you’d almost let happen.
“Mouse, I -” Bucky started and stopped, seemingly frozen in shock as you staggered out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.
Your chest tightened and your heart started to race, overwhelmed with what had just happened and what you’d almost allowed to happen. You’d let him come inside you - just the feeling of it running down your thighs had you panicking - and you’d almost let him give you a claiming bite. But it was his words more than anything that had your stomach twisting.
You weren’t just some good little omega. Not for Bucky. Not for anyone. You’d never be a good little omega.
The words played over and over in your head, seeming to get louder with each and every repeat.
Good.
Little.
Omega.
That was all you were to him. An omega.
A weak, pathetic omega.
(That’s all you were to anyone.)
How could you have been so stupid? How could you have let yourself trust him and get swept up in the moment? He was an alpha just like all the others, he didn’t want you, he just wanted an omega to claim as his own.
As you braced your back against the locked door, you realised that your cheeks were wet with tears and the pain you felt had nothing to do with your heat. With three little words, he’d managed to break you completely. You couldn’t breathe, your legs were shaking so much that you crumpled to the floor, your hand covering your mouth to suppress your sobs.
“Mouse?” He said softly, his voice barely audible through the door. “I -”
Bucky fell silent and you felt the door shift a little, as if he was leaning on the other side. There was a sigh and, against your will, you found yourself picturing the look on his face, that awful pained expression that he got when he said the wrong thing or realised that he’d fucked up. It made your heart ache all the more.
“I - I’m sorry, I thought that you -” he stopped himself again. He sounded so lost, so conflicted, like he didn’t understand what had happened and why you’d run.
(Of course he didn’t, he was an alpha, he wasn’t used to omegas telling him no.)
Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, to explain it to him, knowing that if you tried he’d hear the awful, gut-wrenching sobs that you were only just managing to hold back.
A minute passed in silence. Then you heard another sigh.
“I - I’m gonna go,” he said, his voice catching awkwardly. “I’ll go see if I can help Sam track down Rumlow. I’m - fuck - I’m sorry.”
You bit your lip to keep from answering him, from saying anything that might make him stay. Pressing your ear to the bathroom door, you waited a few minutes before you heard the front door to the apartment open and close.
A desperate sob escaped you at the thought you were completely alone again, that he’d left you, given up on you.It was what you wanted, but it still hurt so much.
After a few minutes, you forced yourself to stand, knowing that you couldn’t just stay there, on the bathroom floor, or in the apartment. You needed to go, needed to leave before Bucky got back. You needed to do the only thing you knew how to do; run.
You cleaned yourself up and rushed to the bedroom, dressing in some of the clothes Sam had brought for you before pulling on Bucky’s hoodie, hoping that his scent would help soothe the symptoms of your heat long enough for you to get somewhere safe. Not that you had anywhere safe to go to.
(But staying wasn’t safe either.)
You kept hearing those words in your head, kept thinking about the way he’d looked at you, the way he’d kissed you. It was all messed up, all ruined. You couldn’t stay, couldn’t be near him, knowing that he only saw you as an omega.
All your things were back at your apartment - if you could just get your phone, you’d be fine, you’d be able to check into a cheap hotel and wait out your heat. Surely Brock’s men weren’t still watching, surely they’d given up on you going back by now. You rummaged through Bucky’s backpack and found a few dollars, hopefully enough to get you back home.
Pulling your hood up, you stepped out of the apartment and shut the door behind you.
With slow deep breaths, made your way out of the building and onto the street. You got a few strange looks from passersby, no doubt because you were a frail little omega wrapped up in an alpha’s overly large hoodie. At least, you hoped that was what it was. You didn’t want to think about how any nearby alpha might be able to smell your heat.
You frantically flagged down a taxi, and managed to fall into the backseat.
“Hey, you okay?” The driver asked, turning in his seat so he could look at you.
“I’m fine,” you said, though you sounded anything but fine. “West 116th please.”
“Yeah, uh, sure thing,” he turned and started to drive, keeping an eye on you through the rearview mirror. He was silent for a few minutes, until he noticed you squirming. “I hope you don’t think I’m outta line here but... you’ve got your heat right? Looks pretty bad to me - my wife, she’s an omega, and she gets it pretty bad too.”
“I’m just trying to get home,” you told him.
“You got someone waiting for you? Someone to look after you?” He asked and, then, almost winced when you visibly tensed in fear. “Hey-hey, I’m not... I’m not trying to say that - I just mean, you’re not looking great and I don’t mind taking you to the hospital if you need it. They’ve got one of those Emergency Omega Centers now.”
The thought of going to an EOC and being glared at by doctors and nurses caused your blood to run cold, stirring up memories of your childhood and your first few heats. It made you feel sick just thinking about it.
You quickly shook your head. “No. No hospital. I’ve got... friends to help me.”
The taxi driver didn’t look like he believed it but, ahead, you could already see your apartment building, and you were certain that you could reach it on foot if you had to.
Less than a minute later, the diver was getting out of the taxi and opening the door for you, even going as far as helping you out of the cab. And, when you tried to pay him, he refused.
“If my wife was in your position, I’d want people to be kind to her,” he explained.
All you could do was nod. You wanted to thank him, wanted to say something, but your fever was spiking again and you needed to get inside.
Instead of heading for the door, you slipped around the side of the building, hoping that you’d have the strength to make it up the fire escape and into your apartment. Once you had your phone and some clean clothes, maybe you’d rest, just nap for a few minutes before figuring out your next move.
Every time you blinked you found your eyes closing for a little longer. Your feet dragged as you walked down the alleyway. Bucky’s hoodie suddenly felt stifling on you, but you didn’t have the strength to take it off and you didn’t want to lose the warm embrace of his scent wrapped around you.
You reached the ladder and needed to cling to it for support, your legs trembling beneath you. Your head lolled forward, pressing against a cold metal run. For a few seconds, you closed your eyes, feeling like you could fall asleep on your feet.
“Hello, sweetheart,” a voice echoed through the alleyway.
Your eyes struggled to focus, but you didn’t need to be able to see him clearly to know exactly who he was and what he wanted with you.
Your stomach dropped.
Brock Rumlow.
End Note : Okay, this one might have skewed more towards just the smut... and I'm sorry about the cliffhanger ending to this one. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it!
As always, reblogs/comments/likes/asks are always appreciated. Thanks so much for reading, hope you have a great day!
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