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person a, running to keep up: stop running! why are you running?!

person b, thinks they're being chased: why are you running?!?!?

Captain America: Civil War (2016) dir. Joe and Anthony Russo

fanfiction blows my mind sometimes, and i’m not specifically talking about the writing, plot, characters, etc but just the work itself as a whole. like those words are a piece of someone. a real person’s thoughts inspired by another real person’s thoughts and so on. time and effort and love were put into these stories, and some are shared with the world. not to mention they’re also not for profit and free to consume.

Cardan, very drunk: *points to Jude* That’s my girlfriend, suckers!

Jude, quietly: Your wife, honey.

Cardan: my wiFE! EVEN BETTER!

Seeing how each Feral Boy interacted with their streams a year ago vs right now is so funny

Quackity a year ago: hi oh my god thank you for the gifted omg guys :3

Quackity now: EVERYONE FUCK OFF IM NOT AN IPAD KID. IM A DRAGON AND I AM HERE TO DO THE DEED

Karl when he first started: *giggling* lets gooo aheheheheheheheh

Karl now: YOURE DOGWATER. YOURE SHORT? GROW! FREER THAN A COSTCO SAMPLE.

Sapnap a year ago: aheheh yeah I’ll fight you maybe haha

Sapnap now: I DONT KNOW WHATS HAPPENING IN MY OWN STREAM ANYMORE

Dream a year ago: today we are going to be trying to beat the world record for Minecraft speedrunning in 1.15 :D

Dream now: I HAVE A PARASOCIAL RELATIONSHIP WITH OBAMA SO FUCK OFF

George a year ago: I’m so sorry I missed your dono oh my god I feel so bad here let me name something after you ahehehe

George now: *demonic screaming* THIS STREAM IS SPONSORED BY DNF. SKEPPY AND YOUR MUM BAHA

Peter: You’re living. You occupy space. And you have mass. You know what that means? You matter.

Y/N: That’s the most inspirational pun I’ve ever heard.

why would I face my problems when I can literally just pretend to talk to fictional characters instead

i usually get uncomfortable when i notice people staring at me, but not squirmy like i don’t think i react physically but i cringe a little on the inside. HOWEVER, if bucky was staring at me.... i would not complain. IN FACT, i would enjoy it. that’s my hypothesis. i wish i could confirm it. anyways, this was so cute and steve radiated best friend energy when he told bucky he was staring at reader. like he really said this is just my job, buck. it’s my privilege. it’s what i signed up for.

movement

— pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

— summary: bucky only notices what is happening to him when steve points out how much he’s been staring. when he realizes it and feels what it means, he decides to do something about it.

a/n: reblogs/feedback/likes are greatly appreciated & highly encouraged!

warnings: explicit language, sensitive content; it’s mostly fluff!

words: 1.2k 

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it’s steve’s fault.

then again, if bucky’s being honest to himself, a lot of things in his life are.

problems started by steve come through one of two ways: either he puts his fits up, or he worded things a certain way.

in this particular case, the problem was his words.

weekdays meant debriefs, meetings and team assessment and response practice.

practice meant kicking steve’s ass for at least a couple of hours until he learned something useful and managed a maneuver in bucky’s Asset-trained defense—steve finally smiled, practice ended, repeat.

somewhere in the middle of that routine, a missing step slipped by him completely until steve pointed it out on a random wednesday afternoon.

“you do that a lot, you know?” steve asked, looking up at bucky.

he was sitting on the floor — getting his ass kicked involved a lot of floor kissing when fighting Bucky — and instead of getting up, he had opted for laying on the ground to dry some sweat off with a towel and drink some water.

“do what a lot?” bucky asks.

“stare at her.”

the three words make bucky’s head snap back in steve’s direction.

he wants to play dumb and say ‘what are you talking about’, but his eyes were watching. they were glued to the figure on the other side of the fighting ring, sparring with nat and dancing with movements so precise only a fellow widow could evade and counter against.

you.

nat was an old friend, but you—you were the movement in the room that always caught his eyes.

if there was ever a widow too dangerous, it was you. just like nat, your webs no longer caught innocent blood, but bucky was no innocent and every time you walked in the premises, he was stuck.

“damn, buck.” steve’s surprised laughter brings him back to the moment—denying was useless, so playing dumb was too.

“shut up,” bucky huffed as a response.

the tip of his ears felt remotely warm and the bubbling inside his chest felt foreign and familiar at the same time.

by the look glinting in steve’s blue eyes, he saw it too.

“haven’t seen you look this coy or try to play dumb in a while,” says steve. his voice is tentative, so bucky feels a little calmer about how nervous he feels to be feeling weird in the first place.

steve’s words cause two troubles all at once: first one had the easiest fix—he was staring and it takes only a minute of Asset-level analysis to realize that he’s been staring for a while now. the issue comes and goes with ease because as soon as he’s made aware of it, bucky’s next thought is,

how can i not stare? she’s mesmerizing.

the second trouble was the one freezing him in his spot for half a second: the staring came from a bubbly, warm place inside of bucky that he thought had been lost decades ago, beat off of him inside the cold of a cryo chamber, away from any kind or tender touches.

“is this a distracting tactic?” bucky asks. he knows steve will pretend to rise to the bait because, at the end of the day, that’s how good of a friend steve rogers is. “'cause it ain’t working, stevie. get off your ass, you need to lose again.”

“oh, it’s so on.”

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for one week, bucky assesses his situation.

steve was right—he does that. a lot.

as soon as you walked in, his eyes found your frame no matter what he was doing.

Keep reading

i remember reading this for the first time with my mouth hung open. like his instinct was to protect her, to put her first and make sure she’s okay. and all she wanted was to get him home safely. and she trusted him!! sure, she freaked out a bit when he pulled a weapon on her i mean who wouldn’t but she trusted him right away after that. and he trusted her too!! like he let her touch him and put cuffs on him and maybe he thought she was his handler BUT i don’t think so... i mean why would he instinctively protect his handler without an order to do so?? this is love, don’t try to convince me otherwise.

Purgatory

summary: While on a mission, Bucky becomes dissociated into the Winter Soldier. But instead of becoming a threat, his instinct is to protect. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 6.5k warnings: dissociative episode, PTSD symptoms, winter soldier!bucky is clingy and protective af a/n: this is based off a request I got ages ago from @visitneptune. It's not letting me tag you hun, so I hope you still see this!

Bucky stood at the mouth of the jet; the wind rustling violently around him, eager to knock him off his stance, to instill doubt into his body though it was made of stone. His left hand gripped to the handle on the wall; metal seared to metal, crystalline marble. Several hundred feet below laid the ruins of an old Hydra base; its walls coated in graffiti, the foundation left to weather, the hinges to rust. It held his empty stare.

“You sure you’re up for this?” you asked him softly under the roar of the wind. A particularly grueling gust swept through the bridge and you gripped the strap on the back of Bucky’s jacket for support. He was unwavering in its path, though he seemed to soften at your touch. He turned to you then, pressed out a weak smile and nodded.

You released your hold on his jacket, smoothing down the harness with a quick brush against his spine. He shivered as your fingertips grazed over the dip in his back and you bit your lip between your teeth. When you looked up at him again, you tried to force out a smile for him in return, but found the light would not touch your eyes.

The rush of adrenaline was still spiked high in your veins from the last time you heard Bucky scream – the agonizing break in his voice as he desperately clawed himself from the edge of nightmares Hydra had left behind. You could still see the sweat on his forehead, the rapid breaths in his chest, the fresh reflective tracks on his cheeks. You could feel him trembling in your arms, his hands begging for purchase around your body, his repetitive whispers against your neck.

It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

But Bucky was desperate for absolution. He had it in his mind that the only way to atone for the violence he’d done under Hydra’s thumb was to settle the score. To make amends. To undo the carnage he’d once created with every Hydra base he dismantled. He never allowed himself to acknowledge the steel toed boot that had been pressed to his neck, forcing his hand, controlling his mind, suffocating his will. He sought forgiveness for the crimes of his captors. He would not consider that his body was merely the weapon at their disposal.

He wasn’t new to missions where Hydra was at play, but he was often only able to hold it together long enough to wash the blood down the drain before the weight of it split through the cracks. You’d find him curled up on the floor of the shower, rubbing his skin raw in attempt to wash out the red stained to his hands. He wouldn’t speak a word until morning came, wouldn’t sleep for a second. But he’d allow you to hold him, to soothe a hand over his hair, to rest his head against your heart.

You never talked about it. Never named the lingering tension in the room when he crawled out from under your sheets, shamed seeped into his veins. This silent and impenetrable bond you shared. The knowledge that you could pull him from the darkest corners of his mind. That you were a safe place even when he felt the walls were crumbling around him. You never spoke of it, but it remained.

“Nat and I will head to the control room while Sam keeps the jet in the air,” Steve said, a single hand on his hip. The other gripped at the ropes to keep himself steady in face of the wind. He clenched his jaw, a reluctant look upon his face as he turned to Bucky. “Buck, I need you on the lookout for their lab. It’s not marked on the blueprints but if anyone can find it...”

Bucky nodded. No one knew for sure if this was one of the bases he’d been held in as the Winter Soldier, but you supposed it didn’t matter. They all held the same trauma, the same reminders of the horrors he’d faced. The muscle memory alone to step foot in a building where he’d been conditioned down to his bones was an act of violence within itself.

“Y/n, I want you with him,” Steve added, a knowing look shared between you. It wasn’t that Steve didn’t trust Bucky. He was afraid for him the way you were; wanting to protect him from a world that had caused him so much pain. It was a need the both of you shared.

“What’s in this lab anyway?” you asked, changing the subject as you watched Bucky avert his gaze, pink burning in his ears.

“Samples of a pathogen Bruce thinks he can make a vaccine for,” Natasha said as she clipped her gun into the holster on her thigh.

“And they’re entrusting us to return it safely?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Nat has experience with this stuff,” Steve explained. “She’ll take care of it. Just signal on the coms when you find it. The base is empty. We’re not going to run into enemy fire.”

Your gaze flickered to Bucky. His back was to the group, his focus staring down at the abandoned Hydra base below. The metal handle had warped under his grip, outlining the shape of his fingers in smooth ridges along the surface.

You wondered then if it mattered whether the base was occupied at all; if the nightmares could still seep through the cracks in the walls and cause damage all on their own.

***

The door was lined with rust. Red and orange and oozing from the hinges. Bucky stared at the knob, his grip readjusting on his rifle. Steve and Natasha had already taken the north entrance, leaving Sam hovering above in the jet for a quick exit. You and Bucky remained at the south entrance. You watched him carefully, studying the tension in his shoulders, the reflection of gold weaving delicately along his left arm as the metal plates flexed. He was so still you wondered if he was even breathing.

“Bucky?” you called, setting a hand on his forearm. You walked out ahead of him, trying to meet his eye. The contact usually grounded him when he could not hear your voice through the mess inside his head, the numbness. You brushed your thumb gingerly along the vibranium edges. “Are you with me?”

He nodded, shaking himself out of the trance he had fallen into. “Sorry. Just need a moment.”

He looked as though he needed more than just a moment. A lifetime, perhaps, before he would ever be able to set foot in a Hydra base without some remnants of his own trauma clawing at the back of his neck, sinking talons into his muscle and yanking him to the depths.

“No one would blame you if you wanted to sit this one out,” you told him sincerely, eyeing the quinjet hovering over your heads. “I could get Sam to come down and—”

“I’m fine,” Bucky snapped, yanking his arm away from your hold. It startled you enough to step back a few paces, your hands burning as heat rushed to your cheeks. But as quick as it came, the sudden hardness of his features washed away when he noticed the hurt upon your face. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean to—” Bucky sighed, dropping his head. “Let’s just get this over with, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied quietly, taking another step back to give him space. He glanced towards you, an unreadable expression in his features, though it made you wonder whether the space had been a relief for him at all. He clenched his jaw, turning back to the rusted door. He kicked hit boot to the weakest spot in the frame, near the hinges, and the door slammed to the ground. Broken entirely from the walls around it. Dust smoked up from the floor from where it crashed to the cement and exposed a dark, windowless hall behind it.

“Maybe we can watch that series you’ve been wanting to show me when we get home?” Bucky offered softly, inching closer to you as if the space between you was too much to bear. He pushed out a smile; one you knew took most of his effort to produce in witness to the building that could have been the one to rip him to pieces. It touched his eyes, left lines in its wake. It was beautiful.

“Deal,” you grinned, nudging his side until he started to laugh. The meaning of such a sound amongst the horrors of these halls was not lost on you. It echoed through the corridors and touched the cobwebs hanging in the corner. Its ghosts may have been the ones to hear his screams once.

Bucky took the lead. Even amongst the baron halls, he positioned himself as a shield between you and the darkness ahead. His wide frame took up most of the narrow hallway, his stance cautious to keep you protected at his back. Every so often, his ear flexed at the sound of your steady breathing, the shuffle of your shoes over the debris upon the floors. It was like he was fighting the urge to turn over his shoulder once more to confirm with his own eyes that you were safe behind him. He continued on, deeper into the darkness as fingers flexed against his rifle; his steps undetectable.

You passed by dozens of emptied rooms with dark stains upon the concrete and shackles molded to the wall. Bucky didn’t speak as his gaze trailed along the reinforced cells and the ghosts they carried. Tension etched into his muscle the further he walked.

A shiver burrowed into your spine as you kept your pace close to Bucky’s stride – close enough that you brushed against his shoulder blades every so often. It had been a comfort at first, drawing away the stone in his spine, but then after a while he began to bristle at the contact, almost as if he’d forgotten you were behind him, before he eased again, relaxing into your touch.

You’d been walking through the maze of hallways for nearly ten minutes before either of you spoke.

“Do you recognize this place?” you asked cautiously when Bucky took a right turn down an adjoining hall. He hadn’t even stopped to consider his path. It was as if he were following a memory.

He shook his head, a contemplative look on his face. Still, his attention turned down the corridor like he was being drawn towards it. He sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But something’s telling me to go this way.”

You didn’t question whether it was the lab beckoning him or something else, something more dangerous. Instead, you set a comforting hand on his forearm and gave a short squeeze. A pained smile pressed on his lips as he stared down at your hand, how your thumb so sweetly ran along the thick material of his jacket. When you released him, he took in a heavy breath and continued on.

You followed him in silence until you neared the end of the hall. The lighting became progressively dimmer, the bulbs flickering in their disuse. Bugs scrawled along the edges of the walls, scampering through piles of dust and dirt. You held back a shiver as you kept as close to Bucky as you could.

It was as if the walls themselves were molding his body to marble with every step further into their maze. His back tightened, his spine straightened. His breathing became shallow to the point you could no longer hear his careful inhales. But something in him relaxed despite the tension in his body. You were about to call his name when suddenly, he turned sharply into an open room.

The door was lined in dozens of steel bolts and reinforced locks. It looked to be in pristine condition in comparison to the rest of the building. From a short glance inside, it was evident that this room was not the lab Steve sent you in search of. It was lined with cement, void of any furniture, let alone laboratory equipment. It was completely empty, save for the shackles fused into the furthest wall.

It was a cell.

You furrowed your brows as you followed Bucky into the baron room. He didn’t look around, didn’t so much as turn in your direction. Instead, he stilled at the center of the room, his back to you. You swallowed, though it tasted of copper.

“Bucky?” you called nervously. “What are we doing in here?"

As you stepped further into the room, you noticed the dent on the inside of the door. Heart pounding violently in your chest, you reached out and touched the caved in metal, drawing your fingers along the perfect imprint of a fist. No one else could have had the strength to cause that kind of damage except—

“Bucky?” you tried again, panic starting to lace into your voice. He was standing too still, too quiet. He didn’t so much as move a single muscle at the sound of his own name. His posture was too rigid, too formal. It reminded you of— oh God.

You took a single step towards him, the heel of your boot softly tapping to the concrete and suddenly, Bucky whipped around to face you. His expression was cold; void of the man you knew him to be; absent of the smile you drew out of him on the edge of this dreadful building. In one fluid movement, he raised the barrel of his rifle and unlatched the safety. There was no time to panic, no time to call his name, to so much as raise your hands in defense.

He fired.

Eyes screwed shut, lungs burning. There was a deafening ringing in your ears, pulsing deep into the back of your head, obstructing your balance. Slowly, you opened your eyes to find Bucky lowering his rifle to his side, the same vacant look in his expression staring at something beyond your shoulder.

“--company!” Steve’s voice suddenly cracked through the coms. “We’ve got company!”

You followed Bucky’s vacant stare to the body currently lying in the hallway. A man laid upon the threshold to the room, a shotgun in hand and a Hydra insignia affixed to his lapel. Blood pooled into the concrete, inching along the floor towards you. You hadn’t even known he was there, that he was just seconds away from firing a shot to the back of your head. The man’s finger was still curled around the trigger. You inched closer to Bucky.

“Y/n? Bucky? Someone report!”

Your gaze trailed over Bucky’s frame as he remained impossibly still. Not even his breaths seemed to rise against his chest. His stare was etched to the door, his eyes absent of the fear he once carried in these halls. They were coated in something darker – an oncoming of stormy skies masked under an ominous grey fog. Obstructing him. Confining him. A terrifying state of peace within the submission. Bite nestled to your tongue and you swallowed it—the burn of acid dripping down your throat.

“Bucky?” you begged, desperate to believe this place hadn’t undone him down to his bones. He didn’t so much as blink. You gritted your teeth, jaw clenched so tightly it began to ache and you forced out a name you swore you would never utter aloud—

“Soldat...?”

It was barely a whisper, the most you could possibly manage, and still— Bucky’s gaze flickered to you. When vacant, blue eyes met yours, you bit down hard enough to draw blood, your hand trembling as you reached up and touched the warm coat of blood against your lip. He furrowed his brow, studying your reaction and the utter desolation painted over your features.

“If you don’t respond, I’m coming to get you!” Steve warned through the coms. His voice pulled you away from the fog threatening to consume you whole as you stared at the shell Bucky had slipped into. Steve was panting, out of breath, a grunt through the speakers as a heavy thud fell to the floor.

Tears burned in your eyes as you cleared your throat, raising a finger to your coms.

“We’re okay,” you said slowly, not daring to take your eyes off Bucky for even a second. “We’re safe but... something happened, Steve. Bucky’s not himself.”

There was only a short pause. One where Bucky’s eyes centered on you, trailing over your frame as it were for the first time. They slid down the line of your suit, over your thighs to your boots, then back up along your hips to your arms. They lingered over a faded bruise on your cheekbone – one you’d sustained in a mission in the previous week against a rather unpleasant arms dealer in Slovakia. The muscle in his jaw flexed, his hands curled tight into fists.

Slowly, his eyes returned to yours. They didn’t carry the weight you recognized, the years filled with shame and guilt and burden, but they held a heaviness nonetheless. Deep blue as the depths of the ocean, coated in such darkness the sunlight could not hope to reach. They were the eyes of a man who knew what it was to be punished for disobeying orders, who recognized those who had caused him harm, who could identify those who would keep him safe.

The Soldier was not an empty shell. He was not simply a weapon for Hydra to dispose. He was living and breathing and impossibly real. Stripped down to the very threads that kept him human. Removed of his memories, of his past. Tortured for his mistakes. Kept in a cage like an animal. Taught to be silent, to expect fear, to follow orders.

This was not the Winter Soldier as you remembered him on the bridge, in the sky above D.C., in Vienna. Humanity was slipping through; though it was small, subtle. It was only when his gaze flickered briefly back to the bruise on your cheek and his eyes narrowed in what appeared to be rage, that you realized what had happened.

The man before you was the broken shards of who Bucky had been inside this cell – somewhere between the Winter Soldier and the prisoner of war. Too far gone from the Sergeant who held out as long as he could and miles away from the Bucky who turned on the kettle for you in the morning before you woke up, who indulged your ridiculous list of must-watch movies, who curled against you in the middle of the night when the monsters plagued his dreams.

A purgatory within his own mind.

“Y/n!” Steve called panicked through the coms. “Get out of there! We don’t know what he could do if he—”

“I don’t think he’ll hurt me, Steve,” you replied evenly, holding Bucky’s gaze. “He shot a Hydra agent before I even knew they were there. He saved my life.”

Bucky’s attention snapped to the door, his hand flexing against his rifle. You followed his eye line, unsure of what he must have heard, but with his advanced senses you knew better than to question him.

Slowly, he stepped out in front of you, holding an arm behind him to keep you centered behind his back. Your heart fractured as you realized he was shielding you. Even stripped down to basic instinct, muddled by the horrors of what Hydra had inflicted upon him, he still chose to protect you.

“Get him back to the jet,” Steve ordered, though you could hear the reluctance in his voice, even as he engaged in direct combat with enemy agents. “We’ll secure him there. Be careful.”

You nodded, trying to gather your courage though it felt impossibly far away. You were about to reach for Bucky’s forearm when you stopped yourself, quickly yanking your hand back against your chest and you had to remind yourself that this wasn’t your Bucky. You had no idea how the Winter Soldier would react to such an intrusion, especially given what you remembered about how Bucky first responded to touch – how he’d flinch away from it as if he’d been expecting pain. The Soldier didn’t know to expect anything less.

“Soldat,” you called firmly, mimicking the tone of the Soldier’s handlers. He straightened his spine, turning his head to you, awaiting orders. You inhaled a shaken breath, struggling to meet his eye. “I need you to get us out of here. Both of us. Do you understand?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at your emphasis, though slowly he nodded. You had no idea how many Hydra agents crawled out from behind the woodwork or what to expect when you stepped into the hallway. But the Soldier needed a mission. He needed orders to follow. You weren’t sure whether he would go willingly without them.

Bucky eased out into the hall, a cautious glance behind his shoulder as if to make sure you were following close behind. You gave him a short nod and he turned back to the end of the hall; his rifle gripped tight to his grasp. You attempted to peer around his shoulder to get better leverage and provide coverage, but then—

An arm snaked around your neck, clamped down against your windpipe and yanked you backwards. You gasped for breath – the strangled sound alerting Bucky to your distress as you desperately clawed at the arm around your neck, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

Bucky whipped around, rage quickly burning as the blue in his eyes reduced in thin, cerulean rings. You met his gaze, air obstructed as you choked against the man’s grip, and still – you saw a world of panic breaking through the cold exterior of the Winter Soldier.

You quickly elbowed the assailant in the ribs and he released your throat, doubling over in pain. It was enough time for Bucky to fire a single shot once you ducked clear out of view, sinking to the ground as your hands darted at your throat in search of air. You only vaguely recognized the sound of the body thudding behind you as you began to cough violently, blood spilling from your lips.

“You’re hurt,” Bucky murmured, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. He was kneeling at your eye line, his brows furrowed and drawing worry lines over his forehead. His voice didn’t sound his like his own – too hesitant, too quiet. Longing and terrified and filled with unbridled rage all at once.

“M’okay,” you choked out, though your voice was rough, as if it has been tossed through a blender and dragged over sandpaper until it bled.

Bucky’s hand reached out to you, gently pushing the hair away from your eyes with the lightest feather of a touch. You stilled as the very tips of his fingers grazed gently over your skin, watching him as he studied the markings on your neck. An impossible moment amongst the chaos in the distance. The humanity of the Winter Soldier breaking through. His upper lip twitched as his fingers touched the discoloration on your neck. His jaw wired shut, a twitch in his upper lip, and suddenly, a weapon was in his hand again. He fired another four shots into the dead body on your right.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” you told him, gathering his face in your hands, urging him to meet your eye. You drew your thumbs along his cheekbones until he finally forced his gaze back to you. He was breathing heavy, the rage spilling through the cracks in his surface until you said again, “I’m okay.”

A wash of relief coated his features for only a moment. Then, he nodded, almost as if to shake himself of the emotion he was not allowed to express. The lines on his face faded into the façade, the stone cold expression returning and wiping away the traces of the man underneath. Without saying a word, he stood back to his feet and waited patiently for you to follow.

By the time you made it outside, Steve and Natasha were standing by the mouth of the quinjet, weapons at the ready. They were both covered in open cuts and bruises, red seeping into their uniforms and coloring their skin. Natasha was leaning against the edge of the ramp, barely holding herself up, though she started to relax upon spotting you.

Bucky froze at the sight of their weapons and you collided into his back. He pulled out his gun.

“No! Stop!” You rushed out in front of him, holding your hands up defensively. “They’re friends! They won’t hurt us.”

You stared down the barrel of his rifle, counting each agonizing heartbeat as you waited for him to lower his weapon. You didn't know why, but the Soldier was drawn to you, connected to you in some way that he protected you without a second thought. It was his mission. His only directive. It wasn’t one you’d given him, but still—it remained.

His eyes flickered to you, unsure. You gave him a gentle reassuring nod and slowly, Bucky lowered the gun.

“Y/n?” Steve called hesitantly.

“I’ve got him, Steve,” you replied over your shoulder. “He’s okay.”

“He’s—”

“He’s not triggered, not like you think,” you explained as calmly as you could manage. You could sense Bucky eyeing Steve, his hand flexing against his weapon, and you didn’t want to give him any reason to believe Steve was someone you needed protection from. “I don’t know what happened, but one minute he’s Bucky and the next he’s...” You sighed, glancing back at Bucky’s rigid posture. “Something in that base fractured him; awoke this part of him again. It’s a defense mechanism. He’ll come out of it, Steve. Give him time.”

Steve's gaze flickered to Bucky before returning to you. “Last time you met the Winter Soldier, he almost killed you.”

Triggered under Zemo’s twisted plan to draw a line between the Avengers, Bucky had once shot a bullet clean through your stomach. You could still picture the cold look in his eyes as he stood over you, readying for the kill shot as you laid frozen on the floor in a pool of your own blood. You’d never felt fear quite like that – the certain knowledge that you would not survive. If it hadn’t been for Tony’s intervention, you would have been dead.

It was before you knew Bucky. Before you loved him.

Maybe you were naïve, but something had changed in the Soldier since then. Perhaps, the same thing that changed in Bucky.

“I’ll be alright, Steve. He won’t hurt me.” You eased your hand in Bucky’s direction, urging him to holster his weapon. He did and you hoped it was because he trusted you, not because he saw you as his handler. You sighed, turning to Steve. “I’ll take care of him. Just trust me with this. Please.”

“Okay,” Steve sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “But I have to secure him. For everyone’s safety, including his.”

"Let me,” you offered quickly, unsure of how Bucky would react to Steve trying to restrain him. “He’ll take it better if I do it.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

No. You weren’t sure of anything; not with Bucky locked in this state. But you told him you were anyway.

“Soldat,” you called, turning away from the flash of surprise on Steve’s face as you turned to Bucky. “Follow me.”

You turned up the bridge of the jet, walking past Natasha and keeping your gaze straight ahead. You didn’t want to see whether she was disappointed with you for feeding into Hydra’s conditioning to keep Bucky compliant. You were only trying to keep him safe, to get him through this in one piece. He’d come out of it eventually. You kept telling yourself that, though you were never entirely convinced.

Bucky hovered behind you, keeping close despite the wide berth of the jet. You gestured to a seat along the side wall of the plane and Bucky sat down. You knelt down beside him, pulling a pair of reinforced handcuffs from under the seat. The team kept them on hand for the varying occasion when they needed to restrain enhanced individuals or Norse Gods. They’d work on Bucky, too.

“I’m going to put these on you, okay?” you told him, watching for any resistance. But Bucky didn’t move. He only watched you, following the metallic flicker of the handcuffs as you gently fastened them to his wrists. The center affixed to a chain connected to the floor of the plane. He didn’t move a single muscle.

You sighed, brushing at your eyes as you crawled up to sit in the seat beside him. You never wanted to see him in chains, never wanted to be the one to secure the metal around his wrists, but there was a trust within it. A trust that you would undo the locks, that you would protect him while he was vulnerable to attack the same way he protected you. But you couldn’t read Bucky when he was like this. You had no idea what he was thinking. If he was thinking anything at all.

“What about the mask?”

You blinked, thrown by his voice. Rough, unused. Unsure. He was watching you curiously, studying the stunned look of disbelief on your face, and you quickly shook your head.

“No mask,” you said simply, though you could feel the lump building in your throat. It was more of a muzzle than anything else – used to silence him, to humiliate him, to make him feel like a weapon of their own making and destroy any last thread of humanity he was clinging to. You could barely picture it without tears blurring your vision.

“Just try to relax, okay?” you told him. “We’ll be home soon.”

He raised an eyebrow at the mention of home, but your heart was too broken to explain any further. He didn’t ask. You supposed he was trained not to.

***

By the time you landed hours later, Bucky still wasn’t himself. Sam was the one to reluctantly suggest you bring Bucky to a holding cell until he came to again, but you feared that would only make it worse. It was a cell that triggered this state, you didn’t expect a cell would bring him out of it.

Steve and Natasha landed the jet away from most of the crew so you could guide Bucky away from the crowd without anyone noticing the handcuffs on his wrists. Steve threw a jacket over Bucky’s hands to hide the restraints and gave you the key.

“You call me the second it turns bad,” he ordered, a cautious look thrown in Bucky’s direction.

You nodded and reached out to squeeze Steve’s hand. He sighed at that, the tension coursing painfully through his body. “It won’t, Steve. But I promise I’ll call if I need you.”

Steve didn’t seem any more convinced but you could see the longing for hope in his eyes; how badly he wanted to believe you, how badly he wanted his friend back. He gave you a tight smile and nodded, stepping back.

“Come with me,” you told Bucky and he followed without question, trailing behind submissively and it left an awful pang in your stomach. As you stepped down onto the loading bay, you moved to walk in line with him. “I don’t know how much you recognize but no one here is an enemy, okay? We’re safe. I promise I’ll remove the cuffs once we’re out of sight.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but you could see his eyes flickering to the sparse agents he passed by as if he were sizing them up, deciding how best to engage with his hands bound. He watched your every move, flinched as a head popped up in your direction as you approached, winced as your name was called in greeting from across the hall, shivered under the steady blow of the air conditioning above. He was on constant edge.

“Oh, hey guys!” Scott Lang jumped out from the elevator before you could press the button. Bucky jolted to step in front of you, blocking you from the perceived enemy who was likely the least dangerous man in the compound. Scott still had Cheeto dust on his fingers.

“Ah, I get it, I get it,” Scott laughed, hands raised in the air playfully as he backed up. “I’m happily in a relationship, my man. Hope may be way out of my league but I’m still in it, okay? You don’t have to worry about me snatching up your girl.”

You smiled, setting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder blades and easing your fingers down his spine. It was something you did for him to help him calm down when you didn’t want to draw attention to his distress. You hoped it might work on the Soldier, too. Sure enough, he began to relax. You stepped out from behind Bucky.

“Don’t mind him,” you told Scott with a casual shrug. “He’s just a bit on guard. Rough mission.”

Scott nodded in understanding, his lips pressing to thin line. “Totally get it. My bad, man. But hey! I’ll see you for poker on Saturday, right?”

“He’ll be there,” you replied, answering for Bucky whose gaze looked as though he could pierce daggers straight through Lang’s chest. You guided Bucky in the elevator and quickly tapped on your floor, hitting the button several times until the doors eventually closed. Once you were alone, you slumped against the wall and released a heavy sigh.

When the floor dinged, you straightened to find Bucky watching you. You were sure whether it was curiosity or concern in his eyes as they followed you into the hall.

“The team knows to leave this floor alone until I give them the okay,” you said, gesturing for Bucky’s hands. He held them up for you and you removed Steve’s jacket and tossed it to the couch. Then, you unlocked each of the cuffs and set them on the table.

Bucky rubbed his hand over the reddened skin on his right wrist. You winced at the burn mark.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think I closed them that tight.” You reached for him and you were surprised when he didn’t pull away. He allowed you to take his hand in yours, soothing the cool press of your palms against the irritated skin. He closed his eyes, sighing at the touch.

“Come on.” You eased Bucky to the couch, though you did not lose contact with his wrist. You sat down, sinking into the cushions and gently tugged him down beside you. He was uncomfortable, a little out of place, but you hoped the familiarity might be enough to sink in.

His posture was rigid beside you as you turned on the television and began to search for one of his favorite movies. You were so used to Bucky sliding in next to you, closing the gaps between you without ever acknowledging the comfort of laying in each other’s arms. Now, he sat with his back straight, his hands planted firmly in his lap. He looked as though he didn’t know what to do with the deep-set cushions and the pillows surrounding him.

Bucky looked around, his eyes skirting over the furniture, the television, the window view of the lake down the way, and then—to you. He paused, his features softening.

“I know you, don’t I?”

You clenched your jaw, fighting tears. You nodded.

“I know this place,” he continued, his voice a quiet whisper, as if he was worried who might overhear. “These people, too.”

“Yes, you do,” you confirmed gently. Panic began to wash over his features and you inched closer to him, setting your hand on his forearm. “It will come back to you, Bucky. I promise. Give it some time. I’ll be here when it does.”

His eyes drew down to where you touched him, where your hand gently squeezed his forearm, your thumb brushing tenderly over the lining of his jacket. He watched you as if you’d never done that before, like he’d never experience such kindness in a touch.

***

It wasn’t until long after the sun had gone down and the room coated in the comforting tones of the stars and moonlight beyond the window, the flash of the television illuminating the kitchen behind you, that Bucky finally spoke again.

“I’m sorry.”

You jolted up from your position, your cheek imprinted with the lines of his jacket. You hadn’t realized how close you were to nodding off, how much you’d leaned against his body and relied on his comfort, even in this state. But something was different as he wrung his hands in his lap, twisting around metal fingers and reddening the skin of his right hand.

Bucky swallowed nervously, lowering his head. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

He was expecting you to withdrawal, to be angry for the burden he’d placed upon you, but instead, all you could feel was relief. You threw yourself into his arms, burying your face to the crook of his neck. He held his arms out to the side, as if he were unsure if his own touch was wanted, until slowly, he allowed himself to hold you.

“Are you okay?” you asked against his collar, unable to pull away for even a moment.

Bucky sighed. “As okay as I can be, I suppose.”

You swallowed nervously. “How much do you remember?”

“All of it.”

You stilled; breath caught in your chest. Memory of the dehumanizing name still present on your tongue. “I’m sorry that I—that I called you—”

“It’s okay,” Bucky eased, his breath warm to the crown of your head. “You did what you had to. You got me out. I could have... I could have hurt you.”

“No,” you shook your head, determined. “You saved me, Bucky. Hell, you even tried to protect me from Scott. All you did was protect me.”

Bucky nodded, a flicker of realization in his eyes. “I guess even in that state I knew.”

“Knew what?” you asked, looking up at him.

Bucky smiled and pressed a kiss to your hairline. “That I could trust you with my life. That I would always protect you with it, too.”

You smiled at him, easing your hand against his cheek. Your thumb brushed sweetly over his cheekbone, your palm against the stubble on his jaw. Even as darkness clouded over him, even when he was lost to the confines of his own mind – he would find he way back to you.

He’d come home.

---

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

Enemies to lovers romance is the journey from sweetheart (derogatory) to sweetheart (affectionate)

Vivi: I mean, you sort of had it coming because you forced Cardan into kingship, forced him to obey you, and killed his brother.

Jude: well-

Vivi: That’s probably not even all of it

Jude:

me when i saw THIS in bridgerton:

Me watching two characters in a modern tv show have sex: Huh okay

Me watching two characters in a period drama let the backs of their hands lightly brush in a moment of emotional intimacy so intense they can’t meet each others’ eyes: 

“you‘re so quiet” baby i’m not even here. i’m fantasizing about a book i read weeks ago. move on.

Steve Rogers + the concerned dad pose™

ah yes, the besties to lovers trope i love to see it. first of all, the letter was so cute!! and it was written on nice paper!! i could definitely see peter doing something like that to get his feelings out there but not actually out there. and the sheer panic he experienced when he saw it on her desk... bro i felt that. and when she was debating whether or not to open it?? i felt that too. and when she wasn’t sure what to do bc she didn’t wanna jeopardize their friendship. I. FELT. THAT. oh and the LOCKSCREEN!!!! i squealed.

stuck with me | peter parker

summary ↠ you were just searching for his phone to let may know he’d be crashing at yours…you didn’t expect to find a letter addressed to you.

genre ↠ best friends to lovers | college!au | slight angst | fluff

warnings ↠ slight description of pain (on pete’s part), the word ‘kms’ being used (😭) a shit ton of feels

word count ↠ 5.5k

a/n ↠ another lengthy fic…no clue i had it in me sdfghjk but here we are!! and if any ya’ll find the little reference (something peter directly said) from hoco i put in just the beginning you’re a g :’) ++ huge thanks to @parkerpeter24 for being my beta, and my biggest cheerleader on this :’) i listened to the neighborhood’s stuck with me while writing this!! one of my huge inspo’s for this fic :’) super excited to share this fic with ya’ll and i only hope you enjoy!! ♡ feedback is appreciated <3

Keep reading

PLS i just wanna say that i was so uncertain about tamlin in acotar so when feyre went under the mountain and tamlin did nothing, i almost lost it. like sir, i understand your admirer is quite extreme and emotional, however the love of your life is literally sacrificing herself for you and your people… and i was absolutely livid when tamlin groveled at amarantha’s feet like GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF, YOU’RE SO EMBARRASSING!!!! i was literally shaking in anger. so when i got to acomaf, i was very happy that rhys and feyre got close. i was shocked when i read that they were mates… my mind went blank. like no thoughts blank. but that part at the cottage(?) ah yes that was a good one.

i skimmed your response to the asks and rhys caught my eye. you read acotar??? i stopped reading it after acomaf. i stopped reading actual books at one point but i recently(?) got back into it and idk if i should continue it... RHYS WAS SUCH A GEM THOUGH

yes i adore that series so much i don’t even have to words to express it - whenever i reread i skip most of acotar bc i despise tamlin but acomaf and acowar have my heart in a chokehold. they are so so good!!

if you do end up continuing please let me know i love talk about it!!!

after i read the summary, i clicked the fic so many times i thought my mouse would break. the concept is so cute and the ending omg!!!! they were on the couch. together. eating pizza. together. and being vulnerable. together. so sweet, i loved this. especially this:

“I think we should kiss.” Your suggestion is merely a whisper.

“We should?”

“Only if you meant what you said earlier.”

He chuckles, and mutters “I meant every word.” And his lips press softly against yours. The kiss is gentle, sweet and so, so full of passion that you have to lean forward into his touch. He smiles against your lips and then tilts his head to deepen the kiss. Your fingers curl around his shirt, as you pull him as close to you as possible.

do you hear that?? it’s me, screaming at my monitor.

paperwork

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Cop AU)

summary: In which Detective Right-All-The-Time confesses his feelings for Detective Terrible-Detective

warnings: pure fluff y’all will get a toothache from all the sweetness

author’s note: yes, that’s amy and jake in the pic, yes i cropped their faces lol (this is a repost) [wc: 5k]

MASTERLIST // LIBRARY

“Don’t they have anything better to do?” Natasha, your fellow detective comments from her desk. Her eyes never leave the computer screen and neither did yours, but you knew exactly what she was talking about.

Across the bullpen, two of your co-workers were playing a game of who can stuff the most tater tots in their mouths. Bucky Barnes and Scott Lang stood apart from each other in the kitchen area, aiming the food item at the other’s mouth.

Steve was sitting on Scott’s desk since it was closer to the kitchen – so that he could judge the challenge. The former two had come up with a silly set of rules and had the blonde detective to be the judge and place the ‘verdict’ of their ridiculous game.

“I know, right? And to think those two idiots dragged Steve into this too. They will never spare a chance to corrupt him.” You said in reply. “If they’re all out of work then they’re more than welcome to help me.” You joke, typing away on your computer.

“Actually, they are. Bucky as always finished his paperwork earlier than everyone.” Sam Wilson said as he stood up from his desk to join the boys in the kitchen.

Sam’s the Captain’s assistant. He usually has a lot of work to do, but he prefers filing his nails or being on his phone twenty-four-seven which is how he mostly communicates, even when the people he wants to talk to are right next to him. Like with Nat. He sent her a text to tell her to complete her documents by today.

“Well, then they should just go home.” You scoffed.

You finally chance a glance at Bucky, who was smirking as he now aimed a single tater tot at Sam’s mouth. His blue eyes, though you couldn’t see the colour clearly from where you’re sitting, are squinting in concentration and he tugs at his bottom lip as if that’s going to help him at aiming correctly. His hair looks conditioned and soft – as always. Even when he comes to work late every other day looking like he had a hangover last night.

God, he’s beautiful. How?

As much as Bucky looks handsome while throwing a freaking tater tot, it also makes you want to groan in annoyance. Nobody has the right to look that dashing when all they wear to work is a plain tee and a plaid shirt over it with a pair of jeans that haven’t been washed in god knows how long.

You avert your gaze before anyone realizes you’re ogling at a fellow detective, and go back to do your paperwork. It’s the last for this week and you’re more than excited to finish it and go home.

You’re never the first one to leave the precinct, be it any day of the week. But this Friday, it’s different. You have a date and it’s a big deal. Your friend outside of work had set you up with this guy – who’s really a mystery to you since she refused to tell you anything about him, except his name.

It’s Jason… or maybe he’s a Josh. Okay, you weren’t exactly paying attention to her when she told you his name. But you’ve finally found some personal time for yourself to go out and have fun – after a very long fucking time. You’ll learn his name eventually. So it’s not really a problem.

The problem is your paperwork. It just seems endless and worthless by this point. You don’t hate doing this particular part of the job, you actually love it. But right now all you want to do is get up and stretch your legs. You’ve been in your chair since four in the afternoon and now it’s almost six-thirty. Well, excluding the time it took for pee breaks and when you went to grab a quick snack from the vending machine. It’s just one of those slow days at the precinct when nothing exciting happens.

The boys walk back to their respective desks soon. Bucky – desk being exactly opposite yours – sits down, slumping into his chair with a huge groan. You roll your eyes at him, trying to ignore the sly smirk he’s sending your way. Why is he always smirking? You’re pretty sure he was born with that expression.

Apart from being ridiculously handsome and an amazing detective, James Bucky Barnes is extremely difficult. He’s probably the most annoying person on the planet, the worst partner you’ve ever worked with and an even terrible secondary.

You’ve lost count on how many cases you’ve been assigned as a primary only for him to swoop in from the beginning to take over. It’s not something he would do on purpose, it’s just his natural detective instincts. And though, he never took credit for those times, it still bothered you. Praises don’t really sound like music to the ears when you only did half of the work to get full credit for. And yes, you are that kind of person.

You brush it off, trying to focus on the work in front of you. Whatever he’s about to do or say – you won’t let him bother you. At least not today. You have to keep your mood in check if you want to have a good time during your date.

“Still workin’ huh?” Bucky said, his voice is toned in a way like he’s trying to make a snide comment. He settles his legs on his desk. One foot locked over the other as he moves his ankles apart to look at you from between his feet.

“Yes, unlike you some of us actually pay attention while doing the office work,” you said.

“Hmm, see this is why I’m always good in the field,” Bucky said.

You pull back, face scrunched up in question and your fingers stop their typing as you look up at him. “Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

He realizes what he just said, and scrolls back in his chair, his feet slip down and he straightens up again. “No, no, no! That’s not what I meant. Shit, I didn’t mean to offend you. You’re as good on the field as you are in the office.”

You narrow your eyes, but don’t bother answering him and focus on your work instead.

Don’t let him get to you. You remind yourself.

Though, it felt oddly satisfying to see Bucky fumble over his words. You try to suppress your smirk as you quickly flicked your eyes up to see him and then back to your computer.

It was around seven when you finally finished your work. You’d packed up and were well on your way out with Natasha when the Captain walks out of his office. Captain Nick Fury comes up to you, his expressions unreadable as always.

“Captain,” you greet him with a smile as you stand up from your chair.

“Detective, heading home I suppose.”

“Yes, just finished with the last bit of work.”

“Have you and Romanoff finished with the paperwork for the jewellery store robbery?”

You blink a few times, “The Titan Jewels robbery, sir?”

“Yes. I had told Wilson to give you the message.”

“Sam didn’t give us any message.”

Nat groans, banging a fist on her desk, “Wilson?” The death glare she throws at him was enough to make him sink back in his chair. Hiding his face behind his phone, playing some stupid game on it.

“Natasha, it’s the end of the day! Bitch, you know I’m out of data!” Sam said, sighing.

“You could’ve told us, we were right here!” Nat shouts, banging another fist. You know who she’ll be thinking about when she’s punching a sack of sand at the gym tomorrow morning.

“Okay, well I guess we’ll just have to stay and do it, Nat.” You said, attempting to calm her down a little. “It’ll be done, Captain.”

“That’s better,” he gives you a curt nod before leaving.

You sit back down and restart your computer. Everyone starts leaving one by one. Sam apologizes to you and Nat and even though he seemed genuinely sorry you couldn’t help but get mad. You didn’t show it though.

In the end, it was just you, Nat and Bucky while Steve was just about to leave.

“Nat, I think you should go home.” You sighed, both of you were in the break room, make yourselves some coffee.

“What are talking about? We’re supposed to do the work together.”

“Need I remind you that you have a certain someone, who’s waiting for you at home?”

“I already texted Sharon I’m coming late. She can understand.”

“Natasha, go. home.”

She rolls her eyes, trying not to smile at how affectionately you told her to get out of here. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this coffee?”

“Give it to me.” You shrugged, smiling.

She leaves without another fit of argument, knowing you can be as persuasive as she can and that there’s really no way you’ll let her ruin her evening… along with your own. You have to yet message Josh/Jason about cancelling the date. Hopefully, he’ll understand and maybe suggest a reschedule.

Just as you were about to pick up your phone from the desk your attention falls on Bucky sitting opposite you. He has his black leather jacket on which means he’s ready to leave for the day.

“What are you still doing here?” You ask him.

He looks up from his phone, a clueless expression on his face. “Huh? Uh, what are you still doing here?”

Rolling your eyes, you sit back on your chair. “Completing the remaining paperwork Sam forgot to tell us.”

“Us?” He mumbles then looks around.

“Me and Nat,” you answer while starting to type on your keyboard.

“But I just saw her leaving.”

“Oh, I sent her away. I didn’t want her night to get ruined because of work,” you tell.

Bucky clears his throat, as he leans closer towards you from his chair. “You can’t finish all the work before the night shift squad comes in. That’s impossible.”

“I know but…”

“But what?”

“I had a date tonight.”

Bucky looks at you confused, “Then why did you sent Nat away?”

“Well, I didn’t want her to get stuck with me.”

“Bullshit! Tell me why you’re here, really?”

You purse your lips and stop typing. Sighing heavily you answer, “Okay look, my dating life is as dry and boring as a desert. And yes, I should be excited that I’m finally getting outside my apartment and going somewhere that doesn’t lead me to a grocery store or work. But I don’t know, I am having second thoughts.”

“Second thoughts?”

“About whether I should go or not.” You state the obvious, “Look, it’s nothing, really. I don’t even know this guy. He’s just someone my friend set me up with. So, now I just have to tell her to tell him that I can’t go.”

“I don’t get it. You never said anything about your plans. I’m sure if Nat knew about it, she’d make you leave instead.”

“Bucky, I said it’s okay.” You try to shrug off the conversation.

“That’s not fair. You should go out and have fun.”

“Oh, and who’ll do the work? You?”

“Yes.”

You had to pause, and take a double-take at the man in front of you. You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head as you resume your work.

“Don’t you have anything else to do other than listen to me talk about my miserable life?” You muttered.

“You can’t make me feel sorry for you when you did this to yourself, doll. If you were at whatever restaurant your date chose for you, your life wouldn’t have been ‘miserable’” He stands up and makes his way to the side of your desk.

“Since when did you become so wise, Detective Barnes?”

“I have always been wise, Detective Y/L/N. I just don’t show it to anyone.” he smiles. “You should go. You’ll be able to make it if you leave right now. You still have some time to get dressed if not for a shower.” He jokes as he takes your hand and attempts to pull you up.

“No, Bucky!”

“Up, up!” he said, insistently tugging your hands.

“Barnes! I can’t just abandon my work. Captain Fury would –”

“Fury would have no clue of who did the work!”

“Actually, he would. Your grammar is terrible, Barnes.”

“I’ll send a copy to Steve to check the grammar and spelling errors.”

“Bucky –”

“Go.”

“But–”

“I said, go!”

“But I need to –”

“Need to what? I’m not really that bad at grammar okay? And sure, I once misspelt prosecution to prostitution but mistakes happen. I’m just human –”

“I just need to get my bag, Bucky!” You cut him off, “Wait, you really wrote prostitution instead of prosecution? That was you?”

“Just pack up and leave, alright? I’m doing you a favour here.”

You laugh all the while packing up. And as you walk towards the elevator you shout out a goodnight when he wishes you good luck on the date. You say a little thanks before the elevator closes and he sends you a charming smile with a small wave.

The trip to your apartment from the precinct was a short distance of fifteen minutes, but you took a cab after looking at your watch and realizing you only have half an hour to get ready.

As soon as you get home, you toe-off your shoes and start undressing. You’d decided on what to wear during the cab on your way to your apartment. And you really didn’t care much to look at choices available in your closet. You laid down the prettiest dress you had, it’s a casual LBD. And just so it doesn’t look too simple you opt for a suitable jacket that goes with it and some accessories.

After you freshen up, you get ready. Your hair and makeup is subtle for a first date. And you’re ready to leave.

Your friend had told you that Josh/Jason would meet you directly at the restaurant where he’d made the reservations. So you called an Uber and before you know, you’re standing at the reception desk.

The man behind it asks for a name. You’re flushed with embarrassment as you tell him both the names along with his last name. How did you not remember his first name but knew what his last name was?

The guy informs that your date hasn’t arrived yet but leads you to your table anyway. Well, you were late too by five minutes. But you’re here before him, so that means at least you can pretend to be on time when he comes.

You make yourself comfortable. Your waiter for tonight arrives at your table, asking what type of drink you’d like. You’re not sure if you should start without your date. But you’re also parched. So you order a glass of red wine.

Five minutes later you’re still alone sitting at your table and you’re still on your first glass. The waiter swings by again to ask if you’re ready to order but you tell him that you’re waiting for someone.

Five more minutes go by and now you’re having your second glass of wine.

This time you pull your phone out of your purse and call your friend who’d set you up with a latecomer. She tells you that maybe he’s just on his way. She offers to ask where he is but you immediately tell her not to do that. You can’t do anything about it.

So, the ten minutes, turn into twenty and then thirty.

The waiter comes by again, this time with a sympathetic expression on his face. But you returned that look with a smile.

Right before he was about to pour you another glass you stop him. “Actually, can I get this bottle to go, please?”

“So you’re leaving?”

“Waited for thirty minutes, got stood up. So yes.” You said, twisting your lips and you dragged your chair back to get up. “And don’t worry, I’ll still leave a tip. He was a jerk, but I’m not.” You said pointing at the empty chair opposite to you.

“Thank you.” He smiles before leaving you.

You know you should feel terrible. And you do, but as you walk out of the restaurant and into the crisp night, you’re kind of glad he didn’t show up. First of all, first dates are always awkward and you never know what to say to fill in the silence with small talk. You’re sort of relieved that you got rid of this whole evening turning into a mess. You pull out your phone and call a cab.

Waiting for your uber to come, you contemplate what do to. You could get takeout from a Chinese restaurant near your apartment building and go home, curl up in your bed and binge watch a show on Netflix.

Or…

The cab arrives soon and you tell him the address to your precinct. You’re sure Bucky would still be there. You don’t know why you chose to go with the second option. But you tell yourself it’s only because he could use some help with the paperwork.

You hold the bottle of wine close to your chest as you stand outside the precinct. A shiver passes up your spin but you tell yourself it’s because of the end-of-November weather and not because of the nerves that suddenly came upon you at the thought of seeing a certain blue-eyed detective. Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you look up at the dark sky and curse under your breath.

“Fuck it.” You mutter and walk towards the entrance to push the door open.

The elevator door opens with a ding as you reach your floor. That small noise startles the only person in the office.

His head jerks up as he sits up straight.

“I’m awake! I’m totally awake!” He yells and rubs his face furiously to wash off the sleep. It’s when he realizes someone just entered in, that he twirls around your chair to look at who it is. “What are you doing here?”

“You were sleeping.” You gasp, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “I should have known I could never trust you!”

“No, it was just a quick power nap. I had an alarm set for fifteen minutes, see!” He says, showing you his phone. “What the hell are you doing here, though? Aren’t you supposed to be wining and dining with your date?”

You kicked off your heels while walking towards your joined desks and lean your lower back against it. Looking down at Bucky, you sigh placing the bottle of wine on the desk.

“You won’t be surprised when I tell you that the jerk stood me up.” You said, laughing mostly at yourself.

Bucky looks at you with his mouth agape.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I waited there for thirty minutes. Called my friend to ask where the guy is. Got looks of sympathy from the freaking waiter as if it was the most pathetic thing he’s ever seen in his entire life. And left with this bottle of wine. So he probably thinks I’m gonna end up drunk and alone on my couch. At one point I felt like pulling out my gun and shoot at the table. God, that was so embarrassing!” You ramble on.

Bucky still stares up at you, shaking his head.

“Huh, well do know where he lives, your supposed date? ‘Cause I’ll go there right now and I’ll pound on him. I’ll give him a real good pounding.”

You snort out, “‘I’ll give him a real good pounding’, title of your sex tape.” and at the same time he gasps, “Title of my sex tape!”

The two of you have a good laugh at the joke as you take a seat on his chair and prop your legs on the desk.

“You know, even if I wanted to pound him, I wouldn’t need your help.” You said with a smug look.

“True dat, I’ve seen you chase so many perps, and tackle them down in heels. You really don’t need me to handle that douchebag,” he said with a weirdly fond look in his eyes.

“Aw, you know it means a lot coming from you, Barnes. Thanks.”

“Well, you are the fiercest detective I’ve ever met.” He said as a matter of fact.

But as you smile at his compliments, his words make you ponder over the failed date tonight.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Huh?”

“I said what are you thinking about?” He repeats. “You have that far off look on your face and your eyes are narrowed and your mouth is open. If you had a pencil in your hand right now, you’d probably tap it between your teeth. You always do that when you’re thinking.”

“I do not!” you said, slightly offended. But he knew you’re not when a huge smile creeps up onto your lips.

“Hey, I’m not saying it’s weird, doll. It’s a cute habit.”

You shake your head, you can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth and yet you can’t stop smiling. Leaning your head back on the headrest, you look up at the off-white ceiling; a dejected sigh leaving your lips.

“What’s wrong with me that makes me so undateable?” You wonder out loud.

“Hey, you’re not undateable just because one guy doesn’t show up. That jerk just missed out on having a fun time with you. Trust me, it’s his loss.”

Trust Bucky? You wanted to scoff at him but you don’t.

“No, really I’m talking about men in general. I haven’t dated in a while. And it’s been a really long time, okay? Guys only find me interesting until they come to know that I’m a cop. It’s like they suddenly get this inferior complex like it’s my fault or something.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’ve never experienced that.”

You roll your eyes at him, dully. “That’s ‘cause you’re a guy. Male cop!”

“Okay. You gotta break it to me, sweetheart.”

“See, if you’re a guy and a cop. Girls would throw themselves at your feet. Because it would be hot to date a cop. But the moment a woman gives out her fucking biodata, the only thing men see is what she does for a living. And if it’s something that’s more important than what they do, then suddenly she’s intimidating and is seen as a career-obsessed person. Why?”

You knew Bucky didn’t know the answer to that. It’s not like you expected him to say something.

But then he does, “Wow, I didn’t know that.”

“Well, you do try to come up and forward every time Captain’s giving us new assignments. And you always get the cool ones.”

“That’s not exactly what you said –”

“But it is Bucky. I can’t explain it enough.”

“I don’t do it intentionally.”

“I know, which is why you partially stand apart from those men.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should ‘cause I just don’t go around throwing people compliments,” you said. Bucky chuckles and puts his focus back on the computer. “How much of it is left?”

“Only a couple more pointers and then I will have it printed.”

“Do not print it. I’ll go over it before,” you warn him.

“Okay, Ma'am.” He mutters.

“Did you have dinner yet?” You ask when your stomach grumbles out of nowhere.

“No, but I did eat all those tater tots earlier with Lang and Wilson. Did you?”

“No, just had the dry breadsticks. I’m hungry now.” you pout.

Bucky looks up, solely to look at your expressions. His eyes immediately turn soft and a smile curls upon his lips. “There’s pizza menus in my desk drawer, bottom one.”

“Ooh, yay!” You clap your hands excitedly and bend down to open the drawer. You select your favourite pizza place and quickly order two pizzas, one with your favourite toppings and the other with Bucky’s since he changed his mind while you were giving your order.

Bucky was done with your paperwork and you got it printed after going over it. Surprisingly, there weren’t any major errors, it almost looked like a duplicate version of your own. You thanked him again as he placed it in the filing cabinet behind Sam’s desk.

The pizza arrives and the two of you eat it in the break room with the wine you’d bought. You found some use and throw cups in a cabinet that you could use. You’re currently draped over the couch, while Bucky sits on the other end. He’d placed your feet up on his lap before he sat there.

The whole evening was so relaxing that you’d never have thought Bucky would have something to do with it. You’ve never seen this side of his. He hasn’t made a snide remark or been cocky. And you’re starting to think if it’s because he thinks you’re vulnerable because your date didn’t show up.

You nudge him in the stomach with your feet to get his attention. He stops eating for a moment, eyes landing on you. “Hey, you’re not being nice to me because I got stood up, right? Because I hate sympathy.”

“No, c’mon.” He said simply, though he feels like he should explain since you didn’t look all that convinced. “I know sympathy is the last thing anyone would want in this situation. And like I said before, the guy was a jerk, he most certainly doesn’t deserve you.”

“But what if he showed up the moment I left?”

“Well, it’s still his loss, he was the one who turned up late and you can’t feel guilty ‘cause it’s not your fault.” He reasons. “Besides, I think you shouldn’t date regular men.”

At this, you snort out a laugh, “What do you mean regular men?”

“You should date cops!”

“Uh, what?”

“Well, cops are nice, aren’t they?”

“No, they’re either boring or cocky – like you.”

“Oh, c'mon, Steve’s nice.”

“But he’s also taken. Somehow, all good-natured cops are taken. Besides, I don’t date cops.”

“Aside from that Johnny loser from 97, you dated. God, he was the most boring person on this planet.”

“Oh, well. Detective Barnes, I’ll make sure to ask for your advice before dating.” Your sarcasm only makes him shove your feet off of him. But he lets you put them back onto his lap.

“Okay, let’s see it this way.” He begins, “If the concept of ‘opposites attract’ is anything to go by.” You nod, as he hands you another slice of pizza. “Then you, the intimidating cop, and me, the cocky cop, we’d make a pretty good couple.”

By the time he finishes explaining, you give him this look of amusement. Your lips are threatening to break out on a huge grin, which will most probably turn into a laugh.

“I’m sorry, what are you trying to say?”

“Forget it. I never said anything.” He’s quick to dismiss the subject.

“No, no, no. C'mon, Barnes. Explain it.”

“I thought you were supposed to be good at interpreting things.”

“Bucky, just say it alre –”

“I always thought… what it would be like if something were to happen between us. You know, romantically.” He finally spills out. His eyes never meet yours during his little confession. But you could tell he’s speaking the truth. “God, I sound like such a sap,” he mutters.

You sit up straight, shifting closer to him, “Bucky –”

“Now you’re saying you’d never date cops. So, I feel like I’ve missed my chance.” He cuts you off again.

He sneaks a glance at you the exact moment you tuck your hair behind both your ears and now you couldn’t meet his eyes.

Bucky distinctly remembers Natasha telling him that you do that gesture whenever you find someone attractive. But he looks away when you lift your head up to look at him. And just like that, the comfortable silence is turned into an awkward one.

“I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” Bucky says, voice soft and apologetic.

“Why didn’t you… Why didn’t you say anything before?” You ask.

Bucky thought you’d drop the topic right then and there. Now he doesn’t know how to answer your question.

“Well, first of all, I was too busy being an asshole and the worst co-worker in the whole wide world of Detectives.” he jokes making you roll your eyes, “And second of all, I never thought you would look at me that way. Plus, we work together, I didn’t even think I would start having these feelings for you.” He replied.

“You know, Nat once told me a little theory where little boys pull little girls’ pigtails and trouble them because they like them and are too proud to admit it.” You smirk at Bucky while he tries to comprehend the meaning behind your words. “I’m sure you’re only a kid on the inside.”

“Nat sure does know a lot of things, doesn’t she?” Bucky chuckles.

“Yeah, she’s very, very observant, aside from the fact that we all are since we’re detectives and all.” You said, “And now I know why you’re such a jerk to me.”

“Does that make you feel special, doll?” He retorts, with a smirk of his own.

You shove him lightly, laughing. “You’re so full of yourself, Barnes!”

After your small fit of laughter, you’re back with being comfortable in each other’s presence. Bucky takes a sip of his wine from the disposal cup, “By the way, I never complimented your look.” He says, side-glancing your figure from head to toe.

“Oh, please do! Before I spill wine all over it. I worked hard to look good tonight.” You said dramatically. A giggle escapes your lips as you sit up straight to give him a better look.

“You look really beautiful, doll.” He says, blue eyes sparkling as his gaze solely focuses on yours. You feel your heart skip a beat, a shuddering breath following it. And you do it again, the double tuck of your hair behind your ears. Bucky whole face lightens up, this time confirming his suspicions. “And you’re not just beautiful, you’re smart and intelligent and the best detective NYPD has.”

“You’re saying I’m better than you?”

“Yes, obviously. You work so hard.”

You know you’re blushing like mad right now. His words wash over you like a tidal wave, it’s too much. You could barely handle yourself when he called you beautiful and now he’s showering you with praises. This is an entirely different side of Bucky. You always knew he was hiding it but you never thought you’d get fond of it so instantly.

So, naturally, you say the only thing that seems appropriate.

“Would you like to go out this weekend, Bucky?” As soon as the words fall from your lips, Bucky’s head snaps in your direction.

Did you just ask him out?!

“Like on a – on a date?” He says, still flabbergasted.

“Yeah.”

“What happened to the ‘No Dating Cops’ policy?”

“I’ve decided to ignore it. I have a good feeling about this,” you mumble.

You don’t know how either of you came this close to sitting next to each other. Or was the couch always this small? Bucky hesitantly brings his hand up to cup your cheek and you immediately lean into it. You notice the way his eyes fall down to your lips.

“Wow, uh. Your lips are really close to mine,” you gulped.

“Uh-huh,” he replies, he continues to stare at your now slightly parted lips.

“I think we should kiss.” Your suggestion is merely a whisper.

“We should?”

“Only if you meant what you said earlier.”

He chuckles, and mutters “I meant every word.” And his lips press softly against yours. The kiss is gentle, sweet and so, so full of passion that you have to lean forward into his touch. He smiles against your lips and then tilts his head to deepen the kiss. Your fingers curl around his shirt, as you pull him as close to you as possible.

Somehow you end up lying against the armrest of the couch as Bucky hovers over you, lips still attached to yours, never giving you a chance to breathe. He does pull away though, only to pepper small kisses to the corner of your mouth and cheek and the tip of your nose, then comes back to place one last kiss on your lips.

By the end you’re both breathing a little too hard, goofy smiles on your faces. Bucky’s blue eyes seem darker, but full of adoration.

“I think we should save the rest for until after our date.” He knows you said that reluctantly with how you were still staring at his lips.

“As you wish, doll.” He said bumping your noses together, pulling out an airy laugh from you. His heart threatens to burst out just because of that lovely sound. And you giggle at the little pet name, knowing you’ll blush every time he’ll call you from now on.

Indeed, this was one of those days when something exciting happens at the precinct.

-fin

i hope you enjoyed reading! as always feedback is greatly appreciated! :)

the summary had me so hyped for this!!!! he was so protective and supportive and he just wanted the best for her always. and the way he empathized with her and calmed her nerves when she was about to take her test... this is love. my heart is so full rn, thank you for this.

Convalescence

Pairing: Paramedic!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Recovery is a long process; Bucky knows that better than anyone. He just really needs to get you standing before he can get down on one knee.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Descriptions of injury

a/n: This is a part two to my fic ‘Flashing Lights’! Read part one here!! Sorry for taking ten years to write it, but here it is!! :)

You can follow my library blog @pellucid-library​​​​ for fic update notifications 🤍

Masterlist

Part One

The red lights filtered through your living room window before the sirens sounded off. They were quick—just a heads up that it was your boyfriend banging up the stairs to your apartment. You rushed to grab your things before he got inside, but with your legs still stiff from your surgery all those weeks ago, ‘rushing’ was nearly impossible. 

“Hey, pretty girl, you ready to go?” Bucky called out, his boots heavy against the hardwood.

“Just a sec!” you yelled. “I need to grab my jacket.” 

“The one at the top of the closet? I’ll get it for you, don’t move.” 

Keep reading

when i read this the first time, i couldn’t believe it. from the summary and warnings, i knew there’d be angst and reader would be hurt... but it was written so well i was in disbelief. i had to reread that specific part twice before i could keep going. i was planning on rereading this fic soon, but then it appeared on my timeline thingy and i was like this is no coincidence. it’s the universe telling me to reread this rn. this is fate!!!! and then i read the tags and i went PART TWO?!? SIGN ME UP.

Flashing Lights

Pairing: Paramedic!Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky’s worst fears come true when he’s called to a scene. If he’s the one with the dangerous job, then why is it your life that’s hanging in the balance?

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Angst, descriptions of injury/physical trauma  

a/n: I think this is my favorite fic I’ve worked on!! Paramedic!Bucky makes me want to combust. 

Masterlist

Dating a paramedic in one of the most populated cities in America wasn’t always the easiest. He worked long hours, got called in during date nights, and was practically impossible to reach during his shifts. Bucky warned you this would be the case when you started dating, but that didn’t mean it made it any easier. 

You missed him constantly and worried about him even more. He didn’t have the most dangerous job compared to other first responders, but after the second time one of the drunk men he was helping landed him in the hospital, the worrying set in. Bucky could hold his own for sure, but the beer bottles they threw at his head still left him with stitches. 

Your boyfriend reassured you that there was nothing to worry about. He would come home with gauze wrapped around his head and take you into his arms, mumbling something along the lines of, “Missed you, sweetheart. Oh, this old thing? Just a scratch.” It wasn’t, but he looked too cute in his uniform for you to scold him. He obviously used that to his advantage. 

There were some benefits to Bucky’s occupation. The main one being that it was the reason you two met. Your best friend had begged you relentlessly to go to some children’s fair with her and her son, Toby. You, single and with no children, begrudgingly agreed after she bribed you with chocolate and a free dinner. It was pretty mundane for the most part, until you got to the paramedic’s booth. 

There, the most beautiful man you’d ever laid your eyes on was standing under a canopy tent, passing out stickers to the kids with a smile that melted your heart. He was wearing his uniform, the hat a little crooked, and would take breaks every once in a while to give the kids a tour of the ambulance behind him. When you and your friend made it through the line, he lifted his eyes and sent you a quick wink. 

Keep reading

don’t mind me. just still not studying. just reading fics on tumblr. just about to cry bc idk anything about what’s gonna be on my exams. just gonna reflect on how horrible today’s exams went... yup.

it’s exam season and i’m doing everything in my power to avoid studying

this. this is what i like to see. the way he was already into her way before he even touched her. from the beginning!!!! and he was so pleasantly surprised to see her seated in his bed for the first time. it was just so sweet. my heart is just so soft rn. i mean yes the smut is *chef’s kiss* but the feelings... bro i’m just so soft i can’t explain it.

good in bed

summary: based on good in bed by dua lipa. fwb to lovers, need i say more?

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: smut (!!) MINORS DNI, so much swearing, one (1) mention of miss natasha romanoff, mention of alcohol/being drunk

a/n: i draw a lot of inspiration from music so i was listening to this song and just got the urge to start writing. if you know this song or want to listen to it while reading, i hope you catch the obvious use of lyrics throughout. this is also my first time ever writing smut, and i was very very nervous but @starrysebastians and @pellucid-constellations helped me and gave me the confidence to do something new. feedback is always appreciated, i hope you enjoy !!

“You love to disappoint me, don’t you?”

Bucky gave you a smug look as he pulled his boxers on, knowing this happened every time. “Baby, please, can we skip this tonight?” He sighed and began gathering the rest of his clothes, truly looking exhausted. “Plus, I thought it was my turn to try and break things off.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you flopped back down into the mess of pillows; this was yours and Bucky’s little game. A 1am text, mind-blowing sex, clean up and go. Except one of you always tried to break it off. It varied depending on who texted who, and why they needed the release. But the base of it came down to one simple thing: you were not good for each other. I mean, you drove each other mad; not a single one of your friends would ever believe you all had been fucking at least three times a week for months now. Every time the group was together, you and Bucky were either at each other’s throats bickering or giving glaring looks across the room.

Everyone knew why, they could feel the sexual tension from a mile away. But the two of you were to goddamn stubborn to realize that, so you chalked it up to “he’s a asshole who’ll fuck his way through a bar” and “she’s a frigid bitch who needs someone to actually make her come.”

“You know I can tell when you fake your moans, darlin’,” The look on his face made you want to break his jaw right then and there, “you’re only a wall away. Let me have a night to show you how a real man can fuck you.”

It had started like any other one of Tony’s parties; you had one shot too many, and Bucky’s ego got inflated by the women fawning over him. He flirted shamelessly and you pretended to indulge him until he said something that pissed you off, and Natasha had to drag you away before you got too bold and actually tried to break his jaw.

But that night had been different. Maybe it’s because you drank less, so you were in the middle ground where you weren’t quite sober but not drunk enough to start swinging at the first off-handed comment. Or maybe you were just so damn tired of pretending that it wasn’t Bucky’s face you pictured every time some idiot recruit was brave enough to get into your bed. They were never - and you truly mean never - good. Call it a flaw in that SHIELD training, but every orgasm you faked had the thought of Bucky between your legs, finally being the one to make you come with something other than your hands. That perfect amount of tipsy had you loose-lipped and leaning more into his advances.

“Well Barnes, I think I may finally be ready to take you up on that offer.” The expression on his face may have had you laugh if you weren’t so desperate for him to take you seriously. You immediately have a flurry of doubtful thoughts racing through your mind; maybe he had never been serious, maybe the thought of actually fucking you disgusted him, maybe h-

Almost as if he could read your mind, he brought a gentle hand to your chin and forced you to meet his eyes. “Honey, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that.” He pressed an almost loving kiss to your lips before he took your hand and led you to the elevator.

You were confused. Hooking up with Bucky did not seem like it was going to be so intimate. Maybe he was all talk and mayb-

No, he most definitely was not. The second you were in the elevator he was all over you. Tongues clashing and hands everywhere, washed in urgency. By the time he had you under him in his bed, you were both free of clothes save for your underwear; and you silently prayed that nothing had come off in the hall, because you did not want to provide any kind of explanation in the morning.

His hands tugging at your panties brought you back to the moment, and the look on his face could have made you come right then and there.

He softly spread your legs apart, placing light kisses along your calves and thighs, teasing you, and your hips bucked up just enough to have him place his left arm across your waist to keep you pinned down.

“Uh huh, pretty girl, I’m gonna take my time with you. You deserve to feel all the things you’ve been missing.” And with that he finally made contact with where you needed him most. His fingers rubbed gentle circles on your clit as he watched your head fall back in satisfaction. He could swear that you looked ethereal with the way the moonlight fell over your body.

When his mouth replaced his fingers, and he pushed a digit into you, the moan you let out was nearly pornographic. With all the bad sex you’d had lately, you’d all but forgotten how it felt the be touched like this. The second finger he slid into you had you on the edge, and he could tell by the way you clenched around him.

“Let go, baby. I’ve got you. I promise.” You couldn’t tell if it was the crook of his fingers or his lovely words that finally pushed you over the edge. In the end it didn’t matter which, because you were riding a high you had never experienced before. He held your hips in place until you came down, then placed a trail of sloppy kisses up your abdomen before reaching behind you to unhook your bra. The second it was off, his lips were wrapped around a nipple, and he ground his hips into yours as he felt it harden underneath his touch.

Not wanting to wait a second longer, you reached down to tug his boxers down. And he, too blissed out to even think about stopping you, he helped get them off before quickly hovering his body over yours.

As he slid into you, the air left your lungs, body stretching to take him all in. At your first moan he leaned to whisper in your ear, “I’ve been waiting so long to do this. So goddamn long,” and captured your lips in a needy kiss. It was messy, with tongues exploring and teeth clashing, and it perfectly encapsulated your relationship with Bucky. As his pace became more and more uneven, you reached a hand between your bodies, rubbing quick circles around your clit; Bucky bit his lip watching you, and the sight of your action combined with his fixation on the space where your bodies met had him teetering on the edge of his orgasm.

“I need you to come, pretty girl. I can feel how close you are, come for me.” The coil in your stomach finally snapped and Bucky could feel your walls squeezing him for all he was worth. His words were gravely and filled with urgency. “I’m gonna come baby, where do you want me?”

“Inside me, please. Please Bucky - fuck - I need you to fill me up. I want all of you.” His thrusts were erratic and sloppy as he spilled into you, not sure if he would ever stop. He didn’t pull out at first, instead leaning down to press a series of kisses up your chest and neck before slotting his lips against your own.

As he finally removed himself, he let out a low hum at the sight of your release mixing with his, slipping down onto the sheets. He started to harden again and brought you up, chest to chest, with him. The feel of his warm breath against your ear had chills running down your spine. “I know you can handle another round, sweetheart, let me make you feel good all night long.”

And for the next few hours you learned the full truth of what Bucky had been teasing you about all this time.

And the more you learned, the more you let your distaste for Bucky go. You tried to tell yourself, both of you tried to tell yourselves, that it was just the release of the sexual tension that had been pent up for so long. Because you couldn’t possibly have feelings for each other, no. A tenuous friendship, maybe, but nothing more.

Which brought you back to now, where you were yet again trying to end things for the hundredth time. “Well maybe if you knew me the way you know my body,” the words slipped out of your mouth before you had a chance to catch them. What did that even mean, had you just confessed to thinking of this as more than a teammate with benefits situation? Did he even hear you? With the look he gave you and the immediate rush out the door, you knew he had.

You knew you fucked up, of course you would eventually. That’s why you kept on trying to stop it - what “it” was. But that didn’t explain why he tried the same thing. You couldn’t wrap your head around it, so you took this interaction as a confirmation of the end.

So how were you in Bucky’s bed with his face in between your thighs just days later, feeling higher than you ever had before? When you pushed your way into his room, you thought maybe you could talk things through, figure out just what your words meant, maybe officially end things. But you knew each other too well, better than anyone else did, and you fell into each other’s arms before either of you could speak a word. Because you didn’t know how to talk, but damn you knew how to fuck.

You couldn’t stay away from each other, and you were determined to figure out how he felt about you - really felt about you - because you knew the longer this went on, the more it would hurt for it to finally end. You would think that the past few months would have already made it hard regardless, and it would be hard, but you were pretty good at keeping your feelings in check. Maybe Bucky had been right about you being a frigid bitch. But you could only hide for so long, and your facade was starting to crumble very quickly. You were determined to force both him and yourself to face the truth of your situationship, no matter what the end result was.

Though when a month had passed and you were on your sixth night in a row of sneaking out of Bucky’s room, it became glaringly obvious you weren’t great at confronting feelings you had buried under a mountain of orgasms. As he pulled out and helped you both clean up, he was confused that when he came back out of the bathroom, you weren’t pulling on your clothes to head out the door. Instead, you were sitting up, sheets pulled just barely over your chest, evidently waiting for something.

“You- you’re staying?” His words weren’t harse like you were expecting; they were almost hopeful, and that made your heart swell as you took a deep breath to prepare yourself for your next words.

“I’m done with this, for the last time, but maybe not in the way you think. I’m falling in love with you, Bucky. It’s driving me mad and I’ve never felt like this before. I never in a million years thought I would be in this position, but fuck am I glad that I am. No matter what you say next, I will never regret a second of this. I’ve been more alive in the past six months than I can ever remember, but if you don’t feel the same, I swear I’ll be okay. We can go back to pretending to hate each other, or maybe even be friends, and no one ever has to know. There will be no hard feelings even though right now I’m wishing with everything in me that you feel the same.”

You finally looked up to meet Bucky’s eyes, trying desperately to catch your breath.

The most content smile you had ever seen crossed his face. You thought the anticipation might kill you as you wait for his next words. “You called me Bucky.”

“That’s your main takeaway here?” He was unbelievable, and a goddamn fantastic actor, apparently. Any daydream you had of him returning your feelings was quickly making an exit; you just hoped he wouldn’t make fun of you anymore than this. And you prayed to anything out there that he wouldn’t tell the whole team you were pining for him while he had just been getting a good fuck.

“You called me Bucky. Since the day I met you, it’s always been Barnes, or a colorful array of nicknames. Sometimes James when you’re really trying to prove a point. But you’ve never called me Bucky. That means just as much as you saying you love me.”

“I didn’t say - “

“I love you too. I’ve loved you since that first week when you knocked me on my ass for touching your candy stash,” That had you wearing a very proud smirk, “and I would have been content without any of this, with only being your friend. Hell, that's the whole reason I kept annoying you, just so I could be around you in any way. I don’t give a damn if this is cheesy or cliche, because I love you, and I feel honored that a wonderful dame like you would want to give me the time of day.”

You swear to god that your stomach was doing more somersaults than a session of Nat’s training as Bucky made his way to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling your face towards him the same gentle manner he had the first time he had kissed you. That caress shared more words than either of you could ever say, and you found yourself becoming putty in his loving hands.

He pulled back just an inch, much too far in your opinion, with a small laugh. “You know they already know, right? The team.” The gasp that left your mouth and the borderline terror in your eyes told him that you most certainly did not know. “They’ve been making bets on how long it would take for us to confess, and who would do it. They don’t know that I know; but for some Avengers, they’re awfully loud with their secrets in the kitchen.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so instead you decided to pull his body down over yours, already forming a plan to teach them a lesson about being so goddamn nosy.

tagging people who interact w me sometimes *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

@lovinggbarnes @artisancowbells @comfortbucky @starbuckie @belladonnabarnes @my-divine-death @buckys-darling @angrythingstarlight @asgardwinter @gray-reads @wkemeup @hysterekle

oh yes this was so easy to read, i loved it. like i just got sucked into this fictional world, the size of a one-shot, and watched everything happen with my own eyes. the tension, the feelings, the angst!!!!

505

summary: love can only last so long for two highly trained assassins

pairing: assassin!bucky x assassin!reader

word count: 6k

warnings: mentions of reading being "physically fit" due to training but no other body description, use of hard drugs/overdose, described murder, weapons, mentions of torture (this does get mildly graphic but not like... gory idk), smut (MINORS DNI), use of fake names, a lot of reader's background comes from the show scandal

a/n: i know the warnings make this sound super hardcore but it's really not terrible, but do heed them if you're sensitive to anything mentioned (and if you have any specific questions feel free to message me about it!!). i actually really enjoyed writing this even though it took me about two weeks of going back and forth. also loosely inspired by 505 by the arctic monkeys. always thankful for @pellucid-constellations who tells me whenever my writing is shit xoxo

505. Exactly where you needed to be. In less than 30 seconds, you had the lock picked and stepped silently into the room. It was a pretty typical target: son of a politician, kept entertained by money, drugs, and women. From the drug you had slipped into his drink at the bar downstairs, you suspected he should already be sedated in the room. However, you didn’t expect to see him already tied up, body slumped over in a chair. Just as quickly as you realized, you had your gun pulled from your thigh holster, pointed at the figure across the room.

With your guns trained on one another, he stepped out of the shadows. Another thing you hadn’t been prepared for: your unexpected guest was also the most beautiful man you had ever seen. You both slowly circled the room, sizing each other up.

“Who the hell are you?” Your voice was strong and commanding, and obviously seemed to have taken him aback. A small surge of pride was over you as his composure cracked, for a brief second, before hardening back to his impassive expression.

“Who the hell are you?” The nerve of this man, as if you would tell him. Well, the shoe’s on the other foot and all that. The most important question here was why. Why did he have your target tied up? Why was another organization able to get their hands on your intel? Why hadn’t you made a move yet?

At this point, you weren’t entirely interested in digging for information you likely wouldn’t get from this man, or the one on the chair. You just wanted to take out the mark and get back to your own hotel. You could see your feelings mirrored in your competitor, and decided you might as well press your luck.

“Let’s make a deal. I won’t kill you, you won’t kill me, and we can both kill this target. Whatever information you're looking for I’ll be able to keep to myself and then we can both be on our merry way. I’m not in the mood for a fight tonight, and you’re way too pretty for what I would do to you.”

This time, he couldn't mask the surprise on his face, or the quirk of his mouth as he contemplated your offer. Finally, he nodded, gesturing at your gun to call a truce. You both lowered your weapons before taking a few steps to meet in the middle of the room.

“James Grant, pleasure to meet you.” He let out a small huff of laughter at your narrowed eyes, holding his hand out for you to take. “I’d like to at least know what to call the beautiful woman I’ll be working with.”

Reaching to give him a dainty handshake you answered, “Elizabeth Hart. Though that’s not what my friends call me.” If you were never going to see this guy again, might as well have a little fun right?

“Oh, is that right? And when do I get the pleasure of being considered your friend?” Wanting to match his demeanor, you informed him that after this was finished you might give him a little more. At this point, you were practically nose to nose, his breath hot on your cheek. Just as he made the tilt of his head towards your mouth, you stepped back.

“Oh James, I know you're smarter than that. Let’s get a move on here. What was your plan? He’s too young for potassium chloride, they’d never believe a heart attack - I personally have some coke laced with fentanyl. Figured with a 21 year old playboy who frequents parties just like tonight’s, it’d be automatically ruled an overdose. Thoughts?”

(Bucky's thoughts were that he might already be in love, not that he would ever tell another soul that bit of information, least of all her.)

“I figured pills, but I like your idea better.” He immediately wanted to wipe the smug look off your face. “Don’t get too flattered, sweetheart, I really-” He was cut off by the groan of… what was his name again? John or Josh or something of the like. Though you had just been talking about the details of his death, you nearly forgot he was even there.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. It’s time we all have a little chat.” You had mastered the sickly sweet and condescending tone, it just made it all the more fun. He started begging to be released, bribing you with money, the typical responses you usually got. Instead of listening to his pleas, you and James started a fun little game. One of you would ask a question, he would refuse to answer, the other would force a line up his nose, then discuss your favorite techniques, weapons, etc. until he finally gave in. Once he started babbling and dribbling vomit, you set your stage. While James unreleased him from the satin restraints (perfect if you didn’t want to leave any obvious marks), you set up some lines of coke, adding the finishing touch of a streak right under his nose. Looking up from your handiwork, James had an expression akin to awe on his face.

“As much as I adore that look you’re giving me, I think it might be time to get out of here.” You fully expected to get out of this hotel and part ways, and never see each other again; but apparently James had other plans. The second the elevator doors closed, he had you pushed against the wall, lips on yours like his life depended on it. He wasted no time kissing down your neck and the deep slope of your dress, until the elevator dinged, signaling that you had arrived at the lobby. The both of you exited with perfectly blank expressions, as if you were total strangers, but once you stepped out onto the sidewalk, you turned your head just enough for him to hear you.

“My hotel is two blocks away. Be smart about it.”

--

You’d had a lot of sex, and you had no shame about it, but James was irrefutably the best you’d ever had. His head was buried between your thighs as he pulled your third - fourth? - orgasm out of you. He hadn’t even fucked you yet, and you already knew he was the best. By the time he let his lips trail back up your body, you were begging for more.

“Be patient, Liz, I’ll give you exactly what you need.” With that he pinned your hands above your head, and took the moment of surprise to bury himself in you. The feel of him stretching your walls was an incredible euphoria you didn’t think you could ever describe with words. His precise movements had him grazing your sweet spot with every thrust, and you were a whining mess beneath him. “Go ahead, baby, make a mess all over me.” Determined to edge you on, he put all his effort into sucking new marks across your neck and collarbones, until the coil winding in your stomach finally snapped.

As your high crashed over you, he took the opportunity to change positions, pulling you into his lap for you to ride him. This new angle pushed him even deeper into you, and you didn’t think it could get any better until he lifted his hips to push into you even more, causing him to bury his cock so far into you, you thought he might very well have bruised your cervix.

The throbbing pulse of you wrapped around him as you came down from your orgasm had him crying out and sputtering a string of expletives as you felt him get closer to his edge.

“You gonna let me fill this pussy up, pretty girl? You look so good on top of me like this. Wanna stuff you so full I’m leakin’ out of ya for days, that way you never forget who fucked you this fuckin’ good.” The nodding of your head was so urgent and pleading he had to close his eyes as his hips finally stuttered, keeping his promise of stuffing you full. As they finally fluttered open, he was graced with the sight of you with your hands splayed across his chest, barely able to hold yourself up. He grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you in for another searing kiss before gently lifting you off his lap and beside him in the bed.

For as physically fit as your training had made you, it took an almost embarrassingly long time for you to catch your breath. Once your chest finally began to fall into an even pattern, you glanced over to James, who was already staring at you. The skip in your heartbeat had you slipping out of the bed and heading for the bathroom to gather yourself. By the time you came out, you fully expected him to be dressed and ready to go, but instead he was resting with his back against the headboard, hands tucked behind his head, clad only in his boxers.

“I promise I won’t kill you if you let me stay the night.” His lazy smile somehow made you give him all the trust in the world. It shouldn’t, considering you were both highly trained assassins, but you figured if you were gonna die you might as well do it sexually satisfied.

“Fine, but I’m not spooning you.” You giggled, actually giggled, as he tugged you flush against his body. And either by exhaustion or comfort, you slept better than you had in years.

The sound of the door shutting early the next morning had you sitting straight up, the gun you had hidden beside the bed already cocked and aimed. It took you about 10 seconds of disorientation before you realized it was James sneaking out. Holding onto the fond memories of last night, it took you a moment to notice the scrawl across the hotel notepad beside the bed.

hope i see you again soon.

ps, i wanted to give you a little hint: buchanan

Below there was also a crude drawing you couldn’t quite make sense of. Resigned to just figure it out on your plane ride home, you slipped it into the side pocket of your bag before gathering the rest of your things.

One last look around your hotel room cemented the rush of memories from your heated night with James. Wherever he was, you hoped he would think about you just as much as you would him.

--

Back in D.C., you were still staring at the note James had left you, until your boss knocked on your office door. Olivia waited all of 5 seconds before turning the handle, barely giving you enough time to stuff the note underneath a stack of case files.

“Good morning, Y/N. You’re glowing; did you get lucky on this mission?” She already knew - Olivia knew everything before it even happened. But your power nearly rivaled hers, so what she didn’t know was who it had been. Although you supposed you really didn’t know either. “Don’t answer, of course you did. You brought Quinn coffee this morning and you don’t do that unless you’re in a really good mood. And seeing as you only got back yesterday, you haven’t really had time to do anything other than get laid.” Damn her, genius woman. “Oh, and you didn’t do a very good job of covering those hickies.” Choking on your own spit, you looked up to see the ridiculously smug look on her face. You were lucky she was your best friend or you would be fucked. People rarely came out unscathed when they got on the wrong side of Olivia Pope.

“Yes, fine, I had the best sex of my life. That’s all you need to know for now. So, you’re here on a Monday morning instead of The White House, what’s going on?” Olivia, along with you and two other amazing women, ran OPA by day and B613 by night. So on your average day, when there was no one needing to be questioned or killed, the three of you worked as a team to mitigate the crises of Washington D.C.’s politicians and elite. By night, you managed a covert government agency known as B613. Well, you managed the field agents while Olivia took care of the rest.

“I just got a call from Nicholas Fury. He has a problem that he believes we can help with.” Nicholas Fury, like, the Nick Fury, director of SHIELD? What the hell was going on? “He’s sending two partners,” she meant government assassins, “to us right now. Their plane from New York lands in two hours, do you think you could pick them up?”

This was an odd situation. While SHIELD held a reputation, albeit disguised under a legitimate government corporation, you all preferred to keep under the radar. And by under the radar, you meant only the only people outside of OPA that knew B613 existed was the president and the head of the CIA. So why were you suddenly teaming up with SHIELD? It didn’t make sense, so you asked her as much.

“Let me rephrase; he needs help from OPA. There’s been an issue with one of their own that they need handled discreetly.” She paused to take in the look on your face. “No more questions, you’ll know the rest when they get here.”

--

Senator Alexander Pierce. Of course. Best friend of Nick Fury and certified scumbag, had been made aware of the more… intense work that SHIELD did. Fury wanted you all to uncover something career-ending on Pierce before he could take his news public. Simple enough. Your personal approach here was to torture him for information, scare him enough that you most likely would never have to use it, and be on your way. Of course, you couldn’t let these two agents - you had learned their names were Steve and Natasha - know your plan. Instead, you exchanged a look with Olivia, who ushered them into her office.

You turned towards your friends with a pleasant, almost eerie smile. “Okay, ladies, let’s do this. Abby, start digging. Quinn, come with me.” Abby headed to her office to dive headfirst into her slew of confidential files, while you started explaining your plan to Quinn, who was more than happy to be of help.

By the time Natasha and Steve were stepping out of the office, you already had the entire plan put together.

Abby had found some interesting paper trails regarding Pierce’s involvement with exclusive escorts. While this was a good start, it was nowhere near the catastrophic level needed in this case. But it was posed in such a way that the SHIELD agents wanted to be involved in this part of the investigation directly. So while Abby held them with tracking down his tricks and forming a timeline, Quinn would keep surveillance outside Pierce’s house while you made your way inside to interrogate. Olivia would return to her usual Capitol duties, more so to keep her name out of the news than anything, unless she was needed in a detrimental situation. Once you had the information you needed, Abby would create some fake documents to back up your findings, and Fury would be satisfied. The plan was so simple, so easily executable that not even Quinn in her first week at the firm could have screwed it up.

But of course, your life was never easy.

--

About a week later, you sat happily humming to the song that had caught your ear on the radio, debating your next move with Pierce. It was a very methodical routine you had: cause a little pain, remove the duct tape from his mouth, press record. If he gave you information, you gave him a break. If he refused, you would start all over. You had been going at it for a little over an hour now, the sun long set, when you heard the creak of a floorboard by the back door. Feeling an overwhelming sense of deja vu, you were on your feet, gun trained on the dark figure. The sight of James made your knees nearly buckle. What the hell is he doing here?

“You,” the viciousness in your voice clearly unnerved him, because he lowered his gun in surrender. But you were on the defense now, deep suspicion creeping into the back of your mind. You didn’t believe in coincidences, especially not in this line of work. He had to have been following you, maybe even before you met in that hotel room. Considering the fact that you were halfway around the world that last time only added to your substantial misgivings. With each step toward him - gun still aimed - he took one back, until he was against the wall. You trailed a hand down his jaw, then lower to grip his throat, just to watch him shiver. “Hey, pretty boy. Wanna tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?” Another chill ran through him at the deep, sultry tone of your voice.

“Yes, yes, let me explain. Not here, you know that, but I’ll explain.” His extreme willingness also made you weary, but maybe he was just stupid. Regardless, you still had a job to do.

“Are you going to kill me?” He shook his head. “Okay, well now that that’s settled, either help me or sit there and shut up. Or if you would like to give me a little hint about our talk later, I promise he’s in no position to repeat anything right now.”

“I’m here for him,” he gestured toward Pierce’s paling body. “That’s all I can say for now.”

It shouldn’t have shocked you, really it shouldn’t have. But it did and now all you wanted was to know more. But you still have a job to do. Your conscience was very dedicated to her work, obviously. So James sat beside you on the floor while you finished, watching you more than anything else.

You spent another two or so hours slowly dragging the information out, with James occasionally lending a hand. When you were done, you cleaned his visible wounds and packed up your bag of goodies, leaning down to whisper one last threat as you turned toward the back door, gesturing for James to follow you.

On the way out the back door, you made sure to wipe any evidence of your being there and re-enabled his security system, as well as shooting Quinn a message of “all clear”, and waited to hear the surveillance van pull off. Turning to James, you nodded toward the road, and he quickly fell in step behind you. The four block journey to your car was absolutely silent, bordering on tense, yet not quite. For some reason, your suspicion had subsided, and that caused you to make an incredibly stupid, possibly catastrophic, decision as you approached the vehicle. James stood fidgeting on the sidewalk, waiting for your next move. You sighed, knowing you were about to seal your fate.

“Get in, we’re going to my place.”

--

As soon as the two of you stepped into your loft, you had your gun pressed into James’ back.

“Sit down and start talking.” You gave him a push towards the couch and took a seat across from him in your chair. You didn’t want to let on that you had a sense of trust in him, or that you already had feelings that were more than a heated one night stand. He looked you in the eyes, and you tried to keep them emotionless, before taking a deep breath.

“I work for SHIELD-” He can’t get any further because you let out a gasp and drop your gun onto your living room rug. Your eyes flashback to that stupid drawing on his note - a shield. You want to say so many things, but you need more answers, so you just nod and let him continue. “Nat and Steve, they’re my best friends, we all work at SHIELD. They were supposed to come down here to get dirt on Pierce while I - well, while I took care of him. But then I saw you, and it felt like my heart got ripped out of my chest. There was always a rumor in our unit that OPA was somehow involved, but I didn’t expect for it to actually be B613. And you, no wonder you’re so goddamn good at what you do. Do you know they call you the Night Witch? Most people think you’re just a ghost story - like the Winter Soldier. But here you are, and I know you could and probably will kill me, but I’m begging you not to. We can work together. I want to, I want everything for you.”

You stared at him, for far too long, trying to decide what to do. You had never been in any situation like this before, and that said a lot considering your jobs. While all logic seemed to fail you,your instinct never lied. So even though your brain was screaming at you to stop, you lurched forward and crashed your lips to James’, desperate for another night like you had just a week ago - had it really only been a week? As you moved to straddle him, he grabbed your hands and held them to your chest, whispering something so low you could barely hear. “Bucky.”

You cock your head to the side, staring at him with wide eyes.

“James Buchanan Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky. That’s my real name.”

You pressed your lips to his again, foreheads resting together, and told him your full name. The thought of revealing your true identity, your true double life, with someone you barely knew had you both terrified and giddy. Pushing away your fear of tomorrow, you pull him from the couch and into your bedroom, not wasting a minute before you’re both wrapped in bliss.

--

You don’t think Olivia had ever been more mad at you. Once you arrived the next morning, she dragged you into her office before you could get a word in. The look in her eyes said nothing but speak, so what else could you do? When you finished, she proceeded to let you know what an idiot you were, how she wouldn’t hesitate to have you taken out if you  threatened the security of B613, and also that she loved you despite all that.

“When you came back from that mission, that was the happiest I had seen you since-” You cut her off with an ice cold glare. “It’s the happiest I had seen you in a long time. Even now, I can tell something’s different. So just- just be smart, okay? I don’t want to see you hurt in any way.”

As far as Olivia Pope goes, this was as close to a blessing as you would ever get. You weren’t going to take it for granted.

By the end of the week, Natasha and Steve seemed to be satisfied with the amount of information you had collectively gathered. Along with making no public appearances - you may be a little proud of your handiwork - they assumed all way clear for the time being. On your way to drop them off at the airport, you wanted to ask about Bucky, learn more about him, more than just what was shared over takeout and long nights in your bed. Obviously, you knew you couldn’t, but you wanted something real with Bucky. Even with Peter, you had never felt this before.

Peter Quill, the man you thought was with you till the end. Also the same man who tried to kill you and everyone you loved. You had let him into your life and he betrayed you at the first opportunity. You were forced to kill the man you thought you would marry to protect OPA. You couldn’t handle that heartbreak again.

All you could do was hope that Bucky was different.

--

This was your favorite part. Sauntering up to the bar, you leaned over to get the attention of the bartender. Once you had ordered your drink, you glanced to your right to see Clint Barton looking directly down the front of your dress - go figure. You gave a flirty wink, planting the bait. He attempted to chat you up while you waited for your drink, and a hand slipped to your lower back. He was so close to your mouth you could smell the whiskey and cigars on his breath. Right as he tried to close the distance between you two, Bucky was at your side, giving him a slight push backwards.

“Woah, dude, what’s your problem?” Clint’s words slurred, and it only makes this plan even sweeter.

“I’m her husband, and who the hell are you?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of you.

“I’m Clint Barton, baby, and your wife here is one hot piece of ass. It’d be a shame if you didn’t share.” You can tell in his mind that he thought that was a smooth line, but if it had been anyone else on the receiving end, he would have been laid out right in the middle of the bar floor. Unfortunately for him, you and Bucky weren’t just ‘anyone else’ and he was in for a hell of a night.

“You know what, I think you’re right.” Bucky nodded to you, knowing your confirmation will officially seal the deal.

“Yeah, honey, James here doesn’t mind sharing. Meet us up in our room in 10 minutes. Room 218, don’t be late.” With that, you reached over to grab your glass from the bartender, and Clint was too busy staring at your chest again to notice you slip something into his drink. As you turn, Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist to lead you out of the bar, and you gave Clint one final wink before disappearing.

That was how you and Bucky spent the next few months, helping each other on missions that were meant to be solo, and making them even more fun. In such a short time you had fallen so deeply in love with each other. The weeks you spent away from each other broke your heart, him in New York and you in D.C. But every chance you could get away, mission or otherwise, you were attached at the hip. No one knew but Olivia - and Steve, Bucky needed a cover - and she had become surprisingly supportive. After the third weekend in a row you disappeared, she demanded to meet him. The two of them together in your apartment started with incredible tension, but by the time Olivia left you could feel the mutual respect.

You started to let yourself dream a little; dream about a normal life, stepping down from B613, just staying at OPA for Olivia’s sake, and maybe even moving out of the city and settling down eventually. And you wanted that all with Bucky. Each time you saw one another, it felt like it was another step closer to being possible.

Until around the eight month mark, you stopped hearing from him. He stopped answering your calls and eventually his number became disconnected. When two weeks passed and Olivia hadn’t heard from you, she showed up to your apartment to find you curled on the couch. You hadn’t moved in eight days, except to use the bathroom and grab crackers from the kitchen. You stared at the TV crying, and when you could cry anymore, you just stared. Olivia wanted to be mad, and she was, but more than that she was heartbroken to see her best friend in such an awful state. You hadn’t even been this bad after Peter. Bucky had taken your heart with him wherever he disappeared to. Olivia left and was back within an hour with groceries. After she put food in the oven, she cleaned your bed sheets and put them in the washer, then coaxed you to the shower to clean up. After you had eaten a few bites of dinner, she put you in bed and held you until your tears lulled you to sleep.

She did this for another few weeks, gradually getting you back out into the world, whether it be to grab coffee, walk in the park, and eventually spending time in the office not even working, just to be there. At the two month mark, you begged her for a mission - anything to take your mind off Bucky.

You threw yourself back into your work, acting like you had never even met him. You knew this would come back to bite you in the ass, but the only thing on your mind was not having him on your mind.

Every mission you were a little more reckless, doing whatever necessary to finish the job, even if it wasn’t the safest. What was the point, right?

The point, it seemed, was to face your demons. You just didn’t know that yet.

--

You were in Berlin when it all fell apart.

Olivia didn’t want you to go solo, wanted Quinn at your side just in case, but you insisted. Against her better judgement, she allowed it; she was doing a lot just to keep you sane these days.

That’s how you ended up in the back room of this seedy club, perched on the lap of the most notorious gang leader, Jonas Remmo, in Northern Berlin. You weren’t even there to take him out, just get a little information to kickstart Olivia’s investigation. So you were whoring yourself out for the night; it wasn’t the first time and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. As you listened to Jonas talk about business you had no interest in, you noticed a guard of his by the closest door was particularly fidgety. Getting suspicious, you leaned down to whisper in Jonas’ ear that you would be right back, and he waved you off. Before you were fully in the bathroom, someone had shoved you in and slammed the door closed, pushing your back flat against it. Your gun clattered across the tiles, and wide eyes looked up into familiar blue ones.

You felt the blood drain from your body, and all of a sudden you were back on your couch, wallowing in your heartbreak.

“What the ever loving fuck are you doing?” You hissed, body going rigid with anger. This couldn’t be real life, it just couldn’t. This is the kind of shit that only happens to main characters in a TV show. “I could kill you right now, I hope you know that. I have more knives strapped to my body than you could ever guess, and no reason not to do it. Now tell me what the fuck you’re doing.”

“Baby, let me explain, please. It just-”

“Don’t fucking call me baby.”

He took a step back, then two more. He was walking on thin ice and he knew it.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I could give you any more words to express how sorry I am. Fury sent me off the grid, to Siberia. I didn’t have time to tell you, or anyone for that matter. I think he was catching on to us; he thinks I can’t do my job if I’m ‘distracted’. And normally I would say he was wrong, but I haven’t thought of anything but for months; I would do anything for you. I would leave this all behind for you without hesitation. I just want a second chance, even a chance at a second chance. Please.”

“You want me to forgive you? And expect you’ll want to give all this up? We’re in this till we die, Buck. You know that as well as I do; there’s no getting out. I don’t want to hear pretty promises you can’t deliver on.”

“Baby. Sorry, just please. Give me the chance to prove myself. I’m all in for you. I-” His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “I love you.”

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and you thought he might be about to drop to his knees to beg. He brought your walls down, and you didn’t make good decisions. You needed to think this through on your own.

The breath you took in was more of a rasp, and Bucky’s heart dropped. “I’m sorry, you need to leave. I just- I can’t give you an answer right now, and I have a job to do. If you still feel like this when I’m done, you’ll know where to find me. But this isn’t the time or place.”

All he could do was hang his head, knowing you wouldn’t change your mind - but he didn’t know how desperately you wanted to pull him into you. Instead, you both walked out the door, and you headed back to your mark. As you opened the curtain, you gave one last glance back at Bucky, who stood still in the crowd of people, looking at nothing but you.

The rest of the night could be described as one of the worst missions in your entire career. You were spaced out, and didn’t get any of the information you needed from this asshole. And once you stopped even responding to his advances, he pushed you off and told you to get out of his club. As much as you wanted to gut him for calling you useless, he wasn’t exactly wrong. Calling Olivia to update her on your failure, you step out into the night and find Bucky still outside, leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette. The second he spotted you, he stomped it out and rushed over.

“I know you told me to get lost but I won’t be able to even sleep until I-” You didn’t let him finish before you were grabbing his face and smashing your lips to his. Any feeling was better than this empty, aching hole in your heart. After a second of shock, he grabbed you by the hips, pulling your body closer to his. It felt like everything was right in the world again, but your moment of bliss was cut off by Liv calling you back. You pushed yourself off Bucky before grabbing your phone, turning away from him. He grabbed your hand, but you simply pulled away from him, tears already streaming down your face.

Bucky watched you disappear into the crowds of downtown Berlin, his heart shattering along the sidewalk cracks, when he noticed you had slipped something into his sleeve. He looked down at the crumbled piece of paper, and he thought he might be able to sweep those shards of his heart from the ground.

Hotel MANI. Ask for Mrs. Barnes.

20 minutes later, Bucky was staring at the hotel door. Room 505, it felt like a sign. Hands shaking just a bit, he inserted the key and pushed open the door. Everything was dark, except for a soft glow from the bedroom. He carefully made his way across the room, and when he finally saw you, laid out in the bed, his heart all but stopped.

You were waiting for him, smile as bright as he had ever seen it, and he felt whole again.

“James Buchanan Barnes. I would do anything for you, too. Maybe I’m an idiot, maybe I should be stronger, but I don’t want to. Not when it comes to you. You’re everything I never knew I wanted, and I can’t pass up the opportunity when I feel like this. Now stop looking at me with your mouth hanging open and get over here.”

Bucky was on the bed, kneeling in front of you, in less than a second; he took your face in his hands so gently it made you tear up. The kiss you shared was so full of love and intensity it was blinding, and everything felt right as you pulled him into you.

tagging fwens *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

@lovinggbarnes @artisancowbells @comfortbucky @starrysebastians @starbuckie @calisamcro @buckys-darling @angrythingstarlight @asgardwinter @gray-reads @igotnoname4thisblog @signofthebarnes @cupidsbarnes @belouva @holylulusworld @buckydaddy

𝐌𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 | 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬

summary: john walker is flirting with you in front of bucky and he won’t take it pairing: bucky barnes x female!reader word count: 2k warnings: john walker (yes, he is a warning), jealous!bucky, some angst, fluff.

english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

You snorted as you dropped between Bucky and Sam, your gaze on everything but the big jerk dressed as Steve sitting across from you. And by the time the vehicle started to move, you knew that you had regretted getting into it in the first place.

“You know we just saved your asses, right?” John Walker, the clown himself, questioned, shooting you an almost mocking look.

“We had everything under control.” You replied dryly, finally joining your gaze with his blue one, crossing your arms over your chest. You frowned when you saw how he blatantly moved his eyes from your face to your chest and vice versa, and Bucky could see it too as he immediately tensed sitting next to you.

“And if ’having everything under control’ means getting your butt kicked out, of course, you had everything under control.” John joked, but seeing that none of the three invited passengers smiled at his words, he sighed. “We’re on the same team, guys, c'mon. I don’t know why you act like you hate us.”

“We’re not on the same team, man.” Sam was quick to reply, as calm as ever. You found it incredible that he could maintain his composure even in such stressful situations.

“And we do hate you.” Bucky added, you nodded at his words.

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