Latest Posts by delicateflappizzaplaid - Page 4

Christmas Cookies - Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky notices Reader isn’t feeling the Christmas spirit this year so he does everything he can think of to bring it back to her.

Word Count: 1297

A/n: Day 22 and my little writing challenge is almost over, I’m very surprised I made it this far tbh but I’m also ready for a little break from posting everyday haha anyway that’s enough of me rambling, I hope you enjoy.

Something was wrong, Bucky could tell although he was sure exactly what it was. Two weeks into December and she was still yet to put up her Christmas decorations or even attempt to do anything in the Christmas spirit. Now to others that may not seem like a problem but he knew his girlfriend. Like clockwork he’d come home on December 1st and you could guarantee that the tree would be up, there would be Christmas music playing throughout their apartment and he would find her in the kitchen baking up a storm. This year however there had been none of that.

Now Bucky had let it slide, figuring work was busier for her as it was with most people at this time of year. He had noticed that she seemed to be leaving for work earlier and coming home later than usual so he put it down to her being tired but with one week to go until Christmas, he was finding it harder not to say anything.

So he had a plan, he’d been out and bought all the necessary ingredients to bake the Christmas cookies she always made and more than enough candy to decorate them, he had also picked up some already baked cookies ready to decorate just in case his didn’t go to plan. The first step in his plan though, was to decorate the apartment while she was out at work in hopes that her first steps into the apartment brought back some of that Christmas cheer she seemed to be lacking this year.

“Have a good day doll, don’t miss me too much” Bucky smiles over his mug of coffee as she passes him on her way out of the door. She replies with a wave and a tired smile before the door closes behind her, leaving him alone in the apartment.

With a sigh, Bucky drains the rest of the coffee in the mug and prays that his plan was going to cheer her up as he deposits the mug in the sink and he sets to work pulling the decorations out of the storage cupboard which doesn’t take him long and then all that’s left to do was to get a tree. Hopefully there were still some left this close to Christmas.

An hour later, he’d arrived home with the tree that he considered to be the best of the bunch, it wasn’t perfect but it would have to do. Getting it up to the apartment had been easier than expected but he put that down to the super serum coursing through his veins giving him more strength than the average male, not that it was anything to brag about given things he’d done with said strength that he was only just coming to terms with that were not down to him but more the mind control of Hydra.

Focusing his mind on the more pressing matter of decorating the apartment, he sets about fixing the tree to the base until he’s satisfied that it’s stable enough to not fall over before he finds the boxes of baubles. He knows she has a certain way of how she likes to place them, usually going back to rearrange them a few times until she is happy with the result so Bucky tries his hardest to make sure it looks good. By the time he’s finished he’s sure that the tree is evenly covered with baubles and he has to admit he’s done a better job than he expected to so he moves on to the rest of the decorations, little Christmas trinkets that she always puts out around the apartment.

After he finishes he grabs a quick spot of lunch and then decides to make a start on the cookies so that by the time she gets home they should be cool enough for them to decorate.

Pulling her bag higher on her shoulder, she steps from the lift and out into the corridor leading to the apartment but the moment she nears the door her heart drops, inside she can hear the high pitched screeching of the fire alarm. Scrambling for her keys, she lets herself in and upon opening the door the noise only gets louder. She knows the smart thing to do would be to wait outside maybe call 911 but she doesn’t see any flames only the haze of smoke drifting from the kitchen which is where she runs to but the last thing she’s expecting to see is the window wide open and Bucky desperately trying to waft the smoke away from the smoke alarm in hopes of quieting it. Despite the panic coursing through her she can’t help the smile that lights up her face at the scene in front of her.

Turning to the doorway as if sensing her presence, Bucky’s heart drops. This was not how he had planned to surprise her but the smile on her face is one he’s not seen for a while, too impatient to wait for the alarm to stop, he pulls it from its holder and yanks the batteries from it before he drops it on the counter.

“Thank god” he sighs in relief and the quiet but his ears are still ringing from the sound, “You’re home early” he comments, now making his way towards her and opening his arms as she melts into his hug, feeling the best she’s felt all day.

“Yeah, finished all I had to for the week and boss said I could go early” she hums, pushing her body further into his hold and he tightens his arms around her, “what were you up to anyway” she asks a little while later, her head tilting up so that she could look at him.

Bucky let’s out what sounds like a nervous chuckle, his non-metal hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “I was baking cookies as a surprise for you” he mumbles as her eyes soften from the curious look she was giving him to one that can only be described as lovestruck. ‘Usually by now you’re in such a festive mood and everything is fun and you’re happy but this year it seemed like all the happiness had been sucked from you and I just wanted to do something to get you in the christmas spirit but I almost burnt the apartment down instead" he pouts, a look he doesn’t often wear but she’s seen enough times.

“You didn’t have to do all that” she says softly, “though I do appreciate it but to me this year just doesn’t feel like Christmas and I don’t know why” she sighs, dropping her gaze and nuzzling her head into his chest.

“Well we have the rest of the afternoon and I have some perfectly good cookies that need decorating if you’re not too tired” Bucky suggests, reaching out to pull her from his chest, his hand just underneath her chin as he tilts her face towards him. Leaning in he places a soft kiss to her lips and he pulls away to find her smiling brightly.

“Let me just get changed and I’ll be right back” she nods, pulling free from him altogether as she heads back towards the living room, towards the bedroom but in the doorway she stops, just now noticing what she had been too distracted to see earlier, “You put up the decorations too” she gasps, her hands coming to rest on her chest and over her heart as she turns back to a smiling Bucky who nods at her words, “I love you” she smiles before rushing off to get changed out of her work clothes, so that she can get back to the man she loves.

Ajax Petropolus Relationship Headcanons

Fandom: Wednesday

When you make out, or really any time you're close enough his snakes like to join in showing you affection, whether his beanie is off or just one or two peaking out, they will bonk against you or try twisting into your hair.

For the longest time Ajax was embarrassed and tried stopping them so you didn't think he was weird, you told him you found it cute and he was so flustered.

No concept of personal space, he loves holding you, sits pressed against you with one arm around your lower back, loves having you sit on his lap, so much casual intimacy.

This boy is smitten, looks at you with stars in his eyes and will shoot up and leave Xavier behind the moment he sees you.

Wants to be king of good morning texts but it's more frantic afternoon texts.

Always tells you goodnight and will type out his morning text for you because he thought of something cute then totally forget to send it in the morning, realizes hours later when he's sad you didn't reply.

He keeps candy you like in his pockets or backpack, you'll be sitting together and suddenly just pulls out a few or a little baggie to share with you.

Torment him with cinnamon candy and Red Hots please.

He hates hot candy and doesn't understand why anyone wants to eat that. Sour candy fine, but why cinnamon hots.

But he also loves kissing you and wont turn that down even if his eyes are watering because you're cruel and purposely chowed a handful of the candies before sticking your tongue down his throat.

When you turn away he literally has tears pricking his eyes and he's trying so hard to be brave and Xavier's laughing at him.

Even though Gorgons are taught not to engage and start conversations, he has so much to say.

He's used to not talking a whole lot and being quiet, but he really wants to ramble and with you encouraging him to talk he finally goes off on a tangent about something on his mind then gets a little embarrassed he just did that.

But you tell him he's so cute and that you like listening to him talk. Cue flustered baby boy and his snakes sensing something's up and getting more excited trying to wiggle free.

Watching snake charmer videos on youtube and learning to copy it on a flute to surprise Ajax and see what happens.

His snakes are already pretty charmed with you, as smitten as he is, but you start playing and they kind of sway rhythmically while watching you and you cheer swearing it worked.

Ajax thinks you're too cute, he can't take how much you like him AND his snakes.

Please help him study. He bums off Xavier so bad for tests, if you can help he'll be grateful. If you can't help, well now Xavier has to put up with both of you. Bless him.

Loves gaming with you, will totally kick Xavier out of a co-op to have you with him then go begging for forgiveness for cheating on his bro.

Will talk about "the bro code" then drop everything to run after you like a puppy. Does not see the irony.

If you're competing in something he will cheer you on, if you kick his ass he will tell you how hot that was.

Swings your hands when you're walking together.

He has a ton of dumb sayings shirts and thinks they're great, will totally get you a matching one.

If he stones you by accident he is so apologetic and freaking out thinking you'll hate him and his snakes, even his snakes are droopy seeing you as stone.

Milkshake dates in Jericho sharing a single glass in an old diner with two straws.

Kissing his nose all the time and getting it back when one of his snakes gently nips yours.

He listens to Queens of the Stone Age and never realized the name until you pointed it out.

Playing with his hair isn't really an option besides the nape of his neck while making out, but you enjoy twining your fingers through his snakes while his head is resting on you.

Has stoned himself far more times than he wants to admit and you've learned that if he gives you an absolutely ridiculous excuse for what happened, that's probably it.

It's literally them

Percy Hynes White as Xavier Thorpe Wednesday (2022 - )

ajax x reader where he accidentally stones her and he feels really bad but reader comforts him??? 🫶

No Judgment

Pairing(s): Ajax Petropolus x Reader

Warning(s): Light swearing, Fluff, Reader loves plants - I know very little about plants, Drug mentions.

I couldn’t wait til Friday, so have this now 🤗

Further Notes: I don't know how this became so long, but it did. You put this one thought into my head anon and then bam, ideas flew. I hope that you enjoy the outcome of your prompt, if you don’t please don’t hold back - tell me - and I’ll have another go :)

Word Count: 1,384

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FOR some reason unbeknownst to him, Ajax's snakes had been restless for the last few hours.

The entire way through his last lesson of the day - botany - he had to keep carefully rearranging the blue beanie that rested on top of his head, tugging at the front and sides to ensure that everything remained covered.

Their continued activity was causing Ajax a headache, the boy grimacing as they only became more and more energetic in their movements.

Being his friend and partner in the class, you had promptly noticed his struggle and subsequent embarrassment, sending the gorgon a kind, reassuring smile to hopefully make him feel at ease. Gratefully, he gave you a smile back, making sure the material still covered past his ears at all times.

Miss Thornhill proudly stood in front of everyone, some type of deadly plant in hand, explaining a new partnered project that the entire class would be undertaking over the next few weeks.

“I feel like we’ve got an unfair advantage, with your rather astute connection to plants and all,” Ajax whispered, “I’m not complaining though, I’ll take any advantage towards a grade I can get.”

On the surface, your powers seemed underwhelming and incomparable to the talents other students at Nevermore harboured, but the deeper you delved into your abilities, the more handy they become.

You had the ability to manipulate the Earth. The power essentially to create all types of plants on command and make them grow or wilt, to puppeteer them to move around like animals to do your bidding, and give them the strength and protection to never be fully destroyed.

“The only reason that we’re friends in the first place is because you enjoy aspects of a certain plant in particular a little too much Ajax, and can exploit my abilities to get it,” You replied incredulously, only teasing the boy, “We wouldn’t have interacted otherwise.”

“That is so not true!” Ajax quickly responded, before jokingly teasing you right back, “It is however a very appreciated bonus that accompanies the simple pleasure of your company.”

You swatted at his chest lightly, rolling your eyes fondly at him. “We can get started on this later on today, it won’t take us - well me - long at all.”

As quickly as was possible after class ended, Ajax hurried back to his room, his snakes somehow managing to slightly slither out every now and then despite the boy maintaining a very tight grip on his beanie. Students stared at him weirdly as he passed them in the hallways, Ajax maintaining eye contact with nothing but the floor as he scurried down the corridors.

When he eventually made it, he slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, in his haste forgetting to lock it.

His snakes were getting borderline irritable at being stuck under the beanie at this point, so Ajax hurried around the room, rapidly covering any kind of reflective surface he could see with any opaque material he could get his hands on.

Taking a deep breath he removed the item of clothing, allowing his snakes to finally breath in the cool air. They danced together on top of his head, intertwining with one another as they happily tussled about.

Ajax sighed, relief coursing through his body as the tension that had been brewing in his head diminished.

“You’re so annoying,” He exasperatedly breathed out, his snakes recoiling slightly at his words before resuming their movements, “So annoying.”

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You watched as Ajax fled from the classroom the moment class was over, collecting your belongings before trying to follow after him, not wanting the boy to be alone when you know that there’s definitely something wrong with him.

The first stop you made was the pentagon shaped courtyard, hoping to see Ajax there. When you saw that he wasn’t however, your eyes brows furrowed in confusion, immediately turning around to leave.

“Hey! Are you not joining us today?”

“I’ll be back in a bit, got to go find Ajax to discuss our project.”

You hurried away from the group. Chances are that if he’s not in the courtyard, then he’s gone back to his room.

Whilst speed walking down the numerous hallways, you noticed something on your palm. Turning your hand over, you found a little plant that you must’ve subconsciously grown from you worrying about your friend. You reached out, gently running your fingertip against it’s stem, the plant daintily shaking one of it’s leaves back at you, almost like it was introducing itself.

“Hey little guy.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a girl watching you, her gaze extremely judgmental as she stared between the little green thing in your hand and you. Hastily, you walked past her, turning a few more corners before you found yourself outside of Ajax’s room.

Not realising that you were going to walk in, and you being so focused on the little plant resting in the middle of the palms of your hands that you were oblivious to Ajax’s current state, you were doomed from the very moment you stepped foot into his room.

“Ajax, look at this! Isn’t he cute?” You innocently asked, lifting your head to look at your friend, the gorgon reflexively turning around to you at the sound of his name.

“No, don’t look!” Ajax abruptly shouted, although it was already too late.

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YOU regained feeling in your limbs a couple of hours later, still standing in the same position as you had been when Ajax had turned around.

Blinking, you provided your stinging eyes with the relief they so desperately desired. Every muscle in your body ached as you became aware of your surroundings.

Ajax sat on the end of his bed, head in his hands, feeling too embarrassed and guilty to even look at you when he heard you moving.

You had immediately put two and two together, knowing from the moment you became friends that there was a possibility of something like this happening one day.

“Ajax,” You started softly, tentatively walking aver to him before placing your hand comfortingly on his shoulder, “It’s okay.”

His body jerked slightly, his shoulders raising up and down underneath your outstretched hand.

“Are you— Are you crying?” You gently asked, not wanting your friend to feel like you were teasing him in any way, shape of form for the emotion he was trying so hard to control, “Ajax?”

His little sobs intensified, the sound breaking your heart. You removed your hand from his shoulder, instead wrapping it around him and pulling him into your body, Ajax resting his head on your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” His broken voice whispered to you, “So, so sorry.”

“No, don’t be silly,” You practically cooed, “You’re already forgiven Ajax.”

“I literally turned you to stone, I’m a shit friend.”

“I barged into your room unannounced, if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s my own.”

He sighed, but his eyes slowly began to stop leaking, his chest resuming its usual breathing pattern.

You manoeuvred your bodies so that you were now lay down on his bed, Ajax lying on your stomach with his arms wrapped around your torso, you with your arms encircled around his shoulders, freeing your hands to rub comfortingly at his back.

It was silent for a while whilst the two of you just lay there, Ajax’s body tired from his rush of emotions, and your own weak after being tensed for so long.

“I just feel so useless,” The boy opened up to you, “I can’t even control my own snakes.”

“They are a handful, I’ll give you that,” You responded, the snakes hissing more intently from underneath his beanie making him shush them and you let out a laugh, “But they’re a part of you Ajax, and they’re only protecting you.”

He listened intently to your words, your voice calming him more than anything.

“Now, how about we forget all about what just happened, forget about the botany project for the time being, and just get stoned?” You suggested, retrieving the required object from your inside blazer pocket and holding it out towards him.

One of Ajax’s snakes slithered it’s scaly head out from underneath his beanie at your words, hissing happily at the prospect of stoning someone.

“I definitely didn’t mean by you buddy.”

you love me, i love you

description: peter parker is just too pretty to not kiss. (he thinks you are too.)

pairing: tasm!peter parker x reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: use of ‘pretty baby’, ‘angel’

what id do to make out with this boy help

“Is my pretty baby comfortable?”

Your heart swelled at Peter’s words which stuck to your mind like sweet syrup. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but you could hear him smile into his words. And hearing them yourself was like drinking a cup of warm honey tea. Your lip was tucked under your teeth as you chewed it, cheeks heating at his tone.

He could hear your heart race.

Your head was pulled into the warm crook of his neck. He felt you inhale, breath hot against his skin. Peter smelled nice. He always did. You could tell he used his aunt’s shampoo. It was sweet and strong, but not overwhelmingly so. Just enough.

Keep reading

Can our precious baker dance? ❤️

Pairing: Chubby Baker Bucky x Reader

CW: none.

Bucky can't dance. At all. He's got two left feet and a lifetime of shyness holding him back from dancing.

At least in public anyway.

He loves to dance while baking, usually singing with just enough rasp to his baritone that doesn't matter that he's slightly off key.

It's never anything too intricate, mostly just him swaying his hips, letting the rhythm guide him while he expertly whips up some new concoction.

You discovered his habit one foggy Sunday morning, he had gotten up way too early to make you breakfast, leaving you craving his touch more than you wanted one of his omelets.

You find your baker, dancing in front of the oven, loose grey sweats slung low over his hips. Your eyes drawn to his firm ass swaying back and forth as he hums, adjusting the heat on the stove. Early morning sunlight poured in through the open window, catching the specks of flour scattered across his bare chest and round, soft belly.

"If I knew you going to give me breakfast and a show I would have been down here earlier," you say, biting your bottom lip.

He turns to you, cheeks tinting pink at being caught, a flash of vulnerability darkens his eyes but it's gone the second he sees the way you're gazing at him.

"I um, hey," he laughs out, running his hand across the back of his neck, the adorable blush seeping across his chest. "Mornin' Peach."

"Morning Bucky," you respond softly, strolling towards him, his arms wrapping around you the second you're close enough to touch.

The song changes. It's a favorite of his. And when he dances with you around the small kitchen, moving slow and sweet and sure like he could live in the moment, like this is he dreamed of, this is the only place he wants to be with his large warm hand splayed across your back, his forehead on yours, it becomes your favorite too.

It turns into a tradition. He always wakes up too early. You always find him mid-song and lost in his baking. He always blushes no matter how many times you catch him. He always holds you like you're spun gold, beautiful and delicate and all his.

As much as he cherishes those dances with you, there's one more dance he's been thinking about, one that he's preparing for. He's been imagining it for a long time now, the two of you in the middle of the reception hall, your song playing as he guides you across the floor. He may not be a great dancer, but he's going to make sure that dance is perfect for you.

And then he wants a lifetime or two of early morning dances in the kitchen with you gazing at him with nothing but pure adoration as he tries some new move he learned simply to make you laugh.

Sebastian Stan in ‘Captain America: Civil War’, (2016). Dir. by Anthony and Joe Russo.

How do you see chubby!bucky’s body in your mind?

James Buchanan Barnes, aka Bucky, is an impressive six foot four (and half).

He has long, luscious chestnut hair that curls around the nape of his neck. He usually wears it in a low bun and he loves for you to play with his hair. And it almost always smells like your conditioner because he has a habit of using your products instead of his own.

Bucky has bright crystal blue eyes that seem to notice every single detail about you. They're so expressive, it's always so obvious when he wants you or when he's excited about anything.

He doesn't like to shave so he always has stubble on his round cheeks, if not a full beard. He's constantly blushing because of something you said or the way you looked at him. His deep, smooth voice is usually mumbling your name under his breathe whenever you do something to bring that blush out.

And he has the habit of biting his bottom lip, always leaving indents behind that you like to trace with your fingertip while he smiles down at you.

His biceps are massive from carting around sacks of flour and heavy kitchen equipment. He has a broad, toned chest with a grey surrealistic tattoo that wraps around his right shoulder and goes down to his wrist. It makes his right arm look as stunning as his vibranium one.

Bucky has a soft, round belly that's perfect for sleeping on, thick yet firm in the best way. There's a small happy trail that leads to a very impressive package surrounded by a pair of thick, hair covered thighs.

The incredibly annoying guy with the staring problem.

Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes in “The Falcon and The Winter Soldier” 2021.

𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐨.

i don’t know what it is, but this guy holds you so tight against his chest that you struggle to even breathe. and that’s only when he’s not directly on top of you, his face nestled into the space between your shoulder and neck, just taking in your smell. it takes all your strength not to sneeze and wake him up when his unruly curls tickle your nose.

if you try to push him away, expect him to get grouchy and mumble. even if he is fully asleep, this man will know. there is no escape from the world’s softest metalhead.

he’s also got this habit of holding your breasts as he sleeps. there’s just something about the warmth and the softness of them that he finds so comforting. bonus points for if he also gets to throw his leg over your hip, that way every single part of you is touching him.

eddie always has the best night’s sleep when you’re over at his trailer. as for your quality of sleep? maybe not so much, but you’d do anything to hear his soft little snores as he burrows his nose further into your neck.

This scene changed lives

you don't say

[bucky barnes x disabled!reader]

summary: you matched on a dating app, but you didn't tell him that you use a cane. bucky's response is not what you expected. it's better.

warnings: mention of smut, but mostly fluff and insecurity on both bucky and reader's part. autumnal vibes all around.

a/n: i became disabled in the last few years and i have really struggled with needing a cane to increase my mobility, especially where dating is concerned. i wrote this as a love letter to myself, and other babes who are processing what it means to accept love as a disabled human being. enjoy. <3

***

You didn’t tell him. 

If the last six were a good litmus, it was for the best. Apparently being that honest with a man you met on a dating app was to be avoided at all costs. The goal, ultimately, was to have him say: “You’re prettier in person,” and then flush like he was comparing the version of you in his head to the reality before him, and coming up wanting.

Bucky was his name. He hadn’t proposed anything rigorous–he liked coffee, as did you. It wasn’t like he suggested a Central Park marathon for your date.  You weren’t even sure how you matched; it probably happened when you left your phone unattended in the same room as Natasha–whose taste was much more varied than yours. Adventurous. It’s not that you wouldn’t have swiped in interest over Bucky, 39, Brooklyn. But not until he swiped first. 

That wasn’t entirely true. You remembered his face popping up as you doom-scrolled for Jesus, on a two day pajama pity-party bender. Consuming Norah Ephron films and cheap cabernet, you swiped right on any man with kind eyes who didn’t have a fish picture in his array. Which… the pickings were slim. But his face–Bucky’s–appeared beneath your thumb as Meg Ryan met Tom Hanks at the top of the Empire State Building on your third watch-through of ‘Sleepless in Seattle,’ and it felt serendipitous. Bucky, 39, Brooklyn looked very serious, and he had a white long-haired cat. You swiped. He swiped. He was nice in his first message…

Hi… I’m new to this, but it looks like we both hit the magic button.

So, there you were.

You arranged to meet at eleven–you were at the coffee shop by ten-thirty, so you could sit by the window and not have to walk towards him. You tucked yourself into the booth and stashed your things on the bench seat beside you, eager to meet the first guy who said yes to a date since you got back on the horse, so to speak. Nevermind that you hadn’t told him the whole truth.

When he walked in–ten minutes early–he scanned the little cafe until his eyes fell on you. His expression went from hardened and serious to… bashful, almost. He recognized you right away, and there was no way you could mistake him either. 

What was that thing about people being prettier in person? 

He was dressed in layers to combat Autumn in New York (comfortable in varying shades of blue and brown) with leather gloves on, which shone like they hadn’t yet been worn before that day. So like a native New Yorker to wear the same tattered coat… but quality, definitely an expensive peacoat which could last him several generations… but buy brand new gloves when the slightest chill sets in.

Bucky was scruffy, like he couldn’t quite bother to shave but every few days. You didn’t mind. When he approached, he had vibrant energy, like it was all packed up inside with nerves.

“Hi. Sorry. I think we had the same idea,” he said breathlessly as he approached. He held out his right hand to you. You grasped his fingers automatically, but he didn’t shake. He squeezed softly, and then pressed it between his own. 

“It’s Bucky. I’ve already had coffee. Too much. I was nervous. But if you still want some, I’ll just get decaf.” 

“Y/n. To be honest, I did the same,” you chuckled, nodding to the half-empty carafe on the table, which your waiter had left after the third refill in twenty minutes. “It’s nice to meet in person.”

“I don’t do this kinda thing, I gotta warn you.” Bucky shucked off his coat and slid into the booth across from you. The gloves remained. He had a loved but noble corduroy blazer on, over a henley. “Dating. I hate the whole conceit.”

“You’re two-for-two!” You grinned. “My roommate got me on the apps. They can be blamed for seventy-five percent of my daily dread.”

“What’s the other quarter?”

“Global warming, and getting shat on by pigeons coming out of the subway.”

“Fair,” he said, smiling. You dimpled at one another. “We don’t have to stay. We’re caffeinated, and I might start levitating, here. We could walk a bit?”

Your stomach lurched. “We could. Where?”

“Dunno. I’m sorry–I have no idea how to be out. We should just sit here for the requisite number of minutes before upsetting the structure of a date.” He smiled at you pleasantly, but it was clear how incredibly nervous he still was… and how unlikely it was to go away unless he could be more active. Which meant standing. Walking, some. Something which you were not prepared to do.

Bucky watched your expression shift. He sat forward and reached out to touch your forearm. “You okay?”

“So. Yes, um. Yes, I’m okay,” you sighed. “It’s still new for me so I’m figuring it out, but… walking long distances? Can’t do it. I could probably handle a short walk, but I’ve had a rough time the last week, so I don’t know how much stamina I have. Even with my trusted friend, here. So.” You showed the head of your cane above the table bashfully, and looked away. “Sorry–people get weird about this stuff, I’m finding out, so I don’t really say anything in advance.”

Bucky blinked for a moment, then he leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table. “What do you mean weird?” His blue eyes narrowed.

“Suddenly unmatch. Tell me ‘it’s such a shame.’” You huffed. “Although it’s guys, on the whole. Women care less. But that’s beside the point–”

“Because of that?” He pointed at the seat beside you, where all of your belongings were stashed, and you knew what he meant. You nodded.

“I don’t say it in so many words. I’m not like–hey, just fyi, I use a cane, so deal with it or fuck off–”

“Why not? That would be a good way to separate out the weak and worthless,” Bucky said, but you could’ve sworn you heard a little touch of anger in his tone. He shook his head. “Doll… shit. Men are shit.”

“Yeah. They are. Sorry.”

“No, I’m shit, too. You can’t insult me when it’s true.” Bucky sat back against the worn cushion. “So, we going? Or are you going to talk me into an espresso to see if I can fly?”

“Sure. If you want to. I’m just slow–”

“Nonsense.” Bucky scooted out of the booth. “I grew up in this neighborhood. There’s plenty to do. And see.” He paused. “If this is insulting, just tell me to fuck off… You can lean on me.” He held out his elbow like an offering.

You could have cried. “Um. Okay.”

“Yeah? I–I would’ve offered, regardless. I like talking to you. I’ve enjoyed myself… through the phone.” Bucky scratched his cheek in embarrassment. “So. Even if you didn’t share, I probably would’ve tried to find a reason.”

“Really, I’ve just given you an excuse,” you said, tamping down a smile. He nodded solemnly.

“It’s thoughtful of you to spare me.” Bucky raised his eyebrows, waiting. The waiter breezed by, just then–

“You can pay at the front register!” the beleaguered hipster sighed, gesturing to the counter at which there was an extensive line. Bucky grabbed his elbow and fished a bill out of his pocket, slapping it in the guy’s palm. The waiter stared down at the twenty in his hand. “Great. I’m a human cash register.”

“Keep the change,” Bucky said. He turned back to you. “Do you get motion sick?”

“No?” You were clearly holding up whatever grand plans he was making in his head, so you hastily grabbed your things. Bucky liberated your coat from your hands and held it open. You stood slowly, leaning on the aid which had given you newfound freedom. Bucky smiled at you softly. He wasn’t impatient, just… excited. You slid your arms into your coat with Bucky’s help, and then curled your fingers into his elbow. His cheeks reddened. He had a boyishness to him which was endearing. 

“This okay?”

Okay? Well. If you considered the wafting warmth of sandalwood cologne and the soft weave of his woolen peacoat okay, then you were dandy. You nodded, feeling your own cheeks flush under his attentive gaze.

“Great. I have an idea, if you’re game. So.” He cleared his throat, ushering you through the front door of the shop onto the sidewalk. “Where do you stand on surprises?”

“Um. Hate ‘em, to be honest.”

“How bad?”

“Flash mob? My idea of hell.”

“K–In that case, I’m gonna call a friend, he runs a ride service. There’s a festival in bridge park–I keep seeing fliers for it all over. We could check it out.”

You couldn’t help the smile which pulled at your cheeks. If that’s the sort of surprise Bucky had in mind, you would’ve been charmed by it. But knowing how quickly his brain was working to improvise a date was impressive, so you squeezed his elbow. 

“Sounds fun.”

“Good. Okay.” His mouth turned up at the corner and his eyes crinkled. 

He quickly dialed a number he had memorized, but not saved in his contacts. It made you wonder how many other people he knew by heart, and what it took to be remembered by this Brooklyn boy. He didn’t say much into the phone, just the intersection you stood on. Bucky hung up abruptly and pocketed his phone again, clearly intent on hiding it away.

“He’s two streets over, it’ll be five minutes max.”

He was a horse-and-buggy driver, who had festooned his buggy with bales of hay and pumpkins bearing hastily Sharpie’d faces drawn on them by someone under the age of ten. When the carriage pulled up outside of the chain coffee shop, Bucky grinned, passing the coachman a tenner and ushering you into the four-wheeled hayride. The straw was strewn over the plush seating poorly enough to poke you in the ass, even through your coat, but Bucky was so excited to pull the plaid wool blanket over your legs that you tolerated the gluteal acupuncture. He stashed your cane beside himself, and pressed you close enough that your thigh pressed against his. 

“I went to school with Pat,” he explained, gesturing to the driver who was too far away to engage in conversation, but kept throwing back knowing glances at you and Bucky. “Kindergarten through the twelfth grade.”

“You really are in your neighborhood.”

“Yeah.” He blushed. “Never did get out, like I thought I would. Not complaining though. There’s a lot to love about Brooklyn.”

Bucky encouraged you to wrap your arm through the loop of his elbow again, and pointed out things to you about Brooklyn which had defied your notice prior. Brickwork at the pinnacle of a building, dating back to the 1920’s. A man dressed like a bush who stood on the street corner, blocking the walk button so no pedestrian could disturb his meditation. The fire hydrant he broke the bolt off senior year, flooding the sewer drains and causing rats to rush down the gutters like a parade of hissing floats. Halloween decorations in windows. Scarecrows mounted to telephone poles like they guarded a field of yellow taxis with as much aplomb as a treasury of corn stalks.

All the while… he distracted you. Little touches on your wrist where your coat met your skin with his soft gloves left you curling your fingers around air, and still he persisted. You studied his profile when he was distracted. With stubble and expression lines, he had character. He wasn’t stoic like you had thought him. Every inkling which crossed his brain was projected on his forehead like a drive-in feature just for you. And he kept smiling at you. 

You arrived at Brooklyn Bridge park having spent an eternity and no time at all in a horse-drawn carriage positively burdened with loose hay, but the tents and balloons and various sizes of gourds distracted you from anything but the Autumnal joy of it all. Stalls lined the park in a makeshift walkway, which smelled of pie spices and syrup, and crisping ham on a rotisserie, and campfire. 

When he helped you down from the carriage, placing your cane at your dominant side, Bucky instantly seemed to have a plan. Time passed like you were observing through a looking glass. He ushered a cup of cider into your hands, and then adios’d the empty into the garbage once you finished it. You dominated the hammer game, winning a massive plush gorilla. Which you promptly gave away to the first screaming child you saw, to Bucky’s amusement. He fed you funnel cake while you picked out your choice for the fastest piglet in a race which consisted of five piglets running around a kiddie pool. You lost–everyone did, when the piglets abandoned course to lay in the tepid water and snort bubbles at one another–but you left a lingering dusting of powdered sugar behind at the corner of your mouth. Bucky wiped it away without a second thought.

And so the date continued, with you floating beside a man whose eyes sparkled with delight every time you found joy in something. It didn’t feel like you had only met that day. You reached for his hand to express delight. He curled his fingers over your shoulder to wish you luck in the ring toss. Bucky–Barnes was his last name, you learned–was some kind of familiar fixture. He even bought you a coffee, and then brutally beat a group of sixth-graders at bobbing-for-apples.

It wasn’t until the sun tucked itself behind the rooftops that you realized dusk approached. Without needing to ask, Bucky summoned a cab. You had leaned on him heavily the second half of the afternoon, and opted to sit every opportunity you got. Yet… Bucky’s excitement never diminished. It wasn’t until you sat on the top step of your stoop that you realized it.

That was the best date you had ever been on.

And you sure as hell didn’t want it to end. The stars were out in force–as clear a night as you had ever seen in the city of light pollution, and yet… Orion’s belt… the pan handle of a Dipper… stars shone for you.

Bucky shoved his hands into his coat pockets in acknowledgement of the drop in temperature, while he balanced one foot up a step from you. He studied you through honest eyes–that is, he looked at you like he saw who you were without pretense. Which felt very vulnerable.

“Repeat the question,” you breathed.

Bucky smiled. “You date much?”

You shook your head. “No. To be honest, I don’t usually feel like it’s worth it. Putting myself out there. I’m sorry–I know it sounds like I’m wallowing in self-pity, but, uh. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. Being turned down. Because I use a stupid piece of metal to walk.”

“You could spend a lot of time feeling sorry for yourself, doll. And–that’s not to say you don’t have the goddamn right to feel some type of way about it. It’s your body, it’s not how you pictured your life going. Of course you’re gonna be sore about it. You aren’t alone in that. I’m just sayin’... Anybody who’d lose out on a chance with you because of something as insignificant as a tube of aluminum ain’t the type of person you wanna waste your time with anyhow.”

“It’s weird. I don’t disagree with what you’re saying, but. I dunno. It’s hard to think people exist who aren’t gonna be weird about a freakin’ cane.”

Bucky crossed his arms. “Fuck’em. Waste of your time.”

“What about you? Are you a time-waster?”

“Worse. I’m a Brooklyn boy. We can wait out a stubborn dame with the best of ‘em.” Bucky braced himself on the railing. “Can I take you out again?”

“You’re gonna sit on my porch until I agree to a second date?”

“I–when you say it like that, I sound like a creep,” he chuckled. “No, I just… if you had a good time, and I really hope you did, I would like to treat you to another date. I took a wild guess on the festival idea, but I can think of a million other things. More than just coffee.”

“I was holding a coffee mug in my profile photo,” you laughed. “That was enough.”

“There’s more out there.”

“I had a good time.”

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

You watched his face turn from excitement to pure glee. His body angled towards you intensely. All his energy was directed towards you. It made your skin tingle, and all good sense fled from your mind.

“Just come in, Bucky.”

“You gotta say it, or I ain’t budging. This is all up to you, doll.”

“Yes, okay?” You leaned against the doorway with an exasperated sigh. “I had a great time. You’re adorable, and exhausting, and I’ve never had more fun on a first date. Or any date, for that matter. Please–come inside. Kiss me a little. I think you’re probably good at it.”

“It’s been awhile,” he admitted quietly, though he pushed off the railing to do as you bid him.

“Good. I don’t like it so formal–”

“You’re so cute.”

“I’m not–”

“No, it isn’t up for debate.” Bucky tucked a finger under your chin so you’d look up at him, given that your attention had fallen to the laces of his boots in embarrassment. His irises flicked back and forth, mapping every refraction in your eyes. “I know cute when I see her. And there’s nobody else in this whole damned city but you, doll.”

He kissed you as if that were true… as if he had stepped out of the subway to a world devoid of anything but a billion scattered golden leaves tracing circles on the pavement, and a girl with a cane who hates surprises. As if–in that dystopian and autumnal universe, that were heaven to him. Like he’d been looking for you in every empty coffee shop. Like he knew you, and it was only a matter of walking into the right store. It was soft, the drag of his lips over yours. At first he just ghosted a millimeter from your mouth, but then he needed to know… so he gave in. He didn’t spoil it with tongue too soon. Bucky discovered you.

You’d been kissed, but never at the world’s end. The world you knew was siphoned away. In this one? Well, kisses stopped time. Made leaves hang in the air between gasping breaths. Kisses were where the light got in. Where sun broke through clouds… where a girl who didn’t much care for vulnerability let a man she barely knew steal every little sound from her throat, out on her front stoop where anybody could see them.

You got the door open by feel, and stayed on your feet by virtue of the man with roving hands who backed you into the building. It was for the best that your apartment was on the first floor, because your knees threatened to buckle when his tongue worried the seam of your lips. He tucked the crook of your cane into the curve of his elbow when you tore yourself away to fight the finicky lock at your threshold. 

“I didn’t expect to have anyone over,” you said by way of an explanation for whatever mess might be found inside, but Bucky snorted.

“When are you gonna get it through your head?” He nipped at the tendon which helped form the curve from your shoulder to neck, making you shiver. “I don’t give a shit if all you got is a mattress on the floor. I like you.”

“I have a bit more furniture than that,” you giggled, “but I still appreciate you saying it.”

The moment you were inside the apartment, Bucky leaned back against the door and turned you, so you stood between his feet. He looked at you through heavily-lidded eyes. “Tell me.”

You turned your attention to the buttons on his coat as he saw right through you. “Bucky–”

“I think you like kissing me, but you’re skittish. If you’re freaked out…”

“I’m–shit.” You sighed. “I believe you. That you like me, I do. But I am so used to feeling like nobody is ever gonna want me back–”

“Impossible.” He cupped your cheeks. “Look at you.”

“Bucky,” you groaned. 

“No, stop it. I know what you’re doing. Oldest trick in my book. You think that a good thing is a lie, that it ain’t gonna hang around. I’m a really, really, really bad liar. Alright? My ears turn red.” Bucky smiled triumphantly when you chuckled. “I watched you drink a pumpkin latte today like it was the best thing you’ve ever had in your whole damn life and it cost me three dollars. You’re charming. I’m addicted.”

He kissed your forehead and you melted into his chest in resignation. “I don’t do this,” you mumbled into his sweater.

“What? Let somebody say why they like you?”

You shook your head, and pressed your cheek against his chest. “I’m starving.”

“Oh–doll, dammit, I should’a fed you–”

“No. I mean, yes, we should order something,” you laughed, “but. Just. Why?” When you raised your hand, gesturing to your general being, Bucky’s expression transformed from concern to… something gentle. 

He shrugged, but his shoulders fell heavily downward, and his fingers curled into the pockets of your coat so you wouldn’t pull away while he found the words. 

“Because–I just knew. You were simply a notification in a stupid app and I still thought about your profile picture waiting in my ‘likes’ for days. And we talked like it was an everyday occurrence, feeling your world shift its axis. I didn’t talk to a single soul on that app but you, sweets, and I tried my damndest not to jump the gun on asking you to meet in person. Imagine my delight when you agreed. I was so terrified last night that I hardly slept, but I never thought once about feeling… self conscious, all day. It–I don’t feel that way with most girls. Safe, I guess. And I may not know what the hell I’m doing, but I’m not a guy who ever feels like I can trust a person and I’m pretty prepared to lay down naked in the street if you tell me that’s what you want–”

“Not necessary,” you said, smiling. 

“Well, that’s a relief.” Bucky brushed his thumbs over your cheeks. “Doll–I’m so sorry that anybody ever made you feel like you got some kinda worth to live up to. It makes me so angry, but then I think–who’s that for? What’s the point in me being angry at somebody who isn’t gonna change their mind… especially when it means that I get a chance.”

“Says the handsome guy with perfect teeth.” You winked at him when he scowled.

“I’m tryin’ here–”

“You’re wonderful,” you whispered. You smoothed over his bottom lip with the pads of your thumbs. “I’m… thank you.”

Bucky leaned forward until his forehead pressed against yours. “I’ve overwhelmed you.”

“No, sir. I just need a second. To acclimate to the idea.”

“I can go–”

“Please. Please don’t.” You tugged him towards the living room, slowly walking backwards and giving him every opportunity to wrench out of your grasp and run. But he didn’t break eye contact, no. Bucky kept pace with you, toe-to-toe. “We’ll watch something.”

“Spooky movie?” he suggested.

“...I’m such a wimp,” you admitted, and he let out a quick breath.

“You can hide under my arm during the scary parts.”

“So just bury myself under you the whole movie, got it–”

“If that’s what you want, doll.” Bucky smirked as your knees bumped into the lip of the couch, causing you to sit abruptly against the cushions. You still had a fist wrapped in the placate of his coat, so he fell forward, catching himself on the arm rest and hovering over you. You watched intently as his tongue whetted his bottom lip absent-mindedly, and you had to bite back a groan.

“That’s what I want. Bucky.”

***

A long time later, when your body was so sensitive that you shivered beneath him, Bucky hopped up… pantsless, still wearing his sweater, but peachy ass exposed to the air so he could run to the bathroom and find a soft cloth. When he returned to you (with a towel around his waist, suddenly bashful), he bore a damp washcloth in his left hand, which… you sat up slowly on your elbows to watch the reticulated fingers on his left hand as he cleaned you with soft strokes over your thighs and bit his lip… asshole. You smiled at him softly when his eyes flicked up to yours. 

“You gonna tell me about it, or wait for me to ask?” you murmured, sliding the cuff of his left sleeve up his bicep, exposing a charcoal and gold metallic limb to the dim light. 

Bucky didn’t say anything at first. He lifted you beneath the knees, and behind your back. He had no choice but to shower with you (since you woefully lacked a bathtub), as cleaning you both was clearly his priority, so he sat you on the edge of the porcelain counter to help you fully undress. He did so with a type of reverence which felt undue… but you were reminded that he didn’t look at you through the same lens with which you viewed yourself. Especially when he trailed his fingers over your softness like he didn’t feel worthy of touching you. 

But then, he stepped back from you, and he shucked his sweater.

He didn’t look you in the eye once he was fully exposed to you. He studied the tiles under your toes, and his hands didn’t seem to know whether to rest on his hips or try to hide his flesh from you, so he fidgeted. Which meant he didn’t see you reaching for his left hand, and when you did so (threading your fingers through his metal facsimiles), he looked like he might cry.

Bucky was an amputee. With a gleaming prosthetic extending from his clavicle to the tips of his left fingers, so intricate and complicated a design that it must be something experimental and custom-made, just for the likes of a soft-hearted Brooklyn boy.

“You’re beautiful.” You meant the raw words, even though they escaped your lips unbidden. 

Bucky squeezed your hand. “I’m not.”

“You don’t have to agree for it to be true.”

He looked at you, then. An agreement passed between you, unvoiced. I’ll say about you what you can’t. I’ll hold for you what you won’t. I’ll touch you again, because I want you, all of you–the flesh and the metal and the weak and the kind. Especially the kind. Of course Bucky understood you. Your heart-wounds took different guises, but they pulled the same strings.

When he knelt at your knee, it was supplication. It was obvious when he bowed his head to kiss the skin above your heart. Your heart had known his forever, it seemed. 

“A long time ago, I didn’t have a choice,” he said, so quietly you could only make out his words because you had coaxed him up to meet your lips again. “I almost died. I–god, I never thought I’d live or touch somebody again. And then you. I can’t explain this to people–” He rolled his shoulder like the limb was hurting him, and maybe it was– “without inviting them to look at my naked fuckin’ heart.”

“Is it heavy?” You ran your finger the length of the connector, where metal met his skin and cupped his pectoral. You meant the arm, but the way his head bobbed… you inclined your head so you could catch his lips before his spirit fell one iota further. It was a kiss of knowing. Understanding, without words.

“I can take it off,” he breathed against your lips.

“So do it.”

Bucky sat back on his heels. Then, he looked you square in the eye and detached the prosthetic arm. It wheezed as it lost power, the moment its circuits no longer drew power from his body’s natural electric whims. You held out your hands, and he set the thing across your open palms. It was lighter than you expected, but still hefty. You could only imagine how it pulled at his muscles, unnatural as it was. It was incredible, but then–so was the man with an empty prosthetic socket, who sat at your feet like he hadn’t hastily fucked you on your own couch at the end of your first date. Like sex was a small exchange when there was a soul resonance at hand. If you said it out loud? It would sound insane. Holding Bucky’s cheeks in your hands, though… 

“I like sushi,” you said softly, “and any carbs, really. So. Jot that one down, for your date ideas. And I’m a fabulous co-pilot if you like road trips. I love Upstate. I excel at floating down a river on an innertube–”

Bucky pushed up between your knees so he could reach your lips and he kissed you senseless. “Doll–”

“Shhh, darling man,” you smiled against his mouth. “I am addicted.” Parroting his words back to him made Bucky beam. “Stay the night. Surprise me in the morning. I don’t care. You’re everything I didn’t think I deserved and–and I’ll keep you. To spite Me.”

Bucky laughed. “It will be a pleasure to help you get revenge on yourself.”

***

Thanks for reading! :)

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°•☆Heavenly Touch☆•°

♦️ Bucky Barnes x Reader ♦️

A/N: Just soft, fluffy blurb of Bucky in the tub getting his hair washed cause I’m in a sappy mood today 😔

Words: 650

Bucky Masterlist

☆☆☆

Few things in the world are as heavenly as your hands on his scalp, Bucky’s sure of it. Not food. Not sleep. Not se…Well, scratch that. 

Being inside you, all tight and warm around him is the best feeling in the world.

But your soft hands…massaging and pressing into his scalp, running through his brown locks with patience and care, it’s a definite close second.

It started simply. You offered to wash Bucky’s hair as it seemed so…greasy. And Bucky got a little embarrassed, because he forgot. He always forgets little things that people do and it’s a good thing you’re there to remind him, to ground him. With you, becoming Bucky Barnes again, finding Bucky Barnes, or at least the shattered pieces scattered through his psyche, feels easier. 

As Bucky slumps backwards in the tub, his thick muscles clench and unclench. Tension melts from his limbs beneath your soft touch. He basks in the tender press of your fingers and his mouth parts, long lashes fluttering closed. A low, sultry hum, veering on erotic, escapes his throat. 

"Guess I’m really hitting your sweet spot, huh?" you tease, pulling Bucky from his trance. 

There’s a rosy hue to his cheeks as he bashfully replies, wet chestnut locks hanging in his face, "Sorry…"

You wrap your arms around his neck and drop a gentle kiss on his broad shoulder. 

"Hey, no need to be embarrassed," you whisper. "I’m glad I can make you feel good."

Bucky sinks into silence. It’s not unusual, when he gets into one of his moods. But there’s a wrinkle in his brow that makes you inquire.

You caress his stubbled jaw. 

"Is there something on your mind?" 

He swallows a deep breath, his blue eyes dimming, shadows engulfing them. 

"I was never touched like that…back there," he whispers, almost too quietly for you to hear. 

You give a slow nod.

He doesn’t need to elaborate his meaning for you to understand he’s talking about Hydra and his time as the Winter Soldier. 

Bucky’s lips tremble as his eyes get glassy. Your stomach knots at the sight. He struggles to get the rest of the words out, his voice breaking. 

"Either I wasn’t touched or…touched in a bad way."

Your insides wrench. He never talks about it. The air in the bathroom is heavier, more stifling as Bucky’s gaze gets lost. For a minute, you lose him, to awful memories, to pain and loss. It’s all written on his face. 

Your chest is hollow as you helplessly watch him go through this. 

Your hands roam over his shoulders as you rest your chin in the crook of his neck. 

"I wish I could say something to make it better."

His big, warm hands cover yours, drawing circles into your wrists, reveling in that simple touch. There’s not a minute together Bucky doesn’t marvel and linger in touching you, smelling you, soaking in your essence.

Like he wants to remember you with just his hands, carve your memory deep in his skin, so it can never be taken.

"You don’t have to," he rasps, brushing his lips against the back of your hands, eyes falling shut. "This…makes everything better." A peaceful lilt courses through his tone. "You make everything better, doll."

Butterflies dance in your belly with his words.

Before you can respond, Bucky suddenly rises from inside the tub. Droplets glisten off his naked, muscular frame, dripping to the floor as he climbs out of the tub. 

A stunned shriek tumbles out of you when he picks you up and swoops you in his arms, careful not to squeeze you too tight with his metal arm.

"Bucky, what are you doing?" you gasp, your gaze widening. 

He sends you a crooked grin that makes your chest flutter. 

"You made me feel better. It’s only fair I make you feel better too, doll," he purrs suggestively, striding to your bedroom with confidence.

Crawl home to her

Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced!reader

Summary - Bucky's nightmares never seem to stop, and he despises himself for dragging you down with him.

Word count - 1.7k

Warnings - Angst, descriptions of torture, descriptions of seizures, PTSD, mentions of blood, sad fluff at the end.

A/N - Reader does have powers in this fic which aren't really explained but hopefully they're easy to understand, I kind of imagine them to be similar to Wanda's in certain aspects. Also, apologies if my writing is kinda wordy in this, I kinda went off on one and couldn't stop. Enjoy :)

The title is based off a lyric from work song by hozier.

__________________________

It was like something carved from a horror movie.

The giant, hulking figure emerging from the chamber, the surrounding air clouded with vapor so cold it burned to the touch.

His face was concealed, a black mask and goggles hiding the human features beneath, with silver, reflective metal taking the place of his left arm, gleaming in the yellow overhead lights. He looked solely like something built for destruction.

The soldier was put in the chair before he could even comprehend that he was awake.

They had strapped his wrists to metal, encasing his head in a familiar contraption and his mouth was forced open by rough hands on his jaw, rubber shoved between his teeth.

He was vaguely aware of the routine. Everything was familiar in a way that made his skin crawl and his hair stand on end, but for all he knew, there was no reason to be scared, soldiers don't feel fear, and emotion only gets in the way of the mission.

He could barely taste the bitterness of the rubber before he heard the whir of a machine begin, and he was so mind-numbingly cold that he could almost barely feel the electricity suddenly tearing through his skull.

He didn't scream, he barely moved, and it would be easy to wonder if he could even feel it, or if pain was just another thing that Hydra took from him, just to strip him even further of his humanity, but he felt every second, his body just too in shock to react, convulsing in his restrains.

The agony seemed to last hours, pain so intense that he could barely breathe, but the machine eventually came to a slow halt, the rubber taken from his mouth, and the soldier heaved his first full breath in what felt like years, the cold air filling his lungs too fast and ripping back through his oesophagus in painful coughs.

Once the coughing had ended, he let his head fall back against the leather beneath him.

His veins were on fire, crawling in his skin as icy heat travelled up his forearm and carved its way through his neck, residing in his temples with a throbbing headache. His jaw ached, as did every single muscle in his body and when he rolled his eyes open, he found that the bright lights surrounding him kept him blind to the people standing in the room, crowding around the soldier writhing and twitching in the chair as if he was some kind of circus monkey to be watched for their amusement.

He managed to unclench his fists and release his jaw, feeling his body go lax for a few seconds before he felt a spike in his heart rate, his muscles tensing against his will as his eyes rolled back.

Then he was gone, unaware of the stares of the doctors writing on their notepads when he began seizing for the first time this session. None of them stepped forward, not a single medic attempted to check on the soldier, or wipe the blood that spilled from his lips when his teeth clamped down onto his tongue.

He was only given a few seconds of refuge after the seizure had ended, before he was torn away again, his body taken with another, and another, and another. It was endless.

His chest spasming with every gasping breath, every muscle in his body clenched painfully. He wasn't present enough to see a man in a white coat move closer to him, positioning the headpiece over his face again and this time not even bothering with the mouthguard before the electricity returned, and his brain caught fire again.

This time, he screamed until the sound died in his throat and his vocal cords refused to make any more noise. A vague image of a man with blonde hair, standing straight with a shield pulled to his chest, flashed behind his eyes, and a part of him felt relieved at the sight, as if the man in his memories could somehow save him from this living hell, but the thought disappeared before he could even acknowledge it, and this time, when the machine finally stopped, he passed out before he could feel the after affects, pulled under when his body and mind could no longer handle the agony, deciding to just completely shut down instead.

______________________

You woke with a start, Bucky's harrowing scream beside you as you sat up so fast your head spun, and you stretched out an arm into the darkness, searching for the table lamp to your right and wasting no time in turning it on, bathing your bedroom in warm light.

Crawling onto your knees, tears were already forming wet tracks down your cheeks as your lover cried out in his sleep, his eyes darting back and forth rapidly behind his eyelids, hair stuck to his forehead, bare chest glistening with a sheen of sweat as he heaved for breath.

You reached for him and pressed your hand against his forehead, no hesitation as your eyes glowed unnaturally in the dim light, forcing Bucky awake with your ability.

There was no way you'd let him sleep through that one, no matter what his therapist demands.

Bucky's eyes tore open as he gasped for air, staring up at the ceiling with wide, unblinking eyes.

"Bucky?" You asked quietly, not wanting to risk startling him further as your hand hovered over his shaking form.

He looked at you, relief flashing in his eyes before he eyed the tears dripping down your chin and his mind clouded with guilt.

It was too often that you found yourself falling into Bucky's dreams. And no matter how many times you tried to convince him that it wasn't his fault, he'd never believe you, he knew better, and he knew how your powers worked.

He pulled himself up, resting his back against the headboard and letting his eyes fall shut for a moment, listening to your racing heartbeat with the saddest look on his face. He then opened his eyes, a tear of his own falling down his cheek as he looked at you and parted his lips with a shaky breath, "I did it again, didn't I?"

His voice sounded broken, shot from all the screaming he had done before, it broke your heart and you leapt forward, wrapping your arms around him and letting him hold you tightly, clutching you to his frame as he cried, repeating over and over how sorry he was.

You stroked his hair affectionately as you both cried.

"It's okay Buck, it's not your fault."

He was so distraught by his nightmares, that he was reaching out for you in his sleep, pulling you from your own mind and trapping you into his, forcing you to witness the horrific things that Bucky endured, or the things that he did.

Each time it happened, he blamed himself, despising the fact that he was forcing you to live his trauma, but you would never stop reminding him that it was okay, you'd seen much worse, and he would always be worth it.

Sometimes a deep-rooted, selfish part of him would be glad for your abilities, he doesn't have to explain to you the horrors he had faced in his past, you'd seen them for yourself, lived his darkest moments through his own eyes, but then the guilt would creep in, washing away the thoughts every time he woke up trembling with fear, and you'd be there beside him, shaking just the same.

He apologised to you again as the tears came to a slow stop, his face still buried in the crook of your neck, shivering against you when your fingers dragged softly across his spine, soothing him just the way you always did.

You pulled back this time, hand reaching for his jaw when he refused to look at you, tilting his head for his eyes to meet yours, and your face was serious as you spoke.

"You have nothing to apologise for, James. I want to help. If I couldn't handle this, love, I wouldn't be here, but I love you, and I want to stay." You assured him, your gaze flicking between his eyes, urging him to believe you, to stop carrying this guilt he had no reason to carry.

"I just- You don't need to see any of that." He whispered back, eyes red and bloodshot, breath shaky.

You smiled softly at him, your right hand sliding to the back of his neck, as you pushed his head down to yours, resting your forehead against his, noses brushing together, a simple action so intense and intimate that Bucky gulped, his eyebrows tightly furrowed.

"I'm okay, Bucky, I promise you, I'm okay," Your warm breath fanned against his lips as you spoke, and his eyes fluttered shut, "I just want to take care of you."

A shaky breath fell from his lips, cursing the tears that threatened to return at such simple words, but fuck if they didn't hit him hard.

He couldn't remember a time when someone had wanted to take care of him, not since he was a young boy, before his father died, before he had to step up to take care of his mother and sisters, working illegal shifts at the local factory at the age of 15.

But you wanted to take care of him.

He leaned forward and locked his lips with yours, his hands reaching out to pull you closer and closer in hopes that you'd eventually sink into his chest, finally close enough that his constant need for your touch would be satiated.

He broke away to speak against your lips, so magnetised to your kiss that he couldn't possibly pull back far enough to breathe air that wasn't your own, "Thank you."

°•☆So tasteful☆•°

♦️ Mob! Bucky Barnes x Chef! Reader ♦️

Your baked treats are suspiciously good and it attracts the mob boss’ attention.

CW: fluff, humor, obsession, meet cute, smitten Bucky, grumpy Bucky

Words: 750

A/N: Engagement is so low these days, I might not bother writing more, but I still really liked this idea, so here we go with this drabble ^^

Bucky Barnes masterlist || Part 2

Bucky hates these meetings.

When he took over the organization, he didn't think there'd be so many pleasantries involved. 

While he knows some degree of diplomacy is required, he expected a lot less talking and a lot more killing. That at least, he can't mess up. It is second nature, after all. When the handle of a blade fills his palm, he truly feels home. 

But this… 

It makes the killer in him antsy, restless. What he'd trade for a good, old-fashioned hunt. A worthy chase. He misses it, the thrill that coursed through him whenever he cornered a target. The fear shining in their eyes, the realization there would be no tomorrow…

The prospect makes his blood sing. 

He listens intently to Danny’s report, twirling the glass of brown liquor in his hand. 

"We found out who the mole was." Bucky perks up, his attention fully drawn. Each of his men does the same, their faces tight. The sting of betrayal permeates the air, clogging the room even more than the lingering clouds of smoke. There’s been a rat in their ranks for too long. He's been feeding information to the FBI for weeks, ruining deliveries, delaying shipments. 

Bucky’s mouth twists in contempt as pictures are tossed on the low wooden table brimming with manila folders and half-empty glasses of alcohol.

He takes in the face of the traitor. 

Rumlow. He knows he should have erased every trace of the old organization, but the bastard did good work and never asked too many questions. Turns out it’s because he was too busy running his damn mouth.

"What should we do about it, boss?" Danny asks. 

"Bring him to me. I’ll deal with him myself," he replies without hesitation, emptying his glass to its dregs before clenching his jaw. 

But the unhinged train of Bucky’s murderous thoughts is halted when his gaze lifts to one of his henchman, Leo, humming loud enough for him to hear.

"What are you doing?"

The boy freezes. Dark crumbs line his mouth as he looks at his boss with wide eyes.

A nervous stutter spills from his mouth.

"Just…eating a brownie, sir."

Bucky squints at Leo, a deep scowl scrunching his features.

He slaps the brownie out of the boy’s hand who watches it fall to the floor with a dejected expression.

"Eating a brownie, huh? What do you think this is? The neighborhood bake sale?"

Another subtle moan rises to his left and Bucky’s gaze narrows to yet another one of his henchmen indulging in the sweet delights. 

His voice trembles as he points at the plate of brownies.

"They are really good, sir. You should try one."

"I should-" 

Bucky scoffs, disbelief fluttering through him as he notices how many of the brownies have already been eaten. 

"Whatever. I swear to god if you don’t s-"

The mobster’s irate rant is halted when a brownie is shoved into his mouth by a henchman. Bucky frowns at the audacity, ready to end the meeting and commit murder on the spot, but…then the taste melts on his tongue, sweet and subtle. Heavenly. The scowl on his face eases as anger dissipates. 

"Who baked these?"

"The new chef, sir."

His frown returns. 

"New chef? What happened to the old chef?"

"He was…disposed of when we realized he was lacing the food with poison."

"Disposed of?"

The henchman who spoke shifts awkwardly in his chair.

"You slit his throat, sir."

Bucky nods as slow remembrance sneaks inside his mind. He’s not sure how that memory escaped him. The man screamed a lot. It left quite an impression.

"Right, I forgot that."

The meeting resumes but Bucky’s mind is elsewhere. It’s not often he’s comforted by something as trivial as baked goods. This is uncanny; he needs to inquire more about this new chef.

Their intentions should be gauged anyway. Who knows? Maybe they too, will need their throat slit. 

He’d never slit your throat. Bucky’s sure of that. 

When the mob boss entered the kitchen, his intentions were clear. Interrogate or intimidate, most likely both. But when he gets a glimpse of your angelic face, wrinkled in focus while you cover a cake in chocolate frosting, Bucky feels like he’s being stabbed right through the heart. Over and over again. He could have collapsed right here and then. 

And when you lift your head to smile at him - the most gorgeous smile he’s ever seen - Bucky knows he’s fucking lost. 

Instantly, he knows, he needs to have you, no matter what it takes.

I do not have a taglist anymore. Follow and turn up notifs for my sideblog @straytales to know when I post something new.

in the eyes of a stranger, there lies a mystery in the eyes of a stranger, are you what you appear to be?

CHRIS EVANS by Naomi Kaltman 2007

these two keep getting gayer and gayer with each other. that’s it, that’s the post.

#Robbed

for your consideration- he

Nothing makes me more weak in the knees than shy reader being intimidated by eddie but he's always so sweet to her and nice but he's also a little shit so he's always making little comments to towards her to see her reaction. Also giving her pet names and playing with her hair while she's focusing on homework etc.

OMFG I LOVE THIS!!! Enjoy head cannon type thingy 😆

🖤Lady Hellfire🖤

Eddie got partnered with you for a class assignment and was totally thrilled,

He'd watched you from afar and knew how shy you were, so when he approached you after class he was doing his best not startle you. Unfortunately it didn't work, when he walked up behind you at your locker and excitedly greeted you, you jumped.

"Shit sweetheart I'm so sorry, I thought you saw me in your little mirror" he says, pointing to the mirror hanging in your locker.

"Eddie" you started, body shrinking into itself with nerves. " 's okay" you finish, face flushed.

Spent every moment he could that night getting you to blush because it was the absolute cutest thing he'd ever seen.

Every time he called you sweetheart he saw your face flush darker.

Decided at that moment to start driving you to school

Would carry your bag, even though you very quietly protested every time

In the week that passed he spent every moment he could with you, project related or not.

He very publicly asked you on a date.

Typical Eddie fashion, got up on the table in the cafeteria and yelled the words at you as you were walking over.

He watched your cheeks go bright red as you tried to hide your face in your hand and he giggled to himself.

Walked over to you and put his arm around you. You were quietly giggling as he led you to his table and offered you the seat next to him

"So is that a yes sweetheart?" He whispers in your ear he pulled out your chair.

Your too embarrassed to say anything so you just nod, which makes Eddie smile.

"SHE SAID YES EVERYONE!" He would yell as he pulled out his own chair to sit. Causing you to groan and lightly slap him in the arm

When he asked you to be his girlfriend you almost fainted in his arms.

Would buy you lots of little gifts, knowing your face would light up and flush. He loved hearing you quietly protest his need to spoil you, knowing he was just going to continue doing it anyway

Would constantly boast about you to his friends while you were right there.

You would get all embarrassed and shy and would bury your head in his chest or arm, and he fucking LOVED it.

He would tease you a lot, but ultimately Eddie was just super sweet and affectionate towards you, and he loved you to pieces.

STRANGER THINGS Season 4 Bloopers | Netflix

bloopers vs the final scene.

JOSEPH QUINN  as  eddie munson  in stranger things season four.

Joseph Quinn attends the Christian Dior Womenswear Spring/Summer 2023 show at Paris Fashion Week

Hiii I literally love you and your writing especially your Eddie writing!!! Anywaysss, could I request a shy!reader where they and Eddie are dating but they kinda kept it on the down low but reader was having a bad day and was being all clingy and like everyone found out and the hellfire club was just like 😮

hi i love u ty for ur request! hope this okay ♥️ shy!fem!reader | 1k words

You know you shouldn’t go to his club. It’s not fair of you. Hellfire is one of his sacred nerd rituals. As soon as he sees you like this he’ll put it on pause, and you also know – one of the only things you do know about Dungeons and Dragons — that stopping in the middle of a game interrupts the flow.

Still. You’re feeling a little selfish and a lot strung out. Today has sucked and all you’ve done is wish he was there to make you feel better, so you walk down the hallway to the club room and stand at the door, trying to summon the courage to open it.

On the other side, Mike Wheeler catches a flash of your clothes through the small glass panel and frowns. He jabs Dustin Henderson hard in the side, earning a, “What the fuck, dude?” that Mike quickly shushes.

“There’s a girl outside,” he says.

Girls are… uncommon, at Hellfire.

Dustin leans forward to look around Mike’s torso and forgets to whisper. “Is she crying?”

Eddie looks up, annoyed at being interrupted by the newbies and about to delve into a speech on respecting your dungeon master when his gaze slides past them. He spots your torso, your hands pulled up to your chest, and he knows it’s you. From the curve of your arm alone.

He’s half standing when you knock.

The rest of the group gawp as he stands. Usually, Eddie would either ignore whoever it is or have someone else answer, and his sudden willingness is downright shocking.

He cracks the door open. He’s barely had time to take in your tear stained cheeks when you’re whispering apologies. “I’m really sorry,” you say quickly, pulling the sleeves of your soft cardigan down over your hands. “I needed to see you.”

“What happened?” he asks, trying for hushed like you but missing the mark.

Mike and Dustin make incredulous faces at each other, eyes squinted in confusion.

“Who the fuck is that?” Mike asks.

Lucas Sinclair grins from across the table. “Who do you think?”

“You know her?” Dustin questions. He sounds pissed to have been kept out of the loop.

“Nope,” Lucas says, elbows sliding over the crinkling paper of his character sheet as he pulls in his chair. “I’ve never seen her before in my life. But that’s definitely his girlfriend.”

A handful of laughs from around the table. “Yeah, right,” Gareth says.

Lucas leans in even closer, practically conspiratorial as he points to Eddie’s dirty-white sneakers. “Look, see how close they’re standing?” When nobody looks convinced, Lucas glares. “I know what I’m talking about!”

He really does. The toes of your shoes are a hair's-width from Eddie’s, face to the ground as you scrub your wet cheeks. Telling him about your bad day has made it somehow feel better and worse, and your breathing comes shallow.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “I know you’re playing your- um, your game.”

Eddie glances over his shoulder. The large majority of the group whip their faces back to their sheets, caught. He shoots a scowl at them all, though any annoyance slips away when he turns back to you. You look so sad.

Eddie doesn’t really think about it. He steps out into the hall and lets the door close behind him, arms wrapping around you placatingly. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s been a really shitty day,” you say hoarsely.

“I know,” he murmurs, rubbing your back. Your shoulders tremble under his palm. “You should’ve found me earlier.”

“I didn’t want to ruin your game.”

“You haven’t. They’re on break,” he promises.

It’s a total lie but he couldn't care less about the campaign, not when you’ve come unraveled. You nod into his chest and worm your shaking hand around his waist, squeezing so tightly it aches. His head tucks over yours like it was made to and he wills some stillness into you, perturbed by your shuddering. He hates when you get like this. You're so wound up you can’t calm yourself down.

Inside the club room, there’s a riot of whispering, some quieter than others.

Lucas sits back in his chair smugly. “Dude, you have a girlfriend. You shouldn’t be so surprised,” he says to Mike.

Mike peers through the glass door with a mild disgust. “Me and my girlfriend don’t do that.”

“That is not true.”

“We don’t-“

“No, they really don’t,” Dustin agrees. “They’re too busy trying to swallow each other.

Anyone who’d been listening starts to laugh, worse when Mike’s cheeks flare red and he flips them all the bird. The laughter quickly dies when the door opens and Eddie returns, his sad maybe-girlfriend trailing behind him.

“Someone get a chair for Y/N,” is all he says.

You look like you might burst into flames on the spot. Everyone’s eyes are on you. You hate it.

“Thank you,” you say, though you aren’t sure who you’re thanking as somebody passes you a chair. Eddie sits back in his ‘throne’ and you sit beside him, cheeks dry but eyes still red and face downtrodden.

Eddie leans back and rolls his eyes at the silence. “She’s my assistant for today's session,” he says concisely, before any of them think they have the right to ask.

Eddie can’t hold your hand and you don’t think you could survive it in front of so many people, but when the game starts back up and everyone is distracted he pushes his foot behind your calf and pulls your leg toward him. There’s a smile on his face as he orchestrates the next dungeon, his pen scratching down notes you don’t understand.

He rips a page from his notebook and passes it to you covertly.

You take it and let it lie against your thighs. When you read it, you struggle to suppress a giddy smile.

Prettiest assistant ever. Think she'll let me take her out tonight?

He likes his chances.