A/N: Hello hello! My classes have switched over to a lighter load until the end of the year so maybe I’ll be able to post more soon! For those of you that aren’t into this story- fear not! I’m gonna get working on some oneshots for Steve or maybe Chris Evans. In the meantime, you can check out my masterlist here or this series masterlist here. Please feel free to ask for a tag here.
The next morning, you woke up before Josh so you quickly got into the shower. Peggy had texted you the night before with the details of your outing so you knew you had some time to get ready. You slipped into your chosen casual outfit for the day and you ventured out of the bathroom.
Josh was sitting on the bed, back propped against the headboard, smiling down at his phone.
“Hey, I’m going out with the girls for a bit and we’re probably gonna eat lunch while we’re out. And then we’re going to all go to that bonfire so I’ll text you when I’m on my way to get you?” you asked him gently.
“Oh right,” he said, not looking up from his phone. “I was thinking I’d stay here tonight and skip the bonfire. I’ve got some work to finish up.”
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC I Word Count: 5212 Warnings: Fluff, Bucky being Bucky, smexy
This chapter brought to you care of @diinofayce through Coffee Updates. Thanks for your support, hun!
Bucky shuddered gently against Penny, while his mind whirled with her revelation. “You have to tell Steve.”
“I can’t. Not just yet.”
"Penelope Grace,” he growled against her neck.
“Bucky. Not just yet. I’ll tell him when I’ve gone through all the options, but until that time, how can I place more stress on him? He’s off saving the world. He doesn’t need to be thinking about me while he’s doing it.”
"Penny…” Bucky sighed and looked at her, but gave up when she gave him the stubborn face.
"I’m not giving up, Buck. I won’t. I promise, but I have to do this my way.”
"Stubborn as a mule,” Bucky grumbled, tugging her close so he could rest his cheek on the top of Penny’s head.
"Ma’am? Sorry to interrupt,” Friday said into the silence. "The detective is back, and he brought friends.”
Bucky growled a second time against Penny, far more feral and angrier than before. "What kind of friends?”
Summary: James Buchanan Barnes is the youngest Senator in New York. He was born and raised in Brooklyn, he’s down to earth, and is deeply in love with his wife; Y/N Barnes. His dreams consist of having kids, helping find a cure for cancer and AIDS in his lifetime, and one day, sitting at a desk in the Oval Office. It’s good to go after your dreams, right? Not if you’ve got one hell of a secret. Word Count: 1,870 Warnings: Language, heavy angst, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of blood and gore, not for the light-hearted. Author’s Note: GIF Credit [X]
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
Steve stormed into Bucky’s office and slammed his hand down on the desk, leaving behind a piece of paper. “Is this your idea of a fucking joke?” he seethed, nostrils flaring, shoulders twitching.
“It’s good to see you, too, Steve,” Bucky scoffed.
Wanda ran into the room, apologizing profusely. “I’m sorry, Senator. I couldn’t stop him.”
Bucky gave her a soft smile. “It’s okay, Ms. Maximoff. Please close the door behind you.”
“Yes, sir,” she sighed wearily.
Once the door was closed, Bucky turned his gaze to his former best friend. “Where were we?”
“You were going to explain to me how that,” he thrust his finger at the paper, “found its way to Aisling’s headstone!”
Bucky picked up the note with an annoyed huff. Happy Anniversary was written in beautiful, flowy, cursive lettering. He flipped it over and looked at the back, but there wasn’t anything there, not that he expected there to be.
“I don’t know anything about it, Steve,” he announced.
“Bullshit,” Steve grit out through his teeth. “It’s been twenty-one years since she died, Buck.”
Bucky’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. “You think I’ve forgotten? Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her, man. I’m really sorry ab-”
“Save your meaningless apology. Did you write that?” he demanded to know.
“Absolutely not,” Bucky denied, thrusting the sheet of paper at Steve. “Why on earth would I do something like that?”
One of Steve’s shoulders bobbed up and down. “Maybe crazy runs in the family.”
“I’m nothing like him,” the senator growled. “He was certifiable.”
“Explain that then.” Steve pointed to the note that was sitting precariously on the edge of the desk.
“I didn’t do it.”
Steve rolled his eyes dramatically. “Then it has to be him. He killed her, Buck. He killed my little sister.”
“Steve, he’s dead,” Bucky insisted. “It can’t possibly be him.”
“What if -”
“Maybe you got yourself a stalker, Steve,” Bucky interrupted angrily. “Some twisted psycho got attached to you during the campaign. I don’t fuckin’ know, man. It wasn’t me, and it sure as hell wasn’t my dead brother.”
Steve went to argue further, but Bucky slammed a button on his desk phone. “I need Thor.”
Three seconds later, the large blonde entered the room. “Senator,” he greeted his boss while glaring at Steve. “What seems to be the problem?”
Steve clenched his jaw painfully as he carefully weighed his options. “Thank you for taking the time to see me, Senator. I’ll see myself out.”
Thor only moved out of Steve’s way when Bucky nodded his head.
“Will there be anything else?” Thor asked his boss once Steve had left.
“No” Bucky answered. “Thank you.”
After Thor closed the door, Bucky grabbed the paper off the edge of his desk and stared hard at the writing. Who would do something like that? It was downright cruel and, even though he and Steve hadn’t been friends since they were teenagers, it made his blood boil.
“Wanda, I need you to clear my calendar for the rest of the day,” he instructed after picking up the phone.
“I can’t do that, Senator,” Wanda said meekly. “You have an important interview this afternoon, remember?”
“If you cancel it today, you won’t be able to meet with them for another six months,” she admitted.
Bucky’s head fell back as he groaned. “Fine. Clear everything else but that.” He didn’t wait for a confirmation before he hung up.
Even though it wasn’t yet eleven, Bucky poured himself a shot of whiskey. He swallowed it quickly, hissing at the trail it blazed down his throat and chest. He thought about another one, but decided against it, only because he absolutely adored the New York Space Alliance. The last thing he needed to do was show up drunk.
After dropping back into his chair, he fired up his laptop and did a search for the contact information of the asylum where his brother had died. He had no idea why he was even toying with the idea; calling the facility, asking them to confirm that yes, his brother had died twenty years ago, that there was no possible way they could have made a mistake.
Dannemora, just seeing the name of it on his screen made him anxious. Even as he reached for the phone and started dialing the number, he couldn’t believe he was doing it.
“This is stupid,” Bucky muttered to himself as the line rang.
“Clinton Correctional Facility,” someone said on the other line.
Bucky slammed the receiver down and shook his head. His brother was dead, his parents had said so, and Bucky had attended the closed-casket funeral. Whatever was happening to Steve had nothing do with the Barnes family. Nothing whatsoever.
That didn’t stop his mind from wandering around, exploring all kinds of asinine possibilities and scenarios. He was so lost in thought that he jumped when the phone buzzed.
“The car is waiting for you, Senator,” announced Wanda.
“Ye- yeah, thank you. I’ll be right out.” He gave himself a mental shake before leaving his office. He could do this. He just needed to concentrate.
Mornings were the perfect time to get out and enjoy the crisp air. So, you started out the day with a nice walk around the neighborhood, with Peter, of course. You never went anywhere without one of the bodyguards; hazard of being married to a senator.
You hadn’t expected to stay out so long, but by the time you realized what time it was, two hours had flown by, and you had worked up a sweat. When you got home, you headed upstairs to take a shower so you didn’t scare off the children in the hospital when you made a visit in a couple hours.
While washing your face, you heard a noise that didn’t belong. “Bucky, is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” he answered from the bedroom.
You wiped the water from your face and stuck your head out. “What are you doing back? Is everything okay?”
“I forgot something, is all,” he explained.
You gave a chuckle before disappearing into the stream of water to wash your hair. “Hey, you have that interview today with the Space Alliance. Are you excited?”
“Of course I am,” was his joyful answer. “You know how much I love space.”
“It always surprised me that you never pursued astronomy.”
“I wanted to.”
You watched through the opaque curtain as he came into the room and stood in front of the sink. “It would have been exciting.”
“A lot more exciting than where I’m at now,” he agreed. “Instead of doing it, I’m talking about it.”
You’d never heard Bucky talk like that. He loved being a senator, said he wouldn’t change a thing about his career if given the chance. “You feeling alright, love?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” he sighed. “I should head back to the office.”
“See you tonight,” you called out.
When he didn’t answer after several moments, you poked your head out of the shower. “Bucky? Are you there?”
Peter was in the room a split second later. “You okay, ma’am?”
“Yeah, I was just talking with Buck.”
“The senator isn’t here, ma’am,” Peter informed you, confusion furrowing his brows.
“He just left,” you scoffed. “You had to have seen him.”
The bodyguard shook his head. “No, ma’am. I haven’t seen him since he left early this morning.”
“Will you -” You didn’t get a chance to finish because Peter ground out a curse.
“Stay right there,” he ordered hoarsely, a gun appearing in his hand as he left the room.
Despite the warm water cascading down your body, a chill ran through you, the kind that made your teeth chatter. You turned up the temperature, but it did little to warm you completely.
After ten long minutes that felt like hours, Peter came back, the gun in its holster, assuring you that no one else was in the house. “The security system is on, ma’am, and nothing is out of order.”
“Did you call Bucky?”
“The first thing I did when I got out in the hall,” he said grimly. “But Wanda wouldn’t patch me through. Something about Steve being there.”
“Thank you. I, uh, I need to finish up in here. Could you wait outside of the bedroom please?” you asked, praying he couldn’t hear the way your voice was shaking.
“Yes, ma’am,” Peter confirmed.
The hot water started to grow tepid, so you quickly finished showering. While you got dressed and dried your hair, you ran over what had just happened. Part of you firmly believed that Bucky had been in the bathroom with you, holding a conversation, but then there was the part of you that heard Peter say that Bucky was in his office with Steve at that time. There was no way Bucky could have come home, talked with you, and made it back across town all in, what, a five minute window?
You emerged from the bedroom almost fifteen minutes later, and you knew you didn’t look like you were in the mood to go anywhere.
Peter looked down at you with worry flickering in his eyes. “You okay, ma’am?”
“Honestly?” you scoffed. “I don’t know. Are you sure Bucky wasn’t here?”
“Positive. Wanda said that Steve had been in the senator’s office for almost five minutes.” That wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but it was confirmation that you had to have imagined the whole thing.
Your sleep pattern had always been a little off, so to say that you didn’t have a conversation you could have sworn you had with someone wasn’t far from the truth. Granted, it hadn’t happened a whole lot, but it had happened.
“If you want to be there on time, we should go,” Peter said softly.
“I know,” you sighed, your eyes falling closed. If you kept them closed for too long, you’d fall asleep standing up. Another thing you’d somehow managed to do in your life.
With your eyes open, you blew out a heavy breath. “Right, let’s get going.”
It had been easier than he thought, planting the first seeds of doubt.
Leaving a note on Aisling’s headstone brought about the exact reaction he had hoped for; Steve storming off, rage boiling in his eyes. Of course he had gone straight to Bucky, searching for the truth; that the murderer was exacting his revenge.
Next was Y/N. Getting into the senator’s house was easier than it should have been, the security code too easy to guess; Y/N’s birthday. They should really get that changed, but not until after he was done tearing apart their lives. It was only fair after what Bucky had done to him.
He waited until Y/N and that idiot Quill to get into the towncar before emerging from his hiding place; a dark corner in the garage that Peter had literally walked past in his search for the intruder, the one that Y/N had sworn was her husband. It was almost comical to watch.
Summary: James Buchanan Barnes is the youngest Senator in New York. He was born and raised in Brooklyn, he’s down to earth, and is deeply in love with his wife; Y/N Barnes. His dreams consist of having kids, helping find a cure for cancer and AIDS in his lifetime, and one day, sitting at a desk in the Oval Office. It’s good to go after your dreams, right? Not if you’ve got one hell of a secret. Word Count: 1,634 Warnings: Language, heavy angst, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of blood and gore, not for the light-hearted. Author’s Note: GIF Credit [X]
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
It was late by the time Pietro, your driver, pulled the car up to the front door of you home. Thor – yes, that was his given name – one of your bodyguards made his way into the estate first, checking each room on the main floor before allowing you and your husband to enter the residence.
Peter Quill, the second bodyguard, came down several moments after the front door was closed. “Second floor is all clear, Senator, Mrs. Barnes.”
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Bucky crooned, clapping Thor on the shoulder and nodding at Peter.
Peter moved behind you and was offering to take your jacket.
“You’re not a maid, Mr. Quill,” you scoffed.
“I am not, ma’am,” he agreed with a smirk. “However, I was raised to be a complete and total gentleman.”
You rolled your eyes at the man behind you but slid out of your jacket nonetheless. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
Thor shrugged out of the black suit jacket and loosened his tie. “If there is nothing else, we will retire for the evening.”
“We have absolutely no plans to leave,” you huffed as soon as you stepped out of your heels.
The four of you bid goodnight to one another, then Peter was setting the alarm before he disappeared down the hall to his room, Thor close behind. Their rooms were across the hall from one another, tucked behind the kitchen, far enough away that you and Bucky had plenty of room to yourselves, but close enough to ‘do their job’ should such an occasion arise.
With your husband trailing close behind, you made your way into the kitchen. You’d had a bit too much wine at the fundraiser, and now you were dealing with a case of cottonmouth. Two glasses of water later, you were feeling much better.
Bucky, who was only slightly drunk, grabbed your hand and spun you until you were chest to chest, his hand splayed over the small of your back. “Finally, I’ve got you all to myself,” he purred, his pupils slowly consuming his sapphire irises.
You rested your hand on the back of his neck and scraped your nails through his thick hair, along his scalp. “Now that you’ve got me, what do you plan on doing about it?”
To answer your question, Bucky backed you up against the refrigerator and started kissing you; deep and probing. You could taste the whiskey and the bite of tobacco from a cigar he indulged in earlier that evening on his tongue. You pushed up to your toes and melted into your husband, your hands tangling in his hair, roaming the breadth of his shoulders, nails catching on the almost invisible seams of his suit jacket.
The back of Bucky’s fingers skimmed against your thighs, just under the hem of your dress, sending a wave of goosebumps along your flesh. He pushed his hand between your thighs, growling low in the back of his throat as he came into contact with your dampening panties.
“For me, baby girl?” he hummed between kisses.
Electricity sparked against every inch of your skin at the way he was moving his fingers against you, a thin piece of cotton acting as the only barrier. You hissed your answer, your head falling back, your neck extending, relishing in the way Bucky’s plush lips, tongue, and teeth explored the area.
By the time he worked the panties down your legs and pushed two fingers inside of your tight hole, you were a whimpering mess. Your legs were shaking and the breath was tearing in and out of you, making you dizzy with desire. Bucky sought out your clit with his thumb, working it in tight circles as his fingers continued their ministrations; crooking just right to make you see stars.
“That’s it, baby,” he purred, fucking you faster. “Cum all over my hand.”
You had been teetering right on the precipice, ready to dive off and fall apart at the seams. So, when his words vibrated against the pulse point in your neck, you had no choice but to let go. Every nerve ending sparked and your back arched off the wall as you squeezed his thrusting digits.
“Jesus, doll,” Bucky grit out. “Can’t wait to get my cock in you.” As if to prove his point, he started unbuckling his belt with one hand. He shoved down his pants and freed his cock all while your climax was thrumming through you.
One moment you were pressed to the fridge, whimpering and begging for more, and the next, Bucky had you bent over the counter, your ass in the air, and your legs spread.
“Oh, I’m going to give you more, baby girl.”
The darkness in his voice made your pussy clench in anticipation, and it must have been quite the sight for him, because he was groaning.
“Do it again,” Bucky directed you in the same tone.
You did it again, sighing happily as your release dripped down the inside of your thighs. The swipe of skin on skin made you aware that he was stroking himself, that he was more than enjoying what he was seeing.
“C’mon, baby,” you cooed, glancing over your shoulder. “I thought you said you were going to give me more.”
Bucky gave you a wicked smirk before bringing his hand down on your ass, spanking you. “Patience, Y/N. I’m gettin’ to it.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but all that came out was a grunt of surprise as Bucky entered you swiftly. In all the years you and Bucky had been together, you’d never felt his cock as hard as it was at that very moment. The large vein on the underside was pulsing heavily, sending small jolts or pleasure through your pussy.
Bucky gripped your hips and slowly pulled out until only the tip remained as he warned you to, “Hold onto somethin’.”
You had just gripped the edge of the counter when he slammed into you. He hadn’t been lying; he was going to give you exactly what you asked for and you couldn’t wait.
The man behind you swore crudely as he fucked you, the word drawn out and heavy sounding. He did it again and again, both hands on your hips for a minute before one of them slid up your spine and gripped your shoulder.
With every grunt-inducing thrust and every drag of his thick cock, you soared closer to another orgasm, until finally, you were shattering apart from the inside out. The air was stolen from your lungs as you tightened around Bucky, your walls pulsating, quivering, beckoning him to follow suit.
Bucky was close behind, his thrusts growing sloppy before finally spilling inside of you. “Shit, shit, shit,” he hissed at the way your walls continued to flutter, squeezing the sensitive head of his cock.
You continued to lay there, gasping for air, your eyes closed, and your legs shaking as Bucky pulled out. “I do- don’t think I ca- can make it up the sta- stairs,” you panted before licking your lips. “And I’m thi- thirsty.”
Bucky gave a gravelly chuckle as he tucked himself into his boxer briefs and fixed his pants. “Stay there, I’ll get you some water after I clean you up.”
A warm and damp paper towel cleaned up the mess between your legs and what had started pooling on the floor. Next, Bucky helped you stand and waited until you finished drinking before he picked you up, and carried you bridal style up the stairs.
You nestled into his neck and breathed him in. “I love you, Senator.”
“I love you, too, Mrs. Barnes.”
He hid in the tall shrubbery and watched through the large windows as Bucky fucked his wife, on the kitchen counter, of all places. Although, if the man were in Bucky’s place right then, he’d more than likely do the exact same thing. Y/N was stunning; it was no wonder Bucky asked her to marry him fresh out of college.
While he had been in the asylum, he had seen every single one of their outings. It didn’t matter if it was something as simple as attending a baseball game, or an event such as tonight had been; he made sure he could see it.
Watching Bucky was like studying for an exam that would make up seventy-five percent of the final grade. Only, there were no second chances, no extra credit work that could be handed in. This was real life. That meant impossible-to-make decisions and consequences for improper and inappropriate actions, and God, he couldn’t wait to see the look in Bucky’s eyes when the two men were finally face-to-face.
He wanted to immediately announce himself, dive through the glass and rise up, showing himself to the very man that should have saved him. They had promised each other when they were young that nothing, nothing would come between them, and for ten years, they each honored that promise, but he should have known it was too good to last. He should have known that the worst kind of betrayal came at the hands of his own family.
Lesson fucking learned.
The only silver lining to being locked away for the past twenty years was that he had plenty of time to come up with a plan, and it was fucking perfect. But, for it to remain perfect, he had to stay hidden until the time was right. He just had to wait until tomorrow before he could start enacting his revenge.
As Bucky carried his wife out of the kitchen and the lights were turned off, the peeping Tom shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.
“Get a good night sleep, brother. Because tomorrow your whole life is going to change.”
Summary: As a senior in college, you kept your nose clean and never partied. You were at the top of your class, set to graduate with honors summa cum laude; unlike Clint Barton. In an effort to get a passing grade and graduate, he asked for your help. What could possibly go wrong? Word Count: 2,424 Warnings: Language, fluff, possible smut, heavy angst [I’m sorry] Author’s Note: I shouldn’t be this excited about how much angst there is. Something is wrong with me. GIF Credit [X]
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
Tutoring Clint went slightly better than you had imagined it would.
True to his word, he was completely sober, not even a hint of a hangover showing in his eyes or voice. He brought his textbook, a notebook, and a pen. He even surprised you with a cup of your favorite coffee.
“How did you know?” you asked him in a surprised tone.
“I told you that I know you,” Clint chuckled, tapping your cup with his.
You gave a bemused smile. “You really don’t.”
He hummed in disagreement, but said nothing other than, “Where did you want to start?”
You pushed down the pang of annoyance, huffed out a breath through your nose, and took a seat across from Clint. “Might as well start at the beginning.”
Four hours and a pulsing headache behind your eyes later, you and Clint walked out of the library.
“You wanna get something to eat?” Clint wondered, books tucked under one arm, holding the door open.
That sounded like a good idea, it really did, but you knew that if you didn’t get home and take something, the headache would quickly spiral out of control.
“Thank you for the offer, Clint,” you started to politely decline. “I’ve got a killer headache, and I just want to lie down.”
“Are you okay?”
Even though you shook your head, you said, “I get migraines quite a bit. I’ll be okay.”
Clint’s hand was on your elbow, steadying you. “I can walk with you, if you like.”
“No, Clint,” you snapped. “I can get home on my own.” You weren’t mad at him, you just really wanted to get home.
“Fine,” he huffed. “Don’t say I never tried to help.”
He spun around and started storming off, but it was as if a flash grenade went off behind your eyes. You cried out as you dropped to your knees, the bag strap falling out of your hand so you could clutch your head.
Clint was on his knees, asking you… something, but his voice was garbled, drowned out by the hum in your ears. He dug in your bag and quickly found your wallet. After shoving it, and his books in your bag, he threw the strap over his shoulder and gathered you in his arms.
Once Clint managed to get Y/N to take some tylenol and ibuprofen, followed by drinking a large glass of water, he put her in bed and set a cold compress over her eyes and forehead. He closed the blinds and turned on the ceiling fan before sneaking out of the room. With the door left open a crack, he dropped onto her couch with a heaving sigh. After the way Y/N dropped to her knees, crying out in pain, there was no way he was going to leave without knowing she was okay. He tugged out his phone and sent a text to his friends.
C: Sorry guys, can’t make it tonight. S: You okay? N: Tell me you’re not ditching us to study. C: I’m not ditching you to study. B: BULLSHIT! C: I’m not, Buck. Something came up, and I gotta take care of it. B: What could possibly come up on a fucking Sunday? N: It’s Y/N. You had a study session this morning. You’re ditching us for her. That’s fucking great, Clint. S: Stop it, guys. C: I’m not ditching you guys. Jesus, grow up. It is possible for you guys to go out without me. The world will not implode. B: I see what’s happening. C: Do tell, oh, wise one. B: You’re going soft. C: Shut up. N: Buck’s right. Y/N just started helping you and you’ve already changed so much. C: For real guys, shut up. S: Do what you need to do, Clint. They’ll be fine once they get over themselves. B: Zip it, goodie-goodie. N: Come on, Clint. We’ve had this night planned for months. Those tickets weren’t easy to get. C: So? Give mine to someone else. I’m sure that won’t be difficult for you. N: What the FUCK? You wanna do this now? C: God, no. I don’t ever wanna do ‘this’ with you again. N: Piss off. C: Whatever. Fact of the matter is, I ain’t going with you guys. Get over it. B: Fine. Just don’t come crying to us when you get bored with her. C: Fuck you.
Clint growled and turned off his phone, throwing it across the room a moment later. Thankfully, it landed on the plush chair instead of smashing into the wall. He raked a hand over his face and shook off the frustrations from the texts.
He pushed away all thoughts of the people he called his friends, selfish assholes that they were, and started worrying about Y/N once again. He had never seen someone go down like that before, and honestly, it had scared him. Though Y/N was always smiling whenever he saw her, he couldn’t help but wonder if she got migraines that bad often. And if she did, how on God’s green earth was she still alive? Because if Clint had to experience what she had just gone through, he was sure it’d kill him.
Still wired from the event, Clint shoved himself off the couch and started wandering around the room. He said he had known Y/N; from the clothes she wore, to what she did on the weekends, and down to the kind of coffee she drank. But he hadn’t realized how much there was left to find out.
Take her family, for instance. She talked about her dad quite a bit, but it turned out, her dad was the only other one in any of the pictures decorating the walls and bookshelf. No mother, no siblings, no grandparents, aunts, or uncles. There were no family gatherings or vacations to another state, no road trips or nights out with her cousins. It was just her and her father.
Then there was her taste in music. Clint had her pegged for a soft rock kind of gal; Coldplay, James Blunt, The Eagles, Fleetwood Mac. Nope, not the case. Y/N liked rock music from the eighties; Metallica, Guns N’ Roses, Def Leppard, AC/DC, and Queen. So much so, that there were three rows packed with vinyls, and there were more stacked off to the side.
“Learn something new every day,” he mumbled, a smirk on his lips.
After thoroughly looking through the records, Clint picked out a Metallica album and started playing it. Clint then hauled himself off the floor and headed into the kitchen in search of something to drink. When he opened the fridge, he groaned in disappointment. Instead of having a stereotypical college student’s fridge – leftover pizza, cans of beer, some random tupperware container that had started growing mold – Y/N’s fridge was full.
Of healthy food.
Every kind of fruit and vegetable Clint could name – and a few he couldn’t – lined the shelves, along with ready to prepare proteins. Her freezer wasn’t any better. There were bags of pre-prepared meals, the name and date in black marker. Things like butternut squash apple soup, mediterranean quinoa burgers, broccoli parmesan meatballs, kale roasted pepper, and feta egg muffins.
Shaking his head, he closed the doors and grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filling it up with cool tap water a moment later. Thankfully, there had been some ice cubes in the freezer, which he dropped in, spilling some water on the counter. He wiped up the mess and grabbed his phone from the couch as he walked past, turning it on long enough to make one phone call.
“Quill’s pizza,” answered Gamora.
“Hey Gam,” Clint chuckled.
“Your usual?” she laughed as she waited to punch in his order.
Making sure to be careful, Clint slid off his shoes and set his feet on the table. “The only thing that’s changed is the address.”
“Where you at this time?”
“Y/N Coulson’s,” he admitted.
“No fuckin’ way. How’d you weasel your way in there?”
“Helped her get home,” Clint sighed wearily. “She got hit hard with a migraine.”
“Aren’t you a knight in shining armor?” Gamora snorted.
Clint tsk’d his friend. “Just make sure my pie is hot,” he joked before hanging up.
When Clint leaned further back into the couch, he looked over at a picture he hadn’t seen on his previous trek through. It was of Y/N, senior year of high school, and God, it took his breath away.
She was walking through a field of flowers, every color imaginable surrounding her, wearing a simple blouse with dark blue shorts, and no shoes. Her long hair was braided loosely and pulled over her shoulder, exposing her skin thanks in part due to the scoop neck shirt. The sun was shining down on her, bright and warm, causing her to close her eyes as she turned back toward the camera, a wide smile on her lips.
It was at that very moment, when his heart lurched in his chest and his mouth went completely dry, Clint knew he was in trouble.
It was your bladder that woke you. Only when you dug yourself out of the blankets and the ice pack fell onto the floor did you remember what had happened.
Four hours of tutoring Clint led to a headache which quickly escalated into a migraine. Shit, it had been a while since you had one that stole your vision. It was still there, pulsing heavily behind your eyes, but at least you could navigate through your dark room.
You shuffled into the bathroom and, without the lights on and the door firmly closed, emptied your bladder. You washed your hands before filling a glass with water and took one of the migraine pills the doctor had prescribed you. It was bitter and stuck to the back of your tongue, but you finally managed to get it down a moment later.
Food was next on the agenda. You didn’t know what time it was, but your stomach was protesting loudly to the lack of food you were giving it. When you opened the bathroom door, you caught a whiff of something that didn’t belong; pizza.
Despite the pain in your head, your heart hammered as you went on high alert. You crept down the hall and grew more confused as the sounds of Metallica reached your ears, along with someone humming. It was clear that you weren’t alone in your apartment, and you really wished you had located your cell phone before leaving your bedroom.
After the unknown visitor pushed off your couch, the humming grew closer, so you went into defensive mode. You kicked your leg out and tripped them, sending an empty plate clattering on the floor, quickly followed by the intruder. They landed on their knees with a groan, which made it easier for you to take them down. Only when your knees were on their biceps and you were straddling their chest did you realize who it was.
“Oh, shit,” you grumbled, embarrassment chasing the adrenaline through your system. “Clint.”
“Hi,” he huffed, an eyebrow arched in unamusement. “You, uh, gonna let me go?”
You blinked heavily a handful of times before you registered what he had said. You blamed it on the fact that it had been over two years since you had gotten laid. Huh, you had forgotten how amazing it felt to have a man between your legs.
“What? I mean, yeah, yeah,” you muttered as you scrambled off of him. You grabbed the plate off the floor and hurried into the kitchen, setting the plate in the sink.
“Thanks,” he said after he was standing upright. He adjusted his shirt before looking at you, his emerald orbs drilling into yours. ‘Hey, how’s the head?”
“It’s attached,” you answered. “How did you -”
“You don’t remember?” Clint was crossing the room and standing on the other side of the counter, his head tilted to the side.
You shook your head as you tried digging through the jumbled mess your brain was currently in. “We left the library and…,” you shrugged your shoulders.
“I asked if you wanted to grab a bite to eat, but you said you had a headache, that you wanted to get home” he explained. “And then, in the blink of eye, you dropped down and grabbed your head. I uh, I went through your bag, found your ID, and brought you home.”
“How’d I get into bed?”
“Me,” he answered coyly. “I mean, I got you to drink some water and take some excedrin before helping you into bed. I wasn’t sure what else to do.”
It had been so long since you’ve had someone take care of you, someone that wasn’t a parent, someone that didn’t feel like they had to, that you didn’t know what to say except, “Thank you, Clint.”
He let out a huffing laugh, thankful that he wasn’t in any kind of trouble. “You’re welcome.”
“That doesn’t explain why there’s delivery pizza,” you teased, pointing to the box between you.
“Look,” he started and rounded the counter. “I was going to see if you had something, but all I found was this rabbit food.” He opened the fridge with a grand gesture, one that made you snort in laughter.
“What? I like my fruits and veggies,” you said, defending yourself.
Clint was trying really hard not to smile. “It’s rabbit food, Y/N,” he repeated himself.
“There’s steak in there,” you pointed out as you marched over to the fridge.
“What, where?” he gasped before bending over and actually taking his time to look through the food.
You pushed yourself up onto the counter and watched for almost a minute before instructing him to, “Open the bottom right drawer.”
When he did, he gave a grunting cheer. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
“I mean, I’d share, but you already ate,” you couldn’t help but say.
Clint closed the fridge and faced you. “I’m twenty-two. It takes more than a pizza to satisfy my hunger.”
At his words, electricity shot down your spine and settled right between your legs. “You do- don’t say.”
The pizza box was pushed into the garbage and the steaks took its place. “You’re lucky you got a migraine today.”
“Why is that?” you asked breathily from your perch, watching as he made himself at home.
“Because I’m gonna cook you one hell of a steak,” Clint announced with a wink.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC | Word Count: 6649 Warnings: language, angst, dark themes – discussion of sexual assault
Penny was in the middle of washing the dishes after dinner when the house phone rang. She exchanged a look with Bucky, knowing it would be security announcing a visitor. If it were Steve, he would just come up, and no one else was scheduled to visit.
At least tonight she’d gotten the chance to eat the spaghetti before being interrupted. They’d managed to have an enjoyable dinner in which they’d discussed a few of her projects in greater detail without snapping, snarling, or yelling at each other.
She was pleasantly full. In fact, she’d eaten more today than she usually did in three days. Barnes was obsessed with stuffing food in her face and with cutting back her caffeine intake. She’d reached for her fifth cup of coffee when they’d returned from the lab, only to be handed a cup of tea instead. As she’d been on the phone with the Head of Oncology at Johns Hopkins, she hadn’t the ability to bitch Barnes out, ending up drinking the surprisingly tasty tea.
By six he’d been dragging her to her feet, refusing to let her stay longer her first day back, and hustled her out the door, down the elevator, and into the car even as she protested she still had work to do. He’d ignored her, and by the time they got to the parking garage beneath her apartment, Penny had been dozing off in the back seat.
Penny woke up warm and rested. Her body was soft, lax, and she felt better than she had in months. When the quiet snore came from the chest beneath her ear, she smiled. It wasn’t the first time she’d cuddle up on Steve, but when she lifted her head, it wasn’t her clean shaven blond brother whose body she’d been resting against, but a scruffy-faced brunette.
The night before came flooding back and caused her heart to kick once hard before she closed her eyes and fought down the wave of angry nausea. The attack, Marcus, what she’d revealed to Bucky, all of it made her feel weak and tired, two things she couldn’t afford right now.
“Hey, dollface.”
She opened her eyes to peer at Bucky, a smile curling his lips.
His fingers lightly stroked the length of her spine. “Sorry about crashing on your bed. Must have dozed off.”
“It’s fine, Buck. I slept better last night than I have in a while,” Penny murmured, pushing off his chest to sit up, finding she’d wrapped her leg over his thigh in the night and it was trapped now between them. It was a rather embarrassing position to be in considering she was practically straddling his leg, but when she made to pull away, he flexed his knees. “James?”
“It’s too early to be up,” he said softly, pressing against her spine to make her sink back against him. “Go back to sleep for a while.”
A/N: Hello hello! I really love this story so far and I hope you do too! Please let me know what you think! (the last chapter did NOT do well so please let’s chat!) You can find the series masterlist here and my main masterlist here. You can ask for a tag here! GIF is mine.
Pictures did not do the man in front of you justice. His blue eyes were shining, his shaggy brown hair looked a little more disheveled than usual and his arms seemed to be almost bursting out of his red Henley.
“Y/N,” he repeated slightly more confident.
You weren’t sure how to react, but Bucky decided for you, pulling you out of your seat and into a hug.
A/N: Okay things are finally happening. She’s home and Josh is acting like a putz. Let’s chat about this fic y’all! Send me an ask or message if you want a tag. You can find the series masterlist here and my main masterlist here. Ask me for a tag here. GIF is mine.
Sitting on the plane from New York to your small hometown, you started thinking about the past few weeks.
As you prepared to set off for the wedding, it seemed you and Josh had been fighting more frequently. He seemed to be in a poor mood ever since he had agreed to go to the wedding. You had offered him an out a few times, telling him it was fine if he wanted to stay back, but he grumbled something about keeping his word every time.
A/N: Ahh! Chapter one! I’m real nervous about keeping up with this and figuring out where to take it. Our boy Bucky is coming soon I promise! Please please please let me know what you think! This GIF was all I could think of. Send me an ask for a tag! You can find the series master list here and my main masterlist here.
The next few hours seemed to go by impossibly slowly. You had finished your writing assignment and you had spent some time looking at old pictures. Pictures of you, Steve and Bucky as kids and through your teenage years. The three of you had been practically inseparable. Until Bucky decided to leave. Shaking your head to dispel the unpleasant memory, you slammed the photo album shut and put it away. You heard keys in the door and tilted your head in the direction of the door when it opened. Your boyfriend, Josh, wandered into the living room where you were curled on the couch.
“Hey, did you get dinner started at all?”
“Well hello boyfriend, I’m great thanks for asking,” you replied sarcastically.
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