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JANUARY 3, 2020 — AVENGERS COMPOUND — RÉA

“It smells really good in here,” Bucky says as he walks into the kitchen. “What are you making?”

“I,” Sam says, “am teaching Réa my Titi’s gumbo recipe.”

“Your…your ‘Titi’?”

“My aunt,” Sam explains. “Now get away. This is super-top-secret. Shoo!” he says, waving his hand at Bucky.

I laugh, a loud, hang-my-head-back cackle. “I can’t believe you just ‘shooed’ him! That’s priceless!” I exclaim through my giggles.

Bucky and Sam both chuckle.

“Fine. I’ll go sit over there,” Bucky tips his head towards the kitchen table. “Is that far enough away for you, Sam?”

“I guess,” Sam replies with a grin.

Sam finishes talking me through his aunt’s recipe, whispering the steps as quietly as he can.

“And now we just add all of this back to the pot and let it simmer on low for forty-five minutes. We’ll put the shrimp in after that, and let it cook through.”

“No okra?” I ask.

“Nah. Even though that’s traditional, my Titi didn’t really like it…she used filé powder instead. But that goes in close to the end of cooking…the last ten minutes or so.”

With the gumbo simmering, and after starting the rice cooker, Sam and I head to the lounge; Bucky joins us.

“Hi, sweetheart,’ he says, placing a quick peck to my lips before settling onto the couch beside me.

The three of us fall into easy conversation; slowly, the others trickle into the kitchen and lounge, no doubt following the delectable aroma wafting through the air.

“It smells awesome in here!” Nat says. “Who cooked?”

“Réa and I did,” Sam tells her.

“Oh God, I need to go put on my stretchy pants…I’m going to eat so much!” she says and darts out of the room to soft chuckles from several of the others.

As always, dinner is a lively affair, filled with laughter, banter, and camaraderie. When everyone is finished, Bruce and Steve start on the dishes.

“We should watch a movie,” Wanda suggests.

The others murmur their assent; Bucky looks at me.

“You in?” he asks.

“I’m actually going to go upstairs…I’m working on a piece. I’ve been hearing snippets of it in my head all day, and I’d like to work on it. You go, enjoy hanging out with everyone,” I say with a smile.

He nods. “Alright.”

While everyone else heads to the cinema room—minus Tony and Pepper, who head to their suite with Morgan—I head to the music room.

I take a seat at the piano and start the recording, then let the melody that’s been rolling around in my head all day flow out of me. Once I’ve recorded it, I play back the track, transcribing the notes into my staff notebook, then playing through it again, adding harmony as I go. I continue this process, fine-tuning the piece at the piano, but it doesn’t feel quite right. I set down my pencil, then rise from the piano bench and move to take a seat by my harp.

I play the piece again, and this time it feels perfect. I play it through a few more times, making minor adjustments. My fingers glide over the strings, and the world fades as I get lost in the music. The feeling that I’m not alone pulls me back to the present, and I look up to see Bucky standing outside of the booth, watching me.

I smile softly as part of the memory from the first time he was in here floods my mind.

“And you’re not reading into things,” he says as he walks slowly towards me. “I did want to kiss you…I do want to kiss you.”

My eyes widen. “Y-you…you do?” I ask, stunned by his admission.

He cups my cheek with his right hand, his eyes moving between mine and my mouth. My breath hitches as he skims his thumb over my bottom lip, a spark of desire flickering to life in my belly.

“Yes, I do,” he says, his tone husky. “The question is, do you want to kiss me?”

I nod. “Yes,” I say, my voice breathy.

At my response, he slowly leans in, his hand still on my cheek and his gaze locked on mine. Suddenly, a frisson of self-doubt slithers into my gut, almost completely smothering the spark of desire, and I duck my head.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I, um, I don’t…I haven’t…and you…” I stammer, fidgeting with my fingers. “I’ve heard Steve say that you were a ladies’ man, and I…well…you were there for Truth or Dare. And you said you want to kiss me, but wouldn’t…wouldn’t you rather kiss someone who knows how?”

His hand slides from my cheek to my chin, tilting my head up to meet his gaze, before returning to where it was.

“No, Réa, I wouldn’t.” He pauses, inhaling deeply. “I want to kiss you.”

At his words, that spark of desire reignites, and my breath catches. My tongue involuntarily darts out to moisten my lips, and his eyes follow it. I see his pupils dilate, and he once again brushes his thumb over my bottom lip. He brings his vibranium hand up to my other cheek, gently cupping my face.

“Say the word, Réa, and I’ll stop,” he says as he leans in, his gaze searching mine.

My eyes drift shut, then I feel his lips on mine. As soon as our lips meet, something inside me screams ‘This one!’.

I stop the recording, and rise from my seat, making my way to Bucky. I pull his lips to mine, pouring all of the love I feel for him into the kiss. He kisses me back, his right hand cupping my cheek before sliding into my hair, his left hand skimming down my spine, settling on my lower back and pulling me against him. I feel his hardness against me, and I deepen the kiss, gently nipping his bottom lip before slipping my tongue into his mouth to tangle with his.

As we kiss, his hands move to the hem of my sweater and mine move to the hem of his shirt; our lips part just long enough for us to pull the material over each other’s heads. He crushes his lips back to mine and I reach for his belt buckle. I undo it, then unbutton and unzip his jeans, shoving the material down his muscular thighs. He presses kisses down my neck to the curve of my shoulder, scraping his teeth over my skin before he steps back. He finishes removing his jeans, kicking them aside before shedding his boxer briefs; while he does that, I quickly peel off my leggings and my underwear, adding them to the strewn-about clothes on the floor.

Bucky gathers me into his arms, his lips once more meeting mine as he lifts me. My legs wrap around him as he carries me towards the door; he presses my back against it and grinds against me, his thick length gliding against my core.

“You’re fucking dripping for me…God, doll, you’re soaked,” he growls.

I slide my right hand between us, wrapping my fingers around him and lining him up with my entrance.

“I want you,” I murmur.

“You have me,” he replies as he slowly presses into me.

Given that I’m pressed against the door, I expected hard and fast; his slow gentleness surprises me. The contrast between our position and the way he’s moving inside me sends a rush of heady pleasure through my veins.

“Te simți uimitor,” he says, his voice husky. (You feel amazing.)

He increases his pace, and soon his hips are slamming into mine, each stroke pushing me closer to the edge, but I want more.

“W-want to feel y-you. On t-top of me,” I pant, wanting to be underneath him; to feel his weight on me.

He manoeuvres us so that we’re on the floor, his weight pressing me into the carpet. I arch into him as much as I’m able, wanting him to be as close as possible. His right arm wraps beneath my neck and his left forearm settles beside me, bracketing me in. He presses kisses to the column of my throat and my collarbone as he repeatedly plunges into me; my hips tilt up to meet him, matching him thrust for thrust.

“Ești incredibilă…absolut incredibilă,” he groans into the curve of my neck. (You’re incredible…absolutely incredible.)

“Și tu ești,” I breathlessly reply. (So are you.)

His mouth returns to mine, and the kiss quickly turns into us just resting our foreheads together, our breaths mingling as he pants, and as gasps, sighs, and moans of his name tumble from my lips. My channel flutters around him; it only takes a few more thrusts for me to come apart, my walls squeezing his length as I soar into the stratosphere. I feel him follow me into bliss.

“Réa,” he groans as he spills inside me.

He slows but doesn’t stop, stilling only after he works us both through our climaxes. He lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine. We don’t speak, we just gaze at each other, still breathing heavily. Eventually, our breathing steadies, and he rolls off of me, but keeps his arms around me and his legs tangled with mine. His right hand cups my face, and I cover it with my left, holding it to my cheek. My right hand cups his chin, my thumb gliding over the dimple in the centre.

“I love you,” we say in unison, before smiling at each other.

We lie quietly for a while longer; eventually, the floor starts to get uncomfortable.

“This floor is not comfy.”

“Agreed,” Bucky softly chuckles.

“And my, um…my legs feel like wet noodles, and I like being like this with you, and don’t really want to move…so I’m going to just blink us to my bed. If that’s okay,” I say.

“Yeah, doll. That’s okay.”

I do just that, and Bucky and I both let out a happy sigh at the feeling of the comfortable mattress and soft covers beneath us.

“Much better than the floor…at least for the after,” he smirks.

“Agreed,” I nod.

He gives me a kiss then untangles his legs from mine, rising from the bed.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart. I’m going to run us a bath.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

I watch him pad into the en suite, then hear him opening the shower door, turning on the waterfall, and closing the drain in the pool; it doesn’t take long for him to return to me.

“Do your legs still feel like wet noodles?” he asks. “Y’know, it doesn’t matter. I’m carrying you anyway.”

He grins and scoops me up, holding me close as he carries me to the pool and settles us in the water. I move from my usual position—in his lap with my back against his chest—to sit so I’m facing him.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. I just want to be able to see you without having to contort,” I reply with a small smile, which he returns.

We soak until the water cools, then rinse off under the waterfall. We dry off, then Bucky once more scoops me up and carries me to the bedroom, setting me on the dresser. He pulls on a pair of charcoal-grey boxer briefs before grabbing one of his t-shirts and a pair of my underwear. He hands them to me and I pull them on while he folds back the covers and settles into the bed.

He opens his arms, holding them out to me, and I gladly settle between them, sighing in contentment as he holds me close. My left hand moves over his chest, my fingers tracing patterns on his skin. I look up at him; cupping his cheek with my left hand, I gently pull his lips to mine. Though the kiss is brief, it’s full of love, devotion, and tenderness.

“I love you, Bucky,” I say as I watch his eyes open and fix on mine. “Always and forever.”

“I love you, Réa. Always and forever.”

I settle under the covers, and, wrapped in Bucky’s arms, I drift off to sleep with a contented smile on my face.

There’s a click.

And then a voice.

“Sweetheart, it’s Bucky.” Nat breathes out shakily.

Your heart is beating so loud you barely hear a word.

Hospital.

Serious condition.

Coma.

A mission gone wrong.

The world tilts. 

You forget how to breathe.

No. No. No… Please God no…

You’re running before you realise what’s happening.

Your ears ring.

Your heart is in your throat.

Every footstep you take up to Bucky’s room vibrates through your body.

He’s on the bed—dried blood spread across his face.

There’s so much blood.

So many wires.

You collapse into the chair next to him, taking his hand.

“M’so sorry Bucky, so sorry. m’sorry I couldn’t get to you. Please don’t leave me Buck, please— I—” Your voice breaks off into a sob.

You plead silently, gripping his hand in yours, pressing it to your chest—to your heart, like maybe your love could be enough to bring him back.

Bucky please, you can't leave me, please stay here.

I— I never got to make you a birthday cake.

We never got to dance together.

I don't remember if you like honey or not and I need to ask you.

I don't remember what your voice sounds like when you cry.

“We don’t think he’s going to make it, he’s sustained too much injury to his brain.” The nurse’s voice reaches you like you’re underwater.

“Bucky, please, say something.”

His heart monitor slows.

The sound of it flatlining pierces through you—ringing through your ears until there’s nothing.

Silence.

“Say something…”

Your home was right in the open field, with nothing and no one around for miles except for green grass and trees, so when you heard what sounded like rocks being thrown at your window, you knew exactly who it was.

You didn't even have the energy get up to the window and yell at him to stop damaging your property, so you ignored him.

He threw a couple more rocks and when that didn't work your phone started ringing, the man was starting to get on your nerves.

He called out your name, you thought he almost sounded sad… "I know you're home, and I'm not leavin' doll, you're gon' have to come talk to me"

You covered your ears with a pillow and you smiled when his shouts drowned into muffled sounds. You had no intention of hearing him out, but then you heard the most god awful crack on your window, that was it. He ruined your sleep and now your window. "I'm going to fucking kill him" you growled as you opened the window which didn't break.

"Barnes you keep throwing those rocks I swear I'll send them right back in your face!"

"We have to talk" he demanded, as if he wasn't the lying bastard that broke your heart, "we got shit to talk about, jus' leave me alone!".

He considered leaving, you saw it in those gorgeous blue eyes, but then he got that determined crinkle in his brows that made you want to go get your shot gun. He ran to your front porch, you lost sight of him but you could hear him trying to come inside — Thank God your granny always taught you to lock your doors —

You furiously stormed down stairs in your night gown, not even caring he might notice you weren't wearing any underwear. When you opened the door you caught him off guard, so you pushed him back.

"What the hell is your problem?" you barked, just about done with his bullshit, pushing him again when his eyes looked hurt.

"I can't sleep I—" his voice broke when he spoke your name "The thought of- of not kissing you again, it makes me sick! I love you damn it" he finally cried, and you couldn't help but laugh "cry me a river".

You hated that deep down his words affected you, for a second the thought of wiping away his tears crossed your mind, but just as quickly you remembered how bitterly you cried into your hands on the bathroom of that bar, and then every night for god knows how long.

"Please sugar" he begged, his hands almost brave enough to come near you, but you snapped them away "shut the fuck up" you snarled.

"Why should I listen to you? I want you to leave me alone! why don't you get that?" now you were the one crying, a swirl of sadness and anger overwhelming you.

"I don't want to talk to you" you push.

"I don't want to see you" you push again, surprised he even budged, maybe he was too ashamed to even defend himself.

"After I let you in, you introduced me to your friends like I was a stranger, you stood there and said nothing when they laughed at me" your knees buckled but you refused to show him any more weakness.

"Now you say you love me, after you ruined everything, after you ruined m— you stop yourself before screaming your deepest shame, because you wouldn't give him that, he's the one that should be ashamed.

"I don't want to be with someone that judges me just for existing, I'm not some secret fetish you get to keep…"

The silence was horrible, as you catch your breath, he stood completely still, shirt unbuttoned and with his sleeves rolled up, the howling wind blew off his hat but he made no effort to grab it, his eyes never left you, moving from your eyes to your soft lips, a sign of what he wanted to do to you, when his arms caged you, his lips claimed you with ferocity, fingers digging into your flesh, you let yourself be his for a brief moment before you use all of your force to push him back "no! Get the fuck away from me" you wiped away his kiss.

Without another word, you turn your back to him and go back inside the house, slamming the door shut and quickly locking it.

“I’m not broken or anything,” you muttered, staring down at your hands, voice smaller than you meant it to be. “It’s just… it’s never been good.”

The words felt heavy once they were out, but you couldn’t stop now.

“My first boyfriend just—went for it. Like two minutes of nothing and then he just… shoved in. Said I was too dry, like it was my fault.” You huffed a quiet laugh that didn’t sound like humor at all. “The next one lasted maybe thirty seconds and then rolled over and started playing video games. I just… pretended to sleep.”

Steve’s hand stilled on your knee.

You kept going anyway.

“Another one kept asking if I was close every ten seconds until I faked it just to make him stop talking.” You shrugged, like it didn’t sting. “It always hurt. Or felt like nothing. Or just… like I was something to get through.”

Silence stretched for a beat.

Then Bucky let out a low, dangerous sound that rumbled through his chest.

“Doll,” he said, voice rough, edged with something protective and furious all at once, “those assholes didn’t deserve to touch you.”

Steve’s hand moved again, gentler now, grounding. His other hand came up to cup your cheek, turning your face toward him. His eyes were soft—softer than you’d ever seen them—but there was anger there too, quiet and controlled.

“You’re not broken,” he said firmly. “You’ve just never had anyone who cared enough to learn you.”

Your throat tightened.

“Let us show you,” he added, thumb brushing your lower lip. “No pressure. We stop the second you say the word. But if you want to know what it’s supposed to feel like…”

Bucky’s metal fingers traced slowly down your arm, sending a shiver in their wake.

“We’ll make it good, sweetheart,” he murmured. “So good you forget those idiots ever existed.”

Your heart was pounding hard enough you could feel it in your throat.

Part of you wanted to run.

The other part—the one that trusted them, that had been quietly aching for something more every time they kissed you like you were something precious—nodded.

“Okay.”

They didn’t rush.

Not even a little.

Steve kissed you first, slow and deep, his mouth warm and patient as he coaxed you open, letting you set the pace without ever making it feel like you had to. It wasn’t overwhelming—it was steady. Safe.

Behind you, Bucky’s lips found your neck, soft at first, then a little firmer when your breath hitched. He paid attention to every tiny reaction, like he was memorizing you.

Clothes came off gradually, piece by piece, like there was no finish line waiting, just the moment you were in.

Hands mapped your body like it mattered.

Like you mattered.

Bucky lifted you onto the couch like you weighed nothing, settling you back against Steve’s chest so you were cradled between them, surrounded.

“Tell us what feels good,” Steve murmured against your ear, his hands warm as they slid over your chest, cupping your breasts.

His thumbs brushed over your nipples and when they tightened under his touch, you gasped.

Neither of them missed it.

Bucky’s gaze flicked up to your face, watching, before he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your stomach.

“Yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself. “We’re gonna take our time with you.”

By the time he settled between your thighs, your skin was buzzing, anticipation coiling low in your stomach in a way that felt… new.

“Already wet for us,” he praised softly.

The words alone made heat flood your cheeks.

Then his tongue dragged slowly up your center.

Your hips jerked before you could stop them.

He did it again, firmer this time, circling your clit with careful precision, like he was figuring you out one reaction at a time.

Steve didn’t stop touching you—hands kneading gently, lips brushing your temple, your cheek, your jaw as he whispered soft encouragement that made your chest feel warm and full.

“Doing so good,” he murmured. “Just feel it. Let yourself feel it.”

Bucky’s fingers pressed at your entrance and when he slid them in, it wasn’t the sharp, uncomfortable stretch you expected.

It was…right.

Full, but not painful.

His fingers curled, just slightly, and something inside you sparked.

“Oh—”

Your fingers tangled in his hair instinctively, and he hummed, the vibration sending a jolt straight through you.

“That’s it,” Steve murmured. “He’s got you.”

The feeling built differently than anything you’d known before—slow, deep, coiling instead of rushed or awkward. It spread instead of staying sharp, turning into something warm and overwhelming.

“Bucky—Steve—I’m—”

“Come for us, doll,” Bucky growled, mouth closing around your clit.

You shattered.

The sound that left you didn’t feel like it belonged to you—raw and unfiltered as your body clenched and pulsed around his fingers.

It didn’t stop all at once, either. It rolled. Wave after wave until you were trembling. You’d never—never—had that before. They didn’t rush you after, either.

Bucky pressed soft kisses to your thigh while Steve eased you down onto your back, hovering just enough to meet your eyes.

“Still okay?” he asked gently.

You nodded, breathless.

“More.”

The word surprised even you.

But you meant it.

Steve entered you slowly, giving you time to adjust, his hand steady on your hip.

“Okay?” he asked again.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Yeah, it’s—good.”

His forehead dropped to yours, a soft exhale leaving him before he started to move, slow at first, like he was still checking in even without words.

Bucky leaned in, kissing you deep and messy, his hand sliding down between your bodies.

“Feel that?” he murmured. “That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

Steve’s rhythm picked up gradually, each movement controlled, deliberate, hitting that same spot Bucky had found earlier until your breath stuttered.

Bucky’s fingers found your clit again, circling just right.

The combination was overwhelming.

“Too much—” you gasped, even as your body arched into it.

Steve’s mouth curved faintly against your skin.

“Not enough,” he corrected softly. “Let go again.”

And you did.

The second orgasm hit harder, sharper, pulling a broken sound from your throat as your body tightened around him.

Steve groaned, low and wrecked, your name falling from his lips like something sacred.

By the time Bucky took his place, you were already trembling again.

He was rougher—but never careless.

Never thoughtless.

Every movement was still tuned to you, to your reactions, to the sounds you made when something hit just right.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, voice thick. “Taking us so well.”

Steve’s hands grounded you from beneath, his voice soft against your lips as Bucky drove deeper, the rhythm more intense now, the sounds louder, messier.

When your third orgasm hit, it was almost too much—your whole body tightening as Bucky followed you over the edge, his grip firm, his voice breaking on your name.

Afterward, everything softened again. Warm cloths. Gentle hands.

The two of them settled you between them under a blanket like you belonged there.

Because you did.

Bucky pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

Steve traced lazy circles along your thigh.

“So?” Bucky asked after a moment, a hint of a smirk in his voice. “Still think you don’t like sex?”

You let out a quiet laugh, body loose and warm in a way you’d never felt before.

“I like your sex,” you admitted, a little shy now.

A pause.

Then, softer—

“Can we… do that again sometime?”

Steve’s grin was immediate, bright and warm.

“Every damn day if you want.”

Bucky nuzzled into your neck, voice satisfied.

"Ladies, could I possibly have a moment alone with the bride?"

The deep voice was like a bucket of ice water as everyone slowly filtered out of the room.

Bucky Barnes, dressed in black tie as the invitation requested, shoved his hands in his pockets as he looked you up and down.

"Buck, you really shouldn't be here," you whispered, turning back to the mirror and smoothing down your bodice.

"And you really shouldn't be marrying that asshole."

Meeting his eyes through the mirror, you saw the set of his jaw. Like it had pained him to say the words. "He's a good man," was your only rebuttal.

"A good man, and yet every single smile you fake when you're with him."

"There's no way for you to know that." You turned to fully face him now, trying to act defiant when you knew deep down he was right about this mistake.

"Your eyes don't sparkle when you're around him, and ever since he put that engagement ring on your finger, your light has dimmed even further." His fingers curled around your wrist, bringing your left hand up so he could glare at the diamond in question.

You couldn't ignore the way your heartbeat stuttered at his gentle touch. How it always sped up in his presence.

"Run away with me," he whispered.

"Okay," you agreed.

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