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#Bucky Barnes x reader fluff
buckyalpine · 3 months
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40s Sergeant Barnes with a nurse and a Sergeant kink (and breeding and house wife kink, virginity loss). This was supposed to be a pure smutty drabble but then I got in my feelings and added some fluff and angst but I promise Bucky is still a dirty, nasty little fuck in this. Just with a sweeter ending. The one he deserves.
Listen just imagine what a cute, sexy menace Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes would be just waking up from an injury when his eyes flutter open to the pretty nurse he’s been eyeing from the day he started. You’re not a shy, dainty little thing, nope. Not at all.
You bark out orders like a drill Sergeant and one glare from you is all it takes to get everyone in line and on task without a second thought. Even his superiors are scared of you, biting their tongue when you stitch them up and send them on their way before running off to your next patient.
Bucky was in love.
“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he rasps, throwing you a charming smirk while you roll your eyes in response, shaking your head. "How'd I get so lucky, got a my little angel tendin' to me"
“I see your injury hasn’t stopped hurt that mouth of yours Sergeant" You quirk an eyebrow while he playfully huffs as you change the dressing covering a gash on his abdomen. You swab the area clean and he doesn't flinch even though you know it must burn like hell, his muscles tensed while he continues to watch you with heart eyes. "Now you know I'm not your little angel, I got 20 other men to fix up, you better be out of this bed as soon as you're all healed up"
“C’mon sugar, you're breakin' my heart" Bucky gives you a little pout with those perfect lips and you catch the twinkle in his eye as he looks over your form with complete admiration. He loved your sassy, take no shit attitude and it's taking everything in him to calm himself down so he doesn't get a hard on right there in front of you.
"You'd tell that to a cat with three legs if it was in a nurses outfit" You try your best to not give into his flirty comments and puppy eyes, knowing damn well he's a heart breaker but he makes it so difficult when he continues to woo you with his boyish charm.
He can't help but chase after you; catching the way your eyes always dart around with anxiety when his group returns from an operation, relief flooding them when you finally spot him. He loves your indifferent attitude, patting him down to make sure he's uninjured but your furrowed brows and the tiny pout on your lips give away that you're worried.
How can he just let you go. Every time you check over him, he needs you closer.
So much closer.
-
"Ms. y/l/n, Sergeant Barnes is requesting you in his tent, he says it's urgent"
You shake your head looking over at the time, quietly making your way over to the tent he's stationed at, thankful that a number of troops were sleeping so you wouldn't be seen as you quickly slip inside.
“And what hurts now” you sass with your hands on your hips seeing the soldier in perfect health, doing your best to assess him without letting him know.
"Always checkin' over me" Bucky chuckles, seeing what you're doing; his words making your cheeks heat up, "Knew you cared about me sugar"
"Well what am I doin' here" You give him an unconvincing huff, struggling to keep your voice steady, refusing to meet his eyes, keeping your gaze on his silver dog tags instead. It doesn't help that he's handsome as hell with a light dusting of scruff covering his cheeks. Bucky's never seen you flustered before and it evokes something in him, all the blood in his body rushing south seeing your fingers twitch.
All he wanted to do was kiss you but now-
“Help your Sergeant out doll” He whispers, taking another step forward till his chest brushes against yours, his hand coming to tilt your chin up, "Will you?"
You gasp feeling his hardness press against your thigh, your heart fluttering wildly as his thumb traces your lips, any semblance of control you had slipping away feeling the warmth of his skin.
“Y-yes Sergeant Barnes”
His lips press against yours, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the way his body was screaming for him to pick you up and toss you onto his cot.
"Sweet like sugar" He lets his hands fall to your waist, pulling you flush against his body while your arms drape on top of his shoulders. You stand on your toes chasing more of his lips and he chuckles at the needy whine you let out when he pulls away for air.
Now let's say your first night together was actually quite tame. He kisses you again and you swoon when he repeatedly checks in with you before going any further. His hand slips under your skirt, letting his fingers toy with places no on else has touched. With each night, he needs you more and more until he can't hold off any longer and neither can you.
-
You sneak into his tent and this time he doesn't hesitate to undress you completely, not when he needs you bare with nothing separating you both. You feel your heart race as he lies on top of you, draping a thin sheet over himself when you shiver at the chill night air. You feel his body heat instantly warm you up, his heavy cock resting between your soaked folds.
"Are you sure, sugar?" He asks, his hand cupping your cheek and stroking your skin.
"Please Sergeant" You whisper and the way you say his title makes his cock twitch. There's something so different about you when you're in his bed, a sweet little bunny giving herself to him completely. It drives him feral with a need to make you feel good, make you cry for his cock and his cock only, to keep you nice and full of him.
You don't look twice at anyone else and here you are completely naked in his tent with your tight little virgin cunt, your legs spread open so he can put his dick in you; there was no way he was ever going to let you go.
"You tell me if it's too much, alright?" His lips tickle your neck as kisses your skin while rubbing his heavy cock through your folds, coating it in your slick, "Breathe for me"
He slips his tags into your mouth as he starts to press in, the initial sting making you bite down hard onto the metal feeling a mix of pleasure and pain. You whine at the way he stretches you open, your thighs squeezing around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders.
"Shhh, that's it love, doin' so good for me so good for your Sergeant, look how you're takin' all of me baby" He looks down to where you're both connected as he continues to slowly push himself in till hes fully sheathed inside you. He gives you time to adjust, slipping his tags out of your lips and letting his tongue lace with yours instead, his balls already throbbing with how tightly you were squeezing his cock.
"Please-Sergeant" your heels press into his ass desperate for him to move, gasping when he starts to slowly roll his hips, barely pulling out.
"I got you love-don't worry" Bucky moves as slowly as he could not wanting to hurt you, taking just as much care of you as you had with him countless of times.
But he can only keep up at that pace for so long. Your muffled whines and moans don't help the way his mind is already spiraling. His pretty little nurse all spread out just for him, taking his raw, bare cock in her soaking pussy, squeezing him so tight, he was only a few strokes from cumming.
If it were up to him he would've proposed on the spot, thinking about making love to you on your wedding night, seeing you all shy and sweet wrapped up in soft white lace. If you were his wife, he'd take you apart every which way, not giving a fuck about traditions, taking you right on the dining room table.
You'd be the prettiest little thing for him to come home to, such a good wife all dirty just for her husband. Only he'd know the way your mouth would slobber all over his cock like your life depended on it. The way you'd moan at the taste of his cum. Bucky's eyes rolled back at the thought of you with nothing but some heels and a string of pearls he'd put around your neck while he stuffed you with cum and emptied his balls in you.
"S-Sergeant-I-oh god" You whimpered feeling his cock grow harder, your pussy pulling him right back in, feeling the coil low in your belly pull tighter and tighter as he hit that spot.
Meanwhile Bucky's jaw clenched as he felt his balls pull tight to his body, the tip leaking steadily in your pussy. His mind spiraled into places he didn't think would exist before he met you, rogue thoughts he only entertained when he had his dick in his hand. The harder he fucked you the more he thought about how gorgeous you'd look with a swollen belly.
Fuck, imagine if he got you pregnant right then and there. That nurses uniform would no longer fit you. Everyone would know he knocked you up, your perfectly round tummy carrying Sergeant James Barnes' baby, breasts heavy with milk, God, he wasn't going to last-
“Gonna let your Sergeant pump you full of cum?” He pants, letting his hands grip onto your hips like his life depends on it, the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit.
“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-youI-I'm gonna-"
"M'yours sweet girl, m'all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.
"Want your cum Sergeant" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.
"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, m-gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Bucky right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair; his usual kempt brown locks now disheveled .
“Y’know m’gonna marry you” his scruffy cheek nuzzles into your neck as he continues to stay deep inside you as his cock softens, “after all this is over. Gonna put a ring on that finger”
His words send a different wave of emotions over you, feeling more safe than ever, clinging onto him as tightly as possible. You let a whimper slip out and he pulls away from your neck with an expression of concern.
“What is it love” Bucky coos, wiping away the tears that slip you, stroking your cheek while you bite back a sniffle.
“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” You weren't sure what Bucky would want-there was still a war going on. Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-
"Of course sugar" Bucky presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"
-
And of course he gets his happy ending. Because when it's all over, he gets the ring for the girl he loves. He's on one knee, proposing to you with the sweetest words. He treats you like a princess on your wedding night, making love all night long until the sun is up.
There isn't a surface in the house he's left untouched. Nothing makes him more feral than moaning for his pretty wife, constantly taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock, watching that diamond glint with each stroke.
It doesn't take long for you to feel a little squeamish, knowing all the tell tale signs.
The day you tell him he's going to be a dad is one of the happiest days of his life. There isn't a single night that goes by where he isn't nuzzling his face into your tummy, talking to your little one.
Everything was perfecttt.
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ro-is-struggling · 3 months
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Self care || Bucky Barnes x Reader
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Summary: Bucky always seemed interested in your skin care routine, so when one day he arrives tired and drained from a mission, you take the opportunity to show him the importance and benefits of self-care.
Warnings: established relationship, brief mention to Bucky’s past trauma, a fuck ton of fluff, my little knowledge of skin care lol
English is not my first language
Word count: 2200
Notes: this was inspired by a dream I had. I thought it was cute and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I wrote this little thing. If it doesn’t make sense, blame my dumb dreams lol
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It was one of the first times you slept over at Bucky's place that you discovered he didn't have a skin care routine. He would look at you cleansing your face from the bathroom door, watching you apply creams and serums with a mixture of admiration and confusion in his expression. And every time you picked up a new product, he would ask you what it was and what did it do. 
It didn't really surprise you, most of the men you had dated tended to use a small number of personal hygiene products and usually the facial skin was only treated with soap and water. And if that was men your age, it was to be expected that Bucky and his over one hundred years of age were not aware of the benefits of skin care.You found his reactions kind of adorable. It wasn't every day that you caught Bucky acting with the naïve curiosity of a child, and you couldn't help but laugh as you answered his endless questions.
"Please tell me you at least wear sunscreen." You said and Bucky remained silent. "Oh my God, Bucky!" you complained, explaining to him how dangerous the sun was for his skin.
"After all I've been through, I don't think a little sun is going to kill me, doll." He laughed, coming up to you to hug you from behind. You wrapped your arms around his, smiling at him in the mirror as he rested his chin on your shoulder. 
The bastard knew how cute he was —looking at you through the mirror with blue eyes full of love—, and he was using it to his advantage to keep you from scolding him. He was probably right, the super soldier serum surely protected him from skin cancer in the same way it protected him from hits and falls that would be fatal to the rest of humanity. But still, it wouldn't hurt him to take care of himself a little every now and then.
"You smell nice." Bucky praised you, inhaling the subtle floral scent the creams had left on your skin. He gave you a kiss on the cheek, his stubble tickling your sensitive face. You laughed and he knew he had won.
"Don't think you're getting out of this so easily." you warned, tilting your head to the side so you could kiss him. "Flattery will get you nowhere!"
From that day on you decided that you would put together a skincare routine for Bucky. Super Soldier serum or not, everyone's skin needed a little help from time to time. And besides, you believed it was something that could benefit Bucky in more ways than just one. It would teach him to take better care of himself and to value the precious 'me time'. And god knew he needed that. So you made a mental note to buy a couple of products for him the next time you went to restock some of your kit and stopped thinking about it for a while.
That was until one day Bucky came home tired from a mission. You didn't quite know what he had to do and he didn't want to tell you much about it either when you asked him. Not knowing tore you apart, but you respected his wishes and didn't press the issue, deciding to help him in a way that wasn't invasive. You started with running him a bath, filling the tub with warm water and using some of your bath salts and lotions to create a more relaxing environment. You insisted on taking care of him, although Bucky didn't put up much resistance, surrendering to the soothing power of your caresses on his hair. Your fingers gently massaged his scalp, coating it with shampoo to remove all the dirt before rinsing it and repeating the process with conditioner.
He still found such intimacy a bit strange. Even though he enjoyed it, he still wasn't completely used to being cared for with the affection you showed him. It had been so long since anyone had treated him with such love and care that he could hardly remember it. But he felt safe in your hands, happy to have you in his life. A light of hope at the end of the dark tunnel of agony that had been his life. That was what you were to him. His second chance to live, to love. So he relaxed under your touch and let your gentle caresses take all the tiredness and worries out of his system.
But your pampering didn't end when Bucky got out of the tub. After he changed into his pajamas and laid down on his side of the bed, you emerged from the bathroom with a small white bag in your hands. You rested it on the nightstand and began pulling out various products he recognized from your skin care routine, arranging them in a nice neat line. 
"Doll... what are you doing?" Bucky asked, looking at the pink cat-ear headband you held in your hands. It was the one you always wore when you did your makeup or skin care routine, a tool you used to keep your hair out of your face while you worked. He always thought you looked adorable when you used it, but he didn't understand why you were directing it at him this time.
"Taking care of you." You replied as if it were obvious, "I want to show you the benefits of having a good skin care routine." Bucky hesitated for a moment, but eventually gave in to your soft smile and the sparkle of enthusiasm in your eyes. There was nothing he could say no to if you looked at him that way.
He gave you a slight nod and you took that as a signal to continue. You climbed onto the bed, settling onto his lap with one leg on either side of him, so you could face him and work more comfortably. Bucky put his hands on your hips instinctively, the cold metal of his fingers giving you goose bumps at the unexpected touch. But you didn't move them, you liked his hands there.
"First we have to make sure your hair is out of the way." You announced as you placed the headband on his head, making sure no hair was out of place or near his face. You couldn't help but let out a giggle as you admired Bucky wearing the accessory. The pink, furry cat ears looked so out of place it was ridiculous. The clear feminine energy of the headband clashed against the distinctive masculine look on his expression in a fun and charming way. It made him look adorable if you were honest, especially when he smiled at you. He could definitely pull it off.
"How do I look?" Bucky asked, batting his eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion. 
"Adorable." You replied between giggles, before giving him a quick peck on the lips.
When you broke apart, you began your skin care routine, taking a piece of cotton and your favorite micellar water to cleanse Bucky's skin. He looked at you closely, taking advantage of the position you were in to admire your beauty up close while you concentrated on soaking the cotton ball in the liquid. You were the most beautiful woman in the world, he was sure, and not only that, you were kind and loving too. A wonderful person all around and he still didn't understand how he had managed to get you by his side, but he was happy about it.
"Why do you have to clean my face? I just showered." Bucky mumbled with his eyes closed, feeling your delicate fingers on his chin as you ran wet cotton across his face.
You let out a giggle. "Water is not enough! And regular soap is too harsh on the skin of our face, so you need to use a cleanser or cream that is meant for the face."
"I never heard about that." Bucky frowned, tilting his head slightly to the side in confusion.
"Because you're a guy and guys are used to using one product for everything hygiene related."
“That’s not true!” he tried to defend himself, although he didn't sound very convinced.
You decided to skip a few steps in the routine to keep things simple. The idea was not only to pamper Bucky and help him relax, but also show him that maintaining a skin care routine didn't have to be complicated and could bring him many benefits. So you went straight to the eye cream, taking some with your ring finger and carefully applying it to the bags under his eyes.
"Stay still! You're gonna make me poke your eye if you move like that!"
"It already feels like you're poking my eye!"
"Don't be so dramatic!" You laughed, men really were cry babies. "Just close your eyes and trust me." Bucky grumbled, pouting. You planted a quick kiss on his lips, and that seemed to please him because he kept his eyes closed and stopped moving. Carefully, you spread the eye cream over his dark circles, giving his skin time to absorb the product before proceeding with the last step.
"What is that?" Bucky asked you curiously as you reached for the last tub in the line of products. 
"It's a night cream. You're supposed to use it at night after you wash your face to keep your skin moisturized."
"Isn't that what the other cream did?"
"No, silly! That was just for your under eye area, this helps hydrate the rest of your face. We need to give back all the good things we got rid off when we cleaned your skin of all the dirt and oils clogging your pores."
Bucky made an annoyed face, muttering about how complicated it all sounded. But the truth was, he was enjoying the extra attention you were giving him. He had you all to himself, the warmth of your body enveloping him in a comforting embrace as your fingers gently massaged his face. He couldn't think of a better definition of paradise than that. Just the two of you sharing an intimate moment, far from the horrors of the outside world. He could commit to a skin care routine if it involved at least a third of the pampering you were giving him at that moment.
"You don't need to use much," you continued your explanation, dipping one of your fingertips into the cream before bringing it up to Bucky's face. "Just a little bit here, here, here... and here." You painted a couple of white dots on his cheeks, forehead and chin, kissing the tip of his nose before applying a bit of cream to the area. It was such a cute and intimate act he almost blushed.
The first thing Bucky noticed about the cream was the scent. It had a light rose fragrance that was familiar to him, comforting even. It traveled up his nostrils as you massaged the cream into his face, sparking a warm and fuzzy feeling inside him. It took him a few seconds to understand that it was because that was the same rose scent he recognized on your skin whenever he kissed you, that sweet floral scent he had learned to recognize as home. He finally knew he had your choice in moisturizer to thank for it. 
"You're using your cream on me?"
"Yes, it's the only one I had. The perfume doesn't last long, don't worry. I'll buy you an unscented one tomorrow."
"No, don't! I like this one, it smells like you... it's like having a little piece of you with me all the time."
You didn't expect him to say that, so you weren't prepared for the tingling warmth of love that coursed through your body. The idea that he wanted to keep you close at all times, that he recognized your scent and found comfort and safety in it, made your heart melt with love. Bucky was normally a man of few words, and tended to show his feelings with other things rather than words. Acts of service were his most common way of showing how much he loved you, although he also resorted to spending quality time together whenever you had free time. But every once in a while, he would manage to drop a sentence like that, which in concise words made it clear how much he loved you. Always taking you by surprise, he would drop them at the most casual moments, leaving you completely stupid for a few seconds as you processed his words and wondered what you had done to deserve having someone so wonderful in your life. 
Bucky gave you a shy smile, cheeks turning pink under your gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable. He looked so adorable that you couldn't help but join your lips with his in a slow, loving kiss. He reciprocated immediately, one of his hands leaving your waist to cradle your cheek, pressing you tighter against him and deepening the kiss. 
"I love you," you muttered against his lips, pressing your forehead against his as you gazed into his deep blue eyes.
Bucky smiled, feeling the last bit of stress evaporate from his system thanks to you and your sweetness.  "I love you too."
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antiquarianfics · 7 months
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You Have a Girlfriend?
So you get a little confused when you’re drunk? So what?
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a/n: I saw a goofy little twitter post about this somewhere and ran with it. I’m goofy when I’m drunk, so, honestly? A very plausible scenario.
warnings: Mild language, alcohol consumption.
note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.
You do not have permission to copy, repost, or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.
You’re sitting next to Bucky and across from Sam, and you are a little very drunk. The three of you chose to have a drink and talk after a long day of working on the Wilsons’ boat. The issue, however, is that Sam challenged Bucky and yourself to a drinking game, and you were desperately losing.
One thing about you is that when you’re drunk: you feel the need to tell everyone how much you love them. Another thing about you when you’re drunk: your memory sucks.
“Sam,” you whisper yell across the bow of the boat. “Sam. Sam. Sam.”
Sam raises an eyebrow at you when he turns his attention to you.
“I have a secret to tell you! No, two secrets!” You hold out two fingers in front of you.
Sam smirks. “What’s that?”
“One,” you hold up one finger, “I love you; you’re a good friend. Two,” you hold up a second finger, “your friend who’s sitting by me is really, really hot.”
Sam lets out a loud laugh, and you grin at his reaction.
“I love you, too, kid.”
Bucky is smiling fondly at you, watching you with love and adoration. He’s glad he can’t get drunk simply for the ability to take care of you while you let loose.
“I’m really, really hot, huh?” Bucky teases, and he laughs when you nearly get whiplash from turning to look at him.
Your eyes are wide as you stare at him. In your drunken state, you clearly didn’t expect him to hear your admission to Sam. You relax after a second, though, and smile at him.
“Yeah, you are. Y’know, I was wonderin’…” you trail off, getting distracted as you stare into his bright blue eyes. You let out a content sigh as you observe him.
“What were ya wonderin’, Doll?” He lets his hand rest on your thigh, rubbing his hand up and down comfortingly.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Your question is dead serious. There’s no hesitancy or joke in your voice, and Bucky finds it completely endearing. He chuckles as he stares at you, and you can faintly hear Sam lose his shit. You don’t pull your attention away from Bucky at all, though.
“I do,” Bucky informs you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at your reaction.
Your eyes go wide, tears prickle at the corner of them. You swallow and wipe them away before doing your best to come up with a steady voice.
“Is it serious?” You question him.
“Very,” he smiles. “‘m gonna ask her to marry me.”
Generally speaking, Bucky wouldn’t have told you his plans, but he is fairly certain you’re not going to remember this conversation in the morning. And, if you do, he isn’t too concerned because he is so very serious.
You make no effort to hide your disappointment, and you let your tears fall freely this time.
“Oh, okay. She’s so lucky. Does she make you happy?”
“Happier than I’ve ever been.”
“Oh. That’s good.”
You’re obviously upset, and you’re obviously unaware Bucky is talking about you. Sam is trying not to laugh, but his wide grin betrays him. Bucky, however, finds himself more concerned than entertained when you start to actually cry.
“Doll, what’s wrong?” He wipes a tear away with his thumb, softly holding your face.
“No!” You push his hand away, eyes going wide. “You have a girlfriend! She wouldn’t want you touchin’ me!”
He laughs then. He can’t help it. After all, his girlfriend would very much want him to touch you. You always have your hand interlaced with his, or your body snugly tucked into his side, or your hand in his hair, or… The list goes on.
“Hey, don’t laugh.” You frown.
“Sorry, sorry. ‘s just that my girlfriend loves when I touch you.”
Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.
“Why would she like for you to touch other women?”
Sam bursts into another round of laughter. He is struggling to breathe as he wordlessly points at the two of you, ignoring Bucky’s glare.
“Oh, Doll, she doesn’t. She hates it, really, and I never pay another dame a lick of attention. She’s the only one I’ve got eyes for.” He kisses your forehead, a form of punctuation to his assurance.
Your critical thinking skills, however, are formally shot.
“You’re lying! You’re paying me attention! And I’m not your girlfriend! What’s your girlfriend’s name? I’ve got to tell her you’re cheating. Girl code.”
Sam loses it again.
“Your girlfriend! You: cheating! Shit!” Sam barely manages to get a thought out. Bucky grins at his friend. He can’t deny that he is just as entertained by your antics.
He pulls out his phone, opening his contacts up to the one labeled “Dollface,” and hands it to you.
“Here,” he says, “call her.”
You nod and take his phone, hitting the call button and holding his cellphone to your ear.
A ringtone fills the night air and you frown when you feel a vibration in your back pocket. Clumsily, you pull your own cellphone out of your pocket and look down at the screen.
“JBB <3 is calling…” appears on your screen along with a candid photo of Bucky laughing.
You stare at it, and Sam and Bucky stare at you. You don’t do anything—don’t say anything, don’t move—until the call goes to voicemail. Finally you look up at Bucky.
“Why’d it call me?”
“Y/N, you’re my girlfriend,” Bucky finally says.
Your face breaks into a wide grin.
“No shit!”
“I wasn’t that drunk!” You insist the following morning.
Sam and Bucky exchange a look before laughing.
“Kid,” Sam says once he’s calmed down enough. “You asked Tin-man if he had a girlfriend and cried when he said yes.”
Your eyes go wide as you turn to Bucky for confirmation.
“You did, Doll,” he says, smiling.
You stare for a moment before shrugging and turning back to your coffee in front of you.
“Y’know what? That’s a totally reasonable reaction,” you say, leaning back into Bucky as he situates himself behind you and plants a loving kiss in your hair.
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thevillainswhore · 5 days
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The Ties That Bind Us
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Pairing: Ex-Husband!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Word Count: 5.7k
Summary: Even though Bucky is your ex-husband, you still have to see him often because of your shared son. But the heated tension, the spark that is still very much alive after your divorce, finally reaches its peak when you come home from your date.
Warnings: Mentions of divorce, small amount of angst, mutual pining, jealousy, kissing, smut, oral (fem receiving), daddy kink, p in v sex, derogatory names, spitting, happy ending.
Author’s Note: Unbeta’d, warning graphics and dividers by @rookthorne
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“You look so pretty, Mama!” You caught your son’s reflection in the mirror, his bright blue eyes wide and in awe as you finished the final touches up of your makeup. 
You were about to respond, but the words died on your tongue at the sight of Bucky’s large form rounding the corner into the bathroom. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over one another. “She absolutely does, cupcake.”
The intensity of his stare made you gulp silently, and you diverted your eyes back to your son.   
Bucky had been doing that a lot recently —looking at you differently, more longing in his eyes than usual. 
“Thank you, baby,” you said, ignoring Bucky in favour of showing your appreciation to your son. The knot in your stomach was wound too tight to try and unravel the conflict that ravaged in your mind. “You’re going to be good for your Dad tonight, aren’t you?” 
Your son did his best to try and hide the cheeky smirk on his lips — one that resembled his father a little too much. “Of course Mama, I be a good boy.” 
Unable to help the smile growing on your face, you brought him into your embrace, snuggling him tightly until he let out a loud squeal when you tickled his stomach. “I mean it, trouble. No staying up late and no ice cream before bed.” 
Instantly, his puppy eyes fell to his father, an innocent pout on his lips. “But Dadda—“ 
“Sorry kid,” Bucky held strong. Glancing to you before looking back to his son, “Mama’s rules.” 
“Oh, shucks,” your son sighed as you laughed. 
From the outside looking in, the three of you seemed like a perfect family. Picturesque and ideal — white picket fences enclosing a home that was full of love and laughter, wholesome family dinners and celebrations for each loved one. 
But things were never as simple as you wished. 
The sobering thought made your laughter die in your throat, and you checked the time on your lit up phone screen. It was almost time for your date and you were wary of being late. “Okay, cupcake. I’ve gotta get moving so I can make it on time.” 
“Aw,” your son whined, and you ruffled his hair as you made your way out of the bathroom. The air was knocked out of your lungs as you squeezed by Bucky, the scent of his aftershave he had worn since you first met him filled your nose and overtook your senses. 
You barely suppressed a moan, a sinful combination that your mind begged you to inhale one more time, while another internal voice scolded you. The lingering touch of his fingers ghosting over your waist made it even harder to listen to sense. 
Once you reached the hallway, you shook yourself and grabbed your bag from its hook by the door.  The coat over your arm was warm and comfortable as you slipped it over your shoulders. 
The telltale patter of feet over the hardwood floor bounced towards you, along with another set of heavier ones not too far behind. “Where you going this time, mama?” cupcake asked. 
Smiling, you leaned down and tucked a stray lock of deep brown hair behind his ear. “Just for dinner, baby. I won’t be out long and I promise I’ll be back to make you pancakes in the morning, okay, sweetie?” 
He nodded before stepping closer and tiptoeing up to whisper in your ear. “Make sure he treat you good because you deserve whole world.” 
Tears sprung to your eyes, clinging on to your waterline. You blinked them away quickly before your son could notice. 
Though, Bucky did. 
You kissed his forehead, and leaned back to look into his eyes. “You got it, cupcake.” 
Stepping forward, Bucky spoke up. “Why don’t you say goodbye to Mama and go get a movie set up, huh pal? I’ll be with you soon.” 
Before your son left, he hugged you. “Bye Mama, I loves you.” 
You smiled as he ran off. “I love you too, baby — and remember to be good!”
Only Bucky and you were left by the door, your blanket of comfortability was gone and you felt his eyes that held too many memories burning through you. 
“You really do look beautiful,” he vowed. 
Fuck, you internally cursed.
You tried not to look into his eyes while you fumbled with your dress. “Thank you, Bucky.” You quickly shifted the conversation. “If he doesn’t settle then text me, okay? My phone will be on loud and I’ll answer straight away—“ 
“As much as I— We would like you home, I’m sure we’ll survive without you for a couple of hours,” Bucky said, recovering from his hiccup smoothly. 
Your gazes met — you had always gotten lost in his eyes and even all these years later nothing had changed. 
Snapping out of your reverie, you shook your head and unlocked the door. “I’ll um— I’ll be back later.” 
Before you could leave, Bucky caught your hand. “Have fun, Doll.” 
And with all the strength you had, you delicately took your hand out of his, taking note of the tan line of where his wedding ring used to sit. “Bye, James.” 
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The date went as expected. 
Your company for the night wasn’t a problem at all. In fact, this was the third date you had both been on together. However, the spark you had so badly tried to ignite through bland conversations and one already ringed out similar interest fell short. 
Every date you had been on since your divorce with Bucky seemed to lack a certain something for you. Although in recent light, you had come to terms with the fact you that no one’s eyes had the same shade of blue you were familiar with. Or made your heart jump in your chest from excited nerves years after your first meeting. 
Simply, you hated the fact you compared every single man to Bucky. 
With a sigh, you unlocked your door, careful to make as little noise as possible as you walked into your home. It was quiet, almost silent, apart from those damned footsteps that eased the weight off your chest and yet caused goosebumps to cascade down the bare skin of your arms.  
Bucky rounded the corner from your kitchen to the open plan living room, a glass of whiskey in his hand in the orange hue of the darkness, provided by a single lit lamp. 
“Hey,” he greeted you, the expression on his face imperceptible. “How was your date?” 
You cleared your throat, struggling to keep your composure from the sight of his tight black T-shirt and denim jeans that deliciously hugged his thighs. “Um yeah— it was— it was okay.” 
Bucky raised an eyebrow in skepticism. “Just okay?” He laughed. “Come on, give me more than that.”
You sighed in defeat. “I told him it was best if we didn’t see each other anymore.” 
Unfortunately, there was only so much of a facade you could fake until it became noticeable to your date. It was an amicable decision with no hard feelings. But, it didn’t help to settle the confusing thoughts in your head. 
Bucky took a swig of his drink, placing it on the hallway side table before he began slowly pacing towards you. 
You couldn’t discern the look in his eyes, the way they feasted on your thighs or your waist. Backing up against the door until you physically couldn’t break free from the heat of his gaze, you could only watch as Bucky drew closer, right until you were a breath apart. 
He brought an arm up, over the top of your head to lean against the door. “Any reason why?” he asked, a husk to his tone that granted you no favours. 
A sudden pulse shot through your nerves, the ache between your thighs intense. It took everything in you to not rub them together. He would notice that you were sure of. 
Desperate to escape what was sure to be a dangerous situation, you quickly slid out of his invisible hold and hastily made your way to the kitchen to pour your own drink. Bucky joined you only seconds later. 
“How was cupcake?” you asked instead, attempting to switch the conversation to a safe topic. “I hope he didn’t cause you too much trouble.” 
“He was good as gold,” he instantly replied, staring you down. A beat later, “He whined about the ice cream situation, but I promised I’d take him out for it tomorrow and he was out like a light  — we had fun.” 
You slightly faltered as you poured the whiskey into a second glass. You didn’t miss his small innuendo of spending more time together.  
“Thanks for looking after him tonight. I know it was pretty useless anyway, but—“ 
Bucky trapped you against the counter as he placed his hand over yours, his deep baritone rumbling in your ears. “Don’t thank me for looking after my own son, you know I’d do it all the time if I could.” He took a deep breath. “If you would let me.” 
No. You couldn’t do this. 
You immediately dropped the bottle of whiskey onto the kitchen countertop, ripping yourself away from his touch to walk away. 
Bucky reached out as he followed you. “Babydoll—“ 
“Don’t fucking call me that,” you scolded, fury in your voice. 
Bucky however, wasn’t deterred. “Doll.”
“No—“
“Will you just—“ he caught you with a firm grip and spun you around to face him. “Will you stop running away from me.” 
The two of you were out of breath from sudden adrenaline, harshly breathing into each other's mouths. The look in Bucky’s eyes was wild, untamed — tortured.
“Tell me you’ve never thought about it — us getting back together.” He gripped onto your arms, his eyes flicking between yours. “Tell me I’m delusional and I’ll walk out that door right now and we’ll never speak of this again.” 
The ache in his voice broke your heart as much as the day you signed the divorce papers. 
“Bucky—“ 
“Please.” He cupped your face with his hands, glancing between your eyes and your lips while his thumb slowly rubbed over them. “I’m a desperate man, baby. I’m desperate for you.” 
You gulped, emotion bubbling over into your voice. “We broke up, Bucky. We’re divorced.” 
He laughed wetly, but there was no humour in his tone. “And that means we can’t try again?” 
The reasons for your separation seemed to blur under his stare. All the ways you weren’t good for each other leaving your mind and only making room for the good. 
“Where the hell is this coming from, Bucky?” You deflected once again. 
Your hands shook as he leaned his forehead against yours. “I can’t stand the thought of seeing you go out with another man again,” he whispered, painfully. “It’s killing me, Babydoll. It should be me.” 
Tears rushed over your cheeks, you were too overwhelmed to hold them back any longer. You sniffled as you glanced down the hall where you son currently lied fast asleep and obvlious. “I can’t hurt our son, Bucky — I can’t.” 
He smiled sadly at you, the crinkle in his eyes ever present but they only made you swoon for him even more. “There’s a reason all those dates don’t ever work out.” 
You couldn’t hear it, couldn’t take what he was trying to say. “Stop it.” 
“I know you’ve been holding back as much as I have.” 
He was pushing you, like he always did and as much as you wanted to curse him, it was working. “Please don’t make me—“
The point of no return came in the form of your most hidden secret spilling from Bucky’s lips. “You still love me, Babydoll.”
Ice ran through your veins, hearing those words out loud that you hadn’t dared let yourself believe. Your mouth gaped open, unable to find the words to deny his accusations until your tether broke. 
“Fine! I’m ruined for anyone else!” you shouted, frustrated and scared — a wild animal trapped in a corner. “You’ve ruined me — is that what you want to hear?”
His plump lips, soft and pink curled up. “It’s exactly what I want to hear.” 
Leaping forward, Bucky crashed his lips against yours. 
He was feverish as you both collided into each other. His hands, unrelenting yet gentle mapped out each and every slope of your body as you stood in the living room, feeling each other for the first time in years. 
“Fuck,” he groaned between kisses. “Fuck, I’ve missed you, baby.” 
Your head spun, dizzy with want. You hadn’t been touched in so long by anyone, never mind your ex-husband and your heart pounded erratically with nerves, excitement and longing. 
Slipping his tongue into your mouth, Bucky kissed you like he was starved, as though you were his only salvation. He ran his fingers through your hair, tugging it harshly to pull you closer to him even though there was no longer any distance between the two of you. 
“You’ve got no idea how bad I need you,” he whined into your mouth. “Need to fuckin’— I just need you.” 
Without you realising, Bucky had pushed you up against the nearest wall and even through denim jeans you could feel the hard shape of his cock while he unabashedly grinded against you. 
You broke for air, gasping as oxygen rushed to your lungs. “You have me, Bucky.” He trailed sloppy kisses down your neck as you panted, desperate to stain your skin with any trace of him. “You can have anything you want.” 
He growled, a sound that caused a gush of wetness to soak your panties. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to me, sweetheart.” 
Ripping away from you, he grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the laundry room on the other side of your house. You struggled to keep up with his fast strides in your heels, but you just about managed as he shoved you through the door and locked it behind him. 
His back was turned to you for a while and you stood nervously fidgeting, waiting for him to face you. His back rose and fell with breathless heaves, as though he was holding back — a feral beast ready to pounce. 
“Babydoll,” he said suddenly, rough and graveled. “I need to know you want this before I fuck the shit out of you.” 
Holy fuck, the mouth on this man. Your mouth grew dry while you struggled to think clearly in his aura. “I— I do—“ you stuttered, lamely.
He slowly turned around, a wolfish gleam in his eyes with adrenaline surging through his veins. He was tense as he took a deep breath. “Say it like you mean it.” 
When you stayed quiet, too hazy to speak, Bucky stalked towards you, lifting your chin up to look him directly in his eyes. “Say. It.”
Closing your eyes, you cleared your mind and swallowed before whispering, “I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my name, Bucky.” 
He smirked, the kind you knew all too well — deadly. “Atta’ girl.” 
You sqeauled as he suddenly hiked you up into his arms, hands under your thighs so he could place you on top of the washing machine. Laundry detergents and other products you didn’t care to take note of fell from the shelves around you as he pounced on you once again, devouring you whole with his sinful lips. 
“Do you know how much I’ve had to restrain myself, Doll — Mm?” he pressed, covering every inch of bare skin you had to offer with his kisses. “How fuckin’ hard it’s been to not drag you back in the house and take you right then while you get dressed up for someone else?” 
You did. Because you understood more than anyone the pain of having to force yourself away from Bucky when all you had ever wanted was him. 
He unbuckled his belt, the telltale sound of the leather snapping against his hands and the jingle of metal sent bolts of electricity straight to your cunt.  
Your mind couldn’t keep up, your vision blurry with the sudden turn of events. All you knew was that you needed Bucky. 
“Hurry, baby. Please,” you whined. 
Bucky groaned with delight, his eyes rolling to the back of his head while he bit his swollen bottom lip. “Oh, how I’ve missed you begging for me, pretty mama.” 
Rushing to take off his belt, he slid the material through the loops of his jeans and threw it on the floor, not long after hurrying to unzip his fly and shuffle his pants down along with his underwear.
The tip of his cock peaked out of his black briefs and instantly you let out a high pitched moan, even shocking Bucky enough to look back up at you drooling over him. 
“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, slightly condescending. “Don’t you worry, Daddy’s gonna take care of you.” 
Bucky revealed the entirety of his cock, the length just as long as you remembered and the girth as thick as you had imagined in your nights alone with your toys that couldn’t compare. 
The slight curve that you could feel the ghost of pleasure from to this day caused you to bite your lip and squirm in your place. 
Without waiting for Bucky, you began shifting the bottom of your dress up your thighs, too impatient to wait for him to undress you. It gave you immense satisfaction when he followed the material, slowly revealing more of your skin. His mouth gaped open while he fell to his knees, the thud that sounded surely must have hurt, but there was no other expression on his face than greed. 
You stopped your dress just before Bucky could peak at your red panties and you almost laughed when his head shot up, aghast that you had interrupted the show. 
The power you held, you smirked. “You want more, Daddy?”��
Bucky dropped his head onto your thighs, his breath travelling up to your covered mound — your eyes fluttered, though you kept your breathing steady to not seem so desperate. 
Stroking your fingers through his fluffy hair, you murmured low, “Does it hurt to know my pussy is right here and you can’t have it?” 
You felt his muscles quickly lock up, his head snapping up to you with a speed that was frightening and exhilarating all at once. The blue of his irises darkened, dilating as he chuckled, “You’re very much mistaken, sweetheart. Because this pussy right here,” he shoved your dress up, spread your legs and breathed into you. “She’s mine, baby girl. And you’ve kept her from me long enough.” 
A chilled blast of air hit you as Bucky tore your panties from your waist and held them up. “You wore these slutty panties for that fucker, huh?” 
You gasped in shock when he brought them to his nose and inhaled the gusset deeply. He grunted as he closed his eyes in bliss. “Cos’ I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s got you this soaked.” 
Your keens amused him greatly. “Bucky—“ 
“That’s right, mama,” he laughed with pride. “My name sounds so damn heavenly coming from your lips.” 
Bucky pocketed your underwear, not caring to be discreet and his thumbs came up to your cunt to spread you open to his eager eyes. “My god, baby,” he gasped in awe. Your hole clenched at the vulgar display. “You’re just as tight as the last time I had you.” 
He tested a finger over your folds, running it through the embarrassing amount of slick that coated you. 
“No one,” you breathed, shaking your head while willing your scrambled thoughts to formulate into words. “There’s been— there hasn’t—“ 
Bucky looked up at you from his knelt position, a small slither of vulnerability shining through his lust-hooded eyes. “Just me?” 
You gulped and nodded, staring into his wide blues with honesty. “Just you.”
A moment passed between you. The charged air filtered down to that spark that had always been buried through the heartbreak you both endured in your divorce. 
Bucky swallowed before placing a single kiss to the inside of your knee. “Then let me make up for that.” 
You leaned your head back against the shelf behind you as his lips traveled up the meat of your thighs, yelping each time he gently bit you. 
He murmured obscenities you could barely respond to as he edged closer to your pussy. You offered yourself freely, on a platter, as your legs opened even wider for him — the only man who ever truly owned you. 
His lips whispered over your mound, a hint for what was about to come. “I’ve been waiting to taste you again for years.” 
You moaned aloud, unhinged and unapologetic while Bucky licked a fat stripe up your cunt. Your nerves were alight with pure fire and you instantly grabbed onto the back of his head to push him further into you. 
You didn’t care if the action was needy — one single touch of him and you were a goner once again. 
He feasted on you, not coming up for air as he switched between sucking your clit and slurping your juices. “Oh my god— Bucky, baby you gotta— holy fuck.” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
Bucky wrapped his thick arms around your thighs and dragged you closer to him — all too happy to suffocate between your legs. “Sweet as a fuckin’ apple pie,” he murmured into you, the vibrations only deepening your pleasure. 
Looking down at him, his eyes were homed in on you, watching your every expression. They were blown out, wild while strands of his hair stuck out in every direction. 
Pulling away slightly, his heavy pants blew over your throbbing clit. “Daddy makin’ you feel good, Babydoll?” 
You hardly had time to reply as he immediately shoved his tongue into your clenching hole and fucked you with it. 
“Bucky!” you screamed to the ceiling. However, a harsh slap delivered to your thigh snapped you back to sense. 
“You know that’s not what you call me,” he barked. 
Whining, you corrected yourself. “Daddy, please!” 
You felt his smirk plastered over your pussy as he hummed into you, “There’s my good girl.” 
Your legs began to shake as you felt your climax creep to the surface and Bucky only doubled down with his sinful tongue that you somehow had forgotten he was way too talented with. 
“I’m close,” you whispered as your vision began to blur. “So close — please, please don’t stop.” 
Bucky continued his ministrations while your pussy fluttered around his tongue. Your release was within reaching distance and you gripped the washing machine, ready to let go until suddenly his presence was gone. 
You almost fell forward before you caught yourself with your remaining strength. The pent up tension that was wound in your stomach hadn’t loosened and it took you a second to realise you hadn’t cum. 
“W—what?” you mumbled shakily as you blinked your eyes open. Bucky stood there, his cock pulsing and viciously purple, with a smirk on his face, wiping his slick covered mouth with his arm. It disorientated you. 
“I haven’t—“ you swallowed the dryness of your mouth. “You didn’t make me—“ 
Bucky’s cock bobbed as he closed the distance between you, dizzying you even further with a passionate kiss. “No I didn’t, baby.” 
You whimpered in despair, the ache worsening. “But Daddy—“
“Nu-uh,” he breathed while lining his cock against your hole. “You’re only gonna fuckin’ cum when I say you can.”
Recklessly, Bucky pushed his full length into your pussy. You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into him as the sheer size of his thick cock winded you enough to wail out. 
“Shit,” he cursed, a strain in his voice as he firmly gripped your hips. “Fuckin’ hell— Babydoll, how the fuck are you still so tight.” 
Impatiently, you fidgeted. Whether it was to escape how full he made you or try and force him deeper into your cunt you weren’t sure. All of it was too overwhelming to process.
“I can’t,” you shook your head, tears building over your glassy eyes. “You’re too big— Bucky, I can’t—“ 
“Yes you can,” he declared with conviction while he lifted your gaze to him. “You can take it, sweetheart.” 
Slowly, Bucky began to ease out of your cunt. His cock was coated with your wetness and he moaned deeply at the sight. He grinded back into you, his curved tip hitting every sensitive spot. 
“There we go,” he brushed your hair back and kissed your forehead, praising you. “Taking my cock so good, Babydoll. Just like always.” 
His touch was familiar, yet new — all consuming and claiming — and you melted into him, smothering his neck with a litany of kisses as he continued to gently thrust his cock into you. 
“M—Missed you,” you confessed, drunk from lust and emotion. “Missed you so much, Bucky.” 
The motion of his hips sped up as he began pounding into you with more force. “Yeah? You missed being a sweet little wife for me?” He taunted with an evil grin. “You loved being Daddy’s little slut, didn’t you?” 
“Mhm— Always your slut, Daddy!” You sobbed into his skin. 
His pace turned unrelenting, fierce after too much lost time. He fucked you as though he would be left out to dry after he was done. 
Grabbing your cheeks, he leaned his forehead against yours. “You’re mine, Babydoll,” he grunted. “Don’t care who’s fuckin’ taking you on dates. You belong to me.” 
Nodding your head, you fell mute, mouth gaped wide as you felt the knot begin to build up in your stomach once more. 
Bucky looked down to watch his dick glisten with your slick. The obscene sounds created from the amount of your juices leaking out only caused his cock to throb. Your cunt squelched with each thrust he made. But it wasn’t enough for him. 
Gathering saliva in his mouth, Bucky spat to where the two of you connected, groaning as it clung to your pussy and stringed out with his motions. 
Your squeals of pleasure began to get louder as the coil tightened, “I’m gonna—“ 
Before you could rush the words out, Bucky pleaded, “Tell me you love me.” 
Your eyes snapped up to his, more alert now. He didn’t falter, only fucked you with more abandon. 
“Tell me you love me,” he repeated once more, a demand this time.
“Bucky, I—“ 
“I know you do, Doll.” His hips started to twitch, his telltale sign that he was also close to cumming. However, you had an inclination that he wouldn’t let himself go until you gave him what you wanted. “I know you remember how good it used to be. Let me come home and I’ll fuck you this good whenever you want.” 
You gurgled around his fingers as he suddenly shoved them into your mouth, collecting the drool gathered on your tongue to bring them down to your clit. He didn’t ease them against you, instead rubbing tight circles rapidly, bringing you closer to the edge faster. 
It was impossible to escape his dark eyes or the fierce hold of his hand at the back of your neck. “Feels so fucking good, Daddy!” you blurted.
“I know, mama,” he assured as he drove his cock into you even harder. “Your cunt feels like heaven.” 
“I wanna cum,” you cried. “I need to cum.” 
“You know what you’ve gotta do then, don’t you, Babydoll?” 
You squeezed your eyes closed. The pleasure started to blend into a mix of pain and you were only slightly ashamed that it only turned you on more. “I—“ 
“Come on, baby. Give me what I want.” A few more punishing thrusts and you were treading the line of your impending orgasm. Your thighs shook violently and beads of sweat dripped down your chest. But when Bucky grounded out his next words, you fell apart. “Be a good wife for Daddy and tell me the truth.” 
You couldn’t hold back any longer, the balance of your orgasm tipping over along with the truth you tried to withhold. “I love you, Bucky!” 
Instantly, you felt the pulse of Bucky’s cock, a warm shoot of his load filling your cunt while you silently screamed and shook with the intensity of your climax. 
Everything fell deaf to your ears as you fought to catch your breath, slumping against Bucky. His heavy breaths blew your stray hairs sticking out from the sweat gathered on your head while his hips continued to slowly pump into you from the aftershocks of his own orgasm. 
You were brought back to the present with the gentle touch of his lips pressing against your cheeks, kissing your skin delicately. “Hey there, Babydoll.” 
While you would have normally been nervous, the energy that he had drained you of allowed your inhibitions and walls to crumble, leaving you to smile drunkenly at him. “Hi,” you whispered. 
Bucky checked you over, darting his eyes over your face. “You feeling okay?” 
“Mhm,” you mumbled, bringing your thumb up to swipe over his stubble you had always been fond of. “Freshly fucked and never better.” 
The corner of his lips curved up, a small mirth of laughter escaping him. He licked his lips and you detected a hint of nerves that crossed over his features. “I um— I’m sorry if I—“ 
You placed your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him. “You didn’t go too rough.” Slowly, you brought your finger down, hooking it into the collar of his shirt. “I enjoyed myself.” 
“Good.” He brought one of your hands up to his mouth to kiss the palm of your hand. “Good.” 
The two of you barely noticed his length still deep in you. All that you cared for was the weight suddenly released from your chest. 
“Did you mean it?” Bucky asked, cutting through the peaceful silence. He was defenseless, all guards down with a shimmer of hope twinkling in his ocean eyes. 
You knew exactly what he was referring to and you inhaled deeply before you replied, “I did.” 
He swallowed thickly, his emotion clear though his bright eyes. “I love you too — so fuckin’ much.” He nuzzled into your neck as your hand held him close to you. “I’ve missed you.” 
A lump gathered in your throat once more. Breathing in Bucky’s scent freely, without guilt this time, you sunk into his embrace even further. 
“Can I come home?” he whispered into your skin, a desperate plea. “I’ll do whatever you want — I’ll go to counseling with you, we can take things slow. I just need you back, Babydoll.” 
The answer was simple. You knew in your heart there was no one else for you, no one better. No matter your differences, everything would always lead back to Bucky and you were willing to give the two of you a second chance. 
“Okay,” you answered softly. 
His head shot up, eyes wide and red from the tears you felt gathering on your neck. “Okay?” he repeated hopefully. 
You smiled, kissing him gently on the lips before you muttered, “Come back home, baby.”
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The pan sizzled on the stove as you cooked the last pancake, a stack already piled high on the counter next to you for breakfast. 
Music played softly on the radio and you swayed your hips side to side, covered by a long T-shirt, while you hummed to yourself. 
You were interrupted from your task when a pair of thick arms wrapped around your middle, hugging you from behind tightly. “Yknow, I could have had my breakfast in bed,” Bucky grumbled into your ear, his deep morning voice causing your eyes to slightly flutter. 
You huffed a laugh before you mumbled, “I bet you could, greedy.” 
The bristles of his trimmed beard tickled your skin as he playfully nibbled your neck. “Can’t exactly blame a man when his woman tastes so sweet, Babydoll.” 
Your head started to feel heavy as you gave into his kisses, leaning back into his hold and opening yourself up for him. 
“There’s a good girl,” Bucky praised you. “You just let Daddy—“
Peaking an eye open, you watched as his hand crept forward, about to pinch a pancake from the pile. He yelped as you swatted his hand away, a pout on his lips while you grinned. 
“Nice try, Daddy,” you teased, smugly. 
Before Bucky could retort back, a sluggish set of small footsteps sounded over the floorboards and you whipped around to find your son, still sleepy, making his way to the dining table. 
“Morning, cupcake!” you greeted him cheerfully. 
With difficulty, he climbed his way onto one of the chairs, huffing with the effort and sinking down once comfortable. He looked towards you, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Mornin’, mama—“ 
Frowning, your son looked towards Bucky, finally noticing him too. “Dadda?” he asked, confused. 
“Hey, pal.” Bucky treaded, carefully. 
Your son’s gaze fell to the lack of distance between you and Bucky, his hand still lingering on your waist. Keeping your composure, you waited nervously for his reaction. 
“He treat you good, mama?” he asked all so innocently with a hint of fierceness in his bright blue eyes. 
You watched with bated breath as Bucky stepped towards him, leaning over the table with his palm up to your son. “I’m gonna take good care of mama, “ he promised with sincerity. 
Your son deliberated for a moment before nodding his head and reached out to hold his Dad’s hand. “Okay, can I have pancakes now?” 
You sighed a breath of relief. “Of course, baby.” 
It was silent for a moment, in your small kitchen while you plated up breakfast for your family. Bucky and you shared an intimate smile until your son spoke up once again. “Just don’t forget about the ice cream you promised me.” 
Laughter filled the entirety of the kitchen, a home once again bathed in love — your perfect little family. 
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Honey Girl.
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Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.
Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au
Age Rating - 18+
Word Count - 5.1k
Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).
Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x
as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3
Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.
Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven.
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Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/
An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.
"Babe! Babe! Babe!"
"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"
"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"
You can guess. In fact, you already have.
Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.
You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.
You wish people would shut up about it.
The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.
You fall into the latter.
You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.
You're not sure you ever want it to happen.
The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.
Not everyone shares the same sentiment.
"Babe, you still there?"
Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.
"Yeah, I'm here."
"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"
You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.
"Sure. I'll see you in ten."
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."
You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.
"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.
The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.
"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"
She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.
"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."
As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.
"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."
"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.
"Like fucking magic."
You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.
"Magic?" you prompt.
"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"
She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.
"So, what's his name? What's he like?"
"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"
"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.
"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."
You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.
"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"
"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."
You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.
"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"
"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."
Jackpot. She's read you like a book.
"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"
"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"
"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"
You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.
"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."
"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."
Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.
"Hi, Mama."
"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."
She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.
"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."
"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."
She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.
"You've poured four, Mama."
"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."
"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."
"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"
She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.
Your Dad's best friend.
They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.
He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.
Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.
She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.
It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.
A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.
Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.
Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.
Might as well make the most of the freedom.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.
"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.
"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.
"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.
"I brought your favourite, Lori."
"So did I," you echo, laughing.
"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"
"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."
"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.
The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.
"Lacie got Tethered."
"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.
"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.
"Tell me about it."
"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."
"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."
"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."
"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."
"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."
"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."
"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."
"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.
And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.
"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.
"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."
You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.
"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."
You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.
"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.
"You got big late night plans?" you tease.
"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."
Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.
"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"
"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."
"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.
You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.
"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.
"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"
They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.
"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.
"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.
"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.
"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.
"Maybe?" he smirks.
"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."
"Like hell you will," he grumbles.
You quirk a brow in confusion.
"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."
You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.
"Why don't we go somewhere?"
"Where?" you ask tentatively.
"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"
You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.
"I fucking love the beach."
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.
The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.
The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.
A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.
"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."
He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.
"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."
Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.
"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."
"And what is this?"
"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."
You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.
"Me too," he whispers.
You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.
"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."
You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.
"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"
He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.
"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."
"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.
"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.
You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.
"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."
You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.
"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"
"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."
He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.
"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.
"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."
"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."
You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.
"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."
"You're the best, sugar."
You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.
"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.
"Nope. You?"
"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"
The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?
"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."
"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.
Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.
"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"
You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.
"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."
He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.
"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."
"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.
"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."
"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.
Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.
"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."
You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.
"Woah, easy. You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.
He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.
And then, it happens.
Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.
Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.
Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.
After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.
You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.
He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.
You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.
He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.
"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.
A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.
"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."
Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.
You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.
You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.
Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.
You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.
A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.
"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."
"My soulmate," you whisper.
The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.
Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.
"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.
He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.
He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.
"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."
"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.
"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."
You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.
You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.
"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.
"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.
He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.
"My honey girl."
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lokisprettyangel · 2 months
Text
heaven
hii !! i just wanted to say thank you real quick for getting my first fic to 200 likes !! im also extremely appreciative to everyone who reposted it, you guys are actually so awesome
summary: just a domestic morning with bucky <3
cw: soo much fluff, pet names, no use of y/n, alpineee !!
wc: 684
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as the sunlight spilled into the room through the cracks in the blinds, you began to stir. opening your eyes, you looked out the window as the snow fell from the sky, making beautiful blankets of white over the tree branches. it was the first snow of winter in new york, and tony had canceled work that day because of the dangerous, icy conditions of the roads.  
speaking of white, a fluffy paw suddenly touched your face, making you turn over in bucky’s vice-like grip to come face-to-face with sweet alpine. 
“hi, baby,” you cooed at the feline, lightly scratching behind her ear, eliciting a soft purring out of her. you closed your eyes and smiled, basking in the warm domesticity you were currently laid in. 
you looked over, feeling a warmth bloom in your heart, and a smile form on your face, watching your boyfriend’s sleeping face, finally at peace. not wanting to disturb his sleep, you tried to sneak out of bucky’s grasp, when he quickly pulled you back in, muttering a soft no, snuggling his face into the back of your neck. 
“bucky, i have to eventually get up,” you said, trying to pull out his grasp once again, when he adjusted to put more of his body weight on you. not to crush you, but just enough to ensure you wouldn’t escape his firm grasp.
“jus’ gimme five more minutes, sugar, please, then we can get up, promise,” bucky's gruff morning voice whispered into your ear, making you shiver with goosebumps. you let out a fake annoyed agreement, giving him the okay to cuddle with you again. you both fell asleep, content in each other’s arms, paying no mind to the brightness filtering into the room, or the fact that five minutes had passed. 
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it was bucky this time who had woken up first, finding both of his girls wrapped around him, with you in his arms, and alpine cuddled up near both your heads’. he smoothed his thumb down your nose, and then your cheek, admiring your beautiful face in pure bliss. he felt a sense of pride inside him, knowing that you allowed yourself to be vulnerable around him. 
he began planting kisses along your face, hoping to gently wake you up. you woke up with a small groan, yawning and stretching, almost hitting alpine. 
“time to wake up, honey,” bucky whispered in your ear before planting a kiss right below it, warranting a giggle out of you that made his heart leap in his chest. he nuzzled his face into your cheek, muttering a soft good morning, baby into your ear. 
“good morning, jamie,” you reached up to plant a sweet kiss on his nose. he smiled at you, moving to get out of bed. 
“d’ya want some breakfast, sweetheart? just lay in bed and ill make you whatever ya want,” he said, planting a sweet kiss on your nose bridge. alpine trotted after him as he left the room, meowing at him to feed her and her mommy. 
feeling too awake to get out of bed, you got up, trailing into the kitchen in your shared apartment, finding bucky frying some eggs on the stove with alpine eating her breakfast right next to him. 
bucky felt a pair of arms wrap around his stomach, immediately feeling himself smile. he turned off the stove and turned around, ducking down a little to hold his girl. 
“thought i told you to stay in bed, doll,” he murmured, planting kisses on your lips. 
“i couldn’t go back to sleep, i missed you too much,” you faux pouted, making him laugh softly at you. he suddenly picked you up, laying you down on the couch right next to alpine. she bumped her head into your arm, purring as you scratched her back.
“now stay here, baby, while i go get your breakfast,” you smiled, watching him move around the kitchen with ease, imagining the rest of your lives together.
a minute later, bucky climbed onto the couch with your breakfast, placing you on his lap so he could feed you.
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masterlist !!
1K notes · View notes
outoftheseine · 3 months
Text
- BUCKY BARNES FIC RECS PART 3 -
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his strut, lord forgive me | some fics might have 18+ content so minors do not interact. | more will be added!
main masterlist | part 1 | part 2
SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS
break free • bucky barnes x fem!reader
↳ by @james-bucky (angst, violence, comfort, smut)
honey girl • dbf!bucky barnes x fem!reader
↳ by @violentdelightsandviolentends (age gap, soulmate au, smut, angst, fluff)
taken • bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @antiquarianfics (angst, violence, kidnapping)
public affair | public display • bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @kaznejis
you are mine, sunshine • grumpy!bodyguard!bucky barnes x sunshine!fem!reader
↳ by @theeleggymeggy
i never thought you'd happen to me | part 2 | part 3 • bucky barnes x curvy!reader
↳ by @nickfowlerrr (slight angst, mostly fluff, smut, luv itt)
against all odds | part 2 • bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @bossbtch1
ONE-SHOTS - HC'S - BLURBS
you found me • bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @samthemarvelfan (slight angst, fluff)
cry baby • bucky barnes x fem!reader
↳ by @buckymorelikefuckme (smut, friends to lovers)
secret injury • bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @lives-in-midgard
the collection • tfatws!bucky barnes x fem!reader
↳ by @theeleggymeggy
better knock • bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @buckysouvenir (flufff, implied smut)
suffocate me with your love • bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @rocketrhap3000 (angst with happy ending, self-esteem problems)
always • bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @nickfowlerrr (angst with happy ending)
contaminated • bucky barnes x agent!reader
↳ by @adrinktostopyourthirst (fluff)
finally • bucky barnes x spy!reader
↳ by @adrinktostopyourthirst (smut, fluff, angst)
curiosity killed the cat • mafia!bucky barnes x fem!reader
↳ by @queers-gambit (angst, kidnapping, mean!bucky)
help me • bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky (angst, bucky's ptsd, comfort)
his everything • bucky barnes x fem!reader
↳ by @likeahorribledream (angst, fluff and insecure bucky)
the way he loves • bucky barnes x widow!reader
↳ by @lovelybarnes (aahh so fluffy so sweet)
patience • grumpy!bucky barnes x sunshine!reader
↳ by @sageandravens
it's called: freefall �� bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @kikixreverie
baking for bucky • bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @itsplumwriter (so fluff, i wish i can bake for bucky too)
wrapped in affection • bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @aikaterini-drag (very fluffy)
the signal • bucky barnes x fem!reader
↳ by @lostgirlmuseum (angst, a misunderstanding)
first time • bucky barnes x gn!reader
↳ by @ivybucky
i was born ready • bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @whatthetumblfck (angst, kidnapping, ptsd?)
babysitting duty • bucky barnes x girlfriend!fem!reader
↳ by @nicoline1998enilocin (fluff)
here's looking at you, kid • boxer!bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @cryonme (angst, violence, tw: abuse)
knight in shining motorcycle • bucky barnes x fem!reader
↳ by @queen-of-the-avengers (almost sa, slight angst, comfort)
verity • bucky barnes x fem!reader
↳ by @cosmicbucky (angst, fluff, friends to lovers)
let it be known • mob!bucky barnes x bf!fem!reader
↳ by @kinanabinks
harvest heart • bucky barnes x fem!reader
↳ by @eloquentreverie (verry fluffy)
860 notes · View notes
cultofcarter · 9 months
Text
Keep the Dr. Away
Bucky x Reader (Y/N) Oneshot
Summary: When Dr. Raynor says some hurtful things about your relationship with Bucky, you fear that your time together might be over sooner than you thought.
Warnings: Angst-ish with a happy ending, sprinkles of fluff, Bucky and reader being extremely in love, Dr. Raynor being a wench
WC: ~2.2k
You were surprised when you got a call from Sam that Bucky had been arrested. He was quick to quell your nerves as he explained Bucky missed one of his mandatory therapy sessions. You knew all about his pardon and Dr. Raynor; more often than not, Bucky came back from those sessions more anxious than when he left for them. While his process of making amends was a challenge, you promised to stay by his side through it all; the good, bad, and the ugly. 
Stepping into the station, you glanced around before seeing Sam giving you a tight lipped smile and a wave. Weaving through the crowd of officers and civilians, you make your way over to the main desk before wrapping Sam in a hug.
“It’s good to see you Birdbrain,” you chuckle before you hear him scoff.
“Oh come on, we’re still sticking with that?” Sam laughs. Before you can retort, an officer comes out of the doorway leading to the interrogation rooms. 
“She’s asked to see you,” he says in your general direction. Sam, looking confused, starts to speak.
“I already -”
“Not you, the girlfriend,” you roll your eyes as you head towards the officer.
“The girlfriend has a name,” you mumble. While making your way down hallways and past windowed rooms, your nerves increase as you don’t see Bucky anywhere. After what felt like an eternity, the officer opened a door, startling both Bucky and an older woman sitting across from him. Before you could even get a word out, Bucky leapt out of his seat and nearly crushed you in a giant hug. You squealed as you felt your feet lifting off the ground.
“Okay, okay, hi to you too!” you laugh. Bucky wastes no time in planting a sweet kiss on your lips.
“Hi baby, I missed you. Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He sets you down as you roll your eyes with a smile.
“Don’t try to charm your way out of this, Barnes. You’re not supposed to be getting into any more trouble,” you tried (and failed miserably) to hide a smile. Bucky chuckles at your attempt to reprimand him, until a grating voice interrupts both of you.
“If you two are finished, I’d like to get at least one productive conversation in today,” you looked around Bucky at the woman still sitting, your cheeks flushed red with the realization you two had company. Bucky sighed heavily and took your hand. He led you to one of the two chairs in the interrogation room, looking at you with his brows furrowed when you let go of his hand. You finally catch his gaze, surprised at the expression you see.
“Buck, you ok?”
“You’re gonna sit there?” you looked around the room hopelessly confused.
“Oh, uh…did you want this chair?” his expression has yet to change.
“Why are you sitting so far away? Do I smell or somethin’?” you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in your throat, scooching the empty chair four inches to the left so the frames are now touching. 
“There, happy now?” Simultaneously, you reach out for each other's hands as Bucky relents and sits next to you. 
“Very,” Bucky beams. Neither of you notice the way Dr. Raynor’s eyes narrow for a brief moment before speaking.
“Actually, James, do you mind giving us a moment? I’d like to speak with Y/N alone.” Bucky nearly gives himself whiplash with how fast he swerves his head.
“Why do you -” before Bucky can finish his thought, you’re interrupting him.
“It’s fine, Buck. We’ll be ok,” you’re nodding at him to try and ease his anxiety, but it’s doing little to calm his racing heart. He leans in to give you one last kiss before holding your head between his palms. 
“I’ll be right outside, ok sweetheart?” you nood again as he gives a final glare to Dr. Raynor, who seems unphased. “I love you,” he reminds you sweetly.
“Love you, too.” You both can’t help the dopey grins on your faces as you don’t turn back until Bucky is completely out of the room. When you face Dr. Raynor, you immediately drop your smile. Her gaze gives nothing away as you both wait for someone to say something.
“So,” Dr. Raynor relents. “I’m sure you already know who I am. Let’s skip the formalities. Why don’t you tell me a little bit about James? He doesn’t bring you up much during our sessions, so I’m happy to see you actually exist,” She fakes a smile, her tone indicating she knows she’s pushing the right buttons. You know for a fact that’s a lie; even though therapy exhausts him, Bucky always mentions a story or two that he brought up. It was mostly his way to avoid Dr. Raynor’s questions about himself, but you thought it was cute regardless.
“Nice try,” you scoffed back. “Maybe if you actually cared about helping him, he would trust you enough to open up.” Dr. Raynor bites her bottom lip, her eyes shifting back and forth as an internal debate stops as quickly as it starts.
“You want to know what I do know about James?” She leans forward with her elbows on the table. “I know that this relationship with you is going to end up hurting him in his recovery.” You’re clearly taken aback as your eyes widen and your mouth slacks open. 
“What are you -”
“I know that you were completely inseparable while he was in Bucharest, then again once you made it to Wakanda, and now here, post-blip.” Dr. Raynor interrupts. “It’s not healthy, it borders on codependency.” At this point, you are fuming, but you’re still trying to hold your emotions back. You don’t want to risk Bucky being dealt the consequences of your potential outburst. 
“How is that different from any other romantic relationship? Of course we spend time together! God forbid that we actually love each other! How does that hinder his recovery?”
“Because you’re not ‘any other romantic relationship,’ are you?” Dr. Raynor leans back in her seat. “You’re in a relationship with someone who was a prisoner of war and has a lot of amends to make. How can he heal from his past if it’s always right next to him?”
“You…you think that I -”
“I believe you could be a constant reminder to James about his past. You met him when he was still considered the Soldier; when he was on the run and had no one to help him. He attached himself to the first person who showed him a sliver of kindness and now he doesn’t know how to function without you. James doesn’t have any other close relationships and I believe he’s not going to make the effort as long as he has you.” You’ve heard enough. You take a deep breath, looking at Dr. Raynor directly in the eye as you gather the right words. 
“Let me make something perfectly clear, Doc. I don’t give a shit what you think. Not about me, or Bucky, and ESPECIALLY about our relationship. You can’t even give him the basic decency of calling him by his preferred name, so forgive me if I think your opinions are worthless.” You slide your chair back aggressively and start to exit the room.
“At least give him a chance,” Dr. Raynor called out, stopping you in your tracks. “He deserves an out if he wants one.” You thought nothing else coming out of her mouth would shock you, but that was absolutely the last straw. Slamming open the door of the interrogation room, you’re escorted by an officer back to the lobby of the station.
The ride home was eerily silent. Bucky kept tossing glances your way but you kept your gaze out the window, ruminating on what Dr. Raynor had confided in you. Were you really hurting Bucky that badly? Did letting go of his past mean letting you go too? Before you knew it, Sam had pulled up in front of your apartment building and put the car in park. You got out of the backseat not even looking to see if Bucky was following behind you. Sam and Bucky shared a combined look of worry and confusion.
“Alright, that was the most awkward car ride of my life. What’s going on with you guys?” Sam inquired.
“Not sure,” Bucky grumbled, walking into the building. “Thanks again for the ride.” he tosses behind him as he makes his way up the stairs and into your living room. The sight before him nearly made Bucky’s knees crumble. You were in tears on the couch, eyes already bloodshot and hugging a pillow to your chest. Bucky quickly made his way around to you and immediately tried to console you.
“Hey hey hey, baby what’s wrong?” he asked gently. He tried to grab the pillow from you, only for you to throw it on the ground and lunge forward, hugging your arms around his neck while Bucky’s went around your torso. You couldn’t help the sobs slipping through as you held him. Bucky felt completely helpless hearing your cries, but he knew you’d talk when you were ready. Slowly, you released him from your grasp and sighed, Bucky keeping his hands on your body to ground you. He searched your eyes to try and figure out why you felt this way, but you refused to make eye contact until you spoke.
“Am I…am I holding you back?” your voice wavered as you asked. “Because you don’t owe me anything, you know? I know we’ve been together for a long time and it hasn’t exactly been the easiest, but I just…I just want you to know that you don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to.” Bucky’s brows furrowed and jaw clenched as he realized why you were asking.
“What did she say?” he asked, bringing his right hand to rest on your cheek.
“Who?” you tried feigning innocence, but that only earned you with an eye roll. 
“You know who. What did Dr. Raynor say to you?” you shifted on the couch as you took both of Bucky’s hands in yours and rubbed circles with your thumbs to calm down.
“She…she thinks I might be hindering your recovery,” Bucky’s expression softened as you desperately tried to steady your voice. “She said she feels like our relationship might be keeping you stuck in the past and you might not ever move on if you stay with me.” Bucky hummed in acknowledgement, letting go of your limp hands and running his metal hand down his face.
“Stuck in the past…” he sighs. Bucky looked over at you, scrunching his mouth to the side while you remained teary-eyed and hopelessly confused. “Well then, she’s really gonna hate this.” Bucky makes his way over to your bookshelf, digging around until he pulls something out with a small smile. Walking back over, Bucky reveals a small blue velvet box.
“Bucky is…is that-”
“I had Steve make a quick pit stop for me,” he chuckled. “If I had it my way, I would’ve gotten down on one knee the first time you gave me flowers in Bucharest.” Bucky sits as close as he possibly can to you on the couch. Tears threaten to flood over his lash line as he opens the box revealing something you had only seen in pictures; his mother’s wedding ring.
“I love you so much. I don’t care about what anyone else has to say about it. I’ve waited my entire life for you and I don’t plan on screwing that up. I know we’ve only talked a little bit about marriage, but I wanted you to see that whenever you’re ready, I am too.” Your tears continue to flow, now for an entirely different reason. You grab Bucky and try to relay all the passion and love you have for him as you kiss him. When you both need a second to breathe, you can’t help but smile against his lips.
“I love you too, Bucky. I always will,” Bucky doesn’t realize his tears escaped until he feels your thumbs wipe them off his cheeks. “I am more than ready if that’s even possible. So when you want to ask me, I’ll say yes.” Bucky shifts off the couch, getting down on one knee as you grab hold of his free hand. 
“Y/N, will you…” before Bucky can finish his sentence, your phone buzzes with an obscenely loud ringtone. Running to grab it from your purse, you roll your eyes as you answer.
“Sam, we’re a little busy right now,” Bucky groans loud enough for Sam to hear. You giggle at Bucky’s exasperation and Sam cuts in.
“He finally asked you! Oh this is great, we can start -” Bucky pries your phone from your hand.
“Unless the world is ending again, do not call either of us again, Samuel!” he yells. Bucky hangs up and shoves it back in your purse. You cackle when he practically chucks it in your shared bedroom before scooping you up in his arms. 
“Ok, let’s try this again.” Bucky giggles. If it meant getting more sweet moments like this, you’d let Bucky propose a hundred times over.
3K notes · View notes
lovelybarnes · 1 year
Text
Flirting and Football- B. Barnes
Pairings: bucky barnes x reader Warnings: past assault of reader, as slow burn as i can, au so bucky is different although i tried to not make him so ooc, sort of enemies to lovers?, genuinely can’t remember anymore, crappy writing in the beginning because i started writing this a year ago but i swear it gets better i promise About: request!! Bucky barnes and a college au where reader is the only one who isn’t interested in him basically
The end of your pen rests between your lips, unused as you scan the textbook page in front of you, your eyes thinning occasionally as you read. Your study partner’s book lays open in front of her, ten pages behind, and notebook adorned with two sole words.
She’s reciting the events of a date she went on yesterday or the day before, although admittedly, you’d only caught detached words for the past double-digit minutes. Your careful attention had dwindled down to nods as you subtly tapped at your notebook, then not-so-subtly and finally disappeared altogether as you made miscellaneous noises. 
You hum along now, eyes flickering from your notes to the material as you annotate pages with bright sticky notes.
She doesn’t seem to notice your disinterest, gushing about arms and hair, and the kiss that changed her life. The words don’t last too long in your mind, too cluttered with equations and vocabulary to make space for them.
“The girls told me he goes on a lot of dates but I can just tell I’m the one.”
You glance at your open computer, frowning at the slimming battery life, and purse your lips at the time. Sighing softly, you meet Quinn’s glazed eyes, offering her a tight smile you hope is somewhat believable.
“Is he in psychology too?” you ask, tapping on the notes the both of you were supposed to start when she began talking.
“Bucky? Oh no,” she laughs, the finger twirling her red hair pulling away to wave her hand dismissively. “He’s in sports or something. He's on the soccer team, you know.”
You nod. “Wow.”
“I know, oh my god.” She fans herself. “Did I tell you he basically won the last game?”
Probably. You duck your chin, highlighting a sentence. “Isn’t it a group effort?”
Quinn rolls her eyes. “Well, yeah, but he scored the winning goal.”
“Okay then,” you agree, deciding that you can finish your notes at your dorm. “I didn’t go to the last game, so what do I know?”
Quinn’s eyes go wide. “You didn’t go?” she exclaims, and you shush her, confirming. “Why?”
You shrug. “I had to do something.”
“You have to go to the next one tomorrow and see him in action. But don’t fall in love,” she warns with a giggle. “He’s mine.”
“Promise,” you reply hollowly, shutting your laptop. “Well, I have to go. This was helpful, though,” you lie.
“Oh, yeah, totally. I have to go too, rest up for the big game tomorrow. Gotta be there early to support Bucky,” Quinn informs. You stack your books to carry them back to your dorm.
“Right,” you respond, standing. “I hope everything goes well with him,” you say as you walk out.
She shoots you a big grin and a nod, her face bright as she agrees.
It’s cold when you step through the doors, bouncing on your feet and hugging your things closer to your chest as you begin to walk toward your dorm. You move to pull out your phone from your back pocket, quickly unlocking it to get to your contacts list. You press on Bruce’s contact and listen to the two beeps until he picks up.
“I hate you so much right now,” you greet, cutting his cheery hello off.
“What? What did I do?”
“‘I’ll be there!’ ‘How could I miss studying physics?’” you mock, imitating his voice. “You left me there, and I was stuck listening to Quinn's monologue about how the quarterback or whatever is the love of her life!”
“What quarterback?” Bruce asks.
“Does it matter? Honestly?” you rebut, taking care to watch your surroundings as you bully your friend. “Your quarterback wouldn’t cheat on you so I’m assuming it’s one that’s not Thor.”
“Okay, okay, I know. I’m sorry about ditching you. Thor and I just finished, we can come by and pick you up at the library. And Thor is a defender. Different sport entirely.”
“Whatever and ew,” you complain. “And I’m already on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“What? I told you to not walk home alone. Just wait for me.”
“Don’t worry. The dorm isn’t that far and you’re not exactly the most threatening anyway,” you remind. “I’ll be fine. ”
“Fine. Keep me on the line and be careful,” Bruce tells you.
“Of course,” you quip. A pause drapes over the two of you, the silence only interrupted by the steady sound of your footsteps on the concrete. You turn, leaves crunching underneath your shoes and you can practically hear Bruce relax somewhat, knowing that you’re nearby. You put him on speaker to hear better. “How’d it go with Thor today?”
“Really good.” The golden thread of happiness threaded through Bruce’s words comes through clear and clean. You can imagine him as he talks into the phone, glancing at Thor to make sure he can’t hear as he plays with his fingers. “I’m really sorry for leaving you there.”
“You’re not,” you amend. “But it’s fine. I’m glad you’re happy.”
“I am,” Bruce confirms.
“I don’t know how you find the time to juggle everything. It’s kind of terrifying,” you laugh, expecting him to tease you back, but his answer comes back honest.
“I know you think of boyfriends and whatever as distractions, but it’s the opposite. It’s not juggling if I have help carrying everything.”
You push your tongue against your cheek, listening to the rustling of the trees. You grab your keys as you arrive at your dorm door. “I’m here.”
“Finally.” You roll your eyes, opening the door to see your roommate and her brother inside.
“Hey Wanda, Piet.”
Wanda smiles at you and Pietro winks before greeting Bruce through your phone.
“Okay, Bruce, are we studying tomorrow?” you ask him, balancing your things in your arms. When Pietro notices, he stands, taking your books from you and setting them down on your table. You thank him and pat his arm.
“Before the game? Sure,” he replies. You take him off speaker, pulling your phone to your ear, not noticing that the mention of the game has caught Pietro and Wanda's attention.
“You’re going?” you question. “I thought Thor was benched.”
“He’s off!” There’s a whoop you recognize as Thor’s that makes you smile. “Which is why it’s an important game we need to go to.”
“We?” you echo.
“We as in you and I,” Bruce verifies.
“Wait, I have to go too? Why?” you whine.
Pietro cuts in, “You have to go! How will we win without our lucky charm?”
You purse your lips and squint at him. “Didn’t you guys win last game?”
“Still! Come on, please,” he insists. Wanda joins in, offering to bake you cookies.
You search your brain for excuses. “I have things to do.”
“If it’s not ‘stay home and binge a series,’ I'll let you skip,” Bruce chimes.
You frown as the siblings grin.
“Yeah, you’re going,” Bruce declares. “They’re not that bad and you know it. Besides, Thor wants you to braid his hair. You know my fingers always get tangled.”
“Fine,” you sigh dramatically. “But I want it noted that it’s only because I really like cookies.” You focus on Wanda, who nods enthusiastically. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Bruce repeats your words before you hang up, and at the click, you let yourself fall on your couch.
Wanda kisses your head and pats your shoulder comfortingly. “It’s going to be fun.”
“Standing in the middle of students I don’t know as they yell at a ball does not sound fun to me,” you disagree, but she ignores you.
“Even Vis is going,” she argues. “And you know how excited Thor gets when you braid his hair.”
You mutter incoherently.
“We’ll leave at three,” she instructs with a smile.
-
“I could be doing so many useful things right now,” you hiss at Bruce, remembering the half-written essay you have saved on your laptop, a string of frustratedly typed letters highlighted and waiting to be replaced with something coherent typed just beneath it.
Bruce had made you leave just as you began to taste the word you were looking for, assuring you that going out to see a game would somehow give your fried mind the jolt it needed. With little argument and the promise you’d committed to with a hook of your pinkie, you’d sighed and shut your laptop, leaving your apartment early to see the team before the game.
You could recognize some faces thanks to Pietro forcing you out to a few team celebrations and the occasional game you never paid much attention to. Although he’d laid off a while ago when Bruce and Thor started dating, your best friend had dragged you to every soccer-related event he didn’t want to go to alone. Pietro never minded your absence as much as Bruce did, always satisfied as long as you celebrated or consoled him afterward.
The word you’d been wracking your brain for suddenly comes to mind when you sit next to Bruce on a bench, pulling your phone out of your pocket to note it down, not noticing when the entire soccer team begins to leave the locker room, spilling into the hall where you’re slumped with your best friend.
Thor bellows your name excitedly when he spots you both, heading over. You glance up to give him a smile, quickly continuing to type the stray thoughts you’d been trying to catch when he turns, an extravagant arm extending as if to present you to the few guys with him. “This is the lovely lady I told you all about. She is very smart.”
You laugh at his introduction, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “Thank you, Thor.”
“Of course! And you all know Bruce, of course.”
There are chimes of agreement and greetings for your friend, a few of the players coming up to you. Pietro arrives first, as always, and pecks your forehead. “I, for one, am very glad you came to cheer us on.”
“We’ve heard a lot about you,” another says, huge and blonde, but his features are softened by an open grin. “I’m Steve.” He juts a finger at the brunet next to him, his hair tied up into a neat little bun at the nape of his neck, blue eyes shining as they observe you. “That’s Bucky.”
You smile at them, nodding. “Nice to meet you. I’ve actually heard a lot.”
Bucky raises an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. “Really?”
You stare at him blankly, opening and closing your mouth like a fish. “I meant Steve.” Steve looks startled. “I saw his work when I was volunteering at the art show last month. It was great, I actually bought the piece with the lilies!”
“Oh.” Bucky blinks blankly, tongue poking into his cheek before he clears his throat and manages a lift of the left edge of his lips. “‘Makes sense someone so pretty would have good taste.”
You stare silently at him for a second, relieved when Steve’s surprise takes a second to process.
“Wait, me?” Steve points stupidly at himself. “My art?”
“It was amazing, I couldn’t let it slip by!”
“I told you,” Bucky tells him, elbowing his arm. He, unlike the other players, wears a dark sleeve over the entirety of his left arm, all the way up to his fingers. His fingertips, jagged pink, peek out. “I wish you woulda let me go. I could’ve seen the art and met her sooner.”
His friend sends him a furtive glance. “Is this your first time coming to a game?” Steve wonders as he turns back to you. 
You shake your head. “Pietro is my roommate’s brother and Thor’s my best friend’s boyfriend. They drag me here when they feel like it, but it’s my first time being back here.” You gesture to the hall. “I’m usually a little late because Bruce drives like a grandmother.”
Bruce sighs, sending you a short glance that you respond to with a gentle nudge of his shoulder.
Blue eyes nods, careful to give you his full attention. “Well, I think you should come around more often.”
You scan him for a second. “Why?” you ask genuinely.
He pauses as he begins to explain, eyes pinched in confusion before Thor’s booming voice cuts him off, reminding you that you need to braid his hair. You give them a final smile before standing. “Duty calls, I guess.”
“So you’ll come around?” He calls after you, frowning when you respond with a transparent smile and ingenuine thumbs up. “Huh,” he says.
“What?” Steve responds, a little slowly, knowingly. He knows well what is making Bucky’s features crease in that way, but he’d prefer hearing it from his friend’s mouth.
“Just… wondering why I’d never seen her before. Pretty.”
“Uh huh.” Steve nods disbelievingly. Knowing he isn’t going to be able to push it out of his friend, he begins to walk toward the field, not waiting up for Bucky, the man caught up in his thoughts. “‘Thought it was because the line didn’t work,” he finally tells him, catching Bucky’s attention.
“What’re you talkin’ about, punk? What line?”
Steve snickers. “Any of ‘em.”
-
The next time Bucky sees you is across the courtyard, arms wrapped around books, your fingers curved protectively around the edges of your laptop. You struggle as you talk to someone he recognizes, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet as you reach to brush strands of hair away from your eyes.
Why you don’t have a backpack like every other person is beyond him, but it’s the last thing on his mind when your eyes meet his and you smile and wave. Yeah, he knows how to handle this—the attention, the blushing, the flattery.
The hand he raises to wave back freezes awkwardly when he realizes your attention isn’t on him, but rather following something behind his shoulder. His hand lowers as he feels Pietro brush past him and over to you, Wanda following close by. She catches Bucky’s actions and sends him an amused look.
You accept the kiss Pietro drops on your forehead and greet Wanda excitedly, too busy chatting with her to notice the two pens that slip from your pile.
Bucky sniffs, tugging his varsity jacket tighter and deciding to embrace his mistake, walks over to you.
“Hey,” he greets, your name coming out like silk, shooting you a smile. He bends down to pick up your pens, handing them to you with a cajoling rise of his lips.
You return it a pause later. “Hey, um—thanks…” you struggle for a second before you’re cut off.
“Bucky!” the classmate that you were talking to exclaims, and Bucky realizes it’s Quinn, the girl he’d gone out on a date with a while ago. “I saw you on the field yesterday,” she tells him, twirling a strand of red hair around her finger. “You were amazing.”
“I appreciate it,” he thanks her, his eyes flickering back to you for a second, spotting you beginning to step away with a short wave and an elbow to Wanda's side. “I should go, I needed to talk to her,” he starts, acting quickly. “But it was nice to see you again. You look great, I like your necklace.”
Quinn’s fingers reach to pinch at the pendant on her chain, tilting her head at Bucky as she beams. “Thank you!”
Bucky nods, turning to find you gone. He looks around, surprised, but finally catches sight of you turning a corner with your friends. Before he can head toward you, Quinn catches his arm.
“Aren’t you going to ask me out again?” She smiles at him, eyes wide and shiny.
He winces, forcing himself to not glance back at you. “You’re a really great girl, Quinn, but I don’t think we’d work out. I’m sorry.”
“Oh,” Quinn says quietly, not returning the apologetic smile he sends her. He twists his lips and apologizes again before jogging over to you, slowing to match your pace when he finally catches up.
“Hey again,” he quips, offering you a smile. You return it kindly, twirling your pens between your fingers.
“Hey, Bucky.” Probably accidentally, you enunciate his name in a way that makes him realize you didn’t remember it when he came up to you earlier, and he bites back an embarrassed blush. “It was a good game yesterday.”
“Thank you,” he replies easily. “How was I?”
You cock your head at him. “Fine? You… were a soccer player.”
Pietro laughs, pulling you closer. “He’s asking if he lived up to the stories,” he clarifies, shooting Bucky a look. “‘Does another pretty girl think I’m great too?’” he mocks, the imitation edged in his accent.
You hum in understanding, turning back to Bucky. “Stories?” you echo. Your features bear no likeness to the pull Bucky is used to with girls, nothing implying the agreement or validation he’s usually welcomed with.
“Oh, you know,” Bucky starts with a nonchalant shrug, “of the ‘insane stamina’ and ‘could totally carry a bus’ variety. You know, the ‘Winter Soldier’ name.”
Your eyebrows raise. “‘Winter Soldier?’” you repeat, words bolded in an unconscious drama.
“’S my nickname,” Bucky explains sheepishly. You continue to stare at him for a second before cracking a smile.
“Bucky Barnes, right?” you ask him. He pushes his tongue against his cheek at the blow to his ego and nods. “Which one were you again? All the uniforms are the same, I can only recognize Thor and Piet.”
Pietro hoots. “Fifteen, baby!”
Bucky eyes you, his cheeks pulling with an amused lilt. “You wound me, doll.”
“I wound you?” you giggle, unable to help it. “This is our first conversation and I have the power to wound you. I don’t know how I feel about having this power over a stranger.”
Bucky gasps, reaching out to grab your hand with his ungloved hand and wrap it around an invisible knife to plunge it into his chest. He chokes as he mimes nursing his wound. “Just digging it in deeper, aren’t you? Vixen.”
“Oh, come on, you expect me to have learned your number after knowing you for five minutes?” you exclaim with mild indignance, a whisper of amusement betraying it. You click your tongue. “You were fine, I’m sure,” you respond finally. Wanda jabs an elbow into your arm and whispers something to you. Your eyes light up. “Oh, you’re seventeen! The ball hogger! You do realize you’re in a team, right?”
Pietro claps, nodding approvingly at you. “And me, little flower?”
You roll your eyes. “You were fast. Like always.”
“That’s code for ‘the best out there,’” Pietro tells Bucky.
“I think the code for that is Bucky Barnes,” Bucky retorts, turning back to you. “‘Got a favorite player yet?” He asks you.
You tilt a brow at him. “On the soccer team?”
“Yeah,” Bucky confirms.
“Based off of what?” You counter.
“Anything.”
“Oh.” You think. “Then no.”
Pietro clears his throat loudly.
“What if I get you the best seat possible next game?” Bucky offers.
You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m good where I am.”
“She barely pays attention anyway,” Wanda informs. “All she does is complain.”
You nod. “And I can do that in any seat.”
“Alright… what if you wear my jersey at the next game?” Bucky continues.
You raise an eyebrow. “And you’re convincing me, right?”
“You should be swooning right now,” Bucky argues accusingly, but his words are tinged with a grin.
“Oh, my bad,” you deadpan, placing a hand on your chest and rocking on your heels. You flutter your lashes at him and melt your lips into a watery smile. “Oh my, golly! Benson’s sweaty jersey!”
“Bucky,” Bucky grumbles. “Bucky’s sweaty jersey.”
“Right,” you reply with an attentive nod, laughing quietly. Your attention is drawn by another building and you turn. “I gotta go, but please keep the jersey far away from me.” You point at Bucky and then wave at Wanda and Pietro. “I’ll see you guys around.”
“Me too!” Bucky shouts after you. You only reply with a thumbs up Bucky can tell is sarcastic even if he can’t see your face, slipping past a closing door. Bucky purses his lips, looking after you. “Huh.”
A hand slaps down on his shoulder, and Pietro's laughter bubbles from behind him. “Nice work,” he lies.
-
Entirely suddenly, your mind feels vignetted with inky stress. You suppose it was predictable, having ignored the weight your responsibilities had lain on your shoulders for as long as you had, but it’s exhausting nonetheless. You blink slowly at your document in a lousy attempt to soothe yourself, feeling as though you were staring at it through a tunnel.
You yawn as you splay yourself out on your bed, stretching your legs out as far as you can. Your fingertips brush your pillows as you let your eyelids fall closed for just a second, thoughts and reminders of the rest of the things you need to do lining your entrance to sleep, but the door is so inviting, the red tape of your to-do list blurring.
Your ringtone cuts in when you begin to reason with yourself, back straightening fast enough to give you whiplash when you open your eyes again. Your hand slams around your phone, blinking fast as you read Bruce’s contact name.
“The thing,” you mumble, remembering Bruce’s insistence that you went to something. You answer his call and fight to not let yourself fall back on your bed, free fingers moving to rub at your temple.
“Hey, are you ready?” Bruce asks, the sounds of conversation in the background.
“Sure,” you answer tiredly, looking down at yourself. Whoever it is you’re going out with can’t be too picky. “Ready for what again?”
“The team’s win? We’re going out to eat at an actual restaurant and everything.”
You purse your lips. “Are we going to a bar?”
There’s a moment of silence on his end, only highlighted by the muffled voices that converse. “...No.”
Nodding earnestly, you stand, stretching and shaking your limbs out in an attempt to wake yourself up, but the attempt is mocked when you yawn once again. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and wince, tilting your chin up to get another angle. “Then, yes, I’m ready. I guess.”
“That's great!” Bruce praises. “Because we are outside.”
You frown, grabbing a hair tie from your dresser before walking out of your room, surprised to see your apartment empty. “We?” you repeat as you look around, confused. “Are Wan and Pietro with you?”
“They’re probably already there. And ‘we’ as in I picked up Thor, Steve, and Bucky.”
You grunt in response, shutting off the lights and plucking your keys from the counter before locking up.
“You know Bucky. He’s not that bad.”
There are sounds of protest and you catch an offended ‘that bad?’ before you hang up, waving to Bruce’s car. The door to the back opens before you can touch the handle, a grinning face and shiny blue eyes welcoming you. “Hey, doll, you look great.”
“Bunny,” you greet, ducking your chin in a nod. Bucky gets out of the car, extending a hand to invite you inside.
“I don’t mind that one.” Bucky winks.
You shake your head, crawling inside and saying hi to Steve, nose wrinkling when you realize you’ll be sandwiched between the two guys, and turning when you notice Bucky getting in again. You tug on your seatbelt with a polite smile to Steve, bumping into hard muscle when you aim for the buckle.
“You tryna cop a feel? Could’ve just asked,” Bucky tells you, bumping you gently.
“Oh please,” you scoff, poking him with the metal thing. “Excuse me, seatbelt. Bruce isn’t that great of a driver. He’s in his twenties and gets night blindness.”
Bucky pats your hand gently and takes the belt from you, clicking it into place for you.
“Nice and safe, don’t worry, doll.”
You set your lips into a thin line and look straight ahead, pushing your phone into the space between your thighs so you don’t lose it. “How’d you do on your Norse mythology exam, Thor?” you ask, recalling the nerves with which he’d told you about it a couple of days ago.
“Wonderful! I really enjoy the subject. Thank you for helping me study,” Thor replies cheerily.
“You didn’t even need to,” you assure, stifling a yawn. Bucky frowns.
“Did you get some sleep?” Bruce wonders, eyeing you at a red light.
“Yeah, I drank some coffee,” you respond.
“Not the same thing. Not even close.”
You laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you promise. “Stop worrying.”
“I’m always worried,” Bruce grumbles.
“Hey, how was art today?” you ask Steve, nudging his arm gently. Bucky’s brows furrow, urging Steve to look at him and read his mind with an intense stare. Steve does not.
“You were right. I was being too judgemental,” Steve sighs. “I should’ve listened to you.”
“Listened to who?” Bucky buts in. “How did you know Stevie had art today?” he continues, trying to keep his tone light.
“We talk.” You shrug. 
“Oh,” Bucky starts, glaring at Steve. “Do you?”
“Yes.” You nod before actually yawning that time. “I’m sorry.”
“You should sleep more,” Bucky comments, watching you shake your head wearily.
“I have things to do,” you defend. “I sleep enough, it’s the stupid car ride, I always fall asleep in cars,” you defend. “But if it pleases you, I’ll sleep the entirety of tomorrow.” Your voice lacks the thick sleeve of satire you tend to use with him, more vulnerable in your exhaustion. Although your request is still sarcastic, Bucky can tell you know you need it.
“It will,” Bucky says.
For the most part, the conversation ends there, the group splitting into their own things during the car ride. After a few minutes, Bucky feels your head fall softly on his shoulder.
He stops paying attention to what Thor is saying, instead focusing on the way you edge toward him in your sleep, nudging your nose into his shoulder. He can see the way your lashes lay on your cheeks when you’re so close and the pretty bridge of your nose.
You’re more open than he’s ever seen you, eyes shut and lips parted with gentle breaths, and he can’t stop staring at you.
Then the car goes over a harsh bump, and Bucky wants to do everything he can to hold you still, but your eyes flutter open and you sit up, meeting his eyes for a second. “Sorry.”
“It's no problem,” Bucky assures, wanting to keep examining the lines of your face, but you clear your throat, looking forward, and Bucky has no choice but to do so too.
-
The surprise Bucky feels when he spots you at the celebration party is no match for the sweet excitement at the bottom of his stomach, immediately pulling his sleeve further down over his arm and brushing away loose strands of his hair. It would be embarrassing how much he cares about what you think of him if it weren’t so ridiculously important to him.
He busies himself with getting a drink for you, finding himself wondering if you’d come before, only to go unnoticed by him. There’s a startling burst of anger at himself with the thought, and Bucky blinks, eyes continuing to drift to you. Resolute, he moves toward you but pauses as he observes you.
The look on your face is one Bucky has never seen before—though he hasn’t seen many looks on your face before—but it settles so naturally on your features that it is difficult to argue that it’s unfamiliar. You look intense, but the way your eyes scan Wanda's boyfriend—who’s been dubbed Vision—is dangerous. Cocky.
You say something and your entire face relaxes resolutely, but your eyes remain expectant and arrogant, unamused with your companion’s reply.
Vision—who Bucky has heard is never wrong—sure seems wrong in whatever argument he’s just lost against you, and you know it.
“How’re my favorite geniuses?” Wanda pipes up suddenly, forcing Bucky’s daze away, appearing from an unknown place to sling an arm around you. You snap out of the look, your face softening, but the pleasure of being right dances across your features. Bucky clears his throat and takes a sip from his beer, stepping toward you.
“Oh, you know, out-geniusing the other,” you reply, glancing at Bucky as he walks up behind Vision.
“Hey Dolly,” he smiles. “I thought you had too many books to read to go out.”
“I finished them all,” you respond. “And ‘Dolly’? How old are you?”
Bucky clicks his tongue. “What would you prefer, sweetheart?”
“My name,” you state, then squint at him, cocking your head. “Do you remember it? I imagine it’s hard to keep track.”
“Of course I remember.” Bucky scoffs. “I don’t think I could forget.”
You breathe out a laugh. “Right, I’d imagine asking her out to swing dance without it would be pretty hard.”
“Are you asking me to swing dance with you?” Bucky retorts.
You snort. “Yeah, sure.”
Bucky holds out his hand expectantly, covered arm at his side.
Your eyes thin resolutely at him, scrutinizing the details of his face before you shake your head. “You’re ridiculous,” you criticise.
His hand drops and he pouts. “C’mon, pretty please.”
“Do you know what music you swing dance to?” you ask him, wagging a finger to refer to the booming music drowning most sounds inside the house. “Because this isn’t it.”
“I need to take advantage of the fact that you’re here, doll. You said so yourself you don’t go out much,” he complains. 
“Yeah, this is why!” you reply, your last words getting louder as the music impossibly gains volume.
“What?!” Bucky shouts, moving closer to hear you better, but you laugh and shake your head, telling him something he can’t make out. When you realize he can’t hear you, you give him a pout.
“And I was just about to say yes,” you say sadly.
“Wha—” Bucky’s cut off by the sharp shattering of glass. With a cringe, your eyes widen as you look behind him, eyes flickering back to him expectantly. He turns and groans. “I have to check that out. I’ll be right back!” he pledges, walking away to see a deadly amount of broken alcohol bottles on the floor, the stench of their contents burning his nose.
When he comes back, you’re gone.
The disappointment that blankets over his shoulders at the fact is just as surprising to him.
-
You’re in your bubble at the library, a little clueless to everything going on around you as you thumb the corner of a page, your pinky hovering below your book’s cover. You’re a few pages away from something exciting, teeth digging in with anticipation for it, when someone enters your field of vision, a large figure plopping down on a seat in front of you.
You spare them a glance and are surprised to find Bucky, sporting a large grin and his varsity jacket. You observe him suspiciously for a few moments, having never seen him even near the library, before returning your attention to what you’re reading.
“So, you’re actually here, huh?” he asks, and you shush him, shooting him a look to lower his voice. “Sorry.”
“Why are you here?” you question lowly instead, still not putting down your book.
“Anyone can come to the library.” Bucky points out, your name playfully scornful. You level a look at him.
“Yes. Why are you here? With me? You didn’t know my name until, like, two days ago.” You’re careful to keep your voice down.
“First of all,” Bucky starts, beginning to list off his fingers. “We met two weeks and three days ago.”
“Did we?” you drone, attempting to concentrate on the lines of your book once more.
“And, how do you know we don’t just have alternating study days?” Bucky points out.
“I am here every day,” you inform. “And if that were the case, why would you be here right now?” you rebut. “What would you be studying for? Coaching?”
“Maybe I wanted to switch things up,” Bucky defends. “And I’m not studying coaching. I’m studying biomedical engineering.”
You meet his eyes at the revelation, unable to keep the surprise off your face. You fold down the edge of the last page you read offhandedly and let your book flutter closed. “What? Quinn said you were in… sports.”
“Well,” Bucky sucks in a breath as if what he’s about to tell you is a revelation. “Soccer is a sport.”
“I know,” you affirm blandly. “But are you actually in biomedical?”
“Yeah,” Bucky nods. “What, do you not believe me?” he asks, raising a gloved hand to his chest. “I must say, I’m very disappointed in you perpetuating harmful stereotypes.”
“I’m just surprised. You’ve never talked about it before.”
“We’ve talked four times,” Bucky points out. “Although I want it clear that I have tried to make it more.”
“Yeah, what’s that about, by the wayt?” you wonder, setting your elbows on the table and dropping your face into your hands, cocking your head at him. “From what I’ve seen, you have your fair pick of girls and guys.”
“I wouldn’t say that—”
You laugh quietly. “Sure.”
“But I like you,” Bucky explains, shrugging. “You’re smart and pretty and you interest me.”
You scan his face, squinting. Astonishment tints your chuckle. “You are so much better at this than I thought you were.”
“Sorry?”
“At first, I was like ‘this guy? This is the Becky people won’t shut up about?’”
“Bucky,” he corrects swiftly.
“But I see it now. The charm. I’m not falling for it, but I see it.” You nod appreciatively and open your book once again to continue reading.
Bucky frowns in front of you, reaching over to insert an abrupt hand in between the pages. “What are you talking about?”
Sighing, you peel his fingers off the pages and meet his eyes, startled to see their intensity, crinkles at their edges, his lips pinched in a pout. You gasp. “Oh my god, you’re doing it now.”
“Sweetheart, it’s something that just happens naturally, I’m not doing anything.”
You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head, turning back to your book. “You are insufferable.”
“And you’re beautiful.”
“And you’re ridiculous.”
“Go out with me, c’mon,” Bucky urges, smiling now. It’s stupidly sweet.
You click your tongue. “Dates are a waste of time.”
“I’ll make it worth it. Promise.”
“I don’t have time to go out with guys I’ve talked to four times,” you explain.
“Alright, so if I talk to you more, you’ll go out with me?”
You wrinkle your nose. “I don’t… I’m not liking where this is going.”
“I will talk to you every single day from now on,” Bucky vows.
“Oh, I was right,” you groan. “I just mean you don’t know me. My favorite color, my favorite book, my order at my favorite restaurant, things like that.”
“I will know all of that,” he pledges.
You laugh disbelievingly. “Okay, Borky.”
A cocky little smirk plays on his lips as he winks. “Bucky,” he says archly.
-
You learn his name. Completely. Totally. Unmistakably. 
It’s hard not to, not when he becomes a constant in your life and not with a name like that.
James Buchanan Barnes. It rolls off your tongue too nicely all of a sudden.
He talks to you every day. Just like he said he would, even if it’s a two-minute conversation over text where he makes sure you get home safe and asks about your day. It would be overwhelming if it didn’t make you smile so much.
He doesn’t get upset when you answer two hours later because you were distracted with work, asking you how Linda the librarian was and if she liked the cookie he got her three days ago.
You relay her enthusiastic message, deciding to brush over the wink and coy smile she sent you at his mention. Then maybe, because you’re finished with your work for the day, you shove aside your notebook and bite back a small smile when he tells you how pretty he thought you looked in the glimpses he had of you today.
Organizing your books into a neat little pile, you message him and Bruce that you’re heading home. And you intend to, you really do, but then Bucky insists you call him the next time so he can walk you home, and you’ve suddenly been sitting at your table, uselessly leaning against your things for ten minutes.
You shoot up when you realize, lightly bewildered with yourself, gathering everything into your arms as quickly as possible, and shoving your phone into your back pocket. You hope Bruce isn’t getting too worried as you push open the library doors, hurrying down the steps and onto the path you usually take. You’re alert as always, careful to listen past the crunching of leaves beneath your feet and watch for shadows that edge past yours, digging your keys out of your pocket to hold them in the spaces between your fingers.
It’s three minutes in when you begin to feel unsettled. Your phone has vibrated three times in your back pocket in the past two minutes, but the darker section of your path is coming up, and chills rush up your neck as you imagine what the distraction could cost.
A shadow follows nearby, inching closer and closer until your hands are shaking and you’re on the verge of running.
Fingers wrap around your arm and you shriek, books slipping from your arms when they wane. Stumbling back, you tug yourself away from the intrusion, breaths coming out in big, wet gasps when you turn. Bucky’s wide blue eyes meet your glossy ones, hands up in surrender when he catches the tremble of your bottom lip.
A tear streaks down your cheek in profusing relief that it’s only him, the anger indistinguishable beneath it as you stumble into Bucky on wobbly knees, his name braided in a whimper. His arms settle around you hesitantly, guiltily.
“You scared me,” you whisper. “Don’t you know not to sneak up on people?”
“I'm sorry,” he replies sincerely. “I didn’t think—”
“I'm just relieved it’s you,” you interrupt, fingers fisting his shirt. You’re far away, stuck in a memory very far away, and yet it feels enough like you’re standing in it. Your grip is a vice, forcing him closer still until the pads of your fingers can feel the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. 
Bucky murmurs your name, a large palm stroking up and down your back in comfort. His voice is mournful. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
You snap out of it at the nickname, pulling away from his embrace as if you’d awoken. He doesn’t startle, only stares at the furrow of your brow and the light that reflects off of your cheeks. Swallowing hard, you blink away the rest of your daze, eyes falling on your things scattered on the ground.
“My computer,” you remember, frantically dropping to your knees to search for it.
Bucky doesn’t pry, kneeling next to you to help pick up your books, taking the ones you’d stacked up sloppily into his arms. You carry your laptop with a careful grip, relatively unharmed.
“I should get going,” you tell him, motioning to take your things from him but he refuses, ushering you into his car.
It’s silent for a while after you halfheartedly agree, obviously still embarrassed. Bucky’s hesitant to probe, but the guilt at what he could’ve reminded you of gnaws at his gut.
You can feel his stare each time he glances at you curiously; cautiously, as if you’ll burst into tears spontaneously. 
“I was attacked once.” Your voice is quiet, soft for the obvious teeth the words pierce you with. “Walking home from the library,” you explain. “It’s why Bruce doesn’t like me walking home alone.”
“You… someone…” Bucky pinches his lips into a tense line, fingers tightening around the wheel. “Why?” It’s painfully incredulous.
You look down at your lap, the left edge of your lips pulling into your cheek. “I was alone. It was easy.” What’s left to say seems painful for you to push out. “He didn’t like me very much.”
“I'm sorry,” Bucky offers after a tense second, unsure of what else to say and how angry he can be for you.
“For what? You didn’t have anything to do with it,��� you retort, offering him a weak smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“For scaring you,” Bucky insists sincerely. “For the fact that it happened in the first place.” You don’t respond, watching as trees and lights flash past the window.
“It really wasn’t as bad as you think. The label makes it seem worse,” you palliate. “He hit me once and pushed me against a wall. A bruise was the worst of it. Both physically and to my bank account.”
Bucky’s frown stays, quiet blanketing the both of you.
“So, why’d you come get me? How’d you know I was only on my way?” you chime suddenly.
“I wanted to check up on you. You weren’t answering your phone.”
You pause, meeting his eyes with an inquisitive pinch to your features. “So you drove to find me?”
“Technically, I just wanted to drop by your apartment to make sure you got home safe, but that sounds better, so let’s go with it.” Bucky shoots you a grin. An olive branch.
You accept it as you mimic the sweet curve of his lips. “Ah, yes, and that’s how Barnacle gets ‘em. Being charming and funny and sweet—”
He lets a light chuckle slip past his lips, sparing you a delicate glance. You’re already looking at him, softer in your gaze than he’s ever seen you.
He hums inquisitively. “You think I'm charming and funny and sweet?”
You laugh openly, shaking your head but not negating his words. You hug your laptop closer to your chest, constellations reflected in your shadowed eyes as you look through the window. “I think—” you inhale in relief. “We’re here.”
Bucky slows to a stop when he reaches your dorm, shutting off the car and stepping out as you pack up. You only notice his actions when your fingers slip past the handle once you move to open your own door, huffing air out of your nose when he smirks wantonly at you.
“Thank you,” you grunt, climbing out and clutching your things.
You walk ahead, listening to the door slam and the subsequent sound of shoes quick against the pavement until he walks steadily beside you. “So, you wanna do that again soon?”
You laugh, motioning to grab your keys. “Do what again?”
He steals the jingling set from your fingers, moving hurriedly to the door when you make a noise hald surprise half indignation. He jams a silver one in, cringing when it doesn’t fit. You glower as you reach him, eyeing his hands as they continue to shove the wrong key in the lock. “It's the bronze one—no, the other one. How do you not—”
The door swings open, a satisfied smile parting Bucky’s face.
“Thanks,” you sigh, taking back your keys as you step inside. He stands outside awkwardly, kicking a pebble around with his foot. You squint doubtfully at him after you’ve set your things down and he’s not following behind you like you thought he would be. “What’re you doing?”
“You have to invite me in,” he explains.
“What, like a vampire?”
He blinks. “Yeah, like a vampire.”
You grin toothily. “Vucky…” It drips in an exaggerated accent.
“It's cold out here,” he reminds.
“Maybe you should go home then,” you suggest.
His face drops for a second and you find yourself feeling a tug of something sickening at your stomach. Like a reflex, the offer leaves your throat before you can help it.
“Or. Come inside.” At his hesitant posture, you suck in a bubble of air. “Do you want to come in? You’re welcome to.” I want you to.
He stares at you long enough for you to squirm before a smile breaks through his face. “Really?”
You bite the inside of your cheek, flimsy regret already churning in your gut. “Yeah. Just come on in already. It’s cold outside, dummy.”
-
It’s startling the first time you miss Bucky's ever-constant presence.
You’d rather not admit it, but it’s hard not to—not when he finds you between classes to carry your books, teasing you about your lack of a backpack but always leaving you with only your laptop and a pen in hand. You can’t help the smiles when he “coincidentally” bumps into you at your favorite coffee shop enough times to have your order ready when you arrive on your tea day.
His goofy jokes while you study at the library get less annoying and, annoyingly, more endearing. You suddenly know a whole lot about biomedical engineering and Bucky. You know his sister’s favorite color and can spout stories about Steve before he grew five times his size like you were there yourself.
It's infuriating, you think, but you don’t mind as much when Bucky's making you laugh with lovely crinkles at the edges of his eyes.
“I like the ocean,” you say sometime at the library, books spread on the table, ignored. He looks up from his notebook in surprise, putting down the pen you’d lent him two weeks ago. “It’s the reason why my favorite color is blue.”
His own blue glitters as he nods, listening. “‘Thought it was because of my eyes.”
You reward him a laugh and a roll of your eyes. “I really wanted Atlantis to be real when I was little,” you tell him. “And mermaids. Even if they were the ugly ones that murder you,” You confess in a rare moment of transparency, meeting his eyes before you clear your throat, bringing your attention back to your laptop.
“I like space,” Bucky offers. “It's endless.”
You nod in acceptance, clearing your throat as if to rid yourself of what you’ve given him.
“You collect those squished pennies, right?” Bucky asks. 
You’re startled that he remembers, and it takes a second for your brain to catch up. “Uh—yeah. Why?” 
Bucky turns to dig around in his bag, pulling out something small and bronze and shiny with a brilliant smile. ”I went to this little souvenir shop the other day and found one of those machines.” He extends it to you and flips it slowly between his index and middle. “It has a little fuzzy monster thing on it. I don’t get it, to be honest.”
It never crossed your mind that he would do that for you. A startling line of electricity runs up your arm when your fingers meet his, quick to take the penny from him. “Thank you,” you mutter, observing the coin in the light. The large eyes of the embossed little monster stare back at you. “This is really nice of you.”
“It’s not big deal,” Bucky shrugs. “I just thought you’d like it.”
Honey fills your throat. Gulping, you glance at the clock, nearly relieved to see it’s time for you to leave. “I gotta go,” you tell him, gathering your things. The smooth edges of the penny dig into your palm. He stands in tandem, rolling his shoulders.
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll walk you.”
“You don’t have to,” you begin.
“I want to. Besides, it would kind of feel weird not to after so long.”
You nod along. “Right.” 
He ducks his chin in affirmation, picking up his stuff too. Furtively, he lightens your own load.
You notice but know better than point it out and argue, remembering how you ended up bedrudgingly carrying only a pen last time.
“Does Sam still have your car?” you ask as you leave the library.
“Yup. One more week, he says.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Well, he’s been saying that for two, so…”
You laugh, staring up at a big tree vignetted orange.
Bucky nudges you lightly as you begin to drift away, preventing you from walking into the street. He guides you past a fissure in the sidewalk as you gasp at something in a boutique’s window. “There’s a sale at the bookstore!”
“Wanna go tomorrow?” Bucky asks.
You nod. “Can we?”
“Sure, we’ll just leave the library a little earlier,” Bucky suggests, balancing the books in his arms.
“Someone’s sure of themselves,” you tease. “You’re walking me home tomorrow, too?”
“Of course. I have been for months,” Bucky points out with a shrug.
Your jests die on your tongue as you realize he’s right, the discovery shocking when the memories of your solitary walks are further away than you had thought; suddenly, you remember that the dog you’d pointed out two weeks ago was more for his benefit than yours.
“Weeks,” you argue weakly, throat suddenly dry.
“Weeks could definitely be months,” Bucky reasons. 
You ignore him, stopping in your tracks. “Why?”
A frown tugs at his lips as he pauses as well. “Because weeks add up to months?”
“Why have you been walking me home every day for months?”
“‘Thought it was weeks?”
“Bucky,” you say, a little urgent.
He shrugs boyishly, near flippant but your things in his arms don’t let you believe that. “I don't want you to walk alone.” Then, “I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”
Shocked pupils dart around wildly and it’s difficult to swallow before you steady yourself, clearing your throat. Your features are pinched in a sort of raw determination—open, honest. “Thank you.”
He smiles and it’s soft as he shrugs lightly, nearly nonchalant.
Before you let yourself get too caught up in the curve of his lips and realize you’ve imitated it unconsciously, you look away, clearing your throat in relief when you spot your door.
“Right. Um, thanks again.” You take your things from him before he can think twice about it, speed walking to your door.
“Wait—” he stammers out, confused and too late when you give him a wave and a quick goodbye before slamming the door shut.
You swallow hard on the other side of the door, wide eyes staring aimlessly into the darkness. In the dreaded stillness, you can feel the heat that creeps up your neck and floods stickily into your face, the prickling static that needles into your palms. Shakily and illicitly, a hand drifts up to your chest, pressing to feel the thundering beating of your heart.
You curse to the silence, letting your eyes flutter shut in candied disappointment.
-
Bucky thinks you’re acting weird.
No—he’s sure you’re acting weird.
He knows you now, can recognize the sarcastic lines of your cheeks when you wrinkle your nose and poke fun at him. He’s memorized the genuine curve of your lips when he’s said something so cheesy it circles around to sweet. He knows you at your angry and at your happy, but he doesn’t know this.
You’re being nice to him. Sticky nice. Not you-nice.
He tries teasing first, poking a pencil into the flesh of your arm and asking if you’d fallen in love or something. You’d scoffed, blinked fast, and swatted him away. But you didn’t say no.
He’s aware he’s a fool to think so large of a lack of something, but he can’t pretend like it doesn’t inspire something in him, something like hope, like nectar, sticky in his throat.
He wonders if it clogs words up in yours—if it’s the reason you’re so quiet.
You stare through your computer, steam from your tea disappearing into the air as you blink. There’s a sweet indent in between your eyebrows, similar to the one you get when you study something you don’t completely understand, usually accompanied by the nail of your thumb between your teeth. But this one is lighter, more unintentional. You’re struggling with something but he can’t figure out what.
Your eyes flicker up to his, glinting in the light when you catch them on you.
“What?” you blurt. It’s louder than you intend, and you purse your lips in that embarrassed way that you do, shrinking down into your seat. “Why are you staring at me?”
“You’re pretty,” he says honestly.
He waits for your usual flustered reaction and you give it to him, but it’s vignetted with something, different in the quick blinks of your eyes and the thumb you brush over your nose. 
“I'm hungry,” you complain, ignoring his compliment.
“I'll buy you something,” Bucky responds immediately, already pulling out his wallet.
“You don’t have to,” you remind. “I wasn’t asking, I was just—”
“I know, it’s fine,” Bucky insists.
“I can pay. It’s my food.”
“It’s just a meal.” He squints at you. “You never pass up a chance of food on me.” He presses the back of his palm against your forehead and leans in closer. “Are you feeling okay?”
You heat up beneath his touch, shaking him off with a scowl. “You make me sound awful. Fine. Buy me my food then.”
Bucky raises his hands in surrender, wallet between his index and middle finger rising with his shoulders. “I will.” He squeezes your shoulder before he walks away, dipping down to your ear to whisper, “And you’re not awful.”
You huff, pinching your lips together as you watch him get in line, nudging his fingers into his wallet to take out money.
Arbitrarily, you’re annoyed. Bucky Barnes is infuriating, with his long charcoal lashes and lilting chuckle and nonchalance in giving things you want without your asking.
Your laptop screen darkens with your lack of attention, and you’re left staring at yourself, scrutinizing the thin lines around your eyes as you squint. You’re being ridiculous; you can’t be angry over Bucky being a sweet guy.
“They musta’ known you were coming,” Bucky whistles, balancing a bowl and a small bag already darkened with grease spots in his arms. You take the bowl from him, warmth seeping into your fingertips.
You furrow your brows at him when you pop the lid off, barely realizing you’d never told him what to get. “You got me cavatappi pasta,” you realize. You look upset.
“Yeah?”
Distressed, you snatch the bag from him, shoving your fingers inside to pull out two large chocolate chip cookies. “And chocolate chip cookies.” Your voice rises and falls with a slightly unhinged twinge, features pulling as you examine what Bucky got for you. Your comfort food; the token you’d never explained to him.
“Yeah. It’s what you always get. And I know you always want two cookies but only get one because you’re afraid you won’t finish it, but we can split it or you can save it, or—what are you doing?”
You sweep everything into your arms, holding the food tightly behind your books.
“I have to go.”
“What? We just got here.”
“I have an appointment.”
“For what?”
“For—things—it’s—” you huff. “I have to go.”
“Are you sure you don’t need a ride? I have my car back, you know,” Bucky offers, already beginning to get up, but you shake your head, his actions hitting something in your chest.
“I'll be fine, thanks for the…” you exhale sharply. “I'll see you later.”
You run off, ignoring his confused call of your name as you slam the door behind you.
Hot soup dribbles down your fingers as you speed walk back home, but you barely notice, struggling to remember why you’d rejected him before.
“I hate him,” you mumble, fully dishonest as you struggle with your keys. “I hate him so much.”
“Hate who?” Bruce asks from the table, sparing you a glance from his computer. His eyebrows join as he takes you in, every panting and crazed inch of you, mouth parting and head tilting. “Uh.”
“Bucky,” you reply, setting the a la carte box down hastily. You drop the cookies next to it.
Bruce stares at you.
You make a big gesture with your hands toward it, pursing your lips. “He bought me that. Just—insisted. He's so—” you sigh frustratedly. “I didn't even—he bought me cookies.”
“Okay.” It's long and hesitant. “And that’s bad because…” he begins to shake his head. “You don’t like cookies?”
Your shoulders drop.
“You hate cookies and pasta. You think they’re awful,” Bruce tries.
“No! I love soup and cavatappi and—he’s ruining everything! He's such an idiot!” you rub your face, nuzzling your nose into the crevice between your joined hands.
Bruce examines you for another second before: “Oh.”
“What?” you snap, meeting amused brown. “What?”
“Nothing,” Bruce muses, but his lips are set in a careful smile, amusement poorly hidden. “Just that you finally learned his name.”
His thoughts are pathetically obvious in his tone, lips in a thin line and eyes crinkled.
“Don’t,” you warn. “Bruce Banner—”
“I didn't say anything.”
“Do not think what you’re thinking,” you demand. “He’s a player and a distraction and—”
“Okay.” Bruce has never been one to argue, but his one word answer makes you more frustrated than anything else he could’ve said.
You puff and gather your food, striding to your room with a glare at your best friend. 
-
For the first time since you met Bucky, you follow through on an excuse to miss the game. It’s not a majorly important one—although Bucky pouts when you tell him either way, insisting that he needs you there for good luck—but you still feel a strange ache at the bottom of your stomach when the game begins and you’re too far away to cheer for him.
The edges of your lips are downturned, brows pinched as you stare at your phone before you realize what you’re doing and snap your attention away.
Scoffing, you shake away thoughts about soccer and the memory of Bucky's sweet blue eyes when he’d teased you, a strange tone of real sadness beneath his playful jests.
You pause, lifting your hands from your computer to eye the time once again. Furtively scanning the work you’re nearly done with, you allow yourself the distraction and grab your phone, fingers dancing in anticipation when your lock screen is littered with icons of messaging apps.
You click Bucky’s name first, smiling softly as you read a quickly typed summary of the game he probably sent after the first half was over. He sounds hopeful and excited, like he always does when he talks abouts soccer, but he signs off with a mispelled reminder that he misses you and a red heart. You check Wanda and Bruce's messages next, your face falling when you learn the second half hadn’t gone as well.
Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you glance at your work again and then at the clock, taking a quick breath before you force yourself to write a quick conclusion you promise yourself you’ll revise when you get home.
The game is over by the time you arrive, easily finding a parking spot in the midst of everyone’s departure. You hear disappointed grumbling as you make your way inside the stadium and cringe, striding toward the locker room.
Your name in Bruce’s voice makes you pause, turning to meet his pulled, bushy eyebrows and pinched lips. “What’re you doing here?”
“I finished early,” you explain. “And you said the game wasn’t going great so I thought I'd come and make sure the team’s okay.”
Bruce's features morph into something like realization and then into his poor poker face, lips pursed so tightly they’re edged white. “Right. The team.”
“Uh huh.”
“Well, since it’s the whole team, I should let you know most of them are in the locker room moping, but Bucky wanted to leave early.” Bruce looks pointedly to the right.
“What? Why?”
Bruce shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe he said something about seeing you, but since you’re here for the team—”
“Shut up, Bruce.” You squint meanly at him, making him swallow a laugh as you spin around and continue on your path. 
You bump into Bucky when you turn a corner, familiar hands coming to rest on your arms distractedly before his eyes brighten in recognition. He says your name in surprise, shaking you gently as if to check that you’re real. His hair is damp from the quick shower he’d just taken, dark spots from water droplets around the collar of his gray shirt. He smells like soap and Bucky and it makes you a little dizzy.
“Hey, I heard about the game,” you say. “I wanted to check up on you.”
“Oh. I was just coming to see you. I told you that you were our lucky charm.” Bucky laughs but it’s not completely honest, his disappointment about the loss shining through.
You frown, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, you shove your hands into your coat pockets, pulling out a crinkled baggie in each one. “I brought you something.”
Bucky steps back, eyebrows furrowed as he notices what you’re holding. “Are those orange slices?”
Nervous now, you let your arms drop. “Yeah. I, uh—figured they’d maybe give you a boost and—” You cut yourself off, laughing awkwardly. “It was dumb.”
“My mom used to bring me orange slices after soccer practice,” Bucky mumbles.
You perk up. “Yeah. You told me about that and I thought maybe you’d like them.” The end of your sentence lilts like a question, answered by the quick movements of Bucky's fingers when he takes a baggie from you and pulls it open, taking a slice out to grin happily at it.
He dips his fingers in again and hands another to you, bumping his own small slice against yours. “Cheers.”
As soon as he bites into it, the juice from the fruit runs down his fingers, eyelids falling closed in a delighted hum. You barely realize the sap has streaked sticky orange down your arm, too.
He breathes out your name as he opens his eyes, a dazzling blue in the fluorescent lights of the locker room hall. “I forgot how…” He shakes his head, drifting off, and takes the other bag from you, pulling you to him. He sighs big and warm, rumbling through his chest.
You rub your nose against his sweatshirt, breathing in deeply. There's the fresh scent of citrus and then the lavender body wash you’d bought for him faint beneath his own distinct smell. He thanks you blithely, a lot lighter.
You shrug it off and force yourself to pull away, shivering at the loss even if you initiated it. “Do you want to get something to eat and watch that new episode of The Great British Bake-Off we missed last week?”
“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, hand drifting down to pull yours along. His skin is sticky and sweet against yours, orange juice smearing on your palm, but you can’t find it in you to care.
-
You feel sick when you step outside; a sticky, prickly rush that coats your throat in sap. It’s cold enough to make goosebumps rise on your skin, dark enough for the stars to drown in ink. Any appetite you had disappears, replaced with something clammier and painful, a twisting anxiety as a result of a bad day and a completely avoidable situation.
The bags with your food bump warmly against your knee, plastic handles pulling against the skin of your wrist. If you stay as you are, there will be indents of them once you finally put the bag down. 
Something like dumb, chest-puffed stubbornness tugs incessantly at you when you contemplate calling Bruce to come pick you up, a biting voice snapping pathetic for even thinking about it convincing you to shut the door behind you, locking away the choice of warmth and safety and shame.
It’s very silent when you begin to walk, the crinkling of your bag loud and in tandem with your steps. You let it slide down and hook on your fingers, carefully aware of shadows that might peek out behind yours and off-space footsteps.
Lonely fingers curl in on themselves, missing the comforting frigidity of the keys you’d forgotten at home. Your dying phone vibrates in the tight grip of your hand, spurring your steps faster. A dark lump appears on your shadow’s shoulder, and you freeze, spinning around violently to face the street, empty behind you.
You turn back around hesitantly, breath trembling. You could’ve sworn you felt someone else behind you.
Eyes rounded and wet, you begin to walk again, feeling an uncomfortable heat in the space where your ribs meet. Your required cognizance turns frantic, making your fingers shake and oxygen difficult to get into your lungs. There’s an echo to your footsteps. When you blink, there’s the ghost of an unforgiving hand on the back of your neck, the sharp slam of your jaw against brick. You gasp when you open your eyes again, a hand flying to the aching skin of your neck as you spin.
Your eyes promise that there’s no threat lurking behind darkness, but your mind blares with an assurance that there is. Ducking behind a wall, you scramble for your phone, cheeks cold with air-slapped tears as you press the call button for the first contact your fingers find.
Bucky’s voice is confused and comforting when he answers.
“I think—I think someone is following me,” you whimper, pulling your legs to your chest. Your food warms the side of your thigh. 
“What? Where are you?”
“I don’t know,” you cry. “I’m sorry, I should, it’s just—I was walking home from the restaurant and I heard something and I can’t concentrate, I can’t breathe—”
“Okay, it’s okay. Try to breathe, okay? Can you tell me what restaurant it was?”
You can picture the glowing sign, the faded wallpaper, the flowered curtains, but you can’t think, barrelling you deeper into panic. “I can’t remember—I—”
You can hear Bucky open his door. “Hey, it’s okay. Were you eating there or picking up to go?”
“To-go,” you answer tearfully, concentrating on the box pressing into your flesh.
“Okay. For you and Bruce or just you?”
“B-both of us.”
“You’re doing great, sweetheart. Try to take deep breaths, I think I—”
There’s a hollow click before it’s silent, the calm you’d been grasping at completely gone. “Bucky?” you plead. “Bucky?”
You pull your phone away from your ear, vision going blurry when you tap desperately at the screen and it doesn’t respond. Dead.
There’s a tremendous weight on your chest, your elbow knocking against the wall behind you with your attempts to draw in a breath. You shove your head in between your knees and try to remember Bucky’s voice, forget the cold fear that another clammy hand will reach for your hair and tug you up.
You need to get home. You can’t move.
You stifle your sobs with your leg, clawing at your shins and trying to think of anything else. You shove your hand in between your stomach and your legs, letting your phone fall to your thighs as the tips of your fingers reach the round hills of your collarbone. Your palm digs into your flesh until the beating of your heart pulses against your thumb, aching when you force it to stay put.
Thump, thump. “O-one,” you force, restraining your fingers from curling. Thump, thump. “Two.” A deep, shuddering breath that makes your mouth snap closed and your eyes flutter into darkness. Thump, thump. “Three…”
It’s how Bucky finds you, your nose deep between your knees, counting watery and muffled. He’s frantic when he sees you, panic like needles against his chest prickling to a pounding ache. He should be more cautious, stand still a few feet away for a few seconds, step slowly. If he were a little less in love, maybe he would; but he’s not, and the relief that you’re solid and no longer a tenuous voice on his phone is too much a relief.
He calls out your name and rushes forward, lowering himself down to his knees before he touches your arm. You flinch, shoving a strong hand against him, a horrible mix of anger and fear contorting your voice.
“It’s me. It’s Bucky.”
You still push yourself back against the wall, but your eyes finally meet his. “Bucky,” you test. “Bucky.”
It’s a silent, cold beat before you blink clearly, irises looking back a little less hazy. You murmur his name once more and promptly burst into tears, launching yourself into his chest. His arms wrap around you in tandem, pleasing the closeness your fisted fingers crave. He takes in your tears, steadily smoothing a hand over your back, desperation in the way he hooks his chin over the crown of your head.
“Are you okay?” he asks too soon.
You make a noise of which answer he can’t be sure of, so he gathers you up in his arms to push you away, only a little, only for a second to stare at you.
You grip at his shirt, cheeks shiny. And then, “I thought I was really gonna die this time.” Hearing your admittance causes a shift on your face, still crumpled and unready to deal with this. “Just for a second and—” Your lips twist to keep words back. 
Bucky pulls you back in.
“Will you take me home?”
His compliance is wordless and patient, hooking a finger through your takeout and grasping your hand with his free one, guiding you to his car. He helps you inside, setting the bag at your feet before he buckles your seatbelt and pushes strands of hair away from your sticky face.
Your breathing steadies while he drives, concentrating on the cool puffs of air hitting your collarbone, the lingering warmth from the food you’re suddenly starving for. But the wash of panic has left a shameful residue and a subsequent otiose apology on your tongue, making the once comforting silence expectant.
Your chest weighs when you finally spot your door, fighting to pull words from your mouth at the dimmed lights, but Bucky beats you to it, clearing his throat without unlocking the door. His left hand lays clothed on his lap, face stormed with uncertainty, but there’s a resolute edge that makes him look at you.
“I’m sorry,” you start, misunderstanding.
“Why?”
You aren’t sure, only certain of how guilty you feel. “For… bothering you. For making you comfort me. I’m sorry that you had to see me like that."
“Don’t apologize.” He clenches his jaw. “I don’t want you to…”
He shoves his sleeve up, taking a deep breath as he pinches the fingertips of the glove. “I know that wasn’t something you were ready to share with me. I understand, I…”
His gaze is heavy, flickering between your face and the fingers peeling away his glove. He swallows hard when it’s pulled off completely, looking away from the sight of his skin.
You can’t help the way your eyes track down his arm. It’s scarred with angry raised lines, ending at his fingertips and disappearing into his shirt sleeve. 
“I was in a fire once,” he says. “‘Got some scars too.”
“Is that why you wear—” You trail off at his nod. “Why are you… why are you telling me?” you ask, wincing at how the question sounds, but Bucky seems to understand what you mean.
He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he lies.
You blink at him, slipping a sure hand into his and squeezing. “Thank you.”
His eyes stay startled on your interlocked fingers, stubborn even beneath his gaze. He laughs hollowly then, squeezing back before he finally meets your eyes. “You, too.”
-
Your fingers are wound tightly around Wanda’s arm, the nails digging into her sweater giving away what your face is trying to hide. You’re zeroed in on Bucky's figure as he runs across green after blurry white.
The energy from the others who cheer in the stands makes you buzz, a rush of confidence urging you to jump to your feet when Bucky passes the ball to Pietro and then has it once again, close enough to the other team’s goal to make you clench a hand in anticipation.
With the flesh of your thumb between your teeth, you can’t help but lose your breath when it looks like Bucky's going to try to make it, only for it to be knocked out from your lungs when he crashes to the ground from the impact of another player.
Your mouth parts in a surprised o, tongue playing his name before you can stop it.
It's eerily silent in the stadium for a second as Bucky lies on the field, before it disappears into a fold of angry screams.
You’re not worried.
Bucky has never gotten hurt on the field before—”I’m too good,” he had promised you with an uneven grin, annoying in the way that he’s right—and the only times it’s seemed otherwise have been lies, a mere play he put on for the free kick. He had shaken his head disappointedly at you when you’d gotten worried, condemning you for not trusting him. He’s playful when he’s flustered.
So you’re not worried, because you know Bucky is fine.
Except he hasn’t moved in a little while too long and you don’t think it’s ever taken him this long to fake it. Although, maybe it feels longer because you can’t take your eyes off his figure.
You’re not worried.
Your fingers say otherwise, thumb tapping against your alternating fingers so frantically they get jumbled together, clumsily bumping into the crevices between them.
“Is he hurt?” Wanda asks.
“No,” you say automatically, stretching your fingers out like a starfish as if to rid evidence of your anxiety. “No, he’s fine.”
It's another moment that seems too long and the lines of Wanda’s worried face deepen, breaths a little faster. “He's not… he’s not getting up.”
“He’s fine,” you insist. “He has to milk it.” Glancing up at the timer, you nod definitively. “Yes, he has to milk it to get the penalty kick.”
“What?” Wanda asks, meeting your eyes in confusion.
“The hit didn’t seem that bad,” you lie unsteadily. “He has to milk it. He’s fine.”
Your panic escapes in the highs of your voice, something translucent hiding it when you clear your throat. He's still not getting up and it makes your breath comes out quickly. “He has to be,” you admit.
Wanda’s brows furrow, eyes searching your face once Bucky finally limps weakly to his feet, giving the ref a short nod. A sigh large enough to make you bend slips past your lips, caught in a relieved laugh as you gesture to him.
“I told you,” you tell her.
“He’s limping,” she points out.
“It’s fake,” you assure, fingers digging round shadows into your temples. “He’s doing his hero face, he’s completely fine.” It comes out more relieved than you thought it would.
He gets his penalty kick, makes it, of course, and it’s another few, a lot slower minutes before the game is over, but you’re making your way down thirty seconds before, too much attention on the game rather than your footing on the stairs.
You stumble over your feet, barely caring when the whistle blows to indicate the game is over, and turn in the direction of the hall to the locker room. Your anxiety nearly seems silly now, not as oppressive now that the soaked towel you’d been waterboarded with was dry. Yet, it still prickles at your fingertips, faint but enough to ache.
It's only a couple minutes before you can hear the pattering of feet, the stress that the outliers are Bucky, limping like he did on that field, nudging at your mind. The players wave at you, surprised, and your heart grows heavier and heavier with each passing team shirt that does not have “BARNES” on the back.
Then he’s there, completely fine and near the end of the line. He's grinning at the apparent win, letting Steve shove him proudly. His eyes widen in surprise when they catch sight of your own, saying something to his teammates without looking at them as he steps toward you.
“Hey, what’re you—”
Unable to help yourself, you throw your arms around his neck, the prickling disappearing the moment you touch him. He is hot and solid in your arms, but most importantly completely fine.
“Hey,” he coos, hugging you back.
You allow him a moment before you pull back abruptly and smack his arm.
“Ow!” he complains, grabbing your hand.
“You asshole! What’s up with the drama?”
“What, did I scare you?” Bucky teases, smirk dropping when your deadpan doesn’t glitter with playfulness. “Doll?”
“You took your sweet time getting back up,” you continue, ignoring his words. “You’ve never taken that long.” You’re alone in the hall now, eyes frenetic over his figure.
He softens then, chin pulling closer to his neck so his eyes can give you a reassuring smile. “Hey,” he says softly, tapping your wrist with his index, “‘m fine.”
“I know,” you contend, but it comes out a little relieved at hearing it in his voice. “I told Wanda that.”
His cheeks apple at your statement, amusement twinkling back in his eyes. “Of course. My girl knows I can't get hurt.”
You scoff at the term of endearment, nervous energy dissolving. “I'm not your girl.”
“Not yet!” he proclaims.
You wrinkle your nose, stepping away from him. “You stink. Go shower.” You pat his shoulder as a goodbye, beginning to head back out.
“Sure know how to charm a guy,” he mumbles, watching you walk away with a dopey smile.
-
You’re in your room, laying on your stomach with your computer in front of you and a drink Bucky had bought for you sitting on your bedside table.
He's sitting against your bed, scanning over a document. You should be doing something like it, but you can’t help but be distracted. He's quiet for once, features set in something not playful and not serious, a small knot between his brows indicating his concentration.
He looks pretty. You can’t be blamed.
If he notices your gaze, he’s kind enough to not point it out, although it’s unlikely. It’s undoubtedly heavy.
He’s staring down at his hand when he speaks up for what seems like the first time since hes arrived. His fingers dance nervously before he shoves them away from his view, edges of thick tissue peeking out as a bracelet on his wrist. “Do I make you uncomfortable when I flirt?”
You blink owlishly at him, unsure how to answer. He sounds so serious, guilty. “No.”
“If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop.”
“I know you would. But it doesn’t. Is something wrong?”
Bucky cringes. “You don’t really flirt back. I just want to make sure it’s not because I make you uncomfortable.”
“You don’t! I just… don’t really flirt. I don’t really think there’s a point if I’m not dating.”
“You don’t date?” He’s known this. To a point, which he thinks is not completely accurate now that he hears the way you say it.
“No.”
“Not even guys you like?”
“Especially guys I like, ” you clarify, cringing with the difficulty of putting so many feelings into so insignificant words. “Things get messy. It’s just… distractions and it’s never worth it.”
“You think love isn’t worth it? That it’s a distraction?”
You shoot him a look, huffing a little disappointedly, as if you’d expected him to understand something and he didn’t. “Why do people always twist my words into something so cynical?
I didn’t say that. Not love. I never said love, I just—it never ends well. It’s always something you pour so much into and get so little back.”
Bukcy shifts. “That’s not true. A relationship is fair, or at least, it’s supposed to be.”
“Ah, but see, ‘supposed to be’ and ‘is’ are two different things. I’d rather just skip the entire thing.”
Bucky frowns. “I don’t think you should.”
“You don’t think I should?”
“I don’t… I’m not telling you what to do, but I really think you should try. Love can be really great. And you deserve that.”
Your nails pinch at your fingers. “But what if it isn’t?”
“Then it isn’t.” You move to rebut, but Bucky continues. “But what if it is?”
You refuse to answer, chewing on your bottom lip.
Bucky gazes at you, waiting for a response before he realizes he won’t get one. He doesn’t push, turning back to his work.
“Why do you care so much?” you ask.
He sucks in a breath before admitting, “Mainly because I think you would really enjoy being loved. And very partially because I’m selfish.”
You hum. “You’re a really good guy, Bucky.”
“I try.”
You scowl lightly. “Incorrigible. Annoying. But really good.”
Bucky laughs. “Don’t forget—what was it you said about me? Charming? Sweet? Hand-to-heart hilarious?”
You launch a pillow at his head. “Nuisance is what I should’ve said.”
“Mm, a little contradictory but what’s life without some juxtaposition? Maybe I’m a man of many talents.”
The tip of your index finger shoves into his arm.
You fall into a peaceful silence once again when the laughter dissolves, your fingers busy away at your keyboard. There's a moment where you’re thinking, staring intently just past your computer and Bucky is staring at you, a thoughtful expression on his face, stony and all.
“Will you?”
It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to you. “Will I what?”
“Give it a chance.”
You want a moment to ponder it, because you know the right answer but you aren’t sure if you want to pick it. “Give what a chance?” you play dumb, but he doesn’t buy it.
You look to your side, unfocused eyes lazy on an ugly painting.
“Yeah, maybe.” You want to tell him it depends who it is, that you have very strict rules mentioning annoying brunets with blue eyes who walk you home from the library and never shut up, but you don’t, eyes travelling back to him slowly. His silence when they finally meet his own tell you he knows anyway.
Quickly looking back down, you avoid his gaze and continue to work.
-
You melt into his side, delightfully prickling when you lean in a little closer to take a sip of your drink. Eyes shimmering in the lame lights of the bar, you’ve never looked so openly bright, hardly containing your delight and everything you can spilling past anyway.
There are enough people in the place for it to feel rightfully uncomfortable, sweat-sticky skin bumping into the arm he has around your chair and making the heat rise, but Bucky can’t seem to notice.
It would feel plain ignorant to do so—to not focus completely on the stitched pride in the dips of your smile or the warmth of your palms as they splay flat on his arm.
It’s not enough to just have your fingers tug at him during conversations with strangers, he feels he should imprint the feeling of your touch like a branding.
You say his name in conversation, cruelly dragging your hand down to bracelet around his wrist and squeezing. You make a little shimmy with your shoulders that can’t help but make him laugh. He zeroes in on your lips, trying to make sense of what you’re saying.
You’re cute. You’re too sweet to be in this stuffy bar with him.
You turn to him brightly in the midst of another exclamation and he feels himself transported.
He can feel the end buzzer vibrating up to his fingertips, the breeze on the heat of his skin when he’d looked up, eyes searching for you like a habit. 
Your features are shrunken into the memory, suddenly far away but still pulled into the biggest beam you could muster, hands clapping ecstatically.
“Bucky,” memory-you says liltingly, too clearly.
When he blinks, he’s back in the present, the tip of your index dimpling his bicep, your face close enough for him to count each individual eyelash. He grins without really thinking about it. “Bucky,” you repeat, a little harsher but still teasing.
“Yeah?” he responds finally.
“We’re complimenting you and you aren’t paying attention? Are you feeling okay?” you frown, lips downturned but the edges of your eyes still crinkled with happy lines. The back of your hand meets his forehead.
“Fantastic,” he says, his left hand vining up to hook around your fingers and lay them on his lap. “Just won a game, didn’t you hear? All by myself, too.”
You shake your head at him, turning back to who Bucky realizes is one of your friends. Carol, you’d said.
“See?” You say accusatorily. 
Carol grins. “Yeah. Kind of hard not to when you describe it so thoroughly.”
That catches Bucky’s fluttering attention, an eyebrow shooting up questioningly in your direction. Your lips part in betrayal at Carol, and you begin to take your hand back from Bucky, but he hooks your wrist before you can. 
“I think Maria is calling you,” you tell her. “You should go see what that’s about.”
“Now, now,” Bucky starts. “Actually, I think I want to know how thoroughly you talk about me, sweeheart.”
“That's my cue,” Carol laughs, dipping a beer at you both. “I'll see you guys later. Congrats on the game.”
She bounces to her feet and takes off, leaving the two of you alone. Bucky nudges a finger in between your ribs, making you jump and swat at him. “Hey!”
“You talk about me to your friends?”
You stare at him, bottom lip pushing out defensively in your tipsiness. “Well, the star football player is one of my best friends, shouldn’t I be allowed to brag?”
“Best friend, huh? Bruce gonna be jealous?”
You wave him off, making a small, stubborn sound. “He ought to get over it with how much he ditches me.”
“See, I would never.” Bucky presses his free hand to his heart in oath. “Star football players are very reliable. Scoring goals, keeping plans, etcetera.”
You grin at the reminder, something sparkling beneath your skin like static, jolting your fingers when it begins to brim. You splay an excited palm on his shoulder out of pure excitement, seeming to relive the night.
“I am so proud of you,” you say. Saccharine, words stout with a smile and pride. “You did so well today.”
You’re startlingly genuine, entirely proud. Bucky can’t bring himself to tease or flirt.
“Thank you.”
You smile prettily, the light in your irises shifting at his authenticity. “I am,” you insist.
You just want to tell him, for him to hear you and understand how much you mean it. Your pupils flicker to a spot above his shoulder, distant for a second as your face brightens more. You laugh disbelievingly.
“I don't know all that much about football but from what I do, you’re certifiably extraordinary.” You sound out the word, unwilling to mess it up when you mean it so much. You try again. “You made a really great play.”
“Impossible,” Bucky corrects completely unsubtly, but it’s soft, blurred by yellow light from above and buzz from you.
You observe him for a second. “I think you’re amazing,” you say thoughtfully, not in an effort to compliment but in a sort of realization. “What… type of person…” you start but don’t continue, tongue unable to keep up with everything running through your mind. The walks home, the paid lunches, the attention, the ability. 
You inhale sharply, as if realizing you’re drifting off and trying to pull yourself back in.
Bucky knows what you expect—what he expects of himself—but he can’t bring himself to tease you, reiterate your words with an artful curve of his lips. He can’t concentrate enough to ignore the prickly warmth at the bottom of his stomach. He glances down at his watch.
“Should we go?” he says instead, casual but urgent. “It's late.”
He stands before you can process his offer, still a little drunk from stolen sips but only enough to make contrasts lighter. You blink up at him from your seat for a second before nodding, two short, stressed lines between your brows. He shouldn’t have been so abrupt.
Kinder, he helps you from your seat and guides you toward the door, keeping you away from stray elbows with benevolent redirection.
Your breath curls visibly in the air when you step outside, white and dissolving until it is replaced by another, longer exhale. You wrap your arms around your torso.
“C'mon,” he urges, guiding you to his car. “Let’s get you warm.”
“Should you be driving?” you ask as he searches his pockets for the keys, standing at the car door, watching him. “And what about the others?”
“Didn’t drink,” he answers, patting his coat pockets until he finds what he’s looking for.
You frown, slowly running through the night and realizing he’s right, recalling the sparkling water dripping moisture next to his jacket sleeve. The cold and the ennui knock a lot into focus.
He clicks open the car. “And this’ll force ‘em to call an uber. Worst comes to worst, I’ll drop by later to force them home. I just want to get you home first. No drunk footballers to puke on your feet.”
He rounds around to meet you, opening the door, and waiting patiently.
“Why didn’t you drink?” you ask. You’ve seen him drink before, tipsy in that breezy way where he’s a little flirtier with a little less filter. “You won a game. If you ever deserved it, it’s now.”
“I had to be able to drive you back.” He shrugs, cocking his head in the direction of the open car door. “Speak of the devil,” he starts pointedly, reminding you of your frigidity.
Still contemplating, you climb inside with furrowed brows, following Bucky's figure as he shuts your door, jogs back to his side, and settles into the driver’s seat. Rubbing his hands together, he turns to look at you. 
“You okay?” he asks.
“Uh huh.”
He clicks his tongue. “Look at that. I think you’re a little drunker than I thought.”
“I am not,” you argue, looking down at yourself and seeing nothing wrong until Bucky reaches over to pull your seatbelt over you. “Oh.”
Bucky breathes out a little laugh, amused.
“I'm just…” You contemplate for a second, sinking into the rumbling of the engine when Bucky turns the car on. Immediately, heat slaps your nose. The glass meets your temple bitingly, jolting your sentence back on track. You turn to see Bucky's attention already on you. “Happy.”
“You’re happy?” Bucky repeats pleasantly, shifting the gear into drive.
“Yes. It was a good day today.” 
You feel clearer now, the edges of reality crisper as you look out the window. “I know I already said it, but I'm really proud, Bucky. You win games and ace tests and don’t celebrate with a drink to drive me home. You’re kind of great.”
“Yeah?” he murmurs, glancing at you.
You hum an affirmation, inhaling deeply. At some point, Your few-sip buzz dissipated into something different.
Sober, but influenced on the darkness of the sky and the roundness of the moon. It feels safe suddenly, a rush of energy jolting you straight. You stare at Bucky's profile. “Yeah,” you confirm clearly. “It's kind of disappointing, you know.”
Bucky is caught off guard, sparing you a look when he stops at a stoplight. “What?”
“I just thought you’d be different.”
“How?” His brows are furrowed.
You take a moment to ponder. “Not so… you. More of the unforgivably arrogant and ignorant jock variety.”
“So you were expecting me to be one of those cartoon stereotypes?” he teases, looking back at the road with an easier smile.
“Kind of,” you laugh. “But you’re not and that’s really great.”
The red light from outside drapes over his features, pulled as he searches the crevices of your face. In response, it slackens slowly, from thoughtful to a little dazed as you stare back. Without meaning to, you’re leaning in at the same time he is.
His skin flips green.
You fall away from him with a surprised exhale, blinking in confusion.
It takes a second for Bucky to look away after you have, and you consider yourself lucky there’s no one else on the road during the long moment it takes for his attention to switch back to driving.
He doesn’t want to just forget what happened. He doesn’t want to move on from this yet. “What does that mean?” he asks, your compliment playing on repeat in his mind.
You stay silent, trying to figure it out yourself. “I don't… I don’t know.”
He tries to remain unbothered, glancing at you once more to catch your focus unmovingly on him. He pulls into your driveway and turns off the car.
“What about going on a date with me?” he requests, a little more serious that usual but glazed in his usual tone. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he continues.  “I'll dress up in that shade of blue you think I look so good in and we’ll go out to eat at that little hole-in-the-wall restaurant I'm still impressed you found. You’ll order that same thing you always do, and we can talk about that novel you’re reading—”
He doesn’t wait for the answer you’ve given before, stepping out of the car and striding over to your side.
You gaze up at him when he opens your door, your buckle unclasped in your hand. He's kind as he always is as he helps you out, hands settling on your shoulders to steady you when you nearly trip over a ridge in the sidewalk.
“Or… or we could go take a walk around the park. Or go to the movies, or the amusement park, or do laundry or taxes or—anything as long as it’s with you.”
And maybe it’s the easy smile, with the glitter of gold pride still sewn into his lips, or the genuine kindness he’s never failed to show you under the mask of the moon. Maybe it’s the proximity. Maybe you just can’t help yourself anymore. You kiss him.
He’s frozen for a solid moment, thick enough for you to start doubting yourself, beginning to pull away when he finally reacts, practically melting into you as his hands frantically pull you closer.
He pulls away hesitantly, torturously, a second later, eyes scrutinizing. “Wait, wait, wait, are you drunk?”
You shake your head, laughing gently at the thumb that pulls gently at the skin beneath your eye to make sure, urgently tugging you back into the kiss when he’s satisfied.
“‘Had to make sure,” he mumbles against your lips. “This can’t happen when you aren’t you.”
“It’s me,” you promise, pulling back. Before you can delve into your mind too deeply, you nod suddenly. “Yeah, okay.”
“Yeah, okay what?” he repeats, chasing after you to kiss you a few more times.
“I'll go out with you.”
His smile drops, fingers tightening around your hips. “Wait, really?”
You nod. “Yeah.” You grasp his arms tightly. “I should at least try, right?”ey
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How’s Your Head? | Bucky Barnes x Reader
This has been in my WIP forever and I finally finished it. Once again, I am looking for a soft, kind, Bucky Barnes to take care of me and flirt with me. Is that so much to ask?🥲
This is slightly longer than my usual stuff, just FYI. The WC is 7280. And yes the title is a Drag Race reference. 😂
Warnings: reader injury (not severe), creepy men (jail), blood, vomit, flirting, fluff🫶
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Bucky didn’t like the staring. The eyes that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. The old woman just a few seats down from him leered at him almost aggressively, like she hoped looks could kill. And though this was a common occurrence, it still rubbed him the wrong way.
“Another adoring fan…” Bucky thought. 
He shifted side to side along with the rocking of the subway car and did his best to ignore her gaze- but couldn’t stand it any longer. He gave her a nod and a small, forced smile before heading for the adjoining subway car. Hopefully, he’d find an empty seat free from gawkers and onlookers.
But when he opened the door to the next car, he didn’t find the peace and quiet he’d hoped for.
“I’m not interested…” you said to the creepy guy sitting next to you.
“Oh, come on,” the man insisted. “Don’t be so uptight, sugar.” He rested a hand on your thigh and gave your leg a squeeze, his fingers digging into your flesh.
“Fuck off, dude. Seriously?” You banished his hand and stood from your seat, “eat glass, asshole.”
But as you tried to make your getaway, the man grabbed you by the wrist. He pulled you close as you struggled in his grip, his face only inches from yours. “Maybe you should learn some fuckin’ manners,” he threw you to the ground, your head striking the floor.
Bucky flew into a blind rage. He made quick work of your assailant, nearly removing the man’s head from his body. And with the entitled dickhead desperately escaping to another subway car, Bucky made his way to your side. 
“Hey, are you alright?” 
You sat on the floor, slightly dazed. A thick fog settled into every corner of your mind and your ears stung with a sharp ringing. “Yeah, I’m good. Didn’t hurt that bad,” you lied. Yet another interaction with an unknown man. Yes, he’d shooed away your creeper, but you wanted to be left alone. No more strange men, no more men pretending to be “one of the good guys” before showing their true self. 
If you could convince this random guy that you were okay, maybe he wouldn’t bother you. Maybe you’d be able to make it home without being touched by another strange hand. “Thanks for asking, but I’m-”
“Oh- you’re bleeding”. Only then did you notice the rush of warmth running down the back of your neck. Bucky yanked the jacket from his body and reached for your bloodied skull before quickly recoiling. “Erm, can I?” 
You nodded- the motion made you wince.
With cautious hands, he used his jacket to hold pressure to your wound. He stared down at you with genuine concern, his brow furrowed with worry. 
After a few moments, most of the fog cleared and brought you screeching back to reality. The reality in which a man you’d never met held his jacket to your bleeding scalp as you sat on the floor of a subway car. Pain pulsed beneath his touch and shot through your head. Warm blood dripped down your neck. But you didn’t care- all you wanted was to move.
Bucky watched as you struggled to get up and instantly tried to stop you. “Hey, careful. I don’t think-”
“I don’t wanna be on this floor any longer than I have to,” you did your best to stand, but the dizziness sabotaged your efforts. “People do weird shit on the train. I’d probably sitting in someone’s pee.” 
Bucky gave it a thought and instantly reconsidered his cautioning. “Ew. Yeah. You’re right,” the disgusted look on his face nearly made you laugh out loud. He thought back on all the questionable and downright nasty things he’d seen on the subway- he didn’t want you on that floor. “May I?” He offered you his free hand and got you safely into a seat. 
“Which stop is yours?” He asked, settling into the chair next to you. And though he seemed like a perfect gentleman, you gave him a suspicious glance. 
“Oh- I didn’t mean that in a ‘where do you live, I’m gonna follow you home’ type of way. More like, ‘how many stops do you have left before you can go get some rest?’ type of way”
You let out a laugh that sent pain pulsing behind your eyes. Maybe this stranger wasn’t so bad. “Um, I still have like five to go. I think. I’m coming all the way from Coney Island.” 
“Coney Island, huh?” A rush of memories hit Bucky like a train. Riding the cyclone with Steve and watching him puke. Spending all his money to win a stuffed animal for some redhead he had a crush on. 
“Yeah, I got to hang out with a girl I know from college. Haven’t seen her in a while and she’s never been out there. It was actually a pretty great day until that asshole cracked my head open…”
Bucky grimaced. He pulled his jacket from your scalp to give the wound another look, only to be greeted by a continuous flow of blood. “I think you should probably go to the ER. You might need stitches. And there’s a good chance you have a concussion.” 
You shot him only a nonchalant shrug, “I’m not worried about it. Plus, I don’t feel like going into debt so they can give me two Tylenol and an ice pack”.
Bucky liked your sense of humor, your wit. How you could be cheeky and sarcastic after being accosted surprised him. But he clocked the tension in your shoulders, the worry in your eyes. You were uneasy. Your glance darted from one end of the subway car to the other every few seconds; he knew you had to be searching for your assailant. Or the next man who wanted to touch you without permission.
“Hey, would you rather take a cab home?” Bucky said, pulling you from your anxious spiral. “I don’t blame you if you don’t want to ride the train after what happened.”
“Oh, um…”
“I’m not inviting myself home with you-” Bucky shook his head. He was cute when he got flustered. “I just mean, I’ll pay for you to take a cab if you’re uncomfortable.”
How you seemed to meet both the bottom of the barrel and the crème de le crème of men back-to-back nearly gave you whiplash. But this handsome stranger had done enough; you couldn’t let him pay for your ride home. “That’s- wow, that’s really sweet. But you don’t have to. It’s okay.”
“What if I want to? You seem uneasy… like you’re waiting for him to come back.”
You nodded.
“Then let’s get you a cab, alright? Next stop, we’re outta here.” He shot you a wink before once again reassuring you that he was not going to follow you home. “Is there someone who can keep an eye on you, though? Like I said, you probably have a concussion. And if your roommate or, um, significant other can sit with you for the rest of the night, that would be a good idea. Head injuries are no joke.”
“Well, I don’t have a significant other,” you almost laughed. “And my roommate’s out of town. She was supposed to get back around sevenish, but her flight got crazy delayed because of weather- now she’s not getting home for a few hours.”
Bucky’s brow furrowed. He checked his watch and saw that it was only 8:04pm. He needed someone to sit with you for the rest of the night. Just in case something happened, you’d need a friend or loved one by your side. And if you didn’t have someone there with you, Bucky knew he’d spend the remainder of his evening worrying about the cute stranger he met on the train. 
Just then, the subway stopped. Bucky offered you his arm and guided you onto the platform and up the stairs- all while keeping his jacket in place against your wound. Getting away from the train eliminated your unease. No longer were you trapped in the tiny space, your blood staining the floor. You had an escort in the form of a good samaritan, and a ride that would get you home without any further abuse.
 But when Bucky hailed you a cab, your anxiety resurfaced.
“Hey, um…” you eyed the car as it approached, “Would you- do you mind riding with me?”
Bucky cocked his head to the side. 
“I don’t know- I’m just a little nervous and I don’t really wanna be in a cab alone with another random man,” you said. “I know it’s probably inconvenient for you- I’ll pay for your ride home from my place.” The taxi neared the curb and stopped in front of you, sending your unease into overdrive. “Do you mind?”
Bucky clocked your wide eyes and shaking hands. Sure, you made jokes and sarcastic quips about what happened. But deep down, you were shaken. And he wanted to help in any way he could. “Not at all- I get it,” he gave you a reassuring look, “and you don’t have to pay for my ride. Let’s just get you home, alright?”
He held the door open for you and helped you into the cab before sliding in behind you- his hand still attached to your bloody skull. The ride was quiet, save for the honking of horns and cursing drivers. But having Bucky with you for the duration eased your discomfort. 
“So, is there anyone you can call to come look after you?” Bucky asked after a while, “A friend, a neighbor, a family member?”
“I don’t really have any friends,” you said. “But not in a ‘I’m a loser and can’t make friends’ kind of way, I promise.” Bucky laughed. You liked his laugh. “I’m just still kinda new here. And all my family lives in across the country. Plus, I only know two of my neighbors. One of them is an old man who always tell me my skin looks ‘so soft’-”
Bucky’s nose wrinkled, “Ew…"
“Yeah. And the other is this girl who told me to shut the fuck up because she thinks my footsteps are too loud? So yeah, I don’t have many connections here yet.”
He sensed a little embarrassment staining your words and aimed to make you feel better, “Well I’ve lived here for quite some time, and I don’t have any friends, either.” 
That didn’t seem possible to you. He was so likable. Quiet, yet endearing. And certainly, a gentleman. He made you feel safe. You wondered how his girlfriend would react when she found out he took another woman home. 
Bucky found himself wondering how you didn’t have swaths of friends. Even after your harrowing experience on the train, you were so charming. Funny. Sweet. It was even harder for him to believe you didn’t have a love interest to go home to. But after what he’d witnessed tonight, he didn’t blame you for keeping to yourself. 
“What part of town do you live in?” You did your best to conceal the optimism in your voice, the hoped that he lived close by. It was embarrassing how smitten you were with this man.
“Brooklyn,” Bucky said. “I’ve lived there for a while- save for some years I spent, um, away.”
Brooklyn. Nothing a quick train ride couldn’t solve. Though you weren’t too keen on the subway after the night’s events. “Well, tell your girlfriend that I apologize for keeping you so long.”
“I don’t have one,” Bucky said. Things inside the cab fell quiet.
“Oh. Well, do you-” you second guessed yourself, but decided to push through. “Do you want to stay with me until my roommate gets home? You know, since you’re so worried about me and my possible concussion and my lack of friends.”
Bucky stopped breathing. “Oh, um. Sure. Yeah. If that’s- if that’s alright. You sure you’re okay inviting a stranger into your house?”
“Well, you’re not really a stranger, Sergeant Barnes”. You shot him a wink.
An immediate ringing filled Bucky’s ears. He didn’t know what to say, how to react.
The rest of the ride was quiet. Bucky’s mind echoed with the sound of your voice referring to him by name. He liked the way it sounded coming from you. But he hated that you knew who- and what- he was. And when the cab turned onto your street and stopped in front of your apartment, he nearly panicked. He reconsidered his agreement to stay with you. But you didn’t seem to mind having the ex-Winter Soldier so close. And he didn’t want you to be alone with a head injury.
Against his better judgement, he followed you to the front door of your building. 
“My great aunt actually lived here back in the fifties,” you told Bucky as you fumbled for your keys. Bucky wondered how you could tell casual stories while dealing with a head injury and an ex-assassin. But as you continued to speak, he realized that he didn’t quite hear what you’d said. He was still reeling from your mention of his name. 
And then he noticed you struggling. You were dizzy after cracking your head open, and a slight shaking rendered your hands almost useless. No matter how many times you tried, you couldn’t seem to finagle the key into the lock. 
“Um, do you want some help?” He gestured to your keys and allowed you to drop them into his free hand. He pushed the old door open with a loud creak and escorted you inside the lobby- his hand still resting on the back of your head. It was quiet while the two of you waited for the ancient elevator to roar to life. And when the doors finally opened, he guided you inside and watched you press the ‘5’ button.
“So… how’d you know it was me?” He asked as the elevator slowly climbed to your floor.
“Well, when I first saw you, I thought you looked kinda familiar. But I couldn’t place you”. You laughed a quiet, bashful laugh, “Then you knelt down next to me, and I thought I was gonna pass out- but not from the head trauma. You just you have like, the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.” The head injury had you a bit loopy, a little too honest. Too confident. “I knew I’d seen those eyes before… and then it clicked. You were so chivalrous, you know? So old fashioned. I mean, who uses their own jacket to stop a stranger’s head wound from bleeding?” 
Bucky shrugged. His cheeks flushed pink.
“I read a book a few years ago about Captain America and his efforts during World War II. And there was a huge portion about Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes… And that’s where I’d seen those eyes.” You flashed him a dramatic wink, “Truth be told, it was my favorite part of the book.”
A shy laugh made its way out of Bucky’s mouth, “Is that so?”
The elevator lurched to a stop and nearly sent you tumbling to the floor. You’d gotten used to the clunky machine since moving into the building, but your sabotaged equilibrium didn’t stand a chance against it. Bucky caught you in a careful, protective grasp before you could tip over. He gently righted you and searched your face for any indicators of discomfort. 
“You alright?”
“All good, Sergeant Barnes.” You gave him a salute.
He rolled his eyes and escorted you into the hall, “you can just call me Bucky, if you like.”
“Okay, Bucky-” you said with a smile, “follow me.” You lead him in the direction of your apartment- with his jacket still plastered to your scalp. The man was determined to help you. You’d give him that.
You once again needed his assistance when it came to unlocking your front door. But when Bucky got the door open, he just stood there. He didn’t go inside. He held the door for you and insisted you go ahead, finally peeling the jacket from your wound. He knew he didn’t belong here.
You noticed how tentative he was about entering your home and beckoned him inside. “You can come in…” you said. “Are super soldiers like vampires? Do y’all need an invitation?”
Bucky laughed, “No. I just… I don’t do this kind of thing very often.”
“Oh, you don’t accompany injured women home from the subway on a weekly basis? I’m shocked.”
You flipped on the light and let the warm glow reveal your apartment. Bucky admired the art covering your walls, the books lining your shelves, the smell of some kind of baked goods lingering in the air. This place was cozy, welcoming. Nothing like his apartment.
While he was distracted drinking in the details of your home, you gave his jacket a once over. Blood coated the leather and smeared the lining. It was enough to make you nauseous.  “Sorry about this mess… here, let me clean it up for-”
“It’s leather- I’m not worried about it,” Bucky shrugged. “I’ll just wipe it off later.”
“Ew, I think that’s considered a biohazard, Sarge.”
Bucky’s laugh echoed through your home- you liked the sound of his voice bouncing around your space. “Well, lucky for me, I’m not susceptible to biohazards. So, really, it’s not a big deal.” He shot you a wink and hung his bloody jacket on the back of a chair. “Let me take a look at your head.”
He gently moved your hair out of the way enough to expose your wound. He was as careful as he possible not to hurt you or make things worse. And using the dish towel you offered him, he wiped away enough blood to get a good look. 
“It’s big, but not deep enough to warrant stitches. And it looks like the bleeding has finally come to a stop.” 
“Perfect. I’m gonna go take a shower” you said. “Make yourself at home. You’re welcome to anything in the fridge, except the kombucha. My roommate will murder you if you drink her kombucha.”
Bucky didn’t even know what kombucha was. “Are- are you sure you wanna go shower?”
“Um, yeah. Gotta get the subway-floor germs off me,” you gave a dramatic shudder. “Some of us are, indeed, susceptible to biohazards.”
“That’s fair,” he laughed, “I’m just a little worried about your balance… I think it’s probably seen better days.”
He wasn’t wrong. The floor did indeed seem to dip and shift under you unsuspecting feet. The room spun on occasion. The walls wiggled. But you needed to get cleaned up. “I’ll be extra careful. Promise.” You offered him your pinky and made him link his with yours. “But I have more blood in my hair than anyone should- I need a shower.” You left Bucky alone in your living room with a promise to be back soon.
It was strange for him, being in a stranger’s home like this. He didn’t get invited places or have friends to hang out with. He had Sam- and that was it. And while Sam was great, he never felt quite like this at Sam’s apartment. Something about your place warmed him, made him feel a little lighter. Or maybe it was you. Who was he kidding? Of course, it was you.
But Bucky knew this feeling couldn’t last. In a few hours, your roommate would return and send him home. And that would be the end of it. Of course, he’d be thrilled to see you again under better circumstances. But assuming he’d get that chance would only lead to disappointment. And so, as he waited for you to finish your shower, he did his best to remember this feeling just in case it was the last time.
“I said make yourself at home and you didn’t even sit down!” you said when you emerged from the bathroom. You found Bucky in the living room with his hands in his pockets, admiring your things as though he were in a museum. Looking, never touching. “Relax a little, sarge. The couch is really comfy, I promise.”
Bucky liked the way you looked with your skin still slightly damp form the shower, your hair wet and a little messy. “Oh, yeah- I just got distracted looking at all your…” he gestured to your bookcase, “your books and your tchotchkes. You have good taste- I like that you have two copies of Fellowship of the Ring.”
“Well, my sister dropped one of them in the lake at summer camp when we were kids…” you pointed to the faded cover and worn spine of the book in question. “She took a hairdryer to it and it’s mostly fine, but my mom made her get me a replacement. I just can’t seem to part with this one, though.” You plucked your water-damaged copy of Fellowship of the Ring from the shelf and flipped through the pages, “too much sentimental value. You know?
Bucky felt a small smile creeping upward- you didn’t mind damaged goods. Maybe you’d want to see him again after all. 
“Can I get you a drink or something? I have water, tea, La Croix, wine…” you looked at him expectantly. 
“Oh, no I’m okay-”
“Well, I’m going to the fridge for some water anyway, so you’re not saving me a trip…” you shot him a wink and began your trek to the kitchen. He followed in your footsteps, too much of a gentleman to let you fetch him a drink. And though he didn’t know what La Croix was, he took the one you offered him with a smile.
He followed you yet again, but to the couch this time. He sat a respectful distance away- as respectful as your small couch would allow- and taste tested the blackberry drink in his hand. It didn’t taste like blackberries. But he thanked you, anyway.
He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to check in on you after your shower- he was too entranced by the sight of you in your pajamas. “Hey, how’s your head?”
“Haven’t had any complaints.”
Maybe it was too forward of a joke. Maybe someone from his time wouldn’t appreciate crass humor. Bucky’s cheeks flushed red- and he burst into laughter. You joined him, ignoring the throbbing pain in your skull. 
“It feels fine. I mean, it hurts, but it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before” you said. “Are you just gonna make sure I stay up all night?” 
Bucky cocked his head to the side, “uh, I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Oh…” you grew a little embarrassed. “I thought you couldn’t go to sleep if you have a concussion.”
“You can go to sleep- it’s just good to have someone check in on you now and then,” he said. “And, hey, you don’t have to stay in here with me- don’t feel like you have to entertain me, or anything. If you wanna go to bed, I’ll be fine out here.”
“Well, I don’t know about entertaining, cause I think the concussion kinda fucked up my ability to tap dance,” you laughed. “But I wanna hang out here with you- if you don’t mind the company.”
He gave you a shy smile, “I don’t mind at all.”
Bucky wasn’t anything like the tabloids said. He wasn’t cold or scary or threatening. He sat on your couch, sipping a La Croix and admiring your throw blanket. He was the farthest thing from intimidating. He had a quiet calm about him that brought you peace. Never did you think you’d invite a man you met on the subway to accompany you home. But Bucky made you feel safe. He was sweet, he clearly cared for your well-being. He was, by all definitions, perfect.
“So, what do superheroes do in their downtime?” you asked. “Like when you’re not saving the world, what do you do for fun?”
Bucky shrugged. He didn’t do anything for fun. “Um, I have court mandated therapy appointments,” he gave an awkward laugh. “I read. I hang out with Sam when he’s not in Louisiana visiting his sister. And I have lunch with a neighbor of mine every Wednesday- this old man named Yori.”
“I’m sure he could say the same about you- that he has lunch with some old man named Bucky.”
Bucky’s head fell back in a laugh, “yeah, you’re right. He’s- he’s about twenty years younger than me.” Bucky didn’t bring up the fact that Yori didn’t know his real age or anything about his past. About how the Winter Soldier killed his son. “Um, what about you?” He quickly changed the subject, “what do you do for fun?”
You thought it over for a moment. You hadn’t expected him to ask; most guys never asked what you liked to do for fun. They didn’t ask you anything at all, really. “Well, I also go to therapy,” you said. “My therapist’s name is Angela and I love her. And when I’m not ‘hanging out’ with Angela, I like to read. I like to go on walks. Oh, and I do a lot of baking- there’s a Tupperware of chocolate chip cookies on the island if you want some.”
Bucky’s eyes grew wide. He was off the couch quicker than you could comprehend and returned with the entire Tupperware in hand. But before he could dive in, he offered one to you. He was a gentleman, after all. 
“Oh, shit, these are so good”. Bucky wiped a stray crumb from his lip, “seriously, maybe the best I’ve ever had.”
His praise made your cheeks hot. Bucky Barnes called you ‘the best he ever had’- it was enough to make you sweat. “Oh, I’m flattered. The recipe’s been in my family for generations, though, so I can’t take full credit, but I-”
“I’m giving you full credit”, he said as he finished his second cookie. “These things are incredible.” 
You smiled so hard it hurt. “Well, I make at least one batch a week, so…” This was it, your excuse to see Bucky again. You could simply say that you wanted to bake him some cookies as a way of saying thank you, and then you’d ask him out. It was a perfect plan, really. A flawless, surefire way to guarantee that you’d see him at least once more. But as you tried to suggest baking him a ‘thank you’ batch, your mouth flooded with saliva.
Bucky clocked the way you grew suddenly quiet. He dropped his third cookie and inched closer, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, you okay? Do you need something?”
You did your best to push past the wave of nausea. Breathing in your nose and out through your mouth, you willed your body to cooperate. You made a valiant effort, but it was no match for the clear and present threat of vomit. This was happening- now. You scrambled to your feet and made a beeline for the bathroom, swearing to yourself you wouldn’t puke in front of the James Buchanan Barnes. 
Bucky rushed after you and found you kneeling in front of the toilet, emptying the contents of your stomach. “Oh, shit- here, let me,” he carefully moved your hair out of your face, holding it behind you in an imitation ponytail. His touch was gentle, cautious. He didn’t want to pull too hard and hurt you- you didn’t need any extra pain. 
He watched your body lurch as you wretched over and over, voiding your system completely. It was harsh, almost violent. And when you finally sat back on your heels, black and white spots danced through your field of vision. You were empty. Spent. Exhausted. 
“Hey, do me a favor and sit against this wall, okay?” Bucky guided you backward until you rested comfortably like he asked. “I’m gonna go get you some water, and I don’t want you tipping over while I’m gone.” Even in your despondent, miserable state, he still made you smile. And when he was certain that you wouldn’t injure yourself in his absence, he rushed to the kitchen for a glass of water.
He returned moments later with ice cold water in hand. “Thanks,” you croaked, your throat raw. Small sips of the cool water eased the burning. And a few more swigs rid your mouth of the unpleasant aftertaste. “I’m sure you weren’t planning on watching a stranger puke tonight,” you laughed. It made your head pound. “But I appreciate the water. And you holding my hair.”
Bucky plopped down next to you with a “sure thing” and a “don’t worry about it.” But you’d heard those phrases before. You’d heard them from people who were never a sure thing, people who made you worry about everything they did for you. They’d throw their rare acts of kindness in your face and use them as ammo in an attempt to disprove the pain they caused. It was condescending. Manipulative. Hurtful.  But Bucky meant what he said. All he wanted to do was help. You could tell.
He watched you catch your breath. Watched you drink your water in small sips. But he kept an eye out for another wave of nausea. He wanted to be ready in case he needed to hold your hair again. And he found himself thanking the universe that you’d invited him in; imagining you going through this by yourself broke his heart. 
“How do you feel?” he asked after a while.
“Not the best... but I’ll probably survive.”
Bucky’s laugh filled the room, “well, that’s very good news.”
The two of you sat in a comfortable silence. Bucky’s hand rested near yours. Your thigh bumped against his a few times. You swore electric currents passed between the two of you each time you touched. 
“Hey, if you don’t mind, could you grab me some Tylenol?” 
Bucky was up in an instant, ready to fetch you what you needed. But he found himself lost with no idea where he was going. He was so intent on helping, on making you feel better, that he was ready to run off without a map.
“In the cabinet to the left of the fridge,” you laughed. 
He shot you a wink and sped off. And while he rummaged through your cabinet, you made an embarrassing effort to stand. You rose on wobbly legs, determined to brush your teeth. There was no way you were going to have vomit breath around Bucky- absolutely not. He was the handsome stranger of your dreams. And you couldn’t screw this up; not that you thought he’d kiss a random concussed woman he met on the subway. But you wanted to leave the very best impression possible.
Bucky came screeching own the hall, bottle of Tylenol in hand. “I didn’t know how many you wanted, so I brought the whole thing”, he shrugged. You shot him a smile in the mirror and gave him a muffled “thanks”.
He stood patiently in the doorway, waiting for you finish brushing your teeth. And when you banished the rank taste of bile, you accepted the Tylenol. You tossed back four pills, and before you could reach for your water, Bucky retrieved it for you. He was one step ahead of what you needed. 
With the pills washed down your throat, you gave Bucky an expectant look. “Back to the couch?”
“Yeah, I mean, only if you’re feeling up to it,” he checked his watch. Noticed the yawn you tried to keep concealed. “If you wanna get some rest, please, don’t mind me. You can go to bed- I’ll be fine on my own.”
“No, I’m good. I’m fine,” you took him by the hand and led him back to the living room. “I’m having a good time.” Bucky didn’t say a word; he just let you guide him. He hadn’t held hands with someone in- he didn’t know how long. And holding hands with you- a stranger he’d grown rather smitten with- was enough to stop his heart.
The two of you sunk back into the couch- closer this time- and kept the conversation going. Your thigh rested against Bucky’s; his arm curved around the back of the couch. You could’ve sworn he was playing with a piece of your hair as he talked. But you didn’t want to ask and ruin the moment.
As the night continued, Bucky was shocked. He couldn’t believe you’d only heard of a few of his favorite movies. And he’d never heard of any of yours. “Make me a list,” you said, handing him a pen and a scrap of paper. “And I’ll make one for you. A person’s favorite movies say a lot about them.” 
“Yeah?” he cocked an eyebrow at you. “And what do mine say about me? The ones you know of, that is.”
A sly smile pulled at your lips, “they say that you’re a hopeless romantic.” It almost sounded like an accusation, and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. 
“Is that so?”
“That is so!” you told him. “But I’m gonna tell you a secret…”  You lowered your voice, beckoned him closer, scanned the room as though in search of any eavesdroppers. “I’m the same way.” 
Just as you finished your list of movies for Bucky, you considered writing down your number. It would be so smooth, so perfectly timed- but what if he thought it was too forward? What if he didn’t want your phone number at all? You scratched out your area code and handed him the list with a smile.
The two of you continued teasing and joking and learning about each other. You found out that Bucky loved peach cobbler. He learned about your passion for animals. And eventually you asked the question you’d been curious about all night.
“So, where were you headed?” 
“What?”
“Well, you were on the subway. I’m assuming you were going somewhere.” You thought he was probably going to some fellow hero’s house for Super Movie Night. Or maybe a meeting with Captain America and Company. He had something much cooler to do than anything you planned for the night, that was for sure.
“Oh, right…” he cringed. “Um, I wasn’t actually heading anywhere. I was just riding the train to, well, ride the train.” It was embarrassing. More embarrassing than anything he’d ever done or said in his hundred years of life.
You cocked your head to the side, “Hmm. Interesting. So, is that like a hobby of yours?” 
He wished he could take his answer back. He wished he would’ve said he was going to dinner. Or Target. Or literally anywhere. But no, he just had to be honest. “No, it isn’t a hobby. It’s more like… exposure therapy.”
“Shit. Sorry,” you threw him an apologetic look. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
“It’s okay, no big deal. I just- I don’t really like confined spaces. Or spaces with a lot of people. It’s a- it’s a long story.”
You nodded. 
“So, my therapist told me two combine the two and force myself to take the train- which isn’t great for my fear of trains,” he let out an awkward laugh. “Anyway, I was just trying it out. Seeing how it made me feel.”
Your heart broke for him. He had so many problems, so much trauma to deal with. And while you weren’t a psychiatrist, you didn’t think combining three of his fears into one nightmare was very sound medical advice. “And how did it make you feel?” 
“It wasn’t great- this lady was staring daggers at me for ten solid minutes. But I did get to teach that creepy guy a lesson, so at least there’s a silver lining.”
You laughed. He loved the sound- wanted to hear it all the time. 
“Thank you again, by the way, Sarge. You really rocked that guy’s shit.”
“I don’t like hurting people-” he shrugged, “It’s just something I’m good at. I try not to engage in violence unless absolutely necessary, you know? But that guy deserved it. Probably deserved a little more, but…” He gestured to you, “priorities.”
A warm rush flooded your cheeks. James Buchanan Barnes referred to you as a priority. 
The evening continued as the two of you swapped stories. You couldn’t believe how funny he was, how many ridiculous things he did back when he was young. In the comfortable safety of your living room, he came alive. You asked for more tales of young James Barnes and his antics with Steve Rogers. 
But as time passed, Bucky clocked the way you sank deeper into the couch. You nodded along with his stories and made comments here and there, but there was no mistaking your exhaustion. You leaned against his body more and more until your head rested on his shoulder. 
And then, you were asleep. Completely out. 
But Bucky didn’t mind. He sat still and quiet. He silenced his phone and yours. After the night you had, you needed the rest. And he was more than happy to help you get some sleep. He held in his laughter as you muttered nonsense under your breath- something about crepes and trench coats. It was perfect. Not the night Bucky expected, but the night he needed. And he’d stay in that exact position for hours if he had to. 
But after only forty minutes, a loud crash scared you awake.
Two large pieces of luggage fell to the floor inside your front door. “Fuck Delta airlines and FUCK LAX!” your roommate, Emma, yelled. “I swear to god, there’s a curse on that fucking airport and Delta is the devil’s airline.”
She eyed the room for a moment, taking in the unexpected scene. “Ew, why is there a bloody jacket in the kitchen? And who the fuck are you?”
You stood, begrudgingly leaving your spot next to Bucky. “This is Bucky, that’s his jacket. Some asshole attacked me on the train. I split my head open. He brought me home and kept an eye on me till you got back.”
Maybe she was just in a shit mood because of the travel nightmare. Or maybe she recognized Bucky. But either way, Emma wasn’t having it. “Okay, well, thanks for bringing her home. But I’m back, so you can go. Now. And don’t forget your nasty jacket.”
Bucky gave an awkward laugh. He mumbled a “nice to meet you” and stood from the couch. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, and you wished telepathy came with the serum. If he could only read your mind, he’d know how sorry you were. How horrified you were by Emma’s behavior. You couldn’t believe how rude she was being, how utterly unkind. 
But your mind and body weren’t quite working together. You were still groggy, lost in the haze of sleep. And your head injury only made things more difficult. You did your best to formulate a response to Emma and an apology to Bucky. But before you could say anything, Emma was at it again. 
“Seriously, dude. It’s time for you to go, get out of my house.”
Bucky was so flustered, so uncomfortable that he left without saying goodbye. Without getting your number. He shut down. He simply snagged his jacket from the kitchen and bailed. He heard you arguing with Emma as he walked down the hall. Heard you near-tears. 
He wanted to turn around and say goodnight. To protect you from Emma’s wrath. Comfort you. More than anything, he wanted to get your number. Maybe ask you out. But he was too thrown off by the whole thing. He didn’t expect such a response- he didn’t even get to tell Emma that you needed looking after. He just ran. And it made him feel like a coward. 
He pressed the button for the ancient elevator once. Twice. Five times. And when it finally arrived, he got in and slammed the button for the first floor. Ruining his chances of ever seeing you again. Sure, he knew where you lived. But he couldn’t just show up. You’d already dealt with enough creepy shit from weird men- he wasn’t going to stalk you. 
Bucky spent the entire elevator ride heartbroken. He knew he’d have to go home to his empty apartment; knew he’d think about you for way too long. You’d probably forget about him after a day- maybe two at the most. And he’d spend months trying to get over the stranger from the subway.
But when he stepped out of the elevator, he found you waiting for him.
“Hi, um… what?” He was more than a little confused. “How did you- how’d you get down here so fast?”
“Stairs,” you breathed. “Faster.”
Bucky couldn’t believe you. It was romantic; it was something out of one of his favorite movies. But it was stupid. “That was… that was a terrible idea- you could’ve gotten hurt. You almost fell over earlier when you were just standing still. Why’d you run down the stairs?”
“Cause I didn’t get to say goodbye…” your voice was soft, heartbroken. “And I didn’t get to give you my number.”
Wordlessly, Bucky handed you his phone. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to chance ruining such a perfect opportunity. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him, of all people. That you actually wanted to see him again.
When you finished, you extended Bucky’s phone in his direction- but recoiled as he tried to reach for it. “Promise me you’ll call?”
“On my life,” he said. The answer brought a warm smile to your face- a smile he wanted to see again. As soon as possible. And when you gave his phone back, he took a moment to stare down at your number. This had to be a dream. 
“Do me a favor and go get some rest, okay?” He extended his pinky and linked it with yours, “Drink a lot of water. And even though she seems like she’s in a bad mood, ask your roommate to check in on you every now and then.”
“Yeah, like she’s gonna go for that-”
“Tell her that if she doesn’t, I’m coming back to look after you myself. And I’ll drink her, her um…” 
“Kombucha,” you whispered. 
“Right, I’ll drink her Kombucha!” He laughed and shot you a wink, “That’ll do the trick.”
You pressed a kiss to his cheek, wiggled your pinky with his, and stepped into the still-open elevator doors. “Thank you for everything. I’m really happy I met you.” 
Bucky blushed. “So am I. Not under the best circumstances, but-”
“Worth it,” you shot him a wink. Just as the doors began to close, the two of you exchanged waves. And just before Bucky vanished from view, you threw a quick “call me” his way. And then he was gone.
You made it back to your apartment, nearly tripping over Emma’s luggage. She apologized as you grabbed a glass of water and nearly cried when you told her the story of your evening. And though you wanted to hear about her airport nightmare, you needed to sleep. 
You got settled in bed and realized- you missed Bucky already. 
And just as you decided to go to sleep for the night, your phone buzzed:
“Wanted to call but figured it might be too soon- seeing as it’s only been about four minutes. I’ll call you in the morning. And just so you know: even without the tap dancing, I found you very entertaining. I’m really glad I met you.
If you need anything at all, let me know. Feel better.
-JBB”
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ravenromanova · 3 months
Text
First christmas
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Parings: Bucky x Female reader
Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT! Breeding kink, Daddy kink, SLight metal finger kink, Bucky wanting to get the reader pregnant, Soft Bucky. DO NOT READ IF YOURE UNDER 18++!!!
Kinkmas masterlist - Main masterlist - Send me requests!!!
~ “Babygirl where are we going?” Bucky asked as you covered his eyes and walked him downstairs into the living room of the compound giggling like a child.
“You’ll see in a second just be patient” You giggled and playfully smacked his head earning an ‘ow’ from the super solider. “Okay now open” You quickly removed your hands and stood in front of him. You stood in front of him and dramatically flailed your arms to bring attention to what you set up.
He opened his eyes and scanned with living room with an unreadable expression. “What’s all this?” Bucky questioned as he took in the undecorated christmas tree, all of the ornaments and decorations scattered around the floor. He was a little confused as to why it looked like santa threw up in the living room but intrigued nonetheless.
“It’s our first christmas together so i thought we could decorate! It’s normally Nat’s thing but i convinced her to let us do it this year” The smile that adorned your face nearly brought him to his knees. “And it’s also your first christmas since you got deprogrammed so it’s even more special.” You continued as you grabbed his hand and gave him some decorations. He smiled and felt his face heat up and your words.
“You’re adorable. And i love it” He chided with an equally as big smile on his face. Buckys heart swelled seeing how excited you were to decorate with him. He wasn’t one for holidays especially when he was in Hydra for obvious reasons. But right there in that moment with you he felt like a little boy again waiting for santa on christmas eve.
The two of you quickly fell into a nice rhythm as you decorated while listening to older christmas music. Buckys eyebrows shot up in curiosity as he saw you hold a pink unicorn ornament and put it on the tree.
“When did you get that?” He asked coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist as you hung it on the tree. He was quick to notice how it resembled the stuffed unicorn he won for you on your first date to coney island.
“I got it a few months ago. Me and Nat were out shopping and i saw it in one of the small little christmas shops and bought it immediately” You smiled looking at the unicorn on the tree. Bucky smiled and then kissed you softly before he helped you finish the decorating.
About an hour went by before the you two were finished with the tree and the decorations for the living room. So after all the hardwork you two did you decided to make some hot chocolate for you and him. You smiled and danced along to the music as you made them and then sat back down on the couch and handed it to him.
“Thank you doll” Bucky smiled when you handed him the warm drink and sat next to him. “I had fun decorating with you” His confession made your heart swell and another smile cross your face.
“Good im glad” You smiled up at him and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek causing him to blush. “Maybe i can convince Nat to let us decorate more often” You said seriously and then looked at each other and started laughing knowing damn well she wouldn’t.
A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you drank your hot chocolate and laid on the couch together peacefully. That was until Bucky suddenly got up and held out his hand for you to take. Your brows furrowed in confusion at your boyfriend’s actions making him smile.
“Dance with me” He said in a husky tone as he waited for you to take his hand. “I wanna dance with you under all the lights” His words almost made you cry as you nodded and took his hand. He was quick to pull you into his body and hold you close as the two of you danced.
The two of you danced peacefully to “White christmas” by Irving Berlin with big smiles on both of your faces. Buckys heart warmed at the moment. His best girl, his favorite holiday and his favorite christmas song. Honestly how could this get any better he thought. But soon the moment got even better when you tapped his cheek to get his attention. When he looked down at you and you had your finger pointed to the ceiling, slowly he looked up and smiled at the mistletoe over your heads.
“Is there something you want babydoll?” Bucky asked cheekily with a smug smile on his face.
“You know exactly what i want Barnes” The words were just as mischievous as the smile on your face. And within seconds you grabbed his face and pulled him into a heated kiss. Bucky was quick to place his hands on your hips and bring you in closer to him.
“I need you baby” You said barely above a whisper with a slight pout on your face. He then moved his metal hand from your hip to your cheek and slowly caressed it.
“Then you have me babygirl” His voice was smooth and soft as he spoke which made you weak in the knees. He slowly guided you over to the couch and sat down before he had you sit on his lap.
“Such a pretty doll” He praised running his hands up and down your back. The way he looked at you and spoke to you made you a puddle in his lap.
Bucky was quick to bring you in for another kiss but this time it was much softer and sweeter than the one before. It was almost as if he was scared of breaking you which again almost made you a puddle.
“You don’t have to be so gentle” You were the first one to break the kiss since air was needed.
“Mm but i do. You’re just a little doll. Precious even. I need to be gentle and take my time with you” His words caused a shiver to run down your spine.
“Fuck take me to your room” Bucky was quick to oblige and picked you up before he led you two to his room.
Once he made it to his room he kicked the door open before gently placing you on his bad and then shut the door. He took a second to admire you laying on his bed. Sure the two of you have had sex before but for some reason this time felt different. While he loves fucking you hard and making you scream he also loves taking his time with his precious girl.
“I need you baby” You beg sitting up on your knees and beckoning him over to you. He quickly walked over to you from the door and grasped your chin in his metal hand lightly.
“You have me babydoll” He cooed in your ear as he began to kiss your neck making you shiver. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him on top of you causing you to lay against his pillows.
Bucky nipped and sucked dark marks onto your neck making sure to mark you as his. “Fuck Jamie please” You begged the solider grabbing the hem of his shirt attempting to take it off.
“Patience babydoll patience. I wanna make my girl feel good. I haven’t tasted you in a while baby” Bucky replied gently rubbing his hands up and down your exposed thighs. You released a pathetic whimper at his words that made him smile.
And before you could even process what what happening Bucky tore your clothes off and left them in a pile on the floor. You went to protest him ripping off your bra and underwear but it was already too late for that. Bucky took a moment to appreciate how beautiful you looked laying under him. It doesn’t matter how many times he sees you like it. Every time makes his heart swell and his cock stir in his jeans.
“Such a pretty doll” He praised running his hands over your soft and warm skin. You sucked in a breath when you felt his metal hand tweak one of your nipples and pull slightly.
“Oh fuck” The words spilled passed your lips in the form of a sinful moan. “Please daddy i need you so bad” You continued to beg and finally got his shirt off.
“Okay okay” He chuckles and makes his way in between your thighs. Bucky takes a second to admire how wet you are for him, all spread out and glistening with your own juices. “My pretty baby” He praised again before licking your clit to tease you.
“Oh J-Jamie” You moaned back arching off the bed as Bucky dived into your pussy. He spread your lips with his metal fingers and wrapped his lops around your little bundle of nerves. The way he sucked on you was making your mind go fuzzy and you r orgasm build.
On the flip side Bucky was trying to control his urge to dry hump the mattress as he ate you out. He was so lost in the way you tasted and the you were moaning for him. Bucky ate you out like a man starved alternating between licking and sucking your clit which in turn was leaving you a babbling mess.
“I-I’m gonna cum” You practically scream out clawing at his back as you feel your orgasm wash over you. The feeling was so intense you didn’t even realize that he put two of his flesh fingers in you.
“Give me one more before i breed you” He demanded and you involuntarily clench around his fingers as he hits your g-spot. You threw your head back against the pillows and arched your back when he curled his fingers in you. He was soft yet going hard enough to make you mewl around his fingers.
“Oh baby- i-im gonna cum again” Bucky smiled at your words and picked up the pace a little making sure to hit all the right spots. He kept thrusting into you making you cry out in pleasure as you feel your second orgasm build up and crash over you. And just like before you were so blissed out to even notice that you squirted all over his stomach and fingers.
“What a good girl” Bucky smiled pulling his fingers out of you and then licking them clean with a deep guttural moan. “So sweet too” He smiled and came back up to your face and brought you in for a sweet kiss.
You kissed him back with the same passion while you tried to take off his pants but failed to which he laughed. “Here let me babygirl” He chuckled and swiftly removed his jeans and boxers leaving him bare in front of you. Luckily for you Bucky was so hard to the point that he didn’t spend anytime teasing you. He gave himself a few tugs to get him even harder before he lined his head up with your entrance.
“You ready bub?” He asked bringing one of his hands up to your cheek and rubbed it gently. All you could do in that moment was nod enthusiastically. He slowly inched himself into you causing you to suck in a breath at the stretch. He started thrusting into you slowly being careful not to hurt his precious doll.
“Ugh you feel so fucking good baby” Bucky grunted in your ear slowly picking up his pace. Your hands flew to his shoulders and you held him closer.
“God youre so good daddy” You moaned into his ear as he thrusted into you a little harder. You could feel your muscles tighten around his cock essentially choking his cock.
“Gonna fill you up pretty girl.. gonna make you a mommy” His words threw you over the edge and into your now third orgasm.
“Please please breed me daddy” You begged breathlessly mewling at every thrust. “Wanna be a mommy PLEASE!” You screamed when he started to thrust into you harder clearly chasing his own high.
“Fuck baby. Fucking take it like the good girl you are. Take it all baby” He grunted as he felt his balls tighten. “FUCKFUCKFUCK!” It didn’t take much longer for him to fully spill his seed into you and fucking it back into you to endure youll get pregnant. Once he finished filling you he slowly pulled out and then laid by your side attempting to catch his breath.
“Did you mean it?” You asked rolling over on your side and then laying in his chest. “Do you really wanna have kids with me?” The question came out a little bit more insecure than you wanted but oh well.
“Of course i do baby. I want nothing more than to start a family with you doll” He said happily as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead and then wrapped his arm around your waist.
“Do you think I’ll get pregnant from this time?” Bucky chuckled at your question which made you furrow your brows in confusion.
“If it didn’t then we will keep going til you do babydoll” He kissed you again and you never felt more loved or happy in that moment.
The rest of the night was spent giving each other sweet kisses and Bucky showing you just how much he wanted a family with you.
And nine months later you welcomed your adorable daughter Lilith mae rose barnes to the world.
~The end~
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buckyalpine · 5 months
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I live for the angst where Sharon/people call reader fat and make fun of her not knowing she's pregnant and Bucky protects the ever living fuck out of her because that's his gorgeous babymama. Bonus when Sharon is a jealous hoe. Throw in some protective avengers in there too. Breeding kink? Pregnancy kink? Also yes. He's a feral, horny little shit here, I apologize.
You huffed as you buttoned your jeans, the waistband sitting snugly around your waist, pressing into your skin a little bit more than usual. You dug through the closet to find one of Bucky's hoodies to slip on, loving the way the soft material engulphed you in his scent.
You weren't showing much yet but your body was certainly changing. Your sense of smell was heightened, constantly craving to be surrounded by your boyfriends smell. Your breasts were growing heavier and your clothes were more fitting than before. Cravings had already started. Your cheeks were a tad fuller and you were certainly glowing.
Bucky's super soldier serum was no joke.
You made your way down to make something for breakfast, grabbing a bag of peppermint tea to help with some of the nausea you had been experiencing. Sharon sauntered into the kitchen, still clad in her tiny workout clothes as she went to the fridge to grab a water bottle.
"Hey Sharon" You smiled as you poured water into your mug while munching on a cookie, grabbing another when your tummy rumbled. Baby Barnes clearly took after daddy, craving anything and everything sweet. And salty. And sweet and salty.
"Hey y/n" Sharon's eyes looked at you up and down, cocking her head slightly while you snacked, rummaging around for something else to eat. "Might wanna cut down a little there, huh" She teased, nodding to the potato chip you popped into your mouth.
"What?" You weren't sure you heard correctly, setting down the bag while she pursed her lips.
"Oh, nothing. I don't know how you eat that stuff, it's so greasy"
"Hm, yeah I guess" You gave her a weak smile, her words causing the insecurities you were already feeling about your body to creep back up again. You had a heavy feeling in your chest, seeing her flit about the kitchen, still perfectly toned. You shook those thoughts away, remembering the reason beautiful your body was different but it didn't do much.
The words still stung.
You decided to make your way back to your room to wait for Bucky to return from his morning jog with Steve, passing by one of the new trainees as you left the kitchen. Their hushed whispers caused you to stop in your tracks, your stomach dropping when you heard what they were saying.
"She's getting fat" Sharon snorted, hardly noticing you weren't out of ear shot while the trainee giggled along with her, nodding in agreement.
"Oh my God, you should've seen her at the gym yesterday. She was breathing so hard while running on the treadmill, I thought she was going to pass out. I don't even think she lasted 5 minutes before calling it quits" The trainee replied while Sharon rolled her eyes.
"She's gonna looked like a beached whale if she keeps eating like that, I swear she finished the entire row single handedly"
"I don't get what Bucky is doing with her. Honestly, I'm not even complaining. If she gets any fatter he's gonna leave her so maybe that'll make it easier for me" Sharon cackled along with the girl, the both of them snickering while swooning over the soldier. "He's so hot. I don't get what the hell he's doing with her, he can do so much better. Just wait till I show him, he'll see what he's missed out on"
You hardly realized you'd broken down into tears, slapping a hand over your mouth to keep from sobbing. You ran to your shared bedroom as fast as you could before anyone else saw you, closing the door and instructing FRIDAY to keep everyone out. You threw your jeans off, hating the way they were tighter on you, curling up under the covers, muffling your cries into the pillow.
-
Bucky ran his fingers through his short locks, making his way to the kitchen to grab some water after his run, smiling to himself knowing how much you loved to slink around him whenever he worked out. He loved how needy and cuddly you were, always burying your face into his neck of chest, trying to crawl up him like a tree.
"Where are you babygirl" Bucky called for you, expecting to see you in the perched in the kitchen with your pepper mint tea you'd recently been relying on, only to find a full mug without you in sight. Sharon and the new agent were still there, both of them eyeing him up and down, hoping to get his attention.
"Hey Sarge-
"Have you seen y/n" Bucky cut Sharon off, still looking around for you. Sharon rolled her eyes again, stating she hadn't seen you at all, since she'd spend her own morning working out. Bucky frowned, picking up the still hot tea, taking it up as he made his way to the bedroom.
"Sweeheart?" Bucky called for you softly, his heart racing when he hard soft sniffles from the other side of the door, his anxiety spiking when the door was locked. "Baby, are you okay? Can you open the door please?"
You hiccupped, trying to calm yourself down hearing Bucky's worried voice, quickly wiping your face before getting out of bed to open the door for him. His heart broke seeing his sweet girl with red rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks from crying, pulling you into him while shutting the door behind him.
"What's wrong mama" Bucky cooed, hugging you tightly while you whimpered in his hold, your insecurities at an all time high as he slipped his hand under your hoodie to stroke the bare skin of your back.
"Am I fat?" You whispered, worried the question would make realize you were less attractive, a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face.
"What?" Bucky pulled away, shock evident on his face while you stared at your feet, swallowing nervously.
"Please don't make me say it"
"Sweetheart, look at me" He held your face firmly in his hands making you look a him, "Why would you ask such a thing"
"I-I heard some people talking in the kitchen. Said I'm fat" If it wasn't for Bucky's enhanced hearing, he would've missed your fallen voice as you hide your face in his chest again.
"Absolutely not baby, who said that to you" Bucky held back on the red hot anger that surged through him, needing to comfort you first before raining hell on whoever hurt you.
"But I am Bucky!" You cried in frustration, pulling away from his hold. "It looks awful and I'm just going to keep getting bigger, I- I get if you don't find me as attractive-
"Hey, hey, stop, baby look at me" Bucky stopped your rambling, pulling you back into him, his hands holding your face firmly, "Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are to me? Hm? Do you have any idea how insanely attracted I've been to you ever since you told me you're pregnant?"
You shook your head, your heart jolting when he pushed himself against you, letting you feel the hardness between his legs, poorly contained in his joggers.
"Bucky-
"C'mere" Bucky threw your hoodie off before stripping his own clothes aside, his hard cock angry and leaking, desperate to fill you. "M'gonna show you baby"
He didn't give you a second to protest, carrying you over to bed and laying you down, spreading your legs apart, flicking his cock against your clit before tracing it down to your entrance and shoving himself home.
"Bucky!" you moaned, your legs moving on their own to wrap around his waist as he started to move, throbbing the entire time.
"You're so fuckin' beautiful mama, if you weren't pregnant already, we'd be in here all day till you were" Bucky groaned, grabbing and caressing your soft skin, already leaking into you. "You're gonna look so sexy when your belly gets all round, when these breasts get all big, they're gonna leak so much carrying my baby"
He moved to tug your swollen nipples between his pink lips, groaning at the thought of how sweet your milk would taste. Your back arched off the bed from how sensitive they were, your cunt fluttering around his cock, sucking him in deeper.
"I already know you're gonna get so swollen mama, its my baby in your belly. Did you forget its my cum that got you pregnant? Did you forget there's all that serum in my cock baby? I got you fuckin' pregnant, I'm you're babydaddy, I can't wait to see you get all tired, pouty and big with my super soldier baby"
"Oh fuck Bucky" you wailed, his words making your heart swell while your pussy nearly squirted as he hit that spongy spot deep in you, "P-please don't-don't stop"
"I won't stop baby, couldn't even if I wanted to, y'feel too good. Fuck, just knowing you're pregnant makes me so hard, can't believe I knocked suck a pretty little thing up, so lucky I got to stuff you nice and full"
Bucky started to fuck you harder till he headboard added new dents to the wall since the extra strength walls Tony added had nothing on Bucky's stamina and strength.
"Can't wait till everyone sees how pretty you're gonna look, m'gonna show you off, make sure everyone knows you're my girl, the love of my life, that you're carrying a piece of me in you"
"But- but what if they think-I won't look-" You're insecurities tried to sneak back in but Bucky wasn't having any of it, shutting ha down immediately.
"I'll fuck you in front of them. You think I give a fuck? I'll bend this pretty ass over, hold that perfectly round belly and stuff my cock in you till it leaks and makes a mess on the floor. I'll show them exactly what I did to get you that big in the first place, let them see how swollen my cock gets for you, goddamn, I'm gonna cum!"
Bucky fucked you hard and fast, letting you feel him in your stomach, not holding back one bit, his hand flying to grip onto the headboard.
"Bucky-Bucky gonna-I'm gonna-!OH GOD" You let out a silent scream, cumming around him without warning, your pregnancy making you extra sensitive, being able to orgasm without him even touching you.
"This sweet, soft fuckin' body" Bucky's pace faltered, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, "So good to me, so fuckin' good!, gonna cum mama, gonna give you more of my cream, gonna full that pussy up n'keep you pregnant forever, take it gorgeous, fuckin' beautiful, no one makes me hard like this, m'gonna cum so hard-fuck-fuck-FUCCCKKK M'CUMMING" Bucky roared against your neck, his cock bursting with ropes of cum, emptying his balls dry with sloppy thrusts until the sheets were soaked. You both panted, sweat covering your bodies, the sweet, primal smell of sex filling the room making your practically purr.
"You're the most beautiful thing to ever happen to me. I love you no matter what. You're stunning to me at any size, pregnant or not, don't you ever forget it" Bucky held you firmly, brushing his hands over your belly, pressing a kiss to your temple. You nodded, already feeling better, nervousness replacing your previous anxiety because you knew Bucky wouldn't let the incident slide.
"Who made you feel this way baby" His voice was gentle but he wasn't leaving any room for negotiation.
"Just leave it Bucky" You shrugged, not wanting to make it a big deal but he shook his head.
"Can't do that sugar. No one makes my doll upset. You get some rest alright? let me make you lunch and we'll take a nap after"
You nodded, letting him slip his henley over your head, grabbing some comfy sweats for you to wear and throwing on his own clothes before heading down. You froze as you neared the kitchen seeing everyone else downstairs gathered for lunch which was a rare sight but there had been less mission recently meaning everyone was home. Bucky gave your hand a comforting squeeze, a stark contrast the to protective anger he felt again.
"Who the fuck spoke about y/n" Bucky stormed down, silence filling the room immediatly, everyone staring at each other in confusion while Sharon's face filled with guilt. "Well?!"
"What happened Buck, Steve and I were training this morning" Sam said honestly, while the others nodded in agreement, still looking at each other wondering what was going on. "You okay, sweetheart?"
"Well someone said something because she was upset in our bedroom and it happened today" Bucky had a good feeling about who caused your distress, knowing no one else would ever do such a thing but he wasn't about to call out Sharon ha easily, seeing her already squirming in discomfort.
"There's an easy solution to all this, give me a second" Tony typed something into his phone before calling for Friday, "FRIDAY can you play back the audio from this morning from when y/n was in here"
"Certainly, Mr. Stark"
The audio started with you greeting Sharon, followed by her comment and then the conversation she had with the new trainee. Shock and gasps filled the room, everyone glaring at the blonde with disgust while she shook her head, her stomach churning.
"I-I didn't say anything! That wasn't even me!"
"Really? Then who the fuck was it" Bucky spat, ready to jump her across the table, his fists balled at his side. Sharon huffed, biting her lip while Bucky continued to glare at her, still holding your hand softly in his. His anger only flared more, thinking about how she thought she could replace you.
"Fine! I said it! But was I wrong? She is bigger than before" Sharon weakly defended herself, trembling when Bucky flinched, his self restraint growing thinner. Your eyes grew steamy, squeaking when Bucky moved to wrap his arm around your tummy, slipping it under your shirt.
"Cause she's pregnant. With my baby. I'm her babydaddy. I got her pregnant. You wanna know how? I fucked her. So hard. I didn't just fuck her, I made love to her cause she's my girl. Do you have any idea how attracted I am to her? How much cum there was? I didn't pull out once. She's so tight around my cock, its hard not to fill her up. Just kept going until my dick started to hurt and even then, I didn't wanna pull out"
Sam smirked at Bucky's utterly unhinged, x-rated rambling while Steve buried his red face in his hands. Tony cackled from the side while Nat patiently waited to get a chance to lay her hands on Sharon on Bucky's behalf.
"I-I get it, enough-
"You're delusional if you think I'd ever leave her for you. This is the love of my life. She's giving me a baby. She's beautiful. I chose this woman because she's special, she's this one I want to have a family with. You know what, you better get used to it cause I'm gonna get her pregnant again and again and it won't be hard considering how badly I constantly want her. In fact, we fucked just now, tell your little friend that"
"Oh my god" Sharon huffed, harshly wiping her tear streaked face, ready to throw up from embarrassment. She choked a sob, running out without looking back, Bucky's words tearing her apart. Everyone ignored her presence, immediately piling onto you with hugs, kisses and congratulations instead.
"Congratulations, babydaddy" Sam grinned, playfully nudging Bucky's shoulder making him blush, his arms still wrapped around your tummy. "And to you, little mama"
"I call god father" Steve announced, kissing your cheek before pulling Bucky into a tight hug, happy for his best friend and you.
Nat cracked a few knuckles, giving you a quick peck on the head, promising to celebrate later before following Sharon out, ready to hand her ass to her. The little trainee would be next.
"So what you're both saying is there's gonna be another super soldier running around here?" Tony's eyes lit up with excitement and a dash of fear when he remembered the baby would also be surrounded by idiots like Sam and Steve. He'd have to reinforce everything.
Immediately.
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tom-holland-parker · 1 year
Text
Closer
Summary: You’d never felt like this before, it was like some primal instinct deep down inside of you. You just needed to be close to him. The only problem was that you were already wrapped in his arms and it still didn’t feel close enough
Warning: 18+ smut (cockwarming, boob worship?)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word count: 620
Masterlist
You’d never felt like this before, it was like some primal instinct deep down inside of you. You just needed to be close to him. The only problem was that you were already wrapped in his arms and it still didn’t feel close enough. 
“Can you lay on top of me?” You asked quietly into Bucky’s neck
“What” he chuckled, “No i’ll crush you”
You scoffed and rolled your eyes, your arms squeezing him tighter as if that would solve your problem, “yes that’s the point, please I just want to be close to you” 
“You do realize that your entire body is wrapped around mine” His hands moved to rub your back, “If you were any closer I’d be inside of you”
“That's it” You gasped, eyes lighting up at the idea, “Let me cockwarm you”
Bucky laughed, “what has gotten into you tonight”
“We can fuck first if you want too but just don’t pull out after” You whined, already throbbing at the thought of him being buried deep inside you, “Please I just want to feel you all over”
He smiled, getting hard just from your desperate words. Without another thought his hand moved down the curves of your body until he reached your underwear. A low whimper left your mouth as he cupped your pussy through the thin fabric, “oh baby you’re soaked”
Your hips began to shamelessly grind on his hands slowly, “I just need you so bad, please”. Your eyes were shut as you began to kiss and lick his neck in the spots that always made him weak in the knees.
Easily giving in, he made quick work of pulling his now hard cock out of his boxers. Before you knew it he was slowly thrusting inside of you, wanting to stretch you out and have you filled to the brim with his cock. “Oh fuck that feels good” You moaned as your hands gripped his biceps
“Yeah” His arms wrapped around your body, leaving you stuck and helpless, “This is just what you need right. My good girl just needed me to fill her up” His voice, sweet like honey, ignited a fire inside you. He was right, you needed this. You needed him to hold you tightly and fuck you just right, his cock hitting all the right places.
You hand moved to your tits, fingers pulling and teasing your nipples. Bucky’s eyes couldn’t leave your body, the way you were openly doing whatever it took to make yourself feel good just made him want you even more. He lets out a deep growl as he moves to grip your ass, “Look at you, playing with your tits like a little slut. Are you gonna make yourself cum baby”
His hand moves between your bodies down to your clit, his fingers rubbing the sensitive bud. “Oh” You gasped as your hips began to move, meeting all his thrust, “I’m gonna cum, don't stop”
“Go on, be a good girl, cum for me” Bucky moans as he moves your hands from your nipples and replaces his mouth, sucking and gently biting down. “Cum for me so I can fill you up and keep you stuffed with my cock”
The promise of him letting you cockwarm him while you were full of his cum set you off. Your thighs tightened as you came around his cock. Bucky followed quickly behind, his tongue flicking your nipples as his cum poured into you. 
You took a deep breath, coming down from the high of your orgasm. “Thank you” You breathlessly said as you rested your head on his shoulder. Bucky smiled and kissed your forehead and adjusted himself further inside you, fulfilling his promise, “anytime”
//
TAGLIST
@wildxwidow @marvelgurl @inas-thing @hehehehannahthings @prancerrparkerr @randomwriter1021 @hunnybunimdun @raajali3 @liltimmyst
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antiquarianfics · 3 months
Text
I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa
Becca Barnes is generally not a serious child. She is, on the contrary, quite the opposite. She’s a silly, carefree, easy-going kid, so whenever her demeanor changes to the opposite, it is an immediate red flag that something is wrong.
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a/n: silly little rewrite of something i wrote in high school, but better than when i wrote it then. enjoy!
warnings: none!! well, it’s not proofed.
You’re standing in the kitchen on Christmas morning; it had become a small tradition to make Christmas themed pancakes on Christmas morning. Bucky is sitting at the island behind you, nursing a cup of coffee. You flip a santa hat pancake right as the small putter patter of your daughter makes its way closer to you.
“G’mornin’, bug,” Bucky greets his daughter.
“Morning, sweetheart,” you say at the same time. Smiling, you turn to face your daughter. “Do you want some pancakes, Becs?”
To your surprise, Becca shakes her head no. This development allows for you to truly take in her demeanor. The young girl is looking at you with contempt; her lip is pouted.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” You ask, your eyebrows pushing together in concern. You glance at Bucky who shrugs, but he looks equally as concerned.
Becca ignores you, walking up to her daddy and tugging on the leg of his pajama pants.
“What is it?” He asks.
“I have’ta tell you something, Daddy,” she says. “It’s a secret, though.” Becca finally speaks.
Bucky glances at you and back at his daughter. He slides off the bar stool and lets his daughter drag him into the other room.
You wait in the kitchen, confused, but continuing to make your pancakes as you wait for Bucky and Becca to return.
After a few minutes, Bucky returns with a shit eating grin on his face. You raise an eyebrow at him. He merely shakes his head with a laugh. Becca is following him, and she looks perplexed at her father’s laughter and carefree demeanor.
Bucky picks up his daughter, setting the 6 year old down at the island. He walks around, turning off the stove before you can protest, and moving you to sit across from Becca at the island. Then, he moves back to the other side, taking a seat next to his daughter.
“What’s going on?” You ask.
“Well, Doll, Becca saw something last night, and she’s worried about us.”
Your eyebrows raise in surprise, and you feel your heart rate rise in fear and whatever could have scared your baby.
Before you speak, Bucky continues, “Becca, do you want to tell Mama what you told me?”
Becca shakes her head, not looking at you. Bucky chuckles.
“Well, Mama, Becca thought she heard Santa Clause in the living room last night, so she snuck out of bed to see if she could catch him,” Bucky explains.
Your eyes widen as you slowly begin to put two and two together.
“She did, in fact, catch Santa, but he wasn’t putting presents under the tree.”
“Oh,” you say, involuntarily.
Becca’s eyes snap towards you as if you’ve admitted to the crime she has accused you of.
“Yeah,” Bucky nods gravely. “Becca saw you kissing Santa Clause last night.”
You stare at Bucky, perplexed. How were you going to get out of this without telling your 6 year old Santa wasn’t real? You and Bucky have a silent conversation before he turns back to Becca, gently placing his hand on her shoulder.
“Becca, Mommy and I are going to tell you a secret.”
Becca looks up at her father, nodding, taking in every word he has to tell her. She needs to know what she saw.
“That wasn’t Santa Clause you saw.”
“Then who was it?”
“That was me dressed up like Santa.”
“Why were you dressed up like Santa?”
“Because sometimes Santa has a hard time getting to the house of every. single. kid. in the world, so he calls parents to help him out. Because Mommy and I are superheroes, he thought we could help him bring some presents to you.” Bucky’s lie slides off his tongue, and you can’t help but let out the breath you were holding.
“So Santa sent me a costume to wear just in case you woke up.” Bucky shrugs.
Becca looks between her parents, sizing your lie up. Finally she nods and points to the pile of pancakes near the stove.
“Can I have a pancake now?”
“Sure thing, kiddo,” you say before serving her one.
Bucky gets up, slides behind you, and whispers in your ear.
“Becca saw her mommy kissing Santa Clause,” he teases.
“Not my fault Santa wanted to get her a baby brother for Christmas,” you sigh, plating another pancake to hand to him.
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thevillainswhore · 20 days
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New Tricks: A Pure Love
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Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Word Count: 11.5k
Summary: From first kisses to first dates, the two of you have come a long way from pining over the other in secret and innocent touches during an unplanned movie night. But now, what once was a forbidden fantasy for an unattainable crush becomes reality when you coach Bucky Barnes through losing his virginity.
Warnings: College AU, brother’s best friend!Bucky, fluff, swearing, teasing, smut, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v sex, nipple play, handjob, praise kink, size kink, big hints of subby Bucky, dorky Bucky, love confessions.
Author’s Note: Beta and dividers by @rookthorne, she’s been my rock through this whole AU. Words will never be enough to thank you my love ❤️ Here is part three and the final instalment to New Tricks’ main storyline 🥹
New Tricks Masterlist 🌼🐾
New Tricks Playlist 🎵
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Your evening together has been magical, something pulled straight out of your dreams. The visuals of the bright, glowing stars and planets are nothing in comparison to the smile that pulls at Bucky’s mouth, even after the two of you left the museum.
During the walk back to your dorm with Bucky, he talks constantly and animatedly about the planetarium — recounting his joy for all the astronomical wonders he got to witness up close. And listening to your boyfriend’s contagious glee for a date you put together has you grinning from ear to ear.
In the late hour, you make a stop on your way back to the local twenty-four hour dessert parlour that is close to your dorm, opting for two single scoop ice cream cones. Bucky chose chocolate; you chose strawberry, and you stroll hand in hand down the Brooklyn cobblestones.
 
“I still can’t believe you don’t like chocolate ice cream, Bee,” Bucky accuses with his mouth full, shaking his head with a high sense of mock disapproval.
You roll your eyes playfully and scoff. He hasn’t stopped complaining about your dislike for chocolate flavoured treats since you revealed that snippet of information while you perused the options available to you at the parlour. “How many times are we going to go over this, Buck? Strawberry is superior,” you tell him with a proud smile. 
“Absolutely not!” Bucky gasps, outraged. “I refuse to listen to this slander against chocolate.” 
“Drama—” Your retort is cut short by him pressing you against the wall of the building next to you. The cone of ice cream in your hand almost topples precariously, interrupting you mid lick, and he ignores your surprised shout of, “Hey!”
“We are settling this right now, Buttercup.” He looks deep into your eyes with dire seriousness. “You’re gonna try mine and tell me that you like it.” The cone of chocolate ice cream appears in your peripheral vision. 
“Bucky!” You laugh. “I haven’t tried chocolate ice cream in years!” 
“All the more reason to try it now.” He holds his cone up to your mouth, a twinkle in his bright blue eyes and a pout on his plump lips. “For me?”
“Y’know, you can’t keep bribing me with those puppy eyes — No matter how handsome you are.”
With a cheeky smile, he whispers, “Is it working, though?” 
Sighing in defeat, you can’t help the upturn of your lips at his charm. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Hit me with it.” 
Like the cat who got the cream, Bucky closes the gap between you and the cold treat, letting it slightly touch your lips — the cold sensation makes you shiver, and you tentatively stick your tongue out, slowly laving it up the side of the scoop of ice cream. 
The strong taste of cocoa and sugar doesn’t impress you, and you flick your gaze towards your boyfriend to say as such, only, he’s homed in on the motion of your tongue while you lick the last remnants of cream from your lips. 
He shudders, the strong line of his shoulders shaking with the force of them, and he pants quietly. The rise and fall of his chest is uneven while his blue eyes darken to a stormy grey. 
It's difficult to contain the satisfied smirk growing on your lips as you ask teasingly, “You good, baby?” 
Bucky gulps, unsuspecting of such an innocent act to affect him so much. “I’m uh— I’m good.” His head bobs up and down, no real confidence in his answer, but his stare still pins you in place and he bites his bottom lip. “How’d you like it?”
 
“Hmm,” you hum, then you lick your lips again — just to make sure they are entirely clean, of course. Bucky’s eyes follow the movement with rapt attention. “I have to say…” The urge to use pretence to answer his question makes you want to burst into laughter, but you soldier on with the truth. “I’m sorry, honey. I still stand by my initial statement.” 
The erratic movements of his chest abruptly cease, and his eyes never leave yours while you lean forward, closer to his lips. “But,” you whisper, the tips of your fingers dancing up his chest. Every touch builds the deepening tension swirling in his eyes. “It doesn’t hurt to try something new every so often, Puppy.” 
You reach up to the corner of his mouth and swipe the smudge of chocolate ice cream left there with your thumb, then suck it into your mouth, releasing it with a wet pop — it feels like you well and truly break his resistance. 
Bucky’s fingers twitch against the cone by your lips, and it crumbles. The forceful puffs of air from his parted lips blow against your mouth, the inevitability of him pouncing on you any second undeniable. 
Rather than making it easier on him, you smirk and push him back by his shoulder. “Never hurts to experiment — Try new things. You never know.”
The dazed expression on his features is innocently sweet, and you try not to laugh as he reaches out for you to drag you back, but you dodge his hands and walk away, out of reach. You look at him over your shoulder and lick up the dribbling cream that almost reaches your hand. 
Bucky stares after you, mouth agape. “I— What—” He shakes himself back to reality, and he licks his lips, brushing his long hair back with his fingers and he throws his crumbled ice cream cone into the nearest trash can — no longer interested in that sweet treat. 
Bucky’s long strides work to catch up with you, a new kind of spark in his eyes you haven’t seen before. “Something new, huh?” 
“Yeah, handsome,” you purr. The steps to your apartment come up, and you take the first few with your back to Bucky, a smirk playing on your lips. Just as you reach the entryway door, you look over your shoulder at your boyfriend, who returns your coy smile with a hesitant one of his own. “Sometimes you’ve got to just let go and give in.”
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Bucky stands behind you while you unlock the door to your dorm. The material of his button up shirt scrapes against the bare skin of your arm, and you try to suppress the shiver that runs down your spine, but it's useless. The air is charged with a thick tension unfamiliar between the two of you, and you feel as though you're swimming in new territory, wading into the depths of the unknown. 
“I had a great time tonight, Bee,” Bucky says quietly over your shoulder; the urge to kiss the skin there too tempting for him not to fall into. 
A shiver ripples down your spine from the sensation of his lips tickling your skin, and you stop just as you’re about to open the door. They move carefully over the slope of your neck and up to the lobe of your ear. 
Reining in your arousal, you turn around and agree with a broad smile. “Me too, handsome.” 
His eyes flicker between you and the door to your dorm. You hold his hand while the other rests on the handle behind you. “Ready to go in?” you ask. 
Bucky clears his throat. “Mhm,” he mumbles, and with his confirmation, you open the door. Immediately, the glow of orange lights grab his attention as they dance on the ceiling. Lit candles are placed on surfaces around the room, while your vinyl record turntable plays soft music.
The ambiance seems to both intrigue and calm Bucky, and you feel your own shoulders loosen. Thank you, Nat, you think inwardly.  
“Come on,” you whisper, urging Bucky further into your dorm room. He walks forward wordlessly, and with him out of the way, you close and lock the door behind you both — it affords you a solitary second to process the secret desire that has been stored away for so long. 
A guilty pleasure about your brother’s best friend that you revelled in at one point in time is becoming a reality. 
There is no means to do that now, to stow it away in secrecy — he stood behind you, right there in reach of you, no longer a fantasy. 
The door locks with a muffled click, and you turn around to see Bucky standing by the foot of your bed, head bowed and fiddling with the hair tie around his wrist. Slowly and steadily, you edge closer to him, careful not to make any sudden movements that will spook him. “Bucky?”
His body tenses slightly, his shoulders almost reaching his ears as you near him.
“Sweetheart?” you repeat, and you tuck back some of the hair that kept him hidden — a curtain he didn’t want to peer through. A dazzling pair of ocean blue eyes meet your own; swimming with anxiety and the desperate craving for direction. 
“Hi, you.” Your voice soothes him, and he instantly melts into you — callused, trembling hands rush to seek contact, finding their home around your waist.
“Hi, Bee,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours. 
The soft instrumental of guitar chords pacifies the ambience. “How are we doing?” you ask gently. 
Bucky swallows the lump in his throat, and there’s a shaky, tremulous quality to his voice when he answers with, “Nervous.” 
You place a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, hoping to calm him. “About what, baby?” 
Leaning slightly backward to better look into his eyes, you notice there is a storm of emotions swirling through his irises. In an attempt to soothe the hurricane, you comfortingly rub your hands down his muscled arms. 
“S— Sex.” His neck flushes with patchy red blotches; a staple of whenever he is flustered. 
You hum soothingly and nod your head, acknowledging his worries. “You know, we don’t have to do it if you feel like you’ve changed your mind, sweetheart. I was nervous for my first time, too.” Your fingers wrap around his arm to squeeze gently, grounding him in the wallow of nerves. “It’s okay if you’re not ready.” 
“No.” Bucky shakes his head, gulping. “I— I want this. I really want this.” There is such conviction and assurity in his voice that you cannot help but kiss him softly. He pulls back and his breath shudders. 
“You’re completely sure about this?” you ask once more, making sure to give him the space to reject your advances if he feels the need to. 
“Mm.” Bucky nuzzles into your neck, taking comfort in your embrace as he mumbles into your skin, “With everything I have.” 
You grasp his face into your hands with the most care and love you can possibly manifest to bring him out of his safe retreat, and you connect your lips with his again. 
The motion comes easy to Bucky now, natural. He has no fear and certainly no hesitation to kiss you the way he likes, with tenderness and an urge to claim you as his own — his mouth moves over yours in a synchronised dance, the steps familiar, but it still feels new, thrilling in nature.  
Snaking your hands down from his cheeks, your fingers leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake over his neck. They stop over his collar, and you look into his eyes to gain permission to undress him. “Can I?” 
“Yeah.” He’s relaxed enough in your hold to not allow nerves to hinder him just yet. 
You begin to make your way down his covered chest, and with the utmost care, you unfasten each button effortlessly — tan skin, smooth as silk and dotted with a pattern of sun kissed freckles, is revealed with each undone button, and you have to tamper down your impatience to rip the shirt straight off of his shoulders. 
“You’re so gorgeous, Bucky,” you breathe in disbelief, and your palms slither back up his body, sneaking over the ridges of his abs. “And all mine.”
“Ah–” Bucky gasps and jolts — your nails, longer than usual, brush over a responsive area of his stomach and you grin into his neck. 
You skim the tips of your fingers over the planes of his pecs, and over his shoulders to finally slide off the material veiling the godly sight of his body to you. Of course, you have already seen your boyfriend without a shirt on before, but right now, in the glow of the candlelight and the orange hues dancing over his skin, he looks like he’s been sculpted from the angels themselves.
“Bee…” A dust of pink decorates his high cheekbones, still ever so shy with your compliments. 
You open your mouth to reply, but Bucky thoroughly shocks you as he begins to unbuckle his belt, the muscles in his stomach tensing as his hands work to free the leather from his slacks. 
You watch, breathless, while he pulls down the slacks to reveal a pair of tight black briefs that do nothing to hide the growing bulge. Bucky is fucking huge, that much you make out from the strain of the material, and you’re almost sure he isn’t even fully hard. 
“Oh my god.” The sensation of your quiet divulgence against his ear elicits a sudden moan from his lips. You will never tire of being the cause of that sound. 
The rush his vocalised pleasure evokes has you beginning to reach behind your back to unzip your dress. However, Bucky hesitantly stops your hands in their haste. “C— Can I do it?” he stutters, eyes wide and glossy. “Can I undress you — Please?” 
It would be a crime to not allow him after a plea so sweet. 
With your nod of approval, he takes a deep breath, calming his nerves before he makes his way behind you. You feel his fingers hover over your back, tentative and unsure and it takes him a moment until he sighs in finality. 
He pinches the zipper, tiny in his long fingers, and he slowly descends the barrier downwards. The spaghetti straps slip off one by one — his knuckles gently skim over your shoulders until they trail down your arms, and with a quiet flutter, the entirety of your dress falls to the floor, leaving you in just your lingerie.
You wait patiently, letting Bucky take in every inch of your half naked form. Moments pass by and your combined breaths — one steady, the other erratic — ricochet through the room. 
“Sweetheart?” You feel the strands of his long hair sweep across your skin as he looks up at the sound of your voice. “Would you like to get my bra?” It’s an offer, a choice for him to decide on his own terms without the pressure. 
Stunning you with his growing confidence, he begins to unfasten the material — the straps fall down your arms with ease and you gently let it drop to the floor. 
Bucky gulps harshly, then. The realisation that your breasts are on display for the first time to his eyes hitting him like a truck. 
Stepping around your figure to come to your front, he keeps his eyes on your face, never once looking away as he kneels to the ground. His nimble fingers work to slip your heels off, taking care to help you place your bare feet down onto the carpet without letting you trip, and he kisses your lower thighs. Once he’s finished, the palms of his hands rub up the back of your calves and squeeze while he rises to stand.  
His gaze still doesn’t stray. 
“You can look, Bucky — It’s okay.” 
Only with your go ahead do his eyes dart down, taking the entirety of your body in at once. A harsh inhale of breath catches in his throat, the rise and fall of his chest is rapid while his fingers twitch by his sides. His gaze locks onto your breasts — guilty as charged with his basic instincts.
“Puppy,” you call out to him, parsing through the growing fog of desperate need in his mind, visible by the glint of hunger across his irises. “Come here.” 
His eyes shoot up, searching your expression for any sense of mocking, and he finds none. There is a desperate gleam in his cloudy, misted gaze — frantic for guidance and reassurance still. “Come here, baby,” you whisper, holding your hands out for him to grab hold of. “It’s alright.”
The steps Bucky takes are rigid, robotic — not allowing himself to lose what little control he has left. You vow to change that. He stops at a small distance in front of you, further away than you care for, and you take the bait to bring yourself closer until your nipples skim across the bare planes of his skin. 
The sensation steals your breath away, and Bucky squeezes his eyes closed, clenching his fists at his sides — it takes you back to your movie night together all that time ago, when the voice in his mind told him to hold back, to not give in to the urge to reach out instead. 
And that just wouldn’t do.
“None of that, sweetheart,” you coo, softly. “I’m gonna need you to open your eyes so I can see you.”
Like magic, he flickers his eyes open, and he swallows around the lump in his throat. 
“There he is.” You smile reassuringly at him. “Deep breaths for me, baby. You’re doing so good.” 
Bucky takes a small moment to do as you say, treating your word as gospel. His mouth works furiously over the words that won’t seem to come, until he settles on a breathless, “You’re so beautiful.” 
The way he’s devouring you with his eyes says volumes of his true meaning, and you couldn’t find it in you to mind that he was speechless.
You gently tuck the hair that’s fallen into his eyes behind his ears. “Oh, baby,” you whisper back, holding his face in your hands while a torrent of emotions that vary from awe to trepidation threaten to sweep you away. “You’re something else. I’m so lucky.”
A small huff of laughter falls from his parted lips, and he begins to grin, a cheeky pull at the corner of his lips that spreads warmth from your core to the tips of your toes and fingers. “If only you knew how much the guys on the team make fun of me for saying the exact same thing.” 
The two of you share a small bout of laughter — a wholesome moment to cut the charged air and be yourselves for a second.
You slide your hands down from his face down to his chest, feeling the steady pitter patter of his heart that’s calmed down from the fast thrum — the soft smile you give him forces a heavy exhale of breath from his lungs, and you revel in the one you’re given in return. 
“Good to keep going?” You check in once more. 
Bucky nods his head, certain. “Please.”
“Sit on the bed for me then, Puppy,” you softly direct him. 
Following behind him, sure to stay close for both his benefit and yours, he climbs onto your mattress and sits against the headboard. He holds his hand out to you, routine embedded into him to guide you onto his lap. 
It registers to him then, as your bare skin melts against his, that you have never been in this position with so little layers between you. 
Carefully, you rest your crotch — covered by your thin layer of underwear — against his. A thrill of tension stiffens Bucky’s muscles, and you smile gently at him while you shuffle your knees comfortably on either side of his thighs — fully aware that the sensation is much more intense than usual. 
“Bee…” His warm, callused hands hover over waist as you readjust yourself, and while you set yourself down on his lap, the lace of your panties swipe over his hardening cock. “Oh— Fuck.” He chokes out.
Immediately, you still. “What’s wrong, baby?” 
“I wanna touch you,” Bucky forces out, breathing heavily. “So bad—” 
“Remember to breathe, Buck,” you remind him gently, not wanting him to overwhelm himself — not this early. “You’re okay, I’m here.” 
His chest shudders with a harsh breath, and he whimpers, “I don’t know what to do.” 
The lack of experience and inadequacies that stem from it run rampant through his saddening expression, from the sheen of tears that start on his lash line, to the deep frown on his pouting lips. They lock him in place and render him frozen under you — the tense line of his thigh muscles taut beneath yours. 
You realise with a shock that while he is so eager to please, a mingling sense of shame screams that he won’t be able to make this good for you. 
“Hmm. Baby, listen,” you soothe, gathering his attention once more. His hands intertwine easily with your own and you kiss his knuckles. “How about we start off with something you do know?” 
Bucky looks at you with all the innocence of someone completely out of their depth. “O— Okay,” he stutters. “Yeah, I can do that.” 
You smile, placing a single, loving kiss to his lips. “I’ve got you, baby.” 
Sitting back upright, you slowly test a gentle roll of your hips over his crotch and instantly, Bucky gasps loudly. You grin salaciously as you witness his eyes flutter closed. But you still take care to stop, to wait a second and look for any signs he doesn’t like it — there are none, much to your satisfaction.
Slowly, you rock back and forth over his bulge, drinking in the slight, hitched moans and whines that fall from his lips. “You’re doing so well — Proud of you.” You bring the tips of his fingers to your lips and kiss them gently. “It’s only you and me, okay?” 
Bucky’s eyes flutter; heavy breaths escaping his mouth. “You and me,” he whispers.  
“That’s right. Just us.”
“You don’t have to worry your pretty little head, Puppy,” you tease gently. Bucky bites his lip. “I need you to just relax — Sit back and let me do the thinking.” 
“Buttercup–” 
“Here.” You guide Bucky’s hands to your sides, smoothing them down the slopes of your hips, and you repeat the motion a few more times to better allow him to feel accustomed to the feel of your naked skin. “There you go.”
His hands, rough and calloused from his football training, stain your body for an eternity — caressing you with a ceaseless love and compassion. 
“Touch me,” you say, unable to simmer the blooming heat within you. 
Transfixed, Bucky’s thumbs brush back and forth. There’s still a sense of hesitation in his movements — the way his fingers twitch and tickle over your skin. But it lasts only a moment; a path of his own choice decorates your sides, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Your skin is so soft,” he sighs in awe. 
He rests his head back against the headboard with a soft sigh, and he tilts his chin down to watch you grind against his bulge. Leisurely, he tenderly brushes his fingers over your stomach, the touch of his hands beginning to drift upwards under the slope of your tits. 
“Please, Bucky,” you plead with him, the tease of having him so close is too much to bear. “Touch me.” 
“‘Kay,” he mumbles drunkenly. 
The pad of his thumb swipes over the peak of your nipple softly, a barely there sensation that makes you keen. “Yes, just like that, Pup.” 
It’s all the reaction he needs. 
With a surge of confidence, Bucky begins to massage your tits, continuing to use his thumbs to rub circles over your sensitive nipples while you grind against his growing cock. “I— Is this okay, Buttercup?” 
You almost scoff — the thought that his experimental touches are anything less than okay absurd to you. 
“Yeah, yeah,” you whine, and the reassurance of your pleasure invigorates him to move faster, steadier and more firm with his touch. “Making me feel so good, baby, keep going.” 
Lost in the feel of his touch and the insistent pressure of his clothed cock against your folds, you tilt your head back and close your eyes. The flutter of butterflies in your stomach crescendo into a frenzy the faster you move. All the while, you miss the way Bucky’s gaze is intently focusing on the way your breasts sway with the grind of your hips; how he licks his bottom lip with an urge to claim.
The sharp, intense sensation of his fingers pinching a peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger forces a shout from your parted lips. “Fu–uck, Bucky — Ohmygod.”  Your cunt pulses and aches when his fingers stay hovering, spooked at the sudden reaction. “More, more—”
“Fuck,” Bucky groans, and he bucks up into you, matching your rhythm and this time, it’s you who’s soaking the material of your panties. “Bubs, I— Holy shit — I need more.”  
It’s an achievement you’re most excited for, that he’s freely telling you, unprompted, what he needs. 
Though, the teasing nature you held could not be dissuaded — you meet his gaze with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, Puppy?” Your hands hover over his lower stomach, the tips of your fingers dancing over the twitching muscles, and you move your index finger beneath the fabric. “Wanna get rid of these?” 
The elastic waistband of his underwear snaps back against his lower stomach, making him yelp in surprise. “Ah— Mhm,” he begs deliciously, eyes wide and completely surrendering to you. “Take ‘em off, Bee, please.”
Your bare skin brushes against his while you shuffle backwards, slowly crawling down his legs all while marking his skin with kisses and teasing nibbles, until you reach his briefs.
 
Looking up at Bucky under your eyelashes, you blink sweetly, eyeing the sweat that begins to build on the ridges of his abs. Your breath ghosts over the material of his underwear while you ask, “Can I have your cock?” 
“Oh, god,” he chokes out while his dick twitches in uncontainable excitement.
“I need your consent, Bucky.” The statement brings him back to the present, grounding him to the sight of you between his thighs and softly reminding him that everything is on his terms.
 
“Yeah,” he gasps. A few deep breaths cause his chest to rise and fall, steadying the rabbiting pulse in his neck. “Yes.” 
With his confirmation, you slowly, gently ease your fingers underneath the fabric that hid what you truly wanted — the waistband slides easily down his tense thighs. Your eyes are focusing on the new inches of skin revealed, the sculpted line of his Adonis belt that runs down to the one part of his body you’re desperate to see. 
Bucky watches you with bated breath — you’re so close to his cock, and it’s still not enough for him.
The small whine of frustration makes you flit your gaze upwards. A sheen of moisture shines over his eyes, and the pout of his lips are shining slick with spit — he looks absolutely wrecked, and you hadn’t even taken his hard cock from the confines of his briefs. 
Deciding to put him out of his misery, you finally pull his briefs down until his twitching length bursts free of the material, standing tall and thick, curved and almost purple from the strain of arousal. Your eyes follow the veins trailing up his length, and you lick your lips once you spot a pearl of precum already forming from the tip of his dick — a sweet temptation that’s teasingly begging you to have a taste. 
You’re speechless, literally awe stricken while you salivate over the length and girth of his cock. “Oh.” The slow blinks of your eyelids leave them hooded, but you continue to stare, hypnotised at the sight of your boyfriend’s huge cock. 
“B— Buttercup?” he whispers, voice tense with worry after the few seconds of silence that stretch while you stare, transfixed. “Is— Is everything okay?” 
You swallow, trying to rid the sudden dryness in your mouth. “Bucky,” you say roughly, and you look up into his doe eyes. “If I weren’t a more patient woman, I’d have your cock in my mouth and down my throat already.”
He sputters, the blotchy redness beginning to creep up from his chest to his neck. 
“You’re so fucking big, baby. Holy fuck— how do you have such a pretty cock?” you wonder aloud. 
“Shit, you can’t say that,” Bucky groans, squeezing his eyes shut as his dick twitches. The far more rapid rise and fall of his chest makes his stomach muscles contract and flutter — the sight lends ideas for the future idea of working him over into the line that blurs pleasure and pain, all to see how he takes it.
 
But you lick your lips, promising yourself to revisit that thought later. Tonight was about him. 
“Fine. I’ll behave,” you tell him, waiting until his eyes open and focus on you before you grin wolfishly. “For now.”
Bucky’s lips part to speak, but before he can work the words past his tongue, you sit up and grab his hands, directing them to your hips and over the fabric of your panties. The hold you have over the back of his hands leaves him unable to pull away — not that he desires to. 
The fabric glides over your hips with your guidance, revealing the bare skin. “Oh— Fuck,” Bucky murmurs, watching the journey the fabric takes until it lands on the floor next to your bed. 
“Buttercup,” he gasps in wonderment. “You— You’re perfect.”
It’s difficult to remain confident while your boyfriend looks at you as though you put the stars in the sky just for him — like he’s seeing an angel. “You’re a true gentleman, aren’t you?” you laugh, trying to hide the way his stare makes you flustered. 
“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head, his eyes soaking you in with such a reverence that’s dizzying. “You— Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m taking about because — Fuck. Believe me, you’re fuckin’ unreal.” 
The world seems like it stops on its axis right then and there. You know Bucky’s emotions are heightened and at an all-time high, but you also know that he means every word of what he says — his sobering eyes tell you the truth alone. 
You’re the one who becomes a stuttering mess for a moment, and you stumble over your words before you manage to regain your composure, and you clear your throat. “T— Thank you, baby.” The pause in heated touches gives you an opportunity to check in. “How are you feeling?”
Still trying to gain some semblance of control, he audibly gulps. “I— I’m good, yeah.” 
“Yeah?” You begin to steadily shuffle forwards on your knees, further up his legs to hover over his crotch, careful to not let your body graze him just yet. “You know you can back out whenever you’d like, okay? You say the word and we stop.” 
The small distance between your most intimate parts is dangerously in the balance. 
“No,” Bucky says finally, shaking his head as his hair sweeps over his face. A few strands settle over his cheeks. “Wanna keep goin’.” 
You bite your lip and smile wickedly. “You got it, baby.” 
His bottom lip is trapped between his teeth as he watches you begin to lower your body. “We’re just going to keep doing what we’ve been doing, okay, baby?” You reassure as his breathing picks up. 
But his eyes stay focused and fixated on you.
When your cunt lowers against the base of his cock, the movement pushes his length down until the tip almost reaches his belly button, and even with the visual of you resting over his length as you always did in the past, Bucky isn’t prepared for the feel of his bare dick sitting snug between your folds. His eyes shoot open while he gasps loudly and balls up the bedsheets tightly in his fists. “Shit, shit — Fuck, oh my— God—” 
The palms of your hands smooth over his tense stomach.  “Easy there, big guy,” you coo softly. “It’s okay.” 
His breathing becomes erratic as his back arches against the headboard. “Oh god, you’re— You’re fuckin’ soaked, Bee.”  
You are. Nobody else ever had this kind of effect on you, and so you certainly aren’t ashamed for Bucky to know how much he turns you on. “That’s what you’re doing to me, baby — Can’t help it,” you keen. 
His chest rumbles while he groans deeply, throwing his head back. 
The urge to move is compelling, almost swallowing you whole — Bucky isn’t the only one struggling to keep calm, with his thick length brushing your entrance and putting constant pressure on your clit, it’s a challenge to not take him then and there. 
“Do you remember when we first kissed?” you ask breathlessly before you begin to squirm. “And I asked you to think about how wet and tight I’d be for you?” 
Bucky’s muscles strain as he frustratedly tangles his fingers in his hair. “Fuck, I haven’t stopped thinking about it since, baby.” 
Your hips work a little quicker over his cock, the slide seamless from how aroused you are, and to your surprise, you feel his hips work against you, too. “How does it feel to know your inches away from slipping inside my pussy?”  
The rocking movements of his hips falter as he jerks up and jostles you, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter in a crazed frenzy. “It feels— Please— You’re killin’ me—” 
“My sweet boy,” you utter. “Don’t worry, you’ll have it soon.” 
Each and every plea and whimper that falls from his red-bitten lips only serves to turn you on even more. He tries to flex his hips to push his cock into you, to feel the warmth of your cunt around him, but even he isn’t ready for the sensation that ripples down his spine once the tip catches on your hole. 
“Fuck!” he curses. 
Hurriedly, you move yourself away before he can slip in any further. “Nuh-uh, sweetheart, I need you to be calm for me, alright? You can have me when you're calm, not just yet. Breathe for me.”
“No — I, no no, Bee, please, don’t do this to me. I want—” Bucky vehemently shakes his head from side to side, the vein in his neck almost popping from his exertion to hold back. His hands grip your waist, digging into your skin as he drags you back down onto his cock desperately. “Please, I wanna feel—”
“Oh, Pup,” you sigh with an all too innocent smile. “You wanna be a good boy for me, huh?”
“I can, I can,” he whines. The feel of his hands pawing at your waist sends a thrill up your spine. “Fuck, I can!” 
“Yeah,” you mumble, unsure if you can hold out much longer yourself. “You can, Pup — I know you can.”
“Bee—” Bucky is a pure wreck, his chest heaving with breath, and a film of perspiration builds on his temples. You know it’s impossible for him to garner any more control, and you grant him mercy as you slightly lift your hips up to line the hole of your pussy up with his cock. 
“Bucky, baby,” you call to him, waiting patiently until his wild eyes lock onto you, and you forewarn him, “You're sure about this?”
His bright blues cloud over with a haze of lust, and you shiver when he cries, “Please.” 
“Okay, okay,” you soothe. “Alright, baby — Wait, hang on, sweetheart.” The bed creaks as you shuffle backwards once more. “Let’s get you off the headboard, so you’re comfier.”
The two of you move in tandem so his head rests back against the pillows, and you settle back over his hips, reaching out to smooth your thumb over his cheek. “Better?”
Bucky smiles and nods once, turning his head to kiss your palm.
“Okay.” You brace yourself with a steady breath, and finally sink down onto Bucky’s cock, the tip easing into your cunt with a pop. The stretch from his head alone has you squeezing your eyes shut, but you revel in the way he freezes under you, then the sluttiest whine you’ve ever heard falls from his slack mouth. 
The effort to work past the thickness of his head causes your hands to rest on his stomach, allowing him to hold your weight, and your mouth falls open with a silent scream as you drop down further, taking more of his length. 
Glancing down at your boyfriend to check on him, you find only the whites of his eyes through his hooded lids, and his fists balling so tightly in the sheets of your bed that they begin to tear. 
With a whimper, your walls clench around his cock. “A— Almost in, baby.” Another inch fills your cunt. “Doing— Doing so well, Bucky,” you pant. 
Your nails create indents into his skin while you internally build up the courage to take the entirety of his length. It feels an impossible task, one you desperately underestimated, but you were no quitter. Your walls rhythmically squeeze around him, and your breath hitches when you feel him twitch against the stimulation. 
“God, I want you,” you moan, hanging your head. An unintelligible mumbled string of words or sounds fall from his lips in reply. “Fuck it.” 
With a deep breath and a prayer for mercy, or strength, you arch your back — the wrecked moan that Bucky rasps sends a thrill of hunger up your spine. The slide of his cock against your walls makes you cry out, and you quickly drop your hips until you're fully seated against his crotch. 
“Oh shit!” Instantly, Bucky shoots up from the mattress and wraps his arms firmly around your middle, crushing you against his heaving chest. “Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move — Please — Don’t fuckin’ move.” 
You sling your arms around his shoulders in reply, and the two of you cling to one another with only your heavy breaths disturbing the quiet music in the background. The bare skin of your bodies sticks to each other, glistening in the candlelit room while the silent moments pass. 
Hot, heavy breaths fan over the skin of your neck while Bucky nuzzles his face against the juncture of your shoulder — the movement effectively burying him entirely into your form. There is no way for him to get any closer, or any way to hide his muffled sniffles and gasps for air. 
The beat of your heart steadies and thumps evenly — you pray that it is enough to calm his overwhelmed senses. “Steady, Pup — You’re alright, I’ve got you.” Gently, slowly, you comb your fingers through the damp strands of hair by his temples. “Just stop and let it happen, feel it, don’t fight it. It’s okay, baby.”
“S’too much, too much, Bee— Please, please, I don’t—” He stumbles over his words, working himself up.
“Bucky,” you say, firm but gentle, trying to reason over his rambling. “Do you need to stop?” 
“No!” He holds you even tighter. “Please no, no no, don’t go, don’t move, don’t take— Please stay.”
“Hey, hey— I’m here, I’m here. I’m staying — Breathe, baby.” You rub your free hand over his back, shushing his pleas and continuing scratching your fingers over his scalp. 
As you pacify Bucky, he begins to calm down — his breathing softens, the heightened intensity of emotions flowing easily into a quiet, content peace between you. Cautiously, you slightly lean yourself back and ask, “Can you look at me, please, sweetheart?” 
It's a gradual process as he plucks the courage to lift his head out of your neck and surrender to your request, and your heart tightens when his teary eyes bore straight into your soul. “Oh, baby,” you sigh, bringing your hands round to hold his cheeks. “Was that a lot?” 
Bucky timidly nods, his arms still caging themselves around your waist to keep you close. 
“It’s okay — You’re okay, sweet boy — Doing so good.” The deep-rooted need to reassure him takes hold, an instinct that’s embedded within you to make him feel as safe as you possibly can. “Take your time.” 
“Mm.” Bucky rests his forehead against your chest and listens to the steady beat of your heart, tethering himself back down to earth. 
The charged air that holds the weight of tension finally breaks when he blows a long breath onto your skin. “This is— This is so much better than I imagined. Fuck, this is— Bee, I think I’m seeing stars.”
“Oh my god, you fucking dork.” Your laughter fills the room, full of pure happiness and glee to be able to find such fun in sex. 
He smirks lopsidedly at you until you sigh, the amusement turning to fondness, and you kiss his forehead — almost able to forget the position you’re in. 
But you’re soon reminded as Bucky quietly rasps, “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight — Can barely breathe.” Goosebumps run down the naked skin of your arms at the same time your cunt pulses. He grunts deeply with a sharp hiss. “You really were right.” 
“I did warn you,” you tease, giggling when he lifts his head up and playfully glares at you. Closing the distance, you kiss him deeply, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth as you whisper against his lips, “Ready for me to move now, baby?” 
“Fuck yes,” he groans.  
You don’t waste any more time. Tangling your fingers around the locks at the back of Bucky’s head, you pull and begin to smother his neck with wet kisses, the taste of salt delicious on your tongue. 
Raising your hips, his cock slides out of your pussy, leaving behind a hollowness you crave to fill immediately. Without forewarning, you swiftly lower yourself, sobbing with pleasure at how perfectly he fits inside you. “Bucky.” 
“I know,” he moans, long and low, sounding as wrecked as you feel. “Fuck, Bee — I feel it too.”  
Words fail you, the delightful feeling you’ve waited so patiently for holding you hostage as you pant into his shoulder. 
It becomes easier with each stroke to fuck yourself onto his cock, making sure to grind yourself deeper into his lap each time you come down. 
“I— I can’t fuckin’ think straight.” Bucky’s palms slide over your ass and grip it firmly. 
You laugh deliriously, high on the adrenaline coursing through your veins, and you barely notice the way you instinctively change the motion of your hips, beginning to grind into his lap in circular motions. 
A strangled sounding moan causes your focus to snap towards Bucky.  “Oh— Jesus fuck!” His fingernails dig into your ass as he hysterically pleads, “Like that, baby — Exactly like fuckin’ that.” 
Huffing with a smirk, you breathe, “You like that, huh?” 
“Yes,” he admits shamelessly. You start to speed your motion up, and the filter between his mind and lips completely crumbles. “Your— Your p—pussy feels good — So good. You have no idea — Shit — Keep goin’, please—” 
The words tumbling from his lips are cut off when you push against his shoulders, sending him off balance to lay back down on the bed with a thump. Then, resting your palms on his chest, you lean forward to kiss him. You whisper against his lips, a sly smirk creeping onto your mouth, “Hold on tight, baby.” 
Using Bucky as leverage to hold your weight, you begin to bounce on his cock. The position allows his length to sink all the way into you, his tip hitting your cervix at the right angle to make you whimper. 
“Oh, it’s so— Fuck, I’m so deep— In you.” He struggles to breathe, the wind totally knocked out of him, but he’s mesmerised and completely drowning in the sensation. 
“I know, baby — Stretching me out so much.” A fire simmers in your eyes. The muscles of your thighs burn with exertion, but you refuse to stop — especially not when your boyfriend is a fucked-out mess beneath you, trying to control the subtle flexes of his hips. 
While you’re riding him, far too engrossed in making sure you keep the rhythm steady, you miss the feral glint in Bucky’s eyes. He’s possessed by the sight of your cunt sucking in his cock so deliciously; your slick dripping down onto him and coating his dick. 
Licking his lips, his eyes lock onto your puffy clit, enlarged and throbbing in pleasure, and he inches his hand forward to experimentally swipe his thumb over your nub. His gaze snaps up to you with the unleashed moan you scream to the roof. “Fuck, Bucky!”
You're quickly pulled back forward as Bucky grabs you behind the neck, bringing you down to kiss him. His tongue slithers into your mouth, his muffled groans rumbling against your lips while he continues to buck up into you. 
The need to catch your breath has you pulling away, gasping for air.  
Bucky looks drunk — eyes hooded with a hunger blurring the blue of his irises and the black of his pupils. His pink swollen lips hang open, wet from clumsy kisses with too much tongue for his hazy mind to process.  
You hang your head low between your shoulders and cry, “Why are you so damn big, baby?” 
His hands slink down to your hips, and he gropes at the quivering muscles desperately. “Buttercup,” he tries to warn you — the cries over the size of his dick are sending him into a deeper pit of hunger. 
Your head’s already too hazy to process anything other than the feel of his cock. “I’m aching, how the fuck am I taking you right now?” 
The thrusts of Bucky’s hips speed up, and he bends his knees to plant his feet on the bed, his sole mission to fuck up into your cunt.
“Feel so fucking full, Bucky — Filling my pussy up so good.” The breathy moans fall like chants from your lips. 
The steady, punishing rhythm you maintain falters, and your breath hitches when his cock slips from your cunt — the obscene, slick sound of it slapping against his stomach filling the room. 
You pant and press your hands down on his chest while he groans to the ceiling. “Shit, I—” Bucky’s eyes glaze over when he looks down at his body, the twitch of his cock in time with the hammering of his heart under your palm. “I didn’t mean to—” 
You can’t help but giggle, and the sound immediately calms his worries — the cinch between his brows smoothing over as he looks up at you. “Don’t worry, baby.” 
The movement of your hand towards his cock has his entire focus — his tongue moves over his lips, and you watch the shine of spit; how it makes his lips an even deeper red. “Oh, fuckin’— Fuck.”
His exclamation makes you freeze. “What’s wr—” 
It clicks. 
Though you took him in your heat, felt the pleasure he can give you, the realisation hits you like a freight train that not once this night had you felt the weight of his fully erect cock in your palm; to wrap your fingers around the length and work him over.
“I can’t—”
“Shh, you’re alright,” you soothe, and carefully, you wrap your hand around his girth. Your eyes widen when you can only just connect your thumb and fingers together. “Fuck me—” you gasp, beginning to lift yourself up to line him up to slide back in. “God — You can barely fit in my hand, baby. Here we go.” 
It’s unclear to you what exactly causes Bucky to snap. 
The room whirls in your vision and you gasp with surprise as his body suddenly shoots up and with ease from the mattress, flipping you over in one smooth, fluid motion. “Oh, fuck!”
One second your back is resting against the mattress, over the rumpled covers, and the next, your boyfriend's hands are pushing your thighs as far up your chest as they can go. 
“I’m so sorry, Bee,” Bucky groans, kneeling between your spread legs — one hand holds your legs in place, the other brushes featherlight over your soaked lips. The sharp gasps for air make his voice sound hoarse and raspy.  
He stares down at your pussy, licking his lips. “I can’t—” The fingers that danced over your lips move to grab his cock, encircling it in his large palm before he rests the head of it against the fluttering entrance of your cunt. “I can’t hold back anymore, need this.” 
He doesn’t give you a chance to reply — the tip of his thumb brushes against your clit and you keen upwards, just as his cockhead slips into you. The slide of him easing into you is smooth, and the drag of his length stretches you inch by pleasurable inch. 
“Oh my fucking god, baby!” Bucky bites the inside of your calf while you whine loudly, your walls clenching down onto him — a tear rolls down your cheek, the size of him is almost too much. “Yes!”
“Fuck, s’deep. I gotta move, Bubs — Please, lemme move.” His weight shifts to cover you, pinning you against the bed while he leans close to pepper needy kisses and bites over the column of your neck. 
“Do whatever the fuck you want, Bucky, please,” you beg, “I want it all.” 
Raising your arms up to hold the headboard, you steady yourself for what is to come, and offer yourself to him on a platter, free for his taking. 
Immediately, his eyes dart towards the movement of your tits, the natural bounce of them with every aborted thrust he makes. “Hnng— Yes,” he rasps. The slow thrusts turn rough, his skin slapping against the back of your sweat-slick thighs. 
Your nipples, hard and pebbled, become his new target. “I want every fuckin’ inch of you, Bee,” he growls, swooping down and sucking your nipple into his mouth. 
The room spins from the dizzying pleasure; the veins on his cock scrape your walls, his wet tongue playing with you, the hairs above his cock teasing your clit. It all begins to wind the knot tighter and tighter in your stomach. 
“I need more,” you gasp while Bucky drags your nipple with his teeth and releases it with a wet pop. Your arms slither around his neck and bring him into your hold. “Fuck, Bucky, please.” 
Corded muscles move you up the bed, and he forces his forearms under your back to hold you close. “Whatever you want, baby.” The fast thrusts slow to a deep, dirty grind — the length of him going deeper and deeper on each circle of his hips. “Gonna— Fuck, gonna give you anythin’ you want.” 
The two of you crash your lips together and whimper into the other's mouth — heavy breaths and pants mingle while your combined sweat builds between your heated bodies. 
“Wanna cum, Buck,” you plead desperately. “Want you to make me cum; feel s’good in me.” 
A huff of breath fans over your lips, and a sly, lopsided grin pulls at the corner of Bucky’s mouth. The covers rustle and from the corner of your eyes, you see him planting a hand beside your head, next to your ear. “Don’t you worry,” he coos shakily through his grunts and moans. “I’ve got ya, Bee.” 
His free hand drifts between your breasts and over your stomach, down to where you are connected. You gasp as the pad of his thumb settles over your clit, and he rubs in tight, fast circles, keeping pace with the thrusts of his hips into your pussy. 
Your thighs begin to shake as you cry into his neck, “Please, keep going — Don’t stop!”  
“Come on, baby,” Bucky coaxes gently. “You can do it. You can cum for me — C’mon.”
The tension in your stomach becomes unbearable — you slap the covers of the bed and ball them into your fist for something to ground you against the onslaught. “I— Ha, fuck!” You heave for breath, panting. “I’m gonna cum!”
“Let go — Can feel you, how tight you fuckin’ are. I’ll catch you, Bee.” 
Your ears ring as your eyes roll to the back of your head, the pleasure insurmountable in its height, when it finally hits you. You convulse through the waves of it, letting it consume you whole while ragged pants for air and hoarse moans fall from your parted lips. “Baby, baby — I’m cumming!”
He still continues to fuck you through your orgasm until the last tendrils of electricity run their course, leaving you a twitching mess. 
An overwhelming urge to be close to Bucky forces your hands to blindly reach out to grasp a part of him. The tips of your fingers graze the warm skin of his bicep, and he suddenly pulls away entirely — your cunt gaping and weeping at the loss of him.  
“Pup?” You whimper. “Come back, what are you doing?” 
“I’m h— Here, Buttercup,” he manages. Unknown to you, the feel of your walls fluttering against his dick almost had him finishing inside of you. His length glistens with your cum, and Bucky has to close his eyes tight and breathe to control himself.  
Stubborn as you are, you intertwine your hands with his and pull him into you, smirking lazily at his shocked gasp when his cock grazes over your cunt. 
Strands of his slick hair tickle your cheeks, and his cheeks are a deep hue of red. “Why did you stop, sweetheart?” you ask. The pupils of his eyes blow impossibly further. “You made me cum so fucking hard.” 
You’re delighted to hear the whine he tries so hard to hide. “I— I panicked,” he admits. “You almost made me cum.” 
Looking down, you see his cock twitching viscously, like he’s about to blow any second. “Aw, baby.” 
You grab his length and start stroking him in your fist — the twist and pump of your fist making him choke and sputter. “Buttercup— What are you— What are you doin’?
“Go on,” you urge him, squeezing his thick cock at the base, and twisting on the pull upwards. “Cum on me.”
“I—” Bucky shakes his head rapidly. “No— I can’t do that — Fuck this feels too good — Can’t finish on you—” 
“Bucky,” you gently interrupt him. “I’m telling you that you can.”
But he shakes his head again, trying to hold out. “Fuck, fuck — Oh, fuck — Baby I can’t please, I—”
You click your tongue and tighten your hand around his cock, pumping him harder faster, a spark in your veins and mischief on your mind. “Why not, hm? I need it — Don’t you want to give me what I need?” 
“Bee—” he pleads. “Don’t do this to me.” 
Though his words say one thing, the way Bucky thrusts into your fist tells you another — he’s dying to cum, the throb of his cock in time with his rabbiting pulse. 
You refuse to have him holding back because the voice in his head is sabotaging his pleasure.
 
“Please, baby,” you beg of him, blinking your eyes and reeling him in on your invisible line. “I want it. Give it to me.”
Bucky bows his head, the curtain of his hair concealing his blown-out eyes. There’s a heavy sigh of defeat from his lips. “Fuck, Bee— What the hell are you doin’ to me?”
Biting your lip, you move the fingers of your free hand up the back of his sweaty neck to thread them through the hair at the base of his neck, and you pull him down to rest his forehead against yours. A wicked grin dances on your lips. “I’m gonna make you cum for me.” 
As soon as the words leave your mouth, you speed up the pace, taking care to focus the pressure of your grip around the head of his cock. 
“Oh—” Bucky chokes on his own spit, his toes curling while his hips work in tandem with the pumps from your fist.
“That’s it, Pup,” you murmur delicately, scraping your fingers over his scalp. “There’s a good boy.”  
“Feels like fuckin’ heaven,” he slurs, whining as he seeks out your lips. “S’close, baby.” 
You direct him, pulling him impossibly closer to slot your lips over his; tongue and teeth caressing with little finesse. “Give me it, Bucky — Please.” The words fall against his parted mouth.
“Gonna—“ The excitement for his climax builds when you feel his cock swell in your hand, the violent twitches of his mounting release. “Gonna cum, B— Buttercup.” 
Lighting a fire to the match begging to burn, you tug his hair back in your fist, the grip tight and unyielding to bare his neck in an arch. The skin of his throat is damp with sweat, and the thunder of his pulse can be seen next to the frantic bob of his Adam’s apple. “Let go — Let go for me.” You lap at the sensitive skin with your tongue. “Make a mess of me with your big cock.” 
The long wait, the weeks leading up to this very moment are entirely worth it when Bucky collapses onto you, his moans unending and agonisingly pleasureful. His hips stutter and thrust with no real rhythm while his cum shoots from the swollen head of his cock, painting your bare skin all the way up to your tits. 
His release seems to never end, it pools over your stomach with no signs of slowing down. 
Bucky trembles with the waves of pleasure, and he buries his face into your neck, nuzzling you to try and retreat from the nonstop sensation of release. Against the sheets, you can feel the way they rustle as his toes curl — the taut line of his shoulders makes him feel bigger while he shivers and jerks over you.  
“Buttercup.” His palms frantically feel over your skin. “It won’t— Fuck — It’s not s—stopping.” 
“Shhh,” you instantly soothe him, running your fingers through his hair and holding him close to you while you continue to pump your fist gently, milking him for all he’s got. “Almost there, Puppy — let it all go.” 
Bucky sobs into your neck as the last few drops leak from his tip, and the pretty sounds of his moans vibrate against your chest. “Oh my god.” 
“So fuckin’ good for me — Did so well, my sweet boy.”
Finally, his cock stops pulsating and begins to slowly soften in your hand. As carefully as possible, you remove your hand and smooth it over the heated skin of his waist. “Take it easy for me, baby,” you whisper, pressing a gentle kiss against his tear-stained cheek. “Remember to breathe.” 
Bucky’s limbs loosen with the lull of your voice, and he eases his body down onto yours, letting you take his weight. 
The two of you lay peacefully connected together, only your shared breathing to fill the quiet of your room. The needle on your vinyl long since raised, the song finishing with a gentle lull while you were wholly focused on him — much like the simmering high that had been building since your first kiss. 
You are loath to interrupt the peace, but his heavy breathing told you that you will lose him to sleep any second now. “Bucky baby?” 
When the rumble of his muffled, “Mhm,” tells you he’s returned back to you, you smile contentedly. “Do you think you’re able to let me clean you up now, hm?” 
It's difficult to not laugh at the way he clings to you, tightening his hold and groaning, “No leavin’ me.” You smother the growing smirk creeping up your face. 
The palms of your hands rub up and down his back, and you kiss the top of his head. “I’ll be quick, sweetheart. I promise.” 
He sighs, much like a tired puppy, and begrudgingly slackens his arms and carefully lifts up off of you, rolling onto the bed next to you. “Hurry back, please.” The slight whine to his voice melts your heart. 
“Thank you, baby.” You quickly shuffle off the bed, placing your feet on the floor. “I’ll be right back.” The floor creaks under your feet, and you rise from the edge of the bed, only, you overcompensate your judgement to hold your own weight so soon — the tremble of your thighs and weakness of your knees almost has you toppling to the floor. “Oh, boy.”
A snort of laughter sounds from behind you, and you look over your shoulder to find a dazed, smirking Bucky. “I did that to you,” he gloats drunkenly. 
Your eyes widen in shock before you giggle along with him. “The cheek of you.” 
Taking slow steps, you manage to make your way into your bathroom to retrieve a washcloth. You take the time to clean yourself up while sitting on the edge of the bathtub, smiling like an idiot to yourself and rebuffing the urge to squeal. 
Upon walking out of the bathroom, your keen eyes catch the subtle peek Bucky makes through the mess of his hair, the wandering of his gaze over your still naked body. 
The blush that covers his cheeks and neck when he sees that you have caught him staring is endearing, when only moments ago he was inside of you, desperate and moaning for more.
  
To humour his shyness, you choose to pretend you didn’t see, and you make your way back to him. It is a true struggle to not give in to the twitching strain of the muscles in your thighs, or how your knees almost buckle from under you.
 
“Here we go, baby,” you sigh happily, both from seeing his soft smile and how you made it to the plush mattress without falling over. 
The warm cloth in your hand goes ignored by Bucky in favour of wrapping his arms around your middle, and he pulls you backwards into the covers until you are propped up on one side of your bed.
You hum warmly while wiping the mess of Bucky’s lower stomach, though you pause when you hover, uncertain, over his softened cock. “Am I okay to clean you up, baby?” 
Looking up at you with his puppy eyes, he nods sleepily. “You’re okay, Bee.” 
Taking care to be gentle, you wipe his most sensitive area and once satisfied, you toss the cloth towards the hamper of your room in favour of sideling up to Bucky. In the process, you turn onto your side and frame his face with your hands, waiting for his eyes to focus on you before asking, “How are we doing, handsome?”
The sound of his small laugh couldn’t make you happier, and his pearly whites gleam with his bright smile. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Buttercup.”
You giggle, a little high from the comedown too. “I take it that’s a good thing?” 
He groans deeply and licks his lips. “Absolutely.” 
You shiver and swat his chest. “Don’t be looking at me like that, you menace.” 
Bucky hums sweetly. “It was amazing— No, wait. It was better than that.” His eyebrows furrow in thought. “It was — Um— Can’t think of the word — Oh, I’ve got it! Astronomical.” 
Exhaustion is beginning to kick in for him, the very last dregs of his energy is being used to be a comedic clown — you fall for him even more. 
A sudden, hesitant doubt creeps into his eyes, the need for reassurance coming forth. “Was it—” He pauses, his eyes searching yours. “Was it okay for you?” 
“Oh, sweetheart,” you coo. The sheets underneath your body rustle as you lay down more comfortably, and you guide his head to lay on your chest, over your heart. “It was perfect — you were perfect.” Kissing the top of his head, you drive his worries away. “Trust me when I say it was fucking incredible.” 
The tenseness of his muscles begins to ease away. “Thank you…” Bucky hesitates, then moves even closer to you — once he is close enough for his liking, he angles his head up to blink at you dazedly. The emotion in his voice makes it waver when he says, “Thank you for taking care a’me.”  
“Always, my sweet boy.” You look down, watching his eyes droop. “It’s all I ever want to do.” 
“You’re so amazing, Buttercup,” he exhales blissfully. “So lucky to have you.” 
Your heart beats out of your chest. “I feel the exact same way.” Unsure you could handle any more of his sweetness, you mumble, “Now get some sleep, Puppy.” 
“Hmph — Fine.” He gives in, finally closing his eyes. “G’night, my Bee.” 
Resting your head on your pillow, you brush your finger over his forehead, sweeping his hair out of his eyes while you sigh contentedly. “Goodnight, baby boy.” 
Warmth floods your heart and a happiness like no other fills your bones, making you glow from the inside out. You’re not sure this night could be any better, and with that thought, you know you’ll rest easy tonight with the man of your dreams huddled in your arms. 
On the verge of surrendering to sleep, the quiet of the night is disrupted by Bucky's sleepy mumble, “I loves you.” 
Your eyes shoot back open, and you instantly look down, finding your boyfriend’s cheek squished against your breast with a little bit of drool gathering in the corner of his parted lips. 
“Bucky?” you whisper, the quick thump of your heart stealing your breath. There isn’t a response, not even a twitch of acknowledgement. With more urgency, you whisper, “Bucky?” 
This time you get a small, soft snore in reply. 
You lay your head back down onto your pillow to stare up at the ceiling. The thoughts and doubts swirl viciously, the intensity of each and every one making you gulp, though one stands out among the rest: did he just confess his love for me? 
There was the possibility of you hearing things — the comedown of the high you’ve been floating on messing with your head. 
It’s not long before all of the day’s events catch up with you. The slowing blinks of your eyelids lasting longer and longer each time; the laxness of your muscles as they settle in for a much-needed sleep. But the question on your mind bears a heavy weight while you succumb to sleep. 
Does Bucky love me? 
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The rays of the morning sun shining through the white drapes either side of your window are the first thing you become aware of as you wake up the next morning. With your eyes closed, you can see the yellow and amber glow of the sunrise. 
A strong envelopment of warmth and comfort keeps you rooted in place, as well as the heavy weight of an arm across your middle. You don’t want to move from your spot, you don’t want to wake up yet; still basking in the afterglow of yesterday’s events. 
But the second sensation, the mantra of light fingertips mapping over your face tips the balance of sleep overtaking you in favour of letting your consciousness creep to the surface.
 
Lastly, the final push, the soft, steady puffs of air tickling your nose persuades you to wave your white flag and flutter your eyes open. 
The blurriness of sleep forces you to blink until the fog clears your vision — once you’re able to see the dancing, warm light of the sun, you’re given the gift of your handsome boyfriend, already awake, admiring you with his bright blue ocean eyes. 
They’re the most clear they have ever been. 
The lined skin besides his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the pull of it making his nose scrunch adorably. “Bee,” he whispers, his voice rough from sleep. “Good mornin’.”  
It's a damn killer, the expression of his face — full of true elation and contentment, and it has you falling in love all over again. 
That’s when it hits you — the memory of last night, and what you think you heard him say when he was half asleep. 
Trepidation makes your nerves impossible to conceal, especially when Bucky is noticing every minute expression on your face. It's only a matter of time before the natural courage, granted to you with the haze of the morning, fades away. 
With a heavy gulp, you open your mouth and lick your lips. “Did, uh— Did you—?” The words die on your tongue.
Bucky’s thumb gently presses against your lips, his head gently shaking from side to side — a secret he wishes to keep just between the two of you, not shared with the birds that sing outside your window or the rays of the hopeful morning sun. 
Your eyes are wide, beginning to water with the anxiety coiling inside your chest. 
The crippling worry, however, dissolves when Bucky runs the pad of his thumb over your lips, the motion of back and forth touch grounding you. His eyes find their home deep into yours, and he finally speaks, “I love you.” 
And it’s with an ease, one that has you cursing your inner voice for ever doubting yourself, you say those three words that battled to be said so, so long ago. “I love you, too.”
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Honey Girl. The Masterlist.
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Series Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.
Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au
Warnings - smut. age gap (but all legal and consensual). cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.
Author's Note - another idea i've had for so long!! set in a beautiful coastal beach town - picture sunshine, sailing, beaches and your dad's hot best friend. what more could you want?
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Chapter One.
Chapter Two.
Chapter Three.
Chapter Four.
Chapter Five.
Chapter Six.
Chapter Seven.
The Playlist.
The Moodboard.
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