Tumpik
#bucky barnes x female reader
buckyalpine · 2 days
Note
Hey honey ! It’s 🐚 !! I have a request for you 🙈🥰 I love tough men that are assholes but turn soft for this one sweet girl ! And I was thinking Mafia Bucky and his rival’s daughter . He starts hooking up with her with every intention of her father finding out and being furious . But she’s none the wiser . She’s sweet and gentle with him even when he’s rough and rude . He always leaves the minute they’re done ,leaving her all alone and naked in her bed but she’s never bitter about it. After one particular night though , where they had sex in his place , she fell asleep , too worn out from Bucky being particularly rough . He took a moment to see her as something more than his nemesis daughter and he had to admit she was ethereal. Always sweet and kind . So much different than him and Bucky realized he might be falling for her . Especially with the way she was clinging to him in her sleep and how she never treated him like he was the bad guy . When he woke up she wasn’t there but everything changed after that night . The sex was gentler and so were his touches and kisses . He wasn’t just hooking up with her . He was making love to her without a word about this new change in their situationship . Until one night he had her in his arms , unafraid to cradle her cheek and kiss her forehead , telling her how he is in love with her and asking her to forgive him for the way he treated her
18+
Okay I’m dropping a bunch of WIPS for this. Bruh the request alone gave me butterflies I love this trope so much. Goddamnn. 
This starts with very fuck boy asshole type Bucky. I made him a dick in this, deal with it, don’t cry about it, he redeems himself. See how the request says men that are assholes. I live for it. Bucky. Is. An. Ass. Hole. And a sweet baby by the end. 
Also I don’t trust google translate but that’s what we have to work with, I am so sorry. 
“You’re making this harder than it has to be Stark” Bucky sipped his drink, leaning back in his chair while Tony’s jaw clenched, wishing he could just put a bullet in between his rivals eyebrows. Bucky swirled the whisky in his glass, the ice clinking against each other while Tony rejected his proposal again, tensions growing higher with each passing minute. 
“You’re not getting control over the South” He gritted through his teeth, ready to end the meeting one way or another until the door clicked open. You poked your head into his office, quickly padding over to his side, ignoring the broody men that surrounded the office. 
“Dad, I’m going out with Wanda, we’ll be back late, is that okay?” You never left the house without telling him where you were going first, it was a rule he made for you when you were younger but you stuck to it even years later. You knew he always worried about you. 
Tony frowned at your presence, not because he didn’t want you there but because he could see the other men stare at you, their eyes raking up and down your body like fresh meat. The dark material of your dress hugged your body perfectly and the thigh high slit wasn’t helping. 
“Be safe” He pecked your forehead before sending one of his men with you, “Barton, drive her there” He shot the men in his office a death glare; he was patient over many things but you were not something they could fuck with. Ever. Bucky cocked an eyebrow noticing Tony’s shift in demeanor, he was protective over his little princess. He smiled to himself with this new information, why fight for the south side when he could he could ruin something more precious. 
“This meeting is over” Tony stated, nodding to his men to escort Bucky and the others out. He narrowed his eyes at the way Bucky shrugged, casually downing his drink without making a counter argument, leaving a bit to easily for his liking. 
Bucky climbed into his SUV with Steve by his side, his mind going back to you. Tony’s sweet baby. His protected princess. Steve also frowned at the way his friend accepted defeat, but he didn’t ask questions, noticing the way Bucky bit his lip, the wheels in his head clearly turning. The fucker had something in mind.
“You’re thinking something, I can tell” Steve gave Bucky a pointed look while Bucky shrugged innocently, earning an eye roll from his best friend. 
“I need a drink” 
The Club
Bucky sat at the private booth of the club, his mind calculating how he could over throw Stark without having to get his hands too dirty. He already had one idea in mind but that was more to satisfy himself. It wouldn’t get him his territory but it would get him something...better...He sipped his drink, sitting up slightly, seeing a familiar figure across the club, his lips curling into a smirk. 
“Isn’t that her” Bucky’s eyes landed on you, watching your hips sway on the dance floor, laughing with your friends, completely in your own world. It couldn't have been more perfect, you were right there, practically served to him on a silver platter for him to take. 
“Who” Steve turned around to see who Bucky was looking at, his eyes growing wide when he realized who his friend was eyeing. “Starks daughter?”
Bucky nodded, setting his glass down, making his way over to you before Steve or Sam could say anything else. 
“Why is he not on a leash”
“I knew I should have gotten him neutered” 
The blonde shook his head, running a hand over his face while Sam snorted, both men watching him make his way over to you. You were now seated at the bar, sipping on some water to cool down while your friends stayed on the dancefloor. 
“Hey doll” Bucky sat on the stool beside you, both of you tucked away in the quieter corner of the bar area. He could tell by the way you smiled shyly, you’d be easy, a few flirty words and he’d get what he wanted. 
“Hi” You blushed at the handsome mob boss, his blue eyes sparkling as he smirked at you. He bought you a drink, luring you into him like a siren. You found yourself getting lost in his charm, listening to his velvety smooth voice. Truthfully it was nice to talk to someone for once. Most guys avoided you, knowing you were the daughter of Tony Stark. 
It was easy for him. His eyes flicked to the way you looked at his lips, inching closer towards him, your sweet innocent face gazing at him. He didn’t have to do much are you were already preening like a kitten. He had you exactly where he wanted. The air shifted when his hand grazed you thigh, the cold metal of his rings making you shiver. You didn’t pull back, letting his hand climb higher, leaning into his touch, your heart racing, craving more of him. 
“Tell me if you want me to stop” His voice was low, his lips brushing by your ear. Your breath hitched when his hand tilted your chin up to meet his eyes again, nearly whimpering when his hand squeezed the soft flesh of your thigh. 
“So needy” He smirked while you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, letting him take you by the hand to the private bathroom of the club. As soon as he locked the door, his previous charm dropped. His eyes darkened, his hands immediately all over you, pushing you against the marble counter of the sink. His lips smashed onto yours, tongue and teeth, not giving you a chance to breathe.
He sucked dark bruises on your neck, trailing the across your collar bone, pulling the front of your dress down to free your breasts. He lifted you onto the counter with ease, latching onto your nipple, tugging it between his teeth, smirking at the way you cried out. 
He parted your legs, ripping your panties off and stuffing them in his pocket. Your pussy dripped, clenching around nothing at the sound of his belt buckle and pants unzipping, moaning when he pulled your thighs to wrap around him, his cockhead prodding your entrance. He didn't bother prepping you, his mind focused on stuffing his cock into you and fucking you senseless. 
“Shh, better keep quiet unless you want others to hear how I’m about to fuck you” He growled against your skin, shoving his cock into you with one stroke. He gave you no time to adjust, snapping his hips against you, his hands gripping your ass while your hands flew to clutch around him, sinking your teeth into his shoulder to keep your screams down. He slammed against your g-spot, your arousal squirting out of you with each thrust, the coil in your belly building higher and higher as he fucked you harder. 
“I-I’m gonna-” You couldn’t formulate a sentence, clawing at his blazer, his cock filling and stretching you, ruining you for anyone else. “Please-
“Don’t-don’t talk, just take it” His voice was low, teeth gritted as he focused on ruining your pussy. You felt flustered, your body on fire each time he touched you. You felt yourself melt into him, letting him toy with your body. His fingers gripped onto your ass, slamming you into him to meet his strokes. He wanted to fill  you up till you were so full of cum, it’d drip and stain onto your bed sheets. All of his fucking cum painted on your pussy while you went to sleep, pretending to be an innocent little princess like you didn’t just take your dad’s rivals cock in the bathroom of the club. 
Your eyes rolled back feeling his cock stroke your g-spot, the roughness of his hands on your body making you climb higher, you clung onto him, your body pulled taut, a sob escaping your lips before muffling your cries by biting down onto his neck as you came. Bucky smirked to himself, pounding you harder, chasing his release. He didn’t even have to touch you and you were coming undone for him, wrapped tightly around his body, your pussy sucking him back in. 
He could feel pleasure crawl down his spine, his cock growing harder, something about getting to fuck his enemies daughter made him more feral than ever, his cock bursting with cum, endless thick streams shooting out of his sensitive tip.
“Fuck” he hissed, pumping his load into you, groaning as he pulled out, his cum dribbling out of you, spilling onto the sides of your thighs. You looked dazed, lipstick smeared, panting, your body limp against him. He tucked his cock back in, not looking back twice, leaving you a panting mess as he exited the bathroom. You stood on shaky legs, trying to steady yourself before grabbing a damp tissue to clean yourself up.
You splashed some water onto your face, your mind reeling over the way his touches made you feel, touching up your makeup before going back down to find your friends, his handsome face flashing in your mind throughout the night. 
***
“Can you explain what it is you’re doing here” Steve watched his friend carefully, his hair disheveled, shirt untucked, a lipstick stain on the collar of his shirt when he joined them again, a satisfied smirk on his face. 
“She’s probably a spoiled brat anyway” Bucky shrugged, unbothered about the type of person you were or how you felt about any of this. He wanted to see Tony’s face if he knew he had fucked his daughter, balls deep till she was walking around with sticky thighs, her soaked little cunt dripping all over her bed with his cum. He smirked to himself over the way you moaned for him, biting him to keep yourself quiet, the way your body responded to him, so needy and desperate. You were the opposite of your father; easy and none the wiser. If he couldn’t get what he wanted from Tony, he’d take the next best thing. It’s not like he wanted you. He just had to use you. 
The club wasn’t enough. Now he had you in his hands, he wasn’t going to let you go until he you were ruined. He used the meetings that took place in your house to his advantage, quietly sneaking off down the hall way to find you. Your heart jumped seeing him leaning against wall as you made your way to your room after eating breakfast. 
“Haven’t stopped thinking about me, have you” He smirked, cornering you against the wall, his chest pressed against yours. His hands came up to grasp your face, eyes locked with yours “You gonna let me cum in you?” 
You let out a shuddered breath, and that was all he needed, dragging you over to your room and tossing you onto your bed. 
“Take your clothes off” His cold blue eyes bore into you as you timidly unbuttoned your blouse, your hands shaking, already feeling exposed at the way he watched you. He wasn’t going to wait for you, striding over to the bed, his hands firmly gripping the material of your silky blouse, ripping it open, sending buttons flying onto the floor. His hands grabbed at the hem of your skirt, pulling it down before quickly tossed your bra and panties aside. 
Your face heated up at the way he slowly crawled on top of you, the scent of his cologne throwing you back to the way he fucked you at the club, pulling pleasure from your body so easily. 
“Please” Your soft eyes pleaded with his and his ego shot through the roof, getting to fuck you right on your bed. He nudged your thighs apart while marking you with his mouth. 
“Always ready for my cock” He hummed, smearing your slick around, shoving two thick fingers into you, curling and scissoring them till you were withering and nearly screaming, your arousal leaving your sheets wet. 
“James please” You looked at him with glassy eyes while he sat back, unbuttoning his pants, freeing his cock just enough so he could fuck you. He rubbed his cock onto your clit before shoving it into you, pounding you relentlessly as soon as he was fully sheathed inside you. 
Your body moved to wrap around him, your legs tight around his waist and arms clinging onto his shoulders. All you could do was moan and chant his name, his cock was practically in your throat, thrusting into you till your bed scrapped against the floor. His chest swelled with pride as soon as he felt your walls start to convulse and flutter, you were so responsive to him. 
“Cum, fucking cum on my cock” His hand snaked up to wrap around your throat, your pussy immediately clenching and throbbing around him, silent screams leaving through your slack jaw. His grunts grew louder, thrusting harder into you until he couldn’t hold back, determined to make a bigger mess than before. 
“Take it, fucking-take it, take my cum” He grunted, groaning as his hips stilled, staying as deep as he possibly could while he poured his load into you. His cum spilled out of you, soaking the sheets, your greedy sopping hole, still fluttering even after he pulled out. 
Perfect. 
You were still hazy, blinking when you felt his body weight off the bed, sitting up slightly to see him already making his way towards your door. 
“Oh-bye!”
Bucky clicked the door shut before you could even finish, leaving you bare and alone in your bed. You fell back against the sheets, your body worn and exhausted. You didn’t mind the soreness that you felt all over, sleep washing over you as you thought about his honeyed voice, those blue eyes, rough exterior. There was more to him even if he didn’t show it. 
It went on for weeks. You were his perfect little cum dump, taking load after load, whenever he wanted. Your room. The kitchen. On the floor. He almost found it pathetic, how easily you let him back into your warmth when he never looked back at your twice after. It didn’t matter though. He got what he wanted. 
Gala night 
You sighed, sitting by yourself while everyone else mingled with their respective groups, you’d never been a fan of parties but you didn’t have much of a choice. You had to make an appearance at the gathering hosted by one of your families allies though you didn’t understand why. No one had even noticed you. 
Well not exactly no one. 
Bucky’s eyes lingered on you as he watched you across the room from his table. You hadn’t spoken to a soul all night, nervously fidgeting with your fingers, sipping on you glass of wine, the red liquid staining your lips. You wore a dark green dress, your legs on display with the thigh high slit and the sweet heart neckline showing off your perfect cleavage. 
“Y/n” A son of your fathers friend wandered over, his hungry eyes flicking from your lips to your chest and up and down your legs. He noticed that you were alone, deciding to use the chance to get what he had been craving. He pulled up a seat beside you, sitting close enough so his legs brushed against yours. 
 “John” You smiled softly, internally wishing you had just stayed home. He had asked you out a number of times before and you always politely turned him down. Bucky narrowed his eyes at the blond who kept inching closer and closer to you, his hands trying to linger on your skin, lips whispering in your ear. 
“You look beautiful. Did anyone accompany you?” He knew the answer but that didn’t matter. You shook your head and he grinned “You know you could have asked me sweets, I would have been happy to” He moved his hands to rest on your knee, slowly moving up to your thigh. 
Your body jerked back, pulling away as if his touch burned your skin. His touch didn’t feel like Bucky’s. His eyes grew cold, it irritated him that you were so sweet and pathetically innocent yet unfazed by his attempts to seduce you; you’d never given into him.
“I-I appreciate that but I wanted to come alone” You didn’t want to upset him though you were very close to dumping a glass of wine on his head. Bucky’s jaw clenched at the way your body froze, discomfort evident on your face as he continued to try and paw at you. 
Bucky didn’t like you.
Or care for you.
But you were still his to ruin and he wasn’t going to let someone stop that. 
Is what he told himself as he shot out of his seat making his way to your table while Steve and Sam gave each other amused glances. Your eyes lit up as you saw Bucky taking long strides towards you, pulling you out of your seat and wrapping his arm around your waist without looking at you once. His eyes were trained on the blond that wordlessly glared back at him, not willing to argue with the mob moss as he walked away with you. 
“I want to leave” You whispered up at him, craving to be touched by him, and forget the feeling of Walkers hands on you. 
“Let’s get out of here” He tugged your wrist, dragging you into his SUV, tossing you in the back. You waited for him to get in, snuggling into his side when he slid in beside you, gasping when he gripped your cheeks, smashing his lips onto yours. There was nothing but tongue and teeth as he claimed you, biting and nipping at your lips, his hands grasping your waist to pull you closer. 
“Home” He nodded to his driver before practically pulling you onto his lap, closing the divider as he sucked on your pulse point. He never brought women over to his place, given his line of work, he didn’t take the risk. But right now, his needs over threw that logic as he told the driver to take him home, ready to take you apart on his bed.
He hardly let you breathe the entire car ride, his tongue laced with yours, fingers tugging your hair, while your hands came down to grasp at his shirt. He broke away when the car stopped in front on the driveway, his hunger to have you wrapped around him growing stronger. 
“Come here” He pulled you out of the car, carrying you in with your legs wrapped around his waist. He took you straight to his room, kicking the door closed, holding you up with one arm before locking it and setting you down. He threw his suit jacket off before turning you around and unzipping your dress, letting it fall and pool around you feet, leaving you in your underwear. 
He groaned at the dark sheer lace that hugged your body, cupping your perfect breasts, your sweet pussy hardly covered by the tiny material of your panties. 
“On your knees” He commanded, unbuttoning his pants, pulling his cock out, rubbing the tip onto your lips, making them glossy. You licked off his precum, moaning up at him while he gripped your hair back, the other hand holding onto your jaw. “Open” 
He shoved his cock down your throat, guiding your face up and down his length,  throbbing as you gagged and choked on him. His thumbs swiped over the tears that spilled down your cheeks, moaning at how wrecked you looked. 
“So fucking perfect, sucking my cock like a the little slut you are” He groaned, “otsosi mne, printsessa”
Every whine and moan that you made went straight to his cock, twitching, dribbling arousal down your throat. He pulled you off, not willing to just cum in your mouth, not when his balls felt heavy, his cock desperate to be inside you. He carried you over to the bed, dropping you and ripping your lingerie off before stripping all his clothes off and crawling on top of you. 
You let out a soft gasp at his complete bare form. He had never taken all his clothes off before, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander from his thick muscular thighs, dripping cock, perfect chest and handsome face, he was beautiful all over. 
“James?”  You blinked as he paused between your legs, the greedy side of him desperate to taste you, something he had denied himself thus far. Until tonight. You always smelled so sweet. He was going to make sure he touched and claimed every part of your body. “James, what are you-ohmygod!” 
You gasped as he dove into your folds, his mouth unrelenting, sucking and swirling his tongue while he shoved two fingers into you, pumping them in and out, making your moans grow louder. He looked up at your squirming form, your head thrown back, thighs trembling and squeezing around his head. 
“I-I’m gonna-fuckfuck-please-P-PLEASE”
He smirked against your clit, slapping the side of your thigh before sucking with more pressure and shoving a third finger in you, throwing you over the edge. Your juices spilled out of you, soaking his face, your scent and arousal covering his beard. 
He didn’t give you any time to recover from you high, grasping your ankles and flipping you over, shoving your face down and bringing your ass up, his cock rubbing up and down your cunt. 
“moya malen'kaya shlyushka“ He mumbled to himself, spanking your ass making you cry out. “Take it princess” He spanked you again, rubbing the sting away before grasping the soft flesh, squeezing it in his hands. 
“Bet he would have loved to have you like this, hm?” 
“Who?” Your brain couldn’t function, focused on his length pressed against you, 
“Your little boy toy who wanted you attention so badly, ty shlyukha“ His fingers gripped tightly, humping and rutting his cock against you while you mewled, desperate for him to do something, “You ever let him put his cock in you?”
“N-no” You whined, as his hand gripping your ass further, guiding his cock to your fluttering entrance. A satisfied smirk graced his lips as he slammed into you, pulling your hips back to meet his thrusts, groaning at the way you cried out at the stretch. The sounds of his skin slapping on yours echoed through the room, nearly drowning out your muffled cries. 
“Yeah, you know why baby? Cause your my little slut, my fucking cum dump” He wanted to ruin you so fucking badly, your pussy would never be the same, his hand snaking down to tug your hair for leverage to fuck you harder. “That’s all your fucking good for, to take my loads, give me something warm, tight and wet to cum in”
“F-uck! JAMES” He fucked you at an animalistic pace, moving to grip onto the headboard, his brows furrowed, keeping your face buried against the mattress. 
“Such a well fucked hole, look-look at how you’re greedy cunt is swallowing my cock” 
“P-PLEASE JAMES!” You had tears in your eyes, overwhelmed with pleasure, the overstimulation consuming your body. You could hardly focus on anything, your hands blindly searching for something to hold on to. You could tell if you wanted more or less, your belly tightening again, ready to cum for a second time. 
“Shut up and take it” He growled, his hips snapping wildly, the headboard cracking under his grip. Your tears spurred him on, his cock growing harder, ruined on his bed, crying out for him. He moved one hand to shove his fingers into your mouth, moaning when he felt your pussy clench, shoving them deeper.
Your body always responded to him perfectly, he couldn’t hold on any longer, his bally heavy and tight, ready to fill you with his cum. 
“Ready for my cum, princess? Open that little pussy up for me, m’gonna fill you so much, it’ll squirt out of you, make my cock creamy princess, dirty messy slut” You could feel every vein and ridge of his cock against your sensitive walls, your arousal making his balls wet eat time they slapped your clit. “Say it, say you want my fucking cum”
“I want your cum!”  You slurred out, waiting for his warmth to flood you. 
“Who, whose cum do you fucking want” His head was thrown back, cock starting to twitch, the tip swollen and sensitive. 
“Yours daddy” 
That did it, you were too fucked out to even register what you had just called him but Bucky hear it loud and clear. It unleashed something in him, giving you 3 harsh sloppy thrusts before he couldn’t hold off any longer. 
“Shit-FUCK-hng fuuuckkkk” His movements stilled, his cock throbbing, spilling his cum into you. He gave you a few more sloppy thrusts, emptying himself before pulling out and pushing his sensitive cock into you again, rolling you over so he could see your fucked out face. He had to stop himself from lapping up your soaked pussy with his mixed arousal, his cock ready to fuck his cum back into you as it dripped out. 
“I’m not done with you”
****
Your body was limp on the bed, panting, soreness and bruises littering your skin. He had thrown you around in every position, pulling pleasure from your body as if it satiated his hunger. He pumped you full of his loads, not leaving one part of you untouched, his hands, tongue and cock caressing your body. 
After the last round, he had gotten up to splash some water on his face, his body covered in sweat, his spent cock soaked in your mixed arousal. He wasn’t a stranger to rough sex but even he felt worn out, having thrown you around like a ragdoll to his content, cumming in you until he couldn't anymore. 
As he walked back, Bucky blinked, seeing your curled up form on his bed, snuggled in his sheets. 
That wasn’t part of his plan.
He didn’t intend on letting you fall asleep. 
He couldn’t help but slip under the covers, too exhausted to think about if this was appropriate or not, waves of sleep crashing over him. He swallowed thickly when you shifted in your sleep, snuggling into his side, seeking his warmth, your arm hugging his waist, head resting on his chest. He tried to shuffle over but you clung onto him in your sleep, tucking yourself against him as much as you could, letting out a small whine whenever he moved. 
Your body felt to soft and warm on him. He had never taken the time to really look at you, but as you laid on his chest, his eyes flicked across your face, taking in your features. 
Your lashes fluttering against your cheeks. The pout of your lips. The soft curve of your jaw. There was no doubt you were beautiful but there was also something ethereal. Angelic. 
Almost...precious.
It almost felt wrong for him to touch something so sweet and delicate. 
He could smell the soft scent of your shampoo. 
His eyes drifted to the bruises that covered your body. 
The ones he marked you with. 
The ones he never paid attention to before. 
The ones he should have kissed and massaged- no. No...No?
You were nothing more than a means to an end...but he couldn't stop himself from stroking your skin, while holding you close. His hand trailed down softly to trace down your spine, making you shiver, nuzzling against him further. He couldn’t understand how even in your sleep, you were sweet. Trusting. You wanted to be wrapped in his warmth. He thought about the way you looked up at him when he tugged you from the party. The way you stayed on his lap the entire care ride home. 
He thought about how he left without looking back each time but you were always so warm whenever he came back. Soft. His body moved on its own, pulling the sheets up to cover you, pressing a delicate kiss onto your head. 
What was going on with him. 
The next morning
He blinked awake, frowning at the coldness of the bed. You had left at some point during the night, so quietly he didn’t even notice. He felt....disappointed. He wasn’t even sure why. He missed the way you fit in his arms. The way you slept so soundly while cuddled up with him. 
Something changed after that night. He sought your warmth, not just your body. He wanted to feel you wrapped around him, your arms clinging to be closer, your adorable little disgruntled sounds whenever he shifted while you slept on his chest. The way your voice soothed him. It wasn’t hooking up or just fucking anymore. It was softer each time. More sweet words. Lingering touches. He’d stay longer just to hear your honeyed voice, talking about anything, it didn’t matter. He knew this was no longer just him trying to get back at your father. 
He had fallen for you. 
He never thought he’d be capable of that type of affection, yet with you he had his first taste of sweetness and he didn’t want to let go.
A few weeks later - His room 
“Come here” He pulled you close to him, his hands softly caressing your body feeling every bit of you as he laid with you on his bed. He peppered soft kisses onto your face, making up for all the times he should have kissed you before, your skin felt like soft silk on his lips. 
He pushed himself into you slowly, for the first time, feeling all of you wrapping him in your warmth. He’d been inside you so many times before but now he actually felt you. Your sweet body under his, trusting him to take care of you. 
He couldn’t hurt you, you were so precious. 
His hands gently held onto you, rocking his hips slowly, savoring every second. 
You knew something was different. He knew something was different. 
“James, don’t stop, p-pleaase”
“I won’t stop baby, I won’t”
“Don’t let go”
“I’ll never let go malyshka, prekrasnaya printsessa” 
He was making the softest sweetest love to you and you clung onto his body never wanting it to end. He held you gently as you came undone for him, slowly thrusting into you as he reached his high. His touch was so delicate, you would have almost missed it. 
He didn’t say a word about what had just happened. 
He thought he could ignore it, go back to how things were but when he was still throbbing in you, unable to stop how much he was cumming for you, it was impossible. His body weight fell on you, still grinding and rutting his cock, moaning into your neck. He nearly sounded like he was in pain, overstimulating himself with your sweetness. 
“James?” You cupped his face, making him look at you, your thumb caressing his scruffy cheek. “Is everything okay?” 
“You feel good baby” he whispered, resting his forehead onto yours. “You feel go so good” 
“James what’s wrong” Your voice was more firm this time, cocking your head, waiting for him to tell you what was on his mind. His eyes were glassy, pushing some of your hair back, his thumb stroking your forehead. 
“You’re an angel” He gazed down at you, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, how did he ever think about using you. 
“Baby, where’s this coming from?” 
He stroked your hair, his heart sinking at your confused expression. He didn’t even know where to start.  “I- he huffed in frustration, how could he look you in the eye and tell you what his intentions were. “I-I don’t deserve you” He shook his head, biting his lip, unable to meet your eyes. He rolled you both over so you rested on his chest, your doe eyes waiting for him to continue. 
“Why?” The flash of hurt that crossed your face made his heart jump, he never wanted to be the cause of your pain. 
“Because angel, you’ve always been sweet. Kind. Affectionate. I didn’t treat you the way you deserved. I left you on your on every night when I should have held you. Made love to you, not bruised you skin” 
His voice had slowly dropped to a whisper, his heart racing. You could see tears well in his eyes, his hands trembling on your skin while he rubbed your back. 
“You’re precious angel, I can’t believe I ever treated you otherwise. You deserved love from the start” He let the tears roll down his cheeks, full prepared for you to up and leave, he knew he wasn’t worthy of you at all. And yet...he couldn’t stop the next words that slipped past his lips. 
“YA tebya lyublyu” You blinked up at him while he smiled softly, sniffling, cupping your cheek, brining you closer to him “I love you”
“You love me?” You could fee your heart hammer in your chest, as you inched closer, your nose bumping against his, your thumb wiping his tears.
“I do moya sladkaya malyshka” He kissed your forehead, then nose, and the softest kiss to your lips. “Please forgive me babygirl, please” His eyes were pleading with you, ready to give you the world in your hands if that’s what you wanted. You nodded, snuggling into his hold while he wrapped you tight, hoping he’d be able to have you just like this for the rest of his life. His sweet girl. 
“I love you James”
“Say it again baby” He whispered, wanting to hear those words from you over and over again. 
“I love you” you smiled against his skin, while he kissed your head. 
“My sweet doll” He adored you so much. “Say it again”
After secret dating and sneaking around for as long as you could
Now given that Bucky is your fathers rival, you can imagine it isn’t exactly the easiest thing to bring up. Tony is not immediately on board. At all. 
Until he sees you both one day when you both think no one’s looking. He’s a little taken aback at how soft Bucky is for you. Who knew such a jackass could also be such a gentleman. 
Your both outside in your garden; you thought your dad had gone out for meetings for the day. Bucky has you on his lap, feeding you berries with kisses in between each bite. He can’t take his eyes off you, nose nuzzled against your cheek, cuddling you under the warm sun. He can’t stop smiling and looking at you with heart eyes, his hands playing with your hair. 
Clint snorts, watching Tony narrow his eyes at you both while watching you from his office. He so badly wants to shoot Bucky because again, how dare this cocky jack ass come to his house and woo his babygirl, fuck no. 
But also...
You looked so happy. 
“They’re cute, huh” Clint joined Tony’s side, smirk down at your both. 
“Shut up”
He wants to go down and tell the mob boss to get his hands off his daughter but you laugh and snuggle into Bucky further. 
“It’s been months boss, she’s the only one he’s been with, I hate to say it but it looks like he really loves her. And she loves him” 
“Why do you know this”
“You’re not the only one who keeps tabs on her, she’s everyone little princess” Clint rolled his eyes, knowing the way all of Tony’s men cared for you like their own. Tony grunts, leaving to pour himself a taaaallll glass of whisky. 
He wasn’t Bucky’s number 1 fan but for his little princess, he will allow it. There’s no doubt that Bucky loves you almost more than him. If you were a princess at home, Bucky treats you like a queen. You’d always be protected. Cared for. 
Bucky comes directly to Tony all on his own, asking for your hand. Yes, its an outdated practice but he respects Tony and wants him to know his intentions are to love you and take care of you. He knows how much it would mean to you for father to say yes. 
It’s a long discussion. Lots of differences put aside. Alliances formed. 
Tony still thinks Bucky is a jackass but he can’t help but smile at the happy squeals he hears down the hall when Bucky goes straight to you to ask you to marry him.
A sweet intimate wedding. Not exactly small, but only people you both care for are there. Steve and Sam spend the entire time at the altar with shit eating “I told you so” grins. 
(Tony’s wedding present is the south side) 
Your first son, Steve Anthony Barnes is spoiled beyond reason by literally everyone. Steve and Sam compete with Tony and Clint and it’s done nothing but get on your nerves because you’d need a second house with how many presents he gets for no reason at all. 
Your baby girl, Rebecca Samantha Barnes is daddy’s little princess. (Bucky will never, ever in his life admit he now understands how Tony felt over you. He kicks himself every so often and spoils you as much as he can) 
The twins, Clinton and Natalia can only be left together for so long before they get up to mischief. Which is every minute of the day. Steve confirmed that dealing with illegal shipments was less terrorizing. Everyone agreed. 
And of course with each day, Bucky is still head over heals in love with you. 
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Sweet Nothing | Bucky Barnes x Reader
Back at it again with another Taylor Swift inspired fic because I'm mentally ill, babes :)
Warnings: some anxiety
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"They said the end is coming. Everyone's up to something. I find myself running home to your Sweet nothings. Outside they're push and shoving. You're in the kitchen humming. All that you ever wanted from me was Sweet nothing."
Bucky stood in the doorway, silently watching you. He loved to observe, to drink you in without you knowing. He liked seeing how you lived in moments when you thought you were alone, without your self-conscious tendencies or insecurities.
These quiet moments belonged to him- only him. And he never took them for granted. He committed to memory everything about you, every small detail he could catch. 
He loved knowing that, somehow, the two of you crossed paths. You found each other despite all the nightmares. And he could never put into words how grateful he was to have you in his life. Even when he was away, just knowing that you lived in the same timeline eased his anxiety.
But after watching you for a while, he couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t resist holding you. He wrapped his strong arms around you from behind and pulled you flush to his chest. His stubbled chin rested on your shoulder as his lips found your neck.
“Good morning, doll.” His voice was low, gravelly from sleep. “Whatcha got goin’ on here?”
You reached up and tangled your fingers in Bucky’s hair, eliciting a quiet sigh from his chest. “And good morning to you, Sarge. I thought I’d make us some French toast.” 
Bucky’s “mmmmmm” vibrated against your back. “You didn’t have to do that.”
A quick spin brought you face to face with him. He always looked so cute in the morning, with his tired eyes and disheveled hair.
“You’re finally home, babe. I wanted to make you your favorite breakfast.” His dog tags clinked as you toyed with them for the first time since his return. 
“Well, that’s very sweet of you,” Bucky said, dotting a kiss to your forehead. “Let me help,” he dropped a kiss to your nose. “Put me to work, sweetheart,” finally, his lips met yours. 
“No, you don’t have to do anything-”
“But I want to!” Bucky’s hands made quick work of your sides, tickling you mercilessly. “Let me help, let me help, let me help!”
“Okay, okay!” you breathed, “you can help!” It took several moments for your laughter to cease and your breath to return; Bucky knew exactly how to get to you. “I’m putting you on bacon and fruit.”
He followed your orders and quickly got to work cutting up strawberries and cooking bacon. These were the moments Bucky missed most. He missed the safety, the domesticity, the peace you brought. An unstoppable smile forced his lips upward as he listened to you talk about your dreams from the previous night and the latest update on your work drama. 
It wasn’t flashy or exciting, but it was warm. Comfortable. And while others may have been bored with such a menial task, Bucky reveled in it. He never thought he’d experience the quiet things, the soft things. But now that he had, he couldn't get enough. He wanted to fold laundry with you. Grocery shop. Cook dinner. All the normal things he'd been without for years.
And cutting up strawberries for his favorite person to put on her French toast made him happier than he ever thought possible.
With breakfast finished and the kitchen clean, you gave Bucky an expectant look. 
“Yes?” He pressed his lips to yours, tasting syrup and strawberries. “Can I help you with something?”
“I’m just wondering what you wanna do today!” you told him. “You pick. We can do whatever you want.”
Bucky’s jaw tensed. It was so quick that you almost missed it, but you’d gotten good and picking up his miniscule indicators of stress. “Oh, I hadn’t… I hadn’t really thought about, sweetheart,” he lied. “Give me a little time to mull it over?”
“Of course, babe. No rush.” You planted a quick, syrup-flavored peck to his lips, “I’m gonna go jump in the shower, you think it over and let me know.”
Bucky remained in the kitchen, conflicted. He knew what he wanted to do, how he wanted to spend the day. But he feared you wouldn’t like his plan. He knew you wanted to do something fun, like ice skating or axe throwing. But Bucky’s idea was simpler, more understated. And the last thing he wanted was to let you down.
When you emerged from the shower, you threw another expectant look his way. “So, what’s the verdict, Buck?”
You were ready to do whatever he wanted- no matter what. He’d been gone for just over a week, and letting him pick the entire day’s itinerary was only fair. There were things he missed out on while he way away. Things he didn’t get to do, things he wanted to do with you. And so, if he wanted to spend the day bar hopping or strolling through the farmer’s market, you’d happily oblige.
More than anything, though, you wanted to do absolutely nothing. You wanted to melt into the couch with Bucky’s body wrapped around yours. You wanted to listen to his heartbeat, play with his hair, hold his head against your chest. The safe, quiet world inside the apartment you shared was your favorite place to be. It gave you a sense of comfort and warmth you’d never experienced before. And you wanted to spend every second in the oasis you'd created together.
Sure, going to the movies or the museum was always fun- everything you did with Bucky was fun. You could’ve spent hours watching paint dry with him and it would probably make the list of your top ten favorite days. Time with him passed quickly. Easily. 
But keeping him all to yourself, holed up in your cozy apartment was your favorite way to spend the day. Just the two of you, reveling in the other’s presence. His safe return was all you ever hoped for. And now that he was home, you needed some quiet time with him. You needed to feel him next to you- no distractions, no disturbances- to assure you that he was really back. That he really returned to you in one piece. 
And maybe it was selfish that you wanted to keep him from the outside world. But it was the only thing that could ease your mind after he spent a long mission away. 
It wasn’t fair, though. You knew he was more than just your boyfriend. He surely wanted to spend the day catching up on what he missed while away. There was an exhibit at the Met you knew he was interested in; his favorite author had released a new book just yesterday. There was a whole world outside your apartment- no matter how hard you tried to deny it. And so, you resigned to keep your desires to yourself. Even if you didn’t feel like taking a trip to the pier or the library or the arcade. Because, truthfully, you would’ve been more than happy do anything Bucky wanted- as long as you got to do it with him.
Bucky shifted his weight and brought a hand up to his dog tags- a nervous habit you’d come to know. “Would you…” he sighed, “would you be disappointed if I said I didn’t wanna do anything today?”
You cocked your head to the side, “what?”
Shame bloomed in Bucky’s chest. It pushed through the muscle and bone and rooted itself just beneath his skin- he almost feared you could see it. “I know I just got back, and there’s probably things you want us to do together. But I’d rather just spend the day at home… if that’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Or…” he found himself backpedaling, regretting his words. “We can still go out and do something- just a little later? We can compromise; I don’t want you to be bored. I just want some time together- some time for us. Just us. I want you all to myself for a while… if you don’t mind.”
You took his hand from his dog tags and encapsuled it with your own. You wished he wasn’t so nervous about expressing himself. You wished he was more comfortable speaking his mind. But he saw his presence in your life as an interruption, a nuisance, a tumor. He wondered when you’d excise him.
Society kept him on thin ice, no matter how many times he redeemed himself. And though he knew you loved him; he was scared of messing up the life you shared. He feared the ice beneath him would crack. And without you, he’d drown in the freezing water. 
“You don’t want to do anything?” you asked, “you just wanna stay here?”
He gave another nod, his eyes downcast.
A massive smile spread across your face as you melted into his body. “I was secretly hoping you’d wanna stay in.”
Bucky reach down and hooked a finger under your chin, tilting your face toward his. “You were?”
“Yeah, I mean, I always have a good time with you- no matter what we’re doing.” You thought back on all the things you’d experience together, the trips and the museum visits and the concerts. “But- I don’t know, I just like doing nothing with you. I like when it’s just us and we hang out at home, you know?”
Bucky wasn’t sure he heard you right. “Really? I thought that…” he rolled his eyes at his own assumption. Of course, he'd expect the worst. And of course, he was wrong. “I thought I was kind of... I don't know, anchoring you here. Dragging you down with all my excuses to stay home. I’ve been worried that I was boring you.”
The words made your heart crack. They nearly pushed you off balance, forcing you to take a step back and steady yourself. “You thought… you thought I was bored?”
“Yeah, I mean, you’re dating a ‘superhero’- or whatever…” he cringed at the word, knowing that ‘hero’ didn’t apply to him. “I’ve been thinking that… that maybe you had this grand idea in your head of what a relationship with me- with an Avenger- would look like, you know? Stark galas, me saving the world, exciting things happening every day.” A deep sigh left his chest as his hand once again found his dog tags. “And I think we both know that my life isn’t nearly that cool or interesting. It’s mostly just PTSD and people harassing me on the subway.”
“Bucky, baby, I’m not bored-”
“Are you sure?” The doubt in his eyes cut you to the bone. 
“Yes. Oh my god- I only suggested that we go do something because I didn’t want you to be bored."
"I'm not bored, I could never be bored- not with you." The words came quick and firm, like he thought he could stem your leaking anxiety with his assurances. "I'd just so rather be here. With you- just you. And going out always ends up making me feel like shit anyway, so..." At least twice during every outing, Bucky dealt with hecklers. Harassers. They called him names and threw things at him. Screamed and ran when he came near. He'd had the cops called on him more times than he could count.
"Buck, I’m a homebody, babe- I always have been. I just didn’t wanna tell you because I thought you wanted to go do stuff. Honestly," you laughed, "I fucking love doing nothing.”
Bucky pulled you to his chest where you belonged. The unfounded fears he held bout your relationship never came to fruition. He knew they were inaccurate and misguided. But he couldn’t stop himself from believing them.
“And hey, I didn’t start dating you because you’re an Avenger- I was never looking for high speed car chases or you fighting maniacal supervillains in our living room,” you said. “I just wanna be with you. Plain and simple.”
Bucky knew you were telling the truth- but how long could this last? How much time did he have with you before you grew tired of this life with him? How long would he be enough? He didn’t have anything to offer you- not money or social capital. You were simply worth more than Bucky.
In almost record time, he found himself spiraling with no chance of return.
But, as though you’d read his mind, you saved him from the rabbit hole. “I don’t want anything from you- no galas or photo shoots. I just want to be with you. I want you. You’re enough- more than enough.”
“But, doll-”
You held up a hand silencing him. “What do you want from me?”
He stared at you, confused. “I don’t… what do you mean?”
“What are you hoping to get out of this? By being in a relationship with me, what are you trying to gain?” 
“Nothing…” he said, his voice soft yet firm. “I love you- I just want to be with you.”
“Exactly!” You tugged him into the living room and pulled him down onto the couch, demanding that his body rest atop yours. “This is all I want from you. I just want time, closeness. That’s all- that’s all I’ll ever ask of you.”
Bucky’s muscles slackened as the feeling of your touch washed over him. He breathed easier, felt his heart rate slow. His chin rested in the crook of your neck, his stubble scratching at your skin. “This is what I want from you, doll. All I’ll ever want.”
“Good,” you gave a contented sigh. “And let me tell yeah, now that the truth is on the table and we’re gonna be staying in more often… we’re gonna save so much money.”
“Money we can use for take-out!” Bucky said. “I know we ate breakfast like half an hour ago but the anxiety burned off all my French toast. So, I’m gonna need to order some lunch soon.” He pressed a line of kisses to your neck before hopping up from the couch in search of the stash of take-out menus.
This was where you wanted to be. Apartment 381 on Bleeker Street. Complete with its warped floors and painted-shut windows. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was home. This was where Bucky told you he loved you for the first time. Where you cooked him recipes from your childhood. Where he almost burned down the building because he didn’t know how to use an air fryer. 
The small space with its water damage and metric ton of take-out menus was better any high-profile event or fancy gala. It was your home- the home you shared with Bucky. And that’s all you ever wanted.
——————————
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tee-swizzle · 2 days
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cobblestones
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– summary: "You had done a lot of fucked up shit in your life, but fucking your dad’s best pal and falling in love with him by far took the cake."
–[500] warnings: 18+, age gap (significant), dad's best friend!bucky, stalking, being followed, etc.
– a/n: something new + fun I’m trying out hehe <3
You sat alone, an empty brown leather barstool beside you that should’ve been occupied by a brooding man with sapphire eyes. Staring into them had become your new routine and when you weren’t looking up at them, lying beneath him, you were thinking about how the shades of blue that littered the sunset matched the hues of his irises. Moving your hands, you grabbed your coat off the back of your chair before sliding it on and pulling your hair out from underneath the collar; downing the gin and tonic in front of you and slipping out of the front door of the whole in the wall bar you previously been occupying. The click-clack of your heels on the pavement is all that your tipsy brain could focus on as you started your journey home, the cobblestones of Brooklyn loud under your feet. You trekked on for a while seemingly unaware of your surroundings until a large dark shadow appeared in the glow of the street lights on the stones you walked on. Had you not been tipsy, maybe you would’ve heard the second set of feet much sooner. You quickened your pace, doing your best to calm your breathing before pulling your phone discreetly out of your front pocket and dialing his number, knowing that he was in the company of your father. You had done a lot of fucked up shit in your life, but fucking your dad’s best pal and falling in love with him by far took the cake. At this moment, however, none of that mattered. He was the only one who felt safe enough to dial and you didn’t care who he was with. It rang for what felt like forever until his gruff voice met your ears in holy matrimony. 
“Hey, pretty girl.” 
He uttered the words that you had heard a thousand times in a thousand greetings, they still melted you; warmth spreading over your limbs like the first hot air hitting your face as you retreated inside from the snow. 
“Buck, I’m in trouble.” 
The hair on the back of his neck stood as the tremble in your voice. 
“You’re okay, sweetheart. What’s the matter?” 
He queried, knowing it had to be important for you to call him at this dinner party, especially when he was in the company of the person the both of you were trying to protect from your forbidden romance. 
“I’m being followed, Buck.” 
You whispered, the stranger gaining on you, a distance no longer between you. 
“Where are you, baby?” 
He asked with panic stricken features. 
“The corner of Cornelia, right by my apartment.” 
You whispered back into the phone. 
“Go into the store on the corner, sweetheart. Wait for me there, I’m coming.” 
He said with a soft but stern tone. You only muttered an ‘okay,’ his face and hug the only thing you needed to feel safe again. 
“Hurry, Buck. I’m scared.” 
You replied and his chest almost caved in at the sound of you so distraught. 
“Hold tight, baby. I’m coming.” 
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rosepetalsinwinter · 3 days
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Look At Me — Bucky Barnes
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Pairing: 40s!bucky x nurse!reader
Word count: 11,951
Summary: She never expected to fall so deeply for Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes, what with his skirt-chasing tendencies and cocky personality. Except how was she to know war would change everything she thought she wanted? Suddenly, she wanted him.
Warnings: angst, violence, WW2, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, death, torture, whump, HYDRA, post-serum Steve Rodgers, kissing, angst with happy ending. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK
Note: I got a little carried away... oops. Anyway, happy reading!
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Ao3│Wattpad│Ko-fi
Main Masterlist
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Enjoy!
"We'll set up camp here. The sun's getting low, and it's not safe to travel at night. We'll freeze to death if we try." James "Bucky" Barnes flung his pack to the ground and stretched his aching limbs over his head, sore from walking all day.
The infantry had left camp early that morning, just before dawn. They were to travel across the Eastern Italian border and meet the British battalion just south of Azzano. General McGinnis planned to march with a regiment of his own a week after news of the 107th's safe arrival reached camp.
"Should I start a fire, Sergeant?" Private Andrew Eaton asked, rubbing his hands together. The sun was setting, spreading a soft glow over the snow-ridden forest. "Warm us up?" His eyes flicked toward the girl, and she stiffened under his gaze.
She was a nurse, travelling with the soldiers because of her immaculate record. She had never lost a man before; one could be on the brink of death and would survive if she got her hands on them. Her expertise was unmatched and desperately needed on the Eastern Front, where the allies were losing men at an alarming rate.
Bucky shook his head. "We're too close to enemy lines. The smoke will draw attention, and we can't risk that."
Multiple eyes drifted to the nurse's shivering form, some filled with pity, others with concern. She had not once complained about the walk nor the temperature, but she was no soldier. Everyone knew her body was at risk of collapse; unaccustomed to the harsh terrain of the Dolomite Mountains, her back hunched with the weight of her pack, her eyes drooped with fatigue, cheeks crimson with cold and body trembling.
Mimicking Bucky, she, too, flung her bag on the frozen soil and dropped unceremoniously on it, finally giving in to her exhaustion.
"You sure about that, Sergeant Barnes?" Eaton questioned. The girl widened her eyes in alarm. It was one thing to hold the soldiers back with her slow pace and decreased stamina, another to put them all in danger. "Maybe we should risk it."
Typically, questioning a superior officer was inappropriate and inexcusable, but not one person reacted negatively to the Private's question. Murmurs of approval spread through the men.
Bucky turned toward the nurse, taking in her form. Like the rest of his soldiers, he also worried for the girl—more than he should have. She did not have any endurance training. She had not even left the relative safety of the camp until now, and it took everything in Bucky to stop himself from carrying her back to base camp, where she would be safe from the threat of gunfire and death.
He opened his mouth—to either agree with Eaton or disagree with him—no one could know. The girl chose that moment to let go of her hesitations. "I once spent an entire night out in the streets of France with just a pair of gloves and a tattered jacket," she rushed out. At the confused looks, she clarified, "in the middle of December." More looks. "In negative twenty-five-degree weather..." her voice was slowly tapering into shyness. "I am alive, am I not?"
"How much is that in Fahrenheit, Miss?" And the conversation moved forward.
The soldiers insisted on lighting at least a small fire for the girl's sake, igniting one under the cover of the dense coniferous trees. While the men began to set up camp for the night, Bucky stood there with a puckered brow and a frown marring his features, before shaking his head and helping them.
The nurse decided she would not be the one to risk them all. After another twenty minutes or so of bickering, she finally lost her temper. "You might as well know by now; I'm inherently stubborn, and nothing any of you say or do will change my mind."
After that, a perimeter was established, lookouts were posted, and tents were begrudgingly set up. Some soldiers retired to rest while others passed down alcohol, huddled against each other to conserve heat.
"It'll warm you up." Bucky sat down next to the shivering girl on a collapsed, decaying tree. He thrust a flask toward her mouth, urging her to drink from it. He took a sip when she made no move, clearing his throat and asking her again. "Will you drink some?"
His voice was sweet and kind, and she despised it. She pursed her lips in response and leaned away. "No, thank you," she replied while her teeth chattered.
Bucky frowned in annoyance. Her stubbornness, which he usually found amusing, was turning out to be somewhat of a hindrance.
"Sorry, doll, but it wasn't a question." He thrust the flask toward her once more, belligerent in his attempt.
She leaned farther away, and Bucky followed her, trapping her against the tree. "No, thank you. You know I don't drink alcohol—."
"Yes!" he suddenly grew frustrated and ran a trembling hand through his brown locks. Somehow the girl always managed to get on his nerve. "I know you don't drink, alright? And I know you hate cursing, that you're stubborn as hell, and that you talk funny because 'proper use of language is important.' I also know that you'll die of hypothermia if you don't warm yourself up, and I rather not have to explain to Colonel Phillips that we lost our only good nurse to stubbornness."
The girl inhaled sharply, her emotions in overdrive. She didn't realize how much he noticed her little quirks.
"I'd rather not have to explain to Colonel Phillips that we lost our only good nurse to stubbornness."
"Now, your whining might've worked in Brooklyn," Bucky continued. "Especially with Steve backing you up; but it won't work here. If you haven't noticed, we're not in New York anymore."
"I have eyes," the girl snapped, convinced she was nothing but a burden to him and the soldiers. She wondered again why Colonel Philips sent her, of all people, with the 107th. She didn't think she was that good. "You won't have to explain a thing. Don't worry. I won't die so easily."
Her words were laced with contempt and a hint of something else. Remorse, Bucky realized with a start, though before he could ponder on it any longer, she began to rise, seemingly done with their conversation.
"Damn it, woman!" Bucky's loud voice caught the entire camp's attention. He grabbed her forearm and yanked her back down. She winced when her bottom landed on the trunk a bit too hard. "I'll force this down your throat if I have to."
The girl blanched, shocked by Bucky's authoritative tone. "N-no, you will not!" She made an effort to appear commanding, but her stutter betrayed her. She was scared he would make good on his promise.
"You do not want to test me," he seethed. There was a look in Bucky's eyes she had not seen before. A crazed, almost feral glint in his pupils.
Her heartbeat quickened, and her insides warmed. She chalked it up to adrenaline. "I'm not that cold anymore."
Bucky said nothing, just continued to stare at her with the feral look still in his eyes.
Seconds passed—seconds that felt like minutes—before he spoke. "We're sleeping in one tent tonight." She didn't know why he was telling her that. "Together. To preserve body heat." She was still confused. "You either drink this, girl," he thrust the flask toward her lips once more. "or I'll make you sleep between my men. God knows they haven't touched a woman in months. So they won't have any complaints."
She argued with him, calling him petty names, and stuttering through excuses. "Y-you—you're."
"What?" he taunted. "Say it. Am I an asshole? A fucking idiot? Go on, don't be shy."
"You're an incompetent Sergeant. The most incompetent I've ever met!"
"I'm the only Sergeant you've ever met," Bucky deadpanned. "Seriously? That the best you can do?"
It was. "You're not that cruel! You're bluffing, like you bluffed about throwing me in the East River last year when I went out with that doctor."
"That doctor was a fucking creep with a criminal record," Bucky seethed. The girl's refusal went unheard. "And I wasn't bluffing. If Steve didn't stop me, you would have been swimming with the fish."
She muttered her annoyance under her breath, but Bucky caught it.
"God as my witness, I'll take you over my shoulder and lie on top of you if I have to!" One look into his eyes, and she could tell he was not lying.
When again he thrust the flask toward her mouth, she begrudgingly took it from him, bringing the cool metal to her lips. When the alcohol's bitter smell reached her, she almost gagged at the potent stench.
"I can't!" the girl choked on a sob, shoving the flask back into Bucky's hands.
A smirk adorned his pink lips, so unlike the anger she had been expecting. "Don't say I didn't warn ya." And before she could react, her world had been turned upside down.
Her legs went up, and her head went down. For a few moments, she froze, unable to understand what had happened. When a hand landed on her bottom, she gasped, realizing that Bucky had indeed made good on his promise—taken her over his shoulder.
When she screamed out of frustration, he shushed her. "Don't make me gag you."
The girl felt red, hot embarrassment at being treated like a child in front of all the soldiers. She scratched fruitlessly at Bucky's back, only to end up clutching his fatigues with numb fingers as he carried her across the clearing. At least the men had half a mind to keep their gaze averted when she was thrown unceremoniously inside one of the tents.
"You act like a caveman," she hissed, looking up at his scrunched brow.
Bucky's eyes softened, and all previous frustration and anger left him. Her insult amused him, and he plopped down next to her with a silent huff. "And you act like a brat."
The girl's answering words died on her tongue at Andrew Eaton's voice. "Lose the frown, Miss. There's not a single man here who wouldn't take a bullet for you, Barnes included."
A couple more soldiers entered the small tent, taking up the rest of the space. The girl ignored them, inhaling deeply. "I was perfectly fine outside, Andrew. Not cold at all."
A quick laugh from Bucky. "Is that why your lips are blue, and you're shaking like a leaf? 'Cause, you're not cold at all?"
"—He's just tryna keep you alive," Andrew interrupted before another argument could ensue.
A laugh bubbled up in the girl's throat before she could stop it. For some reason, the suggestion that Bucky Barnes was keeping her alive made her hysterical. Bucky Barnes, the man who couldn't keep a plant alive. She laughed until her stomach hurt, then she took a deep breath, clutched her middle while she fell backwards, and continued laughing.
"Fucking hell? She's crazy," the girl heard Bucky curse under his breath, but she was so far gone in delirium she could not be bothered to scold him for it.
"At least she's not frownin' anymore," Andrew offered.
The girl laughed harder, curling in on herself. Bucky stared at her with confused amusement, barely concealed, and chuckled softly. She was the most bizarre person he had ever met. So odd. Lately, he caught himself smiling more in her presence than ever before, finding it harder to resist her contagious delights. She was a constant amusement for the rest of the soldiers as well. Entertaining, though stressful.
She was still very clumsy, tripping on rocks and slipping down declines. A soldier needed to be watching her all the time, and that soldier, unbeknownst to her, was generally Bucky. He had grown eyes in the back of his head, trying to ensure she did not hurt herself. The girl had touched the hearts of all the men, his most of all, though he tried to conceal the fact by being curt and severe with her. Despite that, he did find pleasure in being able to tame her.
Ludovic Fournier, the Frenchman, muttered a phrase in his native tongue, and Andrew translated for him. "Women go a bit crazy before starting their courses. It's best to indulge them and not question it."
The entire tent went crazy, laughing and hollering almost as hard as the girl had been. Though she was not laughing anymore, and she was not amused. Her laughter died as quickly as it started—jarringly abrupt.
"I'm right here, you know!" She turned to the Frenchman. "Dis-moi, monsieur," the girl turned to him with a sarcastic and slightly intimidating curl of her lips. "Comment avez-vous appris tant de choses sur les femmes?"
The Frenchman swallowed thickly, and from behind him, Andrew translated his words to the small group. "She's asking how he got so damn smart."
"Ma femme."
"Ah! Idiote moi. Mais bien sûr. Ta femme doit être folle si elle tá épousé. Rien à voir avec se scours. Accune femme saine désprit ne portrait passer plus d'une journee avec toi sans avoir besoin d'être admis dans en établissement mental par la suite."
"She says, don't blame that time of the month, or your poor wife, when it's you're the reason she's like that." He guffawed out loud, drawing the girl's attention, before continuing. "Anyone would go crazy after spending more than a minute with you. Jesus Christ! Man, oh, man!"
The girl went warm all over. That was precisely why she tended to keep quiet. Her temper would rise if she did not keep her emotions in check. She had only ever lost it with Bucky before, never in front of a crowd. "Excuse me, gentlemen," she mustered what remaining dignity she had left, "but it's time for me to rest. I will see you all in the morning, bright and early. Good night."
Amidst all the hysterical laughing and the rampant rambling, the girl had forgotten Bucky's promise. He yanked her down before she could leave. He had indulged her long enough.
"I'm not letting you kill yourself—don't," he started, when he noticed her lips curl, "start laughing again. It was traumatizing enough the first time."
What he meant: "Please don't laugh again, because if you do, I wouldn't want you to stop. Ever." Except he did not know he felt such a thing. So, he annoyed her instead, undermining his affection for her.
The girl huffed loudly, voicing her frustration. The rest of the men settled inside the tent, pressed against each other for heat, hoping for at least a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. "I'm not cold anymore. I told you before."
"You're the worst liar I have ever met. Seriously! Worse than Steve." That was true. Steve was a horrible liar. "I can see you shivering. Hell! I can hear you!"
Bucky decided to give her a choice. A poor one, yes, but a choice, nonetheless. "Where do you wanna sleep? In between Fournier and Ward or next to Eaton?" He leaned in close, putting a hand next to his mouth as if indulging her with a secret. "I gotta warn you, though. He snores like a pig."
The girl simmered. She did not want to spend the night in the middle of men, and Bucky knew that. He was intimately aware of her reservation toward the opposite sex."Over here is fine." She was referring to the front of the tent where she was already seated.
"Perfect! This way, I'll be able to keep an eye on you."
"Excuse me?"
"You did choose the coldest spot, but I won't complain. Promise." He shrugged out of his jacket.
"What are you doing?"
"—as long as you wear this."
By now, it was a sort of ritual for Bucky to demand something of the girl and for her to deny him. No matter how helpful or minuscule the command, she could hardly help it anymore, even though it always ended with her compliance—sometimes forced.
"No, thank you." She was nothing if not stubborn.
Bucky scoffed. Grabbing her wrists, he pulled her down until she was in his lap. The girl stifled her scream and gasped instead.
The rest of the men were almost all asleep, exhausted from the long day. So was the girl, though she would not admit it. She was tired and cold—more than usual—and scared; of what was to come and of what was currently taking place. Her ancient promise of staying away from James Buchanan Barnes was becoming harder to uphold.
Bucky knew this—not of her promise, of course, but of her crumbling resolve—So he pushed. He flustered and confused her. "Only because it's amusing," he told himself—her reaction to his teasing. "Only because it's amusing,"
"You should stick with red. Purple is not a good colour on you, and that's what you'll become if you don't listen to me." He placed his jacket over her shoulders, and she was instantly warmed.
"What about you?" Her voice was meek and hesitant, words honeyed in their delivery. "Will you not get cold?" But he only smirked and raised his brows in answer. "Oh. Right." She had forgotten his natural affinity for all things warm, so unlike her own, for all things cold.
"I've got both you and Eaton keeping me warm. I wouldn't worry about it." Bucky smirked when the girl said nothing and only blinked in surprise.
She lowered herself, letting her head touch the soft ground. Tarps had been placed neatly all over, offering protection from the snow surrounding them. She turned away from Bucky, putting a foot of space between him and herself, holding her breath when she felt him lie next to her. However, the second she relaxed, his arm wrapped around her midsection and pulled her flush against his front, not an inch separating them.
"Bucky!" she warned in a hushed whisper, struggling against his hold. "This is inappropriate!"
"No!" he huffed in her ear, hot breath warming her neck. "This is survival!" She continued her futile attempts, trying harder to elude his grasp. "Besides, I gave you my only jacket, and I need to—Damn it, woman! Stop moving," he groaned in her ear.
"Why?" she asked, squirming harder.
"Because—Damn it!" he groaned again. "Just stop, will ya?" A deep breath. "Please."
The girl went still. Bucky Barnes never said please, never begged. She had not thought it possible. So, to hear him beg her... she decided she could never let Bucky Barnes use that word ever again. It was dangerous when uttered by his lips. An irresistible, compelling word that she could never deny, gladly giving in to any request.
"Please."
"Sorry," she muttered quietly, quickly settling down, unsure if he was listening. He was. "I'm sorry."
The girl let the tiredness of the day wash over her. She let Bucky's arms hold her, keep her safe and warm, and protect her. Her eyes closed, and she entered the state before sleep where the body was still aware and preparing for rest.
"You drive me crazy," Bucky's whispered in her ear, so quiet she convinced herself she imagined it.
"You drive me crazy too," was her last thought before she let deep slumber overtake her. Except the girl knew Bucky did not mean it with the same intention as hers. "So crazy."
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At a steep decline, her foot swept away from under her on an icy patch of grass. From behind her, Bucky dropped his copy of "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn," extending his arm to grab her. He was not fast enough, and she fell on her back, sliding down until she hit a mountain of fresh snow.
"Jesus Christ, Darling!" Bucky reached under her arms to haul her up as if she weighed nothing. "You gotta watch where you're stepping."
"It's too dark," she sputtered, wiping snow off her face. "I couldn't see anything." From the east, the full moon was their only source of light, doing a poor job of illuminating the path through the dense forest around them.
"Fucking hell," Bucky swore, appraising the girl from head to toe. "You're soaked."
"I'm fine," she rasped, already beginning to shiver as the cold permeated her layers to settle in her skin. "I can keep going."
"Like hell you can," Bucky muttered, looking ahead to see everyone else's progress.
"There's no need to swear," the girl grumbled, pulling her hat farther down.
Bucky raised a brow at that. "At least the cold didn't get to your head."
She rolled her eyes, turning to leave, but Bucky grabbed her before she could take a single step, hauling her up in his arms. She shrieked, wrapping her hands around his neck for stability. "What are you doing?"
"You're going to trip again," he said by way of explanation. "It's just a little bit further. Then we'll set up camp."
Bucky ignored the girl's protests, quickly catching up with the rest of the battalion. They walked another mile in about half an hour, and Bucky ignored all of the girl's grumbling, only acknowledging her once they reached a small clearing and began setting up camp.
"Shut up," he grumbled, to which he received a smack on the back of his head.
"You shut up."
He lowered the girl next to the small smokeless fire Simon Ward lit, draping his jacket over her, "Dry up as much as you can. I'll be back."
Scooting closer to the small blaze, the girl pulled Bucky's jacket tighter around her shoulders, studying the flame with intensity as she recalled waking up the past few days.
The girl had gone to sleep slightly rigid and stiff, unused to resting next to another body, but she woke up in a tangle of limbs. Bucky's hands in her hair, her face tucked in the crook of his neck. Sometime in the middle of the night, she had turned over and gravitated closer to the heat his body was radiating. It was the best sleep either of them had ever had. Neither was willing to acknowledge it.
The night after was a repeat of the night before. Bucky threatened alcohol down the girl's throat, and she responded with a litany of insults which he laughed away. They wrestled while everyone watched—Bucky won, and the girl awoke the next day surrounded by a familiar warmth and a musky scent one could only describe as Bucky Barnes.
A week later, the moon was low in the sky, marking the beginning of winter. Neither the girl nor Bucky brought up their temporary sleeping arrangements, choosing to ignore the feelings festering inside them. The girl felt her resolve slowly crumbling. What was that promise she made to herself regarding Bucky Barnes? She couldn't quite recall.
The girl busied herself with unpleasant memories of his. She remembered when she first moved into the apartment across from Bucky. She was carrying a box full of books up the fifth floor of a six-story building. She had to take a break every few minutes to rest her arms, or they would've fallen off. Just outside her door, she collided with a brick wall. Her books went flying—so did she—and Bucky Barnes ran past her without so much as an "excuse me," muttering profanity under his breath. From then on, she started hating him.
That's how she met Steve. The slender young man popped a blonde head out of his friend's door and asked if he could help. She said, "no thanks," but he didn't listen, insisting on bringing the rest of her things up. That night, over a cup of hot tea, she learned about James Buchanan Barnes and his skirt-chasing tendencies. She began to hate him a bit more.
She recalled all his jabs of how she dressed, the way she looked, mocking her insecurities by sarcastically complimenting her. The ruined date with that doctor—never mind the potential criminal record. His threat to drown her.
He broke her friend's heart, told her he would call the next day and didn't. She was married now with a baby on the way, but it was the principle of the thing that irked her.
One by one, all of Bucky's wrongdoings came to the forefront of the girl's mind. When he argued with her, undermined her, and treated her like porcelain. When he called her "doll," "darling," and "sweetheart."
She hated that most of all.
Still, she could not ignore the tiny flutter in her heart whenever she thought of the blue-eyed sergeant. Despite all the bad, she now only remembered his warm smile and comforting embrace.
The girl brought her hand dangerously close to the fire, letting the flame irritate her skin before pulling away. She still felt cold.
Bucky returned a few moments later, rubbing his bare hands together in front of his face. "You tired?"
The girl ignored his question, asking one of her own. "Where are your gloves?"
Bucky's frosty breath momentarily covered his face. "Bradshaw lost his."
"Jeremy?"
Bucky nodded with a smile, unsurprised the girl knew most of the soldiers' names. "Wait, what are you doing?"
She fished her gloves from her coat, thrusting them toward him. "They're dry now. Here, take them."
"Don't be stupid," Bucky scoffed, "you'll get cold." Still, she persevered, leaving her hand dangling. "I'm not taking your gloves," Bucky said with finality.
"Alright," she nodded, dropping her hand and taking off his jacket instead.
Bucky seized her by the shoulders, stopping her and giving her a little shake. "What the fucking hell, woman! Keep your jacket on. It's freezing."
"Don't swear. It's yours, not mine. Take it." She tried prying his fingers off, but he wouldn't budge. "The gloves or the jacket, Bucky. Your choice."
"So goddamn stubborn. Every day you find something new to argue with me about, don't you?"
"Pick one," she warned, "or I'm giving both to Jeremy."
With a mumbled curse, Bucky snatched the gloves from her lap, putting them on like a petulant child.
"And say thank you," she snapped, slightly perturbed he hadn't taken back his jacket.
Bucky squinted his eyes, dropping down next to her. "You're acting like a real brat today."
"You're acting like a caveman! Now leave me alone so I can sleep in peace." She had turned away from Bucky, but when he offered no reply, she swallowed uneasily and looked back. His eyes glinted with mischief, hinting at his next step. "Bucky, no!"
She tried to stop him but was no match for his strength. Her world spun, and she found herself on his shoulder once again. Thankfully she stayed quiet this time, not bringing any extra attention toward them.
"I'll show you caveman." Bucky plopped her down in one of the smaller tents with space just enough for two, closing the flap behind him.
She steamed in forced fury, trying to take comfort in the fact that, pretty soon, she wouldn't have to put up with the infuriating soldier at all. She failed.
After a moment, when Bucky still hadn't moved from his hunched-over position at the front of the tent, the girl snapped at him. "What are you waiting for, Bucky? Come to bed!"
They both paused, processing the girl's words. "Come to bed." It was the first time she willingly called for him. She looked down, embarrassment creeping up her neck, unable to see the smile on Bucky's face.
Carefully, Bucky settled in behind her, embracing her with both arms, fitting her against him. When she began to squirm, he only had to issue a single warning before she relaxed. He sighed gratefully, not wanting a repeat of the past week where she slept oblivious while he tried to tamp down his arousal.
"This is nice," Bucky thought the girl muttered, though he couldn't be sure because she was already asleep.
"Yeah, this is really nice," Bucky whispered against her temple as blissful sleep overtook him.
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From a distance, the Italian alps were quite breathtaking. She imagined a cabin in the forest, high on the Dolomite mountains; this would be her view. Maybe she would move here one day—once the war was over—and ask Steve to join her. Steve didn't have anyone stopping him from leaving other than Bucky. Maybe Bucky could join too? She shook that thought away.
The Dolomites were far behind them now, and as they passed town after town, destroyed and abandoned, an unsettling feeling grew vigorous in her gut. They were close to the Austrian border, hugging the small villages and settlements as they got closer to their destination: Azzano.
They made camp as the sun set, supplying the perfect backdrop to a most tiresome journey. The girl slung her pack to the ground and stretched her muscles while waiting for Bucky to finish ordering the men around.
He offered her water when he finished, which she took gratefully. "Lieutenant General Allan Montgomery should be here within the week. We'll travel the rest of the way to Azzano together." Then Bucky's eyes downturned. "We're only a few miles away from the front line. Do you remember your training?" he asked, looking for hesitation.
Of course, by training, he was referring to the hour-long lesson she was given on battlefield defence, not that any of it stuck. She tried schooling her features, failing miserably. "Yes, I do." Her voice was strong and confident, though she felt anything but. "If we spot the enemy, I'm supposed to set up a station at a safe spot and wait for the injured there. They will be sent back if they are fit to fight. If not..." she trailed off, unable to stomach the fact. "But I won't let that happen," she promised.
Bucky looked at her pityingly, as if he knew something she did not. "Let's hope so. The rest of the 107th should be here in a couple of days with General McGinnis. They were right behind us, so—"
Bucky paused, looking behind the girl at the soldiers setting up camp, before shaking his head and continuing. "Are you tired? The sun's beginning to set."
The girl wrapped her arms around her shoulders and shook her head.
"What's wrong?" Bucky asked, immediately picking up on the girl's discomfort.
"Bucky..." she began hesitantly. "How long will you make me sleep with you?"
Bucky frowned. "Do you feel uncomfortable? I know I came across as an asshole, but I didn't want you to freeze to death. Sorry, we can stop."
Unable to respond immediately, the girl looked at him with barely concealed bewilderment. Apologizing; is another thing Bucky Barnes did not do. "No, I don't want to stop. It's just..." she trailed off, looking for the right word. "inappropriate, especially with the General joining us soon."
"No, it's not," he said matter of factly. "We're friends."
"Friends don't sleep together," the girl responded, unsure of what she wanted to hear him say.
Bucky waited until she looked him in the eyes. "We're the exception. Hey, they've got bigger matters to worry about than us sharing body heat. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Well, good."
An awkward silence fell between the pair, and the girl cleared her throat before the feeling could consume her. "The men look ready to fight," she observed, watching her surroundings.
Bucky ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, uh... I mentioned we're near the front lines, right? So we need to set up a perimeter and plan the best line of attack. Make sure we have a solid line of defence in case something happens. Hey, don't worry. We've got this." Bucky gave her shoulder a tiny shove.
"Oh," she huffed, "I am not worried."
"Yeah?" a smile lit his eyes. "Your face is telling me a different story."
She pursed her lips in frustration. "I'm not worried about you, Bucky," she snapped, "I'm worried about Steve. He needs his friend to come back home—in one piece—and now, I know you normally have no regard for your safety, but you have to be careful if you don't want to leave our friend alone in Brooklyn."
Bucky saw red. He pulled at his hair in frustration. It was unbelievable how quickly she was able to rile him up. "Are you kidding me? I'm the one with no regard for safety? In the time I've known you, you've almost died over five times. You can't even cross the street without putting yourself in danger! Hell! I'm still confused about how they let you in this damn war in the first place." He rushed his words, voicing his anger and annoyance. He only registered the last part of the girl's sentence when he took a deep breath.
"Why would Steve be all alone in Brooklyn?" he asked in a more even tone. "You're going to be there, and a few months later, I'll join... he won't be alone. Why would you say that?"
He froze at the look on her face. Guilt—In her eyes, in the way she held herself, oozing from her pores. Bucky could smell it. Bucky could even taste it. "What did you do?"
"I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you both sooner, but I only just decided and—"
"What. Did. You. Do?" Bucky grit out.
The girl took a deep breath. "I'm leaving. Moving to Canada. I already asked for a transfer—"
"Canada? Fucking Canada?"
"—Don't swear, please," she pleaded.
"This is some sick joke, right? Tell me you're joking." Bucky grabbed her forearms, forcing her to look him in the eyes.
"I'm sorry, Bucky, but I already applied for the transfer. I'm supposed to be moved to a different regiment when we get back to base."
There were many things the girl expected Bucky to say. She expected him to be happy that he was finally rid of her. Relieved she would be gone. She did not expect him to be hurt.
"Were you ever gonna say goodbye?"
"Bucky, I—"
"To Steve, to me. Were you ever going to tell me if I hadn't asked?"
No, she would not have. "Please, Bucky," she pleaded. "I don't want to leave you angry. For the sake of our past, let it go. We won't see each other again for a long time. Not until the war is over."
Bucky scoffed. "Phillips would never let that happen; he wouldn't let you leave. You're his favourite nurse."
She furrowed her brows in response. "I'm not Colonel Phillips' favourite nurse. He has no favourites."
"You're everyone's favourite nurse," he replied as if stating a fact.
"Liar!" she wanted to scream at him. She knew she was not his favourite.
"Not yours," she whispered, staring at him for a moment. "Lila Bellamy told me about the date you took her on. She said you turned a war zone into the most romantic place she'd ever seen. You brought her flowers, danced with her, and kissed her on the cheek once the night was over." She felt wetness gathering in her eyes. "You were the perfect gentleman."
When the first tear dropped, she didn't bother wiping it away. "When you return to base camp, please give Lila my regard. She was quite worried for me. Will you let her know I'm safe? She would be glad to hear from you, and I won't get to talk to her before I leave."
Bucky's grip on her shoulder tightened almost painfully, making her flinch. Through the hurt coursing in her body, she managed a feeble smile. "Try not to break her heart? You two look good together."
"No!" Bucky had had enough; he could hold his words in no longer. "There's nothing between Lila and me."
The girl shook her head. "You don't have to lie."
"Stop it!" Bucky exploded, shaking her. "Stop pushing me away. I don't want Lila; I never wanted her. I've only ever wanted you!"
"Bucky," the girl gasped.
"There's no way I'm letting you leave me, doll," he started, and there was that word she hated. "I'll take you over my shoulder if I have to, but you're not going to fucking Canada; because I love—"
Bucky never got to finish his sentence, never got to tell the girl how he felt because one of his worst nightmares was suddenly realized.
A bullet whizzed past them both—so close that the girl could smell the gunpowder in the wind, could feel its displacement through air against her cheek before it found a home in the soldier behind her. She screamed as she fell, Bucky's heavy weight shielding her body, keeping her down. Her world turned upside down, and she found herself on the cold ground with Bucky's grip on her arms tightened painfully.
To her right, the unfortunate soldier lay dead, with an 8-millimeter-sized hole in his head oozing a steady stream of thick blood. A wound meant for her.
The girl touched a hand to her cheek, which had suddenly warmed. It came back painted as red as the poppy fields back in Provence, France.
She began to tremble as shock overtook her.
Bucky swore under his breath, eyes wide as he took in their surroundings. Beneath him, the girl's eyes darkened in fear. She smeared the splatter of blood on her cheeks and stared at her fingers in horror.
"Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God." She kept muttering under her breath, eyes wide and lips quivering. "N-No. No. No. No."
All around Bucky, the soldiers ran, grabbing artillery and readying defences. "What the hell happened!?" he screamed. "We had a perimeter set up!" Underneath him, she shivered—out of shock or fear, he determined, rather than the cold.
"Those Nazi bastards were waiting to ambush us!" a voice shouted from amidst the chaos. "They knew we were coming!"
Another bullet whizzed past Bucky's head, embedding itself in the ground next to the girl's head. He jerked her away and swore. "Fuck!" She still trembled under him, muttering nonsense. He took her face in his hands, urging her to look at him. " Hey, darlin'? Doll, look at me."
Her eyes were glued to her shaky hands. "Oh God, no. No, I can't. I can't. I can't."
For a few seconds, Bucky froze above her—a few seconds too many—before his training kicked in. He needed to get her out of there. Bucky yanked her hands to the side and held her face in a bruising grip, forcing her to look at him.
"We're in a war zone right now." He said her name with fierce assurance. "The enemy isn't going to stop until we're all dead. I need you to remember the promise you made me this morning. You promised you wouldn't let anyone die—Hey!"
The girl tried peeking at the dead soldier beside her, but Bucky blocked her view.
"Don't look at him. Why are you looking at him? Look at me," he said. The girl whimpered, her eyes misting. "Look at me. That's not your fault."
She shook her head.
"—Hey! It's not. Those German bastards killed him, not you."
"That bullet was meant for me," she sobbed between breaths, "it should have hit me." The desperation in her voice cut him like a knife. He felt her fear as if it were his own.
"Don't you dare! Don't you fucking dare!" Under normal circumstances, Bucky would be concerned at the girl's lack of reaction to his cursing, but he had already spent too much time coddling her, and the men needed him. "I'm gonna go and avenge that soldier's death, darlin'," Buck shouted over the sound of battle. "I'm going to burn those Germans to the ground. I'm going to do my job, and you have to do yours."
She looked at him then, and Bucky exhaled gratefully at the clarity he saw in her eyes, hidden behind adrenaline and fear. She gave him a little nod and stifled her sobs. "I feel a little sick."
"Me too," said Bucky, hauling them both to their feet.
The second they were upright, Bucky yanked her behind a tree for cover against the onslaught of bullets raining down on them. "You have to run." He grabbed his rifle from behind his back and checked the ammunition.
"Bucky—"
"When I tell you to, I want you to run toward those trees over there," he pointed to a slight decline, where the trees were thicker and provided more cover, "and I want you to keep on running."
"Wait! No!"
"No matter what happens!" He would not look her in the eyes—Could not look her in the eyes. "You run until you reach the last marker—" Bucky took off his helmet and placed it on the girl's head, fastening it over her hat. "—about a mile and a half out—"
"Bucky, listen to me!"
But he would not listen to her. The girl kept calling him, but he ignored her. He knew his eyes would betray his fear if he did. And he knew that the terrified look that had most likely taken up residence on her face, would force him to lose the last of his sanity and carry her back to base. This war zone was the last place he wanted her.
"You stay there until someone comes for you, and you don't—"
"James!"
And there it was, that damned name. So absolutely dangerous when uttered by her lips. Time slowed for both of them as if the war had pressed pause. Sound faded, colours brightened, and for a few minuscule seconds Bucky and her existed in their own little world, where the blood on her hands was paint, and the look in his eyes was love and not fear.
Bucky looked down, expecting to see the girl hysterical and weeping. Instead, he saw something completely different. Her eyes were clear, the most they had been in weeks, terribly similar to the look she would get in camp when the life of a soldier was in her hands.
And when she spoke, there was determination in her voice. A promise. "You better come back in one piece for Steve." And he knew she meant, "be careful."
He blinked at her, once, then twice, ensuring there were no other hidden messages behind her words. "You better run fast." And she knew he meant, "I will."
The world around them came back into focus, and with a final tightening of her helmet, Bucky pushed her away, sending her running toward safety.
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Thump. Thump. Thump.
How much time had passed? She couldn't be sure. Her boot-clad feet were numb from being buried in the snow, and her back was sore from chafing against the rough bark of a pine tree.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
How much time had passed? The sun had long since disappeared under the horizon. In its stead was the moon, still as big and beautiful as the night before. Was it privy to all the horrors the girl wasn't? Did it frown over the violence and brutality it witnessed, or did the inhumanity of the act make it shine brighter?
Thump. Thump. Thump.
How much time had passed? Above her, a bird chirped loudly, disturbed by the gunfire that seemed to grow closer as the moon rose higher in the sky. An hour? Two? It certainly felt like more.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The girl placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart, patting her chest as a means to settle it. "It's okay," she whispered, afraid to voice her thoughts any louder. "It's okay."
She twisted her body around the thick trunk, peeking at the darkness beyond her hiding spot. Another jarring explosion, fake sounding and unreal, before the world quieted. Eerily so.
The bird above her stopped its music. The leaves stopped their little dance. The girl twisted fully, staring intently at the spot she had come running from before finding a temporary home against her tree. All felt normal—well, as normal as could be.
What was it that prompted her forward and on her feet? Bucky's instructions rang clear in her head. "You stay there until someone comes for you." No one was there for her, yet her feet began to move of their own volition. Perhaps at the persuasion of a greater force. Fear; she could taste it on her tongue.
Fear that made her keep going despite the ache in her limbs. Fear that numbed her skin against the sharp tendrils of wind cutting her face. Fear of the quiet. Of being alone. Of being without him.
"Bucky," her whisper echoed against the draught. "James," her heart bled through the frozen ground.
The stench hit her first. Her nose picked up on what her eyes could not. Rotting flesh, putrid and burnt. Sweat and vomit mixed in with the minerally dirt. Her tongue flared up next as copper permeated the rest of her senses, overwhelmingly strong. And the fear; she caught herself against a tree as it engulfed her, making her lose the contents of her stomach.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The girl was at the edge of the clearing, with the gruesome scene of battle right in front of her. Her eyes moved fleetingly across everything, afraid of what she might find. What was once the site of a lively campsite was now demolished in a mess of guts and spoils.
The earth had turned over to create trenches and hiding spots. Dead bodies and dismembered limbs were scattered across the ground, decorating it with a gruesome excuse for peace.
It was quiet. Too quiet. The calm before the storm.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
She spotted movement from the corner of her eye, followed by a low groan of pain.
James. Her heart lurched.
A head of blonde curls bobbed from behind a mountain of dirt. The girl reached behind her for her pack, realizing it lay abandoned on the battlefield. She spotted it twenty-something meters away to her right.
Her eyes squeezed shut. The girl wasn't sure if it was safe to venture out, but it was so quiet, and still, she reasoned the worst of it had passed. She made up her mind; first, the pack, then the wounded soldier.
With her arms pumping rhythmically, she ran. Five, ten, fifteen meters out. The girl skid to a stop, bending to grab the pack. Instead, cold metal kissed her temple, and she stopped breathing.
Her terror-stricken eyes met dilated blue ones. Her pack perched on the edge of what resembled a small trench, hidden from the rest of the clearing. Several soldiers sat hunched over, brandishing various weapons. Bucky Barnes lowered his rifle as gut-wrenching fear overtook his face. He shook his head vigorously, reaching up to grab her, but she stumbled back on her arms, clutching the pack to her chest.
The girl swallowed the sob threatening to spill over. Bucky was alive and safe, though a bit roughed up. She looked to her left at the blonde soldier immobilized by his injury, and Bucky followed her gaze. She noticed the moment it clicked for him, and she made her decision on the spot. She only hoped her eyes accurately portrayed her feelings.
Bucky's mouth opened in a silent scream of her name, and he leapt from his spot, tossing his weapon to the side. Andrew Eaton grabbed Bucky by the shoulders and yanked him back to safety. The girl took that opportunity to scramble to her feet. Behind her, Bucky's muffled shout echoed in her ears.
"He's okay," she reassured herself. "Bucky's okay."
The wounded soldier was lying on his front, eyes closed and motionless. She fell to her knees, placing two fingers against his windpipe. There, faint and irregular, an indistinct pulse was striving to intensify.
The soldier was alive. Good, she thought, I can work with that. His dog tags peeked from under his coat: Matthew Miles Davidson. Frantic hands ran over his body, feeling for a wound. Her hand came away wet, and she discovered his pants soaked with blood. Bracing herself on her knees, the girl rolled Matthew over with a groan.
"Sorry," she whispered when he moaned in anguish. "I'm sorry." Producing a pocket knife, she cut the fabric away from his right thigh, displaying his injury. Puckered skin oozed a steady flow of red, painting her hands. She laced her fingers together and pressed against the opening, using her entire weight to stop the blood.
The girl's thoughts were in overdrive, swiftly taking in and storing information. No exit wound, meaning the bullet was still inside. Matthew was faintly moving, his chest rising and falling with every breath. The girl decided she would remove the bullet, bandaging the wound before dragging him past the trees for cover.
However, over the adrenaline rushing through her ears, she did not realize another fight had broken out. Someone shouted from a distance, and the girl pulled away, unbuckling Matthew's belt and folding it in half. She needed to clean his wound, and since the morphine was in a different pack, with the rest of the medicine, Matthew was going to feel everything.
He was slightly more lucid now, staring at her, so she grabbed his face and urged him to listen. "Bite down on this, Matthew." And he obediently followed her direction.
"Good, you're doing very good." She ran a hand over his hair, cooing with a sad smile. "Don't make any noise, okay?"
The girl retrieved a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a large roll of bandages. She had tweezers in her pack for removing the shell, needle and thread for the other gashes. Those she kept in the kit and moved out of the way. Uncapping the rubbing alcohol, she liberally poured some over her hands to sanitize them before positioning the bottle over the laceration.
"This is going to hurt," she warned Matthew before tipping the bottle over.
The second the ethanol breached his wound, Matthew let out an ear-splitting scream, despite the sound being muffled by his belt. He writhed on the ground, body spasming in pain.
His groans of agony cloaked the racket of the fight around her, making it so she couldn't hear the tank powering up.
"You're okay, Matthew!" she cried.
From her right, someone screamed, and a solid form collided with her, tackling her to the ground. The night sky turned a light blue, flashing white for a brief moment, and the girl raised her head. In her spot, where she sat just a second ago, tending to Matthew's wounds, was air. No supplies, no pack, and no Matthew. The only evidence that something, or someone, had been there was the roll of bandages in her hand and the blackened earth outlining the shape of a body.
Looking to her saviour, she didn't know if she should be grateful or ungrateful that her life was spared.
"You're okay!" Bucky cried, roaming his hands over her body, feeling if she was alive and well. "Fuck! I told you to fucking stay there!" He craned his neck to witness his men steadily losing ground, unmatched by the enemy and their technology.
When Bucky turned toward the girl, the fear in his eyes left her paralyzed. Panic-stricken hands ripped at her clothes, and at first, she was too shocked to react, but as the feeling returned to her limbs, she protested against him.
Bucky smeared a handful of dirt over her face, covering her eyes and lips. She clawed at his chest, trying to stop him, but he forced her back. They were still on the ground, him on top of her, leaving her immobilized.
Then he grabbed the bandages and lifted her undershirt to wrap her chest. "Stop," she whimpered. "Bucky, stop."
He didn't listen.
"James," she pleaded.
And there was that damned name again. Bucky stopped, looking into her eyes to see his terrified form reflected back. "We're losing," he rasped.
No further explanation was needed when Bucky looked at her like that. The girl heard all he wanted to say, saw all he wanted to do, and felt all he begged to show. She relaxed her body, giving him all her trust, and let him do what he did best.
That night the moon witnessed the girl surrendering to Bucky Barnes. That night, he saved her.
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The air reeked of secretion. The girl didn't know why she found that detail so surprising. What else was a prison supposed to smell like if not human feces, fear and hopelessness?
She didn't remember the ride over. Shortly after surrendering, they were herded, like cattle, into armoured trucks. Masked men pulled her away from Bucky and tied her hands behind her back, shoving her into a separate truck.
The drive wasn't long, and in a few hours, they were stopping. When a guard pushed her and nine others into a dark cell, she fell to her knees and cried. Fortunately, Andrew Eaton was in the same cell as her, and he pulled the girl to him, muffling her sobs against his chest. Her high-pitched wailing was sure to catch someone's attention.
War was not kind to men, even less to young women. If they caught her, what would they do? She remembered the fear in Bucky's eyes as he frantically concealed the weight of her breasts, flattening them to resemble a man's. She decided she didn't want to find out.
The girl fell asleep in Andrew's arms wishing she was in Bucky's embrace instead. But Andrew was cold, and no matter how hard she tried, her imagination could not do Bucky justice.
In the morning, guards came for them. A burly-looking German soldier explained to her group in broken English that they were going to be put to work. Weapons manufacturing. "How does it feel?" he asked, "that we'll be killing your brothers with the weapons you make for us." They laughed amongst themselves, then pointed their guns at her and the prisoners, putting them to work.
Nights passed miserably. Andrew assured the girl Bucky was somewhere in the facility, in one of the cells scattered across the vast space, though that did little to calm her. She cried herself to sleep, body aching from the laborious work forced upon them.
By morning, the news spread. Men were being taken away.
A foul-faced officer was picking soldiers at random, plucking them away. "Hitler's right-hand man," someone sneered. "The devil incarnate," another cowered.
Andrew kept the girl tucked away against him, shielding her from wandering eyes. The dirt on her face had washed away, her hair loosened from her braid, bindings slack. She finally looked like a woman.
She saw the proof of it etched on Andrew's face when the guards came near. It was yet another night, and she was resting her head against the thick bars of the metal prison when she heard them. Andrew tried to hide her, but space was limited, and the devil's keen eye landed on her before she could move.
"What have we here?" A man with a drooping face and quizzical brow bent down to look at the girl. He grabbed her jaw in a rough grip through the bars when she attempted to crawl away. "Ah!" he exclaimed fervently, digging his nails into her skin until she whimpered. "A girl?"
His free hand went to her neck, dropping lower and lower until she protested, pushing him away. "No!"
The man raised a brow. "How did you manage to slip through, Mäuschen?" He gestured to the guards behind him, who marched forward to open the bars. "Let's find out, shall we?"
"Don't touch her, bastards!" Andrew shouted, pulling her back.
The girl wanted to stop him, but she became paralyzed with fear. The men had guns and long sticks—Andrew had nothing but his wits about him and a pair of worn fists.
The next few events happened in quick succession. A muscle in the devil's face twitched, his smile momentarily dropping, which he swiftly schooled. "Das Mäuschen has a protector? What a waste." He shrugged carelessly. "No matter. Always more where he came from."
A bang resounded, and Andrew fell backwards, eyes wide and unmoving. Someone screamed, loud and shrill. It wasn't until a guard whisked the girl away that she realized it was her screaming.
The prisoners shouted in protest as she passed by them. From amongst the hoard of fury, a pair of blue eyes met hers, two hands grasped cool metal, and two lips parted to call out her name. The girl craned her neck to look, but heavyset doors closed behind her before the voice could reach her ears.
She closed her eyes to block out her surroundings, and when she finally reopened them, it was the next day.
His name was Arnim Zola—Dr. Arnim Zola—and he was a scientist working for HYDRA. That's where they were held captive, the Doctor divulged, at one of the many facilities HYDRA owned across the continent.
The Doctor passionately described the importance of the work done at HYDRA while the girl was bound to an exam table. "How lucky that you will not only be alive to see HYDRA shine, but you will also take part in it." He checked the girl's pulse, jotting something down on a clipboard. "We lost many of the men. They all fight the effects. It will be interesting to see how a woman fares, don't you think?"
She was too tired to struggle, and when the Doctor injected a burning liquid in her veins, she found she was too tired to scream.
The world turned black.
When she came to, however long later, Dr. Zola was hunched over his desk, shuffling through papers while muttering under his breath. "How is this possible? I gave her a larger dose."
The burning had turned to ice in her veins, and she shook violently against her restraints as she shivered. "Please..."
"I don't understand. Are you sweating it off?" Then he hummed. "I will need more tests." And her world turned black once again.
How much time had passed? Days? Weeks? Months? The girl could not be sure of anything other than that the cold in her veins had found a home in her heart.
"Immune," she heard the Doctor repeat. "Nothing is working."
She was counting the marks on the wall of the tiny room she was locked in when Dr. Zola approached her one day. "Herr Schmidt wants me to dispose of you," he told her. "But I think you can serve us yet."
She turned away from him and closed her eyes, trying to ignore him.
"That prisoner. What was his name? The one who died protecting you?"
Andrew. The girl opened her eyes and looked at Dr. Zola with distrust.
"He made me wonder if the others would do the same."
"They won't," she told him, trying to hide her desperation. "I'm only a nurse."
Dr. Zola snickered mischievously, slowly backing out of the small room. "We will see about that."
That night they brought the first prisoner. Someone she did not recognize. "Do as I say, and the girl will remain unharmed."
He spat on Arnim Zola's face. "Go to hell, you son of a bitch!"
The Doctor wiped away the drool with a wry smile, gesturing to the soldiers holding the girl still. "No!" she managed to shout before they plunged her face into a bucket of ice water.
She held her breath at first, hoping to bide some time before they pulled her out, but as her heart raced and the grip on her arms tightened, she couldn't help it any longer. She began to thrash, shaking and sputtering as the water invaded her lungs.
After what felt like an eternity, she tasted fresh air, heaping lungfuls to ease the burn in her throat.
The prisoner thrashed against his restraints, screaming profanities into the air as Dr. Zola injected him with a blue substance.
"Stop resisting!" the Doctor demanded. "You'll ruin the transformation!" He turned toward the girl. "Do you want her to die?" he asked the prisoner. "They'll kill her."
The prisoner screamed louder.
"Again!" Dr. Zola ordered.
The girl managed to take a deep breath before they plunged her into the water again, not that it helped. The torture went on for the rest of the night. By the last hour, the prisoner had died, lying in a pool of vomit.
The next night they brought the second prisoner. Someone she did recognize. "Do as I say, and the girl will remain unharmed."
"Jeremy? No!" the girl began to cry. "No, not him!"
"Miss?" Jeremy looked at Dr. Zola with indignation. "Let her go."
"Do as I say," Zola repeated, "and I will."
"Go to hell."
And so it began.
Though, It did not last very long. When the girl screamed for the first time, Jeremy Bradshaw gave in. "I'll do it. I'll do anything. Just let the lady go."
Zola smiled victoriously. "Now, that wasn't so hard. Was it?"
A few hours later, Jeremey's heart gave out.
"He was weak," Zola proclaimed. "We need someone stronger."
The next night they brought the third prisoner. Someone she knew.
The girl had prepared herself this time. She wouldn't cry or scream out; she would fight! But none of it mattered when she saw the person standing before her.
War was not kind to men, and this one was proof of it. His hair was longer, touching the tips of his ears, and a light beard covered most of his face, making him almost unrecognizable. Almost. His piercing blue eyes stayed the same.
"James," she whispered. Tears gathered in her eyes, waiting for the moment he saw her.
"Do as I say, and the girl will remain unharmed."
Bucky screamed the moment he did, mouth open in rage. The girl wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Was she as haggard in appearance as him? She sure felt it.
Bucky threw the soldiers off him, shouting her name as he ran toward her. He came to a halt when someone put a gun to her head, and the soldiers took the opportunity to restrain him once again.
"Yes, you are strong, indeed. Now, will you do as I say?" Zola asked.
"Eat shit, cocksucker."
Bucky was being so strong. So could she.
When the soldiers grabbed the girl, she was ready. She kicked one of them between the legs, and when he loosened his hold, she bit the hand on her shoulder. She must have made it two steps before they restrained her again.
She heard the buzz before she could feel it, and an unbridled scream left her. Electricity travelled up her spine, burning a pathway through her nerves. Her muscles went lax, and she fell, convulsing on the cold floor.
"No," she whimpered as they administered another shock through a small black device. But they were unrelenting, kicking her half-conscious form while she was down.
Bucky roared in rage while they abused her, but he could do nothing but watch as they gave her another electric shock.
"I'll kill you sons of bitches! I'll fucking kill you!"
Zola injected Bucky with the blue liquid. "Relax your muscles! Let the transformation take over."
"Fuck. You!" Bucky seethed.
The girl crawled toward him from her position on the ground, dragging herself by her nails. The soldiers followed leisurely, laughing at her pathetic attempt. The next shock made her throw up. Bile and stomach acid; since she hadn't been able to keep anything else down.
"She'll die, Soldier," Zola warned Bucky. "There's only so much a person can take."
Bucky stopped thrashing, briefly looking at the girl before addressing the Doctor. "What will you do to her?" he asked, unconcerned for himself.
"Bucky, no."
"Will you hurt her?"
Zola smiled, knowing he had won. "As long as you do as I say, I promise she will remain unharmed."
The girl began to cry. "Don't give up, Bucky. I can take it."
"—No, she can't," Zola interrupted.
"James!"
Their eyes met, and the girl knew Bucky had made up his mind. "I'll do anything." He slumped against his restraints, giving over his control. Before the Soldiers dragged her away, Bucky mouthed three words that shattered her completely. "I love you."
The doors closed before she could mouth it back.
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Bucky Barnes was in shock. He had to be. That was the only reason he was on his feet after a week of hell, feeling only slightly bruised and fatigued. Yes, it was the shock that kept him moving, and not whatever it was the Doctor injected in him.
"Did it hurt?" Bucky asked, only slightly stumbling.
"A little," replied Steve Rogers. The same Steve Rogers Bucky remembered being at least two heads shorter.
"Is this permanent?" Bucky took in the striped shield, the muscles hidden by leather.
"So far."
Bucky chuckled, pressing his chest to feel his heart beating wildly within.
"The exit's through here," Steve gestured.
Bucky pulled him back. "Wait. I have to find someone first."
"Who?"
Bucky stared at his friend for a moment, hesitating. Steve didn't know the girl was with him. She never told anyone where she was deployed. Bucky whispered her name before clearing his throat and saying it louder.
He saw the surprise on Steve's face slowly morph into determination. "What are we waiting for, then? Let's get her."
They found her quickly. She was in an unmarked room on the second floor, hiding underneath a small blanket. Steve stayed behind, and Bucky entered the dark space with careful steps.
He heard the girl whimper in protest and scurry closer to the wall. "Not again. Please!"
Bucky bent down, and what he saw made him pause. He almost didn't recognize the girl with her sunken face and pale skin. She had lost weight, and her clothes were hanging off of her, but her eyes were what broke him. Wide and distrustful. Lifeless.
Bucky wiped his tears away, determined to stay strong. "Come here. I've got you."
The girl crawled farther away as if trying to embed herself in the wall. Bucky grabbed her face with both hands. "Look at me. Hey! Look at me, doll. It's Bucky."
She finally met his eyes, and Bucky saw the moment she recognized him. "James?" she sobbed, clutching his shirt in a weak grip. "You're here!"
Bucky lifted the girl in his arms, keeping her close to his chest. The first thing he noticed was how cold she was; the second was that she weighed almost nothing. When Bucky stumbled out, unsteady on his feet, Steve grabbed her from him, exchanging the shield for her. "Reserve your energy. We've got a long way to go."
"Steven? Am I dreaming?"
Steve laughed sadly. "No."
"You're big now," she sighed. "What happened?"
Steve shrugged. "I joined the army."
"I always knew you would."
They all laughed, happy for a moment that they were reunited. But danger was near, Bucky could feel it, and his smile dropped. Around them, parts of the building exploded, making the ground shake.
"Quick! Through here!" Steve shouted, taking two steps at a time, and Bucky tried his best to keep up. They were so close. He could feel it.
"Captain America!" A voice shouted, stopping them. "How exciting!"
Steve lowered the girl to her feet, grabbing his shield from Bucky and taking a fighting stance.
When Bucky realized who the strange voice belonged to, he pulled the girl behind him, shielding her from view. It was him, the man who dragged her away all those days ago. Bucky couldn't tell then, but it was apparent now that he was a high-ranking officer. Perhaps the mastermind behind this whole operation. Zola stood next to him, cowering behind a large briefcase.
"I am a great fan of your films!" mocked Johann Schmidt. "So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still, impressive."
Steve and Schmidt were at arm's length, and the Captain did not hesitate to swing at Schmidt. The man stumbled back, clutching his face in surprise.
"You've got no idea," Steve huffed.
"Haven't I?" And Schmidt took a swing of his own, putting a fist-sized dent in Captain America's shield.
"Steve!" The girl screamed from behind Bucky.
The two began to fight, and Bucky had to keep her from running toward their friend. "He's got it," he told her; and he did.
Steve kicked Schmidt, sending him back a few feet, and Zola stepped forward. He pressed a button that collapsed the bridge Steve was on.
"No matter what lies Erskine told you," Schmidt exclaimed. "You see, I was his greatest success!" He peeled the skin off his face, revealing red flesh underneath.
"You don't have one of those, do you?" Bucky found himself asking, a bit dizzy from the incident. He held the girl tighter against him when she started shaking like a leaf.
Schmidt made a closing remark that went over Bucky's head, and he and Zola left. An explosion caused the trio to stumble, forcing Steve into action. "Come on, let's go. Up."
Bucky pulled the girl along, and they went up a floor, stopping in front of a metal beam.
"Let's go. One at a time," Steve urged, helping Bucky over the railing.
"What are you doing?" the girl shouted over the loud explosions.
"There's no other way!" Bucky told her. "Stay behind me."
Steve helped her over the railing next, and Bucky grabbed her.
"I can't!" she shook. "I'll fall."
Bucky pulled her close. "Don't look down. Why are you looking down? Look at me."
"No!"
"Yes! One step at a time, alright? Steve's right behind you." The beam quaked with every step, but Bucky did not slow down. He tossed the girl over the railing and leaped the rest of the way; right before the beam fell from underneath him.
Bucky's stomach dropped. There was no way for Steve to cross. "There's gotta be a rope or something!"
"Just go!" Steve cried. "Get out of here!"
"No! Not without you!"
Steve hesitated before backing up as far as he could and making a run for it. Bucky's stomach dropped, thinking Steve wouldn't make it, but then he emerged from the smoke and landed safely on his feet. The trio ran.
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The half-moon was low in the sky when they made camp after two day's journey. It was late, and the prisoners were tired. Bucky made his rounds, checking the perimeter and the tents for anything suspicious.
The Battle of Azzanno was still fresh in his mind, and despite Steve's reassurances, Bucky could not let down his guard.
"How is she?" Steve asked Bucky.
Bucky didn't know the answer. "She won't talk to me," he said frustratedly. "She says she's fine, but I can see she isn't."
Steve sighed, having expected that answer. "And how are you?"
"Me?"
"Yeah. You both went through something traumatic." Steve grabbed Bucky's shoulder. "Talk it out, why don't you?" and left with a reassuring smile.
Bucky found the girl in one of the smaller tents, huddled in the corner for warmth.
"I was waiting for you," she admitted.
Bucky let a small smile grace his lips. They had come a long way. "Not too long, I hope."
"Very long," she rebutted. "I'm all cold."
Something in the girl's expression hinted at something deeper, something permanent. A rawness that she couldn't hide. It made Bucky's eyes burn. "Let me warm you up then." He fell to his knees and embraced her, holding her trembling body as tightly as he could.
The girl craned her neck and looked at Bucky with teary eyes. "Are you okay?"
Bucky took a second because he didn't know. Was he okay? He adjusted his hold until the girl was in his lap, snug against his front. "No, I'm not," he decided. "But as long as you're here, I will be."
Her hair was open, so Bucky put his forehead against the soft strands and closed his eyes. "Are you okay?"
The girl took a shuddering breath. "I—I was scared, and I—" She sobbed once, then twice. "No, I'm not okay!" And she began to weep. Agonizing sobs shook her entire body.
Bucky held on tight, whispering reassurances until, however long later, she eventually settled. "But I will be," she hiccuped.
The two sat silently for a while before she shifted to face him. Bucky wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her steady and caressed her face. "I love you," he whispered, leaning in until their noses brushed.
Her eyes pierced his, conveying all she felt, and she softened in his arms. "James."
And there was that damned name again. Bucky pulled her toward him, closing the small distance between their lips.
Oh, she was soft, putty under his skilled mouth. He groaned, pressing closer until the only thing separating them were clothes. "Sweetheart." He tasted her lips with his tongue, asking for permission which she swiftly granted.
"James," she whimpered against him, clawing at his jacket for purchase. They kissed until she became breathless, reluctantly pulling away with a moan to fill her lungs.
Bucky felt his heart beating out of his chest. "I'm here," he vowed, "I'm right here. Never leaving you again."
Her pleasure-stricken face met his with an intensity that left him more breathless than her lips had. "James, I love you."
And Bucky knew in his soul that all would be well. He took her lips once again, sealing his promise with a kiss.
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Comments and Reblogs are greatly appreciated!! 💜
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draguta · 2 days
Text
.just the way you are | two.
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pairing: dbf!bucky x fem!reader
summary: back home in brooklyn, job lost, dumped, unable to pay rent, and utterly ashamed of yourself. of course your dad had offered out your childhood bedroom, but what happens when you bump into his best friend once again, this time no longer the teenager that you were when you left?
chapter word count: 2522
series warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni, fingering, age gap (reader 24, bucky 39)
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Your night was restless, Bucky’s words bouncing around your head, keeping you awake and unable to sleep no matter how hard you tried. You tossed and turned, each new position only making you more frustrated until you finally flopped onto your back and stared up at the ceiling.
You knew he had been joking, he had to have been joking. There was no way he was serious - based on the tall, blonde girls he’d been with before, you knew you were his type, and even if you were, you were almost certain that he wouldn’t risk it with his best friend’s daughter. Your dad would never forgive him, or you for that matter, if anything actually happened between the two of you.
But what if he had been serious? What if he was in the spare room waiting for you right now? No, you wouldn’t go, you couldn’t. Because there was always the chance that he had just been teasing you, and if you showed up at his door in the middle of the night, then he would know how much you wanted him, and he would probably never let it go. Not to mention the fact that your dad was just on the other side of the wall.
But fuck did you want to go; how could you not? The thought of Bucky relentlessly fucking you into the mattress had been your sole fantasy for your entire teenage years, and you’d be lying if the thought of him hadn’t slipped into your mind a few times when you’d been with your ex-boyfriend. He was that one unattainable thing, always just a little out of reach, always standing behind a wall of obstacles, making it impossible for you to reach him.
You were hot, frustrated, and needy. Huffing, you slipped out of bed, padding across the carpet and into the hall, down the stairs and towards the kitchen. It was dark downstairs, but you didn’t dare turn on the light, not wanting to wake either of the men asleep upstairs. You grabbed a glass from the shelf and filled it with water from the tap, taking a sip as you sighed out.
“Can’t sleep?”
You spun around in surprise, almost spilling the water on the floor at your quick reflexes, only to find Bucky sitting at the island counter in the darkness, his own glass of water on the table in front of him. He rose to his feet and strolled towards you, coming to stop on the other side of the counter, leaning back against it. Your breath caught as you took in the sight of him, shirtless, toned abs on full display, now visible in the glimmer of moonlight that he had stepped into, a pair of your dad’s sweatpants low on his hips.
You couldn’t speak, your mouth immediately going dry despite the water that you had just drank. Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, waiting, but when he realised that you weren’t going to reply, he continued.
“I thought I told you to come to my room tonight,” he said, his voice low and rough, gravely almost, completely different from the light, joking tone that you were used to from him. “You know, I was waiting for you. I’m not a patient man.”
“I-I didn’t think you were serious,” you stammered, taking a step back and pressing yourself against the counter behind you. Bucky simply scoffed, pushing himself forward towards you, planting a hand on each side of you on the counter behind you, trapping you in place.
“I’m always serious when it comes to this.”
You blinked, genuinely unsure how to proceed. Your thighs were clenched tighter than they ever had been before, and you couldn’t help the slight whimper that escaped your lips at his close proximity.
“I thought you were just teasing me,” you said, your voice wobbly, something that Bucky didn’t miss. He smirked, tilting his head to one side, leaning closer to you, whispering his next words in your ear.
“Oh I wasn’t teasing you, sweetheart,” he whispered, bringing goosebumps to your skin. “But now I’m going to."
His hand moved from the counter to your cheek, stroking softly at your skin, an action that made your eyes flutter closed as you planted your glass of water on the table behind you. Shivers ran up your spine as his hand moved lower, tracing your jawline, down your neck and past your collarbones, down your ribcage, between your breasts, and coming to a stop at your abdomen.
“W-We shouldn’t be doing this Bucky,” you mumbled out, just as Bucky planted a kiss to your neck, the small gasp that you made sounding louder in the silence of the dark kitchen.
“Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispered against the sensitive skin on your neck, but you were already done for, and he knew that. He knew you weren’t going to tell him to stop, and that was why his hand slipped a little lower, cupping your heat in an action that made your head roll back. With only your sleeping shorts and panties between you, you were certain he could feel the damp patch that had been growing there all night as you thought about him. He pressed the heel of his hand into you, pushing down directly on your bundle of nerves, and you moaned, loudly. “Don’t know how you expected me to stay away from you when you look this good. I’ve been wanting to touch you all day.”
His hand circled, once, twice, three times, just as your head leant forward to lean on his shoulder. He slid it upwards so that his index and middle finger would directly on your bud, building up speed, enough that it only took a few seconds for the coil to begin building in your lower stomach.
“P-Please don’t stop,” you whimpered against his shoulder as his circles grew faster and more deliberate. This was a man that knew what he was doing, that was bringing you so close to finishing by barely touching you.
And then, just as you heard the patter of footsteps on the stairs and the hall light switch on, he pulled his hand away. You whimpered at the loss, left high but certainly not dry, so close, yet with your bliss taken away from you.
“Now I’m teasing you,” he whispered before moving away from you entirely, just as your dad wandered into the kitchen. He paused when he saw you and Bucky, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
“What are you two doing down here in the dark?” He asked, glancing between you both.
“Water,” you and Bucky said at the same time. Your dad shrugged, turning on the light and moving to grab a glass from the shelf, standing beside you to fill his glass at the sink.
“Are you ok, honey?” He asked as he took a sip, looking at you with a frown. “You look a little flushed.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you rushed out quickly, not missing the little chuckle that Bucky gave out. “Just struggling to sleep, but I’m going to head to bed now and try again.”
“Alright honey,” your dad said with an understanding nod. “Goodnight.”
You rushed back up to your room, your mind reeling as you slid back under the covers. That had been the last thing you had expected to happen when you went down for water; it was dangerous, risky, but you couldn’t deny the fact that you had enjoyed it. If only he had brought you to release. He really had been teasing you, and it occurred to you that perhaps that had been his plan from the very second he had pinned you against the counter.
You quickly slipped a hand into your shorts, bringing yourself up and over the edge finally, imagining it was still his fingers, not yours, a whisper of Bucky’s name falling from your lips as you came.
If there was one thing you were certain of it was that your dreams were going to be filled with Bucky that night.
And of that, you were correct.
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You woke late the next morning, quickly hopping in the shower and getting dressed, rushing downstairs in the hopes of seeing Bucky again. But when you arrived in the kitchen the only person you found was your dad, brewing a pot of coffee, with a bowl of cereal in one hand. He was already dressed for work, beaming at you as you wandered in.
“Coffee?” He asked, and when you nodded he poured you a cup and passed it to you as you sat down at the island counter. Your eyes drifted to the spot of the counter next to the sink, to the place where Bucky had left you wanting more the night before. Your mind flashed back to his hands on you, to his words whispered against your skin.
“Where’s Bucky?” You asked, shaking the thoughts away, curious to know the answer, but trying to play it cool, taking a sip of your coffee.
“He left early this morning, said he had some reports to finish up before work today,” your dad explained, unquestioningly. “What are your plans for today?”
You shrugged; honestly you didn’t have any plans at all, besides perhaps beginning the search for a new job, maybe reaching out to some of your old friends in the city.
“Well, try and get out of the house today, I think it’ll do you some good,” he took another bite of food as he spoke, checking his watch and swearing under his breath when he saw the time, throwing his dishes into the sink and rushing to grab his jacket and briefcase. He planted a gentle kiss on your head, mumbling something about being late for his meeting, and rushed out of the door, leaving you alone.
You did end up texting your old friends, but none of them were available for lunch. Yelena, your old best friend from high school, seemed excited to hear from you however, and the pair of you agreed to grab a coffee later in the week.
Opening your laptop you began scrolling through job openings in the city; there wasn’t really anything that caught your eye. You applied for a couple of jobs at companies in Manhattan, but each of them were below your position.
That was when your phone vibrated on the table beside you, and glancing down at the screen you saw that it was a message from Bucky. You weren’t able to hide the smile that spread across your face, thankful that there was no one around to see it and grow suspicious.
Bucky: Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all day.
You chuckled, quickly typing out a reply. You knew that it was risky to be messaging him like this, knowing that he was at work, only metres away from your dad’s desk at all times, but you couldn’t help it. The thrill that you got from that first message was enough to push you to reply, and to hope that he would keep messaging, despite the risk.
You: Me too. I was looking for you when I woke up this morning.
You returned to your computer screen, beginning to scroll through possible work-from-home options, but you weren’t really focusing, impatiently waiting for that buzz of your phone that told you that he had replied.
Bucky: I wonder what daddy would say if he knew the thoughts I was having about his daughter.
There it was again, that subconscious clench of your thighs at the thought, that little damp patch appearing in the material of your panties. The way that your body reacted to him was almost incorrigible, as if he could make you do anything with just his words.
You began to type, but another message came through before you had the chance.
Bucky: If you’re good, I’ll give you what you want.
You raised an eyebrow; you knew what you wanted, but you wanted - no, needed - for him to say the words. You needed to know that he wanted the same thing, that this wasn’t some silly little game, where he would flirt with you and then drop you as if you were nothing. You wanted to go the whole way, and you needed to be sure he wanted the same thing.
You: And what’s that?
A pause, your heart beating rapidly, your throat dry as you stared at the three little dots on the screen, indicating that he was typing.
Bucky: I’ll ruin you.
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The day passed by quickly, and the texting had been none-stop. It was constant, every minute, never ending, and you loved it. The longer the two of you spoke, the dirtier the messages became, and you’d found yourself sliding a hand into your panties to relieve the pressure on more than one occasion that day.
That afternoon, as you sat waiting for the next message from Bucky, your dad got home from work, and you heard his voice echoing through the hallway.
“It’ll just be a short trip, just the weekend I think. I just need to make sure this partnership goes smoothly, and I can do that better in person,” you heard his voice, and you paused, sliding your phone into your pocket and turning around, craning yourself over the back of the couch to see who he was talking to. “I’d just appreciate someone checking in on her while I’m away.”
“Don’t worry.” Bucky; you would recognize that voice anywhere. “I’ve got it.”
A moment later your dad appeared in the living room doorway, Bucky close behind him. Your dad beamed when he saw you, throwing his briefcase onto the chair and shrugging off his jacket. Bucky, on the other hand, wasn’t dressed for work, his suit jacket and tie already discarded, leaving him in a crisp white shirt, unbutton slightly at the top.
“What’s this I hear about a trip?” You asked, looking to your dad with a frown as he straightened up and turned to you.
“I have to head to San Francisco tonight to meet with our possible new partners,” your dad explained. “I probably won’t be back until Monday at the earliest.”
“So you’re going to be gone for the rest of the week?” You asked, your eyes flicking to Bucky who was hovering behind your dad, his eyes trained on you.
“Unfortunately, sorry honey,” your dad apologised as he headed to the door. “But Bucky said he’ll come and check on you while I’m gone, right Buck?”
Bucky, eyes trained on yours, smirked as he replied, throwing you a quick wink, one that you prayed your dad hadn’t caught. “Yep, I will,” he said, his voice low. “And I’ll do my best to keep her entertained while you’re away.”
You waited patiently as your dad packed his bag, kissed your forehead, and him and Bucky left for the airport.
But you knew for sure that the next few days were going to be more than a little eventful.
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147 notes · View notes
cherryredmurdock · 1 day
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For the fur babies-B.B.
DON’T STEAL, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE MY STUFF!!!!
a/n- Please like, comment, and reblog!!!
Summary: Bucky has to dog sit your dog for you for a few days, and he’s not too fond of the four legged creatures. He really only likes cats, and he’s…dare he admit it, a little scared of dogs. But he’ll do anything for you, his pretty neighbor, his beautiful friend who he wishes were more than just a friend. Requested!
Warnings n stuff: 18+, neighbor!bucky, female!reader, fluff, mutual pinning, mentions of pregnancy and dilation, pet names: doll, dollface, nothing much else. Just really fluffy and cute:) WC: 2.7k+
All mistakes within this fic are my own!!!
Do not read or interact(with this post, any posts, or my blogs) if you’re under 18!!!
NO LONGER DOING TAG LISTS!! FOLLOW & TURN ON NOTIFS FOR MY LIBRARY, WHICH IS @cherryredmurdock-library TO GET MY UPDATES!!!
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“I promise it’s just for a few days. She won’t be a problem, Bucky.” You talk fast as you pack a bag, your flight to leave is in an hour. “Please!? Please just….a few days like I said! I promise. I’ll even pay you, I’ll watch Alpine….whatever you want!” “I’m not much of a dog person, doll…how big is this thing anyways?” You huff out at Bucky as you pause what you’re doing and roll your eyes, “her name is Lilith! Don’t you dare call her a thing!!” You say before you rush to the bathroom and put Bucky on speaker to start getting ready.
“Okay okay, sorry. Lilith. You promise she’s not aggressive?” “She’s the sweetest girl in the world.” You tell Bucky before brushing your teeth, washing your face and then doing something quick to your hair. You then gather your beauty items and hygiene things and stuff them into a small bag. “Please? My sister….she’s having her baby Bucky….i just need a few days. Lilith’s really good with cats! Maybe Alpine and her will get along!” You suggest before you go back to your bed and zip all of your bags up, then you slip on some sweat pants and a hoodie.
You hear Bucky sigh, and you already know he’s caved in. “Can’t say no to you, doll.” “Thank you Bucky!!! Just walk her a few times a day so she can use the potty, and feed her once a day around dinner time, treats are okay too, are you writing this- ouch!! Are you writing this down??” You ask, slightly out of breath from trying to tug your shoes on, and your nail got hung in the process. You hear him chuckle, “yes I am…” “Good! Uh….oh!! Her and Alpine can have play time! Any food that’s here you can help yourself to if you wanna, and if she happens to run out of dog food, I’ll send you some money to pay for it. If you have any questions you have my number. Thank you, thank you so much Bucky. I’ll repay you, I swear.” “Don’t have to, doll….just don’t miss that flight.” He chuckles before you quickly hang up the call after another minute or so.
You rush from your apartment after telling Lilith goodbye and that Bucky will be by to check on her soon. You told Bucky on the phone where the spare key is outside of the door, and make a small note for him just in case he forgets anything, lay it on the counter, and then you’re gone. Bucky can’t help but find slight amusement in your rushing while you two were on the phone. He thought you’d be smarter than to not wait to pack a bag when your sister is nearing her due date. He knew you’d told him about a month ago she was wanting you there and that he might have to dog sit for you, but he didn’t think it would happen so fast. But apparently, as you told him earlier, she’s delivering a little earlier than expected, and so you have to go. It’s not that Bucky doesn’t mind, he’s just….he’s not the biggest dog person. He’s not…scared of them, that’s what he would say anyways, he just really doesn’t like the barking and how…mean some of them look. Maybe he’s gotten chased by a few on missions. Maybe. He won’t admit it though. But he’ll do pretty much anything for you, and if that means dog sitting your probably big, scary dog, then he’ll do it. Because he needs any excuse he can to spend time with you AND help you out so he can form a closer bond with you.
And you on the other hand, rushing to the plane minutes before take off, get settled in just in time. You text Bucky, ‘thank you again! Just take her out in about a couple of hours please:) text me if there are any issues and I’ll send you the number to her vets office!! Definitely owe you a coffee after this;)’ and you send it. You definitely need an excuse to take Bucky out again. Even if the first couple of times were his doings. He took you out to lunch for watching Alpine for two days while he was gone, and then he took you to a movie you’d really been wanting to see after you cleaned his place up for him when he was not expecting some friends over and he was grocery shopping and had no time to prepare. So of course you helped him!!! The place wasn’t even that dirty, just some clothes in his room laying on a chair, the shower needed cleaning, and the kitchen had a few dishes in the sink. Bucky is typically a clean man, doesn’t like clutter, so to say it wasn’t that messy was shocking to you. It was definitely a change from the past guys you’ve dated. Bucky….god you wish you would have the guts to ask him for coffee without it being like…a return the favor type of thing. The many times he’s wanted to fucking ask you out to dinner have been endless too!! He’s just kind of worried about rejection, and you are as well.
Bucky sits in his bed, unable to sleep. It’s nearing 5am, you’ve only been gone for a little over an hour or so He huffs out and decides to just get up and start some coffee. He’s kind of nervous to see your dog. I mean…he’s not really nervous about many things other than stuff relating to you. You make him nervous in the best way possible. You soften his hardened exterior, and he smiles at that thought- from how far he’s come since meeting you.
He gets your message and replies with, ‘no problem doll! But I’ll definitely take you up on that coffee date!’ He sends it without thinking, and when he rereads the message he- did I really just say COFFEE DATE!!?? “Bucky you’re a fucking idiot!!” He face palms himself before he shakes his head and starts his coffee maker up.
He figures you won’t answer for a bit since you’ll sleep on the flight, and honestly that’s for the best since he just assumed it was a “date” and not just ‘two friends getting coffee with each other’. He huffs out at himself again before he grabs a big coffee mug, setting it down onto the counter and then goes to change.
After Bucky has had his coffee and some eggs with toast, he decides that it’s time for him to finally meet Lilith. Come to think of it, Bucky doesn’t really hear much barking come from your apartment. It’s mainly the downstairs neighbors that he hears, their dog is loud. So either your dog is old and quiet, or….he’s not so sure.
You text him just as he’s about to head out of the door, you must be awake. ‘Always, buck;) talk later’. Thankfully you don’t seem to mind much, and that relieves his stress, so with that, Bucky feels a whole lot better that you don’t seem too turned off by the idea of it being a date. But of course….he wants to actually ask you.
Bucky then grabs his keys and phone before he leaves his apartment, and he locks the door up. He then steps over to yours and with a stable left hand, but slightly shaky right, he uses the key that’s taped to the bottom of the mat outside, and opens the door. He’s cautious, ears listening very carefully as he steps in and then closes the door. “Lilith???” He calls out, eyes looking around as if the dog will come out from hiding and attack him. “It’s Bucky!! Your momma sent me here to check on you.” He says again before he steps further into your apartment. He then hears the scurrying of nails on the hardwood floor and Bucky’s eyes are quick to dart around and he can tell it’s coming from your room. Then he hears a bark, but…it doesn’t sound like a big dog. Lilith then comes around the corner and barks again, tail wagging as she pants a little while looking up at Bucky. He looks down in shock, his brows raising as he takes in the small dog. “Lilith??” He asks as if the dog will actually speak to him, and to his surprise the dog yips. “Okay…well this is a shocker.” He chuckles before he crouches down and extends his right hand for her to sniff. She immediately comes over and licks his fingers before she nudges against his knee and then her front paws are up and onto his thigh, asking to be held almost. “Oh…you’re sweet.” Bucky smiles before he picks her up and stands up, cuddling her into his arms. “This isn’t so bad….you’re just a sweetie!” He chuckles in slight baby talk to Lilith and she yips before licking his cheek. “Okay okay slow down….we just met, and I’m not sure if you even like me. You might try and bite me later.” Bucky boops her nose before he grabs her leash and attaches it to her collar before he goes to walk her out.
It’s like that for the whole day. He’ll text you how she’s doing and ask how your sister is, and every few hours he’ll walk Lilith. He stays with her for a couple of hours and ends up playing fetch, since she’s not a big dog it’s easier for her to do without knocking into things or making a mess. Then he heads back to his place and spends some time with Alpine, who doesn’t seem to mind the scent of Lilith on Bucky all that much.
Then around lunch, Bucky fixes him some food and takes a nap since he didn’t get to sleep much last night. Around three, he heads back to check on Lilith and he takes her back outside along with changing her water afterwards. You call him while he’s there. “Hi Buck!!” You say cheerfully through the phone, and Bucky can’t help but smile at the sound of your voice. “Hey doll, how’s things?” “My sister is good! Well, as good as she can be. She’s almost there, they’ll think she’ll go into full dilation in another hour or two. How’s things there??” You ask as you stand outside in the waiting room. You just had to call Bucky to see how he’s doing, you miss him. “Is Lilith being the best girl??” He chuckles at that, “yeah she’s being real good! I- I do have to say I was a little nervous. I thought she’d be a big dog considering her name.” You laugh, “aw Buck!!! Nooo!! She’s a sweet, tiny girl! Kinda like a mop, but…she’s so sweet!” You say softly before you bite your bottom lip as you hear Bucky's low chuckle. God you miss him so much already.
“Yeah I can see that now.” He replies, his left hand softly scratching Lilith’s head as she rests on the couch beside him. “Hey uh….doll?” Bucky takes a breath, licking his lips as he looks around your place. It’s so homey and comforting. “You uh-.” “Oh god, I’m sorry Bucky!! I’ll text you later okay?? Her husband is freaking out again. I’ll talk later, I miss you!!” You say in a rush before hanging up. Bucky mentally curses at himself for not just spitting out his question. He hopes to finally take you out on a date when you get back home, but looks like he’ll have to wait even longer.
The next couple of days are the same routine. Sleep, eat breakfast, walk Lilith, play fetch, go home, see alpine, watch tv, have lunch, text you throughout the day, then take Lilith out again, feed her, give her fresh water, then stay at your place for a while before going back to his. Bucky would walk Lilith for a little bit at dark, and then come back to get her settled for bed.
The last day of dog sitting, he hasn’t heard from you. It’s a little after lunch and he’s texted you multiple times. He’s brought Alpine over and she and Lilith are having a ball. They’re playing, running around, and then they’ll take a small break in Bucky’s lap where they each get attention from him while he watches tv.
He’s so caught up in the show while they run around and play, that he doesn’t hear the door unlock and you come stumbling in. “Well look at this!!” You say with a huge smile before you shut and lock the door, your bags plopping to the floor nearly startling Bucky. Lilith yips and runs over to you, Alpine meowing when her new friend leaves her, but soon enough Alpine comes over to you while you’re giving Lilith pets. “Hi you two!! I see you’re getting along well!” You say in a soft tone, happy to see your baby and alpine.
Bucky then gets up and comes over, a smile on his face as he does. He’s got his shoes off, and he’s not wearing a jacket. He’s in just some sweats and a shirt and he looks beautiful and cozy, and warm. “Hey doll, ya had me worried.” He says, and you finally stop crouching and walk over to him, smile on your face as you wrap your arms around his torso. “Hi Bucky!! I missed you! Sorry I had you worried. Forgot to turn my ringer back on and I was on the flight at like…6AM.” You chuckle a little before you tilt your head up and look at him. Bucky’s arms are around your waist, and he’s never been so happy to see you in his life! “It’s okay, just got worried. Figured you were coming back today, because you said so.” He laughs before he leans down and kisses your forehead which takes you both by surprise, and your fur babies both stand by your sides as the awkward moment has you both letting heat take over your faces. “Oh uh….shit I’m sorry I-.” “No! It’s okay! Really….I- don’t worry.” You reply, your face hot and hands suddenly clammy.
Bucky clears his throat and swallows, “uh well…I did want to ask a question.” He says with a nervous smile and you laugh a little before placing your hands on his chest. “What would that be, Buck??” Bucky takes a breath before he stares at the wall behind your hand and he tries to gather his courage. “I was trying to ask you this the other day on the phone but I guess it was just really really bad timing.” He chuckles before he finally looks back down at you, and he can’t help how his face softens at how your brows are furrowed and face is in a confused expression. “I….I would love to take you out to dinner if you’d let me. Or we could go do coffee like we had already planned but like maybe we could go do some downtown looking around or go to the park, something?” He rambles off before he swallows thickly, his teeth taking his bottom lip in between them. “So..?” “So…?” He hums back after you. “You’re wanting us to go out on a date…?” You ask, a small smile on your lips as you look up at him. “Yes! I- that’s what I’m wanting. Especially since our kids get along now, I think it’s only right that their parents get along don't you?” Bucky winks before you giggle, and the sound makes his heart nearly burst from how cute it is. “I’d love to, Bucky. Definitely think us, the parents, should get along for the sake of our babies. We deserve to have some fun too!” You say before kissing his jaw and then resting your head on his chest. “But for now, I’m exhausted. Can the date wait until tomorrow??” You ask in a soft tone as Bucky starts to sway you two back and forth, Alpine and Lilith now off playing somewhere else again. “Sure, dollface. It can wait until tomorrow. Gives me even more time to plan.” Bucky hums before he lifts you up to take you to your room so you can sleep, a huge smile on his face as he does so.
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119 notes · View notes
marnle · 13 hours
Text
My sweet, sweet Dove - Mafia!Bucky x Fem!reader
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Summary - Bucky Barnes finds the peace he so rightfully craves in his best friend, the worlds upon his shoulders, yet his lust for you lives on through his darkest of days.
Warnings - smutttt, juicy af, mentions of violence, grinding etc.
A/n - Hi all, my requests are open! I’ve never really published my works before, so this is all new to me, but feel free to drop a request, and I’d love to see what I can do! :)
Enjoy, safe reading! <3
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You sauntered into the kitchen, it was incredibly dark, yet a small lamp situated in the corner illuminated the majority of the room, drowning it in a blanket of rusty amber. You grabbed a small glass and walked towards the sink, filling it with cold water, it swirled around the glass as though it were a prisoner, fighting against its confines. You propped yourself up on the marble countertop, it was icy underneath you, a considerable difference to the heat that burned underneath your skin and through your veins. The deep, angered and somewhat laboured voices that previously echoed through the halls had silenced. They’d swirled through the walls, up the stairs, and burst through the windows too. Bucky had informed you that he was working late, you’d understood what he’d meant, yet the scale of debate that evidently had occurred left you feeling drained - and you hadn’t even been in the room.
Bucky was one of your closest friends, your main confidant in the times you needed him most. So when you informed him that you had nowhere to stay, he practically offered his whole life to you, and you took it with his blue eyes piercing what felt like your soul. So you resided in his main estate where he conducted his official work, his official business meetings, you knew he was dirty, and downright inequitable, but his loyalty was unlike any other, your friendship was unlike any other, and you owed him the world and more.
So as you sipped your water, and pondered the evident lack of sleep that laced your features, you didn’t hear his office door finally open after hours, or the trudge of his tired feet upon the dark wooden floor approaching, the leather of their seams making the slightest of noises.
His black silk tie sat loosely around his neck, his mountainous shoulders were tightly winded practically up to his ears, the top buttons of his previously pristine shirt were undone, and said shirt was hanging messily out of his slacks, of which sat loosely on his hips, his brunette hair was unkempt, almost spikey as the last of the gel he’d previously put in began to finally wear away.
“Doll? You alright?” He asked, snapping you out of your trance, he moved opposite to you and plopped himself shakily down on the floor with a large sigh, leaning against the kitchen cupboards behind him, his head thrown back in a show of exhaustion.
You simply hummed.
“Why are you still up?” He queried, running his large hand through his hair, absolutely destroying any remnants of orderliness it previously had maintained. Glaring at the girl in front of him almost alarmingly.
“Couldn’t sleep is all.” You replied, taking another small sip from your glass before handing it downwards towards Bucky. He accepted it, and pulled out a metallic flask, pouring a brown liquid into the mix, swirling it, then drinking it. It burned the back of his throat and warmed him from the inside out. He looked at you curiously, his oceanic eyes bore into yours in order to gauge a reaction. It was silent as you returned his eye contact, you were sure you could hear a pin drop.
“Well, hand it over.” you laughed nervously, taking a gulp of the alcoholic beverage. It also burned your throat, causing your face to scrunch up in disgust. You could hear the deep rumble of Bucky's laughter in the background, it sounded angelic to your ears.
“Bad night?” You asked, anxiously pinching the skin of your fingers as you awaited his reply, not wanting him to ever suffer at the slightest. You observed the way his jaw slightly clenched and went slack, how he breathed slightly faster at such, and slowly regained his composure not a moment after.
“Something like that Doll.” he replied, letting out yet another sigh. In complete honesty, the meeting was a mess, his business partner had backed out of a paramount deal, meaning he’d have to find a backup as soon as possible, something that wasn’t likely. This left him open to financial attacks elsewhere. He’d even lost his temper, covering his golden signet ring that sat dormant on his finger in a layer of carmine; the ring you twirled when you felt anxious. His business partner had messed up his ring, his new enemy had messed up your ring, and Bucky had made sure he paid for it.
“Is there something I could do to make you feel any better?”.
He subtly nodded, allowing his stoic exterior only to fall in your presence, something that exhausted him beyond words.
He kneeled and shuffled towards you whilst you sat upon the counter, arms open, knowing exactly what he needed. He pushed his head into your stomach, breathing in your scent, roses and fresh linen, it made him feel safe. His was sandalwood, it engulfed your scenes and knocked the wind out of your chest, just like it always did.
You placed your hand upon his head, stroking your fingers through his hair as you felt the tension leave his large body, you leaned down and placed a small kiss on the crown of his head.
This caused him to gaze up at you, a longing in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, and you were sure yours mirrored them as such.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” You whispered at a barely audible level, you could feel his warm breath against your skin.
“Like what?” he replied, his voice breathy and almost desperate.
Your hands moved down from his hair towards his chin, cupping his face as though he was the last living being on earth. Your eyes fluttered between his lips and his eyes, the room was spinning, the air was thick.
“Like this.” you whispered before slowly bringing his face to yours, and placing your smooth lips over his own.
Bucky felt as though his world had stopped, his heart was erratically beating, his head didn’t feel as though it was his own, his body wasn’t his own. The tension had been snapped just as quickly as it arised, and Bucky felt as though he was on cloud nine, there and then he decided that the feel of your lips against his own was the singular most effective high he’d ever encountered, it was a high he was now addicted to, and one he’d never ever let go.
He stilled in your grasp, causing you to pull away.
“Bucky, I’m so sorry.” You muttered, a wave of red covered your cheeks, horrified at what you’d just done. Yet before your brain could sabotage you further, and convince you otherwise, Bucky slammed his lips onto yours, grasping the back of your neck in his large hands. He groaned at the taste of you, a sweetness he’d only ever imagined.
He pushed into your mouth, your teeth collided in a show of desperation and finally requited lust. You slid your hand into his brown hair once again, yet under completely different circumstances.
You grasped his hair, pulling him off of your lips, it made him groan.
“Tell me you don’t want this, tell me you don't Bucky.”
“You know I can’t.”
He picked you up, wrapping his large arms around your torso, his fingers pushed under your shirt, drawing circles upon your skin, skin of which felt as though it were a juvenile flame of the sun.
You tucked your face into the crevice of his neck, his scent was the strongest it had ever been, it blinded you, and you loved it. You dragged your lips across his neck, biting and nipping at whatever skin you could, making his groans rougher, whinier.
He’d walked you both into the living room where he dropped backwards onto the couch, you in his arms. You were sitting in his lap, he was so extremely hard under you that you couldn’t help but tease.
You slowly rolled your hips, the friction causing you both to moan in unison, in pleasure. He grasped your body as though you were his life line, and even though he hadn’t said as such, you both knew it was true for the both of you.
You continued to grind against him, you moved against each other as though you were made for each other. Your moans were beautiful, they made him lose his mind, his great intelligent mind reduced to nothing simply by your presence alone. His hands grabbed your hips for a moment, your face was directly in front of his, you inhaled his breath as though it were your last.
“Doll, I can’t last long like this.” He moaned, more like a whine, in an attempt to keep his composure.
“I bet.” you replied, causing his mouth to fall even further open in a state of disbelief, allowing you to sink your teeth into his lip, stealing even more of his sacred breath away.
Instead of slowing down you sped up, with Bucky’s hands gripping your waist so tightly, you were sure his touch was to be ingrained upon your soul. He ran his hand down towards where you longed for him most, and cupped your pussy, pushing his palm into your clit, causing you to let out a moan that echoed off of the walls, a moan he was sure he’d never forget. He ran his other hand up your body towards your nipple, and twirled it between his fingers, swapping between the two, making you feel as though you were atop of the world. The sight of you was enough for him to come right there, yet he’d only ever imagined this moment, and wanted, no, needed to drag it out for as long as possible, as long as he humanely could.
“Come on baby, let go for me.” He purred, gazing into your eyes as yours fought to stay open.
“Shh, that’s my Doll, let go love.” And you did, your body arched into his grasp, he pushed his palm even further into your clit as you came, creating such delicious pressure, you thought you were going to burst. You wrapped your arms around his body, engulfing him and curling into him to fit his form as though you were perfectly moulded to him as he came too, groaning and bucking his hips whilst his stomach and glistening abs contracted over and over again, he’d entirely lost control, the lust he felt wasn’t matched by another soul.
Your sweaty bodies sat wrapped around each other, breathy whimpers left the both of you as you fought your natural instincts to breathe. Bucky grasped your face, and silently laughed as he brought his lips to yours once again.
“My sweet, sweet Dove, how you’ve had me forever.”
————
Fanx 4 reading bros :)
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Little Moments Like This- Part 1
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Main Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Other Pairings: Natasha x F!Reader, Tony x F!Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader
Summary: This is the first of many moments where Bucky and Y/Ns feelings for each other took place of trying to be tough.
Word Count: 3.3k+
Warnings: Alcohol use, language, fluff dude, slight PTSD
A/N: This was a fic that I originally hated. But thanks to endless support from @chrisevansdaughter and many more, I felt comfortable enough to completely change the foundation of the story and I am now in love with what I wrote. I’m sorry to all who read the first time I tried to post this, I’m confident now and this one will stay up (I promise).
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Everywhere you turned there was a new face, another set of eyes staring you down like the barrel of a gun. It was hard to breathe in the crowded room, hard to see straight. There were hundreds of voices echoing in your ears and your mind was swirling around in constant circles. It all made you nauseous, and you clenched your eyes shut in an attempt to stop the constant spinning.
More than anything you wanted to blame it all on the alcohol, but if anything the glass of whiskey in your hands was helping, it stopped the anxiety and relaxed your bones, making it a little easier to exist.
Taking a deep breath you put the glass to your lips, sighing slightly as the strong taste flooded against your tongue. Your eyes slid shut once again as you downed the rest of your shot before slamming it down on the bar, indicating Nat to pour you another one.
She walked up to your shaking form, a small smirk written on her face. “You might wanna take it easy there slugger, you're looking a little pale.” Her red lips were saying things but you couldn’t really understand them so you just gave a thumbs up, a small giggle escaping as you did so.
“Damn how many drinks have you had Y/N?” You shrugged, holding up a random number on your hands. “A lot.”
She raised her eyebrows, gently laying down her martini. “Yeah, I can tell.” You watched intently as she grabbed the “special scotch” from beneath the counter and poured you another. “Y/N?” You hummed, clumsily reaching out for your drink, but she pulled it back before your fingers could touch it.
“What did you do that for?” You whined.
“I need you to answer my question.”
“Natasha,” She shook her head no, pulling the shot glass closer to her chest.
“Now, I thought super soldiers couldn’t get drunk, so how in the hell are you this wasted?” Nat raised an eyebrow, her manicured hand tapping against the bar. “Y/N,” She drug out your name as she stared at you, waiting for you to crack. You swallowed thickly; Peter made you promise.
“Promise what?” Your eyes widened as you struggled to stay standing, hands grasping at the stool next to you.
“I didn’t say anything.” You whispered, utterly confused at how she knew what you were thinking. Could she read your mind?
“Oh good god,” She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “No I can’t read minds Y/N, you're talking out loud.”
“What?”
“Oh my, dude, you're fucked.” In defeat she gave you the shot, walking away as you swallowed the burning liquid. Peter would’ve been proud of you for not telling her. Especially since he wasn’t even supposed to be messing with Tony’s alcohol anyway.
“Peter did what?!” You swiveled around in your chair, trying to keep it from spinning as you attempted to look at Tony, at least that’s who you thought it was.
“Shit, can you help me please?” The man walked up to you and stopped your chair, looking down into your blurry eyes.
“Y/N. What in the hell did Peter do?” Your eyes slammed shut as you struggled to think.
Did he know about the whiskey? You could’ve sworn that he didn’t know.
“Know what?” You opened your eyes at his words.
Why did you keep talking out loud?
“Nothing.”
“Y/N, tell me.” He was looking at you with harsh eyes and you ducked down, caving beneath his death glare. Peter was going to kill you.
“Peter made a special drink so I can get drunk too.” You jumped up, grabbing your glass as you did so.
“Y/N.”
“See, it’s right here.” You picked up the bottle, shaking it to indicate your quite obvious point.
“And why would he do that?” Shrugging your shoulders, you poured yourself another shot, downing the drink before Tony could grab it from you.
“Alright short stack, no more alcohol for you.”
“What!?” You whined. Pouting in annoyance as he grabbed the bottle, placing it beneath the counter. You tried to reach for it, but bending down made you dizzy, and so you grabbed ahold of Tony’s pants and gently sat down, letting your head fall against the back of the bar.
“Y/N what-”
“Shhh no questions.” You whispered, waving your hand at him. “My heads all swirly. I need you to be quiet.” He groaned, walking away as you clicked your feet together. Soon enough though that movement made your head hurt too, and so you just stayed completely still, letting your head rest as you fought to keep the memories at bay.
They’d been viscously plaguing you all night, and that’s really the main reason why you resorted to your “special scotch” in the first place. Things were a little easier to handle when you were too drunk to focus. Smiling slightly, you tried to open your eyes, noting the tall body that was walking towards you.
“Y/N.” It was more of a statement as they sat down, crossing their slack-clad legs. Out of curiosity you turned your head to look up, seeing none other than Steve Rogers looking down at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Steve,” You said breathlessly, closing your eyes once again.
“That’s right kiddo, it’s me.” You felt his hand run over the top of your head, stopping at the bottom of your neck for a moment before moving to rub your arm.
“Feels nice.” You whispered.
He immediately chuckled in response, gently patting your shoulder. “I’m guessing you're an honest drunk huh?”
“I’m not honest, just telling the truth.” You felt him laugh again, his large shoulders shaking against your own.
“Whatever you say.”
It was silent for a moment before Steve spoke. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” His voice was comforting compared to the harshness of Tony’s and for some reason, no matter the state you were in, he was always able to coax you to speak. That’s how he got you out of Hydra in the first place. You shuddered slightly at the memory and finally opened your eyes, coming face to face with his bright blues.
“Hm, what’s the deal?”
You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Nightmare.” The word was practically silent as you shoved your forehead into his neck, trying to hide your embarrassment. It didn’t matter if he knew you still had them, drunk or not you were still ashamed of yourself.
“I’m sorry kid.” He said, kissing the back of your head. His hand roamed down your back, resting between your shoulder blades. “But Y/N, you’ve had nightmares before, and you’ve never gotten drunk like this. So what was different this time?” His hand kept on rubbing. “Huh?”
He had a point.
Why was this one different?
Why was this one worse?
You quickly realized that the question didn’t really have an answer, it was just this time you were able to give into the pain and allow yourself to let go.
“Not different.” You said. “Just tired.” You leaned back up as you spoke, going to grab the bottle of whiskey.
The more questions he asked the more the alcohol was starting to wear off, and you really didn’t want to have this conversation sober. “Y/N,” Steve went to grab at the neck of the whiskey, but you pulled back, putting it to your lips. “Y/N enough.” You rolled your eyes and tried to turn away, but his reflexes were too quick, and he snatched the bottle, placing it on the other side of him.
“Stop it, okay. No more shitting around. Now you don’t have to talk to me but you’re talking to somebody. And that somebody is not this bottle.” His words sounded angry but the look on his face told you everything you needed to know. He was worried. Of course he was, it was Steve.
Taking a deep breath you nodded, trying to come back to your normal self. “Okay.” You breathed out, looking down at your hands. “Alright, I’ll talk.”
“Good. That’s good. Now-” You looked up, cutting him off as you tried to stand. “But not to you, I want to,” You paused, making sure that you weren’t insane for thinking this. It wasn’t like this man gave a shit about you anyway, but nothing in your mind made it seem like a bad idea, which had to have been the quickly fading alcohol.
You cleared your throat, not giving another thought as you spoke. “I wanna talk to James.”
Steve practically choked on air, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets. “You mean like James James, like Bucky fucking Barnes.” You nodded, leaning against the counter.
“Um, okay, yeah.” He nodded, face still looking incredulous. “Yeah I can do that.” He then pushed himself off the ground, grunting as he tried to stand.
Your brain was back into drunk mode as you watched him struggle, the last bit of the whiskey taking its hold before you had to get serious.
“Old man.” You said, giggling as he gave you a death glare.
“You get one pass.” He groaned. “That’s it.”
He jokingly held up a finger. “So as soon as you're sober again I’m gonna kick your ass.”
“Ooo, you kiss your mother with that mouth.” He rolled his eyes, going to wrap an arm around your waist, because you still weren’t steady, especially in these heels.
“One time dude, one time.” He mumbled, leading you towards the darkened hallways.
He rambled on as he did so, talking about nothing and everything all at once. You felt your body relax slightly as he laughed, feeling your anxiety physically escape your body with his presence. Steve just had that effect on you. He knew when you were nervous and with just one simple touch could ease all of your worries, like right now. He must’ve known that your mind was swarming with what ifs, and so like Steve did, he lightened the mood and made you feel better. It put a smile on your face despite your fear, and you were able to forget anything other than the way your best friend was looking at you. Because he was, he was your best friend.
“Alright Y/N,” Steve stopped, forcing you out of your thoughts. His hand was laid against the doorknob to the gym. James must’ve been doing a late-night workout, which he typically only did when he couldn’t sleep.
Realizing the thought, you bit your cheek. Fuck.
Why did you know that?
Shaking your head you faced Steve, not missing the trace of doubt on his features. “Are you sure you wanna do this? You’re still pretty out of it, maybe you should wait until you're actually sober.” He lifted his wrist up, eyes shooting down to his silver watch. “Which should only be about thirty minutes or maybe an hour with your metabolism so maybe you should just-”
“Steve.” You said, placing a hand to his shoulder. “I’m gonna be fine. I want to do this.” His eyebrows shot up as he stared at you. “God you must be really fucking drunk.” He rubbed his temples before looking back at you, “Let me know if you need me then I guess.” Then he placed a kiss on your forehead, let go, and walked away.
Once he disappeared from view you allowed yourself to shrink down slightly.
What in the hell were you doing?
You hated James, with a burning passion. You two fought constantly, and he made fun of you all the time, not to mention the fact that he was completely insensitive, sometimes, so why in the hell did you feel the utter need to talk to him?
Your eyes shot down to your vibranium arm, the dark metal staring back at you in a way that made you feel as if you were being taunted. That was why you needed him, and it was also why your mind stopped thinking and your body started moving as you opened the door and walked in, hearing his grunts before you saw him.
Shutting the door behind you, you slipped off your heels, throwing them to the side as you walked across the mat. James was a couple feet away from you, headphones on as he threw fist after fist at the punching bag.
You cleared your throat, stumbling over to the bench next to some of the workout equipment. Barnes' duffle and phone were sitting next to you, his water bottle tucked into the side pocket.
You felt your mouth water at the sight and had to force your head away, there was no way you were drinking after him.
Sighing you waited for him to notice you, fidgeting with your clothes as you did so. When he didn’t turn around after a couple minutes you called his name again. “James?!” Still no answer. Groaning you looked around before grabbing his water bottle and chucking it towards him.
But of course, you were still kind of tipsy, and so rather than it going past him liked you planned, it instead hit him right in the middle of his thigh, causing him to stumble slightly. Confused, he flipped down his headphones, looking down as he did so. “What in the-”
“Hey.” You said, waving as he looked up. “Sorry, couldn’t get your attention.
“So you had to,” He squinted in confusion, “hit me.”
“Well no, it was an accident but-” He cut you off, head shaking as he turned back towards the bag. “Doesn’t matter. What do you want?” You couldn’t help but flinch at his hostility. Sure that was what you were used to, but there was a part of you that wished he would be a little bit nicer, gentler even. Especially right now. Sighing you felt your confidence, and some of the liquor, escape your body at his words.
“Um, nothing actually. I don’t need anything, sorry for bothering you.” Shaking your head, you jumped up, trying to ignore the dizziness in your head as you did so. “Just keep walking Y/N.” You repeated, trying to keep your focus on your shoes across the room. “Keep walking.” But eventually the stars in your vision became too much to handle and you felt yourself falling, trying to brace your landing with your arms.
Expecting to come into contact with the floor, you were surprised to see the ceiling when you opened your eyes.
“Woah, hey. Easy there.” Arms were wrapped around your waist and pulling you up, your back going flush against a muscular chest as your head fell against his shoulder.
“Sorry.” You mumbled. “Kinda dizzy.”
“Yeah I noticed.” He said, lightly running his hand over your forehead.
“You’re not hot.” The words were said more to himself than anything else, but you picked up on them still, gripping onto his arms for dear life.
“Not sick. Drunk.” You felt him nod as he carefully walked you back over to the bench.
“Got a hold of Peter's “Special Scotch”?”
Your brain couldn’t focus on why he knew that so you just moved on, trying to keep yourself awake. “Mmhm.” You felt yourself being placed against a hard surface and struggled to keep your head up as he let go of you.
“One thing Peter neglected to mention, that shit knocks you off your feet.” He chuckled as he said it, rustling around in his duffel bag before walking away.
“Y/N.” He whispered, rubbing your leg. “Y/N open your eyes.” You grabbed his hand, trying to force your eyelids open, but they just felt so heavy and everything was spinning. It wouldn’t stop spinning.
“Can’t. M’dizzy.”
“Alright.” He sighed. “That’s alright just drink some water for me okay?” He brough something to your lips, coaxing it past them before putting it on your tongue. Soon enough you felt ice-cold water fill your mouth, bringing you back to Earth slightly. When you swallowed it he indicated to you to drink more and so you did.
“Good girl.” He whispered, continuing to rub your leg. “It’ll help ya feel better in a minute.” You nodded, shoving away the water bottle when you were finished. You tried to just breathe for a moment, fighting away the nausea that was starting to arise. Bile was beginning to collect in your throat, and you wrapped a hand around your stomach, trying not to let tears escape your eyes.
“I feel sick.” You mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut.
“I know. It sucks." He empathized, patting your calf. "But you’ve got nothing to throw up, so just try to ride it out.” Your brain however did process those words and you felt confused.
“What?”
“You didn’t eat today.”
You opened your eyes, coming face to face with a slightly red-faced James. “How’d you know that?” He shrugged, the blush creeping up his neck and to his ears. “Just an observation.” You nodded, smiling slightly.
“Kay.” That was all you could muster up as he rolled his eyes.
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Oh I don’t plan on it.” You both laughed, your head involuntarily falling down to his shoulder when you did. His hand immediately came to the rescue, guiding your head the rest of the way down.
“Take it easy there Y/N. Don’t break your neck now.” You wanted to say something stupid, something that would start a fight, but you just couldn’t. It felt like your whole mind had short-circuited and suddenly the only thing you could focus on was that nightmare. The only thing that existed was the feeling of a drug flowing through your veins and the boiling hot knives against your skin. The sound of your brother's screams echoed in the background of it all, causing you to shudder in James' hold.
“Hey, hey. What’s up? Why you shaking? Are you cold?” He rubbed a hand down your back, lips finding your temple.
What was happening?
“No.” You stuttered out, squeezing onto his t-shirt.
“Then what’s the-” He paused, his hands stopping their motions. “Never mind, I get it.”
“All of it.” You whispered. “Yeah Y/N, all of it.” You let out a breath of relief, holding onto him just a little tighter.
“You want to talk about it?”
“No, please no.”
“Okay, alright, I understand. Probably more than anyone.” He let out a dry laugh, stopping when he realized you were still shaking. “Hey Y/N.”
“Hm.”
He cleared his throat, leaning his head into you a little bit. “I think you look very pretty.” You froze slightly, pushing back in his hold.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, don’t make a thing out of it, but yes. This color looks very nice on you. Brings out your eyes.” He shrugged again, turning away from your endless gaze.
“Well-”
“Don’t say anything smart. I’m just trying to be nice.”
“I wasn’t, I wasn’t gonna.” He turned back to look at you, eyes moving to your lips. “No?”
“I was just gonna say thank you.”
“That’s it.” He said suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. “That’s it.” You repeated. You were both silent, eyes locked on one another.
“Anyway.” You broke the tension, clearing your throat as you pulled away. It was hard though, he was like a magnet, despite your anger towards him you couldn’t help but be around him.
“I think I’m alright now.”
“You sure?” He asked, “Cause I don’t mind giving you some boxing lessons.” He stood up, gently kicking your foot as he did. “A lil one-on-one. You feel me?” You burst out laughing at the hint of his New York accent, trying to stop the unnecessary giggles that were escaping.
“Don’t ever say that again. I beg you.” He started laughing to, breaking out into a wide grin. It was all a nice contrast to what you were used to, and you tried to memorize it all knowing that this was most likely a one time thing. You guys were glorified “enemies” and nothing more.
“So what do you say, you up for a challenge?”
“Oh dude.” You whispered, feeling the rest of the liquor escape your body. Thank the super soldier serum for its fast metabolism.
“You are fucking on.”
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Taglist: @chrisevansdaughter @neonovember @buckymcbuckbarnes @evanswife1918 @captain-of-my-game1992 @vrittivsanghavi @outoftheseine
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bucky-fricking-barnes · 15 hours
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Wild (3/4)
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Pairing: Lycanthrope!Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 4.8k
Warnings: Very mild innuendos, Russian text (translations at the end)
Summary: Over the years, Y/N has found that in times of great need, a wolf appears to aid her. She relies on its presence until one day, her wolf is in need of her help instead.
A/N: This fic contains some brief phrases and one conversation in Russian. There are translations at the bottom of the fic, but for those who are curious, the conversation contains no information that has not already been explained in English, as it is mostly backstory being explained to Natasha. Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Previous Part | Miniseries Masterlist
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“You’ve already met all of the family I have,” you tell him. “Nat took care of me after you led me to that village. It’s always been the two of us against the world, and now I have you, too.”
“You both do. Natasha is part of your pack, so she’ll be part of mine, too, if she wishes.”
The front door slams open, bringing with it a gust of wind, a flurry of snowflakes, and a very cold Natasha. Her forearms are laden with grocery bags and there’s a mysterious mass of brown, snowflake-covered fluff tucked up against her side.
“Y/N? A little help?”
Bucky’s out of his seat before you can stop him, taking the bags from her without a second thought. You watch in horror from your spot at the table as he manhandles them away from her and heads into the kitchen without another word. The brown fuzzy thing falls to the floor, just out of reach of the quickly melting snow. Natasha stands in front of the open door, a million emotions crossing her features. She’s already spotted you and can tell that you’re safe and not on edge, which means she knows that Bucky’s not a threat, but you know that she’s definitely suspicious.
She’s probably already figured out the best ten ways to corner and kill him, you think in a panic.
Quickly, you get up from the chair and close the front door, then help her out of her coat. Melted snow drips onto the floor at your feet. Now that you’re closer, you realize that the brown lump of fluff beside you is a dog bed, and your comments from this morning pop back into your head.
“Who is he?” she whispers, glancing back towards the kitchen. Bucky’s putting the groceries away, no doubt in the correct spots after watching the two of you cook and clean for months now, and you can hear him humming to himself as he works. Something tells you that if you stopped to listen, it would be something you liked.
“His name is Bucky,” you quietly explain. “And he’s the wolf.”
She pauses to stare at you with one boot off. Nat’s standing with socked feet in a puddle of melted snow but doesn’t even seem to notice.
“You’re kidding.”
You shake your head. “No. He’s a lycanthrope. Er, a lycan. Apparently we both are, him and me.”
Natasha blinks. “You’re a lycanthrope?” she asks, and you nod. “I thought those were just a myth. Since when are—”
“I didn’t know. If I had, I would’ve told you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Синица,” she assures you, and instantly your nerves are soothed. She grabs your hands and squeezes them both between her own gloved fingers, smiling softly. Her nose and ears are pink from the cold and there are quickly melting snowflakes tucked into the fiery red of her hair. Natasha always looks right at home in the cold, and she wears it well. “I believe you, and I’m not angry with you. Now come, I want to interrogate your new wolf friend.”
“He’s not new,” you say, grinning. After prying off her second boot, she forces you to loop your arm with hers and practically drags you to the kitchen, where she continues to ignore her wet socks in favor of staring down Bucky.
He’s at the freezer, frowning hard as he rearranges it to make room for the new additions Natasha had picked up at the store. You watch in amused silence as he works, until finally he closes the door and turns to face the two of you.
“Natalia,” he greets, bowing his head slightly. “Меня зовут Джеймс Бьюкенен Барнс, и я не причиню вреда.”
She quirks an eyebrow at him. “Y/N говорит, что ты ликантроп и что ты им был еще до того, как спас ее. Ты помогал ей все эти годы только для того, чтобы залезть к ней в штаны?”
He shakes his head and you look between the two of them. You’ve been able to learn some Russian over the years, but they’re talking too quickly for you to do anything but pick out a few words and phrases. The ones you do know make you want to crawl into a hole.
“Я родился ликантропом и был узником ГИДРЫ в то же время, что и Т/И. Они ставили эксперименты на мне, и я почти уверен, что они использовали мою ДНК, чтобы мутировать ее. Мне жаль. Из-за этого мы связаны. Она попросила меня остаться, но если ты хочешь, чтобы я ушел, я уйду,” he says.
Bucky sounds good—gorgeous, even—when he’s speaking another language, and you could truly listen to him all day, but you’re also fed up.
“Enough!” You pull your arm from Natasha’s to cross them both over your chest, giving them an irritated look. “In English, please! Some of us are still learning!”
“Immersion is the best way to learn,” Bucky teases, and you narrow your eyes at him.
Natasha laughs. “I think I like him.”
Scowling, you stomp back into the living room and grab the dog bed from where Natasha had dropped it. They’re watching you from the kitchen doorway with matching satisfied smirks on their faces, and you shake the bed at Bucky.
“I’ll make you sleep on this,” you threaten. “Don’t think I won’t!”
He laughs, a deep, rolling laugh that echoes in the cabin and in your soul, and you tense slightly against the bolt of lightning that zips down your spine at the sound. Your smirk wavers.
“I was rather hoping we wouldn’t sleep tonight, Маленький,” Bucky says. “I’d like to take you for a run.”
Natasha chokes and ducks around him, heading back into the kitchen for a bottle of water. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment.
“Not like that!” you clarify, hoping you’re loud enough for her to hear over the hum of the ancient refrigerator. “He literally means running!”
The smug look on his face hasn’t faltered and you scoff, tossing the dog bed at him. Bucky easily catches it with one hand and grips the brown fluff until it’s completely squashed under his fingers.
“It will be a good experience for you. I promise to keep you safe.”
Though you’re thoroughly discombobulated after the day you’ve had, you nod. His face lights up with joy, which makes your own stomach flutter. The intensity of his emotions almost knocks you off your feet and you have the fleeting thought that if you can feel what he’s feeling, he can feel what you feel as well.
“If we’re going to be up all night, I’m going to go nap now,” you say, and he nods in agreement.
“I’ll probably join you.”
You freeze. He can’t be serious, you think. He didn’t mean that the way I think he means, right?
“Everything okay?” Bucky asks.
“You’re going to… join me?” you ask him, frowning. “As in…?”
He seems to catch on quickly and his eyes widen slightly. “Oh. No, I’m sorry, I’m not used to being in my human form. It’s been years since I’ve been human around other people. Um… I’ll take the couch.” 
Bucky steps further into the living room and nods at the couch pushed up against the wall. It faces the window and it’s entirely too small for him, and you immediately feel bad.
“There’s no way I’m letting you sleep on the couch. It’s way too small. Take my bed,” you say. When he goes to argue, you shake your head. “Bucky, the couch isn’t big enough for you. We’ll figure something out later, but for now, just sleep in my room. Okay?.”
Natasha pokes her head in from the kitchen. “Y/N can sleep in my bed for right now, I have some work I need to do in the living room anyway and it would just keep her up.”
You send her a grateful look before heading towards the hallway. Her room is the farthest, so when Bucky murmurs your name, you have to turn around to see if you’d actually heard him correctly.
“I know this is a lot,” he says, his voice soft. Natasha has good hearing, but not good enough that she’ll be able to hear any kind of quiet conversation the two of you have in the hallway. He’s smart enough to know that, and you know that he’s being this quiet on purpose.
“It is,” you confirm. You wrap your arms around yourself, watching him closely.
“For what it’s worth, you’re handling it well. There aren’t many of us around anymore. Most of my kind—our kind,” he corrects, “died off a long time ago, but I remember when I was little and my pack would come across a lycan that didn’t know their true self. It was always a big adjustment for them, and there’s not much any of us can do to help.”
Smiling just a little, you nod. “Thanks, Bucky. I’ll see you in a few hours?”
You grab the handle on Natasha’s room and wait until he nods, then enter. As you close the door behind you, you sigh in relief. You need some time to process, and Nat’s little sanctuary is one of the best places you can think of to do that. Her room is warm and cozy, filled with lots of blankets and stacks of books you know she’s read time and time again. You know that the atmosphere of the room is the exact opposite of what she had before she retired, and it’s an intentional change. She needed something that felt like home, you’d said, and after a year of living in the cabin, she’d started to agree with you. Since then, she’s read through most of the library in town, and every winter you notice that she adds at least one new blanket. It’s not unusual for her to have candles burning or soft lighting on as she relaxes, and there have been many nights where you’ve spread her blankets out of the floor and slept beside her after a nightmare. Her room is the pinnacle of safety, in your mind, though now Bucky has started to work his way into that picture.
It takes you a few minutes to make a comfortable nest in the center of her mattress, but once you’re settled under the covers, you close your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep. It doesn’t take you long, especially after your mind drifted to thoughts of Bucky’s face softened by moonlight.
You wake again to Natasha shaking you, a small smile on her lips. She’s holding a mug in one hand and has her hair clipped up, clueing you into the fact that she’s just begun her nighttime routine. You sit up in the bed and squint at the darkness outside the window.
“It’s just past ten, Синица,” she tells you. She sips her tea and sits in the plush chair she’d found at a thrift store months ago. It rocks a little as she settles and pulls a blanket over her lap, then sets the mug down on the small side table nearby. She grabs her book, completely nonplussed by your owlish stare.
“Ten?” you finally ask.
Natasha looks up at you over the top of the pages. “10:14, to be exact.”
“I slept until after ten?”
She sighs and closes the book again, using her finger to keep her place. “You clearly needed the rest,” she replies. “You had an exciting morning.”
You scoff at her and swing your legs over the side of the bed, shoving blankets off of you. “That’s putting it mildly.”
"How are you doing?”
“Fine, I guess,” you shrug. Standing, you adjust your clothes where they’ve twisted around you in your sleep, then glance over at her. “You don’t seem very surprised by all of this.”
“I’ve seen a lot of strange things in my life, Y/N,” Natasha tells you. There’s a hint of a smile on her face as she picks up her mug with her free hand to take a sip. “You turning into a wolf is hardly at the top of the list.”
“And you’re okay with me just running off in the middle of the night with the strange man who also happens to be a lycan?”
“Do you want me to object?” She’s teasing you, you know she is, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. You know that she wants you to admit that you’d love to run off with Bucky and that even her objecting wouldn’t stop you.
“Come on, Синица,” she sighs, setting her mug back on the side table. “You clearly have some kind of…” She waves her hand around. “Connection with him.”
You wrinkle your nose. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Let me finish.” She leans forward to smack the side of your thigh with the book and you swat at her. “He’s helped you through a lot of rough times in your life, and you’ve done the same for him. It’s only natural that you want to spend time together. Maybe that desire will fade, maybe not, but you can still learn a lot from him, right?”
“Right.”
“So learn,” she says, gesturing towards the door. It’s shut tight, but the light from the hallway shines in through the crack at the bottom. If you’re quiet, you can hear Bucky shuffling things around in the kitchen. “If you’re not going to think of him as a potential lover—”
“Natasha!”
She’s grinning. “—then think of him as a tutor, of sorts.”
"You’re disgusting.”
“Go have fun on your midnight run, Синица.” Nat draws out the nickname, teasing you as you hurry out of her room. 
Almost immediately after slamming the bedroom door shut behind you, you run into Bucky. He’s standing outside your room with a mug in one hand and a plate of food in the other. It smells heavenly.
“Good morning,” he says, a slow smile growing on his face.
Your cheeks burn under his gaze. “It’s technically night.”
That’s the best response you could’ve come up with? No wonder Nat’s teasing you, you scold yourself. Don’t act like some lovesick teenager.
Bucky’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Well, goodnight then. I made you something to eat and some coffee. You’re going to need your strength tonight. Running as a wolf takes more energy than as a human, even more so because you’re not used to it.”
Nodding, you take the plate and the mug. The coffee is still hot, but a tentative sip tells you that he’s gotten your drink exactly right. You raise an eyebrow at him and surprisingly, Bucky looks sheepish.
“I caught on to what you like to eat and drink a few days after you saved me,” he admits. “Does it taste okay?”
You nod again and offer him a small smile now that you’re feeling a bit more grounded in his presence. “It does. Thank you, Bucky.”
He smiles back, then turns and heads back down the hallway. You follow him to the kitchen, where the two of you settle at the table in front of the sliding doors. It’s dark outside as he begins to eat his own plate of food. You can’t help but notice that the portions are much larger than you would’ve normally served anybody, but somehow it doesn’t feel like too much.
Carefully, you settle down in the seat across from him and begin to eat. Bucky’s a good cook, despite having spent so long in his wolf body, and soon your plate is clean. You hum approvingly and sip your coffee when you finish, relaxing back in your chair.
“Good?” he asks, and you nod in response. “My ma taught me how to make that recipe when I was first old enough to help her. It’s been a long time since I’ve made it.”
"It’s one of the best things I’ve ever eaten,” you tell him honestly. The kitchen falls silent as the two of you sip your coffee. You watch the snow that still falls outside for a few moments before looking back at him. “Were you close with your family?”
It takes a second, but Bucky nods. “I was,” he answers. His voice is soft and thick with emotion, and there’s an accent there that you hadn’t noticed before. Despite its familiarity, you can’t quite place it. “Ma was one of the greatest people I’ve ever known. She was beautiful and smart and she could make anything you could ever dream of in the kitchen. I had a little sister too—Becca.”
“How old is she?”
“She was 20 when I was taken. I was 26.” Bucky cradles his mug of coffee between his hands, staring down into it. His drink is almost as dark as the sky outside and you make a mental note that he drinks his coffee black. You want to be able to return the favor of making him something to eat and drink someday, hopefully soon.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur, and he nods.
A few minutes pass in silence. You listen to Natasha shuffle around down the hall as she gets ready for bed, and then you hear the light click off in her room. Bucky stands and collects the dishes, leaving you with your half-empty mug of coffee while he starts to load the dishwasher.
“I can do that,” you offer. He shakes his head, not bothering with a verbal response, but you get the message. You’ve prodded him with enough personal questions today and he wants the silence. He wants to keep busy until the main event of your evening arrives.
Finally, Bucky places the last dish onto the top rack and closes the door. You meet his eyes and he nods.
“So how does this work?” you ask as you stand. 
He slides open the door to the backyard and you immediately shiver when a gust of frigid air pushes through into the kitchen. Snowflakes flutter inside and though every part of you is telling you that it’s not wise to go out without a coat, or even shoes, you follow him out and let him shut the door behind you. The tiny wooden deck attached to the back of the house is covered with snow and your feet are already stinging from the cold.
“Now all we have to do is shift. We’ll run until you get tired and then I’ll bring you back home. I’ll probably want to run longer after that, but you can come inside and sleep. You’ll sleep for a while, I’m sure. The first run is always the most exhilarating, but also the most exhausting. I can still remember mine clearly. I slept for fourteen hours when I finally returned home,” Bucky explains.
You gawk at him. “Fourteen hours?”
He nods, a hint of pride in his eyes. Even his chin lifts slightly and you have to hold back a chuckle. “But I ran for a full eight.”
Judging by his expression, you can tell that that’s a lot, even though you have nothing to base it on. You smile accordingly and hope you’re acting impressed enough as Bucky leads you to the edge of the forest. You’re practically wading through the snow and you start to wonder if you’ll even be able to run in this weather. Bucky doesn’t seem concerned, however, so you push the worry away.
“To shift into your wolf form, you’ll need to try and picture what you look like, or what it felt like to be a wolf. It’ll be easier if you can think of both those things at once,” he tells you.
The nervousness trickles back into your mind as your smile fades, and you nod. Swallowing thickly, you close your eyes and exhale slowly to try and calm your racing heart.
"Easy, Y/N,” Bucky soothes. You feel his hand on the back of your head, and then it traces over your body down to the small of your back. It should feel weird—nobody except Natasha has touched you so affectionately in so long—but instead, it feels natural. It soothes your ragged nerves and you feel your shoulders relax as his hand lingers. His warmth is noticeable through your shirt, even in the freezing winter air.
“You have that picture in your head now?” he murmurs, and you nod. “Good. Picture yourself as your wolf, and then reach for it.”
Confused, you hesitantly raise one hand and reach away from your body, grasping at nothing. Bucky chuckles, and then you feel his hand around yours. He laces your fingers together and you open your eyes. You turn your head to meet his gaze, and he’s smiling fondly at you.
“You’re funny, Маленький.”
Heat blossoms in your cheeks at his praise, and you silently preen under his doting stare. The next time you hear he speaks, his voice echoes in your head rather than in your ears.
“Good job, Y/N. How do you feel?”
You frown at him, confused by the question. Nothing has happened yet. “Fine, why?”
Bucky chuckles. “You shifted. How do you feel?”
It takes a second, but you realize after a second that he’s right. You have shifted, and you don’t feel that much different than before.
The world around you seems like a whole new world, though it’s just your backyard. You turn in a circle, taking in the different smells and sounds that you couldn’t sense before. It’s warmer now, too, and you attribute that to your thick gray coat. Everything is taller. Before, the dark muddled the trees and the snow clouded your vision, but now you can see clearly. Everything seems sharper and a lot easier to decipher.
When you turn back to Bucky, he’s shifted as well. The snowflakes disappear into his fur and he’s the picture of majesty standing in the moonlight amongst the dark evergreens. It’s breathtaking. You step forward, approaching him on impulse, but he ruins the picture and stops you in your tracks when he bows down like a dog ready to play, his tail wagging and tongue sticking out.
You snort. “Are you serious?”
“Maybe. Bet you can’t catch me,” he shoots back.
Narrowing your eyes, you huff. A puff of white rises in front of you when your breath hits the nighttime air. “And if I do?” you ask.
“I’ll cook you dinner every night for a week.”
“A month.”
“Two weeks.”
“On your mark—”
Bucky dashes into the forest before you can even finish the phrase and you bark, then leap into action. You’re panting as you chase him, dodging trees and jumping over fallen logs like you’d been doing it since birth. The snow does little to slow either of you down, and it’s not until you’re scrambling to the top of a pile of rocks that you realize just how far from the cottage you’ve gotten. You’re barely even winded, and the thought makes your heart soar.
You can see the cottage in the distance, just past the treeline. The windows are dark and if you didn’t trust Bucky as much, you would have been worried that you didn’t leave a light on to help you find your way home. Up above, the moon shines bright over the forest, illuminating the bare branches laden with thin lines of snow. There are no animals in sight, but you know that if you were to come to this very spot any other time of year, you’d be gifted with the sight of baby birds in their nests. There would be squirrels chasing each other and foxes slinking through the brush, and everything would be humming with the energy of new life. Now, however, it’s calm and still. You understand why Bucky likes to run at night.
Stars twinkle above you too, and you marvel at the sight. They’re clearer now that you’re a wolf. Somehow, though you’re not truly surprised, you can tell exactly which one points you north, and you can smell the smoke from another cabin’s fireplace coming from the east.
The view is distracting enough that you almost miss Bucky ducking for cover near a large snow bank. Silently, you drop down and crawl off the rocks, all the while trying to keep your approach quiet and emotions steady. You haven’t been a lycan for long, but you’ve learned enough to know that either one of those things could give you away. He could very easily pick up on your sense of victory or the soft crunch of snow beneath your paws.
Bucky has his back to you when you peek around the side of the bank. His ears are pricked, like he’s listening for you, but he doesn’t react until you’re practically on top of him. When you’re there, he flips onto his back and the two of you wrestle until he gives. You nip at his ear before giving him space, panting as you stand a few feet away.
“You’re a fast learner,” he finally says, and you can feel the warmth he feels for you in the center of your chest.
You’re almost bashful as you reply, “You’re a good teacher. And you were right, this is fun. Is it always like this when you have a pack?”
He starts walking and you come alongside him, matching your steps to his. “Sometimes,” Bucky replies. “We have fights, just like all families do, but our bonds with each other are deeper. When you’re part of a pair, your mate can feel what you feel. It’s part of what separates us from werewolves.”
His words make you pause, but you quickly right yourself. Mates? 
“Does that make us mates?” you ask.
Bucky stops and looks over at you. “What?”
“Are we mates?”
“We barely know each other, Y/N. How could we be mates?”
You hesitate. “Well, I can feel what you feel. Can’t you?”
He falls silent, staring at you. 
“Bucky?” you prompt. Your heart sinks to your stomach as he continues to stare at you in utter silence.
Have I done something wrong? Is that not something you’re supposed to talk about? Is there something wrong with me because I can sense his emotions? Does he already have a mate?
Finally, he answers, stopping your whirling thoughts in their tracks. “I didn’t think you’d catch on so quickly. I was hoping I had more time to figure it out.”
“Figure it out?” You glance around the woods. “Are we really mates? Is that true?”
He nods, cautious. His fear and apprehension slips in past your defenses, worming its way into your heart. You whine and shift uncomfortably. It’s hard to tell if it’s just his fear alone or if you’re feeling the same way.
“We are, yeah,” he murmurs. He steps forward, entering your personal space, and rests his head against yours for a moment. The proximity soothes your nerves and you exhale slowly as he steps away again.
“So… what does that mean, exactly?”
Bucky sits. His ears twitch slightly when an owl hoots and the wind blows through, swirling more snow into the air around you. You copy him and wait for him to speak again.
“It means that we have a deeper connection that you will with other lycans, like Steve. You won’t be able to sense them and you won’t feel at ease around them. Being someone’s mate doesn’t determine your relationship with that person though, like it does with animals. Some lycan mates don’t have any kind of romantic relationship. They’re simply partners, friends. They work well as a team and they’re always respected in their pack.”
“A lycan dream team,” you supply, and he chuckles.
“Exactly.”
“And what about the others? The ones that do have a romantic relationship?”
“Those lycans live together. They become a couple, and we even have a special marriage ceremony to seal a vow between them that makes their bond stronger,” he explains. “Sometimes they’ll have kids, but sometimes not. We’re not a lot different from humans in that respect.”
You stay silent and look towards the thicker part of the forest as you process his words. Though it’s dark, your heightened senses allow you to see farther than you normally would. The smoke from the cabin in the east has dissipated into the night air, leaving only the fresh smell of snow and Bucky. Even in what could be an incredibly awkward conversation or frightening experience, you’re immensely comforted by his presence. You don’t feel the need to shy away from the tough questions or new feelings he brings up.
“Then we don’t need to force anything? We can just be friends?” you ask him, and Bucky nods. You tilt your head, smiling at him as well as you can in your wolf form. “Okay. I’d like that. If something else develops, would you be okay with that? With me?”
His eyes soften. “Of course I would, Y/N. I’m always okay with you.”
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Russian Translations:
Меня зовут Джеймс Бьюкенен Барнс, и я не причиню вреда. = My name is James Buchanan Barnes and I mean no harm.
Y/N говорит, что ты ликантроп и что ты им был еще до того, как спас ее. Ты помогал ей все эти годы только для того, чтобы залезть к ней в штаны? = Y/N says that you’re a lycanthrope and that you were one even before you saved her. Have you been helping her all these years just to get in her pants?
Я родился ликантропом и был узником ГИДРЫ в то же время, что и Т/И. Они ставили эксперименты на мне, и я почти уверен, что они использовали мою ДНК, чтобы мутировать ее. Мне жаль. Из-за этого мы связаны. Она попросила меня остаться, но если ты хочешь, чтобы я ушел, я уйду. = I was born a lycanthrope and was a prisoner of HYDRA at the same time as Y/N. They experimented on me and I'm pretty sure they used my DNA to mutate hers. I'm sorry. Because of this, we are connected. She asked me to stay, but if you want me to leave, I will.
Маленький = little one
Синица = chickadee
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 Wild Tags: @mylifeofcalculatedchaos​
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captainsimagines · 1 day
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🎄 New Holiday Series ✨
Yes, I am writing a mini-series this holiday season. Yes, it is Buckyx(Fem)Reader. Yes, it will be published all at once, before Christmas.
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It is the “Pretty Woman” fanfic you’ve all been waiting for, with a mix of fluff, angst, and tear-jerking love confessions. This new mini-series is rated 18+ for sexual content, triggering content (past Hydra physical and SA abuse), and heavy PTSD.
Like I said, it’s angst. Hurt/Comfort. Reader is a consensual sex worker and Bucky hires her to get used to touch again. It’s another healing journey we’re taking. I find it healing for me to write as well. ❤️
If you would like to be tagged, please comment down below or message me. You will be tagged in the Masterlist.
It will be published this month. 🤗
So excited for this one. I really hope you are, too. ❤️
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— frozen hearts: three —
Warnings: PTSD, angst, fluff, kidnapping, torture, sort of jerk!Bucky, self-hatred, family issues, pregnancy (other character), a bit more fluff, past abusive relationship
Word Count: ~8k
A/N: Please read trigger warnings! There’s a few more all related back to PTSD specifically from being in the army, such as gun violence, bombings, and etc. The next chapter will also be given certain trigger warnings, so please do read them all before proceeding. On another note, please feel free to reblog, reply, and leave a book report!
Bucky woke up with a start, chest heaving and his hair sticking to his forehead. He moved back from you, barely noticing that your head was on his arm. He pulled it out from underneath you sharply and woke you up. He blindly shoved off the blankets and swung his feet over the bed, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down. His eyes darted around, trying to calm himself down by remembering where he was and where he wasn’t. When it didn’t work, he stood up and started for the door.
“James?” Your voice reached out to him, freezing his body in place just a few feet away from the door. You shoved your blanket off, shivering at the cold air, and slowly made your way to him, speaking softly as you approached him. “You’re safe. We’re visiting my family. You met Daniel and Nathaniel, the twins, and Ariel. Matthew and you took the twins to the frozen lake to play hockey. We had my mom’s special lasagna and you loved it.”
Bucky started to glance around the room, realising where he was and why he was there. His breathing evened out a little, but he needed something else. You stood just a foot away from him, holding out your right hand. He looked at it for a good minute, still in shock that you hadn’t touched him without his permission. Hydra operatives didn’t do that; they did whatever they wanted. He slowly extended his hand to yours, squeezing it lightly and bringing you closer. You moved according to his guide to avoid any more panic. 
You knew about his episodes because of Steve’s late night talks. He had let you know about Bucky’s trauma and how he woke up in panic, scared that he was back in Hydra’s claws during his last tour. It was the one he lost his arm in. He had saved a man named T’Challa, a prince that hid his identity in hopes to catch Hydra’s shipments of vibranium from his country, from a blast, burning his left arm in the process. After the blast, he had been on the verge of passing out, letting him fall into the clutch of Hydra while T’Challa was hidden behind a rock thanks to Bucky’s quick thinking. 
When Hydra took him hostage, they had gotten rid of his arm, knowing that the blast had made it useless by damaging major nerves. They had made him sit through torture—which Steve didn’t elaborate on, but you knew that he had seen some tapes and you were just glad that you hadn’t. Bucky’s arm was replaced with a titanium one that worked with his nervous system. But he didn’t know that T’Challa had teams searching for him. Once T’Challa’s cousin, Erik or N’Jadaka, found the base he was held at, T’Challa made sure that Bucky received all the help he could offer. The arm he had now was a gift from Shuri, princess of Wakanda and sister of T’Challa. 
Sometimes, Steve had told you, Bucky woke up and didn’t know that he was safe from Hydra. 
“You wanna talk about it?” You offered in an uncertain tone. He was already so closed off with you and you doubted he wanted to let you, out of all the people he could, in. Unsurprised at Bucky shaking his head, you nodded and let his hand play with yours. You glanced down at other hand, noticing how it was fisted and then at his chest which was still rising and falling irregularly. 
“Wanna sit down?” You were met with silence. “James?” Bucky’s eyes darted to yours, tearing up and glossing over. You held out your other hand, ignoring the shake of his head this time, and kept it there for a minute. Then he hesitantly raised his metal hand, touching the tip of your fingers lightly before jolting his hand back. A tear fell and you couldn’t stop your hand that touched his face gingerly, wiping the tear on his right cheek. He flinched at the contact and you pulled it back, mumbling out an apology. Bucky squeezed your hand, letting you know that he had heard you. 
“Wanna lay down?” You tried, overcoming the urge to yawn. You glanced at the clock over your shoulder, bright red numbers glaring back at you. It was nearing three in the morning which meant that you had fallen asleep about four hours ago and still had about four hours of sleep. You rubbed your eyes, begging them to stay open while containing yet another yawn. Bucky nodded to your surprise, but you didn’t show it. 
You pulled his hand and led him to your side of the bed, gesturing for him to climb in first. He held your hand as he moved to his side, making you sit on your knees as he laid down, looking up at you expectantly. You resisted the urge to smile at his child-like behaviour and shifted down to lay next to him. You felt him tug your hand towards him and you obliged, moving closer to him until he sighed and let go of your hand. His left arm slid underneath your torso, pulling you even closer to him as he shifted downwards. His right hand went over your waist and he shifted you effortlessly so that you were laid on your back. He buried his face into your stomach and your hands went to his long locks and massaged his head. 
You felt your shirt getting wet with his silent tears and you knew not to say anything about this.
———
“Y/N?” Bucky’s groggy voice broke into your slumber, making you groan in response. You threw an arm over your head, hearing the slight cracks in your joints as you did so. “You gotta get up, doll. Your ma walked in ‘n asked for us to get up. Your gran’parents are coming in an hour.” 
“Shit,” you mumbled, voice cracking as you let your arm down and joined the other hand in Bucky’s hair. Something about this moment was domestic and private, and if someone else was to walk into the room, they would think you two were really in love with each other. His head was laid against your chest—at some point at night he must’ve moved up—and his arms were wrapped around your waist, adjusting them every now and then. Your hands were caressing his hair, fingernails scraping against his scalp and massaging his head with the tips of your fingers. 
“Should I get up first?” Bucky asked, lifting his head to look at you. You were already about to go to sleep again after a glance at the clock that said 6:21. Your eyes were closed and your breathing was evening out again. Bucky hid the smile that threatened to show and answered his own question in a whisper. “I guess I’ll go.” 
He pulled his arm out from underneath you gently, smiling to himself when you turned and mumbled out something unintelligent. He turned and got out of the bed, last night's events hitting him like a wave. You had known what was happening; he knew he had never told you so it was Steve’s doing. The way you had handled the situation surprised him because he knew Steve couldn’t have explained that part to you; Steve didn’t even know how to handle him. He glanced over his shoulder to look at your sleeping figure, realising that that was all you. 
Your quick thinking had calmed him down within minutes, rather than the twenty to thirty minute walk he had to take to calm himself down. The way you measured him out, not touching him until he wanted to touch you, made him feel understood. He remembered that you asked him if he wanted to talk about his nightmare and he gave you a shake of his head. You were patient with him, unlike Steve who always forced the nightmare out of him. It had made him realise that you weren’t Steve at that moment. Bucky had always known you were compassionate, and last night snapped his thoughts together about how close he was getting to you.
He was going to ruin you like he ruined himself. 
He pushed off the bed, reminding himself that he had to get ready so that he wasn’t late to meet your grandparents. Grabbing his clothes for the day—a green crewneck and black jeans—he made his way to the bathroom, mulling over his thoughts. He made a promise that he wouldn’t mess this up for you and he was planning on keeping it by being ready by the time your grandparents arrived. His thoughts consumed him as he brushed his teeth and took a quick shower, advising him to keep his distance from you and keep the act on while your family wasn’t there. God, he was gonna be a jerk. 
When he made his way out of the shower, watching your figure sleeping on his side of the bed, snuggled against his pillow. He didn’t want to, but he had to start the act that he had taken up almost three years ago. So he tossed his towel on your side of the bed, hoping that would irk a reaction from you, and grabbed the end of the blanket. Yeah, he was a jerk. 
He yanked as hard as he could, waking you with a start. 
“Barnes!” You screamed, sitting up quickly and swinging your legs off the bed. “What the hell is wrong with you, you jerk.” You swayed on your feet before sitting back down on the bed when you almost toppled over. 
“You’re gonna be late,” he deadpanned, ignoring the glare you threw his way. 
“Doesn’t mean you try to freeze me to death!” 
He almost let a smile break out. “Stop being a drama queen, Y/S.” He had noticed he was calling you doll a bit too much, so he opted to use your last name this time. You narrowed your eyes at him, fuming as you got up slowly then, noticing his towel on your side. You grabbed it and flung at his face, eyes tearing up as you walked into the closet to grab your clothes. He wouldn’t deny the hurt that hit his chest at your tears. He wanted to run in and apologise to you, but when you came back out, the tears had dissolved and your face had turned stoic. 
“You can go downstairs,” you said unemotionally. “I’ll join you later.” With that, you disappeared into the bathroom, locking the door aggressively so that he could hear the click. He winced at the noise as if someone touched a bruise. He physically deflated at the sound of the tap running, feeling more horrible than he ever did. The past few days had reminded him why he had developed a crush on you and it had only grown for the last two days. He had had to sit there, watching you interact with your nephews and then your niece and his feelings had crashed into him like a tsunami. 
He sighed and sat down on the bed, thinking about how bizarre it would seem to your family if he went down first. In those few minutes he started to notice a few things. 
First, he was a lovesick puppy. He knew that he liked you, a lot, but he didn’t know that his crush would come flooding back when he got here. The only thing that kept him away from you was your unbroken character, the fact that you were kind and compassionate. And he knew it sounded stupid if he said to someone else, but to him it was a reason not to taint you. 
Second, he was jealous of Sam. It didn’t hit him when Steve suggested Sam to be your fake boyfriend. He had arguably a good defence that Sam could be overdramatic and be too affectionate. But then the thought of you hugging, kissing, and getting too comfortable with Sam made him blurt out the proposal of him as your fake boyfriend. It really hit him when he saw Sam’s hoodie with you. Yeah, you and Sam were good friends—maybe even best friends—but it didn’t calm the jealousy. Instead it made him realise exactly how jealous he could be of Sam. 
Third, he was going to have to be a complete jerk to keep you away from him. He didn’t put too much thought into it. His only thought was to annoy you as much as he could. Then he finally came to a conclusion that he could easily ignore you entirely—not entirely because it was impossible—to create a distance between the now blurry lines. And that was going to be impossible. 
Fourth, he was royally fucked. 
“Why’d you wait?” 
Bucky’s head snapped up to yours, noticing the emerald coloured dress you had decided to wear. It had full sleeves which came to flow at your elbows and had a pattern at its v-neckline with studded jewels. The torso of the dress hugged your curves while the skirt was flowing against your knees and the lacy black socks reached where your dress ended. His eyes darted back up to yours, knowing very well that you knew he was staring.
“Well?” You tilted your head as you dried your hair with your towel, squeezing gently at the ends. You were ignoring his eyes, no doubt, but he knew you saw him. Part of him was glad you didn’t say anything, but part of him wondered what teasing remark you would have made if he had woken you up like a normal person.
“Thought it’d be weird if your grandparents ended up comin’ early and saw me there without you,” Bucky blurted out, snapping his eyes to the clock as he finished his sentence. There were only nine minutes left until seven and the doorbell chimed through the cabin, proving his point right. You hummed and went back into the bathroom, coming back a few minutes later without your towel and hair combed through. Bucky had to admit your hair looked beautiful in its normal state, even if you disagreed. 
“Give me a few,” you muttered out, taking a step into the closet and then out. You paced around the room for a moment, switching your path and walking into the bathroom yet again. You came out a minute later, looking no different than you had when you walked in. You changed course again, walking into your closet and came out wearing a necklace with an emerald pendant. You walked around the bed, catching Bucky’s eyes before you turned abruptly on your heels and strided over to your side of the bed. 
Bucky caught onto what you were doing and opened his mouth to tease you about. What came out was, “Calm down, doll. Your grandparents won’t hate me that much.”
You stopped folding the blanket and gave him a look. “I didn’t even think about you, James.” Something in that confession stung, but you continued on. “I know that you’ll charm your way through them. You’ve been doing great with the kids and Matthew and Tania and my parents, so your behaviour hasn’t even crossed my mind.” You started to fold up the blanket again, crossing from in front of Bucky as you moved to the other side to fix up the bed. Bucky got up and grabbed the other side of the blanket, holding it up to make you look at him. 
“Then what’s got you so tense?” Bucky asked, furrowing his eyebrows. If it wasn’t him that was putting you on edge, then he wanted to know what was. Your shoulders sagged slightly before you crumpled down on the ground, arms on the bed. Bucky bit the inside of his cheek, debating his next actions carefully. You let out a defeated sigh and Bucky dropped the blanket, walking over to sit beside you. You turned to look at him, a tired expression on your face. 
“My grandma’s the real reason you’re even here, James.” You shifted a bit, the ground feeling way too hard compared to the bed. Bucky’s eyes darted down to your legs, just for a split second, but you caught onto it. You swallowed down the warm feeling that spread through your chest, knowing it was a natural instinct for humans’ eyes to be drawn towards movement. “She’s… conservative. She doesn’t like modern things and she definitely doesn’t like what I do.”
“What you do?” Bucky’s voice was tense and strained with anger and you were momentarily left confused. 
“Yeah. She, uh, doesn’t see fashion the way I do. Honestly, we don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of stuff.” You let out a bitter chuckle with a shake of your head. “It caused a few arguments when I was younger. My grandma would criticise my art and my mom would go to defend it. But grandma didn’t have any of it. She blamed my mom for raising me like that. I guess—I guess at one point, my mom was tired of defending me and herself and what-not, so she made me put away everything. My drawings, paintings, and the supplies got put into the basement for a few years. Up until highschool, I was attending art classes that my grandma thought were extra math practice. My dad didn’t really give a shit as long as I was happy. 
“And I was. I used to sketch in my notebooks and paint in art class. I took art courses in high school and then took this fashion class where we learnt how to sew and use different fabrics. It helped a lot when my dad had a room cleared out in the basement where I could paint. When my grandma started to argue with him, he stood beside me and told her that I was happy. She and grandpa moved out a while after that. I sometimes think that she hates me because I was the reason she and her son had a drift. I know they didn’t talk for a few months, but by Christmas they’d started talking again.”
You wiped at the few tears that had streaked your cheeks. “I know it doesn’t seem like much compared to what you’ve—”
“Don’t do that,” Bucky interrupted quietly. His eyes flickered around your face as you felt a rush of heat in your cheeks. You wondered if he could see your skin darken with colour or not. “Everybody’s got their stories and trauma. It doesn’t matter whose trauma is heavier or whose is more visible. It’s still a trauma, no matter what.” You blinked at him, nodding slowly as you understood the meaning behind his words. 
“I think we should get going,” you sighed, pushing your hands against the mattress to hoist yourself to your feet. 
“Does your grandma still disagree with you?” Bucky’s genuine concern made you produce a weak smile in return as he got up from his spot. 
“Sometimes,” you replied. “They don’t blow up anymore like they used to. It’s more of a, uh, discussion. I made her sound like a complete monster, to be honest. She wasn’t that bad. She took care of me more times than my mom did. She used to remember to give me medicines when my mom would be at work. Brought me fruits and snacks when I had a busy day. She did all of the things you would expect a grandma to do, just that she didn’t see art the way I did.”
“Does she see it the way you do now?”
“I’d hope so,” you said simply, lifting a shoulder before letting it drop. You picked up your phone from the bed as Bucky picked his phone up from the night table. “Text me if grandpa or grandma ask anything and you need to let me know. Or come and save you the embarrassment.” You smirked and opened the door, letting yourself out before Bucky. 
“More like be the embarrassment,” Bucky teased lightheartedly. “Remember the time you slipped and landed in Steve’s lap?” 
You groaned and mumbled, “Don’t remind me.”
“Or the time you stumbled over Tony’s feet and landed in—”
“Shut up.”
“—Scott’s lap. That happened—”
“Shut up!” 
“—on the same day, right? Oh, and—”
“Barnes!” 
“—you spilled your drink on Jane.”
“I hate you,” you grumbled with no real bite, taking the last step down and turning to enter the kitchen. The loud chatter was definitely coming from there and you knew you couldn’t avoid the smell of panini’s any longer. Bucky grasped your hand, intertwining them with his left hand without any hesitation. Your heart skipped a beat at the gesture as he tugged your hand, urging you forward so that he wasn’t the first one that your grandparents saw. 
“Y/N!” Your grandma said, getting the kitchen to quiet down and smiling widely at you before her eyes landed on Bucky. Suddenly the tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. “Who is this?” 
“This—this is James,” you stuttered, nervously tugging on Bucky’s hand to get his attention. Bucky wanted to say that you always have his attention, but he kept that thought to himself.
“It’s Bucky, ma’am,” Bucky added, sending a charming smile at her despite his stomach turning and twisting. 
Your grandma made a face at his statement. “Do you have two names?” Bucky shook his head, hand squeezing your tighter than he wanted it to. 
You answer. 
“His middle name is Buchanan, grandma. Steve gave him the nickname when he was younger.” You gave him a reassuring glance—he didn’t deserve it, he thought—and looked at your mom for a bit of support. 
“Do you want some more, ma?” You mom tried, sending you a look to say that she had your back no matter what. You shifted closer to Bucky, tucking your other hand into the crook of his elbow and caressing your thumb on his hand over the cool metal plates to ground yourself. You felt him tense and you went to move away with the thought of crossing a boundary, but Bucky stopped your arm from escaping by capturing your forearm between his arm and torso. 
Stay. 
“Nah, I want some answers,” your grandma replied with a wave of her hand. Your mom deflated at the answer, making her way back to the stove as Tania and a sleepy looking Matthew placed their dishes into the sink and walked into the living room. It was then you noticed that your dad and grandpa were nowhere to be found. “How’d this happen?” 
“We met through Nat and Steve,” you answered, moving to sit down at the island. Bucky took the liberty to pull out your stool with his free hand before taking a seat on your right. His flesh hand found its way to weave into yours and you gave a sweet squeeze. 
Thank you. 
“Ah, that big handsome blond with blue eyes?” 
You bit your lip and nodded. You could see her eyes scanning Bucky and comparing him to Steve. And you wanted to say something, but that would mean letting Bucky know of what your grandma was doing. So you stayed quiet. 
“How long?” Your grandma pried her eyes away from Bucky and looked at you. Your hand involuntarily twitched in Bucky’s, making Bucky look down at you and squeeze it. 
I got this.
“Roughly six months,” he said with a boyish grin at you. His grin made butterflies erupt in your stomach and you found yourself smiling without noticing until your grandma cleared her throat. 
“When’s the anniversary date?” You squeezed Bucky’s hand, feeling like you were floating. 
You go.
“Well, we became official on June 25, so…” Bucky trailed off with a cheeky smile, looking at your grandma this time with his eyes flickering over to you for a second. “Christmas would officially be six months.” 
“Here you go, dears,” your mom cut in, placing plates in front of your two with paninis. “Eat up before they get cold, you two. I already had to reheat them after your dad made them.” 
Thankful for the interruption, you let go of Bucky’s hand and picked one up, biting into it before your grandma could ask something else. About halfway through your first one, Bucky’s hand came up to your chin, wiping some cheese off of your bottom lip with his thumb. Your breath hitched in your throat and you wondered if it was his instinct or his act. He sent a smile your way when you raised an eyebrow at him and let his eyes flit over to your grandma. You blinked and dived back into your panini. 
Once you finished, you were spared more questions from your grandma by your dad and grandpa walking into the kitchen. 
“Y/N! My sweetie pie!” Your grandpa moved towards you, hugging you around the shoulders and swaying slightly. He held one of your shoulders before he grabbed his cane again and extended his hand to Bucky. “You must be Bucky. D/N told me your name and the fact that I haven’t forgotten it means a lot, ‘kay?”
Bucky nodded with a smile, knowing exactly where your dad had gotten the lightness. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Your grandpa shook his hand firmly, not caring about the cool metal plates. 
“Nice grip, young man,” your grandpa said, smiling and, once again, reminding him of your dad. He lowered his voice and whispered, “Haven’t met another veteran in a couple of years so it’s great to meet you.” Bucky’s smile faltered before his eyes fell down to your grandpa’s legs for just a second. His eyes met your grandpa’s understanding ones and his smile warmed up. 
“Let’s head into the living room,” your dad said, “if you don’t want more paninis.” He raised an eyebrow at you and you shook your head, giggling. He nodded and ushered everyone into the living room where there were enough seats for everyone. Your grandma and grandpa sat together with you and Bucky across from them with the twins on one end of the sofa. Your dad sat down with your mom and Matthew was sitting on an armchair with Tania sitting between his legs. 
“Tell us about yourself, Bucky,” your grandpa offered politely, waving his hand towards him as he placed his cane against the sofa. 
“I’m none too interesting, sir,” Bucky said nervously, exchanging a glance with you. 
“I’m sure you’ve got something. Steve is your best friend, right?” Your grandpa raised an eyebrow and Bucky waited for the part where they ask for Steve’s stories as a child. “You can't have been less troublesome than him. What shit did you get yourself into?” 
Bucky was left speechless for a moment. “Uh, not as much as him.” He ended up intertwining his hand into yours with a chuckle. He gave you an adoring expression, one that made your heart skip a few beats. 
“That was a given,” your grandpa teased, shrugging, “but there’s gotta be something you can’t forget doing.”
“Yeah, uh, there’s something.” Bucky licked his lips, knowing he had everyone’s attention. He was the limelight and, shit, all he could do was look at you. “There was this girl back in Steve’s first year at college, before I was shipped out. She was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen, and I swore it to my ma. She told me to go for it, tell her how much I, uh, liked her, but then I was shipped. Didn’t see her for a few years and found out she was takin’. Like a bullet to the shoulder if I’m bein’ honest.”
Bucky paused, taking a glance around, even though he knew everyone was staring at him and you. “Probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, not tell her how I felt about her. I guess it was good in a way ‘cause she would’ve been alone for two years after I said anything.”
Everyone stayed silent for a second before Matthew made a groaning noise. 
“I didn’t need to hear that about my sister, man,” he mumbled, throwing his head back and groaning once again. Your mom went to scold him and your dad went to stop her. All while you were staring at Bucky, smiling widely to make your cheeks hurt. 
You knew it was a white lie, but something about his words gave you hope that he didn’t hate you. 
———
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Your cousin, Hailey, came with her husband, Jake, and their kids, five-year-old Vanessa and two-year-old Dylan. She was showing off her baby bump to your grandma—you resisted an eye roll at your grandma’s snide remarks aimed for you—and you and Tania took care of the kids. Bucky, Matthew, and Jake had left the scene for a while, coming back for dinner smelling like snow. You had ushered them up for showers the second they walked into the living room. You wanted to ask Bucky about the smell and if anyone had asked him anything, but Hailey had wanted to whisk you away to plan a late night movie with you. 
You added in Home Alone like always, throwing in How the Grinch Stole Christmas because you knew that Bucky would like it. Hailey raised an eyebrow at the movie suggestion, but chose not to ponder more on it as she moved onto snacks and blankets. You had proposed caramel popcorn, knowing that your dad had bought some yesterday. Hailey had nodded and added it to her list on the paper. She went on to talk about sitting arrangements as well but you knew that was going to change when everyone sat down where they wanted to. 
Nearing ten o’clock, your grandparents retired to bed and your parents followed suit. You sat on a two-seater in your pyjamas, having to take another long shower because of some glitter from Vanessa. You saw Bucky raise an eyebrow as Hailey and Tania took the kids upstairs, leaving you between the men. 
“What’s going on, doll?” Bucky asked, amused by how quickly Hailey had wanted the kids to go to bed. He looked up at you from where he was sitting on the floor, against the sofa where Vanessa had been playing with his hair. 
You smiled tiredly and shrugged. “Hailey planned out a whole movie night.”
“Again?” Jake groaned, rolling his eyes before they widened. “Don’t tell her I said that.” 
You made a motion of zipping your lips and smiled. You beckoned Bucky over, scooting away from the armrest and patting the space next to you. He sighed when he got up, stretching and wincing when he heard his bones crack. You snickered and called him an old man under your breath. He gave you a playful glare and walked over to sit between you and the armrest, slinging an arm over the back of the sofa. You fell into his side with his weight dipping into the couch, not really caring much for the way Matthew gagged.
“What movie is it?” Bucky looked at you for an answer. 
“I have no clue. She asked me—”
“You said Home Alone, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Of course.” Bucky rolled his eyes, receiving a weak slap to his chest from you. 
“I also said How the Grinch Stole Christmas, jerk,” you finished your sentence, narrowing your eyes, daring him to utter another word while you were talking. “You’re welcome.” You huffed and leaned against his side, facing the TV that was playing Paw Patrol from the twins and Vanessa’s insistence. Bucky’s arm fell from the sofa, landing on your shoulder before he snaked it around, his fingers brushing your collarbone in the process, and pulled you to lay your entire weight on his side. 
You didn’t fight the gesture, knowing that Matthew’s eyes were definitely on you two. When he groaned and sulked on the sofa, you said, “Stop doing that, Matthew. You know nothing’s worse than what happened on your wedding day.” 
“I’ll stop if you swear never to bring that up ever again,” Matthew mumbled, grimacing at the memory. You snickered and brought your hands up to hold onto Bucky’s arm as you stretched your legs out, hanging over the armrest. With your movement, Bucky’s arm dropped to your stomach, tightening his grip there. Your arms rested right on top of his. 
“You’re not gonna swear it, are you?” Matthew questioned, even though it looked like he knew the answer. 
“Nope,” you replied, popping the ‘p’ and grinning at him, “and you can’t do anything about it.” You stuck your tongue out at him, scrunching your nose and crossing your eyes. You yelped when Matthew threw a pillow at you. However, Bucky had easily caught it with his left hand and smirked at your small gasp. He glanced down, giving you a smug look. 
“I think you owe me a kiss, doll,” he flirted, placing the pillow in his lap and glanced up at the other two men. Tania and Hailey happened to catch his declaration when they came down the stairs, grinning at your shocked face. 
“If you hit him, I’ll give it a thought,” you retorted and squirmed in your spot, turning around to face him and tucking your legs underneath you. Bucky gave you a mischievous smirk, his eyes glinting and darting to Matthew. Before you could comprehend it, Bucky had hit Matthew square in the face, earning a glare and eye roll from Matthew. Tania and Hailey, on the other, awed and cooed, waiting for the kiss. 
“Sorry, man. Couldn’t pass up on an opportunity to kiss my best girl,” Bucky apologised to Matthew with a shrug. “You owe me a kiss, babydoll.” Bucky looked over at you, raising an eyebrow. Your heart jumped at the new nickname. 
Are you okay with this?
Instead of answering his question, you cupped his cheek and placed your lips on his. His lips were soft and gentle, warm against your colder ones. He quickly kissed you back, hands landing on your hips to pull you closer to him. You were well aware of his hand travelling up your spine to cup the back of your neck and the way your leg was now thrown over one of his. You were somewhat aware of Matthew pretending to be disgusted and the women aweing. As the breath in both of you ran out, you both pulled away at the same time, but Bucky tugged on your bottom lip before letting it go. 
Bucky drew his head back to take a good look at you. Your eyes were shut lightly, eyelashes fluttering against your cheekbone. Your lips were redder and slightly swollen, giving Bucky’s ego a small boost at the thought of doing that to you. When your eyes fluttered open, his breath caught in his throat, seeing your pupils dilate at the sight of him. He didn’t deserve you, but, god did he want you. And he’d be damned if someone else had you before him. You blinked and took your hands off of his chest, the skin on your cheeks turning darker with blush. 
He swore he had never seen anything more beautiful. 
“That was so cute!” Hailey squealed quietly so that she didn’t wake the kids up. She turned to Jake with a slight pout—she would blame the hormones. “They’re even cuter than us, aren’t they?” 
You realised you were still straddling his thigh and got off, making his hands fall from you. You didn’t move far from him, thinking that the others would get suspicious if you were to dart to the other side of the couch—or room. You sat next to him, folding your legs so that you leaned into his side and his arm could be slung behind your shoulders. He did so, rubbing your shoulder.
Was this okay? 
You placed a hand over his, squeezing lightly. 
Yeah, don’t worry. 
Hailey jumped up, earning herself a few carefuls from everyone. Jake just looked exasperated by her behaviour, leaning further into the sofa. She came back from the kitchen with a plastic container and some squares of paper. 
“I wrote a few Christmas movies. There’s The Nightmare Before Christmas, Home Alone, Scrooge, The Christmas Chronicles, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, The Polar Express, and Miracle on 34th Street,” Hailey recited, reading and dropping each square into the plastic bowl. “Get snacks before we do the draw. If we all don’t wanna watch it, we skip it and redo it.”
Everyone nodded and got up to get snacks, including you and Bucky. The kitchen was a bit crowded so you and Bucky took a seat on the island stools, waiting for the others to grab their snacks and move along. Bucky put his head down on the island. Matthew tried to grab your caramel popcorn, but Tania smacked his hand and scolded him before you could say anything. Hailey was trying to grab everything sugary, but Jake was bargaining and begging for her to leave a couple of the candies she picked up. She had almost thrown a fit, but stopped when Jake gave her sweet kisses and picked her up to get her back into the living room. 
“What do you want, James?” You asked, sliding off the stool and rummaging through the cupboards. 
“Caramel popcorn,” he responded, voice muffled from how he was positioned. He was hunched over the island and his forehead was pressed against his bicep while his arms wrapped around his head as a pillow. You were surprised at his answer, but poured enough popcorn for the two of you. 
“Anything else?” You had to look over at him to see his head moving side-to-side. 
You cocked your head to the side, wondering what was going on. You bit the inside of your cheek, debating what to do. If Bucky was tired, you weren’t going to force him to stay there and sit through a movie he may not even want to watch. You placed the bowl in front of Bucky, a bit away just in case he decided to stretch his arms, and placed your hand on his shoulder, feeling his muscles relax under your touch. 
“We don’t have to stay up late if you don’t want to,” you whispered gently, watching him pick his head up and place his chin where his forehead had been. 
“Nah,” Bucky started, shaking his head and grabbing your hand with his metal ones. He placed his lips on your knuckles, just a fleeting brush that had your heart skipping a few beats. “I’ll be fine. I can stay up a little, mom.”
Rolling your eyes, you weren’t able to keep your lips from twitching. “You sure?” You watched his hair fall into his eyes, instinctively tucking behind his ears, as he nodded his head moving back, chuckling quietly. “Okay. Let’s go then.” 
Making it back to the living room, you saw that Hailey and Jake had taken up the three-seater across from the TV and Matthew and Tania took the two-seater on the left side of the room. So you and Bucky headed to the other two-seater that was on the right side. Bucky flopped down first, swinging a leg up to stretch it across vertically as much as he could—which wasn’t a lot and left his leg bent. You raised an eyebrow as you placed the popcorn on the coffee table. Bucky took up a smug smirk and expression, grabbing your wrist and tugging you down. You fell in the ‘v’ of his legs and he swung his other leg up as if to lock you in place.
“I’m doing the draw,” Hailey sang, not letting you ponder on the way his firm chest was pressed up against your back. You leaned over, Bucky’s hand coming to your hip to prevent you from falling, to grab the bowl of popcorn. “The Nightmare Before Christmas!” 
You shrugged, not really caring much. Bucky and Matthew groaned simultaneously. You and the others looked amused with how much they were getting along. You especially were surprised, knowing that Matthew could become that overprotective older brother when it came to boyfriends. He was even more on edge whenever you told him about a date after Brock. 
 Hailey was about to get up to grab the blankets she had set aside, but Tania stopped her and grabbed the three blankets, giving them to everyone. You threw yours over Bucky’s legs with a skip of your heart and laid back as Bucky brought the bowl back down in front of you. You shifted in your place a bit, trying to find a comfortable place, and popped a piece of popcorn in your mouth. Bucky reached around you to grab a piece as Hailey put on the movie. 
As the movie played on, you found yourself relaxing against Bucky, occasionally making a comment when the characters did or said something you could criticise. Bucky would also whisper or mumble out something that made you giggle. When the movie got to the part where Jack decides that Christmas was supposed to be improved, you had shifted and laid your head against Bucky’s chest, trying to keep your focus on the movie rather than Bucky’s heartbeat. As Jack tried to take over Christmas, Bucky’s arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you impossibly close to him and occasionally grabbing popcorn. You felt your eyes droop close, the almost empty bowl slipping from your hands. 
Bucky grabbed the bowl just before it emptied whatever few pieces were in there on the sofa and glanced down at you. Your head was laying against his right shoulder, making it easier for him to see your sleeping face. Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed on their own, confused how you were the first one to go to sleep. He couldn’t even remember the last time you had fallen asleep before everyone. He could still remember the day Sam had the great—not really—idea to bet on who would be the last to sleep. Bucky had bet on you immediately. 
Now that you were the first to sleep, it made him notice how tired you looked after your grandma went to bed. Your eyes had wandered with her the entire day, as if you were waiting for her to attack you. Anytime she was around you or talking to you, you would tense up, making a posture that he knew was a manner statement to your grandma. She had eyed him the entire day too, so when Matthew and Jake invited him to play hockey—even though it was an odd number that way—he took up the offer. They each shifted turns every now and then when they thought that the other might need a break. When they had come back, you had pushed them upstairs and, despite your obvious distressed state, you acted like everything was okay. He knew your slightest giveaways when you were stressed. 
There was a slight pinch in your eyebrows and you tended to pick at your nails. The way you kept your eyes darting around rather than fixated on one thing for too long. Even when you were cutting the vegetables, you had stopped every now and then just to take a look around. 
“She’s asleep?” Matthew sounded like he couldn’t believe his eyes. When Bucky looked over at him, he didn’t look like he believed it either. But Bucky only focused on the volume of his voice. He held up a finger to his lips, giving him an apologetic look. Matthew seemed to understand, nodding. Bucky smiled and turned back to the movie, not moving just in case you woke up because he knew that you, unlike him, were a light sleeper. 
———
The movie came to an end and everyone started to get up to go to bed. Matthew and Tania were able to walk straight even though they looked exhausted—Bucky suspected it was training courtesy of the twins and Ariel. Hailey needed some persuasion from Jake, but got up and started up the stairs, mumbling out a quick goodnight to everyone. Bucky only waved at all of them, not wanting to wake you up even a second before he needed to. 
When he was sure that everyone was gone, the only lightsource was a light in the hallway, he whispered your name, moving your hair out of your face. Your arms loosened around his torso, humming and letting your eyes flutter open. You took a second to process where you were and what you had been doing there in the first place, rubbing your eye to get rid of some sleep. 
“Shoulda woke me up,” you murmured softly, not that you meant it. Bucky wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you looked completely adorable when you woke up. He had noticed it yesterday morning, when the twins had barged in, watching in awe as you seemed to glow and entrance him. 
“It’s fine, doll,” Bucky whispered, keeping his voice low since he knew it was hoarse without use. “I don’t mind being a human pillow for a bit.” 
“Still.” You didn’t elaborate more and neither did you move from your spot. Bucky thought you would have pushed yourself away by now, but he didn’t get to mull over it when you yawned and started to sleep again. 
“We should go now,” he mumbled, not really wanting to separate you from him. You nodded and straightened up while he waited for you to get up so that he didn’t kick you with his leg. You made no move to get up and Bucky forced himself to sit up, inching his leg closer to him. Once he was sure he wasn’t going to hit you, he pushed himself to his feet, holding out a hand for you. He watched you consider his hand for a second, glancing up at him with those big E/C eyes. Then you placed your hand in his and he pulled you to your feet, tugging a bit too much and letting you crash into his chest. 
You looked flustered, but he thought you had had enough for today. You seemed dead on your feet even with the dazed expression on your face. Bucky debated his options and opted to pick you up bridal style, hearing a surprised gasp fall from your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, his arms underneath your neck and knees, and blinked at him twice. 
“James, you don’t—”
“It’s fine,” Bucky interrupted your protests, giving you a look as he started for the stairs. “Remember what I told you yesterday? I’m too strong.” 
You snorted weakly at that, resting your head against his shoulder and catching Bucky’s reference to when the twins woke him up. “I wasn’t even trying that time.” 
“Sure.” 
“That was the most sarcastic ‘sure’ I’ve ever heard.”
“Sue me.” 
“Maybe I will.”
“You gonna get a lawyer for me? That’s so sweet.”
“Sweet as lemons.”
“Guess it’s a good thing I like lemonade then.”
“I’ll put a bowl full of salt in your lemonade, Barney.” 
Bucky groaned as he gestured for you to open the door. You opened it and Bucky placed you on your feet once the door was closed. 
“I’m using the bathroom first,” you declared before rushing to get in before he could even utter a single word. He grinned at the closed door. Yeah, he was a goner. 
———
The bed dipped beside you and you knew Bucky had come out of the bathroom. “Goodnight, James.” You heard the lamp knob click and you heard him shuffling around. You turned to face him and saw his bright blue eyes staring into yours, making your breath hitch in your throat.
“Goodnight, doll.” Catching your breath, you smiled tiredly and closed your eyes, letting yourself slip into darkness once again. 
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buckyalpine · 1 day
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Ok so I have a request, but bear with me because I can’t find the prompt list I had seen about it 😩
Basically it was about how in real life, things happen or go wrong during sex that make it more silly. There was a whole list of things that might happen, but I can only remember two of them. One was like someone being too ticklish and the other was body parts making weird noises. Hopefully you at least get the picture with those two examples 😂
I love the idea of sex being fun and silly sometimes and thought it would be really sweet with Bucky :)
18+ This is so cute. I love all of this so much. Awkward sex positions. Queefs. 
Bucky giggled.
Giggled.
You looked up at him with curious eyes, a devilish little smile flashed across your face as you went back for the same spot. Your lips nipped and teased his neck where he was most sensitive, making him squirm and wriggle under you.
"It tickles!!" He tucked his chin against his chest, his face flushed from smiling while you straddled him with an amused look on your face.
"I didn't know super soldiers were so ticklish" You grinned, poking his side, making him yelp. He grabbed you and flipped you over, trapping you under him.
"Mhm, and what about you baby" You squealed at the feeling of his beard rubbing in the crook of your neck, desperately trying to wiggle away from him while he held you down, laughing and nuzzling his face into your more. "Do I get to feel all of you now sweet girl" 
He pulled away, resting his forehead on yours, his hard length pressed against your tummy, precum making a mess on your skin. You moaned softly, nodding and spreading your legs for him.
"Ow" Your face scrunched slightly, as he spread your legs a little further, your body not as warmed up and flexible as since it was still earlier in the day. 
"Sorry sweets, you okay?" You hummed as he pulled your legs to wrap around his waist, pushing his cock into you slowly. "You feel perfect angel" He started off slow, feeling your body with his hands, smiling against your skin each time you clung onto him harder. 
"Faster baby" You moaned, pulling him down to kiss his sweet lips, your arms draped around his shoulders. He pounded you against the mattress, his cock slamming in and out of you, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in. 
"Come here baby" He pulled out of you, yanking you and bending you over the bed, stuffing his cock right back in you to fuck you from behind. 
How you hated the switch from missionary to doggy.
You adored how Bucky could hit your exact spot, except it usually also came with him literally fucking air into you in the process. You blinked, groaning at the way your body just refused to cooperate while with each thrust, the sound that kept escaping your pussy wasn’t something that could be hidden. 
Bucky giggled. 
With each thrust, he couldn’t help but snicker at the sound while admiring the soft flesh of your ass jiggle each time he pulled your hips back. 
"Did you just laugh?!" You couldn't help but laugh yourself, your boyfriend trying to hold in his little giggles while giving you gentle thrusts.
"Can't help it baby" He shrugged, massaging your thighs, his mind now wandering to something else he had wanted to try for a while. "Can-can I fuck you against the wall?"
You blinked back him while he bit his lip, hoping you'd say yes. He was still learning about things he enjoyed during sex and you were the safest most loving person he had ever been with. 
"Don't drop me Barnes" You nodded, standing up and padding over to a wall that wasn't near anything so you wouldn't knock anything over.
"I won't drop you" Bucky scoffed, you weighed nothing to him. It wasn't until you were in his arms did he realize it wasn't weight that was an issue and that there was an art to fucking one against the wall.
"How-how do i-" He grunted, lifting you with both arms, when realizing he wasn’t skilled enough just yet to put his dick in you without using his hand. He tried for a second, awkwardly rubbing his tip against your pussy while you held onto him for dear life, unable to understand how anyone enjoyed this position when it took so much effort. 
“Is it in yet?”
“I would know if it was in Bucky” 
“Damn right you would” Cocky bastard. 
“Will you stop priding yourself in your dick size for a second and just use your hand to stick it in” 
“Greedy now aren’t we” 
“Barnes, just use your hand to put it in and fuck me” 
Bucky snorted, managing to shift you so he held you up with his metal arm, lining his cock up with your entrance. He pushed into you, both of you gasping at the feeling as he filled you, both hands now gripping onto your ass and thighs. 
Once he got into the rhythm, he couldn't help but lose himself, loving the way you moaned and fluttered around him, the soft thumps against the wall only spurring him on more. Now you understood why people loved this position. 
"I'm gona-f-fuck I'm gonna cum" He moaned, his cock throbbing, fucking you faster, sweat beading at his forehead.
"Hold it, fuck keep going Bucky! Don’t stop-" You whined but it was too late, fuck you felt too good.
It was like a cum now button as soon as you told him don’t stop, keep going, his balls tightened against his body, cum bursting out of his cock, spilling his load into you. 
"I-HNggg-FucK I’m cumming” He moaned, stilling his movements, panting while still holding you up. "Sorry" He blushed, smiling shy at you while you snorted, shaking your head. 
"I told you to keep going!"
"Well, why do you feel so good" He rolled your eyes, carrying you over and dropping you onto the bed, throwing your thighs over his shoulders, pressing a sloppy kiss onto your soaked clit. 
"Now hold still while I make you cum pretty girl"
Tags:
@glxwingrxse  @hungryyeyess  @sebsgirl71479  @beabutterfly987  @teambarnes72  @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass  @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan  @buggy14  @whimsyplaty92  @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec   @pono-pura-vida   @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z  @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog  @happyt0exist   @emmabarnes  @bethyruth @matchat3a  @cjand10   @getwellsoontana  @cherryschaos   @lokisasgardianvampirequeen  @ashenc-blog  @buckybarnessimpp   @potatothots  @goldylions  @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog  @kingfleury  @peaches1958  @spiderman-stilinski  @peaceinourtime82  @gublur   @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46   @lolawassad  @almosttoopizza   @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess   @buckycallsmeaslut  @kamaria-sweet-writes  @charmedbysarge    @xnorthstar3x  @kryoee7 @alina02  @gh0stgurl  @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant @chemtrails-club
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jadedvibes · 2 months
Text
Marked
Summary: Your secret relationship is nearly exposed when Natasha spots Bucky's neck covered in hickeys.
Pairing: Beefy!Bucky x reader
Warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected rough sex, lots of hickeys, swearing, pet names, fluffy feels, very minor angst, protective natasha, avengers tower au, beefy!bucky (he needs a warning).
Word Count: 1.3k
Like, comment, and/or reblog to put a giant smile on my face ♡
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“Hey babe, I’m really sorry,” Nat sat down beside you on the couch, looking at you with a sad smile. 
You furrowed your brows, trying to process her words. What did she have to be sorry for?
“Um, why?” 
“Because of you-know-who,” she subtly nodded her head towards Bucky chatting with Sam in the kitchen. He was laughing at something Sam had said, and despite the fact that he was wearing a hoodie, the hickeys on his neck were still visible. She knew you couldn’t miss those prominent love bites. 
Nat was well aware of the giant crush you had on the dark-haired supersoldier, and she also thought that those feelings were requited. Bucky had seemed entirely enamored by you ever since you joined the team. She couldn’t believe he would do that, especially because everyone including him knew how you felt. You must have felt terrible about the whole situation.
“Oh,” biting your lip, you willed yourself not to react. Nat could read you like a book and you didn’t want her to know about the sordid details of this chapter. Not yet at least. “He’s a grown up, and he can do whatever he wants,” you stood up in haste, giving her a nod before walking back to your room. 
She missed the wink Bucky shot you, and the way you smiled at the ground as you left. 
Bucky assured you that the marks would heal fast, giving you free rein to do whatever you wanted to him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t fast enough. 
“What the hell?” Nat muttered under her breath. She figured his actions must have hurt you so much that you couldn’t even properly react to it. Deciding to confront the man himself, she stormed into the kitchen, pulling out a chair and sitting next to Sam. 
She glared at Bucky as he finished up his story, catching the eyes of both men. Sam exchanged a look with Bucky, neither having any idea why she was staring like that. 
Bucky grinned at Nat cautiously, “What’s up?” 
“She was literally in the room, and you couldn’t think to maybe pull your hood on, or wear a scarf?”
“Nat,” he tried to think of an explanation, but the truth wasn’t his to tell. You asked him not to. “It’s no big deal,” he lied. 
His time with you was everything, and he couldn’t fight the flashback his brain had of you in his lap the night before sucking and biting his neck as you rode him. If only Nat could see the state of your chest and the marks that you had thanks to him, she’d know there were no hurt feelings. 
Sam watched on, trying to keep his face neutral because he already knew about the two of you. He’d seen Bucky slip out of your room a few mornings ago, however he respected your privacy and kept your secret. Although, he had no problem teasing Bucky about it when you weren’t around. 
“Live your life, but you could be more respectful of her feelings,” she said before standing up and leaving. 
Bucky pursed his lips as he looked at Sam. 
“Should’ve covered it up, man,” Sam smirked. 
Nodding his head, “Yeah, for her sake.”
“What are you guys waiting for?” 
He shrugged his shoulders, “I’m letting her set the pace, it’s up to her.” 
┈┈┈┈┈・・
“Fuck, Bucky,” you cried out as his powerful hips snapped into you at a relentless pace. The sheer look of pleasure and determination on his face made you shudder as you watched him take you apart. Your legs wrapped around his waist, an impulse for more; to be closer, to be consumed. 
Metal fingers began to circle your clit, making your body contract beneath him. 
“Oh baby,” you whimpered. He fucked you like a god, a self-assured divine being. 
Bucky smirked, “Do you like that?” His fingers continued their sweet torture as he took what he needed. With each fierce thrust he brought you closer, to your end, to his soul. 
Unable to speak, you watched your perfect man lose himself inside of you. 
It hit like lightning striking your body, electrifying every nerve with blissful euphoria. You threw your head back as you heard your pulse ring in your ears, wet walls squeezing tight around his cock. 
Unable to think, simply feeling the sensory overload. 
He groaned out your name as his hips stuttered erratically. Pushing impossibly deeper, he came hard. Shuddering his release, pumping himself empty inside his favorite place. 
Collapsing on top of you, he kissed you softly before turning you on your side as he stayed nestled inside of you. 
Dark blue eyes connected with yours, his thumb dusting over your bottom lip. 
Tangling your hands into his hair, you pulled him closer, pressing your lips to his. Tongue sliding between his parted lips, chest pressed against his, close. 
This was where you were supposed to be. 
Bucky pulled back and playfully started peppering your face with kisses. Down your jawline, all over your cheeks, on your nose, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. 
“Bucky!” you tried to grab his face. But he wouldn’t relent, gripping the back of your neck, kissing you until you were squealing in laughter. 
He loved that sound, he adored seeing you so happy. How Nat could ever think that he’d go for any other girl was not something he could comprehend. Bucky only had eyes for you. 
“Doll,” he kissed your lips before letting you catch your breath. He couldn’t wait any longer, he had to know. “What are we doing?” 
“What do you mean?” you whispered. 
“Why are we hiding this?” 
You sighed. “Because I want this to be our thing for a while longer, we’re having fun aren’t we?” you grinned, not understanding his concern. 
“Of course we are, but… this is more than just fun for me,” his eyes searched yours. 
Oh this sweet, soft man. 
“Then we’ll tell the team, we can tell anyone you want.” 
“Really?” he beamed. 
“Yes, really. It’s more for me too, I don’t want you to think for a moment that it isn’t. I didn’t want anyone casting doubts on us – but I’m sure about you, so it’s okay.” 
“Thank you, I can only take so much mad-dogging from Nat,” he breathed a sigh of relief. Although, his true solace came from the knowledge that the feeling in his heart was reciprocated – he was damn well certain about you too. 
“Right, because that’s your thing, isn’t it tough guy?” you teased. His penchant for staring often intimidated others, but you knew the kind-hearted man under the hard exterior. 
Bucky narrowed his eyes, rolling you on top of him in one swift movement. His hardened length still inside of you told you that the time for talking had ended. Your hands fell onto his strong, broad chest as you held yourself up, ready to take him for a ride. 
His fiery gaze landed on your breasts, the heat from his stare capable of scorching the earth. He ran his warm fingers over the fading marks he’d left from the night before, admiring them. 
Desire flooded your body and when your eyes locked, an idea came to your mind. “Why don’t you bite my neck?” you raised an eyebrow. 
He sat up, the offer one he wasn’t willing to pass. Bucky trailed his lips along your jaw, nibbling his way down until he whispered, “Only if you promise to bite me back,” he licked up your neck. 
With a racing heart, you circled your hips before grinding down on him. “Deal.” 
There was no point in concealing this connection that meant so much to the both of you. And as his teeth bit down on your skin, a rush of arousal ran through you. The sting of his possession, the way he felt so deep inside you; this was it.
The two of you would likely tell your friends the following day about your relationship – or they could just take a look at the matching marks on your necks that let them know exactly who you belonged to. 
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Text
Hold My Girl
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Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Summary: Bucky comes home from a mission and needs time to hold his girl.
Word count: 2k
Warnings: So much fluff in Bucky’s pov <3
a/n: I love feedback!! Please let me know what you think, it gives me motivation to write more :) Got lotsss of inspo from the song ‘Hold My Girl’ by George Ezra.
Masterlist
~~
Fall was a finicky season. 
One day hot, the next a damp, dim breeze, the weeks that made up November were a myriad of change. You could smell it in the air and see it in the way the cars drove. Buildings kept their lights on longer, people walked slower; everything felt as if it were in limbo, waiting for the semblance of normality that would blanket the city when the sun finally left and took its morsels of warmth along with it. 
In your apartment, the change wasn’t as obvious. 
White sheets still glowed with pale light each morning. Plates still made crisp, ringing sounds each night—hot ceramic, straight from the dishwasher because Bucky couldn’t stand when they sat in there for too long. Footsteps echoed in the stairwell by the elevator. Laughs were low and plentiful, just murmurs drifting through warm vents when the moon was high. 
Things were changing, but most stayed the same. 
Bucky found a comfort in that as he trudged home from a weekend-long mission, body tired but already feeling lighter at the prospect of going home. At the thought of holding you.
Sam had talked about a home cooked meal. Steve had mentioned the gym. Natasha had gone on about some reality TV show she’d rather be watching. But nothing crossed Bucky’s mind other than holding you and watching a gloomy day turn dark, so he stayed silent as the others had reminisced about their versions of peace. 
The mission hadn’t been too hard—a lot of heavy lifting, but nothing to call home about. He actually had called home (you), but he found there were about a million things he'd rather talk about than a broken down warehouse in the middle of a dirt field. Instead, he filled the time with your voice and your stories and the sounds you made rustling around the apartment. 
Blankets shifted, cupboards closed, a window opened; you were living the life you two shared without him, and he strained his ears at each noise that gave him proof of that. God, he had wanted to go home, and now he was scaling the stairs to your apartment—his apartment—with a buzzing in his chest and an ache in his arms. 
He checked the door first, rattling the knob in his hand and mentally praising you for keeping it locked. That had been a very long conversation between the two of you, the first time he had been able to walk in without a key making him feel sick to his stomach. It was true that in the world Bucky lived in, locks were simply a false sense of security. But he wasn’t one to take chances with you, so, the tiny piece of metal was to stay in place at all times. 
It smelled like spices inside—like garlic, thyme, rosemary. 
Bucky should have known you were going to make soup. It wasn’t raining, but if you looked outside there was no way to tell the difference between the moisture in the air and the water stuck in the clouds. A gray day with no delineation between the skyline and the ground.
The perfect day for soup, you’d say. 
Bucky dropped his bag and toed off his shoes. He wore a sweater and a fitted pair of jeans, socks that trailed up his ankles under the seam of denim and no jacket. No gloves either—something very deliberate. 
Low music played in soft tones from the kitchen; you hummed and Bucky rolled his sleeves up his forearms. He padded softly on carpeted floors until he saw your back, your shoulder, the way you wore your hair. He smiled for a private moment and indulged himself in the way you looked under the waning kitchen light. 
And then you spun… spotted him and offered a melodic, “hi, baby!” as if those words weren’t a sucker punch to his already crumbling resolve. They were so quick to fall from your lips, a testament to the home Bucky had built and the roots he had laid down. He spotted two bowls on the table; two cups and two chairs placed next to each other and facing out toward the window. 
He had a home here. He was wanted. 
“You feeling okay?” you asked, a sweet furrow of your brows and an inquisitive tilt of your head bringing Bucky back to the present. 
“Hi, honey,” he said in place of an answer, because that felt like an answer to him. 
He stepped forward onto cold kitchen tiles and met you by the stove. He placed a kiss to your lips first, then your cheek and your nose. Each one had a smile tugging at your mouth and each one made Bucky’s bones feel like butter. He fought the urge to relax into you when you turned back to the pot, but then gave in anyway. 
You were his girl, and he wanted to hold you. 
Bucky’s chin fit fairly well into the crook of your neck, and his arms found their home in the dip of your waist. He breathed you in—breathed in the aroma of soup and the tinge of the weather still ingrained in his clothes—and let his lips fall against your skin, wherever they would reach. His chest felt glued to your back and he felt warm. 
“I missed you,” Bucky said. His hands spread wide along your ribs. 
“I missed you,” you replied. “Even though it was only a few days.” 
“It’s worse when it’s only a few days. Spend the whole mission counting down the hours until I can come home.” 
You hummed, leaning your head back onto his shoulder. You had a window propped open by the couch in the living room, and the slight draft shifted the curtains enough that Bucky could hear cotton brush against wood. 
“What kind of soup is this?” Bucky asked after a few moments of listening to your heart. 
You smiled, dipping a spoon into the pot. “Figure it out for yourself.” 
“Just got back from work and you’re already makin’ me do more.” Bucky’s grumble made you laugh, and the sound was enough to make him close his eyes for a moment. 
He almost missed the spoon heading for his mouth. 
Buck had absolutely no idea what kind of soup you made. It was bursting on his tongue and tasted like what home felt like, but he had no idea what he was eating. He pretended to think, taking that extra time to nudge his nose against your cheek and listen to your breathy laugh, and then promptly made something up. 
“Chicken noodle?” 
You snapped your head back to throw him a weird look. “Bucky, there are no noodles in this. And no chicken. That’s literally the entire name of the soup. Did you even try?”��
“No,” he admitted, dipping his hands beneath the hem of your shirt and feeling the warmth of your skin. “Tell me what you made, baby.” 
You could tell him he was eating stale bread for dinner and he would thank you. As long as you sat close enough for him to wrap his foot around the leg of your chair and drag you into his lap the minute you were done eating, he didn’t care what you made. 
Bucky was contemplating how efficiently you could eat soup while sitting in his lap when you replied, “Hm… nope.” 
“Nope?” he laughed, dragging you away from the stove while it simmered. 
“Nope. If you aren’t going to try, your punishment will be to eat mystery soup.” 
You spun in his arms as he leaned against the kitchen counter, palms laid flat on his chest. Bucky drew you in closer, one hand on the back of your neck, the other low on your back. A new song filtered into the room, and it was then that Bucky realized you must have bread in the oven as well. He could smell bread. 
“Honey, I used to eat military rations. Nothing you make is a punishment.” 
You went to speak—to quip back a warning, if that gleam in your eye gave anything away—but Bucky kissed you instead. He pulled you in and kissed you because you were so close and he couldn’t help himself. You smelled like the fresh linens that were folded up on the couch and the bread that was presumably in the oven and Bucky hadn’t kissed you in two days. 
“Love you,” he murmured against your lips. “And I missed you.” 
“You said that already,” you whispered, curling fingers into the stitching of his sweater. 
“Only thing on my mind.” 
The timer went off. It was that little one Bucky picked up for you when he went out of state for a mission. It was shaped like a pig and you twisted it around the middle to set the time. It looked completely out of place in the carefully decorated kitchen, but you kept it on the stove anyway. 
“Muffins!” you smiled, and when you pulled away from him Bucky felt cold. 
He could have sworn it was bread. 
“Cornbread muffins,” you clarified, after you had set the pan on a cooling rack. “For the soup, duh,” you playfully rolled your eyes. Bucky apparently hadn’t concealed his confusion very well. 
A few floors down, there was a bus on the street. Bucky knew you couldn’t hear it, but he could. The breaks hissed and he could hear the way the driver’s shoe sounded as it pressed into the pedal. He could make out the low conversations of its passengers. 
Sometimes, things like that scared him. Not because of his abilities. Bucky was used to hearing and seeing things that others couldn’t. 
It scared him because you couldn’t do the things he could, and there were plenty of times that he wasn’t with you. Plenty of times you were vulnerable. Plenty of times he couldn’t be ten steps ahead of everything. 
So as you stood before him, not even an arm’s length away, Bucky reached for you again. He needed to hold you, at least until that stupid bus moved from underneath the window. He needed to hold his girl while the world was moving so quickly outside. 
“Buck, they’re gonna get stuck to the pan,” you lightly argued, running fingers along his forearms—against his skin and not the sweater. “And I have to stir the soup.” 
He grunted, unrelenting. You stepped forward, and he stepped too. Hands met your waist again, more possessive this time, and you gave into the feel. Dinner continued, but you did it with a shadow. The sky got darker, and you moved to the dining table. 
You had turned the music off, instead opting for a comfortable silence and the bustle of New York through the cracked window. A dim evening had faded into a vibrant moon behind hindering clouds, and Bucky stood beside his chair and shifted his weight between his feet. 
“Something wrong?” you asked, setting down the last bit of food in the center of the table. 
He paused. “No.” But that didn’t sound right—not telling you the truth. “I just… you can say no, but would you wanna sit with me? While we eat?” 
“Of course I was going to sit with you, Buck—” 
“No, like—” God, he felt like a teenager asking a girl to the prom. “With me.” He motioned to the chair with a firm, metallic hand. 
Your face softened immediately, just like he knew it would. That did something to him that was tough to explain. Maybe soon, in a life that didn’t require so much of him, he would be able to put it down in words. 
You didn’t respond to his request, but that was okay because you smiled, and Bucky sat down as if you spoke real words. “Are you okay?” you asked, nestled between his arms and between his legs. 
“Yeah,” Bucky responded. “Just needed to hold my girl a little more.” And then he added, “I love you,” because he kissed you before you could say it back last time. 
You said it back this time. 
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straywords · 2 months
Text
°•☆So tasteful☆•°
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♦️ Mob! Bucky Barnes x Chef! Reader ♦️
Your baked treats are suspiciously good and it attracts the mob boss’ attention.
CW: fluff, humor, obsession, meet cute, smitten Bucky, grumpy Bucky
Words: 750
A/N: Engagement is so low these days, I might not bother writing more, but I still really liked this idea, so here we go with this drabble ^^
Bucky Barnes masterlist || Peachy Sweet masterlist
When he took over the organization, he didn't think there'd be so many pleasantries involved. 
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Bucky hates these meetings.
While he knows some degree of diplomacy is required, he expected a lot less talking and a lot more killing. That at least, he can't mess up. It is second nature, after all. When the handle of a blade fills his palm, he truly feels home. 
But this… 
It makes the killer in him antsy, restless. What he'd trade for a good, old-fashioned hunt. A worthy chase. He misses it, the thrill that coursed through him whenever he cornered a target. The fear shining in their eyes, the realization there would be no tomorrow…
The prospect makes his blood sing. 
He listens intently to Danny’s report, twirling the glass of brown liquor in his hand. 
"We found out who the mole was." Bucky perks up, his attention fully drawn. Each of his men does the same, their faces tight. The sting of betrayal permeates the air, clogging the room even more than the lingering clouds of smoke. There’s been a rat in their ranks for too long. He's been feeding information to the FBI for weeks, ruining deliveries, delaying shipments. 
Bucky’s mouth twists in contempt as pictures are tossed on the low wooden table brimming with manila folders and half-empty glasses of alcohol.
He takes in the face of the traitor. 
Rumlow. He knows he should have erased every trace of the old organization, but the bastard did good work and never asked too many questions. Turns out it’s because he was too busy running his damn mouth.
"What should we do about it, boss?" Danny asks. 
"Bring him to me. I’ll deal with him myself," he replies without hesitation, emptying his glass to its dregs before clenching his jaw. 
But the unhinged train of Bucky’s murderous thoughts is halted when his gaze lifts to one of his henchman, Leo, humming loud enough for him to hear.
"What are you doing?"
The boy freezes. Dark crumbs line his mouth as he looks at his boss with wide eyes.
A nervous stutter spills from his mouth.
"Just…eating a brownie, sir."
Bucky squints at Leo, a deep scowl scrunching his features.
He slaps the brownie out of the boy’s hand who watches it fall to the floor with a dejected expression.
"Eating a brownie, huh? What do you think this is? The neighborhood bake sale?"
Another subtle moan rises to his left and Bucky’s gaze narrows to yet another one of his henchmen indulging in the sweet delights. 
His voice trembles as he points at the plate of brownies.
"They are really good, sir. You should try one."
"I should-" 
Bucky scoffs, disbelief fluttering through him as he notices how many of the brownies have already been eaten. 
"Whatever. I swear to god if you don’t s-"
The mobster’s irate rant is halted when a brownie is shoved into his mouth by a henchman. Bucky frowns at the audacity, ready to end the meeting and commit murder on the spot, but…then the taste melts on his tongue, sweet and subtle. Heavenly. The scowl on his face eases as anger dissipates. 
"Who baked these?"
"The new chef, sir."
His frown returns. 
"New chef? What happened to the old chef?"
"He was…disposed of when we realized he was lacing the food with poison."
"Disposed of?"
The henchman who spoke shifts awkwardly in his chair.
"You slit his throat, sir."
Bucky nods as slow remembrance sneaks inside his mind. He’s not sure how that memory escaped him. The man screamed a lot. It left quite an impression.
"Right, I forgot that."
The meeting resumes but Bucky’s mind is elsewhere. It’s not often he’s comforted by something as trivial as baked goods. This is uncanny; he needs to inquire more about this new chef.
He’d never slit your throat. Bucky’s sure of that. 
Their intentions should be gauged anyway. Who knows? Maybe they too, will need their throat slit. 
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When the mob boss entered the kitchen, his intentions were clear. Interrogate or intimidate, most likely both. But when he gets a glimpse of your angelic face, wrinkled in focus while you cover a cake in chocolate frosting, Bucky feels like he’s being stabbed right through the heart. Over and over again. He could have collapsed right here and then. 
And when you lift your head to smile at him - the most gorgeous smile he’s ever seen - Bucky knows he’s fucking lost. 
I do not have a taglist anymore. Follow and turn up notifs for my sideblog @straytales to know when I post something new.
Instantly, he knows, he needs to have you, no matter what it takes.
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draguta · 13 hours
Text
.just the way you are | three.
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pairing: dbf!bucky x fem!reader
summary: back home in brooklyn, job lost, dumped, unable to pay rent, and utterly ashamed of yourself. of course your dad had offered out your childhood bedroom, but what happens when you bump into his best friend once again, this time no longer the teenager that you were when you left?
chapter word count: 3739
series warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni, strip teast, smut, fingering, daddy kink, age gap (reader 24, bucky 39)
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You slung your bag onto the hook in the hallway and sludged through to the living room, running a hand over your face. Your first job interview, and it had gone terribly; not only did they essentially tell you the second that you walked in that they wouldn’t give you the job because you were overqualified, but you found out that the job that you had actually applied for as head of department had already been filled, and they were only looking for an underling. And to make matters worse, you were heading home to an empty house, with your dad having been gone for two days already, to wallow in your own self pity.
The only thing was, that you found you weren’t alone after all.
There in the kitchen, cooking noodles on the stove, stood Bucky. The room smelled incredible, filled with the aroma of spices, and you could see a bottle of wine on the counter, already uncorked, with two glasses beside it, one already filled, the other empty.
You slumped onto a stool by the island counter, grabbing Bucky’s attention. He turned to you with a smile, leaning over to pour you a glass of wine, which you took gratefully.
“Hope you like pad thai,” he chuckled, glancing back at the pan to stir the noodles before looking back at you. His smile fell when he saw your face; you were fighting back tears, your head in your hand, leaning against the counter. “What happened?”
It only took a second for him to turn the heat down on the food and rush around the counter to your side, arriving just as the first tear fell. Two strong arms engulfed you in seconds, and you took in his cologne, wood scented, musky yet with a hint of sweetness that you couldn’t quite place; it was exactly Bucky. He stroked your hair as you wept, trying desperately to hold the tears in, but every time you tried it only made you cry harder. Your thoughts were a never-ending whirl of anger and hatred and pain and loss, each one battling against the others to come to the forefront of your mind.
When you had finally let out everything that you had bottled inside, you sat back in your chair, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands, and looking up at him. He had this look, this expression, one that you had seen too many times growing up - concern. His brows were knitted, his eyes wide and distressed.
“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, wiping your eyes once more and taking a huge sip of your wine. “I’ve just had a really hard day.”
“You don’t need to be sorry,” he all but whispered, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your back in a manner that brought you almost instant calmness. “Just tell me what happened.”
You drew in a deep sigh, taking in his gentle smile of encouragement, one that you couldn't ignore; you knew you had to get it off your chest, and Bucky was there, ready and willing to listen.
"I just had a really bad job interview, that's all," you explained with a sniffle. "They basically told me I was overqualified, and that the position I was applying for in the first place had already been taken."
Bucky frowned, rubbing a circle on the small of your back to comfort you as you continued.
"They pretty much told me I wouldn't get the job as soon as I walked in there. And I know that it's silly to get so upset over, but it just seems like another thing to add to the pile of shit that I've been handed over the past few months," you kept going, fighting back the tears. "This, and having to move back home - which is fine, it's actually nice being back - but I feel like I've taken a step backwards, instead of forwards. I had such a good job before, I had a boyfriend, and an apartment. I was so happy, and now?"
"You feel like you've lost everything that was good in your life?" Bucky answered, almost questioningly, even though he knew that what he was saying was the truth. You nodded slowly, drawing in a shaky breath as you took another sip of your wine for confidence. "Tell me what happened, with your boyfriend."
You blinked at him, considering whether it was worth getting into, but decided that it would be useful to you to get it off your chest and share it with someone who wouldn't judge you for it.
"Ben was perfect. He was everything - kind, and funny - until he started getting distant, spending less time with me and being less affectionate. My friend Molly told me not to worry about it, that she thought he was probably going to propose and that he was maybe just nervous." You paused, your mind flashing back to that moment, seeing them together, wrapped up in the sheets of your bed. "But it turns out that she was just covering for him, for them. The day that I lost my job I went home early and found them fucking. They'd been doing it for months apparently, and I'd been completely oblivious to it, waiting for a ring instead of seeing the signs that they were stabbing me in the back."
"And that's when you came home?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow when you nodded.
"I packed my bags that night, called my dad from my car, and drove all night to get here," you explained, sniffling again as a new wave of tears threatened to spill. "I haven't heard from either of them since, but I saw on Instagram that they're together now. They look happy, and here I am with nothing."
"That's not true," Bucky said firmly, his hand coming to rest on your thigh as he knelt down in front of you, coming into your eyeline. "You have your dad, and you have me. And I'll always be here for you, no matter what."
You struggled a smile. "Thank you," you whispered.
"And as for Ben?" He continued, his hand rubbing gently at the skin on your leg, leaving behind little goosebumps. "I think it's safe to say that he clearly didn't know what he had, and now he's lost someone incredible."
"You think I'm incredible?" You asked quietly, your eyes scanning over the handsome features of his face.
"I do," he smiled kindly, and you couldn't help but smile back. His hand trailed down your leg, and he slowly removed your heels from your feet, leaning forward to plant a gentle kiss to your leg. "Now, why don't you go and change into something a little more comfortable while I finish dinner, and we can watch a movie or something? A nice and relaxed night, yeah?"
You did as he said, changing quickly into an oversized shirt and short, with fluffy socks to complete the look. Back downstairs, Bucky had finished cooking and had stuck a movie on the TV, Jurassic Park, an old favourite.
The pair of you ate in silence, watching the movie until the plates were cleaned off. You popped them onto the coffee table and snuggled down onto the couch. Bucky reached over and pulled your feet into his lap, rubbing them gently through your socks. He had been right; this was exactly what you needed.
"You know," Bucky said suddenly, his voice loud enough to be heard over the movie, but quiet enough that it didn't startle you. You glanced over at him, his face illuminated by the constant moving light from the TV, a blue glow casting over his features. "When I said that I couldn't stop thinking about you, I meant that."
"Yeah?" You asked, unable to stop the smirk from pulling at your lips.
"Yeah," he chuckled. "Can't stop thinking about what I want to do to you."
"And what's that?" You asked, knowing the answer already, a small giggle escaping your lips.
"I want to do what that fucking boyfriend of yours could never do," he said, leaning forward towards you ever-so-slightly, his voice low. "I want to show you how much you're worth."
Your heart fluttered in your chest, your thighs clenching together, an action that Bucky noticed, bringing a satisfied smirk to his face. "Then why don't you?" You asked quickly.
Bucky paused, scanning your face as he thought for a second, before leaning back in his chair again, clearly having made a decision. "I can't."
You sat upright, removing your legs from his lap, looking over at him in confusion. "Why?"
"You know why," he countered, reaching for your leg again, but you pulled away, raising your eyebrows and waiting for an answer. "You're dad, sweetheart. I can't imagine he'd be particularly impressed with his best friend fucking his daughter."
You thinned your lips in agreement, realising that he was right. Your dad wouldn't be happy if he ever found out, you were sure. Bucky was twice your age, old enough to be your father, which you were sure would be enough to make your dad uneasy alone, and that's without including the fact that Bucky was his best friend.
"It's funny," you chuckled, and Bucky raised his eyebrows in confusion. "When I was a teenager I had the biggest crush on you."
"Really?" Bucky asked, his face the picture of surprise.
"Are you kidding? Everyone did! All of my friends were obsessed with you," you laughed, leaning back into the couch, your eyes focused on his, the movie long forgotten. "You were my fantasy I guess. And here we are, finally we actually have a chance, and there's nothing I can do about it, again."
"Yeah," he said slowly, glancing down at his hands. "It sucks right?"
"It sure does," you replied quietly. The pair of you sat in silence for a minute, staring at the TV but neither of you watching it. You couldn't help yourself - you knew the consequences, but consequences be dammed - you slipped your hand down the cushion of the couch just an inch, closer to his own hand. You felt the cushion dip as his own hand slid closer, until your fingers were touching, slowly intertwining together in a way that made your breath halt in your lungs. A moment of silence, only a pair of heavy breathing breaking the silence.
"Fuck it," he said, and suddenly he was clasping the side of your face and slamming his lips onto yours, pulling you by the waist quickly into his lap. The kiss was passionate, needy, deep and unrelenting. His hands held tightly to the sides of your face, pulling gently at your hair as your own twisted in the front of his shirt. He lifted you easily, taking you from the living room, up the stairs, and towards your bedroom.
The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon seeping through the old floral curtains as he planted you on the floor at the end of the bed. He moved to turn on your bedside lamp, which cast an orange glow around you, shadows lingers in the light. And then he sat, on the very edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands slightly. His flannel had been abandoned on the trip up the stairs, but besides that he was fully clothed, even wearing that smug smirk on his face as his gleaming blue eyes latched onto yours, waiting patiently.
"Strip."
Your eyes widened in apprehension. It wasn't that the idea of putting a show on for him wasn't thrilling, but the thought of being so vulnerable in front of anyone, with everything that you had laid out for someone to see in that way, terrified you. And despite the glances and the texts and that night in the kitchen, he had never seen you without clothes before. What if you tried to be sexy, but he actually just found you unattractive?
"I've waited for this for so long, I want to see every part of you. You don't want to please me, sweetheart?" His voice was low and rough; it didn't really seem like a question, and you couldn't deny the way that it made your thighs clench together. Once again, he noticed, and let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "You want to make me happy, right?"
Another clench of your thighs, and all you could do was whimper, putty in his hands. You couldn't quite believe that this was actually happening, that you and Bucky were taking this step, but it was real, even if it did feel like a dream.
But if simply the idea of stripping for him had been so intimidating in theory, then a word was yet to be created to describe exactly what it was that you felt in that exact moment, with him watching your every move from his perch on the edge of your bed. His eyebrows were raised, and you didn't miss the way his jaw tensed as he inhaled firmly when you finally took a step towards him. You swallowed the lump in your throat, licking your lips slightly in an attempt to remain calm.
When you reached the ends of his knees, now hovering over him, looking down into his eyes, a now darker shade of blue than you had ever seen in them before, filled with lust, he placed his hands on your hips, stroking soft circles onto the skin there.
"Don't be nervous, sweetheart," he all-but whispered. "It's only me."
That was true; it was Bucky, now your Bucky. You had never felt more comfortable around someone before him, so what were you so nervous about? You knew he wasn't going to laugh at you or mock you, not in this situation. And you had waited so long, there was no way you were going to back out now.
And so you took a deep breath and turned around, allowing his hands to trail over your skin as you did so. You weren't sure when he had turned on music, but the soft sounds of Amy Winehouse played quietly in the background, the perfect sultry soundtrack for a trip tease. Slowly but surely you began to sway your hips in time with the music, raising your hands into the air, bending one and stroking your hand down the other arm. Leaning forward slightly, you spared a glance over your shoulder; Bucky was staring at the curve of your ass, his bottom lip nipping tightly between his teeth. You couldn't help the little grin that spread across your lips at the sight, a new waves of confidence washing over you.
You did want to please him.
You did want to make him happy.
You allowed your hands to slowly slide down your neck, along your hips and to the hem of your shirt, shooting another glance back at him as you crossed your arms across your stomach and slowly but surely pulled your shirt over your head, dropping it to rest on the floor. You heard him take a deep inhale, and he tutted quietly.
"No bra?"
Slowly you turned to look at him, taking in the sparkling glint in his eye as he watched you hooked your fingers in the waistband of your shorts, ready to bring them down. You didn't answer his question, he already knew the answer after all. You could already see his arousal standing strong and firm within his jeans, and it only grew when he reached forward and helped you to slide your shorts down your thighs, kicking them to join your shirt.
And there you stood for a moment, his eyes trailing every inch of your unclothed body, feeling the blush rising in your cheeks at your vulnerability. You knew that it was Bucky; he would never make you feel uncomfortable, but you'd never been in this position before, so on-show, with twinkling eyes drinking in everything that you had to offer. He licked his lips, taking his bottom lip between his teeth once more, before reaching forward, pulling you gently towards him by your hips, planting a small kiss on your stomach.
"You did so good for me," he mumbled against your skin. "God, I've imagined what you looked like, but it never measured to the real thing. I'm so lucky to have a girl like you, someone who'd do anything for me."
A sigh escaped your lips at the contact, his scruff tickling your skin, your eyelids fluttering closed. "I would, Bucky. I would do anything you asked."
One of his hands slid down from your hip to rest of the curve of your ass, his lips continuing to trail across the skin of your stomach, his breath hot against you as he spoke. "Well then, I think it's time for your reward."
It was almost effortless the way he lifted you again, allowing you to wrap your legs around his hips as he carried you around the bed, planting you gently on the bed, He held your arms up in place, against the headboard, as he slid a hand around your back, snaking its way painfully slowly down your spine, stopping to squeeze gently at your ass as you curved your back into his touch. He paused at your thigh, rubbing gently as he looked up at you.
"Ready sweetheart?" He asked - all you could do was nod.
He slid one finger into you easily, cursing at the tightness as you gasped his name. He pulled it out, adding another as he slid them back inside, finding a gentle rhythm, the palm of his hand hitting at your bud every time. You writhed underneath him, and the way that he looked down at you seemed to be a concoction of pure awe and lust, and everything inbetween.
"Does that feel good, sweetheart?" He asked, whispered directly into your ear in a way that brought a shiver up your spine.
"S-So good Bucky," you mumbled. He slapped the inside of your thigh, bringing a flash of pain amongst the pleasure.
"That's not my name."
"S-So good d-daddy," you managed to get out, eyes squeezed closed tightly.
"Good girl," he chuckled. He removed his fingers, laughing slightly at the whimper that he elicited from the action. "Don't worry baby, I'll make you feel even better."
You felt the mattress dip as he sat up, removing his clothes. You squinted open your eyes, watching as he pulled his shirt over his head, showing his perfectly chiseled abs, the small flush of hair on his chest, and the little trail that led under his belt. He then got to work unbuckling that belt, bringing his jeans and his underwear down together, your own personal show, his length revealing itself as it slapped up against his stomach. He moved back down, planting a bruising kiss to your lips, hovering over you.
You reached down, taking his length in your hand, gently stroking it up and down before positioning it, allowing him to slowly slide into you.
You had never felt so full before in your life. It was as if he was built perfectly to fit inside you, a sword sliding into its sheath. Your back arched, your face burying itself into his chest, breathing in his scent. And that was when he began to move, slowly to begin with, each roll of his hips bringing with it a new wave of bliss that forced your eyes closed once again.
"Open your eyes," he whispered against your neck, and your eyes fluttered open once more, his own gleaming blue ones catching them in an instant. "I want to watch you."
It was the most intimate thing that you had ever experienced. The way that your eyes stayed connected, watching you watching him, eyebrows knitted together in pleasure. lips parting with every roll of his hips.
He began to speed up, his hand sliding down to find your bundle of nerves, rubbing soft, relentless circles there. You could feel the coil tightening, his fingers and thrusts pushing you closer and closer to the edge every second. You could tell that he was getting close too, the way his mouth hung open ever so slightly, his eyes squinting but never closing. It only took one gentle kiss, as he leaned down towards you, bringing your lips together, for you to fall off the edge, your screams of his name muffled into the kiss.
"Come on, daddy," you whispered, pulling away from the kiss and catching his eyes once again. "Come for me, baby."
And he did, his hips stuttering, a stutter of curses mixed with your name falling from his lips as he finished inside you, his spend dripping around him and down onto the sheets below. He waited a moment, before planting a trail of kisses down your neck as he pulled out and fell into bed beside you, his strong arm pulling you closer against him. The pair of you were asleep in minutes.
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You woke late the next morning, but you still woke earlier than Bucky did. For a second you almost forgot that he was there, forgot what had happened the night before, but the heavy arm wrapped around you, and the gentle breathing of the form cuddled into you, reminded you, bringing a smile to your face. You shuffled upwards, leaving a little kiss to his lips, laughing as he murmured a 'good morning'.
"I'll go make some coffee," you chuckled, sliding out of bed, missing the warmth of his body already. You pulled on Bucky's t-shirt from the night before and slowly made your way downstairs and into the kitchen, turning on the coffee machine and waiting for it to brew.
A buzz caught your attention, and you turned to find Bucky's phone sitting on the counter, clearly forgotten about the night before. You reached over, checking the percentage; 6%. You chuckled, grabbing the charger on the counter and plugging it in, but you paused, a notification on the screen catching your eye. You knew you shouldn't read it, but you couldn't help yourself, it was right there, and it made you feel nauseous.
Natasha: Good morning baby. I missed you last night. Are we still on for dinner tonight?
One thought crossed your mind in that moment: fuck.
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