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#bucky barnes x reader fluff
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Dress Code | Bucky Barnes x Reader
We're back again with "reader's ex was a piece of shit"! One of my favorite genres! (What, no! these terrible ex stories aren't all based on my life...😅)
Warnings: reader’s asshole ex boyfriend, insecurity, manipulation, use of the word "slut" and “whore”, Bucky lusting over reader, drunk reader
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You didn’t hear Bucky call out for you. He tried once, twice, to get your attention, but failed. Only when he appeared behind you in the bathroom mirror did you notice his presence. You jumped, silently cursing the winter soldier training that made him so stealthy. And while you loved being close to him, you hadn’t intended to show him your outfit. You didn’t even know why you tried it on. It sat at the back of your closet for almost a year and a half, ignored. 
But Bucky’s unannounced presence put you in a difficult position. It was too late- he’d seen the dress never meant for his view. 
“Oh, wow…” his voice pulled you back to reality.  A long moment passed as he raked his gaze slowly over your form in the mirror. “You look incredible.” His mouth nearly watered at the sight of you in such an out of character ensemble. Black, tight, revealing. It gave away just enough without revealing everything, teasing Bucky with what remained concealed. 
You gave him a sheepish smile in the mirror, not ready to face him for real. “Oh, um, thanks, babe… you like it?”
He gave a nod so vehement that you feared he’d get whiplash. “We might not even make it to the party…” He shot you a devilish wink that made your chest tighten. “I’ll tell Nat you looked too delicious for me to share you- I’m sure she’ll understand.”
A shy laugh made its way out of your mouth as you picked at your cuticles. You’d done your nails just for tonight, but suddenly had the urge to peel the polish right off. “Um, I actually might change, though- I’m not sure. But I swear I’ll be ready soon.”
Bucky placed his hands on your hips and gently turned you toward him, placing a light kiss to your glossed lips. “No rush, doll. I just came in here to ask- what kind of wine does Nat drink? Sam wants to get her a bottle, but he wasn’t sure what she likes.” His fingers trailed up and down your sides as a mischievous smile pricked at the corners of his mouth. “I just got distracted by the absolute goddess standing in front of me…”
A rush of warmth flooded your cheeks. “She um, she likes reds. Cab is her favorite, but she’ll drink merlot.”
He granted you another chaste kiss. Bucky had experienced a lot of hardship in his life, endured more torment than anyone could imagine. But keeping his hunger for you under control proved to be the hardest thing he’d ever done. And when he pulled away from your lips, he only managed to drag his eyes away from you long enough to reply to Sam’s text. 
As Bucky typed, you faced the mirror once again. You had to admit- you did look amazing. But you still feared leaving the apartment in such an outfit. Maybe you’d keep it relegated to the bedroom, allowing Bucky- and only Bucky - to see it. 
“Are you sure…” you said, your voice soft. “Is it okay if I wear this?”
Bucky gave you a laugh and rested his hands on your hips. “Well, I’m not the best person to ask for fashion advice, cause I mostly wear black on black. On black,” he gestured to his monochromatic outfit. “But you look amazing. So, I say go for it, doll.”
Bucky’s praise warmed your cheeks once again, but you remained conflicted. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely! You know how causal Nat is- the last place you’d find a dress code is at one of her parties.” He pressed his chest to your back and dropped a few kisses along your neck. “In fact, she might even try to steal you away from me.”
You gave Bucky a roll of your eyes and contemplated your options. Sure, you could slip into a pair of jeans and a cute top like always, but something in you wanted to pull out a new look. Something fun. And this dress was the perfect choice. Bucky clearly thought you looked like a knockout, and you loved the way the fabric hugged your body. No event was more perfect for this dress than one of Nat’s parties- it was meant to be. 
“Well, in that case, I’m ready to go.” You took Bucky by the hand and led him out of the bathroom, more confident than ever. But the seed of doubt you’d planted earlier began blossoming into full on worry. And before you even made it out the bedroom door, you found yourself doubling back. 
“Oh, actually- I’m gonna grab a jacket real quick.”
Bucky cocked his head to the side, “are you sure? It’s pretty warm tonight, sweets, and this is an outdoor shindig.”
You gave an overly casual shrug, “yeah. Just in case- never know when you’ll need it.”
The night went off without a hitch. You spent hours sipping on elderflower & pear seltzers and laughing with your closest friends. Compliment after compliment flew your way- everyone loved your look. Red wine flowed and music pounded. And like a gaggle of schoolchildren, the party quickly separated into a group of guys and a group of women. You spent your evening with Nat, Maria, Wanda, and the rest of the girls while Sam, Clint, Scott and a few other guys stood near the bar. 
But Bucky blurred the line. He couldn’t keep his hands off you, couldn’t resist you in the slightest. Every twenty minutes or so, he felt compelled to pay you a visit. He was drawn to you with no hope of resisting- not that he ever wanted to.
Observing you from afar just wasn’t good enough. He needed to be up close and personal; close enough to smell your perfume, to taste the wine on your lips. He never wanted to impede on your time with Nat and the other girls, but you were just too mesmerizing. It almost seemed as though he were a sailor, and you, his siren. And if you led him to his death with your magnetic song, he wouldn’t mind.
And though you appeared to have a great time, Bucky clocked a slight tension. A stiffness in your shoulders. A rigidity in your jaw. It wasn’t constant. But it was there. And Bucky wondered what had you so uncomfortable. He kept an eye out for creepy guys and made sure your drinks were safe- but nothing felt out of the ordinary. 
And as he escorted you to his car after the night’s festivities came to an end, you didn’t bring it up. You didn’t mention an off-putting stranger or an off-color comment from Sharon. Only positives spilled from your wine-stained lips. 
When you finally arrived home, Bucky opened the door to the apartment and guided you inside. The alcohol was on top of you, and he didn’t fully trust your teetering steps. The last thing he wanted was for you to twist your ankle.
“I’m ready to not be walking on knives…” you said- or, slurred. You rocked side to side, the effects of the alcohol pushing you off balance as you tried to escape your heels.
“Here, let me, baby …” Bucky steadied your body against a wall before kneeling in front of you.
He carefully unbuckled one heel at a time, and slipped each foot out of the tight shoes. “This is like a reverse-Cinderella situation, isn’t it?” He laughed, staring up at your slack-jawed smile, “only I wouldn’t have to try your shoe on every woman in town.” He stood and swiped a bit of smeared lipstick from your skin- before smearing a bit more with his own lips. “I mean, who could forget a face like this?” 
A contented sigh left your chest as you melted against him, “I’m really glad we went tonight. I like celebrating Nat.”
Bucky trailed kisses around your hairline and across your cheek.  “Yeah? Good. I was afraid…” he almost stopped himself. You were drunk. Sleepy. Maybe this wasn’t the right time. But if he waited till tomorrow, he knew there was a chance you’d come up with an excuse by then. “I thought maybe you weren’t having a good time.”
You cocked your head to the side, your glassy eyes narrowing just a touch. “Huh? Why?”
Bucky shrugged. “Well, you seemed a little tense, doll. All night. I kind of thought maybe you were upset or something. It seemed like…” He let out a sigh. Maybe he was projecting. He always assumed he’d done something wrong. Or that he hadn’t done something you wanted him to. All he ever wanted was to be better- the best- for you.  He wanted constructive criticism and performance reviews. He needed to be as perfect for you as you were for him. And so, he pressed on, “Every time I walked over, you kinda stiffened up.” 
A frown pulled your features downward. Your hands shot up to Bucky’s cheeks and pulled his face toward yours. “Oh, Buck, oh no- I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything…”
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he laughed. “I just wanted to double check.”
“I only thought you might do something- or, actually…” You paused for a moment, formulating your drunk, murky thoughts. “It really has nothing to do with you.”
Bucky wasn’t following. He was certain that this was a mistake, that he should’ve waited till morning to bring it up. But it was too late now.
 “I just kinda got used to it and so I expected it to happen. But you didn’t do it!” You gave his cheeks a gentle squish. “So it’s all good. You’re the sweetest.” With that, your lips swept against his in a soft kiss, smearing his skin with your lipstick.
Bucky almost didn’t want to ask. But he needed to know. “I didn’t do what, baby?”
“You know,” you shrugged, “call me slut.”
Bucky’s ears started ringing. There was no way her heard you right- was there? Maybe he was drunk- no, he couldn’t get drunk. Maybe he imagined it? “Wait, what? Why would I call you a…” he didn’t want to say it. “Why would I do that?”
“Because of my outfit!” You said it so casually, so matter of fact. Almost as though it were normal. “It’s pretty tight. And revealing. And my titties are almost, like, all the way out.” You gave your chest a shake. “So I thought you’d get mad at me. But you didn’t!” You pressed another long kiss to his lips, “thanks for not yelling.” A soft, tired smile punctuated your sentence. But Bucky knew this was a red flag.
He knew instantly this was a holdover from your ex. The one who belittled you, criticized you, acted as though you belonged to him. He made you feel like you were his property, like he was in control of your entire life. What you wore, what you ate, what you watched- he decided. 
He was insecure. He knew how beautiful you were, how out of his league. And so, he opted to tear you down. To blame you for his own self-doubt.  To chastise and berate you for showing what he deemed ‘too much’ skin or wearing ‘too much’ make up. He always asked who you were dressing up for, who you were trying to impress. If not him, who else was there? What other reason did you have to get dolled up? 
He even went through your closet once while you were away, ridding your wardrobe of anything he deemed ‘inappropriate’. He threw it all out and called you a slut, a whore- simply for owning such clothing. 
He required you get his permission to wear anything short or low cut. He assumed you wanted to sleep with- or already slept with- any man you talked to. Coworkers, friends, the barista at your coffee place. He saw everything you did in public as flirtatious and risqué. He said he couldn’t trust you. That your friends were a bad influence. He did everything he could to pull your life apart until only he remained.
“Okay, we’re gonna talk about this more when you’re sober,” Bucky said, “But I’m never going to yell at you- especially not for something as inconsequential as an outftit.”
“You can yell at me,” you sighed. It was the sound of someone dejected, resigned- someone forced into submission. “Sometimes I don’t learn my lesson, and so I need to be yelled at. Ya know?” Your sad smile made another appearance.
Bucky shook his head. He was disgusted with your ex. With men in general, really. “No, that’s just something he told you, doll. You don’t ‘need’ to be yelled at. I’m your boyfriend- not your parent, not your boss. I’m not going to yell at you- ever.”
You perked up suddenly. “Really? I like that, I like not being yelled at. You’re the best.”
“That’s…” Bucky sighed. “That’s a low bar.”
You simply gave him a shrug- for you, the bar was in hell.
Bucky left a kiss against your forehead. “You’re a fully grown adult; you’re allowed to wear whatever you want- you know that, right? You’re-”  He took a pause and the quickly rephrased, “This is not me giving you permission. You don’t need my permission. I’m just saying, it’s your body. They’re your clothes. You should wear what makes you happy, not what you think I’ll ‘allow’”.
You stared up at him, struggling to make sense of such a foreign concept. “Are you sure? Cause… what if, what if I wanna wear something like, really slutty?”
Bucky’s head fell back in a laugh, “That’s not something I’ll ever I be opposed to.”
“But what if-”
“Baby, no ‘what ifs’. No ‘buts’. You should wear whatever you want, whether it’s a parka and snow pants or fishnets and those... those-” he made groping motions at his chest and searched for the word but came up empty. “what are they called? The sticky boob things?”
“Chicken cutlets!” you laughed.
“Yeah! Chicken cutlets!” he said. “You don’t belong to anyone but yourself. Your body is yours. And if you want to wear nothing but chicken cutlets, that’s your choice.”
You chewed on the inside of your cheek, weighing the truth of his words. The way you’d been treated was dehumanizing. Demoralizing. Asking permission for something as simple as clothing always made you feel stupid. Small. Ashamed. And though hearing Bucky say these things brought you comfort, the apprehension in your chest remained.
“I just don’t wanna…” It felt stupid saying what you feared. You felt like a child. “I just don’t wanna get in trouble.” The admission came with a heavy sigh and few unexpected tears. You lived on a leash for so long it made freedom sound scary.
Bucky pulled you close and showed you the love you needed. He let you breathe. Unlearning the things your ex ingrained in you would take time, this Bucky knew. But he was more than happy to help you on the journey. 
“You’re not gonna get in trouble. You can’t get in trouble- not with me.” He pulled your face from his chest and rested his palms against your cheeks, “I’m not in charge of you.”
Meeting his eyeline was hard; shame still had its hooks in you. “But what if I wear something really revealing and other guys hit on me?”
Bucky tucked a finger under your chin and lifted your head ever so slightly. When your eyes finally met his, you found an almost amused smile on his face. “Doll, I know how to fight,” he said with a wink. “It’s my job. Wear whatever you want. And if someone tries to make you uncomfortable, they’ll have me to answer to. Okay?”
This time, your smile was genuine. “Okay,” you laughed, “thanks, Buck. You the best.” You melted against his body with a sigh and barely noticed that he’d swept you up into his arms. No one ever cared for you the way he did. When you’d first met, part of you thought it was a front. Maybe he was trying to right the wrongs of his past by overcorrecting. 
But it was real- all of it. His adoration for you, his devotion to you; everything he said was genuine. And as he carried you to bed and helped you get into some pajamas, you knew you’d never have to walk on eggshells with him. He’d never make you ask for permission or beg for forgiveness. He only wanted you to be happy. And if you wanted to wear a different, outrageous, barely-there outfit every day of the week, he’d happily fight off any man who dared comment.
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lovelybarnes · 16 hours
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Maybe Later- B. Barnes
Pairings: bucky barnes x reader, sam wilson, thor odinson Warnings: alcohol, bucky is drunk (ooc? Have we ever seen him drunk i watched all of his scenes lol) About: this quote thing. I dont know if i got what i was aiming for. (“marry me” “maybe later”
Three-oh-two glows red in pinched little lines on your alarm, blunt in the darkness of the room and sharp against the pale light the moon manages through margins between your curtains. The numbers are smudged in sleep as you blink awake from what was meant to be a short rest for your eyes, bent and refracted like you’re looking through a finger-smudged window. You could easily mistake it for a dream if your phone weren’t singing loudly from your bedside table.
With a groan, you slam a hand over it, the piercing noise insistent even with your fingers wrapped around its width. You squint against the brightness of the screen, sitting up when you recognize Sam’s contact name in bold white letters.
“Hello?” you greet tiredly, rolling your shoulders as your weariness begins to pass. The rivets of your jeans dig into your abdomen, your casual shirt proves itself not soft enough for sleep, and you pick at the shoulder. The blankets are creased and made beneath you.
“Hey, sleeping beauty.” Sam’s voice comes through rough and curved in a smile you can see through the phone. “Got somethin’ for you.”
You blink at the wall. “What?”
“A grumpy old man.”
“Which one?” An amused crackle smothers the delicate silence. “What happened to twelve? I tried to wait.”
“Someone had a little too much to drink.” There’s commotion from the other side of the line, a joyous yell and shattering. Sam groans loudly.
“Well, Asgardian liquor tends to stir something in our Avengers,” you mumble, scooting to the edge of your bed to squeeze on your shoes, squished and set next to you at the ready.
“You have no idea.” Sam mutters. Bucky’s voice suddenly comes through, distant and too distorted to make out specifics. “Incoming.”
“I have a little one,” you digress, lashes kissing at their edges in your search for the car keys that had been at your hip. 
“Hey, what the hell was that noise--” Sam begins, far away, before he’s abruptly cut off. “Hey--”
“Honey?” Bucky’s voice is loud enough that you wince and pull the speaker away from your ear, catching a glint from your bed. “S’that you?”
“Yeah, darling, it’s me,” you murmur, voice a little honeyed as you hook a finger through the car key ring peeking from behind a pillow.
“I miss you,” his words bump into each other, so heartfelt he can’t get them out fast enough with a heavy tongue. “Will y’come get me please?”
“I’m on my way. Don’t get into too much trouble,” you command gently, jaw against the soft flesh of your neck to keep your phone steady while you pull at your left shoe.
He makes a disgruntled noise. “F’course not.”
“Don’t drink any more, you’re going to have a killer hangover tomorrow as it is.” You step out of your room and make your way to the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor.
“That is not true. My tolerance is,” he hiccups and bursts into a startled laugh, “high. Way higher than Steve’s.”
“Is that true?” You chuckle, stepping out once the doors have parted. 
“Yeah,” Bucky affirms agreeably.
“Interesting. Can’t wait to see how Golden Boy is doing.”
“Not great, but at least he’s having fun,” Sam cuts in, Bucky’s indignance about it muffled over the phone. “He’s going to regret--Barnes, give me a second--he’s gonna regret ever touching the--Barnes, damn it--the stuff. You asshole, you have your own phone--”
There’s a click and then silence, where you’re left staring amusedly at a dimming screen with one foot ready to climb into your car. “Well then,” you mumble, shutting off the device before you set it neatly in the cupholder between the two front seats. After you’ve turned on the engine and begun to set off, you turn mournfully to the clean inside of your car and hope ceaselessly that it’ll stay that way.
You’re only a few minutes from Sam’s house when your phone rings out a familiar bouncy tune you’d had Bucky pick out for his identifying ringtone. It was sweet and melancholy all at the same time, and it had taken him ten seconds and a look at your beaming face for him to label it as his.
His voice is stretched out and mournful when you answer, your name replaced with a rare Baby?
“Hey, honey. Found your phone?”
He ignores you, breathing out a long sigh. “I miss you.”
“We just talked on the phone,” you laugh. “I haven’t even given you a chance to miss me yet.”
He seems to mull it over for a short moment, elongated in his hazy mind. “Are you on your way?”
“I’m almost there.”
“That’s good because I miss you.”
“Do you now?” you hum.
“Steve knows,” Bucky pillars.
“I bet he does,” you laugh. Bucky hums in confirmation. “How much have you had to drink?” you ask. “You even sound a little different.”
“I missed this,” Bucky muses drily. “I love Asgard.”
“You’re going to take that back tomorrow.” You turn and spot the name of Sam’s street. “But it’s okay because I’ll take care of you.”
What follows you don’t expect. Bucky breathes out loud, nearly doleful, coming out static on your end.
You frown. “Bucky? Is something wrong?”
“No,” he sulks, a complete lie.
You don’t bother pushing him when he’s more stubborn than usual and you’re only a voice on his phone. “If you say so. I’m almost there, okay? I’m going to hang up now.”
“Don’t hang up. I want to hear your voice.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” you catch sight of Sam’s house. “I hang up, and you’ll get a lot more than my voice in a minute. What do you think?”
There’s a petulant sigh on the receiver. “What about the wonders of technology?”
“What happened to ‘we did just fine in the forties’?”
He says your name long and pleading.
“You get very dramatic when you’re drunk, you know that? I’ll be with you before you know it.”
“No. No… c’mon, please, dove.”
“I’m pulling in!” you exclaim.
“I don’t see you.”
“That’s not surprising. Seeing through walls isn’t a super-solder ability as far as I know,” you tease, shutting off the engine and unbuckling yourself. You nestle your phone between the soft crook of your neck as you open the door.
You can see Bucky pout through the phone.
“I’m coming in. Stop gossipping about me to the guys, okay?” you goad, coming to a stop in front of the door. It’s only a glance at the doorbell before Sam, bare-chested, appears in the doorway, haloed by light and smoke from his house. You gape at him. “Why are you--”
“Get him out of my house.”
“I’m trying,” you muster, letting him usher you inside. The house is a mess, with Avengers strewn on the couches and cups everywhere.
“Get them all out of my house. Why did I volunteer to host?”
You shrug, shaking your head as you observe the mess.
Bucky says your name from the phone, reminding you that he’s still on the line, but you don’t need to answer once you spy him in a kitchen seat next to Steve, slumped next to him.
Bucky’s face is bothered, his voice echoed each time he says something. Once you’re a few steps behind him, you hang up and slip your phone into your pocket.
Bucky grunts, pulling a face as he stares at his phone, fingers already moving to your contact just when you position yourself close enough to feel the heat of him on your skin. It’s only a moment testament to his inebriation before he turns, furrowed brows softening when his eyes meet yours. His phone clatters to the table, forgotten.
He murmurs your name, kind and relieved in a melancholy shade. Vibranium fingers twine their way between yours.
“Hey,” you whisper. “I found you.”
“You found me,” he parrots softly, pulling you closer nearly on instinct.
Your free index reaches up to brush a stray strand of brown hair from his face, grazing the warm skin of his forehead, and he leans into it, his other hand going up to grab it too.
You can’t help your smile, dipping down to constellate kisses along his hairline. “Ready to go home?”
He hums his agreeance, watching you with honey eyes. When he moves closer to you, Steve’s elbow slides down the table. With a quick swoop, you remove a hand from Bucky’s hold to cradle Steve’s head before it can slam down onto the surface. You turn to Sam in bewilderment. He shrugs.
Carefully, you set him down on the table, awkwardly patting his hair. “Didn’t think Captain America would go down because of alcohol poisoning, but I guess it had to be something.”
Bucky pulls on the hand he’s still holding, bringing your attention back to him.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, crouching to be able to see him better.
He grins dumbly, majorly soft. “You look pretty.”
You roll your eyes but can’t help the pleased little swoop of your heart. “You look pretty too, you know that?”
“He knows,” Sam cuts in, near accusing toward you.
“Shut up, Sam,” Bucky mumbles.
Sam scowls. “In my own damn house.” He moves to Steve, draping him over himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow, gotta lug all these idiots onto their sides.”
“Okay,” you laugh, “thank you, Sam.”
He grunts in reply, leaving you and Bucky alone. He’s already looking at you when you turn to him again.
“Do you need help getting up?” you ask. He shakes his head but you throw his arm over your shoulder anyway, pulling him to his feet. He’s heavy but at least somewhat steady with your help. “God, Buck.”
“”S all muscle.”
“I know,” you assure amusedly.
The walk only lasts a couple of seconds before Bucky begins to sway. You try your best to hold him up, but are forced to slump into a couch with him when the top of your left knee bumps into one. Instead of helping, Bucky clamps his fingers around your wrists when you move to get up. He’s staring again.
“What?”
“Y’came to pick me up,” he says, as if just realizing it. “All the way here.”
“Of course. I gotta get you home, baby.”
He grasps your hand. “Baby,” he repeats favorably.
You don’t usually call him that, and even in his drunken stupor, he realizes it.
“What’s the time?” he demands suddenly.
“Three? Four?” you assume, preoccupied with sitting up. He’s distracted enough to sit by as you stand, knees bumping into his. “Very late. Or, early, I suppose.”
He inhales deeply, staring up at you with his lovely eyes.
“What’s wrong?” you query immediately, voice dropping to a softer pitch.
“You came for me,” he echoes.
“I did,” you agree patiently. “Wanna stand up so we can get home?”
“I love you.” It’s the most sober he’s sounded.
“I love you too,” you assure, dipping down to hold his jaw between your fingers. A demuring thumb swipes across his cheek. “You know that.”
“I do,” he whispers.
You smile, squeezing him lovingly between your palms, nebulously elated that he knows he’s loved. “Up,” you murmur, pulling on him until he’s just above hovering over the couch.
“Marry me,” he blurts, as if it’s been on the tip of his tongue, words carved earnestly and permanently; overdue.
You smile at him, focused on bringing and keeping him on his feet. Once he is, you take small steps toward the door. “Maybe later.”
“Y’promise?” he’s your hazy eyes when you’re focused entirely on him, cupping the sharp point of a chair before you can bump into it. Clumsily, he pulls open the door, wanting to wait until you’re out first but you don’t let him.
“I do,” you respond as you guide him to your car, helping him crawl in and looping an index around his seatbelt. His fingers interrupt you before the buckle has grazed further than his chest. “Bucky?”
He extends his pinky and stares at you pointedly.
Complying, you curve your pinky around his.
He’s satisfied, letting you buckle him in and watching as you round the car to your seat.
“Thor should come more.”
“We’ll see,” you laugh, starting the engine.
He pulls at the arm nearest to him before you can begin driving, extending his fingers out expectantly. It’s familiar but strange to see from the driver’s perspective. Still, you obey.
“I’m hungry,” he declares, settling in as you drive. “Can we get pizza?”
“Maybe later.”
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The Holiday Spirit- B.Barnes
Summary: Bucky never seemed to have a reason to enjoy the holiday season, that was until he found a box of abandoned kittens.
Pairings: Bucky x Fem!Reader
Warnings: (Not very)grumpy!Bucky, abandoned cats, brief mention of death
Author’s Note: Welcome to day 1 of my attempt at writing holiday themed fics until Christmas! I don’t know how far I will end up going but we shall see. I am a college student so the next 2 weeks for me are very busy, but I will try my hardest to stick to my plan. My asks are open if you want to ask me any questions or if you have some feedback/suggestions, they are always welcomed. I hope you enjoy!
Quick disclaimer: my primary blog is not this account, it is @breakingmalum so if there is a reply on a comment under that user, it is still me, just a different blog.
Word Count: 1.2k
Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!
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Some people love the holiday season, it's a time of year where everyone is happy and celebrating with friends and family. Other’s, however, hate the holiday season, these people are usually eternally grumpy. Sometimes, these two people are in a relationship, for example, Y/N, who loves the holiday season, and Bucky, who hates the holiday season.
Bucky hated the holidays because he spent 90 years not celebrating it, so why start now? Y/N loved it because she loved making the people around her happy, whether that be baking, decorating with friends/loved ones, giving them heartfelt or handmade gifts. She was determined to make Bucky enjoy the holidays. She did that by making older recipes from the 30s and 40s, giving him a first edition of J.R.R Tolkien’s “The Hobbit” and she even made him a thick blanket knowing that after a nightmare he usually wakes up freezing.
She was making a little bit of progress but of course he was still a grump. However, that all changed over the span of a day and a half. It was cold, snowy, so Bucky was walking back to the tower from the store. Y/N had asked him to pick her up some more ingredients for her constant baking, he willingly went because her puppy-dog eyes made him cave the second he saw them.
As he was walking back, trekking his way through the snow, he heard a faint but consistent meowing coming from an alleyway. Bucky always had a soft spot for animals, especially cats, so he was quick to try to find the crying cat. He followed the sound which led him to a soaking wet cardboard box next to a dumpster. Inside held half a dozen kittens, 4 of them were weak but the one that was causing all the ruckus had the most strength, however there was another right next to her a little weaker but still stronger than the rest. 
When he got up to his and Y/N’s floor, she was waiting by the elevator for him. “What’s in the box, honey?” She asked before kissing him sweetly. Before he could answer, the strongest kitten, a white little ball of fur, let out a long and loud meow. 
“I found them in an alleyway. Do we have tuna? Can you start a fire? They’re freezing,” Bucky rattled off.
“I have a fire going already, I can make some tuna. How many are there? I only hear the one.” Bucky opened the top of the box revealing the 6 kittens. The white kitten crawled her way out of the box, the black kitten following suit, the other 4 only twitching every few seconds.
“We need to warm them up. Put the box in front of the fire, give me one kitten at a time and I’ll see what I can do.”
“I am so happy you are a vet tech. Take this little guy first, he’s not moving as much as the others.” Bucky handed her an orange kitten before bringing the box over by the fire. He sat next to the box, running his fingers over the kittens heads, trying to keep them stimulated. The lone white kitten who crawled out of the box had found her way into his lap, snuggling herself up against his stomach, the black one finding her way closer to the warmth of the fire.
Y/N brought the orange kitten back, instructing Bucky to keep him stimulated by petting him and lightly rocking him. They kept changing off the kittens, eventually having to call in reinforcements. Steve, Natasha and Sam were all with Bucky keeping the kittens stimulated. Soon enough the other 5 kittens started to find their voices and began stumbling around in the box.
She had sent Sam to the pet store to pick up some food, toys, litter and litter boxes, practically shoving the man towards the elevator. Nat and Steve left eventually, leaving the couple to deal with the litter of kittens. “We have to name them,” Y/N piped up after a few minutes of silence between the couple, the only sound was the meowing of the kittens and the crackling fire.
“I already know that this little baby is Alpine. As soon as I saw her that’s what came to mind,” Bucky smiled down at the white kitten in his lap. They went about naming all of the kittens and waited through the night with them. If they made it through the night they were in the clear.
By the next morning there were only two kittens left, they were the strongest two to begin with so they had a greater chance of survival. Little Alpine and her polar opposite sister whom Y/N had promptly named Salem. She had a few errands to run before going to the animal clinic so she left Bucky alone with the cats. That usually meant trouble but for once, Bucky hadn’t gotten himself in trouble. Instead he made his way to the pet store, both of the kittens tucked under his jacket, to get some supplies. He ended up purchasing a huge cat tree, cat beds, food, treats, toys, bowls, a water bubbler and then he bought a surprise that Y/N would have to see when she got home.
As he waited for his girl to arrive back home, he set up the cat tree, got the bowls filled and put out, got the water bubbler going, set the cat beds in their bedroom and put on the surprise he had for Y/N before taking a few of the toys and playing with the cats. After a few hours, she had finally returned home, seeming more tired than usual, nearly crashing as soon as she got out of the elevator.
“You look so tired my love! I can run you a nice warm bath and make you some dinner, does that sound okay?” Bucky immediately offered, quite literally sweeping her off her feet and right into his arms. He began walking to their bedroom, setting her on their bed once he entered.
“That would be amazing, honey. Thank you. I barely slept last night,” She yawned promptly after finishing her sentence.
“I bet, let me go get that bath running for you, just relax for a few minutes, okay?” She just hummed, laying back on the bed, dozing off as she heard the faucet running in the bathroom. She was startled, however, when she heard the tinkling of bells approaching her, then a sudden weight on her lap and her stomach. She opened her eyes and looked down only to find the two cats curled up on her. She started giggling when she saw what they were wearing.
The two kittens were dressed as little elves, hat and all. The hats had little bells on the end of them that jingled when they moved. Bucky had heard her giggling so he peaked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom to see that the cats were snuggling with her in their brand new outfits. “I guess this is what you did today?” She teased the man.
“It was an effort trying to get them in those outfits. But I also got a cat tree, some beds, toys, y’know the necessities.” Bucky’s face was bright red but he didn’t mind, he just loved to hear his girl laugh, whether it was at him or the stupid little outfits he put the cats in. He made his way to the bed, plopping himself down by her legs and going back and forth between the cats, petting them gently.
“Seems like you’re in the Christmas spirit.”
“I guess I have some reasons to get into it.”
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tom-holland-parker · 3 months
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A Good Man
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Summary: When Bucky has a nightmare all he wants if for you to hold him close
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!reader
Word count:  1272
Masterlist
The scream woke you up. You sleepily sat up already knowing the cause of the noise. When Tony had told you there were soundproof rooms he didn’t take into account the air vent that connected your room with Bucky. You’d been hearing it for months but chose not to say anything, not wanting him to feel embarrassed. You spent countless nights wishing you could go to his room and comfort him, but you knew Bucky, he’d tell you he’s fine before you even get the chance to ask if he’s okay.
Tonight was different though, the little voice in the back of your head was screaming at you to check on him, at least knock on his door and ask if he needed something, anything just to hear his voice.
You sighed, trudging out of bed, you grabbed your robe and walked barefoot on the cold tiles towards his room. Listening closely, you pressed your ear to the door in hopes to hear something that would tell you he was somewhat okay but you were met with only silence.
“Bucky” You said quietly as you knocked on the door. Seconds passed before you reached for the doorknob, surprised when you noticed it was unlocked. “Bucky I know it’s late I was just checking to see if you were-”
There he sat, in a messy pile of blankets and pillows on the floor. The tears on his face were visible due to the moonlight that lit the room. His head shot up to look at you, “y/n” he said as he quickly looked away from you in hopes that you wouldn’t see him crying. “What are you doing up?” His voice was barely above a whisper
You bit your lip as you tiptoed into the room, shutting the door behind you before walking towards the bed where you sat on the edge. “I just wanted to check on you and make sure you were okay”
You watched as his shoulders slumped and he stared at his hands, “Did I wake you?” the sadness in his voice broke your heart.
“Yeah” You whispered quietly as you moved to get up from the bed. You didn’t have to look at his face to know he was even more disappointed with himself. The urge to hold him close was overwhelming as you slowly moved to sit next to him, “Do you want to talk about it?”
You placed your hand gently on his back, feeling the thin layer of sweat that covered his body, “Or not, I can leave if you want me too”
He stayed quiet, enjoying the feeling of your hand moving up and down his back, “ever since Steve left I’ve had this recurring dream that I’m losing control again” he paused, twiddling with his fingers, “I’m just so scared that I’ll lose all the progress I’ve made and end up hurting everyone again”
You bit your lip, watching as he moved to face you. The look of fear and sadness in his eyes made you want to cry, “I’m just so scared that I’m not a good man."
You pulled him close, his head resting on your chest as your arms wrapped tightly around him. "Bucky" Tears began to fall from his eyes, wetting your shirt as he broke down. You stay quiet, your hand rubbing his back soothingly.
The room went silent after a few minutes, your hand continuing to rub his back. You looked around the room, noticing how everything except the tiny pile of blankets you were laying in seemed untouched, as if no one had lived in it. You frowned at the idea of bucky feeling out of place in his surroundings.
“I’m sorry” His voice was quiet as he moved away from your embrace, “I woke you up and now I'm basically unloading my baggage on you, that’s not fair. You should go to bed, I’ll try to keep quiet”
“Bucky, you’re my friend and I love you and I’m not going to let you go through this by yourself. So,” You got up from the floor and walked over to the closet, “You’re going to change your clothes, I'm gonna put some new sheets on the bed and we’re going to lay down” 
5 minutes. That all it took before Bucky was back in your arms, both of you laying in bed as your fingers gently ran through his hair, “You know I only joined the avengers because of you” You confessed in a whisper
“What?” he lifted his head slightly to look at you, "that's not true, you're one of the smartest people on the team they were practically begging to get you on" 
You chuckled moving your body to be face to face with him, "yes they were begging but for the longest time I didn't want to come" 
Bucky stayed silent waiting for you to continue your story, "I had done so many bad things in the past I never thought that I could do any good with my life. And then one day Steve Rogers comes knocking on my apartment door begging me to hear him out" you smiled at the memory, "so we're sitting down in my kitchen and he's telling me stories of his best friend Bucky Barnes who stuck by his side every moment as kids and always put people before himself. And he told me all about the torture you went through and how even after all the bad you did that not a day goes by that he doesn't see the same person he saw back in the 40s. The same person that would stick up for the scrawny little guy no matter how bad the situation was" 
"I didn't know he saw me that way" Bucky whispered, tears forming in his eyes. Your hand moved to caress his face. "After I spoke with him I thought to myself if someone still had the chance to be a hero even after all the bad maybe there was a shot for me"
"You're the first person besides Steve who made me feel comfortable here" Bucky said in a hushed tone, as if he was sad to say it, "everyone was sort of okay with me because Steve said they had to be, not that I blame them I'd be hesitant too but it's like everyone is walking on eggshells around me waiting for me to slip up just once. Then you came along and made me feel like maybe I wasn't a total fuck up"
"Bucky you're an amazing person. A true hero in my eyes and the definition of a good man" you watched him crack a smile as he grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers. 
"Thank you" he said before kissing your hand. You both were exhausted, fighting to keep your eyes open. 
"You're welcome" you yawned pulling your body closer to his as you both held each in silence, sleep taking over your bodies
///
The next morning you woke to the feeling of Bucky's fingers trailing gently over your body, tracing every curve as if he was trying to memorize you in this exact state, "good morning" you say as you rub your eyes
"Good morning" Bucky gives a say smile still staring at you in adoration, "thank you for last night, that was probably the most I've slept in weeks" 
"Anytime" you smiled before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, "I have an early morning meeting but if you ever want to do this again I'll be glad to help"
Bucky chuckled, "I think I'll take you up on that offer"
///
Taglist
@wildxwidow @hackerholland @nelly-belly @marvelgurl @inas-thing @hehehehannahthings @prancerrparkerr @abiseifried @randomwriter1021 @hunnybunimdun @raajali3 @liltimmyst​ @Army24-7
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mediocre-daydreams · 1 month
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𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐬
📌 jen's favs 📎 drabbles 🔒angst 🌷fluff
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
under oath @ugh-supersoldiers
(series) the world needs someone to blame for the deaths that hydra facilitated for decades, and the target is on the back of the former winter soldier. the case is going to trial, and seemingly the guilt ridden bucky barnes can’t care less about the verdict.🌷🔒📌📌
café crema @wonderlandmind4
(series) the first time was an accident. the second time was coincidence. the third time is just unlucky. the fourth time is getting out of hand and the fifth may or may not be with intent. otherwise known as The One Where He Spills Her Coffee. (modern! au) 🌷
guiding light @wkemeup
(series) it was supposed to be a simple mission. get the intel and go home. until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by hydra. while you struggle to stay alive and hold your sanity, bucky begins to lose himself to a darkness and gives into the soldier because he doesn’t know how to breathe without you. not until he brings you home. if he even can. 🌷🔒🔒📌📌
two sides of the same coin @anonymityisfunwriter
(series) you've been in hydra isolation your entire life, and sam is tasked to watch over you. bucky can't understand how you came out of hydra so optimistic and decides he hates you because of it. as you integrate into society, the avengers team, and SHIELD politics, bucky ends up being your biggest supporter. (inspired by taylor swift songs) 🌷🔒📌
not happening @notimetoblog
(series) an online dating site clearly makes a mistake when it matches you with the one person you cannot stand. 🌷📌
tell me which one is worse (living or dying first) @nightowlwriting
(11k) you are in love with bucky barnes. for a long time, the both of you were joined at the hip but then your team stops being paired with his on missions. he stops inviting you over for movie nights. when it finally looks like things are looking up, you hear bucky talking with steve and... it's not good. 🌷🔒📌
safe with me @bitsandbobsandstuff
(series) when an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. as bucky barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realize falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected.  (bodyguard! bucky x journalist! reader) 🔒📌
heart of steel @invisibleanonymousmonsters
(series) sir james is known throughout the lands as the most fearsome and honorable warrior. ballads have been written about him. men fear him. he is the most trusted knight of the king henry. so why has he given up the glories of war and pledged his loyalty to princess y/n? 🌷🔒
just one kiss @sarahwroteathing
(series) bucky barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. how long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss? (40′s happy ending AU) 🌷🔒📌
pin it @buckysbabygorl
(1.6k) reader will fight barnes until she wins. bucky isn’t complaining, problem is he can’t resist pinning her to the floor. 🌷
better @captainscanadian
(series) dr. james barnes has it all: a loving family, caring best friends, and a successful career as one of the best heart surgeons in new york. he has everything he ever wanted his whole life… well, almost everything. one thing he never thought he could ever have was y/n y/l/n. she may have been a lot of things, but he loved her because she made him better. (modern! au) 🌷🔒
looped @softlybarnes
(15.2k) you are inadvertently trapped in a time loop without any memory of the last five years, including your relationship with bucky. but bucky would stay in the loop forever, explain everything again each day, if it meant getting to stay by your side. 🔒📌
you’re a what now? @floatingpetals
(1.6k) sometimes bucky’s girl is just a little, tiny tiny oblivious and doesn’t realize who she’s talking to. and sometimes she can say the darndest things. 🌷
i need him like water @pellucid-constellations
(3.1k) you think bucky’s having an affair. he thinks… well you aren’t sure what he thinks. but he must notice the living room light is left on. every night. 🔒📌
perfect @thesnowsoldierwrites
(3.5k) in which you and bucky have slowly become inseparable, and someone mistakes you for a married couple. 🌷
i’ll be there for you @aries-writingblog
(4.8k) even though they’re best friends, bucky can’t seem to trust himself enough to move in with y/n. 🌷
to build a home @fanficimagery
(5.7k) imaging being rescued from a djinn and having a hard time readjusting to reality after living a lifetime of an almost perfect life. 🔒
awake my soul @foreverindreamlandd
(series) (78k) it’s been five years since zombies first started walking the earth. when you stumble across two young, scared boys lost and being chased by walkers, you go against your better judgment and help them to safety. little did you know that helping them would lead you to bucky - an angry, grumpy, distrusting member of the camp shield. 🌷🔒📌
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pinkiebieberpie · 28 days
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sugardaddy!bucky would always take care of you, buy you anything you want, take you to all the fancy, elegant events; he is proud of you and he loves when people are telling him how lucky he is to have you (because he is the lucky one); your relationship is full of passion, but bucky knows how to be sweet and affectionate; it can be both "how is my sunshine today? are you feeling good, baby?" and "i need you now, be a good little whore and wait for me in the bedroom"; and let's talk about him wearing rings, cause fuck!!
bucky moodboards list
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bucky-bucket-barnes · 8 months
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I LOVE the way you write Bucky in all your fic’s 😭 you truly have such a way with words and his character!
Whenever you have the time, Is it possible to request a fic where reader and Bucky are friends but neither know the other’s feelings. Reader comes up with a nickname and randomly calls him by his initials B.B but Bucky has to do a double take because he at first hears “baby” and he’s just surprisingly all warm inside 🥺
Please and many many thank yous!
b.b. boy
Summary: Bucky and you have been friends ever since he arrived that rainy at the Compound. Silently pining, you’d hope he would pick on the numerous hints you dropped. It’s not until a small miscommunication happens that he confronts his feelings for you.
Pairing: avenger!reader x bucky barnes
Warnings: two idiots in love, friends to lovers, slow burn, angst, mainly fluff
Word Count: 3.6k
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The rain quietly knocked at glass as you curled up against your window seat. It was a quiet day within the Compound. Instead of relaxation, there was an unusual tensity in the air, though. Waiting in the living became too unbearable at first, the air feeling too thick to breathe.
Steve would be there any minute with Bucky. You knew who he was or rather you knew of him. You never had the misfortune of encountering him as the Winter Soldier, but word spreads quickly.
He’s good now. He just needs time Steve would reassure the team. It was hard to deny his pleas, he was only looking out for a friend. Still, that didn’t stop anxiety from pumping through the walls you sat in. Your phone failed to hold your interest and none of the books could keep you entertained.
So, patient as a flower in spring, you waited for the plane to land in the damp, grassy field outside your window.
Before the clock struck noon, the metallic vehicle descended from the gray sky. Even from a good distance away, you could make out the silhouettes that exited the jet. First Steve, followed by a brunette man, long hair clinging to his face as the rain fell on his temples.
A light knock came from your door, Natasha leaning on its frame, watching the same scene as you.
“C’mon, we should go say hi,” she said pensively.
You nodded in response, climbing from your comfortable position to follow her. You agreed you would slowly introduce yourselves to Bucky in an attempt not to overwhelm him. The nerves that buzzed in your chest caused you to regret volunteering to greet him first.
There was nothing to worry about, but that did not ease the queasy feeling that settled in your stomach.
By the time you made it downstairs, Steve sat alone at an oak table, contemplating silently. He looked up upon your entrance and gave a small smile towards your direction.
No Bucky, though.
“Where’s your friend?” you inquired, peering around the room, as if he might be hiding somewhere in the cabinets or under the table.
“He took the stairs. I think he just needs some time before he meets everyone,” he answered. There was a reassuring look on his face, but his tone said something different.
“Of course,” you agreed, “He’s got a lot on his mind. Whenever he’s ready.” You gave a small smile to Steve and Natasha before returning to your room.
As you waited for the day to pass by, curiosity began to eat at you. The less you saw the mystery man, the more you craved knowing him.
Why is everyone so nervous? He’s just a person.
By the time Natasha called you down for dinner, you had wasted two hours imagining what he was like. You didn’t get a solid glimpse at his face, but your mind wandered at what he might look like. Could you tell by his features alone that he was from the 40s? Was he as muscular as Steve? Was his voice high like a whistle, or did it have more bass?
The questions raced through your mind as you made your plate of spaghetti. Upon seeing your quizzical look at the meal, Steve gave a light chuckle.
“He’s from a time when we boiled everything, I don’t want to overwhelm his palette.”
Steve held two plates in his hand, one presumably that was going to make its way to Bucky’s room.
“I can bring him his food,” you offered a bit too eagerly upon spotting the dish. “I mean, his room is right next to mine and I was heading back up anyway.”
“If you insist.” Steve handed you the plate before making his way to the kitchen table with everyone else, two seats empty. One Bucky’s, one yours.
You crept up the stairs, fearful if he heard you coming towards his room he might scurry away before you could make it to the fourth floor.
His door remained shut, not a sound coming from the other side. Taking a deep breath you knocked softly. No answer. You knocked with more conviction assuming he didn’t hear your first attempt.
The door opened and you finally got to see the face you had been wondering about all day. He was handsome, blue eyes paired with dark brunette hair. His face was set in a permanent frown, his pupils swimming in perpetual suspicion.
An awkward beat passed before you remembered what you came up there to do.
“You didn’t come down for dinner. . .” you began to trail off despite yourself, struggling against his intense stare. It was like he was looking right into your soul with his icy gaze. “I thought I should bring it up. Y/N, I'm right next to you.” Your head tilted toward your door, giving him a gentle smile.
“Thanks,” he replied, taking the plate, not returning your grin with one of his own.
You remained there patiently, half expecting him to carry on the conversation and introduce himself. His lips remained sealed as he stood in front of you. He went to close the door before your eager hand caught it, shyly pulling away as his eyes stared intensely at your hold.
“Sorry,” you corrected, “I just wanted to say I’m right here if you need anything. Steve can’t cook so I know where all the spices are. . . or if you just want some company, I’m also here for that.”
“Thanks,” he replied quietly. He was hard to get a read on, for sure.
“It was nice meeting you, Bucky.” You flashed him one last smile before returning to your room.
Why am I so embarrassing?
You didn’t mean to be so pushy, you just wanted him to feel welcomed. It was silly, he just needed time, like Steve said, but you couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. Your worst day felt like a cakewalk compared to his lifetime.
Dejectedly eating your bland pasta, you spent the night watching rom coms to pass the time. Halfway through your second movie, you spotted a piece of paper near your door.
Curiously, you got up from your bed to inspect it. You didn’t recall having any loose leaf around, so it was unlikely it was there from earlier. It was a simple note, written;
Thanks for the pasta. I agree, Steve is a bad cook. Don’t tell him I said that.
- B.B.
A smile spread on your face as you looked at the scribbled thank you, slipping it into your pocket to mention later
-
It was the perfect day to head to the training room. Everyone was either out across the country following leads or were enjoying their Saturday mornings sleeping in. You best liked the gym when it was like this, quiet enough to hear the morning birds that remained nearby.
The sun was still coming up as you entered the facility. Taking a satisfactory deep breath, you walked in.
Something was different. You knew it as soon as you entered. The sound of flesh pounding against a punching bag faintly pattered in the back of the gym, adding an unfamiliar noise to this time of day.
Steve was prone to wake up at the crack of dawn to train, but he was in D.C. today, so it wasn’t him. Scanning your mind, you weren’t able to conclude who else could possibly be here. Who the hell else is up this early?
Sneaking around the corner, your question was promptly answered.
Bucky’s fists pounded rhythmically at the leather bag, hands never faltering in their pursuit. His wife beater clung to his chest, his hair tied back into a lazy bun. The way his body moved was like something you’d never seen before. Each jab was so calculated, so precise. It almost appeared robotic in nature.
Before you could slip away, he caught you from his peripheral, halting his practice.
“I didn’t know you trained.” You broke the silence, slightly embarrassed you got caught admiring, taking a step towards him.
He was now seated lazily on a stool, unwrapping the bandages around his hand. “I came down because I thought no one else would be here. I’ll go.” He didn’t look up as he finished taking the cloth from around his knuckles.
“No,” you insisted, “Stay. I just haven’t seen you around, that’s all. . .Are you going on a mission soon?”
It wasn’t hard to believe he might be back in action within a few weeks. He had had over a month to get acclimated to his new home and now even came out of his room to eat dinner with everyone. Maybe he didn’t talk except to say please and thank you, but it was still a vast improvement from when he first came.
He laughed dryly at the question, hooking a new punching bag onto the chain as the one he just used had been more than brutalized. “Steve’s not letting me go out anytime soon.”
“Then why do you train?”
He paused for a moment, a solemn look washing over his face. “I’ve been a soldier my whole life. My hands don’t know what to do when they’re not fighting,” he shrugged.
He apparently didn’t realize how incredibly disheartening that statement was. It wasn’t until he saw the saddened look on your eyes that he felt guilty for starting your morning with such a mood damper.
“I just like to keep busy, that’s all,” he added gently, adding a smile at the end of his words.
“Oh,” you replied quietly, unsure what to do.
Bucky normally would have left without any hesitation. He wasn’t that well acquainted with anyone except Steve and he didn’t particularly have any intentions on growing close to anyone in the Compound. He didn’t see everyone as a found family but rather live-in coworkers.
But watching you wrap your bruised knuckles, ever so delicately in the morning quiet, he felt his body pulling himself towards you. You had made countless efforts to make him feel wanted, personally knocking on his door to invite him to eat lunch, even asking if he wanted to watch a movie or two once in a while.
Bucky shot down all your advances, though. He wanted to reach for the olive branch you were extending, but he held himself back each time. He was scared. Not of you, but rather what his presence would do to you. He couldn’t tempt fate by bringing all his issues around you. Even his closest friend, Steve, seemed to be searching for a Bucky that died back in 1945.
Perhaps it was the way the sun peeked over the clouds, or just a stroke of courage that entered his body by chance, but he decided he wanted to be different that day.
“Actually, could we train together? Only if you want to-”
“That sounds great!” you encouraged, looking up from your hands to give him a bright look.
As you babbled on about all the things you two could do, Bucky didn’t even think twice about the smile that cracked upon his face.
-
A shriek ripped through your eardrums, your body shooting up in a panic. Feeling around for your gun, you aimed it at whatever unseeable figure lurked about your quarters, chest rising and falling frantically.
All that was present was the darkness that normally occupied your room at 2 A.M. sharp. Huffing out in relief, you placed your weapon back on your nightstand before you thought to investigate the noise.
Everyone else would have been asleep at this time, enjoying as much slumber as they could while not on a mission. The only people on the floor would have been Bucky and you, everyone else opting to live on the lower levels.
Bucky your mind echoed in realization.
For the past few weeks, Bucky and you had made a habit out of training together early in the morning. Soon, he would tag along with you as you did more mundane tasks, and eventually followed you around like a lost puppy. Honestly, you hadn’t even noticed how inseparable you two had become until Sam teased you about it.
“Y/N,” Sam greeted as he walked into the conference room. “Y/N’s second shadow,” he said, quirking his eyebrows at Bucky.
“Sam, be nice,” you scolded lightly.
“What? You two are conjoined at the hip every time I see you.”
“Sorry,” Bucky mumbled, slightly embarrassed others noted his habit of staying by your side. He felt like there was no expectation of who to be when he was near you. He was just Bucky. It was a nice change of pace.
“Hey, don’t be sorry. Sam’s just jealous,” you teased.
“Get a room you two.”
“Sammy!”
From your time spent together, Bucky was slowly beginning to lower the walls he normally kept up. It was nice to see how less guarded he was when he was around you, a shy laugh sounding from his mouth from time to time, even a few smiles being passed your way.
Groping around in the darkness, you made your way to his door. Knocking softly, you called out, “Bucky?”
“Yeah?” he responded. You could hear his labored breaths from the other side of the wall.
“Can I come in?”
Bucky swallowed nervously. He didn’t want you to see him like this, scared, panicked. He was in a much too vulnerable state to be perceived. In the same vein, though, he dreaded the thought of being in his lonesome for the rest of the night, fearful the night terrors could crawl back into his mind at any moment.
“Yeah,” he finally answered, running a distressed hand over his face.
Slowly, you opened the door, walking in quietly. Bucky was sitting up in his bed, shirtless, nothing but his dog tags clinging to his chest. Even in the darkness you could see the wide eyed stare he was shooting your way.
Taking a seat at the edge of his bed, you studied his body once more. Modest amounts of sweat were streaking his temples, his fingers still gripped tightly around his sheets.
“You okay?” you inquired, giving him a concerned look.
“Yeah, yeah. Just a bad dream, that’s all.” Though his words were meant to reassure you, his eyes appeared clouded over. He didn’t look at you, opting to stare out into the darkness of his room, as if something, someone might pounce at any given second.
You shot a saddened smile his way. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Bucky paused, fixing his gaze at you, perched ever so gently at the edge of his bed.
“No,” he spoke softly into the night. Not yet.
Rising from the bed, you let out a light sigh. You would be there when he was ready for you, and the time didn’t appear to be now. “Well, if you need me, I’m in the next room-”
“Stay with me,” he pleaded quietly, grabbing at your wrist before you could fully depart. “Please.”
It was hard to deny your shock at that moment. You could feel the quiver in his hands as he held onto you, baby blue eyes filled with a yearn you’d never seen in them before. It was hard for him to admit to himself, but he needed the company at the moment. He wanted your company more than anything.
“Of course.”
With that, you slipped next to him in bed, settling underneath the covers. You lightly laid your head upon his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat echo in your cheeks. Instinctively, an arm wrapped around your torso. If I can’t protect myself, at least I can look after you.
You were lulled to sleep by the light touches Bucky peppered over your body. A tender finger tracing shapes on your shoulder blades, his grip tightening around your body ever so often, in desperate need of feeling that you were there.
“Thanks, doll,” Bucky mumbled out into the night once he was sure that you were fast asleep.
-
Mission injuries were the worst. Forced to stay in the Compound, you cursed the cast that was now nicely fit to your arm. Honestly, your brain had pretty much blacked out what had happened. There was an explosion. Sam yelled duck. Suddenly, you woke up in the hospital with a broken arm and bruised torso.
Bucky ever so graciously volunteered to stay with you as your recuperate, aiding in your vein attempts to make sandwiches and scolding you for training while injured.
Now seated at the counter, you played mindlessly with a slowly wilting plant as Bucky prepared lunch.
“I’m almost done, leave the plant alone,” he called out, back still facing you as he cooked.
“How did you even see that?” you whined, hungry and impatient.
“Super soldier hearing. Nothing gets past me,” he answers promptly, much too focused on his dish to break his focus.
Bucky had insisted on making lunch that day. Normally you’d let him make you a sandwich or even pasta if you were feeling bold, but nothing else. As well meaning and loving as he was, the man couldn’t cook. In moments like these it was more than apparent he grew up in the 1940s.
“Hey, B.B., can you hand me a glass, I want to water this poor plant,” you asked mindlessly, focusing on its browning leaves.
Whatever concentrative state he was in was immediately snapped once he heard you speak. In an instant, his stomach was doing flips and his face was growing redder by the second.
Baby?
“Of course,” he blabbered out, fumbling for a cup, still processing what you had just said.
Face still a bright pink, he passed over the dish to you.
“Thanks,” you replied, slowly pouring the water onto the disheveled rose.
“Yeah,” he smiled shyly, admiring your focus on the plant. He liked the way your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, giving so much attention to one little thing.
Promptly remembering he was cooking, he turned back around to turn off the stove and serve your plates. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious.
“I’ve never made stir fry before, but Sam’s sister gave me a recipe to use,” he offered, placing the two plates down. “You said you wanted to try something new-”
“That’s too sweet,” you gushed, setting the glass down before hopping out of your seat to give him a hug. “You’re the best, B.B.” you praised, running a free hand through his oak hair.
“Oh wow,” he breathed out, the pink spreading across his face again.
“What is it?” you asked, clueless to why he seemed so bashful all of a sudden.
“I thought I misheard you at first. I guess not. . . I just- wow. I didn’t think this would happen to me,” he rambled, scratching behind his jawline shyly.
You were one of the most wonderful people he had ever met. He was a bit quiet, often stared for too long, and was a bit abrasive at times, but that never deterred you. You were bursting with love and kindness, it was just so easy to be near you all the time. After a few weeks, he felt romantic feelings forming, but he knew better.
I’m just a lot he rationed, wiping the thought from his mind. He feared it would be too different for you. A relationship with him was never going to be normal. Sure, he’d love to take you on dates and bring you bouquets just because, but there was a lot more. He had a lot to work through and he wasn’t sure anyone else wanted to join along for the ride.
“I’ve always wanted to give you a nickname,” you smiled. “I recently found the note you left, the first night you spent here. It was signed B.B. and I realized it’s a great nickname. But only I get to call you it, it’ll be our thing,” you beamed before taking your plate back to your seat.
Idiot, Bucky scolded internally. The warm feelings that clouded his chest soon were replaced by a sense of embarrassment.
“Yeah,” he said slowly, “It’s great, thanks.” Despite his minor heartbreak, he gave you a smile, hoping it would mask his disappointment.
“You’re not telling me something,” you accused, eyes narrowing playfully.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“What is it?”
“I’m fine.”
“Bucky.”
“Y/N.”
“I can go back and forth all day.”
He sighed, “I know you can.”
“Then tell me,” you pushed, “C’mon, you know you can tell me anything.”
He knew arguing with you wasn’t going to work, you were much too stubborn for that. The best course of action was to play it off casually. His eyes remained focused on the stir fry in front of him, feeling too embarrassed for eye contact. “I just thought you called me baby, that’s all,” he answered.
A wave of realization came over you. The blushing, the awkward response, his lack of eye contact.
“Oh. My. God,” you gasped, dropping your fork carelessly to look at him. “James Buchanan Barnes has a crush.”
“It’s not like that-”
“You have a crush on me?” you asked, heart spilling over with endearment.
Bucky looked up, your eyes big with adoration, your smile brimming with excitement. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought you looked absolutely enamored with him at that moment.
There was no point in hiding it anymore. “Yeah,” he answered sheepishly.
“James, I have been sending signals your way for months. I thought you didn’t like me,” you confessed, partially perturbed he could be so dumb.
“What?” he asked, baffled beyond belief.
“Yeah,” you confirmed. “I can’t believe it took a misheard nickname to finally get that across.”
You both laughed at how ridiculous you looked right now. For weeks on weeks you had been sending one another messages of your affections, the other seemingly never receiving them. It was a nice feeling to finally get off your chest and even better to know it was mutual.
“So, what’s the plan now, baby,” you teased, eyes focusing on Bucky’s soft lips.
“I guess that’s up to you, baby,” he answered back playfully, swooping you into a long awaited kiss.
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thenhewaswrongaboutme · 3 months
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Little Spoon
Prompt from @just-kinda-bored-blog:
I needs cuddles 🥺 Could you please discuss the differences between the cuddle styles of our supersoldiers?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Steve Rogers (yhhmsgm universe, established relationships)
Word Count: 600
sleepover blurb masterlist
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When the two of you are alone, Bucky is touching you almost constantly. A hand on your waist in the kitchen, his feet nudging yours under the dinner table, his legs stretched cheekily across your lap when you’re sitting on the couch. He’s addicted to your touch in every form, and he’d be a damn fool to not take advantage of the opportunity when you’re cuddling in bed. The way he wraps himself around you makes it seem like he’s trying to cover as much surface area as possible, because each square centimeter of contact matters and he needs all of it— all of you. You’ve called him a fucking koala more than once, and it’s not uncommon for you to wake up sweaty and overheated from being wrapped in his slightly-too-warm embrace all night.
Bucky sleeps soundly most nights now, even if it takes him a little longer to actually fall asleep. That doesn’t bother him, though. He likes those quiet moments when you’re snuggled up to him and sound asleep— mostly because then he can stare at you without the risk of getting caught and having you tease him about it for the next week straight. He likes how your eyelashes rest against your cheeks, and how your lips open slightly for your slow, rhythmic breaths. He likes to watch your expression change when you’re dreaming, and wonder if you’re dreaming about him.
Steve is more reserved during the day, almost to the point where he could be considered standoffish. He doesn’t mean it like that, though— even without enhanced senses, you can hear his nervous heartbeat pounding whenever you get a bit too close. You want him to be comfortable, so you don’t push him too much, even though you know he’d be happy to snuggle after he works through his anxiety about it. He’ll have to figure that out on his own, but when he does, you’ll be ready. You can’t resist some little indulgences now, though, and when you rest your head on his shoulder during movie night, you glance up to find him smiling.
Steve has a pretty good grasp on his size when he’s awake, but when he falls asleep? His subconscious still thinks he’s skinny and all of five feet tall, which means this king size bed is luxuriously roomy and he’s free to stretch out and roll around however he damn well pleases. Which is perfectly fine when he’s alone, but with the three of you together in one bed, things can get interesting.
A king size bed is a tight fit for two super soldiers on their own, so when you’re squeezed right there in the middle, you’d think everyone would be careful. You’d think everyone would be respectful of the minuscule amount of wiggle room. And for the most part, you are— but when Steve falls asleep, all hell breaks loose.
Some nights you’ll climb over to Bucky’s other side and shove him toward the middle of the bed so that he can fend off Steve like the brick wall that he is. He might squint at you in the dark and grumble some incoherent question, but when he catches a knee to the hip or has a bicep flung across his face, he understands. It only takes him a few moments to wrestle Steve into submission and fall back asleep.
It turns out that Steve never did outgrow being the little spoon. And, well, Bucky’s always liked being held, too.
It’s not like any of you mind. You get some decent sleep on the calm side of the bed with your arm around Bucky’s chest, your knees nestled into the crook of his own, and your face snuggled against his back. Steve gets to wake up nice and rested, wrapped in his best guy’s arms.
And Bucky? Bucky couldn’t be happier.
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736 notes · View notes
bentobarnes · 3 months
Note
Hi, can I request a Sebastian x Actress!Reader?
Maybe she's doing an interview to a tv show, and there's a game where the interviewed is supposed to choose between two people, and Reader always chooses Sebastian? Even when it's between Sebastian vs Chris Hemsworth (or Henry Cavill) bcz "Sebastian ir more... My type" and oh shit she let it slip, "also, he's married/has a girlfriend, so... I respect their relationship...?". And later after that Sebastian makes an appearance (maybe he was called to replace an guest who cancelled, god knows why, or she didn't know they were doing the interview together, she thought the host would call him in after she left) and she was shy cause she let the whole world know for a fact that he's her type and that maybe she has a tiny crush on him.
It's up to you if they already know eachother in whatever way (they worked together once, or they're friends, or they had something in the past) or they just had seen eachother in parties but never even talked (or he had a crush on her like she has on him, or he had watched something she starred).
Tsm, i love u and your works ♥️🥰
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⤿ word count : 1.1k
⤿ summary : you're doing an interview with ellen when everyone realizes that you have a crush on sebastian stan... and maybe he has one on you as well?
warnings : none just fluff
*feedback is appreciated. please reblog so it can reach more people♡
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‘’Please welcome, Y/N Y/L/N!’’ Ellen announced as the audience cheered at your appearance.
Playing it cool, you walked confidently to the white cushioned sofa. It was a winter edition of the show, and Christmas was just around the corner, making it impossible not to feel the spirit inside the studio.
There were a couple of Christmas trees with big, red ornaments, which circled the sitting area. Little and big snowflakes adorned the walls and the floor.
‘’It’s soo good to see you!’’ She came for a hug which you gladly returned.
‘’It’s good to see you too!’’ You waved at the audience before taking your place on the couch.
It was the third time you had been to Ellen, and the place was quite familiar. You enjoyed the type of interviews where you play games, and you knew this one was one of them, although it was a surprise and you could expect anything.
You just wished it wasn't something that was going to ruin your whole image or make you eat dog food like Jimmy Fallon once made you. It was worth it though, the question was a secret you didn’t want to reveal.
‘’I saw your movie The Gray Man and it’s amazing! Awesome movie! You play Dani Miranda, a CIA agent. But before we go any further, it’s been a while since you've been here so welcome!’’ Ellen greeted you again.
‘’Thank you! I’m really happy to be here! Thank you for having me!’’ You smiled widely and the people in front of you cheered. ‘’Also thank you for saying this about the movie! It means a lot to me, and the others included in the production. Plus, it was a great experience for me cause you know, I worked with Ryan Gostling and Chris Evans.’’ You giggled.
‘’That’s the thing! We talked the other day and you complained that you’re single, but I don’t think things with Ryan are going to work out cause you probably know he’s married, right?’’ The blondie chuckled and looked at the camera as you tried not to laugh and play along.
‘’Well yeah. Certainly not Ryan but Chris. Chris is single.’’
‘’We can see because we have prepared a game of who’d rather for you! Please show the first candidates.’’ Pictures of Ryan and Chris appeared on the screen and you hid your face.
‘’Here it comes! Okay, as we already said Ryan is married, so I’m choosing Chris. Let’s hope this gets me into a Marvel movie!’’ You giggled and another two faces replaced the previous.
‘’This is a hard one! Henry Cavill or Cillian Murphy. I personally would go with Henry.’’ Ellen placed her palm under her chin, thinking.
‘’No! They both have someone next to them! Do I really have to choose?’’ You asked. ‘’Yes.’’ ‘’Oh God, okay, let’s see. I think I like Cillian just a tiny bit better, probably because I have already worked with him and it’s not gonna be that embarrassing after he sees this, so Cillian.’’
‘’Now, Cillian Murphy or Sebastian Stan?’’
‘’Sebastian Stan all the way.’’ It didn’t even take you 5 seconds to answer as soon as you saw his pretty face on the screen.
‘’Well, that was fast… Let’s do the other! Sebastian Stan or Chris Hewmsworth?’’
‘’Look, Ellen, I appreciate our friendship but why the hell are you always picking married men? Anyway, even if Chris wasn’t married I would still go with Sebastian.’’ You looked at the audience and smirked as they started laughing.
‘’What is up with you and Sebastian? Is there something going on that we don’t know about? Off stage?’’ She questioned, the audience becoming quiet to hear what you’re about to say.
‘’Well, going on, no but from them all, he’s more my type and I absolutely adore Bucky Barnes and he’s Bucky Barnes, and how could you not choose this man?!’’ You rambled, blush flashing on your cheeks.
‘’Lucky for you because please welcome Sebastian Stan!’’ Ellen clapped her hands, leaving you with your mouth open in shock and reddened cheeks. Now that was interesting.
‘’It’s good to see you, Ellen!” He greeted her and sat next to you on the sofa… too close.
‘’Hi! I’m a huge fan of yours, it’s soo good to see you!’’ Sebastian started and you blushed even more but extended your hand to shake with his.
‘’Pleasure is all mine. I love your work as well.’’ Sebastian giggled a quick thank you before returning his gaze to the interviewer, who seemed rather pleased with bringing you two together.
After clearing out some information about both of your upcoming projects, it was time for another game.
‘’Okay, guys, so I want to ask you something. Sebastian, why are you ignoring Y/N on Instagram?’’ Ellen furrowed her brows. Your heart skipped a beat, knowing too well what she was talking about.
‘’What do you mean?’’ Sebastian looked at her confused and then at you with soft blue eyes. They were even bluer in real life.
‘’I’m talking about this interview of Y/N’s… Can we please play the video?” She pointed at the screen as an interview of yours appeared on the screen.
It was an interview with Josh during the press tour of your new movie and since Josh is… Well… Josh… He had to come up with something embarrassing.
“Y/N, who's your favorite Marvel superhero?’’ Josh peeked at the flash card in his hand.
‘’Easy! Bucky Barnes!”
“Okay… That was fast. Who’s your favorite villain then?” He questioned again.
‘’The Winter Soldier!” You exclaimed, not even thinking before answering.
‘’Wow, chill a little there! Who’s your favorite Marvel actor?”
“Sebastian Stan.” You giggled and Josh let out a sign of surrender.
“I think you should meet with him. You’re probably his biggest fan!”
‘’Well, kinda that’s the thing… He doesn’t even want to talk to me! Like, I followed him on Instagram and I have even replied to some of his stories but I never got a response back! It’s not like I don’t have the blue tick next to my name.’’ You took a sip from your water while shrugging your shoulders.
‘’Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! I haven’t even noticed your messages! I will fix my mistake as soon as we finish here! Promise!’’ Sebastian cooed, making puppy eyes as he put his hand on your shoulder in reassurance. You giggled at the gentle gesture.
‘’I would love that, Seb.’’
Now everyone knew you had a crush on Sebastian Stan and as the interview was about to end, everyone understood that Sebastian Stan also had a crush on you.
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whitexwolfxx310 · 5 days
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Good Morning, Big Bad (White) Wolf
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Pairing: Buckyxfemale!reader
Summary: After experiencing a breach at The Compound, Tony sets you up with an apartment of your own....next to Bucky.
Warnings: Fluff, angst, flirting, sarcasm, slight cursing, play fighting, emotional discussions about relationships, Y/N, minors: No I/A please!
Wordcount: 3.2K
Notes: Thank you so much for reading! Requests are open! Likes and reblogs are most appreciated!
Masterlist
Waking up the following morning, you swear it was all a dream. There is no possible way that Bucky had admitted to having feelings for you the night before. Opening your eyes, you're overcome by a wave of warm butterflies in your stomach. An instantaneous smile takes over your lips as you stretch out like a cat just waking up from a nap. Looking around the room, it feels familiar and yet completely new. For now, due to a possible safety breach, this is your new home for the foreseen future.
Sitting up in bed, you look around. It's like a hotel room; Simple, beautiful, but nothing personal. The thought saddens you a bit. You get out of bed, walking out from the bedroom and into the living room to find Bucky sitting on the sofa with a newspaper. He's such an old man. Hearing you walk in, he puts the paper down on the table in front of the couch and stands up. "Morning, Sunshine." He says warmly, but doesn't make any forward advancements. It's simple yet complicated just how chivalrous he is. But at the same time it’s comforting, knowing how patient of a man he is.
As if it were instinct, you saunter over to him to put your head on his chest, arms hanging lazily down at your sides. Bucky let’s out a small laugh as he wraps his arms comfortingly around your body, resting his chin on top of your head.
“Not much of a morning person, huh?” He speaks softly, and although you aren’t looking at him, you can tell he’s smiling through the words. Groaning faintly, you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. Holding onto you for a few more moments, Bucky starts trying to encourage starting the day by lightly rubbing his hands up and down your arms. As he starts pulling away you whimper at the sudden absence of heat, getting instant goosebumps.
“So…” Bucky starts, taking a few steps back. “I know how you are with ‘personalizing your space’.” He says, almost nervously. “I… went back down into your office and grabbed some of your things.” He points to the tv stand behind you. You turn to follow his gaze and find the picture of yourself and your brother, Luke. Your all time favorite picture. The one you look at every time you miss him. It’s the one thing you use to answer that age old question; If you could only take one thing from your house in the situation of an emergency, this would be it.
Bucky gently puts his arm on your lower back and slowly eases your body to turn towards the windowsill. There you find a vase of the brightest and most perfect yellow sunflowers. Next to the bouquet was a classic record player. He tenderly moves his hands to your shoulders, leaning in he says, “Sunflowers for my Sunshine.” in a low voice. Is this even real life?
In pure excitement you spin around, jumping up into Bucky’s arms, your legs closing around his torso like a small monkey in a tree. He supports your weight by holding you underneath your thighs.
“Is every morning going to be like this?” Your voice sounds just a bit too excited. Bucky laughs quietly “It can be, if you want.” He responds, looking up into your eyes and grinning.
“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.” You say, half teasingly and half truthful.
He smiles, “My word is all I have.” Returning the smile, your hand runs back through his soft, short hair as you plant a small, dainty kiss on his lips. His reply is to press his lips back into yours.
Straightening your legs to imply you want to get down, he helps ease you down onto the ground. Looking down, your fingers intertwine with each other in front of you. “I um… I was going to try out the gym downstairs. Might as well check out the amenities.” You awkwardly laugh. Bucky smiles and walks over the the island in the kitchen. On the counter is a rather full paper bag. “Good thing Nat stopped by and dropped off some clothes for you to borrow.”
You excitedly walk over and peek in the bag. Oh good, no leather or spandex. They really do think of everything here. Settling for black leggings and a oversized gray Motley Crue band t-shirt, you turn back around, “Thanks.” You say, impressed. “I’m going to go change, would you want to come with me?” You offer, hopeful that he’ll say yes. Any excuse to be with him, close to him, and cracking that exterior shell he hides behind.
“Yeah! I just have to change and take care of Alpine, I’ll meet you down there.” Bucky says with a tiny smile as he heads out of the apartment.
The door latch doesn’t even fully close before you grab the chosen stack of clothes and dart into the bedroom. You start your morning routine. (Well, rather as close as you could get to your typical regimen under the circumstances.) As if the apartment was completely set up in case of situations like this, it was completely stocked. Toiletries, brand new toothbrush, chargers, etc. Changing into the borrowed clothes, you finish by putting your hair up into a high ponytail, performing oral hygiene, and of course, deodorant. (Actually an extra amount for the gym.)
The gym is located back on the first floor. Walking in, you feel a sudden wave of insecurity seeing everyone training. Nebula and Gamora are sparring with one another while Clint and Nat are making small talk as they spot each other lifting weights. Sam is sprinting effortlessly on a treadmill without breaking a sweat. You decide to take the safe option, taking one as well. Stepping up, you press the 'Start' button and break into a casual walk. After warming up, you increase the speed to a light jog. Although, next to Sam it looks like a real life demonstration of The Tortoise And The Hare. But, Sam being Sam, he would never say anything.
"Where's the moody teenager?" He breathes, looking over at you through the mirror in front of you both. A small laugh escapes as you try to control your breathing. "He's a little hard to keep track of." Sam laughs. "You're telling me!"
Finishing up two miles, you hit the 'Stop' button with a little extra force. Normally you would have only done one mile, but Sam made the run look so easy that you decided to push yourself. Stepping off of the treadmill, you lean forward, resting your hands on your knees as the air feels tight in your chest. The sweat is quickly turning into a cool dampness on your skin. Finally feeling like your heartrate is calming down, you stand up to find Bucky. So much for managing my heartrate. There he stands in a plain pair of gray sweatpants and a loose fitted t-shirt.
"Speak of the devil!" Sam calls from a few feet over, still keeping the same pace on the treadmill with an eighth of the perspiration . This is embarrassing.
Being constantly surrounded by heroes, super soldiers, and enhanced individuals didn’t seem like it would be that much of a challenge. You grew up a military brat, constantly having to adjust and then start all over again. This is like apples and oranges. Maybe it was naive to think that they would be similar, but that’s what a learning curve is, right? We all have one thing in common though, how to manage loss.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sam. For someone who relies on flying so much, you sure do focus on cardio.” Bucky grins at Wilson in the mirror.
“Hey…” you say, pretending to sound offended. “What’s wrong with cardio?!” You tease.
“Not a thing.” He smiles.
“Well then…” you start, walking backward towards the open room filled with padded martial arts mats. “Show me.” You grin, stepping onto the mat. Bucky puts his hands up in front of him in a truce manner.
“Come on, Y/N. I don’t want to hurt you.” He says, sounding concerned at even just the thought.
“I guess you have nothing to worry about then.” You smirk. “Let’s make it interesting… whoever lands the blow gets to ask something personal about the other. Nothings off limits.”
“I could just ask.” Bucky says taking a step onto the mat.
“Yeah but where’s the fun in that?” You say, daringly. Bucky's head rolls forward, a small laugh escaping.
"There's no winning this, is there?"
"Nope!" You say as your hands curl into loose fists, knees bent with feet firmly placed, and your dominant hand closest to your chest. Bucky lazily mirrors the defensive stance, obviously taking this as some sort of practical joke. You take advantage of him only half paying attention and snap forward, pushing his right elbow down and away.
"Wait!" Bucky says, letting his arms hang down. His eyebrows raised, eyes wide, and jaw hanging open just slightly. You let out a small laugh, but don't let your guard down.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Barnes." You repeat the words teasingly as he had done to Sam. Still stunned, Bucky continues to stand there.
You lurch forward again but this time with a stiff right cross, which to no surprise, he blocks. Still in shock, Bucky is searching your face, occasionally looking at your hands which you use to your advantage. Using a swift kick to the left side of his abdomen. "Ugh!" He exclaims stepping back.
Laughing, you stand up straight. Someone else has joined in the laughter. Looking to the side of the mat is Wilson with his arms crossed, shaking his head.
"Man, what is it with you and getting your ass kicked by women?" Sam says, genuinely amused. Bucky shoots him a look through narrowed eyes.
"Yeah, Buck. What's up with that?" You say innocently taking a step forward and intertwining your hands together, looking up at him sarcastically sweet. Bucky, still flabbergasted just looks between you and Sam, still trying to find words. You take another step in closer with a flirtatious smile looking up into his eyes while leaning in. He does the same, so you utilize his distraction with a quick palm to his stomach. Only so slightly does he stumble back, but you take the opportunity to ever so swiftly sweep his feet from underneath him with your right foot.
He lays on the mat looking up at you in amazement.
"I'd say she's passed initiation." Cap says with a smirk. When did he even get in here?
Looking around, you see that a number of Avengers have gathered around.
"I know who I'm calling in for backup next time. Sorry, Nat." Clint jokes.
You crouch down and offer your hand out to Bucky. A truce. He laughs and reluctantly takes your hand. "I don't know if I should trust you." He says, apprehensively. Helping him up in a show of good faith (not that he actually needed help getting up) you laugh. "I guess I get to ask whatever I want then." You smirk.
Both standing up straight, you grin. "I know it's not just about the cardio." You laugh.
"Alright...everyone go back to....whatever it is you were doing." Bucky says, slightly embarrassed. Grabbing two bottles of water from a fridge on the way out from the gym, you hand one to him and crack open the other for yourself. Of course the coolness is more than welcomed after a nervous but fulfilled gym session.
"How?" Bucky asks, still blown away.
"Listen." You start, shaking your head. "My ego is not big enough to know that you could have laid me out flat in front of everyone. But, thank you for letting me humiliate you for a bit." You smile, nudging him slightly with your shoulder. He smirks in response.
"With having generations of military in the family, my dad thought it would be important to at least know how to defend myself."
"Your father's a smart man." Bucky says in agreeance. There's a small hint of awkwardness in the air.
"So..." You start, walking straight and not looking in Bucky's general direction. "About Sophie."
"What about her?" Bucky asks, nonchalantly.
"The situation still just seems so..." Your hands make little circles in the air, trying to find the right words. "So personal." You admit.
"Ah." Bucky breathes. "Still on that train, huh?"
"No seriously." You stop walking in the hallway. He turns to face you and stops as well. "This isn't meaningless to me, Bucky!" You sigh. "I need to know..." You whisper.
Taking a step towards you cautiously, he places both hands on each of your shoulders and looks down into your eyes. "I didn't-" He sighs. "I didn't know how to approach you about these...feelings." Bucky confesses. "Back in the 40's I would take you to a carnival and out dancing. Within a year we would have a house and be married, probably trying to start a family." Well that went from 0-100... Your face must have mimicked the thought because he starts quickly shaking his head. "Which is not how it works today, I know. I was trying to get an objective opinion from a woman who isn't an Avenger. Aside from you and Sophie, I don't have anyone else I could ask." Bucky admits.
His hands move upwards from your shoulders to cup your face gently. "This...is new for me." He breathes. Your hand reaches up to your cheek, delicately placing it over his. "Me too." You say in a nervous whisper.
"How about we figure it out together then? Just you and me, no one else?" Bucky offers. You nod your head and smile up at him. "Just us." You say in agreeance, placing a small kiss on his lips.
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kikixreverie · 5 months
Note
You mentioned abb riding with bucky in one of your nsfw drabbles and now I can't stop thinking about it. That's so HOT
Can we get more on it??
Sweet Distraction
Bucky Barnes x F!reader
Summary - An offered back massage turns into something much more enticing.
Word count - 2.1k
Warnings - Smut (+18), Ab riding, praise kink, swearing. pet-names and soft fluffy!Bucky.
A/n - Holy hell, I haven't posted any fics in over 4 months, 4 fucking months. Honestly I've been so busy and exhausted lately I haven't had the chance to do anything, but hopefully I can finally be back to posting more regularly.
I got this ask a long time ago so I'm very sorry it took me so long to finally write something but here I am. Also this got a lot fluffier than I had anticipated but hey ho.
I would also like to add that I’m not a big fan of this fic, but I’m using it as a small stepping stone to get back into writing and posting. There is more and better stuff coming soon. But enjoy this for now :)
---------------------------------------------------
Bucky was stressed.
After spending practically the whole morning training with Steve, and then the whole afternoon stuck in some pointless 'team meeting', he was very ready to finally retire to his room and spend the rest of the evening in his bed.
Well... Your bed.
You hadn't been official for long, in fact, neither of you had told anyone that you were dating yet, but that's not to say that nobody knew, neither of you were very subtle, especially considering the fact that Bucky hadn't actually spent a single night in his own room, 3 floors below yours, in weeks.
You knew where he was going the instant he excused himself immediately after the debriefing ended, up and out of the stuffy room before you could even blink. So you gave him a few minutes alone before saying goodnight to your colleagues and heading over to your room.
You couldn't hold back the smile that pulled at the corners of your lips when you found him sprawled out on your bed, laying on his front with his arms folded under the pillow he laid his head on.
"Buck, you asleep?" You asked quietly, making sure not to wake him if he was, but he shook his head, mumbling a tired no before turning his head to look at you.
You could see the dark circles under his eyes from the other side of the room, and you frowned at the sight, pouting slightly with furrowed eyebrows as you walked closer to him, crouching beside the bed.
"Hey, love." You whispered, brushing strands of hair away from his face, smiling at the way his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, savouring your touch, "How's it going?"
He sighed, "I'm okay, just had a long day I guess."
You nodded, standing up and walking to your closet to get yourself a comfy change of clothes, unbuttoning your shirt as you went. "Do you want a back massage?"
He paused, watching you with an intense stare as you pulled on a pair of comfy shorts, "No, that's okay, you don't have to-"
"Bucky. I wouldn't be offering if I didn't want to." You interrupted him, pulling on one of his comfy henleys and raising a brow at him, "Would you like one? I'd be happy to."
He hesitated for a few seconds, eyes raking over your form before he finally conceded, nodding as he buried his head further into the pillow, "Yes please."
You shook your head in amusement and walked back to the bed, sitting beside him and gently placing your hand on the middle of his back, "Could you take this off please?"
He nodded again, reaching over his shoulder to pull the cotton shirt over his head before tossing it aside, and you felt your mouth go dry at the sight.
He shivered when you pressed your palms to the warm bare skin of his back, the muscles at his shoulders rippling with the movement, his arms both lifted to rest his head, skin and silver metal alike.
It was then that you realised that giving him a proper back massage, whilst being stood beside your bed, that was much shorter than you'd ever noticed, would be more difficult than you had anticipated, so you stood silently for a while, trying to work out the logistics in your head.
"Could I- urm..." You hesitated, heat flooding to your cheeks despite the fact that you'd been sharing a bed with this man for almost a month now.
"You okay, sweetheart?" He asked, turning his head to face you, his cheek resting on the back of his flesh hand.
You froze for a second before nodding with a small smile.
"I was just wondering if I could...uh... sit on you?" You asked, a sheepish look on your face when he raised his eyebrows, "It would be a lot easier since the bed is kinda short and you're-"
"Absolutely you can, doll." He answered with no hesitation as he laid his head back down, a stupid smirk on his face.
You rolled your eyes dramatically as you climbed onto the bed beside him, then hiked your leg over his waist, not-so-carefully settling yourself onto his lower back, your soft, bare thighs pressing against his skin.
You felt as he chuckled lightly beneath you and couldn't stop yourself from smiling along, shaking your head with a grin on your face as you leaned forward and pressed the heel of your palms into his shoulder blades, before kneading upwards, desperately trying to ignore how practically godlike he looked and felt under you.
It was when he let slip a quiet groan that your blushing cheeks grew even hotter, your lip finding its place between your teeth as you used your thumbs to massage down his spine. You could feel the stiff tension in his back unravelling as you continued, his body no longer tense as he relaxed into the mattress.
God, you wished you could see his face right now.
You couldn't help yourself, not when his skin was so soft and warm under your hands, not when he let out a groan far too similar to a rather unholy-sounding moan, and you eventually found yourself leaning down, pressing yourself fully to his back as you kissed the nape of his neck, your lips lingering for a second before you travelled lower, kissing the divot in between his shoulder blades, and then further down his spine.
Each kiss you pressed to his back slow and steady, dusting them along his spine, peppering kisses across his shoulders.
Bucky had fallen silent since the kisses had started, and for a while, you thought that he had fallen asleep, but the pleased sigh that he let out when you inched closer to his neck was evidence enough that he was not.
"Honey." He murmured, voice serious and liquid gold, and you hummed back to him, kissing his right shoulder again, "Sit up."
"Hm?" You replied, doing as he'd asked, but before you knew it he was turning over underneath you, his hands braced on your hips once he had his back to the mattress.
Then he was sitting up with you, his fingers drifting to the nape of your neck as he leant closer, pressing his lips to yours.
You were in action straightaway, fingers against his neck and cheek as you settled yourself onto his lap, kissing him with the same fervour that he kissed you, and you moaned when he coaxed your lips open with his own, his tongue dipping into your mouth to glide against yours.
Falling back onto the bed, Bucky placed his hand on your lower back, pulling you with him and you both laughed when you landed not very gracefully, almost headbutting him as you landed.
Your laugh was quickly cut off though when he wiggled underneath you, getting himself comfortable on the bed, and catching you entirely off guard when he practically grinded his stomach against your core. You gasped at the mouth-watering feeling, freezing in your place.
"You okay there, sweetheart?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed as he eyed your expression. You didn't respond, just sat up on his stomach, heat creeping up your neck.
He glided his hands up your thighs, deft fingers slipping under the henley you wore to grip the soft skin of your waist, just above the band of your shorts, squeezing slightly.
It was still for a moment, Bucky watching you with calculating eyes until without warning, he guided you forward with a gentle roll of your hips, using his grip on your waist to grind you against him and your lips parted, your breath catching in your throat as your hands landed on his bare chest.
"Oh." He whispered, another gentle squeeze to your hips as he realised what had happened, and the mood changed instantly. When you finally gained the courage to look down at him, you found him staring up at you, an eyebrow raised with a small, knowing smirk gracing his lips.
His gaze was intense, eyes boring into yours as you nibbled on your lower lip.
"S'that feel good, honey? That why you've gone all shy and quiet on me, huh?" His voice was so soft, and you desperately wanted to roll your eyes at his teasing words, but instead found yourself rolling them back when he grinded you against him with much more purpose this time, the ache between your legs easing slightly with the friction of him against you. "Open your eyes sweetheart. I wanna look at my pretty girl."
The second your gaze met his, he rolled your hips again, and you instantly fought to close them.
"Open." Bucky reminded you, and you did as he said with a frustrated groan.
"Bucky I-" You cut yourself off with a broken moan, watching the way he slid his tongue across his lower lip to pull it between his teeth, biting down on the soft flesh that you wanted to do the same to.
"I know, doll. I can feel you throbbing on me, sweetheart." He groaned, rubbing his thumbs up and down your waist, before they snuck under the waistband of your shorts, "How 'bout we take these off, huh? I want you to get yourself off on my abs, honey. D'you want that? I know how much you like them. God knows you'd look like a fuckin' angel riding them, doll. Grindin' yourself on me, taking what you need. Can you do that for me, honey?"
You felt yourself melt further and further with each honey-drenched word he uttered, the throbbing in between your legs becoming so distracting that you couldn't help but drag yourself against him without the pull of his hands.
"Fuck. Please Bucky- Need it so bad." You couldn't help but whimper the words.
It took some awkward manoeuvring to get you out of your shorts, but soon enough you were hovering over his bare stomach, wearing nothing but one of his henleys with your heart thrumming in your chest.
"Go ahead, sweetheart. I'm all yours." He moved his right hand from your waist and glided his flesh thumb across your lower lip, noticing your apprehension before he slid his hand to the back of your neck and gently pulled you down to him, kissing you deep and slow, tongue dipping into your mouth and you couldn't help but lower yourself onto his abdomen as you got lost in the kiss, reeling at his groan that vibrated against your lips when he felt how soaked you were.
You rolled your hips against him, moaning into his mouth as the ridges and divots of his abs created perfect friction against your clit, easing you into a rapidly building rhythm.
When you no longer had the focus to kiss him, you sat up so you could look at him instead, your head tilting back as a moan tumbled from your lips.
As your hips sped up, Bucky pulled at the henley you wore, watching you intently as you rushed to help him take it off you, leaving you completely bare over him as he still wore his sweatpants.
"Fuck, sweetheart. You're such a good girl, y'know that? Look so fuckin' beautiful." He purred, showering you in the praise and compliments that only made the elastic band in your abdomen pull tighter, drawing closer and closer to snapping much sooner than you had expected.
Bucky then raised his hand to tease his metal thumb across your nipple, you gasped at the cool temperature of his hand, and with the sensation of his deft fingers twisting the sensitive nub, along with the drag of your clit against his skin, you were being pulled under, heat spreading across your body as you rocked your hips faster against him, your wetness coating his abdomen.
"That's it, baby. So good."
His praise drove you over that edge, your head falling back as your orgasm washed over you, white-hot pleasure spreading through your body in waves as Bucky returned his hands to your hips to help you rock against him when you began to slow down, guiding you through your climax and prolonging it for as long as he could.
You collapsed onto his chest when the orgasm subsided, your forehead resting on his shoulder as you caught your breath, your body thrumming as you came down, and Bucky held you close, watching you like he so often did.
"You're amazing, you know that?" He whispered, and you couldn't help but chuckle, lifting your head to meet his eye, returning his soft smile.
"But I ruined your massage." You joked, giving him an apologetic look which he quickly shook his head at, dragging his fingers up your spine, "Sorry."
"No need to apologise, doll. I appreciate the massage very much, but I could watch you do that all day." He replied, kissing the bridge of your nose.
"All day, huh? Think we could get away with that?" You challenged, and he gave you a wide smirk in return.
"Depends, doll. Are you up for it?" He teased, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, I am. But are you, old man?" You squinted at him, but he only leaned forward and kissed you again, deeper this time.
"Old man, huh? We'll see about that." He mumbled against your lips, the stress of the day forgotten with the beautiful distraction of you and your teasing smile.
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Text
You're My Mess | Bucky Barnes x Reader
Hi! This was a request from the always wonderful @the-kestrels-feather :)
Warnings: some blood / Bucky's injuries, ~nudity~ (but not smutty)
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A metallic scraping sound nearly scared you out of your skin. Maybe it was just noise from the street below. Maybe your weird neighbor was playing with his katana again. You pressed play on your paused tv show and tried to continue watching, but the sound persisted. It almost sounded like- was it coming from the front door?
In nothing but a pair of underwear and one of Bucky’s shirts, you tiptoed toward the peephole. It went against everything scary movies ever taught you. You can’t go investigate a strange noise. And you should never say “Who’s there?”- that’s how you end up dead. You wanted to make it to the end credits, but your many viewings of Scream clearly taught you nothing.
You held your breath as you peered through the peephole- if someone was here to kill you, you at least wanted to know who. And through the distorted lens, you saw a familiar face.
“Bucky!” you chirped as you threw open the door. Your hands were on him in seconds, grabbing his face and pulling him in for a long, long over-due kiss. 
“Hey, baby…” he dropped his forehead against yours. God, he needed this. He needed you. And nothing welcomed him home quite like his best girl wearing his shirt.
He pulled you into his body with a groan and a grimace. He’d taken his fair share of beatings- and a few of Sam’s- on this mission, and his body hated him for it. Yes, the serum would have him good as new in no time. But it didn’t dull the pain. It couldn’t save him from the vibrating agony that pulsed with each beat of his heart. The throbbing inside his head. But he needed to hold you. He didn’t care that your elbow dug into his stab wound. He’d been gone too long. And with his arms wrapped tight around your body, every last ounce of anxiety dissipated. 
“You okay, babe?” With your head pressed to his chest, you heard the pained sound rumble inside his body. It pinballed against his ribs and echoed under your ear. Bucky always came home a shell of himself. Empty. Hurting. It killed you.
“I’m good, just-“ he craned his neck back and forth, “sore. And tired. And I missed you."
He caught a glimpse of his dirty hand around your waist, and nearly recoiled. "Shit, sorry. I'm a mess. I shouldn't be-"
"But you're my mess. Come on, let’s get you inside, Sarge.”
You gently tugged him through the door and welcomed him into the warmth of the home you shared. He missed this space when he was away. The warm light, the shelves lined with classic books, the half-burned candles. This small apartment gave him a safe hideaway from the world that hated him, and shielded him with nothing but love and light. 
“Here, I’ll take this…” you slid his bag from his shoulder and dropped it to the floor. “And this-” Your hands made quick work of his belt, removing it and its many sheathed knives. “You know, sometimes I can’t believe that you actually have a utility belt,” you laughed. “I mean, you’re like Bat Man… or Wonder Woman”.
Bucky gave you an affectionate eyeroll and a strained laugh.
“Oh, and I’ll take this too,” you said, unbuckling the holster from his thigh. You couldn’t believe they made holsters big enough to wrap around Bucky’s beefy quads. His ‘thighs of betrayal’, as you often called them. 
“Alright, now come're,” you pulled him over to a kitchen chair and made him sit before sinking to your knees in front of him.
“Woah, woah, sweetheart,” Bucky teased, “At least buy me dinner first.”
“Oh, hush”, you stuck your tongue out at him. Truth be told, you’d been ready to jump his bones the moment you saw him. And wrapping your hands around his thigh to remove his holster had your mouth watering. But if he was hurting, if he was exhausted and depleted, your desperate lust for him could wait. He needed to heal before you replaced his stab wounds with bite marks and hickeys. You freed Bucky’s feet from his combat boots and made a move toward the shoe rack, but Bucky stopped you.
His hand darted out and hooked around your fingers, “don’t”.
“It’s okay, Buck. I’m just putting your boots away-”
“But- can you come here?”
He hated being needy. And clingy. And desperate. But after his time away, he needed you close by. He needed to make up for all the miserable days and cold nights spent without you. He needed his best girl. 
With a gentle tug, he pulled you into his lap. His arms wrapped around you as you straddled his hips, locking your bodies together. He rested his chin on your shoulder. You pressed a kiss to his cheek. A deep sigh fell from Bucky’s chest. The fear dissipated. The dread fell away. And suddenly, it was just you. Just you and Bucky and the home you shared. He checked his ghosts at the door and fell into the peace you brought.
“I’m so glad to be back”
“And I’m so glad to have you, babe. I’m so- wait, hang on…” You pulled back a bit and met his eyeline. “Why’d you knock? Did you lose your keys?”
Bucky let out an exhausted laugh, “No…but they were in my bag. And I was too tired to look for them.” He let his head fall against your sternum. He could fall asleep like this. “I just wanna go get in bed and sleep for fifteen hours, or so.”
You wriggled free from his grasp and tried to pull him to his feet. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, Sarge.”
But Bucky resisted. He almost didn’t have enough energy to stand, let alone shower. “But baaaaaby,” he whined, “I’m too tired”. His slumped shoulders and under eye circles told you as much. His mission was supposed to be four days- but he was gone for nine. Double the work, double the effort, double the fatigue.
“I know, Buck,” you said, cradling his face. “But you can't get in bed like this. Your hands are all covered in in gunpowder and there’s blood in your hair- blood I’m hoping doesn’t belong to you…?”
He nodded.
“I promise you’re gonna feel much better after a shower.”
He shrugged. He just wanted to crawl into bed with you- anything else was simply a distraction.
“It’ll be a lot easier to get the blood out of your hair if we do it now,” you said. “The longer we wait, the stickier it’s gonna get.” You could just see Bucky tomorrow morning, raking a comb furiously through his bloody hair and ripping it out at the root. “Okay, how about this: You stay here.” Bucky perked up. “I’ll go run a bath- that way you can relax a little bit and won’t have to stand in the shower?”
He thought it over for a moment. The idea enticed him, but didn’t convince him.
“And I’ll join you. I’ll help you get cleaned up. I can take care of all this…” you grabbed at a few strands of his hair. “And I’m sure you’ve got some wounds that need cleaning. Deal?” 
You knew Bucky’s injuries couldn’t get infected, but leaving them unattended felt neglectful. Regardless of the serum, he needed care. And you needed him to know how much he meant to you. After each mission, you cleaned and bandaged his fast-healing wounds. You gently freed them of debris and broken glass, checked on them until the serum made them vanish.
Although unnecessary, it showed Bucky just how important he was to you, how highly you valued his well-being. Before you, he didn’t care to disinfect or cover his injuries- he let himself bleed. 
Bucky didn’t hear anything after you promised to join him in the bath. His desire for sleep vanished, revealing an even deeper need: you. Your body against his. Your hands in his hair. Of course, he’d thought about fucking you since the moment he left- but this was different. He needed to feel you. To know you were there. To hear your steady heartbeat. Each new mission brought with it the fear that he’d never see you again. And it scared him more than any Hydra agent ever could. It was a fate worse than death.
Bucky nodded against your hand, his stubble scratching your palm. 
“Okay, you sit tight. I’m gonna go start the water.” You made an attempt to get up, but Bucky wasn’t having it. He refused to let you go for another few minutes, and you let him take his time. Coming down from a mission was hard on him. You moved at his pace.
When he allowed you to get up, you headed for the bathroom and filled the tub with water. Bucky remained in his chair, exactly where you left him. He felt himself nodding off a few times, but refused to plunge into full-blown sleep. He found himself teetering on the edge once again when you called to him.
“Ready whenever you are, Sarge!” 
You padded toward him, your clothes missing, and found him blinking away sleep. “Come on, I promise this won’t take long.”
At the sight of you, Bucky perked up. “I mean, if it takes a long time, it takes a long time…” he said, making grabby hands for your waist, “who am I to rush you?”
“You’re a fiend, you know that?” 
“I know. But I’m your fiend.”
With his hand in yours, you dragged him in the direction of the bathroom. A pitstop at the laundry room let Bucky shed his bloody clothes, giving you the chance to lay eyes on his body. You still weren’t used to his Adonis-esque physique. And you knew you never would be. But the blood and bruising distracted you. Red slash marks ripped across his abdomen. Purple bruises stained his shoulder. A bloody stab wound dug into his chest. And his back was just as bad.
“I know it looks bad…” he said, “but I’m fine. I promise.”
Bucky’s definition of “fine” never quite matched up with yours. And seeing him hurt never got easier. You swallowed the lump in your throat and ushered him down the hall. 
He grimaced as the hot water met the gashes littering his legs, but the stinging subsided when you stepped into the tub. Or maybe his open wounds still throbbed in the scalding water- he wasn’t sure. He was too distracted by you pulling him into your body. His shoulders rested against your chest and his head fell back against your shoulder, his nose brushing along your neck.
“Is that even comfortable?” you laughed, “looks kinda like you’re gonna have a crick in your neck by the time we’re done here.”
He took a deep inhale. And let out a long sigh. “Don’t care. Missed you.”
“Missed you more”.
You let him rest like that for a while, let him drink in the feeling of home. But you watched the water slowly redden, like you were steeping raspberry tea. “Okay, babe. We gotta get to work”, you said, forcing Bucky to sit upright. He watched you loosen the drain and run more water until the red tinge vanished. But he knew it would return soon enough. 
“Just tell me if I hurt you, okay?” 
He nodded. And you got to work. You let your hands weave slowly in and out of his locks, gently scrubbing and massaging his scalp with shampoo. He didn’t like putting you in this sort of position, but couldn’t stop himself from enjoying the feeling. He’d missed you so much. He thought about you constantly and ached for your touch. And even though the two of you sat chest-deep in blood-stained bath water, he smiled. He hummed in approval every now and then. He leaned into your touch. He felt safe.
Coagulated pieces of dried blood fused his strands together. You cringed when they plopped into the water. Every time you pulled your hands from his locks, a red stain smeared across your palms. Lathering and rinsing and re-lathering Bucky’s hair dyed the water crimson. And you feared it would never end. He’d loosen the drain, let the tub empty, and fill it again- only for the sickly scarlet tinge to return. You’d promised to do this for him, but it seemed as though you’d run out of shampoo before fulfilling your promise. 
Just as you used the last bit of shampoo, your hands returned from his scalp without a bloody stain. You dragged your nails across his scalp and inspected every last strand, finding no blood in sight. Finally. 
“Hair’s all clean,” you said, “now just let me condition”. Bucky gave a small nod, too tired and entranced by your scalp massage to really listen. 
And when you finished with his hair, you moved to his body. Both of you sat stewing in a bio-hazard of blood and grime- it almost made you sick. Breaking your promise, you made Bucky stand and take a proper shower. He groaned as you helped him up, but found his smile again as you pressed your body against his. Your hands worked over him slowly, ridding his battered body of gun powder and ash and dried blood. You helped him feel like a new man. 
And then it was your turn. Guilt soured Bucky’s experience when he noticed your blood-stained nails and red-streaked body. And he was determined to make it right. Just as you’d done for him, he carefully dragged his hands over every inch of your skin. He was thorough- maybe a bit too thorough- but couldn’t resist touching you. And you’d never protest. 
“You hang right here for a sec,” you said, “I’m gonna go grab us some clothes-”
“I mean, do we really need clothes?” He shot you a tired wink. Even exhausted, this man was a menace.
“I mean, no. We don’t need clothes,” you dropped your towel. “But you do need some bandages.”
Bucky sat on the edge of the tub while you carefully cleaned and covered his wounds. He never protested when you played doctor. Sure, it was more work for you. But he knew it made you feel good to take care of him. And it made him feel good to know how much you cared. 
“All done,” you admired your work with a satisfied sigh. “Let’s get you to bed, babe.”
Bucky followed you like a lost puppy, nearly stepping on your heels as he walked. This was the moment he’d been waiting for since the second he left. And as he collapsed into bed next to you, he finally felt at peace. 
“Can I…?” he asked, motioning for your chest.
“I’d be upset if you didn’t.”
With that, Bucky rested his head on your chest. His wet hair sent goosebumps flooding across your skin, but you didn’t care. You stroked his back and left kisses against his scalp, whispering ‘I love you’s every now and then. He returned each and every one. His arms wrapped tighter around you, as though he feared you’d disappear. 
“Go to sleep, Buck. I know you’re exhausted.”
“I know, I’m just-” a yawn interrupted him. “I just missed you.”
“And I missed you. But I promise I’ll still be here in the morning.” You pressed another kiss to the top of his head, “rest, baby.”
He took a few more seconds to drink in the environment: your warm body under his, the cozy blankets, the smell of your shampoo in his hair. And with his last conscious breath, he told you once more just how much he’d missed you.
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lovelybarnes · 6 months
Text
hopeless- b. barnes
pairings: bucky barnes x reader, natasha romanoff, steve rogers, tony stark. oc warnings: kidnap, torture, reader is threatened, rejection, ANGST about: request! “where bucky nd reader have a big argument nd then she storms out in the middle of the night leading to her being kidnapped. Then the whole time she thinks bucky isn't coming for her due to the fight” a/n: phew this took a hot minute. my longest fic. do not like the ending, but i hope you enjoy!!
bucky’s smile is wide as he observes you flit about your room, a silly twinkle in his eyes while they observe your exaggerated thinking gesture, obviously dramatic in your search for his next book to read. he leans against your wall, amused by your pulled features as they contemplate two different books: one red and well-loved and one blue and weathered.
“hmm, do you want something sad and romantic that has lines that make me doubt that i’ll ever find love,” you begin, raising the blue book higher. “or something classic and sweet and scary?” you continue, shaking the red one.
“how could you doubt you’ll find love?” bucky wonders aloud then, and you turn to your bookshelf again just to get away from the intensity of his gaze. 
you shrug, unsure of how to respond, busying yourself with putting one of the books away.
“it’s you,” bucky continues, stressing the pronoun as if its implication is obvious. “you’ll get the best love. the pure and mushy type.”
the lazy shapes your fingers are rubbing into the spine of your book slow as you soak in the implications that bucky’s words carry with them. when you force yourself to meet his eyes, you’re unsurprised to find them on you already, but it’s startling to meet their depth, the way they were willing you to turn around without your knowledge. you begin to walk toward him, feigning your purpose as handing him the blue book.
“yeah?” you find yourself replying as you step forward slowly, searching for something deeper in bucky’s face as it breaks out in a smile.
“yeah,” bucky agrees with dead-set certainty. “the universe would be insane for giving you anything less.”
you smother the bashful smile that fights to make only its whisper appear on your face, holding back the urge to look at the ground in overwhelming emotions due to the entirety of the situation—the implications that you’d thought ridiculous of you to even consider seeming more concrete with the honesty of the words that bucky promises to you, making his eyes gleam just a little bit brighter with an unbridled determination that you’d never seen before.
“anything less than what?” you ask, testing the waters simply for reassurance that might push you over an edge you aren’t sure you want to cross.
“anything less than what you deserve,” bucky clarifies. “the sweet, sappy love with the notes and pictures and gifts and safety and never letting you forget how loved you are. the basics.”
you cock your head at him, trying not to drown in the wishes you had listed long ago that tumble from bucky’s mouth. 
“oh,” you whisper, eyes flickering to the polaroids you have around your room, adorned with small, smudged words written messily in pen by bucky when he’d given them to you. there are post-its scrawled with his handwriting taped to your walls and hidden in a box underneath your bed. you can’t help but see the parallels between his explanation of the love you “deserve” and the love he constantly rains over you.
the attraction you’d begun to harbor for him yearns more at the possibility of it being returned—because here he is, laying it out for you with his reflection displayed on the plans.
“the universe would be insane to not give you that,” bucky goes on, the absolute resolve that you can make out in his words staggering. “anyone overall would be insane not to love you.”
there’s a twinkle in his eye that you’d grown used to, yet you observe when you look up at him again, what you were trying to do forgotten as you search his features. he doesn’t seem to acknowledge how deeply you scrutinize the softened lines of his face, the gentle lift of his lip as he looks at you.
you swallow, beginning to step toward him. “really?”
“yeah,” bucky replies like it’s obvious, nearly nonchalant but it fails with how deep his intent runs. 
you realize the space that separated you wasn’t all that large when you find yourself closer to him than you thought before, and your breath stalls, completely caught up in the moment. bucky doesn’t seem too different, dilated pupils unmoving from your face, tugging you closer without a single touch.
“oh,” you breathe out, goosebumps rising on your skin when bucky puffs out a gentle laugh, his hand reaching to set on your jaw.
“what?” he asks curiously, his thumb pressing soft shapes into your cheek.
it’s like honey, his touch, the severity of his stare clicking something inside of you that you’d been so afraid to open.
suddenly, you’re certain. because surely nobody can look at you the way bucky is looking at you—touch you with the care he treats you with, tell you all the things he whispers in your ear without reflecting the feelings you have for him.
“i love you,” you blurt, tangled in a breath with the relief of the admission finally meeting your tongue, watching as something passes through his face—surprise, at first, and then there’s a brief indication of relief, just a flash, gone quickly enough to let you believe it was simply a figment of your imagination. his fingers stop moving on your face, and suddenly his features harden, pulling his touch away entirely.
there are alarm bells ringing in your brain, because this is not going the way you’d convinced yourself it would. he was supposed to smile and kiss you clumsily, mumbling out that he loved you too and you would say obviously and he would laugh.
not removing himself from your reach, staring holes into your head, red bubbles of frustration darkening his eyes.
“what the fuck?” he snaps. and the words are so sudden and sharp that they nearly make you flinch, spine straightening with a velocity that jumbles your words with the speed at which they try to tumble from your lips. he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. 
“you what?” he demands, his tone foreign to your ears coming from the same lips that have never once let words edged with a raised tone slip past. bucky doesn’t speak to you like that. bucky doesn’t harden and bucky never raises his voice. not at you, never at you.
you swallow harshly, trying to remember the bucky that you know, convince yourself that this isn’t real—this is wrong—but his features are masked with a pinch you’d never seen directed at you, tense lines hardening his face with a chilling anger.
“i love you,” you repeat, but the words are weaker now, not as easily formed as the first time.
“no you don’t,” bucky interrupts immediately, thinning his eyes at you. “what the hell? no, you don’t—you can’t.”
you blink fast, looking away from his face, scrunched in anger, but he isn’t having it. “i do—”
“you can’t fuckin’ do this to me, y/n. i don’t need this,” he growls.
“what?” you croak. “i don’t—i thought you—”
“i don’t,” bucky snaps, forcing the lies to escape his throat. “i don’t love you.”
the words knock the air from your lungs, eyes beginning to burn with tears that don’t come easily to you. “what?” you whimper.
“how could you think i did?” he asks, ripping out your heart as it beats and shakes and sobs.
he tries to pretend like it’s not him who is saying these horrible things, as if he’s closing his eyes, hidden away from the body that continues to deny your confession for your own good. “what the hell is wrong with you?” he’s never thought his voice could be so harsh.
“i didn’t mean to—” you begin, your voice as small as you’d ever heard it, trembling with your worst fear solidifying. you should have known. how could you have been such a fool? bucky does not need to deal with one of the few friends he’s so close to in the tower having a stupid, unrequited crush on him. you’ve made things so difficult, you’ve ruined your relationship. “i’m sorry.”
“you’re sorry?” he mocks cruelly, shaking his head. “i don’t want this. i don’t want you.”
your neck snaps up when you hear him beginning to leave, rushing forward to tug his arm gently. “please don’t leave,” you plead tearily. “can we pretend like i never said anything? nothing will change, i promise. i can’t lose you.”
bucky’s laugh is cold, splintering through your heart. “how could you be so—” he shakes his head, shutting his mouth before he can finish his thought. “i can’t believe you.”
“i’m sorry,” you cry, tears bubbling down your cheeks before you can stop them in a stupor of shame. “i’m so sorry, bucky, i will do anything—”
“shut up,” he snarls, and the words die on your tongue with the venom in the way he looks at you. “i can’t even look at you right now. stop fuckin’ crying and leave me alone. i can’t deal with you.”
his words, dipped in his fury, are unrecognizable, foreign from the man who mutters jokes into your ear on movie nights and tucks pieces of hair away from your eyes, who deals with any problem with a deep breath and an assurance that it will be okay because he hates to get mad at you, he hates seeing you cry and there is absolutely nothing you could do to make him love you any less.
the sharp slam of the door of your room counters that, bringing with it the blade of the words that still thunder in your head.
your face crumples, hot droplets of tears burning your skin.
the heat of bucky’s anger burns even from where you’re standing, and the utter hatred in the way he looked at you, spoke to you, makes you shake. you stifle cries, desperate to not bother your best friend and slide down your bed to the floor, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood in a weak attempt to calm your cries.
you shut your eyes, bucky’s words displayed proudly across your dark lids. you straighten, sadness melting away into anger. you rub at your nose, face heating in your fury, and rush out of the room, not bothering to grab your phone or bag, uncaring that it’s the middle of the night and the sky is the darkest you’ve ever seen.
you pointlessly wipe your face with your sleeve as you rush into the elevator and push the button for the ground floor, your mask of rage slipping when you pass bucky’s room. your lip wobbles as you stare at the numbers above the elevator doors until you’re unable to help the sobs as your mind races to find a solution to what you’ve done.
this is your fault. this is your fault and you need to fix it or else the only person you’ve felt so much love for and so loved by will never look at you the same again. you can’t stand making bucky angry, much less causing something that will make his life difficult—especially after he’s worked so hard to create some sense of normalcy and trusting relationships—but it’s difficult to concentrate on how to fix it when the fear that you’ve ruined the best relationship you’ve had over your stupidity inks your thoughts.
you’re distraught enough to walk six blocks and never once notice the men that follow behind you.
your mind lags when you’re suddenly thrown against a wall, the hiccups from your sobs increasing because of the hand that covers your mouth. your vision is too blurry with tears for you to recognize any of the people that are in front of you, hands useless as they attempt to claw at the arms that hold you against the unyielding alley. the training tony had made you go through when he hired you as his lab tech feels useless as you choke on your grief and fear, weak in your struggles against their attack.
it’s easy for them to knock you out, and you can only feel the ache of your hurt expanding icily as your attacks cede, limbs growing limp, damp eyelids drooping shut.
-
your eyes are swollen when you come to again, and you can’t be sure if it’s from the crying you could still feel in your raw throat or the assault you couldn’t even remember anymore. you blink hard, trying to adjust to the darkness of the room you think you’re in.
briefly, tony’s voice rings in your head, reminding you to look for exits and weapons. you can only see one door in the darkness, and as far as you can make out, it does not have a doorknob. although you doubt you could muster up enough strength to escape from the binds that dig into your wrists and ankles, surely bruising your skin although you barely fight against them. the room is bare and unclean, with stains of the color of rust at your feet.
you know it’s no use screaming. all it would do is bleed your throat further and anger your kidnappers.
the name makes you flinch. the word feels so usual yet foreign in your mind. it’s unfairly common in your place of work, but never to you—not the scientist that tony keeps safely hidden away in the lab. not the tech that has gone on the field once and was stuck to bucky’s side for the entirety of the time.
the thought of him brings an ugly taste to your mouth and a new rush of painful tears. you fucked up the relationship with your best friend and now he was furious at you. he doesn’t even want to look at you. will he ever even get the chance again? would he notice you were gone? would he care?
there’s a faint commotion beyond the doors that makes your thoughts freeze in their tracks. your kidnappers are saying something.
the rightful title appears in your thoughts again, making the reality of your situation set in faster than you were expecting it to; you were kidnapped, and nobody was going to find you.
-
out of everything, it’s guilt that bucky is most accustomed to.
it’s heavy and spiteful, eating away at his mind until it’s clouded even the memories he’s tried to keep hidden away from the fog that is his sin. it sneaks into the crooks of his life—the argument his brain pipes up with when he’s debating taking the last donut, the reason that he doesn’t allow himself to enjoy himself fully—why he won’t let himself believe that your revelation was anything more than fake.
why would an honor so sweet be bestowed upon someone like him? someone with stained fingertips and a broken mind.
it screws with him, the possibility of the truth. because no matter how much the voice of logic in his mind insists that someone like you could never love someone like him, there’s the gentle light of hope that you’ve helped rekindle, nudging him toward something that will surely only end up hurting him, and most importantly, hurting you.
he brings with him pain and ghosts and you are so undeserving of it.
so no, he decides. you cannot possibly love him.
but the look on your face flashes in front of his eyes, and he realizes that the circumstance of you actually loving him back might be more dangerous than the lie of it. 
he needs to protect you—from him, from everything that haunts him—he loves you too much to let you fall into the fire that is him.
he did the right thing by rejecting you, yet the guilt continues to gnaw at him, the tears that wouldn’t stop sliding down your cheeks carrying something worse than what he expected. you’re what he has always wanted and he pushed you away, and as much as that is what he needed to do for you, he’s selfish in wanting you still. in any way.
he opens his eyes again with a sad little gasp, surprised at the chill that hits his face wet with tears he wasn’t aware of. he catches a glimpse of himself in his broken mirror, and he’s never hated the sight more, the words he spat at you tattooed on his skin in dark ink.
he shakes his head, standing from his bed to apologize until he can’t anymore and plead that you stay in his life.
he runs a hand over his face as he walks out of his room, clenching his jaw when he catches sight of the door he slammed now slightly open. he knocks softly, forcing his eyes to the ground when the door opens further.
“y/n?” he calls out hesitantly when there’s no response, finally looking up to an empty room. his brows furrow. something is wrong.
you never leave your room if you’re upset; it’s always either his room or yours, because your bed is here and everyone else is outside.
he opens the door fully when he spots your phone on your bed where he last saw it. in fact, everything is as he last saw it.
he knows he has no right after what he said to you, but his bad feeling won’t allow him to leave without knowing where you are.
“friday, where’s y/n?” he asks.
“miss l/n left her room three hours ago,” the ai responds curtly. and he swears it sounds colder than the last time he talked to her.
“three hours?” bucky repeats. friday confirms, and bucky shakes his head. “no… she wouldn’t leave her phone. where did she go? has she come back?”
“miss y/n left the building, and without her phone, i cannot track her.”
“you have to be able to do something,” bucky insists. “she’s a part of the team.”
“i am unable to do anything further without mister stark’s permission,” friday informs.
bucky’s fingers reach up to tangle in his hair, tugging in frustration as panic begins to brew. alarm bells are going off in his head and an anvil sits on his chest.
“well, get his permission,” bucky orders, but friday’s voice comes back as calm as ever as she rebuts him. he doesn’t care to stick around for the end of her sentence, taking off toward the door to head to tony.
he’s eating a granola bar with natasha and steve in a conference room when he finds him, features scrunching when bucky tells him to order his ai to track you.
“no,” he replies incredulously. “shouldn’t you know either way? you’re always attached at the hip,” he points out. bucky’s jaw clenches, mind running in every possible direction. natasha offers a scrutinizing glance, eyebrows joining. “actually, building on that—” tony starts. “wouldn’t blame her if she needed a little break.” he points the granola at bucky, but he isn’t fazed.
“something is wrong,” he says, as calm as he can muster. “friday says she hasn’t been in her room for three hours and she left her phone there.”
“so? she could’ve forgotten. maybe she left with wanda or bruce or someone. unlike you, she has more than one friend.”
“not today. not right now,” bucky snaps. “tony,” he pleads now, meeting steve’s eye. “something is wrong.”
tony’s features set as he scans bucky’s face, and suddenly something clicks, his head cocking to the side dangerously.
“what happened?” steve asks worriedly as tony finally reaches for his tablet.
“we had a fight. she wouldn’t leave for so long—without her phone, without telling anyone.”
tony listens along as he looks at the screen, typing things into the keyboard. “friday, get me all footage of y/n in the last three hours.”
“what did you do?” natasha cuts in, her words sharp as if she knew exactly what he’d said to you.
“it doesn’t matter right now,” bucky mumbles, his gaze glued to the screen. the screen showcases the hallway outside yours and bucky’s rooms, and he tenses as he watches the footage of you poking your head out from your door, greeting him with a smile.
“fast forward,” tony tells friday. bucky hoods his eyes when it lands on another screen, where he can catch his own muffled words, knowing what’s coming.
"what the hell is wrong with you?" he flinches at his own words, hating the sight of the shine of the tears streaking down your cheeks when he closes his eyes. he can feel natasha’s glare. more of his voice comes from the creaked door, your own clothed in tears.
"i don't want you." bucky squeezes his eyes shut. "stop fuckin’ crying and leave me alone." hearing the words in his voice hurts impossibly more than he thought it would. they’re sharper, more convincing than he thought, and the things he tried to comfort himself with fade away with the slam of the door after he walks out, the only sound remaining your cries.
“what the hell is wrong with you?” natasha echoes, her words echoing his from the video. “i’m going to murder you.”
“where did she go after that?” bucky ignores her. “i just need to know she’s okay.”
“you don’t deserve to know anything about her—” natasha hisses, beginning to stand from her chair, but steve sets a hand on her shoulder, directing her burning glare to the screen, where you leave your room, sniffling. the video switches to the feed inside the elevator, where buck can’t tear his eyes off of you as you sob, a hand desperately trying to wipe away your tears.
tony’s turned to bucky now, too.
bucky follows your figure when you leave the elevator and then the building, and friday fast-fowards through video feed from various different cameras until one finally slows, and you’re suddenly pulled into an alley. the angle is awful, but there’s just enough light to catch the light reflecting off your terrified face as three men push you against a wall.
the one not touching you catches sight of the camera, pulling a gun from his coat to point and shoot. the video crackles to static.
“no, no, no…” bucky mumbles, hands reaching up to his hair, beginning to tug. the clip replays, pausing on a close up of your face, cheek pressed against the wall with a force that must be painful, eyebrows joined and eyes widened in fear.
tony sets down his tablet with a quiet thump, rubbing the bridge of his nose, mulling over what he had just seen. natasha is still for only a few seconds before she’s into action, reaching for the tablet and beginning to mutter orders to friday. there’s an imperceptible shake of her hands as she allows a glance up to your face again.
“this is my fault,” bucky mumbles angrily. “fuck me. fuck me.”
“yes, fuck you,” natasha agrees, coolly and to the point, not once sparing him a look. “fuck you for saying that to her and for making her cry but mostly fuck you for not doing everything you fucking can to find her right now. fix your fucking mistake and get to work, barnes.”
he squeezes his fist, tugging on the bracelet you’d made and lovingly tied around his wrist. the emotion that had kissed his face pink and tugged his features in guilt disappears within a second, wiped clean enough for the memory of it to be hazy even if it was so fresh. he sniffs, nods curtly, and steps out of the conference room, entirely business even as he drowns in what you’ve always encouraged him to pour out to you.
“i’m gonna check the place we last had eyes on her,” he informs briefly, hearing no audible response from the distracted avengers inside the conference room.
he doesn’t let his guilt tinge his vision as he examines your blood on the wall, too terrified to let himself mess up at your expense again.
-
you gasp in air as soon as the wet towel someone had thrown over your face before dumping water on your head is removed, whimpers sewn in between desperate panting. your lashes are wet and hairs stick to your forehead, fat droplets of water running down your chin.
unforgiving fingers clasp your chin, cruelly tilting your face up to meet unfamiliar eyes. you squint against the light, wanting nothing more than to close your eyes and pretend that there is no man scanning your face hungrily, sinister amusement crinkling his eyes, contempt puckering his lips.
“such a pretty thing,” he drawls, a finger pressing into your skin. “i don’t think your avengers would be too happy to lose something as pretty as you,” he mocks.
“i’m not gonna tell you anything,” you croak.
the playfulness in his features disappears then, and his bruising grip disappears into a resounding slap.
you can’t help the gasp that parts your lips and stings your eyes, whimpers slipping past your throat when he grabs you again, pulling your face close to his.
“listen to me, little girl,” he growls. “either you tell me and i let you live or your stupid little soldier comes and i take my time killing him until you cough it up. then i kill you.”
you scan his face, swallowing hard. “you mean bucky? he’s not gonna come for me.”
“he will. and when he does, i’ll enjoy making him pay for betraying hydra. maybe i’ll have a little walk down memory lane. the doc left great notes on the winter soldier.”
you scoff, pushing past the fear although your trembling is undeniable. “didn’t you do your homework? bucky doesn’t give a shit about me. you really think he’d risk his life—his freedom for someone he doesn’t even like? you kidnapped the wrong person if what you want is bucky.” the thought is bitter enough to comfort you, the reassurance that bucky will be fine sweet enough to combat the acridity of his resent for you.
the man’s lip twitches, his eyes boring into yours as they try to find if you’re being honest. he shoves your face back, and you slam into the chair with a shuddering breath, the phantom of his grip still heavy on your skin.
he sniffs and gestures vaguely. “let’s give her the winter soldier treatment.”
your heart drops, memories of what bucky’s told you displayed across your mind until they blackout your mind completely, and the only thing left is a promise.
you are going to die today.
-
bucky feels blurry, as if he’s flickering in and out of awareness in his frantic panic. the words he says are cut and dry, carrying only information because it is the only thing he has the strength for—but it feels rehearsed, scripted.
he wishes it were. he aches for this not to be real, and what he would offer a god he doesn’t believe in for you is heavy on his mind, pleading so desperately that he begins to eye the tower, the team, and selfishly offer it all up for you.
his anger shoves him down on a chair, but his desperation is frenetic in its reminders that any second not searching for you is a second longer that you will be out of his grasp and in the thorns of someone else’s. the handles of the chair groan underneath the pressure of his fingers, wrapping around the metal in their attempts to clutch something tangible, something real and not the idea of where you are, or the leads that only end in strangled cries, the numbers that float by on the screen in front of tony. 
his arm sits heavy by his side, tapping the table curtly so as to have something to do, although bucky has never hated it more—to have something so sought after, stained with blood and tears and pain and bitter triumphs, yet be so incredibly useless when it counts.
he doesn’t want to ask what he can do because he should know. he got you into this mess and he should know how to get you out, but he’s flailing, his fingers only grazing the edges of everything he’s already done. he knows what it means and he wants to scream at the universe for it.
there’s a thin beep that echoes in the conference room, muting steve’s mumbled plans and bucky’s silent examination of any files he can get his hands on, although his eyes kept drifting to the grainy picture of you pressed up against the wall.
tony freezes, the pen in his mouth dropping as he stares at his tablet.
“what?” natasha demands, looking away from her work to catch sight of tony, all color drained from his face.
he sucks in a breath and taps at the screen. “friday, search for any identifying features, scan every pixel, do you understand?”
the large monitor in front of the table darkens for a second before a video begins to play, and it doesn’t take long for the team to figure out what’s going on. bucky’s heart drops to his stomach as he rises from his chair, breathing heavily. “no,” he murmurs, terrified. his worst fears come into fruition as he stares at your unmoving figure tied up in a chair, the shaky camera only allowing him view to the worst of your injuries—already darkened bruises littering your skin, smudged red on your face.
a different face overtakes the picture, dark eyes lit with amusement and crinkled by a smile. “a pretty thing, isn’t she?” he croaks, moving the camera back to you. he moves closer, and bucky feels bile rise up his throat.
natasha presses her eyes shut when the camera pans straight over your face, where bucky can see cuts and the indentations of fingers and hands. your eyes are shut, and you remain unmoving even when gloved fingers wrap around your chin tightly, tipping your head back.
bucky nearly follows her lead.
and then you groan. your eyes flutter open, but they only allow bucky to see the insipid acceptance that laces your irises, coated by fear.
“she’s holdin’ up better than we thought,” his tone is impressed, but as silence drags on, he becomes angrier, his hold on your jaw digging deeper until you wince and move back, but he doesn’t let you. “‘but she won’t for long.”
the camera flips back to him. “hey, winter. if you think you had it bad, it won’t be nothin’ compared to this. promise.”
the camera moves around, catching the ceiling and other frames while he seems to look for something. he hums in delight when he finds it, and excitedly waves a sharp blade in front of the camera. “she swears winter won’t come for her,” he starts, lips contorting in disappointment. the camera slips again to capture the blade against your skin. “but i kinda hope he does. for her sake. such a pretty thing… “
the conference room darkens, the video’s end calling for an entirely new wave of terror.
“we have his face,” natasha pipes up, weakly.
“‘lotta good that’s done us,” tony argues.
“we know she's alive. we have an image of where she is,” natasha snaps, stepping toward him. “and if you were as good as you say you are, his face would be all we needed.”
tony’s about to reply when friday cuts in, bringing up the frames of the video where the man was distracted. “mister stark, i have a location.”
the argument forgotten, natasha and tony snap to the screen. bucky stands, stepping toward them to see the blinking dot indicating your whereabouts. once his eyes have memorized the street names, he’s out the door and headed for his bike, the rest of the group not far behind. a plan is forming behind him, and he manages to catch the bones of it, his role outlined with enough trust for him to not question it.
the rumble of his bike underneath him allows him an anchor to reality, where he’s threatened to float away otherwise.
“i’m coming,” he whispers, speeding up as he remembers your desolate eyes and broken skin.  “just hold on, sweetheart. i’m on my way.”
-
there’s a pout on your kidnapper’s lips as he observes you, looking back to his wrist to tap his watch. judging by the ticks, it’s been too long since he’s sent the video. his jaw is tense, probably nearing realization that you were right. the thought is as satisfying as it is heartbreaking.
“i told you. you can’t get what you want from me,” you rasp.
the man scowls, nostrils flaring. his patience is thin and his anger raw, awakened with the gentle nudge of your words. he comes close enough for you to feel his breath on your face, and his fingers are around your neck when you close your eyes, unwilling to continue looking into his.
“i better,” he threatens. “that’s the only thing keeping me from screwing your mind up so bad you’ll be better off dead.”
you swallow hard, your consciousness vignetting as oxygen continues to escape you. you nearly wish it did so faster, but your torturer is too cruel for even that, releasing you as you begin to go limp.
you choke in air and cough, your tongue catching iron from the split in your lip.
he hums as he takes you in. “you’re like him. at least like how zola wrote about him,” he states, cocking his head at you.
“what?” you cough.
“the winter soldier. before he became useful,” he explains thoughtfully, eyeing you. he wipes away the blood from your cupid’s bow with a thumb. “if he won’t come, maybe we’ll make a new one.”
your blood is ice in your veins as you absorb what he’s implying. his touch is tender, careful on your skin. you flinch.
“imagine that. the wit of iron man and looks of the black widow. the ability of the winter soldier, but… no connections. no one to save the soldier this time.” his voice is dreamy, excited. “we’ll break you even worse. we’ll make you kill them all.”
“no,” you whimper, straining against your restraints. “no, please. just kill me, please.”
“i think he begged like that, too,” he muses.
-
bucky is tinged with the soldier.
he darkens his thoughts until they become locked memories with only bodies and guilt as remnants. but now, it’s bucky who pulls the trigger, who finds himself too bitter to pull punches.
he's left the guards to the rest of the group to move forward faster, sticking by natasha.
there’s a room at the end of the building, and he takes off at the same time nat does. she turns to him when they slow, catching the voice from the video. “you’re not going in there,” she tells him, pulling a gun from her belt.
“of course i am,” bucky argues, readying himself to kick the door in.
“this is your fault. you don’t deserve to feel like the hero, barnes.”
“this isn’t that,” bucky insists. “i need to feel that she’s okay.”
natasha settles an unsure glance his way, but the conversation is over, drowned by the dust that follows bucky’s easy entrance.
your kidnapper wears a coy grin, stepping in front of you, yet bucky’s zeroed in on you and the tears that streak across dried vermillion and dark purples. “winter,” he begins. “i’m so glad you—”
bucky takes off toward you while natasha ends the speech before it can start with a clean shot, watching as the man drops to the floor. she’s a quick step toward you before she stops, noting the anguish with which bucky spills over.
you're alive is all she needs to know, and she gets in a few more shots at the man who did this to you as bucky rushes to you.
his name falls from your lips in a small croak, coated in disbelief, obvious you had succumbed to the fear, slipped into the exhaustion and dreadful acceptance. but the torment displayed on bucky’s face is unlike you have ever seen before—crumpled far beyond what your mind could make up, and you allow yourself to fall into the hope you couldn’t help but hold onto, completely uncaring if this isn’t real because it’s so much better than what you will surely open your eyes to otherwise.
he is at your side immediately, face falling as he catches sight of the bruises that coat your skin. he crouches to you, undoing your restraints with ease. his strength makes you flinch, even though it’s not toward you, and he pauses when he notices, something you don’t recognize glossing over his face before he continues, attempting to be calmer.
you can’t stop looking at him, your eyes crazed as they scan the reality of him. you repeat his name softly, a beg of are you real? in the way you stare.
“i’m here,” he promises, a hesitant hand reaching out to you. the warmth of it as it comes in contact with your cheek is as safe as you remember his touch, and you lean into it, letting out a stifled sob of relief.
“you came,” you cry, throwing yourself against him. his arms wrap around you securely, pulling as close as he can with as much delicacy he can muster in his desperation. “i thought you weren’t gonna come,” you sob, grasping his shirt as tight as you can.
“‘m always gonna come,” he tells you, tightening his grip on you.
“you were mad. i thought you didn’t care. i thought—” your words cut off as you push your face into the crook of his neck. “you came for me.”
“i’m sorry,” he mumbles. “i’m so sorry, sweetheart. i love you so much, i shouldn’t have yelled—i shouldn’t have said any of that. i love you and i’m sorry i made you feel like that. i’m so sorry. i just need you to be safe. you’re safe now, i swear.”
you can only shut your eyes, unable to absorb his words in the relief that he’s here, real and solid and saving you like he always does. he mumbles his apologies as he gently hoists you into his arms and carries you out of the dreaded room, repeatedly pressing kisses into your hair between strings of i love yous and i’m sorrys.
right now, it’s enough that he’s in between your fingers, warm underneath your skin, his promises sweet against your neck. right now, the safety of him is enough.
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b6cky · 10 months
Text
sleepy
bucky always struggled to get to sleep, but y/n always tried to stay awake as long as he did.
SYNOPSIS: y/n is extremely sleepy and tries to stay awake, but has a habit of being affectionate and sentimental when they are tired. bucky loves every bit of it.
PAIRING: bucky barnes x gn!reader ( they / them )
TAGLIST: @inu1gf @sp1deys ( send an ask if you want to be added!! )
WARNINGS: short oneshot, mentions of cheetah incest (?)
author’s note: THIS IS SO SHORT IM RLLY SORRY
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“doll, i already told you not to wait up for me…” bucky whispered softly, as he climbed into the bed next to his partner, who was clearly hanging onto consciousness for dear life by reading something on their phone. bucky assumed it was a dumb article about the ‘top ten cutest, but deadly animals’, but bucky didn’t care enough to read the article title before he took the phone from their hands and turned it off.
“heyy.. i was readin’ that…” y/n whined, not bothered to even mask how tired they were.
“darlin’, you can’t keep waiting for me every night,” he said softly, plugging y/n’s phone into the charger.
“‘m not ev’n… tired, bucky,” y/n lazily smiled at him, as he turned back to look at them. he shuffled under the covers and pulled y/n close to him.
“c’mon doll, get some rest,” he muttered, relaxing as their soft fingers traced patterns into the fabric of his t-shirt.
“y’know… i love you.. love you so much,” y/n mumbled against his shoulder, letting the sleep reveal their every thought.
“yeah?” bucky smiled, “that’s good, doll, i love you too.”
“no.. no, nono, you don’t get it…” y/n shook their head sleepily, “i am soo… in love with you… sometimes, sometimes it’s scary.. like ‘m j’st lookin’… at ya… and my chest hurts.. ‘m like fuck, this is it! this… this is … how i die man… but then ‘m just like… oops! that’s j’st how muchh… i love you.”
bucky’s heart swelled at y/n’s rambling and just listened to them go on about their love for him, occasionally chiming in with a ‘yeah?’, or a ‘love you too’.
“bucky…” y/n whispered.
“yes, doll?”
“um.. you.. did you know.. that cheetahs are like.. all almost genetically.. identical?” y/n yawned in between their words, barely awake enough to have a conversation, but bucky was intrigued now.
“cheetahs are what?” he furrowed his brows, a small smile spreading across his face, as y/n sleepily looked up at him.
“yeah.. sad stuff..” y/n mumbled, “they are all inbred.. they’re like… the alabama of the … what’s it called? animal dome..”
“animal kingdom, honey,” bucky chuckled.
“yeah, yeah… animal kingdom… they’re inbred, so .. they aren’t .. genetically diverse, so y’know… they’re all clones.. fucked up genes,” y/n paused, their eyebrows furrowing together slightly, “that is so fucked… up.. that’s j’st so.. fucked up, so sad..”
“it is sad, now let’s get some rest,” bucky head y/n closer to him, as much as he would love to listen to their sleep deprived rambles, he knew they’d regret staying up to talk about how cheetahs were slowly becoming inbred because of incest.
“if i was.. a fucked up lil’ cheetah.. would you still love me?” y/n questioned, their eyes starting to get too heavy to open.
“that depends.. am i a cheetah in this scenario?” bucky asked.
“mm… yeah.. don’ want m’ boy wanting … to fuck a cheetah…”
bucky held back a laugh and shook his head, “well, if we were both cheetahs, we’d be related, so no. i don’t want you being a cheetah, i want you, doll, not cheetah you.”
“shit… i forgot they were inbred..” y/n whispered.
“yeah, now get to sleep, doll.” bucky whispered.
“okay, night night..” y/n mumbled.
after a few minutes of silence between the two, bucky had thought y/n was sound asleep, but they piped up with another question.
“i hope neither of us were cheetahs in our past lives, that’d be awkward.”
“i love you, doll, but it’s three in the morning.”
“my bad.”
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mellowpiepizzalamp · 5 months
Text
Cutting Buck’s hair
Summary: Bucky’s hair didn’t sit good with him anymore.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X F!Reader
Warnings: Fluff, my rubbish writing (it’s a warning)
Word count: ~1300 words
A/N: just a disclaimer I AM NOT A HAIRDRESSER, I just put Brad Mondo’s video into writing. Also, I love Bucky with long hair, but I couldn’t help but imagine something like this. Also, I think it’s free if like skin colour and hair colour description of the reader, exept she/her pronouns. If you find something let me know because it’s not supposed to be here. If I get any shit from someone for using dutch at the end I will block you because it’s my first language and I’d like to use it sometimes because I know I would if I was with someone who didn’t speak dutch. Bye loves!
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“Buck, can we go to the store today? We can get your favourite crisps too and- Are you okay?” she was cut off by the sight of Bucky tracing his scars with a judging look while his hair kept falling into his face as he stood before the mirror. 
He jumped when he realised she stood at the bathroom door. “Yeah, Yeah, fine. I was just uhm, what were you saying?” he said and scrambled to put on his shirt. 
“Bucky calm down. What’s worrying you?” she asked him and held him by his elbows. His hands were trembling and he doubtfully put his hands on her skin.  
“I- I just, I-” he couldn’t get the words out, avoided her eyes, breathed heavily and tears started to form in his eyes. 
“Do the breathing exercise with me yeah? In and out, slowly.” They breathed together until he could keep the rhythm. 
“I had a nightmare last night, but you were still sleeping when I woke up, so I didn’t want to wake you up, but that nightmare was horrible.” He managed to keep his breathing even but the tears still started. 
“You can always wake me, okay? No matter the reason,” she soothed and opened her arms for a hug. 
“I hate the scars and the stupid arm, but worst of all, I hate the hair. It reminds me of the Winter Soldier and I don’t want to be him anymore, never wanted to be.” He cried into her neck as he hid his face. 
After the year they had been together, she was proud of how far they had come. It was still hard at times but they faced it together. 
“Your body might have been the Winter Soldier but your heart and mind never were. And your body had changed too you know. You have scars from fighting on the side you have always wanted to, you have a different arm that’s way stronger, you get to decide who you are, who you love, where you go, everything. And if your hair is standing in the way of you being happy, we can cut it,” she smiled. 
He lifted his head and rested it against hers. “Will you do it?” he asked, just above a whisper. 
“I’m not a hairdresser,” she said nervously. 
“I don’t want anyone else to do it,” he said as he took a step back and look at the ground. 
“Okay, I can try. Don’t kill me if it looks bad,” she smiled and pulled him back and gave him a kiss. 
“I’ll lock you in the house with me if that happens.” 
“Ah, so I get to fuck up your hair and get a reward.”
Three days later she came back after buying some things she might need after the advice of a real hairdresser. 
“Buck, I’ve got everything, literally. I’ve got clippers, a comb, official hair scissors, even thinning sheers, metal hair clips, a water bottle spray thing and advice of a hairdresser.” She smiled as he came out of the kitchen, half his hair in a bun, and still eating cereal. 
“Thanks, doll, can we do it now?” he asked with his puppy eyes. 
“Of course! You go and sit down and I’ll get a towel and fill the bottle.” 
When she got that all she put the towel around his neck and carefully secured it with a safety pin. 
She grabbed the stool on wheels from her office before sitting down on it. “Want me to tell you what I’m doing?” He nodded and smiled at her through the mirror once she put it upon the table. 
She placed a kiss on top of his head before she began. “First I’m going to chop off all this length,” she grinned in an American accent she knew he hated. 
He mocked a fake glare that faded away with a kiss on his cheek. 
“Ready?” she asked as her scissors stood at the ready to cut the fist strand halfway. He nodded and met her eyes in the mirror. 
“You’re going to need to talk, otherwise it isn’t my fault I fuck up your hair,” she smiled. 
“Yes, I’m ready,” he said and heaved a breath of excitement. She cut it off and handed it to him. As she did the rest, it fell to the ground as Bucky still saved the first strands. “
Now, we have a very nice bob, something for you, monsieur?” she asked with a smile and he scrunched his nose. She kept playing with European words, as in words from European languages, as she was used to, due to her very Dutch background. 
“Then we need to section your hair,” she smiled and wheeled to get the metal clippers and comb from the table in front of them. 
“I’m going to comb it back and from here I’m going to do it like this and clip this up, see?” she turned his head for him to see and he smiled. 
She finished sectioning and took him through the process. “Now the clippers, with the longest thing for on it, I don’t know what they’re called,” she said and plugged it in. 
“Guards, need me to put them on?” “Yes,” she handed it to him. 
“Okay, she said I needed to hold the comb in one hand and the clippers in the others and do it like this,” she started and went around his whole head with a certain motion. 
“If I shave your ear off, that’s not my problem,” she murmured as she now did the parts by his ears as she’s been avoiding those. He smiled, making his ears move and she gave him a look through the mirror. 
“That’s dangerous Barnes.” She finished and got him to switch it to a smaller guard and repeated the motion but in a different way, Bucky didn’t know anymore but went along. 
She switched guards again and he figured out she was doing some sort of gradient on his hair, it started to look really good. 
“I’m fixing these bits now,” she smiled and cleaned up his hairline. 
She took the thinning sheers and cleared the top parts until they were both happy with it. She let down his top hair and parted it in two after wetting his hair. Then she proceeded to section it in more bits and cut it at an angle. She combed it back into the next small section and cut it off at the same angle and length. 
After measuring if the front two bits were the same lengths she did the other side too. She kept his hair wet throughout and was now putting a heat protector in his hair and blow-dried it. 
She styled it a bit to one side and then revealed it to him, although he had been looking the whole time. 
“I left it a bit longer on top so I don’t ruin it for the barber but I hope you like it.” He kept looking at it and couldn’t help but touch the back of his head. 
“Also, I uhm, I went off of this picture with styling. I hope I wasn’t doing wrong by doing that,” she held up a very old picture of him and Steve on a mountain on a mission. 
Bucky was speechless and just flung himself at her while he cried tears of happiness. 
“Thank you, how did you get that picture?” 
She smiled softly at him and said, “Steve owed me,” and winked. “I’m asking you later about that,” he said in her neck and dragged her over to the sofa and laid down with her. 
As he started to cry again she held him and let him do so. 
“Thank you so much, I’ve never felt more myself since falling off that fucking train.” he said with a teary smile before kissing her softly. 
“Anytime mijn lief.” [my love, in dutch]
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imaginedreamwrite · 20 days
Text
Wildest Dreams: Part 2
AN: A skiff of smut in the beginning
Steve drew his fingers down Bucky’s spine and up again, slowly and languidly feeling his mate shudder beneath his touch. His right hand was tucked under the back of his head as he stared at the ceiling and hummed, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. Steve was deep in thought while Bucky rest his head on Steve’s chest, the two entangled in sheets while some comedy played in the background on the small TV they set up in the corner.
“Do you remember…” Bucky had begun speaking, his voice soft and husky as he communicated with his best friend and lover. “…that omega that we used to be inseparable from?”
“I remember,” Steve had answered Bucky immediately, the two of them close enough to almost have the same thoughts, “her parents moved across the country.”
“She’s back,” Bucky had craned his neck, looking up at Steve through his lashes, cerulean blue eyes meeting stormy blue-green’s, “my mom told me. We know that her parents moved back last year, and now she did too. Ma said that she moved back because she hated being so far away from her parents. She’s transferred here.”
Steve inhaled sharply, his nose filling with Bucky’s scent while his heart thrashed wildly in its cage. Lately, Steve and Bucky had been thinking back to the daycare days and the omega that was as attached to Steve and Bucky as they were to her. Steve wondered if she had carried the same scent, or if it had frowned and changed.
It seemed so long ago, a distant memory that was filled with fuzzy images of the other kids they went to daycare with and the soft muffled voices that weren’t quite clear enough to be detectable. It was a memory that wasn’t inherently clear, however, if they focused hard enough they could remember the sound of her giggles and the way her scent seemed to coil around them like a blanket. The omega they knew, that had been so attached to them, had been ripped away after a doctor and therapist suggested that if the three had stayed close it would be detrimental to their socialization skills.
They would become too close and in becoming so close, they would isolate themselves from others around them.
It was recommended, and the decision was made. When your dad got a job offer across the country, it seemed like the perfect time to split up the trio, even if it ended up with immense tears being shed. You had left, and Steve and Bucky stayed and continued living in the same neighbourhood.
When Bucky’s dad, George, died a few years ago it could be a catalyst for the three of you to see each other again, but there had been a few factors that kept you apart. Their moms told them that you had watched the funeral online, and had sent your condolences, but then it fell silent again.
“Y/N,” Steve spoke your name, trailing his fingers back down Bucky’s spine, his own body shuddering when Bucky had slipped his left hand below the blanket and brushed his palm against the heady head of Steve’s cock, “we called her Omega Bean.”
“Beanie baby,” Bucky turned his head, his tongue and lips suckling Steve’s bare chest, “she was the cutest little omega.”
Steve hummed in agreement, the soft rumble of his chest growing when Bucky grabbed his shaft and pumped twice. Blood rushed to his cock, and his head had become engorged and swollen, Steve’s eyes screwed closed when Bucky shifted on the bed and threw the blankets back.
Bucky’s tongue had been trailing a deliberate path down Steve’s abdomen, to the illustrious V that led to his impressive and throbbing cock. It was a tense moment, a moment where time had slowed down and nearly come to a complete stop where Bucky had teased him, had puckered his lips against the head of his cock.
“Bucky just-“ Steve hissed and threw his head back when Bucky had enveloped Steve’s twitching head into his mouth, the blonde’s hand immediately set upon the back of Bucky’s head. Steve’s fingers wove into the strands of Bucky’s silky brown hair to push his lover to take more of his cock into his mouth, desperate need rumbling in his chest.
“Bucky, fuck-!” Steve’s head lolled back and his back had arched when the tip of Bucky’s nose touched Steve’s flesh, his mouth stretched around the thick girth. “Feels so good…”
There was rising sexual tension that was thick and banded, the air had grown heavy with the sound of Bucky slurping and sucking Steve’s cock, and Steve’s cursing. There was a moment of intense intimacy that was fuelled and rooted in the news that their old friend was back, the tension was driven by the news that someone they had known would be their omega, even from the moment they met, was back in their lives.
They hadn’t taken much of an interest in other omegas, occasionally they would have a threesome however more often than not they would take their sexual tension out on each other. Like now, like this moment where Bucky was sucking Steve’s dick like he was dying. It was the sounds of pleasure that echoed off the walls, that had reverberated against every possible surface as the two of them took stock in the feel of each other’s pleasure before they were needed on the football field.
It was part of their partnership with the student union to host and be a part of the introductory and welcome party to the university, a task set upon them that they weren’t entirely looking forward to. They had far too much on their minds otherwise than being on the field wearing their gear in order to run plays and grab hopeful freshmen to try out for the team or even volunteer. An added benefit of them being there meant that the cheerleaders would be there dressed as well, the push to gather attention and interest in the competitive sports was unrelenting.
“Bucky, fuck…”
“I know you’re going to cum,” Bucky swiped his tongue along Steve’s shaft, feeling his cock twitch in response, “you’re close-“
“Fucking swallow,” Steve growled and shoved his mouth back down, that domineering part of him taking hold again, settling in for a moment as he assumed the dominant role. “Don’t make a mess.”
Silence was combatted by the sounds of sucking and curses, and it had all come to a head when Steve had growled and cursed, his head thrown back, the veins in his neck pronounced as he came in Bucky’s mouth. His thick spurts of cum swallowed as Steve wanted and only when Bucky was done had he pulled his mouth off and licked his lips, then stuck his tongue out to show Steve.
“Fuck,” Steve exhaled in a huff, running his hands through his hair, “I feel like I could go again.”
“Not now, Stevie.” Bucky crawled up his chest and kissed him quickly, letting him taste himself, “we’re going to be late.”
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The pads on his shoulders felt tighter today, and the jersey seemed to irritate him no matter how he tried to adjust it to fit. Everything just felt wrong, and he almost wished Coach didn’t insist on making them run plays to garner attention, it wasn’t as if they needed it. The teams were as thick as thieves, they were making plays that were as brilliant as they were tight which had already struck an impressive reputation for the boys on the team.
Still, Coach insisted. And with the football team, had come the cheerleaders and their sparkly uniforms that had gained different kinds of attention altogether. The girls that Steve and Bucky had become good friends with, the dancers who were all sweet and kind in their way, didn’t find any enjoyment in this either. They felt like they were there as pretty little bobbles and decorations to draw in freshmen and graduated high schoolers who were looking forward to their college years.
“Nothing sits right.” Steve huffed, complaining to Bucky who had set his helmet on the grass to help Steve. “I’d rather not do this.”
“Quarterback and captain of the football team complaining about things being too tight…”
“Bucky, I swear to God-“ Steve growled, his eyes burning into Bucky’s as the halfback laughed under his breath and tugged on Steve’s jersey, fixing the placement that he was complaining about.
“Is that better?” Bucky teased, nudging his helmet aside and leaning in, almost as if he was going to kiss him before he pulled away at Coach’s whistle.
“Barnes! Rogers!” Coach called them to split them apart, ushering them to their places with a nod of his head. “Get on the field with Levinson so we can run some plays.”
Bucky had bent to grab his helmet from the grass, and when he had stood again he had noticed the transfixed haze in Steve’s eyes. The way his best friend and mate had become catatonically enthralled by something or someone in the crowd had stirred Bucky’s attention, and after he cast a look over his shoulder he had understood why.
Steve was watching the crowd, enraptured by a single soul among the crowd who was watching the team with mild interest. They didn’t need to be close enough to catch the scent of the omega or even see the breathtakingly stunning eyes that could have pierced through them. They knew, they both felt the figurative shift of the earth beneath their feet from the slightest appearance of the omega they once knew among the field to watch the team.
It was the single look, the first appearance in years and yet both alphas had felt the surreal jolt deep within their souls.
“Omega Bean.” Steve whispered it first, he was in such a thick and heavy trance that he hadn’t felt or heard their coach calling him from further down the field.”Fuck, Bucky-“
“I know.” Bucky exhaled in a huff, just as stunned as Steve was.
They knew you were on campus, and they knew you were enrolled in the university but to see you in person, less than a hundred feet away from you was a surreal experience. They knew they had to have known, that things would not be the same as they were in daycare and yet it didn’t seem to matter. Appearances alone were enough, seeing you on the sidelines was enough for the two alphas to feel their entire world shift.
“Barnes! Rogers!” When their coach called again, Steve and Bucky had snapped out of their haze and had gained the ability to move again, both of them yanking their helmets on. They had crossed the field and joined their team again, the two of them taking the positions necessary to run the play Coach had planned.
Steve dug his heels into the turf and tucked his head, he kept his breathing even and slow as he counted down the milliseconds before the whistle was blown and the call from the other half of the team, who was playing the opposition, was made. The play was in motion and he had moved by memory, every action and step, every subtle bounce to his steps as he turned to avoid a tackle was instinctual.
The whole half hour seemed endless as they ran play after play, as they had worked through the usual tactics when they practiced for the purpose of stirring attention in the program. He was used to the noise, he was used to the sound of the cheerleading team calling from the sidelines, their pompoms waving and the skills they had exuded as they had done flips and tricks were all typical.
It was all the usual.
But your presence was not.
You watching them was new, and when they had come to a stop, Steve had ripped his helmet off and dropped it on the sidelines. He followed his inner drive, the internal compass that would always lead to you or to Bucky, the innate pull that made him want to find you.
He had stepped off the field and onto the sidelines, his chest rising and falling with every gulp of air as if he was trying to weed through the various scents to find yours. Even if it was only the tail end of your scent, he was desperate to find it just to see how different it had been.
“Steve! That was amazing!” A cheerleader, one who had been one of his and Bucky’s casual hookups once upon a time, had bounced on her heels and hugged him. There was nothing but friendship behind the hug, nothing but a friendly congratulations as she snaked her arms around his neck, and he had instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist to settle her down, his eyes still piercing the crowd to find you.
“Is she here?” Bucky jogged up behind him, his helmet discarded like Steve’s.
“Oh, are you talking about that omega?” Their cheerleading friend had turned, while still resting against Steve, and pointed toward you as you sat wide-eyed on the bench. “She’s so cute!”
“Yeah,” Bucky smiled crookedly, “she’s a cute thing, isn’t she?”
She had waved with her pompon, stirring your frown and narrowed eyes. You had scowled and rolled your eyes, standing abruptly and stomping on the stands as you moved. There was a phantom memory of you in rubber boots splashing on the sidewalk through puddles that had hit both Steve and Bucky with potency, making the two alphas grin in unison.
“Clearly she’s not happy to see you.” Their friend laughed and tossed her pompom at Steve’s head, laughing at his sudden turn. “What’d you do?”
“Nothing,” Steve huffed, “haven’t seen her since we were five.”
“We got our work cut out for us, punk.”
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