#that one Bucky has full access to and he spends way too much time on it
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Looking Too Closely (Bucky x Fem!Stark!Reader) -- part three
I did not expect to get so invested in this damn fic but here I am :))
Summary: The one in which Tony invites you to the “family dinner” but you sleep through it. Also, the “Father Test,” as Tony calls it.
Warnings: angst (what’s new?), talk of food/eating (so sorry, I should’ve tagged this a lot sooner!), medical stuffs (needles, blood being drawn)
A few hours pass by slowly as you doze, floating in between sleep and consciousness, both places completely unsoothing to you.
You wake abruptly when FRIDAY’s voice echoes throughout the room. “Do Not Disturb overridden by Tony Stark.”
With a groan, you sit up, listening to Tony knock — though surprised that he even does.
“Come in,” you sigh.
The door swings open and Tony opens his mouth to speak, but stops when he sees you on the floor. “What…” He glances between you and the bed, giving you an incredulous look. “What’s wrong with the perfectly new bed I gave you?”
“The least of your concerns should be that I’m taking a nap on the floor,” you deadpan. “What do you want?”
“Dinner will be ready in a few,” he says, still looking at you all concerned. “We have a family dinner once a week to...build rapport.”
You raise an eyebrow.
He continues. “You live here now, so...you’re invited. Wanda and Pepper will be there. Bucky, too.” Tony pauses. “Bucky didn’t bother you earlier, did he?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, good.”
“You bothered me, Tony.”
“Right,” Tony nods. “Sorry about that. I shouldn’t have brought that stuff up. I should’ve just been happy that you’re okay.” He pauses again, like he’s having trouble putting all the words together. “I am, by the way. Glad you’re okay. I’m sorry you went through that.”
“Thanks,” you say slowly. “You don’t have to worry about it.”
Tony offers a half-smile, half-grimace, because what you don’t know is that he has FRIDAY currently working on a full, extensive background check on your mom. And you, but your mom is top priority. Ever since the conversation in MedBay earlier, he’s been worried. For your safety — both past, present, and future. But he’s also worried about who you really are — and the worst worry of all is that you might not even know.
“Anyway, dinner in a few,” he says. “Nothing fancy. Come as you are, all that bullshit.”
You snicker at his reference.
He tries not to think of it as too much of a win. “Oh and,” he points to the bed, “it really is new. No one’s slept in it before you. And you can adjust the settings on it — softness, heating, cooling, all that. Just,” he pauses again. “FRIDAY, will you show Y/N the control panel?”
“Yes, Mr. Stark.”
Your eyes widen when a hologram appears next to the bed, projected onto the wall. There, all the settings — and many more — that Tony mentioned are shown.
“When you get it set where you like, FRIDAY can save it for you,” he explains. “Just for whenever you feel like sleeping in a bed again. I guess.”
“Thank you,” you murmur, looking over at him. “Really, thank you, Tony.”
“No problem, munchkin.” He smiles fully this time as he leaves, closing your door. And to your surprise, he activates Do Not Disturb again.
Food is the last thing on your mind, so instead you head over to the hologram on the wall.
You spend the next hour and a half fixing the settings. Once you get it just right, though, you lie down and you sleep.
Soundly. For five hours.
+++
When you wake again, you’re confused and disoriented to find yourself sleeping in a bed. But you love that your back, shoulders, and hips aren’t screaming in pain for once.
One glance out the window tells you that you’ve definitely missed the dinner Tony invited you to, but you don’t care all that much. You’ve met everyone individually. You didn’t really need or want to go to a big dinner. It seemed pointless.
But, unfortunately, you are hungry, so you drag yourself out of bed to go to the kitchen in search of something resembling food.
One glance at the clock in the hall tells you it’s just past midnight, so you relax even more, knowing you won’t encounter anyone.
Or at least, you hoped.
There, leaned against the kitchen counter, straight up guzzling a glass of water, is Bucky.
At least it’s him, you think.
Bucky smiles gently when he sees you coming. “Hey.”
You offer a slight nod and a quiet “Hey” in return, going straight to the fridge.
“Oh, the plate in there is yours,” he says. “Top shelf.”
You look up and spot it, your eyes widening as you grab it. Did they eat monstrous portions here or something? It must weigh five pounds or something crazy.
As if reading your mind, Bucky says, “Sorry there’s so much. I think Tony went overboard.”
You blink down at the food. Tony made you a plate? You expected Pepper to do it, if anyone. Quite frankly, you weren’t expecting it at all. You figured they wouldn’t even notice your absence.
Bucky wordlessly steps to the side, giving you access to the microwave. It even looks expensive, which makes you snort. It’s touchscreen. Of-fucking-course.
“We missed you at dinner,” Bucky says. You didn’t know he liked to talk this much.
“I fell asleep,” you confess with a laugh. “Tony uh, showed me the controls for the bed.”
Bucky raises his eyebrows. “No more sleeping on the floor for you, then?”
You shrug.
“I sleep on the floor most nights, too,” Bucky continues, taking in a deep breath. “It’s just…”
“Normal,” you finish quietly.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “It feels normal.”
You turn back to the microwave, opening the door a second before it beeps. The food is warm enough now, you guess. Where the hell are the forks, though?
After opening two drawers, Bucky realizes what you’re looking for. “Here.” He opens the drawer across from you and pulls out a fork.
“Thanks,” you murmur, taking it from him. “Night.”
He nods and gives a slight wave. “Night.”
+++
The next day, Pepper stops by your room with a ton of clothes, shoes, and a phone.
“Uhm, thanks…”
“I know it’s a lot,” she smiles gently. “And if you don’t like anything, just let me know. Or if I didn’t get anything that you need, let me know, too.” She pauses. “You don’t have to do it now.”
“Okay,” you sigh, trying not to feel overwhelmed, but it’s hard. There’s like...fifteen bags on your bed right now. Not to mention the boxes of shoes that are stacked on the floor. And the new phone, still in the box, that you’re holding in your hand.
Pepper points to the phone. “It should have my number, Tony’s number, and the rest of the Avengers programmed in there. You’ll see one named Happy, that’s just Tony’s assistant, just in case. You don’t have to talk to everyone on there, but they do have your number as well. It’s all a precautionary thing. Oh, and the phone can be tracked.” She pauses, lowering her voice. “Just a heads up. In case Tony goes crazy.”
You smile at that. “Thanks.” As if he hasn’t already gone crazy and driven you closer to insanity, too.
“Speaking of Tony,” she says. “He’s willing to do the paternity test whenever you are.”
“Okay,” you nod. “Is today good?”
Pepper blinks. “I don’t see why not.”
“Okay, just...I’ll put some clothes on first.” You’re still wearing what Wanda gave you.
“Yeah, of course,” she nods. “I’ll let Tony know and whenever you’re ready, you can just ask FRIDAY to take you to the lab.”
“Okay.”
Pepper leaves you be, while you get dressed, and it takes you a lot longer than you were expecting.
There are so many clothes.
After finding something somewhat comfortable (and because you’re tired of looking through the bags), you grab your phone, though it feels foreign having it in your pocket.
“FRIDAY...where is the lab?”
“If you head to the elevator, I’ll take you there.”
“Thanks.”
“Of course, Y/N.”
Following FRIDAY’s orders, you head to the elevator and step inside. The doors close and the elevator begins to move, and when it stops, the doors behind you open.
“Welcome to Mr. Stark’s lab.”
Hesitantly, you step off, and you’re met with blaring music.
“Really?” You scream, and Tony lifts his head. “AC/DC? Really?”
The volume lowers a little while Tony replies. “You know your music. I’m impressed.”
“I’m disappointed,” you say. “I prefer Pink Floyd.”
Tony smirks. ‘Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2’ begins to play. You hate that you grin, but you do.
“Much better,” you comment. “Pepper told me to come here?”
He nods. “Right, the Father Test.”
You snort. Of course he calls it that.
“We’ll have to head down to MedBay to do it. I’ll be done in just a second.” He taps something on the screen before looking back up. “Did Pepper give you your phone?”
“Yeah.” You pull the device from your pocket and wave it. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”
“I’m not gonna leave you stranded without a phone,” Tony replies. “Also, just for the foreseeable future, don’t leave the Tower without someone. Preferably without me.”
You furrow your eyebrows. You hadn’t thought about leaving and going anywhere until now. “Why?”
“Well, for one, you have an arrest warrant,” he reminds you. “They won’t question it if I’m with you. Which is why it needs to be me — Steve is also fine. But, let’s say, if you left with Bucky, they wouldn’t hesitate to grab both of you.”
“Wasn’t he pardoned or something?”
“Doesn’t mean no one holds a grudge against him.”
You nod. “Right.” Then, you reel back. “So you’re not going to turn me in?”
He shrugs. “I believe you. Even though you won’t tell me who stabbed you.” He taps something else, then drags the screen, and a hologram appears right in front of him.
You roll your eyes. “Because I don’t know who they were. I told you.”
“And I still think you’re lying,” he retorts.
You glare at him through the hologram.
A few more minutes pass where all that fills the silence is Pink Floyd. You’re not complaining, but even Tony’s breathing is grating to your ears.
Once he’s finally finished with whatever the hell he was doing, he heads to the elevator, and you silently follow him.
+++
This time when you enter MedBay, it’s empty, aside from the on-site doctor, Dr. Cho.
“Here for the Father Test,” Tony quips, smirking when Dr. Cho rolls her eyes at him.
You like Dr. Cho already.
“Alright,” she says, putting a pause on what she was doing. “It’s just a simple cheek swab and a little blood.”
“Blood?” You ask. You hate having your blood drawn. Not because of the needle, but because of the idea of your blood being drawn out of your body and used for things you’re unaware of.
It’s creepy.
“Just a small amount,” Dr. Cho assures you with a soft smile. “It acts as a double-check for the paternity test. The cheek swab can give us a general yes or no, but blood is definitive.”
You agree, you just hate it.
First is the cheek swab and Dr. Cho lets you do it, probably sensing your anxiety. She refuses to let Tony do his on his own, but that probably has something to do with how much of a child he is.
Tony gets his blood drawn first, and it is too short for your liking, because once he’s done, Dr. Cho preps you.
Your head is turned the other way while she wipes your skin. Tony moves into your line of vision, and you’re ready to tell him to fuck off before he teases you, but he doesn’t.
He just talks to you.
“Barnes told me you fell asleep yesterday.”
You furrow your eyebrows. “Yeah. That’s why I missed dinner. He said you made a plate for me?”
“I did,” Tony nods. “I didn’t want you to go hungry.”
“I could tell,” you snort. “There was enough food on the plate to feed four of me.”
He chuckles. “Did you at least eat?”
“Yeah, I did,” you say. “It was good.”
“Good. How’s the bed?”
“Really good,” you say. “Thanks for showing me the controls and stuff.”
“No problem,” he shrugs. “Nat asked me earlier if you’d like to train with her and Wanda.”
“Train?”
“Yeah, train, workout, whatever you want to call it. Barnes and Rogers usually run if that’s more your speed, Wilson, too, when he’s here.”
“Who’s Wilson?”
“Sam,” Tony fills in. “Falcon.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“He’s in...Louisiana right now, but he should be back here in a few days, so you’ll meet him.” He pauses. “But...stay away from him.”
“Why?”
“He’s...flirty.”
You nearly wheeze. “Are you joking?”
“Nope,” he shakes his head. “I’ve been meaning to say that about Barnes, too. I don’t care if you talk to him. I think it’s good for him — and you. But don’t…” He waves his hands in an ambiguous manner.
“Tony, the absolute last thing on my mind right now is a boyfriend, but even if it was, why would you have any say in it?” You counter.
“Because I know them, and I don’t want them anywhere near you,” he says, like that’s the end of it. “All done, Dr. Cho?”
“All done,” she confirms, and that’s when you feel her pressing a Band-Aid over your skin.
Your head whips around. You didn’t even feel the needle go in or out. What the fuck?
You look back at Tony with a small smile. “Well played.”
“You’re welcome,” he smirks. “Though, I wasn’t kidding.”
You roll your eyes. “Not even Nat or Wanda?”
He looks surprised, but still shakes his head. “Still no.”
“Darn. My plans have been foiled.”
This time when he looks at you, he smiles.
As the two of you are walking to the elevator, he says, “Want to help me in the lab? I’ll let you control the music — just this once.”
You almost say yes, but you’re not really in the mood. “No, thanks though. I really should go through all the clothes Pepper brought me.”
“Ah, right,” he nods. “She told me she went shopping.”
“Yeah…” You exhale. “She went.”
You step onto the elevator after him, and he presses the floors for you and the lab.
“You know, Wanda might help you sort through the clothes if you ask. She might wear whatever you don’t want.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll ask.”
“She’s training right now, though.”
You nod. “Okay. It can wait, I guess.”
Tony rocks on his heels. “I could really use an extra set of hands…”
You roll your eyes. “Fine.”
He grins. “You still want to control the music?”
“There’s no way I’m letting you play AC/DC the whole time.”
#looking too closely#tony stark#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes x stark!fem!reader#bucky barnes x fem!stark!reader#bucky barnes x stark!reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#james buchanan barnes#james buchanan bucky barnes#oooohhhh why the blood draw#oooohhhhh#interesting#i'm so sorry in advance LMFAO
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The one with the surprise
Part 5 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)
Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different point in their friendship - very slow burn!
Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, cockwarming (later chapters)
Will include elements of TFATWS in later chapters
Chapter 5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist
“C’mon, where are you taking me doll?”
Bucky trailed behind you, his feet dragging as he continued to moan about your late night adventure. You’d lured him out with a promise of pizza but as you exited the train in Queens, his mood had turned sour.
“Not much further, I promise” You waited for him to catch up and looped your arm through his. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”
“Pineapple on pizza comes to mind” He muttered, eyes darting around the quiet street.
With a sigh you dug into your purse and retrieved your secret weapon “I’ll give you these if you stop whining” You shook the bag of cashews you’d picked up from the store in front of his face before swiftly moving it from his grasp. “Nope! Hey!” Bucky had made a grab for the bag but you’d quickly anticipated his move and spun on the spot, taking it out of reach.
As you turned, Bucky’s arm moved with you, pulling him into your back as you bent over in an attempt to stop him from getting his snack.
You laughed as he snaked his arm around your side, pulling you flush against him as he tried to take the bag from you, his fingers brushing your sides in an attempt to tickle you.
With a jolt, your ass pressed back into him in a vain attempt to free yourself from his grasp. You both stilled as your behind pressed into his crotch, acutely aware of just what you were feeling. Bucky was the first to act and swiftly removed his arms from around you, glancing around in embarrassment.
Standing straight, you adjusted your dress which had become dislodged. “Shall we?” You asked, trying to act as though nothing happened.
“Yep.” He responded, a bit too quickly.
To try and ease the tension, you ripped open the bag of nuts. “Here” You threw one toward him which he caught with his mouth effortlessly. “Thanks doll”
You smiled back and looped your arm back into his, directing him down the road.
A few minutes later you arrived at your destination and you held your breath as you both looked up at the building.
“What do you think?”
Bucky simply glanced down and smiled at you, his white teeth catching the light from the street lights.
“This is one of the very few perks I get with my job, I figured who better to enjoy it with?”
“How do we get in?” Bucky asked, pulling you towards the doors at the front.
“Security will let us in, they’ll be doing the odd patrol as standard but apart from that, we’ll have the place to ourselves”
“Y/n… this is incredible”
“Yeah well… I knew you wouldn’t come here because of the crowds and I didn’t want you to miss out.”
You’d brought him to the New York Hall of Science in Queens way past closing time. After dedicating to a ridiculous amount of unpaid overtime, your boss had finally relented and given you access to the contacts who ran the museum. Using your company's connections, you’d manage to swindle full exclusive access to the museum for the entire night.
Over the past few months you’d picked up on Bucky’s interests, one of them being technology. Despite spending most of the last 70 years in a big freezer, he loved technology of the modern age, often speaking of the projects Shuri was working on in Wakanda.
You spent the next hour or so strolling around the many exhibits, reading up on each subject and interacting with the activities throughout the building. Bucky didn’t know where to look next, each section of the museum peaking his interest more and more.
“Okay so I may have one more surprise for you” You confessed as you gently steered him towards the theatre.
Bucky remained silent as he felt himself become overwhelmed. He was genuinely touched by the thought you’d put into the entire evening, slightly bewildered why you even bothered with him in the first place. He knew he could be hard work, he often spent days being a miserable bastard, responding with only sarcasm. Yet you stuck around and got to know him and his quirks. Heck the two of you had gotten that close you knew how he’d been eager to pay a visit to the museum but hadn’t due to the worry of being recognised.
He’d now stopped kidding himself and accepted he felt something more than friendship for you. At first he brushed his feelings off as purely physical as afterall it had been over 70 years since he’d been with a woman and he’s not blind. Everything you did drove him insane. It took all his self control to stop himself from kissing you senseless every time you hung out.
The closer you both got, the deeper he fell for you. He tried his best to find fault with you but he came up short every time.
He loved how easy you were to talk to, how you never pushed him too far or tried to change him into something he’s not. He loved how selfless you were, always thinking of others before yourself. He also loved how thoughtful you were, constantly coming up with plans or ideas on what you both could do so he wasn’t cooped up in his apartment all day.
Bucky had fallen hard.
“Now we do have other options if you’re not feeling it but I thought we could watch the original Dracula!”
Bucky couldn’t hold back his smile as you looked up at him with excitement etched across your face. All he wanted to do was kiss you.
“So what do you think?” You asked, waiting for his response.
“I think you’re incredible.” You beamed up at him and led him into the quiet theatre which was housed within the museum.
“Grab a seat and I’ll be right back”
Bucky nodded in response and picked one of the seats in the middle of the empty theatre, pulling his phone out as he did. He flicked through some of the pictures you had both taken throughout the evening, landing on the one of you both in the space exhibit. He’d bent down to your level for the photo to be taken, your arms not quite long enough to get you both in frame otherwise. You’d flashed a smile for the photo, leaning back into him, pressing your face against his as he did his best to pose for the photo. It had been a long time that he’d had a photo taken that wasn’t linked to a crime. Smiling to himself, he updated his settings and set it to his background.
The lights then dimmed and the screen changed as the movie began. A moment later the door swung open and closed as you entered the theatre, your shoes stomping down the isles as you raced over to Bucky, eager to get there before the film started.
“I remember seeing this when it first came out.” Bucky confessed, a small smile gracing his face as he recalled the memory. “Me and Steve snuck in shortly after it started, we were too broke and young to get in on our own. He was so worried we’d get caught he spent the entire movie watching the door.”
You laughed along with him, struggling to imagine the Captain America you’d seen on the news sneaking into a movie theatre. Reaching into your bag, you pulled out the blanket you had brought with you and covered you both in it, sinking into the warmth it gave as the movie began.
Although it was a horror, you both couldn't help but laugh at some of the scenes, special effects had come a long way since the 30’s.
The evening had gone exactly as planned. You’d wanted to do something special for Bucky for a while, knowing he didn’t venture out much due to the large crowds making him a bit uneasy.
Your friends at work had teased you about it after they heard the hoops you had jumped through to pull the entire thing off; knowing you wouldn’t put in so much effort for someone you regarded as just a friend.
You’d wanted your relationship with Bucky to develop into something more for a while now; you couldn’t deny the attraction you had with him and the bond that had developed. Deep down though, you knew he had a lot going on that he needed to work through and you didn’t want to get in the way of that. You heard his tortured screams on a night as the nightmares took a hold of him. You never brought it up but you saw how it affected him. The dark circles under his eyes were always a dead give away.
Although your body craved something more with him, you were content on leaving things how they were. You genuinely enjoyed spending time with him and wouldn’t risk losing it.
It was the early morning when you both left the museum, having thoroughly enjoyed yourselves. Due to the late hour you agreed on hailing a taxi and sat in comfortable silence on the journey home as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Begrudgingly you watched as Bucky paid the driver as you reached your apartment building and accepted his hand as he helped you out of the cab.
“Thank you for tonight”
“Don’t mention it” You replied as you entered the empty elevator, pressing the button for your floor.
“The last person who did anything like that for me was Steve” He confessed as he rubbed the gold markings on his vibranium hand, not quite knowing what to do with himself.
“You’re making me blush Serg” The nickname slipped out without you realising and you glanced a peak over at the man beside you.
He simply shook his head, grinning to himself as he followed you out of the elevator.
#bucky#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky x y/n#bucky fanfic#ao3#tfatws#fluff#bucky x female reader#bucky x reader#bucky x you
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Toxic Love Chapter 16
Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes
Summary: Finding out your soulmates were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was one thing. But when someone from your past comes back to haunt you, you have to figure out if a relationship with two super soldiers is something you really want to pursue or if you’d rather go back to your comfortable single life.
Series Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, past mentions of rape, self-harm, attempted rape, domestic violence, stalking, death threats, possible Dark!Steve?, Steve will be an asshole a LOT in this series but I don’t know how dark it will get, explicit sexual content, mental health issues, kind of A/B/O dynamics but not really (no they are not actual wolves, more like the hierarchy), mentions of suicide, flashbacks of suicide, nightmares, panic attacks
A/N: There will be no taglist for this story! I apologize in advance!
“Do you have your taser?” Steve and Bucky said collectively as you gathered your purse in your arms and slipped on your shoes.
“Oh my god,” you giggled your response. “Yes, I do.”
It was the day after your surprise birthday party and since you were now going to be heading to St. Lucia tomorrow, you realized you didn’t have much clothing for any kind of tropical place. Darcy had quickly agreed to go shopping with you and that’s why you were leaving the tower.
In the last month you barely left the tower. Not that you felt imprisoned at all. No. It was that you were comfortable. Now that everything was out in the open with Steve and Bucky, you didn’t feel the need to leave the tower much. The last time you left was for your appointment with Dr. Wang and both Steve and Bucky took you there.
They were the ones who normally liked to go with you out of the tower, but since they would be on vacation with you for a whole week, they needed to get some last minute things done for any upcoming missions. So, it would be you and Darcy and you were really excited to spend some time with her.
“Be safe and be good,” Steve said as he gave you a chaste kiss to your lips. You smiled at him, nodding your head.
“I don’t want to get a call that you are in jail,” Bucky joked as he kissed you next.
“It’s only going to be me and Darcy going shopping and out to brunch,” you replied, folding your arms in front of your chest.
“That’s what we’re worried about,” came Steve’s smart ass remark.
~~~
“How many swimsuits do you own?” Darcy asked as the two of you walked down the sidewalk where all the good shopping was. Clint had dropped you two off seeing as neither Steve nor Bucky wanted you two walking that far and you had agreed to stay within a certain radius of where the shopping and dining was. Especially after they found out that John or John’s friends had been sending you threatening letters and messages. But what you didn’t know, was that the bracelet that Steve and Bucky got you for your birthday, also had a tracker in it. They planned on telling you while on vacation, but it brought them a piece of mind and set them at ease while you weren’t with them.
“Umm, I honestly don’t think I even own one,” you remarked.
“Shut the front door. How do you not even own one swimsuit?”
You gave her a shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t really have any time or anywhere to go swimming recently. Before meeting Steve and Bucky, I never really got out to do much at all.”
Darcy linked her arm with yours and smiled at you. “Well, I’m glad I’ve met you because now I get some more girl time. With Nat being away on missions more often than Clint, I get stuck with him a lot.”
“Oh come on. You love him and you know it,” you teased back.
She sighed, “I do. I really do. But he is obsessed with going into the vents at the tower and he always wants me to go. He doesn’t realize that I have boobs and a butt that most certainly won’t fit in those vents.”
The two broke out into laughter and you loved how easy it was being around your friend. You didn’t have many friends growing up. With your parents mental health issues, you didn’t want to bring anyone over to the house and when you were invited over for a sleep over or to hang out somewhere else, you always said no because you felt like you had to keep an eye on your parents.
“Oooh, get this one!” Darcy put the slinkiest red bikini in your hands and your eyes grew wide at how little fabric there was.
“Darcy, there is literally nothing to this bikini,” you whispered to her, heat flooding your cheeks at the thought of wearing something like this at the beach.
“That’s the point! You’re on vacation with two of the hottest men in the world whom, by the way, you have wrapped around your finger. And plus, Tony’s place has its own private beach meaning no one else but you three get access to it,” Darcy spoke as she continued to look at more bathing suits. She did have a good point, but you would still feel utterly exposed in something like this. “And we’ll just get you a few more suits for when you want to go to the public beaches.”
“How many suits do you think I should get?”
“Uhh, at least seven. You’re going to be there for a whole week so you need to have one for each day.”
While you had more than enough money in your bank account, you realized Darcy had a major shopping problem and she was to help you drain it dry. At least she offered to buy you lunch today.
The two of you shopped for a few more hours. The sun was shining high in the sky and it felt so good to get fresh air and spend some girl time with Darcy. She helped you pick out a bunch of new clothes including some light weight dresses as she thought all your clothing was too dark and heavy for some place tropical, swim suit cover ups and her personal favorite, lingerie. You didn’t own anything more than a few matching pairs of bras and underwear and they weren’t even lace. Darcy was an expert at lingerie, stating both Natasha and Clint loved seeing her in it.
While you had spent a bit more than you wanted to, you knew it was for something good. Spending an entire week with your two soulmates on a tropical island for a vacation sounded heavenly and you couldn’t wait for it to be tomorrow already. Never in your life had you gone on vacation, let alone a vacation that is fully paid for.
After lunch, the two of you went to Target to pick up some last minute essentials and a few travel sized items. Darcy explained that Tony would have everything covered at the beach house but you just wanted to be on the safe side.
Once done, Darcy called Clint to pick you two up and you headed back to the tower. Your feet were killing you, even though you wore your comfiest pair of shoes. It was a long day on your feet and you couldn’t wait to get this vacation started.
“Honey I’m home,” you sand as the elevator doors opened to your apartment.
Neither Steve nor Bucky were in the living room or kitchen as you walked into the apartment. There was however a note sitting on the kitchen counter for you.
Y/N,
We hope you had fun shopping with Darcy today and we can’t wait to spend the next week with you in paradise. We had a few errands of our own to run and will be back in time for dinner.
Xoxo
Steve and Bucky
While they could have easily sent you a text telling you they would be out for a little bit, you couldn’t help but smile at how old fashioned they were. Honestly, you loved the notes they had left around the apartment for you to find. Sometimes on your pillow when you woke up, or a sticky note attached to your mirror in the bathroom. It was little sentiments like that, that made your heart swell with pride knowing they were all yours.
With your numerous bags in hand, you headed to your bedroom so you can begin packing for your week in paradise.
Dumping your purse and bags on your large bed, you went into the closet and you pulled out the suitcase that Darcy lent you. Hauling the suitcase onto your bed with a grunt, you opened it and admired just how much space there was in the suitcase. At least you didn’t have to pay extra for the large suitcase since you were taking Tony’s private jet.
Just thing, your phone alerted you to a text message. Rummaging it out of your purse, you turned your phone on. The smile instantly wiped from your face. Your blood running cold as you started at the words.
I’ll be seeing you soon babe. I can’t wait to get my hands on your precious body. –J
Your heart began to race. It was getting harder to breathe.
“Miss Y/N,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice echoed faintly in the room. Your vision started to get blurry and you didn’t know if that was from the tears or if you were having a panic attack. “I am calling Captain Rogers right now.”
Your knees buckled from under you as you reached onto the bed to somewhat break your fall. This couldn’t be happening. How did he get your number? He knew where you used to live, but you had changed your number and made sure to not give it out to anyone. How could he possibly have gotten your phone number? Your breathing was ragged and you were beginning to gasp for air. If he had your phone number, that meant he was closer than ever to you. Closer to finding you. But he was still in prison, he was still locked up. Right?
“Sweetheart,” Steve’s voice came over the speakers. “What’s going on? F.R.I.D.A.Y said your heartbeat is skyrocketing.”
“He-he, John,” you couldn’t get the words out as you were gasping for air.
“Breathe doll,” now it was Bucky’s voice you were hearing. “Just breathe. We are in the elevator right now coming to you but you have to breathe.”
You tried. Fuck did you try to breathe but it was so hard. It felt like someone was squeezing your chest. It hurt. You hurt. Your vision began to go dark as you faintly heard your name being called over and over again.
Slumping down on the ground, you thought this was it. This was how you were going to die. Alone. Terrified. This isn’t how you wanted to die. You wanted to die old and wrinkly with Steve and Bucky by your side, not like this.
Before you could full go unconscious, you felt yourself being picked up in strong arms. Your vision slowly coming back and you realized you were on your bed, sitting down with your back against something hard and firm, yet soft at the same time.
“Y/N? Sweetheart can you hear me?” Steve’s worried voice consumed your mind as you slowly began to blink, seeing him kneeling in front of you on the bed. It was then that you realized you were laying against Bucky, his metal arm around your front and holding your chest tightly to him. “Good girl. There’s our girl. Now I need you to breathe. Feel Bucky breathing behind you. Match his breathing sweet girl.”
You took a few gasping breaths and you could feel Bucky’s heartbeat against your back. Doing as best you could, you could begin to feel your heartbeat starting to regulate. Reaching up, you placed your hand over Bucky’s metal arm, wanting to keep anchored to him.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y, what happened?” Steve’s voice was calm and collected now as he watched you start to finally relax, eyes closed.
“It appears Miss Y/N had a massive panic attack,” the A.I responded.
You could hear Steve take a deep sigh and you opened your eyes, finding his blue orbs staring back at you. “What brought this one sweetheart?”
Instantly your chin began to quiver. “Wh-where’s my pho-phone?” you choked out?
Steve looked around the floor for your phone as you Bucky kept you anchored to him. You felt as if you were to move from your position you would fall apart.
Once Steve found your phone, he handed it to you. You didn’t want to look at it. You couldn’t. Instead, you shook your head and with the saddest voice, you told him to open it.
He looked between you and Bucky and then down to your phone in his hand. You didn’t have a password on it so Steve pressed the button on the side to light your phone up. He didn’t even need to swipe to open. He saw the text. It was right there, staring back at him. Steve’s hand gripped your phone so tight you were honestly shocked he didn’t break the phone in half.
#steve rogers#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes smut#steve rogers smut#dark! steve rogers
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saturdays
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
word count: 3,467
summary: Bucky Barnes has a new routine.
warnings: Some swearing
a/n: This was my March 2020 one shot for my Patreon that they received early access to. Let me know what y’all think!
Bucky Barnes has a new routine.
Sundays are for sleeping in before eventually making his way to Brooklyn, where he picks up three bouquets and an egg, bacon, and cheese breakfast sandwich from Sal’s bodega before going to the cemetery. He sits against his sister’s tombstone—his parents’ to his right—and eats his late breakfast. He sits and talks for a few hours before leaving the flowers on their graves. He always has to have peonies, since those were Becca’s favorites.
Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays are for training. He wakes up at five in the morning to go running with Sam, something he thought would end when Steve went back to be with Peggy Carter. But he wasn’t bitter. No.
But which thing he wasn’t bitter about, he’d never tell.
Along with the run, he spends most of the day sparring and battling simulations in the gym. He has short breaks for meals, but he pretty much is on go until after dinner, when he goes straight to bed.
But Fridays are his favorite. Because he gets to sleep in until nine-thirty in the morning, which is a luxury he’s not used to. Then Sam and him grab a late breakfast together before Bucky goes into the city for his therapy session.
And Bucky likes his therapist! Which he was really, really surprised about! But Marlene is good. Marlene is good because she doesn’t placate him. She calls him out on his shit, and pushes him forward. Because if it had been up to him, he would’ve stopped seeing her after their third meeting, when she had him drawing with fucking crayons that snapped in his hand way too easily. But it’s been over a year since he started seeing her, and even though he still has his bad days, his bad days now would’ve been his best days before.
“So, you think you’re finally ready to go through Rebecca’s things?” Marlene asks, looking at him with a peaceful expression.
“I don’t think so, I am,” he says firmly, feeling a rush of triumph as a smile spreads across her lips. “It’s time, you know?”
She nods in understanding, humming. “Do you have someone going with you?”
Usually, Sam would go with him for things like this, and just in general. They were attached at the hip, especially after the whole Steve leaving thing.
Yeah, they were both hit pretty hard with that.
“Yes, but I…” He sighs, rubbing his hands on his jeans. “I think this is something I need to do alone. At least, the going through her stuff part… But he is going with me to move the stuff to the Tower.”
“Good, good,” she says, her brows slightly furrowed. “And how are you feeling today about Steve leaving?”
Bucky lets out a huff of air, taking a moment to think about it. “To be completely honest with you… I’m kind of over it today. I have other things to do and yeah, I would’ve liked him to be here for it, but that’s not how it is. And him leaving is more about him than it is about me.” He shrugs, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Just because he decided to go back doesn’t mean he wanted to leave me.”
Marlene sets her clipboard to the side, a warm smile on her face. “Well, Bucky, I think we’ll end today on that thought.” She stands up, offering her hand for him to shake as she does everyday. “You’ve done well today. You should be proud of yourself.”
He leaves with a wave and a “See you next week!” as he always does.
He hadn’t known about the storage unit full of his sister’s stuff until about eight months ago, when he asked Maria Hill if there was anything left of hers. He knew that SHIELD had been the ones to take control of her assets when she had no children, since she was the sister of a Howling Commando and the best friend of Captain America.
Becca had died in December of 2013. He’d missed her by less than six months.
It was heartbreaking when he first found out, and still is, if he was being honest. But at least he has her stuff to go through, even though he has no idea what all is going to be in the storage unit. Stevie hadn’t had anything other than what the Smithsonian had snatched up.
The car ride to the storage facility is quiet, Sam at the wheel. Bucky still hasn’t gotten his license, since he doesn’t see a point. Why should he when there’s the subway and Uber and even just good old fashioned walking? “You’ve gotta save the Earth, Sam,” he says when he really feels like irritating the other man.
“You sure you’re ready for this, man?” Sam asks as they stand in front of storage unit 429.
“Yeah,” Buck says, punching in the key code and lifting up the door. “Yeah, I’m ready.” He flips the light switch on the wall, and is shocked by just how much stuff there is. There’s boxes upon boxes upon boxes.
Sam’s hands go to his hips as he looks at it, whistling. “Alright. Let’s get it loaded.”
It takes several hours and three trips to get everything from the storage unit to the Tower, and by the end of it, the both of them just collapse on the couch with a couple of beers and a pizza to share between them.
But Saturday morning comes bright and early, and even though it’s his only day out of the week where he has absolutely nothing to do, Bucky knows he has to start going through her things.
The first four boxes are just clothes. Clothes upon clothes upon clothes. He finds a baby blue dress that she used to wear for church, starched to perfection, and he holds it to his chest for a long time. He cries then.
And he knows that the fact that she’s hoarded so many clothes has a lot to do from growing up during the Depression. He still finds himself falling into old habits of checking the price of food, despite the fact that he never has to worry about money again with his Avengers salary and the backpay from being a POW.
He finds his parents’ wedding rings, and the string of pearls his ma wore for special occasions.
And then he finds an old shoe box, and when he opens it up, he finds letters. Letters upon letters upon letters. They’re in bundles, tied together with fraying ribbon. The paper is yellowed and soft from being folded and unfolded so many times, and he can see the looping black letters that covered the pages.
He takes the ones that look the oldest and unties them, he takes the top one from the stack and sets the rest to the side, before carefully unfolding it.
“Ruthie,” he says quietly as he reads the name at the bottom, not even bothering to read it yet. “Ruthie…” His eyes pop open as he suddenly remembers, remembers receiving letters everyday from a girl in the Bronx. They were never romantic, but it was nice being able to write to someone and not having to hide how bad it was, like he had to with his ma and Becca. She even sent her picture once, so he could know who he was writing to. “Ruthie!”
He spends the rest of the day reading the letters, and passes out sometime around four in the morning with his face on a letter. He takes the letters with him to his family’s graves the next day, reading to them after he replaces the flowers.
It takes him two more days to finish reading all the letters, in between breaks while training and staying up until he absolutely can’t.
He cries a lot while he reads it. He’s not afraid to admit that. But it’s nice to remember that he had a friend to listen to him during one of the worst times of his life.
Bucky’s almost afraid to look her up, to find out if she was still alive, and if he could go see her, to thank her. They wrote back and forth until the day he fell off the train, and he knows that had to be pretty jarring for her.
But then Sam finds out about the letters—it would be hard for him not to, considering that he was walking around with his nose in the letters for days—and it’s all over.
Turns out, she’s alive. She’s alive, and she’s still in Queens.
He goes the next Saturday, taking his bike all the way to the other borough. He looks a little intimidating and extremely different from how he looked back then, but he hopes she recognizes him. He really, really hopes she recognizes him, because otherwise this’ll be real awkward.
He stands in front of the door for a long time, taking his hands in and out of his pockets about eight times before he finally reaches up and knocks.
And then the door opens, and there’s Ruthie.
Well, not Ruthie, though at first glance, you’re the perfect picture of her. You’ve got her hair and her eyes, and the curve of her lips. But the nose is different.
“Can I help you?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him. You’re wiping your hand on a hand towel, peering at him like you recognize him from somewhere but you don’t know where.
“Hi, uh,” he says slowly. His throat is suddenly so dry that he can barely talk. “I’m Bucky. Bucky Barnes. I was pen pals with—”
He’s cut off by Ruthie herself appearing in the doorway. She’s much older—she is ninety-nine, after all—but it’s definitely her. “Did you say Bucky Barnes?” The little old lady’s eyes widened as she saw him, her hand over her heart. “Oh, my stars, it’s really you. I heard about what happened to you, and I…” She shakes her head, clicking her tongue. “Why, it almost gave me a heart attack, you know.”
“Little Ruthie Pratt from Queens,” he says, reaching in his pocket and holding up the letters. “I found these while, uh, going through my sister’s stuff.”
“I still have mine!” Ruthie says, pulling him inside.
It’s nice and homey and everything that Bucky had thought it would be. The front foyer is covered in photos, and there’s quite a few of you. You’re clearly one of Ruthie’s pride and joys, if the sheer amount of them has anything to do about it.
“I used to read these to my grandbaby here,” Ruthie says as she comes back with an old oak jewelry box in hand. “Anytime she stayed the night—her parents worked a lot when she was growing up—she always asked me to read her one of my ‘Bucky letters.’”
“Grandmama,” you say, cheeks flushing as you avoid his eyes.
“It was so cute! She used to recite them word for word along with me!” Ruthie teases as they go to the living room.
It’s quaint, with soft pastel colors dominating the room. He sits on a floral sofa that’s got a circle with dark hair on it, the marking of a furry friend’s favorite spot. He watches as you move to the kitchen, grabbing a pitcher of what looks like tea and a few glasses.
You sit beside her with the ease of knowing that you belong here, pouring yourself a glass. “Grandmama, do you want some tea?”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she opens the box and looks for the oldest one. “You keep that monstrosity away from me,” she says. Seemingly remembering Bucky’s presence, she says, “My daughter’s husband is from Louisiana. Ridiculous man got both her and my grandbaby addicted to that absolute sludge.”
The secret smile you give him as the two of you listen to her tirade about sweet tea makes him feel at ease, and sets the tone for the rest of the afternoon.
Things go on as normal, or as normal as they can.
And Marlene happens to think that all of this is absolutely fantastic for him. She loves that he’s now spending time with Ruthie and you, reconnecting with his past while understanding that he doesn’t have to be the person he was in the letters.
He’s different. He’s not the Bucky that Ruthie knew back then.
It’s an unusually warm day in November four months later when he takes you out for a coffee, just the two of you. And it isn’t a date—really, it isn’t—but he finds himself wanting it to be about halfway through his second coffee.
And that’s why he starts talking about dating to Marlene, who had, quite frankly, been waiting for him to realize his feelings for a while.
“I think I’m in love with her,” he says as he storms into his therapy session, eyes wild and hair a disarray. He’s clearly been worrying real hard about it.
Marlene looks up at him, peering over the silver rim of her glasses. “Oh, really?” She says nonchalantly, as though she doesn’t have you in her notes about him. “And why is that?”
Bucky can’t help the frown on his face as he realizes that she didn’t even ask who he was talking about, because she knew. “I… I don’t know,” he says, slumping into his usual chair. “She makes me happy. Happier than I’ve ever been. And she always makes me laugh, even at the most inappropriate of times.” His gaze softens the more he thinks about you. “And she isn’t scared of me. She doesn’t judge me. She’s read about everything I did in the war, even before HYDRA, and she doesn’t care.” His hands are sweating as he rubs them together. “Actually, it’s not that she doesn’t care—she does care—but she cares because she… she loves me.”
You love him. And sure, he knows that. You’ve said that you love him multiple times, even if you only mean it as a friend way.
But the thought that he has someone who loves him that doesn’t have to is… groundbreaking.
“She loves me, and she wants me to be okay,” he says, looking up at Marlene then.
His therapist has a pleased look in her eyes, even if she won’t let it show with a smile. “I think she’s good for you,” she says simply, her pen held loosely in her hand. “Are you seeing her again soon?”
“I’m seeing her tomorrow night,” he says, his heart growing light. “We’re grabbing a few drinks to celebrate her finally graduating from cosmetology school.”
It’s a big deal for you, completely something. You’re smart, there’s no denying that, but when it comes to schooling… You’d done well in high school, but college proved to be the bane of your existence.
You’d dropped out in the middle of your junior year, and that had been it. You’d moved to Queens to live with Ruthie after, working various low level jobs and trying to find something that fit.
But you’d fit in at cosmetology school. Hell, you excelled. And you enjoyed it! You enjoyed waking up in the morning and going to your classes!
You cried when you got your certificate, and it was now framed in Ruthie’s house until you start your first salon job in two weeks.
“Are you going to tell her about your feelings?” Marlene asks curiously.
Now that makes him pause.
“... Should I?” Bucky asks, feeling a wave of anxiety coming over him. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way? And she sees me as just a friend?”
“If she’s really your friend, she won’t abandon you just because you tell her you have romantic feelings for her.”
“You sure about that?”
Marlene fixes him with a look, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
He runs his tongue over his teeth. “Fine. You’re sure,” he says, slumping a little in his chair. “Doesn’t mean it’s easy.”
She snorts, making a note on her pad. “I never said it was going to be easy, Bucky. Doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”
The next night, he spends an hour and a half trying to decide what to wear. “It shouldn’t be this hard,” he grumbles as he switches shirts for the forty-ninth time. “It’s just drinks.”
Sam, however, is having a great time watching his new best friend freak out over seeing a girl for the first time. “I mean, she already agreed to going out with your ugly mug, man. It’s not gonna matter what you wear.”
And in some way, that helps. A little.
But he does have to threaten Sam with bodily harm if he spies on his date that’s not really a date.
He almost boxes him the ear when he insists for the fourth time that it’s a date.
He shows up at your door with a bouquet of flowers from Sal’s bodega, the buttons of his dark blue henley left open, exposing a smattering of chest hair.
When you open the door, the air is knocked from his lungs. You look absolutely radiant. The light from the sinking sun is giving you a halo-like glow, and he’s sure, not for the first time, that you’re an actual angel.
“Hi,” you say, a flush on your cheeks as you see the flowers. “Are those… Are those for me?”
He nods dumbly, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. “Y-Yes,” he says, pushing them into your arms. “As a congrats. For, you know, graduating. And stuff.”
“Thank you,” you say as you take them, handing them to Ruthie.
She’s standing just inside the door, a giddy look on her face as she holds the flowers, watching you take the motorcycle helmet from his hands. “Have her back by twelve!”
“Grandmama!”
“Fine! Twelve-thirty!”
You’re clearly embarrassed by her antics as he helps you on behind him, guiding your arms around his waist.
“You ready?” He asks, his voice breathy.
A shiver runs down your spine as you nod, wrapping your arms tighter around him as he starts the bike, taking off.
“She doesn’t actually mean that,” you say as he leads you into the tiny, out of the way bar. You’re fixing your hair, trying your best to appear presentable. “I’m grown, you know. I don’t… I don’t have a curfew.”
A slow smile spreads over his lips as he listens to you ramble. “I know,” he says finally, figuring he should put you out of your misery. “Ruthie does like to tease those she loves.”
The bar is quaint, clearly a local place that tourists haven’t invaded. He leads you to a high table, calling out your order to the lone bartender.
“So, I—”
“I like you,” Bucky says, unintentionally cutting you off with a wince. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I really, really like you, and I really, really want this to be a date, but if you don’t feel the same way then I completely understand and we can just forget that I ever said anything and everything can just go back to normal and that might be the best thing because, quite frankly, I haven’t dated since the forties and I have no idea how dating is supposed to work nowadays, but I’d really like to try it with you but only if you—”
His rambling is cut off as you place your hand on his, intertwining your fingers. “Okay,” you say, like it’s the easiest thing ever. “It’s a date.”
He stares at you for an embarrassingly long time, his mouth dry. “Uh… What?” He says quietly. His heart is pounding at an unnaturally fast pace, and he honestly thinks he might be on the verge of a heart attack.
“I like you, too,” you say, smiling at the bartender as he brings you over your drinks. You look so beautiful, your eyes the brightest thing in the dim lighting of the bar. “So this is a date.”
“Okay,” he breathes out, a wave of relief washing over him. “It’s a date.”
He’s a little starstruck as you continue on with what you were going to say before, a pink blush dusting his cheeks. Your hand stays in his for the rest of the night, occasionally giving a little squeeze as though you’re reminding him that you’re still there and you’re not going to disappear.
And it feels good.
And okay, Marlene may have been right.
And yeah, Fridays might be good. But as he sits there with you until the late hours of the night, he’s sure: Saturdays are his new favorite day. Because Saturdays brought him a new beginning when he wasn’t expecting it.
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I'm afraid I have been talked into more of this fluffy nonsense. So I'll just leave this here for you all - and know that there are four more chapters to come.
Part one, two and three on tumblr - or read it on ao3 here
~~~~
Steve is being led through a sea of bodies by a smiling Bucky, a Bucky who keeps looking back at him over his shoulder, his eyes alight with warmth and laughter that Steve can almost taste.
It’s infectious.
He wants more.
He lets Bucky hold him tight, happy to be held and grounded by the touch. All of the noise, the sweat, the coloured lights, have him on edge, enough that he sighs with relief at the sight of the doors ahead of them.
His shoulders relax and his jaw unclenches as they move out into a more open area. Steve doesn’t question it when Bucky drags them further. He let’s Bucky take him wherever he wants to go. Steve is game. Steve is more excited about the next few hours than he has been about anything for the last few years.
That’s probably sadder than Steve has the capacity to think about right now.
So he doesn’t.
He pushes it to the back of his mind, where all his less than helpful thoughts are relegated, and he focuses instead on the softness of Bucky’s hand around his hand. On the way the waves in his hair bounce as he rushes across the casino floor.
He focuses on the way Bucky’s body moves so fluidly, so gracefully. Of the shape of his legs in his jeans, the denim is light and loose and well worn. Steve wonders about why he chose them, for comfort, for style, convenience? He wonders about the softness, the casualness of Bucky’s entire outfit. His shoes are scuffed, but the leather is a dark enough tan that they’ve been polished recently, his t-shirt is threadbare, his jeans are fraying at the hem.
He wonders how much of that is a choice and how much is because that is all Bucky can afford.
It reminds him of his life before the serum.
He shakes those thoughts away.
Steve watches the way Bucky takes care to steer clear of people, the way he apologises to the few that he has to weave past, the way he smiles at them, laughs at his own rushing feet.
Bucky radiates such a calm sort of comfort, even in his enthusiasm, even through the excitable nature of his hurry, that people seem eased by the very fact of his presence.
Steve is sure he could bask in the glow of it for years and never want to move.
He’s so busy contemplating what it might be like to have actual years to spend with Bucky, what sort of heaven that might be (whether his sins would even allow his access - no, no, push those thoughts away) he doesn’t realise they’ve slowed down until they manage to come to a stop.
And Bucky spins around, lets go of Steve’s hand, throws his arms in the air and cries, ‘Ta-da!’
Steve looks behind him, at the section of the casino that Bucky has led them too, a neon sign over the wide doorway that reads ‘Wedding Chapel’ and his heart skips a beat for the second time that night.
Thor’s Asgardian liquor has really done a number on him.
Or maybe it’s just Bucky.
‘Oh no,’ Bucky says, smile fading, arms falling, ‘do you hate it?’
Steve is still so shocked can barely move his head to shake it, but the look on Bucky’s face - the way his expression is drawing in on itself, into something unsure, into something upset - has Steve reaching out to grab both of Bucky’s hands in his own.
‘I don’t,’ he says, looking Bucky firmly in his beautiful steel blue eyes, ‘I absolutely do not.’
Bucky looks back up at Steve and raises an eyebrow. His lips lift at the corners in the beginnings of a grin.
Steve’s fingers itch for his pencils, to capture the perfect charm of it.
‘You absolutely do not hate it?’ Bucky asks, looking over at a small crowd of guests as they stumble out of the chapel, singing and drinking from colourful plastic bottles, dressed in matching t-shirts that say ‘Elvis said we do!’ and ‘Viva las Witness’.
Steve shakes his head and pulls Bucky closer.
‘You think… I mean it’s pretty crazy, right?’ Bucky says, biting his lip.
Steve does shake his head this time. Wants to chase away any further doubt from Bucky’s face. ‘I’ve never seen anything that made more sense.’
And Bucky’s eyes widen, his eyebrows rise. His smile is back in full force, lighting up his face in a way that clutches at something deep in Steve’s chest.
‘I don’t think you’re crazy, Bucky. I think you’re beautiful.’
Bucky ducks his head, but leans closer into Steve, pushes against Steve’s hands and lets his weight rest there.
Then he looks back up at Steve from under his dark lashes, a more lethal move than Steve has seen on any battlefield, ‘Do you think we’re like those particles?’
Steve isn’t sure at all what he means by that, and it must show on his face, because Bucky huffs a soft laugh, pushing further into the resistance of Steve’s hands as they hold him in place.
‘Quantum entanglement,’ Bucky says, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling and then back at Steve, ‘Like once upon a time, when we were all just particles, yours and mine, our particles, we vibrated in unison.’
Steve smiles at the sincerity with which Bucky is telling his story, but doesn’t interrupt.
‘That the matter that makes us who we are, it was all part of something bigger. Something vast. And that’s how we know each other?’
‘From when we were nothing but particles?’
‘We’re still nothing but particles.’
Steve laughs and rolls his eyes, exaggerates a flinch when Bucky lets go to swipe a backhanded slap at his bicep.
‘Sorry, you sound like a friend of mine,’ Steve says.
‘Well you must have smart friends, Steve-Steve Rogers.’
‘I do,’ Steve agrees, fondness creeping into his voice, ‘very smart. Tell me again, why are we like Quantum Entanglement?’
‘I think, way back when everything was just a dense collection of particles, that you and me, we, our particles, they danced together. And now they recognise each other.’
And Steve has to hold his breath at the truth of it.
Something inside of him recognises something inside of Bucky. It longs for him. It’s drawn to him.
He couldn’t think of any more perfect explanation than that they’re just pieces set adrift, coming back to the whole that they once were.
‘We should do it again,’ Steve says quietly, ‘Dance together.’
‘We already did,’ Bucky whispers back.
Steve shakes his head with a chuckle, ‘You are trouble, aren’t you Bucky Barnes.’
‘Good trouble?’ Bucky asks with that charming grin.
‘Very good trouble.’
‘The kind of trouble you want to keep?’
‘Forever,’ Steve says with no hesitation. ‘Forever.’
‘Then let's go,’ Bucky pulls back and shifts his weight, leans into the doors of the chapel to pull Steve with him.
‘Lets go.’ Steve says, and follows Bucky inside.
This is, without a doubt, the greatest night of Steve’s life.
It honestly never occurs to him to think otherwise.
#stucky#steve x bucky#bucky barnes#steve rogers#my writing#accidental husbands#soulmates#bottom bucky#cap steve#shrunkyclunks
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a little birdie told me pt. 11
Summary: Y/N “Birdie” Parker left New York and her family three years ago in the middle of the night. Now, a call for help to her best friend brings her back into the fold of the Three Families and their “business”
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Parker!Reader
Content warning: physical abuse, miscarriage, cursing, mentions of forced marriage, sex, mentions of alcohol and inebriation
Word Count: 2.3k
Notes: Steve is a bit of stubborn idiot in this, but so is Birdie. Next part we will learn more about Steve and his past. Enjoy! 💛
Series masterlist // next part
Y/N stood outside the door of the round table room of the Ivory. Dread coursed through her as she waited to speak to Tony. Desperation was driving her and Y/N knew that if she stopped moving even for a moment, she would break. All she had to do was sign her name on the contract and then she could breakdown. Finally, the door opened and she was surprised to see that there was a group of people waiting for her inside. George sat at the head of the table with Tony and Pepper to his left, Barney on his right and Bucky and Steve filled out the remaining chairs. Everyone turned to look at her when she walked in. Y/N took a deep breath. This lie needed to be sold or she was in trouble, “I need to apologize for my behavior yesterday. The shock of it all hit and I didn’t handle it well. I took yesterday to calm down and think about it. I’ve decided that this union is a good idea. That is, if Steve is still willing.” She turned to Tony, “Dad, as much as it pains me to admit, you were right. He is a good man. I’ve been known as an irresponsible girl whose head is in the clouds. I need to prove that I’ve matured and this could be a step in the right direction.” No one spoke as Pepper scoffed and glared at Tony as she left the room, the door slamming on her way out.
Steve stood up and grabbed Y/N by the arm, she winced as he hit exactly where Brock had grabbed her the day before, “We need to talk.” He pulled her out of the room, “You’ve been avoiding me for three days. We slept together and the next morning you ran out of that hotel room without a word. Yesterday, you announced in front of multiple people that there was no chance in hell that you would ever marry me. What the hell is going on, Birdie?”
Her nails dug into her palm, “It’s like I said. I took the day and thought it over. I’m not leaving again, Steve… I can’t. This marriage has been in the works since I was 17 and it’s a way to show that I’m not little Birdie Stark anymore. I’m not the problem child that you got saddled with as punishment. Clearly, you want it or you wouldn’t have agreed the second time and I think I could be happier with you than anyway else I’ve ever met. So, please, don’t give up on me now… Please.”
Steve looked down at Y/N. He could see the mistiness in her eyes, but he could also see that she was being genuine. He just nodded and they went back into the office. No one spoke as they both signed the contract that had been drawn up. Before the ink had dried, Tony was pulling out a celebratory drink. When Steve turned to hand one to his new fiancee, he realized she had left the room. He put the glasses down and went to look for her. He found her outside talking to Pepper and decided not to intrude.
As soon as everyone’s attention was taken, Y/N had gone after Pepper. She found her outside the building and called to her. “Mom, I’m sorry.”
Pepper held up a hand to stop her, “Don’t you dare apologize. It’s your father that is to blame for this. None of this would have happened if he hadn’t interfered. You wouldn’t have left the first time and you wouldn’t feel the need to prove yourself by marrying someone you don’t want to.”
“Oh, Mom… you can’t just blame Dad for all of that. There were so many other reasons I left.” The image of Brock leaning against the car haunted her. “Yes, he was part of it, but not all of it. I’m not just marrying Steve to prove myself. I know you imagined us finding our soulmates like you did with Dad. But, I don’t believe in the One. I believe that Steve and I can make each other happy and I’ve been stuck in a rut for a really long time. He and Jamie make me happy in a way I haven’t been in years. It’s not a great love story, but it’s a good future. One that lets me keep all of you with me and that’s all I want.”
Pepper reached up to cup Y/N’s face, “I just don’t want you to sacrifice because you think you deserve less.”
“Mom, it’s too late for regrets and all I want is to know I have your support, because I can not plan a wedding.” Pepper laughed at that and Y/N knew she managed to distract her mother from her anger. “Don’t be mad at Dad for too long. For all of his stupid mistakes, he really is doing what he thinks is best.”
The weeks following the contract being signed was exhausting. They had immediately started plans. This wedding was happening quickly, before Becca and Sam’s wedding could even happen. Planning this wedding was a nightmare for Y/N. The planner was the most odious person she’d ever had the misfortune of meeting. The woman’s hand had stayed on Steve’s arm the entire first meeting and cemented her as persona non grata in Y/N’s mind.
Pepper had invited her for a meeting at the Ivory They sat at one of the tables in the solarium. “So color scheme for the wedding?”
“Lime green and orange.”
Y/N heard Pepper sigh next to her, “Jewel tones: burgundy, emerald, navy blue.”
“Lovely,” the wedding planner simpered, “Do you have a date in mind?”
“March is the hope, but we don’t have a specific date in mind.”
“Well we can look at a few locations and see if their availability will help narrow that down. Unless, you have a place in mind?”
“No, this wedding is a blank slate.”
Y/N was zoned out, as her mother planned the wedding. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer and pushed her chair back, “I forgot I told Steve that I would stop into his office. Mom, you know what I like.” She escaped from the table and hurried up to his office. She threw the doors open, “Can we elope?”
Steve’s eyes didn’t even leave the document he was reading. This was not the first time they’d had a similar discussion, “Sweetheart, I’ve told you before. No.”
“Please,” Y/N slinked over and perched herself on the corner of his desk, “The wedding planner is the worst!”
He sighed and put the papers he was reading down. He looked up her, amusement shining in his eyes, “Are you sure you’re not jealous?”
She gasped in outrage, “Jealous! Why would I be jealous?”
“Because she kept touching my arm when we first met her and I thought you were going to rip her hand off.” She hated that he had caught that moment of weakness. They had kissed a few times since signing the contract, but they hadn’t slept together since the party. He gave her a quick kiss, “I kind of liked that you were jealous.”
Y/N pouted, her bottom lip sticking out, “I want a divorce.”
“Need to be a good girl and marry me first.” She whimpered and finally Steve shoved aside his work, giving her his whole attention, “You know for someone who is as bad at following rules as you are, calling you a good girl really seems to do something to you.”
Y/N hopped off his desk trying to put some distance between them, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh really? So when I said that to you, I didn’t see you get all flustered? Just like you are right now?” Steve stood up and moved behind her. He wrapped one arm around her waist and kissed along her bare neck, watching as goosebumps blossomed. He smirked and leaned close to her ear and dropped his voice, so that it was thick like honey, “You don’t want to be a good girl for me, Birdie?”
Y/N whimpered softly and a shiver ran down her spine as his voice rolled over her. She felt his lips brush along her neck and the ability to think was gone.
“I – I,” She dropped her head back, giving Steve unlimited access to her, “Oh, I can’t think when you do that.”
“Let’s make a deal, sweetheart. You give me some answers and I promise I’ll make it worth your while.
“Okay, but I can't guarantee you’ll like the answers I have to give.
He smirked at her defiance, “Were you jealous?”
“Yes.”
“Were you telling me the truth about that dinner I made two nights ago? Was it good?”
She snickered, “No, it was awful. I’ll cook from now on.”
Steve decided to try and see if he could get some answers to questions that plagued him. He switched his tune and spun her around so that she was standing between his thighs, “What happened to make you run from the hotel?”
Y/N played with the buttons on his shirt, avoiding his gaze, “Becca called me Jamie’s mom and it freaked me out. I don’t know if I can be a good parent and I don’t want to replace his mother. I know that she’s dead, but still.”
“First of all, you are an amazing mother to Jamie. Take it from someone who actually had no experience with kids, you are miles ahead of where I was. You love him and care for him and I trust you completely with him.” Y/N kissed Steve, her hand curling into his hair. They separated, but he kept on hand on her back, “One more question. Where were you for the last three years?”
She stiffened and he watched her mask fall into place, “I told you. I went to a lot of places.
“What happened to you? The full story.”
Y/N shrugged him off and stepped away from him, “Rogers, don’t do this.”
“You need to talk to someone.”
“I have, just not the people who continue to push me and piss me off.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “You deserve to be happy, Birdie.
“I am happy…Look, I can’t keep spending my life sad because some shit has happened in my past. I want to enjoy the life I have. Spend my days with my family, and be there for you and Jamie. I don’t want to be sad and broken.
You’re not sad or broken,” Steve tucked her hair behind her ear, “But there's a difference between moving on and avoiding.”
“I’m not avoiding shit. I’ve always told the truth about what’s happened to me.”
Steve stared at her incredulously, “The whole truth?” Y/N stiffened and nodded at him. If her eyes could kill, he would died a hundred times over. “The whole entire truth? You’re not hiding something deep down?”
“I’ve told everyone everything they need to know about where I’ve been and about my ex.
Steve chuckled humorlessly and started walking towards Y/N, “You’re so careful, you know?”
Her stomach was is knots, “Careful?”
“Yes. You never say his name. Only ‘my boyfriend’ or ‘my ex.’ This anticipation is killing me. Why are you protecting him even after all this time?”
“I’m not protecting him. Maybe I just don’t want all the possessive guys around me to get even worse. Maybe... just maybe, it’s not your business.”
Steve groaned at her stubbornness and kissed along her neck, turning her legs to jelly. “Come on, be a good girl. You’re going to be my wife. Just give me a name, Birdie.”
Y/N knew his game and it still took all of her strength to pull away, “Oh no. You’re not using that against me.”
“Sweetheart, I am trying to get you to open up to me. Getting you to share is like Bucky and Sam trying to have an intelligent conversation. You’ve got so many walls up and every time I think I’ve broken one down, two more are put up. I'm just trying to understand you.”
She shoved his chest, “If you want to understand, just be there. Make me believe you’re worth it. Don’t seduce me into getting your way. Help me understand that you won’t leave when it gets tough.
“What, like you did?” Y/N reeled back when Steve said that.
“I’m trying to make up for that.”
“Then tell me what is going on with you.”
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her mind was swirling, “No, Steve! No! You don’t get to guilt me into this. This is not fair to me. Will you do this every time I don’t act how you want? Is my leaving some ploy you’ll use to get what you want? That’s not the actions of someone I want to share with. I want to tell you everything because I trust you to understand and not because I think it’ll make you forgive me faster… I—I need to go.”
“Birdie…”
“I need space from all of this. Get my head on straight. I’ll see you later.” Y/N was out the door, before he could stop her.
Her phone was vibrating like crazy and she finally looked at it. Messages from an unknown number had filled the screen:
I meant what I said when you’re all mine.
You belong to me and to HYDRA.
Maybe the Families will get some anonymous intel on where you’ve been
Can Steve Rogers really give you all I did?
Do you cry his name out like you did mine?
What will Daddy Stark say about his little whore of a daughter?
Are you so stupid that you think marrying Rogers will protect you?
What Y/N didn’t know was that George was tracking her phone and was seeing every message she got. It didn’t take long for him to get the information he needed. Brock Rumlow: the reason Y/N Parker-Stark was broken. HYDRA had gotten closer and done more damage than anyone else knew.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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1300 miles | chapter 3 | b.b.
Summary | Bucky Barnes is adjusting to civilian life, living in Brooklyn, visiting Sam in Delacroix when he can, and trying to figure out what he wants. When he meets Jo Landry, the tattooed lead singer of a New Orleans-based band, he thinks he might have found the answer. Too bad they live 1300 miles apart.
Time Frame | post-TFATWS
Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc
Rating | explicit
Warnings | mentions of combat-related injuries, alcohol use, tattoos/body piercings, coarse language, gay male character, bisexual female character, recreational/medicinal drug use (weed), pet names (doll, pretty girl, Sarge), smut [f/m, mutual masturbation, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), PIV, very very slight dom!Bucky, slight praise kink, very slight somnophilia], angst if you squint but not really, and all the romance tropes/fluff because I'm a sucker for it; more warnings to come; 18+ ONLY, minors DNI
Tag | @mrs--barnes
A/N | Decided to go pure filth and fantasy for chapter three. Enjoy. 😉
series master list | AO3 link | full master list
1300 miles playlist
_____
previous chapter
_____
Since returning in The Blip, Bucky has hated the time between when he lays down and when he falls asleep. He can't seem to turn his mind off. He's still getting used to being alone with his own thoughts, having his own thoughts. Wakanda offered him some peace, and in his apartment, he keeps the TV running constantly to fill the silence and stop himself from getting too lost inside his head. But at Sarah's house, he's afraid to turn the television on for fear of waking anyone else. So, on Sunday night, he lays on the couch listening to the house creak and groan around him, trying not to overanalyze everything that's happened in the past twenty-four hours. He also tries not to think about Jo and everything he likes about her: her laugh, her voice, her eyes, her lips, her hands, her breasts—
He cuts off his train of thought. She's funny, clever, and kind, and in just a few short hours, she seems to have commanded Bucky's undivided attention.
_____
On Monday morning, Bucky debates whether or not to text Jo. Sam advises him to wait a day or two: "Put the ball in her court. You don't want to seem over-eager," he says. Bucky doesn't point out that he hasn't felt this way about a woman in eighty years, so he is definitely beyond eager.
Luckily, Jo texts him first.
The slightly outdated smart phone Sam convinced him to invest in chimes. Jo's name appears on the screen, a small pink heart next to it, along with a photo of her in her glasses holding Toulouse and the message, I think Louie misses you, Sarge.
Another picture comes through. This time it’s of himself, asleep with Louie on his chest. Bucky smiles.
“Sam,” Bucky calls across the boat, “how do you save a photo on this damn thing?” He holds his phone up.
Sam laughs and trots over to him. “Hand it here,” he says.
Bucky hands him the phone, the message from Jo pulled up on the screen.
Sam raises his eyebrows, “Sarge, huh?”
“Don’t say a word,” Bucky warns. “Just show me how to save the photo.”
Sam walks him through the steps, then says, “You can make it your background, you know, instead of this…” he exits out of the text message and looks at the screen, “sad, generic picture.”
“You can do that?” Bucky asks.
“Did you not watch the tutorial videos I sent you, man?” Sam sighs.
Then he holds up the phone, snaps a photo of himself, sets it as Bucky’s home screen, and hands the phone back to Bucky.
Bucky stares at it for a moment. “What the hell?” he mutters.
“Watch the videos so you’ll know how to change it, Sarge.” Sam teases.
_____
Jo spends most of Monday and Tuesday trying not to think about Bucky and failing miserably. The only reprieve she has is band rehearsal which gives her something to focus on that isn't Bucky's hands or mouth or eyes or broad shoulders...
She throws herself into learning new music and tries to avoid texting Bucky every five minutes. They keep a fairly regular conversation going throughout the two days, but she's afraid she's going to scare him off if she seems too enthusiastic.
_____
When Tuesday evening finally arrives, Bucky pulls up outside the bar on a borrowed motorcycle Sam hooked him up with. He's sure that Sam only made it happen so Bucky wouldn't ask to drive his car.
He calls Jo on the intercom outside the residential door to the right of the bar. She buzzes him in, and he takes the stairs two at a time. He's full of nervous energy that he can't seem to burn off. At Jo's door, he runs a hand through his hair before knocking.
When Jo opens the door, Bucky has to stop himself from kissing her immediately. It doesn't seem like the right move for the very beginning of a first date, despite what happened between them two days earlier. Jo's dark hair is loose, falling across her shoulders, and her lips are a deep shade of red. It reminds him of the color women wore in the '40s, but he can't remember anyone looking as beautiful in the shade as Jo does.
She's wearing a black button-down shirt tucked into slim, black jeans, and when Bucky's eyes follow the trail of the gold necklace laying across her collarbone, he's greeted with the sight of the beginning of her sternum tattoo and the lace of her black bra peeking out. He licks his lips and flicks his eyes back to Jo's.
She smirks at him.
"You look gorgeous, doll," Bucky says.
"Not too bad yourself, Sarge," she says, taking in his usual dark jeans and leather jacket. She notices that he's not wearing his gloves.
"These are for you," Bucky says, handing her the small bouquet of flowers he picked up on the way.
Jo smiles and takes them. "You did say flowers." The corner of Bucky's lip pulls up in a smile. "They're lovely," she continues. "Just let me put these in water."
She moves away from the door, and Bucky follows her into the apartment. He watches as she pulls a vase from a kitchen cabinet and fills it with water. He can't stop himself from staring at the curve of her hips and backside in the tight, black denim she's wearing. All thoughts of not kissing her yet are dismissed.
He steps up behind her as she stands at the counter, snipping the ends of the stems and placing the flowers in the vase. Bucky's hands sweep over her hips and around her waist, pulling her flush against his own body — her back against his front. He takes her hair into his hand and moves it, so it falls over one shoulder, granting him access to her pale neck. His lips find the spot behind her ear, and he kisses her gently, before moving down to suck a bruise into the skin where her neck meets her collarbone. Bucky hears the scissors Jo was holding clatter onto the counter.
"If you start that, we'll never get to dinner," she says almost breathlessly.
"I did promise you dinner," Bucky mumbles against her neck.
"You did."
He spins her around and kisses her lightly on the corner of her mouth, careful to not smudge her lipstick.
"Then dinner it is," he says, pulling away and offering her his hand.
Outside, Jo eyes his motorcycle with suspicion. "You want me to ride a motorcycle. In New Orleans," she says.
Bucky shrugs.
"The potholes alone will kill us," Jo argues.
"Do you trust me?" Bucky asks, his eyes shining with excitement and his mouth curved up in a flirtatious smile.
Jo nods. With that look, Bucky could ask her to ride a motorcycle naked through Mardi Gras and she would agree. "Of course," she says.
Bucky's smile broadens, and he places the extra helmet on her head. Jo doesn't care how much this will mess up her hair; she's too focused on how gentle Bucky's hands are as he secures the strap and flips the visor down. He puts his own helmet on and motions for her to climb on behind him. Jo wraps her hands tightly around Bucky's waist as he starts the bike.
He's surprisingly agile as he maneuvers the motorcycle through the streets of New Orleans, avoiding potholes and roadblocks. Jo relaxes her hold on his waist a bit and rests her helmeted cheek against his back. Bucky's heart swells at the thought that she trusts him to keep her safe.
_____
The restaurant Bucky chose from Sam's list of suggestions is housed in a converted warehouse a few blocks from the curve of the Mississippi River. Inside, it's louder than Bucky would have liked, but that also means that Jo sits close to him so she can hear him over the noise, her body angled toward his and her hand resting on his arm as she looks over the menu. Bucky places his own hand on her knee.
He has to remind himself to actually read the menu in front of him instead of just staring at Jo. He's finally made himself focus long enough on the entrees to decide what to order when he hears Jo let out a soft snort beside him. He looks up.
"Sorry," she says before biting her bottom lip to stifle another laugh.
He just stares at her.
"You do this thing," she continues, "when you're concentrating on something, where you squint your eyes, and you rest your tongue on your bottom lip. It's kind of adorable.”
Bucky sets his menu down on the table. "I don't think anyone's ever called me 'adorable' before," he says.
Jo hums and cocks her head to the side, staring at him. "Definitely adorable. But would you prefer charming? Handsome? Incredibly sexy?" Bucky blushes. "Should I go on?" she teases.
Bucky takes her hand in his and kisses her knuckles. "Please don't," he says.
"Not a fan of compliments, Sarge?" she goads him.
"Not used to hearing them," he mumbles.
Jo smiles and squeezes his hand. "We should change that," she says.
The corners of Bucky's eyes crinkle with his smile, and Jo wants to place kisses over each line created. Instead, she closes the short distance between them and opts for placing a kiss on his stubbled cheek. She likes that Bucky lets her do this, lets her show her fondness for him this way. She's always been overly affectionate with people she likes.
For his part, Bucky is enjoying the contact. He used to love to hold a woman's hand, brush the hair from her face, press a kiss to her cheek, and after being denied any form of gentle touch for eighty years, he finds he can't get enough of it. He thought he would shy away from it after so long without human connection, but Jo makes it easy. She seems to make everything easy for him. He thinks about how normal it is to sit in a restaurant with a beautiful woman, and he chokes down the thought that maybe he doesn’t deserve anything easy or normal.
Over dinner, Jo leads the conversation. While Bucky answers her questions and engages with her stories, she's noticed that he prefers to stay quiet, prefers to listen. So, she talks. And while she talks, she observes him, observes the way his eyes follow her hands, the way his tongue drags over his bottom lip, the way his body tenses and turns ever so slightly to an unexpected noise in the room.
"You're very intense," she finally tells him.
"Sorry," he says, running his tongue over his lips again.
"Don't apologize," Jo says. "I like it. I like you."
The corner of his mouth pulls up in a smile, and, for a brief moment, Bucky wants to pour himself out before her, tell her how she makes him feel like himself again after so long. He wants to confess to her, wants to tell her more than he's told Sam or his therapists or anyone in a lifetime – stories of his childhood and family, of Steve and the war, and everything after that. But the words get caught in his throat and the moment passes.
When they step outside of the restaurant after dinner and another drink, there's enough of a late-night breeze blowing to cause Jo to wrap her arms around herself. Bucky shrugs off his leather jacket and drapes it over Jo's shoulders before tucking her body into his side. She lifts her head and smiles up at him as he leads her the few blocks to where the bike is parked.
Before he places the helmet over her head again, Bucky kisses her, his arms wrapped around her waist, pressing her body against his. He nips her bottom lip gently with his teeth and lets his hand wander down her backside, pressing her body impossibly closer. When he finally pulls away, his cheeks are flushed, and his pink lips are slightly swollen.
Jo brings her hand up to cradle his jaw. "Take me home, Sarge," she whispers.
_____
At traffic lights, Jo, warm in Bucky’s leather jacket, finds her hands wandering from Bucky's waist to his thighs, drawing slow circles across the thick muscles there. When they stop at one particularly long light, Jo has to stop herself from letting her hand ghost across his crotch. She’s trying to respect his boundaries, his need to be in control. By the time they reach Jo's apartment, Bucky's half-hard beneath his jeans, and Jo is anxious to get him upstairs.
He parks the motorcycle on the street outside the bar and stashes the helmets while Jo unlocks the building's residential door. When the helmets are locked up, Bucky meets her at the door and guides her inside, his hands on Jo's hips. She turns and presses him against the inside of the door, reaching up to stroke her fingers through his hair and ghost her lips over his, their breath mingling.
"Are you done teasing me?" Bucky growls.
"Never," she laughs and moves out of his reach. She makes it to the bottom of the stairs before Bucky catches up to her. In one swift move, he lifts her up and tosses her over his shoulder, smacking her backside before climbing the stairs. Jo laughs and enjoys the view of his muscled back beneath her hands.
Bucky doesn't put Jo down outside her apartment. Instead, she hands him her keys, and he unlocks the door while holding her with one arm around her thighs. He doesn't set her down in the living room either; he carries her all the way through the apartment to her bedroom and tosses her gently onto her bed. Jo bounces once and laughs before sliding out of his jacket, kicking off her shoes, and pulling Bucky toward her.
"Come here," she says, releasing his dog tags from beneath the collar of his shirt and tugging gently on the chain.
Bucky steps out of his own shoes and climbs onto the bed, hovering over Jo. He pushes a strand of hair out of her face and stares at her. Her lipstick is faded from dinner and their kisses, but her cheeks and chest are flushed red in its place.
“You’re beautiful, Jo,” Bucky says, and he leans down and kisses her gently. They stay like that for a while, kissing slowly, finally breaking away for air and for Bucky to spread kisses across Jo’s jaw and neck.
“Bucky?” Jo whispers. He hums in acknowledgment, his lips pressed against her collarbone. “You're in charge, okay?”
Bucky exhales slowly, his fingers trailing up and down Jo's sides. “Good," he says. "Because first I'm going to make you come apart on my fingers, then my tongue, then my cock."
Jo practically whimpers, and her back arches, her chest pushing toward Bucky’s hands as they trail across her breasts then down to untuck her shirt. His fingers move quickly over the buttons on her blouse, and he parts the fabric to reveal the black lace of her bra. He leans back slightly and takes in the sight of her pierced nipples pressing against the fabric.
"Gorgeous," her murmurs before laving at one of her nipples through the lace. He leans back again and pulls the fabric down to take her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently.
Jo sighs and weaves her fingers into Bucky's hair, her nails scraping against his scalp. Bucky growls against her breast, and his fingers move to the button of her jeans, popping it open and tugging the zipper down. His flesh hand dives beneath the waist of her underwear, and his fingers ghost over her clit. He's moving purely on instinct and maybe, he thinks, muscle memory.
“Bucky,” Jo whines as his hand dips lower, two fingers sinking into her wet heat.
“Fuck,” he mutters. He presses one more kiss to her nipple before claiming her lips again. He strokes her slowly, enjoying the way her walls clamp around his fingers and her eyes fall shut.
“More,” she pleads, and Bucky smirks against her lips. He crooks his fingers and presses his thumb against her clit until she’s gasping.
“Look at me when I make you come,” Bucky whispers, increasing the speed of his thrusts, his thumb pressing harder against Jo’s clit. He feels her tighten around his fingers, and she keens, arching her back, her eyes flying open and locking on Bucky’s. “Good girl,” he praises, and he adds a third finger as she clenches around him and digs her own fingers into the bed sheets, coming undone on his hand.
Bucky slips his fingers out of her and tugs her jeans and underwear down her legs, tossing them on the floor. His hands slide up her legs, over the curve of her hips and across her stomach to reach behind her back and unhook her bra. Jo sits up and shrugs out of her blouse and bra, letting Bucky throw them aside. His hand on her shoulder guides her to lay back down.
Bucky sits back on his heels and takes in the sight of her, from her flushed cheeks to the barbells pierced through her nipples to the trim patch of hair between her legs.
“Fuck, doll, look at you,” Bucky finally says, licking his bottom lip.
Jo breathes out a laugh and pushes at Bucky’s shirt until he’s pulling it over his head. He stands from the bed to pull his jeans off, as well, keeping his boxers on for now, then returns to her, his lips finding hers again. Their teeth clash, and Bucky’s fingers dig into the skin at Jo’s hips, holding her in place, keeping her from pressing up against his crotch.
“Be still,” he whispers, and his teeth nip at her jaw.
Bucky runs his tongue down her neck to the top of her left breast where he stops to suck a bruise into her tender flesh. He soothes the spot with his tongue and a kiss before continuing his path down her stomach to her hip. He uses his tongue to trace the floral pattern inked on the outside of her left hip down the top of her thigh and across to her cunt.
Bucky's heated breath ghosts across her sensitive flesh, and Jo gasps when he dips his tongue into her folds. He laps at her slowly, then sucks her clit between his lips, and Jo’s back arches and her whole body seems to rise off the bed.
“Be. Still,” he hisses again, and his arms wrap around the backs of her thighs to hold her in place.
“There," Jo whines. "Don’t stop. Please."
Bucky shifts his own hips against the bed, seeking any form of relief. He loves the sounds he's pulling from Jo, loves the way she tastes, and the way she ruts against him, despite his iron grip on her thighs. Later, he thinks, I'll lie on my back and let her ride my face until her legs collapse.
Stars explode behind her eyes when Jo comes, and a scream is caught in her throat. Bucky places a final kiss against her cunt, then pulls back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Jo reaches for him. He kicks off his boxers before settling back over her. She can feel him hot and hard against her thigh, and Bucky reaches down to stroke his cock, pulling the foreskin back with a groan.
"Are you sure?" Bucky asks, his eyes meeting hers.
Jo nods and cups Bucky’s face in her hands. “Are you?” she asks.
"Yes. God, yes," Bucky groans. He hasn’t wanted — needed — anything this badly in so long.
Jo wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him. Bucky fists his cock, running it along her folds to gather her slick, before pushing forward, sheathing himself inside her in one thrust. Jo gasps, her head falling back against the pillows, her neck bared for Bucky’s lips and tongue.
Bucky’s vibranium fist is clenched so tightly in the sheets he thinks he might rip them. He relaxes his hand slowly, the plates that work as his muscles whirring quietly beside Jo’s ear.
Bucky groans against Jo’s neck. “Fuck, it’s like you’re made for me.”
He holds himself very still, giving Jo time to adjust to him, until her hips rise to meet his. He sets a slow pace at first, enjoying the way her body flutters around him. Jo digs her short nails into the skin of his shoulders, and Bucky is surprised to find he likes the slight sting. He shifts her legs even wider with his large hands on her thighs and sits back slightly to watch himself sink into her over and over.
Jo's hands drop to his waist, and she caresses the skin there gently before whispering, "Faster, please."
Bucky practically growls at her request before pulling back and snapping his hips against hers at a frantic pace. Jo keens, and Bucky shifts again to press his body over hers, covering her completely. She can feel his dog tags against her heated chest. He watches her bite her bottom lip, her green eyes meeting his. Jo is lost in his eyes, his pupils blown wide; the look he's giving her somewhere between awe and adoration, and Jo is certain the look in her eyes mirrors his because she is so far gone for him.
“I want to see you come again, pretty girl. Give me one more,” Bucky demands, his thumb rubbing harsh circles against her clit.
That simple command is all it takes to send Jo spiraling over the edge for a third time. Bucky follows behind with a low groan, tensing and burying himself deep within her. He drops his weight on top of her briefly, his head resting against her shoulder, before pulling away and rolling onto his back, bringing Jo into his side.
They lay like that for a while, Bucky running his flesh hand up and down Jo's arm while Jo presses lazy kisses against Bucky's chest. Eventually, she excuses herself to take her contacts out and wash her face, tossing Bucky a clean washcloth from the bathroom door, and when she slides back in bed, Bucky is on her again. He makes good on his promise to himself to have her cunt over his face, pulling another orgasm from her before she falls onto the bed beside him, laughing.
He takes her face in his hands and sweeps his fingers across her cheeks gently. He wants to tell her how amazing she is, how happy he is to have met her, how wonderful the past few days have been, but he isn't sure how to put all of that into words. Not yet.
So, he rolls them both onto their sides, her back pressed against his chest and his flesh arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Jo hums and laces her fingers with Bucky's, her eyes closing. She's warm and happy and sleep is calling her name.
_____
Bucky wakes an hour or so after he's fallen asleep, the beginnings of a nightmare fresh in his mind. When his senses clear, and he feels Jo's body pressed against his, he feels calm. He uses the arm wrapped around her to pull her closer to him and presses kisses against her shoulder until she stirs.
Jo mumbles sleepily and pushes back against him, Bucky's cock nestled against her lower back. His fingers find her cunt, and she's still slick with evidence of their earlier encounter. He presses inside her slowly, groaning as he fills her, her walls tightening around him.
"Bucky," Jo sighs, her hand moving back to grip his hip as he ruts into her.
When he comes, he sinks his teeth into her shoulder to stifle his cry, then runs his tongue across the spot to soothe the sting. Jo drags the hand wrapped around her up to her mouth and kisses his palm. He tries to remember what he would have said to a woman in this situation eighty years ago, but the romantic words don't come.
Instead, he whispers, "I really like you, Jo," against her shoulder.
Jo laughs sleepily. "Good. I like you, too, Sarge."
_____
When Bucky wakes the second time, he’s alone. He can hear faint music coming from another room. He checks his phone. 6:00 AM. He slips out of bed and slides his boxers on.
The apartment is still dark with all the curtains closed, apart from light spilling from a crack in the music room door. Bucky finds Jo sitting on the floor, a guitar in her lap. He knocks and pushes the door open further. Jo turns to look up at him and smiles.
“Sorry. Did I wake you?” she asks. Bucky shakes his head no. “I don’t always sleep well,” she says.
Bucky sits on the floor with her, his back propped against the wall. Jo has to stop herself from staring at his muscled chest and thighs.
"Play me something, doll," Bucky says, resting his head against the wall behind him.
She runs through a couple of songs while Bucky replays the events of last night in his mind.
"Shit!" he says suddenly, sitting up straight. Jo stops strumming and looks at him, bewildered. "I didn't wear a condom," he says.
“It’s okay. I have an IUD so I can’t get pregnant," she tells him. "And I’m disease free. I assume you are...you know, with all that super soldier serum running through your veins," she gestures toward him.
Bucky nods but stays silent.
“Do you know what an IUD is?” she asks in response to his silence.
He blushes. “When the government pardoned me, they made me do a complete physical — doctors poking and prodding me," he shudders involuntarily. "So yeah, I'm clean. Afterwards, I don’t think they really knew what to do with me, so they gave me a bunch of pamphlets on everything from mental health to safe sex.”
Jo hums and mutters something about the state of the American public health system.
“We should have had this conversation before we slept together," Bucky finally says. "That’s what the pamphlets recommend.”
Jo tosses her head back and laughs, and Bucky beams with pride at the sight.
“Come on, Sarge," she says, setting her guitar aside, "I’m taking you to breakfast."
_____
next chapter
#bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#sergeant barnes#bucky barnes x oc#bucky x oc#bucky barnes x ofc#bucky x ofc#bucky fic#bucky barnes fic#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes romance#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fluff#bucky x original character#bucky x original female character
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➸ protector
pairing: bucky barnes x reader | mob au
warnings: swearing, mild violence + assault, stalking, mentions of illness + death, fluff.
word count: 7.4k
synopsis: Ironically, the man with blood on his hands and a permanent target on his back was the one you’d never felt safer with.
a/n: mob au’s are top tier so of course i had to write one at some point. i hope that this one is even a smidge as good as every other one out there !! please enjoy and any feedback is appreciated !!
A dark blanket had encompassed the city; swallowed the highest of skyscrapers and narrowest of alleyways. Engulfed shamrock green parks and swept through empty office buildings. Allowed for the busy city to sleep, ironically — this was New York, after all.
Below it, along a quiet street bordering Central Park, walked an unlikely duo. One who’d only ever known violence. The other hoped never to come across it. Yet under the deep ink sky, indulged in each other’s company, no two people seemed to harmonise so well.
“I thought you were walking me home, not taking me down every street in Manhattan.”
“What, have you had enough of me for the night?”
Furrowing your brows, you stopped in your tracks. “Is that what you’re doing? Stringing out the walk back so that the night doesn’t end so soon?”
Bucky looked back at you, a grin pulling at his lips. “Maybe.”
You smirked, poking a finger into his chest. “Tell me, Barnes — do your mob friends know that you’re such a sap?”
Eyes glimmering under the moonlight, Bucky shot a glare your way before slinging an arm back around your shoulder. “I guess I better get you back then — obviously you have better things to be doing...”
“And a drama queen,” You teased, leaning into his embrace. “Some big bad mob boss you are.”
“Yeah, yeah — give it a rest.” He rolled his eyes, only pulling you closer.
It wasn’t often in his line of work that Bucky met someone who could make him momentarily forget about the life he led. In fact, you weren’t in his line of work at all, and that’s why it was so easy with you. Frankly, everyone around him either worked for him or wanted to kill him; it was difficult to find anyone between the two that he could simply be himself with.
While he had power over Hell’s Kitchen, that didn’t mean it was safe for him to roam the streets freely. Ever since he was a child, his father had told him to always assume that he was being watched, whether it was by the cops or members of other mobs looking to cause trouble. Everyone he ever associated with became a target; a weakness. Someone whose death would throw him off his game. That’s why he never made friends, always sticking to the few ones he had who’d been in the crime world as long as he’d been.
Following a messy run-in with another mob on a night which felt like centuries ago, Bucky wandered into a random bar in hopes of clearing his head with as much whiskey as the cash in his pocket would pay for. But the bartender that night, well, she wasn’t having any of it. As it turned out, a conversation lasting until 2am with her did more for him than the strong liquid in his glass had ever done.
That night, he decided that perhaps he could have one none-criminal, none-mob, none-person that has a weapon on them at all times friend. Just one; just a friend.
He was honest with you about his work. At first, he wasn’t even sure you believed him. Because why would you? You couldn’t count the amount of times guys had made up horribly unbelievable lies about their occupations in an attempt to make an impression. ‘Mob boss’ would certainly be a new one, but not any more or less convincing than a supposed world-renowned doctor or a highly successful entrepreneur that had trouble adding up their bill total.
There was certainly something different about Bucky; in the way he carried himself, in how he talked. Plus, his eyes tended to always drift back to the entrance, as if he was anticipating someone’s arrival. While a doctor is a more common career for the average man than a mob boss, if anyone happened to be one, your guess would be the guy that was able to drink on weeknights without worrying about having a hangover for work the next day.
“It’s pretty dark around here, that’s all,” You shrugged, eyeing the star-scattered sky. “And muggers don’t make exceptions for the mob, unfortunately.”
“You don’t think I could take on a mugger? What do you think I do for a living?”
“You know, you’ve never actually told me...” You shifted your gaze to him, watching as his brows pinched together and the smile slowly disappeared from his lips.
Any knowledge you had of mobsters and gangs was from the movies. All the crime, killing, money — it seemed insane to even speculate that it was happening right under your nose. You’d only known Bucky for a few months, not once had you even questioned his work because you’d convinced yourself that it was better not to. That you liked the person he was with you, and whoever he was at work wasn’t any of your concern.
It spiked your curiosity, though. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done anything that’d horrify you if you saw it on the news. Being a bartender, you met new people almost every day — you had a skill in distinguishing good and bad people. Bucky had a good heart; there was nothing about him that signalled as a red flag. He genuinely cared about you — why else would he walk you home from work every chance he got? As well as being the reason for your full tip jar most nights, and simply spending most nights with you when he could be anywhere else in New York City.
A sigh fell from Bucky’s lips as he stopped the two of you under a lit street lamp. He brought a hand to your face, gently tucking your hair behind you ear. “It’s complicated, dollface.“
“Is it?” You asked quietly, uncertainty evident in your expression. “Or are you afraid of telling me in case it’ll scare me away?”
Bingo. A guilty grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Not many people can read me like that.”
You let out a laugh. “Well, not many people have the pleasure of talking to you for hours almost every night.”
“Yeah, you’re a pretty lucky girl.”
Scrunching your nose, you softly whacked at his chest. Honestly, picturing Bucky as a leading mobster in the city was difficult sometimes. Almost always, there was a smile on his lips and a glint in his eyes — nothing like the stereotype at all.
Within moments, he’d pressed his lips into a narrow line, tracing his hands down your arms before clasping your hands in his. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, or about this city. If you asked, I’d explain it all to you, but I don’t think you want that on your conscience. I was born into this life; I do what I do because I have to and it’s nowhere near an easy job. It’s a scary world to get caught up in, babe — one that I’ll protect you from for as long as I can. That is, if you’ll let me.”
Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you let your eyes drop to his chest, covered by the white dress-shirt and dark blazer that he always tended to sport. It occurred to you that his work had to be far more dangerous than you’d imagined. Truthfully, it worried you. What was so bad that he didn’t want on your conscience? Who would want to hurt you if you happened to get caught up in his world?
You agreed with him; it was a scary world, and you were a completely stranger to it. However, something else occurred to you as well. In the time that you’d known Bucky, that he kept you company on your late shifts, that he walked you the distance from the bar to your apartment every time without fail, you never once questioned your safety with him.
There was a time when you’d spend most of your tips from the shift you’d just finished to hire a cab to take you home, afraid of what hid in the shadows on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. Alternatively, you’d wear a large winter coat on warm summer nights so you could carry pepper spray in your pocket and access it easily, not to mention the hand cramp you’d develop from carrying your keys between your knuckles for the entirety of the journey back.
With Bucky, you never needed to worry about being vulnerable, being a target — you’d happily let him protect your from the terrors of the world for the rest of your life.
“Bucky, I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for walking me home every night.”
“You thank me all the time, and I always tell you it’s not a bother—”
“No, I mean really thanked you,” You cut him off, giving his hands a squeeze. “I used to dread leaving the bar every night. The thought of having to walk back to my apartment alone in the middle of the night, every night... it made me feel sick. And out of nowhere, this really gorgeous guy starts showing up at the bar every night and gets me home safely without fail. I— I don’t think you realise how safe I feel with you, Bucky. I feel so safe that I couldn’t ever be scared of you. You’ve looked out for me for this long out of the kindness of your heart — you’re a good person, you care about me. Your work might be scary to me, but you’re not, and I’m not planning on losing a good guy who happens to be caught up in a not-so-good world.”
Panic flared in your chest when you stopped speaking. You and Bucky weren’t exactly... an item, yet. Yes, he cuddled you to his side when he walked you home, he made you laugh like you never thought you could, he called you pet names that had your heart bursting with adoration. But between his hesitation about getting too close to you and your fear of asking him questions that he didn’t want to answer, an invisible boundary had set its place in the middle of you. Perhaps you’d been too forward, he only asked if you’d let him keep you safe and then you went on an unnecessary tangent—
Oh, he was kissing you. Okay, okay.
His careful hands cradling your face felt like the only thing stopping your legs from giving out; Bucky was kissing you. And fuck, it was a good kiss. One you’d been anticipating since the first time he walked you home. God, if your mother knew you were kissing a mob boss right now—
It didn’t matter — not to you. The job didn’t define him, even if everyone else around him told him that it did. You’d make sure he remembered that; you’d protect him in your own way.
Bucky pulled back first, anxious to see your reaction. It was impulsive, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when you were telling him how safe he made you feel, not when you said you didn’t want to lose him. Because he didn’t plan on losing you either.
“Listen, I’ve done things in the past that I’d rather forget...”
You shook your head at him. “Bucky, you don’t have to explain anything—”
“Please, just one thing,” He urged, watching you give him a nod before continuing. “I don’t— I don’t kill for fun, or steal from anyone out of greed, or hurt anyone just because I can. I know a lot of people who do all three without remorse; those guys are the ones I’m trying to take down. I just don’t want you thinking I’m some sort of monster—”
“I don’t think you’re a monster,” You offered him a genuine smile. “I think... you’re doing the best you can with the life you’ve been given.”
In a rare moment of demureness, a light blush coated Bucky’s cheeks; he couldn’t have put it better himself. A kiss was pressed to your forehead before he was tugging at your hands.
“C’mon, let’s get you home.”
* * *
To put it lightly, you were not happy.
It was a Sunday; the only day of the week where you were able to spend the evening binge-watching nearly half a season of a show in the comfort of your own living room. The only day that you could spend alone — no social interaction whatsoever. After a week of dealing with (usually tipsy) strangers, God knows you needed a day to wind down.
However, this Sunday night, you were right where you didn’t want to be — behind the bar, pouring out another glass of rum to a man who really should’ve just started a tab, waiting for the blessed hour of 2am to arrive because a co-worker called in sick at the last minute. To top it all off, Bucky wasn’t there to accompany you. You’d thought about calling him, but your mind told you he was probably busy with ‘mob stuff’, whatever that was. Plus, he spent almost every other night at the bar with you; you could survive one night alone.
It wasn’t such a busy night; Sundays never were at such a late hour. By the time you were closing up the place, there was only one person who’d stayed the whole night. He left without a fuss when you asked him to, which was reassuring. It was going to be your first time walking home alone in months — you didn’t need something to be paranoid about.
Still, you’d came prepared — a can of pepper spray hid in your left pocket, while your keys remained between your knuckles in your right one. Sometimes, you wondered if you were being dramatic. When you walked home with Bucky, there was barely anybody on the streets, never mind anyone that was looking to attack someone. But your paranoia won over that rationale; you could never be too sure.
You didn’t take the long way home like Bucky tended to have you do. Unlike with him, you wanted to get home as fast as possible, not waste time dawdling around the streets.
And still, within minutes of your departure from the bar, you felt someone’s eyes on you.
Surely, the odds weren’t that against you. It was your first time leaving work alone in months — it couldn’t also be the night that something... bad was going to happen because of it.
Don’t think like that, you thought to yourself, huffing quietly. A few more blocks and you’d be at your apartment building. Nobody was watching you, nobody was following you. Paranoia was unnecessarily powerful; it had to be your mind playing tricks on you.
However, after a short internal argument with yourself, you decided that it couldn’t hurt to take a glimpse behind you — just in case. And maybe sometimes trusting your paranoid thoughts was the right thing to do.
Because with one look over your shoulder, your heart rate had doubled in speed — there was someone following you.
The man from the bar, you were sure it was him. Not that you were good with remembering faces, but you’d just seen him not even ten minutes ago. Is that why he waited till the end of your shift? To follow you? You specifically?
He was around fifteen feet behind you, purposely keeping his distance. Fucking hell; what did he want? What could you give him that forced him to sit in the bar for hours waiting to get you on your own?
Bucky was going to kill you, but you’d rather that than, well, someone else having the chance to before him. Within moments, you were dialing his number, ignoring the sense of helplessness you felt in your chest.
The phone rang, and rang. Too many times for your liking.
...
...
“_____?” Thank fuck.
The sound of his voice alone was reassuring; it’d be even more so if he was there with you. He didn’t sound groggy, at least you hadn’t woken him up. “Are you okay?”
“Hey...” You let out a nervous laugh. “Where are you right now?”
“Just at home, dollface...” He answered cautiously, obviously sensing your unease. “Are you alright?”
Approaching the corner of the street you’d been speed-walking down, you took a left turn, eyes darting behind you before you disappeared down the next street. He was still there, still close behind you.
Bucky heard your breath hitch. “Babe, what’s going on? Where are you?”
Fuck. “I’m walking home from work.”
“What? You don’t work on Sundays.”
“Someone called in sick, I got called in last minute,” You gripped the pepper spray in your pocket impossibly tight, fear coursing through your veins. “Bucky, I think someone’s following me.”
There was a moment of silence; you worried he was already mad. But soon enough, you heard the fumbling of boots against a wooden floor. If you weren’t so terrified, you would’ve told him that coming to find you was unnecessary.
“Stay on the phone, okay? I’m gonna come and get you. Keep walking, don’t go down any alleyways,” He instructed, as you heard the click of a front door shutting over the speaker. “Do they know you’ve seen them?”
“I— I think so? Fuck, I don’t know...” You uttered, panic laced in your voice.
The sound of a car starting up provided you with some relief. He’d find you soon; Bucky would keep you safe. “You’re okay, I’m right here. How far away from the bar are you?”
“Uh...” You quickly took in your surroundings — hopefully you weren’t appearing as panicked as you felt. “There’s a nail salon on my right. Next to an Italian restaurant, and there’s a Starbucks on the corner.”
Luckily, Bucky knew Hell’s Kitchen inside out. His boots pressed hard on the gas instantly. “I know where you are. Just keep moving, I’ll be there soon.”
“Thank you.” You whispered, too afraid of provoking the man who was following your tracks. Was he even still there? You couldn’t bring yourself to check.
You imagined Bucky must’ve been breaking speed limits left and right on his journey to you, considering that it’d barely been five minutes since he’d got in his car before you heard a vehicle not far behind you.
Working up the courage to take a look back, you noticed that the man following you had been distracted by Bucky’s car. It was a large, sheer black SUV with blacked out windows; the perfect car for someone in his profession. Perfect enough that your stalker of sorts realised he was in for it, and immediately spun around to walk the other way.
However, he wasn’t getting off that easily.
The car door flung open, making you flinch even from where you were stood fifteen feet away. A figure dressed in a black hoodie and dark jeans jumped out, catching the man by his jacket sleeve before he could make his escape — Bucky. He mustn’t have had time to switch to his regular attire. In different circumstances, it’d be nice seeing him in such casual clothes.
Within seconds, the man was slammed against the brick wall of the bank you’d just passed, Bucky’s hand wrapped around his throat. All you could do was watch, paralysed with shock.
Coughing and spluttering, the man looked up to identify his attacker; his eyes widened. “B— Barnes?”
“You know me?” Bucky asked through gritted teeth, his grip on the man not wavering in the slightest, even when he nodded furiously. “You’re sure as hell not one of my guys — who you do work for?”
Stupidly, the man continued to squirm, desperate to get out of Bucky’s clutch. His throat was only clasped tighter. “Tell me who you fucking work for.”
“P— Pierce! I work for Pierce,” He panted.
Fucking hell. “Did he send you here?
“Yes.”
“Why?” Bucky growled, yet again tightening his grasp when there was a pause in conversation. “I swear I’ll crush your fucking windpipe—”
“The girl,” He answered breathlessly. “Someone told him you’d been seeing a girl— one that wasn’t part of your mob. He— He thought he’d be able to get to you through her, so he sent me to spy on her, work out who she was to you. I was just following her, I wasn’t gonna hurt her—!”
“But Pierce is planning to, isn’t he?” Son of a bitch. This, this was exactly what he was afraid of. Pierce has been looking for a way to take him down for as long as he could remember. But with no outside connections, no obvious weakness to him, it was impossible. You were just what he’d been waiting for — a loose screw in the framework, a crack in the pavement. Someone that would throw Bucky Barnes right off his game if you were dragged into the mess that he was trying to keep you out of.
But he’d made a promise to keep you safe; he wasn’t planning on breaking it.
Jaw clenching, eyes narrowing — Bucky rammed the winded guy into the wall for the last time. “If I see you around here again, you won’t live long enough to report back to your bastard boss.”
God, he could just do it. Squeeze this bonehead’s throat until he was unable to grant his lungs the pleasure of a singular breath of oxygen. Leave his pathetic ass unconscious on the ground for someone else to find — for Pierce to find. He’d be furious, but he’d be scared. Scared of how easy it was for his nemesis to take out one of his men. Scared of what lengths he’d go to ensure your safety.
But you were still there, watching him, unsure of his next move. If he could help it, he wasn’t going to let you be the witness to a murder, especially one on his part. The one pure thing in his life — he wasn’t going to ruin you.
With reluctance, he snatched his hand back, letting the man fall to his knees and instantly gasp for air.
“Get the fuck out of here, or I’ll change my mind on letting your sorry ass live.” He snarled, not waiting for a response before he began jogging in your direction.
Lips parted, brows furrowed, eyes glossy — you looked like you’d seen a ghost (or just heard that a mob boss was planning your murder).
Concern contorted into his features, Bucky quickly approached you, stopping himself from grabbing your face in his hands in fear that his touch wasn’t what you wanted. Had he just ruined everything? Even though you’d claimed that he could never scare you, he wasn’t sure that after that performance that your statement still stood.
Your eyes zeroed in on his chest, cogs working in your mind to try and process what the hell was going on. And Bucky worried that this was it — he’d dragged you into something you never wanted to be a part of and now, there was no getting out for you. You hated him for it, didn’t you? Fucking hell.
But after a few moments, his doubts were proven false when you crashed into his chest, enveloping his waist and shoving your face into the crook of his neck. He’d saved you, just like you knew he would.
Letting out a breath of relief, Bucky drew you closer by encircling your shoulders. Behind him, the pathetic man who he’d just about let live scurried away from the scene, allowing you to peacefully bask in the safe place that was Bucky’s arms.
Still, he feared that being out in the open wasn’t such a good idea. Pressing a lingering kiss you the crown of your head, he pulled back to meet your glazed eyes. “I’m taking you back to my place, is that okay?”
Without a word, you gave him a nod. If whoever was keeping tabs on you knew where you worked, there was a chance that they knew your home address too — the thought sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine.
The car ride back to Bucky’s was quiet. Buildings blurred together as your eyes remained glued to the window, a dismal look on your face. In the driver’s seat, Bucky stole glances at you — he’d never seen you so silent, so down. The crime world was not something he was a stranger to. Being at the top of someone’s hit list was nothing new to him. Nobody could get rid of him; that’s why he was despised by so many, and he didn’t care to mind these days. Shooting his way was a waste of bullets, men sent to find him with knives and crowbars in hand were using their time poorly.
But you weren’t him. No, you were the bubbly bartender that got whisked into his mess simply because you’d been nice enough to ask him about his sullen mood the first night you’d met. This life was never meant for you. Only a sick, emotionless person would’ve sought to harm you, even to spite their worst enemy. Even as ransom, as a way in to seek out Bucky’s weaknesses. He’d told you little about his work, and for good reason. The less you knew, the less important you were to those against him. Knowledge was power in this business.
A clanking noise emerged from in front of the car, managing to pull your eyes from the window. The car had stopped momentarily to allow a grand, silver gate to open, cushioned between the start and end of the black metal fence surrounding the land. Bucky had reached a hand out of his window to punch a code into the keypad next to the gate without you even noticing.
You knew that Bucky was well-off, but fuck.
The house was smaller than you’d imagined. Definitely still large, especially in comparison to your studio apartment. But taking into account the designer suits he styled every night, the stupid amount of money he’d tip you for a single drink, even the confidence he carried at all times — not cockiness, but self-assurance — had you thinking that when he went home at night, that it was to a multimillion dollar mansion. All glass, taking up acres upon acres, all for one man to live in.
However, it wasn’t that at all. It had a maximum of two stories, along with a garage to the left of the main building. It was modern, for sure. Monotonous with its black front door and window frames, the rest blinding white — more subtle than celebrity mansions shown off on social media. It was very Bucky; impressive and eye-catching, but not too flashy.
He opened the car door on your side, allowing you to climb out of the SUV, taking his outreached hand even though you didn’t quite need it. You would’ve uttered a joke about chivalry being dead if it weren’t for your dull mood; perhaps another time.
On a more positive note, you definitely felt safer enclosed in the towering fence surrounding Bucky’s house. At home, you’d be scared to blink in fear that it would declare you vulnerable to an attack.
It wasn’t long before he’d guided you into his home, tapping another code into another keypad as you entered the place, examining it in awe. The scruffy black boots on your feet juxtaposed the gleaming checkered flooring underneath them. A silver chandelier spread light across the foyer-like area, making you squint after the drive through the dark night.
Bucky watched as you took in your surroundings, noticing the way you crossed your arms over your chest, bowed your head — you were curling in on yourself, as if you didn’t belong there. He didn’t like that.
But after a minute or so, you diverted your gaze to him, a weak smile tugging at your lips. “This place... it’s amazing.”
You’d only seen one room, sparse of furniture and lacking personality, but you didn’t need much more convincing of its splendour.
As confident as he walked, Bucky couldn’t say he took compliments well. It was the modesty that he didn’t even realise he had. Flashy watches and perfectly tailored suits littered his closet, sure — but not to reel in ego-feeding comments. He wasn’t the one who tailored his clothes, or carefully sculpted his wristwatches; he merely had the cash to splash on them. Many could only dream to have what he did — they’d take it in a second if it was offered to them. But for what? To maintain by being on the wrong side of the law and trusting that you woudn’t mess up? To be constantly looking over your shoulder, constantly having a target on your back?
He had a good life, he wasn’t denying that. Fear wasn’t the issue; he wasn’t scared. But he wondered if this was all there was to his life. Being someone’s enemy, the object of another’s hatred. No sense of normality to cling onto when things began to get messy. Maybe that’s why he became so attached to you; his sense of peace, a normal life. Which was ironic, since there was nothing normal about you. If you were normal, you’d be forgettable. And that, you were not.
As a thank you, he shot you a grin, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do you need a drink? Or somethin’ to eat?”
You shook your head. “I’m okay, thanks. I’m more tired than anything, honestly.”
“I’ll take you upstairs then.” Usually, he’s take hold of your hand, or wrap an arm around you to escort you somewhere — he had a feeling you needed your own space right now, so instead, he let you follow his steps up the sheeny marble staircase.
It was true, you were tired. Exhausted, even. But you didn’t want to close your eyes, or be left alone, be left vulnerable again.
Bucky led you into a darker room, one that clearly wasn’t used so often. Still, it was large for a bedroom. A queen sized bed was pushed against the far wall, draped in royal blue sheets which complemented the grey cushions sat atop of them. A closet built into the wall took up one side of the room, and a plain, white wooden desk sat under the window on the other side. The door to an en-suite bathroom just peeked out next to the closet. Minimalistic, but lovely nonetheless.
“This is the guest room, usually where my sister stays when she visits every once in a blue moon,” He commented, moving to switch on the lamp standing on top of the desk. “There’ll be some clothes you can change into in the closet.”
A sister; you were even aware he had siblings. That was something he’d never talked about — family. Neither did you, so much, but it was as if Bucky didn’t have one at all. He said that he was born into the mob, so you assumed that his parents (or at least one of them) led the same life that he did.
With a small smile, Bucky acknowledged your thankful nod before leaving you to your own devices. It was obvious he didn’t want to pry, ask you questions that he already knew the answer to.
And you weren’t exactly sure what to say to him either. The situation was completely out of your control; if someone was after you to spite Bucky, how were you supposed to protect yourself? You couldn’t just move in with Bucky to ensure your safety, and it’s not like your apartment building with its rusty locks and lack of security detail put you out of harms way.
Sighing defeatedly, you stripped out of your work attire and kicked off your boots before taking a look in the closet. There weren’t too many nightwear options anyway, but you decided on a faded vintage Metallica shirt, cracks in the logo from the amount of times it’d been washed, along with a worn pair of baggy sweatpants. Not exactly an outfit that you were eager for Bucky to see you in, but given the circumstances, that was the least of your worries as you stepped out of the bedroom. You’d been alone for barely five minutes, but an uneasy pit was still beginning to form in your stomach.
The mob boss came into sight once you’d wandered back downstairs. Freshly poured glass of whiskey in hand, lounged back on a pristine white couch through an archway to the right of the foyer. Probably a lot more expensive that what he chugged down back at your bar, shipped directly from Ireland or Scotland. He didn’t notice as you stood idly in the archway, simply taking in his appearance — comfortable clothing, still sporting an extravagant Rolex (of course), slightly disheveled hair that’s been brushed back by his fingers — before slowly approaching the couch to take a seat next to him.
“You’ve never mentioned your sister.” His eyes flit to yours upon hearing your voice, tentative in case it was a sore subject.
The corner of his lips curled, not used to seeing you in anything other than washed-out jeans and a simple black tee. Shuffling along as you seated yourself, Bucky let out a breath. “She’s lived in Syracuse with my mom since she was barely a teenager, her name’s Rebecca.”
It brought you a sense of relief that Bucky still had family; since he never spoke of them, you worried that he’d lost them because of his lifestyle. “Does she visit much?”
“Nah, only a couple of times a year,” He shook his head, swirling his drink around in his hand. “It’s safer if she keeps her distance from the this part of New York. I used to never let her visit at all, but then— then my dad died a few years back, and after that she insisted on coming down here from time to time — said she couldn’t handle losing me too.”
Surprisingly, it wasn’t the job that killed his father. Lung cancer did it before another eager opposer ever got the chance to. Bucky had never been a smoker; never saw the appeal, especially after witnessing his father go through packs upon packs of cigarettes with the purest tobacco he could find to deal with the stress of the job.
And of course once he’d passed, it was up to his son to take over an organisation he wasn’t at all prepared for. Gone too soon, his father hadn’t been able to teach him everything he needed to know. Everything he needed to survive. Luckily, the Barnes kids were smart — Becca currently working on her nursing degree and Bucky, well, learning how not to die in his occupation.
“I’m sorry, Bucky,” You sympathised, not wanting to keep pressing. There was a reason he’d been so intent on keeping you safe — his sister had already been driven away from the dangers and risks of being close to the mobs of Manhattan. He didn’t want that for you too. Not when this was your home, when he didn’t feel like he could lose you along with his sister because of the life he led. “I— I hope you know that tonight doesn’t change anything.”
His brows knitted together. “What do you mean?”
Fiddling with you fingers in your lap, you met his eyes dubiously. “I’m not scared— well — getting followed home from work by a guy sent by a mob boss to spy on me was pretty scary. But it hasn’t scared me away from you.”
Admittedly, he was happy with your words. The last thing he wanted was to see you running in the opposite direction. He wouldn’t have taken it lightly, even if he understood exactly why you wouldn’t want anything to do with him anymore.
Throwing down the rest of his drink, almost numb to the familiar burn in the back of his throat, Bucky discarded the empty glass on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Pierce has been after me for as long as I can remember; he was after my dad before that. He’s a coward, I can tell you that. Gets his men to do his dirty work. Carries a gun but never uses it. He won’t hurt you, but he doesn’t have a problem ordering every guy he knows to do it instead.”
A timid smile tipped your lips, as your clammy palms pressed against your thighs. “Is this supposed to be comforting?”
He huffed out a chuckle, but apologised upon seeing the worry behind your eyes. He’d been desensitised to violent threats and things alike; he wouldn’t let that happen to you. “I’m sorry, dollface. What I’m trying to say is... those guys are puppets on strings. They’re not smart; they don’t think for themselves. None of them have enough brain cells to get past me, which means they’d never be able to get to you.”
Your expression seemed to soften at that. Good, that meant you trusted him. Because he’d never lie to you. When he said he’d keep you safe, he meant it wholeheartedly. Now that he knew Pierce was meddling in his part of town, that made things a little easier. He’d let the rest of the guys know in the morning. Form a plan of action to force them to stay the fuck away.
In truth, Bucky wasn’t afraid. With his whole chest, he’d say that he had a higher IQ than all of Pierce’s men combined. And he’d say the same for you. Having a gun in your pocket of a knife slipped into your boot didn’t make you clever; it didn’t inherently make you a threat. Not when your target was never in your line of sight, never able to be spied on unknowingly. You’d known you were being followed within minutes, and you had Bucky in the phone not long after the realisation. You trusted your gut, always — that’s what was going to keep you safe. And him, of course.
“I believe you,” You reach a hand across the lavish couch, curling your fingers around the top of his hand. “I really do trust you, Bucky. I hope you don’t doubt that. I meant what I said the other night, about feeling safe with you.”
He tensed slightly in his seat — he really was a big sap, wasn’t he? The head of a mob who had a countless amount of blood on his hands was getting nervous at a woman’s touch. Your touch, however.
“I know,” Bucky eyed you fondly, savouring they warmth of your hand cupping his. “Just... please, next time you’re covering a shift, call me—”
Rolling your eyes playfully, you grinned. “I knew that was coming. It was one night, I didn’t think—”
“But look what happened—!”
“And what would’ve happened if you were walking me home?” You quirked a brow. “That guy still would’ve followed me from the bar, he might’ve even followed us to my apartment and— and tried something once you’d dropped me off.”
You were right. It seemed like they only knew where you worked, not where you lived. Bucky would’ve liked to think if someone was following the two of you that’d he’d notice, but he couldn’t lie — an elephant could’ve followed you down the street one night and he still wouldn’t have realised because he was so caught up in you.
A crease formed between his brows; what if they had found out your address? Without him knowing, which worried him even more—
“But I don’t wanna think about that,” You added, seeing his features falling. Feeling brazen, you shuffled closer, your thigh pressed against his. His breath hitched; you noticed. Heat pooled in your own cheeks. After all, you’d only kissed him once. Being in such close proximity to him still had your heart pounding. “What matters is that I’m here, and I’m with you, and I’m safe.”
Like music to his ears, your words put the shine right back into his eyes. And again, he couldn’t resist pulling you into him — kissing you. Tugging you by the hand still clutching his, basking in the feeling of your other hand moving to rest against his jaw, and moulding his lips with yours. A perfect fit, he thought.
The bitter tang of whiskey was prominent on his tongue; you’d never been one for spirits, but the taste on his lips was impossibly addictive. Something you could get used to. Under the soft pads of your fingers, his jaw was freshly trimmed, dark and rough. Lips honey soft in contrast.
He took you upstairs after that. After you’d both pulled away, lips swollen and eyes hazy, still holding hands like letting go was a crime — the only crime Bucky would shy away from. You were tired, he could tell. If you’d been at home, you would’ve fallen into a slumber long before now; that was if no one had been following you back. While he trusted that you felt safe in his home, it was clear you were still a little shaken. Even more so when he guided you to the guest room, closing the curtains for you as you scrubbed your teeth in the en-suite bathroom.
You felt like a child again; hurrying to spit and rinse so that you could escape the cold, tiled room and fall back into the arms of someone you felt safe with.
By the time you were done and padding back into the bedroom, Bucky had changed into yet another outfit you had yet to see. Now in a white shirt that clung to his torso and biceps, along with grey sweatpants matching yours, he looked... he looked gorgeous. Maybe you were being dramatic; the suit was certainly attractive, but seeing him in his casual wear— it was so domestic. It spread a fuzzy warmth from your fingertips to your toes.
As you pried your eyes from where he was stood in the doorway, shooting you a gentle smile, you began to curl up against the headboard of the large bed. And before a ‘goodnight’ could leave his lips, you hesitantly asked—
“Can you stay with me?”
Brows raised, Bucky swallowed nervously. Of course, he wouldn’t say no. “If you want me to, sure. I can set up on the floor—”
“You’re not sleeping on the floor, Bucky,” You grinned, knees pulled to your chest. Always a gentleman, he was. “I’d... prefer it if you were next to me.”
Sparkling with hope, your eyes pierced into his. If anything, he was sure you’d want to be alone for the night. Gather your thoughts, consider cutting him out of your life for getting you involved in something so dangerous. That was his doubt talking — he knew that you trusted him. And if sleeping next to you would put your mind at ease, he’d never let you sleep alone again until you felt you could.
Moving under the thick quilt, you observed Bucky as he tentatively made his way over to the bed, suppressing a chuckle.
“Are you sure this is okay?” He questioned, just about to pull back the quilt on his side.
A smirk played on your lips as you reached forward, pulling the sheet back for him. “We just made out on your couch; I’m okay with you lying next to me. Are you okay with this?”
He scoffed softly. In that moment, he knew that a bullet to the chest or a knife in his stomach wouldn’t be the death of him — you would.
“Just making sure.” He sighed, eventually climbing into the bed beside you, unable to wipe the smile off his face.
The pillow underneath your head felt like a cloud as you laid down on your side, Bucky mirroring your position soon after. He’d left the lamp on; the dim light casting a shadow over his features. It hit his eyes perfectly, however. Ocean blue, inviting you to drown in them — you’d do so in a heartbeat.
“Thank you.” You murmured, eyelids already heavy. If you weren’t drifting into unconsciousness, you would’ve pressed your lips to his yet again, craving the taste of that priceless whiskey. As a thank you, another one — you couldn’t thank him enough.
All those nights he could’ve spent in his million dollar home, drinking the purest of spirits on his plush couch, perhaps with company that was a little more used to his lifestyle. All those nights he could’ve spent in the safety and comfort of his own abode, he spent in a cold, austere bar drinking alcohol less expensive than his shoelaces, with you.
And he’d do it every night for the rest of time to watch over you, make you laugh, smile — ensure that such a vibrant girl was never exposed to what truly lurked in the shadows of Manhattan. He’d do it because without you, he’d be lost in those shadows. Trapped in a life of crime and violence and misery. Nowhere to turn to simply breathe.
Finding your hand under the silk sheets, Bucky pulled it close, brushing his lips against it ever so softly. And he replied with a smile. “You too, dollface.”
Watching as you fell asleep, gentle breaths hitting the pillow beneath your cheek, lips still a little swollen, hand grasping back at his ever so slightly — he sighed. One of relief, of content.
Your Bucky, always watching over you. But you — you were protecting him too. Protecting the worn-down soul of a complicated man from being truly lost in such a brutal world.
For that, he’d be more thankful than you could ever imagine.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky#bucky barnes x you#bucky x you#bucky barnes reader insert#mob!bucky#mob au
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On My Mind
Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)
Word Count: 1,490
Warnings: fluffy first date vibes, mentions about pregnancy and infertility, overall not angsty tho
A/N: sorry for the long wait yall! ive been super slumped with class and other organizations im apart of and work and yea :) thank yall for understanding<3
MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST
A metal finger pokes your side as you re rack the weights you’ve used during your workout in the gym. You look at Bucky through the window in front of you as he’s seemingly finished his own workout as well. The two of you don’t work out together, his routine that’s fit, for, well, a super soldier, is much too much for you, but you still arrive together and leave together.
“I have a surprise for you.” Bucky says, as he begins to walk backwards, encouraging you to walk with him.
“What’s that?” You ask as you approach the doors of the gym, exiting out into the hallway.
“I’m taking you out tonight.”
You giggle. Because the thought sounds hilarious. Until you realize he’s not laughing with you. “What are you talking about, Bucky?” You ask, smile dropping into a serious frown.
“It’s been over a year and a half since you’ve been here; over a year and a half since you’ve died. I think it’s time.” He tells you.
“Bucky, I don���t know. Don’t people follow you around? Take pictures? I can’t have my picture taken.” You tell him. The only person you really let take your picture is Bucky. You haven’t seen all of them, but you know he’s got hundreds of random pictures of your face in his camera roll. Some of them include him, some of them don’t, some are of you asleep, some are of you cooking, some are of you naked. Besides the point.
“Trust me. I’ve got the perfect spot. Dress cute for me tonight, yeah? You always do.”
…
It takes what feels like hours for you to decide what to wear. What does cute mean? Fancy? Casual? Business casual? Should you wear colors? Bucky wouldn’t take you somewhere where you can’t wear colors.
You decide on a dark green midi dress, small yellow and burgundy flowers covering the dress in a pattern. The thin straps sit on your shoulders and your tattooed leg slips through the slit on the side as you slip on a pair of brown platforms. Atop you slip on what’s probably the only black piece of clothing you own besides what’s been given to you here at the tower; a black denim jacket, one that Bucky got for you because you gave him that bright orange top that one time and it was time you have something of his style.
You almost regret shaving your head realizing as you look in the mirror just how much attention is now brought to yourself. As if dating Bucky Barnes wasn’t enough.
Sooner than you’d hoped, there’s a knock on your door and Bucky’s arrived, a casual dark button down shirt tucked into black slacks, leather shoes on his feet and he looks delicious. A mix of the young man from the 40’s and the modern soldier of today. The brooding, intimidating man wearing slightly high waisted slacks that are only missing a pair of suspenders. Goth and gentlemanly all the same.
You don’t miss the large bouquet of flowers in his hands, flowers of every shape and color and you gasp in surprise. “Did you think I wouldn’t bring my date flowers on our first date? You look beautiful. As always. Are you just about ready?” He tells you confidently, suaveness dripping from his voice as he looks at you lovingly. He can tell you’re nervous by the way your clammy hands take the flowers and you frantically look for a vase to put them in. But he’s not nervous. He actually doesn’t think he’s been this excited to take a girl out, ever. Maybe it’s been a while, but he thinks it has more to do with the fact that it’s you he’s going out with.
The drive to the small restaurant isn’t long, and on the way Bucky explains to you the small Italian place he grew to love as a teenager, the restaurant now run by the grandchildren of the original owners.
Upon entering the restaurant, smells of garlic and basil flood your nostrils and look around to see the place… empty. There’s only one other small family in the corner of the room, a younger couple with a child that couldn’t be older than five or six.
A teenage waitress leads the two of you to a table far enough away from the other family for some privacy and you have to ask Bucky if this place is actually as good as he says it is.
He laughs, “The place is just more popular for takeout, is all. Trust me, baby.” You can’t argue after being called the sweet pet name as you take your eyes off your boyfriend to skim down the menu.
Soon enough orders are placed and the two of you enjoy a comfortable silence, munching on the bread that was brought to the table. A loud, joyful giggle draws your eyes to the other family in the room, parents looking lovingly at their child as they seemingly recount some story of their day.
Multiple thoughts run through your head watching the little girl, her smooth skin, thick hair put up in tiny pigtails, her body covered in a pair of pink overalls and a glittery top underneath. Something your kid would be dressed in. Your kid.
Bucky’s words interrupt your thoughts but not your stare, “Do you ever think about it?”
“Think about what?” You reply, watching the girl rip at the bread in her small hands, sticking pieces of the soft middle bit in her mouth as she continues talking.
“Having a kid.”
You pause before answering truthfully, “Never. Until right now.”
“Never? At all?”
You finally pull away your stare before you’re caught, “Well, no one really thinks about kids when they're a teenager. And even then, I was poor growing up, so all I saw when thinking about a baby is how much I couldn’t afford one. And then when I joined the Marines, I figured… I’d die. Die with some honor for some stupid cause and that’d be it. And then in Hydra, well, I really thought I’d die there. And then when I got out… I suppose I never thought that I actually do have the chance now. I mean I have the safety of the tower, I have a full fridge at all times, access to medical care…” You trail off.
“I shouldn’t get ahead of myself; I’m not even sure I can have kids what with all that Hydra did to me - all the shit they pumped into me.” You pick at a piece of bread in the basket in front of you, not noticing the color drain from Bucky’s face.
You brought up a fear in him he never thought about. Can he have kids? Did the serum affect him in that aspect? If he did get someone pregnant, would the baby survive? With some kind of serum in them from him? He remembers hearing about so many other soldiers being given the serum and dying, not being able to handle the chemical changes. If grown men and healthy soldiers died from it, how could a baby survive?
“Do you?” You break his thoughts.
“Do I, what?” He asks, trying to mask the sudden fear from showing on his face.
“Think about it?”
“Constantly. I have since I was a kid.” He tells you, and your mouth drops in amused shock.
“A kid?!” He’s glad you seem to be past the thought of not being able to have kids because your carefree smile and amusement at the thought of ten year old Bucky taking care of his younger sister and wanting a kid of his own is enough to calm him down.
“I took care of my sister all the time. I think I liked her more than she liked me, I was always trying to drag her to hang out with me, teach her stuff, and she always just wanted to play with her dolls.” He laughs, thinking of all the time his little sister would grow annoyed at all the time he wanted to spend with her.
The smile on your face is bright as you watch him recount his childhood memory, but he sees the slight sadness in your eyes; he knows you were an only child. The food arrives and interrupts him before he can say anything about it, Thank you’s echoing from the couple as two plates of lasagna are placed in front of them.
A few minutes of silence goes by as the two of you begin eating away at the full plate of pasta and meat sauce. “For the record, I think you’d make the most fantastic mother.” Bucky tells you, and you pause the fork in the air and look up at him, not expecting him to tell you that.
“Thanks.” You tell him simply, appreciating the comment more than you think he’ll ever know.
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First alone Weekend away w Steve after dropping miles off at uncle Buckys or aunty nat 🥺
too long // steve rogers
↳ pairing: steve rogers x reader
hold on, nonnie, you might be onto something (nsfw ahead):
tony overhears steve talking about how much he needs a vacation because work has really been stressing him out lately
he’s been on ten missions in the past month and a half and frankly, the two of you are exhausted because having to work and take care of a very energetic child alone has really taken its toll on you
so tony offers up his beach house in florida so that the two of you can spend a long weekend alone with no interruptions
saying goodbye to your son miles was hard - he’s never spent more than a few days away from his parents in a situation where they weren’t just a couple miles away from him
“mama, daddy,” miles sniffles into steve’s shirt, both of his little arms around your necks while you carry him, “do you have to go?”
“sweetheart, it’ll just be for a couple of days,” steve soothes him, smoothing a hand over his unruly hair, tied up with a rainbow ponytail holder that morgan gave him because he refuses to let you cut it and it’s getting so long because it grows so fast
(also, he likes the way it looks when it’s long: “mama, can you braid my hair like auntie shuri or auntie nat?”)
“but- but,” he stutters and you anticipate another wave of sobs so you shoot steve an uncertain look, your heart sinking because you want to go but you hate seeing your son like this
“baby,” you say softly, coaxing him to look up and you coo at the tears in his eyes and the ones that spill onto his chubby cheeks, “we’ll be back before you know it. and you know what?”
“what?” miles mumbles, the cutest pout on his face as his pretty blue eyes stare into yours
“you’ve gotta be a big, brave boy for mommy and daddy,” you nod encouragingly, giving him a gentle smile as steve rubs a hand up and down his back. “can you do that for us, miles?”
there’s a beat before he nods, still pouting, and you can’t help but press your lips to the crown of his head, fighting back tears of your own because you love him so much and hate to leave him
“and just think about how much fun you’re gonna have with uncle bucky and uncle sam, buddy,” steve adds, bouncing miles on his hip
miles visibly perks up and his gap-toothed smile eases your concerns a little as he claps his hands excitedly
“uncle ‘ucky said we can go to the beach and build sandcastles and then uncle sammy said we can go see auntie nat and then...”
steve shoots you a wink, listening attentively to his son with wide-eyed excitement and plenty of practiced “no way!”’s and “that’s crazy!”’s as he walks outside to the car to buckle him in
once you’ve dropped your son off (he didn’t even look back as he ran into sam’s arms after giving bucky a hug too), you head to the airport where tony’s private jet is waiting
when you’re in the air, you’re obviously freaking out a little and steve grabs onto your hand and kisses the back of it with a smile
“he’s gonna be just fine, doll. everything’s gonna be fine.”
and it is: tony’s beach house is beautiful and you love how carefree you feel, basking indulgently in the unlimited affection you get from your husband as well as the warm rays of the sun
your first day and night are full of shared kisses, the both of you taking the time to rediscover each other’s bodies again because you haven’t had the time to
“oh my god, baby, you taste so fuckin’ good,” steve moans as he buries his face back in your core, tongue teasing the folds as his thumb rubs at your clit mercilessly
you fist his hair and tug, knowing that he likes the sharp mix of the pain and the pleasure associated with it
when his teeth nip the inside of your thigh, you squeal loudly, grinning as he reprimands you with a smile on his face: “naughty little girl.”
but it’s the middle of the night on your second day and steve has you on top of him in your softly lit bedroom, slapping your ass in encouragement as you bounce up and down on his hard length
“that’s it, doll baby, take this cock,” he grumbles, hands flying to your hips to increase your pace as he matches your thrusts
your hands are braced on his chest and you’re so close to the edge, working yourself over and you can feel the coil in your stomach tighten when you hear the facetime ringtone sound from your phone
you pause momentarily until steve spanks you again: “didn’t tell you to stop, pretty girl.”
“but the phone-”
“ignore it,” he commands, driving up into you extra hard and you shudder, his hips slamming into your clit
and so you do, until it cuts off and rings again which makes steve throw his head back in frustration because he’s also so close
“stevie, what if it’s an emergency-”
“answer it,” he groans, hands coming up to run over his face in a way that reminds you so much of miles
“thank you,” you bend down to kiss his lips and then slide off of him carefully, grabbing his shirt from the floor and pulling it over your head haphazardly before grabbing your phone
the caller id says ‘buckaroo’ and you frown because why would bucky be calling you this late if something wasn’t wrong?
immediately, you pick up and your frown deepens at the flustered look on bucky’s face
“buck, what’s wrong?” you sit back on your bed inbetween steve’s open legs (he’s pulled his underwear back on begrudgingly but his scowl melts when he sees his best friend on the screen)
there’s a loud wailing in the back couples with the deep timbre of sam’s voice that makes your heart lurch because you know instantaneously that it’s miles
“bucky, what happened to him?” you sound frantic and steve rubs his hands up and down your arms although you can feel his heart pounding against your back
“he’s,” bucky huffs, running a hand through his hair as he walks closer to the noise, “he hasn’t stopped cryin’ for the past two hours. sam n’ i have been tryin’ to get him to calm down but he- he really wanted to see you guys. told us he wanted to go home and...”
“s’okay, buck,” steve tells him, “you tried your best. you can give him the phone.”
there’s some unclear talking and then some shifting of the camera before your baby’s face pops up on the screen, eyelashes glistening with tears and his cheeks wet and he’s gasping breathlessly from all the screaming
“baby boy,” you coo, blinking back the pricking of your eyes because you’re heartbroken at the sight of your tearful son
“mama!” he wails, hand grabbing fruitlessly at the screen. you angle the camera so that he can see his daddy too, steve’s chin resting on your shoulder
“daddy!” he smiles sadly, smacking bucky’s phone and then frowning when he realizes that he can’t access the two of you
“what’s goin’ on, bubba?” steve says, getting a little choked up too because your son doesn’t usually cry like this. “why’re you cryin’, baby?”
“i-i,” he sniffs loudly, looking up at bucky briefly before staring at you guys again, “i miss you daddy, mama too. w-wh-when are you coming back?”
“oh, honey,” your hand flies to your chest, “we miss you too. but i thought you were gonna be a big, brave boy for mommy and daddy?”
“i tried, mama!” he exclaims, wiping at his face in frustration. “but i can’t!”
“yes you can, sweetie,” steve soothes him. “s’not like you to give up so easy. you were doing so good and we’ve only got a couple of days left. we’ll be back the day after tomorrow, how’s that sound?”
“too long,” your son’s bottom lip quivers and you know he’s about to cry again so you’re quick to jump in
“how about this, baby,” you suggest, “we’ll come back first thing tomorrow and be right there with you when you wake up-”
“yes, mama!”
“-if,” you warn him and the bright smile on his face dims, “if you be a big boy for us just for tonight and let uncle sam and bucky read you a bedtime story so you can head to bed, hmm?”
miles stops to think about it, glancing at his uncles who flank his sides, and then back at you, nodding reluctantly
“thank you, buddy,” steve smiles at him and miles returns it with a smile of his own albeit watery. “now, what do you say to uncle bucky and uncle sam?”
the camera drops abruptly and you’re both staring at the ceiling while you hear a very polite: “i’m sorry, uncle sammy! m’sorry, uncle ‘ucky!”
“you’re such a smart boy, baby,” you praise him when he picks the phone back up. “we’ll be back in the morning, m’kay?”
“‘kay, mama.”
“we love you, okay, sweetheart?” steve grins at him
“love you too daddy. love you mama.”
“love you so much, honey - we’ll see you tomorrow,” you both blow kisses at him until he giggles and he waves eagerly, trying to blow his own kisses back at you until he hangs up
and so you change your flight back to early in the morning, heading back to new york early so that you can see your son
once you knock on bucky’s door, the door opens and you two walk quietly into the apartment, giving both bucky and sam hugs before sneaking into the room where miles sleeps
you grin at the sight of a head of hair splayed out on the pillow, soft snores coming from where his small body rises and falls underneath the covers off this too-big guest room bed
the two of you sit on his side of the bed and steve runs his hand through his hair to wake him up, gently placing a hand on his shoulder
“miles, sweetie,” you say and your son stirs, rubbing at his eyes sleepily with tiny fists
“mama?” his voice is groggy and his eyes glazed over but a drowsy smile stretches across his face still. “daddy?”
“hey, honey,” steve smiles as miles throws himself into his body. steve cups his head softly and rocks him back and forth
“missed you,” miles turns to you and presses a lazy kiss to your cheek
“we missed you too, bubba,” steve smiles
“sorry for-” he yawns, obviously still tired, “sorry for makin’ you come back.”
“hey, don’t apologize,” you reassure him. “we were missing you too - so much.”
“good,” miles’ eyes close and he pulls both of you back down onto the bed with him. “can you stay?”
“course we can.”
steve is the first to kick his shoes off and crawl underneath the covers with miles, pulling him onto his chest and your son automatically curls into him, face buried in his father’s neck
you soon follow suit, taking your shoes off and cuddling next to him, your son squished happily in between you guys
he’s quickly back asleep, your finger grasped in his fist while he sucks on his thumb
you don’t even bother to pull it out of his mouth, letting him have this one because you know it’s been a hard night for him
“babe,” steve whispers and you blink your eyes open, on the verge of sleep yourself
“yeah?”
“d’you think we could sneak out of here for a quickie in the bathroom? you know, finish what we didn’t get to last night-”
“steve, you are so annoying. shut up and go to sleep, dummy.”
excuse me i love it
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers headcanon#steve rogers headcanons#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers imagines#steve rogers blurb#steve rogers blurbs#requests
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Delicate Type of Beauty- Chapter 3: Plumbing Problems
Summary: You have a problem with your plumbing, but luckily Bucky just happens to also be awake at 2 AM.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes × f!oc-insert
Word Count: 1,940
Warnings: A few curses, a couple negative thoughts
A/N: The verb endings are probably all over the place, but oh well. I hope y'all enjoy!
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist
××××××
The footage didn’t make any sense. It didn’t necessarily show any indication to where he went, and you couldn’t understand why the footage would be erased in the first place. That was the only thing that made the whole situation stand out.
It just showed Colton waiting in his car until another vehicle approached him. Colt then got out of his car with a backpack on, took whatever the unknown driver handed him, and watched as the driver left. He looked over the item that was in hands and placed it in his pocket before walking out of frame without his car. Even Rhett said that he thought that it was strange.
You, however, weren’t going to let that stop you. With every resource you had, you were going to find out everything that happened in that video and where he went. You needed to know who the driver was and what they gave your brother.
You were sat on the floor in front of your coffee table looking through everything you had already acquired while you were waiting on one of your sources to grant you access to more footage from the security cameras at the docks. You were hoping that maybe you had overlooked something, but it wasn’t looking like it.
With a sigh you grabbed your phone to check the time, groaning when you saw that it was just after two in the morning. It was late, but you weren’t ready to turn in just yet. Standing up, you walked into your kitchen to wash your face off at the sink.
When you turn the sink on though, only a little water was coming out the faucet. Your eyebrows furrowed together as you squatted down to open the cabinets under the sink, cursing when you saw that the pipe had busted and that water started running everywhere.
You immediately ran to go get some towels, another curse slipping out of your mouth when you realized that you only had one. Why was today the day you forgot to pick up your laundry from down stairs?
You rushed back to the kitchen, placing the towel on the floor to try to mop up what you could of the water. It didn’t take long for the towel to get soaked and there was still a lot of water. What the hell were you going to do now?
Bucky just wanted to get at least a few hours of sleep. He would be happy with even as little as two or three hours. Was that too much to ask?
The nightmares- or rather memories- had been bad for the last week. The most sleep he’s gotten lately has been maybe about an hour at a time. A man, especially at his age, needed more rest than that. He was tired, damn it.
Knocking at his door shook him from his thoughts about rest, making him glance over at the clock. Who would be at his door at this time of night? He really didn’t want to deal with some jackass tonight.
He quietly stood up from the floor, slipping on a shirt over his head as he made his way towards the door. Looking through the peephole, he saw you standing outside glancing frantically around you.
Opening the door, he automatically hid his left side behind the door frame. “Kris? Everything okay?” He questioned you, his eyebrow furrowed as he looked you over.
“Um, yeah, did I wake you? I’m so sorry if I did,” you apologize as you wring your hands together in front of you. Some of the guilt is lifted from you as he shook his head, his eyes showing that he was concerned. Now you felt bad for worrying him with something as stupid as this.
You glanced down the hallway, hoping you didn’t wake up any of the other residents. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but you're the only person I know here and I can’t go to the basement now because you know how the landlord is. Is there by any chance that I could borrow some towels?” You rambled to him, cringing slightly about how idiotic you sounded. Why does talking to him make you act like this?
Bucky’s look of concern turned to one of confusion as he looked at you. “I… Uh, sure, hold on,” he tells you before walking away from the door to retrieve them. Seeing that he left the door wide open, you took that as an invitation to step inside.
His apartment looked similar to yours, even though he had less furniture than you. Your eyes caught onto the blankets and pillows on the floor, making you lick your lips nervously. Every time you came back from an operation, you often found yourself sleeping on the floor as well. Sleeping on a bed was significantly different from going to bed in a sleeping bag on the hard ground. Recently, you've been sleeping on the couch to slowly break yourself out of that routine.
Your attention goes back to Bucky when you hear him clear his throat, looking up to see him holding a few towels. “Is this enough?” He asked as you took the towels out of his hands.
He noticed how your eyes immediately went to his bare metal arm before looking back at him with a nod. If he didn’t see that, he would have completely forgot that it was made out of vibranium and not flesh and bone.
“I hope so. I haven’t exactly dealt with a flooded kitchen before,” you quip as you turn to head out his apartment. Bucky raised his eyebrows as he followed behind you.
“What happened to your kitchen?” Bucky questioned curiously as he held the door open for you. He really did find you in the strangest situations.
You stopped once you stepped back into the hallway, turning back to face him. “The pipe beneath my sink busted. I’m gonna spend the rest of my night figuring out how to fix it,” you sighed, internally groaning at the thought.
You watched as Bucky nodded somewhat to himself, as if he was having a silent conversation with himself in his head. You would have never guessed the next words that would leave his mouth.
“Do you need any help?”
★
When you said that your kitchen was flooded, you really did mean it. Bucky was hoping that maybe you were overexaggerating, but there was a lot of water on the floor. If you two didn’t clean it up fast enough, you might get a complaint from the downstairs neighbor.
“You know, I could talk to you in maybe five different languages, but I apparently couldn’t fix a dumb pipe even if I wanted to,” you joke as you mop up most of the water.
Bucky chuckled slightly as he looked over the sink. “Ei bine, ai putea începe prin a opri apa.” Well, you could start by turning the water off.
He turned the faucet off, turning to see you looking at the sink with your mouth hanging open, making him laugh a little. “Chiar sunt prost.” I really am dumb.
Bucky shakes his head, chuckling softly as he squatted down to look at the pipe. “It’s okay, everyone loses their common sense at times. But hey, at least you know Romanian,” he teases you, glancing back over his shoulder.
You narrow your eyes on him, throwing the soaked towel in your hand at him. Bucky yelps, quickly getting the towel off him as he looks up to see your smug look. “This is what I get for helping? I could’ve just left the water on, I’m sure the landlord would love it,” he threatened playfully.
“No, it’s what you get for being an ass,” you shrug, a small smirk creeping onto your lips as you grab another dry towel to hopefully get what’s left of the water. Bucky looks at you while you’re turned away from him, licking his lips before giving his attention back to the pipe.
After looking it over for a few moments, he finally figured out what the problem was. He reached his left hand in the cabinet, tightening the pipe where it had come loose. “All right, I think I got it,” he announced as he stood up to turn the sink on, nodding when no water started leaking out. “It was just loose,” he tells you, turning the water back off before turning to face you.
You throw your towel into the pile with the others, having cleaned the floor the best you could, before walking over to the sink beside Bucky. “You are a saint,” you comment as you look over what he had done.
You are a saint. Those words shouldn’t have affected Bucky like they just did, but how could you call him that. Especially when you know what he's done, what he’s capable of doing.
“I thought I was an ass?” Bucky questioned teasingly, raising an eyebrow at you. You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you turn back to pick up the wet towels.
“I’m gonna go put these in my bathroom. Once I wash them, I’ll give you back your towels,” you tell him as you walk back to what Bucky guesses is your bathroom.
Bucky grabs a rag from your sink to dry his hands before stepping into your living room. Files scattered on your coffee table catches his eye, causing him to look back to make sure you haven’t returned yet. He picked up one of them and scanned through it quickly.
So this is why you’re here.
“Thank you so much, Bucky. I’m sure you want to go to bed now,” you said as you walked back into the room. Bucky turns around smoothly, dropping the file back on the table behind him.
He licked his lips as he nodded. “Yeah,” he replied shortly, scratching the back of his neck. He started towards your door, you following right behind him. “Um, good night,” he tells you with one of his tightlipped smiles.
“Night. Thanks again,” you respond with a smile.
Bucky couldn’t help but feel somewhat normal while he was around you. You reminded him of his life back before the war. When it was just him, his family, and Steve against the world. He… liked it.
If you get too close to her, something bad’s gonna happen. It always does, Barnes. Keep her out of it.
Shut up.
“Everything okay, Bucky?”
He looked up to see you already looking at him, your eyes full of concern. He doesn’t understand why, but he’s come to slowly learn that’s how you are. Maybe his therapist is right. Maybe he should make a friend. Especially one like you.
“Uh, yeah... Hey, if you’re up for it, you wanna get some coffee tomorrow? Well, later,” Bucky asked you, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants.
To say you were surprised was an understatement. You never thought that he would actively want to hang out with you. He always seemed to want to be alone, and given what he’s been through, you don’t blame him.
Then your instincts started kicking in. It was a bad idea. You shouldn’t be around him more than you have to. It was dangerous. He was dangerous. You were even once sent after him with your team. He used to be one of your targets.
But as you watched him wait for your response, how he bit his lip, how he glanced around the hallway somewhat nervously, your instincts didn’t matter. After all, he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore, right?
“I’d love to.”
××××××
@bucky-bunnie @learisa @magconfangurl1 @lylthy @rosiahills22 (If you would like to be removed/added please let me know!)
#DToB#marvel#marvel imagines#bucky barnes × reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes#winter soldier#tfatws#the falcon and the winter soldier#sebastian stan#kay writes
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Stark Spangled Banner
Stab Me In The Front
Part 1: America’s Asshole
Intro: It’s been a year since Katie was held hostage by Hydra, and whilst she’s still working through her feelings she has an idea about how she can make other people’s lives better as a result of her ordeal. Alongside this, she needs to take a trip to Boston to meet Harlan Thrombey-SIP’s latest author. Slightly nervous about taking a business trip alone after what happened last time, Steve offers to go with her.
What could possibly go wrong?
Warnings: Bad language. SMUT (NSWFW)
Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark
A/N: So, here we go. This was a request/idea from @icanfeelastormbrewing for an Avengers/Knives Out Cross Over where Katie and Steve come face to face with America’s Asshole! The tongues are sharp and the knives are out! This is set in 2015 so way before the KO storyline so therefore contains no spoilers!
Oh, @angrybirdcr I bloody love this edit and banner- the edit you have named the Ransom pre- Steve-Rogers-fucked-my-face-after-I-called-his-wife-a-hoe edit...
Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.
Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist
October 2015
“So, Mr Thrombey, that’s all confirmed.” Katie tapped at a key on her computer to lock the meeting in her calendar. “11 am, Next Thursday, the 15th ”
“I’ll send you through the zip code and location for your GPS.” Harlan responded “The house is just outside of Lincoln, not far from Pierce Park. It shouldn’t be too far for you if you’re staying at the Harbor.”
“Thank you.” Katie smiled as she spoke into her phone.“I look forward to meeting you on Thursday Sir.”
“Oh, less of the Sir, Harlan please. And the pleasure is all mine Miss Stark, I mean, Mrs Rogers, my apologies!” The man chuckled. “And thank you for accommodating my need to pull this meeting forward by a few days.”
“It’s not a problem.” She assured him. They exchanged pleasantries again and then she cut the call and leaned back in her chair, cracking her neck, before she double checked the travel arrangements. The hotel was booked, flight was sorted, hire care was confirmed. All that she needed to do was not forget the annotated manuscript or the cover ideas.
The door to her office opened and she looked up to see Tony leaning in the doorway, waving a Starbucks cup at her, along with one of their familiar brown paper bags, clearly bearing treats.
“I love you, bro!” She smiled at him as he wandered in, chuckling, placing the drink and paper bag down in front of her. She looked into the bag and gave a moan when she saw it was a rather large, gooey looking brownie, and gave a bigger moan when she sipped her drink and found it to be a Pumpkin Spiced Latte. “Perfect Elevenses!”
“Well thought you might need one, you’ve been locked in here since seven this morning…”
“You got FRIDAY spying on me?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“No.” He denied, but at the same time the AI affirmed her suspicions.
“He has indeed had me watch you, Mrs Rogers.”
“Traitor.” Tony rolled his eyes and Katie chuckled
“Well I had all this Harlan Thrombey stuff to sort, Steve’s still in Copenhagen with Sam chasing the alleged latest sighing of Bucky.” She shrugged “Not much point in lying in when you’re wide awake is there?”
“True.” Tony nodded. “Are you going back to the Compound tonight?”
“I might just stay here again if that’s ok?”
“Kiddo, you own part of this Tower, it’s always gonna be your home too.” Tony shrugged, “You can stay as long as you want.”
“Thanks Tone.” she smiled. She didn’t want to admit it, but she felt safer in the Tower whilst Steve was away, even thought it was ridiculous as the Compound was just as secure, being closer to her brother was a comfort.
“I haven’t forgotten what tomorrow is.” Tony looked at her.
Neither had she. It was a year to the day since Bucky had pulled her out of that shithole in Canada and rescued her from her ordeal at the hands of HYDRA. With a little sigh, Katie pulled off her glasses, a lasting consequence of her period of capture and torture. Ever since spending six weeks in that constantly lit cell she’d needed glasses for anything that required a long period of concentration on a computer screen or monitor if she wanted to avoid migraines. Bruce seemed to think it was something to do with the fact that her cell had been painfully bright all the time and that continued exposure to artificial light in such a way triggered a subconscious response.
She ran a hand over her face and looked at her brother, swallowing down the sudden spike of emotion, and swallowed.“I’ve been trying not to think about it.” she said gently.
“Which is why I booked you and Pepper into the Dominick for the afternoon.” Tony smiled at her, reaching over to take her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Well, Pepper has, I’ve just given her the credit card. Apparently you’re in for a full deep tissue massage, facial and then Franco’s booked to do your hair, oh and don’t bother telling me you’re busy as I had your diary cleared and everything reschedule to next week” He sat back, watching as she opened her mouth before shutting it, shaking her head softly. “You leave in thirty minutes.”
“You spoil me.” She smiled softly.
“Anything for my girls, plus I thought it might keep you busy whilst Spangles is otherwise engaged.”
“He was hoping to be back but when I spoke to him before he doesn’t know if he’s gonna be.” she shrugged. “It is what it is.”
Tony smiled at her before he stood up “Yes, it is. And this afternoon is your pamper time so get your shit together and meet Pepper downstairs.”
“Yes sir.” she said, saluting him with a grin.
****
As with anything Pepper or Tony booked, the spa was off the scale. Katie had been meaning to go for ages, and now, as she sat in the chair in Franco’s salon she was already searching available dates to go back. She laughed and joked with the stylist and Pepper, the pair of them enjoying yet another bottle of champagne as they had their hair done. A couple of hours later, at just gone seven, Pepper dragged her out over the road and into a ridiculously expensive wine bar.
“Feeling better?” Pepper asked as Katie took a huge gulp of her Sancerre.
Katie smiled. “Much, thank you.”
“You know, I’m always here if you want to talk to someone other than Steve about stuff.” Pepper looked at her “And it won’t go any further.”
“That’s the thing, I don’t wanna talk about it.” Katie sighed “You know, Pep, I see all these women out there that went through…well, you know, and I read their testimonies and I just wonder how they’re so strong, like, how can they can just stand up and talk about it?” She trailed off, shaking her head “And me? I just wanna pretend it never happened. So much for being an Avenger huh?”
“Hey.” Pepper shook her head, looking at her sternly. “Stop that, right now.”
“Well it’s true.” Katie shrugged. “I mean, I’m a public figure right? But all people know is I was missing for weeks, and it was put down to a mission gone awry. I just, well, I feel like I should be out there, trying to make a difference, helping people.”
“Kiddo, what you went through,” Pepper swallowed, “I can’t even begin to imagine. And how you’ve dealt with and processed it, well, frankly I don’t know how you’ve been so strong. There is no shame in wanting to simply move on and leave it in the past.”
“I know.” Katie sniffed a little. “Thank you. Having everyone around me makes me realise how lucky I actually am. I’ve got a huge support network. Not everyone who goes through…well, not everyone has that to fall back on.”
Pepper pondered something before she looked at Katie, “You know, we haven’t picked our Partner Charity for the Stark Relief Fund next year. We could make it one that deals with Sexual violence. No need to go into details as to why.”
Katie considered that for a moment, before she nodded. “That’s not a bad idea.” She clicked her deep purple manicured nails against her wine glass, thoughtfully. “It would make a difference, right?”
Pepper nodded. “Absolutely. Give it some thought, see how you feel.”
“I will, thanks.” she smiled.
****
Steve was exhausted but wasn’t willing to spend another moment away from his wife. So the moment the jet was down he headed straight for the garage, jumped on his bike and roared out of the compound heading down town towards Manhattan.
“Good Evening Captain Rogers.” FRIDAY greeted him as he pressed his palm to the access pad at the rear entrance from the underground car park “Mrs Rogers is in your apartment.”
“Thanks FRIDAY.” he said, as the elevator began to rise. It stopped a few floors up, and when the doors flew open he was greeted by Tony who was undoing his tie.
“Oh, you’re back.” He looked at Steve appraisingly.
“You’re up late.” Steve remarked in response.
“Just working on a few things.” Tony said vaguely. “How was the search for Tin Man?”
“Well, it was him alright.” Steve ran a hand down his tired face. “Few more leads to work on. We could have stayed out there for a bit longer truth be told but, well, I wanted to be here tomorrow, you know.”
The two men shared a moment of understanding, both of them having experienced unsurmountable raw pain and anguish over the weeks Katie had been missing and it wasn’t something they were likely to forget any time soon. If ever.
“She know you’re home?” Tony looked at him again. Steve shook his head.
“Wanted to surprise her.”
Tony smiled softly. “She’s probably asleep. Her and Pep have been in the Spa all afternoon and they’ve drunk a lot so…”
Steve gave a huff of a laugh. “Yeah she messaged me before saying you’d sent her there out for the afternoon. From the spelling mistakes in the text I figured there was a fair amount of alcohol that had been consumed.” He paused and smiled. “That was really thoughtful of you, Tony.”
“Well it happens occasionally.” Tony sniffed as the elevator stopped at his floor. “Listen, Steve…” Steve turned to face him. “She’s not been herself the last few weeks.” Tony scratched at his beard and Steve took a deep breath.
“I know.” he said gently “I think she’s just, well, processing, if that’s the right word. We only got back from our honeymoon three weeks ago, and it kinda hit her when we got back just what time of year it was. Whilst we were away she didn’t have time to think about it.”
“Just, well, take care of her for me okay?” Tony looked at the Soldier and Steve nodded.
“Always Tony, you had my word on that when I told you I wanted to marry her, and I meant it.”
Tony nodded and clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a look of thanks before he left the elevator on the Part Floor level. It began to rise again and Steve let out a soft sigh. Tony was right, the last two weeks in particular Katie had been a little quiet, less vivacious, almost withdrawn even. At first he had put it down to post honeymoon blues, but Natasha had pointed out that this time twelve months ago she had been at the mercy of HYDRA, with those bastards brutalising her in ways that he couldn’t even bring himself to think about. For this reason, he’d been reticent to go on the latest mission but Katie had insisted, pointing out that they couldn’t not carry on with their lives and that she would be alright.
The fact she had basically moved back into the Tower for the three days he had been gone, however, made him think that she wasn’t quite as alright as she had told him.
The doors opened on their floor and he stepped out. It was mostly dark as he headed through to the bedroom where he found that the TV was playing on the wall, but Katie was fast asleep, one of the pillows clutched to her chest as a makeshift cuddle partner. With a soft smile he closed the door and headed over to the bed. Kicking off his boots he lay on his side, facing her, and brushed her soft hair back off her face before pressing a kiss to the bridge then tip of her nose and finally her lips.
She stirred, her face scrunching up in that adorable way it always did, before she blinked her eyes open. It took her a second to focus but when she did her lips curled upwards into a soft smile which became an ear to ear grin.
“Hey, Sweetheart.” He said softly, kissing her again, his hand cupping her face.
“You’re home.” She reached up to lay her hand over his. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”
“Wanted to surprise you.”
“Well it worked.”
“I missed you.” He whispered, his thumb caressing her cheekbone as he leaned in for another kiss.
“Missed you more.” She shot back, her lips brushing his and he chuckled.
“Doubt it. How was the Spa?”
“Oh it was amazing.” She gushed, her eyes shining. “I had this deep tissue massage and the guy hit spots on my back I didn’t even know I had. The facial was great, and my hair…”
“I like the colour.” He smiled, gently moving his hand so he twirled a piece around his finger. The ends were slightly lighter than usual, almost a dark honey blonde, and it extended a little up the strands before evening out.
“It’s called ballayage.” She smiled at him. “I just fancied a bit of a change.”
“Looks good on you. And I’m glad you had a nice time, you deserve it.”
“How was the mission? Worth it?”
“Yes and no.” Steve shrugged. “We have a few more leads we can chase up but…” he took a deep breath “I’m beginning to wonder what the point is. He clearly doesn’t wanna be found.”
“The point is he’s your friend, your brother.” Katie moved her hand to run her fingers over his jawline, the pads scratchings lightly against his five-oclock shadow. “Maybe he just needs a bit of time to find himself first, that doesn’t mean you have to give up on him. Besides, I need to give him back his jacket.”
“And I need to thank him. For getting my beautiful girl out and safe.”
“I can’t believe it’s been a year tomorrow since he found me.” She said softly
“Is that what’s been bothering you?”
“Huh?”
“The last few weeks you’ve not been yourself.”
She licked her lips and nodded “Yeah, I just, well, I didn’t give it much thought when we were on our honeymoon, you know, but since coming back and ramping up the Thrombey Campaign it’s kinda hit home a little.”
And suddenly Steve understood. SIP were publishing the man’s latest book, “The Colour of Revenge” which was all about a Detective on the trail of a killer who was hunting down and dispatching of six men who had been acquitted of a gang rape and murder.
“Shit.” He let out a groan at the fact he hadn’t made the connection. “Honey, I’m so stupid not to realise that.”
“Hey.” She frowned, “Don’t…” She reached up and smoothed the lines that had appeared on his brow and he let out a sigh, gently reaching up to lace his fingers with hers, bringing her hand towards him and placing a soft kiss on her wrist. “It’s better now you’re home.” She assured him gently.
He smiled and gave her a gentle kiss again.
“Is that everything?” He pressed and she hesitated again.
“I’m scared.” She admitted eventually, looking at him.
“Scared of what?”
“Going away, on my own.” The tears welled in her eyes. “I hate that they made me like this, Steve.”
He let out a sigh, he hated that she was scared too. She didn’t deserve it.
“Why don’t I come with you?” He asked, the idea suddenly forming in his mind. Katie stilled for a moment and he continued. “Not to the actual meeting, but I can drop you off and pick you up, hang around, whatever you want me to do.”
She looked up at him smiling softly, not even trying to pretend she wasn’t relieved he had offered. “Would you?”
“Of course.” He nodded, wiping the tears off her face. “You only had to ask.”
“I didn’t want to. I know how busy you are here and…”
“That can wait.” He held her face in his hands as he drove his message home. “You’re the most important thing in my life and if me coming with you makes you feel better then…” He shrugged “Besides, I’ve always wanted to go to Boston.”
“I know we haven’t been back from our honeymoon long, but maybe we can make a little trip out of it if you like?” Her face was suddenly hopefully “Come back on the Saturday?”
“Sure.” Steve smiled at her. “Let’s do it.”
“Oh, Stevie you’re gonna love it.” she beamed, and he smiled at the way her face had gone from being furrowed with worry to alive with excitement. “Massachusetts is amazing in the fall and Boston is just stunning…”
“Well I’ll make sure I bring my sketch book.” He smiled “Give me something to do whilst you’re in the meeting.”
“Thank you.” She said softly. “I’ll book us somewhere nice to eat one night. Give us an excuse to wear something pretty.”
“Like you need an excuse.” He teased, and she nipped him harshly on the arm. He chuckled and then with a groan he unwillingly pushed himself up off the bed.
“I need a shower.” He said, almost apologetically. “I won’t be long.”
“You better not be.” She muttered and he smiled, dropping a kiss to her forehead before he headed into the bathroom.
True to his word, he wasn’t long. Five minutes, tops. But by the time he came back, the TV was off and Katie was fast asleep. Thinking back to what Tony had said, he found himself wondering if she had actually slept much at all whilst he was gone.
Steve dried himself off, stepped into a clean pair of boxers and then slid into the bed next to his wife, slipping his arms around her. Once her back was nestled snugly into his chest, he dropped a soft kiss to her neck and closed his eyes, happy to have her in his arms.
****
Steve woke the next morning to find his girl tangled around him. She’d shifted in the night, clearly, and now her face was pressed into his chest, right leg snaked between both of his, her right hand was slid under his arm, lightly gripping his shoulder whilst her left rested against her head, fingers in her hair. Smiling to himself he pulled her closer, relishing the feel of her against him. She murmured something incoherently as she gently moved, her cheek pressing into the hair on his chest, the hand around his shoulder slid down to the base of his back where her fingers simply rested, soft against his spine as she continued to sleep.
And Steve was quite happy to let her nap for longer, using him as her own personal cuddly toy.
He dozed in and out of consciousness again, drifting off for another ten minutes or so, before he felt Katie stirring in his arms, and a soft kiss gently being pressed to his jaw line. He smiled at the contact and tightened his hold on her again, his eyes still closed.
“Morning, Beautiful.” He said softly, his voice still thick with sleep.
“Morning, Soldier.” She said, her cheek returning to his chest as she basked in the safety and warmth of his hold as his hand crept up the back of the stolen shirt she was wearing, his rough fingers ever so gentle against her skin as he trailed the pads up and down her spine.
“Sleep okay?” He asked, his eyes still not opening.
“Yeah.” She assured him, truthfully. It had been the best night sleep she’d had in days.
“Good. What do you fancy doing today?”
He felt her still and then she pulled back slightly, and at that he opened his eyes and blinked to see those gorgeous emeralds locked onto him.
“Are you not needed at the Compound?”
He shook his head “Kitten, I’ve not seen you for almost three days so I figured we deserved one together.”
She groaned “I have meetings this morning.”
“That’s okay, I’ll meet you at lunch.” He said, tucking her hair behind her ear.
She didn’t argue. She knew full well why he’d taken the time out, and frankly she adored him for it. Without saying a word she leaned up and captured his lips in a gentle kiss that quickly became heated, but was shattered by the piercing noise of Katie’s alarm.
She gave a groan, and made to move.
“Don’t you dare.” Steve mumbled against her mouth, his grip on her tightening.
“Stevie,” She sighed “I gotta…”
He reached over, his large body flattening her into the mattress making her giggle as he swiped across the screen of her StarkPhone silencing it.
“You ain’t gotta do shit.” He said, hovering over her on his elbows. “Except me.” He added as an afterthought.
“Oh so you’re gonna to explain to the board why I’m late?”
“Well, to be honest,” he said, dipping his head to trail hot kisses up the side of the next, “they probably won’t even notice you’re not there. I mean, are you really that important?”
“Fuck you.” She giggled back.
“Believe me, I’m tryin’” he quipped, his mouth nipping at her ear lobe. That made her giggle even more and she felt his lips curve into a smile against her skin.
“I love it when you do that.” He whispered gently, using his leg to part hers, leaving a large thigh pressed against her mound.
“What?”
“Laugh.” His mouth moved up her jaw line. “It makes me happy.”
“You’re such a sentimental sap.” She mumbled, as his lips claimed hers again, the heat between her legs intensifying as the kiss grew deeper, tongues lashing against one another. Steve pulled back for long enough to pull his shirt over her head before his lips returned to hers and Katie’s hand slid into his hair, one hand gently winding into the longer locks on top, her nails on the other dragging against the hairline on his neck. His hands moved, one gently cupping the side of her face, the other, gently skimming over her breast, her nipples already hardened. He gently teased one with the pad of his thumb and his mouth moved down to the other, his tongue and fingers working in tandem. She gave a little involuntary twitch against his thigh and once more his lips quirked up into a smirk.
“You want something, Baby girl?” He asked, peeking up at her and she nodded.
“Stevie, don’t make me beg, please.”
And when she asked so nicely like that, how could he ever refuse? He hooked his fingers into the sleep shorts she was wearing and worked them down, before flipping down the waist band of his boxers. Katie bent her legs as he shuffled upwards and worked into her, the pair of them letting out a groan each at the stretch as he buried himself to the hilt. Steve’s hands fell to either side of Katie’s face as he held himself up on his forearms, kissing her deeply as he flexed his hips forward, again and again, picking up a gentle rhythm.
It was soft, it was gentle, it was loving, everything she knew her soldier to be and it wasn’t long before he had her writhing and groaning loudly, his lips assaulting that spot on her neck.
“So good,” he groaned, his thrusts getting deeper. “Feel so good, Sweetheart.”
“Keep talking.” She keened, arching into him as her hands raked down his back.
“You were made for me, God I love you Mrs Rogers. So fucking much.” His words were punctuated by his heavy breaths as she gave a soft cry, her head falling backwards, eyes fluttering shut as she tightened around him, her legs shuddering slightly as she came.
“Atta girl.” He panted, his hips becoming faster as he thrust through her orgasm, chasing his own. It wasn’t long before he felt the ribbons in his belly unravel and he came with a cry of his own, his head buried in her neck, hips slowing, thrusts going deeper before he eventually stilled, a loud contented sigh escaping his mouth.
After a few moments of them simply basking in the afterglow, Katie’s hands trailing through Steve’s ruffled hair as his nose slid against hers, she gave a sigh and pushed on his shoulders gently.
“Soldier, I really do need to get up.”
He pouted a little causing her to chuckle before he rolled off her and she pushed herself out of bed, heading for the en-suite. Steve watched her go before he swung his legs from under the covers,, found his boxers, pulled them on and headed down to the kitchen to make them both some coffee.
*****
The idea had sprung to Katie as she’d headed out for lunch. The local shop was donating a percentage of its earnings that month to a homeless charity, and it set her mind whirring.
“So you want to donate, all the profit we make, from what is going to likely be the biggest book SIP will ever publish, to charity?” Tony looked at her.
“In a nutshell, yeah.” She nodded. “We can split it across various charities, all those that help victims of sexual assault, abuse or crime…”
“Isn’t that what the Stark Relief Fund is for?” Saul, the SI Finance Director looked at her and she turned to face him.
“Yes, but it isn’t just about the money, it’s about raising awareness.” She pressed “A lot of people don’t know those charities existed. Hell, I didn’t know about half of them until a year ago. If we do this, think of the publicity and the press and…”
She trailed off, looking at Tony. He could see the excitement shining in her eyes. She had a point, and it wasn’t like SI needed the money. SIP was her company after all, and if she wanted to use it to do something good, help people, maybe even help herself…then that was fine by him.
He shrugged and looked round the table “SIP’s vision was never about making money.” Katie beamed at her brother as she realised he was backing her “It was always about helping those who needed a hand to get their work out there…I don’t see why in this case, where they author is already so well-known we can’t use that to help those who need it.”
There was a pause and she looked expectantly round the table. One by one the board members seemed to concede, all of them that is bar their Legal Manager, Dan Robertson who was frowning.
“You’re going to have to bring Mr Thrombey on board Mrs Rogers.” He looked at her. “We can’t just use his book as part of a campaign without his permission.”
“I know.” She assured him. “I’ve already realised that. I’m meeting him on Thursday next week, I’ll have a full proposal and pitch ready.”
There were a few murmurs around the table before Tony spoke. “Is that it? Are we settled?”
Everyone looked at one another, nodding, and Katie leaned back in her chair, smiling.
But, she wasn’t smiling now. She had less than twenty-four hours before they set off for Boston and her pitch was only half way through completion.
“Sweetheart.” Steve’s hands slid over her shoulders where she sat on the chair in her office. She looked effortlessly elegant, even in sweats and an off the shoulder sweater, one toned leg stretched out in front of her, the other bent at the knee so her foot was resting on the seat of the chair, her left hand was curled around her shin, her right was tapping at her keyboard, the dark blue framed glasses perched on her nose. “It’s late.”
“I know but,” she sighed, “this means a lot to me Steve. I need it to be right.”
Steve knew better than to argue. Instead he leaned over and kissed the side of her neck. “What are you stuck with?”
“I dunno it just…it all seems so impersonal.” She removed her glasses and wrinkled her nose as he sat down in the arm chair in the corner of the room “Facts and figures on sexual assaults and stuff, we all know it happens, it’s about making people want to do something about it.”
“Are you ready to make it personal?” He asked gently, taking a deep breath. He hated thinking about what she had gone through, he truly did, and if he had half a chance he’d rip the bastards limb from limb. But if she was ready to confront what had happened to her, he had to be there to support and back her all of the way, regardless of his own feelings.
“I don’t know. I was talking to Pepper about this the other day. I should be able to, I should be someone other women can look up to, being an Avenger and all but…maybe I’m just not strong enough.”
“You’re the strongest person I know.” Steve leaned forward and locked eyes with her.
“I don’t feel like it when it comes to this.”
“Honey,” he scratched at his head. “Without wanting to sound flippant, since January this year, you’ve been, okay, well maybe okay isn’t the word but you’ve gotten on with things. You’ve moved forward, we both did.”
“Because we were busy, and we had no choice…”
“Well maybe,” he shrugged. “But chasing down a sceptre, fighting Ultron, mobilising a new base, planning a wedding, running a business…it’s all time consuming, stressful stuff that if you really weren’t strong enough to deal with what happened, then it would have all gone to shit and probably tipped you over the edge into a nervous breakdown.”
She brushed a piece of hair behind her ear as she considered what he was saying.
“Honestly…” he continued, his eyes boring into hers. “If you want my opinion I think the fact that it’s the year’s anniversary of what happened that’s playing on your mind a little. You need to stop, look back and how well you’ve done and stop beating yourself up about all the things you haven’t”
She smiled softly and looked down at her hands before she glanced back up at him “When did you get so wise?”
He chuckled “Well I am ninety seven years old.”
She laughed “You don’t look a day over twenty five.”
Steve smiled and stood up. “I’m gonna make you a hot chocolate, and you’re gonna stop overthinking everything and come relax. We’re up early tomorrow. You can do the rest at the hotel tomorrow evening.”
“No can do, we’re going out.” Katie grinned at him “I booked the Chef’s table at Menton.”
“The what?” Steve frowned.
“You never heard of a Chef’s table?” She looked at him, and he shook his head. “Oh my God I’ve let you down, so badly. Check this out.” she tapped on her computer, bringing up the website and showed him the photos “It’s a private table with a glass wall that gives you a direct view into the kitchen. Totally impossible to get a reservation unless you book like a year in advance. Or name drop.”
Steve groaned. “You seriously dropped the Captain America wants a table line?”
“No, I dropped the Captain America’s wife want a table line.” She smirked, closing down the browser page.
“Pain in my ass.” Steve grumbled, standing up. But as he left the office there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
One that his wife had seen.
*****
“So, was it worth a name drop?” Katie asked as they walked back into the Fireside Lounge located in their hotel.
“I’m happy to overlook the fact you acted like a total brat to make that reservation, yes.” Steve grinned as he went to remove her coat from her shoulders. He looked her up and down, the tight black jump suit she was in was driving him crazy.
She grinned, and then shivered slightly.
“Cold?” He asked, frowning.
“A little, don’t wanna sit in my coat though.”
“Do you want me to nip up to the room, grab your cardigan?”
“Would you?” She asked, even though she knew perfectly well he would.
“Course.” He dropped a kiss to her cheek “You get the drinks in, be right back.”
She headed over to the bar. The bartender, Will, was the same one who had been on before so he greeted her with a smile.
“Mrs Rogers. How was your meal?”
“Fantastic thank you.” She smiled. “Can I get two Bourbon’s please? I’ll leave it to your choice, I’ll be back in a second, just need to nip to the bathroom.”
She excused herself and once she’d finally had the pee she’d been dying for since they left the restaurant, she set about touching up her make-up, smiling to herself. She’d deliberately picked this jumpsuit as she knew it got Steve’s blood pumping. It was a simple, plain black one with a V-neck line, but it was tight. Teamed with a thin red patent leather belt, matching Jimmy-Choos and purse all set off by the bright red lipstick she was sporting, she knew she looked good. Not that Steve had much room to talk, she could happily perve on him in the dark pants he was wearing, teamed with a tweed blazer and that damned blue shirt, his collar left open. Frankly, he looked good enough to eat, which she was planning on doing later.
She headed back into the bar and spotted Steve perched on one of the stools, blinking as she saw he’d changed into a simple brown, long sleeved tee, but then again he always did like to get out of his dress shirts as soon as they got home usually, so she wasn’t that surprised.
“Hey, Handsome. You changed.” She slipped her arms round him from the back. He felt different, he was softer than Steve was. He smelt different, there was a really heavy woody scent to his aftershave whereas Steve’s preferred Hugo Boss was a lot lighter and she realised with horror that Steve hadn’t changed his outfit at all.
This wasn’t Steve.
When the man spun to face her, Katie had to do a double take as the likeness was indeed uncanny at first glance, but as she blinked and looked at him she noticed subtle differences. His eyes were cold and calculating, his jaw line wasn’t quite as sharp as Steve’s and the smirk he wore on his face was nothing like the cheeky one Steve would sport. It was almost a sneer which spread across his face, every feature laced with disdain.
“What the fuck?” The man glared at her as Katie stepped back, holding her hands up in apology.
“I’m sorry, genuine case of mistaken identity,” she said, taking him in. His shirt was the wrong colour too, only she hadn’t been able to see that from the back.
“Yeah well if you’re touting for business I already got some today so get lost.” The man drawled in his light, Boston accent.
“Like I just said I thought you were…hang on…” Katie frowned as his words registered “You already got some?”
“Yeah, that’s right.” He looked her up and down, arching a brow.
“You think I’m a hooker?” Katie snorted.
“Pretty high end one though, I’ll give you that.” The man’s voice was now amused, as he nodded towards her chest.
“I’m not a hooker.” Katie shook her head, laughing in disbelief.
“Oh, sorry. Do you prefer the term escort?”
She rolled her eyes, flashing her left hand at him. “I’m married, this was a genuine mistake….”
She moved away from him to the side, nodding at Will who slid the check over for her to sign to charge the drinks to their room.
Ransom observed her for a moment, fighting the smirk that was threatening to break across his face. After another row with his stupid Libtard cousin and his mother who had been at his Grandfather’s house before, he’d come out with the sole intention of getting laid and then so drunk he could hardly remember his name. After a visit to one of his usual fuck pieces, he’d achieved the first part, now he was concentrating on the second. He’d been initially irritated by this woman’s interruption, but now she was getting sassy back, and he wasn’t about to let it drop. He could tell she had money,that much was clear to see. The way she talked, held herself, was dressed. Whilst she wasn’t a hooker as he had originally thought (although to be fair to her, she was pretty hot, he’d consider fucking her if the opportunity arose), she was probably living off some seventy odd year old rich banker husband. Huh, maybe she wanted a fuck after all…frustrated little trophy wife.
“So, tell me. Does your husband know you’re here trying to tap me up?” He looked at her.
“You know, if I was trying to errr…tap you up, you wouldn’t be able to afford me” She shot back, signing her name on the cheque with a flourish.
“Try me.” Ransom smirked, making a show of looking her up and down. “How much for that ass?”
“I’ll kick yours for free you self-entitled dick.” She glared at him before she slid the signed paper and pen back to the bartender.
Ransom gave a bark of a laugh “I’ll pass thanks.”
Katie snorted and glanced sideways at look at him, scarlet red lips pursed as she eyed him over her glass of bourbon. “Good decision, because I’ve dropped bigger men than you for fun.”
“Sure you have, Dollface” Ransom quirked an eyebrow, elbow leaning on the bar, angling his body towards her. She kept hers facing forwards, arms resting on the bar top, her head shaking slightly.
“You have no fucking idea who I am do you?” Katie shook her head, not looking at the prick stood next to her. She hated using that line, but, well, when the occasion arose to get one over on a weasely little shit like this, she wasn’t going to pass it up.
“Why should I?” He snorted “I don’t know all the little bitches in Boston.”
Katie felt her mouth drop open and she was about to retaliate when Steve gently appeared by her side, dropping her cardigan over her shoulders.
Ransom recognised him straight away. He’d had it quite often, been told he looked similar to Captain America. So this meant the woman he’d been baiting for the last five minutes was his wife, Katie Rogers, sister of Billionaire Tony Stark, the Avenger, Supernova.
He’d called Supernova a hooker.
Ransom looked into his glass of scotch, turning away back to the bar, snorting with laughter.
“Sorry baby, Sam called and…” Steve stopped, frowning at the look on Katie’s face. “You okay?”
“Fine.” She looked up at him, smiling and nodding towards a cosy sofa over at the other side of the bar. “You wanna go sit down over there?”
“Sure.” He nodded, picking up his glass of bourbon, he held out his free hand for her and she jumped down off the stool.
“I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure.” She snarked to the man next to her “But I don’t lie so…”
Steve frowned, wondering what had gone down whilst he’d been away. He glanced at his wife and then turned to look at the guy that was sat on the stool next to where Katie had been to see if he recognised him and did a double take. He recognised him alright, but only because he looked incredibly like him. Granted, there were a few subtle differences, but the resemblance was uncanny, to the point that at a first glance in the street, you could be fooled.
“Pal, you should keep that bitch on a leash.” Ransom spoke, his eyebrows raising and in front of him Steve stiffened.
“What did you just say?” He frowned, pulling himself up to full height.
“Seriously, man. You save the world from Nazi’s, get frozen for seventy years and then end up marrying that.” Ransom smirked, enjoying baiting the Captain “I’d ask ‘em to put you back under…”
Steve’s nostrils flared and he felt his neck getting warmer. “Don’t you dare talk about my wife like that.”
“Steve, leave it, come on.” Katie gently placed her palm on Steve’s chest. “The guy’s a complete ass hole. If brains were dynamite I doubt he’d have enough to blow his head off.”
“Well if we’re talking about blowing,” Ransom looked Katie up and down before locking onto her eyes. “You up for the job?
Katie let out a bark of a laugh, her hand still on Steve’s chest which was positively humming with anger as she turned to face Ransom, contempt etched across every single inch of her face.
“Go jerk yourself off and wipe it on a curtain like your father should have done with you.”
“I’d rather wipe it in your hair.” came the quip back.
And that was it. That was the point that Steve Rogers snapped.
There was a loud smash, the glass he was holding shattered in his grip as his fist contracted in pure anger. Katie barely had time to realise what had happened before he had stepped forward and grabbed Ransom by the front of his shirt, lifting him with ease, slamming him on the bar.
“Steve!” Katie pulled on his arm. “Baby, he really isn’t worth it, let go!”
“Captain Rogers!” Will behind the bar was desperately trying to talk him down as well “Please, don’t make me call security.”
Security! Steve wanted to snort. Like that would do any good.
“Soldier, come on.” Katie tried again, pleading to his reasonable side. “Look, we’ve had such a nice night. Don’t let him ruin it.”
Steve let out a deep breath, he wanted nothing more than to knock the asshole’s teeth down his throat, but he felt Katie’s touch on his arm and her pleading tone and he let go, shoving the man hard.
“I would tell you to apologise.” Steve snarled stepping back. His voice was steely, eyes carrying none of their usual warmth.“But I suspect it’s pointless”
“Yup.” Ransom nodded “Totally pointless.”
“Like your existence.” Katie mumbled, Ransom snorting in response.
“Look, Drysdale, my manager’s told you before.” Will said, his voice laced with vexation as he shuffled from behind the bar to sweep up the glass that Steve had shattered. “Any more trouble and you’re gonna be banned.”
Ransom’s nostrils flashed angrily as he looked at the man “’I’m gonna be banned? Eat shit! He’s the one that just attacked me! He ripped my shirt!” he gestured down to where Steve had grabbed him, two tears either side of the buttons of his shirt “This is a Fendi!”
“Ransom, just shut up and apologise.” Will pressed again. “Or you’re gonna have to leave.”
“Fuck this, I was going anyway.” Ransom snarled, knocking back his drink. He stood up and pulled on a long, tan coloured camel coat before he glared at Steve then Katie “Really bad smell in here.”
Katie rolled her eyes, deciding to let him have that childish one without any fuss. But Steve didn’t.
“Close the door on your way out.” He watched as the man stopped, took a deep breath before angrily flinging the door open, his coat flapping behind him. There was a moment’s pause before it slammed shut.
“Sorry.” Steve turned, apologising to Will.
“He’s a dirt bag and a cretin.” Will shrugged, as he waved the apology off. “No redeeming features whatsoever. Well, none that I’ve seen and trust me, I’ve seen him a hell of a lot.”
“Is your hand okay?” Katie asked Steve gently. She turned his right hand over to see that there were no cuts at all from the glass, which was good.
“Yeah, fine, don’t worry.” Steve looked at her, frowning. “Honey, what on Earth just happened?” He asked her softly, as she took a deep breath, blowing it out of her mouth.
“I went to the bathroom and when I came back, well, I thought he was you from behind so gave him a hug.” She shook her head “Soon as I touched him I realised I was very, very wrong. I tried to apologise and he called me a hooker.”
“A hooker?” Steve repeated, arching an eyebrow.
“Yeah, so I told him even if I was he wouldn’t be able to afford me.”
At that Will, who had been busy pouring them both another drink, laughed as he slid two short tumblers of bourbon back over to them. “He won’t have liked that at all.”
Steve nodded his thanks to the man as Katie looked at him. “How come?” She asked.
“Well, simply put, his family one way or another are loaded, and Ransom likes to be the flash bastard if you get what I mean.”
“What do his family do?” Katie asked, “I’ve never even heard of the Drysdales.”
“His mother and father run a real Estate Company.” Will shrugged, “A local one round Massachusetts, but you’ll have heard of his grandfather, or if you haven’t you’ve been living under a rock for the last twenty years.”
“Who?” she asked.
“Harlan Thrombey, the crime fiction author.” Will replied, and Katie felt the colour drain from her face. She turned to look at Steve whose eyes had also widened, and she gave a groan.
“Shit.”
****
Part 2
**Original Posting**
#stark spangled banner#steve rogers#Katie Stark#steve rogers x ofc#steve rogers x original female character#ransom drysdale#mcu#mcu fanfic#avengers#marvel#marvel fanfic
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Cheaters Never Prosper
Part 1 - Summer Beginnings
Pairing: Brother’s Best Friend!Bucky x OC
Summary: Bucky brings his new college girlfriend to the lake house. Old feelings arise and he has to fight to win the game he and Ace have going, but as they say, cheaters never prosper.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 3.1k
>———————————<✪>———————————<
“That’s right folks, it’s gonna be a hot one out there today! Kickin’ off the summer 37 degrees and climbing, so stay cool and safe out there!”
Music from the radio buzzed through the kitchen and into the living room, crackling occasionally. The house was dim, all the curtains drawn shut to block out as much heat as possible in the large house and Acelynn Rogers was unimpressed. Trudging her way down the tall set of stairs she wandered into the kitchen where her mom was stood, digging through the fridge. “Don’t lie to me, lady. I know you’re just trying to cool off.”
Chuckling, her mom pulled the large watermelon from the back of the fridge. “Oh hush, you’re gonna be late for school.” She reached for the knife on the counter, pointing it at her daughter as she spoke.
Grumbling something about how the school was too warm and that they should just “cancel it anyway,” because, “who needs exams”, she stuffed the laces into her dusty sneakers and walked out of the house.
The air was stuffy and damp, Acelynn seemed to sweat within seconds of stepping onto the front porch. The metal railing was too hot to touch and her thighs rubbed together uncomfortably as she scrambled down the stairs. Red braids could be seen through the bushes and right on time, the face of her best friend appeared at the front gate to her (oversized) family home. “Wanda!” she cheered, drawing out her name in excitement.
“Acelynn!” Her friend cheered back in the same tone; something that had become a ritual for the past five years they had known each other. That was the only time they used each other’s full names, often too lazy and shortening it to one syllable instead.
The walk to school was short, but not sweet. It was muggy and far too uncomfortable for any amount of physical activity. “I can’t wait to go to the summer home.” Ace sighed, absolutely delighted to go visit the mansion they visited every summer just outside a small town a few states over.
Wanda nodded in agreement, brushing her braids off her shoulders. “Me too, I can’t believe my parents are actually letting me go, and bonus, we can drive. We are going to be in for a wild summer.”
That they were, a wild summer was an understatement though, especially considering her parents wouldn’t be joining them until two weeks later and were even going to let her drive the convertible down to the house after this weekend’s graduation ceremony. Stepping foot onto the grounds of their high school just as the bell rang, they waved goodbye, “you’re coming over tonight, right?” She called to Wanda, who in turn gave a thumbs up as she spun on her heel and jogged through the front doors. Acelynn turned the other direction and sprinted for her math exam, sliding into her seat just at the last second.
>———————————<✪>———————————<
Watching the clock tick by second by second made her want to slam her head through the desk in front of her. She had done three exams today and finished her last one with thirty minutes to spare. It was all she could do to keep from asking to go to the bathroom and just never coming back. Just as she felt herself zone out again, the bell rang. Shooting up from her seat, she grabbed her belongings: a nearly empty bag and the pen she used to draw on her leg after finishing her exam. Sprinting from the classroom, she stopped in the hallway to plan her route and, expertly, she dodged excited seniors and the leftover freshman left and right before coming to a stop in front of the front doors.
Breathing deep, she pushed them open to step outside, but not before Peter Parker came sprinting out of nowhere and tackled her to the ground. “We’re free!” He cheered, causing laughter to erupt from Ace.
Grinning, she tried shoving him off. “That we are!” Grabbing her hand, Peter helped her to her feet and she caught sight of Ned and MJ catching up behind them. Aside from Wanda, Peter was her best friend. They shared the same birthday and were born in the same hospital. Her parents were best friends with his aunt and uncle and they practically grew up as siblings. “The invitation is still open to join Wanda and I at the summer home next week, we leave Sunday morning after grad.”
The three friends all looked to each other and sighed, “we all got jobs last week, we’re stuck here, sorry Ace.” Peter nodded at Ned’s statement and she sighed even though she understood because her and Wanda were told to get jobs for the summer in that little town. “We’ll still make it for our birthday weekend though.” At that, Ace’s eyes lit up and she grinned mischievously.
“Alright deal. Steve said he would buy us drinks for that weekend and my parents said that they would leave early.”
The friends said their goodbyes and headed home, Wanda and Ace turning the other direction to head to their neighborhood. “So this weekend, I’ll go pack at home after grad and then come by for dinner, deal?”
Ace nodded, “that works, I still need to find out when Steve and his friends are coming down.”
“Do you think Barnes will be there?” Wanda asked, even at the mention of the last name her cheeks flushed. They grew up really close for years, with him being Steve’s best friend. Their parents called him Acelynn’s long lost brother, sometimes she pretended to hate the guy, teasing him and him teasing her back. Wanda knew she was head over heels in love with him. That being said, Ace did hate him. Hated his perfect teeth and his perfect hair and the perfect way he dressed. Hoping it would go away when Bucky left for university, she paid him no attention last summer. It upset both Steve and Bucky that they didn’t hang out much, but she covered it by working at the bakery all summer and spending as little time as possible at the summer home.
Shrugging, she tightened the straps of her backpack and set off down the cement stairs of her high school. “Don’t know, don’t care to be honest.” A lie. A flat out, dirty lie. “Even if he was, why would it matter. He’s a pompous college boy anyway, I don’t need that.”
Their bags sat uncomfortably on their shoulders and the sun beat down on their necks, Wanda stayed silent and watched Ace fight with herself back and forth about her conflicting feelings about the oldest Barnes. They passed his family home at the end of the street and like always, Ace searched for his car. Her heart pounded in her chest, but the sleek black car stayed missing in action. Swallowing dryly, she glanced to Wanda who used this silence to speak up. “Let’s go swimming. Get our minds off graduation.” The proposition brought up her newly dampened spirits and she nodded, the two jogging their separate ways to grab their swimsuits.
Acelynn entered the house, the temperature change was welcome, but insignificant in it’s efforts to cool her down. She changed and pulled her shorts from earlier on and wiping her sweaty palms on her thighs, smeared the black pen ink.
>———————————<✪>———————————<
The bike ride to the river was warm, too warm. Rubber bike handles came off on their hands and they were glad to see the dirt road that held access to the lake. Whipping down the dusty path, they hollered and cheered. The ride made her feel free as the breeze cooled her hot and sweaty skin. Trees passed by, light reflecting off the girl’s faces and they smiled, coming to a screeching halt at the bottom. Just as the dust cleared, they both sprinted for the dock. Wanda grabbed Ace’s waist and they both wrestled each other into the freezing cold water, their backs hitting it with a satisfying smack.
Laughing, they pulled themselves from under the water and sighed in relief as the coolness settled onto their skin. The sky was blue, not a cloud in the sky as Ace lay on her back, floating on the water and letting her blonde hair soak. Water flooded her ears and she closed her eyes enjoying the peace and quiet.
Bucky laughed as Ace splashed him, Steve jogging up the hill to get the ball that Bucky ‘accidentally’ tossed up there. Hands running over the water, Ace smiled, once again enjoying the peace of being with her brother and his friend. The peace was ruined when Bucky tackled her under the water, she gasped at how cold the water was. Having been too chicken, she hadn’t quite gotten in yet. She got used to it quickly when she realized that Bucky was just kind of... staring at her. Grabbing his face, she pulled him in, kissing him with so much passion they both had to break for air much sooner than either of them liked. Bucky, grabbed her again, pulling her in and holding her tight to his chest as they shared that moment. She took a deep breath in, shocked beyond words. Looking up at him, she closed her eyes for a moment and-
Cold water hit her face and she gasped. Wanda’s laughing broke through the leftover memory fog and she glared at her before laughing herself. “Come on, we gotta go. Your mom is gonna kill you if you’re not home for dinner on time.”
>———————————<✪>———————————<
Graduation was warmer than the sun. The gym was hot and there were too many bodies for the outdated air conditioning to manage. The small graduating class of 50 sat in chairs on the floor and parents sat up in the bleachers. Ace was bummed out, her brother hadn’t shown up and he promised to be there. The valedictorians talked about nothing and in turn, her and MJ looked at each other from across the room, shooting each other with finger guns to ‘kill’ each other. Wanda was sat in front of her and the two girls just kept banging their heads together while their principal droned on and on about how “adulthood is beautiful and everyone will do wonderfully in college.” The speech had been the exact same as at Steve’s graduation a year prior and when it finally came time to walk the stage, everyone trudged, the heat making them feel sludgy.
Wanda walked as gracefully as ever, her brother Pietro following with a light jog and a jump in the air. Rolling her eyes at the athlete, Acelynn waited for her turn, dripping in a pool of sweat in her crumby fold up chair that felt like it would collapse at any second.
“Acelynn Rogers.” Her principal said with a smile, they had gotten to know each other quite well... on many occasions. Her family cheered, and she grinned. Her grin only grew when she saw her big brother standing beside her mom in the bleachers yelling the loudest out of them all. After the ceremony concluded and students were recognized and given awards (Ace included for her impeccable attendance which should have been a joke) she sprinted out to the parking lot in her sneakers. Her mom got her in a dress, but she had tossed the heels aside as soon as the ceremony ended.
“Stevie!” She shouted and he turned, grinning as she ran at him. She jumped into his arms and he hugged her close.
“Acely!” He cheered, spinning her around and absolutely crushing her ribs. He set her down and kissed the top of her head, “you’re graduated!”
“I’m graduated! Are you staying for dinner?” She so desperately wanted him to say yes, but he shook his head sadly.
“Sorry, kid, I gotta go to the lake house tonight. Buck is meeting me there,” Wanda whipped her head around from where she stood with her family, crushed under her brothers arm, “and I have to let him in.”
“Oh, yeah okay. That’s fair. We’ll celebrate tomorrow though?” At that Steve nodded, sending a wink her way and she smirked in response before her mom squished them together for a picture.
>———————————<✪>———————————<
The Rogers’ (minus Steve) and the Maximoff’s had dinner together that night. It wasn’t often that everyone got together, but they did today. Her mom cut up vegetables in the kitchen, talking about nonsense work stuff with Wanda’s mom and their dads cooked burgers on the barbecue. It was short and sweet, the humidity becoming too much for everyone so they retired early. Wanda’s parents hugged their daughter goodbye like they would never see her again even though she would see them in a few weeks when she drove back up for their own trip.
The girls spent the evening packing for the summer, passing out on Acelynn’s bedroom floor that night. They woke up early, the sound from the neighbour’s lawn mower shocking them as though cold water had been dumped on their heads. “I guess that means it’s time to go.” Wanda crawled up from her spot on the fluffy rug and stretched. Plucking a record off the wall, Ace nodded, slipping it into its covering to set in one of her many bags.
They got dressed, both just choosing a cropped band tee out of Ace’s closet and a pair of jean shorts. They ran downstairs for some breakfast and said goodbye to her parents, calling a “peace out, homie” up to her father in his office, who in turn scolded her for such informal language.
Much like the day before, the air was sticky and too warm, the garage still stuffy from having gone unopened for several days. After struggling to cram their belongings into the trunk, they finally got it organized and closed. “All the cassettes are in the front somewhere, see if you can find them before we get outta town,” Ace was buzzing with excitement. She felt as though someone took a box of popsicles and just blended it all up to inject into her. They were graduated, it was summer and they only had to pop back to drop off Wanda in three weeks. She was stoked.
Taking off across town, they stopped at the gas station for some drinks and a couple snacks before heading out. As they left town, the nice houses started to become fewer and far between, more trees than civilization. There were a few camping spots, but none really. It wasn’t a large town that they lived in, but it wasn’t a small one either. People lived their lives; some would move, many simply stayed. Families in that town ran many generations back, all intertwining as friends or relatives somehow. Although it wasn’t obvious, Ace was desperate to leave. She wanted to experience the city, live a little, do something other than sit around this little town her whole life. Ace was eccentric as her father liked to say, more outgoing than many people in town, but they all just liked her like that.
Trees and mountains grew tall beside them over the hours, sometimes the terrain flattened out. Other times it didn’t. They stopped at a diner about halfway to the “mansion”, right around one in the afternoon. They took it as takeout and drove up to one of the many beach accesses that littered the highway. There were tons of little lakes littered throughout their drive and they took a moment to stand in the fresh water and watch people swim, talking about how good their sandwiches were and what it would be like to be one of the many ducks flying overhead. With a sigh and a stretch, they got back in the car and headed out again.
They barely made it to town, having forgotten to fill up with gas for a third time. They rolled into the gas station just on time, filled up and took the rest of the drive to the mansion. The mansion sat near the lake, about twenty minutes out of town and down a back road. Her parents built it when they first got married, always wanting to have a place to escape to in the summer with the kids, her and Steve felt like they grew up in two places.
As they neared the house though, Ace found herself growing nervous. “Wan, I haven’t seen him in a year and a half… it’s dumb because I kinda missed him.
Wanda had been fully expecting this revelation, just wasn’t expecting it when they were driving along the nicely paved road lined with beautiful red maple trees so close to the house. “Of course you did, you kissed him.” Wanda stretched in the passenger seat, her legs and butt sore from sitting all day, “At least be civil. You can hate him all you want if you so choose, but we both know you’re in love with him.”
Acelynn sighed, glancing to her friend briefly before signalling to turn into the driveway. Wanda’s jaw dropped in awe, “I forgot how nice…” she trailed off, watching as Ace’s face fell. The beautiful lake house had an upper and lower porch, the upper porch extending off the bedrooms upstairs and windows adorning the house in various places. It was a beautiful home, Wanda felt it was almost indescribable, there were no words for how magnificent (and massive) it was. There was a four car garage next to the house that matched the siding. One of the doors was open, housing an all too familiar shiny black car for Acelynn’s liking. “He’s here.” Wanda murmured in an almost creepy sing-song tone.
“And so are we.” She shook her head, pulling up around the planter in the middle of the driveway and stepped out, stretching her legs. “Steven!” She called, pulling the trunk open. On cue, he came bounding down the steps. He ran for his sister who screamed and ran away, a chorus of “no” falling from her lips as he grabbed her waist and hoisted her over his shoulder.
“Barnes! We have a delivery!” He called into the house, grabbing the suit cases with his sister pounding on his back.
“Put me down!” She shouted just as Wanda spun around, wide-eyed and looking rather distraught. Before she could ask anything that’s when she saw it too.
Bucky hand in hand with a beautiful, skinny, tall blonde, Steve’s girlfriend traipsing behind them with a similar expression on her face that Wanda had, hers more apologetic. The red-head Steve was dating, Natasha, knew everything whereas Steve knew nothing aside from the little crush.
Feeling sick, she held onto Steve’s arm a minute as he set her down. Her heart crushed on the floor, she could see it being stepped on right under Bucky’s feet and tears welled in her eyes. Why would he care? She was stupid to think the kiss meant something to him.
>———————————<✪>———————————<
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed it, this was my first tumblr fic and I’m really happy with it so far! I will be posting other parts with time (unless of course no one wants me too).
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All You Knead is Love Chapter Four: A Bit Untraditional
Challenge: The CBC 1k Writing Challenge by @captainscanadian
Prompt: Bakery AU
Pairing: Baker!Bucky x CEO!Reader
Warnings: Loads and loads of fluff, angst, mentions of PTSD and violence, pining, language as always, and slow burn
*TW: PANIC ATTACK*
Description: After being cut off by her family, Y/N L/N started up her own business. With her business finally rising to the top after three years, her family invites her back on two conditions: that she finds a man and gets married. Once she accomplishes that, then she’ll be able to access her family’s fortune again, which could help her business immensely. While that didn’t sound horrible to her, Y/N had never let herself have the time to meet other people, and has no time now. Running on a deadline for the company, she picks the closest person she can find: which happens to be the sweet, shy, yet hot baker who occasionally caters at her galas.
Words: 2,064 words
A/N: Hey guys! It’s been a solid two months, but I am back and hopefully kicking it with this series. I actually decided to rewrite the ending of the story from what I originally had planned, so I’m very very excited to write it. The holidays are coming up which has me excited, and if you haven’t already sen in a request for the Twelve Days of Fluffmas, you most definitely should. Again, this is for @captainscanadian‘s writing challenge(which you should go join do it do it do it) and hope you enjoy :))
Thursday approached menacingly and rapidly. In the few days they had to prepare, Y/N had managed to move all of her belongings from her pretty empty apartment on the Lower West Side, and into the house that they had bought. She couldn’t be any more grateful for her real estate agent for being so snappy with the process of buying the house. The apartment she left behind had barely been decorated, so the process wasn’t too difficult for her to move in. Bucky on the other hand had started to bring boxes over, at Y/N’s slight insistence that her parents may ask to come over, but his house held so many memories that he knew it would take much longer. It was difficult for him to leave the home he had known for so long, full of cherished memories and the only stable home he had after Iraq. But he was ready to let it go.
The evening of the big engagement dinner Y/N and Bucky were frantic, rushing around the house after work to shower and look presentable, making sure they could pull the stunt off. Bucky’s nerves had been on edge all day, slipping out of the house at two am, hours earlier than normal to start his day. As he talked to customers and served coffee, the words he’d rehearsed with Y/N echoed in his brain, taking over every nook and cranny of his thoughts that he messed up several orders. This time he wouldn’t get nervous. It took him long months to feel the slightest bit comfortable in his own skin and around his neighbors, so if he ran his own bakery he could propose, right?
“So,” Mrs. L/N tried to conceal her disgusted face, “James, what kind of, er, delicacies do you make?”
So the conversation was less than great, even Bucky could admit that. Although Y/n had warned him ahead of time that her parents were not the most amazing conversationalists, he expected something better than this awkward discussion about his job. He loved his job. It brought back cinnamon flavored memories of baking at Christmas with his ma, his dad and younger sister yelling over Scrabble in the living room. Barnes Brooklyn Bakery was his pride and joy, yet he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious when both of Y/N’s parents looked down on it.
“I make lots of things. It requires an earlier or later start time based off of what I’m making, because I want everything to be fresh. But my ma’s croissants are a big seller, and I know that Y/N loves my cinnamon rolls.” He sent her a soft smile, one that the woman in question couldn’t help but return.
“They’re amazing, mom, you have to try them. I swear those hands are absolutely magic and anything that’s made from them is as well.” She intertwined her pinky with Bucky’s on the table, admiring the way the candlelight illuminated the slope of his nose and the hollow of his cheekbones. God, this man has no right being this beautiful. “Bucky’s a hard worker and it shows.”
Y/N’s praise breezed through Bucky like a breath of fresh air, and suddenly his head was clear again, cheeks flushing. “Thanks, doll.”
“And what about your pay, James? How much do you make annually? I have to make sure you’ll be able to support both you and Y/N. After all, her pay from her… makeup brand and her funds can’t be enough.” Fury raged through Y/N, Bucky could probably see it in her eyes as she opened her mouth, prepared to make her argument.
“I make well enough at Orion, dad, but that’s not the point.” Meeting Bucky’s stare from her peripheral vision, she almost panicked. The reason they were sitting there in the first place was so Bucky could get more money for his bakery. “Must you really bring up business at the table? I’m simply trying to have a nice dinner with my boyfriend and my parents, is it really that difficult to ignore money matters for once?”
Her parents eyed each other, as if they were speaking in their own silent, separate language and reluctantly quieted down. The rest of dinner was... tense, to say the very least, stiff questions about childhood and answers being reciprocated as well. Sitting in the presence of her parents, their food tasted bland, but that could’ve been from the anxiety of waiting for the proposal. They’d decided that Bucky was to pop the question while they ate dessert, just a simple small speech and a few tears.
Bucky’s eyes kept trailing back to Y/N as they shared a matcha tiramisu, repeating the words “will you marry me” a million differents ways in his head. The small restaurant he felt comfortable with suddenly felt too small, Bucky not knowing when the proper time to get down on one knee. They hadn’t discussed this. Y/N had just said “whenever you feel is right”, but when was right? The whole idea just felt so wrong to him. Marriage was supposed to be loving, a holy union and commitment for the rest of their lives. He and Y/n didn’t love each other. The whole sham of being husband and wife, for money suddenly felt so sickening to him. The room was closing in on him and all he wanted to do was bolt out and never turn back. He was going back out, he was going to, he felt it, and-
“Marry me, Y/N.” Dead silence. Eyes from all the customers sitting were baring through the couple, seeing his innermost secrets and every one of them felt like a beam of light, boring straight through his soul. Bucky hadn’t even realized how he had practically yelled it at her until the restaurant had gone quiet and he was absolutely mortified. Y/N’s eyes were wide in shock, as this was not how she imagined it going. Yet, the show had to go on.
He instinctively dropped onto one knee, eyes trained at the ground because he was scared of what he would see in her eyes. Short puffs of breath left his mouth and he all of Manhattan could hear his heart pounding. “When we met, I knew you were the one for me. I knew you were beautiful, hell, y-you were gorgeous that day you walked into the bakery, but every time you came in after I got to know the beautiful woman that wasn’t just on the outside, but on the inside too.” His eyes started tearing up, from both his kind of true confession and the pressure that was being put on him. “I-I promise to love you with all my heart. You’re my best friend, my confidante, my soulmate, and I want to be walking by my side for the rest of our lives, doll. I want to be yours forever. What do you say?”
Bucky lifted his gaze up to meet hers, hands covering her mouth as a soft sigh left her lips. Y/N couldn’t believe the beautiful sight. Shaking hands held a small cut diamond nestled in between two simple silver bands. Bucky’s hair was fluffy, newly so from his haircut the other day, clean shaven jaw showcasing the highlights of his cheekbones, and his eyes. She could go on forever about those pretty, blue eyes of his, but in the two years of knowing him, they had never been as pretty as they were in that moment, pretty blue eyes peering up at her.
Here he was, the man that she considered one of her closest friends in the city, literally giving his solitary life up to spend it with her. She wasn’t in love with him, not now at least, but those lingering feelings of hers tried to once again force their way back into her heart.
And this time, at the worst time possible, she let them.
With a small but giddy grin, she nodded and placed her hand on his cheek. “Yes, Bucky, I’ll marry you.”
He let out a long sigh at her approval, but the applause and cheers directed at him continued to make his heart race. Bucky slipped the ring onto her finger clumsily, his breath starting to become more labored as the cheers of “kiss” got louder. Y/N noticed his harsh breathing, and as she pulled him into an enveloping embrace she could feel the rapid beating of his heart the thin dress shirt he wore. “Can we go, Y/N?”
His whispered voice quivered, as if he were to break at any moment. “Of course, Bucky, I’ll go say goodbye and you can start heading to the car.” Grip on her waist tightened as she heard him grind his teeth.
“Please stay with me.”
Of course I’ll stay with you. “Always.” The cheers had not stopped, their voices still ringing strong throughout the restaurant. With no hesitation, Y/N planted a kiss on his cheek, hopefully ridding themselves of the large crowd they had garnered. Her parents looked confused, both of their eyebrows raised at the couple who still had yet to do anything besides hug at their engagement. “Mom, dad, Bucky and I are gonna go home to… celebrate by ourselves.”
Both of them heated up. “Just leave, we’ll take care of the bill. Your father will send you information for the fund over the weekend.” Mrs. L/N eyed both of them skeptically before saying, “Congratulations, Y/N.”
As soon as they got outside Bucky’s knees buckled, Y/N rubbing his back to try and console his breathing. His mind had grown hazy with wild thoughts, the crowd, the proposal, Y/N’s fucking perfume, it was all too much.
It was crawling underneath a truck in the boiling sun, Sam screaming for him, the first blossom of pain and staring down at his left arm, bloodied and detached from his body. It was screaming at his little sister to leave when she brought him groceries, ripping up Steve’s letters from Iraq. It was hours upon hours sitting in medical beds, sitting on couches, staring at the ceiling while doctors attempted to get him to open up. It was panicking at the bakery when someone eyed his prosthetic for too long and women leaving dates with him at the diner on 5th street after he failed to tell them all the gory details about how he lost his arm when they persistently asked. It was every moment he had looked at Y/N, all smiles and kind eyes, and wishing for once that he could not be a fucking coward and ask her out.
“I’m sorry.” The woman whispered. She now kneeled next to him, her right arm tracing shapes on his back, the light scrape of her nails bringing him to somewhat of a peace.
“I don’t need your pity, Y/N.” The second it left his lips he regretted it, waiting for her to leave him alone. They all did eventually. But Y/N sat there, patiently, with a small tilt to her red-painted lips.
“I’m not pitying you, Bucky. You’re one of the strongest and bravest people I know, and I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”
“I just can’t believe I relapsed.” He let out a humorless laugh, his chin coming to rest in his palm. “I thought I was doing well, I always feel okay at the bakery, but I guess that the restaurant was too much. Haven’t been to one in at least a year.”
“It’s completely okay to have panic attacks and to relapse, okay, Bucky? Don’t beat yourself up about it, honey.” Kicking her high heels off, she brought herself down to his level, both of them sitting on the sidewalk as people passed them by. Though they were in New York, the city that never sleeps, she strangely felt calm. People didn’t even turn their heads at the two well-dressed people sitting on the ground. “I would’ve proposed to you, you know.”
“You propose to me? That’ isn't very traditional,” Bucky said with a breathy chuckle.
“To be fair, is any of this?” His grin was starting to grow back, and he squeezed her hand and looked out into the crowded street of the night.
“No, I suppose it isn’t.”
TAGLIST
@aiofheavenandhell @barnesjamcs @kitkatd7 @adorkably @marvelnaturalock
AKYIL TAGLIST
@aiofheavenandhell @barnesjamcs @kitkatd7 @captainscanadian @93generation @drunkbucky @thebadassbitchqueen @asonofpeter @cosmicbreathe @adorkably @awesomeannanumber1 @blubberingmess @every-marveler-ever @supraveng @delicatecapnerd @bitchwhytho @peace-love-hobbitness @learisa @marvelnaturalock
#buckybarnes#james buchanan barnes#James Buchanan Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky fanfic#marvel#marvel fanfiction#james barnes#Sebastian Stan#sebastianstan#sebstan#sebastian x reader#sebastian stan x reader#reader insert#Self Insert#fanfic#fanfiction#fanfcition#all you knead is love#cbc1kwc#mcu#baker!bucky#bakery au#ceo!reader#au#fic. aykil four#𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞
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Bucky’s Bakery
Summary: Baking Christmas cookies, Bucky burns his fingers are you realize his arm is capable of much more than you thought.
Warnings: SMUT, Reluctance, please do not read if this offends you.
Words: 2K
A/N: This is my first fic since my hiatus, hope I’m not too rusty!
“You’re like a machine.” Bucky leaned against the counter, folding his arms. “How much dough have you made?”
“It’s the holidays.” You measured out some vanilla. “Nobody has ever mentioned the phrase too-many-Christmas-cookies before.”
“Well you’re bordering on it Doll.” Bucky reached over and snagged one of your finished cookies.
“Not a Doll.” You smacked his hand, hating when Bucky used the nickname he called every girl.
“Right.” He popped the treat in his mouth. “Sorry.”
You went to lecture him, ready to remind him that you were as much a part of the team as anyone else and deserved to be called by your name. But his face wore that puppy dog look he made so endearing.
“I’m sure you have more important things to do than watch me bake.” You swallowed and looked away.
“Don’t do that.” Bucky reached out and touched your shoulder, it sent a shiver down your spine. You turned to look at him, against your better judgment. “I want to help you. In fact, I want to spend as much time with you as possible. If it were up to me, I’d never have to leave you.”
The lump in your throat reformed, and this time you didn’t have enough moisture to swallow it away. You’d had the feeling Bucky was into you for months now, but you were so busy you never really thought about it too long. He was laying everything out. How did you feel? Your heart fluttered, not sure.
DING! You jumped and Bucky’s arm fell. You brought your hand to your chest and let out a laugh, the tension running out. The awkward situation saved by the bell.
“Well if you’re going to hang out, help out.” You gave a pressed smile. “Will you take the cookies out of the oven.”
“Right.” Bucky licked his lips as he moved his head to the side.
You felt a tad guilty, but he yanked down the oven door and stuck his hand inside.
“WAIT!” Your heart jumped as he grabbed the tray. “YOU NEED AN OVEN MIT!”
Bucky lifted the batch and turned to look at you as he steadied the cookies. Your eyes dropped to his metal hand and you felt relief as you shook your head.
“I forgot.” Now you felt silly. “That scared me. I was picturing a trip to the burn unit over Christmas cookies.”
“That’s why it’s you.” Bucky set the tray on the stove as he kicked the door to the oven shut. “That’s why it’s always you. You forget, you don’t see a wounded solider, an advanced killing machine, you just see me.”
“Bucky, I….” Your heart was racing as you struggled with a response. “We work together…”
“You’re right.” His flesh hand reached out and wrapped around your waist, pulling you tight to his chest. You brought your hands up and pushed away, but the grip was too tight.
“We can’t.” You looked him in the eye. “ It would never work out.”
“Not about that.” His metal hand cupped your face, still warm from the oven.
You grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away, knowing he was allowing it more than you using your strength. You glanced at his palm, even with the metal you were shocked that there was not any injury from grabbing a three-hundred-and-fifty degree sheet.
“It’s capable of much more than grabbing cookies from an oven.” Bucky pressed his forehead to yours, redirecting your gazed. “Let me show you.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but his lips crashed into yours, already parted for his tongue to slide in. You let out a squeak and tried to move back but he held you and deepened the kiss. Your head started to go fuzzy as you fell forward, not meaning to put your weight on him. The movement was met with a growl from his lips as he held you tighter and coaxed your mouth into action.
For a moment you forgot about anything but him, this kiss. How right it felt. And you responded. A warmth growing between your thighs as you spread your legs. As good as this felt, as much as you wanted it there was a nagging in the back of your head.
“Mmph.” You twisted your head. Bucky used the opportunity to kiss down to your neck, spinning you so your back was to him and hands were on the counter. “Stop. This isn’t a good idea.”
You spoke the words, but your head tilted to the side to give him better access.
“You were made for me Doll.” Bucky bit at your neck.
The movement of his teeth didn’t snap you back to reality as much as the stupid nickname did. You tried to slide down the counter, out from under him, knocking your baking supplies to the floor in the process. The sound made him back away.
“I’m not a Doll.” Anger started to rise.
“I know.” Bucky slammed his metal hand down on the other side of you and pushed himself against your back so that your hips went into the counter, caging you in.
“This isn’t funny.” You tried to move in any direction, but you were trapped. “I don’t know how they did it in the 40s, but back away.”
“You’re not a Doll.” Bucky’s breath was on your neck, your heart raced as his lips went to your ear. “You’re MY Doll.”
A gasp left your lips as your knees started to give out. His arm circled you, supporting your weight.
“What?” You gripped the counter as your head fell back against his shoulder. “But…you call everyone Doll.”
“Not since I found my Doll.” Bucky’s lips met your neck as he pressed into you, thrusting your body hard enough into the counter you winced. “The way you see me. I see you the same. Who you really are, how you try to hide yourself away. Staying as busy as possible. Doing useless tasks.”
“The cookies?” Your mind was still struggling with what he was saying.
Bucky stuck his arm out and swiped the counter clean, sending at least fifty cookies to the floor. Before you could protest hands were on your hips, lifting and twisting you so you were sitting facing him. The movement shook you enough that you put your hands on his shoulders.
“Screw the cookies Doll.” His fingers went to your waist and he yanked your pants down with your panties in one swoop. “I bet you taste much sweeter.”
Your breath caught as his head lowered. Your hands went to his hair, you debated on pushing him away, but then his tongue ran up your slit. Your head fell back as you gasped, no longer caring about the cookies on the floor or whether this was right.
“Bucky…” You fisted his locks. “Fuck.”
“Not yet.” He looked up at you, his blue eyes looking dangerous. “So much to explore first.”
He didn’t look away as his tongue met your tender bud. He flicked it up and down, teasing you into life. The hunger on his eyes didn’t fade as he brought his lips down, sucking you between them. It made you gasp and you realized you were not pushing his head away. No, instead you were pulling it closer.
Bucky didn’t break eye contact as he lifted your legs to his shoulders, your feet resting on his back. The sight of him with you in his mouth was almost hotter than the way he was making your body react.
Then you felt him, cold metal teasing your entrance. It made your eyes bulge and thighs twitch. A moan escaped your lips and you lifted your ass off the counter, eager for him to slide inside.
When he did you shut your eyes and gasped, the attention on your clit growing more detailed as his mouth pulsed against you.
“What?” Your eyes snapped open as you felt the vibrations.
Bucky pulled his mouth away, taking you with him before the suction left. You winced at his absence, but the movement inside of you was distracting from the need.
“I told you. Capable of so much more.” You looked down, half expecting to see a toy, but instead it was Bucky’s hand, the vibranium fingers coming to life inside of you.
“Fuck.” Your chest started to heave.
“Patience Doll.” Bucky’s mouth went back to your bundle of nerves.
“Ahhh!” You struggled for breath as his mouth and finger started to work in tandem. “This is…I….wha…ho…”
You couldn’t form a complete thought let alone sentence as he buzzed inside of you and his mouth worked it’s magic.
The tightening came fast. You felt all of your energy pooling at your center. Your hips rocked against him as the coil formed.
“I’m…gon…cu..” The thought didn’t fully form before your head fell back at you let out an earth-shattering moan.
Bucky didn’t slow as you spasmed around him. Muscles you didn’t even know you had came to life as your body convulsed with ecstasy. You fell back onto the counter, starring at the ceiling while your world spun.
How could you feel this good? Was it even possible?
Your breathing started to steady when Bucky’s head lifted. You heard the sound of his pants coming undone and looked up. There was no time for a view before he was on top of you. But damn, you felt him. Every inch as he slid into your soaked cunt.
“You taste way better than the cookies.” Bucky licked his glistening lips and you about came again.
Before any noise left your mouth his mouth was on yours again. This time you didn’t hesitate, running your fingers over his hair as you pulled him closer, welcoming his touch.
His cock bottomed out and he stilled inside of you. You rocked against him, eager for him to thrust but he remained static, more interested in kissing than fucking.
“Mmm.” You made a begging noise into his mouth.
Bucky lifted his head and looked down at you, his blue eyes a flame.
“Please?” You continued to roll your body.
“Please What?” Bucky bit his lip.
“Please fuck me!” Your grabbed his shoulders and dug your fingers into them. “Please!”
“Who are you?” His blue eyes narrowed.
“What?” You didn’t understand, but you kept wiggling under him, wanting to feel the full force of him.
“Who. Are. You?” Bucky pressed his pelvis down, making you whine since your movement was now restricted further.
There was an answer. He wanted one. You tried to break between your pants and think. Willing to be whoever he wanted at the moment.
“Your Doll.” The answer came to your lips before your brain even processed it.
“That’s right.” Bucky slid out and you moaned with anticipation. “MY Doll.”
He pumped inside of you, forcing a moan from your body. You wrapped your legs around him as he started to rail into you. Each of his pumps sending more pleasure than the last.
“Never forget it.” Bucky grunted. “Mine. All mine.”
“Yes.” You ran your nails down his back. “All yours.”
Your bodies started to move in unison and the tightness came again. When you reached the point you would normally spiral it went tighter and tighter. Every bit of energy your body could muster gathered.
Mewls and pants left your mouth as you were no longer capable of speaking. It felt like there was nothing in the world. Only Bucky. Only your pleasure.
The edge neared and you flung yourself off. Jolts of electricity ran through your veins as you exploded underneath him. A mess of noises and movements. Euphoria hit and it almost felt like you were floating.
Bucky let out a grunt as he slammed inside of you one last time, joining you in the orgasm. He coated your insides as he collapsed on top of you. Both of you struggling for breath.
It took some time for you both to come off your high. Bucky pulled out and rolled over, probably smooshing some cookies in the process. His arm reached out and pulled you close, your head on his chest.
“I’ve wanted this for so long.” He kissed the top of your head.
“I’m not on the pill.” That was the first thought you had as you felt him drip down your leg.
Bucky’s hand went between your thighs. He coated his fingers in his cum while he looked at you, sliding them back inside your quivering pussy.
“Good.”
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The Perfect Man (Bucky Barnes x Reader)
A/N: This... this probably isnt my best work. I lost my job this morning. I’m feeling like shit. I started to worry about everything and it’s been a bad fucking day. Feel lonely and lost so pls just pray for ya girl xoxo
This I started to write and didnt stop.I just typed and typed. I didnt even know what I was writing, it probably makes no sense.
I hope you do enjoy - Sorry for the mistakes and confusion bc ya girl is ready to cry herself to sleep xoxo
(Side note - I’ve now got time to write lmao)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Fandom: MCU/Marvel
Summary: Reader has a bad day and Bucky fixes it.
Warnings: Brief mentions of Anxiety, some angst. But also fluff xoxo
Word count: 1600
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Everyone has bad days, they’re inevitable. Days where you want to curl up in a ball and cry, listen to that sad song playlist on Spotify and ignore the world. Ignore everything around you, quiet down the stress and anxiety that’s going on in your head, and try, try, to relax. It never happens though.
Instead life comes at you at 120mph, you’re constantly working towards deadlines constantly working towards trying to get the job done, and never leaving any time for yourself.
When you had days like this, Bucky knew. He could sense it in the way you messaged him. From the moment you replied to his good morning text (because god forbid you be up at the hour that man is), and although he’s always acting like a grandpa with technology, the way your own nana does, he understood it, but maybe a bit better.
He could sense the lack of enthusiasm in your text messages, the way you used your words were different than usual. Bucky knew you had days like this, everyone has days like this. Bucky sometimes has days like this. But the difference between the two is, Bucky has access to a therapist whenever he likes, Bucky went through something traumatic, his whole life being a trauma. Instead now, you’re his happy place. The place where he feels safe, where his mind can relax, where he feels at ease.
Luckily for you, you were the same. You knew that the only thing better than curled up in a ball crying, listening to sad music would be if Bucky were to hold you in his arms. Doing this could keep the tears at bay, but that heavy feeling sat on your chest, it could be ever so slietly lifted while curled up against Bucky, and then you know as the day goes on, the night goes on, it’s like that heavy lift is completely gone just by him being there, by him making you happy, keeping you safe.
Today was a bad day, Bucky knew it, the same way he always did. Although it was rare for you in comparison to him, he still caught on quickly.
He left for his run at 4am with Steve and Sam, got back in at half 6. He sent you a message, and usually you were halfway through rushing and getting ready for work. Being an elementary teacher meant you had to be at school for 7 or half 7 most days to feel organized.
That meant waking up at about half 5 or 6am, meaning while on your way to work, you could have a quick chat with Bucky before teaching 30 little rascals, all of which held a special place in your heart no matter how stressful the day could be.
But this morning, he knew something was up, you usually replied within about 5 minutes, it was routine for the two of you, as soon as he got out of the shower, he would call you, and you would be with your coffee, ready to go.
But he finally got a message long after his shower,
‘Running late, talk later’
The simplicity of the text was something he stared at, the compared it to other messages, Bucky was scared he had done something wrong, the night before he might’ve said an off-handed comment that annoyed you. But then he couldn’t think of anything, you always put a small emoji at the end of your messages, or at the end of conversations, which this definitely was. Or when you’ve ran late in the past, it’s been a voice note, or something else.
He had a funny feeling, and he knew today, despite it being Friday, would be a long day for you.
He knew you would be home for about 5pm, so he had until then to make sure everything would be perfect, everything would be exactly as you want it to make you feel safe and happy, and to help you through a day that would essentially be the worst.
The two of you had been in a relationship for a while now, long enough for him to often stay at your apartment, or for him to be comfortable enough there by himself.
He started of making sure he had all the ingredients for your favorite food, it was a must, he also made sure that he had some flowers, chocolates, and a few of your other favorite treats there as well, which may or may not be a bottle of wine.
He set the presents aside before getting started on everything else. Your apartment was already so tidy so he didn’t need to make many changes, instead he set up a little fort, something that he used to do with his sisters. Building forts out of whatever they could find.
He added a few fairy lights and had bought some scented candles that had already been lit around the room. He also added a few face masks that he would be hoping to use tonight.
After organizing everything he moved onto the cooking. When his mama raised him alongside his sisters, he knew the basics of cooking way back when, but now it was entirely different. Now he had Sam teaching him the same way his own mom used to. Sam gave him spice and flavor, what works and what doesn’t for so many meals. He made sure to incorporate all of this now.
It had been a strangely long day, one full of anticipation, hoping he hadn’t over stepped, he got Sam to grab some cupcakes from your favorite bakery, setting them aside with the rest of your gifts.
He made sure that he looked presentable for the time you were due to arrive home, not forgetting the bath salts and candles in the bathroom ready for your arrival.
Bucky heard the click in the door and his heart rate went right up, he saw you enter. He saw how tired you looked from your face, the bags that meant your sleep wasn’t as good as it could’ve been, and maybe your day. He saw the usual light that surrounded you dimmed down, despite Bucky Believing you look at beautiful as ever, he knew that today had been a mentally rough day.
Your bags dropped when you entered the apartment, gasping as you looked around. You could smell the fresh warm candles, the strong smell of food, everything felt like home, what you just wanted to come home to, all day and every day.
You eyes landed on Bucky stood there looking nervous, he was wearing the comfiest clothes imaginable, gray sweats, and a fitted t-shirt. It made your heart melt as tears started to stream down your face. Overwhelmed with the love he showed for you.
“Bucky” you whimpered, you had felt bad in the morning, when you had less than 10 minutes to get ready, and you sent Bucky an incredibly blunt message. You had felt bad all day, but it had been such a difficult day for you to get through. But looking at this man in front of you, he knew you too well.
“What’s all this?” you whispered out through your tears,
“This… is to show you how much I love you Y/N. To show you that I love you just as much on the bad days, as I do good days. To show you that I will be by your side forever. That you don’t need to worry, and that I am here for you sweetheart. Always”
You couldn’t help the sobs as you cried into his chest. He held you and moved you to your bedroom, he held you and let you cry until you had gotten it all out of your system, you sat there red, tear stained face as he ran the bath for you, letting you choose your favorite bath crystals and bubbles you wanted to put in.
He sat and massaged your scalp, letting the stress of the day go by, giving you a glass of wine whilst in the tub.
Once you were dry, and in the comfiest clothes you own, Bucky carried you to the living room, the two of you sat in the fort he had built, and that you loved and sat eating your favorite meal,
“This is amazing Buck, I love it. I love you. Thank you so much” you whispered giving him a kiss,
The two of you were spending time in one another’s arms, watching films that made you laugh and cry, eating the food he made, the cakes he requested. You knew Bucky was the man for you.
“Sorry about this morning” you murmured, your head resting on his chest,
Bucky shook his head, “Don’t worry about it sweetheart. I know what it’s like. You’re allowed to be like that, I just hope that I can somehow make you feel better”
“I feel like the happiest person on the planet. I… was having a bad day, to them realize that my incredible man, spent the day making sure I had the best evening possible. Thank you, Buck,”
“Anytime sweetheart. I just hope you know that you are always safe with me, no matter how you feel”
Bucky really was a man unlike any other. He held you, made you feel happy, safe, and got you giggling like the morning had never existed. Bucky took away your fears, he mellowed the anxiety, and lifted that heavy feeling on your chest, he made you light again, he made all your pointless worries disappear because being in the right frame of mind, and having the right company can make all the bad disappear.
A/N: Again sorry for how bad this is, it just it’s been a really bad day for me. I just don’t even know what I was writing I just ughhhhh I wanna cry and cry and cry xoxo
#Bucky Barnes X Reader#Bucky Barnes One shot#Bucky Barnes Imagine#Bucky Barnes Fic#Bucky Barnes#james buchanan barnes#the winter soldier x reader#The Winter Soldier#james bucky barnes#Bucky Barnes Angst#Bucky Barnes Fluff#James Barnes#Bucky Barnes Drabble#MCU#marvel cinematic universe#marvel one shot#marvel fic#Bucky x Reader#The Avengers
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