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ltbarnes · 1 year

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Anachronism Valentine’s Day Special

Summary: Your Bigfoot and Captain plan Valentine’s Day for the first time, cooped up into your shared home while everyone is free from work for the first time in forever. Winter delves into arts and crafts, and Steve wants to cook breakfast, but nothing really goes according to plan.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader x Steve Rogers

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: blood, minor injury, the beginnings of smut, reader’s boys being so sweet, Bucky being the worst sous-chef, a little bit of Stucky, self-deprecation

A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble! a sweet little thing for valentine’s day!! but no!!! as normally i couldn’t pace myself so here you have almost a full chapter. also, if you haven’t read the rest of the series i really recommend doing so if you find this very confusing. before i check out i order you to treat yourself tomorrow with something you love, no matter if you celebrate with loved ones or alone. happy valentine’s day <3

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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The alarm clock of the morning is the stinging pain of a paper cutting into your skin, slicing across your cheek until a thin stream of blood trickles down and smears onto your pillow.

All you can do is furrow your brows in confusion while blinking your eyes open, wincing while sitting up in the bed. There's blood on your finger as you swipe it across your face. What the hell?

It doesn't take long to find the source of your wound—a messily cut paper heart falls down from your pillow as you move. You know it's Winter's solely by the uneven shape of it. Steve would never be caught slacking when it comes to anything artsy, as you have learned many times over by now. He pouted for several hours on Christmas morning when a splatter of paint had ended up on the card he had written you.

Despite your bleeding cut, you find yourself giggling. It's cheesy and a little cliché, but the thought of Winter learning (or relearning, in reality) about Valentine's Day from some stupid movie brings such joy to your heart. Maybe Steve told him about it, or Sam. You hope it's not the latter. God knows what your big bear has gotten up to in that case.

It’s not something you have talked about with your boyfriends at all. Since you’ve never made a big thing about it before them you assumed it would be the same now. It just happened to coincide with a few days off for all of you. A calm day in was the plan you had set up in your head. Maybe cook something a little nicer for dinner, but that’s all.

The floor is equally cold as the temperature outside the comforter as the soles of your feet touch the hardwood, drawing goosebumps on your skin with each brush of air against your exposed arms. As small clouds of fog form with each of your breaths, you know Steve must have turned down the heat again. Damn him and his super soldier warmth. He is the most compassionate person there is, but also annoyingly forgetful of the fact that not everyone in this house burn up during the night.

Your whole body shudders while wrapping your arms around yourself. The sweater you usually steal from Winter lies discarded on the couch in the living room, you think, much to your dismay. Instead of taking out one of your own, you pad out of your bedroom with your teeth on the verge of chattering.

Soft sounds of a vintage jazz ballad stream from the kitchen, harmonizing with the clangs of pots and pans and sizzling.

"No. No! C'mon," Steve whines. "I just showed you what to use. Buck, honestly—"

Your chuckles are barely heard in the background of the small argument as you step inside the kitchen with a smile on your face. They don't even notice you, which is so extremely rare that you barely dare to breathe. Instead Steve sighs, taking away the wooden spoon Winter holds in his hand and replaces it with a spatula.

"Stir gently. Try to stop the eggs from sticking to the pan. It's supposed to be smooth and creamy, you know, like she wants them?"

"So bossy. Bunny likes all eggs. Doesn't matter much, Stevie," Winter answers with a pout, aggressively stabbing the pan with the spatula. Steve only shakes his head in answer while throwing his hands up in the air.

"I don't know why I bother," he mumbles under his breath. "Go find the necklace we bought her instead. I'm banning you from the kitchen."

In the same second, the blonde turns around to see you leaning against the doorway. His face falls, seeing the surprise breakfast now lacks the element of surprise. You can also see the confusion in his expression, because you've never managed to sneak up on either of them.

"Goddamn it," Steve sighs. "You were supposed to be sleeping!"

Winter turns around. He seems much less upset than the man next to him—instead his eyes rake over your newly woken figure.

"Good morning to you too. And it's a little late for that by now, don't you think?" You take a few steps forward, fuzzy socks gliding over the floor, while taking in the sweet smell of food. The ruined surprise does nothing to darken your mood—your men are making you Valentine’s Day breakfast. There's nothing more you can wish for.

The lighthearted atmosphere soon turns gloomy though, and you almost forget why until Winter grunts. He blows out a quick puff of air through his nose while striding up to you in two large steps, hand laid on your shoulder while the other tilts your face upwards.

"Hurt," he states, brushing the pad of his thumb over the bleeding cut. "What happened?"

You smile, rolling your eyes. "It's just a small cut."

"What. Happened?" he demands once again.

Winter is really protective of you. He has been since the start, but sometimes he's the cause of some discomfort because of his unnatural strength. Accidents are bound to happen, like the time he accidentally elbowed you in the nose while trying to punch Steve, or when he unknowingly pushed you off the bed in his sleep. He gets so upset each time he's the reason for them, and sometimes spends days doting on you until his guilt fades away. You don't want to ruin the mood by making him feel that way on Valentine's, of all days.

"Winter," you say, raising your eyebrows like you do each time you really want him to listen to your words. "I want you to know that this is not your fault before I explain, okay? No need to blame yourself."

"What's going on?" Steve asks, looking up from the pan for just a second.

"I accidentally cut myself on the paper heart Winter left on my pillow while I was sleeping. An accident." Your hands come up to Winter's shoulders, rubbing gently over the t-shirt.

His eyes instantly close, head tilting down in shame. Fuck.

"Hey, hey. What did I just tell you?" you say. "No blaming yourself."

"So stupid," Winter mutters. "Should never have—"

"No. I loved the heart. It was really, really sweet, and I loved it. I love you." Leaning up on your tiptoes, you press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Thank you, honey."

He only shakes his head in answer, despite the blush creeping up on his cheeks. Honestly, that might be the sweetest man alive. Who even cuts out hearts from red paper and leaves them on their partner's pillow anymore?

While he ponders over the situation, the flush reaching his ears too, Steve stands with his arms wrapped over his chest, a content smile on his face as he watches the two of you interact. As you gain eye contact with him over Winter's shoulder, you can't help but return the smile.

"Do I get one too, huh?" Steve says, unfurling his arms to lean back onto the counter. "What is it that you say? Kiss the cook?"

"Geez, lay it off with the flirting, Rogers," you answer while stepping aside, moving towards your blonde superhuman.

Three pecks are pressed to his pink lips as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in by your waist with a squeak of surprise from your lips. The sweetest giggle escapes in the process, alluring enough to make him forget about the eggs he was so meticulous about just a minute ago.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my loves," you whisper, leaning into his chest while turning your head slightly to the side so you can see Winter as well. Both of them will hear you despite your whisper, no matter how quiet you are.

"Happy Valentine's Day. Now go back. This was supposed to be a breakfast-in-bed situation," Steve says playfully, pinching your side before nudging you in the direction of the doorway.

"But I'm already up," you whine. "I'm hungry. I don't want to go."

Mr. Captain America has the nerve to raise his eyebrow on you, nodding in the direction he wants you to go. He turns his back away, focuses on the overwhelming amount of food he's preparing.

A huff of protest is all that sounds from you. Enough of an answer for him, it seems, because he's already figured out you won't go back to bed voluntarily.

"Buck, take our girl back to the bedroom, will you?" Steve says without even facing the two of you. You can almost hear the smirk on his face.

Instantly a look of dread falls upon your face, one of betrayal, as you turn towards Winter with a gasp. He's already smiling in mischief. Fuck this.

"No. No." You point an accusing finger his way. "Don't you dare."

Cautious steps are taken backwards while the giant stalks closer with each second, broad shoulders becoming more threatening while your neck cranes upwards to see his little smirk.

"Winter, no, no—"

His strong arms lift you up from the floor, maneuvering you over his shoulder until you're swaying upside down like so many times before. It's been a while though—Steve has this weird theory that it's unhealthy for you to be upside down as much as you were before when Winter wanted to carry you everywhere. And while it did make you overtly dizzy and slightly nauseous sometimes, you kind of miss it.

"This is kidnapping!" you yell to the best of your abilities. "Righteous Captain America, my ass! Outlaw!"

"Have fun, dear!" Steve's voice can be heard shouting from the kitchen, undoubtedly a chuckle of amusement on his lips. Fucker.

Winter's husky laughter rumbles as he walks towards the bedroom, vibrating through your body as it swings back and forth. He barely even reacts as you pinch his buttock. At least you got to touch it.

It's instantly cold when you enter the confines of your bedroom once more, so much that a full body shiver manages to wrack your limbs even while hanging over your boyfriend's shoulder.

"It's so cold, Winter," you whine. "Your poor girlfriend is going to freeze to death in here."

What you expected in answer was to be laid down on your shared bed. Instead even colder bathroom counter meets the back of your legs. Winter leaves his hands on your shoulders as you blink to rid yourself of the blur, fluttering your lashes until you can look at him clearly.

The previously playful smile has scooled itself into a concerned frown, blue eyes running over the cut along your cheek. You sigh. He can't let small things like these go.

"I am sorry. Did not mean to hurt," he says, looking into your eyes as if he's afraid you won't understand the size of his sorrow if he isn't. You open your mouth to protest once more, but he manages to interrupt before you can even form the first syllable. "No. Accept apology. No arguing."

"Of course I accept your apology. I just don't think it's necessary," you answer, lifting your hand while he leans into your palm. Thumb runs over his stubble, tracing the line of his jaw. "It wasn't even your fault. You couldn't know that a piece of paper would cut me while I was sleeping. And I'm entirely fine."

He gives you a single nod in defeat. Winter has at least partly learnt when to concede in arguments during the past year. Still stubborn as shit, but so are you. It's not fun when either of you refuse to talk to each other for hours on end because of some stupid fight.

Instead Winter reaches for the alcohol and cotton standing pushed into the corner of the counter, usually reserved for the blonde super soldier in the house for when he gets home from missions. For wounds much deeper than yours, in reality.

"Clean?" he asks, holding them up in front of you.

"Is that really necessary?"

"Yes. Stop doing that, uh—what it’s called?" He furrows his brows. "Making things small. Always do that."

"Minimizing?" you ask.

"Minimizing. Stop doing that and let me clean. Need you to be good. Valentine's Day."

With a soft giggle you concede, leaning back against the mirror behind you. Tough argument to argue against.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

"More."

Winter holds up another forkful of pasta against your mouth, trying to prod at your lips while you poorly hold in laughter.

"No. No, I'm so full," you say, pushing his hand away.

An overextended, but content, sigh sounds from your lips as you sink further down the chair, cuddling against the soft fabric of Winter's sweater. You're wearing a nice dress underneath it all, but at the end of the day these two don't care that much about what you're wearing. Comfort is always valued higher in this household.

"I think that might be the best meal I've had since ma's apple pie," Steve says, giving that same sigh while leaning back against his chair.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "That's not true, but thank you."

"So good, bunny. Always so good," Winter chimes in, fingers fiddling with your hair. Never not touching you, that one. "Kiss."

He leans forward, hand coming up to cup your cheek, puckering his lips. You can't help but laugh at him, joining in on Steve's warm chuckle, even while pressing your lips to his. Quick, affectionate pecks that radiate so much love your cheeks almost hurt from the giddy grinning.

You think you might be the luckiest woman in the world. Even if double the amount of love one normally gets is more than enough, these two men grant you five times as much. This is love enough to last three lifetimes.

“You look so beautiful,” Steve says, elbows now leaning on the table and gazing lovingly at your figure.

His eyes are focused on the necklace dangling over your collarbones, the one they went all the way to the big city to pick out. It’s a simple fir tree, a real delicate one, mostly because of the ones surrounding this house. The trees which signify the start of your relationship. And also because your love is supposed to be evergreen, but Steve barely managed to get that out through his embarrassment. You think it’s the sweetest thing ever.

“You flatter me too much,” you answer him, leaning your head on Winter’s shoulder. His right hand comes to intertwine with your left, fingers rubbing over the back of your hand.

“I could never. I know you love it.”

A more mature answer than poking your tongue out is not possible in this moment, it seems like. But Steve finds it endearing and words are soon forgotten all together as the candles flicker and silence falls upon the room. A comfortable one, safe as Winter’s hold on you and Steve’s loving gaze.

“I really love the necklace,” you whisper, fingers fiddling with the pendant. “I feel silly now for only making you guys dinner, it’s just that I didn’t think we would make a thing out of—“

Soft kisses to your neck cut off your apologetic rambling, silencing you with tongue running over your exposed skin and replacing it with a quiet moan.

Steve rises from his seat, closing the one-step gap to grasp your chin. He tilts your face upwards until you can meet his eyes, which craves you craning your neck completely. Tall bastard.

“We have talked about this, sweetheart. You remember that?” He raises an eyebrow, thumb pulling on your lower lip. All you can do is nod mindlessly as if you’re in a trance. “What you do is enough. This is already more than we can ask for. It’s not nothing. Right, Buck?”

The brunette running his lips over your skin, nuzzling into your neck, hums in agreement. Never much one for words, really. You understand the sentiment either way.

A particularly loud whine escapes your lips as Winter nibbles just underneath your ear, sending a full-body shiver through your limbs. Steve grins, running his thumb along your cheek.

“You’ve been so good to us. Think it’s time for us to repay you. ‘S only fair.”

You nod shamelessly, eyes halfway closed in pleasure. Before them, you never knew how much a tongue against your skin could bring such a reaction from you. You definitely know now.

“I want everything off, Bucky,” Steve orders. And in contrast to the beginning of your relationship, you know the demand is not only directed towards you anymore.

Fabric is discarded, thrown across the kitchen floor. The previous chill has disappeared and feverish heat instead adorn your cheeks. Lustful eyes rake over your body, yours over chiseled muscle covered by softness and metal, over the tight shirt straining against Steve’s chest.

As your hands come up to the back of your neck, clasping around the thin chain to remove the risk of hair tangling and expensive gifts being destroyed during the first night, rough fingers come to stop you.

“No,” Winter says. “Keep it.”

Your arms lower to your sides, back leaning against Winter’s chest and your breasts brushing against Steve’s clothed one. Cold metal splays across your stomach, pulling you into him as closely as humanly possible. It’s when Steve’s thumb brushes over your nipple that you concede entirely to their power.

“How did I get so goddamn lucky, huh?” Steve suddenly exclaims, interrupting the lustful silence that laid thick over the room.

And when he lifts his hand up, fingers splaying out over Winter’s cheek to pull him closer, you almost moan. Seeing their lips meet like this is still new. But if you allow yourself to predict the future, you don’t think that it’s something you will ever tire of.

“My sweet boy,” Steve says. You feel Winter shiver behind you, even as his hands steady himself on your shoulders.

Only a few seconds pass before Steve leans down to capture your lips, carrying the taste of Winter with him. His tongue soon pushes inside your mouth, slowly, giving no thought to asserting his dominance when it’s so clearly already there.

“And my sweet girl,” he whispers, muffled by your kiss.

Soft, pink lips divert from your mouth, trails down your neck until he reaches your collarbone. Hips are grabbed by two sets of hands, wrestling between each other for space. You think there is just enough space for both of them. Your body is the perfect size for their hands to trail over, for their arms to capture, for their cocks to claim.

"Steve not as good, no? I make you feel better,” Winter suddenly says, drawing a shocked chuckle from your lips. Steve does not share the same amusement.

"What did you say?" Steve raises his eyebrows, a competitive fire igniting in his eyes. But all Winter does is grin, because he knows what he just did.

He loves this—teasing, starting competitions even though he knows no one can lose and neither of them will win. The only real winner will always be you.

It shows clearly when Steve’s arms sneak under your thighs, hoisting you up into his hold with your legs wrapped around his waist. The bedroom is the new destination and Winter trails after with that smug smirk of his adorning his wonderful face.

You are perfect for your two sweet boys. Two needy ones, competitive, and sometimes on the verge of demanding. This day is a lot like every other. It seems like your men don’t really need a special day to show you how special you are.

You are the luckiest woman in the world.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

TAG: @cjand10 @enchantedbarnes @imyourbratzdoll @mattmurdussydestroya @wintasssoldier @inlovewithchrisevans

#marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #anachronism

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