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quillsandtypos · 1 year

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Pulling Punches

~4600 words of Bucky tickle fluff

Here’s your typical ‘reader pranks Bucky and he gets revenge’ story to tide you over while I balance my schedule, never-ending intrusive ideas, and the inability to focus on a WIP once I publicly state its existence !!!

Dedicated to every lovely person who’s sent an ask saying how much they love the Bucky fics 💜

Pairing: Bucky x female reader (platonic)

CWs: Minor mentions of violence. Sexism, but not really. Otherwise SFW.

THUMP.

“You’re pulling your punches.”

“Yeah. I don’t wanna fracture your skull.”

FWIP. WHACK.

“I can take it, Bucky.”

“Like hell you can.”

Thwack. WHUMP!

“I meant hit me, not floor me,” you grumbled, accepting Bucky’s offer of an outstretched hand to pull you back to your feet. He’d swept your ankles out when you focused a little too hard on the placement of his fist. “I’m not delicate.”

“I know you’re not,” he clapped you on the shoulder and released your hand. “You’re not invincible either.”

“Neither is Steve. You still hit him hard.”

“You’re not seriously having this conversation again,” Steve’s chuckling voice entered your field of sound. You crossed your arms and turned only your head to look between the two super-soldiers. They were tall, much taller than you, and for a second you realised how foolish it was to be asking them to train with you full-force, but you couldn’t back down now; they’d think you thought you were delicate. That you couldn’t handle a Bucky-Level threat in the field.

So you crossed your arms a little tighter, stood up a little straighter and huffed, “It’s insulting.” They laughed, which only spurred you on further. You scoffed and rolled your eyes before you walked away, and they didn’t stop you. This must’ve been the sixth time you asked with the same result: they refused to stop pulling their punches.

It stung to see the beginnings of their fight - their real fight - as you slung your bag over your shoulder and headed towards the door, knowing you’d never measure up. You’d analysed their fighting patterns, memorised the countless moves you’d clocked and blocked (because they let you block). Tactically, you were on their level. Powerfully - not so much.

Never had you outright said you were jealous of the serum, knowing full well how much it’d destroyed and remade their lives into something they wouldn’t call Worth It, though it was hard to feel like you belonged on a sparring mat with Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes. Hard to feel like you belonged on a team with them too.

Being one of the younger Avengers came with its advantages and disadvantages. You certainly had more energy than the likes of Tony or Clint, but the inescapable need to prove yourself at any turn chewed away at your self-confidence. You’d never discussed it with Peter even though he was still much younger than you. Considering he had the strength to block Bucky’s punch one-handed, it would be hard to imagine a world where he felt under-qualified.

No one ever treated you like you weren’t good enough to be on the team, though you had the aching feeling they’d never see you as a true opponent. You had a lifetime of training, of learning, of honed senses and skills, but you were human. Just human. Normal, un-enhanced, human.

As you swallowed your pride and stepped out of the shower after your training, you tried to not let it get to you. But their laughs... those damned laughs. The punches, how hard they sounded, how obviously powerful it was when serum-enhanced chest was struck by vibranium fist… Those stupid laughs.

Now with a free hour between getting ready and having some long, boring briefing with the Secretary of State, you decided to make a little breakfast to carry you through from the beginning of the meeting, until Tony started making it interesting with his inevitable arguing.

“Morning,” Nat nodded as you walked into the kitchen. You smiled pleasantly, but something was obviously bothering you, and she was a super-perceptive super-spy. “Woah, what’s with you today?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your fists are clenched,” Wanda pointed out with a lazy gesture to the balls of fingers at your side.

You relaxed them and sighed, “Bucky won’t actually fight me.” A quick spin towards the coffee machine hid the embarrassed blush that came to your cheeks for daring to complain about such a thing. Bracing for the impact of scolding, you slid the canister of coffee beans towards you to measure out into the grinder. The response nearly sent you back to the floor.

“Okay,” Wanda scoffed, letting her hand fall to the counter with a thud and a clinking of her silver bracelets and rings. “I’m not imagining things.” You whipped your head around.

“You noticed him pulling punches against me?”

“No, I noticed him not taking chances to beat me,” she said. You shared a look of indignation. “Who do these boys think they are?” Nat gave a snort of a laugh through her nose which prompted you both to look over at her.

“What?!” She held up her hands in defence. “I’m all for girl power, but you can’t seriously think it’s a good idea for them to fight you with their full potential.”

“It’s the principle, Nat!” You slammed the group head into the espresso machine and absent-mindedly pressed the start button. “They’re afraid of hurting us. They think we can’t take it. That we’re… delicate.”

“Yeah,” Wanda nodded with a frown, then shook her head in annoyance. “What is it, because we’re women?”

Nat gave her a look. “You’re like five foot six-”

“Five-seven, actually-”

“Rogers has six inches of height and what… eighty pounds of weight on you? And that’s not to mention the serum. And, that’s not to mention Barnes with a vibranium arm.”

Her argument made sense, but you’d been validated by Wanda. Your war path had been set.

“It’s the principle,” you repeated. “They think we can’t take a little pain. Hell, they’re even scared of hurting our feelings. Bucky barely corrects me when I’ve clearly screwed up,” you mumbled and turned back to the coffee, swearing under your breath when you realised you’d definitely overdrawn it and the shot you’d made was slightly burned. Just as you were about to dump it and start anew, you heard Steve and Bucky’s voices down the hallway. Faster than you could think of the ramifications, you‘d formulated a plan, turned back to the girls with a smirk, and said, “Watch. I’ll prove it.”

“Prove what?” The hesitance in Natasha’s voice was overpowered by her curiosity.

“I’m gonna make the worst coffee in the world. Let’s see if Bucky is honest about how bad it tastes.”

Natasha scoffed a laugh as you poured the milk into the jug and raised it to the steaming wand to burn it too. “This’ll end w-” was all you heard before the milk screamed to life under the pressure of the boiling air. It sounded atrocious. Perfectly atrocious, and the two men entered the room just as you were finishing it up. Hiding your smirk, you turned back with a big smile. “Oh, great! Bucky, you can be my test subject.”

“What for?”

“Well, these two have already had coffee,” you nodded to Nat and Wanda, and their mugs, as you poured the burnt and soured milk over the shot of watery, singed espresso. “Steve doesn’t drink the stuff, and I’ve been working on this new method of extracting the shot.” You made sure to flick the jug at the end to make it look beautiful. Almost like a leaf. With bright and hopeful eyes, you set it down in front of him. The corners of his mouth turned down, his eyebrows raised and he nodded in approval as he picked it up.

“Looks good.”

“Try it!” You gestured and bit your lip as a nice little touch. “The flavour should be a lot richer, somewhat earthier…” Earthy like scorched dirt, you thought. You all watched as Bucky took a sip of what you were sure would be the worst coffee you’d ever made. Wanda had to hide her smirk by taking a long draw from her own mug, but Bucky… the man had a damn impressive poker face.

For only a flicker of a second did you see the surprise hit his features. You’d made him coffee before, a few times, and it never would’ve tasted as bad as this. Therein lay the dilemma you so perfectly set: you were so excited for him to try… would he tell you the truth?

He pulled the mug away and swallowed, audibly clicking his tongue and breathing out as if he were examining the notes of blackberry and dark chocolate in the beans, instead of trying to hide his disgust. “You came up with this method yourself?” He asked, clearing his throat before sniffing the cup.

“Yeah,” you nodded and, as another extra touch, you fiddled with your fingers in his line of sight and leaned slightly more into the balls of your feet. Perhaps your next move was unfair, but you did it anyway - you let your face fall, just a tad, and you let concern flash across your features. “I-Is it okay?” You also let yourself stammer as you reached for the cup. “Sorry, if it’s bad I can just-”

“No!” Concern, real concern, crossed through his features he as raced to reassure you, “This… this is great,” he nodded. “It’s the best coffee you’ve ever made, in fact,” he nodded again, enthusiastically, and took another big sip. He coughed when he pulled it away, and said, “O-ho, it’s hot, sorry,” he cleared his throat again.

“Oh, I’m so glad you like it,” you grinned and let your ‘tense’ shoulders drop before turning back to the machine to make yourself a coffee. A good coffee. It was silent behind you for a few seconds, and you internally smirked at proving your point and wondering what in the hell kind of exchange of looks was occurring over your shoulder. There was no plant for Bucky to tip it into, not in the kitchen, so he’d have to finish it. Maybe he found a way to get rid of it, maybe he drank it, but by the time you turned around from making your own coffee his cup was empty. He thanked you with a polite smile before excusing himself to a physiotherapy appointment. Bucky, apparently, was allergic to meetings. He never came to them.

Once he and Steve were out of earshot, you and Wanda collapsed into victorious giggles. “Thahat was amazing,” you snickered, covering your mouth with your hand. “We told you, Nat!”

“Well played,” she said, a smirk toying at her lips.

“What was his face like?”

“Oh, very stoic,” Wanda said sarcastically. “Until you turned around and he covered his mouth to stop from retching.”

“Ooh,” you laughed, bringing your own cup to your lips and cringing, “I didn’t realise it was that bad. At least I proved my point.”

Nat stood, picking up her mug. “So what now?”

“Now…” You pondered, sipped, then swallowed. “We see how many days Barnes can drink my coffee before he fesses up.”

Okay, yeah, fine - it was maybe a little immature. Or, one could see it as a harmless prank. Perhaps a lesson in honesty, in constructive criticism for a teammate. However they chose to see it, Natasha and Wanda swore themselves to secrecy. Even though Nat was far more level-headed, and less emotionally-responsive than you and Wanda, she still saw the humour in it all. And, hey… girl power - anything that messed with the fellas, she was in for.

It was the very next morning that you got him again. He was caught unawares, wandered in all by himself, to find you sitting alone at the kitchen island eating some yogurt and granola. You practically leapt out of your seat when you saw him head for the coffee machine. “Let me!” You reached for the beans and he paused, keeping his hand on the canister with a slack-jawed hesitance.

He chuckled uncomfortably, “You don’t have to do that.”

“But you loved it!” You gave him that same, sweet grin. “And I liked making it for you. Please, sit down,” you shooed him. He sighed and let you take over, picking up a muffin from a container on the counter and munching on it while you worked.

The coffee looked just a beautiful as last time, sure to taste just as bad. To his credit, Bucky took the first sip while you were still in the room. You gave him the mercy of leaving him be after he’d done so, giving him the chance to dump it down the sink. It was a chance you were almost positive he’d taken.

You didn’t show him that mercy much over the next week or two - only enough times to ensure he wouldn‘t get suspicious. Given the way he’d sometimes protest, or he’d be sneaking into the kitchen, or he’d only rarely say he’d already had a coffee that day, you suspected he was also towing the line between not wanting to hurt your feelings, and not wanting to be trapped into drinking putrid sludge.

Wanda and Nat, or others, would sometimes be privy to these exchanges. The girls would hide their humoured giggles, and it seemed like Bucky was careful not to spread the rumours of his distaste for your coffee because the only person who seemed to understand that Bucky was hesitant, was Steve.

At this point, it had been two and a half weeks of this game and you were still fired up, so you started making it worse to try forcing his hand. Sometimes you’d slip a crack of pepper into the espresso shot, or a dash of lemon juice in to clash with the milk. Nothing dangerous, of course, and definitely nothing that would make him sick… just enough to make it taste horrendous.

After this upping of the ante, it only took four or five more days before he finally cracked.

“Morning, Buck,” you greeted sweetly, coffee in hand as you entered the living room. On your way to make a pre-workout protein shake, you’d spied him reading a report on the couch and started your routine of brewing him a steamy hot cup of Making a Point. “Thought you could use some coffee.”

You held it out to him. His eyes flashed with reluctance. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a sigh came out. After several moments, he accepted the cup and placed it on the large coffee table he’d just been resting his feet on. Then, he properly turned to address you where you stood behind the couch.

“Look, I appreciate you like making me coffee… but,” he sighed again and wiped his mouth and jaw with his large palm, “It’s re- uh, it’s not good.”

“Huh?”

“I‘m sorry. I don’t know what you’re doing to it, the special method, but it‘s not working.”

You blinked, stood still for several long seconds as Bucky lifted his gaze to offer you a kind and sympathetic smile. Not wanting to make this any harder for him, you plainly asked, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You were so excited about making me coffee! And it was nice of you, and didn’t want to-”

“Hurt my feelings?”

“Well, yeah because I-”

“Think I can’t take it?”

“No, it’s not that. I- …”

The self-satisfied smirk tugged at your lips before you had the chance to want to stop it. Bucky’s eyes narrowed in perplexity at your response, though he then seemed to understand… understand this whole thing. He lowered his brow, “Did you-”

“It’s insulting, Buck,” you sighed, that smirk growing wider, “how you always pull punches when it comes to me.”

“Uhuh, wai-wai-wait,” he held up a hand, scoffing and closing his eyes to control his frustration. “You’re telling me… this whole coffee situation was some sort of ploy to make a point?”

“Uh, yeah,” you folded your arms. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. And I made it quite well, may I add.”

Bucky was silent for several long moments, which unnerved you (which was probably the point), before he chuckled dryly and slipped out his tongue to wet his lips. “So you, uh... you don’t want me to go easy on you. That‘s what you’re trying to get from all this.”

You ducked your head to the side, weighing up the pros and cons. “I want you to treat me like a worthy opponent. Don’t let me win. Don’t pull punches. Don’t be afraid of hurting me. Especially not my feelings,” your voice lowered a bit on that last one, and Bucky’s face softened. “I can take it.”

He breathed out a laugh and a small smile came with his next question. “You’re sure you don’t want me to scale myself to your strength?”

You stood up a little straighter, understanding this would come with a lot of pain, but also a lot of value. How could you face a super soldier in the field if you weren’t allowed to face one in a controlled environment? You wanted this. Needed this.

“Yes. No more going easy on me.”

If you were going to wonder aloud why his features had turned devious, the chance was taken from you the second his metal hand shot out and his grip closed over where your forearms were crossed. Your instinctive step back didn’t help you, because Bucky had already yanked you forward, pulling you face-first over the back of the couch. A gasp escaped your lips as you landed haphazardly on the cushion beside him and he immediately started wrestling for your limbs.

“HEY!” You yelled, grunting amidst the fight he was wagering. Never before had you experienced the full strength of Bucky Barnes fighting against you, but the sinking feeling in your stomach told you that you may have just made a big mistake.

It was as if your fighting back was doing absolutely nothing against him. He manipulated you with ease, pulling your arms behind you and slotting his metal arm around your elbows to keep your upper arms firmly stuck against his chest. With a limited range of motion, you pounded your fist against his thigh, but he again felt nothing. Then, with a swift pull, he dragged you over his thigh to be sitting in between his legs. “What the hell?! We’re not even on the mats,” you winced as you gave your best tug. You barely budged an inch.

Bucky leaned forwards with you and used his free hand to grab the gross coffee you’d just made him. “Drink it,” he commanded, bringing it closer to your lips.

“No way,” you twitched your head away. “There’s powdered pepper in there,” you sniffled a giggle, pushing your head further away.

“There’s what now?”

The way his voice lost some warmth, some volume, some playfulness - it all made your stomach tighten just a little bit. At this point, you didn’t really know how he could make it worse. Despite his promise to stop going easy on you, you knew he’d never hurt you in retaliation to a harmless prank. He couldn’t force this down your throat without making a huge mess.

“Powdered. Pepper,” you repeated, painstakingly drawing out the way the words played against your lips. He grunted and tightened his grip around your arms, forcing your back to arch just that much more.

“You’re drinking this coffee.”

“Like hell I am,” you grimaced, fighting harder against him. “You can’t make me.”

He brought it closer again but you shut your mouth tight and turned your head away. “Drink.”

“No!”

“Drink it, you twerp!”

“I said NO!” You struggled against him harder, causing the cup to spill over a little bit onto the bare skin on your leg. “HEY!” It wasn’t that hot, because lukewarm coffee tasted worse, but you shook your leg to make sure it didn’t creep up and stain your elastic workout shorts. It rolled off the side and onto Bucky’s pants, which made him click his tongue and set the coffee back down on the table. With no rag in sight, he leaned you to the side and grabbed a fistful of your workout top, stretching it a bit to dab at where the coffee had spilled. “Rude!” You protested, launching your waist sideways and ripping the fabric from his fingers.

“You made me spill it and I’ve gotta clean it up!” He groaned as if this whole thing pained him. To be fair, it probably did.

“That’s my shirt, not a towel!” You winced and tried to wiggle away, but his fingers closed around the fabric - this time, accidentally closing around the lower part of your stomach with it. “Hehey, watch ihit.” You giggled and squirmed for a second until he’d taken only the fabric in his fist, but your cheeks went up in flames as the reality of what you’d just revealed came crashing down. Not wasting any time to question what he’d just discovered, Bucky released your shirt and began digging his fingers wide across the sides of your lower ribs. “No, no, NO- BUHUCK!” You immediately fell into sniffling giggles, writhing in his hold as his tickling fingers sought out the sensitive places on your side.

“Well, wha’do we have here?” He chuckled next to your ear. “Not so tough now, are you?”

“Cohome ohohon,” you shut your eyes and giggled harder, a small yelp escaping when he lost some of the pressure in his fingers and travelled them down towards the very centre of your stomach. “BUCK-EEHEE!” You spluttered and thrashed against him as he firmly scratched at the space below your bellybutton with all five fingers. “Plehease,” you sniffed as he backed off his hand and started shifting to hold you tighter.

“Please what?”

“Dohon’t tickle me.”

He suddenly loosened his grip around your arms and you let out your tense breath with a few relieved giggles. It was short lived, though, because in mere seconds he’d pushed you sideways and begun wrestling for your hands as your back pressed hard into the seat of the couch. “NO!” You growled and kicked at him.

“If I remember right,” Bucky scoffed as he finally caught your wrists and swung his leg over your middle, “You made it very clear I wasn’t allowed to go easy on you anymore.” He chuckled as your eyes widened, as he settled on top of you and pinned your wrists above your head, locking them between couch cushion and metal palm.

“Nuh-no,” you whispered loudly. Your head shook as your widened eyes watched where his free hand began to travel. “Buhucky,” you whined and resigned yourself. “Fine, I’ll drink the coff- I’LL DRIHINK IT!” You squeaked as his hand latched against your hip, threatening to take you apart at any second. You sniffled and squirmed, pouting up at him. Those stormy eyes of his showed no desire for mercy.

“Oh, you’ll drink it alright,” Bucky jibed. “Once you get yourself out of this, I’ll make sure you finish every last drop.”

“I cahan’t,” you knit your brows together in helplessness. “Buck, seriously. I can’t get out of this.” You yanked hard on your arms, finding his hold unrelenting. “I don’t stand a chance here. You’ve gotta let me up.”

“No no,” he tensed his hand at your hip. “You’ll be fine. You’re not delicate.”

With that, he began kneading his thumb into the soft space beside your hipbone. The overwhelming ticklish sensation immediately forced your eyes closed and your back arching away from the couch as you fought underneath the super soldier. As much as you tried to hold the frantic giggles in, they spluttered out in bursts over your lips.

“TSS-AHAHA!” You squeaked when he suddenly moved back up to dig his fingers into the fronts and sides of your ribcage. “BUUUCK!”

You did your best. You really did. But no matter which way you pulled your wrists, kicked your legs, or tried to throw him off with your hips, his hand stay firmly latched to your side.

“Come on, you can get out of this,” he goaded, walking his fingers up to poke rapidly underneath your arm. Your giggles took on a snickering breathlessness as you pulled harder on your attacked arm and turned your face in a futile effort to hide your blush.

“I-… IHI… cahan’t,” you rasped out, and he backed off to let you catch your breath. You gulped in the cool, conditioned air and shot him a menacing stare. “Come OHON!” You grunted and pulled, strained and tugged, but Bucky didn’t even flinch.

“Should we keep going?”

“I’m gonna get you for this,” you seethed.

His eyes darkened, his smirk fading. “This is me getting you for getting me. You really wanna start something new?” He poked under your arm again and you jumped. “Really?” Another poke, another tug on your arms. “Really?!”

“BUCK!”

“Lots of fighting words, not a lot of chops to back ’em up,” he called to you, setting his jaw before clawing his hand into the centre of your belly. The touch sent you erupting into laughter, then even more so when Bucky discovered it was far worse for you when he relented his harder touch in favour of firmly scratching and skittering his fingers at the sensitive skin hidden by your shirt. Now with his new method, he stopped listening every time you said his name. That is, until he tickled lightly under your arm and you practically jumped out of your skin.

You yelled through your laughter, “BUCK-BUCKY, NO! NAHA!” Your feet kicked hard behind him, desperately trying to do anything useful, but it was all in vain. The ticklish shockwaves coursed through your nerves and forced deep belly laughter up through your throat until the point where Bucky saw you were needing air again.

He waited patiently, with a very snarky and satisfied look on his face, as you came down from his attack and a tear or two spilled out the corners of your eyes. You coughed a few times and pulled on your hands without any more luck than any of the other times you’d tried to fight him off. He was too strong, and you knew that the only way you’d be freed is if he let you. The truth of it all, and the sheepishness you felt creeping in, sank to the pits of your stomach while you tried to figure out the best way to word your surrender.

“Still don’t want me to go easy on you?” He asked with a laugh in his voice. You glared, he returned it with a warning stare and a hand creeping back towards your ribs. “I’m happy to continue if-”

“No!” Damn the stupid squeak that came out. You cleared your throat and sighed. “No more. I can’t fight you,” you bit your lip and averted your eyes to the seam on the couch cushion, feeling embarrassed and useless beyond repair. “Just let me up, Buck. I won’t ask you to use your full strength on me again,” you mumbled.

Bucky released your wrists and swung his leg off you, sitting beside you as he pulled you up by your forearm and you folded a leg under yourself. Your eyes fixed to the floor, and the insecurity came crashing in. Then, his hand met your shoulder and pulled your attention towards his level stare.

“You’re one of the best fighters I know.” His voice was sincere, and without pity. “You shouldn’t feel bad that you can’t beat a super-soldier at full force.”

“B-But what if I encounter one in the field?” You winced and sighed again, shaking your head at your own inability. “I’d be a goner.”

“That‘s what you’ve got me for.”

“What, a protector?”

“A teammate.”

You smiled despite yourself, rolling your eyes at the underlying cheesiness of it all, still, grateful for his candour.

“We all bring something to the table. You’ve got your skills, your speed… you don’t need super-strength.”

You smiled shyly, blushing from the attention as he moved his hand from your shoulder to the back of your neck. “Thanks, Buck,” you whispered. “Sorry for… you know. All the coffee stuff.”

“You’re forgiven,” he said flatly, a half-smile etched into his lips.

You smiled back just as his grip at the base of your neck tightened playfully. He leaned over and picked up the cursed coffee cup.

“I’m still gonna make you drink this.”

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