Boom Clap
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader
Word Count: 1,063
Summary: Before tonight you wouldn't have been able to label your relationship with Bucky but after he gets home earlier than expected from a mission and shows up at the bar everything changes.
Author's Note: Just because, I love him and this look ends me every time and it's lightly based on this song Boom Clap by Charli XCX. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you 🥰
Warnings: it's just Bucky being irresistible and soft too
“Well, something clearly more interesting than this conversation is going on in your mind. Would you like to share it with the rest of us?”
Two pairs of glittering eyes stare at you, twin knowing smiles gracing your friend’s lips and you frantically try to recall what the three of you had been discussing.
“There’s only one thing that can be giving her that look,” Nat laughs. “A man.”
“And not just any,” Wanda adds.
“Bucky,” both women say simultaneously and with devious grins.
You sip your drink to hide your smile.
“You must miss him since he’s been away on the mission all week,” Wanda muses.
You don’t say it but you do miss him. A lot.
“So what exactly is going on with you two?” Nat asks
With a nonchalant shrug you sip your drink again and try to figure out how to label your relationship with Bucky. Your friends wait, expressions expectant but playful.
If you had a definitive answer you would share it but ever since the two of you started hanging out neither of you had given it a label. You were just enjoying each other. In every way. You were happy being with him, that much of which you were sure.
“Umm…” you start.
That’s the only word you get out before you see Wanda and Nat’s drinks pause halfway to their mouths. Their eyes are trained on something just beyond your shoulder, toward the entrance of the bar.
Several other women at the bar pause their own conversation and you sense the shift in energy.
He’s here.
You place your drink down on the bar and turn. Bucky stands just inside the doorway, his black jacket draped over his broad shoulders and his covetous blue eyes focused on you.
Awareness races across your skin coupled with a heat only he can set ablaze. Your pulse quickens and you fight the urge to run into his arms.
He wears all black, from his tight fitted shirt down to his leather boots and his strong jaw is shadowed with dark hair. When he walks toward you at the bar, he moves with such sensual purpose that you notice another woman swooning.
He looks hungry and determined.
And he’s here for you.
You reach out and grab your drink, downing it in one long sip.
Without removing his gaze from yours, he takes your hand and brings it to his lips, turning it over and kissing the inside of your wrist, then your palm, then finally, your fingertips.
This time, you hear the breath woosh from Nat and Wanda but Bucky shows no reaction, appearing oblivious to anything else but you.
“Guess he’s back,” Nat whispers to Wanda. You barely catch the words as Bucky consumes your every thought.
“I missed you doll,” he whispers against your wrist.
“I missed you too,” you reply breathlessly.
He lowers your hand from his mouth and keeps hold of it between your bodies. With a soft tug he brings you closer, leaning into your neck and whispering along the shell of your ear.
“Come home with me?”
“You don’t even have to ask,” you murmur.
“Yes, I do doll. I would never take you for granted.”
Your free hand slides up his chest to his jaw, tracing the outline before you softly press your lips to his. His eyes fluttered closed and he breathes you in.
“I’m just going to use the restroom and say goodbye to Nat and Wanda. Meet you back here in five.”
“Hurry,” he murmurs, letting his eyes sparkle with words of unspoken want.
You rush off toward the bathroom, Nat and Wanda right behind you and after relieving yourself and filling your friends in you search for Bucky’s tall figure.
You find him standing at the bar, taking to someone. As you get closer, you see that the woman is standing close enough to brush against him. Unable to see Bucky’s face, you watch as she runs a hand along his arm with a gentle squeeze of his bicep, smiling at him flirtatiously.
Your heart drops into your stomach and you feel your eyes well with unshed tears but you can’t stop your forward movement. Bucky’s face comes into view. His eyes aren’t on the woman but furiously scanning the room. He looks uncomfortable, backing away from her and saying something you can’t hear.
You consider turning and running out but that wouldn’t be fair. You and Bucky have no official label, have never agreed to be exclusive. You can’t even blame the other woman for approaching him. He’s impossible to resist. You should know.
But then his eyes meet yours and you see all the emotions rushing through them, but mostly you see relief.
Taking a deep breath, you continue to walk forward. Bucky holds his arm out, his eyes begging you to walk into his embrace.
You slide into his side in time to hear him say, “here she is. This is my…”
“Girlfriend,” you finish, smiling and extending your hand with your name. “Nice to meet you.”
“Wow, lucky girl,” the woman says as she shakes your hand. “You deserve an award for landing a man like this.”
“I don’t need an award. I’ve got him,” you say as you reach down and take his left hand in yours.
Your eyes meet Bucky’s. “Ready to take me home Buck?”
“Always doll.”
Your hand stays tightly tucked in Bucky’s as you walk down the street toward his apartment. You turn toward him, the warm breeze caressing your skin and the city lights dancing in your eyes. His breath catches in his throat as your lips spread into a wide and reassuring smile.
He stops walking in the middle of the sidewalk and pulls you flush against his chest, his eyes wandering over your face.
“Are you really mine?” he asks as he dips his head. “You’re really my girl?”
“Yours Bucky. I have been from the beginning.”
His fingers spread across your lower back and he slowly drags his hand along the curve of your spine, every inch he covers pressing you closer against him until he reaches your neck and traces the delicate column before cradling your cheek.
He sweeps his thumb along your skin and holds your lips just centimeters from his, whispering, “mine,” as his eyes close and his mouth captures yours.
@randomfandompenguin @hiddles-rose @goldylions @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @lizette50
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Welcome Home, Daddy
The aftermath of when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.
Summary: Bucky was over the moon when he discovered that Y/N was pregnant with his child. But, when the danger that lurks in dark threatened to steal his family away, a fellow soldier decided to come home.
Note: Highly recommend to read 《 Welcome Home... Soldat? 》 for backstory. But, you can also read this as a stand alone (though you might miss some call backs on the soldat's behaviour if you skip)
Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader
Words: 7.1k++ (bare with me, please)
Warnings: graphic violence, torture, blood, gore, deaths, dark undertones, sudden fluff, tiny bit of angst, google translated russian, and just so much detained anger exploding around, soldat is just deadly yet adorable in this one (i can't even handle it, and i'm the author), this event takes place far in the future after what happened in 《 Welcome Home...Soldat? 》
A/N: Looks like we have the winner for the poll 👀 Who's ready for our lovely soldat to make his appearance again? I know I'm not, but here we are. So, strap in and let's do this!
P/S: Also, I might as well make this as my submission for the seven writing event hosted by @nickfowlerrr 💌 Check out the event masterlist and support the writers by reading and reblogging their stories!
Read my other works here: Masterlist
They say the wrath of a fighter may threatened a heinous war but the wrath of a lover will let the earth drenched in bloody gore. And if a fool was daft enough to tore a lover from his other half, then they might just court themselves right into the hands of death.
And this couldn't be more true, especially if we consider the crime that the soldat was currently committing. Surely, the blood pooling on the floor will forever leave a grim mark that'll haunt the people who ever witness it.
"Where is she?" the soldat prompted the frail woman, limping on the chained chair. Despite the horrid situation, he sounded rather calm when he spoke.
How unfortunate it was for Elle to be associated with Hydra yet to also be so exposed to the dangers of the ghost himself, the Winter Soldier. Hydra may have their suspicion about the soldat making a move, but she didn't expect that she would be involved in the mess of this ordeal.
The cold metal of the soldat's vibranium fingers, particularly his index and thumb, latched themselves on another one of her nails. Her mouth slacked open but no sound was able to be formed when the soldat mercilessly ripped her nail right off her finger.
And oh, the pain was beyond any kind of injury that she had ever experienced, not a even a bullet through her flesh could be compared to this agony of a torture.
He harshly grabbed Elle by the back of her neck, forcing her to watch the blood leaking from the reddened flesh of her fingers, "I asked you a simple question, су́ка (bitch). Where the fuck is she?" The soldat's patience had been running thin and rage had clouded his judgements.
He needed to find her. His precious Родная (darling).
No matter whose neck he needed to slay or whose blood that have to be shed dry. He had to bring his darling home; no matter what it takes.
Unfortunately, it had been almost a month since he lost her.
And no one saw it coming.
Who would've thought that the old Hydra compound that the team raided were meant to be a part of a plan to weaken the Avengers. It was just a distraction filled with unexpected traps and triggers. By the time they flew home, the team were already tired and injured as the result of the raid.
So imagine the desperate struggle and utter panic that Bucky had to go through the moment he stepped his foot into the comfort of their home and had to witness Y/N's exhausted figure fighting for her life.
Hers and the baby's inside.
After hitting the 2 months mark of pregnancy, Bucky decided that Y/N shouldn't be involved in any high stake mission anymore. At first, she only laughed to his statement, thinking he was surely joking but when his stern expression didn't flatter, that was when she reliazed Bucky was not open for negotiation.
Y/N knew it was way too early to settle into her maternal leave but after having a long conversation with Bucky, they both agreed to keep her missions strictly on low-risk stakeouts and desk works at the tower.
It was supposedly be some kind of a precaution for her, to keep her and the baby safe, away from any type harm that might come their way. But, that certainly back fired.
When Bucky's burning anger had pumped him full with high stream of adrenaline, it was as if he went into an auto pilot; a murderous one at that. And soon enough he managed to take down half of Hydra's best agents that joined the mission of collecting Y/N from the tower.
For a moment, it seemed like luck was on their side, at least it felt like it.
It lasted only until Bucky saw how harsh the kick of the enemy landed on Y/N's hip, and how she managed to shield her stomach seconds before her body slammed down to the ground.
That was when fear crawled into his pumping nerves and the roots of it ran extremely cold.
And that was all it takes for Hydra to distract Bucky then immobilize him on the spot with a replica of the Sonic Taser developed by Stark Industries a few years back.
Bucky grunted painfully in protest of the high pitched sonic frequency from the device that overloads his nervous system. His body couldn't help but to slowly paralyzed its movements as his skin turned pale and the strain in his blood vessels became visible.
On the opposite side, Y/N could be seen being forcefully dragged away by a few of the Hydra agents that was left. There were couple of nasty injuries torn all over her body yet she was still stubborn on fighting back.
While she was being pulled farther away from him, she shouted his name loud and desprete, "Bucky!" Hot tears broke from the corner of her eyes as she desperately reach out her hand.
It felt as if she was right there when Bucky's hand was reaching back towards her. Like, a little bit of a push would've been enough to catch her but alas fate was not planning to be merciful.
Bucky's menancing eyes never left her wavering ones as Hydra tortured Bucky by stealing a part of his soul from him; and no one really knew how his heart clenched and torn to the fact that he was helplessly useless when Y/N needed him the most.
And when he only managed to scream back Y/N's name, he was forced to watch her wailed as she was unwillingly being taken away.
The moment when Bucky drowned himself in regret and rage, that was when the Winter Soldier took over his consciousness.
Unfortunately for the soldat, his mortal body was already worn out from all the intense fight that happened prior; he was knocked out right after he took over the body.
But in those few seconds before the darkness consumed him, the soldat managed to catch a glimpse of his darling. He saw the image of her; teary and bruised in the hands of those who created him. The very same monsters who uses him for despicable things.
That was all that he needed to see in order to break those chains around the dark pandora residing deep within his being.
The team was absolutely not ready to deal with the soldat again, this time without Y/N to tame him. Especially when his demands were unrealistic for them to fulfill.
It's been nearly 3 weeks since the incident and they had failed to locate Y/N; repeatedly. Even if they did manage to get some kind of an intel, all the of bases they had raided were basically bunch of abandoned spaces that Hydra used to occupy.
So of course the soldat was agitated. He had every right to be, more so when he thought of the increasing risk of his darling getting hurt in the hands of Hydra. And at this point, those scumbags were just messing with their minds. Especially with his.
"Listen, we're doing our best here, soldat." Steve tried to reason with him but it only fueled the burning flames within the soldat, "ты делаешь недостаточно! (You're not doing enough!)" He spat harshly that he didn't even noticed that he uses Russian language. It seemed like the unkempt irritation had conquered the chaos of his mind.
So that very night, the soldat decided to do this on his own; thus he ran away from the tower in search for his darling. He had to. Especially when he knew precisely why the Avenger was not able to find Y/N as quickly as they should be.
It was because they were the good guys. They were the heros, they were the light. And the soldat was not. In fact, he was the very opposite.
Unlike the Avengers, the soldat was not planning to play nice and soon enough he managed to find a lead.
Which bring us to this very moment in which he successfully snuck into a Hydra agent's home to interrogate her.
But, in contrast of those Hydra troops that attack the Avengers Tower a few weeks ago, Elle was not even involved in the mission of retrieving Y/N. She was actually on a solo mission to infiltrate a certain high school to collect informations on Peter Parker. Hydra suspected that he might be involved with the new hero appearing in Queens.
However, even if she was not a part of the team mission, she knew bits and pieces of the overall plan, especially the whereabout of the main character herself, Y/N.
However, the appearance of the Winter Soldier in her temporary house was completely unexpected.
It felt like it was just few moments ago that the intel on Y/N's location reached her ears. Then, she distinctly remember the glimpse of those murderous eyes glaring into her soul. Next thing she knew was everything went pitch black.
Even if it was temporary, however it felt so surreal.
The darkness surrounding her.
The bone rattling cold.
It felt like death itself.
But unfortunately for her, the soldat was far from stopping.
Elle was fraying at the edges while the soldat crouch to her level. Even if she could barely reconstruct the unclear and blurry images through her dazed eyes, however, that didn't stop the soldat from maiming the dying woman's soul through his unforgiving gaze.
"Wake up..." he growled as he yanked her face upwards, "...we're not done yet."
It took a while for Elle to finally adjust to the light, after being in the dark for – how she felt like – so long.
After the light hits her vision, the striking pain came next. The pulsing pain surrounding of her right eye, her broken nose, her busted lips, her bleeding skin; neck, chest, arms, and almost every part of her limbs.
Everything were – slowly but surely, in each cuts and bruises on her skin – blooming its pain into existence.
How can she skipped all of this when she lost her consciousness?
Perhaps that was how she managed to stay alive as long as she had. By running away from the misery; from her reality.
Elle whined in pain but her voice suggested that she might already torn her throat apart when it sounded more like a broken grunt. Her disoriented gaze fell into her aching fingers, each were missing its nail; the tips of them was where the icky blood trickled from and had shaped a pool of blood on the floor where she rested.
The dim lighting from the room reflected on the surface of the deep-red puddle, revealing the resemblance of it to a mirror. And the blurry image looking back, was the soldat, with a sinister expression on his face.
This game, that they're playing.
It hardly seems fair to one of them. To be tortured if not speaking the truth? That's simply unjust; but if we're talking about fairness, then none of those injuries could ever be compared to the pain Y/N might be going through at this very moment. Every second of Elle's useless stubbornness was costing Y/N's safety.
And the soldat didn't like that. Not one bit.
"You mentioned Spain? Where exactly?" In one swift, harsh motion, the soldat thrust his knife through her thighs, "FUCK!"
The loud scream of pain that tore from Elle's throat was probably the last coherent word that she uttered as the torture continued.
The soldat pulled the knife out and stabbing it into the open wound, he listened to Elle's gasp for a moment, relishing her breathless pleading and the tears now openly streaming down her face.
He stabbed again, twice, each was quick and deep, not caring about the blood that spurted out across his face.
At this point Elle was just a puddle of blabbering mess; streams of saliva pouring out her mouth, sobbing, gasping for air; mixture of grunts, moans and whispers of curses and pleas were all spouted incoherently.
Anger.
Frustration.
Rage.
Wrath.
Even hatred.
The soldat was feeling it all.
It was consuming him, devouring any sanity that was left of Bucky's moral values. The eerie glint in the soldat eyes suggested that he was not planning to stop until she gave him what he wants.
God, if it wasn't for chilling atmosphere around her, Elle might just mistook that she was actually in hell.
"Pyrenees!" She cried out. The soldat instantly stopped when she confessed. He waited for an answer and right on cue, she spoke again, breathless and almost silent as the fear that engulfed her prior refused to release her from its haunting grip. And truthfully she doubt that it will ever let her go, "T-there a secret base n-near the Irati forest."
She exhaled a shaky breath as she pleaded, "S-so please. Please stop this." The was tired of the pain and the numbness that came after. And the soldat knows it.
The room was left silent momentarily, as if he was actually considering her plea but alas he already had plans for her all along, "Shame. You should've killed yourself before I came here."
As he finished the last word, the soldat viciously plunged his knife deep into her neck, digging the sharpness of it through the delicate flesh until it reach the base of the blade.
Elle gasped in response, her hands scrabbling around in effort to break free, to stop all of this. But considering the situation she was in, there was nothing she could do about it other than to take it as it was given to her.
When the motion finally stopped, the soldat simply walked away from the scene as if it was a complete norm for him to behave as he was. He didn't even thought of cleaning the mess he left behind. Or hide the corpse somewhere.
Isn't he afraid that he might leave his tracks for the police to find?
Why would he?
This has been his life for decades on end. His sole purpose of living was to kill. So best believe that the authorities will never be able to link the soldat or Bucky to this crime.
Not today, not ever.
Through the days that Y/N was locked deep within Hydra's base, she hadn't been treated the worst. In fact, the sick and twisted agents and residents in the facility was more than willing to care for her.
This was all because they wanted her baby.
It was always sickening to hear them referring her child as merely a tool for their success. And the way they worship Y/N like she was a gift from God to fulfill their purpose, was beyond insanity.
"Oh, to have the privilage of bearing the offspring of the Winter Soldier. To be able to create the perfect weapon, unlike the father. It is just honorable."
It made her stomach churned with pure disgust whenever she heard those types of comments floating around her.
Besides the eerily digusting behaviour of the agents, there was also the regular check-ups and the lab tests that she needed to attend. Out of all the things she had to endure these past few weeks, the medical check-up has always dreaded her the most.
There was this constant debate within her troubled mind; of the possibility of Hydra manipulating her baby's health and genes by inserting unknown substance into her.
"Come on, mama. On the bed." The doctor said as he patted his rubber gloved hand on the surface of the rigid single bed.
She always found it vile that the people here calling her by that nickname. It tickled her throat in a way that she wanted to puke all the tasteless gunk that they had fed her with.
As she laid on the bed and let the process went on as it usually do, the doctor suddenly stopped everything that he was doing. At first she was weirded out by the irregular act of the man, but when she felt the vibration on the ground and the rushing footsteps from the floor above her, she knew exactly why the doctor suddenly froze on his spot.
And the emergency siren that shortly blared after, had only confirmed her speculation.
But mostly, it was the panic in the doctor's eyes that gave him away; then when Y/N noticed the man scrambled to search the drawers from one of the cabinet, she knew that he was up to no good.
The second that the doctor's hurried his steps towards her with a syringe in his hand, Y/N's body immediately recoiled. She quickly stopped him by grabbing his wrist and twisted it back until the syringe dropped from his hold.
The man cursed under his breath and decided to take her by force when he grabbed a handful of her hair, almost dragging her out of the bed. Y/N shrieked painfully while her hands blindly grabbing the silver tray by the bed next to her.
She then slammed it hard against his head, and watched the contents on the tray fell and scatter onto her. She took quick skim over all the tools and saw a potential weapon for her defence; a scissor.
"Stay still, mama. Or the baby will get hurt." The doctor foolishly threatened.
Maybe it was her defence mechanism or maybe it was just her motherly instinct kicking in but something just snapped inside of her when he said those words. There was this incredibly strong urge to either fight or take flight.
Of course she could easily slipped away and make a run for it but she just couldn't risk it. Especially when her baby's life was currently at stake. So, after a short moment of hesitation, she swiftly grabbed the scissors and surge it through his ribs. The man wailed in pain as he staggered off the bed and fell onto the floor.
You'd thought a single yet firm stab through the guts was enough to quench Y/N's need of fighting back but no. Apparently, the haywire of her nerves had drove her feral and she needed him to be soulless by the time she walk out the room.
That had forced her to nearly jumped on him like a predator pinning on a meek prey and the lack of struggling on the victim's side had only gave her full control to dominate him.
Then all of the sudden, the doctor felt another strike of the pain, digging into the flesh of his chest.
He woefully cried in extreme pain while Y/N did not utter a single word or let out any sound, she stayed silent as she thrusts the scissor in and out his flesh.
Each surge was vicious than the previous. Each stab was gradually speeding up as the motion increases it's number of repetition.
She completely let her emotions took over her sanity.
Until what's left in the room was only the sloshing and splashing sound of blood seeping through every thrust, as she continued to violate the body of the corpse.
Until the calm puddle of blood on floor rippled as the tears that broke from her eyes dropped on it's surface.
And when she realized that the doctor was long dead, that broke Y/N out from her feral state. Realizing what she had done; she shakily loosen her grip on the scissors and scrambled off from the lifeless body.
Her breath was near erratic; it was a chaos of unsteady rhythm as her words was lost at the tip of her tongue. She jolted in shock when the commotion in the facility got louder than before, reminding her that Bucky was there to save her.
Y/N felt a sob choking in her throat as her hands searched her stomach to coax the child in her womb, "It's okay sweet bean, daddy's here for us."
Have you ever heard how ear-ringingly loud it is when it's hailing? How the sounds of the frozen raindrops hitting – the top of your car or the roof of the shades of an outdoor café table – can completely mute your words for anyone to hear?
That has nothing compared to the thundering sounds that echoed throughout the whole facility. The shots were fired from multiple range of stolen guns, all were coming from one moving figure.
The once clean grey and white painted walls of the hallways, were now stained and splattered with the color of crimson. The usually empty hallways, were occupied by the dead bodies of fallen Hydra agents. And the distinct scent of well-kept lair, were effortlessly replaced by the unpleasant and pungent smell; a mixture of blood and sweat.
It was a clear trail of the Winter Soldier's deeds.
This place was supposed to be pristine, but now feels more like how it should be; hell.
While the enemies were roaring into their death, the soldat on the other hand was very much the opposite.
Unlike his foe, it took him very little work from the tips of his tongue and much more on the tips of his gun. When the enemies barked like a dog, the soldat pounced like a wolf; silent and resilient.
By nature, the soldat had never been a patient man, especially when it comes to people harming his darling.
Sure, maybe he can tolerate and play along with people who messed with him, but if one were to touch even a strand of hair of his beloved, then they practically reserving themselves a first class ticket of a one-way trip to hell.
And that unhinged tendencies of his only worsen when wrath was the one reigning his mind while hatred was its ruler. His mind was nothing but a chaos of rampage and vengeance. Seeking nothing but blood and death of his foolish foe.
At this point of time, with the amount of life he had taken from the moment he step foot into the gate of the base, to the very stairs he was currently climbing, one could probably matched his heart rate with the rhythm of the shots formed by the bullets he shot.
Magazine upon magazine he reloaded his gun and waste no less than zero bullet as every shot made was accurately deadly and terrifying fatal to his prey.
As the soldat's feet reached half way up the stairs, a Hydra agent's voice spoke from the lower level, "She's on the LG2, we need a team to come and collect her as soon as poss--" A bullet went straight through the top of his head before he could finish his sentence.
And that was the soldat's last ammo.
While he mentally took note on the intel, his feet was quick to jumped into action and made his way down to LG2. As he entered the hallway, his wild eyes wondered around to steal another gun from a dead man's body.
But he rose into a stand, he felt a tip of a cold steel nudged at the back of his head.
Some would call out the soldat's mistake for letting his guard down in the middle of a battle, but another would definitely ridicule the stupidity of that fool's guts for even thinking that the soldat couldn't counter-attack his weak threats.
However, none of the two man managed to made any move towards each other when there was a faster, more accurate trigger was pulled from someone else, from across the hallway.
And that action left an aftermath of the fool's body to drop flat on the floor, quickly finding it's perfect spot with between the other pile of corpses scattered around.
When the soldat turned around, the sharp of his gaze softened almost immediately.
There she was standing there, in the pastel blue of her 'prison' attire. Her hair was a bit messy even if it was tied, and her complexion looked slightly pale with fatigue but to the soldat, she was glowing like angel; despite the blood on her clothes or the gun in her hand.
She was right there.
His heart.
His love.
His darling.
Her eyes were red and puffy, as if she had been crying for days. Her pouty lips trembled when the soldat stepped closer and closer towards her, tears threatening to fall as if she haven't done that during all the weeks that she had been here.
The soldat's steps grew faster.
So does Y/N's.
Tap taping until they were almost running towards each other.
Until the moment they reunited in the middle.
Catching each other's lips in a desperate and insatiable kiss, the soldat pulled her body tight around the waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Both whimpered in a yearning moan, both still had their guns hanging on one of their hands.
So many feelings at once, relief and grief, with each of them had a different story to tell.
The couple kept breaking and mending the kiss ever-so-passionately as if they weren't in the middle of the grave-less cemetery; as if they weren't in the center of the piling corpses.
Briefly opening his eyes, the soldat could see a shadow running towards them. When Y/N heard the footsteps from her back, she knew they need to pull away, but the soldat was firm and stubborn with his hold.
So instead of letting her break the kiss, he groaned in disapproval and pulled her lips back to his. An angry growl vibrated against her lips as he continued to explore her wet and warm mouth.
Caught off-guard she melted to his silent demand, almost forgot that the enemy was right behind her. But, she should've know better when the soldat loosen one of his arms from the embrace and pointed his gun towards the target.
His finger pulled the trigger almost as easily as his teeth tugging into the bottom of her lips. And suddenly the sound of a body collapsing behind didn't matter anymore.
When the soldat felt that he had enough of the sweetness of her kiss, he finally pulled away, at least for now. He whispered dearly, "Родная (darling)..." he cupped her face in his large hands and rested his forehead on hers.
She thought she heard it wrong, but did he just called her darling? It took her a few second to piece it together and realized that this man was not Bucky, that he had relapsed into the Winter Soldier again, "Soldat?"
The soldat smiled and leaned forward to steal a chaste kiss on her lips, "Yes, it's me, мое Родная (my darling)" he cooed as he swept her by her feet, off the bloody ground and carried her in his arm, "I got you, Куколка (little one). You can rest now."
"We're just wanted make sure she's alright."
"You can follow us if you want so just please--"
"Soldat! You're going to hurt her."
The familiar voices leaked through Y/N's ears as she was drifting through her dreamless slumber. Soon enough, the loud commotion of her surrounding woke her up from the deep sleep.
The words that the Avengers were yelling out became clearer as she gained her consciousness, and the ever-changing movements of the soldat, evading every step the Avengers made to get closer to him, made her aware of the way she was resting in his arms; perfectly cocooned in a form of a bridal carry style.
The soldat halted on his spot when Y/N opened her eyes to see what was going on, "Soldat?" She blinked multiple times as she adjusted to the lights. The menacing frown of the soldat melted into a much softer expression, "Родная(darling), you shouldn't be awake yet." He craddled her closer to him as he cooed.
Where is she? How long was she out? When did she changed her clothes?
"What is happening?" She asked as she peered over his shoulder to see Natasha sighing in relief, "Sweetheart, thank god you're awake."
Y/N then looked over to Steve, "You've been gone for weeks, y/n. We got news about your rescue yesterday, and you guys just arrived home. Now, if we could just to take you to the medbay and get you check-up, that'll be great." He briefly explained.
"Yeah, that's all we want isn't it? But, someone just had to be sappy and refuse to let anyone touch you. You know, how it is with the soldier." Tony quickly intercepted.
The soldat didn't pay them any attention now that his darling was awake. He was merely focusing on whispering the sweetest things as he traces delicate trails of kisses on her forehead, her nose, her cheek, basically all over her face.
Sam took it as opportunity to get closer when the soldat was distracted on suffocating Y/N with kisses. But he should learn by now how alert and agile the soldat can be, especially when he have Y/N close to his proximity.
So, when Sam took a step closer, the soldat recoiled almost immediately, putting quite of a distance between them.
"Man, if Bucky has a staring problem, then the winter soldier over here has a hogging problem." Sam accusingly pointed at the soldat, only getting grunts as a reply.
Looking at the current situation, Y/N pondered for awhile. As much as she wanted to get herself check-up, it was also wise to not pressure the soldat to give her away.
Considering what she witnessed at the Hydra base, Y/N knew the risk that comes when we let the soldat dwell in anger for too long.
So she consulted the rest of the team to back down for now, and let the soldat do what he wants. Y/N promised them that she will conviced the soldat to let her get a check-up as soon as possible. But for now, they really need to trust her words.
At first every one of them was reluctant to let her go but in the end they agreed to her suggestion.
When the team spread out and gave some space for the soldat, he didn't waste any time and marched straight to where their bedroom supposed to be. As soon as they arrived at their safe space, the soldat almost threw Y/N onto the bed and swiftly drew a knife from the holster of his thigh as his predatory eyes searched the room.
He refused to move even an inch away from where he stood and remained close to Y/N; shielding her figure with his own.
It was very faint, but the soldat could sensed that they weren't the only ones in the room.
Y/N eyed him curiously, wondering why the soldat was still on edge when he wasn't supposed to. So, she hopped off from the bed and stood on her feet before reaching out to hug the soldat from behind.
"You can put the knife down, soldat. It's just us here." She coaxed but the soldat refused to believe her. He pulled her by the arms, breaking her hug in the process and hold her close to his chest, "There's someone else here."
His actions was rather rougher than he intended it to be; even Y/N was startled by the sudden movement, "Oooff, careful there, soldat. You might give the little one a fright." She chuckled softly as she give her belly a loving rub.
And suddenly his attention was completely focused on Y/N now. Usually his frown symbolized irritation, but this time there was a clear confusion in his eyes. The amount of appalled blinking of his eyes increases when the puzzle pieces in his head started to merge.
The soldat knew that he heard a third heartbeat in the room; that was why he was on alert for threats but apparently he had been closer to the source than he thought was.
In fact, it was right his arms. Or maybe a little bit lower, somewhere around his torso.
Y/N didn't say anything, she simply nodded and smiled up to him as she continued to rub her belly.
When the conclusion finally hits him, the soldat dropped the knife in his hand at the same time he fell on his knees. His gaze never broke from hers, not even a split second, until he was face to face with her tummy.
The soldat leaned one side of his ear closer to her and the thumping sound of the third heartbeat got louder. The discovery had caused him to jolt away as shock decorated his features. He titled his head upwards to Y/N with the same wide, confused look in his blue eyes.
"It's okay, love." She giggled amusingly when the soldat repeated his previous actions. He leaned in and jolted back again as if he couldn't believe what he just heard was real, "Is it... his?" The soldat asked as he implied his existance to be separated from Bucky.
There was a hint of sadness in Y/N's expression when he said it like that. There's been many long conversations that she and Bucky had about the soldat after his first relapse.
Though Bucky was still unsure of his own dissociating self, Y/N on other hand believed that the soldat, this particular man whose drenched the earth with blood just to save her, the same man whose currently on his knees to hear a heartbeat of an unborn child; he deserved a little kindness in his life.
"Yes..." Y/N answered truthfully before she continued, "...and he's yours too."
And that surely knocked the air out of the soldat's lungs, he couldn't tell if she was telling him the truth or was just trying to kill him; either way the butterflies in his chest was suffocating him from the inside.
The soldat couldn't speak a single word; because he didn't know what to say. But there was this beam on his features, light in his eyes, softness on his smile when he dreamily stared at her growing belly.
Y/N took him by his flesh hand and place his palm on her stomach, then she spoke tenderly to the baby inside her, "Wanna say hi to daddy, sweet bean? Say, 'Welcome home, daddy.' "
She knew it was silly, because obviously the child in her womb shouldn't be able to speak, and he was not yet developed enough to be kicking his feet. Hell, they don't even know his gender yet.
But how could she not say it when the soldat looked so damn happy when she did. He looked so peaceful and has this daze and some of those twinkling hearts in those steel-blue eyes of. The soldat sighed in pure joy before he leaned to kiss her stomach.
And as it turns out that was all she needed to do to persuade the soldat to letting her see the doctors. He was there through the whole process, refusing to let go of her hand. It was such a good news to hear that the baby was healthy and there wasn't any foreign substance that might contaminated her during her times in Hydra.
After getting proper medical care and some food in her system, the soldat immediately carry her back to their room to settle down. While she laid on the bed, making up for the lost time to finally get the mental rest she desperately needed, the soldat on the other hand, had made himself comfortable by lying his head on her stomach.
He just couldn't stop; as if he was hypnotised by the melody of the baby's heartbeat. His hand snuck under her shirt, lifting the fabric up to reveal the belly where their miracle resides.
Y/N's droopy eyes followed his actions as she watched how carefully the soldat approached her. Out of habit, her hands absentmindedly rake through the softness of his hair as she held him by the head.
The soldat dotingly caressed the child's sleeping chambers as he leaned closer to it, "...Hi there, little one." he greeted with a quiet and loving whisper.
Immediately, a smile beamed brightly on Y/N's face when the soldat proceed to pamper her belly with countless of tender kisses, "...it's daddy." he introduced himself, as if the baby was able to understand him.
The silence that came after was so sweet and comfortable. And Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to have this without the soldat. She tucked a piece of his loose strand of hair behind his ear when she spoke gently, "Thank you for saving me, soldat."
He briefly lifted his head and smiled up at her, "You know I can't live without you Родная (darling). I will always need you." He declared a truthful confession before turning his attention away. His lips grazed on the skin of her belly as he mumbled against it, "And you too, little one."
Y/N could burst into tears just from this interaction alone but she try not to. She doesn't want to look back at this moment and remember how much she wept, so she blinked her tears away while she watched the soldat spoiled the little buddle of joy inside her with so much endearments.
Even though it was always a happy memory for the soldat when he spend time with his darling, but this... this was rare. And he wanted to cherish it for as long as he could.
The soldat laid on his ears again when he peered from where he had his head rested, his deep gaze captured her attention, "Has he been taking care of you good, darling?" He asked.
The soldat probably had no idea how Bucky adored her; if anyone paid enough attention they might even caught him worshipping the very ground she stepped on.
A breathy chuckle escaped from her mouth as nodded with a drunken grin, "He's the best." She hummed approvingly, "Best husband, and best daddy too." She exclaimed brightly as she glanced at the ring on her finger; it was barely visible through the thick of the soldat's hair.
Surprisingly, the soldat didn't react negatively to her remarks, instead, a proud smile curved on his lips as the pride in his chest overflowed and leaked all through his very being, "Good." He simply said.
The smile lines on the corner of his eyes didn't flatten even when he closed his eyes. For a moment, he tried to silenced everything else around him and focused on the fluttering sounds of the baby's tiny heart.
It might have been the thick haze of lavender smoke in their head or the swarming butterflies in their chest, that they didn't even notice the fatigue that had been slowly taking over them, until the tenderness of their caresses were barely moving.
When the heaviness of her eyes weighted the lids, she sleepily asked the soldat, "Will you still be here when I wake up?" Truth to be told, she was afraid that all of this was just a dream; an escape from reality of the cruel captivity.
The soldat briefly opened his own tired eyes and cooed softly, "I'm always with you, Родная (darling)." And Y/N took it as a promise for her desprete soul to cling on; a ray of hope for her to hold onto, if she ever wakes up in that cell again.
Not long after, both of them lost to the lure of somnolent and their soul quickly drifted into the peaceful dreamland. Soft snores were filling the quiet of the room as their mortal body continued to entangled themselves with each other.
It was safe to say that if Steve would ever barge into the room, he'd probably maxed the storage of his phone with photos of the soldat smushing his face on Y/N's belly as she perfectly curled around him.
Maybe it was the sunlight leaking through the window or maybe it was the intense gaze she felt burning on the skin of her face. Eitherway, it certainly disturbed her from her sleep.
When her body stirred, Y/N realized that she didn't need to open her eyes to know that last night was not a dream, especially when she can feel a pair of familiar arms wrapping around her waist under her shirt.
Y/N slowly peeled her eyes open to see a recognizable ceiling. Her eyes then trailed to her side and met a pair of blue of eyes staring back at her. Her gaze searched for the soul within him and found the semblance of Bucky reflected in his eyes.
Still dazed from sleep, she continued to watch him blinking at her, slowly and silently, like a cat declaring their love to their human. But even then, he couldn't hide the afterglow of the tears on his face.
"Bucky, honey. Have you been crying?" Her voice rasped from lack of use, yet her tender fingers find themselves crawling across his wet cheeks.
It was as if her voice was a trigger, and tears quickly reformed in Bucky's eyes again. Y/N gently pulled him to her chest, one hand threading his hair and another rubbing his back as he sobbed in her arms, "It's okay, Bucky. We're okay." She continued to coax him lovingly.
They spend most of the early morning holding each other close and dear. Then when the tears started to lessen, Bucky finally pulled himself away from her. Y/N wiped the excess tears on his cheeks but he caught her hand underneath his; he relished in the relief of her presence when he sighed to her touch.
Bucky's gaze wobbled in the pool of tears in his eyes but he was still determined to speak his mind "I'm so sorry, doll." He apologized, "I couldn't stop them. Even with this damned serum in me, I still couldn't protect you; both of you." If his defeated voice didn't convey his truth, then the tremble of his touch should be enough.
And Y/N's heart simply shattered for him; what did he meant by that? He did save her though. The winter soldier or Bucky. It didn't matter who but she was here now because of him. She was safe; they both were, "But you saved me, did you not?"
"But, I didn't. The sol--" Before Bucky could even finish his sentence, Y/N quickly cuts in, "The soldat is always going to be a part of you, Bucky. And if he saved me, that means you saved me too." She reassured him.
Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, she continued to persuade him, "And if I could speak for our child, which I absolutely can because I'm his mother, then he would say that he is proud that his strong daddy managed to beat the absolute shit out of those bad guys."
Bucky blurted out a hearty laugh, "I don't think it's good to teach our baby to curse when he is still in your womb, mama." His laugh gradually reduced to a chuckle when he wiped the remaining tears from his eyes.
Y/N simply shrugged to his suggestion, "It's not like he wouldn remember this anyway." She smirked playfully.
Another chuckle managed to slip through Bucky's lips before he lowered his face to her tummy, "And you? How's your play date with Winter, hmm sweet bean?" He mumbled as his lips planted on her skin.
Besides the heartbeat of his child, he could also hear the tiny twitching of the baby's limbs moving ever-so-slightly, "Yeah, I bet he spoiled you with lots of kisses and cuddles, huh? Like he did your mommy?" He continued to coo against her belly, unaware of the shock on his wife's face.
"Winter?" A small smile cracked from the corner of her lips. Yes, she was shocked but that doesn't mean she wasn't pleasantly surprised by it.
Bucky didn't even bother to look up at Y/N's face as he was busy blowing raspberries on her stomach, "If he's going to keep popping up in our lives then we might as well call him something else other than 'soldat', don't you think?" He simply said, marking one last kiss on the small growing bulge on her belly, before working his way back up to her face.
Y/N's heart swelled to his gesture and when he laid his head next to hers, she carefully took him by his cheeks, pulling him in for a gentle kiss, "I think he'd love that, Bucky." She whispered against his lips, feeling his smile in return.
Bucky nudges forward to catch her lips again; kissing her slow and sweet as if his whole world has been waiting for this moment. And when the kiss naturally broke, he tempted her with something he knew she couldn't resist, "Now, how about we grab you both something to bite, hmm?"
End.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: The use of the title in the fic is suprisingly wholesome despite the insinuation of it, don't you think? Lol. Btw, thank you so much for stopping by and read my work. Leave your thoughts behind for me, I'd love to hear from you!
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Hi girl ❤️ inhope it's ok to send in a request. i thought of something where the reader is working at the Avengers Compound and trains new agents, but one of them grows fond of her and like creeps up on her or follows her around all the time. Soon Bucky noticed that and decides to help. As the guy then again waits up on you and gets too close for Bucky's liking, he steps in between and kisses you passionately, making the creep leave and takes you by surprise. But what started as only some help, continues in Bucky's bedroom, revealing hidden feelings and passion 😏 i hope this is ok with you ❤️
we could've done it earlier
masterlist ko-fi ao3
Word count: 2.3k
Warnings: +18❗️creepy men, protective Bucky, smut, friends to lovers, idiots in love, dirty talk, unprotected sex
Author's note: well, that was fun to write. I hope you'll like it and that I saw the vision right. thank you for the request💘
You rolled your eyes again when you noticed that Kevin’s eyes stayed on your body for way too long. You had just finished another session of training with the new recruits from S.H.I.E.L.D. and everything was fine—most of them were really talented and eager to learn, but that one guy had acted super weird since the day Fury introduced you.
He always gave you weird looks, tried to flirt with you during the training and you swore that he was following you around the tower because you “accidentally” bumped into him and ended up in the same room more times than you could count.
You decided to forget about it for today and took a quick shower in the gym, and after changing your sweaty clothes, you went to the kitchen on Avenger’s floor to grab a snack.
You didn’t even have time to look through the cupboards when you saw a figure in the corner of your eye walking towards you.
“Mind some company?” Kevin stepped closer to you with that creepy smile on his face and scanned your body up and down once again.
“What are you doing here? It’s Avenger’s quarters; you shouldn’t be here.” You crossed your arms over your chest to hide from his stare.
“Well, I thought they could make an exception for me, especially since my favorite trainer lives here.” He stepped closer and you instantly stepped back. Yes, you were one of the Avengers, but it didn’t change the fact that he was a man who clearly had bad intentions towards you, so your body and mind worked differently around him. “And I also thought we could do something together, if you know what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, and I’m not interested in whatever you are suggesting. Please don’t overstep the line. I’m your trainer and nothing more.” You tried to talk firmly and confidently, even though your whole body was tensed from Kevin’s almost predatory stare. “I-I have a boyfriend. Don’t try to do anything.”
“You’re lying. I know that you want me. And I want you–” Kevin wanted to get closer to you, but a certain Super Soldier appeared out of nowhere, stood between you and him, and kissed you.
Bucky was watching this whole scene from the beginning. He also saw how that guy was following you around and just staring at you shamelessly.
Bucky had a crush on you since the day you met, but he didn’t try to change things between you, being too scared that you wouldn't ever talk to him again. At first, he thought that there were mutual feelings between you and Kevin because you were so sweet to everyone, but the more he paid attention, the more he noticed how uncomfortable you would get every time you spotted Kevin in the same room.
So when Bucky saw him following you once again, and this time being even more persistent, he knew that he should save you.
So he just stepped in and kissed you.
Was it stupid? Probably. Did he regret doing it? Not in the slightest way.
Your whole body froze, and your mind was overloaded with the unknown feeling of Bucky’s lips and his hands on your face while he was slowly kissing you. He kissed you as if he had all the time in the world, and as if Kevin, who was clearly confused and angry, was not standing right behind him.
Bucky slightly pulled away, not letting go of your face, and looked back at Kevin. “Do you have a problem with my girlfriend?” His stare could scare anyone, and the way all the color washed away from Kevin’s made him feel weirdly satisfied.
He looked back at you, not missing how your pupils were dilated and your mouth was slightly open in shock, before he captured your lips in another kiss. Now it was not so sweet, though. Bucky was clearly dominating over you, biting your lip and then licking it with his tongue.
You both didn’t notice how Kevin left. Too lost in each other’s touches, scents, and lips. It was addicting.
“I’m sorry for doing it without permission. Just wanted to scare him away from you.” Bucky mumbled against your lips, yet he didn’t move, not even an inch away from your body. Your eyes lowered to his lips, already craving to feel them again. And Bucky understood it straightaway. “Tell me to stop.” He knew that he was fucked up. Before, he was just observing you and trying to suppress his feelings, but now that he had finally touched and kissed you, he couldn’t hide it anymore.
Your head was feeling fuzzy, while your hands were clenching onto Bucky’s shirt. You could barely understand what he was saying to you, but that familiar heat in your stomach appeared again, as it did every time he called you “doll” or smiled.
“Please don’t…” You whine, pulling him even closer. “I want you. I need you, Buck.” You kissed him this time, raising one hand to bury it in his fluffy and soft hair. Bucky moaned in your mouth when you slightly dragged your nails along his scalp.
He gripped your waist with both of his hands and then let the metal one slide down to the back side of your thigh. Bucky mumbled a raspy “jump”, and you, without hesitation, followed his command, wrapping your legs around his waist.
You both moaned when your clothed core met the hardness in his jeans. As if it were an instinct, you moved your hips, trying to do something to relieve that aching feeling in your body.
“Stop moving, or I’ll fuck you right in this kitchen, doll.”
It was shameful how quickly you would’ve agreed to do that.
After firmly settling you in place, Bucky went to his room without a struggle, carrying your weight and kissing the heated skin of your neck. As soon as the door was closed and you were gently placed on a perfectly made bed, you both became even more greedy for each other.
Tugging clothes, pulling hair, and biting each other’s lips and skin. Bucky's firm body was pressing against yours, and you nearly drowned in the mattress. Bucky's cock became even harder when he finally got a good look at your face—half-closed eyes, smollen red lips, completely messed-up hair. You looked fucking majestic.
“You are so fucking beautiful, Y/N. Fuck, I wanted to do it for so long.” He said it harshly, trying to catch a breath.
“Me too. Me too, Bucky… Oh God, it almost hurts.” You tried to move your lower body upwards to grind yourself on something, but Bucky just smirked at you and pinned you back to the bed.
“Be patient and let me have my time with you, doll.”
“Not now, please. James. I need it. Just fuck me. We can do whatever you want later. ” You almost cried, your hands sliding under Bucky’s shirt and sending shudders down his back. Who was he to decline your request when you asked so nicely?
When he just slightly nodded to your words, you lifted up your arms, allowing Bucky to take off your oversized t-shirt. He almost choked on his saliva when he discovered that you were naked underneath it.
“I love the twenty-first century.” Your laugh quickly turned into a moan when Bucky took one of your nipples into his mouth and pinched the other one with his fingers. The way he tried to be so gentle with his metal arm didn’t go unnoticed by you. He was always so careful not to hurt you in any possible way, but this felt much more intimate, deeper.
After finally being satisfied with his work on your tits, Bucky trailed a way of kisses down to your leggings, slightly pushed the waistband down and teased you with his wet tongue, almost in the place where you wanted him the most.
“Just take it off.”
Bucky stood on his knees in between your legs and pulled down your pants and underwear, throwing them on the floor. “Dear fucking God. I’ll have my sweet time with her later.” He licked his lips, eyes glued to your wet folds. You just wined at his words, slightly pressing your legs together to exert some kind of pressure on your swollen clit.
Bucky hesitated to take off his shirt. Being too lost in you, he almost forgot about his metal arm. But you were on his bed, naked, impatient, and only with lust written in your eyes. He knew you wouldn't judge him.
Actually, you had never seen Bucky without clothes; only once did you catch him after the gym in the tightest possible t-shirt that revealed every little muscle on his chest and press. But holy shit, seeing him naked was shocking in the best possible way. His perfectly sculpted body, tanned skin, and slightly dingling silver dog tags made your mouth water with the need to kiss every centimeter of him. When your eyes shifted a little bit higher and caught the tormented skin on his shoulder, you felt nothing but sadness and pride for Bucky being so strong.
“You’re pretty.” The pink color spread to Bucky’s ears at your words. “And I want you all. Buck, you better hurry up and undress or I will have to handle this on my own." You slowly lowered your hand in between your legs to tease him and ease the tension in Bucky’s body, and you saw it working by the way his eyes were laser-focused on your actions.
“You’re playing with fire, doll.” He lowered his body on yours again, pushing away your hand, but instead pinned it above your head and kissed you. His free hand finally unbuckled his pants, and he did not bother taking them completely off—he just pushed them down slightly because he did not want to lose the sensation of being so close to you. “Oh fuuuck—” Bucky moaned as his cock touched your lower stomach and you could help but drag your eyes there.
"There's no way you’re walking around with this…” You whispered in disbelief.
“Mhm, you’ll get used to it.” He gave you a cocky smile. “Um, do you want me to find a condom? Fuck, I don’t have it.” The worry appeared in Bucky’s face and he looked around the room, as if the box could just magically appear somewhere.
“No-no, Bucky, just fuck me. Please. I’m on birth control. I need you in me right now.” You were too desperate, wrapping your legs around his body and pushing him closer. The tip of his hard cock slipped across your pussy and you both hissed at the feeling.
Bucky nodded more to himself and finally reached in between your bodies, gave himself a few pumps and started pushing inside of you. The stretch was almost painful, but at the same time, it was the best thing you had ever felt.
He couldn’t hold it inside anymore. As soon as you took every inch of him, Bucky started moving in a steady rhythm. He lost himself in the way he fit so perfectly into you. He was fucking you without mercy. You gripped his shoulder with your free hand, while the non-stop moans escaped your mouth with every movement. Your body was jumping up and down on the bed; your eyes rolled back in pleasure and not a single thought flashed through your head.
“So good for me. You’re taking me so well, doll. Just like that.” He was practically splitting you apart with his cock, but it seemed like you became even wetter with every second. If you weren’t too lost in pleasure, you would be ashamed of the way you made a total mess on his cock and thighs.
Bucky, on the other hand, did not seem to mind; he kept pounding into you, sensing how you clenched tighter around him as you got closer to the orgasm. He freed your hand and grabbed your face so you would stay focused on his face.
“Tell me how good you feel, baby. Your sweet juice is practically soaking my bed.” He said it without losing the speed of his thrusts or breaking eye contact.
“So good– Bucky! Oh my fucking God.” You moaned through greated teeth, barely being able to keep your eyes open.
“Are you going to cum, sweet girl? Gonna milk my cock?” His face got closer to yours, so your lips barely touched when his was talking. You wanted to cry, moan, scream, or do everything all at once when the pure bliss washed over you. “Ye-e-es, that’s it, baby. Take it all, fuck!”
Bucky pushed his cock into your spasming pussy a few more times before he groanted somewhere near your ear and you felt the hot liquid covering your insides. You both were heavily breathing, clinging closer to each other. You felt too hot and sweaty; the feeling of Bucky’s heavy body covering your smaller form was so calming and safe. Bucky hummed into your neck when you wrapped your hands around his shoulders and lowered his flesh one to sofly trace the delicate skin of your thigh.
“I can’t believe that we wasted so much time. We could’ve done it earlier.” Bucky rolled to his side, dragging you with him. He pushed your hair out of your face, and his hand stayed on your cheek for a few seconds while he was admiring you.
“We’re idiots.” You giggled and bit your lip, looking at Bucky.
“We totally are. But I won’t let you go again.”
You were just staring at each other, smiling. It felt so natural to be in his arms, surrounded by his scent and warmth, as if it were supposed to have happened a long time ago. Bucky couldn’t help but move forward to capture your lips in another sweet kiss.
Everything finally fell into place.
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Honey Girl. Chapter Four.
Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.
Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky deal with the fallout of Cora's reveal. What's that saying? If you love something, let it go...
Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au
Age Rating - 18+
Warnings - cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.
Word Count - 5k
Author's Note - i can only apologise that this chapter took a little while!! my life is at a super weird place rn, so i'm just trying to find the time when i can. words cannot describe how incredible all of your support is for Honey Girl. the fact you all reblog and comment and send me asks means the world to me. love you all so much.
as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3
Masterlist. Inbox.
You can't breathe.
It's like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the air, leaving it dry, brittle, sterile. Your lungs are burning, scratched like sandpaper. The backyard is spinning, like teenagers at a roller rink - all flashing lights and endless rotations.
You haven't taken your eyes off of Bucky, and he hasn't taken his eyes off of you. If you were thinking more logically, you'd probably realise that you've been staring at each other for too long, and it's starting to look a little suspicious. You don't care.
Your ears are ringing. It's like there's been an explosion, and you're scattered amongst the debris. Smoke, flames, rubble. A catastrophic detonation in your parents backyard.
A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you back to reality. The music is still playing, everyone around the table is still conversing, the house still stands. No explosion here.
"Sweetheart?"
It's your Mom, clearly sensing your distress. She probably thinks you're upset with her, for telling Cora. You are, but that's not what's causing the pain in your chest.
"Come inside with me, baby girl. Let's get away from the noise for a second."
She grabs your hand and pulls you out of your chair, still none the wiser to the magnetism preventing you from breaking your gaze that's locked on Bucky's. She practically drags you inside, the cool air of the kitchen waking you up.
"Sweetheart, I am so, so sorry. Cora overheard the conversation we had earlier. I thought it was good news, so I didn't think to ask her to keep it private."
She looks like she's being eaten alive by guilt. Your bottom lip quivers, your eyes well up, and before you know it, there are warm, salty tears dripping down your cheeks.
"Hey, hey. What's the matter?"
You sit down on the tiled floor, back pressed against the cabinets. Curling your knees to your chest, you try to stifle your sobs.
"Everything's such a mess, Mama."
She drops to the ground, gathering you in her arms. She holds you as tight as she can, rubbing soothing circles into your back and whispering comforting words in your ear. Eventually, she pulls back to look at you.
"What's the matter, baby? I thought Stella's call was a good thing - that you'd be excited to go back to California."
You take a shaky breath before replying.
"It's just... I think - I don't, it's... it's so complicated."
She traces her fingers over your cheeks, your eyebrows, your nose. She dances her fingertips over your face, as if she's committing it to her mind forever. It brings back warm and cosy childhood memories of her doing the same thing to help you sleep. The two of you would snuggle up against all of your pillows in bed, tucked up and safe. She'd lie with you until she was sure you were dreaming, before kissing you on the forehead and sneaking out.
"Talk to me. We can figure it out. We always do."
"It's not that simple. I just... there's a lot going on, I guess. I thought it'd be an easy decision, but it isn't, and it's all I can think about, and it's eating me up because I'm so scared I'm gonna do the wrong thing -"
You cut yourself off with a sob, resting your head on your knees.
"I knew there was something bothering you, sweetheart. Why didn't you come and talk to us? Even if we can't fix it, we can listen."
"I thought I could handle it. I thought I could figure it out on my own."
"You don't ever have to carry stress like this on your own, baby girl. Ever. You hear me?"
You nod and lean into her, letting her rock you in her arms on the kitchen floor.
"I'm sorry again, about Cora. She means well, you know she does."
"I know. Doesn't feel like it sometimes, but I know."
A pause.
"Okay, sweetheart. What are we going to do now? Whatever you decide, we'll support you."
"Your Mom's right," your Dad says from the doorway. "Whatever you choose, we'll be right alongside you. No matter what."
He strides over to join the two of you on the floor, sandwiching you between him and your Mom.
"If you need help packing up and moving, we're here. If you need us to create an elaborate lie to tell Stella, we're here. Either way, you've got us."
You smile at him gently, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder. Regardless of what happens, you have two parents that love you more than anything in the world. That has to count for something.
"You wanna rejoin us outside, or are you too tired? No one will blame you if you go home."
"I think I'll go home," you murmur. "I don't wanna face any more questions for today."
"Bucky's just gone too. Said something about an early morning tomorrow."
You inhale shakily at the mention of his name. You know you'll have to face him sooner or later.
Your Dad stands and grabs your hands to help you to your feet, before doing the same to your Mom. They both hug you tightly before walking you out to the front door.
"Promise me you'll call if you need anything. Anything."
"I promise, Mama. Don't worry about me. I'll be okay."
"Do you want one of us to walk you home?"
"No, it's okay. I think I need the air."
"Love you, baby girl."
"Love you too. Both of you."
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You're halfway home when you decide to turn around. You need to talk to Bucky.
It doesn't take you long to figure out where he is. You can feel in your chest that he's close by, that he hasn't strayed far. He hasn't gone home, though. The Universe is pulling you in the opposite direction.
The beach.
You spin on your heel and start walking down the road, picking up pace as you go. You can feel rain in the air, threatening to spill from the clouds at any given moment. Before you know it, you're running, sprinting along the sidewalk in the direction of your soulmate.
You get to the small boardwalk and look out over the sand. The sky is grey as concrete, cold and unforgiving. You spot a figure in a worn brown leather jacket by the shore, and you know instantly. It's him.
You march onto the beach with your shoes still on, wrapping your arms around yourself to act as a shield from the wind. You left your jacket at your parent's house, too eager to get out of there in a hurry. The rain is suspended in the air, never quite reaching the ground. You know it's only a matter of time before the heavens open.
"Bucky!" you yell, practically bounding across the sand. "Buck!"
He doesn't turn because he hears your voice. He turns because he suddenly feels like he can breathe, which he hasn't been able to do for the last hour. He knew you were there before you shouted his name.
"Bucky, please!"
He spins on his heel and stops walking, waiting for you to catch up with him. You're sprinting, panting as you reach him. The ocean waves crash against the shore, dangerously close to his boots.
"Buck, just let me explain," you choke out, trying to catch your breath.
You finally stop running and look at him. He looks broken. His hair looks like he's pulled his fingers through it repeatedly, tear tracks staining his cheeks, lips bitten red. You've never seen him upset like this. It's the worst thing you've ever witnessed.
"There's nothing to explain," he begins calmly, trying to keep a lid on his feelings.
"There is, Buck. There is. I... Cora overheard me confiding in my Mom, telling her about a call I'd gotten, from a classmate at culinary school. It was just an offer - I haven't accepted anything! I never meant for you to find out like this, I swear. It's all just... it's all so fucked up."
He looks at you in disbelief.
"No, you know what's fucked up?" he asks, raising his voice. "Finding out that my soulmate is moving across the country from some alcoholic suburban mom at a dinner party!"
You've never heard him yell before. You don't like it at all. You gather yourself before replying calmly, determined to keep you emotions under wraps.
"I've been trying to find a way to talk to you about it, but I didn't know where to start. How do I even begin to explain any of this?"
"Maybe, I don't know - 'hey, Buck, I got a call and I'm thinking of moving thousands of miles away for my dream job,' would be a good place to start?"
"It's more complicated than that. I was trying to protect you."
"Protect me from what?"
"From blowing your life up for me!"
You stare at each other for a minute, both of you unblinking.
"What are you talking about?" he croaks out.
"You'd drop everything for me, Bucky, and I can't let you do that. You've worked too damn hard to let it all go."
He's dumbfounded, for a moment. Not because he doesn't understand. No. He's realising that you're right.
"I knew that if I told you straight away, you'd have persuaded me to let you come with, and I would have said yes. And then you'd regret it, and you'd resent me, and we'd be over before we've even begun."
When he doesn't say anything, you continue.
"The thing is, Buck, the selfish part of me would have happily invited you along. Me and you, in California, running a bakery? That sounds like a fucking dream. But I have to listen to the other side of me, the selfless part. And that part is telling me that you have worked too damn hard for too damn long just for me to take that all away."
You feel droplets of water on your face, and for a moment, you wonder when you started to cry again. Then, in the deep distance, you hear a crack of thunder. The rain begins to pour, both of you caught in a storm in more ways than one.
"You don't get to make a decision like that for me!" he finally responds, yelling to be heard over the downpour. "We're supposed to talk about these things! To figure them out together! That's what soulmates are - we're a team!"
"I can't think rationally around you, Bucky! It's like all logic goes out the window. I'm just so overwhelmed with-"
You stop yourself before the word comes out, but you both know what you were about to say. He feels it in his ribcage, the surge of emotion from you.
"-with how I feel about you. You're my forever, Buck, and I feel like -" a sob wracks through you, shaking your frame. "-like I've fucked it all up already."
Your tears mix with the rainwater, trailing down your cheeks. You watch as Bucky fights with himself, internally battling his feelings.
"You're not the only one fucking it up," he chokes. "You repeatedly told me we had to take it slow, but I just... couldn't help myself. I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you, and being away from you for even a minute is fucking torture. I moved us too fast, and now look where we are. We've become the equivalent of a married couple in a couple of weeks. No one can handle change that sudden."
"It's not.. none of this is your fault, Buck. I kept something from you, something big. I know it doesn't matter now, but I want you to know how hard it's been to not tell you. It was killing me."
"I felt it," he murmurs shakily, willing himself not to cry. "In my chest. You were so torn up about something, and I just couldn't figure out what it was. I should have pushed you more, but I was worried I'd push you away."
Your lip trembles as you watch him bite his own anxiously.
"I'm so scared, Buck," you whisper. "I feel so lost and so confused and like nothing makes sense."
"Me too," he whispers back, eyes never leaving yours. "I'm fucking terrified. Our worlds have been turned upside down."
"Is it... is it supposed to be this hard? Everyone makes it sound so easy."
"I don't know. Maybe the Universe heard that we were anti-soulmate and decided to be super tough on us. Cosmic karma, or something."
You choke out a laugh through your tears. The rain has plastered your clothes to your body, the salty wind chilling you to the bone. Without thinking, Bucky takes off his jacket and wraps it around you, unable to watch you shiver any longer.
"What now?" you ask quietly. If he wasn't standing so close, he wouldn't have heard it.
"Let's get out of the storm," he suggests, nodding his head towards the path home. "We can talk some more somewhere warmer."
You sniffle and take a deep breath, willing yourself to get it together. Bucky surprises you by linking your hand with his, warm fingers intertwining around yours.
He doesn't let go the whole way home.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Bucky takes you to his house.
You haven't been here since before your Tethering. You walk in the door, and your knees threaten to give way.
It's overwhelming.
Everywhere - everything - smells like Bucky. His scent clings to every fabric, every upholstery, every room. There's pictures scattered across the mantelpiece, his handsome face staring at you wherever you go. The house is warm, cosy, and just so Bucky it makes your heart ache.
You walk over to the fireplace, taking a closer look at the array of frames adorning it. There's one of your parents and Bucky smiling, sat out on his lawn last summer; another of Bucky and his team of mechanics, stood proudly outside his garage. A small black frame catches your eye. You pick it up, and your breath hitches in your chest.
It's a picture of the two of you on the deck of his boat, the day after you found out you were soulmates. The wind is blowing your hair, billowing your shirts, sun beating down on your skin. You're both beaming at the camera, bright and blinding, completely content.
You're holding back tears as you put it back in it's original place.
"My favourite picture," he murmurs from somewhere behind you. "We look happy."
"We were happy," you whisper. Then, quieter, "We will be again."
A pause.
"You want something to drink? Coffee, cocoa? Oh, I have that tea you like, the apple one?"
"You do?"
"Yeah. I, uh, bought some last time I went grocery shopping. In case you stopped by."
"Tea sounds good. Please."
You stay stood in the middle of the living room while Bucky puts the kettle on the stove, worried that your wet clothes will ruin his couch. As if he's read your mind, he pops his head around the door.
"There's a load of fresh clothes folded on top of the dryer. Grab whatever you want, dry off a little."
You wander into the laundry room, sorting through the pile. You find a t shirt with his garage logo on the back in big, white letters.
J.B.B. Motorcycles and Automotives.
The blocky, bold font swirls across the black material. You run your fingers over it, tracing the curves and spikes of the typeface. It's something you've seen him in a million times. You inhale deeply as you slip it over your head, revelling in the way it smells like him. You grab some boxer shorts and slip those on too, glad to finally be warm and dry.
Bucky loses his breath when you walk into the room. He's never seen you in his clothes before, and for good reason. He's about to have a goddamn heart attack.
"Tea is on the coffee table," he chokes out. "I'm gonna change, and then we'll talk, yeah?"
You nod gently, settling into the cushions of his couch and tucking your legs underneath you, mug warming your hands.
When Bucky returns, he's in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie that you want to burrow yourself into. He takes his place, careful to put a little distance between you. Far enough that you're not touching, but close enough that you almost are.
"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I'm not good at this."
"Neither am I," he smiles gently. "It's my first time having a soulmate."
"Mine too," you laugh softly.
It floors you, his ability to always be able to comfort you. It's like a superpower, the way he always knows what to say or do to put you at ease.
"I think we got a little ahead of ourselves," he begins, careful to keep his voice low and deliberate. "I keep forgetting that we have forever. Literally. I was so eager to rush into this with you because I got excited. Don't get me wrong, I'm still ridiculously excited, but I'm realising now that our version of 'slow' wasn't slow at all."
"This whole Tethering thing makes everything so intense. There have been times where I honestly thought I was going to drop dead if you didn't kiss me."
"The feelings mutual," he chuckles.
You lace your fingers with his, never breaking eye contact, before addressing the elephant in the room.
"What am I gonna do about California, Buck?"
Your voice cracks just saying the word.
"Stella needs an answer, and I've upset you, and my parents are clueless, and I just - I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do. Please."
"I can't tell you what to do, honey," he soothes, running his thumb over the back of your hand. "And I'm not upset. I was, in the backyard... but I was mainly just blindsided. I kinda get it, you not telling me. I'm not sure what I'd do in your situation either."
"I just feel like both decisions are wrong. I can't win."
"Hey, hey. Look at me, pretty baby."
Bucky cradles your face in his warm hands, forcing your eyes to meet his ocean blue ones. You have to focus on his words, so you don't get lost in the waves of his irises.
"At the end of the day, it's completely your decision, and no one in the world can change that. But-"
He takes a deep breath, and continues.
"I think that you'll regret it every day for the rest of your life if you don't take the incredible opportunity that's been offered to you."
You take a second to process what he's telling you, your mind running at a thousand miles an hour.
"Are you... you're... are you saying I should take the job?"
"Like I said, it's your decision, but... yes. I'm saying you should take the job."
Your eyes well with tears, and you bite your lip to stop them from escaping. Inhaling carefully, you put your hands on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under your palms. He's calm. He's sure. He's collected enough for the both of you.
"What about us?" you ask, barely above a whisper.
"Like you said, baby. I'm your forever." Buck leans in, resting his forehead to yours. "We have time."
"All the time in the world."
You connect your lips to Bucky's softly, testing the waters. He kisses you back with so much feeling, tears slip from your lashes without warning. He's crying too, emotion mixing with yours, dousing you both.
You pull away and wrap your arms around him, curling yourself into his chest. He holds you as tightly as he can, knowing this will be the last time for a long time.
"So you'll go."
"I'll go."
"And I'll stay."
"You'll stay."
"And we'll be okay. No matter what, we'll be okay."
You and Bucky fall asleep in each others arms, cherishing the feeling of home one last time.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The happiness is starting to seep through.
You're devastated to be leaving Bucky behind, but you're trying to look on the bright side. Sunny beaches, new people, your dream job. If you think about the positives for long enough, the Bucky sized hole in your chest hurts a little less.
You're packing up your bookshelf when your phone rings, scaring the life out of you.
"Bitch!"
You know who it is instantly.
"Hi, Lacie."
"Where have you been? Why didn't you answer my text from last night?"
"Shit, sorry. I've been packing. What's up?"
"We're going out tonight. Not just us - all the girls. We're throwing you a goodbye party!"
You groan inwardly, massaging your temples with your fingers.
"A party? Lace, I don't need a party."
"Babe, you do. You really do. It'll be fun! I thought you'd be excited!"
You take a deep breath, and remember what you've been telling yourself. Focus on the positives.
"Okay, fine. Where? What time? What should I wear?"
"I knew you'd say yes! Come to my place at like... six? We can get ready together, like old times! And wear something sexy."
She doesn't wait for you to argue, just hangs up the phone. She knows you too well.
You know it'll be good for you, to see your girlfriends - but the thought of all the goodbyes you're about to say breaks your heart a little more.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"Okay, what the fuck is going on with you?"
You're sat cross legged on Lacie's living room floor, sharing makeup that's scattered across the coffee table. You sip your wine for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse. It's no use.
"I don't know."
"Bullshit."
You turn to look at her.
"What?"
"It's bullshit, babe. Something's going on. You've been given your dream job, and you're moping around like you just got broken up with or something. Why aren't you happy?"
There's no malice in her voice, just pure love. She adores you. You adore her. She's the one person with an outsiders perspective on all of this. So, you cut the act.
"I had my Tethering."
Silence.
She's processing.
"What?!"
"Yeah."
"When? Who? Where? How? Oh my God what is happening? Why didn't you say anything? Fuck, I'm gonna cry. I'm so overwhelmed right now, I'm so happy for you! Wait... are we not happy?"
"It's... complicated."
There's a lump in your throat, but a levity in your heart. A weight has been taken off you. Telling someone the truth has made you feel a little lighter.
"Who is it, babe?"
You take a deep breath, and look her in the eyes.
"Bucky."
Her jaw drops.
"Your... your Dad's best friend Bucky?"
"That's the one."
"Oh. My. Fucking. God."
"Yeah."
"Holy shit."
"Yeah."
"This is complicated."
"Yeah."
"Aw, babe."
She pulls you in for a hug, not caring about the makeup you're smearing across her shirt. You cling to her as tightly as you can, savouring your best friends comfort.
"Does anyone else know?"
"No. We decided not to tell my parents for a while."
"Shit. No wonder you've been so sad lately. You're moving across the country, away from the one person you're supposed to be near."
"It's really hard," you whisper, tears threatening to spill.
"I can't even begin to imagine," she murmurs, holding you close. "I wish you'd told me sooner. We could have talked about it."
"I know," you sniffle. "I thought I could handle it on my own, but I really can't."
"You're not on your own, okay? You have Bucky, and you have me. You can always talk to me about this stuff. God knows I talked your ear off about Cameron."
You laugh softly, thinking back to that day that feels both like yesterday and a million years ago.
"Where is he tonight?"
"Out with his boys. It's good for us to spend a few hours apart."
You smile at the happiness that's radiating off her. She's glowing, beaming in all directions.
"Thanks, Lace. I love you. You know that right?"
"Of course I do. I love you too. So much," she leans forward to kiss your cheek. "Now let's have one hell of a last girls night, shall we?"
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You've lost track of exactly where you are.
You know you're downtown somewhere, in one of the bars. This one smells like wood and whiskey, lowlit and smoky. You hit the cocktail bar first, then the one covered in leopard print, then the monochrome pink one. Now, you're here.
The six of you are sat at a booth, high heels tangled and legs intertwined under the table. The wood is sticky with lemon wedges from tequila shots, salt scattered across the surface.
"If you find any hot west coast men, will you send them my way?" Reese asks, nudging you with her shoulder.
"And if you find any hot west coast women, will you send them mine?"
Everyone laughs, the scent of perfume filling the air.
"Rosa, what happened to Aubrey? We liked her!"
"Caught her kissing my ex girlfriend. So now they're both my ex girlfriends."
"Jesus Christ."
"Man, that's rough," Lacie giggles next to you.
The other girls continue to talk about Aubrey's infidelity as Lacie leans to whisper in your ear.
"Have you said goodbye to Bucky yet?"
You nod.
"Yesterday. I stayed the night, we fell asleep together. Said our goodbyes in the morning. It was awful."
"Love you," she whispers, squeezing your hand under the table.
"Love you too," you reply, squeezing back.
"There's a table of super hot guys over there," Maggie observes, tilting her head in their direction. "Maybe we should conveniently dance that way in a little while."
You don't bother to look over, knowing that none of them will compare to your soulmate. The other girls seem interested, though, so you smile along with them.
"Babe," Sam hisses, kicking you under the table. "There's a hot guy at that table, three o'clock, that keeps staring at you."
You glance over, and your heart stutters in your chest.
Bucky.
His blue eyes pierce your soul, even from across the room. For a moment, it's only the two of you, all the noise forgotten.
You're snapped back to reality by Sam.
"Fuck, he's hot. If you don't want him, I do."
"You should talk to him," Lacie suggests quickly. "Why not, right?"
She's practically pushing you out of the booth, high school wrestler style. In another life, you think, she would have made a good football player. All five foot four of her.
You walk past his table, eyes still locked on him, and towards the bathrooms. You know he'll follow you. You walk to the end of the hallway and out of the door, into the fresh night air.
You feel him appear before you see him. You lean your body against the wall, head resting on the cold brick. Bucky stands in front of you, shirt stretched across his shoulders gorgeously.
"Hi."
"Hi, honey baby."
You smile softly at the nickname.
"What are you doing here?"
"I got dragged to a boys night. What are you doing here?"
"I got dragged to a girls night."
He laughs, and all the tension melts from your muscles.
"Thought we said our goodbyes. I didn't think I'd see you again before I left."
"Me too. But you know the Universe. It hates us."
"Cosmic karma," you whisper.
The two of you stand down the alleyway, looking at each other carefully. Neither of you wants to spook the other person. You'd processed your leaving, said your emotional goodbyes. And now he's here, standing in front of you. You don't want to have to do it all again.
"I should probably get back inside, before the girls get the wrong idea."
"Baby, I followed you to the bathroom. They've already got the wrong idea."
You chuckle, kicking at a rock on the ground.
"Yeah. I don't know how I'm gonna explain this."
A smile. A pause.
"I'll let you get back to your friends, then."
You lean up to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek.
"Bye, Buck."
"Bye, pretty girl."
You push off the wall and walk away towards the door. Suddenly, a warm hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you into a solid chest.
Bucky kisses you like a man possessed. There's nothing gentle about it - just pure, unadulterated passion. It's all teeth and tongue and nipping and biting, neither of you willing to be the first to pull away.
He walks you back into the wall, pushing you against the rough brick. You hike a leg up onto his hip as he grabs your thigh to pull you closer, desperate to feel all of you. Your hands are in his hair, around his neck, tangled in his collar, his shirt, his belt loops. Anything you can get your hands on, you grab.
A distant chorus of cheers break you out of your lust fuelled haze. A bachelorette party walks by, one of the women winking at you as they go. You and Bucky take a step away from each other, straightening out your clothes and fixing your hair.
"Promise me you'll call me if you need anything," Bucky murmurs, leaning to rest his forehead on yours.
"I promise," you whisper, almost against his lips. "Goodbye, Bucky."
"Goodbye, honey girl."
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The salty ocean wind whips through your hair, sun beating down onto your skin, some upbeat pop song humming from the radio. You keep your eyes glued to the road in front of you, begging yourself not to look back. You know if you do, you'll turn the car around and run straight back into Bucky's arms.
Let the happiness seep through, you remind yourself, gripping the steering wheel.
Let the happiness seep through.
tag list part one -
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It's a Challenge
An "It's a Deal" One-Shot
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Words: 1k
Warnings: 18+, smut (or almost), unrealistic sex performance, part of a series.
It's a Deal Masterlist
Masterlist
Author’s Note: Written for the amazing @chase-your-dreams-away No beta and no proof-reading, but written with love.
“Come again, sweetheart?”
There he is, in an unsuspecting Saturday morning, wearing only a pair of black boxers as clothing, heading to the kitchen to fetch you some water and a little bite, when he hears the words that makes him stop in his tracks. He has just given you four orgasms almost in a row and figured his pretty girl needed some refreshments to start the day after he had used a warm washcloth to gently clean the last of the pleasure from her sated body.
Or as sated as he thought it would be, it seems.
“You heard me just fine, old man.” You stretch your limbs in an adorably exaggerated way before turning over on the mattress to lie on your stomach. Bucky’s gaze travels over your skin and a low sound comes out of his lungs at the view of your round and perfect ass. You you’re your head on a hand to look at him where he stands by the door of your room.
Oh, he did hear you. He heard you just fine. But he needed to see that pretty little mouth of yours moving again to say one more time what made him stop on his tracks. He says nothing. Just bites his lower lip and leans himself with his metal hand on the doorframe. Stares at you. And waits.
He bites his lip harder at the sound of your snort and the playful roll of your eyes. Damn, he loves you.
“What I said,” Bucky catches how hard you’re trying to hold back a mischievous smile, “Is that life as a couple must be wearing on you. We never got to come even close to our record again.”
Ah, there it is. Bucky’s eyebrows furrow and he squints at you, tilting his head at the words and the clear challenge in them. You have the good sense to look a little nervous when the tiniest of smiles curls his lips and he leans away from the door.
He knows what you’re talking about. That night when the two of you still had that deal of yours. The best deal he made in his life. To be completely at your service, to be there for you whenever you wanted him. In your bed.
Or his…
Or at the back of an empty alley…
Anywhere else that would suit you, really.
He bites back the urge to laugh at the only rule you had at the time. No falling in love.
A lifetime ago.
And he knows which night you’re talking about specifically.
The night when you were curious about how many times you could reach orgasm using him and his inexhaustible source of stamina as a … human dildo… that’s what you called him if he remembers correctly. He was more than pleased to accept the challenge then… and he certainly wouldn’t balk from the current one laced at your words.
25 is the number he knows it’s on your mind.
He chuckles darkly when your eyes ever so slightly widen at the slow and poised pace he uses to walk back to you. His gaze never leaving yours.
You bite your lip when he comes close and drops to his knees on the floor beside you. Putting on his most serious face, he cups your chin, fixing your gaze on him.
“Take a look at what you do to me, sweeatheart.”
You whimper when you glance down to where you know he wants you to. He’s already hard. Has been ever since the formidable little words left that sinful mouth of yours.
“I hope you have no weekend plans other than have me inside you.” He leans in to brush his lips against your ear as you swallow, “Licking you.” His tongue darts out to lick the shell of your ear. You shudder. “Kissing you.” His lips trail to your neck, your skin hot from the contact. “Touching you in the most unholy ways you can think of…” He brings a hand to grab a handful of your ass, loving how your breath hitches. “Not until we double that little number that’s on your mind now.”
“Bucky!” You let out a startle cry, leaning back to widen your eyes at him.
“Shhhh,” He pulls your neck to his lips again and and slide his other hand in to feel your pussy from behind. A groan rumbles his chest when he feels the little vixen is once again wet.
No other words come out from your parted lips and he senses your eyes fluttering shut at his touch. You reach down to dip your hand under the fabric of his boxers and he lets you, licking your neck when you wrap your soft fingers around him.
“But first,” he says, leaning back from your neck and marking his firm words with a slap on your ass that makes you shudder and whimper in sheer pleasure. “Water and breakfast. My girls is not a super soldier as her magnificent boyfriend after all.” He covers your hand on his cock with his metal one and guides it on a deliberately slow motion down its entire length to make his point clear.
It takes all of his strenght to part from you right now, but his grin is broad when he leans back and stands, ceasing all kinds of touch, leaving you as hot and bothered as he wanted before he swiftly turns to fetch what he just promised you.
One more time, he halts at the door when he hears you speaking from behind him.
“Just so you know, we’re not counting those first four.”
His grin turns even wider.
Fuck… he loves you.
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what i’ve been reading lately !
a compilation of fics ive been reading the past couple weeks, multiple from the same authors but i figured i would include my faves and you can check the rest of their works out :))
they’re all fluff or angst fics :)
————————————————
close call and bad puns - @skaye44
flirty!bucky | fluff
metal arm brrr - @bombsonboard
grumpy!bucky | fluff
off limits - @ellemj
mafia!bucky | fluff + implied smut
a touch of softness - @rookthorne
nurse!bucky | fluff
damnit steve - @skaye44
idiots in love | fluff
home is where the heart is - @rookthorne
cute farmer!bucky | fluff + implied smut
lead us to temptation @asphalt-cocktail
religious reader ! | fluff + smut
happy birthday, jamie - @kittybeansbarnes
birthday boy bucky :’) | FLUFF
hypothetically speaking -@littleseasiren
fluff.
someone’s calling my name (it sounds like you) -@mellowsaturns
angst | hurt/comfort
this has to be perfect - @oneofstarkskids
birthday bucky fluff
don’t tell bucky - @lives-in-midgard
drunk reader fluff
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Part 1
Summary: Maybe the relationships worth fighting for were the ones in which you had to fight the hardest.
Pairing: Mob!Bucky x y/n
Word Count: 1.8k
Warnings: Language, vague references to violence, light public wankery
Author’s Note: This one has been sitting in my inbox for literal years so I hope you’re still in an angsty mood after all this time. Was meant to be a oneshot but hey I got carried away what can I say.
---
Three loud knocks hammered against your door. It made you jump every time he did that, you were used to your guests ringing the buzzer.
You checked the time as you hurried across the length of your cramped apartment, cursing under your breath when you saw that it was almost nine. Him finishing work this late was never good news. Whatever had happened, whether it be another drawn out meeting or an unplanned, after-hours assignment, it would almost definitely have left him in a shitty mood.
You sighed. It used to be that bad days for him were few and far between, now they seemed to outnumber the good ones.
Sliding the chain off and turning the lock, your heart sank when you pulled the door backwards and caught sight of his miserable expression. You wished so much that there was more you could do to uplift him when he felt like this but, short of marching into his office and scolding his colleagues as if they were suave-suited school children, you were helpless. All you could do was try to help him take his mind off things.
“Hey, Hot Shot.”
He managed to summon a weak but warm smile, planting a kiss on your temple as he shuffled past. “Hey. The crazy newspaper lady let me in again.”
“I figured,” you pushed the door shut and followed him inside, “did she give you another fistful of clippings?”
“Whatta you think?”
He stuffed a hand into his pocket and set down a few scrunched up papers on the coffee table before dropping onto the couch. With a smirk, you picked them up and smoothed them out, scanning your eyes over the headlines.
“Bless her, she always saves the business stories for you.”
“Yeah, why is that?”
“Probably ‘cause you’re always in a suit and I’m always referring to you as Hot Shot.”
“You talk to her?”
Realising your mistake, you stopped absentmindedly thumbing through the clippings, lifted your gaze to his and shrugged. “Occasionally.”
He narrowed his eyes. You knew exactly what he was thinking. He didn't like the idea of you going near her, he thought it wasn’t safe, probably thought you’d end up locked in her apartment and chopped into tiny pieces that she’d save and use as bullion cubes.
So now probably wasn’t the best time to bring up your weekly visits to her apartment for coffee and cake.
Sure, she was a little intimidating to look at, with her wild eyes and deep, sunken cheeks, but she was a sweetheart really. She’d started tearing up newspapers in the downstairs lobby after her husband died a few years ago. He loved his morning reading and she loved clipping out his favourite stories and saving them for him, apparently doing it for other people was the only thing keeping her going now she was alone. You just wished you could think of a way to explain all that to Bucky without incurring his paranoia.
His glare wasn’t letting up. You knew if you didn’t swiftly change the subject there was a danger he might start trying to convince you to move into his much nicer, much bigger and much safer apartment again. As much as you appreciated the offer, it had taken so much for you to move to the city on your own, and you weren’t ready to give up your independence just yet. You were happy the way things were.
You cut in as soon as he opened his mouth to speak.
“Rough day?”
His head collapsed backwards. “Mhmm.”
“Anything I can do?”
“Nah, s’alright, just seemed like everyone was out to piss me off.”
“Can’t say I blame ‘em.”
He chuckled gruffly as you flopped down beside him, his arm moving to cradle your shoulders and hug you tight to his side. “Have you eaten?”
“I was waiting for you.”
“You wanna order pizza?”
“Definitely.”
You leaned forward and rustled around for the takeout menu in your coffee table junk drawer. Bucky shifted slightly, out the corner of your eye you could see him starting to dig the fingers on his free hand into his knee. He cleared his throat nervously before speaking again.
“Can I pay this time?”
“We’ll split it.”
“Are you sure? I really don’t mind-”
“Buck.” You gave him a look as you dropped the menu in his lap. “We’ll split it.”
He didn’t push back. You’d gotten pretty good at standing your ground out of necessity because, if Bucky got his way, you’d never be allowed to spend a single dollar. He earned a lot more than you, a helluva lot more, but you still preferred to keep things equal. You got by just fine.
The two of you settled in on the couch together. He hustled downstairs when the buzzer sounded and you demolished the pizza in front of the TV, enjoying the peace of each other's company, chuckling at whatever shitty reality show was on at 9pm on a weeknight.
Despite his best efforts, though, it was obvious that something still wasn’t quite right with him. He needed some help unwinding.
“Hey, you wanna hear something funny? It might cheer you up.”
His head lolled towards you, a wide smile creeping over his lips. “Go on.”
“So, at work this afternoon, Judy was doing her rounds upstairs when she noticed a guy tucked in the corner by adult fiction. It’s pretty routine to get the odd embarrassed reader trying to hide away up there but apparently he was grunting like a professional tennis player , her words.”
“Jesus.”
“Mhmm. So she called the cops and they hustled up there, apparently he’d been jerking off in the aisle to a fucking Mills & Boon novel called The Dark Duke . We had to get the janitor to get rid of it in a biohazard bag, poor guy. He’ll probably call in sick tomorrow from the trauma.” You were laughing through your words but, when you looked over at Bucky, an incredibly stern face was looking back. “C’mon, you gotta admit that’s funny.”
“It’s not funny that you’re around creeps like that every day.”
“This city is full of creeps, just so happens that a few of them have library cards.” You flashed your eyebrows at him, he didn’t even crack a smile. “Jesus, Buck, you don’t think you’re taking this a little too seriously?”
“No, I don’t.”
The two of you fell into silence. His eyes flicked away from you for a second, his expression suddenly becoming resolute. You could see the words forming in his throat. You knew exactly what was coming.
“You really need to think about coming to work at my place.”
You jumped up from the couch. “I can’t have this conversation again.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re already in a shitty mood and me making the same argument I’ve made a thousand times before isn’t gonna help.”
You picked up the empty pizza box and trudged through to the kitchen, hoping that would be the end of it.
It wasn’t, unfortunately, because he decided it was smart to jump up and follow you like an irritating child.
“I just don’t get why you won’t take it. It’s better money, better hours and we’ll practically be-”
“Practically be working together yeah, I know, I’ve heard this speech before and the answer is the same. Thank you, but I’m happy where I am.”
“You wanna work in a fuckin’ library forever?”
You threw the box down on the counter and swivelled round to face him. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Talk about my choices like that, like you know better.”
“Jesus, I’m just tryna’ look out for you.”
You shook your head, in disbelief that you’d been dragged into this argument once again. “Whatever.”
“Is that it?”
“I honestly don’t know what you want from me, Buck.”
“I want to know why you’d rather stay in a shitty job and a shitty apartment than have something better.”
“Because I don’t want to work for your fucking father, alright?”
His face dropped. You realised that your words had come out with much more venom than intended but, in all fairness, this had been building up for a while. You’d been with Bucky long enough to know what kind of business his family was in and you wanted no part of it. Your love for him had helped you move past your unease about what he did for a living, because you knew with utmost certainty that he was a good man at heart, but you couldn’t say the same for the rest of them. You wouldn’t allow yourself to get dragged in too.
He clenched his jaw for a second before biting his cheeks, his head slowly beginning to nod, anger rising in his face. You just waited. Anyone else might have been scared of him in this moment, of how he seemed to be coiling up like a threatened snake ready to strike, but you weren’t. He’d never given you any reason to be.
His mouth fell open but quickly snapped closed before any distinguishable words could escape. With a loud huff, he stormed away, yanking his jacket from the couch as he passed and tearing your front door open.
You saw him hesitate in the corridor for a second. He brushed his hand over his hair before suddenly lashing out, striking the side of his fist against the doorframe. The whole wall shuddered.
“Whoa, hey.” You hurried over and reached for his shoulder. “That looked like it hurt, are you-”
He grabbed you.
Your eyes locked with his, you’d never seen him this angry before. In fact, you were so caught up in his warped expression that it actually took you a few seconds to feel his grip, to feel how tightly he was squeezing and how his fingertips dug into the space between the veins and tendons in your wrist. You frantically looked down at his white-knuckled hand and tried to yank yourself free, hoping that any amount of resistance would encourage him to release. He didn’t let go. You looked back up at him.
No words were exchanged, but you saw in his face the moment he realised he was hurting you. The redness in his cheeks seemed to drain away in an instant, leaving behind a deathly paleness that highlighted how quickly the tension dissolved from the muscles in his jaw and forehead.
He let go.
With panic thumping in your chest, you quickly stepped backwards and slammed the door. You sheltered behind it, frozen, as he softly knocked against the wood and apologised over and over again.
You stayed there until you heard him walk away.
---
Part 2
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Permanent Taglist: @touchstarvedforbuckybarnes @sjsmith56
Join my taglist here
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Midnight Literature Conversations
Authors Note- If this reaches 100 likes, I'll make a part 2
⚠️ Warnings: Nothing! Pure fluff 😊 English is not my first language so please do not hesitate to let me know if I have any grammar faults.
Pairings- Bucky Barnes x Fem reader
Word Count: 460
Twisting and turning in bed for hours on end had finally convinced me that I wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight. So I decided to go down to the compound kitchen and bake. Baking was my comfort. I always baked a heartfelt banana cake or made a bunch of chocolate chip muffins when I was down.
Reluctantly getting out of bed and putting on my gown, I trudged out of my room, down the hallway to the kitchen. Turning on the dimmed lights, I spotted a figure sitting at the island counter. Upon closer inspection, and rubbing away the sleep from my eyes. I realised it was Bucky.
He had never talked to me. And I had never talked to him either. Steve always told me that he would speak up when he was ready, but since it had been over a month that Bucky had moved into the compound, I just assumed he hated me.
Without another word. I grabbed the milk, eggs and butter from the fridge, setting them down on the table. Along with the flour, apples and cinnamon. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I quickly googled an apple and cinnamon muffin recipe.
Every now and then, I caught Bucky looking up from his book, and eyeing me as I was mixing the ingredients, and making the batter. Eventually, I put the muffins in the oven to bake and sat down next to him.
“What book are you reading?” I spoke up, in a whisper.
“The Hobbit” He replied with a blank expression.
“You into the classics, huh” I said, surprised at his choice of literature.
“I read it when it first came out, in 1937. But it wasn't available in Brooklyn, where I'm originally from. So I had it imported from Cape Town in South Africa. And I managed to get one of the first 100 signed copies.” He responded enthusiastically.
“Wow. So you really like reading.” I added, not expecting the ex super soldier to be so talkative. Especially towards me.
“Yeah. It's my comfort thing. When I have nightmares or if I just want to shut the world out. I read.”
Suddenly leaping up from my seat next to Bucky. I walked over to the oven to take the muffins out. Placing the hot tray on the table, I grabbed a plate from the draw and placed a muffin on it. Sliding the plate over to Bucky.
“You should try it. It might be a bit hot but I'm sure you'll like it. The others love my baking. Especially Sam, He seems to really love my Chocolate Scrolls” I laughed off as I walked back to my room. Looking back for only a second to catch the super soldier smiling back at me.
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Arranged-nine
Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death.
Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.
Authors Note: Tags for this will be open, just shoot me a message or comment if you're interested!
Tags: @alexxavicry @mdpplgtz03 @broadwaybabe18 @samsgirl93 @cherryflavoureds-blog @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @clqrosmgc @loumaaria-blog @queerqueenlynn @pampeop @cjand10 @purplerain85 @savannahcole99
Arranged Masterlist
The smell of coffee was trapped in my nose as I poured two full cups before setting the pot back, a smile on my face. Thoughts of last night kept replaying in my mind and I haven’t been able to stop smiling since I woke up a bit ago.
Bucky had returned home last night sometime after midnight and let me know with a soft kiss to the forehead before retreating back into his room. When I awoke this morning, there was a note from him saying he had a meeting right away at 10 am but was free the rest of the day so we could do whatever I wanted.
The only thing I wanted to do was pick up where we left off last night before Steve interrupted.
With both mugs in hand, I quickly made my way down the long hallway towards Bucky’s office, knowing I had a few minutes before his meeting and figured he would like a warm cup of coffee to start it.
The door was open so with a soft knock, I walked in only to freeze in place at what I had seen.
There was one man who I had remembered seeing outside of the lab the other day holding open a briefcase that held 10 vials of some kind of blue liquid.
Dr. Banner, I remember Bucky and Steve calling him that.
There was another man, darker skin than the rest, and he stood behind Banner with a hand ghosting over the gun on his hip.
Steve and Bucky were standing across from the two men, them each holding a vial of the liquid. When I walked into the room, both of their eyes landed onto me. Anger filled Bucky’s eyes and he hurriedly placed the vial back into the briefcase before slamming it shut.
His jaw glanced while lips snarled in anger, eyes cutting deep into me.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” Bucky asked.
I held up the cups of coffee before setting them down on his desk. “I thought you would want some before your meeting. Clearly it started earlier than you said.”
Bucky gripped my elbow and led me into the hallway, spewing curses falling from his lips.
“Did you even bother to check the door?” He snapped.
I ripped my arm out of his grasp and placed my weight onto my left foot. “Yes, it was wide open and I even knocked before coming in.”
“Go upstairs, I’ll talk to you later.”
I sliced my eyes into him. “Are you going to tell me what I just walked into?”
Bucky grasped my wrist and began leading me towards the stairs which only made me more furious and this time, I yanked myself free while pushing him back slightly.
“Don’t you put your hands on me again!” I pointed a finger at him.
He ran a hand over his face. “Y/N, I’m not saying it again. Go upstairs. NOW!”
I jumped slightly at the sudden change in his voice but didn’t let it phase me.
“Is it drugs? Is that what this whole secrecy is because you’re selling or buying drugs?” I questioned with my arms over my chest. “Was your guy going to shoot the doctor after he gave you those vials? Got what you wanted so now you don’t need him anymore?”
“It’s none of your business,” Bucky began.
“The hell it isn't!” I snapped, my voice without a doubt being heard by the men in his office. “You brought me into this mess the second we signed the papers!”
It had only been a few days but I was already sick of the lies and secrets, I needed Bucky to tell me the truth on what he’s into. I was his wife now.
“Why did you even sign them?!” Bucky wondered, hands on his hips. “You hesitated signing them.”
“Oh my god,” I pinched my eyes shut, a sudden headache rattling my brain. “It was nothing, Bucky; nerves.”
“Bullshit! Why did you hesitate?” Bucky drilled the question again.
“Because I don’t want this!” I screamed. “I wanted to marry someone I love, someone that I can see having a family with. Someone that doesn’t hide shit from me. And someone that doesn’t fucking kill people for a living!”
Bucky’s eyes flashed with hatred at my words. “You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”
I scoffed while standing on my toes. “I thought that after last night we were finally in a good place. I was starting to feel something for you. How fucking wrong I was.”
He sliced his eyes into me. “What kind of woman needs her parents to set her up in a marriage? How pathetic. I’m starting to think I should have found the first broad I found in the city and married her. At least she would give me what I want.”
My heart shattered, falling into the depths of my stomach and I could feel the corner of my eyes well up. But I refused to let him know that his words cut deep. The Bucky from last night was nowhere in sight. This one was meaner and I suddenly wanted nothing to do with this one.
“Go fuck yourself, Bucky. We might be married now but that doesnt mean I have to be seen with you,” I seethed.
With another shake of my head, I left him to go back to whatever he had been doin prior in his office; tears falling freely over my cheeks.
Silence.
That's all that was heard throughout the large home for the last couple of days, me being the only one here. After our huge fight, Bucky left for a business trip, Barb’s words. She was here the first day he left but I told her she didn’t need to stay for me and gave her the rest of the week off.
Something she was grateful for.
Steve had to go with Bucky, meaning that if I were to go out it would be on my own without any protection. Which really didn’t matter to me because I ended up being held up in my room. He had sent me a text earlier today to let me know that he would be arriving back home tonight. I didn’t even bother to reply.
There were some hurtful things hurled by the both of us and it wasn’t something I was going to sweep under the rug. I would be willing to apologize, only if he was as well.
My phone began to buzz on my table and I answered it with a groan, not bothering to check who was calling.
“Well hello to you too, dear. Rough day?”
I sat up in bed more and sighed. “Hi mom. Sorry, I was asleep.”
“Oh sorry for waking you. I just wanted to check in and see how marriage life is going?”
“Great,” I lied, not bothering to tell her about the fight. I didn’t want her to think things weren’t great.
Even if they weren’t.
“Good! Your father and I knew Bucky was the right choice for you, you two complement each other so well.”
I shook my head. “Mom, do you even know who he is?”
“He owns the laboratory in town. All the papers say he’s been finding the next cure for some kind of sickness, ya know? He’s such a good man, Y/N.”
“Look, I’m tired and don’t really feel like talking right now. Can I call you later?” I asked.
“Sweetheart, everything alright? Because if it’s not, you can talk to me.”
I scoffed. “No offense mom but the reason why I’m feeling like this is because you guys forced me to marry this complete stranger who you know nothing about! I barely know him and you and dad practically threw me into his arms. Did you even ask if he wanted this? Because he fucking doesnt!”
“Watch your language, Y.N! I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.”
I squeezed my eyes shut while pressing a hand to my forehead. “I’m really not in the mood to deal with this shit now.”
Before I could hear my mom yell some more, I hung up the phone and tossed it into the drawer of the table next to me. The last thing I wanted at this moment was to deal with her disappointment in the fact that I wasn’t giving this marriage a try.
I went back to the book that I had almost forgotten I was reading before the phone call and let the rest of the night pass with no other issues, that was until Bucky returned home. With my open door, I heard Bucky ascend the stairs, letting out a deep breath once he reached the top. I peaked over the top of my book and looked out into the hallway where Bucky stood with his hands deep into his pockets, tired eyes staring at me.
Even if I was upset with him, he still looked breathtaking in his black sweats with a matching sweater. His usual combed back hair was a mess, strands falling all into his face due to the traveling. His whole aura screamed ‘cuddle with me’ but I needed to hold my composure; I wouldn’t fold first.
My eyes returned back to my book and I heard Bucky let out another deep sigh before he disappeared into his room, the door slamming behind him.
Some time had passed and my eyelids became heavy, sleep slowly overtaking my body and I set the book down, ready to close my eyes and forget about the last week. My phone, however, began ringing non stop in the drawer next to me. I ignored it, thinking it was my mom again, but when it rang for a third time, I knew that it had to have been something more important.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hi, is this Mrs. Barnes?”
My heart flipped. It had been the first time I heard myself being called that.
“Uh, yeah. Who is this?”
“This is Detective Roth with the NYPD. We’re calling on behalf of your parents.”
I sat up in bed with a quick start. “Are they alright?”
“No, I’m sorry. They’re bodies were found in their homes just a few minutes ago. We believed that they were murdered.”
The detective's voice had become white noise as my brain began processing the new information.
My parents were dead?
Murdered?
In their own home?
I then remembered the phone call I had with my mom just an hour ago and I let out a strangled sob, realizing that was our last conversation. My bottom lip trembled as I let out a shaky breath before the tears began to fall, droplets falling onto the blanket and a loud sob choked its way out of my throat. Tears collected into my eyelashes, and I swatted them away.
“No!” I wailed, tossing the phone across the room. “NO!”
Sobs attacked my entire body as I writhed underneath the blanket, the pain overtaking me as I continued to scream.
“Doll?”
Bucky’s voice was muffled through my sobs and he was blurred due to the tears filling my eyes.
“What’s going on?”
Bucky was in my bed in an instant, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his chest. I grasped at hsi shirt, tears staining it immediately. I sobbed, loudly, as I tried to tell him what happened.
He hushed my cries with a kiss to my hairline and rubbed circles on my back, hoping it would calm me.
“What happened, Y/N?” Bucky asked once more.
I looked up at him, tears falling from my swollen eyes. “My parents are dead. Someone killed them.”
Sobs broke out of me again as my body writhed in his grasp and I buried my face back into Bucky’s chest. I hadn’t noticed the large scowl that came to his face as he wrapped his arms even tighter around me.
“It’s alright, doll. I’m here.” Bucky cooed into my ear.
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I lack the wisdom required to write this fic, but I hope someone skilled enough takes the initiative to.
Have any of you ever thought about Steve Rogers waking up from the ice and not going back to fighting?
He wakes up, Fury tells him he needs him, and Steve makes a choice for himself and says no, at least for now. Fury respects that choice, Steve gets a therapist (a good one, not Dr. Christina Passive-Aggressive Raynor) and uses his second chance in life to do the things he actually wanted to. Art. History. Maybe he goes to college again.
On top of all this, he figures out the internet (come on, he's a smart man. He's not gonna be clueless forever) and you know golden boy Steve would jump at the chance of using social media for a good cause.
And I also think Steve would be great at debates. The fucker (affectionate) has a way with words. He's also a nerd. He's well informed and has quick thinking skills. He gets into online fights a lot. Tweets and retweets a hell lot.
Gets Tumblr. (Steve would love tumblr don't lie to me) Reblogs things like it's his last day on earth. (But somehow makes sure to utilise the tag feature perfectly so everything is organised).
Some dudebro makes a misogynistic comment and he's there to verbally drop kick Dudebro into the next week.
Somebody makes an offhand comment regarding something historical and Steve gets his trusty motorcycle and drives his star spangled fine ass to the library and the next day there's a video circulating the internet of him citing sources (down the page number, paragraph number and line number) to prove why the offhand comment was grossly incorrect.
Someone angrily reposts his tweet saying "THAT IS NOT THE AMERICA OF MY DREAMS TALKING" and Steve proceeds to respond with "I'm a person. I can't be a country. What I can try to be is a good human being." and then absolutely demolishes the other person. (Yes to Steve reclaiming himself as Steve Rogers and not Captain America)
He also posts art. Like, everyday. But it gets slightly overshadowed by everything else he does and says.
He has a separate Instagram. For more personal stuff. Pictures of himself? Rarely. Pictures of birds and animals and trees and sunrises and sunsets? Absolutely. Pictures of the cat and the dog he rescued and now is a proud dad to? Everyday. (He's definitely a both person.) Maybe someday he'll step out of his comfort zone and start going live. Everyone loves him. Everyone rational, that is.
He stays away from tiktok.
2014. Fury shows up at his apartment and gets shot. Something stirs in Steve's brain as the masked assassin catches his shield. Those eyes seem familiar. Despite his reservations, he jumps back into the fray. The whole CATWS thing happens.
He finds Bucky. Brings him home. Fights tooth and nail for the charges against him to be dropped. He's got 70 years of military back-pay, he's got no problem getting the best lawyers (Matt Murdock is definitely among them) for the love of his life.
Anyways Bucky is set free. Moves in with Steve. People start gushing over him too. He stays out of Steve's internet life at first, but then the old Bucky comes back little by little. Maybe he'll join the livestreams. Maybe he'll make an Instagram of his own to post more of Steve.
People, being people, start shipping them. The two of them have a good laugh over it.
One day, out of nowhere, Steve shows up on one of his livestreams wearing a wedding ring. Comments go crazy. Bucky joins him on the couch, throws an arm around his shoulder, flashing his own matching band, smirking lazily.
The rest is mayhem. But they don't care. For Steve, life is perfect.
[I'd love to see Steve Rogers vs internet troll he'd eat that up]
I hope the good Steve Rogers authors see this. This has potential I think.
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spite her, spite me (7) | bucky x avenger!reader
summary: Steve’s silly joke happened to inspire the best, or possibly the worst, idea Wanda had ever come up with — send James Buchanan Barnes and y/n on an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii. the problem? they cannot stand to be around each other.
warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, explicit language, alcohol consumption, sarcastic!bucky, smut MDI
word count: 8,485
author's note: i cannot believe we reached the end — thank you for all of the comments and the love you've showed this series, it truly means the world! also, i don't know how the nsfw section stretched to be over 2k words and now i'm rethinking every smutty fic i've ever written
WHERE DREAMS GO TO DIE masterlist
series’ SPOTIFY playlist
“The dress is a bit much,” the sergeant’s eyes raked over her gown.
The intricately beaded dress was black, and sensual, and outrageous, with a deep slit, which exposed most of y/n’s upper thigh. She might’ve seemed like an angel in devil’s clothing to those of unsuspecting eyes, but James understood better. The woman was a fallen saint, and as he committed the image to memory, he had decided that she was placed on this earth solely to tempt him in every way she could. Their story was never destined to be comforting, and easy, no, the story of James and y/n would always be difficult, complex, and shamefully sinful.
“It seems Maui had been harsh on you, James,” she spoke, “otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”
The cool touch of his metal arm brushed against y/n’s skin when he took a step forward, coming to stand beside her. It was bothersome, the closeness of his body as they observed the gala’s guests unsuspectingly dancing, drinking, or conversing about matters they had deemed important.
There was only a single matter on her mind y/n considered meaningful, and she had not seen him for the entirety of the night. Steve had been a nimble shadow, shaking hands with the leaders and first ladies of the world.
“Perhaps, I was wrong,” the word felt foreign on his tongue, “and HYDRA ceased to exist.”
She angled her face to read his expression, but it was aggravatingly blank, “how’d you figure that out, Sherlock?”
James noticed the sarcasm in her tone and nearly chose to ignore it, “reviewed some files, checked a couple databases,” possibly hacked into Sam’s iCloud to read the texts between you two. "Have any more theories you’d like to share?”
She chuckled, then chuckled again from the bewilderment before breaking into a boisterous laugh; it couldn’t have been more disingenuous if she tried. “Why should I if the Winter Soldier will only trample on my ideas?”
Though the dimly lit ballroom overflowed with chatter and soft sounds of jazz, a tense stillness settled between them. The looming threat of Steve’s assassination was not a time for games and stubbornness, and James was frustrated at the spy’s thorny attitude.
“The Winter Soldier was blinded by bloodlust, but he’s ready to hear out his partner,” Bucky replied with a deep sigh, hoping she’d crack.
“Oh, we’re partners now?” The clench of his jaw didn’t go unnoticed, and she begrudgingly dropped the act. “Back when we attended Elijah’s yacht party, Mark was wary of you hence the fish tend to be vigilant around James comment. I might forget a name, but I always remember a face.” This time, she angled her entire body to face him. “Mark attended a gala in Germany a couple years prior, Steve had me monitoring the security cameras for hours then, and nothing was particularly interesting except for Mark and Wilfred Nagel’s unlikely friendship.”
“Shit,” his flesh arm clasped around her forearm, “ Nagel’s the doctor CIA had recruited before he seemingly disappeared into thin air.”
“Bingo,” she replied with a popping sound. “The accusations against Elijah, Mark’s presence on the boat, and the conversation between him and Wilfred months before Wilfred’s disappearance had me conceptualizing a theory of Mark and Elijah working alongside Nagel to produce super-soldiers.” A server boy approached the couple, and she promptly replaced her empty champagne flute with a fresh glass. “I’d assume Captain America would ruin those plans."
“The theory’s still blurry,” James released the grip on her arm, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles of his black suit. “If they’re plotting to execute Steve, why wouldn’t they assassinate me as well?”
She drank him in — the sergeant’s black suit was made of satin, alike the dress shirt, matching her onyx gown. Perhaps he had willingly chosen to abstain from a tie, or perhaps, he had been too headstrong to admit she had been correct about HYDRA, subjecting James to a lack of time for elaborate preparations. She decided it must’ve been the latter, for Bucky had worn the outfit to a party Natasha had organized after the court had pardoned his crimes.
“They could,” she agreed, “but they wouldn’t because you’ve been forgiven and have since retired, remember? The Winter Soldier enjoys a peaceful life away from criminals, Avengers, and fights.”
“The sucker has a wife too,” James gawked into y/n’s eyes, and she tittered at his attempt at a joke. “She looks good tonight.”
The glimmer in his expression she couldn’t understand.
She took a swig of champagne, peering at James over the flute for a single awkward moment too long, “was that a compliment?”
“It should’ve been,” he pursed his lips together.
James was allowed to feel frustrated, angry, and disappointed about y/n’s actions, he had decided after she had packed up and hastily abandoned the honeymoon. The woman had betrayed him by hiding significant information and biting her tongue on theories of HYDRA and its remains. Worse, she had fled Maui without as much as a goodbye, leaving James to sleep in the bed, angrily alone. Though his appetite had been ruined, he had chosen to order room service and watch terrible TV shows she had recommended to Wanda in the prior months. The sheets had been tainted with the scent of y/n’s perfume and lotion, a delicious blend of strawberry and vanilla. The Lovers’ Suite had been scattered with traces of her, and when he had ditched the room at last, deep into the night, even the beach had seemed to remind James of the bizarre yet pleasant memories they had shared. He wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, but he had begun missing y/n’s presence, prickly remarks, and the pointless arguments over the smallest of things.
“Steve’s backstage," Sam’s voice was a muffled sound through the earpiece.
She took a step forward, using Bucky’s body to shield herself from possibly prying eyes. “What about Mark Basso?”
James paled at the closeness of their bodies, but remained professional, examining the ballroom of feasible threats.
“I can’t find him, the dude’s been a ghost for the entire night, but,” there was a pause in his speech, “Elijah Williamson is backstage,” she could hear Sam drum his fingers on a metal surface, “they’ve been conversing for a good while.” A second passed before his words reached y/n’s ears once more. “Are you certain Mark’s appearance at the party is enough to incarcerate him?”
The woman recognized she should inform Sam of the situation without excluding certain details, and yet she couldn’t. If Sam understood the gravity of Elijah’s gala plans, he’d abandon monitoring the security cameras and would certainly place himself in danger to save the Captain. She needed the footage of the events that were to occur backstage, for she had already deceived James, allowing the soldier to believe HYDRA continued to exist.
The eight months they had spent together, unraveling Elijah’s life, had been honest, on y/n’s part, but the last five days had not. James had pursued false leads and theories, and she had let him. Sam might punish her with a harsh lecture, move to live on Natasha’s floor or stop coming to Friday’s Tequila Nights at Barry’s if he discovered y/n’s incomplete truths, but it’d be worth it, for he’d be in the security room in case Mark had planned to delete the footage. James deserved peace, and she craved to ease his mind two criminals at a time. A former HYDRA officer and a corrupt politician behind bars was a good start to rid of the nasty organization and its remains.
“The man’s a HYDRA operative,” she reminded, clutching James’ hand to lead him through the crowd of guests, “who just happens to be identified as deceased,” y/n maneuvered around people, dodging staff members and unsuspecting bystanders, “imagine the headlines and the public’s fear when it’ll get revealed the US government missed a dead man walking after the program to incarcerate security threats was implemented.” A corrupt program for a corrupt country. “President Ross would imprison Mark just to save face.”
The pair soon found themselves backstage. The stage was narrow much like the hallways, and though the space had plenty of overhead LED lights, it was painted a pitch-black color, and the confusing maze of corridors, entrances, and clothing racks seemed rather murky. She hauled James into the women’s bathroom and hurriedly locked the door. The soldier had seen women dragging men into bathrooms at clubs and parties. He was old, but he wasn’t dead — James understood what a couple would do in a bathroom together hence his confusion and reddened cheeks.
She raked her eyes over his face, “we’re not having sex, Barnes.”
“Is it because Steve needs saving or,” the smallest of smirks danced on his lips as James observed y/n step on the toilet to open a vent, “is it because you want our first time to be special?” Amusement colored his tone.
She threw a miffed glare toward him before continuing to rummage in the outlet, “do you actually believe I burn with lust for you?”
“Yes,” Bucky caught a pale yellow gym bag after she tossed it at him, “surely did during the honeymoon.”
“We’ll always have Maui,” she smiled with faux sweetness, stepping off the toilet and on the sparkling white tiles.
The smirk dropped from his lips at the comment because he had been open, honest then, and she just teased him about it. If time allowed for it, she might’ve apologized, guilt beginning to claw at her heart, but she ignored the strange emotion.
“Sam,” she pressed a finger on the earpiece before squatting down to search in the sack, “James is with me,” y/n found an additional earpiece, standing up and taking a step forward to gently attach the gadget onto the soldier, “do you have eyes on Steve?”
“Yes,” the Falcon murmured, audibly upset by Bucky’s presence. “James, hi,” he spoke through the intercom, “y/n, didn’t you say you'd leave the tin-man in Hawaii?”
“Obviously, I failed,” she replied, earning a soft smack from James on the shoulder, “when does the charity auction start?”
“It should begin in fifteen minutes,” Sam spoke, inspecting the view on the monitors, “an incredible date with Amelie Barnes, a gorgeous New York City socialite, is fifth on the list to be auctioned, seven offers before the old-fashioned date with the handsome Captain America.”
She glanced up at James, studying his bewildered expression. “There might be a few things you’ve missed,” y/n grinned in faux innocence before promptly clarifying, "we needed access to the backstage areas. Do you have a gun?”
“No,” James begrudgingly admitted, ashamed to have missed a crucial detail in his attire.
The pair stood in front of each other without a sliver of space in between. She didn’t give herself a minute to think the action through, resting her hands on his chest as she hastily lowered into a squatting position to reach the bag. James sucked in a breath as y/n’s hands slid across the length of his body. She rested a single palm on his upper thigh for balance while she retrieved a set of pistols, but just before his mind had enough time to register the sudden stimulation, she arose, clutching his flesh bicep to steady herself.
“Tuck it into the waistba—“
“Alright,” James interrupted her, “I’ve done this before.”
She let go of his shoulder, taking a step backward. “There’s no need to be rude,” y/n shrugged.
“I’m not being rude,” he rebuffed the comment, “just worried about where you’re planning to hide the gun.”
A slight smile waltzed on her lips as she pushed the bottom of her gown aside, faintly exposing lacy onyx panties and a holster. James choked, once, at the obscenity of her response.
“I’ve done this before,” she teased him, “sergeant.”
The charity auction had been a distant thought until she was standing on the stage with dozens of eyes upon her. She could hear the voice of the auction's host, describing the date she’d be forced to attend and the chatter of middle-aged men, hoping to secure the evening with Amelie Barnes, but y/n could only focus on searching for Mark in the crowd.
Nancy wouldn’t have lied to someone about Elijah and Mark’s wicked plans because the lawyer had zero motives to deceive a person she trusted. At least the woman hoped Nancy trusted whoever it had been on the other side of the phone because her whole plan revolved around Mark’s appearance at the gala. She’d never wish for Steve’s untimely death, but she did wish for the HYDRA operative and the politician to be caught on camera as they attempted to eliminate him.
“Let’s start the bidding at a thousand dollars,” the host announced, and she swallowed the lump of nerves in her throat.
A man on the left side of the ballroom raised his bid paddle. He seemed utterly too old to take y/n out on a date, and she shivered at the possibility.
The host beside y/n smiled, peeking at her. “We have a thousand, can we get more?”
“Two thousand!”
“Three thousand!”
“Five thousand dollars!”
She could barely register the number of voices, each interrupting the next to outbid the other.
A woman, close enough to the stage that she could see her face, raised the paddle. “Ten thousand dollars!”
“Ten thousand dollars for the woman in a green gown,” the presenter spoke cheerfully. “Amelie loves art galleries and tennis at The River Club of New York!” He encouraged the guests to aim higher. “The woman’s a real good company."
What the fuck did Sam tell them?
If she had ever thought that time spent in James Buchanan Barnes’ proximity must have been the worst thing the world could possibly offer, which she often would, she had been wrong. She was a spy, she had undoubtedly used her appearance to obtain certain information or opportunities on missions before, but the auction caused goosebumps to waltz on her skin — to be suppressed into an object, the perfect accessory for a date night, was one of the worst emotions she had ever experienced.
James stood in the back, observing her panic-riddled expression. She had forgotten Tony’s credit card in Maui on accident, and though Tony would skin him alive if he spent as much as a dime on it, Tony and James had never been close buddies, so what further damage could his impending action legitimately cause if the damage of the two’s past had already been irreversible.
“Fifteen thousand dollars,” James raised the bidding paddle, grinning at y/n.
She stood on the stage perplexed at the sound of Bucky’s voice, frantically searching for his face in the sea of people.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we just got our highest bid of the night! Fifteen thousand dollars for the man in the back going in one, two, th-“
“Thirty grand for the man in blue.” A deep voice reverberated through the room.
She abandoned her search for James, locking her gaze on Mark. The spy had inspected the crowd once, then had inspected it for a second time, and the agent had not been comfortably sitting at a nearby table, peering at her through the top of his champagne flute. Mark must have sneaked in, which signified that either Steve was already dead or Elijah was waiting for Mark backstage, conversing with Captain America before commencing the plan of a brutal murder.
“Forty,” James challenged, studying in which direction y/n’s disgusted glance pointed.
“Fifty thousand,” Mark announced before the host had a chance to say anything, continuing to scrutinize her. The agent’s smile was cocky, overconfident, almost as if she was the victim and he was the hunter; as if he had discovered y/n’s deepest and darkest of secrets.
“Fifty thousand going in one, two—“
“A hundred thousand dollars,” James yelled, interrupting the ghost, and maneuvered to stand by the stage.
Silence settled upon the room at the sheer absurdity of his proposed bid. The truth was, the sergeant had spoken before he could think because the world, at that moment, had not existed outside the gala. She was standing on the platform, the glitter in her special lotion, as she’d describe it, glimmering underneath the fiery spotlight. She was clad in an opulent gown, dripping in pearlescent onyx beads and intricate patterns. She was reduced to nothing but an object in the auction, a good company auction's participants could purchase.
She, the woman who’d never become a friend, for he’d always crave to be her lover.
The spy averted her piercing gaze away from Mark and glanced at James. Concern was visibly displayed in his eyes, yet his grin, sweet and playful to steady her nerves, remained. A corner of her mouth quirked up, and she mouthed a silent thank you. James was attempting to outbid every person in the room to save y/n from a terrible date, and he was willing to do it in understanding that Tony would lecture, if not evict, him.
The moment shattered as she returned her eyes to Mark, and her expression turned deadly. The spy might have played the role of an obedient, pleasant wife and woman on Elijah’s boat, but it was apparent he had acquired some kind of insight into who she verily was. It was useless to pretend she desired to be friends with Mark, a positively unsuspicious Elijah’s friend, who just happened to surprisingly specialize in foreign weaponry.
“This is shockingly incredible,” the host trumpeted in amazement, pausing for a second, “a hundred thousand dollars for the man in the satin suit going in one, two, three.” Mark basked in the daggers she sent toward him, sipping on his second glass of champagne as James glided onto the stage, clasping y/n’s fingers in his gloved hand, and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles. “The date with Amelie Barnes has just been sold to the guy in a lovely suit,” James and y/n exchanged amused looks at the host’s comment, “but don’t abandon your seats just yet ladies and gentlemen, because up next we have a cooking lesson at Daniel with the beautiful chef Olivia Stroud.”
“Thank you,” she softly acknowledged his sacrifice at the auction, "for what you did back there."
The pair hid behind heavy velvet curtains, a hairsbreadth away from each other, occasionally peaking through the crack to inspect the limited backstage area for Mark or Elijah. It slightly resembled a room suited for rehearsals, mimicking the layout of the ballroom and the stage on a lesser scale. The space was cluttered and messy, with tangles of cords littering the floor and racks of clothing lining the walls.
A date with Steve was the last to be auctioned before the break, establishing the perfect opportunity to catch him off-guard and without innocent eyes around to witness the gory sight of Captain America’s murder.
James smiled, shyly almost. “I couldn’t allow myself to watch and do nothing while creepy old men fought over a chance to spend time with Amelie,” he teased, adjusting a fallen strap of y/n’s gown, “my hatred for you doesn’t stretch that deep.”
Heat crawled up her neck and onto her cheeks. “Bucky, you are an old man,” the woman teased, “perhaps not creepy, but weird? Absolutely.”
“I’m not weird,” he argued, suppressing a smile, “you eat ice cream with pickles for toppings.”
False shock stained the edges of y/n’s expression, “it was one time, and I only tried it because Pepper affirmed it was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten.”
“Pepper was pregnant,” he reminded playfully, earning a light smack on the shoulder.
The two Avengers swiftly switched into vigilant agents at the sudden squeak of the door. It was Mark, who entered the room first, scanning over the area for unwanted people. Steve appeared in the room seconds later, an arm resting on Elijah’s shoulders as he vehemently laughed at something the politician had mentioned.
It would’ve taken a fool to miss the obvious problem at hand.
Steve was seldom intoxicated. She’d know, for she had spent too many gatherings attempting to outdrink the man without real success. Thor’s Asgardian mead was deadly to mortals but pleasantly kind to gods and super-soldiers alike. Earthly alcohol, contrariwise, was harsh on him; the taste delectable, the effects on Steve’s modified human body meager.
It abruptly struck y/n — guns signified blood, plenty of it, and an operative smart enough to fabricate files of his supposed status as deceased wouldn’t be reckless and leave a plash of evidence in the backstage area of a charity gala’s ballroom.
“Good news,” Sam’s voice echoed in the pair’s ears, “I have eyes on Steve,” he paused briefly, “bad news, Mark Basso and Elijah Williamson are plaguing the Captain.”
James opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him by placing a tender finger on his lips. “Sam, how closely were you monitoring the security cameras?”
It was a simple question she hoped the Falcon wouldn’t take offense to.
He did.
“I was observing the monitors like a hawk, y/n.”
She refrained against an unnecessary comment and focused on the task, “and the video has audio?”
“Yes.”
She took a step forward, closing the barely existent gap between them, “Elijah and Mark must’ve spiked his drink,” y/n hushedly whispered, circling a hand around James’ waist to touch the handgun she had provided.
The pistol was securely tucked into the waistband of his trousers, and the sergeant cocked his head to the side. I’ve been on missions before, the glimmer in his eyes stated, and she could sense the early stages of his frustration, I didn’t accidentally drop it or nothin’.
“At any point, did you notice Steve drinking a whiskey he had not ordered himself?”
“Alright,” Sam clicked his tongue, “so I might not have an answer to that particular question, but I can say that Steve went into the bathroom twenty minutes ago, and his face seemed quite pale.”
James placed a finger on the gadget, “did anyone accompany him?”
“Yes, a line of beautiful ladies,” the Falcon responded, and James could nearly visualize Sam rolling his eyes in annoyance.
The two men bickered some more, but she had tuned out the conversation, studying the scene onward. Everyone has a tell, y/n recalled. Though Steve’s words regarded lies and treacheries, the advice had not yet lost its meaning. It had been New Year’s Eve when she had gotten a nasty infection and had forgone Thor’s mead due to antibiotics. The compound’s residents had partaken in a friendly drinking competition then, and Steve had sworn the alcohol couldn’t exhilarate him, except his eyes had been droopy, and he had clutched James’ biceps for balance.
Steve leaned on Mark, his laugh far less joyous than it had been before, so perhaps Nancy had been wrong, and they had not planned to eliminate him at the gala, but rather drug the Captain, sneakily transporting his unconscious body to a place, devoid of prying glances and curious endeavors. She wondered whether Elijah would linger in the room until the poison took its course. It’d be easier to carry dead weight, for Steve might fight against the operation.
The plan was meticulously calculated except for a single nuance. Why would the two men bring Steve into the backstage area in the first place if they could’ve used the narrow hallways and hidden exits to sneak out?
“We should slaughter Wilfred.” Mark spoke as if answering y/n’s concerns. “I specifically told Nagel he cannot be late.”
“It’s a slight blunder,” Elijah replied, oblivious to the surroundings, and the woman behind the velvet material, around him. Steve was barely awake. “We have Rogers and a bit of time before he’s supposed to appear on stage.”
It was impossible to ignore James’ piercing eyes, and she hastily peeped at him. “Do we wait?”
And she craved to have the correct response to his question, but, despite her usual confidence during missions, she didn’t have an answer. James had allowed her to lead, and she felt as if she was disappointing him, lingering behind a curtain as the Captain, a friend, clutched the very enemies they wished to incarcerate. The only thing y/n understood in great certainty was that Steve’s body couldn’t leave the premises of the establishment.
“Did you see Mark or Elijah on the phone at any point in the night?”
“Mark was a ghost,” Sam’s voice crawled through her earpiece, “but I distinctly remember Elijah in a heated conversation. The man arrived at the gala with his wife, presumably, and scuttled away into a lonely corner soon after, which I found interesting.”
The former HYDRA operative’s phone dinged, and she lowered her hands to reach for the gun strapped to her thigh. Steve’s dormant body nearly hit the ground as he lost consciousness, and Elijah slithered his hands under Steve’s armpits to support the Captain’s weight. The woman’s heart clenched at the sight, of her confidante resting against Elijah’s chest like a heavy sack of potatoes, entirely unresponsive to the situation.
“Let’s move,” Mark clasped his ankles, and the unlikely allies hoisted Steve’s figure, “Wilfred messaged he’s awaiting outside.”
She could only comprehend Elijah's high-pitched shriek that rang in her ears, silencing the laughs, chatter, and footsteps sneaking into the space from the ballroom. James was the first to abandon the secure hiding spot behind the curtain, pointing his gun at the man, a stern expression on his face. A couple seconds passed before she trailed after him, shoving a pistol into Mark’s back as a threat. Steve’s body caused a harsh crash sound when it hit the ground, but she could only concentrate on Sam and the amount of time it’d take him to reach the ballroom backstage from the van parked outside.
“On your knees,” y/n instructed, firmly thrusting the gun against his skin.
The operative lazily raised his arms, making no effort to do as she had requested. “Amelie Barnes,” he chuckled, “what a stupid alias,” the situation didn’t afford contemplations on how he could’ve realized she was more than a homemaker, “though I must admit, I almost fell for the lovebirds' act by the way you two basked in each other on the boat.” Mark’s tone was tainted with smugness.
Elijah landed a painful punch on James’ jawline, and he staggered back at the surprise of the action before he straightened up and kneed him in the stomach.
She drew in a breath, “you’re wrong.”
The operative ignored the politician and the fight he seemed to be losing, “am I?”
She jabbed the pistol into his muscled back once more, hands quivering at the unspoken confession; it swallowed the room, knocking the air out of her lungs. “Get down on your knees,” she spat the warning.
“A dozen names,” he snickered, “and not a single true. Mindy Phillips, Tara Marvin, Katherine Bailey just to identify a few.”
“This is the last time I’ll repeat myself, get down on your fucking knees.”
“C’mon, y/n,” he spoke, lowering his arms a bit, “we can come to an agreement that’d satisfy both of us.”
She froze at the mention. The curiosity almost lured her into the biggest mistake she could make — playing along. “Elijah and HYDRA’s golden agent behind bars is the only agreement I’d be delighted about.”
Mark suddenly turned around, grasping one of y/n’s wrists, and she clobbered him across the head with the hand that was clutching the gun. He wobbled, momentarily, before he tackled her to the ground, thighs resting on either side of her own, and gripped y/n’s wrist once more. The gun landed by her, and she writhed in his hold to reach it, but it was useless. Mark harshly pinned her arms above her hand, leaning in so close she could feel his disgustingly hot breath upon the skin of her neck.
He snickered, grazing the top of her ear with his lips, “we could’ve worked together,” Mark lightly nipped at the sensitive spot, “could’ve been a real good team.”
She found his eyes, amused and eerily hungry, and spat in his face, “fuck you.”
Mark laughed, but before he could sputter another comment, James was pouncing on the agent, resting his entire weight on him just as Mark had done to y/n, mercilessly pummeling the flesh of his upper body.
She averted her gaze from the bloody sight, searching for Elijah. The politician was sprawled out on the cement floor, by Steve’s feet, unconscious. A huge gash tainted his bottom lip, and purple had begun tinting his cheekbones. She glimpsed at James and the small cuts that adorned his handsome face; Elijah must’ve stricken a few great hits before the sergeant had stunned him cold.
Sam barged through the door. Besides the Falcon, she was the only person in the room without visible injuries, though her joints ached from the pressure Mark had used to clutch them.
“I called reinforcement,” he spoke, kicking her gun to a corner Mark couldn’t reach.
“Care to help?” Bucky’s teasing comment amidst a fight was almost comforting.
Sam rolled his eyes, joining James in the scuffle with the agent. She focused on Steve, crawling to his dormant body. Though it was dreadfully faint, his heartbeat remained. It was difficult to raise the top half of his weight, yet y/n succeeded, supporting his neck and shoulders as she inspected the back of his head for damage. She gasped silently, noticing that the blonde of his hair had been stained red. The split in his skin wasn’t deep enough to be profoundly alarming, but it'd require stitches. Speedily, she checked the time on his watch, creating a mental note, and lowered his figure to rummage in his pockets for a cell phone. The Captain’s head she placed upon her folded legs.
The woman’s fingers trembled as she typed in the emergency number. In the years they had worked together, never had Steve fallen unconscious, nor had he obtained a gaping gash in the back of his scalp. Elijah and Mark must've given him an alarmingly high dose of tranquilizer to knock the super-soldier out entirely, and she was scared.
The two Avengers had handcuffed Mark when the call between y/n and the local emergency service had ended. The operator’s voice has been soothing and calm, and she had turned the iPhone off feeling far more composed than she had been when she made it.
“An ambulance should be here in a few minutes.”
“That was quite dramatic,” Mark noted, a weak chuckle slipping past his lips, “Steve ingested sedatives, not poison.”
James placed a gun to his temple, and Sam planted a hand on the sergeant’s shoulder, “don’t engage him,” the Falcon advised, turning to y/n, “did you know?”
She recognized Sam’s true question was did you know they planned to kill Steve?
“Yes,” she averted her gaze to observe Steve, “I’m sorry.” The spy was genuinely apologetic for hiding certain information.
Sam drew in a deep breath, pursing his lips together, “why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“I needed you to monitor the security cameras,” she answered truthfully, “I needed someone to transfer the footage into our database,” the explanation was honest once more, “I was afraid Mark or Elijah would attempt to tamper with it.”
“She was right, we had a whole plan 'n' everything,” Mark chimed in, and James pushed him down to his knees.
He sighed in frustration, the pistol lingering in its position against Mark’s skin, “stay fucking quiet, asshole.”
The Falcon ignored the commotion in the background, his expression strained as he continued to stare at her, “you should’ve told us.”
The statement disintegrated into thin air, the weight of it still heavy on her shoulders. She stayed silent, brushing away the sweaty pieces of hair that had stuck to Steve’s forehead. His face was eerily peaceful as he rested, unconscious, on the cement floor, head propped on y/n’s thighs. The gown Sam had chosen for the evening was sprinkled with blood in various spots, albeit the dark color disguised it. It was gorgeous and elegant, she’d admit, but it was destined to burn after the events that had unfolded during the gala.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, her voice drained of emotion.
“The two of you should return to the hotel,” Sam suggested when a group of FBI officers spilled into the room, “shower, eat, rest. I have zero doubts it’s been an exhausting week,” he half-heartedly joked, referring to the faux honeymoon, “I’ll stay with Steve.”
“Sam,” she spoke, “we want t—“
“Go,” the Falcon interrupted her, “please,” one of the officers firmly hoisted Mark, and James swiftly reached y/n’s kneeling figure, “I got this.” The tone of his voice had whispers of irritation at its edges.
“Alright,” she agreed, helping a paramedic transfer Steve’s body onto a stretcher, “I trust you.”
Sam glanced at James, shoving his hands into his pockets, and returned his eyes to y/n. “Good.” The look they exchanged was strangely comforting, the kind of look that conveyed Sam wasn’t angry, per se, but rather vanquished, and disappointment she could deal with.
She offered him a weak smile, “I should shower.”
The Falcon chuckled, mouthing a silent go, and turned his focus to James, both of you.
James stood in the hotel room’s doorway.
She was fidgeting with lavish jewels, her patience stretching thin as the necklace’s clasp remained closed despite y/n’s nimble fingers attempting to work it open. She glanced at him, once, before regaining focus. “Why are you here?”
The sergeant shrugged, though she couldn’t see it. “I forgot to book a hotel room.”
She ceased her movements, observing his awkwardness-laden body language. James’ long-forgotten suit jacket dangled over his bent arm, the other hand shoved into the pocket of his satin trousers.
“May I suggest driving back to the compound?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up into a small grin at y/n’s thorny response, “we’re in the middle of Manhattan, and the compound is a three-hour drive away.” James closed the heavy wooden door, locking it behind him. “Can I stay with you?”
“It seems you’ve answered the question before I had the chance,” she referenced the action, staring at him in forged disbelief.
The atmosphere stilled in a pregnant pause. It wouldn’t be harmless for the couple to sleep in the same bed. They had done it in Maui, and neither her skin had broken out in a rash nor had she perished. On the contrary, it was peaceful to relish in the warmth of his skin.
James dumped the jacket on an empty chair, slowly coming to stand in front of the woman. She could almost hear the thumping of his heart, his body a hairbreadth away. Sirens echoed outside the sealed window, saturating the silence in crimson sounds. New York City contrasted with the lush green of upstate New York. The living quarters at the compound were usually deprived of clamor, protected against harsh winds and white noise by thick cement walls.
“Let me help you,” James cooed, sliding his hands across the skin of her arms upward. The soft pads of his fingers caressed her collarbone before he grasped the necklace’s clasp and easily worked it open. “We could be great together,” he spoke, turning to gently place the diamond choker on a glass desk, “great partners,” her fingers ghosted over the spots James had touched, “great lovers,” he toyed with the idea.
The sergeant returned to his previous place and, “great lovers,” she teased, “you think we could fit together?”
“Mmmh,” he concurred, “but we always extinguish the flame before it truly burns.”
She brushed her hands across the smooth fabric of his dress shirt, savoring the firmness of his muscled chest beneath the textile. We always extinguish the flame before it truly burns. Perhaps James was correct — she had been opposing a traitorous fire within the deepest pits of her heart, and body, long before Wanda had a terrible idea to send the two on a faux honeymoon.
“Kiss me,” she spoke in an honest confession of lust.
“What?” James’ voice was breathless as he gawked at the woman in foreign excitement and disbelief.
Oh, the way he hoped she’d realize that the line between love and hatred stood thin, and they had surely blurred it in Maui, but never did James think she genuinely would. The fault was his, partially. It had been easy to fabricate false narratives for the compound’s residents, convince himself he loathed the woman despite the countless nights of wandering hands and shameful memories of her body. James had designed a malicious persona, but oh, the way he hoped she’d see through it.
“Kiss me,” she repeated, “because just once, I need to get you out of my system,” her hands slithered to his biceps, “kiss me, so the next time I’ll touch myself at night, it won’t be your face I’ll be seeing.”
James cupped the back of y/n’s neck, crashing their lips together. The world in the background ceased to exist at the moment. He swiped his tongue against her bottom lip, asking for permission, and she surrendered to the request, tangling her fingers in his copper locks. She gingerly pulled at the root, earning a muffled whimper from James, and he slid his metal arm down to y/n’s waist to bring the woman closer, to erase the barely existent gap between their bodies. She burned with arousal, and Bucky was equally as famished. It was only the lack of oxygen that pulled the couple apart, and James drew in a deep breath, capturing y/n’s lips once more seconds later.
It was a dangerous promise, the kiss. A wildfire that spread through the entirety of her body, stimulating every nerve ending until she was moaning into his mouth as a plead for more, tongues fighting for dominance. It knocked the air out of her lungs, and when she retreated, James didn’t meld their lips, opting to focus on y/n’s neck. He kissed, licked, and sucked the sensitive skin like a man deprived of the only thing he’s ever desired. She was a drug, and god, was James addicted to her scent and her silky skin, and her hands, sloppily untucking his dress shirt, to slide under the fabric and explore his taut muscles. Everywhere she touched scorched, and he messily searched for the zipper of her gown, discarding the dress to the ground as soon as the piece of metal relented.
She was the most beautiful sight James had ever seen as she stood in front of him in just a pair of lacy panties. Art, created by the world’s most talented of artists, an angel bestowed to him by the gods themselves.
The sergeant brushed his flesh thumb across her lower lip, blending their lips together. His metal hand, the one she had always disgracefully thought was outrageously attractive, slithered between her plush thighs, and James moaned into her mouth upon discovering that she was soaked and aching for him. He shifted the undergarment to the side for access, dragging his fingers through her silken folds.
Cool metal thumb pressed into her clit, and she broke the kiss, “inside,” she spoke, the tone of her voice laced with desperation, “I want you inside of me.”
“Sweet girl,” James chuckled, inserting a single digit into her slick heat, “you need to be stretched first.”
He thrusted his finger a few times before adding a second digit. She clenched around him, messily unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the carpeted floors. The pace of his thrusts remained steady and agonizingly slow as James basked in her pleasure-riddled expression.
The woman clutched the waistband of his trousers, messing with the belt, her fingers trembling as James continued to stroke the sensitive spot inside her with two of his fingers. “Please,” she muttered, “faster.”
A sly smirk waltzed on his lips at the request, but, instead of obeying y/n’s wishes, he halted the activity, removing his hand, and placed the metal in his mouth, sucking it clean, “such a sweet thing you are.”
Warmth crept up her neck and onto her cheekbones. He hastily removed the trousers, placing his hands on the back of y/n’s upper thighs, hoisting the woman, and gently tossed her onto the spongy bed. She stared at him through curious eyes, lowering her gaze to observe the bulge in his boxers, and swallowed the lump in her throat. Judging by the outline in his underwear, James was huge, far bigger than the men she had fooled around with in the past.
“I want to taste you,” she confessed, propping herself up on her elbows.
James shook his head no, hooking his fingers under the waistband of her onyx panties to tear them off, “next time, doll.”
She wasn’t certain whether there would be a next time, for James had discovered a side to her, she had long buried. An alter ego, who was submissive, and pliable, and starved for the touch of a man she described as her enemy.
James nestled between her legs, arms on either side of her waist, and placed chaste kisses on y/n’s mouth and jawline. His head dipped lower as he assailed her neck and chest, popping a nipple in his mouth. The sergeant sucked the sensitive bud before nipping on it, massaging her other breast with his hand and rolling the right nipple between his fingers.
She writhed under him, eyes shut from the waves of pleasure racing through her. James didn’t linger over the area, choosing to concentrate on kissing the length of y/n’s body as he crawled to situate himself betwixt her thighs. Goosebumps painted the path of his eager kisses, and she grasped a handful of his hair when James gave her clit a kitten lick to test the response.
“James,” she purred as he repeated the action and slithered two digits back into her dripping heat.
“Use your words,” he grazed his tongue over the bud again, applying a little bit more pressure, “tell daddy what you want.”
The woman’s eyes shot open at the term but then he was thrusting his fingers into her wetness, repeatedly hitting the delicious spot that made her toes curl, the insult toward James forgotten.
“Mouth,” she mumbled, too lost in the delectation to form a coherent sentence.
James snickered at her vague response, wrapping a pair of soft lips around y/n’s clit. The thrusting of his fingers persisted as he stimulated the area. James was spelling out his full name on her sex, she realized by the time he had started tracing a b for Buchanan, yet she abstained from further reflections, coming undone by his mouth and fingers seconds before James could complete tracing the s in Barnes.
“Good girl,” he praised, helping y/n ride out her orgasm.
James withdrew his fingers, sucking them clean of y/n’s stickiness before he removed the metal with a pop, and peeled off his boxers, flinging the garment across the space.
The room was modern and opulent, with floor-to-ceiling windows exposing the ever-awake skyline of New York City, its sky-high buildings, impressive bridges, and countless lights. It was situated on the fortieth floor of the hotel, creating a perfect opportunity to indulge in a bit of a rush and leave the curtains wide open without a true risk of innocent bystanders witnessing the scene.
James kneeled on the bed. The usual glimmer of annoyance toward her in his eyes had been replaced by a feral kind of hunger, and, as she stared at him like a pray would observe its hunter, y/n decided that, just maybe, this wouldn’t be the first or the last time she’d let James treasure her body.
She loosely draped her forearms over his neck when he slanted to capture her nipple in his mouth, “I know you consistently ignore my wishes,” she whimpered, “but for the love of god, sergeant, I need you.”
He chuckled, showing attention to the other bud by pinching it, “my sweet girl wants to get filled, huh?”
James’ throbbing weight rested heavily against the skin of her thighs, and she reached down to palm it. “Yes.”
The woman’s nimble fingers caressed the reddened tip, spreading his precum on the surface before she dipped her hand a tad lower to gently fondle his balls. A moan escaped past his lips at her eager endeavor.
“I like it when you’re needy,” James pulled back and she groaned at the loss of him in her hands, “and dripping,” his fingers ghosted over the velvety folds before he was manhandling the spy to rest on her knees and forearms, “willing to let daddy take care of you.”
She ignored the name yet again but stored it within her memories to use for blackmail in the future. “Is he?” She questioned when Bucky clutched her hips and pushed his hand down on her back for a deeper arch. “Is daddy gonna fuck me, or is he just going to talk all night?”
James understood she only used the term to mock him, but shit, did it stir his already aching cock. He palmed himself twice before dragging his length along her slick folds, the metal hand abandoning her hips to circle her waist and gently rub y/n’s clit from behind. She clenched around emptiness, pressing into his pelvis for friction, and Bucky ceased his movements, removing the fingers from her bud to harshly grip the flesh of y/n’s hips once more. James continued the torture, lazily teasing her entrance, and she painfully sunk her teeth into her bottom lip.
“What do we say when we want something?” He taunted the woman, utterly enjoying her anguish.
“James,” she mumbled into the crisp sheets.
The soldier found amusement in the warning but showed mercy, sinking into her sodden heat. He’d fuck the brat out of her on a different day.
A strained whimper escaped past her lips at the delicious stretch of his cock, matching Bucky’s hiss at the way the spy’s walls drunk him in. James thrusted into her a few times, experimenting with speed and rhythm. A particularly rough roll of his hips seemed to rip a piercing moan from y/n’s throat, and he grinned, abandoning the hold on her hips to massage her clit again.
The room was saturated in vulgar noises of skin slapping against skin, moans, and desperate whines as James mercilessly pounded into her. She sobbed into a pillow as he led her to the edge for the second time, refusing to burst the bubble and let the flame consume her, thick fingers retreating just before the orgasm could ignite her body, over and over again.
James consumed every shallow breath and every wail, deciding that it would not be the last time he’d listen to the melody — she was a sin he’d gratefully burn in hell for, and an angel he’d break down heaven’s gates to attain. The soldier suddenly removed himself from her, already missing y/n’s silken walls squeezing around him, and shifted the woman, so that she rested on her back. He captured her ankles, draping them over his shoulders before he roughly thrusted back in. She wept at the overstimulation when he bottomed out, balls slapping against the skin of her ass. The new angle allowed James to reach far deeper.
He groaned, “you’re so tight,” thumb brushing against her plush lips, “my sweet, sweet girl,” he cooed, “wanna worship this pussy all night.”
And in his head, the statement stood true, but it was his body that opposed it, his arousal steadily creeping over the edge of an orgasm.
She shut her eyes, expression drenched with pleasure, “I’ma cum,” she moaned.
“I know, doll.” James wiped off the tear threatening to roll down her cheek and captured y/n’s lips in a messy kiss.
“It feels good—,” she hiccuped when he pulled away, “—so good.”
The world stilled. It was only James’ ragged breath and the heavenly orgasm she could focus on, washing over her body in syrupy waves and causing her toes to curl into the mattress below. She raked her nails over the skin of his back, leaving scorching marks in her wake.
“Shit,” James cursed as his own peak approached, his strokes sloppy.
It was a few thrusts later when he climaxed, painting her velvety walls white with a loud moan. He licked a sensitive spot on y/n’s neck, propping himself up on his forearms when the thunderous arousal began to quiet.
She brushed the hair that had gotten stuck to his sweaty forehead aside, “we don’t have evidence to convict Nancy,” she spoke when her heartbeat steadied.
James sighed amusedly, pulling out his softened length and maneuvering to lay beside her. “This is what you say after we just had sex for the first time?”
“Yes,” she deflected, refusing to admit she had fallen for the soldier and that it would not be the only time they’d get tangled in the sheets.
“Alright,” he abandoned the bed with a laugh and gathered y/n’s exhausted body in his arms to locate the bathroom, “but let’s shower before we talk shop.”
James observed the skyline of New York City. It was the place they had first encountered one another, back when he had brutally stabbed the woman. She rested on his bare chest now, peacefully asleep, soft snores falling from her lips. Times have changed, James realized with a heavy heart because change was uncertain and scary. It was worth it, though, if it meant the sergeant could love her up close and without barriers between them. It’d surely take a while to erase the tainted memories of the past, but they had been at war for five years, and he’d happily spend another five falling in love.
An iPhone James had recently purchased dinged with a text.
CAPTAIN AMERICA: guess Wanda and I won’t have to sleep with our eyes open after all:)
His mouth curved into a smile, elated Steve had not only woken up but was cracking jokes over the situation he had forced Bucky into.
WHITE WOLF: debatable.
It was not debatable — Steve and Wanda sending the couple on a honeymoon in Maui was the best decision they could’ve made, for the moon found his sun at last.
TAGS:
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Back in my Arms
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader
Word Count: 1,173
Summary: Your relationship with Bucky is still new and even though the feelings are deep it's hard to put a label on it but when something goes wrong while he's out on a mission you realize just how much he means to you.
Author's Note: Because who wouldn't miss Bucky and worry about him when he's out saving the world? Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: some worry and angst to start, soft and sweet fluff that turns to sexy times quick, semi-public se-x sorta :D
The loud ringing of your phone startles you from sleep and you sit up with a jolt. Searching the night table with a sweep of your hand you knock several things off but finally wrap your fingers around your phone.
“Hello,” you grumble sleepily.
“You were asleep.”
Your best friend’s uneasy voice comes through in a whisper and your heart starts to thump harder against your ribcage.
“What’s wrong?” you ask.
“Babe…”
You sit up straighter and throw the covers off. “What?”
“They aren’t giving us any details but I just saw the news…”
“What?” you repeat and press your hand to your chest.
“It looks like the team is back but something went wrong.”
“Did you hear anything about Bucky?”
Your voice is shaky as you frantically search your room for clothes.
“No names but…”
“Oh my god.”
“I’m sure he’s fine babe,” she assures you even as her voice waivers. “But don’t turn on the TV or look at anything on your phone. Did he call?”
You slowly pull the phone away from your ear and check your messages.
Nothing.
You look at your missed calls and voicemail.
Still nothing.
When you hear your friend calling your name you place the phone back to your ear and whisper, “nothing.”
“It’s Bucky…he’s fine.”
“Okay. He has to be fine. I mean…technically I’m not his girlfriend. I can’t just rush over there and check on him, can I?”
“What you meant to say is, ‘you’re not his girlfriend yet,’ and who’s going to stop you?”
You nod as you start to pull on some clothes.
“I have to go. I’ll call you soon.”
With a few more reassuring words your best friend hangs up and you rush into the bathroom to make yourself presentable and then throw on Bucky’s Henley. The one you maybe forgot to return before he left for the mission.
Trying your best not to picture the worst in your head you run out of your apartment building and hail wildly for a cab.
Once inside your feet bounce along the floor and your hands are clasped tightly together in your lap as you silently will the driver to go faster.
When the cab pulls up to the tower you throw money into the front seat with a stilted ‘thank you’ and will yourself to take steady breaths.
Friday greets you and lets you in, directing you to the med bay on the lower floor.
Heart in your throat you creep out of the elevator and look left and right. It’s quiet. Almost too quiet and you step out.
“Doll?”
You whirl around at the sound of Bucky’s voice.
He’s standing there in his dark jeans that are painted on, his soft shirt rolled up to the elbows and his leather jacket thrown over his shoulder. The fluorescent lighting gleams off his metal arm and you hear his fingers tighten into a fist.
“Oh good,” you whisper as his image blurs. “You’re okay.”
You try not to sniffle and keep your hands at your sides.
“I heard there was some trouble, so I…I figured I would come and check on you. And the rest of the team.”
“You came to check on me?”
His raspy voice sends a tremble down your spine.
“Yes.”
He takes a step closer.
“Is that my shirt doll face?”
“Oh…,” you grab the hem and finger the soft material.
“Doll…please. Please come here.”
You back up a step, hitting the elevator door. “I…I was so worried.”
His swallow is audible and you watch the muscles in his neck shift.
“I would have called but my phone is busted and I had to make sure Sam was ok.”
“Is Sam ok?” you ask, suddenly breathless again.
“Thankfully he’s going to be fine. Just needs some time.”
You nod and let out a shaky breath. He approaches slowly, dropping his jacket to the floor and holding his arms out for you.
“Doll…please. Come here. Let me kiss you. It’s all I’ve wanted to do for the past three weeks.”
Your whispered “okay,” can barely be heard above your breathing but the second he’s close enough you launch yourself into his arms.
He wraps you up tightly, your slight shakes making him coo softly in your ear as he smooths his hands along your back and kisses your head.
“Oh doll,” he whispers. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”
Your face presses into his chest and you inhale.
When his hand slides higher and wraps around the back of your neck he brings your eyes to his, their gaze falling to your mouth before he closes the distance, crashing his lips to yours.
Your broken moan makes him press you impossibly closer, needing to feel all of you.
He growls your name and takes two steps backward, pinning you against the wall. His lips trail down your neck and then back up until they meet your earlobe.
“I can’t fuck you here doll. But if we don’t stop that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“I need you now,” you plead, dragging your fingers through his hair. “Now Bucky. Please. I can’t wait.”
You’ve barely got the words out when he lifts you into his arms and starts to move down the hallway. You pull on his shirt and wrap your legs around his waist, rocking your hips against his.
His hand reaches out to feel for a doorknob and he kicks open the door to an old med room. You slide down his body and onto the floor as he reaches behind him to turn the lock.
Your fingers slip under his shirt and you run your fingernails over his abs as he walks you backward toward the wall.
“Take his off. Please. I need to feel you.”
“That’s my line doll,” he murmurs.
The urgency in your touch is nearly his undoing and between kisses he fumbles with your leggings, groaning when he slips his hand between your legs and feels the soaked fabric of your panties.
With a rip they float to the floor and he spreads your legs apart with his knee. You push his pants down and free him, taking him in your hand and guiding him closer.
He stills, trying to focus on his breathing and garner some semblance of control.
“Rough Bucky. I want it hard and rough.”
There goes any chance he had of holding onto control.
He fills you in one swift stroke and you bite back a scream, moaning into his hand when he covers your mouth.
“I thought about you the whole fucking time we were gone. I never stopped.”
He drops his hand to hear you whine his name in response and he slows the movement of his hips.
“Tell me you missed me,” he groans.
You inhale and curl your fingers into his skin.
“I missed you.”
He grabs your ass and lifts you higher, angling your hips so he can go deeper.
“Say it again,” he demands.
“Missed you Bucky. I missed you so much.”
@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @lizette50 @kmc1989 @goldylions @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife
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Hi friend :) can please write Bucky x little reader where our therapist recommends we try age regression and how we are very hesitant at first but he just makes us feel loved and comfortable?
Let’s try it
Content - age regression, cg!bucky, psychologists, anxiety, apprehensive!reader, light swearing, soft toys, dummy use, bottles, slight angst, fluff cuddles, not proofread, don’t like don’t read.
Summary - when your psychologist gives you a new coping mechanism to try bucky helps makes you feel comfortable with trying it.
Authors note - thank you for the request my love sorry it took so long I hope you enjoy it!, reblogs are greatly appreciated<3
Translation - honey love = med lyubov'
“Age what?” You questioned your psychologist curiosity, you never got over how many things you’d never heard of before in terms of the mind.
“Age regression dear, I think it might benefit you” dr irin said plainly with a reassuring smile plastered across her lips “what does that entail?” “Well age regression therapy is when you revert to a childlike mindset in order to heal your inner child so to speak.”
You sat there for a minute trying to process the information given to you. “So how old would I go back too?” “It’s hard to say dear, it depends on what your mind does” she smiled reaching into her desk to pull out a pamphlet and some recommended websites.
“Now I was also thinking that some people who experience age regression find it easier when they have someone to take care of them, so maybe your partner James-“ “Bucky, yeah no I’m not bothering him with this” you said butterfly’s making their way into your chest.
“Okay hon” dr irin said softly “just know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s perfectly healthy” “okay” you sighed looking down at the pamphlet.
───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────
“Hi baby” Bucky smiled putting down the spatula and turning down the heat on the stove before walking over too you.
“Hi Bub, what’re you making?” You asked curiously walking over to the frying pan “pancakes, figured you might like some after your session” he smiled kissing your temple.
“Aww thank you, you bloody softy come here” you smiled pulling him in and kissing his soft lips “your welcome, so how’d you go?” He asked returning to the stove and flipping a pancake over on the other side.
“Yeah it was okay” you sighed sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs “what did you talk about?” “Not much she just gave me some strategies” you sighed smiling as you watched Bucky place the pancakes on a plate “what do you want on ‘em bub?” He said walking over to the fridge.
“Can I have one with maple syrup and fruit and another with lemon and sugar please?” “Of course you can my love.”
───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────
A few hours went by eventually turning the sky dark.
You were currently sitting on the sofa your favourite show playing on the telly while scrolling through your unanswered messages of the day.
Suddenly you realised your phone was about to run out of charge “buck can you get me my portable charger please?” You called out to Bucky who was sitting in the kitchen reading a newspaper.
“Sure where is it?” “In my bag I think” “okay”
In retrospect you probably should of remembered that you took your bag to your appointment. A few minutes later bucky came out with your portable charger in one hand and the pamphlet in his vibranium one.
“Here you go doll, hey what’s this?” He asked as he scanned the contents “what’s what?” You asked plugging in your phone and looking up at him “oh shit.”
“It’s nothing” you said quickly attempting to snatch it off him only to have him hold it up higher still accessing the words “it’s just something dr irin gave me give it here” “sounds interesting” he said gently giving it to you.
“Don’t judge it please I don’t even wanna do it it’s stupid” you whispered “hey hey no it’s not stupid if your doctor said it might help you should give it a go” he said kindly sitting next to you gently making you look at him.
“But I don’t know how and what if it doesn’t work it’s gonna be weird I just don’t-“ “hey dolly look at me yeah deep breaths in for 5 hold for 4 out for 5, that’s the way” he said softly guiding you through your breathing.
Once you calmed down you talked Bucky through what your psychologist had told you and he was completely on board.
During the next few days things went back to normal, that was until bucky received a large package “Bucky” you said suspiciously watching him sign for it seeing his cheeky smile.
“What have you done now” you said accusingly “ahh it’s actually for you sweetheart” he said kindly placing the box on the kitchen bench and ripping it open.
Inside there was a selection of soft toys, colouring in books, some bottles and a teal dummy. “Oh buck” you said breathlessly moving to embrace him.
“I told you angel I’m on board with this 100 percent”
───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────
A few days later you finally slipped after lots of research and trying out different approaches. You were currently sat on the sofa with your dummy in your mouth and alpine laying down beside you her soft breathing and snores alerting you to the fact she had fallen asleep.
“Daddy” you whispered to Bucky watching his face light up when you called him that “yes little one?” “Look at pine pine” you giggled pointing at her “aww she’s asleep, what do you think cats dream about baby bunny?”
“I dunno, mice?” “Mice” he chuckled heartily “yes” you said definitively “dada” “hmm?” “Can I have a cuddle?” “Of course you can my little angel” he said softly.
Repositioning yourself to lie between his legs your back of resting against his chest you felt his vibranium arm gently come to play with your hair “do you feel better med lyubov'?”
“Mhm” you hummed feeling yourself grow sleepy in the embrace of your caregiver.
───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────
Taglist - @bootlegmothman420 @littlephia @whippedforhongjoong @youngstarfishdinosaur @patchesofwork @buggyateabug @autisticbeauty @friendlyneighborhoodkillerbunny @sparklybuck @2-gay-possums-in-a-trench-coat @hopelesswritergall @stuckysgirl27 @sleepyprinc3ss @chaotic-little-witch @looksthatkilledd
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Not Hungry
Authors Note: I actually kind of hate this but I spent some time on it so I might as well post it. I wrote this with a similar body type to mine in mind, though it can be pictured anyway you like it does hint at a midsize/chubby reader. Give me feedback if you feel like it. Much love xoxo
Summary: You are self conscious eating in front of people so you decide to wait until you get home to eat. But unfortunate weather has you stuck at Buckys apartment and he is determined to make sure you don’t go to sleep hungry.
Warnings: food, not eating, body image, insecurities, hints at mature themes, pet names, possibly disordered eating habits, barely edited, bad formatting (pls let me know if I missed any)
——————————————————————————
You and Bucky had been together for a little while now, about 6 months. You both agreed to take it slow due to your own situations.
You really did like Bucky, loved him even, but you still had your habits and behaviors that you used to mask your own anxieties.
For example, you don’t eat in front of people. Even Bucky, and not because you don’t trust him but because you get in your head.
You will eat food with him but never a full meal. Part of it is because you don’t want him to judge you for eating too much, too little, too fast, too slow, anything really. People have always had something to say about your body and appearance and you came up with this coping as a way to keep them from having more to judge.
It started in high school when girls would make comments that you eat too much or you always were hungry. That’s when you not only developed insecurities about your body but you’re eating as well. You would notice when you went out with friends they wouldn’t eat much and you didn’t want to be the one eating more than everyone else.
So whenever you were with Bucky he would always suggest getting food or having a snack. Who knew super soldiers that workout all the time eat so much. Your reaction to this was always say you’re not hungry, you ate before you came over, you didn’t feel good, you had a list of excuses. You never ate more than a couple bites or a small snack of anything. You would always wait to eat when you got home.
Thankfully your relationship was young and you were taking things slow, you had never spent more than a day together and never spent the night at each other’s places. That was until one night when it was quite stormy and dark.
…
You and Bucky were sitting in his apartment on his couch, you had your legs tucked under you and were snuggled up to his side, head on his chest, with his arm around you. You were very comfortable and very warm, your eyes started getting heavy and you felt truly at peace in his arms.
Bucky starts rubbing up and down your arm to get your attention, he turns his head away from the tv screen in front of you and looks down at your curled up form tucked into his side.
“Hey it’s getting kinda late, I would say maybe you would want to go home but I don’t like you going out in this weather. How would you feel about maybe staying the night?”
You reach out for your phone on the table in front of you to check the time. It’s 11pm and it’s storming out. Rain is coming down hard, wind whipping, and it’s freezing out, he has a point you don’t really want to go through the city in this weather at this time of night.
You think about what he said, about staying the night. It sounds so nice being able to fall asleep next to him, but you can’t help but think about the pain in your stomach. Your so hungry, and eating in front of him seems so embarrassing, especially to have to ask for food. You planned to just eat when you went home, when Buck had ordered food earlier he asked what you wanted you said you weren’t really hungry you had a late lunch. The truth was you were hungry and you forgot to eat before you came over, you figured it would be fine though because you could just wait until you got home. Now that won’t be until tomorrow morning.
“Yeah, I mean I would love to stay if it’s not too much of a hassle”
He smiles from ear to ear throwing his arms around you and pulling you into him.
“Oh yeah! I get my girl all night now”
You can’t help but laugh at his goofy reaction, he’s truly such a sweet soul. You are laying half in his lap as he gently kisses your head, turns you around and places you so your head is laying in his lap looking up at him.
“This is so exciting, this is our first time spending a night together. I’ll get you some clothes to change into and you can shower if you want, are you hungry because you haven’t eaten anything all day.”
You simply smile up at him as he softly tucks your hair behind your ear.
“I’m okay, I told you I had a late lunch. And im not ready to go to bed yet can we stay like this for a little longer”
Still playing with your hair and looking down at you with a sweet smile he responds. “I’d be happy to stay like this for the rest of our lives. But maybe you could eat something, even if you had a late lunch it’s been hours and i worry”
He moves his other hand to rest on your stomach, if he had tried to do that at the beginning of your relationship you would have freaked, but he’s showed you that he truly loves every part of you even the parts you are the most insecure about. You rest your hand over his on your belly to reassure him you are fine.
“I’m not hungry I’m fine.”
“But you don’t eat enough, I barely see you eat. Please just have at least a little bit for my peace of mind.”
Just as you go to open your mouth and speak you feel and hear your stomach make horrible noises as if screaming to take Bucky up on the offer of food. You just close your mouth and look away from Bucky feeling guilty for lying to his face and embarrassed for having your stomach be loud enough to drown out the television.
“Let’s go, come on im making you some dinner” He sits you up and stands in front of you with his hands out ready to take yours. You still can’t process what just happened, you are beyond embarrassed. So you look up stunned at not only his reaction but his persistence in wanting to care for you, you take both his hands and stand up.
He moves both your hands into one of his and walks you towards his kitchen island, where he pulls out a chair for you and motions for you to sit. He then rounds the counter and opens the fridge taking inventory.
“Okay so we could do spaghetti, Mac and cheese, a pb&j or a grilled cheese. Pick your poison baby” He lists off all the options and turns to look over his shoulder at you.
You look up from picking at your fingers and see him gazing back at you, waiting for an answer. “Umm whatever is easiest is fine, thank you” your response is quiet but he hears you and starts to take things out of the fridge.
As he makes you food he hums soft melodies of old songs from his childhood. Swiftly and easily moving throughout the kitchen without any hesitation or look of upset.
“Here you go doll, eat up please it’s made with extra love” he places the dish right in front of you and turns to grab you some water. On the plate in front of you is two grilled cheese sandwiches, cut into perfect triangles.
Bucky places water down next to you and then takes the seat beside you.
“Please eat” he says as he places a hand on your back rubbing up and down your spine.
“Why did you make me two, I don’t need that much.” You say in a slightly anxious way.
“Well because I didn’t know how much you wanted and I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable to ask for more if you wanted it, that’s all. Just eat what you want and leave what you don’t, it’s not big deal.”
You look at your plate, you are really hungry and it looks so good. You pick up a half and take a bite, it’s just as good as it looked. But you can’t help but feel awkward just having him watch you eat. “Will you eat too, I feel weird eating alone”
“Of course you don’t have to ask me twice I’m always ready to eat” so he picks up another half and takes a bite.
You both sit and eat in silence for a minute until he places a hand on your knee and asks you a question. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were hungry, earlier or now? I feel like your never hungry, or at least that’s what you tell me. What’s the matter baby, tell me”
You swallow the grilled cheese and take a sip of water to wash it down before speaking.
“I don’t know I feel weird asking for food, I mean I feel weird eating in front of people in general especially you. Your so..you know all muscles and hotness and I’m squishy, I guess I just didn’t want you to judge me.”
The hand in your knee grips a little tighter, “Oh baby no don’t think like that. First of all I think your all curves and hotness so don’t ever think I’ll judge you for what you look like or eat. I love you so much and I don’t want you to feel like you have to go hungry while your with me because you think I’ll judge you for eating. It doesn’t make any sense to me baby, you need to eat that’s what keeps you alive and healthy and full of energy.”
“It’s not that I don’t eat, I just don’t like eating in front of people. Maybe you think I’ll eat too much or that I don’t eat all super healthy food. People can be really mean, and I think I just developed ways to stay safe from judgment.”
He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head, holding you close. “Oh honey, your always safe with me. You could tell me you wanted to eat six whole pizzas and I’d buy them for you, sit next to you and eat seven myself. You are never going to be judged by me, never I promise you. But you have to promise me that you will eat when your hungry because I worry. Can you do that?”
You lean back and look him in the eyes, nodding your head yes. “Yeah I can do that”
At this point you both finished your food and are ready to get settled in for the night. Bucky takes the dirty plate and puts it in the sink to take care of tomorrow.
You follow him to his room where he pulls out some clothes for you. He hands you a shirt and a pair of boxers then leads you to the bathroom.
“Here is all my shampoo and soapy stuff, and I there are some extra toothbrushes under the sink. Help yourself to whatever you need, and I’ll be just out there watching some tv.”
You offer him a warm smile and he leans in, grabs your jaw and places a soft kiss on your lips. He was such a good man and he did everything he could to make you comfortable. It’s like he was your saving grace ready to scrub away all the dirt and scuffs people had left on your shiny soul and bright heart. So that way he can show you how beautiful of a person you are under all the damage people have done.
While in the shower you can’t help but feel like a weight had been lifted off you after your conversation tonight. You know Bucky loves everything about you and it makes you feel like all the bad things people had ever said to you didn’t matter anymore. The one person that does matter is erasing all those negative things they ever planted in your mind.
You wash up and brush your teeth, then put on the clothes that Bucky let you borrow. The shirt hung loose over your body stopping just below your hips, the boxers were soft and comfortable.
You leave the bathroom and walk into the bedroom to see Bucky leaning back in the bed on his phone. He’s wearing a pair of shorts and no shirt, and boy does he look pretty.
“Did you have a nice shower doll?” He asks not looking your way, he then turns his head to look at you. “Oh don’t you look pretty in my clothes.”
You laugh and walk up to the edge of the bed, pull the blankets back and sit down. “Your crazy, James I swear”
“Oh first the clothes now calling me James, ughh you are doing something to me.”
You blush and look at him, both of you with goofy smiles on your face. You and him have never done anything like that before. (taking things slow, remember) So you knew he was mostly just trying to get you flustered, and it was working.
You both get fully under the blankets and snuggle up together, you being the little spoon. You were never a small girl but next to him you felt like it. It felt comfortable and safe, like you knew nothing bad could happen when he was by your side.
He rests his hand over yours on your stomach, giving it a slight rub. “Is your tummy nice and happy, she’s not hungry anymore?”
You laugh at his silly question but you know he’s serious and he really does care. “Yeah she’s good”
“Good, if my girl is happy then I’m happy. Good night my love sweet dreams.”
“Sweet dreams Bucky, I love you.”
That night you dreamt of grilled cheese, your sexy shirtless boyfriend and his caring heart. The best part is, when you wake up in the morning it’s all real and it’s all yours.
——————————————————————————
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Rest Had Seemed The Sweetest Thing.
Bucky's slowly learning that love isn't a finite resource. aka, Bucky's first Christmas.
pairing - bucky barnes x female reader
warnings - none!! just tooth rottingly sweet fluff <3
word count - 1.7k
author's note - based on these two requests!! i'm also trying a new post format... what do we think?? I promised you i'd get a couple of xmas fics out before the 25th... I lied. apologies!! forgive me. title taken from the poem The Owl by Edward Thomas.
as always, if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics. thanks, angels <3
masterlist. inbox.
He whispers the words, timid and reserved, directly into your ear as if he's worried someone else will hear. It's only the two of you sat on the couch in your shared apartment, but Bucky's nervous.
Your head whips around in shock, trying to play it cool. Failed.
"Are you... are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure."
You grin, big and blinding, the beams of it radiating into Bucky's bones. It settles into his muscles, eases the tension from his shoulders.
You try not to make a big deal of it, try to keep your excitement under wraps. But you've been waiting for him to say those words for almost six years.
"I want to do Christmas this year."
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
He hates the cold.
No, he's traumatised by the cold.
Years spent frozen, genetically modified and locked in a glorified freezer. Every gust of wind, every flake of snow reminds him of the darkest days with no light to be seen. His blood may run hot, but he feels like his heart is yet to thaw. He debates moving to the desert at least ten times a day.
Then he looks at you. How happy you are when winter comes around. The way your face lights up when it snows. And he figures that if it brings you this much joy... maybe he can tolerate it.
He bites back the chill, grits his teeth at the icy breeze, ignores the shudder of the cold all the way down to his bones. He grins and bears it, because you love it. He thinks you don't notice.
You do.
You've known ever since you met him. His demeanour changes when the winter comes around. He gets a little tentative around the autumn time, as if he's preparing himself for the worst. And then the first snow falls, and he's different. Guarded. Careful. Reluctant. He puts a fake smile on his face and pretends, but you're nothing if not completely in tune with everything Bucky Barnes.
You never asked, never pried. Just stood steadily by his side, regardless of the walls he'd placed around himself. Around his heart.
He broke down one night, wrapped up in bed with you. A chill had blown through your old apartments rickety windows and unearthed old memories, ice running into his veins. He was sure his tears were frozen as they dripped down his face.
You understood him better, since that day.
You've tried to suggest moving in subtle and not so subtle ways, but he won't have it. He knows this is your home. He knows you like it here. He knows he can stay, if he works a little harder on himself.
So, he tries. Every single day, he tries. And that's all that matters.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"Okay, so... ground rules. Hit me, Buck. We do this on your terms."
He thinks for a moment before turning to face you.
"I want it to be just us. No one else."
"Done."
"And I don't wanna do the whole Christmas dinner thing. Feels like too much all at once."
You fight the urge to burst into tears at how easily he's communicating with you, how effortlessly he's enforcing his boundaries. You've come a long way.
"Done. Agreed, by the way. Fuck Christmas dinner. We'll do our own thing."
He grins at you, leaning in to kiss you slowly, tenderly, leisurely. Like you have all the time in the world.
"I want to get a tree. And lights. We don't have to do all the ornaments and stuff, but lights would be nice."
"I have an artificial tree in the back of the storage closet... is that okay?"
"Perfect. I don't want to stand on all the pine needles, anyway."
Laughing, you shift closer to him, tangling your legs together on the couch.
"And no gifts for me."
"But Buck-"
"Angel. I don't want anything. I have everything I need sat next to me."
You roll your eyes, but you can't wipe the smile off your face.
"This isn't fair, suddenly."
"It's plenty fair. You stress too much when you buy gifts, and this is going to be a stress free Christmas. Understood?"
He hooks his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him.
"Understood," you whisper, swinging your knee over so you're straddling him. "Stress free."
Bucky tilts his head up to kiss you, gentle at first, then firmer when you roll your hips into his. He's a little distracted, admittedly. He got you to promise not to get him anything, but made sure you wouldn't ask the same. His mind runs a mile a minute, trying to wrack his brain on what kind of gift to get for the love of his life, the person that saved him and continues to save him every single day.
He comes up empty, but lets you kiss the thoughts away for a little while.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"My mom taught me this specific way to hang lights on your tree. Look, grab this end and I'll show you."
You're both still in your pyjamas, fire roaring, a jazzy Christmas melody playing from the radio. You decided you wouldn't put up your tree until the day before, to save Bucky from feeling overwhelmed. It's worked, so far - he looks plenty relaxed as he chuckles and rises from the armchair.
"You're tall, so hold this above your head so they don't tangle."
You work diligently, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you concentrate. Bucky's happy to watch you, fighting the smile off his face every time you sigh in exasperation. Eventually, you step back and admire your masterpiece, satisfied and content.
"It's beautiful, baby," he whispers, wrapping his arms around you from behind.
He presses a kiss into your neck, then another, then another. Your eyes slip closed, and you sink into his embrace, feeling more at peace than you ever thought possible. You spend the evening by the fire, lying on the rug, room illuminated by the lights on the tree.
It's perfect in every way.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"Merry Christmas, angel."
"Merry Christmas, Buck."
His hand finds yours under the duvet, pulling you in close. You tangle yourself around him like lights on a tree, all encompassed by his warmth.
"What's the plan for today, Sergeant?"
He presses a kiss into your temple, propping himself up on his elbow so he can see you properly.
"I say we make some breakfast, spend all day on the couch, and then maybe make some dinner? I know we said we wouldn't do a traditional Christmas dinner, but it'd still be nice to take the time to cook something."
"That sounds perfect."
In the kitchen, you make pancakes with copious amounts of maple syrup, strawberries and pieces of banana strewn across your plates.
"My Mom made us pancakes every Christmas morning, you know."
"You've never told me that."
"I know. I kind of refrained from ever talking about anything festive, because I didn't want you to feel guilty."
"For making you miss out for so many years?"
"I haven't missed out, baby. I chose not to do Christmas because I love you. And that love takes precedent over everything else."
Bucky kisses you then, across the kitchen table, full and golden and so full of love you almost fall off your chair. He tastes like blueberry jam and syrup and coffee, and you wish you could bottle it up and stick a little under your tongue when you get homesick.
"What changed?"
"Hmm?"
"Why now? I would have been content to never do Christmas again, if it made you happy."
"Because I realised something, a couple of months ago. We were sat in the park, and you were laughing at that dog chasing the boomerang. The sun was making you glow, like some sort of angel, and I just knew. I can do anything with you by my side. I can't put my future on hold because of my past."
You're fighting back tears as you look at him, so happy and content. You never thought this was possible, when you first met him.
And here you are.
Celebrating Christmas, showing him your childhood traditions, making pancakes like your Mama used to. You're sat at the kitchen table as the snow falls outside and the warmth that Bucky's love brings is keeping the chill at bay.
It doesn't get better than this.
"I got you something," he murmurs almost sheepishly.
"Bucky-"
"Don't yell at me! I know it makes me a hypocrite, I know I said no gifts, I know."
You roll your eyes, but watch his every move as he gets up and leaves the room. You finish your breakfast and put both of your plates in the sink, turning on the tap so they can soak. When you turn around, Bucky has returned.
He's on one knee.
There's a ring between his fingers, glinting in the winter sun. You're both still in your pyjamas, warm and full, not quite having shaken off the heavy embrace of sleep just yet.
It's perfect.
"Maybe it's cliche to propose on Christmas day, but... I want to replace all of my old memories with new ones. Memories like this."
You walk over to him, kneeling down in front of him so your eyes are level.
"You've taught me what love is, baby. And I can never repay you for that. But I can certainly try. Every day, I can try."
There are tears dripping down both of your cheeks, Bucky's grin matching yours. The two of you are overwhelmed in the best way, unsure of how to process the gravity of what you're feeling.
"Marry me, baby. Let's do this forever."
You lunge forward and smash your lips to his, laughing into his mouth.
"Yes," you breathe when you pull away. "God, yes. A million times yes, Buck."
His arms wrap around your middle as he picks you up, twirling you in circles around the kitchen, both of you shrieking with joy.
Bucky slips the ring onto your finger when he puts you down, both of you tilting your heads to admire it.
"I love you," you murmur, leaning up to press your foreheads together. "The cold can't touch you now, baby. This love will warm us forever."
The cold can't touch him now. Love will warm him forever.
@lizzystuffsthings <3
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Rescued by Love Epilogue
★ Summary: Your brother Steve always hated you after your mother's death and when he finally gets the family's empire he is ready to sell you off to some toxic marriage but will the knight and shining armor save you or make it worse?
★ Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader
★ Warnings: Arranged Marriage
★ Genre: Angst/ Fluff
Masterlist
The grand gala was the talk of the town, a glittering affair held in one of New York's most luxurious ballrooms. The city's elite had gathered there, draped in opulent gowns and tailored suits, to witness the unveiling of the mysterious newcomer in the South's burgeoning mafia world. Rumors had swirled for weeks about this enigmatic figure, someone who was rapidly amassing power and influence, even threatening the established crime families.
As the anticipation built in the lead-up to the gala, Bucky found himself standing with Steve in a quiet corner of the ballroom, their expressions a mix of curiosity and anticipation.
"You sure about this, Steve?" Bucky asked, his gaze scanning the elegantly dressed crowd. "You really think this new guy gonna show up here?"
Steve nodded, his eyes focused on the entrance. "Yeah, Buck, I'm pretty sure. My sources are usually spot-on about these things. Whoever this guy is, he's been making waves down South. The word is, he's looking to expand his reach, and he's already got some of the old families nervous."
Bucky's brow furrowed. "Any idea who he might be?"
Steve shrugged. "Not much to go on, really. The details are pretty scarce. But the way I hear it, he's strategic, smart, and ruthless. He's got people willing to follow him without question, and that's how he's been able to rise so quickly."
Bucky crossed his arms, his brow furrowing. "But why would he come all the way up here? And why would they even consider teaming up with us?"
Steve leaned in, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. "It's about strength, Bucky. This new guy wants to expand their reach, and allying with us would give them the backing they need. And in return, we'd gain access to their resources and connections."
Bucky's skepticism was evident. "Steve, I get the whole strength in numbers thing, but we don't even know who this guy is. He could be some hotshot rookie who's in over his head."
Steve nodded, acknowledging Bucky's concerns. "I know it's a risk, but sometimes you gotta take chances to come out on top. The potential rewards are too big to ignore."
Bucky let out a sigh, his uncertainty still lingering. "I just hope this guy shows up. I mean, what if he's got cold feet or something? We're all here waiting, and he might not even come through."
Steve gave Bucky a reassuring pat on the back. "Look, we'll know soon enough. And if he's half as smart as we think he is, he'll understand the benefits of this alliance. We just need to stay patient and keep our eyes open."
As the grand gala unfolded, the tension in the air seemed to thicken. Bucky and Steve continued to scan the crowd, their curiosity about the new mafia leader heightening with every passing moment. The anticipation reached a crescendo as the room fell into an expectant hush, all eyes locked onto the entrance.
And then, you walked in.
The room erupted into a mixture of gasps, whispers, and stunned silence. Bucky's eyes widened, his heart racing, as he watched you glide through the entrance with a confidence that commanded attention. He couldn't believe what he was seeing – you, his ex-wife, the last person he expected to be connected to the dangerous underworld they navigated.
As the shock spread through the crowd, Steve turned to Bucky, his own surprise evident in his expression. "Buck... is that...?"
Bucky's voice was barely a whisper as he confirmed the truth, his disbelief clear. "What she-she's been gone for so long it can't"
"Buck, I'm telling you, she's probably just the wife," Steve asserted, his tone condescending. "I mean, look at her. She's not exactly radiating power and authority. This whole setup screams 'arm candy' more than anything else."
Bucky's brows furrowed as he looked at Steve, his own doubts mixing with a growing frustration. He had kept his silence thus far, grappling with his own shock and uncertainty, but he couldn't let Steve's dismissive words go unanswered.
As Bucky approached you, his heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. He felt a rush of emotions seeing you again, especially in such unexpected circumstances.
Meanwhile, Steve's rant continued behind him, his words trailing off as he noticed Bucky's departure. "Buck, where are you going? You can't seriously be buying into this—"
But Bucky had already reached you, his gaze locking onto yours as he tried to read the truth in your expression. The chatter of the gala around them seemed to fade into the background as he stood before you, the weight of their shared history heavy in the air.
"Hey," Bucky began, his voice soft and uncertain. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Your silence seemed to stretch on for a moment before you finally spoke, your words cutting through the air with a chilling precision. "Bucky," you said, your tone icy. "It's not a crime to attend a gala, last time I checked."
Bucky felt his heart sink at your tone, the distance between you tangible. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
Your gaze remained fixed on him, the coldness in your expression unwavering. "I have business," you replied simply, your tone leaving no room for further questions.
Bucky couldn't help but blurt out the question that had been nagging at him. "You joined the crime business? I thought you hated it." Bucky says with a growing smile on his face as a way to lighten the mood.
Your lips curved into a cold smile, and your response was laced with a sharpness that took him aback. "Noo who told you that." you said chuckling at his question "I just hated the way you and Steve acted the second you joined it, thinking you were big shit." you say still smiling knowing that the remark was gonna struck a nerve.
Before Bucky can respond, a man walks up to you whispering something into your ear and then guides you to a room, full of some of the biggest bosses the West has to offer.
As the night wore on, Bucky found himself watching you from a distance, unable to shake the unease that had settled in his chest. He knew he needed to make amends, to bridge the gap that had grown between you. And so, as the gala drew to a close and you seemed ready to leave, he made a decision.
He approached you with a determined stride, his words rushed and heartfelt. "Wait, I just... I wanted to say I'm sorry. For everything. I'm sorry I was the reason you left"
Your expression remained guarded, but there was a flicker of something in your eyes. Before you could respond, however, Steve appeared beside Bucky, his glare directed at you.
"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of regret. "I needed space, time to figure things out."
Bucky sighed, his eyes filled with understanding. "I'm so sorry. I should've been a better husband. I neglected you when you needed me the most."
His words hung in the air, heavy with remorse. The memories of your turbulent marriage and the pain it had brought resurfaced, but you could see the sincerity in his eyes, and it touched a chord within you.
"I've moved on, Bucky," you said, your voice tinged with compassion. "I've learned to be independent."
Bucky nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. "You've done well for yourself."
You acknowledged his words with a nod, your gaze lingering on him for a moment before you turned to leave once more.
"Take care" Bucky called after you, his voice filled with a mix of longing and acceptance.
As you walked away, Steve couldn't resist adding a remark. "You know, there was a time when life was simpler, happier, before you came into it. You just got to ruin it by coming back"
Bucky snapped his head at Steve but before he could respond you turned to him to speak to Steve instead.
"Well, Steve," you retorted with a touch of irony, "I guess life's full of surprises, isn't it?."
With that parting shot, you left Steve behind, striding away from the gala without looking back. The night was filled with possibilities, and the outcome of your journey remained uncertain. In this world of shadows and secrets, you had no time for sentimental reflections on the past. You were determined to thrive, no matter the cost, leaving the complicated relationships of your history in your wake.
fin
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