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rookthorne · 1 year

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭

“Don’t make a big deal,” Bucky said — “I have all I need right here,” he insisted. A shame, really, that he had thought that you had listened, and you wouldn’t make a big deal of it; he was so wrong, and he would be better off for being so, for when a paw touched your heart, it would never leave.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 🐾 Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 🐾 4.5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 🐾 Tooth rotting fluff

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 🐾 I think this is the fluffiest thing I have ever written, and the visual of a certain scene seriously overwhelmed me with how fluffy it is — make sure to book in with your dentist after this one, folks. 🐾 Happy Birthday to the character that changed my life 🥳🎉

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 🐾 @buckybarnesevents — Bucky's Birthday Bash 🐾 @allcapsbingo 𝗢𝟮 — Alpine — Masterlist

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Bucky had made it expressly clear that his birthday was not a big deal, and it was to not be made into a ‘thing’. “‘M fine, doll. I have all I need right here,” he had said while holding you tightly.

Naturally, of course, you didn’t listen.

March rolled ‘round so fast it left you reeling. The days on the calendar steadily got crossed off until they reached the giant red circle around the big day, March 10th.

The morning air was crisp, and the yellow glow of the sun through the sheer drapes woke you from sleep, combined with the weight of Bucky’s arm draped over your hip–it wasn’t a surprise that you’d mistaken it for heaven.

Your plan was ninety-five percent set in stone, having called ahead the week before and yesterday, much to the amusement of the employees and volunteers you had spoken to – you were on a first name basis now, with all of them.

All that was needed for your plan to be one hundred percent certain, and ready to go?

Coffee. It was some damn good coffee.

“No,” Bucky’s muffled voice came from the crook of your neck when you moved, and you smiled. Testing the waters, you shifted again, only slightly. “I said no,” Bucky grumbled, his voice raspy with sleep. The arm resting over your hip moved to cradle just under your chest, the grip tight and firm. “Not gettin’ up.”

You shuffled and turned in his arms until you faced him, his arms still around you and holding you to his chest with no sign of relenting anytime soon. “Happy birthday, Buck,” you whispered, kissing him on the nose sweetly.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, pulling you impossibly closer. “Now lemme sleep.”

“C’mon.” Your hands pushed against his chest and he whined in protest. “You need to get up, babe.”

“Why?” Bucky cracked an eye open and stared at you suspiciously. “I told you this wasn’t a big deal.”

“I know,” you agreed, though you smiled innocently and widened your eyes so the sun’s rays would make them sparkle – Bucky could never resist that look, you knew. “But I didn’t listen.”

“Of course you didn’t listen,” Bucky sighed. You giggled and pushed back until he released you from his hold, and he rolled over onto his back with a groan. “Can I at least have some coffee before you spring anythin’ on me?”

“Sure, Sarge.” The bed sheets rustled as you moved to the edge of the bed. “We have a big day ahead of us, I don’t want you grumpy–well, grumpier than you usually are, for it.”

Bucky only grunted in response, and you chuckled.

The cup of hot coffee seemed to brighten Bucky up for your plan as you hoped, though the traces of frustration in his expression – the slight pout of his lips and the furrow of his brow when you consistently brushed off or denied his questions of just what the hell you had planned for the day, made you smirk cheekily. It was like dangling a prize just out of reach; a game that you were in the long haul for and wouldn’t ruin so soon, no matter how tempting his bribes were.

“You will just have to wait and see,” you said. Bucky huffed and rolled his eyes as he leant against the doorway, his arms crossed and lips still pouted in exaggerated defiance. You stared at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Bucky raised a brow, the beginnings of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Like what?”

“Like that,” you gestured to his face, then down to his chest that was straining against his Henley. “Don’t.”

“Oh, are you struggling, baby?” Bucky cooed and you glared at him. Bastard, you thought. “You wouldn’t struggle so much if you just told me, I’ll make it worth it, I promise.”

Oh, it was tempting.

“No,” you snapped, pointing a finger and jamming it into his chest–his much too toned and muscled chest that you wanted- “No, stop that, I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing, baby girl?” Bucky hummed and it was all you could do to not give in. You had to remain strong – his present counted on it! You groaned and stalked away to get dressed, leaving a laughing Bucky in your wake.

An hour later the two of you were dressed comfortably. Bucky wore a grey shirt and his favourite burgundy Henley, paired with jeans, the pair that fit his thighs so snuggly it was almost impossible to resist. A black baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes, mostly ‘to keep his unruly hair in check’, though you knew it was because he didn’t want to be seen – be recognised.

“Now,” you started and Bucky looked at you curiously. “I need you to either use this,” you held up an eye mask that was nondescript and soft, “or you need to keep your eyes closed. It’s your choice, babe, but I want this to be a surprise.”

“Kinky,” Bucky muttered and you laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll just keep my eyes closed, promise.”

Bucky’s car came to life with a loud purr and he tensed next to you. “I won’t hurt your baby,” you laughed and Bucky looked at you guiltily, a small smirk on his lips betraying his playful nature. “Here,” you said, grabbing his hand and placing it on your thigh. “Close your eyes for me–no funny business!” You shrieked when his hand moved higher and he laughed.

“Alright, alright.” Bucky’s hand moved closer to your knee and he closed his eyes as you put the car in gear. If Bucky’s grip tightened on the door handle, you ignored it.

The drive was only a short one, but your excitement to see his reaction made it stretch to be unbearable. Songs played over the radio while Bucky hummed along quietly and when you stopped at traffic lights, your hand found Bucky’s and you squeezed, making him smile softly.

“Almost there,” you said when a large park came into view. The energy that flooded you made you vibrate out of your skin with excitement, and Bucky picked up on it.

“Too much coffee, sweetheart,” Bucky chuckled, and you shushed him while you pulled into an empty park – right out front of the building, where a sign painted with big block letters loomed over the windshield of his car.

SHELTER.

You turned the ignition and the car shut off, the once loud purr now silent so you could hear distant barks of the dogs running amok in the park and being led amongst the alleys and buildings.

“Are… are those, dogs?” Bucky shifted, furrowing his brows in confusion. “What-”

“We’re here, babe,” you whispered, grabbing his hand and holding it. He squeezed yours once and his head turned towards you, eyes still closed. “Open your eyes for me.”

Icy blue irises met yours and the pupils were blown, quickly shrinking to be normal while he stared at you with narrowed eyes, his suspicions still not confirmed. “Why are there dogs? Where are we?”

“Look.” You pointed out the windshield towards the sign.

Time slowed to a stop as Bucky turned his head so his gaze could focus on the sign. His lips, once set in a slight frown of confusion, opened wide to let out a gasp of shock. The grip he had on your hand tightened as he leant forward in his seat to stare at the sign – looking for any sign of a ruse, or a trick.

“It’s real, Buck–baby, we’re here,” you rushed when he started to tremble slightly. The shock and joy overwhelmed him and rendered him speechless. “Breathe for me.”

Bucky slowly took deep, grounding breaths and you smiled when he looked back at you with unrestrained glee, his eyes bright with tears. “Y-You brought me here? Here?”

“I did,” you said softly and Bucky hiccuped. “I know you’ve been wanting a pet of your own after your therapist suggested it–truth be told, she told me long before she told you, I’ve been hatching this plan for a while now. I wanted it to be perfect.”

Bucky just stared at you in wonder, and you stared back with all the love you could convey.

“Happy birthday, babe,” you whispered into the silence and a single tear fell down Bucky’s cheek. You wiped it away with your thumb and he leant into your touch. “I love you, so much.”

“I love you more, doll,” Bucky whispered.

“Now, c’mon!” You rushed, unbuckling your seat belt and opening the car door. “Let’s go!”

You held Bucky’s hand tightly as you led the way – Bucky was far too overwhelmed and staring at everything in awe, the dogs, their handlers, the hustle and bustle of the workers and volunteers.

The main reception was a small building, cosy and homely with soft neutral tones and wooden floor boards, with well-loved couches and seats scattered about the waiting area.

“Hey there! Welcome,” a lady said from behind the main desk. She was an elderly woman, her smile bright and happy. “What can I do for you?”

“I called ahead,” you said and supplied your name. Bucky was too busy taking in the environment to pay attention. “And this is Bucky.”

“Ah! Hello, dear,” the woman replied, a twinkle in her eye. “My name is Deb, take a seat for me and someone will be right out to bring you back.”

Bucky followed you without a word when you moved to sit on a couch to wait. There was soft music playing over the speakers and Bucky kept looking around, not in fear – the tells of his expression were only of nerves, and excitement. You placed your hand on his bouncing knee and smiled at him warmly. “You doing okay, babe?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky said, his voice strained. “Just–just happy, I can’t believe it-”

You brought Bucky’s hand up to your lips and kissed his knuckles, a soothing act to his fraying nerves. “I know, I can’t wait.”

A call of your name came from the desk and you looked over to see another staff member, a woman about your age with dark hair. Her smile was contagious and she looked as though she was bouncing on the spot with excitement. “I’m Cherie,” she said, offering her hand to shake. “Come with me, I’ll take you back. Though I gotta warn you, they are extra cuddly today.”

“They?” Bucky whispered, and Cherie grinned.

“They,” Cherie affirmed. “It’s for the best that you dressed comfortably, you will likely be stuck with them for a while. Lil’ terrors, they are.”

Bucky looked at you with barely restrained excitement and you nodded encouragingly. “They,” he repeated just above a whisper. “Oh, no, baby–am I looking at-”

“Wait and see, Buck,” you replied, pulling him along. The corridors were bright with sunlight and painted in neutral tones, a natural, peaceful atmosphere you were grateful for. Bucky was already struggling with the fact he was out and about, throwing extreme levels of excitement in the mix and it would be a recipe for disaster if you weren’t careful.

“We’re just down here,” Cherie said cheerily, pointing towards a set of double doors with yellow paw prints painted along the bottom. “Are you ready?”

You looked at Bucky and he smiled nervously. “We’re ready,” you answered Cherie, still looking at Bucky. “You got this, babe, I’m here.” A squeeze to his hand that he returned zealously.

“Here we go,” Cherie gushed, her voice high in excitement and the double doors opened with a quiet whoosh. The sight made you gasp in shock while Bucky stared in awe. The room was vast. Glass pens filled to the brim with blankets and beds lined two opposing walls, while towering cat trees were placed against the far wall, their height perfect for the cats to look through a window that spanned the top half of the wall, the view of the play yards the perfect enrichment.

“Holy cow,” Bucky whispered, his eyes bright with wonder and curiosity. “Oh my-” A mewling noise cut him off and the two of you looked to the source.

Kittens.

Kittens of all shapes, colours, and sizes, were scrabbling against the glass door of their pen; their little mouths wide with cries for love and cuddles, for scratches and pets. It was enough to bring tears to your eyes, they were so damn cute.

“Oh my gosh,” you whispered, rushing over while Bucky stood rooted to the spot and staring wide eyed at the kittens jostling to get closer to your presence. “They’re so cute, oh my gosh!”

“That they are!” Cherie agreed. She was bustling around and grabbing large pillows and blankets. “This litter seems to be the cuddliest we’ve had yet, so you’re in luck.”

You looked over your shoulder and up to Bucky. “C’mere, babe, it’s okay,” you encouraged, offering a hand out for him to hold. “It’s okay.” Slowly, ever so slowly, Bucky took your offered hand and crouched down beside you. “Aren’t they adorable?”

“They are,” Bucky whispered, reaching a finger out to the glass and watching the kittens scrabble over one another just to touch, to feel the newcomer’s touch.

A shuffling sound and a soft plop echoed behind you, and you looked over to find Cherie placing two large pillows on the floor – close, but not too close. “Are you two ready for me to let them out?”

You stood and pulled Bucky up with you. He hadn’t worn his gloves today so you held his right hand, and grabbed a hold of the cold metal of his left. “Listen, babe,” you began softly, and Bucky finally tore his eyes away from the fluffy kittens to look at you. There was a glint in his eyes, a sparkle of happiness you hadn’t seen before – you immediately knew this was the best idea that his therapist could have come up with. “They’re gonna crowd you, they’re gonna be loud,” you continued, even softer. “But you are safe, you’re with me, and you won’t hurt them,” for emphasis, you squeezed his left hand and he glanced down at it, then back up at you. “I promise, okay?”

Bucky’s throat worked as he swallowed thickly, and he gave a slow, single nod. “Okay.”

God, you were so proud of him.

“We’re ready,” you said to Cherie, leading Bucky to the pillows. Sitting down with a quiet oof, you took Bucky’s hand and squeezed it while Cherie walked to the door of the pen. “Proud of you, babe,” you whispered to Bucky while Cherie’s back was turned, and he smiled happily.

“All right,” Cherie began, turning around so you could see her wide grin. “Batten the hatches, here they come.”

The door swung open, and it was pandemonium. Kittens ran everywhere, their cries and meows of determination to find their way to your laps first was incredibly endearing. A few stragglers chose to adventure rather than run amongst the charging cavalry.

“Whoa!”

You looked at Bucky quickly, afraid he was too overwhelmed, but instead your heart soared. Bucky was sitting stock still, wide-eyed, and his hands trembled slightly where they rested on his knees, but he was covered in kittens. They were climbing determinedly into his lap and up his stomach and up his arms with one mission in mind; to get the first cuddle from the newcomer.

Cherie was laughing softly from her place by the door and you followed suit. The look of wonder on Bucky’s face had only doubled in intensity as he watched the little balls of fluff fight over who got to his face first.

A small black kitten won the race in the end. Bucky moved so slowly, so carefully, to cradle it in his large hand where it mewled and rubbed over his fingers. The others continued to claw up his front until a calico reached his shoulder to meow right into Bucky’s ear, but he didn’t even flinch. “Hey, little guy,” he cooed, picking the calico up from his shoulder with his free hand, his left hand. “You’re so small…”

Your heart grew so big at the sight you were sure it would burst from your chest. Bucky was so gentle, so careful, with the kittens – treating them so delicately, even when he was petrified of the thought of hurting them with his strength. You knew he had it in him, but here he was, proving to himself that he was indeed capable of being gentle, of being a beefy, living, breathing cat tree.

Kittens were beginning to meander about, their curiosity winning out over the giant man in their presence in favour of coming to investigate you. “Hey, lil’ guys,” you whispered happily, scratching a ginger kitten and a brown kitten behind the ears. “You’re all so cute!”

You looked over at Bucky while you played with a black and white one that had barrelled its way through the ginger and brown one, and you paused. He was frozen with a lap full of kittens, though he wasn’t looking at them, any of them. “Babe, are you okay?”

Bucky didn’t answer right away and you grew worried, until you glanced towards where he was staring. A small kitten, no bigger than your palm, sat huddled just out of reach and it was shivering, the long white fur of its coat trembling with the movements of its body. It was a little odd – all of the other kittens were playful and bouncing around, though not this one.

“This little one had a rough start,” Cherie said softly, crouching down and offering an open palm to the tiny kitten. “Her mother was hit and killed by a car and this lil’ one was found in an alley. A young man brought her in, and she’s been in our care ever since. She only recently became old enough to be amongst this lot.”

“She’s so small,” Bucky said, looking at Cherie fully for the first time. “Why is she so small?”

“We don’t know,” Cherie answered sadly, a small frown tugging at the corner of her lips. “Though she is healthy, she’s just… small.”

“Can I-” Bucky began, but stopped. He started to chew his lip in thought.

You looked at him and watched his expression tighten, tears remarkably clouded his eyes and he frowned sadly. “What is it, babe?”

Bucky looked at you, almost pleading, then back to the kitten, and then up at Cherie. “Can I hold her?” His voice was small, quiet. Cherie looked taken aback at the question for a brief second but she covered it with a smile.

“Of course you can, love.” Cherie stood and shuffled back to the door. “Do you want the others to go back? We can take you to a quieter room for this lil’ nervous ball of fluff, yeah?”

“Yes, please,” Bucky murmured. He scratched a few of the kittens in his lap behind the ears and cooed to them in farewell, before picking them up carefully and offering them up to Cherie.

You helped Cherie herd the kitten back into their pen until the fluffy, tiny one remained; huddled on the floor and looking up at Bucky with bright, wide blue eyes.

“Hello, little one,” Bucky breathed, offering a hand to the small, adorable creature. “It’s okay, not gonna hurt you.”

Your heart seized at his words, and you smiled tearily to yourself.

The kitten didn’t move from its place on the floor, though it sniffed the air, its little nose wiggling with the effort and it was all you could do to not coo loudly. Bucky shuffled closer to the kitten and with baited breath, he reached forward and carefully picked her up from the floor. A loud mew suddenly left the kitten, startling all three of you, and it started purring in earnest.

“I think you have found the one, Bucky,” Cherie said quietly, a soft smile on her lips while she watched. “Come, there is a much quieter room where you can sit with this lil’ angel.”

Bucky looked up at you with wide, glassy eyes, a smile on his perfect lips. “Okay,” he said, slowly manoeuvring his way to his feet. “She’s very soft.” The small kitten mewed quietly when Bucky moved her so he could cradle her against his chest, the size of his hands dwarfing her even more.

“She is so cute, such a small lil’ thing,” you cooed, offering a finger for her to sniff. Bucky offered her to you to hold but you shook your head quickly, pushing his hands back against his chest so she could cuddle into his shirt. “I’ll get my fill of cuddles later, I don’t mind.”

Cherie led the two of you to a smaller, more intimate room with a floor to ceiling window on one side, and two couches placed opposite one another on a carpeted rug. A basket of toys sat next to a small cat tree, right by a small bowl of water. “Here you are,” she said, ushering you and Bucky inside. “I’ll be just down the hall, over there,” she pointed at another door labelled ‘employees only’, “if you need me, okay?”

“Thank you,” you beamed, and Bucky nodded in agreement, his attention wholly focused on the ball of fluff that was now wriggling in his hands. Cherie grinned and nodded before turning and departing your company.

“She is so soft,” Bucky marvelled quietly. “She’s like a cloud–a fluffy cloud.”

“She definitely is,” you agreed happily, taking a seat on the couch next to the toys. “Come sit, babe, she might want to play.”

Disregarding the couch entirely, Bucky sat cross-legged on the floor with his back against the opposing couch and took off his cap to place it behind him on a cushion. With the cap gone, his hair flowed freely and the kitten noticed, mewling softly as it attempted to crawl up to Bucky’s neck and hide in the curtain of his hair.

“Where you off to, little one?” Bucky chuckled. The kitten made a huffing noise as Bucky grabbed it gently and pulled it away so he could look into her face. “Look at’chu,” he cooed softly, bringing her closer to his face so they were almost nose to nose. “Isn’t she adorable?”

“The cutest,” you answered. A quiet gasp left you when the kitten booped her nose against Bucky’s, licking it once before beginning to purr again. Bucky looked at you with wide eyes, an unspoken ‘did you see that!’, you nodded, smiling happily. “I did, babe. I did.”

Hours passed in that room, the sun was high in the sky by the time you went and looked for Cherie. Bucky had spent the entire time cooing softly and playing with the kitten, and you knew she was the one for him when he started to cry when she grabbed his left forefinger between her paws and looked up at him. Somehow, her eyes were full of adoration – it was like she was human at that point.

Once you had found Cherie, you had brought her back to the room but gestured to keep quiet. She peered over your shoulder and you both watched while Bucky held the kitten up to his face so she could rub over his cheek, the volume of her purrs audible even in the doorway. “She’s the one,” Cherie whispered, and you nodded – you wholeheartedly agreed.

While you filled out the paperwork, Bucky held the kitten, cradling her against his neck where she curled happily amongst the loose hair from under his cap. Deb had smiled so wide when she spied the two of you walking back to reception with, “The cutest bundle of fluff I ever did see,” and had hurried to grab the paperwork that you were almost finished with.

“Now if there are any issues, just give us a call and we would be happy to help,” Cherie said. Her hand stretched out to scratch the kitten one last time and Bucky didn’t flinch at the initiation. “You take care now, y’hear?”

“I hear,” Bucky mumbled, smiling contentedly while stroking the kitten. “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome, love,” Cherie replied, and Deb nodded.

“It has been wonderful seeing your family grow.”

You offered the completed paperwork back to Deb, and rested a hand on Bucky’s arm. “You guys have been amazing, thank you for helping me make his birthday special.”

The drive home was full of Bucky making soft cooing noises at the kitten and petting her, the fact that you were driving his car didn’t even cross his mind – you knew that for a fact because he didn’t wince or complain playfully about your driving, not even once.

“Have you thought of a name, Buck?” You asked, pulling into the driveway and turning the car off. Bucky nodded once and continued to coo at the kitten. “Let’s get her inside, you take her and I’ll grab the supplies they gave us.”

As soon as the door swung open, Bucky made a beeline for the living room to sit on his side of the couch. You sighed and hauled everything in, content to see Bucky so happy with his gift – a very successful plan, if you said so yourself.

The day went by gracefully slowly, the hours stretching on while Bucky settled her into your home. It was close to dinner time when you asked again. “What’s this angel’s name, babe?”

Bucky looked up at you while you stood in the kitchen, his perch on the couch the perfect spot for you to see him carding through her fur while she dozed. “Her name is Alpine,” he said happily. “And she’s my second best girl.”

You laughed and made your way over, moving to sit down on the couch next to Alpine, but Bucky grabbed your wrist and pulled you over to sit in his lap. He wasted no time in cradling you close, resting his head in the crook of your neck while he breathed you in.

“Thank you, for today,” Bucky mumbled into the comfortable silence. “I’m one lucky fella to call you mine, baby girl.”

“You’re welcome, Bucky,” you said quietly, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “I’m the lucky one here, I promise.”

The two of you sat in silence while you watched the slow rise and fall of Alpine’s side while she breathed deeply, content and fast asleep from the exhausting day of playing and her many adventures.

“‘M gonna say it again, babe,” you started, yawning part way through. Bucky rubbed your side and nuzzled closer. “Happy birthday.” You felt Bucky smile, the tug of his lips tickling the side of your neck while his breath fanned over your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered, placing a single kiss on the column of your throat. “I love you so much.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨�� ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #AllCapsBingo2023 #bbbdaybash2023 #rookthorne's works #LHFPH

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lessersole · 1 year

Text

Happy Birthday, Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Thunderbolt!Reader (no Y/N or pet names), (briefly) Walker, Yelena, Val, Sam

Summary: Reader and Bucky celebrate his birthday with a movie night

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: Originally had this as a mid-part of a longer series that may never see the light of day, so re-drafted it as a standalone to celebrate Bucky's 106th birthday! Only background you need is that Reader is a member of the Thunderbolts and was friends with Steve during the Blip.

Warnings: A little fluff, a little lust

---

Back in your tiny apartment, you wake up slowly and stretch. After finding the energy to make yourself a coffee, you slip back into bed to stay warm and scroll through your phone. Swiping past your calendar, you frown at a small note on this Friday’s date that you don’t remember adding. It’s only when you open it that you realise it was something you’d put in during the Blip, set up to recur annually.

Check on Steve - Bucky’s bday

Obviously, you don’t have to worry about Steve’s happiness any more, but you wonder if Bucky has any plans. You have no idea if he has any friends in the city, and he doesn’t seem like the type to want much of a celebration. But it would be a good excuse for him to cut loose and relax a bit, which, in your opinion, he sorely needs. Finally getting out of bed, you rummage around in your closet for some clean workout clothes. A trip to the gym at the Thunderbolts building would be a good way as any other to start the day.

—

When you get to the gym, Walker’s the only other person there, so you put in your headphones and studiously ignore him until he leaves. You complete your workout without anyone else appearing, then grab a quick shower and head to the shared kitchen on the residential floor. There are rooms for the whole team, but none of you live in the Tower full-time, so it’s not unusual for it to be pretty quiet.

As you’re making the most of the free supplies for your lunch, Yelena bounds into the kitchen, with an exaggerated grimace, “Kill me now,” she exclaims, wrapping her arms around you in greeting while you slice tomatoes, “It would be a kindness to put me out of my misery.”

“Meeting went well?” you ask as she releases you.

“It was sooo booooring,” Yelena rolls her eyes, “It’s not fair that I have to listen to these stupid briefings just because I’m so good at fighting. But this looks nice,” she grabs half of your freshly made sandwich and sniffs it before biting off a corner.

“Hey, I just made that!”

“And it was very kind of you,” she replies sincerely, getting out plates for you both and taking hers to the table with a bottle of hot sauce.

Bucky enters the kitchen next, doing a slightly better job of hiding his boredom. Val follows just behind, and narrows her eyes at you.

“You know, I’m pretty sure your contract explains that sustenance is only provided for freelance team members when they’re on mission.”

After chewing thoughtfully on your food, you explain that surely keeping in shape for missions was part of your job, and nutrition was an important part of that. “Plus, I’m basically just catering at this point,” you finish, gesturing to where Yelena was devouring half of your lunch.

“Fine,” Val concedes, as though she couldn’t think of anything she cared less about anyway, “Yelena, now that you’ve eaten, you can come back and finish being briefed for your next mission.”

It was probably a good thing that Yelena’s response - which you were pretty sure was just a string of Russian profanities - was basically unintelligible through her mouthful of food, but she got up anyway and reluctantly followed Val out of the room, leaving you alone with Bucky.

“You want some too?” You ask, pointing at the sandwich ingredients.

“Sure,” he replies, joining you at the counter to make his own.

You watch him silently as you finish eating, then ask casually, “So, it’s your birthday this weekend, right? Doing anything for it?”

He glances at you in surprise, presumably not expecting you to have noticed, or known, the date.

“Yeah,” he responds, “Sam’s coming in for a visit on Saturday, he has…plans.” He sounded apprehensive at the prospect of Sam’s surprise evening, which made you smile.

“But isn’t your birthday the Friday?”

“Yeah, but he’s busy in DC then.”

“So what are you doing on the actual day?”

Bucky frowns slightly, “Nothing. The day after’s fine.”

“Well sure,” you lean a hip on the counter to tilt towards him, “But you have to do something on the actual day. Doesn’t have to be a big thing, or even with anyone else. Just, I don’t know, eat your favourite meal, watch your favourite movie…”

You trail off expectantly, but Bucky just shrugs.

“Okay, so what do you do when you want to treat yourself? Something you enjoy but don’t get to do that often.”

Bucky stares at you blankly. You boggle incredulously back at him.

“Oh come on! Even Steve would indulge in the occasional Twinkies binge. There must be something?”

Bucky’s brow was furrowed in thought, “I guess I like training. Makes me feel useful.”

“Bucky, no!” you groan, “For one thing, you do that every day, for another, ‘exercising’ and ‘being useful’ are not treats. You need something that’s selfish, just for you.”

Bucky just shrugs in response, “I don’t know what to tell you.”

You sigh, “Well, this needs to be dealt with,” you cross your arms and chew on your lip thoughtfully, remembering the stories Steve shared with you about their lives in the ‘40s.

“We could go to Coney Island? Or out dancing? From what I heard you were always trying to drag Steve to stuff like that.”

“We?”

“Yeah, can just be you and me or we could invite some of the others. Not Walker though.” You add darkly. “Or I guess maybe you’re doing stuff like that with Sam. We could do something quieter - a night in, take-out and movies?”

Bucky’s looking at you strangely.

“Or if you just want to be alone, you can still do that. I can recommend you some stuff you might like,” you grin at him, “I’ll even generously share my streaming password with you.”

Bucky still looks confused, blinking a few times before he manages to reply.

“A movie night sounds…okay. Not with the others. But you don’t have to come over, you probably have a better way to spend your Friday night.” He flashes you a quick smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you shake your head.

“I’d like to spend the night with you,” you reply simply, and truthfully, “So, any favourite foods?”

You chat for a little longer, coming up with ideas for the evening and noting down his home address. You leave looking forward to the evening - it’ll be nice to spend some time with Bucky outside of missions and training.

—

Soon enough, Friday rolls around. After working a shift at your day job, you sweet-talk a co-worker into letting you skip out early, and make your way to Brooklyn. Bucky lives in the same neighbourhood Steve used to, so you know it fairly well, and on your way you pick up beers, birthday cake and a pizza, rushing to get to his apartment before it gets cold. Someone leaving the building lets you in, and you head up the stairs to Bucky’s front door.

Trying to keep both the pizza and cake boxes flat, you awkwardly wedge the cake against your hip, balance the pizza between your other hand and shoulder, grip the pack of beer under your elbow, and gently kick the door in lieu of knocking. It’s opened quickly by Bucky, dressed casually in dark jeans and a black t-shirt, his bright eyes amused at the number of things you’re carrying.

“Let me get that,” he offers immediately. You let him take the pizza and beer, and follow him into the apartment. It’s clean, but a little too tidy, looking more like an empty hotel room than a lived-in home.

“You didn’t need to bring all this,” he says, looking curiously at the bakery box, “I have drinks already.”

“Better to have too much than too little,” you answer cheerily, setting the cake down on his kitchen counter, “Now, this is for later,” you place your hand on the closed box, “But the pizza is for now. Unfortunately, you live in Brooklyn, so the actual best pizza in the city would be cold by the time I got it over here, but I’ve heard some people say Grimaldi’s is the best. Obviously, they’re wrong, but you’re a weird Brooklyn guy too, so let’s see what you think.”

Bucky chuckles, “Not weird in a way that means I can’t properly judge a pizza.”

You give him a look that says you’re highly sceptical of that, before pulling a birthday card out of your bag and presenting it to him with a smile.

“Happy Birthday, Bucky.”

He takes the card from you with a soft thanks, opens it and laughs, “What…?”

You grin back at him, “For some reason I couldn’t find a card for a 106 year old, so I modified this one. It suits you, don’t you think?”

The card is for a 10th birthday, and you’ve drawn a big 6 on it, so it now reads “106 years old today!” above a cartoon dinosaur wearing a top hat.

“A dinosaur?” Bucky questions, failing to suppress his smile.

“Because you like science…and dinosaurs are really old, like you.” You beam at him as though this should be obvious, “but, as you can see, this one’s fancy too. He’s a gentleman dinosaur.”

“You are so strange,” Bucky mutters, shaking his head.

You shrug, “Well, that makes two of us. You got a bottle opener?”

You grab a beer for each of you, noticing Bucky’s shy smile as he reads the message you’ve written inside the card.

Happy Birthday to my favourite centenarian! There’s no one I’d rather be spending time spying on and punching people with. I’m glad we’re on the same team.

You chat over movie choices while you eat the pizza, which you reluctantly admit is pretty good. You’re aware of Bucky’s love for The Lord of the Rings, and Steve had mentioned he was interested in science and futurism, so you suggest some fantasy and sci-fi choices. In the end Bucky decides on Alien - double billed with Aliens, at your insistence - with Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon for the end of the night.

“If there’s time,” he qualifies, “You don’t have to stay for all three if you don’t want to. It’ll be pretty late by then.”

You smile, knowing you won’t want to leave no matter how late it is.

“I think you underestimate me, Buck. I’m a night owl, there’s no such thing as too late for me.”

Once you’re done eating, you settle comfortably onto his couch to start watching. After the first film ends, you take advantage of Bucky’s trip to the bathroom to take the cake out of its box and stick in a few candles. You’ve just got the last one lit and turned off the lights when he comes back.

“Happy Birthday Bucky,” you say with a smile, presenting him with the cake.

His eyes, shimmering in the candlelight, swim with gratitude, and you feel a rush of protective affection for him at how overwhelmed he is by the smallest things.

“Make a wish,” you add softly, holding the cake out towards him.

Bucky holds your gaze for a long moment, moving in close to you and covering your hands with his, as though to help hold the cake steady. Maintaining eye contact until the last possible moment, he leans forward and blows. You’re surprised at the sudden, hot pulse of lust that rips through you as he does, your lips parting involuntarily as the feeling pools between your legs.

You’d been attracted to him since you met, but something about his tender, deliberate movements was making your knees weak. As Bucky straightens up you see him note the bob of your throat as you swallow, and a cocky smile pulls at the corner of his lips. You take a deep breath and drag your eyes from his smooth, enticing mouth.

“Ready for something sweet?” you ask.

“Definitely.”

A couple slices of cake and a few hours later, you’ve fallen asleep on Bucky’s couch, tucked up comfortably under his arm, a blanket spread across you both. The third movie ended more than half an hour ago, but Bucky hasn’t wanted to wake you, instead enjoying the sensation of your warm body pressed against him, turning his face slightly to breathe in the scent from your hair where your head leans against his shoulder. Just the fact that you’re comfortable enough to fall asleep on him like this makes his heart swell.

But the clock creeps further into the wee hours, so making a decision, Bucky carefully wraps you in the blanket and lifts you up, taking you to his bedroom. You stir slightly, and as he sets you down on the cold bed, you open your eyes.

“Bucky,” you mumble, your voice full of sleep.

He hushes you gently, “It’s okay, stay asleep,” he whispers, before moving away.

You hum softly, and grab the front of his shirt, stopping him leaving.

“This is your bed,” you say sleepily.

“It is,” he agrees with a smile, “go back to sleep.”

“No,” you murmur, struggling to keep your eyes open, but not releasing your hold on him, “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”

Bucky smiles and leans back down, brushing the hair out of your eyes, “It’s really not a problem,” he assures you.

“Nope,” you say, less groggy and more insistent, “I can sleep on the couch if you want, but the only way I’m sleeping in your bed is if you’re in here with me."

Bucky hesitates. A part of him would love nothing more than to join you, to hold you close all night and wake up with you in his arms. But he doesn’t trust himself. And he doesn’t believe he deserves something so perfect and normal.

“It’s really okay,” he begins, but, more awake now, you cut him off.

“I promise to keep my hands to myself if that’s what you’re worried about,” you say with a sly, sleepy smile.

Bucky huffs out a quiet laugh and pauses, unsure how much to tell you.

“I get nightmares,” he admits quietly, “it - I might hurt you.”

Your eyes are fully open now, and you stare deep into his worried ones.

“Flashbacks?” you ask softly.

“Yes,” he seems surprised you know.

You nod slowly, “Been there. Having someone with you can help.”

Bucky frowns, frozen in indecision.

You roll your eyes and grab his flesh arm, tugging him down onto the bed beside you.

“Stop being an idiot and just sleep with me,” you tell him, moving closer to tuck the blanket over you both and gently rest your head on his chest, “Is this okay?” you check, registering his surprise, and when he nods you nestle into him with a contented sigh. After a moment you feel him relax beneath you. His right arm presses along your back, holding you to him, while he brings his vibranium arm up and across his body to wrap around your hip.

“Good night,” you mutter, smiling into his chest but not opening your eyes, “and happy birthday, again.”

He presses his lips to the top of your head and whispers back to you, “Good night. And thank you, again.”

—

Bucky wakes up early the next day, as usual. What’s not usual is your warm, sleeping form next to him - or the complete absence of nightmares. He feels more rested than he has in months, if not longer, even though it can’t be more than a few hours since he fell asleep.

Looking down at your face in the easy morning light, he watches you carefully, your face soft and unguarded as you sleep.

He realises that he hasn’t really seen you completely relaxed until now. You always have a sardonic smile and quick quip, are rolling your eyes in exasperation at your teammates, or are just closed off and blankly unreadable. Remembering what you said last night about having experience with flashback nightmares, he wonders if your attitude is a defence to keep people at a distance. And if so, is it intentional, or is it instinct? What have you been through to make you - in this way - similar to him?

The knowledge that you had let your defences down with him last night feels like an honour. He wonders if spending the night with him helped you as well, and hopes it did - he’s proud that he may have kept you safe and comfortable. Wrapping his arms around you tighter and letting himself drift back to sleep, he hopes that he gets the chance to learn all these things about you - and more.

A few hours later, you stir in his arms, rousing him from his doze. He pulls back slightly, and looks into your sleepily opening eyes.

“Morning,” you greet him groggily.

“Morning,” he smiles back, glad that you’re happy to stay close as you gradually return to consciousness.

Mirroring his smile, you glance down at the both of you and chuckle, “You know it was a good birthday when you wake up in yesterday’s clothes.”

“Yeah, I should probably shower,” Bucky realises, “And you can shower here too, if you want. I can lend you something to wear.”

You sleepily raise an eyebrow, “Is that a pointed comment?”

Bucky’s eyes widen, “No, no, I just-”

“I’m joking,” you swat him lightly on his chest and sit up, “It’s probably more considerate to everyone else on the subway to shower here. But - coffee?”

Bucky smiles. You might have fallen asleep before him last night, but you’re clearly not a morning person.

“How about I make coffee while you take a shower. And breakfast, I think I have some eggs.”

“That sounds like a great plan. But, uh,” you hesitate, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I understand men from the ‘40s weren’t really taught to cook, and the one time I ate something Steve made…” you tail off, a look of disgust on your face at the memory.

Bucky laughs, “You can’t blame the ‘40s for that, Steve’s just a terrible cook. But trust me. How much could I mess up an egg?”

You narrow your eyes at him, your voice dripping with suspicion, “What Steve made me was supposed to be an omelette.”

Bucky snorts, “And let me guess, it looked and tasted like something he’d found on the sidewalk?”

“It looked and tasted like a hate crime! Against me personally, or all chickenkind, I’m not sure.”

“Okay,” Bucky assures you through his laughter, “I promise not to hurt you like that. My eggs will taste, at worst, like a recreational misdemeanour,” his smile fades suddenly, “Wait, Steve made you breakfast?”

Now it’s your turn to smile. Is Bucky jealous?

“No,” you respond with a smirk, “It was lunch. That would have been a terrible way to start the day.”

—

When you emerge from the shower, the smell of Bucky’s cooking reassures you that this will be a better experience than Steve’s ‘omelette’. You dress in the sweats Bucky’s laid out for you - failing to resist smelling his Henley as you pull it over your head - then move to the kitchen. Both of you drink coffee and eat the perfectly edible eggs, chatting companionably about what you’d watched the night before. You promise Bucky another movie night soon, ostensibly to help with his “cultural education”. He refuses to let you do the dishes, so the two of you wash and dry them side by side before he goes for his shower.

You’re enjoying another cup of coffee before you have to say goodbye and make your way back to Manhattan, when there’s a knock at the front door. You can still hear the water going from Bucky’s shower, and it sounded like he wasn’t expecting anyone at the moment. Confused, you pad over and look through the peephole, seeing a face that’s immediately recognisable.

You pull the door open with a wide smile, “Captain Wilson,” you greet Sam. He’s clearly shocked to see you opening Bucky’s door, but you gesture for him to come in, “So great to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, you have?” Sam asks, struggling to conceal his delighted grin, “And please, call me Sam.”

You introduce yourself and shake hands.

“Bucky’s in the shower,” you explain, “But he’ll be out any minute.”

As if he heard you, Bucky bursts out of the bathroom, dripping wet and wearing only a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. You’d swear you could feel your pupils dilating with lust as you took him in - not to mention what the sight of him was doing to the rest of you.

Beads of water roll over his strong shoulders, one webbed with scars, the other lightly dusted with freckles, before sliding down the swell of his chest. His dog tags rest just above the hard ridges of his abs, and your eyes drift down, following the trail of dark hair where it led from his stomach beneath the towel, centred between a defined v-line you ache to trace with your tongue.

Bucky’s flustered voice just about brought you out of your libidinous reverie, “Sam! Didn’t you say you’d be getting in in the afternoon?”

Sam’s clearly enjoying the situation, “Oh yeah, ‘thanks man for coming to see me on my birthday’,” he mocks, “I got an earlier flight, thought we could start the celebrations early. But it looks like you already did.”

You return the delighted grin he gives you while Bucky grumpily thanks Sam for coming to visit and moves to greet him.

“Woah, you gotta put some clothes on before you get any closer,” Sam warns him light-heartedly.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” you say, winking at Bucky as you drain the last of your coffee, “Nice to meet you Sam, I hope I’ll see you again some time.”

“I’m sure you will,” Sam still looks like the cat that got the cream.

Shrugging on your jacket and grabbing your bag, you approach Bucky confidently, “Have fun tonight, birthday boy,” you lightly place a hand on his bare waist and lean in to kiss him on the cheek, “but not too much fun.”

“Sure,” Bucky grumbles, but there’s a smile he can’t quite hide hovering on his lips, and he walks you to the door - always a gentleman even in just a towel.

You turn with a smile as you leave, “And give me a call if you make it across the river tonight.”

“I will,” Bucky nods, then reaches out to pull you close and adds, softly enough that Sam can’t hear, “And thank you for last night. And this morning. I had a great birthday.”

After a fraction of a second’s hesitation, he presses a soft kiss to your cheek, warming you head to toe.

You beam back at him, “I’m glad. I had fun too,” you step back reluctantly and call a goodbye to both him and Sam.

As you start down the corridor, you hear Sam’s voice even through the door.

“Dude, you had a girl here? Overnight!? Are you kidding me?”

You walk away with a smile, still hearing laughter and a final exclamation before you head out, something that sounds like, “As long as it’s not my sister.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bbbdaybash2023

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