#best friend!bucky

[veltana]

No one as sweet as you - Mafia!Stucky/Reader

✦ Pairing: Stucky/Reader ✦ Word count: ~9,4k ✦ Rating: Explicit ✦ Warnings: Mafia AU, best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, protective!stucky, TW: reader is verbally and physically abused by john walker, idiots in love, sharing a bed, poly relationship, piv sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus, praise kink, pet names (Sweets), unprotected sex, creampie. ✦ Summary: When you’re hurt by your boyfriend you go to the two people you can depend on for anything, Steve and Bucky, your best friends. ✦ Note: This is a fic that was previously posted on AO3, at the beginning of the year. But since I'm stuck in writer's block right now I thought I would post this in case you haven't read it. It's one of my favorites. There are some short prequel fics to this also posted on AO3, about when they were living together in college. I'll post those too in the following weeks.

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

The bouncer gives you one glance before he opens the door for you and the line of people you pass shout angrily but you don’t even spare them a glance, your thoughts elsewhere. The music in the club usually invigorates you but tonight it passes through without leaving a trace.

Making your way to Monica at the bar, the people you pass shoot you weird glances and you know you must look a mess. When she sees you she comes right over, the music is too loud to talk so you share a squeeze of the forearm in place of a hug before she pours you your favorite wine, with a pitying smile at your smeared mascara. You throw a kiss at her before making your way to the back and once again the big man at the door opens it for you after a quick look.

The music is muted as you make your way to the stairs at the back that take you up to their private room. When your heels land at the top and you meet Bucky's eyes he lifts the girl currently on his lap off and declares "Everyone out."

Steve shoots him an irritated look before his eyes follow Bucky's and sees you. You stand perfectly still while the women and men who were enjoying a private party with two of the biggest mobsters in New York mill past you down the stairs, some even shoot you dirty looks.

When the last person has passed, you take a step towards them, but before you're two steps in, Bucky has taken the glass from your hand and Steve has lifted you into his arms. You cling to him, hands grasping his shirts, and finally, you know you’re safe.

Steve sits down with you in his lap, cradling your head to lean it against him, the other arm holding you tight at your waist. Bucky's palms are gentle when he rubs your back soothingly. None of them say anything at first but the tears running down your face speak for themselves. You made it all the way without breaking down but with them, you can be vulnerable. For the last seven years, they’ve been the rock, the shelter, and your haven.

"Talk to us, Sweets," Bucky's voice is only that soft with you, maybe sometimes with Steve too, “What’s going on?” You try to take a deep breath, but it just stutters. After a few more tries it’s better but you’re not sure where to begin. They give you time, and don't press you on information, like they otherwise do in their line of work.

Finally, you release Steve's shirt and instead, you find the hand he has wrapped around your waist, twisting the rings on his fingers as you try to speak. You don't want to look at them, the shame and the anxiety is running high in your body but you want to tell them, you just have to find the right words.

"You know the guy I've been seeing," you start and feel Steve's arms tighten around you. Before you can say more Bucky mutters "I'm gonna kill him." Steve is calmer and asks, "What about John, Sweets?" He speaks into your hair, his voice is gentle but it has a hard edge. "He's been so sweet since we started going out, but he's been having a rough time at work lately," you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to remember, your heart beating like crazy. The memories bring forth the panic and the fear again and your breath gets shallow.

"It's alright Sweets, you're here with us, nothing can hurt you," Bucky's low voice is comforting, together with their touch, and you know he’s telling you the truth. It’s the reason you came here instead of going home.

You take a few more breaths and continue "So I thought I'd do something nice for him. We had a spa day and while he soaked in the tub I made dinner and dressed up for him." Frowning hard, your fingers spin the rings on Steve's hand faster and faster the more your anxiety builds, knowing what’s coming.

"And everything was great until I poured the wine and spilled some on the tablecloth." Your mouth opens and closes a few times and the tears start to fall again but Bucky is there with his thumbs, cradling your face and brushing them away, while Steve rocks you gently in his embrace.

"He was furious," you cry. "Said I ruined everything! He threw the wine in my face, then the bottle across the room. He tried to grab me but I ran out of there." There is a long silence when you finish, it’s just your sobs and the music from the other side of the wall. Then Steve says "I'm gonna fucking kill him," his voice laced with rage, and he hugs you even closer.

"I took a cab here, I didn’t know where else to go, I didn’t wanna go home." With the last words out you feel a small relief. You’ve told them. You’ve told someone. The scene still plays in your head, seeing John's eyes turn black with rage when the drops of rosé landed on the white linen, feeling the fear when he started screaming.

"Thank you for telling us, Sweets. You’re an incredible person," Steve says and moves you out of his lap and over to Bucky's. They treat you with the utmost care, moving slowly, giving you time to protest if you want, or detangle yourself if that's what you desire. But you let them manipulate your body how they like because sometimes they know what you need more than you do.

"You did nothing wrong," he goes on to say, holding onto your hands, letting his thumbs caress the skin. "John is an absolute fucking asshole and no one should be treated like that.” You meet his green-blue eyes that are only soft for you, and Bucky. Right now, Steve isn’t the feared mobster that people avert their eyes from when he enters a room, scared they’re going to end up in a ditch because they looked at him wrong. No, this Steve is your best friend.

"I don't want to be scared, and I don't want to go home in case he comes there," you confess. "You'll stay with us," Bucky decides, voice finite. "Let’s go home so you can take a shower and change clothes." You nod and are about to stand up but Bucky is quicker, changing his grip and holding you close as he gets up. He carries you to the car and doesn't let go of you until you're in their mansion, in the room you have there.

When he puts you down your feet are a little unsteady and they both look at you with concern, but you give them a weak smile “It’s okay.” "We'll be right outside, shout if you need anything," Steve tells you and when you nod they both step out and close the door softly behind them.

For a moment you stand still, trying to make sense of the last hours, wondering how everything went to shit. Then you finally get a good look at yourself in the tall mirror and see the black rivulets of mascara and eyeliner smudged down your cheeks, the foundation almost gone.

The dress is ruined by the wine and even if it was expensive and you can get it dry cleaned you don’t want it anymore. You pull it off and throw it into the trash can, quickly followed by the heels. The lingerie is one of your favorite sets but you're unsure if you will ever be able to enjoy it again without remembering how you chose it especially for John. After a moment it goes into the trash, and the earrings too, feeling like you need everything from the night to be gone.

The only thing you keep on your body is the necklace that was a gift from Bucky and Steve years ago and you haven’t taken it off since. It's custom-made with three delicate chains in gold, silver, and black twisted together. You loved it the moment you saw it, knowing that the chains were the three of you, twisted together through the rest of your lives. When you touch it with your fingers it makes you feel better, because you can feel them with you.

The shower feels more than just bodily cleansing and when you remove the last pieces of your smeared makeup, smoothing eye cream over your puffy eyes, the feeling of fear and panic is distant.

In the closet are a bunch of your clothes, probably more than you like to admit, but the best part is the drawer with their old t-shirts. You pull one out, not sure which of them it used to belong to, but it’s worn and soft against your skin. For a moment you press it against your nose, breathing in the detergent that reminds you of this place and all the wonderful memories that you have with them, before you find your pajama pants.

Out in your room you sit on the bed and look around at the muted colors. Bucky and Steve insisted that the room was yours, not just a guest room, and it makes you smile a little when you think about how much fun you had decorating it.

After taking a deep breath you open the door and find them just a few steps away. The look in Bucky's eyes is murderous and Steve's fists are clenched by his side, but when they turn to you they go back to being your best friends that you met in college all those years ago. "How are you feeling?" Bucky steps up to you and pulls you into a soft hug, tucking your head underneath his chin as you wrap your arms around his waist, breathing in the smell of him. Steve comes up behind you, placing his palms on your shoulders, rubbing the muscles carefully. "Better now," you answer. "But I never had dinner so I'm a bit hungry."

Bucky pulls away from you, cradling your face, tilting it up until you're looking right into his light blue eyes. "Let's go raid the kitchen," he smiles and holds your gaze for a few seconds more and there is so much love in those eyes it's almost scary. You know he would burn down the city if it made you happy, they both would, and that intensity is one of the many things that have kept you from finding out what it would be like to be theirs. You're not sure you'd be able to handle it.

When Bucky lets go of you, Steve's arm goes around your waist and he pulls you into him, Bucky takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, and you walk to the kitchen. You sit down at the kitchen island while they open the fridge.

"The chef made mac'n’cheese," Steve says and pulls out an oven pan, covered in tin foil with a post-it note on top with instructions for heating it. Bucky turns on the oven and says, "Want something to drink Sweets?"

"Soda?" you ask and Steve pulls a can out of the fridge before settling down beside you, handing it to you. You hand it right back "Please? I don't wanna fuck up my nails." That makes him chuckle as he opens it and the sound makes you warm on the inside so you lean your head against his shoulder.

"Thank you," you sigh. "For always being here for me. I'm sorry I ruined your party." "You didn't ruin shit," Bucky spits out, glaring at you from where he is standing by the oven. Steve and you chuckle at his harsh tone but then he leans forward, over the counter towards you, resting his large arms against the surface.

"I mean it, Sweets, don't you ever think you ruin anything by showing up, for any reason," his voice is stern but you know it comes from a place of love. "Thank you, Bucky, it means a lot," you smile.

When the oven is warm Bucky puts the tray in and pulls out plates. It only takes a few minutes and your tummy rumbles as the kitchen fills with the smell of cheese. Bucky and Steve make small talk about work things and you're grateful for them filling the silence while you finally get some food.

But it isn't the nice chicken that you cooked for John that you looked forward to eating and your eyes begin to burn. Even though you try to force the tears back they come anyway and run down your cheeks as you eat. Neither Bucky nor Steve notice until you reach for a paper towel and sniffle loudly. Not a second later you're wrapped up in Steve's embrace, crying into his shirt again while Bucky caresses your hair and nape. They mumble sweet things to you and tell you that you're safe and that nothing is ever going to hurt you again.

After a few minutes, the tears run dry. "I'm okay," you say and Steve loosens his hold, his eyes filled with concern for you. "You sure?" "Yeah, but I feel like I've been hit by a truck. Should probably try to get some sleep.” "We're sleeping in my room," Bucky decides and you nod, Steve too.

It's not unusual for the three of you to share a bed when one of you has had a rough time. The first time it happened was after finals and you all fell asleep in Steve's bed, totally exhausted, and slept better than you'd had in weeks.

Then it was after break-ups, yours, Steve's, Bucky's, somehow you all ended up in a bed together every time and it wasn't sexual at any point, just friends being there for each other and it continued through the years. The only time it was out of the question was when one of you was in a relationship, then it just felt weird, and from previous experience, it wasn't something that partners were all that accepting of.

You retrieve your pillows and cover from your room before settling in Bucky’s huge bed, your feet twisted up with Steve's, and Bucky is holding your hand. It's nice, it's familiar and you drift off knowing you're safe with them.

The room is dark when their soft voices wake you, but that might be because of the black-out curtains and not because it's still night. They’ve moved close enough to you that you can feel the warmth from their bodies on either side of you, and Bucky’s chest is right in front of your eyes when you open them slightly to peek. They don't notice you're awake and you don't feel like announcing it either, curious what they’re talking about.

"We let her decide." Even if Steve's tone is hushed it's still hard. "She is too sweet, you know she would never hurt a fly, she's going to say no," Bucky protests harshly in a whisper. This is interesting, you think.

"Even if you and I are fine with getting blood on our hands, maybe she doesn't want to live with that, maybe she wants to press charges." Steve has always been the more level-headed of the two, good with looking at things from all angles and keeping his cool. Bucky huffs and you want to giggle. His emotions always get him in trouble, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. When Bucky is angry he sees red and when he loves he does it with his whole soul and being. One time you asked Steve how he isn’t dead yet since his poker face seems to suck, but Steve explained that when they’re doing business he is usually calm and collected. When his emotions finally break through, people know they should probably run.

"Fine.” You can tell Bucky is not happy but he lowers his voice even more, and now it’s tinged with something else. “But I'm never letting her go again." His words together with his gentle tone make your heart skip. There was a time when you seriously thought about asking them to see if the three of you could work it out, and be more than just friends. But what you have with them is so precious that if it fails in the end, and you lose your best friends, you're not sure how you're going to go on.

"And you think I will?" Steve mutters. "We should have said something a long time ago." "Well, we can't go back in time. All I know is that I love her and I can't see her with anyone else ever again," Bucky's voice sounds like it's going to crack. He never cries but that is as close as it gets.

Steve reaches over you towards him, you can't see what he does but you know how Steve's comforting hands look on Bucky, you've seen it before. Sometimes they're even sweeter with each other than they are with you, when they think no one can see them, not even you. It's so clear that they love each other deeply, honestly it's surprising that they don't just date each other.

You hear Bucky hum in contentment and Steve gives a small soft laugh. It feels like a good time as any to pretend to wake up. You file away their words for another day, not ready to deal with them now in the wake of what’s happened. First, you need to heal the broken heart you're already nursing before thinking about giving it away again.

With a groan you turn from your side to your back, stretching and blinking your eyes open. They're lying on their sides, both resting their heads on their hands. "What time is it?" you mumble, rubbing your eyes. "Just past nine," Bucky informs you and brushes a few strands of hair out of your face. "And you two are still here?" "Just for you," Steve says softly and finds your hand, twisting your fingers together.

Both of them are early risers and you hate mornings, something they tease you for endlessly. "Honestly though, have you already, like, gone for a run, had breakfast, and then sealed some important deal?" "Nope." Bucky slides his arm in under your neck, placing the other hand on your hip, and pulls you closer to him. "We didn't want to leave in case you woke up." Steve shuffles closer, his chest pressing into your shoulder. "Didn't want you to think we left you all by yourself."

You hum and decide to ask "Would it be okay if I stay here a few days?" "Sweets, stay as long as you want. It's your home as much as ours,” Steve answers. "No,” you correct. “My name is definitely not on any papers for this house." "We can fix that if that's what you want. Just move here." Bucky is serious but you decide to laugh it off. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" "Like old times." he smiles.

"Except I have no desire to listen to the people you bring home scream and moan, got enough of that in college,” tumbles out of your mouth without really thinking of it. They exchange a look but before they can say anything you hastily continue. "Do you think I need to break up with John, or do you think he got the message when I left?"

An uneasy silence falls and Bucky breaks it. "I'm gonna be honest with you Sweets, I really wanna fucking kill him, and make it as painful and as horrifying for him as possible. Death will feel like a blessing in the end." Steve speaks next. "But it's your decision, and if you wanna press charges against him, we'll make our lawyers available."

It’s a lot to take in at that moment. "I don't know,” you answer truthfully. “It still hurts, I'm still scared but I'm not sure what will make it better." "When you've decided you let us know and we'll do whatever you want." Steve bends down to kiss the top of your head.

"If I see him on the street or something though I'm gonna punch him," Bucky says casually before letting go of you and getting out of bed. When his warmth leaves you, you whine and that makes him chuckle. He kneels on the bed and kisses your forehead. "Steve will keep you company while I make breakfast." "You mean go get what the chef has already prepared?" you joke. Bucky shoots you a look before leaving the bedroom.

"We should be glad he isn't actually cooking. Remember when he tried to make pancakes for his girlfriend and almost burned down the apartment," Steve notes. "That's because he got distracted. I mean, I'm glad I came out of my room when I did but the image of Bucky and her on the kitchen table still haunts me," you chuckle.

"You weren't exactly innocent back in those days either," Steve points out with a laugh. "But I never did it on the communal surfaces," you defend with a huff. "No, all we got was listening to you trying to stifle every sound and failing miserably." "Well, at least I didn't break a wall while fucking someone." "It was a shitty wall, never have that problem here." "See that's why I don't wanna move here." "We can soundproof your room?" "Or I can just live in my apartment?"

Bucky comes back with a breakfast tray and places it on the bedside table before pulling out your phone from his pants. "It's been buzzing nonstop since I got down," he explains and hands it to you right as the screen lights up with an incoming call.

"It's John," you tell them, and your chest floods with anxiety as you stare at the screen and sit up against the headboard. "Answer it," Steve sits up beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. Bucky is pressed against you much the same on your other side. "On speaker," he instructs and takes out his own phone to record the call.

Your hands shake as you swipe to answer. "H-hello." Your voice is wavering. "Baby! I'm sorry for yesterday, I'm sorry I got mad. I've been calling since you left, I've been so worried. I checked your place but you weren't home. Where are you?" John says in a worried voice. "I'm at a friend's house," you reply.

The feelings in your chest are conflicted, on one hand you never want to see him again but hearing his voice makes you remember that when he is good he is great, amazing even, and you would be lying if you said you didn't miss him. For the last few months, you gave it your all and you were even prepared to tell him you love him.

"I'll come and pick you up and let me apologize properly," he sounds pained like he is actually sorry for what he did. Fuck, it's so tempting to go back but you know better. You know that this is just the tip of the iceberg, and getting wine thrown in your face is probably not the worst that can happen.

"No, John." You try to sound confident but you're not sure it comes across. "I don't think it's going to work out between us." The moment you say the words the tears well up and Steve starts rubbing your shoulder." You're doing great," he whispers right by your ear so John doesn't hear.

"Are you-" John sounds shocked. "Are you breaking up with me… over the phone?" "Yeah, sorry." You cringe, you shouldn't be sorry. "You scared me yesterday and I feel like I don't know you anymore."

"Babe you don't need to be scared of me, I would never hurt you I swear," he sounds like he is about to cry and a part of you wants to comfort him. "You threw wine in my face and said some really mean things," you point out.

"I didn't mean any of that, I promise. You know I've had a lot on my plate lately and I didn't mean to take it out on you." There is some part of you that desperately wants to believe him. "That's not an excuse," you go on. "I'm not an object for you to take out your frustration on. It's not going to work John."

There is a long silence before he speaks again and now his voice is laced with rage instead. "Then you can come get your fucking things right now." "John, please don't-" you start but he cuts you off.

"You fucking bitch, you lead me on for months and then you break up with me over the phone, because what? You think I’m gonna hit you or something?" "Yeah, maybe," you answer truthfully. "You're such a dumb bitch, I would never lay a hand on a woman I care about."

Both Steve and Bucky stir beside you. When you shoot them a glance they are both staring at the screen with murder in their eyes. "Calling me names won't change my mind, John," it hurts when he says them, like an actual stab in the heart and it brings out more tears.

Bucky leans over and taps the mute button. "There is no way you're going over there, we'll send Sam and Vis." You nod and unmute while John is raging on about how dumb and useless you are and how he wishes he'd never wasted his time on you. "I'm going to send some friends to pick up my things."

"Oh, so you won't even face me yourself?” his voice is unrecognizable now. “You know what? I'm glad for what I did, I'm not sorry anymore, you're obviously a fucking coward and not worth a second of my time." Every ounce of fight is gone from you, you're just tired and want it to be over. You don’t want to listen to the hurtful words anymore so you simply say "Goodbye John," and don't even wait for a response before hanging up. You drop the phone into the sheets and bury your face in your hands, your body jerking with sobs.

Steve and Bucky’s arms go around you but you hardly notice, everything is just excruciating pain, your heart smashed into a million pieces. Twenty-four hours ago you were happy with a man you thought you knew, and loved, but now everything is broken and you're not sure what you’re going to do next.

It takes a long time for you to stop crying and when it finally ends you're exhausted, again. The coffee Bucky brought has gone cold but Steve holds a glass of juice to your lips and makes you take a few sips before coaxing some yogurt into your mouth. "Steve is going to stay with you while I take care of a few things. If you need me, you tell him and I'll be right back," Bucky promises when he leaves the bed again, taking the tray with him out of the bedroom.

"Is he going to kill him?" you ask softly as you sink down under the covers. Steve puts his arm around your waist and pulls you into his chest until your face is squished against it. "No," his voice is soft. "Not without me." "Steve…" "Can you blame us, Sweets? John was lucky it was over the phone or else we would have beaten him into a pulp for saying those things."

"He never acted like that before," you whisper. "I'm just happy you got out before he put his hands on you," Steve whispers back. "If you had shown up with bruises yesterday I might have lost it." "I love you," you tell him and he kisses the top of your head. "I love you too, Sweets, and I know Bucky feels just the same." You hum and let the exhaustion take over.

They have switched when you wake the next time, you're in Bucky's arms and he is carding his fingers through your hair speaking quietly to you. "Wake up Sweets, it's time for dinner."

Even if you’ve slept right through lunch you shake your head and swing your leg over his hip, clinging to him. "Don't wanna get up," you whine. "If you eat dinner, we can watch a movie on the couch afterward." He knows just how to tempt you and you need something to try and take your mind off everything.

"Candy?" you pull back. Even if the light in the room is dim you can still see the blue in his eyes, and the crinkles at the corners when he smiles. "You know we keep stock of everything you like, there is always something sweet for our Sweets."

You hug him hard. "I love you Bucky, you know that right?" "I love you too, Sweets." He kisses the top of your head, much like Steve did earlier. "And I know Steve feels just the same." That makes you giggle "Steve said the same thing." "Well he is a smart man," he shrugs.

Bucky all but pulls you out of bed but he doesn't force you to change out of your pajamas. He leads you to the kitchen where Steve is plating the food and your stomach grumbles when you smell it. They have set the table with candles and it looks lovely but it also reminds you of your last candle-lit dinner. Bucky sees the look on your face turns you away from it and tilts your chin up with his fingertips, "It’s…” he begins, hesitating, trying to find the right words. “We want to replace every bad memory, but if it’s too much too soon we’ll throw it all out.”

The scary thing is that he is serious. If you said the word they would throw everything out, but you don't want that, you want a nice dinner with them and try to get past what happened. Maybe it will help, maybe it won’t but you won’t know until you’ve tried. And if there is one thing you know for sure, it is that you are safe with them.

“It’s fine, I’ll try,” you promise with a smile before turning around to sit down at the table. Steve serves the food and Bucky pours you a glass of wine. After a few bites, Bucky brings up some stupid shit the three of you did a long time ago and through dinner, you reminisce about old times.

Since meeting John you haven't seen them as much because you learned early on that partners were weirded out or even jealous of what you had with them. Right now you can’t fathom why you would ever do that, because these two people are the best thing in your life.

You fold your napkin into your lap and look at them. "I'm sorry for, like, ghosting you the last few months," you swallow hard. "I've been a shitty friend but you always take care of me when I need you, and I’m so thankful for that. I promise I’ll do better."

"It's okay sweets," Steve smiles and reaches over the table to grasp your hand. Bucky takes the other and his thumb caresses your knuckles. "Don't apologize, there is no need." The lump in your throat is from love and not from sadness this time and you don't try to speak, just nod, squeezing their hands back.

Afterward, you cuddle up on the couch to watch a movie but ten minutes in you're already nodding off. When Steve and Bucky notice you're asleep they turn the TV off and Steve carries you up to Bucky's bedroom. "She has work tomorrow," Bucky whispers and pulls the cover up over your body. "Fuck, should we wake her?" Steve asks back. "No, let her sleep, she starts at nine so if we let her sleep til seven it should be fine."

Fortunately, the alarm on your phone goes off as usual but when you turn to snooze it, you instead roll into a warm chest. Steve grumbles and reaches for your phone, handing it to you before seizing you around the waist, and burying his face in your neck.

“Hey, I have to get up,” you mutter. It feels like your eyes are filled with sand and your head is pounding but you have to go to work nonetheless. “You don’t have to work,” he speaks into your skin and it makes a tingling feeling travel through you.

“Don’t be silly, let go of me,” you chuckle and detangle yourself. The other side of the bed is empty, Bucky already up. You drag yourself over to your room to shower before getting ready and eating breakfast. Steve insists on driving you to work and Bucky comes and sees you off with a long hug and a kiss on your hair. “I’ve put Clint and Peter to watch your apartment and Sam and Vis are going to be outside your work all day, Sweets.” “Thank you, Bucky.”

When Steve drops you off he points out the car. "If you see John or you for any other reason feel unsafe you can go to them right away, or call us,” he tucks a strand of hair in behind your ear. “Don’t hesitate. You mean everything to us and we want to keep you safe, Sweets,” You nod. “Thank you, Steve,” you whisper, leaning over the console to kiss his cheek before heading to work.

What you told yourself would only be a few days, turns into a few weeks and now it’s almost two months. Despite your initial refusal, you’re enjoying living with them again. A few times after the break-up, John tried to contact you and every time the phone started buzzing and your anxiety spiked you found one of them and they helped you through it.

You haven’t slept in your room once and neither has Steve, it's always the three of you sleeping in Bucky's bed. It could be because Bucky has an expensive bed that you sleep so soundly, but in the back of your head, you know it’s because their presence calms you.

If Bucky or Steve can't drive you to work, someone else does, your own car is still parked on the street by your apartment and you don’t have any desire to go get it. But you do miss some of your clothes, and toiletries, so maybe you should take it as a sign that you need to go back.

After getting home from work that day you walk up to their office, a little apprehensive. Both of them are leaning over the desk when you poke your head in, their cuffs rolled up, exposing their underarms. It’s enough to make your stomach flip, they look too good. Steve sees you first and a smile splits his face. “Hey Sweets, have a good day at work?”

Bucky turns and opens his arms towards you when you step into the room. His hug is warm and comforting and you answer Steve’s question with a yes, before taking a step back from them. "I know I said I was only going to stay a few days but it's been way more than that now, so I think I'll go back to my place after work tomorrow." You try to sound as neutral as possible, neither sad nor happy, just stating a fact.

"No," Bucky breathes, fists tightening at his sides. "I agree with Bucky, don't leave," Steve's voice is calm and his face doesn’t give much away but his eyes are betraying him, they’re too glossy, too wide, and too filled with fear to miss.

The other reason you need to go back home is the way they are treating you and touching you. It’s making your feelings run wild and you can't have that, you can’t risk losing them too. And if that wasn't enough they've invaded your dreams with their touches and words, making you wake up aching for them in a way that is totally inappropriate.

"I can't stay, you know that," you sigh. "No, I don't." Bucky is frustrated, staring at you. "I really fucking don't know why you can't stay. We love having you here and you seem to love being here. Just stay."

His mood is making you defensive, you don't want to explain that you're obviously catching feelings soon after getting out of something traumatic. You need to think, and every time you wake up drenched, tucked in between them you are seconds away from ruining everything by confessing or honestly just taking one of their hands and pushing it in between your legs, hoping they will help you get off.

"I need my own space, Bucky," you cross your arms and glare at him. "You have your own room," he states and takes a step closer. "That I don't use anyway," you reply and take a step back. "Because you don't want to!" His raised voice silences you not because you're scared but because he's right. Bucky isn’t stupid and he's not the type to sugarcoat things when he's upset.

Your heart is hammering. "No I don't want to," you confess with a breath. "But I need to." Then you turn to go but only get a step from the desk before Steve grabs your wrist. He spins you into his chest, Bucky coming up behind you, boxing you in between them. Bucky's head falls on your shoulder. "I can't let you go again, Sweets, I can't do it."

Your mind flashes back to the morning when you pretended to sleep and heard them talking. The breath in your chest hitches as you look up into Steve's blue-green eyes. “I’m with him, Sweets,” he says in a low voice and cups your cheek with his large hand. “You belong here, with us.”

Your mouth opens and you try to protest but it dies on your tongue and Steve takes the opportunity to continue. "We love you, more than anything, we want you to be ours, more than just our best friend. Live with us, be with us in every sense of the word. All three of us, together," his voice wavers at the end.

The words sink in slowly. Be with them. Be theirs. Stay. Your body is aching to say yes and your heart is about to beat its way out of your chest. “But…” “All I know is that I feel incomplete without you, like a part of my soul is somewhere else, and the only time I'm at peace is when I'm with you two. I can't keep living like a part of me is missing. So I'm asking you, please stay, please help us figure this out and be with us." Bucky’s arms wrap around your waist. "Every time I see you with someone else my heart gets ripped out of my chest and I've tried to be with other people, we both have, but in the end, they’re not you."

Their confessions break down your defenses as their words ring true. In all your relationships over the years, there's always been something missing but you've never been able to figure out what. There's been passion and there's been love but it's always lacking something and now you think you get it. It has lacked them and the deep connection you share through years and years of friendship. Feeling stupid about wanting to leave and thinking you weren’t ready to be with them makes tears well in your eyes. Whatever it is you three can figure it out, it may not be traditional but it beats being unhappy.

"Don't cry, Sweets." Steve runs his thumb over your cheek. You lean your head into his chest, nodding against it. "I'll stay," you sniffle. The arms around your waist tighten and Bucky speaks into your shoulder. "Really Sweets?" he sounds like he’s worried that maybe you're joking.

"Really Bucky," you promise, wrapping your arms around Steve and hugging him close. For a moment it’s just the three of you enveloped in your shared love but then Bucky rights himself and you look up at him over your shoulder, matching his silly smile.

He leans in like he is about to kiss you but he stops himself, his eyes searching yours for something, and it's scary. If you take the plunge everything will change, or maybe it won't, but it feels like an earthquake is rolling through your life, upsetting everything and if you let him kiss you it will be real. But that's what you want.

"Please?" you ask him and his whole face lights up before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours. It could be described as fireworks, an erupting volcano, or maybe feeling the first rays of sunlight on your skin after years in darkness, but nothing will come close to the feeling of being kissed by Bucky.

It's a chaste kiss with just his lips moving carefully against yours. It's over quicker than you want but in his place is Steve, turning your head back towards him and descending on you. His fingers run through your hair and he opens your mouth to let his tongue play with yours, the feeling once again indescribable, it's just the feeling of right. Everything about it feels right.

Even if the kiss is slow when he pulls back your breathing is labored and you're clutching his shirt. "I-" you begin but can’t find any words. That kiss ignited something inside you, it's like you're seeing color for the first time, everything is clearer and sharper. What even was your life before?

"Are doing okay Sweets?" Bucky asks next to your ear and you nod in response. When his soft lips caress the side of your neck you whimper and lean your head to give him better access, he chuckles against your skin, nipping it and making you gasp. "I wanna eat you up, find out what you taste like everywhere."

It’s a badly kept secret that Bucky has a marking kink. You’ve seen his exes, you know he's possessive and likes to leave marks. You can't wait to have them on you so you whisper, "Mark me.”

Steve chuckles above you. "She knows you, Bucky," he says with a smile. "You too, Steve, please?" You’re almost begging, but not quite, just asking nicely. "You want me to give you a hickey?" he asks with a crooked smile but those eyes are too easy to read. He craves you. "Or a bruise, or a bite mark, something, anything," "Fuck…" His face changes to match his dark eyes. "You want everyone to know you belong to us, Sweets?" he asks with a hoarse voice and you feel the large bulge in his pants press against your stomach.

You nod, biting your lip. "Show me how you do it, Bucky.” They spin you around and Bucky grabs at the collar of your blouse, pulling harshly, sending the buttons flying over the office. “Hey-” you begin but he pulls the fabric aside exposing the juncture between your shoulder and neck. First, he sinks his teeth in, hard enough for you to hiss but not breaking the skin, then he closes his lips and sucks.

It's painful but the act in itself makes you throb. When he pulls back you release your breath but Steve is quick to pull the neckline on the other side and do the exact same thing. He is gentler but when he's done there is still a purple bruise on your skin. "Fuck me," you whimper against Bucky.

"Yes, Sweets, we will. Long and hard until you can't take it anymore. We're going to ruin you." Steve promises before he grabs you and lifts you up, spinning you so you can wrap your legs around him as he starts walking to the bedroom, Bucky right behind you. You reach your hand out towards him and he grabs it, kissing your palm and knuckles. "We're going to take care of you Sweets, you'll never want for anything," he promises with a wicked smirk.

Steve places you on the edge of the bed and stands up, looking down at you. Bucky comes up beside him, resting his forearm on Steve's shoulder. "Look at our sweets, can you believe it?" Bucky asks. Steve turns to him with a smile. "Yes." Then he places two fingers under Bucky's chin, turning his head before kissing him. It's heated, filthy and it's the hottest thing you've ever seen. You squeeze your legs together to alleviate some of the pressure you're feeling in your cunt. Their kiss shows that it's nothing new, they've obviously done it before and you're a little mad that they have withheld this from you.

When Steve starts pulling on Bucky's clothes you can't keep the moan from slipping out. They both break away and turn to you and you feel small in the best way possible. "Did you like that?" Bucky asks before leaning down and kissing you.

The knowledge that his tongue was just in Steve's mouth and is now sliding against yours makes you moan again. You start undoing the buttons on his shirt and he pulls on your top. When you separate, he pulls it off and you’re left in just your bralette. Steve makes a sound in the back of his throat at the sight and starts taking off his own clothes.

Bucky kneels in front of you on the floor, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them off, while you stare at Steve as more and more skin is revealed. He holds your gaze the whole time and you bite your lip when he starts at his pants. His chest and forearms are huge, covered in tattoos but in no way hiding the muscle underneath. It makes your mouth water and your cunt clench.

Bucky starts kissing up your bare leg, beginning at your ankles and slowly working his way up your calve and the inside of your thigh. When you're still staring at Steve he nips your skin. "I know he's gorgeous but when I eat your pussy I want your eyes on me, Sweets." He tries to look offended but his pupils are blown wide with lust.

Just the thought of him between your legs makes a shiver run through you and your cunt impossibly wetter. Nodding at him you caress the side of his face and watch him, the closer he gets, the more you start to tremble with need. No one had ever made you feel so needy and horny.

Bucky kisses your cunt through your underwear, making you gasp. "Please Bucky, I need you." "I know, I can smell how fucking wet you are Sweets." He twists your panties out of the way. "Fuck, Steve, look at her, she's dripping."

Steve, in just his underwear now, slides his fingers gently through the mess, making you tremble and moan, before bringing the fingers to his mouth and holding your gaze as he licks them clean. Then Bucky's mouth is on you, his tongue licking from your core up to your clit.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck-" you cry and grab the sheets under you, bucking up into his touch. Steve chuckles and gets behind you on the bed. "He looks like he's in heaven, Sweets. He has wanted you for so long." You feel his fingers undo the clasp of your bra and then slide it off. His hands cup your tits a second later, making more sounds spill out of your mouth. His fingers rub, caress, and pull on your nipples while Bucky is hurdling you toward your climax.

"I'm- I'm gonna-" Your legs shake and you grab Steve's arm with one hand, the other going to Bucky's head, grabbing his short hair. Every muscle in your body tenses right before the coil snaps, making you scream out your release, riding Bucky's face and feeling the pleasure-filled waves travel through your body.

You slump against Steve's and he holds you. Bucky pulls back with a shit-eating grin, wiping his face with the back of his hand, saying "Fuck Sweets," before he stands up and starts taking off his clothes.

You already feel amazing, high off your orgasm but you want more and Steve's hard-on is pressing into your back. You turn around on the bed. "Move up," you tell him and his smirk is knowing but he does as you say and moves to sit against the headboard.

You rid yourself of your drenched panties before grabbing his boxers and pulling them off. "Eager Sweets?" he chuckles and fists his cock as soon as it's free. It's thick and long as him and you can't fucking wait. You bite your lip before asking "Condom?"

"I know we should but I want to feel you raw Sweets,” he confesses. “Are you on birth control?" "Sure, and I got tested the week after…" you trail off not wanting the bad memories to ruin the moment. Bucky's heat is suddenly behind you, grabbing your hair and forcing your head back to kiss you deeply. When he lets go he says, "Steve and I got tested like a week before you moved in and I've not even looked another person's way since then." Steve laughs "And I haven't fucked anyone either so get over here and ride my cock Sweets."

To say you scramble is an accurate description, quickly shuffling over to him and straddling his hips. You hold onto his shoulders as he swipes the head of his cock through your mess, holding it still for you to sink down on.

All three of you moan in unison as his dick disappears into your tight hot channel. The grip Steve has on your hips is almost bruising and the look on his face is painful. “F-fuck. Sweets. Damn.” Is all he gets out. You lean in, kissing his cheeks and chin and lips, and start to move, slowly, the feeling is amazing, he's filling you up to the brim perfectly.

"Feels so good," you stutter and then drop down hard. "I'm never watching porn again," Bucky says from behind you and you watch him over your shoulder, kneeling on the bed and jerking his cock. You whine in the back of your throat, you want him too, so you reach for him as you bounce on Steve's cock, making him spill the most delicious sounds.

Bucky shuffles over and you grab his dick in your hand, he's big enough that it doesn't fit all the way around. His hand lands on Steve's shoulder to steady himself and Steve reaches out to place a hand on his hip.

The sounds the three of you make fill the room. It's moans, groans, and whimpers, the sound of slapping skin and squelching wetness. Your clit is steadily rubbing against Steve, getting you closer and closer. Bucky is panting heavily, Steve is too.

"Sweets, I can feel you. Are you gonna come on my cock?" Steve is trying to sound unaffected and failing miserably, but he continues to spill filth that rushes you toward the edge. "When I've filled you up, Bucky is gonna fuck my cum right back into you, aren't you Buck?" "Fuck yes," he groans before leaning in and kissing you deeply. “I wanna see you come on his cock Sweets.”

"Next time I wanna feel both of you come in me at the same time," you whimper. "Sweets, you goddamn slut." Steve groans with a laugh and bucks up into you harder. "Tell us more! Please! I want to hear every filthy little thought hidden inside that mind."

You turn to look at Bucky. "I want both of you in every hole. I want you to use me like I'm a toy and worship me like a queen," you tell him, then turn to Steve. "Put my name on the house and celebrate it by fucking in every room, on every surface, show me all of your kinks, give me everything."

Steve's eyes are screwed shut and he's let go of Bucky to grab your hips, pulling you down onto his big cock. "Keep going," you urge him, your release just a few thrusts away. But he's too close and before you can get there he suddenly sits up to wrap his arms around your waist, crushing you against his chest, thrusting up hard, and comes with a loud moan of your name.

You feel wild, right on the edge of ecstasy but left dangling in mid-air. With pleading eyes and a whine you look at Bucky who smirks at you before pulling you away from Steve and laying you on your back. A second later he fills you up, the sound of his cock pushing through Steve's mess is as sweet as it's nasty.

"Please, Bucky, please," you beg. "Yeah I know, don't worry, not gonna blow my load early," he taunts over his shoulder at Steve who just gives him the finger. "Understand him though, you’re so tight and warm Sweets. Makes me a bit crazy. I just want to fill you up over and over again," he confesses.

"I need to-" you begin but he cuts you off. "Rub your clit for me. Come on my cock," he demands but you know something that is even better than your own fingers and you reach out your arm.

"Steve," you plead and he crawls over to you and lays down beside you, pushing his hand in between your bodies, finding your clit. You arch off the bed with his touch, hands clutching Bucky's arms as he rams into you. The dual sensation is amazing and with how close you were seconds ago the end approaches quickly. Your moans get louder the closer you get and both Bucky and Steve praise you the whole way through.

"You sound so fucking pretty."

"I can barely move you gripping me so tight."

"You're so good at taking cock, Sweets. First mine and now Bucky's, it's like you were made for us."

You nod at the last thing and the pressure in your body is breaking, making your muscles convulse, almost pushing Bucky out with how hard you're coming, screaming their names as you do.

"Fuck! Yes, Sweets!" Bucky’s laugh is a little manic as he works you through it. "I'm going to fill our sweet little cunt with more cum." His hips stutter against you before he groans out your name and collapses on top of you. You run your fingers over his sweaty back and kiss his cheek. Then you turn to Steve, smiling at him beside you. "He's heavy," you complain.

Both of them laugh and Bucky rolls off before they move until you're squeezed in between them, their cum running down your legs, making a mess on the bed. Fortunately, you have at least two other beds to sleep in.

For a few months, you're walking on air. In a throuple with your two best friends, amazing sex, luxury beyond what you could have ever imagined. They constantly spoil you and they've tried to convince you to quit your job since you don't need to work when you're with them.

Tonight you're in another fancy restaurant. Bucky is trying to feed you chocolate cake because it's romantic but you tell him over and over again that you can eat by yourself. Suddenly Steve stiffens beside you and since he isn't known to have tells, you immediately get worried and follow his gaze.

John is standing at the door with a pretty girl on his arm, talking to the waiter and then being shown to a table. Next to yours.

When your eyes meet he stops for a second and his date shoots confused looks between the two of you, before you nod and he nods back, then moves again and sits down.

Steve asks for the check and you're out of your seat and outside the restaurant in no time. Bucky holds your coat as you put it on and a moment later Steve comes out too. His eyes are black with hate and when you're finally in the car you realize that you can't live like this.

"I think-" you begin, swallowing then clearing your throat, "I think I'm going to need those lawyers."

#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!steve rogers #protective!bucky barnes #protective!steve rogers #best friends to lovers #best friend!bucky #best friend!steve #veltana writes #mob!stucky x reader #mob!steve rogers #mob!bucky barnes #mob!steve x reader #mob!bucky x reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers fic #bucky barnes fic

[lovelybarnes]

Flirting and Football- B. Barnes

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader Warnings: past assault of reader, as slow burn as i can, au so bucky is different although i tried to not make him so ooc, sort of enemies to lovers?, genuinely can’t remember anymore, crappy writing in the beginning because i started writing this a year ago but i swear it gets better i promise About: request!! Bucky barnes and a college au where reader is the only one who isn’t interested in him basically

The end of your pen rests between your lips, unused as you scan the textbook page in front of you, your eyes thinning occasionally as you read. Your study partner’s book lays open in front of her, ten pages behind, and notebook adorned with two sole words.

She’s reciting the events of a date she went on yesterday or the day before, although admittedly, you’d only caught detached words for the past double-digit minutes. Your careful attention had dwindled down to nods as you subtly tapped at your notebook, then not-so-subtly and finally disappeared altogether as you made miscellaneous noises. 

You hum along now, eyes flickering from your notes to the material as you annotate pages with bright sticky notes.

She doesn’t seem to notice your disinterest, gushing about arms and hair, and the kiss that changed her life. The words don’t last too long in your mind, too cluttered with equations and vocabulary to make space for them.

“The girls told me he goes on a lot of dates but I can just tell I’m the one.”

You glance at your open computer, frowning at the slimming battery life, and purse your lips at the time. Sighing softly, you meet Quinn’s glazed eyes, offering her a tight smile you hope is somewhat believable.

“Is he in psychology too?” you ask, tapping on the notes the both of you were supposed to start when she began talking.

“Bucky? Oh no,” she laughs, the finger twirling her red hair pulling away to wave her hand dismissively. “He’s in sports or something. He's on the soccer team, you know.”

You nod. “Wow.”

“I know, oh my god.” She fans herself. “Did I tell you he basically won the last game?”

Probably. You duck your chin, highlighting a sentence. “Isn’t it a group effort?”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “Well, yeah, but he scored the winning goal.”

“Okay then,” you agree, deciding that you can finish your notes at your dorm. “I didn’t go to the last game, so what do I know?”

Quinn’s eyes go wide. “You didn’t go?” she exclaims, and you shush her, confirming. “Why?”

You shrug. “I had to do something.”

“You have to go to the next one tomorrow and see him in action. But don’t fall in love,” she warns with a giggle. “He’s mine.”

“Promise,” you reply hollowly, shutting your laptop. “Well, I have to go. This was helpful, though,” you lie.

“Oh, yeah, totally. I have to go too, rest up for the big game tomorrow. Gotta be there early to support Bucky,” Quinn informs. You stack your books to carry them back to your dorm.

“Right,” you respond, standing. “I hope everything goes well with him,” you say as you walk out.

She shoots you a big grin and a nod, her face bright as she agrees.

It’s cold when you step through the doors, bouncing on your feet and hugging your things closer to your chest as you begin to walk toward your dorm. You move to pull out your phone from your back pocket, quickly unlocking it to get to your contacts list. You press on Bruce’s contact and listen to the two beeps until he picks up.

“I hate you so much right now,” you greet, cutting his cheery hello off.

“What? What did I do?”

“‘I’ll be there!’ ‘How could I miss studying physics?’” you mock, imitating his voice. “You left me there, and I was stuck listening to Quinn's monologue about how the quarterback or whatever is the love of her life!”

“What quarterback?” Bruce asks.

“Does it matter? Honestly?” you rebut, taking care to watch your surroundings as you bully your friend. “Your quarterback wouldn’t cheat on you so I’m assuming it’s one that’s not Thor.”

“Okay, okay, I know. I’m sorry about ditching you. Thor and I just finished, we can come by and pick you up at the library. And Thor is a defender. Different sport entirely.”

“Whatever and ew,” you complain. “And I’m already on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“What? I told you to not walk home alone. Just wait for me.”

“Don’t worry. The dorm isn’t that far and you’re not exactly the most threatening anyway,” you remind. “I’ll be fine. ”

“Fine. Keep me on the line and be careful,” Bruce tells you.

“Of course,” you quip. A pause drapes over the two of you, the silence only interrupted by the steady sound of your footsteps on the concrete. You turn, leaves crunching underneath your shoes and you can practically hear Bruce relax somewhat, knowing that you’re nearby. You put him on speaker to hear better. “How’d it go with Thor today?”

“Really good.” The golden thread of happiness threaded through Bruce’s words comes through clear and clean. You can imagine him as he talks into the phone, glancing at Thor to make sure he can’t hear as he plays with his fingers. “I’m really sorry for leaving you there.”

“You’re not,” you amend. “But it’s fine. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I am,” Bruce confirms.

“I don’t know how you find the time to juggle everything. It’s kind of terrifying,” you laugh, expecting him to tease you back, but his answer comes back honest.

“I know you think of boyfriends and whatever as distractions, but it’s the opposite. It’s not juggling if I have help carrying everything.”

You push your tongue against your cheek, listening to the rustling of the trees. You grab your keys as you arrive at your dorm door. “I’m here.”

“Finally.” You roll your eyes, opening the door to see your roommate and her brother inside.

“Hey Wanda, Piet.”

Wanda smiles at you and Pietro winks before greeting Bruce through your phone.

“Okay, Bruce, are we studying tomorrow?” you ask him, balancing your things in your arms. When Pietro notices, he stands, taking your books from you and setting them down on your table. You thank him and pat his arm.

“Before the game? Sure,” he replies. You take him off speaker, pulling your phone to your ear, not noticing that the mention of the game has caught Pietro and Wanda's attention.

“You’re going?” you question. “I thought Thor was benched.”

“He’s off!” There’s a whoop you recognize as Thor’s that makes you smile. “Which is why it’s an important game we need to go to.”

“We?” you echo.

“We as in you and I,” Bruce verifies.

“Wait, I have to go too? Why?” you whine.

Pietro cuts in, “You have to go! How will we win without our lucky charm?”

You purse your lips and squint at him. “Didn’t you guys win last game?”

“Still! Come on, please,” he insists. Wanda joins in, offering to bake you cookies.

You search your brain for excuses. “I have things to do.”

“If it’s not ‘stay home and binge a series,’ I'll let you skip,” Bruce chimes.

You frown as the siblings grin.

“Yeah, you’re going,” Bruce declares. “They’re not that bad and you know it. Besides, Thor wants you to braid his hair. You know my fingers always get tangled.”

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically. “But I want it noted that it’s only because I really like cookies.” You focus on Wanda, who nods enthusiastically. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Bruce repeats your words before you hang up, and at the click, you let yourself fall on your couch.

Wanda kisses your head and pats your shoulder comfortingly. “It’s going to be fun.”

“Standing in the middle of students I don’t know as they yell at a ball does not sound fun to me,” you disagree, but she ignores you.

“Even Vis is going,” she argues. “And you know how excited Thor gets when you braid his hair.”

You mutter incoherently.

“We’ll leave at three,” she instructs with a smile.

-

“I could be doing so many useful things right now,” you hiss at Bruce, remembering the half-written essay you have saved on your laptop, a string of frustratedly typed letters highlighted and waiting to be replaced with something coherent typed just beneath it.

Bruce had made you leave just as you began to taste the word you were looking for, assuring you that going out to see a game would somehow give your fried mind the jolt it needed. With little argument and the promise you’d committed to with a hook of your pinkie, you’d sighed and shut your laptop, leaving your apartment early to see the team before the game.

You could recognize some faces thanks to Pietro forcing you out to a few team celebrations and the occasional game you never paid much attention to. Although he’d laid off a while ago when Bruce and Thor started dating, your best friend had dragged you to every soccer-related event he didn’t want to go to alone. Pietro never minded your absence as much as Bruce did, always satisfied as long as you celebrated or consoled him afterward.

The word you’d been wracking your brain for suddenly comes to mind when you sit next to Bruce on a bench, pulling your phone out of your pocket to note it down, not noticing when the entire soccer team begins to leave the locker room, spilling into the hall where you’re slumped with your best friend.

Thor bellows your name excitedly when he spots you both, heading over. You glance up to give him a smile, quickly continuing to type the stray thoughts you’d been trying to catch when he turns, an extravagant arm extending as if to present you to the few guys with him. “This is the lovely lady I told you all about. She is very smart.”

You laugh at his introduction, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “Thank you, Thor.”

“Of course! And you all know Bruce, of course.”

There are chimes of agreement and greetings for your friend, a few of the players coming up to you. Pietro arrives first, as always, and pecks your forehead. “I, for one, am very glad you came to cheer us on.”

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” another says, huge and blonde, but his features are softened by an open grin. “I’m Steve.” He juts a finger at the brunet next to him, his hair tied up into a neat little bun at the nape of his neck, blue eyes shining as they observe you. “That’s Bucky.”

You smile at them, nodding. “Nice to meet you. I’ve actually heard a lot.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. “Really?”

You stare at him blankly, opening and closing your mouth like a fish. “I meant Steve.” Steve looks startled. “I saw his work when I was volunteering at the art show last month. It was great, I actually bought the piece with the lilies!”

“Oh.” Bucky blinks blankly, tongue poking into his cheek before he clears his throat and manages a lift of the left edge of his lips. “‘Makes sense someone so pretty would have good taste.”

You stare silently at him for a second, relieved when Steve’s surprise takes a second to process.

“Wait, me?” Steve points stupidly at himself. “My art?”

“It was amazing, I couldn’t let it slip by!”

“I told you,” Bucky tells him, elbowing his arm. He, unlike the other players, wears a dark sleeve over the entirety of his left arm, all the way up to his fingers. His fingertips, jagged pink, peek out. “I wish you woulda let me go. I could’ve seen the art and met her sooner.”

His friend sends him a furtive glance. “Is this your first time coming to a game?” Steve wonders as he turns back to you. 

You shake your head. “Pietro is my roommate’s brother and Thor’s my best friend’s boyfriend. They drag me here when they feel like it, but it’s my first time being back here.” You gesture to the hall. “I’m usually a little late because Bruce drives like a grandmother.”

Bruce sighs, sending you a short glance that you respond to with a gentle nudge of his shoulder.

Blue eyes nods, careful to give you his full attention. “Well, I think you should come around more often.”

You scan him for a second. “Why?” you ask genuinely.

He pauses as he begins to explain, eyes pinched in confusion before Thor’s booming voice cuts him off, reminding you that you need to braid his hair. You give them a final smile before standing. “Duty calls, I guess.”

“So you’ll come around?” He calls after you, frowning when you respond with a transparent smile and ingenuine thumbs up. “Huh,” he says.

“What?” Steve responds, a little slowly, knowingly. He knows well what is making Bucky’s features crease in that way, but he’d prefer hearing it from his friend’s mouth.

“Just… wondering why I’d never seen her before. Pretty.”

“Uh huh.” Steve nods disbelievingly. Knowing he isn’t going to be able to push it out of his friend, he begins to walk toward the field, not waiting up for Bucky, the man caught up in his thoughts. “‘Thought it was because the line didn’t work,” he finally tells him, catching Bucky’s attention.

“What’re you talkin’ about, punk? What line?”

Steve snickers. “Any of ‘em.”

-

The next time Bucky sees you is across the courtyard, arms wrapped around books, your fingers curved protectively around the edges of your laptop. You struggle as you talk to someone he recognizes, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet as you reach to brush strands of hair away from your eyes.

Why you don’t have a backpack like every other person is beyond him, but it’s the last thing on his mind when your eyes meet his and you smile and wave. Yeah, he knows how to handle this—the attention, the blushing, the flattery.

The hand he raises to wave back freezes awkwardly when he realizes your attention isn’t on him, but rather following something behind his shoulder. His hand lowers as he feels Pietro brush past him and over to you, Wanda following close by. She catches Bucky’s actions and sends him an amused look.

You accept the kiss Pietro drops on your forehead and greet Wanda excitedly, too busy chatting with her to notice the two pens that slip from your pile.

Bucky sniffs, tugging his varsity jacket tighter and deciding to embrace his mistake, walks over to you.

“Hey,” he greets, your name coming out like silk, shooting you a smile. He bends down to pick up your pens, handing them to you with a cajoling rise of his lips.

You return it a pause later. “Hey, um—thanks…” you struggle for a second before you’re cut off.

“Bucky!” the classmate that you were talking to exclaims, and Bucky realizes it’s Quinn, the girl he’d gone out on a date with a while ago. “I saw you on the field yesterday,” she tells him, twirling a strand of red hair around her finger. “You were amazing.”

“I appreciate it,” he thanks her, his eyes flickering back to you for a second, spotting you beginning to step away with a short wave and an elbow to Wanda's side. “I should go, I needed to talk to her,” he starts, acting quickly. “But it was nice to see you again. You look great, I like your necklace.”

Quinn’s fingers reach to pinch at the pendant on her chain, tilting her head at Bucky as she beams. “Thank you!”

Bucky nods, turning to find you gone. He looks around, surprised, but finally catches sight of you turning a corner with your friends. Before he can head toward you, Quinn catches his arm.

“Aren’t you going to ask me out again?” She smiles at him, eyes wide and shiny.

He winces, forcing himself to not glance back at you. “You’re a really great girl, Quinn, but I don’t think we’d work out. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Quinn says quietly, not returning the apologetic smile he sends her. He twists his lips and apologizes again before jogging over to you, slowing to match your pace when he finally catches up.

“Hey again,” he quips, offering you a smile. You return it kindly, twirling your pens between your fingers.

“Hey, Bucky.” Probably accidentally, you enunciate his name in a way that makes him realize you didn’t remember it when he came up to you earlier, and he bites back an embarrassed blush. “It was a good game yesterday.”

“Thank you,” he replies easily. “How was I?”

You cock your head at him. “Fine? You… were a soccer player.”

Pietro laughs, pulling you closer. “He’s asking if he lived up to the stories,” he clarifies, shooting Bucky a look. “‘Does another pretty girl think I’m great too?’” he mocks, the imitation edged in his accent.

You hum in understanding, turning back to Bucky. “Stories?” you echo. Your features bear no likeness to the pull Bucky is used to with girls, nothing implying the agreement or validation he’s usually welcomed with.

“Oh, you know,” Bucky starts with a nonchalant shrug, “of the ‘insane stamina’ and ‘could totally carry a bus’ variety. You know, the ‘Winter Soldier’ name.”

Your eyebrows raise. “‘Winter Soldier?’” you repeat, words bolded in an unconscious drama.

“’S my nickname,” Bucky explains sheepishly. You continue to stare at him for a second before cracking a smile.

“Bucky Barnes, right?” you ask him. He pushes his tongue against his cheek at the blow to his ego and nods. “Which one were you again? All the uniforms are the same, I can only recognize Thor and Piet.”

Pietro hoots. “Fifteen, baby!”

Bucky eyes you, his cheeks pulling with an amused lilt. “You wound me, doll.”

“I wound you?” you giggle, unable to help it. “This is our first conversation and I have the power to wound you. I don’t know how I feel about having this power over a stranger.”

Bucky gasps, reaching out to grab your hand with his ungloved hand and wrap it around an invisible knife to plunge it into his chest. He chokes as he mimes nursing his wound. “Just digging it in deeper, aren’t you? Vixen.”

“Oh, come on, you expect me to have learned your number after knowing you for five minutes?” you exclaim with mild indignance, a whisper of amusement betraying it. You click your tongue. “You were fine, I’m sure,” you respond finally. Wanda jabs an elbow into your arm and whispers something to you. Your eyes light up. “Oh, you’re seventeen! The ball hogger! You do realize you’re in a team, right?”

Pietro claps, nodding approvingly at you. “And me, little flower?”

You roll your eyes. “You were fast. Like always.”

“That’s code for ‘the best out there,’” Pietro tells Bucky.

“I think the code for that is Bucky Barnes,” Bucky retorts, turning back to you. “‘Got a favorite player yet?” He asks you.

You tilt a brow at him. “On the soccer team?”

“Yeah,” Bucky confirms.

“Based off of what?” You counter.

“Anything.”

“Oh.” You think. “Then no.”

Pietro clears his throat loudly.

“What if I get you the best seat possible next game?” Bucky offers.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m good where I am.”

“She barely pays attention anyway,” Wanda informs. “All she does is complain.”

You nod. “And I can do that in any seat.”

“Alright… what if you wear my jersey at the next game?” Bucky continues.

You raise an eyebrow. “And you’re convincing me, right?”

“You should be swooning right now,” Bucky argues accusingly, but his words are tinged with a grin.

“Oh, my bad,” you deadpan, placing a hand on your chest and rocking on your heels. You flutter your lashes at him and melt your lips into a watery smile. “Oh my, golly! Benson’s sweaty jersey!”

“Bucky,” Bucky grumbles. “Bucky’s sweaty jersey.”

“Right,” you reply with an attentive nod, laughing quietly. Your attention is drawn by another building and you turn. “I gotta go, but please keep the jersey far away from me.” You point at Bucky and then wave at Wanda and Pietro. “I’ll see you guys around.”

“Me too!” Bucky shouts after you. You only reply with a thumbs up Bucky can tell is sarcastic even if he can’t see your face, slipping past a closing door. Bucky purses his lips, looking after you. “Huh.”

A hand slaps down on his shoulder, and Pietro's laughter bubbles from behind him. “Nice work,” he lies.

-

Entirely suddenly, your mind feels vignetted with inky stress. You suppose it was predictable, having ignored the weight your responsibilities had lain on your shoulders for as long as you had, but it’s exhausting nonetheless. You blink slowly at your document in a lousy attempt to soothe yourself, feeling as though you were staring at it through a tunnel.

You yawn as you splay yourself out on your bed, stretching your legs out as far as you can. Your fingertips brush your pillows as you let your eyelids fall closed for just a second, thoughts and reminders of the rest of the things you need to do lining your entrance to sleep, but the door is so inviting, the red tape of your to-do list blurring.

Your ringtone cuts in when you begin to reason with yourself, back straightening fast enough to give you whiplash when you open your eyes again. Your hand slams around your phone, blinking fast as you read Bruce’s contact name.

“The thing,” you mumble, remembering Bruce’s insistence that you went to something. You answer his call and fight to not let yourself fall back on your bed, free fingers moving to rub at your temple.

“Hey, are you ready?” Bruce asks, the sounds of conversation in the background.

“Sure,” you answer tiredly, looking down at yourself. Whoever it is you’re going out with can’t be too picky. “Ready for what again?”

“The team’s win? We’re going out to eat at an actual restaurant and everything.”

You purse your lips. “Are we going to a bar?”

There’s a moment of silence on his end, only highlighted by the muffled voices that converse. “...No.”

Nodding earnestly, you stand, stretching and shaking your limbs out in an attempt to wake yourself up, but the attempt is mocked when you yawn once again. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and wince, tilting your chin up to get another angle. “Then, yes, I’m ready. I guess.”

“That's great!” Bruce praises. “Because we are outside.”

You frown, grabbing a hair tie from your dresser before walking out of your room, surprised to see your apartment empty. “We?” you repeat as you look around, confused. “Are Wan and Pietro with you?”

“They’re probably already there. And ‘we’ as in I picked up Thor, Steve, and Bucky.”

You grunt in response, shutting off the lights and plucking your keys from the counter before locking up.

“You know Bucky. He’s not that bad.”

There are sounds of protest and you catch an offended ‘that bad?’ before you hang up, waving to Bruce’s car. The door to the back opens before you can touch the handle, a grinning face and shiny blue eyes welcoming you. “Hey, doll, you look great.”

“Bunny,” you greet, ducking your chin in a nod. Bucky gets out of the car, extending a hand to invite you inside.

“I don’t mind that one.” Bucky winks.

You shake your head, crawling inside and saying hi to Steve, nose wrinkling when you realize you’ll be sandwiched between the two guys, and turning when you notice Bucky getting in again. You tug on your seatbelt with a polite smile to Steve, bumping into hard muscle when you aim for the buckle.

“You tryna cop a feel? Could’ve just asked,” Bucky tells you, bumping you gently.

“Oh please,” you scoff, poking him with the metal thing. “Excuse me, seatbelt. Bruce isn’t that great of a driver. He’s in his twenties and gets night blindness.”

Bucky pats your hand gently and takes the belt from you, clicking it into place for you.

“Nice and safe, don’t worry, doll.”

You set your lips into a thin line and look straight ahead, pushing your phone into the space between your thighs so you don’t lose it. “How’d you do on your Norse mythology exam, Thor?” you ask, recalling the nerves with which he’d told you about it a couple of days ago.

“Wonderful! I really enjoy the subject. Thank you for helping me study,” Thor replies cheerily.

“You didn’t even need to,” you assure, stifling a yawn. Bucky frowns.

“Did you get some sleep?” Bruce wonders, eyeing you at a red light.

“Yeah, I drank some coffee,” you respond.

“Not the same thing. Not even close.”

You laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you promise. “Stop worrying.”

“I’m always worried,” Bruce grumbles.

“Hey, how was art today?” you ask Steve, nudging his arm gently. Bucky’s brows furrow, urging Steve to look at him and read his mind with an intense stare. Steve does not.

“You were right. I was being too judgemental,” Steve sighs. “I should’ve listened to you.”

“Listened to who?” Bucky buts in. “How did you know Stevie had art today?” he continues, trying to keep his tone light.

“We talk.” You shrug. 

“Oh,” Bucky starts, glaring at Steve. “Do you?”

“Yes.” You nod before actually yawning that time. “I’m sorry.”

“You should sleep more,” Bucky comments, watching you shake your head wearily.

“I have things to do,” you defend. “I sleep enough, it’s the stupid car ride, I always fall asleep in cars,” you defend. “But if it pleases you, I’ll sleep the entirety of tomorrow.” Your voice lacks the thick sleeve of satire you tend to use with him, more vulnerable in your exhaustion. Although your request is still sarcastic, Bucky can tell you know you need it.

“It will,” Bucky says.

For the most part, the conversation ends there, the group splitting into their own things during the car ride. After a few minutes, Bucky feels your head fall softly on his shoulder.

He stops paying attention to what Thor is saying, instead focusing on the way you edge toward him in your sleep, nudging your nose into his shoulder. He can see the way your lashes lay on your cheeks when you’re so close and the pretty bridge of your nose.

You’re more open than he’s ever seen you, eyes shut and lips parted with gentle breaths, and he can’t stop staring at you.

Then the car goes over a harsh bump, and Bucky wants to do everything he can to hold you still, but your eyes flutter open and you sit up, meeting his eyes for a second. “Sorry.”

“It's no problem,” Bucky assures, wanting to keep examining the lines of your face, but you clear your throat, looking forward, and Bucky has no choice but to do so too.

-

The surprise Bucky feels when he spots you at the celebration party is no match for the sweet excitement at the bottom of his stomach, immediately pulling his sleeve further down over his arm and brushing away loose strands of his hair. It would be embarrassing how much he cares about what you think of him if it weren’t so ridiculously important to him.

He busies himself with getting a drink for you, finding himself wondering if you’d come before, only to go unnoticed by him. There’s a startling burst of anger at himself with the thought, and Bucky blinks, eyes continuing to drift to you. Resolute, he moves toward you but pauses as he observes you.

The look on your face is one Bucky has never seen before—though he hasn’t seen many looks on your face before—but it settles so naturally on your features that it is difficult to argue that it’s unfamiliar. You look intense, but the way your eyes scan Wanda's boyfriend—who’s been dubbed Vision—is dangerous. Cocky.

You say something and your entire face relaxes resolutely, but your eyes remain expectant and arrogant, unamused with your companion’s reply.

Vision—who Bucky has heard is never wrong—sure seems wrong in whatever argument he’s just lost against you, and you know it.

“How’re my favorite geniuses?” Wanda pipes up suddenly, forcing Bucky’s daze away, appearing from an unknown place to sling an arm around you. You snap out of the look, your face softening, but the pleasure of being right dances across your features. Bucky clears his throat and takes a sip from his beer, stepping toward you.

“Oh, you know, out-geniusing the other,” you reply, glancing at Bucky as he walks up behind Vision.

“Hey Dolly,” he smiles. “I thought you had too many books to read to go out.”

“I finished them all,” you respond. “And ‘Dolly’? How old are you?”

Bucky clicks his tongue. “What would you prefer, sweetheart?”

“My name,” you state, then squint at him, cocking your head. “Do you remember it? I imagine it’s hard to keep track.”

“Of course I remember.” Bucky scoffs. “I don’t think I could forget.”

You breathe out a laugh. “Right, I’d imagine asking her out to swing dance without it would be pretty hard.”

“Are you asking me to swing dance with you?” Bucky retorts.

You snort. “Yeah, sure.”

Bucky holds out his hand expectantly, covered arm at his side.

Your eyes thin resolutely at him, scrutinizing the details of his face before you shake your head. “You’re ridiculous,” you criticise.

His hand drops and he pouts. “C’mon, pretty please.”

“Do you know what music you swing dance to?” you ask him, wagging a finger to refer to the booming music drowning most sounds inside the house. “Because this isn’t it.”

“I need to take advantage of the fact that you’re here, doll. You said so yourself you don’t go out much,” he complains. 

“Yeah, this is why!” you reply, your last words getting louder as the music impossibly gains volume.

“What?!” Bucky shouts, moving closer to hear you better, but you laugh and shake your head, telling him something he can’t make out. When you realize he can’t hear you, you give him a pout.

“And I was just about to say yes,” you say sadly.

“Wha—” Bucky’s cut off by the sharp shattering of glass. With a cringe, your eyes widen as you look behind him, eyes flickering back to him expectantly. He turns and groans. “I have to check that out. I’ll be right back!” he pledges, walking away to see a deadly amount of broken alcohol bottles on the floor, the stench of their contents burning his nose.

When he comes back, you’re gone.

The disappointment that blankets over his shoulders at the fact is just as surprising to him.

-

You’re in your bubble at the library, a little clueless to everything going on around you as you thumb the corner of a page, your pinky hovering below your book’s cover. You’re a few pages away from something exciting, teeth digging in with anticipation for it, when someone enters your field of vision, a large figure plopping down on a seat in front of you.

You spare them a glance and are surprised to find Bucky, sporting a large grin and his varsity jacket. You observe him suspiciously for a few moments, having never seen him even near the library, before returning your attention to what you’re reading.

“So, you’re actually here, huh?” he asks, and you shush him, shooting him a look to lower his voice. “Sorry.”

“Why are you here?” you question lowly instead, still not putting down your book.

“Anyone can come to the library.” Bucky points out, your name playfully scornful. You level a look at him.

“Yes. Why are you here? With me? You didn’t know my name until, like, two days ago.” You’re careful to keep your voice down.

“First of all,” Bucky starts, beginning to list off his fingers. “We met two weeks and three days ago.”

“Did we?” you drone, attempting to concentrate on the lines of your book once more.

“And, how do you know we don’t just have alternating study days?” Bucky points out.

“I am here every day,” you inform. “And if that were the case, why would you be here right now?” you rebut. “What would you be studying for? Coaching?”

“Maybe I wanted to switch things up,” Bucky defends. “And I’m not studying coaching. I’m studying biomedical engineering.”

You meet his eyes at the revelation, unable to keep the surprise off your face. You fold down the edge of the last page you read offhandedly and let your book flutter closed. “What? Quinn said you were in… sports.”

“Well,” Bucky sucks in a breath as if what he’s about to tell you is a revelation. “Soccer is a sport.”

“I know,” you affirm blandly. “But are you actually in biomedical?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nods. “What, do you not believe me?” he asks, raising a gloved hand to his chest. “I must say, I’m very disappointed in you perpetuating harmful stereotypes.”

“I’m just surprised. You’ve never talked about it before.”

“We’ve talked four times,” Bucky points out. “Although I want it clear that I have tried to make it more.”

“Yeah, what’s that about, by the wayt?” you wonder, setting your elbows on the table and dropping your face into your hands, cocking your head at him. “From what I’ve seen, you have your fair pick of girls and guys.”

“I wouldn’t say that—”

You laugh quietly. “Sure.”

“But I like you,” Bucky explains, shrugging. “You’re smart and pretty and you interest me.”

You scan his face, squinting. Astonishment tints your chuckle. “You are so much better at this than I thought you were.”

“Sorry?”

“At first, I was like ‘this guy? This is the Becky people won’t shut up about?’”

“Bucky,” he corrects swiftly.

“But I see it now. The charm. I’m not falling for it, but I see it.” You nod appreciatively and open your book once again to continue reading.

Bucky frowns in front of you, reaching over to insert an abrupt hand in between the pages. “What are you talking about?”

Sighing, you peel his fingers off the pages and meet his eyes, startled to see their intensity, crinkles at their edges, his lips pinched in a pout. You gasp. “Oh my god, you’re doing it now.”

“Sweetheart, it’s something that just happens naturally, I’m not doing anything.”

You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head, turning back to your book. “You are insufferable.”

“And you’re beautiful.”

“And you’re ridiculous.”

“Go out with me, c’mon,” Bucky urges, smiling now. It’s stupidly sweet.

You click your tongue. “Dates are a waste of time.”

“I’ll make it worth it. Promise.”

“I don’t have time to go out with guys I’ve talked to four times,” you explain.

“Alright, so if I talk to you more, you’ll go out with me?”

You wrinkle your nose. “I don’t… I’m not liking where this is going.”

“I will talk to you every single day from now on,” Bucky vows.

“Oh, I was right,” you groan. “I just mean you don’t know me. My favorite color, my favorite book, my order at my favorite restaurant, things like that.”

“I will know all of that,” he pledges.

You laugh disbelievingly. “Okay, Borky.”

A cocky little smirk plays on his lips as he winks. “Bucky,” he says archly.

-

You learn his name. Completely. Totally. Unmistakably. 

It’s hard not to, not when he becomes a constant in your life and not with a name like that.

James Buchanan Barnes. It rolls off your tongue too nicely all of a sudden.

He talks to you every day. Just like he said he would, even if it’s a two-minute conversation over text where he makes sure you get home safe and asks about your day. It would be overwhelming if it didn’t make you smile so much.

He doesn’t get upset when you answer two hours later because you were distracted with work, asking you how Linda the librarian was and if she liked the cookie he got her three days ago.

You relay her enthusiastic message, deciding to brush over the wink and coy smile she sent you at his mention. Then maybe, because you’re finished with your work for the day, you shove aside your notebook and bite back a small smile when he tells you how pretty he thought you looked in the glimpses he had of you today.

Organizing your books into a neat little pile, you message him and Bruce that you’re heading home. And you intend to, you really do, but then Bucky insists you call him the next time so he can walk you home, and you’ve suddenly been sitting at your table, uselessly leaning against your things for ten minutes.

You shoot up when you realize, lightly bewildered with yourself, gathering everything into your arms as quickly as possible, and shoving your phone into your back pocket. You hope Bruce isn’t getting too worried as you push open the library doors, hurrying down the steps and onto the path you usually take. You’re alert as always, careful to listen past the crunching of leaves beneath your feet and watch for shadows that edge past yours, digging your keys out of your pocket to hold them in the spaces between your fingers.

It’s three minutes in when you begin to feel unsettled. Your phone has vibrated three times in your back pocket in the past two minutes, but the darker section of your path is coming up, and chills rush up your neck as you imagine what the distraction could cost.

A shadow follows nearby, inching closer and closer until your hands are shaking and you’re on the verge of running.

Fingers wrap around your arm and you shriek, books slipping from your arms when they wane. Stumbling back, you tug yourself away from the intrusion, breaths coming out in big, wet gasps when you turn. Bucky’s wide blue eyes meet your glossy ones, hands up in surrender when he catches the tremble of your bottom lip.

A tear streaks down your cheek in profusing relief that it’s only him, the anger indistinguishable beneath it as you stumble into Bucky on wobbly knees, his name braided in a whimper. His arms settle around you hesitantly, guiltily.

“You scared me,” you whisper. “Don’t you know not to sneak up on people?”

“I'm sorry,” he replies sincerely. “I didn’t think—”

“I'm just relieved it’s you,” you interrupt, fingers fisting his shirt. You’re far away, stuck in a memory very far away, and yet it feels enough like you’re standing in it. Your grip is a vice, forcing him closer still until the pads of your fingers can feel the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. 

Bucky murmurs your name, a large palm stroking up and down your back in comfort. His voice is mournful. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You snap out of it at the nickname, pulling away from his embrace as if you’d awoken. He doesn’t startle, only stares at the furrow of your brow and the light that reflects off of your cheeks. Swallowing hard, you blink away the rest of your daze, eyes falling on your things scattered on the ground.

“My computer,” you remember, frantically dropping to your knees to search for it.

Bucky doesn’t pry, kneeling next to you to help pick up your books, taking the ones you’d stacked up sloppily into his arms. You carry your laptop with a careful grip, relatively unharmed.

“I should get going,” you tell him, motioning to take your things from him but he refuses, ushering you into his car.

It’s silent for a while after you halfheartedly agree, obviously still embarrassed. Bucky’s hesitant to probe, but the guilt at what he could’ve reminded you of gnaws at his gut.

You can feel his stare each time he glances at you curiously; cautiously, as if you’ll burst into tears spontaneously. 

“I was attacked once.” Your voice is quiet, soft for the obvious teeth the words pierce you with. “Walking home from the library,” you explain. “It’s why Bruce doesn’t like me walking home alone.”

“You… someone…” Bucky pinches his lips into a tense line, fingers tightening around the wheel. “Why?” It’s painfully incredulous.

You look down at your lap, the left edge of your lips pulling into your cheek. “I was alone. It was easy.” What’s left to say seems painful for you to push out. “He didn’t like me very much.”

“I'm sorry,” Bucky offers after a tense second, unsure of what else to say and how angry he can be for you.

“For what? You didn’t have anything to do with it,” you retort, offering him a weak smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“For scaring you,” Bucky insists sincerely. “For the fact that it happened in the first place.” You don’t respond, watching as trees and lights flash past the window.

“It really wasn’t as bad as you think. The label makes it seem worse,” you palliate. “He hit me once and pushed me against a wall. A bruise was the worst of it. Both physically and to my bank account.”

Bucky’s frown stays, quiet blanketing the both of you.

“So, why’d you come get me? How’d you know I was only on my way?” you chime suddenly.

“I wanted to check up on you. You weren’t answering your phone.”

You pause, meeting his eyes with an inquisitive pinch to your features. “So you drove to find me?”

“Technically, I just wanted to drop by your apartment to make sure you got home safe, but that sounds better, so let’s go with it.” Bucky shoots you a grin. An olive branch.

You accept it as you mimic the sweet curve of his lips. “Ah, yes, and that’s how Barnacle gets ‘em. Being charming and funny and sweet—”

He lets a light chuckle slip past his lips, sparing you a delicate glance. You’re already looking at him, softer in your gaze than he’s ever seen you.

He hums inquisitively. “You think I'm charming and funny and sweet?”

You laugh openly, shaking your head but not negating his words. You hug your laptop closer to your chest, constellations reflected in your shadowed eyes as you look through the window. “I think—” you inhale in relief. “We’re here.”

Bucky slows to a stop when he reaches your dorm, shutting off the car and stepping out as you pack up. You only notice his actions when your fingers slip past the handle once you move to open your own door, huffing air out of your nose when he smirks wantonly at you.

“Thank you,” you grunt, climbing out and clutching your things.

You walk ahead, listening to the door slam and the subsequent sound of shoes quick against the pavement until he walks steadily beside you. “So, you wanna do that again soon?”

You laugh, motioning to grab your keys. “Do what again?”

He steals the jingling set from your fingers, moving hurriedly to the door when you make a noise hald surprise half indignation. He jams a silver one in, cringing when it doesn’t fit. You glower as you reach him, eyeing his hands as they continue to shove the wrong key in the lock. “It's the bronze one—no, the other one. How do you not—”

The door swings open, a satisfied smile parting Bucky’s face.

“Thanks,” you sigh, taking back your keys as you step inside. He stands outside awkwardly, kicking a pebble around with his foot. You squint doubtfully at him after you’ve set your things down and he’s not following behind you like you thought he would be. “What’re you doing?”

“You have to invite me in,” he explains.

“What, like a vampire?”

He blinks. “Yeah, like a vampire.”

You grin toothily. “Vucky…” It drips in an exaggerated accent.

“It's cold out here,” he reminds.

“Maybe you should go home then,” you suggest.

His face drops for a second and you find yourself feeling a tug of something sickening at your stomach. Like a reflex, the offer leaves your throat before you can help it.

“Or. Come inside.” At his hesitant posture, you suck in a bubble of air. “Do you want to come in? You’re welcome to.” I want you to.

He stares at you long enough for you to squirm before a smile breaks through his face. “Really?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, flimsy regret already churning in your gut. “Yeah. Just come on in already. It’s cold outside, dummy.”

-

It’s startling the first time you miss Bucky's ever-constant presence.

You’d rather not admit it, but it’s hard not to—not when he finds you between classes to carry your books, teasing you about your lack of a backpack but always leaving you with only your laptop and a pen in hand. You can’t help the smiles when he “coincidentally” bumps into you at your favorite coffee shop enough times to have your order ready when you arrive on your tea day.

His goofy jokes while you study at the library get less annoying and, annoyingly, more endearing. You suddenly know a whole lot about biomedical engineering and Bucky. You know his sister’s favorite color and can spout stories about Steve before he grew five times his size like you were there yourself.

It's infuriating, you think, but you don’t mind as much when Bucky's making you laugh with lovely crinkles at the edges of his eyes.

“I like the ocean,” you say sometime at the library, books spread on the table, ignored. He looks up from his notebook in surprise, putting down the pen you’d lent him two weeks ago. “It’s the reason why my favorite color is blue.”

His own blue glitters as he nods, listening. “‘Thought it was because of my eyes.”

You reward him a laugh and a roll of your eyes. “I really wanted Atlantis to be real when I was little,” you tell him. “And mermaids. Even if they were the ugly ones that murder you,” You confess in a rare moment of transparency, meeting his eyes before you clear your throat, bringing your attention back to your laptop.

“I like space,” Bucky offers. “It's endless.”

You nod in acceptance, clearing your throat as if to rid yourself of what you’ve given him.

“You collect those squished pennies, right?” Bucky asks. 

You’re startled that he remembers, and it takes a second for your brain to catch up. “Uh—yeah. Why?” 

Bucky turns to dig around in his bag, pulling out something small and bronze and shiny with a brilliant smile. ”I went to this little souvenir shop the other day and found one of those machines.” He extends it to you and flips it slowly between his index and middle. “It has a little fuzzy monster thing on it. I don’t get it, to be honest.”

It never crossed your mind that he would do that for you. A startling line of electricity runs up your arm when your fingers meet his, quick to take the penny from him. “Thank you,” you mutter, observing the coin in the light. The large eyes of the embossed little monster stare back at you. “This is really nice of you.”

“It’s not big deal,” Bucky shrugs. “I just thought you’d like it.”

Honey fills your throat. Gulping, you glance at the clock, nearly relieved to see it’s time for you to leave. “I gotta go,” you tell him, gathering your things. The smooth edges of the penny dig into your palm. He stands in tandem, rolling his shoulders.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to,” you begin.

“I want to. Besides, it would kind of feel weird not to after so long.”

You nod along. “Right.” 

He ducks his chin in affirmation, picking up his stuff too. Furtively, he lightens your own load.

You notice but know better than point it out and argue, remembering how you ended up bedrudgingly carrying only a pen last time.

“Does Sam still have your car?” you ask as you leave the library.

“Yup. One more week, he says.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Well, he’s been saying that for two, so…”

You laugh, staring up at a big tree vignetted orange.

Bucky nudges you lightly as you begin to drift away, preventing you from walking into the street. He guides you past a fissure in the sidewalk as you gasp at something in a boutique’s window. “There’s a sale at the bookstore!”

“Wanna go tomorrow?” Bucky asks.

You nod. “Can we?”

“Sure, we’ll just leave the library a little earlier,” Bucky suggests, balancing the books in his arms.

“Someone’s sure of themselves,” you tease. “You’re walking me home tomorrow, too?”

“Of course. I have been for months,” Bucky points out with a shrug.

Your jests die on your tongue as you realize he’s right, the discovery shocking when the memories of your solitary walks are further away than you had thought; suddenly, you remember that the dog you’d pointed out two weeks ago was more for his benefit than yours.

“Weeks,” you argue weakly, throat suddenly dry.

“Weeks could definitely be months,” Bucky reasons. 

You ignore him, stopping in your tracks. “Why?”

A frown tugs at his lips as he pauses as well. “Because weeks add up to months?”

“Why have you been walking me home every day for months?”

“‘Thought it was weeks?”

“Bucky,” you say, a little urgent.

He shrugs boyishly, near flippant but your things in his arms don’t let you believe that. “I don't want you to walk alone.” Then, “I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Shocked pupils dart around wildly and it’s difficult to swallow before you steady yourself, clearing your throat. Your features are pinched in a sort of raw determination—open, honest. “Thank you.”

He smiles and it’s soft as he shrugs lightly, nearly nonchalant.

Before you let yourself get too caught up in the curve of his lips and realize you’ve imitated it unconsciously, you look away, clearing your throat in relief when you spot your door.

“Right. Um, thanks again.” You take your things from him before he can think twice about it, speed walking to your door.

“Wait—” he stammers out, confused and too late when you give him a wave and a quick goodbye before slamming the door shut.

You swallow hard on the other side of the door, wide eyes staring aimlessly into the darkness. In the dreaded stillness, you can feel the heat that creeps up your neck and floods stickily into your face, the prickling static that needles into your palms. Shakily and illicitly, a hand drifts up to your chest, pressing to feel the thundering beating of your heart.

You curse to the silence, letting your eyes flutter shut in candied disappointment.

-

Bucky thinks you’re acting weird.

No—he’s sure you’re acting weird.

He knows you now, can recognize the sarcastic lines of your cheeks when you wrinkle your nose and poke fun at him. He’s memorized the genuine curve of your lips when he’s said something so cheesy it circles around to sweet. He knows you at your angry and at your happy, but he doesn’t know this.

You’re being nice to him. Sticky nice. Not you-nice.

He tries teasing first, poking a pencil into the flesh of your arm and asking if you’d fallen in love or something. You’d scoffed, blinked fast, and swatted him away. But you didn’t say no.

He’s aware he’s a fool to think so large of a lack of something, but he can’t pretend like it doesn’t inspire something in him, something like hope, like nectar, sticky in his throat.

He wonders if it clogs words up in yours—if it’s the reason you’re so quiet.

You stare through your computer, steam from your tea disappearing into the air as you blink. There’s a sweet indent in between your eyebrows, similar to the one you get when you study something you don’t completely understand, usually accompanied by the nail of your thumb between your teeth. But this one is lighter, more unintentional. You’re struggling with something but he can’t figure out what.

Your eyes flicker up to his, glinting in the light when you catch them on you.

“What?” you blurt. It’s louder than you intend, and you purse your lips in that embarrassed way that you do, shrinking down into your seat. “Why are you staring at me?”

“You’re pretty,” he says honestly.

He waits for your usual flustered reaction and you give it to him, but it’s vignetted with something, different in the quick blinks of your eyes and the thumb you brush over your nose. 

“I'm hungry,” you complain, ignoring his compliment.

“I'll buy you something,” Bucky responds immediately, already pulling out his wallet.

“You don’t have to,” you remind. “I wasn’t asking, I was just—”

“I know, it’s fine,” Bucky insists.

“I can pay. It’s my food.”

“It’s just a meal.” He squints at you. “You never pass up a chance of food on me.” He presses the back of his palm against your forehead and leans in closer. “Are you feeling okay?”

You heat up beneath his touch, shaking him off with a scowl. “You make me sound awful. Fine. Buy me my food then.”

Bucky raises his hands in surrender, wallet between his index and middle finger rising with his shoulders. “I will.” He squeezes your shoulder before he walks away, dipping down to your ear to whisper, “And you’re not awful.”

You huff, pinching your lips together as you watch him get in line, nudging his fingers into his wallet to take out money.

Arbitrarily, you’re annoyed. Bucky Barnes is infuriating, with his long charcoal lashes and lilting chuckle and nonchalance in giving things you want without your asking.

Your laptop screen darkens with your lack of attention, and you’re left staring at yourself, scrutinizing the thin lines around your eyes as you squint. You’re being ridiculous; you can’t be angry over Bucky being a sweet guy.

“They musta’ known you were coming,” Bucky whistles, balancing a bowl and a small bag already darkened with grease spots in his arms. You take the bowl from him, warmth seeping into your fingertips.

You furrow your brows at him when you pop the lid off, barely realizing you’d never told him what to get. “You got me cavatappi pasta,” you realize. You look upset.

“Yeah?”

Distressed, you snatch the bag from him, shoving your fingers inside to pull out two large chocolate chip cookies. “And chocolate chip cookies.” Your voice rises and falls with a slightly unhinged twinge, features pulling as you examine what Bucky got for you. Your comfort food; the token you’d never explained to him.

“Yeah. It’s what you always get. And I know you always want two cookies but only get one because you’re afraid you won’t finish it, but we can split it or you can save it, or—what are you doing?”

You sweep everything into your arms, holding the food tightly behind your books.

“I have to go.”

“What? We just got here.”

“I have an appointment.”

“For what?”

“For—things—it’s—” you huff. “I have to go.”

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride? I have my car back, you know,” Bucky offers, already beginning to get up, but you shake your head, his actions hitting something in your chest.

“I'll be fine, thanks for the…” you exhale sharply. “I'll see you later.”

You run off, ignoring his confused call of your name as you slam the door behind you.

Hot soup dribbles down your fingers as you speed walk back home, but you barely notice, struggling to remember why you’d rejected him before.

“I hate him,” you mumble, fully dishonest as you struggle with your keys. “I hate him so much.”

“Hate who?” Bruce asks from the table, sparing you a glance from his computer. His eyebrows join as he takes you in, every panting and crazed inch of you, mouth parting and head tilting. “Uh.”

“Bucky,” you reply, setting the a la carte box down hastily. You drop the cookies next to it.

Bruce stares at you.

You make a big gesture with your hands toward it, pursing your lips. “He bought me that. Just—insisted. He's so—” you sigh frustratedly. “I didn't even—he bought me cookies.”

“Okay.” It's long and hesitant. “And that’s bad because…” he begins to shake his head. “You don’t like cookies?”

Your shoulders drop.

“You hate cookies and pasta. You think they’re awful,” Bruce tries.

“No! I love soup and cavatappi and—he’s ruining everything! He's such an idiot!” you rub your face, nuzzling your nose into the crevice between your joined hands.

Bruce examines you for another second before: “Oh.”

“What?” you snap, meeting amused brown. “What?”

“Nothing,” Bruce muses, but his lips are set in a careful smile, amusement poorly hidden. “Just that you finally learned his name.”

His thoughts are pathetically obvious in his tone, lips in a thin line and eyes crinkled.

“Don’t,” you warn. “Bruce Banner—”

“I didn't say anything.”

“Do not think what you’re thinking,” you demand. “He’s a player and a distraction and—”

“Okay.” Bruce has never been one to argue, but his one word answer makes you more frustrated than anything else he could’ve said.

You puff and gather your food, striding to your room with a glare at your best friend. 

-

For the first time since you met Bucky, you follow through on an excuse to miss the game. It’s not a majorly important one—although Bucky pouts when you tell him either way, insisting that he needs you there for good luck—but you still feel a strange ache at the bottom of your stomach when the game begins and you’re too far away to cheer for him.

The edges of your lips are downturned, brows pinched as you stare at your phone before you realize what you’re doing and snap your attention away.

Scoffing, you shake away thoughts about soccer and the memory of Bucky's sweet blue eyes when he’d teased you, a strange tone of real sadness beneath his playful jests.

You pause, lifting your hands from your computer to eye the time once again. Furtively scanning the work you’re nearly done with, you allow yourself the distraction and grab your phone, fingers dancing in anticipation when your lock screen is littered with icons of messaging apps.

You click Bucky’s name first, smiling softly as you read a quickly typed summary of the game he probably sent after the first half was over. He sounds hopeful and excited, like he always does when he talks abouts soccer, but he signs off with a mispelled reminder that he misses you and a red heart. You check Wanda and Bruce's messages next, your face falling when you learn the second half hadn’t gone as well.

Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you glance at your work again and then at the clock, taking a quick breath before you force yourself to write a quick conclusion you promise yourself you’ll revise when you get home.

The game is over by the time you arrive, easily finding a parking spot in the midst of everyone’s departure. You hear disappointed grumbling as you make your way inside the stadium and cringe, striding toward the locker room.

Your name in Bruce’s voice makes you pause, turning to meet his pulled, bushy eyebrows and pinched lips. “What’re you doing here?”

“I finished early,” you explain. “And you said the game wasn’t going great so I thought I'd come and make sure the team’s okay.”

Bruce's features morph into something like realization and then into his poor poker face, lips pursed so tightly they’re edged white. “Right. The team.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, since it’s the whole team, I should let you know most of them are in the locker room moping, but Bucky wanted to leave early.” Bruce looks pointedly to the right.

“What? Why?”

Bruce shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe he said something about seeing you, but since you’re here for the team—”

“Shut up, Bruce.” You squint meanly at him, making him swallow a laugh as you spin around and continue on your path. 

You bump into Bucky when you turn a corner, familiar hands coming to rest on your arms distractedly before his eyes brighten in recognition. He says your name in surprise, shaking you gently as if to check that you’re real. His hair is damp from the quick shower he’d just taken, dark spots from water droplets around the collar of his gray shirt. He smells like soap and Bucky and it makes you a little dizzy.

“Hey, I heard about the game,” you say. “I wanted to check up on you.”

“Oh. I was just coming to see you. I told you that you were our lucky charm.” Bucky laughs but it’s not completely honest, his disappointment about the loss shining through.

You frown, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, you shove your hands into your coat pockets, pulling out a crinkled baggie in each one. “I brought you something.”

Bucky steps back, eyebrows furrowed as he notices what you’re holding. “Are those orange slices?”

Nervous now, you let your arms drop. “Yeah. I, uh—figured they’d maybe give you a boost and—” You cut yourself off, laughing awkwardly. “It was dumb.”

“My mom used to bring me orange slices after soccer practice,” Bucky mumbles.

You perk up. “Yeah. You told me about that and I thought maybe you’d like them.” The end of your sentence lilts like a question, answered by the quick movements of Bucky's fingers when he takes a baggie from you and pulls it open, taking a slice out to grin happily at it.

He dips his fingers in again and hands another to you, bumping his own small slice against yours. “Cheers.”

As soon as he bites into it, the juice from the fruit runs down his fingers, eyelids falling closed in a delighted hum. You barely realize the sap has streaked sticky orange down your arm, too.

He breathes out your name as he opens his eyes, a dazzling blue in the fluorescent lights of the locker room hall. “I forgot how…” He shakes his head, drifting off, and takes the other bag from you, pulling you to him. He sighs big and warm, rumbling through his chest.

You rub your nose against his sweatshirt, breathing in deeply. There's the fresh scent of citrus and then the lavender body wash you’d bought for him faint beneath his own distinct smell. He thanks you blithely, a lot lighter.

You shrug it off and force yourself to pull away, shivering at the loss even if you initiated it. “Do you want to get something to eat and watch that new episode of The Great British Bake-Off we missed last week?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, hand drifting down to pull yours along. His skin is sticky and sweet against yours, orange juice smearing on your palm, but you can’t find it in you to care.

-

You feel sick when you step outside; a sticky, prickly rush that coats your throat in sap. It’s cold enough to make goosebumps rise on your skin, dark enough for the stars to drown in ink. Any appetite you had disappears, replaced with something clammier and painful, a twisting anxiety as a result of a bad day and a completely avoidable situation.

The bags with your food bump warmly against your knee, plastic handles pulling against the skin of your wrist. If you stay as you are, there will be indents of them once you finally put the bag down. 

Something like dumb, chest-puffed stubbornness tugs incessantly at you when you contemplate calling Bruce to come pick you up, a biting voice snapping pathetic for even thinking about it convincing you to shut the door behind you, locking away the choice of warmth and safety and shame.

It’s very silent when you begin to walk, the crinkling of your bag loud and in tandem with your steps. You let it slide down and hook on your fingers, carefully aware of shadows that might peek out behind yours and off-space footsteps.

Lonely fingers curl in on themselves, missing the comforting frigidity of the keys you’d forgotten at home. Your dying phone vibrates in the tight grip of your hand, spurring your steps faster. A dark lump appears on your shadow’s shoulder, and you freeze, spinning around violently to face the street, empty behind you.

You turn back around hesitantly, breath trembling. You could’ve sworn you felt someone else behind you.

Eyes rounded and wet, you begin to walk again, feeling an uncomfortable heat in the space where your ribs meet. Your required cognizance turns frantic, making your fingers shake and oxygen difficult to get into your lungs. There’s an echo to your footsteps. When you blink, there’s the ghost of an unforgiving hand on the back of your neck, the sharp slam of your jaw against brick. You gasp when you open your eyes again, a hand flying to the aching skin of your neck as you spin.

Your eyes promise that there’s no threat lurking behind darkness, but your mind blares with an assurance that there is. Ducking behind a wall, you scramble for your phone, cheeks cold with air-slapped tears as you press the call button for the first contact your fingers find.

Bucky’s voice is confused and comforting when he answers.

“I think—I think someone is following me,” you whimper, pulling your legs to your chest. Your food warms the side of your thigh. 

“What? Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “I’m sorry, I should, it’s just—I was walking home from the restaurant and I heard something and I can’t concentrate, I can’t breathe—”

“Okay, it’s okay. Try to breathe, okay? Can you tell me what restaurant it was?”

You can picture the glowing sign, the faded wallpaper, the flowered curtains, but you can’t think, barrelling you deeper into panic. “I can’t remember—I—”

You can hear Bucky open his door. “Hey, it’s okay. Were you eating there or picking up to go?”

“To-go,” you answer tearfully, concentrating on the box pressing into your flesh.

“Okay. For you and Bruce or just you?”

“B-both of us.”

“You’re doing great, sweetheart. Try to take deep breaths, I think I—”

There’s a hollow click before it’s silent, the calm you’d been grasping at completely gone. “Bucky?” you plead. “Bucky?”

You pull your phone away from your ear, vision going blurry when you tap desperately at the screen and it doesn’t respond. Dead.

There’s a tremendous weight on your chest, your elbow knocking against the wall behind you with your attempts to draw in a breath. You shove your head in between your knees and try to remember Bucky’s voice, forget the cold fear that another clammy hand will reach for your hair and tug you up.

You need to get home. You can’t move.

You stifle your sobs with your leg, clawing at your shins and trying to think of anything else. You shove your hand in between your stomach and your legs, letting your phone fall to your thighs as the tips of your fingers reach the round hills of your collarbone. Your palm digs into your flesh until the beating of your heart pulses against your thumb, aching when you force it to stay put.

Thump, thump. “O-one,” you force, restraining your fingers from curling. Thump, thump. “Two.” A deep, shuddering breath that makes your mouth snap closed and your eyes flutter into darkness. Thump, thump. “Three…”

It’s how Bucky finds you, your nose deep between your knees, counting watery and muffled. He’s frantic when he sees you, panic like needles against his chest prickling to a pounding ache. He should be more cautious, stand still a few feet away for a few seconds, step slowly. If he were a little less in love, maybe he would; but he’s not, and the relief that you’re solid and no longer a tenuous voice on his phone is too much a relief.

He calls out your name and rushes forward, lowering himself down to his knees before he touches your arm. You flinch, shoving a strong hand against him, a horrible mix of anger and fear contorting your voice.

“It’s me. It’s Bucky.”

You still push yourself back against the wall, but your eyes finally meet his. “Bucky,” you test. “Bucky.”

It’s a silent, cold beat before you blink clearly, irises looking back a little less hazy. You murmur his name once more and promptly burst into tears, launching yourself into his chest. His arms wrap around you in tandem, pleasing the closeness your fisted fingers crave. He takes in your tears, steadily smoothing a hand over your back, desperation in the way he hooks his chin over the crown of your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks too soon.

You make a noise of which answer he can’t be sure of, so he gathers you up in his arms to push you away, only a little, only for a second to stare at you.

You grip at his shirt, cheeks shiny. And then, “I thought I was really gonna die this time.” Hearing your admittance causes a shift on your face, still crumpled and unready to deal with this. “Just for a second and—” Your lips twist to keep words back. 

Bucky pulls you back in.

“Will you take me home?”

His compliance is wordless and patient, hooking a finger through your takeout and grasping your hand with his free one, guiding you to his car. He helps you inside, setting the bag at your feet before he buckles your seatbelt and pushes strands of hair away from your sticky face.

Your breathing steadies while he drives, concentrating on the cool puffs of air hitting your collarbone, the lingering warmth from the food you’re suddenly starving for. But the wash of panic has left a shameful residue and a subsequent otiose apology on your tongue, making the once comforting silence expectant.

Your chest weighs when you finally spot your door, fighting to pull words from your mouth at the dimmed lights, but Bucky beats you to it, clearing his throat without unlocking the door. His left hand lays clothed on his lap, face stormed with uncertainty, but there’s a resolute edge that makes him look at you.

“I’m sorry,” you start, misunderstanding.

“Why?”

You aren’t sure, only certain of how guilty you feel. “For… bothering you. For making you comfort me. I’m sorry that you had to see me like that."

“Don’t apologize.” He clenches his jaw. “I don’t want you to…”

He shoves his sleeve up, taking a deep breath as he pinches the fingertips of the glove. “I know that wasn’t something you were ready to share with me. I understand, I…”

His gaze is heavy, flickering between your face and the fingers peeling away his glove. He swallows hard when it’s pulled off completely, looking away from the sight of his skin.

You can’t help the way your eyes track down his arm. It’s scarred with angry raised lines, ending at his fingertips and disappearing into his shirt sleeve. 

“I was in a fire once,” he says. “‘Got some scars too.”

“Is that why you wear—” You trail off at his nod. “Why are you… why are you telling me?” you ask, wincing at how the question sounds, but Bucky seems to understand what you mean.

He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he lies.

You blink at him, slipping a sure hand into his and squeezing. “Thank you.”

His eyes stay startled on your interlocked fingers, stubborn even beneath his gaze. He laughs hollowly then, squeezing back before he finally meets your eyes. “You, too.”

-

Your fingers are wound tightly around Wanda’s arm, the nails digging into her sweater giving away what your face is trying to hide. You’re zeroed in on Bucky's figure as he runs across green after blurry white.

The energy from the others who cheer in the stands makes you buzz, a rush of confidence urging you to jump to your feet when Bucky passes the ball to Pietro and then has it once again, close enough to the other team’s goal to make you clench a hand in anticipation.

With the flesh of your thumb between your teeth, you can’t help but lose your breath when it looks like Bucky's going to try to make it, only for it to be knocked out from your lungs when he crashes to the ground from the impact of another player.

Your mouth parts in a surprised o, tongue playing his name before you can stop it.

It's eerily silent in the stadium for a second as Bucky lies on the field, before it disappears into a fold of angry screams.

You’re not worried.

Bucky has never gotten hurt on the field before—”I’m too good,” he had promised you with an uneven grin, annoying in the way that he’s right—and the only times it’s seemed otherwise have been lies, a mere play he put on for the free kick. He had shaken his head disappointedly at you when you’d gotten worried, condemning you for not trusting him. He’s playful when he’s flustered.

So you’re not worried, because you know Bucky is fine.

Except he hasn’t moved in a little while too long and you don’t think it’s ever taken him this long to fake it. Although, maybe it feels longer because you can’t take your eyes off his figure.

You’re not worried.

Your fingers say otherwise, thumb tapping against your alternating fingers so frantically they get jumbled together, clumsily bumping into the crevices between them.

“Is he hurt?” Wanda asks.

“No,” you say automatically, stretching your fingers out like a starfish as if to rid evidence of your anxiety. “No, he’s fine.”

It's another moment that seems too long and the lines of Wanda’s worried face deepen, breaths a little faster. “He's not… he’s not getting up.”

“He’s fine,” you insist. “He has to milk it.” Glancing up at the timer, you nod definitively. “Yes, he has to milk it to get the penalty kick.”

“What?” Wanda asks, meeting your eyes in confusion.

“The hit didn’t seem that bad,” you lie unsteadily. “He has to milk it. He’s fine.”

Your panic escapes in the highs of your voice, something translucent hiding it when you clear your throat. He's still not getting up and it makes your breath comes out quickly. “He has to be,” you admit.

Wanda’s brows furrow, eyes searching your face once Bucky finally limps weakly to his feet, giving the ref a short nod. A sigh large enough to make you bend slips past your lips, caught in a relieved laugh as you gesture to him.

“I told you,” you tell her.

“He’s limping,” she points out.

“It’s fake,” you assure, fingers digging round shadows into your temples. “He’s doing his hero face, he’s completely fine.” It comes out more relieved than you thought it would.

He gets his penalty kick, makes it, of course, and it’s another few, a lot slower minutes before the game is over, but you’re making your way down thirty seconds before, too much attention on the game rather than your footing on the stairs.

You stumble over your feet, barely caring when the whistle blows to indicate the game is over, and turn in the direction of the hall to the locker room. Your anxiety nearly seems silly now, not as oppressive now that the soaked towel you’d been waterboarded with was dry. Yet, it still prickles at your fingertips, faint but enough to ache.

It's only a couple minutes before you can hear the pattering of feet, the stress that the outliers are Bucky, limping like he did on that field, nudging at your mind. The players wave at you, surprised, and your heart grows heavier and heavier with each passing team shirt that does not have “BARNES” on the back.

Then he’s there, completely fine and near the end of the line. He's grinning at the apparent win, letting Steve shove him proudly. His eyes widen in surprise when they catch sight of your own, saying something to his teammates without looking at them as he steps toward you.

“Hey, what’re you—”

Unable to help yourself, you throw your arms around his neck, the prickling disappearing the moment you touch him. He is hot and solid in your arms, but most importantly completely fine.

“Hey,” he coos, hugging you back.

You allow him a moment before you pull back abruptly and smack his arm.

“Ow!” he complains, grabbing your hand.

“You asshole! What’s up with the drama?”

“What, did I scare you?” Bucky teases, smirk dropping when your deadpan doesn’t glitter with playfulness. “Doll?”

“You took your sweet time getting back up,” you continue, ignoring his words. “You’ve never taken that long.” You’re alone in the hall now, eyes frenetic over his figure.

He softens then, chin pulling closer to his neck so his eyes can give you a reassuring smile. “Hey,” he says softly, tapping your wrist with his index, “‘m fine.”

“I know,” you contend, but it comes out a little relieved at hearing it in his voice. “I told Wanda that.”

His cheeks apple at your statement, amusement twinkling back in his eyes. “Of course. My girl knows I can't get hurt.”

You scoff at the term of endearment, nervous energy dissolving. “I'm not your girl.”

“Not yet!” he proclaims.

You wrinkle your nose, stepping away from him. “You stink. Go shower.” You pat his shoulder as a goodbye, beginning to head back out.

“Sure know how to charm a guy,” he mumbles, watching you walk away with a dopey smile.

-

You’re in your room, laying on your stomach with your computer in front of you and a drink Bucky had bought for you sitting on your bedside table.

He's sitting against your bed, scanning over a document. You should be doing something like it, but you can’t help but be distracted. He's quiet for once, features set in something not playful and not serious, a small knot between his brows indicating his concentration.

He looks pretty. You can’t be blamed.

If he notices your gaze, he’s kind enough to not point it out, although it’s unlikely. It’s undoubtedly heavy.

He’s staring down at his hand when he speaks up for what seems like the first time since hes arrived. His fingers dance nervously before he shoves them away from his view, edges of thick tissue peeking out as a bracelet on his wrist. “Do I make you uncomfortable when I flirt?”

You blink owlishly at him, unsure how to answer. He sounds so serious, guilty. “No.”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop.”

“I know you would. But it doesn’t. Is something wrong?”

Bucky cringes. “You don’t really flirt back. I just want to make sure it’s not because I make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t! I just… don’t really flirt. I don’t really think there’s a point if I’m not dating.”

“You don’t date?” He’s known this. To a point, which he thinks is not completely accurate now that he hears the way you say it.

“No.”

“Not even guys you like?”

“Especially guys I like, ” you clarify, cringing with the difficulty of putting so many feelings into so insignificant words. “Things get messy. It’s just… distractions and it’s never worth it.”

“You think love isn’t worth it? That it’s a distraction?”

You shoot him a look, huffing a little disappointedly, as if you’d expected him to understand something and he didn’t. “Why do people always twist my words into something so cynical?

I didn’t say that. Not love. I never said love, I just—it never ends well. It’s always something you pour so much into and get so little back.”

Bukcy shifts. “That’s not true. A relationship is fair, or at least, it’s supposed to be.”

“Ah, but see, ‘supposed to be’ and ‘is’ are two different things. I’d rather just skip the entire thing.”

Bucky frowns. “I don’t think you should.”

“You don’t think I should?”

“I don’t… I’m not telling you what to do, but I really think you should try. Love can be really great. And you deserve that.”

Your nails pinch at your fingers. “But what if it isn’t?”

“Then it isn’t.” You move to rebut, but Bucky continues. “But what if it is?”

You refuse to answer, chewing on your bottom lip.

Bucky gazes at you, waiting for a response before he realizes he won’t get one. He doesn’t push, turning back to his work.

“Why do you care so much?” you ask.

He sucks in a breath before admitting, “Mainly because I think you would really enjoy being loved. And very partially because I’m selfish.”

You hum. “You’re a really good guy, Bucky.”

“I try.”

You scowl lightly. “Incorrigible. Annoying. But really good.”

Bucky laughs. “Don’t forget—what was it you said about me? Charming? Sweet? Hand-to-heart hilarious?”

You launch a pillow at his head. “Nuisance is what I should’ve said.”

“Mm, a little contradictory but what’s life without some juxtaposition? Maybe I’m a man of many talents.”

The tip of your index finger shoves into his arm.

You fall into a peaceful silence once again when the laughter dissolves, your fingers busy away at your keyboard. There's a moment where you’re thinking, staring intently just past your computer and Bucky is staring at you, a thoughtful expression on his face, stony and all.

“Will you?”

It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to you. “Will I what?”

“Give it a chance.”

You want a moment to ponder it, because you know the right answer but you aren’t sure if you want to pick it. “Give what a chance?” you play dumb, but he doesn’t buy it.

You look to your side, unfocused eyes lazy on an ugly painting.

“Yeah, maybe.” You want to tell him it depends who it is, that you have very strict rules mentioning annoying brunets with blue eyes who walk you home from the library and never shut up, but you don’t, eyes travelling back to him slowly. His silence when they finally meet his own tell you he knows anyway.

Quickly looking back down, you avoid his gaze and continue to work.

-

You melt into his side, delightfully prickling when you lean in a little closer to take a sip of your drink. Eyes shimmering in the lame lights of the bar, you’ve never looked so openly bright, hardly containing your delight and everything you can spilling past anyway.

There are enough people in the place for it to feel rightfully uncomfortable, sweat-sticky skin bumping into the arm he has around your chair and making the heat rise, but Bucky can’t seem to notice.

It would feel plain ignorant to do so—to not focus completely on the stitched pride in the dips of your smile or the warmth of your palms as they splay flat on his arm.

It’s not enough to just have your fingers tug at him during conversations with strangers, he feels he should imprint the feeling of your touch like a branding.

You say his name in conversation, cruelly dragging your hand down to bracelet around his wrist and squeezing. You make a little shimmy with your shoulders that can’t help but make him laugh. He zeroes in on your lips, trying to make sense of what you’re saying.

You’re cute. You’re too sweet to be in this stuffy bar with him.

You turn to him brightly in the midst of another exclamation and he feels himself transported.

He can feel the end buzzer vibrating up to his fingertips, the breeze on the heat of his skin when he’d looked up, eyes searching for you like a habit. 

Your features are shrunken into the memory, suddenly far away but still pulled into the biggest beam you could muster, hands clapping ecstatically.

“Bucky,” memory-you says liltingly, too clearly.

When he blinks, he’s back in the present, the tip of your index dimpling his bicep, your face close enough for him to count each individual eyelash. He grins without really thinking about it. “Bucky,” you repeat, a little harsher but still teasing.

“Yeah?” he responds finally.

“We’re complimenting you and you aren’t paying attention? Are you feeling okay?” you frown, lips downturned but the edges of your eyes still crinkled with happy lines. The back of your hand meets his forehead.

“Fantastic,” he says, his left hand vining up to hook around your fingers and lay them on his lap. “Just won a game, didn’t you hear? All by myself, too.”

You shake your head at him, turning back to who Bucky realizes is one of your friends. Carol, you’d said.

“See?” You say accusatorily. 

Carol grins. “Yeah. Kind of hard not to when you describe it so thoroughly.”

That catches Bucky’s fluttering attention, an eyebrow shooting up questioningly in your direction. Your lips part in betrayal at Carol, and you begin to take your hand back from Bucky, but he hooks your wrist before you can. 

“I think Maria is calling you,” you tell her. “You should go see what that’s about.”

“Now, now,” Bucky starts. “Actually, I think I want to know how thoroughly you talk about me, sweeheart.”

“That's my cue,” Carol laughs, dipping a beer at you both. “I'll see you guys later. Congrats on the game.”

She bounces to her feet and takes off, leaving the two of you alone. Bucky nudges a finger in between your ribs, making you jump and swat at him. “Hey!”

“You talk about me to your friends?”

You stare at him, bottom lip pushing out defensively in your tipsiness. “Well, the star football player is one of my best friends, shouldn’t I be allowed to brag?”

“Best friend, huh? Bruce gonna be jealous?”

You wave him off, making a small, stubborn sound. “He ought to get over it with how much he ditches me.”

“See, I would never.” Bucky presses his free hand to his heart in oath. “Star football players are very reliable. Scoring goals, keeping plans, etcetera.”

You grin at the reminder, something sparkling beneath your skin like static, jolting your fingers when it begins to brim. You splay an excited palm on his shoulder out of pure excitement, seeming to relive the night.

“I am so proud of you,” you say. Saccharine, words stout with a smile and pride. “You did so well today.”

You’re startlingly genuine, entirely proud. Bucky can’t bring himself to tease or flirt.

“Thank you.”

You smile prettily, the light in your irises shifting at his authenticity. “I am,” you insist.

You just want to tell him, for him to hear you and understand how much you mean it. Your pupils flicker to a spot above his shoulder, distant for a second as your face brightens more. You laugh disbelievingly.

“I don't know all that much about football but from what I do, you’re certifiably extraordinary.” You sound out the word, unwilling to mess it up when you mean it so much. You try again. “You made a really great play.”

“Impossible,” Bucky corrects completely unsubtly, but it’s soft, blurred by yellow light from above and buzz from you.

You observe him for a second. “I think you’re amazing,” you say thoughtfully, not in an effort to compliment but in a sort of realization. “What… type of person…” you start but don’t continue, tongue unable to keep up with everything running through your mind. The walks home, the paid lunches, the attention, the ability. 

You inhale sharply, as if realizing you’re drifting off and trying to pull yourself back in.

Bucky knows what you expect—what he expects of himself—but he can’t bring himself to tease you, reiterate your words with an artful curve of his lips. He can’t concentrate enough to ignore the prickly warmth at the bottom of his stomach. He glances down at his watch.

“Should we go?” he says instead, casual but urgent. “It's late.”

He stands before you can process his offer, still a little drunk from stolen sips but only enough to make contrasts lighter. You blink up at him from your seat for a second before nodding, two short, stressed lines between your brows. He shouldn’t have been so abrupt.

Kinder, he helps you from your seat and guides you toward the door, keeping you away from stray elbows with benevolent redirection.

Your breath curls visibly in the air when you step outside, white and dissolving until it is replaced by another, longer exhale. You wrap your arms around your torso.

“C'mon,” he urges, guiding you to his car. “Let’s get you warm.”

“Should you be driving?” you ask as he searches his pockets for the keys, standing at the car door, watching him. “And what about the others?”

“Didn’t drink,” he answers, patting his coat pockets until he finds what he’s looking for.

You frown, slowly running through the night and realizing he’s right, recalling the sparkling water dripping moisture next to his jacket sleeve. The cold and the ennui knock a lot into focus.

He clicks open the car. “And this’ll force ‘em to call an uber. Worst comes to worst, I’ll drop by later to force them home. I just want to get you home first. No drunk footballers to puke on your feet.”

He rounds around to meet you, opening the door, and waiting patiently.

“Why didn’t you drink?” you ask. You’ve seen him drink before, tipsy in that breezy way where he’s a little flirtier with a little less filter. “You won a game. If you ever deserved it, it’s now.”

“I had to be able to drive you back.” He shrugs, cocking his head in the direction of the open car door. “Speak of the devil,” he starts pointedly, reminding you of your frigidity.

Still contemplating, you climb inside with furrowed brows, following Bucky's figure as he shuts your door, jogs back to his side, and settles into the driver’s seat. Rubbing his hands together, he turns to look at you. 

“You okay?” he asks.

“Uh huh.”

He clicks his tongue. “Look at that. I think you’re a little drunker than I thought.”

“I am not,” you argue, looking down at yourself and seeing nothing wrong until Bucky reaches over to pull your seatbelt over you. “Oh.”

Bucky breathes out a little laugh, amused.

“I'm just…” You contemplate for a second, sinking into the rumbling of the engine when Bucky turns the car on. Immediately, heat slaps your nose. The glass meets your temple bitingly, jolting your sentence back on track. You turn to see Bucky's attention already on you. “Happy.”

“You’re happy?” Bucky repeats pleasantly, shifting the gear into drive.

“Yes. It was a good day today.” 

You feel clearer now, the edges of reality crisper as you look out the window. “I know I already said it, but I'm really proud, Bucky. You win games and ace tests and don’t celebrate with a drink to drive me home. You’re kind of great.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, glancing at you.

You hum an affirmation, inhaling deeply. At some point, Your few-sip buzz dissipated into something different.

Sober, but influenced on the darkness of the sky and the roundness of the moon. It feels safe suddenly, a rush of energy jolting you straight. You stare at Bucky's profile. “Yeah,” you confirm clearly. “It's kind of disappointing, you know.”

Bucky is caught off guard, sparing you a look when he stops at a stoplight. “What?”

“I just thought you’d be different.”

“How?” His brows are furrowed.

You take a moment to ponder. “Not so… you. More of the unforgivably arrogant and ignorant jock variety.”

“So you were expecting me to be one of those cartoon stereotypes?” he teases, looking back at the road with an easier smile.

“Kind of,” you laugh. “But you’re not and that’s really great.”

The red light from outside drapes over his features, pulled as he searches the crevices of your face. In response, it slackens slowly, from thoughtful to a little dazed as you stare back. Without meaning to, you’re leaning in at the same time he is.

His skin flips green.

You fall away from him with a surprised exhale, blinking in confusion.

It takes a second for Bucky to look away after you have, and you consider yourself lucky there’s no one else on the road during the long moment it takes for his attention to switch back to driving.

He doesn’t want to just forget what happened. He doesn’t want to move on from this yet. “What does that mean?” he asks, your compliment playing on repeat in his mind.

You stay silent, trying to figure it out yourself. “I don't… I don’t know.”

He tries to remain unbothered, glancing at you once more to catch your focus unmovingly on him. He pulls into your driveway and turns off the car.

“What about going on a date with me?” he requests, a little more serious that usual but glazed in his usual tone. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he continues.  “I'll dress up in that shade of blue you think I look so good in and we’ll go out to eat at that little hole-in-the-wall restaurant I'm still impressed you found. You’ll order that same thing you always do, and we can talk about that novel you’re reading—”

He doesn’t wait for the answer you’ve given before, stepping out of the car and striding over to your side.

You gaze up at him when he opens your door, your buckle unclasped in your hand. He's kind as he always is as he helps you out, hands settling on your shoulders to steady you when you nearly trip over a ridge in the sidewalk.

“Or… or we could go take a walk around the park. Or go to the movies, or the amusement park, or do laundry or taxes or—anything as long as it’s with you.”

And maybe it’s the easy smile, with the glitter of gold pride still sewn into his lips, or the genuine kindness he’s never failed to show you under the mask of the moon. Maybe it’s the proximity. Maybe you just can’t help yourself anymore. You kiss him.

He’s frozen for a solid moment, thick enough for you to start doubting yourself, beginning to pull away when he finally reacts, practically melting into you as his hands frantically pull you closer.

He pulls away hesitantly, torturously, a second later, eyes scrutinizing. “Wait, wait, wait, are you drunk?”

You shake your head, laughing gently at the thumb that pulls gently at the skin beneath your eye to make sure, urgently tugging you back into the kiss when he’s satisfied.

“‘Had to make sure,” he mumbles against your lips. “This can’t happen when you aren’t you.”

“It’s me,” you promise, pulling back. Before you can delve into your mind too deeply, you nod suddenly. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah, okay what?” he repeats, chasing after you to kiss you a few more times.

“I'll go out with you.”

His smile drops, fingers tightening around your hips. “Wait, really?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You grasp his arms tightly. “I should at least try, right?”ey

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes ff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader idiots in love #bucky barnes x reader mutual pining #bucky barnes x reader fluffy #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes college au #college!bucky barnes #college!bucky barnes x reader #best friend!bucky barnes x reader #best friend!bucky barnes #best friend!bucky #best friends to lovers #bucky barnes best friends to lovers #bucky barnes x reader best friends to lovers #friends to lovers #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes request

[buckrecs]

Hi!! Was wondering if you had recs for Bucky and reader fake dating??

Fake Dating / Marriage

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Keeping Score by @all1e23

After hearing you begging Steve to pretend to be your fake boyfriend to keep your family off your back, Bucky quickly jumps at the chance to play your boyfriend even though you’re a hundred percent sure he hates you. What could possibly go wrong?

the right partner by @bucky-bucket-barnes

You and Bucky have always possessed a complicated history, and even more strained relationship with one another. Begrudgingly, you're sent out on a mission with Barnes where you two are posing as a newly wed couple. In an effort to investigate the consistent disappearance of young women in a certain neighborhood, you find yourselves forced to confront a whirlwind of emotions.

Suburbia by @wkemeup

Posing as husband and wife, you and Bucky infiltrate a quaint suburban neighborhood in search of a Hydra hacker. Perhaps if you weren’t so in love with him and he hadn’t broken your heart, the act of pretending wouldn’t hurt so much.

where do we go from here by @barnesafterglow

when you agree to be bucky's date for his sister's wedding - and his fake girlfriend for the weekend - you're expecting a good time with your best friend. but things may never go back to normal

Fake It Till You Make It by @buckyalpine

Fake dating solves everything… right?

A Little Longer by @buckyalpine

It’s just a little lie.

Crossing The Line by @jadedvibes

After your friends set you up on a blind date with your sworn enemy, you both drunkenly decide to mess with them by making a bet to see who can pretend to be a happy couple the longest.

annoying neighbors and fake boyfriends | 2 by @lovelybarnes

“You stayed over at my place one night but my nosy, annoying neighbour saw you leave. They always get on my case about being single so I told them that we’re dating to show them”

Undercover by @buckysknifecollection

You and Bucky go on an undercover mission, where you need to pretend to be married. You are close to solving the case when Bucky decides he’s done pretending.

Make Believe on Christmas Eve by @green-eyeddragonfanfiction

When your family insists you bring your [nonexistent] long-term boyfriend over for Christmas, you panic. You hadn’t expected to be put in this situation; you never thought you’d actually have to bring “him” over.

Stop flirting with the staff by @writingsoftheloser

You and Bucky go undercover to stop the sale of a very important device.

The Karen’s of the World by @espinosaurusrexex

Aunt Karen is possibly the worst person you know. So when her annual Independence Day party arrives, you try to give her as little reason to pick on you as possible. Not being single for once should cover most of the topics she complains about. So you ask your friend Bucky to play pretend.

Tis the damn season by @starrysebastians

On the first post-blip Thanksgiving, you find yourself having to reunite with your parents and your heart is not in it — Sam persuades you to take Bucky with you, and this might be an opportunity for you two to get to know each other.

SERIES

The Holiday Hack by @gogolucky13

You ask Bucky to be your stand-in boyfriend for your family’s Christmas party.

Breaking The Rules by @redgillan

You hate James Barnes with a burning passion and the feeling is entirely mutual. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, you are tricked into attending his sister’s wedding as his girlfriend. Stuck with a bunch of strangers, you come up with a set of rules that are not going to last long.

Best Boyfriend You’ve Ever Had by @language-rxgers

When you find out your sister is getting married and expects you to bring a date to her wedding in two months, you panic, having not gone on so much as a coffee date with a guy in far too long. After all, being an Avenger doesn’t leave too much time for a life outside of work. So, when your best friend, none other than the James Buchanan Barnes himself, offers to pretend to be your boyfriend and plus one, how can you refuse? It seems like something that would come out of a movie. However, real life is never like the movies, and stories like this never go as planned.

Stepping Up by @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend

When Steve can’t go with you to your cousin’s wedding, he sends Bucky in his place. What happens when more than one person assume you’re dating? 

Picture Perfect by @writingsoftheloser

When Steve asks his collegue to be his fake girlfriend, she accepts, thinking nothing could really go wrong. Then, she meets Steve’s best friend.

-> this is not bucky and reader fake dating but it’s one of my favorite fics so I included it!

Worst Idea Ever by @firefly-in-darkness

Wedding Season is brutal as it is but throw in two friends that decide to be each other’s plus ones and a mixed bag of feelings, what's the worst that could happen?

Heart to a Gunfight by @lailannajacobs

You didn’t want to help Bucky Barnes make it through the party by pretending to be his fake girlfriend, after all, you had just met him. You also didn’t plan on the charade lasting as long as it did. 

am i more than you bargained for? by @morsmordre-writes

Bucky has an unwanted secret admirer, so naturally you pretend to be his girlfriend until it blows over. Will someone catch feelings? Will they be absolute idiots about it all? Will they live happily ever after? We may never know.

Almost Had Me Believing It by @tuiccim

An undercover operation playing Bucky Barnes' wife is a dream come true. Playing house in the suburbs while trying to take down a drug ring brings you and Bucky closer but a nosy neighbor causes trouble in paradise.

A Certain Romance by @wienerbarnes

With the threat of yet another bad date at the result of Sam Wilson’s meddling, Bucky’s desperate to find a solution. As are you, another victim to Sam’s failed matchmaking. The two of you come up with a genius plan: pretend to date each other in order to escape the poking and prying nose of the Falcon.

The Proposal by @toomanyrobins2

Y/N Arnaud is the liaison to the Avengers, but she’s also a French citizen. After a couple mistakes, her visa application is denied. Even though they can’t stand each other, Bucky offers to marry her in order to keep her visa status in the U.S. and avoid deportation.

Follow My Lead by @ciarawritesmarvel

You and your new friend Wanda are enjoying a day together at the Avengers Tower, her giving you a tour around the place when you both run into the infamous Bucky Barnes. Moments later, he’s introducing you to Sam as his girlfriend and placing a kiss on your temple and you’re not sure you’ve ever been so confused in your life.

Where Dreams Go To Die by @insomniumstella

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes fake dating #fake dating #bucky barnes fake marriage #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #neighbor!bucky #bucky barnes college au #bucky barnes modern au #best friend!bucky

[lostgirlmuseum]

🐳Chapter 3

Mini Series Masterlist ❤️

Summary: Bucky and Miles fight for your attention takes a turn for the worse. You can't put up with this anymore.

Pairing: BestFriend!Bucky x f!Reader

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: Honestly probably pacing problems 😭, Miles being awful and saying disgusting things, less funnies in this one, things get a bit tense

A/N: p.s. the moment in the bathroom and the bonfire is what inspired this entire thing lol. I don't have a taglist, but you can follow updates at @lostgirl-library instead

(Divider credit: @firefly-graphics)

DAY 3 - SUNDAY 🏄🏻

Bucky was compelled into the kitchen by the smell of bacon. Vision was standing by the stove in a “Kiss the Synthezoid” apron, and Wanda was standing just behind him in a “Kiss the Witch” apron, watching over the cooking process. You were sitting at the barstool cradling a mug in both hands. Bucky took the seat next to you and nudged you good morning. You smiled back at him. It appeared they had just been talking about Wanda and Vision's early night departure tonight to make it back home in time for a friends birthday.

“Good Morning, Bucky,” Vision greeted at the same time Wanda threw a small wave.

“Mornin,” He yawned. 

“Nice to see you up. Bacon?” The red-head asked, gesturing to the pan.

“If you have enough, I wouldn’t mind some, thanks.”

“How is Miles feeling?” Vision asked over his shoulder to you as Wanda started plating the bacon.

“He’s feeling a lot better. He’s just resting right now.” You nodded, bringing the warm drink to your lips.

“That’s good.” 

“Yeah, poor guy,” you continued, wiping your upper lip, “the rain last night wasn’t helping either, but I think he eventually fell asleep around 2 A.M.”

Wanda gave you a sympathetic smile and handed Bucky a plate of bacon.

“Do you think he’ll be feeling well enough to go out to dinner tonight? I was talking to Vis and we were thinking about making reservations at a fancy restaurant for all of us, just a couple miles away.”

“That sounds like fun! I’m sure he’ll be back to normal by then.”

“Seeing as tonight will be our last night here, are we going to have a bonfire and participate in s’mores?” Vision asked.

“Can you believe Vis has never made a s’more before?” Wanda looked at Vision amazed.

“Well, I have no use for food.” He shrugged.

“Fair enough.”

“Bonfire on the beach, what could be better?” You piped, lightly punching Bucky’s arm in excitement.

“Not much.” He conceded.

Bucky could smell the trouble before he saw it. This morning was too peaceful, of course Miles had to ruin it by joining.

“Miles, good morning,” you smiled. 

That’s not your real smile, Bucky thought. Shut up. I’m just reading into things.

After a short chorus of “good mornings” to which Bucky contributed a grunt—what? That’s honestly the best he could do, especially so early in the day—Miles leaned over your shoulder and gave you a chaste kiss. 

“Have you brushed your teeth yet this morning?” You grimaced.

“No,” Miles smirked, leaning in for another kiss.

You dodged it, saying, “Your breath stinks,”

“Babe,” Miles groaned.

Bucky didn’t want to see anymore. He took his plate and silently left the room. He didn’t see you staring after him. 

The rest of the day was calm. Bucky had spent a good deal of it walking up and down the beach, shuffling his feet in the sand, and inspecting something every so often. Miles had mostly continued to take it easy, you napped and hung out in the hammock on the porch, and Wanda and Vision took a trip to visit the hotel and take advantage of the pools and lazy river. 

Eventually, dinner time rolled around, and the group got dressed and left for their early reservation at “Gilded Reef,” the most recommended restaurant in town, according to Wanda.

It was hard for Bucky not to stare at you in your gorgeous white lace halter dress. He found himself glued to the single pearl that sat on a string across your neck, wondering if it was real.

Wanda also looked beautiful in her teal dress next to Vision who sported a similar teal suit. 

You convinced Bucky to bring a nice outfit in case the occasion arose, and he was glad he listened, unlike Miles. Because while Bucky was looking dashing in his slacks and white dress shirt, Miles looked out of place with his palm tree and flamingo themed Hawaiian shirt. To Miles’ credit, he did put in the effort of gelling his hair back, but it really made him look like more of a douche.

Idiot. 

The five of you were placed at a circular table and given menus.

After the drinks arrived, and the food was ordered, there came a lull in the conversation. Miles, of course, took the opportunity to try and embarrass Bucky.

“I saw you walking around the beach by yourself for a long while today. What were you doing?”

“It’s nothing really,” Bucky shrugged, reaching into his front pocket, “I was just looking for one of these.”

Bucky pulled out a small disk and held it out for everyone to see.

“Oh my God, Bucky, you found a sand dollar? And it’s fully intact!” You gasped, grabbing Bucky’s hand and bringing it to you for a closer look.

Wanda made a couple of her own noises of admiration while swirling her wine.

“Cool, right?” Bucky said, trying to contain his smile at your reaction.

“The coolest! Look Miles,” you pointed to Bucky’s hand. 

“Yes, very neat.” He grit. 

“I��ll hold onto it for now, but when we get back we can add it to your collection.” Bucky suggested, sliding it carefully back into his pocket. 

Your jaw dropped. 

“You’re letting me keep it?” 

“Of course,” 

How could I not give it to you? I would give you anything, do anything, just to see you light up again.

Dinner was filled with great food and fun stories, but eventually it got late enough that the group knew they should be getting back. Wanda had tricked everyone into letting her pay the check, Miles told everyone he’d be right back, and Bucky went to wash his hands before leaving.

But as Bucky made his way to the restroom, he noticed a familiar Hawaiian shirt flirting with a waitress.

Motherfucker.

Bucky didn’t say anything as he ‘accidentally’ bumped into Miles while sliding past him.

He didn’t bother to look back for his reaction, and continued his way to the men’s restroom. 

Bucky had just turned the faucet on when the door opened.

“Hey, bud,” Miles smirked.

Bucky kept quiet, and focused on washing his hands.

“That girl was cute, huh?” 

Miles made his way behind Bucky, and stared at him through the glass.

Bucky grunted.

“You should’ve seen her ass,”

Bucky looked up and glared at Miles through the mirror so hard he felt the start of a headache.

“You know I’m not intimidated by you, right?” Miles snickered.

Bucky grabbed the paper towel and dried his hands. 

“You know what, Miles?” He started, calmly throwing the paper in the trash can. He finally turned to face him, and casually rested on the marble counter of the sink.

“Humor me.” He rolled his eyes.

“You act so smug, thinking you’ve won. You get off on thinking you’ve bested me. Because you got the girl.” Bucky stood up straighter and crossed his arms, speaking with an even tone. “But there’s one thing you just don’t know.”

“And what’s that, Barnes?” Miles asked, and mirrored Bucky’s crossed arms.

“You might be her boyfriend, but she loves me in ways she will never love you.” Bucky let it linger in the air a moment before continuing. 

“She loves me in the only way that matters. Because when she finds a new book she likes, she calls me. She tells me of how it reminds her of me, or summer, or childhood. And when she’s struggling, and she needs someone to pull her out of the darkness, she calls me, not you. I’m the one who talks her down, holds her close, and reminds her of how powerful she is. And when she’s bored out of her mind, even if you’re around, she calls me.”

Bucky took a calculated step forward. Miles took two steps back.

“I’m the one who knows all of her secrets, who held her when she couldn’t breathe, who was there for her, and still is there for her when she needs me. So I promise you, when you inevitably fuck things up with her,” Bucky continued stepping closer, “because trust me, you will fuck up, she’ll call me.” 

Miles bumped into the wall. He had run out of space to back up, and Bucky was now inches away from his face, towering over him, caging him like the animal he was.

“And I’ll be the one comforting her, kissing the tears away, and telling her everything will be alright. Not you.” Bucky took Miles' silence as an invitation to go on. “You’re right, Sweets,” Bucky started, acting as if he was conversing with you, “Miles is an asshole. He’s a fucking idiot for treating you that way, because no sane person would even flirt with the idea of losing you.”

“Shut up,” Miles wobbled, finally gaining an ounce of confidence after Bucky had already turned for the exit. 

Bucky stopped in his tracks and turned back around. 

“They say there is no such thing as perfect,” Bucky shook his head, “but I swear to any and every god listening, she is as fucking close to perfect as there is. That’s why I’m not worried about you, Miles. I’m worried about what you’ll do to her.”

And with that, Bucky left the room.

The drive home was quick. The sun was only half-way down by the time Wanda got the bonfire started. Five logs were set up around the fire in a circle, all of them taken except one. You were still inside grabbing the s’mores materials. Between Bucky and Miles sat an empty log, your seat, and across from yours was Wanda and Vision. Bucky saw you step off of the back porch and stood up to meet you halfway. 

“Hey—” You started, but squealed when Bucky picked you up, and swung you over his left shoulder. “Bucky, what are you doing?” You laughed, trying not to drop the marshmallows. 

“You’re taking too long,” he joked, and started carrying you over to your seat. He made sure to watch for Miles' reaction. He was satisfied with the tick in Miles’ jaw.

“S’mores time!” You cheered once Bucky put you down on your seat. You started handing out the sticks and marshmallows. Everyone gathered in close and held their sticks over the fire. Except for Vision, he claimed he didn’t trust the marshmallow to not get stuck in a gear, or something.

“Damnit,” you cursed, after you dropped your nearly complete s’more in the sand, chocolate and everything.

“Here,” both Bucky and Miles said at the same time, handing you theirs.

“That’s okay, I can just make another one,”

“I’ll make another one, you can go ahead and have mine,” Bucky offered. 

“No, babe, you can take mine,” Miles insisted, practically shoving it into your hands.

“Oh—okay, thank you,” you stuttered.

Bucky held back a scowl.

“Y/N,” Wanda spoke, pausing to lick off some chocolate that stuck to her lips, “what was that story you were trying to tell me about earlier?”

“Oh yeah!” You glowed. “So when I was a teenager, and I was working at this grocery store, there was this one time I was in charge of cleaning the bathrooms, and that included the mens. While I was cleaning one of the toilets, I saw something move, and I freaked out. It was a freaking lizard in the toilet!”

“Oh yeah, and then you found that it had laid eggs in the urinals,” Miles quickly added, and laughed. 

“I was getting there,” you briefly pouted. 

What kind of game are you playing Miles? You think you know her stories more than me? I know these too.

“Okay, fine, new story.” You took another bite of your s’more. “One time, I was behind the register, and this older woman skipped the line behind the cashier counter and came right up to me wearing this heavy wool sweater with a christmas tree on it. Keep in mind, this is the middle of June. She turns around at the line of people behind her, shushes them when they start complaining, and turns back to me with a worried look on her face. So then this woman tells me that her—”

“That her credit card had been stolen on her way into the store—” Bucky jumped in.

“No,” you shook your head, “it was actually a man who had his card stolen, and this is a different story—” 

“Yeah, the one where the woman told you that she worked for the Illuminati as an undercover banker—” Miles interrupted.

“Wrong, I’m talking about when—”

“When a woman came up to you and challenged you to a thumb war for free groceries,” Bucky said.

“No, I—”

“The one where the woman walked behind the counter and started chanting that pumpkin spice lattes should be all season!” Bucky and Miles chanted in almost perfect synchronization.

“No, that’s a different story. Jeez, can’t a girl tell a story around here?” You awkwardly laughed.

“Sorry, go on.” Bucky apologized. 

“Anyways, so this woman tells me that she’s concerned because she’s noticed that her son—”

Miles jumped up in excitement and interrupted you.

“Because her son goes to the store everyday for hours, and she was concerned he was a part of some druggy group, but it turned out that her son was your manager Pat, and that’s how you confirmed Pat was still living with his mom, and that he lied about being uber-successful and owning his own party boat and mansion!” 

Everyone went silent.

“Way to ruin the story, Miles.” You sighed.

Wanda and Vision shared a look between each other.

“I’m getting drinks, anyone want anything?” You stood and tried to brush the sand off your legs with your dejection.

“We’re okay,” Wanda nodded, referencing herself and Vision.

“No thanks,” Miles said.

Bucky didn’t say anything.

“Okay.” 

You made your way inside, and Bucky aptly followed.

“I’m sorry Miles is being an ass.” Bucky left the back door cracked and followed you to the refrigerator.

“You kind of are too. What’s up with everyone tonight? I feel like I can’t finish a thought without being interrupted.” You grabbed a beer and shut the fridge door.

Bucky relented.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“No,” you sighed, and shook your head, “don’t apologize Bucky. I’m sorry I called you an ass, you aren’t. I’m just frustrated.” 

Miles entered the kitchen and shut the door behind him.

“Babe, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” You gave a weak smile, and grabbed the bottle opener.

“Here, I can help you open that.” Miles gestured.

“It’s fine, I got it.” You said.

“No, really, I got this. I’m really good at it,” Miles started reaching for the bottle.

“I can open my own damn beer,” you slammed your fist on the counter.

“Okay, okay.” Miles held his hands up in defense and backed off a little.

“Ugh,” you groaned, dragging your hands across your face, “I’m going to go take a shower.”

Miles perked up.

“Gimme a minute and I’ll join–-”

“Alone. I’m taking a shower alone.” You emphasized. 

You left the beer on the counter and trudged out. Miles turned to see Bucky staring right back at him.

“What are you looking at, dick?” 

“Nothing.” Bucky shrugged. 

“Wipe that smirk off your face or I’ll fucking do it myself.” 

“No you won’t.”

“That’s it, I’ve had enough of you.” Miles put his fists up. “Hit me. C’mon, hit me. I dare you.” 

“You dare me? What are you, twelve?”

“Just hit me.”

“I’m not going to hit you.” Bucky stated calmly.

“Scared?”

“Me? Scared of you? Have you seen yourself? You’re as strong as you are good at keeping your girlfriend happy, which in case you haven’t noticed, you’re pretty shit at.”

“You fucking—” Miles started running and very quickly reached Bucky, but Bucky was faster. He dodged out of the way, leaving Miles nearly tripping onto the floor.

“Watch it,” Bucky warned, but Miles was already up again, and headed for him.

Miles swung at him, but Bucky caught the punch and sent Miles stumbling back.

“Miles! Miles, stop! Bucky!” Your voice called, and Bucky swung his head to locate you, giving Miles just enough time to land a hit on Bucky’s left eye.

“What the actual hell!” You screamed, running to stand in between them.

You pushed on Miles' chest to get him to back away from Bucky. Miles was struggling to contain his anger as you pushed him back, his chest heaving with leftover adrenaline. 

“What happened? I heard yelling,” Wanda panted, bursting into the room, Vision trailing behind her.

“Wanda, please stay with Miles to cool off,” you begged, still using your body to keep Miles from attacking again.

Wanda nodded, and took your place. 

“Bucky, outside. Now.” You pointed to the back door.

He knew better than to question you. 

Fuck. She’s really mad.

Bucky obeyed, and closed the door behind him. He followed the wooden porch to the stairs, and sat on the last step, digging his feet into the cool sand. Wanda and Vision had put out the fire, great billowing smoke greeting the starry sky. He liked the quiet out there. The waves softly meeting the shore was a lullaby for him.

The creak of a door alerted him to your presence. You sighed, and sat down right next to him with an ice pack in hand.

Neither of you said a word as you gently brought the pack to just above his left eye. Luckily, Miles was off by enough that Bucky’s eye was safe, just not the area around his eyebrow.

After a couple moments of quiet, you spoke.

“You’re not in the clear either, you know that?” Your voice was soft, despite the words.

Bucky nodded.

“There is no good excuse for him attacking you,” You started, and made sure Bucky was hearing you, “however, I know Miles, and I also know you. And I don't know what you did, or said, but I know you did something to antagonize him.”

He mumbled something. You didn’t bother asking him what it was.

“Look at me,” you begged. 

He did. You carefully removed the ice pack and he winced. 

You looked straight into his eyes, your brows slightly furrowed, your lips slightly down turned. He couldn’t look away, waiting with bated breath for you to say something. Anything.

“Bucky,” was all you said. 

That was all you had to say. He knew what you meant. He knew you were asking him “what happened?” he knew you meant you felt guilty, he knew you wanted to cry.

You looked at him expectantly.

“Doll, I—I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on with you?” You brought the ice back to his rapidly darkening bruise.

Bucky sucked in a breath. He wasn’t sure how to answer. 

Make the wave, Bucky. Make the wave.

“I need to tell you something.” He brought his hand up to yours and made you lower the ice pack.

“What?”

“Doll, for a very long time I’ve been feeling…” The words died off. He tried again. “You’re my best friend, and I love you.”

“I love you too, Bucky. Always.” 

“I know, but Doll I’m in—”

The crash of a door closing stopped him.

“Babe, will you come talk to me now?” Miles whined, attempting a pout.

“Miles, just give me a minute. What were you saying, Bucky?” Your eyes sparkled, looking intently in his.

Bucky sighed.

“It’s not important right now, I’ll tell you later.”

You looked away and nodded sadly.

“Okay.”

It was 12am, and Bucky couldn’t sleep. He was only thinking about how close he was to telling you the truth. 

Giving up on sleep for the time being, he slid out of bed to get some water. But on his way to the kitchen, he passed the couch, and there you laid. He instantly forgot about the water and kneeled in front of you. Your eyes were shut, but you didn’t look peaceful. Your eyebrows were drawn together, and Bucky fought the instinct to smooth them out.

“Doll,” he whispered, resting his palm on your shoulder. “Doll?”

“Mhuh?” You mumbled, blinking your eyes open. 

“Why are you sleeping on the couch?”

“Because,”

“Is that actually comfortable for you?” He asked, noting the way you curled in on yourself under the small blanket.

“It works.”

“Do you want to come lay in my bed?”

“No.”

“Okay.” He turned to walk away.

“Fine,” you grumbled, reaching for his hand.

You slowly got up, and sluggishly followed Bucky to his bed. You crawled in and under the blankets, and he filed in behind you.

“G’night,” you mumbled, heavy eyes already falling shut.

“Goodnight, Doll,” he tenderly whispered, blushing at how soft you were.

Bucky laid a small kiss on your forehead. He didn’t miss the faint upturn of your lips.

I love you, Doll.

A/N: Thank you my loves for reading! ONLY ONE MORE PART TO GO WOOHOO! I appreciate each and every one of you. Now get out there and make the wave!!

#bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky angst #bucky fanfic #make the wave #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky fluff #BestFriend!Bucky #best friend!bucky #bucky series #bucky mini series

[botnasty]

The Theory of It All

Pairing:  Roommate!Bucky Barnes X F!Reader

Summary: There are theories for everything in life and Bucky sure heard some pretty interesting one...

Warning: SMUT, FLUFF, some angst, hurt/comfort, Bucky with tattoos and glasses (and more on each chapter, read them carefully)

Part One: I Heard a Theory

Part Two: I Heard Another Theory

Part Three: Fuck your Theory

Part Four: No More Theory

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #roommate!bucky barnes #roommate!bucky #roommate!bucky x reader #roommate!au #au #modern au #best friend!bucky #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan series #bucky barnes series

[jadedvibes]

Always

Summary: Bucky realizes he's in love with you right before graduation, but you accepted a job offer across the country. Fortunately, nothing, not even distance can hinder the way you feel about one another.

Pairing: best friend!Bucky x reader

Series word count: ~ 8k

Warnings: fluff, angst with an eventual happy ending, lots of feels, swearing, nicknames.

part I

part II

part III

part IV

This mini-series is complete ♡

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x woc!reader #bucky barnes au #best friend!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #mini series #james buchanan barnes #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns imagine #college au #college!bucky #best friends to lovers #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #series masterlist #bucky series #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #always #bucky barnes x you

[vypresuh]

stupor pt. 2 | bb

summary: It's the morning after you and bucky's drunken night together, and you think it's finally time that you address what happened.

pairings: best friend!bucky x fem!reader

tags: fluffy, sensual touch, light angst , vulgar language 𐑺

[ READ PART 1 HERE!!!]

a/n: it's taken a little long to get this part out to you all, but thank you for reading and indulging and even loving my content thus far, and giving so much love to 'stupor' & 'desperada' it's absolutely overwhelming! ALSO, consider this a THANK YOU GIFT FOR OUR 200 FOLLOWER MILESTONE! I LOVE ALL OF YOU SO MUCH 🥺 Please enjoy and i'll be posting again soon. much love darlings <33

word count: 1.7K

Last night’s sleep took you under its wing quickly, allowing you to rest your thoughts as well as your eyes for at least another few hours. And you relished in it. Each breath you took of the frigid air around you only allowed you to sink even deeper into your slumber. You barely found pleasure in your usual tossing and turning, which you did every night because if you made even the slightest movement you were sure to wake Bucky. Though, he must sleep like a rock if he was unaware of your current circumstances.

Fortunately enough, you did not feel him stir in the night or shift awkwardly at all. The two of you stayed perfectly in sync with the other, adjusting position as needed, but he never relinquished you from his hold. And you liked it that way. However, a part of you cursed yourself for even thinking of Bucky like this— finding comfort in canoodling with him in the first place. But you couldn't help it, you were a sucker for many things and this may just as well be one of them.

The faint sounds of birds chirping outside of your window were only the precursor to the blaring car horns and irritated traffic-goers that welcomed you to the new day. The sky beckoned the sun forth from its rest, its bright blades piercing crudely through the blinds in an attempt to wake you. You winced from the obnoxious beams that burned your eyelids— bringing your hand up to block them from your face. You would turn over if you could, but there was still a large oaf of a man that was steadily crushing you with his weight.

Bucky’s soft snoring rumbled against your chest in small intervals. He would occasionally fix the position of his head that would sink him further into your breasts, making you go rigid—your hair sticking up on its ends like a frightened kitten, but then you found some comfort in it, relaxing back into your skin, embracing his touch as if you have starved of it yourself, which, actually wasn’t too far off. This kind of intimate touch became foreign to you, since being an agent wasn't the most inviting job in the world, and you never have time for much else other than work. Things such as love and even occasional hook-ups were obsolete. You risked your life every day, but you could never risk the life of somebody you loved so you swore yourself free of relationships. Despite the cons, if it wasn't for your current employment, you never would have met Bucky at all.

Glancing down at him sleeping just as peacefully as last time, your palm connected to his soft skin as you released a breath that had been sealed away in your lungs for too long. His skin was so smooth, considering the full tactical attire he wore daily, you would assume his flesh would be a bit rougher to the touch, but it lacked flaws no matter where the pads of your fingers landed. Your fingers climbed over the hill of his shoulders and trailed south of his spine, following the slight curve that met the middle of his back before the rest of his torso disappeared under the blanket. You followed the same path and used your hand to travel up again towards the nape of his neck. He shivered a little, his muscles tensing at the sensation. You watched his bones bulge at the behest of your finger before settling once more.

“Ugh.. just a few more minutes..” a deep, groggy voice chimed.

You were taken aback by how deep his voice was. It was oddly attractive. “Well, good morning to you too.”

Bucky groaned. “Y/N? Is that you? What are y-” He started pulling himself up off of you, both of his arms relinquishing your frame from their hold.

Your eyes did not move from him as his features tightened because of his sudden awakening. He took a deep breath and glanced around the room for a moment, taking in the space around him before returning to meet your eyes. He stared into them for a moment like he was studying them, working his sight down towards your semi-exposed breasts and his shirtless frame between your thighs.

You could see the gears turning in his head until it clicked. His face flushed of all color as his eyes flickered nervously across your face and body. “Shit.. did I- did we?”

You simply shrugged, not sure of the answer to that question yourself. Nothing about last night was crystal clear.

“That's what I was hoping you knew the answer to.” You replied, sitting up onto your elbows.

“Fuck.” Bucky crashed down into the space beside you and ran his hand across his face. He seemed just as stressed and confused as you had assumed him to be earlier. But he wasn't running away from it. He just seemed to be processing it.

Flipping over onto your side to face him, you watched his face for any change in expression, but he gave you nothing for a while. Just stared up at the ceiling fan that whirred overhead.

“I’m surprised you are as calm as you are right now.” He prodded.

“Don't be. I've been freaking out on the inside.” you retorted. “I’m surprised, you’re not running around with your head cut off either.”

“Trust me, I’m just as shocked as you are. It’s not everyday you wake up naked next to your best friend in their own bed.”

You scoffed. “Tell me about it. Do you remember anything?”

“Some things, it's still pretty foggy.” He stopped to think for a moment.

“ I remember..us getting a few drinks after a job. We left the others at the bar while we caught a taxi back to your place? And thennnnn.. .” Bucky paused for a moment— a mischievous grin grew on his face from whatever memory he just had. He turned to you and smirked.

“You kissed me.”

If there was a button you could use to blow up the entire world at that moment, you probably would have. You mentally slapped yourself over and over and over again, calling yourself a dumbass for even trying it with him in the first place. You took the pillow that you were laying back on and slammed it over your face to hide from the embarrassment.

You could hear Bucky belly laughing beside you as if you needed him to cause you any more emotional pain.

“Real funny Barnes...”.

“Hey, hey, hey. Doll,” he started, trying to hide his laughter. He sat up on his elbows and removed the pillow from your face. His hand rested on your cheek, pulling your face to look at him. “take a breath. These things happen. It's not that big a deal. For all you know, that could have been it.”

“Not a big deal? I came onto you while we were drunk and I don't even remember it, and on top of that, we’re almost completely naked.”

“Well… good point. And let's blame your memory loss on the liquor and not me being incompetent.” he teased.

“I’m serious, Buck. What if this ruins our friendship?”

Bucky hushed you immediately and brushed his thumb across your cheeks. “As long as I’m alive, nothing will ruin us. Also, our bond is a lot stronger than you think, I don't fear a little slip will break it. Okay?”

You relaxed into his hold, shutting your eyes briefly as he caressed your skin. Maybe he was right. You loved him enough to not throw everything you had built together away because of a slip. Though you still had your reservations, you still believed in the strength of what love both of you had for each other, and that was enough. You and he were an inseparable pair bonded by a common want to keep each other safe. You protected each other, you looked after one another. And that was something you never wanted to lose.

“You’re right. I just- you know. I care about you.”

Bucky placed his hand on his heart and looked at you with the widest puppy dog eyes he had in his arsenal and flashed you with them. “That's the sweetest compliment you've ever given me. I half expected you to call me a dumbass like always.”

You laughed and mushed his shoulder. “Not my fault. I call it as I see it, Barnes.”

“I see why everyone says you’re not a morning person.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

“Seriously though, even if we did do something last night, I don’t regret it in the slightest.”

“Neither do I. If anything, I’m glad it was you.” You replied, looking to him for approval, but you were instead greeted with a sly grin.

You realized what you said and how you said it and immediately felt the repercussions. Your cheeks flushed with color and warmth instantly as you turned away from him and scratched your neck. “Well-! I just mean, I’m glad it was you and not some random guy-”

“Y/N.” He said, stopping you in your tracks by placing his hand on top of yours. “I feel the same way. No matter what way things go, I’ll never stop caring about you. You're stuck with me, so suck it up.”

A gentle sigh of relief fell from your lips once he said that to you. All the preconceived notions you had in your head began to disperse and made room for your new reality. It wasn't how you planned for things to go, but as long as he was there to help guide you through this new phase in your friendship, you were certain that there was nothing that could tear the two of you apart.

“Now if you’re done with your mini-existential-crisis. Daddy needs his cuddles.” He teased, opening his arms out wide for you.

Against your better judgement and a smack of your teeth, you did as he requested and snuggled into the spot he left open for you, laying your head underneath his chin and wrapping yourself around him. Bucky did the same, leaving his hands on your bare back and tracing over your flesh.

“And you wonder why I call you a dumbass.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes concept #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #best friend!bucky #the avengers #avengers fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #marvel smut

[hazywrites]

Bucky I’m In Love With My Best Friend

Chapter 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You are hopelessly in love with your best friend, James Buchanan Barnes, and it's clear he feels something for you, too. So between stolen kisses and hookups, drunken calls and flirty banter, why can't you talk about it? What even is "it"?

Warnings: Light angst, an argument, all is resolved

Words: 5,090

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48220744/chapters/121858312

Chapter 3

Chapter Notes: Hi, my loves! This chapter is a little longer than the last one, and a little angstier, though I always try to wrap things up on a happy note. Please let me know what you all think! I love you and thank you for reading!

“Did you tell Bucky?” Were the first words to spill out of Nat’s mouth as she came rushing into your room. Wanda shot you a sympathetic look from where she was sat, cross-legged, at the end of your bed.

“No,” you replied with a resolved pout. “He didn’t text me all day. He doesn’t get to know. He can find out when he sees me next and wonder why he was left out of the loop.”

“Nice to know we’re being mature about this.” Wanda’s words were drowned out as Nat spoke over her.

“Let’s sign your cast.” You nodded towards your desk where a pencil case brimming with art supplies sat unzipped. An assortment of colored Sharpies overflowed from it. Nat went for classic black, tossing Wanda a red one. After they finished, Nat sat next to you, leaning in conspiratorially. “If you really want to make him jealous, get another guy to sign it first.”

“Another guy?” You blinked. “I don’t know any other guys. I mean, I do, but my guy friends are nerds; Bucky won’t be jealous of them.”

“Get Loki to do it,” Nat squealed delightedly. You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows at her turpitude. Bucky was close with Thor but he absolutely despised his younger brother. But you couldn’t go that far. Bucky never talked to people you hated; you wanted to reciprocate that respect. He was your friend, first, after all. You were about to protest the idea when Wanda spoke up.

“And Erik downstairs. Bucky definitely noticed the way he eyes you up. He’s always calling the guy a cornball and looking for reasons to dislike him,” she added.

“Wanda!” You scolded, not at all surprised to hear Nat talking like this but very shocked indeed to hear it coming from your most rational friend. She simply grinned bashfully in response.

“He hasn’t texted you all day,” Wanda reminded you. “Nothing wrong with reminding him how steep the competition is out here.

“I wouldn’t want him to remind me how steep the competition is,” you argued. Nat waved her hand dismissively.

“But if he does it, he’s a douchebag because he knows you two would’ve been in a relationship already if it were up to you. He’s the one who ‘needs time’, so you can show him that if he doesn’t step up, another guy will!”

“Somehow, I don’t think Bucky is that insecure. He’d just say something like ‘if that’s what you want, then that’s that’ and never talk to me again.”

“Oh, I forgot you two love playing the emotionally mature game.” Nat wrinkled her nose in disapproval. “But if we go out tonight and you just happen to run into Erik and Loki before Bucky texts you, he’ll have no one to blame but himself.” You groaned in response.

“I just ate shit on the way home from class and spent the last three hours in an emergency room. I do not feel like going out tonight.”

“And is the alternative sitting in bed, eating peanut butter cups and complaining about how much your arm hurts and how Bucky hasn’t texted you back?” Wanda asked pointedly. You shot her a death glare.

“Maybe the peanut butter cups will keep him at bay. He is allergic,” you mused.

“Yeah, no, I’m sorry; I do not want to deal with pouty Y/N right now. Get dressed and put on your best sad, wounded puppy look,” Nat said. She eyed you for a second. “Yeah, just like that.” You groaned loudly in response, only growing louder as she stood up and made her way to your closet, flipping through your dresses.

You’d settled on a strapless emerald green mini dress and black boots, which Wanda helped you into as Nat did your hair and makeup. Since you couldn’t exactly put anything on over your sling, your jacket hung over your shoulders. You wanted to complain more, but the girls were right. You’d be in pain either way. Might as well distract yourself from it, both physically and emotionally.

You were heading downstairs when Nat slowed you all to a stop in the hallway.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Y/N?” She asked, louder than necessary. You hid your face behind your hand as you realized what she was doing. “Oh, Y/N, you poor thing. Wanda, will you help Y/N with her jacket?” Her speaking volume raised each time she said your name, making your face flush in humiliation, especially as the door to the apartment you’d stopped in front of slowly swung open, revealing a curious-looking Erik.

“Y/N? I thought I heard your name,” he said.

“A wonder how that came to be,” you mumbled under your breath. His eyes fell on your cast.

“What happened to you? Are you okay?” Concern laced his voice.

“I’m just clumsy,” you conceded with a tight smile. “I tripped reading on my way out of the library. Should’ve watched where I was going.”

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he said, his fingers ghosting your arm as he stared down at you intensely. “I thought someone hurt you; I’d have to teach them a lesson.” He gave you a crooked smile as he said it, gazing into your eyes. Out of the corner of your eyes, you spotted Nat’s triumphant grin, as Wanda had the decency to pretend to be reading a job posting stapled to the community corkboard. Jesus, Bucky was right, you couldn’t help but think. This guy really is a cornball. “Oh, hey, they signed your cast. Why don’t I add my name to it?”

“Luckily,” Nat interjected, “I happen to have brought some Sharpies. What color would you like?”

“How about gold?” Erik asked, flashing his bright, picture perfect smile. You watched Nat grow a little flustered as she handed him the marker. Of course he would pick gold, you thought to yourself. “Where are you guys headed?” Erik asked as he finished signing your cast, finally taking in your outfits. Nat’s eyes sparkled.

“We’re just—“

“Late, we are running late,” you interrupted, ushering her away with your good hand. “Nice seeing you Erik, see you around!” You called as Wanda held the door open for you all to step outside, leaving a confused Erik still standing in his doorway.

“If you don’t want him, I’ll take him,” Nat said into the evening air as the door shut behind you.

“Take away,” you sighed as you began walking to the bar where Wanda swore she’d seen Loki on Snap Map. “You know this is borderline stalking,” you reminded her.

“It is public information,” she clarified. “And we got to speak to my bachelor, so we’re doing Nat’s next!”

“It’s like the world’s shittiest game show,” you lamented. “All the douchebags and no cash prize.”

“The prize,” Wanda reminded you, “will be Bucky seeing how many men will happily take his place and be your shoulder to cry on if he ever pulls a disappearing act like he did today.” You couldn’t help but smirk at her overprotectiveness. You knew Bucky most likely got caught up in a game of pick-up basketball or was busy with schoolwork, but you couldn’t help the chip on your shoulder that you’d broken your arm and he wasn’t around to help you. So much for best friends, you thought bitterly.

You spotted Loki almost immediately after entering the bar. He was leaning against a pool table, laughing at something his friends were saying when he caught your eye. You turned to notice that Nat and Wanda had already made themselves scarce, heading to the bar to get you drinks.

“Y/N,” Loki greeted as he strutted towards you, his eyes flitting down briefly to take in the sling. “Don’t you look worse for wear.”

“Gee, thanks, Loki,” you rolled your eyes. He laughed.

“You look beautiful as ever, darling, I was merely referring to the little nylon accessory you’re currently sporting.” You sighed.

“I may be beauty but I am not grace. I tripped coming out of the library.” Unlike Erik’s concerned reaction, Loki merely tilted his head back in a roaring laugh, a sound that irritated you to your core like proverbial nails on a chalkboard.

“Perhaps not grace, but the phrase ‘beauty and brains’ does come to mind,” he conceded. He gestured towards the pool table. “I’d offer for you to join me but it seems you are out of commission for the time being.”

“I’ll watch,” you said, resignedly, leaning on a nearby pool table. You watched him play for a minute before Nat and Wanda returned, Malibu bay breeze in hand. You smiled gratefully as you sipped the drink down. Loki greeted them both in turn as he made his shot before finally looking up from his game and leaning on the table next to you. For a moment neither of you said anything.

“So,” he finally spoke. “No Buckley today?”

“Bucky,” you corrected him, his answering shrug confirming your suspicion that he already knew your best friend’s name. “And no. We haven’t spoken today.” Loki hummed in response, his expression calculating as he took in the defeated slump of your shoulders.

“Despite your recent injury,” he noted.

“I mean, I didn’t exactly text him about it,” you admitted.

“You’re still upset. Why is that, if you haven’t even given him a chance to show up for you?”

“Because,” you sighed. “I shouldn’t have to. He doesn’t ask me to show up for him, I just do it. A little reciprocity would be nice.” He hummed in response.

“You know, Y/N, not everyone shows their affection the same way you do. Just because Bucky doesn’t speak your love language, doesn’t mean he isn’t speaking his own.”

“He doesn’t speak any love language,” you scoffed. Loki’s index finger and thumb touched your chin, just for a moment, as he tilted your face up to look into his eyes. His fingers were off you just as quickly as he chose his next words.

“Listen, love. You know I think I could make you much happier than that joker ever could.” You opened your mouth to protest, but he shot you a silencing look before continuing. “And I know that there is no room in your heart for anyone besides him. But ask yourself. When is the last time he spoke to someone for this long? His reputation precedes him, you know. But with you, it’s different. You’re not a fling. Maybe he’s taking his time with you because he thinks you’re worth taking things slowly with. And maybe each time he distances himself, he’s trying to stop this from burning out too soon because he’s decided he wants you around for a long time.” You stared at him in stunned silence for a moment as he stood up and stretched, cue stick in hand. “I mean, what do I know? The guy’s an idiot. If you were my girl, I’d show you off to the entire city. And take you on a date that isn’t sneaking into AMC to see The Batman for free for the tenth time.” He shot you a smirk. “Though I suspect you enjoy that. So how about you hand me a Sharpie and I can sign that cast of yours to make him jealous, and you can head over to his apartment?”

“How did you know?” You laughed.

“Your two best friends and Erik Killmonger? Please, darling. Discreet is not your strong suit. Seeing as gold has been taken, why don’t you hand me the green one to match that pretty little dress of yours?”

The walk back to Bucky’s apartment was contemplative for you. You ran into Peter and MJ coming out of a restaurant with Tony and Pepper along the way, so you were grateful for a few more signatures from your friends to hide your stupid, embarrassing scheme. Wanda and Nat finally left you at the door to the brownstone Bucky and his roommates shared. With your good hand, you knocked shakily. It was Steve who answered.

“Y/N? What happened to you?” He asked as he took in your arm.

“Being clumsy, as usual,” you replied, peeking past him. “Is Bucky home?”

“Yeah, he’s in his room, come on in,” he said, stepping aside to let you in first before closing the door behind you. You greeted Thor and Sam playing 2K on the living room floor, brushing off their concern. Before you could make it to Bucky’s room, he came out. His hair was wet from a shower and he was wearing plaid pajama pants and the Christmas t-shirt he always wore to bed. His already plump pink lips were settled in a confused pout.

“Y/N?” He asked, his eyes dancing over your frame before making their way back to your face.

“Hey, Buck.”

“You tried to breathe and walk at the same time again?” He asked teasingly. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, though.

“Oh, this? I fell off a cellphone tower. I thought perhaps I wasn’t getting any bars since you haven’t texted me all day.” You shot back. It was semi-playful but laced with something else.

“Phone works both ways,” he reminded you in his smart-ass tone. Oh, he was upset. But why? You wondered. He hadn’t even seen the signatures yet. “I’ve been waiting for a text from you,” he confessed, opening the door to his bedroom and leaning back against it as you walked in. He joined you in sitting at the edge of his bed and brushed your jacket off your shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me as soon as it happened?” He asked as he touched your arm gently, inspecting the injury. His eyebrows shot up as he read the signatures and you felt your face flush. “Looks like you’ve been in good hands, at least.” It was hard to miss the iciness in his tone.

“Not like you care,” you grumbled. A look flashed across his face that you couldn’t mistake for anything but anger.

“I don’t care?” He asked disbelievingly.

“I didn’t mean that, I…” you trailed off unsurely.

“So what did you mean, Y/N? Besides putting words in my mouth?”

“I don’t know, I… You didn’t text me all day.”

“Yeah, because I was busy with shit. And you didn’t text me either. But you had time to have half of New York sign your cast,” he scoffed. Shit. This was a bad idea, jealousy was such a negative emotion. Why did you let Nat and Wanda talk you into this?

“Half of New York would’ve signed my cast whether you showed up for me or not, Bucky,” you cried. “I have friends, you know. I don’t just sit around waiting for you all day.” Such a lie. Yes, you did.

“I never said you did,” Bucky raised his voice to match yours. “Where is this coming from?”

“I just,” you sighed. “I just want you to show up for me.”

“All this because I didn’t text you for one day? The phone works both ways, Y/N.”

“No, not just today. I mean. Like, you ice me out. We spend the night together and you get all cold and distant after. We’re friends and then we’re more than friends but it’s always on your terms. Anytime we get too close, you push me away again.” You felt tears welling up in your eyes as you spoke despite how much you willed yourself not to cry.

“I need time, Y/N, I told you this,” he replied. His tone was even but his eyebrows were knotted together in frustration.

“Yeah, I know, but what about what I need? Reassurance. Affection. I’m not a sex doll, you know.”

“I never said you are.”

“I know you didn’t. But I feel like one. You hate when I say we’re just friends but the only time you’re intimate with me outside of that is sex.”

“So you don’t want to have sex anymore,” he concluded, the corners of his pouty lips twitching into a frown.

“No, Bucky, I want to have sex but I want more than that, don’t you get it?”

“And I’m telling you I need time. Y/N, please. I would’ve showed up for you today if you asked. I would’ve taken you to the E.R. I would’ve signed your cast first. If you texted me.”

“I…” you started, cutting yourself off with a sigh after a moment. “I know. I don’t know what I was trying to prove,” you admitted quietly.

“C’mere. Let me get you out of that dress. Which shirt do you want to wear?” He asked.

“That one,” you nodded towards the one he was wearing.

“Of course. Couldn’t make it easy for me,” he shook his head with a slight smile and pulled the shirt over his head in one swift motion. You couldn’t help but blush at the sight of his naked torso and look away even though it was nothing you hadn’t seen before. His motions were gentle and slow, his eyebrows pulled together in concentration as he helped you dress. Soon you were laid up in nothing but his Christmas tee and your panties, and Bucky remained shirtless in his pajama pants at your side.

“Where is it?” He finally asked.

“Where is what?” You replied in question, confusion lacing your tone. He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“My Sharpie,” he answered. You felt your face flush as he shot you a triumphant smirk.

“It’s in my jacket pocket,” you admitted. He fished it out, signing the available spot on your hand in bright orange. His favorite color. The signature was unnecessarily big, and he finished with a heart. You shot him a smile and he rolled his eyes at you.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it before I turn it into a butt,” he warned. You giggled and nodded your agreement, your mind racing with things to say but none of them seeming like enough.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” you breathed into the dark room after a while.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” his sleepy voice mumbled in reply. His soft snores filled the room only moments after.

#best friend!bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes friends to lovers #bucky barnes situationship #bucky barnes mutual pining #bucky barnes college au #bucky barnes light angst #bucky barnes fluff #friends to lovers #situationship #mutual pining #college au #light angst #fluff #feels

[haleyhunwritess]

Hiya!! Could you write something soft with bestfriend!bucky x reader🤍🤍

🤍 drabble with soft best friend!bucky comforting reader

a/n: okay I'm not even gonna lie, this is kinda bad and long for no reason lol, its mostly me just projecting the shit i'm going through right now but i hope you still enjoy it lol

𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐲’𝐬 𝟏𝐤 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Angel, can I come in?” Bucky tried knocking on your door again.

“P-please just go away…” You mumbled quietly, though Bucky still heard you. He could also hear the muffled sounds of crying coming from your room.

“I just wanna make sure you’re okay, doll. Can I please just come in for a moment?” Bucky knocked on your door once again. Just a few minutes ago you were laughing with him in the kitchen as he was telling you stories from when he was younger. The laughter quickly stopped after you received a notification from the guy you had been seeing for the past month. Bucky didn’t get to read the text but judging from the look on your face, it wasn’t good.

“Not o-okay…just go away please! Just wanna be alone…won’t get hurt if I alone…” You shoved your face back against the pillow, starting to cry loudly again.

Hearing you cry like that, Bucky couldn’t wait. He knew the door was unlocked but he didn’t wanna come in unless you gave him permission to. But screw getting permission right now, especially with how hard you were crying. Walking in, he noticed you were huddled up under a bunch of blankets on your bed.

“Doll? Are you hiding under all these blankets?”Bucky slowly lifted the blankets of you, his heart clenching at the sight of your tear-stained face.

“Don’t wanna talk, please leave…” You mumbled, trying to pull the blankets back over your head.

Bucky was quick to stop you however, and forced you to sit up, “That’s alright, you don’t have to talk. All I wanna do is make sure you’re okay, and then I’ll leave, I promise.”

“I’m fine, just go…” You muttered, crossing your arms.

“Please don’t lie to me, angel. What’s wrong?” Bucky sighed, sitting down on the bed infront of you.

“I…Everything h-hurts…” You said quietly, looking down at the blankets as the tears found their way back to your face.

“What hurts, love? Did you hurt yourself?” Bucky looked at you, looking for any injuries. He knew you weren’t physically injured but he still wanted to make sure.

“No I meant like on the inside, it feels like everything hurts, like my heart hurts…”

Bucky nodded before responding, “Did someone say something to you? Or do something?”

“Just sick of being everyone’s second option. Always stringing me along and using me until someone better replaces me. I’m sick of it…” You confessed as you turned your head to look away from Bucky, feeling embarrassed about the situation you were in, once again.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Bucky sighed, “You don’t deserve to be treated this way, I’m sorry.”

“Whatever, ‘S fine I’m used to it,” You shrugged, trying to wipe your tears away quickly.

“That doesn’t mean it’s okay though. You don’t deserve to be someone’s second option, you deserve so much more. You deserve to be treated with love and respect.” Bucky replied, taking your hand in his and rubbing it gently.

“I-I hate that they always try to hide it too…every time, after a while, they’ll start to become a bit distant, and that’s how I know they’re gonna leave soon. They’ll deny it and say I’m just being insecure but sure enough, each time it’s the same thing. Each time they’ll be talking to some other girl behind my back, and then later on they’ll ghost me instead of telling me anything.” You continued, “I’m just so sick of the lies, if you’re gonna use me like that then at least be fucking honest about it. Stop lying and telling me I’m picturing things and how you only want me. Just tell me the truth.”

Once the words left your mouth, it was like you couldn’t stop. You just continued telling him how hurt you were and how often things like this would happen to you. You looked back at him, and almost cringed at the pity look on his face.

Bucky was quiet for a moment, just trying to think of the right words. However, he really didn’t know what to say after your little confession, “I don’t know what to say, doll…I just- I’m so sorry you’re going through this. You deserve so much better. It’s okay to want them to tell you the truth, especially if you’ve been hurt like this before. You’re allowed to be scared, and if they’re really worth it they wouldn’t just call you insecure and lie to you. They would tell you your feelings are valid and reassure you instead, and they certainly wouldn’t lie to you,”

You nearly scoffed at him as he said all those sweet words. You’d heard them before from nearly all your friends, but it was getting harder to believe them. Especially when others around never seemed to have these issues.

“I know you may not believe me right now, and that’s okay. You don’t need to worry about any of that right now. Only thing you need to focus on right now is forgetting about that idiot. How about we go get some food and then come home and watch movies all day, yeah?” Bucky kissed the top of your head, pulling you in closer to hug you. You nodded, smiling a bit at his words. He always knew what to say.

And he was right, you didn’t need to worry about that right now. All you have to do now is forget about that idiot. You couldn’t help but start crying again though, feeling that anxiety creep its way back in.

“It’s all gonna be okay, love, I promise.” Bucky held you in arms, letting you cry on his shoulder.

#best friend!bucky x reader #bestfriend!bucky #best friend!bucky #james bucky buchanan barnes #🤍 drabble #1k celebration #haley 1k celebration

[bluehourbucky]

The Girl of Your Dreams

pairing: bestfriend!Bucky x (amab)trans!reader

summary: you're in love with your best friend but you don't think he's in love with you

a/n: uh I love me some angst hehe this is one of my fav tropes and I couldn't help myself I had to write it! I haven't seen many trans rep in fics maybe I just haven't come across any but I want everyone to feel welcome so I wrote this <3

warnings: probably some typos;

/ main masterlist / bucky /

_________________________________________

The music is deafening, you cant hear your own thoughts over the song playing currently, it doesn't help you've had a bit to drink and are starting to feel tipsy.

You didn't feel like going out tonight but your friends made you, more like your best friend made you with his puppy eyes that you couldn't deny.

Bucky has been your friend over 10 years ever since you've met at college, you two instantly clicked you've never had a friend like him. To be fair half of your life you were pretending to be something you're not. Going to college as yourself was so liberating.

You've been assigned a dorm at college but you've gone to the wrong building on your first day which has lead to you meeting Bucky.

"Uh hi?" your cheeks turn crimson red when a shirtless guy opened the door of your room.

"Is this room 306?"

"Yeah but my roommate has already settled in lemme see that paper." he snatched the paper out of your hands.

"So you're in the wrong building this is building B and yours is across the campus in building A."

You're trying so hard not to stare at his abs but you're failing miserably.

"Doll, you there?"

"Sorry yeah, I- uh is it too much to ask you to show me where this building is?"

"Sure no problem. Let's go."

"Uh you're not going to put on a shirt?"

"Nah this is how I get the chicks."

"You're gross."

"Am I? Didn't I just catch you staring at my glorious abs?"

"Again, you're gross."

It wasn't that sweet of a meeting but you couldn't be more thankful that Bucky has stayed your friend for so many years. If it wasn't for him you don't think you would've survived college. Underneath his tough exterior and his big personality was hidden a very sweet and thoughtful guy you've come to love so much.

Since then both of you had grown so much and your love towards him had changed into much more than just platonic love. Yes you still loved him as a friend but God what you wouldn't give to be kissed by him only once.

People come and go, but you and Bucky, you're sure it's forever - maybe not in the way you'd want it to be but it's more than enough.

It's been a while since you've given up on dating, for many reasons but mostly because you've never stopped comparing people you were with at the moment with Bucky. They could never be him. He didn't know that but all your mutual friends did.

It was easy for them to say just tell him how you feel whatever happens, happens. For you it's not so easy, you'd rather have Bucky as a best friend or not at all.

But damn it hurts watching him dance with women who look so ready to devour him.

Bucky like you hasn't been in a serious relationship for a while now, he says he's still to young to settle down and you respect that.

You wish you two had made a deal to get married to each other by the time you're 35 if neither of you are married by then - you would only have to wait a few more years. Unfortunately you did not and now you are stuck with watching other women take your Bucky.

"You look too pretty to be so sad." Natasha says as she sits next to you on a barstool.

"Thanks, but I'm fine." you say looking down at your drink in your hand.

"You know he's in love with you right?"

you laugh like it's the most ridiculous thing ever.

"Nat he's not in love with me. He's been in love before I've seen it and he's certainly not in love with me."

Natasha has been trying make both you and Bucky confess your feelings for each other and she's been failing miserably. Steve was also involved but he also had no luck. He isn't sure who's more stubborn you or Bucky.

"I'm just saying you should give it a shot and stop being so stubborn. You deserve to be happy."

"I am happy."

"You've been staring at that woman since she approached Bucky if looks could kill she'd be dead."

"I am not staring. She's gorgeous and Bucky deserves someone like that."

Natasha rolls her eyes, she loves you but damn can you be stubborn.

"Well seems like he doesn't think so."

Before you can ask her what she's talking about Bucky hugs you from behind and wraps his arms around your waist.

"You know it's a shame not to show off the outfit it took you four hours to decide on." He whispers in your and you immediately get goosebumps. It's not like he never does this you're just overwhelmed.

"Hey, are you okay?" suddenly he's serious when you don't reply or look at him, usually you'd tell him off or something but you're quiet.

"I'm fine Jamie."

"Come on, you're gonna dance with me and tell me what's wrong." Bucky pulls you by the hand to the dance floor.

"Bucky no I'm not in the mood." you try to pull your hand out of his gasp but he just puts his hand on your waist and leads you like that.

He starts dancing with you and you laugh when he starts doing Macarena to a Nicki Minaj song. You can't even bring yourself to be embarrassed.

"See I knew I could make you smile." He says and you roll your eyes. Your heart stops when he grabs your waist and pulls you into him. He's dancing with you like he did with that woman maybe you're even closer to him than she was. But you don't want to get into your head and get ideas.

"I'm not in the mood to dance I think I'm gonna call it a night." You untangle yourself from Bucky and rush out of the club.

"Wait!" you turn around and notice Bucky who has followed you out.

"What's going on? Are you okay?" He puts his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm tired." you try to shrug him off.

"Did I do something?"

Your heart aches at his hurt tone.

"No, it's just..." you inhale, milion thoughts racing through your mind.

"I can't pretend that I'm not hurt every time I see you with another woman. I can't help but think how much I wish that was me you're holding, me you're kissing, me who you're loving! And I know that will never be me!"

you yell, tears falling from your eyes, and you can't even bring yourself to look at Bucky.

"How long have you felt that way?"

"I don't know when I fell in love with you. Maybe I've loved you since the beginning, and I just tried to push it down. Maybe it was gradual and when I started falling I didn't realise I was and then it was just you who I wanted."

"I've loved you for years, doll. But you are so out of my league you deserve much better than what I have to offer. If I knew you'd felt this way I would've told you that years ago."

Your jaw hangs open you're looking at Bucky in disbelief, did you hear him right. - out of his league????

"Are you insane? Out of your league?! All I ever wanted was to be the girl of your dreams and you're telling me that you think you're not enough for me?!"

"You are the girl of my dreams! God I hated seeing you date other people. I know that's selfish when I'd been sleeping around to get over you! I was so afraid of telling you because I would rather have you as a best friend or not at all."

Bucky takes a breath and continues.

"What I'm saying is I love you and I know there's better guys out there who'll love you better but please if you give me a chance."

"Better guys then you? Who? The guy who asked me If I still have a dick? The guy who asked to feel my boobs? Wow so many good options."

Buckys blood boiled, the amount of first dates that you've been on have been awful because some people are literally just ignorant assholes. He wanted to beat every single one of them.

"God I hate them I still don't know why you didn't let me beat them up."

You both laugh at that, he'd wanted to beat up many people over the years.

"You're impossible but I love you."

"I love you too. And I'd really love to kiss you right now if you'd let me."

you don't answer verbally but you grab the back of Buckys neck and pull him in finally after years of dreaming about it you kiss the man you've been in love with.

You've put everything into that kiss, and you don't pull away until you're both out of breath.

"Damn, we should've done that a lot earlier!"

"I-"

Bucky pulls you in for another kiss and you instantly melt in his arms.

______________________________________

"Where did they go?" Steve asks Natasha not being able to find neither you or Bucky for a while.

"Uh I don't know they would've told us if they left." Natasha replies.

Natasha and Steve exit the club and immediately notice the two of you making out against the brick wall just few steps outside the club.

"Finally! I don't know what took them so long!"

__________________________________________

[The End]

likes comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

#bucky barnes oneshots #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky masterlist #sebastian stan characters #marvel fic #james buchanan barnes #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky x trans!reader #trans #best friend!bucky #friends to lovers

[veltana]

Divergent Mafia AU - Steve/Reader

This is like a divergent, extra thing I needed to get out when I wrote Bucky's break-up.

Steve and Reader are laying in bed, listening to Bucky have sex and help each other out.

NSFW-ish. Grinding.

"How does he even do it?" Steve sounds a little amazed as you both lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. "Drugs?" you ask. "Honestly, it has to be, how else is he going at it all the time like that?" "Maybe they're all faking it?" you suggest. "I've never heard anyone complain about him," Steve shrugs "But I mean statistically he can’t get it right for everyone every time." "If he does, he is one of a kind," you decide. "Tempted to go for a ride?" you hear the smile in Steve's voice without even looking.

You shrug but you would be lying if you told Steve that you weren't curious. Not only did the women sound pleased but Bucky’s sounds could be heard through the walls too and his deep voice moaning out how fucking good it felt had you tempted to touch yourself while listening to them.

When you don't answer Steve rolls on top of you, resting his hands beside your head, his thighs pressing your legs wide, clearly displaying the hard cock in his gray sweatpants. With your lower lip between your teeth, you lift your hips to meet his and when he moves against you, quiet moans come from both of you.

You stare at each other as he ruts against you and all you want to do is pull off your pajamas, yank down his pants, guide him into you, and let him fuck you until you're screaming louder than Bucky’s girl. But instead, you wrap your legs around his hips and press harder against him, bowing your back, trying to find the best angle. There are no kisses, this isn't that kind of thing, this is just two friends helping each other out with a common problem.

Steve drops his head, his arms shaking a little, he's probably close but so are you. Almost a week of imaging Bucky fucking and listening to every sound has got you on edge.

"Yes, Steve!" you hiss as color explodes behind your eyes and a familiar feeling flushes your body. Steve shudders out a moan and the front of his pants turns a darker shade of gray. Then he's laying next to you again, both of you breathing heavily.

"We should talk to him," you yawn when you hear the front door slam shut.

"I need to sleep," Steve says and reaches for you. Hugging you close before you both fall asleep.

#platonic relationships #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #best friend!bucky #best friend!steve #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!steve rogers #protective!bucky barnes #protective!steve rogers #best friends to lovers #veltana writes #mob!stucky x reader #mob!steve rogers #mob!bucky barnes #mob!steve x reader #mob!bucky x reader

[lovelybarnes]

The Thing- B. Barnes

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader Warnings: best friend bucky, i do not think it’s an au but honestly i dont know? I wrote this for fun so i made details fuzzy, innuendos. Did i check over this right im so tired About: new girl inspired. I was watching the episode with the trench coat and that fucking scen got to me like??? I had to. I started crying.

Bucky thumps around in your closet, too-long limbs making the doors shake when vibranium fingers slam against them. He grunts, followed by a disconcerting silence, only charcoaled by the metal clinking of steel hangers and heavy breaths. You purse your lips, looking up from your phone to stare at the shut doors. You can imagine him standing frozen for a glimpse of peace. Or staring at your favorite sweater, metal-finger-torn. You frown.

“Are you okay? Did you pass out?”

He huffs, more shuffling noises ensuing. “No.” Something drops to the floor.

“Pick that up!” you call when it doesn’t sound like he does.

“Why couldn’t I change in the same room? It’s cramped in here. And you’ve seen more.” He pauses and you can hear his smirk. “So have I,” he mutters pleasedly.

Your fingers reach for the closest thing and launch it at the closet. “Because the last time you did, Wanda walked in, and then Sam did, and we ended up with half of our friends staring at you half-naked on my bed.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Bucky argues.

“And my closet isn’t that small,” you quip.

Your closet doors roll open, light defining Bucky’s features and catching the blue in his irises. His sweater compliments the color too nicely than should be possible. Along with it, he wears a grimace.

“What’s wrong? You look great.”

“I’m starting to regret agreeing to this,” he admits, pulling at a thread.

“Starting to?” you parrot. “Agreeing?” You shove your legs to the side of the bed and stand, heading toward him. “Bucky, they had to bribe you into saying maybe. And then you insisted on staying anyway the entire time up to now.”

“I would really rather stay here with you.” Bucky leans into your touch when you settle your hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently.

“That’s all you’ve been doing for months,” you point out.

“And I’ve really enjoyed it,” he allays.

You laugh, fingers coming to a frustrated rest on his face. You try to come up with an argument but fail, deflating. “Me too.”

He grins. “See? I’m gonna go tell them I’m just gonna stay here to watch more horror movies with you.”

You loop your index and middle around his wrist before he can leave your room. “You know how much I love you. And how much I love spending time with you. Which is why I think you should go.” You continue before he can begin to argue. “This’ll be good for you. And me. You’re kind of annoying, you know?” you tease, wrinkling your nose.

He rolls his eyes but relents, inhaling deeply. “Fine.”

“If you absolutely hate it—”

“I will.” You glare at him.

“Then I will fully support you in never going out again.”

He perks up. “You’re my best friend. You should support me before that,” he jibs.

Exasperated, you wag a lazy finger in the air. “You’re so annoying.”

The door to your room bangs open to Sam and a slightly begrudging Steve both very dressed up. Sam has a hand over his eyes, other arm extended dramatically to search around him. “Everyone decent this time?”

You glance at Bucky.

“Yes, Sam,” Bucky groans.

He grins and claps. “So we can finally go out? Do I have to drag you out kicking? ‘Cuz I will.”

“He did,” Steve remarks further.

“No,” Bucky glowers, then gestures to you. “‘Convinced me.”

“Of course,” Sam says, turning to you with a smile. “Now, you. I love you, you know that, but tonight we’re going out to have fun. Which means,” he begins to count off on his fingers, “none of the girlfriend texts or calls you send all the time.”

“They’re not girlfriend,” you argue.

“And she can call me if she needs anything,” Bucky adds.

“But try not to,” Sam insists. “Now, let’s go.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, lamely watching his friends go out the door again. He turns to you and pecks your forehead. “Call me for whatever. I’ll probably thank you if I’m not the one insinuating.”

You shove him lightly. “Have fun.”

“Love you too!” he laughs, waving once more at you before he disappears past your doorframe. It’s only a few more seconds of the guys chatting before the apartment door closes and steals away the noise with it.

You deflate, sagging onto your bed. Dazedly, your fingertips drift to your forehead, where the shadow of a kiss still warms your skin. Frustration digs its nails into your arm and your hand fists, eyes squeezing closed. There’s the sticky rush of tears in the back of your throat and you groan loudly, but it’s obstructed and thin.

You pop an eyelid open when something else catches your attention, squeezing your lips closed to focus on the thin, chalkboard scratches further away. You sit up and stare out your door for a second, before realizing it’s coming from the front door.

“Bucky couldn’t have backed out by now,” you mutter, reasoning that he could’ve forgotten something when the noise suddenly stops. “Huh,” you quip. He must’ve found it.

You sigh again, at least satisfied that the sudden burst of emotion had passed. Deciding not to dwell on it, you pull your laptop onto your bed and search for a show to watch until you come up with something better to do.

It’s an episode and a half past when the noise returns, a little louder and accompanied by a faint tapping. Hopeful, you pause the episode, expecting for it to disappear with the click of your touchpad. When it doesn’t, you tense and think, calling out your friends’ names and listening to the responding quiet.

You pull at your fingers nervously, debating stilling to will it to go away or going to investigate. Clips from yours and Bucky’s horror movie night the previous day flash in your mind, making you cringe and stay put. Silence falls after a minute, but you remain unsettled, uneasily dragging yourself off your bed, poking your head out from your room to observe the hall up to the living room. “Bucky? Sam?”

No response.

You stare at the door, expecting some tangible inference of yours to appear in the shadowed crooks of the weathered red thing. When it doesn’t, you force yourself to be brave and head down to the living room, wrapping yourself in blankets with your front facing the entrance.

You resume your show but pay only half attention to it, jumping when there’s a loud crash in a scene. Hand to your heart, you pant at the scare, dissolving into a disbelieving laugh.

“I’m an idiot,” you state to no one. “I’m scaring myself.”

You splay yourself on the couch and breathe, rationalizing.

“This is Bucky’s fault,” you say matter-of-factedly. “He’s the one who chose home invasion horror when he was leaving me home alone the night after.”

You stare at your keyboard, rubbing off a smudge on the space key.

“I hate home invasion horror,” you mutter, running a hand down your face.

“This is pathetic,” you lecture. “What am I reduced to?”

Bravely, you stand, taking your computer with you to the kitchen.

You’re gathering a ridiculous amount of oily cookie cutters in your oven-warmed apartment when you hear it again, louder and more startling than the previous times. You flinch, a multitude of colorful molds tumbling to the floor in your startlement.

You leave them in exchange for paying attention. Slowly, you slink over to the door, peeking through the peephole to see nothing. Now confused, you pull the door open, greeted with silence and an empty hallway.

You walk away once you shut the door with heavy hesitation, shoving warm cookies into your mouth, unsure.

Trying to be rational, you type out a short text contorting your panic into something a little more playful, your thumb hovering above the send button just as you remember Sam’s warning. Isn’t this what he meant? Silly requests that interrupt Bucky’s good time?

You stop, deleting everything you’d written and flipping your phone screen down on the kitchen island. Everything was fine, you were sure.

It’s juxtaposingly pleasing and frightening to hear it the next time; both disappointing and reassuring that your mind wasn’t making things up. The intervals between the noise get shorter, too, until it’s less than a half hour after the last, and you’re buzzing with paranoia.

You text your scariest friend first, anxiously waiting for Sent to turn Read below your message to Natasha, but it never does.

It takes half an hour and the noise to come back before you give up on her, instead watching Wanda’s three little dots pulse before they settle on an apology because she’s on a date.

Tony and Bruce are out of town for some convention and Thor is on vacation, meaning you’ve officially run out of friends to call for help.

Your fear builds until you can’t help yourself, powered by thorough panic when you click on your first contact number. It’s only a couple tones before Bucky answers.

“Hello?”

“Hey, so, no big deal, but there’s something scratching at the door and I’m worried for my life.”

“What?”

“This is your fault,” you cry. “It’s the movies, I—”

“It’s probably the neighbor’s kids playing tricks on you. You know they’re assholes.”

“But I’ve gone outside and there’s no one there. There’s no way they can run that fast, right?”

“Maybe?”

“Look, I’m really freaked out,” you admit. “I really don’t want to bother you but Nat isn’t answering and Wanda’s out on a date and it keeps coming back and—”

“Okay, hey,” Bucky’s voice comes through a little clearer, paying more attention. “It’s okay. I’ll come back, okay?”

“I’m sorry.” You feel bad. You feel so bad your skin prickles with regret, suddenly willing to stand out in the hallway and let your monster eat you alive.

“Don’t be.” You can feel the comforting nudge he gives you when he’s reassuring. “I was about to call you anyway, this is as bad as I remembered it being.”

You manage a weak laugh. “Thank you,” you say genuinely.

“Thank me by not asking questions when I somehow get there in three minutes, okay?”

You furrow your brows. “What? How would you—”

“I think that’s a question,” Bucky interrupts.

“You left already,” you conclude. “Why did you leave early?”

“I think it’s unfair you can do that.”

“I think it’s hypocritical of you to say that.” Your near peace dissipates when something scrapes down the length of your door. Uselessly, you duck down behind the kitchen island. “Are you here yet?” It’s more of a beg than anything, a longing for the sound to be his clumsy fingers with a dodging key.

“Elevator. Which means—” His voice fizzles predictably, inspiring a fresh surge of hate for the machine. A few expected seconds tick by, a click cutting them off.

“What—” You tap your phone angrily. “I hate this stupid building—”

The noise returns, sharp and close and angrier than you’d heard it. You’re only slightly comforted by the thought that Bucky should be nearby, mainly in vehement disagreement with your fate. You curl your fingers around a rolling pin and crawl closer to the door, nails digging into your palms at the close proximity of your aggressor.

The door flies open and you jump up in tandem. “Don’t! My best friend is really big and he’ll beat you up!”

Bucky stands in the doorway, blue eyes rounded, palms up and open.

You pant together for a moment, before your limbs relax in relief, rolling pin tumbling to the ground as you fall into his chest. “Oh my god.”

Automatic, his hands steady around your waist. He says your name in question, pulling you closer anyway.

“What was that?”

“I thought—I thought it was the thing.”

“The thing?”

“I don’t know what it is Bucky, that’s why I called you,” you snap, digging your nose deeper into his neck.

“I didn’t see anything outside,” he offers.

You deflate at his saccharinity. “I’m sorry. That was mean. Thank you for coming.”

“It’s okay,” he laughs, smoothing his palm over your back. It’s a comforting weight, his lovely tolerance of you endearing, although he’d frown at your choice of words. You pull away but stay at his side, laying your head on his shoulder. Your phone rings and you make no move to answer it. He looks at you questioningly.

“I left voicemails in case I died,” you explain, watching Clint’s contact picture flicker. “It might’ve been an exaggeration but look how late they’re calling. What if it were a dire situation? How useless would they be?” You fist your hand in his jacket. “I’m glad I have you.”

“You didn’t leave me a voicemail,” Bucky complains. “You never called in the first place. Whaf if you had died? What about me?”

“I called you.”

“To come here. No goodbye message.”

“It wasn’t a goodbye so much as fear-spurred insurance—”

“Well, how come I didn’t get one?”

“For one, you answered the phone. For two, I knew I’d be fine if you said you’d come. And for three, I knew you’d come if I asked.”

Bucky quiets. “I would.”

“You did,” you agree. 

Something shifts. Subtle and sweet, his heat on your skin isn’t all that casual anymore. He notices, too, shifting lightly on his feet, the weight of his fingers on your waist definitely heavier.

“So,” he starts. “I’m really big, huh?”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes ff #bucky barnes fanfiction fluff #bucky barnes fanfic fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes fanfic funny #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic fluffy #bucky barnes fic funny #bucky barnes fic fluff #best friend!bucky #best friend!bucky barnes #best friend!bucky barnes x reader #best friends to lovers

[buckrecs]

ur account is my absolute go to!!! any chance u could rec biker!bucky fics 🥺🥺🥺

Biker!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Wanted by @jadedvibes

You consider ending things with Bucky after seeing a girl come on to him, but it's not that easy, and you get a hard reminder about who he really wants in the clubhouse bathroom.

Best Friends? Nah. by @wicked-mind

Classic best friends don’t realize feelings for each other until someone points it out.

Business as Usual by @world-of-aus

Not My Babe by @avecra

After a nasty break up to a nearly two year relationship, you find yourself dragged to a bar by your best friend, though a familiar blue-eyed biker makes the best of your crappy situation.

rough around the edges by @wndalovebot

Let Me Love You Old School by @mysecretlittlelibrary

Bucky meets you at a diner and plans to sweep you completely off your feet.

The Bogeyman and Other Monstrosities by @pellucid-constellations

As the local biker club president, Bucky Barnes had a reputation for being tougher than nails and feared by many—he’d never be caught dead at a halloween street fair. Too bad his best girl always got what she wanted.

Waiting Game by @buckychrist

You knew being associated with one of the most notorious and dangerous biker gangs in the city was bad, let alone scandalously dating their kingpin in secret, but you never thought you’d have to face those consequences. Until now.

Home by @all1e23

Bucky runs into his ex at a winter carnival the MC is helping host, but she didn’t come alone.

Whatever It Takes by @sgtjbuccky

Bucky Barnes knows the way to drive you up the wall in frustration, fed up with it, you show him that you know how to play just the same.

deny me by @drewbarymore

In which you feel like Bucky’s ashamed of you.

Drunk, Dumped and Empty by @green-eyeddragonfanfiction

After a nasty breakup, you go out drinking. After an absolute creep hits on you, you’re saved from a concussion by a mysterious, kind man, who reveals himself to be Bucky Barnes. The bar you’re in is a bit suspect, but you never expected him to be head of a biker gang.

yayo by @sergeantxrogers

“I need you safe. I need you here, and I need you safe, and I need, God please, I need you to let me in, baby, just let me in and I promise I’ll make it all better,” his broken voice pleaded through the door.

Drabble by @fandoms-writings

Biker!Bucky x tattooed!reader

hot and cold by @bucksfucks

you & bucky had never gotten along, but when your ex-boyfriend ransom turns up at the same bar you’re at, bucky goes to every length to protect you.

How To Get Away With Murder by @empyreanwritings

Bucky was always good at helping you clean up your messes, which is why he doesn't bat an eye when you show up on his doorstep covered in your abusive boyfriend's blood.

Hush by @buckysknifecollection

Bucky finds a stray kitten but he doesn’t know anything about cats. A friendly librarian helps him out.

little favors by @onceuponastory

Since Bucky saved her from her shitty boss, Y/N hasn’t seen him again. For a while, she gets closer and closer to giving up hope. Until he comes back. And this time, he’s asking for her help.

SERIES

Swallow by @all1e23

Since he was fifteen years old, Bucky Barnes has only been sure of two things; the club should be the most essential thing in his life, and he’d burn it all down for you.

Delicate Edges by @wkemeup

Your family’s beloved flower shop was not the only thing you inherited when your parents passed. Trapped under a mountain of debt to the Hydra club, you bear the cost of your father’s desperate bargain. It’s only in moments when the charming Bucky Barnes walks into your shop that you can forget the cruelty of the biker clubs of this town. But a war is brewing. The border is crumbling. You're trapped in the middle. And Bucky will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

For The Best by @metalbuckaroo

Bucky is tired of waiting for you to realize what you're doing. He does the only thing he can think of to break the cycle.

White Horses by @whitewolfbumble

Kicked out of school and exiling yourself in a town time forgot, one little incident lands the sights of the locally infamous Avengers biker gang square on you. Wild horses run faster and there was no chance to turn back now.

Howlin’ For You by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

When Y/N gets an unreal deal on her first home, she wonders why her neighbor scared away all the other buyers. Despite being cautious, she wonders why the town has given Bucky Barnes a bad name.

Brotherhood & Bullets by @rookthorne

The 107th motorcycle club has been the protector of their collective hometown for many, many years - shouldering all the bloodshed and loss that came with it. Little did you know, you'd become the President's own twisted version of an angel on his shoulder; the tips of your angelic wings tinged red by your own demons.

Stars & Stripes, Studs & Spikes by @buckyismybicycle

The crew has always been tight, but you and Bucky are best of friends. When Bucky sees Brock's mark on you, he nearly loses it and wants to end Brock for good. But, there's something more important - keeping you safe.

call me baby by @cherryrogers

Returning to Brooklyn for the summer after a year of travelling from city to city, you hadn’t expected to find your best friend, Peggy Carter, hopelessly in love with a biker, and when she decided to introduce you to the rest of his club, you hadn’t expected to fall for one either — that was until you met one with pretty eyes and a habit of calling you baby.

Masterlist by @angrythingstarlight

Masterlist by @metalbuckaroo

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #biker!bucky #bucky barnes modern au #biker!bucky x reader #bff!bucky #best friend!bucky #bucky x florist!reader #neighbor!bucky

[hopelessromantic423]

Bookstores and Meg Ryan

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and your best friend, Bucky Barnes, take an outing to the bookstore where you just happen to find your ex perusing the isles. Bucky takes it upon himself to let your ex know that you aren’t interested.

It was your usual Sunday morning. A nice brunch was served at the compound, per Tony's request for everyone to attend and now the team was heading to their perspective relaxation practices.

You came over for the day, per Bucky's invitation and the rest of the teams persistent questions on if you were coming. You were basically apart of the team without doing all the heavy lifting.

Dressed in your favorite white sundress, you leaned against Bucky's doorway with a gleam in your eye. A smirk spreading to your lips as you stared at Bucky sitting on the edge of his bed reading a novel.

"Hey Buck," you called from his doorway. Bucky quickly glanced up from his book and smiled at the sight in front of him.

"Hey shortcake." His soft but gruff tone filled the air of the room as he spoke.

"Leave for Bookstore in ten?"

"Bookstore in ten," he replied with a satisfied look on his face.

The air was the perfect temperature as you and Bucky walked along the sidewalk and into the bookstore down the street. For a Sunday evening, the bookstore was pretty empty. When walking in you scanned the small crowd and found someone you hoped to never see again.

"Shit," you said while turning away and into Bucky's chest.

"What?" He questioned in a panic. "What's wrong?" A protective hand wrapped around your back, pulling you towards him. His eyes darted to every corner of the store looking for danger.

"My ex is standing in historical fiction."

Bucky peered over the bookshelves to see a head of shaggy blonde hair.

"Is that the guy who broke up with you during a mission?"

"That's the one."

"He even looks like jerk. I mean look at his-" Bucky’s heated tone was prevalent as he spoke, still keeping his eyes on the blonde headed man.

"Okay grandpa, that's enough,” you said while placing your hand on his chest.

"Do you want to go?"

"I think that would be best," you sighed.

"Y/N?" A voice said from across the aisle.

"Oh hey Jack, crazy seeing you here.”

Your eyes met Bucky’s with a nervous energy. "This is Bucky,” you said while motioning to him. Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist firmly with a smile, his free hand sat in the pocket of his jeans.

"fiancé," Bucky stated confidently with a smile.

Jack, the guy who broke up with you in the middle of a mission, looked surprised that you would have a fiancé which lit the fire in you even more.

"Congratulations,” Jack said in a fake tone, “How did you propose?"

"It was actually on New Years, right sweetheart?” Bucky looked down at you with a sweet expression. “I got down on one knee in front of all our friends and family."

Bucky pulled you in by your waist firmly, trying to show as much public affection without making you turn and punch him right in the romance section of the store.

"It was so... romantic." Putting on your best "lucky in love" daze that you had seen in so many romance films, you wrapped both of your arms around Bucky's waist. Bucky placed a short kiss on the top of your head as he pulled you close.

"Then I told her the big spiel from the end of When Harry Met Sally, her all time favorite movie. You know, the one where Harry talks about finding the person you want to spend the rest of your life with?"

"I though you liked You've got Mail?"

You shook your head with your lips pressed together. You hearing him say that stung because you would talk about when Harry met Sally all the time when together. If anyone could get on your bad list, it would be mixing up the masterpieces that were Meg Ryan movies.

Bucky cut the tension like a knife. "Anyways, she said yes and the rest is history. It was,” Bucky took a breath ‘reminiscing’, “perfect."

You nodded assuringly while death glaring at Jack hoping he would just leave so this act could end. Although, you did enjoy the feeling of Bucky’s hands on your waist and the small kisses he placed on your forehead every few minutes.

"I'm glad you found someone Y/L/N. Well, I must be going now. It was nice to see you." Jack waved goodbye and walked away, leaving you and Bucky waiting for him to turn the corner so you could utter any words.

"You okay?" Bucky's tone was soft as he looked down at you. His hands still ghosting your waist as you stood together.

"Yea, I um.. just didn't expect to see him here. Or anywhere this side of the Atlantic."

As you trailed down the row of books, you and Bucky's hands were still intertwined as the two of you continued to walk. It was odd but comforting, like it was a day to day activity. It was the two of you perusing the bookstore shelves and coincidentally holding hands, with no intent of letting go anytime soon. It felt normal, which was hard to find in the crazy lives you lived.

Thoughts trailed your brain since the last conversation ended, they were rampant. You stopped and whipped around to face Bucky who was looking at the back of a book with roses on the cover.

"In an alternate universe where we're lovers... is that how you would propose?"

Bucky thought for a moment, his eyes turning a dark blue as he thought. Sadly, the two of you had to drop your hand-holding while Bucky put the rose covered book back on the shelf. The corners of his lips curled slightly while thinking of this alternate universe.

"Probably, I'd add a few things though."

"Like what?"

"Don't get your hopes up, this is an alternate universe we're talking about."

Your cheeks became red thinking about a life where you and Bucky were together. You tried your best to keep your smile to minimum as you said, "Oh I know, I know. It's just... keep that thought in your brain."

Bucky’s eyes went wide with his eyebrows scrunching together with a questionable look. His couldn’t hold his fake frown because the corners of his lips turned up as he followed you down another aisle.

The curiosity on Bucky's expression made you giggle. You couldn't tell if he was terrified at the thought or thinking you were completely and utterly insane for even suggesting such a thing. It was probably a little bit of both.

"In case we need a free dessert silly,” you quipped before skipping to the next shelf, leaving Bucky smiling like an idiot in the fiction aisle.

#bucky barnes #best friend!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #Bestfriend!bucky Barnes x reader #fanfictions #marvel #bestfriendtrope #bucky barnes fluff

[botnasty]

Part One: I Heard A Theory

Roommate!Bucky Barnes X F!Reader

Summary: Bucky heard an interesting theory about cum…

Words: 1,4K words

Warnings: SMUT, mention of oral F, ORAL (M), slight praise and degradation kink, slight daddy kink (like I just mention daddy once at the end lol)

Note: All mistakes are mine and please tell me if I’m missing any warnings. And also don’t be shy, if anyone wants to become mutual, just come into my inbox :)

Not proofread

Part Two

Series Masterlist

You groaned as you banged your head against the desk. The vibration making your open laptop shake and a few pencils falling to the carpet of your bedroom. It was exam week and you were exhausted. All you’ve been doing for the past day is wake up, study and eat. A very problematic routine, but it had to be done if you wanted to raise your grades.

You looked up to your laptop, your chin rested on the wood, as you looked at, what felt, hundreds of tabs open. Your laptop was so hot and loud from the overuse, you were pretty sure it was gonna explode if you used it for another second.

Just like your brain.

It was so fried you felt like you were getting dumber by the second.

A knock on the door is what makes you lean back into your chair. You turned around and smiled when you saw your roommate and best friend Bucky Barnes. He had been your best friend since middle school, so it was very fitting to move in with him when you both went to college. While you were studying medicine, he was in the art world. His dream is to become a tattoo artist, which is why his left arm is covered in tattoos.

“Hey, toots, haven't seen you in a while!” The man exclaimed as he went straight for your bed and layed on in.

“Hey, Buck, yeah sure make yourself at home.” You sarcastically said to him as you went back to your textbook.

“Well, if we are being honest here, this is technically my home, toots.”

You waved your hand at him. “Yeah, yeah.”

You jumped when you saw the pencils that felt down poking at you. Bucky had picked them for you with a big smile. “Thank you.” You grabbed them from his hands and went to your book.

As you tried to read, you couldn’t help but glance at Bucky who was still laying down on your duvet, his phone in his hand. His other hand lay on his lap, very very close to his crotch. Bucky was one hell of a man, a man you had a severe attraction to, you couldn’t lie to yourself, but never would you jeopardize your friendship.

Not until he does the first move.

You groaned as you went back to your textbook, now annoyed at the fact you were getting turned on at this moment. Your mind was flashing your image of you two, in bed, very much naked. Pictures of his big hands on your skin, his long finger inside your cunt and his tongue circling around your clit.

Your head banged once again against your desk at the flashes. Your clit was now throbbing and you needed for Bucky to get out so you could take care of it.

You heard rustling being you and a hand patting your head. “You okay in that head of yours.” Bucky laughed. “You should probably take a break before you become dumber instead of smarter.”

“This is probably the best idea you’ve ever gotten, ever.” You mumbled in your book. “I do feel stupid.”

“Well, you know. I read somewhere that if you drink cum from a smart person, you become smarter.” He suddenly said, biting the inside of his cheek, as if he was waiting for your reaction.

Your head rose up and you turned around to look at the man. “The fuck is you talking about?” Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

Bucky raised his hand up, like a sign of defeat, and looked at you with an innocent gaze. “Just saying what I read.”

You glare at him. Him and his perverseness will be the death of you. “Oh, and what is the name of your source? Is it trustworthy?” You tell him nonchalantly, slightly amused by this conversation and aroused at the same time.

“Well…” He bopped his head as he continued. “I would say, I’m pretty trustworthy.”

This made you laugh.

You shook your head. “Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. What am I gonna do with you?”

“Suck me off?” He innocently said.

You shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant, when on the inside your heart was jumping around. “Sure.” You got up your chair and got on your knees in front of his closed legs.

Bucky seemed to be in a daze, completely caught out guard. “What?”

“Open your leg, baby. I’m gonna suck your cock.” You tap his thick thighs and part them. As you pulled down a little his grey sweatpants could swear you heard him say ‘fuck me’ under his breath. You licked your lips when you saw the outline of his cock under his sweatpants. He must not be wearing boxers which made your cunt squeeze and gush with wetness.

When you fully pulled them down, you gasped when you saw his cock slap against his stomach. He was so long and girthy, you were scared he wasn’t gonna fit in your mouth, but when you saw the pulsing vein on the side of his cock, you couldn’t help but lick your lips before placing a kiss on it.

You grabbed the base and pulled his cock closer to your mouth as you kissed it all over. On the base first and licking your way up to the tips. You smirked when you felt him twitch in your hand. “Fuck, toots. Such a fucking tease.” Bucky whimpered as he threw his head back. His hand goes to the base of your neck, gripping it with such force to keep you there.

You licked your lips when you saw pre-cum oozed out of the tip. You couldn’t wait to taste. You wrapped your lips around the tip and french kissed it, your tongue licking the cum. You moaned around his cock, when you finally got a taste of him.

“Please, stop teasing. Please.” Bucky was now begging you, but never did he push down your head so you would swallow more. He was going at your pace and you appreciate him more for that.

You could hear him beg in his breath and that was what made you snap. You opened your jaw more and swallowed him down the tip of his cock touching the back of your throat. You gagged a little before bopping your head up and down, this time with the help of Bucky. He had now placed both of his hands on your head and was pushing your head up and down his cock, all while he was moaning and grunting.

“So fucking good, baby. So warm and wet.” He praised you and you could feel your juice running down your thighs. You were so turned on by his cock and his praise that you couldn’t help but bring one of your hands down to your cunt. You pulled your panties to the side and started rubbing circles around your clit.

You looked up at Bucky and you saw his eyes darken when he saw what you were doing. “You fucking whore. Is sucking my dick that much of a turn on. My good fucking whore.” You eyes widen. He pulled your arm up and put your gush-covered fingers inside of his mouth. You were sure you could’ve been able to cum just by that and the sound he made when he tasted you.

You whined when Bucky pulled your head up, his cock sliding out of your mouth. “Open your mouth and close your eyes, baby.” He grabbed his cock and rubbed it up and down. He was glistening with your saliva. “Fuck, it’s coming, toots. Hope your ready.”

“Give it to me, daddy.” And you opened your mouth. He let out a loud moan at what you called him and rubbed faster. You shivered when you felt his cum landing inside of your mouth, on your cheeks and eyelid.

You heard him laugh as you swallowed his load. “So, do you feel smarter?”

You swiped the cum that landed on your cheek with your finger and sucked on them loudly. A whine escaped Bucky’s mouth. “Well, I do feel more relaxed than before that’s for sure.”

He brought you closer to him and kissed your lips. “Well, wanna know what else I heard.”

“What?” You said mindlessly, your eyes focused on his lips, almost pleading him to kiss you once again.

“I read that there is a better chance to get smarter: if you let someone cum inside of you. Wanna test that theory?”

Thank you for reading and feel free to repost or comment what you think :)

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[jadedvibes]

Always (IV)

Summary: Bucky realized he could lose you for good, so he caught a red-eye flight to make sure that wasn’t possible.

Pairing: best friend!Bucky x reader

Warnings: lots of fluffy feels, very minor angst with the happiest ending, vague allusions to future sensuality, swearing, pet names.

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Thank you to all that followed along on this little mini-series! Angst isn’t my strong suit, so that's why I really appreciated all your support while I gave it a try! Hope ya'll enjoy this final part ♡

Series Masterlist

Like, comment, and/or reblog to put a giant smile on my face ♡

After getting off the phone with you, Bucky had a revelation. He realized that the longer he was away from you, the worse off things could be. He felt you slipping through the cracks. And he sat there for a long while imagining what it would be like if you met some “Mr. Right” tomorrow. 

His heart constricted at the thought of you moving forward with someone else, while his soul still belonged to you. The thought of having to spend the rest of his life pretending that he was happy for you, seeing you fall for some schmuck that didn’t deserve you – he just couldn’t do it. 

He refused to truly let you go. He knew he’d never love another as completely as he loved you. The thought of being with someone else made him feel sick, and that had to mean something. You said you didn’t know whether it was too late to be with him, but Bucky decided that it wasn’t. 

It wasn’t too late, it would never be too late, because you belonged with him. He just needed you to see that. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he picked up his phone and called Steve as he completed a quick booking of a plane ticket on his laptop. His mind was on autopilot, he only knew that he needed to get to you. 

Steve groaned into the phone, sounding like he’d just woken up. “What’s wrong?” 

“Hey buddy…best pal. I need a ride to the airport.”

“Dude it’s nearly midnight,'' Steve grumbled. 

“I know but listen, I’ve gotta go see my girl, and time is of the essence. You’re right around the corner.”

“Shit, is Y/N okay?” Steve inquired, his voice laced with concern. 

Bucky bit back a smile, his other best friend knew exactly who his girl was. Why’d it have to take him so long to realize it? It didn’t matter, he knew it now. 

“She’s fine, don’t worry. I just really need to see her, I’ll explain on the way,” he huffed out, haphazardly throwing clothes into a duffel bag. 

Bucky heard Steve shuffling with his keys, heading out of his door and into his car. 

“Fine, but I'm the best man at the wedding. And this is going into my speech, and I’m also throwing in all the fun details you kept from her. Like when you beat up that prick that stood her up at Freshman Formal.” Steve started his car.

“She doesn’t need to know about that and he threw the first punch.”

“He sucked, but you didn’t have to go all Brooklyn brawler on his ass.”

Bucky sighed, that guy hurt your feelings and he didn’t regret what he did for a second. “Agree to disagree. Are you here yet?”

“Just pulling up.”

“Great, you can annoy me on the way while I try to figure out what I’m going to do.”

┈┈┈┈┈・・

His tongue took no prisoners as it swiped through your lips. Uninhibited need pulsating off of him as he kissed you with so much intensity and adoration. You met his passion, everything finally making sense for the first time in a month. He was all you needed, he would always be everything you needed. 

His grip on your face tightened as he tilted your head, deepening the kiss as he walked you backwards, until your body met the wall. “Tell me it’s not too late for us, honey,” he whispered before kissing you again. 

“Mm, it’s not,” you murmured against his lips, hands falling to his firm chest. 

Bucky pulled back to meet your gaze, relief written all over his features.

“Yeah?” he grinned. 

Snaking your arms around his neck, you pecked his lips before looking into his hopeful deep blue eyes. “Yeah, B. I never should’ve left.” 

“I never should have let you go,” he shook his head.

“I was gonna call and tell yo–” He gently trailed kisses down your jaw, to your neck, before slowly returning to your lips, savoring your taste. You melted into him, desire and longing overtaking both of your senses. A mutual dream actualized. 

“Marry me,” he suddenly blurted out, a soft smirk on his lips.

Raising your eyebrows in surprise, “B! Not before I date you,” you giggled.

“Oh alright, later then,” he chuckled under his breath, his eyes alight with amusement. He was only sort of joking, although deep down he would’ve been more than happy if you agreed. 

“Can I take you out on a date?”

“Right now?” You looked at him, taking in the faint dark circles under his eyes. If his brain was anything like yours, and you knew that it was, he hadn’t slept much if at all on his trip over.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and get in bed, or take a shower, whatever you want. I’ll whip up a couple omelettes and then we can take a nap?” you offered, knowing that you both needed just that.

“Omelettes don’t count as our first date, right? Because I sort of have plans for that.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes at your silly best friend. “No, B. Go settle in, I’ll be up soon.”

“Okay, honey,” he nodded, realizing he could use the rest. Adrenaline had kept him up, and he needed to come down. “I’ll go put my stuff upstairs and grab a quick shower. But I think I’ll pop over a few doors down to grab us that chamomile latte you’re always telling me about. I think we could both use a comforting drink before a nap,” he smiled. 

“Sounds perfect,” you beamed. He always remembered the little things you loved; he made it so easy to fall in love with him. 

┈┈┈┈┈・・

The two of you happily ate at your breakfast bar, sipping your drinks and sitting close to one another. It had been a long time since you’d felt so at peace. 

“I think this has been the longest I’ve gone without seeing you in person in four years,” Bucky sighed. “It sucked,” he bumped his shoulder against yours. 

You smiled at him, it really did. In fact, that was an understatement. You briefly thought about discussing how rough it was being apart from him, but you had a much better question to ask.

“Soo does this make you my boyfriend?” you grinned. The thought making your heart race because it sounded so foreign, yet it felt entirely right. 

Bucky tilted his head, biting his lip as he looked at you. “Could be fiancé, honey. Just say the word. I quit my job, and I think I’d make an excellent house husband.”

You let out a laugh, taking in his exaggerated serious expression. He was kidding, but when you smiled like that, he felt how easily he could spend the rest of his life making you laugh. It’d be as easy as breathing. 

Because he could, he tilted your chin up and kissed you, just a little to hold him over for a short while. 

Sighing into the kiss, your lips ghosted over his before you remembered what he said. “Wait, you didn’t actually quit did you?” you asked to be sure. 

“Dad was pissed,” he closed the distance and bit your lip. “But now I can focus on being a good house boyfriend for you.”

“B,” you pulled back so that you could look at him. “I don’t want you to give up the family business.”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged because he really didn’t. As long as he had you, nothing else mattered. 

“Well hopefully you can apologize and get your job back because I want to move back. Plus, I know I would make the perfect housewife,” you smirked. 

Bucky shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “So you are marrying me then?” 

“Wait, I meant– I just meant I want to move back to New York.” 

Bucky grinned, he wasn’t expecting that. “Why don’t you move in with me?” he asked casually. 

You furrowed your brows. “Because we’ve been dating for like two minutes…” 

“C’mon, I have the space. Maybe, you could keep this place that way. We’d be able to visit your family whenever you want.” 

“Hmm, that's a compelling offer,” you nodded. That would simplify your life a whole lot; his loft was spacious and terrific, and that way you wouldn’t have to move all over again. You’d be able to stay at your job and go back to him easily once you found a solid place to transfer to. 

There was also the fact that he was your person, had been for a long while, and taking this next step felt natural. Moving in with Bucky was jumping ahead a few steps, but you knew him, better than yourself sometimes – it would be a fun adventure. 

“Think about it, I heard living in sin is the new thing,” he kissed your temple before getting up and clearing the dishes. 

You blinked in surprise, your minor internal debate tabled for a moment. “We haven’t even sinned yet!”

“There’s still time,” he winked. 

┈┈┈┈┈・・

Your eyes roamed over his strong arms that were wrapped tightly around you, holding you to him. The long nap was much needed, the cuddling and the passionate kisses were an excellent bonus. 

Throughout the years you had taken many naps with Bucky. Sometimes it was easier to take power naps in between classes and during stressful times together, no one having to inconveniently go back to their place. But this time it was so different.

The way he held you, the way he looked at you, like you were the most beautiful person in the world. How he could convey such emotion through a simple look, you couldn’t comprehend. He wondered how you managed to do the same when your brilliant eyes gazed at him with immeasurable love and admiration. 

You could tell he was restraining himself from pursuing more, but your best friend/boyfriend was nothing if not respectful, and you thought about what it would be like to live with him. Waking up beside him every day, getting to kiss him, and move onto that sinning he mentioned. It would become so addicting, just as his soft touches and sweetness had already become.

Before you could picture it some more, Bucky shifted towards you, rolling onto his side and facing you in his sleep. He looked so peaceful. 

You took in his handsome features and reveled in the warmth permeating off his body – you could get used to all of it. 

“I love you, honey,” he mumbled before unconsciously pulling you closer. 

You closed your eyes and realized that your mind was made up. You were moving in with him, and this would be your new normal soon. You just had to find the right time to tell him. 

┈┈┈┈┈・・

You felt your heart flutter when Bucky looked down at you. Squeezing your hand, he gave you a broad, charming smile. “Are you still with me, honey?” 

“Hmm?” you bit your lip as you met his gaze. 

Bucky let out a laugh. “I asked if you wanted to grab a coffee before heading back.” 

“Oh, yeah that sounds great,” you wrapped your free hand around his bicep. “Sorry, I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” you admitted. 

“I still can’t believe you agreed,” he beamed, his brain not fully caught up with the fact that you were his. He was treating this like a first date, and he was doing his best to woo you. 

He’d taken you out for a late lunch, a short stop at a little bookstore he knew you’d love, and another pit stop at a local ice cream shop that reminded him of a similar one you used to go to together. You told him that the date felt reminiscent of your usual hangouts, which you really appreciated, and he conceded with – “Yes, but this time it’s even more special because I get to hold your hand.”

He’d spent a good chunk of his flight researching the best places to take you in your area. Before you told him you were hoping to move back, he had already planned a day to show you how comfortable he was with moving for you. Because no matter where you lived, he’d be fine as long as you were together. 

As you stood in line to get coffee, Bucky took your hand in his and kissed the back of it. Pesky butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you allowed yourself to get swept up in him. The guy that your heart knew it needed somehow truly wanted you too. 

After ordering, he lead you to a seat at the coffee bar. Helping you hop up onto the bar stool before sitting beside you. 

“Seems like someone really wants this date to keep going, huh B?” you teased. At every point that you thought the date was over, he suggested going somewhere else close by to extend it. 

A faint blush crept up his face. “Can you blame me?” he brushed his thumb along your cheekbone. “I missed you so much, and I really can’t believe this is happening. So excuse me for wanting this first date to be the very best,” he grumbled playfully. 

You shook your head with a grin. “I really really missed you too. So much that I applied for a transfer and have been looking into work back near you.”

“Wow,” he smiled, you really were coming back to him. The barista called out his name, and he left to bring over your drinks before he could tell you how happy he was.  

You took the opportunity to check your email because the New York office requested additional documents to go along with your transfer request earlier in the day and you wanted to ensure it went through okay. 

Tears filled your eyes when instead of further follow up information, you read that somehow the transfer for your exact position had been accepted. The chances of this happening so quickly was practically out of the question, and you could only silently thank the divine source that intervened to make it possible. 

“Hey,” Bucky quickly set down the coffees once he saw your emotional expression. “Honey, what’s wrong?” he gently grabbed your free hand, his blue eyes brimming with concern.

“You’re officially getting a new roommate,” you sniffled before smiling. 

Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat. “You’re moving in?” 

You nodded your head enthusiastically, shocked and thrilled by the news. “I got the transfer.”

Without warning, he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you madly right there in the coffee shop. 

Your brain went foggy as your tongue moved along with his – time standing still, or passing by in a blur, you couldn’t really tell. 

“I love you so damn much, honey,” he finally mumbled against your lips when the need for air became too strong. 

“I know,” you smiled, exhaling a breath. “I’ll always love you, B,” you tugged him back towards you, connecting your lips again. Feeling him smile into the kiss, you couldn’t help but grin as you kissed him deeply. 

From stressful late library sessions, to all-nighters and warm bonfires, Bucky was your truest constant. 

In time your best friend turned boyfriend would become your fiancé then husband; sooner than you expected and to the surprise of no one. You’d hear new stories about the ways Bucky quietly watched out for you in college from Steve and Sam, the best men at your wedding. Reaffirming the way he silently loved you through all of his actions – and you loved him all the more for it. 

He’d hear stories from Natasha and Wanda, your maids of honor, about all the times they knew you only had eyes for him, a fact you hadn’t realized was so obvious.

Somehow in the end your wish upon that star came true, and you were beyond grateful that you let yourself believe in it. Because now you couldn’t imagine a reality in which you weren't happily married to your best friend – where the love you shared was ever present and built upon the strongest foundation, where it would never waver, no matter the circumstance.

The end. 

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