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#bucky fanfiction
imwall-e · 2 days
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My SuperHero
Pairing : Dad!Bucky x Mom!Reader
Summary : Your son wants be someone special for Halloween.
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Bucky always thought he was a monster, that he didn't deserve happiness. It changed when he met you. When you said yes. When you became Mrs Barnes. And when you gave him a child. A son. Still, the thoughts were here sometimes. Haunting him. What stopped them for good was what his son did on the day of Halloween. He only said "Dad, I'm dressing up as my favourite super hero". You and your son didn't want to tell him who it was, even if he was sure it was Captain America or Iron Man. Until he saw the toddler standing in the living room, his left arm made of aluminium, a red star on the shoulder. "Tell your dad what you told me", you said, standing near Bucky. "Dad, you are my favourite superhero."
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simplyholl · 3 months
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A Night With The Winter Soldier
Summary: You’re sent to be Hydra’s test subject for a new serum.
Pairing: F. Reader x Winter Soldier Bucky
Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Dark Bucky. Non con. Oral. Unprotected sex.
See My Masterlist Here
A/N: I know I don’t usually write for Bucky, but this idea has been stuck in my head for a long time. I’m just tagging my regular tag list, if you’re not into dark fics, please skip! ❤️
Fucked. That’s what you were or at least what you were going to be. You shake your head as you cover your skimpy lingerie with the matching robe your mother gave to you.
Your father is the head scientist for Hydra. He had been working on this experiment for years. He had created a serum that would cause Super Soldiers to want to reproduce. The end result would be a perfect Super Soldier baby. He finally perfected it. Who could be a better test subject than his daughter?
You begged him. You pleaded and cried. It was unfair to expect this of you. But he didn’t care how you felt. He said it was your duty to do as you were told. You didn’t want to make Hydra upset with your family, did you? You knew the horrors that awaited you if you refused. Your best friend, Lilly and her whole family disappeared three years ago when her father refused a command from Hydra. They were brutal and cruel. Sadly, you were used to it.
Hydra came first. Before yourself, before your family, your loyalty had to be unwavering. You knew it wasn’t really your father who had suggested it be you. Your mother told you it was one of the higher ups. He had seen you in your new sundress a few weeks ago and thought you would be perfect to carry the first Super Soldier baby.
It made you sick. How could they do this? You didn’t want to know what would happen if you refused. “At least, he is the strongest Super Soldier. This baby’s genes will be impeccable with the both of you for parents.” Your mother reassured you, as if it would help you feel better.
You weren’t naive. You and the baby would be monitored from the moment you got pregnant. As soon as you gave birth, the child would be ripped from your arms and watched closely. It wouldn’t really be yours.
You take the elevator to the thirteenth floor, heart racing wildly. You were scared. You had seen the Super Soldiers behind glass doors where you were protected from them. Now, you were being offered on a silver platter to the biggest baddest one, like a worm on a hook waiting for a fish to jump after them.
Two guards stand outside the door to the windowless room. Their eyes roam over your barely covered body. They smirk at you as they type in the code to let you in. “Good luck, princess. You’re going to need it.” They evilly laugh as the door opens. Slowly, you walk in, your breath catching in your throat as you hear the steel door bang tightly shut behind you.
The room is dimly lit. A leather chair in one corner, a bed pressed against the wall, there’s a table with a half worked puzzle on it. It was so dreary, your heart aches for the poor guy that called this room home. You walk over to the table, running your hand over the puzzle. That’s when you feel it. Even though you couldn’t see him, you’re not alone. He’s in here with you, hid in the dark corners somewhere. You turn around to find him staring at you.
The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, you had demanded to know his name before you did this. His dark hair hung in waves by his cheeks, his cold blue eyes focused on your body. He was beautiful. You weren’t used to seeing him without the black mask he usually wore. He was shirtless, his silver, metal arm catching your attention. You studied it. The way it looks like it was forcefully put on, the red star on his shoulder. He was always silent, brooding in the shadows. You had never been this close to him.
You reach for his face, wanting to feel him before all this started. His metal arm stops you, cold hand wrapping around your wrist. You squeak when he twists your arm behind your back, walking you toward the table.
He presses you against it, you feel his erection threatening to burst out of his black pants. One swipe of his free hand knocks the puzzle to the floor. Colorful pieces scatter all around you. He lifts you on top of the table, the cold surface making you gasp when your bare legs land on it.
Bucky holds you with his metal arm, the other one makes quick work of your flimsy robe. He grabs your breast through the thin fabric of your lingerie. You squirm under his touch as he pinches your nipple through the lace.
“You don’t know how bad I need this. Been a long time since I’ve had a pretty girl like you in my bed.” You’re shocked when he speaks to you. You had been warned that he wouldn’t talk to you at all. He takes a step back to look at you, zeroing in on your panties.
He pushes your back to the wall, commanding you to stay there. You obey, you didn’t want to upset him and make this worse for yourself. He holds your top in one hand, jerking the material. The sound of it’s ripping, startling you. He was crazy strong. The thought of being manhandled by him sounded better by the second.
Next was your panties, he stripped you of them quickly, pulling you by your legs to the edge of the table. He got on his knees before you, shoving his face to your core. He licks one fat stripe up your center, moaning as he tastes you. He swirls his tongue across your clit, you buck your hips up to get closer.
Bucky pushes you down with his metal arm, ensuring that you wouldn’t be able to move. You accept your fate, laying back as he laps at you. He fucks you with his tongue, his nose rubbing expertly against your sensitive nub. The band tightly wound in your stomach snaps as he drags his wicked tongue across your clit, sucking you between his lips. He doesn’t hold back his moans as your arousal floods his face.
When he emerges, his face is glistening because of you. He wipes it off with the back of his flesh hand. Bucky jerks you off the table, pointing to the cold, cement ground. “On your knees.” You sink down in front of him as he sheds his pants. You’re surprised he hadn’t already taken them off.
You shift on your knees, trying to get comfortable. He could at least offer you a pillow to kneel on or something. You look around, and spot the only one on his bed. You’re about to ask for it, when he pulls your hair roughly, jerking your head toward his throbbing cock. It was huge. The kind of big that would hurt. You open your mouth, trying to take all of him inside.
You choke and gag, spit dribbling down your chin onto your breasts as you struggle. He looks down at you, hand still tangled in your hair. Your jaw aches already and he’s just getting started. He thrusts his hips forward, pushing your head down simultaneously. Tears fill your eyes as he hits the back of your throat. You can’t help the sob that escapes you as he pulls out, only to forcefully push his way back in.
His thumbs follow the tears on your cheeks, your mascara pooling under your eyes making you look like a raccoon. “You look so pretty when you cry.” He coos, while looking at you adoringly. He thrusts three more times, your nails dig into his thighs, a silent plea to stop. He finally pulls out, collecting you from the floor and gently placing you on his bed.
He places one leg over his shoulder, lining himself up at your entrance. He pushes inside and it’s too much. “It’s- you’re too big.” You explain. Bucky moves your other leg, spreading you wider. “You’re gonna take all of it.” He grunts, wedging himself inside you, bottoming out with one thrust. He ignores your pained scream, leaning down to lick your fresh tears.
“So tight. So perfect. Just for me.” He praises in your ear. Finally, the pain subsides. Bucky feels incredible, his thick cock dragging against the spot that makes your head swim. A gush of arousal soaks him as he swirls his metal thumb in circles on your clit.
“Look at you, such a good girl, dripping all over my cock.” You moan, clenching around him, your long nails clawing his back, drawing blood as your second orgasm rips through you. His thrusts grow sloppy as you feel him go still inside you. His hot cum, drips down your legs as he withdraws himself from you.
Bucky swipes it with his index finger, rubbing it with his thumb. He brings it to your lips, you swirl your tongue around his long digit, loving the way he tastes. You’re caught off guard when his icy, metal hand collects as much cum as he can, stuffing it back inside you.
You twitch, trying to pull away from the cold hand on your heat. “Ah ah ah.” He scolds. He presses his cool thumb to your clit, toying with the oversensitive pearl. “You have to take every drop.” When he’s satisfied with his work, he makes you lay on your back so it doesn’t drip back out.
You close your eyes, the sweet promise of sleep taking over you. You are almost in dream land when you feel the familiar nudge of Bucky’s cock at your sore center. “What are you doing?” You ask, too tired to fight him. “I’m not finished with you yet, doll.” He smiles wickedly, snapping his hips to fill you again.
Tags
@lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @cakesandtom @eleniblue @marygoddessofmischief @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @wheredafandomat @freegardenbanananeck @lokidokieokie @l0ki3000 @multifandom-worlds @alexakeyloveloki @ladymischief11 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @lamentis-10 @loz-3 @litaloni @lulubelle814 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @avengersfan25 @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @mybugabomlb @bunny24sstuff @luthien-elvenia-asher @gruftiela @asgards-princess-of-mischief @weirdothatwritess
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grugruel · 3 months
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Little Bit
Pairings: roommate!bucky x f!reader
NSFW/MDNI
Masterlist
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Summary: Moving in with your bestfriend always seems like a great idea, until something inevitably breaks you apart. . .
He grabs my jaw, 'I fucking hate you.' He breathes, and I smile against his lips.
'No you don't.' I whisper, 'You love me.'
Word count: 2.7k
Warnings: friends to enemies to lovers, forced proximity, angsty rom-com vibes, praise (reader calls bucky good boy once), I love you's, choking, creampie, rough sex, pinv sex, semi-public masturbation, swearing.
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A soft blue light shone through the windows, the neon sign across from us coloring every reachable piece of the flat a hue of blue.
Sitting on our shared couch, moved in just a week ago. I lay my head in my hands, I too was colored blue.
'How do we fix this?' He asks, sitting in the armchair across from me.
'Us?' I move my hands from my face to look at him with a faint smile, that doesnt quite reach my eyes. The light hitting him somehow fusing into purple, I turned my attention outside, searching for any type of red light.
'How, do we get rid of the flat. . .' He corrects me, forcefully shoving his finger into the coffee table, punctuating the words.
A tinge of sadness sinks it's teeth in me, moving to gnaw on the edges of my mind. Just a few hours ago, he'd still been my best friend. Since childhood, in fact. And now?
'We can't, you know that. We already signed the contract.' I sigh, 'Besides, neither of us have anywhere else to go. Or do I have to remind you?' Crossing my legs, I lean against the back of the couch, Meticulously searching for that red. Perhaps it was just the anger swelling inside him, pushing outward, seeping into his skin and tinting it red. Mixing with the cool of the blue, however, unsuccesfull in calming him.
He clenches his jaw, 'You, don't have anywhere to go.' He points an accusing finger at me, 'I- On the other hand–'
'–Have nowhere to go.' I finish his sentence for him, exhaling it in a whisper, 'We only have eachother now, ironically enough.' I flash my eyebrows upward, the words tasting bittersweet on my tongue.
Reality seems to set in as he too, leans backward and looks out through the window. Now seeming more lost than angry. Nonetheless, he blames me, for. . . what happened. I reach out for him, gracing his knee with the tips of my fingers–
But he pulls back, yanking his knee out of reach for my touch and faces away from me completley. Turning his head over his shoulder, I feel him retracting within himself, tugging all previous feelings and memories with him. He closes his eyes and exhales a shaky breath, 'Dont, I don't know you.' His voice was cold, 'You're nothing more than a roommate, a stranger im forced to share a home with.' Completley devoid of emotion.
My eyes stung with tears, and I hurry past him. Rushing upstairs to the loft, shutting myself in my bedroom.
That was a few weeks ago, the anger and sadness had settled. But in its wake, annoyance and spite had developed.
It felt very much like living with a sibling you hated dearly, a nemesis, your rival. Yet still loved, because of your ties.
'Just get out already!' I groan, stomping my foot into the floor from pure frustration. I felt like a child throwing a tantrum, but he just brought it out of me.
'I'm. Using. It.' He shouted, voice slightly muffled.
'For fu-' I stopped myself, but closed my eyes instead. Reminding myself to be the better person, 'I. Need. It.' I threw his punctuation back at him, 'I have to shower, youre making me late!' I shouted back through the door.
We both had a date, at the same time. Bucky was occupying the shower, it felt like he delayed just to make me late.
Eventually, the door opened and steam poured out of the opening. A cloud of buckys scents wafted in her face, and from it he emerged, with only a towel around his hips. With his bare upperbody on full display.
It's not like I hadn't seen him without a shirt before, but that had been as friends. Buy now that we weren't friends anymore. . . Well, I couldn't help but feel a little something.
He smiled smugly, 'Your turn.'
Oh how I wanted to scream at him, how could someone be so self-satisfied? I frantically gesture with my hands for him to move past me, and the second he did, I threw myself inside.
Finally, the water flooded down my body, every drop doing its duty in soothing an unwelcome ache. Stress and worry washing off of me, sliding into the drain, everything was perfect in this short, shielded time.
It would be over in a moment, when I rejoined the chaos that was my life.
But for now, my hand slipped downward. Quickly finding the source of my ache, and releaved it, rubbing it away in massaging circles. Doing my best to stifle my moans– When involuntarily, an image of Bucky popped up in my mind.
His towel around his hips, the low "V" on full display, his muscles rippling, torso stretching, showcasing his body and toned abs in all their glory. But what if those big hands had grabbed my waist, and pulled me close. What if he sank inside me, how heavenly it must feel. I bit my lip, my fingers moving faster. Realising too late that I was only spurring myself on, I came quickly, doing my best to stifle my moans. Toppling over, I leaned against the shower wall as I caught my breath. Praying I had been quiet enough.
When done, I hurried and dried myself off, then stepped out the shower a wrapped a towel around my torso. I took a quick look in the mirror, making sure that my actions were in no way visible on my face, then opened the door and re-entered the apartment.
The sun was just beginning to set, it was late in the day and the neon light had yet to come on. Golden light filled the apartment as–
Bucky fell onto the couch. . .
Almost looking like he'd jumped over the back of it.
I looked at him strangely, myself acting like I hadn't just touched myself to thoughts of him. 'You ok?' I asked, quirking an eyebrow.
He nodded, and grabbed a pillow, pressing it against his abdomen with an unreadable expression on his face, 'Mhm.' He hummed, 'Just fine, why would't I be?'
A violent urge to strangle him grabbed ahold of me, anger nipping at my skin, I was starting to tire of his passive-agressiveness. I inhaled through my nose, and exhaled through my mouth. Calming myself before I answered, 'You're right, how silly of me to ask. I don't even care.' and headed to my room.
What I did not see, was his eyes following me, lingering on my rosy cheeks and wet hair. Roaming over the bare parts of my skin, noting the way it was riddled with glistening water droplets. Nir had I seen, how he'd walked past the bathroom door earlier and somehow heard my moaning, or that he'd stayed and listened, intently. Sowly becoming more and more aroused. I did however, see a glimpse of him "smoothly" covering his tracks when I opened the door, the old run and jump maneuver. By some miracle, I didn't put the pieces together. Because I had not seen his erection either.
I put on my long, sleek, red satin dress.
It fell perfectly over my body, clinging to every curve. Paired with a pair of nude heels, my legs looked magnificent thorugh the slit too. I walked downstairs, expecting Bucky to make some snide remark, but he was nowhere to be found.
I figured I'd at least let him know im leaving. Presuming he was in his room, I approached it, and could indeed hear him inside.
But I wasnt to sure what to make of the sounds. My subconscious instics must've kicked in, because I reflexively took my heels off and snuck closer. Muffled grunts and slapping came from the other side of the door, they were, lewd almost, kind of like–
My jaw dropped. My name, I heard- I heard my name. He just moaned my name. Surely, this wasnt real, I scoffed internally. He was pranking me, right? Maybe it was an actress, or crush who shared my name? He was gonna open that door any second, jump out and tell me how stupid I was to think such a thing. Yet, something tightened inside me, a dull pulse flaring up.
There was a final groan, then the sound of a zipper. I blinked, frozen. Until I heard footsteps, and forced myself to snap out of it.
Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit! I quickly tiptoed over to the window, pretending to look outside. Realising I still had my heels in my hand, I had to alternate between putting them on and acting nonchalant.
The creaking sound of his door opening rang out behind me, and I yelped, my head whipping over my shoulder to look at him, taken completely off guard.
His eyes went wide as he met mine. His expression made it very clear that he'd expected me to be gone by now. 'Oh–' he clenched his jaw to keep it from falling. Rubbing the nape of his neck, he looked around nervously, 'Thought you'd gone.' He said, irritation lacing his tone, 'Since you were so stressed about being late and all.' He remarked, narrowing his eyes.
God, the gall on this man.
I put my other heel on, and turn around completley, 'Stress that you caused, you mean?' I pointed out, the final rays of sun warming my back as I looked at him, 'Dont worry, I'll leave you to it.' A giggle bubbled up in my throat. I had to suck on my bottom lip to stiffle it and hide my smile.
I turned on my heel and fled, not sticking around to see his reaction.
I couldn't keep him off my mind, surely it was not me he meant, I heard wrong. He hates me, for gods sake!
At that thought, my date picked me up, and the night was pretty uneventful from there. We had dinner and drinks, but something else was occupying my mind. I was just replaying the way my name sounded falling from Buckys lips, the way he breathed it, moaned it. My core ached at the memory.
My date no doubt thought me distant, but it couldnt be helped. I was desperate for the feeling of a man inside me, for bucky more specifically. So I laid my hand on top of my date's, 'How about we take this to my place?' I asked, smiling seductively.
Eagerly, he agrees.
Arriving back, we stumbled into the apartment. Kissing enthusiastically, as the colorful light had returned. Bathing us in a dark red light. Faintly, it illuminated our path upstairs as I grabbed his hand and pulled him to my room. We'd been too busy to notice Bucky, already standing in the kitchen.
Who hadn't had a very succesful date either, the only difference being that he did not bring her back to their place. He respected their home, but apparently she did not. A feeling of anger bubbled up inside him, but it felt different. Not like it had that first night of their fight, now, he almost felt threatened. He scoffed, surely not, noo–
The red switched to green, and his brain thought it before he himself came to the conclusion, was it. . . Jealousy? He furrowed his brows, disputing with his his mind. Never, he hates her gut. Hes been teasing and annoying her, because he hates her. Simple as that. Earlier, today was just a moment of weakness, a man doing his manly obligations. That was all, he told himself and looked outside, the green light poking fun at him. Calling him out in ways he did not appreciate, it was nauseating.
He had to talk to her, go up there and put a stop to it. This was his apartment too, he had a veto.
He marched firmly up the stairs, the green contrasting the red hot anger on his face as the sounds of laughing grew stronger. He reached for the door handle, when he heard their moaning.
Her moaning more specifially, the sound of skin against skin, of a creaking bed and the way it thumped against the wall. His mind blurred the sounds of the other guy, and instead focused on the sound of her, her labored breathing, her whimpering and mewling. Wishing he was that guy right now. He could've listened all day, but snapped out of it. Shaking his head as he realised the immorality of it. He couldnt just barge in on them, he'd tell the guy to fuck off the second they were done. He nodded, yeah. . . His hand fell to his side as he took a step back–
She moaned, so beautiful. Humming, 'Ooh, fuck, thats good bucky.' The words slipped from her lips befor she could stop them.
Buck froze, they all froze. Blinking, he did a dubbel take. Huh?. . . Huuuh?
'I'm, uhm–' She tried.
'What did you just call me?' The guy questioned, 'Is- is that your roommates name?' Dumnfounded, he pulled himself off of her.
Bucky couldnt believe what he was hearing, he snickered 'Holy f— shit.' Unable to controll himself, he burst into pure laughter as he ran down the stairs. Covering his mouth in the motion, spite pouring out of his ears. 'What a marvelous, marvelous day.' He declared openly, throwing himself on the couch, arms splayed over the back. Waiting for the next scene to unfold.
The man, clothes in hand came rushing down the stairs, and noticed Bucky watching him, 'You him?' He asked.
Nodding, 'Uh, huh.' Bucky hummed, confirming the mans suspicious as a cocky smile spread across his face.
'Fantastic.' The stranger hissed, and muttered under his breath. '. . .Some competition. . .' Then fled the apartment, throwing his clothes on in a hurry.
Bucky laughed, 'So good,' and sighed with content, shaking his head in disbelief.
A second later, I came bounding down the stairs, a sheet pulled around my body. 'Did he leave already?' I asked, sprinting to the door.
Grinning, he answered, 'That he did.' Slanting his head in observation as he took her disheveled appearance in.
I run my hands through my hair in frustration, 'Shit!' My head then snapping to Bucky as he's just sitting there, snickering and looking at me smugly. 'What?' I ask, but he only shrugs, smiling stupidly. 'Wipe that smile of your face, you big idiot.' I shout, 'Where's your date, huh?'
Flinching, hes taken aback 'I didn't bring her home! Its called common curtesy!' He shouts back. Both incredibly sucessfull in riling the other up, immediately getting kn eachothers nerves.
'You jealous or something?' I throw my hands in the air, laughing incredulously.
'I don't need to be, I heard you, you know.' He smirked, 'Up there.' Nodding to my bedroom. And my blood runs cold, embarrassment prickling my face. But I clear my throat, trying to control my emotions, 'You were listening?' I quirk an eyebrow, the corner of my lip tugging.
'Wha– of course not! He protests.
'No? Well, I did.' And now it's my turn to grin, 'I heard you, too. Earlier today.'
His veins freeze, 'I don't know, what you mean. . .' Bucky begins–
'Yes you do.' I saunter toward him, getting right in his face. 'Just admit it.' I hiss, humouring myself.
Grabbing my jaw, he breathes 'I fucking hate you.' But I smile against his lips. The neon sign turning pink, painting us both in its lovely rose colour.
'No, you don't.' I whisper, 'You love me.' And drop my sheet, stark naked underneath.
In a hurry, he crawls back on top of me, lining himself up with my core. Teasing, he slides his member up and down my folds, 'Fuck' I moan, and he slides in. Immidietly setting a gruesome pace, hitting my cervix with every thrust.
He looks at me with awe in his eyes, eyebrows furrowing. He lools teribbly pained, 'I do, I do love you.' He whimpers, as if the sight of me and the the truth he'd refused to accept hurt him.
In a clash, his lips met mine. Feverishly our mouths clash together, tongues waisting no time in tasting the other. His hands glide down my sides, until they grab my ass and he lifts me into his arms. I gasp and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling on his hair, making him grunt. He walks us into his bedroom, and throws me onto the bed with a yelp, then crawls on top of me. Kissing his way up my body until our mouths found their way back to eachother. I unbutton his shirt and unbuckle his belt, hastily pulling them both off of him. He sits back, and zips down his pants, kicking them off. His size was more than enough.
He groans in my ear, snaking his hand up to my throat and as he leans on the other. Nuzzling my face softly, his hand toghtens around my throat, lightly choking me as his hips slam into mine hard into mine.
My hands roam his back, sinking my nails into his skin whenever a particularly rough thrust sends a spirit breaking ache through my body. His lips trace their way down my jaw, specking it with kisses, whispering 'I love you.' In muffled moans against my skin.
I grin, and run my hands through his hair 'Good boy.' I whisper–
He whimpers, 'Fuck.'
The snap of his hips falter as the both of us are reaching our orgasm. He kisses his way down my throat, meanwhile adjusting his hold around it. 'I love you.' He mutters between every kiss, when he finally falls over the edge. His seed spilling inside of me as he does his best to keep thrusting, helping me to reach my own climax. With the chole of his hand, member inside me and his muffled I love you's. The knot tightens in my stumache, and I topple over too. How could I not?
'I love you too.' I whisper, and I feel him smile against my throat as he squeezes it one last time. 'Good, it was too hard to stay mad at you.'
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lostgirlmuseum · 5 months
Text
Who the Hell is Daryl?
Summary: Bucky is in love with you, and finally finds the courage to tell you. But what happens when it sounds like someone else is already in the picture? (Miscommunication!)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Avenger!Reader
Words: 2k
Warnings: Miscommunication trope! Only one small mention of “Y/N”, teensy bit of yelling, let me know if I missed anything.
A/N: Wrote this a couple days ago and put it in drafts, spontaneously posted bc I'm procrastinating on an essay. Okay I'll get back to hw now :(
Dividers: @firefly-graphics
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He was going to do it. He was really going to do it. 
He was finally going to ask you out.
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To the surprise of everyone on the team, you and Bucky had become fast pals after you joined six months ago. Something about the two of you clicked. ‘Opposites attract’ and all that, but Bucky always felt it went deeper than that.
The two of you had never argued, something he felt very proud of, considering he argued with most people. But not you. Never you.
The moment he decided that he needed to man up and ask you out wasn’t anything fancy. You were sparring with Wanda across the gym, and he was simply watching you work in tandem. He watched the entire 15 minute session, and didn’t take his eyes off you, even as you approached him. 
“Buck, I’m out of water, can I take a sip of yours?”
He nodded, “Sure, Doll,” and tossed you his bottle. 
You shot him a charming smile and opened the cap, and not-so-gracefully chugged half the bottle. You wiped your upper lip and handed it back to him. 
“Thanks, Jamie,” you breathily said, and jogged back to the arena. 
His head was completely empty except for a single thought, tumbling through his desert mind like a tumbleweed.
I’m going to marry her someday.
He shocked himself with the thought, he wasn’t sure where it had come from. But he couldn’t help the grin that snuck its way onto his lips as he realized he didn’t disagree with the thought.
Of course before marriage is dating. One step at a time Buck. 
After his realization, he had spent the next three days planning the perfect way to ask you out. He went through an entire list of ideas, but none of them seemed good enough for you. He wanted it to be perfect. But as the clock ticked on and he started running out of paper, he realized it was best to just be honest about his feelings. 
You had just gotten back from a solo mission, and Bucky was hanging out in your room as you showered.
He was blushing like an idiot and fidgeting like crazy on your bed as he waited for you to hurry up. It was surprising he had so much self control as to not blurt it out while you were showering.
“Oh, Bucky,” you called from the bathroom, the sound of the water pausing.
“What’s up?”
“Could you set an alarm on my phone for 7:30 A.M. tomorrow before I forget? I think I left it on the side table.”
“You got it, Doll.”
“You’re the best! I’m almost done, I’ll be out in like two minutes,” you called, and soon after the sound of rushing water resumed.
Bucky grabbed your phone and typed in the passcode, his heart fluttering a little as he thought about how you trusted him enough to know it.
But the flutter stopped almost as quickly as it started, the moment your phone turned on and resumed on your text string with someone. He would’ve ignored it, but a red heart at the top of the screen caught his eye.
Who the hell is “Daryl,” and why does he have a heart emoji next to his name?
Bucky couldn’t help himself as his eyes flitted over your last texts.
Daryl ❤️ I’m back in town, lemme know when you’re around 
You About to leave for a quick mission, but I’ll be back tmw evening. I miss you sm :( how about we meet up Monday morning at 8 at Bernie’s cafe?
Daryl ❤️ Lets do it. And I miss you too, can’t wait to see your beautiful face!! I love you, be careful
You Love you too, and Im always careful 😘
Bucky felt sick to his stomach. You had never mentioned a brother named Daryl, or any other kind of family member. And you’d told him about all your closest friends, and none of them were named Daryl. How did Bucky not know you had a boyfriend?
Bucky fought the urge to scroll up, and quickly tapped out of the app, and set the alarm you asked him to set. 
So you were meeting this “Daryl” tomorrow morning?
Bucky heard the water stop, and the sound of the shower curtain shuffling.
Shit. You were getting out. Fuck, he wasn’t ready to face you.
You’d never mentioned you were in a relationship before. He would remember. How long have you been dating? And more importantly, why did you keep this from him? Did you feel like you couldn’t trust him? Maybe you weren’t as close friends as he’d thought.
“Which movie did you want to watch tonight?” You asked, peeking out of the door with a turquoise towel wrapped around you.
“Um, I’m actually really tired, suddenly. I think I’m going to go to bed.” Bucky stuttered, avoiding your gaze as he quickly stood up.
“Oh, okay,” you responded, disappointment and concern lacing your voice. “Everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. Glad you got back safe. Good night.”
With that, Bucky ducked out of your room and practically ran back to his.
Bucky tossed and turned, and once he got over his embarrassment, he settled into a familiar depressive feeling. Of course you didn’t like him back. What the fuck was he thinking? He’s—well, he’s Bucky. Broken, only destined to ever be your friend. How could he be foolish enough to think you would love him like he loves you. At about hour 4, the heartbreak started turning into betrayal. Betrayal that you kept this from him. And soon enough, that betrayal festered into a kind of resentment, something he’d never felt for you before.
He didn’t get much sleep that night.
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Bucky checked the clock for the 20th time in the past 5 minutes. 7:45 A.M. You were probably about to leave. Bucky felt his heart clench. He was usually up by 7, and eating breakfast in the common area by 7:30. He sat at the barstool, dragging his spoon around his now soggy Coco Puffs, waiting for you to appear. Why he felt the need to torture himself, he didn’t know.
Finally, he heard your steps coming down the hall. 
And there you appeared, wearing the most beautiful sundress he had ever seen. It was lavender, and had small white flowers adorning the skirt, and it fell just above your knees. 
Bucky took you in, and his momentary adoration turned back to his heartbreak. You were dressed up as if you were going on a date. There was no chance this wasn’t your boyfriend.
“Good morning Bucky, did you sleep okay last night?” 
“Yes.” He lied. Maybe you would tell him the truth if he asked. Yes it would hurt hearing the truth from your mouth, but he wanted to give you a chance to tell him your secret. “Where are you headed?”
“To meet a friend,” you nodded smoothly. 
Maybe Bucky was crazy. Maybe he was overthinking all of this. Maybe Daryl really was just a friend.
“Which friend?”
“Penny.”
So you were just flat out lying to him now. Bucky nodded and waited for you to leave before moping back to his room. He wanted to cry. And he did for a minute, or two, but his tears turned from sad to angry when he remembered you were now lying. You never lied to Bucky, and Bucky never lied to you. At least, he thought that was how it was. He clenched his fists, mad at you for betraying him, but more mad at himself for believing he could ever have you.
He didn’t move from his bed.
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“Bucky?” Your voice emerged after three knocks to his door.
He couldn’t get himself to respond. 
The door slowly creaked open, a stream of light flooding his dark room.
“Hey Buck. You okay? You seemed a little off this morning.”
“Fine.” He mumbled, not turning over in bed to face you.
A pause. 
“Jamie, what’s wrong?” You asked, closing the door behind you and flicking on the light. 
“Don’t call me that.”
“What?” You asked, slightly taken aback. You thought he loved your affectionate nickname for him.
“I don’t want you to call me ‘Jamie’ anymore.”
“Okay…”
He felt the bed dip as you sat next to him. 
“Bucky,” you whispered, “please talk to me.”
He sat up and gave you a pointed look. Was he being immature? Yes. But what could he do, he just discovered that his best friend has been lying to him, and doesn’t love him.
“Where were you?” He asked.
You furrowed your brows a moment, trying to piece together where he was going with this. 
“I was at Bernie’s with Penny.”
“Don’t lie to me.” He sneered.
Your eyes widened at his bite.
“I’m not lying? Bucky, what is going on?”
“What’s going on is that you’ve been keeping the fact that you have a boyfriend from me. Why don’t you want to tell me?”
“A boyfriend?” You blinked. “I don’t have a boyfriend,”
“Why won’t you be honest with me?” He yelled, and you scooted back.
“I am!”
“Then who is Daryl?”
“What?”
“I saw your texts last night, when you asked me to set your alarm.” Bucky looked down at his lap, ashamed.
“Bucky,” you sighed, and a look of understanding crossed your face. A moment later you held out your phone to him.
“What?” He asked, dumbly looking at your outstretched hand. The screen was on your text string with Daryl.
“Call the number.” You simply said.
“What?” He repeated.
“Take my phone, and call the number.”
Confused and suspicious, Bucky grabbed your phone and hesitated over the call icon. 
“Go ahead,” you urged.
He pressed the button. 
Ring.
Ring.
Ri—
“Hey!” A familiar feminine voice rang through the speaker. “What’s up hon?”
“Hello?” Bucky said, looking from the phone to you to the phone.
“Uh, hi? Is that Bucky?”
“P—Penny?” He sputtered.
“Hey Bucky! What’s up, is everything okay? I thought Y/N was calling.”
“Hey Pen,” you interjected, “Everything’s fine, I’ll call you back in a bit, kay’?”
“Sure thing, bye, love ya,” Penny added, and hung up.
Bucky stared at the now blank phone, baffled.
“I don’t understand.”
“Bucky,” you sighed, and tilted his chin to look at you. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Penny is in my contacts as “Daryl” because it’s my funny little nickname for her. My Dad has had a best friend since grade school named Daryl, and they don’t see each other often, but when they do it’s like nothing has changed. They get along like no time has passed. I call Penny “my Daryl” because I know that even if we don’t talk for years, we are so close that I know we would be the exact same.”
Bucky sat quietly for a moment, simply taking in your story. He felt really stupid.
“I’m sorry,” he started, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry I called you a liar.” He struggled to meet your gaze, ashamed of what he did.
“Jamie—can I call you Jamie now?”
He nodded sheepishly.
“Jamie, I forgive you. But I wish you had just talked to me about it, and asked me. We are usually so good about being open with each other. What happened?” You asked, wide eyes looking into his.
“I know, I’m sorry. I flipped out, I guess I was just shocked, because I was going to—” he licked his lips, “well, I was…”
“You can tell me, Bucky. Honesty, remember?” You soothed, placing your hand on his leg.
He gulped.
“I was going to ask you to be with me.”
You tilted your head, not quite understanding.
“Like, I was gonna ask if you’d let me be your boyfriend.” He mumbled. “So when I saw that you were texting and saying ‘I love you’ to some guy, I guess I was just blindsided.”
“James,” you smiled, moving yourself to sit on his lap. You brought your forehead against his. “You silly, jealous man.” You gently stroked his cheek with your right hand. “You want to be my boyfriend?"
"It sounds so juvenile, I don't know, I just want you to be mine, and for you to call me 'yours,'" he mumbled.
"I accept," you giggled, and watched his glittering eyes shoot to yours.
He had started to say something, but he stopped when you brought your soft lips to his.
“I'm so happy,” he whispered between kisses.
Suffice it to say, Bucky completed step one of the path to marrying you.
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A/N: Tysm for reading! If you liked it, please feel free to let me know!
Also I'm sorry if the ending sucks, I wrote this in a couple hours and Idk why I'm so bad at endings gahh
Here's my Masterlist if you'd like to read more!
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The Rain is Always Gonna Come if You're Standing With Me | Bucky Barnes x Reader
Hi, friends. This one took me approximately 100 years to finish because school is eating me alive. This one is based on Peace from folklore, which is an underrated song, in my opinion.
Word count: 12.3k
Warnings: Bucky's negative self image, harassment, slight reader injury, people being assholes
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"But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm If your cascade ocean wave blues come All these people think love's for show But I would die for you in secret The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?"
“Oh, you don’t have to do that, doll-” Bucky said as you swiped the dirty dishes from the table. He made a grab for them, but his enhanced speed was no match for you. You expertly evaded his capture, slipping away from his grasp with almost no effort. You knew him too well, knew his movement patterns and habits. Anticipating his every move was easy. With a cocky laugh, you turned on your heel and headed for the sink. 
“Sweetheart, really,” he called after you, “I’ll clean up.”
“But you made breakfast.” You set the two bowls that once held yogurt, fruit, and granola in the sink and turned on the water. “It’s only fair that I do the dishes.”
Bucky rolled his eyes and gave a laugh, “that wasn’t breakfast, baby. It was just a… a morning snack.” In only a few long strides, he met you at the sink. His large hands snatched yours and pulled them to his broad chest, halting your efforts to clean.
You cocked your head to the side, “A morning snack, huh?”
“Yeah. I mean, I know we’re going out for breakfast, but I didn’t want you to be hungry.” He added a fraction of extra pressure to your hands, pulling them closer against his body. “I gotta take care of my girl.”
“Well, that’s very thoughtful of you,” you placed a quick peck to his lips. “And because you are so thoughtful and sweet, let me do the dishes.” With a playful tug, you tried to free your hands from his grasp. But Bucky held firm. 
He shook his head, “Nope. Not gonna happen.” Suddenly, he released your hands, spun you around, and landed a light slap to your ass; it happened so fast it left you giggling. “You go get dressed, I’ll take care of it.”
Your giggly “sir, yes, sir” floated down the hall as you marched toward the bedroom. This was to be the perfect day. A trip to your favorite bookstore, followed by what you swore was the best chicken and waffles the city had to offer. After breakfast, the two of you were set to visit the new shark exhibit at the science museum, eat lunch in the park, and grab an ice cream from your favorite spot. 
Bucky planned it all out, ensuring a flawless blueprint. And while you appreciated his attention to detail, you would’ve been happy with a day at home. All you wanted- all you needed- was to spend time with him. 
And time with Bucky was lacking as of late.
He stood at the sink, drying the now clean dishes as emotion overcame him. He couldn’t believe he was here- home- with you. He waited for this day. He hungered and ached for a day without danger, without bloodshed. He waited for a day spent with you. And only you. 
He’d just been so busy lately- too busy. Over the past few months, he’d been dragged around the world more times than he could count. His missions only seemed to grow longer. And each time he got the call from Hill, she sent him farther and farther away. 
He found himself struggling under the weight of severe, mind-numbing exhaustion. Anxiety. His body threatened to give out with each new wound he received, each drop of blood he lost. But he didn’t mind the constant paint or fatigue. What upset him most was spending so much time away from you.
The two of you lived together now. You shared an address, a roof, a bedroom. The universe somehow allowed Bucky to have a home- a safe, comfortable home- with the person he loved most. But he’d spent so little time there lately that he feared it wasn’t his anymore. That he had no claim to the space. He always felt like a mere passerby upon arriving home, like more of a wanderer than a resident. He always had to stop himself from knocking, had to force himself to use his key. 
But who was he to waltz through the front door after being gone for so long? Who was he to act like he owned the place? He thought maybe he didn’t deserve it, this home you shared. And he knew he didn’t deserve you.  
Over the past few months, he spent only a handful of nights at home while you held down the fort. You kept things together. He missed out on so much of your life; what if you didn’t want him to be a part of it anymore?
When Bucky did come home, he always showed up in the middle of the night. Sore. Exhausted. He’d drag his body into the bed you shared and pass out before he even got the chance to pull you close. He’d sleep late, his body too fatigued to wake before the afternoon. When he finally stirred, the two of you did your best to catch up. He wanted to hear every detail of your life, and you his. But without fail, the emotion won. You’d cry together, wrapped in the other’s arms, whispering “I love yous” over and over. 
And without fail, some world ending threat would interrupt. Danger always found a way to force the two of you apart, isolating you from one another. And only twenty-four hours after arriving home, Bucky would leave. Again. 
But over the last few weeks, things started quieting down. It was slow at first. Subtle. But Bucky sensed a shift in the air. He could almost feel the world settling. At first, he thought he’d lost his mind. But Sam, too, felt the earth calming. As did Hill. Whatever sweeping, overwhelming chaos that sent the entire planet into disaster so many months ago seemed to finally lose steam. Fewer calls came in, fewer alerts woke Bucky in the middle of the night. 
And three nights ago, Bucky came home for good. 
The adrenaline that kept him going for so long evaporated as soon as he made it through the front door. The anxiety melted from his body. It was the only thing, he realized, that kept him upright. And with it gone, his body gave out. He crumbled and collapsed to the floor as sweet relief flooded his every cell. He didn’t care that he was hurt, that he was worn out; he was just happy to be home.
But a sharp shriek flooded his system with fear once again. 
You stood frozen in the doorway of your bedroom, just a few feet away, with your hands clasped over your mouth. Tears welled in your eyes. Your chest rose and fell as sharp breaths dragged into your lungs. The sight of his limp body sent you jumping to the worst, most tragic conclusions. 
“No, I’m- I’m okay, baby.”  With great effort, Bucky pulled himself to his feet. 
It was then that you snapped out of your horrified trance. You rushed to Bucky’s side, throwing your arms around his neck, and pressing your body to his. You needed to be as close to him as possible, needed your souls to touch. His arms wound around you and pulled you closer still, desperate for you.
“You’re okay…” you whispered against his neck. It wasn’t a question, but an affirmation.
“I’m okay,” he said. “I’m home.” 
That night, after he took a shower and let you clean his wounds, he planned this perfect day. And though you told him it wasn’t necessary, he wanted to make things up to you. He wanted to apologize for being gone so long. For breaking your heart over and over and over again. For disappearing. 
He knew how his absences affected you. Knew you worried about him constantly when he was gone. He noticed the way you bit your nails down to the quick. How you picked at your cuticles till they bled. Your tired eyes looked bloodshot, and your bottom lip chewed raw. He knew your anxiety gave you stomach pain and headaches. Knew that you could barely eat or sleep when he was away. 
His constant disappearing act put you through hell. And he hated himself for it. All he wanted- all he ever wanted- was to make you happy. To bring you calm and ease and tranquility. And now that he was home, he swore to himself that he’d give you peace. 
Bucky finished with the dishes and headed into the bedroom, hoping to soak up as much time with you as possible. But just as he made his way into the en suite bathroom, your grumbled, aggravated voice caught his attention.
“Oh, what the fuck?” You let out a deep huff, staring down at your phone with a sharp seriousness.
Bucky popped his head into the bathroom, “Everything okay?” 
A look of surprise splashed across your face; you hadn’t heard him come in. “Oh- hey. Yeah. Everything is-” you gestured to your phone, “everything’s fine. My friend just sent me a stupid gossip article.”
“Anything good?” Bucky shot you a wink, knowing damn well he was clueless about the latest reality tv drama. 
“No.” The word carried a hefty weight and fell to the ground with finality.
Bucky clocked your tone, your expression- both struck him as too serious for a gossip rag. His muscles stiffened ever so slightly at sight of your displeasure. 
“Just dumb shit. People writing whole articles over things they have no idea about.” You rolled your eyes and slipped your phone into your pocket. A deep breath acted as a reset to your system, clearing the fog of frustration from your mind. “And it doesn’t even matter, cause we have a perfect day planned.” 
Bucky, too, took a deep breath. He relaxed into a smile and leaned against the door jam. “We sure do, doll.”
He was too accustomed to disaster. Always prepared for the worst. The slightest change in your demeanor sent him hurdling toward the worst possible conclusion. His body was home, but his mind remained stuck in a never-ending battle. 
“I’m just gonna put my shoes on- I’ll be ready when you are.” Bucky stepped away and did his best to shake it off. ‘Everything’s fine, it’s all good’, he said to himself as he laced up his boots. ‘It was just an article about Vanderpump Rules or whatever.’ His palms dragged up and down his thighs, his chest rose and fell rhythmically. He learned how to self-regulate, to talk himself down, long ago- before he ever met you. It was his only option back then.
The sound of your footsteps bounding down the hall commanded Bucky’s attention. He snapped out his dimly lit world and stepped into your technicolor atmosphere. A comforting sigh of relief spread though his body as he noticed the bright smile on your face. Any evidence of the upset your gossip rag caused was long gone, replaced by an all-encompassing warmth. 
“Alright, Barnes,” you grabbed your purse from the hook by the door and slung it over your shoulder,  “let’s do this.” 
The warm summer air greeted the two of you as stepped out of your apartment building. The busy city pulsed with the possibilities of a perfect Saturday. People passed by with dogs in tow. Cars honked. Birds sang. And finally, things felt right. Everything fell off its axis when Bucky was gone. The world turned in the wrong direction, the sun set on the opposite side. And only his return could set things properly in motion.
“Okay, to the bookstore,” Bucky weaved his fingers with yours and gave you a gentle tug in the right direction, “here we go!” 
Bucky never had an affinity for going out in public. He didn’t particularly enjoy the crowded sidewalks or busy subways. Throngs of strangers surrounding him from every angle only ever served to put him on edge. But he’d improved. He’d worked through his anxiety and his fears- all to be with you. It seemed, though, that his paranoia threatened to creep in again. After so much time away, surrounded by danger, he found himself scanning every face on the street, assessing possible threats. 
He always experienced some level of recognition in public, sure, but today felt different. Every pair of eyes seemed to bore through him, every mouth whispered his name. His muscles tensed, his jaw locked. 
“You okay?” you pulled Bucky to the side, out of the flow of people, “you seem a little on edge.”
“Oh-” Bucky snaked his hand out of yours, realizing all at once the force of his grip. He watched you rub at the sore spots he created and silently cursed himself. “No, I’m good, I’m okay. I think I’m just-” He eyed the area once more, “I think I’m just being paranoid. Is it me or is everyone staring at me?”
Your heart stopped. “Um, no, I don’t think everyone’s staring,” A casual shrug and a shake of your head punctuated your thought. “I think you’ve got some residual adrenaline or something, you know?”
Bucky nodded. “Must be it. I’m sorry about your hand, baby.” He pressed his lips to the indentations his fingers left behind. 
“I’ll survive,” you threw him a wink, “but the kisses help.”
The two of you continued your journey with Bucky’s worries only slightly assuaged. It seemed to him that hundreds of eyes raked over him with each passing second, but he forced his anxiety behind a wall. He wasn’t going to mess up this day with you- he couldn’t. He didn’t know how many chances he had left, and if this was the last one, he couldn’t afford to ruin it.
Block after block passed as you and Bucky got closer to the bookstore. Sure, there was a similar shop only a few minutes from the apartment- but it wasn’t as cute or as special as the one in the village. And Bucky wanted this day perfect. He’d do anything to make you happy. And so, he sucked it up and vowed to make the trek with you, no matter how nervous the public made him. 
But with only a few blocks to go, you pulled him to the side once again.
“Hang on, shoe’s untied,” you attempted to bend down and tie your loose lace, but Bucky refused to let you. He, instead, knelt on the sidewalk and gave your shoe a proper double-knot. 
He stared up at you with adoration in his eyes and a warm smile on his face, “this is almost like a Cinderella moment,” he joked. “Except I-” 
Something caught his eye. 
And before you had the chance to intervene, he was gone. He forced his way past cyclists and families with children, his body seemingly drawn in by a magnet toward whatever grabbed his attention. He stood with his back to you, examining a newspaper box. 
“Come on, Buck, no one reads the paper anymore,” you laughed, attempting to sway his focus. But he didn’t move. 
His gaze remained on the grainy photo of the two of you holding hands outside your building. For the second time that day, you scanned the headline: ‘SERIAL KILLER’S PR RELATIONSHIP: The Winter Soldier’s Attempt to Win Over the American Public’.
“What- what is this?” Bucky looked to you for help, for context. “Why did someone wrote about us?”
A haunting sense of hopelessness filled his eyes, leaving you gutted. And though he wanted to look away, he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes from the page. Each second spent examining the harsh headline caused him more pain, more anguish. 
He truly couldn’t believe what he saw. And he couldn’t believe he’d dragged you into the crossfire. 
“Hey, don’t pay it any mind, okay?” You fought to meet his eyeline, “It’s just stupid gossip-”
A realization flashed across his face, “is this what you were reading this morning?”
A slow nod confirmed his fears. “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, I just-”
Bucky snatched a paper from the box and began reading at lightning speed. With each sentence, the dread filling his chest grew heavier. “Hydra’s deadliest weapon has a new victim,” Bucky read aloud. “though she hasn’t been bloodied or brutalized…yet. We’ll see just how long Barnes’s new PR ‘girlfriend’ survives.”
The words cut him deep. They wormed their way into his brain and unearthed the fears he’d long tried to put to rest. He knew he was wrong to be with you. He was wrong to indulge in his feelings for you. Dating you meant putting you in danger, and he’d known that all along. But you were never scared of him- and if you were, you didn’t show it. This article, however, cemented his belief: your relationship was a ticking time bomb; being Bucky’s girlfriend meant signing your I love you’s in blood. 
“Wait-” he dragged his eyes upward and met your anxious stare. “What does this mean- what’s a ‘PR relationship’?”
You rolled your eyes at the phrase, just like you had earlier that morning, “’public relations relationship’. It’s a fake relationship that’s been arranged by a PR firm. People usually do it to get publicity or fix their public image after a scandal.”
Bucky knew there was more to your answer, and he had enough questions to last till dinner. But the article was long- too long. He knew it had to be full to the brim with the most brutal, vile rhetoric possible. Reading it would hurt, yes. But he needed to know exactly what the article said about him, about you. 
He buried his face in the paper once more, only surfacing to share a line or two with you. “They think you’re being paid to date me? That we’ve been doing something called-” he double checked the article, “‘pap walks’? What’s a pap walk?”
Even in times of crisis, Bucky’s lack of modern knowledge still managed to pull a smile from you. “It’s where you call the paparazzi so they can take pictures of you, but you pretend it was spontaneous.”
Bucky looked stunned, “Why would anyone do that?”
You shrugged, “you’d be surprised.”
People took pictures of Bucky without his permission constantly- it happened all the time. They snapped photos at the grocery store and on the subway. And no matter how subtle they tried to be, Bucky always clocked it. He could almost feel the lenses on him. But he didn’t notice the person taking this picture on the front page. Maybe if he had, he could’ve stopped it. Maybe he could’ve saved you from being exposed like this.
He shook his head and disappeared once again into the disgusting story written about the two of you. He didn’t care much what they said about him. People hated him- that wasn’t knew information. And though he didn’t love being one of the most reviled men in history, he’d come to terms with it. But now that someone dragged you into the fray, the fire within him reignited.
“His new ‘girlfriend’ functions as a means of improving the public’s opinion of Barnes and humanizing the ex-Winter Soldier. It’s a PR strategy we’ve seen a million times- one that could possibly salvage Barnes’s reputation,” Bucky read aloud. He eyed the people who passed, waiting until they crossed the street to continue. 
“But what if she herself is no angel?” He rolled his eyes at the thought. “Surely, no one in their right mind would risk their life to date a proven serial killer. So, it’s entirely possible that she herself may not be in her right mind. Maybe she, too, is a criminal. Acting as Barnes’s new love interest could possibly knock time off her sentence or hours off her court mandated community service.” 
Bucky stared at you, aghast. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I- I can’t believe they’d say that about you…”
“Buck, it’s okay,” you shrugged. “We both know I’m actually in love with you for real. I don’t have a prison sentence to shorten or community service hours to perform. And the last time I checked, no one is paying me to date you.” You cut a glance to the newspaper box, full of papers with front page coverage about you and Bucky, “I’m not worried about their bullshit.”
Bucky’s grip on the paper tightened, crinkling the edges. “But why’d they have to drag you into it? You haven’t done anything wrong-”
“Neither have you,” your tone was insistent, steadfast.
“We both know that’s not true…” Bucky loved your support, your assertions that he was an innocent man. But he never believed them. He knew he had blood on his hands even if you couldn’t- or refused to- see it.
“We both know you had no choice,” your rebuttal didn’t waver. “But, speaking of things that aren’t true,” you gestured toward the paper, “they also dropped Sam’s name.”
Bucky scanned through the article until he found the paragraph in question. “Why put in the effort to clean the blood from Barnes’s tarnished reputation? Two words: Sam Wilson,” Bucky paused his reading and stared up at you with wide eyes. All you could do was nod. 
“Barnes and Wilson have been seen together on many occasions and have even been photographed on Wilson’s family boat in Louisiana. But Barnes’s association with Sam Wilson, AKA the New Captain America, only hurts the Captain America brand. Even if the two did take down the Flag Smashers as a team, Barnes is a bloodstain on the brilliant red, white, and blue of Wilson’s Cap.” 
Hearing the words aloud twisted the knife. Sure, skimming the article hurt, but listening to Bucky read every last disgusting word hurt you in ways you never imagined. He deserved better. He deserved a world that loved him. A world that welcomed him home and celebrated his life. He deserved a fucking medal of honor for simply surviving what Hydra put him through. But he didn’t get medals or high praise; he, instead, got spit on by people on the subway. 
“But if this new woman improves Barnes’s image in the public eye, his destruction of Wilson’s mantle may be mitigated.” 
Bucky balled up the paper and crushed it into the nearest garbage can. His hands shook with anger, with anxiety. 
“I hadn’t even- I didn’t even think of that…” he leaned against the newspaper box, dejected. “I didn’t realize I was ruining Sam's reputation just by being friends with him.” Despair darkened his expression. He knew getting close to people was selfish- he just never realized how selfish. And in one fell swoop, he ruined the lives of the two people he cared about most.
“You’re not- you’re not ruining anything,” you took Bucky’s face in your hands, cradling his cheeks. “These kinds of stories are all made up, baby. There’s no sources or actual information for them to work from, so they just write whatever will get them the most attention.”
Bucky’s gaze fell downward. “I don’t know, doll…”
“But I do. I know.” Your words came out desperate, pleading. Something inside of you shook with a frantic need to mend Bucky’s broken heart. You’d never seen him this despondent, this torn apart. “And I’m not gonna let you doubt yourself because of some low budget, piece of shit gossip article.” Regardless of the emotion holding you hostage, your voice didn’t waver. You stood firm in your conviction, determined to help Bucky find his way out of the spiral. “I love you. I love being with you. I missed you so much- I hate when you’re gone. And Sam- Sam loves you, too. I mean, not as much as me…” you shot him a wink. “But he is your best friend. He cares about you. And I can guarantee that he’s never- even for a second- thought that you were ruining his reputation.”
Bucky gave a shake of his head.
“Hey, you know Sam doesn’t care about that kind of stuff- he doesn’t give a shit what people think.” Sam knew Bucky as the ruthless assassin, the broken fugitive, and the rehabilitated man seeking amends. He’d seen the darkest, most twisted version of Bucky created by Hydra- even fought against him. But he didn’t see Bucky as a villain anymore. He saw only his friend, the tortured soul who tried his best every day.
Bucky lifted your hands from his face and held them to his chest instead. He gave a deep, heavy sigh that vibrated under your palms. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. Part of him wished to go back into cryo and escape the stares of the world. 
You could see him crumbling, collapsing in on himself like a dying star. He was drowning in his own mind, and you offered him a life preserver. “Hey, I know it must feel fucking awful to see a story like this about yourself. And I know you hate that Sam and I are involved. But it’s not your fault.” You gripped his t-shirt in your fists, desperate to get your point across. “This whole thing is so predatory and evil- it’s killing me to see you hurting like this. But I swear to you that this does not matter to the rest of the world. they won’t even notice.” Bucky’s stare sliced through you. Something in his eyes appeared hopeful- but only for a moment. The brightness died suddenly, replaced by despair.
“Seriously, Buck, people these days don’t even have the attention span to read an article this long.” Bucky didn’t laugh at your attempted levity. You dropped your joking tone and grew serious. “I don’t want you to think that this changes anything- it doesn’t. This will not have any ramifications. It will all blow over. The news cycle moves so fast now- by tomorrow, this same shitty paper will publish something that’s, like, ‘Elton John is secretly an alien.’”
Bucky didn’t answer. He simply rested his shoulders against the cool, brick wall and let his head fall back. He wondered if the fear people held for him would ever subside, if he’d ever be seen as anything other than a monster. His legacy was soaked in blood. It hung over his head every day, dripping crimson onto his skin. No shower could undo the stains- no matter how hard he scrubbed, he’d always be the stuff of nightmares.
“Okay, hey, how about this,” you reeled Bucky back in, saving him from the dark recesses of his mind. “Let’s just go home, alright? We can hole up and hide out. Watch movies, order takeout. We’ll just stay out of the public eye until this bullshit blows over.”
The offer enticed him. Escaping the stares of strangers, their horrified expressions- it sounded idyllic. The thought of just the two of you snuggled together on the couch, marathoning all of What We Do in the Shadows with Chinese takeout in hand was tempting. Bucky could feel the ‘yes’ forming on his lips. But at the last second, he refused with a shake of his head.
Bucky made a promise to you. After being an absentee boyfriend for months, he planned out the perfect day and swore on his life to deliver. He couldn’t break any more promises- not after he was gone for so long. And he had so much to make up for. So many date nights and lazy weekends fell by the wayside while he was away. He racked up a stack of debt in your relationship, and if he didn’t start paying it off soon, he feared you’d cancel his account.
But he knew you- knew you didn’t care about these things. You didn’t consider him accountable for the time he missed or hold a grudge against him. You were gracious- too gracious- of him. And if he rattled off his reasons for refusing your offer, he knew you’d sweep them aside. He knew you’d lead him home without hesitation and stay cooped up inside until the world eased up on him. And you’d miss out on your perfect day. 
Bucky wasn’t going to let that happen.
“I think it’s actually better if…” he eyed the people passing, certain they were shooting the two of you dirty looks. “I think it’s better if I just go about my day. If we go home and hide, I’ll obsess, you know? I’ll get trapped in my own head.” He quickly tacked on an addendum, “but if you’re not okay being out in public right now, I understand. They involved you in this mess, too.”
You shrugged, “it doesn’t bother me. I know our relationship is real. That’s all that matters.” 
And for a split second, Bucky’s worries disappeared. You were so sure of your love for him. So unbothered by what everyone else had to say. You didn’t let the opinions of others get to you; you loved Bucky, end of story. You adapted to every hurdle and challenge brought on by dating the ex- Winter Soldier. And you did so with a smile.
“Okay, good. Then I guess our next stop is the bookstore,” he said with a small smile. You tried to turn and head in that direction, but Bucky caught your hand, stopping you. “And hey- if anyone on the way there gives you trouble, you just say the word, okay?” 
But no one gave you any trouble. The walk to the bookstore was quiet. Unremarkable. No one hollered close-minded comments at Bucky. No one gave either of you venomous glares. The calm shocked Bucky. He’d been so sure that this day would fall apart. That everyone who read that article would converge on the two of you all at once, harassing and degrading you until you retreated home. But no one said a word. The two of you simply strolled hand in hand, soaking in the warm summer sun. And Bucky’s hope for a perfect day renewed.
“I thought it would be in this section…” Bucky scanned the ‘fantasy’ section of the bookstore, searching for a specific novel. He took the high shelves, and you took the low, meeting in the middle after a fruitless search. 
“Yeah, I didn’t see it, babe,” you rose from your squatted position, two mystery novels under your arm. “Maybe you should ask an employee? I can stay here and keep looking, just in case we missed it.”
“Yeah…” Bucky gave the area another cursory glance, to no avail. “That’s a good idea. I’ll be right back.” He dotted a kiss to your forehead and set off in search of a clerk, leaving you behind to double check the shelves. 
The hundreds of books lined up in perfect rows put you at ease. This shop was the coziest place in the city, a peaceful paradise free from the noise. And spending a Saturday morning with Bucky, wandering amongst the many titles, felt like home. Your fingertips brushed over a few of the spines, tracing the ornate lettering in search of Bucky’s book. 
“Excuse me?” An unfamiliar voice brought you back to reality, halting your hunt. 
“Oh, sorry,” you took a few steps out of the stranger’s way and continued your search, only for her to interrupt once again. 
“No, I want to talk to you!” her intense energy was out of place in the small, quiet bookshop. The eagerness in her voice rubbed you the wrong way. “Is it true?”
You stared at her, a blank expression on your face. “Is what true?”
“The whole PR relationship thing!” She pulled out her phone and shoved the article in your face, “I read about you two this morning.”
Your hands tightened into fists. Your jaw tensed. And though you wanted to wring this woman’s neck, you kept your cool; Bucky wouldn’t want you to get into a fight on his behalf. With a deep breath, you quelled the rage building inside you. You set down your books and relaxed your shoulders, forcing your breathing to steady.
This stranger had no right to ask invasive questions about your relationship, and no right to ruin your favorite bookstore. “Our relationship is none of your business,” you said, and turned back toward the bookshelves. This stranger didn’t deserve your eye contact, your attention, or your mental space. “Please, leave me alone.”
“Oh, duh! I bet they made you sign an NDA, didn’t they? I get it,” she threw an all too friendly chuckle in your direction. “Can you at least tell me what they’re paying you?”
With that, you brushed past her and attempted an escape. All you wanted was to find Bucky and put this whole interaction behind you. But she followed, phone in hand, recording the whole thing. 
“Are you a criminal, too? Are you getting time off your sentence or something?” she called after you. 
You let it go.
“How’d they get you to agree to this arrangement?”
You ignored her.
“Aren’t you scared? I could never do what you’re doing,” she said. “No amount of money could ever get me to be near that man- he’s a serial killer. He’s a monster!”
Something inside you snapped. You whipped around, rage burning behind your eyes. She crossed the line. She didn’t know anything about Bucky, only what the papers and tabloids said about him. And she
deserved to pay the price for speaking about him so harshly. But just as you opened your mouth to tear her to shreds, a large hand rested on your shoulder. 
“Hey, doll,” Bucky stared down at you, “What’s-”
Your harasser’s eyes widened. “Oh my god,” pure terror rendered her white as a sheet. “It- it’s him…” Clumsy steps carried her backward as her phone slipped from her hand. She scrambled for it, desperate to run in the opposite direction. Breathless, horrified sounds fell from her lips. Her hands shook. You watched with a smile as she snatched her phone from the floor and tripped over herself as she high tailed it for the door.
Bucky eyed the woman as she knocked over displays and ran into other customers. “What was that about?”
You gave a shake of your head, “nothing. She was just hounding me about the article.” 
Bucky’s shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly. Hit brow grew furrowed. “Oh, baby…” he sighed, “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? You didn’t follow me around and ask me invasive questions.” You stretched up on your toes, planting a kiss to his cheek. “It’s not a big deal. I just hope I don’t end up on her Tik Tok.”
Bucky’s mouth fell open, “she was filming you?” 
You nodded. Bucky’s face fell. 
A rushed “Don’t worry about it, though” pushed its way past your lips. It had an over-the-top cheery tone and a thick affectation of reassurance. You could practically hear Bucky’s heart splintering and shattering with each passing second, and you had to stop it. “I’m sure she’s gonna watch it back later and delete it when she hears her own panicked panting,” you shot him a wink.
And you waited. Waited for the gears in Bucky’s mind to turn. To grind. The devil and angel on his shoulders fought one another, bare knuckled, to convince him of their arguments. The devil told him to spiral, to jump headfirst into a dark sea. He told Bucky this was all his fault, that you’d been harassed, followed, and filmed all because of him. The angel, however, urged him to listen to you. To take a deep breath. To hold your hand. To understand that the article wasn’t his fault- none of this was his fault. 
And after a long moment, he slipped his hand into yours. The gesture was a bit reluctant, sure, but you didn’t care. He’d resisted the urge to plummet into guilt and shame. And that’s all that mattered. 
You let loose a deep sigh as relief spread through your every cell. “Let’s get outta here, okay? We can head back home and-”
“What about breakfast?”
You eyed Bucky for a moment. “You still wanna go?”
“Yeah, absolutely,” he gave you a small smile. “I know how excited you were about it.”
Of course, all he cared about was you. Your happiness. Your enjoyment. Your love for this diner’s chicken and waffles.
“We can just go another time,” you assured him. “It’s no big deal.”
Bucky sensed the disappointment, no matter how slight in your voice. He couldn’t ruin this day for you. He couldn’t let you down again.
But he thought about the walk to the diner, the hordes of people you’d encounter on the way. And just like that, he felt his manufactured mask of optimism slip.
A sudden rush of what if’s pummeled his psyche. He imagined more harassers filming you, more unhinged strangers following you. He heard them yelling the most despicable things in your direction, hurling insult after insult your way. The voices grew into a loud, almost violent cacophony that rattled inside Bucky’s skull. 
He couldn’t let you be exposed to the cruel world like this. He couldn’t take you to breakfast when an angry mob threatened you at every turn. You didn’t deserve to be yelled at, to be disrespected. And what if they turned violent? What if someone followed the two of you home? He couldn’t risk your safety like that.
But he still had to make up for all his time away. All the lonely nights you spent awake, wondering if he was still alive. All the weekends you spent alone, missing him until it hurt. And he’d made a promise- to himself and to you- that he’d rectify the pain his absence caused. 
Plus, he had to be over-reacting, right? Assuming the worst out of people he didn’t even know- it wasn’t fair. Sure, a stranger followed you around and gave you a hard time. But she didn’t hurt you. She didn’t even try to get violent. It was all in Bucky’s head- he was sure of it. He made a conscious effort to release his shoulders from their tension-locked position and forced a deep breath into his chest. 
“No, doll, really. It’s okay,” he gave your hand a squeeze. “I can tolerate a few dirty looks.”
The second the two of you stepped out of the bookstore and onto the busy sidewalk, you clocked the way hung his head. The way he hid from the eyes of the city. He tried to shrink himself, to protect himself. The confidence, the self-esteem he’d worked so hard to build came crumbling down in an instant. This wasn’t your Bucky, but the Bucky of years before. The Bucky who hated every fiber of his being. The Bucky who took every harsh word spoken about him as gospel. The Bucky who punished his innocent body to make up for his tortured mind. 
The reemergence of this Bucky twisted the knife with which the article stabbed you and rubbed salt in the wound.
The walk to the diner brought out your chatty side. Filling the air with lighthearted anecdotes and silly jokes seemed to you like the only way to keep Bucky afloat. If you could distract him from the pain, from the potentially hateful onlookers, maybe this day could be salvaged. But, much to your surprise, not one person harassed the two of you. No one asked questions or followed you around. Not a single errant camera flash dotted the street. Hope rose in Bucky’s chest. Maybe this perfect day could still go as planned. Maybe he could still keep his promise.
When you arrived at the diner without issue, Bucky found himself almost laughing at his own dramatics. He knew he worried too much, that he always considered the worst possible outcomes. He saw the world through a dark and stormy filter, always casting shadows over reality. But to his delight, he’d been wrong this time.
The bell atop the diner door gave a delicate jingle as the two of you made your way inside. The place had an old-timey feel that brought Bucky a sense of comfort, a sense of home. Large families sat packed like sardines in every booth. Tray after tray of French toast and eggs benedict passed by. The smell of bacon and golden-brown pancakes instantly pulled his lips into a smile. It seemed to Bucky that this joint was the real deal. He couldn’t wait to try the chicken and waffles you raved about. Couldn’t wait for a syrup-sweetened kiss. 
“For two?” the hostess asked when you made your way to the front of the line. You gave her a nod. 
She eyed the section to her left, appraising the area for an opening as a busboy waved in her direction. “Okay, this way,” she grabbed two menus from the host stand and gestured for you to follow. 
But just as you attempted to trail her through the sea of tables, a booming voice caught your attention. 
“Hey!” 
The restaurant quieted. Heads turned in the direction of the outcry.
A large, gray-haired man with a soiled apron stepped into the hostess’s path, blocking her way. A deep crease formed between his furrowed brows. Sweat dotted his bright pink cheeks. This was the face of a man who stood over a hot grill for twenty-five years. He was familiar, but only vaguely so. You could’ve sworn you’d heard that voice before- though with a kinder intonation. And then it hit you.
During your last visit to the diner, he stopped by your table to ask how you liked the food. He was so kind, so even tempered. He thanked you for choosing to spend your Sunday morning at what used to be his father’s restaurant. He was so proud of the old place. So compassionate for its time-worn booths and outdated wallpaper. He told you how he worked in the kitchen for so long that now, even as the new owner and manager, he couldn’t stay away from the griddles. 
But the kind-hearted man you met last time was long gone.
“Not in my restaurant!” He ripped the menus from the hostess and dismissed her with a sharp wave of his hand. He glared at Bucky, his eyes brimming with hate. “We don’t serve murderers here!” 
The lighthearted chatter died out altogether. Forks stopped clinking against plates. Children halted their laughter. Hundreds of eyes locked on Bucky as his cheeks burst into a red flush.
“Get out before I call the police!” The man took a step toward the two of you, “You’re not welcome here, you psycho.”
“You can’t talk to him like that!” you barked back. “He isn’t-” 
“Baby, don’t,” Bucky cupped a hand around your upper arm and tried to gently pull you toward the door. “Let’s just go.”
“No,” you cut your gaze back to the manage, “not until he apologizes.”
Bucky gave your arm another tug, “please.”
The desperation in his voice nearly made you crack. His eyes swept across the room and back again, taking in each and every horrified stare. With each taunt the manager threw his way, the weight of the public eye grew heavier. More suffocating. Their stares pushed Bucky’s shoulders forward and his head down. He was crumbling.
Not one person stood up for Bucky. No one- aside from you- called the manager out. No patron even gave a disapproving shake of their head. It sickened you.
With a small nod, you obliged Bucky’s request, and let him lead you out of the restaurant. The stares followed him the entire way.
Bucky wanted to disintegrate. He wished to, once again, turn to dust and evaporate into the breeze. If he ran, he could put a few miles between himself and this godforsaken diner in minutes. But he found his feet rooted into the ground. He was frozen. Trapped. Running wasn’t an option.
He leaned against the cool glass window of the diner and let himself process. He heard you talking a mile a minute, reassuring him until you ran out of breath. But he couldn’t pick out more than a few words. It wasn’t until a defeated apology fell from your lips that he snapped out of his trance.
“Wait- you’re sorry?” 
You nodded. “I’m so sorry, Buck. You didn’t deserve that.”
“Baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.” His gaze fell into a strange middle distance, landing on everything and nothing all at once. “I should apologize. That article… it ruined everything. I feel like I-” His eyes met yours, “your life is never gonna be the same after this.” 
You gave him a shrug, “who says I want it to be?”
His eyes met yours as an exasperated laugh left his chest, “You’re kidding, right? This is going to affect everything for you: jobs, housing, friendships. When people look you up online, all they’re gonna see is that article. They’re gonna see me.”
“Good. I want them to see you,” you said with a wink. “If I’m gonna date the hottest guy in the universe, I want everyone to know about it.” Bucky didn’t laugh. “Babe, I’m not worried about that kind of stuff right now. I’m worried about you.”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his gaze fall to the sidewalk below. “I’ve been through worse.” 
The worn-out, beaten down quality of his voice was enough to make you weep. Bucky didn’t deserve more pain. He didn’t deserve to be treated like a monster. But society cast him out and labelled him a vicious predator. They abandoned him, left him in a corner to rot and wither. All alone. 
And you weren’t going to let them do it again.
“Fuck that article and fuck all these people who wanna disrespect you.” You tilted his chin upward until his eyes met yours, “we’re gonna go home and order take out. We’re gonna watch some movies. And we’re gonna get through this bullshit together.”
Without another word, you slipped your hand into his and started off in the direction of home. But Bucky didn’t move. 
You turned back to him, an expectant look on your face. “You coming?”
“But…” he gave the diner another look, “You didn’t get your chicken and waffles.”
“What?”
“You should go back inside and eat,” Bucky pulled his hand from yours. “I’ll head home and-”
“Buck, I say this with love, but-” you cupped his face, “are you nuts?”
He let out a deep, genuine laugh. 
“I’m not gonna eat here ever again,” you spied the manager through the window, “fuck that guy.”
Bucky just wanted you to enjoy the breakfast you’d been dreaming of. He hated that you were willing to deprive yourself. That he’d ruined your special breakfast spot. But your fierce loyalty filled him with warmth. In that moment, he made a mental note. He planned to scour the internet and find the best chicken and waffles in the city to make up for today’s mess.  
“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Bucky said. “You were ready to fist fight that guy.”
You put up your dukes and landed a few faux punches to Bucky’s chest, “hell yeah I was. No one is allowed to treat you like that.” Your hands fell to your sides. A sudden seriousness eclipsed your joking tone. “Ever.”
Bucky pulled you in for a hug, holding you close to his chest. He never thought he’d have someone like you in his life. Someone who loved him. Cared for him. Supported him. But, without fail, you had his back every time. You were his safe harbor, his soft place to land. 
Sometimes, he thought that maybe you were with him by accident. Maybe he was never meant to experience your gentle kind of love. Maybe he interrupted you on your path to someone else. Maybe he somehow got tangled in fate’s thread. But he didn’t care. 
You took Bucky’s hand once again, prepared to lead him in the direction of home, “Ready?” 
Bucky gave you a cheery nod, “let’s-”
“Fuck you, murderer!” a passerby shouted. He disappeared in a flash, bold enough to insult Bucky but cowardly enough not to hang around for the consequences. 
Bucky thought the man might’ve said something else as he bolted from the scene, but he didn’t quite catch it. He was too distracted by the vague sounds of discomfort grumbling out of your chest. 
“Doll? You alright?” 
Slowly, carefully, you turned to him. A look of shock yanked his features upward as he came face to face with the massive coffee stain covering your body. It splashed over the entirety of your chest, streaking down the front of your shirt. Steam still wafted from the drips running down your neck. Rogue droplets dotted your arms.  
“Oh my god…” Bucky didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to help you. 
The boiling tidal wave seared through your skin, setting each nerve alight. You could’ve sworn it hit bone. The sudden rush of pain forced a trembling into your hands, an unsteadiness into your voice. A stinging rush of tears brimmed against your lash line, but you wouldn’t dare let them fall. Not when you could practically see Bucky choking on his guilt.
“Wow, I wish that asshole was more of a cold brew guy,” you joked. “And he ruined my favorite shirt with his shitty aim.”
Bucky’s chest seemed to fold in on itself. It shuddered and shrank, collapsing against his thundering heart. Each inhale was shallower, greedier than the last. Oxygen leeched from his lungs as the crushing panic set it. An ever-darkening shadow clouded the edges of his vision- but he couldn’t succumb. Not when you needed him. 
Before he knew what was happening, he used his body to form a protective shell around you. He ushered you toward the diner door, scanning the area for oncoming threats. No one else was going to get to you- not today, not ever. 
A deep sigh of relief left Bucky’s chest as he ushered you inside. Sure, it was only coffee. And you weren’t even the target. But every passing second brought a new, horrifying ‘what if’ to the forefront of Bucky’s mind. 
What if you’d been thrown to the ground? 
What if you’d been shot? 
What if vengeful people wanted to spill your blood as payment for Bucky’s crimes?
He thought he might throw up. 
But the second he made it to the hostess stand, his nausea dissipated. The fog clouding his mind cleared. You were his priority- everything else could wait. 
“Someone just threw hot coffee on her,” Bucky said to the hostess. His words came out quick, firm. “She needs ice now.”
The hostess’s features sunk with a heavy guilt. “Oh, shit. I-” She glanced across the room at the manager and watched him with narrowed eyes as he schmoozed with the regulars. “I’ll go grab some right now, give me one second.”
The seconds dragged. Anxiety coursed through Bucky, prickling at his every cell. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Bit down on the inside of his cheek. Anything to calm the worry. But he couldn’t help it; you were attacked- because of him. And he needed to remedy it as quickly as possible. 
“You doing okay?” He stared down at you, worry creasing his features.
You nodded, “yeah. Doesn’t hurt that bad anymore. I think all of my nerves have gone numb, ya know?” You attempt at humor sunk like lead. 
“Baby, I’m so-”
“What the fuck did I say?!” the manager stomped over to Bucky, his wrath on full display. “I’m calling the cops! I already kicked you out once-”
Bucky held up a hand in surrender, “We just need some ice- the hostess went to get it. As soon as she gets back, I’ll go.”
The manager rolled his eyes, “No- you don’t get anything from us. Leave! I’m calling the police!”
It was then that the hostess appeared with a large plastic bag full of ice. She looked at you with kind eyes, apologizing silently for her manager’s behavior. “Here you go. Is this enough? I can get more-”
“It’s plenty, really,” you hastily grabbed for the bag and pressed it to your scorched skin. The cool sensation flooded your senses, doing away with any remaining discomfort. “Thank you.”
“Great, you got your ice,” the manager spat, “now get out.”
Bucky thanked the hostess a hundred times over as guilt settled in his stomach. He knew she’d get in trouble for helping him. He knew the manager would scream at her- most likely in front of everyone. But she’d shown the two of you kindness. She did her best to help you in a moment of need, regardless of what others said. And it renewed Bucky’s faith in strangers- if only for a moment.
“How does that feel? Is it okay?” Bucky eyed the dripping bag of ice, the shivering in your fingers. “I can ask her for-”
“Hey! Do you speak English, or just Russian?” The manager yelled, “GET. THE FUCK. OUT. You understand?”
Part of Bucky wanted to disappear into a cave for a while. Wanted to hide from the ridicule. But he couldn’t check out. He couldn’t evaporate and leave you to fend for yourself. No, he’d made a promise to himself the day he met you; he swore he’d always protect you. And though he couldn’t stop the public from treating you with malice, he could at least get you home safely.
“Woah, hey- where are you going?” Bucky put a hand over yours, halting your attempt to open the diner door.
“Well, I don’t know if you heard the lovely manager of this fine establishment,” you said, “but he wants us to, and I quote, ‘get the fuck out’. So that’s what I’m doing.”
Bucky gave a fervent shake of his head, “No. You wait in here. I’m gonna get us a cab, and-”
“It’s okay, I’ll come with you.” You gave the door a tug, but Bucky kept it from budging.
“Don’t,” a dark seriousness clung to Bucky’s words. “I don’t want anything else happening to you.”
Bucky’s protective nature was always sweet. Always made you feel special. You couldn’t help the tiny grin that pulled at your features. “Babe, it was just coffee-” 
“This time,” a grave look ghosted over his face. “It was just coffee this time.”
Bucky let his eyes drift to the busy sidewalk outside. Every stranger, every passing face posed a threat to your safety. Anyone could have a knife. A gun. And while Bucky was certain that the hot coffee had been meant for him- that you were simply collateral damage, an unintended target- he feared how the city might treat you. You’d already been followed, harassed, filmed, attacked. People saw you as fair game, as a token of retribution. An eye for an eye that made the city blind with hate.
“Can you just-” He dragged his gaze back to you, “will you please wait inside?”
Bucky couldn’t remember ever being this scared. Not on the train, not at Hydra. This was different; this was your life at stake. Your vulnerabilities exposed to the world. It was as if a magnifying glass sat posed above you, giving anyone and everyone a detailed look into your life. Bucky knew there wasn’t much time before the rays of the sun burned you alive.
“Okay, yeah,” you released the door handle, “I’ll stay in here.” It was the least you could do. 
He was deathly pale, his hand shaking with anxiety. He worried about you so intensely that you sometimes feared he’d get sick. And though no part of you wanted to send Bucky out there alone, you agreed. 
His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly; the whisper of a smile crossed his face. “Thank you,” he dropped a kiss to your forehead and headed outside to the world that hated him.
And hate him they did. You watched from the diner window, the scene that played out filling you with anguish. Not a single cab even slowed down for him. Vacant taxis turned off their lights as they approached- only to turn them back on once they’d passed. Bucky’s shoulders grew more slumped with each unsuccessful attempt at hailing a cab. His head drooped; his expression grew pained. This wasn’t fair. After his pardon, he’d worked so hard to earn the public’s trust, to reenter their good graces. He made his amends, went to therapy, even did a few interviews at Sam’s suggestion. 
One poorly written article in a shit-rag paper, however, was enough to send him back to square one.
All Bucky wanted was to get you home safely, and he couldn’t. He couldn’t even provide something that basic, that simple. He cursed himself relentlessly as taxi after taxi flew by. He was supposed to protect you, to take care of you. And yet, he was the reason for your pain. Your peril. It made him nauseous.
After countless failed attempts at securing a ride, Bucky turned to face you. He stared at you through the dirty glass, shame and disappointment dragging his features downward. For a long moment, he just stood there. Completely still. Passersby bumped into him every now and again. People muttered under their breath about him being in the way. But he didn’t move. He just looked at you, the person he loved most. You, the person he cared for above all else. You, the person he couldn’t protect. Couldn’t provide for. 
Part of him thought it best to just walk away. His absence would make your life easier, less chaotic. Safer. If he left you alone, maybe you’d find someone else. Someone normal. Someone better. Someone who could take you out to breakfast without putting you in harm’s way. Someone whose mere existence didn’t prompt strangers to scream at you in public. 
But he couldn’t leave you- ever. He was bound to you from day one. 
One last fruitless attempt at catching a cab sent his heart sinking down, down, down to the soles of his feet. And as he approached the diner with his tail between his legs, he felt himself stepping on it with each pace. He was so embarrassed, so ashamed. With a quick wave of his hand, he beckoned you to the door and popped his head inside. 
“Baby, could you…” he was almost too downtrodden to speak. “Could you get us a cab? No one will-” he cleared his throat, “No one will stop for me.”
The look on his face hurt worse than your scorched skin.
“Of course, Buck. Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”
It wasn’t lost on Bucky how quickly a cab stopped for you. It took less than a minute, maybe less thirty seconds. He stood on the sidelines, as far away from you as he could possibly get without leaving you defenseless. You looked good out there on your own, free from his burden. 
The cab ride home was quiet. Uncomfortable. The driver eyed Bucky in the rearview as though appraising a threat. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles lost all color. You swore you heard the gas pedal hit the floorboards more than once. The car sliced through traffic and screeched to a halt outside your building, throwing you forward in your seat. The seatbelt tightened against your scalded skin, pulling a groan from your throat.
“Thanks. Um,” Bucky handed the driver a wad of cash, “keep the change.” He kept his focus trained on you but couldn’t pretend he didn’t notice the way the driver flinched. The way his muscles yanked his body in the opposite direction. The way his hands shook as he took the money. Bucky wished to evaporate.
But he couldn’t, not yet. Not when you needed him. And so, he walked you upstairs and ushered you into the small apartment you shared. He double and triple checked the deadbolt, even pulled on the door to ensure your safety. He couldn’t let anything else happen to you- he’d rather die. 
“Alright, well, I’m gonna go take a shower,” you broke the tense silence. “I reek of cinnamon soy latte.” The laugh that punctuated your sentence did nothing to brighten Bucky’s stormy expression. 
“Sounds good, doll,” he nodded. “You can just drop your clothes in the hall, I’ll throw them in the laundry for you.”
“You don’t have to do that,” you frowned down at your coffee-stained shirt, appraising the damage done. “I don’t think this thing can be saved.”
Bucky shrugged, “It couldn’t hurt. I’ll give it a try.” He dropped a kiss to the top of your head, “it’s the least I could do.” And with a light tap to your ass, he sent you off to shower. The gesture wasn’t as lighthearted as it was just a few hours earlier, but he was trying. Trying to appear less dejected. Less broken.
But you saw through the façade.
When you emerged, free from the smell of coffee, you found Bucky in the kitchen standing over the kettle. He stared down at it, his hands resting on either side of the stove top, his shoulders nearly reaching his ears. You knew that look- he was lost inside his own head. 
“You know, I don’t think you’re supposed to watch that thing…” you said, snapping him out of his train of thought. “Otherwise, it’ll never boil.” 
His head snapped up. The darkness clouding his eyes parted. He smiled at your lame joke, letting your lighthearted tone lift his spirits. “I was just gonna make you a tea, I know you haven’t had the easiest day.” He just wanted to right the ship, to steer the two of you out of the dark, choppy waters in which you found yourselves. Maybe, this small, kind gesture could make up for your ruined Saturday. Maybe, it would keep you from leaving. 
“How was your shower?”
Just thinking about it made you wince. “It was fine, I guess. I had to use the coldest water possible- any warmth at all made my skin hurt.” 
Bucky’s eyes flicked from your face to the kettle and back. Worry creased his brow. “Should I not…” He sighed, “Are hot beverages out of the question?” He couldn’t believe how absentminded he’d been. 
“No! Definitely not,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “you know I’ll always take a tea. Thanks, babe.”
A small, proud smile spread across Bucky’s face. For once, he didn’t disappoint you. For once, he didn’t ruin the moment. After such a nightmarish day, he finally breathed easy, knowing that he’d done one thing right.
“I was thinking I could run out and grab us something to eat,” Bucky said when he got you settled on the couch with your tea and a fresh ice pack. “I know you’re probably starving. And I could-”
“Baby, no,” you shook your head. “I don’t want you out there- I don’t want you getting harassed or attacked. We’re in hermit mode for a few days until this whole thing blows over. Okay?”
Bucky barely mustered a nod. 
“Let’s just order some take out. What sounds good?” You dropped your ice pack to the side, grimacing at the loss of the cool sensation. But comfort could wait. You opened your laptop and sat up, poised to take Bucky’s order. But he didn’t answer. 
He remained silent for a long while, eyeing the floor with a blank stare. His nails dug into the palm of his hand; his jaw tensed. Something deep within him fought tooth and nail to claw its way out. It scratched at his insides, screaming for release. Bucky didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to even chance upsetting you. But the words slipped out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them.
“Do you ever regret this?”
You cocked your head to the side, “Regret what?”
“This-” Bucky gestured to himself, and then you. “Us.”
The words hurt worse than your scorched chest. “No. Why would you even say that?”
Bucky shrugged, “Because you’re covered in second degree burns and it’s my fault.” Never before had he ever sounded this broken, this hopeless. Not even after Steve left. 
“Buck, it’s not your fault,” you shut your computer and inched closer to him. “You’re not the one who threw hot coffee on me-”
“But the person who did was aiming for me, and you got caught in the crossfire,” he choked out. “That’s my fault.”
“It’s not-”
He stood suddenly, his anxiety forcing him to move. “Can you deal with this for the rest of your life? All the staring and the harassment? And the hiding at home because everyone hates me? Is that the kind of life you want?” He paced with a fervent drive, fearing that if he didn’t burn through the nervous energy, he’d suffocate under it.
But, even in the face of his frantic movements, you remained seated, remained calm. Talking to Bucky in this state was like coaxing an injured animal into your home. One wrong move, and he’d bolt. Every move, ever word, had to be slow, measured. With an even tone and soft words, you refuted his sentiments. “I want whatever kind of life lets me be with you-”
“You want people throwing coffee on you forever? You want-” He paused, only to place your icepack on your chest once again. “You want to be kicked out of restaurants and denied cabs? Just to be with me?”
One small nod. “Yes.”
Bucky stopped in his tracks. He turned to you, his expression blank. “People used to vandalize my apartment, you know…”
“What?”
He nodded. “After I finally came back to New York and tried to settle in…” The memories of those uncomfortable, disjointed days filled Bucky with dread. He’d never been so lonely, so lost. He pulled away from you, fearing he’d complicated your life. He forced himself into isolation. And to make matters worse, his community turned their back on him. They didn’t welcome him home or celebrate his survival. They made him wish he’d never made it back. “They broke my windows, filled my mailbox with pictures of my victims, used animal blood to write ‘KILLER’ across my front door-” He let out a heavy sigh, one that came from deep within his bones. “That’s why I moved so often. My landlords- no matter how sketchy they were, no matter how much illegal shit they did to their tenants- kept kicking me out. I was too much of a liability, even for those shithole places.”
It left you reeling. Images of Bucky coming home to find his place completely trashed hurt you in a way you didn’t know was possible. You could see him, covered in blood, scrubbing his front door in the middle of the night. Wiping tears from his eyes as he looked through piles of photos of the people he hurt. Taping pieces of cardboard over his broken windows in the hopes of keeping out the severe, violent winters. He didn’t deserve any of it.
With a deep breath, you forced yourself back to the present. “Buck, I don’t care about things like that. They can vandalize our place if they want. They can throw coffee at me.” Slowly, carefully, you rose from the couch. “As long as nothing happens to you, I’m happy.”
A rough scoff launched out of Bucky’s throat, “Come on-”
“No, you come on,” Your words came out too intense, too hard. But you couldn’t maintain your even keel anymore. Not when Bucky was moments from unraveling. “I have been in this with you since the day we met. I knew- almost immediately- that you were the person I wanted to be with. Even when you didn’t know where- or who- you were. Even when you went back into cryo. Even when you turned to dust and disappeared for five years.” Dredging up the past hurt. It sliced you open and tore your heart into pieces. But you didn’t dare fall apart- not yet. “Even when you pushed me away,” your voice wavered, “I have been with you- and I always will be. Because I know who you are. I know you’re a good person.” A few tears dripped down your cheeks, “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.“
“Why?” Bucky shook his head, “I don’t- I can’t understand that.”
“Because you’re just- you’re you, baby,” you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Bucky’s existence. “You’re kind. And you’re thoughtful. And you’re compassionate. You care about everything. Everyone. I’ve never met anyone with a heart like yours…” You shrugged, “I love you. So much.”
“I know you do. And I love you, but…” His eyes dropped to the floor, “I feel like being with me is a waste of your time. A waste of your love. You know? You should be with someone good. Someone with less baggage, whose hands aren’t stained with the blood of innocent people.” He dragged his gaze up to meet yours, desperation in his eyes. “I want to give you everything- I want to give you the world. But I can’t. I can’t give you what other people can. I can’t give you what you deserve.”
“I don’t want any of that- I don’t want the world,” you shrugged. “I want you.” To you, it was simple. Completely uncomplicated. But Bucky didn’t see it that way.
“Is that- am I enough, though? I mean, the quality of life I’ve given you so far has been…” He thought back on all the terrors and trials you’d face together. All the disasters to which he subjected you. He shuddered. “Everything I put you through is so fucking messed up. And scary. And painful. And-” 
He shook his head. Since the day he fell for you, he knew one simple truth. And for years, he did his best to deny it. Hide it. Run from it. But it came spilling forward all at once.
“There’s always gonna be something with me. Some problem, some mess. I’m either gone for weeks, fighting god knows who, completely unable to talk to you until I show up at home covered in blood,” he said. “Or I’m here with you while strangers to accost you on the street because they hate me.” He shook his head, disappointed in himself. Why did he allow you into his dumpster fire of a life? Why would he subject you to the heartache and the misery he knew lurked around every corner?
He fought the tears gathering in his eyes, the emotion that attempted to block his airway. “The waters are never going to be smooth. Not with me. And I don’t want you to have to deal with the fucking tidal wave of bullshit that is my life. You deserve better- you deserve better than me.”
“Buck-”
“I want your life to be safe. Peaceful. Comfortable. Not-” he gestured to the icepack on your chest, “whatever it is now.”
Without a word, you took him by the hand and led him to the couch. And for a long moment, he refused to sit with you. He didn’t want to give in, to lower his defenses and allow himself to get comfortable. But your red-rimmed eyes, glassy with tears, forced him to take a seat.
And when he finally rested beside you, you ditched your icepack and took his face in your hands. “Everything you said that you want for me? I already have it. I have all of that.”
He shook his head, “Doll-” 
“You make me feel safer and more comfortable than I ever have. Being with you is like being wrapped in a warm blanket made of bullet proof bubble wrap.”
Bucky couldn’t stop himself from letting out a quiet laugh. 
“I’m serious. You can talk about how the life I lead with you isn’t enough and how you’re not enough, but this,” you gestured to yourself and then him, “is everything I’ve ever wanted. Being here with you in our home is… it’s the most peace I’ve ever known. Even when we’re just sitting in silence, it’s- it’s warm. It’s comforting.” You inched closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder, “It’s like we’re the only two people on the planet. And we can just exist in the other’s atmosphere without pressure or fear. We understand each other. And it’s perfect.”
A rush of pink colored Bucky’s cheeks. Sometimes, even after all the years he’d spent with you, he didn’t know how to handle such loving sentiments. But there was no pressure to perfectly articulate his thoughts or express himself without flaws. A simple “I love you” did the trick. He leaned into you, allowing your warmth to soothe his aching soul.
“All that shit that happened today didn’t even bother me much,” you told him. “The lady in the bookstore, and the staring, and the coffee thing- I can deal with that kind of stuff. I can take that every day as long as I get to be with you.”
He pressed a kiss to your hair and caught a vague whiff off coffee but didn’t bring it up. 
“The only part that really upset me,” you continued, “was seeing people be so mean to you. And watching you get so down on yourself.” Reliving Bucky’s heartbroken expression at the diner almost made you tear up. “I can handle a rogue Starbucks, but I’ll never accept anyone treating you like that. You're everything to me- you always will be.”
Bucky handed you your icepack, begging you to put it back on your scalded skin where it belonged. “Well, I appreciate your support," he smiled to himself, "and your fierce loyalty.”
A mischievous laugh rumbled out of your chest. “Good. Just remember than when I call you from the county jail after I get arrested for burning that fucking newspaper to the ground.”
---------------
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enchantedbarnes · 1 year
Text
Uncle Buck
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Single Aunt!Reader
Summary: You take your nephew to a Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson Q&A event. The mischievous 8-year-old asks if he can get in line to ask a question. Against your better judgement you agree and let him go up by himself.
Word Count: 626
Masterlist: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six
A/N: I had no intention to write anything on this account but here we are. Excuse the mess.
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A young boy - 8 years old, dark hair and eyes full of mischief - walks up to the microphone.
"Hi, I have a question for Bucky..." He asks shyly.
The moderator nods, "What's your question for him, little man?"
The boy looks over at the seats nearby behind him and smirks, turning back to the stage with some more confidence this time.
"Will you marry my Aunt?"
The crowd let's out collective gasps, giggles, and awws. There's some cheering and a loud "OW OWWWW."
You inhale quickly and choke on your own air supply, trying to compose yourself. "BENJAMIN!!!"
You're horrified and shrink down in your seat while pulling your hood up over your head for added cover.
While you contemplate the fastest way to snatch the little traitor and get out of there as swiftly as possible you hear Sam's loud laugh echo through the room.
"I assume that was your Aunt and you're Benjamin?" Bucky asks while smirking.
Tiny traitor nods while grinning ear to ear. "I'm Benji, Auntie's name is Y/n and she thinks you're sooo handsome," he exaggerates with an eye roll, "and she's super fun and pretty and you'd be the coolest unc--"
Exit plan secured you jump out of your seat and rush over to cover his mouth and pull him back from the mic. Your hood still up and head ducked down.
"You said you were asking about the mechanics of his arm, you tiny little punk," you mutter at him but the microphone still picks up what you said.
While you have him secured in a headlock you quickly speak into the mic, avoiding all eye contact. "I apologize, I've never met this child before... I'm going to return him to the proper authorities immediately."
Picking your nephew up as quickly as you can, you toss him over your shoulder. His fit of giggles exploding while he tries yelling out again, "But he hasn't answered yet!"
"He's free later tonight, Aunt Y/n!" Sam shouts while you retreat to the back of the conference room towards the exit. "Your future family seems nice," he jokes while nudging Bucky's arm.
Benji tries to shout back across the room, "SHE IS FREE TOO!! EVERY NIGHT!!"
You shove the exit door open, "You're so dead. On my pick up days for school I will be blasting every embarrassing song I can find with the windows down. I'm going to start saving now and I will be buying every ad space available in your future yearbooks and I will be plastering them with your baby photos. And not the cute ones." Like this kid ever took a photo that wasn't cute.
***
The two of you walk around a food truck area set up outside the conference space. Benji is happily eating a pretzel you only bought so your sister wouldn't kill you for neglecting her child. You grab a seat at a small table to people-watch while he finishes up his undeserved treat.
You let your hood down, setting your vibrant and wild hair free. The color is easy to pick out in a crowd.
Benji is explaining in great detail the plot to a video game he has been playing with his friends and how one level keeps tripping them up.
The chair next to you slides back, "Is this seat open?" A deep voice asks.
Benji grins, "Yes!"
You already know who it is, but you're still startled when you look over and see none other than Bucky Barnes sitting with you and the small trouble matchmaker.
"So... is the potential cool Uncle position still available?" He smirks, hand on his chin looking over at both of you.
This little punk might be getting free pretzels and ice cream for life.
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Alright folks! By popular demand, here is part 2!
Uncle Buck Returns
5K notes · View notes
writing-for-marvel · 10 months
Note
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A Solid Foundation
Builder!Bucky Barnes x Fiancé!Fem!Reader
Summary: Your best friend suspects your fiancé of having an affair when he starts working late, but Bucky would never cheat on you, right?
Warnings: slight angst - discussion of Bucky potentially cheating (no actual cheating), soft fluff
Word count: 2.4k
A/N: thank you so much for this gorgeous inspiration my love 💕 this is my second entry for the Connect 4: Into an Alternate June-iverse Event by @buckybarnesevents, for the prompt ‘Modern AU’. Banners by @vase-of-lilies
Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library
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“Where’s Bucky? You two just got engaged, I would have thought he’d barely be able to keep his hands off you - he does at the best of times.” Nat jokes before taking a sip of her wine.
She had been stopping off at your apartment on her way home to drop some supplies for your engagement party next weekend, when you invited her to stay for a drink, wanting to take your mind off your fiancés absence.
“He’s been working late recently.” You try to say nonchalantly, but Nat’s far too observant to miss the disheartened edge to your voice.
“He’s a builder. Start early, finish early, what’s he doing still working at 6:30?” You didn’t know the answer to that question. And though part of you is curious as to what he’s up to, you’re also nervous to find out the truth.
It’s Bucky, the man who has loved you through every high and low, treasured every part of you, especially on those days where your insecurities were at their worst. Who has done the silliest, most embarrassing things just to hear your laugh. Who trusted you enough to reveal his deepest trauma, who comes to your arms for comfort through every nightmare.
You find it difficult to believe that man would be capable of hurting you, even knowing he hadn’t been completely forthcoming with you the past few weeks.
“I’m not sure, he’s been a little secretive since we got engaged. I don’t wanna push him to talk about it, I just wish he knew he can trust me with whatever it is.” You say as Nat supportively takes your hand, something of sympathy in her eyes.
“Oh sweetie, you are far too pure for this world. Working late, the ring, the secrecy - has it crossed your mind that he might be having an affair?”
“It crossed my mind for half a second before I scolded myself. It’s Bucky, he would never cheat on me.” You state with conviction, the memory of each night you’ve fallen to a peaceful sleep in Bucky’s arms only supporting your belief that he would never put himself in that position with someone else.
“As much as I want to believe you, you know I’m a cynic. In my experience men are pigs, you give them an inch and they take a mile. I know he’s sweet and you love him, but at the end of the day, he is a man.”
But Nat doesn’t know Bucky intimately like you do, hasn’t experienced his selfless and generous heart day after day for the past two years, hasn’t been loved all-encompassingly by him like you have.
You’ve never even thought to question his loyalty to you - Bucky has never given you reason to.
You hear keys rattle in the front door and shoot Nat a look which unquestionably screams don’t bring this up.
Bucky smiles instantly when he sees you seated at the dining table, that same adoration and serenity brimming in his eyes as when he always comes home to you. Though you do notice his skin is somewhat flushed, as if he’s just been physically exerting himself, his hair looks a complete mess and appears slightly darker with sweat.
You know exactly what’s running through Nat’s mind at this very moment.
“I’m gonna let you two talk.” She declares with a perceptible tension in her tone as she stands and grabs her purse. “But I swear if you ever hurt her Bucko, you’ll die a slow, painful death.” She vows with a glare that seals her promise. Though you know Nat well enough to perceive she isn’t joking, Bucky seems to think she’s kidding.
“Duly noted Nattie.” He chuckles as he watches Nat shoot you an encouraging look and then make her way out the front door Bucky just walked through. “What was that all about?”
“She’s just being protective.” You justify, not knowing how to, nor really wanting to tell him that your best friend suspects he’s having an affair. “I told her you’d been working late recently.”
“What… she thinks I should instead be here doting on you hand and foot?” Bucky asks as he moves behind where you’re seated, his hands reach for the back of your neck and begin massaging the tension from your shoulders which had built up from your long week at work. “You know I’d much prefer to be here with you than working.” You shudder slightly at his words as he places a gentle kiss to the skin where your neck curves into your shoulder, your body subconsciously revealing that you don’t fully believe he was working.
“What’s wrong, doll?” He asks, feeling your muscles tense even further underneath his hands, and you internally curse yourself for letting Nat’s speculation get under your skin.
“Where were you tonight?” It’s a simple, four word question, yet the weight of significance on his answer feels like your whole world could start crumbling before you depending on his response.
“I told you this morning: Steve needed me working late.” Bucky replies without hesitation. It’s a straightforward answer, yet there’s something about it you can’t quite believe - a half truth that he’s practised too much that doesn’t quite feel natural. “Why do you ask?” There’s a hint of worry to his voice, as if you’re getting a little too close to something he’d like to keep to himself.
“Nat thinks ‘working late’ is code for you cheating on me.” You comment, placing all the blame on your friends postulation rather than your own curiosity.
You hope Bucky won’t hate you too much for indulging in your friends theory, that he won’t completely resent you for insinuating he’s been unfaithful. Because you don’t think he’s cheating on you, but you also don’t believe he was working late tonight.
Instead, Bucky steps towards you and tentatively places two gentle fingers under your chin, tilting your face so that you’re gazing directly into his vulnerable, sincere eyes.
“Doll, you know I would never, ever, hurt you like that. I love you, you’re my whole world, I wanna marry you and spend the rest of my days making you feel as loved and cherished as you make me feel.” You sense the heaviness of your engagement ring on your left hand, you’re still getting used to carrying the small weight of it around with you everyday, though right now it feels substantial.
“I know you wouldn’t Buck, but since you proposed you’ve been a little secretive. Long days, working weekends. I mean you have to admit it’s slightly suspicious.”
He sighs, coming to some sort of internal decision when his gaze meets yours again. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you in an attempt to distract you from the topic of discussion.
“I promise you, I can explain everything, but I think it would be easier to show you.” His hands snake down your arms and when he takes both your hands, pulls you from your seated position at the dining table.
“Show me?” You query, having no idea what that could indicate he’s been keeping to himself.
“Yeah, care for a drive?”
* * *
The night is dark as you sit in the passenger seat watching the world pass you by, the empty roads only lit by periodically placed street lamps and the bright headlights of Bucky’s truck.
You have no idea where he’s taking you - you’ve never been to this part of town before and have no preconceived ideas as to what being here indicates for his unplanned surprise.
Bucky drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other rests comfortingly on your thigh, an indicator that he’s not upset about you insinuating he could be having an affair, and that where he’s taking you to is not a revelation you should be anxious about.
Soon enough he turns down an innocuous street and pulls the car to a slow stop. You're in the middle of a suburban area with expansive blocks of land, stopped a few metres behind an SUV that has stickers of a family of five and a dog on their back window. Looking over at Bucky, you find he’s staring at you with an excited expectancy from the driver's seat.
You turn to look out the car window and the reason Bucky’s been ‘working late’ hits you like a bus.
You’re parked in front of a half built house - at the moment it’s just studs and partitions, with an unemptied skip out the front, but you can see the skeleton of a beautifully spacious two story house.
He’s building you a home.
“Bucky…” You comment under your breath, unable to articulate the swarm of thoughts buzzing around your head and the pure love blooming in your chest like a flower as he rounds the car and opens the passenger door for you.
“I know it doesn’t look like much yet, it’s just the frame and foundation, but soon there will be a roof, walls, windows, and a proper floor. It’ll really start taking shape.” He's nervous, you can tell by his shaky tone of voice, which you find adorable.
“You’re building us a house?” Your stomach contorts with guilt when he smiles crookedly and nods. How could you have ever been suspicious of his long working hours when they were spent building a physical monument to his love for you?
“I wanted to build our dream house, somewhere we can grow old together.” Your heart just about bursts when these words fall from his lips. Though the night is dark, the moon and the small torch Bucky keeps in his truck are the only source of light available, you can see the fondness in his eyes.
You give him a sweet kiss before approaching the house, an outline in chalk on the ground indicates where a front porch will be built and the entry to the house is currently only the rectangular frame of timber.
Bucky starts walking you through the house hand in hand, explaining what he had planned each room to be used for. There's only wooden studs outlining every room and a concrete slab for a floor, but you can already imagine what the space will look like when it’s all complete.
The entry foyer has high ceilings where you can currently see the stars shining, a large winding staircase connects the ground floor with the one above. To one side is a large garage, an offset office and bathroom, to the other has a large sitting room.
As Bucky pulls you further into the structure, the house opens up to a large, open plan living area. You can picture cooking together in the kitchen, room enough for a large island where you can sit and watch as Bucky cooks you breakfast, sneaking kisses in between breaking eggs. A smile grows on your features as you imagine what the future holds for you two, and what you envisage is beautiful.
He shows you where he thinks the lounge room television would go, before steering you to the right to an open room where the walls don’t have horizontal studs like all the other rooms you’ve seen so far.
“And this will be your sunroom.” He comments, eying you with a smile as your jaw drops in awe.
“A sunroom?” You ask as your voice cracks and hot tears well in your eyes.
Your dream house always seemed so far out of reach, you wondered if you would ever earn enough to own a place of your own. But it didn’t stop you from wishing for your dream house. That concept had changed over the years, but the one aspect which remained the same was it containing a sunroom. A place where you could sit in quiet contemplation and read your plethora of novels in peace, the warm afternoon sun heating the room as you draped your legs over beloveds, finding tranquillity together.
Bucky really is making all your dreams come true.
“It wouldn’t be our dream home if we didn’t have the sunroom you always wished for. This entire wall will be a huge built-in bookshelf, then the rest will be just glass, looking out over our backyard and have the perfect view of the setting sun.”
You find yourself completely lost for words, unable to articulate how remarkable this entire house is, that he built it for you, and how you will forever come home to a physical reminder of just how much Bucky loves you.
“If there’s anything you don’t like I’ll change it. I want it to be perfect, I want you to love it.” He says as if he can’t see that you already adore every inch of the house he’s built, thinking that your silence indicates aversion rather than pure amazement.
“Bucky, it’s already perfect.” You lean over to kiss him, slow and sweet, because you need to express the overwhelming gratitude and affection for him doing something so special for you. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you when you were putting in your spare hours to build us a home.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry, doll, I shouldn’t have lied to you about where I was and what I was doing, but I wanted it to be a surprise.” His arms snake around your middle and pull you closer to him so none of the cool night air separates you.
“It is a surprise, such a wonderful surprise. I love you so much and I can’t wait to spend our life together here.” You say, looking up at him with wide eyes, only closing them to kiss the stubble on his sharp jawline.
“I love you more than you’ll ever know.” Bucky places a kiss to your forehead, his voice soft but heartfelt and full of tenderness.
For a moment you stay cuddled into his strong, warm chest, his arms gently stroking up and down your back in soothing motions, feeling completely loved and so excited to start your marriage in a new home together.
“Will you show me the bedrooms upstairs?” You ask with a small voice, part of you not wanting to move from Bucky’s embrace, but also intrigued to see how much more work he’s done in the name of love for you.
“Of course, my love.”
He kisses you once more, for emphasis, before guiding you carefully upstairs to show you the spacious master bedroom where you will be spending your first nights as a married couple.
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If you're interested in seeing the floorplan I based the house off, you can find that here
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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 4 months
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DAY TWENTY-FIVE: Window Sex w/ CEO!Bucky Barnes
a/n: I am stubborn and I refuse to not finish this challenge SOOOO sit back as I post these throughout November and December!! This is your Christmas present and my gratitude for all of the support you've all given me :]
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This was supposed to be a nice date where you went out to eat at a stupidly expensive restaurant, then afterwards Bucky would take you literally anywhere you wanted to go and would spend as much money on you as you wanted.
It was like clock work at this point, it had been this way when you were only his sugar baby and not his fiancee, but now that you were to be married, it got even worse. Every little thing you'd say, he'd commit to memory, like one night you'd told him that you wanted to see the world one day.
So, of course Bucky bought the tallest building in the city for you. To say you were in shock and awe would honestly be an understatement, but the words were stolen right out of your mouth when he pressed his body against yours from behind you.
You knew what he wanted, and who gets to say they fucked in the tallest building of New York that you now owned? A rich woman's luxuries, you suppose.
"Fuck, Buck!" You squealed, hands pressing hard against the class. The lavish day dress that you ventured out in this evening now lay pushed up over your hips. Bucky's suit was completely untucked, his pants dropped all the way down to his ankles.
Vulnerability with your finacee used to be luxury when you weren't together, but now it's almost like a second nature.
"You think those people can see us from down there?" He rasped, his hands tightly gripping your hips. Your gut twisted at the idea, partly in embarrassment but also in arousal. "Mhm." You whined in denial.
"No?" His question of amusement exited him in a slight pant. "You wanna change that, huh? Pull your dress down those beautiful tits and press 'em against the glass?" His dirty words caused you to clench down on him, your hips desperately flying back to meet his.
"Ah— fuck." He swore. "You like that, huh?" He cooed.
"Alright then baby, give 'em a show."
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notafunkiller · 4 months
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Summary: Unable to keep the charade up, you finally confront Bucky, telling him the whole truth.
Pairing: (fake) boyfriend’s brother!Bucky Barnes x female reader
Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 26, Bucky is 39), teasing, dirty talk, or@l sex, fingering, protected séx, pet names, daddy kínk, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n
Word Count: 4.5K
story masterlist
Bucky Barnes masterlist
A/N: This story will have 4 parts, this is the 3rd part.
Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!
Avoiding Bucky for two weeks was hard, but fortunately, he didn’t try to push you at all, which made it bearable.
You miss him, though. You always enjoyed his company, and it feels like you are slowly losing a friend. But what’s your alternative?
As much as you try to be polite, William’s friends completely ignore you when you ask them how they are. So you give up quickly, spending time on your phone as you try to ignore them. You can’t go to your room because that would not fit the fake image, so you’re stuck.
You know William is not a bad guy, and he tried to get closer to you a couple of times, but he’s not the type of person you’d see yourself with. Not even as real friends. You’re just too different, and it’s not like either of you wanted to be in this situation.
Bucky has been busy all evening. From what you heard, he’s been working on an important project this week, even at home. But you are happy to see him coming downstairs, probably headed to the kitchen. At least, he’s alive.
“Hi.”
Everyone acknowledges him immediately, and he gives you a warm smile before going to the kitchen, as you thought.
A few minutes later, when he returns, he’s carrying a plate with two sandwiches and a drink in his left hand. William immediately reaches for the glass, and Bucky gives him a pointed look.
“That’s not for you.”
“Come on, you always let me try.”
You can’t help but roll your eyes at his tone. He acts like a kid a lot of times.
“This is for your girlfriend, punk. The one you’ve been ignoring.” You look at him surprised as he hands you the drink. How did he know?
Everyone turns to look at you, but you ignore them.
“Thank you.”
Cherries again... You blush.
“You’re welcome, hopefully you’ll drink it this time.”
For some reason, this is enough to make this whole avoiding him plan of yours go down the drain  and before you know what you’re doing, you’re in your room calling your mom and demanding her to stop this nonsense and let you come home. Because they can do it in another way. You can’t pretend to be a couple for years, can you? What about your life? What about what you want? You’ve already done so much for them, and you are sick and tired of lying.
Same goes for William. He must want the same thing as you do.
But she brushes you off, trying to make you see from their point of view. Because this is what your father wanted. And you never felt sicker.
“He wouldn’t give you the opportunity to run anything otherwise, baby. You have to do this... I am sorry.”
“No, you’re not! You’re fucking not! Otherwise, you would have left him. He controls you and me. He’s been doing it your whole marriage, and I am sick of it. I won’t let him treat me like this anymore.”
There is dead silence on the other side of the phone for a couple of seconds, and you have to forcefully bite your lip to keep the sobs down. You can almost taste the blood.
“Please, honey, there’s nothing I can do.”
You cannot take any more of her tone, so gou simply hang up and put your phone on silent just in case.
There’s nowhere you can go. Nothing you can do to escape this if you want an opportunity to do things your way. Your father uses you, and your mom doesn’t have your back.
It’s suffocating you, and it’s also terrifying how alone you can be despite not being theoretically alone.
He deserves better, too. He deserves to know.
That snaps something inside you, and before you can change your mind, you get out of your room, fixing your hair and wiping your tears with the back of your hand.
William’s friends are still downstairs, playing something based on their voices, but you ignore them. You go straight to Bucky’s door and knock desperately.
You still jump when he opens it, and you can spot the worry in his eyes right away.
He was taking a bath, you notice the water droplets running down his face and body. He probably threw his shorts and tank top on quickly, but you don’t care. He needs to know.
“What’s wrong?”
“I gotta tell you something. Right now.”
You get inside his room without waiting for an invitation, and only when you hear the door closing, you turn to look at him.
“They’re lying to you. Everyone is lying to you, including me. And I’m sorry.”
He comes closer, concerned. “What are you lying to me about, huh?”
“It’s not true. None of this is true.”
“What’s not true?” He presses again. You’re finally in his room, you’ve stopped avoiding him, yet you’re still panicking. And all he wants is to make sure you’re okay. “Take it easy. Try to speak slowly, you are running out of air.”
“About William and I… We’re not together for real. It’s all a scam.”
He's speechless for a couple of seconds, frozen on spot, before you watch him start to laugh hysterically.
“I am serious, Bucky. It’s for the merger of the companies.” You continue, thinking he doesn’t believe you. Because why would he? “Your dad wanted to make sure mine won’t back off so they used me. I swear, I can show you-”
“I believe you, I believe you.” He's surprisingly calm as he speaks, as if you didn’t relieve a huge secret. “That’s not why I laughed.”
“I am sorry. I didn’t know why they wanted to keep it away from you, but I-”
“Why did you agree to all of this? What’s in it for you besides the misery of living here?” He asks, so much closer all of a sudden.
“Nothing now.” You sigh, but you don’t care. Even if you have nothing, at least he knows. And sadly, he doesn’t seem surprised by his parents’ actions. “I was supposed to get my dad’s  support with a small business. I also wanted to run a charity organization... accepting this  was the condition so I can have what I want. It’s stupid, I know. I am twenty-”
“I sensed something was wrong with this whole relationship thing. No couple acts the way you two do, but I thought maybe I was overthinking.” His clothes are fully getting wet now, and you can’t help but stare at his chest. Shit...
“I know.”
“I should have figured out what’s going on.”
His tone seems light, as if you’re not talking about how you all made him believe in a lie for months. You fight the impulse to beg for his forgiveness. You feel like a horrible, horrible human being.
“I am so sorry, Bucky,” you cry. “I should have told you. I am not a good friend, and I am so sorry. But now you know, I couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. I didn’t want to, you deserve so much better than all of this.”
“I know you wanted to.” His hand is on your shoulder all of a sudden, and you gasp at the contact. “On my birthday.”
“Yes,” you whisper. “I wanted to tell you a lot of times actually. But I am a coward. William and your parents-”
“You’re not his,” he interrupts you once again, shaking his head as if he can’t believe it. “You’ve never been his.”
You know what he means by his, and you want to correct him and tell him you’re not an object to be someone’s. But you remembered how much you thought about the possibility of Bucky being yours in the past few weeks, so...
“No, I am not.”
“Good.” He grabs you by the back of your head. “I've wanted to kiss ever since I saw you, don’t you know that?”
You gasp. “James-”
“Tell me you want me. Tell me that, and I’m yours. I don’t care about them, I care about you.”
“But I lied to you.”
“You didn’t want to lie to me, though. Analyze the context you are in a little.” He looks drunk as he stares at you, wanting nothing more than to kiss you.
You shake your head. “I can’t do the fun thing with you, okay?”
“Fun thing?”
“I can’t be like Cherry. I can’t stay friends with you after I kiss you.” And you wouldn’t want to even if you could.
He leans in until his mouth reaches your ear. “Who said I wanted that, princess? I told you I am yours.”
“Are you playing a game?”
“Sure,” he says immediately. “I can play any game you want if that makes you want to be mine.”
“Fucking hell,” you moan, feeling so many things at once. He’s seriously giving zero shits about this whole thing, and he’s touching you. Just like you touched him on his birthday. It feels forbidden and wrong, but also perfect. You can have him now. You can kiss him. And you do, bringing his head down so your lips can meet.
You moan quite loudly, but you can’t hold back. Not when he grabs your ass and pulls you closer to him. You hiss when you feel him lifting you in the air so you can wrap our legs around his hips. He’s so hard. So, so hard! And wet all over. You can feel him properly.
He groans when you deepen the kiss, but you’re so into it you could barely hear him.
“Jesus, you taste so good, baby, so good.” He continues to kiss you until you feel like you can’t breathe. You start to move your hips without realizing, chasing the friction because it just feels so good, even with your pants on.
“James, please.”
“Please, what?” He grinds back a little to tease you and you almost cry. So much desire has been bottled inside you for months. “Come on, use your big girl words, baby.”
“I need you. I’m so wet… I need to come.” So much!
“And you want me to make you come?”
You groan. “Obviously!”
“Then ask me to.”
“Come on, James!” You grab his face desperately. “Come on, make me come. Please!”
He smiles widely, and this boyish smirk only makes him look cuter. You want to eat him whole.
“Of course, baby. So polite.”
He doesn’t waste time after your back hits the bed. He starts to undress you quickly, not caring about his sheets getting wet. You help him by lifting your arms and your hips from time to time, but he manages to get everything off in record time.
You can’t believe you’re doing this, to be honest. The reality hits you when he leans in to kiss you, his wet T-shirt making your nipples harden even more. You’re naked in his bed...
“Hey, you’re okay?” His voice is so soft that you can’t help but smile.
“Yes, I’m just... I can’t believe this is real. I haven’t prepared for it.”
“You’re so cute when you’re shy.” He kisses your lips once again. “And when you’re angry.” The trail of kisses is getting lower and lower with every word. “And when you tell me what to do.”
His mouth stops right on your left breast, his hand grabbing the other one.
You moan, losing yourself slowly to the overwhelming sensation, making it hard to focus or think.
“And when you do as I tell you to.” His tongue is everywhere: from your skin to, finally, your nipple, wetting it with his tongue before he properly sucking it.
You jump from the sudden pleasure and grab his hair.
“Feels so good.”
He switches to the other breast as soon as you speak again. “Fuck, I wanted to sleep on these for a long time. I’m depraved, aren’t I? Wanting to fuck my brother’s girl and suck on her tits before passing out on them from exhaustion.”
You moan imagining him sneaking into your room and doing that, and it makes you even hornier. “Fuck, James! I would have let you... would have asked you to make me come in the morning, too.”
You don’t care if you are depraved too. You are in this together. You wanted each other for so long, and now you’re finally getting it.
“Yeah?” He starts to lower his face more after he leaves a few kisses on the valley between your breasts. “What else?”
When you feel him close to your navel, you laugh.
“I’m ticklish, please.”
He melts. Of course he melts and spreads your legs as far as you can go.
“Gonna finally get my mouth on you. I need you to come all over my face...” Based on his tone, it’s like he can’t believe it finally happening.
“Yes, sir.” You tease. “Gonna get you drenched if you want.”
Something snaps inside him, you realize quickly, as he cups your face.
“I am your sir now, princess?”
“Always been,” you gasp. “You’re in your daddification era after all.”
“Shouldn’t that make me your daddy then?”
You freeze a little, unsure what to say because you’d lie if you said you didn’t think about him like that. He’s such a daddy that it hurts. And it’s like he sensed it.
“Fuck, you’re both, okay? You’re both. Please, James. Need your mouth or fingers... anything.”
“Or?” Bucky puffs. “You’re getting both, love.”
You hear laughter coming from downstairs, and you smirk. If only they knew who you actually are with...
Bucky places your legs on his shoulders and back, and you let yourself stay still, waiting for his first move.
His fingers open your lips first, making sure to hold you open before he leans in and gets his tongue at your entrance.
“Shit, Buck!”
He intentionally breathes out all over you. “That’s not how you call me, princess.”
“What do you want then?” You snap, desperately. You need to be eaten out, not teased. “Daddy? Sir? Old man? James? Tease?”
“That tone,” he says, amused by your suffering. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”
“Well, make me come first!”
“Always.”
He doesn’t tease you much after this, getting his tongue inside you for a while as you pull his hair, and then he switches it with his index finger as he decides to lick your clit.
“Y-you can suck on it. I like it.”
He immediately takes your suggestion and, at the same time you feel him adding another finger inside you, he sucks on your clit as if he’s nursing.
You lose control of your hips, moving them like crazy while he fucks you like this.
His free hand travels to your breast, and you groan. “I’m so close, James. Sooo close. Fuck,” you moan again when he pinches your nipple. “Add another finger, please. Another-”
He does it before you can ask again, and it doesn’t take more than a few seconds for you to come all over his face, surprising yourself and, probably him. It feels like you’re drowning in pleasure, it’s insane. 
Even after you finish, he keeps licking just as fast, and you have to pull his hair harshly so he can stop.
“It’s enough, thank you, baby.”
He smiles, getting up to kiss you without hesitation. “I’m your baby now?”
“Of course you are. My big old baby.”
He laughs. “So old.”
“Yeah, my old man, who needs to take off his clothes.”
Bucky nods, standing up.
“Do you have a condom?”
“Ihm.” You crawl to the edge of the bed so you can help him take off his shorts quicker. It’s hard not to stare at his cock. He’s quite thick, and the head is covered in precum.
“What’s that face?” He laughs, fishing. You know he fishes too, but what can you say?
“You’re a big man.”
He laughs even harder. “Do you mean all of me or a certain part?”
“Fuck you!” You take his hand, forcing him to lean toward you. You won’t stroke his ego even more.
“Let me grab a condom first.”
You nod, eagerly waiting for him to get inside you as you watch him his open his nightstand. You brush off the instinct to cover yourself and spread your legs.
“How many times did you think about it?”
“About you in my bed? Too many times. I was gonna screw it over, you know?” He snorts. “The morning after my birthday. I wanted to come and confess I like and want you to myself, but you stayed away from me.”
You watch him open the package and roll the condom on as you answer. “I think your sister sensed it.”
Bucky scrunches his nose. “Not the greatest subject while I am about to fuck you, but yeah, she knew. She saw right through me, and as we left she told me to go for it and do something scandalous for once.”
“Really?” You’re shocked. Why would she encourage him to do that while you were still with her other brother? “She told me not to play with both of your hearts before we left.”
Bucky shakes his head while getting on his knees between your legs. “You can play with my heart all you want, doll. It’s all yours”
“I need something else of yours right now. Your cock, sir.” You tease him, knowing the effect your words will have on him. You enjoy this so much… having this power over him. “How about that?”
“Ihm.” Bucky kisses your lips briefly. “When you tell me to stop, I’ll stop, okay?”
You nod eagerly, wanting to push him. “What if I don’t want you to stop, what should I tell you then?”
“Just beg for my cock. You seem to like that.”
“You would love that, wouldn’t you? If you want me to beg, at least give me a reason to.”
And he gives you a reason to as he pushes inside you little by little. It’s a strange feeling... getting filled like this with no lube, but it doesn’t hurt, it’s just a bit uncomfortable at first.
“You okay?”
“Ihm, just full.” You smile.
“You’re so tight, and wet, and perfect, you know? I feel like... shit, it feels surreal.”
You look down, and you almost moan from the sight. His cock is more than halfway inside you.
“You feel amazing too.”
He kisses you as he starts to thrust, and you don’t remember the last time you felt like this. Maybe it’s also the build up and the time that has passed since you last had sex, but you can’t think straight. With every push, it gets harder and harder to focus or to simply keep your eyes open.
“Come on, princess, talk to me!”
He leaves kisses all over your collarbone and wherever he manages between his thrusts as he waits for you to speak. But what can you say? How can you speak?
“Y-you feel so good inside me, daddy. So good.” It’s like your mind is blank.
“Jesus!” His eyes meet yours. “Say that again, come on, baby.”
“What? That you feel good or...?”
“You know what, don’t be bratty now. I know you’re close.”
“I want it a little harder, daddy.” You smirk when you see him trembling a little, and before you can say anything else, he’s starting to thrust again, but harder just like you want.
“You’re mine, aren’t you? Worrying about me... taking me so well,” he moans, and you quickly grab the sheets when you feel one of his hands getting to your clit without warning. “Gonna come for me? Gonna come while everyone is downstairs wondering what takes you so long? Gonna come for your daddy?”
You do, of course you do, silently, yet strongly. It feels like heaven, and you don’t want it to ever stop. You can taste the pleasure at this point.
“Look at you,” he moans, still thrusting. “So beautiful as you come for me. Tell me you want me to come for you, too. Tell me-”
You interrupt him immediately. “Please, James, let it go, want you to feel good.” You kiss his neck over and over again. “Want to feel your come inside me.”
You both know that’s impossible, but it still gets him over the edge, and he comes, whispering your name like a prayer.
“Was it good?” You ask amused when his head falls dramatically on top of your breasts, his beard tickling you a little.
“I’m a changed man.”
He manages to make you laugh. “Liar!”
“Don’t call an old man liar, sweetheart.”
“What happened to love or baby?” You lazily run a hand through his hair as you wait for his answer.
“You’re my love and my baby, too..”
“How are you single again?”
“I’m not. You took me.” He grins devilishly before leaving a kiss on the valley between your breasts. Again and again.
“Ah, yes, I do.” You sigh, suddenly back to earth once the after-orgasm effect fades away. “We need to talk about it.”
“I know, and we will in the morning. Tonight, your job is to relax in the bath I’ll prepare for you while I go downstairs and make the punk end the party. Then we’ll sleep, okay?”
“Ihm,” you whisper absently. suddenly really tired as he slides out of you with a kiss.
“Gonna throw this away and come back, okay? Try not to sleep.” You don’t have to look at him to know he’s talking about the condom.
“Yes, sir.”
Bucky’s laugh warms your heart.
*
You wake up all sweaty, with Bucky’s arms around your waist and his beard on your neck giving you extra warmth. If you attempted to move him, he’s too heavy; therefore, you’d have to wake him up.
You sigh. “Bucky?”
“Hmm?”
“Can you move? I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Say the magic word,” he whispers with the raspiest voice ever.
“Now. Or is it daddy?”
He laughs. “Gimmie a kiss then.”
“Let me brush my teeth first.”
“Nonsense!” He leans in to kiss your without  warning, tilting your head with his right hand.
You don’t deepen the kiss, though, using this as an opportunity to sneak out of the bed.
“Hey, come here!  I don’t care about your-”
“I stink. You might not care, but I do. Gonna be right back, okay?”
You’re not fast enough, though, since you hit him with the bathroom door when you open it. “Bucky!” You jump, touching your chest.
“Took too long.”
“Such a baby.” You snort, wrapping your arms around his neck, and get on your tip toes so you can properly kiss him this time.
“Now this is a good morning.”
You nod. “Yep. Good morning.”
“Good morning, little liar.”
You frown instantly, your heart starting to race. Shit!
“I am really sorry, Bucky. I really didn’t mean to...” You try to explain, but you sound like a broken record.
“I don’t mean that, love. I am talking about what your principles.”
You feel like your whole body is on fire. This can’t be real...
“Was all a game?” You slam your hands onto his chest. “Is this a game for you?”
“What? I mean your not sleeping or having sex policy, woman. Calm down! What games? I came after you cause you were taking too long, and you think this can be a game?”
“I don’t know... I just panicked.” You take a deep breath, trying to calm down. “It sounded like you were gonna say it was all a game because I lied to you.”
Bucky shakes his head before wrapping his arms around you waist and pulling you into a tight hug.
“I would never do that. I am not a kid and I know what I want. I know why you accepted this, and you didn’t lie to me, you were hiding the truth from a stranger. They are the ones who should have said something.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, baby. I just wanted to make sure you know that.”
You kiss his upper arm in return, and he smiles.
“So tell me... what happened to not sleeping in the same room? Not having sex...”
“Why are you teasing me?”
“It’s my job as your man to do that.”
You let go of him and smile. “My man… I’m not intending to return you.”
“Return me?” He giggles, suddenly amused. “Now that we’re here, I have a question.”
“What?”
“How jealous you were of Cherry on a scale from 1 to 10?”
You gasp. “Are you going to ask everything this morning or what?”
“Do you want me to do it at lunch?” He teases you. “You don’t have to be jealous. We aren’t even close friends anymore, so...”
“I don’t care about Cherry! She’s nice...”
He brings your hands to his lips and slowly leaves a kiss on each finger.
“Then why was my mocktail left there? It was crying for you to drink it.”
You snap, taking him aback as you grab him by the chin. “You’re mine, do you understand? No Cherry, no Berry, no Watermelon!”
He laughs as much as he can since you’re holding his chin, but then something glows in his eyes. “What about Strawberry?”
“No. One. No fruit, no vegetable, no one.”
“Done,” he answers immediately. “But same goes for you. No William, Will, Bill and so on.”
“He’s not my type, obviously.” You touch his bottom lip with your index finger. “I like them old, savage, and huge like trees.”
Bucky immediately bites the tip of your finger before licking it. “We need to tell everyone. How do we do it?”
You freeze, dropping your hand.
What will you do? If this blows up, and you know it will, where will you go? Where will you work? Your mom would try to fight for you, but you know your dad would immediately cut you off and make sure you’ll regret it. He’d want you to beg for forgiveness, so he will make sure no one hires you.
Bucky must have sensed your panic and immediately grabs your face.
“Hey, I can see you making a hundred of scenarios in your head, talk to me.”
“In the bathroom?” You ask, trying to lighten up the mood for some reason.
“Don’t you want them to know?” He asks confused.
“Of course I do, don’t get me wrong. It’s just...”
“Complicated?” He completes the sentence for you.
“A little.”
“We have time, I’m all ears.”
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@charmedbysarge @identity2212 @vicmc624  @cjand10  @mayusenpai666  @abitofblues @doveromanoff @buckyb-stan
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onceuponastory · 1 month
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twelve minutes - bucky barnes x reader
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But for now we stay so far 'Til our lonely limbs collide I can't keep you in these arms So I'll keep you in my mind - you and i by PVRIS
Plot: Almost a year after their breakup, Y/N sees Bucky Barnes again. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (past) Warnings: Mentions of a breakup and heartbreak, angst without a happy ending. Bucky being a shitty boyfriend. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: So You and I by PVRIS, one of my favourite songs ever, turned 8 on Friday, and I had to write another fic for it to celebrate (please ignore I'm a few days late) so here we are!
Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.
One night, Y/N stands outside the Avengers tower in the cold New York air. A chilly wind blows, and she shivers. She can still hear the party inside, the muffled music and laughter. Maybe she should just go inside? Isn't that better than being out here, alone and in the cold? 
But just as she’s about to turn back, she shakes her head. She didn’t even want to come tonight. Although the Avengers are still her friends, a party attended by her ex, Bucky Barnes, was not the ideal way to spend her night. But Natasha whined and begged for her to come, promising her she’d have a good time and it wouldn’t be that awkward. Unfortunately, it was just as awkward as Y/N expected. In fact, it was worse.
Sure, people still spoke to her, but she could tell they all had one question on their lips, one she was not willing to answer: "So, when are you and Bucky getting back together?"
And so, Y/N left. She types on her phone, ordering an Uber to take her home. Sighing, she wraps her jacket around herself as another chilly wind blows. Soon, she’ll be home and can eat her sorrows in ice cream. 
“Leaving so soon?” A familiar voice asks. One that Y/N was hoping not to hear tonight. 
“Hey Bucky.” He looks different from the last time she saw him, almost a year ago, now. Just over ten months, in fact. Not that she’s counting or anything. He’s bulkier, no doubt an effect of Steve’s constant early morning runs. Each time he left their bed, he promised to come back, kissing her cheek softly. Even now, her skin tingles just thinking about it. Bucky smiles, brushing some of his longer hair out of his face. 
He looks good. 
He looks great, actually. She can’t deny it - he still looks as attractive ever. Deep down, something registers in her gut. It’s a strong, passionate longing feeling, the same one she used to have whenever she thought of Bucky. One that she thought disappeared a long time ago. But seeing him now is reigniting that feeling. Desperately, she tries to bury it.
“Good to see you again.” He murmurs, a sign that he’s feeling just as awkward as she is. After all, how often do you run into your ex at a party you didn’t even want to go to? “Nat never said you were coming.” He looks around, a brow raised. “Where’s that boyfriend of yours? She said he’s a lawyer.” Of course she fucking did. She’s going to kill her next time she sees her. “Can’t imagine he’d pass up a moment to spend time with you.”
“We um. We broke up. Well, he dumped me for his secretary, actually. So… yeah.” She’s immediately embarrassed, not meaning to spill her heartbreak to anyone, let alone Bucky fucking Barnes, her ex of all people. Honestly, part of her reasoning for coming tonight and hopefully dragging Harry along with her was to make Bucky jealous, show him that their breakup wasn’t affecting her that badly. 
And look how well that turned out. 
But her wounds are still raw. Perhaps, after suppressing her feelings for so long, she simply needed to release and express her frustration and pain to someone. And Bucky just happens to be the one she’s letting it out to, the welcome respite she’s needed for so long. That's how things used to be between them. Whenever something was wrong, Y/N and Bucky relied on each other for comfort. They would spend hours in each other’s arms, talking about their problems until they felt better. Y/N still aches for that comforting grasp, even now.
But now, things are different. Including her and Bucky.
Especially her and Bucky.
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” He sighs. “I’ve fucked up, haven’t I?” 
“It’s okay.” She lies, but knows that if she dwells on it too long, she’ll start sobbing in front of him. Her chest tightens in an all too familiar way. This is what people like Bucky Barnes do. They come into your life and leave a mark. Once they’re gone, you work so hard to heal yourself and make a new life, and then they come back in and destroy everything all over again. And she won’t put herself through that again.
“Looking back on it now, we just weren’t a good fit. Or at least, he didn’t like me as much as I liked him.” The heat on her cheeks deepens, as if she’s embarrassed to admit falling in love with and getting her heart broken by someone like her ex. To admit that she subjected herself to so much pain and heartbreak yet again. But thankfully, Bucky doesn’t mention it. 
“Honestly, it’s his loss. You deserve better.”
“Thanks.” And again, silence envelops them. She wonders if he’ll start talking about their breakup, or continue ignoring the enormous elephant in the room. And honestly…. she doesn’t know which she’d rather have. To lay everything out in the open, or just ignore it all again, pretending everything is fine. When her eyes drift back to him, he’s not looking at her anymore, and despite how angry she was at Bucky for what happened, and how much she likes to kid herself that she doesn’t care about Bucky anymore, it still stings.
Deep down, she wants him to want her, like she wants him. To still want her, even now.
“Can we talk?” He asks suddenly. She already hates the idea of being forced to spend time with another ex so soon after losing another relationship, but there’s not much else she can do. And honestly…. She misses Bucky a lot.
“Sure. You have….” she peers down at her phone screen, the light illuminating the space. “Twelve minutes.” Bucky raises a brow.
“Twelve? That’s very… specific.” He chuckles awkwardly. Y/N doesn’t laugh. 
“It’s how long until my Uber arrives.” 
“Oh.” There’s disappointment lacing his tone, which Y/N picks up on. She stares at him, waiting for his response. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what happened between us.” 
“Okay. Me too.” She nods. Bucky raises a brow. 
“...That’s it? Y-You’re not going to say anything?”
“What can I say? You said that you’re sorry for how it ended, and so am I.” She shrugs. “There’s no point in beating ourselves up, Bucky. We just never worked out. You were always too busy, and after a while I just stopped waiting for you. The fights got too much, and we just stopped loving one another.” Honestly, she never stopped loving him. But it’s better to lie and tell him that the feeling is mutual than waste all her tears on someone who actually stopped loving her. She stopped being important to him and was no longer the key priority in his life. Missions were his priority, followed by dinners, drinks, and world trips with teammates - things she stopped being invited to. As an Avenger, he can't refuse to save the world, but she thought she mattered to him. Realising she didn't hurt her deeply.
So one day, she decided enough was enough, and… it was over. And she’s missed him terribly since then.
“You really think I stopped loving you?” Bucky frowns. There’s a strange mix of guilt and accusation in his tone. Y/N nods. “Well, I didn’t. I never stopped.”
Y/N gasps, and his revelation makes her heart pound. What if this is a good sign? A chance for them to make things right? “I thought you did. I thought you stopped caring.” For a moment, she wonders how he’ll react, if he’ll take her into his arms again, and whisper sweet nothings. Maybe they’ll finally make things right.
Instead, he turns defensive. “I didn’t. And it’s not all my fault, you know. I did try to make it home to you, but you didn’t understand how busy I was sometimes.” He snaps, sending a fresh strike of pain through her already damaged heart and destroying all hope she ever had of them rekindling their relationship.. 
“You had a funny way of showing it.” She retorts, rolling her eyes. Anger flows through her veins, overtaking her last shred of guilt. Why is it her who has to fix things first? To be the villain, the one who has to admit that they’re in the wrong? Angry and bitter tears sting at her eyes. “But yeah, whatever. It’s my fault our relationship fell apart.”
Immediately, Bucky regrets his words. “Look, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.” He hates that this is what they’ve come to now, unable to speak to one another without anger, bitterness and hurt feelings. But maybe this is a chance to make things right? A whole twelve…well, probably ten minutes, now. “And I’m sorry if it seemed I wasn’t trying hard enough. I loved you a lot.” He sighs. “I still do.”
“I never stopped either.” She admits, and Bucky’s eyes widen.
“Really?” He gasps. “W-Well, do you wanna get a drink somewhere? Or some dinner?”
“Wait.” She raises a hand, cutting him off. She sighs. “Not tonight.”
“Tomorrow? I’ll wait. We can go whenever you want.” He urges. But Y/N just can’t ignore the feeling deep inside her, of guilt and apprehension. What if she lets him back in and it happens all over again? If she gives him all of her heart and gets it back broken, yet again? She’s already been through two heartbreaks in this lifetime, and she can’t go through that pain again.
Especially not one caused by Bucky. 
“I’m sorry. I can’t.” She whispers, biting her bottom lip. Bucky frowns, confused.
“What do you mean? W-Why not?”
“Because I can’t do this again.” She whimpers, her voice cracking. “Our break up destroyed me, and I’ve just been through another one. Another break up between us would actually finish me off.” She shakes her head. “Maybe one day we can talk…but not now.”
Bucky opens his mouth, ready to speak. But he nods. “I understand.” He sighs. He keeps his gaze on her, his blue eyes imploring and hopeful. Suddenly, the sound of an engine approaches. Y/N sighs. “Guess my twelve minutes are up.” Bucky chuckles nervously.
“Goodnight Bucky.” She says, getting into the car and closing the door. He watches her go, looking crestfallen. She looks out of the window, locking eyes with him.
“You okay?” The driver asks. “Need a minute?” Y/N’s heart aches, and her chest aches. 
“No.” she murmurs. “You can keep driving.” And then they pull away, and Bucky fades into the distance.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
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imwall-e · 2 days
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In Every Universe
Pairing : Bucky x Female Reader
Summary : Bucky wants to know if he deserves you...
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All Bucky wanted was to see his mother again. He hadn't been able to say goodbye. Didn't get to tell her he was still alive. Hydra had stolen his life. His family. He wanted to see her smile again, talk to her, tell her he was okay now. And above all, to tell her about you.
Sometimes, often, he thought you deserved better than him. Better than a broken, tortured man. And on the other hand, he wanted you all to himself. He wanted to believe he had a right to happiness. The right to a second chance. And to believe it, he needed to hear it from his mother. This woman who had loved him so much. The woman who would have given up everything for him.
So he'd gone to see Doctor Strange, who'd agreed to help him, though with the caveat that he'd only be allowed a short time with his mother. But that was all Bucky needed. He was happy, but also nervous. Very nervous. And by pacing and asking too many questions, something had gone wrong. It wasn't his mother who had appeared, but Bucky . Several versions. From, according to Strange, different universes.
They were all somewhat surprised to be here. However, Bucky could see the happiness emanating from some of them. Others, with metal arms like his, were troubled in a way similar to his own. Finally, he kept his distance from some who seemed strange, even dangerous.
Hoever it was one in particular that caught his attention. An older version of himself. The only one of advanced age. He claimed to be Secretary of State of the United States. The wedding ring on his finger indicated that he was married. So he asked him questions. And old Barnes told him his life story. That he'd been saved. That he had been able to return home and marry the woman of his life. And that they'd started a big family.
The Secretary of State then pulled out a photo he always kept in his wallet. It was an old photo from when he was younger, back from the war: him and you. Or at least another version of you. This woman had the same name as you. For Bucky, this couldn't be a mere coincidence.
Bucky needed to verify the theory that emerged in his head. He showed a photo of you to each of his variants. And each of them recognized you. In every universe where he existed, you were there too. With him.
And that was enough to prove to him that he had a right to be happy, to keep fighting for it. For you. For both of you.
At last, each of them began to disappear. Time was up. The last to go was old Barnes, the Secretary of State. The latter greeted him with a wave and a smile.
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prettyinpink350 · 8 months
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Trailer trash
Dark Bucky x innocent reader. Dad Bucky x mom reader. Bucky is mean! 18+ don’t let me catch some kids in here reading this! I mean it!
Smut, mentions of previous hitting but nothing hard enough to leave marks. Yelling. cursing. Mentions of rough sex. Baby crying. Unprotected sex. Reader kinda has Stockholm syndrome. Bucky calls reader mommy like twice. Daddy kink
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“I wanna get outta here!” She yelled after him.
“I know! I know kitten! Trust me I’ve heard ya bitch and moan about it for four years!” Bucky yelled back at her.
Y/n in a fit walked away from him. Going down the small narrow hall of their trailer, Bucky’s anger getting the best of him like it always did. He walked fast to catch up to her, then yanking her back by her hair.
“Owwww! Get off me James! Now!” She cried out
“Fuck no! You think I’m gonna let the love of my life and the mother of my child fuckin leave me! Your insane! I ain’t lettin ya get a god damn mile out of this town! Your mine.” Bucky said in her face, his nose touching hers. Tears streaming her face as little James came paddling through the hallway with his bottle in hand. The two year old crying from the yelling, him being able to sense the stress off his mommy.
“Let me go James” y/n said slowly to her husband. He let go of her hair, only taking a step back. His jaw tightened and eyes glared at her.
Little James came as fast as his little legs would carry him to his mother. Y/n bending down to pick him she began to soothe him with her voice.
“I’m here baby boy, it’s okay. I love you”
“Y/n if you leave me, I’ll hunt you down and you don’t want to know the rest” Bucky said, the two of them looking right in each other’s eyes.
“I didn’t say I was leavin ya, alls I said was I wanted a better life! With money and a better safer home and environment for our family” she said crying, little James now asleep in her arms his head resting on her shoulder.
Bucky’s eyes softened at the view of her and his son. He stepped closer, bringing them in his arms. He held her as she cried into him.
“I’m so sorry baby girl, I didn’t mean to hurt ya. I was just scared and let my emotions get the best of me again” Bucky did this quite often, he’d pull her, yank her, slap her, spank her, shove her on the bed and give her rough sex when he would get to angry. He never hit her hard enough to leave any marks or bruises though.
Y/n and Bucky met when she was 18 and he was 21. She was the farmer’s daughter young innocent and beautiful. They met at one of Bucky’s gangs parties, Wanda y/n’s best friend had made her come. It was her first ever party and when she walked in, wearing her little white sundress and sneakers and big doe eyes Bucky almost fell to his knees.
The small town didn’t see much of her because her dad and mother were protective of her. Bucky could see why because she was a play boy model with curves for days and a virgin. He flirted with her and smooth talked her all night.
After that they fell in love and they got married after being together for only six months. they moved into together in Bucky’s trailer. Him promising that they’d move away to the city and have money but then she got pregnant with little James and suddenly their savings for moving were used for a baby.
he was all she ever knew in the big world except her parents.
“Love you y/n Barnes, I mean that. I will die if I don’t have you or my son in my life” he said into her hair.
“I love you James, I just want out of here” she said
“I know, we’ll get there one day” he said in return “come on let’s go put the little slobber monster in his crib”
She giggles through her tears at what her husband said about her son because it was true he slobbered everywhere. They laid him down, watching for moment as he slept. He was perfect.
“Let’s go sexy mama, I wanna see my pussy” he whispered in his girls ear and slapped her bum. She giggled again now the sadness and hurt fading away because she knew Bucky would never hurt her on purpose he had problems and he didn’t mean to get rough it was an accident, that’s what he said all the other times. He would beg for forgiveness and little y/n’s heart couldn’t take it, she loved him and she couldn’t stand to see him hurt. So she took him back every time because to her it was normal. They both walked into their room
“Go get that lingerie I got you” he told her as he sat at the end of the bed naked. Cock in hand stroking in slow movements.
Y/n came out of their bathroom in a pink set of lace panties and bra, that were crotch less. Her soft pink bare pussy lips wet, her heavy tits looked so soft like pillows. Her nipples hard.
“Get your sweet ass over here” Bucky said his eyes filled with lust and love. She walked over to him standing between his legs.
He pulled her down on top of him, y/n now straddling him. He lined his hard 10 inch thick shaft with an angry pink tip leaking pre cum up to her tight hole. Pushing in, both moaned.
“God damn I don’t know how you’re so tight after taking me so many times and havin my baby” he said through a clenched mouth trying not be too rough with her.
“I love you James” she moaned when he stated to bounce her up and down in his cock.
“Love you too baby doll” Bucky flipped her over on her back, him now on top of her. His thrusts hard, he pulled down her bra sucking on her hard nipples.
“JAMMMMMESSS!” She moan loudly
“Shhhh honey, we can’t wake up the baby now” he said while he gave her a particular hard thrust as a warning.
“You’re such a good mommy baby girl. Feeding my boy with these tits and you’d save the the rest for me remember? I miss that” Bucky lifted her right leg up higher up to get deeper in her pussy. Y/n was so close to cumming tears were leaking from her eyes
“I’m gonna cum daddy!” She said breathy
“I’m close too, come on mama come with me” Bucky gave four more hard thrusts before they both were cumming
“Fuck yeah! I’m gonna get you pregnant again mommy. I’m gonna drink your milk and your gonna look so good pregnant with my babies again.” Bucky said well cumming making y/n moan at his words
“I want your babies Jamie! All your babies!” She cried out before at kissing him.
Bucky rolled over, both of them on their sides now. His cock still in her pussy, the two snuggled together.
“Love ya sexy mommy, you aint ever fuckin leavin me ya hear”
“I know daddy, I can’t live without you either. I love you too” she kissed his shoulder and then drifted off to sleep
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grugruel · 3 months
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Save a Horse
Pairings: cowboy!bucky x f!reader
NSFW/MDNI
Masterlist
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Summary: Its girls night out, but when you see a handsome cowboy, you have no other option than to take him for a ride.
Word count: 3.3k
Warnings: fluff, Pet names (girl, ma'am, doll, sugar (once), darling), slight praise, body worship, cowgirl, pinv sex, southern Bucky, cockwarming, creampie, sundress kink.
AN: I lied, I was so excited to write cowboy!bucky so I posted it first.
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The sounds of heels hitting pavement surrounded me as I held the door to the bar open, letting my girls pass me. We were out for our typical ladies night.
We sound like a gaggle of hens as we enter, giggling and gossiping as were already a bit drunk from dinner. The sound of music and crowded voices fill the gloomy, yet cozy lit bar.
Our group steps up to the counter, placing our orders when one of the girls nudges me, 'Honey, be descreet ok? That stud over there.' She says quietly, nodding her head to the right of us, 'Hes totally checking you out.'
I furrow my brows, doubting her words and all girls turn their heads at the same time, checking out this supposed stud.
And boy, was she right.
Sat by his lonesome, brooding and hunched over his drink, his gaze was observing me from under his hat. When he notices us all staring he chuckles and smirks, nodding to the empty seat next to him. The girls whisper to me in various terms of encouragement and surprise like 'Holy shit!' And 'Go get him, girl.'
I shake my head and laugh, mouthing "Later" to him. 'Lets just get a table.' I tell the girls with a bright smile.
The night goes on, but unable to keep my eyes to myself. They drift toward the handsome cowboy by the bar and more often than not, I find him already looking.
'Girl, if you dont want him, we'll take him.' They say, all agreeing with the statement.
I look at them with round eyes 'Oh my god, fine.' I snicker.
'Hurry!' They shout as I stand up.
'Im going, im going!' I assure them, and make my way to the bar. I look behind me, to find the girls giving me thumbs up and waving their hands in shooing motions.
I hear a low whistle coming from the pool table nearby, and turn to see a man looking at me up and down. Staring at my bare legs and slightly seathrough dress, it was the middle of summer after all.
I wink at him in good spirits as I turn back and saunter toward the bar, sidling up to the handsome cowboy. He observes his whiskey glas and says 'I was startin' to think you'd never come.' A charming smile on his lips.
I sat down, 'You doubtin' your abilities?'
He shook his head and met my eyes, 'No, ma'am. I just dont like being presumtious.'
'Confident, not boastful. I like that.' I told him truthfully.
'I was hopin' so.' He said, that charming smile making its way back to his lips, 'You seem to be a popular girl.' Eyeing the man who whistled at you.
I wave the bartender down, 'That bother you?' I ask, and give the bartender my order.
The cowboys eyes drift over my body, admiring what he sees. Nothing the way my leg is poking out of the slit in my sundress. 'No ma'am.' He jerks his head, then says under his breath, 'I can see why.' And smiles to himself.
'What was that?' I asked, the sound of a crowded bar dulling my hearing.
He points at the bartender, 'Told him to put it on my tab.' He lazily excuses. The bartenders nods hesitantly, looking at me for confirmation.
I hummed in agreeing, a smile tugging on my lips, 'I can pay for myself y'know.'
'I never doubted.' He said with a genuine smile, 'Please, let me be a gentleman miss.'
I put my hads up, 'Well, alright.'
He tipped his hat to me in gratitude. I observed his features as he did the same, 'You never told me your name.' I tilted my head to the side, looking deeply into his eyes as if I could tell the name from the hue of blue alone.
'My real names James, but they call me Buck out here.' a gleam of mischief appearing in his eyes. Making me eager to know why, I already had a few guesses. 'And yours, miss. . .?'
I shook my head, looking at him through my lashes in challenge 'Now, that. . . You'll have to earn.'
He nodded and pursed his lips, my answer seemed to humour him, 'Thats a challenge im willin' to accept.' He told me.
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping our drinks. The tension hung in the air around us, and so did the origin of his name, acuriosity eventually got the better of me.
'So, why do they call you Buck anyway. If I may ask that is.'
He laid one arm on the bar, holding his glass and leaning against it for support 'You may guess, I'll tell you if its right. Scouts honor..' He answered, his voice cheeky.
I rolled my eyes, but a smile threatened my lips, 'S'pouse thats fair.' I studied him, his clothes were well worn, nicely fitted but roughed up and dirty. 'Farmer maybe-' I began and he was about to cut in, to answer for me, but I stopped him, 'Hold on, thats not my final guess.'
I reached for his hands, opening them to look at their state. Big and calloused, 'Hard worker, it seems. Your hands are at the very least.' I pointed out and met his eyes, looking at him through my lashes.
'Thats a promise darlin'.' He said earnestly, but with a hint mischief in his tone. And supposedly nothing ulterior behind his words. I took his chin between my fingers, moving his head so I could get a good look at his face. A few scrapes, same with his hat.
'Can I look at your hat?' I asked, and he obliged, taking it off of him.
He leaned forward, his eyes ruefull 'You can try it on if you want.' He said in a low voice, ment for my ears only.
'Is that right?' I teased, pleased expression on on face.
'I think it'd suit you.' He told me, shrugging.
'Could you roll your sleeves up for me?' I asked him, ignoring the latter. Nothing ulteiror behind my words either, supposedly.
But man, as he rolled them up and I saw those strong veiny arms? Something definitley set aflame inside me. But I also noticed a big bruise under his forearm, leading up to his elbow, as if he'd fallen on it.
'It wouldnt be my first time wearin' a cowboys hat, boy. Not my first rodeo either.' I said. A smile spreading across his face as he nodded, approvingly. 'Speaking of, you do rodeo dont you?'
'Yes, ma'am.' He said, impressed by my deduction.
'You strong in the saddle, that why they call you Buck?'
'I stay on, most of the time.' He admitted.
I hummed, 'Theres something more to it though, isnt there?' I asked, and he nodded. 'You got a reputiation for bucking cowgirls out of the saddle?' I joked.
He laughs, but doesnt deny it.
The bartender cuts in, 'Indeed, he does.' And winks at me, I return a flattered smile. He leans toward me, resning his forearms on the counter 'Next drink 's on the house, little lady.' He whispered, a flirtatious smile on his lips.
'Why, thank you.' I said politley, ignoring the bad flirting.
The cowboy looked between the two of you, chuckled, then settled his gaze on the bartender.
'Careful there Chief, I already had my eyes on this one.' He said and nodded his head in my direction.
The bartender, whos aparent name is Chief, smiled at Buck, 'Yeah well, you cant have em' all.' Chief said in a gruff voice and gave me a quick look, smiling confidently. When he looked back, the cowboy had raised his eyebrows in question, wordlessly comunicating something along the lines of "You sure you wanna do this?"
The bartender licked his lips, thoughts of regret circling his head.
'Boys, boys. . .' I tried, a bad attempt at calming them.
The bartender closed the distance between him and Buck in long pompous strides, leaning over the bar slowly, settled his head next to him in a calm and collected motion, then kept his voice low but hasty 'C'mon Buck, you can get any girl you want. Let me have this one, please.' He begged, his voice betraying him as its high-pitched nature shone through.
His bad attempt at a whisper made me giggle, and earned me a smirk from Buck.
'I believe that fine lady over there can hear just fine, bud.' He whispered back, making the bartender look at me in horror. Quickly rebuilding the facade of confidence over his face and the flirtatious smile to go with it. However, nervousity was making it crack. 'Besides.' Buck continued, 'Nothing says she'll chose either of us.'
I looked between the men, it was an obvious choice. 'Reputation or not, I'll accept that challenge.'
He met my eyes with a grin, grabbing the top of his hat and placed it on my head. He pulled my hair back from my face and laid it behind my shoulder so he could see my face better. I could hear chearing from our left, we both looked and saw the girls whooping and clapping.
The bartender backed off in defeat, but a smile clad his face.
'So you were a scout?' I teased, a humored expression on my face.
'Yes, ma'am.' He nodded, forgetting he didnt have his hat to tip. So I did it for him.
I laid my hand on the nape of his neck, burrying my hand in his hair, 'So, how about it cowboy. Wanna take me for a ride?'
He smiled and bit his lip, 'I thought you'd never ask.'
He took my hand and led me to his car in a hurry, we ran through the dim, rainy night and next thing I know im sitting on top of him in the backseat of his truck.
I kiss him fiercly, eager to taste him. Hes trying to slow me down, but im aching for more him. 'Girl.' He says, trying to grab my attention as I kiss his jaw. And when I dont stop, he cups my face and pushes me backward so that he can get a look at me, 'Slow down.' He whispers, stroking a strand of hair behind my ear as he studies my face. 'Theres no hurry. I want all of ya', not a second.' He says and smiles.
I wasnt used to this, I had one-night stands before for sure. But they we're always in a hurry, using me for my body and nothing else. Bucks comment made me blush, suddenly shy. I had to turn my face the other way as I realised that he was actually paying attention to me, and not just chasing his own pleasures. 'Sorry.' I said under my breath.
'No need to apologize girl.' He assured, hand reaching for my chin. Gently taking it between his fingers and turning my head to face him.
'Youre a real gentleman, arent you?' My smile was faint, as I thought about previous encounters. Memories making me appreciate his soft touch.
'I try.' He grins, not in an egotistical way, but rather proudly. 'Thats how I was raised.' He nodded, stroking a line over my lips with his thumb, 'Just, beautiful. . .' He mumbles, as his eyes follow his thumb, observing the movement of my lips.
'They did one hell of a job.' I say, kissing his cheek.
'They'd appreciate that, I was one hell of a gangster growing up.' He chuckled as his hands fell to my shoulders, and continued sliding down my arms, taking both straps of my dress with him.
'A gangster with manners, who treat women right.' I pointed out, a sigh leaving me as his touch aling with the cool air prickled my skin.
'Well.' He paused, his eyes flickering over my exposed skin as he squeezed his way down my arm in massaging motions. 'I would be nothing without the women in my life.' He says, kissing my shoulder 'Men would be nothing without women, to put it simply.'
His words caused me to bite my lip, a pulse settling deep in my uterus. I lean into him, unbuttoning his shirt and slide my hands underneath. Feeling his warm skin and strong muscles under my fingertips. His shirt catches on my wrists and I slide it off of his shoulders, then drape my arms around him and nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. 'Just when I thought you couldnt turn me on more.' I whisper and kiss him gently.
He grunts appreciatively, 'Oh how you'll take those words back when youre screamin' my name sugar.' He says and kisses his way along my neck. Stirring the butterflies in my stumache.
I kiss along his jaw as his lips reach my cheekbone and eventually we meet lip to lip, ghosting eachother as he leans his forehead against mine. 'You're perfect doll.' He says under his breath, his air alone tasting divine. I blush and close the final distance between us, kissing his lips.
Heat builds within us as our movements grow hungry. His hands roam my body, rubbing my thighs and grabbing my waist. 'Can I look at ya'?' He asks, desperation in his voice. Whimpering almost, but not quite.
'Mhmm.' I hum, and slide the straps down my arms. The dress falls down my torso and bunches at my hips. A sharp intake of breath comes from him as his eyes study me, the curve of my breasts, waist, and everything else. This time, however, I dont turn shy. Because I know that there is nothing but admiration behind his gaze, his eyes basically turning heart-shaped.
'May I?' He looks at me, pleading, begging.
'Yes, please.' I Whimper.
And in the flash of a second, hes on me. Hunching down to take my breasts into his mouth, hungerly sucking. I moan, my breaths heavy as the smacking and slurping sound of his mouth on my flesh symphonises. The windows begin fogging up, clouding the view of the parking lot, hiding our identities but showing our intentions.
His hands slide over my thighs and under my dress, toying with the hem of my panties. Pulling on them and then letting go, making them snap back and sting my skin. I yelp from the sudden sensation, he let's out a muffled laugh against my skin. I bite my lip and burry my hands in his hair to gently pull at my pleasure.
His hands move under my panties, holding my hips in place. I grind down on his lap and immidietly, my core touches his erection. We both freeze, he let's go of my breasts and pull back to look at me. Our eyes meet, gazes flickering between eachothers eyes in silent communication. Eventually, we both agree.
Under the sound of rain hitting the truck, we clash together in a feverish kiss as I unbuckle his belt and zipp down his jeans, he rips my panties apart and pulls his member out. Our movements are hasty and filled with want, needing the other so incredibly bad. I sit up as Buck lines himself up with my entrance, we lock eyes and I slide down onto him, his size filling me perfectly.
We gasp in unisome as the sensation sinks in, smiles chasing our lips.
I start moving and he grips my hips to help my movements. Soon, we have set a needy rhythm, both chasing our highs. He leans back to take in the sight, my breasts bouncing along with the rest of my body. I move my hands to take his hat off, but he shakes his head. 'That hat shows your mine, girl.' He says between the smacking of our skin, luring a smile onto my lips, 'And Id like to keep it that way.' Panting, a grin spreading over his face.
My knees grow weak as pressure builds within me and my movements grow irregular, a whimper manifesting in my throat. Buck circles his arms around me, pulling me close to him and suspends me above his lap as he begins thrusting into me roughly. 'I got ya', such a good girl.' He whispers, doing the all the work for me.
My stumache flitters from his words, 'Fuck.' I moan, 'Just like that, Buck.' My breathing becomes ragged as his strong arms hold me.
I rest my head on his shoulder, his thrusts rocking my body entire body. My gaze drifts to the condensation on the windows, observing how the water droplets bunch and grow bigger as they slide down the glas. My vision blurring, 'Im close, Buck.' I whisper, 'Fuck me.'
He lets out a breathy chuckle, 'Thats what I've been doin'.' I adjust my hips, so that I can grind my clit against his abdomen. I shut my eyes hard as I'm tipping over the edge.
'Let me hear you doll.' He moans.
I moan a string of curses, screaming his name as I topple over the edge. He's thrusts falter and he grunts as his own orgasm arrives right after mine. He comes deep inside of me and let's up on his hold around me. He moves his hand to my back, gently massaging circles while the other stokes hair from my sweaty forhead. I slide down onto his lap, member still inside me as we exchange exhausted breaths.
Suddnely-
A knock sounds on one of the windows, startling me terribly. I yelp, 'Holy shit!' pushing myself closer to Bucks chest in an attempt to cover some of my naked body.
'Sorry!' The man said, 'Didnt mean to scare ya' lady.' hastily turning his face away, profile cloudy through the window. He cleared his throat and continued, 'It's getting rowdy in there Buck, I could really use some backup.' His voice reminding me of the bartender.
'Fuck. . .' Buck sighs, 'I'll be right there chief.' And the bartender leaves. Hastily, but not rushing, he helps me dress, pulling up my dress straps and reaching into the passenger seat for his worker-jacket to wrap around my shoulders.
I smile, 'Thank you.' And pull my arms through the sleeves, 'You really don't have though.'
His eyebrows furrow, 'Of course I do.' He says matter of factly, sounding very confused.
'But you'll need your jacket.' I protest.
He grins, 'So? You'll be returnin' it tomorrow.' He grabs my waist and lifts me off of him, the sound of his member sliding out of me making a sick suctioning sound and he tucks himself away.
I tilt my head in question, my turn to be confused. 'Tomorrow?' I ask, as he opens the truck door and steps out, holding his hand out for me to take and looking at me expectantly. I give him a slanted smile, his kindness making me feel undeserving, I forget his earlier statement. I slide my hand into his and shake my head, almost in disbelief. 'You're too kind.'
'I'm not, and you'll learn that you're worth it.' He says, meeting my eyes and shutting the door behind me. I blush, and look away. But he grabs my face and turns me to face him, he smiles and strokes my cheek with his thumb. 'I was hoping you'd stay over, I'll take my jacket tomorrow when it's warmer.'
Warmth spreads inside me, partly because of Bucks seed still in me. I clamp my walls shut to avoid it leaking out while I'm standing. 'I'd love to cowboy, but I gotta tell my friends, and use the bathroom. . .'
He raises an eyebrow in confusion, then it hits him, 'Oh right.' He chuckles, grabbig his hat to ruffle my hair with it. 'Yes ma'am, of course.' He says and kisses my temple, then laces his fingers together with mine and lead me back towards the bar.
'Hey.' He says, stopping in his tracks 'Have I earned your name yet?' He gently yanks me back, snaking his arms around me.
'I'd say so.' I chuckle, standing on my tiptoes and leaning closer, whispering my name into his ear. Then stand back.
Buck grins, 'Just as beautiful as the rest of ya' he says, and pulls me into a kiss.
2K notes · View notes
lostgirlmuseum · 3 months
Text
The Swan and the Soldier
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^made w/ pinterest
Pairing: tfatws!Bucky x f!dancer!reader
Summary: Bucky is signed up to act in the Nutcracker against his will. But it isn’t all bad. At least not after he meets the cute costume designer. 
Words: 5.6k (oops)
Warnings: Mention of an injury + brief description of pain, poor writing at times, lemme know if I missed anything
A/N: I really hope this isn't complete dog shit
(Dividers by me😎)
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“You want me to what?”
Bucky dropped his sandwich back onto his plate.
“I was gonna do it but I’m too busy to make every rehearsal.”
Bucky had been staying in Louisiana for the past month, finally taking a break from going from fight to fight. Sam encouraged him to stay with him at Sarah’s place, which Bucky did for a while, but after a couple of weeks, he decided to rent his own place. He was still near to Sam, and was at his house nearly every day, seeing as he was only a fifteen-minute drive away. Bucky just felt like less of a burden this way. 
“And I’m not busy?” Bucky countered, staring at Sam from across the kitchen table, where they were taking a quick lunch break before getting back to the boat.
“Well—” 
“Shut up.”
“It would mean so much to AJ. It’s his first dance recital and I think he would be a lot less nervous if someone he knew was on stage with him.”
“I’m not a ballerina, Sam.”
“You don’t have to be!” He quickly uttered, putting down his own sandwich. “They just need a couple of parent volunteers to step in and play the adults at the beginning of the show.”
“I haven’t liked dancing since the 40’s. And I don’t know how I feel about being on stage. Would I have to wear a costume?”
“It’s the Nutcracker.” Sam raised an eyebrow and gave Bucky a judgmental once over. “I don’t think it fits the show to have you dressed like an angsty motorcyclist.”
“Sam, I don’t think I can—”
“Uncle Bucky!” A cheerful voice entered the room as AJ came bounding up to the table.
“Hey, kid,” Bucky smiled, giving the boy a quick fist bump. 
“Uncle Sam told me you would be a part of my recital!”
“He said what now?”
“What?” AJ asked, oblivious.
“Nothing, I—AJ, could you give Uncle Sam and me a second?”
AJ nodded and skipped back outside into the sun. Bucky glared over at Sam.
“So maybe I jumped the gun a bit…”
“Samuel.”
“You can say no,”
“You know I can’t say no now!” Bucky flung his hands out, exasperated. 
“You can! You’ll just disappoint him. But if that’s what you want to do—” Sam trailed off, taking a bite out of his turkey and provolone. 
“This is manipulation.”
“Is it working?” Sam mumbled and swallowed.
Bucky shook his head and stared at his plate. “You owe me.”
“Big time! Promise.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Bucky mumbled, planting his face in his palms.
“Rehearsals are Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Sam got up from the table and grabbed his now empty plate, “you’re making the kid really happy.”
“Yeah, yeah. To be clear, I am doing this for him. Not you. I don’t give a shit about you.” He pointed.
“Love you too, Buddy.” 
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Bucky found himself that very Thursday at the ballet studio, in a small group of parents, as a petite young woman—well, she looked about 60, but compared to Bucky, she was young—introduced herself, a southern accent clear in her cheery tone.
“Welcome parents and volunteers! Most of you already know me, but I’m Ms. Cindy, the head of this program and this year’s Nutcracker! I’d like to start by thanking all of you for taking time out of your busy schedules to be here and support us and your children. It’s you who keep this dance studio up and running, and I’m so grateful for that. Throughout today, you’ll each get called to get your measurements taken so we can be sure that the costumes are ready before the performance. And as for roles, we’ll figure that out at the end of class. I have to go teach the little ones, but feel free to take a seat and watch the choreography your students have been learning all season!”
Bucky followed the others, who seemed to already be acquainted with each other, into a small observing room attached to the studio where AJ was practicing. Bucky stuck himself in the back corner and watched AJ through the one-sided mirror for only a couple of minutes when his name was suddenly called.
“James Barnes?” 
Bucky looked up to see a woman standing in the doorway. He ignored the glances that turned his way as he followed the woman out the door.
Did they know who he was? Did they know what he had done? Or maybe they had no idea. Maybe they were judging him for not engaging with them in polite conversation, maybe they thought he was weird for hiding silently in the corner. 
Bucky pushed the thoughts out of his head as the (attractive, he might add,) woman opened the door for him into a new room. It wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t a closet either, and Bucky immediately noted the lines of clothing racks stuffed with colorful dresses that lined the walls.
“I just need to get your measurements quickly for your costume. I can take them now, or if you’re more comfortable, I can send you a list of measurements I need and you can get those numbers to me on Thursday if you’d prefer.” 
Bucky thought for a moment. He wasn’t entirely sure how to take his own measurements, and he sure as hell did not want Sam of all people helping him. On the other hand, having a stranger so close to him sounds embarrassing and stressful. But he saw the kindness in her eyes, and oddly enough, he felt he could trust her.
“Now is fine."
“Sounds good.” She gave the sweetest smile he had ever seen and told him where to stand. He took off his jacket with ease, feeling somewhat comfortable knowing he had a long-sleeved shirt under to hide his metal arm. He kept his leather gloves on, and she said nothing.
She demonstrated to him how to hold his arm, and he obeyed, holding his right arm out and bent at the elbow. She chatted as she brought the tape measure along his arm. “Which kid is yours?”
“Oh, none of them.” 
He noticed the subtle tilt of her head.
“I mean, I’m not a dad, but I’m AJ’s uncle. Well, a friend of his uncle but,”
Luckily, she stopped his ramble before he could truly embarrass himself.
“Oh, you’re Bucky?” She dropped the tape to her side and smiled. “I’ve met Sam a couple times, but I’ve heard all about you and him from Sarah.”
“Oh? All good things I hope?” 
He asked in a lighthearted tone, but in reality, he was terrified of the things she’d heard about him.
“Only good things.” She grinned and grabbed the pencil behind her ear to scribble a number on a chart.
“That’s a relief.” His eyes scanned the room, trying to think up conversation to fill the silence. “So are you a parent volunteer?”
“Not a parent, no. I used to be a part of this program growing up. It’s done so much for me, and I wanted to stay connected, so I help out here and there when I can. I mostly fit the costumes.”
“That’s cool.” 
Cool. Cool. Cool response Bucky. Ask her a question, dammit.
“Do you still dance?”
“Not anymore. Can you put both arms out to the side please?” She asked, and Bucky lifted his arms so she could measure his chest. She continued to make conversation as she wrapped the tape around him. “AJ is a great student. He has a lot of potential, he just needs to find his confidence. And he’s a great kid. You’re a lucky uncle.”
“I am,” Bucky responded, trying desperately to not freak out at how close she was to him, and how she was only going lower, as she moved to his waist.
She took a break to write down a couple more numbers and returned to him.
“Now I need a hip measurement, so I have to measure around your butt. Is that okay?”
Bucky gave a convincing nod. “Do what you gotta do.”
‘Do what you gotta do’? What the hell am I saying?
He avoided looking at her and held his breath as she brought the tape around his hips.
“Just a couple more measurements and you’ll be out of here,” she assured, dropping the tape from his hips. “You can put your arms down now.”
Bucky let his arms rest at his sides.
She quickly went about measuring his legs and finished a couple of minutes later.
“You’re all good to go, Mr. Barnes, thank you!” 
“You can call me Bucky,” he tried to hide his bashful smile and started to exit out the door, but stopped and turned at the last moment. “What was your name again?”
“Oh, I’m Y/N.” 
“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.” 
He liked the way it felt on his tongue. With that, he said goodbye and returned to the observing room.
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Thirty minutes later class was nearly over. All that was left on the agenda for the day was to form the groups.
“So it seems we have an odd number…Lois, is this everyone?” Ms. Cindy asked, looking over to her assistant.
“Everyone that signed up, yes.” Lois, a shorter girl with an auburn bob, tapped on a clipboard.
“Let’s just see how this goes. Mr. and Mrs. Tudor will be group one, Mr. and Mrs. Malone will be group two, Mrs. and Mrs. Cardoza will be group three, and that leaves Mr. Barnes…”
“We could have him be a single parent to his group?” Lois offered, looking up from her list.
“We could, but then who would he dance with at the party scene?”
Bucky swore he saw a literal lightbulb light up above Ms. Cindy’s head as her gaze fixated somewhere in the back of the room where you were simply passing by.
“Oh, Y/N? Dear?” She called in a uniquely falsetto voice.
“Yes, Ms. Cindy?” Y/N answered, pausing.
“I realize you’re already doing our costumes, but would you be interested in volunteering as one of the parents? We are short a person.”
“Oh, um…”
“You can think about it Dear. It’s no trouble if you feel that it’ll take up too much time, we appreciate you for your dedication to the costumes.” Ms. Cindy was careful to add.
Despite her initial hesitance, Y/N spoke up.
“I can do it.”
“Are you sure?” Ms. Cindy blinked, surprised by the answer.
“Yeah,” she breathed, “yes. I’ve already got measurements, all I need to do is submit an order. And I can’t tailor anything anyways until the shipment comes in.”
“A round of applause for our beautiful and dedicated Y/N, everyone!” Ms. Cindy cheered and began clapping her hands in a circle. The parents all joined in, and Bucky gave a quiet few claps. “That means Mr. Barnes and Y/N will play the fourth couple. Splendid!”
Lois tapped Ms. Cindy on the shoulder and pointed to her watch. Time was almost up. Ms. Cindy was fast to get back to business.
“Now let’s quickly assign each group their children, and then we can end rehearsal.”
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“Buck, I’ve got some good news.” Sam’s voice flowed through Bucky’s phone.
It was Tuesday morning, and Bucky had been up and dressed since seven in the morning, eager to pick AJ up, even though class wasn’t until 5 p.m. He was currently lying on the couch, watching the clock tick by.
“What, you finally learned to use the potty like a big boy?” Bucky mocked.
“It was one time. ONE. TIME. You know I don’t fuck with clowns!”
“I don’t like clowns either, but you don’t see me shitting myself at the Halloween Festival.” Bucky quietly chuckled.
“First of all, I didn’t ‘shit’ myself. I peed. A little. And second of all, I had a lot of hot chocolate beforehand, and my bladder was at max capacity, and—why the hell am I explaining this to you?”
“Because you know I’m never going to let you live it down.”
“Moving on,” Sam sighed, “I was calling to tell you that you don’t need to be in the performance with AJ anymore.”
Bucky shot up from his lying position. “What do you mean?”
“My schedule freed up a bunch so I can take AJ and be in the show now.”
“Oh.”
Bucky slumped back onto the cushions, dejection dripping from his voice. Sam clearly picked up on it.
“What do you mean, ‘Oh’? I thought this was good news for you. I know I forced it onto you and all, and your thing isn’t really being on stage in front of a bunch of people.”
Bucky picked at the edges of his fingers, carefully considering his next words.
“I mean it’s not my thing, but—I don’t know, I feel like I’ve committed. And I get to spend some time with AJ, y’know? And, truth be told, it’s not all bad.”
There was a pause on the line before Sam’s voice rang through.
“That’s awfully sweet Buck. And very out of character for you.”
“Shut the fuck up, I can be nice.”
“Yes, of course. Bucky Barnes, the world’s famous sweetheart, how could I forget?”
“I’m hanging up now,” Bucky warned.
“Bye, metal man.”
“Fuck off bird brain.” Bucky was about to hang up, but quickly added in a serious tone, “I’ll be there this afternoon to pick AJ up.”
“You’re a good man.”
“Whatever.”
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“Welcome back everybody!” Ms. Cindy’s high voice rang. “We are going to practice the beginning of the show where the families enter the party. We’ll take it group by group, so let’s start with group one, the Tudors. Your family is super excited for this party, so we’ll have you enter stage right and I need the children to be skipping and bubbly.”
Ms. Cindy instructed the groups one by one. Eventually, she got to Bucky’s group, which he shared with you and four kids, including AJ.
“And our final group, group four, is the family that does not want to attend. The parents should be trying to get the kids to smile, and at least act like they are happy to be there.”
Bucky let you take the lead and simply followed what you did. He walked beside you, stopped when you stopped, turned when you turned.
“Good, now make it look like you are trying to get the kids to smile.”
Bucky copied the way you pointed to your cheery smile and did his best to ignore the embarrassment bubbling in his chest. 
The comically grumpy—and much better actors than him—kids sighed and plastered on cheery expressions. 
“Good, and you can continue walking.” Ms. Cindy ordered.
Group four finished the short trek across the stage successfully. For such a simple task, Bucky had felt surprisingly nervous. 
Ms. Cindy quickly gave her praise and ordered everyone to start over. As Bucky and his group were going back to the line, she offered some advice.
“Y/N and Mr. Barnes, could you try holding hands? You don’t look as ‘coupley’ as everyone else.”
Bucky gulped. Of course you don’t look as ‘coupley’ as everyone else, all the other couples are actually couples, and married for God’s sake!
You, on the other hand, simply said “Okay.”
“Group one, go,” Ms. Cindy called, and the Tudors began to cross the makeshift stage.
The line moved forward, and Bucky with it. He began to sweat a little. 
Hold your hand? With my left hand? My metal hand?
She simply glanced at him and gave him a small smile.
“And group two,” Ms. Cindy called.
Everyone stepped forward.
The good news is that Bucky was wearing his gloves, but surely she’d notice his hand felt different and think he was weird. Although, did she already know about his arm situation? She did mention that she’d heard about him and Sam from Sarah. Maybe she already knew, and wouldn’t care?
“Group three!”
Bucky looked back at the kids trailing behind him and spotted AJ beaming right back at him. Suddenly, Bucky felt ridiculous. 
Bucky, you’re being an idiot. Be a man and hold her hand. It’s not that deep. You’re doing this for AJ.
“And four,”
He grabbed her hand and started to walk with her. The first thing he noticed was how small her hand felt in his. It gave him an unfamiliar tingly feeling in his chest. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but it was better than anxiety.
He tried his best to puff out his chest and mimic her confidence as they walked. Bucky stopped halfway through, like they were supposed to, and turned to face the kids like last time. He pretended to point to his smile and finished the walk across the stage.
“Excellent! Let’s move on.”
Bucky managed to make it through the entire class without sweating his clothes off from nerves. 
“You ready to go, AJ?” 
AJ yelped, “Wait! I want you to meet one of my friends!” He dramatically waved over to a little girl with a sunflower barrette in her hair who came skipping over. “This is Ava.”
“Hi, Ava.” Bucky gave an awkward smile.
The little girl looked up at him unphased. 
“Hi, Mr. Bucky. So are you really a superhero?”
Straight to the point, huh? “Oh—um,”
“He is!” AJ butted in, “He’s friends with my Uncle Sam, they save the world all the time!”
Ava crossed her arms across her chest and jutted a leg out.
“So can you fly?” She squinted.
“Nope, I can’t fly.” Bucky began to rub the back of his neck.
“Can’t your Uncle Sam fly?” She asked, looking at AJ with skepticism.
“Yep!”
“So if you can’t fly, what can you do?”
Before Bucky could even begin to stutter, Y/N appeared.
“Hey, Ava! I think your mom is looking for you.” She said, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder.
“Okay, I gotta go. Bye AJ,” Ava quickly spouted and ran off towards the doors.
“Bye!” AJ shouted.
Bucky noticed Y/N holding his blue cap out to him.
“I think you forgot your hat.” She spoke softly. 
“Didn’t even realize, thanks.”
“It’s no problem, Bucky.”
Bucky was about to give a lopsided grin when AJ interjected,
“Only friends and family call him that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry! James, then.” She brought her hand to her cheek.
“No, no, Bucky is fine,” Bucky quickly corrected, “you can call me Bucky.”
“You’re sure? I don’t mean to overstep,”
“You aren’t, I like it when you call me Bucky.” 
He instantly felt his cheeks get warm at his confession. Before she could respond, he quickly changed the subject.
“Oh, by the way, I wanted to let you know that I can’t be here at the next rehearsal. AJ will be here, but I completely forgot that I’ve got an appointment that day.” A monthly check-in with Dr. Raynor that he forgot to move. “I don’t know if you want me to meet somewhere instead, or I can just come early on Tuesday and you can catch me up to speed or…I mean whatever you think is best.”
“If you want, we can meet on Friday at my place. I can send you the address if you’d like?”
“Yeah, yes, sure, let me get my phone—” he fumbled while grabbing it out of his pocket, “what’s your number?”
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“Hey, come on in!” Y/N appeared behind the crisp white door of a cute house, not unlike the Wilson’s, and gestured inside before grimacing. “Sorry, I should’ve asked before, are you cool with dogs?”
Bucky nodded.
She gave a sigh of relief and fully opened the door. Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the graying corgi staring back at him.
“This is Frank,” Y/N said, bending down to bring the panting dog into her arms.
“Hi, Frank.” Bucky greeted, giving the dog gentle pets with his right hand. “Your house is lovely,” he added after catching a glance around.
“Oh, thanks!” She smiled, walking into the living room area to set the dog down on the couch. “This is actually my parent’s house, I’m just house and dog sitting for the week while they’re out of town. Usually, I live in my apartment.”
“Is this where you grew up?” Bucky asked, eyes searching the place. He noted the multitude of picture frames lining the wall and the slightly worn couch.
“The first eighteen years of my life. I told myself I’d be out of Louisiana by the time I went to college, but clearly that didn’t happen.” 
“Where did you want to go?”
“New York, San Francisco, I don’t know, maybe even Australia or France.” she laughed at the absurdity and sighed. “C’est la vie,” 
Bucky stuck his thumbs in his pockets and stared down at his feet, unsure of what to do next.
“Can I get you anything? Water? Iced Tea? I can make some coffee. Are you hungry?”
“Just water is fine,”
“Sure, one second.”
Bucky took the opportunity to explore the room. His curiosity was set on the shelf beside the fireplace, and the multitude of shiny awards it adorned. 
Several faux gold figures of ballerinas and a plaque filled the space, as well as what looked to be a photo album. Bucky thought better than to touch it, however, he did notice the significant lack of dust on it compared to the trophies. 
“I see the obnoxious shrine of my dancing days has caught your attention.”
Bucky spun around, cheeks a little pink at the notion of being caught wandering. He was looking for the right thing to say as you took a seat on the couch and placed the water on the coasters.
“Looks like you’re an amazing dancer.” He nodded, hoping that it was the appropriate thing to say.
She ducked her head at the compliment. “I was okay.” She pointed to just beyond his shoulder at the photo album. “You can look at it if you want,” she offered, clearly sensing his curiosity.
Bucky grabbed the binder from its spot on the shelf and took a seat next to her. He slowly opened the book to the first page. 
There you were, 4 years old in a bright pink tutu, beaming at the camera. The page was covered in cute stickers and artistic swirls. 
“My mom has a knack for crafty things,” she said, vaguely gesturing to the book.
Bucky hummed and began to gingerly flip through the pages. It was odd but endearing seeing you change through each photo and page, but one thing that stayed constant was your eyes. In every photo they had the same sparkle, the same light. It looked so right on you, but he didn’t recognize it in you now.
Bucky stopped on the page dedicated to age 17 and marveled at the costume you were wearing. He couldn’t look away from the intricate feathers and sequins.
“That was for our Spring production of Swan Lake.”
Bucky turned to see a subtle smile on her lips. She was looking at the book, but it seemed as if she was seeing right through it.
“You were the swan?”
“Odette, yeah.”
Bucky turned the page once more, except this time there was no photo—just the outline of where one would be on a mostly blank page, minus the glittering bold number “18”.
“Anyway, the choreography,” she quickly chimed, her attitude dramatically changing, “I’ve got the video right here, we can watch it first.”
She snatched the album up and placed it back on the shelf before handing him her phone. Bucky watched the thirty-second clip of two of the volunteers—possibly the Tudors if he remembered correctly—as they danced a shockingly simple routine.
“That’s it?” He cocked an eyebrow. 
“That’s it.” She assured. “Ready to try it?”
“I might be a little rusty, it’s been a while since I’ve danced.”
She turned on the music and started counting under her breath.
They started by facing each other, their right palms in front of them, and placed against each other. They both took a step in, a step out and circled around the other to which they were now in the opposite places. She curtsied, he bowed, and then they repeated the step in, step out, switch. Now they stood next to each other, and she held her arm out over his. They took three steps forward, and the music grew into a faster tempo.
“Easy enough?” Y/N asked, grabbing her phone to stop the music.
It was suspiciously simple, Bucky thought, but then again, the adults were just a small addition to the show. It’s really about the kids.
“We can make this more interesting.” He remarked.
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s try it again.” Bucky gestured to her phone.
She obliged and restarted the music.
They went through the routine again, all the way to the end at which the music began to speed up. As Y/N went to pause the music again, Bucky grabbed her arm and pulled her in. She gave a surprised gasp, but Bucky wasn’t regretful once he saw the smile on her face. He pulled himself back and began to spin her around and basked in her soft laughs. After pulling her back in again, and dancing around each other, he dipped her. She wrapped her right leg around him in response and he hoped she didn’t notice his smirk transform into a blush. 
“Alright Mr. ‘I might be a little rusty’, someone has moves!” 
Bucky helped her up once she removed her leg. 
“I used to be better,” he mumbled.
“None of that,” she softly chided, bringing his chin up, “where did that confidence just go?”
Bucky shook his head. “I’ll keep practicing, then you’ll see,” he simpered.
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Time went on and not a day went by that Bucky didn’t think of you. After weeks of practice, it was finally dress rehearsal. Bucky was surprisingly calm even though they were no longer practicing in a studio, but in the local high school’s theater, in full costume. You held his hand through it—literally, for some parts—and Bucky was grateful for it.
It was Friday night, the final rehearsal before the show the next day, and Bucky was just about to drive off when he realized how cold his hand felt against the steering wheel. He cursed himself and ran back inside, luckily finding his leather gloves sitting on a chair in the wings of the stage. Right as he was about to scamper off, he noticed a figure at the very front of center stage. He recognized her immediately, and without a second thought, he approached from the darkness of the sides and into the light of the stage. She had already changed out of her ballgown and was back in black leggings.
“Hey.” He uttered, slowly taking a seat next to her at the end of the stage. He let his legs dangle over the edge.
“Hey,” she gasped, bringing a hand to her heart. “Sorry, I thought everyone had left.”
“I forgot my gloves.” 
“Seems like you have a habit of forgetting things,” she teased.
“Only when it comes to clothing, apparently.”
“Is AJ not waiting for you?”
“No, he left with a friend. He’s got a sleepover with Marshall tonight.”
“Gotcha.”
A thoughtful quiet settled over them, but Bucky couldn’t ignore the somberness in her eyes, gazing over the expanse of empty velvet seats.
“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“Shoot.”
“Why’d you stop dancing?”
She was quiet for a minute. Bucky started to think she wasn’t going to answer, but eventually, she whispered,
“I didn’t have much of a choice.”
She began mindlessly rubbing her knee.
“I tore my ACL my senior year. It was our annual production of The Nutcracker and I was cast as the Sugar Plum Fairy. There was a rumor that some influential talent scouts were going to be attending. So when my knee started hurting I ignored it. I didn’t tell anyone. I worked my ass off and pushed myself harder when I really should have been resting, but I was stupid.” She gave Bucky a short glance. “Opening night came, and so did my solo. Everything was going fine until I heard a pop. Next thing I know my leg is on fucking fire and I’m hitting the ground.
“I embarrassed myself and our entire company. My knee took longer to heal than it should have because of more poor choices I made. What should have been nine months of healing turned into years. By the time it was safe enough to start dancing again, it was too late. I was too far behind my peers. Even still I sometimes have issues with it.”
Bucky simply nodded, taking in her words.
“I tell myself I’m over it because it was so long ago. But deep down I know I’m not. I’ve asked my parents to take down all of my stupid awards, at least store them away somewhere, because it’s just some sick reminder of what I lost. Actually, the whole reason I started volunteering in the first place is because my mom told me I should. Said it could be good for me. She never said so, but I really think she was hoping that by being surrounded by ballet again, I would feel motivated to begin training again. But it’s a pipe dream.”
She took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling.
“All I ever was was a dancer. And a good one. It was the only thing I was good at, besides sewing, but I only learned that after I injured myself. The whole town knew me as the dancer. I guess the problem with having my entire identity wrapped around one thing is that when that thing goes away…well, who are you? Who am I, if not the girl who’s going to be on the stage one day? My entire identity was ripped from me.
“I’ve just been wading through life. Time keeps moving and crashing around me, but I haven’t changed. I still don’t know who I am, besides the girl who could’ve been great. And now I’m just—stuck.”
Her eyes went wide for a second before squeezing them shut as if she had forgotten she wasn’t alone.
“God, I’m so sorry, you didn’t need to know all of that—”
“No, I—” Bucky stopped her and hesitated to rest his hand on hers. “I can empathize. I hate that you had to go through that. That you’re still going through it. I can understand not knowing who you are anymore.
“A long time ago, I used to be someone else. I used to be charming, independent�� happy. But after I was drafted my identity was no longer my own. I was a fighter. I belonged to the army. And then I belonged to Hydra. And even after, I belonged to the Avengers, the world, whoever needed me to fight, I was their soldier. But I’m tired.” At those words, Bucky slumped. “I don’t want to fight anymore. But I have no fucking clue who I am if not a soldier. I’ve been trying to figure that out.”
“I can’t tell you who you are,” she whispered after a moment, “but I can tell you that whoever you are, I like you.” 
Bucky blushed.
“I like you too. It’s kind of embarrassing actually,”
“What is?”
“I didn’t really want to volunteer for this. Sam forced me. And while I love being here for AJ, I’d much rather hang out with him outside the theater where I’m not expected to be looked at on stage. But then I met this pretty costume designer…and suddenly it wasn’t so bad.”
“Pretty?” She asked, tilting her head.
“Beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.” He specified.
“What a coincidence. I also met the most handsome and charming man recently.”
“Charming?”
“He doesn’t realize how charming he is. I guess that’s part of his charm.”
“He sounds great.” He turned to face her more directly. “Just to be clear, you are talking about me, yes?”
“Yes, you oaf.” She laughed.
Bucky pursed his lips.
“Would you be willing to let this oaf take you out on a date sometime?”
“More than willing.”
“That’s a relief,” he sighed, falling back onto the stage. “I figured it was 50/50.”
She gave him a silly grin and shook her head in amusement.
“You underestimate yourself, Bucky Barnes.”
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The final performance was perfect. Well, as perfect as it could be with a production of the Nutcracker with dancers ages ranging from 6 to 106. Most importantly, AJ had fun and did a fantastic job. After the show and final bows, Sarah, Sam, and Cass came rushing onto the stage to congratulate AJ (and Bucky of course. Sam made sure to tell him that he was very proud of how brave he was, and Bucky rolled his eyes. He secretly appreciated it, though.) Cass handed one bouquet to his little brother and the other to his uncle, who funny enough lit up in a similar way as his nephew at the gift. But Y/N lit up the most when Sarah handed a third bouquet to her.
“For keeping Bucky in line, and giving a beautiful performance,” Sarah clarified.
“You’re so sweet,” she beamed, pulling Sarah in for a quick hug. “I have the perfect vase for this.”
“Can we go get ice cream now?” AJ jumped. 
“Let’s get you out of your costume first,” Sam said and gave a quick wink to Bucky before herding his sister and Nephews backstage. “We’ll see you by the car Buck.”
Bucky nodded and turned his full attention to Y/N. He felt weirdly high after the performance. “Wanna join us for ice cream?” He asked, placing his hands on her waist.
“Gladly.” She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.
I like dancing with you.
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A/N: If you've made it this far, tysm for reading!!! I really hope this doesn't suck complete ass, idk what happened 😰 Im going to go hide in a hole now and question everything
If you'd like to read more, here's my Masterlist
Happy holidays!
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How’s Your Head? | Bucky Barnes x Reader
This has been in my WIP forever and I finally finished it. Once again, I am looking for a soft, kind, Bucky Barnes to take care of me and flirt with me. Is that so much to ask?🥲
This is slightly longer than my usual stuff, just FYI. The WC is 7280. And yes the title is a Drag Race reference. 😂
Warnings: reader injury (not severe), creepy men (jail), blood, vomit, flirting, fluff🫶
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Bucky didn’t like the staring. The eyes that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. The old woman just a few seats down from him leered at him almost aggressively, like she hoped looks could kill. And though this was a common occurrence, it still rubbed him the wrong way.
“Another adoring fan…” Bucky thought. 
He shifted side to side along with the rocking of the subway car and did his best to ignore her gaze- but couldn’t stand it any longer. He gave her a nod and a small, forced smile before heading for the adjoining subway car. Hopefully, he’d find an empty seat free from gawkers and onlookers.
But when he opened the door to the next car, he didn’t find the peace and quiet he’d hoped for.
“I’m not interested…” you said to the creepy guy sitting next to you.
“Oh, come on,” the man insisted. “Don’t be so uptight, sugar.” He rested a hand on your thigh and gave your leg a squeeze, his fingers digging into your flesh.
“Fuck off, dude. Seriously?” You banished his hand and stood from your seat, “eat glass, asshole.”
But as you tried to make your getaway, the man grabbed you by the wrist. He pulled you close as you struggled in his grip, his face only inches from yours. “Maybe you should learn some fuckin’ manners,” he threw you to the ground, your head striking the floor.
Bucky flew into a blind rage. He made quick work of your assailant, nearly removing the man’s head from his body. And with the entitled dickhead desperately escaping to another subway car, Bucky made his way to your side. 
“Hey, are you alright?” 
You sat on the floor, slightly dazed. A thick fog settled into every corner of your mind and your ears stung with a sharp ringing. “Yeah, I’m good. Didn’t hurt that bad,” you lied. Yet another interaction with an unknown man. Yes, he’d shooed away your creeper, but you wanted to be left alone. No more strange men, no more men pretending to be “one of the good guys” before showing their true self. 
If you could convince this random guy that you were okay, maybe he wouldn’t bother you. Maybe you’d be able to make it home without being touched by another strange hand. “Thanks for asking, but I’m-”
“Oh- you’re bleeding”. Only then did you notice the rush of warmth running down the back of your neck. Bucky yanked the jacket from his body and reached for your bloodied skull before quickly recoiling. “Erm, can I?” 
You nodded- the motion made you wince.
With cautious hands, he used his jacket to hold pressure to your wound. He stared down at you with genuine concern, his brow furrowed with worry. 
After a few moments, most of the fog cleared and brought you screeching back to reality. The reality in which a man you’d never met held his jacket to your bleeding scalp as you sat on the floor of a subway car. Pain pulsed beneath his touch and shot through your head. Warm blood dripped down your neck. But you didn’t care- all you wanted was to move.
Bucky watched as you struggled to get up and instantly tried to stop you. “Hey, careful. I don’t think-”
“I don’t wanna be on this floor any longer than I have to,” you did your best to stand, but the dizziness sabotaged your efforts. “People do weird shit on the train. I’d probably sitting in someone’s pee.” 
Bucky gave it a thought and instantly reconsidered his cautioning. “Ew. Yeah. You’re right,” the disgusted look on his face nearly made you laugh out loud. He thought back on all the questionable and downright nasty things he’d seen on the subway- he didn’t want you on that floor. “May I?” He offered you his free hand and got you safely into a seat. 
“Which stop is yours?” He asked, settling into the chair next to you. And though he seemed like a perfect gentleman, you gave him a suspicious glance. 
“Oh- I didn’t mean that in a ‘where do you live, I’m gonna follow you home’ type of way. More like, ‘how many stops do you have left before you can go get some rest?’ type of way”
You let out a laugh that sent pain pulsing behind your eyes. Maybe this stranger wasn’t so bad. “Um, I still have like five to go. I think. I’m coming all the way from Coney Island.” 
“Coney Island, huh?” A rush of memories hit Bucky like a train. Riding the cyclone with Steve and watching him puke. Spending all his money to win a stuffed animal for some redhead he had a crush on. 
“Yeah, I got to hang out with a girl I know from college. Haven’t seen her in a while and she’s never been out there. It was actually a pretty great day until that asshole cracked my head open…”
Bucky grimaced. He pulled his jacket from your scalp to give the wound another look, only to be greeted by a continuous flow of blood. “I think you should probably go to the ER. You might need stitches. And there’s a good chance you have a concussion.” 
You shot him only a nonchalant shrug, “I’m not worried about it. Plus, I don’t feel like going into debt so they can give me two Tylenol and an ice pack”.
Bucky liked your sense of humor, your wit. How you could be cheeky and sarcastic after being accosted surprised him. But he clocked the tension in your shoulders, the worry in your eyes. You were uneasy. Your glance darted from one end of the subway car to the other every few seconds; he knew you had to be searching for your assailant. Or the next man who wanted to touch you without permission.
“Hey, would you rather take a cab home?” Bucky said, pulling you from your anxious spiral. “I don’t blame you if you don’t want to ride the train after what happened.”
“Oh, um…”
“I’m not inviting myself home with you-” Bucky shook his head. He was cute when he got flustered. “I just mean, I’ll pay for you to take a cab if you’re uncomfortable.”
How you seemed to meet both the bottom of the barrel and the crème de le crème of men back-to-back nearly gave you whiplash. But this handsome stranger had done enough; you couldn’t let him pay for your ride home. “That’s- wow, that’s really sweet. But you don’t have to. It’s okay.”
“What if I want to? You seem uneasy… like you’re waiting for him to come back.”
You nodded.
“Then let’s get you a cab, alright? Next stop, we’re outta here.” He shot you a wink before once again reassuring you that he was not going to follow you home. “Is there someone who can keep an eye on you, though? Like I said, you probably have a concussion. And if your roommate or, um, significant other can sit with you for the rest of the night, that would be a good idea. Head injuries are no joke.”
“Well, I don’t have a significant other,” you almost laughed. “And my roommate’s out of town. She was supposed to get back around sevenish, but her flight got crazy delayed because of weather- now she’s not getting home for a few hours.”
Bucky’s brow furrowed. He checked his watch and saw that it was only 8:04pm. He needed someone to sit with you for the rest of the night. Just in case something happened, you’d need a friend or loved one by your side. And if you didn’t have someone there with you, Bucky knew he’d spend the remainder of his evening worrying about the cute stranger he met on the train. 
Just then, the subway stopped. Bucky offered you his arm and guided you onto the platform and up the stairs- all while keeping his jacket in place against your wound. Getting away from the train eliminated your unease. No longer were you trapped in the tiny space, your blood staining the floor. You had an escort in the form of a good samaritan, and a ride that would get you home without any further abuse.
 But when Bucky hailed you a cab, your anxiety resurfaced.
“Hey, um…” you eyed the car as it approached, “Would you- do you mind riding with me?”
Bucky cocked his head to the side. 
“I don’t know- I’m just a little nervous and I don’t really wanna be in a cab alone with another random man,” you said. “I know it’s probably inconvenient for you- I’ll pay for your ride home from my place.” The taxi neared the curb and stopped in front of you, sending your unease into overdrive. “Do you mind?”
Bucky clocked your wide eyes and shaking hands. Sure, you made jokes and sarcastic quips about what happened. But deep down, you were shaken. And he wanted to help in any way he could. “Not at all- I get it,” he gave you a reassuring look, “and you don’t have to pay for my ride. Let’s just get you home, alright?”
He held the door open for you and helped you into the cab before sliding in behind you- his hand still attached to your bloody skull. The ride was quiet, save for the honking of horns and cursing drivers. But having Bucky with you for the duration eased your discomfort. 
“So, is there anyone you can call to come look after you?” Bucky asked after a while, “A friend, a neighbor, a family member?”
“I don’t really have any friends,” you said. “But not in a ‘I’m a loser and can’t make friends’ kind of way, I promise.” Bucky laughed. You liked his laugh. “I’m just still kinda new here. And all my family lives in across the country. Plus, I only know two of my neighbors. One of them is an old man who always tell me my skin looks ‘so soft’-”
Bucky’s nose wrinkled, “Ew…"
“Yeah. And the other is this girl who told me to shut the fuck up because she thinks my footsteps are too loud? So yeah, I don’t have many connections here yet.”
He sensed a little embarrassment staining your words and aimed to make you feel better, “Well I’ve lived here for quite some time, and I don’t have any friends, either.” 
That didn’t seem possible to you. He was so likable. Quiet, yet endearing. And certainly, a gentleman. He made you feel safe. You wondered how his girlfriend would react when she found out he took another woman home. 
Bucky found himself wondering how you didn’t have swaths of friends. Even after your harrowing experience on the train, you were so charming. Funny. Sweet. It was even harder for him to believe you didn’t have a love interest to go home to. But after what he’d witnessed tonight, he didn’t blame you for keeping to yourself. 
“What part of town do you live in?” You did your best to conceal the optimism in your voice, the hoped that he lived close by. It was embarrassing how smitten you were with this man.
“Brooklyn,” Bucky said. “I’ve lived there for a while- save for some years I spent, um, away.”
Brooklyn. Nothing a quick train ride couldn’t solve. Though you weren’t too keen on the subway after the night’s events. “Well, tell your girlfriend that I apologize for keeping you so long.”
“I don’t have one,” Bucky said. Things inside the cab fell quiet.
“Oh. Well, do you-” you second guessed yourself, but decided to push through. “Do you want to stay with me until my roommate gets home? You know, since you’re so worried about me and my possible concussion and my lack of friends.”
Bucky stopped breathing. “Oh, um. Sure. Yeah. If that’s- if that’s alright. You sure you’re okay inviting a stranger into your house?”
“Well, you’re not really a stranger, Sergeant Barnes”. You shot him a wink.
An immediate ringing filled Bucky’s ears. He didn’t know what to say, how to react.
The rest of the ride was quiet. Bucky’s mind echoed with the sound of your voice referring to him by name. He liked the way it sounded coming from you. But he hated that you knew who- and what- he was. And when the cab turned onto your street and stopped in front of your apartment, he nearly panicked. He reconsidered his agreement to stay with you. But you didn’t seem to mind having the ex-Winter Soldier so close. And he didn’t want you to be alone with a head injury.
Against his better judgement, he followed you to the front door of your building. 
“My great aunt actually lived here back in the fifties,” you told Bucky as you fumbled for your keys. Bucky wondered how you could tell casual stories while dealing with a head injury and an ex-assassin. But as you continued to speak, he realized that he didn’t quite hear what you’d said. He was still reeling from your mention of his name. 
And then he noticed you struggling. You were dizzy after cracking your head open, and a slight shaking rendered your hands almost useless. No matter how many times you tried, you couldn’t seem to finagle the key into the lock. 
“Um, do you want some help?” He gestured to your keys and allowed you to drop them into his free hand. He pushed the old door open with a loud creak and escorted you inside the lobby- his hand still resting on the back of your head. It was quiet while the two of you waited for the ancient elevator to roar to life. And when the doors finally opened, he guided you inside and watched you press the ‘5’ button.
“So… how’d you know it was me?” He asked as the elevator slowly climbed to your floor.
“Well, when I first saw you, I thought you looked kinda familiar. But I couldn’t place you”. You laughed a quiet, bashful laugh, “Then you knelt down next to me, and I thought I was gonna pass out- but not from the head trauma. You just you have like, the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.” The head injury had you a bit loopy, a little too honest. Too confident. “I knew I’d seen those eyes before… and then it clicked. You were so chivalrous, you know? So old fashioned. I mean, who uses their own jacket to stop a stranger’s head wound from bleeding?” 
Bucky shrugged. His cheeks flushed pink.
“I read a book a few years ago about Captain America and his efforts during World War II. And there was a huge portion about Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes… And that’s where I’d seen those eyes.” You flashed him a dramatic wink, “Truth be told, it was my favorite part of the book.”
A shy laugh made its way out of Bucky’s mouth, “Is that so?”
The elevator lurched to a stop and nearly sent you tumbling to the floor. You’d gotten used to the clunky machine since moving into the building, but your sabotaged equilibrium didn’t stand a chance against it. Bucky caught you in a careful, protective grasp before you could tip over. He gently righted you and searched your face for any indicators of discomfort. 
“You alright?”
“All good, Sergeant Barnes.” You gave him a salute.
He rolled his eyes and escorted you into the hall, “you can just call me Bucky, if you like.”
“Okay, Bucky-” you said with a smile, “follow me.” You lead him in the direction of your apartment- with his jacket still plastered to your scalp. The man was determined to help you. You’d give him that.
You once again needed his assistance when it came to unlocking your front door. But when Bucky got the door open, he just stood there. He didn’t go inside. He held the door for you and insisted you go ahead, finally peeling the jacket from your wound. He knew he didn’t belong here.
You noticed how tentative he was about entering your home and beckoned him inside. “You can come in…” you said. “Are super soldiers like vampires? Do y’all need an invitation?”
Bucky laughed, “No. I just… I don’t do this kind of thing very often.”
“Oh, you don’t accompany injured women home from the subway on a weekly basis? I’m shocked.”
You flipped on the light and let the warm glow reveal your apartment. Bucky admired the art covering your walls, the books lining your shelves, the smell of some kind of baked goods lingering in the air. This place was cozy, welcoming. Nothing like his apartment.
While he was distracted drinking in the details of your home, you gave his jacket a once over. Blood coated the leather and smeared the lining. It was enough to make you nauseous.  “Sorry about this mess… here, let me clean it up for-”
“It’s leather- I’m not worried about it,” Bucky shrugged. “I’ll just wipe it off later.”
“Ew, I think that’s considered a biohazard, Sarge.”
Bucky’s laugh echoed through your home- you liked the sound of his voice bouncing around your space. “Well, lucky for me, I’m not susceptible to biohazards. So, really, it’s not a big deal.” He shot you a wink and hung his bloody jacket on the back of a chair. “Let me take a look at your head.”
He gently moved your hair out of the way enough to expose your wound. He was as careful as he possible not to hurt you or make things worse. And using the dish towel you offered him, he wiped away enough blood to get a good look. 
“It’s big, but not deep enough to warrant stitches. And it looks like the bleeding has finally come to a stop.” 
“Perfect. I’m gonna go take a shower” you said. “Make yourself at home. You’re welcome to anything in the fridge, except the kombucha. My roommate will murder you if you drink her kombucha.”
Bucky didn’t even know what kombucha was. “Are- are you sure you wanna go shower?”
“Um, yeah. Gotta get the subway-floor germs off me,” you gave a dramatic shudder. “Some of us are, indeed, susceptible to biohazards.”
“That’s fair,” he laughed, “I’m just a little worried about your balance… I think it’s probably seen better days.”
He wasn’t wrong. The floor did indeed seem to dip and shift under you unsuspecting feet. The room spun on occasion. The walls wiggled. But you needed to get cleaned up. “I’ll be extra careful. Promise.” You offered him your pinky and made him link his with yours. “But I have more blood in my hair than anyone should- I need a shower.” You left Bucky alone in your living room with a promise to be back soon.
It was strange for him, being in a stranger’s home like this. He didn’t get invited places or have friends to hang out with. He had Sam- and that was it. And while Sam was great, he never felt quite like this at Sam’s apartment. Something about your place warmed him, made him feel a little lighter. Or maybe it was you. Who was he kidding? Of course, it was you.
But Bucky knew this feeling couldn’t last. In a few hours, your roommate would return and send him home. And that would be the end of it. Of course, he’d be thrilled to see you again under better circumstances. But assuming he’d get that chance would only lead to disappointment. And so, as he waited for you to finish your shower, he did his best to remember this feeling just in case it was the last time.
“I said make yourself at home and you didn’t even sit down!” you said when you emerged from the bathroom. You found Bucky in the living room with his hands in his pockets, admiring your things as though he were in a museum. Looking, never touching. “Relax a little, sarge. The couch is really comfy, I promise.”
Bucky liked the way you looked with your skin still slightly damp form the shower, your hair wet and a little messy. “Oh, yeah- I just got distracted looking at all your…” he gestured to your bookcase, “your books and your tchotchkes. You have good taste- I like that you have two copies of Fellowship of the Ring.”
“Well, my sister dropped one of them in the lake at summer camp when we were kids…” you pointed to the faded cover and worn spine of the book in question. “She took a hairdryer to it and it’s mostly fine, but my mom made her get me a replacement. I just can’t seem to part with this one, though.�� You plucked your water-damaged copy of Fellowship of the Ring from the shelf and flipped through the pages, “too much sentimental value. You know?
Bucky felt a small smile creeping upward- you didn’t mind damaged goods. Maybe you’d want to see him again after all. 
“Can I get you a drink or something? I have water, tea, La Croix, wine…” you looked at him expectantly. 
“Oh, no I’m okay-”
“Well, I’m going to the fridge for some water anyway, so you’re not saving me a trip…” you shot him a wink and began your trek to the kitchen. He followed in your footsteps, too much of a gentleman to let you fetch him a drink. And though he didn’t know what La Croix was, he took the one you offered him with a smile.
He followed you yet again, but to the couch this time. He sat a respectful distance away- as respectful as your small couch would allow- and taste tested the blackberry drink in his hand. It didn’t taste like blackberries. But he thanked you, anyway.
He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to check in on you after your shower- he was too entranced by the sight of you in your pajamas. “Hey, how’s your head?”
“Haven’t had any complaints.”
Maybe it was too forward of a joke. Maybe someone from his time wouldn’t appreciate crass humor. Bucky’s cheeks flushed red- and he burst into laughter. You joined him, ignoring the throbbing pain in your skull. 
“It feels fine. I mean, it hurts, but it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before” you said. “Are you just gonna make sure I stay up all night?” 
Bucky cocked his head to the side, “uh, I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Oh…” you grew a little embarrassed. “I thought you couldn’t go to sleep if you have a concussion.”
“You can go to sleep- it’s just good to have someone check in on you now and then,” he said. “And, hey, you don’t have to stay in here with me- don’t feel like you have to entertain me, or anything. If you wanna go to bed, I’ll be fine out here.”
“Well, I don’t know about entertaining, cause I think the concussion kinda fucked up my ability to tap dance,” you laughed. “But I wanna hang out here with you- if you don’t mind the company.”
He gave you a shy smile, “I don’t mind at all.”
Bucky wasn’t anything like the tabloids said. He wasn’t cold or scary or threatening. He sat on your couch, sipping a La Croix and admiring your throw blanket. He was the farthest thing from intimidating. He had a quiet calm about him that brought you peace. Never did you think you’d invite a man you met on the subway to accompany you home. But Bucky made you feel safe. He was sweet, he clearly cared for your well-being. He was, by all definitions, perfect.
“So, what do superheroes do in their downtime?” you asked. “Like when you’re not saving the world, what do you do for fun?”
Bucky shrugged. He didn’t do anything for fun. “Um, I have court mandated therapy appointments,” he gave an awkward laugh. “I read. I hang out with Sam when he’s not in Louisiana visiting his sister. And I have lunch with a neighbor of mine every Wednesday- this old man named Yori.”
“I’m sure he could say the same about you- that he has lunch with some old man named Bucky.”
Bucky’s head fell back in a laugh, “yeah, you’re right. He’s- he’s about twenty years younger than me.” Bucky didn’t bring up the fact that Yori didn’t know his real age or anything about his past. About how the Winter Soldier killed his son. “Um, what about you?” He quickly changed the subject, “what do you do for fun?”
You thought it over for a moment. You hadn’t expected him to ask; most guys never asked what you liked to do for fun. They didn’t ask you anything at all, really. “Well, I also go to therapy,” you said. “My therapist’s name is Angela and I love her. And when I’m not ‘hanging out’ with Angela, I like to read. I like to go on walks. Oh, and I do a lot of baking- there’s a Tupperware of chocolate chip cookies on the island if you want some.”
Bucky’s eyes grew wide. He was off the couch quicker than you could comprehend and returned with the entire Tupperware in hand. But before he could dive in, he offered one to you. He was a gentleman, after all. 
“Oh, shit, these are so good”. Bucky wiped a stray crumb from his lip, “seriously, maybe the best I’ve ever had.”
His praise made your cheeks hot. Bucky Barnes called you ‘the best he ever had’- it was enough to make you sweat. “Oh, I’m flattered. The recipe’s been in my family for generations, though, so I can’t take full credit, but I-”
“I’m giving you full credit”, he said as he finished his second cookie. “These things are incredible.” 
You smiled so hard it hurt. “Well, I make at least one batch a week, so…” This was it, your excuse to see Bucky again. You could simply say that you wanted to bake him some cookies as a way of saying thank you, and then you’d ask him out. It was a perfect plan, really. A flawless, surefire way to guarantee that you’d see him at least once more. But as you tried to suggest baking him a ‘thank you’ batch, your mouth flooded with saliva.
Bucky clocked the way you grew suddenly quiet. He dropped his third cookie and inched closer, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, you okay? Do you need something?”
You did your best to push past the wave of nausea. Breathing in your nose and out through your mouth, you willed your body to cooperate. You made a valiant effort, but it was no match for the clear and present threat of vomit. This was happening- now. You scrambled to your feet and made a beeline for the bathroom, swearing to yourself you wouldn’t puke in front of the James Buchanan Barnes. 
Bucky rushed after you and found you kneeling in front of the toilet, emptying the contents of your stomach. “Oh, shit- here, let me,” he carefully moved your hair out of your face, holding it behind you in an imitation ponytail. His touch was gentle, cautious. He didn’t want to pull too hard and hurt you- you didn’t need any extra pain. 
He watched your body lurch as you wretched over and over, voiding your system completely. It was harsh, almost violent. And when you finally sat back on your heels, black and white spots danced through your field of vision. You were empty. Spent. Exhausted. 
“Hey, do me a favor and sit against this wall, okay?” Bucky guided you backward until you rested comfortably like he asked. “I’m gonna go get you some water, and I don’t want you tipping over while I’m gone.” Even in your despondent, miserable state, he still made you smile. And when he was certain that you wouldn’t injure yourself in his absence, he rushed to the kitchen for a glass of water.
He returned moments later with ice cold water in hand. “Thanks,” you croaked, your throat raw. Small sips of the cool water eased the burning. And a few more swigs rid your mouth of the unpleasant aftertaste. “I’m sure you weren’t planning on watching a stranger puke tonight,” you laughed. It made your head pound. “But I appreciate the water. And you holding my hair.”
Bucky plopped down next to you with a “sure thing” and a “don’t worry about it.” But you’d heard those phrases before. You’d heard them from people who were never a sure thing, people who made you worry about everything they did for you. They’d throw their rare acts of kindness in your face and use them as ammo in an attempt to disprove the pain they caused. It was condescending. Manipulative. Hurtful.  But Bucky meant what he said. All he wanted to do was help. You could tell.
He watched you catch your breath. Watched you drink your water in small sips. But he kept an eye out for another wave of nausea. He wanted to be ready in case he needed to hold your hair again. And he found himself thanking the universe that you’d invited him in; imagining you going through this by yourself broke his heart. 
“How do you feel?” he asked after a while.
“Not the best... but I’ll probably survive.”
Bucky’s laugh filled the room, “well, that’s very good news.”
The two of you sat in a comfortable silence. Bucky’s hand rested near yours. Your thigh bumped against his a few times. You swore electric currents passed between the two of you each time you touched. 
“Hey, if you don’t mind, could you grab me some Tylenol?” 
Bucky was up in an instant, ready to fetch you what you needed. But he found himself lost with no idea where he was going. He was so intent on helping, on making you feel better, that he was ready to run off without a map.
“In the cabinet to the left of the fridge,” you laughed. 
He shot you a wink and sped off. And while he rummaged through your cabinet, you made an embarrassing effort to stand. You rose on wobbly legs, determined to brush your teeth. There was no way you were going to have vomit breath around Bucky- absolutely not. He was the handsome stranger of your dreams. And you couldn’t screw this up; not that you thought he’d kiss a random concussed woman he met on the subway. But you wanted to leave the very best impression possible.
Bucky came screeching own the hall, bottle of Tylenol in hand. “I didn’t know how many you wanted, so I brought the whole thing”, he shrugged. You shot him a smile in the mirror and gave him a muffled “thanks”.
He stood patiently in the doorway, waiting for you finish brushing your teeth. And when you banished the rank taste of bile, you accepted the Tylenol. You tossed back four pills, and before you could reach for your water, Bucky retrieved it for you. He was one step ahead of what you needed. 
With the pills washed down your throat, you gave Bucky an expectant look. “Back to the couch?”
“Yeah, I mean, only if you’re feeling up to it,” he checked his watch. Noticed the yawn you tried to keep concealed. “If you wanna get some rest, please, don’t mind me. You can go to bed- I’ll be fine on my own.”
“No, I’m good. I’m fine,” you took him by the hand and led him back to the living room. “I’m having a good time.” Bucky didn’t say a word; he just let you guide him. He hadn’t held hands with someone in- he didn’t know how long. And holding hands with you- a stranger he’d grown rather smitten with- was enough to stop his heart.
The two of you sunk back into the couch- closer this time- and kept the conversation going. Your thigh rested against Bucky’s; his arm curved around the back of the couch. You could’ve sworn he was playing with a piece of your hair as he talked. But you didn’t want to ask and ruin the moment.
As the night continued, Bucky was shocked. He couldn’t believe you’d only heard of a few of his favorite movies. And he’d never heard of any of yours. “Make me a list,” you said, handing him a pen and a scrap of paper. “And I’ll make one for you. A person’s favorite movies say a lot about them.” 
“Yeah?” he cocked an eyebrow at you. “And what do mine say about me? The ones you know of, that is.”
A sly smile pulled at your lips, “they say that you’re a hopeless romantic.” It almost sounded like an accusation, and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. 
“Is that so?”
“That is so!” you told him. “But I’m gonna tell you a secret…”  You lowered your voice, beckoned him closer, scanned the room as though in search of any eavesdroppers. “I’m the same way.” 
Just as you finished your list of movies for Bucky, you considered writing down your number. It would be so smooth, so perfectly timed- but what if he thought it was too forward? What if he didn’t want your phone number at all? You scratched out your area code and handed him the list with a smile.
The two of you continued teasing and joking and learning about each other. You found out that Bucky loved peach cobbler. He learned about your passion for animals. And eventually you asked the question you’d been curious about all night.
“So, where were you headed?” 
“What?”
“Well, you were on the subway. I’m assuming you were going somewhere.” You thought he was probably going to some fellow hero’s house for Super Movie Night. Or maybe a meeting with Captain America and Company. He had something much cooler to do than anything you planned for the night, that was for sure.
“Oh, right…” he cringed. “Um, I wasn’t actually heading anywhere. I was just riding the train to, well, ride the train.” It was embarrassing. More embarrassing than anything he’d ever done or said in his hundred years of life.
You cocked your head to the side, “Hmm. Interesting. So, is that like a hobby of yours?” 
He wished he could take his answer back. He wished he would’ve said he was going to dinner. Or Target. Or literally anywhere. But no, he just had to be honest. “No, it isn’t a hobby. It’s more like… exposure therapy.”
“Shit. Sorry,” you threw him an apologetic look. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
“It’s okay, no big deal. I just- I don’t really like confined spaces. Or spaces with a lot of people. It’s a- it’s a long story.”
You nodded. 
“So, my therapist told me two combine the two and force myself to take the train- which isn’t great for my fear of trains,” he let out an awkward laugh. “Anyway, I was just trying it out. Seeing how it made me feel.”
Your heart broke for him. He had so many problems, so much trauma to deal with. And while you weren’t a psychiatrist, you didn’t think combining three of his fears into one nightmare was very sound medical advice. “And how did it make you feel?” 
“It wasn’t great- this lady was staring daggers at me for ten solid minutes. But I did get to teach that creepy guy a lesson, so at least there’s a silver lining.”
You laughed. He loved the sound- wanted to hear it all the time. 
“Thank you again, by the way, Sarge. You really rocked that guy’s shit.”
“I don’t like hurting people-” he shrugged, “It’s just something I’m good at. I try not to engage in violence unless absolutely necessary, you know? But that guy deserved it. Probably deserved a little more, but…” He gestured to you, “priorities.”
A warm rush flooded your cheeks. James Buchanan Barnes referred to you as a priority. 
The evening continued as the two of you swapped stories. You couldn’t believe how funny he was, how many ridiculous things he did back when he was young. In the comfortable safety of your living room, he came alive. You asked for more tales of young James Barnes and his antics with Steve Rogers. 
But as time passed, Bucky clocked the way you sank deeper into the couch. You nodded along with his stories and made comments here and there, but there was no mistaking your exhaustion. You leaned against his body more and more until your head rested on his shoulder. 
And then, you were asleep. Completely out. 
But Bucky didn’t mind. He sat still and quiet. He silenced his phone and yours. After the night you had, you needed the rest. And he was more than happy to help you get some sleep. He held in his laughter as you muttered nonsense under your breath- something about crepes and trench coats. It was perfect. Not the night Bucky expected, but the night he needed. And he’d stay in that exact position for hours if he had to. 
But after only forty minutes, a loud crash scared you awake.
Two large pieces of luggage fell to the floor inside your front door. “Fuck Delta airlines and FUCK LAX!” your roommate, Emma, yelled. “I swear to god, there’s a curse on that fucking airport and Delta is the devil’s airline.”
She eyed the room for a moment, taking in the unexpected scene. “Ew, why is there a bloody jacket in the kitchen? And who the fuck are you?”
You stood, begrudgingly leaving your spot next to Bucky. “This is Bucky, that’s his jacket. Some asshole attacked me on the train. I split my head open. He brought me home and kept an eye on me till you got back.”
Maybe she was just in a shit mood because of the travel nightmare. Or maybe she recognized Bucky. But either way, Emma wasn’t having it. “Okay, well, thanks for bringing her home. But I’m back, so you can go. Now. And don’t forget your nasty jacket.”
Bucky gave an awkward laugh. He mumbled a “nice to meet you” and stood from the couch. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, and you wished telepathy came with the serum. If he could only read your mind, he’d know how sorry you were. How horrified you were by Emma’s behavior. You couldn’t believe how rude she was being, how utterly unkind. 
But your mind and body weren’t quite working together. You were still groggy, lost in the haze of sleep. And your head injury only made things more difficult. You did your best to formulate a response to Emma and an apology to Bucky. But before you could say anything, Emma was at it again. 
“Seriously, dude. It’s time for you to go, get out of my house.”
Bucky was so flustered, so uncomfortable that he left without saying goodbye. Without getting your number. He shut down. He simply snagged his jacket from the kitchen and bailed. He heard you arguing with Emma as he walked down the hall. Heard you near-tears. 
He wanted to turn around and say goodnight. To protect you from Emma’s wrath. Comfort you. More than anything, he wanted to get your number. Maybe ask you out. But he was too thrown off by the whole thing. He didn’t expect such a response- he didn’t even get to tell Emma that you needed looking after. He just ran. And it made him feel like a coward. 
He pressed the button for the ancient elevator once. Twice. Five times. And when it finally arrived, he got in and slammed the button for the first floor. Ruining his chances of ever seeing you again. Sure, he knew where you lived. But he couldn’t just show up. You’d already dealt with enough creepy shit from weird men- he wasn’t going to stalk you. 
Bucky spent the entire elevator ride heartbroken. He knew he’d have to go home to his empty apartment; knew he’d think about you for way too long. You’d probably forget about him after a day- maybe two at the most. And he’d spend months trying to get over the stranger from the subway.
But when he stepped out of the elevator, he found you waiting for him.
“Hi, um… what?” He was more than a little confused. “How did you- how’d you get down here so fast?”
“Stairs,” you breathed. “Faster.”
Bucky couldn’t believe you. It was romantic; it was something out of one of his favorite movies. But it was stupid. “That was… that was a terrible idea- you could’ve gotten hurt. You almost fell over earlier when you were just standing still. Why’d you run down the stairs?”
“Cause I didn’t get to say goodbye…” your voice was soft, heartbroken. “And I didn’t get to give you my number.”
Wordlessly, Bucky handed you his phone. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to chance ruining such a perfect opportunity. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him, of all people. That you actually wanted to see him again.
When you finished, you extended Bucky’s phone in his direction- but recoiled as he tried to reach for it. “Promise me you’ll call?”
“On my life,” he said. The answer brought a warm smile to your face- a smile he wanted to see again. As soon as possible. And when you gave his phone back, he took a moment to stare down at your number. This had to be a dream. 
“Do me a favor and go get some rest, okay?” He extended his pinky and linked it with yours, “Drink a lot of water. And even though she seems like she’s in a bad mood, ask your roommate to check in on you every now and then.”
“Yeah, like she’s gonna go for that-”
“Tell her that if she doesn’t, I’m coming back to look after you myself. And I’ll drink her, her um…” 
“Kombucha,” you whispered. 
“Right, I’ll drink her Kombucha!” He laughed and shot you a wink, “That’ll do the trick.”
You pressed a kiss to his cheek, wiggled your pinky with his, and stepped into the still-open elevator doors. “Thank you for everything. I’m really happy I met you.” 
Bucky blushed. “So am I. Not under the best circumstances, but-”
“Worth it,” you shot him a wink. Just as the doors began to close, the two of you exchanged waves. And just before Bucky vanished from view, you threw a quick “call me” his way. And then he was gone.
You made it back to your apartment, nearly tripping over Emma’s luggage. She apologized as you grabbed a glass of water and nearly cried when you told her the story of your evening. And though you wanted to hear about her airport nightmare, you needed to sleep. 
You got settled in bed and realized- you missed Bucky already. 
And just as you decided to go to sleep for the night, your phone buzzed:
“Wanted to call but figured it might be too soon- seeing as it’s only been about four minutes. I’ll call you in the morning. And just so you know: even without the tap dancing, I found you very entertaining. I’m really glad I met you.
If you need anything at all, let me know. Feel better.
-JBB”
—————————————
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enchantedbarnes · 1 year
Text
Uncle Buck Returns
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Single Aunt!Reader
Summary: Our little menace of a nephew has secured a date for you. Here is part 2 to Uncle Buck.
Word Count: 1401
Masterlist: One | Two | Three | Four | Five
A/N: what in the actual f👀 is going on 😅 I was expecting maybe 10 or so people to read Uncle Buck. My notifications haven't stopped going off since I posted. Thank you so much everyone that read it and enjoyed it. I hope you also enjoy this little continuation. P.S. GIF replies are my love language so if you enjoy send me your best (or worst 😈) 🫶
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As soon as the pair returned home and walked through the front door, Benji skipped his way in shouting, "MAWWAGE! MAWWAGE IS WHAT BWINGS US TOGEVAH TODAYYYY!" Arms high above him as he rushes through the living room in search of his parents.
"Benji, please don't make me regret letting you watch my favorite movie," you sigh, flopping onto the couch, hands covering your face.
He stopped short and looked back at you, "Have you the wing?" He bowed and giggled then turned back around to continue on with his search.
"You're back!" Your sister shouted while she snatched Benji up into her arms, covering the small boy in kisses. "Did you have so much fun with Auntie today? Why are we shouting Princess Bride quotes?" She gasps, "Did you get to meet the dread pirate Roberts??"
Benji looks up at her in confusion, "What? No Mom, we saw Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson! And guess WHAT!"
"Ohhh, what?!"
He whispers into her ear and throws his head back laughing like a tiny evil madman.
"You did what???!" She laughs.
You groan from the couch.
She walks both of them over to you.
"Did I understand him correctly, is there something we should know? Are you betrothed to a super soldier?"
"I'm gonna go throw up," you groaned again.
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Sweating doesn't even begin to cover it.
Your entire body feels like it's on fire.
You agreed to meet Bucky for a late lunch the following day. You've been sitting on the floor by your closet for what you thought was 30 minutes now, staring into the clothing abyss, spiraling into an internal panic.
You don't go on dates. You keep to yourself. It's comfortable. Living in a combined household with your sister and her small family you're certainly never alone.
What are you even supposed to talk about?
Your current job is nothing super exciting to talk about. You do like to go to concerts and musicals... However you can't really imagine the 106-year-old super soldier going to a pop punk or metal show, nor do you imagine him attending Wicked 3 times. Note to self: do not bring up Rogers the musical. Yikes.
Your sister has already talked you off a ledge 3 times since last night when you got home.
While still wallowing in self pity and loathing, two outfits are scattered by you and you have three more in your arms.
Your sister walks by your open door and backtracks peering in.
"Y/n," she sighs, "just wear the first outfit. You'll look great, I promise." She walks over and grabs the armful of clothes from you, dumping them on the bed and grabbing the first outfit. Your favorite pair of black jeans and a sweater you bought specifically because it was so damn soft.
The doorbell rings and your eyes widen. "He's early?!"
"He's on time, you would have noticed if you weren't staring into space for the last hour."
"WHAT?!"
"Don't worry we'll keep him distracted while you finish getting ready."
"Oh sure, don't worry. That fills me with all the confidence..."
"Benji has already asked him to marry you, what's the worst that could happen now?"
"I don't even want to think about the answer to that. So many possibilities come to mind."
You grab your outfit and start rushing around.
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"Can I get you something to drink, Bucky?" Your sister asks while she moves about the room.
Bucky and Benji are seated at the kitchen table, just off from the living room. Benji is across from him with his tiny arms crossed on the table, and a very serious look on his face.
"I'm fine, thanks."
"Ok, I'm sure she'll be down in just a moment. Make yourself at home. Hopefully we will see you around again soon," she smiles, "I'm just gonna go switch the laundry over quickly. Benji," she looks down at him while pointing two fingers at her eyes and then over to him, "behave yourself," she warns while leaving the room.
The table stare down continues.
"Where do you live?" Benji asks.
"In the city," Bucky answers.
"You have a house?" Benji fires back.
"Apartment."
"Own or rent?"
"Rent."
"Where’s your office?"
"I don’t have one."
"How come?"
"I don’t need one."
"Where’s your wife?"
"Don’t have one.."
"Yet," Benji squints with a tiny smirk, "but how come?"
"It's a long story."
"You have kids?"
"No I don’t."
"How come?"
"It's an even longer story."
"Do you prefer dogs or cats?"
"Both are fine."
"Do you have one?"
"I have a cat. Names Alpine."
"Is Steve Rogers really on the moon?"
"What's your record for consecutive questions asked?"
"38."
"He's up there all right." Bucky answers with a nod.
"Your metal arm and regular arm match well with how ginormous your muscles are."
"How nice of you to notice."
"I’m a kid, that’s my job."
Bucky raises a brow, "Why am I getting the 3rd degree here?"
"Just checking in on my investments. If this didn't work I was going to ask our neighbor Frank, but he kind of sucks," Benji shrugs his shoulders.
Before Bucky can question the language and what the 8-year-old said, you walk into the kitchen and quickly look back and forth between the two of them.
"Oh no, how long have you two been alone in here?? What did he say?" You ask Bucky, looking over at Benji quickly after, "What did you say??" Your eyes narrow.
Benji grins and holds your purse up for you. "Have fun storming the castle," he cheekily smiles with that glint in his eyes.
"Benji," you glare down at him.
Bucky clears his throat while standing up from the table. Walking over to you he points to a small bouquet of flowers that were already in a vase waiting on the kitchen table, "Um, these are for you…" he smiles.
"Thank you so much, they're beautiful," your reply is breathless while you look at the arrangement filled with a small mix of your favorites.
"He also gave me this," Benji holds up an RC truck with a Captain America shield painted on the side.
"That was very nice of him, did you say thank you?"
"Duh," he rolled his eyes while grabbing the remote to the car and rolling it out to the living room, "Thanks Future-Uncle Bucky," he grins and chases after it.
"Anyone ever tell you guys he's kind of a strange kid?" Bucky whispers conspiratorially while offering his arm to you.
You throw your head back with a quick laugh. "Oh, you have no idea."
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Your date is going better than you expected.
You have managed to not make a complete fool out of yourself so far and both of you seemed to be enjoying your time together.
You have apologized multiple times for Benji's antics.
Bucky laughed, "He reminds me a bit of a young Steve and my sister Rebecca combined. Didn't realize that combo was possible, it's a little terrifying. I hope they have great medical insurance," he jokes.
"His father's a nurse, so we have in-house medical on demand. My sister tried to convince me to go to law school so someone can represent him when he undoubtedly tries to take over the world. Guess I can save some money and time on law school now that we have a super soldier plus a Captain America connection that can potentially stop him before lawyers need to be involved."
"Your sister already welcomed me to the family when she opened the door to let me in," he smirks.
You put your face in your hands, elbows leaning against the table in support.
"Well now you know where her small menace gets it from."
Bucky helps pull your chair out for you as you're both about to leave. As you stand up your purse falls off the back of your chair, spilling some of its contents on the floor when it lands.
Bucky ducked down to help collect your things when something shiny appeared next to your chapstick. His eyebrows furrow as he picks both up and holds them up to you.
You let out a slightly strangled cough as you realized what he was holding up to you.
Bucky Barnes was kneeling holding up your peppermint chapstick and your Grandmother's opal ring that was supposed to be safely in your jewelry box at home.
...Benjamin!
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@pono-pura-vida @bitchy-bi-trash @random-writer-23 @jvanilly @clintsupremacy @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction
Next: Part 3 Lord of the Pins
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