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eva-knits12 · 4 months

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Christmas with Steve

Trigger warning: Christmas, Steve Rogers, fibromyalgia, fluff

Summary: You and Steve spend your first Christmas as a newlywed couple.

Steve rolls over on his back. His eyes are open, and he has a smile on his face. You have finally gone back to sleep after finding another comfortable position after you've gotten up to pee for what seems like the 100th time that night because James was sitting on your bladder. James had finally settled down inside you. Steve gets up, pulls the covers over you, lets you sleep, and kisses your cheek.

Steve went to church last night, and when he got home, he saw you sleeping in the recliner. He got you to bed, and picked you up, and carried you bridal style to the bedroom. Your seven-and-a-half month pregnant belly didn't stop him.

He gathers his clothes for the day, which is black dress pants, a white button down, and a blue cardigan. He goes to the kitchen, turns on the coffee maker, and then goes to brush his teeth and shower.

He turns on the lights to the tree, and turns on A Christmas Story. When the coffee maker is done, Steve pours his first cup of the day. He turns on a smaller pot so that you can have some decaf.

You wake up, and call for Steve. Steve helps you out of bed, since you are now seven-and-half months along right now. Steve helps you help, gathers your maternity clothes for the day, which is leggings, slippers, a maternity dress, and a cardigan. Steve won't let you do anything, lift anything, or even go anywhere without his assistance.

"Merry Christmas, doll." says Steve.

"Merry Christmas, Captain Handsome", you say.

You and Steve kiss each other lovingly. You two are newlyweds after all. Steve gives you a cup of decaf the way you like it, and you take your first sip. Steve also fixes you some toast, so you can have something in your stomach.

"Merry Christmas, James. Be good to mama," says Steve, talking to your pregnant belly, and James kicks. Steve kisses your belly where James kicked. Whenever Steve was around, and James would kick, Steve always kissed your belly where James kicked.

You and Steve conceived James on your honeymoon. You and Steve went to Rome for your honeymoon earlier this year, way back in the spring. You found out you were pregnant around Steve's birthday, thanks to Tony rushing you to the medical bay after you threw up for what seemed to be the twentieth time that day and Tony found you passed out. Steve's serum and altered DNA intensified your symptoms. You also had hyperemesis gravidarum, which was the morning sickness from hell.

You revealed that you were pregnant to Steve on his birthday. Steve fell in love with you even more. You remember his words when you were telling Steve about your abusive ex.

"Doll, if you got pregnant tomorrow, I would love that. I love you so much, that you having the most beautiful and purest thing in the world as a result of our love would make me fall in love with you even more," said Steve.

Steve meant every word of that. You were carrying his child, and you couldn't have felt more feminine and beautiful right now.

Steve helps you into the shower, and helps you strip down. You go to shave your legs, and Steve helps you with that. He would anything in the world for his pregnant wife right now. After, Steve dries you off, and then applies your body lotion and cocoa butter on your pregnant belly. James decided to start doing his Pele impersonation, and once James got going, he would be kicking for a few hours. James was already a ball of energy. James loved to be active first thing in the morning.

"Good morning, James," you say, as you start to rub your belly.

"Good morning, sport," says Steve, kissing your belly where James kicked. Steve puts his hand on your pregnant belly, and feels James kick. He kisses your pregnant belly again.

You're lying on the bed, naked, and Steve is drawing you. Every day, Steve draws you naked, and then dates the drawing. You have a big red bow on your belly, and you also have a small chalkboard that says the stats of the day. What's written on the chalkboard gets written on the drawing. He plans on giving you this sketchbook after James is born. James is due in February, and he's due on Valentine's day. This time, your lying on your side, your right hand is on your belly, and your looking at Steve. Steve is sitting in the armchair, just drawing you, and snow is falling out the window. The snow sets the mood.

Steve helps you get dressed, and then helps you to the living room. He sits you in the recliner, puts up the footrest, kisses your forehead, and covers you with a blanket. You're watching A Christmas Story, and knitting a sweater for James. Steve is in the kitchen fixing you both some breakfast. He's making you both some eggs, bacon, and toast. He looks over to check on you every once in a while, and he smiles. There's a fire in the background, the tree is standing in the corner, and the gifts are sitting underneath the tree. Your and Steve's stockings are full, and are hanging on the mantle over the fireplace. You'll open your presents and go through your stockings after breakfast.

Breakfast is ready, and Steve helps you up from the recliner. He pulls out your chair, and helps you sit down at the table. He pulls your chair back in, and gives you your plate.

"Steve, this is amazing," you say.

"Thanks, doll," says Steve.

You and Steve eat your breakfast, and then Steve helps you back to the living room. Steve cleans up, and loads the dishwasher.

You're settled into the recliner, and A Christmas Story is playing in the background. The fire is going, and is bringing a cozy feel to the living room. Steve hands you your stocking, and you go through it. You got a pair of simple gold hoops, a nice watch, and a silver locket with a picture of James's first ultrasound inside. You also get some chocolate, a chocolate orange, and some oranges with cloves in them.

Steve got a lovely watch, some oranges with cloves, some warm socks, and you even got him a nice signet ring that has his initials on it.

You then open your gifts. Steve got you some really cozy PJ's, some nice slippers that you'll wear at the hospital after you give birth to James, a warm cardigan to wear when you come home with James. He even got you a nice, blanket.

Steve got a nice handknit sweater, a nice tie, a crisp white and blue dress shirt. and a nice handknit cardigan.

"Doll, I love it. I love you so much," says Steve. Steve gives you another loving kiss.

Steve helps you back into the recliner, and covers you with a blanket. You knit for a bit, then you yawn. You start to fall asleep, and Steve sees. He kisses your forehead, and turns the TV to low. Steve reads his book while you nap.

After a while, Steve kisses your forehead again, and decides to prepare some beef barley soup and some bread for lunch. You and Steve eat the soup.

Dinner is turkey with all the trimmings. You went to Tony's party a few days before, but Bucky and Nat are coming, and they would bring some wine. You would all be having dinner, and Steve prepared it. He wanted you to be off your feet as much as possible.

Bucky and Steve talk about the good old days, and Nat and you are talking.

"Nat, I can't wait until James is here," you say, rubbing your belly.

"Yeah, it will be his first Christmas. I just hope Tony doesn't try to overshadow it," says Nat.

"Let's worry about it next year," you say.

"Steve, I never thought you'd be the guy to marry and have a kid. You were always the skinny, sickly guy from Brooklyn," says Bucky.

"Remember the Christmas I got sick again that year," says Steve.

"Yeah, you just couldn't shake that cold," says Bucky.

"Wait, Captain used to get sick?" asks Sam.

"He got sick all the time," says Bucky.

"Wait, are they talking about Steve being sick again?" says Nat.

"Yeah, it was nothing like my first Christmas with Steve," you say.

"I wanted it to be perfect. I really did. Only, I caught a bad cold that turned into a nasty flu. I just couldn't shake it. Eventually, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia," you say.

"Look, Steve loves you. He had so much chronic illnesses before the serum. He only sees you," says Nat.

"The doctor says that the flu helped the fibromyalgia diagnosis, otherwise, my symptoms never would have manifested themselves the way they did," you say.

Steve hears this, and he smiles. When you were in the hospital for a few days after, he refused to leave your side. He would draw, read his book, and keep you entertained while you were chained to the machine taking your vitals.

Steve would bring you flowers every day. He would bring you your favorite chocolate covered strawberries and you favorite chocolate truffles. He helped you shower when you were in the hospital. The doctor diagnosed with fibromyalgia, and she considered this flu that you had at the time lucky. You thought it was strange, but in your case, it helped with the proper diagnosis. You were also diagnosed with chronic anemia, and that was a diagnosis that could easily be solved with diet and supplements.

You, Steve, Bucky and Nat all exchange gifts. Bucky gets James a bear that looks like Captain America.

"James can take all the stupid with him," says Bucky.

Bucky and Nat got you and Steve a nice picture of you and Steve at your wedding. It's your first dance as a married couple, and you and Steve are staring at each other lovingly.

It's in a really pretty gold frame, that has a pair of bells on it with a ribbon. Your and Steve's wedding date is engraved on it.

You got Natasha some lovely gold earrings with a matching gold chain. For Bucky, you got him a nice camera.

You look at the engagement ring on Natasha's finger, and you hug and congratulate Natasha. It's a nice marquise diamond in a nice, yellow gold setting.

Steve also congratulates Bucky. You guys don't have any champagne, but that's okay. You can't drink because of the baby.

Steve makes some hot chocolate for everyone. You all are drinking hot cocoa in front of the fire, and are just having an amazing time talking.

Eventually, Bucky and Nat leave. You and Steve put on your PJ's, brush your teeth, and watch another movie. Eventually, you fall asleep, and Steve puts out the fire. He waits until it's out completely, and then he helps you to bed. He pulls the covers over you, kisses your forehead, and then says good night to James, and kisses your belly. Tomorrow, it will just be you and Steve, and Steve will do the laundry tomorrow.

You and Steve slow dance in the bedroom for a while. Steve gives you a loving kiss as you two are slow dancing in the bedroom with Christmas music playing in the background. Steve and you found love and happiness in each other.

You snuggle next to Steve and you're sleeping on his chest until you have to wake up and pee for what will be the first time that night because James has made a habit of sitting on your bladder.

#steve rogers #christmas #a christmas story #natasha romanov #bucky barnes #steve and bucky #chronic illness #fibromyalgia #pregnancy #breakfast #lunch #dinner #fireside snuggles #knitting #knitting project

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lillywillow · 2 years

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World’s Greatest Grandma

Summary: Knitting is a passionate hobby of yours; one that Bucky finds fascinating to watch

Written for: @buckybarnesbingo

Words: 1077

Square Filled: C5- Knitting

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: None

Knitting was something you found very calming. A lot of people thought it was strange that you like doing something that was deemed ‘an old lady’ thing but you didn’t care. You didn’t have to please anyone else but yourself. Once a week, you would go down to the ladies as a part of your knitting group and have a nice chat while you worked on your projects. You had come a long way from doing simple squares and gone onto knit more complicated items such as sweaters, scarves and dolls. You also liked to give these items out as gifts to family and friends. When Bucky saw you knitting for the first time, he was completely fascinated. He would watch the way the yarn would go from the ball, onto the needle and weave into whatever pattern you were making.

…

One afternoon, you were working a project when you could feel a pair of eyes on you. You knew they had to belong to Bucky as he was the only one who would stare intently at you while you were knitting.

“Bucky,” you softly called, not taking your eyes off your row.

Bucky jumped and became all flustered.

“S-Sorry. Was I staring? I’ll just go…”

“It’s okay. I was wondering if you would like to learn how to knit?” you replied, finishing up the row you were on.

“Like you? I don’t know… I don’t think I would to all those fancy designs or anything like that plus I’m scared I’d break your sticks and…”

“Bucky, it’s okay. It took me a long time to get to the level that I currently am. Everyone starts somewhere. Besides, I have a pair of needles that I think could handle your metal grip,” you softly smiled.

“Well… okay…”

You gently sat Bucky down next to you and fished out a pair of metal knitting needles out of your bag.

“Pick one,” you instructed, showing him the different balls of yarn you had in your collection.

Bucky looked at all the different colours. Some were just plain and one shade, others were rainbow dyed, changing and merging into each other on the string and some were bright and neon. Bucky ended up choosing a nice maroon one that had a silver thread running through it.

“First, I’ll cast on for you, okay?” you explained.

Bucky nodded and watched as you wound the yarn onto the first needle, slowly using the second to form what would be the base of this… whatever it was going to become.

“There. Now to teach you how to knit…”

Bucky listened to you and followed your instructions just the way you taught him. He was a little clumsy but that was perfectly fine for a beginner. When you thought he had gotten the hang of it, you picked up your own project and continued working on it.

“So… What made you decide to do knitting?” Bucky asked after a while.

“I know it sounds cliché but it’s something my nana taught me,” you replied, smiling fondly at the memory.

Bucky listened to you as you told him stories about your grandmother and all the things she taught you. He enjoyed seeing you so relaxed and happy and the way your face lit up as you shared your memories. Bucky liked moment like this; when it was just the pair of you and nothing else going on. He became so invested, he failed to notice when he dropped a stitch but when he did, he panicked a little. Instead of chastising him, you gently took the work from him and fixed it.

“You’re really good at that,” Bucky mumbled, admiring your work and feeling embarrassed at the same time.

“Don’t feel bad about it, Bucky. Every beginner drops a stitch from time to time. I still do and I’ve been doing it for a long time,” you reassured him.

Bucky felt a little better.

“You should come to my knitting group,” you smiled.

“Your knitting group?”

“Yeah. It’s just a few people. We chat, knit or crochet and just have fun. I think you’d like it…”

Bucky thought for a moment. He did want to start getting more involved in the community and going with you to this group might be a step in the right direction.

“I think so too,” he smiled.

…

A few days later, you went to the nearby community centre with Bucky. You smiled as you introduced him while he stood there awkwardly. The ladies of your group greeted Bucky and encouraged him to sit. After a while, Bucky started to get a little more comfortable with himself and listened to the group talk. Thet spoke about their kids and grandkids, dating, and other things going on in their lives. When he started to feel like someone was watching him, he turned to see a little old lady, whom he identified from the others as Estelle, staring at him.

“Can I help you?” Bucky asked.

“You two boinkin’ yet?” she bluntly quizzed. Bucky became all flustered.

“Ma, you can’t just ask that!” Estelle’s daughter Bea scolded.

“What? I’m 80 years old. How many more years have I got? Besides, you’ve heard the way Y/N goes on about this guy. ‘Bucky’s so handsome, he’s so charming…’ I now see those stories aren’t exaggerated,” Estelle casually shrugged.

Now it was your turn to be mortified.

“You… really say those things about me?” Bucky asked with a blush.

“Well, you’re someone important in my life… and… I like you a lot,” you muttered, feeling heat flood your face.

“You two should go on a date,” Estelle insisted.

The pair of you looked at each other.

“How about after this, we go out to lunch?” Bucky suggested.

“I’d love that,” you smiled.

The two of you got your fair share of playful teasing for the rest of the time there but you didn’t mind. After the group packed up, you and Bucky went out to eat just like you said you would. In the end, you were glad your mutual love of your favourite hobby brought you together. You still had your team members calling you a grandma, but with Bucky by your side, you felt like the world’s greatest grandma.

#buckybarnesbingo2022 #bbb2022 #bingo fill #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #friends to lovers #World's Greatest Grandma #Knitting #C5 #Old Ladies #Wool #Yarn #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel one shot #marvel fic

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ibelieveinturtles · 9 months

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DLBHQ Weekly Challenge, Athletic Week

Title: Daily Exercise Squares Filled: DLBHQ Weekly Challenge, Athletic Week Bucky Barnes Bingo (B038): C4, Therapy Author: ibelieveinturtles Fandom: MCU Pairing: Darcy lewis/Bucky Barnes Rating: G Tags/Warnings: knitting Summary: Bucky’s not so sure about what Darcy calls exercise. Word Count: 378 —

“Whatchya doin’?” Darcy looked up from the mound of yarn in her lap and grinned at Bucky. “It’s my daily exercise,” she said, making a slipknot in the yarn and slipping the loop onto a needle. “That doesn’t look like exercise to me,” Bucky said, perching on the edge of an adjacent chair. “It looks like knitting.” “Well, if you know what it is, why did you ask?” Looping the yarn around her fingers, she picked up her needles and began to cast on. “Anyway, knitting uses thirty two different muscles, so if I say it counts as exercise, then it counts as exercise.” “It’s not exercise,” Bucky disagreed, leaning back slightly. “Exercise is meant to get your heart rate up, burn calories. Improve heart and lung function.” “It’s also meant to promote mental wellbeing, which knitting does by helping to reduce stress and anxiety. Also, it promotes memory and a heap of other stuff too. My therapist suggested it. You should try it.” “Reduces stress, huh?” “Most of the time,” Darcy amended, pausing to count her stitches. “Sometimes, not so much. It depends on how tricky the pattern is.” “My therapist never suggests anything like that,” Bucky said morosely. “Get a new therapist then,” Darcy suggested. Bucky nodded, watching as she turned the needles and began to knit back along the row of new stitches. “So what’s that gonna be?” Bucky asked. “I haven’t decided yet. This is just a tension square.” She glanced at the large ball of variegated yarn then looked at Bucky. “What do you think I should make with it? I’ve got like, a mile of this stuff.” Bucky shifted for a better view. “That’s a lotta different colours for one ball of yarn.” “It’ll knit up stripey. Maybe a scarf? Or a nice light spring cardigan?” “Whatever you choose, I’m sure it’ll be great.” She grinned at him again. “I’ve got spare needles if you want to try it.” Bucky rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know how it’ll go with the plates in my hand,” he said, peering at the offending limb critically. Darcy glanced at his hand, then shrugged. “You’ve got gloves, right?” “Yeah, I do.” He nodded thoughtfully, then more firmly. “Hell, why not. I’ll give it a go.”

@darcylewisbingohq @buckybarnesbingo

#darcy lewis #bucky barnes #dlbhq #bbb23 #knitting #therapy

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astaraiches-oisinn · 2 years

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New fill for the SRBingo event! I let my craft nerdiness show in this one a little bit XD

#my writing #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #bingo fill #knitting #quilting

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greenhedgie · 2 years

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A round of applause everyone. I actually finished something!

#the falcon and the winter soldier #knitting #knitblr #bucky barnes #diy #sebastian stan #winter soldier #knitted hats #slochy beanie

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therulingqueen · 1 month

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In my quest to craft things Marvel: socks in yarn dyed in Bucky’s honor.

#bucky barnes #sergeant james buchanan barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #fan crafts #knitters of tumblr #hand knit #knit knit knit #Bucky used to knit #invictus yarns

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sketchraptor · 4 months

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IdonthavethepatienceforchrochetIdonthavethepatienceforchrochetIdonthavethepatienceforchrochetIdonthavethepatienceforchrochetIdonthavethepatienceforchrochetIdonthavethepatienceforchrochet

#but GOD do I want to knit my own sweaters #like— one that’s black but one sleeve is gray with a red star for Bucky?#green black and yellow pattern

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 3 months

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(18+) fem!reader

bucky barnes is the kind of guy to fuck up into you during cowgirl, not because he's impatient, but because he simply wants to feel more of you.

just him lying back down on the mattress, you straddling his crotch, cock snuggly wedged into you - his hands digging into the plush of your thighs. he'd have to restrain himself, the squish of your skin pooling around his fingers being the main distraction. he'd look up at you as you slowly wind over him, brows knitted, eyes closed, lips bitten, tits swaying - the lewdest of images as you gently bounce.

your hands placed firmly on his stomach isn't enough. he wants to feel you closer - he wants your chest sandwiched against his, wants his lips on yours. his cock inside of you, not enough to satiate the need.

he'd trail his hands up you higher, gliding up your tummy, over your tits, right up to your throat. he wouldn't squeeze, no. just lightly pulling you down to him, silently guiding you to hover over him. your weight anchored on your hands either side of him.

bucky would stabilise you, keeping you balanced - one hand on the curve of your hip, the other along your jaw, lips hungrily working over yours. he'd swallow your gentle moans, your soft, sweet whines vibrating against his tongue.

he'd bend at the knee and testingly nudge up into you, cock bumping into your pussy so nicely. the new angle ripping the most bliss-filled cry from the pits of your stomach. he'd smile against your lips, doing it again. and again. just to hear that same sultry noise from you.

he would part from your lips, trailing kisses along your collarbone until he reaches your tits, leaving a line of soft, wet suckles behind. he'd wrap his lips around your perk nipples, tongue leisurely flicking over the bundle of sensitive nerves. dick stroking up into you unrushed.

his hands would leave the placement around your mid back, instead moving downwards - one metal, one fleshed hand slowly dragging over your skin. bucky's hands would rest on the dips of your waist, guiding you over his cock with very little manoeuvring, gently pushing your hips down onto him. the slow roll of his hips meeting you in the middle.

lips back on yours, muffling loving words into your skin. telling you that you're his sweet, special girl.

#BRAINROT GOING CRAZY RN #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky smut

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heytheredelulu · 12 days

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Little Bookworm 18+

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Content Warnings: unprotected sex (p-in-v), rough sex, dirty talk, size kink, dubcon kink (as long as Bucky can keep a straight face), tummy bulge, language, a good ole coochie slap (once), cum play, a little fluff, some aftercare

Your boyfriend can’t think of anything more adorable than watching you read. One night while you’re in the shower he picks up the book you left on the nightstand: “Haunting Adeline by H.D. Carlton” and thumbs through it, very quickly realizing just what kind of books his sweet little bookworm is really into.

Inspired by my IRL husband’s reaction to my smutty reads.

Note: I don’t own any characters or works referenced in this oneshot and shout out to H.D. Carlton for creating Zade Meadows and giving us the house of mirrors chapter that’s been living rent free in both me and @lilacka’s head for over a year.

Bucky absolutely loved to watch you read.

The subtle way your expressions changed as your eyes would glide across the pages made his heart swell with admiration.

He found himself entranced with your concentration, your eyebrows knitting together in thought, your lips quirking up into a smile and even the soft laughter that would sometimes escape you as you delved deep into the world you held in your hands.

He was always more than happy to accompany you to the bookstore, leaning against the shelves and observing you as you thumbed through new titles, stacking your choices in his strong arms before darting down the next aisle to browse further.

He looked forward to the evenings where he could lay his head comfortably in your lap, his arm draped across your thighs as you worked your fingers lazily through his hair while you read quietly above him.

Tonight he lay in bed with his hands folded behind his head, listening to the gentle sound of the shower from the bathroom as you bathed when his gaze fell on your most recent read on the nightstand. The cover was dark with a skull and roses, something about a ‘Haunting’ and an absurd amount of sticky notes jutted out from the pages. His curiosity overtook him and he sat up, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. He thumbed through it carefully before letting it fall open to one of the tagged pages, his eyes scanning the text and widening slightly at the content.

He flipped to another tab, quickly reading through the passage, his breath quickening as he took in the words.

“If I catch you, I fuck you.”

Jesus Christ.

The bathroom door creaked open and he slowly lifted his gaze up to you.

Your damp body wrapped in a towel with your wet hair against your neck and shoulders did absolutely nothing to combat the heat that was already rising within him at what he’d just read.

Your eyes connect for a beat before you glance down to notice the book in his hand, opened to one of your tagged pages.

It was hard to discern if the flush across your cheeks was remnant of the heat of the shower or from the slight embarrassment of feeling caught by your boyfriend discovering the absolute filth you’d been reading.

He raises a brow at you, lifting the book and tapping on the open passage.

“If I catch you, I fuck you?” He asks, tilting his head curiously. “Really?”

You huff and roll your eyes, stepping forward and reaching to snatch the book from his hands but he’s quicker, snapping it shut and holding it just out of your reach.

“No, no. We’re gonna talk about this, doll.” He says, his lips curling into a smirk. “This is what you’ve been reading?”

You shift from foot to foot.

“Sometimes.” You reply with a weak shrug.

He turns the book over in his hands again and idly runs his palm back and forth against all the flags poking out from between the pages. “And do you.. like this stuff?” He asks, not looking up. “Does it turn you on?”

You swallow hard and nod despite the fact he’s not looking at you.

“Sometimes.” You repeat quietly.

“Huh.”

He purses his lips and nods thoughtfully, standing up and tossing the book onto the bed. “I guess you oughta run then.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hair line.

Did he just?

Is he going to?

“W-what?” You stutter out, taking a small step back as he closes in on you.

He tsks and reaches out, brushing your wet hair back off your shoulder with two fingers. “You heard me, baby.”

You open your mouth to reply but the words are lost the moment he seizes the edge of your towel in his large hand.

Your eyes connect for a brief moment before he yanks the towel free of your body and discards it on the ground, leaving you exposed, confused and incredibly aroused.

His hand settles on your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple and sending a rush of desire straight to your core. He dips his head to nuzzle his forehead against your temple, his tongue flicking against your earlobe.

“You should probably run now.” He warns in a whisper, taking a step back to give you space for a head start.

You stare wide eyed in disbelief, your head barely able to wrap around what was happening.

“Five.” He says in a threatening tone, bringing his hand down to palm his growing erection under his sweatpants.

You’re frozen to the spot.

There’s no fucking way he’s about to do this.

“Four.”

Okay, maybe he is.

You take off at a run, reaching the bedroom door and flinging it open with him hot on your tail.

Your bare feet pound against the hardwood floor and you rush down the hall towards the staircase, making it only two steps down before his strong arm catches you around the waist and picks you up effortlessly.

You wiggle against his hold, kicking your feet and thrashing.

“You’re not very fast, you know.” He teases, tightening his grip on you, his cock straining against his sweatpants and pressing into your backside.

He carries you back into the bedroom, his arm locked around you in a vice grip and tosses you onto the bed as if you were weightless. He tugs his sweatpants down and kicks them off, his cock bobbing with every step as he stalks towards you.

He braces his palms on the bed, preparing to climb up and pin you but you scramble backwards off the bed and take off again. He pauses, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Wait, what-?” he straightens up and turns, watching as you sprint across the room and he frowns, realizing you weren’t going to let him catch you that easily.

“Damnit.” He grumbles, launching himself up over the bed.

He chases you with heavy footsteps towards the bathroom and you rush to shut the door but his hand catches it and forces it open, leaving you completely cornered with nowhere else to turn. “Shit.” You breathe out, looking around for a possible way out. He laughs, a cute and genuine laugh that is just so Bucky, completely betraying the role he was attempting to play.

You cross your arms over your bare breasts and frown. “I’m sorry.” He says, shaking his head. “I- just.. why did you run into the bathroom?” He asks, gesturing around the small room with amusement. “I don’t know!” You huff, your lips pressing into a pout. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you definitely weren’t.” He agrees, swinging his foot back to kick the door shut behind him. “Guess you’re trapped, huh?”

You nod, letting your arms fall away from your breasts. “I guess I am.” You breathe out, your body thrumming with a mix of excitement and desire as your eyes trail down his toned body to land on his fully erect cock. He’s on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and tossing you to the ground.

You fall hard on your hands and knees onto the plush bath mat, barely able to steady yourself on all fours before he’s on your back, arm hooked around your waist and sinking his cock into your wet, throbbing cunt. You arch back into him, fingers digging into the bath mat and a choked gasp catches in your throat as he pulls you flush to his pelvis, burying himself to the hilt. He snakes his free hand up your abdomen towards your chest, a trail of goosebumps following in his wake, dipping his forehead down to rest against the back of your shoulder. He palms your breast roughly, rolling your peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Bucky..” You whisper, your head falling back.

His forearm tightens around your waist and he releases your nipple with a gentle tug, sliding his hand up to curl around your throat. You moan and wiggle your hips, desperate for him to move, but he holds you still, lifting you up with him as he leans back on his heels.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” He whispers, unhooking his arm from your waist and resting his large hand over the slight bulge in your abdomen. “That’s my cock.” He murmurs, squeezing your throat gently before grasping your jaw and tilting your chin down to look at how he’s stretching you. You whimper and he moves your hand to press down on the bulge of his cock in your belly. “And this is my pussy.” He growls, delivering a slap to your aching clit before he draws his hips back and begins to thrust himself up into you at a steady pace.

A string of soft curses falls from your lips and your head drops back against the crook of his neck, your hand leaving your abdomen and reaching backwards to fist in his hair. “I didn’t realize you were such a freak, baby.” He whispers, his hand tightening around your throat. “I shoulda thumbed through one of your little books sooner.”

His free hand kneads at the flesh of your thigh and he groans, his balls slapping against your ass as he fucks up into you. “I- I-“ You stutter, unable to think straight as your head grows dizzy with pleasure. “Oh no, am I fuckin’ my baby stupid?” He asks with a grin, bringing two fingers to tease at your bottom lip. You open on instinct and he slips them into your mouth, letting out a shaky breath as you suck and swirl your tongue around the digits.

“Fuck.” He hisses, pressing his slick fingers to your clit. You gasp, your fingers curling around his wrist as he strokes your sensitive bud, pulling you closer towards your impending orgasm.

“You gonna come, little bird?” He whispers, trying to reference your book and quickening his fingers against your clit. “It’s ‘little mouse’.” You correct, your lips quirking up into a smirk at his admirable attempt. “Whatever.” He hisses, pinching your clit between his fingers and sending a jolt of white-hot pleasure through your body. You choke out a strangled cry as you come, your legs trembling and back arching against him as your cunt clenches around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He grunts, shoving you forward to the floor and falling to his knees. You scramble forward, his cock slipping from your dripping hole as you try to steady yourself in the dizzying wake of your orgasm.

“Oh no, no you don’t.” He growls, grabbing your ankle and dragging you back towards him. You lose your balance and fall flat, your breasts smashed against the cold tile as he presses his weight down on you, running his cock back and forth along your folds before thrusting back into you. “T-too much!” You whine, squirming underneath him.

“Tell me to stop.” He grunts, knowing damn well you never would. He hooks his forearm under your waist again and angles your hips upward, taking you deeper than you even thought possible.

Choked sobs of euphoria escape your throat as your cheek rests against the floor, dragging back and forth across the tile from the force at which he’s fucking into you. Your limp body shakes uncontrollably as your pussy spasms and waves of ecstacy crash over you faster than you can count them. Your orgasms explode through you like a string of firecrackers as you curse and mumble incoherently.

He pulls out abruptly, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back, moving to straddle your chest while he frantically fucks his fist. He comes with a shout, gasping as he paints your face with ropes of hot, sticky cum. “Fuck.” He pants, looking down at you in admiration as he brushes his thumb along your cheek, gathering up his seed.

He pinches your flushed, sticky cheeks together with his free hand. “Open.” He says softly, slipping his thumb into your mouth when you do. You suckle his thumb, greedily cleaning it with a swirl of your tongue, looking up at him through half lidded eyes. He sighs contentedly before moving off you and rising to stand, reaching into the shower to turn on the water.

“And I had just showered.” You mumble as you take the hand he offers you and pull yourself up on wobbly knees. “Don’t you dare bitch about the water bill when it comes.” You tease.

He chuckles softly and pulls you into him, holding you against his chest with one strong arm while the other reaches out to test the temperature of the water. “I won’t.” He says, stepping in first and gently helping you in after him. He wraps his arms lovingly around you and rests his chin atop your head as the warm water cascades over you both.

“Let’s clean you up, doll. It’s late and we have plans in the morning.” He says quietly, his eyes slipping closed as his hand runs idly up and down your back. You lean back and look up at him with your brows furrowed in confusion. “We don’t have plans tomorrow.”

His eyes flutter open and he grins. “The hell we don’t.” He replies, reaching for the shampoo bottle and squeezing the contents into the palm of his hand. You open your mouth to protest when he doesn’t answer your question but he simply twirls a finger, gesturing for you to turn around.

You sigh, turning your back to him and he begins to lather the shampoo in your hair, gently massaging your scalp with his fingers. “So what’re these plans?” You ask quietly after a long moment of silently enjoying his hands tenderly working through your locks. He leans forward, his broad, wet chest pressing against your back and brings his mouth to hover beside your ear.

His breath sends a shiver down your spine as he lets out a low, breathy laugh and whispers, “I’m taking you to buy more books.”

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #avengers smut #marvel smut #smutty one shot #smutty fanfiction

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buckyalpine · 8 days

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Imagine reader high as a kite after a minor surgery or something, still coming down from the anesthesia. He's taken you home and set up camp in the living room, setting out an array of snacks for you, happy to take care of you in your loopy state. You watch him with complete heart eyes while he fusses about, getting you a blanket and fluffing pillows. He is swiftly interrupted when you suddenly grab his wrist and tug him to sit.

"Doll, is everything alri-"

"James"

"Yes?"

"Where are the others" You ask very seriously, looking deep into his eyes. You grab his face, squishing his cheeks into a pout while he cocks his head in confusion because who else were you looking for.

"James"

"Yes"

"The others"

"What are you talking about doll?" Bucky bites back a laugh when you huff, over his confusion.

"Jamessss"

"That's my name, baby" Bucky coos, letting the hamster in your brain trudge along while you knit your brows in confusion. He brings his hand to gently stroke your hair but you swat it away and hold his cheeks again.

"You just one Jame. A Jame. How can you be a James when there is just one of you. To be James there must me two. At least"

"Two of me?"

"Two of you. then Jamessss makes sense" You nod, flopping over and curling up in the sheet he'd tucked you in. "I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts" You mumble to yourself, staring a your crotch, already moving past the issue of Bucky being just one Jame.

"Darling, you don't have-

"Big ones, small ones, I'd like to give you some head"

"What"

"What" You blinked and Bucky blinked right back, the two of you unmoving until he heard your stomach grumble. He got up and grab a few of the fruit he'd cut up for you.

"She's a pervert even when she's high" Bucky sighed to himself, knowing you were staring at his ass based on the snickers you were trying to keep down as he bent over to get the plate.

"You've got a lovely bunch of coconuts"

"Doll-

"There they are, all hanging nice n' low"

"Doll-

"Big ones, full ones, Jame, take me to bed"

"What"

Also here are the original lines of that poor song I keep debauching

I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts There they are, all standing in a row Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 3 months

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← Smutlet masterlist

18+ Thigh Riding

He looked up at you, his head resting against the back of the couch. A teasing smirk flitted across his face as he watched you chasing your release. Bucky loved studying your features, staring intently. The way your mouth hung open, your brows practically knitted together from the effort you were putting in and your eyelids fluttering with your attempts to keep them open. Bucky loved that about you. You were always all in, including the short panting breaths that escaped from your swollen lips. Yes, he derived just as much pleasure seeing you come undone as you did experiencing it.

“You're so damn beautiful, Doll.”

You reveled in the way his large calloused hands felt on your hips, the way he held you, and subtly guided your movements as you pushed your uncovered core against his bare thigh. You loved how he bit down on his lip, struggling to contain his own arousal, so desperate to be inside of you.

“Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

Bucky moaned as his erection strained against his boxers. Oh, how he longed to press his palm against it, just to relieve some of the tension. No, today he was going to watch, watch you use his body to get yourself off. Then maybe, if you were feeling generous, you'd return the favor. He smiled. You were the most generous person he knew.

“Having fun there, Doll?”

You noticed how mesmerized he was by your peaked nipples, your blossomed breasts swaying up and down before his very eyes. A soft laugh slipped past your lips, his struggle of restraint amusing you as you watched his nostrils flare and his heavy breathing whistling through pursed lips.

“Mind if I have a taste?”

Ultimately, it's too much for Bucky, your beautiful bosom right there on display just for him. How could he not partake? How easy it was for him to lean forward and capture one of those perky beauties between his eager lips. His tongue rolled around your hard nipple with ease. You let him suck it as his hands caressed her twin. Cupping her, pinching her nipple between his vibranium fingers and kneading your flesh. Oh, how he loved the moans you saved, just for him.

“That's my girl, God, you feel so good in my mouth.”

Once you've given him a taste, he can't stop, yearning for more. You let him leave a trail of blazing kisses across your chest, teeth grazing your skin, open lips sucking bruises up towards your neck, marking you as his. You knew how much it turned him on, seeing his marks on your body, his possessiveness taking over. In turn, his covetousness drove you crazy, dialling up your desire to dangerous levels.

“You're mine, Doll. Got that? All mine.”

At this point, his hands are all over you, fingers and palm spread across your back, dragging over your silky skin. He skimmed over your waist only to find purchase on the curve of your ass where his fingertips dug in desperately, helping you along the path to nirvana. Encouraging you with lust dripping from his voice.

“Go on, Doll. You're doing so good. Just a little more."

By now, you're so lost in a haze that your movements are less than smooth, and you thank your lucky stars that Bucky has the sense to assist. Your juices are covering his thigh as you shamelessly drag your clit over his bulging quad. Over and over. You have his undivided focus now, he can tell how close you are to falling off the edge into the carnal abyss. He helped you out as pitiful moans left your lips and tired hips faltered slightly. He squeezed his quads, the muscle hardening under you, pushing against your sensitive little nub. Bucky whispered sweet words of praise and encouragement as you let go and cum on his thigh.

“That's right, Doll, you got this. How do you always look pretty, sweet girl? Keep going, just like that, darling. Only a little more, let it go. That's it, baby, well done.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #skittle's smutlets

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thepunkmuppet · 1 year

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THIS POST CONTAINS GOTG3 SPOILERS, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

so it was only through this movie that I realised how incredible nebula and rocket’s relationship really is, or rather could be if they had more screen time.

they have the exact same backstory. horrific and violent experiments were performed on them both by galactic assholes with god complexes, and obviously they have both been recovering and running from that their entire lives.

but also, their personalities are just super similar - closed off, rude, no-nonsense, angry, etc. and that means that they can relate to each other in the same way as each other. what I mean is, they have spent their lives suffering in silence, and are not the type of characters to have long heart to hearts and open up to those around them. but that’s okay, because they can suffer in silence together. they can wallow in their pain together. no words required, just pure understanding.

and the fact that they were the only main guardians left during the blip?? are we just going to overlook how close they would have gotten?? a close knit family unit reduced to two people?? literally the only people each other had left?? LIKE???

UGH and the fact that she gets him bucky’s arm for christmas. it was on a different planet. she had never celebrated or even heard of christmas before. but it was THAT important to her to give it to him?? and the looks on their faces!!?!? YES

and just that scene where nebula hears his voice again and just sobs. and mantis (a literal empath) looks at her and says to rocket, “we love you and we appreciate you and we are so happy you’re okay because you are our best friend.” because nebula, just like rocket, isn’t the kind of person who would feel able to say that herself. but actions and reactions speak more than words, and those tears spoke VOLUMES of the value nebula places in her friendship with rocket and it just makes me so feral

#gotg #guardians of the galaxy #guardians of the galaxy vol 3 #guardians of the galaxy volume 3 #gotg3 #gotg spoilers #gotg 3 spoilers #gotg vol 3 #nebula #rocket raccoon #jesus christ this post blew up ummmm hello marvel fandom back from the dead are we??

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buckybabesonly · 1 year

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Nothing Breaks Like A Heart

Summary: You finally confess your feelings to Bucky, hoping he might like you back. He turns you down.

Pairing: Bucky x Female!Avenger!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff

Warnings: Mentions of heavy drinking, no other significant warnings really without spoiling the plot 🤫

Word count: 6.5k

A/N: If you enjoyed this one, please do leave a comment / feedback / reblog! ❤️

Loving Bucky was like drinking honey. It was warm and comforting, sweet and overwhelming for your senses. You looked forward to seeing his face everyday and adored hearing him laugh, his whole face creasing when he doubled over at something funny you had said.

He had become an unlikely close ally since you joined the team. More than just a colleague. The time you’d spent together in the last year had been a defining period for you, as you had really grown to treasure his presence in your life.

God, the way this man made you feel. You didn’t think you’d ever be lucky enough to meet someone who would make you so happy.

It would be even better if you actually had the gall to tell him how you felt.

Being emotionally vulnerable was difficult. You wanted more, but it was scary. However, you recalled a piece of advice that one of your college professors had told you years ago, wise words which stuck with you. If you never try, the answer will always be no.

You had it set in your mind that you were going to tell him. You were, but maybe not today. You would wait for tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Your inner turmoil was frustrating. You fought androids and aliens and god knows what else, but you were afraid of this?

It could mess everything up, you reasoned. If he didn’t return your feelings, then you would make everything awkward, and maybe you would lose him even as a friend. You didn't know if you could handle that.

Despite this, a tiny hopeful voice in your head told you that Bucky felt the same about you. The way he always looked for a reason to spend time with you, how he shared his deepest secrets with you. The way you always partnered up on missions, and how you always had each other's backs. The way he comforted you when you were sad, allowing you to cry on his chest, soothing fingers stroking your hair.

When you first joined the team, he had been the first one to properly befriend you. Your first encounter was in the kitchen, where you had ended up in the middle of the night after being unable to sleep.

You were shocked to see Bucky propped up on a breakfast stool at the kitchen island, book in hand. You had waved nervously at him, going over to the fridge to get a carton of chocolate milk.

“Can’t sleep?” he grunted. You glanced to see what it was reading, seeing 'The Hobbit' embossed in gold letters across a hardback cover.

“Yeah,” you said softly, tugging down at the hem of your sleep shirt. You hadn’t exchanged many words with him at this point, but he seemed friendly enough. “You want a glass?”

He contemplated for a second before he nodded. “Sure.”

You ended up sitting opposite each other, glasses of chocolate milk in hand.

“How come you’re awake?”

Bucky smiled wryly. “I have trouble sleeping.”

“Nightmares?”

“Something like that.”

You hummed to yourself, taking a sip of the sweet beverage. There was something childish but comforting about chocolate milk - you always used to have it with your mom when you were small.

“How you feeling?” Bucky asked, breaking the silence. “Settling in?”

You nodded, the grip around your glass tightening. “Yeah, kind of. Everyone’s nice.”

Bucky seemed to know that you wanted to say more, silently promoting you with his eyes to continue.

“Everybody seems very tight knit - I guess that makes me a bit nervous? Trying to fit in.” You looked down, chewing on your lower lip. "I've always had a bit of trouble with that."

“I get you,” Bucky said, eyes still observing you. They were the color of cobalt - stunning. “Don’t worry. I think you’ll do just fine.”

That was the first meeting, and since then, you had only grown closer to him. Your mid-night conversations were a frequent occurrence. At least once or twice a week, you’d find each other in the kitchen at ungodly hours. Over time, you had introduced other activities to pass the time - board games, watching TV shows, fun idle gossip. Each time, you were always accompanied by chocolate milk.

“My mom died when I was six,” you had told Bucky during one of your late night rendezvous, half a year into your time with the team. “I don’t have many memories of her, but I remember that whenever I was sick or sad, she would have chocolate milk with me. It always cheered me up.”

You exchanged nuggets of information about each others pasts, and soon, you were sure that Bucky knew enough about you to write your biography. You felt surprisingly fine, opening up to him about anything and everything.

The seasons passed in a flash, and it was suddenly the one year anniversary of your joining the team. You found Bucky in the kitchen once again, at 3AM on a Thursday. You had a smile ready on your face, though your limbs ached. They were littered with bruises and cuts from your latest mission, but seeing him put a bounce in your step.

Bucky was staring down at his phone, the glow illuminating his face in the semi-darkness. It was chiming loudly with notifications, his expression unreadable.

“What’s that?” you asked, making your presence known.

Bucky already had a glass of milk out for you. He placed his phone down, grimacing.

“Sam got me doing this online dating thing,” he said casually. Your smile fell, unable to hide your surprise. “Modern dating is kind of crazy. Women are so much bolder than in the 40s."

Online dating? What?

“I didn’t know you started online dating,” you said, trying to keep your voice light. You didn’t even know Bucky was Iooking to date. You were deflated - any hopes that Bucky returned your crush were promptly dashed. You tried to swallow your disappointment.

“I wasn’t, really,” he said. “I guess it’s not the worst idea, though.”

Damn you, Sam Wilson, you thought.

“You meet women in real life all the time,” you said, taking your usual seat across him. “No one catch your interest?” You played nonchalantly with your fingers, trying not to pick your nails - a nervous habit.

Bucky pursed his lips, eyes landing on you for a moment before he looked at the ceiling.

“Ah, I don’t know.”

“You met anyone nice so far?” you probed, your jealousy spiking.

“Early days,” he responded. He slid his phone across the surface of the island, showing you the dating app he had open. The girls were plentiful, all beautiful and clearly enthusiastic. Bucky’s inbox was full of flirtatious greetings, but you noticed he hadn’t yet responded to a single one.

“Hmm.” You struggled to keep your face neutral. You felt the sinking realization that he must have never thought of you that way. Otherwise, why would he be looking for someone when you were right there?

You couldn't focus properly on the conversation anymore, your mind racing as Bucky moved the topic onto something unrelated.

Fantasising about Bucky had been dangerous. You had spent so much time imagining the day you would finally confess, and he would reciprocate your feelings and you would have the happy relationship you yearned for. Even if you didn’t confess first, you were hoping he would.

Up until now, you had sometimes told yourself that Bucky was just being patient. That he was old-fashioned, so he was taking his time in courting you.

You realized now that you were simply never considered an option.

The next few weeks were torturous. Christmas was fast-approaching, but you were far from being in the festive mood. You had to put on a front with Bucky now, pretend everything was alright and not feel too tempted to ask about the progress of his dating life. Things were tough, and you were feeling unhappier day by day.

You had always known, deep down, that your feelings for him were more than just a crush, and had been for many months. It ached, the feeling of knowing your emotions were not returned.

One horrible part of you wondered why. Were you not sexy enough? Not smart enough? Not charming enough?

Maybe all of the above.

Seeing Bucky nowadays made you ache. You found yourself feeling sad whenever he cracked jokes with you, shared his thoughts with you, when the backs of his hands brushed against yours as you walked side by side.

He would find someone that he actually wanted to be with, to do all that and more. It wasn’t his fault, and you knew he had no idea that you were in so much pain, that he had single handedly eviscerated you.

Tony's Christmas party was a perfect opportunity to drown your sorrows. So cliché. You knew it was a bad idea, but that didn't stop you knocking back drink after drink by the bar, ignoring Natasha's requests to dance. After all, if all the Hollywood rom-coms you had watched were any indication, this was one of the key steps to getting over a guy.

The party was kicking off, and the room was spinning like a ride at a fairground. Your alcohol tolerance had always been low, and now you were paying for your actions. Your skin was burning hot and prickling, and you were struggling to walk straight. Although, this was exactly what you wanted - it was somehow cathartic, purging you of all the pent of frustration inside.

A dark figure appeared in your eye line. Your vision refocused until you realized who it was - your favorite, handsome face was looking very annoyed right now, mouth set in a firm line.

“You’re drunk,” Bucky stated, his voice filled with annoyance.

“Duh.”

“I’m taking you back to your room,” he said, his hand latching around your bicep.

“No,” you said indignantly, jerking away. Your face blanched at the sudden movement. “I don’t feel well."

Bucky rolled his eyes, opting to steer you towards the balcony instead for some fresh air. He shut the French doors behind you, allowing the silent night air to consume you, isolating the two of you from the crowd.

“Sit,” he said, gently helping you down onto a wrought iron bench. “What were you thinking? You know you can’t drink.”

“I know.”

“Something wrong?” Bucky knew that the answer was yes - there was no other reason for you to be drinking unless you were upset or mad.

“I wanted to forget,” you croaked, leaning your head back to get a proper look at him. The sight of him devastated you. He looked so beautiful, so far out of your reach.

“Forget what?”

You stared up at the ink black sky, at the stars. The night air was cool against your burning skin. Everything was quiet, save the sound of his breathing in your ear as he leaned close to you. In that intoxicated moment, you thought you had nothing to lose, forgetting that Bucky was truly your everything.

“How much I love you,” you whispered, tilting your head to look at him through beseeching eyes.

Bucky sucked in a breath of air. His entire stance became rigid at your words. The way you stared at him imploringly confirmed that he hadn’t misheard.

“How long?” He was frowning even as you gave him a trembling, sad smile.

“A long time.”

He raised his hand as if he wanted to touch you, but settled it back down on his thigh. Your face crumpled at his obvious discomfort.

“I don’t know what to say,” he breathed.

Those words alone were enough to make your throat tighten and the needles in your chest multiply ten-fold.

“Tell me you feel the same way,” you said suddenly. It was a plead. You hated how desperate you were in this moment, but you needed him to know how you felt, and you needed to know whether you had a chance. Call it liquid courage, but you felt like you had nothing to lose when you grasped one of his calloused hands in yours.

Bucky was silent for a long time, staring at you with sadness and regret in his eyes. You hated how uncomfortable you must’ve been making him. God, what were you thinking, burdening him with your feelings and putting him in this position? You scolded yourself mentally, feeling nauseous.

Your hand was tight around his, your knuckles white. With every silent second that passed, your fingers loosened, falling limp. His hand was warm, yet you had never felt so cold.

He pulled his hand free, clenching it into a fist.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. Each word was a knife sinking into your chest. The realization hit you suddenly, thick and sour.

You felt bile rise in your throat. You stood up then, the floor shaking beneath you. You almost collapsed.

“Be careful - ”

“Oh god,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I need to go.”

You darted away with surprising speed, wrenching the doors open and hurrying back inside the room. You ignored the sounds of him calling you as you rushed through the crowd, trying to put one foot steadily in front of you and praying you wouldn’t fall.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

You held the tears in until you returned to your bedroom, slamming the door shut. You bolted into the en-suite and fell onto your knees in front of the toilet, the acid in your throat finally seeing the surface as you vomited.

Your stomach heaved, emptying yourself of all its contents. But you couldn’t get rid of the horrible, cloying feeling in your gut that came with Bucky’s rejection.

You fell asleep on the bathroom floor, tear tracks on your face and fresh wound in your heart.

You were dreading seeing him the next morning. Thankfully, you arrived in the conference room before he did. The others were there already, gathered around the table. Sam took one look at you and snickered. You were dressed in black, hair in disarray and a pair of large sunglasses on your face.

“Someone had a bit too much fun last night,” he sang.

You grimaced, closing your eyes at the way his voice boomed in your overly sensitive ears. “Stop shouting,” you croaked.

Bucky entered a few minutes later. You kept your head down, refusing to look at him or otherwise acknowledge his presence. To the others, your hostility could be passed off as a result of your clear hangover. But the excruciating humiliation of your confession to him hung between the two of you, making you squirm in your seat.

You didn’t speak for the rest of the meeting, keeping your sunglasses on and staring stoically at Steve as he delivered the mission briefing. As soon as he dismissed the team, you jogged out of the room, but was accosted by Bucky in the hallway.

“Can we talk?” he asked loudly.

You didn’t want to make a scene. You put a fake smile on.

“Sure.” Your eyes were still swollen behind your dark shades as you tried not to let the sight of him bring out any more tears.

He led you into an empty room a few doors down. His face was set like stone, only the slightest crease in his forehead hinting at something akin to distress.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” he said carefully.

“It’s okay.” You winced in discomfort, even just the sound of your own voice bringing you pain. You wondered if he had rehearsed a speech, to let you down easy.

“You should never drink that much again.” His voice was sharp, critical.

“I can take care of myself,” you said, taken aback by his tone.

“It’s not worth it,” he said, his attitude easing up. “I’m not worth it. I don’t want you to feel this way because of me."

You felt your shoulders sag. You felt so tired, defeated.

"I can't control the way I feel," you whispered.

Bucky kept a reasonable distance between the two of you, like he was afraid to go near you now that the pair of you were alone. You wished you could read his mind, know what he was thinking.

His next words were chilling. "You’re my friend, and I care a lot about you.”

The emphasis on the word ‘friend’ didn’t go unnoticed. The way he looked at you was orchestrated, pointed. He was letting you know, in no uncertain terms, what he wanted to say. You were almost grateful that he didn’t directly bring up how you had told him you loved him, as if to save you your last shred of dignity.

He stared at you now with such intensity, the meaning clear in the way he looked at you. We are just friends.

He was doing you a favour. Still, your heart shattered. Your hands were shaking. There it was again - that awful, stinging pain of rejection.

“Okay,” you said faintly.

“I'm sorry if I ever made you think that we could be anything more," he began. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes.

“Let’s not do this,” you interrupted. If he kept speaking, you felt like you might die. You wished the ground would swallow you up.

Bucky licked his lips but remained silent.

“Please..." You hated how your voice shook. "I would really appreciate it if we could just move on. Let’s not bring this up again. It would really help me.”

Bucky folded his arms tightly across his chest, nodding stiffly.

“Okay.”

You backed away from him, grateful your eyes were hidden. You left the room and didn’t look back.

You managed to act normal around Bucky. Well, semi-normal. The rest of the team didn't even seem to notice anything was amiss - you still spoke to Bucky, managed to look at him as if the very sight didn't break your heart, kept a smile on your face.

But that was in front of them. For anything else which wasn't out of necessity or mission-related, you avoided interacting with him. When you woke up in the middle of the night, you no longer plodded into the kitchen, instead staying in your bed, sobbing and staring at the ceiling.

You no longer laughed and joked with him. You turned your attention to the others instead, talking to Steve and Clint and Natasha and whoever else was there, in a desperate attempt to hide the fact that you were trying to keep it together. You wanted to keep your mind distracted.

It was horrible.

Things would not be the same again, at least not for a little while. You needed time to make yourself get over him.

It was easier, when Bucky returned to the compound one night with a blonde on his arm. She was giggling and clinging onto him, and your heart sank when they stumbled into the elevator just as you were making your way to your floor.

You couldn't have been more shocked at the sight of them. Bucky had red prints all over his cheeks, and her lipstick was smeared. The smell of alcohol was in the air.

"You're not supposed to have civilians in here," was the only thing you managed to say, shock infiltrating your system. The blonde giggled.

"Oops."

Bucky only shrugged, his hand slipping into hers as the elevator rose. Your heart clenched.

He was doing this on purpose. He wanted to show you that he had no interest in you, leave you without any doubts. You didn’t know that Bucky had it in him, to be so cruel. If you weren't trying to hold back your tears, you would've almost felt impressed by his antics. The worst thing was, you truly understood why he was doing this.

You think you may have hated him in that moment.

The elevator doors dinged open, and you stumbled out. Tears began prickling in your eyes, and you were sure Bucky could see.

You didn't say anything as you marched to your room, the elevator doors sliding shut.

You had always been good at pretending. Pretending you were happy when you weren't, pretending you were calm when you were furious, pretending you knew the answer when you didn't.

Bucky saw past a lot of that. He could tell when you were lying, could see when you were holding back. He read you like an open book.

He was important to you, and still would be even if he had rejected your confession and rubbed the presence of another girl in your face. You told yourself that it was a good thing - he was performing a service, encouraging you to move on. Besides, he didn't owe you a thing. He could do whatever he wanted with anyone else.

You couldn't lie convincingly to yourself.

Bucky's birthday rolled around all too quickly. You had it marked in your calendar, though you would've remembered even without the reminder.

Despite your conflicted feelings, you wanted to get him a gift. You had planned the perfect one months ago and had enlisted Bruce's help in finding it. You still wanted to see the look on his face when he opened it.

Bucky roamed the hallways on your floor the morning of his birthday, frowning slightly when your bedroom door opened, Bruce appearing in the frame. He caught a glimpse of where you were perched on your bed, face flushed in mild excitement.

Bucky gave Bruce a smile which may have looked more like a grimace, the latter giving him a polite nod before continuing on. Your door swung inwards, but Bucky stuck a hand between it and the frame, poking his head through.

"What's that all about?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

You shuffled something behind your back. You hadn't spoken to Bucky much as of late, barely acknowledging any of the awkward encounters that had occurred in the past months, instead choosing to face him with a professional-politeness.

"Nothing," you said, not particularly aware of what it would look like to have Bruce emerge from your bedroom.

"Is something going on between you two?" he asked directly. He gave a laugh void of humor, the sound escaping him in a huff. "Do you have a thing for emotionally damaged men?" He gestured to himself with his vibranium arm.

The small smile on your lips fell. Anger simmered in your eyes.

How could he? How could he reduce his feelings for you to nothing and stomp on them like it was trash?

You stood and marched towards him, a wave of fury overcoming you, thrusting a wrapped parcel into his hands.

"He helped me get your present, actually. Happy birthday," you spat, watching as Bucky's mouth fell open silently. You pushed past him, unable to look him in the eyes, feeling your stomach twist.

Bucky remained rooted to the spot, fiddling with the wrapping paper hesitantly before he ripped it open.

It was a first edition copy of 'The Grapes of Wrath', excellent condition. The subject of Bucky's favorite books came up after your first encounter when you saw him reading 'The Hobbit'.

"Is it about angry grapes?" you had asked, confused when Bucky laughed. He promised he would buy it and lend you the book one day.

Bucky's ground his teeth, every cell in his body telling him to go after you. But, for all the reasons he had told himself since the day of your confession, he made himself stay put.

Bucky had missed out on a lot in his life since falling off that train in the Austrian Alps. His whole trajectory had changed, and instead of growing old in his century, he found himself in the 21st, thrust into the modern world and navigating his new life.

He always thought, back in the 40s, that he would meet a nice girl and settle down after the war. He would live in a cozy, tiny home and have three kids, maybe four.

He missed out on that and more - though he had been quite the playboy back in his time, he had never experienced true love. He had never met that one woman he would die for.

Bucky had commented off-hand once on how lucky Steve was to meet Peggy before he went into the ice. Steve had reminisced on that with a bittersweet smile, before telling him, you’ll find your Peggy.

Falling in love with you had blindsided him. At first, he viewed you as a friend, a sweet girl who he grew to trust.

Then, he realized that he was slowly being drawn to you, like magnets he couldn’t pull apart. He realized that everything you did was endearing, that you occupied his thought space all the time, that having you around helped him feel comfortable, safe.

You were young, determined, and so innocent. You were somebody who deserved someone as pure and good as you. You weren’t his Peggy - you were something more, so unique and unapologetically you, and he wanted you as his person so badly.

But you deserved someone good. Somebody like Steve, who stood for the best values and only acted for the good of mankind. Not someone morally-gray and jaded like Bucky.

He wanted someone to spend his life with, for sure. If he couldn’t have his idyllic life in the post-war period, then he still wanted to find a partner in this new, still-unfamiliar time.

You fit that profile. He wanted you.

But he would never forgive himself if he weighed you down with his sins.

When you told him you loved him, his heart had broke. He wanted to tell you how much he valued you, how he dreamed of kissing you. He wanted to be a part of your happy ending.

But how much of a happy ending could he really give you? Could he give you children, knowing they would always be in danger from his enemies? Could he give you a wedded, domestic life, when all he knew was how to fight and cause pain?

He had to make his sacrifice for the greater good. Even if he had to crush you, he had to do it.

Someone like Bucky wasn’t supposed to get happy endings. You were, but just not with him.

You couldn't stand to be around him anymore. It was affecting your concentration, your work. It reached a breaking point two weeks after Bucky's birthday, when you requested to speak to Steve privately.

"You want to leave?" he asked, his face appalled.

You nodded curtly. "You’ll still be able to contact me, if you really need me. But I don't think I can stay here anymore."

Steve didn't look as confused at your profession as you expected.

"Is this about Bucky?"

You cringed. God, did he know about everything that happened?

"I don't know what's going on between the two of you," he clarified quickly, "but I can see that something happened. He's not the same, either."

"I'm not in a good place right now," you admitted shamefully. "I'm not saying that this is goodbye forever, Steve. But for my own sanity, I think I need a break."

Steve heaved a sigh. "I know you wouldn't ask unless you really needed it. And you don't need my permission, you know."

"I know," you said, giving him a small smile. "But I just wanted to let you know that I'll be here whenever the team needs it. Emergencies only," you joked. "But for now I think I'll get out of here. Maybe go upstate."

"Have you told him?"

"Don't need to," you said, defensiveness creeping into your voice.

"I think he would like to know."

“We’re not really on speaking terms,” you said bluntly.

Steve clasped a heavy hand on your shoulder. He knew better than to argue. He was sure you’d figure things out for yourself, anyway. “I’ll miss you.”

Now that you had completed the professional courtesy, you decided that you would leave in a few days. You still had some matters to wrap up, and to say goodbye to your teammates. You loved them, and they deserved a proper farewell.

"This isn't goodbye," Nat had said sternly, pulling you into a tight hug. Her voice was quiet and soft in your ear as she whispered, "If you need me, I'll be there."

You squeezed her tight, threatening to tear up. "Thank you."

"Keep your ass out of trouble," Clint had said, winking at you. “And check in with us now and again, yeah?”

Sam was clearly unhappy about everything. And he definitely noticed that you had picked a day to make your announcement when Bucky was conveniently away from the compound.

"Am I gonna see you again?" he asked, raising his eyebrows after you'd embraced.

"Couldn't get rid of me if you tried," you promised, punching his arm.

You retired to your bedroom that night, sure that Bucky would hear the news later after he came back. You kept your phone switched off and door locked for the rest of the evening, making sure the your belongings were packed.

Just past midnight, you crept out of your room, duffel bag over your shoulder. You made your way through the compound, down the floors into the underground garage. Bucky's motorbike wasn't there - he still hadn't returned.

You were grateful. You climbed into your car, and tossed your belongings in the back. You had to stop thinking about him - if you let yourself do it for too long, you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to go.

With a heavy heart, you left this chapter of your life behind.

Your phone rang for days afterwards. Missed calls, voicemails left unanswered, texts left unread.

You couldn't bear to face him. If you pretended he didn't exist, maybe it would ease the pain.

You didn't know where you were driving to. You simply knew you had to get as far away as possible, clear your head. You were at a crossroads, and you needed to pull yourself together, but for now you would allow yourself to wallow.

You had been spending each night in a different motel. Wake up, drive, sleep. Wake up, drive, sleep. You wanted to put as much distance between yourself and Bucky Barnes as possible.

You had no idea how you had gotten everything so wrong. Did you really misinterpret the signals? Was every intimate moment between the two of you simply platonic?

You didn't want to feel so beat up over a guy, but he wasn't just any guy. He was the first man you had ever loved.

Life was funny, sometimes. You supposed that you couldn't always expect happy endings.

You kicked open the door of the latest motel, a bag of takeout in your hands. You noticed the dark, shadowy figure on your bed in an instant, your hand sliding to the dagger sheathed in your belt on reflex. Before your brain even had time to catch up with what you were seeing, you had aimed and launched it, shocked when a familiar voice rang out.

"Calm down, tiger," he rasped. The bedside light flicked on, and Bucky was suddenly there, twirling your dagger between his fingers. He tossed it to the side, letting it land on the carpet with a soft thud.

A week had passed since you last saw him. Seeing him sent an electrifying jolt straight through your core.

"What are you doing here?" you asked. You were shocked, but your first thought was that something terrible had happened. "Is it the team? Are they in danger?"

Bucky looked irate, his jaw clenching and unclenching. His hands were knotted together, worry hiding beneath his anger.

"I've been calling you for days. You left without saying goodbye. Hell, you left without saying anything." His voice was gruff and accusatory.

That gave you the answer you needed. The team were fine, and he was simply here to rant. You felt the initial shock of his appearance wear off.

He stood up and stepped towards you, and that was when you noticed the state he was in. His usually close shaven beard was slightly unkempt, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked worn out.

"Yeah," you retorted, "I kind of did that on purpose."

"Why?" His voice was a whisper. "Why would you do that?"

You were exasperated. You did not envision yourself having to explain your decisions to him. His appearance both delighted and depressed you. It was tiring, having these two sides battle each other whenever you saw him. Your love for him versus his heavy rejection.

"I can't be around you anymore," you admitted, your voice tight. "I thought I could, but I can't."

"Why the hell not?" he pressed stubbornly.

"You know why!" you cried out. "Why are you doing this to me, Bucky? I told you I loved you and, okay, you don't love me. Fair enough," you said, frustrated. "But to go out of your way to hurt me? Remind me that I'm nothing more than a friend? Bring other girls back to the compound so you can fuck them?"

Bucky flinched. "I never - "

"No!" you shouted, cutting him off. "You don't get to do this, Bucky." You felt wetness on your cheeks, and realized you were crying. It only made you more exasperated. "You don't get to tear my heart out of my chest and come here when I've been trying to get away from you."

He stormed up to you, hands reaching for you, but you batted him away.

"Don't!" Your hand hit his chest, barely moving him an inch. "Just stop! Please!" Your voice broke, and you shook with tears. The dam had broke, and seeing him here was just too much.

"Please don't cry," he pleaded, his face anguished.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice breaking. "What do you want from me?"

Bucky looked so upset, taking another step forward, but you walked backwards until you hit the door.

"You don't want me," you exclaimed through your tears. You needed him to understand how much pain you were in just by seeing him. "You can't be here, Bucky. I can't look at you and remember how you just don't love me back."

Bucky pulled you into his arms, tightening them when you struggled. He was stronger than you - you had no choice but to become a prisoner against his chest. You were crying as you had many times before in his hold, but this time it felt different. Your heart was pounding and you were aching, wanting to melt into him but also aware of the anger and sadness flaring within you. It was torture.

"It hurts too much," you managed to get out through your wailing sobs.

He didn't say anything until you stilled. He let you cry, your tears soaking through his shirt. Your quiet sniffs and hiccups accompanied his words when he finally spoke.

"You weren't supposed to appear in my life," he said, his voice tense. "You weren't supposed to be so wonderful, so comforting. You made me feel so safe."

You didn't say anything, confusion rendering you temporarily speechless.

"I thought I was fine on my own. I've been a soldier all my life, just focusing on fighting everyone else's battles. And then I met you."

You had no idea where this was going as Bucky's arms seemed to tighten all the more around you.

"It felt...strange, how I wanted to kiss you. How I wanted you there, next to me, all the time.”

You looked up at Bucky, really taking in his exhausted eyes, his chapped lips, the way he was looking at you now with an exquisite softness.

"I felt like I was doing something wrong. I thought - I don't want to - ruin you," he said. "You are so young and have your whole future ahead of you and I didn't want to bring you down with all of me. My history, my demons, my baggage. And I ended up hurting you."

A spark of hope appeared, wanting to ignite into a flame. You expelled a shaky breath.

"Do you love me?" you asked, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he continued to hold you.

He nodded, his words like velvet. "How could I not? Of course I love you."

Of course, he said. But your insecurities prevailed, and you shook your head.

"You did a good job of hiding it," you said sadly.

Bucky closed his eyes regretfully.

"I know. I don't know what I was thinking. I thought if I could push you away, make you fall out of love with me, you would find someone worthy."

"What makes you think you're not worthy?" you retorted.

"Some days, I feel like no amount of good deeds I do can redeem me," he murmured.

"Bucky," you said slowly. "You're one of the best men I've ever known. Your heart is so kind."

"I'm sorry." He grasped one of your hands, brought it to his lips, kissing the back of your hand. "I'm sorry I hurt you. Part of me thought you would shrug, get over it and find someone else."

Your smile was full of sorrow. "Then you have no idea how much you truly mean to me.

Bucky cupped the side of your face. Seeing you in this state had truly been a wake up call for him. When he found out you had left the compound, all his resolve had crumbled. He realized that he had hurt you so deeply that you couldn’t physically be around him. That was when he knew that the connection between the two of you was too rare to let it slip, when he felt an immense pain at the idea of never seeing you again.

Having you in front of him now was heartbreaking. Your eyes were puffy, and you looked tired and so frail. He loved you, and you were supposed to take care of the people you loved. He swore on his life that he would dedicate himself to showing you what you really meant to him.

"When you asked me what I'm doing here," Bucky said, a hopeful smile on his face, "It's to tell you that I love you, so much. And I'm here to take you home."

You nodded, fresh tears filling your eyes, except this time they were borne from happiness.

"Let's go."

He had already packed your belongings for you, you realized when he released you to hoist your bags over his shoulder, which he had placed by the door. He paused, slipping his hand into his pocket and placing a tiny kid-sized carton into your hand. "Almost forgot. For the journey."

Chocolate milk.

You threw your arms around him, jumping to hook your legs around his hips. He dropped your bags as you kissed him, his hands reaching to support your thighs as he returned it with equal passion.

"This room is paid for," you gasped into his mouth. "Let's go back tomorrow."

He was silent when he walked back to fall onto the bed with you on top of him, his mouth never once leaving yours.

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