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#sam marvel
imtryingbuck · 6 months
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fluff - ❀ angst - ❁ both - ✾
One-Shots
➳ Skinny Love - ❁
➳ It’s just Jenga - ❀
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lunamugetsu · 2 months
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Danny is a house husband.
That's it, that's all it is.
As the years went on. Danny retired from being a superhero. There was no need for Phantom when the GIW were dealt with and all the ghosts were under control.
Now what's left for him to do but to just sit back, relax, and finally be able to live his life.
Sam and Tucker on the other hand....
Well, they had plenty of pent up rage, wits, and chaos inside their mind to become villains.
But they had one rule.
Never bring work home and to never involve Danny in any of their supervillain business.
Okay that's technically two rules, but they're kind of synonymous especially since Danny has been taking care of their house while also entertaining himself with trying new hobbies.
Tucker and Sam both make sure that they never bring any of their villainy home to Danny, because all they want is for Danny to enjoy his happy hero retirement.
And Danny in turn, doesn't bat an eye when watching the news and seeing that there were magical plants that were attacking sites that oil companies were digging or that somehow Lex Luthor had lost five hundred million dollars and had somehow leaked records showing he was building weapons of mass destruction.
He also doesn't bat an eye when he sees that Tucker had brought home a telescope that definitely looks like it came from some fancy lab because hey, Tucker was making him an observatory so he can look at the stars and planets. While also how they were able to make a great gaming pc with computer parts that are definitely not sold in stores, because hey at least the newest update of Doomed wasn't lagging.
Or that Sam comes home with various plants and animals that are definitely not from planet earth, but hey the three headed wolf-lizard-eagle- hybrid thing (that Danny has affectionately named Fluffy) is pretty great at keeping the pests away from his vegetable garden and likes to eat any of Danny's new food creations and is a great playmate for Cujo.
So you can imagine how the Justice League thinks when dealing with the pair of new villains: Upload (Tucker) and Sam (I could not think of a villain name that would suit her, so it's up to you what you think her villain name would be)
And how they were currently wreaking havoc in the city either by cyber warfare with robots or by magic plant monster or a Frankenstein of both approaches. The heroes had all evacuated the civilians from the battle zone and are currently fighting a losing battle. When they've been effectively captured and restrained by the two. Right before the villains could go into a monologue, they hear a person clearing their throat.
Everybody looks to see a 25 year old man wearing a sweater vest (he made it himself, thank you very much) currently holding onto the leash of a giant glowing green dog and some kind of giant animal hybrid. The man's arms were crossed and was currently not sporting a very happy look on his face.
Tucker and Sam (looking at Danny with hesitant smiles): Hi honey.
Danny (frowning): you missed our anniversary dinner.
Tucker and Sam both pale as they quickly realized what the date and time was.
The league all watch as Sam and Tucker immediately start apologizing to the man that just walked into a battle zone.
Danny (still frowning): Hmph! I guess since you two didn't want dinner you can go back to your little fight. Don't expect me to make you any lunches for the next month, and since you two are having so much fun here, you'll be sleeping by yourselves for the next couple weeks.
The league all watch as they were let go as Sam and Tucker yell as they run after Danny yelling apologies as he was walking away from them.
This is not the last they see of Danny.
When Danny is displeased with either of his partners, he'll invite a hero over to have lunch of afternoon tea.
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nastybuckybarnes · 5 months
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Car Rides
Pairing: Bucky X Reader
Summary: Road trips are usually pretty boring, but you and Bucky find a way to pass the time.
Warnings: Smut, Public sex, Car sex, Language, Fluff, Mutual Pining,
Word Count: 1.8K
A/n: I got this request AGES ago apparently and I'm only just seeing it now! hope y'all enjoy!
~*~
"Can you move your seat up?"
There's a brief pause, almost like Sam's thinking about it, before - "no."
Silence hangs heavily in the car for a long moment as Steve drives and you can't help but feel bad for Bucky.
He's squished in behind Sam, While you've got a decent amount of room behind Steve.
"We can switch, if you want?" You offer quietly, nudging Bucky's knee with yours.
"Steve's not stopping the car just so Terminator can feel more comfortable," Sam interjects, ignoring the ice of Bucky's stare.
"I'm sure we can switch spots while he's driving. We've done far more on missions with less room, I have faith. Unbuckle your seatbelt."
"Yes ma'am."
You take off your own seatbelt, ignoring Steve's warning look in the rearview mirror.
"Okay, I'm gonna climb over you in the middle seat so when you scoot over I'll climb over and then we'll be set!"
Foolproof! Brilliant!
Bucky scoots over to the middle and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself, then grab his shoulders and stretch one leg over his lap.
Steve chooses that particular moment to hit a bump in the road, sending you tumbling into Bucky and forcing his face into your chest.
Your shirt of choice today is fairly low cut, leaving little to the imagination, even less now that Bucky's face is pressed to your goods.
Regaining your coordination feels like it takes a lifetime, but you eventually manage to pry your boobs out of Bucky's face and plop down in the seat behind Sam.
Your heart hammers in your chest and you avoid looking at Bucky with all your might as you put your seatbelt on.
It's no secret that there's tension between the two of you that has only been growing the more time you spend together, but now? Now that you pretty much forced him to motorboat you?
Horrible. Stupid. The worst idea you've ever had ever.
You almost pray for the car to roll off a cliff to save you from the embarrassment licking up your spine.
The ride is silent for a little while, with some of Sam's music being the only thing stopping it from being too heavy, and soon his soft snores accompany the tunes.
After maybe about half an hour, Bucky's knee brushes against yours once briefly, then rests against it more firmly, with purpose.
Your gaze darts over to him but he's got his eyes focused out the window. You let your eyes fall to where he's manspreading into your personal space, and freeze when your eyes land on the bulge in his pants.
The bulge that certainly was not there before the two of you switched spots, not that you looked.
And now you can't tear your eyes away from it.
Sure, all this time the two of you have been flirty and a little more than friendly, but never to this extent.
Your eyes raise to his face once more and your heart stops for a moment when you meet his gaze.
You're caught now.
Swallowing hard, you glance at his crotch once more then turn to look out your own window, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt at fighting the warmth that's quickly spreading.
Bucky rolls his window down, and the light mechanical whirring sound masks the soft gasp that leaves you when his hand lands on your thigh.
You glance down at where his hand is, watching as his fingers flex as he squeezes your supple flesh.
Your body acts on its own, thighs spreading slightly and giving him the green light he needs to slide his hand up closer to your centre.
Eyes focused on the rearview mirror, you slowly grab Bucky's discarded jacket and drape it over your lap while spreading your legs further, successfully hiding his fingers as they dust over your core.
"Cold?" He asks, glancing at you as he slides his hand down your pants.
You swallow hard and nod, leaning back and breathing through your mouth as he slides a thick finger through your folds.
"With the window open it's a little breezy, but the fresh air is nice," you whisper, breath hitching when he rubs your clit gently.
He nods his agreement, coating his middle finger in your essence then slowly pushing it inside of you.
"Clears the head."
You nod, eyes falling shut as he begins a steady pace, pushing on your walls deliciously slow.
"Exactly," the words are a mere breath on your lips as you lose yourself in the feeling of him.
He leans his head back, his eyes focused on your face as he massages your walls, pulling his finger out only to push two right back in.
He watches as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, brows furrowing as you try your hardest to stay quiet through the slow building pleasure.
It's almost torturously slow, and he knows that, but watching your small twitches and movements has Bucky's dick growing hard enough to cut diamonds.
"We got a good day for this, huh?" Bucky asks, grinning when you struggle to open your eyes.
"Yeah it's... good... it's really good," you whisper, eyelids fluttering slightly before you finally raise your glassy eyes to his.
"I could go for a snack soon though, something sweet to eat."
"Mhmm," you let out a soft moan of agreement as he slips a third finger inside you, pumping them in and out at a slightly faster speed than before.
Not fast enough to draw attention to the two of you, but fast enough for you to be struggling to keep still.
"Next gas station isn't too far out. They probably won't have much but we can stop there to grab a snack and stretch," Steve's voice says from the front seat, his eyes glancing at you and Bucky in the rearview mirror before focusing on the road again.
"Sounds good to me," Bucky says, his voice low and his mischievous eyes focused on you as you nod your agreement.
You dig your head back into the headrest, toes curling in your shoes as his palm rubs against your clit with every thrust of his fingers inside of your wet heat.
He stretches your walls deliciously, enhanced senses picking up the tangy sweet smell of your cunt on every gust of wind that blows through the car.
He can't help but lick his lips, greatly looking forward to tasting you once he's finished enjoying fingering your tight snatch.
Eyes slowly opening, you let your head roll to the side eyes finding his as you breathe softly through your mouth.
He grins cheekily at you and stuffs his fingers inside of you a little harder, watching in smug satisfaction when your face screws up with a mixture of pleasure and pain.
The car slowly rolls to a stop and Steve lets out a groan.
"All right. I'm gonna stretch my legs and grab a snack. Are you guys coming in?" Steve's eyes find Bucky's as he opens the door.
Sam jolts upright with a groan, rubbing his face then yawning and pulling off his seatbelt.
"I'm gonna come inside," He says groggily, stumbling out of the car and stretching.
"I think we're good back here, she's falling asleep," Bucky whispers, giving your clit a particularly rough rub before pulling his fingers out of you.
Sam and Steve head into the gas station, and as soon as they are out of sight Bucky is tossing the jacket off of your lap and yanking your pants down your legs.
He licks his fingers clean while using his other hand to undo his belt and shuck his pants down his thighs, exposing his weeping hot cock.
"We don't have much time, sweetheart, better make it count. N'when we get to the cabin I'll fuck you nice and slow and proper," he promises quietly.
You straddle his waist once more, wet core dripping onto his lap and Bucky can't help but hiss when he slides his aching cock through your folds.
He rubs your clit a few times then slides inside in one quick thrust, pressing his mouth to yours to swallow the sound of your moan.
With the window open, you guys aren't exactly safe. Anyone could drive or walk by and Sam and Steve will likely only be gone for a few minutes.
"Fuck, you feel so good, baby... shit..."
His voice is strained as you begin rocking your hips in his lap, eyes squeezed shut as the tip of his cock drags across your g-spot.
Rather than let you have your fun, he flips you onto your back in the back seat of the car and hammers his hips down to meet yours, his lips trailing over your throat as you moan softly at the new angle.
He's hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and kissing your cervix with every other roll of his hips.
The pleasure and pain mix and make your head foggy, and it doesn't take long for your toes to curl around Bucky's hips and your climax to creep up on you.
Metal fingers toy with your clit with expert precision, and within only a few moments, your walls are clamping down around him and successfully milking him of his cum.
He lets out a few shuddering breaths as his own orgasm washes over him, balls tight as he pumps you full of ropes and ropes of thick white cum.
His head rests on your chest for a moment, breathing you in as he basks in his high, and then he's carefully pulling out of you and yanking his pants back on.
You, on the other hand, are stuck on your back as aftershocks wrack your frame.
Chuckling softly at his handy work, Bucky helps you back into your pants then pulls you up into his arms.
You collapse against his chest when he leans back against the door, cuddled in his arms as much as you can in the cramped backseat of the car.
He holds you gently, his own eyes closing as he relaxes into his post orgasmic bliss with you.
Your heart is racing even minutes later when Sam and Steve return to the car, each climbing in quietly when they see the two of you curled up together.
Steve sets a grocery bag full of snacks and drinks down on the floor in the backseat, then turns the music on quietly and starts driving, oblivious to what's just gone on.
As he drives you settle against Bucky, falling asleep gently while his load drips out of your swollen cunt. A mess he plans on thoroughly cleaning up as soon as you reach your destination.
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ace-bucket · 19 days
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Happy 107th Birthday Bucky Barnes 🎉
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evilwickedme · 1 year
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Fuck it I'm bored so here's a ranking of different Peter Parkers by how Jewish they are
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Dead last, obviously, is MCU!Peter Parker. This version of Peter is the farthest from comic canon to the point of being almost unrecognizable at times. Also, Tom Holland answered the question "is peter parker Jewish" in a Wired Autocomplete Interview a while back with a very baffled "no", cementing him forever as my sworn enemy. So he's actually the only peter parker who, at least by word of God, is canonically NOT Jewish. -1000000/10
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Next up is Tobey Maguire's Peter Parker. I think this Peter is... fine, at least he's much closer to comic canon than MCU!Peter, but honestly that's not saying much considering how far the MCU strayed from comic canon or even the spirit of comic canon. But like overall, Sam Raimi's movies just aren't particularly interested in presenting Peter as Jewish, so, eh. 1/10
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By far the most Jewish of live action Peters is TASM!Peter, also by far the most comic accurate of live action Peters. I'd be remiss not to mention the fact that Andrew Garfield is Jewish, and he understands the character so fucking well. He stated on record that he played Peter as Jewish and that he sees Spider-Man as an inherently Jewish character:
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However, the Webb movies still do not textually define him as Jewish, and the best parts of Andrew's Peter's Jewish subtext are better when viewed in light of the comics. Overall, 6.5/10
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Next up is the original, our beloved comic book Peter, pictured here saying Happy Hanukkah in a panel from Matt Fraction's Hawkeye. Comic Peter is one of the most heavily Jewish coded comics characters of all time, which is saying something considering how Jewish comic books are as a medium. Obviously he was created and often written and drawn by Jewish writers and artists, but beyond that his driving ethos and values are incredibly Jewish, and as a bonus he's constantly sprinkling Yiddish and Jewish phrases into his speech, alongside things like the above panel where he outright acknowledges Jewish culture in a scene where everyone else is saying merry Christmas. However, despite the extremely heavy coding, Marvel Comics are fucking cowards, and he has yet to be confirmed Jewish, so I must give him a measly 8/10.
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Finally, the cream of the crop, the most Jewish of all Peter Parkers, Into the Spider-Verse's Peter B. Parker my beloved!!! Peter B. is voiced by Jake Johnson, himself a Jewish actor, and is a phenomenally accurate representation of comic book canon - but he also has the unique quality of being canonically, textually, in the actual movie Jewish! It's a bit of a blink and you'll miss it scene, but when we get introduced to Peter B. in his "one more time" segment, we see his wedding to MJ, where he steps on a glass. This is a Jewish minhag - custom - meant to represent the destruction of our Temple and Jerusalem, as well as remind us that sorrow and joy come intertwined, and is one of my personal favorite Jewish customs. It's a phenomenal moment in the best Spider-Man movie, and while this version of Peter would have been my favorite film version regardless, his Jewishness absolutely pushes him even further up. 13/10, no complaints
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kayvsworld · 9 months
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marvel bring them back i am no longer asking
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notafunkiller · 2 months
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best daddy ever
Summary: When Sam drops by unannounced, he discovers something new about Bucky.
Pairing: thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x female reader
Warnings: teasing, pet names, daddy kìnk, language, no mention of y/n
Word Count: 1K
Bucky Barnes masterlist
A/N: I really hope you’ll enjoy it!
Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!
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“You know that’s not funny, right?”
You giggle when you hear his broody tone as you make your way to the kitchen. You don’t realize that his words are not directed at you until you almost have a heart attack.
Of course you scream in shock when you see Sam sitting casually at your table while Bucky is leaning against the fridge with his arms crossed.
He immediately rushes toward you, though, when you place a hand on your chest. Your heart is beating so fast.
“Are you okay, honey?”
The way he casually wraps his arm around your waist casually to pull you closer in front of Sam makes you melt. You might never get used to him initiating PDA, but it makes you really happy.
“I’m okay, I’m sorry for screaming.”
You know he’s about to scold you for apologizing, but thankfully Sam speaks first.
“Hi, cutie. No worries, I came to annoy your tinman.”
You don’t even have to look at Bucky to know he’s rolling his eyes, his grip tightening on your hip as he groans.
“How many times do I have to tell you not to call her that?”
“So you don’t think she’s cute?”
You bring your hand to his chest just to distract him a bit. Sam loves to push his buttons almost as much as you do.
“Yeah, James, don’t you?”
You know you’re playing with fire after earlier, but it’s too fun not to. Especially when he gives you that look... you’re in trouble look. And you love to be in trouble with him.
“Get out of our house, Cap, so I can show her exactly how cute I think she is.”
Neither of you expected this since you both gasped. Bucky is sassy, that’s for sure, but you didn’t anticipate this type of casual sexual innuendo comment. Because he meant sex, right? There is no way he didn’t unless he is cruelly teasing you in vain.
“Guess the Winter Soldier is not so wint-” But Sam doesn’t finish his sentence, throwing his hands in the air in defense while still laughing when Bucky looks at him again. “Glad it still works, I was a little worried.”
“No need to worry, Sam, I promise.“ You smirk, patting Bucky’s ass twice before going to the coffee maker, stealing a whine out of him. “Want to stay for breakfast?”
“No,” Bucky answers for him, and you roll your eyes. You know Sam doesn’t mind his attitude because he’s known him for a long time, but you still want to be a good host.
“I can make crepes if you-”
“Doll, please.”
Sam looks at Bucky, then at you, and winks, smiling widely. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving. But don’t forget what I told you and stay out of trouble.“
It’s too vague for you to understand, so you’ll just wait for Sam to be gone to interrogate Bucky.
“Goodbye, Cap.”
And there he is, softer Bucky. You grab a cup for him too, and he smiles. You’ve never seen a more beautiful man in your entire life. He is magnetic and charming, and you feel like kissing him all the time. You don’t know how you managed to get him as your boyfriend, but you’re grateful.
“What is this? Oh my god, you kinky old man!”
Confused, you immediately make your way to the living room, following Bucky. You don’t know what Sam could have seen to say that, and you definitely didn’t expect him to hold Bucky’s cap in both of his hands, analyzing it. Your gift... Shit!
“Best. Daddy. Ever?”
You close your eyes, embarrassed, but Bucky, surprisingly, doesn’t seem to feel the same way. You don’t sense any shame or change in his vibes or posture. He simply stares at Sam as usual and snatches the cap from his hands.
“That’s mine.”
“I realized, daddy.” Sam can’t stop laughing even when he turns his head toward you. But when he sees you all serious, his face drops. “Or do you mean…”
“Mean what?“ You snap, a bit annoyed about the fact you two got busted in such a stupid way. And it’s all Bucky’s fault since he’s the one who left it there.
Only when Sam lowers his eyes to your belly, do you realize what he means.
“No, she’s not pregnant, idiot!”
“So you really have a fucking daddy kink? How do you even know-“ He stops mid-sentence, still totally taken aback, and Bucky sneaks behind you to open the entrance door. “How did you manage to corrupt this old man?”
You can’t help but laugh this time. If only he knew the truth...
Bucky puffs, pushing Sam out. “Goodbye, Sam!”
Thankfully, before Bucky could close the door in his face, you manage to say goodbye and wave:
“Trust me, I was not the one doing the corruption with this.”
You wish you could see Sam’s face. What a loss!
“He won’t stop talking about this, you know that, right?”
“You’re the one who left it here, so blame yourself.”
You take the cap from the table, where he put it, and walk straight to him, getting on your tiptoes before placing it on his head. Bucky looks at you with a mix of surprise and amusement as you adjust the cap to sit just right. He is the best daddy ever, indeed. If Sam heard how dirty Bucky could get during sex, he’d die. Contrary to what he believed, Bucky is the one who came up with this whole daddy thing while you were in the middle of fucking raw, right after he finished a mission. It rolled shyly but naturally of his tongue, and of course you liked it. You love calling him daddy even if you do it just to tease him. But it must be so hard, probably, for Sam to picture this mountain of a man, quiet but also sassy, knowing his past, like this.
“You’re staring.” Bucky smirks, and you feel your knees weakening. God, that smile! “And you’re horny.”
“What if I am? Gonna take care of me, daddy?”
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paanmoxi · 6 months
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SAMBUCKY commission i did for @chaos-and-ink :3
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sunvmars · 3 months
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only you || s.r.
pairing: steve rogers x reader (brief platonic!nat, sam, and bucky.)
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*navigation/directory | request box | taglist | masterlist
word count: 7.1k summary: only a few weeks after a breakup, you go out for the night with the team. steve doesn’t show up, and he’s been purposefully not showing up to anything non-work related after the breakup. however, tonight you drink a little too much, and insist that steve pick you up. warnings: angst (breakup, talk of bullying, body image issues), swearing, drinking, *smutty implications.
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"I'm sorry, I just didn't know who else to call," Sam explains, his voice raised to speak louder than the blaring music.
"She keeps asking for you, and she won't go with anyone but you," Bucky adds as he and Sam lead Steve through the crowded dancefloor.
The blond sighs and shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans. "It's alright, really- but how drunk is she, exactly?"
Before Sam can respond, they come to a stop right in front of the team's reserved booth. Bruce had only come for all of an hour of the night, but Clint and Tony had left about thirty minutes prior to Steve's arrival, leaving your well-being in Natasha, Bucky, and Sam's hands.
Steve looks over you and Nat; you're laid down on the long, cushioned seat with your head resting on her lap. Her jacket is slung over your lower half to cover your exposed legs from your dress rising up on your thighs. You're looking up at her adoringly, reaching up to twirl strands of her hair between your fingers as you mumble about how pretty her hair is.
"That answer your question?" Sam whispers, chuckling slightly.
Another sigh falls from Steve's lips, and although his heart aches, he has to stop himself from cracking a smile. "That it does."
He steps closer to the booth, taking in the sight of you with softened eyes. Typically, you never let yourself get this drunk, not in the public eye at least. Even though it's clear you've had more than a bit too much to drink, the sight is endearing.
Nat directs her attention from you and up at the three men approaching the table instead. Her expression is one of amusement with a slight hint of relief as she looks down at you again. "Hey, look who's here, honey," she says softly to you.
You turn your head in her lap and let your hands fall back down, finally releasing her hair from your gentle grip. Your eyes land on Steve and you blink up at him before a wide, drunken smile spreads on your face.
"Steeeeve!" you exclaim in a slur, reaching your hand out for him. "You came!"
He crouches down next to the booth, hesitantly taking your hand into his. "Hey, doll. 'Course I came, I always will. Looks like you've had fun tonight, huh?"
You nod excitedly and your smile spreads into a grin. "Nat's hair is sooo pretty, did ya know that? 'S soft too, like a pillow," you ramble, your words somehow not coming out scrambled.
"I bet," Steve says, watching Nat brush your hair out of your face. "Let's get you home, yeah?"
"Your home?" you ask in a softer voice.
Right. His home.
"I don't..." Steve starts before falling into silent contemplation.
He looks up at Nat who's already looking back at him, her expression apologetic and soft. Then his eyes shift back down to you, and his heart clenches in his chest. Your eyelashes flutter as you blink at him, your eyes light up and twinkle in a way that they only do for him, and your lips part a little as you take slower breaths.
How could he say no to that?
"Sure, yeah, we'll go back to mine," he concedes gently, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.
You smile again and scramble to sit upright. Nat lays a hand on your back to help keep you balanced, Steve taking your other hand in his free one to pull you up gently. When you're sat up straight, he takes Nat's jacket off your legs and helps you tug your dress back down.
He slides your phone off the table and into his pocket before throwing your arms around his neck. You take the hint to hold on as he slides one of his arms under your legs and the other behind your back.
Effortlessly, he lifts you into his arms. You clasp your hands together behind his neck and a giggle slips out of your lips- a sound that was once music to his ears which had now become one he longed to hear again.
"G'night, Nat," you say sweetly, turning your head to look at her.
Steve's body follows the direction of your head, turning towards the table so you don't strain your neck. Her eyes meet yours and she smiles at you once more.
"Goodnight, babe. Text me tomorrow, alright?" she requests before looking up at Steve and saying, "Make sure to get some water in her, we had to trick her into drinking some by watering down her tequila."
"Will do-"
Your gasp cuts Steve off effectively, her words only just now sinking in. "That wasn't tequila?!" you exclaim, your voice coming out quieter than you realize.
The three at the table laugh a little- even Steve lets out a low chuckle of his own.
"I'll let you in on a secret," Nat starts, her voice dropping to a whisper before continuing, "It was definitely tequila, but you know these guys are no fun, so we can't tell them that."
"Ohhh, right, right. I can keep a secret- you're the world's bestest adult sitter," you reply softly.
"The best, huh?" she questions with a half smirk.
When you nod, she takes a sip of her drink, placing the glass down before saying, "I'll be expecting my plaque soon then."
"You wanna say bye to Sam and Bucky?" he asks, looking over slightly to meet your eyes.
You hum in response and he walks you over a few steps to Bucky and Sam who are sitting at the other end of the table. The pair smile at you, though it's more of an amused grin on Bucky's end, and you return the gesture.
"Bye, Bucky," you say, sleep and intoxication ridden in your voice.
Bucky chuckles and rises to his feet to ruffle your hair playfully. "Bye, doll. You get some good sleep, alright?"
Your nose scrunches at the feeling of his hand in your hair. "Always good sleep when with Stevie."
Bucky sits back down, and Sam starts to speak, "Punch it in," he instructs, raising his fist up to your level.
You oblige happily, curling your hand into a fist to the best of your ability and bumping it against his. "G'bye," you slur, nuzzling your face into the crook of Steve's neck.
"Call us if you need us," Bucky says to Steve.
"Yeah, thank you for watching over her," Steve responds appreciatively, "Goodnight, be safe getting home."
"'Night," the three say collectively, smiling at him in a way that's bordering apologetic.
Steve forces a smile before turning to walk away. He makes his way through the crowd, holding you tight and protectively against his chest.
"You can go to sleep if you want, I can tell you're sleepy," he murmurs low enough for just you to hear him.
A small whimper emits from you, making a warmth spread through his body. He looks down at you adoringly before looking back up, shifting his focus back to the rather slow journey to the exit. Although some people part to make way for who they know to be Captain America himself, most of them are too drunk to care. So, Steve focuses heavily on navigating through the maze of bodies.
When he steals a glance down at you again, you're sleeping peacefully and your head has fallen back away from his neck. You must've felt him move though, because you immediately nestle your face back into his neck, and the warmth of your breath against his skin makes him shiver. The scent of the alcohol you'd been drinking lingers, but it's mixed with the familiar fragrance of your vanilla perfume, and it creates a blend that only you could pull off.
When you reach the exit, the cold, autumn night air hits both of your faces. Steve adjusts his grip on you to make sure you're comfortable and then walks to the car he ordered that dropped him off. The driver steps out, and opens the passenger side door for the two of you, allowing Steve to slide you comfortably onto the seat.
He thanks the driver as you whine at the loss of contact. You melt sleepily into his touch when he reaches in to brush your hair behind your ear to let you know he's not leaving. The bright city lights reflect in his blue eyes, and a soft, but achy, smile plays on his lips at the sight of you. Careful not to wake you or pinch your fingers, he fastens your seatbelt, making sure you're secure before closing the car door.
He walks to the other side of the car and gets in, choosing to sit by the window instead of next to you in the middle seat. As the car starts up, he can't help but look at you and admire you. The admiration quickly turns into longing, though. He takes in every part of your face, his mind plaguing itself with the memory of just over two months ago.
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"I don't think I'm right for you."
The words flow easily from your mouth like water between open fingers. Steve looks at you, utterly confused and hurt. His jaw tightens, his eyebrows furrowing as he opens his mouth to speak, only to close it again when he can't find the words.
He gets off the couch, rising to his feet and looking at you from across the room. "You want to leave, to forget everything from the last year and a half, just because you don't think you're right for me?"
The weight of your decision and his words sit heavily on your shoulders as you slouch over, putting your face in your hands for a moment. "I... I'm no good for you, Steve, and you deserve better than me... I can't be what, or who, you need."
"What are you talking about, y/n? You're perfect to me, I wouldn't trade you for anything," he explains, trying to keep his voice soft and reassuring despite the fear and irritation building up in him. "Please, tell me what I can do to make you feel better and I'll do it, I'll do anything-"
"You can't do anything!" you finally snap, your emotions being misdirected towards him. You let the warm tears that were welling up fall freely from your eyes as you continue, "There's nothing you can do, Steven, I'm not the person you need, and I never will be. Drop it, just leave it at that, and move on."
"'Leave it at that?'" Steve repeats back in bewilderment. "We have been together for almost two years and you expect me to drop all of it just like that?"
All you can muster up in response is a quiet, "I'm sorry."
He watches you stand up and sling your purse over your shoulder. Desperately, he scrambles for the right words to say to make you stay. "Baby, please, tell me what's really going on here- this cannot be it for us, I won't let it be."
Steve takes long strides towards you only for you to back away from him. For some strange reason, that small action hurt worse than any of the words that came, or could possibly come, out of your mouth. He stops dead in his tracks, trying to search your face for any sign of changing your mind. When he doesn't find it, he bites down on his tongue to save himself more heartache from the useless begging he wants to let out.
"I'm sorry, Steve. You deserve better, and you always have," you mumble, wiping the tears off your cheeks and walking quickly to the front door.
"I love you," he says, only to receive no response other than the front door slamming shut as you walk out of it.
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“You alright back there?” the driver’s voice snaps Steve out of his thoughts. “You need heat or air? Seat warmers? Anything?”
Steve shakes his head slightly, snapping himself out of it. His hand reaches over to you, and he rests the back of his hand on your forehead. “A little heat, thanks,” he says with a smile after nothing the tinge of cold your skin has.
“Of course,” the driver says with a returned smile as he turns the heat on.
As he avigates the familiar route to Steve’s apartment, with the sleepiness Steve feels, he's thankful for the fact that there's only a minute or two remaining of the drive. And on the other hand, he’s sulking about the short time left because that’s two minutes closer to you being gone by the time he wakes up.
He turns his gaze back to you, still peacefully asleep with your head resting against the window. The soft hum of the engine provides an almost calming backdrop that yet does nothing to soothe the ache that persists. Focusing on the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest always seems to soothe him though, and it still does so now.
The car comes to a stop in front of the apartment, and Steve reaches into his wallet to pull out some cash. He pulls out his keys too, to make it easier when he gets to the door. Then he hands the cash to the driver with a grateful nod before getting out of the car and making his way to your side. Gently, he opens the door, reaching up quickly to lean your head back on the headrest.
You grumble a little, and he's quick to ease you as he unbuckles your seatbelt. "Sorry, sweetheart, but we're home now."
"Home?" you murmur, still half asleep.
He carefully lifts you into his arms once more, and you instantly cling to his jacket. "Yeah... home."
The building's lobby is quiet as he enters through the automatic doors, the night shift doorman giving him a knowing smile. Steve offers nothing but a small and short nod in return, his focus solely on your drunken state. Luckily the elevator ride is short, but every second feels like an eternity to him.
The weight of your body curled up in his arms provides a comforting familiarity. It's a familiarity he soaks up though, having not seen you outside of work during the few missions you had together. In fact, you hadn't spoken to him outside of work since you left either.
Even during missions, you were short with your comments. And when you picked up your things from his apartment, of which you were actively moving into, you did it on a day when he was gone. You'd left your key under the mat and shot him a brief text letting him know. He replied, only asking how you were doing, but he got no response back.
The elevator dings, snapping him out of his thoughts again as he steps out, taking long strides until he reaches his door. He turns to the side, bending down ever so slightly to unlock the door with his keys in the hand hooked under your legs. He twists the doorknob and pushes the door open, carrying you inside with practiced ease.
The soft glow of outside city lights filters through the open windows. Paired with the dim tv, the lights cast a cool ambiance over the living room. With a deep breath, he heads straight to his room and slowly lays you down on the bed.
The bedroom is dark except for the blue and green aurora projected on the ceiling from the starlight projector you insisted he get since his room was too 'plain.' At first, the light kept him up at night because he found it too distracting, but since you'd left, he couldn't sleep without it on. After all, it was the only piece of you that you left with him other than the few shirts and undergarments.
Steve sighs deeply, taking your heels off your feet and placing them next to the bed. He covers you with your favorite blanket from the foot of his bed, and with a heart heavier than typical, he makes his way to the kitchen to fill up a cup with water. He then carries the glass back to the bedroom and sits it on the bedside table.
He takes a moment to simply watch you as he sits on the edge of the bed next to you. The soft features of your face relaxed in sleep makes him contemplate waking you up- you were always a peaceful sleeper, and he hated disturbing those few moments of peace.
Before he can attempt to wake you, you begin to stir, your eyelashes fluttering as your eyes slowly open. You blink slowly a few times, allowing your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, and then a sleepy smile forms on your face when you see Steve.
"Hey," he greets you softly, reaching over to offer you the glass of water from the nightstand.
"Thank you," you say.
It's obvious that you're still not sober as you take the glass and sit up too quickly, the sudden movement resulting in your head throbbing as you groan. "Ouch," you mumble, pressing the palm of your free hand against your forehead.
"You okay?"
"Think so," you reply, sitting up much slower than before.
The cool water soothes you a little as you take small sips of it. A contented sigh falls from your lips, your body appreciating the non-alcoholic beverage. You place the glass back onto its spot on the nightstand and then focus your attention back on Steve.
Your eyes reflect the projector's lights as your eyes rake over him for a few seconds. Slower than you realize, you raise your hand and brush it gently over his cheek in admiration. "You're like... like an angel, but a reaaally handsome one," you croon.
Steve chuckles, a mixture of amusement and genuine joy spreading across his features. "I'm flattered, but you're the angel here, honey," he says with a smile.
He captures your hand in his and brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. You giggle in response, the alcohol still evident in your system, and then your happy expression fades away. You look down, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious.
"I'm sorry for, uhm, causing a fuss t'night. I never meant to ruin your night..."
The look on his face becomes one closer to sympathetic as he drops your hand, now reaching over to cup your cheek. Carefully, he forces you to look at him as he speaks. "Hey, you didn't ruin anything, alright? I'll always come when you need me, and I'm just glad you're okay."
Missing the feeling of his skin on yours all too much, you lean into his touch, letting his warmth soothe you. "Thanks for...everything."
"Anytime, truly," he replies.
There's a comfortable silence that falls between you, the weight of the obvious unspoken words lingering in the air. You look up at him, trying to keep yourself awake. Steve drops his hand and tries to memorize every detail of your face. He knows that tomorrow things will go back to how they were, and he's not sure he can stomach that.
It only takes a few more beats of silence before he breaks the said silence, his voice low and gentle. "Can we talk?" he asks, his blue eyes searching yours.
You hum for a moment, taking a slow breath before saying, "Jus' for a minute, very sleepy."
"I just... I have one question, that okay?"
"Hm?"
Steve musters up the courage to speak, only breaking apart from your gaze for a second. "Could you maybe tell me why you left? Like why you really left?"
When your eyes flicker with hesitation and sadness, he starts to regret asking. The air feels heavier than it ever has, holding the weight of everything spoken and not yet said, but he breathes it all in. Right as he's about to tell you to not worry about it, you take a deep breath and smother your vulnerability with the knowledge that he deserves the truth. Slowly as to not give yourself another headache, you nod.
"S'like I told you, that was the truth, 'm not good enough. You look at me with so much love and admiration, and I know...I know I could never live up to what you think of me," you explain, drawing out each word a little more than you would if you were sober. "'M holding you back, always have been, and you deserve better."
His eyebrows furrow as he takes in your words, his gaze intense and sharp. "I look at you like that because of who you are, not because of who I think you should be," he says in an attempt to reassure you. He reaches out to take your hand in his as he continues, "You're always been more than enough, honey. I mean, hell, you're more than I deserve, and-"
"No, no, you don't get it!" you exclaim lowly, cutting him off and taking your hand out of his grip. "Y-you're perfect, you're America's golden boy, and 'm jus' me. I hate my body, my mind, an-and everything about me. Could never be good enough for you, Steve. As if I don't already hate myself enough, everyone says and sees how much more you deserve, except for you."
Steve's mind races and his heart tightens as he takes in your words. The obvious pain in your voice cuts through him like a scalding knife, the tears welling up in your eyes cutting him even deeper. He's now sure that nothing could measure up to the pain of hearing you talk about yourself in the complete opposite way of how he thinks of you.
Silence passes as he dwells on your words. Then it clicks.
"Who's been saying that?" he questions sternly.
You avoid his gaze like the plague, immediately breaking the eye contact you were holding. Physically, you can feel yourself shrink. Whether it's the guilt from your outburst, the shame from everything you've heard and thought about yourself, or the intensity of his gaze- you're not sure.
His jaw tightens in anger, but not directed at you. "Who, y/n?"
A deep and heavy sigh falls from your lips as your eyes dart around the room. "Phone," you say quietly, holding out your hand to him.
Steve looks at your outstretched hand, confusion covering the concern etched on his face briefly. He pauses for a moment before reaching into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out your phone. Placing it in your hand, he watches closely as you unlock it with shaky fingers. Your eyes scan over the screen, but it doesn't take long for you to find what you were looking for, and your expression tells it all.
You hesitate to hand the phone to him, but you do so anyway, lying down on the bed and curling up into yourself as soon as the phone touches his hands. And, not that you see it, but his eyes narrow as he reads over everything rapidly. You'd had it all saved in a little folder; every message, every media report, every post made about you.
He's not sure what's worse of the situation, to be honest. To know that you'd felt this way about yourself for God knows how long and not have said anything about it was painful, sure. However, the words written about you were downright cruel, analytical, and simply not true at all.
But the amount of things that were written and you had saved for you to read at your whim, only reaffirming whatever untrue things you thought about yourself? That was a different level of hurt that he could imagine hurt you hundreds of times worse than it does him.
Unable to stomach anymore, he places your phone face down on the nightstand. Silently, he scoots up on the bed to be closer, reaching out to place his hand on your cheek. You flinch at the contact at first, but his touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the words you've been subjected to.
"I'm so, so sorry, my sweet girl," he says softly, trying to force down tears of his own.
You take a shaky breath in and out, your voice barely above a low murmur. "Didn't want you to leave me, so I left first."
Steve's heart sinks at your admission, his thumb gently stroking your cheek to wipe away the stray tear that escaped your eye. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a gesture that's meant to offer some kind of comfort and reassurance.
"I would've never left you, and I still won't, okay? I know you care about what they say, but I don't. Nothing could ever skew my image of you, angel, you're my definition of perfect- you don't have any image to live up to in my mind," he promises with a soft-spoken tone.
You can't find it in you to respond even though you want to, all too scared of your voice failing you. Sheer pain radiates from you to the point where it's almost suffocating. While he's more than aware that no words can take back anything you've read or heard, the simple fact that he can't undo what has already been done riddles him with guilt still.
If he could, he would take all of that ache and bear it all for you.
"When did all this start?" he inquires, waiting patiently for your answer.
"I don't know..."
"I know you do, honey, you can tell me."
"Only... Only a week after we got together, got worse after I started moving in here."
"Scoot," he instructs gently, careful to control his tone with you although he feels a deep rage.
You oblige and scoot over slowly. Almost instantly, he lays down behind you, curling up so that his body molds with yours. He brushes a few pieces of your hair back before wrapping his arm around your midsection to hold you protectively against him.
"Can I ask you one more thing?" he asks, adding on, "And you don't have to answer if you don't want to."
After thinking about it for a second, you nod. He tries to find the best way to ask what he wants to ask. Deep down he wants, but somehow already knows, the answer, yet he doesn't want to make things worse. Nor does he want it to seem like the subject is the only thing he was thinking about.
"Is…is all of this, meaning what people have said and what you think about yourself- is this why we've never, you know, done anything together?" he inquires with furrowed brows from the overwhelming amount of emotions. "I'm just asking because I never thought this would be why, I thought I was doing something wrong or you just weren't ready."
Your body tenses at his question, and you have to steady your voice before answering, "Part of it. Never felt good enough, and I didn't want you to see me like that and be disappointed."
Steve frowns, sighing lowly as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. The gesture is simple, but it effectively conveys the depth of what he feels.
"I don't care how long it takes me to convince you, but I'll spend forever trying to get you to see yourself even a fraction of the way I do if I have to," he says as his thumb traces circles on your side. "You're absolutely breathtaking, angel. Fuck anyone who says you're anything other than beautiful."
A quiet giggle slips from between your lips, unable to hold contain your momentary amusement. For the first time in a while, he smiles a real, genuine smile. "You don't know how long I've missed the sound of that pretty laugh."
"You said 'fuck,'" you tease, trying to soak in the temporary joy.
He chuckles and the sounds rumbles through his chest. "Sometimes I can be a little hypocritical, especially when it comes to protecting you."
The smile you hold fades again, and you're left with nothing but the sadness and warmth of Steve's body behind yours. "Thank you," you whisper.
Steve tightens his hold around you and presses another gentle kiss to the nape of your neck. "You don't need to thank me for telling you the truth, it's what I'm here for, and I meant every word."
The two of you lay there in silence for a while. The room stays filled only with the sounds of your delicate breathing and the occasional passing of a distant car. This time, the silence isn't agonizing though. Steve's presence makes it feel comforting, and his words make your brain go mute even if just for tonight, making the weight of the world lift just a little.
"Stevie?" you murmur, breaking the silence.
"Hmm?" he responds.
Your fingers wrap around his wrist. "Don't wanna be alone t'night," you admit.
"Then you won't be," he promises softly. "Do you want me to help you out of that dress? No pressure, of course, I was just thinking it might be more comfortable for you to sleep if you changed. I think you've still got a shirt here or you could wear one of mine, and like I said I could leave if-"
"Steve?"
"...Yes?"
"Don't think I could get out of this dress by myself right now if I wanted to, and I'd love one of your shirts."
Steve smiles at your response, relief washing over him at your comfort with him. He unwraps his arm from around you, sitting up slowly before helping you sit up. When he slides off the bed, walking over to his dresser to find a shirt, you scoot yourself slowly to the edge of the bed. Your legs dangle off the edge and your shoulders slouch as you try to keep yourself awake.
With a worn-out gray t-shirt in his hand, he walks back over to you. "Alright, sweetheart. Let me take care of you," he says.
He places the shirt on the bed and reaches behind you to unzip your dress. You allow your head to fall against his chest, trying to soak in his warmth. His movements are slow and delicate, precise too, ensuring that he doesn't cause you any discomfort.
Once the zipper is down, he leaves his hands resting on your back to help you slide off the bed. Then he slips the thin straps down your arms, allowing the dress to fall to the floor, leaving you in just your underwear.
Crystalline, icy blue eyes rake over your body for a moment as he bends down to pick up the discarded fabric. It's not a sexual ogling, and you know that; he's simply admiring you the way he has always wanted to.
Suddenly feeling bashful, you avoid his gaze. You look at anything but him or your body, opting to focus on the street lights outside the big window. He catches your slight shyness immediately and quickly tries to soothe you.
"Hey," he coos with concern written on his face, one hand resting on your waist and the other cupping your cheek, "You're perfect, angel. Are you feeling uncomfortable, do I need to step out for a minute?"
"N-no," you answer promptly and force yourself to meet his eyes. "'M jus' not used to being looked at like this."
Steve's gaze softens, clearly showing he understands the vulnerability you feel. He leans in to press a lingering kiss on your forehead. "If you let me, I'll help you get used to it- and I'll make sure you never feel unsafe or uncomfortable with me. How's that sound?"
The corners of your lips manage to quirk up into an appreciative smile. "Sounds nice, Stevie," you reply, your voice low but still audible.
Returning the same appreciative look, he picks up the t-shirt and says, "Thank you for letting me see you, and touch you, but let's get into something more comfortable for right now. You need some sleep."
You nod and raise your arms up in the air so he can slide the t-shirt onto you. It's then that you notice he'd given you the same shirt you wore the first night you ever spent the night at his place, and almost every time since then, threatening to make you cry.
The fabric is as soft against your skin as it always has been, and the scent of Steve's cologne envelops you, providing a sense of security. A warm feeling spreads through your chest at how he cares for you.
Steve takes a small step back to admire you in the shirt, and just to get another look at you. A fond smile plays on his lips as he looks you over once more. "Always has looked better on you than it does on me. Good to know it still does," he says, honesty obvious in his voice.
Again, your eyes lock with his. You search him for any sign of anything negative, coming up with nothing almost instantly. He searches you for any look or hint of discomfort, but he finds nothing other than sleepiness and adoration in your gaze.
Silence passes over the two of you like it had just mere minutes ago. The quiet environment feels even more natural and comforting than it did before, though.
He clears his throat, trying to prevent the eye contact from becoming awkward for you. "Uhm, let's get you into bed, alright?"
You step to the side so he can pull the comforter back, your hands playing with the bottom hem of the shirt. He turns to face you, and you take a wobbly step towards him, balancing yourself by placing your hands on his chest. His hand flies to your lower back to offer you more support, and you look up at him through the eyelashes of your sleepy eyes.
Slowly, tracing your way up and down his chest once, your eyes stare into him with something he'd never seen in you before. In fact, the look is so intense that it could make any man weak, he's sure of it. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly at your sudden touchiness.
"Are you feeling okay?" he asks, somehow oblivious to exactly what look it is that you're giving him.
"Mhmm," you hum, drawing out the 'hm,' with a voice laced with a soft and sleepy seduction from still being tipsy. "Y'know, 'm not thaaat tired."
"Oh? The way that you're hardly able to hold yourself up says otherwise, angel. We have all of tomorrow to talk, let me just help take care of you tonight."
A giggle slips from between your parted lips in response to his cluelessness. "S'cute when you're so sweet," you croon.
"Do you, uhm, do you need something before bed? Like an Advil maybe?"
Instead of a verbal response, you grab onto his jacket and give it a slight tug. You take a step forward, pushing him back gently to force him to sit on the bed. He looks up at you in confusion, but you don't let go of him as you slowly straddle him. With your weight being supported by your knees on the bed and his legs under you, you lean in, nuzzling your face into his neck.
"Angel, what're you-"
Your lips brush lightly under his jawline, leaving a trail of tender kisses as you gradually make your way down to under his chin.
Steve's breath hitches, and his free hand comes to rest on your waist with a delicate, but firm, grip. "O-oh," he murmurs in a sigh.
You nibble gently on his jaw. "Jus' need you," you mumble before pressing your lips to his.
He lets you kiss him, unable to resist the feeling because, well fuck, how could he?
The taste of your lips is all too familiar, and as his lips work against yours, his hands find your hips. His hold on you is secure, and it does nothing to ease the arousal building up in your stomach. You whine from the contact, and he tugs you closer, still careful to keep you steady on his lap.
His resolve weakens, and he becomes hyperaware of your vulnerable state again. So, he breaks the kiss, looking down and into your eyes.
"Y/n, I'm not sure if-" he starts, only to be interrupted by you dipping down to bite on his neck. You suck harshly on his neck as you reach down and palm him through his jeans.
A low groan emits from his chest, his voice husky when he speaks. "God, baby.”
Thoroughly enjoying the reaction he gives, you whimper against his neck. He can feel the corners of your lips turn up into a slight smile. His other hand is on the other side of your waist, gripping it firmly, as soon as you start grinding down onto his thigh. He loses himself in the moment for just a second before reminding himself of your inebriated state.
“F-Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Wait, wait- stop.”
You bite down once more, whining slightly before pulling away. The sensitive spot on his neck pulses, rushing with blood from the sucking and vibration. He tenses up with a mixture of both surprise and arousal at your forwardness. Then he lets both of his hands find your hips and settle on them, his hold tightening on you.
"D-did I do somethin' wrong? Did that not feel good?" you ask with a deep frown.
"No, no. That's not it, I promise; everything you've done feels amazing," Steve reassures you, quickly shutting down your negative thoughts.
Once again, he clears his throat in an attempt to regain his composure. "Angel, you're just… not in the best state right now. I won't take advantage of you, and I don't want you doing anything you might regret," he explains as he looks down to meet your gaze.
You're staring up at him with those big puppy dog eyes that you always use as an effective method to sway him. Tonight, though, is vastly different.
"C'mon, doll. Don't look at me like that. If you still want me in a few hours, when you're sober, that is, then I am all yours," he promises, trying to bargain with you.
You stick your lower lip out a little unintentionally, giving him the cutest pout he's ever seen. "Sober..." you repeat, looking away almost in shame as you add, "Promise you'll still want me then?"
Steve tilts your chin up with his finger and forces you to lock eyes with him. "I can promise you. I've never wanted anything more in my life than I want you. And that's never going to change."
Tantalizingly, he runs his thumb across your lower lip, a small smile playing on his lips. "But, I need you to be sure that this is what you want. I want you to remember every moment, not just bits and pieces of it, and know that everything we do is your choice," he says softly.
After taking a moment to process his words, you nod in understanding- noting the sincerity in his eyes. The room fills itself with an assortment of emotions, ranging everywhere from desire, uncertainty, and just a touch of venerable fragility.
Steve brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his expression one of soft neutrality. "Alright. Let's get you tucked in," he whispers, his voice a low murmur.
You let go of his jacket after he scoots back on the bed, bringing your knee from the other side of his leg and lying down. You curl yourself into a ball, and Steve's eyes never leave you as you do so. He takes a moment to appreciate the mere sight of you back in his bed, and a wave of warmth rushes through his chest. His earlier desires are still very much present, but so is the respect for the boundaries he set for your well-being.
He gets up briefly to pull the blankets over you before sitting down in the comfy chair in the corner of the room to take his shoes off. The chair you'd begged him to get as well to fill up the empty space in the room.
After sliding the boots under the chair, he makes his way to the dresser to change into some loose-fitting sweatpants. When he's about to put a shirt on, you grumble a 'no,' that catches his attention and makes him turn to face you.
"No?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow up questioningly.
"Nuh-uh," you respond with a shake of your head.
He chuckles lightly. "Why not?"
"Warmer without it, not a bad sight either," you say softly, following it up with a yawn.
Steve smirks in appreciation of your usual playfulness. "If you insist," he concedes, deciding to forgo the shirt. He slips the shirt back into the drawer and walks back over to the bed.
He settles himself in beside you and lifts his arm up, allowing you to scoot into his side and rest your head on his chest. Happily, you hum, soaking up his warmth and focusing on his steady heartbeat. He then reaches down with his free hand to pull the blanket over himself.
"Uncomfortable?" you murmur, sleep laced in your voice.
"No, I'll be alright as long as you're comfortable."
A second passes by before you speak again. "Thank you."
"For what, angel?"
"For being so...you."
You feel Steve's chest rise and fall with a deep, contented sigh. His fingers trace slow circles on your back through your shirt. "Always," he whispers, his soft voice lulling you even closer to sleep.
The room stays wrapped in a soothing silence, the only sounds heard being the quiet breaths from both of you. As you lay there trying to sleep, you can't help but marvel at the man beside you. Everything about him is truly perfect, from his basic concern for your well-being to the way he has always taken care of you.
Your eyes begin to feel heavy, slowly shutting fully as you find yourself on the brink of slumber. Just before you succumb to sleep, you muster up the energy to mumble, "Steve?"
"Hmm?" he responds, his chest rumbling under your cheek.
"'M glad it's you."
"Wouldn't trade you for anything, sweetheart," he murmurs, placing a kiss on the top of your head. "And, for the record, I'm glad it's you too."
Steve continues to run his fingers over your back as you fall asleep. His fingers create a rhythmic pattern that mirrors the peaceful in and out of your breathing, only making your rest more soothing. He looks down at you and smiles to himself, reveling in the sheer joy of having you back, even if it's only for tonight.
Often the weight of his responsibilities feels too heavy to bear, but with you, there's a sense of solace that transcends the chaos of the outside world. Everything about you and your presence is a sanctuary. It's all a nice reminder that, after everything he does for everyone else, he's worthy of a little tranquility at the end of the day too.
Steve presses another gentle kiss into your hair before closing his eyes, savoring the sweet moment. "Goodnight, angel."
He hears your tired, softly grumbled response before he falls asleep. Though he tries not to let himself get too wrapped up in the moment, too used to your presence again, he does anyway. If there is anything he wants for the rest of his life, it's you next to him.
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taglist!
@pigeonmama @rogersbarber @buckysprettybaby
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womp-womp-chomp-chomp · 2 months
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Sam coming home to find Bucky watching strange unsolved mysteries: whatcha doing?
Bucky, watching intently: seeing how many of these was me.
Sam: …how many did you find so far?
Bucky: around 8, I’m still not sure about the one.
Sam: 😨
990 notes · View notes
literaryavenger · 19 days
Text
Can I be him?
Summary: When Bucky finds something of yours, he hopes against hope that you feel the same way about him.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Fem!Reader
Warnings: Language cause it's me. Fluff. A lot of angst. Idiots in love. Self-deprecating thoughts, both reader and Bucky. No use of Y/N.
Word Count: 4.8K
A/N: It’s 3am where I live, so… Happy 107th Birthday to my favorite Supersoldier! Today I’m posting 2 Bucky fics because my baby deserves it, this one and another one sometime around the afternoon. Hope someone likes it! Thank you to my angels @ordelixx and @mrsbuckybarnes1917 that gave me so many ideas that helped me finish this. I love you🖤
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Being an Avenger is not easy. The long missions, the intense training, the weight of the world on your shoulders…
Everybody on the team has a different way to unwind after a mission. Steve draws, Clint and Natasha compete doing target practice, Thor sleeps, Sam plays video games, Bucky takes motorcycle rides, Tony and Bruce work on side projects in their lab, Loki reads, Peter does his homework and Wanda cooks with Vision.
For you, it’s going to the rose garden behind the Compound. It’s a bit of a sanctuary for you, Tony allowed you to put tall hedges of roses with a gazebo-like structure in the middle of them facing the lake, only it’s entirely made of vines. You made it yourself, that’s your power: you can manipulate anything plant-related. 
Everytime you finish a mission the team splits up as soon as the debriefing is over and you walk straight here. You sit on the bench, also made of vines, take out your diary and start writing.
You write about everything, from details of missions to your feelings about the team, from things you did that you don’t want to forget to things that you want to do after you’re not so tired anymore.
The hedges hide you from view and the only thing you can see when you’re there is the lake. Sometimes, after a particular difficult mission, you don’t even write. You just sit there and look out into the water, the sunshine or moonlight shining down on you, and you feel at peace.
It helps that nobody else ever comes here. The team understands it’s your safe space, and the agents are mostly scared of your powers ever since you grew a giant carnivorous plant and it bit an agent that squeezed your ass during training. 
The agent got both taken to the medbay and suspended on the same day, and you got the thanks of about a dozen girls that had the same problem with the same asshole.
You walk out of the conference room, the debriefing of the team’s latest mission just wrapped up, and like usual everyone scatters to their own after-mission ritual.
Today, though, you can’t concentrate on anything. Your feet take you to the rose garden by reflex, but your brain doesn’t even register you’re there until you sit on the bench.
Today’s mission took a lot out of you, not just because of the amount of magic you had to use to get everyone out safely, but also because it was your fault the team was in so much danger in the first place.
You fucked up your task, Natasha had to step in and save your ass, moving away from her post and making her late for her own task and that derailed the entire mission. At the end, you had to use your powers to take out the hundreds of Hydra agents at the same time, which is no small feat and made you almost pass out.
Everybody told you on the way home not to worry, the mission was successfully accomplished and everyone made it out safely, but you know that if it wasn’t for your screw up the team would’ve gotten in and out of base without so much as a scratch. 
Nobody had fatal injuries, thank God, but Sam got shot in the leg, Clint got stabbed and everyone else had various degrees of injuries because Hydra got the jump on the team.
Because of me. That was all you kept thinking about. Your brain had a field day making up all kinds of scenarios where your mistake cost someone’s life, a few of them even had the entire team dying because of your stupidity. 
You were so caught up in your head that you didn’t even notice someone following you to the rose garden.
Not that you ever do. 
If there’s one thing Bucky Barnes knows how to do, is to move around undetected. He’s a master assassin, he was trained for this for over 50 years, he knows how to be a shadow. Except now he uses his skills for good during missions and, occasionally, to follow you.
Not in a creepy way, of course, just to check on you. At least that’s the excuse he always uses so he won’t have to admit to himself that what he does is, indeed, a little creepy.
But he can’t help himself, Bucky knew from the moment he saw you that he was fucked. 
The moment you walked into the room to meet the team his heart was yours. You stole it with one simple smile, with one look of your beautiful eyes.
You introduced yourself and shook hands with everyone, but when you looked at Bucky he felt like a light came on and it was just you two. You shook his hand and he felt like he had to take it off and give it to you, it was yours now. His hand, his arm, his leg, his head, his heart, his soul. Everything he is was now yours, he just knew it.
Then you said his name and he could’ve died right there and then. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and it was barely two syllables. Every word you said, every laugh and sound that came out of your pretty mouth, Bucky felt like it was all for him. Nobody else mattered.
Bucky knew then he was in love.
But he didn’t know how to approach you. You were like a fairy, like a princess. Growing flowers, always smiling, baking, growing everyone’s favorite flowers and always willing to help, like growing Aloe when Wanda burned herself cooking, or Chamomile to help with Tony’s anxiety, or Valerian roots whenever someone was feeling down. 
You were like sunshine and he was terrified he’d kill your light. But he’d be damned if he’d let the world kill your light either, he’d protect you with his life.
So he took to following you, making sure you were safe from a distance. But it’s not like he never talked to you, the more time you spent with the team the more comfortable Bucky got around you and eventually you became friends.
Bucky knew you could take care of yourself, you were one of the strongest members of the team, but he didn’t like it when you were in your rose garden by yourself. The tall hedges made it impossible to see incoming danger, so he kept an eye on you just to be sure. For his own piece of mind.
And you never saw him.
That was Bucky’s actual way to unwind after a mission. He’d tell everybody he was going for a ride on his bike, but he’d drive it through the woods around the compound and to the other side of the lake where he’d have a perfect view of you without you knowing. 
Deep down he knew it was a little creepy, he could just ask you if he could join you, but he felt like you needed your time alone without anyone else around, and he knew if he asked you, you’d say yes no matter what you were feeling, because that’s just the kind of person you are.
So Bucky watched you from afar, always careful not to be seen. He watched you write for hours, it relaxed him to see your beautiful face so concentrated. Sometimes you’d laugh quietly at what you’re writing and those were the only times Bucky was grateful for the supersoldier serum that allowed him to hear such a beautiful sound even with so much distance between you.
But it was torture for him when he knew you had a bad day. Sometimes you’d hug your knees and cry, Bucky could tell how much you’d need a hug, and it killed him that he couldn’t just walk up to you and hug you.
Everytime he sees you cry his heart breaks a little and he always tries to make you feel better when you walk back inside. He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, he just tried to make you laugh. But all he wanted to do was dry your tears.
You did notice Bucky always seemed to act a little goofy when you were feeling down, like he somehow knew, but you never thought much of it. You knew he was a very observant person, so you assumed he just saw your mood through your behavior better than most.
Bucky loves hanging out with you, even if it’s just as friends. You make fun of him like with everyone else, you don’t treat him like could explode at any moment, never walking on eggshells around him like most people do.
You’ve never been afraid of him, and he’s glad that you don’t treat him like glass. You treat him like everyone else, and it makes him feel normal. Everytime time he hangs out with you, you take him back to a time where he was unbroken. You make him feel alive again.
And he falls more in love with you by the second because of it. You’re all he wants, he wants to have you and kiss your lips and never let anyone hurt you. That’s all he can think about, but he knows that’s not gonna happen.
He heard you talk to Natasha and Wanda, heard that there’s someone you’d gone on a few dates with. But Bucky knows that guy doesn’t deserve you, nobody does. Even Bucky himself doesn’t deserve you, you’re too pure for anyone in this world, but if there’s someone that has any chance of making you happy, Bucky prays to God that someone is him.
Bucky knows today’s mission shook you deeply. He knows you blame yourself, and no amount of reassurance will make you believe that everything is okay. So today, for the first time, Bucky actually follows you. He can see your unfocused eyes even as you walk and he wants to be near you, just in case.
He almost walks to you when you curl up on the bench and start sobbing quietly, but he holds back not wanting to startle or upset you further. He just listens to your soft cries until you stop and compose yourself. You sigh and get up, walking back to the Compound to take a much needed relaxing shower.
But you’re still so much in your own head that you don’t even notice you left your diary on the bench in the gazebo. 
Bucky did notice, though.
He’s tempted to call after you and tell you, but something deep down tells him not to. He waits until you’re gone and then walks to the bench, picking up your diary and opening it. He doesn’t know why, he knows it’s wrong, these are your private thoughts, but he’s just drawn to it for some reason.
When he starts reading he notices you don’t mention any specific names, which makes sense because only you read it, you know who you’re writing about. He reads a page here and there, reading about your missions or lazy days. 
He reads about some memories with the team you wrote about, some he remembers and others he probably wasn’t there for, but seeing all these memories from your point of view does something to him.
It makes him feel connected to you, makes him feel like he’s reading your heart and soul, because he kind of is. Then he reads something that captures his attention completely. 
You write about eyes blue like the ocean and just as troubled, about a smile that could light up the world. You write about someone with a complicated past that never lost his spark, never lost his love for life. 
A man that went through hell, and never once took it out on the world. A man that didn’t ever blame the world, even when he had every right to, choosing instead to protect it. 
You filled pages and pages with everything you admire about this man, everything you love about him that you know he hates. 
And Bucky feels like every word you wrote, you wrote for him. But could this be him? Could he be the one you talk about in all your stories?
He wants to. He wants this to be him. He prays you’re talking about him. He wishes this could be him… Who is he kidding?
Of course it’s not me. 
It’s probably the guy you’ve been dating. Yeah, that’s it. You’re in love with that guy, that much is clear. 
Bucky gets to the page where you write about your dates with the guy, but he can’t read them. He closes the diary, not knowing that you compared your date to Bucky every step of the way. Not knowing that you granted the guy a second date just to be sure he couldn’t compare to Bucky, and went on a third date at a coffee shop just to let him down gently.
Bucky didn’t read how you know he’s the one for you, he didn’t read his own name written in your handwriting, the only name in your whole diary because he’s the only person you never want to forget, even though you know you never will.
But Bucky didn’t read that.
He puts your diary back where it was on the bench and, with his heart broken and his hope that one day you could be his lost, he goes back inside and to his room.
It’s only when you go back to the rose garden after your shower that you notice you left your diary there, but don’t think much of it. Nobody ever comes here anyway, as far as you know.
After finding out you’re in love with someone else, Bucky can’t stop himself from acting differently towards you, which you don’t fail to notice.
It’s not like he’s mean, but your conversations get shorter, like he tries his best to end the conversations quickly. He no longer sits close to you, no longer tries to make you laugh when you’re feeling down, doesn’t hang out with you as much during your down time and if he does, it’s never just the two of you anymore. It’s silly to say, but you miss him.
Bucky knows he’s been distancing himself, he knows you’ve noticed and he can see it’s affecting you, but he’s doing this to protect himself. He knows it’s only a matter of time before you present your boyfriend to the team, the man you’re in love with and he doesn’t want it to hurt more than necessary.
You decide not to push Bucky, knowing he has his reasons to pull away from you. Maybe he’s just trying to deal with all the stress the team’s been under and you don’t want to add any more to that, so you let him be.
A few weeks later the team’s on their sixth mission in just as many days and everyone is exhausted. You’ve been taking down Hydra base after Hydra base, because waiting too long meant losing your chance to shut down their operations for good before they got the opportunity to leave.
You’ve been dividing in smaller teams to take down the bases while still giving the team a chance to recuperate, but this last one was the biggest and required the whole team together, which sucked for you because you were in the last team with Steve and Bucky that took down a base just yesterday, so the three of you got barely a few hours of sleep while you flew to the last base.
You’ve cleared the base, all that’s left is the agents in the courtyard who are really going down fighting. The whole team is outside now, the Hydra agents giving you a hell of a fight. You’re using your magic against your better judgment, giant vines coming out of your arms like whips, covered in poisonous thorns. One touch of that and anyone would go down immediately, everyone except you.
Or at least that’s what you think.
As you’re fighting you can see an agent trying to sneak up on Bucky who’s fighting near you, so  you quickly take care of it for him. Bucky turns around and sees the agent down and then looks at you with that charming smile you fell in love with and winks at you. “Thank you, doll.”
That’s the friendliest Bucky’s been towards you in weeks and you can’t help but smile back with a small blush. You can see the last agent standing coming at you from your peripheral vision and you quickly whip him with a vine, taking him down as soon as you can so you can turn back to look at Bucky, still smiling at you.
Bucky’s smile drops quickly, though, as he sees your face draining of any color. You barely have the time to register the sting of your own thorn on your arm that you’re already falling to the ground.
Bucky tries to catch you, but he gets thrown back by your magic that goes into defense mode, creating a wall of thorns to protect your now unconscious body.
The team doesn't know what to do, none of them know enough about plants to be sure that these thorns wouldn’t just kill them all. The only one that would know that is you, the person that’s passed out, or worse, trapped in the midst of a cocoon of thorns.
“Okay, we need to find a safe way to-” Steve starts but cuts himself off almost immediately. “What are you doing?!”
Bucky doesn’t even turn around to answer, too intent on breaking the thorns around you with his metal arm, not caring that the thorns are ripping his clothes and scratching his face, all he can think about is getting to you.
He finally manages to get through to you, but nobody can follow because your magic regrows the thorns Bucky broke, trapping him with you inside the cocoon. But Bucky doesn’t care, his eyes never leaving his face as he kneels behind you, running a finger softly along your cheek and shivering when he feels it’s cold like ice.
His mind goes to the worst possibility, that there’s nothing he can do, but his brain gives him some hope seeing as your magic wouldn’t be working if you were dead. Right?
He snaps out of his thoughts when he feels the thorns around you vibrate, he takes you in his arms and shields you with his body from whatever is about to happen. But the only thing that happens is the shade cast by the thorns gets replaced by sunlight. Bucky looks up and realizes Wanda used her magic to lift the thorn cocoon.
“You couldn’t have done that before?!” Bucky barks at Wanda with a glare while carefully picking you up to take you to the Quinjet.
“She’s not the dumbass that threw himself headfirst in a mess of thorns without even considering another course of action!” Natasha came in Wanda’s defense, though she seemed more amused at Bucky’s antics than annoyed.
As the team heads back home in the jet, Bruce examines you and lets the team know you’re still alive but in a coma. Their relief is cut short when Bruce makes it known that he has no idea when, or if, you’ll wake up.
As soon as the Quinjet lands you’re taken to the medbay and hooked up to machines, an IV in your arm to keep you hydrated. Bucky holds your hand through it all, staying all night next to you just in case you wake up. He didn’t want you to be freaked out and alone, he wanted to be the first person to see your beautiful eyes open.
When morning comes, though, you’re still unconscious, but Bucky doesn’t lose hope. You probably need a good sleep. That’s what he tells himself for two, three, four days. That’s what he keeps telling himself for a week, two weeks. Never once leaving your side, not eating unless Steve brings him food and makes sure he eats before leaving, and using the bathroom of your room in the medbay.
He barely sleeps and when he does he dreams of you.
Everyone was getting worried about him, he refused to leave your side until one day Steve came into your room to tell Bucky there was something wrong with your rose garden. Bucky was torn between staying with you and seeing what Steve was talking about, but decided that it would kill you if something happened to your roses so he had to make sure everything was okay when you woke up. Because you’re going to wake up.
Bucky follows Steve to your rose garden, and his eyes widen in horror as soon as he sees it. The roses, the hedges, the vines. Everything is dying.
Bucky’s heart breaks, only one thought in his mind. If your plants are dying, does that mean you’re slowly dying too?
No. That’s unacceptable. You’re not gonna die, not if Bucky has anything to do with it. He takes it upon himself to take care of your garden, watering it and doing everything he can to keep the roses and vines alive, fooling himself into thinking that this will keep you alive.
He stays on the gazebo day and night, sleeping on the bench, spending every waking moment trying to keep a hold of even the smallest part of you. But it’s not enough. Nothing is enough.
Bucky loses track of how many days he’s been in your garden, sleeping maybe an hour at a time here and there, watering the roses every few hours and crying the rest of the time.
After all it’s his fault, if he hadn’t distracted you none of this would’ve happened. You’d be in your beautiful garden, probably with your boyfriend, and the only broken thing would be Bucky’s heart. That he could’ve lived with. 
But how can he live with the knowledge that he caused your end? That he killed your light? That he killed his sunshine, his hope, the love of his life? He can’t live with that.
Not that he has to.
While Bucky’s spiraling while surrounded by dying roses, inside your room in the medbay you’re finally waking up after almost a month.
You open your eyes slowly, looking around you at the hospital-like room. There’s nobody around and, as you look at the window, you can see it’s really late at night. You sit up and try to make sense of what happened while rubbing your eyes. The last thing you remember is Bucky’s bright smile, and then nothing.
You look down at your arm and see an IV, which you take out while frowning. How long have you been sleeping?
You carefully get off the bed and make your way outside to your rose garden, just to be sure everything’s okay. It’s not like anyone’s gonna stop you anyway.
When you get close, the moonlight shines on the hedges and you gasp at what you see. Your beautiful roses withering away, the gazebo made of vines dying too. But the most confusing thing is the sobs coming from the bench, although no one’s sitting on it.
You get closer and see Bucky sitting in front of the bench while hugging his knees and crying softly. You frown and get a little closer before stopping, not wanting to startle him.
“Bucky…” You say quietly and his head snaps, his eyes instantly meeting yours. For a moment it feels like he’s trying to decide if you’re real, he reaches out and you extend your hand to take his. That seems to convince him and he gasps.
“Doll…” His voice is barely above a whisper, almost as if he thinks if he makes too much noise you’ll disappear.
“What’s wrong?” You ask him while getting a little closer to him, concern clear in your every feature. It’s only when you get closer that you see his face full of cuts and you frown. Those are not just any scratches, it’s clear to you that they were made by thorns. “D-did… Did I do this to you?” 
You’re kneeling in front of him now, one hand still in his one the other comes up to trace the cuts in his face softly, but he takes your hand in his and kisses your palm.
“I’m okay…” He reassures you. Just then he realizes, you’re fussing over him when you’re the one that’s been in a coma for a month. “Are you okay? How long have you been awake?” 
“I… I just woke up.” You tell him honestly, then look around at the dying roses and vines before looking back at him. “What happened to me?”
“You got stung by one of your poisonous thorns.” He says quietly, his thumbs rubbing circles on your skin while he refuses to let go of you. “You’ve been unconscious for almost a month.”
“A month?!” You’re shocked at the news, not knowing what to say or do, so you just stay there while letting the information sink in. The silence is broken by Bucky after a minute.
“I’m sorry about your roses… I tried to keep them alive, but…” He looks around with a hopeless expression. “I failed you.”
Your heart breaks a little. Does he really think he failed you?
You take a deep breath, then close your eyes and when you open them again everything’s back to normal. The roses are as beautiful as ever, the gazebo just as majestic. It’s like nothing ever happened. Bucky looks around in awe when he feels you take his chin and make him look at you.
“You could never fail me.” You say firmly, wanting him to understand you mean it. You look at the cuts around his face and you can’t help the guilt and pain that you feel deep within you. “I’m sorry…”
“It wasn’t your fault.” It’s like Bucky can read your thoughts, he knows all you can see are your faults, and he wants you to know he doesn’t blame you for anything. “You weren’t even conscious. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I never wanted to be one of the people that hurt you…” Your voice is a whisper as a tear escapes you. “The world hurt you so much already… I never wanted to be part of that. You don’t deserve it.”
Bucky frowns. He feels like he’s heard those words, but where? No, he didn’t hear them. He read them. He read them in your diary, where you wrote about the man you’re in love with. Could it be possible?
Could I be him?
“It’s me…” He says lower than a whisper, his eyes locked on yours, and it’s your time to be confused now.
“What are you talking about?” You ask him with a frown while wiping your cheeks.
“It’s me you’re in love with.” His voice is a little louder, but firm. He’s not asking you, he’s making a statement. Your eyes widen in surprise, you almost take your hands away from his but his hold prevents you from doing that.
“I-I… What?” Is all you can bring yourself to saying, confused as to why he’s so sure of it. Are you really that transparent?
“I read your diary…” Bucky says, guilt written all over his face, but at least he’s owning up to it. “You wrote about the man you love… and you wrote the same thing you just told me. It’s me, isn’t it? You love me back?” His voice is more hopeful now, his confident demeanor weavering.
“You… You read my diary?” You say, your mind still playing catch up. It’s only a moment later that you register the ‘love me back’ and you don’t give him a chance to apologize or justify himself before you’re speaking again. “You love me?!” 
Bucky hesitates a moment but nods firmly. “I love you, doll. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.” 
You feel like someone punched you and all the air has left your body. You have no idea what to say, so you don’t say anything. Instead you lean in and kiss him.
Bucky wastes no time kissing you back, but a thought pops into his mind and he reluctantly pulls back. “What about your boyfriend?”
“Boyfriend?” You frown again, having no idea what he’s talking about. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“You don’t?” Bucky feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he pulls you to straddle him. “What about the guy you went on a few dates with?”
You narrow your eyes at him but decide to table the conversation about how he knows that for another time, so you smile at him and decide to just be honest with him. “Do you honestly think that anyone could ever measure up to you? Because if you do, you’re an idiot.” Bucky grins and kisses you again. 
Maybe he is an idiot. But when he’s the idiot you’re in love with, how much of an idiot can he really be?
It looks like he can be him after all.
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buckymilf · 1 year
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me and the besties in july
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xspeter · 7 days
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do yall ever think about the jaw dropping fics that are probably sitting collecting dust in someone’s drafts rn.
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rocketrhap3000 · 7 months
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suffocate me with your love
summary: as requested by this anon, reader overhears bucky complaining about how clingy she is but doesn’t hear the full story, causing her to distance herself from him and unintentionally breaking both of their hearts
warnings: reader deals with some self loathing stemming from childhood fears, a few swears, this is pretty angsty but i promise there’s a happy ending
a/n: thank you for the request! as i said, this is such a personal topic for me and writing this was so healing to be honest. i hope it can bring some comfort for anyone else who’s been told they’re too clingy or attached. you are loved and you deserve love 🤍
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The little white cat on your lap lifts her head and stands up in alert when she hears the front door click open, signaling your boyfriend's arrival back to his apartment. Next, you hear Bucky’s footsteps tread softly over where you and Alpine have cozied up on the couch in the living room, and before you know it, he’s falling down beside you, careful not to crush the cat on the couch with you.
“Hey, Buck,” you giggle as he leans into you.
“Mm, hi,” he murmurs back. “Missed you today, Sweets,” Bucky breathes as he wraps his arms around you, holding you to him.
“Missed you, too,” you sigh back, loving how safe and secure you feel in his arms.
It’s been almost four months since Bucky officially asked you out. Before that, the two of you tiptoed around each other for nearly a year, starting when you first moved into the apartment next to his in the Tower, when you became a part of the science and research team with Banner. Bucky is the sweetest man you’ve ever met, and you have always felt safe around him and loved by him.
However, you have an underlying fear that you just can’t seem to shake, even though you’re extremely happy with Bucky. As a child, your family constantly told you how clingy and desperate for affection and attention you were. You couldn’t help it, though, no matter how many times they told you to stop being so attached. You just crave affection and closeness with those you love, and that includes Bucky, now. He’s never given you a hard time about it, though; in fact, he’s always reciprocated your touch and affection. He’s never once made you feel too clingy or attached, and you always feel loved and cared for by him.
“How were my two girls today?” he asks as he pulls away enough to just settle at your side instead, and you smile as you watch Alpine climbs right into his lap.
“Good,” you smile bashfully, resting your head on his flesh shoulder and leaning into him.
“Have you eaten dinner yet?” he asks, softly rubbing your arm with the hand that’s wrapped around you.
“No,” you murmur, trying to get as close to him as you possibly can. “Was waiting for you. What are you hungry for?”
“Anything you want, Sweets,” he smiles and kisses your temple.
This right here? Absolute bliss.
~♡~
Later in the week, you go to visit Bucky and Sam after their training session with some new recruits. He’d told you they’d be done around noon, and he offered to take you to lunch afterwards. Going out with Bucky always filled you with such unbridled joy, one like none other. Something about being with him just made you so giddy, like a little girl with a school crush.
You smile to yourself as you hear Bucky’s familiar chuckle voice off the halls as you make your way to find him. But when you pick up the conversation between him and Sam, your stomach starts to churn.
“God, I need a break from her,” you hear your boyfriend’s voice come from the kitchen, immediately grabbing your attention.
Who is “her”?
“Don’t even get me started,” you hear Sam scoff his reply. “I saw her practically up your shirt the other day and I felt the urge to swoop in and save you.”
Your brain automatically goes to the worst case scenario. Sam had walked in on you and Bucky cuddling in the common room watching a movie the other day. Is that what he’s talking about?
“Why didn’t you?” Bucky playfully yells. “Man, I thought she’d get the hint by now. She literally won’t leave me alone. It’s like she’s a leech or something.”
Your heart begins to race and tears begin to burn at the back of your eyes. He has to be talking about you, surely. You know you’re so clingy; he’s just been hiding how annoyed he’s been by you, just to save your feelings.
“Have you told her?” Sam asks.
“No,” Bucky sighs.
“Why the hell not?” Sam laughs.
“I don’t want to be an asshole, you know? She’s annoying, but I still don’t want to hurt her feelings,” Bucky explains.
“It’s not being an asshole to tell her you need your space, man,” you hear Sam reply.
“I do need my space. And especially from her. She’s suffocating—” you hear him say, and it’s the last thing you hear before your throat closes up, your ears start to ring, and your eyes blur with tears as you run down the hall back to your apartment.
Time seems to freeze as you make your way to your place, shutting and locking the door as tears stream down your cheeks.
Your biggest fear has come to pass.
Your wonderful boyfriend, someone you love more than anyone in the world, thinks you’re too clingy, just as your family had said all along.
You’re annoying.
You’re suffocating.
This is your worst nightmare.
What you don’t realize, however, is that Bucky wasn’t finished. And after you’ve run off in silent tears, he clarifies what you should have stuck around to hear.
“Especially since I have a girlfriend! I get that I’m assigned to train her, but Alexis needs to know I’m uncomfortable with how touchy she is both inside and outside of training. Plus, she knows I’m dating (Y/n),” Bucky reasons.
“The whole team knows, Buck. You guys look like lovesick puppies whenever you’re together and you can’t keep your hands off each other,” Sam laughs.
“Then why can’t Alexis take a fucking hint?” Bucky cries out with a laugh.
“Have you talked to Nat or anyone else about it? I’m sure they’d talk with her. I know I will if you want me to. We could even switch her with someone else so you won’t have to work with her anymore,” Sam offers.
“That would be great, honestly, man. I’d be in deep shit with (Y/n) if she saw the way Alexis gets with me. And my girl is the last person I want to hurt. I love her, Sam,” Bucky admits.
“Whoa,” Sam smiles. “You guys have only been together for a little while. You already sure about that?”
“When you know, you know,” Bucky shrugs. “She’s the love of my life. I think about her every moment. I never wanna be apart from her.”
If only you would have heard all that.
~♡~
Weeks pass and you grow increasingly distant from Bucky by the day.
You no longer stop over at his apartment to wait with Alpine for him to get back from trainings. You spend more time in the lab with Banner, and when Bucky asks if you need some time off, you politely decline. You no longer go to bed with him for sleepy snuggles; instead, you retreat back to your apartment after the few minutes of time you have together in the evenings.
You dodge his kisses and pull away from his hugs. You don’t cuddle up to him on the few evenings you do spend with him, and you don’t initiate any touch with him whatsoever.
It’s so hard not to give into his touches and kisses, but it’s genuinely what you think Bucky wants. For that reason, you don’t see just how hurt he’s been by the absence of your affection.
~♡~
“So, how are things with you and the lady lately?” Sam asks, nudging Bucky’s shoulder with his own as the two men sit at the counter of the bar together.
“Really?” Bucky scoffs after swallowing his sip of beer.
“Yes, really,” Sam replies with a chuckle of his own. “If I don’t ask, you won’t tell me anythin’. I gotta know what’s going on in your life, man.”
“Okay,” Bucky chuckles again, then lets out a sigh. “I don’t know. Like I’ve told you before. I love her. I think she’s incredible. But if I’m being honest, recently I get the feeling she’s not really into me anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asks, taking a swig of his drink. “She looked pretty comfy cozy in your lap at last month’s meeting," he teases.
“Well without giving up too many details…” Bucky rolls his eyes and winces as he struggles to word it tactfully, knowing just how embarrassed you would feel if you found out Bucky was telling Sam these details of your relationship. “She used just to be a lot more affectionate.”
“She always has been,” Sam agrees. “She’s such a sweet person.”
“I know. But she’s completely stopped. And without any apparent reason, too. Can’t remember the last time she even kissed me. I just… I don’t get it, Sam. What am I doing wrong?”
“Dude, I don’t know her like you do. But maybe just lay off for a little bit? Maybe it will prompt her to start things on her own if she wants them again.”
“Yeah,” Bucky nods slowly, thinking of just how difficult it will be if he decides to withhold his affection from you for a while if you don’t explicitly ask for it. “Yeah, that seems like it could work.”
But even though Bucky has accepted his advice, Sam notices as his friend’s demeanor changes. His already small smile starts to fade as the thought of you sitting at home alone while he’s out with a buddy crosses his mind, and something just tells him you’re not okay.
“Alright, Buck,” Sam sighs, waving down the bartender with one hand hand placing the other on his friend’s shoulder. “I can practically smell the smoke comin’ from your cyborg brain right now. Go,” he then nods his head at Bucky.
“But-”
“Go,” Sam insists with a smile. “Drinks are on me. I know you’re overthinking about your girl right now. Get home before your brain combusts.”
Bucky scoffs, amused at how well Sam knows him and thankful for the advice. He only hopes it will work, and that whatever tension there is between you two can be resolved.
He can’t stand not cuddling and kissing you like he used to.
~♡~
A knock comes at your front door just around eight, after you’ve already showered and changed into your pyjamas - ironically, it’s your boyfriend’s blue henley and a pair of his baggy grey sweats. You’d known Bucky was going out with Sam, so you expected to be alone for the rest of the night.
Toeing over the smooth panels of the wooden floor in your fuzzy socks, you leave your bedroom and head for the main door, nervous as to who may be there.
But an involuntary smile graces your lips when you open the door to your boyfriend, standing in the hallway with a beautiful bouquet of white roses in his hand and a box of your favorite chocolates in the other.
“Bucky,” you breathe, and even with things in his hands, he wraps his arms around your torso and brings you in for a delicate kiss.
“Hi, Sweets,” he greets after breaking away.
“What— uh, what are you doing here?” you stammer, suddenly becoming aware of how tightly you’re clinging to him and pulling back to put space between the two of you. “Thought you were out with Sam,” you say softly, stepping backwards to let him into your apartment, then turning around to head over to the living room.
“I… Well, I’d rather be with you,” he says, following after you. After a few steps, he catches up to you, and hands you the flowers and chocolates.
“What are these for?” you ask, accepting the gifts and admiring the roses with a small smile.
“Don’t need a reason to get my girl some flowers that are almost as pretty as her,” Bucky says, and you’d be swooning if you still weren’t so nervous about coming off as clingy.
Stepping over into the kitchen, you set the chocolate on the counter, then grab an empty vase to fill with water to place the flowers in. Bucky stands near you, watching as you fulfill the task, then setting the vase on your kitchen table, where all of Bucky’s flowers for you have gone.
Next, he grabs your hand as you bush past him to go back to the living room.
“Are you here to spend the night? Where’s Alpine?” you ask, dropping his hand as you sit down on the couch.
Bucky’s heart sinks and his smile falls. He thought you’d appreciate the little surprise, but now he’s convinced you’re just not into him anymore.
“I stopped to check on her right before coming to you. She’s good for the night if you want me to stay. Otherwise I— I can go back,” he says, hesitantly sitting down on the couch beside you.
“No, that’s okay,” you nod, relieved to hear that he’s here because he wants to be, and not because you’ve forced him to.
Silence falls over the room like a heavy, uncomfortable blanket. You’ve never felt this way being alone with Bucky before. You hate it. You want to snuggle up with him and have him hold you tight.
But you know that would be too annoying.
Too suffocating.
Those words echo in your head over and over again, until Bucky breaks the silence, pulling you from the spiral of your thoughts.
“Sweetheart,” Bucky mutters, reaching out to grab your hand. “Are you okay?”
“Mhm,” you smile and nod, pulling your hand from his, then scootch just a tad away from him.
“You’re just… You don’t seem like yourself lately. I’m worried, Sweets.”
“I’m fine, Buck,” you assure him, though he isn’t convinced.
“Okay,” he pauses generously before speaking up again. “Are we… okay?”
“Yeah,” you nod again, but Bucky finally builds up the courage to ask you directly what he wants.
“You’ve just been really distant lately. No more cuddles, hugs, kisses… no more movie nights or making dinner together. I’ve barely seen you this week, and I know you’re busy with Banner, but I miss you. I just… Are you… do you want to break up with me?” he asks, and your heart shatters into a million pieces.
“No, James,” you coo, finally reaching out to grab his hand again. “Not at all, Honey.”
“Then why haven’t you been as affectionate as you used to be?” he asks, voice shaking with nerves and heartbreak.
Another wave of silence washes over the room as you debate whether or not you’ll tell him the truth. You know you should, and against all the fear you’re feeling right now, you know it’s worth it to save your relationship with the sweetest man on the planet.
“I heard you talking to Sam, Bucky,” you say softly, removing your hand from his and casting your gaze to your lap.
“What, Sweets?” he asks with a small frown.
“I heard you talking… about me.”
Bucky doesn’t understand. When are you talking about? Did he accidentally butt dial you when he was with Sam tonight? Fuck technology, he thinks. What has he done?
“Tonight?” he asks nervously, but you shake your head. “Sweetheart, I’m lost. When are you talking about?” he asks, and you begin to dread having to explain to him what you overheard.
“In the kitchen. A few weeks ago. You said you needed a break,” you state, blinking to get rid of the tears that are blurring your eyes but instead one escapes, and rolls down your cheek, making your heartbreak evident to your boyfriend. “I heard you say I was too clingy. Annoying. Suffocating,” you wince as you speak the words that have been daggers in your heart since the moment you’d heard them.
Bucky’s jaw falls open and his face goes white as he watches you break down into sobs.
“Oh, (Y/n),” he sighs and shakes his head. “Oh my god. No no no,” he gathers you in his arms and kisses your head and cheeks and all over face.
“I never meant to be so clingy, Bucky. I’m sorry. They always told me I was too attached. I didn’t mean to bother you. I’m so sorry,” you sob into his chest.
“Sweetheart, no no no!” he quietly exclaims, pulling away from you and grabbing a tissue from the box in your coffee table to dry your stray tears. “I wasn’t talking about you!”
“You… you weren’t?” you ask shakily.
“No, sweet girl,” he assures you. “You could never be too clingy or too attached or too much anything. You’re perfect. I love your hugs and your cuddles and your kisses. I crave your cuddles when I’m gone away on missions. I wish I could bottle up your kisses and keep them in my pocket for whenever I need one. I love you, (Y/n),” he confesses, and your stomach floods with butterflies instead of sadness.
“I love you, too, Bucky,” you admit with a giggle through your tears, relief washing over you like a massive tidal wave.
“I’m so sorry you overheard that, and I’m so sorry you’ve been feeling that way for all these weeks,” he wraps his arms around you again, squeezing you tightly to him.
“It’s okay. I know I should have asked you sooner. I guess I just assumed the worst and I immediately shut down. I wanted to give you the space I thought you needed from me,” you whisper into the crook of his neck.
“I don’t need any space from you, Sweets,” he replies softly. “And I was most certainly not talking about you,” he reassures, then pulling away from you just enough to hold your eye contact.
“Who was it, then?” you ask hesitantly, though you know it’s not you.
“Alexis. That new recruit,” he begins, rolling his eyes, and you laugh at how annoyed he looks. “I was assigned to train her, but she’s got this weird thing for me. She gets way too close and touchy in training and continues with it even after training. I’ve asked her to stop, but she just hasn’t listened. I had to tell Sam about it; it was just getting too far,” he shakes his head.
“Oh, wow,” you frown, now feeling bad for Bucky as he’s had to deal with such unwanted contact with this recruit. “I’m sorry, Buck.”
“It’s not your fault, sweet girl,” he assures, leaning in to kiss you gently. “I just had to let Sam know. He’s gonna switch her out for someone else for me to train. Maybe even talk to Nat or someone who’s in charge of recruitment if it continues.”
“Good,” you nod and smile, eyes going wide in relief.
“Yeah,” Bucky also chuckles in relief. “I’m so glad we cleared this up."
"Me, too," you tell him. "I'm sorry for not telling you how I was feeling earlier. I feel like it would have avoided all of this."
"Probably," he laughs softly. "But I can't blame you for doing what you did. I can't imagine how you were feeling after hearing all that. I honestly didn't know what to do with myself when you started avoiding me, Sweets."
"Bucky, I'm so sorry," you give him a sad smile.
"No, I get it," he shakes his head and smiles, pulling you in closer, so much so that you're practically in his lap. "Now we just have a few weeks of cuddles to make up for, don't we?"
"Yes," you giggle as he feathers kisses to your neck and shoulders. "That we do."
"I love you so much, Sweetheart," he then whispers against your lips.
"I love you, too."
~♡~
thank you so much for reading! reblogs and feedback are so greatly appreciated and help out your fave writers more than you know 💘
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enthyrea · 11 months
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the future is useful for many things, including hobbies where u can live out your crush on your roommate/coworker
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cyberdelph · 3 months
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by @happymodok
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