blackcatner00

[blackcatner00]

I finally watch thunderbolts, which means I can finally read Bucky fanfiction again 🤭

[blackcatner00]

the collective works with the main pairing of Bucky Barnes will be in this masterlist.

⠂⠄⠄ 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄  𝑴𝑼𝑳𝑻𝑰𝑷𝑳𝑬

➺ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Multiple Pairings — 𝐅 + 𝐒 Today was the day — your birthday, but how would the many Bucky’s treat you? With a lil’ bit of nice? Or a lil’ bit of spice?

──── 𝑨 𝑻𝑶 𝑬

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑩𝑰𝑲𝑬𝑹

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Biker President!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐖 + 𝐈 + 𝐃 + 𝐊 + 𝐅 + 𝐒

The 107th motorcycle club had always and would always be the protectors of their small, charming hometown — such a responsibility required strong shoulders to uphold the weight of it all. Your venture to their town would harbour twists and turns for you to navigate, all while you became the angel on the President’s shoulder; the tips of your angelic wings tinged red by your own demons.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑩𝑶𝑫𝒀𝑮𝑼𝑨𝑹𝑫 

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐨𝐯

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Bodyguard!CW!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader x Bodyguard!Winter Soldier — 𝐀 + 𝐖 + 𝐈 + 𝐃 + 𝐏 + 𝐅 + 𝐒

A pack of wolves looked out for one another and strengthened each other, battling against the odds to keep one another safe — it was the natural order of things, the way things always worked. Being between the two most dangerous and possessive of them all meant you sat on your throne with pride; just how they wanted it.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑫𝑰𝑳𝑭

𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ DILF!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐊 + 𝐅

The forbidden fruit always tasted the sweetest; it was a tale as old as the ages, and one that you heard over a thousand times. But you never expected to have that very same temptation handed to you on a silver platter in the form of your new boss — a devilishly handsome man who was the most devoted father to his little girl. 

It was hard to stop yourself from tumbling down that cliff and into something you would have no hope of controlling, and your only saving grace? The blooming hope you held close that he would be at the bottom to catch you.

──── 𝑭 𝑻𝑶 𝑱

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑭𝑨𝑹𝑴𝑬𝑹 

𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 ‘𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Husband!Farmer!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Farmer!F!Reader — 𝐅 + 𝐒

Country lanes, critters and creatures, peaches 'n cream — your life was charmed and consumed in the bliss of living on the land and caring for the gifts bestowed upon both you and your husband, Bucky. It was a peaceful, fulfilling life, one that you could only imagine was the dream.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑼𝑩𝑼𝑺 

𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Incubus!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐅 + 𝐒

The depths of Hell had lost an asset all thanks to you ― no God in existence could save you from his sights or his clutches, and if being consumed by fire was one way to go, you supposed it would not be so bad if it came in the form of one smug, hellish bastard.

──── 𝑲 𝑻𝑶 𝑶

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑳𝑼𝑴𝑩𝑬𝑹𝑱𝑨𝑪𝑲 

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐬, 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐅 + 𝐒

Life in your small town couldn’t have gotten any better, it was a fact you held close. That was until you started to call a handsome, brooding lumberjack your best friend, and you developed butterflies at any mention of his name or a stray thought of him crossed your mind. 

Sure, it was going to be fine, you could do this. What could go wrong?

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑴𝑨𝑭𝑰𝑨 

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Mafia Boss!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐅 + 𝐒

You lay in the lap of luxury, reclining and basking in the wealth and the power it bestowed upon you to be his Prinţesă; the Queen to his King, a kitten in the jaws of a snarling wolf. 

Naturally, such a position had both bountiful rewards and harsh consequences, nothing came without a price, and Bucky would stop at nothing to protect both his Empire, and you.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑴𝑨𝑭𝑰𝑨 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑰𝑺𝑻 

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Artist!Bucky Barnes x Mafia Boss!F!Reader — 𝐅 + 𝐒

A Queen of the Underworld — among many other things — allowed for many opportunities, and the countless offerings and proposals never left you wanting. At least, that was up until you set your sights upon the quiet but intriguing best friend of your closest business partner. 

The upcoming artist with a bandwidth of impressive talent captured your whole attention. The chase began, and no one stood a chance in the path of a She Wolf pursuing her prey.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑴𝑬𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑰𝑪 

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Mechanic!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐅 + 𝐒

Cars were all the same to you: classics, imports, you name it, they were all the same, until you were forced to visit your local mechanic after a nightmare of a drive. It was that day that you saw the man that would pique your interest, not only in every single make and model of classic car that had driven on tarmac, but his charming smile; the air of righteous arrogance that flowed from his tattoos, and that damned cheeky glint in his bright eyes.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹

𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Monster!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐃 + 𝐅

The creatures of the woods varied from benevolent to lethal, deadly. Each being, a soul of its own, had a part of the greater circle – a connection to one another like the roots of the trees to the sodden soil of the earth. The balance, once upset, would lead you to be found by the Keeper, a beast so formidable that no creature dared cross its path, until it set its sights on you.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑵𝑼𝑹𝑺𝑬 

𝐀 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Nurse!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐈 + 𝐅 + 𝐒

Fate had an awfully strange way of weaving webs; connecting dots when the time was right. 

There you were, lying in a hospital bed again, and there was your favourite nurse; tall, broad, devilishly handsome, and not to mention soft, kind, and caring. Your stay, and consequently your life, just got infinitely more interesting. 

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑮𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑴𝑨𝑭𝑰𝑨 

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐭

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Alpha!Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Omega!F!Reader — 𝐅 + 𝐒

A powerful alpha locked his sights onto you, a wolf honed onto its prey — on the contrary, you were the fox that showed its belly to a predator. A mutual, foundational respect, the only thing keeping the wolf’s fangs from piercing the delicate flesh. 

You knew playing with his food was something he loved to do, and you would happily be the plaything for your mate.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑶𝑼𝑻𝑳𝑨𝑾

𝐑𝐮𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Outlaw!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐅

Legends and tales of those that roughed the open plains were whispered on the breeze through the wilderness; off of walls that held the bounds of the churches and saloons through the scattered settlements and towns. When they reached you, you paid them no mind — good men were countlessly slandered by the mouths of others, and until you could judge for yourself, you left well enough alone. 

Until one of the deadliest rogues ventured into your town and staked his claim on your unsuspecting heart. 

Not all Devils were beyond salvation. 

──── 𝑷 𝑻𝑶 𝑻

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑫𝑰𝑪 

𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐒𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐅

There was a lot to be said about your best friend, Bucky. You admired his tenacity and grit, as well as his all-encompassing adoration and love for those close to him. It didn't help the fact that you longed to be the one he stared at with such tenderness; you just missed the moments that he did.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑶𝑵𝑨𝑳 𝑻𝑹𝑨𝑰𝑵𝑬𝑹 

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Personal Trainer!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐅 + 𝐒

A choice decision landed you in the place you least wanted to be, and among the hustle and bustle of your life, you had somehow plucked up the courage to stay. It turned out to be the best decision you could have made, for walking through those double glass doors, created more opportunities than you could have expected. 

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑷𝑰𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑬 

𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Pirate!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐅 + 𝐒

The legend of The Soldat, a warship on the high seas that showed no quarter; ruthless in her anger and devastating in her destruction, chilled all that sailed the seas, and for good reason. The Captain was a bloodthirsty, savage scourge, cutting down all that stood between him and his prize. 

But deep beneath that scarred and brooding exterior, however, laid a heart so pure and intent on showing you just how precious you were to him. 

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑷𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹 

𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Pornstar!Bucky Barnes x (Innocent!)F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐅 + 𝐒

Softness was a trait you unwittingly carried — the wings of a dove took you higher and higher, elevating you in the eyes of the devil. And that devil did not want to wait any longer. It was time to collect.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑺𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹 

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Scare Actor!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐅

The ancient game of cat and mouse, a fight for survival between a predator and their prey, wasn’t a new phenomenon — it had been practised for centuries and it was an art that very, very few perfected. For years you had chased the craving to find someone that had mastered the art of the hunt, and for Halloween, you had gone all out and visited a haven unlike any other. 

It was there that you found your match. 

Cloaked in nothing but black and shrouded in a sense of lethality, you would have to run from this shadow in an adrenaline fuel haze unlike any other. A chase for the ages, the very one you desired. 

And if he caught you, your world would end as you knew it.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑬𝑬𝑻 𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑬𝑹 

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐥𝐲𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Street Racer!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐅 + 𝐒

They had many titles: Bastards of Brooklyn, The Pack — though, when it came down to it, they were a pride of beasts behind the wheel, and when their prey was targeted, there was no hope in hell to outwit, or outrun. That pride of lions had a king who was cunning, ruthless, and he had you in his sights.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑰𝑷𝑷𝑬𝑹 

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Stripper!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐅 + 𝐒

It was no wonder that both women and men flocked to the shows performed by the Howling Commandos, and it was no secret that they were all hoping for a glimpse, a peek at the elusive, enigmatic troop: Sarge. They all tried and prayed to see how the man moved on stage — his reputation well proceeded and earned.

You, however, never expected to end up right in the lap of temptation trussed up in irresistible charm and chivalry, all the while that smile...

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑻𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑶𝑶 

𝐈𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐧

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐅 + 𝐒

You were the 107th Ink's light, a never-ending ray of positivity and happiness that they couldn't be more grateful for — especially for how much you lit up Bucky Barnes, the brooding grump of a man that only smiled in your presence, Jacks and donuts aside. 

──── 𝑼 𝑻𝑶 𝒁

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂ 𝑽𝑰𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐨𝐠𝐫

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Viking!Bucky Barnes x Fae!F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐖 + 𝐃 + 𝐅 + 𝐒

The Woodland was your home, it was a place of safety and seclusion — you had liked it that way, you were free to care for the forest and the many creatures who also called it home. 

That all changed the day a Viking rode the path and ventured close, closer than any before him; bridging the gap built by your kind and his, in the most unexpected of ways. 

➺ 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐝 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐅 + 𝐒 — CO-WRITTEN WITH @buckyismybicycle All it took was one night, one song — hell, one note — and you were gone for him, hook, line, and sinker. Turbulent times lay ahead, but in the afterglow of ecstasy, forced to feel emotions in such intensity for someone you’d never expect, you couldn’t help but follow him anyway — he was irresistible, after all.

➺ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Scare Actor!Bucky Barnes — 𝐅

The ancient game of cat and mouse, a fight for survival between a predator and their prey, wasn’t a new phenomenon — it had been practised for centuries and it was an art that very, very few perfected. For years you had chased the craving to find someone that had mastered the art of the hunt, and for Halloween, you had gone all out and visited a haven unlike any other. 

It was there that you found your match. 

Cloaked in nothing but black and shrouded in a sense of lethality, you would have to run from this shadow in an adrenaline fuel haze unlike any other. A chase for the ages, the very one you desired. 

And if he caught you, your world would end as you knew it.

➺ 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Modern!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐅 Currents had pulled you under for so many years, the crash of them against your mind leaving you constantly breathless and Bucky would always pull you back up from the cruel thrashing. But now, there was a chance they’d stop.

➺ 𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Modern!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐅 The yearly tradition of a blanket fort on the 4th of July gets an upgrade.

➺ 𝐍𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐎𝐮�� ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Bucky Barnes x Agent!F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐖 Fate was cruel. Life, even more so. The pain was excruciating, well past and beyond endurance. It was just a shame there was little comfort you could give from the other side of Death’s veil.

➺ 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐊𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Modern!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐅 There were very few things that brought you as much joy as seeing Bucky smile, but this — this moment would forever be etched as one of your fondest memories, let alone his.

➺ 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Modern!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐅 “Don’t make a big deal,” Bucky said — “I have all I need right here,” he insisted. 

A shame, really, that he had thought that you had listened, and you wouldn’t make a big deal of it; he was so wrong, and he would be better off for being so, for when a paw touched your heart, it would never leave.

➺ 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Grim Reaper!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐅 Grief was no stranger to you — it ebbed and flowed with time; its currents ill-suited to travel for those who were heavily ladened with loss. That was where you came in, offering the comfort of your empathy and gift to those who remained stuck, and to those that passed on. It was how you met him, and it was how you became the light in his otherwise shadowed life.

➺ 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐲 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ TFAWS!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐒 When Bucky came home from a bad day, it was your pleasure to change that, and you took pride in making him shatter to pieces if you reaped the rewards.

➺ 𝐀 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Bucky Barnes x Makeup Artist!F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐅 It was a routine job — if you discounted the suspicious lack of information and the endless NDAs you had to sign, and you were looking forward to having a high end client. Though, what walked through the door would test every last skill you had.

➺ 𝐋𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐞 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Dragon Rider!Bucky Barnes x Dragon Rider!F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐖 It was inherently a dangerous way to live the life of a Nomad Dragon Rider — an outcast. And those very dangers would be what would tear you apart, and what would separate you from the one you trusted, the one you loved.

➺ 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞 ‘𝐧 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐞 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Husband!Baker!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Baker!F!Reader — 𝐅 Bucky had prepared a surprise for you, much to your amusement, and it wasn’t even the end of the night — a battle of wits was to be fought.

➺ 𝐀𝐧 𝐎𝐥’ 𝐅𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐎𝐟 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐲 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐅 Bucky had been away for a long, long time, and your heart ached with missing him. Although, the time apart had allowed you to plan a surprise that would rock his world once he walked back through the door of your home, and into another era.

➺ 𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Witcher!Bucky Barnes x Sorceress!F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐖 + 𝐃 + 𝐅 It had been an ordinary day — nothing amiss, nor a cause for concern, not even the sudden appearance of soldiers in the local tavern. You should have known better, however, for fate had never left you in peace.

➺ 𝐀 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐰𝐨, 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Modern!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐀 + 𝐅 They said fate worked in mysterious ways; the strings of destiny plucked and pulled and snapped at the leisure of those they controlled, but not you. The delicacy in which you handled the woven web was forever unseen and unprecedented, and your patience was to be rewarded in a way you least expected.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Drifter!Bucky Barnes x Drifter!F!Reader ➺ 𝐈'𝐦 𝐆𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧’ 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮 — 𝐅 Dancing had many forms — you were proud to say you may have been the best of the best in an unconventional discipline. Finally, fate gave you a chance to prove it, once and for all.  ➺ 𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞 — 𝐅 + 𝐒 A deal had been struck, and since you had claimed victory that day, you were more than eager to collect the reward of such a win. — 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 — 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐕𝟐

𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Modern!Bucky Barnes x Writer!F!Reader ➺ 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 — 𝐅 An ordinary, relaxing day of arriving at Bucky’s coffee shop and spending it working on a project was what you planned to do, however, a certain brunette had other ideas. ➺ 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐅 Bucky had always been willing to help you with your dreams, and it just so happened that you need to experience something first hand in order to write it effectively — it was just a shock at how far Bucky was willing to take it.

➺ 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Barista!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐅 Bucky’s cafe was a home away from home, a place where you could be happy, spend time with your two closest friends, and your favourite fluffball. You just hoped that your admission wouldn’t change a thing — at least, you had to hope it would, in the best way.

➺ 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Baker!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader — 𝐅 There were very few plans you had come up in your life with that rivalled the sheer brilliance of what you decided to do — ‘twas the belated day for it, anyway.

➺ 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 — 𝐅

➺ 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐎𝐟𝐟 — 𝐒 You came home to a sight; one that you revelled in the consequences of.

⇀  𝐃𝐁𝐅 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

⇀ 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

[blackcatner00]

Everything's Just Perfect

Character: Bucky Barnes

Requested: Yes

Type: Angst/ Fluff

Summary: You're Bucky's ex-wife and you always seem to be there whenever he needs you.

A.N: DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT THUNDERBOLTS TO BE SEMI SPOILED!!!!!!!!!

Again THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS ARE IN THIS FIC

3...2..1...

“So…” John groaned, slumping against a cracked brick wall. Blood trickled from a cut near his hairline, and ash streaked his jaw like war paint. He held up what was left of his shield — warped, twisted, folded . “What now? Because we just got annihilated.”

“No shit,” Ava muttered, spitting dust from her mouth and flicking a burned scrap of fabric from her sleeve. Her split lip had swollen, and she could feel bruises blooming across her ribs. “I say every man for themselves. Bob’s gone full horror movie. This was fun — goodbye.”

She turned into the lingering smoke, already half-vanished — until Yelena’s voice cut through like a knife.

“We can’t leave him.”

Ava stopped, shoulders stiff. “Leave who? That wasn’t Bob back there. That was... I don’t even know what that was.” She turned, folding her arms. “Definitely not the guy who saved us.”

“No,” Yelena said, voice tight. “But he’s still in there. Somewhere.”

“Unless one of you has a secret anti-god laser in your back pocket,” Ava snapped, “what exactly is your plan?”

“I don’t have one yet,” Yelena admitted, stepping forward anyway. “But we’re not leaving him. Not like this.”

Alexei groaned and collapsed dramatically onto a half-shattered bench, which cracked under his weight. “If we go back in there, I need... at least ten minutes. And a cortisone shot. Maybe a priest.” He waved a hand vaguely. “Let me stretch, drink some water, and then we finish him.”

“We’re not finishing him,” Yelena snapped, rounding on him. “We’re going to help him.”

“Oh sure,” Ava muttered. “We’ll just hug the powers out of him.”

“He ripped Bucky’s arm off like it was a doll’s toy,” Alexei added. “We go in like this, we die.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky muttered as he calmly snapped the vibranium prosthetic back into place with a click. “Happens more than you think.”

John held up his bent shield, his face still a mix of shock and mild heartbreak. “He folded it. I mean—folded it. Like paper. Do you know what kind of force it takes to bend this thing?”

Ava raised a brow. “So… not vibranium?”

“It’s vibranium-adjacent,” John muttered defensively.

Yelena didn’t even look at him. “Maybe if it was actual vibranium, it wouldn’t look like a gas station burrito.”

Alexei lit up. “I could go for a burrito. Or a taco. The ones with the cheese in the middle. Mmm. I want that now.”

John groaned. “Focus! We got curb-stomped by Bob! Bob! The shy nerdy one!"

“Yeah,” Ava said quietly, brushing ash from her arm. “He’s not shy or nerdy anymore.”

That shut them all up.

Bucky exhaled. They were beat to hell, and morale was tanking fast. But more than that, they were scared. And for good reason.

He looked at them — bruised, dirty, half-limping, yet still bickering like middle schoolers on a broken field trip — and made a decision he was definitely going to regret.

“There’s a place we can crash. It’s not far. We lay low, regroup. Heal. Then we figure out what the hell to do.”

Yelena eyed him suspiciously. “Where?”

He didn’t answer. Just turned and started walking.

The group hesitated, then followed — slow and shuffling.

A few blocks in, Ava broke the silence again, jabbing a thumb at John’s mangled shield. “So… can’t you, like, unfold it? You’ve got super strength, right?”

“I have super strength,” John snapped. “Not unfold-a-shield-bent-by-a-living-deity strength. It’s toast.”

Alexei squinted. “Is that, like… covered under warranty? Or do you have to mail it back?”

John gave him a deadpan look. “Do I look like I kept a receipt?”

“And you—” he pointed at Ava “—Ghost. Can you even do anything right now or are you just brooding professionally?”

Ava raised her brow. “I walked through a wall and saved your sorry ass five hours ago.”

“She literally did,” Yelena added, smirking.

“I-oh. Right. I forgot,” John said, flustered. “In my defense, I was the one who cut the power so she could walk through the wall.”

“How convenient,” Ava said flatly.

Their argument began escalating again — nonsense mixed with sarcasm, interrupted only by Alexei trying to convince someone to buy him tacos — until Bucky turned sharply on his heel.

“Enough.” His voice was low, tired, and just sharp enough to cut through the noise. “We’re almost there. If you keep yelling, she’s not going to open the door.”

They all stopped short.

“She?” they echoed, suspicious in unison.

“Yes. She. No more questions.” He resumed walking, jaw clenched.

Yelena sidled up next to him, grinning like a cat. “Is this a she-she, or a capital-She situation?”

“I’m not answering that.”

Alexei leaned toward John with a conspiratorial whisper. “Is she a friend-friend or a friendly friend?”

John nodded sagely. “I bet she’s way out of his league.”

“Maybe she's his girlfriend,” Yelena offered with a shrug.

“Highly doubtful,” Ava muttered.

“She’s not my—” Bucky stopped mid-sentence, face twitching. “Just... shut up. All of you. Or I will let Bob use you as a jump rope.”

They finally quieted.

The townhouse appeared as they turned the corner. It was small, tucked between a dry cleaner and an old record shop. String lights framed the little balcony, and a warm golden glow spilled from the upstairs window. Too calm. Too normal. It looked like the kind of place where people had tea and talked about their feelings — not where half-dead super-soldiers crawled in to sleep off a cosmic ass-kicking.

Bucky stopped in front of the door, hesitating. His jaw tightened as he raised his fist, his metal fist hovering before he knocked.

He hated this.

He hated that he’d brought them here — hated the pit growing in his stomach — hated that this was the only safe place he could think of. She hadn’t seen him in almost a year. Not since they separated. And now he was dragging a human dumpster fire of a team to her doorstep.

Behind him, the others bickered in hushed tones.

“Does she cook?” “I hope she has a comfy couch.” “If she has tea, I’ll marry her.”

Bucky closed his eyes. Just for a second.

He almost turned around — almost told them it was a bad idea and they should just sleep in a sewer.

But then he heard footsteps approaching the door.

Too late.

The door creaked open slowly, and there you were.

Your eyes landed on Bucky first — bruised, dirt-streaked, arm slightly disjointed, and he was holding his ribs with one hand.

“Bucky,” you breathed, barely above a whisper. Your gaze swept across him, and the flicker of worry that crossed your face was brief, but real.

Then it was gone.

“What do you want?” you asked. Not cold exactly, but not welcoming either. Just guarded.

Bucky looked down for a moment. His voice, when it came, was low. Worn. “I know I’m the last person you wanna see right now. But we need your help.”

“I don’t play superhero anymore,” you replied, arms folding as you leaned slightly against the doorframe.

“I know,” he said quickly, “I’m not asking you to suit up or anything. We just need a place to lay low. For a night. Maybe two. We got our asses handed to us like ten minutes ago.” He gestured to the group behind him, and your eyes drifted over the chaos on your porch.

“Please, doll,” he added, quieter now. “I wouldn’t have come if I had any other option.”

The silence stretched between you. He held your gaze, waiting — wounded pride barely masked beneath the plea.

Finally, you sighed, the tension in your shoulders softening. Without a word, you stepped aside and opened the door wider.

“Come in before the neighbors start watching.”

The team shuffled in, dragging in a trail of soot, broken egos, and exhaustion. Bucky paused as he stepped through, eyes flicking to the living room. It looked exactly like he remembered — warm, soft lighting, a shelf cluttered with books and candles. Homey. Safe.

Except the framed photos of you two were gone. Replaced by art. Abstract pieces. Beautiful, distant things.

Then something soft brushed against his leg.

He glanced down and froze.

A pristine white cat was weaving through his boots, its tail flicking with recognition. His expression shifted—stunned, tender.

“Hey, Alpine,” he murmured, crouching carefully. “Hi, pretty girl. I missed you.”

She meowed softly and launched into his arms, immediately purring as she burrowed into his chest. He cradled her like porcelain, one hand smoothing over her fur.

You watched from the kitchen threshold. You and Bucky had agreed Alpine would stay with you — your life was stable, his wasn’t. It had made sense. But it hadn’t been easy.

Behind Bucky, the team just… stared.

“Are you seeing this?” John whispered to Yelena.

Ava elbowed him without even looking. “Shut up.”

It was a surreal image: The Winter Soldier, dusty and battle-worn, cuddling a white fluffball like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You took in the rest of them. They were strangers, mostly. Strangers who looked like they'd crawled out of a battlefield and onto your rug.

The blonde woman leaned against the wall like it was the only thing keeping her standing. The woman in the sleek suit by the door looked cool and dangerous in equal measure. Then there was the massive man in red. He smiled and gave a little wave when your eyes met. And then there was the guy with the folded shield and the “punch-me” face.

Bucky nodded toward the group. “Uh, yeah. That’s Yelena, Ava, Alexei, and... that’s John.”

They all gave awkward waves. Alexei’s was the most enthusiastic.

You nodded politely. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

They all looked like they were one nudge away from collapsing.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” you offered.

“Water, please,” Yelena said quickly, her voice scratchy.

John raised his hand like a kid in class. “Same.”

Ava glanced at you, almost apologetic. “Do you have tea?”

“Sure. What kind?”

“Anything.”

You turned to Alexei.

“Do you have anything… stronger?” he asked, hopeful.

“How strong?”

“Very strong.”

You smirked. “Got it.” Then disappeared into the kitchen.

The moment you were out of sight, all heads turned to Bucky — still petting Alpine, who had zero plans to move.

“So…” Yelena drawled. “You and her?”

Bucky tensed like someone lit a fuse in his spine.

“Don’t,” he muttered.

John leaned closer to Ava. “There’s definitely history here. Did you see the way she looked at him?”

“She also looked like she wanted to slam the door,” Ava replied.

“She likes him,” Alexei declared confidently. “There is affection. And the cat approved. Cats never lie.”

Bucky glared at all of them. “If you value your limbs, you’ll stop talking.”

Yelena held up both hands, grinning. “Okay, okay. No shipping the grumpy soldier. Got it.”

A few moments later, you returned balancing a tray with glasses, a mug of tea, and a tumbler of something amber.

“Bucky, seriously?” you said, seeing them all still hovering like awkward ghosts. “You could’ve told them to sit down.”

He shrugged, still holding the cat like a teddy bear. “Didn’t want to break anything.”

You waved the team toward the couches. “Please. Make yourselves at home.”

John and Yelena nearly collapsed into opposite ends of the same couch. Ava leaned against a windowsill, blowing gently on her tea. Alexei sniffed his drink, took a sip, then sat upright.

“You, my dear, are an angel,” he declared reverently. “Is this whiskey?”

“Only the best for unexpected guests,” you replied dryly. “I was meal-prepping earlier,” you added, glancing over your shoulder. “I’ve got a big pot of soup if anyone’s hungry. Showers are down the hall. Towels are in the closet. Clean shirts in the basket.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

“Soup would be heavenly,” John mumbled, eyes already closing.

You gave a small smile and turned toward the kitchen again.

Bucky hesitated, gently placing Alpine down as she curled onto a throw pillow. Then he followed you, slow and quiet.

You were setting down a basket of warm dinner rolls on the table when you felt the shift in the room. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Still, you glanced over your shoulder. Bucky stood quietly near the doorway, half-shadowed by the dim kitchen light, his hands shoved in his pockets, posture stiff like he hadn’t quite decided if he should be there.

“Do you need anything?” you asked, keeping your voice steady. The soup was already simmering; your hands moved automatically to the ladle.

He offered a faint smile — the kind that didn't reach his eyes. “Thanks for letting us crash here.”

You nodded, focusing on the steam rising from the pot instead of the way your chest clenched. “You all looked like hell. Someone had to be decent.”

“Look, Y/N—”

“Bucky, don’t,” you said quickly, sharper than you meant to. You turned to face him fully, hands still holding the ladle. “You don’t have to say anything. I know why you're here. Nearest safe house. Not personal. It’s fine. Really.”

He hesitated, jaw tightening before giving a slow nod. “We’ll be out of your hair soon. Just need some rest.”

“That's fine.” You turned back to fill the bowls. “Alpine misses you.”

His voice was softer this time. “I miss her too.”

You didn't answer right away. But when the bowls were full and the bread was out, you called out toward the hallway.

“Lunch.”

A few thuds and grunts later, the rest of the group shuffled in like survivors of a disaster movie. Everyone looked slightly cleaner than when they arrived — but still bruised, bandaged, and about ten seconds from passing out.

Everyone except Bucky, who instinctively sat down in the seat next to yours.

Yelena took a spot across the table, her hands wrapped around her water. Ava perched at the end, still sipping her tea slowly. Alexei helped himself to three rolls before anyone else had time to blink.

John hovered awkwardly before finally taking a seat beside Alexei, clearly not wanting to be anywhere near Yelena again after their last round of bickering.

“And then—oh! Oh! Bob folded his shield like a freakin’ taco,” Alexei said mid-chew, nearly choking from laughter. “Just snapped it like paper!”

Yelena chuckled. Even Ava cracked a smirk.

John looked personally offended. “It’s not that funny.”

“And then—wait for it—he ripped off Bucky’s arm.” Alexei nearly doubled over at the memory.

Your spoon paused halfway to your mouth. You turned your head so fast toward Bucky, it made your hair sway.

Bucky rolled his eyes at Alexei, but when he caught your expression — real concern flickering beneath practiced calm — his demeanor softened.

“It’s fine,” he said gently, lifting the vibranium arm a little. “Reattached it without a problem.”

“Are you sure?” You were already reaching out, ignoring the way your hand trembled just slightly. You turned his arm gently, inspecting the seam where metal met flesh, eyes scanning for dents or stress damage. “Did you check everything out?”

“I’m okay,” he said, holding your gaze. You gave him a look that said you weren’t convinced. So he did something he hadn’t done in a long time. He squeezed your hand. “I promise. I’m okay.”

His eyes looked at your hand, and something flickered behind them — something like a punch to the gut. It was bare. There was no ring on her finger.

Automatically, he reached up to his chest, fingers ghosting over where the chain should’ve been.

It wasn’t there.

His stomach dropped.

Bucky’s fingers frantically searched under his collar, pulling at his shirt, then dipping into his jacket pocket. Nothing.

No. No no no.

He never took it off. Ever.

His pulse spiked as he started checking every pocket.

“Bucky?” you asked, watching him unravel. “What’s wrong?”

“The chain,” he said hoarsely. “My chain. It’s gone.”

Panic etched across his face.

At the end of the table, Yelena blinked, frowning as she slipped a hand into her coat pocket. She felt the cool weight of something metallic there — something she had shoved away mid-battle and forgotten about.

When she pulled it out, her heart skipped.

It was a chain.

And dangling from it — a simple gold wedding band.

“Holy f—” she whispered, catching herself before the full curse slipped. “Holy shit.”

Everyone turned to look.

Bucky’s head snapped up.

She held the chain in her open palm like it was glowing. “This is yours.”

He surged forward before she could say another word and plucked it from her hand like it was oxygen. His breath shuddered as he slipped it back over his neck, the ring resting once again near his heart.

Relief washed over his features — raw and unfiltered.

Your eyes locked with his.

“You still have it,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Your hand brushed your ring finger again, almost absentmindedly.

“I—I…” Bucky swallowed hard, words failing. His throat felt too tight.

Alexei broke the silence like a sledgehammer. “Wait—you’re married?! Congratulations!” he bellowed, raising his glass. “That’s adorable.”

Bucky flinched like he'd been shot.

The silence that followed was very loud.

He looked at you again — the weight of everything unspoken between you crashing back in all at once — then abruptly stood.

He didn’t say anything.

He just left the room, Alpine trailing after him as the others watched, stunned.

“Did I…” Alexei frowned. “Did I say something wrong? Is that not a wedding ring?”

Yelena sighed, rubbing her temple. “We’re gonna need way more soup.”

“Uh… we’re not married anymore,” you whispered, and the air in the room seemed to shift.

Everyone went quiet. You could feel the weight of their stares settle on you like a spotlight, but you didn’t look back. You just stood, heart pounding, and walked out of the room — your feet already knowing where to go.

Of course you knew where he was.

You and Bucky had lived in this house together for two years before everything fell apart. The bones of the place hadn’t changed — not the layout, not the memories buried in each room. And especially not the basement.

You made your way downstairs, the air cooler, quieter. The moment your foot hit the last step, he spoke.

“You kept everything the same,” Bucky said, his voice low but clear. He didn’t even need to turn around to know it was you.

You crossed the room and slowly sat next to him on the old couch, the one you both used to fall asleep on watching bad movies. The cushions were still slightly sunken on his side.

“Of course,” you replied, your voice gentle. “It was our home. It felt wrong moving your things…changing your designs.”

Silence filled the space between you. Not heavy — just full. The muffled sound of the team arguing upstairs drifted down: something about dishes, someone calling someone a jackass.

“They’re a good bunch,” you murmured. “Very entertaining, too.”

Bucky let out a quiet, tired laugh. “Yeah. I know.”

Your eyes drifted to the chain around his neck — barely visible, but there.

“You kept the ring,” you said softly, watching him tense just slightly.

He nodded slowly, the admission coming with a quiet sigh. “Yeah. I did.”

“Why?”

He finally turned to face you, eyes tired but sincere. “It helps me. Grounds me. I didn’t have much left to fight for after Steve left. But then there was you. And that ring… it gave me comfort. Protection, in a weird way. It became my good luck charm. I couldn’t get rid of it after the divorce. I didn’t want to.”

You felt your chest tighten, but you gave him a small, sad smile. “So you’ve been wearing it around your neck this whole time?”

He nodded again, this time more slowly. “Every damn day,” he admitted, dragging a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t take it off. It’s stupid, I know. Makes me look like a fool.”

You shook your head and stood up, walking to the cabinet on the far wall. He watched you with guarded curiosity as you pulled out a small, velvet box and returned to the couch.

“You’re not a fool,” you said gently. You opened the box and held it out to him. “I couldn’t get rid of mine either. Every time I tried, it felt wrong, like throwing away something sacred."

His gaze dropped to the ring in your fingers, and his throat tightened. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet yours again.

“I really wanted our marriage to work,” he said, the words coming out like a confession.

“I know you did.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

“I know you are.” You reached for his hand and held it. It still felt the same — steady, calloused, familiar. “You needed to find yourself, Buck. I should’ve understood. Everything was changing so fast. Steve died. Sam had the shield. Walker was Captain America for a minute. And then… you got into politics. You’re actually a congressman now.”

He let out a breath that was half-scoff, half-laugh.

“I couldn’t keep up,” you continued. “And that was on me.”

“No. It was on me,” he said firmly. “I didn’t prioritize your feelings. I kept shutting you out — thinking I was protecting you. You were right to divorce me. I wasn’t a good husband.”

You looked at him — really looked at him — and shook your head.

“Bucky, no. You were an amazing husband. You just had things to work through. And I pushed myself aside instead of speaking up.”

You leaned in and wrapped your arms around him. The embrace felt effortless. Like no time had passed.

His arms went around you instantly, like they never forgot how.

“I’m also sorry,” you whispered.

Bucky’s laugh was soft and bitter. “What the hell happened to us?”

“I don’t really know,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. “But I missed you.”

“I missed you more.” He pressed his face into your shoulder, inhaling like he needed the scent of you to survive. Alpine purred softly at your feet, curling between your legs.

And for a while, it was enough.

Peaceful. Quiet. Just the two of you and the cat you shared, back in a place that still remembered love.

And then—

CRASH.

You both jumped slightly at the loud clatter upstairs.

“Did you seriously just break their bowl?” John’s voice rang out, horrified.

“Well, if you think you can do better, then help me wash the dishes, Walker!” Ava snapped back.

You giggled, forehead still resting against Bucky’s shoulder. “We should go before they break more of our dishes.”

He smiled — a real one, one that reached his eyes. It lit up something in him when you said our. He tightened his hold. “A few more minutes. They’ll survive.”

You didn’t argue.

And without meaning to, both of you drifted off, curled into each other like no time had passed at all.

********

“This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Shut up, Alexei. You’re being too loud.”

“We should wake him up, though. We haven’t even talked strategy.”

“We can’t. Look at them.”

“They look like a cute, happy family.”

“We should take a picture.”

The shutter sound was loud in the quiet room, with the flash blinding all of them.

Bucky blinked awake, eyes adjusting slowly. There was warmth on his lap — Alpine, purring softly. And in his arms, still tucked close, was you.

For a second, he didn’t move.

This was what peace felt like. This was home.

“You woke him up,” Yelena hissed. “Seriously, Dad, turn off the flash and the sound!”

Bucky looked at them — bleary-eyed and still half-asleep — and his expression dropped into something flat and dangerous.

“I’m going to give you ten seconds to leave,” he said calmly, voice low and sharp as a blade. “And if you don’t… Bob will be the least of your problems.”

The team scrambled out of the room like they’d seen a ghost.

He sighed, then looked back down at you — just as you stirred.

You blinked yourself awake slowly, eyes meeting his. He braced himself, just for a second, wondering if you’d pull away. Regret it. Pretend none of it happened.

But you didn’t.

You just smiled sleepily, and snuggled closer.

“Is everything okay?” you murmured, reaching over to pat Alpine, who purred louder.

“Everything’s just perfect,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And for once, maybe for the first time in forever, Bucky believed that was true.

[blackcatner00]

Last golden thoughts

Bucky Barnes x fem!exwife reader

*follows the original thunderbolts plot line and thunderbolts!Bucky

Warnings: minor spoilers, mild swearing, angst?

Word count: 4.7k+

summary: Congressman Barnes’ marriage did not end for the better only for his paths to cross again with his ‘wife’ in the most unpleasant fashion where he last expected her to be

an: you guys went crazy over this so I had to finish this in two days we are sooooooo back

—

​As red guardian’s fancy, gaudy and however bulletproof-ish limousine made a flip at Bucky’s detonator. The relieved group of delinquents inside were overcome with shock, bracing themselves for the fall, gripping handles tightly as the surprisingly present airbags opened in their faces. Ghost was the first one out evidently being more equipped to exit in the blink of an eye. Others fell with a thud a collective ache in everyone’s joints, groaning trying to find their way out ever so impatiently. Ghost broke the door open as Bucky was getting closer. In the front seat red guardian needed most strength to be extracted out of the vehicle.

By then Bucky had reached with a task at hand, Ava and Yelena focused more on trying to get red guardian out, “Not cool man” Alexei said in his heavy accent to the long haired who they’d assumed was here to help them.

With a swift tug with his metal arm Bucky pulled the backseat door right off its hinges, before he could lean John was already on his way out, the person following John out made his eyes widen. “You?!” He exclaimed putting his hands on her shoulders instinctively but she brushed him off and got out herself. “Have you lost your mind?! Don’t tell me you were in the goddamn vault with these-“

Standing up on her feet instantly, trying to regain balance given her vision was a bit dizzy after going through a flipping car. “You lunatic-“ she lunged at him but she was still evidently dizzy and had weak steps, he easily dodged. “You could have gotten us all killed!”

“Stop, stop!” Bucky’s hands were surprisingly of a gentle grip on her shoulders yet again, wanting her to find her footing again. “Are you alright?” He asked scanning for major injuries, if he had known she was in the car he would approached in a way less reckless way.

“Get off of me-!” Taken aback by his might to just downplay the weight of the situation, falling into old habits like they were getting reunited or something.

“Husband mode eh?” Alexei commented with a snicker, Bucky took it well, someone else didn’t.

“He’s not my husband!” She barked almost instantly and pushed Bucky even further, even after he’d let go off her shoulders.

Another truck circled around them, “With me” Bucky told them expecting them to follow without much resistance was really some heavy wishful thinking.

The red guardian was already walking, a lot of faith in the metal armed man when Yelana stoped him by his arm, “And why should we just follow you after you crashed us?”

“Bucky you do realise you could get years for attempted murder on captain America-“ Jon was stopped mid sentence by the others taking an offence at him calling himself captain America and less bothered by the attempted murder.

“You were all being chased by trucks with machine guns and I’m sure more are on the way. This is the middle of nowhere if you have better options than getting in the truck you’re all very welcome to do so” Bucky said crossing his arms, the truck driver probably one of bucky’s favour agents got on his bike and left the truck for him.

Red guardian was the first to pitch in to agree with him, Yelena and Ava had their suspicions. “It’s the worse of two I suppose” Ava said with a sigh.

“It’s not like you have anything on us and we outnumber you so there’s that.” Yelana started walking as the rest followed, no obvious threat so far.

“If it’s our help you need Bucky you know you can just ask.” Walker said with his ever high confidence in himself, it never fails to be less staggering.

“Are you people actually considering this?!” Y/n was the only one who stayed put in her place not trusting everyone’s and especially bucky’s instincts to follow him into god knows where, “We can’t trust this man-“

“‘This man’ honey? Really?” Bucky quoted her absolute disregard for their history like he was some stranger she detested so much. He wasn’t walking back to the truck either, well aware of stubborn she was he was ready to let this play out for a while and eventually take matters, her, quite literally into his own hands.

“Don’t call me that!” The disgust on her face was as though he had committed at atrocity, the others had already started accommodating themselves in the truck for her to get her point across.

“You know all this anger really isn’t good for your health.” He told her, leaning a bit forward and she stiffened.

“You know what would be good for you? Letting me be” she told him uncrossing her arms and the last of her ‘loser’fest team were already walking into the truck.

“Why would you get yourself into this mess? You know you are better than this and please don’t tell me you were in the vault” it felt so natural to fall back into old habits for Bucky. The soft scolding with an undertone of concern and frustration. He didn’t miss this feeling of dread that he was yet again so close to losing her but he was grasping at straws into conversations with her, after the divorce she had blocked his number, locked their old apartment just recently because he kept finding reasons to visit her over and over. Even stopped all streaming subscriptions he couldn’t even work through without her so if this was the conversation he could make he’d take what he can get.

“You are the last person I’m answerable to.” She clarified him losing his keeping tabs privileges on her as their marriage fell. It was the least pleasant feeling to be harsh against anyone, even him, despite of what he did. But if it she acted even a bit less colder it would give him hope to no end. So she kept it up and walked across him, he stayed unmoving from her way and her shoulder brushed his somewhat rudely she didn’t even account it. He felt good about her casually striding against him as if his touch didn’t repel her anymore. Idiot.

Before she could climb into the back of the truck with the rest of them he stopped her getting inside himself first and swiftly started cuffing everyone, “hey what the hell” Yelena said struggling against him but those high tech binds were so swift she couldn’t retaliate in enough time.

“Come on Bucky you know me is this really necessary?” John scoffed trying to break free of the cuffs but or was no use.

“She was right” Ava said nodding at the woman standing outside the truck unfazed Bucky would pull this, trying to make the run for it into ghost mode but the cuffs kept her hands in place so she couldn’t even move forward in her projecting form.

“You, in the front” Bucky said looking back at her and she obviously defied it.

“Why?” She scoffed not wanting to walk into his plan after he literally cuffed all her acquaintances. “We are not your little evidential gifts against Valentina”

“She did try to kill you all” Red guardian chimed in as Yelena nodded about the fact.

“It doesn’t align with our principles if he is the one who turns us in, we could do it ourselves” the fact that ‘Congressman Barnes’ would get all credit for brining Valentina’s assets in after they risked their lives to get out really didn’t sit right with her.

“Why would we turn ourselves in at all?” Ava questioned not really into the idea of getting under oath whatsoever.

“Exactly. It is up to us what we decide not him” So glad the others saw her point at least now, despite of walking into getting themselves tied up.

“It really isn’t” he shrugged and pointed to another one of automobiles from vault’s base at a far distance. “Say no and I’d leave you all here to fend for yourself.” No one but her would be ready to call his bluff. He knew that she knew that too well that he would rather fight off nearly everyone in that truck than put her in harm’s way but he had to convince the others somehow and it seemed to work well enough as he got out of the back container to get into the driver’s seat.

“Why doesn’t she get tied up?” John questioned as she had to walk to the passenger seat on Bucky’s uncalled for demand.

“She is the missus!” Red guardian said stating the obvious and a shrug, already under the cool influence of Bucky to question it.

“They’re divorced” John pointed out

“Doesn’t seem like it was mutual” Yelena commented gaining a snicker from Alexei.

-

In the front, looking out the window as Bucky pushed it on the accelerator, “Where are we going?”

“New York” he answered her without much debate or resistance, if he were to recall there was never a time he could lie to her. He would never want to.

She didn’t have much questions to ask because she didn’t want to give answers to the ones he would ask back, not without consulting the rest anyways. Besides she would rather turn herself in than to afford another conversation with him. With a heavy sigh she looked out the window crossing her arms.

He looked in her direction, eyes softening despite the gravity of the situation they were in. The exhaust on her face was evident, “There are some pain killers in the cabinet.” He told her.

No response for her equated to her disinterest in taking them, he knew she hated any sort of antibiotics or meds just to push through her pain but it was worth the shot, as stubborn as she was he hates her open wounds. He opened the cabinet and got out the patching kit, whilst his other hand was still on the steering wheel. He opened the pack between his teeth and applied antiseptic on the patches, without asking he put it on her forehead where she’s seemed to have taken a bad hit. “Ow” she grumbled in pain but needless to say it was a required patchwork for the bleeding. “I’ve got it” she said taking it from his hand on her forehead into her own.

Her palms against his arm…he hadn’t felt it in so long. His hand was much larger in her comparison he’d always noted that. Being reminded of that again made him want to intertwine his fingers in hers and hope she could undo every moment he had to be away from her.

Eventually he took his hand away and put it on the driving clutch, even though it wasn’t a manual drive, he just couldn’t contain the life coursing through him after her hands touched him against. It’s these minuscule of interactions with her that gave him so much purpose. At first when he saw her in the flipped car he felt awful she was here in the first place but now he has her right next to him on the road to New York and he feels bad for wishing the miles are longer than they usually are.

“Hey this is not a manual drive” she was quick to pick that up when he didn’t take his hand off the clutch for a while being lost in thought, unrecovered from her touch.

“Oh” he nodded taking his hand off and back to the steering, “I know” he had to shift the conversation “You practised on our old manual when you were renewing your license right?”

“Your old manual was a good car” she said emphasising on ‘your’ given the fall out.

“I wonder why we let it go.” He was left bemused trying to remember what was the reason to let it go given it wasn’t a bad car.

“You wanted to let it go because it was taking up too much space in the garage after the engine got way too old to be repaired” She reminded him thinking back to it now, it had become an old junk but the two of them held onto it for quite a while. Working on it on the weekends, basically he’d work on it and she would keep the conversation. She had a joke that Bucky was pursuing his abandoned mechanic dream every weekend on that car, that black sleeveless vest top laying his biceps all bare and as hot as he was working on the engine she hated the grime and the smell of automobile oil, he would purposely encage her between his arms and kiss her all over, then shower together later. Snap out of it.

“Had a good run with it, it even had a cassette player system” Bucky looked at her but she wasn’t looking back at him. Clearing her throat she shifted in her seat, they got rid of that car before they had a conversation of getting rid of their marriage but maybe the forthcoming was evident.

“It didn’t have that you modified it that way because we had a lot of cassettes between us” she corrected him as her lips curled into a small smile.

“Oh right” he nodded mirroring her smile, it just happened with him involuntarily every time she smiled and this was his first time in a while. “I think I lost some from my set, I maybe have 10-12 tapes left which is crazy given my set had about a 100”

“How would you lose them you never took them out of the house?” She asked with a faux confused look on her face.

“Exactly! It’s like they just vanished” he told her shaking his head, “I think the house needs a bit going over for me to find them”

Just humming in response she leaned back in the seat as the two fell into silence again, it wasn’t comfortable but it wasn’t awkward either. Nostalgia was often ugly. Their minds were going through ugly sweet things, Bucky’s mind wasn’t going through nostalgia it was in its usual state: consistent reminiscing of their marriage. In his life he didn’t have much things to lose in the first place except for her, she was the last golden thoughts he could have before he’d sleep and the first before he’d wake up all day, everyday. He didn’t have much to think back to fondly but it changed when she walked out of his life.

As he drove through the terrains, glancing through both the side view mirrors then back at her, she had fallen asleep. Leaning against the window, her eyes closed with a completely serene expression on her face he hadn’t seen in so long. She had actually fallen asleep around him. The scene had a strange intimacy to him, the fact that her mind still considered him safe enough to fall asleep around. Even after all dodged calls and messages, all the get-outs, changing her ways to not come across him in the city, telling everyone her mistrust in ‘this man’ yet she could fall asleep with him at the wheel just like the old times.

When they reached the abandoned safe house Bucky didn’t deem it proper to wake her up when she was already so exhausted. The others tied up and over explaining the Bob situation did not let her absence go unnoticed “What did you do with her?!” Ava asked, high suspicions it wasn’t good.

“We should have listened when she told us to be careful about you, he probably left her back there” Yelena said with a scoff, such a decorated man stooping so low.

“Woah woah” Bucky was crazed at the fact that these people assumed that he would hurt her, of all people. “She is still in the truck, she was sleeping very soundly so I didn’t want to wake her up.”

The red guardian snickered, “A real lover!” He commented in a positive way.

“Grow a pair, Bucky” John scoffed leaning against his binds, the man was on the phone for a while and would’ve happily disregarded Walked’s comments anyways.

“Are you like the podcast men?” Alexei asked facing Walker.

“—What does that mean?”

“Toxic masculinity, not good, insecure—bad just bad, are you them?” Alexei listed off his

very accurate descriptions of men who run podcasts.

“Men who run podcasts aren’t all that” Walker said rolling his eyes at the man’s poor judgement of those guys. “Besides Bucky is not a real lover, he’s freshly divorced”

“Do you not see the wedding ring?” Alexei asked nudging in bucky’s direction, the thick gold band was hard to miss: by anyone.

“Probably just wears it because it’s real gold or something” which was a bit ironic because even as a separated husband he didn’t have one on.

“On his wedding finger?” Ava asked raising a brow as she indulged in the divorce too, tied up they had nothing better to talk about.

Before Yelena could pitch in her two cents too, Bucky got off the phone and started freeing the set of ‘thunderbolts’ out of their ties. Giving them a brief explanation of wanting to help Bob they were all on board, as they headed back down to the truck, it was empty. The back and the front, the highly trained ex assassin went full into visible panic mode with her out of sight. A specific drop of his heart only her absence could cause him to feel.

It was difficult trying to explain to the bunch of all-of-a-sudden-ride-or-dies god knows where she picked up from, that her husband of three years and counting with a small bump of divorce of four months would be the last person in this world to hurt her. However difficult it was he managed to get his point across and decided they were off to a detour before getting to Valentina’s HQs.

Once they loaded back in the truck he drove with determination to get where he had deduced he would find her. Their old apartment, she kept her original gear there. If there was one thing he knew about her she was to never back down from a fight, however big and impossible. That had been his biggest fright throughout their marriage, not a single bone in his body had moved on from.

Bucky thought he could fetch her back down himself but he thought wrong, apparently they did not trust him with her so all or thunderbolts went up the six story building. As expected the door was open, “How many times have I told you to keep this locked?” It really wasn’t difficult to fall back into old habits. Always leaving in a hurry, always forgetting to lock doors. He thought to himself but it wasn’t just about locking the door when he hoped the door was open.

“Again?!” She exclaimed walking out of the bedroom into the living fixing the belts around her gear, her old gear. The most trusted one. It was a superstition of hers really, Bucky knew it affected nothing no combat flexibility or space…it was just old. “How did you all not manage to lose him?”

“We didn’t know if you left or he did something” Ava filled her in about her doubting their capabilities to lose Bucky by choice.

“He wouldn’t.”

“—I wouldn’t!”

Both of them said at the same time.

To avert the sync she refocused on strapping her knives into her suit, in all places and possible belt gaps. “Hey, is that mine?” Bucky’s attention went to the set of two in her hands she was about to fixate.

“No it’s not.” Caught, she hurriedly tried to wrap it in her suit.

“Yes it is, those are mine!” He huffed; it had been a long while since he had to be in a position where he would need all his knives but he remembers and counts all the ones he’s had and he knew exactly which ones were missing, surprisingly right after the divorce. “That set is a wedding gift from Sam if I remember correctly!”

“Exactly! It was my wedding too I can keep them!” She stood her ground, well aware it was a set of two, one for him&her type but it was too beautiful to break the set and she wanted both those knives. He hadn’t noticed it this entire time.

“You don’t get to keep them both I get to keep one.” He argued, validly so. “I can’t believe you just took these both with you letting me know once”

“You never asked! All this time you kept coming at my place for the pillow covers, cushions-literally last month you knocked on my door because you thought I took the tv remote with me! You never asked about these” she pointed at the knives and somewhere along the lines both of them knew Bucky was just finding reasons to see her again and she was allowing it too.

“Wow” Yelena commented at the desperate measure. Given the time they were short on this bickering was too intresting to be stopped abruptly.

In the haste to keep the knives to herself in her suit dropped it, giving Bucky the leverage to pick it up and examine it. He bent down to get it and found stored cassettes in the coffee table. “You have got to be kidding me!” He exclaimed frustrated as he got out all the cassettes, he thought were missing. “You had these the whole time?!”

“—I must have packed them by mistake when I moved out” she shrugged trying to downplay how purposeful it was but he saw through it.

“These are all my classics, you didn’t even ask me before taking them in the settlement?!” Bucky huffed going through the tapes.

Cursing under her breath she face palmed herself, for some reason this day was getting way too long. “Look I know the divorce agreement never said-“

“I didn’t even read that” Bucky scoffed shuffling through the tapes he thought he had ‘lost.’

“You signed it without reading?” Surprised she raised her brows.

He put the box down on the coffee table and nodded with a shrug, making a mental note that he will come by at her place over and over for all the tapes and not just take them altogether. There were around 93 tapes in there which belonged to him. 93 excuses to see her. “It was you, I just trust you.”

“See!” Alexei cackled giving Walker a big pat on his back for being right about the lovers fact. “Very silver springs”

“Silver springs?” Yelena asked raising her brows at the refrence.

“Like the song.” Alexei spoke with his thick accent ‘Like zhe songh’ “Never get away from the sound of a woman that loved you” he even relayed the lyrics from the group, Ava nodding at the obvious relation.

“He still wears the wedding ring though” Yelena pointed out trying to frame the dynamics of who’s who for the song reference.

“He would be Stevie Nicks.” Ava clarified stating the obvious as Alexei smiled wide at her, nothing like someone getting the perfect reference.

“What the hell?” The ex wife in question did not take that insult lightly, she didn’t point it out all these months why he still kept wearing the wedding ring. “Real good manipulation tactics, Congressman Barnes.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” Bucky exclaimed unsure how he got under the bus even though the Silver Springs refrence say very right with him. Eire how that refrence came up when no one knew he’s been having sessions of that song in his car ever since she left.

“You need to take off that wedding ring and the whole oh-she-left-me boo hoo theatrics like it wasn’t a mutual decision!” She let out unable to keep it in after these months of heartbroken yet preserving congressman Barnes, all the press issues.

“You know it wasn’t.” Bucky shot back, “I just didn’t want to you to work for Valentina and look what you’re gearing up for! The woman who tried to incinerate you!”

“It was a miscalculation of the job I took up and I got myself alive out of that” it was so frustrating trying to debate this again.

“You chose working for her over me! Over our marriage!” Bucky’s voice grew a bit louder than when he said before and the others just witnessed this break out awkwardly.

“Shouldn’t we let them have this conversation privately?” John muttered looking for the cue to exit this scene.

“No.” Alexei, regardless of his fanboy tendencies towards Barnes, he was somewhat interested in witnessing this, he was the least tensed person in the room. Ava and Yelena didn’t want to exit for the sake of interjecting just in case.

“No I chose a life you couldn’t dictate!” She cried out just as intensely as his voice. “And do not put this on me as if you don’t know what you did.”

“I saved your life that day. Just like today.” Bucky said in a lower voice flatly. Very unbothered and cold to the notion of saving her life, it was such a given to him. She would put herself in such situations and he would just have to make do. Reckless with not much thought but he could always rely on himself to keep that head over her shoulder.

“You put me in danger that day!” The agony in her voice was so evident, “You let me work on that assignment for months and on the final day—you leaked my coordinates on purpose so that Congressmen Barnes can have the best packet, you wanted to Valentina dragged to court and you got that at my expense.”

Putting his arms on his hips; taking in a deep breath. It was planned yes, he gave the feds her location for the OXE group mission she was put on, he could have told her to never take up the job but it had already led to so many countless fights. She had helped him through his electoral campaigns, supported him through it all but it just wasn’t the right fit for her. Combat was all she had known life to be so far, so her let her have her gigs. However he didn’t realise she could also work for Valentina without much thought and by the time he could pitch in she had already accepted the joke. He could have stopped it then too, but he didn’t. There was a bigger gig for him in it, exposing his wife’s secret assignment is how he got Valentina into impeachment proceedings.

Bucky wasn’t proud of keeping it a secret from her the entire time she was working on that assignment but it didn’t prove to be non fruitful, “I am the one who had to bear the expense of you leaving because you didn’t have it in yourself to stay, you just ran. Like a coward. Like always.”

That was a poke at a really old wound, she wasn’t a habitual leaver but at times when stuff got emotionally thick her fight or flight response was not fight. The first time, before they were even together…she always stayed away and distant and after their job was done, Sam upholding the shield. She just left. Leaving everything between Bucky and herself to be unsaid and be lost in fragments of season he just went after her, got the girl and the resr was history. Wretched, domestic, sad, far, a marriage in their history. However she couldn’t stomach that, “You piece of shit-!” She lunged at him full force and he barely held up his defence. More than happy for her to have at it.

“Woah woah woah” Walker spoke as chaos erupted in the small living room itself, not even out in the field yet.

Yelena got a hold of her however Ava wasn’t into the idea of not letting her get her frustration out, Alexei pulled back away, “We are the thunderbolts. Thunderbolts don’t fight ourselves. Not like this.” He said as the fight seemed to break.

“I am no teammates with any of you, especially that man!“ anger still coursing through her she pointed at Bucky as Yelena kept swaying her farther.

“Yeah yeah I think he gets it” Yelena tried to soothe her anger down so he could move on from this outburst.

“Can we just move on with the task at hand?” Before John could even finish that sentence Bucky was walking out the apartment broodingly, slamming the door open out of his way.

She stayed in her place taking in a few deep breaths in order to process it fast enough as everyone left, Yelena stayed with her, nodding off to red guardian in a small look that said ‘I’ve got her.’ “You okay?”

“-Yeah…let’s just get going.”

-

Please let me know if this story is a drag…for some reason it seemed better in my head than this! Regardless tune in for final two if you liked it! ;)

tags: @blowingbarnes @pattiemac1 @scrumptiousloser @suffragette-cities @toaster-fork @accoochtrement @forthelovelyheart @western-nightss @itsmeamysworld @taniamunson @dakota-rain666 @seventeen-x @bvckys-doll

[blackcatner00]

stick to me, like caramel

Retired!Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Summary: Sergeant Barnes has retired, and moved as far away as possible from the superhero life. He’s still in touch with some of his friends, but he never asks them to visit. Nor does he ever leave the quaint, warm small town he’s found himself in, or the spacious home he has, nestled between mountains and dense pine woods. Bucky lives a quiet life, away from danger, guns and bullets, aliens and wizards, and all the other noises. He likes it here. It’s calm, nice, and quiet. Nothing stresses him out, nothing bothers him. Nothing, except a certain neighbour of his. She torments him, in the best ways. And Bucky’s not sure how long he can resist her. 

Themes: age gap (I mean he’s a century old), smut, mild primal play, FLUFF, mild degrading kink, angst, soft!bucky, mild praise kink, HEA 

Keep walking. Keep walking. Keep walking. 

He chanted in his head as he walked down the almost empty road, the sun was gonna set soon and most people were all inside their cosy homes, the elder ones at least. The young people hung out mostly in parking lots, or they drove up the mountains. So, not many people about. Which was one of the many reasons he decided to spend his retirement here. The roads were always empty at this time, and Bucky liked silent, long walks during sunset hours. 

It calmed him down. That was it. No other reason. Of course he didn’t go on walks at this specific time just so he would run into you. Of course he didn’t choose this specific road for his daily walks only because this was where your little bookstore was situated. And of course he didn’t pick this exact time to go on his walks only because he knows this is also the time when you close up your store and walk home – completely unbeknownst to the fact that Bucky frequently followed you from a distance, making sure you got home safe. 

Okay, it sounded a little stalker-ish. But he didn’t mean any harm. Plus he lived right next to you. Granted there was a little uphill walk from your house to his, but still. He was bound to take the same path anyway. 

He didn’t even know when exactly this little infatuation stemmed out of nowhere. Perhaps it happened on the very first day, when he woke up in the morning and stepped out on his balcony to take in the breathtaking view of the foggy woods, the rich veridian pine trees, the dark mountains, the rain clouds, when he suddenly spotted a bright red spot moving along the edge of the woods not far from his home. Bucky squinted and a few moments later realised he was staring at a young woman, wearing a red coat, who was frolicking about, picking flowers. 

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the mundane task. It was peaceful to watch, so he kept watching until he noticed the woman was making her way back. He watched as she got closer and closer, until she stopped, looked up right at him, and waved. 

Bucky waved back awkwardly, only then realising that the woman he’d been spying on was his next door neighbour. That was the first time Bucky saw you. And ever since, you’d been basically living in his head. 

His little crush on you only got worse when, by the end of his first week since moving there, you showed up at his door and brought him a basket filled with all sorts of baked goods, muffins and cookies, which smelled divine. Bucky accepted the basket a little clumsily because he was nervous, and made small talk but really, he was freaking out because you were even more beautiful up close. 

“I’m your neighbour!” You announced, smiling up at him. Again, wearing that lovely red coat. Your hood was down this time though. 

Bucky nodded, smiling sheepishly, “Yeah, I saw you the other day.” 

You turned and pointed at one area not far from Bucky’s property, “The edible flowers I love grow around there, and I usually pick them in the morning.” 

Edible flowers. He didn’t care what you were doing there. Picking flowers or worshipping at the altar of some ancient deity. All he cared about was that you were here talking to him. “I see.” 

“I use them in my baking, my customers love them!” 

Well he was thankful that his lack of social and communication skills hadn’t scared you off just yet. But also, customers? “Customers?” He questioned. 

“I own the only bookstore in this little town.” You said proudly. “Not many readers though, I’m afraid.” You chuckled, “So I bribe them with muffins, cookies, and tea.” You explained, “Stop by sometime, I’d love to show you around!” 

Bookstore. Muffins. Cookies. Tea. Pretty girl. Retirement wasn’t so bad afterall. “I’ll… I’ll make sure to visit soon.” 

He never did. 

But he did watch you from a distance ever since that day. It was weird at first, but then it became part of his normal. Knowing what time you were up and about upon noticing the smoke that came out of the chimney of your home – which was a beautiful, old, rustic, wood and stone house. He’d heard from one of the kind old men at the pub that the house belonged to your grandma before she passed. She left it to you in the will. 

Other older folks at the pub told him more about you. How you had no family members around. Some estranged siblings but they were out of the picture, and who knows where in the world. Your parents were not in the picture either. Some even said that your late grandmother had left you all her money, which was why your entire family envied you and shunned you out basically.

His heart broke a little when he heard that. Sweet girl like you deserved nothing less than a loving family. But you had friends. He often saw you out and about, at stores, at the diner or restaurants for brunch, at coffee shops, at the florist, always surrounded by a group of giggling women. 

Other details he found out on his own the more he spied on you. Like how you had your own little walled garden in your seemingly endless backyard, growing your own vegetables and herbs. 

He knew what time you left to go open up your store each morning because he would always hear you yell in a cheery voice, ‘Bye, House!’ whenever you stepped out of your metal gates. 

He knew that you often left out food for wild bunnies to come eat in your backyard. He knew exactly on which days of the week you went into the woods to get those edible flowers. He knew what time you got home, he knew all your favourite songs because you would play them often in your kitchen and his super soldier hearing would pick it up easily. 

He knew so much about you, yet so little. He wanted to know more, but he was always so nervous to step into your bookstore and talk to you. Or, on the rare occasions when he found himself at the grocery store at the same time as you, he’d get out of there so fast it was almost funny. 

He was well above a hundred years old, stronger than the average male on this planet, and yet his cute neighbour made him weaker than anything ever had. There was a time, lifetimes ago, when flirting with a pretty girl came naturally to him. But now�� he was a different man. So he decided he’d only watch you from a distance. And yearn. And pine. And long for your attention. 

He thought he’d spend the rest of his days being tormented by the sound, the sight, and the mere thoughts of you. Always watching from far away, never being brave enough to reach out. 

But things changed that one day you reached out. 

Bucky was in his backyard, building himself a new shelf. He needed one for his kitchen. All those years, he’d survived in empty, temporary houses and apartments. But now, this was much more permanent and he wanted it to feel like home. So he needed things. Lots of things. Like furniture. But he hated shopping for them. So since he was surrounded by a seemingly endless forest, containing lots of wood he could use, he decided to make himself useful and build his own stuff. 

So far he’d built himself a couple of chairs, a coffee table, two bedside tables, and now he found himself in need of a nice shelf for his kitchen. So there he was, being a lumberjack for the day, when he heard his doorbell ringing. 

Bucky knew immediately who it must be. 

You. 

He dropped his axe, and tried to get all the sawdust off him while he marched towards his front door. His heart only skipping a beat or two as he opened his door and found you standing on the other side of it, looking as cheerful as ever. 

“Hello, neighbour.” You greeted him. Not wearing your pretty red coat this time he noticed. 

“Hey,” He said, sounding more stoic than he intended. 

You quickly explained why you were at his doorstep so late in the evening. Behind you, the sun was setting and it was getting rather dark. “The heater in my living room isn’t working well. I was wondering if you could come check it out for me.” 

Bucky wasted no time in saying, “Sure.” 

Then he followed you to your house. 

He had always admired your house’s exterior. The slate grey stone, the wooden accents, the large windows and their bright flowers in the window boxes. The low hedge that wrapped around your property, the wrought iron double gates, it was all so… out of a fairytale looking. Compared to his well hidden log home that blended so well with the environment that often you wouldn’t notice it. 

But as much as he liked the exterior, the interior of your home blew his mind. It was so… home-y. He could smell some sort of freshly baked goods. And it was heavenly. Everything inside your home was vintage looking. Every furniture, every trinket, every painting and sculpture that looked like they cost a fortune. 

Then he realised, this was your grandmother’s home. Of course everything in it was old. So he tried to find bits and pieces of you everywhere he looked. And he did. New books on the bookshelf near the entrance that looked like it was older than he was. New vinyls hanging on the wall amongst the old ones. Fresh flowers in old vases in your foyer. And there might be so much more but he couldn’t exactly be a creep and stare for too long. So he followed you as you led him to your living room. 

He would have admired your living room a little longer, but then even he could feel how much colder this room was compared to the rest of the house. So he got to work immediately, kneeling by the heater. He knew how to fix it, it was easy enough with his metal hand. But he also didn’t wanna be too quick. 

“So,” He cleared his throat while pretending to be busy with the old-fashioned heater, ���Old man down the street told me you had no family in this town.” 

Yeah, real smooth Bucky. He cursed himself. 

“Yup!” You answered, like he asked you about the weather instead. 

Bucky looked up and found you sitting on your couch, legs crossed, like a spoiled little thing while he knelt on your floor fixing your heater for you. He wanted to know more, so he asked, “And is that by choice or…?” 

You sighed, then told Bucky the truth. “I am the youngest. My siblings and I never got along when we were kids. I spent years thinking surely something will change when we get older, but no.” It was a little sad talking about it, but nothing you couldn’t handle. “Then mom and dad separated and they each went their own way. Last I heard my father was onto his third wife, and my mother was backpacking around the world with some of her friends. All my siblings left home one by one. Then when I left for uni I made the decision to never go back to that empty house.” 

Bucky stopped pretending to work on the heater. He’d fixed it, so now he sat next to it, back against the wall as he watched you. He wanted to gather you in his arms and never let you go. 

“I would’ve figured something out.” You said, with a determined smile. “I always wanted to move to a small town, maybe even a coastal one. But then as I was finishing up my final year, I got a phone call one day. It was my grandma, and she was sick and needed assistance.” Another soft smile, this one sadder. “It felt like a sign. And it was the right thing to do. So I moved here. And lost contact with my family, there was complete radio silence even after grandma passed.” 

Bucky looked away for a moment, the thought of you going through all that alone was heartbreaking. But you were so brave. 

You continued, “So yeah, I’ve been on my own ever since. And I love this place, these people.” You looked right at him and added, “And handy neighbours who fix my heater.” 

Bucky smiled. “All fixed.” He grunted as he got up from the floor. 

“Thank you!” 

You walked Bucky to the front door, then just as he was about to step outside you called out, “Oh Bucky, wait! I almost forgot.” 

Bucky watched how you ran back inside, towards your kitchen and then ran back towards him with a little basket. 

“Here,” You handed him the basket filled with sweet smelling stuff. “I baked them this morning.” 

Bucky peeked and found a bunch of chocolate chip cookies. He looked back at you and found you smiling at him. He smiled back then rolled his eyes as he stepped out of your home, groaning, “Gonna make me fat with all your sweet stuff.” 

You giggled, leaning against your doorframe as Bucky stepped down the steps of your porch. “You can always work out more. You know, chop more wood in the mornings, or run by the lake more.” 

Bucky stopped on the last step and turned to face you. His heart beating a little faster as the realization sunk in. “You stalk me.” He sounded like he was teasing you. 

You smirked, “Don’t you? You think I don't know you follow me home almost everyday?” 

“Alright, fine.” Bucky rolled his eyes again. “But you stalk me too.” 

“You’re loud when you chop wood in the morning. It wakes me up early.” You argued, eyeing him up and down, shamelessly. Gods, he was a handsome man. Even more so with that tight long sleeved shirt and dark jeans. 

“I see.” He mumbled. “You like the early morning view?” He caught himself asking before he could think about it twice. What? He knew he looked good. He wanted to know if you appreciated the view. 

You gave him another sly smirk as you answered, “Very much.” 

He smiled at you. Then nodded and said, “Good night, neighbour. Thanks for the goodies.” 

“Good night, Bucky.” 

— 

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of light rain hitting your bedroom window, and the muffled repeated sound of an axe hitting wood. You smiled before you even opened your eyes. Waking up to the sound of rain was always delightful. But the sound of someone chopping wood had recently become your new favourite. 

Bucky. 

You pulled back the covers and quickly walked over to your bedroom window. You peeled back the curtains and found Bucky in his backyard. 

Shirtless. 

You froze. 

The sight of him there, wearing nothing but his usual jeans and boots, axe in his hands, the metal arm glistening almost as much as his damp, muscular chest. Fuck. He looked divine. His longish hair was damp as well, a few strands falling over his face, and the muscles in his arm and back flexing each time he brought the axe down. 

You were mesmerised by the sight of him there, with the dark woods as background. The light rain falling over him. And the blue of his eyes staring right at you– 

You gasped and quickly shut the curtains again when you realised he’d looked up and caught you staring at him. Your face felt hot as you hid behind the heavy curtains. Your heart raced a little faster and you felt like a little kid who got caught doing something you shouldn’t. Shit. 

Oh well. Whatever. He knew you watched him. 

So you peeled the curtains back again and found him smirking at you. He lifted his right hand, waving at you like any good neighbour would. You smiled and waved back, then forced yourself to look away from his gorgeous face and body, and get away from the window to get ready for your day ahead. 

That image of him chopping wood in the rain didn’t leave your head the entire morning. 

—

Bucky didn’t know what exactly made him do it. Maybe it was the interaction you two had had that morning. The heat in your eyes as you watched him, the way your lips parted just so slightly, and he was certain he could see how you were breathing heavily just looking at him. 

He’d been smiling to himself all morning when he thought about that brief interaction. The way you hid when he caught you was… cute. But you went away so quickly. He wanted to see you again, he wanted more. 

So perhaps that’s why he finally found himself walking into your cosy little bookstore. It was exactly what he was expecting it to be. Dark interior with dimmed lights. Spacious middle area with little reading nooks scattered all over the place. Dark, velvet couches and bright pillows. A tea and a coffee station right next to each other by the large window, and baskets filled with baked goods. Muffins and cookies. He could smell whatever fancy candles you must have burning somewhere.  

“Bucky!”

He turned around and found you smiling at him, a tiny book in your hand. He smiled back, and decided you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in his long life. Dressed in a simple black dress and dark red cardigan, you looked… even more delicious than all the things you baked. He was thankful there was no one in the store to witness how he checked you out shamelessly. 

“Hey,” He said, then looked around and commented, “Nice place.” 

“Thanks,” You walked up to him. 

Stopping right in front of him, close enough that he could smell your perfume and it was driving him insane. It was something citrus and feminine, reminding him of blood oranges, pomegranates, and delicate flowers. And it made him want to pull you closer. But he shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket instead. 

“It was my grandma’s.” You explained, and he listened with interest. “She left me quite… a lot in the will so I don't really have to worry about my livelihood. Which I’m very grateful for. And even though it’s not great business, I decided to keep running the store just to keep her memory alive.” 

Bucky smiled again at how kind you truly were. “That’s nice of you.” 

You gave him another pretty smile. “I have some loyal customers, they come to buy books every few weeks. But most of all, people like to come here just to read. Or hang out. So I always have warm drinks and sweet treats ready.” Then you turned to him and asked politely, “What brings you here? I didn’t quite picture you as a guy who reads.” You teased. 

His voice was laced with sarcasm as he said, “And I didn't picture you as a woman who spies on her shirtless neighbours, but here you are.” 

He could tell that caught you off guard. Maybe you’d thought he would never bring it up. But, Bucky decided, it was fun to tease you. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” You replied, giving him that look he loved. The innocent one, with mischief hidden somewhere. 

“Oh yeah?” He stepped closer to you, just a little bit. “Did you forget I saw you this morning? Making eyes at me?” 

You scoffed, “Well, if you’re gonna put on a show…” 

“And how’d you like it? The show?” He asked, stepping closer again. And you took a step back this time, and you two danced this dance until he almost had you cornered between two shelves. 

You gasped dramatically, “Bucky barnes. Are you flirting with me?” Your back hit the shelf behind you. “Aren’t you, like, a hundred years old?” 

Bucky laughed as pinned you to the bookshelf. His metal hand coming up to grab onto the wood, caging you between him and the shelf as he slowly slid his leg in between yours. “Yeah, I am. What about it? It didn’t stop you from spying on me.” He noted the way you spread your legs to make room for his. “I know you want me.” He said, pressing his leg up in between yours. 

You gasped again. Then chuckled and said, “Don’t be inappropriate right in front of grandma’s portrait, you weirdo.” Then you gently hit him on the head with the tiny book you’d been holding. 

Bucky frowned then looked around, searching for the portrait. And it was right behind him. A large portrait of an old woman in a gilded frame, staring down at the two of you sternly. 

Sorry, grandma. 

He grabbed you and easily pulled you away, pinning you to the next closest bookshelf he found. His leg sliding in between yours again. “Now that grandma’s not watching,” He said, making you laugh. Fuck. He’d do anything to keep you laughing and happy like that. “Wanna tell me where I can be inappropriate then? Want me to take you out?” He asked, then couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss your neck, discreetly inhaling your perfume like it was the only thing he’d ever wanted to do. Suddenly he wanted your scent everywhere. On his clothes. In his truck. On his bedsheets and pillows. “Is that what you’d like?” He asked, pulling away to look into your eyes. “A date? Where I spend the entire evening waiting and figuring out if you’d let me kiss you or not?” 

“You won’t have to wait the entire evening.” You smirked at him. “I’d let you kiss me anytime.” 

Fuck. His heart skipped a beat. 

“Can I kiss you now?” 

“Yes.” You leaned in, sliding your hands around his neck to pull him closer. Bucky’s brain stopped working for a second or two as you kissed him. 

He melted into your kiss. His hands grabbed you at the waist to pull you closer as he deepened the kiss. Your hands slid into his hair and he held you tightly against him, pressed up against his firm body as his mouth moved perfectly against yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth, making you moan into the kiss as he slowly slipped his metal hand up your dress. 

You gasped at his cold touch. His lips left yours momentarily to kiss along your jaw, and down your neck, nibbling on your skin and inhaling your addicting scent, making you sigh in pleasure as his hand found its way past your underwear. 

“Can I touch you?” He mumbled into your ear, “Please say yes, baby. You’re killing me.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle, then whispered, “Yeah, you can touch me.” 

Bucky groaned as he moved your underwear aside and ran his knuckles along your wet slit, smearing your wetness around. He chuckled when he felt that you were just as wet and ready for him as he hoped you’d be. 

“See? You do want me.” 

You whined at the sound of his cocky voice. You couldn’t help but look down to see his hand moving gently against your body as he teased you, his metal hand sliding in and out from in between your legs, disappearing under your dress each time his fingers dove in to tease your clit. Fuck, just the sight of his hand sent pleasant shivers down your back. You also noticed the growing bulge in his pants. You bit your lip at the sight of it, then looked up at him. He was already staring at you. So you silently pleaded, begging for more. 

Bucky wanted more too. He pushed his two metal fingers inside you with ease and felt your warm walls immediately welcoming him in. He held your stare as he curled his fingers inside of you, hitting all the right spots which made you weak in the knees. You bucked your hips against his hand, still staring into his eyes, and he chuckled. “Does that feel good, baby?” 

You nodded, biting down on your lip to keep yourself from moaning. Because the store was empty, but anyone could walk in. They wouldn’t see you, but you didn’t want them to hear you either. 

“Yeah? You want more?” Bucky asked, his fingers moving in and out of you perfectly. “Want me to taste you? Can I do that?” He mumbled and kissed down your neck, biting and licking your skin around your collar bones. 

Meanwhile you lazily reached for him, palming him through his jeans and feeling his erection. You smirked to yourself as he grunted the moment you touched him. “All that for me?” You teased him. 

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh into the crook of your neck. “Now who’s being inappropriate?” 

You giggled, “You started this when–,” 

The sound of the tiny bell above the entrance of your store ringing cut you off. You both froze then immediately pulled away from each other. You fixed your clothes quickly and gave Bucky a smirk before you went back to the front and greeted your customer. 

Bucky couldn’t let himself be seen yet. Not until the raging hard on he had would calm down first. So he walked around, hiding behind bookshelves as he perused them. And once he was safe, he walked to the front and found you scanning some books before putting them in a bag for the customer – she was an old lady who lived near the lake. Bucky often saw her when he went for his frequent runs. 

Bucky grabbed a random book and sat down at one of the many reading nooks. It hid him enough that he could stare at you leisurely, without being caught by Old Lake Lady. He could tell you felt his eyes on you, because you’d send quick glances his way even as you engaged in a conversation with the old lady about her cats and dogs. 

Just minutes ago you were moaning in his ear with his fingers inside you, and here you were now, being nice and warm to a customer. 

Bucky had to hide his smirk, at least until the lady was gone. Soon she’d wrapped up her stories, paid for her books, and left, leaving you two alone again. Bucky got up from the couch and approached you. 

“Come over tonight,” He said. “I’ll make you dinner.” 

He watched how you seemed surprised. Then rolled his eyes when you asked, “You can cook?” 

He answered, proudly, “I’m over a hundred years old, you learn a thing or two when you’ve been alive that long.” A pause, then he added, “Plus recipe books help too.” 

You laughed. “Okay, see you tonight then.” 

“See you.” 

Bucky left you with a wink. 

— 

When you got home that evening, you took over an hour to get ready for dinner. You caught yourself smiling a lot just thinking of Bucky and how he touched you earlier… 

You sighed, impatient to see him again. But you didn’t want to seem too eager and show up at his house too early so you found something to keep you busy until it was a reasonable time to knock on his door. Plus, you wanted to bring him something nice so you ended up gathering flowers from your yard and made him a little bouquet. 

It ended up being a pastel coloured bunch of flowers, pinks and lilacs with some white here and there. You decided it was cute enough for a first date. Was it even a date? Or was it just a casual dinner? 

Before you could overthink yourself to death and find a way to get out of this, you grabbed a light cardigan and walked over to Bucky’s house. 

Bucky answered after your very first knock. Almost too quickly. 

You couldn’t help but tease him about it. “You were waiting by the door, weren’t you?” 

“No.” He argued, “I’m just really quick to get the door. Don’t like to keep my guests waiting.” 

“Sure,” You smirked as you walked into his home. Bucky shut the door behind you and turned to face you. “Here,” You handed him the bunch of flowers, “I picked them myself.” 

You expected him to make some sassy comment, but he didn’t. “I’ve never been given flowers before.” He said, looking down at them. And you felt really proud. “Are they edible too?” 

You laughed as you followed him further in. “No, they’re not. But they will bring some life and colour to your home.” 

Bucky chuckled as he grabbed a vase and filled it with water to put the flowers in. “Are you saying my house looks lifeless and dark?” 

“No,” You took a seat at the kitchen island table, and watched him as he placed the flower stems one by one into the vase. “I’m just saying it needs some colour. But I love the sombre and broody vibe you went for. It’s very… retired superhero-esque.” 

And it was indeed. Dark floors, dark furniture. It was spacious and luxurious, with minimal furniture. You didn’t know if the minimalism was intentional or not. But either way, it suited Bucky. The large windows made up for the empty spaces. It allowed a lot of the outside in. Especially the rich, dark woods. 

He gave you a playful glare before he grabbed two wine glasses and asked you, “You like red or white?” 

“Red, please.” 

He handed you a glass of red, clinked your glasses together then went back to the stove. “You’re welcome to snoop if you want.” He said, then heard you get off the stool at the island table and heard your footsteps walking around. 

Bucky’s house was much closer to the woods than yours, and sometimes it felt like his house – much like him – preferred to blend in with the surroundings rather than stand out. 

The kitchen was your favourite part so far. It was like a glass prism. No walls, but the woods hid it well from the other neighbours. And right now, as the sun set and the sky turned pinkish orange, it flooded the entire kitchen with those same colours. 

Bucky let you snoop, and turned to the stove where he was concocting something that smelt divine. He glanced at you now and then, and noted the way you took in his home. The ground floor had an open concept look. So you could see the living room, the foyer, the large staircase – which led to the upper level where all the bedrooms and bathrooms were, the small conservatory, all could be seen from the kitchen. 

He was rather proud of his home. But you weren’t saying anything yet. Did you not like it? Bucky wondered silently as he flipped the veggies he’d been grilling. “You like it?” He couldn’t help but ask. 

“I do!” 

Bucky looked up and found you in the middle of his dimly lit living room. You did a slow, mindless twirl as you took in all the random art he had mounted on his walls. Bucky was mesmerised. You, there, in that pretty dress – it messed with his head in the best way. 

“What made you move here?” 

Your question caught him off guard. He knew why he moved here, but he didn’t know if he could put it into words in a coherent way. But he did his best. Dinner was done, so he spoke as he plated everything. 

“I had been thinking about retiring for years now.” He sighed. “I didn't wanna lose myself. Again. Or have to watch my friends die. Again.” He let out a sad chuckle. “You'd think I would be immune to losing people by now. But it hurts the same every time. Plus going on a mission and not knowing if everyone would make it back… It messes with your head.” He said. “So I decided to leave. I was worried it would make me seem like a coward. But then I realised, I shouldn’t care.” 

He heard you coming back into the kitchen. 

“Plus, it's hard to blend in when you’re me, you know?” He could see you in his periphery, getting closer to where he was. “After years of being who I was, and doing what I did, there’s not many places where I could go that would feel normal.” 

Without saying a word, Bucky watched how you placed your glass down and came over to help him plate everything onto two dinner plates. He gave you a faint smile then continued, while the two of you moved around his kitchen gracefully. As if this was a daily thing. 

“Then one day I decided to leave that life. But I still didn’t have a place to call home so I drove around, traveled and tried to find somewhere that was calm, and welcoming. Somewhere I could just be me, and not… what I was.” He paused, remembering the day he first came to this town. “I happened to be driving through here one day, and the weather got really bad. The rain was horrendous and the people I met at the pub told me it was dangerous to continue driving in a weather like that.” He chuckled at the memory, “And I told them, I’ve been out on missions in worse weather. Rain or sleet was nothing, I’ve been out during hurricanes and snowstorms.” 

Your heart hurt for a moment, thinking about Bucky having to brave all sorts of storms. 

Bucky continued, “Then, one of the old guys at the pub grabbed me by the shoulders and said ‘Well, you don’t have to be out in storms anymore’ and he offered me a place to stay for the night. And when I woke up the next day, I realised that no one cared about who I was or what I had done in the past. They were just kind and welcoming to me like I was a regular guy.” He looked up at you, smiled and said, “So I bought the land and the house here and stayed.” 

You smiled back at him. “And that’s why you’re friends with all the old guys at the pub.” 

“Yeah,” He added, smiling, “Although I am older than all of them.” 

You laughed, and watched him as he placed the plates down. Once his hands were free, you grabbed one of them and squeezed it tight in your grip until he looked at you. His hand was warm in yours. And you decided that you liked holding his hand. You wanted to do it more often.

“You did the right thing by choosing your peace, Bucky.” You said, looking into his pretty eyes. “It's not selfish nor cowardly to want to keep yourself safe. To put yourself first. You helped save this world so many times. You deserve this break. I hope you know that.” 

Bucky smiled and brought your intertwined hands up to his lips. Kissing your knuckles, he whispered, “Thank you.” 

He looked so sincere and adorable, you almost pulled him in for a kiss right there and then. But instead you calmed yourself down and admired the beautiful man in front of you. His longish hair was nice and dry this time, and looked like he’d run his fingers through it many times. And he was wearing a white button up shirt too, something you just now noticed, with the sleeves rolled up till his elbows. The metal arm glistened in the golden light of the sunset. 

Gods, he was beautiful. Who could ever be mean to this man? 

To bring you both back to that playful mood you said, “Well, neighbour. I was promised dinner. And I’m kinda hungry.” 

Bucky laughed and gently let go of your hand. He asked you if you wanted to dine in the conservatory, but you said the island table in the kitchen was fine. Plus, the view of the sky, the woods, and the mountains all at once was to die for. 

“I think I’m in love with your house.” You said at some point during dinner, holding back moans because Bucky’s cooking was amazing. 

He gave you a playful look as he sipped on his wine and replied, “Come visit anytime.” 

“Maybe I will.” 

“Maybe you should.” 

You teased, “You just want me to bring you muffins and cookies, don’t you?” 

Bucky laughed and said, “I’m having to work out twice as much ever since you started feeding me those sugary stuff. Gotta stay fit if I want you to keep looking at me like that.” 

Your face felt hot when he said that. Okay, so maybe you were not being subtle when looking at him. Oh, god forbid a girl checks out her hot neighbour. You quickly changed the topic after that, not wanting him to know just how much his words and deep voice was affecting you. 

You two talked about life in the small town, about the places you’d travelled to before moving here, Bucky made you laugh with his ridiculous stories about how people tend to come knocking on his door whenever they need help with moving stuff. Or how people in the neighbourhood just assumed he liked chopping wood so much they just pulled up in their own trucks to pick up some or they called him and asked him to deliver logs to their houses. 

“Thankfully I have the truck,” He said, chuckling, “Otherwise I think I’d be seen carrying logs around on my shoulders for delivery.” 

You giggled at the thought of him doing that. Then you realised, “I didn’t know you had a truck. I guess I’ve only ever seen you out on walks.” 

He nodded, refilling your wine glass. “Yeah I don’t use it a lot though, I just drive up the mountains sometimes when I want to be alone. Plus the view from up there is insane.” Then he paused, thinking, and said, “I’ll take you up there, on a drive someday. If you want.” 

“I’d love that.” You said, smiling from behind your wine glass. 

–

After dinner you offered to help clean up, but Bucky politely refused. “Carry on snooping,” He said, “I’ll just load the dishwasher and come join you.” He refilled your wine glass one more time and sent you off. 

You didn’t put up a fight, you wanted to see more of his home. So a short walk later, you found yourself in the large, circular conservatory. There were some couches about, a small dining table for four, and some plants and rugs. It was so cosy, it reminded you of your store. Minus the colours, because everything in here was dark green, or grey, or dark brown. But you didn’t mind it. 

You admired Bucky’s backyard, which blended into the woods. You saw the chopping block where he chopped wood almost every morning. And you could see your house from here, part of it at least. Especially your bedroom window. 

“That’s a pretty dress. I’m sorry I didn't say it earlier.” Bucky said as he walked into the conservatory as well, his own wine glass in hand. 

And you were certain it wasn't just the wine that made your blood rush. You gave him a little twirl which made him chuckle. “Thanks,” You said, facing him once again. “I wore it just for you.” It was true. You had chosen the dark blue dress only because the moment you saw it in your closet, it reminded you of Bucky’s eyes. 

“Yeah?” He held your stare as he made his way over to you, placing his glass down on the small dining table on the way. He stopped right in front of you, letting his eyes roam all over you before he said, “Will you take it off for me as well?” 

The wine gave you manic confidence, so you grabbed him by the waist and pulled him into you. “Is that what you want?” 

Bucky’s eyes were intense as he stared at you. You finished your wine and set your glass down. 

“I do.” Bucky said. 

You spoke in a cocky tone, “Then why do I have to do all the work?” 

He chuckled, “Come here then.” He pinned you to the nearest surface, the cold glass door of the conservatory which led to the backyard. He knew it was locked so he didn’t have to worry. “Let’s finish what we started earlier, yeah?” 

He leaned closer, chest pressing against yours leaving no space in between. He waited for a moment, silently asking if this was okay. And upon seeing you wanted this as much as he did, Bucky leaned in for a kiss. A proper one, a hungry one. 

His rough facial hair scratched your skin, his teeth nibbled and bit your lips. His hands roaming all over your body before he slid the straps of your dress down your arms, letting your dress bunch around your waist. Your dress didn’t require a bra so you were half naked in front of him in no time. 

He kissed you ravenously, pulling you closer. Pouring everything he felt into the kiss. Desire, warmth, longing, lust. He couldn’t get enough. 

“Bucky…” You gasped against his lips, you couldn’t wait any longer, “I want you.” Breathing fast, you tried to pull him closer, but this time he wouldn’t budge. 

“Turn around,” He mumbled softly, pulling away a little to give you room to turn. He’d thought he would take his time and maybe get up to his bedroom and make sweet love to you. But fuck, the sight of you in that pretty dress was driving him insane. Again. He couldn’t wait. 

You turned, facing the glass door and waited. The sky above was yet to turn black completely. It was that pretty dark blue colour. And the stars were starting to show. And everything was perfect. You brought your hands up to your chest, not wanting to press your bare body to the cold glass. 

But Bucky didn’t like that. He pressed against your back. Your bare skin against the cool fabric of his shirt. He grabbed your wrists in his metal hand and pinned them above your head, stretching your torso in a way that had you whining already, and he had barely touched you yet. He whispered into your ear, “Keep them there for me.” So gently, his deep voice made you tremble. 

You nodded, then he shoved his warm hand in between your legs and touched you where you desperately wanted him to. Where you needed him since earlier today. You whined and trembled, your bare chest pressing against the cool glass when he slid a finger in, fucking you with it while he whispered into your ear, “You’re so wet for me. Have you been like that all throughout dinner? Hmm?” He cooed. “While you sat across from me, looking all sweet and nice, were you just dripping for me all along?” 

Fuck. Who knew he had such a foul mouth? 

“Bucky,” You whimpered, “Please.” 

He chuckled, his finger moving in and out of you in a way that made you move your hips, demanding more but he wouldn’t give it to you yet. “Aww, baby. Poor you.” His deep voice made his chest rumble against your back. “I should punish you for not telling me about this little situation earlier.” 

Your dress was hanging on to your body around your waist, Being half naked while he was still fully dressed made this even dirtier. You were moaning by now, thanking all the gods that Bucky didn’t have any other neighbours. 

“Tell me.” He demanded, sliding another finger inside you and making your body squirm and grind against him. “How long have you been this wet, baby?” 

“Oh damn you.” You were embarrassingly wet at this point, and the sounds your body made as he finger-fucked you were lewd. But you couldn’t get enough. “Ever since we were interrupted at the store earlier today.” 

His lips brushed against the back of your neck as he spoke. “You’ve been thinking about me all day then? Huh? Have you been thinking about what could’ve happened if we weren’t interrupted earlier? About how I would’ve fucked you nice and hard against that bookshelf? Hmm?” 

“Yes…” You whimpered as he kept fucking you with his fingers even as you came, trembling against him. His fingers slid in and out of you with ease now. “I thought about you, about us, all day.” You whispered quietly, your warm breath fogging up the cold glass in front of you. 

He didn’t care that you came already. He wanted more. So he reached deeper inside you, curling his fingers just enough to make you mutter incoherent things. 

“And what did you do? Did you touch yourself after I left? Or did you rush home and take care of it?” He asked, “Or did you wait till now?” 

“Please…” You begged. “I waited, I promise.” 

“Oh?” He chuckled, slowing down his movements purposely. “You waited, huh?” He playfully bit on your exposed shoulder. 

“Yes…” You whined. “I did. Cause I wanted you to touch me and make me feel good. Please, Bucky, make it feel good.” 

“Oh baby,” He whispered, kissing around your ear, along your jaw. “I’ve got you.

Bucky pulled away for a brief moment. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear him undoing his trousers. And moments later, he was rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds. You shivered in pleasure.

“Yes…” You panted. 

“I’m gonna make it feel good, okay?” He mumbled into your ear as he pushed his cock into you, making you cry out loud as he stretched you out. 

It had been a while since you got laid. So Bucky felt huge inside you. You moaned as his fingers found your clit again, rubbing it in sync with his thrusts. His metal hand left your wrists and came down to grab you by the waist, holding you against him as he sped up into you, fucking you just like how you hoped he would. Fast. Deep. Hungrily. 

He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and licked, and bit on your skin as he fucked into you relentlessly, earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls. “You feel so fucking good, you know that? My pretty girl…” 

You moaned quietly, shamelessly, your body slamming into the glass with each one of his thrusts, and fuck if it didn’t turn you on more. 

“Tight little thing, aren’t you? Gripping me like you’re never gonna let go,” He chuckled in that cocky way you loved. “I’m right here, baby. I’ve got you now.” He moaned against your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. “Whenever you want me to make you feel good, I’ll do it. You hear me? I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.” 

You nodded, your legs starting to shake as he quickened his pace, pounding into you mercilessly. His fingers still teasing your clit and making you lose your mind. 

“Bucky–,” You choked on your words as you came undone, walls clenching around him, and a loud moan erupting from your mouth as he made you come hard. It was almost blinding. 

His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls, moaning out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. “Fuck, baby,” He came while biting down on your shoulder.

You leaned against the glass door, limp and satiated. You had to blink a couple times to come back from that high. The glass was completely fogged up in front of your face as you pulled away to breathe deeply. 

Bucky held you gently. Wrapping his arms around you, his cock still inside you, throbbing. “You okay?” 

You giggled, leaning your head back to rest against his shoulder. “I’m okay.” You replied. “You?” 

“Yeah. Perfect.” A pause, then he said. “I gotta buy some condoms if we’re gonna do this often. I wasn’t exactly planning on–,” He hesitated. “You know…” 

You giggled again. “Yeah I know. Me neither.” 

Then you both laughed and Bucky helped you clean up as best he could before he walked you back to your house. You kissed him goodnight, and he said he hoped to see you soon. You exchanged numbers and then pulled him in for another kiss before he left. 

—

The following day Bucky dropped by the store and saw that it was packed. Of course, you’d told him over text that Fridays tend to get a little busy. Teens come over to get homework done after school. Some people came to get books for the weekend. Others just came to talk to you and ask about your week. The younger kids dropped by after school for snacks because they knew they’d miss it given you didn’t open during weekends. 

So Bucky only had a minute or two to say hi and give you a gentle kiss on the cheek. 

“Can I see you tonight? If you don’t have plans?” He asked. 

You seemed sad when you replied, “I’m pet-sitting for someone tonight. And I’m going over to a friend's house for dinner on Saturday night. Can we meet on Sunday?” 

He grumpily agreed. Because what did you mean he had to wait for two nights to see you again? 

He tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep on Friday night. So he ended up texting you: 

Saturday night was no different. He couldn’t sleep. But he didn’t want to text you again and seem desperate. Even though he was very much desperate. And he was pleasantly surprised when he received a text from you: 

Needless to say, when you showed up at his house in the morning, all other plans went out the window because after breakfast, the two of you spent almost the whole day in Bucky’s bedroom. 

— 

And so, weeks passed. 

You and Bucky got more and more involved in each other’s lives. Taking turns sleeping over at each other’s house. You weren’t putting a label on it. Yet. But it was solid, whatever you two had. And it was comforting and warm. Knowing you had someone else to rely on, a shoulder to lean on after a long day, knowing you could just walk over to the house next door whenever you wanted company was nice. 

Bucky came over to yours a lot. Randomly. Sometimes he’d come over and help you with your garden, or keep you company as you fed the birds and the wild rabbits, or helped you whenever you made dinner for the two of you. It was… peaceful, the budding romance. 

You began joining Bucky on his daily evening walks. Usually, he’d come by your store at around closing time, and he’d wait till you closed and locked the place, then you would both take the long way home. People in the neighbourhood began noticing, and when the older ladies would visit your store they’d tease you about it, singing all sorts of praises about how much of a good guy Bucky was, and how helpful. 

Bucky mentioned that the old guys at the pub would tease him about it too. Telling him how lucky he was that he found such a sweet, kind, and pretty girl. 

“I am, you know?” He said to you one night, over the phone. 

“What?” You asked, holding the phone between your shoulder and your ear as you were tidying up your study room, finally deciding to put it to use. You wanted to turn it into your at home library. Make it nice and cosy like those reading nooks you’d set up at the store. 

“Lucky,” He answered. “To have you.” 

His reply made you pause in the middle of your slightly messy study room. 

Bucky continued, “When I decided to leave everything and move here, I knew the people around here were friendly and kind. But I had given up all hope I had of finding, you know, my person.” 

You smiled to yourself, feeling a little sad thinking about Bucky and how he thought he’d have to spend the rest of his days all alone here. You wanted to tell him you felt the same. You wanted to tell him that you’d given up on dating as well, after uni. You liked the people in this town, and you’d been on a few dates since you moved here. But you were always so busy taking care of your grandmother that you could never quite commit. And then after she passed you were not emotionally stable, especially given your family didn’t even reach out to ask you how you were doing and how you were dealing with everything. So you kind of just… gave up as well. 

And then you met Bucky. 

“And then I met you.” His voice was steady, firm as he repeated your thoughts. 

“Oh Buck,” You sighed. “Why don’t you come over? You’ve got me all emotional now.” 

Bucky chuckled. “You just want me to come over so we can fuck, don’t you?” 

You laughed. “No,” You argued, “I actually need you for something.” You said, looking around trying to find something, an excuse to use to you can get him to come over. You didn’t know what it was, but the vulnerability in his tone made you want to wrap your arms around him and keep him safe from the rest of the world. And now, you just needed to see him. Plus, you didn’t want him to be alone. Not after what he just told you. Besides, you had to tell him you felt the same and you didn’t wanna do that over the phone. “I have a huge bookshelf I need to move. Can you come help?” You lied. The bookshelf was perfect where it was. 

Bucky let out a dramatic sigh, “Fine. I knew it, you just want me around because I’m handy.” 

You laughed as you hung up the phone. 

Less than a minute later, Bucky was up in your study, lugging around your bookshelf as you instructed him where to place it. And after a few more minutes of deciding, you settled on having the bookshelf exactly where it initially was. 

Bucky gave you a confused look that had you giggling as he placed the shelf back down to where it was. “Well this was a waste of time.” He mumbled. 

“Maybe,” You teased, sitting down on the edge of the nearby desk. “Or maybe I just wanted to see you flexing those muscles.” You were only partially lying. Because he did look good in that extra tight black t-shirt. His silver chain caught the light the same way his metal arm did. “Come here.” You extended out your arms for him to walk into. 

And he did, sighing dramatically and mumbling something about how he was right about you only wanting him for his incredibly amazing body. But he did walk into your arms. And smiled down at you as you wrapped your arms around him. 

“You know, I didn’t ask you to come here for the bookshelf.” 

He smirked, “I know.” A pause, then he said, “Did what I said earlier scare you? Did you call me here to dump me?” He asked, raising his eyebrow and glaring at you in that playful manner of his. 

You laughed. “I could never dump you.” You leaned forward and pressed your forehead to his chest, inhaling his masculine scent and said, “I wanted to tell you that I had given up as well. But, things have changed ever since I met you too.” You finally looked up and met his eyes. Bucky’s ocean blue ones were focused on you as you finally confessed, “And I really like you, Bucky.” 

His face softened as he looked down at you. Then he lowered his face, placing his palms on the surface of the desk till he was face to face with you. And he said, “I really like you too.” He leaned in for a sweet, deep kiss. 

You slid your fingers into his hair and he smiled into the kiss when he felt you tugging on his hair. He grabbed you by the thighs and pulled you closer as he stepped in between your legs. 

Bucky pulled away just a little, keeping his lips pressed against the side of your mouth as he said, “But you know, as much as I like you, I can’t be going around doing manual labour for free.” His hands massaged your thighs in a way that had you whimpering for him already. “So, what will you give me?” 

You smiled, running your hands all over his muscular shoulders and chest. “I made fresh cookies this morning.” 

He chuckled. “Not enough.” He pulled away to look at you, “Nowhere near enough.” 

“Well,” You held his stare and asked, “What do you want then?” You gently reached down, wrapped your fingers around his wrist and guided it in between your legs. “You want that?” 

“Yeah.” Bucky immediately cupped your clothed core. Possessively. 

“You can have that.” You said, breathlessly. 

He groaned. “You’re gonna be the death of me, baby.” He shook his head, “Take all that off then, let me see what you’re offering.” 

You smirked, holding his stare as you lifted your dress up and removed your underwear before sitting on the edge of the desk again, spreading your legs so he could just look at you down there.  

Bucky placed his hands on your thighs again, spread them further apart, and took his time inspecting your wet folds. He mindlessly dragged a metal finger up and down your slit, making you shiver and moan as he touched you but barely. 

His eyes trailed up to your tits, and his other hand reached up to pinch a clothed nipple, making you yelp. “Ow!” You frowned at him. 

“What?” He chuckled, “You’re all mine. I’m allowed to play with you.” 

“That hurt.” 

He smirked. “I know it did.” He held your stare as he got down on his knees so his mouth was mere inches away from your clit. “Now, keep your legs spread for me. Just like this. Open for me. Okay?” 

You nodded, looking down in between your legs as he leaned in and pressed his mouth shamelessly to your wetness. 

His tongue, his lips, the gentle suction of his warm mouth – it was all too much, too good. He moved his head side to side, his coarse stubble brushing against your soft inner thighs. You whined and trembled, trying to keep your voice down as he made you lose your mind by eating you out like a starved man. 

“All mine, yeah?” He whispered, looking up at you with his mouth just barely hovering above your clit. “My girl.” He smiled, then got back to it, the lower half of his face was completely submerged in your wet cunt. 

Your fingers slid into his hair again, gently guiding him as he made it feel so good it almost hurt. 

You came with a yelp and a moan, riding his face and tugging on his hair. 

Bucky smiled as he pulled away and stood back up. “You taste so good, baby. Thank you.” 

You couldn’t take your eyes off his damp lips. “I should be thanking you.” You said quietly. 

“No,” He argued, licking his lips then added, “That was selfishly all for me.” 

You chuckled, then pulled him in for a kiss. 

How did you get so lucky? 

— 

Eventually, Bucky ended up taking you up the mountains in his truck. His large, all black Ford Raptor was nice and clean, it smelled like new leather and it was comfortable too. 

While driving up, Bucky kept his hand on your thigh, and you couldn’t help but feel giddy each time you looked down to see him mindlessly caressing your thigh. Then you’d look up and find him driving with just one hand, and that simple act was so hot for no reason. 

Easy, tiger. 

You managed to keep your hands to yourself the entire drive up. 

Bucky came to a stop at a well-known spot. People often drove here to look at the view. And it was so worth it. You could see everything from here. The woods, the lake, the houses and the lights coming on in the streets given that the sun was starting to set now. You could spot your house and Bucky’s as well. 

The woods up here were extra dense so it was darker than everywhere else, and the sky was quickly changing colours. From pink to orange, to a darker blue right before your eyes. But none of it compared to the man beside you who was rambling about how nice it was that you baked muffins especially for this little date. 

“I’m dying to have some of–,”

You cut him off by grabbing his face and kissing him. Bucky was surprised but quickly went along, kissing you back with almost just as much hunger. “Make some room for me.” You mumbled in between kisses. “I hope you have condoms in your truck. Please say you do.” 

Bucky understood immediately, and pushed his seat back just enough to allow you to move from the passenger side to his lap, straddling him. He smiled into the kiss as he slowly trailed his hands downwards till they rested at the curve of your butt. “I did bring some.” 

“Perfect.” You could feel his warmth on your skin even through the material of the skirt you’d chosen to wear for this date, and it made your heart race even more. “I need you so badly. Can I have you? Please?” You asked, placing your forehead against his. 

Bucky pulled you even closer, kissing down your chin as he said, “You can have whatever you want, baby.” 

You sighed in bliss as he kissed down your neck, playfully biting and nibbling on your skin. 

Bucky pulled away to look at you, “By the way, you’re not subtle. I saw you squirming in your seat the whole way here.” He whispered in that cocky tone of his, one of his hands slipping under your shirt, gently caressing your skin. “You know when you want me you can just ask, right? You don’t have to wait. I will pull over for a quickie anytime.” 

You chuckled, nuzzling his cheek as you said, “I don’t wanna seem like all I think about when I’m with you is how good you fuck me.” 

“Fuck.” He groaned, gripping your thighs tighter. “Who knew such a sweet girl had such a filthy mouth, huh?” 

You leaned in to kiss him again, and both of his hands found their way under your shirt, pulling at the hem. You giggled into the kiss before pulling away to get rid of your top. You threw it somewhere in the backseat before leaning in to kiss Bucky again. Your hands slid into his hair, his hands inched up your back to undo the clasp of your bra. You quickly got rid of that as well, baring your breasts to him. 

He wasted no time before leaning in and taking one of your nipples into his warm mouth. He moaned, mouth wrapped around one of your tits as he sucked gently. Your back arched, giggling and gasping as he teased you. You found your hips moving against his, grinding against him. 

You gasped as he sucked hungrily on your skin, moving up to your collar bones, down to your breasts and back up. Bucky chuckled when you tugged on his hair, getting more and more impatient and needy. Oh, he loved you in moods like these. 

“Stop fucking teasing me.” You whispered, grounding your hips against his jeans. 

He smirked, looking down to where your skirt had inched up your legs, revealing your thighs even more, “Yeah? Well, you’re my girl. I’ll do whatever I want with you.” He leaned in for a proper kiss. “To you. I’ll tease you for hours if I want to.” 

You playfully bit his lip, making him hiss in pain before he chuckled against your mouth. “Stop wasting time please, I want to fuck you.” 

He laughed, pushing his face against your bare chest and kissing the soft skin between your breasts. “You’ve turned into a little monster, you know that? 

You let out a little laugh, “Oh shut up. You made me like this.” 

Bucky raised his eyebrows at you, smirking like the cocky little shit he was. “I know.” 

You grabbed him by the chin and said, “No more teasing.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled, leaning in to kiss your neck again. “You smell so fucking good. I could just eat you up.” He whispered against your skin as his hands slipped under your skirt, his thumbs caressing your inner thighs – making you gasp and whimper quietly as his fingers teased you in between your legs through your underwear. “Too bad we don’t have enough room for me to taste you right now. Later though, okay? When we get home.” 

“Bucky…” You whined as he leaned down to suck on your tits again, more greedy than earlier as he toyed with your wet folds and clit at the same time 

Your impatient hands were at the zipper of his pants in no time. 

He finally looked up and gave you a lazy smile, eyes hooded with lust. “Go on, baby. Take it out, it’s all yours.” His voice was suddenly deeper than earlier. Bucky reached for the condom and handed it to you. He fucking loved how you tore it open and put it on him each time. “Good job, baby.” He said, once you were done. 

His voice made you shiver. And only then did you realise that there was a light drizzle outside, which made the air even colder, making you crave his body heat even more. Making this even hotter. 

You lifted off of his lap at the same time as you both lowered his pants and underwear to free his erected cock. Bucky groaned impatiently as he grabbed your hips, pulled your thin underwear to the side and aligned his cock to your entrance before gently lowering you down on him. 

You moaned as you slid down his thick cock, his stare burning on your face as he thrust up into you, all the way in. “Fuck,” He swore, then leaned in to give you a wet, messy kiss. “You okay, baby? You need a moment?” 

You shook your head, no you didn’t need a moment. What you needed was more of him. “Just… move, please, you feel so good.” You whispered, kissing down his rough cheek as he obeyed, and moved, knowing exactly how you liked it. 

You whined as he grabbed your hips and guided you up and down his cock, stretching you out in the process. You held onto his shoulders as you rode his cock, bouncing on it while you moaned for him, bending a little forward so as to not hit the roof of the truck too hard. 

“Fuck…,” You felt him fill you up nicely each time, the pressure in between your legs getting hotter and hotter. “You feel so fucking good.” 

Bucky threw his head back against the headrest, watching you with lust-drunk eyes. He let out a strained moan, as he thrust into you over and over again, while also bringing you down on his cock each time with enough force to make your tits bounce. “You’re fucking beautiful. Can’t believe you’re all mine.” 

“All yours.” You said, unable to hold back your moans when he placed his thumb over your clit and rubbed it gently, in time with his thrusts. You forced yourself to look into his eyes, and the feral look in them only made you clench harder around him. 

You bit your lower lip as he thrust his hips up harder into you, your eyes rolled back and you moaned out his name as you came so close to coming undone for him. “Bucky…” 

“You’re gonna come for me?” He asked, “You’re gonna come all over my cock, huh?” 

You answered after a loud whimper, “Yes… please, can I come?” 

He cupped your cheek and traced your mouth with his thumb, “Go on, baby. Come all over my cock. Come for me…” Your walls clenched violently around his cock. You came hard, whimpering and crying for him and gasping for breath. 

Bucky came right after you, his warm load spilling in the condom as he wrapped his arms around you and held you like you were the most precious thing in the world. Like he hadn’t just fucked you like an animal. 

You caught your breath, wrapped in Bucky’s arms. Your head rested on his shoulder as you tried to calm your racing heart. “You’re right,” You said, while catching your breath, “This feels like a real date.” 

He laughed and kissed you on the forehead. 

And there you stayed, in his arms as you two watched the sun set and watched how the town lit up. 

— 

More time passed. Bucky officially asked you to be his girlfriend by showing up at the store early one morning, after you two had spent the weekend apart yet again. And he came with flowers, a look on his face which stated that he hadn’t slept well. 

“Oh Buck…” You pulled him into your arms the moment you saw those sleepy, tired eyes. “What happened to you?” 

He mumbled, his voice low and tired as well. “Can’t sleep when you’re not there.” 

“Aww, baby.” You kissed his gorgeous face, then noticed the flowers in his hand. “For me?” 

He nodded, handing them to you. “Please let me be your boyfriend. I can’t do this no label thing anymore. I won’t tie you down or anything, but I…” He struggled to find the right words, “I just wanna be able to sleep knowing you’ll come back to me again each time you leave, or spend the weekend away.” 

You felt like tearing up and laughing at the same time. So you accepted the flowers and kissed him instead. “I’ll always come back to you.” You promised. “And yes, you can be my boyfriend.” You kissed him again. “It’s a good thing I’m not close to my parents anymore. How would I explain having a century-old boyfriend?” 

He didn’t find that funny, so he chased you around the store until he finally cornered you against one of the shelves – well away from your grandma’s portrait – and kissed you until you were breathless. 

—

One evening, Bucky got a call. It was you. 

So he answered with a smile. “Hi baby. What is it this time?” He teased. “You need me to move another piece of furniture? Or are you calling again to ask if you can come watch me run shirtless around the lake? If so, I’m sorry to disappoint you but I’m not planning on going for a run today.” 

He frowned when all he heard was silence on your side. Silence, and a shaky breath. 

“Baby?” 

“Uh, Buck?” That shaky, scared tone of your voice wiped the smile right off his face. 

“What is it?” He asked, already panicking and looking for the keys of his truck, in case he needed to come get you from somewhere. You had told him you’d be out running errands earlier. “Where are you? What is it? Are you okay?” 

His heart raced thinking about all the times he’d hear silence on the comms when he was out on missions. The silence was like all those terrible memories come back, flooding his brain again. And he couldn’t help but imagine the worst possible scenarios. 

His voice was close to cracking as he asked, in a panicked tone, “Baby, please tell me you’re okay.” 

He heard a sniffle, and his heart almost dropped. You were not okay. His blood rushed, his heart beat faster than normal. 

“Bucky,” Your voice sounded broken, “This is so stupid,” You sounded disappointed in yourself. “I, um, I came deeper into the woods to get those purple edible flowers but um, I think I’m lost?” 

His heart sank. His blood froze. Fuck.

Another sniffle. Your voice cracked as you spoke, “I’ve been walking around in circles and I can’t…” Another shaky exhale, “I can’t get out. It’s been hours. It’s starting to get really dark, Bucky. Please–,” The call ended abruptly. 

When he tried calling you back, he couldn’t reach you. Something to do with network issues. 

Bucky felt like his world was crumbling down all over again. Like he was gonna lose another person dear to him. For a moment, he remained frozen in the middle of his house. His mind taking him back to those brutal days of missions and death and darkness he thought he’d walked away from. 

No, no, no. 

This wasn’t a mission. He reminded himself. He would get you back, he would get you back safe and sound. 

“Just please be okay, baby. Please.” He whispered under his breath as he took off running, through his backyard and into the woods. He ran in the direction of where he knew you had the habit of plucking those flowers. He didn’t care that it was starting to drizzle and all he was wearing was a t-shirt. 

It was starting to get dark, and he only had a few hours to get to you before it got completely dark out. Fuck, he didn’t even bring a light with him. 

“I’m coming, baby.” He mumbled under his breath as he ran deeper into the woods. “Don’t you worry.” 

He called out your name multiple times while he ran, stopping every few minutes to listen if you answered his calls. Or if he could hear anything at all. 

Come on, baby. Where are you? Where are you? Where are you? 

At one point, he was deep enough that when he stopped to listen, he could hear animals howling, and owls screeching. 

Fuck. This is a fucking horror movie. 

He couldn’t help but think about all those times he ran through woods to find and help his friends and teammates, worried sick during the search and not knowing what state he’d find them in. 

Please, baby. Please, be okay. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose you. Not like this. Not now. I want more time. Please, please, please. 

He called out your name again. And again. Louder each time, his throat burning. 

Finally, he stopped near a stream just to recalibrate. His panicked brain only showed him disturbing images of you hurt, or attacked by an animal, or worse– 

Then he saw it. A single purple flower floating down the stream. Followed by a lot more. It was the only thing keeping him sane at the moment. He frowned, wondering if he was seeing things or if it was truly those damned flowers you liked to pluck for your baking. 

He reached for one and grabbed it, clutching it in his hand he took a deep breath. Okay, if he followed the stream maybe he’d get to where you are, he reasoned. So that’s what he did. He ran up the stream, careful not to slip and fall. 

The woods were getting darker and darker, but he was used to navigating in the dark. It wasn’t easy, but he was better at it than regular humans. 

So Bucky ran, for what felt like forever, until he saw a spot of red on top of a fallen tree trunk. 

He stopped running when he saw you, his chest burning with how fast he’d been running. And for how long. Must be about an hour or two by now. But there you were, sitting on a log, with your red coat around you and your hood on. Fuck, you were probably freezing too.  

As he got closer he noticed your body shaking with quiet sobs, your boots muddy and your basket of fucking flowers on the ground. 

“There you are.” He said, breathlessly. “Baby?” 

Relief and exhaustion. A million thoughts and feelings coursing through him, he felt like he was going to explode. The only thing that felt like it tethered him to earth was the feeling of your body colliding into his chest as you ran into his arms. So hard that it almost knocked him off his balance. 

“Bucky!” You sobbed. 

He was still breathing faster than he’d ever had. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. Are you hurt?” He pulled away to look at you, “Look at me! Are you hurt?” 

How many times had he found his friends unconscious? Or with broken limbs? Or with bullet holes all over their bodies? For a moment, he was back in that life. That life filled with tragedy and pain. 

“No,” You spoke, teary eyed and voice shaking with panic and relief all at once. “My phone ran out of battery and–,” You let out a breath. “I was scared you wouldn’t find me.” 

He pulled you into his arms again, hugging you tighter than earlier, “Why wouldn’t I find you? I was worried sick. I thought–,” He stopped talking. Fuck. He needed to get a grip and calm those racing thoughts. 

A strange anger washed over him. Mainly because he was disappointed. Why hadn’t he gone out with you? You would’ve never gotten lost if he was with you. Fuck, what other dangers would you find yourself in due to his carelessness? What if next time– 

He blinked a couple of times and just said, “Come on, let’s go.” 

You noted the change in his tone and demeanor, but you didn’t say anything. You just followed him, wiping your tears and cursing the flowers in your basket. 

“I didn’t even realise I’d gotten this deep.” You spoke, looking ahead at Bucky’s back while he walked ahead and led the way. 

He didn’t say anything. 

“I only realised I went off my regular path when I started hearing all the animals.” You spoke, still staring at Bucky’s back. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” You asked softly. 

You got only silence from him. You could tell his mind was racing. But you didn’t understand the silent treatment. 

“Bucky?” You called out. 

He didn’t reply. 

“Say something.” You demanded. 

He stopped. And you nearly bumped into his back. When Bucky turned around to face you, he seemed different. Still. So still like he wasn’t breathing. It felt like he was a statue. The look in his eyes was blank. He was looking at you, but it felt like he was looking through you. 

It scared you how quiet he was. “Bucky?” 

“I thought I was gonna find you broken and maimed.” He finally said. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to go out and search places. Trying to find my teammates, or friends. Desperate to find them, or even a–,” He swallowed. “Or even a part of them.” 

You were quiet this time. And there was only silence, except for the light rain hitting the leaves around you. 

“I’m sorry.” You finally said. “Look, I was just scared when I called you. There’s nothing around here that could hurt me like that.” 

“Don’t be sorry.” He said. His voice was bitter. He finally looked at you, dead in the eyes and said, “Be smart. I ran for hours to get to you. I thought I’d find you dead. Why would you even get this far into the woods?” He finally snapped out of the trance he was in, getting heated with emotions now. “We don’t even know what lives in these woods! Nobody does!” 

You understood where he was coming from. But you didn’t appreciate the tone. “Why are you being mean to me? You’re acting like I chose to get lost. I didn’t mean to, Buck!” You got angry too. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for ruining your fucking evening.” You sassed. “I won’t do it again.” 

“Damn right you won’t!” He raised his voice just as much as you did. “I’m not letting you into these woods alone ever again!” 

“You don’t own me! I’ll go wherever I want!” Your mind couldn’t think properly. You were exhausted and still in panic mode. “I’ll even run away from you if I want to!” 

A second of silence as he processed your angry words. Then, “Fine!” He hissed. “Don't call me crying to come rescue you then next time you get lost doing what you want!” 

As much as you were angry at him, your lips trembled at the sound of his tone. “If I had someone else, literally anyone else I could rely on, I would've never called you in the first place.” You stated. Then, despite not wanting to, you teared up again. Your voice cracking as you said, “But I have no one.” 

“I have no one either!” Bucky said, “Don’t you see that? I was– I was scared I was gonna lose you too.” He sounded tired, and disappointed. “I fucking love you, and it kills me that you could be so easily taken from me! You don’t think that scares me to death every single fucking day?!” 

You couldn’t handle it. The panic and pain in his voice, the way Bucky looked heartbroken, the way he looked like he was reliving painful memories and the way you couldn’t do anything about it, the multitude of emotions running through your head at the sound of his confession… 

You couldn’t bear the shattered look on his face. So you took off running. In the other direction. 

Behind you, you could hear Bucky screaming, “Baby, for fuck’s sake!” 

But you didn’t stop. You kept running, ditching the basket and wiping your tears. 

“Get back here!” 

You could hear Bucky’s calls, but you didn’t answer. You didn’t know what to do. No one had ever made you feel that many emotions all at once ever again. Fuck, even dealing with your emotionally unavailable family was easier than this. Bucky was like an avalanche. Inescapable. Fierce. Passionate. And he destroyed all of your fears and your worries. He was so… colossal. He took over your life completely lately. And it messed with your head. Disorienting, but in the best ways. 

“Go away!” You sobbed. You were completely drenched at this point, the rain getting heavier and heavier, running for your life like a madwoman. Trying to get away from Bucky like he wasn’t the only person you ever wanted to run to for the rest of your life. 

You heard his footsteps, running, chasing and closer to you than earlier. 

You managed to run faster, finally able to put some distance between you two… only to trip on a fallen branch. You cursed before getting up, now with leaves and dirt sticking to you. 

You heard him. He was closer. Closer. “Baby, please.” He begged, his voice getting louder. 

You ran faster. Hoping to be able to somehow lose him and make your way back out of the woods somehow, and hide. Why? You didn’t know. 

But you couldn’t do that because right when you were about to make a sharp turn, Bucky grabbed you by the elbow and tackled you to the ground. Luckily you both fell on a soft, wet patch of moss rather than rocks or something. 

“Don’t run from me. I just found you.” He growled, straddling your squirming body and pinning your hands above your head. “What the hell did I say that made you run, huh? Am I not allowed to care for you?” 

You were still breathless. “You piss me off, Bucky!” You answered, heart racing. 

“Do I now?” He sounded cocky again. Far away from that strange trance he was in earlier, haunted by his past memories. 

Your body was warm because of how fast your heart was pumping blood but the rain falling from above was cold, so cold. The contrast was somehow maddening. Like Bucky. 

“Yes! And you are so mean!” You squirmed, trying to get free. 

“Stop moving!” He hissed. “I’m allowed to care, you hear me?” 

“You’re not allowed to be mad over something I had no control over.” You argued. 

“Yes I fucking am! I’m fucking allowed to be mad where my girl’s safety is concerned.” 

That shut you up. Bucky’s smirk sent a chill down your spine. 

“That’s not why you ran, is it?” He leaned down, his face hovering above yours. The damp strands of his hair tickling your face. “Is it because of what I said? About how I love you? Did you want a more romantic confession? Hmm? A cute little picnic? More flowers?” He taunted, his voice doing things to you that resulted in you feeling your arousal drip out of you. “Well that’s what I had in mind for tonight, you know? I was waiting for you at home, I was gonna make you your favourite dinner, and spout some fucking poetry to let you know how I feel but no.” He tightened his grip on your wrists. “You just had to run into these damn woods and get lost, didn’t you?” 

A tear fell down your face, disappearing into the moss under you. Fuck. You loved Bucky so much it physically hurt. 

“What is it, baby?” His voice was colder than the rain, “Did I scare you with that? Huh?” 

You sniffled. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took in a deep breath, but he was so close that you inhaled his scent as well. His cologne and his sweat was a heady mix, paired with the scent of the rain and your surroundings. You didn’t even know why you were crying. 

Bucky shut you up again with a kiss. A punishing, deep kiss. His hands let go of your wrists, coming down to grab your red coat at the neckline, ripping it open. You heard the buttons go flying around, then he grabbed the dress you were wearing under the coat, again at the neckline, and easily tore it off your body, baring your breasts to him since you hadn’t bothered to wear a bra to come to the woods. 

Bucky pulled away from the kiss, looking down at you. Above him, the sky was a darker shade of blue. His eyes demanded a silent question. He would back off immediately if you asked him to. 

But you didn’t. 

So he held your stare as he leaned down to take one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking and biting and alternating between the two of them.

You gasped and moaned and squirmed under him. The tension from earlier forgotten for now. Drops of water constantly dripped on the two of you, thankfully the pine trees took the brunt of the now heavy rain. But you could hear it, the sound of the rain falling. The grunts and groans coming from Bucky’s mouth, the sound of your moaning, the chill in the air. It was all too much. 

Bucky’s mouth moved from your breasts and kissed down your drenched torso, sucking the rain off your skin until he reached your inner thighs where he parted your legs and settled in between them. He slid your underwear to the side, and you moaned shamelessly when you felt his warm, wet tongue lick down your folds. 

His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance, occasionally flicking your throbbing clit mercilessly until you screamed his name. Your hands immediately gripped his hair and tugged gently at his wet hair. 

Your torn clothes were getting soiled but you didn’t care. Neither did he. 

He licked and sucked relentlessly, “You taste so fucking good…” He whispered as he ate you out until you whined, throwing your head back and moaning at how good he felt. His warm mouth pressed against your most intimate part, his tongue stroking you. 

He growled when your hips instinctively bucked against his mouth. You whined as the sounds he made reverberated through your entire body, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body. 

“What is it? You want more?” He taunted. “Thought you were mad at me just now. Don’t I piss you off anymore?” 

You felt tingles shooting through you as he teased you incessantly. Even in the darkness, you could sense that his piercing eyes were wild and fierce, staring up at you from in between your legs. 

“Oh damn you.” You hissed, your heart overflowing with all the love you had for him. 

“You’re all mine…” he whispered, thrusting his tongue deeper into you. You moaned and whimpered, your body getting warmer and warmer with each touch of his tongue. “You hear me? All mine.” He said.

“Please, Buck…” You felt your walls tighten around nothing, and you knew you were close. You could only moan and whimper as he kept licking deeper into you, your back arching off the cold ground. You felt him quicken his pace and you felt the pressure building up in between your hips until you couldn’t handle it anymore, and you came undone all over his lips, moaning and whimpering. Your naked body drenched in the rain. 

Bucky tore your underwear off, he’d never had to use such brute strength before, but he did now. And it only made you throb and want him more. His metal hand found itself around your throat as he parted your legs and pushed his cock into you without wasting a second, stretching you out. 

Condoms be damned. You both needed this, you thought.  

It felt so raw, primal, and dirty, being fucked on the forest floor by a man like Bucky. Broad shoulders, metal arm, hair damp and messy. His t-shirt and jeans sticking to him like a second skin while you were naked under him. 

“Sure you didn’t think you could run and hide from me, baby, did you? Or maybe you secretly did want to be fucked like this? Hmm?” He questioned, knowing you weren’t in a headspace to answer him given his hand was around your throat and his cock buried so deep inside of you – he knew your brain was a foggy mess. “My pretty girl. You’re so easily affected by a raised voice, huh? You couldn’t handle it? I spoil you too much, don’t I? You’re so fucking soft, look at you.” He scoffed, “Crying and throwing a tantrum the moment I raise my voice at you.” 

But you couldn’t argue. All you could so was whine and moan as he began fucking into you hard and fast. There was nothing gentle about it. He was wild like his surroundings, and passionate, animalistic, fucking you like there’s no tomorrow. And you enjoyed every bit of it. 

He tightened his grip around your throat as he sped up into you, leaning down and growling right in your ear and telling you that you belonged to him. “All mine.” 

The cold didn’t matter now that his warm, though damp and clothed, body was pressing down on you. Something about you being completely naked while he was still dressed made the moment all the more raw and dirty. 

“All yours.” You managed to choke out. 

You were a moaning mess under him, your hands finding their way into his hair as he fucked you nice and hard. It was all overwhelming, his voice, his weight on top of you, his cock thrusting in and out of you repeatedly… 

He released your throat and placed his hand on your abdomen, his metal hand pressing down on your front so he can feel himself inside you with each thrust. He stared into your eyes while he sped up into you again. “There I am. You feel that? That’s me fucking my girl.” He said, thrusting into your extra hard to prove his point. He smirked when your body squirmed under him. “What did you say earlier? That you’d run from me if you wanted to?” He boasted, “Try running now, baby.” 

All you could do was moan, clenching your eyes shut as you felt like you were losing your mind under him. 

“Look at me, hey, hey!” He tapped your cheek gently to get you to open your eyes. “Look at me,” His tone was gentle now. “Are you gonna come frolicking around here alone again? Huh? Are you?” 

You shook your head, unable to speak coherently.  

“Answer me. Use your words, come on.” He insisted. “You were so bratty earlier, what happened, huh? Use your words baby, come on tell me. Are you?” 

“No, please. I won’t. I promise.” 

“Good girl. Now come for me.” 

You cried out, feeling him speed up into you. “Bucky, I–,” 

“Shh, baby.” He sounded much calmer now. “I’ve got you, don’t worry. I’m right here.” He mumbled into your ear. “Your man’s here, I've got you. Just let go and come for me, that’s it. Just come.” 

He pressed his lips to yours as he made you come first, his mouth swallowing your moans as you orgasmed before he pulled out and came all over your inner thighs. 

You both caught your breaths. Bucky pressed his forehead to yours. “I love you.” He whispered. Over and over again. It was pouring now. The rain washing over you both, taking away the tension with it. 

“You’re all I have, Buck.” You confessed, breathlessly. “And I love you. So much. And when you got angry earlier… I’ve never seen that side of you before. It scared me. You’re all I have and you were mad at me. I didn’t know what else to do.” 

Bucky sighed, leaning in to press his forehead down against yours. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” He sounded genuine. “You scared me too. I thought– I didn’t mean to be angry at you. I just– that was wrong of me. I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” 

“I fucking love you.” 

“I love you too.” You sniffled. 

Bucky pulled away to look down at you. You could see it well, but you could’ve sworn his eyes were teary too. “Let’s get you home.” 

—

He took you to his house, and didn’t stop apologising or touching you in that gentle way of his. Not in the shower, not when he tucked you both in and pulled you closer in bed, not when he made sure you’d eaten something and drank plenty of water. 

And especially not when he made love to you again. Slow, and passionate love. Fingers laced together, his body on top of yours, his cock moving in and out of you languidly, his eyes staring into yours in a way that made you tear up again. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, kissing all over your face. 

“Me too.” You whispered, breathlessly. “We could’ve–” You gasped in pleasure, “We could’ve handled that better.” 

Bucky chuckled, kissing you on the mouth. “We’re idiots.” 

You giggled, his beard scratching your skin. “I agree.” 

—

You woke up the next morning wrapped in Bucky’s arms. He clung to you like a koala bear. And his heat was the most glorious thing to wake up to on a rainy morning. The world outside was cloudy and grey, and perfect for cuddles. 

“Are you up?” He asked, his voice tired and deeper than normal. 

“How long have you been up?” You asked, turning around to face him. 

“Didn’t sleep.” He said. 

“Bucky,” You chided, “Are you still worrying about last night?” 

He avoided your eyes. 

“Baby,” You cooed. “It’s okay. We talked about it, remember?” 

And you had a long conversation last night, after the multiple rounds of sex in his bed. About his protectiveness, about you being careful, about your relationship, about his fears, triggers, and worries due to his past, about everything. 

“I know,” He mumbled, kissing your forehead. “I love you. Too much.” 

You giggled, “I love you too. Too fucking much.” 

He seemed in a nicer mood instantly. “What would’ve happened to me if you hadn’t showed up that day? At my door with muffins and cookies to seduce me.” 

You laughed, snuggling into him. “Hey, it worked. I mean, I’m naked in your bed.” 

He laughed too. “Thank you, baby.” 

“What for?” 

“Sticking around.”

“Oh Buck. I’ll always stick around.” You mumbled into his neck, “Just promise me we’ll have more… date nights deep into the woods.” 

He mumbled something about how he’d created a little sex monster, then pulled you closer and said, “Whatever you want, baby.” Then finally, he drifted off to a much needed sleep with his arms still wrapped around you.

— 

a/n: get it? She was wearing a RED coat in the woods, and he’s the White WOLF hehehe– [they drag me back to my padded cell as I scream] UNTIL NEXT TIME!!! [they lock me in my cell]

[blackcatner00]

If You Asked Me Now

Pairing: Photographer!Bucky x Wedding Planner!Reader

Summary: Years after separating for college, you reunite with Bucky while coincidentally working the same wedding.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: emotional yearning; unresolved feelings; separation and reconnection after time apart

Author’s Note: This did make me a little sad and it’s kind of bittersweet. It was such a lovely request, my dear! Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy what I did with it ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

You haven’t seen him in years.

Years of quiet. Of near-misses and almost-texts. Of birthdays remembered but never acknowledged. Of photos in your camera roll you never deleted. The ache of what-if constricting your chest during long nights spent planning other people’s happy endings.

You arrived early at the venue. It’s a private estate nestled against the shoreline of a serene lake. It’s beautiful in the kind of way that makes you breathe deeper. Light filters through the canopy like it’s blessing your skin, and you set down your clipboard, your bag, your weight.

You were made for this. Checklists. Contingency plans. Love stories that bloom under your careful curation.

But nothing in your planner, your script, your color-coded schedule has prepared you for the moment you turn around and see him.

Bucky Barnes.

Yes, it has been years since you saw him, but the sight of him still floods your chest like an old song you thought you'd forgotten, all the lyrics rushing back in the shape of his shoulders.

He is older. Broader. The kind of handsome that takes your breath in one hand and never gives it back. He’s wearing black, of course. Camera slung over one shoulder, coffee in one hand.

Your name is still caught in his mouth. He hasn’t said it yet.

Neither of you prepared for this kind of reunion.

You stare at each other from opposite ends of the sunlit ballroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Cream curtains. Gold accents. Love dripping off the walls as if it’s something that can be bottled and sold.

You were just here to meet the photographer.

You didn’t know the photographer would have blue eyes and a constellation of freckles you used to trace with your thumb. You didn’t know the photographer would be him.

You don’t move.

Neither does he.

The silence wants to say everything.

Then he smiles.

God. It’s not fair.

“Y/n,” he says. Just that. Soft, stunned.

And you’re trying to remember how to breathe around it. Around him. Around all the versions of him you’ve stored away in boxes you swore you’d never open again.

“Hey,” you say. It cracks on the way out, as though your voice wasn’t ready to time travel.

He walks toward you slowly, as if he might look at an illusion. And your feet stay planted, but your heart is already halfway across the room, tumbling back through years of memories that never got the closure they deserved.

“You’re the planner?” he asks, stopping just short of touching distance. His voice is warmer now. Familiar. It scrapes against the softest part of you.

You nod. It’s a little slow. Disbelieving. “And I assume you’re the photographer.”

You were seventeen the last time he looked at you like this.

As if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right shape for it.

Back then, it was rooftop talks and shared playlists. Passing notes between classes. His jacket draped over your shoulders when the gym got too cold.

And then came college. Different states. Different lives. The slow collapse of something you thought might survive anything.

You tried to move on.

You even believed that you had.

But now he’s here.

And everything you’ve buried rises as if it’s been waiting for air.

A beat.

A laugh.

Of course. Of course, the universe would do this.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair. It’s shorter than it was in high school, but it still curls a little at the ends when it rains. You remember that. You remember too much.

“God, you look great,” he notes, voice quiet, reminiscent.

You take a breath long enough to gather the pieces of you that almost shattered on the spot. “You do too,” you state, voice quiet as well. And he laughs again. Softer. Sadder.

You’re supposed to be here to talk centerpieces and lighting, to walk the venue, and decide where the bride and groom should take their first look photos.

Instead, you’re here suppressing all the words you wanted to say many years ago.

Instead, you’re here looking at him like you used to - like maybe, if you just held eye contact long enough, he’d kiss you again and this time he wouldn’t stop.

But this isn’t about you and him. This is about someone else’s love story.

Still, he looks at you as though maybe it could be.

“I didn’t know you were a photographer,” you state, your voice too light, too casual, as though it’s not balancing on the edge of something steep.

“I didn’t know you were a wedding planner.”

Touché.

He grins. God, that smile. The same crooked thing he used to flash at you during chemistry class when he didn’t understand the homework.

“Guess we both ended up in the business of love,” he says with that smile on his face.

You laugh. And hate how much it sounds like home.

He exhales profoundly, sweeping his eyes over your form and not even being subtle about it.

“I thought I might never see you again,” he says, and the words punch your ribcage. “I didn’t even know you were back in the city.”

“I wasn’t for a while,” you answer, trying to keep your tone casual. “But I guess weddings pull people back.” You laugh a little, though it’s rather breathless.

His grin is going to kill you. You remember it melting behind cafeteria tables and prom night lights.

“You always loved weddings,” he says softly.

You shrug, but there is heat running along your spine. “They’re honest, I guess.”

His eyes fall down to your hands. Again, not at all subtle. “Are you..?” His voice is rough. It seems he doesn’t want to say it out loud.

“No,” you answer quickly. “Just me. Just work. You?”

He shakes his head. There is relief in his stance. In his shoulders. In his voice. In his eyes. “Nah. Don’t really have the time.”

And then the silence comes back. Not heavy but waiting.

You move toward the nearest table, brushing your fingers along the edge of the centerpiece, needing to touch something, needing to start working.

You hear the click of his camera powering on.

He raises it, almost instinctively, rubbing the back of his neck before looking at you. “Can I?”

You blink. “What, take a photo?”

He nods. “I just- I want to remember this. You. Right now.”

You smirk just slightly. “So you’d forget without proof?”

Bucky’s eyes widen a little, but there is amusement glinting in his eyes. “No,” he states quickly. “‘Course not, doll,” he adds, and it seems there’s more he wants to say but he holds himself back with a bashful laugh.

But your breathing stops.

Doll.

The word falls from his mouth as if it never left. As if it hadn’t been said in years. As if he’s been saying it to ghosts all this time. As if your name has always tasted like that in his mouth - sweetened, softened, spun from golden-hour sunlight and inside jokes.

It doesn’t feel like a nickname. It feels like a door. Like a memory with a heartbeat. Like a piece of you just came home.

Because he used to say it all the time. In the hallways. After school. In the backseat of his beat-up car when your knees knocked together and the radio was too loud to hear your doubts. Hey, doll, you gonna come over tonight? Doll, you wanna split this? Come here, doll, you’re shiverin’.

He used to say it as though it’s something only you get to keep, only you get to hear. As though it’s the punctuation on every sentence you didn’t know how to finish.

And now here he is - older, broader, a little more worn in the eyes - but the word leaves his lips just the same. As if no time has passed. As if yesterday was senior prom and you were still dancing around the fact that you were in love with your best friend.

You want to say something clever. You want to laugh. Tease him. Pretend the name doesn’t matter. But it matters.

Because you’re standing in the middle of someone else’s love story, watching yours try to resurrect itself with just one syllable.

He raises his camera again, and his focused gaze cracks you right open. They’re not just blue. They’re saturated with something so much more. Like time. Like regret. Like the gravity of everything you both lost. “So, can I? Please?”

He takes a step closer. You don’t move. He’s so close you can smell his cologne now - clean, familiar, like something that never stopped lingering in your hoodie pockets long after you separated for college.

You should perhaps say no.

But the way he’s looking at you is not passive. It’s not casual.

It’s not I used to love you once.

It’s I never stopped.

There’s something so naked behind his expression it almost hurts to look at. Not just nostalgia. Not just old affection brushed off and made shiny again.

It’s hope. Hope with teeth and longing with roots and a trembling determination that seems like a vow unspoken.

You stand there, still in your wedding planner blazer and sensible shoes, and you let him see you again. Through the lens. Through the silence. Through all the almosts that never turned into certainties.

The shutter clicks.

And somehow it sounds like a beginning.

****

The couple is everywhere.

Their laughter echoes through the venue like a ribbon tied to the air, fluttering in the spaces Bucky and you fill with silence. Their fingers never stop finding each other. Their glances are magnetic, drenched in the kind of affection that dares you to look away.

They’re in the garden now, tangled in rosebushes and evening light, whispering to one another, words you’ll never know but feel anyway - like music under your skin.

Bucky photographs them while you hold the bouquet just out of frame. You try to steady your hand but your fingers are trembling. Your heart won’t behave.

And Bucky’s beside you.

He smells like pine and memory and the warmest part of the past.

You catch him smiling at the soon-to-be newlyweds through his lens and feel something strange twist behind your ribs. Because he’s good at capturing love and he does it with care. As if love is art and he’s always believed in it.

And he’s looking at them the way you used to look at him.

Then he looks at you.

And the moment snaps - clean and quick like a shutter - but it leaves an imprint.

Like film exposed to light.

Like maybe you’re still visible underneath all this distance.

You turn away too fast. Pretend to fix the placement of the aisle candles. Pretend you’re not sweating under the weight of all the things left unsaid. Pretend your heart didn’t flinch when he said doll as if it belongs to you again.

You tell yourself this is just work.

That you’ll be working with him for the next six weeks.

Six weeks of tasting and timelines and floral arrangements.

Six weeks of sharing air and avoiding eyes.

Six weeks of watching someone else’s love swell and bloom while yours sits quietly in your chest, half-buried but not dead. Never dead.

You’ll have to stand in the middle of it all.

The wedding dress fittings.

The first dance rehearsals.

The vows.

The goddamn vows.

And all the while, Bucky will be there. Photographing every moment. Documenting devotion while you wonder what it would’ve felt like to have it with him.

Because how cruel is it to work inside the machinery of love? To build it for others, beautifully, meticulously, while your own version sits on the sidelines, full of maybes?

How cruel is it to be surrounded by all this promise, all this soft forever, while the only person you’ve ever really wanted to say I do to is standing three feet away, adjusting his camera strap as though it isn’t slicing into your heart?

You breathe. You swallow down the pain. You make a note in your planner.

Tomorrow: cake testing. With the couple. With Bucky.

More love. More smiles. More of him.

God, how do you survive this?

And then you look up again and Bucky is already watching you.

Not the couple.

Not the shot.

You.

As if he is wondering the same thing.

As if maybe he’s not surviving this either.

[blackcatner00]

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist (Completed)

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

Chap 1

Chap 2

Chap 3

Chap 4

Chap 5

Chap 6

Chap 7

Chap 8

Chap 9

Chap 10

Chap 11

Chap 12

Chap 13

Chap 14

Chap 15

Chap 16

Chap 17

Chap 18

Chap 19 - End

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

My book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing are on Kindle. Check it out!

Link for Arrogant Ex-Husband

Amazon.com

Link for Dad I Can't Let You Go

Amazon.com: Dad, I Can't Let You Go eBook : Bing, Alina C.: Kindle Store

[blackcatner00]

FINAL LAP - B. Barnes | 1

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female reader

Summary: She starts her dream job at SPEED, a top PR company for sports events, only to find out her boss is Bucky Barnes—the same guy she once accidentally injured in college.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I published my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Your heart still buzzed with excitement as you stepped through the glass doors of SPEED. It was your first day — finally. You had found out you were accepted last Friday, and ever since, you could barely sit still.

Today was Monday. Game day.

You walked up to the front desk, your shoes tapping lightly against the marble floor. Behind the counter, the receptionist looked up with a friendly smile. You offered a small, slightly sheepish grin and handed over the letter you clutched in your hands.

"Hi! I’m a new employee. I don’t have my ID card yet," you explained, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

The receptionist nodded immediately, typing something quickly into her computer before pressing a button under the desk. A soft beep sounded, and the access gate unlocked.

"12th floor," she said, gesturing toward the elevators.

"Thank you," you said, a little breathless, flashing her a grateful smile.

As the elevator doors slid closed, you let out a slow, deep breath, willing your excitement (and nerves) to settle.

"Morning! You're early," a familiar voice called out.

When the elevator dinged open at the 12th floor, the first thing you saw was the giant silver logo mounted on the wall: SPEED — sleek, bold, confident. Just like the company itself.

You felt a rush of pride. You had dreamed about working here since your final year of college, inspired by your love for sports — especially running — and the buzz of live events. It was why you studied Public Relations and Business in the first place.

You turned to see Natasha approaching, her heels clicking lightly on the polished floor. She wore a smart blazer over jeans and had a coffee in hand. You instantly recognized her — she was the HR manager who had interviewed you online.

"Have to make a good impression," you replied with a slightly nervous laugh, smoothing down your blazer.

Natasha grinned, waving off your nerves. "Chill out. We love new kids around here." She gave you a playful nudge with her elbow, then gestured for you to follow her. "Come on, let’s get you set up."

She led you through the open office — a lively space with pops of color, trophies on shelves, and people already busy at their desks. She stopped at a table near the windows, dropping off a small box of starter supplies.

"You'll be working with Sam," she said, glancing at her sleek digital watch. "He should be here in... 3… 2—"

“♪ Wake me up before you go-go… ♪”

Someone's voice floated down the hallway, slightly off-key but full of energy.

You turned just as a tall guy with a wild head of curls and a worn denim jacket slid into view, dance-walking as he sang along to the music blasting from his earbuds.

Sam.

He caught sight of Natasha — and you — and dramatically yanked out one earbud.

"Hey!" he grinned, jogging the last few steps. "New blood?"

Natasha smirked. "This is Y/N. She’s joining your team."

Sam held out a hand without hesitation, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Welcome to SPEED, rookie. Hope you can keep up."

You shook his hand, laughing. "I'll try my best."

"That's the spirit," Sam said with an approving nod. "Come on, I’ll show you the ropes — or at least where the good snacks are hidden."

You were focused on your screen, typing notes, when you heard Natasha's teasing voice from across the office.

The rest of the morning flowed surprisingly easily. Your tasks were manageable, and everyone around you — from the senior staff to the interns — went out of their way to be patient and helpful. You never once felt out of place.

Instead of drowning in information, you found yourself actually smiling as you learned new things.

"You're late," she called.

A beat.

"I know," a guy’s voice answered, full of laughter. "At least I broke another record."

You were about to sneak a look at the source when Sam suddenly called out, "Come on! I'll show you where the storage is."

That voice… it sounded strangely familiar.

You furrowed your brow and glanced at your watch — it was already 11 a.m. Seriously, who even dared to stroll into the office this late?

Whatever curiosity you had instantly slipped from your mind. You grabbed your notepad and hurried after Sam.

He led you down a hallway lined with posters of past events — marathons, soccer tournaments, cycling championships. Finally, he stopped in front of a door labeled "Storage."

"This," Sam said, pushing the door open with a flourish, "is where we keep all the good stuff — supplies, merch, and sometimes, leftover medals from events."

He walked you around the space, explaining what was where and what you'd need most often. You listened carefully, occasionally nodding and asking questions, trying to absorb everything.

You blinked. "What? For me? You guys don’t have to—"

After a few minutes, Sam clapped his hands together. "Alright, let's head back. We’re having lunch together in the cafeteria.

Welcome party for you."

"It’s tradition," Sam cut you off, grinning. "We like to eat together at lunch, not at night."

You smiled at that. "That's really nice. So everyone can go home and rest early."

Sam snorted, shaking his head. "Of course not. So we can hit the gym."

"Oh." You laughed. Everyone here was athletic. Even lunchtime had a purpose.

Just then, Sam’s phone buzzed. He checked the screen and nodded. "Yup. Let’s go back. They said the food’s ready."

The moment you walked back with Sam toward the cafeteria, the nerves hit you like a wave.

Oh no. That meant... introductions. Again.

You tugged lightly at the hem of your blazer, trying to steady your breathing.

When you both entered the cafeteria, it felt like every pair of eyes turned to you.

You instinctively straightened your posture, feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights.

You wandered a little, weaving through tables filled with colorful platters and food stations, until you spotted Natasha stacking some tacos onto her plate.

But the atmosphere quickly softened.

People waved, smiled, called out casual greetings. It wasn’t tense or awkward — it was warm, almost like a big family gathering.

You made your way over. "Everyone here is really nice," you said, voice a little in awe.

"Told you," Natasha said, smiling without looking up.

You watched her build a taco with almost suspicious expertise. "This idea’s really great, y’know. Welcoming the newcomer."

Natasha chuckled. "Yeah, it was mine."

"I told you, it was a great idea," said a tall man standing beside her, casually stuffing a donut into his mouth.

You stepped closer, squinting a little, before pointing at him without thinking. "You!"

That voice.

Your stomach flipped.

The man smirked, still chewing. His smirk only grew wider when he saw the recognition (and horror) dawning on your face.

Natasha glanced between you two, curious. "Wait — you guys know each other?"

You and the tall man answered at the same time:

"He's my senior from college," you said quickly.

"She broke my leg," he said, still smirking.

Natasha gasped, nearly dropping her taco. You, meanwhile, slapped a hand over your face. "It was a misunderstanding!"

Sam, of course, couldn’t resist sliding into the conversation, grinning wide. "Ooh, this is gonna be good. So what exactly did you do that broke our boss’s leg?"

The man, your college senior, laughed softly and leaned casually against the taco station. "Don’t tell me you had no idea who owns the company you’re working for. You're still the same."

You froze.

"...Boss?" you echoed, your voice a whisper.

You stared at him, utterly mortified.

But now that you really looked at him — the strong build, the confident posture, the easy authority — the same narcissist.

No, you genuinely had no idea.

You were drawn to SPEED because of the incredible projects they managed — not because you had stalked their leadership.

Not once did you check who the founder was.

Bucky Barnes.

Your mouth went dry.

Your eyes darted down instinctively to his leg. "It... doesn’t still hurt, right?" you asked weakly.

Bucky chuckled — low, warm, and amused. "Nah. Healed a long time ago."

Still, your ears burned with embarrassment.

It was your first day on the job, and your new boss was already mentioning how you were the reason he spent six weeks on crutches.

🏃‍♂️🏃‍♀️👟🎽

This wasn’t exactly the grand entrance you imagined for yourself.

But — like you told Natasha — it really was a misunderstanding!

Flashback

Four Years Ago

The green yard was buzzing with excitement, filled with young people who couldn’t wait to start their college life. Laughter, chatter, and the rustling of luggage wheels filled the air as students moved about, wide-eyed and eager. Some clutched campus maps, others already wore university hoodies, proud to belong.

Among the crowd, a number of parents had come along, helping their children settle into their new homes. Some struggled up the dorm steps with heavy boxes, others fussed over making the beds just right, smoothing out sheets with trembling hands as if reluctant to let go. It was a bittersweet day — a day of firsts and goodbyes.

Just like them, your parents were there with you, standing near the entrance of your dorm room, looking a little lost. Your mom kept adjusting the corner of your pillow, while your dad lingered by the door, arms crossed tightly over his chest, like he was trying to hold himself back.

"You sure you want to live on campus today? You could stay at the hotel with us," your mom asked, her voice thick with emotion.

You shook your head, smiling bravely. "No. I want to stay here."

Your dad, ever the protective one, grumbled under his breath, "I wish your cousin Steve would be here."

Steve, your older cousin, was supposed to be your lifeline here — already two semesters ahead at this university, he had been a big reason your parents even agreed to let you study so far from home. But just weeks before your freshman year started, Steve had been accepted into a study exchange program abroad for one semester.

Still, your parents clearly struggled to let go. Your mom wiped her eyes quickly when she thought you weren't looking. Your dad shifted awkwardly, pretending to check his phone.

You didn’t mind. Honestly, you were excited.

This was your chance — to step out of the cocoon you had always lived in, to stretch your wings without someone hovering nearby. For once, you wanted to find your own way.

"Mom, Dad," you said gently, stepping closer to them, "I'm fine. Besides, Auntie's house is nearby if anything happens."

Your mom nodded, blinking away tears. She reached out and pulled you into a tight hug. "Can’t believe my baby is growing up."

You hugged her back just as tightly, feeling the lump rise in your own throat. "I’ll be alright. Thank you for coming here with me."

You spent a little more time with them, helping your dad find his way back to the hotel on the GPS, laughing when your mom tried to stuff one more set of snacks into your already full closet, before finally walking them to their car. As you waved them off, your heart squeezed, but excitement soon drowned out the sadness.

There was one thing you were especially looking forward to — joining the Running Community Club. The university was famous for it. Their team had not only dominated local marathons but had competed — and won — internationally. It wasn’t just a club. It was a legacy.

As soon as they left, you turned back toward campus, your steps lighter. The air smelled like fresh-cut grass and something electric — possibility.

This is it.

You were finally here, in the university you had dreamed about for years.

You wandered through the campus, past colorful booths and groups of students calling out offers to join everything from theater to debate. Your heart skipped when you finally spotted the booth you were looking for — The Horizon Running Club — under a giant banner flapping proudly in the breeze.

But it seemed you were late.

A long line had already formed in front of the booth, most of them girls, clutching applications excitedly. You caught snippets of conversation — giggles, whispers, excited chatter about someone named Bucky Barnes.

As you got in line, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out quickly and saw a text from Steve:

You knew that name.

Bucky Barnes was practically a legend here. He had broken a state record last semester and had been featured on the news — and all over your cousin Steve’s social media. Steve had practically posted Bucky’s winning sprint in slow motion.

"Hey, I just got Wi-Fi. Still registering for a new SIM card. Congrats on officially becoming a University Student!"

You smiled, thumbs moving fast to reply:

"What time is it over there?"

A few seconds later:

"3 a.m. Have you found the running booth?"

"Yup."

"I bet there’s a lot of people who want to join. Are you sure you want this? Our club only looks for people who are really committed."

"I am."

"Well, no turning back now. I'll text my friend Bucky about you. You have my full recommendation."

"Thank you for being the best cousin in the world!"

There was a long pause before he finally replied:

"...."

You waited, staring at the screen, but no more messages came.

It seemed like he had lost Wi-Fi access again.

🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

Tucking your phone back into your pocket, you stepped forward as the line moved.

You couldn't help but feel your heartbeat pick up — excitement and nerves battling in your chest.

At the running club booth, the members were clearly exhausted. After hours of registration and interviews, their energy was running low. They were growing tired of hearing the same reasons from hopeful candidates—everyone wanted to join for the same old reasons: to improve their time, get healthier, or follow the latest trend. But this club wasn't just about enthusiasm; it was about commitment.

They only wanted serious runners, people who could balance their training with their academic responsibilities. This was why their club was so respected by the faculty, including the dean. Most of the members managed to juggle their schoolwork and practice sessions without fail, setting an example for the entire university.

One member, Milo, looked especially drained. His face was flushed, and his shoulders slumped as he leaned against the booth, scribbling down notes. "We have a lot of people who want to join," he muttered, exhaustion in his voice. "But most of them have the same reason."

He glanced over at his friend, who was busy taking photos with a group of fresh-faced students. "Not my fault they're impressed with my time," Bucky replied with a cocky grin, his hands still holding the camera. "But it's easier to eliminate them. If their reason is just to improve their time and health, we’ll probably let them in."

Milo sighed deeply, rubbing a hand across his face. "If Steve was here, he wouldn’t say the same thing. He’d probably... well, he'd have a different view on this." Milo couldn't help but think that the beginnings of this club had been a bit narcissistic, especially with the attention Bucky was getting.

When your turn came, you handed over your registration paper, only to be met with a question that you hadn't anticipated.

"Hi, thank you for wanting to join this club. May I know why you want to join?" Milo asked, looking up at you with a tired but kind smile.

You blinked, taken aback. You had expected the registration process to be quick, just handing in your paperwork and moving on. But here you were, caught off guard. You turned your gaze to the person standing beside Milo.

You hesitated for a second, then met Bucky’s eyes. He was watching you, his arms crossed and a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Something about his gaze made you feel both nervous and challenged at the same time. You squared your shoulders and looked back at Milo, answering confidently, "I want to beat his record time."

The words hung in the air, and everyone nearby seemed to stop and listen. There was a moment of silence, and then Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your boldness. He leaned in slightly, his smirk widening into something almost competitive.

"Welcome to the club," Bucky said, his voice dripping with a mix of respect and challenge.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, Steve was standing in a crowded immigration line at the airport, exhausted but relieved to have finally landed. He quickly pulled out his phone and typed a message to Bucky:

🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃

Extra:

"Yoo... just landed. By the way, my cousin wants to join the running club. She's perfect for it. Her 5K record time is 15 minutes. Her name's Y/N L/N."

Not thinking much of it, Steve slipped his phone into his pocket and moved forward to check in with immigration, completely unaware that his text had 'Not Delivered.'

He hit send.

The message showed "Sending..." for a moment.

@mostlymarvelgirl

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@scott-loki-barnes

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

@sunara-luna

@kjah97

@missvelvetsstuff

My book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing is FREE on Kindle for a few days. Check it out!Link for Arrogant Ex-HusbandAmazon.comLink for Dad I Can't Let You GoAmazon.com: Dad, I Can't Let You Go eBook : Bing, Alina C.: Kindle Store

[blackcatner00]

mastermind

Dark!Bucky Barnes x Ex-bully!Reader AU 

Summary: You were mean to him back in uni, always teasing him and making fun of him. Always chasing away the few friends he had and always ruining the chances he had of making new ones. He could never figure out why he was always the butt of your jokes, why out of all the other people you could unleash your cruelty on, you picked him. But those uni years were long gone. His desire to get back at you however, was not. So now, about a whole decade later, Bucky Barnes is out for revenge. You made his life hell for years after all. But now that he’s older and stronger than he was back then, he deserves to have a little fun with you, doesn’t he? 

Themes: author!reader, ex bully!reader, mentions of bullying in the past, mild angst, smut, stalker!bucky, dark!bucky, degrading kink, fluff

Bucky stepped into the hole in the wall bar with confidence. 

He knew what he was here for. Or rather, who. 

And he spotted you right away. He’d been preparing for this meeting for the last decade, and he had all his ducks in a row now. He grabbed a beer and walked right over to where you were sitting, in a booth by yourself. A half pint of something on the table, with papers scattered everywhere while you were busy noting something down rapidly in a notebook. 

You looked good, he admitted to himself. Dark burgundy dress with a leather jacket, as if you wanted to blend into the dark and moody aesthetic of the bar and disappear. But you were one of those people who just couldn’t exactly blend in and disappear. Even when you didn’t say a word, your presence was rather loud. Sure, you’d been one of the most horrible people he’d come across in uni years ago, but you were charismatic and he couldn’t deny it. 

You had this certain pull to you, attracting everyone and everything towards you. And here he was, gravitating towards you as well. But, he reminded himself, he had a plan this time. 

“Excuse me,” He spoke in his smoothest voice, “Is this seat taken?” 

He watched you intently as you looked up from your notebook and seemed a little surprised as you gave him a slight smile and pointed at the seat across from you. You didn’t recognise him. Of course you wouldn’t, he looked entirely different. 

Bucky was used to it. That surprise on women’s faces. He looked good and he knew it. Tight black t-shirt, purposely two sizes too small just so he could show off the big arms and the back muscles that the people loved. Tattoos all over his arms, and some on his neck. He had them all over his back as well, but it was currently hidden. Small, discrete lip ring on his lower lip. Yeah, he made the ladies go crazy. 

He could tell you were having trouble looking away as well. “Aren’t you too beautiful to be here all by yourself?” He gave you a smirk, one that he knew accentuated his lip ring. He watched your gaze drop down to it quickly before looking back up into his eyes. 

You smiled, then explained. “I don’t know anyone in this city, I’m here temporarily for work. I leave in a couple of days.” 

Bucky listened with fake interest, he knew all these things already. He knew everything about you. “Oh?” He faked curiosity, “What do you do for work?” 

“I’m an author. I’m currently on my book tour.” You answered in a shy voice. 

Weird. You used to be so confident and cocky all the time in uni. This was new. Bucky quickly recovered and said, “Wait, was that you I saw on the poster outside the bookstore down the street? There was quite a crowd there.” 

You nodded sheepishly, “Yeah, that’s me. I have another book signing there tomorrow.” 

He nodded, taking a sip of his beer. “You must be really good.” 

Again, you gave him that shy shrug that confused him. Since when were you humble, or shy? 

“I’m okay, I guess. People just like to read what I write.” A pause, as you stared into his eyes, then asked, “What do you do in the city? You know, other than flirting with random women.” 

Bucky chuckled, “Oh you’re not random. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve met.” He waited to see you squirm in your seat like he knew you would. He watched how you rolled your eyes at him and shook your head. Then he said, “I own a security company. I created this app that people use whenever they need help. All they have to do is press a button and my guys show up. Anywhere, anytime. Anything from needing medical help to needing help escaping someone, domestic violence, robbers, a hostage situation, harassment, or you know,” He looked right at you as he said, “Bullies.” 

You listened, nodded and said, “That’s noble. What pushed you to make that your life’s mission?” 

Bucky leaned back into his seat. “I know what it’s like to feel defenseless. I never want anyone to feel like that. So if I can at least help some people, it makes me feel better. I guess I became what younger me needed.” 

“Why?” You questioned. “Were you hurt in the past?” 

“Yeah,” He shrugged. “But that was a long time ago.” 

Bucky began talking about something else but then noticed you were watching him a little too intensely. For a brief moment he panicked, wondering if you’d recognised him. But surely not. He didn’t look anything like he did back then. 

So he had to ask, still in the same flirty tone he’d been using the whole time, “What’s that look for?” 

He watched as you blinked a couple times, lowered your face as if shy then shook your head and said, “Nothing. It’s…,” You chuckled, “It’s gonna sound insane but you just… look so much like one of my main characters from my last book.” You then grabbed your phone and clicked a couple times before showing him a fanart. “See? Even the lip ring, and the neck tats.” 

Bucky grabbed your phone, analysing the fanart with interest. “And this guy, you like him? Is he a good guy?” 

You sighed, “He’s complicated. But yes, I love him. He’s one of my favourite characters that I’ve ever written.” A coy smile, then you said, “I just never thought I’d meet someone exactly like him. I mean, it’s like you walked out of my book.” You laughed. 

Bucky laughed too. “Well, maybe I did.” 

“Maybe.” You whispered, still looking up at Bucky dreamily. Giving him that soft look women often gave him before they invited him into their beds. 

Perfect. 

Oh. He had you right where he wanted you. It’s like you walked out of my book. He scoffed internally. For the last few years he’d been studying all your books like they were religious texts and he was a zealous man. Over the years he noticed that all your MMCs had a few features in common – tattoos, muscles, piercings, so he became them. 

Sure, maybe this was him taking it too far. After all, uni ended about a decade ago. Sure, this was petty and maybe even a waste of time. But he needed to do this for the younger him who was always so passive and never in control of the narrative. Being bullied and never having friends or anyone on his side is what made him create his app and company. Sure, this was childish revenge but it was his to take. He didn’t care. 

Besides, the look on your face would be priceless once he reveals who he is. But not yet. He had so much to do before that. So many fantasies to fulfil. So much fun to have before he told you the whole truth. 

“It’s getting late,” You told him as you began gathering your papers and notebook, “I should head back to my hotel. I have that book signing thing rather early. But, um, if you want I could leave you my number and we can meet again tomorrow?” 

Bucky smiled at you, his tongue toying with his lip ring knowing full well it would catch your attention. “Yes, please.” 

He already had your number. Screw your number, he had all your home addresses – both the penthouse, as well as the small beach house that you owned, your email addresses, your passwords, where you liked to eat, where your friends lived, where they worked, what your parents did, where they worked, all of it. He’d been keeping a close eye on you for the past decade, of course he knew everything there was to know about you. 

So he took the number, and walked you out of the bar and promised to meet up with you the next day. 

—

“Have dinner with me,” Bucky said when he saw you the following evening. “I know a cute spot, it’s lowkey and quiet. You’re gonna like it.” 

You smiled at him and nodded, “Alright.” Then you took his elbow and let him take the lead. 

He walked slowly, using the short journey as an excuse to ask you things. General stuff, things people ask on first dates. Where you grew up, what is your family like, etc. But it was hard coming up with questions when he already knew everything. Plus, he had to be careful not to ask specific things, like how did you find Bari, Italy where you vacationed with your family last year? 

Luckily the place where you were headed wasn’t too far. 

“So tell me, what is it like going from city to city and meeting all your fans?” Bucky asked you once the two of you had placed your orders. 

You smiled, as if at a memory, and said, “It’s amazing. I can’t quite put it into words. I mean, I started writing as a way to cope with just, I don’t know, life I guess. And I never thought people would end up reading, let alone even like what I write. And it kinda just happened, and next thing I knew I was receiving messages and emails and letters from all over the world. I guess, you never get tired of someone telling you just how much they like the stories you made up in your head.” You sighed again, happily this time. “It’s cliché, I know, but it’s so pure and genuine. Like these characters don’t exist in real life, I made them up. But people found them interesting enough to read about them, and like them.” You giggled. 

Bucky felt like someone had slapped him the moment he heard that giggle. What the hell was happening to him? Did he, dare he say, find you endearing? What the fuck. 

You continued, unbeknownst to the internal turmoil Bucky was going through. “So yeah, the fans are literally the reason why I do what I do. They give me so much strength and they don’t even know it. Sometimes just reading or re-reading a sweet message someone left me months ago can turn a bad day into a really good one, or make a terrible day slightly more tolerable.” You paused, gazing into Bucky’s eyes. “Writing saved me, but my fans, my readers, they made my life so much more beautiful and worth living.” 

Well, he wasn’t expecting that. At all. He knew you didn’t have ghost writers or anything. He knew you’d been consistent with your book releases. But he never knew you had such… depth. He always only ever saw you as the bitchy girl who bullied him in uni and made his life hell. For the first time in years, Bucky wavered a little bit when it came to you. For the first time in years, he wondered whether this was worth it. 

“I see,” He spoke quietly, “So no downsides to being a well-loved author?” 

You chuckled, “Some. Like most things. I mean, this doesn’t happen a lot but a couple of times I’ve had people show up to my hotel room or my house even, demanding to know what happens in the next book. It’s scary, but, I mean I’ve dealt with it and I hope it doesn’t happen again.” 

Perfect. Bucky smiled, then said, “You know, you should hire security. At least when you’re touring. I can arrange it, I’ll send you some of my best guys. They’ll be discrete, and you won’t have to worry about anything.” 

He was pleased with how easily you agreed. Now he could have eyes on you all the time without all the secrecy. 

And the rest of the dinner went by smoothly. 

He thought he’d have to put in a lot more work. But when he dropped you off at your hotel lobby, and you asked him if he wanted to come up for a drink, he was pleasantly surprised. But of course he agreed and followed you to your room. 

You offered him a glass of red wine, he accepted. 

You made small talk, your eyes never leaving his. Bucky put on a show. Touching your hands, your face, but just enough to leave you wanting more. He watched how you lowered your head each time he gave you a compliment. But none of the compliments were lies, even despite all the hatred he felt towards you he had to admit, you were very beautiful. 

He also noted the way you kept scooting closer and closer to him on the couch. Out of nowhere, Bucky said, “You know, I googled you last night. And I came across some rather… naughty stuff that you’ve written.” 

You laughed and said, “In my world, we call those spicy scenes.” 

Bucky nodded, “I see. And are any of those based on real life?” 

There was that shy look on your face again. “Some are.” 

There was this unexplainable wave of discontent that washed over him upon hearing that. He didn’t know why but the thought of you having sex with someone else and it being good enough for you to write about it almost made him want to get up and leave. He hated it. 

“So if I fuck you, will you write about it?” He asked, so serious all of a sudden. 

You didn’t look away from his eyes as you replied, “Only if you’re memorable enough.” 

He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his mouth. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

He shook his head and reached for you, “Come here then,” He guided you over his lap so you could straddle him. He leaned in and whispered, “I’ll show you memorable enough.” 

You placed your hands on his shoulders, feeling all the hard muscles underneath his thin t-shirt while his hands slid up and down your sides as his lips kissed all over your neck. He hummed and breathed and chuckled right into your ear as he explored your body. Then, getting impatient he asked, “Can I please take your dress off?” 

Within the next few seconds, you were completely bare in his lap. 

“So beautiful,” He murmured, looking at you with those gorgeous eyes that he knew could make people melt so easily. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He whispered along your collar bones, kissing and licking your skin. You inched closer to him, rubbing your crotch against his clothed but erected cock, making the both of you gasp and moan. “Yeah? Is that what you want?” He teased, tightening his grip on your waist just a little and pulling you closer to him, nuzzling your neck again. 

You slid your fingers into his hair and whispered into his ear, “Yes, please.” 

He hid the fact that your voice made him shiver. He shook it off as quickly as he could. Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan. 

Bucky recovered, and smirked against your skin the moment he heard you gasping and whining under his touch. “What do you want, huh?” He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly, grounding you on his clothed cock in the process, “My fingers?” He reached up to grab the back of your neck, tilting your head back so he could kiss and whisper against your skin, “My mouth? Or my cock?” 

You whined, then said, “Your cock, please.” You begged him. And fuck, it was satisfying to hear. Just what he wanted. 

He chuckled, letting his hand rest at your butt, bringing your body closer to his. How long had he waited to have you at his mercy like this? He was gonna have all the fun he’d dreamt of having. “Well then you have to work for it.” He said, teasing you. “Now come on, take it out and slide it in you.” 

Bucky leaned back and watched each one of your moves. The desperation in your eyes as you stared up at him, how your eager hands rapidly undid his pants to free his throbbing cock. How you handled him like he was nothing but just a hot fling. 

Oh baby, Bucky scoffed mentally, you have no idea who I am, do you? 

He caught the way you whimpered under your breath at the sight of him, like the rest of him, his cock was nice and thick too. 

He watched as you wrapped your hand around him, slowly stroking his veiny cock, making him throw his head back and groan under his breath. “I said put it inside you, baby.” He bit his lower lip to keep from moaning too much. 

Bucky watched you as you lifted your body off of his lap and aligned the tip of his cock to your hole and then slowly, slowly sank down on him. You both moaned, watching his cock disappear inside of you. 

“Fuck…” You moaned, looking at him with that damned innocent look in your eyes. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. “Come here,” He growled once he was nice and deep inside your warm, wet hole. Grabbing you by the throat, Bucky pulled you closer and kissed you hungrily. Growling into your mouth about how good it felt to be inside you, “You did such a good job. Look how pretty you look, filled with my cock, huh? Do you realise how pretty you look, baby?” 

You whined against his mouth, begging, immediately grinding your hips against his, desperate for some friction. For any kind of movement. Just needy. 

“Please…” 

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you now.” He whispered against your mouth, your warm breaths mingling. “I’ve got you. I’ll make it feel good, okay?” His hands grabbed you by the hips as he carefully helped you lift your lower body up and then slowly, lowering you down his cock again. “That feels good, doesn’t it?” 

You nodded, looking down to see where your bodies connected and the sight of it, of his cock stretching you out was just sinful. 

“You feel perfect, you know that?” Bucky grabbed and held your hips in place, gently thrusting his hips up, making you moan as he filled you up, “Just a perfect girl for me, aren’t you? Who would’ve thought, huh?” 

It was a good thing you were too lust-drunk to fully process his ramblings. 

Bucky leaned in to kiss your open mouth again, moving your body gently, rocking you back and forth on his cock to get you to get used to the girth of him. His cock throbbed against your walls, causing the tiniest bit of friction which drove you insane and turned you into a teary, mumbling mess. “Aww baby, what is it? Is it too much? Hmm?” He teased, placing his thumb against your clit and rubbing it slowly while still moving your hips back and forth. “Is that too much?” 

You looked into his eyes with your teary ones and said, “You… feel so good.” You whined. 

Bucky smirked. Right where he wanted you. He let go of your hips, no longer helping you to move. “Go on then, take what you want. And make it good for me.” 

Sheepishly, you lifted your lower body slightly, before sliding back down on his cock. Now that he wasn’t helping you, it was way harder than earlier. You struggled to make him fit for a moment. But only for a moment. 

You whimpered and he groaned once he fit snug inside of you again. The tip of his cock reaching sensitive places you never knew existed. 

“That’s good, baby.” Bucky murmured, caressing your thigh. “But open your eyes. I want you to look at me while you take my cock so perfectly like my good girl. You hear me?” 

You looked right at him, nodding as you began riding his cock as best as you could before you finally found the right pace and rhythm. You moved faster then, impaling yourself down on his cock each time, whimpering shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. 

“That’s it. Take it, take all of me in that tight, perfect little cunt…” He leaned in to kiss you, biting down and tugging at your bottom lip while you sped up, his cock stretched you out each time he filled you up.

His hand circled around your waist, his muscular arms caging you in and he pulled your warm body closer to his. You were nothing but a moaning mess at this point. 

You bounced on his cock moaning and whining, feeling him stretch you out. Bucky now held you at your waist and rhythmically thrust his hips up each time to match your movements. Brows furrowing and panting while you rode his cock, throwing his head back and growling in pleasure. 

“You feel so fucking good…” He tried to contain his grunts, “Oh fuck, you’ll get me addicted to this cunt, huh? And I’ll want it every day now. But you’ll give it to me, won’t you? You’ll let me fuck it, or taste it, or both, won’t you, angel?” 

“Yes,” You whined, nodding helplessly. “Whatever you want.” 

He chuckled, kissing down your neck and whispering against your skin about how perfect you felt around him. He panted against your skin, kissing you all over, “This cunt is mine now, you hear me? All fucking mine. All of it.” 

“Yes…”

You didn’t slow down when you felt your orgasm wash over you, and Bucky kept thrusting his hips up into you even as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came.

“Oh fuck!” You cried out, your walls squeezing and clenching around him as you came undone, all that pressure exploding in a satisfying way. 

Bucky came right after you, his warm load spilling inside of you, filling you up as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed your trembling body closer to his. 

— 

“I wish I could stay in the city a little longer.” You mumbled against his chest. 

Bucky smirked, his fingers mindlessly tracing random shapes on your skin. “Where are you going after this?” 

You told him which city you were off to the next day for more book signings and readings. And Bucky pretended to be surprised, as if he didn’t know already, “I’m headed there too. One of our offices there needs me for something.” Lies. “I’ll leave in a day or two.” 

You sat up at the sound of that, looking down at Bucky with a mischievous look in your eyes. Bucky smirked because he could already see your thought process. 

“Could we, um, see each other again?” You asked, still a little shy. 

Bucky reached out to touch your face, playing the part of the enamoured stranger too well. “Of course we can, angel. I’ll come find you, don’t you worry.” 

— 

It was almost too easy to find you again. His guards who were watching over you let him know of all your moves, where you were, which hotel you stayed at, where your event was held, what time, etc. 

So finding you at your book signing event, and surprising you by sneaking around and pulling you into a nearby utility closet was not a problem at all. 

You gasped, in surprise, then let out a chuckle once you realized it was just him. “Bucky!” 

Bucky pulled you close and gave you a gentle kiss. “I’ve missed you, angel.” 

You relaxed in his arms, “But I saw you just two nights ago.” 

“I know,” He leaned in to kiss your neck. “Still missed you,” He whispered. 

You let out a soft moan when he licked and bit your skin. “Bucky…” You groaned, then giggled when his rough stubble tickled your neck. And that cold metal of his lip ring making you shiver.  “I have to be out and take pictures in a while.” 

He pulled away immediately. “Sorry, I thought–,” 

“No,” You cut him off, again with that shy but mischievous look in your eyes. Then you leaned in and whispered against his mouth, “I didn’t say we had to stop.” You pressed a soft kiss to the side of his mouth, right on his lip ring. 

Then you kissed his neck, then slowly got down on your knees. Your hands trailing down his body until you reached his belt buckle. 

Okay. This was not in the plan. Bucky thought in his head. 

“Can I?” You asked, looking up at him with those eyes of yours. 

Fuck. Fuck! How long had he waited for this? Years. Even in uni, even when he hated you, he was just a young man and he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees for him. Fuck. Focus, Bucky, focus! 

“Go ahead, baby.” He whispered. “It’s all yours to play with.” 

Those words made you hurry. You rapidly undid his belt, unzipped his pants and freed his hard cock. The mere sight of it had you whimpering with need. You wrapped your hands around him and placed your mouth on his tip, your tongue slowly circling his tip before you slowly took more of him, as much as you could fit, into your mouth. 

You looked up and found him looking down at you intensely, blinking slowly, eyes heavy with lust, and breathing heavily. Fuck, he was a sight, you thought. The lip ring on that swollen, soft, pink lower lip. Those tattoos peeking from under the collar of his shirt, the tattoos along his muscular forearms… 

You kept your eyes on his gorgeous face as you sucked on his cock. He had the kind of manly beauty that made you want to worship him with your mouth. Usually, you’d never get down on your knees this quickly for any man. But Bucky… he was special, wasn’t he? 

Bucky closed his eyes momentarily, lips parted and gasping as he tilted his head back. “Fuck…” he moaned and you only quickened your pace. He moved his hips forward, gently fucking your mouth. He looked back down and smirked, you looked magnificent on your knees, taking him perfectly.

“Is this what you’ve been dreaming of doing for the past two days, huh?” He teased. “While you’re out there innocently reading your books, and signing autographs for your fans, and smiling for pictures, is this what was in the back of your mind, angel?” 

You nodded, your mouth still full of him. 

Bucky chuckled, “Yeah, not so innocent, are you?” He carefully quickened the pace at which he moved in and out of you, eager to chase his orgasm. “You’re lucky you have to go back out there and look presentable, otherwise I’d make a mess all over your face, baby.” He said, then hissed when you took him out of your mouth, licking his cock from bottom to top while your hands toyed with his balls. “Oh, you little tease.” He smirked. “No more teasing, baby, come on. Put it back in your mouth.” He ordered. 

And you listened. You took him back into your mouth and sucked on his cock until he came undone all over your tongue. Bucky came with a loud sigh, closing his eyes and relishing the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him. You swallowed all of him, licked him clean and zipped his pants back up and did his belt again before standing up to face him again. 

He smiled at you. “I’m gonna return the favour later, okay?” 

You nodded while he wiped the corners of your mouth with his thumbs, and fixed your hair as best as he could. Bucky loved the dreamy look in your eyes. 

You slid him your hotel room key and said, “See you later, Bucky.” Then you left the closet with a wink. 

Bucky stayed there for a minute. Alone and thinking. This was easier than he thought. He kinda hoped you’d play hard to get a little more, but this was great too. 

—

Bucky did show up to your hotel room that night. He had a favour to return after all. But then, after that night, things went a little off his initial plan. 

Bucky ended up following you around the world for the next month or so, going from city to city. Fucking in hotel rooms, or anywhere he could get you alone. He ended up infiltrating each one of your events, sometimes he’d show up just so he could then take you out for dinner after a long day, then he’d end up sleeping in your bed each night. 

He knew he was deviating from his plan. But what could he do? He was having fun, and so were you. Neither one of you was putting a label on this thing anyway. Plus, he had waited for this for so long. So he let it happen for some more weeks, shamelessly enjoying anytime he got to have you under him, or be under you, or touching you, or kissing you. All for the sake of younger him, of course. 

Bucky let it go like this until you were nearing the last leg of your tour. And you had about a week off before the last few remaining events. 

It was time, he realised. To mess with you a little more. 

So he made you an offer he knew you wouldn’t refuse. 

The two of you were in your penthouse, back in your city. And Bucky had travelled with you. The two of you could barely keep your hands off each other. So here you were now, early morning, cuddling in bed. 

“How would you like a weekend getaway, baby? At a nice cabin, small town, endless woods,” He proposed, pulling you closer under the covers since you were both refusing to get out of bed that morning. “Just you, and me, and a hot tub.” He whispered, kissing your face while you writhed in his arms, giggling and trying to get away because you were really ticklish. “And lots of sex.” 

You laughed, finally out of his embrace, and got up to straddle him, pinning his arms in place as you looked down at him. Both of you completely naked, but who cared? “I wake up sore everyday because of you.” 

Bucky smirked, freeing his hands from your grip easily. “Weird, ‘cause you never complain when we’re doing it.” He spoke, his hands mindlessly caressing your bare thighs. “In fact, you always ask for more.” 

“Right.” You smacked his chest playfully. “And now you want to lock me inside a cabin with you? We won’t ever leave the bed. I still have work to do, you know? I should’ve started working on my next book weeks ago.” You said, “But a certain tattooed, blue-eyed hottie is ruining my plans.” 

He laughed at the irony of what you said. “Oh come on, angel,” He pleaded. “I just want one weekend alone with you. Just one. Where we don’t have to meet or interact with other people. It’ll be just us.” 

You smiled and nodded, “Fine. I should start packing.” 

— 

The cabin was everything. Much larger than you expected. Bucky told you that this was one of his favourite properties that he owned, at the foot of a mountain, surrounded by dense, foggy woods, the rich veridian pine trees, the dark mountains, and rain clouds. 

It was the perfect setting to get some writing done as well, you thought. 

“Oh! This is perfect, Buck!” You said the moment you stepped inside the log home. The setting sun really added to the charm of the place. You spun in slow circles, taking it all in. The high ceiling, the grand staircase, the nice kitchen, the neat living area with the comfiest chairs by the large windows, and the giant fireplace. 

You immediately walked over to the biggest chair with the softest cushions and plopped down on it with a happy sigh. “I never wanna leave.” You squealed, giggling as you squirmed and buried deeper into the cushions. “Can I just stay here forever? Look at this place, Buck!” 

Bucky was frozen in place. Watching you. Unable to take his eyes off you. The happy smiles, the way you made sure to point out all the things you liked and compliment them. The way you immediately made yourself at home. The way you chose the most comfortable spot and decided that was your spot, like a house cat by a sunny window. 

What the hell was he feeling?! And why did he feel kinda bad for having led you on this whole time? Was he doing the wrong thing? Messing with you was the plan, but then what? What after that? Was he being ridiculous? Did he just waste years of his life planning and plotting when he could’ve just let it all go and move on? Uni was years ago. Was this all a childish utter waste of time and energy? 

Fuck. He cursed himself. What was he doing? It was obvious that you weren’t the same person you were back then. People had the right to change and they did all the time. 

“Bucky?” Your voice dragged him back to reality. “Are you okay?” You got up from your chair and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around him as you said, “Thank you for bringing me here, I love it.” You buried your face into his chest and sighed, “You seem tired. Can we get into the hot tub now? I think we both need to relax for a minute.” 

He looked down at you and nodded, smiling as he touched your face gently. “Of course, angel.” 

— 

Bucky knew he seemed distant while he was in the hot tub with you, not even the breathtaking view of the woods and the lights from the small town could cheer him up. His mind was far away, even while you were in his lap. 

“Hey,” You whispered, leaning in to kiss his rough cheek. “What’s going on with you?” You asked quietly. 

“Nothing.” He forced a soft smile and said, “Just work stuff.” 

You looked a little disappointed. “I thought you wanted this time away from everyone.” 

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him, your bare chest pressing against his. “I know, baby. I’m sorry. I’ll stop worrying about the rest of the world.” He nuzzled your neck and kissed you until you giggled, until that disappointed look on your face disappeared. “It’s just you and me.” 

Then what started out as innocent kisses, turned into steamy making out, then turned into the two of you fucking until you were completely spent. 

— 

The next two days went by quickly. Bucky lost track of time since he was so lost in you. It was so easy to pretend. To pretend that this was real and that he wasn’t just here with you because of some grunge he’d been nurturing since he was in his early twenties. 

But then came your last night here at his log home. And Bucky could barely sleep. He kept tossing and turning, while you were sleeping soundly next to him. He was feeling a lot. Anger, regret, guilt. 

He couldn’t stay in bed any longer. So he got up and walked downstairs, straight to that secret door behind which was his ‘study room’. This room contained everything he knew and had gathered about you since his uni days. Photographs, addresses, phone numbers, everything. And there, occupying the entirety of one of the walls was the bulletin board he used to keep track of everything. Where you went, who you met, details about people from your inner circle, literally everything. 

Bucky stood in front of the giant bulletin board that had a picture of you right in the middle, surrounded by pictures of you no one else had, pictures you didn’t even know were taken of you. In hotel lobbies, at airports, inside your homes, and more. Bucky’s eyes followed that red thread he used to mark each step of his ‘plan’, and the rope ended here – at the log house. The was plan was simple, all he had to do was– 

“What the hell is this?” A shaky voice asked from behind him. 

Bucky froze for a second, then kept his calm. Fuck it. He wasn’t gonna be able to pretend for much longer anyway. “I thought you were sleeping.” 

He turned around and faced you. You stood at the door which he carelessly forgot to lock behind him. There, in your pink PJs, looking at him with accusation and fear in your eyes. He hated that look. Suddenly Bucky was even angrier, at himself, at the situation he thought he had under control, at everything. 

He knew how this looked. He was standing a few feet away from you with a poker face, and that damn wall behind him was like a silent but deadly monster ready to pounce. He noticed the way you were shaking already. 

“Who are you?” You asked him, hands trembling even as you tried to keep your calm. Acting rash wouldn’t help you. 

So smart. So brave. 

“Forgot me so soon, angel?” Bucky scoffed, “You don’t remember me? It’s only been, what, like ten years since uni? James? The kid with glasses you liked to bully? You’d slash my tires for fun,” He began listing, “You’d make up rumours about me, you’d chased away all the friends I made, you’d cast me out and make sure I was alone all the time, you really did act like it was your world and we were all just living in it back then, remember? You and your minions?” Bucky shook his head, “I know you remember.” 

A shaky exhale, then you whispered under your breath, as if to yourself, starting to back away as the realisation set in. “No… why would you–,” 

Bucky reached for and grabbed your wrist before you could get away from him. He slammed the door shut behind you and pushed you against it. Once locked, the door only opened with the code was entered. And you didn’t know the code, so you were well trapped with him in this room. 

“Why would I?” He asked, dramatically. Placing his hands on the door behind you, trapping you between the hard, cold wood and his body, his tattooed, bare chest pressing against you. Bucky said, “Because you made my life hell that’s why. I’m not that kid anymore.” He whispered, his tone icy and mean. “I’m all grown up now, and I deserve to have some fun, don’t I?” He watched as tears fell down your face. “Aww, are you crying, baby? Hmm?” He leaned closer to you and whispered against the side of your trembling mouth, knowing his beard felt rough against your skin, “You ruined my plans with your pretty face, with that sweet look in your eyes, and your addicting fucking pussy, and now you’re crying?” He taunted, enjoying the way you gasped in surprise at his crude words. 

He also noted how you didn’t even try to push him away. It’s like you rolled over and admitted defeat. You weren’t even trying to fight back. But you did look terrified. 

Bucky pulled away to look into your eyes. “I intended to mess with you for a little bit, and make you pay for how you treated me all those years ago.” He explained. “But having you mess with my head in return wasn’t in the plans, you know?” 

“Please,” You whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please let me go. I’ll do anything, Bucky. I’m sorry.” More tears rolled down your cheeks. “Please.” You begged again. 

Bucky, despite the guilt he’d felt just moments ago, scoffed in your face with a smirk on his own. “That’s not what you were begging for just an hour ago, was it?” Bucky pouted and then with his best whiny voice mocked you, “‘oh please baby, that’s it, fuck you feel so good. More, more, please, oh fuck please–,” 

You cut him off with a slap across the face. Bucky chuckled like an asshole, not feeling the pain at all, even though it sent his face sideways because he wasn’t expecting it. And somehow getting a reaction out of you tasted so sweet. He wanted more. 

“Do you remember now? Remember how you made my life miserable?” He asked. 

Sniffling, you asked him back, “What do you want? I said I was sorry.” 

“Oh no. You don’t get to just apologise. For four years of my life, I’d wake up every single day and hate it.” He said. “Because of you and your cool group of friends.” His tone was so bitter it was unrecognizable. “Did it make you feel good? Making fun of me? Did it make you feel all big and powerful, picking on me?” 

You shook your head, sniffling. Looking like you regretted it now. Part of him wanted to end this weird interrogation, but he also needed to know, didn’t he? 

So he asked. “Then why did you do it?” 

Silence. 

One of his hands left the door and wrapped itself around your throat. Bucky felt how you tensed under his touch as he pressed himself against you even more, making sure you couldn’t slip away. 

“Buck–,” You squealed, but the way he tightened his grip just a little made you stop. 

Bucky continued with his taunts. “Writing all those things on my door. Spreading rumours about me. Ruining any chance I had at real friendships with people. You think that was funny?” 

You finally found your voice, though quiet and pleading. “Those were stupid, childish pranks, Bucky please, and I am so s–” 

He cut you off again, raising his voice a little. “Childish pranks to you! For me those childish pranks of yours made my life hell for four years.” He scoffed. “You were the popular girl everyone wanted. Your parents were rich. You had everything most of us didn’t have. So why did you do it?” He questioned. “Why did you pick on me? Why not the others? What did I ever do to you to deserve that treatment?” His voice went down so low it made you tremble. 

He loved it. The power he held in that moment. For a moment, he wished the younger him had felt half the way he felt right now. He decided to mess with you just a little more. Scaring you with his words, because he knew he could never hurt you. Not like this. “We’re all alone up this mountain, you know?” He said, in a calm voice that only made your tears flow even more. “No neighbours,” He reminded you. “No one to hear you scream, no one to help you.” He surprised himself with how cold he sounded, like he was someone else. 

“Please.” You begged, unable to say anything else. 

“I used to dream about this, you know?” He confessed. “About having you at my mercy. About having you plead and beg me.” He chuckled, staring right into your eyes. “It’s fucked up, you see? I could never understand it.” 

He tilted his head to the side, sliding his thigh in between your legs, loving the way you gasped and instinctively, mindlessly spread your legs ever so gently to let him in, it was barely noticeable. 

“As much as I hated you before, as much as you were a total bitch to me, I never stopped wondering what it would be like to be inside you.” He scoffed, as if at a memory. “I used to fantasize about it back in uni too. I always wondered what it would be like to have you open and soft and wet for me.” He pressed his leg up against your core. “To hear you purr and moan, and fuck me,” He laughed, “You’re better than what I imagined.” 

You were trapped in place, unable to move, unable to look away. Bucky could tell you were scared, but there was something else in your eyes that he couldn’t quite name. A strange calmness of sorts. 

Bucky continued his monologue, rubbing his thigh so gently in between your legs. He doubted you even noticed because all you did was stare at him with teary eyes, that strange look in them, and your soft mouth slightly open. “So what is it about you, huh?” He squeezed his hand around your throat for just a second before letting go, he could feel your pulse quicken. “What is it about this god damn pussy that made me ruin my own plans.” He scoffed in disappointment. “I never intended to keep you around for so long. I wanted to bring you up here as quickly as possible, mess with you a little bit, scare you and send you running. And in the meantime make you regret how you treated me all those years ago.” 

Bucky pulled his thigh away from yours, and smirked when you gasped at the loss of contact. Ah, so you were enjoying it. He was sure he looked just as smug as he felt. 

“But,” Bucky continued, “All I’ve done since I met you is be buried deep into that pussy. And anytime I’m not in there I think about it. About you. About your taste. The sounds you make when I’m fucking you. The way you say my name. The way you look under me. The way your arms and legs wrap around me so perfectly…” He trailed off, noticing the way you squeezed your eyes shut, as if not facing him would erase all those weeks you spent tangled with one another. 

“Look at me,” He murmured, still in that mean and cold voice. The one he could barely recognise. He didn’t sound like someone who hated you. He sounded like someone who was obsessed. “A few weeks in your company and I’m willing to do just about anything to keep you looking at me with that dreamy look in your eyes.” He said, sincerely. “I wanna give you everything. Wanna take you anywhere you wanna go. Show you everything. Make all your wishes come true.” 

He noticed your eyes were still shut. So he got bolder, he reached for your hair and grabbed a fistful securely in his grip, tilting your head back so you had no choice but to open your eyes in fear, panic, and… that strange look he couldn’t quite decipher. “Look at me!” He hissed. “Look at what you’ve done to me! Haven’t you fucked with my head enough?!”

You spoke up this time. Pleading again, “Bucky, I’m so sorry. I mean it. I wasn’t– I wasn’t thinking back then.” You sniffled. “I was so stupid, everything I did was so stupid, Bucky please. I really am sorry.” 

“Yeah?” He sounded bored. Then like a switch, he went back to being icy again. “You wanna make up for it?” 

A blink. Silence. Then you said, “Don’t hurt me.” 

Bucky chuckled. “Oh baby,” He cooed, “Is that what you think I’m gonna do? Hurt you? If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it that same night at the bar.” He shook his head, his hand leaving your hair, coming down to trace the shape of your mouth. “Hurting you was never in the plans.” 

You shivered. 

“Making you beg for it was.” He stated. “And you will.” He sounded so confident. “You will beg me for it, won’t you? Hmm? You’ll beg me to fuck you. And then you’re gonna say you’re sorry. And you’ll really mean it this time. You want that, don’t you, baby?” He smirked. “Of course you do. Otherwise why would you be rubbing yourself all over me like that?” 

You froze, probably just now realising what you’d been doing this whole time. Bucky couldn’t help the smug smirk. Oh fuck, this is everything he’s ever dreamt of. So he reached for you, his hands sliding right up in between your legs. 

He watched how you frowned for a moment as he rubbed his fingers against your clothed, but embarrassingly wet folds. Your thin, little satin shorts were barely a barrier. 

“Oh?” He teased, “Treating you like a little slut doesn’t turn you off, does it?” He pulled you closer by your throat and you shivered again, whimpering quietly. You gasped as he lazily circled your clothed clit, smearing your wetness around. “You filthy, little whore.” He chuckled, then pushed your shorts and underwear to the side to touch you properly. You let out an involuntary moan and he smirked, pressing his lips against yours but not kissing you yet. “Yeah? You like that?” 

“Please…” You pleaded, still not pushing him away. Your hands remained at your sides. Your body felt warm under his touch, and he couldn’t get enough of it. 

“Please what?” He almost growled as he slid a finger inside you and felt you immediately clench hard around him. “See? This is what I’m talking about. It was so much easier to hate you when I didn’t know what you felt like, what you tasted like,” He spoke, his lips leaving your mouth and trailing to your ear where he whispered, “Now all I wanna do is get inside you and make you happy.” He sighed, then chuckled at the ridiculousness of it all. “What the hell are you doing to me?” 

Hearing you whine and gasp as he slowly pumped his finger in and out of you was divine. 

He added another finger. “Look at you,” He taunted, “Do you feel powerful now as you did back then? Hmm?” He spoke against your cheek, his hot breath fanning your face as he pulled away just a little to look at you. “Is this where you thought you’d be one day, you little slut? At my mercy?” He chuckled, removing his hands from in between your legs as he pulled you away from the door, keeping his hand at your throat simply because he wanted to and moved you until you were sitting on the edge of his large, nearby desk. 

He stepped away for a moment, just to look at you and your slightly disheveled state. Your satin PJs sticking to your now damp with sweat skin. You were breathing heavily, your hands clutching the edge of his desk for dear life. 

“I want you to get naked and bend over the desk.” 

You remained frozen in place, even when the order left his lips. Bucky toyed with his lip ring, before pulling it into his mouth while he stared into your eyes. “Did you not hear me?” 

Finally finding your voice, you whispered again, “Bucky, I said I was sorry.” 

Bucky stepped closer until he stood right in front of you and reached out to grab your hair at the back of your neck again, fisting it securely in his grip as he tugged just a little to tilt your head back. It seemed to be the only way he got your attention. He leaned in to nuzzle your neck, kissing along your throat, lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “I don’t want your apology. I want you begging for me. Now, didn’t you hear what I said? I told you to bend over the desk for me.” He used that tone again, the icy one. The one that said you were in trouble if you didn’t do what he asked. 

So you did. 

When he released you, you held his stare with some cold defiance in your eyes as you discarded your PJs. You’d gotten naked with him multiple times over the last month or two, so this was nothing. Once done, you turned around and bent over the edge of his large desk. 

You sighed in defeat when your cheek pressed against the cold surface of the polished wood, your hands laid palm down on each side of your head. You ass pressed against the front of his sweatpants and you whimpered at the feel of his thick, hard cock beneath the fabric, rubbing against your soft folds. 

You felt his hands on your body. He placed his hands on each side of your waist and caressed your body, rubbing up and down along your sides, touching your ass but not once touching you right where you needed him to. 

You gasped, then he noticed you quickly bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning too loud. 

He scoffed before pinching your skin to make you gasp again, “I wanna hear every little sound you make.” He finally trailed his fingers down in between your legs and lazily traced along your slit. “So wet and ready for me.” He chuckled. 

He heard your gasping and whimpering as quietly as you could as he lazily finger-fucked you. You whined as he touched a sensitive spot inside you. Teasing you a bit more before pulling out. 

Bucky lowered his sweats to free his cock, then his hands were on you again. He grabbed you on either side of your hips before pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. But he didn’t slide his cock inside of you yet. 

He waited, he could almost feel your heart racing as he did nothing but wait for a reaction from you. He caught the way you discretely tried to push back into him but he moved away, chuckling as you whined in desperation. 

“Aww, what is it?” He asked, leaning over your exposed back. His chest pressing down onto you as he whispered into your ear. “You want this cock? Huh? You want it so bad, don’t you?” He hissed, “Then beg for it, slut.” 

He heard a weak, “Please,” but that wasn’t enough now, was it? 

“I said, beg.” 

“Please… Bucky, I– I want your cock. So bad.” You whispered. “Please, can I have it?” Like you were ashamed of wanting him. “I’ll be good from now on, I promise.” 

He wasn’t expecting that last part, but honestly, how sweet was it to hear! 

Pleased with your begging, Bucky groaned under his breath as he pushed himself slowly inside of you, feeling your walls tighten around him. You whimpered as he filled you up, stretching you as he went. 

He pulled out and thrust deep into you once again, making you moan and gasp under him. “You’ll be good, huh?” He reached out and grabbed your wrists, pinning them down at your lower back as he started rocking into you. Slowly at first, then gradually building up his pace. “Just this cock has you acting right, huh?” He laughed as he fucked deep into you, your front bumping against the edge of the desk each time. 

“Yes…,” You admitted. You whimpered as he pounded even harder into you at the sound of that confession. His pelvic bone smacking against your ass each time he thrust into you.

“Yeah? Not such a proud, arrogant little slut now, are you?” He growled, tightening his grip on your wrists as he fucked you harder, feeling your walls getting tighter around him. “Huh? You’re not as bitchy as you were back then, look at you now. All nice and bent over my desk.” He hissed, “Don’t you dare fucking come yet!” 

You whined, “Bucky, I can’t-,” 

He cut you off quickly, “Yes you fucking can.” He snarled. “You said you were gonna be good from now on, right? Well hold it then, don’t fucking come yet.” He slammed his cock harder into you, making your eyes squeeze shut. He thrust so deep into you that even the desk moved a little, screeching as it did across the floor. 

A loud moan escaped your mouth and Bucky smirked. Looks like you were enjoying this a little too much, huh? He couldn’t have that just yet, now could he? So he pulled out and pulled you up and off the desk, turning you around so you faced him. 

Your lips parted as you gasped for air, your tear stained face was a sight to behold. And that wild hunger in your eyes because even given the situation, he fucked you good and knew how to make you want more of it, and he knew that. 

“Get on your knees.” He ordered. “Now.” 

He was surprised at how quick you were, obeying immediately, falling perfectly on your knees in front of him. You watched him with a hunger in your teary eyes. And that strange look still. You kept your eyes on his as he grabbed his glistening cock at the base and guided his tip over to your already open mouth, spreading your own wetness all over your mouth and said, “Be a good little slut, and suck.” 

You did. You opened wide as he pushed himself deeper and deeper into your mouth. You took him in slowly until he hit the back of your throat. He gripped the back of your neck, keeping you in place as he spoke, “Now, worship this fucking cock like it’s the only thing you’re good for. He smirked as you began moving immediately, “That's it. Make me fucking come, you filthy little slut.” 

You looked up at him, and for a moment, Bucky was fully captivated. Like he was in a trance. There you were, kneeling before him with his cock in your mouth like it’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted to do. Just like how he’d always dreamt of. 

“Oh, look at you,” He cooed, as if mocking you. “Working hard for this cock, huh? Remember that night at the bar, bet you wanted it right there. You could barely wait to have it, could you? You barely bothered to ask me my full name,” He chuckled. “You were just so hungry for it.” Bucky let out a carefree chuckle as he looked down at you, “Tell me, do you still want it just the same now that you know who I really am?” He asked, knowing damn well you couldn’t respond with his cock filling your mouth. 

Another tear dropped from your eye, but then you nodded awkwardly, mouth still around his tip. 

“Yeah, you do. ‘Cause you’re nothing but a cock hungry little slut, aren’t you?” He groaned at the sight of you with your mouth full and said, “That’s it. Get up.” 

You listened, and he shoved you up on the edge of the table again before he stepped in between your legs. His hand grabbed you by the chin, holding your face in place as he aligned his cock to your core again. He slipped inside you with ease, making you gasp as he began fucking you again. 

“Look at you,” He spoke through gritted teeth, now fucking you with a rougher pace. “Fucking disgusting with spit and precum all over your mouth,” He whispered, leaning in just to mess with you – not once kissing you. He pushed your thighs further apart so he could fuck you deeper. 

“Bucky…” You gasped. 

“What, slut?” He fucked deeper into you, pounding into you relentlessly. “Your little cunt feels so good, you know that? So fucking tight,” He whispered against your mouth, before pulling away to spit into your open mouth, not once stopping his thrusts. “It’s a shame you were such a bitch back then, otherwise you could’ve had this cock a long time ago.” 

“Please…” You whined as he pounded into you aggressively. A tear slipped out of the corner of your eye. 

“Yeah? You’re sorry now?” 

You nodded. 

Bucky felt your walls clench violently around him. “Fuck,” He growled into your ear, “Are you gonna come for me? You're gonna come all over this cock? Huh?”  

“Yes,” You whimpered, “Yes, please.” You cried in pleasure and pain. “Please, Buck.” 

“Damn it!” He groaned. “Fuck you! Fuck you for being so good. For messing with my head.” He hissed, staring deep into your eyes, “And fuck you for not letting me enjoy this as much as I wanted to because I can’t bring myself to fucking hurt you!”  

Bucky slowed down just a little, making you cry out. 

“I dreamt of this, you know? All I’ve ever done is think about this moment right here. I always thought I’d scare you to a point where you take off running,” He scoffed, “Hell, I even fantasized about chasing after you in these damn woods!” He shook his head, still holding your stare. “Look at me now, look! Even now I couldn’t help but make it nice and good for you. To fuck you like I know you like it. I couldn’t help but be buried deep inside you yet again!” 

“I’m sorry,” You whined, “I really am.” 

Bucky wanted to punch himself. 

“Shut the fuck up and come for me!” 

A loud cry, then you came – mumbling and whining and crying. A complete mess on his desk. 

Bucky followed shortly after, coming undone while he was buried deep inside you, gripping your thigh so tightly that his fingers would surely leave a bruise behind. He caught you just as you fell forward into his chest, unable to hold yourself up as you caught your breath. 

Bucky calmed himself down, let out a sigh and glared at that damned, giant bulletin board covering the entire wall behind you as he wrapped his arms around your shaking body. God damn it. 

—

Reader’s POV: 

Your memory was a little hazy after that. You remembered bits and pieces. How he got you into the shower. His gentle touches, even as he washed himself. His hands and how they never left your body, holding you close and cleaning you up as best he could. 

Him whispered, “I’ve got you.” Over and over again. Like he was guilty. 

You remember you tried talking to him, as he dried you with a fluffy towel, “You hate me.” It came out like a statement. 

“Be quiet.” His icy voice snapped, and he refused to meet your eyes. The coldness of his tone and the soothing, gentle touch of his hands were giving you a whiplash. But you took it. Of course, you did. 

“Would you ever forgive me?” You asked him as he wrapped your favourite fluffy robe around you and brought you to bed. It was late, closer to sunrise than midnight. “Could you?” 

Bucky finally looked at you and said, “Just… be quiet.” His tone was much softer than earlier. “Here, drink this.” He handed you some water. You accepted it, sipping on it as you let him fuss over the bedding and blankets until he made a nice little nest for you to sink into. 

You thought he’d tuck you in and leave, probably to go back to that weird lair of his downstairs. But no, he got in after you. Quiet, and grumpy as he was, he still pulled in to cuddle like you two had the habit of doing for the past month or two. 

You hid your face into his chest, sighing and breathing in his scent, letting his body heat warm you up. You could hear the wind picking up outside, but that was none of your concern. 

A minute went by in silence, in darkness, except for the bedside lamp which illuminated the room with a soft golden glow. Another minute went by, Bucky breathed steadily. His hands moving up and down your back. Both of you were quiet. 

There was so much you wanted to say to him, but all that came out was, “I’m sorry, Bucky.” 

He sighed, then let out a mindless, “Hmm.” 

“I really am.” You whispered again, snuggling closer as if you wanted to get inside his skin. 

Another careless, “Hmm.” 

You sniffled, feeling like crying again. “Please forgive me.” 

“Stop crying.” He said, gently this time. 

“I’ll make up for it.” You found yourself saying. “I’ll do anything. I mean it.” 

Bucky sighed. “Oh yeah? How will you make up for it?” He said, with just a hint of pleasantry in his tone. 

“How many kids do you want?” 

Bucky chuckled. Genuinely chuckled, not like the mocking ones from earlier. But this was boyish, and very him. “You’re finishing your book tour soon.” He said. “Then you’ve got to start on your new project.” He sighed again, sounding a little tired and spent. “No kids for now, angel.” 

Silence again. This silence felt way less tense than before. Bucky’s movements were getting slower and slower as he relaxed more and more. 

Then out of nowhere you asked, “Have you… ever read any of my books?” 

A pause. Then he said, “All of them.” 

That took you by genuine surprise. “All of them?” 

“All of them.” 

You hesitated to ask, “Do you like them? 

Bucky let out a soft chuckle. “Do I like them?” He taunted. “Look at me. I became what you write about.” Then he reached for your face, tilting your head up so he could look at you. “Yes I do. I like them.” He said. “You’re very talented, baby. You deserved all the attention and recognition you get.” 

“Oh.” 

Silence again. You looked away from him, but he must’ve been able to see the gears turning in your head so he gently smacked your thigh and said, “Stop thinking.” He pulled the covers around you once again, making sure you were nice and warm. “Go to sleep.” He said. 

You snuggled deeper into his side, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. A few minutes went by, and Bucky fell asleep before you did. He began snoring softly just moments after. 

You stayed awake though. Thinking, caressing his bare chest. After all, how could one sleep after finally getting to where they plotted to be for the last ten years? You hid a smirk as you kissed Bucky’s warm, tattooed chest. You whispered, quietly, “Took me a decade to get to you, Buck. But it was all worth it.” You snuggled deeper into his side. Smiling at his adorable snores. 

Bucky was indeed a mastermind. Stalking you, following your each and every move. Keeping track of where you were and where you went at all times, who you met and what you did. It couldn’t have been easy. 

He thought he alone plotted this whole thing. He thought that he was the only one manipulating circumstances in ways to get what he wanted. Into getting you to let your guard down and let him in. Thinking you didn’t recognise him that night you met at the bar. 

Thinking you forgot. 

You let out a little chuckle, “Oh Buck. You did so well. But you don’t know half the work I put into all this.” You sighed, kissing his bare chest again, “Do you even know how much work goes into

manipulating someone into thinking they’re successfully manipulating you?” 

Bucky was a mastermind. Each one of his moves were perfectly calculated. He was so smart. He’d always been, ever since uni. 

But Bucky wasn’t the only mastermind. Because you plotted too. 

Always holding or attending book signings, readings, or other events in cities he was in. Always being around, but right outside of his circle – enough so that in these past ten years, he never stopped hearing about you from friends or colleagues, or friends of friends. Always making sure your advertisements were on billboards that were near his houses, offices, hang out spots, etc. 

All that was by your design. You made sure you’d never leave his head. 

You do admit, being mean to him in uni was stupid and unforgivable. But what else were you supposed to do? How else were you going to live rent free in his head? He never made a move on you in uni because he was also so intimidated. Always so shy, and quiet. 

So you did what you had to do. Sure, it took years. And the whole time, you let him think he was the only one orchestrating this. You let him think his manipulation techniques were working. You let him think he was punishing you when really, you’d been dreaming of these punishments ever since you saw him that first day on campus. 

Earlier, in the study, when you saw that bullet board and froze – it wasn’t out of fear. It was out of surprise. You knew Bucky always kept a close eye on you and everything you did these past years. You even let him. You let his guys follow you around, you let them overhear details you wanted Bucky to know. You let Bucky watch you, purposely lingering around cameras whenever you were out. 

But you didn’t know his obsession mirrored yours. Because if he would’ve searched your penthouse a little more thoroughly, he would’ve found a similar bulletin board that you’d been keeping for years now – tracking him and all that he did. 

You placed another kiss on Bucky’s chest and sighed in bliss. “You’re not the only mastermind, baby. But it’s not a competition now, is it? We both got what we wanted. Didn’t we?” You asked, looking up to see his peaceful, sleeping face. “Huh, baby? It’s alright. You’re a tiny bit sloppy with your stalking skills, but never mind. I’m here now. And I’m not leaving.” 

---

a/n: it's been a while huh-

[blackcatner00]

Eyes made of Starlight

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Maid!Reader (Cinderella Au)

Summary: You are drawn into a royal masquerade by a mysterious woman with a magical mask.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Classism (social hierarchy themes); self-worth struggles; fantasy themes (fairy godmother, spells, illusions); power dynamics; magical disguise

Author’s Note: Oh how I loved writing the magical Cinderella vibe!! This amazing request also comes from my lovely darling!! I hope you'll enjoy this as well, beloved ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

The palace walls groan with music. Light spills through stained glass. You can hear the laughter of women who never had to scrub anything in their lives.

You have no reason to be here.

You have no right to be here.

The gown does not belong to you.

The mask does not belong to you.

This moment does definitely not belong to you.

You shouldn’t be here. Not walking under crystal chandeliers, not between silk-slick gowns and heels carved from heaven. Not with perfume-laced air choking your lungs or golden music playing with your ribs. Your hands are calloused. Your eyes are too wide. You walk as if waiting to be punished.

Because you will be.

You are nothing but a maid in this place. One of many. A slip of a girl with sore fingers and silent steps, always in the background, always apologizing.

You had ash on your hands just this sunrise. Streaked across your apron. Tangled in your lashes.

You had scrubbed the same hallway twice - once out of duty, once out of nerves.

You are not meant to be here among those royals, and yet you are.

The mask that sits on your face is not just a disguise. It’s an enchantment. Deep green velvet shaped like leaves, spun with gold threads that glow when the light hits just right. You remember the exhilaration you felt when you held it in your hands after it was placed on your bed. Remember the woman who you believe put it there.

No one speaks to her. No one trusts her. They call her strange, witchy, always lingering too long in the shadows of the garden wall, half-swallowed by ivy and moonlight. She has been a part of the place longer than anyone seems to remember, sweeping corners no one else would touch, talking to birds like they can answer her.

Everyone avoids her.

They say she curses the cooks and sings to the moon and never ages a day past forty.

But you have spoken to her. Brought her bread once, tucked it into a cloth napkin with a wildflower and an apology. Timidly waved at her when you saw her standing cloaked in midnight-colored shawls that fluttered like wings.

And one night ago it was just there. The mask. Lying under your sheets, ready to be worn. You don’t know why you actually decided to do it. You never would have. It’s not a decision you would even consider. But somehow, you pulled on that mask and were suddenly dressed in a gown more worthy than your life.

You are trembling now, standing at the edge of the ballroom. The candlelight plays games with your shadow. You can feel your heartbeat tap-tap-tapping against your ribs.

The clock chimes nine.

The doors open wider and the crowd shifts.

You saw him once.

The prince.

You were delivering lines for another maid who either quit or vanished or both. And on your new route, you saw him at the end of the corridor, coming closer with each step. He had been dressed in navy and silver, his hair pulled back and his expression unreadable.

You tripped and dropped the stack of sheets in your panic, not expecting to just encounter the real prince on a simple delivery. Not as a simple maid. You hated yourself for being in his way.

And when the sheets met the floor, you didn’t breathe.

Just watched the crown prince himself bent - bent - to help pick them up.

Just watched him smile at you and ask if you were alright.

As if he wasn’t a prince and you weren’t made of floor polish and forgotten names.

You didn’t stop thinking about it since. Didn’t stop thinking about him since.

You don’t even recall if you even answered him or kept staring all while blushing so hard your skin stung.

All you are able to recall is that he had eyes like storms and a mouth made for poetry, and something about him - something in the way he looked at you, not through you - unraveled your spine.

That was weeks ago.

And now he is here.

And you are too.

He enters without fanfare, without guards, without his title dragging at his heel. He wears deep blue tonight, with black embroidery shaped like curling vines across his shoulders. His dark hair is loose, falling just below his ears.

He is beautiful. But in a way fire is beautiful. Dangerous and too bright to look at for long.

He stands there like a painting brought to life.

He scans the room and stops suddenly.

On you.

Eyes lock.

Breath caught.

Your heart drops out of your chest and slams into the floor.

He is staring. Not at the dress. Not at the mask. Not at your lips or your waist or your trembling fingers.

He’s staring at your eyes.

As if he is trying to place them in the sky.

And then he is moving. Descending the stairs slowly as if the floor belongs to him and he is offering it to you.

The crowd parts for him.

People turn to watch. Whispers start.

You want to run.

You want to melt.

You want to rewind the world and be a maid again and never take that mask from that strange woman and never come here.

You clutch the sides of your gown, panic boiling in your chest. You could run. You have to run. He can’t know.

But he’s already there and you are not moving.

“Don’t go,” he speaks and his voice is velvet.

He is standing in front of you now, impossibly close, all shadows and silver eyes staring straight into yours.

Deliberately, and without taking his eyes off of yours, he offers his hand.

“Dance with me,” he says. “Please.” His voice is deep. Genuine. A request.

A prince should not talk to a maid this way. You are sure he wouldn’t if he knew who you were.

But a maid also cannot say no to a prince.

So you take his hand with shaking fingers and the second you touch him, you are pulled into his arms, into his chest. The music swells around you as if it were meant for this.

You dance like the world has forgotten gravity.

His touch is light and guiding. One hand presses against your back, the other is intertwined with yours. He doesn’t say anything about the tiny nicks in your palm you got while hanging linens out to dry and forgetting the rose bushes behind.

Never in your life have you danced before.

Never in your life have you felt the proximity of a dance partner or the sequence of the steps to the music.

Your mind doesn’t know but somehow your body does. Your body moves as though it’s been waiting its whole life to be near him. To dance this dance with him.

Perhaps that too has something to do with the mask.

Music rises. Time bleeds away. It feels like flying. It feels like burning.

He looks at you. Doesn’t stop looking at you. And you wonder if he sees past the magic. If he sees the girl who cleans his windows and folds his sheets. The girl who dropped them in front of him and stammered out an apology so awkward she wanted to dissolve on the spot.

Your breath is suspended like the stars outside the palace windows. His hand rests against your back, the pressure just enough to keep you guided, not enough to push. The thumb of his other hand moves in slow circles over your skin and you find yourself staring at it.

His head tilts down to you.

“You keep looking away,” he observes slowly, calmly.

You look up and his gaze is already waiting for yours. “Excuse me?”

“Your eyes,” he adds, voice gentle. Quiet. “You keep hiding them.”

He leans in even closer. You hold your breath. Your steps falter.

“The most important part of dancing,” he states quietly. “is eye contact.” His eyes don’t leave yours. “Everything else follows if you don’t look away.”

You feel the breath of his words against your skin and it makes you hot.

He is not teasing. Not amused. Not quite serious either, but sincere. Thoughtful. As if this moment means something to him too. As if it’s not just your heart fighting its way out of your chest.

You swallow. “Why is that?”

He pulls you closer, shifting his grip. His voice drops even softer. “If you don’t look at your partner, you cannot read them. You cannot anticipate the next step. Cannot be ready to catch them if they fall.” Something passes through his expression.

A beat. His gaze dips to your mouth. Your chin. Back to your eyes.

“And people fall.”

The words land inside of you immediately and you feel them spark a fire that heats up your neck.

You blink a few times, snapping your gaze away from him only to have his hand leave your back to turn your head in its right position - looking at him. His thumb brushes your jawline before he pulls away and settles right at your back again.

As if nothing happened.

You force yourself to nod. Careful. Like if you move too fast the spell will shatter and you will wake up barefoot in the laundry quarters with soot on your face.

He watches you some more. The way your eyes move over his face. The way your brow is twitching. The way your breath is uneven.

You almost stumble. He steadies you effortlessly as if he’d known it would happen.

“Try again,” he encourages gently. “Just look at me.”

You meet his eyes again. Fully. The ballroom fades. The velvet and glass and gossip melt. The crowd around you spins in their own perfect orbit but this is something slower. Something more important.

He leans in another time, breath ghosting your cheek. His voice is a whisper.

“Do you think I could ever forget your eyes, hm?”

Your heart drops alongside your stomach.

The clock chimes midnight.

One.

Two.

Three.

You stumble back. Out of his hold. Out of his arms. Out of his orbit.

The mask is growing warm. Too warm. Your vision flickers. Your dress begins to dull, like color draining from a dream.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice breaking, rushed. “I have to-”

And you turn.

“Wait-” he almost shouts, desperate, confused. “Please tell me your name-”

But you are gone.

Glass slippers skim the marble. Tears burn behind your eyes and make it hard to see. The mask slips from your face as you disappear into the night, heart hammering loud enough to break open the stars.

[blackcatner00]

Eyes made of Starlight

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Maid!Reader (Cinderella Au)

Summary: You are drawn into a royal masquerade by a mysterious woman with a magical mask.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Classism (social hierarchy themes); self-worth struggles; fantasy themes (fairy godmother, spells, illusions); power dynamics; magical disguise

Author’s Note: Oh how I loved writing the magical Cinderella vibe!! This amazing request also comes from my lovely darling!! I hope you'll enjoy this as well, beloved ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

The palace walls groan with music. Light spills through stained glass. You can hear the laughter of women who never had to scrub anything in their lives.

You have no reason to be here.

You have no right to be here.

The gown does not belong to you.

The mask does not belong to you.

This moment does definitely not belong to you.

You shouldn’t be here. Not walking under crystal chandeliers, not between silk-slick gowns and heels carved from heaven. Not with perfume-laced air choking your lungs or golden music playing with your ribs. Your hands are calloused. Your eyes are too wide. You walk as if waiting to be punished.

Because you will be.

You are nothing but a maid in this place. One of many. A slip of a girl with sore fingers and silent steps, always in the background, always apologizing.

You had ash on your hands just this sunrise. Streaked across your apron. Tangled in your lashes.

You had scrubbed the same hallway twice - once out of duty, once out of nerves.

You are not meant to be here among those royals, and yet you are.

The mask that sits on your face is not just a disguise. It’s an enchantment. Deep green velvet shaped like leaves, spun with gold threads that glow when the light hits just right. You remember the exhilaration you felt when you held it in your hands after it was placed on your bed. Remember the woman who you believe put it there.

No one speaks to her. No one trusts her. They call her strange, witchy, always lingering too long in the shadows of the garden wall, half-swallowed by ivy and moonlight. She has been a part of the place longer than anyone seems to remember, sweeping corners no one else would touch, talking to birds like they can answer her.

Everyone avoids her.

They say she curses the cooks and sings to the moon and never ages a day past forty.

But you have spoken to her. Brought her bread once, tucked it into a cloth napkin with a wildflower and an apology. Timidly waved at her when you saw her standing cloaked in midnight-colored shawls that fluttered like wings.

And one night ago it was just there. The mask. Lying under your sheets, ready to be worn. You don’t know why you actually decided to do it. You never would have. It’s not a decision you would even consider. But somehow, you pulled on that mask and were suddenly dressed in a gown more worthy than your life.

You are trembling now, standing at the edge of the ballroom. The candlelight plays games with your shadow. You can feel your heartbeat tap-tap-tapping against your ribs.

The clock chimes nine.

The doors open wider and the crowd shifts.

You saw him once.

The prince.

You were delivering lines for another maid who either quit or vanished or both. And on your new route, you saw him at the end of the corridor, coming closer with each step. He had been dressed in navy and silver, his hair pulled back and his expression unreadable.

You tripped and dropped the stack of sheets in your panic, not expecting to just encounter the real prince on a simple delivery. Not as a simple maid. You hated yourself for being in his way.

And when the sheets met the floor, you didn’t breathe.

Just watched the crown prince himself bent - bent - to help pick them up.

Just watched him smile at you and ask if you were alright.

As if he wasn’t a prince and you weren’t made of floor polish and forgotten names.

You didn’t stop thinking about it since. Didn’t stop thinking about him since.

You don’t even recall if you even answered him or kept staring all while blushing so hard your skin stung.

All you are able to recall is that he had eyes like storms and a mouth made for poetry, and something about him - something in the way he looked at you, not through you - unraveled your spine.

That was weeks ago.

And now he is here.

And you are too.

He enters without fanfare, without guards, without his title dragging at his heel. He wears deep blue tonight, with black embroidery shaped like curling vines across his shoulders. His dark hair is loose, falling just below his ears.

He is beautiful. But in a way fire is beautiful. Dangerous and too bright to look at for long.

He stands there like a painting brought to life.

He scans the room and stops suddenly.

On you.

Eyes lock.

Breath caught.

Your heart drops out of your chest and slams into the floor.

He is staring. Not at the dress. Not at the mask. Not at your lips or your waist or your trembling fingers.

He’s staring at your eyes.

As if he is trying to place them in the sky.

And then he is moving. Descending the stairs slowly as if the floor belongs to him and he is offering it to you.

The crowd parts for him.

People turn to watch. Whispers start.

You want to run.

You want to melt.

You want to rewind the world and be a maid again and never take that mask from that strange woman and never come here.

You clutch the sides of your gown, panic boiling in your chest. You could run. You have to run. He can’t know.

But he’s already there and you are not moving.

“Don’t go,” he speaks and his voice is velvet.

He is standing in front of you now, impossibly close, all shadows and silver eyes staring straight into yours.

Deliberately, and without taking his eyes off of yours, he offers his hand.

“Dance with me,” he says. “Please.” His voice is deep. Genuine. A request.

A prince should not talk to a maid this way. You are sure he wouldn’t if he knew who you were.

But a maid also cannot say no to a prince.

So you take his hand with shaking fingers and the second you touch him, you are pulled into his arms, into his chest. The music swells around you as if it were meant for this.

You dance like the world has forgotten gravity.

His touch is light and guiding. One hand presses against your back, the other is intertwined with yours. He doesn’t say anything about the tiny nicks in your palm you got while hanging linens out to dry and forgetting the rose bushes behind.

Never in your life have you danced before.

Never in your life have you felt the proximity of a dance partner or the sequence of the steps to the music.

Your mind doesn’t know but somehow your body does. Your body moves as though it’s been waiting its whole life to be near him. To dance this dance with him.

Perhaps that too has something to do with the mask.

Music rises. Time bleeds away. It feels like flying. It feels like burning.

He looks at you. Doesn’t stop looking at you. And you wonder if he sees past the magic. If he sees the girl who cleans his windows and folds his sheets. The girl who dropped them in front of him and stammered out an apology so awkward she wanted to dissolve on the spot.

Your breath is suspended like the stars outside the palace windows. His hand rests against your back, the pressure just enough to keep you guided, not enough to push. The thumb of his other hand moves in slow circles over your skin and you find yourself staring at it.

His head tilts down to you.

“You keep looking away,” he observes slowly, calmly.

You look up and his gaze is already waiting for yours. “Excuse me?”

“Your eyes,” he adds, voice gentle. Quiet. “You keep hiding them.”

He leans in even closer. You hold your breath. Your steps falter.

“The most important part of dancing,” he states quietly. “is eye contact.” His eyes don’t leave yours. “Everything else follows if you don’t look away.”

You feel the breath of his words against your skin and it makes you hot.

He is not teasing. Not amused. Not quite serious either, but sincere. Thoughtful. As if this moment means something to him too. As if it’s not just your heart fighting its way out of your chest.

You swallow. “Why is that?”

He pulls you closer, shifting his grip. His voice drops even softer. “If you don’t look at your partner, you cannot read them. You cannot anticipate the next step. Cannot be ready to catch them if they fall.” Something passes through his expression.

A beat. His gaze dips to your mouth. Your chin. Back to your eyes.

“And people fall.”

The words land inside of you immediately and you feel them spark a fire that heats up your neck.

You blink a few times, snapping your gaze away from him only to have his hand leave your back to turn your head in its right position - looking at him. His thumb brushes your jawline before he pulls away and settles right at your back again.

As if nothing happened.

You force yourself to nod. Careful. Like if you move too fast the spell will shatter and you will wake up barefoot in the laundry quarters with soot on your face.

He watches you some more. The way your eyes move over his face. The way your brow is twitching. The way your breath is uneven.

You almost stumble. He steadies you effortlessly as if he’d known it would happen.

“Try again,” he encourages gently. “Just look at me.”

You meet his eyes again. Fully. The ballroom fades. The velvet and glass and gossip melt. The crowd around you spins in their own perfect orbit but this is something slower. Something more important.

He leans in another time, breath ghosting your cheek. His voice is a whisper.

“Do you think I could ever forget your eyes, hm?”

Your heart drops alongside your stomach.

The clock chimes midnight.

One.

Two.

Three.

You stumble back. Out of his hold. Out of his arms. Out of his orbit.

The mask is growing warm. Too warm. Your vision flickers. Your dress begins to dull, like color draining from a dream.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice breaking, rushed. “I have to-”

And you turn.

“Wait-” he almost shouts, desperate, confused. “Please tell me your name-”

But you are gone.

Glass slippers skim the marble. Tears burn behind your eyes and make it hard to see. The mask slips from your face as you disappear into the night, heart hammering loud enough to break open the stars.

[blackcatner00]

Lucky | Bucky Barnes

COMPLETE

She’s America’s sweetheart. He’s a weapon trying to forget who he used to be.

After years in the spotlight, she is the picture of perfection, flawless smile, designer gowns, a legacy of roles that made the world fall in love with her. But behind the flash of cameras and carefully curated charm, she’s unraveling.

When her team hires Bucky Barnes as private security, he doesn’t understand why a movie star needs someone like him. But the longer he watches, the more he sees, the cracks beneath the glam, the loneliness, the cage disguised as fame.

What begins as silence becomes trust. What begins as protection becomes something deeper. But in a world built on performance, can anything real survive the final curtain.

⭐️ The Opening Scene 🎬

⭐️ The Finale Cut 🎬

[blackcatner00]

Reckless • P5

18+

A conversation with your kids ends sourly. Luckily, Steve is there to remind you of the sweeter things in life.

Content Warning: Widower!Steve x Divorced!Reader, Ex Husband!Bucky, Dead!Peggy, mature themes, angst, argument, yelling, hurt/comfort, smut (live sex show, public sex, fingering, penetrative sex, soft dirty talk, soft dom!steve), forbidden romance, more angst, mentions cheating, wholesome fluff.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You're trying not to make it obvious that you need a lot of wine to get through this dinner, but when Blake nudges your arm after you pour your fourth large glass, you know you haven't been trying hard enough.

"Calm down," She hisses under her breath, frowning at you. "You know what you're like when you're drunk."

A little sore from her harsh words, you bite your cheek, staring down at your food. You feel Steve comfortingly stroke your arm with his thumb under the table, alleviating at least some of your discomfort.

Thankfully, the others are too busy laughing at Grant's anecdote to notice the tension on your side of the table. You try not to stare at Kaya for too long at a time, but you can't help it. Her beauty is the kind that makes you want to look at her forever, like a painting in which you can discover intricate details the longer you stare at it.

Kaya's nice. You hate to admit it, but she's a wonderful human being. Never once has she been malicious towards you, or expressed any sort of jealousy for your odd friendship with Bucky. She hasn't tried to replace you; hasn't asked the kids to call her Mom. Has never once disrespected your authority or overstepped any boundaries.

She's absolutely perfect.

Her and Bucky met on a dating app four years ago. He told you straight away, as he did with all the women he dated after the divorce. You didn't expect it to last as long as it did, let alone result in him getting married again, but you're genuinely happy for them both.

That's what makes it so difficult to be around her. She's so lovely and kind that you have to try extra hard not to seem like the villain. If you complain about anything, you'd look crazy because Kaya is amazing.

"I'm really glad we could all do this together," Bucky says with a warm smile. "Like a proper family."

You really do love seeing him happy. It's been a long time since a relationship has lit him up this way - you don't think you've seen him this happy in love since you were sixteen.

"Blake, are we still on for tomorrow evening?" Kaya asks once Steve, Bucky and Grant fall into their own conversation.

Frowning, you turn to your daughter. "What's tomorrow evening?"

"Oh, it's the second round of Battle Of The Bands," Blake tells you nonchalantly. "Kaya's been coming to watch us play."

You can't help but feel offended. "Really? You didn't tell me you had entered." Blake and Grant have been in a rock band since high school with a couple of their other friends, and whenever they've entered competitions or performed gigs, they've always informed you. Until now.

An awkward silence sits between the three of you. Blake rolls her eyes and sighs. "It's not a big deal. Kaya's really into music; she'd enjoy it more."

"Besides, you're always busy at work," Grant suddenly interjects.

You feel attacked by both sides, and it throws you into defense mode. "I could have taken a day off, if I knew about it," You state with a frown.

"But Kaya can take any day off because her job isn't that intense," Blake says, while Kaya looks like she wishes the floor would swallow her up. "For you, it's a huge problem and causes issues at work."

"That isn't true!" You say, scoffing.

"Mom, it's fine," Grant claims. "You put work first, and that's fine."

Your lips part, but you're speechless. You put work first? Above your kids? "Do you really feel that way?" You ask them, feeling completely sober all of a sudden.

"You make us feel that way!" Blake suddenly yells, making you recoil. "You're just jealous that Kaya is doing the mom things that you should have done for us."

The entire table is silenced, everyone's eyes on you. With a shaky breath, you stand up and rush to the bar, trying to calm yourself down. All your life, you've pushed yourself in your career in order to be able to give the twins the life they deserve. You took barely anything from Bucky in the divorce, adamant to be independent, but now they're throwing that right back in your face.

Sitting at the bar with your head in your hands, you feel someone sit next to you. "Rough night?"

Rolling your eyes, you look over at him. "Not now, Bucky."

He just gives you a smile before waving down the bartender. "Two shots of tequila, my friend!"

"Absolutely not," You say with a grimace.

"Come on, why not?" Bucky asks you.

"Because," You begin, sitting up. "Last time you and I took tequila shots, I woke up the next morning with two babies inside me."

He narrows his eyes. "Not sure that's how it works, but you're the mother, so I'll go along with it."

The bartender slides the shots over, making you grimace. "Please, Bucky, just let me wallow in peace."

For a few moments, he complies, saying nothing. After staring at the shot, you roll your eyes before grabbing it and drinking it in one go, making him cheer before doing the same.

"I'm not jealous of Kaya," You mutter once the burning in your throat alleviates, hoping he believes you.

"That was a low blow. They were upset, and said what they knew would cut the deepest," Bucky replies softly. "I guess they learnt from a young age how to really hit someone where it hurts. We were always so good at it."

You wince at the reminder of the times the kids would witness the toxicity of your marriage. They were only 11 years old when you got divorced, and daddy and mommy hating each other had been the norm for most of their life.

"They love you, you know," Bucky says, leaning closer. "They just miss spending time with you."

You glare down at the bar. "What am I supposed to do? They're away at college. I do my best to visit them. How can I be a better mom?"

"This is not about your competence as a mother," Bucky says sternly, placing his hand on yours. "You have been nothing short of incredible when it comes to raising our kids. Every time I look at them, I am so proud of what we did. And there is no way they'd have turned out so great if it wasn't for you."

You let out a sigh, nodding, knowing he's right.

"Fuck, why am I tearing up?" He mumbles to himself as his eyes gloss over. "I just- fuck, I'm just so grateful to you, sweetheart. Our babies are all grown up and they're doing so well in school. Oh, fuck."

Turning to him, you see the tears streaming down his face, the sight making your own tears build up. "Don't you fucking cry on me, Buck, I swear to God."

"I'm so sorry for ever hurting you," He sobs, leaning his forehead against your shoulder as his warm tears run down your arm. "Through everything, you're still my best friend. And you always will be, no matter what."

"I'm sorry, too," You say, your breaths quick and shallow.

"I love you, sweetheart," Bucky utters, wrapping his arms around you.

"I love you, too," You reply, rubbing his back.

"Everything okay here?" You hear Steve ask from behind you.

You pull apart from Bucky, turning to look at the blonde with a pressed smile. "Yeah, we're fine."

"Tequila, brother," Bucky says, palming his eyes before sighing. "Ah, fuck."

"I, uh, I think it's home time," Steve says, patting Bucky's shoulder who laughs up at him.

"Yeah, I think you're right," He says, standing. He gives you a quick hug, does the same to Steve and walks back over to the table. Kaya gives you a wave which you return, but Blake and Grant just storm out the restaurant, breaking your heart.

Steve takes you to his car, the both of you letting out a long sigh once you're settled in.

"That was... a lot," You breathe out, pulling down the sun shield to look at yourself in the mirror. Your mascara has smudged, your lipstick has disappeared and your eyes are puffy.

"Yup," Steve says, driving out of the car park. "What were you and Bucky talking about?"

A small smile plays at your lips as you look over at him. "You jealous that he can still make me cry?"

"Something like that," Steve mumbles, biting back his own smile.

You lean your head back and let out a sigh. "The kids. He always gets emotional when he talks about them."

He hums, placing his free hand on your thigh. "You know they love you. Kids are bound to forget how great their parents are sometimes, but you need to remember just how incredible you are as a mother."

A smile blooms on your lips. "I am pretty incredible."

Your words make him grin and when he gets to a red light, he looks over at you. "Do you trust me?"

You narrow your eyes, slightly offended that he even has to ask. "Steven, you could tell me your shit smells like roses and I'd believe you."

He chuckles before taking an odd turn into a quiet country road. "You're not scared of the dark, are you?"

"Not when you're here to protect me," You mumble, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. "What's with all the questions, Rogers?"

He doesn't say a word and continues driving down the vacant road until you reach a small clearing. After parking the car on the grass, Steve turns off the engine, making you snort.

"Seriously?" You ask him with a raised brow as you look around the forested area. "You brought me to a quiet spot in the woods so we could make out like teenagers?"

"Make out? Oh no, you've got me all wrong," He says, leaning over to you and lowering his voice. "I brought you here so I can kill you."

A small smile pulls at your lips. "Fuck, really? Damn it."

"Mhm," He hums, stroking your cheek as his eyes burn into yours. "But, I'll tell you what- if you let me cum inside you, I'll let you live."

His proposition makes you snort before you straighten your face. "Uh, sure. Seems fair."

"Yeah?" Steve asks, leaning closer. "Gonna let me fill you up?"

Your cunt throbs at his words, your thighs squeezing together. He notices straight away and looks down before slipping his hand between your legs and tutting.

"Oh no, baby, don't try and hide from me," He coos, kissing your cheek. "Let me take what's mine."

"Fuck," You whisper as you feel yourself get wetter by the second.

Without a warning, Steve lifts you up and sits you down onto his lap, attaching his lips to yours before you get the chance to react. He immediately groans into your mouth, using his grip on your hips to push you down against his boner.

"Shit," He utters, throwing his head back. "So fucking hard for you, baby."

"Just for me?" You ask him teasingly, resting your hands on his shoulders.

"Only you," Steve promises desperately, looking into your eyes with a clear certainty. "I'm all yours, sweetheart."

You fiddle with his belt while he pulls up your dress, and when pull out his erect cock it immediately slaps against your panties, making you gasp. Steve kisses you deeply, moving your panties to the side with one hand and guiding his cock to your slick cunt with the other. After rubbing his shaft in your juices for a few moments while you squirm, he slowly pushes it into you as you hold your breath. The sensation of him stretching you out is one you know you'll never get used to, and it takes you a few moments to grow comfortable with his invasion.

He lets out a low groan, his Adam's apple bobbing as he watches your face contort. Bringing his lips to your ear, he whispers, "You gonna be a good girl and ride me, baby?"

You can't help but want to please him, and with your grip on his biceps, you slowly begin to bounce on his cock. Steve kneads your ass with his right hand and gently holds your throat in his left, letting out weak groans as your pussy envelops his length.

"So fucking good, keep going," He mutters, slapping your ass. "Just like that. You're doing so well for me, pretty girl."

Letting out moans and cries, you ride him faster, your body twitching when he starts playing with your hard nipples through your dress. He pulls the neckline down, allowing your boobs to fall out, before grabbing them both and pressing his face to your chest. Soft grunts leave his mouth as he flicks his tongue over your nipples, sucking and slobbering all over them.

"Oh, Steve!" You cry out loudly, your eyes rolling back. "Steven, please, I'm gonna cum."

The windows steam up and the car is filled with the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as his cock pounds in and out of your pussy. He takes holds of your hips and assists you, thrusting up into you harder as you feel the knot tighten in your core.

"Steve," You whine, pulling on his hair. "C-cumming." The knot is undone and you cum all over him, a harsh jolt of pleasure and relief hitting every inch of your skin.

He groans loudly, growling as your cunt milks him of his cum. Shooting his load into you, Steve lets out a repetitive chant of your name, thrusting into you a few more times as his eyes roll back.

You let out weak whimpers, your head falling forward to rest in his neck. He strokes your hair while the two of you recover, breathing heavily. Steve cracks open one of the windows, allowing some fresh air to fill the heated vehicle.

"Baby," He whispers, wrapping his arms around you. "Baby."

Lifting up your head, you look up at him. "Yes, Steve?"

A look of conflict grows on his face, as though he's trying to decide on whether to say something or not. His eyes scan your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks, and when he lets out a soft sigh it's almost like he has given up with whatever he was contemplating. "Kiss me," He mumbles, to which you immediately comply.

The moment of bliss swallows you hole, but a small part of you can't help but wonder whether he had something more to say.

"So, it's Steve."

You look up at your office door to see Shuri standing there with a raised brow. Gesturing for her to come in, you wait until the door is closed behind her before you reply. "It's Steve."

"I can't believe this!" She exclaims, a shocked grin on her face. "I mean, I've always thought you would look good together, but I didn't think you'd actually go through with it!"

Leaning back in your chair, you shrug with a soft smile. "I didn't, either."

She walks further in and sits on the chair opposite you, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "Does Bucky know?"

"God, no," You answer, shuddering at the thought of him finding out.

"What about the kids?" She presses with a frown. "Have you thought about how they might feel about it?"

"Of course I have. I never stop thinking about them; they're my kids," You say, slightly offended that she even asked. "The thing is, I didn't expect it to go this far. I thought we'd sleep together and that would be it. We'd get it out of our systems and move on. But... fuck, I don't wanna move on."

Shuri presses her lips together, and you can tell that she's loving the drama. "So you like him? Are you like, together?"

Her question makes you stop and think for a second. "Uh... I don't know," You admit. "We haven't really had a conversation; we're kinda just going with the flow."

"He isn't sleeping with anyone else, then?" She asks with a frown. "Because that chlamydia scare last year has scarred me for life-"

"Steve is not that kind of guy," You insist, but there's a small glint of fear you can't deny. "And I thought you swore to never bring up Chlamydia 2020 again."

She holds her hands up in surrender, her eyes wide. "Sorry, sorry. But are you saying that it isn't just sex?"

"Of course not," You answer her. "It... we have feelings for each other."

"You don't sound so sure-"

"We have feelings for each other," You state firmly. "We do."

"Okay," Shuri says carefully. "Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?"

You stare her down, contemplating her words. There's no way Steve doesn't have feelings for you. He said you were more than a soulmate. He looks at you like he hasn't seen a single thing more beautiful. He's risking his lifelong friendship with Bucky to be with you.

"I don't need convincing," You tell her calmly. "In fact, I'm pretty sure he's in love with me."

A full week passes before you see Steve again.

Between the renovations at his gym and the new budget schedule you've been working hard on, neither of you have had a single minute to spare. On Sunday evening, though, he is finally able to come over to see you.

"Missed you so much," He mumbles against your lips as your legs tangle with his. There's a shitty soap opera on the television but your focus is purely on him.

"Missed you more," You reply before giving him a sweet kiss. "Can't believe you stayed away for so long."

"It was horrible. Terrible," Steve groans, rubbing your arm. "I thought of you every single minute, you know that?"

"Every single minute?" You repeat with a teasing pout.

"Every single one," He whispers back to you. "You make me fucking crazy. I don't think I've ever felt like this before."

His words make you snuggle closer to him. "Do you really mean that, Steve? Or are you just saying that?"

He frowns, taken aback. "What are you talking about, baby? Of course I mean it."

"No, but..." You trail off, feeling stupid. "Do you like me?"

Steve raises a brow, moving his head back as he stares down at you. "Honey, are you high?"

Snorting, you hit his shoulder. "Steven, I'm being serious. Is this just sex to you?"

"Just sex?" He sputters, utterly baffled. "What put that thought into your head, baby?"

You shrug meekly. "I don't know, I just-"

"Look at me," Steve cuts you off curtly, grabbing your cheeks and forcing you to stare up at him. His bright blue eyes burn into yours, his gaze both soft and firm. "I care about you more than anything. You're the first thing I think of when I wake up, the last before I sleep, and the only thing I think of in between. It's like I was half-alive before you became mine- like I hadn't experienced what it was to truly live yet. Baby, I love you."

His admission makes your heart flutter. "Steve," You whimper, feeling your soul burst with joy. "I love you."

It feels like you've both broken free from shackles that you didn't even know you were bound to. He meets your lips with his, tugging on your hair as he kisses you deeply.

"Mmm, fuck," He groans into your mouth, his hand roaming up and down your body. "Need you so badly, baby."

"I'm yours, Steven," You swear to him. "Forever."

He lays you down on the couch and spreads your legs apart before nestling himself between them. Just as you feel your heart begin to pour with raw excitement and need, you hear someone knocking on the front door.

Your eyes shoot open and it takes all your strength to push Steve off of you, who looks dumbfounded as his eyebrows furrow.

"If that's Buck, I'm gonna fucking kill him," He growls while you stand up and smooth down your hair.

Rushing out into the hallway, you open the door and are surprised to see Grant. He looks utterly distraught as he sobs into his hands, the sight making you want to die.

"He was cheating on me," His muffled voice comes through the gaps in his fingers. "The whole time, he was cheating on me."

"Oh, my baby," You whisper, pulling him inside and enveloping him in a hug. "I'm so sorry, my angel."

Grant lets out a weak whimper before removing himself out of your grip and walking further into the house. "Can you believe it? Franco. My Franco. He was so sweet, and nice... and the whole thing was a lie."

He strides into your kitchen, where Steve is already standing at the island with a look of concern on his face.

"Do you know what it's like to be cheated on?" Grant asks him hysterically, before huffing. "Of course you don't. Look at you."

At a loss for words, Steve stays silent, giving you a shrug.

"This has nothing to do with your looks, angel," You promise him, walking closer to him and rubbing his back. "Him cheating is not a reflection of who you are as a person; remember that."

Grant sniffles, resting his hands on the island. After a few moments, he looks up at Steve, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Wait. What are you doing here so late?" He asks him, before looking at you. Grant's face drops as cold realization hits him and he takes a few steps backwards. "What the fuck? Does Dad know?"

Shit.

You take in a shaky breath, doing your best to remain calm. "No. Your father doesn't know."

A look of disgust and confusion grows on his face. "What the fuck, dude?" He yells at Steve. "I'm named after you and you're fucking my mom?"

"Hey," Steve says sternly, frowning. "Do not speak about your mother like that."

"Screw you!" He retorts bitterly. "You're not my dad."

"Grant, calm down," You order him lowly, your heart beating erratically.

"If Dad knew about this, he'd punch you right in your face," Grant says angrily, and in a second his fist is raised as he prepares to sock Steve right in the jaw.

You grab his arm before he can make contact, appalled. "Grant Buchanan Barnes, you watch yourself," You boom sternly.

With a sigh, Steve meets your eyes. "I should go."

Nodding, you know he's right. "I think that's a good idea."

"Okay wait," Grant interjects, rubbing his forehead. "I'm sorry for overreacting, I just... my life is crazy right now, and this is just weird."

"It isn't that weird," You mumble defensively.

"He's Uncle Steve, it's weird!" He retorts with wide eyes.

"Okay," Steve holds up his hands. "I'm gonna go." He makes his way over to you and is close to giving you a kiss goodbye - but when he sees Grant's glare, he opts to give you a quick forehead kiss instead and a mumbled goodnight before swiftly escaping your tense home.

A silence falls between you and your son. You take his hand and lead him to the island, both of you sitting down opposite one another. His cheeks are still flushed from earlier, his eyes wet with his previous tears.

Taking in a deep breath, you speak calmly and with a control you didn't know you had. "When we got divorced, you know that Dad started dating around pretty soon," You begin, recounting the worst time of your life. "I was angry. I wanted to get back at him, so I did what I thought would piss him off the most."

Grant raises a brow. "What'd you do?"

You let out a dry laugh. "Took his worst enemy, Sam Wilson, out to dinner. I felt so guilty that I cried when the starters came out."

"Did you stay for dessert?" He asks you with a hint of a smile.

Snorting, you shake your head. "No, I did not. Ever since then, for the last 9 years, I still felt that guilt. Even if it was just flirting with a stranger at the store, I got this weird pit of dread in my stomach. Like I was betraying your father. It wasn't his fault that I felt that way; it's just how I felt. It was like every guy I dated was just to prove Bucky a point. To rub it in his face. To get one over him, and prove that I could move on, too." Looking down at the counter, a small smile grows on your face. "But with Steve, it isn't like that at all. For the first time, I feel... safe. Safe to be with someone without caring about what your dad will think. For the first time, I've finally let go of being your dad's wife. I can finally just be me again, and that's partly because of Steve."

Frowning, Grant tightens his grip on your hand. "Then why haven't you told him yet?"

You swallow thickly, letting go of your fear. "You're right. I have no excuse. In fact, you're so right, that I'll tell him first thing tomorrow."

To your surprise and utter joy, Grant smiles at you. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you in love before, ma."

Your cheeks heat up at the word. Love. It was so recent that Steve said that word to you, but it feels like you've been in love with him forever.

"You look happy," He goes on to say warmly, before sighing. "Enough about you. Can we watch movies and eat ice-cream now? You know I just got cheated on, right? Tonight's about me."

Grinning at his dramatics, you stand up. "Of course, bubba. But first: what's Franco's mother's number? I'd like to have a word with her."

"Oh, please," Grant groans, getting up and pulling you through to the living room. "Just turn on Netflix while I peruse through your frozen treats."

"Wait," You say, grabbing his arm and looking up at him. "You came all the way from Raleigh tonight?"

"I caught the red-eye," He explains. "I just wanted to come straight here the minute I found out what he did."

"Here as in New York?" You ponder out loud. "Or here as in my house?"

"Straight to my mom, of course," He says as though it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Really?" You press with wide eyes. "You didn't wanna... I don't know, go see your dad?" Or Kaya?

"I've just been through a tragedy, Momma," Grant tells you. "There's nobody else I need more than you right now."

"Oh," You whisper. "I just... I just thought-"

"That I'd rather go to Kaya?" He finishes with a scoff.

You shrug. "The last time I saw you, we had the worst argument we've ever had."

"And you suddenly stopped being my mom?" He questions you incredulously. "Mom, you're my mom."

"But you've been spending a lot of time with her- which is fine and all, but I just figured you'd wanna go to her with this kind of thing," You mumble, even though you know you'd be pissed if he went to Kaya instead of you.

Sighing, Grant rests his hands on your shoulders. "Ma, she's Dad's wife. That's all. And sure, I have fun with her, and she's great to hang out with, but that's it. She's pretty much just a friend to me. And if all I needed was a friend tonight, I'd have stayed in Raleigh."

His words soothe you, and you almost feel stupid for getting envious in the first place. You're their mother. Get a fucking grip.

"Okay," You utter, giving him a smile. "I have butterscotch ice-cream and Oreo ice-cream sandwiches in the freezer."

A wide grin spills out on his face as he pulls you in for a hug. "And that, you wonderful creature, is why nobody could ever replace you as my mom."

> PART 6 >

hi! i no longer have a taglist, but if you follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifications, you'll know when i post 🥰

also, if you are willing and able, i would appreciate if you bought me a kofi - even the smallest of donations helps me out so much! ❤

[blackcatner00]

Monster-in-law masterlist

Summary: Your mother-in-law is the worst. She will try anything to ruin your loving relationship with Bucky. Will she succeed?

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, awful mother-in-law, unplanned pregnancy, awful behavior, pregnant reader, fluff, hurt & comfort, cuddling & snuggling, deceive, more to be added

Monster-in-law (1)

Worst-in-law (2)

Best-in-law (3)

Villain-in-law (4)

Family-in-law (5)

Sisters-in-law (6)

Forever-in-law (7)

No-more-in-laws (8)

You & Me forever (9)

Our family (10) - Epilogue

Seguir leyendo

[blackcatner00]

something good and true - masterlist

pairing: mob boss!bucky x reader

warnings: 18+ only. domestic violence. retelling of abuse and battery. minor character death mentioned. angst. sweet and protective bucky. fluff. not sure if this qualifies as a slow burn or not 👀. smut. there’s a happy ending! (as per usual)

last updated: 03/13/25

status: complete

part one

part two - (!!! tw: explicit dv, abuse, battery, and minor character death all from reader’s pov retelling of events !!!)

part three

part four - (smut)

[blackcatner00]

Supposed Distraction

Pairing: College!Athlete!Bucky x College!Reader

Summary: It’s Bucky’s birthday and you and your friends are planning a surprise party. That leaves you with the task to distract him while the others prepare.

Prompt 1: “I think we need to talk.”

Prompt 2: “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Prompt 3: “Kiss me.”

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: friends to lovers; reader is embarrassed and rather terrible at attempting to distract Bucky; Bucky is smug; Bucky is worried; Sam and Steve are idiots; feels; pining; tension; Bucky is a sweetheart

Author’s Note: This is another entry for the lovely cinema themed writing challenge by @elixirfromthestars ♡ I hope you’re not getting tired of me participating, my dear, but I couldn’t help it. Especially since you were the one inspiring me to write this about college!bucky. I'll have to thank you for that!! Hope you enjoy! ♡

Masterlist

You always knock four times.

It’s instinctive at this point, muscle memory more than conscious thought. You don’t even remember when or how it started, but it's always fours knocks.

The door swings open within seconds, revealing Bucky’s easy and bright grin. He leans against the frame, arms crossed over his broad chest, hair slightly tousled, perhaps from running his hands through it. God, he looks great.

“Hey, doll,” he greets, voice warm. “You’re early.”

You arch a brow, stepping past him when he shifts to let you in. “It’s your birthday, Buck. What kind of friend would I be if I left you alone, huh?”

Bucky exhales a short sigh, but his smile stays in place. “Told you, it’s not a big deal.”

“‘Course it is, Buck,” you argue, almost indignant at the thought. Because if anyone deserves a day where people get to celebrate him, it’s James Buchanan Barnes.

But he doesn’t make much of his birthday. He doesn’t like attention when he hasn’t earned it.

It’s why he loves the mound, standing there under stadium lights with all eyes on him, but loathes things like this - birthdays, personal praise, anything that forces him into a spotlight just for existing. You suppose that’s just part of who he is.

You saw him earlier, in university. You shared one class today. He walked in a few minutes late, baseball cap pulled low, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder.

You had been waiting for him, barely able to contain your excitement as you nearly launched yourself at him in the hallway with a cheerful happy birthday, Bucky!

He had only blinked, slightly startled at your enthusiasm before huffing out a laugh when you crushed him in a tight hug. But he hadn’t complained, only chuckled softly, winding his arms around you and pressing his hands to your back, waiting for you to be the first to pull away again.

You told him he'd receive his present later the day with a grin and Bucky only rolled his eyes with a fond smile, letting you have your moment.

But what Bucky doesn’t know is that there is a surprise party awaiting him later, planned by you and your shared group of friends - because somebody has to make sure that today doesn’t pass like it is just another day.

Sam’s apartment is the only logical choice, given that his roommate dropped out and no one had rushed to fill the space yet. That means lots of room, plus an open invitation to make a mess.

The only issue is that Sam’s apartment is directly across the hall from Bucky and Steve’s.

Which means you have been assigned a very specific task - keep Bucky in his apartment until it’s time.

Not that you had much say in the matter. The moment the question came up about who would be the one distracting him that long, every pair of eyes landed on you.

You are his best friend, but - and that’s how you see it - so is everyone else. Still, they seemed to believe that you could hold his attention for long enough, that you could keep him engaged enough not to notice the shuffle of footsteps and suspicious voices beyond his door. That it would be you who he doesn’t mind having around, lingering in his space.

Honestly, you didn’t argue.

There is not a reason as to why you should. Any excuse to spend time with Bucky is a good one.

After all, you love the guy. But that’s a problem for another day.

You drop your bag on the worn-out armchair by the window, the same spot you always claim when you are here.

Bucky’s jacket is slung over the back of the chair, and the second your bag lands on it, the scent of his cologne drifts up - clean, something woodsy, something him. It distracts you for a second, but then you turn to face him again.

He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans after closing the door again.

“Where’s Steve?” you ask casually, like you don’t already know he is across the hall, making sure everything is set up for the surprise. But you don’t know what he told Bucky.

“He said somethin’ about running some drills with the rookies, helping out the coach, or whatever,” Bucky answers, tilting his head in that unconcerned way. He slowly makes his way toward you. “Guess one of them nearly took his own damn head off trying to hit a curveball.”

One of your brows lifts amused. “And Steve’s the guy to fix that?”

Bucky smirks. “Well, y’know how he is. Someone fucks up a throw, suddenly he’s gotta be the one to teach ‘em how to do it right.” He shakes his head, like the whole thing is ridiculous.

“Yeah, sounds like Steve,” you state, trying to suppress a knowing smile.

You lean your hip against the kitchen counter, arms loosely crossed, trying to keep it casual. The apartment is small, with the kitchen bleeding into the living space, a single couch, and a coffee table taking up a lot of the room. You love it.

“So, what do you feel like doing?” You tip your head toward him. “You’re the birthday boy, you get to decide.”

Bucky scoffs, lips curling, finding your antics amusing. But then, he actually seems to consider it. His hands slip from his pockets, arms crossing as he leans back slightly against the table. His gaze falls to the window. Sunlight spills in, casting golden lines across the floor and making your hair gleam.

“You wanna go get some ice cream or somethin’?” he suggests. “It’s warm out.”

You blink, caught off guard. Bucky isn’t usually the one to propose going out. It takes a little coaxing most days, a push to get him moving and leave his apartment to meet your group of friends somewhere outside. You wonder what he would have said if anyone else were the one distracting him.

But you can’t take him up on it. Because you can’t let him leave and potentially find out.

“Uh-no,” you say, a little too quickly, a little too firmly.

Bucky’s brows lift, a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. “No?” He huffs a laugh, shifting his weight onto one foot, arms still folded. His voice takes on that slow, teasing drawl. “You just asked me what I wanna do, doll. Thought I got to decide? Y’know, birthday and all that.”

You just started this distracting thing and you are already messing up. Great.

You scramble for a way to walk it back, to keep him here without making it obvious. “Yeah, you know, I just-” You glance around as if the answer is hidden somewhere in the room. “Why don’t we stay inside?”

Bucky watches you, eyes narrowing just slightly, trying to puzzle you out. He doesn’t look suspicious. But there is a curiosity in it.

“Why?” he drags the word out, tilting his head. “Something wrong with ice cream? We could also go get some tacos maybe-”

“No! Nothing’s wrong with ice cream.” You force a laugh, waving your hand dismissively. “I just figured we could chill here for a bit.” You bite your lip, then continue. “We could bake you a cake?”

You would love to face-palm yourself right now.

Why would you even say that?

There will be plenty of cake at the party. Cake that’s already been ordered, picked out, baked yourself, and waiting across the hall. And yet, here you are, offering something completely unnecessary, completely ridiculous.

God, you are terrible at this.

Bucky’s blue eyes are on you, considering, lips parting, about to say something.

Panic rises.

“Or not,” you blurt, stepping forward too fast, too sudden, hands coming up in a vague, dismissive gesture. “Yeah, maybe not. That’s dumb. Forget I said anything.”

You shift where you stand, fingers twitching at your sides. You don’t get nervous around Bucky - at least, not like this. But something hot and uncomfortable starts to creep up the back of your neck.

A slow smirk pulls at Bucky’s mouth as he watches you with so much amusement in his eyes, enjoying whatever the hell this is turning into.

“You alright over there, doll?” he asks, voice warm, teasing.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, trying to keep your cool. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure?” He tilts his head, a lock of dark hair falling into his eyes. “Cause you’re actin’ a little funny.”

You open your mouth, a retort or something like it ready, but Bucky suddenly leans in just a fraction, gaze sweeping over your face like he is searching for something. And yeah shit, you need to shut this down. Now. Or you’ll be a hot mess on the floor.

“Just forget it.” You shrug and then move away from him, toward the fridge, suddenly very interested in whatever’s inside. “You want something to drink?”

You don’t look back at him immediately, don’t give him a chance to see the way you feel your face warm up. Instead, you grab two small bottles of orange juice, shoving one in his direction as a distraction.

Bucky takes it easily, but that amused smirk does not waver a tiny bit. He is still watching you.

Bucky is no idiot. And if you’re not careful, he’s going to catch on fast.

You twist the cap of the bottle a little forcefully, the plastic groaning in your grip. The cold of it seeps into your palm, but it’s not enough to steady the way your heart is beating a little too fast. Taking a sip of the juice, you try to swallow past the lump in your throat.

He has always been observant. Even more so when it comes to you. You wish, just this once, that he'd be a little more dense.

“You gonna tell me what’s up with you today?” he asks, voice colored with curiosity, dipping just enough into concern that you flinch internally.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

It’s defensive, but all it does is amuse him. His lips curve, his brows shoot high, the lines on his forehead creasing in exaggerated surprise.

Leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, his own bottle loosely held in one hand, he tips his head back and studies you. “That how we’re playin’ it, huh?”

You shrug, taking another sip of your juice, using the movement as an excuse to break eye contact. But you know it does not deter him.

Bucky makes a thoughtful noise, shifting his weight. “Y’know,” he drones out, tone lazy but eyes sharp and smirk sly. “Usually when people get all cagey like this, it means they’re hidin’ something.”

You shoot him a hopefully flat look. “Wow, Barnes. That’s some real detective work. You want to get a notepad? Maybe a magnifying glass?”

His smirk widens. He seems thoroughly entertained. You don’t like it.

“Depends,” he teases, leaning in just a fraction. “Do I need ‘em?”

Your pulse spikes. Bastard.

With an obvious eye roll that unfortunately lacks the conviction you tried to portray, you cross the room, shoulders set, and let yourself drop into the armchair where your bag still rests with a heavy thud. The cushions soften the impact. Trying to feign the usual comfort you feel sitting here, you tuck one leg under the other, leaning back. Your hands tighten around the still cold bottle of juice.

Bucky doesn’t move right away. He is still standing by the counter, bottle in hand, eyes never leaving you.

“Do you want to watch something?” you ask, reaching for the remote, already trying to steer this back into safe waters.

Bucky exhales through his nose, humor lining the corners of his eyes. His stance is easy and relaxed, but he looks at you like he knows something is off.

“Is this me deciding?” he muses, voice smooth. “Or are you just gonna tell me no again?”

There is no accusation in his tone, just that familiar Brooklyn drawl that makes everything sound like an inside joke.

He finally moves, dragging his body toward the couch. He doesn’t plop down like you did. He settles himself with intent and leans forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, his entire focus trained on you like you are the most interesting thing in the room.

You swallow.

“You’ll get to decide,” you promise, trying for nonchalance.

Bucky glances at the dark TV screen, then back at you.

“Nah,” he claims. “Let’s talk.”

Your stomach drops.

Bucky never lets things go when he is curious. You see the spark in his eyes, the glint of amusement, the way the corners of his mouth twitch with that smirk. He knows you are acting weird. Maybe he doesn’t know why, but he sure as hell knows something is up and he is going to dig.

You inhale deeply, fighting the urge to groan. But all you do is force a casual shrug, stretching your arms over your head before letting them drop back into your lap. “What do you want to talk about?”

Your fingers fidget with the label on the bottle, a nervous little movement you don’t mean to make. Bucky’s gaze flickers down to your hands and you freeze, immediately stilling them, letting the bottle rest in your lap and shoving your hands between your thighs.

His eyes snap back to yours, lips curving up.

“You,” he says simply.

You roll your eyes, feigning playful annoyance, because if you don’t, you might actually combust on the spot. “Oh, come on,” you scoff.

For the next few minutes, you actually manage to let a conversation drift to normal things. The familiar back-and-forth. You talk about classes, you being annoyed at that one professor who has a habit of trailing off mid-lecture, forgetting what he is actually supposed to talk about. Bucky tells you about his brutal morning training session that left half the team groaning like old men.

You bring up his next baseball game, the one you won’t be able to make because of an assignment, and Bucky whines.

He doesn’t just complain a little but rather goes on about it for minutes on end. Arms flailing, huffing dramatically, groaning like you just told him his dog died.

“You could just skip,” he protests, lounging back into the couch.

“I can’t just skip, Bucky.”

“But I need my lucky charm,” he laments, throwing his head back against the cushion as if this is some great tragedy.

You roll your eyes but there is warmth rising in your chest. “I’m sorry, Buck. But I did come to all your games last month.”

“Yeah, which is why you owe me,” Bucky retorts, sitting up again, gesturing with his hands. “I hit a homer 'cause you were there. What if I suck without you?”

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” you laugh, but Bucky grumbles under his breath, not quite over it.

It starts to feel normal. Easy. You begin to believe that you might actually pull this off. That you can keep him here, keep him occupied, long enough for your friends across the hall to finish setting up.

But then a loud thump echoes from the hallway.

Your spine goes rigid.

Bucky’s head snaps up, his grin replaced with a furrowed brow.

Another thud.

Yeah, so, that was that.

You fumble for your phone and type out a quick text to Sam.

Y: What are you guys doing out there?

The reply comes almost immediately.

S: Just keep Barnes inside.

You would love to curse loudly right now. Because thank you for nothing, Sam.

Bucky is already standing.

“What are you doing?” you ask, standing up as well, your voice perhaps a little sharper than usual.

Bucky glances at you briefly. There is a tiny bit of concern in his eyes. “There’s something goin’ on out there.” He gestures toward the door. “Think I should check. Might be Miss Nelly.”

Something clenches in your gut.

Miss Nelly, the sweet older woman who lives next door to him and Steve. The one they always help carry groceries up the stairs. The one who has trouble with her hip sometimes. If Bucky thinks she might have fallen, or perhaps tried to carry something on her own, of course, he wants to check.

But that is not what is happening out there.

You rush to step between him and the door. “Let me check.”

Bucky shakes his head. “You wait here, doll. I’ll be back in a sec-”

But you don’t let him finish.

You throw the door open and basically slam it shut behind you before he can follow.

Yes, that was perhaps a little rude. Yes, that will probably only make him more suspicious. Yes, you could have come up with something better. But you certainly did not have the time to think about what exactly.

Right outside, Sam and Steve are standing there - in front of the open door to Sam's apartment where a chair lays with its backside on the floor - wide-eyed, looking about as guilty as two kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

You would have laughed at the sight if not for the fact that you just slammed Bucky’s own apartment door basically in his face without an explanation.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” you hiss, voice low, exasperated.

Sam lifts his hands in a calm down gesture. “Listen-”

“No, you listen,” you snap, whisper-shouting, barely resisting the urge to grab them by their collars and shake them. “He’s two seconds away from walking out that door.”

Steve grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “We, uh, we miscalculated.”

“Miscalculated?” you repeat, eyes narrowing.

They both exchange a glance.

You sigh in frustration. “Where’s Nat?”

“Out with Bruce getting drinks,” Steve answers, folding his arms. “Wanda, Clint, and Laura are inside, decorating.”

“Look,” Sam starts, raising a brow. “We’re bustin’ our asses for this dickhead, and you’re the one who came up with the whole thing in the first place.”

“That’s not-”

“So you gotta do your part. Go back in and stall him some more” A grin spreads across his face and he waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I don’t know - offer him a good time.”

Your eyes narrow, hands on your hips. “Sam.”

Steve sighs, shaking his head, but there is an unmistakable smirk tugging at his lips.

You glare at them both, spinning on your heel before they can make this worse, yanking the door open and stepping back inside the apartment.

Bucky is exactly where you left him.

Arms crossed. Eyebrows raised. Lips parted slightly, caught between confusion and suspicion.

He is wearing that what the hell was that expression.

You swallow and shut the door more forcefully than necessary, the sound echoing slightly.

Bucky doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just fixes you with a stare so focused, so piecing, seemingly able to look right through you. It makes you shift where you stand, suddenly hyper-aware of every nervous tick in your body.

“Alright,” he starts slowly, carefully, eyes falling to the door before turning back to you. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Not Miss Nelly,” you quip, attempting a light and assuring tone.

It does not work.

Bucky still doesn’t blink. His jaw works. He doesn’t buy a damn thing you’re trying to sell him.

“No, doll.” His voice is lower now, thoughtful, putting together a puzzle in his head. “What’s going on with you?”

You try to press down the lump in your throat.

“You’re actin’ real weird.” His words aren’t harsh, not even accusing. Just observant.

He cocks his head slightly.

Why did the others think you could withstand the way his eyes root you to the spot without flopping down to the ground as a puddle.

You are so screwed.

You push yourself out of the conversation, walking over to the armchair again and trying to find something to keep you busy while plopping down.

“It’s nothing, Bucky.”

Your fingers curl around the juice bottle, bringing it to your lips, but the cold liquid doesn’t do much to cool the heat crawling up your spine. Your thumb works at the label, picking at the paper until it peels away in small, curling strips.

Bucky blows out a breath, rubbing a hand down his face before slowly making his way over to you.

Crouching in front of you, he braces his forearms on his knees, his eyes intently locked onto you.

The sudden closeness forces you to suck in a breath and your fingers tighten around the bottle in your hands.

His expression shifts again, humor creeping into the smirk on his mouth. “Doll,” he starts, voice light, amused. His hands slide up to rest on either side of your chair, effectively caging you in. “Did you plan somethin’ for me?”

Shit.

Your next inhale is a little hesitant. The air thickens. “No.” It sounds too stiff.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. He is smirking so wide. Enjoying this so much, the way you squirm in your seat before him.

You push forward, shaking your head. “No, Buck. I did not.”

“You sure?” He almost laughs.

“Yes, I just-” You are floundering, drowning in your own words. How can you save this now?

“I’m nervous.” Well, at least that’s not a lie.

Bucky’s expression softens immediately, his amusement fading into something quieter. He straightens up, tilting his head tenderly. His full attention is on you.

A gentle crease in his brows forms. “Why are you nervous, sweetheart?” His voice is softer now, lower.

And guilt hits you.

How do you get out of this?

But, hell, he is so close, too close. His eyes are so blue, too blue. His gaze is so intense, too intense. You are feeling hot, too hot - your brain isn’t working, it’s overheating, and your mouth is suddenly moving.

“Because.” Shut up, shut up, shut up. “Because I think we need to talk.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

The entirety of Bucky shifts and you just want the ground to eat you up right this second.

Because now he looks so worried. So genuinely concerned.

You feel yourself start to sweat. Where is this going? Why can’t you stop this? Why did you even start it?

Bucky’s face drops to a frown so deep, lines are forming. A hand of his moves, palm landing lightly on your knee.

“We can talk, doll.” His voice is even softer now, barely above a murmur. “Is something wrong? You alright?”

You just stare at him.

Your heart is hammering.

What the hell are you doing?

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as your fingers keep worrying at the torn label, peeling off strips that crumple beneath your fingertips. It’s the only thing you want to focus on right now with Bucky’s proximity and his intense gaze.

But then his hands replace the bottle and he grasps your fingers, wrapping around them and stilling their fidgeting.

Something electric rushes through your veins so quickly, you couldn’t catch it if you tried.

This is getting way too serious.

Too intimate in a way that sends your pulse skittering up your throat.

You feel like a deer caught in headlights, your body tensing up, lungs forgetting how to work properly. Because this is veering dangerously off course, heading straight for a conversation you’re not sure you’re ready to have. You never thought you’d ever be ready.

But you started this. You walked straight into it with your own words, and there is no backing out now. So you might as well be honest now.

No time like the present.

Bucky must feel the way your hands begin to tremble in his hold, because he adjusts again, shifting closer, his knees pressing against the base of your chair. His thumbs trace over the backs of your hands. His frown deepens.

Why does he have to be so worried? It would make things so much easier if he remained casual and easy. But really, that’s how Bucky always is. Worrying so fast when it comes to you. You can’t really blame this on him now, can you?

His voice drops lower, soft as a whisper. “What is it, sweetheart?” His eyes are full and searching. “Talk to me.”

Air hitches, stalling between your ribs before pushing forward in a rather trembling exhale. Your lungs barely feel full. Your eyes dart away from his, searching the room, the floor, anywhere but him.

“Did I upset you? Is it something I did-”

“No!” you rush out, hastily. “No, you didn’t do anything, Buck.” God, now he even goes that far. This is bad.

Bucky softens a tiny fraction, but he keeps sweeping his eyes over your face, latching on the details, trying to study you, trying to read what this is about. “You can tell me, doll. Always. Whatever it is,” he coos so sweetly, and it makes you want to cry.

How do you even start this?

You open your mouth. You’re certainly not ready to climb the whole mountain, but perhaps you can try a small hill.

“Do you-” You swallow, trying to sound as if you are simply reminiscing. “Do you remember that time after your game last year when it started pouring the second we left the stadium?”

Bucky blinks at the sudden turn. Confusion enters his features but the worry only deepens. “What?”

You push forward, gaze fixed on the arm of your chair as if it might give you the courage you need. “You gave me your jersey, even though I already had a jacket and you were the one soaking wet-”

Bucky’s brows pull further together, his head shaking slowly, not knowing what to do with your words. “Doll-”

“You walked me all the way back to my apartment.” Your voice turns quieter as if you are speaking more to yourself than him. Perhaps you are. Saying those things out loud makes them seem so much more important. “And then you got sick for three days.”

His hands squeeze yours gently. “I mean- Yeah, I remember.” Confusion also settles in his tone. “But what’s that got to do with-”

“I don’t know,” you cut in quickly. “I just-” You exhale a deep sigh. “I think about that a lot.”

Bucky says your name like it is something delicate. Something that might slip away if he is not careful.

“Look at me, please.”

You try, but it’s hard.

It means staring into those impossibly blue eyes that see too much, that strip you bare without even trying, that try to coax something out of you, you didn’t even plan on letting go.

But you force yourself to lift your gaze and it is worse than you expected.

He is watching you with an intensity that makes you stop breathing. His stormy eyes are so full of concern, so desperate to understand what is going on in your head, searching every inch of your face.

His lips are parted slightly. His breathing is sharper. Uneven.

“What’s going on, hm?” he coaxes, so softly, so full of patience you don’t deserve. “What’s this about? You still feelin’ guilty?”

Your heart plummets like a stone.

“Doll, there’s no need to, alright?” His hands squeeze yours, grounding, reassuring. “We talked about this.”

God, why does he have to be so good?

His voice is so warm. Warm like sunlight, like home. It makes the sting behind your eyes grow stronger.

You don’t want to cry.

You don’t want to feel this way. Don’t want to ruin his fucking birthday like this. This is getting so out of hand right now, but what should you do? You are so tangled up in trying to figure out what to say, things you are too much of a coward to finally admit out loud.

Bucky notices your struggles. He sees them. Plain on your face. His thumbs brush over your skin in careful strokes. “And you took such good care of me.” His tone lightens, trying to pull you out of whatever hole you’re sinking into. “Remember that part?”

You nod, swallowing and swallowing but the clump of emotions stays stuck in your throat. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out flat, like you are detached from it. “I do. Sorry for bringing it up.”

Bucky’s lips press together, and then he sighs so deeply, his chest rises and falls profoundly.

“Doll,” he murmurs, straightening up, arms beside you tensing as though he is holding himself back from doing something. “That’s not what you wanted to talk about.”

He’s right.

“Darlin’, please,” he urges, and god, the way that word falls from his lips makes you shudder. His voice is barely above a whisper now, full of something genuine, something tender, something that makes him sound like he wishes you would just talk to him, and it makes you want to shrink down to something he can’t see anymore. “What is it?”

You could lie. Again.

You could laugh it off, steer the conversation away, keep pretending.

You could drag this out further until the others are ready, leaving him worried and slightly upset.

You could tell him the truth about the party.

Or you could finally come clean about the feelings you have held in your heart for so long. Feelings for your best friend.

Drawing in a breath, you straighten slightly. Your hands, still held in his, still shaking, squeeze back. His eyes never waver from your face, tracing the contours of your features.

You clear your throat, but it doesn’t help much. “Uhm,” you croak. “I- I wanted- I need to tell you something.”

His fingers twitch around yours. His features fall into a deep concentration. He doesn’t rush you. Just watches. Waits.

And god, his eyes are pools you never learned to swim in.

You look away, at the wall behind him. “I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now, I guess. But-” You inhale a quivering breath. “But I was afraid. Because I don’t know how you’ll react.”

Bucky doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. His chest rises and falls deeply, almost mechanically. There is something almost spellbound in the way he stares at you, completely locked in, completely yours. The only sign that he has heard you is the subtle press of his fingers against yours.

His head dips in a nod for you to go on.

You wet your lips. “I, uhm-”

But then something catches your attention.

The door to Bucky’s and Steve’s apartment opens.

Painstakingly slow.

You stiffen.

Bucky is still so enamored with what you were saying, he doesn’t seem to notice at first. His back is to the door.

You see heads peeking through the small gap, cautious, bodies frozen in an awkward crouch as if that makes them less noticeable.

Steve and Sam.

They are trying to slip in without a sound, their movements so unbelievably slow, exaggerated. They resemble cartoon characters sneaking through a heist.

Sam motions at you wildly, gesturing at Bucky, at himself, at the hallway, mouthing something like distract him! Keep him busy.

They almost make it, but Bucky catches the small reaction of you, the surprise. His senses are too tuned in to every little thing about you and with his brows knit together, he shifts to glance over his shoulder.

You don’t think about anything.

Your hands rip from his, and before he can turn fully, before he can see those two idiots, you grab his face.

Bucky jolts, startled, his breath hitching audibly. His skin is warm beneath your palms, the sharp angle of his jaw fitting perfectly against your hands. His wide eyes snap back to you, dumbfounded, searching.

He blinks at you. Then blinks again. Then simply stares.

His lips part slightly, breath brushing over your skin.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

This is close. Too close. Closer than you’ve ever been. Well, but not closer than you’ve let yourself imagine. But having him here in reality is something else entirely.

Sam throws you a thumbs up over Bucky’s head and a wiggle of his brows and the both of them disappear from sight into the hallway.

But you just made this worse.

And you are still holding his face between your hands.

Bucky’s lashes flicker, but he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t fight it. Just stares at you like you’ve done something earth-shattering, like you’ve just rewritten every unspoken rule between you in a single, desperate motion.

Your pulse is a drum against your throat.

You see Bucky’s pulse thunder in his neck.

But he doesn’t move. You don’t move either.

He doesn’t breathe. You don’t know if you do.

He watches you. You watch him back.

“Doll?” Bucky practically breathes the question.

You swallow hard. Opening your mouth doesn’t help with finding words, so you shut it again. Slowly, you pull your hands away from his face.

But Bucky still doesn’t move.

His breath is still broken, his lips still parted, his brows still slightly drawn, stuck somewhere between surprise and something so deep, you’d be falling endlessly.

He is leaning in just the slightest bit, as though his body hasn’t quite caught up with his mind, not even realizing he is doing it.

And you hate the way your chest aches at the look in his eyes.

There is so much all at once and the more you stare, the harder it gets.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, dropping your gaze.

But there is movement in your peripheral.

Steve and Sam are creeping back out of the hallway, lugging something that looks like Bucky’s speaker system from his room.

And god help you, they are still moving at a snail’s pace, their motions so exaggerated, so painfully slow and obvious that you want to scream. You grit your teeth.

Fortunately, Bucky is still just staring at you, stunned.

The two are just about to reach the door, so close to getting through this ridiculous charade, when Sam’s end of the box bumps against the shoe shelf.

The sound isn’t loud, but it’s enough. Enough for Bucky’s head to instinctively turn toward the noise. Enough for his body to shift just slightly.

Your brain short-circuits.

Like completely.

Totally.

Lacking any sense.

Not only do you pull his face back.

You pull it in.

“Kiss me,” you blurt, and it’s not soft, not sweet, not anything carefully planted - it’s desperate, panicked.

Bucky’s whole face just goes wide, pure shock filtering out anything else.

Another bump.

You’re not sure Bucky even heard it, but your lips crash onto his with urgency.

Bucky freezes.

And when you say freeze, you mean freeze.

Every muscle in his body turns to stone. His hands flex before going rigid, floating in the air. His breath stalls. His spine goes straight, and the grunt he lets out - so low and gravelly, caught deep in his throat - reverberates into your mouth.

But behind him, Steve and Sam go as still. Dead silent.

You can feel them watching, their eyes practically bulging out of their skulls.

For a full few seconds, nothing happens.

But then, there is a shift. You don’t see it, but you know it. The way their disbelief turns into something smug - something amused and downright delighted. You feel the way Sam’s mouth probably stretches into that toothy and knowing, cocky-ass grin. You feel the way Steve simply looks happy.

You don’t pull away.

Instead, you wave one frantic hand behind Bucky’s back, motioning wildly, trying to get them to move.

You open an eye to see them still staring, Steve blinking rapidly, Sam grinning like a fool, nudging Steve.

But then, finally, they start creeping out of the room again.

They are gone now.

Bucky still isn’t moving.

He’s not breathing.

He’s not reacting.

And the tension stretches so tight, you swear the air could snap in half.

Because this isn’t just a distraction anymore.

This isn’t just a cover-up.

Your lips are still on Bucky’s.

Your hands are still gripping his face.

And his are trembling where they hover near your knees, as if he wants to touch you, wants to move, but his brain is still struggling to catch up with what is happening.

Then the tension snaps.

Bucky exhales against you.

It’s not just a breath - it’s a surrender. A sharp and shuddering exhale that stirs against your lips, warm and tentative, as if he is trying to feel what is happening, trying to understand the shape of this moment.

His hands flex and twitch against your legs, but he is hesitant, as if waiting for something, waiting for you to pull back, waiting for this to be some kind of mistake.

But you don’t pull back.

You don’t want to pull back.

And that’s when he melts.

He sinks into the kiss, his body softening, folding inward toward you. His fingers slide up your legs, brushing tenderly against the fabric of your pants before settling on your hips, cautious, like he doesn’t want to break the moment, doesn’t want to take too much.

Then, his lips move. It’s a slow, searching motion, testing the waters, trying to figure you out. His mouth is warm, his lips so much softer than you imagined. And hell, did you imagine.

He makes a sound - low and unsure, a hum deep in his throat that vibrates against your lips. His movements are careful, almost disbelieving. Like he is afraid this will disappear if he lets himself want it too much.

But then something changes.

Your nails lightly run over his neck, thumbs over his jawline.

And you feel the exact second the hesitation snaps.

He pulls you in.

His hands tighten, fingers digging into your hips, pulling you forward to the edge of the seat, into his chest, his grip growing needy, desperate. He seems to have been starving for this, like something in him has just broken loose.

The kiss turns deeper, heavier, a push and pull of breath and movement. He kisses you with searching urgency, trying to memorize the exact shape of your mouth, the way you feel pressed against him, the way you taste.

His lips part, just for a moment, and then he dares to press in a little more, tilting his head, fitting his mouth more firmly against yours.

He makes another sound - this time rougher, needier - a groan that slips through the space between you.

You can feel the want in the way he kisses you, in the way he angles his head to take more, to taste more, and damn if it does not overwhelm you.

The way his fingers tighten their hold, his thumbs brushing just beneath the hem of your shirt, needing to feel your warmth.

And the way he breathes you in, each exhale shaky, each inhale sharper, like he is drunk on this, on you.

Your hands find purchase in his hair, fingers tangling in the strands at the nape of his neck, and the second you pull just so slightly, he makes a sound.

A gravelly noise that shoots straight through you, heat curling at the base of your spine.

He is kissing you like he can’t help it anymore. As if he has been waiting for this exact moment, for you, for so long that he’s past the point of fighting it.

You thought he’d pull away. You thought he’d startle and demand an explanation, eyes sharp with suspicion, voice laced with confusion. But he doesn’t.

His lips only press more firmly against yours, his nose sweeping against your cheek, his chest rising and falling unevenly, breathing erratic as if he is just as lost in this as you are.

Your heart is hammering so violently in your chest, you think he must hear it, must feel it where your body is pressed to his. Your hands are slightly trembling, sliding to curl into the fabric of his shirt, holding onto him. Because you have to hold on. You have to anchor before you fall, before you slip too deep into the intoxicating pull of him and lose all sense of self.

But maybe you already have.

Because he is kissing you as though he’s afraid this is a dream, testing the edges of reality with every careful, exploring movement of his tongue and lips.

He tastes like something warm, something safe, something like the orange juice you two have been drinking, something wholly Bucky. Every press of his lips, every brush of his tongue against yours, is stealing a coherent thought from your mind.

This was supposed to be a distraction. This was supposed to be a lie.

But hell, it’s not.

It’s everything you’ve ever wished for.

When you pull away, both breathless and panting, his forehead stays against yours.

Your pulse is so fast, so fluttering, and you know he can feel it, the way it thrums in your chest, in your throat, in the slight tremor of your fingers still curled loosely in his shirt.

His hot and shuddering exhale fans over your lips and it’s maddening how much you want to taste them again, how much you want to fall right back into him.

You open your eyes.

His are already on you, so close, so intent, so devastatingly blue that they don’t help at all in trying to regain a healthy breathing rate. There is something in them, something soft and devoted, something awed, like he can’t quite believe you are real, that this is real.

A shiver works its way down your spine, leaving goosebumps in its way and Bucky sees it. He feels it. His grin widens, slow and boyish almost, something that makes him look young and light, like something is lifted off his shoulders.

Your name is a breath that leaves his lips with the kind of care reserved for wishes made on falling stars.

It sends another shudder through you, and his grin turns brilliantly wide.

“That the present you were talkin’ about earlier?” he breathes, voice still hoarse, still dazed.

You huff a laugh, shaking your head. Smiling. Grinning. Like a fool. God, you can’t stop. It’s lifting your cheeks and making you feel giddy in a way you haven’t felt in so long.

“No,” you whisper back, voice airy.

“Don’t matter,” Bucky’s voice is full of affection, of something certain. His hands slide up, one cupping your jaw, thumb skimming over your cheek, the other finding the nape of your neck, fingers weaving into your hair. Holding you there. Holding you close. “Best damn present I’ve ever gotten.”

His tone is so sincere, so full of adoration, that your breath turns upside down, and you can’t do anything but feel the way butterflies are dancing in your stomach.

Heat floods your face and Bucky’s fingers flex against your skin, his smile turning impossibly brighter.

His eyes are shining with something you don’t think you’ve ever seen in them before. It’s breathtaking. It’s promising. It’s worshipful.

It’s everything.

You guess you owe him a little bit of an explanation.

There is guilt pooling in the hesitation before you speak. “Buck?” you start, voice quiet.

“Yeah, baby?” he drawls, and the way the new nickname rolls from his tongue so seamlessly makes your next inhale shatter midway, breaking into uneven pieces. You almost feel like choking.

His voice is so full of warmth, so soft, so fond. He is smiling at you and his eyes are sparkling as if you’ve just handed him the world. He is kneeling in front of you, patient and content, as though he’s got all the time in the world if it means spending it with you.

Something dizzying rushes through your veins, sparking at the base of your spine. You have to take a moment, a single, shaky pause to shove the giddiness down for later, to not let it explore the wide landscape of your heart and mind.

You clear your throat, shifting slightly in your seat, still at the edge of the armchair. Your chest almost brushing against Bucky’s. “I, uh- I do have something planned for you.”

Bucky is beaming. His amusement spills over into something so brilliant and blinding. His entire face lights up, so open, so full of adoration that it makes a feeling of pure bliss explode in your chest, sending delightful shivers down to your toes and hell, you don’t think you can handle it.

“Oh, do you?” he muses, dragging the words out slow and teasing. There is something beneath the syrupy sweetness. Something like mischief. His brows raise, eyes glinting, his lips twitch, and you know he is about to be a menace.

Tilting his head, Bucky feigns deep thought, but his eyes stay on you at all times. “Would that involve two idiots tryna sneak around behind my back?”

You blink at him.

Bucky’s grin turns wolfish and he bites his lip to suppress a laugh.

“You were actin’ all off from the beginning, doll. Knew somethin’ was up,” he states, voice a little softer, until he turns on his playful teasing voice again. “Flawless execution, sweetheart. Didn’t notice a damn thing.”

Groaning loudly, you press your hands to your face and Bucky lets the laugh out. It’s full-bodied and wholehearted. His chest shakes, his shoulders lift, his body tilts into it. And it’s such a good sound, such a lovely sound, so rich and free. It makes your own lips curl despite the frustration of the ruined surprise.

Bucky reaches up to gently pry your hands away from your face. His grip lingers, thumbs tracing over your knuckles, his touch so easy and natural.

His expression gives way to something soft. He bites his lip again, before bringing your hands up and kissing them softly, twinkling bright blue eyes trained on you and the deep flush that spreads along your cheeks.

Perhaps Bucky Barnes finally has a reason to start celebrating his birthday.

“But oh baby! Your smile.. Felt like warm sunshine after a heavy storm.. Overdose of it, is still not enough for me..”

- Zankhana

[blackcatner00]

FIC RECS (Part 16) :)

Hey guys, so here it finally is. The CEO!Bucky Rec List. Sorry its taken so long for me to get this out, I really have just been feeling not so hot. So it took me a while to get it done. BUT its longer than usual to make up for they delay. Reading these made me feel a lot better, so I hope you guys like it! :)

(smuts are denoted with a ***, theres a lot of them haha)

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