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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 5 days ago

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Oh my...

Hitting me hard with this one. It’s getting hot in here. Wanna switch places with her so bad. Bucky, you hot motherfucker.

Let me dive a little deeper:

He didn’t mind that. On the contrary, this place hadn’t felt like home until you came into his life. Since you started coming around, these four walls transformed with your presence—traces of you woven into every corner. The stray hair ties that lay scattered throughout the rooms, a few of your sweaters in his closest in exchange for stealing some of his, the cat mug you claimed as yours, and your latest read left unfinished on his coffee table to be picked up and continued while he cooked dinner for you two on his nights off. All these little things and more made his house warmer, fuller, and undeniably a home. Turning this space into something he longed to come back to every night.

Those little details. 🥹 Can picture it so perfectly in my mind. So sweet! 🥰

“I said you look good, doll. I really like your costume,” he repeats his unheard compliment, shamelessly raking his eyes over your form. You gulp the rest of the wine in your cup—the spark of tension reigniting. Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from how the black lacy gothic corset top hugged your breasts perfectly, and the matching leather pants clung to you like a second skin—leaving nothing to the imagination. And to Bucky’s added torture, you decided to strap a leather harness to your thighs that he had to resist the urge to grasp by the straps and pull you flush against his frame so you could feel how hard you made his—

The tension is so palpable. Love how he's so bold and shameless. And wow, it’s warming up so rapidly.

“I’ll be good, doll. I’ll be real good to you.”

Uh, sir, let me go down on my knees for you.

As if the word baby wasn’t enough to have your heart leap out of your chest—Bucky’s fingers toying with the harness at your thighs, and the button of your pants certainly did. Swiftly, he proceeds to undo it all and the zipper. You eagerly help him slip it all off, and when his gaze meets the soaked front of your seamless cotton panties, a husky growl reverberates in his chest. His fingers hook at the edges while his teeth graze along the front of the fabric. The action takes your breath away, your heart racing a mile a minute. His hooded eyes bore into yours as he takes the fabric between his teeth and drags it down your body, baring your slick folds to him—he groans at the sight.

Hell, this is so hot. He’s so soft but also firm at the same time and it makes me feral. His growl. His gaze. Girl, what are you doing to me 🥵

Something shifts inside him when you look at him with soft adoring eyes, filling his heart with a thing that can only be called love. It causes him to pepper kisses—gentle and tender—all over your face to help ease the achy stretch. You melt into them, so contrastingly soft to the prior ones that your heart does a little flip. The deeper feelings behind them not lost on you. Even more so when he whispers the sweetest words of devotion at every kiss. How beautiful you are, how good you feel, how good he wants to make you feel, how he’s dreamed of this, and so much more. All the meanwhile, his thumbs massage comforting circles into your hips.

I feel like screaming!! Oh my godness! His affection makes me so weak! I love how you included his adoration and his love for her. He takes what he wants but is so sweet about it and that makes everything so perfect! ❤️

You cup his face in your hands, eyes glazed over and needy as you tell him, “Bucky, don’t hold back. It’s okay. You don’t need to hold back,” you assure him, his pace faltering slightly. Bucky’s blue eyes search yours for a reason not to give in. “I don’t want to hurt you, Y/n. I don’t know if I can trust myself,” the vulnerability in his voice tugs at your heartstrings, your thumbs gently caressing his face to soothe him. He instantly leans into your touch, the comfort it offers addicting.

AHHH!! He's so sincere and concerned, my heart swells! ❤️

You shake your head, planting a soft kiss on his forehead, “You won’t. I trust you, Bucky. I told you—I can handle it, baby—please, baby,” at the term of endearment the rope of restraint inside Bucky snaps. You had never called him baby before, but now that you had Bucky wanted to know what else he had to do—or not do—to keep making you call him baby like that.

I love this term of endearment! And it's so sweet in this situation! And Bucky losing his composure 🤭❤️

“Screw the party. I’d rather show my pretty girl, my baby—a good time here,” he mumbles against your lips, his breath hot and uneven as he picks you up from the counter. You giggle out a gasp as he carries you over to his bedroom where he does indeed show you a good time—a great time, in fact, all night long.

Ditching the party and instead giving her a good time? Now that’s a man! I'm smitten.

Happy Halloween to you.

Happy Halloween to me indeed.

Mel, I'm impressed. This came unexpected but I loved it! Happy as always with you work! ❤️🤗

Thank you!

Sink Your Teeth In Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Neighbor!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky are supposed to attend Sam's party on Halloween. However, when you show up to his place looking like temptation itself—he gets other ideas on how to spend the night with you.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warning(s): spooky fun vibes / smut / fluff / female reader / mutual pining / love bites / dirty talk / unprotected sex / pet names / 18+ mdni / sprinkles (who am I kidding it might be a little more than just sprinkles) of possessive Bucky / breast play / a tiny moment of drinking / smut with little plot

Prompt(s): human (vampire costume) / treat (fluff, smut) / neighbor / “Why are you looking at me like that?” + “Spread them. Further.” + “You’re pretty like that.” + “There you go. Doing so good for me.” ཐི❤︎ཋྀ

a/n: uhhhhh this is what happens when you let me write while on medication post surgery lol please ignore how late this is, your girl was going through it 😭 This is for @buck-star ‘s Trick or Treat fun 🎃🧡 Also based on this ask she sent me, so this is for you Sydney 🤭🧡. I hope you all enjoy!! Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ❤️🦇❤️

vampire divider ♡ // main masterlist ♡ // bucky masterlist ♡

You’ve heard all the superstitions about the full moon before. The way it seemingly makes people act strangely—far from themselves. The word lunatic and lunacy are tied to the moon as well, having been believed to incite mania in people. An unrecognizable version of themselves whose impulses bordered on primal. Tonight was no exception to such superstitions as the full moon hung high in the sky on Halloween. Promising to pull the sentiments from the deepest depths of each person out into the open.

However, in this instance, an argument could be made that the moon was not at fault for how your pulse quickened or how your heart hammered in your chest. No, not even if the moon’s glow reflected in Bucky’s eyes so beautifully that they resembled a pair of sapphires staring right back at you. Freezing you to your spot right outside his door.

The moon was also certainly not telling you to push Bucky into his home and crash your lips onto his until your lungs begged for air. No, oh no, that was all you.

“You here to drive a stake through my heart, doll?” Bucky’s playful tone broke you from your trance, biting his bottom lip as he held back a smug grin. A flicker of something bewitching crosses his eyes as they search yours for an answer.

You shifted on your feet, mortification prickling your skin as you collected yourself. “I might if you don’t keep those fangs to yourself,” you quip, tapping his chest with the fake wooden stake in your hand, trying to disperse the attention away from the way you had ogled Bucky. You wouldn’t say you had a thing for vampires, but his costume was giving him this mystic allure that was fueling an unspoken desire you had been harboring for him since you met half a year ago.

Bucky’s vampire costume was far from the cheesy kind you could find at any corner pop-up Halloween store—it was quite the opposite. Bucky dawned on a crisp white dress shirt underneath a black vest that wrapped around his torso—emphasizing his broad build. A few buttons on the shirt were undone, revealing just enough skin to make your eyes wander. His black trousers fit his legs as if they had been tailored perfectly to their length. His velvet cape was an onyx color with a deep crimson lining that swayed behind him at every movement. To top it off, a pair of fangs poked out from his smile that sent a shiver down your spine from their playful danger.

He certainly looked the part of a vampire—dreamily menacing in the best way.

A deep chuckle leaves his lips, his eyes glinting mischievously as he winks at you, “Don't worry, doll. I won’t bite unless you ask me nicely.” His words bore a hint of a promise that caused your heart to skip a beat. Flirting with him wasn’t unusual—you’ve been doing it since you became neighbors—despite that, tonight, it felt different.

You let out a sound between a snort and a laugh—pushing away the heat that wants to spark itself into a flame, “I’ll pass on the biting, thanks, but I would appreciate a drink before we head out.” Your words are punctuated with an expression he can never say no to.

When Bucky is met with your soft eyes and sweet smile, that appeals to him like no other—there’s no way he can say no. He opens the door wider for you to step inside, welcoming you into his home with a passing comment that he could use a drink too. You walk in with a familiarity as if the home were your own. Which—if you asked Bucky—it might as well be. You spend so much time here he’d go so far as to say this was more your place than his.

You close his front door and follow him to his kitchen, the butterflies in the pit of your stomach not going away. Not that they ever did in his presence, but on some days it was easier to ignore the fluttering.

Today would not be that kind of day.

He reaches up into his cupboards, taking out two crystal glasses while idly chatting about the Halloween party Sam was throwing. You weren’t listening, mind elsewhere as you attempted to distract the inappropriate thoughts away, simply watching as he promptly poured out two servings of wine. He handed one to you, his hand brushing against yours at the motion—sending a jolt of electricity through it. You grip the glass a little tighter than you should and hastily take a sip.

You would definitely need more than one drink.

“Are you even listening, doll?” Bucky was staring at you with an amused expression, wine glass hovering at his lips as he called out your inattentiveness. Your attention gets brought back to his mouth which no longer hosts the fake fangs. He had removed them so as to not stain them with the wine.

When had he done that? How long had the passage of time escaped you?

A warmth found its way to your face, trying to hide behind the crystal glass in your hand. Bucky knew you weren’t listening to him and his only theory as to why was clued in by the fact that your gaze continued to drift to his lips.

“Huh? Oh, I was—it’s just…” you trail off trying to find an excuse, but when you can’t find one—or at least one you can tell him—you concede. “Sorry, what did you say?” He leans against the counter at your question, a smirk dancing on his lips. His eyes darken ever so slightly, as he ponders how far he can take the flirting tonight.

Bucky stopped himself from letting his mind wander to places that would cause all of his blood to rush south.

You looked down at your costume, not thinking much of it when putting it together. When Bucky told you he was dressing up as a vampire you thought it would be fitting to dress up as a vampire hunter. You were on a budget though, so between your closet and thrifting you came up with the outfit you’re wearing now.

“Thanks, Bucky. You definitely did a better job though,” you compliment him, thinking that if anyone deserved praise for their costume—it was him. Bucky shakes his head, taking another sip of his wine, “Not me. Sam. He’s dressing up as a twenties mobster, so he let me borrow his costume from last year. Apparently, he goes all out every Halloween.”

“Does he? Can’t wait to see how the party turned out then,” you comment, your nerves over meeting his friends for the first time bubbling its way into your system. Bucky gives you a small smile, the sight easing your anxieties ever so slightly, “Speaking of which—we should probably head out now. The party starts soon and Sam’s due to blow up my phone any second now,” he grumbles, finishing off the rest of his wine. A single deep red droplet runs down the corner of his mouth. Your fingers itch to wipe it off, but instead his tongue darts out to catch it—licking his lips in the process. A soft intake of breath was heard from you, an instinctive response to what he had done. The subtle sound revealing more than words ever could.

There’s a shift in the air—it’s inevitable—you both feel it.

The space between you is now charged, the kitchen feeling smaller and yet the space between you two, too far apart. Bucky’s eyes shine with a gentle intensity as he saunters over to you. Delicately towing at the lines you both wish to cross tonight.

Your eyes search his for his intentions the closer he gets. Trying to decipher what you can as his left arm reaches out behind you to grab his keys—momentarily caging you. Your lower back presses against the counter, heart stuttering in your chest as the scent of cedar and spice from his cologne encases you.

“Yeah we should…” you swallow hard, voice barely audible as your eyes lock on his lips, the wine having stained them a deep crimson color. Resembling that of a vampire’s after they’ve feasted on the blood of another. A rich shiver makes its way down your spine—one he easily catches. This emboldens him, his own eyes travel down your face and then further down to observe the way your breasts strain against the corset.

Bucky was tempted to sink his teeth, and something else, into you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you found your voice somewhere between the longing that plagued you and the urge to pull him closer.

“Like what, doll?”

“Like you’re seconds away from changing everything between us.”

When those words leave your lips, Bucky knows there’s no point in denying it. “Maybe because I am,” he responds in a low murmur, before wasting not another second and crashing his lips against yours. His hands finding purchase at your hips and giving a light squeeze. Your lips part in a soft gasp at the sensation, his touch kindling the craving you’ve had for him from the moment you stepped foot into his house. Your hands find their way to his robe, the velvet soft underneath your fingertips as you pull him closer, wanting to leave no space for air between you.

Bucky’s on the verge of losing his mind with your body pressed so close to his. His tongue prods gently at your mouth seeking entrance—something you eagerly give. When your tongues tangle you let out a soft moan that teeters on a whimper and it stirs something deep in his gut. He so desperately wants to pull more sounds out of you, but he needs to know you want this as much as he does.

He pulls away from the kiss momentarily, resting his forehead against yours to catch his breath. Your hands relax and let go of his robe to rest against his chest instead. Savoring the way oxygen finds its way into your lungs again.

“Tell me to stop and I will…” Bucky swallows hard as he says this. His mind reeling as he tries to calm the tightness in his pants. You shake your head, “I won’t. I want this, Bucky. I want you,” to assure him of your words, you pull him in by the loops of his dress pants, rolling your hips slowly against his bulge causing him to hiss at the pleasure.

“Fuck, doll. The things you do to me.”

“Show me.”

Your plea makes Bucky throw all hesitation out the window. Grabbing onto the straps of the harness at your thighs to press you into him and grind against you—groaning at the friction. You reach up and card your fingers through his hair to pull him down for another searing kiss. Your mouths moving with a sense of urgency and purpose. Needing to make up for all those days you only let yourselves flirt and never truly gave in to what you really wanted.

The spark of desire bursts into embers as the intensity of the kisses increases—tongues dancing, teeth clashing, and your breaths entwined as you lose yourselves to the taste of one another. Every inch of your skin titilating in anticipation for Bucky’s touch. It’s evident you both need more, so Bucky snakes his hands down to cup your ass, hiking you up and around his waist to carry you over to the nearest surface.

“You’re. So. Goddamn. Beautiful,” Bucky punctuates every word with nips to your jawline as he places you on the granite island. Your fingers brush past the edge of something plastic as you steady yourself on the cool surface. Your eyes reflexively look over and see the fake fangs Bucky had on earlier. Your remember the way they looked on him and your mind wanders to what his own teeth can do.

“Bite me,” the words slip out before you register how demanding they may sound. A deep rumble resonates from Bucky as he laughs at the way you said it. He removes himself from your jawline to get a good look at you—his cock twitching at the sight of you.

Your chest heaved with exertion from all the air Bucky stole from you, your breasts threatening to spill out from your corset—lips swollen and pupils blown wide with desire. Knowing that this was your reaction to his kisses, to his touch, to him before you’ve even gotten to the main part—Bucky had to stop himself from coming undone then and there knowing he had such an effect on you.

“Didn’t I say you had to ask nicely, doll?” he mocks playfully, eliciting a needy whine from you. The sound goes straight to his dick as it painfully aches to be inside you. He doesn’t think he can hold out much longer, as much as he’s enjoying the kisses.

“Spread them. Further,” Bucky mutters the command into your lips, his hands sliding up your legs. You oblige his request, giving him more space to settle between your thighs. Your fingers thread through his hair as he trails open-mouthed kisses down to your pulse point—nipping and sucking hard enough to leave marks.

Bucky relishes in the soft whines and whimpers that leave you whenever he bites down just enough to hit the bliss point between pain and pleasure—soothing any remaining sting with his tongue. He catches the way your nipples harden underneath your corset—pressing against the fabric—making him crave a taste.

“Gonna mark you up pretty girl—everywhere,” the low murmur of a promise is sealed into your skin, teeth grazing your neck delicately as he holds off on marking you there for the time being. His fingers hastily unhook the clasps of your corset, your breasts spilling out. He cups them in his hands, kneading the soft flesh while you moan copiously. Bucky greedily swallows every single one.

His head dips down to pepper kisses across the valley of your breasts before dragging his tongue across one hardened nipple—teasing you as your breathing grew ragged. Your chest arches into him, moaning out his name as he moves to the other breast. Taking the unkissed bud into his mouth and sucking on it with a hunger that borders on savage.

“I know I said bite me, but watch those teeth.”

“I’ll be good, doll. I’ll be real good to you.”

He chuckles against your breast, causing delicious vibrations that send shivers down your spine. He moves over to the other nipple, giving it a playful nip that causes you to hiss out a watch it. He laughs again, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he continues to worship your breasts. The pleasure shoots straight to the throbbing between your legs, your underwear dampening.

Nimble fingers find their way to his dress shirt and vest where you do your best to unbutton as much as you can, needing to see and touch more of him. You run your fingers down the hard planes of his chest and abs—your touch leaving heat in its wake. Bucky continues to lavish attention to your sensitive buds, his lips swirling and sucking the peaks insatiably.

When his lungs burn for air he reluctantly releases your nipple with a wet pop—pulling away to see the evidence he’s left on your skin. “Mmm, you’re pretty like that doll—all marked up by me,” his fingers trailing and tracing over the marks he’s left on your neck, your collarbone, and your breasts. His thumb brushing over them with feather-like touches as an almost affectionate gesture. Your body shudders at the possessive gleam in his eyes—one that only intensifies the more his gaze lingers on your skin.

You’ve never seen him look at you like this before—and you didn’t mind it. Not one bit.

“Bucky…please…I need more of you.”

“I know, baby. I’ll give you what you need.”

“Fuck, doll, so ready for me.”

Bucky takes your panties and pockets them. Just as you're about to give him shit for it, he springs up to kiss your lips fervently. Hands at your thighs massaging the soft flesh, his thumbs brushing ever so slightly where you need him most. All prior thoughts are forgotten as you reach for Bucky's belt, desperately removing all obstacles until you can easily slide your hand into his pants. You palm over the bulge in his boxers, stroking him through the fabric. Your eyes widen at the feel of his size causing him to grin at you wolfishly.

“Something the matter, doll?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

Your confident tone provokes a deep rumble in Bucky’s throat. His hips jerk forward involuntarily, seeking more of your arousing touch. He pulls his pants and boxers down and off, freeing his cock. It springs forth, long and thick, the tip already glistening with precum. "Got me all worked up, baby. Just look at it—fuck," his voice is thick with lust, guiding your hand to wrap around his shaft. Your hand glides against him, causing him to let out a low grunt followed by the neediest moans. His nose brushes against yours as he tries not to entirely lose himself to the sheer pleasure that courses through him at your touch.

Almost desperately, he leans in to capture your mouth again, kissing you deeply, his hips rocking into your hand at the rhythm of your movements. His flesh hand grabs the back of your neck to keep you close as he devours you, while his metal one trails up between your thighs—the coolness teasing the delicate skin—contrasting the heat that builds with the kiss. You moan into it, reveling in the feel of Bucky’s length in your hand as you stroke him slowly, becoming familiar with it.

Bucky groans into your mouth, a resonant growl of pure want. His fingers go higher up your thighs until the cool metal grazes against your center, drawing out a whimper from you. Your thighs part further in response causing him to smirk against your lips. A smirk that falls into a ravenous hiss as his fingers brush your folds, the sick arousal coating them as he dips to circle your entrance teasingly—your hips bucking in response.

“Bucky…” his name falls from your mouth with a carnal yearning that snaps Bucky's control entirely. His hands grip your hips to pull you closer to him—balancing you on the edge of the counter. He takes hold of his cock, positioning himself at your entrance, the head brushing against your cunt. Your patience is nonexistent at this point.

“Bucky, if you tell me to ask nicely I swear to ah—” Bucky cuts off your whiny gripe with one swift thrust, burying himself inside you until he fills you completely. “What was that?” his cheeky question does little to hide he’s just as overwhelmed with how good it feels as you are. Yet, with the cockiest grin, he drinks up your hazy expression as you adjust to his thickness.

“There you go. Doing so good for me, doll,” he praises you when he starts to feel your hips slowly move against him—pleasure replacing the ache. He reciprocates your desire, rocking into you slowly, letting you feel every inch until he goes as deep as possible once more—both of you calling out each other’s name by the time you’ve fully adjusted.

It’s like this at first—slow and deep—dragging out each thrust to savor the sensation of intimacy. Breathy kisses with exchanged whispers blend with one another, your hands wrapped around his shoulders to keep him close. Fingers gently tugging on his brown locks at the nape of his neck, which only serves to drive him crazier. Making it hard for him to keep his restraint in check.

“Been dying to have you, baby. Fuck, you feel incredible,” he groans out, continuing to bury himself deep into your welcoming heat. But it’s not enough—not for either of you. Not when it does little to help fully unleash all the pent-up hunger that has built up over the course of months. You feel it in the way Bucky grips your hips tight enough to leave bruises to ground himself, and he can feel it in the way your legs wrap around his hips and lock behind him—pushing him in impossibly deeper.

One of you is bound to break soon—and it won’t be you.

“Keep calling me baby and you’ll get everything you want, beautiful,” Bucky nips at your bottom lip—eyes darkening—turning his pretty blues into a storm. One that’s ready to consume you. He grips your hips harder, picking up his pace until he’s pounding into you with reckless abandon, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. You meet his powerful thrusts with equal fervor, a stream of curses and sobs of his name falling from your lips. The counter beneath you shakes and for a moment you’re worried he’s going to break it, but the worry washes away instantly as it feels too good to give a damn.

“Gonna keep marking you up, doll. Want everyone to see my pretty girl all marked up,” he growls, head dipping down to nip and suck on your neck. Bruising kisses strewn along the delicate skin of your collarbone until his teeth graze your shoulder. Your cunt throbs in time with the relentless onslaught of his cock—bodies synced in pure desire. Every touch, every thrust, every kiss, and every word is a brutal assault on your senses. All filled with his overwhelming want of you.

“Bucky, s-so good, please…” you plead breathlessly for who knows what. Mind fuzzy and gone, only focusing on the searing pleasure in your veins. Bucky lets out a deep chuckle, lips finding their way to yours, metal hand snaking to palm your breast while his other keeps a tight grip on your hips.“Atta girl—taking me so well,” he grunts out, cunt fluttering at his praise, causing him to let out a half moan half chuckle. You’re close to finishing and he can feel it.

“Cum for me, doll. Be a good girl and cum for me, baby,” Bucky commands, pounding into you with renewed vigor as he works to get you both to your releases. “Baby…I’m gonna…I’m close,” you whimper out and Bucky's response to you is immediate, his hips snapping forward even faster, harder. His metal hand lowers between your legs to apply pressure and circles to your clit. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the kitchen—the room forevermore ingrained with the actions of tonight.

Your body bows off the counter as you scream out his name, your orgasm crashing over you with a hot intensity. Bucky keeps you close and steady, your inner muscles clamping around him like a vice—triggering his climax. Bucky lets out a guttural growl of your name, biting down on your shoulder as his release pours out, burying himself to the hilt as he fills you. The intense contractions milking his shaft for all he’s worth.

You collapse back onto the counter, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath—body trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Bucky shudders from the force of his climax, cock twitching and pulsing as the last of his cum drips out. His upper body collapses on top of you, holding you close as his face buries into the crook of your neck, both of you trembling with the aftermath of your coupling. He trails loving kisses from your neck to your shoulder, not wanting to be apart from you.

“You did so good, doll—my doll,” he mutters into your shoulder, kissing the area he had previously bitten, nuzzling the marks he left. You can only muster a breathless whimper as he gradually pulls out of you, your combined arousal spreading along the inner skin of your thighs and down onto the counter. He raises his head just enough to admire his handiwork—you, flushed and disheveled, with multiple bite marks and hickeys proudly displayed across your skin.

"I could get used to this—seeing you like this," Bucky says with a satisfied smirk, his gaze roaming over your figure appreciatively. You let out a breathless laugh, “Yeah? I think I could too, baby…” You can feel the way his cock threatens to harden again, the look in his eyes warning you to not push it. He lowers his mouth onto yours again in a hopeless attempt to silence you.

“Doll, you can’t say it like that. I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

“What about the party, baby?”

That about does it for Bucky.

Happy Halloween to you.

#bucky barnes x reader smut #18+ ❤️‍🔥#bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x reader

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 7 days ago

Text

Heyy, this is me @marvelstoriesepic ♡

I am in love with this fic! Made me feel so many things. I can relate to her in so many situations and I love how you wrote Bucky 🥹

Let me dive a little deeper:

He struggled to find a way to express how he felt without overwhelming you, and one evening after a particularly unbearable overthinking session, he finally called Steve to confess how he felt about you and ask him for advice. Steve was delighted that Bucky had finally admitted his feelings and said - little acts of kindness.

Not him going to Steve and telling him about his feelings, hoping for advice 🤭

Bringing you hot tea, warm coffee, holding the door for you, reminding you to dress warmly, bringing an additional umbrella for you on rainy autumn days knowing how forgetful you can be, closing the window because you were in the cold draft, carrying heavy books for you, buying you cold medicine when you showed up sniffling and coughing.

Oh he's such a sweetheart!! I'm smitten 🥰

He tried to convey his feelings in a way you'd notice, but it seems that it wasn't that easy getting through to you. However, his feelings for you grew warmer with each day in this cold library, so much so that even the library didn't feel all that cold anymore whenever you were in his field of vision. Unbeknownst to him, you felt very much the same.

I love the way they make each other feel without being aware of it 💕

He paused for a second as if he was mulling over a thought, and then he took off the black hoodie he was wearing. Your face burned hotter than a furnace as the t-shirt beneath rose up, revealing his hips and the heavy muscles of his abdomen. He put the hoodie over your head and the closeness of his body to yours made you light-headed. “Come on, arms through the sleeves. There we go.”

This made me melt. I'm a puddle on the floor. Him guiding her through the sleeves 🥹

Bucky was unnerved by the interruption but he tried to hide it. Steve looked at the two of you raising his eyebrows with a knowing look, especially when he noticed you dressed in Bucky’s hoodie, and sent a pointed look your way that suspiciously meant ‘we’re so talking about this later.’

Love Steve's friendship and his role in this. Also, Bucky being unnerved by his interruption 🤭🙈

Bucky was jealous of the closeness Steve has with you, the light-hearted nature, the way you didn’t hesitate to hug him or touch him. He wanted that with you, he wanted to be the one your hands instinctively reach out to.

Oh sweet, sweet Bucky. Love his pining! 💛

You continued your hushed conversation while you recount what has happened, not noticing that someone has been listening to everything you've been talking about as you and Nat were not as silent as you thought you were.

How giddy I got when I read this, holy moly. Also love Nat in this 💞

But you didn't. You have feelings for him. And there's an additional something that made him smile even wider - you just called him Bucky for the first time since he met you.

Made me so happy! 🤩

He captured your lips over and over again, his tongue dancing with yours with each wet, warm press of his lips that drove you insane. You reciprocated every kiss and every touch, your hands digging into his shoulder blades in an attempt to alleviate the intensity you feel, while his hands moved agonisingly slow down your spine until he reached your lower back and pushed you impossibly close against his body.

Damn, he's really getting what he wants! Going all in. Love how all the suppressed feelings for each other pour into the kiss 🥵

It was too much, the kiss, his warm hands holding you; the affection he so freely offered but you were reluctant to accept, the insecurity of not being good enough for someone like him but being in love with him nonetheless - if all hit you like a wave.

Poor girl. I feel that. Having insecurities bubble up in a situation like that is so relatable.

Bucky watched in horror as your eyes filled with hot tears, one by one slipping down your cheeks in rapid succession. Kissing a man with ocean eyes seemed to have repercussions, as your own eyes were overflowing with salty ocean water. He was frozen in shock as you fell apart in front of him, and just as he was about to snap out of it and comfort you, you left his embrace and ran out of the library after gathering your things in haste, leaving Bucky stunned in silence amongst the empty shelves, the library feeling colder than ever.

Feel bad for both of them, but I love the way you wrote her so overwhelmed with what's happening. Makes things so real. Also, what a tensive way to end this. Makes me crave to know what will happen next. Hope they'll figure everything out!

I'm sorry for making this so long 😅

Thank you for the effort you put into this lovely fic! I'm so excited for the next part. Wish you the best!

Greetings and Kisses 💖

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

pairing: history major!bucky x librarian!reader

summary: a reserved librarian and a history-loving student keep crossing paths in the cold library, where shared smiles and hidden glances will make them understand that burning hearts don't do well in a place that easily ignites.

word count: 6.7k

warnings/themes: fluff/a bit of angst, making out, insecurities, no real warnings except for two silly humans falling in love

a/n: hello hello!! i have not written this much in years, and i'm both excited and anxious to share this with you. i'm rediscovering just how thrilling it is ✍︎ i'd like to send my love to @elixirfromthestars @whatever-lmaoo and @buck-star for being unimaginably kind, lovely, supportive and encouraging whenever i was doubting myself ♡ and to anyone reading this, thank you so much for giving my little story a chance. i am over the moon if you decide to grace it with your time ♡

note: this is part one ♡

The library was quiet at this time of day, students scattered around finishing their projects and essays or studying diligently for the upcoming exams. Spending time here was a source of comfort and a therapeutic refuge, which is why you were one of the first ones to hastily apply for this part-time position.

As most of your classes were in the mornings, and you usually spend your afternoons and evenings studying in the library, you thought you might as well use this chance to get some financial independence.

Besides, the college library was quite calm and uneventful, and as long as you finished your given tasks, the other librarians were okay with you studying during your shift. You unconditionally cherished this place, the enormous time capsule that hid you from the world, a place where you could be yourself.

The metaphorical warmth you felt for the library didn't help much when it got cold outside, as it wished to live in eternal spring and couldn't be properly warmed up. Regular students and staff already knew to dress as warmly as possible in layers and thick sweaters, some even opting to bring blankets.

The library was old, but very well looked after. The wooden chairs and sturdy desks were meticulously placed near the tall, gothic windows that provided the most beautiful atmosphere when letting the sunlight through. The bookshelves crafted out of deep dark oak and walnut wood, with beautiful wood carvings alongside their edges.

Your favourite were days with rain or snowfall, as they stained the library in a muted, sort of hazy light that looked magical when the warm lights had to be switched on. The enormous windows acted as moving paintings in those days.

The old wooden library door squealed in the deep silence of the study hall, announcing someone's arrival. Your eyes traveled towards the sound, a warm feeling washing over you immediately.

It's him. James Barnes. The history major prodigy with a sharp wit and gentle, old soul who is currently studying for his master's degree.

Despite his bookish academic personality, there was a part of him that was outgoing and a little wild. He loved being around his friends, and rarely declined an invitation for hang outs and parties. People like to be around him, as if they’re orbiting planets around the shining sun.

He was a presence to be reckoned with - with his soft dark hair, ocean eyes, a thickly built constitution that made him look effortlessly handsome in his well-fitted coats and cardigans; with the addition of a genuine, outgoing and caring personality, it made him someone people can very easily be infatuated with. The two of you moved in the same friend circles so it was not rare for you to see him around, especially when Nat and Steve pressured you to attend house parties with them. You'd be left feeling fatigued for days, having drained your already depleted social battery as you were reserved and introverted by nature.

What made it worthwhile was spending time with your friends which is why you usually gave in to their pleas, and what came as a surprise to you, stealing glances at one particular history genius.

Those subtle, unwavering glances didn't go unnoticed by Nat, who started paying a lot more attention to this newly perceived state of yours.

Your infatuation confused you, but it was nevertheless expected.

You saw him in the library almost everyday, and while you were not friends per se, you politely interacted with each other with small smiles and tiny nods whenever one of you arrived while the other was already there; uttering sweet thank yous when Bucky returned his books when they were due, or if you managed to find a book he was looking for. Those moments were precious and special, because you got to see a side of Bucky others did not.

Seeing him at parties, however, turned out to be bittersweet, as it was a recurring sight to witness him with a girl sitting in his lap with his arms around her, or having another girl's lips pressed to his. He was not a careless heart breaker as he was not the type to lead someone on, but he liked to have a bit of fun and blow off some steam in a harmless way.

It was such a contradiction to who he was when he studied diligently in the library's silence that you couldn't wrap your head around who Bucky genuinely was. But you wanted to know more, and he was a mystery you wanted unsolved, even if seeing him with someone else made your chest feel like it's caving in on itself; a deep, heavy heartache that left you with a sore feeling of emptiness that was left to fester.

Every time you saw him kiss and touch someone else, you felt the painful strain in your lower jaw as you held back hot, unshed tears, the fluttering feeling settling in your stomach but not of the good kind. These felt like wasps, stinging from within.

You had no reason or right to feel like this, as he isn't, and never will be, yours. There was no place for you in his solar system.

Bucky, however, has always treated you differently ever since he became acquainted with you, whether because his childhood friend Steve was best friends with you or because genuinely considered you a good friend himself. He was more reserved when interacting with you, distanced but gentle.

Now acutely aware of Bucky's presence, you watched him as he struggled to keep the doors open with his hands multitasking beyond reason - he somehow managed to carry his satchel, seemingly quite heavy as he was leaning to the other side to balance out the weight on his shoulder, black coat propped at the elbow, coffee and his phone in one hand with the dorm keys dangling from one of his fingers, and a stack of books in the other.

Trying to keep the door from closing with a crash, soft locks of hair fell on his forehead and over his eyes, obstructing his view. His hair was getting longer again, and to your infinite delight, he made no indications of getting a haircut any time soon. This was a recipe for imminent catastrophe, one which both of you would be more than happy to avoid.

You quickly stood up from your chair behind the library desk and approached him, reaching for the books. "I've got you, I can take these,” you whispered to him so you don't disturb the other students.

Bucky looked at you with gratefulness in his eyes, sighing a quiet sigh of relief. "You're a lifesaver, y/n,” he whispered back, offering you a smile.

You walked with him to his usual spot where he likes to study, just to the right of where you work, next to a big window that provides him with much-needed natural daylight.

“For you,” he stated, placing his things on the table and outstretching his hand holding the coffee towards you.

You were completely taken off guard and all you could do was utter a small ‘It’s what?’

“Got it for you. The coffee. You seemed pretty tired yesterday. That's why I was rushing here, so it doesn't get cold.”

The silence of the library was deafening, the air as thick as the autumn morning fog. While you had an abundance of kindness and empathy to give to others, you always had trouble accepting it when it was offered to you. On top of that, this was not just anyone.

This was James, and the thought of him noticing your tiredness and caring enough to bring you coffee today has your heart skip a few beats. You realised that you were silent for a while because Bucky was looking at you with an amused look, and you had to clear your mind just enough to answer him and not embarrass yourself by acting like a lovestruck silly fool.

“You really didn’t have to trouble yourself,” you uttered softly.

He kept the hand with which he held the coffee cup still outstretched towards you, nudging it a little bit as if saying that he had no intentions of taking no for an answer. “I didn’t, but I wanted to. Come on, have it while it’s warm. No take backs.”

You tentatively took the coffee from him, and your cold fingers brushed against his warm ones. Feeling the coldness of your hands made him glad that he risked a chaotic entrance just to get you a warm beverage.

“Thank you, James,” you looked at him with warmth which makes Bucky try to hide the lump in his throat as he nervously swallows.

The fluttering in his belly always emerged whenever you looked at him like that, sweetly, lovingly. Bucky smiled and feigned nonchalance so you wouldn't notice.

“No need for a thanks,” he smiled gently at you, warmth rushing into your face as he made direct eye contact.

“Sorry, I’m keeping you from work. And these,” he gestured towards a significant pile of books sitting on his desk, ”are unfortunately waiting for me.”

With a final glance and a reciprocated smile, you nodded and went back to your chair, feeling all kinds of feelings that felt too loud for this quiet room.

He looked at you while he took out his notes, smiling to himself when he saw you hug the hot coffee cup with your cold fingers in hopes of warming them up.

After a long study session, during which night had already fallen and soft yellow glow bathed the library's dark wooden shelves in golden lights, Bucky started packing his things and getting ready to leave. The library had mostly emptied out by now. He walked towards you, confusion etched in his face.

“You’re not leaving?”

“Yeah, not yet,” you sighed. “There was a new shipment of literature workbooks that I need to file on the computer by tomorrow, and it’s going to take a while. I should be done in an hour or so.”

Bucky glanced outside, noting how dark it was, the thought of you walking alone making him feel uneasy. “Do you want me to stay with you? I can walk you home when you're done.”

His offer excited you the moment it left his lips but you didn’t want him to waste his time waiting for you. With a heavy heart, as your inside voice scolded you for being nonsensical, you declined spending time with the guy you’ve been daydreaming about every waking moment.

“No need, you were here for hours. You should go and rest. Nat will be coming by in about half an hour so we'll walk back together.”

Bucky hesitated for a brief moment, not sure if you said that just so he wouldn't stay, or if Nat was really coming by. He eventually decided not to push, and hummed in agreement. “Okay, sure. Be careful on your way back, yeah?”

“I will James, you too.”

He nodded and walked towards the entrance door. Hesitating with his hand on the handle, he turned around, and coughed awkwardly to get your attention.

You looked up, and his blue eyes caught yours. “Did you fix the extra heater you told me broke last week? The one you and the librarians use behind the desk.”

“No, not yet,” you stated with slight disappointment.

“Well, um- it's getting cold in here. Especially this late. Don't forget to bring an extra sweater tomorrow.”

He paused for a brief moment. “And just so you know,” he continued, ”I wouldn't have minded staying with you.”

He nervously scratched the nape of his neck and without waiting for your answer, opened the door and left, leaving you with a flustered look on your face staring at the spot he was just standing at.

On one particularly miserable day, you burst into the library in a rush, as you finally slowed down your pace and strugglde to get your hectic breathing in order. Long breath in, long breath out. This whole day started as if you wore a big sign over your head saying “Do your worst, universe!”

First you overslept, jumping from the bed like you were struck by lightning, and barely arrived 5 minutes late to your first lecture. In your haste you realised you forgot to pack your lunch, and your mood’s been completely upside down since you had no time to have your morning coffee.

As fate would have it, it was the coldest day so far and the freezing air was biting your skin almost out of spite as you walked towards the library, just having finished your last class.

The campus was coloured in beautiful autumnal shades of rust and crimson and mustard yellow, a slight burning smell hanging in the air from the neighborhood’s ignited fireplaces keeping everyone warm in their homes.

The library was colder than it was yesterday, and you stopped in your tracks realising you forgot an extra sweater in your rush to leave your dorm room. Today simply decided to be against you and you sigh in defeat, not looking forward to being cold in the most comforting place you could think of.

Bucky was already at his usual spot, his gaze following you as you were getting ready to start your work. You didn't offer him your usual wave and smile upon arrival, which he found unusual. He wanted to get up and talk to you, but something in your countenance told him you weren’t in the mood for a conversation at the moment.

Something felt off with you, and he decided to let you wind down a little first, fearing he’ll just make it worse. Little did he know he was one of very few people whose comfort you would never turn down.

He’s surprised when he realised how in tune he was with your feelings and body language, how much he could read the look in your eyes, the barely noticeable downturn of your lips and frown of your eyebrows, the way your shoulders were sloped down.

Bucky doesn’t remember when he started feeling this way about you - perhaps it was the way you smiled at him when Steve introduced the two of you, saying how important it was for him for his two best friends to know each other.

Or when he saw you placing books on the bookshelf in the library, humming a song from his favourite band.

Perhaps it was when your friend group went to the cinema to watch a horror movie and you reached for his hand as a reflex and held it tightly when a scary scene was playing out on the screen.

Or it could have been that one time he found you crying in front of your classroom having failed an exam you spent many all nighters studying for, and stayed with you hoping his presence would soothe you. He silently sat next to you with your head propped against his shoulder until your breathing calmed down, after which he took you to a café nearby for hot tea where you stayed and talked about everything and anything for hours.

There was something captivating about you, but Bucky noticed you were reserved and shy, at times a little anxious, and someone who’s not particularly enjoying being the centre of attention.

Express it without making it straightforward. You should feel it in the gestures if he offers them with genuine kindness. Make her feel safe and comfortable with you, Steve said. And that’s exactly what Bucky started doing.

He noticed you shivering, your hands going up and down your arms to create some warmth. You’re in a thinner sweater and he assumed that you must have forgotten to bring an extra layer of clothing.

Taking his maroon cardigan off, he pulled out his chair and made his way towards you. Your eyes were tired and misty, but when you saw him in front of you the world seemed to shift back to balance.

Bucky's height was obstructing your view, and you found that him shielding you from the outside world felt comforting.

“I'll be here for another hour, and then I thought I might go to our café for hot chocolate and raspberry muffins. I think I'll be bored without any company.”

He placed the cardigan in your hands, and walked back to his desk. You smiled for the first time that day, sending an inaudible “I'm in” his way. The oversized cardigan smelled like him, still heated by his body warmth.

You snuggled into it and for the first time in a long time, a person started to feel like home.

You walked down the street towards Steve's dorm, the sun slowly setting behind rust-coloured roofs. Dry leaves of every kind of earthy hue are swirling around you as if asked by the air for a dance.

They were crunching beneath your feet, having been scattered around the pavement on the wings of a chilly wind, as the daylight was slowly ending to make way for a starry night and visible warm breaths in the air. You wished you could savour this walk a bit longer, but the weather was growing increasingly colder.

You were aware that you should speed up your pace if you wanted to make it to Steve's before dark because you were only in a thin sweater, but this walk turned out to be a peaceful refuge of silence amongst the autumn trees. Your path eventually led you to a small park filled with other students talking and hanging out, most of them packing up to go warm themselves up in the nearby cafés.

You entered the dorm without anyone paying you attention and made your way up. The hall was barely illuminated but you already knew the way by heart as you've visited Steve a thousand times by now - 3rd floor, three sets of stairs and 25 steps each, the door with newly oiled hinges and someone's initials carved in the upper right corner. You knocked and waited a few moments, noticing soft footsteps approaching from the other side of the door, followed by a sound of keys jingling.

A set of crystal blue eyes landed on yours as the door opened, slightly widening as if he was expecting anyone but you. Another thing the universe has plotted for you, or against you - Steve's recently new roommate is none other than Bucky Barnes.

"Oh, James- um, hello,” you said with a soft tone, cheeks dusted with an embarrassing blush. You face-palmed internally at your inability to react normally and not embarrass yourself at least once. Jesus y/n, way to go.

Bucky wasn’t expecting you, but he hid his surprise way better than you. "Y/n, hey! And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Bucky?"

"At least once more as always, James."

He sighed, admitting defeat for the moment. It was something he secretly wished for; for you to call him by the nickname all of his best friends use. He wanted to be closer to you, and calling him by his name felt like an arms length between you. What Bucky doesn't know is that you considered it closeness to call him by his real name, and you simply love saying 'James'. It is timeless, gentle. Every vowel and consonant felt soft on your lips.

Bucky's voice brought you back from your reverie. "So… are you coming to the pub with us or are you here in revenge because I completely forgot to return ”The Global History of World War II”? It's kinda long overdue,” he says with a sheepish grin.

"Yes, Bucky, that is my favorite pastime when I’m outside of the library," you chuckled light-heartedly, basking in the feeling that he’s comfortable enough around you to be playful and at ease. "Full time student, part-time librarian, book vigilante out of campus for good measure,” you teased, elated when you see that it brought a smile to James' face.

"But now that we're on the topic, you don't have to worry about that. Steve told me that you've been really busy with a big history project for your modern world history class because I noticed you weren't coming by the library, so I took the liberty of extending the loan on your book for you."

"Wow, pays off having an inside connection at the college library, that's for sure." Despite his playful demeanour, Bucky's features softened into a genuine, grateful smile. "Thank you, y/n.”

There was softness in his gaze that was disarming. He often looked at you like that, as if you were something precious and endearing, but you never allowed yourself to think that he might be feeling anything other than friendly affection for you.

At times it made you wonder if there’s something more he was hinting at, but perhaps you’re just projecting your own feelings where they did not exist. You've never felt like this strongly about anyone, and it's evident that you’re reluctant to allow yourself to have hope because his rejection would be a sting you weren't ready to experience.

"Nothing to thank me for, really. I know how much that class means to you."

"By the way - you asked Steve about me?"

"I, well - I mean -uh. I did,” you stuttered your words and Bucky thought you were the prettiest thing he's ever. He noticed that you were flustered around him before, and he definitely stored that information in a special corner of his mind.

"You're punctual with your library visits, that'all. And I'm used to seeing you there, so of course I noticed you weren't coming as usual. Just wanted to check if everything is okay. It was actually kind of lonely without you around," the words slipped out before you even had the chance to stop yourself.

Bucky's heartbeat increased hearing you say that. You were lonely without him.

"Well then, I'll have to make sure to come by more frequently and I'll definitely let you know about future absences. Wouldn't want to worry my favourite librarian now, would I?" Bucky said, gently tapping your nose with his index finger and reveling in watching you try to compose your flustered gaze and widened eyes. "You-" a breathy laugh passed your lips, "are incorrigible."

Bucky found you absolutely adorable. He noticed the way you act around him. He's felt your stolen glances in the library. You've never admitted it though, and Bucky is left to speculate. He burns with the desire to ask you how you feel, but he fears pushing you away just as you were getting closer.

“Oh my god, I can't believe I'm making you stand in the doorway, come in.” He moved aside, motioning with his outstretched hand for you to enter. “Steve is in the shower, his football practice was longer than he thought.”

You stood awkwardly, playing nervously with your hands. It’s strange how Bucky made you both comforted and nervous at the same time. “That's okay, I'll just wait in his room. We can go when he's done.”

Bucky hummed in agreement, his eyes analysing your figure and motioning to the thin sweater you wore. “Y/n, is that all you brought? It must be cold outside.”

“Yeah, well, you know me. It was nice outside when I left the dorm this noon and I didn't plan ahead. Actually, the wind was kinda freezing to be honest,” you shrugged as Bucky gave you a disapproving look, as he always did when you failed to look after yourself.

The hoodie was warm, like everything else he wore. If you glimpsed inside his soul you might even find that his whole being is fuelled by the sun.

He delicately took your hair out from the inside of the hoodie and tucked the stray pieces behind your ears, letting his touch linger before retracting his hand, gliding a finger along your jaw. It felt like traces of fire were left where his fingers had touched you.

“You keep giving me your clothes.”

”And you keep forgetting yours. Maybe you're doing this on purpose,” he said quietly.

I'm not but I might start doing so, the little voice inside your mind spoke against your better judgment. You looked at each other for another moment before the door opened abruptly and Steve came out followed by steam coming out of the bathroom.

Bucky moved out of the way while Steve hurried towards and tackled you into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you so much! I need to get you out of that library more often. You’re seeing Bucky more than you’re seeing me.” He pouted and you rolled your eyes, squishing his cheeks.

“How can a six-foot something human act like such a baby,” you teased. “I’ve missed you too. Now go get dressed, go!” You gently pushed him towards his room. “Nat and Sam are waiting for us.”

You took your phone to send a message to Nat that you’ll be arriving soon, completely oblivious of Bucky’s inner turmoil of feelings caused by seeing you and Steve interact so naturally. He wasn’t jealous of his childhood friend, he knew Steve’s heart like his own and there was not one tiny seed of thought that Steve harboured romantic feelings towards you or that he would hurt Bucky in such a way.

The feelings that were brewing are irrational, he knew this. He also knew that he was slowly snapping at the edges, stitch by stitch, and if he didn’t confess to you soon, the feelings pulsating like a dying star would go full on supernova.

"There she issssss, finally, finally!" Nat hurried towards you, hands outstretched expecting a hug that you gladly offered.

"You're late. You guys are late. Late for a group get-together, y/n! Was your nose stuck in a book again? Is the library holding you hostage?" She teased, as her voice held nothing but giddiness. Nat’s genuinely happy to finally see you out and about.

"And my nose would still be there if you didn't drag me all the way here,” you repled to her, a playful smile on your lips. It's been forever since the last group hangout, and you sorely missed them.

"Steve was running late so we waited for him, Nat. We didn't mean for you guys to wait- hang on, where Sam?" You looked around the bar, but you didn't see him.

“Said he's rain checking, sudden emergency but nothing serious. He might be joining us later.” You nodded, a little bummed because you haven't seen him in a while and he was always good company to have around.

Nat scaned you up and down, trying to be unobtrusive about it so she doesn't make you uncomfortable or give you a chance to hide something from her. She’s been worried about you lately because you were pulling all-nighters often, going to classes, working part-time in the library.

Not to mention venting to her at 3am when you should be asleep how you think you're falling in love with Bucky and how frightened you were about it.

She was expecting you to shut down from exhaustion at any moment. However, she's glad to see you in a better shape than she expected. Even with your slightly dark circles indicating lack of sleep, you seemed somehow lighter, happier.

After a few drinks and a laughing fit about a story Steve recounted from his and Bucky's childhood that made James flush in embarrassment, Nat sighed and placeed her hand on your forearm.

"Is that yours?" she said, feeling the material of your oversized black hoodie between her fingers. "I don't recall you having this, did you get it when we were at the mall last week?"

You were checking your class schedule on your phone and replied absent-mindedly, not even registering what your words would make Nat think. "It's not mine, it's Bucky's. He let m- ouch! Nat! What was that for?" Her eyes are slightly opened in shock, her fingers pinching you hard where she was touching the hoodie earlier.

The devilish grin appearing on her face made you regret saying anything to her in the first place. She will never let you hear the end of this. "You sly little- Bucky's? Is there something you're not telling me? I can't believe you kept this information to yourself. Tell me everything, and tell me now."

She gave you a pointed look you knew all too well when she saw the hesitation on your face. "Babe, you know I will find a way to find out. Please don't make me grind my ass for answers on why my best friend is wearing the hoodie of the man she's secretly pining for."

Bucky sat with a love-sick grin plastered on his face, while Steve's knowing expression revealed a sense of relief because he was so damn tired of watching his two friends pining for each other and doing nothing about it.

Bucky's thoughts were going a thousand miles a minute. You were pining for him. He was right. I mean, you didn't even negate what Nat said. That must mean something, right? Silence could be interpreted as agreeing, especially knowing how guarded you were and would have defended yourself on the spot.

But you didn't. You have feelings for him. And there's an additional something that made him smile even wider - you just called him Bucky for the first time since he met you.

“Hey.” Bucky felt your hand on his shoulder, interrupting him in the middle of reading a paragraph. He turned his head to look up at you, your face apologetic.

“Hey.” He circled around in his chair to give you full attention, which was all you needed to push away your guilt for interrupting his studying.

“You wanna go to the history section with me? I think I found the book you asked for last week, the one about the most influential battles of the twentieth century? We could look for it together. Plus you've been sitting slouched for hours too, you need to stretch your legs.” Bucky’s heart soared at the invitation and your concern over his well-being, and he nodded in silent agreement while hastily bookmarking the page in his textbook.

You walked to the back of the library, searching the number of the bookshelf you saw written on your computer. “Section 1…..2….ah here, we go.”

You approached the shelf marked as 3. You felt him hovering near you in silence, and you felt the very atoms in the air vibrate with his presence. You were acutely aware of his every step. Your soft footsteps were muffled by the carpet as you finally spotted the book, high up and just out of your reach. Lifting yourself up on the tips of your toes, you reached as high as your hand allows you and all you managed was to brush the spine of the book with your fingertips.

Without warning, you suddenly felt his chest flush against your back as he stood behind you and reached over your fingers to take the book from the shelf. His fingers ghosted over yours for a moment, and you whipped your head around, completely flustered by his actions. By the time you noticed how close you were, it was already too late as you sensed his hot breath mixing with yours. He towered over you, deep in thought and with a look in his eyes that had the appearance of a brewing storm, the book long forgotten.

Both of you stood stunned, gazes fixed into each other's eyes. You couldn’t stop thinking of how Bucky's irises you once thought were like the summer sky suddenly appeared green. The dying sunlight casted its rays through the windows straight into his eyes, and it suddenly made sense how the sunny yellow mixed with his blues gave a beautiful green. Bucky broke the trance you were caught in when he placed his left index finger under your chin to make you look up at him, while his other hand slowly inched closer to your face, brushing your cheek with a gentle, feathery touch.

"Eyelash." The low baritone of his voice in this close proximity made your blood rush straight to your cheeks and in between your legs. Wait, what? Did you just- ? You have always reacted to him innocently, with butterflies in your stomach and a warm blush on your cheeks, but it was never this physical before.

Not like you haven't thought about it, but it was just harmless daydreaming and to get this reaction out of you by simply touching you in innocent places bewildered you. The intensity of the moment catches you off guard, nervousness gradually setting in but something keeps you firmly in place. He glanced at your lips as his breathing got deeper and laboured, like the air he was breathing had become as thick as honey. He deeply inhaled once, and exhaled shakily, as if he was fighting an internal battle. His control was hanging by a thread which snapped the moment he saw your eyes look down at his lips while you slightly parted yours.

In a moment of complete lack of self-control, he dived and captured your lips in eagerness as you immediately reciprocated the kiss, the two of you acting like magnets unable to fight the pulling force for connection. None of you knew who actually initiated the kiss but the sense of shock lasted but a second, and your body took over as you placed your hands at the nape of his neck, fingers lost in his silky, dark locks of hair.

Bucky's lips were soft, softer than you expected, and he was kissing you both delicately and with the fervour of someone who has waited a lifetime to do this. Bucky cradled your head with both of his hands, tilting it upwards to get better access to your lips, his heart wishing to turn this into something more heated but his brain holding him back so in fear of scaring you away.

The gratification you both felt of getting to act upon the pent up desires and bottled up feelings was beyond words, and it brought about a new wave of emotions that burned from within. Bucky gently licked your bottom lip, and his blood sang in his veins when you softly moaned, accelerating his heartbeat.

You placed your fingers over his lips so both of you could catch a breath as your lungs screamed for air. Bucky pressed his forehead to yours, lips swollen as your faces radiated a pleasant warmth. Bucky gave you a chaste, sweet kiss just as a sudden slam of the library door sounds off and it harshly brought you back to Earth.

The air was filled with uneven breaths as you broke the kiss, your gazes still locked on the swollen lips of the other. Reality came crashing down on you, like icy cold water poured straight onto your head as you’re cruelly snapped back to present.

What has just happened? You weren't even thinking. How could you when all reason went to hell when his lips as soft as petals were just attached to yours? But now that your mind was clearing up, your insecurities rushed all at once in a fight of which one is going to prevail and ruin this for you.

You couldn’t believe you just did that. Oh my god.

Oh my god, oh my god. There was no way in hell that he liked you like that. Maybe he just wanted to kiss, and you were conveniently there. From what you recall, he kissed you first. Or did he? God, you couldn’t recall a thing. You couldn't even trust your thoughts at the moment. James Barnes kissing you first was an insane thought, even for you. Daydreaming about it was one thing, but it actually happening?

No way in hell. You were out of his league, and he deserved someone as outgoing, beautiful and confident as he is. The whole ordeal was foggy to your overreacting mind, still under the influence of his lips. But James is kinder than that. He’d never be so cruel as to lead you on, his actions up until now resonated only with kindness and respect.

You guessed you must have kissed him first as that was the only thought you had when he had you pressed against the bookshelf. He probably didn't reject you because he didn't want to hurt your feelings. That had to be it, right?

Nothing made sense to you anymore, and each new thought contradicted the previous one. Insecurities fought against rationality. That was definitely no ordinary kiss, but you're so overwhelmed that you couldn't even think straight, heart rapidly pounding in your chest.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Bucky's voice was low, rich with warmth and worry, looking down at you as if your internal turmoil is etched on your face.

“I- I'm-”you tried speaking but not one coherent word came out of you as your mind drew a complete blank.

#this is soooo good!!#love pirates of the caribbean but couldn't find the reference unfortunately #makes me feel bad #still #i loved this #crave to read more #love the sweetness that is Bucky Barnes!! ♡#thank you!!#best wishes and greetings from marvelstoriesepic ♡

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 11 days ago

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Hell, he's so perfect!! 🤩

“Thanks Buck, you look great too.” Bucky mumbled a thank you, started to blush and looked away. Then you reached for his hand and Bucky looked at you with a smile.

He literally planned the perfect date but still got shy and flustered at a simple compliment 🥹

“Wow, you really remembered.” You remembered the day you told him that you would love to take a hot air ballon ride one day. It was in the middle of the night when you ran into Bucky’s room because you heard him having a nightmare. You comforted him and after a while you talked about things you both want to do one day. And a hot air ballon ride was one of the things you said to Bucky that night.

How he remembered 🥹 Love a man who listens!

“I even learned to fly it, so it’s just us and no one else.”

This did me in so bad. Just wow. He learned to fly himself so they can enjoy their time alone. Help me find a man like that 🙏🥵

Great work! I loved this sweetness! ❤️

(This is @marvelstoriesepic btw 🙈)

Date In The Air

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky takes you on a special first date.

Word Count: 900

Request: I have a request for your 1K Celebration with Bucky Barnes and the prompt “Wow, you look so beautiful.” Bucky and the reader go on their first date and the rest is up to you. [See request here]

Prompt 6: “Wow, you look so beautiful.”

A/N: Thank you for sending me this request. I hope you like it!!💗

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

It’s been three weeks since you and Bucky finally confessed your love for each other. You’ve had feelings for each other for so long, but at first you were too stubborn to realize how much you love each other until one special day.

Since Bucky was needed on a mission, you haven’t had a first date yet, but that’s going to change today. You were so excited to go on your first date with Bucky and see what he was up to. But you were also nervous because Bucky didn’t tell you where you were going, he only told you to wear something comfortable and that he would pick you up from your room at the compound at two o’clock. You wondered why he was making such a secret about where you were going. Every time you asked him about the date, he said it would be a surprise. You were so excited but also nervous about what he might have planned. After thinking for a long time about what to wear, you decided to wear your favorite dress. To complete your outfit, you chose your favorite necklace and a small bag. As you looked in the mirror to check if you were ready and looked beautiful, you heard a knock on your door. You took your bag with your phone and walked to your door. Before opening it, you took a deep breath and then opened it. When you opened the door, you saw Bucky standing there and his smile started to grow when he saw you in that dress.

“Hey doll.” Bucky said with a big smile.

“Hey, Buck.” You smiled at him.

“Wow, you look so beautiful.” Bucky suddenly said, making you smile.

“Thanks Buck, you look great too.” Bucky mumbled a thank you, started to blush and looked away. Then you reached for his hand and Bucky looked at you with a smile.

“Are you ready for our date?” Bucky asked and you nodded.

“Sure, let’s go.” You smiled at Bucky and walked out of the compound while holding his hand. You walked past Steve and Natasha in the hallway and they both smiled at you. When you were in front of Bucky’s car, he opened the door for you and you sat down. In the car, Bucky gave you a gentle kiss on the back of your hand, then started a playlist of your favorite music and drove away. After a while you got nervous, and Bucky gently placed his hand on your thigh.

“You don’t have to be nervous, doll. Trust me, you’ll love it.” Bucky said as you looked at him.

“Okay, I trust you.” Bucky lifted your hand and gave you a kiss on the back of it.

“We’re almost there.” Bucky said after driving for a while. When you looked around you could only see a lot of trees. Bucky got out of the car and opened the door for you.

“Bucky what?” You were so curious about what you were going to do that it had to remain a secret.

“You’ll love it.” He said again and kissed you softly. You walked through the park, holding hands and looking at the beautiful nature. After a while you ended up at a large green gras area. When you looked around you could see a hot air balloon. You looked over at Bucky with a big smile.

“Of course I did, I started planning right away.” Bucky said, making you smile. You’re so lucky to have Bucky.

“I even learned to fly it, so it’s just us and no one else.”

“Oh Bucky, this is so-”

“Romantic.” He guessed.

“Yeah, it really is.” You said with a big smile.

“Good, because that’s what I hoped.”

“What are we waiting for? Let’s get airborne.” You said and he chuckled. You ran to the hot air balloon and Bucky helped you get into it. After a few minutes you were in the air and it looked so beautiful. You looked around and saw a beautiful nature and then you looked at your beautiful boyfriend. You can’t believe he took a flying course so you could take a hot air balloon ride. He must have been planning this for a long time.

“Wow, Bucky, it’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah, it really is.” Bucky said and you took a step closer to him. You hugged him and he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead.

You were flying around for a while until Bucky landed the hot air ballon in the same place you flew away from. After Bucky landed the ballon, he quickly went to his car to grab the picnic basket he had in his car. You had a beautiful day and the perfect first date with Bucky that you could ever imagine.

Taglist:

#james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 12 days ago

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Oh hell, how I've missed him!! Love how you described his way of thinking. And the part with Rebecca is so lovely! I'm glad he still has her, and that she's there to help him see things differently.

Thank you for sharing, I really enjoyed this!! 💚

❤️ a good time!

tat!bucky’s favorite (or least favorite) thing about twelve

… why not both?

cause and effect

chapter summary: How Bucky fell in love with Twelve: Slowly, and then all at once.

pairing: bucky barnes x time witch!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: light angst and negative self talk (this is bucky y'all); some light pining 🤭please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: i've literally had this one in my drafts for about two years and i hadn't actually planned on posting it for a while yet but i did promise distractions. and i missed him. i always do.

this is part of the time after time universe but can be read as a teaser and/or a standalone 💚

Bucky’s relationship with time has been fractured ever since a cold day in January that stole away the life he was headed towards and turned him into the monster underneath a child’s bed.

It’s hard to feel good about the concept of time travel once a lot of your own time has been taken away from you. Even now, there’s only so many things in his life he has control over; like the fact that he’s actively choosing to go back to therapy now, or that he’s able to keep a pet for the first time since he was thirteen years old. Stupid little things, like what kind of food he wants for lunch or whether he should take the stairs or the elevator.

Every single one of these things he’s fought for tooth and nail, clawing his way out of the past and carving out his own space in reality again, struggling, trying, hanging on like he wasn’t able to all those decades ago.

He’s probably still failing.

Some days, clinging to the present is tense and brings him nothing but grief. Sometimes, it feels like he’s going to have to mourn the past forever, whatever might have been; and maybe that’s his sentence.

He wouldn’t have wished it on anyone. He deserves worse.

And then there’s you.

Flickering in and out of time, constantly moving, changing in the time it takes him to blink.

It’s infuriating to him, the way you get to use your powers. The way you don’t need to think about consequences, because they don’t have to be permanent, don’t have to be something you need to live with for the rest of your life. To you, time has always been something that can be changed with a single snap of your fingers. Whatever you do can just as easily be undone.

Once you decide you’ve seen enough, you can just take the scene from the top.

And you’re so stubborn.

You’ve already seen how this goes on if you let it, and so you’re always right, end of story. There’s an ease to your steps because of it, a nonchalance in every movement, and it makes Bucky’s blood boil to see it so plainly.

With all the good that you could do, you choose to do nothing instead; to stay out of the picture entirely and burn through your powers just because you can, wasting them all on things that don’t mean anything.

How many lives could you potentially save?

Instead, you consume disturbing amounts of caffeine and then continue to provide running commentary to the world around you based on things that, to him, never happen at all. "Do this", "don’t do that", "take the other one", or, his absolute favorite, "don’t make me fix that".

Why not? he wants to ask, say, demand. Why not fix all of it?

It takes a while for him to realize that all of your fire means you’re burning from both ends. In fact, it takes Becca.

"You should bring her by sometime," she tells him on a rainy afternoon. "While I’m still alive and kicking."

His little sister just turned ninety-eight. Her kitchen sideboard is filled with black-and-white pictures reminding him of all the things in her life that he missed, arranged in perfect little wooden frames.

"And why would I do that?" Bucky asks, scowling at his cards.

"Because you keep mentioning her," Rebecca says dryly and whisks the cards onto her pile with quick fingers.

"You gotta be kidding me," he groans, noting down her points. "And I don’t."

"Do, too. I don’t remember you being this terrible at this game."

"Because I haven’t caught you when you’re cheating."

"Exactly. It’s embarrassing." She wins the next trick, too. "How’s Tuesday?"

"Am I clairvoyant now?"

"I was thinking lunch."

"No." Finally, he gets a couple of points down. When he glances up at his sister again, she’s looking at him expectantly and he sighs. "What?"

"You can’t fault me for being curious," she says. She has just as many opinions as she did when she was sixteen. Her eyes are still the same, too, the same shade of blue as his and the same glimmer of archness as their mother.

"Don’t you think it’s weird?" Bucky says, finally giving in. "The whole … time thing?"

"I think it’s very weird, but so’s you returning from the dead and kvetching about it." Her eyes narrow when he starts to protest. His mouth closes again. "Besides," she continues, shuffling her hand around, "it doesn’t sound all that fun."

"To have the power to never make mistakes?"

"To have to live through every mistake twice without anyone knowing."

Something about her words strikes him like a match, and so he tilts his head and squints at her and thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s got it wrong.

That you carry not only your past, but all the futures you’ve seen that never came to be; all the what ifs having turned into answers.

And he thinks, how nice. And then he thinks, how horrifying.

It’s a thought that follows him over the next couple of weeks, and it starts reframing your interactions for him, in a way.

"Will you stop staring at me," you say without looking up from your book.

Honestly, he can’t. He’s still trying to pick up on it, the split second between before and after, that little change of your posture, your hair, your face, that tells him more time has passed for you than it has for him.

It’s more of a feeling than anything else, something right at the back of his mind telling him that something is different if he concentrates on it enough, but he’s never sure what it is. And he doesn’t like that; not one bit.

So Bucky crosses his arms and leans back. "Why?"

A flash of irritation makes your nose twitch, even though you still refuse to meet his eye.

"It’s rude, for one."

"Noted." He waits for the two that never comes. "Anything else?"

And there it is. A blink-and-you-miss-it kind of moment, like the air shifting around you ever so slightly, a certain knowing glint in your eyes when you roll them and get up.

"Annoying!"

He can’t help it. He wonders what your original answer was.

***

Bucky’s relationship with time changes slowly, the deepest cuts carefully mending themselves until looking back doesn’t feel like getting his bones ripped apart anymore, until he looks at you on a cold day in January and realizes he’s fucked.

At first, he hopes that it might be a fluke. A trick of the light, maybe, or seasonal allergies. That’s the reason why his eyes are drawn to your face as soon as he enters a room; the closest source of discomfort always the thing he seeks out first. That’s the reason why his chest constricts like that.

But the truth is, he knows this feeling has been building slowly; he’s just been unwilling to admit it.

Something soft and delicate has started to nestle in that gaping hole inside his chest, unbothered by the walls he’s so carefully built up.

He’d never planned on you.

Fuck, if he’d known in the beginning, he might’ve …

No, he thinks. He wouldn’t have changed anything.

Because you’re too good for him, anyway, and he knows it. Smart and strong and funny and gorgeous and capable of things he’s not sure he’ll ever fully comprehend; and it’s worse than that, because he knows you now.

You’re grouchy in the mornings and you make terrible jokes when you’re nervous and you have a strange feud with his cat and your smile makes him want to put his fist through the wall because what is he supposed to do with any of this?

He’s not made for this dance anymore. That part was taken from him so long ago, and he’s delusional to think that anything or anyone could return it to him after all the bridges he’d been made to cross and burn. Why would someone like him deserve to be given tenderness anymore in this life? Why would anyone want to try?

But that foolish thing blooming inside him feels a lot like hope, despite of what he keeps telling himself.

There’s just something about you that keeps pulling him in, and honestly, he’s tired of fighting it. Then again, the thought of you feeling the same is nothing short of ridiculous.

He’s not the same guy as he used to be. Hell, sometimes he’ll look at old photographs and barely recognize himself.

He remembers life before, and maybe that’s what makes this so hard. He remembers talking to pretty girls, their bright smiles, their soft skin underneath his hands. Good times were easy to come by, even though life was hard in a different way, then. But he was good at it; acting on his feelings alone used to be simple, fun, second-nature almost.

It’s different now.

It used to be different only once before, and look where that’s gotten him.

No, he can’t say anything. Not ever; or not yet, at any rate.

Sometimes, though, Bucky lies awake at night and listens to the rain knocking against his window, and he remembers how much easier falling asleep used to be when he had someone next to him and his mattress didn’t swallow him alive.

He’ll remember the dark circles under your eyes and wish it could be as easy as asking, too. He wonders if there’s a universe you remember where he tries, but he doubts it.

These days, he knows his mind again. And it’s not a burden he wants to share.

You have enough to carry on your own.

Maybe, he thinks as he stares up at the ceiling at three in the morning, maybe there’s still a certain comfort in your powers, in knowing all the possibilities, but it also means constantly losing something that’s real; always mourning the life that isn’t.

He can relate to that.

And maybe that means you can relate to him, too, at least a little bit.

It’s odd, how comforting that last little thought is to him.

When he does eventually fall asleep, you make your way into his dreams, too, sometimes. Those times are the worst.

You’re you, and he’s him, and there’s a sort of "us" in the both of you that doesn’t exist in real life. So when you let him lace his fingers with yours and press your lips to his forehead and it feels easy, that’s usually the point when he wakes up, heart tumbling over itself, right hand tracing the ghost of your touch, always too much, never enough.

He knows it’s not real.

He knows it’s just an indulgence; selfish, really.

The problem is that whatever small hope has decided to settle in his very core is impossible to kill, no matter how much he pushes it down; and he’s not sure he wants to lose it again.

Secretly, silently, serendipitously, you make him have faith in the future again.

But it’s not time for it yet.

if you want to read more about these two (plus a lot of time related shenanigans), read the main series here. or check out the rest of my bucky fics, that's also an option 💚 i don't do tag lists but you can follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications

#time zone reblog #time after time #bucky barnes x reader

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 15 days ago

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Love the tension! And the way he came to pick her up without hesitaton 🥹🤩

And then him on the bike? Feel it getting hot, damn. Thank you!! 💞

Confrontation

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: minor angst, sexual frustration and tension

Summary: You and Bucky don’t get along. Your best friend is dating his best friend, so you try to be civil. He just makes it so damn difficult to be nice to. When you go to a party and get stranded there, you ask your best friend to come get you but get someone else instead. You’re forced to confront your feelings.

Squares Filled: "it isn't real" (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

“Does he have to come over? I really don’t want to deal with him. I thought tonight was supposed to be a girl’s night.”

“We were, but he just got back into town, and I haven’t seen him for weeks.”

You huff out in annoyance. Not at her but at the situation. Her boyfriend is a sweet guy and treats her like she’s the only woman in the world. It’s his best friend that gets on your nerves. If you were her, you’d totally ditch girl’s night to hang with your boyfriend… if you had one.

“Yeah, I guess. Does Bucky have to come?”

“He’s his best friend. It’s like me without you.”

It should be illegal just how much Bucky gets under your skin. It’s like he knows and is doing it on purpose. He’s the definition of a playboy and it pisses you off. There isn’t a time that goes by that he doesn’t have a woman on his arm, on his lap, or in his bed. When he’s not fucking random girls, he’s always getting into fights that he usually starts. He does illegal shit on his bike all the time. You don’t know how many times you heard Steve say he had to bail Bucky out of jail.

He’s a menace and he’s fucking attractive. It pisses you off.

“Can you two just get along, please? I love you and I love him. I don’t want to lose either of you.”

“Fine,” you grumble.

Steve and Bucky show up an hour later, and it’s not surprising that Bucky brought a woman with him.

“Steve! You’re back!”

Jessica jumps into his arms and kisses him, and you look away from them knowing Bucky is looking for you. You slip into the kitchen unseen and grab a quick snack that you’ll probably eat in your room. What’s irritating is that you can feel Bucky before you can see him. You turn and see him just a few feet away from you wearing a cocky smirk.

“I was looking for you.”

“How unfortunate for me.”

“Awh, come on, Doll, don’t be like that. I’ve missed you.”

“And I’ve missed the peace and quiet you’ve disrupted.”

You grab your snack and try to move away from him but he won’t let you escape that easily.

“Where are you going? Don’t you want to hang out with us?”

“I’d rather stick needles in my eyes than hang out with you. Plus, I don’t want to get an STD from your whore on that couch.”

Bucky laughs and steps aside so you can leave the kitchen, but he only leaves barely enough room for you to squeeze by. You hate how much you like feeling his body as you pass by. Stop! He’s an asshole and a playboy! Bad Y/N! Steve and Jessica are already all over each other while Bucky’s date is scrolling through her phone, clearly bored.

“Hey, where are you going?” Jessica asks, giggling when Steve kisses her neck.

“My room. Have fun.”

You’d hope that the barrier between you and the rest of the party would be enough to block out the sounds, but Bucky is making it his mission to get you to hear him and his date. Whether that be her moaning or laughing. It makes you sick. You sit at your computer and browse social media when you get a message from someone on Instagram.

Brady: Hey! I’m having a party downtown and would love it if you came! It’s open bar. Tell your friends!

Brady provides an address that is halfway across town. You don’t know who this is but it’s an opportunity to get the hell out of here. You’re scared that the party in the living room will turn into an orgy if they all consent to it. It’s likely you won’t know anyone at the party either, but it’s a good way to meet someone. Jessica is right, you need to get laid.

You change into a moderately revealing outfit but it covers enough to keep some mystery. It’s a short, one-strap red dress that stops at your knees, and you pair that with black pumps. You don’t do much in terms of makeup and hair so you keep it breezy and light knowing it’s going to get hot and sweaty at the party.

You grab your purse before making your way to the front door. You look back and see Jessica and Steve lost in each other, and Bucky’s girl is sitting by herself on the couch.

“Where’s Bucky?”

“Bathroom. Where are you going.”

“Out. Don’t wait up.”

You leave the apartment and take a twenty-minute bus drive over to the party. You’re nervous to be going alone to a party where you don’t know anyone but you need to step out of your comfort zone. It’s getting lonely coming home to an empty bed while Jessica has hers full. The second you step into the party, you’re hit with a stench of weed and alcohol.

“Hey, you here alone?” a man asks.

A man who has got to be at least six foot four approaches you with a smile. First impression? He’s cocky but he tries to hide it through a shy smile. His attitude and confidence stem from his height. He must think he can get any girl he wants. It doesn’t hurt that he’s easy on the eyes. Still, you’re not an idiot and you won’t be oblivious just because he’s cute.

“No, my friend is parking the car.”

“Can I get you two a drink, then?”

“Only if I can come with you.”

“I’m Brady.” Oh, so he’s the one who invited you. You’re pretty sure he was mass-sending that message out to anyone in the area. “The bar is in the back.”

You follow Brady to the bar and watch the bartender pour your drink. You take it from her with a smile and turn to Brady who already has his eyes on other girls.

“So, is this your house?”

“Yeah, my roommates are out of town and told me to have fun.”

“Wow, I didn’t think fun meant throwing a party where half the state is invited.”

“I know, right?” He laughs. “Do you live around here? I would have noticed someone as beautiful as you around.”

You blush at the compliment but don’t comment on it. “I live across town. I normally don’t travel around here.”

“I think I have to change that.” He’s not doing anything wrong but you can’t help but compare him to Bucky. For some odd reason, you’re wishing that he was here with you instead. A woman walks up to the bar to get another drink, and Brady turns to her. “Hey, where did you go? I missed you.”

You should have seen this coming. All men like him and Bucky are the same. Always pushing someone away when someone better comes along. You look nothing like the beautiful woman Brady’s flirting with but that doesn’t mean he can just toss you to the side and pretend like you don’t exist.

“Bye, Brady.”

He doesn't even spare you a glance. You leave the bar and scout out someone new to talk to. However, the more you study everyone here, the more you feel out of place. You love a good party but this is just too much. People are on the couch smoking weed and making out, there is a mosh pit happening in the middle of the living room where everyone is grinding on each other, people are out by the pool drinking and smoking, and what you assume is more upstairs fucking.

It was a bad idea not to tell your roommate you were coming here.

You throw your drink away and push your way to the front door. You take in a lungful of fresh air and walk to the park right across the street. There are a few people that have taken the party to the park but it’s nothing like what’s happening inside. You took one of the last buses here so you know there aren’t going to be any that run this late at night, so you can either find a ride home or walk home.

You take out your phone and message Jessica hoping that she and Steve are done doing whatever they are doing.

You: Can you come pick me up? I went to a party and I don’t like it here. I don’t want to walk home this late at night.

Jessica: I’m on my way.

You’d take an Uber but you don’t have any money. Jessica usually lets you borrow her car, but you didn’t want to leave her without it. You wrap your arms around yourself since it’s a bit chilly. You didn’t think to bring a jacket because you thought the heat of the party would warm you. Ten minutes later, you hear a bike engine rev as it gets closer to you.

You don’t have to see who the driver is to know who it is. You’d know that bike anywhere. Bucky pulls up next to you and takes off his helmet.

“I didn’t call for you. Go away.”

“Whoa, calm down, Doll. I’m your Prince Charming. I heard you needed a ride.” He pats the seat behind him. “Your chariot awaits, princess.”

“You got me all fucked up if you think I’m getting on that death trap. Where is Jessica?”

Bucky smirks. “She’s kind of busy at the moment with Steve if you know what I mean.” You roll your eyes. “I offer my services.”

“No thanks. I’ll walk.”

You go to walk past him but he grabs your arm gently to stop you.

“I’m only going to say this once. Get on the bike, Doll.”

You try to yank your arm away but Bucky’s grip is firm yet gentle.

“Fine.”

Bucky lets go of your arm and hands you a spare helmet. He puts his helmet on while you put yours on, and you use him for support while getting on the bike. He grabs your arm and pulls you closer but you refuse to be flush against him. You jerk back and sit as far away as you can from him. Bucky only chuckles and faces forward on the bike. He revs the engine and jerks forward causing you to slam into his back. Your arms go around his waist to keep yourself from falling off, and he grabs both your hands with one of his.

“Asshole,” you mutter to yourself.

“I heard that.”

Bucky’s voice comes through the small speaker inside the helmet that allows you two to talk to each other.

“Just drive.”

You and Bucky ride all the way home in silence. There is no way you’re going to talk to him. What would you even say? Would you pick a fight? Would you say thank you? The second Bucky parks the bike, you’re hopping off it. You take the helmet off and practically throw it at him before running toward the house. Bucky is hot on your heels so you don’t have much time to escape.

You grab the doorknob to open it but Bucky grabs your waist and flips you so you’re facing him.

“What do you want from me, Bucky?”

“Am I not going to get a thank you?”

“Thank you, Prince Charming. That was so nice of you to drive me home because they asked you to,” you say sarcastically.

He chuckles in a low tone. “They didn’t ask me to.”

“Yeah, because you came on your own free will,” you roll your eyes.

“What have I done to make you hate me so much?”

“Please,” you scoff.

“No, seriously. I want to know. Have I done something to piss you off?”

“You know exactly what you did.”

“No, use your words. What did I do to piss you off?”

Bucky refuses to let you go so either you two stand here for the rest of the night or you confess.

“Because you’re a bad person! You get into fights that land you in jail. You do illegal shit that also lands you in jail. You take home any girl who gives you five seconds of their attention. Do you know how many times, Steve, Jessica, and I have bailed you out of jail? You’re not good.”

“Oh, okay.” Bucky reaches up and grasps your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. He leans in so close that you think he is going to kiss you. He might have a metal arm but you don’t think he has super hearing. Otherwise, he’d hear how hard your heart is beating. It isn’t real, Y/N. He doesn’t feel things for you. He bypasses your lips and goes straight to your ear. “I think you want me to be the bad guy because I think you know I’d be too good to you.”

He casually nips the outside of your ear before pulling away.

“What are you doing?” you ask, breathlessly.

“Good night, Doll.”

He winks at you and walks back to his bike. He doesn’t spare you another glance as he drives away, and you fall against the door, completely flustered. You’re fucked.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 21 days ago

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Hell I'm amazed with your work. Your Peter Pan au really got me hooked (see what I did there lol). I would love to read more of this. The way he was so sweet with her and how they got along that well even if he never really talked. 🥹🤭💙

And Hades!Bucky? My heart broke, but there's a serenity in it somehow and it really did me in. Truly a bittersweet ending, but so beautifully written, I had to take a few minutes to process it. 💙

j. bucky barnes masterlist.

⧆ fluff ⧈ angst ⧇ mature ▣ dark ❊ favourite

「 series 」

✩ 12 days of christmas ⧆ ↳ completed, xmas/holiday special, ao3 exclusive

✩ ain’t life a peach? ⧆ ↳ completed, flufftober 2024, ao3 exclusive

「 one-shots 」

✩ as the moon wanes ⧈ ↳ coming eventually, winter soldier!bucky, alternate timeline

✩ loyal, brave, and true ⧈⧆ ↳ coming eventually, mulan elements, asian-coded!reader

✩ of all the ways to die ⧈⧆ ↳ hades!bucky au, ao3 exclusive

✩ requiem ⧈❊ ↳ captain hook!bucky, peter pan au, ao3 exclusive

✩ stupid cupid ⧆ ↳ coming eventually, greek mythology elements, winter special

✩ the secrets we keep ▣ ↳ fractured fairytale au, dark, ao3 exclusive

✩ timeless ⧈❊ ↳ time traveler!reader, ao3 exclusive

✩ what makes a woman ⧆⧇ ↳ established relationship, hurt/comfort, ao3 exclusive

#bucky barnes masterlist #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfiction

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 21 days ago

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I'm on the floor. With my clothes off

Hey :) you’ve got to be fucking kidding me :)

#sebastian stan #sebastianstan #in sebastian we stan

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 21 days ago

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This blew my mind to the heavens. My poor heart is torn but damn, this is incredible and catching work! One of the best things I've read in a long time. Made me feel so much, it’s aching. But also in a good kind of way. Thank you!! 🙏❤

about that night (the bugs and the dirt)

summary: You never talk about that night, and Bucky never asks. Even though he can't help but suspect something is wrong.

pairing: bucky barnes x witch!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: past character death and vague mentions of blood (yk, spooky stuff); there's no actual dialogue in this and the characters are worse for it 💛 please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: it only took me three years but i finally managed to finish a fic in time for halloween 😌🎃 i genuinely don't know how to describe the vibes of this except buffy the vampire slayer season six meets "if lisa frankenstein was a drama" meets hozier's like real people do. have fun 🫶🏼

masterlist | read on ao3

Something’s wrong.

Something’s been wrong for a while, but Bucky can’t quite put his finger on it. It’s a fragile thing, this knowledge, this certainty, lingering at the back of his mind like the dim light of a forgotten lamp, shimmering, seeping through the cracks.

Whenever he asks you, you tell him that everything is fine, and he wants to believe you, desperately. You wouldn’t lie to him, you with your luminous eyes and your soft smile. Deceptions would taste foul on your lips.

But something’s wrong.

It’s all wrong.

He’s always been too smart for his own good, and he’s going to find out, you know he will, but that’s precisely why you can’t let him. He’s going to know how far you’ve fallen, and he’s going to despise you for it.

So he forgets.

Sometimes, when he wakes up, his tongue is heavy with bile and dirt, his eyes crusted shut with something worse than bad dreams. Sometimes, when he listens closely, he can hear the air humming with lost hymns that are not from this earth.

Maybe he should’ve gotten used to that, by now; your walls have always had ears and mouths and eyes, after all. That’s the price for loving a witch, you’d say, back in the days when your smiles came easy. Wherever you are, you’re never alone.

It’s different than he remembers, though, even through the cracked and blurry pictures of his memories, his foggy mind, but he can’t put his finger on why. Darker. Colder. Damp. It’s like something has left.

Doubt follows his every waking hour, even more so when he tries to think of that night.

That night.

Oh, that night.

The taste of blood on your lips when you kissed him, desperately, like you hadn’t seen him in months. The muddy streaks on your arms when he looked at you in the pale moonlight, the scrape of dirt underneath your fingernails. It had been raining. You smelt like pain.

What had you been digging?

He needs to forget about that night and what it actually was you’d dug up, then. You’d told him you’d had to bury an animal that had gotten lost and died in the garden, and it was a half-truth even by the most generous account.

Dark, evil things happened that night, and no matter their intent, you were the sum of them.

You’d sacrificed a lamb to dig up a wolf.

He doesn’t remember your answer now, but it must’ve been enough for him, then. It must have been.

So he doesn’t ask again, no matter how hard uncertainty tugs on his lungs.

On that old, familiar path, he follows you home and feels like a stranger.

The blood itself was the easiest to wash off, and maybe that was the worst part. In the human world, crime rarely disappeared without a trace, but magic always left its mark.

You remember tumbling on your way back, almost tripping over your doorstep, a sudden pulse of energy pulling the breath from your lungs. These were your own four walls, the ones you’d blessed yourself, tended to and looked after for years, and they seemed to recoil.

Bucky caught your arm without even looking, catching you like he always had, and you crossed the threshold together. You looked at him, then, for the first time since the graveyard. You could feel his pulse under your grip, his heartbeat strong and loud enough to be mistaken for your own, but his gaze so uncertain, like he wasn’t sure he actually belonged here.

With you.

You made up your mind right then and there. He could never know.

You stir your tea as you always do, and you’ve set out his cup on the kitchen table. Alpine paws at it before he can pick it up, a fierce growl accompanying the sound of smashing porcelain.

She’s been angry with both of you, and he doesn’t know why. She keeps hissing at him, and she refuses to sit on your lap when you study your books next to the fireplace like she always used to. Like she’s punishing you in whatever little way she can for a crime he doesn’t understand.

You sigh, and you repair the cup with a flick of your wrist, and then you don’t reach out to pet that spot behind Alpine’s ears.

It’s little things like that.

And it’s your tired eyes.

Of course, no one else can know either; it’s not a risk you’re willing to take.

If Bucky notices the phone’s been unplugged all this time, he’s never said a word. He’s never been much for talking, anyway, but he does it even less so these days. You’ve both turned quiet around each other, but the only thing that matters is that you’re both still here.

Even now, you can feel the dark powers humming through your veins, just like you could that night. You hear the whispers calling out your name and see the shadows at the very periphery of your vision. They follow you into your dreams until you give up on them, slipping out of the warm embrace of your bed to hunch over the tome again, again, just a little more.

Perhaps you should worry about repercussions, but what for? After all, everything you did that night, you did out of love.

Everything you’ve done, you’ve done for him.

Sometimes, he doesn’t notice them for a very long time, and then it hits him all over again just how exhausted you look. When he wakes up in the middle of the night, your side of the bed is empty and the roof of his mouth tastes like ash and decay. In those moments, he thinks he might still be dreaming; his bones are heavy and cold and unyielding, and he lies there like something forgotten, and all of his thoughts revolve around you.

He’s so worried about you.

He wants to ask if it’s something he’s done. He wants to know if he can make it better, make you smile again like you always did at the sight of him, every time. But he’s afraid of the answer.

You’ve not been yourself and you know it, but at this point, you feel unable to stop it. It’s too late, anyway. The dead already walk to earth, and you’re the one to blame. You’re the one to thank.

Sometimes, the thought does hit you that there’s something a little wrong with you these days. But then he looks at you and he smiles, and you’re young and foolish and in love all over again, that weight of all those weeks of screaming and crying lifted with every glance, every touch, every kiss.

This, the uncertainty, is the worst part of it. It becomes his closest companion, and it only lifts slightly when you return to him, if only for a moment. When you do smile, when you put your hands around his neck and kiss him and he can feel real again, feel like himself again.

He barely notices that you will only look him in the eye when it’s dark, when he can lose himself in your touch, foreheads pressed together, breaths heavy and mingling, the only real creatures in the world. The sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

Maybe you are wrong. Maybe you are wicked and evil and rotten to the core, and maybe there’ll be hell to pay for it yet.

But you’re not sorry.

thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!! also, comments are trick or treats that last all year long. just saying 💛

oh, before we leave, here's an extra shoutout to @brandycranby for telling me this was fun and the perfect length. i accidentally made it longer again. love u 🫶🏼

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #about that night (the bugs and the dirt)

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 23 days ago

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Oh I love this relationship! So lovely 🥰

A Picture is Worth...

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky each look at a photo of the other.

Word Count: Over 600

Warnings: Fluff, established relationship, alternating POV, light angst, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Just a Monday ficlet for you lovelies. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You loved photographs. Moments forever frozen in time, like life handed you a small button to hit pause. They kept memories alive, the settings, the people, the colors. They created a tangible link to your past and helped pass something on to those in the future.

Bucky loved photographs. A man frozen in time, he knew all too well that he could never go back, but he could gaze at pictures and look back. They sparked his memories when his head hurt too much. They helped him remember why his past shaped the man he was today and why he had to fight for a better future.

Tears blurred your vision as you looked at a recent photo of Bucky. He always let you take photos before his missions. In this photo, he stared off into the distance, serene and unhurried. You hadn’t told him you were taking the picture and loved the candid authenticity. It was beautiful because it was real.

Bucky smiled at your photo. It was worn from the number of times he held it in his hand. In this photo, you were gazing at him and smiling, a loving and tender smile that you only shared with him. He knew how much you loved candid photos and managed to take the photo at the right moment. It was beautiful because you were real.

You wiped your tears away with a smile. Did Bucky know you were thinking of him, that you missed him? You hoped so. He would come back to you. He always did.

Bucky’s smile slipped and he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. Did you know he was thinking of you? That he was fighting to get home to you? He hoped so. He would get back to you. He always did.

Your eyes closed when you brought the photograph to your lips, wishing he was there so you could kiss him. That would be the first thing you’d do when you saw him again. You’d breathe into his lungs and let him feel how happy you were to have him back home where he belonged. You’d make sure he was uninjured, and if he was, you’d take care of him. Either way, you’d sleep better with him beside you.

Bucky brought the photograph to his chest and placed it over his heart, wishing he could hold you. That would be the first thing he’d do when he saw you again. He’d keep you in his embrace so you’d know he was home where he belonged. He’d assure you he was perfectly fine or let you fawn over him if he somehow got hurt, but he wasn’t going to let himself get injured. No matter what, he’d sleep better with you beside him.

You pulled the picture away, your heart skipping a beat as you gazed at it again. A picture is worth a thousand words and you wished you had a thousand words to convey how much he meant to you. “Love you. Please, stay safe,” you whispered, giving it one more kiss. “And come back to me.”

Bucky held the photograph up again, his heart racing. He didn’t always trust his own mind, but seeing you is believing and seeing your smile made him want to create a thousand more memories with you. “Love you. I’ll be home before you know it,” he whispered, holding it over his heart once more like a promise. “Safe and sound.”

And both of you were looking forward to the next photo you’d take together, a reflection of past memories and future moments to come.

Am I a sap for getting teary eyed? Probably. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x you

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 23 days ago

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Angstober (day 18)

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Reader

Prompt: Falling Stars

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Two idiots not being able to confess their feelings; sad!Bucky, sad!Reader; Bucky is a playboy; hurt myself with this

Angstober Masterlist

You wince at the sharp clinking of your keys as you turn the right one in the deadbolt of your front door. It echoes around you, sounding in the hallway, way too loud for this hour.

You hadn’t intended for it to get this late. But Wanda had been bubbling over with stories about this new guy she was crushing on, Vision, and Nat just couldn’t resist tossing in sly jokes about his name every few minutes.

Also, there’s that something you have to talk about with Bucky. That something you’ve been trying to work up courage for to finally tell him. But you rather spend your time with distracting yourself.

So, you’re not that surprised that the planned girls' night out stretched far after midnight.

Fortunately, you’d kept yourself in check with the drinks, just enough to stay warm but not enough to make the way home fuzzy. You’re grateful you’ve got nothing to do tomorrow, besides perhaps a bit laundry, as you feel the tiredness creep in. Slipping off your shoes with a quiet sigh, you let the relief flood through your slightly sore feet.

The apartment is shrouded in soft shadows, and you decide against switching on any lights. The last thing you want is for that sliver of brightness to seep under Bucky’s door, disturbing his sleep. Instead, you use the wall and furniture for guidance, fingers skimming the cool wood.

Something halts you in your movements.

There is a hunched figure sitting outside on the fire escape, motionless, his silhouette outlined by the dulled glow of stars, the moon, and the city lights. You would have been scared, would have felt a shudder running down your spine, if you weren’t so familiar with the figure sitting there.

Concern replaces the tiredness in your veins and a frown pulls at your brows and twitches at the corners of your lips. What would pull Bucky out here, so late in the night, with all lights off, his gaze so intently fixed on the heavens as though he hopes for answers to questions too heavy to voice, too ingrained in his mind for you to know.

Though you have to admit to yourself, maybe you do know.

Things between Bucky and you have been distant lately, for the past few weeks. And that’s nobody’s fault but yours.

He’s been nothing but patient and kind as you’d started retreating from your usual nights spent watching movies, your late-night talks, mornings in the kitchen where you surrounded yourselves with freshly made pancakes and coffee, playing silly games as to who would find the loudest creaking floorboard of your apartment.

He noticed, and it was clear in his eyes how much it troubled him, throwing you a dim smile and a no problem doll! We’ll catch up on that later, yeah? after you gave him another excuse.

It’s not like you haven’t endured this before. Hell, you have. But it never gets easier to have sleepless and plagued nights filled with muffled sighs and moans creeping into the quiet of your room, haunting your rest, fending off nice dreams, and what hurts the most - penetrating the feelings you never planned on letting out. The misplaced feelings for your best friend that are nothing but the cause of your rising misery.

And, well, everybody has a breaking point.

It came one morning, just a few weeks ago when you left your room in hopes of covering up the bags under your eyes to find a trail of clothes scattered from the hallway to his door. His shirt and jacket tangled with something feminine and delicate - clothes they seemingly couldn’t wait to get rid of, hurriedly shedding them to leave them where they’d fallen.

It stung. God, it stung.

You were frozen, standing there and staring at the vivid remnants of the night he shared with someone else. Someone who either left with Bucky’s clothes on or was still lying there in his bed, perhaps wrapped up in his arms, relishing in the intimacy he gave so easily to others.

It hit you all at once, like a punch to your gut, your back, your face, even your legs because they felt so weak, so damn wobbly, and you thought about curling up on the floor, sinking into your sorrow, letting it wrap its arms around you if Bucky’s wouldn’t do it.

The pain was so sharp you could scarcely breathe through it, feeling it slice and tear, unraveling in your chest as each shatter of your heart was pulled in a different direction. A foreign ache pressed horribly against your ribs and you were almost too numb to feel the hot and unbidden burn of tears gathering under your lashes. You turned away, but the hurt followed.

And that’s when you decided you couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t keep hearing the muffled grunts and groans slipping through the walls more nights than not, the aching signs of yet another conquest tucked under his sheets. While you lie awake, barely breathing, as if being still enough would somehow make it hurt less, though it never did.

Then, after staring at the ceiling blankly even after it had gone silent, morning would inevitably come and you’d listen to Bucky usher the next girl out. He’d always keep his words polite but you hear that undertone of frustration easily crawling into his voice. It’s masked, but you hear it. You hear everything. Because he’s Bucky and you know him better than yourself.

Or that’s what you think.

You’d grown adept at reading the pauses, the tired restraint in his tone when she wants to make breakfast with him, refusing to leave. Even that barely audible sigh of relief as the door clicked shut, and the way he always stays rooted a few seconds too long before moving over to the kitchen and making you breakfast and coffee.

You only ever manage to leave your bed, trying to unhook this secret ache from your heart, when the smell of pancakes reaches you behind your door.

There was one time when Bucky couldn’t hold himself back like he usually did. You heard a girl tinker around in the kitchen through the door but weren’t in the state of mind to do something about it. But when your best friend left the bathroom to rush to the kitchen there was a loud crash, resounding around your shared space. It led to you sitting up in bed. Or perhaps you sat up because of the frustrated curses that left Bucky’s mouth.

They weren’t directed at the girl but then she started laughing, only exclaiming an oops that held a seductive tone, not sounding sorry at all for dropping something that wasn’t her own. It had been your favorite mug, you later found out.

“Alright, you need to go. Now. Come on, don’t make this difficult, I want you out.”

Bucky’s tone was clipped and tense, not necessarily raised but there was an edge to his voice you were surprised to hear. Never had he spoken to you like that before, never would you imagine he even could. And although this wasn’t at all directed at you, it surprised you nevertheless.

The girl left without a fuss.

But unfortunately, she didn’t leave with your bleeding heart. None of those girls did.

So, no you couldn’t keep doing this. And that’s when you started looking. Quietly, behind your closed door, without a word to your best friend, scrolling through endless apartment listings, combing through flatmate ads and real estate sites in search of an escape. You need distance, a new place to gather yourself and your feelings, even if that means giving up the ease and warmth of sharing a home with Bucky.

A few days ago you found a bright, little one-bedroom in Brooklyn, neat and sunlit, with a price tag that didn’t make your stomach drop. It was clean, affordable, everything you could want.

It just didn’t have Bucky.

He wouldn’t be just across the hall anymore.

No more of him, sprawled out on the couch with that boyish grin, claiming he didn’t wait for you to come home but whining when you were about to retreat to your room.

No more cozy breakfasts together with you making scrambled eggs or him making pancakes, the start of the day only just lighting up your kitchen.

No more laughing until your rips ached or sharing a blanket while trying to decipher the faded star constellations on the light-polluted night sky out on the fire escape.

No more rearranging your bookshelf in the hallway because Bucky’s nimble fingers deliberately destroyed your system once again, just so he had a reason to keep you out of your room. You never even thought about placing the shelf in your room in the first place.

And even though you haven’t yet found the courage to tell him, you know you have to. Because the appointment is set, a visit to your potential new apartment already on your calendar, and a part of you is resolved, even if it stings.

So yes, perhaps you do have an inkling of what’s weighing on Bucky’s mind tonight, might know some of the questions he’s casting into the unresponsive night sky. The thought twists inside you, pulling tight until it leaves a bitter taste at the back of your throat. The distance you built between you was never meant to hurt him. You never wanted him to feel confused, to wonder what had gone wrong, or to turn his gaze inward, picking himself apart in search of answers to questions you hadn’t dared voice.

But here he is, shoulders hunched under the weight of his own thoughts. Thoughts you had put there.

You can’t let him bear this.

Your feet carry you forward, steps carefully as you make your way to the fire escape. Slowly, watching for reactions from him, you slip out the window and settle down beside him on the cold metal. He gives you such a quick look, it’s hard to make out his features and angles his face downward a little, shadows lining his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, the sound trembling slightly, deep and unsteady, he readjusts his place on the ground, sitting up a little straighter and making enough room for you.

A dark blanket is draped around his shoulders and you watch him shift his arm, opening the space underneath it for you to sink into the warmth of the fabric. Without a word, you inch closer, settling into his side and he makes sure the blanket covers your form. You feel the warmth seep into your bones, though it’s not the blanket that gifts it to you.

Bucky doesn’t look your way, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the rooftops, but his arm settles securely around you. There’s a hesitance in his movements that makes your stomach churn uncomfortably but you try and let him ground you.

“Are you okay?”

Your question is soft as a breath, barely a whisper between the two of you. You search his profile, hoping he’ll at least give you anything, but his eyes remain fixed forward, jaw set tight, stubbornly resisting your gaze.

“I’m fine,” he then rasps, though the words sound brittle, cracked, like he hasn’t made use of his voice the whole day, roughened by hours of silence. His voice is thick, thicker than the blanket around your shoulders that’s supposed to keep out the cold, but a shudder runs down your spine nonetheless.

You keep watching him, unblinking, because he knows you see the lie. But he doesn’t take it back, doesn’t soften or explain, or even try to make it seem like he’s okay. Instead, he just sits there with those sad, distant eyes and slumped shoulders, lips pressed into a frown as his brows draw together in tired lines.

“No, you’re not.”

It’s gentle as you say it, careful. You can’t take your eyes off of him, watching his lips twitch in a humorless huff, a hollow, empty sound that’s swept away with the nightly breeze as soon as it leaves him. He takes a slow, steadying breath, as though the air itself might offer him something solid, and he clears his throat softly, eyes never leaving the stars.

You sit in the stillness, not even hearing the sounds of the city below, only hoping to hear him again, waiting for him to ask you what he meant to ask the night. But the silence stretches on, unbroken and filled with a tension you’re not used to feeling around Bucky.

Eventually, you avert your gaze and look out at the lights yourself, that’s wrapped in a darkness that usually feels comfortable. You’ve been in this position so many times before, sitting on the metal, cozying up against his side, with his arm slung over your shoulder, but there is so much space between you even though you feel the entirety of his left side pressed against your right.

You take a breath that fills you with a realization you’d like to swallow down again. This isn’t the moment to lay everything bare, to tell him what you know you have to, but in order to break through the barriers that built between you and Bucky, you’ll have to be honest. Yet, if you can’t bring yourself to speak of the feelings you’ve held so closely for him, then you’ll have to tell him the other truth. The one you’ve kept hidden for now. You’ll have to tell him you’re leaving, that soon there will be no more shared walls, no more lingering mornings, and touches on the couch during movie nights.

It’s the only way to unburden both of you, to allow him - and yourself - to stop searching the night for answers that have been locked in your heart all along.

This step away is the only way forward.

And he deserves to know. He deserves to experience it for himself.

“I have to tell you something.”

Your voice is once again just barely a murmur and this time it’s his turn to watch your profile, his eyes tracing your features as yours remain trained on the blurred constellation of city lights and their surrounding darkness, unseeing and unfocused.

Maybe he catches the undertone in your voice, that tremor of guilt, of reluctance - the suffocating fear that, once spoken aloud, your decision will become real. It won’t just be a simple hope to a relief anymore, it will be your reality and more than that - it will be Bucky’s too.

You pause, pulling in a shaky breath, feeling his steady gaze on you, waiting and patient like he always is. “I’ve been thinking. Lately. And I guess, maybe… I mean I believe it’s for the best-”

You let out a frustrated sigh, pressing your lips together, summoning every ounce of courage, forcing the words past the tightness in your throat.

“I’m planning on moving out.”

The words tumble from you in one rushed breath and you feel empty of air for a moment.

There’s no way you can keep breathing normally ever again at the sharp, strangled sound of Bucky’s own breath hitching, a choked inhale that makes your lungs gasp for a reprieve you’re not able to give, despite it being so easy.

Bucky goes impossibly still beside you, his shoulders no longer slumped but rigid, his body stiff as a board and his arm around you retreats slowly, almost mechanically. The warmth of his shoulder, which once felt so comforting, is now a firm weight against you. His gaze leaves needles prickling into your skin, so intense and confused, it fills you with a dread so unbearable, you wonder if you’ve made a mistake by telling him.

But there is no going back now.

“It wasn’t an easy decision, okay?” you start, trying to keep your voice as steady as it would go, but you know you fail. “And it’s not because of anything you did, or anything that’s happened between us, alright? I just… I just need this. For myself.”

Bucky still doesn’t say anything and you force yourself to meet his eyes. However, you couldn’t prepare yourself for what you see. The usually glowing blue of his eyes is pale and fractured with confusion and an exposed hurt so intense and laid open, it feels like a physical blow. You feel your heart screaming to take it back. To make what you said unheard.

You never meant for this - never intended to put that look in his eyes, to shove this desolation in his beautiful gaze, that sears its way into your chest, ripping it open to leave a gaping and bleeding wound.

“What did I do?” He doesn’t seem to manage anything other than a whisper, so soft, so fragile and broken it barely reaches you. Yet, it cuts deeper than anything he could have shouted, each word strained, painted with vulnerability. He sounds so small, so lost, a part of him crumbling in front of you, and the sight is enough to leave you torn.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Buck! Please, please believe me,” you beg, reaching out, but stopping short, fingers curling into your palms as you fight to keep yourself from holding him, from touching him like you always have. “I just… I have to deal with something, and I- I think it might be better this way.”

But his gaze doesn’t change, doesn’t yield to your explanation. The ache in his eyes is unforgiving, swirling in the wet sheen that has appeared with shock and a torment that seems to merge into something deeper, something that’s cutting him from the inside out.

You feel the sting behind your own eyes, hating how the tension pulls you further apart. Bucky’s eyes are rimmed red, faintly puffy and the sight grips you with fingers so bony, they leave marks on your skin. It’s a sign that whatever he’s holding inside, it’s something he’s struggled through alone already, something he’s been carrying before you came out here, something that’s been eating at him since the day you pulled back.

“You really want to do this?” It sounds as broken as the first time. Though this time he doesn’t seem to care what he sounds like anymore.

“I have to.”

He doesn’t respond. You don’t say more. You realize that no words, no explanations, could ease the ache you’ve cast into his eyes. No further explanation you could give him would uncoil the tightness in his shoulders, or soften the tension that has locked his body into a posture of heartache.

Even if you wanted to speak, you can’t. The knot in your throat has cemented itself, strangling any thought or apology before it can reach your lips. You hate it for letting anything pass in the first place.

You turn your gaze back to the city lights and hate the way they press on you. The glow of the streets and buildings you had looked upon so many times now feels lifeless, like an uninspired haze. There seems to be no color anymore, as though all the meaning has simply faded away, leaving only the dull aftermath of what you’ve set in motion.

A strained breath only leaves you, offering you no relief, and minutes stretch onward in excruciating stillness - one, two, five, maybe more, each one heavier than the last.

You still feel Bucky beside you, but never had you felt so detached. So apart from him in ways too painful to feel. But you have to feel it. Because it’s there. In every inch of space between your bodies.

It’s as though he’s fading from you, retreating into himself, covering himself with the hurt you laid out on him.

He’s sitting in the corner of your eye, breaths ragged and unsteady, yet he makes no move to contain it, no attempt to mask the sorrow that already drew him out here in the first place but feels so pronounced now. He’s letting it settle, letting it sink into him, surrendering to it.

You hate yourself for it. For the way, the words took shape, for the way they slipped past your lips, for the pain now etched into his features, and for the distance that feels too expansive to ever close with simple words.

He’ll understand eventually, you tell yourself, as if willing it into truth. Once you’ve moved out, once there’s finally a boundary between his life and yours, you’ll be able to breathe again, to find refuge from the endless loop of moments where he’s wrapped up in someone who isn’t you.

Maybe then you’ll be able to clear your head. Maybe the feelings twisting up your insides will loosen and fade if you’re lucky. Maybe you’ll be able to unravel them, to make sense of the longing that’s burrowed so deep it feels as if it’s become a part of you.

You could find a way to purge yourself of this deeply ingrained ache that thrums through your every thought of him. And then, with a little hope, you’ll be able to talk to him, as you used to, with honesty, ease, and that playful banter you miss so much, and this knot in your chest will dissolve, returning you to the friendship you both know best. So, maybe, freed from this unspoken tension, you’ll be able to look at him without feeling like you’re losing a little more of yourself with every passing glance.

You just need distance first.

And patience. A brutal patience, to endure the space that stretches between what is and what might be, to trust that the emotions which hold you close now might one day fade into the background, into something manageable, something you can breathe through.

And yet, sitting here beside him like you did so many times before, the silence heavy with words left unsaid, a part of you already knows that this patience you’re counting on, this idea that distance alone will fix what’s broken, may be the hardest illusion to cling to. But you have to try, for both your sakes, to believe there’s relief on the other side of goodbye.

Another minute goes by, stretching like the distance between you, pulling the silence tighter until the space between you feels like a chasm. You lift your glistening eyes to the night sky and something catches your attention. There is a streak of light brighter than the rest, sliding toward the earth in a slow, fading descent.

A falling star.

Its light shudders, then vanishes into the void, leaving you staring at a dark spot. Then, another appears, arcing through the dark sky, flaring for a heartbeat, and blinking away. Another follows, and another, an endless parade of wishes burning up in the night to disappear again.

You watch them fall, though with no joy. There’s no wonder, no awe, only an aching hollowness. You watch another of them light up and disappear because, at this moment, there is nothing else left to hold onto. These brief, dying sparks feel almost mocking, reminders of wishes made too late, of moments slipping out of reach before you even had the chance to claim them.

Out of the corner of your eye, you make out Bucky’s gaze lift, following the same fleeting lights. Make a wish. The thought echoes bitterly in your mind. The irony feels cruel, an old superstition dredged up in a moment where wishes hold little comfort.

But, despite yourself, you wonder what Bucky’s wish might be - what he might ask of the stars if he believed they were listening.

And as you think this, a truth rises, too sharp to ignore. You know your wish, the one you’ve been carrying all the time, the one sitting inches from you, close enough to touch but impossibly far. And there’s a twinge in realizing that he may never know, that your wish lives and breathes beside you, and he has no idea.

But you have no idea that the only thing Bucky Barnes could ever wish for is sitting right beside him too, equally unknown, equally close and painfully out of reach.

So, all you do is hold your breath, feeling the night press in, the stars disappearing one by one as their light flickers out, swallowed by the dark once again.

#bucky barnes x reader #marvel bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes angst #roommate!bucky

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 28 days ago

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Damn this is so sweet! Feel like going for a walk myself now 🧡

Golden Hour

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Themes: Set in 1940s. Confession. Reciprocated love. Friends to Lovers. FOR HOPELESS ROMANTICS. FLUFF, FLUFF FLUFF, I'M GOING TO CRY.

Summary: They say if you catch a falling maple leaf, you will fall in love with the person you are walking with….

A/N: IT'S AUTUMN SO WHY NOT AN AUTUMN FLUFFFF. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH. That's all I can say for this oneshot. HEEEEEEELP.

tags: @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss

They say if you catch a falling maple leaf, you will fall in love with the person you are walking with…

You’d heard it once, some playful superstition from a passing stranger or tucked within a ladies’ magazine you’d read in the parlor. A charming, innocent idea, really. But as autumn swept in, bringing with it the rustle of leaves and the scent of burning wood, it was hard not to dwell on it every time you found yourself alone with him, that ache in your heart growing quietly beneath the weight of all the things you couldn’t say.

It started with the glances. Fleeting moments where you’d catch Bucky watching you across a crowded room, his gaze soft and unguarded, only to see him look away the moment he knew you’d noticed. And while every sensible thought told you it was nothing, a part of you, tender and foolish, couldn’t help but wonder. Wonder if maybe, in those stolen glances, there was something he didn’t say. But then he’d laugh, smile, and carry on, as if you were just a friend, a confidante… nothing more.

The doubt settled heavily in your chest, a quiet weight that seemed to deepen each time he stood just a little too close, each accidental brush of his hand against yours. Every polite touch, every lingering smile—it was agony and comfort all at once, and you told yourself it was only natural, the way he acted around you. Yet it didn’t stop your heart from racing with every small kindness, hoping, praying, that maybe… just maybe, there was something more hidden in those smiles.

Still, it was a longing you knew must be yours alone, a secret you held tightly, tucked away like a pressed flower in a favorite book, something you feared would wither if he saw it too clearly. Because what if he did notice? What if he saw how your breath caught when he laughed, how you spent sleepless nights replaying every moment he’d lingered too close, his presence warming the air between you, as if he belonged there? The mere thought of him realizing, of knowing you looked at him that way, was as thrilling as it was terrifying. So you’d almost convinced yourself it was safer this way—to keep your distance, to save yourself the heartbreak of expecting something that wasn’t yours to hope for.

And yet, those little whispers of hope refused to fade. You’d wonder, late at night, if he noticed how your smile softened when he was near, if he ever sensed the way you held onto his every word. It was that quiet, fragile hope that kept you walking beside him now, clutching the silly old superstition as if it were a lifeline. If only you could catch that falling leaf, you told yourself, maybe it would mean something. Maybe it would make these quiet, one-sided glances into something real.

It was a ridiculous thought. You knew that. But as you strolled beside him beneath the blazing colors of the trees, your heart beating in time with each leaf that drifted to the ground, you couldn’t stop yourself from wishing—wishing that, just this once, he would look at you and truly see.

× × × ×

The park was alight with the fiery colors of autumn, the soft hum of city life drifting faintly in the background—horns honking in the distance, the murmur of people milling about in their wool coats and fedoras. You strolled side by side with Bucky, wrapped up in your coat and scarf, the crisp October air nipping at your cheeks. He wasn’t one to join you on leisurely walks, especially on his rare day off, but here he was, his hands in his pockets, letting you nudge him now and then, teasing him about looking so out of place among all the folks enjoying the pumpkin displays and hot chestnut stands.

As you walked, you kept glancing up, scanning the branches above, hoping they might give you just one chance at catching a leaf. Every time the breeze rustled through, a few would break free, fluttering down to the ground, but always out of reach. You tried to be subtle, sneaking looks upward every so often.

But Bucky wasn’t so easy to fool.

“You keep looking at the trees like they’re about to start talking or something,” he finally said, raising an eyebrow. “Something on your mind doll?”

“Hmm? Oh, just taking in the leaves,” you replied quickly, glancing away to hide the color rising in your cheeks. There was no way you were going to tell him about the silly superstition that had been occupying your thoughts since you’d left home: the one that claimed if you caught a falling maple leaf, you’d fall in love with the person you were walking beside.

Ridiculous, really, you told yourself. Just a bit of fun that didn’t mean anything. And yet, the hope of catching that leaf lingered, even as you kept up the act of enjoying the autumn air like anyone else out for a stroll.

You kept walking, chatting here and there, and just as you were about to give up on the idea, a bright red maple leaf broke from the branches above, twirling down like it was dancing on the breeze.

“There!” you gasped, reaching up on your toes without a second thought, laughing at your own attempt. But it floated just out of reach, swaying side to side like it was toying with you and just as you thought you had it, a warm hand reached past your shoulder, catching it effortlessly.

“Got it.” he said, voice low, his breath warm against your ear.

Bucky was right behind you, his chest brushing against your back, and you felt your heart skip a beat as his fingers closed around the delicate stem of the leaf. He slowly drew his hand back, and as you turned, you found yourself face to face with him, his blue eyes fixed on you, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. Just as you reached for it. He held it up, drawing his hand back ever so slightly, holding the leaf just out of reach with a smug glint in his eye. You shot him a look, reaching again, but he raised it even higher, his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Is this what you’re after?” he asked, holding up the leaf between you both teasingly dangling the leaf above your head. His voice was low, his gaze warm, and for a second, the world fell away, leaving just the two of you, standing in the dappled sunlight beneath a canopy of brilliant colors.

“Actually,” you replied, shrugging, trying to play it cool, “just throw it away.”

“Throw it away?” His eyebrow lifted, still holding the leaf just out of reach. “Why’s that?”

You sighed, hoping he wouldn’t catch the faint blush rising to your cheeks.

“Because,” you muttered, trying to sound dismissive, “if you catch a falling maple leaf, you’re supposed to fall in love with the person you’re walking with. So… throw it away.”

A flicker of surprise passed over his face, followed by a look of curiosity, his smirk softening as he held the leaf up between you.

“Oh really?” he asked, voice low, like he’d just uncovered something unexpectedly fascinating. “Then why did you try to catch it?”

Your mind scrambled, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted, “Because there was a cute guy over there.” You pointed vaguely behind him, your heart hammering with the hope that he’d buy it.

“A cute guy?” He stilled, eyebrows furrowing, his jaw tightening slightly as he turned, his gaze scanning over his shoulder.

In that split second, you seized the chance, swiping the leaf from his hand and tucking it into your coat pocket just as he turned back around. When he did, his eyes dropped to your hand resting protectively over your pocket, a knowing smile pulling at his lips.

“So… a cute guy, huh?”

You shrugged, trying to sound casual, though the racing in your chest was anything but. “Yup.”

He tilted his head, studying you, a soft chuckle slipping from him, one that you felt more than heard, as if he’d found the whole thing irresistibly charming. He gave a small shake of his head, his eyes still fixed on you, his gaze holding just long enough to make your heart trip.

“Guess I missed him,” he said, his voice carrying a softness that made your stomach flutter.

“Guess you did,” you replied, fighting a grin as you started walking again, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped every time his gaze lingered a little too long.

And as the two of you continued walking, he kept glancing at you, his eyes holding a spark you hadn’t seen before, as if he was seeing right through the playful mask you’d tried to keep up. Then, after a few quiet steps, he looked up again, as if guided by instinct. Another leaf had broken from the trees above, twirling down toward him, and before you could even react, he lifted his hand, fingers closing around it with smooth ease.

You swallowed as he lowered the leaf, holding it between you once again, but this time, the teasing spark in his eyes was gentler, softer, with a warmth that made your breath hitch.

“Got another one,” he said lightly, though his voice was gentle. You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest, the warmth in his eyes undeniable.

“What are you going to do with it?” you managed, voice barely a whisper.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his gaze slipping from the leaf to you.

“Well,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped closer, slipping the leaf into the pocket of your jacket, his hand brushing yours, lingering just long enough to make your pulse quicken. “Guess we should keep this one safe, too.”

His fingers brushed over yours as he pulled his hand away, his touch warm even through the fabric of your coat, and for a moment, he didn’t step back. His eyes held yours, the silence between you electric, his expression softened in a way that made your chest ache.

“Maybe these superstitions aren’t just legends after all,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, the words hanging in the air as his gaze swept over your face, almost as if he were memorizing it.

With a slow, knowing smile that sent a thrill down your spine, he straightened, his hand brushing yours ever so slightly as he turned to keep walking. He only made it a few steps before glancing back, an amused spark in his eye as he looked at you, still standing there, your cheeks warm, your heart racing.

“Well?” he called, his tone a soft invitation. “Are you coming?”

Before you could gather your thoughts, he reached out, taking your hand in his. His fingers intertwined with yours, your smaller hand fitting perfectly in his larger one, his touch warm against the chill in the air. Then, in one smooth, gentle motion, he brought both your hands up and tucked them inside his coat pocket, pulling you closer, the fabric soft and warm around your hand.

You glanced up, caught off guard by the quiet tenderness in his expression. His hand remained steady around yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a subtle, comforting motion as he held you close, shielding your joined hands from the cool autumn breeze.

As you began walking together, his arm tucked protectively around yours, he glanced down at you, a hint of that warm, knowing smile still lingering on his lips. And as his eyes met yours, you felt that spark again, that unspoken promise that this, whatever it was, was only the beginning.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 1 month ago

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have you seen the trailer for Thunderbolts? what do you think about this new era of Bucky? 🥰🥰

Hii 💖

I'm so sorry for not answering earlier! Somehow I didn’t see your ask until now. That’s on me, hope you're still interested in an answer!

Honestly, I've seen the trailer a while ago and I gotta say I didn’t really feel it. I don’t know, it’s just not that interesting to me. Actually, I haven't even watched any marvel productions in so long and I'm not entirely sure I will watch this movie.

Also, I'm not so sure I like where they took his character. I know, a trailer can’t tell so much but this era of Bucky just feels off somehow and I'm just not that curious to find much out about it.

I still love Bucky as a character and he means a lot to me, but I'm sure this app will keep me updated on everything I need to know and that’s kinda enough for me lol.

I don’t paint myself important enough to disappointed anyone with this point of view but If I did, I am sorry!

Still sending all my love to Bucky!! ❤️🦾

And you of course, thank you for asking! 💕💕

#answered asks #thunderbolts #thunderbolts trailer #bucky marvel #marvel bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #sorry to disappoint

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 1 month ago

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Damn, Bucky sure as hell is hot as a Vampire 🥵

And those teeth... would definitely let him bite me lol

Thank you for that fic!!

When night comes | B.B

>> Sweet loving all day — but deep down he has a secret that comes out at night. The sweet and loving man turning into a feral and needing man when it comes to what he wants — you. <<

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 7.184 Words

Warnings: Minors dni, 18+, kinda stalking, mention of blood, smut [finger sucking, fingering (fem!rec), protected p in v, multiple orgasm, size kink, one slap on her tits], calming/bitting, licking to heal it, praises

Authors Note: First oneshot on this account, you may know me as @buckys-wintersoldier but I made a new account (some personal reasons). Dividers made by me.

Events: Alternate June-iverse [Card 4006; C1; Painter], Fandom-Free Bingo: Maritime May [Row Three-Two; first time], Hot Bucky Summer [Week 9; Free Week], Bucky Barnes Bingo [Y5; Ice cream], July Break Bingo [Row One-Three; Giving them your jacket or wearing their clothes]

It was just a warm summer day, a fresh breeze cutting the burning sun of the day. Your hair moves softly with the wind, especially with every movement you’re doing forward. There aren’t any disturbing thoughts in your mind at the moment, the feeling of the warmth after so many days of rain, making you happy and helping you to relax between your work and private life.

Even though there isn’t that much going on in your private life, not since your new boss is managing the business and making you finish your work every day no matter how long you have to work or if it’s someone else's shit you have to do, he doesn’t care.

So there isn’t much time for you to do something for yourself, except today — your first day free in a long while. Luckily for you, the sun is shining, the weather is perfect and you couldn’t imagine something better than just being in the park with ice, your notebook and pen.

You walk slowly through the park, already seeing your favorite ice booth, smiling widely when the sun warms you and you already feel anticipation to get your favorite ice cream.

Around you are a few people, some with their kids, some with their friends but it’s nothing new for you. You’re working with people all day. A small girl is running toward you, looking back at her brother who chases after her. She runs straight into your arms without wanting it, shrieking when her small arms are suddenly wrapped around your thighs.

“Oh- Hiiiii,” she giggles, looking up at you. Her small hands caressing your skin over your knee and you smile at her. “‘m sorry, my brother is chasing after me.”

Her giggles make you smile even more, she is adorable. You don’t have kids, you’re too busy with work and haven’t met the right guy yet. Maybe you will find someone someday who wants a family with you and then maybe someday there will be small little kids running through your apartment. Maybe jumping on top of you in the early morning where you and your future man will be still tired but the moment you will look at them and their pretty smile you will see everything you always needed — a family with the man you love and some sweet kids and maybe one or two dogs.

But right now you have that little girl in front of you, smiling at you. She lets go of your thighs, taking a step backwards before she runs once again to get away from her laughing brother. He grins at you as well, running next to you to chase further after his sister. “COME HERE! We are not done yet! You tickled me now it’s my turn,” he giggles sweetly.

You shake your head amused by the two kids, then you continue walking to your favorite ice cream booth. There aren’t many people just yet, which is surprising because it’s not only your favorite place to get ice cream plus it’s a warm day, a free day for most people and it’s in the middle of the park.

“Hey,” you greet the smiling lady behind the counter. She is wearing a shirt with the logo of the shop. She nods toward you, waiting for you to look for whatever you want to order.

“And? Do you already know what you want or do you need a moment to decide?” She asks, looking at you the whole time while you look through all the different kinds of ice cream.

After a while you sit at the lake in the park, legs dangling over the edge of the bench while you hold your notebook in your hands, looking around for some inspiration to draw. Your eyes roam over the trees, the lake and the people until…

There is one man who gets your attention, he is sitting in the shade of the tree, he wears a dark shirt and dark, long pants. Compared to the others around you his clothes are dark and his pants are long, definitely not for such warm weather.

You study him, his long, dark-brown hair, hanging in his face, covering half of it. The end on his broad shoulders, your eyes roam lower to his stomach where his dark shirt is tight enough to reveal his highly defined muscular abs. His waist is small, leading to his long legs to his feet. You let your gaze slide back to his face which is still covered with his long hair.

Only when he moves slightly and the sun is slightly shining on him do you see a glistening — a necklace which is stuck in his shirt. You’re not sure why but he has something you want to discover, something mysterious and kind of scary but still interesting.

Without thinking much more you bring your pen down on the page of your notebook, starting to draw the broad form of the man. Little do you know, that he looks at you, taking in every small movement you’re doing, smirking to himself when he notices that you can’t keep your eyes off him — you like the mysterious, he knows it, he knew from the day he saw you walking down the street after work. And since then he knew he has to have you, he needs you to be his — only his.

You look up at him every now and then, taking in his big frame, trying to catch all the details while he doesn’t really move all the time. It’s like he knows that you draw him, like he wants you to notice him. With a soft smile across your lips you finish the first part of your drawing, you now need to draw some prominent lines and then the shadows before you’re finished with your drawing of the mysterious man.

Slowly he gets up, his eyes always on you but you look fast focused on your notebook, not giving him any kind of attention anymore. He huffs, gritting his teeth slightly when a man walks past you, eyes looking down at your smaller frame, not noticing the guy in front of you — luckily for him he doesn’t talk or touch you, just casually walking further through the park.

Once you’re almost done with your drawing you look up to look at the tree once again. Your smile drops as soon as you notice that the man isn’t sitting there anymore. Trying to find him somewhere else in the park you look around, behind you, right, left but there is not a single hint that the man who sat there just a few minutes ago was even in the park.

“Lookin’ for someone, darlin’?” A deep voice suddenly asks and your head shoots to your side, you gasp. There he is — standing right next to you, his ocean blue eyes focused on you and he smiles down at you, before letting himself fall down on the bench beside you. “Don’t want ya to look sad because ya think I’m not sayin’ ‘Hi’.”

Your eyes scan his face, from his hair upwards, over his forehead — his skin pale and you wonder if he doesn’t like the sun or just works a lot as well. You let your gaze slide to his eyes, ocean blue — you have trouble looking at something else, his eyes holding yours intensely. When you finally manage to study his face further you reach his plump lips — red and soft, causing you to shiver once again.

“Like what ya see?” He asks, his tone amused. You nod your head, staring into his eyes once again. A low chuckle leaves his throat, his blue eyes roaming over your face as his tongue darts out, sliding across his beautiful lips. The moment his tongue slips back into his mouth his teeth are visible and you notice the two at the side which don't look like normal teeth — they are sharp, shining white as much as the others but those two are just too sharp for normal teeth.

You swallow thickly, frowning. He notices the slight change in your expression, tilting his head to wait for you to say something or just run away and be scared of him. But you don’t, you only shift in your seat, eyes moving from his lips to his eyes and back to his lips.

“Have you— where did you let your teeth form like that?” You ask, smirking at him. You always had a weakness for vampires, especially in the movies and series you watch but unfortunately they aren’t real and maybe it wouldn’t be too funny to stand in front of a feral vampire?

He growls low, sounding like a laugh mixed with a groan. Your cheeks heat up and you shift in your seat once again. “Not really, I was born with them, not with them but with a smaller version of them.”

You nod your head, not sure if he is joking or not. He really reminds you of those vampires in your series. His skin is so pale and his eyes change sometimes when he smirks they turn into ones that look pretty similar to cat ones. Plus his teeth look just like the ones you saw by vampires.

“Don’t believe me, doll?” He asks, chuckling. His eyes fall to your book and he smirks even wider. “Would you mind changing our place to sit in the shade? Of course, only if you want my company for a while longer.”

“I-I don’t even know your name,” you chuckle, rubbing your hand over the cover of your book as you look into his eyes, still fascinated by them and especially by the mysterious man in front of you. “But if you want we can move to the bench over there?”

The man looks into the direction you point into, a bench underneath a tree is free, a lot of shade and barely sun, like he loves it. With a nod he gets up, holding out his hand for you to grasp and let him pull you up. You place your smaller hand in his, shivering as you see his bright smile the moment he notices that your hand is not only way smaller but feeling also so soft in his rough one.

“Bucky, ya asked for my name, it’s Bucky. Actually James, but ya know,” he chuckles, keeping your hand in his and interlacing your fingers when he walks with you over to the other bench to sit down there and continue talking.

You introduce yourself as well, mumbling his name to see if it feels good when it slips over your lips and it definitely does. He smiles the whole time at you, trying to push his thoughts away, he has waited to get you all for himself for so long now he can’t mess it up with being creepy and scaring you away.

“What do ya paint there? Ya know, I’ve seen ya lookin’ at me all the time,” he asks, nodding at your book. You grip it tighter, unsure if you want to show him or not but he really looks interested.

“I-I draw everything that inspires me, and it was y-you today,” you mumble, opening the book slowly to show him the page you drew him — sitting underneath the tree. Bucky has to admit that your drawing is the most wonderful he has seen in all these years he already lives, and you really caught every detail of him, even the necklace.

You sit there with Bucky, talking about everything and nothing but you still don’t know much about him. The sun goes down slowly, the sky darkening and Bucky has less problems walking around, even asking you to go for a walk with him.

The two of you are already walking half an hour through the park and he is such a sweet and loving man, making sure you’re not freezing and not bored, always finding new things to talk about.

“What about your boyfriend, do you have one? Or your family?” He asks, turning his head slightly, his fingers interlaced with yours and he makes sure to keep your hand right where it belongs, in his, with you by his side.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, not even time for one. And my family? We don’t talk often, they live far away. What about you?” You ask, smirking up at him.

He shakes his head, not needing to say anything. His gaze falls to your hands.

“Think I would be out here and talk to someone if I would have my girl at home?”

“No, but maybe you’re playing around?” You giggle, earning a raised eyebrow from him. The two of you continue walking through the park until you reach the end of it where it leads into a small forest.

You’re surrounded by almost complete darkness by now, only some lamps and the stars and the moon light up the night slightly. The wind is cold, causing you to shiver now and then even though you try to hide it from Bucky — he still notices.

“You’re freezing, let me bring you home to me, it’s not far away, just for the night if you want to,” Bucky mumbles, licking his lips as he waits for you to answer. His intense blue eyes staring down at you, giving you no room to discuss with him.

You nod, giving in to him. Bucky leads you into the forest and suddenly you’re not so sure about following him home but you don’t have a choice, do you? Your home isn’t too close to the park and you don’t want Bucky to bring you all the way home as well, so you prefer being around the mysterious man, at least you feel safe with him.

The walk isn’t too long until you see a big mansion in front of you. It’s in black and gray colors, underlining Bucky’s style even more. Even though it looks just as mysterious as Bucky himself it makes you curious how it looks from the inside, how the man lives.

“Darlin’” he mumbles, stopping you in his tracks when you stand in front of the front door. Bucky’s chest is almost pressed against yours when he looks down at you. “My style is not the usual one you know from people, so don’t be scared when I open the door and you’re greeted by another kind of house and things, understood?”

His tone sounds more serious now, not joking but authority is audible. “Y-yes, trust me, I have seen a lot of different styles already.” When you giggle he nods, unlocking the door and opening it.

You gasp, the house is more like a whole mansion, a long floor with a lot of doors, plus stairs with probably more doors leading into different rooms. You step inside, looking around, it’s all in black and dark gray, it really reminds you of the houses of a vampire and a feeling you haven’t had before creeps up inside of you. Maybe Bucky isn’t the one you thought he is? But there are no such things like vampires, right? They only exist in movies, stories but not in real life.

“Take off your shoes and then follow me, doll,” he says, voice soft again. Bucky just likes the style he has in his house, you’re sure about it. But instead of that he is just a sweetheart, taking care of you and being all nice.

You do as you’re told, placing your shoes next to his before following Bucky who walks along the long floor, opening a door which leads into another big room.

A couch stands in the middle, television and a few pictures on the wall and on the other side of the room is a big shelf with a lot of books. You turn to face him, smirking at him.

“Nerd, huh?” You tease, walking further into the room, followed by Bucky who raises his eyebrows. You giggle, letting yourself fall down on his couch which is surprisingly soft underneath you. “Are you a vampire?”

It was just a teasing and fun question but his sudden change in expression causes a cold shiver down your spine. “No nerd. Vampire is way better,” he smirks, taking a seat next to you. “Would you mind that, sweetheart? Would you mind me being a vampire?”

You giggle, shaking your head. You’re giggling a lot around him and it makes you feel embarrassed sometimes but Bucky enjoys your soft giggles, he even loves when you giggle around him.

“I wouldn’t mind but there are no vampires, but if you would be on I wouldn’t mind that,” you say, turning around to sit with your face and chest to Bucky.

“There aren’t?” He asks, the first time he smiles while showing his teeth to you. A soft gasp leaves your lips, your eyes widen when you notice his sharp teeth once again. “Are you sure about that, doll?”

You nod your head, fascinated by his teeth and eyes which turn slowly yellow. “W-What? Y-you like vampires?”

He chuckles, growling at you. Bucky leans forward with a fast but gentle move; he has his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you closer until his mouth is right next to your ear. His tongue darts out, sliding over his plumb lips causing them to glisten in the light.

“I do like vampires but you’re my favorite, babygirl. And I don’t just like them,” he growls, his tongue touching the edge of your ear, slowly licking down to your earlobe and then lower to your neck. The moment his soft lips touch your skin he smirks at your goosebumps, gracing his sharp teeth over your soft skin.

“B-Bucky,” you whine, not exactly knowing what you’re begging for — it just slipped past your slightly parted lips. “Please.”

He moves away from you, his hand sliding to the front of your neck and he grabs it in a firm hold. Bucky leans back to look into your eyes, letting his eyes roam over your face for a second before he stares straight into your eyes.

“What is it, doll? What do you want me to do? Claim you, make sure to show everyone that you’re mine? Because that’s what you are, you’re mine and only mine,” he growls, smirking when you whimper.

Your eyes widen once again, you didn’t think he would say things — that he thinks those things — and as hard as it is to believe that he is a vampire you suddenly feel like he really means it.

“Y-you really are a-a vampire? Y-you’re real?” You gasp, mouth drops open when you once again stare at his sharp teeth, earning a soft chuckle followed by a nod.

“That’s what I am, darling,” he chuckles deep in his throat, his expression amused. “You said you wouldn’t mind that.”

He adores — he loves your widened eyes and open mouth, still trusting him because you don’t back away, letting him hold you close, his hand wrapped around your neck. Bucky growls, he wants you so bad, he needs you — he can’t stand other men looking at you and thinking they could have you — Bucky has seen the way the man looked at you with hungry gazes, ready to get you into their bed. But you’re Bucky’s, only Bucky’s.

“A-Are you- do-?” You stumble over your own words, swallowing thickly before clearing your throat. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Bucky’s eyes widen, he immediately shakes his head. “No! Never! I couldn’t, I would never hurt you, unless you ask me to do it, babydoll. But I need you, need you to be mine, want you to be mine,” he says, leaning closer until his lips almost brush yours. You whine, eyes flutter shut when you feel his warm breath on your lips, you want to feel them, taste him.

A soft grunt works his way up his throat as he sees your expression and the way you’re giving in to him already. Bucky knows you’re perfect for him, his babydoll.You wonder what his intentions are but he answers your unspoken question when he leans even closer.

“I want you to be mine, can’t stand the thought of some other man staring at you. I saw you for the first time on a rainy day when you went home from work and I couldn’t stop staring at you. You’re so perfect, I need you, need you to be mine, need to be yours, please, doll,” he mumbles against your lips, his eyes roaming over yours and your nose, waiting for you to answer.

You don’t know what came into your mind to react like that but you couldn’t hold back — you need to feel him. So you lean closer, pressing your lips softly against his plumb ones. Bucky smirks, moving his lips as lovingly and gently as he can against yours. A soft moan escapes your lips and Bucky uses the moment to bring his tongue into the kiss, making every feeling even more intense but still loving.

After a moment he pulls away, smiling at you. He lets his tongue run over his lips again, tasting your sweet scent on them. You can’t still taste his fresh minty taste on your tongue, and the two of you are already addicted to one another.

“Is that kind of magic?” The chuckle he lets out at your question causes even more butterflies in your stomach. In case it’s magic, it’s the best magic you have ever seen and felt. Better than every card trick, hat trick or whatever, Bucky’s magic would be the most beautiful.

But he shakes his head — no magic. “That’s love, doll, nothing but pure love,” he says, grinning at you with the most adorable smile you have ever seen.

You and Bucky are sitting on the couch a while longer, you have too many questions to be able to sleep without having half of them answered by him. And Bucky gladly answers them, trying to explain everything to you as best as he can.

There would be people who would have pushed him away and would have preferred the dark forest instead of a vampire but Bucky is so much more than a blood-hungry vampire — he is loving, gentle, cares and sweet to you — so much more than every man in your life before Bucky.

“Any more questions, babydoll?” He asks, his hand moving up and down your thigh. You shake your head, stopping in your tracks as something comes into your mind. “What is it?”

“Can you kiss me again?”

Bucky chuckles, bringing his hand back to your cheek, his long fingers wrapping around your head, pulling you closer. “Close your eyes,” he whispers, smirking when you obey.

He inhales your sweet scent deeply, pressing his lips gently against yours. The first movement is sweet but then his eyes shoot open and he pulls away, gasping, his breath heavy. You giggle softly until his eyes turn dark, his thumb from his free hand running over his lips and wiping away your mixed saliva with a bit of your blood.

“F-Fuck, darling,” he pants. His instinct tells him to just push you backwards and claim you already but he knows he shouldn’t without your permission. But isn't wanting to kiss him after biting your own lip bloody a kind of permission? “Need you so bad, fuck. Be mine, love, let me make you mine, be with me forever.”

With every other man you would have told him to calm down and make sure you’re dating. But with Bucky? He got your attention the moment he sat there in the shade of the tree earlier that day and being around him makes everything inside of your tingle, causing you to be happy — to be free. Being with Bucky feels like everything you thought would always be a dream but now it’s true, you’re there with a guy who wants you — with a vampire who wants to be yours.

“Babydoll? ‘m sorry,” he mumbles, ready to let go of your cheek but you grasp his hand and hold it in place. “Can I? Can I make you mine, forever?”

You nod softly, smiling at him. He told you that if a vampire is bonding with someone they will stay together forever. It’s a promise normal humans can’t do, but the imagination of you and Bucky forever is something you would love to make real and he is willing to do that — so who are you to deny his request?

“You know I have only one bed anyway, so it makes that even easier because you will stay in my bed with me from now on anyway,” he chuckles. His hand slides down your cheek to your chin, grasping it gently to tilt your head up. “You’re mine, you hear me? Gonna protect you, from everyone’s gaze, from everyone, even your boss who should have been way nicer to you, babydoll.”

You chuckle, sliding your small hand over his big, broad chest. His muscles tensing underneath your soft touch. You can feel his heart beating faster as your hand rests on his chest, feeling his thick muscles flexing underneath your touch.

Bucky sits up straighter, towering over you now. And it’s perfect, so thick and muscular, perfect to protect you from everything, he could pick you up and carry you wherever he wants without effort. And that’s what he does, getting off the couch, placing his hands underneath your thighs to lift you up.

“Look at you, looking all small and pretty in my arms, yeah! That’s what you like, don’t you, sweetheart? You love feeling all protected by me,” he growls, kissing your cheek down to your neck as you tilt your head to the side giving him more space.

Without realizing Bucky walks through the room and into another one, you’re not sure where it is because you’re feeling too good in Bucky’s arms. He carries you through the house, peppering kisses along your neck and jawline but leaving you desperate for more, for his taste. Desperate to feel his lips against yours.

Bucky’s sharp teeth scratch carefully over your sensitive skin, causing you to whine and squirm in his arms. You’ve never felt that desperate, especially not with a man.

He placed you on the bed, it’s comfortable and soft. You let yourself fall down on your back, smiling at him while he takes off his shirt. Bucky reveals his broad, hairy chest, smirking at the way your eyes roam over his thick chest and abs muscles. He then unbuckles his belt, letting his pants fall down on the ground, the sound of the metal hitting the ground echoes through the room but neither of you cares.

Your eyes wander lower to his still covered crotch, his bulge visible through the thin fabric and your mouth immediately waters. Bucky’s not only thick but also big down there. Just as his chest his thighs look perfectly fine but as much as hurry you can’t help but stare at his still growing cock.

“You like what you see, doll? How about we help you out of your sweet outfit so I’m not the only one being almost naked here?” He asks, getting a soft whimper from you. Bucky smirks, knowing that you want him to take off his boxers but he doesn’t want to give you that just yet, first he wants to admire your body.

The vampire walks slowly toward you, crawling onto the bed and almost towering above you. He grasps your ankles, your back rests against the headboard and you smile at him but he pulls you down by your ankles to reach your pants. Bucky opens them, pushing them down and leaving you in your shirt and a pair of panties as he spreads your legs to get in between them.

Bucky smirks, running his fingers from your thigh up to your hips and further underneath your shirt. He curls the hem of the shirt around his thick fingers, with one smooth movement he has ripped it into pieces and throws it somewhere into the room.

Before you can protest he shushes you, his thumb tracing your lips before he pushes it inside your mouth, letting you suck his thumb. You twirl your tongue around it, moaning at his taste.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He growls, grinning at you. Bucky lets his fingers slide out of your mouth again, smearing your saliva over your lips before removing his hand completely. “Stay quiet, let me admire you a bit, can you do that, doll?”

You nod your head, your eyes roaming over his face as he brings his fingers to your bra. He rips it open, smirking at your soft gasp once again, Bucky should definitely find out some more ways to bring those pretty, sweet gasps out of you. The vampire brings his big hands to your chest, grasping both of your tits in his hands, massaging them with a firm but still soft grip.

Soft moans and whimpers leave your lips, his fingers pinching your nipples, causing you to arch your back and press more against Bucky. He growls, leaning his head down, gracing his teeth over the soft swell of your breast.

“B-Bucky, pl-“

“Shh, shh, told you to be quiet for me, babydoll,” he shushes, biting softly into your skin but taking care to not hurt you with his sharp teeth. His hands slide further down your body to your panties, his lips all over your chest and stomach. “Can I take them off?”

You nod, bucking your hips. He chuckles low in his throat, grasping the thin fabric of your panties and helping you out of them. His eyes immediately fall to your pussy, darkening as his tongue darts out and wets his lips.

You squirm under his intense gaze, trying to close your legs but Bucky is still between your legs, his big form keeping you spread out for him. Bucky runs one of his hands down to your folds, parting them while he runs his fingers through your wetness, cursing under his breath.

“Fucking pretty, wanna taste you, all of you, babydoll,” he mumbles, dipping two of his thick fingers into your tight cunt, groaning when he doesn’t even fit inside of you. “Look at ya, too tight to take my fingers, so fucking tight — perfect.”

He slowly presses one of his digits into you, your pussy is gripping his one finger already tight enough to not make much movements. Even though your wetness is dripping out of you, your cunt is too tight for him, especially for his cock.

You’re moaning underneath him, pressing yourself further against him but he doesn’t push his finger into you completely, just the tip of it. “B-Bucky, please, need you.”

The vampire shakes his head, his eyes roaming over your body up to your face. He smirks, removing his finger once again before pushing a bit more of it into you. After a moment of entering you more with his finger he places his thumb on your clit, causing a shriek to creep up your throat and leave your lips.

You have never felt such a sensation and Bucky’s finger working you open, curling inside of you and scratching along your tight walls plus his thumb on your clit causes the pleasure to rush through your body over and over again.

He is bringing you closer and closer to the edge, his smirk is spread across his face when he notices your legs shaking. Your breath gets heavier and he can say you’re close. The coil in your stomach feels like it’s going to snap at any second, Bucky’s finger inside of you curling over and over again, hitting your sweet spot while his thumb is pressing down on your clit.

“Come for me, babygirl. All over my fingers, make a mess, come on,” he grumbles, his eyes focused on your face to get every little scrunch of your nose, every part of your eyes and mouth when you come apart in his finger.

With your fingers digging into the sheets underneath you, your mouth falls open and your eyes shut the moment the coil inside of you snaps and your pussy clenches violently around Bucky's digit. He continues to rub your sensitive bundle of nerves until you grasp his hand and try to stop him from moving it.

“T-too much, please,” you whine. The vampire looks down at his hand, smirking at the mess you made all over his hand and the sheets. With a soft movement to not stimulate your sensitive cunt anymore he pulls out of you.

“Did so well for me, so fucking tight. Can’t even get my fingers into you without struggling, how will you manage to get my cock into your sweet cunt, darling?” He chuckles, teasing you about your tightness a bit more. “Good girl, such a good girl.”

Bucky brings his fingers to his lips, grinning at you as his tongue touches his fingers and he sucks your sweet juices off his finger. A low — almost animatic groan leaves his lips when he swallows it, you taste so fucking good and he can’t get enough. He would love to just lie down and bury his face in your pussy until you can’t take it anymore, whining and whimpering underneath him.

“Please, need you, try it, please,” you mumble, leaning up to hold on to him and pull him down with you but only then you notice he is still wearing boxer briefs. “Take ‘em off, please, Bucky.”

The brown haired chuckles, his finger slips out of his mouth with a ‘plop’. He then hooks them into the waistband of his boxers and shoves them down. Bucky’s rock hard cock springs free, the red tip is leaking pre-cum and you almost moan at the sight.

His cock is big and so thick, you’re really not sure if he fits into you. Bucky’s balls are just as big, hanging down, full with cum and ready to pump every bit of it into your pussy.

“You sure you want that, doll?” He asks, smirking when your eyes are glassy and your hands around his thick muscular biceps to make sure he won’t move away from you. You nod slightly, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer but he is too strong for you to move him closer. “Aww, doll, so impatient. Lemme grab a condom or else we'll get little bats flying around here soon.”

Your eyes widen. “Bats? You’re kidding right?”

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head. “They wouldn’t be able to turn into bats immediately but once they are older they can do that, I can too! I would show you but I’m so comfortable in between your legs right now.”

With another smirk he leans to the small drawer next to the bed, opening it. Bucky brings the condom to his mouth, ripping the package open with one of his sharp teeth. He then rolls it down his thick length and throws the package away.

“So… now you can get back to begging for me to fuck you, sweetheart,” he says, rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your wet folds. “Come on, doll, beg for my cock.”

You roll your eyes playfully. Maybe you could just act like you’re not interested and he would push into you to show you you need him inside of you? Or maybe you do as you’re told and beg for his cock?

He sees the hesitation in your eyes, a low groan slips past his lips and he brings the tip of his cock to your entrance, pushing in slowly. “Come on, beg for my cock, sweet girl.”

“Bucky, please?” You try, whimpering as he pushes his big tip further into you. “F-fuck, please, need to feel you.”

He chuckles, moving forward, bringing his body to tower over you. You look so adorable underneath him, so small and cute, a few strands of your hair in your face. Bucky wipes them out of your face, smirking down at you before he presses his lips against yours.

The moment his soft lips move against yours he thrusts his thick dick with one smooth movement into you, causing you to gasp and bite his lips harshly. He growls, staying in place to give you a moment to adjust to his size.

“That’s what you like? Being fucked rough until you’re nothing but a whimpering and moaning mess underneath me?” He asks, rolling his hips against yours and earning a moan.

Your mouth drops open when he leans back slightly, admiring your face. You’re so perfect for him — Bucky will never let you go anymore, keeping you all for himself and protecting you from all and everything that could possibly hurt you.

After a moment and your nodding head he starts thrusting into you, soft and slow. His balls slapping against your ass and you whimper and moan by every thrust of his cock into you. His tip is kissing your cervix, over and over again — you didn’t even know this is possible since no one ever hit that spot in you before but Bucky does and it feels just so good.

Your walls clench around his pulsating length, sucking him in deeper. Bucky lets his head fall down against your shoulder, inhaling your sweet scent. An animalistic sound leaves his lips, your scent too sweet to not just slam his teeth into you and mark you as his — but he can’t, he can’t do it without your permission, without you knowing that you will be his forever.

“You smell so good,” he groans, kissing your neck. “I want to make you mine, want to claim you, babydoll.”

“Do it! Bite me, make me yours, forever, Bucky,” you whine, moving your hips against his. His breath is hot and heavy against your neck but he shakes his head. His tongue slides over your soft skin, taking in your sweet taste before he sucks at your skin, trying to get as much of you as he can without biting you.

“Can’t, doll. I can’t, you don’t know the consequences of it, I just—“ He gets interrupted when you turn your face to his neck, your fingers digging into his shoulders to hold him close. Your grin, opening your mouth to bite hard into his neck, his hips snap forward, and he moans followed by a low groan.

You giggle as he turns to face you, his eyes darkened even more, his tongue darts out and his teeth are visible. “You don’t know what you’re doing, do you? Darlin’ makin’ me go crazy with biting me? Don’t you know the consequences when you bite me?”

“I do know, but I want you to do it, please. Bucky, I want to be yours, forever. I know what it means if you bite me, but please. Bite me and cum, please,” you beg, fingers digging more into his muscular shoulders while his whole body tenses at your words.

“That’s what you want, doll? Are you sure?” He asks, trying his best to control himself but he doesn’t want to do something you haven’t thought about, he doesn’t want to force you into it.

You nod your head, earning a harsh slap on your tits. “Words, babydoll! I need you to answer me properly or else I won’t do it,” he says, smirking at your yelp.

“Please, I want you to do it. I need you to do it, I’m so close, please, Bucky,” you whine, moving with him while he brings you closer to the edge.

Bucky himself feels the coil in his stomach tightening as well. Your pussy is constantly squeezing his cock tightly, making it almost impossible for him to move inside of you.

He nods, inhaling deeply before sliding his tongue across his sharp teeth and being one of his hands to your chin, tilting your head. The brown haired man doesn’t wait any longer, he smirks and bites into your neck, his sharp teeth cutting your skin and causing blood to flow into his mouth.

Bucky hums at your sweet taste, better as everything he has ever tried. The moment your blood flows into his mouth and his teeth dig deeper into your neck you feel a sensation through your body that’s the most pleasing feeling ever.

You both come at the same time, his teeth still in your neck while his cock rams into you, twitching. Bucky’s balls slapping against your ass, a low groan in his throat when he comes in the condom. Your cunt is pulsating around him, when you come with him, moaning loudly and gripping his shoulders.

The vampire doesn’t let go of your neck until you’re both calmed down from your orgasms. He then lets go of it, swallowing thickly with still your taste in his tongue. Bucky licks over the part where he just bit you, causing the wound to heal immediately — the only sign that he bit and claimed you a scar where his teeth were deep in your neck.

“Now you’re mine, babydoll,” he smirks, slowly pulling out of you. His eyes are locked with yours when you look with lust and desire into his ocean blue ones. “Mine forever now, protect you from all and everything that could hurt or disturb you.”

“You know I’m gonna bite your neck just as hard as you bite mine,” you giggle, hands moving to his neck and pulling him down.

You press your lips against his, moaning when his cock slides through your folds once again — hard and leaking. A soft chuckle works its way up your throat when you feel it, reaching down to pull the condom off his cock and place his cock at your entrance once again.

Bucky looks at you with an raised eyebrow, asking for permission to be sure you want him to fuck you raw. “Please, but this time it’s on me to bite you and make you mine too!”

The night is filled with a lot more orgasm and you find pit that this man has a lot stamina to go a while night with fucking you through one after another orgasm. And just as you, he has your mark on his neck now as well, and he will show it to everyone like it’s a trophy — because for him it is, it’s to show everyone that he found the love of his life — the endless love.

You couldn’t be happier, Bucky is the sweetest and softest man you could have asked for, and spending eternity with him is the most perfect idea you could have dreamed of. And just as he promised he keeps you safe. Plus loved, like you’re the most adorable and precious thing he has ever had, the most important in his life — because you are exactly that for your sweet, loving Bucky.

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 1 month ago

Text

Oh hell, my heart... This is tearing at my resolve, but I love it! They both have been thinking about this so long so it’s great they got to talk things out but damn, it made me feel so much. Thank you! ♡

All These Things That I've Done

Summary : In which Bucky leaves behind a loving note every time he goes on a mission. But what happens when you stumble on a letter not meant to be found… yet?

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader (she/her)

Warnings : cursing, mentions of death

Requested by : myself haha

Word count : 2.7k

Note : This is just angsty fluff with a happy ending, really. It was inspired by a song by the Killers of the same title. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

You woke up in the early hours of dawn, the sunlight filtering softly through the sheer curtains, blanketing warmth over the room. You rolled over, expecting to find Bucky beside you, but your hand touched only a tangle of sheets.

Shit. What day was it? You glanced toward the calendar on the wall, and your stomach dropped. Of course. He was supposed to leave for some sort of extraction mission today.

You couldn’t deny the worry rising in your throat. You knew deep down, James Buchanan Barnes was one of the most skilled fighters on the planet. Sam always reminded you of that the last time you saw him, as if he knew how much you worried. He’d battled alien armies and come out with only a few scratches. A mission like this? It ought to be a piece of cake. You pushed anxiety back down your stomach.

The room was eerily quiet, almost haunting. You heard a soft thud from the hallway, followed by Bucky’s muttering to himself from the other side of the slightly open bedroom door. “Where did I leave my gloves?”

You smiled at his gruff frustration and shouted out just loud enough for him to hear, “Did you check the dryer?”

There was silence before you heard a cluster of steps, and then his voice echoed back through from the washing room, “Got it!”

His footsteps made their way back to you as Bucky appeared in the doorway, fully suited up in his gear. He was strapping the glove onto his human hand, his vibranium arm reflecting in the morning light. You couldn’t help but admire him, eyeing him from top to bottom, your breath hitching at how effortlessly handsome he looked in his tactical suit.

“Morning, doll,” he said with that half-smile that always made your heart flutter like a million little butterflies simultaneously beating their wings.

You sat up, rubbing your eyes as he walked over. He reached the edge of the bed, sitting down next to you. He leaned down to brush a strand of hair away from your face and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, making your chest warm with joy. “I didn't mean to wake you up.” He apologised.

“You didn’t,” you mumbled, still groggy from a dreamless sleep. With a tired smile, you asked, “Did you hide the note yet?”

It was a tradition the two of you had started long ago: before every mission, Bucky would leave you a little note, something for you to find while he was away. A scavenger hunt, if you will, to keep you occupied, to remind you he was always thinking of you. Sometimes the notes were practical—like ‘Don’t forget to drink water while I’m gone.’ Other times, they were a bit longer and heartfelt, and it made you feel closer to him even when he was far—even when you couldn’t feel the warmth of his touch and feel the joy in his kiss.

“Of course,” he replied, chuckling. “First thing I did this morning.”

You reached for his hand, your fingers tracing the edges of his gloved palm, craving the feeling of his bare skin. “Be careful out there, okay?”

He leaned down again, this time pressing a kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered a little longer than usual. “Always am,” he murmured, but you could hear the slight uncertainty in his voice, one that you noticed only because you knew him inside out. You could detect the slightest change of inflection, of intention, in his voice. He’d been like this for the last few missions, and you’d be lying if it hadn’t made you a bit more weary. A bit more on edge.

—

Later that evening, after a long day at work, you found the note.

You had been looking around your shared home, sighing at how empty it felt. How it didn’t feel like home without the love of your life echoing the walls with his laughter, filling the air with his scent. You had missed him so much already.

When you found the note, you had been checking for loose change in your jacket pockets. It was tucked neatly into one of them, and you couldn’t help but smile as you pulled it out, unfolding the familiar handwriting. You always wore this jacket in a specific weather—when the sun was shining and it was windy enough. When you were certain it would not rain. You smiled, knowing Bucky would have had to check the forecast to make sure he put it in the right jacket for you.

The stress of the day melted away in that moment, replaced by a gentle warmth that spread through your chest. His notes always had a way of making everything better.

This one was short but sweet:

‘Don’t miss me too much. I’ll be home before you know it.’

You smiled, your fingers brushing over the soft texture of paper. Lately, he had been cutting the edges to soften the paper after you told him you got paper cut from one of them.

How had you not noticed it in your pocket all day? Perhaps you had just been distracted. Still, the idea that his words had been with you the whole time made you feel like he’d been by your side, even though he was probably on a different continent by now. You took a deep breath, walking up to your bedroom. You folded it neatly before tucking the note into the small box on your nightstand—the box where you kept all of his letters. By now, there were dozens of small reminders of his love for you.

You sat on the edge of the bed and opened the box, pulling out a few more letters. You took your time to read through them.

‘Don’t forget to take care of yourself. I know you get so wrapped up in work that you forget. I’ll bring you back something special.’

‘You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Thank you for being patient with me.’

‘When I get back, can we try the new coffee shop down the street? Don’t go without me.’

You chuckled softly at one of the more recent ones.

‘I may be a super soldier, but I still can’t fold a fitted sheet for shit. You’ll have to show me again when I get home.’

Oh, what a wonderful boyfriend you had.

—

Two days later, the ache in your chest had only grown. You missed Bucky so dearly, and you were starting to struggle to keep yourself busy from the overwhelming emotions.

But your worries weren’t yours alone. In the past few weeks, you have noticed subtle changes in Bucky. He was quieter than usual, his smiles a little less frequent. There were moments when he seemed far away, lost in thoughts he didn’t share. You’d catch him staring out the window or slipping away into the early morning hours, as if trying to outrun something you couldn’t see. You didn’t want to press him, not when it was clear he was trying to handle it on his own. But now, in the silence of the empty house, the signs of his unease gnawed at you.

Cleaning the apartment helped, at least for a little while. But as you organised his things, you found another note.

It was not hidden in the usual places, not anywhere you would even think to look, therefore not one he expected you to find.

You wondered why the note was tucked deep into the back of one of his drawers, behind all his mission files that he’d stay up late to read up on. The edges were rounded, so you knew that this would have been somewhat recent.

There was something different about it. Folded smaller than usual, like it wasn’t meant to be found just yet. Or maybe ever.

Your heart raced as you unfolded it, curiosity getting the best of you. It was a note, right? If it was meant for you, why did you feel so guilty opening it?

But nothing could have prepared you for the words written inside.

‘If you’re reading this, it means I didn’t make it back.

I’m sorry. I tried to be careful. I always try to come home to you every time. But I knew there’d be a day when I wouldn’t make it.

Maybe this is for the best. You deserve so much better than what I can give you. You deserve better than someone with blood on his hands. You deserve someone who isn’t always living with one foot in the grave.

Please don’t waste your time mourning me. Move on. Be happy. Go get yourself someone who can give you the life you deserve. Anyone would be lucky to be loved by you.

I love you more than anything in the world.’

Your hands trembled as the letter fell from your fingers, tears already welling up in your eyes.

The words on the note blurred as your tears fell. You tried to convince yourself that it was just Bucky’s fear talking, not a premonition. But a voice in the back of your mind whispered, What if he’s right? What if one day he doesn't come back?

What if he’s not coming back?

You’d always been confident about Bucky's ability to survive on his missions. Sure, you’d worry about the odd wound or if he’d get a scar that needed constant medical attention, but death was, more often than not, off the cards. Now that you knew he thought of it, that’s all you could think about.

Bucky had always been so good at hiding this fear. You knew something was off, but you always thought that he was just a bit nervous, that’s all.

But here, it was laid bare in his own handwriting.

It broke your heart that he had already resigned himself to the idea that one day he wouldn’t come home. That his death was inevitable. And worse, that he believed it would be better off that way.

—

The days dragged on painfully long after you found the note. Every time your phone buzzed, your heart raced uncontrollably. You were expecting news—good or bad—but it was always something else. Work. Or people checking up on you.

So you used them as a distraction. You threw yourself to work, met with friends, and did anything to stop your worries, but nothing worked.

Each night, the bed felt colder and lonelier, the house quieter than you would have preferred. Anxiety has already started eating you up and swallowing you whole.

To your relief, Bucky returned a few days later, safe but exhausted. You heard the door click open, and before he could say anything, you rushed to his side, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your face into his chest, taking in his scent. As he shut the door and dropped his bag, your fingers fluttered on his back, making sure he was real. Then you sunk your palm into him as if he might slip away, as if his life depended on it.

He held you tight, rubbing slow circles on your back, his voice soft in your ear, taken aback by your reaction. You usually cracked a joke or two, or excitedly kissed him on his arrival. “Hey, I’m here. I’m okay.”

Your body was tense—almost skeletal—against his. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding, then quietly said, “I found it. The note.”

His face froze. He knew which one, but he had to ask. “Which one?”

“The one I shouldn’t be reading,” you paused hesitantly, “…yet.”

Bucky’s expression fell into oblivion, looking pale and empty. He looked away. “I didn’t want you to find that,” he murmured.

Tears stung your eyes as you gripped his jacket tighter. “How long have you been carrying this stupid fucking idea that every mission is your last?”

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words to communicate how he felt. “A couple of months. It’s just how I think now,” he admitted, his voice heavy, raspy. “Every mission feels like it could be the one. And if it is... ” He trailed off, his emotions hanging in the air like a death sentence waiting to be dealt. “Maybe it’s better that way. You deserve someone who can give you a normal life.”

You reached for his hand, stifling quiet sobs, squeezing it tight. “How could you possibly say that? Do you have any idea what it feels like to know you’ve already accepted that you might not come back?”

“There've been a couple of close calls,” he admitted with a heavy heart, and this was the first time you’ve heard of this. You could tell he was just blurting out words, trying to string together an explanation as best he could. “What I’m saying is, If I were out of the picture, you wouldn’t have to worry about these things.”

You sighed, trying to steady your voice but not succeeding. “I don’t want that. I want you, James.” His first name sounded gentle in your tongue. It sounded like a longing, like a cry.

His gaze dropped to the floor, tears brimming in his eyes. “You deserve better.”

He whispered it again, your name escaping his lips like a prayer. Your heart ached. This man, who had fought battles no one could imagine, who had survived horrors and rebuilt himself piece by piece, still didn’t believe he was worth loving.

You took a steadying breath and shook your head, cupping his face gently. “You don’t get to decide what’s better,” you whispered firmly. “Do not tell me what I do or don’t deserve.”

His hands slipped from your waist, almost helpless. You were not letting him lock himself out again, not when you had the chance to pull him out for good.

“Look at me,” you said, a little sharper now, forcing him to meet your gaze, looking into his stormy eyes that once looked as blue as clear skies. “You’ve spent years carrying the weight of everything you’ve done. You’re not that man anymore, Bucky. Deep down, you must know that too.”

He shook his head, his voice hoarse. “I’m always going to be that man. I can’t just erase that.”

“No,” you agreed, and your hand slipped down to rest against his chest, right over his heart. “But you’re also this man—the man who leaves me little notes before every mission. The man who gets frustrated when he can’t find his gloves. The man who cannot fold a fitted sheet to save his life.” You let a chuckle escape your tight chest, and it coaxed a little, hopeful smile from him, too.

“And I love all of you,” you continued. “The parts you think are broken—I love them all. So stop trying to push me away like you’re some kind of lost cause, because you’re not.”

You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, your lips lingering there before pulling back just enough to meet his eyes again. “Talk to me. Let me help. You don’t have to carry this alone, Bucky. But this note—this can’t be the way I find out about these things.”

His lips quivered, and you could feel the cracks in his fortress gate starting to open.

His arms wrapped around you in a desperate embrace.

After what felt like silent eternity, Bucky finally spoke, his voice rough with traces of a fragile kind of hope. “I don’t know if I can believe it all right now. But,” he gulped down a sob, “I’ll try. For you.”

“No,” you insisted, an encouraging smile on your lips that made his heart stutter, “for yourself.”

He nodded weakly, and that was enough.

For a moment, you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside could be burning down, and you wouldn’t care as long as he was safe.

Eventually, Bucky loosened his grip just enough to look down at you, his fingers brushing softly against your cheek. “You sure you want to put up with all this?” He just had to ask. “No take-backs.”

You laughed softly—a cathartic release, the sound filling the quiet room. You nodded, “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

For now, it didn’t matter that he didn’t truly think he was worthy of love yet.

For now, you could believe for the both of you.

And one day, maybe he’d believe it too.

-end

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 1 month ago

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Angstober (day 16)

Pairing: Tfatws!Bucky x Shield!Reader

Prompt: No one else to turn to

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, fainting

Author’s note: I'm a little behind with the fics but I'm trying my best! Hope you enjoy :)

Angstober Masterlist

This is ironic, really.

Downright absurd. Laughable.

You’re just not in the position to laugh, or even crack the semblance of a smile. Your face feels stiff, evidently held together by a fragile patchwork of cuts and bruises that might split open at the slightest twitch. Not that you’d want to smile, even if you could.

You had assured Sam that you’d be fine to drive yourself back home after landing back on base about 25 minutes before. There actually had been a genuine belief that you’d be able to make it, so you told him all you needed was a hot shower to wash away all the blood and some rest, ignoring the wary looks of Sam as he watched you drive off.

Well, turns out it was a bad idea.

A terrible idea, considering the door you find yourself standing in front of right now. You don’t even know if he’s home. For all you know, he could be drowning whatever’s left of his sanity in some bar, down some street.

And even if he is here, he has every right to slam this door right back in your face. Perhaps after giving you the I told you so speech.

But in your defense, you really thought this mission would be simple. Sam and you both had thought so. It was supposed to be one of those in-and-out deals. But of course, it’s always those easy missions that turn ugly in a matter of seconds, spiraling into a slaughter that neither of you was ready for.

But hell, you even guessed Bucky saw that coming. Maybe that’s why he was so determined to join you two, but Sam and you declined immediately, insisting on sparing him the confrontation. After all, it was supposed to be a quick cleanup. Hydra remnants scattered like dust, nothing worth dragging Bucky back into that mess for.

So, Sam and you both figured he’d be better off staying behind, working with Torres on whatever else needed doing.

You’re glad you held back the comment about him hindering you on this mission by perhaps a disturbing memory or some shit. That wouldn’t have helped your current situation at all. And you did think it would have been a little harsh. Even for the bickering kind of relationship the two of you have.

Bucky wasn’t having any of that. He was ready to suit up and follow you into the fray, whether you wanted him there or not. Though, Sam and you took off before he could even strap on his gear. Simple, clean.

Predictably, that would definitely leave him in a foul mood. But to be real, grumpy isn’t new for Bucky. Actually, you only ever saw his expression soften when he was lost in thought, so lost he didn’t even notice you watching him. Or perhaps in that moment he really didn’t care.

Still, that irritable look seems to be his default setting. And, to be honest, perhaps he doesn’t even care enough to even be mad. You aren’t friends. Hell, you wouldn’t even call him an acquaintance.

You two are more like tolerated inconveniences for each other, sparse conversations always laced with sarcasm and banter. You doubt he sees you as anything other than a nuisance - someone always getting under his skin with your remarks.

So, you are well aware you really don’t have any business standing in front of his door, blood drying on your skin, looking like death warmed over.

But that’s the problem. You don’t have a choice. Because there is no way you’re making the 20 minutes to your apartment. You also won’t make it back to the base. Not to mention that driving in this state will not only endanger you, but rather the traffic around you. You're already feeling the blackness that tries to seep into your irises, pulling at your consciousness, threatening to drag you under, making you pass out before you’d even hit the halfway mark. And you don’t have anyone to blame but your stubborn self.

Bucky is your only option and you also start running out of time, the longer you linger outside his apartment, scared to knock. Terrified to do anything. You begin to sway on your feet. The longer you hesitate, the harder it gets to stay upright, and passing out on his doorstep for him to find you is perhaps even more embarrassing than this already is.

With trembling muscles, you try to lift your hand. Knocking on a door shouldn’t take this much effort, but it feels like it’s costing you everything. You’re burning energy you don’t have, and it’s starting to show.

Your hesitation seems to have been for nothing since there’s no answer after your knock. The only thing you hear is the blood rushing through your ears and your heartbeat loudly pounding against your ribcage, almost like a warning.

Another knock. It saps what little strength you have left. Your breathing grows heavier, more ragged, each inhale feeling like a sharp stab. There is a tightness in your chest that could be an indication something inside you might have torn, making it impossible to get in enough air.

The apartment behind the door is still silent.

You lean your forehead against the rough wood, the coolness grounding you for a moment. It’s as close to a third knock as you can manage. Your eyes slip closed for just a second too long.

“Barnes?” He surely wouldn’t be able to pick that up without his enhanced hearing. “It’s me.”

You’re not even sure what to say; not sure what you can say that will get him to open the door. But your thoughts are starting to slow, each one taking longer to form than the last. The blood loss is getting to you, causing every joint to feel like it’s rusting over.

“Are you home?” you murmur, a faint laugh caught in your throat at how stupid it sounds.

For a moment you think you hear something, perhaps a faint shuffle from the other side of the door. But your brain is swimming in exhaustion and pain, and it could easily be your mind playing tricks on you, teasing you with false hope. Maybe you didn’t even give him enough time to get to the door. You have no idea how long you’ve been standing here - standing might be too strong of a term by now.

Time is slippery in moments like these, hard to grasp, impossible to track.

A heavy and burning sigh falls from your lips, dragging your chest down with it. You push yourself off the door with a struggle that tears at your skin, shaking your head at your own stupidity. You’re not sure if your head even followed through with the movement.

You shouldn’t have believed for a second that he’d be around, or that he’d care if he was.

You attempt to step away, aiming for the staircase, but it seems your body isn’t in the mood to listen to any signal from your brain at all. Your foot catches on itself, and before you know it, you stumble, crashing into the wall beside his door with a loud thud. A pained groan forces its way out of you, the impact shooting excruciating vibrations through your body, curling into every nerve like they’re planning to stay. You press a hand to your side, movements not entirely your own, but it does nothing to soothe the ache.

You curse under your breath, or at least you think you do, eyes fluttering dangerously. You’re not sure how much longer your feet will carry you. Are you even still standing at all?

Muffled curses break through the rushing sound in your ears, blending into the tumultuous pulse of your own blood pounding in your head. They don’t seem to come from you though.

“Fucking hell, Y/n.”

All you can manage in response is another weak groan.

Before you can fully process what’s happening and where that frustrated voice came from, you feel strong arms wrap around you, lifting you effortlessly into the air. Insanely enough, a surge of exhilaration bubbles in your belly and you feel weightless for a moment, like you’re floating in some strange void that’s just barely tethering you to reality but still keeping a strong grasp on you.

The sensation is short-lived and you almost let out a whine. Not at all from the pain. You’re lowered onto something softer than you guessed the floor would feel like, cushions beneath your back. You try to wrap your head around how that could have happened.

That weight returns. The hands around you, however, don’t leave you. Your thoughts are sluggish and trying to focus on anything is an effort you’re not able to keep up with. Your vision is a spinning blur, dizzy head trying to make sense of your situation, but you can feel the tender press of the back of a hand on your forehead, checking for something you can’t quite grasp.

Blue. That’s the first thing your mind manages to hang on to. A vivid, piercing shade of blue. But it’s not just color. It’s wrapped up in something deeper. Emotions, swirling and twirling, so heavy it almost hurts to look at. The sight alone drags another groan out of you, low and pained.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. Just hold tight, you hear me? I got you.”

Wait.

You know that voice. Rough around the edges, always carrying a certain weight, but now laced with something you don’t recognize. Those eyes on you - the blue ones - you know those, too. Of course, you do. But there is something new, something like panic flooding them, you never thought you’d see in Bucky Barnes.

“Barnes?” The word barely falls from your lips, more of a croak than anything, but it’s enough. He was home. He heard you. He carried you inside.

There is something stirring inside of you, a warmth threading through the pain. Relief, maybe, or something close to it. You know Bucky and you have your problems sometimes but hell you never doubted him being the good man he is.

“Yes, it’s me,” he murmurs, so soft, you want to lay in it. Bathing in the gentleness of his voice, getting rid of the blood and pain your body holds. “Try not to talk, alright? There are some nasty bruises around your neck. You gotta go easy on your voice.”

You hum in response, the sound barely more than a soft but uncomfortable vibration in your throat. His words slide through your mind like shadows, half-formed and hard to grasp, but you understand enough.

There’s the sound of clattering around you, hurried shuffling of hands working beside you, perhaps on you, somewhere nearby. But instead of jarring you, it’s comforting, like white noise. It lulls you deeper into the fog.

Suddenly, his voice cuts through it all, sharp and urgent.

“Hey!”

It startles you. Your eyes snap open - you didn’t know they closed in the first place - body jerking from the force of his tone.

His face looms closer, those blue eyes boring into yours, pinning you down with an intensity you can’t ignore.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, but you have to keep your eyes open. You hear me?” His voice trembles in a way you never heard, and that - more than anything - forces your mind back to the surface, your eyes clearing just enough to make him out.

It’s disorienting, seeing Bucky like this. Surprising. He moves in a way that almost associates incoordination, a frantic energy surrounding him. There is something off about the way he handles himself, the way his hands fumble with supplies, clattering objects that should have stayed silent. It’s startling, unsettling even. Bucky Barnes is a man in control. Just not right now.

His hands return to your body, his touch firm and still tender, but there is a shakiness in them as his fingers skim over your torn-up skin.

He’s pressing gently where he can, wincing as if it’s him in pain every time you flinch. The fabric of your slightly torn suit sticks to your body, and he curses softly under his breath, grabbing a pair of scissors from somewhere beside him. With a few quick, jagged snips, he cuts away parts of the fabric of your suit to get a better view of your torso, revealing the bruises that litter your skin, darkening it in a sickening way.

He apologizes for every hiss, groan, and whimper you can’t suppress at the sharp sting that slices through the dull ache due to the antiseptic he uses on your skin.

His brow is furrowed deeply as he wipes the blood away with almost erratic strokes, trying to clean the area but moving a little too fast for his usual precision. The cloth is stained dark in no time, and he tosses it aside, reaching for gauze, fumbling with the tape as if he’s forgotten how to use it for a moment.

Every breath feels heavier as he continues to work on your wounds, pain pulsing with every fresh inhale.

Bucky’s eyes keep darting between your face and the wounds as if he’s checking not only for your injuries but for something else - for a sign that you’re still with him, still conscious, still breathing.

His hand moves back to your forehead, brushing some strands of hair aside with so much gentleness as he checks your temperature again. His face is tight, his jaw clenched.

It is odd, almost comforting in a way you haven’t expected. Bucky Barnes, always so composed, now seems to have trouble holding it together. And somehow, seeing him this unfiltered, this human, makes your earlier doubts vanish. Those persistent thoughts, that he wouldn’t care if you showed up on his doorstep battered and bleeding, that he’d turn away, turn you away, or doesn’t even open the door in the first place - they all but disappear.

He does care. More than you ever thought possible, more than you imagined he even knew how to. You can feel it in the way his hands linger on your skin, urgent yet careful, and in the way his curses are filled with so much apprehension and frustration.

The same Bucky you thought might not give a damn is now fighting some battle with himself as if his sheer will could hold you here.

And for some reason, that knowledge eases something inside you, delightfully loosening that knot of tension in your chest. Again, your body starts to feel like it’s floating, somewhere in the air but instead it’s sinking deeper into the cushions beneath you, slowly letting go. It’s not your body that’s floating this time, it’s your mind. As if it decided to detach itself from the pain, from the reality of your wounds and your situation, and simply drifted away. It’s weightless, flying through a space just beyond your reach. It’s almost surreal, like you’re suspended in air but you know, somehow, that you’re still lying on that couch.

And Bucky’s here.

His hands are on you. His voice is in your ears but none of it feels quite real anymore.

You don’t have it in you to fight it anymore. Your body is letting go, surrendering, and you can’t muster the strength to resist.

Bucky’s voice sounds closer, much more than you thought it had been, but it seems distant too. It’s rough, desperate; words coming out with a crack. He’s pleading with you, urging you to stay with him, to keep your eyes open.

But you can’t. You’re slipping. Still, you feel like smiling if your face would have allowed it.

Bucky is here. And although you stopped listening to his words, losing the sense of his presence, you know he will stay.

You’re in good hands.

🍁 October Writing Challenges Masterlist 🍁

#bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 1 month ago

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Oh sweet Bucky 🥹

This is so comforting! And I like the way you described the lack of energy to do anything. It’s really fitting

someone to stay

summary: bucky offers you solace as your mental fatigue rears its head.

pairing: boyfriend!bucky x reader

warnings: angst, reader anxiety/depression, fluff, non-sexual nudity, a comforting buck <3

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this was inspired by my own issues right now because i definitely need it at the moment :’)

Getting out of bed was always the most difficult part of your day. Even when you were feeling okay, even when nothing was immediately wrong. You would wake up and stare into the void, blankets smothering your body and eyelids still heavy from the bit of sleep you’d managed to get.

There wasn’t anything pressing your anxiety, but having been out of your routine for a few weeks always left you feeling unmotivated. After having been sidelined from missions for a multitude of reasons—injuries, mental stability, and a dwindling success rate—you had nothing to do. None of your side hobbies entertained you long enough to keep you busy, so you fell into the same cycle. You sometimes wished you could sleep all day or even just stay stagnant in bed, but you knew it’d only make the fatigue worse.

Today, however, was not one of those days where you pushed yourself out of bed. Not bothered to check the time, you closed your eyes again. It was raining outside anyways, the perfect weather to stay cuddled in bed for. Soon enough, you found some sleep again, even if you’d regret it later.

Bucky, who was not sidelined from missions, had just come back from one, more than eager to see you. He was back earlier than expected, so he only figured you wouldn’t be in your usual spot waiting for him in the hangar of the compound. It was a bit past noon, so he assumed you were keeping busy elsewhere.

After a quick debrief, he made it to your shared room, only to be led to confusion at the curtains still drawn and all of the lights off. He knew how much you hated sleeping in too late, only ever sleeping past 9 if you were really exhausted and/or hadn’t gotten much sleep at all. Even then, you never let it get past 11 before you were up and out of bed.

Bucky knew you were taking your suspension a bit rougher than expected. He hated seeing you upset and he was even willing to skip out on a few missions to stay with you, but you’d insisted otherwise, saying “the bad guys don’t take breaks.”

He never liked leaving you. Most of your missions had the two of you together, SHIELD thinking you worked well together even outside of your relationship. Going on missions without you meant he was always stuck with some reckless, inexperienced agent who wasn’t half as skilled as you a lot of the time. It was why he only liked the ones where he was with Sam or Steve, at least not having to stress about saving anyone.

He missed you on every single one. Your quips, how satisfying it was to see you kick people’s asses, and how swiftly you did just about everything. But Bucky also knew you needed a break. Your anxiety was more rampant lately, and it was affecting all of your skills on the field. The decision to bench you didn’t come easy to anyone, but especially not you.

You honestly had little to no idea what had you so anxious to start with, but anything else that triggered your anxiety only amplified it. Bucky was so reluctant to let Steve suspend you, but after you got seriously injured on a mission for lack of attention, he couldn’t argue against it anymore.

“You can’t be serious,” you said to Steve, tears in your eyes. “I’ve been injured so many times, why does that even matter?”

“It’s not just the injury,” Steve countered. “You’ve been off your game. I can’t risk losing one of our best members because you’re distracted.”

“I’m not dis—”

“You being distracted is how you ended up with a broken arm and a head injury,” he cut you off, making you look away from him. “You’re gonna end up dead if you keep on like this. I can’t deal with that loss, and neither can Bucky.”

Snapping your gaze back at Steve, you scoffed.

“So this is about Bucky?”

“This is about you, Y/n,” Steve said, his tone slightly more irritated. “He begged me not to bench you, said you just needed some time but even he knows putting you on the field again is risking your life.”

Wiping your tears away, you said nothing in response. You knew he was right, but the last thing you needed was to give in. It’d make you crumble, it’d make this whole situation real and you knew where you’d end up.

Your conversation ended when Bucky walked in the room.

It was the right decision after all. However, Bucky’s chest ached knowing how low you were feeling. Knowing that you were doing everything just to get by, yet nothing at all. He hadn’t seen you in a melancholy state for years, but it always scared him. He barely made it out of his own episodes sometimes, panic manifesting through his bones. His worry only worsened at the thought of not being able to pull you from the darkness, the way you’d done so for him many times.

Seeing you under the sheets, sound asleep past noon didn’t settle Bucky’s own anxiety. He was out on this mission for eight days, but you’d sounded okay when you spoke to him over the phone every night.

Were you not getting any sleep? Were you falling asleep really late? Or was your current funk really getting to you?

Bucky set his duffel bag on the floor, shutting the door behind him. He decided against opening the curtains until you were awake, sitting on the edge of the bed next to your sleeping body, placing his flesh hand on your cheek gently.

“Sweetheart,” he said, leaning down and kissing your forehead a few times. “Let me see those pretty eyes, doll.”

Furrowing your eyebrows before peeling your eyes open, you were greeted with your favorite super soldier, a smile creeping on your face.

“Hi,” you said groggily, Bucky kissing your forehead again. “You’re back early.”

“Got the job done quickly,” he fed your curiosity. “What are you still doing asleep, doll? Are you okay?”

“What time is it?” You said, still unmotivated to get up from your lying position.

“Almost 1,” Bucky answered before your eyes widened and you sat up, frantic about how the morning got away from you. “Hey, hey,” Bucky placed his hands on your shoulder, easing the tension a bit. “It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with oversleeping once in a while.”

You shook your head, avoiding Bucky’s gaze as you rubbed your eyes. “I shouldn’t have slept that long.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then your cheek, then pulled your hands away from your eyes. The bags under them didn’t go without notice, Bucky getting more worried than earlier. He knew you weren’t sleeping well, and him not being here to soothe you must have made it worse.

“Is everything okay?” He asked again, never getting an answer from you.

You sighed. “I don’t really know, I’m just- I’m always tired and don’t wanna do anything even though I know I shouldn’t just stay in bed. I was gonna wake up early today to see if I could get moving but then I barely slept and thought a few more hours could be useful but now—”

“Shh,” Bucky said, pulling you into his embrace, rubbing your back softly. “There is still a lot of time left in the day, but I don’t mind sleeping this Sunday away with you after the mission I just had.” He kissed the top of your head a few times. “We can shower then eat and then rest. Sounds good?”

You nodded, with a muffled ‘okay’ into his chest before pulling away, Bucky standing and grasping your hand in his to head to the bathroom.

Bucky turned the shower on, letting it run to get warm before turning back to you. After you helped Bucky take his tac suit off, he helped you shed your pajamas. The both of you took your underwear off, Bucky checking the water before you stepped in.

You always enjoyed showering with Bucky, most after a mission when you were both tired. Though this was different since you weren’t the one coming home, the sentiment of being tired remained the same.

Bucky could tell you were tense, that something was still bothering you. He never wanted to pry, so he massaged the tension out of your shoulders, getting you to relax your posture a bit. You both worked your way around lathering each other with soap, your eyes doing their usual routine of scanning Bucky’s body for any cuts and bruises. Bucky decided to wash your hair, finding any means of making you feel relaxed. You sighed under his touch, leaning your head forward to rest against his chest as he rinsed your hair.

“Steve mentioned you going back on the field again,” Bucky eased into the conversation. “You feeling up for it?” Much to Bucky’s surprise, you shook your head, prompting him to lift your face in his hands. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You know you can talk to me.”

Sighing again, you leaned into his touch. “I’m not ready.”

“I thought you wanted to get back,” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows.

“I do,” you nodded. “But I just feel so… out of it. Like my mind is out of fuel and it’s putting my body on pause. I have no energy lately, I don’t really know what’s wrong with me.”

Bucky looked at you, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. He’d been there, where his body was craving one thing but his mind just never allowed him to satisfy any of his desires. Depression didn’t always look the same, but he could tell when it was starting to consume you.

The restless nights, the fatigue, the lack of energy and motivation. It was a stark contrast to your usual, productive self. Sometimes Bucky would have to slow you down for doing too many things at once, so it pained him to see you not want to do anything at all.

He decided right then and there he’d take a pause from any missions until you were okay. Until he could see the spark in your eye again, the pep in your step. The energy being revitalized.

“It happens, baby,” he reassured. “You’ve helped me through some of my funks, so let me help you out of yours, hm?”

“You don’t have to, Bucky,” you shook your head, but he shushed you, a chaste kiss placed on your lips. “I’m serious, you don’t have to pause your life for me. People still need help and I’ll get out of my fatigue stint eventually, so—”

“You know you’re not gonna convince me otherwise, right?” He shut you up again, offering you a smirk and another peck to the lips. “I would drop everything for you. At any time, on any day, at any given moment. You are my world, doll. If you’re not okay, then my world isn’t okay.”

“But what if they really need you—”

“They won’t,” Bucky grabbed the comb to detangle your hair. “Now come on, let me help you ease your mind, hm?”

Knowing you couldn’t say no to him, you turned so your back was facing him, Bucky smoothly getting any knots out of your hair.

He knew how much you loved it when he did your hair, knowing the process was super long and you didn’t want to do it half of the time. When he first heard you complain about having to do it, he made you teach him your whole routine for whenever you were feeling unmotivated to. It was one of many things he eagerly learned for you, always wanting to pamper you.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed over the fact that you had him back, here with you as he did everything in his power to clear your head from the anxious thoughts, you couldn’t help but tear up.

When he finished detangling your hair, holding it up with a clip, he saw you crying, quickly pulling you in his arms, kissing you everywhere he could.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he said, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Once he let you return the favor of washing his hair, you made him sit on the built-in bench in the shower so you wouldn’t have to reach up the whole time.

Bucky loved touching you, but he swore to everything that he loved your touch even more. Your hands were so soft and gentle, with each lather and rinse of his head.

“Your hair’s getting long again,” you said, running your fingers through Bucky’s brown locks, the length now passing his ear. “Are you gonna cut it?”

Bucky shrugged, his hands finding comfort in your waist as you stood in front of him. He placed a kiss on each of your hips then your stomach before looking up at you.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he answered before standing, kissing your lips again. He knew how much you liked his short hair when he first cut it, but deep down you loved his long hair too. You just never forced him to keep one or the other, knowing how many memories his hair held.

Bucky loved how well you knew him, how well you understood him. It was the main reason why he took his time to do the same for you.

Once you were both out of the shower and dressed, Bucky picked up his phone to order some food. You’d told him you were craving Chinese the night before on your phone call while he was away, so he ordered all of your favorites as you finished drying your hair in the bathroom.

After eating dinner, Bucky slid under the covers of your shared bed, extending his metal arm for you to grab as you slid in next to him. Your head found its usual spot on his chest, both of his arms encasing you in the pressure you sought so many times, your left leg over his right one.

“Thank you,” you said softly as Bucky rubbed your back just the way you liked it. “For never judging me.”

“I would never plan to,” he said, using his right hand to lift your chin up. “We’re human. We have our moments where we need a break, a reset. You taught me that when I needed to hear it. Don’t think that it excludes you, my love.”

Leaning up, you pressed your lips against his in a soft kiss that said more than enough.

Pulling away, you looked into those blue eyes that meant the world to you.

“What would I do without you?”

“Force yourself to do your hair routine every week,” Bucky joked, making you roll your eyes playfully with a smirk.

You pressed a kiss on his chest before laying your head on it again. “I love you.”

“I love you more, doll,” he said, massaging your scalp to soothe you until you fell asleep.

Bucky could watch you be this peaceful forever, vowing to spend the rest of his days making sure you were okay. He always knew you’d return the favor, enjoying every moment spent with you like this, comforted best in his arms.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky comfort

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 1 month ago

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Mel, I'm dead.

This is so heartfelt, lovely, and endearing at the same time, I'm so invested!!

He witnessed the usual: Yori and his son closing up their family-owned restaurant for the night, Mr. and Mrs. Fury bickering on their walk home, the savory aroma of Stark’s Pizzeria wafting through the air as he drove by, and a stack of wooden crates dancing in mid-air.

First of all, this is so sweet! Yori and his son... Mr. and Mrs. Fury bickering on their walk home... Stark's Pizzeria... 🥹 I wanna live there so badly!

Bucky suddenly catches the determined expression on your face as you go to pick up three of the wooden crates again. His eyes widen and before he even registers what he’s doing he swings off his bike and jogs over to you.

“Here let me help,” Bucky doesn’t ask or wait for a response as he easily takes the crates from your arms, lifting them as if they weighed nothing. You watch him in startled awe, wondering where this incredibly strong stranger had come from. Hand on your heart to calm yourself down from the sudden intrusion on your solitude.

Now, he's such a gentleman I'm swooning!! And the way he parks his bike to watch her, I'm so done for him 🙈💜

Also, the way he's so strong 🤭

And Tulip is such a sweet nickname. My knees would absolutely give out if he'd call me that, oh my 👀

Bucky walked back to his Harley smiling like a teenager with a crush. His every step feeling lighter than earlier in the night. Whether he recognized it or not that day, it was all because of you. There was just something about you that was refreshing to Bucky, like the morning air after a night of heavy rain. The first rays of sunlight after a cold winter’s night. The cool breeze that brings you back to life on a hot summer’s day.

Poor guy was grieving so hard and I felt so bad but hell, this is perfect. I love how he's still such a good guy even when he's not doing well. And I'm so glad he feels better 💜

I'm actually smiling like a teenager myself

Thank your for this!! ❤❤

Tulip

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Florist!Reader

Summary: On a night when the past weighs heavy on Bucky, fate brings him to you.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning(s): established nickname -> tulip / fluff / mentions of grief

a/n: After seeing how much people loved Biker Bucky in Usual I decided to share more of their story with you all 💕 This is going to be a bigger collection of fics, so I will have an official taglist for it and there's more info on that here. That taglist in this fic is not related to the tags on here. The tags on here were for just for fun!! Hope you enjoy!! Likes, comments, & reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

next in their story ♡ // the whole collection ♡

It was one of those nights where Bucky was irritated without reason. His face was etched into an intimidating scowl as he looked at nothing in particular in his bar. The laughter was too loud, the clinking of glasses irked his eardrums like nails on a chalkboard, and his heart felt heavy. Almost as if one of the men in his bar were pressing down on it with their heavy boot.

Bucky was getting tired of this. Of having these moments where his body thrummed with discomfort and his fingers found the familiar grooves in the wooden table he sat at—etching the oak with erratic lines until his nails were chipped and uneven. He could already hear the shit Sam would say as soon as he saw the added marks.

Bucky was getting restless—reluctantly so.

“Hey, Buck, one of the—”

“‘m goin’ out for a ride.”

As soon as Steve came over to give Bucky an update on the business, Bucky stood up from the table and dismissed himself. Steve held back a sigh, his lips forming a tight line as his best friend blew him off. He didn’t take it personally, at least not tonight. More than anything Steve was worried for Bucky. It was never easy seeing him fall into this state once a year.

Bucky always got like this around the anniversary of his father’s death.

Steve and the rest of the crew exchanged wary glances as Bucky pushed through the bar in a rush. His hands at his sides flexed as he sought out the comfort of his bike. He took out his leather gloves from his jacket—dark and weathered from years of wear—and slipped them on before mounting his Harley. It thundered to life underneath him, the deep rumble easing the tension in his shoulders.

He pulled out of his parking space, the blacked-out engine chrome gleaming under the streetlights. Bucky had no set destination, just a familiar path he had taken hundreds of times while on patrol. One that transgressed the entirety of the small town he lived in.

The small town he and his gang protected.

Bucky twisted the throttle, the Harley's roar echoing through the quiet streets as if warning the town of his presence. He drove down the roads at a steady speed, letting the breeze brush through his hair like a soothing balm. Hoping the night and his Harley would take away the hollow ache in his chest.

He couldn’t keep thinking of his dad. Not right now. There was too much going on in his life.

Bucky wouldn’t allow himself to be swept by the bittersweet memories. There were dozens of problems at the bar he needed to solve, rival gangs were stirring up trouble in neighboring towns so his people depended on him now more than ever, and his Ma and Becca relied on him as the sole provider.

Giving himself a moment to grieve—to feel—was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

After a full loop around the town, Bucky decided to survey the downtown area once again. It was nearing ten at night and the majority of the businesses were closed, and yet he was still adamant about getting a good last look before he returned to the bar.

Hold up.

Wait a minute.

What?

Bucky had to do a double and then a triple take to make sure his eyes weren’t tricking him. He hadn’t had an ounce of alcohol tonight, and yet he began to gaslight himself into thinking maybe he had.

That was until you appeared from behind the wooden crates. Huffing out in annoyance and setting them down on the bed of an old pickup truck. Glaring at them as if the fury behind your eyes would suddenly make them ten pounds lighter.

Bucky stared at you from afar perplexed and yet with a ghost of a smile on his face. He had never seen you in town before, meaning you must have moved here not too long ago. A faint memory of Sam telling him a new shop owner was coming into town crosses his mind, but Bucky couldn’t remember all the details.

With a multitude of other things on his mind, he hadn’t been paying attention at the time.

The Harley’s rumble softens until it comes to a still as Bucky parks it on the street opposite you. He sits on it for a moment watching you, searching his brain for the finer details of what Sam had mentioned, but nothing comes to him. He’s left to find out more about you in the here and now.

“Oh! Um…you really don’t have to—”

“‘m already carrying ‘em, dollface. Jus’ tell me where to put ‘em.”

Bucky’s voice was calm and collected, but on the inside he wanted to ask you what the hell were in these crates. He’s used to carrying heavy boxes of supplies for his bar, but even then he’d use a hand truck to haul everything in. To think you were trying to carry all of this by yourself…he didn’t know whether to be impressed by your determination or laugh at your stubbornness.

The wooden crates obstructed your view of each other—and he’d never admit it—but they covered enough of his eye sight to where he had to tilt his head to watch his step.

“Here, let me guide you,” you placed a tentative hand on his arm, trying to ignore the way his bicep flexed under it. There was fragile cargo in those crates and you needed to make sure they got into your shop safe and sound. Bucky showed no signs of rejecting your guidance.

You carefully led him inside, sliding away any obstacles from his path with your feet. You were still adding the last touches to the decor so there were tools, supplies, and different sized cardboard boxes scattered across the floor. You were able to direct him to a spot in front of the main counter where he could put the crates down—the one area clear of anything.

He placed them down gently before turning to face you. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat the moment his eyes met yours. Your pretty irises glimmered with sincere appreciation coupled with a soft smile that caused an unfamiliar warmth to spread through his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him like that. His brain has gone fuzzy, words evading him. Almost like a part of him that had been dormant for far too long was yearning for him to not break this gentle moment with you.

You on the other hand were enchanted by the color of his eyes. A rich blue you tried to pinpoint through the catalog of flowers in your mind. Could the color be matched to a morning glory? A harvestbell? A brunnera? Forget-me-nots? Delphiniums? Hydrangeas?

The longer you thought the more you concluded no flower seemed close enough to the particular shade of blue that was looking right at you.

“Thank you,” your voice was far too quiet for your liking when you broke the silence. You brought Bucky back to the present, yet not from the trance you had him in. He was particularly invested in the curve of your lips when you spoke and the way your eyes held his like you had known him all your life.

Bucky cleared his throat, propping his arm on the counter in a nonchalant manner, “Not a problem—looked like you could use the help.” He topped his cool reply with a casual shrug and smirk that made it seem like he did this all the time.

“Was it that obvious?”

“For a second there I thought those things would crush you.”

Your sheepishness melts away into a laugh. The sound leaving your lips before you could stop it. You imagine what you must have looked like struggling with those heavy crates. The mental image of it is enough to fill you with mortified mirth.

Your laugh elicits a soft chuckle from him—the first proper laugh he’s had in about a week or two.

“‘m gonna go get the rest for ya…” he pushes himself off from the counter, but his voice trails off by the end when he realizes he never asked for your name. A heartbeat passes and with one quick lookover your frame a nickname falls effortlessly from his lips.

“Tulip.”

Your heart does a little flip in your chest. You know exactly why he called you that. You were wearing denim overalls self embroidered with a multitude of small tulips adorning it in a range of colors. As if that weren’t enough tulips, you had two small pink tulip hair clips on either side of your head, pinning your hair away from your face.

“I-It’s Y/n, actually.”

“Pretty thing like you—Tulip suits ya.”

The nickname already had your heart fluttering, but the wink that followed his compliment had you weak in the knees. This man was handsome—deadly handsome. You had sworn off men for a whole year and counting—and now this man presented himself into your life tempting you to throw that oath away until it was nonexistent.

“Thank you, but you really don’t have to help with the rest um…”

“Bucky. The name's Bucky. And I don’t have to, but I want to, so don’t worry ‘bout it, Tulip.”

With an emphasis on the nickname he’s chosen for you, he makes a smooth exit, the smirk never leaving his face as he saunters back and forth from the pickup truck and carries in crate after crate for you. You distract yourself with miscellaneous tasks around your shop. Yet, your eyes drift to his form here and there greedily taking in his display of strength.

When’s he’s all done—after ten crates in total—you’re behind the main counter, arranging a small basket of goods as he approaches you.

“That’s all of ‘em. Mind me askin’ what’s in ‘em?” Bucky motions over to the crates at his feet with a nod of his head. You present him with a basket of sweet spreads encased in decorated mason jars—the covers all distinctly patterned with different florals.

“They’re my homemade jams and honeys. As a thank you for helping me carry all those crates in here, I’m giving you one of each,” you hand him the basket and his features soften. His fingers hovering over the rim of the basket like he doesn’t believe he deserved such kindness.

“Tulip, ya really don’t have to thank me for helpin’.”

“I don’t have to, but I want to, so don’t worry about it, Bucky.”

When you echo his words from earlier and use them on him he lets out a breath of a laugh, a grin of disbelief on his face. He didn’t expect that. Having his words used against him in a good way. He was used to the opposite of that.

You were something else and Bucky liked that. He liked that a lot. Especially the way you said his name, it sounder sweeter falling from your lips. As if his name were made out of the same sugary sweetness the goods in the basket were. It caused a stutter within his chest he wasn’t used to.

No one’s ever given Bucky butterflies this quickly–or maybe ever like this in his life.

For the next twenty minutes you both dove into small talk to get to know each other better. It started off as a pretext of a friendly conversation between two business owners, but it quickly became something more. You confirmed Bucky’s assumptions about you being a florist when you chatted away about your shop. Your outfit and the floral mosaic that decorated one of the walls—the one you told him your aunt had hand painted—was enough for him to put the pieces together. You learned that Bucky owned a bar a few blocks down, one that he ran with his childhood friends. He had served the military with a lot of them and even knew some of them since he was a young boy.

As if the leather jacket, the leather gloves, and the motorcycle parked outside wasn’t enough to tell you—he clearly was a biker. You knew as much when he had this passionate look in his eyes as he went on and on about him and his bestfriend Steve fixing up motorcycles since their high school years. He saw the same passion in your eyes when you told him the story of how your aunt had awakened your love for gardening. The very catalyst of events that led you to move into town and end up on this night here with him.

Both of you offered a part of yourselves in that conversation. An exchange that might seem small to others, but that to the both of you meant so much more. For you both had closed a part of yourselves off for quite some time.

For entirely different reasons, but with a similar outcome nonetheless.

“Let’s make a deal. I get to keep callin’ ya Tulip and you can call me for help anytime ya need it,” Bucky offers this after you explain to him that your aunt had only been visiting you and left a few days ago. Leaving you to finish up the preparations for the grand opening of your shop in a few days time.

“Tempting offer…” you start, pretending to think about it and hiding your delight at the thought. In reality, you could use the help, and seeing more of Bucky was an added bonus that was hard to refuse. You wanted to get to know him better—you couldn’t deny that—and this seemed like a perfect place to start.

Plus who were you kidding, you enjoyed being called Tulip.

“Alright deal,” your smile matches his when you agree. Bucky was in the same boat as you. Not knowing where this could go, not dwelling on what the future may hold, but certain that he wanted to spend more time with you.

Reluctantly, Bucky pulled away from the counter,“Well I gotta hit the road, the guys’ll be wonderin’ where I’ve been.” The vibrations in his pocket from his phone notifications told him as much.

You hid your disappointment behind a grateful expression,“Of course. I won’t keep you any longer. Thanks again for the help, Bucky. Let me know what you think of the spreads!”

Bucky grabbed a hold of the basket of sweets, and slowly walked backwards towards the exit as he wanted to keep his eyes on you for as long as he could. Every fiber of his being fighting to stay.

“Anytime, Tulip—and I’ll let ya know. Have a good night.”

“You too, Bucky. Drive safe!”

That was you.

You were the morning air, the sunlight, and the cool breeze.

He didn’t know it yet, but in due time he would.

In due time, you would be his Tulip.

tagging some lovelies who asked to be tagged & others who seemed eager to read more ♡ ♡ ♡

@fanfictionreaderfan @nicksolemnlyswears @tilltheendofthelinebuckaroo @princessjellyfishlove @thewritergremlin-rae

(these tags were only for this fic and not for the full collection, so if you'd like to be tagged for the full thing let me know!!)

#bucky barnes x reader #biker!bucky x reader #biker!bucky #florist!Reader #Tulip #lots of love from marvelstoriesepic ♡

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