#'cause steve used to be a clumsy little boy with big doe eyes and soft long legs

[hawkinsbnbg]

Stepbrother Eddie who just wanted to protect his innocent little brother and thought that no one would ever deserve his baby.

He’d chase off Steve’s new boyfriends and return home with bloody knuckles—a result of his wrath—because how dare they lay their dirty hands on Steve?

Every day, when Steve came back from school, he’d check Steve’s pretty cunt to make sure the omega hadn't let some random alphas take his virginity.

If it required him to use his tongue and fingers for a thorough inspection, then no one would be the wiser. And if he knotted Steve’s cute ass once or twice every time before he fell asleep with a purring omega in his arms, then it was a little secret between him and his baby.

In the end, Eddie was the one who took Steve’s virginity because no one could protect his omega better than him.

[inagetawaycarxo]

Dating Sebastian Stan Would Include

—Requested by anon

—Requests are open btw, send in a imagine idea or a headcanon idea for Sebastian or marvel!

—A/N: *sighs dreamily* I might have gone a little overboard on this one! Feedback is appreciated!

When Sebastian first met you he couldn’t help but stare at you, getting captivated by you, which resulted in him running into a glass window of the coffee shop. He got flustered when you came over and asked if he was alright. Which made him stumble over his words.

“I’m fine.” He squeaked out, his cheeks reddening, as he looked anywhere but at you.

He then stumbled off, not waiting to hear your response, bumping into people on the way out. Tbh he was a clumsy mess. Still is when he is around you.

The second time you and Seb met was when Chris took you to the set of marvel.

You’s two started off as friends.

Chris and Anthony trying to get you and Sebastian together, and being frustrated by how oblivious you are to the feelings Seb has for you.

With a lot of encouragement from Chris & Anthony, Seb finally gets the nerve to ask you out. When you agreed to go out with him Seb can’t help but smile at you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground spinning you around.

Being besties with Mackie as well as Chris.

Sebastian is always a blushing nervous wreck around you.

Also can be a cocky little shit as well, and a tease.

Seb adores you so much. You are his entire world, he loves to brag/talk about you to friends and family, though some of them get annoyed by his constant rambles/fangirling about you, not that Seb cares.

Seb looks at you and gets lost in a daydream a lot, sometimes dirty daydreams.

He could stare at you all day and not get bored.

Learning to speak Romanian. Though you butcher some of the words.

Sebastian falling more in love with you when you try/speak Romanian, his eyes beaming with happiness.

If you do speak Romanian, then having a conversation in Romanian with Seb.

A lot of PDA…Not really in front of paparazzi though, mostly in front of your family and friends. Sometimes fans.

Seb likes to have his arm around you a lot, either on your waist or around your shoulder. Or hold your hand in public. He will kiss your cheek and forehead but never your lips in public.

He likes to hold your hand all the time.

He loves to wrap his arms around your waist, pressing soft kisses on your shoulder then your neck, or resting his chin against your shoulder. Or in the crook of your neck.

Seb is really protective of you, if anyone says a bad word about you, god help them they get the wrath of Seb, he definitely gives them that Bucky glare, he is also protective over you in public too

Being the biggest space nerds ever.

Stargazing.

Watching space documentaries/ sci-fi movies.

A lot of dates; coffee dates, pizza dates, movie dates, midnight dates, beach dates, hiking dates, Picnic dates

Dates with Seb are never boring.

Midnight strolls

Working out together.

You and him like to encourage/motivate each other when you’s are working out.

Trying not to stare at him too much while he is working out.

Vice versa Seb trying not to get distracted by you when he works at.

Trying to impress each other.

Taking a lot of selfies together + photos of each other {even without one of you’s knowing}.

He doesn’t post most of them keeping them to himself.

Anthony teasing you and Seb a lot.

Anthony calling Seb whipped.

He is definitely whipped.

Seb finding it cute/hot when you are mad at him.

When he is home, you’s two mostly have lazy days.

Seb taking you to cons.

Visiting him at his panels.

Getting fan art/gifts from the fans that ship you and Seb together.

Seb taking you to his movie premiers.

Seb finding it adorable when you fangirl about Marvel.

Sending each other memes. Telling him he is a walking meme. He is a walking meme tbh.

When he had longish hair he used to steal your hair ties.

Convincing Seb to keep his hair longer for a little while.

Playing with his hair a lot.

Braiding it when it was a bit longer.

Seb playing with your hair.

You’re his best friend, and he is your best friend.

A hell of a lot of kissing.

Forehead kisses.

Neck kisses.

Shoulder kisses.

Nose kisses.

Cheek kisses.

Thigh kisses.

Belly kisses.

Hand kisses.

Morning kisses.

Goodnight kisses.

Needy kisses.

Kissing you at random times

And a lot of making out.

Let’s just say he is obsessed with kissing you.

Your neck will be covered in a lot of hickeys, so will Sebs and the rest of your body, mostly your neck and thighs.

Seb buying matching turtle neck sweaters to cover the hickeys.

Seb believes every time you smile it makes the world a little bit brighter.

Visiting him on set.

Making out with him in his trailer.

The dudes a huge hopeless romantic.

Always being there for each other.

Loving each other no matter what.

Being there for each other when one of you’s have a bad day.

Listening to each other’s problems.

Long skype calls while he is away filming, he mostly falls asleep in them.

Or facetiming each other, either one.

A lot of “I miss you’s.” when he is filming.

Helping him with his lines.

Seb being your #1 Fan/supporter,

Being his #1 fan/supporter.

You spend most of your time at his place and he spends most of his time at your place.

If someone comments rudely on one of your post on Instagram then he will defend you.

Seb cursing in Romanian when he is angry.

Seb biting his lip constantly when he is around you. {Since he knows it turns you on}.

Teasing you in Romanian.

Seb likes to go lingerie shopping with you.

Also likes to go shopping with you in general. He has great taste.

Matching outfits.

Supporting each other no matter what.

Plus being honest with each other and trusting each other.

Being there for each other through the ups and downs of life.

Most of the time you’s don’t fight, but when you’s do its mostly small fights, though you’s two makeup and have makeup sex.

Sebastian getting jealous of your celeb crushes

“Yeah, well he/she can’t fuck you and love you like I can.” He grumbled.

Saving water and showering together, though you’s are probably wasting it since you’s have a lot of sex in the shower.

You love to run your hands through his hair.

You’s two don’t hide the fact that you’s your dating from public but you’s are private about it.

Though that doesn’t stop him from gushing about you in interviews. However, if it’s his friends or family then he will talk their ear off about you.

Cooking together, though it’s mostly make out sessions leading to the food to get burnt and you and Seb have to end up ordering take out.

You’d suggest going to cooking classes, but then you and him probably end up making out and get kicked out of the class.

He loves to cuddle you, he is such a snuggle bug, whether it’s spooning or you cuddling into his chest or his side. He loves cuddling you.

Morning cuddles.

Bear hugs.

Hugs from behind.

He also likes being the little spoon as well. The feeling of your arms wrapped around him makes him feel secure.

Seb is so handsy. Not that you are complaining.

Netflix and chill.

No, really you’s do watch Netflix and chill as well.

A lot of movie marathons.

Dancing. Well, dorky dancing.

A lot of pet names for each other.

Calling him either, Seb, Sebby, baby, babe, sexy, hot stuff, darling, honey, mon Cheri, daddy, babykins, cutie pie, babycakes, bae, beautiful, big boy, my love, cupcake, cutie, dreamboat, goofball, dork, gorgeous, handsome, honey bun, honey bunny, hot stuff, hottie, hun, love, love bug, love muffin, lover, loverboy, my drug, pumpkin, snuggle bug, snuggle butt, snuggle muffin, sugar, sweet stuff, sweet thing/thang, sweetie, sweettums, sweetie pie, tiger.

Seb calling you baby girl. Baby doll, doll, {your nickname}, sweetheart, adorable, babykins, beautiful, buttercup, cutie pie, cutie, darling, gorgeous, honey, hon, hottie, kitten, love, muffin, my queen, my love, peach, princess, sugar, sunshine, sugar pie, sweet pea, sweettums, sweetie, toots.  

He definitely says some of those pet names in Romanian too.

Whenever he speaks Romanian it turns you on.

If you have an accent then that definitely turns Seb on.

You even beg him to sit and watch his movies with you.

Accidentally calling him “Bucky.” only to get this response “Who the hell is Bucky?”

Seb always either smacks your ass or grabs it, either one, actually he does both.

Telling each other really corny jokes.

Always making each other laugh.

Buying you flowers/roses for no reason

“What are these for?” you asked Seb, smelling the roses.

“Cause I love you.” Seb answered, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a soft kiss on your neck.

Comforting him when he is feeling sad.

Vice versa, Seb comforting you when you are down.

Begging him to tell you endgame spoilers.

“No, I’m not telling you, watch the movie.” He grumbled, getting out of your grasp.

“No, please tell me I don’t want to walk into endgame unprepared, I need tissues if my baby Steve is going to die? Or if Tony or Thor is going to die, I can’t be unprepared if my favourite dies.” You whined, giving him puppy dog eyes.

“What about Bucky? I thought my character was your favourite.” Seb whined, pouting at you.

“Bucky’s dead though, oh my gosh, I hope Carol kicks Thanos purple ass, Oh does Bucky at least come back, maybe he can be the new captain America if Steve dies or Sam.” You ranted, Seb rolled his eyes letting out a sigh, before turning around and walking away from you.

“Don’t walk away from me, tell me spoilers god damn it.” You shouted...

He is so needy. Might be a little clingy but so are you.

Seb likes to buy you gifts and spoil you.

Also, pamper you as well.

He loves you so god damn much and you love him so much. You’s two love each other a lot.

He is such a romantic.

You are his whole damn world.

Domestic Seb, got to love Domestic! Seb.

Grocery shopping.

Brushing your teeth together, because he hogs the mirror.

Seb making you breakfast in bed.

Adopting a dog together.

Live streaming.

A lot of “I love you’s.”

Straddling his waist either to cuddle or make out.

Moving in with him.

Piggyback rides.

Deep conversations.

Taking bubble baths together.

Falling asleep on his chest.

Seb tracing your spine with his fingers.

Road trips.

Helping each other when you’s are stressed.

Roasting each other.

Being proud of each other.

Roasting Tom Holland with him and Mackie, (poor Tom)

Texting each other a lot while he is away filming.

Giving each other massages.

Talking about the future, like getting married and having kids. He daydreams about having kids with you a lot.

Being couple goals.

“One day we will be marriage goals.” Seb cooed, smiling at you.

“Are you trying to hint to me you’re going to propose to me?” you asked, looking up from your phone to look at him.

“Maybe.” He answered, biting his lower lip as he stared at you.

Going on vacations when Seb is off of work.

Sending you flowers/gifts while he is filming.

Getting drunk together.

Carpooling.

A lot of eye fucking. {Did I write that already probably did anyways more eye fucking.}

Tickle fights.

Fans adoring you.

His beard, you are obsessed with it, you’re always stroking it.

Hiding his razor so he doesn’t shave it.

Having fights on how to pronounce memes

Going to charity/galas with him. And red carpet events.

Telling each other how much you love one another.

Spilling tea to each other.

Seb wakes up before you do, he likes to admire you for a little while, before waking you up by kissing you/ your body.

Adoring every inch of your body and your flaws.

Same goes for you, adoring every inch of his body and his flaws. Not that you think he has any flaws.

He cherishes you in general.

Meeting each other’s friends.

Meeting each other’s families.

His mom absolutely loving/adoring you.

His mom teaching you how to cook Romanian recipes

Your family adoring/loving Seb.

Your mom even shows him baby pictures of you.

“Aw, I hope our babies look like you when we have one because you are just so damn cute.” Seb cooed, beaming at you.

Listening to each other about how your days went, what you’s did and so on.

Wearing his jumpers/ shirts. He loves it when you wear his clothes.

Being each other’s backgrounds/or/lock screens on each other’s phones.

Helping him navigate social media.

Seb gets jealous easily.

Seb getting jealous of your girl crush on Brie Larson. {Unless you don’t have a crush on Brie Larson then just ignore this.}

Taking videos of each other doing weird stuff and cute stuff.

Taking naps together.

Getting lost in those blue eyes, and not listening to what he is talking about. Damn those blue eyes.

Jogging together.

Seb getting insecure when you talk to guys younger than him.

Seb smirking when he gets you flustered. Also hot and bothered.

Sex with Sebastian is never vanilla.

A lot of hair pulling when you’s two are having sex, from the both of you’s.

A lot of oral.

Pretty much having sex every hour (if possible) you’s two kiss a lot and have sex a lot.

Seb speaking Romanian when you and him have sex. {Most of its dirty talk.}

He definitely loves to grope your boobs a lot.

He has a huge daddy kink.

And a praise kink

Lazy morning sex.

Shower sex.

Passionate sex.

Rough sex.

Jealous sex.

Making love to you.

Lots of quickies.

Lots and lots of hickeys.

And thigh burns.

A LOT OF DIRTY TALK, he will even say it in Romanian to which brings you close to your orgasm.

Orgasm denial, from the both of you’s

Orgasm delay.

Light bondage.

He is a Dom but he can be a sub as well.

His favourite positions are doggy style, missionary, the lotus position, cowgirl,

You’s two have sex nearly in every room and anywhere.

Seb is the king of aftercare.

Let’s just say you’s two have a lot of sex and a lot of make-out sessions.

If you are an actress or newly actress then Seb will support you, watching your movies, or TV appearance, helping you with lines, going to charity events, red carpet events, and movie premiers with you.

Seb prob feeds you food.

Seb is a gentleman though he is a dork and he a freak in bed.

The both of you’s are such big dorks.

Watching sunsets and sunrises together, mainly sunsets.

[until-we-fall-in-love]

barba à papa

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The sky behind him is sherbert orange, melted dreamsicle, and the tang of lemon as the sun glides lazily beneath the horizon of Brooklyn. Blue moon, soft and overarching, begins to bloom in the sky as you keep kissing him on your front step.

Snapshots of your life growing up alongside Bucky Barnes in the 1930s and 40s.

Warnings: Light violence (like a fist fight), light smut towards the end, angst.

If you are under 18 you should not be reading this!

A/N: hello everyone!! this is for @cametobuyplums 2k writing challenge!! congrats!! i adore your writing!! and for this, my prompt was ​“barba à papa” which means cotton candy in French! i believe i’m put down on her post as my main blog @maria-beee but i post all my fics to this side blog! i had a lot of fun with this even though it became a little angstier than intended! please let me know what you think! thanks for reading :)

Read on Ao3

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You’re five when you tear your favorite, cotton candy pink dress on your walk home from school, skidding your knees until dark blood blooms on the edges of the pink fabric like flowers opening against a rosy sky. You start crying, big, hiccuping tears because you know your mama will be real angry about the tear. Your knees hurt, too, and there are pebbles in the palms of your small hands. But it's your favorite dress and you know you probably won’t get another. 

Bucky’s there, though, the neighbor boy who's two years older than you and walks you to and from the schoolhouse with his friend, Stevie. He’s only seven, but he’s got three younger sisters so he knows exactly how to ease you back up onto your wobbling feet. “You’re okay!” He quickly starts to say, “It’s okay, it’s just a scratch!” And he tries to smooth out your dress, brush off your little palms. Small, clumsy hands push your hair away from your tear-damp cheeks, the way he sees his own mom do with his baby sisters when they take a fall. Your nose is running, making it hard to breathe.

“It’s my favorite dress,” You cry, taking shuddering breaths as your little fists latch onto the sleeves of his patched-up shirt. “My mama’s gonna be so mad,” You gasp, more worried about her than the blood that races down your shins in crimson ribbons. 

“Stevie, you got something I can wipe her knees with?” Bucky asks over his shoulder before he turns back to you and he tries to wipe your tears again, little fingers rough and stumbling but you don’t care. “I’m sure your mama can fix it. Or mine or Stevie’s could, too.” He tries to comfort you as Steve rummages through his little, blue backpack. 

He pulls out a crumpled napkin and hands it over to Bucky, who quickly, messily tries to wipe away the blood. Fix the damage done. You sniffle at him, cheeks blotchy and pink. 

“C’mon,” Bucky says, taking your little hand in his, “We’ll get you home.” 

And he takes you home, trying to cheer you up the entire way until you laugh through tears. 

-------------------------------

You’re nine when you and Steve pick a fight with a twelve year old boy that’s been picking on some of the younger kids on the schoolyard. It ain’t right, you and Steve agree, just before following him right into trouble. But it doesn’t last long because the boy catches Steve in a hit to his jaw that sends his small, frail body to the ground in a heap. 

Your mouth pops open, worry tracing your features before anger flickers through you, bright and quick, for this bully. You watch Steve take in a few ragged, rattling breaths and you move towards him, but don’t get far. 

You get shoved by the older boy, right onto the hard cement before his greedy, chubby fingers yank the cotton candy, softly pink ribbon right from your hair just to be mean. You yelp, clawing at his hand as it’s swiped away. 

It’s Bucky that steals it back, growing a little lanky at eleven, but lighter on his feet than this bully. He scarcely dodges a sloppy punch from the other boy before taking his own shot, knuckles splitting across the bully’s mouth. 

And the bully starts crying and screaming real loud, all blubbering and wailing when he touches his fingers to his lips and they come way with blood. He runs to tell a teacher. 

“Jeeze, what the hell did you two get yourself into?” 

He’s been saying hell and damn lately to sound grown up but you got scolded by your ma when you tried it. She said it was no way for young ladies to speak. 

Bucky hoists you up, looking over you, making sure you’re okay. He pushes your hair from your face, sees no injury before crouching beside Steve. 

“You okay, pal?” Bucky asks and you drop to your knees beside him, gravel biting into the soft skin there.

“Stevie?” You ask, laying a hand on his back. 

Steve turns his face to the both of you, shows you the fat, bloody lip that’s begun to run red down his chin. He smiles all shaky and crooked, “Never been better, Buck.” 

“Oh Christ, Steve.” Bucky swears again and shifts to try and help him up. You stand, sliding one of Steve’s thin arms around your shoulders to help lift him. Bucky supports his other side; Steve looks dazed and wobbly, like a newborn lamb taking shaky steps.

You pick your head up, blowing hair from your eyes just as you see a teacher marching out to the three of you, looking sour and angry. You gulp. Oh, you’re in real trouble now. 

Which is how the three of you end up in the principal’s office, knees knocking against each other as you sit and wait. Steve’s got an ice pack to his mouth but there’s blood on his blue shirt. 

You know you’ll all at least get detentions for this. Maybe worse. Bucky will probably get the worst punishment, despite deserving it the least. Guilt gnaws at you, settles into the pit of your stomach alongside the worry you feel for when your mama finds out what you’ve done. 

But Bucky nudges you with an elbow and you glance over at him, watch as he uncurls his fist to reveal your ribbon, rumpled and delicate looking in his hand. You’d almost forgotten about it and you can’t help the soft smile that touches your lips, wobbly because you think Bucky’s a little too good after all the trouble you’ve caused him now. 

Gently, you slide it from his hand and into yours, your fingers brushing his palm. “Thank you, Bucky,” You murmur, looking at him with wide, sweet eyes. 

Bucky smiles back, boyish and crooked and young. “‘Course,” He says back, as if he’d do anything for you. 

Looking at him, you think he just might. 

-----------------------

You’re twelve and being forced to grow up too quickly, caught somewhere between being a young woman and clinging to girlhood. Everyone is treating you differently, looking at you differently, too. Steve doesn’t. But he’s been getting sick lately, bedridden and fragile looking, swearing to you that he’s alright. 

You know he isn’t, but you tell him of course you are, anyways. 

Bucky doesn’t treat you much differently, but there is a strange shift.

You clamber out onto his fire escape with him as the evening dips into night, the last rays of the sun falling over all of Brooklyn in gentle gold and dainty, cotton-candy pink and blue, all swirling into the lullaby violet of an oncoming night sky. The city doesn’t sleep, the world below you full of life; people shouting, distant jazz music that slides through the streets, kids playing in the alley below as they try to drink up the last of the day, and the tired, working people who drag their feet home with crooked arches in their backs. 

The wind lifts your hair from your shoulders, tickles your collar bones. 

Bucky pulls out a cigarette- all the boys his age are smoking them- lights it with a little spark and takes a slow drag. 

He’s got too much weighing on his shoulders, the small Atlas that he is. Three sisters to worry about, a single mother, trying to nurse Steve back to health, and you know it’s hard times because the adults always say it. You know he worries and fusses. But he’s just a boy still, not quite a man to you, yet. 

He likes to be quiet with you sometimes, his shoulder brushing yours as the sun falls over him, eyes alight and soft and contemplative. 

But tonight, he says, pulling the cigarette from his lips, “You know, my ma thinks we’re gonna get married. Mrs. Rogers does,too.” 

This isn’t new to you; your own parents tease you about Bucky. They have since you were small, always attached to him, clinging to the sleeves of his shirt. But for some reason, this time it makes you flush. There’s a shift in the way he looks at you, a little softer, differently. Something inside of you unfurls slow and tentatively. You can’t name it but it makes you warm and vulnerable. 

“Yeah,” You exhale, “My parents think so, too.” 

He doesn’t quite respond; there’s no more whines of ew, no way! Girls are gross! Boys have cooties! That used to cloud your childhood. Now it’s just you and him and the words that settle between you like a chaperoning third. 

When he doesn’t respond at all, you reach over and pluck the cigarette from his fingers. His eyebrow quirks upward, “What are you--”

And you try and take a drag, just the way he always does. But you’re not expecting the way it burns and unfurls down your throat. You choke, sputter, then begin coughing as if you’re trying to get rid of your own lung. 

Bucky laughs, taking the cigarette back and you try and hit his shoulder but your eyes are watering, still coughing. You have no idea how he can smoke that--

But he puts his hand, growing and soft, on your back, rubbing in gentle circles until you can settle down. He teases you about it until the candy colored sky gives way to the blue of the night, until all that’s heard on the streets is the slow, faint crooning of jazz and the occasional car petering past on the streets below. 

-------------------------------------------

You’re fifteen and wide-eyed about the growing world ahead of you, curious and a little too innocent. You haven’t quite grown into yourself yet, awkward and fussing about things you never used to. 

Bucky and Steve have started to call you doll and dame and baby. They get all protective when other boys look at you now. Steve’s started fights over it, gotten black eyes and broken noses because he guards you a little too closely. Bucky’s started to bring girls around; you take to them well enough. You like to tell them embarrassing stories from when Bucky was young, they laugh and indulge you. One did your makeup once. 

You know they’re kind of his girlfriends because Stevie tells you. Or complains to you about it. 

But you still find yourself asking Bucky one night, both of you sitting too close on his old fire escape, “Have you ever kissed anyone, Bucky?” 

And he barks out a slight, surprised laugh. Your cheeks turn pink. He answers, “Yeah, sweetheart, I’ve kissed someone before.” And he cocks his head, looking a little older, nearly a man, as he studies you a moment. And then he asks, “Have you?” 

You shake your head, quick, “No!” And your cheeks warm further, burning up. You become sheepish, “Should I have?” 

Bucky bites his lip to keep from smiling at how flustered you’ve gotten, but he shrugs lightly. “If you want to, I guess.” 

“Has Stevie?” You press, tentative but too curious. 

Bucky eyes you again, but he nods, “Yeah, Stevie has, too.”

“As many as you?” 

He laughs again, full and warm and curling around you in a way that makes your heart stutters. 

“No,” He shakes his head, “Not as many as me.” 

He looks at you then, blue eyes glittering, one corner of his lips hitched up into the smile you’re so familiar with. He looks handsome, you realize, and you suddenly understand why the other girls coo and gush over him. You think about the girls he brings around, the way he holds their hands or puts his arm around their shoulders. You’re sure he kisses them and you--

You want him to treat you that way, too. 

And before you can think, you ask, “Would you kiss me?” 

His brows shoot up, lips parting slightly, “I--” He shakes his head, “No, I can’t.” He tells you and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach, your eyes suddenly swimming, heat welling up uncomfortably to prickle at your ears and neck. Why would you ask that? You mourn, fingers twisting nervously in the fabric of your blouse. 

Have you ruined everything? 

“Sorry,” You mutter, move to stand in a jerky, sharp movement. You want to leave, you want to leave and bury your face in your pillow and scream and cry and never see his face again. 

But Bucky snags your small wrist, catches you quick, “Hey,” He hushes, “Slow down.” And he tugs at you, until you give way and sink down onto your knees in front of him. You’re almost in his lap, too close, and you can feel him looking at you. But you’ve averted your eyes, turned your face from him and the delicate rays of sun. You’ve never felt so strange being so near to him until now. 

“It’s okay, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I was being stupid--” 

“You’re too young, is all.” 

Your eyes snap back to his, brows furrowing, “I’m only two years younger than you.” You protest.  

“I know,” He says, calmer than you feel, his hand, grown so big, still wrapped around your wrist. Your pulse flutters, hummingbird wings beating beneath the rough skin of his palm. But he shakes his head again slightly, “But you’re still-- you’re little to me.” 

You swallow, look away from him again, unable to face him this near. You feel young, you realize, inexperienced and unsure with a boy two years older than you. You feel mold-able and thin, cotton-candy heart and sugar-crushed feelings that are too easy to bend and shape and melt. The eagerness to impress him is caught in your chest and it’s always been there but now it’s different. Changed. Like you, like him. Sticky sweet with a touch of desire. Longing. 

He takes your chin between his fingers with his free hand, urges you to look at him. “It’s not you.” He promises, soft and reverent. You believe him. And he gives you a slight smile now, tipping your chin up, “Just grow a little and then I’ll kiss you, if it’s still what you want.”  

And he lets you go, lets you grow up untouched and seeking. 

---------------------------

True to his word, Bucky kisses you on the eve of your twenty-second birthday in the soft dark of your living room once everyone has left. 

He swears you taste like pink vanilla, cotton candy girl, the sweet warmth of your lips as he lays you out on the couch beneath him. You tremble soft and cling to him, small hands latching onto his patched up shirt, and he’s delicate and undeserving. 

It doesn’t feel like a sin when he moves down the line of your body, lips gentle and warm. He parts your legs, kisses soft against the skin of your hips, his hands now large and rough cradle your thighs. He settles between your legs as if he belongs there. 

You gasp, squirm, bury your fingers in his dark hair to try and ground yourself. You open for him, timid and with fluttering lashes as the warmth of his mouth touches your center. 

You jolt at the heat and a broken cry falls from your lips, hips arching and he tightens his hold on you, hushing you soft. “Relax,” He coos, rubbing his cheek against the sensitive, soft part of your inner thigh. His eyes find yours in the darkness, lower his lips down to where you need him most and you exhale shakily.

He takes you apart slowly, as if you have eternity to lay with your body bared to him and the sweet darkness. And after you’ve fallen apart for him, reached a peak and tumbled over with a delicate cry, he’d crawled back up your body and greedily, eagerly, you’d kissed and twined around him. Tasted yourself on his lips, foreign and strange but warming you from the inside out. 

You squirm, try to push your hips up into his, desperate for something you’ve never experienced. But he tells you, low and soft against your cheek, “Slow down, sugar.” And stills your hips with a broad palm. 

He kisses you leisurely, soothes you until all he does is hold you, determined to keep you by his heart, to take his time with you. There is a lot that Bucky has rushed, but you are not one he wants to add to that list. He isn’t quite sure he’s man enough, yet, isn’t sure he deserves you but all he does know is that he feels like he's holding the world with you in his arms. As if the sun rose and fell inside of him when he holds you. 

Fearful of losing you, of losing whatever it is that glimmers and burns between you two, that night is not mentioned again.  

You continue as friends, scared to push at each other, to drastically change all that you have and know. 

Regardless, nights like those happen again, few and far between, you both regard them as sacred and secret. Keep them bottled to your chest, precious and soft in their memories even as time goes on.

——————————————

Bucky is twenty-six and you are twenty-four when he receives the fateful, damning letter that requests his life for his country. 

“I’m comin’ with you.” Steve declares and your heart has dropped like a stone, down, heavy and hard into the pit of your stomach. 

“C’mon Stevie, you can’t leave me, too.” You try to joke but it comes out flat and wobbly. 

Steve swallows, looks away, some of that fury in his blue eyes dim.

Bucky looks older, you realize, like a man who's lived a life with a little too much weight on his shoulders, the Atlas that he is. He is quiet, holding the letter that wavers in his hand, paper soft and thin, like the wispy, cotton candy clouds outside his window. Morning pushes forward. Time pushes forward. The world keeps turning even if you feel yours has stopped.

He has two weeks until he gets his orders. Once you’d felt you’d have a lifetime with Bucky now becomes two weeks.

He promises you the best summer for what he has left; just like when you were kids.

———————————

On a sticky hot, hazy sort of day Bucky demands you and Steve go to Coney Island with him. There’s little you’ll deny him, and though Steve protests about it, he still tags along anyways. 

Steve throws up on the Cyclone not long into the day, though, face woozy and Bucky laughs when he shouldn’t as you both try and hold him up afterwards. You get him water and coo over him, playfully scolding Bucky who can’t get a sincere apology out without laughing like a schoolboy. 

“You’re a jerk, Buck.” Steve whines pitifully, cheeks flushed as he dry heaves into a small bag you’d found him after the ride. You rub his back, brush his blond hair from his face. 

Bucky looks at you over Steve’s shoulder, and you add, “He’s right.” But there’s a slight twist to your lips. 

“I’m sorry, pal, how was I supposed to know you’d hurl on it?” Bucky asks but he’s still smiling and Steve’s not really mad. You feel like a kid again, stuck to your two best friends, except Bucky looks at you differently now. 

After Steve has kept cool water down, you continue walking around, letting the sun fall onto your skin, warming you from the outside in. Bucky’s been dropping his arm over your shoulders, sliding his hand to the small of your back as you walk, ducking his head by your ear the way he does on the nights neither of you talk about. 

You don’t care, even if you should; Steve’s looking at you two a little strangely, perhaps wondering when your relationship shifted. And in truth, its happened so gradually and so simply that you aren’t quite sure, either. 

Bucky buys you cotton candy, the soft sugar that melts the moment it hits your tongue. It’s sticky and sweet around your lips, especially later, when Steve’s gone home and Bucky walks you home, kisses you goodnight on your doorstep. 

He cradles your cheek, tongue gliding along your bottom lip, tasting sweetness and candy. The sky behind him is sherbert orange, melted dreamsicle, and the tang of lemon as the sun glides lazily beneath the horizon of Brooklyn. Blue moon, soft and overarching, begins to bloom in the sky as you keep kissing him on your front step. You want to go fast and hard, desperate and needy but he forces you slow with his lips, the gentle demand making you syrupy and gooey beneath his palms. 

When he breaks away, he kisses your cheek, innocent and boyish before pulling away from you. You want to invite him in, but he steps away, respectful and gentlemanly. 

Some nights you wished he treated you like he treats other girls, kissing them hard, quick, messy. But not you, never you. 

“Goodnight, doll.” He says with a smile that makes your heart ache. 

“Goodnight, Bucky.” You say, a little breathless, watch as he walks away, whistling a gentle tune to himself with the last rays of light bathing him in gold. 

It sounds familiar, like the jazz that slipped through the city streets when you were young and tucked away on his fire escape. 

-------------------------------------

The last night that Bucky is in Brooklyn, he goes out with Steve, tries to wrangle him on a date for the final time. It’s bittersweet as he tries to pretend this is only one more normal day in his life. He promises to see you after, so you doze on the couch, in and out of a too-light sleep. All you can think about is seeing Bucky off tomorrow.  

You don’t hear him enter, only his hand on your shoulder, urging you awake, “Wake up, doll, it’s me.” And you blink up at him. He’s in his uniform still, hat crooked atop his head and you take him in. The man he’s become from the boy you once knew. 

You sit up, “You and Steve have fun?” You ask, rubbing at your eyes. 

“Stevie took off early. I danced a little, but I wanted to see you.” He says, brushing your hair from your face, tender and soft. 

You only have a moment to lean into his touch before he straightens up, moves to the record player in the connected kitchen. You hear him rustle around, find the right track before honey-slow jazz seeps out and fills your apartment. 

“I still want to dance. Will you dance with me, sweetheart?” He asks, taking his hat off and tossing it onto a kitchen counter. There’s little you deny him, so you find yourself stepping into his arms. 

There is no coyness tonight, you press yourself up against him, fit your body to his as he holds you tight and sways. Your apartment is dim and small, pressing you closer together, as if you could be the only two in the world left. You lay your head to his chest, commit his heartbeat to memory. 

One song dips into another, you’re still holding onto each other. Too tight, maybe, trying to keep out tomorrow and hold fiercely onto today. 

You lift your head to look up at him, to study his face but the moment you do, he leans down to press his lips to yours. It’s gentle at first but something inside him pulls taut before breaking because between one moment and the next, you’re being lifted onto the kitchen counter and his lips have become more demanding. 

You can’t help the gasp, can’t help the way you arch and squirm against him, desperate for him. How long have you been this desperate for him? Your hands disappear into his hair, tug and pull as if you could somehow get him closer. 

“Remember how everyone always said we’d get married?” He asks against your mouth, warm and voice rough. His eyes are half-lidded, almost sleepy but burning, jaded blue. 

Your heart nearly stops.

“Yeah,” You say cautiously, eyeing him, “What are you getting at, Bucky?” 

His lips drop to your neck, they seal over a tender spot below your ear, make your back arch into him. You hook a calf over his waist, pull his hips snug to yours. He almost whines against your neck, ruts into you like a teenager, half-wild and tenderly desperate. 

“Just that I wanna marry you, sweetheart.” He breathes and your heart does stop this time. You almost push him away, ask if he’s being serious, if he’s lost his mind but you can’t bring yourself to. 

“Are you proposing?” You ask, pulling away so you can look at his face. His nose runs along the plain of your cheek. 

“Not officially,” He murmurs, “But I--” He pauses, presses a kiss to your heated cheeks, “Would you wait for me, doll? If I asked you to?” 

You exhale shaky, your fingers curling into his hair, into his uniform jacket. Would you? You bite your lip, watch his eyes trace the movement with contained heat. It burns you, makes you squirm. Would you? 

“Yes,” You breathe before you can stop yourself but the answer is from somewhere deep and honest and base inside of you. It bubbles out before you can stop it. Has there ever been anyone else but him? Did you ever have any doubt? “Yes, Bucky, I’d wait for you if you asked.” You tell him softly, searching his face, eyes seeking and burning. 

“Then that’s what I’m asking, honey,” He rumbles, voice low, full of promise just before he kisses you on your open mouth. 

And there’s no preamble tonight, no soothing and slowing you, there’s nothing but the heavy reminder that tonight is your last night with him in a long, long time and the choiceless hope in what he’s just asked of you. 

He gets your blouse half undone, let’s your breast spill from the tops of your cotton candy pink brassiere, which he takes one look at and groans into the hollow of your throat, as if you ruin him, as if you’ve wrecked him. 

But then he’s gotten your skirt off, left it forgotten and misplaced on your kitchen floor. He pushes your panties to the side then, pulling you forward and easing into you as his lips move against yours. He burns and stretches sweet and perfectly--

It isn’t your first time but it feels a little like the last. 

You mewl, kitten soft and broken, clinging to his broad shoulders. He holds you as if you’re precious, rolls his hips in a way that makes your head tip back. His nose skims the line of your neck, lips sealing there, leaving red bloomed bruises to be remembered by. 

You won’t last long; as if the tether between the two of you has been made molten and warm from over the years, simmered with all your want and love of him . He fits in you perfectly. 

And he tells you so, “Babydoll, you’re everything.” He gruffs, “My perfect girl, Christ-- you feel so good.” His fingers dig lavender bruises into your hips, and you feel fragile and breakable in the best way possible. Too vulnerable and split open by him, the soft, sugar-sweet part of your heart bared to him.

“I love you,” You half gasp as he sinks deeper.

A moan is pulled from the depths of him, broken and ragged. “Say it again, baby, please,” He begs, lips wet and warm and open against your cheek.

“Fuck,” You choke, “I love you-- I love you.”  

It should take more than that, but it doesn’t, and the tension inside of you bursts outward in a flare of heat and desperation. You fall apart, body rippling, half-sobbing against Bucky’s shoulder. 

He doesn’t last much longer, pulling out and spilling onto your thighs, sticky mess in the afterglow as he nuzzles and kisses and rubs strong hands over you. He kisses your cheek, nose running gently against your jaw.

And he gives you a smile, lopsided and sweet, “I swear I’ll marry ya when I get back.” He promises and it hurts to hear him say just as much as it soothes you. 

You cup his face between your hands, pull him towards you to kiss hard and keep close. “Just come back to me, okay?” You breathe, pushing your forehead into his.

All he does is smile back boyish and crooked and young. You’re tugged back into your memories of him, growing up beside you, always looking out for you; the tender and delicate type of love that leaves you humming and open, unfurling beneath his gaze, cotton candy soft. You cannot remember when you started loving him this way, only that you can’t imagine ever not loving him now. 

He tells you “‘Of course,” As if he’d do anything for you. 

And looking at him, you think he just might. 

[incoherent-smiles]

happier

Pairing : Bucky x reader Warnings : ANGST, Sad ending A/N : Well, I was listening to Happier by Ed Sheeran and this popped into my head. Words : 1,482

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! REQUEST AWAY! 

Happy. You were always happy with Bucky,  you didn’t think it was possible to be happier. Everything was perfect with him. A bear hug from the super soldier was all it took to turn a bad day into a good one. You’d grown accustomed to his rough hands, yet surprisingly gentle grip; his soft and plump pink lips that kissed your nose so lovingly; his baby blues that you didn’t mind being lost in; his tall form towering over yours when he’d hold you; the way all of a sudden he’d hold your waist and pull you close; how he’d laugh, his tongue-behind-teeth smile. You’d grown accustomed to it – no, you’d fallen in love with it, with him.

So how’d you end up here? How’d you end up in an empty bed, waiting for him to come home at 2 am? How’d you end up crying yourself to sleep for 7 nights in a row? When did you stop feeling happy and start feeling unloved?Bucky was the love of your life, no matter the fights, the arguments, the screaming matches. You’d never seen anything like this before in your relationship, but you loved him, and you’d do anything to make your relationship work, even if making your relationship work meant fighting with him.

The Bucky you loved was different. The Bucky you loved was invested in your relationship, he made sure to never leave without kissing you, he baked chocolate cake with you, he made you pancakes with extra maple syrup; the Bucky you loved, love you. The Bucky you loved didn’t come home at 2 am –

Your thoughts were cut off by the sound of the door being unlocked. “Bucky?” your tired voice reached his ears, which was replied by as small ‘yes’. You immediately shot to you feet and walked in his direction. “Where were you?” You asked, looking at him. His hair was messy, his red Henley which you adored so much was crumpled and his eyes looked tired. “out,” he said, devoid of any emotions. “Well, as obvious as that was, it wasn’t what I meant.” Even if you’d been fighting, you were glad he was back home. Breathing a sigh of relief, you stepped closer, trying to pull him into a hug, only to be greeted with refusal.

This wasn’t the man you loved. Sure, they had the same face and physique, but they didn’t smell the same, hell, they didn’t feel the same. Your Bucky would never refuse to hug you, he took every chance he got to hold you. He smiled when you did, he laughed when you did. Your Bucky didn’t avoid your gaze, he didn’t stay out past midnight.

The Bucky you loved didn’t come home at 2 am smelling like cheap perfume. “Who is she?” It all became so clear- how he was avoiding you, and coming home late. It all made sense now.”Y/N,” “Who is she?” you asked, unaware of the tears streaming down you face. “I met her at the bar, she’s a waitress.” It felt as if your heart had been ripped out of your chest, and you were being forced to watch somebody stomping on it; as if someone kept stabbing you, waiting for enough time to let the wound heal, just to tear your all over again. Your silent cries had turned to loud sobs by now. Your body felt like it would collapse any moment now, and as if on cue, your legs gave out, causing you to sink to the floor. Tears clouded your vision, but not before you could see a certain super soldier coming your way.

“Bucky, you’re joking, right? It’s just a silly joke, because if not, it’s tearing me apart. Just tell me you’re fooling me.” “I wish I could, doll.” Taking a deep breath, you prepare yourself to speak, “ It’s already difficult as it is, so just tell me the truth and do not make me question you twice. Did you sleep with her?” There was a slight pause before he spoke, giving you a short-lived moment of hope. Fate, however, had different plans. “Yes,” your tears were flowing freely due to the newly acquired information. “Do you- do you love her?” “Y/N, I-” “Does she make you happy?” “Doll, listen to me-” “Are you happier with her?” “I am.” “well then,” you smiled sadly, “there’s no point in me holding you back. I’ll send somebody to get my stuff tomorrow.”

You got up, dusting your clothes. You took a few steps towards the door before you heard yourself speak, “Bucky? Can I have one last hug?” You walked back to him, fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt, hoping to hold the love of your life one last time. He wasted no time in pulling your into a bear hug, just like he always used to. You wrapped your arms around him, as tight as it was physically possible for you to, and a little more. When you let go, he stayed in the same position for a moment with a sad look on his face. You took in his features, his baby blues which were your favourite colour in this  entire universe, his soft lips and his straight brown hair. Your let out a laugh which all too soon turned into a loud sob, which was cut off by Bucky pressing his lips to yours. His hands were in your hair, while yours cupped his face. You kissed him with all your might, savouring every second, trying to engrave in your mind how his lips felt against yours. You pulled away and wiped a tear from your face. “I love you so, so much, Bucky Barnes.” And with that, you left.

It had been eight months since you and Bucky had broken up. Sure, it still hurt, but you’d never go back to him, not after what he did. You missed him on windy days, you two would stay all day on the couch, cuddling and watching horror movies, you missed him when you drank coffee – he always grimaced at how sweet you liked it, you missed him when you went to sleep, because your bed felt empty without him in it. It was safe to say you missed Bucky Barnes.

After a lot of convincing from Natasha, you decided to go out on a date. With whom, one might ask? Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist. Turns out, Stark had a thing for brown-eyed, art loving, cake eating, heart warmingly beautiful, yet unbelievably clumsy girls like you. You’d been dating for three weeks before you two made if official. Tony had a changed status, he was now only Genius, Billionaire, Philanthropist. He finally found someone worth staying loyal to. You loved Tony, and you were genuinely happy, after a long, long time. It was safe to say you no longer missed Bucky Barnes.

After you two broke up, Bucky felt something snap inside of him. He rarely went out or socialized with the rest of the team. The only person he really talked to was Steve. When Steve got to know Bucky cheated on you, boy oh boy was he mad. He’d gone to his house with the full intention of punching him in the face and breaking his nose. “You cheated on her?” He asked, swinging his fist to Bucky’s face, which Buck stopped mid-way [thank God for his enhanced reflexes, Steve had a mean right hook]. “God damn it, punk. I’m a lot of wrong things but a cheater isn’t one of them. My ma raised me right.” Steve was taken aback.“Then why does- Oh my God, Bucky. You didn’t cheat on her, did you?” His eyes widened at the sudden realization. “No, you idiot, I just bought some ladies’ perfume and lathered it all over myself.” He smiled bitterly at Steve. “Why’d you do it?” Bucky wiped away a tear, “because she deserves to be happy. She deserves all the happiness in this world, and probably even more, and I can’t give that to her. She deserves to be happier.”

When Bucky did join everybody, it was on Steve’s birthday party. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He’d come to know you were engaged to Tony, after all, it had been three years since you broke up.  He saw you in another man’s arms, walking towards the bar, laughing loudly at something Tony said. “You alright there pal?” Steve asked his best friend, patting his back. “She’s happier, Steve,” Bucky said, taking a big gulp of his beer. “Both their smiles are twice as wide as ours. She’s happier.” Steve smiled sadly at him, “You still love her, don’t you?” Bucky’s face had tears streaming down, smiling, he said, “I can always smile to hide the truth – that I was happier with her. But look at her, Steve, she’s happy – no, she’s happier.”