#(Still love the idea of the bandages on Angel's head are like a fake halo)

[kathyrealmstales]

Been busy, have this quick comic I made when free.

[omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts]

Not My Type, Part Five (Bucky Barnes X Reader)

Summary: After catching Bucky in the gym, tensions are high and slowly rising as you watch him train on the punching bag. You get a little help from your friends and are begrudgingly pushed in the right direction. Then a masquerade party takes place for Wanda’s birthday and the two of you are at odds when others begin to flirt with you, leading to a series of heated moments. Author’s Note: Okay... But yeah, this one is a doozy and will leave you hot and bothered hehehehehe have fun. I kind of rambled on with this one, lots of words, but it’s super sweet and sappy and ugh. And thank you, @ugh-supersoldiers​ for the inspiration you’ve give me I love your writing sm, super freaking talented. UGH anyway enjoy! FC; Rachel McAdams @rosegoldhome

Song Choice: Can’t Help But Falling In Love (cover) by Twenty One Pilots 

Warnings: fluff, MAJOR fluff, angst, jealousy, PDA, the end leading into smut the next chapter ;)

PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK, I LOVE IT

You walk into the training room and set eyes on Bucky taking out his frustrations on a punching bag, doing perfectly timed and damaging hits and high-kicks. You watch him move gracefully and dangerously, stepping quietly into the room so he doesn’t hear you arrive while you continue to gaze openly at his flawless, fighting skills. His face is set in a tense, stone cold expression, clearly from something heavy weighing on him, but instead of open communication, he does this. Spending alone time in the gym with no one around at five in the morning, the sun barely being up in the empty room. His loud groans and noises waking you up, but you don’t mind, enjoying the view playing out in front of your eyes. And your eyes only. The white tank sticking to his chest from the sweat, beads of it dripping from his brow and down his temples, tan skin glistening, and hair pulled back in a bun, a few messy tendrils falling over his azure eyes. Bucky grunts hard when the bag swings back to him and he kicks it roughly in retaliation, causing it to fly off the punching bag and burst on the floor. He walks over to where his duffel bag lays and begins unwrapping the bandages around his knuckles, breathing heavily, not looking up but he’s smiling softly when he says, “Hey, doll.” You jump slightly, hands flying behind you to grip the doorway before you send him a shaky smile when he turns around to look at you. “Hi,” you breathe, suddenly aware of the sports bra and yoga pants you’re sporting and how his eyes are subtly washing over the work-out ensemble, before tearing his gaze away from you. There’s been tension between you two these last few weeks, with you confessing to him that you still love him after all these years and his emotional barriers keeping him from saying it back. Even when he wants to. It’s hard for them and you know that, he’ll do it in time. It’s to be expected with all that he went through, and it pains you whenever the horrid thoughts come to mind, what those people did to him. Because you’re the first girl he’s fallen in love with, and it’s painful, needing you with him at all times, heart slowly aching when you leave the room, stuck thinking about you and waiting for you to find him in the tower at all hours of the day, and missing your angelic smile when you’re not around. It’s you, you, you, in his head, all the time, and he can’t get you out as the old memories are being triggered, floating to his mind. So, needless to say, he’s very happy to see you in here right now with him, and he may or may not have made more noise than usual to wake you up. Of course you know that, though.  He risks another glance in your direction, “You training today?” he asks, faking nonchalance when his fists are still clenched while he puts back his things. You nod, cheeks red in embarrassment when you offer him a sweet smile. “Yeah, uh... someone woke me up,” you flit your eyes to him. “So, why not, right?” “That someone must have wanted to see you...” he says quietly, looking at you too, smirking. “I say that’s a pretty good plan in that respect, very sweet, actually.” “Oh, yeah,” you nod, laughing softly. “Waking me up and making me grumpy early in the morning is a great plan, darling,” you say, realizing you walked the length, nostalgic, southern twang from your youth seeping into your words, rolling your tongue on the last word.

He tenses at the pet name and a blush falls over his cheeks, tinging the tips of his ears uncovered by his hair and shown to you. You smile at this and look at the floor, cocking an eyebrow and looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

“I missed you calling me that,” he half-smirks and your heart skips a beat.

You capture your bottom lip between your teeth and he watches the action adoringly, “I missed being able to,” you say softly, finally letting Bucky peek into the pain you’ve gone through being without him. 

He looks at your eyes as they become glassy and he frowns, stepping towards you, “Please don’t cry, angel, not over me.”

You laugh weakly, wiping at your eyes like it never happened, “I’m not- I’m not going to cry, I spent too much time crying.” You shake your head, “I’m done with that.”

“Good,” he finally crosses the distance between you two and wipes the stray tear that’s fallen on your cheek, thumbing over your skin. “I don’t like seeing my girl upset.”

“Your girl?” you grin at that. “What makes you think you have me...” you say defiantly, tilting up your chin and brushing your lips over his, “Darling?”

He giggles adorably, blushing hard again, “Because you love me,” he smiles.

“Hm,” you smirk. “The jury’s still out on that one.”

“Then why are you blushing when I touch you, doll?” he whispers in your ear, making you gasp when he kisses your temple. “You’re a tease, I’ll give you that, but you’ve never been good at lying.”

“And you are?”

“Oh, yeah, you can’t survive in this world if you aren’t.”

“Well, I’ve made my way just fine.”

He quirks an eyebrow in disbelief, “Have you, though?”

You scoff and take his wrist in your hand, spinning him around and pinning it behind his back, dropping him to his knees on the mat.

He chuckles darkly, “Damn, doll, you’re stronger than I remember.” You let go of his hand and smile smugly at him, “And you’re weaker than I remem- Shit!” an arm’s wrapped around your waist and you’re being flipped over before you can finish your sentence, hitting the mat hard. You laugh breathlessly, having the wind knocked out of you from slamming your back against the floor, (y/h/c) spread around your head like a halo, how unfitting. “We always end up in this position, don’t we, Barnes?” you turn to look up at him, hovering over your body, positioned between your legs, and smile shining down on you, brighter than the sunlight flooding through the wall full of windows. “I’m afraid you’re becoming predictable, Sergeant,” you tilt your head, curling your lips intentionally and accidentally rolling your hips against his, creating an agonizing friction and making Bucky inhale sharply, holding himself tightly. “Interesting,” he leans down and brushes his lips, teasing the skin up your neck, and burying his nose in your hair, inhaling the familiar scent with a small smile that you mirror back to him. “You used my shampoo, doll?” You turn to him, bumping noses in the process and smiling delightfully when you bite your lip, feigning innocence and covering up the new rosiness in your cheeks, “I-I have no idea what you’re talking about, James.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he smiles, kissing your neck. “I think it’s cute,” he tickles your neck with his lips and you throw your head back in laughter. 

“I’ll have to do it more often, then.”

He looks at you sincerely for a moment, searching all over you like he’s attempting to find the answer written on your skin, sheepish all of a sudden, speaking before you can ask what’s the matter.

He clears his throat and your lips are only breaths apart, “Doll... I-” “Hey! Nuh-uh, that’s my employee you have pinned beneath you, Sarge,” Tony steps into the room, motioning for him to get off of you. “There will be none of that in my training room.” Bucky sends you an apologetic smile before pushing himself off of you, and pulling you up with him, crashing into his brick-wall like chest, out of breath.  “What... what were you going to say?” you ask him under your breath so only he can hear. He shakes his head, “Nothing, doll. I’ll-uh,” he forces a smile to assure you but his eyes betray him. “I’ll get out of your way.”

You sigh, “Bucky?” you call after him as he gets his stuff and walks out of the room.

Tony looks sympathetically towards you, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”

You licks your lips thoughtfully, and shake your head, smiling gratefully at your friend, “No, you’re not. How long were you watching us, Stark?”

He rolls his eyes, “Too long,” he shivers theatrically, sending you a wink. “I just came in here to tell you about the masquerade party tonight for Wanda’s birthday-”

“Which was my idea,” Nat says with an annoyed expression when she walks into the room, gym bag string over her shoulder. Then she looks at you with a sweet smile, mood brightening when she sees you, “Hi, (y/n), someone’s up early?”

“And who’s paying for this idea of yours?” Tony glowers at Natasha and she only smirks, her response to almost anything, especially when you’re pretty and skilled enough to get away with everything.

“Just because you have the money, Stark, doesn’t mean you get all the credit,” she finally replies. “And you, (y/n), haven’t answered my question.”

“She got up for Grease Lightning, or in other words,” he says, folding his arms over his chest, Black Sabbath shirt and all, leaning against the doorway. “Her Bucky Boo Bear, her darling.”

You bury your face in your hands, “You heard that?”

“Oh, doll,” he taps his temple. “I hear everything.”

Nat squeezes your shoulder, “Come on, (y/n), don’t be embarrassed, Wanda and I’ve even got you a dress.”

“Yeah, good plan, get Heavy Metal even more sexually frustrated,” Tony rolls his eyes. “That poor guy hasn’t gotten laid since 1945.”

“But, really, (y/n), whatever you wear,” Nat looks at you seriously, softness in her tone. “Bucky will still be as madly in love with you as he was in the 1940′s, I know that much. And I didn’t even have to be there to tell you that now. I am a spy, after all, I pick up on a those kind of things.”

“And I know that look, sunshine,” Tony smiles, giving you his best heartfelt and supportive voice. “I’ve given that look. And I’ve received that look. You need to hold onto that and never let it go.”

Nat looks taken back when she smiles, “That was actually very sweet, Tony.”

“I expect gratitude and affection in exchange for my wisdom,” he says, holding his arms out and gesturing for you to come hug him. You roll your eyes and walk over, wrapping your arms around your dear friend.

Nat shakes her head, “You’re not getting any hug from me.”

You grab her hand and pull her in, Tony capturing her in the embrace and she sighs, sinking into it and patting your back reluctantly.

“What!” Clint appears in the hallway. “There’s a group hug in here and I wasn’t invited?” he jogs into the room, joining the hug and squeezing you into oblivion.

Steve peeks his head into the room, “Group hug? I heard group hug,” he grins, walking in and wrapping his arms around everyone, picking almost everyone off the floor. 

“SOMEONE SAY GROUP HUG!” Sam yells from down the hall.

Tony pushes everyone off and out the door, “Everyone scatter!”

~~~

The dress Wanda and Nat picked out for you is extravagant to say the least, off the shoulder, a baby blue color that brought out your (y/s/c), a cinched waist with a 40′s style flared waist, the floral train hitting the floor far behind you, long, ringlet curls down your shoulders, lips painted deep red, and eyes covered with a black, lace mask, adorned with gold and silver accents. If only you knew the eyes all are on you as you’re far too distracted searching for the man you want to see the most. 

Bucky had already caught sight of you on the other side of the room, a movie moment plain and simple, he knows it to be you immediately even with the mask. His eyes widen when he sees how beautiful you look, stunned and speechless, falling over your curves, swearing everyone else in the room has blurred away. He has to pinch himself to figure out if he is only dreaming, that he’s gone to heaven and among an angel. When he feels the sting in his flesh arm, he’s brutally aware of his staring when you finally find him. 

You meet his eyes over the swarms of people crowding the room, soft, orchestra music filling the entirety of the tower and easing everyone into finding a partner and dancing. You haven’t been dancing since the 40′s, because, in the words of your old, good friend, Peggy Carter...

You’ve simply not found the right partner yet. Or in your case you both have and are too afraid to ask. 

You bite back a smile, but it’s useless, you’re full blown grinning while he’s looking at you, words not finding either of you when you set eyes on each other.

He sports a raven blazer and slacks, fitting in all the right places you think, hair slicked back elegantly, pulled at the back of his head in a knot, deep blue mask bringing out his eyes, and you too, are at a loss for words. The outfit all pulled together... with a baby blue tie.

You turn around to see Tony, Nat, and Wanda raising their champagne flutes in your direction, clinking the glasses together and smiling to themselves, smug as all hell.

“Who told?” you mouthed to them, frowning.

“I might have let it slipped what color your dress was,” Wanda tells you over the music and chattering people, smirking over the rim of her glass, pink lipstick staining.  

“Make him work for it, (y/n),” Nat smiles.

“If you’ve got it, sunshine, flaunt it!” Tony says, too loudly.

Peppers saddles up at his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around her waist, “Meddling in other’s love lives again, I see. How’s that working out for you?”

“Rather well, actually,” he grins at her and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. “It’s what got me you, right?”

“I’d say it worked out nicely, then,” Pepper smiles and leans her head on his shoulder.

“Hey... um,” Bucky taps Steve on the shoulder, never taking his gaze off you as you grin at something Tony says. “Steve, I’m going to... I’m gonna g-go get a drink.”

Steve looks to where he’s looking and shares a knowing look with Sam who’s already smirking at your exchanging glances. “Alright, Buck, go get a drink.”

“Yeah because someone’s thirsty,” Sam says, taking a sip of his drink for good measure.

Bucky sends him a death glare before making his way over to you, visibly tensing when he sees all the men unable to take their eyes off of you in that dress. Already he has a love/hate relationship with it, and like he said, he knows it to be selfish and possessive, not telling you he loves you and yet he can’t fathom the thought of someone else’s hands on you besides his own.

He takes a glass of aged whiskey from the server’s plates and continues walking to you while you’re preoccupied with scoping out the party, still eyeing the people who are making crude movements in regards to you. 

Bucky’s grip tightens on his glass and it breaks within his grasp, shards hitting the floor and concerned, wiry looks are drawn to him. 

You search the party room as you idly swirl your straw around your cherry coke, finding women glancing in Bucky’s direction, whispering among their friends and giggling like little school girls with a crush, all that he doesn’t notice. You feel your blood boil beneath your blazing skin, attempting to hold it in until you see a man smile to his friend and cross the room to you.

Bucky shakes his head, his own insecurities rising to the surface and getting the best of him, as he storms out of the ballroom. 

You watch him leave and turn to Wanda, the reason you’re at the party in the first place, and she nods with a small smile. You return it graciously, hold up the ends of your dress and run out into the hall, heels clicking the tiled floor as you sprint in uncomfortable shoes to find the man you love. 

The back door leading to garden outside stays slightly open and you sigh a breath of relief, rushing out the open door and biting on your lip hesitantly, hoping he’ll even want to see you. 

“Bucky?” you say, voice low and quiet, shaking slightly. “Babe, I’m-”

Lips crash into yours and arms are wrapped around your waist hastily, kissing the life out of you. You meet a pair of familiar, azure eyes and yours flutter shut, you bring your hand up to run a hand through his hair, the familiar dark locks making your heart soar when you come in contact with them. Kissing you has become like breathing to him, so sweet, so familiar, and he needs it to survive, his heart will stop without it. His lips make up for the talking his mouth never does.

Your back hits the wall roughly behind you and he kisses you hard as you wrap your arms around his neck, greedily taking him in. Mine, mine, mine, you both think, pulling one another closer until there’s barely even room for air. Then you taste the saltiness of a tear into your kiss, breaking away to see his that his eyes are glassy.

“Bucky...” you whisper, cupping his face in your hand. “Bucky, baby, what’s wrong? Tell me.”

“I’m so sorry, doll,” he shakes his head and his voice breaks towards the end, holding your face in his hands as yours falls to your side. “I’m sorry that I’ll never be good enough for you. I’m sorry I haven’t had the guts to tell you how damn much I love you.”

“Bucky,” you breathe, bringing one of his hands to rest over your heart. “This is yours. My heart... only belongs to you. I love you. I’ve loved you for almost a century,” you laugh softly, bringing a smile to his lips. “I’m not going to stop, I love you for all that you are and all that you can be. No one else.”

His eyes are all over your face and his heart practically leaps out of his chest while his lips twitch in a small, tender smile, “Really?”

You nod, grinning, “Really.”

Bucky takes your face in his hands once again and presses his lips to yours, causing your knees to buckle out from beneath you and him to wrap an arm securely around your waist to steady you. The kiss is slow at first, kissing each other languidly and softly, holding each other close for fear of the other disappearing. But no, they’re both here, hearts thumping into one. 

His other arm runs down your side and hikes up your gown’s skirt, the kiss growing feverish and fast-paced, needy and wanton. He pulls you up and you straddle his hips with your legs, wrapping them around his lean waists, and your back hits the wall haphazardly once again, throwing all caution to the wind when he catches your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs. He swallows your moans and tightens his grip on your bare thighs, half-moons delving into the flesh. He smiles against your lips and you tangle your fingers in his long hair.

“I love you so much, doll,” he whispers into the side of your neck and he continues to say in between kisses down your neck and over your ample chest, scattering his lips all over your open skin and whatever he can get to. 

He sucks hard on your neck, biting, nipping, lapping his tongue over the marks he’s making to soothe the spot, reveling in the noises leaving your swollen lips as he continues to slide his hands up your thighs, slowly reaching where you need him most. 

You lean your head against the wall and let out a breathy laugh followed by an adoring smile, “Your room or mine, James?”

He looks up at you and wears a big, goofy grin, peppering kisses all over your face and making you giggle, “Whichever’s closest, doll.”