#Bucky Barnes Soulmate

[mischievous-thunder]

Is this the official pose of fighting for superhero couples? Is this also the official pose for trying to calm your feisty partner?

Is this how they reassure each other?

Is this how they protect the love of their life? Is this common amongst enhanced superhero soulmates?

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl.

Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).

Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

next chapter (two).

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.

You wish people would shut up about it.

The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.

You fall into the latter.

You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.

You're not sure you ever want it to happen.

The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"

You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.

"Sure. I'll see you in ten."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."

You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.

"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.

The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.

"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"

She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.

"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."

As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."

"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.

"Like fucking magic."

You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.

"Magic?" you prompt.

"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"

She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.

"So, what's his name? What's he like?"

"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."

You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.

"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"

"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."

You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.

"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"

"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"

"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"

"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"

You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.

"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."

"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."

Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.

"Hi, Mama."

"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."

She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.

"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."

"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."

She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.

"You've poured four, Mama."

"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."

"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."

"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"

She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.

He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.

Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.

She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.

It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.

Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.

"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.

"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.

"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.

The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.

"Tell me about it."

"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."

"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."

"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."

"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."

"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."

"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."

"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."

"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.

And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.

"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.

"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."

You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.

"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."

You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.

"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.

"You got big late night plans?" you tease.

"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."

Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"

"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."

"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.

You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.

"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.

"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"

They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.

"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.

"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.

"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.

"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.

"Maybe?" he smirks.

"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."

You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"

You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I fucking love the beach."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.

The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.

The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.

A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.

"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."

He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."

Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.

"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."

"And what is this?"

"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."

You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.

"Me too," he whispers.

You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.

"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."

You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.

"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"

He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."

"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.

"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.

"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"

"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."

He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.

"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.

"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."

"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."

You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.

"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."

"You're the best, sugar."

You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"

The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."

"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.

Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.

"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"

You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."

He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.

"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.

"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.

Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.

"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."

You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.

He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.

And then, it happens.

Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.

Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.

Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.

After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.

You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.

He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.

You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.

He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.

"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.

A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.

"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.

You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.

Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.

You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.

A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.

"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."

"My soulmate," you whisper.

The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.

Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.

"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.

He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.

"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."

"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.

"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."

You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.

You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.

"My honey girl."

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[capibuck]

December, 1943. You are beautiful, even when you sleep.

I have COMMISSIONS OPEN if you're interested 🧡

Support my art on Ko fi ☕, please.

[nickfowlerrr]

can you feel it?

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader (soulmate au)

warnings: really nothing but fluff. mentions of light baking burns. lmk if something needs to be tagged.

words: 2.3k

notes: this is my entry for @lunarbuck’s soulmate challenge. i used the prompt: you cannot feel pain until you meet your soulmate.🩵 and thank you to @dreamlandcreations for beta reading/editing my first draft!

Mmm, you hummed mindlessly. 

The sweet, warm aroma of your latest batch of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies swirled through your small bakery, filling your nose and eliciting a smile from you as you walked to the back counter, setting down the hot tray you were holding.

You slid off the oven mit you wore and tossed it carelessly before you spun around to get the last tray of dough in the oven.

Your fingers brushed the hot grate of the oven as you slipped the tray in, and though you couldn’t feel the pain or burn of it, you still mentally chided yourself for not being more careful. 

It was mid-September, that time of year when summer was still the season, but fall was all around. 

You had been messing with some seasonal recipes for the past few days and had most of your impending fall lineup set. You were going to start slow with the roll out, and today was the first day you’d have these cookies out in the display. 

You were a bit overly excited, but you hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that today would be a great day since you’d gotten up. Even Nickie calling to let you know she’d be late for her shift hadn’t dampened your mood. 

You sipped from the straw of your cold brew, floating aimlessly around the quaint space while you were waiting for the cookies to cool, the oven to go off, or a customer to walk in. You’d swept the floor and cleaned the counters and tables a good three times now despite their already pristine state. It was a slow day, but you knew not to expect many people until after noon.

You eventually found yourself staring out the large glass window at the front of the shop, looking out onto the picturesque town street, watching the few passersby and the leaves that were blowing around; the branches of the trees that lined the streets swaying gently in the late summer breeze. 

You weren’t sure why, but as you stood there gazing out the window, you suddenly found yourself growing eager, a sense of excitement coming over you. You felt like you were waiting for something…someone.

Just as the feelings were put into words in your mind, the ringing of the entrance bell sounded and pulled you from your thoughts. You tutted quietly at yourself before you turned and went to greet whoever it was.

You stopped short on your hello when you saw Nickie pulling off her cardigan.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” you said with a teasing smirk and a raised brow.

Nicki smiled guiltily, “Sorry,” she offered through a nervous titter, “Eli’s alarm didn’t go off, so we were both scrambling this morning.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you brushed off her apology, “it’s been pretty quiet so far.”

“It smells amazing in here, did you make the pumpkin cookies?”

“Last batch is in the oven right now,” you nodded with a grin. “There’s some in the display case already, grab one, tell me what you think,” you said, walking over to meet her behind the counter.

You grasped your hands together while you leaned against the side of the register, anxious to get her thoughts.

Nickie grabbed a cookie and just as she was about to take a bite, the bell on the door rang again. You turned, smiling to offer your usual, “Hello, welcome in!”, but your voice caught in your throat when you did, only managing out a half hello.

Your eyes met steel blue as the man who had just entered stalled in his path for a brief second. He blinked then and seemed to correct his posture, clearing his throat, eyes never leaving yours, “Hi,” he offered.

“Welcome in,” you breathed, voice much quieter than you intended it to be.

You couldn't seem to take your eyes off of him as he approached the counter. He was tall, well built with dark hair, and god, those eyes. You could swim in them, they were so blue. He looked effortlessly cool, wearing a dark canvas jacket with the collar popped ever so slightly over a plain charcoal henley, his black jeans and boots completing the outfit as a chain of silver showed a bit from above his shirt collar. The dark color scheme worked well for the weather and for his features. The blue of his eyes even more emphasized by the color of his clothing. His jaw was square and sharp, and the structure of his cheekbones brought attention to the bags under his eyes. But they, along with his five o’clock shadow, only added to his aesthetic. You wondered if he knew that, if he was aware. You’d seen many a man who wore the same style, but it was so clearly put on. This seemed to be very him. Not that you knew him, of course, but still it was evident. 

It occurred to you though, as cool as he seemed, there was the tiniest bit of pink coloring his cheeks as he slyly rubbed his neck, before he finally stood before you, that betrayed his air of cool.

Nickie looked between the two of you with a quirked brow as you began taking the man’s order.

Your fingers twiddled over the screen in your nervousness while he looked over the menu, musing aloud before he moved to walk the display case. 

“What’s your favorite?” he asked, a wave of self assurance growing over him as he casually shoved his hands in his pockets, turning to watch you as you forced your own hands to still before standing up a bit straighter at the question. It was innocent enough, despite the smoothness of his words and the smile that played on the corner of his lips as he recognized your fidgeting for what it is - your own nerves bounding around you. 

“Oh, um,” you took a breath, thinking for a second, “I’m pretty partial to the classics, actually,” you said with a small smile, moving down a bit to be closer to where he stood, a bit of your own self assurance coming over you in turn. “The pink sugar cookie and the chocolate chip are probably the biggest sellers, too. But, in my humble opinion, you really can’t go wrong with whatever you choose.”

He smiled at you as you let your own gaze drift down to the case of treats before you.

“If you want to try anything, we do samples, so-” you were about to start rambling when the oven went off, both of you looking over at the sound.

“I’ll get it,” Nickie called from the small kitchen, just past the back counter, where she had gone to eat her cookie.

You turned back to the man and were met with his eyes already on you, both of your brows raising in quiet surprise. He was closer to you now than he was a moment again, and you tittered. You couldn’t fight the small smile that cracked on your face, and he returned a soft one of his own.

“Did you wanna-” you were cut off by Nickie as she looked around, growing a little frantic.

“Do you know where the oven mit is?”

“Oh, I had it..” you tried to think where it could have landed when you’d tossed it earlier, making a face as you came up empty, moving to search the area with her. “Ahhh. I don’t.. Damn,” you breathed.

You took another quick glance around before you moved to the oven. You really didn’t want them to burn.

“I’ll just grab it really fast,” you told Nickie as you pulled the oven door open.

She cringed at the thought, “I know you can’t feel it, but still, you shouldn’t do that,” she warned.

“I’ll be fine,” you assured her, “I’ll put them down super quick, can you just clear the counter and then we’ll move them to the rack in a minute.”

You could feel the man’s eyes on you still, and as you reached to grab the tray, you turned to speak to him, “Sorry. If you want to try anything, just let me know.”

As you were turning and talking, you blindly grabbed the tray. 

It took a second for it to hit you but then all at once you felt the burn. 

You quickly let go, pulling your hand back with a harsh gasp before you could get the cookies out. You grasped onto your wrist out of instinct as the pain burned through you.

“Fuck,” you cursed as you gripped your hand. 

“Are you okay?” both the man and Nickie asked in unison, watching you with concern. 

You flicked your eyes up to the man before looking over at Nickie. 

“It.. it hurts,” you said, confused by the fact that you felt it at all, and yet knowing full well what that had to mean.

“Oh,” she breathed in response, her gaze flicking over to the man still standing at the counter, but getting closer, all the while keeping his eyes on you. She blinked, eyes rounding slightly as she looked at you once more, “I’ll get a towel or something.”

She rushed away while you groaned softly. Both at the stinging burn and the fact that your cookies were definitely getting too baked.

“Just grab whatever will work,” you called to her, “they’re gonna burn if we leave them any longer.”

“I can grab them for you,” the man offered as he approached you, coming around the counter to where you were. “I uh, I haven’t met my soulmate, so…” he seemed a little embarrassed by the confession as you stared at him dumbly. 

Your mind was racing with all the things you wanted to say to him, but your tongue was refusing to move as you stood there holding your hand.

He stepped closer, and it seemed he was waiting for your permission as he nodded to the oven. You looked at him and then to the tray of cookies waiting to be taken out. You took a step back and gave him room to get to the tray. A part of you wanted to warn him that you’d thought the same thing when you’d grabbed it, only to be proven wrong, but another wanted to confirm that... that it was him.

You watched intently as he reached into the oven. It felt like he was moving in slow motion while you waited for his hand to make contact with the metal tray.

He grasped it and his forehead creased, brows furrowing as he quickly moved from the oven to drop it onto the back counter. You were holding your breath and almost deflated until you realized he was cursing under his when he was holding the tray.

“Shit,” he cursed once more, shaking out his hand, his brows still drawn together. You were staring at him with rounded eyes as you continued clutching your own burn.

You offered him your name and you stepped closer, your voice making him lift his gaze from examining the burn on his hand, up to you.

His brilliant eyes seemed to twinkle in understanding as he met your own. He breathed a smile, mirroring your movements and taking a step to you in turn.

“James. You can call me Bucky,” he simpered.

“Bucky,” you nodded as your lips curled into a soft smile of your own. “Thank you, for saving the cookies,” you offered.

“You’re welcome. Should maybe invest in some more oven mitts, though,” he joked with a mirthful smirk playing on his lips.

“I should,” you agreed with a nod and a light laugh. “Sorry about your hand.. I uhm, I have a first aid kit in the back,” you gestured with your head, “burn cream included.”

“That’d be good,” he said, “and you have nothing to be sorry about, I offered,” he continued, trailing you to the back. Nickie passed you sheepishly, though she gave you a small, knowing smile as she went to watch the front.

You swallowed hard and cleared your throat of your nerves as you worked to collect yourself, gathering your bearings with this turn of events.

“So... Bucky, huh?” you said as you grabbed the stuff you needed from the kit and watched him lean against the empty counter. You walked back over to him as he waited for you.

“Yeah. It’s uh,” he stifled a small hiss as you smeared some ointment onto his burn, gently holding his hand as you did. There was something about the soft touch that you couldn’t quite explain. The way it makes you feel, something you’ve never felt before. It wasn’t like the pain, it was more like a comfort, but still it was new. “It’s usually reserved for friends...family, but I think soulmate fits in there, too,” he smiled charmingly at you before taking the tube of cream from your hand. “Unless you like James more,” he offered, “honestly, I’d probably answer to whatever you wanted to call me,” he flirted easily.

You held your breath at the touch, and let out a soft titter at his words, a spark stemming from his hold as you let him put some ointment on your small burn. 

“I think I’ll go with Bucky for now,” you smiled, meeting his brilliant blue gaze.

“So I- I’m not too sure how this goes…” he started, a self-deprecating smile sitting crooked on his lips while he let go of your hand, somewhat reluctantly, once he was done with the cream, setting the tube on the counter before looking back at you, “but I was thinking we could start with dinner.”

There was a twinkle in his eye again, hope shining through, and you were sure your gaze held much the same as you waited for him to ask. “Are you free tonight?”

[darsynia]

Adversarial 1/? (Bucky/Mechanic!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | RO ROLL MASTERLIST | gif by @dailybuckybarnes

Summary: The textbooks all say that finding your soulmate feels like figuring out your place in the world, something you’ve always thought was utter bullshit, but--

…but your soulmate has a mechanical arm

Word Count/Warnings: 4,000 | explicit sex

As 2/7 of my birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, adVERsarial is a Soulmate AU 'enemies to lovers' with a brash, outspoken f!reader. Stay tuned for more, and feel free to drop a comment if you'd like to be on the tag list!

Excerpt:

“Are you the lead mechanic? Stark said I could find them here.”

“I am, and I’ll be honest, I’m more than a little bummed out that those aren’t the words written all over my mitt, here,” you tell Captain America, holding up your (grime-covered, unreadable) left hand.

A ripple of… something tugs his eyebrow upward for a few seconds, and he smiles politely. “I get that a lot.”

You feel the burn of triumph in your chest and move in for the killing blow. “Oh really? I wish you’d kept a list, Rogers, because I’d love to meet more female mechanics.”

Adversarial

Your soulmate can go straight to hell.

First of all, your Words are written on your fucking hand, and it almost takes up the whole thing! Who the fuck thought that was okay?

Schools don’t let you cover your hands, did your jerkface soulmate ever think of that? No? Classic.

Oh, and then there are the bullies. So. Many. Bullies. Telling the new kids to come up and say the words to greet you was predictable, but exploiting teachers’ inherent laziness-- ‘but Mrs. DoNothing, I was just reading the words off her hand!’ --was icing on the shit sundae.

You graduated from that hellhole, moved as far away as possible, and got a job that would cover you in gunk so you wouldn’t have to think about your Words every single day.

Now it’s seven years later and your boss asks you to come along on his fancy-ass job at the Avenger Hideout in upstate New York. You’re sure you’ll be kicked to the curb when you meet Stark himself, though. The man is snark incarnate, and you can rarely pass up an opportunity to mouth off.

“‘Sit down and shut up if you want to stay alive,’” he quotes, right after the handshake. The smug look on his face is warranted, because working with the Avengers is one of the few times your soulmate words apply to regular life.

“Yeah I’ll stay standing if it’s all the same to you,” you smile, with too many teeth and everything. You usually choose something more spicy, but you really want this job. Besides, Stark’s soulmark words are well known, so you don’t have to speak to history here.

“As long as you keep your death wish to yourself like everyone else in the asylum, we’re cool. Welcome aboard.”

The Avengers Compound is pretty sweet, actually, and your coworkers don’t seem like the typical stooges. It takes almost a month to persuade them that you really do enjoy the dirtiest, toughest jobs, and after that everything is smooth, filthy sailing. It’s always a good day if you end it needing a long, hot shower and half a bottle of degreasing soap.

There’s an iPad mounted within floor-view for people to text you if they need something. It doubles as your personal DJ, so when the sound cuts out, you slide your ass out from underneath the Quinjet you were servicing to find a pair of boots standing next to it. As you rise gracefully (read: clamber) to your feet, their owner speaks.

“Are you the lead mechanic? Stark said I could find them here.”

“I am, and I’ll be honest, I’m more than a little bummed out that those aren’t the words written all over my mitt, here,” you tell Captain America, holding up your (grime-covered, unreadable) left hand.

A ripple of… something tugs his eyebrow upward for a few seconds, and he smiles politely. “I get that a lot.”

You feel the burn of triumph in your chest and move in for the killing blow. “Oh really? I wish you’d kept a list, Rogers, because I’d love to meet more female mechanics.”

Until this point, he’d been holding himself like the soldier that he is, with the same stiff courtesy you’d seen from his rare television appearances. That all falls away, now. Rogers clears his throat, hitting his fisted hand on his chest as though knocking loose his initial impression of you, then extends that hand out for you to shake.

Your eyebrows skyrocket at just how much grease he’ll end up with if he goes through it, but Captain America’s outstretched hand doesn’t waver.

It’s time for you to knock loose your first impression. You give him a respectful nod and grasp his hand firmly. The grip slips as you shake, but you don’t offer any apology, and Rogers doesn’t seem to need one, not even when there’s a squishing sound as you both disengage. You take pity on the man and snag him a blue towel from your workbench.

“So, what do you need that Stark couldn’t Lord it down here and ask for himself?”

The towel is doing nothing. “We’ve got a mission coming up that will involve some repair work mid-way. Refugee camp in the middle of a regional conflict, with aggressors who like to send self-destructive drones to ruin our day. Army thinks it’s cheaper if it’s us, and not them.” He gestures towards your large tool bag. “We’d like to get in, get fixed back up, and get out in a hurry, and Stark says you’re the…” he pauses.

“Say it.”

“‘Gremlin’ for the job,” he says, apologetically offering back the newly-soiled towel with his still-soiled hand.

“Sounds about right. Have his Jeeves give me the details, yeah?” You start whistling as you scooch back down to finish up the job you’d been working on when Rogers had come in. It takes a not-inconsiderable amount of time for him to walk back out, and you count that as a win.

They were… not kidding about the danger of the mission.

The trip out had been unpleasant as hell, gaining you some unwanted on-the-job experience with what it’s like being motion-sick under fire. As expected, the vehicle is hit by two diligent little destructo-bots, but you take care of the first one handily. Getting the second off and its damage mitigated is made more difficult by the urgency in the comms.

The team is on the way with the refugees in tow, and they want to take off as soon as they get back. Doing that with unknown damage is a terrible idea.

“All right, you heat-seeking little bot-barnacle, you ARE coming off, even if I have to pry off a panel of the ship to do it!” you snap, five minutes later. You're bluffing, since can’t even tell if the damned thing’s done any damage or if the sum total of its effect is ‘skewering the hull and sitting there smug as hell about it.’ The team is getting closer and closer, and the pounding of your heart is so loud you can hear it like a drumbeat in your ears.

They turn out to be footfalls, not your heartbeat.

A metal hand appears out of utterly nowhere and grabs the attack drone, ripping it out of the hull and throwing it with enough force to send it a half mile away. You’re left with your mouth hanging open as the owner of the hand (the arm. It’s an arm, and it’s the most gorgeous piece of machinery you’ve ever, ever seen) turns to face you. He’s wearing tactical gear and a sour expression, and every one of your blood vessels have converted themselves to gasoline at the very sight of him.

“That’s quite an arm you’ve got, soldier,” you quip.

His face twists into fierce fury as he points to the ramp leading into the Quinjet. “Sit down and shut up if you want to stay alive.”

For once in your life, you do what you’re told without complaint or combativeness. The phrase ‘internal combustion’ has never been so apt. The textbooks all say that finding your soulmate feels like figuring out your place in the world, something you’ve always thought was utter bullshit, but--

…but your soulmate has a mechanical arm.

The rest of the team shows up mere seconds later, and from there you’re caught up in the whirlwind of weight balancing, choosing what to ditch to fit every last person in the vehicle. For a few crazy minutes, it seems your grouchy soulmate might be left behind to fend for himself (you have no idea who he is, but you’re completely certain this man could wipe out the entire platoon that Rogers says is heading their way), but you and Stark figure out an overspeed hack that can work for just long enough to get somewhere safe.

You’re too busy keeping your ride in the air to think about anything else, and once you’re all back on solid ground, disembarking is a madhouse. You and Stark are the last two off the thing. He flips up his helmet and gives you one of his thousand-watt smiles.

“Great job today. Forgot to tell you Barnes was with us for this one.”

“Barnes?” you ask, distractedly running your calloused fingers over the rift where the perfect man had pulled out the drone. It looks like a patch might work, rather than having to get a piece machined. 

“James 'Bucky' Barnes. The Vodka Popsicle?” Stark comes over and makes a show of frowning at the way you’re just shrugging. “See, if you were fun, you’d be pretending you have no idea so you can milk me of all the good nicknames.”

The soulmate thing is burning a fuse in the back of your mind, and you don’t have enough left in your tank to banter. “I really don’t know, Motor Mouth. I just kept my head down and did my job.”

You smack the hull of the Quinjet and start toward the elevator bank, secretly pleased with your own stupid nickname. ‘Barnes’ sounds familiar, but you can’t place the name.

“Come on, CS, you had to have seen his arm!”

This stops you in your tracks so quickly you can almost hear the record scratch sound. Right at that moment, you realize where you heard the name Bucky Barnes: in your high school history class! This has to be fake, some stupid Superhero hazing or something.

You spin on your heel, about to accuse Stark of only remembering the name because he had a hot teacher that day, but at the very last minute you remember his father was a WWII war hero. Fine, you can go with 'snark overload' instead. “Friend of your dad’s, then? What happened? Time machine?”

“Fascist Russian trauma, actually,” he says, herding you into the elevator. “JARVIS, can you take over? I need to fly home to the Missus.”

“Wait, Stark--” He’s in the air before you can finish objecting.

One enlightening elevator ride later, you make your way to your workshop in a trance. This whole thing is a coincidence. It has to be. The man has gone through hell, vanquished hell, joined its army only to claw his way out... and his reward is what?

You?

“Took you long enough,” a voice says from the darkest corner of the space. You don’t have to guess who it is. There’s only one person it could be.

“That’s funny as hell in context, you know that?” Shit. Even to your own ears, you sound defensive. “Look,” you rush to add. “I picked this job to keep my Words to myself as much as possible, and I’ll keep doing that. I don’t want anything from you.”

You’re lying. You want a look at his arm like you want coffee in the morning, like you want air in your lungs after a brutal run. If he were anyone else you’d be planning a charm offensive, and you’re not what most people would describe as charming.

“One problem,” Barnes says, stepping out of the shadows with his flesh hand outstretched toward you. It’s so cinematic you forget he’s basically danger incarnate-- and then he makes contact.

Pleasure sizzles up from his grip on your wrist, skin to skin, soul to soul. It’s mind-numbing in the same way as the aftermath of an orgasm, so similar that you stumble a little bit when he lets go only seconds later. You’ve only read about Sensitivity or seen it depicted in movies, and neither did the full glory of it justice.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper. 

He doesn’t look affected at all. “Yeah. One hell of a weakness.” 

You go from shaken to pissed faster than the Quinjet hits cruise speed. “Get the fuck out, then! My workshop is invite only.”

“Is that right?” Barnes asks, insultingly unphased. Your arms are crossed, and he just glares right into your eyes and taps one perfectly articulated metal finger on the newly silver Words on your hand. “Stark’s AI updated our medical files. If you’re unconscious, this gets me into your hospital room. That’s invitation enough.”

Fucking great. “Well, either knock me out or fuck off, then, Barnes. I have work left to do.” Your gut is twisted metal right now, jagged and raw from disappointment and desperation. This man is a legend, a warrior with a marvel of machinery for an arm and a past that would make the devil blush. He doesn't want you, and he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t. With misery staining your heart black as old oil, you stalk over to the nearest workbench before he can tell how upset you are. 

“It’s not personal,” he says flatly.

Soulmate words are as personal as it gets, which means he’s saying it to fire you up. You won’t rise to the bait. Most people are uncomfortable with silence, but you use it as a weapon. The minutes tick by as you clean off the work table, with no other sound than the clink of metal on metal and the slide of heavy tools on the hard, solid surface. 

Soon, all that’s left is a bucket half full of sand. At least this is simple and easy to understand; a cheap, abundant material used for friction, stability, and sometimes even a mold to pour hot metal into. As you burn away your fury with your impossible soulmate staring silent holes into your back, you wonder whether you’re half as valuable to him as this.

“Look. I don’t want or need--”

You shove the bucket off the side of the work table and spin around, your next words practically exploding out of your chest. “You think I don’t know that? I get it. I’m nobody. Neither of us want--” He’s advancing on you and you hop up onto the surface of the workbench, primed to kick, scratch, and scream if he tries to melt your brain again with your goddamned soulmate connection. 

“Jesus. Just-- stay inside, will you?”

With those cryptic words, Bucky Barnes walks out.

You’re speechless, and the worst part is how much your body is craving the glorious, drugging feeling of his touch on your skin.

JARVIS calls out your name just as you force yourself to assess the sand mess you’ve tantrumed everywhere. Your ‘what?’ is as short and annoyed as you can make it.

I thought you ought to know that Sergeant Barnes spent his time after leaving the Quinjet checking on your safety. He requested I adjust the camera angle to more fully catch the doorway to your room, requested the visitor logs--

“Which you denied, yes? Yes?” you snap, gripping the broom handle like it’s your soulmate’s neck.

Of course. Despite his assertion, mutual consent is required for such things, barring a formal, legal relationship.

“For the record, it’s bullshit that it took until 1973 for that.”

I heartily agree. As I was saying, Sgt. Barnes took it upon himself to--

“Blah blah safety, you win the award for meddling, JARVIS, but what I really need from you is a magical ability to clean up this mess.”

Deepest apologies, but there is a purpose to this endeavor. The door to your suite did not meet Sgt. Barnes expectations, regarding your safety on-site.

“What the hell are you-- Wait.” You drop the broom and head out, speaking angrily up at the ceiling as you stalk down the hallway. “Tell me there’s still a door there, JARVIS.”

I’m afraid I cannot.

“Yeah, you should be afraid!” you hiss. “Tell me where he is or I’ll take a blowtorch to the wiring in the server room.”

Stark’s damned AI doesn’t even have the grace to sound concerned. 

I see why some say you have a fiery temper. Sgt. Barnes is in one of the basement sparring rooms. Shall I arrange for an elevator?

“I’ll walk, thanks.”

The bank of exercise rooms is open to everyone on campus, and the doors only close when there’s someone in there. That makes it easy to figure out where to knock.

The door swings open, and your mouth runs dry.

Barnes is sweaty, wearing only a black tank and tight pants, and the harsh hallway light glistens on the metal of his arm. You’re completely certain that touching it will feel just as good as the skin-to-skin contact earlier. You drift forward, captivated, and the door shuts behind you. The clicking sound brings you back to furious reality.

Through gritted teeth, you say, “You. Owe. Me. A. Door.”

He scoffs silently, looking you up and down as if gauging how little effort he’d have to expend against you in a fight. “Stark owes you a door. I just proved that.”

“What the fuck gives you the right--”

Barnes interrupts not with words, but with quick, jerky movements at his waist, unbuckling, unzipping, and shoving. He slaps the flat of his palm against the Words on his bare thigh and says, “This. Every single woman I came in contact with was in danger. You’re not secure here.” He strips the pants off completely and throws them into the corner of the room before advancing on you, somehow just as menacing in briefs and a tank. “Not until we get this out of our systems.”

He’s lithe as a cat, and you’re only able to stumble back a few inches and scrunch your eyes shut before he encircles your wrist with one hand. 

The cool metal is soothing despite being inexorable. You suck in a surprised breath and open your eyes just in time to watch the clever shit that is your soulmate dip his head to kiss you.

The pleasure is sudden and devastating. Your heart seizes up, stutters, and starts sending napalm through your veins as he walks you back against the wall and presses the full length of his body against yours. If each touch is a contact high, these kisses are full-throttle erotic warfare, with your brain offline and your hindbrain keening. You 'fight back' with everything you have, fingernails scratching at the back of his neck, teeth grazing his inner lip, all with your Words pulsing encouragement on the back of your hand.

If you’re not careful, this soulmate bond will acid-etch the narcotic joy of this moment right into your heart.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Barnes lets out a deep groan and pulls back to look you directly in the eyes. “This is a strategy, not a relationship.”

You’re touch-drunk, but you’re not in love. “Look, Deathsquad, I only want you for your arm.”

Barnes’ smile is like the sun coming up, damn him. “Fuck me enough to get past Sensitivity and I’ll let you have a whole afternoon with it.” As if to emphasize how much you’d both enjoy that plan, he slides his flesh hand past your waistband and grabs your ass, holding you steady for the twist of his hips.

Your smarts are offline, your lungs are at half capacity, your cunt is criminally empty, and you fully understand how people end up falling for stranger soulmates, if this is what Sensitivity does to a person. 

“Fine,” you snap, hoping to hell you sound less needy than you feel.

The two of you glare at each other for a charged second, and then there’s a race to strip the rest of your clothes off. Not even sixty whole seconds later you’re kneeling on a thick floor mat, more nervous and excited than you’ve ever been in your life, damn him. Barnes comes up behind to set a warm, drugging hand on your hip, and then it’s bliss, sexual rapture from the very first thrust.

“Fuck, that’s insane,” he rasps into your ear, his right hand coming down hard on the mat beside you as he curls over and into you. “Perfect,” Barnes breathes, the word almost a whine, like he’d tried to hold it back and couldn’t. 

You’re almost at white-out, already seconds away from the kind of orgasm that rearranges a girl’s blood chemistry, but you can’t let this one go. Arching your back and leaning to the side, you rock your hips in a cadence that unbalances the two of you just enough to force him to brace with his left, instead. You’re moaning insult-adjacent nonsense syllables now, but you gather enough willpower to clutch his metal hand with your marked one.

“Now it’s perfect,” you grit out.

Barnes’ sexy chuckle in your ear sends you into a black-out orgasm for the ages.

You wake up alone, which feels like a statement, but you notice when you roll over that you’re not sticky. The clothes you’d torn off and thrown in wild abandon are folded next to you, too. You scramble to put them on, stepping curiously into the shared adjoining bathroom to find a wet washcloth draped over the towel rack and a sticky note marked with a large B on the mirror.

“Don’t get sentimental on me, asshole,” you mutter as you snatch it off.

Crankshaft:  Don’t get sentimental on me.  Wednesday at 4? B

The words are printed, even the B, meaning that while you laid there naked and insensate, he’d gone and printed something out instead of just waking you up. On top of that outrage, someone’s told him your nickname, which for some stupid reason feels more intimate than anything that just happened. It’s something that’s just yours, not influenced by stupid-ass destiny genetics, and if he tries to use it verbally, you’ll… you’ll… You sigh. There’s not one thing you can do to influence this guy, except possibly make him angry that you exist at all.

One big Sensitivity-struck security risk, that’s what you are.

You’re about to crumple up the note when you see it’s got something else hand drawn on the back, a sequence of numbers and letters in a jagged sort of rectangle. The shape looks familiar, but you’re sated and stupid after however long without caffeine. You gather up your things and make the walk of shame back to your apartment, realizing when you’re almost there that the fucking door is probably still missing.

It’s not. There’s already a brand-new door there, and on it is another sticky note. This one’s just the hand drawn shape and accompanying symbols. You snatch it up and go inside, vindictively locking the door with both locks until you remember Barnes’ whole thing about safety.

With a sour feeling in your stomach from doing exactly what he’d want you to, you lay both notes down to examine the shapes, finally sketching them out on a third piece of paper.

The numbers and letters work out to be a room and floor number, probably for his rooms here at the compound

Combined, the shapes look just like the plating for his metal arm

You refuse to be taken in by this, even if it is right up your alley.

“JARVIS?”

At your service, Miss.

“Will you locate a small, neutral space for a… meeting between myself and Sgt. Barnes tomorrow at four, and let both of us know the location once you’re finished?” There’s no way in hell you’re doing anything that even hints at girlfriend behavior with this guy, so no bedrooms. What’s between you is literally just biology, nothing more.

If you insist.

“I do. And don’t use my nickname with him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

The singing in your veins makes a good opposing argument, but that’s just biology again, and you won’t be swayed by it. The only thing you’ll be swayed by is his marvel of arm engineering. Everything else is just window dressing to help get you through the absurd pleasure-bond shit that comes with soulmate biology.

You skip dinner and go to bed early, dreaming all night of the purr of Barnes’ muscles over and against you, the gravel-drag of his stubble on your skin, and the hum of an engine starting to rev.

to be continued...

[ir0npvrker]

bucky: stop correcting me

sam: stop being wrong

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

Pretty As A Picture Masterlist

Marvel

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Theme: Soulmates - Feeling the connection as soon as you see each other.

Summary: When Bucky fell from the train, their soulmate was told he was gone. When Steve Rogers disappeared into the ice, their soulmate was again told one her soulmates were gone. But she didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. Committed to a mental health institute, she dies of a broken heart. That's at least what the hidden S.H.I.E.LD files say, but if that's the case than why is there a photo of her. A photo that shows her side by side two redhaired Avengers.

Warnings will be per chapter.

For this fic reader will be British, but let your imagination replace if needed.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Enjoy this fic? Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

Comment on send me a message to go on the Taglist.

[lives-in-midgard]

My Soulmate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: After years of not knowing your soulmate you finally find him.

Word Count: 1.232

A/N: Hey everyone! This has been in my drafts for a while now and this is my first time writing for a soulmate AU, so I hope you like it!

Masterlist

In the world you live, people believe in soulmates, not only do they believe in soulmates. They are real! Because when you are in the same room as your soulmate you get a tattoo with his or her initials on your wrist. Some people get them when they are 5 years, some when they are 13 years, some with 18 and then there is you who still hasn’t gotten yours. Every day you see people with their soulmate being happy and your friends ask you so often if you have one but you always have to shake your head and say no. After so many years of hoping that you’ll find yours, you started to think that maybe you don’t have one. Or maybe your soulmate lives in another country or died. Or maybe your soulmate wouldn’t like you? Everything is possible you thought. So many different scenarios were going through your head at some days. But what you didn’t know was that you’ll meet your soulmate very soon.

It started as a normal day. Before work you drove to your favorite coffee shop to pick up a coffee to go and drive to work. You walked in and ordered your coffee.

“Like always?” The friendly worker asked, and you nodded. While you waited for your coffee, you looked around and saw a few familiar faces but also two guys with caps and glasses on you haven’t seen before. You didn’t know why but they looked like they didn’t want to get recognized. You took a closer look at the blonde one and he kinda looked familiar, but you didn’t know why. Then you could see how the guy with the blonde hair showed the other one with brown hair something on his phone. Then you heard him laughing and wow he had a beautiful smile you thought.

“Your coffee is ready y/n.” You turned around and looked away from these two handsome men.

“Thank you.” You said with a smile and turned around. When you walked out you walked past the men, and the brown haired one smiled at you. You smiled back and said “Hi” to him. Then you walked out to your car. In your car you took a sip from your coffee and then started to drive away. While driving you somehow looked at your wrist and saw three initials on it.

“Oh my god.” You said to yourself and looked back at the street again. Then you looked for a parking lot and saw one near you. After you parked the car, you took a closer look of your tattoo.

J.B.B.

Who could that be? How long do you have it? It must have happened when you were in the coffee shop, right? But there were only people who were there often and who you knew. Wait! You took a deep breath. There were two guys that you saw for the first time. It had to be one of those guys! But who? And what is his name?

You couldn’t believe that you just really found your soulmate! But how can you see him again? Will you even ever see him again?

Your mind started to go crazy with so many questions going through your head. When you suddenly realized why you where there. You were about to drive to work. You looked at your clock and saw that you only have a few minutes left. You looked at the tattoo for the last time. And when you ran your finger over the initials a smile escaped you.

“J.B.B.” You whispered to yourself and smiled.

Your best friend from work immediately knew that something happened when she saw your smile. You showed her your wrist and told her that you think that it must be one of those guys you saw. She said that she will try to help you find him, but you only knew how he looked like and his initials. It’s nearly impossible to find him. But your friend assured you that you will find him.

The same time you found your tattoo was also the same time Bucky discovered his. He couldn’t believe what he saw. He thought he didn’t have one, especially after Hydra. Or that you lived back in the 40s and he couldn’t meet you because of what had happened. Bucky showed it to Steve, and he got so excited for his best friend because he knew how Bucky was feeling about it. For Bucky it was even harder to guess who you could be because he never went to that coffee shop before, and it could be anyone there. But somehow Bucky always had to think of you. He only saw you for a few seconds, but he remembered you with your beautiful smile and the shy little “hi” you said to him. Bucky went back to that coffee shop almost every day in the hope to find you there. You two always missed each other sometimes only for a few minutes. But Bucky didn’t give up.

Days and even weeks passed, and you didn’t see your soulmate again. But you didn’t lose hope that you will find him again. You walked into the coffee shop like almost every day and ordered your coffee. Then you went back to your car, you wanted to drive home after that hard day at work. You were about to open the car door when suddenly someone behind you shouted.

“Hey, I think you dropped something.” You heard and turned around. You couldn’t believe who you saw, it was the brown haired one, you saw weeks ago. The one who could be your soulmate. He was holding your bracelet in his hand.

“Oh, yes that’s mine. Thank you so much.” You said while he walked over to you.

“No problem.” He said and smiled at you.

“Oh, hey it’s you.” Bucky said with excitement when he got near you.

“You remember me?”

“Of course, I do. How could I forget that beautiful smile.” Bucky said and made you blush.

“Oh, your bracelet.” Bucky held out your bracelet.

“Would you put it on me, please.”

“Sure.” When Bucky put it on your wrist you noticed that his left arm was of a black metal. You didn’t have much time to think about that because then he started to introduce himself.

“I’m Bucky Barnes.” Wait? Bucky Barnes? You must have heard of him before.

“Do…you maybe have a second name too?” You nervously asked and he looked kinda confused why you wanted to know that.

“I have, but why-” Bucky got nervous, so you decided to tell him why.

“Because my name is Y/n l/n.” You said and then showed Bucky the tattoo on your wrist. He looked at the tattoo and then back to you. Then Bucky turned his right arm to you, and you saw your name on it.

“You are …. We are.” Bucky started to say.

“Soulmates.” You both said at the same time and chuckled. Then Bucky moved closer to you and tucked a hair behind your ear.

“I know this might be too soon, but you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.” Bucky said and looked into your eyes to see if you want that kiss too. You smiled at him and made the last step that was between the two of you.

[thezombieprostitute]

Alpine

A/N: written for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date writing challenge. The prompts are - Dialogue: “Are you holding back? Don’t.” - Trope: Soulmate. Reader has no descriptors or gender indicators.

Word Count: ~2.7k

Warnings: Implied animal abuse/neglect and kidnapping of a pet.

Not everyone gets a soulmate. It’s generally accepted that your odds of having a soulmate and meeting them aren’t great. For it to happen, an animal has to welcome themselves into your life. Take care of that animal and they will lead you, at some point, to your soulmate. Neglect that animal and it will leave you and you’ll never meet your soulmate. 

Well, that’s how it was supposed to happen. Naturally people tried to find ways to force an animal into their lives. Or force them to stay in their lives despite neglectful or abusive care. Other times humans would try to get rid of any distractions their animal had, hoping to force them to focus on finding them their soulmate. 

Which explains the box that Bucky found in the dumpster. If it weren’t for his super-soldier hearing he likely wouldn’t have heard the tiny, weak mewls. He had no interest in a soulmate but he wasn’t about to live down to his reputation as a monster by not helping. He found a tiny, white kitten. His heart broke for the poor thing, eyes not even open and already experiencing the worst. He held the dirty, white, mewling bean to his chest, under his jacket, trying to get it warm, as he searched for an emergency vet.

The kitten stopped shaking while he was on the way to the vet but the mewling continued. He was guessing it was hungry, especially with how its paws were so gently kneading his skin. He sped into the vet’s office, praying they’d have something. 

The veterinarian took excellent care of the little bean. She talked to Bucky while she was cleaning, examining and then feeding the kitten. “She’s very lucky you found her, Mr. Barnes. She definitely wouldn’t have lasted much longer.” When the kitten had fallen asleep the veterinarian asked, “are you planning on keeping her? We have some possible homes for her but what few shelters have space may not have the fosters needed to keep her fed and cared for.”

Bucky’s heart nearly broke at the thought of this tiny, helpless kitten getting lost in a system that didn’t care about her. “I’ll take her,” he whispered.

“And what would you like to name her?”

“Alpine. Her name is Alpine.”

The veterinarian smiled and nodded before talking him through all of the care and food guidelines and answering his questions.

Bucky managed to get the time off he needed. His therapist enthusiastically signed off on his taking care of Alpine. She said it can be very good therapy to be a caretaker. She also made mention of soulmate potential but Bucky brushed that off. He just wanted this kitten to survive and thrive, not bring new people into his life. 

Besides, how could he love anyone else when this kitten had stolen his heart? Everything she did, from wiggling her ears whenever she ate, to every developmental goal she reached, endeared him more and more. The first time she opened her eyes Bucky was overjoyed and made sure to smile so it would be the first image of him she saw. He wasn’t sure that’s how it worked, but he didn’t want to take the risk.

By the time Alpine was 6 weeks old and crawling around on her own Bucky was happily admitting to being a full-fledged cat dad. He bought her all of the toys and cat trees she could ever need. The first time she was able to sneak attack him (he heard her preparing to pounce and kept still for her) he gave her a bunch of treats, calling her a “powerful lioness”. 

Mindful of the fact that he would eventually have to go back to work he made sure to help Alpine be okay with him being out. If she developed separation anxiety he’d never be able to leave her. He started out simple, leaving her in the apartment while he quickly went to the corner store. Her little mewls at the closed door broke his heart so he’d always pick her up a special treat to give her on his return. He even paid a little extra on his rent so he could install a small catio for her in one of the apartment windows. Stark gave him a small holograph to make it look like an A/C unit so no one would try to steal Alpine.

After his first away mission he decided to celebrate with Alpine, bringing her the super expensive cat food she adored and getting himself some pricey Chinese takeout from C. W.'s. He was surprised at how she ignored her food and begged for his. He’d ordered out plenty of times and she never showed an interest but she definitely wanted the chicken from his lo-mien. He gave her a few pieces and hoped he wasn’t setting a precedent.

It’d been over a year since he rescued Alpine and they had settled into a nice, well, maybe not “routine” but they definitely had their version of “normal”. It was nice and comfortable for Bucky and he loved every minute of it. What few people he let into his life commented on how much better he seemed to be. Less stressed, less mopey, quicker to smile; he even laughed at one of Sam’s jokes before trying to cover it with a cough. 

Someone brought up the idea of a cat harness so he could take Alpine out for walks, maybe meet his soulmate, but Bucky shut that idea down right away. His life was good. It was comfortable. Why ruin that by potentially bringing in someone new? Besides, Alpine was perfectly content to be an indoor cat. 

Or so he thought. He was being forced to take some time off, something about “preventing burnout” and he figured he could just take the opportunity to play with Alpine. She was getting really good at responding to some commands and he was hoping to get her some real enrichment by teaching her some cat acrobatics he’d seen online. 

But as soon as he walked in the door, Alpine tried to run out through his legs. If it weren’t for his superhuman reflexes she’d have gotten away. 

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” He held Alpine by the nape of her neck as he closed the door. “You never go outside. At least you’ve never shown an interest before.”

He set her down and she immediately ran to her catio and started scratching at the windows. Bucky walked over to the window and looked out but couldn’t see anything that would get her interest. No birds, no pets in windows across the way, nothing.

“Alpine, are you okay? You’re going crazy over nothing.” Alpine eventually stopped and Bucky swears he heard her let out a small sigh. He tried to get her to play but she seemed disinterested in everything, even treats. “Well, this is a rough start to a vacation. Maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow, pretty girl.”

The next day did start out more like normal. Alpine was getting better at sneak attacks, especially around feeding time. Bucky was woken up by Alpine batting his face and running away several times as he grumbled, “I made a mistake when I started feeding you breakfast at 6 AM.”

After getting Alpine her food he saw to his own breakfast. He figured he’d start his vacation with a big breakfast, complete with some pancakes. Alpine climbed up to sit on his shoulder as he cooked, occasionally sitting on top of his head to watch him work. It was her favorite spot whenever he was home. Even when he wasn’t walking around, she enjoyed cuddling up close.

Around the time he finished breakfast he felt Alpine perk up and look around before running to her catio. She started scratching at the enclosure again, as if she were trying to break out. Bucky got up to look out the window and, again, saw nothing that might spark her interest. He shrugged his shoulders and started cleaning up his breakfast dishes when it hit him. 

“Alpine,” he asked, “is there someone out there that you’re trying to get to?” She stopped her clawing and looked at him with an earnestness usually reserved for hunting practice. “You…you want to go out to see someone?” She ran to the apartment door and started scratching at it while looking back at him with that same earnestness.

“No,” Bucky whispered. Alpine started meowing as she scratched at the door. “No,” Bucky repeated, more forcefully. “We’re not doing that. You’re not…you’re staying here where it’s safe. We’ve got a good thing, dammit.” Alpine didn’t relent. “Are you holding back? Don’t. Wear yourself out because you will not out-stubborn me on this!” Alpine responded with an indignant meow but Bucky went back to cleaning. 

The rest of the day proceeded without incident until the evening, around the time he’d come home last night, when Alpine again ran to the catio. Bucky refrained from looking out the window. Whoever it was that was getting Alpine all huffy was someone he wanted nothing to do with. No, his cat was not going to lead him to some promised soulmate. No, he was never going to meet a soulmate. He didn’t, couldn’t have one. He was keeping Alpine locked up for her own safety. Someone not as understanding of the lack of soulmates would definitely kidnap Alpine if she went out. He couldn’t let her be taken away. 

She ran to the door and kept meowing at him and giving him angry looks he’d never seen before. He genuinely felt bad but he had to look out for her. There were too many dangers and she barely survived the last time she was outside. True she was technically blind at the time, but it was still far too dangerous for his fluffy kitten. After a bit she finally gave up and seemed so despondent it broke his heart. 

“Tell you what,” he pleaded. “I’ll go get you some of that special cat food you love. Maybe even stop by C. W.’s and get that chicken lo-mien you won’t stop begging me for. Will that make it up to you?” Alpine huffed and sat in her tree, purposefully not looking at him. He quickly went out, making sure she didn’t follow him and brought back the promised food. She was feeling better enough to eat all the chicken from his meal and he hoped that meant she forgave him.

Sadly, the rest of his time off was spent in similar fashion. She was fine for all but two times during the day. It broke his heart every time but he didn’t relent. He was scared of her getting outside for so many reasons. He couldn’t risk letting her out. 

He was almost relieved when he was able to get back to work. He made sure to leave her extra food and it was only a one-day mission so he’d be back soon. Though he’d check the time to make sure he arrived after her evening begging to be let out. Maybe, just maybe, he’d look into a cat harness. Let her outside in small doses so she could see the dangers of going out. 

At least that was the plan. He got a phone call soon after arriving at the tower, the number indicating it was his building’s super.

“Barnes,” he greeted.

“Mr. Barnes, this is Mack, your building’s super.”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“So, the apartment above yours was having some flooding problems and I needed to check if your apartment was getting any of the water. As soon as I opened the door your cat ran out. I tried to catch her, but she was way too fast for me.”

Bucky pulled the phone away and started cussing up a storm before telling Mack, “do what you need, I’m gonna come back and try to find her.” He hung up and told his team what happened. They asked if he wanted help finding her but he was worried they’d end up scaring her. He promised to ask for help if he couldn’t find her.

He started tracking just outside his apartment. He amped up his super-soldier senses as much as he could, trying to find any trace of her. A few hairs here and there led him to the elevator. Is Alpine that smart, he thought to himself. He took the elevator to the first floor and scoured for traces of her. 

He was so lost in focus he almost missed his phone ringing. It was an unknown number so he was tempted to let it go to voicemail but caught himself. It could be someone found Alpine. 

He answered the phone, “hello?”

“Um…hi,” you faltered. “Um, I’m so sorry to bother you but I found a cat with this number on their collar.”

“Alpine!”

“Yeah, that’s the name on the collar,” you affirm. “I hope you don’t mind, but she was begging for some of my chicken lo-mien and I did give her a few pieces because I didn’t know when she’d last eaten.”

“Are you at C.W.’s?”

“Yeah,” you hesitate. “How, um, how did you know?”

“The only time she ever begs for my food is when I order the chicken lo-mien from C.W.’s,” he assures. You cheerfully laugh at the information and for a second Bucky gets lost in how lovely your laugh sounds.

“Well, are you able to come and get her? I’ll make sure she stays here.”

“Thank you, so much! I’ll be right there!”

He nearly ran all the way to C.W.’s and was relieved to see Alpine with a patron at an outside table. He saw Alpine cuddled up against you, as you cooed and babied her, giving her some more of your chicken. She looked so comfortable with you and even nuzzled her head against yours.

“Alpine,” he exclaims as he gets nearer. You and Alpine both look his way and he almost freezes at your similar, wide-eyed expressions. “Alpine,” he repeats as he gets to your table. You hand Alpine over and he immediately grips her in a gentle but firm hug. He looks down at her, “don’t you ever do that again! You scared me! What were you thinking?” Alpine gives him those eyes she knows he can’t resist and gently licks his face. 

You coo at the image of this handsome, 6 foot plus tall, bulky, long-haired man holding a small cat. You’re tempted to take a picture but figure that would be rude. Instead you comment, “you two are so cute together!”

“Thank…thank you,” Bucky blushes. “Is there anything I can do to thank you?” 

“Nah,” you reply. “She was very good company.” There’s a beat of silence between you, like he wants to say something, but can’t. “I’ll just be on my way. It was very nice to meet you, Alpine.”

You get up to leave but Alpine immediately starts meowing at you. You and Bucky look at each other. You’re each aware of the soulmate implication in Alpine’s actions. He looks scared to say something but also scared to do nothing. You smile kindly at him, “um, look, um. I know this shows we’re…and if you’re not interested I’ll understand…but, you have my number, I have yours. If, and only if, you’re interested or want to even just start talking, you know how to reach me.” He nods and you turn to leave.

“Please,” he mumbled. “Please have lunch with me?”

“I have to get to work,” you smile. “But I’d love to meet you for a meal sometime. Alpine optional, but very much a bonus.” He smiles shyly back at you and nods. 

As you walk away he looks at Alpine, “okay, you were right.” Alpine meowed and nuzzled his cheek before he put her in his jacket and took her home. He texted you soon after to set up your first date.

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Hybrids Mafia Princess Pt1

Mafia!Bucky’s Daughter x Klaus M.

(This will be a several chapter story and for anyone who read the original Thought I posted on it, I’ve decided to change it up a bit. The event will be the first time Klaus and Y/n meet in Klaus’ Human form)

Warning: Mentions of Traumatic Birth Resulting in a Hysterectomy, Father Abandonment, Near Death Experience

“Tag-List”: @ranisingsnew @ronswhoree @susannahmikaelson @skulliecadaver-blog

Series Masterlist

Bucky had been an amazing father throughout Y/n’s entire childhood.

She loved her Daddy more than anyone in the world and was most assuredly a Daddy’s Girl!

James Barnes had married his girl a few months after finding out she was carrying his child and he never regretted it for a moment. Honestly, he had been trying to get her pregnant since they had met. Unfortunately there had been complications during the pregnancy and their child was born at only 28 weeks, resulting in an emergency hysterectomy and one perfect (albeit early) baby girl. Bucky had been there every single day, even after his wife had been released from the hospital, visiting his Babygirl for hours every day, (regardless of any work he needed to get done) until the Doctors decided she was well enough to go home. Bucky knew, even though they could never have any more children, that Y/F/n was perfect and he would never need anything more.

He had put off his work for nearly an entire month while caring for her. His wife was healing from a traumatic birth and he refused to let anyone but the two of them hold his child. It wasn’t until some idiot made a threat against his family the he snapped back into his normal routine (after killing the idiot of course) and finally let Steve hold his daughter for the first time. Bucky knew that if anyone was going to protect his daughter with the same ferocity he would, that it would be Steve, she was his Godchild after all and he loved Bucky’s girl like his own niece.

The Mob Boss began spending shorter days working and more time with his wife and baby, wanting to be a better father than the one he had, and he was. He was the best father Y/n could have asked for…until she turned 12.

As she grew up her father spent less and less time with her and while she originally assumed it was him just being weird about her growing up, it wasn’t something he got over and it only got worse. He no longer took her to his events, no longer went on shopping trips with her or had their monthly “Daddy/Daughter Day” that had been a tradition since she was 4 years old. Not even his wife could convince him to get over whatever his problem was, knowing he didn’t know what to do with a teenage girl and that he was terrified of messing something up and hurting her and so he just pulled away completely.

Y/n missed her father more than anything and didn’t stop taking it personally until she was 16 years old and he missed her sweet 16 for work, something he had never done before. It was that day that she realized whatever his problem was, it was exactly that. His problem. She was done making excuses for him and that night she gave up on him as he had clearly done on her.

Y/n’s mother seemed to be the only one to realize that whether it took a day, a year or a decade, this would not end well for them in the end but once Bucky made his mind up there was no changing it. A trait, unfortunately, that he passed onto his daughter.

Y/n had opted not to go to college, spending her time writing books that one of her fathers publishing companies was happy to print and that (under an alias) sold very well. She knew that she wanted to leave, to get away from the big empty house where she felt unloved and unneeded, but where could she go that her father wouldn’t find her? Who could she trust that he couldn’t bribe? This was her life, whether she liked it or not, as even if her father ignored her, he would still never let her go. She knew that people would still see her as a target to get to him through, though she thought it pointless, and so he would never let her leave no matter how badly she wanted her own life.

Little did she know she was about to meet someone who would change the course of her life completely.

The true love she wrote about in her books, the fictional idea of soulmates and 2 people belonging together isn’t so fictional after all.

Klaus had spent the last thousand years with one goal in mind.

Breaking his curse.

And here he was, 1000 years after being cursed by his mother, finally free.

He had planned to change other wolves. Planned to start searching for them and building up his army so strong that no one would ever threaten him again, especially not Mikael, but that seemed to be the farthest thing from his mind right now.

He had broken the curse and daggered his brother, getting himself out of the town of horrible memories that was Mystic Falls. He was driving towards the Rocky Mountains where he knew several packs of werewolves resided but after putting up with the building pressure in his head for several hours that seemed to just get stronger and stronger he couldn’t ignore the wolf howling anymore.

He needed to run.

He was somewhere in New York, not far outside the city but far enough that the skyscrapers were gone and replaced with wonderful forests and landscapes. Parking his truck, he walked his way into the trees and laid his clothes on a log, pushing through his shift as quickly as he could and settling into his new body.

In this form he could still think clearly, but his wolf was much more at the forefront of his mind, controlling most of his actions and finally getting to enjoy himself after a millennium of being painfully repressed. And so he ran. He ran through the trees, watching other animals scatter away from his presence and it wasn’t long before he realized that his wolf was looking for something…sniffing for something. However just as he attempted to gain control and go back to the car he caught a wonderful scent. It was amazing, consisting of lavender and the smell of the sky after a heavy thunderstorm…it was the most perfect thing he had ever smelled and as his paws hit the ground hard he began to slow, rounding a line of trees and stopping short as his eyes took in the sight of a girl sat on an old dock.

Klaus could see the girls profile from where he now sat and she was gorgeous. Long, soft Y/H/c hair and big, round Y/E/c eyes that he wanted to be looking at him right now as well as a cute nose and full pink lips that his wolf seemed to only imagine wrapped around his-

His line of thought was cut off by a cracking sound from the old wood and he jumped to his feet just as the girl screamed, disappearing under the dark water. He took several steps forward, waiting to see her come back up but after 3 never ending seconds he was moving once again, faster than he ever had before. He couldn’t identify why he cared at all, only last night he was slaughtering everyone in his path after breaking his curse but now the mere thought of this girl being gone felt like someone drilling a hole into his heart.

As he got to the end of the long dock he leapt into the water, barely registering the freezing cold temperature as he swam down, seeing her flailing and instantly realizing she couldn’t swim. He grabbed the collar of her shirt with his teeth and dragged her up to the surface, pulling her up the muddy bank to the grass and watching closely as she choked up a lot of water, breathing heavily for several minutes on the ground before he nuzzled his nose against her cheek and she gasped, jumping back and nearly choking all over again.

Klaus once again felt like he wasn’t in control of his body which hated but as he laid down in front of her he whined softly, peeking up and watching as she hesitantly held out her hand and rested it on his wet head. He felt his heart stutter as she smiled down at him, continuing to scratch behind his ears with both hands now. ‘You saved my life…thank you. Good boy.’ She praised and while Klaus wanted to scoff, instead he felt his tail wagging behind him causing him to turn his head to see the offending limb and growl at it. ‘You’re a silly boy, aren’t you?’ She laughed, but as she did he noticed how her body had begun to shake from the cold. He stood, moving closer and leaning against her with his warm body making her smile. ‘Come on, let’s go get dried off, huh?’ She stood up carefully and moved to walk back passed the dock, turning to see he hadn’t budged. ‘Come on then! I’ll get you some food?’ With that promise he jumped up, trotting after her, shaking his body off as a wet dog normally would.

The walk wasn’t long before Klaus saw a cabin-like mansion in the woods making him wonder who this girl was that she lived like this, though it didn’t much matter since she was his now either way.

That thought gave him pause as it had come so casually, so normal for his brain to think but it felt right, not just to his wolf mind but to him all around, this girl is his now. He had saved her and she belongs to him.

‘Come in…shh, let’s go.’ She shushed him and he followed her through the sliding door, trying his best to keep his claws on the hard wood floor quiet as he walked through the kitchen with her and up what he assumed was a back staircase. He followed her down the upstairs hall and into a bedroom before she shut and locked the door. ‘Okay…you have to promise not to bite me, okay?’ He tilted his head before sitting down on the floor. ‘No! No, don’t sit, come on! Bathroom!’ She quickly led him to the bathroom and shut the door, turning on the shower. It was a large bathroom and he decided to do as she asked, walking into the glass shower with her as he truly recognized that he was covered in mud. The shower head turned on and rained down from the ceiling and he somehow felt even more like a wet dog as he sat down, grumbling before turning his head and feeling his eyes widen when he realized that his girl had completely stripped naked. She grabbed some shampoo and knelt down beside him, scrubbing the mud away as much as she could and he whined, nuzzling his face between her breasts as she did making her giggle and turn his face away. ‘Bad dog.’ She scolded with a smile on her face.

He allowed her to scrub him with the shampoo before sitting against the wall and watching as she washed her own hair, enjoying the sight he was being gifted from the Gods right now.

The shower was over quickly and she held Klaus down, rubbing him over with a towel before using another one for herself and pulling on some fuzzy pajamas.

‘Okay, are you hungry? You want some food buddy, huh?’ He barked and she laughed, opening the door and walking back down the stairs to the kitchen where a man stood eating ice cream. ‘Hey Steve.’ She greeted and as the man went to greet her back he jumped, staring at Klaus in shock.

‘Y/n! What the Fuck is that thing?!’ He snapped.

Huh…Y/n. At least now he knows his girls name.

‘It’s called a wolf Steve…are you losing it?’ She teased, turning on the stove and pouring some oil into a pan.

‘Where did you get it?!’ She shrugged.

‘I met him on my walk earlier, he’s a sweetheart. I just gave him a bath so he doesn’t stink anymore and now he’s gonna get a big, juicy steak! Isn’t he?! Yes he is! Cause he’s such a good boy!’ There was a part of Klaus that wanted to roll his eyes at being spoken to like a pet but it was a small part compared to the wolf part that quite likes her caring for him and being called a ‘Good Boy’ which was new for him…and the part of his wolf that also really wants that steak.

She held it down on all sides in the pan to color before allowing it to cook, turning to the fridge and grabbing milk, making herself a bowl of cereal, flipping the steak in between. ‘Kid, you can’t keep him, you know that. Right?’

She looked up at Steve with a glare. ‘Of course I can! He’s my friend, and it’s not like I can’t afford to buy him food. Look, it’s not your business Steve, okay? Just stay out of it.’ Y/n told him as she cleaned up and Steve glared half heartedly prompting Klaus to growl, both of them looking at him in shock. ‘No, none of that. It’s okay. The mean man isn’t going to take you away, I promise.’ Y/n knelt down and scratched behind his ears, prompting the groan that rose in his throat almost like a purring noise-one that Klaus would deny making until the day he dies.

With that Steve was walking out of the room and Y/n was cutting up the steak before turning and walking back up to her room with everything on a tray.

‘Here bud.’ She gestured beside the bed and he moved beside her, laying down and allowing her to put the bowl of steak in front of him as well as one full of bottled water. ‘Don’t worry about Steve, he just works for my Dad. They’ve been best friends since they were kids. My Dad will never say anything about you to me, he’ll make my Mom do it, he stopped talking to me a long time ago.’ She explained, turning on her TV and eating her cereal. He looked up at her and tilted his head making her smile. ‘Aww, you’re so cute! It’s like you’re actually listening to me…my Dad is the head of the Mafia here in New York, has been for years. We used to be close…really close…I was Daddy’s little girl, ya know?’ Klaus could see and hear the pain in her when she spoke about him. Her father had clearly really hurt her and he didn’t like that one little bit. ‘He just stopped loving me one day. Stopped taking me to all his events, stopped having our Daddy/Daughter Days…he just stopped talking to me all together…how is that fair?! I didn’t do anything but grow up! He had to know that was gonna happen, right?! What kind of fucking moron doesn’t? But he gets mad at me for what? Being a teenager? I didn’t stop talking to him, or start treating him badly-isn’t that my job? I’m supposed to be the mean one now! And yet my grown father is treating me like shit!?’

Klaus could see how angry she was getting and wanted to comfort his mate as the tears began falling. Clearly she had been keeping these feelings inside for a long time, probably having no one to talk to. If what she said about her father is true then anyone in this house would probably run and tell on her for anything she said about him, except maybe her mother.

He jumped up onto the bed and licked over her face, prompting her to giggle as he did, snuggling up against her and making her wrap her arms around him. ‘Thanks Bud…I have to call you something…what should your name be?’ She wondered and Klaus prayed silently for his mate not to name his wolf something stupid. ‘We could go with something classic for a black dog like…Shadow or Sirius?’ He grumbled, not wanting to be named after the dog from Harry Potter. ‘Too boring, something exotic then like…Obsidian or Pandora! No, wait, that’s a girls name…you are a boy, right?’ She asked, leaning over as if to check and he “yipped” snapping his teeth together. ‘Okay, you’re a boy. I’m teasing, I bathed you, remember?’ Yes, he remembers, he had to be very conscious of not having any issues there while she was rubbing her soft hands over every inch of his body. ‘I got it! We’ll call you Fenrir, after the wolf God, Lokis son. He’s a huge wolf, strong and brave. Misunderstood and abused…and really loyal. Like my good boy right here.’

Klaus had to admit, of all the stupid names she could have picked, he liked that one. It fit, that would have to be his wolfs name from now on and according to the howl in his head he didn’t mind.

Klaus snuggled up with Y/n as it got darker outside and she began to drift off, allowing her to hold onto him as she fell asleep. He stayed there for a while as she slept, watching the TV before the door opened and a women stepped in.

‘Y/n, you aren’t going to believe this. Steve is insisting you have a wolf in your-‘ she cut herself off as she made eye contact with Klaus and he lifted his head to look at her before grumbling and resting his head down across Y/n’s back. ‘This won’t end well…’

Hybrids Mafia Princess Moodboard

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[haveihitanerve]

can i just say- as much as I love the idea of Sam and Bucky actually dating- i much prefer them to just remain friends because platonic relationships are so much rarer in media and especially more recently as like everyone is gay- not that the representation isnt great i love seeing it so open and accepted(well its not hugely accepted but its progress) but I just really need more platonic love and just friendships especially good guy/guy friendships or girl/girl friendships and i would actually go feral if we were given a guy/girl friendship without any romantic attachments- steve and nat and tony and nat and clint and nat were good but people still ship them and there were like kiss/romantic moments with the first two ships in actual canon and i just... i want some platonic love please

anyway sam and bucky need to flirt more.

[ageofevermore]

STRAWBERRY PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICH

SUMMARY — natasha swings by to spend the day with you, bringing along somebody else to ease you into the pack dynamic

WARNINGS — omegaverse, soulmates, mentions of panic attacks and the aftermath of panic attacks, blood, kitchen knife, natasha showing off some dominance

heart masterlist, pervious chapter, next chapter

Despite being an early riser most days, you didn’t wake up until after noon, and even by then, you weren’t pleased with the intrusion of light in your apartment. You whined into your pillows, tossing in the too-warm bed before deciding that you had to get up and get ready. Your entire body ached as you changed from your soft silk pajama set into a light pastel mini dress. You pulled a matching cardigan out of your closet and threw it onto your unmade bed, ready and waiting for if today's events led you to venturing outside.

You had shuffled around your apartment for almost half an hour, brushing out your hair and doing your makeup, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet when one of your favorite songs played through the bluetooth speakers that you had synced around the small, but cozy space. You almost hadn’t heard the three knocks on your front door over the soft hum of the guitar instrumental and the pill bottle in your hand, but you did and your heart burst with uncontainable excitement.

You had been itching to see Natasha again since she’d left last night. So much so that even your dreams were plagued with fairytales of those soft green eyes and red hair. God, having your mates in your life was unlike anything you had imagined it to be. You were about to open the front door when your heart sank to her stomach. Natasha was great. She was darling, even. But she had brought somebody else with her this time, and even with the warning and explicit permission, your could feel the ache in your muscles increasing as your anxiety spiked.

So, you nervously peeked out the peephole, trying to calm your racing heart before it became a problem you couldn’t handle on your own. You could see Natasha, but whoever she brought with her was standing just out of sight. It took everything in you to actually answer the door and not retire to your bed for the rest of the day in a pile of embarrassment and dread.

“H-Hi.” You mumbled shyly, already fiddling with the hem of your short dress. You were glad that you’d opted for this one, because had it been any longer in length you would’ve been left to awkwardly twirl strands of brown hair around your fingers and cling to nothing but hope that your mates wouldn’t notice how they trembled.

Natasha smiled fondly at the girl in front of her. “Hi sweetheart, you look beautiful.” She noted, eyes trailing over the soft pink dress that you had picked out, though her amusement truly lied in the fact that on her Omega’s feet were mitch matched polkadot socks, one pink and the other blue.

You stumbled to find a response, ultimately coming up with a weak and bashful thank you. Natasha smiled fondly, though since last night she’d become aware of what the scent of anxiety was like on the Omega. She frowned, cursing herself for thinking this wouldn’t shake you. She was proud her girl had managed this far without stuttering over herself too bad though. It seemed like the girl had a habit of doing so.

“This is Bucky, sweetheart.” Natasha informed, though she knew you were well aware of who he was. Your eyes kept trailing over to him, but every time they got close enough to really look at his face your looked away sheepishly. Both Alpha’s were on fire, wanting nothing more then to mark the precious girl standing in the doorway.

“H-Hi. I’m Y/N.” You nervously greeted, holding your hand out for the assassin to shake. You were trembling, but the mantra of, ‘you’re okay’ repeating in your head was helping to keep most of the shivers at bay. Bucky smiled fondly at your, lifting the trembling hand to his lips, noting how cold the otherwise soft skin was.

Neither Alpha said anything about how long they’d been standing out in the hallway for, but you soon realized that for yourself and your face burnt with a gentle pink blush. Natasha giggled, stepping into the cozy space when you offered, immediately taking in everything she could.

The small apartment wasn’t overly clean and tidy. It was clean, cleaner then Tony’s room had ever been, but it was also lived in. You didn’t have dishes in the sink, but you did have cups and bowls on a drying mat not far away. There wasn’t any water around the dishware, telling Natasha that you had probably washed them and set them out to dry another day. The living room was all the same. A pair of slippers were thrown around, and there were two blankets on the couch, but other than that your jackets were either all put away somewhere else or hanging neatly on the back of chairs. It was a space that radiated your gentle energy, and selfishly Natasha wanted to absorb it and replicate it in the tower.

What Bucky noticed that Natasha had overlooked, was the open pill bottle on the countertop. His lips curled in concern, not wanting to overstep his boundaries and your comfort, but wanting to assure that his Omega was feeling above the weather. “You feelin’ alright, Doll?” He asked, and you traced his gaze back to the open tylenol bottle. You blushed red, shuffling towards the counter with a bowed head.

“Had a bad attack yesterday,” You summed up, looking unsure on whether you should continue before ultimately deciding that it wouldn’t hurt. “E-Everything aches afterwards and I fell asleep before I could take anything last night.” You spoke softly, and both Bucky and Natasha frowned thinking about how much pain you must’ve been in if you were digging through medicine cabinets looking for help.

Bucky nodded understandingly. Natasha had told them in detail about her day with you, and he might've been the one the most upset about your anxiety attack. The man was plagued with trauma from a handful of decades as a deadly weapon away from his mates. He understood your suffering probably the best besides Natasha.

“You have any water yet today, sweetheart?” Natasha asked casually, sitting down at your kitchen island when the younger girl led them over to the space. There was a clear Starbucks water cup sitting on the counter, looking like it hadn’t been touched, which was truly the only reason Natasha asked. She didn’t want to overwhelm the Omega with rules they hadn’t even discussed and agreed upon yet, though she would definitely make the three cups of water rule nonnegotiable.

You shook her head, blushing at Natasha’s question. You weren’t used to this kind of attention, or attention at all really. You didn’t know how you were supposed to react, or if you were allowed to react at all. “I only just woke up.”

Bucky laughed at that. He’d listened to Natasha drone on for hours the night before, rambling about all the ticks and traits she’d subtly picked up on, and she had confidently placed a bet with Steve that their early riser would remain bedridden until well into the afternoon. It looks like she’s just won herself ten dollars and a chance to top in their next session.

Natasha didn’t have to ask you to drink the water though, because before either assassin could say anything about the late wake up, you were putting her lips around the straw delicately and both of them wanted to groan aloud. Apparently Natasha wasn’t bluffing when she’d warned the men about your innocent and subconscious flirting.

“It’s pretty late to just be getting up, dorogoy.” Natasha hums, and she giggles at the way you let your shoulders relax at the pet name. Bucky doesn’t think you even noticed that your shoulders have been tense since you’d invited them inside, but nonetheless his heart warms seeing how you relax at Natasha’s gentle tone.

“That’s how it is after a bad attack. I don’t like getting up so late.” You spoke shyly, fiddling with the straw between your lips and avoiding both of your Alpha’s eyes. You still hadn’t taken the tylenol, and you weren’t sure why you suddenly felt apprehensive to in their presence. “Um, c-can I?” You motioned to the pills, trying hard to keep your cheeks from burning.

“Didn’t you just take them?” Natasha frowned. She could’ve sworn she heard the bottle rattling before you came to let them in. She’d been out of field practice for a while, but she didn’t think she’d started imagining the sound of half-full pill bottles.

You shook her head. “You knocked just as I got it open.” You mumbled, obviously embarrassed about your struggle with the child-locked bottle. Bucky couldn’t help his loud laugh that shook his chest, and both Natasha and you glared at him. Natasha because she wanted to laugh along with him, but knew it would set you on edge, and you because you hadn’t found your situation funny when your muscles already felt heavy. “‘s not funny, Buck!”

“I’m sorry, you’re right, Doll, it’s not funny at all.” He continued to taunt and you pouted deeper at him, huffing your chest outward in petty defiance. You had to admit the more he laughed the more you found amusement in the situation, but you were stubborn sometimes, usually in times when you’d gotten too little sleep and your body hurt.

“Stop teasing, the little one, Buck. If she pouts any harder I think she’ll pull the muscles in her lips.” Natasha teases, and you huff before breaking out into little giggles at their ridiculousness. God, you wished that you never had to leave this moment, although it would be better if your bones didn’t hurt and your head didn’t ache. “You can take them, baby. We don’t mind.” You nodded when you’d finally collected yourself, washing them down with a sip of the water. Your water that would become abandoned in only ten minutes when you moved on to fawning over a conversation with Bucky.

-

Natasha was watching her two mates fondly. Just after three, you had suggested that you start on lunch. Bucky had promptly refused, assuring that he and Natasha had already planned to take you out to a nice early dinner just before four. He’d quickly given into your plans when you’d persisted and batted your eyelashes at him, hardly even realizing that just your pout alone had changed his mind.

So, now the two were making sandwiches and salad. Bucky was dicing cucumbers, while you smothered two slices of white bread in peanut butter. Admittedly, you had never had a peanut butter and strawberry sandwich before right now, but the combination had sounded heavenly the minute that you’d heard it, and Bucky’s smile when you suggested it had made it worth it even if you would hate it.

“No, I still haven’t caught up on any films before the 2000s.” Bucky admitted, sliding the thinly diced cucumbers into the salad bowl. He’d made the mistake of getting you started on the topic of cinema and film, but seeing his girl come so far from the shy and stuttering Omega he’d been introduced to only a few hours ago made it worth it.

“B-But!” You looked up from the cutting board where you were slicing strawberries in half, completely flabbergasted by what you’d just heard. Bucky Barnes had been living as a free man for so many years, and he still hadn’t seen films like Tangled and The Hunger Games. A warning was on the tip of Natasha’s tongue to be careful, but it had happened just as the words surrounded the trio in the kitchen. Your lighthearted bantering had turned into pained whimpers and a sharp cry of pain when the cutting knife sliced your fingertip. “Fuck.” You sobbed, a good chunk of your finger ripped open by the sharp blade. Both Alpha’s hearts sunk at your pained whines, rushing towards you with a protective fire in their bellies.

“Let me see it, sweetheart.” Natasha cooed, but you shook your head, trembling as you cuddled the wound close to your chest, effectively smearing blood all over your pretty dress. That definitely wasn’t a good sign. “Y/N, let me see it, please.”

You shook her head again, tears falling down your cheeks in rapid successions. “It’s going to hurt!” You whimpered, pinching your eyes shut as you tried to ignore the dull throbbing beneath your skin. You hated cuts. You hated blood. It was right up there with your fear and hatred of needles. It seemed that as good as your recent days have been, they’ve had an obnoxious amount of bad and worse.

“It already hurts, doesn’t it, Doll?” Bucky asked calmly. He could see Natasha getting worked up, becoming emotional and fuzzy headed as she tried to refrain from fully letting her Alpha instincts guide her actions. It was still too early for that. You were still too timid and jumpy. They both needed more trust to be built before she could feel comfortable dominating her Omega in a domestic situation like this.

You whine, nodding your head with a trembling lower lip, looking empyrean and beautiful even in this moment. “D-don’t like blood.” You finally managed to tell them, which explained your pinched shut eyes and immediate avoidance to look at your still gushing and throbbing finger. It made both Avengers hearts sink.

“That’s alright. You don’t have to look, babydoll. Can I see it though? It’s bleeding pretty bad.” Bucky gently pulled your hand away from your chest, moving slowly to see if you resisted. He was more than happy when you didn’t, instead just bit your lower lip and squeezed your eyes shut tighter. “Good girl, Doll. You're being such a good girl for us.”

You melted at the praise, subconsciously melting into Natasha’s embrace as the red-head stood behind you, looking over your shoulder at Bucky. He wasn’t all that worried about the injury. It wasn’t deep enough to require stitches, but where you had nicked yourself would be a bitch to let heal. He could imagine your clumsy actions causing the cut to reopen a handful of times before it would finally heal.

“Ow.” You whimpered when Bucky blew on the cut, his cool breath making a strange sensation travel up your nerves. It wasn’t pain that he inflicted, but it had shocked you still, and that was the first response your come up with. Bucky wanted to laugh at how cute you were.

“We’ve gotta clean it, Doll. How about you tell Natasha where you keep your bandaids, and I can rinse it so you don’t have to see the blood. Yeah? That sound like a good plan?” He asks softly, making sure that plan was good with Natasha as well. Both Alpha’s just wanted to coddle the Omega, but they were moving at your pace, and Bucky truthfully didn’t blame you if after this you kicked them out and spent the day alone. You had been through so much in the last few days, he could only imagine what that ache in her muscles felt like now. “Such a brave girl for us.”

“Um, b-bandaids are in my bedroom. T-They’re on my nightstand.” You stuttered, your words shaky and breathy. It broke Bucky’s heart to now know what Natasha had been talking about. Even when they’d first arrived this afternoon, your stuttering hadn’t been so harsh and breathy. The scent of anxiety and pain was overwhelming. It made Bucky’s chest tighten almost unbearably.

“Alright Doll, I'm just gonna run your finger under the tap, okay? It’s gonna be cold, and it’s gonna feel weird, but it’s not going to hurt. Okay? It should make it feel better.” You gave a reluctant nod, burying your face in the Alpha’s chest when he reached out to start the tap. You felt utterly pathetic, sobbing over a cut that in truth wasn’t that bad, but it was more than just the cut and the embarrassment that was weighing on your mind and your heart. You didn’t have to be alone anymore, you didn’t have to do things by herself and for yourself, but with that came the responsibility of committing to a pack. You had to let yourself be vulnerable and present in those relationships, and that went against every self preservation method that you had been perfecting and implementing since your mother passed away.

Truthfully, you just didn’t know what to do with yourself and that was overwhelming. You didn’t know what the right move would be for you, or what would send you spiraling with anxiety. You didn’t know your mates at all, but you knew that you wanted them happy and content. You wanted to feel that way too, and you did when you were with them, until all these feelings of uncertainty and anxiety came flooding back to you.

You hissed when the cold water splashed against your skin. The sound of the faucet running was loud and becoming overwhelming the longer it ran. You squirmed in Bucky’s embrace, whining at the discomfort in your body, digging your nose deeper into his neck and scent gland. Every nerve was on fire and the skin of your soulmarks pinched and burned. You just wanted quiet. And between the running tap and the music still playing, all you were being fed were loud obnoxious sounds.

“What do you need, Omega?” Bucky could spot the signs of a mate in distress the easiest, and his reasons for being able to do so were heartbreaking, but Natasha and the others had learned not to give him looks of pity. He was coming to terms with his past and his nightmares, all they could do for him was listen and be in the present.

You felt your finger being blown on and then dried off, most likely by a paper towel, then wrapped tightly in a bandage all in a few seconds. You hadn’t heard Natasha come back, but now that you weren't so blinded by the sound of the faucet you could recognize the second presence right beside you and Bucky.

“O-Overwhelmed.” You whimpered. The Omega opened her eyes for the first time in almost five minutes, trying to force down a wince at how bright the lights in the apartment had become. Bucky and Natasha frowned. You needed to drop, bad, but would you feel comfortable letting them help you? Natasha knew the answer was probably yes, but with conditions and restrictions that would almost definitely overwhelm you more than help you in this state.

You stumbled away from Bucky’s embrace, reaching out for your phone and turning off the music that neither Alpha had minded. Your knees almost buckled at the sight of the blood smeared across the countertops and floor, making the mistake of looking down at your chest.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Buck’ll clean up out here, dorogoy.” Natasha smiled comfortingly, seeing the greenish expression that overcame your face. Natasha made a mental note that blood was added to the top of the ‘things to desperately avoid’ list.

You nodded obidenty. You didn’t argue with either Alpha about being able to do it yourself, because in the moment, you didn’t want to. Your stomach was tight, your muscles ached, and being taken care of by Natasha was the most appealing option you had right now. The second would’ve been to collapse on your couch and take a nap, but you didn’t want them to leave. You liked the way their scents mixed together with yours. You liked the added heat they added to your small apartment. Taking Natasha’s hand when the woman reached out for you to take it, you didn’t try to hide how you melted at the touch and into Natasha.

Natasha waited until you were settled onto your bed before she closed the door, letting the sound of the running tap be blocked out by the wooden door. Your room was entirely your own fairytale space, and it made Natasha’s heart swell. The walls are a bright simple white, but there's not a space in the room that isn’t decorated by rainbow colors or greenery. Natasha’s absolutely in love with the squiggly full length mirror at the foot of your bed, covered in vines and positive messages. Your bed is pretty bare. Natasha had thought you’d be the type to collect stuffed animals, but you’ve kept it minimal it seems. Though your collection of pillows makes up for the almost bare sheets. You’ve got what Natasha assumes are comfort items, sprawled across your bed, and she smiles widely when she sees you reach and grab one of the small blankets.

“Can I ask you a question you might not like, sweetheart?” Natasha tested the waters, not wanting to be the final reason you force herself into a defensive headspace or even worse, Omegaspace. You’re working your way to a self-inflicted drop with or without her pressuring.

“Yes.” You verbalizes, getting the hint that it was the only answer Natasha wanted. When she was serious, she wanted to hear you say that you understood or that you agreed. Despite making your cheeks flush each time, you appreciated it. It made you feel safe, which was ultimately Natasha’s goal.

Natasha smiles, bending down so that you have to look down to meet her eye. Again, it lets the tension melt away from your stomach, feeling like in this position, you aren’t so looked down on. You hold the power right now. “Do you feel like you need to drop?”

Immediately you shakes your head. You don’t think you do. You knows it’ll help to reset your emotions if you do drop, but you think you’re more than okay to continue without one. You just needs to slow down for a couple days, even if that means not seeing Natasha and Bucky, or even letting them do it for you. You know your limit with dropping, and you don't think you’re at it.

“Words, Y/N.” Natasha gently reprimands, laying your hands on your soft thighs. You’ve gotten lost in your head, and as cute as your dazed out expression is, Natasha’s not convinced.

“I think I’m okay for right now.” The Omega whispers shyly, grabbing her Alpha’s hands and twisting her rings around her fingers. “Just need to slow down. Tried to do too much today.”

Natasha nods, more than satisfied with your response. Her proud smile makes you fall into yourself, blushing happily at the wordless praise. “Do you need to slow down alone? Bucky and I won’t be mad if you need some time, mladenec.”

“Don’t want you to leave. C-Can I, Can I take a nap though? Please?” You hold onto Natasha’s hands desperately, not wanting the woman to leave you alone right now. You like this feeling; feeling calm and protected and nurtured. You like not being alone.

“Of course you can, sweetheart. But, I think we should get you out of these clothes first.” Natasha smiles, and so they do that. She helps you into a pair of sweatpants and a brown form fitted ribbed crop top, smiling sweetly at the tired girl in her arms that's only getting sleepier with every step back to Bucky. You’re crashing fast, the adrenaline from just a few minutes ago failing you and burning you out. Natasha had to stop having the unfortunate timing of meeting you on mentally exhausting days.

The third in command laughs aloud at the sight of you blinking slowly, looking between him and Natasha in content. You don’t say anything, just wound your arms around Natasha’s waist and digs your nose into her neck. Natasha rubs her hand up and down the small of your back, smiling when Bucky meets her eye.

“You have to eat, then you can sleep, dorogoy.” Natasha informed, leading you towards the kitchen island. The three of them wouldn’t all fit at it, but Bucky had no problem leaning across the counter so his two girls could have a seat.

“Not hungry.” You slur, dropping your head into your arms when Natasha pulls a chair out for you. Bucky’s lips pull into a lazy smile, his hands still working on plating the two strawberry and peanut butter sandwiches. Natasha’s sandwich is just peanut butter, and it’s already waiting for the red-headed women by the barstool closest to the wall.

“You’ve gotta have some of it, sweetheart.” Natasha says again, raising an eyebrow when you huff. The smaller girl doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate Bucky’s offering, just turns her head in her arms so her brown eyes can squint in Natasha’s direction. “You can pout at me all you want, love, but that sandwich needs to be eaten.”

You whine. You really weren’t hungry, but you didn’t want to disobey your Alpha, especially when Natasha already hadn’t believed you about not needing to drop. So begrudgingly, you reach for the sandwich, thanking Bucky despite your tight pout. You take a small bite from the middle, melting at the taste on your tongue. You don’t want to admit Natasha was right, and you needed to eat because now that you were your stomach felt empty, but you couldn’t help the content sigh that bubbled in your chest.

When the three of them were done with lunch, you dragged them towards your couch. Your eyes were burning, hardly open anymore as you craved sleep. Neither Alpha minded, instead helping you settle into the couch, your head on Natasha’s shoulder while you fiddled with Bucky’s flesh hand. It hadn’t even been six minutes before you were fast asleep, melting into both of your mates like you had never been anywhere else but their embrace.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. The Masterlist.

Series Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. age gap (but all legal and consensual). cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.

Word Count (so far) - 52.5k

Author's Note - another idea i've had for so long!! set in a beautiful coastal beach town - picture sunshine, sailing, beaches and your dad's hot best friend. what more could you want?

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight.

Chapter Nine.

Chapter Nine - the reveal I didn’t choose.

Chapter Ten.

Chapter Eleven.

to be continued…

The Playlist.

The Moodboard.

[buckrecs]

Hello! You are doing the lords work here on this blog🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 do you have any soulmate au recs? I know some people don’t like them so no problem if not and sorry if you’ve been asked before!

Soulmate AU

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

the knowing by @noctumbra

ten days later, james barnes got a call from the police.

for your love by @noctumbra

they were very young; a little shy from being fourteen at that time, but both of them knew they were it. soulmates.

The Owl and the Wolf by @waiting4inspiration

In a world where a person can their soulmate’s spirit animal speaking like a human, Bucky hears your owl’s voice one day.

Snowflakes by @all1e23

Steve drags Bucky to a Christmas festival to take his mind off the fact that he has yet to meet his soulmate.

Colors in the Dark | 2 by @buckychristwrites

The world is without color, and that’s never bothered the Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA didn’t have time for love and soulmates. At almost a century old, what are the odds that his soulmate was even still living?

Say That Again by @justsomebucky

Everyone hears a key word or phrase in their head from their soulmate, something only heard in person when the moment is right.

Teddy Bear by @softlyspector

in which when one soulmate loses something, their other half finds it.

Winter Sun by @softlyspector

When you and Bucky are kidnapped, you find out just how far you would go to keep each other safe.

Assassination to Soulmates by @bxcketbarnes

See the World the Way You Do by @vanderlustwords

You start to see colour when you meet your soulmate. Bucky thinks that soulmates are a one of a kind thing—you get one and that's it. His world used to be colourful once and then he lost that. He's resigned to see black and white for the rest of his life...until flashes of colours would appear from the corner of his eye. And it seemed to happen more and more as Bucky spends time with you.

Stay Still | Please, don’t by @buckysknifecollection

What if your soulmate was the one person you had hurt the most?

Enchanted by @natasharomanovf

The reader is in a loveless relationship when she meets her true soulmate, Bucky.

what’s in a name? by @ciarawritesmarvel

When you love someone, their name appears on your shoulder. If it’s in blue, it’s unrequited. If it’s in red, it’s requited. The name turns black when your love dies. 

SERIES

Who I Was Looking For by @soopranatural

Even after you started wearing cuffs, the words are engraved in your mind as well as your wrist. You know you’re not destined for love as soon as you learn how to read. How could you? When the words “Sorry, you’re not who I was looking for” are written in black ink on your skin.

The Only Exception by @whitestarbucky

Humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves. A lesson that taunted Bucky Barnes his whole life. Perhaps it was why he refused to believe in it. He couldn’t afford to. Then you came into his life to challenge his fears to their deepest degrees, not once, but twice. Whether he liked it or not.

A Moment Of Your Time by @stevesbestgirl

A soulmate AU where the headstrong reader realizes that she’s meant to love the brutal mob boss of New York City, James Buchanan Barnes. She doesn’t want to be a part of organized crime and she doesn’t want to rely on anyone, but how do you ignore your soulmate? 

Scars by @tokoyamisstuff

whatever you write on your skin, it appears on your Soulmate’s.

Flowers Bloom by @revengingbarnes

Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. She is born with flowers around her entire left shoulder.

Heartbeat by @after-avenging-hours

Where your heartbeat matches the beat of your soulmate’s; they speed up together, slow down together, skip at the same time, but that means they also stop together...  

The Color of Blood by @theidiotwhowritesthings

In this world, a person didn’t discover color until they locked eyes with their soulmate. As an agent of SHIELD, finding your soulmate was hardly a priority. Especially since you were currently dealing with the shocking discovery that HYDRA had been pulling the strings behind SHIELD actions this entire time. Life was all about timing, and you were about to find out that your timing was absolute shit.

My night demons by @themorningsunshine

In which one can see their soulmate's dreams and communicate with them through those dreams.

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[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Worth The Wait"

Rated: Mature

Pairing: Steve x Bucky x reader

Tags: soulmate au, Dom/sub au, age difference (26/34), sub reader, soft!dom Steve, bossy!dom Bucky, soulmarks, angst/comfort, stalking, grinding, virginity kink

Summary: When you find out what the two of them have been hiding from you all these years - and more importantly, what they've been depriving you of - you don't react well. You may be a submissive and they may be two Doms with whom your relationship runs deep, but you just cannot with these two idiots. Not this time.

"Please just wait a second. You're overreacting! Come on, Doll, won'tcha just let us expl-"

You whirl around at the nickname, furious. "No!" You reach up to smack away the hand that was reaching for you—Bucky's hand. He looks so hurt by it, and you grit your teeth, mad at him for his audacity to act hurt over this. "Don't call me that," you grit out, face red from how high your blood pressure currently is (and the crying, though you're doing your best to push that back until you can get away from them).

"Sweetie—"

"No! I said shut up!" You glare daggers at him. "You don't get to call me that anymore."

"Honey ..."

"And neither do you!" you snap, turning the daggers on Steve. You point at him, then Bucky, jabbing each of them once in their chests with your finger. "I'm not your 'Honey', I'm not your 'Sweetie'. I'm the girl whose life you've ruined for the past twelve years, and you don't get to act like you care about me now!"

Bucky sighs like you're being unreasonable, and that pisses you off even more than him acting hurt over it had. "Doll, come on. It's not that big of a—"

"God! Just stop!" You turn back to your apartment door and shakily get your keys out and fit the right one to the lock, your angry tears about to burst out of you from frustration when you fumble a few times before getting it open. You feel the heat of the two of them at your back and you push the door inward and take a step in, then turn back around to face them—they're closer, right at the threshold. "Get back," you say tersely, body tensing up at the threat that they might follow you in. You can't take that right now. You need to be alone. You have to process this.

"Come on, Peach. Just let us explain, please. Let's talk about this."

Goddamn him. It's like he's trying to use up his whole repertoire of pet names just to spite you. "There's nothing to talk about!" You grab the edge of the door and push it to slam it shut in their faces, but Bucky's metal hand comes up and stops it from closing completely.

His expression is harder now, his voice lower as he gives you a stern look. "Don't shut us out, Peach."

You huff, sick and tired of his superior attitude. Normally, you like the way he coddles you, talks down to you, calls you pet names—it makes you feel special and warm—but not today. Today you just found out that Stucky (as you refer to the pair of them) are your soulmates—both of them. That's rare but not unheard of. They're both Doms, after all, so it only figured that one or both of them was eventually going to get the tingle for some sub, somewhere, someday. And now you know it's you.

That's not what you're mad about, though. Your stomach had dropped right out when Bucky admitted that he and Steve have known about this for twelve years. Twelve fucking years! And then Steve had the nerve to tell you that they've been tag teaming as "chaperones" (read: stalkers) for the entirety of your dating life—ever since you were fourteen and started going out with Jimmy Bollinger in the ninth grade.

You get sicker the more you think about it: all those fumbled relationships, all those boys (and later, men) who seemed to like you so much, and then who suddenly lost interest; all those times when a Bumble match would stand you up, or when a few kisses and seemingly fantastic dates led to a sudden ghosting. Now you know why. Steve and Bucky have been "handling" (read: intimidating) them out of your sphere for over an entire decade!

You can't even begin to process the betrayal you feel, how confused and upset this makes you. You feel like your best friends have just played the cruelest trick ever, and you can't let them come into your apartment now because you know if you do, they'll just Dom (read: bully) the upset out of you and that is not what you want. It's not what you need. You need to cry and vent and rage. You need to call Wanda over and drink more vodka than Stucky would ever allow you to. So no, you can't let them in.

You sneer at Bucky's hand on the door and his superior expression. "Take your fucking hand off my fucking door, right fucking now, Barnes," you warn, absolutely fed up with him and totally showing it on your stone cold face.

For a second, his eyes narrow and he looks like he'll fight you on it. But Steve puts a hand on his shoulder and says quietly, "Babe," addressing Bucky as his husband. You clench your teeth and glare Bucky down. His features pinch as if it's physically painful for him to respect your wishes, but he does pull back—which, unbeknownst to him, saves him from a swift punch to the face. He opens his mouth like he'll say something else, continue arguing that you shouldn't be upset at them, but before he can, you slam the door shut in their faces, rapidly locking it and throwing the deadbolt once it's closed.

You stand there, immediately breaking into the tears you were trying so desperately to hold back in front of them, both palms flat on the door and then your forehead resting between them as all the anger inside you suddenly collapses into sorrow.

How could they do this to you?!

You hear them talking from the other side of the door, though it's muffled. They sound frustrated, talking to each other, arguing back and forth in low, hissed voices. You can't make all of their words out, but you do hear Steve scolding Bucky for his aggressiveness, and then Bucky sniping back about Steve being too soft.

"Now she'll never come outta there," he complains to Steve. "She needs us! We need to talk to her, hold her! We need to explain—"

"—You think I don't know that?! Think I don't want her in my arms just as bad as you do?!"

You scoff at the back and forth of their arguing and pull away from the door, not wanting to hear it. You stomp back to your bedroom and slam the door shut, hard, hoping they hear it from out in the hall. You toss your purse on the bed, then yourself. You let yourself break down completely and just sob into your pillow for a while; hot, angry, devastated tears wetting the pillowcase and making you snotty and miserable as you think about the joke they've made of you all these years.

Every single time, you think, horrified as the realization sinks deeper and deeper with the more memories you drag up and examine. From Jimmy in ninth grade, from high school crushes and a ruined prom night, through all your college boyfriends and after-college boyfriends, all the way up to your third date/breakup with Derrick today: All of it has been because of them.

You'd thought there was something wrong with you; that you were a bad kisser, or not that pretty, not thin enough or not toned enough, not smart or interesting enough. You'd angsted over whether maybe you talked too much about heavy topics on first dates, or didn't give off a heavy enough sub vibe—or too much of a sub vibe. All these years trying so desperately to improve yourself, to make yourself lovable, and it turns out that Steve and Bucky were chasing away any chance you had at love in the first place.

You break down for a while in your room, crying and fuming and crying some more, utterly devastated at their betrayal. Eventually the tears run out, and instead you just get really, really angry.

The audacity of them! You remember the scene from earlier, when you'd bumped into them outside the restaurant where Derrick had cautiously told you that he "wasn't ready for a relationship," and that "it was him, not you." You'd left, managing not to cry despite how dejected you'd felt, so sure that it was you (again), and found Bucky and Steve standing there, looking like they'd been waiting for it to happen.

Steve had looked nervous, Bucky less so. He'd been the one to comfort you as you all walked back towards the building you shared. He'd told you that the guy didn't deserve you anyway, that you were too good for him—all the usual platitudes that did only a little to heal the hurt of another rejection. You hadn't thought much of how they'd just been there outside the restaurant, chalking it up to coincidence at first.

God, you felt so stupid now! All these years and you've never seen it. You lay there in your bed and replay that evening in your mind, going back to the moment it'd happened:

"Just tell her," Steve says, once you've reached the stoop in front of your building.

"Tell me what?"

Bucky takes a deep breath and puts both hands on your shoulders as he looks in your eyes and gently confesses, "It's us, Doll. We're the reason why none of your relationships have really worked out." He glances over at Steve, and the two of them share a knowing look, before he turns back to you and the both of them stare you down. "We've been waiting for you."

You get a sinking sense of dread right away, even though you don't understand what he means. "What?" You lift your hands to cover his on your shoulders, intending to push them off, but he only curls his fingers more firmly there. "What are you saying?"

"We're your soulmates, Honey," Steve says, while Bucky nods. "We have been for ... well ... since you were fourteen." He kind of winces when he says it, and you gape for a full five seconds before you manage to squeak,

"What?!"

Bucky leads you over to the bench that sits in front of your building, urging you down to sit between them. Their big bodies crowd you in from either side, pressing up against you, but for the first time in your life, it doesn't feel like safety. "No," you whimper, looking back and forth between them to try and see that this is just a mean joke. "You don't ... you aren't ..." Steve nods seriously, and you feel your breath leave you. "You can't be. I mean, not all this time? You knew? And you didn't ... you knew you were my ..."

"Yeah, your soulmates, Honey." Steve puts his hand on top of your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze that you suppose is meant to be comforting. "It's a good thing, yeah?"

You shudder, humiliated. "How could you?"

They share a confused look, mistaking your meaning and each of them answering simultaneously:

"We have your Words."

"We felt it happen."

You scoff. "I mean: how could you do this to me?!"

They both look shocked that you're so upset about it. They hold you still to keep you sitting on the bench between them when you try to get up. "Hold on, Doll. Let us explain."

"Explain? Explain?!"

"We were just protecting you, Hon, until you got a little older, until you were ready." Steve is so coaxing, so sweet like he always is, and Bucky hums and pets your arm as he acknowledges that what Steve is saying is the truth.

“But we watched out for you.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“We had to look after you,” Steve explains, like it’s common sense. “Couldn’t let any of those guys get serious with you, you know?”

“... Oh my god,” you whisper. Neither one of them seems to pick up on the horror that's dawning on you, as you realize the full scope of the situation. "Since I was ... f-fourteen?" you say, beginning to hyperventilate, thinking of all the not-quite-boyfriends of so many years, the canceled dates, the ghosted texts, the "I'm not ready for this" excuses.

You're ... you're still a virgin because of these two!

New strength enters your body and you surge to your feet, breaking through their hold on you. You turn to them with angry tears already building up behind your eyes. This is unbelievable! How could they do this to you? "How?!" you demand, voice wavering with emotion. "Show me."

They each pull down on the necklines of their tee shirts, stretching the fabric to reveal the top swells of their left pecs. And there, just underneath their left collarbones, are the matching marks:

You guys are complete idiots, you do realize this?

The Words on their skin are in that odd shade of muted red that everyone's Words are in—like an old scar that never quite healed—and you stare, unable to breathe for a couple of seconds. You must've called them "idiots" and "dumbasses" a thousand times over the years, but the second you see their marks, you somehow know the exact instance when you'd said those words; the memory of the encounter playing out in your mind as clear as if it were right there in front of you on a tv screen.

You flounder for a bit as you try to make sense of it, to somehow make what they're telling you less awful. "So you've ... you've just been ruining my dates for ... for ten years?!"

Neither of them look prepared for this reaction from you. "Well ... twelve," Steve grimaces. "But it was 'cause we knew—"

"Because you knew and didn't tell me! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Sweetie, just calm down for a sec. This is good news. We were trying to protect you."

You turn all your anger on Bucky at that point, incensed. "Protect me?!"

You don't miss the way that his eyes harden, how he squares his jaw and gives you a firm, "Yes. To protect you." You scoff, and he leans forward and grabs your wrist and tugs you back to the bench, but you land ungracefully in his lap and he wraps his arms around your middle so that you can't escape, your back pressed tightly to his chest.

"Let me go!"

"No. You're going to sit still like a good girl and hear us out," he says, using his Dominant tone, and you freeze at hearing it. Bucky and Steve never intone with you. They're your friends. They're respectful. Sure, there's always been a small degree of sexual tension present between you, but they're married, they're Stucky, and they've always been platonic with you. Always! Bucky's breath hits warm against your scalp and the shell of your ear as he tries to calm you down. "You were too young at fourteen, Doll," he says, still speaking sternly but also compassionately. "Can't you understand that?"

Steve nods along in agreement. "You weren't ready to be tied down to someone. You weren't ready to be Dommed, and you sure as hell weren't ready for intimacy of any kind."

"Intimacy?" you sneer, struggling and failing against the strength of Bucky's arms. "Like I'd have any clue what that is, huh? I'm twenty-six goddamn years old and I've never gotten past second base! I thought there was something wrong with me. And now I find out, after all these years of angsting, that it's because you two have been cock blocking me?!"

"Calm down," Bucky growls in your ear—another Dominant order, just as Steve says,

"Sweetheart, please ..."

To your great shame, you have a physical reaction to Bucky's hold on you: his strong arms restraining you and his scruff brushing against your neck and his Dominant tone seeping into your brain—and Steve's coaxing entreaties coming from the side don't help. It's not under your control, how your clit pulses and your panties get a little wet spot from all that stimulation. You are a submissive, after all, and this is Bucky doing this to you. How many times have you thought about it? How many nights spent lying in bed have you brought him to mind, or him and Steve to mind, as you've slipped a hand down your belly and—

No, you think, shutting those thoughts off in anger. You're not going to go soft for them now. They can't get away with this.

You've been crying at this point, a few tears escaping down your cheeks like firebrands, only increasing your humiliation. And of course Steve coos and leans in to wipe them away. "Hey, heey, Honey. It's okay. We're here now."

You jerk away from him like his hands are poison and you hiss, "Don't touch me."

Steve's hand falls away, his face so full of concern. "Honey ..." he laments.

"No. Don't call me that. Don't touch me." You squirm hard in Bucky's arms again, and when he doesn't let you go you huff and turn to Steve. "Make him let me go. Now."

Your gaze must be murderous, because after a brief hesitation, Steve reluctantly convinces Bucky to let go of you. You immediately get to your feet and storm off, hurrying into the apartment building and towards the elevator, the two men following at your back. "Leave me alone!"

They catch up to you at the elevator before the doors can fully shut, Bucky glaring and Steve wincing as they block the doors and force their way inside. "Please," Steve says, begging you to understand. "It was for your own good."

Wrong thing to say. You go to jab the button for your floor and cross your arms, keeping yourself away from them—and well out of Bucky's reach. Bucky pushes the button for his and Steve's floor, too (it's just below yours), and then swipes his hand over the buttons for every other floor. You hiss and whirl around. "Christ. Real mature, Bucky."

"We need the time to talk."

"You could have told me!"

"We wanted you to have your freedom, Hon," Steve pleads. His kind tone only makes you angrier.

"Freedom?! How is that freedom? Freedom to do what? to spend years trying to find a connection with someone and fail? to figure that it must be me; that I'm, I dunno, overestimating myself? to convince myself I'm a seven and then decide that I must really only be, like, a solid four 'cause no one wants me?"

"The fuck?" Bucky growls and steps forward. "You're gorgeous." But he says it like a chastisement instead of a compliment, and you're far too angry to take any compliments from him, anyway.

"Fuck you!"

"Is that what you would've preferred?" he says darkly. "Hm? Because we were twenty-four back then, already out of college. And you were fourteen fucking years old, Sweetheart." You blush and avert your eyes, and Bucky nods, vindicated. "You really think two grown-ass men were gonna come busting in when you were still practically a kid? Take advantage of you in your prissy little ballerina bedroom? Hm? Pop your cherry on that sweet lacy duvet?"

"Buck," Steve complains.

It's a mean assessment, but it's accurate, and you suddenly hate that Bucky knows what your childhood bedroom back at your parents' apartment looks like. "No," you answer him tightly. "But you should've told me, not stalked me for twelve fucking years to make sure I never get laid!" You're still blushing as you say the words, but Steve looks a little ashamed, so you're glad you did.

At their floor, they try to coax you out into the hallway to go home with them like you've done so many times in the past, but you stay in the elevator and jab at the close door button, trying to shut them out. No such luck.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bucky asks as he steps back on, Steve right behind. You back up until you hit the elevator's wall, nowhere to go. Bucky crowds you in while Steve stands beside you. They both look a little less apologetic now and a little more ... well, dominant.

"Home," you say, meaning for the word come out assertive. Instead it comes out timid and you nearly cringe at yourself. "M'going home. Alone."

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Oh is that so?" The way he says it is dark and dangerous and smooth as satin. It makes your pulse quicken—but not in fear.

"Bucky," you breathe, trying to move to get around him, but they both block you in. "Ugh! Let me go."

They don't allow it. Bucky shoves his knee forward, forcing your legs to part. You gasp and he moves closer, pressing, holding you in place with his thick thigh wedged up against your clothed cunt. He rests his weight through his hand against the wall, right next to your head. Then, holding eye contact and with his lips parted, expression intent, he grinds his thigh forward.

You make an embarrassing 'yip' of a sound, and his eyes darken. You've never seen him look like that—not at you. It makes something nervous and desperate begin to gather in your belly. "Stop," you say, trying so hard to make your voice firm. You push against his chest, mad that he's using his dominance to bring out your submission. You've never subbed for Bucky or Steve—or anyone, really. At least nobody you care about. Since you've been unable to gain a sexual partner all these years, you've always used the services provided by Pro Doms - their platonic services, because no way in hell were you ever going to sign up to lose your virginity in a glorified medical clinic.

"Just relax for me," Bucky intones, nearly purring the words down at you. "Let us take you home and talk this out, huh?"

You whine at the increasing tug in your belly, embarrassed. "Don't–don't do that," you stammer, turning your head away from him. "S'not fair."

Bucky hums, pleased, but Steve clears his throat and then you hear him murmuring, "Buck, let her go. You can't force this. It isn't right."

You breathe a sigh of relief when Bucky pulls back from you, removing the pressure from between your legs. You have to fight the urge to put your hand down there, or to try and rub your thighs together. His big thigh pushed up between your legs had felt so good, and now it's gone.

"You liked that," Bucky says smugly, eyes gleaming. "Admit it. That made you wet just now, didn't it?"

You're scowling as Steve is once again chastising his husband for his crude comments. "Buck! Come on, man."

"Like I'd ever get turned on by you," you snap, hands balled into fists so you don't try to hit him again. "You're like my brother. Gross!"

It's not true. Not even a little bit. But you can tell that it gets under Bucky's skin, that it bothers him, so you sneer at him all the more and jab the button for your floor. The elevator moves up. Bucky's not intoning anymore, so that tugging in your belly fades away and your anger resurfaces, only this time it's even worse. You scowl at him and step forward, shoving him in the chest with your full might.

He barely moves, and when you shove him again and again, he only moves back by a small step, keeping his balance and leering at you because it's obvious how weak you are and how strong he is—and he knows that as a sub, you can't help but like that.

"Ugh!" You're ready to cry again, so mad and so humiliated by what they've done to you. "I hate you!"

"Don't say that, Honey," Steve mourns, still so fucking kind that you can hardly stand him any better than Bucky.

"Fuck you too, Steven," you snap, groaning in relief when the elevator finally 'dings' at your floor and the doors open. You step out and hurry down the hall towards your apartment, knowing that they're following you.

Which leads us all the way back to you, crying and fuming in your bedroom; and Bucky and Steve, ostensibly locked out in the hallway. You have no idea how long they loiter out there, but you're too afraid to open the door and check. You turn on your tv for background noise and make tea, checking the peep hole occasionally, but you can’t hear them talking anymore. If they are out there, they're making sure to stay out of eyeshot.

You huff at your own paranoia when you pull back from the most recent peephole check. You don't need to be doing this. You've already spent forty minutes crying, over an hour fuming, and another hour cry-fuming less vigorously over a few cups of tea. It's time to call for reinforcements.

"Wanda? Hey. I need you to come over for a girls' night."

Wanda, ever perceptive, can hear your clogged sinuses through the phone. She asks.

You sniffle and admit, "No, it's not good. Bring Nat if she's free. And plenty of Vodka."

Masterlist

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[theidiotwhowritesthings]

The Color of Blood [4]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, situational almost non-con kissing? (it’s not too bad, I swear, but I don’t wanna catch anyone off guard), cursing, mentions of PTSD/flashbacks/nightmares

Word Count: 3,976

Summary: In this world, a person didn’t discover color until they locked eyes with their soulmate. As an agent of SHIELD, finding your soulmate was hardly a priority. Especially since you were currently dealing with the shocking discovery that HYDRA had been pulling the strings behind SHIELD actions this entire time. Life was all about timing, and you were about to find out that your timing was absolute shit.

Bucky stood stiff beside you. Over the last few days, the two of you had floated around, out of sight, but hadn’t left DC yet. There was something you wanted him to see first. He wore some clothes you had gotten for him, a baseball cap over his clean hair, and his face was drawn in solemn concentration.

“I’m gonna wait here.��� You whispered. Bucky turned and gave you a curious look and you just shrugged. “This is something you have to do alone, I think, but I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Bucky stared at you for another beat before walking away from you into the exhibit. The ‘Captain America and the Howling Commandos’ display wasn’t as crowded today as it had been the day you came with Steve. You turned and found a bench to sit on.

The last few days had been… unusual. Looking from the outside it was probably awkward. Bucky had said less than ten words to you since the two of you left that used to be bank. He stayed though. Bucky hadn’t run from you, and despite the lack of communication, you felt comfortable. Being around him, despite barely knowing him, was just nice. You were on the run with a man who people either thought were dead or a criminal, but you felt at peace for the first time…well…ever.

You rested your elbows on your knees and kept your face down in hopes that your own hat shielded your face from view. The burner phone in your coat pocket began to go off so you quickly pulled it out and answered. It was a quick phone call, only minutes long, but it was good news. One of your sources had gotten you in touch with a guy that could get you and Bucky out of the country without being seen. Granted that meant the two of you would be riding in a sketchy cargo plane leaving an abandoned airfield at around 1:30 in the morning, but beggars couldn’t be picky.

More time passed, nearly pushing onto an hour and a half, and you briefly wondered if he would come back. This would be the perfect opportunity for Bucky to slip away if he really wanted to and you couldn’t blame him. You couldn’t imagine what he was mentally going through right now and as much as you hated to admit it, you didn’t even know where to begin to help. You figured getting out of sight was a good first step, but you were winging this entirely.

You sighed and buried your face into your hands. What if you couldn’t help him? What if you made this worse somehow? What kind of soulmate would that make you? You rubbed your hands against your face and then moved them to the back of your neck. Familiar shoes stepped into your line of vision and you glanced up just as Bucky knelt down in front of you. You hadn’t even heard him walk up.  

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked softly, his voice low.

You gave him a tight smile, “Yeah. How are you? How was…”

Bucky glanced down at his feet briefly before looking back up to meet your gaze. The corner of his lips twitched up just a bit. It was the closest thing you had seen to a smile on him, but you could hardly even consider it that with the pain that was still in his eyes. He nodded once, “Thank you for this. I…”

“You’re welcome.” You replied. He didn’t need to say anything more than that. Bucky stood up and he hesitated for a moment before holding his hand out to you. You took it and he pulled you up from your seat before shoving his hands into his coat pocket. “I got us a ride out of the country.” Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise. “How do you feel about Romania?”

4 MONTHS AFTER THE FALL OF SHIELD

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” You mumbled under your breath as you tried to salvage the chicken that was burning in the pan. You had only looked away for a second and the damn thing chose that moment to start turning black. It was ridiculous. All the skills you had as an agent did not translate over into the domestic world. You beat the Black Widow in sparring once, only once, and yet you couldn’t cook a chicken without fucking it up.

Bucky was suddenly beside you, you never heard him coming, but he carefully took the spatula from you and went to work in fixing what you had messed up. The two of you were living the weirdest domestic life that probably ever existed. You shared a tiny apartment in the middle of a busy Romanian city. It was only one large room with a bathroom that branched off it. A bed sat in the corner that you slept on and a couch sat in the middle of the room, a little way in front of the kitchen island counter, that Bucky slept on. You fought him tooth and nail to trade, since he was so much larger, but the man wouldn’t have it.

The two of you had fallen into a familiar, cozy habit. You worked at a small café nearby with a fake name to earn money and Bucky did odd jobs that he ran into around the apartment complex. He mostly stayed out of sight for now. It was better that way.

Despite four months together, Bucky still didn’t say much. He’d hold a soft conversation with you now and again, but he kept mostly to himself. He’d read books you picked up from him on the way home and he’d write in a few notebooks he kept. You weren’t entirely sure what he wrote all the time, but it didn’t seem like your place to be nosy about it.

You found comfort in all that silence though. Bucky didn’t talk much, but he did little things that warmed your heart. He’d make your coffee just like you liked it in the morning without saying a word and sometimes when you’d wake up from a nap you’d find a blanket spread over you despite not placing it there when you passed out. You had a bit of a sweet tooth, but it didn’t feel right spending your limited money on any sort of sweets. Yet, sometimes you’d come home from work and your favorite candy or pastry would be on the counter waiting for you.

“How did you manage to fix this mess?” You asked with a chuckle. The edges of the chicken were still burned because of you, but Bucky had managed to save the rest.

Bucky gave you a small smile, “It’s easy. You just make cooking a lot harder than it should.”

Your lips curled up into a wide grin at his teasing. Bucky diverted his eyes away from you and focused back on the pan. The urge to bump your shoulder into his playfully came to mind, but you resisted. He still wasn’t much of a fan of any sort of contact, understandably. The only times he sought out any sort of touch was after one of his nightmares, which he still had regularly much to your dismay, and you never hesitated to wrap your arms around him and give him any sort of comfort he needed.

7 MONTHS AFTER THE FALL OF SHIELD

It was the middle of the night and at first you weren’t entirely sure what had roused you from your sleep. Your eyes fluttered wearily, and it took a second for your eyes to adjust to the dark. There was a weight on the mattress beside you and when you turned your head you came face to face with Bucky. You took in a sharp breath as your eyes traced his features. Not Bucky. The Soldier.

This wasn’t the first time you had woken up to what HYDRA had created. Sometimes Bucky would have a terrible nightmare and instead of waking up himself the Soldier would slip through the cracks. As startling as it was though, the Soldier had never hurt you.  

He was lying on his right side, and slowly lifted his left hand up to your face. That was one strange thing you noticed. Bucky tended to shy away from physical touch still, but anytime he did reach out to you he always used his right hand. His flesh and blood. Anytime the Soldier came out to play though, he would only touch you with the metal one.

The Soldier traced his metal fingers across your eyebrow then around the curve of your eye down to the cheekbone beneath it. He lightly grazed the skin there before letting his fingers trail down the bridge of your nose until they found your lips. The Soldier’s cold fingers traced your lips and you stayed as still as possible as you let him. He never seemed to mean you harm and he never went too far. It seemed like he just liked to trace your features, like a man memorizing a lover’s face, while mumbling in Russian.

You couldn’t help but gasp a little when his cold finger brushed against your neck. They followed the curve down to your shoulder and slipped under the edge of your shirt just a bit so he could feel your collarbones. It was all normal. Actually, normal might not be the right word. You didn’t think anything about this was normal. It was the usual though. Nothing out of the ordinary and you actually found your eyes drifting closed at the feather light touches.

The Soldier shifted beside you, but you didn’t think anything of it until the metal hand cupped around your neck. Your eyes snapped open, panicked, but the Soldier’s face just hovered over yours as he half leaned on top of you. It was easy to differentiate between the Soldier and your soulmate. As time had passed you mentally separated the two and drew a line in the sand. The face hovering over yours with cold eyes and tightly drawn lips was not your Bucky. It was not the man whose lips would curl up into a small smile anytime you walked into the room. It wasn’t the man whose soft, stormy eyes made you feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. Like you were something special.

Your thoughts were interrupted when the Solider leaned down. You whipped your head to the side, his lips landing on the side of your face, and his hands tightened around your neck in response to try and straighten your head.

“Bucky!” You yelled. The moment the name fell from your lips the body half on top of yours leaped off. You sat up and your eyes landed on Bucky who was pressed against the wall opposite from you, his chest heaving like he had run a marathon. It was Bucky though. It was your Bucky. You recognized those eyes, “Buck—”

Bucky’s eyes snapped to meet yours, but before you could say another word he sprinted out the front door. You fell out of bed, tangled in your own blankets, then tried to run after him. By time you got to the stairs though he was far out of sight. Panic flooded your system. You stumbled back to your apartment and sat down at the kitchen island at one of the two bar stools you had.

You had known the Soldier wouldn’t have hurt you. Something in you was convinced that if you had told him to stop he would’ve immediately.  You had just panicked though. The first time you’d kiss those lips you wanted it to be Bucky. It’d be a lie to say you hadn’t thought of it before, but you’d wait until he was ready. Even if that took years and years and years.

What if he didn’t come back?

That thought plagued you for hours until you passed out on the counter.

Morning light filled the room around you and when you slowly woke up you realized you were lying back on your bed rather than the kitchen island. Your blanket was tucked around you, a good sign, but Bucky was nowhere to be seen in the room and you didn’t hear the bathroom fan running. Worry ran through your veins as you sat up, but before you could start to form some kind of plan the front door opened.

Bucky stepped inside, baseball cap pulled tight over his dark hair, and he stopped at the sight of you staring at him. In one hand he had a box of pastries from your favorite bakery down the street and in the other he had a bouquet of flowers. He swallowed nervously, using his foot to close the door behind him. You stood up as he walked over to the counter and set the items he had on the tile top.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky breathed. “I’m so sorry. I thought about leaving. Thought it’d be better, but…” He clenched his jaw and glanced down at his feet with a shake of his head before looking back up at you, “I couldn’t. I’m so sorry.”

You crossed the room, stopping in front of him, and pressed your lips together, “Can I—Can I hug you?”

Bucky opened his mouth just to shut it again then he nodded. That was all you needed. You closed the space between the two of you and threw your arms around him as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. It took a moment, but you slowly felt him wrap his arms around you as well.

“It’s okay.” You whispered. “I’m not scared of you. You’d never hurt me, Bucky.”

His arms tightened around you just a little bit more.

14 MONTHS AFTER THE FALL OF SHIELD

It had been a normal day. You had gotten home from work in a good mood, dinner had been made and eaten. After a year together, the two of you had settled like some sort of old married couple. It wasn’t the kind of life you ever expected you’d have, but you were weirdly happy. Bucky had improved a lot over the year. He still had nightmares, but they were coming once a week rather than daily now. More than that, he smiled these days. He’d smile and laugh and he’d talk to you about old memories that came to him. That’s what those notebooks he kept were. One was for the memories he wished he didn’t remember. Missions that he felt obligated to suffer for. One was for memories from his past. Things about Steve or his sister Rebecca or his parents and friends. Then the third notebook he had was for things he never wanted to forget. It was like his journal.

Bucky had come so far and nothing proved that more to you than the moment he touched you for no reason other than wanting to touch you. You had been at the sink, washing dishes, and he had come over to help you by drying. As he grabbed the rag though, he set his right hand on the small of your back and left it there for just a moment. It was such a small thing, sweet and short, but it felt like such a huge step as well.

It had felt like a switch had been flipped. Bucky had gone from no contact at all to constantly having at least one hand on you. It was all innocent touches. A hand on your shoulder, a hand on your back as he passed you, a brush against your wrist as he handed you a coffee, or his shoulder pressed against yours when you sat on the couch together talking. It was just like he was trying to convince himself that you were actually there beside him. You liked it though. You liked it a lot.

16 MONTHS AFTER THE FALL OF SHIELD

Your shift at the café had lasted longer than it usually did, you were covering for a coworker, and when you got home you figured Bucky would’ve eaten by now and had something set aside for you. That’s usually how it went. When you opened the apartment door you were startled to see that the room lights were out, but a couple candles were lit on the kitchen counter. The setting sun cast light through the small balcony door you guys had as well. Bucky had been by the fridge and he turned around at the sound of your entrance.

Bucky had on a button up shirt and jeans, rather than his usual t-shirt and jacket, and his hair was pulled back into a small half bun so it didn’t hang in his face. On the counter, by the candles, you now realized there were two plates set out and a small thing of flowers there as well. A small smile flittered to your features and Bucky mimicked the motion.

“Hey,” He nodded and wrung his hands together, a nervous tic of his that you recognized, “I figure, we’ve lived together almost a year and a half now, yet I still haven’t taken my soulmate out on any kind of date.” Bucky cleared his throat. “My ma would beat me if she knew.”

You laughed, “Oh, would she?”

“Without a doubt.” Bucky nodded. He quickly stepped forward and pulled out the stool for you, “I made your favorite.”

You tossed your bag aside and sat down on the stool, “My favorite? Wow, you’re pulling out all the stops, aren’t you?”

“I’m trying, doll.” Bucky chuckled and moved to get the food. “I’m just praying some of the charm I used to have back in the day somehow survived.”

“I think you’d be surprised.” You replied with a smirk. After setting the food down, he grabbed a bottle of wine and uncorked it. If someone had told you that your first date with your soulmate was going to be in a rundown apartment in Romania after living with them for a year then you would’ve laughed in their face. Yet, here you were doing just that and you couldn’t imagine a more perfect first date.

The evening went by perfectly. As the sun dipped below the horizon the only thing lighting the room were the candles and the moonlight.

Bucky chuckled and took a sip of his drink, “It would be too cheesy if I said that of all the colors we can now see my favorite is your eyes, right?”

“Oh, absolutely.” You laughed even though your favorite color was definitely the stormy, blue gray of his. “You were supposed to be convincing me that you were charming not cheesy.”

Bucky grinned and it made him look years younger, “I am doing my best. Can I get a little slack, doll?”

“Nope.” You said and finished the last of your wine. “I’m actually keeping score right now so I can give you a grade by the end of the night.” Bucky shook his head and stood up to grab the wine bottle off the counter behind him. He poured a little more in your glass. “I can’t decide if you gain points for giving me more wine or lose points for trying to get me inebriated.”

Bucky scoffed, “You’re killing me. You know that right? Actually killing me.”

“You love it.” You joked in response.

He hesitated beside you, setting the bottle down, and cleared his throat, “Yeah. I do.” Your eyes widened a little at his tone. Bucky leaned one arm on the counter beside you and took in a steadying breath, “Everything you’ve done for me… I can’t even begin to tell you how much that means to me.”

“Bucky…”

Bucky shifted to set his hand on top of yours, “I spent the first 27 years of my life wondering what it’d be like to meet my soulmate. What she’d be like. Then, when I—when I fell… I can remember it. I can remember lying in the snow, bleeding, and I distinctly remember waiting to die and feeling so goddamn sorry.” You flipped your hand over to squeeze his hand in comfort. “I felt so awful that I was leaving my soulmate with no one. That she’d live in a world without color for the rest of her life because I made a stupid mistake on a mission.” He gave you a tight smile. “Then I met you. I don’t deserve any of this. After everything I’ve done—”

“None of that was your fault. That was HYDRA, not you.” You said firmly.

Bucky raised his other hand to set on the side of your face, “I don’t understand how I’m so lucky to have a soulmate as remarkable and amazing as you. I love you. I just want you to know that.”

“I love you.” You replied softly and you meant it with your entire being. Bucky said he was lucky, but you felt like the lucky one. You had never met someone who seemed to just understand you like he did. He might have thought all of this was effort for you, a trial, but this past year and half had been the best of your life.

Bucky’s eyes darted down to your lips and he slowly leaned forward. His lips hovered a breath away from yours and you knew he was giving you the space to pull back if you wanted to. That was the last thing on your mind though. You had been waiting for this moment for so long. You leaned forward, eyes closed, and pressed your lips against his. The kiss was soft, hesitant, and you broke apart after a moment. When your eyes opened and met his again though something changed between the two of you.

You stood up from your stool, knocking it over in the process, and wrapped your arms around his neck as you pulled his lips back to yours. Bucky grabbed your thighs, not letting his lips leave yours, and lifted you up until you were sitting on the counter. One hand traced up your body, grabbing the back of your head to hold you close, as his other rested on your back to pull you flush against his chest. You sucked on his lower lip and the groan that fell from his mouth was a sound you’d do anything to hear again.

Bucky tore his lips from yours and left a trail of kisses along your jawline, to the space right below your ear, then down the side of your neck until you felt his teeth graze against your pulse point. A small gasp left your lips as his tongue brushed over where his teeth had gotten you and he tightened his other arm around you as if you weren’t already pressed as close to him as you physically could be.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this.” Bucky mumbled against your skin.

You grinned and tugged on his shirt to bring his lips back towards yours, “Could’ve fooled me.” Bucky slipped his tongue between your lips and you briefly wondered how the hell anyone could be this good at kissing. You didn’t realize a kiss could be good enough to make you feel like this. After another moment, the kiss turned soft again. Bucky pulled back slightly only to lean forward and press his lips against yours a few more times. You set your hands on either side of his face and met his warm gaze. “I love you.”

“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.” Bucky mumbled and pressed his lips against yours again. “I love you.”

Romania wasn’t a place you planned to call home, but you were beginning to realize that home was in Bucky’s arms.

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