#But nothing seems out of pocket to me
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at least for vaspider it looks like the main accusation is that theyâre a Zionist which doesnât seem even remotely true from searching their blog. Theyâre a Jewish person saying that the atrocities currently happening in Gaza donât excuse being antisemitic to jewish people in the rest of the world
when I stop reading the post
#I should rephrase whatâs currently happening in Gaza doesnât make it ok to be antisemitic to people in Israel either#You can and should criticize Israel the state and government and military and you donât have to antisemitic to do that#But anyway yeah if Iâm wrong Iâd love to see some evidence to the contrary I know tumblrs search function is a shit and leaves stuff out#But nothing seems out of pocket to me#I think some of these people are wrapped up in pro/anti ship nonsense too that could be it#Or maybe op just finds them annoying thatâs possible too#And fair theyre on like every popular tumblr post
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this is a funny as fuck dialogue option for when you're playing a dead-birth-parents-rogue who just so happens to be mixed. get gathened idiot.
#succ speaks#i just think it's funny that wotc constantly has NO idea how to handle half-elves from a mixed lens.#as much as i WOULD be happy that larian devs were there to say 'hey man people can be proud of their mixed heritage'#it's just funny as fuck to me that the first time i'm seeing this line is with mo fucking gathen.#the only funnier option is 3. this bitch is withering away there's nothing sexy about him unless u ask his actual party's paladin(s)#baldur's gate 3 kind of sucks especially early on but it's worth it to me to be funny while playing with friends who know this character#'hmm. i can't seem to recall what happened to elturel.' [finished the descent into avernus adventure path. was one of the adventurers.]#'the zhentarim? i think i've heard of them somewhere' [is a zhent ardragon with specialties in legal dealings and investigations]#the running joke is that he got mind flayer brain damage after a stat scramble and cannot find the right people for the life of him#this is so funny though. imagine i just became a small local hero and some nice girl i helped one time says she'll sing a song about me#and she's like 'what should i sing about' and i'm like. 'how about my mixed heritage.' LMFAOOOOO that's so out of pocket#like my friend is so curious and wants me to choose it because he wants to know what alfira's even going to DO with that like ????
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The United States privatized healthcare system is a separate circle of hell you have to go to before you die
#it would just be cheaper and simpler to not get insurance and pay for everything out of pocket and hope nothing expensive happens to me#but people WILL TURN YOU AWAY IF YOU DONT HAVE INSURANCE#and if you HAVE to fucking buy it you at least want it to do SOMETHING for you rather than paying hundreds every month for almost no benefit#but for some of these it seems like u have to break your arms and legs on purpose and pay for it out of pocket to hit the minimum deductible#i am privileged enough to be able to afford what people claim is sort of good insurance but ITS NOT GOOD NONE OF IT IS GOOD. ITS ALL A SCAM.#what a miserable money sinkhole of an industry that we're forced to pay for to be treated like we have the right to enter a doctors office.#every insurance company CEO please swallow gravel Im not joking.#privatized healthcare is truly evil. charging people to have fragile bodies.#roscoe rambles
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Finally sent the email (only took me a month)
Emails really offer a snapshot of all that is wrong with modern life.
In history books I expect there to be a paragraph at the end of our chapter explaining 'why were they like that' and its just a little summary saying 'ok so they had these things called emails'
#to be clear i don't think it's emails themselves that fucked us#emails are not a bad idea! many things are made easier by the existence of emails#HOWEVER#while a harmless concept i think that emails were themselves very vulnerable to the rot that runs through our society#its about the constant advertising. its about having to wade through it to find what's important.#it's about my government communicating with me in the same place as someone trying to sell me a new hat & also the person trying to scam me#it's about how the hat man is only there to sell me hats because i welcomed him in for a 10% discount.#i sold 24/7 access to myself for a convenience! for nothing! and it seemed reasonable at the time. it will seem reasonable next time#where do i wade through bureaucracy more often than my inbox???#and then... its that emails are there all of the time. they didn't use to be. we made them so. they didn't have to be.#every day i walk about society with a pocket full of letters. their constant weight only serves to increase the time it takes you to reply?#with an email there is no urgency there is all the urgency#(we've all worked with someone who marks everything as urgent. no Andrew. this isn't urgent & you didnt need to send it to the whole team)#its about a workload which nobody will ever admit is unmanageable and yet which you are never supposed to see an end of#it's about the intimate distance. the personal remoteness of it all#it's about the world being filled with beauty but none of that reaching emails. emails serve to wash out the joy.#a good thing in an email is not as good as the same thing out of an email#nothing is real#the number of unread messages means nothing here. none of it means anything. it's all washed out
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if I've learned anything from grad school it's to check your sources, and this has proven invaluable in the dozens of instances when I've had an MBA-type try to tell me something about finances or leadership. Case in point:
Firefox serves me clickbaity articles through Pocket, which is fine because I like Firefox. But sometimes an article makes me curious. I'm pretty anal about my finances, and I wondered if this article was, as I suspected, total horseshit, or could potentially benefit me and help me get my spending under control. So let's check the article in question.
It mostly seems like common sense. "...track expenses and income for at least a month before setting a budget...How much money do I have or earn? How much do I want to save?" Basic shit like that. But then I get to this section:
This sounds fucking made up to me. And thankfully, they've provided a source to their claim that "research has repeatedly shown" that writing things down changes behavior. First mistake. What research is this?
Forbes, naturally, my #1 source for absolute dogshit fart-sniffing financial schlock. Forbes is the type of website that guy from high school who constantly posts on linkedin trawls daily for little articles like this that make him feel better about refusing to pay for a decent package for his employees' healthcare (I'm from the United States, a barbaric, conflict-ridden country in the throes of civil unrest, so obsessed with violence that its warlords prioritize weapons over universal medical coverage. I digress). Forbes constantly posts shit like this, and I constantly spend my time at leadership seminars debunking poor consultants who get paid to read these claims credulously. Look at this highlighted text. Does it make sense to you that simply writing your financial goals down would result in a 10x increase in your income? Because if it does, let me make you an offer on this sick ass bridge.
Thankfully, Forbes also makes the mistake of citing their sources. Let's check to see where this hyperlink goes:
SidSavara. I've never heard of this site, but the About section tells me that Sid is "a technology leader who empowers teams to grow into their best selves. He is a life-long learner enjoys developing software, leading teams in delivering mission critical projects, playing guitar and watching football and basketball."
That doesn't mean anything. What are his LinkedIn credentials? With the caveat that anyone can lie on Linkedin, Mr. Savara appears to be a Software Engineer. Which is fine! I'm glad software engineers exist! But Sid's got nothing in his professional history which suggests he knows shit about finance. So I'm already pretty skeptical of his website, which is increasingly looking like a personal fart-huffing blog.
The article itself repeats the credulous claim made in the Forbes story earlier, but this time, provides no link for the 3% story. Mr. Savara is smarter than his colleages at Forbes, it's much wiser to just make shit up.
HOWEVER. I am not the first person to have followed this rabbit hole. Because at the very top of this article, there is a disclaimer.
Uh oh!
Sid's been called out before, and in the follow up to this article, he reveals the truth.
You can guess where this is going.
So to go back to the VERY beginning of this post, both Pocket/Good Housekeeping and Forbes failed to do even the most basic of research, taking the wild claim that writing down your budget may increase your income by 10x on good faith and the word of a(n admittedly honest about his shortcomings) software engineer.
Why did I spend 30 minutes to make a tumblr post about this? Mostly to show off how smart I am, but also to remind folks of just how flimsy any claim on the internet can be. Click those links, follow those sources, and when the sources stop linking, ask why.
#long post#side note- this is one of the reasons i dont cover shit i dont like in my video essays. yall havent seen me angry.
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Well, it's about that time again...and I'm sorry, but I feel like my head's been replaced with a big rock that's too heavy for my neck. I did get some sleep, but it doesn't feel like enough, plus I woke up with...you know, all the usual problems I have when I wake up. Everything else is going swimmingly with the new work schedule, except sleep, though again, if you're in the habit of reading these, you know that's been happening for awhile already...it's not the schedule's fault I'm tired. In fact, the schedule is working exactly as planned! I had a moment where my alarm went off and I wasn't able to get out of bed for an hour and a half. I...I don't remember falling back asleep, I remember the alarm going off and thinking that I needed to get up to use the bathroom, I remember struggling to rise--and by the time I did, I saw the clock on the stove in the kitchen on my way back out, and I was surprised by it. But these are the sorts of things I expect out of myself, which is why the alarm is set early to begin with. I know I have sleep problems and that my doctor will not help me. I have to accept these symptoms in my life and simply plan around them better. But man...these symptoms fucking suck. I see characters in stories waking up feeling refreshed, feeling a little yawn and a stretch, maybe, doing so well first thing in the morning...and I wish that were me.
Have a great day, everyone! Love you! đđ
#workday sendoff#it's been several months and i have not gone back to that doctor#the last visit was the one where i told him these issues and that ''i'm afraid i'll die in my sleep bc of it'' and he prescribed hydroxyzin#and then for some reason my health insurance didn't cover that visit and i paid like $500 out of pocket for literally nothing#like! i sure as hell didn't go pick up any of that hydroxyzine or use any!#tranquilizing myself when i have a very real reason to be alert and like not be tranquilized seems like a terrible idea!#but i barely have enough energy for work and basic life tasks--i can't go shopping for a new doctor either#and if i were to put in all that work and i ended up with a doctor who's just as bad or worse...i might hit them#that's not like me at all but i could see myself getting THAT frustrated#so it's easier and probably safer for everyone including me that i just don't see doctors anymore#why waste such limited time and energy on the whole thing when i'm so sure nothing good will come of it?
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oh my god i might actually have to miss the IU concert i may cry
#just had an appt the doctor said she can't do my surgery before the end of may#and like.. if its in june.. idk how mobile i'm gonna be in time for the concert#my tickets are at the back to so steps...#like it seems like nothing in normal circumstances but there is actually a fair amount of walking to the venue and steps... so many steps#if i end up not being able to go i may just cry#and also if i end up not being able to go and not being able to sell the tickets so i'm out of pocket ÂŁ200 that'll be double crying for me
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Many years ago, I was wandering around downtown Ottawa with my best friend. We ran into a friend of his who offered us some hash (it sucked), then said there was a really good house party nearby if we wanted to go. We were like, yeah, sure. So that's how we ended up at some completely fucking random person's house.
I look around to ask if my friend knows anyone here and he's simply gone, as is his friend. And this isn't some red solo cup hangout; this is a party. There's people counting out pills on the kitchen counter. I am clearly neither as cool nor as drug-savvy as the kitchen people, so I back away and instead wander aimlessly into the living room, which seems to give off more of a chill vibe.
A bunch of people are seated in a circle on the floor. One of them is fiddling with a big wad of newspaper or something. A really cute grunge girl with piercings and tattoos scoots aside to make room for me, so I sit down.
"What's that," I ask her, gesturing at the newspaper wad.
She gets a really big smile on her face. You know the smile. It's the I'm About To Watch This Innocent Soul Get High As Fuck smile. "You've never smoked a tulip?"
"What's a tulip?" I ask.
"It's like if a joint was also a bong," she replies. "You gotta try it."
"Alright," I reply, a little uncertainly. This will not be my first encounter with weed. I am more comfortable with the janky newspaper bong than I am with whatever the fuck is going on in the kitchen. Besides, this girl is really cute and I would like to have a friend here now that my existing friend has turned into vapor or been transported to the Upside-Down or whatever the hell happened to him.
I watch as one person holds the newspaper joint-bong upright and holds a lighter over the top while another gets beneath it, tilting their head back to take a puff. Apparently smoking this Cheech & Chong monstrosity is a two-person job.
"Oh," I say, looking at the fist-sized knob at the top of the wonky newspaper joint. "Yeah, it does kinda look like a tulip." Grunge girl smiles at me.
I watch as the tulip is passed around the circle, along with the lighter, and hits are cooperatively taken. It reaches grunge girl, who takes a huge puff and holds it for an extended moment before exhaling an impressive blast of smoke. She smiles expectantly and holds the tulip up for me, preparing to spark the gigantic meteor of dank that makes up its tip. By this point I have completely forgotten about my missing friend. I only care about making a good impression on grunge girl. I tilt my head back and hit the tulip like a smokestack.
It is the following morning. I am sleeping between a couch and a wall. I'm not positive that this is the same house I was just in. My memories are gone. Someone is yelling at me: "dude! Dude! Wake up, dude!"
I sit up. My mouth tastes like cigarettes. I do not smoke cigarettes. "Wha," I ask the yelling man, who I am quite confident I have never met before in my life.
"We're going on a quest," he tells me, gravely. "You have to come with us."
I look around. Neither my friend nor his friend are anywhere in sight. I also do not see grunge girl anywhere. I shrug helplessly. "Okay."
We embark from this house. I learn that the destination of this quest is Tim Horton's. This is a relief to me, as coffee and a donut sounds really fucking good right now. Somehow, the route to Tim Horton's takes us past the Governor-General's residence, which everyone else in the group loudly heckles on the way past. I do not know what the Governor-General has done to raise their ire, nor do I particularly care. I trudge along with my hands in my pockets, pleased to note that I still have my wallet, phone, and keys. I fervently wish that I could remember anything about last night. Maybe I talked to grunge girl. Maybe she's why my mouth tastes like cigarettes. The tulip tasted nothing like cigarettes.
I am asked about my politics. I voice my frustrations with corporate corruption, the pay-to-win electoral system, the lack of transparency and accountability. This is met with great approval. The guy who was yelling at me claps me on the back. I get the impression that we became friends last night. I don't recognize his face. I do not know his name and he definitely does not know mine. I behave as though we're friends anyway. We are comrades on a quest.
By the time we make it to Tim Hortons, the gaggle of stoners I'm walking with have all run out of energy and/or attention span. People order snacks and break away in pairs or solo, to call for rides or plan the day's events or just vegetate and wait for the drugs to leave their systems. I look around and find that my nameless friend has also gone to the Upside-Down. As I wash the cigarette taste out of my mouth with coffee, I unsuccessfully try to remember whether I saw grunge girl smoking tobacco at any point. I remember nothing. That tulip was so fucking powerful that it instantly sent me a whole day forward in time.
Alone in the city, I try to call my best friend and get no answer. I walk to the nearest bus stop, catch a bus most of the way home, and call up my parents to ask for a ride back. They ask where my friend is. I tell them that I have no idea; we went to a house party and I don't remember anything else.
When they pick me up from the bus station, they ask me some very safe, nonspecific questions, and seem to relax when I describe what little I can remember. It isn't until years later that I realize they were probably terrified I'd gotten rufied or something, and were so relieved to learn otherwise that they didn't even bother chiding me for smoking myself unconscious in an effort to impress a strange woman. In any case, they were probably happy to find out that I did, in fact, like girls; I suspect they had been privately wondering whether I was gay.
After getting home, I finally manage to get my best friend to answer his phone. I discover that he tried the kitchen pills, spent most of the night crossing the entire city on foot, and crashed at his cousin's house. He sounds like shit. I tell him that he should have tried the tulip, instead. He fervently agrees with me.
I never see grunge girl again.
That's okay, though. She got to see a clueless stranger get fucked the entire way up on some ungodly strain of giga-weed, and I got smiled at by a cute girl, and then I got to go on a quest. Wherever grunge girl is, I hope she's happy. I hope she's smoking the fattest fucking blunt and smiling as some kid passes out behind a couch.
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forever fighting the people who watched wkm for the first time, identified that Damien looked a lot like Dark, and instantly concluded he was "pretending to be good"
#LIKE NO!!!!! >:[[[#Damien my beloved. he just wanted his friends to be happy :(((((#ik we dont get a whole bunch of time with him but like he never witholds information or is aggressive or ANYTHING#the most upset we see damien get is when he has an argument with William over how much he WANTS him to CARE that his friend died!#And hes totally right! yes william has super valid reasons but we and damien dont KNOW that#Like Damien Will and The Actor have been bffs for years and suddenly one of them drops dead and the other doesnt even seem to CARE???#I LOVE DAMIEN SO MUCH HE DID NOTHING WRONG !!!!#if we're gonna call Dark amoral also which. we dont really know if he is? then its. its Celine BFNSVSJSVS#Celine has very questionable morals in wkm. very relatable morals! but not exactly righteous#Shes just tryna take care of her brother and i get that but she fucks people over in the process#she walks in the house and immediately has control of the situation. she tells people what they wanna hear and then singles you out#and then chastises Damien for wanting to help her#I love celine btw i think shes so interesting but like. damien is a good person and Celine is a moral debate#when in âDAMIENâ Celine's pocket dimension is cracking the mirror she tells him that if he goes through with the first choice hes-#ever made (life IS ours to choose) that he will be changed forever but Damien is OKAY with that#Damien is OKAY with being a bad person from now on if it means Celine gets to rest#I LOVE DAMIEN WKM !!!!!!#Is Celine still asleep?#if White Suit Dark is a DIFFERENT universe Dark could he possibly be Celine piloting the body??? I DONT KNOW#the fact that mark has never tried to give us Celine-Dark makes me so rabid like PLEASE#although#Dark's whole thing is being cryptic as shit and i think Celine-Dark would just Have A Gun#wkm#this is a nothing post. sorry BFKSVDKSDB#beverly says stuff#who killed markiplier#damien wkm#celine wkm
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Hi! I like your Deadpool as your boyfriend post, can you please do Logan as your boyfriend next? đ
logan howlett (wolvie)
âŚas your boyfriend!
description: wolverine, logan howlett as your boyfriend!
pairing: wolvie x you!
|an: my man my man he love me!
- heâs so big and so tall and scruffy and so mmm. thatâs your man! and u want everyone to know it
- like i keep mentioning, he is manhandling tf out of you no matter ur size, all the time!
- he thinks itâs soo cute that he can pick you up in his arms with ease and he loves to hear squeal out a âlogaaan!â as he throws you on to the bed
- heâs so standoffish and kinda shy when youâre first around each other bc heâs sooo into you and he thinks youâre so cute
- but once he founds out you dig him too ooo girl
- he grows such a big soft spot for you, youâre the only person that ever sees him vulnerable. and heâs such a silly goose.
- he becomes so much more himself, heâs messing with you all the time throwing teasing insults with a smirk on his face just to watch you get all riled up from him.
- heâs also flirting with you 24/7 girl heâs hot and he knows it. sometimes heâs rather crude but you like it. so itâs okay!
ânice shorts you got there little ladyâ he said with a teasing tone as you walked past him into the kitchen to grab a quick snack.
âgod theyâre not even that short!â youâd said, pulling them down a bit. they were that short. but hey, they did the job.
and by job, you mean drive logan crazy.
- but once you become his omgâŚ
- youâre his. nobody is touching you and heâll make sure of that. and itâs pretty hot.
- if anybody even has body language that even slightly seems like theyâre into you oh girlâŚ.
- theyâre becoming a new scratching post!
- not only are you his, but heâs yours. super loyal! and if he canât get someone off his back, you bet your ass you will!
- you always feel so protected and he always makes you feel so protected because you are! he would do anything for you and to make sure his lover is safe and sound.
- heâs so obsessed with you and heâs not afraid to hide it, heâs not overly affectionate but he is in fact a cuddle monster.
- heâll hold your hand, or shove a hand in your back pocket, or lend you his jacket to let people know your his, but he saves the good stuff for back at home.
- youâre also his drinking buddy, he isnât a fan of the tequila like you are, heâll stick to his whiskey. but he always takes care of you after a night out and makes sure youâre snug as a bug!
- he is the biggest dom ever omg itâs so hard to get him to sub out for you but when he finally does itâs the best night of your life.
- all the noises he makes that youâve never heard from him are music to your ears.
- a MUNCH. need i say more? thats why he got that damn beard!
- oh and we know those abs are like a pack of buttered up hawaiian rolls and you wanna go for a ride!
- of course heâll let you! anything for his babygirl, lick em, touch em, fuck em, anything his baby wants. as long as he gets to watch and as long as you feel good.
- he also loves the praise as you ride yourself out on his abs.
- he loves attention and praise, especially when itâs about his figure.
you and logan lie in bed, his figure cradling yours as he slowly felt you slot your head between his craned arm.
âyour muscles are so big babe. give me a lil flex.â you stated, holding on to outside of his forearm with your neck between the underside his forearm and bicep.
âyouâre crazy bub.â he states, chuckling and lightly flexing his arm, not enough to hurt you but enough to satisfy you and make you giggle as his big muscles squished your cheeks together.
- youâre always touching his muscles, theyâre so hot. and hey, he doesnât work out like that for nothing! he loves it when you cling to his biceps, or run your fingers down his chiseled back.
#deadpool wolverine#wolverine#hugh jackman#wolverine x reader#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#deadpool#hugh jackman x reader#wolverine x you
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firewood
masterlist ko-fi ao3
Lumberjack! Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: When you decide to chop wood in your backyard, your hot neighbor, who happens to be a lumberjack, offers you some help.
Word count: 4.8K
Warnings: +18âď¸smut, hot neighbor bucky is a fucking warning, kinda size kink, rough sex, protected sex, dirty talk, pet names
Author's note: this is one of my favorite works, so I hope everyone who hasn't read it before will like it too (it's hard to not fall for lumberjack Bucky, tbhđ¤ˇââď¸)
âHey, do you need help?â You stopped what you were doing. You breathed heavily, your arms ached, and you were already sweating. The man, your neighbor, whom you already saw a few times when you arrived home, was standing before you with his hands in his jeans pockets.Â
He was attractive. Really handsome. Probably 6 feet tall, with broad shoulders and visibly a lot of muscles under the clothes. Yeah, that red henley left nothing for your imagination. His dark hair was put in a low bun, and he had a little stubble on his face. But you mostly noticed his bright blue eyes, which looked straight at you very attentively.
âSorry, what?â You said as you wiped sweat from your forehead with the sleeve of your shirt.Â
âI asked if you needed help. Sorry, but it seems like you have some troubles.â He smiled at you almost shyly, and you couldnât even make yourself mad at his words.Â
âUm, Itâs my first time doing it.â You awkwardly smiled back, finally putting a big ax to the ground. âBut I need wood for my fireplace, so I have to work with what I have.â
âI see⌠but donât you have a boyfriend or a husband? I mean, itâs not really easy to do for a woman, and you seem pretty... petite for this?â It almost sounded like a question. âI wanted to say that I can help you if you allow me, because that thing might be really dangerous if you donât know how to work with it, and I'm a lumberjack, so... itâs not a problem for me.â He awkwardly started to rub his neck. âIâm Bucky, by the way.â
âFor a woman?â You playfully arched an eyebrow. âSo you think that only men can do this?â You saw how his eyes widened, and you tried to hold your laughter.
âNo, no! Thatâs not what I meant!â He lifted both hands in the air. âItâs just gonna take you forever to do, and as I said before, Itâs not the safest work. And since this is my job, I couldâve helped you. As a neighbor, you know?âÂ
âRelax, Iâm just joking.â You softly smiled at him. âNice to finally meet you. Iâm Y/N.â You reached out your hand. Buckyâs face relaxed, but then his lips curled into a mischievous smile.
âI like you.â He said, as he shook your hand. His grip was tight, and you felt that he really did a lot of physical work with his hands.
âOh⌠thanks?âÂ
âSoo, do you need help?â He asked again.
âUm, honestly, I donât know. I canât just let you work for me for free. Can I pay you?â
âDoll, I have enough money, and I donât need yours. I donât think that you need tons of firewood, so it would be easy work for me.â
âOkay, but maybe I can give you food? Pastry? I really love to cook, and everyone said that Iâm good at it.â You nervously played with your sleeve while Bucky was staring directly at you.
âDeal. I would honestly die for homemade food, âcause last time I ate it was at my maâs and I really miss it. But you donât have to do this, okay?â
âAnd you donât have to help me.â You shot back.
Buckyâs smile grew wider, and he started shaking his head. âYou have some temper, doll... Friday is okay?âÂ
âYeah, totally, any time youâre free.âÂ
âDeal. I should probably go, and you better start training to cook food for me. I am really picky, and you insisted on paying me with it.â He said and started to walk back.
âOh, shut up.â You laughed. âI know what Iâm doing; donât underestimate me!âÂ
âFine. See ya, doll.â Bucky waved at you with the biggest smile on his face and finally walked away.
Well, itâs gonna be interesting.Â
For the next almost two months, Bucky had been âworkingâ for you, and you paid him with your food every single time because you couldnât leave that man starving after he just got home from work and then willingly helped you.Â
You two got closer. Bucky was a really good man; you found out it while you were sitting in your backyard looking at how his muscles were moving with every swing of the ax. He was right that it wasn't a big deal for himâthe job that you wouldâve been doing for several hours he did in twenty or thirty minutes.Â
The conversation with Bucky was easy, he was a pretty reserved person, but he still told you everything about his job and his friends and asked you things about your life. It was hard not to fall for him. Especially when he gave you this boyish smile every time it was time to say goodbye or when you brought him your homemade food.Â
Usually he comes to your house every Friday after work around 6 p.m., but today it was already 8 and he still didnât show up. There was no light in his windows either, so you became really worried that something serious had happened.Â
You were nervously sitting on the bar stool in your kitchen while your dinner was getting cold on the stove. You really had no appetite. What if he got injured from his dangerous work? Or maybe you were just overreacting and he went on a date with someone? You really had no reason to be worried that much because Bucky probably didnât even think of you as a close friend, and you were just a too dramatic person with attachment issues.Â
The light knock on the door scared you a little bit, but you still jumped out of your seat to open it.Â
Bucky was standing there, visually perfectly fine and without any injuries, and you sighed with relief.Â
âBucky, oh my god, hi. Are you okay? I was really worried about you, and I donât even have your phone number to text or call.â You mumbled as your eyes studied his face.Â
âHey, doll.â Bucky softly smiled at you, but it was obvious that he wasnât really in the mood. âIâm fine. Just a shitty day at work. My boss went fucking crazy over nothing, and it was just a mess.â He ran a hand through his long hair. âBut I have to do your firewood, so I'll go change and be back in a few minutes, âkay?â
He started to go back, but you caught him by his wrist. âNo, Buck, wait. You donât have to do it right now, really. I have enough wood, and youâre really exhausted. Come in; I have fresh lasagna and chocolate muffins.âÂ
âUmâare you sure? I mean, you donât have to.â He mumbled. You noticed that you were still holding his wrist, but decided to leave it that way.Â
âDonât worry, I have enough food, and you look like you really need it. Câmon, donât you want to eat something homemade and still hot after a bad day at work?â You gave him your best smile, and it was obvious in his eyes that he already agreed to your idea.Â
âOkay, we can do that. Honestly, I feel like Iâm able to eat a fucking elephant.âÂ
You both shared a laugh before you almost dragged him into your house and closed the door. Only at that moment did you realize that even though you gave Bucky a lot of food, he had never been at your place before. For some reason, you felt really excited to feed him and spend some time together.Â
âSit here while Iâm heating the food.â Bucky obediently took a seat, looking with a soft smile at how you were moving around in your little kitchen.
You looked so domestic and soft in the warm yellow lights of the room in the cute pink cotton dress with little flowers all over it. The concentration was written all over your face as you tried to perfectly set plates and cutlery on the table and then put steaming lasagna on it.
âFuck, it smells so good; youâre going to kill me, doll.â He wasnât able to handle the amazing smell of food right in front of him.Â
Your cheeks heated, and you waved your hand at him. âItâs just lasagna, Buck; donât be dramatic.â You took a place near him, and you both started to eat your food.Â
âIâm not being dramatic. I already told you that, besides my ma, you have the best food in the world. I couldâve eaten it three times a day for the rest of my life and not gotten tired of it.â He took another big bite, moaning as the taste filled his mouth.Â
âYouâre making me blush. No one ever told me this.â
âThatâs my intention, doll. What, none of your boyfriends complemented your skills? Because I wouldâve put the ring on that finger way too fast.â You looked at each other for a few seconds until you noticed that he had already finished his portion.Â
âDo you want more?â Ignoring his previous words, you stood up and took his plate to give him some extra food. The dress gently flew around your thighs, drawing Buckyâs attention to your legs when you turned around. âAnyway, what happened at work? You mentioned your boss.â
âUgh, Pierce is a fucking dipshit. Everyone there hates him, but he has too much money, so we canât do anything. Me and Steve have really been on bad terms with him since the first day. He tries to tell us how to do our work, but his head is so far up in his ass that he canât even listen to what we say.â You returned to your place and put a plate in front of Bucky again. The frown took place on his face while he was talking about Pierce, so you put a hand on top of his without even thinking.Â
âHe sounds like a total asshole. Iâm sorry that you guys have to work for him.â Buckyâs face softened at your action. He flipped his hand so he could interlace your fingers, and you felt the warm feeling all over your body.Â
You both definitely felt something, but you still stayed silent, enjoying the connection. It was obvious that you had feelings for each other. It was just hard to admit out loud, and, honestly, Bucky was so scared that you might think that he did all of this just to get into your pants. Which is not true. Well, he doesnât mind, but itâs not his only intention. He wants to treat you right and ask you out on a date.Â
Back then, he felt so bold and offered to help you with the firewood with the hope of getting to know you better. Steve and Sam obviously knew about his new âworkâ and teased him about it all day long. Unfortunately, he still didnât find the right moment to ask you out. Those times when he came to you on Friday evenings and you were watching him work in your cute dresses or little pajamas were Buckyâs favorites. You looked so soft, cozy, and domestic that he wished to see you like this every day.Â
After the last piece of a chocolate muffin disappeared in Buckyâs mouth and he let out a moan of satisfaction, he sat in your kitchen with closed eyes and a smile on his face.Â
âIf I had to have a shitty day just to get this type of meal at the end of the day, Iâm ready for it.â
âBucky!â You laughed at his dramatic words. âYou donât have to have a bad day. I can feed you just because.âÂ
âWell, you said it yourself. Now you wonât get rid of me.â You both laughed. Then he suddenly got up and started to put plates in the sink. âYou sit, and Iâll wash the dishes.â
âNo, Bucky, thatâs not how it works!â You got up and caught him by his bicep. Really hard and big bicep.Â
âYes, it is. Youâre cooking, then Iâm cleaning.â He tried to get away from your grip to turn on the water, but you only held him stronger, now with both of your hands on his arms.Â
âBucky.â When he was standing so close to you, you realized your size and height difference, and it made you shiver. You turned your head up to look him in the eyes. âYou are my guest; you shouldnât do this.â
âMy mother taught me to always help women because they are not our maids.â He stepped a little bit closer. âBut if youâre saying this only because you want me to leave, I can do that.â
You were both looking at each other, and what you saw in his eyes made you weak in the knees.Â
âNo, no, I donât want you to leave.â Your hands moved higher and fell on the sides of his neck. It was everything Bucky needed to finally kiss you.
Two large and rough hands took your face to bring your lips closer to Buckyâs height. He was gentle yet so passionate, and he slowly moved his lips against yours. It was mind-blowing how desperately you wanted him to devour you, to destroy you. While your hands were discovering his broad chest and shoulders, you felt that your body was suddenly lifted in the air and then placed on the kitchen counter.
Now that Bucky didnât have to lean over to your height, it was easier to kiss you properly. His tongue brushed over your lips to ask for entrance, which you happily gave. Bucky felt too addicted to your taste, your smell, and the feeling of your smaller body against him. It drove him crazy.
âI've wanted to do that since the day I looked at you.â The hands on your hips tightened and moved you closer to his body. âYou look so pretty, God.â Buckyâs eyes are running all over your face, trying to memorize every little thing.
âBucky...â You dragged him closer again, desperate to connect your lips. His large hands wandered all over your body, slightly pulling up your dress and then moving higher and cupping your breasts in them. âI thought you were tired.â His large erection was obvious through his jeans, and you wanted to tease him.Â
âIâm never tired for you, doll.â He mumbled against your lips. âI couldâve fucked you right on this table, but Iâll leave it for the next time. Whereâs your bedroom?â You didnât miss the promise to fuck you again, and your body felt ecstatic just because of this thought.
âUp the stairs, second door from the right.âÂ
Bucky didnât say a word before your world suddenly moved, and you ended up hanging from his shoulder. Your bare ass was probably right near his face, and you couldnât help but blush.Â
He stormed up the stairs with one hand on your thigh, as if your weight on his shoulder was nothing, and then walked into your main bedroom.Â
You were thrown onto your bed, and Bucky stayed in front of you for a few seconds to remember this picture. Swollen lips, eyes full of need, a short dress that pulled up and showed a glimpsing of your white underwear. Yes, you were perfect, and only for him.Â
âCome here, Buck.â You raised your hands in his direction, and he obediently climbed on top of you with a smirk on his face.
He sat between your legs, moving his hands up and down the soft skin of your thighs.
âSuch a pretty doll for me, in this cute lilâ dress, mm?â His body was hovering over you, and when he found a zipper on the back of your dress, you ended up lying under him only in your white lingerie set in less than a minute.Â
The pair of the most beautiful blue eyes devoured your naked body as soon as the piece of clothing was removed, and you had never seen a man look at you this way. Like you were the most beautiful, delicious, and priceless thing in the world. Buckyâs hands gently touched your body from the shoulders to your legs, and you swear that you heard a moan while he was doing it.
âSweetheart.â He mumbled and leaned to gently kiss the soft skin of your belly, moving with little kisses higher until he reached your lips. âYouâre killing me, you know that?âÂ
âShut up and kiss me, Barnes.â It was impossible to think straight when his pretty face was right in front of you and his muscular body pushed you deeper into the mattress of your bed. He kissed you as you asked, but it didnât last long before he pulled away with a grin on his face. You gently brushed his brown locks out of his face and tucked them behind his ears.
âSo bossy, dollface... Do I have to fuck this attitude out of you?â
âMmm, undress, and weâll see what you are capable of.â You shot back at him, and he just moved away with a smirk on his face.Â
In a few seconds, a red henley was thrown somewhere on the floor, and you were face to face with a body that was probably made by the Greek gods. Muscles on muscles, with tanned skin and freckles from the work under the sun. Now you wanted to climb him like a fucking tree.
âLike what you see?â His smirk became wider as he saw the look on your face: slightly parted lips and darkened eyes that were looking at him up and down. Bucky's hands went straight to the belt of his pants, and with the last movement, he was standing in your almost dark bedroom completely naked.Â
You almost choked on your saliva when he pulled down his pants and boxers at the same time. He was thick and long, with an angry red head.Â
âNo way this is gonna fit meâŚâ
âIt will, doll. Iâll take care of it. I bet this pretty little pussy will just suck me in.âÂ
It was over for you. You knew that. A handsome, respectful man with a perfect body and dirty mouth? Yes, he can do whatever he wants with you.
He returned to your bed, sitting in between your spread legs. He didnât waste any more time when he reached behind your back and unbuttoned your bra. Bucky stood on his knees so perfectly that his dick landed on your covered pussy, and it made you both moan out loud.Â
âLook at this, doll. âM gonna destroy her.â His hips slightly moved, and because your panties were soaking wet, it was so smooth and perfect. âCan you imagine that? I will stretch you out so well that Iâll ruin any other men for you. Make youâand herâ mine.â He reached with one of his hands to your tits and squeezed your nipple between his fingers, while the other one was keeping your legs apart so he would be able to move his hips.Â
You tried to close your legs by instinct. The tip of his cock again and again brushed right on your clit, and the slight pain from your nipple made you desperately moan and clench your bedsheets.
âAre you going to cum, pretty girl? Im not even inside of you, and youâre already a fucking mess.â Buckyâs rough voice was so sexy that it made you even wetter, if that was possible. He saw that you were close: by the way your breathing changed and how your eyes rolled back in your head. âC'mon, just let it go. Soak those panties even more.â His movements on your most sensitive parts of the body didnât stop, and it threw you over the edge.
You were squeezing around nothing, and the most inappropriate and dirty moan escaped your mouth. It was something that you'd never experienced before, and it was so intense that you needed some time to get over it.
âGood girl.â Bucky grabbed your face and connected your lips, giving you another wet and sloppy kiss.Â
Then, without hesitation, Buckyâs hands took off the last piece of your clothing, leaving you completely naked for his hungry eyes. He stared at your body up and down for a few seconds and then closed his eyes to take a deep breath and calm himself down.Â
âBucky, please, I need you so much.â You almost cried, trying to grab him and put his body on top of yours, but Bucky was much larger than you, so it was almost impossible.
Bucky finally calmed down a little bit, and he interlaced his right hand with your left, pinning it above your head. His body softly landed on you, and skin-to-skin contact sent shivers down your spine. He was now looking you right in the eyes, and judging by his facial expressions, he either wanted to fuck you lifeless or cuddle and hold you closely.
âTell me if itâs too much, okay?â Buckyâs soft side came out again, and you slightly nodded, giving him permission to continue. The little silver square appeared in his hand out of nowhere before he ripped the package with his teeth and put a condom on.Â
You honestly tried to hold back the little bit of disappointment you felt when he decided to use protection. It was smart. You werenât longtime partners, it was a question of your safety. But the tiny voice in your head told you that you wouldâve let him fuck you without it. To feel his perfect dâ
Your thoughts were cut off with a deep chuckle. âYou look like youâre sad that I put on a condom, doll.â You swear that his eyes darkened when you stayed silent. âIf you want it later, Iâll fuck you raw, âkay? But now neither of us can think straight.âÂ
âAre you a perfect man?â You laughed.
âI donât know, letâs find out.â Your smile faded as soon as you felt the head of his dick at your entrance.
You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, so when Bucky started teasing you again, rubbing you up and down to cover himself in your slick, you nearly lost it.Â
âBucky, please.â You whine, grabbing the side of his torso with your free hand. âDonât tease me, please, I canâtââÂ
Your words died as Bucky finally pushed inside of you. Your head fell deeper into your soft bed, and Buckyâs body tensed on top of you, trying to hold back a deep moan.Â
It was overwhelming. He stretched you out so deliciously that you felt pain and inexplicable pleasure. No one ever made you feel this wayâlike you were on cloud nine and the man on top of you didnât even actually fuck you yet.Â
âYouâre squeezing me so hard that I might cum like a teenagerâfuck!â He groaned, squeezing your hand harder. âRelax, baby, Iâll take care of you.â
You tried to relax as much as you could with a dick buried deep inside of you, and Bucky was finally able to move.
Well, if it felt good earlier, then the first movement of his hips probably sent you right to heaven. Bucky cupped your face with his left hand, locking your eyes together, when he started thrusting at a slow pace.Â
âSo pretty for me, doll. You feel my cock in your stomach, huh?â Buckyâs lips almost touched yours when he talked, but it felt like he was too far away from you. âGood girl, take me so well. Knew that this pussy would be my death.âÂ
âMore... harder, please, fuck me harder.â You spoke in between moans, gazing intently at Bucky's pretty face.
He started fucking you harder. Your bed was slamming your wall, but it didnât bother you as much as the fact that he was hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You were a fucking whining mess under him, with a slightly open mouth and a drunk-looking face.
âSuck it like a good girl you are.â His thumb slipped into your mouth, and you moaned, doing as he said. âYour pussy is already sucking the shit out of me. Are you going to cum, baby? Going to make a mess on my cock while I fuck you? Imagine if I fucked you raw and filled you up with my load. I bet youâd like that.â The finger went deeper into your mouth, making you gag. You nodded your head as much as you could at Buckyâs words because you were already ready to cum.
âGive it to me, baby.â Bucky growled, sucking on your neck. His hips slammed into yours, making the nastiest noise, but it turned you on even more. A finger slipped out of your mouth, and Buckyâs face was in front of you again. âFuuuck, Iâm gonna cum.â
âM-m, B-bucky! Don't stop, plâ ahhh!â The wave of the best orgasm of your fucking life washed over you. You swear the stars started dancing behind your closed eyes as you endlessly squeezed Buckyâs cock and his body.
The way you were moaning, how your eyes rolled back, and how your whole body trembled pushed Bucky over the edge. A few last movements in your soaking wet pussy and he came, feeling almost lifeless, as if you had sucked the whole energy out of him.
He let go of your hand, which this whole time he held above your head, and cupped your face with both of his hands, kissing away the tears you didnât even notice.
âY/N? Baby? Are you okay?â He whispered and moved your head a little bit so your eyes were directed at him. You looked like you were high or really drunk, but he couldnât argue with the fact that you were the prettiest woman on earth.
âIâ itâs like I don't feel my body anymore.â You lazily mumbled and closed your eyes. âNo one ever fucked me like this.âÂ
âGlad to hear that, doll.â Bucky leaned closer and kissed your soft lips with more delicacy and tenderness. âDo you need anything? Food, water, bath?â
âNo⌠Can you just hug me and stay here for the night?â You asked, now afraid that he would leave since he got what he wanted.
âSure, just let me get rid of this thing, and Iâll still get you some water.â He kissed you on the forehead before carefully untangling his body from yours. You hissed at the new empty and a little bit aching feeling inside of you. âIâm sorry, baby.âÂ
Bucky threw a condom in the basket under your table and, putting on only his boxers, came down to the kitchen to get you a bottle of water. But when he came back, he saw that you had already fallen asleep.
You looked so cuteâstill naked, with a peaceful expression on your face, laying in the middle of your messy bed. He thought about whether he should disturb your sleep or not, but you asked him to stay, right? Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, but then came closer to you, placed the bottle on the nightstand, and carefully scooped you into his hands, pushing away the covers. He put you back down, and then you opened your eyes.Â
âCâmereâŚâ You mumbled, still sleepy, and grabbed his hand.
Bucky quietly chuckled and got under the cover, hugging you from the back. You happily sighed before drifting back to sleep. Bucky kissed you in the hair, hugged you harder, and fell to sleep with you in his arms.
You woke up a little bit disoriented, trying to figure out what happened last night.Â
The bed beside you was empty, but the aching feeling between your legs proved that it wasnât a dream. You, in fact, fucked your hot lumberjack neighbor. But where did he go?
You found some random oversized t-shirt and walked down the stairs. Everything was silent; your kitchen was empty but crystal clean. Did Bucky just leave?Â
Wait a minute.Â
Yesterday there was a mess from your cooking and dinner with Bucky.
Now the room was almost shining.Â
You looked around in confusion until you noticed a piece of paper on the table.Â
All of your bad thoughts disappeared as soon as you read it, and you felt butterflies go crazy in your stomach.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky fanfic#bucky x reader#bucky x you#james bucky barnes#marvel smut#james buchanan barnes#marvel#marvel x reader#marvel fanfiction#bucky barnes x you#james bucky buchanan barnes#lumberjack! bucky barnes
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Bad Boys Don't Buy Flowers
CEO!BuckyBarnes x Female!Florist!Reader AU
read Steve's story here
summary: Bucky would have never thought, heâd be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...
a/n: I should be working instead of writing long ass billionaire love stores, but here we are: you and me both... happy it happened and already regretting the tasks we neglected because of it (please enjoy this wholesome piece of imagination - I know it's long, but I hope youâll give it a try nonetheless)
word count: 16.4k đŹ
warnings: play boy behavior/talk, a reader that knows what she wants, Bucky falls first (and hard đ¤), mentions of war, injuries, and death (all not applying to Bucky for once), just so much fluff, questioning life choices (angst with happy ending!), smut (this is freaking love making okay?!?!? praise and confessions, dry humping, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, touch starved Bucky - in a wayâŚ, sensual and beautiful, protected p in v, cock warming, and aftercare) !MINORS DNI!
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"Did you place the order?" Bucky leaned back in Steve's office chair and watched as his friend paced the space with a hand in his pocket.Â
Steve was grinning like an idiot when the answer on the other side satisfied him and Bucky felt a tiny little spark in his chest at the sight. He'd watched his best friend go through life with a default tension in his shoulders for what seemed like forever. All until he found Bambi - a sweet and incredibly clumsy woman who was formerly his maid. But they found each other and Steve had been a happier man ever since.
Bucky was happy for him, too. He was a lot more fun to be around ever since, but it did remind him that Bucky himself had yet to find the one that would make his heart beat faster.Â
It was a ridiculous idea, of course. Bucky was never the one for relationships or long-term commitment in the romantic department. To be honest, he wasn't even sure he was capable of love - not that he needed it, anyway. He had no problem with having a new plaything every other night. It was fun and kept him on his toes.Â
"Perfect. Okay. Thanks, Sharon." Bucky sat up straighter in the chair. "Yeah, next Friday. See you later."
Steve sighed as he slumped on the sofa across the room. He watched the ceiling, looking like a love-drunk schoolboy, even though he tried so hard to conceal it. Bucky knew him too well.
"Dinner is booked.â
âYouâre really doing it huh?"
âYup." There was no doubt in Steveâs answer, but rather a special kind of excitement Bucky rarely felt.
The brunette just nodded as he looked to the ground, the chair swaying as he pushed his knees from one side to the other.Â
Steve just grinned in response. "So when are you gonna let me help you find the one?"
Bucky perked up, amusement seeping through his gaze when he answered his best friend. âMe? No no. Iâm fine."
Steve shrugged. âYou know, thatâs exactly what I said about a year ago."
"No offense, Stevie, but you and I were in vastly different sex universes back then. Iâm getting laid - Iâm aaaaall good." He leaned back with a smug grin and Steve just frowned in response. "You can be as happy as you want but donât start trying to get everyone on the girlfriend train. Thatâs a Rogers and Wilson thing. I donât need that type of commitment."
Steve remained silent as he watched Bucky stand up and head for the door, a thoughtful look on his face when his friend passed him.Â
âLook, Iâm happy for you, truly. I just donât see myself in that type of life.â Buckyâs hand squeezed Steveâs shoulder just as the blonde cocked his head to the side.Â
âNever?â
Bucky winked at him. âYou know I like to live in the present. But speaking of the future... Youâre still up for tomorrow night, right?â
âTomorrow night?"
"Ironbar."
Steveâs eyes widened. âShit. No, I promised Bambi we'd-" Steve stopped when he saw Bucky's eyebrows raise in amusement. â...next time."
Bucky sighed in defeat. "Tell her to leave some Steve time for the rest of us, will ya?" And with a laugh of Steveâs, he shut the office door, walked past Sharonâs desk, then Natashaâs, and then into his own office.
â â â
The clock hand barely struck 8am when another set of files hit Buckyâs desk.Â
Bucky huffed as he watched Natasha stand before him with an amused smile, her hands on her hips that were hugged by a tight pencil skirt. âLooking for something, Boss?â
âNo...â
âSomething like... the invitation to that business dinner on Thursday?â She mused and carefully pulled a piece of paper from the stack between them.Â
Bucky snatched it with a glare. âIt would be much more helpful if you sorted this chaos rather than stand here and be a smartass.â He looked at the invite, the familiar company logo printed in the top right corner. âAnd why are people even sending paper invites anymore? Weâre a security firm,â he sat the paper down and tapped on it with his index finger, âjust shows how desperately they need consulting.âÂ
âDonât blame me for it.â Nat threw her hands in the air. âAnd stop complaining. I know youâre the cyber guy but a couple papers shouldnât faze you. Iâve got more important things to do that donât particularly fall in your area of expertise.â She turned to leave but Bucky stopped her before her heels could reach the threshold.Â
âAre you saying your job is harder than mine?â Bucky watched the mess on his desk, then the computer screen with his calendar and the impending meeting with those jackasses from Hydra Enterprises. There was no way sorting a couple of papers could be worse than Alexander Pierce and his nephew Brock Rumlow. One of them barely knew how to send an E-mail and the other kept subtly asking if it was legal to install cameras in the ladyâs room.Â
âIf youâre referring to your inability to sort a couple files, then yes, I assume you wouldnât last a day with my tasks.âÂ
âNow thatâs bullshit.â
âIs it now?â She raised her left eyebrow with a half-smirk. âI want to see you deal with idiots when scheduling appointments and keeping everyoneâs day structured while also organizing the annual fundraiser.â
Bucky huffed, leaning back and crossing his arms before his chest. He averted his eyes from his assistant and the stupid pile of paperwork in front of him. He really did not want to sort through all of that.Â
âCall me old fashioned but I believe assistants should sort files.â He shrugged, knowing Natasha wouldnât let him off that easily. They had been working together for years, he respected her as much as his other friends. And presenting the fierce redhead with a challenge to get out of some annoying tasks was something he would gladly do.Â
âIâll tell you what. I will sort your papers in my assistant duties.â She made a mockery curtsy - as much as her skirt allowed - and then lifted her finger before the smile could spread on Buckyâs face. âIf... you plan the charity event.â
Bucky was shocked. He didnât expect her to play dirty - well to be fair, it wouldnât be Nat if she werenât teasing a little bit - but still. âYou think you can handle that, boss?âÂ
Bucky closed his mouth and eyed her suspiciously. It couldnât be that hard to do. And certainly would be a nice distraction from the impending meeting of doom as well as the following consulting sessions. He let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling.Â
Was he really going to trade some papers for a whole Gala? That paperwork really sucked. He loved how easily he could wash through files on his computer. Sadly, his programs didnât help much in the analog part of the job.Â
âAre you backing down, Barnes?â Natâs teasing voice rang through to him and he snapped back into his attitude.Â
âNever.â He stood up, fixed his suit, and then reached his hand toward her. Natasha shook it with an evil smirk. âAlways a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Romanoff.â
And with that, she took the papers from Buckyâs desk and carried them out of his office with a triumphant smile.Â
â â â
It wasnât long before Bucky regretted his decision.Â
What had he been thinking? A Fundraiser... a fucking fundraiser. Bucky couldnât care less about them.Â
Okay, that wasnât true. He deemed charity to be a very important part of society... and economy. There were times in his life when he was close to needing their help as well. And Bucky swore heâd never let that aspect of his story slip from his mind ever. Still, it didnât prevent him from living lavishly and making use of the things he had access to now.Â
Usually, the organization of the charity gala was stuck on Nat and Sharon. Mainly because they had always done an amazing job. The tabloids had only positive things to write about it and always pushed the number before Christmas even higher. Which urged Bucky even more to do just as good of a job this year.Â
There was just one problem.Â
He had no idea how to organize events this size. Bucky could program a software from scratch, hack into classified state files on a bad day. Hell, he could track every personâs phone in New York in his sleep. But he never expected to be overwhelmed by a couple invites and color palettes.Â
Though as little as he knew about his new task, he liked a challenge, and he would most certainly not give Natasha the satisfaction of asking her for a checklist.Â
So, the internet had to do for now. Heâd found a blog by a highly motivated suburban mom, that led with step-by-step instructions on how to plan the perfect event. It might not have been on the scale of what Bucky had to do, but considering his lack of knowledge on the topic, he figured this would do until Natasha snatched the task away from him again.Â
The first thing on the list was to find a date and venue. But since the gala of Shield Protection Services was always held at the same venue, Bucky figured they had booked it indefinitely for the event.Â
Next was to find the perfect florist that âis able to put your vision into extravagant floral arrangementsâ. Yeah... that was another problem.Â
Bucky didnât buy flowers. The only women he deemed important enough in his life to get them were his sister and his mother. And well, both of them had passed away. So, picking the right flowers hadnât been a problem until now. His mother and sister were always enchanted by the bouquets they received when Bucky was younger. Heâd steal them from their neighborâs garden. But since he could grow a beard, Bucky hadnât even touched flowers anymore.
Well, that had to change now.Â
Bucky stepped into the elevator just to be greeted by big round eyes and an even wider smile. âPaying Steve a visit?â Bucky teased with a half smile as he hugged Bambi and then faced the doors.Â
âIâm actually meeting Natasha for lunch,â she shifted from one foot to the other, âI didnât realize she was already at the restaurant... so thatâs where Iâm headed now.â
Bucky chuckled at her slight awkwardness. But it wouldnât be Bambi if she wouldnât miss such a detail.Â
âDo you need a ride? My driverâs waiting for me anyway.â
âTha- yes that would be nice, thank you.â
Bucky just nodded and gestured for her to lead the way when they reached the ground floor.Â
âWhere are you going?â Bambi asked as he stared out the window of the car. They had told the driver where they needed to go. And Since Bucky had no particular destination in mind, it worked out well.Â
âIâm on the hunt for the perfect flower shop to cater to my vision of our charity event.â He chuckled and shook his head at his own words. Heâs never thought heâd say this. Â
Her eyes peered at him with intrigue, a glimmer washing over them when she asked: âAre you taking suggestions?â
Bucky sat up straighter now. âUh, yes. Gladly.â This was easier than he thought.Â
âThere is this wonderful shop in Brooklyn. Itâs called AsGarden on 18th Avenue. You canât miss it, itâs like a breath of fresh air between all those ugly beige buildings. The woman owning it has great taste, she managed to make the perfect bouquet for me without ever seeing me.â She turned forward, a little flustered, âSteve gets me flowers from there sometimes, theyâre my favorite.â
âDid you hear that, Stan?â A victorious smile spread on Buckyâs face as he squeezed Bambiâs shoulder. âNext stop is Brooklyn.â
âAlright, Sir.â
âYou donât know how much easier you just made my life.â Bucky leaned forward and kissed her cheek before the car came to a stop and he bid her goodbye.Â
âIâm glad I could help.â She waved back and then headed into the restaurant.Â
Maybe the event wasnât so difficult after all, Bucky thought as he leaned back in his seat, his legs spreading in satisfaction.
â â â
The cool air snook through your shop when the familiar bell of a customer chimed above the door. Youâd seen many people frequent your shop daily. Women, men, teenagers, elderly. All came from different backgrounds and varying stories in their repertoire. Your store was in the heart of Brooklyn - a bunch of people mixed in this town. And youâd made it your mission to find the perfect flower arrangement for each and every one of them.Â
The man who had set off your little bell this afternoon was different though. A perfectly tailored coat adorned his broad shoulders. The way his hands were tucked in his pockets revealed the expensive-looking suit beneath as well as the toned chest that hid beneath the button-up in vain. His presence oozed money as he sashayed through your shop, carefully grazing delicate pedals with the aura he brought in.Â
He seemed to own the world, but something about him just didnât fit between the colorful flowers surrounding him. If you didnât know any better, he looked a little lost, eyes glassy as they swayed through the sea of colors and shapes soaking in fresh water.Â
âGood afternoon, sir. Can I help you?â
He ripped around, fixed his posture, and approached the cash desk. When his eyes landed on you, he froze. Just for a second, however, and then his jaw snapped into a handsome smile as he leaned forward.Â
âI sure hope so.â His white teeth flashed between his lips before his tongue stroked over them. It was capturing. âThis flower shop has been recommended to me. You wouldnât happen to be the owner?â
âWell actually, I am,â you smiled hiding the pride swelling in your chest from the comment.
âGreat. What is your capacity when it comes to event arrangements?â
âThat depends...â You smiled as the handsome stranger raised his eyebrows in intrigue. âI reckon we have vastly different understandings of what is small and... big.â Your eyes wandered over his expensive coat again. The innuendo was accidental, really, but he seemed to be amused nevertheless.Â
âMy company is hosting its annual charity event in November... at The Glasshouse.â
âSo just as I suspected...â You nodded and strode past him towards the fall flowers.
âPardon me?â
You turned your head towards him and winked. âBigger than I thought.â
âSo?â He approached you with his hands still in his coat pockets and peeked over your shoulder. âCan you do it?â
âTotally.â Then you gestured to the flowers. âDo you have any preferences? I donât have all the flowers in yet, but I recommend going with some soft orange and sage tones... to cater to the season.â
âForgive me, sweetheart, but I am useless when it comes to this kind of stuff. My qualities lie more in the technical aspect of things.â A hand ran through his thick dark hair and the gesture made him look boyish.
âAlright let me rephrase my question then: Do you trust me?â A sly smile sneaked on his face, matching yours.Â
He tipped his head. âMy life is in your hands.âÂ
âGood. Then please write down your details here.â You pushed a form over the counter once you reached it again, and the man just followed you around like a lost dog. You watched as his hand swiftly filled out the free spaces on the paper, curious which company he had been referring to.Â
âWait youâre working for SPS?âÂ
âI own it, sweetheart.â The man adjusted his coat as you tried to look unimpressed. âMy name is James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.â His hand extended over the shiny countertop until it encased your smaller fingers and his warmth seeped through your body.Â
Buckyâs smile brightened when you revealed your name to him, telling you how beautiful it was, and you began to struggle not to show the effects it had on you. Then he resumed filling out the order and slid it over to you again.Â
âWhat cause are you raising money for this year?â You asked as you sorted the paper into your books, only to be surprised when Bucky seemed a little nervous all of a sudden.Â
You knew Shield Protection Services was a pristine company with reach to people whose powers you could barely comprehend. Whatever they were choosing, it would have a big impact on the change their chosen organization was advocating.Â
âWell, to be honest... we havenât decided yet.â A silly idea hushed through your head at that, but you dismissed it. A company such as Buckyâs would raise sums only big fish could handle. There wasnât space for the things you had in mind.Â
âI hope youâll do so soon, then.â You nodded thoughtfully and ended with a tight-lipped smile.Â
Bucky nodded and smiled, then turned around and headed for the door. But before he could open it, he came back again. You looked up to see a black card held before you.Â
âIâd be happy for suggestions... if you have any in mind.â He shrugged with that cheeky look of his and then left. And you just stood there, dumbfounded, and toying with the ridiculous idea that Bucky Barnes might actually be able to read minds.Â
â â â
âRogers really couldnât make it?â Tony asked as he leaned back in the leather booth of his very own establishment. He tipped his emptied whiskey glass towards the slender redhead at the bar and smiled as she rushed to get his refill ready.Â
âHe promised Bambi to be home...â Bucky trailed off as he watched a customer hit on the waitress - Tiffany he remembered - A pretty thing, but unfortunately incredibly hollow when it came to conversation... not that Bucky looked for anything like it. Â
Tony huffed. âThat woman has him wrapped around her finger!â He liked Bambi, everyone did, he just missed hanging out with his guys.Â
âJust wait until you find the one, Tony,â Sam chimed in with a sly smirk on his face - a hopeful, yet cautious hint as Sam secretly loved the idea of all his friends finally finding the one. He was a romantic, Bucky knew it, even if Sam never actually said it.Â
âMe? I would never give up my glorious bachelor life for one woman. There are way too many things to explore...â
âMark my words, Stark. Weâll look back to this day and laugh about this incredibly jackassy statement. You, too will be finding the one. I just know it.â
Bucky chuckled and tipped his glass on the Table as the bickering of his friends faded into background noise. For some reason, he didnât feel like adding to the conversation. He blamed it on the banality of a conversation both he and Tony had long decided on, but perhaps, it was because for once in his life, he considered taking Samâs side on the topic.Â
It was ridiculous, really, how fast youâd occupied his mind when it came to Samâs comment about finding âthe oneâ. He didnât even know you aside from the âbackground checkâ he conducted after his visit to your shop. That might have covered your personal details, but he still didnât know if you were a dog person or preferred cats, or if you were vegan or vegetarian, or if you considered kids in your future.Â
Bucky cleared his throat and sat up straighter when he felt the fluster creep up his neck. What the hell was happening to him? He wasnât like this at all. Women occupied his mind for about as long as it took for him to make them come undone in his hands. When he was with them, his full attention was on them - he loved them - but heâd never let them control his life. James âBuckyâ Barnes never even considered seeing them twice, let alone thinking about a future with them.Â
Though, to Buckyâs displeasure - or pleasure (he hadnât decided yet) - the thought of seeing you again wasnât uncomfortable to him. On the contrary, he got a weird tingly feeling in his stomach when he remembered the smell of the flowers in your shop and how your delicate fingers carefully picked out the prettiest ones. Bucky sat his drink down with a clink. Maybe heâd had enough alcohol for tonight.
âBarnes, how come youâre not defending me here? Have you grown soft or something? Do you have a girl we donât know about?â Tonyâs nagging broke through to Bucky and the whole bar reached back into his consciousness.
âSorry, what?â He stuttered, shaking his thought and trying to find a good answer to his friendâs remark. âI was distracted by Betty.â Bucky smiled sheepishly as he received a clap on his shoulder.Â
âThatâs my man.â Tony grinned and Sam huffed into his whiskey. And Bucky? He just sunk into his seat, feeling somehow shameful for the white lie he had made up.
â â â
The SPS office was impressive. Amongst the old New York brick building surrounding it, it reached up into the sky with its glass front everything. But you wouldnât be fooled by its fragile looks. This was one of the most secure buildings in the city. Youâd read about it in an article some time back - the whole hype about the company was their way of making fragile-looking things indestructible. You couldnât see through the âwindowsâ from the outside. And you wouldnât be able to launch a rocket through it either. SPS had patented their stronger-than-steel-glass years ago, making them the leading security company in the world.Â
To say you had been a little surprised to see the very owner of said company on your side of town would be an understatement. But besides his incredibly adamant way of flirting, he was quite normal to talk to. Heâd even asked you for advice on the cause they should donate to this year. And after having thought about it for the better part of what should have been your sleep time, you had decided to just try and pitch your idea.Â
âDo you have an appointment Ms.?â A stunning redhead peered up at you from her desk, her nails clicked on the keyboard of her computer as she waited for your answer. You didnât really know why you thought getting to Bucky was going to be easy. The security guard had already eyed you suspiciously at the front desk in the lobby. After youâd smiled at him as charmingly as you could, heâd decided to let you be someone elseâs problem today - or maybe he just didnât see you as a threat - whatever it was, it had gotten you this far. But what were you gonna say now?
Actually, I donât have an appointment, but Mr Barnes met me yesterday and after thinking about him all night, I decided to pay him a visit today.
Yeah, that wouldnât cut it. Not in this office. The redhead - N. Romanoff - was what her sign said, made that fairly clear with the way her lips pursed at the opened calendar on the screen.Â
âYou donât happen to have to discuss something not suited for work with Mr. Barnes, do you? I know he tends to leave some of his meetings... open-ended.âÂ
Your eyes got wide. âGod, no. Iâm not-â Your hands made a swishing motion between you two and then you took a breath. âIâm here to discuss business. Purely business. Mr. Barnes has made an order at my shop for the company fundraiser and I just want to discuss some details.âÂ
Her eyes glimmered when her lips pulled into a smile. âDid he now?â She peered over to catch the look of the blonde assistant a few feet next to her and then back to you. âWell if that is the case, please have a seat, Iâll tell him youâre here.â And with that, she got up, winked, and wrapped at the large wooden door presumably leading to Buckyâs office.Â
She came back a minute later and gestured for you to enter. âLucky for you, his meeting just got canceled, so you should have enough time.â
âThank you.â And then Ms. Romanoff went back to her desk and started whispering to the blonde assistant.Â
Bucky sat behind his desk, a sleek glass surface lightly cluttered with papers. Other than that, the room felt cool, the large rug by the seating area did little to cover the marbled floors. You stepped inside just as Bucky called out your name. You almost didn't see the wide smile on his face as the rising sun hung low on the horizon behind him, casting a halo-like glow around his silhouette. What a freaking entrance. Though Bucky surely couldnât control the sun, you thought with a small smile, you really had to stop imagining this man was extraordinary.Â
âYouâre here.â He got up and walked towards you, his sleek back shoes echoing on the ground. And then he was next to you, leading you to the seat in front of his desk with his hand on the small of your back. âWhat brings me the honor of your visit, darling.â
He leaned on his desk with his arms crossed, a pleasant smile on his lips. âDonât get me wrong, itâs nice that you came by, but you do have my number, donât you?â
âI do.â You cleared your throat, trying to sound as convincing as possible. âI was hoping you had some time to spare, actually. I find the phone to be a little... impersonal.â
Buckyâs eyes shined with intrigue as he leaned forward, pinning you to the chair with his gaze. He licked his lips. âShow me what exactly?â
âYouâll see.â You smirked. âI happen to know that your next meeting just got canceled.â
Bucky got even closer, his breath hitting your neck with every word he spoke. âAnd Iâll gladly cancel the rest, too.â A shiver shot over your arms, his cologne seemingly intoxicating you. But before you could respond, he backed up, grabbing his coat and gesturing towards the door. âLead the way.âÂ
And so you did.Â
â â â
Bucky was suspicious when you pulled him into the subway, but he decided against saying something. He had told you he trusted you after all, and though Bucky considered himself a lot of things, a flake was not one of them. So he let it happen.Â
It wasnât half bad, either. Somewhere between his office door and the train, you had taken his hand in yours to pull him along faster. Bucky had noticed his lips spreading into a smile. It didn't last long, unfortunately. Because as he had made eye contact with an elderly lady who had then proceeded to tell you what a beautiful couple you were, you had pulled your hand away with an awkward laugh.Â
âOh, God, no, weâre not together, maâam.âÂ
Admittedly, Bucky felt a little sting in his chest ever since. In fact, he was rubbing his hand over his shirt at this very moment. You were walking along a street in Brooklyn, not too far from your shop. The neighborhood was a little more run-down than he was used to, certainly nothing like the part of town he lived in. But he kept quiet still. Maybe he was a little butthurt from your earlier aversion about the couple comment, but to be fair, Bucky wasnât used to women denying him - except Nat.Â
You suddenly stopped, making Bucky almost run into you and then stare at you in question. But when you gestured towards the sign above the two-story building, his gaze softened.Â
There, above the blue-painted metal doors, hung a faded sign. Bucky could make out the orange and yellow stripes on the board, a big Sunflower painted in the middle of it all. âSunflower -Shelter & Foodâ.
âHey, are you coming or are you glued to the ground?â Your voice rang from the entrance, he hadnât even noticed that you already moved inside.Â
Bucky gulped when his eyes swayed back to you and then down his own body. If he was going to step in there in the outfit he was currently wearing, he would look like the biggest asshole on the planet.Â
âI canât go in there.â
âWhy not?â
He just gestured towards his clothes, his Rolex glinting in the sunlight for good measure. But there was no reaction from you. You stood in the doorway, pursing your lips seemingly in thought, and then shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. âI guess youâll just have to deal with it then.â
âWhat?â He called your name. But when he realized you werenât joking, he caught up to you as fast as possible. Because the only thing worse than showing up there looking like he did was doing it alone, he decided swiftly.Â
ââThink now might be a good time to mention that this is not a very good place for a date,â Bucky mumbled next to you before closing his coat, trying to hide the even more expensive suit beneath.Â
âHow would you know?â You turned to him. âThis isnât a date, is it?â
Bucky just smirked and then he watched you greet a young boy with a warm hug, and man he imagined what it would be like to have you hug him like that.Â
âPeter this is Bucky, Bucky, Peter.â You pulled him towards you by his hand again. âI brought him along to help today, thought we always need an extra pair of hands around here.â
âPleasure to meet you, sir.â Peter reached his hand out, slightly frowning when he took in his appearance but did not say anything. âAny help is always welcome here. Come, Iâll show you what weâre doing today.âÂ
Within ten minutes, Bucky had an apron and gloves on and was ordered to cut the biggest stack of potatoes heâd ever seen. You were happily chatting away with the other helpers and Bucky, for the first time in a long time, felt ...normal.Â
Nobody was recognizing him in the crowd, there was no talk about business and investments, and there were no fucking cameras. Here, people recognized him for what he came to do, help. And it felt weird. Bucky wasnât quiet about his lavish lifestyle around his crowds. He knew the privilege he had, and he had worked for it enough to be proud of it. But it was like he had entered a different universe in this part of town. All the things he deemed normal, were things so far from imagination here, they were left out of conversations entirely. So, he tried to remember this whenever he was offered a conversation.Â
âYou do this every day?â He asked into the kitchen while struggling to peel his 5th potato.Â
âWhenever we can.â An older woman answered with a smile. She was the one who had shown him how to use the peeler faster. âThey are people just like you and me. They have to eat every day, too, Bucky.â
Bucky just nodded in silence at the humbling answer, his cheeks felt hot with embarrassment at how naive he had been.Â
Two hours later, he was standing by your side at the serving station, plating mashed potatoes and the accommodating âyouâre welcomeâ every once in a while. He rarely was out of his comfort zone, like today. But he also knew that, whenever he felt unsure, heâd look at you and youâd gift him an encouraging gesture that kept him going a little while longer.Â
After everyone had their food, you gave Bucky a tour of the premises.Â
There was a small courtyard, a couple rooms with telephones and a computer, some sofas and pillows. Nothing fancy but functional nonetheless. You led him through every room, explaining curtly what it was for and then you led him up the stairs.
On your way up, you passed Peter, who was helping a child find its toy and Bucky felt a lump form in his throat at all the new impressions he was fed today.
He cleared his throat. âPeter... is he?â
You shook your head. âNot exactly. His parents died when he was quite young. Lucky for him, though, he has always been a bright kid. He got a scholarship for every school he ever went to. But he spends most of his free time here. He has this urge to help wherever he can. Took me a couple months to keep him from skipping his lectures.â You chuckled and led him through the next door.Â
Bucky nodded with adoration. Not many people dedicated their time to something that would not benefit them directly. And while Bucky knew what a dedicated mind was capable of, he had to admit that his efforts were always motivated by personal gain.Â
âHeâs very admirable for that.âÂ
You just hummed in response. âI donât think he chose it himself. Not that I think he wouldnât. But this shelter belonged to his uncle and aunt. They died when he was in high school. Heâs working hard to keep this place alive. As do we all.â
The next room you entered was resembling a classroom. âWhat happens here?â
âMost of the children are registered for the public school of this district. But they donât always make it there. This room gives them the opportunity to catch up on missed work. We also have adult classes here, preparing for job interviews and such.â
The next hallway presented doors, all leading to bedrooms, as you explained to Bucky when you walked through the corridor. The last door was larger than the others - a double swing leading to a big sanitary area. Showers, toilets, and sinks lined the walls - all run down but functional.Â
âThis place could use some serious renovating,â Bucky mumbled, but he was sure you had heard him. Because you looked up at him now, a sad smile decorating your beautiful face.Â
âWe try to make it as clean and cozy as possible here, but we just donât have the necessary financial means for it. It works for now. The people coming here need very little. But itâs only a matter of time until the roof needs redoing or the pipes or the windows, or the-â
âYeah...â Bucky trailed off, making you stop and giving him a break to breathe. He usually wasnât surrounded by people unable to get out of unfortunate situations. The clients he spent his time with ordered his services to protect the material things theyâd bought for status and fun. It was something entirely different when you were robbed of your place to sleep.Â
âWell, this completes my humble tour.â You clasped your hands together and proceeded to look at your watch. âI think itâs time to go home.â
You descended the stairs in silence, Peter hugged Bucky goodbye and when he stepped foot back on the sidewalk, Bucky turned around to the sign once more. You stood beneath it, leaning against the doorframe and smiling at him. It was dark out now.Â
âAre you not coming?â He asked watching as you shook your head.Â
âPeter has an exam tomorrow. I offered to stay the night.â
âHere? Alone?â
âYes.âÂ
Bucky stepped towards you again. âThen Iâm go-â
âStop.â Your hand reached for his shoulder, the touch sending him straight back to a haze. âDonât do this. I know how you feel. Thereâs this sadness inside you now. You saw this for the first time. It feels awful - I know.â You retracted your hand and pushed yourself off the doorframe. âBut until you donât see anything other than pity for these people, you canât be here without breaking.â
âDoll...â
âBucky, I'm serious. Go home. Sleep on it. Try to understand the situation.âÂ
Bucky couldnât remember the last time heâd felt this helpless. He just stared at you, unable to move or say anything. He didnât like the idea of you staying here alone at night. And though the feeling of caring for someone heâd only known for two days so much scared him, he pushed it aside.Â
You leaned forward and hugged him goodbye and then the cold night surrounded him again. âThank you for trusting me today.â And then you turned around and left him standing outside alone.Â
â â â
Your purple-inked pen marked the date in your calendar.Â
âThatâs an unusually big order, Steve...â You looked up at the blonde frequenting your shop every so often. Heâd always get the pink carnations for his girlfriend. Apparently, she loved them after you bound them in the first bouquet you ever sold to Steve. He was a simple man, you could tell, so his usual orders were just as such. But not today. âAre you planning anything special?â
The handsome customer blushed with an innocent smile. âActually...â He scratched the back of his neck. âIâm planning to propose.â He looked so sheepish when you clasped your hands in excitement.
âOh, thatâs amazing. Congratulations!â
âWell not yet.â He cleared his throat, visibly trying to compose himself. But this giant pretty man in front of you was adorably nervous.Â
âI just know sheâll say yes,â you mused and made a note to reserve some more carnations for his order - a couple simple arrangements that held so much meaning.
âHow do you know?â
You watched Steve peer over to you with hopeful eyes. âItâs not every day a man puts so much effort and thought into what bouquet to get his girlfriend on a casual Monday evening each week.â You winked and Steve nodded lost in thought.Â
âTo be honest, I havenât even thought about her saying no. I wouldnât know what to do with myself.â
âYou shouldnât worry too much. You are a good man, everyone can see that. And just to be sure, Iâll make the most perfect flowers ever. Paired with your charming ways, there will be no other option but to say yes.â
He relaxed a little. âGreat. Thank you.â And then he turned to leave your shop.Â
âIâll have them ready by Friday.â You smiled.Â
âThank you... so much.â Steve smiled and you knew there was so much more hidden in his gesture.
â â â
It had become a habit that Bucky visited the shelter with you once a week. Admittedly, you were surprised he even cared enough to free his schedule so religiously. But as of the past four weeks, he had shown up at your shop, walked with you to Sunflower shelters, mingled with the people, and then even walked you home.Â
It was actually kind of refreshing, seeing him so invested and kind of protective. There werenât many guys in the city that cared enough to get you home safely. Peter offered more times than often, but you rather knew him safe at the shelter than try to fight a gangster double his size out of the kindness of his heart and the deep wish to somehow become a superhero one day.
So Bucky had to do it for now. Not that you were complaining. He was handsome and charming and interesting to converse with given the vastly different lives you lived. But he tried to adapt. Ever since the incident on the first day, he had even tried to wear less wealth-telling clothing, though he seemed to not always hit the mark just right.Â
In a way, bucky was a little fashion icon. Youâd noticed it in his colorful waistcoats, the intricate details on his shoes, or the fancy cufflinks adorning his oxford-cotton shirts. He tried to dress down. But to your surprise, the color remained. Instead of waistcoats and dress shirts, he wore regular t-shirts. His confidence never wavered. Â
A little smile hushed across your face every time you looked at him. The pink shirt he wore combined with the green apron he had been given, made him look like a lollipop. A Beautiful one, that was. With a dashing smile and an adorable frown as he tried to separate the peas from the pod.Â
âSo... how is the gala coming along?â You teased him a little having noticed how unusual this task was for him. Throughout your few meetings, you had gotten to know Bucky quite well. And apart from his statement the very day he stepped foot into your shop, he revealed to you more and more how difficult the project was for him.
âLetâs just say Iâm glad I can count on the flower arrangements,â he grumbles as a pea slipped from his fingers and across the table.Â
âThat bad, huh?â
His hands stopped working. âThe Band canceled on me again and I seem to run after every other arrangement I have made so far. If I had known how much work-â he huffed and then shook his head with an even deeper frown.Â
âHey, itâs okay to not be good at everything.â You encouraged him, your elbow nudging his side as you smiled lightly. âThere has got to be something humbling you. Makes you seem more human.â
âGee, thanks.â
âI meant to ask you...â You picked up your task to avoid his eyes that were suddenly on you again. âHow come youâre the one organizing the gala?â
Bucky chuckled, his head shaking for what seemed like the hundredth time today. âI made a deal with my assistant.âÂ
âWhat was in it for you?â You threw a couple peas in the strainer and Bucky did the same.
He shrugged. âI got to hand off some paperwork.â
Wow. âSeriously? A bit of paperwork seems like a poor trade for months of organizing something so important.â
Bucky laughed, the sound warming your stomach from the inside out and finally making you look at him again. It was little moments like this in which he felt so careless and relaxed. You liked to believe the shelter did it to him, or maybe even you. But primarily, you were glad he laid off his work self just then. âYeah it might have not been my smartest move... but I donât mind it really.â
âWhyâs that?â Your eyes locked and you suddenly became very aware of how close the two of you were standing.Â
âIf it werenât for the deal, I would have never met you.â There was something so honest and pure about the way he had stated this so plainly. And for a moment, you liked to forget that he might have just meant your suggestion to donate to Sunflower. That maybe, the funny fluttery feeling in your stomach wasnât one-sided, and that you too meant something greater to him than the coincidences that led him into your shop that day.Â
A wide smile spread on Buckyâs face and then he winked. He freaking winked at you. And while you turned back to your peas, desperate to hide the fluster on your face, you had to remind yourself that this was Bucky fucking Barnes and that he knew what he was doing.
About two hours later, you sat amongst the people currently living at the shelter, sharing the meal you had prepared for them with the hopes of getting them through another day. You and Bucky were sitting with Gabe Jones, a veteran whose post-traumatic stress disorder had cost him everything after the Vietnam War. He was always telling stories of his time on the front - a way to cope with his horrible past. By now, you and Peter had probably heard every single one of his stories twice. But Bucky was on the edge of his seat. Listening with intrigue as the food on his plate remained untouched.Â
âIt was â68 when I was sent out. There were soldiers who done already survived a year or so at the front. And, son, I am sayinâ survived âcause you couldnât call that livinâ.â Gabe shook his head before pointing his fork to his shoulder. âCaught a grenade in â69 and on our way to camp, they shot at the helicopter. Lost my right arm and comrade that day. The damn armâs gone but Iâm gonâ have the memory forever.â
The words didnât seem to affect the veteran anymore, but they never failed to leave their recipients shocked and wondering. It was always the same question: How can someone fight for a country, leave their life for a country, and end up here?
And honestly? You didnât know.Â
âIâm so sorry, sir.â Bucky swallowed as his eyes fled over to yours. âThank you for your service.â
âNotinâ to be sorry âbout.â Gabe waved his hand and then pointed at Buckyâs plate. âYou eatinâ that?âÂ
Bucky just shook his head and pushed his plate towards Gabe, a somber state overtaking his body. You did feel a little bad. But you also knew that Gabe wasnât affected by sympathies and that he was happy at Sunflower - though he preferred the street over the beds here. While he had spent just another day existing, he had simultaneously opened Buckyâs eyes to the severity of making stories like his more known.Â
By now you were pretty confident, Bucky would choose the homeless as recipients for his companyâs fundraiser sum. But he surprised you by getting involved with the people here over and over again, willing to learn and to understand.Â
The walk to your apartment building that evening was awfully quiet. Bucky had insisted he walk on the street side of the sidewalk, buried his hands in his coat pockets, and shut up ever since.
You knew he was contemplating, letting the day play on repeat in his mind. He probably had a lot of questions, a lot of frustration, and worry. Nothing unfamiliar to you, but something youâd learned to deal with ever since helping out at Sunflower.Â
âDonât feel bad,â you said when you stopped in front of the familiar brick building you called home.Â
âHow?â
âFeeling bad isnât helping them. You have the power to change things.â It was an awfully dry response, but the truth hurt sometimes.Â
Bucky just looked at you through hooded eyes, a knowing nod shaking his features as he watched slowly take a step back toward your front door.Â
âThank you,â he suddenly released - steady and calm. âFor taking me. For helping me see...âÂ
You couldnât help yourself. The confession overwhelmed you. Knowing you had succeeded in showing him what was so important to you overwhelmed you. You leaped forward and slung your arms around him, pressing tightly into his chest.Â
Buckyâs arms found their way around you in an instant, the hug conveying so much more than just a goodbye. It was a âthank youâ a âthis means the world to meâ.
After about a minute, you leaned up to him and placed a kiss to his cheek. âIâm also glad you took the deal, Bucky.â You whispered into his ear, feeling the smile on his face on your cheek.Â
When he finally released you, it seemed like the spell was gone. Bucky was back to burying his hands in his pockets, only the faint remnants of a smile hinting towards your earlier interaction. You hadnât realized how much this would affect him. You had forgotten how long you fought with yourself until you could act normal around the people at Sunflower yourself.Â
âDo you want to come up?â You threw your thumb over your shoulder at the entrance of the building with a lopsided smile. âDonât want that cheap bottle of merlot to go bad.â
Buckyâs eyes brightened underneath the street lights and the wide boyish grin returned to his face. âWe canât have that, can we?â
â â â
To say Buckyâs heart had skipped a beat at your invitation would have been an understatement. It did somersaults and ended with an impressive backflip. Heâd not expected a move from your side. Especially, since the last time he had picked you up, the universe had flipped him the bird by sending two of his former one-night-stands your way. He had been able to shake them off before they were able to yell at him or reveal more of what their connection to him was. But that marked the first time he was a little embarrassed by his late endeavors. You had acted like nothing happened, but since that night, Bucky hadnât stopped wondering what you thought of him.Â
You lead him up the narrow staircase to a red wooden door, the color chipping by the floor as an indicator of having to kick it to open sometimes. Beyond the door, it was cozy and warm. Every corner of your place had a memory placed in it - a self-made quilt or a photograph. When you walked through it, Bucky could feel the love and time this place had seen.Â
It was nothing like his own apartment: a penthouse standing high above the city, with sleek black surfaces and cold marble wherever you reached. Here, he felt the need to take his shoes off, to feel the fuzzy carpets on the scratched-up wooden floors. Your place wasnât sterile like his, it felt... like a good hug.Â
Bucky snorted as the result of a breath he released. Never before had he cared about what his place lacked. It was expensive and pristine, clean and big. And even though your apartment was about the size of his living room, it had so much more to offer.Â
âThe living room is right through there, you can choose a movie if you like.â Your voice called out from somewhere Bucky assumed to be the kitchen as he kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable on the rust-colored sofa that had more pillows than necessary. It was super comfortable, though. And the lack of space due to the pillows forced you to sit a little closer to him, so he wasnât complaining.
âYour place is... cute.â He stated as you handed him a glass of wine and laughed.Â
âItâs a shoebox but I do love it very much. Probably nothing compared to what youâre used to.â
Bucky shook his head and took a sip. The wine did taste cheap, but he did not care. âBigger isnât always better.â His arm was spread on the backrest but your whole body was turned to him. âIt has a lot of character.â
âOh god, please stop, youâre just making it sound worse.â Your hand came up to hide your face but your smile peeked through the gesture.Â
Bucky laughed. âI didnât mean it condescendingly. I really do like it. Reminds me of my childhood home.â
âAre you close with your family?â Bucky was surprised by the question. Maybe it was because his friends never talked about his family, or because the peers he hung out with tended to discuss business rather than sentimental. But he realized that nobody had asked him about it for a long time.
And so he began talking. Bucky talked about his parents and how both of them died early in his life. He told you how close he was with his sister until she got adopted into another family. He spoke about his childhood with Steve and how theyâd met Sam and Tony in college, about the night they had the idea for Shield Protective Services, and finally the day he was told his sister had passed away.Â
Throughout his story, you had leaned into him closer, hanging onto his every word until your hand had to support your body on his thigh and Bucky suddenly stopped talking.Â
Your glasses were emptied, the bottle as well, and Bucky gulped when he felt the heat from your hand travel throughout his entire body.Â
âSo... thatâs my story.â He had to clear his throat to gain his usual timber back, his hands becoming sweaty when you blinked next to him. âWhat about you, dove?â
âDove?â You smiled, yet intrigued by the name that had slipped past his lips in the trance of the moment. Heâd only ever called you that in his thoughts. Attributed the nickname to you the second he realized it was the most fitting one of them all.Â
âYou donât like it?â He asked, his arm slipping towards your shoulder ever so slightly.Â
âI like it.â You smiled. âI just want to know... why this one?â
A hush of giddiness crawled up his throat when he thought about his answer. It was the way you had welcomed him so easily into this world of yours. How you were willing to show him the things precious to you. That you trusted him with this very opportunity to help. Every day he spent with you he felt it, found that between coding his new security program and meeting with Hydra enterprises, its somber reality sent him into a feeling of breathing fresh air. You created a button that turned off the noise in his head. âBecause you bring me peace.â
Your eyes stared at him in wonder when he tilted your chin with his thumb and index finger. There was appreciation and happiness, he could see it, feel it.Â
Bucky was entranced by your stare when your voice whispered a response to him: âThatâs the sweetest thing Iâve ever been told.â
You leaned forward and Buckyâs heart threatened to jump out of his chest, and then your face fell into his chest, your arms encasing him in the warmest hug heâd ever received. He willed his pulse to slow and wrapped his arms around you tightly. A little humbled and a little confused, but appreciative of the situation nonetheless.Â
You stayed like this when you chose a movie to watch. Even after an hour, Buckyâs grip didnât loosen. He peered down at you on his chest and watched as you fell asleep. And when he was sure you were far away in your slumber, he pressed a warm kiss to your head, lingering in the scent of your shampoo. Â
â â â
Bucky stared at his computer screen as the pen in his hand clicked on his glass desk in perfect rhythm. The Shelter website displayed on the surface, portraying a brighter version of the sign you had dragged him to that very first day.Â
But it wasnât the heartfelt story behind the building or the way his pen clicked slightly more hollow every other tap because he turned it too much that had him zoned out at work. It was - as unbelievable as it sounded - a woman. Not just any, no. You.Â
âHey, I need a signature from you for this design draft.â Steve dropped his notepad on the desk, then rounded it and settled behind Bucky who had yet to recognize his presence.Â
âThis your charity suggestion?â He questioned with his hands on his friendâs office chair.Â
Bucky nodded absentmindedly. Perhaps it was because he had decided to support your suggestion the second you had taken his hand on his way to the subway. Or maybe he was just letting his mind roam freely again. Mainly because it was a safe bet to call you into memory and he liked the feeling it provided.Â
A pale hand waved in front of his face. âEarth to Bucky.â Steve snapped his fingers, making the brunette jump. âYou seem oddly distracted.â
He had been thinking about you. Of course, he had. There seemed to be nothing else he could do lately. Every time Bucky read through his reports, he imagined what your voice would sound like reading them to him. Whenever he went down to IT, he envisioned the room decorated with your flowers and how much happier they would make the place. When he sat in a meeting with HR and watched their burnt-out faces stare back at him through their coffee haze, he wondered if you could make them as lively as you made him.Â
Bucky could - so he realized after weeks of denial - not escape you.Â
That was one thing. But the more chilling revelation was that he did not mind. He enjoyed the little admonitions his mind set out in his environment. He appreciated the quickening thumb in his chest, whenever he saw his calendar entries stating another meeting with you - so much so that he almost forgot how unusual it was for him.Â
It was crazy. A month ago, if someone had dared to tell him heâd be finding something more than his regular flings, he would have laughed in their face. In fact, he actually did a few days before he met you.Â
Bucky didnât know what kind of magical spell youâd put on him, but within a few weeks, heâd started to become a different man. A better version of his thought-to-be-marvelous self. Now he realized what he was missing: a counterpart, someone who made life seem dull without them by his side. He wasnât going to admit it to Sam or Steve immediately, but the idea of you being that very someone became more attractive each day.Â
âJust a lot to do with the gala and all...â Bucky trailed off and spun around to Steve.Â
âYou know, I never took you for an event manager...â The blonde grinned and his eyes lit up in the office light. âDonât take this the wrong way, I like seeing you try something new, but this feels very... out of place.â
âBut you also know I never back down from a challenge. And Iâll be damned if Nat has something to hold against me for life.â
Steveâs head tipped forward. âWe both know that woman has blackmail material for two lifetimes on us.Â
âShe really does.â Bucky sighed and then slumped back in his chair, the little issue he had been hiding from his best friend gnawing on his mind.Â
He thought about Steve and Bambi and how he had just asked her to marry him. Sheâd said yes, of course, nobody expected otherwise. Steve - of all people - was living a magical fairytale life with the woman of his dreams. And here Bucky was, thinking he had figured it all out with women and relationships - or rather that he never wanted one - yet he found himself wondering why that decision bugged him so much when you came into the picture.Â
âCan I ask you something?â Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, not believing he was really going to ask Steve for dating advice.
âAlways.â
âHow did you know that Bambi was the one?â A stupid question, really. Bucky already knew there was nobody like you. But it was best to start this conversation off lightly.
Steve smiled widely again, his cheeks tinted pink. âWell, I couldnât stop thinking about her. And not in an I havenât touched a woman in years kind of way... I couldnât stop. Every second of every day, I imagined her with me. The thought of her made me happier even before she knew how I felt about her. And, well, it also hurt like hell when I thought she didnât return my feelings... when she refused to talk to me for a day...â He cleared his throat and then eyed Bucky again. âWhy do you want to know?â
âNothing in particular. I was just wondering and I needed material for my best man speech.â But the blonde didnât buy it. He caught Buckyâs chair when he attempted to turn away, pulling him right back in front of him. âAre you dating someone? Is it that woman from the flower shop?â
How did he know about you? âNo??â Bucky squinted at Steve.Â
âYou know if you wanted advice, I do consider myself an expert to some extent now.â Bucky wanted to wipe the smug grin right off his friendâs face.Â
âYouâre an idiot.â He stood up and paced to the window.
âOh come on, Buck.â Steve followed suit, the playful grin ever present. âYou teased me for years about my love life, canât be mad now.â
âIâm not mad.â He was annoyed.Â
They stood by the glass front for a while, watching the busy city unfold beneath them in the glow of the rising sun. Bucky could feel his friendâs eyes stare at him though. And after another moment of silence, the blonde finally spoke. âYou should ask her out.â
âWhat?â He faced him again.Â
âYou like her. I can tell. And youâve never acted like this about a woman, let alone put so much effort into a relationship. I know itâs not your style, but I think it would do you good to at least try.â
âThe effort is for the gala.â Bucky corrected.Â
âRight. Because thatâs your thing... charity galas.â Steve squeezed Buckyâs shoulder and then tapped it and then he made his way to the door. âIâm not going to tell you what to do, but I really wish you would listen to your heart and not be a stubborn dickhead for once. This could be something life-changing - something great. And itâs your choice whether you welcome it or not.â
Life changing. Bucky didnât like the sound of that. He liked to be in control of the situation and rule over his own life. However that aspect seemed to have left the building when you entered.Â
He huffed. There you were back on his mind again, and he felt the tingle creep up his throat. There was no denying it. What Steve had described with Bambi was what Bucky had with you.Â
With a shake of his head, he grabbed his coat, told Nat heâd be back in an hour, and then pressed the button for the elevator. He would deny it if Steve ever dared to take pride in convincing him to do so, but heâd also be damned if he didnât at least try to find out if you felt the same.Â
â â â
There was a burly-looking stranger standing at the counter when Bucky entered your shop. He had willed the traitorous voice in his head to silence all the way here. But now that he saw the handsome older man taking all your attention to the point you hadnât even noticed him stepping in over the customer's broad shoulders, the heat began to bubble up again.Â
Bucky wanted to tell himself you wouldnât prefer the salt-and-pepper-bearded man over him. But to be honest, he didnât even know what your type was. Yes, you had cuddled on your sofa just the other night, but since Bucky wouldnât consider himself an expert in anything other than one-night stands, it could have been a friendly gesture for all he knew.Â
âWould that be all for you?â You asked the man and handed him his chance. Bucky watched as his thumb grazed over your hand, feeling a tinge of anger starting to consume him. Â
âThatâs all. Thank you, sweetheart.â
âI hope to see you again soon, sir.â
âOh, you can bet on it.â He winked then turned, nodded to Bucky in a brief greeting, and then exited the shop. Buckyâs eyes lingered on the door for a while longer. He took deep breaths as his jaw clenched and the bell above the entrance fell silent.Â
âHey.â A warm hand touched his arm, pulling him right back to your eyes. And just like that, the anger washed away a little. There were just you and him in your tiny oasis amid Brooklyn. âAre you alright?â
âIâm fine.â He forced a smile, but the frown on his face probably betrayed him. âJust thought that man was a little inappropriate.âÂ
âHeâs just a sweet man buying flowers for his wife.â Your eyes glimmered with mischief when you bit your lip. âBucky... are you jealous?â
Oh, hell no.
âJealous?â Bucky wasnât jealous. He couldnât be. There was nothing to be jealous of. He had no claim to you. Even if he really wished he did. And yet that man had angered him with only the touch of his hand. That was the only thing heâd ever get. Bucky knew what it felt like to have you in his arms, how your body lotion settled in his nose, how your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. âNo.â
âBut you should not be so naĂŻve, dove. Married men are also flirting... and cheating.â
A short laugh escaped your throat before you caught yourself again and Buckyâs heart began doing that funny somersault thing. âNot to burst your bubble or anything, but I do know how the real world works.â You crossed your arms before your chest. âBesides, what do you care if he did ask me out? Maybe it has been a lifelong dream of mine to be a mistress.â
âItâs not. And I donât. I just think you deserve someone better than a cheater.â
âOh, like who? The percentage of good guys in this city is disappointingly low.â
Bucky snorted, guided by the excitement in his chest he opened his arms. âPlease, I could name at least five guys off the top of my head who are better than whatever that was.â His left hand flailed in the direction of the door, referring to the previous customer.Â
âName one.â
âMe.â
The surprise sprung onto your features faster than Bucky realized what he had said. âWhat?âÂ
Well, this was certainly not the way he had planned to ask you out today. Damn jealousy. The only way for this to not be embarrassing was to own up to it now. It was what he had come here for after all, right?
Bucky looked directly into your eyes, his expression sincere and determined. "Yes, me. I may not have everything figured out, but I do know one thing: I care about you. I've seen the way you light up a room, the kindness you show to everyone around you. You deserve someone who sees that, who appreciates it.â
Your eyes softened when you shook your head, averting your gaze to the ground. âI donât know, Bucky.â
He bit the insides of his cheeks, instantly hoping youâd say something else. Anything that would show him there was a chance you would change your mind. The silence was all-consuming, but he kept his mouth shut, careful not to fuck it up once again.Â
âBucky, I appreciate your honesty, I really do. But I don't think it's a good idea.â
Bucky's brows furrowed, his confidence wavering as your soft refusal hit him. "What do you mean, you don't know?" he asked, his tone tinged with a hint of frustration. He struggled to keep his composure, the unfamiliar feeling of rejection gnawing at him. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he searched for the right thing to say. His jaw tensed, betraying the hurt he felt deep down. "Forget it," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. With a curt nod, he turned on his heel, his disappointment palpable in the air as he made his exit, leaving you to contemplate his unexpected confession.
â â â
âWhy, donât you just look precious!â You bent down and picked up Samâs daughter, Darla, who had eagerly stormed through the door as soon as heâd opened it because she wasnât quite tall enough to reach the handle yet.Â
âYou... Iâve missed you soooo much.â You nuzzled her into your chest and pretended to squeeze real tight.Â
âCome play dragons with me!â The little one squirmed and then hopped off in her tiny knight costume.
âNothing I would rather do,â you singsonged and then mouthed a âsheâs grown so muchâ to Sam before he closed the door with a shake of his head.Â
âI know... she just does it without my permission. Unbelievable.â
About ten minutes later, you sat on the living room floor with a bunch of stuffed dragons, you had been instructed to play. Samâs daughter was happily fighting the stuffies with her wooden sword and his husband handed you a cup of coffee with a smile.Â
âSo how have things been?â Matt sat down on the sofa and Sam instantly wrapped his arm around him. Your eyes lingered on the interaction for a second before your gaze wandered back to Darla.Â
âOh, you know, business as usual. The shop is doing very well... the shelters are holding up.â You smiled at her and then made a dragon fall backward in defeat.Â
âHm...â He frowned. âThatâs weird... I had a feeling it was getting better soon.â
You smiled tight-lipped and wondered if you had butchered it all with your stubbornness. Matt wasnât clairvoyant or anything crazy like it. But the joke of his other senses being heightened due to his impaired vision had carried on forever. And even though you never believed in supernatural magical things, you couldnât help but wonder if maybe, there was a hunch of truth to it nonetheless. He had been right about many other things after all.Â
âI donât know,â you sighed and Darla excused herself to her room to âget more toysâ. âExcept for the shop, everything else seems to go a little downhill right now.â
âBut you have been seeing someone, no?â Matt tilted his head and Sam squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to make him stop.Â
âBabe, do we need to talk about appropriate prying again?âÂ
âSorry,â Matt blushed, âOccupational hazard.â
You laughed and then turned serious again. âI have... but to be honest, I doubt it will have a future. Itâs - I donât know - it just seems a little too good to be true.â
âItâs been Bucky youâve been seeing, hasnât it?â Sam chimed in with a calm deep voice, making your attention snap to him. Your heart began to race at the mention of Buckyâs name.Â
âHow did you know?â
His fingers lifted in air quotes âA gorgeous girl with a flower shop in Brooklyn that somehow tries to convince him to donate to Sunflower shelters? You did not make it hard, honey.â
âHe... he talks to you about me?â Well, that changes things, you thought as you watched Sam reassure you with a small smile.Â
"More like a little birdy told me...." Sam shrugged. âWhat happened?â He leaned forward slightly, his eyes holding concern.
âIsnât it obvious? I donât want to be one of his many trophies. And Iâm scared, I just made the chase attractive by not putting out immediately.â Your eyes turned glassy. âWhat if he will lose interest when I do.â Your voice broke, making you almost whisper the last part into the living room. âBecause I really really want to...â
Matt cleared his throat. âIf it helps anything... I have a feeling you are not going to be just another one-night stand.â
âAnd why is that?â
âIâve never seen him like this.â Sam chimed in. âSo butthurt about a girl or even put effort in a relationship that would only become a one night stand - which it is not - he wants more, he needs more. He sees a future with you. And as much as his bad-boy demeanor has made that pretty unbelievable in the past, he is changing. I just know, and itâs about time that he aims for peace and quiet and love and comfort.â
Turning your head with a suspicious grin, you answered: âIs Matt contagious? Because that sounded one hell of a lot like a prediction to me.â
Sam just shook his head with a smile, scooted forward on the sofa, and then took your hands in his. âBelieve me when I say this: You are so amazing. And not even a douchebag like Bucky could deny it. Yes, he has had his fair share of women in the past, and he can be the most stubborn dickhead in all of New York City, but heâs not stupid. He knows something valuable when he sees it. And you, love, have given him the most precious thing heâs ever had.â
You held eye contact for a short moment, letting your friendâs words sink in and warm you from the inside until the butterflies in your stomach began to tingle. As much as you wanted to refuse, you had shown him love and acceptance every step of the way. And Bucky? Bucky had tried so hard to impress you. He had done so many things just for you, to spend time with you.
You just wrote it off as a means to get you to sleep with him. But at this point, that argument was farfetched. Because throughout the time you spent together, his presence was pleasant, casual, and... wanted.Â
âSo what do I do now?â You said with determination, making a smile spark on both Samâs and Mattâs faces.
â â â
âSo, Barnes is unusually grumpy tonight.â Bucky heard Tony say when he came back from the bathroom, jamming his glas on the table to announce he was listening. âDid you get cockblocked or what?â
âShut it, Stark, or Iâll personally demonstrate your very own cockblock.â Bucky pressed through his teeth.Â
âDamn, Buck. What the hell could possibly throw you off this much?â Tony signaled for two more drinks to the bar as Bucky took a seat again.Â
Sam looked at him with a raised brow - the fucker knew what was going on. But Bucky refused to get dragged into talking about his feelings.Â
âI thought it was going good?â Steve chimed in, a question in his features. Steve, you punk. Shut up!
Bucky knew he was referring to the bouquets of flowers that subtly decorated the office now. First his own desk, then the kitchen. And when Nat had grown suspicious, he proceeded to place them on her desk to have her stop asking questions.Â
It wasnât his doing - not this time. You had just given him a bouquet of the flowers you couldnât sell anymore every time you met. And Bucky couldnât bring himself to throw them out. They also reminded him of you and were a nice little distraction from work. ...Not that it mattered anymore.
âGoing good? What is going on? What are you talking about, Rogers?â
âBucky met a- ouch goddamnit!â A kick was heard from beneath the table. And when Steveâs eyes snapped over to Sam, the man just tipped his head with a warning stare. âWhat the hell, man?â
âOkay, thatâs it. I feel like you guys donât tell me anything. I need details. Now.â
âNo.â
Bucky didnât need Tony to know. In fact, Bucky didnât need anyone to know he had trouble talking to a woman. He, of all people, who never had any difficulties getting even the married ones - yeah he wasnât too proud of that... But Tony would just make everything worse. And with his patience hanging by a thread right about now, he was not willing to play with fire.Â
âBuck, we- theyâre your friends. They deserve to know, especially if things are as serious as you told me.â Bucky just stared at Steve in silence, his gaze trained on the crystal class in front of him with the amber liquid untouched. Steve always had a need to calm the storm. And maybe, Bucky would let him do it this time.Â
Truthfully, Bucky couldnât imagine a life without you anymore. His friends would sooner or later hear about you - if he had not fucked it up entirely. So, it was better to rip the band-aid off now than peel it back painfully slow in the future.Â
He crossed his arms and exchanged a brief glance with the blonde, and Steve understood that he was allowed to proceed.Â
âBucky met someone. Heâs organizing the charity gala this year and sheâs the florist doing the flower arrangements.â He had never noticed it before, but ever since Bambi had entered Steveâs life, his best friendâs fable for romance became more and more apparent to Bucky.Â
âSheâs also helped him find a cause to donate to. Sheâs been taking him to the Shelter she has worked at for years,â Sam chimed in and Bucky didnât even question where he got his information from anymore. Steve and he had always been close, and though Bucky didnât believe Steve would tell Sam his most private conversations, Sam always had a way of finding out.Â
âEvent planning? Florist? Who are you and what have you done to Bucky?â Tony looked seriously stunned, But Bucky didnât expect anything less than incomprehension. He had always been the only one in the group Tony could relate to and talk to when it came to women and lifestyles. Now, that very thing was slipping away.Â
Bucky just shrugged, uncertain how to answer. It was true: He had changed quite a bit ever since meeting you. But they weren't bad changes. He actually liked them.Â
Steve cleared his throat. âI thought things were going great, just the other day he talked about asking her out. And there were all these flowers in the office, I just assumed...â
âYeah well, they werenât.â Bucky interrupted as he felt the frustration creep back up. There were so many new feelings mixing within him that he didnât know what to do with them.Â
âWell itâs good to have you back, I guess. Canât imagine how that wouldâve turned out.â Tonyâs hand landed on Buckyâs shoulder, who immediately brushed it off.Â
âWhat do you mean âturned outâ?â
His head swayed from left to right and his hands turned outward. âWell, we all agree it would have never worked out right? Youâre not the one for relationships and she was clearly using you for that charity money.â
What the actual fuck?
âYou donât know her. So donât you dare assume anything about her.â Bucky sprung up, his hands hitting the table with a thump. âDove has the kindest, most beautiful soul on this earth.â He wouldnât let Tony, of all people, insult you. Not you. Not his dove. And, yes, maybe it also hurt a little that his friend did not believe Bucky could change for something truly important. And maybe it scratched his ego that this might have been the reason for your rejection the other day. But all of that seemed unimportant now.Â
âLook at you growing all protective.â
âTony.â Steveâs condescending tone rumbled over the booth.Â
A look at Tony and Bucky wanted to smack the smirk off his face. Another look at Sam, whose eyes had grown soft with empathy. And one last look at Steve, whoâd only wanted him to be as happy as him. Damn it.Â
âYou wouldnât fucking know what Iâm talking about, Stark.â
And then he stormed out of the Ironbar and into the night, head fuming, heart racing, and only one thing on his mind.Â
â â â
You were pretty sure Bucky would have kicked your door down had you not opened it the second time he wrapped his fist against it. Now he was standing in front of you, cheeks reddened from the cool night air, chest rising with deep breaths, but still devilishly handsome.Â
âHey, Bucky!â You smiled until you noticed the irritated look in his eyes. âWhat are you doing here?â
He seemingly ignored you, stepping into your home and then turning once you closed the door. âDo you think I can change?â
âWhat?â
âDo you believe I could change? That I could become the person you would date?â His eyes were pleasing, his head cocked to the side - fidgedy.
âIs... is this about the other day?â
Bucky looked nervous, vulnerable even. âJust answer my question, please.â
âI believe everyone has the ability to change. But I also know not everyone wants to.â You looked at your hands, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.
âThen why... why do you think I havenât. Through all the times weâve gone to the shelter, through all the conversations. Iâve never had that with someone before... what I have with you.â
There it was. You knew you had to talk to him about it sooner or later. Sam and Matt had suggested as much. You just didn't know it would be this soon.
âBucky, I just donât want to end up as one of the women passing you on the street, throwing side eyes at the newest one youâre having on your arm.â Yeah... that encounter had been a rather awkard one. Not to mention how nervous you were that night, hopig Bucky had only played it cool in order to protect you.
âSee, but that wouldnât happen to you, dove. It wouldnât. Because I realized that you are the reason that makes me want to change.â Bucky's gaze softened as he spoke, his tone gentle yet resolute he stepped closer. âI'm not perfect, but I promise you this: I'll always try my best for you. So, yeah, maybe it's a long shot, but I think I could be good for you. And if you'd give me the chance, I'd love to show you.â He took your hands in his, then closed his eyes and came even closer. âI know I'd treat you right.â
Throughout his confession, your gaze never faltered from his face. You could feel the desperate honesty in his tone, in the way his hands lightly trembled. He was scared, and he lay that emotion in your hands - for you to do whatever you needed with it.Â
Your voice was shaky when you answered, a light hue of shame fogging the question on the tip of your tongue. âBut how do I know...?â That this is not what youâre telling every woman in this godforsaken city?Â
But Bucky understood. Because apparently that pull you'd had toward him had been there for a reason. âBecause the things you make me feel scare me.â His face was mere inches from yours now, you could see every speck of color in his irises. âThey scare me because Iâve never felt them before. Every time Iâm not with you, I think of you. In every situation I am in alone, I imagine how much more exciting it would be with you in it. Iâm going crazy. Iâm lost without you, dove.â
A single tear ran down your face at his confession. This moment felt so raw, his words so sincere. But most importantly, it made your heart pound with excitement.Â
âWill you be mine?â His forehead leaned against yours, his hands moving up your arms and to your neck. âPlease say yes,â he whispered and his breath tickled your nose.Â
He just felt so right. Bucky felt right in your home, in your arms, in your life. âYes.â You finally answered and as soon as the syllable left your mouth, his lips came crashing onto yours.Â
Within seconds, Bucky had you pressed against the door. His hands held your face lovingly, his hands warm and big on your skin. The kiss was deep and so unbelievably pure, it punched the breath from your lunges the second your lips connected. And suddenly you knew that Buckyâs words held far less emptiness than you had feared. Nobody could kiss like this and not be sincere. At least you hoped it to be true because once youâd gotten a taste, you knew you would never want to try anything else. You could get drunk off him. Forever.
Your hands wandered beneath Buckyâs coat, settling in the warmth of his back beneath the thick wool and feeling the muscles ripple when he pulled you even closer.Â
You sighed into him because the moment felt so right, so perfect, so tailored to the two of you and Bucky brushed his tongue over your bottom lip. The tingle from the gesture traveled down your spine. Before you could hold yourself back, you let his touch swallow you whole.Â
â â â
Bucky moaned, a feeling so warm and enjoyable taking over his body with every breath you stole from him. He had wanted for this to happen for weeks. And the real thing did not disappoint.Â
Your hands roamed his back until they hooked onto his shoulders and began shrugging off his coat. He tried hard to keep your lips on his during the action, not wanting to miss a single moment without them anymore. You were here, you were his, and it was perfect.Â
âBucky,â you whimpered when his thigh made its way between your legs. A move so instinctually feeling for him. But all the other women heâd been with before only seemed like practice now. Preparation to be the best lover youâve ever had and ever will have. Because you were the real thing, the grand prize, the best person to ever happen to him.Â
You ground down on his legs in rhythmic motions, Bucky could feel the heat seeping through his expensive dress pants and it made him feel even hotter. He pushed his leg higher, reveling in the sounds that came from your lips and the very knowledge he was the one providing this pleasure. There was nothing more exhilarating.Â
But still, it wasnât enough. âThere are too many layers of clothes between us, dove,â his wet breath brushed against your cheek as he pulled his thigh back for you to take off your jeans.Â
âYouâre so right.â You grinned and then pulled them down in one swift motion only to reveal a pink pear of panties underneath.Â
In an instant, his body was pressed to yours again, his lips attaching to yours like magnets - he couldnât get enough of the taste of you. But instead of placing his leg right back to get you that delicious friction, his hand began traveling down your front until it disappeared in your underwear.Â
If you were any other woman, Bucky wouldâve gone down on you. He would have dropped to his knees and eaten you out because he knew it was the fastest way heâd make you come. And he took pride in the fact that the women he was with always had at least one orgasm more than him. But he didnât do so with you.Â
Why?
Because Bucky Barnes got high off of your lips, and he couldnât possibly imagine not seeing your face, feeling your mouth shape in a silent scream when he would make you come for the first time.Â
So his hand had to do for now. His fingers slipped past the thin pink cotton and over your mound to gather your slickness. He gasped when he reached your heated core. âYouâre so wet for me, love. So ready.â He pecked the corner of your lips. âSo perfect.â
âYes!â You whined and pressed your pussy into his touch. Bucky immediately started to trace circles on your clit. He took his time to find the motions with which your breath staggered, or your fists clenched in his shirt. With every whimper, every stroke of his hand, he felt his dick strain his pants a little more - the aching exciting him for when he could finally sink into you.Â
âShit, donât stop. Iâm so close.â
âI donât plan on ever stopping.â He growled into your mouth, his hand movements becoming more frantic, the wet noises filling your apartment. Frankly, Bucky didnât believe he could ever stop giving you pleasure and having you writhe in his arms with deep sighs. Not until he knew how you sounded cumming on his hand, on his face, on his dick, on the sofa, on the bed, and every other surface he could possibly imagine. Your body was like ecstasy.
Your walls began to clench around his fingers, every drag becoming harder as he imagined his cock being squeezed by you instead. âThere you go, Baby. Thatâs it.â
âOH MY GOD!â You screamed as your hand pulled on his hair, your body growing rigid with pleasure and Bucky kissed every curse word from your lips.Â
After a minute, he slowly pulled his hand back, the other caressing the skin on your cheek. âAre you okay?â He whispered, his eyes boring into yours in genuine concern.Â
âAre you kidding? Iâm more than okay. That was incredible.â Bucky couldnât help the small chuckle from leaving his lips at your praise.Â
âYou look really fucking pretty when you come.â
âIâm glad. Because I want you to make me do it again.â You kissed his cheek. âAnd again.â And then you gently stroked his cock through his pants. âAnd again.â
And the second you said that Bucky pulled you onto the floor with him. He took his time removing your clothes, kissed the trial of your bra strap all the way down your shoulder, licked and bit at your hips all the way down to your ankles where he finally pulled off your underwear and pressed his lips to the soft skin of your leg. And when you were fully naked, he paused. Buckyâs eyes roamed your body, taking in every divot, every mark and curve of yours.
He sat back on his haunches, his head getting dizzy when the butterflies took over. âGod, youâre so beautiful,â Bucky softly wheezed, his hand slowly stroking your leg as you lay spread out in front of him.Â
âCome here.â You gestured with your arms open, welcoming him in your embrace with a wide smile. Bucky supported his weight with his arms on either side of your head and let your hands bury in his hair. He closed his eyes letting the warmth of your touch overtake him. Your thumbs stroked over his brows before you whispered: âLook at me.â
âYeah?â
âIâm sorry I doubted you. I feel the appreciation in the way you talk to me and touch me. It was unfair of me to assume you are your reputation.â
âNo, itâs okay. Itâs not like I made it easy for you to believe me.â
You chuckled and pressed a kiss to his lips. âWell, I do now.â Your eyes locked with his and a new fire lit within them.Â
âGood.â He smirked and then rolled you over so that you were straddling his waist. The cool wooden floor hit his bare back as you had bunched his shirt up on the way, now pulling it over his head and revealing your satisfied stare when your hands traced over his abs.
You shook your head and released a breath. âShame on me for refusing this for so long.â Your fingers passed his happy trail and began working on his belt. Buckyâs thumbs stroked your thighs as he watched you undress him, the tent in his pants ever so present and growing with every brush of your fingers.Â
âDonât worry, dove. We have all the time in the world to make up for it.â When his pants were off he pulled you forward again, kissing you ferociously. ââCause Iâm not planning on leaving.â
You smirked and ground down on his cock, interrupting his speech and ripping a guttural sound from his chest.Â
He had been holding back. Ever since you'd dragged him into that shelter, he had not touched a woman, because you had him hooked the second you had taken his hand on the way. And now he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from coming in his boxers like a school boy.Â
âAre you getting nervous, Bucky?â You grinned and moved again to tease him a little more.
âCan you blame me?â He clenched his jaw when you rocked forward again, his hand stilling your hips with a near-bruising grip. âIâve wanted you ever since I stepped foot in your shop.â
âYou did?â Your head cocked to the side, surprise washing over your face and his dick twitched making Buckyâs cheeks heat up.Â
âYes...â He confessed only to be attacked with your kisses again. He groaned and bucked his hips up until you were a moaning mess on top of him. His hands reached around you, settling on your ass and giving it a small clap.Â
âHand me my walled, baby. Itâs in my pants.â
âWhy?â
âWe need a condom if you donât want to keep dry-humping me.â He smirked, knowing, feeling there was nothing dry about this anymore. Your arousal was already drenching his boxers. The slick pushing him close to losing it.Â
âItâs okay. We donât have to, I have an IUD.âÂ
âAs much as I want to, we should be safe...â Bucky swallowed and averted his eyes in regret. âHave to get tested again.â
âOh, ok.â You were disappointed, he could tell. And Bucky was too. It was the first time he ever regretted all his one-night stands because he would kill to fuck you raw and feel all of you. And as hazy as your body made him, he could not ignore the fact that he did have several different sex partners before. It would have to wait a few weeks. And when he would come back clean, he would keep you in the bedroom for a week straight.
You must have noticed his misery because you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Then you scooched back and retrieved the condom from his wallet. Bucky held his breath when your fingers hooked into his waistband. And when you pulled them down, his cock stood proud and thick with precum already pearling from his tip.Â
He reached for the shiny packet in your hand but you pulled your arm up, your eyes stuck on his cock. âLet me.â
âOkay,â he breathed out as he watched you rip the packet. His shaft twitched when your careful hands rolled the condom over him, another bead of precum dripping into the condom and before he could collect himself, you rubbed your pussy all over him, coating him in your arousal.Â
Buckyâs hands turned into fists at your sides as he watched you finally sink down on him - inch by inch, your heat welcomed him, his body sparking with pleasure all over. You moaned in unison when he was fully seated inside you, his cock being hugged tightly in your warmth - heâd barely held it together then.Â
You planted your hands on his abdomen and rocked forward, sending the both of you reeling. It took a second for Bucky to collect himself. His eyes closed and his nose huffing, he reminded himself of what he had promised you and what he wanted his first time with you to be. When he opened his eyes again, his hands moved over your body with determination. One setting over your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers, the other began tracing tight circles on your clit.Â
Your head fell back, a vision of ecstasy and pleasure unfolding before him when he sent you over the edge a second time. He slowed your hips on his and rubbed your pussy with his thumb. He needed you to come again. And then again, and he had to hold out for that long. But the way your chest heaved, the light sheen of sweat forming on your skin, made his plan more than difficult.Â
It took all of Buckyâs willpower to pull you off his cock and push you to his legs. He sat up and kissed up your neck until he reached your lips. âWhat are you doing?â
âGiving you what you asked for.â He mumbled against your skin and then licked over your nipple, the other being caressed by his fingers. His free hand found its place right between your legs again and when you moaned lowly, he slipped two fingers inside you.Â
Your pussy was squelching, the lewd sound traveling across the living room as Bucky worked you towards another release. You were already squirming in his hands again. Your fists pulled at his roots, sending a shiver straight to his cock when you leaned his head back. âYouâre amazing.â Your breath was hot, fanning over his lips only to be replaced by them again. His tongue slipped inside and mimicking the movement of his fingers in your pussy.Â
âRight back at ya, dove. I can't wait to be inside you again.â
âThen what are you waiting for?â
âFor you to come again.â He bit your lip and sped up his fingers already feeling you squeeze him tightly. âSo youâre satiated when I come deep inside you, feeling you squeeze me with that perfect pussy of yours until you see stars.â
âShitshitshit. Iâm coming!â A series of curses flew past him when you pulsed around his fingers, gushing all over his hand and lap until he finished rocking you through your third orgasm.Â
âFuck,â Bucky licked your juices off his fingers and his eyes rolled back into his head.Â
âI donât think I have another in me, Bucky.â
âDonât worry, love. I got you.â And with that he hooked your legs around his waist, falling forward until you were with your back to the floor, Bucky hovering over you and aligning his length with your entrance.Â
He couldnât wait anymore, in one swift motion, Bucky fully bottomed out until his balls hit your ass. And when he was confident you were comfortable, he set a relentless pace. He had been on the edge this entire time. You had almost made him come just having him watch you let go. But there was nothing like the feeling of your pussy hugging him tightly, your body writhing beneath his, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and nails raking down his back.Â
âYou feel so good,â he grunted and you just moaned in response.
âLook at me, please.â His hand turned your face. âI need to see you.âÂ
Bucky snapped his hips into yours even faster, your walls already clenching tightly around him and he threatened to burst. Your eyes opened and fell to his and Bucky couldnât stop his orgasm from ripping through him anymore. His strokes stuttered, his balls tightened, but he held eye contact with you, searching your hand behind his back to lock your fingers with his.Â
The white pleasure exploded within him, elevated by your own peak hitting with full force. He kissed you then, feeling like he was somewhere between heaven and your living room floor. His mind was consumed by you, his body tingling in aftershocks as he rocked you through your highs.Â
His damp chest fell into yours when you came down. He rolled on his back, taking you with him, pressed deeply into his body, his cock still buried inside you. Buckyâs chest was heaving, the last remnants of pleasure sparkling in his nerves. He kissed your hand and cuddled you closer.Â
This was what he was made for. To be with you, to be consumed by your affection and warmth.Â
He smoothed over your head and felt your lashes flutter on his skin. His heart was blooming with contentment - all the fear heâd felt to commit was miles away, lost somewhere between the Ironbar and your doorstep. There was nothing he was more sure of.Â
âLet me do this right. Let me take you out.â He whispered into your hair with a smile, trying to remember a time heâd ever been this happy.Â
You snorted as your hand gently stroked over his chest. âBucky, youâre literally ballsdeep inside of me right now.â
Bucky chuckled as well, his hand rubbed down your bare back in a soothing motion when he kissed your head. âNothing like a convincing argument, huh.â
𫵠You cant get enough of this character? Go check out the chatbot I made for him! This way you can explore different endlings, plotlines, or just enjoy his company for a while longer đ
You already know your girl couldn't decide which GIF to use. So here are the extra ones:
Woooow, you've made it this far! Thank you so much đ If you have some time to spare, I would reaaaally appreciate some feedback from you. A comment or a reblog can help so much to reach more people and improve writing. Talk to you soon ~Meg đ
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I need more dad Sukuna and mom reader fics / headcsnons, I love the way you wrote for them!!
hey anon thank you! i'm thinking about making this a series, if you guys have any ideas/requests/prompts lmk <3
PICKING UP BABY FROM SCHOOL oops, toddlers can't ride motorcyles! (dad!sukuna x mom!reader)
sukuna rolled up about twenty minutes before his daughter's school got out, deploying the kickstand of his pitch black motorcycle against the rainbow colored fencing. he pulled off his helmet, sighing deeply when he met fresh air again.
his phone buzzed against his thigh. he pulled it out of his tight cargo pocket, answering immediately when he saw your caller ID. "hey, doll."
"you got there okay?" you asked.
"mhm."
"and you're on the right side of the building? that's where her class comes out."
"mhm."
"great." you exhaled. "m'sorry i couldn't make it this timeâ"
"stop." he says gruffly, his phone between his shoulder and ear as he pulls off his gloves. "what are you sorry for, silly girl? you're sick and should rest."
he doesn't mind anything when it comes to his two girls, not the fifteen minute commute to her school or the half hour of waiting just to get a parking spot nice and close to the doors.
your laugh was warbled over the phone. "at least the car is air conditioned. it's been getting warmer lately."
"..." he looked down at his bike.
"ryo, baby?" you hummed.
"hm?"
"you did take the car, right?"
"..."
his silence was all you needed to hear. he tuned out your worried rambling about how the hell is your daughter going to get home on that thing in order to process. toddlers don't usually use motorcycles as a mode of transportation... and he should've thought of this before!
"it'd be fine if i had an extra seat." he mused, debating on how he could manage this situation without having to call you to get them.
"an extra seat?! not even an extra helmet?" you shrieked. "baby, i swear, if you're actually thinking about driving with my baby girl on that thingâ"
"relax, doll," he grumbled, pushing down the traces of embarrassment burning at his ears. "the brat will be fine, s'just a couple blocks away. she can handle the wind."
"..."
the bell rang and the doors swung open, children pouring out of the hallway and buzzing around in search of their parents.
"she's out, we'll see you soon." he was about to hang up when he heard,
"i'm literally about to come get you, do NOT go anywhere."
he frowns, his eyes scouring the crowd of midgets for his kid. he didn't mean to make you so upset and worried. he just... overlooked important details sometimes. not his fault, he's trying his best :(
"y/n, you will sit your ass down in bed. when i come home, you better be laying down exactly how i left you." he warned. he heard your breath hitch. "you trust me, don't you, baby?"
"yes... unfortunately."
he nodded. "we'll be home soon."
"in one piece?"
he rolled his eyes, grumbling. "yes, woman."
"hm." you huffed and hung up.
he strolled into the compound. as soon as he saw those pretty eyes that creased happily when they landed on him, he smiled and crouched down.
she ran over to him, her backpack jostling behind her. she held up a painting she made. "daddy, look!"
"i see." he pulled her closer, holding the backpack off her back and letting her walk off it. he slung the bedazzled bratz backpack over his shoulder, lifting her up in his arms. "what is it?"
"for mama."
"oh. all your crafts seem to be for mama. still nothing for me." he complained with a drawn out sigh.
she rolled her eyes, and he swore he was looking at you for a second.
"don't roll your eyes at me, brat." he scoffed. "who the hell even taught you that?" he muttered under his breath.
sukuna finally stopped in front of his bike. her eyes lit up as her legs started to kick in excitement. she's only ever seen daddy ride off on this thing, now she gets to ride with him?
he swung his leg over the bike, ignoring the mix of distasteful and flirtatious looks thrown at him. "okay, kid." he exhaled, shrugging off his jacket and holding it up to her. "gotta put this on."
she turned up her nose. "stinky."
his jaw dropped open. "i showered before i came to wait half an hour for you, chubby brat. the hell do you think you're talking to?"
she looked at him as if it were obvious.
"you'll put this on now. give me mama's painting, i'll put it in your bag." he said gruffly yet gently slid the painting into her backpack with the utmost care.
the jacket drowned her, the sleeves near triple the length of her arms. sukuna zipped her up and put the helmet on her head.
she started to whine. "stinky." she wailed.
"hush." he hissed, slapping some shades on and holding her towards her chest firmly. with her protected as best as he could with what he had, and with the jeweled backpack strapped to his back, he began to roll out into the road.
that drive home was the longest thirty minutes of his life. he had never drove so slow before.
you were waiting by the front door, running down to meet them as your husband pulled into the driveway.
"oh my god oh my god," you ripped your baby from his arms, tossing the helmet off her head. "are you okay, baby?" you smoothed away the sweaty hair from her face, your lips pursing when you hear her sniffles.
"my poor baby. daddy's never gonna pick you up again, don't you worry." you peppered her face with kisses.
sukuna caught the helmet before it crashed to the ground, walking behind you with his hands in his pockets. he kissed your temple as he leaned over your shoulder to peer down at his daughter. "daddy didn't do so bad."
you glare at him, cradling your daughter's head against your chest. you whirl away and storm into the house.
he sighed.
after many apologetic kisses and a good amount of groveling, you let him do pick-ups and drop-offs again. though you made sure to watch him get into the car before he drove off.
Š miniimight ! thanks for reading <3
#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna x reader#sukuna fluff#jjk sukuna#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#ryomen sukuna x reader#jjk comfort#dad sukuna#sukuna#jujutsu sukuna#sukuna ryomen#jjk x you#ryomen x reader#ryoumen sukuna
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Period Trouble
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader
Warnings: swearing, nothing else i think?
Summary: you wake up with your period and are forced to go on a mission with Logan of all people
Word count: 2.4k
A/N: literally obsessed with this man rn so ofc i had to write about him. also wolverine has enhanced senses including smell but its likeâŚ. barely shown in the movies so i had to search it up to be sure, and some part of me still doubts it but for the purposes of this fic he does have it
You woke up with a groan, immediately curling into a ball. You were early. You were early and you hadnât emotionally or physically prepared for having your period today, yet the world seemed ready to punish you, burdening you with an early cycle.
You checked the time, cursing every god and deity you knew when you realised you were supposed to have woken up half an hour ago. Wincing, you got up, your body screaming at the movement. Already your stomach was aching, the ghosts of cramps to come caressing your body.Â
There was knocking at your door, quiet yet firm. You already knew it was Storm on the other side of the door, no doubt in search of a reason why you failed to get up on time. It was going to be a long day.
You yelled out to Storm, promising to be out in five minutes, and got up, groggily looking for your clothes. When youâd tamed your hair and brushed your teeth, you exited your room to find Storm waiting on the other side, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.
She took one look at you and sighed. âWhat are you wearing?â
You looked down perplexed. â....my clothes?â
She raised her eyebrow. âYouâre on a mission today, remember?â
Fuck. You nearly let out a whine. You were not in the mood to go skulking around doing Xavierâs bidding when you had a constant throbbing pain assaulting your stomach, unreasonable mood swings, and exhaustion weighing you down.
Storm sent you a questioning look. âYou up for this?â
The mission was nothing big. Professor X needed you to collect some sort of rare herb that had recently been shipped into the nearest city, something he needed to complete a super secret experiment you werenât privy to. Heâd just asked for help and youâd volunteered.
Oh how you regretted that decision now.
âYeah Iâm fine,â you muttered. âLet me just get changed real quick.â
Getting into your previously decided upon outfit, a plain inconspicuous one intended to blend in, you left your room again, this time with no complaint from Storm. Your stomach gave an uncomfortable clench and you sighed, making a mental note to find some nurofen before leaving for the mission.
âWhy arenât you in your outfit?â you asked, just realising Storm wasnât wearing what you two had agreed upon yesterday.
She winced slightly. âCanât go. Filling in for some classes.â
Your face soured but you tried not to hold it against her. Storm loved her students, and given the choice of helping them or Xavier with a low level mission, sheâd obviously choose her kids. You couldnât blame her exactly, but it meant youâd have to go on this mission alone, while not impossible by any means it would make it slightly more difficult.
You sighed. âThatâs okay. I can go alone.â
When Storm winced even more your eyes narrowed in suspicion, following her with caution. âStormâŚ..â
She sighed guiltily. âXavier didnât want you to go alone. The herbâs too valuable.â
You tilted your head slightly as you entered the houseâs foyer. âSo who am I going with then?â
Stormâs eyes darted ahead, and you followed her gaze to find Logan Howlett leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He smirked at you, âyouâre looking at him sweetheart.â
You resisted the urge to groan, instead sending Storm a dirty look. You didnât necessarily dislike Logan, but he was a lot to deal with, and you were already tired from your day that had barely begun.
You couldnât say all that with Logan standing there however, so you muttered a, âlovely,â and walked past the man to the garage.
He followed you silently, no quip or smart ass comment which was strange for him. Youâd just entered the garage, heading towards one of the cars, when you glanced back at him and found Logan stopped in the doorway, staring at you with a frown on his face. Or rather, a deeper frown than usual.
âWhat is it?â you asked him, standing at the hood of the car.
Loganâs eyes roved your body, searching for something. âYouâre injured.â
It was your turn to frown. âWhat? No Iâm not.â
He took a step forward, almost as if he was planning on looking for your alleged injury himself. âDonât bullshit me Y/n, I can smell your blood.â
You made a face. âWhat are you talking aboutâŚ..â you trailed off when you realised it, perhaps the most mortifying moment in your life.
Logan could smell your period blood. He thought you were bleeding from an injury.Â
You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up. âIâm fine. Letâs go.â
He scoffed, walking towards you until you were face to face. You tried to step back and felt the hood of the car against your legs. âI can smell the fucking blood seeping out of you Y/n. I wouldnât call that fine.â
You gritted your teeth to stop yourself from snapping at him. âI can assure you, I am not injured.â
You moved to walk past him but he caught your wrist, forcing you back into your position pressed against the car. âIf you think I am going on this mission with you while youâre wounded, youâre out of your mind.â
âIâm not-â
âDo you think Iâm an idiot darl? Is that why youâre denying being hurt while I can literally smell it on you-â
You cut him off. âIâm on my period, Logan.â
He paused, staring at you with an indecipherable expression on his face. You waited for him to speak, feeling embarrassed and furious about it. Why should you be embarrassed of your period? He was the one who was pushing you, prodding you, forcing you to tell him the source of the bleeding. If your answer made him uncomfortable, that wasnât your fault nor your concern.
Eventually he spoke. âAlright then. Get in the car. Iâm driving.â
You scowled at him. âSays who?â
He didnât even bother looking at you, already in the driverâs seat. âSays me.â
You sighed but didnât argue further, silently getting into the passenger seat. Logan started the car, reversing it out of the garage and driving down the long winding driveway till you got to the street.
âItâs an hour's drive to the city, give or take,â you told Logan, setting the GPS up on the car.
Logan barely glanced at it, eyes on the road, a firm grip on the steering wheel. He didnât even respond to you. You sighed and turned away, looking out the window as the scenery passed you in flashes.
As the drive continued, you noticed Logan sending you glances every now and then. If you really focused on them, youâd almost say they seemed worried, concerned even, but they were always too quick for you to tell for certain. You were too preoccupied with your cramps that had started up anyway, and the lack of nurofen youâd forgotten to grab.
Finally, you arrived at the city, driving into the hustle and bustle of the crowded area. Loganâs hand tightened on the steering wheel, obviously not a fan of the traffic the city provided. You watched the stream of people through the window as Logan looked for a space to park, muttering under his breath.
You were mildly entertained at the amount of road rage he had, cursing every car that wasnât at least 10 metres over the speed limit. His jaw was clenched, hand fisting the steering wheel, yet he still looked at you here and there, like you were actually wounded.
When he eventually found a parking spot the two of you got out of the car and you looked at the address Xavier gave you.
âShould be somewhere along this street,â you murmured, eyes flicking from the piece of paper to the busy street.
Logan moved behind you, so close you could feel your back against his chest, and looked at the paper in your hand. He let out a grunt and moved past you, walking forwards. You frowned and hurried your pace, not wanting to lose him amidst the crowd of people.
Luck was certainly not your side, because soon enough youâd lost him, unable to see his black leather jacket in the throng of people. You hesitated, wondering if you should look for him or just go straight to the address, when you felt an arm around your waist.
âStay close to me,â Logan murmured into your war, his voice gravelly. âDonât wanna lose you again.â
You glanced at him as he continued walking, not moving his arm from your waist. âHowâd you find me?â
He gave you a smirk. âFollowed the smell of blood.â
Again you felt your cheeks heat but you glared at him defiantly, refusing to be embarrassed. He smirked at you, flashing his teeth, as you arrived in front of the address, a plain building home to some sort of florist.Â
Logan finally took his hand from your waist, walking to the door with you trailing behind him. A bell gave a little jingle as you entered, and you were immediately assaulted with the smell of flowers. Different sorts of plants took up every corner of the room and Loganâs face soured as he looked around, obviously not pleased with the environment.
An old woman sat behind a desk, watering a plant with a mini watering can. You walked up to her, Logan hot on your heels. When you stopped in front of the desk Logan was so close behind you you could actually feel his chest against your back.
âMrs May?â you asked.
The old woman looked at you with a smile, her eyes crinkling. âThatâs me. What can I help you two lovebirds with? Bouquet of roses? Lilies?â
You opened your mouth, surprised, and tried to find something to say. Being mistaken for a couple shouldnât have affected you so much, especially while on a mission, but you were flustered and could still feel Loganâs chest right against your back, his warmth almost dizzying.
âWeâre not here for flowers unfortunately,â Logan spoke, saving you. Except why didnât he specify you werenât a couple? Did that not matter to him, what some old lady thought, or did he enjoy the idea of being thought of as your boyfriend?
Oh god. What were you thinking? Stupid period hormones.Â
The old lady looked at you two curiously. âThen how can I help you?â
There was a pointed silence and you realised Logan was waiting for you to speak. You cleared your throat and spoke the random sequence of words Xavier had you memorise, that would inform Mrs May just what type of buyers you were.
The womanâs eyes lit up with recognition and she nodded her head slowly. âAh, yes, let me just go to the storage room quickly, Iâll be backâŚ.â
Mrs May tottered around the desk and through a side door, half hidden behind the multitude of plants covering the area, leaving you alone with Logan.
You took a step away from him and turned around to look at him, finding him staring at you with a frown on his face.
You frowned back at him. âWhatâs up with you today?â
He raised his eyebrows at you. âWhat is up with me? I donât know if youâve noticed Darl but you havenât exactly been up to par yourself.â
You rolled your eyes at his words. âThatâs not what I meant, and besides, Iâm on my period.â
Logan stared at you, arms crossed. âWhat did ya mean then?â
âYouâve been acting strange. Less talkative and annoying like usual.â
Logan snorted. âEver the lady.â
âIâm serious. Whatâs up with you?â
Logan sighed and took a step forward until he was towering over you and you had to crane your head up to look at him. âYou are whatâs up. I can constantly smell you bleeding, and I canât get it out of my mind that it means youâre hurt. Youâre driving me crazy sweetheart.â
WellâŚ. That certainly wasnât what you were expecting. Logan smirked down at you as if he knew that, and enjoyed surprising you. You cleared your throat as your eyes darted to the floor. âWell, thatâs hardly my fault.â
Logan chuckled. âNot your fault no, but it is your doing whether you mean to or not.â
You swallowed, looking back up at him. âWellâŚ. Donât you constantly smell when people are on their periods?â
âItâs different with you. Smelling your blood just drives me crazy, plain and simple. Canât get the instinct out of my head that blood means injury.â
The way Logan was admitting all of this, with such calm, made you think heâd been wanting to say this for a while. The unspoken confession was there, and it was up to you to decide what to do with it.
âIâm glad you care,â was what you landed on, unsure of what else to say.
Logan chuckled again, one hand snaking to your waist. âI do a lot more than care, Y/n.â
You smiled softly, looking up at him. With his other hand he brushed your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The sound of a door closing brought you out of your little bubble and you took a step back, Logan reluctantly letting go of your waist.
Mrs May, either not having seen you two or graciously deciding to ignore it, passed you a package, informing you the herb and all information involving it was inside, and to handle it with care. You nodded and thanked the old woman before exiting the building, Logan again right on your heels.
As soon as the shopâs door closed behind you Loganâs hand was back around your waist. âNot losing you this time.â
You tried not to smile, though internally you were grinning like a maniac, and let Logan lead the two of you back to the car. You didnât even get to argue your case of driving this time, Logan already in the driverâs seat. You sighed and got into the passenger seat, resigning yourself to another hour of silence as Logan started driving, when you felt his hand on your thigh.
You looked at him but he didnât say anything, just gave it a light squeeze as he kept his eyes on the road. You looked away, grinning. So maybe the world didnât have it out for you after all.
#wolverine#logan howlett#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x reader#xmen#x-men#xmen movie#xmen movies#x men movies#marvel#hugh jackman#james logan howlett#james howlett#x men#xavier#charles xavier
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(đ˘đâđŹ đ§đ¨đ đĽđ˘đ¤đ) đĄđâđŹ đŚđ˛ đđ¨đ˛đđŤđ˘đđ§đ | đŹđđđŻđ đĄđđŤđŤđ˘đ§đ đđ¨đ§
Steve hears you wrong, thinks heâs your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you canât anymore. 3k, fem. requested here âĄÂ
cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff sceneÂ
ËĘâĄÉË
The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. Youâre lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steveâs hand behind your shoulder, youâre pretty sure you wouldâve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago.Â
A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch.Â
âWe can leave,â Steve says immediately. Heâs weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but heâs always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you.Â
âI wanna see Max.âÂ
âShe has to be here somewhere.âÂ
That theory proves less and less likely. Steveâs hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. âMaybe she quit?â you suggest.Â
Steveâs eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Maxâs rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ârough patchâ is a kind way to describe it. She couldâve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. Itâs nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isnât actually settling in. Thatâs the whole reason youâre here.Â
Steve frowns at you worriedly.Â
âWho died?â asks a new voice.
You breathe out a sigh of relief. âMax!â Steve cheers.Â
âThatâs me,â Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips.Â
âHey, the uniform looks good on you,â he says affectionately. âYou look like a valued member of society.â
âA society in need of better labour laws. Iâm pretty sure this is child abuse.â She rolls her eyes.Â
âIs it awful?â you ask.Â
âItâs fine. Better when your stupid friends arenât here making themselves sick on candy like theyâre nine years old,â she says pointedly to Steve. âAre you going to throw up too? You lookââ she grimaces in place of insult.Â
âWhoâs throwing up?â you ask.Â
âDustin. Heâs outside.âÂ
Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. âIâll be right back,â he says, squaring his expression. âGoddamn kids.âÂ
He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyoneâs alright. Heâs nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes.Â
âWhy are you smiling at him like that?â Max asks.
You school your impression. âLike what?âÂ
âLike you like him.âÂ
You shake your head. âTell me about work, Max. Whatâs it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?âÂ
She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isnât hard, itâs just a job. Sheâd much rather be at home reading, but wouldnât everyone? âAnd I get this sweet uniform,â she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. âWhatâs with you and Steve?âÂ
âNothing,â you say, though itâs something. Youâre mortified to have been caught having feelings.Â
âLooks like something. Are you dating?âÂ
âI mean, this is a date,â you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. âBut weâre not together.âÂ
âHe was touching you a lot.âÂ
âMax, heâs really nice. Heâs a really nice guy,â you say gently, âand weâre not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe Iâll say yes.â You realise what youâre saying and attempt to backtrack âyou do like Steve, but Max doesnât need to know that. âItâs not like heâs my boyfriend,â you say strangely.Â
âEw,â Max says with a laugh.Â
âNot ew,â you correct. You hadnât meant it in a bad way, itâsâÂ
âNot ew,â Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder.Â
You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug.Â
âWhatâs ew about that?â he asks you softly.Â
Oh, boy, you think.Â
As it turns out, being Steveâs girlfriend is kind of nice, but you arenât ready.
From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like youâre made of gold. And itâs great, heâs so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasnât got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. Youâd get that. You have your moments with him, youâre falling for him, and itâs only a matter of time before youâre desperately in love, youâre sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, âJust a water for my girl,â and you realise youâre not getting off easy.Â
Dating is sort of like being good friends; youâd planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. Itâs clear heâs eager, optioning off the dayâs agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet.Â
âWe could go to the movies,â he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. âNo science fiction, I promise.âÂ
âI kind of like sci-fi.â Petals press fragrant to your top lip.
âWell, we donât have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet theyâre playing any movie you wanna see.â He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driverâs side and practically throwing himself inside. Heâs giggling like a kid. âShit, Iâll see anything you want to.âÂ
âSteve.âÂ
âOr we can go do nothing? Until dinner.âÂ
âSteve,â you say again, thinking youâll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty.Â
âWhat?â he asks.Â
His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear youâve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smilesÂ
You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. âNothing. Letâs go see a movie.âÂ
âAre you okay?âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
âWhat do you mean, what? You sounded weird.âÂ
âI sounded weird?âÂ
âNo!â He winces. âI mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you⌠I donât know. Sorry.âÂ
You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it.Â
âI wanna go to the movies,â you say, âcos you really do.Â
âAlright, good. Itâs just, I think my last relationship, Iâ I didnât pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.âÂ
Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? Youâre gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesnât deserve to have his heart played with twice.Â
âDonât be sorry,â you say gently. âLetâs go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, weâll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. Itâll be fun.âÂ
You arenât lying to him about what you want. Itâs clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend wonât even be that different to being his something.Â
After all, whatâs romantic about seeing a movie?Â
âYou good?â he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged.Â
Youâre at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews.Â
âSteve,â you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way.Â
He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. âWhat?â he asks, amused.Â
âYou were in the way of the light.âÂ
âThat what it was?â
âSeriously!â you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself.Â
âYouâre so cute,â he whispers back. âWant to take your jacket off?âÂ
Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. âHowâs that, babe?â he asks.Â
âItâs good.âÂ
âOkay, perfect.â He beams at you. Heâs always smiling when heâs with you, like youâre the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. âTell me if you need something, yeah? I know youâre kinda shy.âÂ
He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. âThatâs us,â he says without looking at you.Â
Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise!Â
You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, youâre overwhelmed, too. You arenât ready for so much sweetness all at once. You donât deserve it, he doesnât deserve this.Â
You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steveâs breathing.Â
He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs.Â
You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes.Â
âYou okay?â he whispers.Â
You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat âyou canât hold it in anymore. Itâs too much.Â
âIâm sorry,â you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek.Â
Steve sits still in moderate horror. âWhy are you crying?â he whispers.
The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, heâs really young. He doesnât always know what to do. He stares at you now like youâre a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen.Â
A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. âSorry,â you say.Â
âWhy?â he asks, dumbfounded.
âI really like you, Steve.âÂ
He stares at you. ââŚBut?â
âBut Iââ His frown hurts your heart. âI donât know if Iâm ready for all of this, I neverâ never had someone like me like this, I donât know why Iâm crying.â You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. âItâs not you.âÂ
âI thoughtâŚâ And of course he did.Â
âI know,â you say. âIâm sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldnât matter but everythingâs going so fast.âÂ
He touches your arm gently. âIâm sorry,â he says. âI thought you wanted this. Youâ you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.âÂ
âI do like you,â you insist, meeting his eyes.Â
âCan I wipe your tears away? Theyâre everywhere,â he says. You struggle to read his expression, but thereâs no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious.Â
âYeah.âÂ
Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. âI donât understand,â he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, âbut you donât have to be upset. Please. I wonât do anything you donât want me to do, I promise.âÂ
âSteve, when I was talking to Max, I said,â âyou winceâ âthat itâs not like youâre my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but Iâm too weird about this stuff, Iâm panicking nowââ
âDonât.â His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether.Â
âI didnât mean for this to happen. Please believe me.âÂ
âOf course I believe you.â He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like heâs brushing himself off. âIâm sorry. For getting the wrong idea.âÂ
âI like you,â you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks.Â
âI like you too!â he says loudly.Â
A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. âCan you guys shut up?âÂ
You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because heâs the one who should be upset (or maybe heâs not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again.Â
âYou okay?â he asks tightly.Â
âIâm sorry.â
He pokes his cheek with his tongue. âSo you donât want to be together?âÂ
You donât know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. âI do, I like you, but I⌠I want to take things slowly.âÂ
He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, heâs laughing, that achy awful sadness heâd worn a far off memory. âYouâre this upset because you want us to take things slow?âÂ
âI didnât want to hurt your feelings.âÂ
âYou havenât,â he promises. âThat would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.â He scratches the back of his neck. âI guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that⌠cool?âÂ
You nod vehemently.Â
Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. âI thought I was gonna lose you completely,â he says, smiling. âThis is fine. I can work with slow. Slowâs my middle name.â
ââĄâ
The sun is a blistering heat today. âCanât believe itâs only spring,â you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm.Â
A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.
âI think I might melt.âÂ
âIâd never let that happen,â Steve says, laying down beside you.Â
âYou can be my parasol.âÂ
âYour what?âÂ
âItâs a sun umbrella.âÂ
âLike this?â he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach thatâs bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up.Â
You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. âThanks,â you say.
He kisses your naked leg. âYouâre welcome, honey.âÂ
If heâd done that at the beginning of your relationship, youâd have frozen up; not because he wouldâve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and thatâs okay.Â
âYour face is digging into my hip,â you murmur.Â
He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. âIs that better?âÂ
âThatâs perfect.âÂ
âAre you falling asleep?â he asks softly.Â
âNo⌠Iâm thinking.âÂ
âNothing good ever comes of that.âÂ
âI have something I want to talk to you about.â
âI love talking to you,â he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth.Â
You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You arenât scared to tell him how youâre feeling. Heâs proved to you over time that heâs someone youâll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight.Â
âItâs a question.âÂ
He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world.Â
âDonât tell me then,â he says, rolling his eyes. âJesus, youâre terrifying.âÂ
âWould you wanna be my boyfriend?â
He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until heâs smiling, and you know heâs sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. âBaby,â he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, âI think weâve passed that point.âÂ
âI realised Iâd never asked you, is all.âÂ
His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. Itâs pretty clear now youâre together, even after such a bumpy start.Â
âCan I get it in writing this time?â he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem.Â
âGive you anything you want if you kiss me,â you murmur.Â
His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it.Â
You tip your head aside to catch your breath.
âBetter late than never,â you joke.Â
Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. âYou werenât late, babe. I was early, and I didnât mind waiting.âÂ
ËĘâĄÉË
thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyedâ¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#stranger things#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x fem#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington drabble
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The Marriage Bet
Pairings: Best Friend Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Themes: A bet. A bit of comedy but mostly fluff and Bucky treating his woman right ;)
Summary: If in three years time both of you were still single, you will marry your best friend, Bucky. That's the bet.
A/N: For those of you who voted for 'Calm Down, Dad Mode' I've added it to this story. This has got to be my favorite fluff FML. Also let me TELL YOU, the cravings in pregnancy and the emotions are real because I lived it lmao. PART 2
Three Years Ago
"You know what we should do?â Bucky said out of the blue, his gaze fixed on you with a seriousness that made your stomach flip. The two of you had been lounging on his couch for hours, talking about everything and nothing. It was a lazy night filled with laughter, shared memories, and the kind of comfortable silence only you and Bucky knew how to savour.
You glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. âWhat?â
âIf weâre still single in three years⌠letâs get married,â he announced, as if it was the most logical suggestion in the world. His tone was light, but there was a quiet intensity in his eyes that made it clear he wasnât joking.
You stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge if he was serious. âBucky, have you lost your mind?â
âMaybe,â he admitted with a shrug, his lips twitching up into that familiar smirk that made your heart skip. âBut think about it. No more crappy dates, no more getting your heart broken by idiots who donât deserve you. Just us. You and me. We already know each otherâs worst habits, and we get along. Itâd be a good marriage.â
You scoffed, shaking your head. âYou make it sound like weâre signing up for a business merger.â
He laughed at that, the sound deep and genuine. âMaybe. But at least youâd know youâre stuck with someone whoâs never going to walk out on you. Someone whoâd fight for you.â
The way he said it made your throat tighten, and for a second, you allowed yourself to picture it. A life with Bucky, the two of you navigating the ups and downs together. No more failed relationships, no more loneliness. Just the comfort and security of someone who knew you better than anyone else.
âYouâre serious, arenât you?â you murmured, still stunned by the idea.
He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. âYeah, I am. So, what do you say?â
You hesitated for just a beat, then broke into a grin. âDeal, Barnes. If weâre still single in three years, Iâll marry your crazy ass.â
He grinned back, his hand shooting out to seal the promise with a firm handshake. But as your fingers clasped around his, the energy between you shifted â playful and yet, inexplicably serious.
âDeal,â he echoed softly, a knowing look in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine.
Ă Ă Ă ĂÂ
Present
You leaned against the railing of the rooftop, your eyes skimming over the city lights below as the faint notes of Taylor Swiftâs break-up songs filled the air. You and Bucky had been up here for hours, talking and drinking, the night air crisp against your skin.
It had been a rough few months for you â the breakup still felt fresh, the sting of rejection and disappointment lingering. But being here with Bucky made it easier. He had a way of grounding you, of making you feel like everything would be okay, even when it didnât seem that way.
âYâknow, youâre the best,â you murmured, your words slurred slightly from the champagne. âI mean it, Buck. I donât know what Iâd do without you.â
He smiled softly, his gaze warm as he watched you. âGood thing you donât have to find out, huh?â
You nodded, letting out a sigh as you turned back to the view. âStill, I feel like⌠I donât know. Like Iâm destined to be alone or something.â
âThatâs not true,â he said quietly, setting his glass down and turning to face you fully. âAnd you know it.â
You shrugged, glancing over at him. âYeah, well, sometimes it feels like it. Everyone Iâve ever dated justââ
You stopped mid-sentence as Bucky suddenly shifted, reaching into his pocket. Your eyes widened as he pulled out a small blue velvet box and, without hesitation, flipped it open. The soft light of the rooftop glinted off the 1.5-carat diamond ring nestled inside â simple, elegant, and undeniably breathtaking.Â
âWhatâs that?â you asked, your breath catching in your throat.
Bucky arched an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look. âAn engagement ring, Y/N. What else?â
âYeah, I know itâs a ring!â you sputtered, your mind reeling. âBut whyâhowâwhat are you doing with it?â
Bucky sighed, muttering under his breath, âFor someone so smart, she really canât see whatâs right in front of her.â
You barely had time to process the words before he got up from his sitting position and slowly knelt down on one knee. The movement made your heart jump into your throat, your breath hitching as he looked up at you, his eyes softer than youâd ever seen them.
âI want to marry you, Y/N,â he said, his voice firm and sure. âNot because of some bet or joke we made all those years ago, but because⌠I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be the one you come home to. The one who makes you laugh when youâre sad. The one who fights for you.â
You felt your chest tighten as the weight of his words sank in, the sincerity in his voice making it almost impossible to breathe. âBucky⌠this isââ
âI know this is crazy,â he continued, cutting you off gently, his gaze never leaving yours. âBut when have we ever been normal, huh? Iâm not asking you to feel something you donât or to change anything between us. But I am a man of my word, and Iâm keeping the promise we made.â
Your mind raced, memories of that night flashing through your mind â the promise, the shared laughter, the way heâd looked at you back then as if you were the only thing that mattered. And now, here he was, years later, kneeling in front of you with an engagement ring, ready to turn that promise into something real.
He took a deep breath, his hand trembling slightly as he held out the ring, his expression almost pleading. âSo⌠will you marry me? Not because you feel like you have to, but because you want to?â
You stared down at him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. The world seemed to fade away, the only thing anchoring you being his blue eyes, filled with nothing but hope and determination.
âWell? Say something, sweetheart,â he murmured, his voice barely a whisper now. âBecause Iâm dying here.â
You let out a breathless laugh, the tears welling in your eyes spilling over as you shook your head in disbelief.Â
âYouâre really going all out, huh?â you teased, âGetting down on one knee and everything⌠how could I say no to a man with such dedication?â
Bucky blinked, caught off guard, and then let out a soft laugh of his own. âIs that a yes, or are you just stalling to make me sweat more?â
You glanced at the ring, then back at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. âI guess⌠if I have to be stuck with someone for the rest of my life⌠it might as well be you.â
âYes,â you added quickly, your smile widening as you looked at him with all the warmth and affection you felt. âOf course itâs a yes, you idiot!â
Relief washed over his face, his grin so wide it couldâve lit up the entire rooftop. âYou really know how to keep a guy on edge, donât you?â
âGotta keep things interesting,â you replied with a laugh, reaching out to brush your fingers against his cheek. âI canât make it too easy for you.â
His chuckle was deep and genuine, the tension melting from his shoulders as he slipped the ring onto your finger, his eyes never leaving yours. âYou can be so mean you know that?â
âMean?â you scoffed, giving him a playful look of disbelief. âYouâre proposing to me, remember? Iâm just making sure you know exactly what youâre getting yourself into.â
Bucky shook his head, laughter bubbling up in his chest. âOh, I know. And Iâm still all in, even if you make me work for it.â
You grinned, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Bucky didnât hesitate, his arms coming up to hold you close, his chin resting gently on top of your head. The warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.
Slowly, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your chin resting on his chest as your eyes locked with his. The sound of the music drifted softly through the air, wrapping around you both like an embrace.
You could see the tenderness in his gaze, the way his eyes softened as he looked down at you. There was something indescribable in the way he held you, his hands warm and secure against your back, as if he never wanted to let go.
âYou know,â you murmured softly, a small smile playing on your lips, âI completely forgot about that bet.â
Buckyâs lips quirked up at the corners as he started to sway gently, rocking you both back and forth in time with the music.Â
âYeah? Good thing I havenât.â he agreed quietly, his voice low and filled with something that made your heart flutter.
You let out a content sigh, closing your eyes for a moment as you swayed together under the soft glow of the rooftop lights, the melody of the song weaving its way into your soul. There was a peace, a sense of rightness in the way his hands rested on your waist, the way your fingers curled into his shirt.
Opening your eyes, you tilted your head slightly, the corners of your lips curving up into a playful smile. âIâm really going to make you regret this, you know.â
He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing gently against your side as he gazed down at you. âDoubt it. But youâre welcome to try, sweetheartâI mean what else could I possibly not know about you?â
Your smile widened as you looked up at him, chin resting on his chest. âOh, youâll find out. Just because weâre getting married doesnât mean Iâm not full of surprises.â
Buckyâs eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned down slightly, his lips brushing against your temple. âGood. I wouldnât want it any other way.â
âJust remember you asked for it,â you teased, your voice soft as your fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt. âYouâre the one whoâs committing to a lifetime of never quite knowing what Iâll do next.â
âYeah?â he murmured, his gaze dipping to your lips before meeting your eyes again, a smile playing on his own. âI guess I like keeping things interesting, too.â
A laugh bubbled up in your chest, and you felt the tension melt away as you both swayed gently to the music. It felt like a new beginning â a promise that whatever came next, youâd be facing it together.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
A few months later.
The garden was alive with soft laughter and murmurs as the afternoon sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves. The air was filled with the delicate scent of roses and jasmine, and the gentle rustling of leaves provided the perfect backdrop for the small, intimate gathering of friends.
Bucky stood under the floral archway, his suit somehow both perfectly fitted and slightly askew in that way only Bucky could pull off. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers drumming absently on his thigh. When you turned the corner, your eyes met his, and you couldnât help but smile at the exaggerated sigh of relief he let out.
âThank God you showed up,â he teased, his voice carrying over the gentle breeze. âThought Iâd have to marry Sam instead.â
You laughed, rolling your eyes as you made your way down the short aisle, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered in your chest. âYeah, yeah, keep it up, Barnes. Heâd leave you at the altar, you know.â
Bucky grinned, his shoulders relaxing as you stepped up to him. âTrue. He couldnât handle my morning breath.â
The officiant cleared his throat gently, drawing soft chuckles from your friends. Buckyâs gaze stayed locked on yours, a playful twinkle in his eyes as if you were sharing a private joke no one else could understand.
âYou ready for this?â he murmured softly, his tone light but his smile genuine.
âReady as Iâll ever be,â you replied, giving him a small nod.
The ceremony was simple and sweet, with your closest friends standing in a loose circle around you, their smiles reflecting the joy and camaraderie that had always defined your relationship with Bucky.Â
When it came time for the vows, Bucky cleared his throat dramatically, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket.
âIâm not good at this stuff,â he began, waving the paper around, âso I wrote it down. Just so I donât forget the important parts. Like promising I wonât eat your fries without asking.â
You let out a snort, shaking your head. âSo thatâs why youâre marrying me? For my fries?â
âPartly,â Bucky said with a wink, earning a few laughs from your friends. âBut seriously⌠I promise to always be your partner in crime. To watch bad movies with you, to be your go-to plus-one for all those events you hate, and to be the one you can call at 3 a.m. when the world feels like too much.â
His voice softened slightly, his gaze never wavering from yours. âI promise to be your best friend, to listen, and to support you. And yeah, to not eat your fries â unless youâre not looking.â
You chuckled, blinking back the unexpected prickle of tears. âDamn, Barnes. Setting the bar high for husband material, arenât you?â
âSomeoneâs gotta do it,â he replied with a smirk.
When it was your turn, you took a deep breath, glancing down at your own slightly crumpled paper. âBucky, I promise to keep being your reality check, to make sure you donât take yourself too seriously. I promise to help you with your crazy woodworking projects, even when you refuse to read the instructions. And I promise to be your partner in all things â the weird, the good, and the unpredictable.â
Buckyâs grin softened into a small, genuine smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. âI think weâre gonna be pretty good at this whole marriage thing.â
âI think so too,â you murmured back.
The officiantâs voice broke through the quiet moment, his smile warm. âBy the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Bucky, you may nowââ
âWait,â Bucky interrupted, holding up a hand as he turned to you, his expression half-serious, half-teasing. âCan I kiss you?â
You blinked, surprised. âWhat?â
âYou know,â he said, shrugging a shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. âThis is technically our first kiss. I want to get it right. So⌠how do you like it?â
A burst of laughter escaped you, the tension in your shoulders melting away as the sheer Bucky-ness of the question made you grin. âYouâre unbelievable, you know that?â
âCome on, humor me,â he pressed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. âSlow? Gentle? Or should I just go for it?â
You shook your head, still laughing softly. âJust⌠kiss me, you goof.â
Bucky grinned, his eyes twinkling with affection. âAlright, Mrs. Barnes,â he said softly, leaning in. âIâll make it good.â
His grin widened and shifts a little closer to you, Bucky dipped his head and you felt your noses brush. His breath is on your lips, and you quiver a bit at the odd sensation. Without another moment to spare you realise that he's pressing his lips to yoursâit was nothing like youâd expected. His hand slipped to the small of your back, drawing you closer, his eyes fully closed. Bucky was concentrating on the kiss, and you realised that your eyes were wide open. Slowly you close them, hiding away your brilliant orbs.Â
Buckyâs lips are oddly doft in this kiss and it stays slow and sweet. He wrapped his arm around you more, lifting you slightly off your feet. The veil fluttered around you like a soft cocoon, and then everything disappeared as his mouth moved insync with you, his kiss remained slowly, his mouth molding against yours in a way that made your knees weak.
His fingers gently tangled in your hair, his thumb brushing softly along your cheekbone as if he couldnât bear to stop touching you.
But then he shifted, tilting your head just slightly as he deepened the kiss, his hold around you tightening. It was then that you felt him let go completely â every barrier, every wall heâd kept up around himself crumbling as he poured everything into that kiss.Â
Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the faint cheers and whistles of your friendsâSam being the most obnoxiousâbut it all felt like background noise. It was just you and Bucky, wrapped up in this kiss that felt like it had been building up for years. His lips slid over yours with a kind of sweet intensity, a silent confession of everything he hadnât said â of everything he didnât know how to say.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting gently against yours, both of you were breathless, hearts pounding in unison. He didnât let go, his arms still wrapped around you as if you might disappear if he loosened his grip.
A soft cheer went up from your friendsâSam being the most obviousâ and Buckyâs grin turned almost smug. âHow was that?â
You let out a shaky laugh, your hands clutching his shoulders as you tried to steady yourself. âYeah, Buck. I think you got it just right.â
âGood,â he murmured, his eyes searching yours for a long, lingering moment before his smile widened into something boyish and relieved. âJust wanted to make sure.â
âDonât worry,â you teased gently, brushing your thumb over his cheek. âYouâre not getting rid of me after a kiss like that.â
Buckyâs laugh was soft, his nose brushing against yours. âGuess I should keep practicing, huh?â
You nodded, your grin matching his. âYeah. Keep practicing, Barnes.â
And as he pulled you in for another kiss, slower and just as sweet as the first, you knew that this â all of this â was exactly how it was meant to be.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
1.5 years later
You were pacing back and forth in the bathroom, your heart hammering in your chest. Every few seconds, your eyes would dart to the three little sticks sitting ominously on the edge of the sink â three white, plastic harbingers of potential chaos.
âCome on, come on, come on,â you whispered frantically to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as if willing the tests to disappear â or at least show some clarity.
How did it come to this? You were supposed to be life partners â partners in crime, best friends â no strings attached, no expectations. Just two people who promised to be there for each other. Sure, you got married, but it was all because of the bet. A way to keep each other from loneliness, you both said. Nothing more, right?
Except somewhere along the line, late-night talks had turned into stolen kisses. Comforting hugs had turned into tangled limbs. And now⌠this.
âOh my god, heâs going to flip,â you muttered, running a hand through your hair as you stared at the still-blank screens on the tests. âThis isnât how we were supposed toââ
âSupposed to what?â
You jumped about a foot in the air, letting out a small squeak of surprise as Buckyâs voice filled the bathroom. You whipped around, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as you spotted him leaning casually against the doorframe, an amused smirk on his lips.
âBucky! Donâtâdonât just sneak up on people like that!â you stammered, instinctively shuffling over to the sink to block his view.
His smirk widened. âI didnât sneak. Youâre just too distracted, sweetheart.â He pushed off the doorframe, crossing his arms as he stepped closer. âWhatâs going on in here?â
âNothing!â you squeaked, your voice a little too high-pitched.
Buckyâs eyebrows shot up. âUh-huh. So, youâre just hanging out in the bathroom, talking to yourself?â
âYes!â you answered quickly, nodding like a bobblehead. âYep, just a totally normal conversation with⌠myself. Very productive.â
He eyed you, suspicion etched all over his face. âUh-huh. And why do you look like youâve seen a ghost?â
âI donât!â you lied, crossing your arms over your chest as if that could somehow shield you from his scrutiny.
Bucky took another step closer, his gaze flicking over your shoulder. âThen why are you standing like that?â
You moved subtly, trying to casually scoot to the left, but your back hit the edge of the sink. âLike what?â
âLike youâre hiding something,â he said, leaning down slightly to look your directly in the eyes. âWhatâs behind you, Y/N?â
âNothing!â you insisted, but your hand twitched involuntarily, knocking into one of the sticks. It clattered onto the counter, bouncing once before rolling to a stop right at Buckyâs feet.
You froze.
Buckyâs eyes flicked down to the test, and his entire expression shifted â from curiosity to confusion to wide-eyed realization.
âWait⌠is that aâ?â
âNo!â you yelped, diving forward to snatch up the stick and hide it behind your back. You stood there, breathing heavily, your face flushed with a mix of panic and embarrassment.
Buckyâs gaze slid back to you, his lips quirking into an incredulous smile. âY/N, are those⌠pregnancy tests?â
You glanced around desperately, as if you could conjure up some kind of diversion to steer the conversation elsewhere. âUh⌠no? Maybe?â
âSweetheartâŚâ Bucky stepped around your easily, and in one quick motion, he plucked the other two tests off the sink. He held them up, his eyes wide and eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. âThere are three.â
âYeah, well⌠you know, the first one could be a fluke, and the second one too, andâŚâ you trailed off, wincing at how ridiculous you sounded.
Bucky blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. âThree tests, huh? Youâre nothing if not thorough.â
âBucky!â you hissed, mortification washing over you. âThis isnât funny!â
âMaybe not,â he admitted, though his lips were still twitching with amusement. âBut youâre freaking out over here, hiding them like I wasnât gonna notice.â
âI wasnât freaking out!â you lied, folding your arms across your chest again. âI was just⌠assessing the situation.â
He raised an eyebrow, waving one of the tests in front of your face. âAssessing, huh? And whatâs the situation, then?â
You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. âI donât know, okay? I havenât looked at them yet!â
There was a beat of silence. Thenâ
âWait, you havenât looked?â Buckyâs voice was filled with genuine disbelief. âYouâve been pacing around in here, stressing yourself out, and you havenât even checked?â
âIâm not ready!â you snapped defensively. âI mean⌠what if theyâre positive?â
Buckyâs grin softened into something more genuine, and he stepped forward, gently cupping your cheek. âThen theyâre positive.â
Your eyes met his, the sincerity and calmness in his gaze making some of your panic ebb away. âBut weâre not evenâ I mean, this was supposed to beââ
âA bet?â he finished softly, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. âYeah. I remember. But bets donât always go the way you plan.â
You swallowed hard, your heart still hammering wildly. âYouâre not⌠mad?â
âMad?â he repeated, his expression incredulous. âWhy the hell would I be mad? I mean, sure, this is unexpected. But mad?â He shook his head, chuckling softly. âCâmon, Y/N. You really think Iâd be mad about having a family with you?â
The words made your heart stutter, and you stared up at him, wide-eyed. âBuckyâŚâ
âLetâs just see what they say, alright?â he murmured gently, stepping back and nodding toward the tests. âNo more freaking out until we know.â
With trembling hands, you turned each test over, your breath hitching as you looked at the results.
Positive.
Positive.
Positive.
Buckyâs grin had barely faded before the reality of the situation seemed to really hit him this time. His gaze drifted back to the three tests lined up on the sink, and you watched as his face slowly drained of colour.
âBucky?â you asked cautiously, noticing the way his grip on your arm loosened slightly.
He blinked, his eyes darting between you and the tests like he was trying to solve some impossible puzzle. âSo, uh⌠positive. All three?â
You nodded slowly, worry beginning to creep back in. âYeah, Buck. All three.â
âOh⌠Oh, wow,â he muttered, his eyes widening. âThatâs⌠thatâs a lot of positive.â
âBuckyââ
âI mean, I knew one was a lot, but threeâpositives?â he rambled, swaying slightly on his feet. âThatâs⌠thatâs a whole lot of⌠baby.â
âBucky, are you okay?â you asked, reaching out to steady him as his face turned even paler.
âIâmâyeah, I justââ He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes rolling back slightly as his knees buckled.
âBucky!â you shouted, grabbing for him as he crumpled to the floor in a faint.
You managed to catch his weight just enough to keep him from completely knocking his head on the tiles, though it took every ounce of strength you had to keep him semi-upright.
âAre you freaking kidding me?â you huffed, looking down at his unconscious form with a mix of exasperation and disbelief. âYouâre the one who said youâd be fine with this!â
He let out a soft, incoherent groan, his head lolling to the side as you carefully lowered him all the way to the ground and raised his legs above his head for bloodflow.
âOf course youâd faint, you big drama queen,â you muttered, crouching down beside him and lightly patting his cheeks. âCome on, Buck. Wake up. Iâm not doing this alone, you hear me?â
After a few more pats and murmured reassurances, his eyelids fluttered open, and he blinked up at you, dazed and confused.
âY/N?â he mumbled, his voice slurred. âWhat⌠what happened?â
âYou fainted, you big idiot,â you said, the frustration in your tone softened by the overwhelming relief that he was okay. âOver three little tests.â
Bucky stared at you blankly, then his gaze drifted back to the sink where the tests still sat in a neat row, mocking him with their tiny positive signs.
âOh⌠right,â he murmured, his face scrunching up as he tried to process it all again. âSo it wasnât a dream?â
âNope.â You shook your head, giving him a half-smile. âDefinitely not a dream.â
âDamn,â he breathed, a small, disbelieving laugh escaping him as he ran a hand through his hair. âI really fainted, huh?â
âYeah, you did,â you replied, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice. âAnd youâre lucky I didnât let you hit your head.â
He chuckled weakly, his gaze still lingering on the tests. Then, slowly, he reached up, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently.
âI love you, Y/N, you know that?â he mumbled, his voice soft and a little slurred as he still looked dazed. âNot like a friend, but yâknow⌠like, love love.â
You blinked at him, surprised by the sudden confession. A laugh bubbled up in your throat, the ridiculousness of the situation hitting you all over again. âBucky, youâre still out of it.â
âYeah, probably,â he murmured, blinking up at you with a lopsided grin. âBut doesnât make it any less true.â
Shaking your head, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, your smile softening. âI know, Buck. Weâll talk about that later when youâre not busy fainting over pregnancy tests, okay?â
ââKay,â he mumbled, his eyelids drooping slightly. âBut just⌠so you know.â
âI know,â you repeated gently, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. âJust rest for a second, and then weâll figure this all out together.â
He nodded slowly, his eyes drifting shut for a moment before he opened them again, looking at you with a sleepy smile. âWeâre really gonna be parents, huh?â
âYeah,â you whispered, your heart swelling with affection. âWe really are.â
âCool,â he murmured, his head lolling back against the bathroom tiles. âLove you, Y/N⌠love love.â
You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you sat beside him, holding his hand. âLove you too, Bucky. Now, no more fainting, okay?â
âNo promises,â he mumbled, but his grip tightened around your hand, as if even in his half-conscious state, he didnât want to let go.
And as you sat there on the bathroom floor, Bucky still looking a little woozy but smiling up at you with that goofy, endearing grin, you couldnât help but think that maybe â just maybe â everything was going to be just fine.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
First Trimester.
The clock on the kitchen wall glowed a soft, accusatory 2:37 a.m. as Bucky shuffled groggily into the dimly lit space, scratching at his head. He was half-asleep, dressed in rumpled sweatpants and a t-shirt that had seen better days, and still trying to figure out why heâd been dragged from his warm bed.
He paused mid-step when he spotted you sitting at the kitchen table, your shoulders hunched, face buried in your hands. He blinked, his brain struggling to catch up with the situation. âUh, sweetheart⌠whatâs going on?â
Your only response was a pitiful sniffle, followed by another one. Buckyâs brows shot up in alarm, and he quickly moved to your side, crouching down in front of you.
âHey, hey, whatâs wrong?â he asked softly, peering up at you with wide, concerned eyes. âDid something happen?â
You shook your head, letting out a small, hiccuping sob. âI⌠I really wanted⌠chocolate chip pancakes⌠with whipped cream and strawberriesâŚâ
Bucky blinked again, glancing around the empty kitchen as if he expected a stack of pancakes to magically appear on the counter. âOkay⌠uh⌠we donât have any of that stuff right now, but I can go to the storeââ
âEverythingâs closed!â you wailed, cutting him off with a fresh wave of tears. âAnd I really wanted it now!â
The sheer devastation in your voice made Buckyâs heart clench in sympathy â but a very tiny, very unhelpful part of him also found it hilariously absurd. He had fought aliens, Hydra agents, and all manner of nightmares⌠but heâd never faced down a pregnant wife in the throes of a pancake craving at nearly 3 a.m.
âOh,â he said lamely, scratching his head again as he tried to think of a solution that didnât involve breaking into the nearest IHOP. âOkay, um⌠we can make pancakes without chocolate chips, right?â
âBut I donât want plain pancakes!â you cried, your voice wobbling dangerously. âI want chocolate chip pancakes! And⌠and I want whipped cream on top, but we donât have any!â
Bucky swallowed, his panic rising as you continued to cry. He was the Winter Soldier, damn it. He could handle this. There had to be a way out of this. âOkay, alright. Just breathe, okay? How about⌠uh⌠what if I make you some toast? Iâll put some Nutella on it? Itâs kind of like chocolate.â
âItâs not the same!â you sobbed, burying your face in your hands again. âI want⌠pancakesâŚâ
Bucky let out a helpless laugh, running a hand down his face as he glanced at the empty fridge like it was somehow betraying him. âBaby, youâre killing me here.â
You sniffled, peeking out from between your fingers with watery eyes. âYou donât understand, Buck. I can taste the pancakes. I can taste the strawberries⌠I can feel the whipped creamâŚâ
Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it again, at a complete loss for words. âYeah, uh, I canât pull that out of thin air. ButâŚâ He glanced around, his gaze falling on a tub of vanilla ice cream in the freezer. âWhat if I make you a sundae? Itâs kinda like a pancake⌠just cold.â
âNoâŚâ You shook your head, another tear rolling down your cheek. âItâs not pancakesâŚâ
Bucky let out a long, dramatic sigh, his hands resting on his knees. âOkay, okay. Hereâs the deal. Tomorrow morning, Iâm gonna wake up, and Iâm going to go get you all the chocolate chips and whipped cream and strawberries you want, alright? Iâll make a pancake buffet.â
âBut I want it now,â you murmured miserably, rubbing at your eyes.
âI know, sweetheart. I know,â he cooed gently, reaching out to pat your head awkwardly. âBut unless you want me to bust into some diner and get myself arrested, Iâm gonna need you to hang in there for a few more hours.â
Your lips trembled, and you nodded reluctantly, sniffling again. âIâm being ridiculous, arenât I?â
Bucky smiled softly, his heart melting a little. âNah. Youâre growing a tiny human.â Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he added, âAlthough, I gotta say, if I can handle your craving meltdowns, I think I deserve some kind of medal. Or at least, like⌠superhero husband status.â
A small, watery laugh escaped you despite yourself, and Buckyâs smile widened triumphantly.
âThere she is,â he murmured, leaning up to press a kiss to your temple. âLook, we canât have pancakes right now, but how about we get creative? Maybe I can whip something up with what we do have? Iâm talking PB&J sandwich sculptures. Or,â he gasped dramatically, âa waffle made out of popcorn!â
Your eyebrows furrowed, but the corners of your mouth twitched. âPopcorn waffles?â
âHey, donât knock it âtil you try it,â he said with an exaggeratedly serious expression. âThis could be a revolutionary invention, Y/N. We could change the breakfast game forever.â
You couldnât help but giggle, wiping at your tears as Buckyâs ridiculousness slowly chased away the lingering sadness. âYouâre such a weirdo, you know that?â
âYeah, but you married me,â he shot back, a grin spreading across his face. âSo whoâs the real weirdo?â
âStill you,â you teased softly, shaking your head.
Bucky let out a mock gasp, clutching his chest dramatically. âWow, so rude. No respect for the man whoâs about to go MacGyver your snack cravings at 3 a.m.â
You smiled despite yourself, reaching out to take his hand. âThank you, Buck.â
âAnything for you, sweetheart,â he murmured, squeezing your hand gently. âNow, what do you say we get a little creative in this kitchen and see if we canât make something thatâll make these pancake cravings shut up for a bit?â
âOkay,â you agreed, the warmth of his hand in yours grounding you. âBut Iâm holding you to that pancake buffet tomorrow morning.â
âPancake buffet with extra chocolate chips, whipped cream, and strawberries,â he promised with a mock salute. âYouâve got my word.â
And as Bucky scoured the pantry for the weirdest possible combinations â âHow do you feel about a peanut butter, banana, and potato chip sandwich?â â you couldnât help but laugh, the weight of your cravings lightening in the face of his relentless optimism and willingness to do whatever it took to make you smile.
âWorldâs best husband,â you murmured fondly as he started arranging sandwich slices into a goofy face.
âDamn right,â he replied with a wink, holding up the plate proudly. âAnd this? This is my masterpiece.â
You took one look at the ridiculous sandwich sculpture â a lopsided smile made from pickle slices and a beard of crumbled crackers â and the tears came flooding back, but this time they were unstoppable.
âBucky⌠youâre⌠youâre the best husband⌠in the world!â you sobbed, your shoulders shaking as you buried your face in your hands.
âWhoa, whoa, waitâhold on!â Bucky stammered, his eyes widening in alarm as he quickly set the plate down and moved back to your side. âWhat⌠why are you crying? Sweetheart, itâs just a sandwich! A really ugly sandwich, butââ
You let out another wail, shaking your head as more tears spilled over. âNo, itâs not that! Itâs you! Youâre just soâso good, and sweet, andâand I donât deserve you!â
Bucky froze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.Â
âWait, what? Where did that come from?â He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around as if he expected someone to pop out with a manual for how to handle this. âHey, you deserve everything, okay? Even pancakes at 3 a.m. if I could make it happen.â
âI just⌠youâre always trying so hard, and youâre just⌠youâre amazing,â you whimpered, reaching out to grab his hand like it was a lifeline. âAnd Iâm crying because I canât have pancakes, and Iâm a mess, and youâre making me a weird pickle-beard sandwichâŚâ
Bucky stared at you, completely lost, before he finally let out a helpless, incredulous laugh. âOkay, okay, Iâm officially out of my depth here,â he muttered, gently pulling you into his arms and patting your back awkwardly. âBut hey, letâs save the compliments for when Iâm not half-asleep, yeah?â
You nodded miserably against his chest, your sobs starting to subside as his steady heartbeat grounded you.
âGood, because youâre gonna make me cry if you keep this up,â he joked softly, running a soothing hand through your hair. âAnd no one wants to see the Winter Soldier ugly-cry over a pancake buffet.â
You let out a watery giggle at that, sniffling as you pulled back to look up at him. âYouâre really gonna get me all the pancakes tomorrow?â
âEvery last one,â he promised, his smile gentle and reassuring. âNow come on, letâs see if we can make this popcorn waffle thing work. Youâll need to tell our kid one day that their mom ate the weirdest thing ever while pregnant,â Bucky finished with a grin, his hand sliding down to gently cup your cheek as he wiped away the lingering tears with his thumb. âThat way, when they give us a hard time as teenagers, I can say, âHey, kid, I made your mom a popcorn waffle at 3 a.m. She bettered have loved me.ââ
You laughed again, hiccupping through the tears as you tried to calm yourself. âYouâre crazy, you know that?â
Bucky shrugged, his lips twitching up into a lopsided smile. âMaybe. But you married me, so what does that say about you?â
âThat Iâm a glutton for punishment,â you teased softly, feeling some of the tension start to ease as his thumb continued its gentle, comforting strokes on your cheek.
âOr just smart enough to know when youâve got a good thing,â he murmured back, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. âAnd Iâm gonna keep being that good thing â even when it means making bizarre snacks and wrangling your tears at stupid oâclock in the morning.â
You let out a shaky breath, smiling up at him as you looped your arms around his neck. âI love you, Bucky.â
His eyes softened, his gaze locking onto yours as he leaned in to nuzzle his nose against yours. âI love you too, sweetheart. And weâre gonna figure out this whole craving thing. Even if it means starting a midnight pancake truck or something.â
The image of Bucky in an apron, serving pancakes from a food truck, was so ridiculous that you let out a genuine, hearty laugh. âA pancake truck?â
âWhy not?â He smirked, his fingers playing with a lock of your hair. âIâd be the hottest pancake chef around. Weâd have a line out the door.â
âBecause everyoneâs desperate for pancakes at three in the morning?â you asked, still smiling.
âExactly,â he said with a mock-serious nod. âTheyâd be calling me the Pancake Soldier instead of the Winter Soldier.â
You couldnât help but burst into laughter again, your earlier tears completely forgotten. âI swear, youâre impossible, Bucky Barnes.â
âImpossible and all yours,â he said with a wink, then glanced at the kitchen. âNow, how about we whip up some sort of Frankenstein snack to tide you over until the morning, huh?â
With another sniffle and a smile, you nodded. âAlright. But Iâm still holding you to that pancake buffet.â
âWouldnât dream of backing out,â he promised, kissing your forehead again before guiding you to a chair. âYou sit right here, and let Chef Barnes work his magic.â
You watched as Bucky moved around the kitchen, his clumsy efforts at âcreativeâ snack-making bringing a smile to your face despite the ridiculousness of it all. He muttered under his breath, concocting weird combinations â âWhat if we crush some pretzels on top?â â and talking to the food like it would reveal some hidden trick.
Eventually, he managed to cobble together another makeshift treat: a peanut butter, banana, and honey sandwich with a few random M&Ms sprinkled on top for good measure. It looked as chaotic as you felt, but the effort and love behind it made your heart swell.
You stared at the messy sandwich, your lips trembling again â but this time with a whole different set of emotions.
âHey, no more tears,â Bucky said quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. âIâm running out of ideas here, babe.â
âIâm not crying,â you sniffed, reaching out to take a bite. âItâs just⌠youâre really, really sweet, and I donât know what Iâd do without you.â
Bucky let out a soft chuckle, reaching over to give your knee a gentle squeeze. âLucky for you, youâll never have to find out. Iâm not going anywhere, okay?â
âOkay,â you whispered, your heart feeling lighter than it had all night.
âGood.â He smiled, leaning back in his chair as he watched you take another bite. âNow eat up, because come morning, Iâm getting up at dawn to get everything we need for that pancake buffet. Youâre gonna be the happiest pancake-eating pregnant lady in the world.â
âAnd youâre gonna be the best pancake-making husband in the world,â you replied with a soft smile, warmth spreading through your chest.
âDamn right,â Bucky murmured, his voice filled with so much affection it made your heart skip a beat.
As you finished the bizarre snack and Bucky continued to ramble on about potential pancake flavors and topping combinations, you couldnât help but feel overwhelmingly grateful.
Because, bizarre cravings and all, there was no one else youâd rather navigate the chaos with than him â your best friend, your partner, your ridiculous, wonderful Bucky Barnes.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
Third Trimester
Buckyâs overprotectiveness had started out in small, endearing waysâlike lingering in doorways or making sure you had an extra pillow at night. But as your pregnancy progressed, so did his paranoia, turning him into an almost comical shadow of your once-confident, battle-hardened husband.
It began with the shoelaces.
âWait, wait, wait.â He practically skidded across the living room to kneel at your feet just as you were about to bend down to tie your sneakers. You straightened up, raising a brow, watching him fumble with the laces like it was a complex puzzle rather than a simple bow.
âBucky, itâs just tying my shoes. I can do that,â you pointed out gently, but he shook his head fervently.
âNot risking it. What if you lose your balance?â His words were muffled as he double-knotted the laces, his shoulders hunched like he was shielding you from some invisible force.
âIâm not gonna lose my balance,â you murmured, amused. âIâve been tying my own shoes for decades.â
âThereâs a first for everything.â He tightened the bow a little too firmly, making you flinch. He winced in apology and adjusted it again, softer this time, before peering up at you with those intense blue eyes, a mix of worry and resolve. âHumor me, okay?â
You sighed, relenting with a small nod. âOkay. But just so you know, youâre not going to be doing this every single time.â
He grinnedâvictorious, as if you hadnât noticed how he conveniently âlostâ all your slip-ons just last week.
Then there was the laundry basket incident.
It happened when you were carrying a half-full basket of towels from the dryer. Youâd barely made it halfway down the hall when Bucky materialized out of nowhere, intercepting you like you were carrying live explosives.
âWhoa, whoa, whoaâwhat do you think youâre doing?â His voice was all mock-seriousness, but there was genuine concern underlining it as he gently pried the basket from your hands.
âLaundry?â you deadpanned, trying to tug it back, but he held firm.
âNot anymore, youâre not.â He shot you a look that dared you to argue as he held the basket up high, well out of your reach. âYou donât need to be lugging this around.â
âItâs not even heavy!â you protested, exasperation seeping into your tone.
He scoffed. âDoesnât matter. Iâll take it. Just point me to where you want it.â
Grumbling, you pointed down the hallway. âOur bedroom.â
âSee?â he said with a self-satisfied smile, striding down the hall like he was conquering new territory. âNo big deal.â
You had to fight back an eye roll. âYouâre gonna be like this until the baby is born, arenât you?â
âProbably,â he called over his shoulder, unashamed.
It didnât stop there, of course. In the kitchen, heâd barely let you near the sink.
One morning, youâd decided to tackle the breakfast dishesâsomething you could usually manage without too much hassle. But as soon as you set the first dish into the soapy water, Buckyâs hand appeared out of nowhere, lightly shoving you to the side.
âExcuse me,â he muttered, though it was clear he wasnât asking for permission. âYour bellyâs gonna bump into the counter. Let me do it.â
âBuckyââ
âLet. Me. Do it,â he insisted, holding a soapy plate hostage as he gazed at you, lips set in a stubborn line.
With a sigh, you threw your hands up in surrender. âFine. But Iâm not a porcelain doll, okay? I can do dishes just fine.â
âSure,â he replied, but he was already washing the dishes with focused precision, occasionally glancing at you to make sure you hadnât slipped or stumbled in the two feet heâd moved you back.
It was both infuriating and endearing, and it made you love him even moreâthough youâd never admit it when he was acting like a hovering mother hen.
The grocery trips were almost unbearable. Heâd insisted on coming along, despite your reassurances that you were perfectly capable of picking up a few items.
âWe need milk,â you pointed out, motioning toward the far end of the aisle.
âGot it,â he said immediately, guiding the cart forward with one hand and slipping his other arm around your waist as if to support your entire body weight.
You shot him a look. âI can still walk, you know.â
âOf course you can,â he agreed with a grin. âIâm just⌠helping you waddle.â
âWaddle?â You narrowed your eyes, smacking his arm lightly. âDid you just call me a waddler?â
âUmâŚâ He glanced at you sheepishly, realizing his mistake a second too late. âNo?â
âYeah, nice try.â You huffed, crossing your arms.
âAlright, alright, bad choice of words. Iâm just keeping pace with you,â he corrected, slowing his stride even more so that the two of you were practically moving in slow motion down the aisle.
You couldnât help but laugh, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of it all. âIf we go any slower, weâll start moving backwards.â
Bucky just chuckled, his arm tightening around you protectively. âIâll take my chances.â
By the time you reached the milk, you were almost tempted to ask him to sprint the rest of the way just to get it over with. But the truth was, there was something undeniably sweet about having Bucky hover around like this.
âLet me guess,â you teased as you plucked a carton of milk off the shelf. âYou want to carry this too?â
âOf course,â he said, already reaching for it, his expression deadly serious.
You held on to the carton just long enough to make him sweat before handing it over. âYouâre unbelievable, you know that?â
âUnbelievably in love with you,â he replied easily, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple.
âSmooth,â you muttered, your lips twitching into a reluctant smile.
With Bucky being his overprotective self, you had no doubt that heâd be like this for the next few monthsâand likely long after the baby was born. But as much as you complained, deep down, you knew you wouldnât trade it for anything in the world.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
âBucky, for the last time, itâs just a shoe box,â you emphasise, glancing at your husband as he carefully hoists the empty box off the couch like itâs made of glass.
âDoesnât matter,â he mumbles, eyes darting suspiciously to the plain cardboard. âYou shouldnât be carrying anything in your condition.â
âCondition? Bucky, Iâm pregnant, not broken.â You cross your arms, watching as he tucks the box under his arm like itâs a rare artefact. The man is a walking, talking fortress of muscle, but right now, his overprotectiveness is reaching absurd levels.
âAnd nearly at your due date,â he points out, placing the box on the counter with a sigh of relief as if heâs saved you from imminent danger. âIâve read all the books. I know how this goes.â
You snort, shaking your head. âOh, yeah? So whatâs the worst that could happen if I pick up a shoe box?â
Bucky turns to you with a dead-serious expression.Â
âItâs not about the weight. Itâs aboutâŚâ he falters, eyes scanning your swollen belly, ââŚstability. Your centre of gravity is off right now. A box could trip you.â
âA box could trip me?â You arch a brow, incredulous. âReally?â
âYes!â His tone is insistent, and you have to bite back a laugh. This is the same man who once told a pack of HYDRA agents they were outnumberedâjust because it was him and Steve versus a dozen of them. But now, heâs reduced to eyeing an empty cardboard box like itâs a mortal enemy.
Sighing, you sit back on the couch, deciding itâs not worth the argument. Besides, thereâs a certain charm in seeing the Winter Soldier so worked up over an inanimate object. You lean back, letting out a small groan as you shift your weight.
Buckyâs been hovering around you all day like a lost puppy, eyes following your every move. The moment you make the slightest sound, his head whips around, concern flickering in his eyes. So when you groan, immediately, heâs by your side, eyes wide, hands hovering over your belly.
âWhat? Whatâs wrong? Is it time? Should I get the bag?â
âCalm down, Dad-mode. Iâm just stretching.â You roll your eyes, but you canât hide the smile tugging at your lips. âYouâve gotta stop panicking every time I make a sound.â
âEvery time you make a sound, it could be something serious!â Bucky exclaims, sounding almost affronted. âDo you know what itâs like hearing you groan and not knowing if itâs âI want ice creamâ or âIâm about to go into laborâ?â
âSounds like a personal problem,â you tease.
He huffs, muttering something about âpregnancy hormones,â and kneels down in front of you. Strong hands lift your foot gently, and he starts massaging your arch. You sigh, instantly melting under his touch.
âBetter?â His voice is softer now, concern etched in every syllable.
âMuch better,â you mumble, letting out a little moan as he presses down on a particularly tight knot.
âHey, hey, hey!â Bucky freezes, eyes wide again. âWhatâs that? Pain?â
âRelax,â you say, though your voice is slightly breathless. âItâs the good kind of pain. Keep going.â
You lean your head back, closing your eyes as Bucky continues the foot massage. The man has hands that could crush stone, but right now, heâs so gentle you almost feel like youâre floating. Itâs hard not to feel a little spoiled under his doting care.
But just when youâre getting lost in the bliss of his hands working away the tension, you catch his face out of the corner of your eye. Buckyâs brow is furrowed, and his expression is one of fierce concentration, like heâs facing down a particularly difficult opponent. You stifle a giggleâonly Bucky could make a foot massage seem like a high-stakes mission.
âAlright, alright, enough of that,â you say, reaching down to tug on his hand. âIf you keep looking at my foot like that, you might set it on fire.â
Bucky blinks up at you, clearly having forgotten where he was. He chuckles, the sound low and almost shy. âCanât help it. I just⌠I want to make sure Iâm doing it right.â
âBucky, itâs a foot massage, not defusing a bomb.â You roll your eyes again, but your heart swells at his concern. âYouâre doing it perfectly.â
A faint blush colors his cheeks, but he lets out a small huff, pretending to be grumpy. âIâll take that as a compliment.â
Then, without warning, he shifts beside you on the couch, a determined look settling on his face. âNow, hold still.â
Before you can ask what heâs up to, Bucky leans down, pressing his ear gently against your belly. Youâre about to ask him if heâs comfortable, but the sheer look of wonder on his face stops you short. His eyes close, and he inhales deeply, as if trying to capture every little movement your baby girl makes.
âHey, there, sweetheart,â Bucky murmurs softly, his voice dropping to a gentle whisper. His fingers splay across your belly, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles. âItâs your dad. Just wanted to check in on you, make sure youâre being good for your mama.â
You bite your lip, warmth spreading through your chest at the sight. The fierce Winter Soldier, the man with a list of enemies longer than most peopleâs grocery lists, reduced to talking softly to your baby girl like sheâs the most delicate thing in the world.
âSheâs probably plotting her escape already,â you joke quietly, and Bucky grins up at you.
âNah,â he says, eyes crinkling at the corners. âSheâs too busy practicing her karate kicks. Isnât that right, little one?â
Right on cue, a small flutter against your belly answers him, and Buckyâs eyes light up like fireworks. He leans down again, pressing his lips gently against the spot where your baby kicked.
âWhoa, easy there, sweetheart,â he murmurs, a playful smile tugging at his lips. âSave the punches for when youâre out here. Weâve got plenty of training sessions ahead of us.â
You snort, shaking your head at his words. âBucky, sheâs not even born yet, and youâre already planning training sessions?â
âGotta start âem young,â he says seriously, but the way he softens his voice when he turns back to your belly is anything but tough. âBut donât worry, weâll take it easy. Iâll make sure you get to be a kid and have fun first. No oneâs gonna mess with you. Not when Iâm around.â
He pauses, his eyes misting over for a brief moment, and you know heâs thinking about everything heâs been throughâeverything he wants to shield your daughter from. Slowly, he rubs his thumb along your belly again, his touch featherlight.
âAnd youâre gonna love your mama,â Bucky continues softly. âSheâs strong, and sheâs funny, andââ He glances up at you, his smile turning mischievous. âSheâs a little bit stubborn sometimes. But youâre gonna be just like her, I bet.â
âGreat,â you mutter, faking a groan. âTwo of you plotting against me.â
âWouldnât dream of it,â Bucky promises, but the glint in his eyes tells you heâs already imagining all the ways heâll spoil his little girl.
He shifts again, his head still resting on your belly, and you have to stifle another laugh as he starts a running commentary, complete with exaggerated gestures.
âOkay, so hereâs the plan,â he whispers conspiratorially to your baby. âWhen you get here, youâre gonna kick a lot. Cry a lot. But not too much. Your mama needs her sleep. Then, weâll team up to get you extra dessert when sheâs not looking.â
âBucky!â You canât help itâyou burst out laughing. âYou canât be plotting behind my back already!â
He grins, looking up at you with mock innocence. âHey, itâs not my fault if she wants ice cream. Right, sweetheart?â
A few more soft kicks seem to echo his words, and you canât help but roll your eyes.
âIâm doomed,â you say, shaking your head fondly.
âNo, youâre not,â Bucky murmurs, his voice softening again. He presses one more kiss against your belly before shifting to sit up beside you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you gently against his side. âYouâre gonna be the best mom. And Iâm gonna be right here, making sure you both have everything you need.â
You lean into his warmth, smiling as his hand drifts back to your belly, tracing idle patterns.
âI love you,â you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder.
âAnd I love you,â he replies, voice deep and steady. He leans down, kissing the top of your head. âBoth of you.â
With Bucky holding you close and whispering to your daughter, you feel your heart swell with a contentment so strong it almost aches. Itâs moments like these that remind you just how lucky you are to have this overprotective, sweet man by your side.
Even if he does go overboard sometimes.
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