#bucky barnes x dot

[angstysebfan]

Just Friends - Part 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: This is a 2-parter. You've been just friends with Bucky since you first joined the Avengers, but is there more? You both deny it. What happens with Bucky gets a girlfriend, who may not like your relationship? Warnings: Angst, jealousy, asshole girlfriends, cursing

A/N: I hope I made this even better than it was before. It’s a 2-parter. Part 2 will hopefully be out tomorrow. None of my stories are edited or beta’d. If you want to be a part of my taglist, please request. My old taglist no longer is active.

When you first joined the Avengers, you instantaneously felt comfortable with everyone, but there was one person that you clicked with more than the others. Bucky Barnes. He was shy for maybe a day before realizing how much you both have in common. He became your person and you became his, platonically of course. Sometimes you wonder if there is more, but you don't dwell on it much. You're happy being exactly what you are to each other. Like right now, you're sitting on the couch watching TV, your feet on Bucky’s lap, with him massaging your calves. You both sit and watch Ace Ventura, because you both love comedy and Jim Carey is king. When the movie was finally over, you look over at Bucky and give him a smile.

“So what do you want to do now?” you ask, nudging your foot into his hard abdomen.

He squeezes your foot and tickles the bottom of it, making you giggle and pull your foot toward you. He chuckles and grabs you foot back to put in on his lap, continuing his massage.

“We could take a nap,” he said with raised eyebrows.

You smile and nod at him excitedly. “Your room or mine?” you ask.

He stands up, letting your feet drop, he turns and reaches for your hands. He pulls you off the couch and leads you toward his room, stilling holding onto your one hand.

You close the door behind you and climb into the bed with Bucky, and snuggle into his open arms. You feel a kiss on the top of your head and nuzzle your nose into his chest. It didn’t take you long to fall asleep with the sound of his steady heartbeat and the warmth of his arms. This is probably your favorite place.

When you wake up, a few hours later, you realize you're alone in his room. You decide to look for him and head back toward the common room and hear Sam, Steve and Bucky talking.

“It’s not a big deal guys. Y/N is my best friend… besides you,” you guess Bucky points at Steve when he says this last part.

“I don’t know man, you guys act like you’re dating,” Sam says.

“Are you sure you don’t have feelings for her?” you hear Steve ask.

Your heart starts pounding in your chest. Now you've been asked the same question by Nat and Wanda, and you always stated you were both just friends, but again you wonder if it's really true. And while you assume you know his answer, you kinda hope he says that he does have feelings, then you won't feel stupid for your "feelings".

“We're just friends,” he says with confidence.

You can’t help the slight disappointment, but shake it off because of course your just friends. You were perfectly okay with just being friends with Bucky, and you didn’t care that the rest of the team didn’t get it.

“Guys, trust me. I will NEVER see Y/N like that. She's far from my type. Plus, I already started talking to a girl, who's so amazing,” Bucky says.

You can’t help but gasp at that statement, and have tears coming down your cheeks. While you understand he may only like you as a friend, to hear that you'll never be his type hurts you more than you care to admit. Then to hear that he has been talking to someone else send another stab into your heart. Maybe you do have stronger feelings for Bucky than you realized, and maybe you need to deal with those feelings and quickly since they will never be reciprocated.

–

The next day you were in the the gym lifting weights, when Bucky came strolling in. He was on the phone, and you couldn’t help but notice the wide smile he had on. When he hung up the phone, he made a B-line to you. You take a deep breath and get into the correct head space.

“Hello my Bella. Haven’t seen you since our nap yesterday. Everything okay?” He asks. You continue with your exercise and give him a small smile. “Yup.” He looks at you, waiting for more of an answer. When you don’t elaborate, he can’t help but feel nervous, but quickly shakes it away.

“Hey, you busy later? I kinda have someone I want you to meet.” He asks. You look into his eyes, prepared to blow him off, but you see the hope in them. “Um… yea sure.” you say quietly. He smiles and walks toward the punching bag to begin his own workout.

After you both finish your workouts, and shower, he knocks on your door. “Hey Belle, you ready?” he asks when you open the door. “Uh, yeah. Let’s go.” You walk out of the room, and Bucky immediately wraps his flesh arm around your shoulders, as he leads you to the elevator.

Once you left the compound, you both walk to the pizza place about a 20 minute walk since the compound property is so big. Bucky has his arm around you the entire time, and eventually you wrap yours around his waist and relax. So what you're going to meet a girl he is talking to. Talking to someone is nothing, and maybe it won't even work out.  You both enter the pizza place, and Bucky leads you toward a red head sitting in the booth in the back. Bucky had immediately released you when you entered, but grabbed your hand as he lead you walked to the booth.

The red head smiles at Bucky, but her smile slips slightly as her eyes asses you and your joined hands. You can’t help the blush of anxiety in your cheeks. Bucky releases your hand, when the red head gets out of the booth and tightly embraces her.

“Hey, Dot. You been waiting long?” he asks.

She shakes her head ‘no’ into his chest as her hands caress the hairs on the back of his neck. When they pull apart, she holds his head and pulls him into a kiss. Your breath hitches and you try to look somewhere else, wanting nothing more than to cry and possibly vomit. Bucky pulls away from Dot and turns to look at you with an embarrassed smile. You see the blush in his cheeks, but you try to act nonchalant, and you hope you succeed. Bucky takes your hand and pulls you next to him.

“Dot, this is Y/N. She's my best friend. Y/N, this is Dot. My girlfriend,” he says looking between the two of you with a proud smile.

Your eyes snap up to Bucky’s in surprise. Girlfriend?! You thought he was just talking but they are actually dating? What. The. Fuck! You put your spy talents to use and pretend to be somewhat happy.

“Dot, it's nice to meet you,” you say as you extend your hand to shake hers.

Dot looks at you with a fake smile. “I’m sure,” she says as she grabs your hand.

You are taken aback by this, but squeeze her hand as hard as you can. You see her wince, and just grin at her. Bucky looks happy and motions for the three of you to sit in the booth. He sits next to Dot, and they hold hands and Bucky caressing hers with his thumb. Throughout the whole lunch Dot kept leaning into Bucky and constantly touched him. You get more aggravated each time she touches him, knowing she was staking her claim on him in front of you. She obviously found you and your relationship with Bucky threatening. She also talks to him in a squeaky babylike voice, that runs right through you. You try your best to act the part of the best friend, but your heart is completely broken. No wonder he'll never look at you like that. This is obviously the type of girl he is interested in, and you will never be this type of girl. Thank god.

When you're done, you walk outside of the restaurant, turn and look at Dot.

“It was nice to meet you,” you say with a fake but polite smile.

She gives you a knowing smirk, “You too, uh… I’m sorry what was your name again?” she says.

Your polite smile falls and scowl forms. “Y/N,” you say flatly.

“Right, Y/N.”

You look at Bucky, “You ready to go?” you say.

Bucky looks weird and is avoiding you eyes, “Um, actually I’m going to go to Dot’s for the night,” he says quietly.

You're fucking pissed because you walked here, which means you now have to walk back, alone. It’s now basically dark, and you are in nowhere upstate New York. You stare at Bucky in disbelief and then at Dot, who has a smug grin on her face as she wraps her arms around Bucky, pulling him in the direction of her car.

“Oh, great. Well… uh.. have fun,” you say quickly but making sure he knew you were pissed.

You turn around and start walking back toward the compound feeling utterly defeated and pissed. You hear Bucky call your name asking you to wait a moment, but you just keep walking, tears running down your face. You feel your phone vibrating, knowing he was calling you, but again you ignore it. You walk up to the border of the compound property and stop and take a breath. You wanted to calm down before you went in. You look at your phone and see Bucky texted you.

I’m so sorry, Bells. I know should've told you.

Don't hate me.

Please let me know when you get back.

You decide to ignore him, he didn’t deserve to know you were back. You take another deep breath and walk up the walkway toward the building. You take the elevator to your floor and go straight to your room. You decide to shower and get ready for bed.

You lay there, wondering what will happen tomorrow when Bucky comes back. Suddenly your phone vibrates again. Its Bucky:

We really need to talk, tomorrow.

–

You wake up the next day and look at your phone. It was already 11:30. You quickly get up and change before heading down to the gym. You're half way through your run on the treadmill when Bucky walks in not looking like his normal happy self around you. He looks over at you, coldly and walks over. He then starts to look uncomfortable when he stops in front of you, and won’t meet your eyes.

“Hey,” you say.

He just nods. “Y/N, can you stop for a second, I need to talk to you,” he says, still avoiding your eyes.

You bring the treadmill to a stop and step down feeling confused by his demeanor.

“What’s going on?” you ask cautiously.

Bucky now looks at you, but his stare is hard and cold. You feel the air leave your lungs as you feel the anger starting to radiate off of him.

“Our friendship is over, Y/N,” he says, like it is nothing.

You feel the tears start to build. “What? Why? Buck… is this because I wouldn’t answer you last night? I.. I was upset because you didn’t give me the heads up about anything. I mean you didn't warn me I would be meeting your girlfriend, and then when introduce me to Dot, she made it pretty damn obvious she didn’t like me. Then to top it all off you made me walk home alone. I had a right to be pissed, but now you're ending the friendship?”

Bucky glares at you. “You made Dot feel very uncomfortable yesterday. She told me that you squeezed her hand too tight and would constantly make her feel like you were looking down on her. You were supposed to be my friend, and support me in my first relationship. Dot doesn’t like how close I am with you, and I want this relationship with her to work, because I think she could be the one for me. So I’m sorry, we need to end our friendship and keep our distance from each other.”

Tears are falling from your eyes, but you can’t help but get angry. “Are you fucking kidding me, James? I made her uncomfortable? She was assessing me from the moment we walked in the damn restaurant! I mean did you hear what she said when you introduced us? Or how about when I was leaving, she didn't even remember my name. But of course you don't give a shit about that, huh? So obviously our friendship has meant absolutely nothing to you this whole time! So fine, consider our friendship over, and stay the hell away from me. Goodbye Bucky.”

You push him out of the way and run out of the gym. Bucky’s heart is in his throat. He honestly doesn’t know what to do because when he spoke to Dot last night, she made it seem like you made her uncomfortable. He does want to try with Dot, because he knows he could never be with... you. Now he's lost you for good, which he thought would help him get over his feelings for you, but seeing your face broken by his words killed him in a way he never felt before.

He feels like he just made the worst mistake in his whole life.

--

Part 2

Oh Bucky you done fucked up man. Dot can go all the way to hell, and Bucky you might be joining her dude. Feedback is appreciated.

Permanent Taglist: @rebekahdawkins @marajade1974 @missvelvetsstuff @phillygirl77 @pattiemac1 @winterslove1917 @vampire7595

[writeshite]

Bucky seeing a stomach bulge as he fucks you

this is a size kink basically

Hmmm good soup

[crowleychild]

every gay person is connected somehow

i like to call this ‘popular mlm ships with freakishly similar name dynamics’

this means absolutely nothing i’ve simply been observing this for a hot sec

[vunblr]

Crumbs of Connection

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ just in case. Fluff.

Summary: When Bucky wanders into a quirky late-night bakery, he doesn’t expect the warmhearted owner to challenge his defenses.

Word Count: About 11.8k.

Bucky dragged his feet along the cracked sidewalk with slumped shoulders, as the chill of the night seeped through his tattered jacket. He was almost at the building he’d moved into a few days ago, but each step felt heavier than the last. The mission that was supposed to be a walk in the park had left him with a pounding headache, a sour mood, and a stomach that wouldn’t stop growling.

That’s when he noticed.

The little bakery on the corner was still open, its warm light spilling onto the dark street. He frowned. What kind of place stayed open this late? Before he could question it further, the smell of fresh bread, herbs and butter hit his senses. His feet carried him inside before his brain caught up.

The bell above the door chimed softly, and he stepped into the warmth. His eyes scanned the counter, landing on a tray of focaccia behind the glass display. Golden, perfectly crisped, dotted with rosemary and sea salt. His stomach twisted with hunger as he stared, almost entranced.

“Um,” a voice broke through his daze, soft but tinged with caution, “if you wait a little, I can fix something for you.”

Bucky blinked and turned toward the counter. The woman standing there wasn’t what he expected at this ungodly hour. She looked alert, not a trace of exhaustion in her bright eyes or the easy way she held herself. Before he could respond, she disappeared through a door behind the counter.

He frowned, rubbing the bridge of his nose as the light above the counter made his headache throb harder. A few moments later, she returned, holding a small paper bag.

“Here,” she said, offering it with a small smile. “It must be hard in this cold.”

Bucky stared at her, the bag, then back at her.

“What?” he rasped, his voice rougher than he intended.

“Don’t be proud now,” she said, firm but not unkind. “Just take it.”

His mouth twitched, halfway to a sarcastic retort, but he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind a basket of bread. Mud-streaked face, greasy and plastered hair. His beard was a week past needing a trim, and his split lip and tattered clothes didn’t help either.

He swallowed hard, suddenly unsure whether to laugh or groan. She thought he was homeless. His mouth opened and closed, and then he muttered, “I’m not a beggar.”

Her expression didn’t change. She just stared at him for a beat, then muttered, “Okay?” like she wasn’t entirely convinced.

Bucky squinted at her, then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ve had a bad night,” he said finally, the admission tasting bitter in his mouth.

She quirked a brow, with obvious skepticism.

“Can I just get a focaccia?” he asked, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. He kept his movements slow, hiding his bruised knuckles from her as much as possible. He grimaced as he came up with a crumpled bill and a few coins. He counted them twice, deepening his frown. He must have lost his wallet somewhere during the mission, or maybe it was back at the apartment. Either way, what he had wasn’t enough.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. He glanced at her, unsure of how to explain, but she was already watching him.

Her expression didn’t falter. If anything, her gaze softened, though he noticed the faintest flicker of wariness still in her eyes. “It’s fine,” she said after a moment, with a gentle voice. “Just take it.”

Bucky stiffened. “No, I-”

“You’ll pay me back when you get some money,” she interrupted firmly, waving a hand like it was no big deal. “It’s late, cold, and you’re hungry. It’s not going to hurt me to let one focaccia go.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but the look she gave him shut him up faster than he liked to admit. There was no pity there, just unwavering practicality like she’d already decided and wasn’t about to budge.

“I don’t need charity,” he muttered, the words falling flat even to his own ears.

“Good thing this isn’t charity then,” she shot back, arching a brow. “It’s credit. You can pay it back tomorrow, or the day after, whenever.”

Bucky’s lips pressed into a tight line, his pride warring with the hunger clawing in his stomach. Finally, he exhaled through his nose and reached for the bag.

“Fine,” he said, with a clipped voice. “But I will pay you back.”

“Sure. Okay.” she replied, handing it over with an ease that only frustrated him more.

He didn’t thank her. Not out loud, at least. He just nodded stiffly and made his way to the door, the warm paper bag cradled in his hands like it was the first good thing to happen to him all day.

As the door closed behind him, she sighed softly, shaking her head. The man looked like life had chewed him up and spit him out. Maybe he’d just fallen through the cracks recently, it was always hardest in the beginning, learning to ask for help. She glanced at the counter, absently smoothing her hands over her apron.

If she saw him again, maybe she could mention her friend at the community center. They were always looking to help people find stable footing before things got worse. And for someone like him, someone who clearly still had some pride, maybe it wasn’t too late to get him back on his feet.

The sound of the bell snapped her out of her thoughts.

Two cops strolled in, familiar faces, and she greeted them with a small smile. “The usual?” she asked, already moving to grab a pair of pastries from the display.

As she handled their order with practiced ease, her thoughts kept drifting back to the handsome stranger with the haunted eyes.

------

Bucky shoved open the door to his apartment. The space was dark, empty, and cold, but he barely noticed. He kicked off his boots, shrugging out of his jacket and letting it fall somewhere on the floor. His pants followed, the trail of his discarded clothing leading to the kitchen sink.

He turned on the tap, scrubbing his hands under the warm water and letting out a tired sigh as the grime and blood washed away.

Finally, he opened the bag and pulled out the focaccia, its edges still faintly warm. He bit into it without ceremony, his teeth tearing through the crisp crust and sinking into the soft, herby center.

The groan that escaped him was involuntary.

“Jesus,” he muttered, leaning against the counter. He wasn’t sure if the bread was actually this good or if it was just because he was starving, but it didn’t matter. He tore off another bite, then another, letting the flavors fill the hollow ache in his stomach.

His mind drifted back to the clerk. She had been… unexpected, in a way. Not just because she was there at that hour, but how she’d looked at him, unafraid, and then her gesture, offering him the bread without hesitation, it threw him off. He wasn’t used to kindness without strings attached.

Bucky frowned at the thought, swallowing another bite. He knew he’d acted like an ass, stiff and gruff, but he hadn’t known what else to do. His gaze drifted to the paper bag on the counter, now empty except for a few crumbs. Tomorrow, he’d pay her back. He’d make sure of it.

And maybe while he was there, he could look around properly. He’d been too tired to take it all in, but in the brief glance he’d caught, he’d seen shelves lined with pastries, bread, and other things that looked more tempting than they had any right to be.

It wasn’t just about the food, though. It would be a way to repay her. To even the scales.

Dragging a hand through his hair, Bucky sighed and pushed away from the counter. As he collapsed onto the messy nest of sheets in his living room, his last thought was of the clerk: her calm voice and the smile she’d given him as she handed over the bag.

---

The next morning, Bucky stood under the hot shower spray, letting the water beat against his sore muscles. He scrubbed the grime of the previous day away, trying to clear his head. Afterward, he brewed a cup of coffee, jolting his brain into something resembling alertness.

Setting the empty mug in the sink, he began hunting for his wallet. He turned over the few possessions he had in his apartment, muttering curses under his breath, but it was nowhere to be found.

“Great,” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair.

Reluctantly, he went to the stash of cash he kept hidden under a loose floorboard. Pulling out a few bills, he tucked them into his pocket and took a quick look in the mirror. His split lip was still healing, but his beard was trimmed now, and the dark circles under his eyes were a little less pronounced. Also, his clothes didn’t look like they were dragged against a concrete road. Good enough.

The walk to the bakery was brisk, the chill of the morning sharp but not unpleasant. He felt more like himself than he had the night before, ready to repay the debt and maybe even buy something else.

But as he approached the corner, his steps faltered.

The bakery was closed.

He frowned, sweeping his gaze  over the dark windows and drawn curtains. The sign on the door mocked him with its clear Closed lettering.

What kind of bakery was closed at 10 a.m.?

His mind immediately jumped to worst-case scenarios. Maybe something had happened. Maybe the clerk stayed too late and ran into trouble on her way home. His jaw tightened as he peeked through the curtains, searching for any sign of movement inside.

But then his eyes landed on the sign taped to the door:

Open: 4 p.m. - 12 a.m.

Bucky blinked.

“What the fuck?” he muttered, straightening.

What kind of bakery worked on a schedule like that? Who baked bread for the night shift? He rubbed his jaw, baffled, and glanced at the darkened windows again.

With a shake of his head, he turned back the way he came, the mystery of the night-shift bakery simmering in his thoughts.

---

The day passed in the kind of monotony Bucky had learned to tolerate. Cleaning his gear, half-watching a soccer game, biting back the urge to snap at Dr. Raynor during their session, and ignoring Sam’s persistent calls. By the time evening rolled around, he was restless enough to head out again.

Around 9 p.m., he set off to the bakery, the mystery of its late hours still nagging at him. Who needed baked goods at this time of night? Well, besides himself. Sleep was always a gamble, if he was lucky, he’d be out by 2 a.m., though that was probably wishful thinking.

As he rounded the corner, he spotted movement by the shop. Three bikers, with leather jackets patched with gang insignias, stepped out of the door, each carrying large paper bags stuffed with… something. Bucky couldn’t make out what was inside, but they seemed satisfied, securing the bags to their saddlebags before waving toward the bakery window. His brow furrowed as he slowed his pace. The clerk waved back before she turned and disappeared behind the counter.

The bikers mounted their bikes and roared off into the night, leaving Bucky to stare after them for a moment. He quirked a brow. Well, it seemed the place had its regulars.

Pushing open the door, the soft chime of the bell announced his arrival. The warmth hit him immediately, carrying with it the now-familiar scent of herbs and fresh bread.

She was at the counter again, arranging some pastries on a tray. The sound of the bell made her look up, and her movements stilled when she saw him. It wasn’t much, just a flicker of hesitation, but he caught it. Then, like flipping a switch, she composed herself, her face smoothing into a polite smile.

“Hi,” she greeted him, he thought he caught a hint of surprise beneath it.

“Hey,” Bucky replied, almost gruffly. He stepped forward, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

For a brief moment, silence hung between them as their eyes met. Neither spoke, just staring at each other, the air charged with an odd sense of recognition. Then she blinked, snapping herself out of the trance, mentally slapping herself.

“Hi,” she said again, her voice a little higher this time, followed by a flustered, “What can I do for you?”

Bucky shifted slightly, pulling one hand from his pocket and holding out a few bills. “I came to pay you for the focaccia,” he said simply. “And… I wanted to buy some other things too.”

Her brows lifted, and she laughed softly, taking the money from him. “That was fast. I wasn’t going to charge you interest, you know,” she chuckled.

“Appreciate it,” he muttered, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“So,” she said, her professional demeanor slipping back into place, “what can I get you?”

As he scanned the shelves and pointed to a few items, she efficiently began sorting them into paper bags. But he noticed her hands slowing now and then, her lips pressed together like she was working through something. Finally, she turned toward him, bag in hand, and blurted, “I’m sorry.”

Bucky frowned, tilting his head slightly. “For what?”

“For assuming…” She gestured vaguely toward him, her expression tinged with embarrassment.

He blinked, then let out a low chuckle. “Well, I looked like shit,” he said bluntly, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smirk. “Can’t blame you.”

Her shoulders eased at his reaction, and she gave him a small, relieved smile. “Thank you for… you know,” he added, signaling vaguely toward the counter where the focaccias where exhibited.

“Don’t mention it,” she replied and then extended a hand, “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

“Bucky,” he said, his vibranium hand staying tucked in his pocket as he shook her hand briefly with the other one.

As she returned to filling the bags, he couldn’t stop himself. He leaned slightly against the counter, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.

“So,” he said, breaking the quiet, “what’s up with the hours here? Four to twelve?”

Her head popped up, a faint look of surprise crossing her face before she laughed softly. “Oh, that.” She handed him the filled bags, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time,” he replied in a casual tone, though his gaze made clear that he actually wanted to know.

“This bakery… my grandparents opened it in the ’60s,” she began. “When my gramps passed in the early 2000s, my granny made some changes. One of them was the schedule.”

Bucky tilted his head, his curiosity sharpening. “The late hours?”

She nodded, leaning lightly against the counter. “Yeah. There’s a lot of nightlife in this neighborhood and a surprising number of residents work night or late shifts. She figured people needed somewhere to grab a decent meal at odd hours. It was risky, but eventually, it worked out.”

He let the idea sink in, flicking , his gaze briefly to the trays of baked goods. It made sense, in a way.

“When she passed the shop to me,” she continued, with a voice tinged with fondness, “I decided to keep things just the way they were. It feels right, you know? Like I’m keeping her legacy alive.”

She shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “Besides, I don’t get sleepy at night, anyway. I’ve always been more of a night owl. I end up sleeping all morning, so the schedule works for me.”

Bucky studied her for a moment, taking in the mix of pride and nostalgia in her expression. She seemed connected to the place in a way that made the odd schedule seem less strange and more… fitting.

“That’s… different,” he said finally, his voice softer than usual.

“Different good or different bad?” she asked, quirking a brow as she crossed her arms.

He smirked, shaking his head. “Just different.”

But he couldn’t leave it there. The question burned in his mind, and he found himself asking, “Don’t you think it’s dangerous being open this late? Alone?”

She tilted her head, not missing a beat. “I’m not alone. Liam, the main baker, is in the kitchen.”

Bucky gave her a pointed look, one brow lifting in a way that clearly said, Seriously?

“And if someone armed gets in here, he’d chase them off with a spatula?”

She laughed softly, but there was a flicker of something thoughtful in her eyes. “We’ve had our share of… episodes,” she admitted, “but it’s been a long time since the last one.” She gestured toward a small table near the counter with a nod of her head. “The cops come by all the time to grab something or even sit and eat.”

“That’s not exactly foolproof,” Bucky muttered, unconvinced.

Her lips curved into a wry smile, and she leaned in a little, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. “Let’s just say having the local bikers as regulars doesn’t hurt either.”

He blinked, frowning. “The guys I saw earlier? So they… behave?”

“They’re good guys,” she retorted, then paused and corrected herself with a grin. “They’re nice guys. Most of the time.”

Bucky raised a skeptical brow, and she continued, “Sometimes they even help out. Like last week, when the mixer broke. They swung by after their ride and got it working again. One of them’s pretty handy with tools.”

Bucky’s frown deepened, though this time it wasn’t out of suspicion. He wasn’t sure whether to find the whole setup amusing or… concerning.

“Guess that’s one way to stay safe,” he muttered, glancing around the shop like it might reveal more secrets.

“It works,” she said shrugging. “Besides, most people aren’t looking for trouble when they’re hungry.”

He let out a quiet huff of laughter, shaking his head. Then he picked up the bags and nodded at her, and she offered him a small smile, “Come again.”

He paused at the door, glancing back at her. “I will.”

With that, he was gone, the door chime softly announcing his exit. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, leaning against the counter for a moment. Her gaze lingered on the door, her mind replaying the way his broad frame looked in those casual clothes. Effortless, like he didn’t have to try at all to look that good.

The thought was interrupted by the sound of the door chime again. She straightened quickly, spotting two guys in uniforms marked with the local electricity company’s logo.

“Hey,” one of them called, grinning. “Got any donuts left?”

---

Time passed, and Bucky started showing up regularly, his visits becoming a constant in her evenings. Three days a week, like clockwork, the bell would chime, and there he’d be, gloved hands tucked into his jacket pockets and that quiet, brooding air about him.

What surprised her most wasn’t the frequency of his visits but how much he bought each time. He’d point out loaves, pastries, and cookies, practically cleaning out half the display case on some nights. At first, she thought it was just politeness, a way to make up for that first night. But as the weeks went on, it became clear that this was just his thing.

One evening, as she packed his usual haul into bags, curiosity finally got the better of her and she glanced up at him with a smile. “Wow, your family must really enjoy our goods,” she said playfully.

The comment made him pause. His smile faltered, just for a second, and his eyes flicked away like he was retreating inward.

She noticed the shift immediately and quickly tried to smooth things over. “Oh,” she said with a laugh, waving a hand, “great appetite then. I won’t complain about that.”

His gaze returned to her, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a faint smile. “Something like that,” he murmured.

She handed him the bags, softening her smile. Whatever that moment had been, she wasn’t going to push. “Well, you’re keeping me in business, so thank you.”

He nodded, a quiet “thanks” leaving his lips before he turned to leave.

---

As Bucky walked the short distance back to his apartment, the bags swinging lightly in his grip, his mind churned with thoughts he couldn’t quite shake. Her comment replayed in his head: Your family must really enjoy our goods.

Family.

His jaw clenched slightly. He didn’t have one, not anymore. The people he cared about… well, they were scattered or gone, and the thought of sitting at a table surrounded by warmth and laughter felt more like a faded memory than a reality.

He adjusted his grip on the bags, slowing his steps as he reached his building. It wasn’t her fault, of course. She hadn’t meant anything by it, just an innocent assumption. And she’d recovered quickly, giving him an out he appreciated more than he could express.

Still, the weight of the moment stuck with him. The way her words had scratched at something raw and unhealed, something he thought he’d buried deep enough that it couldn’t sting anymore.

In the quiet of his apartment, he set the bags on the counter and shrugged off his jacket. He pulled out one of the pastries she’d packed for him, a warm smell of cinnamon and sugar wafting up as he took a bite. The sweetness melted on his tongue, giving him a fleeting comfort.

She was kind. That much was clear. Her warmth wasn’t forced or rehearsed; it was just… there. Bucky leaned against the counter, staring at the pastry in his hand like it might hold some answers. He hadn’t meant to make her uncomfortable, but his reaction had been automatic, a wall thrown up before he could even think about it.

He couldn’t deny that he liked going to the bakery, liked seeing her. He finished the pastry and sighed, glancing at the bags of baked goods. He’d go back, of course. It was becoming part of his routine, and he found himself looking forward to the short conversations, the moments of normalcy she unknowingly offered him.

He just needed to keep things simple. Keep the walls up.

----

Keep things simple, Bucky had told himself more times than he could count, the mantra almost automatic by now. But as he stood at the counter that Wednesday night, watching her nervously wring her hands, he felt a crack in his resolve.

“Can I ask you a question?” she began, a little hesitant. “It’s alright if you don’t want to answer, but…”

He tensed. His gloved hand rested on the counter, fingers curling slightly. “Go ahead.”

“This weekend, I went to the Smithsonian with a friend…”

And there it was. This is it.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he interrupted, with a sharper tone than he intended. He wanted to rip the band-aid off, and get it over with. He braced himself for the shift, the awkward laugh, the strained smile, the clipped words. The gradual squirming in his presence like he carried a weight they couldn’t bear to be near.

But instead, she grinned.

“Well, that explains your appearance the day I met you,” she said lightly, a teasing lilt in her voice. “And your appetite.” She winked.

Bucky blinked. That wasn’t the reaction he’d prepared for.

Before he could respond, she continued. “It’s not my place to say, but… you’ve had it hard, Bucky. I saw the look on your face when I brought this up, so let me be clear: this changes nothing.” She leaned forward slightly, meeting his eyes. “I know it could be hard sometimes, with the people… but not in here.”

Bucky stared at her, the usual quick retorts or excuses dying on his tongue. He didn’t know what to say. The sincerity in her voice and the calmness in the way she addressed the subject without making him feel exposed, caught him off guard.

“Thanks,” he finally said, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

She nodded, curving her lips into a small smile, but instead of leaving it at that, she hesitated. “That being said…” Her voice softened. “According to the commemorative plate, your birthday was last week.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed. He hadn’t even remembered.

“So,” she said, bending down behind the counter, “here.” When she straightened up, she held a small plum tart, dusted with powdered sugar. “I couldn’t put all the candles on it for obvious reasons.” She chuckled softly as she gave him the little tray.

Bucky froze. The gesture hit him square in the chest, a pang so sharp and unexpected it made his breath hitch. He stared at the tart, feeling an ache rise in his throat. His lips trembled traitorously as he fought back the overwhelming surge of emotion.

She noticed his hesitation and tilted her head slightly. “It’s just a tart,” she said gently as if trying to assure him it was no big deal.

But to him, it was.

He reached out, taking the tart from her as if it were made of glass. His gloved fingers brushed the edge of the plate and he swallowed hard. His voice, barely above a whisper, cracked as he said, “Thank you.”

Bucky didn’t trust himself to look at her. He stared down at the pastry, his grip tightening around the edges of the plate as he worked to steady his breathing. It had been so long since anyone had done something this thoughtful for him, that he didn’t know how to react.

Watching his reaction, she faltered. Her earlier confidence dimmed as doubt crept into her expression. She fidgeted with her apron, glancing away briefly before blurting out, “I, um… sorry for bothering you. If I overstepped-”

“No.” The word came out sharper than he meant, and she froze. He took a breath, forcing his voice to steady. “You didn’t,” he said again, gentler this time. “You just surprised me here, doll, that’s all.”

Her gaze softened, searching his face, and he didn’t look away this time. His walls weren’t fully down -when were they ever?- but the rawness in his eyes couldn’t be hidden, the unshed tears glimmering with the lights.

Her lips parted, then closed again, like she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if it was her place. She shifted her weight, her fingers lightly tapping the counter. “It’s not much,” she said after a beat, her tone quiet but sincere. “Just a little thing I thought might make you smile.”

“It’s more than you know,” Bucky murmured then he cleared his throat and adjusted the bags in his hand, needing something to focus on besides the growing ache in his chest. “I, uh… I appreciate it,” he said, a little awkwardly.

Her smile grew, and she reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Good,” she said simply. “You deserve something nice.”

That threw him off even more. He stared at her, stunned by the ease with which she said it, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

His throat tightened, and he looked away, unable to meet her gaze any longer. “Thanks,” he muttered, his voice gravelly as he turned toward the door.

“Bucky?”

He stopped, glancing back over his shoulder.

“I just remembered that I didn’t tell you, Happy birthday,”

He nodded once, gripping the bags a little tighter as he pushed the door open and stepped into the cool night air, which did little to clear the fog in his head.

You deserve something nice. He almost scoffed aloud. Nice? Someone like him? Someone who couldn’t go a single day without being haunted by the weight of his past?

The world had a funny way of reminding him where he stood. Steve was gone. The man who believed in him more than anyone else had handed over the shield, and with it, Bucky felt like the last tether to the person he used to be had been severed. Now, it was just him. And no matter how hard he tried to fix things, make amends, or find a shred of normalcy, the past always had its claws in him.

But tonight, she had looked at him and seen something other than the broken pieces. She hadn’t flinched when she figured out who he was. She hadn’t spat accusations or looked at him with the fear or pity he was used to. Instead, she smiled and handed him a damn tart for his birthday, a day he hadn’t even remembered until she brought it up.

Maybe… He shook his head as he walked, his boots crunching hard against the pavement. Don’t get attached.

Still, he glanced down at the tart again, its delicate powdered sugar glinting under the streetlights and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, almost involuntarily.

----

One rainy night, Bucky was already imagining the taste of a prune cupcake when he reached the bakery and found the door closed.

His brows furrowed as he noted the light spilling from the kitchen and the neatly arranged merchandise still on display. That was odd. He stepped closer, intending to knock on the glass, but hesitated. If she had closed up, there must’ve been a reason. Why would she open just for him?

He turned to leave, but the sound of a long, creative string of curses froze him mid-step. His frown deepened. Maybe she was arguing with Liam or a boyfriend, or... why was he still standing there?

Then came a sharp scream of pain.

Before his mind could process, his body moved on its own. He pushed the wooden door open with a single fluid motion of his vibranium hand and rushed toward the kitchen, ready to confront whoever was causing her harm.

He wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him.

She was alone. Entirely alone.

Barefoot, her jeans rolled at the cuffs, and wearing nothing but a lacy black bra on top. She was gripping one foot and hopping in place, her other hand clutching the edge of the counter for balance. Her face was scrunched in pain, a bead of sweat trickling down her temple.

She froze as he appeared in the doorway, locking her wide eyes onto his.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

“Bucky?!” she finally exclaimed, her voice was a mix of mortification and disbelief. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“I heard you scream,” he said, still on high alert. “I thought- I mean, I thought someone was-”

Well, someone isn’t!” she snapped, waving her arms for emphasis before wincing and clutching her foot again. “What are you… how did you even…”

“The door wasn’t locked,” he said simply, lifting his vibranium hand as if that explained everything.

She stared at him. “You broke my door, didn’t you?”

“Technically, I opened it.”

Her shoulders slumped as she let out a groan.

“What happened?” he asked, softening his tone as he noted the red welt forming on her foot.

She gestured toward a hulking machine in the corner, a sour expression on her face. “The kneading machine broke,” she grumbled. “It’s Liam’s day off, so I have to knead all the dough by hand. I got frustrated and kicked the stupid thing.” She pointed to the offending piece of equipment as though it were an enemy in battle.

Bucky’s lips twitched, but he quickly schooled his expression. “And it fought back?”

Her glare could’ve melted steel, but then her expression shifted, and she seemed to remember her current state of undress. Quickly, she crossed her arms over her chest, though the movement only served to push her curves together.

Bucky’s jaw tightened as he fought to keep his gaze locked firmly on her face. He swallowed hard, feeling the distinct burn of self-restraint in every muscle.

“Can you throw me that shirt?” she asked, jerking her chin toward a crumpled white button-up draped over a stool.

“Sure,” he muttered, grabbing it and tossing it her way.

“Turn around?” she added pointedly, feeling her cheeks going warm.

He obeyed instantly, facing the wall and rubbing the back of his neck. “Why, uh… why were you like that anyway?” he asked, his voice low and awkward.

“It’s hot,” she replied, a little grumpy. “The kitchen’s like an oven with all the equipment running, and kneading all that dough by hand isn’t exactly cooling me off. Plus, I was alone. Or so I thought.”

“Right,” Bucky murmured, feeling a little ridiculous for barging in like that. He’d been ready to throw down with some imaginary attacker, and instead, he’d walked in on… well, on a very memorable scene.

The mental image of her, half naked and glistening, burned behind his eyelids, and he clenched his fists at his sides. He didn’t need his mind going there, not now, not ever.

The sound of her shifting behind him broke his thoughts. “Okay, decent,” she said.

He turned back around, carefully keeping his expression neutral. She was now buttoning up the shirt, but her hair was still mussed. He cleared his throat.

“Want me to help kneading?” he blurted out, the words escaping before he could think them through.

She froze mid-button, blinking at him. “You want to… knead dough?”

“Let’s just say I can put that piece of junk to shame,” he said, nodding toward the broken machine. “Only… you have to teach me how. Then I’ll do it. It’s not a big deal.”

Her lips parted as if to protest, but she hesitated, seemingly caught off guard. After a moment, she shook her head. “That’s sweet, but I can’t ask you to do that. It’ll take a lot of time.”

“I have time,” Bucky replied evenly. He didn’t add that the alternative was staring at the ceiling of his living room, trying to fend off the ghosts in his head and praying for a few nightmare-free hours.

She looked at him, clearly debating, catching her bottom lip between her teeth in a way that momentarily distracted him.

“Plus,” he added with a faint shrug, “I won’t raise your electric bill, and I won’t get tired.”

A soft laugh escaped her before she could stop it. Finally, she exhaled and nodded. “Alright, if you’re sure. But don’t say I didn’t warn you, this is serious manual labor.”

“I’ve handled worse,” he said with a small smirk, rolling up his sleeves.

“Okay, tough guy,” she replied, her tone half-teasing as she gestured toward the counter. “Let’s see if you can handle my kitchen.”

He stepped up beside her, and as she began to explain the technique, Bucky couldn’t help but notice how the frustration in her features softened, replaced by something almost playful. It wasn’t often he felt useful outside of a mission or a fight, but in this warm, flour-dusted bakery, it felt like he could do something… normal.

Lost in thought, he didn’t notice her watching him. When he did, he realized she was waiting for a response.

“Uh…” he mumbled. It seemed she had been talking and he didn’t listen to a word.

“It’s okay if you don’t get it at first, here, give me your hand.” Before he could protest, she grabbed his hand, shoved a dough ball into his palm, and flipped it downward. Then her smaller hand slid over his, her heel pressing into the back of his hand to guide the motion.

“Like this,” she murmured, leaning just a little closer to ensure he could see. Her hand pressed forward in firm, rhythmic motions and the dough yielded under the combined force of their hands. Then she rotated the dough and repeated the motion, with deliberate pushes.

Bucky froze as the rhythmic pressure of her hand over his sent his mind somewhere it absolutely shouldn’t go. The heat in the kitchen suddenly felt suffocating, and he swallowed hard, trying to focus on the dough and not on the fact that her motions were… suggestive.

She was entirely unaware of his inner turmoil, focused on the task at hand. “See? You push like this and turn it. Then repeat.”

Her voice was calm and matter-of-fact, but Bucky’s traitorous mind kept replaying the way her body had looked earlier in that lacy bra, barefooted and glistening with sweat, and now her hand was on his, guiding movements that mirrored-

“Got it,” he blurted, pulling his hand away like the dough had burned him.

She blinked at him, surprised. “You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve got it,” he said quickly, flexing his fingers. “Why don’t you, uh… go open the store or something? You can sell the ready stuff, and I’ll finish here.”

Her brow furrowed, then she smirked. “Show me you can handle it first. Then I’ll go.”

Bucky nodded stiffly and got to work, kneading the dough with an intensity that had less to do with the task and more with willing his body and thoughts to calm down. He focused on each push, each turn, determined not to let his mind wander again.

After a moment, she hummed in approval. “Not bad. Alright, you’ve got this.” Tossing him an apron, she added with a grin, “Kitchen’s all yours.”

As she walked out, Bucky let out a long breath and grabbed a ridiculous amount of mid-mixed dough from the machine, barely registering its weight in his hands. He tied the apron around his waist, muttering something about how he’d never live this down if Sam found out, then plunged his hands into the dough with more force than necessary. The soft, yielding texture offered little resistance, and the repetitive motion gave him something to focus on, something to redirect the tension simmering under his skin.

Meanwhile, out front, she was practically buzzing. Well, besides the door incident -she’d have to figure out how to fix that later- and the fact he’d seen her in little more than her bra, the night hadn’t gone completely off the rails. She paused, glancing toward the kitchen and biting her lip.

The idea that Bucky Barnes was in her kitchen, sleeves rolled up, forearms flexing as he worked dough like it was his mortal enemy, was surreal. Even in her wildest fantasies -and she’d had plenty- she’d never imagined this scenario.

She distracted herself by greeting a couple of late-night customers, all while sneaking glances toward the kitchen door. But the thought of having him there with flour dusting his strong hands, focused and serious, made her heart flip every time she let her mind wander free.

Back in the kitchen, Bucky gritted his teeth, determined to keep his focus on the task. He flattened the dough with swift, decisive movements, his vibranium arm doing the flips as his flesh one did the work. But even as he forced himself to concentrate, he couldn’t shake the memory of her soft hand on his, guiding him with firm pressure.

Fuck.

---

When he finally finished kneading the massive ball of dough, he stood there, staring at the smooth mound, realizing he had no idea what to do next. With a resigned sigh, he called out for her. “It’s ready,” he said, motioning to the dough. “Now what?”

“That’s for common bread. We let it rise for about half an hour, then shape it, let it rise again, and bake it.”

“Oh,” he said flatly. “So... you just wait?”

She nodded. “Yep.”

“Great,” he replied, crossing his arms. “Guess I’ll hang around. Liam’s not here, so you’d be stuck doing all this yourself. That can’t be easy, it’s a lot of dough.”

She tilted her head, clearly debating. “I’m used to it when it’s necessary.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you kicking me out?”

Her eyes widened slightly. “N-no!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he teased, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

She rolled her eyes, exhaling through her nose. “Want a coffee while we wait?”

He nodded. “Sure.”

They moved to the front of the shop, mugs in hand, settling into a more relaxed atmosphere. The conversation was light, drifting from coffee preferences to the quirks of late-night customers. The rain drummed against the windows, adding a cozy backdrop to the talk.

Then the bell above the door chimed, and two bikers strolled in.

Bucky’s eyes immediately snapped to them, stiffening his posture as he took them in. They were soaked, leather jackets gleaming under the fluorescent light. What caught him off guard wasn’t their appearance, it was their manners. The pair paused at the entrance, brushing their wet boots on the doormat before entering the shop.

“Evening, Y/n,” one of them said casually, nodding in her direction as they made their way to the counter.

Bucky stared, measuring them with a sharp gaze, his body language was calm but alert. He didn’t miss how their eyes briefly flicked to him, assessing, before focusing on her.

“Hey, Daniel, Jack,” she greeted them with an easy familiarity. “Usual?”

“Yeah, and maybe throw in one of those custard tarts,” one of them added, grinning.

As she moved behind the counter to prepare their order, Bucky leaned back slightly, still watching them. He wasn’t sure what he expected from the so-called “local bikers,” but brushing their boots off before entering wasn’t on the list.

One of them glanced his way again, tipping his chin in acknowledgment. “Friend of yours?”

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Helper for the night.”

Bucky just gave a faint nod. He wasn’t entirely sure why their casual familiarity rubbed him the wrong way, but something about how they interacted with her -relaxed, like they belonged- made him tense.

“So, Cookie,” the taller of the two bikers said, his deep voice carrying an easy familiarity. He had a Viking-style haircut, the sides of his head shaved while the top was long and braided, matching the beard he wore. “We swung by earlier, but you were closed. Anything amiss?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed slightly at the nickname. Cookie?

“Oh, just old Edna broke, again,” she replied with a sigh, gesturing toward the kitchen. “I was trying to figure out what to do.”

The biker’s face broke into a knowing grin. “Y’should’ve called me. You know I’d have ‘er running again in a snap.”

She gave him a sheepish look. “It’s awful outside Jack, and Bucky here helped me out a lot. I was going to call you tomorrow, maybe take the day off.”

The biker’s gaze shifted to Bucky with a curious expression, if not slightly probing. “Did he, now?”

Bucky didn’t flinch, didn’t blink, just stared back at him.

She stepped in quickly, a cheerful note in her voice. “Well, here you go, guys,” she said, setting their bags of pastries and the requested custard tart on the counter.

But before she could finish ringing them up, Daniel added something to the order, sending her back to grab another treat.

With her out of earshot, the viking-wannabe fixed his gaze on Bucky again. “There somethin’ on ma face?” he asked, casual but a little edgy.

Bucky shrugged, relaxed, but his steel-blue eyes locked onto the man without wavering. “Nope.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, the tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

Bucky tilted his head slightly, “You know, Cookie, I was thinking of stopping by tomorrow to fix the kneader myself.” His gaze never left the biker’s. “Don’t think your customers must stray from their duties.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out, the biker let out a low chuckle, his smile more challenging than amused.

“Well, it won’t be a bother,” he drawled, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Since I always take care of Edna.”

Bucky’s lips quirked up in a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sure you do.”

Somehow, she felt left out of the conversation. The way they stared each other down, the sharpness in their tones, it didn’t seem like they were talking about Edna anymore. It was like…

“C’mon, Jack,” the second biker interjected, breaking the thick silence, though his tone carried a subtle edge of warning. “The guys are waitin’. Cookie here will tell ya if she needs anythin’, won’t ya?”

She nodded quickly, eager to shift the mood, and handed over their order. “Yeah, of course. Thanks for always helping out.” Her smile was warm but a little strained as she accepted their payment.

Jack lingered for a bit, gaze still locked on Bucky’s. The other biker sighed and patted him on the arm. “At least help with somethin’, huh?” he added, shoving a large paper bag into his chest.

The man finally broke eye contact, muttering something under his breath as he grabbed the bag and turned toward the door. But before he turned to leave, he glanced back over his shoulder, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Don’t forget, Cookie, you know who to call if you need real help.”

Bucky’s jaw ticked, the faintest sign of irritation flashing in his eyes. He leaned back against the counter, one hand casually resting on the edge, but the tension in his shoulders gave him away. “Sure thing,” he drawled, “If it comes to that, I’ll make sure she doesn’t have to wait.”

The implication in his words wasn’t lost on Jack, whose smirk faltered for just a second before he turned and strode out, the other biker following with an exasperated shake of his head.

As the door swung shut, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Well,” she said, attempting to sound lighthearted, “that was… something.”

Bucky’s gaze softened as he turned back to her, though the tension in his posture remained. “They always this ‘friendly’?”

She laughed awkwardly, brushing her hands on her apron. “Oh, they are, actually. They just get a little protective sometimes, you know? Like I’m their sister or something. Maybe they were just surprised to see you back here.”

He tilted his head, twitching his lips in what might’ve been a smile, but his eyes didn’t match the expression. “A sister, huh?”

She nodded, oblivious to the undercurrent in his tone, and started busying herself by tidying up the counter. To her, it was just Jack and his usual overbearing charm. But to Bucky, it was something else entirely.

Even as he tried to relax, his mind kept replaying the interaction. The way that guy had stood too close, his words heavy with meaning, the subtle posturing was anything but brotherly. Bucky had seen it all before, in darker and rougher places than this warm, flour-dusted bakery.

Except this time, it wasn’t just about dominance or some unspoken challenge. It was about her. And for reasons he wasn’t ready to name, that thought didn’t sit well with him at all.

“So," she started, cutting through the silence and his spiraling thoughts, "you were serious when you said you could fix the machine?"

"Yeah," he replied, keeping his face carefully neutral. "It’ll be a piece of cake."

Piece of cake, he repeated in his mind, trying to suppress the small pang of regret creeping up his spine. Sure, he had a working knowledge of mechanics, he’d helped Sam fix his boat, after all. But that had been different. Boats were his element, like motorcycles or cars. A fifty-year-old kneading machine? Well, he’ll find out tomorrow.

His impulsive desire to impress her -and maybe stake some kind of invisible claim- had won out. Now, all he could do was hope the thing wasn’t an unreadable mess.

She glanced at the clock and brushed her hands together. “Alright, time to give shape to the bread. It’s risen enough.”

Without missing a beat, she led the way back into the kitchen. The warm, yeasty air mingled with her faint perfume, wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.

She grabbed a portion of the dough and began to demonstrate. “Okay, so these are the basics,” she said, her fingers moving deftly. “For buns, you just roll the dough into smooth balls. Like this.” She cupped her hands around the dough, rolling it against the counter in a quick, practiced motion until it was perfectly round. “Braids and baguettes are a little trickier. The braids are just three strands, like hair. And baguettes, well, you stretch and roll them into shape. But you can stick with the buns for now, they’re easier.”

Bucky nodded, reaching for a piece of dough. He hesitated for a moment, as the memory of her hand guiding his earlier flashed in his mind. His throat tightened, and he focused on the dough, rolling it between his hands.

“Like this?” he asked, holding up a slightly lopsided bun.

She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Almost. Use the heel of your hand a little more to smooth it out. Here.” She stepped closer, brushing her fingers lightly over his. This time, she didn’t guide him directly, but the proximity was enough to make his heart thud against his ribs.

He adjusted his grip and tried again, and she gave an approving nod. “There you go. See? You’re a natural.”

As they worked side by side, she kept talking. “Most of this will have to go on sale tomorrow, probably at half price. But having you here is a real help. If I’d had to do all this alone, I might’ve had to throw some of the dough out.”

Her words struck a chord, and a pang of happiness settled in his chest. It wasn’t much, just a small acknowledgment of his effort, but it filled a hollow part of him he didn’t even realize was there.

He stole a glance at her as she focused on a braid, her hands working the dough with practiced ease. A strand of hair had fallen loose, brushing against her cheek. She pushed it back with her wrist, leaving a faint streak of flour across her temple. It made her look effortlessly endearing, and he quickly averted his eyes, focusing back on the dough in his hands.

Unbeknownst to him, she was doing the same. She caught glimpses of him as he worked, his broad shoulders hunched slightly, his calloused flesh hand and the vibranium one surprisingly gentle as he shaped the dough. Something was captivating about how he moved, so deliberate yet careful, like he was afraid of breaking something.

“Looks like you’re getting the hang of it,” she said, glancing over at his growing pile of buns.

“Yeah, well,” he replied, rolling another piece of dough under his palms. “Not exactly rocket science.”

She chuckled, “I don’t know. You’ve got a good touch. It took me a week to get my buns to look that smooth while doing it swiftly.”

Every time their gazes met -accidentally, fleetingly- it was like a spark flared in the air between them. Then, one of them would quickly look away, snapping their attention back to the dough. It was a quiet rhythm of stolen glances and fleeting touches, building a connection that felt as tangible as the dough in their hands.

-----

The bread was neatly shaped and lined up on trays, ready to rise once more before its final trip to the oven. She covered the trays with damp cloths, brushing her hands on her apron as she glanced at the clock. “Alright, now we wait again. Should be ready for the oven in about half an hour.”

Bucky nodded, stepping back to let her take the lead. “You need me to do anything else?”

“Not right now,” she replied with a small smile. “I’ll take care of the customers while we wait. You can… I don’t know, hang out if you want?”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Sure.”

She disappeared into the front of the shop, the bell over the door jingling faintly as a pair of officers entered. Bucky leaned against the doorframe, watching her from the kitchen as she greeted them warmly.

“Evening, boys. The usual?”

“Yup. Two coffees and a box of donuts,” one of the cops said, glancing over at Bucky briefly. His partner followed the look, squinting slightly before his eyes widened.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the officer said, his voice respectful but tinged with curiosity.

Bucky stiffened slightly at being at being recognized, but he nodded. “Good evening.”

The officer hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “Uh, sorry if this is out of line, but… would it be okay if I got a picture with you?”

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, glancing at her for a brief second. She offered him an encouraging smile, and he finally nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

The officer grinned and handed his phone to his partner. They stood together for the picture, Bucky keeping his usual neutral expression, though the officer looked thrilled.

As the partner handed the phone back, he chuckled, glancing between Bucky and her. “Didn’t know you were friends with Cookie here. Lucky you, she’s got the best donuts in the neighborhood.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, but she laughed and rolled her eyes before he could say anything. “Alright, enough buttering me up. Your coffee’s getting cold.”

The cops thanked her again, waved at Bucky, and headed out, leaving the shop quiet once more.

He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he looked at her. “So… they call you Cookie too, huh?”

She chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “It’s just a nickname my grandma gave me when I was little. She used to call me her little cookie because I’d sneak cookie dough every time she baked. I guess it stuck, and eventually, the regulars picked it up, too.”

“Little cookie,” he repeated, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Does it bother you?”

“Not really,” she said, shrugging. “It’s kind of sweet, actually”

Bucky hummed in response, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful. “Fits you.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the compliment, but before she could respond, he straightened up. “Guess I’ll head out now. I’ll be back tomorrow to take a look at that machine. Ah… actually... I owe you one more thing.”

Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“The door,” he admitted, glancing toward it sheepishly. “Remember I kind of... broke it thinking you were in trouble?”

Her mouth opened slightly in realization, and for a fleeting moment, the two of them were transported back to that chaotic instant, him storming into the kitchen, with his eyes wild with concern, only to find her jumping in her bra, startled but unharmed.

A faint heat rose to her cheeks, and she quickly looked down, busying her hands with the edge of her apron. “Right. The door,” she said, a touch higher than usual.

“I’ll run up to my place and grab a chain and a lock,” he offered, clearly trying to sound casual, though the tips of his ears were suspiciously red. “It’s not much, but it’ll hold until you can get it fixed.”

“That’s... really thoughtful of you,” she said softly, sneaking a glance at him. “Thanks.”

He nodded once, tightening his jaw slightly as if bracing himself, before turning toward the door. “Wait here. I’ll be quick.”

-------

When he returned, he carried a chain and lock in hand, the metal clinking softly as he stepped through the door. Without a word, he moved to the broken door and began securing the temporary fix, his movements sure and steady. She stayed nearby, her arms crossed lightly over her apron, watching him work.

“Will you manage to close up on your own?” he asked, testing the chain one last time to ensure it held.

She nodded, her lips curving into a faint smile. “I’ll be fine.”

He lingered momentarily at the doorway, meeting her gaze as though debating whether to press further. Instead, he simply stepped back, giving her a small, almost shy smirk. “Alright, then.”

He turned toward the door, pausing just long enough to glance back over his shoulder. “Goodnight, Cookie.”

The nickname rolled off his tongue with ease, leaving her a little stunned as the bell over the door jingled behind him.

-----

That night, she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling as the evening replayed itself in vivid detail. Every stolen glance, every fleeting touch, every word exchanged lingered in her mind, refusing to let her settle into sleep. She rolled over, grabbing a pillow and hugging it tightly, only to let out a muffled squeal, burying her face in the fabric.

It all felt like something out of a novel, the kind her grandmother used to read, with their slow-burn tension and moments of unexpected closeness. Him standing there in her kitchen, sleeves rolled up, kneading dough with those ridiculously strong hands. The warmth of his smirk when he called her "Cookie" before leaving.

She sighed, turning onto her back again, staring at the dim glow of the streetlight filtering through her curtains. Don’t get carried away, she reminded herself. He was… Bucky Barnes, for crying out loud. The man probably had a private life he kept well-guarded. Dating, maybe even a girlfriend waiting for him somewhere. Someone who could offer him more than just late-night baking disasters and a small-town charm bubble in the big city.

“Oh, whatever,” she mumbled, throwing an arm over her face. It was free to fantasize, right? Just a harmless indulgence in the possibilities, no matter how far-fetched.

----

Bucky lay on the couch in his apartment, replaying the events of the night on a loop in his mind. Her hand, firm yet soft, guiding his against the dough in that rhythmic motion. He could still feel her touch and her warmth seeping into his skin. He groaned softly, shifting as he became acutely aware of the pang of need stirring under his sweatpants.

“Damn it,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. Was he really that touch-starved? The answer was obvious.

But then another thought struck him, one that pulled his focus away from his frustration. Her touch hadn’t made him uncomfortable. Not in the way he’d grown used to: tensing, the inevitable flinch, or the tightening of his chest. No, being near her, having her hands on his, had done the opposite in a way he hadn’t felt in years -decades-.

His mind shifted to the kneading machine. He had all but volunteered to fix the thing, despite only a vague knowledge of how it worked. He cursed under his breath, drowning in anxiety as he realized he could very well embarrass himself tomorrow. She’d been so grateful, trusted him so easily. The last thing he wanted was to let her down.

Then there was the other thing, the background he could never escape. Even though she’d been cool about it. He was damaged goods, and he knew that, but still... a part of him wanted her to notice him.

To see him, Bucky, the guy who helped her in the kitchen, who wanted to make her smile, who was ready to spend hours fixing her stupid kneading machine just for the excuse to see her again.

Fuck. This was going to be one of those nights.

----

By the time morning gave way to the agreed-upon hour, Bucky found himself standing outside the bakery, a hand tucked into his jacket pocket as he knocked on the glass of the front door. He might -or might not- have put some effort into dressing for the occasion, trading his usual hoodie for a henley that clung just enough to hint at his physique under his jacket. Still, the dark circles under his eyes betrayed his sleepless night.

She appeared from the back, wiping her hands on a flour-dusted towel, and her face lit up as she spotted him.

“Cookie,” he greeted with a faint smirk as she unlocked the door and pulled it open.

“Sergeant,” she replied, the corner of her mouth quirking up in amusement.

The exchange felt oddly natural, like a line out of an old movie. She opened the door with a soft laugh, stepping aside to let him in. He strolled toward the back, the scent of freshly baked bread of the previous night lingering in the air as she followed.

“Let’s see the beast,” he said, nodding toward the old kneader, circling once like a predator sizing up its prey.

“All yours” she answered, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter. “Think you can handle it?”

He shot her a mock-serious glance. “We’ll see.”

As he studied the machine, his eyes flicked to the sturdy work table beside it.

“You got a cloth or something to cover this?”

She frowned slightly, her brows knitting together in confusion. “A cloth?”

“Something that can get dirty,” he clarified.

“Uh… sure.” She rummaged through a drawer and pulled out an old, slightly worn tablecloth, tossing it to him.

“Thanks,” he said, unfolding it and laying it across the table.

Her confusion deepened as he positioned himself beside the kneader. “What are you-”

She didn’t get to finish the question before Bucky gripped the sides of the heavy machine, lifting it like it weighed no more than a loaf of bread. He turned and placed it carefully on the table, adjusting it until it sat at an angle he deemed perfect for inspection.

She blinked, stunned for a moment before her lips parted in an incredulous laugh.

It wasn’t necessary, he could’ve worked on it just fine where it sat. But something in him wanted to do it anyway, to leave her watching, even if just for a moment.

She raised a brow, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter. There was a teasing glint in her eyes when she said, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to impress me.”

Bucky froze for a second, then, slowly, he turned his head to look at her with an unreadable expression at first. But then the corner of his mouth quirked up, softening his otherwise stoic features. “Did it work?” he asked, carrying just a hint of challenge.

She felt a flutter in her chest she wasn’t ready to name. Biting her lip to suppress a smile, she fought to keep her voice steady. “Fix Edna,” she quipped, tilting her chin toward the kneader as if to deflect the heat in the air, “and maybe I’ll tell you.”

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes, an almost boyish mischief that made her pulse quicken. “Challenge accepted,” he said, turning back to the machine.

As he bent over the kneader, his metal hand steadying it while his flesh one worked the bolts loose, she let herself watch him for a moment. Something was mesmerizing about the way he moved: deliberate, confident, his sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms that looked sculpted to dismantle things like this.

Luckily for Bucky, Edna really was a piece of cake. As he worked through the simple mechanics of the old machine, a wave of relief settled over him. He didn’t know why he’d been so preoccupied with the possibility of failure. Maybe it was because the stakes weren’t just about fixing a kneader, it was about proving himself in some quiet, unspoken way.

“Do you have a cable extension to test it?” he asked after reassembling the final part, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“Yeah, hang on,” she said, disappearing for a moment before returning with a long orange cord. She plugged it in, watching as he connected it to the machine.

When the kneader whirred to life, steady and smooth, she clapped her hands together once, the sound bright and cheerful in the warm kitchen. Her smile, wide and genuine, was aimed directly at him. “You did it!” she exclaimed, with a contagious enthusiasm.

Bucky felt a jolt in his chest, like a sudden surge of energy. That smile, so pure and full of warmth, made him feel capable of almost anything. For a brief moment, it silenced the nagging voices in his head that constantly questioned his worth.

He turned off the machine and lifted it again, carefully placing it back in its original spot. He adjusted it slightly, turning it until it sat exactly as it had before, deliberately and unhurriedly.

“Show-off,” she teased lightly, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Still riding the wave of her praise, he smirked, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands. “So?” he asked, with a tone just bordering on playful. “You have to tell me now if it worked.”

She blinked, momentarily knitting her brows in confusion. “What…oh,” she murmured. He wasn’t talking about the machine. Her mind flicked back to their earlier exchange, and warmth crept up her neck as she bit her lip, suddenly feeling all too shy under his gaze.

“How could I not be impressed?” she said softly, meeting his eyes with a hint of nervousness.

Bucky’s smirk lingered since her words boosted his confidence. “Good to know,” he replied in a low, almost intimate tone.

Her laughter came nervously, breaking the silence. “Alright, Mr. Fix-It, let’s not-”

She didn’t finish her sentence since Bucky, still high on boldness, took a step closer. “You know,” he started in a steady voice, despite the rapid thrum of his heart, “I’m starting to think impressing you might be my new favorite hobby.”

Her lips parted in surprise, “Bucky…”

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” he murmured, his flesh hand lifting just slightly, hovering near her arm as if waiting for permission.

She didn’t pull away. Instead, her nervous laugh melted into a smile, and her eyes locked onto his. “You’re not.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. Closing the gap between them, he leaned in, in a mix of deliberate but hesitant movements, like he feared the moment might shatter.

When their lips met, it was soft at first, a gentle, tentative connection that quickly deepened. Her hands instinctively rested against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palms.

For Bucky, the world seemed to narrow to just this: the warmth of her lips, the faint scent of flour and sugar on her skin, and the way she melted into him as if she belonged there.

When they let go, her eyes fluttered open, wide and searching, and her lips parted as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

“Wow,” she breathed finally, the word barely audible but carrying all the wonder she couldn’t express.

Bucky’s gaze flicked between her eyes and her slightly swollen lips. His own breath was uneven, and his voice rough as he muttered, “Yeah. Wow.”

She let out a nervous laugh, her cheeks warm as she glanced down, only for him to tilt her chin up with a gentle finger. His expression had softened, the earlier mischief replaced by something more vulnerable.

Without waiting for her to pull away -or maybe daring her to- he leaned in again. This time, there was no hesitation, no careful testing. The second kiss was deeper, and more purposeful, stealing her breath away.

She responded instinctively, slipping her arms around his shoulders as she pressed closer. His metal hand found her waist, firm and steady, while his flesh one cradled her jaw, brushing his thumb along her cheek in a tender contrast to the intensity of the kiss.

The world outside the bakery seemed to fade, and when they finally broke apart, breathing heavily, her voice was soft, almost shy, as she finally managed to say, “If that’s how you fix things, maybe Edna should break more often.”

Bucky chuckled lowly, trailing his fingers down her arm as he leaned back just enough to see her face. “Careful, there,” he replied with boyish grin. “I might start breaking things on purpose.”

She laughed, shaking her head as her hands lingered against his chest. “Just… don’t let it be my heart, okay?”

The teasing glint in his eyes softened at her words, replaced by something deeper that made her heart race again.

“Never,” he promised leaning in slightly, nearly touching her forehead with his. Slowly, deliberately, his body shifted closer, bracketing his hands on her sides, palms resting lightly on the edge of the workbench, gently caging her in.

“If you have me, doll…” His voice softened, laced with a husky tremor, as though each word was pulled from the deepest parts of him. He paused, pressing his lips together briefly, while his gaze flickered uncertainly. She could see the struggle in his eyes, the weight of unspoken fears and hopes battling within him. “I’ll treasure you the way you deserve.”

There he was, exposed and raw, offering her the most vulnerable parts of himself. And she saw it all, the battered pieces, the scars both seen and unseen, and the wonder in his expression that someone like her could even consider him worth it.

All the previous cockiness evaporated as he waited for her response, his breath caught in his chest. He didn’t move, didn’t dare.

She blinked up at him, parting her lips slightly as her hands lifted from where they rested against the workbench. For a heartbeat, she hesitated, before reaching out, tracing the curve of his jaw.

“You already do,” she whispered. Her thumb brushed the faint stubble on his cheek, and she smiled softly, a mixture of disbelief and certainty shining in her eyes. She rose onto her toes and brought her lips to his. The kiss was more deliberate this time, an answer in every sense, with a confidence that left no room for doubt. When she pulled back slightly, she looked into his hooded eyes. “I’ll take care of you too, Bucky. I promise, " she said tenderly.

His lips curved into a rare, radiant smile, one that softened every hard edge of his tired face. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at her with such unguarded joy it made her heart flutter all over again. Then, without warning, his strong hands found her waist, and he lifted her effortlessly off the ground.

She gasped, a delighted laugh spilling from her lips as he spun her around, the room blurring for a moment as the motion carried them both. His own low chuckle mingled with hers, a sound so rich and full like a victory, a triumph for once,  over the weight he’d been carrying for so long.

When he set her down gently, he kept his hands on her waist, and she leaned into him, their laughter fading into a warm, contented silence as she rested her hands against his chest. His heart raced beneath her palms, matching her erratic pulse.

They didn’t need to say anything more. At this moment, their shared warmth in the dusty floured kitchen was enough. The world and the rhythm of the weekday could wait a little longer.

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[buckets-and-trees]

Mob Bucky respects your own financial independence, but he also made sure you have access to his black card and use it when you need it. He doesn't care what you spend the money on, especially since the notification he gets those very rare times that you use his money is to buy something most practical or for your shared apartment.

However, he does not expect to see a notification for the purchase of some sex toys 😏

CHOCOLATE

Collection: DEVOUR Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!James Buchanan Barnes x Female!Chef!Reader Word Count: 5.6k Timeline: Takes place 1-2 weeks after mint, 2-3 weeks after heat.

Content & Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT - vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, creampie, food play, breeding kink. Feelings, so many feelings.

Author Notes: Surprise! At some points during the 2200 Followers Celebration poll, Devour Bucky and Chef were actually winning, so here's something I started months and months ago and brought out to finish for them. It's not quite everything from your ask, Eva, but I hope it's a satisfying scenario all the same...

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You had known the exact moment your fiancé – mob boss, venture capitalist, or philanthropist depending on who you asked and what they knew – got the notification of your purchase.

James Buchanan Barnes had given you a black card weeks ago, before the engagement, but you hadn’t used it until this week. Bucky had gone to Chicago for business (and you were sure he was there for business as well), and instead of staying home and pining away for him, you decided to treat yourself. The notification must have pinged his phone during a meeting, because exactly 47 minutes later, your own phone lit up with his name.

"What's this Cartier expense I see?" his voice a dangerous mix of amusement and curiosity.

You swallowed hard, fingering the velvet box in your lap. "Just a little shopping therapy while you're away. Nothing to worry about."

"Mmm," he hummed, unconvinced. "And here I thought I was the one who was supposed to shower you with gifts."

"Well," you said, "maybe I wanted to surprise you for once."

There was a pause, and you could almost see him leaning back in his chair, a predatory smile spreading across his face. "I suppose I am a little surprised you finally used the card. But how about a challenge?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Why don’t you see if you can shock me with a purchase?”

“Challenge accepted. What do I get?”

He chuckled. “You already know I’ll give you the world.”

Butterflies surged in your stomach. This man.

“You’re back Saturday afternoon?” you confirmed.

“Yes,” he growled. “There’s a round of golf I can’t seem to move or negotiate.”

You sighed softly. “It’s only three more days.”

“I like that you miss me.”

You huffed but couldn’t deny it.

“I’m missing you, too,” he said.

“James…” you breathed.

“Did you get the gift I sent?”

“I did.” A stunning, six-foot mirror with an ornate, gold-gilded frame had been delivered that morning to your apartment and placed in your bedroom.

“I was taken with how beautiful it was and you were my first thought.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I love you,” you said.

“I love you, too. I have to go. We’ll talk later.”

When you woke up Friday morning, you knew exactly how to shock him with the black card.

Or at least tease him.

The high-end, ridiculously expensive lingerie boutique you never thought you would enter in your lifetime - Boudoir.

The response to that expense notification was immediate, and you smirked when you read the text that came through.

JAMES: You have my interest piqued.

You thought for a moment, then typed out a reply.

YOU: Thought maybe I’d see if I can shock you and send some photos of what I got later tonight.

Three dots appeared straight away, and then

JAMES: Forget photos, I’ll fly out tonight straight away after my meeting with Levinson and come straight to you.

Your breath caught in your throat, heart swelling with adoration, anticipation, and maybe just a touch of nerves. You looked up the latest flights out of Chicago, and couldn’t help feeling a little forlorn. Even though the restaurant head chef life meant late nights for work, it would still be an ungodly hour when he landed.

YOU: I’ll try to stay up, but promise to wake me up if I’m asleep?

Again, you didn't have to wait long for his reply.

JAMES: I promise. Nothing could keep me from you tonight.

A shiver ran down your spine at his words. You glanced at the clock - it was barely noon. The hours until his arrival stretched before you, filled with anticipation and nervous energy. You busied yourself with things before work, trying to focus on anything other than the ticking clock and the bag from Boudoir sitting in your closet.

At Devour your mind was engaged fully in your craft and working with your team.

But once you returned home after the Friday night dinner service, you found yourself pacing the apartment, unable to settle. Should you put on the lingerie now? Wait until you heard from him? You compromised by showering and doing your hair and makeup, then slipping into a silky robe.

Just as you were debating whether to pour yourself a glass of wine to calm your nerves, your phone pinged.

JAMES: Landed. On my way to you.

Far earlier than you expected him, but a good thing, too.

Your heart raced as you read his message. You quickly made your way to the bedroom, retrieving the Boudoir bag from the closet with trembling hands. The delicate lace and silk felt cool against your skin as you slipped into the lingerie, adjusting the straps and garters with care. You stood before the new mirror James had sent, admiring how the deep, rich color complemented your skin tone. The set hugged your curves in all the right places. Standing before the mirror James had gifted you, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of confidence.

A text alert broke your reverie.

JAMES: Five minutes.

You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over the silky fabric once more before draping the robe back over your shoulders. You dimmed the lights in the bedroom and lit a few candles, creating a soft, inviting ambiance.

The sound of a key in the lock made your pulse quicken. You perched on the edge of the bed, listening as Bucky’s footsteps approached.

The bedroom door opened slowly, and he stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. His gaze was intense, a mix of hunger and adoration that made your breath catch in your throat. Would you ever get used to the way he looked at you?

"Well," he said, his voice low and gravelly, "this is certainly a welcome home."

You stood, your fingers toying with the tie of your robe. "I thought you might appreciate a little preview of my shopping spree."

He set a golden box on your dresser and then moved closer, his steps deliberate and predatory. He reached out, running his fingers along the edge of your robe. "May I?"

You nodded, your heart racing as he slowly undid the tie and pushed the silky fabric off your shoulders. The robe pooled at your feet, leaving you standing before him in the exquisite lingerie.

Bucky inhaled sharply, his eyes roaming over every inch of you. "Beautiful.” His hands settled on your waist, pulling you flush against him. "Show me how much you missed me," he growled.

You leaned into him, tilting your head up to meet his intense gaze. "I thought you were going to show me how much you missed me," you teased, running your hands up his chest and over his shoulders.

He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Oh, I intend to," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "But first, I want to savor this moment. You've outdone yourself."

His hands roamed over the delicate lace and silk, tracing the curves of your body with a reverence that made your breath hitch. You could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt, the barely contained power in his muscles as he held you close.

“I thought you wouldn’t be here until much, much later,” you said, breathing in the scent of him, cologne mingled with his natural musk. “The flights I saw had landings after midnight.”

He snorted. “My private jet provides service according to my schedule, not anyone else’s.”

“Oh,” was your soft and surprised reaction, realizing you should not be at all surprised to learn he owned a private jet.

"Turn around, love," he commanded softly. "Let me see all of you."

You complied, slowly spinning to face the mirror. He stood behind you, his eyes meeting yours in the reflection. His hands skimmed down your sides, fingertips tracing the lace edges of your lingerie. You shivered at his touch, watching as his expression darkened with desire.

"Do you see how stunning you are?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "How every curve, every line of your body is a work of art?"

You leaned back against his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him. "I see how you look at me," you whispered. "That's what makes me feel beautiful."

You watched in the mirror as his lips trailed up your neck, his stubble scratching deliciously against your skin. Your breath quickened as one of his hands splayed across your stomach, pulling you back against him.

He growled low in his throat, his arms tightening around you. "You still have no idea what you do to me," he said, his voice rough with need. His fingers traced the edge of the lace at your hip.

You turned in his arms, reaching up to cup his face. "Then show me," you challenged, your eyes locked on his.

Impossibly, his eyes darkened even more at your words, a predatory smile curving his lips. In one fluid motion, he lifted you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His lips crashed against yours in a searing kiss as he carried you to the bed, laying you down with surprising gentleness.

"You want me to show you?" he growled, hovering over you. His fingers traced the delicate straps of your lingerie, sending shivers across your skin. "I'll show you exactly what you do to me."

He began a torturous exploration of your body, his lips and hands mapping every inch of you. The exquisite lingerie became both a barrier and a tantalizing tease as Bucky lavished attention on the exposed skin while skimming over the lace and silk. You arched into his touch, desperate for more.

"James," you breathed, your fingers threading through his hair. "Please…"

He chuckled against your skin, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Patience, love. I've been dreaming of you all week."

His talented fingers deftly unclasped the delicate hooks of your bra, slowly peeling the lace away to reveal your skin beneath. You gasped as the cool air hit your heated flesh, arching into his touch as he palmed your breasts.

"Beautiful," he murmured, lowering his head to trail kisses along your collarbone. "So fucking beautiful."

You tugged at his shirt, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against yours. "Too many clothes," you panted, fumbling with the buttons.

Bucky chuckled, sitting back on his heels to shrug off his jacket and unbutton his shirt. Your eyes roamed hungrily over his sculpted torso as more of his skin was revealed. The dim candlelight cast shadows that accentuated every plane and angle of his muscular form.

"Like what you see?" he teased, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Always," you breathed, reaching up to run your hands over his chest and shoulders.

He caught your wrists gently, pinning them above your head as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

You melted into his kiss, your body arching up to meet his as he pressed you into the mattress. The weight of him, the heat of his skin against yours, was intoxicating. You tugged at his grip on your wrists, desperate to touch him, but he held firm.

"Ah ah," he murmured against your lips. "I'm not done admiring my gift yet."

His free hand skimmed down your side, fingers dancing along the edge of your panties. You whimpered, hips bucking involuntarily as he teased you.

"James, please," you gasped, breaking away from the kiss.

He chuckled, a dark, velvety sound that sent shivers down your spine. "So impatient," he tsked, nipping at your lower lip. "But I suppose I have kept you waiting all week, haven't I?"

In one fluid motion, he released your wrists and moved down your body. His lips and tongue traced a burning path along your skin, pausing to lavish attention on your breasts before continuing lower.

With deft movements, he removed the rest of your lingerie, his eyes dark with hunger as he drank in the sight of you. You reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle in your eagerness. Bucky chuckled, gently moving your hands aside to finish undressing himself.

Finally skin to skin, you both sighed at the contact. Bucky's weight settled over you, comforting and electrifying all at once. His lips found yours again as he entered you slowly, savoring every inch. You gasped against his mouth, your body arching to take him deeper.

"God, I've missed you," Bucky growled, his forehead pressed against yours as he stilled for a moment.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him closer. "Show me," you breathed, nails raking down his back.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Bucky began to move, setting a rhythm that had you clinging to him, gasping his name. His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there as his hips drove into yours.

You lost yourself in the sensations - the slide of his skin against yours, the delicious friction where your bodies joined, the heat of his breath on your neck. Your hands roamed his broad back, feeling the flex and ripple of his muscles as he moved above you.

"James," you moaned, feeling the familiar tension building low in your belly. "I'm close."

Bucky slowed his movements, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I'm not done with you."

With a low growl, he suddenly withdrew, leaving you gasping at the loss. Before you could protest, his strong hands grasped your hips and flipped you onto your stomach.

His palms glided down your sides, fingertips tracing the curve of your spine. You shivered at his touch, anticipation building as he gently urged your hips upward.

"On your knees for me, beautiful," he commanded softly, his palms smoothing over the swell of your backside.

You complied eagerly, pushing yourself up onto all fours. The cool air of the room kissed your heated skin, making you hyper-aware of every sensation. Bucky's hands continued their journey, kneading the flesh of your thighs and hips with intent appreciation.

You felt the bed shift as he positioned himself behind you, the heat of his body radiating against your back. His fingers tangled in your hair, gently tugging your head back. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke.

"You're a vision like this," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "So perfect for me."

You whimpered, pressing back against him, desperate for more contact. Bucky chuckled, the sound vibrating through your body. Slowly, torturously, he dragged the tip of his length along your folds, teasing your clit with the blunt head of his cock.

You gasped at the sensation, your fingers curling into the sheets. "James, please," you whimpered, pushing back against him.

He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. "So eager for me," he murmured, positioning himself at your entrance. "Tell me what you want."

"You," you breathed, looking back over your shoulder to meet his intense gaze. "I want you, James. Please."

With a low growl, he pushed into you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely. You both moaned at the sensation, savoring the feeling of being joined once again. Bucky stilled for a moment, his forehead resting against your back as he struggled to maintain control.

"God, you feel amazing," he groaned, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades. "So tight, so wet, so warm and perfect for me."

He began to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm that had you gasping with each thrust. Your fingers clutched at the sheets, desperate for something to anchor you as waves of pleasure washed over you. Bucky's hands roamed your body, caressing and squeezing, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

"Look,” he said, and turned your head to take in the sight of you two in the mirror.

You locked your eyes on his through the reflection. “Need you to see how gorgeous you are when you come apart for me.”

You keened for him as he pulled you back on his cock with a particularly demanding thrust.

“When I breed you.”

You gasped.

He groaned and curled his body down over your back.

Because you also clenched powerfully around his cock.

“Mmm, you like that,” he murmured right into your ear, then licked the shell of it. “Want to be bred,” he continued, pace unyielding as he split you open with his cock. “Not as much as I want to fill you up with my seed,” another thrust, “until you’re growing with my child,” another thrust, “no question who you belong to,” thrust, “that you’re claimed,” thrust, “that you’re mine.”

You were utterly breathless for a moment, and he registered that, too, just as he registers every movement, every reaction.

He continued to thrust slowly in and out of your leaking cunt, but he noticed you were no longer fluid and pliant, but that you had tensed up. He stopped. “What’s going on in your beautiful head?”

You bit your lip, and your head dropped down, turning away from his direct gaze in the mirror.

He pulled out and laid on his side next to you.

“Talk to me,” he said, and you weren’t sure if this tone was commanding or pleading, but it was certainly serious.

You sat up, folded your hands in your lap and took a deep breath. As steadily as you could, you said, “You knew my measurements and had sent a perfect wardrobe of intimates to me withing twenty-four hours of our first encounter.”

He nodded, his lips quirking up at the corner.

“So, I assume you also know I have an IUD, and that you that knew before you fucked me in the kitchen that first night at the restaurant.”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“I’m nowhere near ready to think about children.”

He leaned up on one elbow and reached for your hands, smoothing his thumb back and forth over your knuckles. “We have as much time to think about that as you want.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your eyes searched his. You could see he wasn’t merely trying to tell you what you wanted to hear - he never had.  

“I look forward to children with you one day, but I’m in no rush. When I imagined settling down with a wife,” he continued, “I didn’t think it would be for another five or six years, but once I found you, there was no question that I wanted you.”

"I want that future with you too, just... not quite yet."

Bucky sat up, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs stroked your cheeks gently as he looked into your eyes. "I'm sorry if I scared you," he said, his voice low and sincere. "Sometimes I get carried away in the moment. You inspire that in me. But I never want you to feel uncomfortable or trapped.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, your body relaxing as you processed his words. "I'm sorry," you murmured, leaning into his touch. "I didn't mean to kill the mood."

Bucky shook his head, pulling you closer. "Don't apologize. Communication is important, especially about something like this." His fingers traced soothing patterns on your skin.

You nodded, feeling a surge of warmth and affection for this man who could be so commanding and intense one moment, and so tender and understanding the next. "I love you," you said softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

Bucky responded eagerly, his arms wrapping around you as he deepened the kiss. When you finally parted, both slightly breathless, he rested his forehead against yours. "I love you too," he murmured. "More than I ever thought possible."

His hands began to roam your body again, easily reigniting the need in both of your for each other.

You broke off the kiss briefly, "Just so we're clearly communicating, breeding kink? Yes. Children yet? No."

"Noted," he laughed, and returned to devouring your lips.

Bucky shifted his position from sitting to kneeling, settling back on his heels, then with one fluid motion he turned you and pulled you into his lap with your thighs falling on either side of his into a wide, kneeling position. He lifted your hips, then lined up his cock with your entrance, and brought you down again on his length. He guided your hips until you were impaled all the way down. The new angle sent sparks of pleasure through your body, drawing a low moan from your lips.

He banded his left arm around your torso, and his right hand smoothed up your sternum, between your breasts, coming to rest in a secure hold on your shoulder. You closed your eyes, focusing on nothing but the feel of him inside you, behind you, right at your back, every inch of your bodies pressed together. Your left hand traced over his forearm, then tangled with his fingers around your waist, your other hand moving back to anchor yourself on his hip. He pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, then began thrusting. Each thrust seemed to push a deep moan out of you for him, and you didn’t hold back.

"Open your eyes," he commanded softly, his breath hot against your ear. "Look at us."

You obeyed, your gaze meeting his in the reflection of the mirror. The sight before you was breathtaking. Bucky sat tall and powerful behind you, his muscular thighs flexed as he supported your weight. Your body was on full display, skin flushed and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. His thick arm across your stomach, holding you close against his chest.

"Do you see how beautiful you are?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "How perfectly you fit with me?"

You watched in the mirror as one of his hands slowly trailed up your body, cupping your breast and teasing the sensitive peak. Your back arched at his touch, pressing you further onto his cock.

Bucky groaned, his hips bucking upwards involuntarily. "That's it," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "Feel me inside you."

Entranced by his words and the intoxicating view in the mirror, you began to move. You rolled your hips, grinding down onto him in a slow, sensual rhythm. Bucky's hands guided your movements, his fingers digging into your flesh as he helped you ride him.

You watched in fascination as your bodies moved together, mesmerized by the play of muscles beneath Bucky's skin and the way your own body responded to his touch. The sight of him disappearing inside you with each downward motion was almost too much to bear.

"James," you gasped, your head falling back onto his shoulder as the pleasure built. "Oh god, James..."

“No,” he growled, and his hand went up to your neck, taking you by the throat, not aggressive, but commanding, making it clear that he wanted you to keep looking in the mirror. “I won’t let you fucking miss this.”

It occurred to you then that this handsome, audacious bastard, the fiancé who you’d given your heart to, knew exactly what he wanted when he sent you this mirror and had it placed in the exact spot in front of you now.

He wanted this.

He wanted to see this and have you see this. The debauchery and the devotion while the two of you were intimate together.

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror, the intensity of his gaze pushing you even closer to the brink. You watched as his free hand slid down your body, fingers finding your clit with unerring accuracy. The dual stimulation of his cock inside you and his fingers on your most sensitive area becoming more frantic. Bucky's grip on your hips tightened, guiding you into a faster pace.

"That's it, love," he growled, his voice low and husky in your ear. "Let go for me. I want to see you come undone."

His words, combined with the intense sensations and the erotic sight in the mirror, and touch pushed you over the edge. You cried out, your body tensing and shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you. Bucky held you tightly against him, his hips still moving as he worked you through your orgasm.

"Beautiful," he murmured, pressing kisses along your shoulder and neck. "So fucking beautiful."

As the aftershocks subsided, Bucky gently turned you in his lap so you were facing him. His hands cupped your face, drawing you in for a deep, passionate kiss. You could feel him still hard inside you, and you rocked your hips, drawing a groan from his lips.

"Your turn," you whispered, nipping at his lower lip.

With a growl, Bucky flipped you onto your back, hovering over you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, changing the angle as he began to thrust into you with renewed vigor.

You gasped at the deeper penetration, your hands clutching at his back as he sunk into you. The room filled with the sounds of your moans, heavy breaths, and the slap of skin on skin.

You reached up, pulling him down for a passionate kiss while he worked up to a relentless pace. He drove into you with powerful thrusts, each one pushing the air from your lungs. Your other leg wrapped around his waist, urging him deeper as you felt another orgasm building.

"James," you panted, your nails raking down his back, "I'm so close again."

He growled, his hips snapping against yours with increased fervor. "My good girl, I’ll always give you what you need."

His hand snaked between your bodies, fingers finding your oversensitive clit. The added stimulation was almost too much, pushing you right to the edge. You cried out, your body arching off the bed as your second orgasm crashed over you.

Bucky's rhythm faltered as your walls clenched around him. With a deep groan, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his body shuddering as he found his own release. You felt the warmth of his seed spilling inside you, prolonging your own pleasure.

For a moment, you both lay there, panting and trembling in the aftermath. Bucky's weight was comforting on top of you, grounding you as you floated in post-orgasmic bliss. He pressed soft kisses to your neck and shoulder, murmuring words of love and praise against your skin.

Eventually, he rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you were tucked against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as your breathing slowly returned to normal. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent and feeling utterly content.

"I love you," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone.

Bucky's hand stroked up and down your back, his touch soothing and gentle. "I love you too," he replied, his voice deep and warm. "More than I thought possible."

You hummed in agreement, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. The room was quiet save for the sound of your breathing and the faint flicker of the candles.

After a few moments, Bucky spoke again, his voice soft. "I meant what I said earlier. About children, about our future. We have all the time in the world."

You lifted your head to meet his gaze, seeing nothing but sincerity in his eyes. "I know," you said, leaning in to kiss him gently. "Thank you for understanding."

He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Always. We're partners in this, in everything."

You lay in comfortable silence again for a while, basking in the afterglow and each other's presence. Bucky's fingers idly traced patterns on your skin, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

"I missed this," you said softly, breaking the silence. "Having you here, holding me." Everything with him was still relatively so new, but it felt like this was exactly how it always should be.

He hummed in agreement, tightening his arms around you. "Me too. Those nights in Chicago felt endless without you."

You tilted your head up to look at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "Well, you're home now. And you brought me another present, didn’t you?”

“Oh, you noticed that golden box I brought in with me, did you?”

“Yes, can I have it, please?” you asked sweetly, your curiosity thrumming more with each second now that you had remembered it.

He chuckled at your eagerness, pressing a kiss to your forehead before reluctantly disentangling himself from your embrace. "Alright, love. Your wish is my command."

You watched appreciatively as he padded across the room, admiring the play of muscles beneath his skin. He retrieved the golden box from the dresser and returned to the bed, settling beside you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Close your eyes," he instructed softly, and you complied, feeling a thrill of anticipation.

You heard the rustle of paper and the soft click of a box opening. A moment later, an intoxicating aroma filled the air - rich, complex, with notes of cocoa, vanilla, and something tantalizingly exotic.

"Open," Bucky murmured.

Parting your lips, you allowed him to place a morsel of chocolate in your mouth.

The chocolate melted slowly on your tongue, releasing layers of flavor that made you moan softly in delight. Rich, dark cocoa mingled with hints of caramel and a subtle spiciness that lingered pleasantly. As the last of it dissolved, you opened your eyes to find Bucky watching you intently, his gaze dark with renewed desire.

"Good?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, licking your lips. "Incredible. What is it?"

He smiled, holding up an elegantly crafted golden box. "Amedei Porcelana. Some of the rarest and most expensive chocolate in the world. I had it flown in from Tuscany."

Your eyes widened. "James, that must have cost a fortune."

He shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "What's the point of having money if I can't spoil my beautiful fiancée?" His fingers traced along your jawline. "Besides, watching you enjoy it is worth every penny."

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at his words and the intensity of his gaze. Bucky leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, sensual kiss. The lingering taste of chocolate on your tongue mingled with his unique flavor, creating an intoxicating blend. His hand cupped the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss.

When you finally parted, both slightly breathless, Bucky rested his forehead against yours. "I think I might enjoy that chocolate even more when I taste it on your lips," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You smiled, reaching for the box. "Well, we have plenty more to sample. Maybe we should conduct a thorough taste test?"

Bucky's eyes darkened with desire, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "I like the way you think, chef."

He took the box from your hands, selecting another piece of chocolate. This time, instead of feeding it to you, he placed it between his teeth, raising an eyebrow in challenge. You leaned in, capturing the other half of the chocolate with your lips, your mouths meeting in a sweet, decadent kiss.

As the night wore on, you continued your playful exploration, alternating between savoring the exquisite chocolate and indulging in each other. Bucky trailed pieces along your skin, following the path with his lips and tongue. You reciprocated, drawing patterns on his sculpted chest and abs with melted chocolate before licking it clean.

The room filled with soft sighs, quiet laughter, and murmured words of affection as you rediscovered each other's bodies. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over your intertwined forms, creating an intimate cocoon that seemed to exist outside of time.

As dawn approached, you lay tangled together, satiated and drowsy. Bucky's fingers traced lazy patterns on your back as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

"I could get used to welcomes like this," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You hummed contentedly, nuzzling closer. "Maybe I should send you away more often if this is how you come back to me."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Don't you dare. I much prefer having you by my side every day."

You smiled, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "Me too," you admitted softly. "Though I have to say, absence does make the heart grow fonder."

"And apparently inspires some very creative shopping," he teased, his hand skimming down your side to rest on your hip.

You laughed, a warm, carefree sound that filled the room. "Well, I had to make sure you'd remember me while you were away."

"Impossible," Bucky murmured, his voice taking on a more serious tone. His fingers traced the curve of your cheek, his touch feather-light but ardent. "You're etched into every part of me now, love."

The intensity of his gaze made your breath catch in your throat. Even after hours of intimacy, he still had the power to make your heart race with just a look. You leaned in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of your shared feelings.

As you parted, you noticed the first rays of dawn peeking in through the curtains of your window. You settled your head against his shoulder, and only just registered the press of his lips in a kiss to your forehead before you dropped off to sleep in his arms in the morning light, thoroughly exhausted and thoroughly in love with this man.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Read more in the DEVOUR collection...

Some of this was content I cut from the final chapter of the original 4-parts of the series (heat) that once I got to the end of that chapter felt like it didn't fit anymore, but it was stuff I couldn't throw away, so I just kept it, knowing it would have a place at some point in their story later, so I'm glad I finally got to share it with you!

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[venusstorm]

𝘽𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙃𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙨

The time in which you gifted Bucky Barnes an adorable little keychain for his motorcycle.

ෆ Warnings: 18+ – MINORS DNI, fluff, insecurity, Bucky can’t stop lifting you up

ෆ Bucky Barnes x Reader

ෆ w/c: 1.2k

̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟

"Isn't this yours, honeybee?" Bucky questions, dangling the bright yellow bumblebee with a pastel pink heart in his hand. He inspects it carefully, turning it around before offering it back to you.

You shake your head, "It was, yea...but..."

Bucky stares at you expectantly and suddenly the entire idea sounded foolish. You couldn't help but envision him laughing at you, snorting at how ridiculous he'd look flying down the highway with your dumb keychain flapping in the wind. It'd stick out like a sore thumb against his jet-black bike, the rev of his engine alone probably sending the poor bee soaring into the clouds.

"I put it in there by accident," you laugh nervously, reaching out for the tiny bee. But his hands clenched tightly around the keychain before you could grab it.

Almost tauntingly he lets it hang in front of your face, staring at you with a half smile.

"On accident?" He hums. "So the keychain that's been on your backpack since the day I met you just somehow found its way into my birthday present?"

You shrug. "I took it off and must've misplaced it."

His eyes glimmer with question but instead of pushing further, he lets it go. He shrugs, "Okay."

Your face falls as he hands the keychain back to you. You squeeze the poor ball of fluff, trying your best not to belittle yourself for being so nervous.

It's for the best, you told yourself. I'm sure he doesn't want some weird form of "staking claim" on his bike. His buddies would make fun of him for it anyway. It's better if it stays with me. Yea. Better.

Hurriedly you try to direct your attention away from your thoughts, shoving the keychain into your pocket.

Your solemn expression brightens into excitement. "I have another surprise!"

You take Bucky's hand, leading him towards your living room which noticeably had a different ambiance than usual. He happily trails behind you, watching your joyous face with adoration.

Every time he's with you his brain goes fuzzy. You allow him to decompress, relax, and think about nothing besides the moment he's in. He craves getting off of work and coming straight to your apartment, still sweaty and dirty from working at the bar, and yet you run up and give him the biggest hug. "Hang on, let me take a shower, honeybee." But you'd ignore him, smashing your lips against his until he gives up rationalizing and allows you to strip him bare.

"I know it's kind of corny and if you'd rather go out and celebrate I completely understand. I just thought this would..."

He can't focus on your words. Not as he's looking at what you had done. Candles lit around the room, the whole place smelling of warm vanilla and cinnamon. Fairy lights twinkled around the ceiling, draping over the windows. The coffee table has been shoved to the side and in its place is a bundle of blankets and floor pillows. Balloons and streamers are scattered across the room, and finally, he zones in on the blue and white cake.

"Happy Birthday James!" it reads. He could tell that you made it because of the bright red heart dotting the i.

He whispers your name in pure disbelief.

"Yes?" You stare up at him with admiration. You truly love this man and want to do everything in your power to show it.

"C'mere, baby." Bucky scoops you up into a hug, hiking you up until your legs are wrapped around his waist. He holds you close against his chest, kissing you sweetly. "You did all this for me?"

You nod, eyes wide as he stares at your lips. A look of pure hunger ravishes you. Bucky presses his forehead against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

He couldn't recall a time before you when his heart felt as if it would beat out of his chest. Nor a time when his eyes became so glazed over with pure adoration that he swore he'd cry right then and there. He was hesitant about this future, the new world that he found himself forced to live in. But the moment he saw your sweet smile for the first time, all that faded away.

"Thank you, Princess." You whimper as he whispers into your ear, his hands traveling up the Henley that you stole from his drawer. He didn't mind you stealing his clothes. The first time he caught you he handed you a pile of his shirts, begging you to take them and wear them as your own.

He kisses your shoulder softly. "Thank you for being here for me."

"For taking the time to know me and care for me."

His lips press against your neck, a soft groan rumbling within his throat. "I still remember the day we met...felt like the universe was finally giving me my happy ending."

You state his name breathlessly. "I'm supposed to be celebrating you, not the other way around."

He ignores your remark, his eyes narrowing as his brain begins to churn. "Do you trust me, sweetheart?"

You respond without hesitation. "With everything."

"And you'll always tell me the truth, right?"

You nod reassuringly.

He releases his grip on your legs, setting you back onto the ground. "So tell me what this is about." His hand shoots into your pocket, pulling out the black and yellow bee. He squeezes it in his hand before laying it out in his palm.

"I told you–"

He raises an eyebrow, "The truth."

You didn't want to come off as too clingy and you didn't want to hear Bucky reject your gift. Thank you baby but...it's a little childish. You could hear the words flowing from his lips perfectly. He'd hate it.

"I–"

Bucky pulls you closer. His eyes flooded with warmth. "Please."

"It was for your bike," you whisper. "And before you say anything. I know it's dumb...that's why I took it back."

"My bike?"

You nod wordlessly. "I thought it'd be cute if you had a little piece of me wherever you go. But the more I thought about it the more I realized how stupid it'd probably look. I mean...none of the other guys have–"

Bucky cuts you off, lifting you off the ground and back into his arms. "Oh, baby...is this what you were hiding?"

You nod sheepishly. "It's stupid."

He shakes his head. "It's perfect. You're perfect. M'gonna tie this onto it right now, honeybee. The guys are going to be so fucking jealous when they see what you got me."

Your lips broaden into a smile. "Really?"

Bucky hugs you tightly, his hand caressing your head against his shoulder. "Gotta let the whole world know I've got the most thoughtful, gorgeous person by my side. M'never taking it off, baby. It goes where I go now."

You squeal as he races into the garage with you in his arms, flicking the lights on and heading towards his bike. He sets you down gently, making a show of the keychain in his hand before attaching it to his key ring. Happily, he throws his leg over the bike, twisting the ignition. The bike roars to life and the sight of your bright yellow bee against the black exterior makes you burst out into laughter.

Bucky grins. "See? It's perfect, baby. Told you."

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

oh hi big sis hru just wanted to ask for bucky making out w reader and "choking" reader? ((not really choking, just his hand on readers neck 🧜🧜 need that metal hand inside me

big sis?! AW GET OUT THATS SO CUTE!! salivating bc it’s such a delicious idea. thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

VIBRANIUM NECKLACE.

bucky barnes x fem!reader — smut/ very suggestive

word count. 592

warnings. 18+ bit of a hand kink (self indulgent? no😏don’t be silly) light ‘choking’ (basically just throat holding) mdni

Picking up on hints is something Bucky does best - his prior life as a weapon coming in handy when it came to connecting dots. 

But he didn't need his training when it came to you. Your clues were far from decreet.

He had noticed the recent liking you had taken to his vibranium arm - the longing glances, the touches, that look in your eye when he skims you with his metal fingers. 

There was something so lewd and erotic about it: the coldness of the metal when it touched your skin or just the thought of the sheer strength he could wield with it - just knowing the amount of power he could muster and still be so gentle with it around you.

He noticed it more prominently now. Standing together in the kitchen as you prepped dinner, you on Bucky's side as he chopped the ingredients. His right hand skillfully gripping the knife, his left metal hand holding a potato, keeping it still.

You were supposed to be on peeling duty, but every time you caught a glimpse of his hands, all work got delayed, consequentially leading to him having nothing to chop. So you pass him another peeled potato, watching how he brushes your fingers in the process - his hands purposefully lingering longer than they're supposed to.

Bucky's not an idiot. He could see it clear as day: the way your ears pull back, the delayed exhale in your chest, even the dilation in your pupils. He could see it all. 

You continue watching the smooth, fluid-like motion of his hands - practically ogling him as he drops the cubed produce into the saucepan. You're utterly captivated as you gawk at him, following his every move as he effortlessly glides around the kitchen - watching him place the pan onto the heat to boil.

He gives the potatoes a stir —fully aware of your stares— and turns to face you, noticing that same glimmer in your eye. He takes a step closer and presses a momentary kiss onto your lips, then pulls back, picking up on that hint of desperation across your face. 

So he leans back in, kissing you again and again until it evolves into much more than a few chaste, casual kisses. All of it progressing into something hungrier, eager - heavily making out as his lower half cages you against the counter. His cock chubbing up against your lower tummy.

He tests the waters and decides to use the one thing you've been eyeing up all evening. So he teases his left hand over your shoulder, fingers steadily skimming along until he reaches that part between your collarbone and the base of your throat - a faint, whiney moan leaving your lips in the process. The soft dulcet noise muffling into his mouth.

With your silent agreement, he snakes his palm higher - fingers itching up the sides of your throat until they settled in a light, comfortable grip just below your jaw. His grasp is faint, just merely holding your throat as he deepens the kiss, groin pushing you up against the edge of the counter.

He nips on your bottom lip before pulling away slightly, both of your chests practically heaving from the desperate makeout. He grazes his thumb over your chin, itching higher to run over your bottom lip, the pad outing it slowly - his eyes following attentively. 

"Don't you go anywhere," he whispers, pressing another kiss to your lips - moving away to attend to the bubbling pot.

[imtryingbuck]

Unwanted pt two

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!fem!Reader

Summary: having a mate but you not being theirs is rare, very rare. Y/n is that unfortunate omega. Could she still find love and happiness?

Word count: 5,128

Warnings: angst. unrequited love. Omegaverse. swearing. homeless reader. money issues. Steve’s a bit of a dick. fluff. 

Part 1

Masterlist

He watched as her body got smaller and smaller as she made her way through the crowd until he couldn’t see her anymore or even catch her scent carrying in the wind.

As he made his way back to the tower all he could think about was her, his mate that couldn't possibly be his mate, he knew that they only get one mate in their lifetime and he already had his. Due to what Hydra did to him he know longer remembered what his mate smelt like or felt or how she sounded, and for the longest time he couldn’t even remember what the feeling felt like when he first laid eyes on his mate but then he met Y/n, then he felt it, the tingly yet burning sensation coursing through his whole body, the way his brain turned to mush as she stood in front of him, the overwhelming need to protect her and show her that he would be the best Alpha.

The sun had long gone down as Bucky stared at himself in the mirror, his shirt off and his eyes burned a hole in his scars where flesh meets metal, it wasn’t often that he would look at himself in the mirror but when he did he would silently call himself horrible names, yet tonight he was wondering how Y/n would react to them, would she be disgusted? would she run away and never want to talk to him again? or would she be kind? tell him pretty lies about how the scars are beautiful?

Having had enough of seeing his reflection, he threw on a shirt and made his way to the gym as sleeping was the last thing on his mind, he lost track of time as he took all his frustration out on the punching bag.

"Buck? Hey what are you doing in the gym at... three in the morning? Bucky?"

Steves voice startled him. “Shit sorry, what did you say?" Even when the blond repeats his question Bucky doesn't register his words, his mind was still on Y/n and everything that came with her. Her smile was embedded within in mind, the slight bounce she had when she was waiting for the shop owner to come behind the counter to get the trolley off her, her laugh, her eyes, her nose, her lips... just her. She had completely consumed his every thought the moment he laid eyes on her and spending the day by her side didn't help either. "I think I found my mate" unceremoniously cutting his best friend off, Bucky frowned at waiting for some form of response.

"Buck, Dot was your mate and she's gone.”

"I know okay I do but-but this girl I mean she's taken over my mind man!"

Steve lips pulled sideways as he nibbled on his inner cheek trying to think of the best way to respond to his best friend. "We only get one mate and sadly ours are gone, I wish we had that chance in this life but it doesn't happen like that.”

"B-but what if the moon goddess was wrong? Or what if Sharon's your ma-"

"Don't be ridiculous Buck." Steve barked out a laugh. "She's just someone I'm sleeping with.”

"She doesn't think that..."

"She knows that.”

"No she doesn't and you know that, she actually believes you're mates and that's why she's always begging you to bond with her.”

"Look, what's between me and Sharon or all the other women I'm seeing has nothing to do with you.” The blond snapped.

Rolling his eyes he sighed. "I know and I'm not bothered about that but maybe this omega could be mine I might be luck-"

"Bucky there's no way that it could possibly happen okay. We only get one mate.”

He knew that, of course he knew that, but he wanted it to be wrong. "Peggy bonded with Dan-"

"Don't say his name James!” For the second time in five minutes Steve snapped at him. “He wasn't her mate they just bonded because they were both lonely.”

"But maybe, right?" He had to admit that he was embarrassed himself by hearing the desperation in his voice but he just couldn't help it. He wanted his longest friend, his confidant, the only person he trusted to run in to battle with without being told what or why they were fighting to tell him that maybe just maybe he was lucky enough to get a second chance at happiness. But seeing the bored expression on said man's face and the slow motion of his head shaking made Bucky's heart sink.

Of course out of the two of them he wasn't going to be the who got that happiness or that sense of completion that came with having a mate. He was the bad one, the assassin, the former Winter Soldier and Steve was the good one, the one who jumped on a grenade at boot camp, Americas golden boy.

Wishful thinking that he could be lucky.

"You should tell Sharon that your just stringing her on before it's too late." he mumbled before leaving the gym going to his room and having a shower, getting into his bed once cleaned and dried.

Finally falling to sleep he allowed himself to dream of the woman who he wished he was lucky enough to call his mate.

At the end of every month Y/n went to all of her jobs and waited patiently to be paid, smiling thankfully, saying her thanks before doing her job. Finishing her last job of that day she sat in an empty alleyway counting the money she made from that month, she sighed at seeing how little she had left after paying Bucky back for the meal and a little extra for his help with her paper rounds.

She knew that he said he wasn't expecting or wanting anything in return but she didn't want him thinking that she was using him. He didn't need to be worrying about her or wasting his money on her, she wasn't anything to him, she wasn't his responsibility or omega. She was no one. A nobody in the eyes of the world.

And that's how it had been for most of her life.

Making her way to the hotel knowing that Jenny was on, she ran in to ask for an envelope she placed the money inside before running back out the building and made the trek to the tower making herself smaller and less visible to the crowd around her.

Finding herself finally outside the doors of the tower she slid her shoes off ignoring the questioning looks she got from those around her she made her way over to the reception desk. "H-hi, can you pass o-or make sure that Mr Bucky gets this, please?"

"Sure or you could take-" Y/n cuts off the young woman sitting just behind the large welcome sign.

"No. Sorry, c-can you just do it please?"

"Okay, sure I'll make sure he gets it."

"T-thank you"

"Do you want to leave your name?"

"No, thank you. Bye"

Rushing back out as the judgemental stares got too much for her, she made her way back to the alleyway she had been calling home for the last few nights.

Bucky was sat listening to Sam's rambling about something he wasn't paying attention to when a soft voice called his name from the doorway to the common room. "Yeah?"

"I was asked to bring this to you" she said handing over the envelope before nodding politely and leaving.

"What is it?" Sam questions eying the envelope.

"I don't know" his frown deepens when he pulls open the top flap and sees money. No note to suggest who had sent it. "It's-" and that's when it hits him. His - not his - omega had not only come to the tower where he was but had also paid him back even when he told her he didn't expect anything back.

"It's what?"

"N-nothing, be back in a minute" Sam sat puzzled but shrugged and turned his attention to the screen trying to figure out what was happening in the scene.

Bucky rushed down the stairs as the elevator was taking too long for his liking, stepping out into the lobby his insides tingled with excitement and familiarity when he caught the remnants of her scent still lingering the air. He knew it was a long shot when he looked outside in hopes of finding her still at the compound but he still went and checked. He headed straight to the hotel where she worked out in hopes of finding her there.

"Hello welcome to the Kingsmill Hotel how many hours or days do you-"

"Do you know Y/n?" He interrupted the beta sitting behind the desk filling in a crossword puzzle, looking rather bored as she did so.

Jenny's head snapped up at hearing her friends name coming from a strangers mouth. "How do you know her?”

"We met at the tower-"

"She really was there?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. What do you want with Y/n?"

"She gave me some money when I told her I didn't want it"

"Right" Jenny said slowly.

"And I would like to give it back to her, is she working?"

"No." Checking the time on her watch "she'll be finished with her jobs for the day, it's Thursday isn't it? She'll be in the alleyway between Smiths and that bike shop, do you know the one?"

"Yeah, yeah I think so.”

"She'll be there for the night.”

"Okay, thank you" his knuckles taps against the desk in two quick successions making his way to the sliding doors when his name was called behind him. "Yeah?"

"Be good to her, please" Bucky's feet falter slightly hearing her words, he manages to nod his head giving her a half smile and leaves.

Pulling out the dinted tin of baked beans from her dark green backpack that probably only had a few more months to a year left in it until it would finally make its way into the dustbin, she opened the lid with a sigh at the idea of having to have cold baked beans once again but she couldn't exactly waste her money on a warm meal. She needed all the money she had.

Wiping down the plastic spoon she had, she begin to dig in when she smelt the familiar scent coming from down the end of the alley.

"Y/n?" Bucky's soft voice sounded as his footsteps grew closer.

"Bucky? Wh-what are you doing here?"

"I told you that I didn't want anything in return, so please take this back.” He said as he handed over the envelope. "Please take it back Y/n.”

"I can't.”

"Why can't you?"

"Because I'm not your responsibility.”

"What?” Yes she was right, she wasn’t, much to his disappointment. “Y/n please stop being a pain in my ass and take the money.”

"Fine!" Taking back the envelope with a huff, stuffing it in her backpack.

"Now come on, you're coming with me.”

"Excuse me? No I'm no-"

"You are, there's plenty of room in the tower and Tony wouldn't care.”

"I-I can't. Okay I can't, I'm fine where I am.”

Bucky sighs at how stubborn she's being, first the money and now refusing to let him give her a roof over her head, a warm soft bed to sleep in and hot food in her belly even if it was only just for a few nights and then him trying to convince her to stay longer after that. Crouching down to her level, putting his left hand on the ground so he didn't fall. "Why can't you?"

"It-it doesn't matter."

"Please Y/n, let me help you please.” He practically begged.

"Why? I'm a nobody. I'm not your friend. I'm not your omega. I'm nothing so why bother helping me? There's plenty of other lost souls out there if you're so desperate to help someone, go and help them!"

He frowned. He knew she was right about her not being his omega despite him wanting that fact to be true and she wasn't a nobody, she mattered to him and to Jenny. "I... why do you have to be so stubborn for?"

"Why do you?” It’s not the first time that he’s been asked why he’s stubborn, maybe that’s why she’s his mate. “Why can't you just let me be? I've been doing just fine on my own"

"You're homeless!" He snapped, instantly releasing a stuttering breath once he let those words slip out.

"Yeah because I was kicked out of my community because of your friend." She snaps back quickly. "Blond, blue eyes?" Y/n explains seeing his confused look.

"Steve? What's Steve got to do with this?"

"He's my alpha, but l'm not his omega so when I was sixteen I was kicked out of the community for being unloveable. Him and his beta will be at the tower right? So I can't-I just can't go there with you Bucky. Look I'm sorry for snapping at you l'm tired and hungry and I just wish to be left alone.”

That loud cracking sound wasn’t thunder, no it was his heart. Of course her mate is Steve, good ol’ Steve, the one that everyone loves and trusts, the one that can kick a woman out of his bed as soon as he’s finished and they come crawling back again when he wants them, the one who is sleeping with his dead mates niece. Of course her mate just has to be his best friend, his brother. Of course the Gods are punishing him for what he did, for what he had no control over, of course. Yet, just like she is, he’s stubborn so therefore he isn’t backing down so easily.

"I have an apartment you can stay at, it's not much but it's better than this alleyway or the tower. An-and before you say no, just know that I only stay there when Tony is being a dick with me, it's somewhere safe for you to stay and it's warm and you don't have to worry about payments or anything because Tony pays for all of the apartments and we don't have to pay him back.” He rambles, trying to say anything in hopes of convincing her to stay at the apartment he hardly stays at. 

"I... I can't-"

"You can, doll you can. It's either the apartment or the tower but it has to be one of them because I'm not leaving you here.”

Mulling over his proposal for a few minutes weighing out the pros and cons, yes it would nice to finally be out of the cold even if just for a day or two and the idea of being able to get a nice shower was very appealing but then she would be having to rely on Bucky once again, he's already helped her out twice - helping her with her paper rounds and then buying her some food - but this was too much, she would never be able to pay him back. "I-I can't Bucky, I'm okay I promise.”

"You’re not okay Y/n, it's getting colder at nights now.”

"I-Bucky I won't be able to pay you back.”

"I don't want you to pay me back, as long as you're safe that's all that matters to me."

"B-but... okay but only for a couple of days.”

"A couple of days" he repeated whilst trying to force the large smile off his face.

Showing her around the small place he was glad that he had brought some food for the place a few days before and cleaned up the takeaway boxes that he, Steve and Sam left from the weekend prior. He told her that she could sleep on the bed and that he had never slept in it before admitting he chose to sleep on the floor.

Y/n moved slowly around the apartment, the last time she stepped foot inside of one was two years ago when Jenny and Opal made her stay with them for a week when New York had a bad snow storm and even then she stayed in the corner of their apartment to scared to disturb or touch anything. "A-are you sure about this Bucky?"

"Of course I am.”

"What do you want in return?" She asked sceptically, even though he already told her he didn't want anything from her most alphas didn't do anything for omegas that wasn't theirs for free and especially not out of the goodness of their hearts.

"Just a friend, that's all.” His lips curved upwards just slightly.

"A friend? Nothing more, right?"

“Nothing more I promise. Plus you have all them deadly diseases so.” Both laughing at the reminder of her failed attempt to scare him away.

"Nasty ones remember!"

"Super deadly ones that you don't remember the names of.”

"That's very true.” Smiling softly at him she whispers. “But I-I would like to be your friend Bucky.”

After a couple of days of Y/n being at Bucky's apartment and him showing up both days just like she made him promise he would, a couple of days turned into a week, a week turned into two and now four months after that evening in the alleyway where he had begged her to come with him, they were both living together. Bucky 'moved' back in after Y/n said that the only way she would continue to live there is if he moved back in so obviously he agreed.

In those four months Bucky found himself excited to go home, home, he couldn’t recall the last time he ever called the place that or even if he ever did, but that’s what it was now, it once was cold and dull with the bare minimum of furniture then after two weeks of Y/n living there he went out and got everything they would need to make the place homely, even getting candles that reminded him of her scent.

They both took it in turns to care for the other at night when their sleep had been interrupted by nightmares, both embarrassed the first time it happened and woke up to find the other one sitting in front of them coaxing them to wake up and promising that everything was fine.

The first time Y/n saw Bucky’s scars he couldn’t tell whose cheeks were redder, his or hers, he’d gone on a run and when he came back he didn’t think twice when he removed his shirt as he made his way towards the bathroom, literally bumping into her as she was coming out of the room. He apologised profusely, worried that he had scared her in some way, whilst she tried so hard to tear her eyes away from his chest and abs, and became what he thought was a stuttering mess. He saw her eyes flick to his scars quickly but he saw no sign of disgust or pity, he couldn’t tell exactly or even if she had any thoughts of them.

One night around about two months into them living together he had gained the courage to ask her about how she came to be homeless, and to his surprise she told him. He sat there feeling all types of emotions, mainly anger, anger at the Gods for giving her a mate that wouldn’t be hers, anger at her father, anger at her community for kicking out a sixteen year old with nothing to her name and a poxy ‘good luck’. He listened to her every word as she retold the story of how she first met Steve, he wanted to be sick, he couldn’t fathom the feeling that she must of felt knowing that her mate had been right there, right there with another woman, a woman who to Bucky had nothing on Y/n.

On the same night she asked him if he had ever found his mate, and he found himself telling her everything from how he met her, her name, how the feeling felt when their souls connected, how she went to bed one night and passed away as she slept - he told her that he ran all the way to her home, waking up her parents and barging into the home and ran up the stairs to her bedroom, he was the one that found her, he felt their bond break and couldn’t understand why she would break it, but he knew, he knew that something wasn’t right, and so he ran, he ran as fast as he could despite being in agony which only got worse as he got closer to her home.

He didn’t know why, because it wasn’t like she asked, but that same night he kept talking, and telling her about Hydra and the things that they did to him and what he did for them. Trying so hard to explain that he didn’t want to do it but that he had no choice, he didn’t want her to hate him or to be scared of him. When she apologised, his heart stopped, he thought she was apologising and then going to say that she couldn’t live with him anymore, but she didn’t say that, no she apologised and gave him a hug which Bucky swore he was going to melt if she kept her arms around him any longer yet finding himself clinging to her when she tried to pull back.

Three months in, Y/n came home crying, the second Bucky heard her sniffling he dropped his phone on the floor and jumped up off the new and comfortable sofa he had recently brought and ran over to her watching as she struggled to get her shoes off. The feeling to protect her was overwhelming as he pulled her into his arms after he asked “who hurt you?” but she didn’t respond, she just fell into his strong chest and soaked his freshly cleaned shirt with her tears. After nearly twenty minutes she began to calm herself down and explained that she bumped into her oldest sister, they cried and held on to each other, her sister told her that their father had died and that their mum hadn’t stopped trying to find her, she told him that her sister had begged for her to come back to the community even if it was for a few hours so she could be reunited with their mum. Y/n explained that she couldn’t, and promised that they’d see each other again. Bucky just held her as she spoke, his heart aching for his omega, and when her words started to slur he picked her up and carried her to bed.

He sat on the sofa wondering what he could do to help his omega when her phone that Tony had brought her started ringing, answering it before his brain could even catch up with his actions. The next day he told Y/n that she wasn’t going to work and that she was finally having a much needed rest, he actually frowned as she just said “okay.” because normally she would argue with him. She had noticed that he kept checking his watch every couple of minutes before eyeing up the door, at eleven there was a soft knock at the door which Bucky told her to answer, and when she did her mum and sisters were standing there.

He watched as his omega was reunited with her family with a sense of pride and happiness, after introducing himself to them and getting them drinks he offered to leave them alone for a bit but found himself stuck when Y/n’s hand grabbed his and begged him to stay. He listened as Y/n told her family how she had been - noticing that she wasn’t telling the whole truth but he understood in a way why she didn’t, he laughed when her mum told him stories of a young Y/n - laughing more when he noticed her cheeks getting redder and redder.

When it was time for them to leave but not before promising that they would see each other again, Bucky was in the kitchen cleaning the dishes from dinner he turned around to find Y/n standing there pulling at the sleeve of her - his old - jumper, before he could say anything she ran over to him and wrapped her arms around his torso, thanking him for everything then standing on her tiptoes and pressing her lips to his cheek.

He stood there for nearly half an hour with a dopey smile on his face.

"Doll can you get the door please?"

"Of course" opening the door she sees Steve and Sam standing there. "H-hi."

"Hey, is Bucky here?" Sam asks smiling.

"Yeah, come in. Bucky you've got visitors.”

Bucky pops his head around the corner and sees his friends, he notices the way Steve looks Y/n up and down and instantly hates it. He knows that Steve and Sharon haven't been seeing each other anymore since the latter walked in on him with an omega she introduced him to, having sex. And the worst part about it for him is that the real alpha to his doll is his best and oldest friend and the way said man is looking at her makes him want to attack him. "Hi guys."

"Hey. Hi pretty girl, I'm Steve" Steve greets Y/n, Sam's the only one that notices the twitch in the brunettes cheek.

"I know who you are.” She says with a hint of sarcasm in the voice, turning to the brunette she smiles causing his heart to squeeze. “Bucky I'm going to work, I'll see you later.”

Bucky bites on his bottom lip to stop him from smiling at her reaction to Steve's clear attempt at flirting. Instead of responding to her he nods and tells the guys to get comfortable before following Y/n outside in the hallway. "How are you? I know it can’t be easy to be around him.”

"He may have been my fated mate but he isn't my chosen one.” She shrugs as she pulls her new backpack that he brought her when her other one succumbed to its early death, up on to her shoulders.

"Oh… w-who is then?"

"You. See you later Bucky.”

It was only until she was outside where she realised what she had admitted. Her cheeks turning bright red instantly.

Kicking a stone lightly down the street she shook her head feeling stupid for what she had said, she had grown used to having a place to call home - a place with him, a place where she feels safe and comfortable and now she ruined it. She's ruined the only good thing she had in her life all becu- "Y/n! Doll! Y/n.” Turning around she sees Bucky running towards her. "D-did you mean that? Y-you really want me to be your chosen mate?"

"I-I'll move my stuff out toni-"

"No no no, did you mean it? Be-because you're mine.”

"R-really?"

"Yes, l've known since the day I met you in the tower.”

"You're my chosen mate Bucky, I don't feel anything for blon-“ Bucky cuts her off by pressing his soft plumb lips against hers. Both signing in content at the feeling of their lips connecting.

Reluctantly pulling away from her, he leans his forehead against hers both sharing shy smiles. "I'll see you after work, I'll pick you up and I'll do us dinner a-and we can watch a movie? How does that sound?"

"T-that will be perfect Bucky, I'll see you later.” Only leaving after Bucky kisses her one, two, three more times.

The two alphas smirk at the third when he gets back into the apartment that once was bare and cold turned into a full and warm home that he was proud to share with his omega, he has a love-struck expression on his face, and he doesn't even bat an eye at their teasing.

True to his word Bucky goes to pick her up from her from work where he shyly admits that he burnt the dinner he was trying to cook, he promised her that he would take her to a restaurant, he understood why she tensed up at the idea of going to a restaurant so he quickly says that maybe they could get a pizza instead.

And that's exactly what they did.

Sitting on the couch they laughed at what the actors on the screen were saying, the rain starting to come down heavily batting rhythmically off the windows, sharing delicious pizza - both thought that nothing could possibly make that night any better than it already was.

"Y/n...” He starts to say but finding him tongue tied when she looks up at him, taking a deep breath before whispering. “I-I love you, y-you don’t have to say it back if you d-don’t fe-“

"I love you too" she smiles up to him, and though his heart soared at hearing those words coming from her lips he couldn't help but chuckle.

"What?"

"You've got tomato sauce on your cheek.”

After the confession everyone noticed that Bucky had a skip in his step, he no longer gave people his infamous death stare, he was happier than they had ever seen him before. “Steve what’s up with him?” Nat whispered as the team watched Bucky help Wanda bake cookies.

“I… I don’t know.”

“It might be that omega we met.” Sam commented, watching in fascination as Bucky sang along with Wanda.

“What omega?” Tony asked.

“The one that was here at the tower, you know the one that Pepper chased after?”

“Y/n?”

“Yeah I think so.”

Steve started chuckling softly and shook his head. “The last time I saw him this happy was when he met Dot, she was his mate.”

“But-“

“I know, I know.” The blond cut Nat off. “But he’s gotten lucky, he’s been given another chance at happiness.”

“If anyone deserves it, it’s him.” Tony mumbled. “What? Don’t look at me like that. Though if anyone tells him I said that I’ll just deny it.”

When the team met Y/n Bucky was nervous because Steve was going to be there, she reassured him that nothing or nobody was going to take her away from him, and she was right, she shook hands with the blond and felt absolutely nothing, she didn’t get that feeling or heard her insides screaming ‘mate’ as she walked into the room.

It wasn't long after that the team met the sole source of Bucky’s happiness that they both wore the mark on the left side of their necks showing the world that he was hers and she was his.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77 | @buckitostan | @casa-boiardi

[cosmos-coma]

My Sun, My Star- Part 2

A/N: Thank you all SO MUCH for your great comments on part one. I couldn't have asked for a better crowd to receive my work! Because so many people asked for it I've finally written a part 2! I honestly can't tell how good it is any more cause I've probably read it through 12 times in the last two days lol, so enjoy!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 7476 (whoops)

Warnings: Pregnant reader, Otherwise GN reader (no pronouns), Occasional use of "Y/n", Injury, Bucky's kind of an ass when hes upset (but redeemable), arguing.

Summary: Bucky finds out that you met the Winter Soldier and he is Not happy.

Part 1 | Part 3 | Epilogue | Bucky Masterlist

Like what I do? buy me a Coffee!

________

“Doll…?” you heard the familiar voice call, rough and gritty from its recent use but still carrying that same soft tone he used with you.

Your heart swelled as you lowered your hand from your face “Bucky...?”

He looked tired, so so tired. What was once sweet blue eyes were now diluted with exhaustion, no longer the brisk gaze you had learned to find comfort in. But still, a smile of relief eased onto your features at the mere sight of him and slowly the spark in his eyes began to return. 

“Bucky!” You rushed to the thick door separating you, your hands eagerly jiggling the locked knob as you tried to get in. All you wanted to do was hold him, to hold his face, his hands; you wanted to feel and squeeze all of him just to know that he was truly back.

“Sheesh, hold on!” Tony complained, “At least let us take the wiring off first, we can’t have you coming in and messing up- hey! HEY, stop smudging the glass!” Tony shouted as he worked quickly to detach the wires of various machines from his head.  

Bucky laughed a bit as he sat up carefully, rolling the pain out of his shoulders and arms when something didn’t feel right. He winced as he felt his soft shoulder complain against the movements and looking over he spotted the bandage taped tight to his skin- a small dot of blood peeking through the solid white; before he could ask about it Tony was already sending a technician to unlock the door. 

“Alright, alright, we’re opening the door, stop your jiggling…” the billionaire griped.

As soon as you saw your opening you ran straight for him, your leg be damned as you stumbled into his waiting arms, “Bucky, my heart...” you whispered with relief as you hugged him as close as you possibly could. It was times like these when you cursed your body’s rotund transformation as it refused to let you get that much closer to him. But none of it mattered as his strong arms wrapped around you in turn, flooding you with the familiar scent and warmth of his amber-like musk. 

“Hey, Doll…” The super soldier rasped softly in your ear, his voice still a little rough from the muffled shouts of pain just minutes before. His brow tightened and he held in a wince at the impact of your hug, refusing to let you see him falter as pain jolted his shoulder. 

“What are you still doing up?” he asked with a smile, the roughness finally easing away and slipping back into the smooth rumble of his natural voice. His eyes trailed down your face and body, stopping abruptly at the bandage wrapped around your calf. He frowned as his brows creased together uneasily, “What happened to your leg? Who-” he started to ask, but before he had a chance to finish Tony interrupted with his usual reminders. 

“Alright, I’m sure you remember-” He paused a moment, shrugging, “well, maybe- that although you may not remember anything now, it should all come back over time,” Tony said as he typed updates into Bucky’s file. “Given that this wasn’t a very long recession- just a few hours- you should remember everything in a couple of days,” he decided with a firm nod, looking over to the disheveled man. “Do you remember anything from last night?” 

Bucky shook his head, “I remember the basement and the flashing lights…I remember following Sam back out to the jet, but it starts getting fuzzy there,” he said as he ran his fingers through his hair. His mind was exhausted from switching back and forth and he really didn’t have the energy to delve into it much longer. “I think I remember coming back to the tower, but it’s not clear.”

“Hm, Interesting,” Tony remarked as he typed in a few more long lines into the already lengthy files. Bucky couldn’t quite make out the words on the pages and pages of information on himself and the Winter Soldier, but then again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know anyway. 

“Well,” continued Tony, looking at you now, “seeing as I’ve heard that your front door is in a state of disrepair-” 

“-Kicked in,” you corrected swiftly, making Bucky’s concern rise. 

“Semantics, ” Tony disregarded with a wave of his hand, “-you two are welcome to stay in the tower until we get it fixed. Barnes’ old room is still open; I trust you two remember the way there?” 

----

You stepped into Bucky’s old room, a few personal items still scattered around here and there, but barely anything significant. Strong arms snaked around your waist, careful of your belly as they pulled you close against their firm frame.

Soft laughter bubbled from your chest as you gazed up at him, your head leaning back against his solid build, “Just like old times, huh?” You mumbled happily as you rubbed your hand up and down his forearms. 

“Mmm, back when I used to sneak you into the tower every other night?” his body rumbled with a gentle laugh, remembering the fond moments. The two of you lingered in the peaceful space for a moment, both of you happy to have finally put the stress of the past few hours behind you. Large hands smoothed down your rounded belly, inching the fabric of his sweatshirt up so he could feel his little girl properly.

You hummed softly, contentment easing into your every pore as you let out a big yawn. You were finally feeling the full weight of the day and you wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the small mattress. You pulled back, bringing his knuckles up for a  quick kiss as you stepped away, “I’m gonna get ready for bed. I’m beat…we both are,” you said with a gentle pat to your belly. 

Bucky nodded as he watched you leave his arms, your gait just slightly uneven as you tried to hide the extent of your limp, “Doll…” he called, causing you to glance back. 

“You never answered me earlier. What happened to your leg? And what did Stark mean by our door being broken in…?” he asked, watching closely as you stood with your back to him. Your shoulders tensed the slightest bit as he asked, your gaze turning away as you searched desperately for the right way to tell him. 

“I… It was an accident….” you said, trying to ease him into it as you started explaining from the beginning “I was at home in bed when-” You started, but he had already begun connecting the dots. The basement, the blood, the lapse in memory, only to finally find himself awake in Tony’s lab? It was all too familiar.

“You met him, didn’t you?” He asks quietly, “The Winter Soldier….”  The room went silent as you hesitated to answer, only the tremble of your beating heart to be heard in your ears, but it was all the reply he needed. 

He could feel the growing heat of anger simmer beneath his skin. He had failed you- he couldn’t frame it in any other way. He had tried so hard for so many years to keep you from meeting him, to keep you safe, and now- in your most vulnerable state- he had failed. Deep in his heart, he knew he was only angry with himself, but knowing it still didn’t seem to stop the way his words bubbled over and burned, “Why didn’t you tell me? Did he do this to you?” He pointed at your bandage, his anger was simmering into a rolling boil when it suddenly crashed into an icy panic.

“Shit, did he-” He gulped and continued with the faintest shuddering his breath, “Did he try to…? ” He couldn’t even finish the sentence, the thought too scary to speak into existence as his hand fell to your bump in worry. As an assassin his targets had always been adults in the past; would the Winter Soldier really target a child? Bucky couldn’t say for certain either way and that was enough for him to worry.

“What...? Bucky, no. He would never-“ 

“Do not tell me what he would and would not do, Y/n,” he seethed, using your name for the first time in what felt like forever. You had always been his doll….

“You think I don’t know the things he’ll do? You think I don’t see them again and again at night? No one is an exception to him, not even you-“

“But I-“ 

“And if you truly believe that-” his voice grew lower, his anger coming out in slicing breaths as he spoke, “-then maybe you’re not as smart as you let people believe you are….” 

You suck in a sharp breath as his last words hit you. You felt like a bucket of ice was thrown directly over your head and your brain reeled as it tried to make sense of it all. ‘Did he… did he really just say what I think he said?’  you questioned, but your brain just played those thorn-covered words on repeat, rubbing the truth into your open wounds. You tried not to take them to heart, you knew it had been a long day for the both of you, but how could you not? 

You took a shuddering breath as you looked down, tears welling in your eyes that you willed him not to see. You were too tired for this.

“Y/n..” he sighed as he watched you wordlessly gather his old clothes, long forgotten in the drawers from when he first moved in with you all that time ago. “Y/n, Where are you going? Come back here…” 

“I’m going to find another room.” You explained simply, forcing calmness into your tone, but you still couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Doll, I’m sorry-”

“No.” You said firmly, causing him to raise his eyebrows a bit as slowly you turned to face him, “I'm far too tired for this tonight, James. it’s been a long night, we’re both in pain, and you obviously need some time to cool down, because the Bucky I know? He would never speak to me like this,” You struggled to hold in your venom as you harshed out those last words, “Goodnight, Bucky.”

You let the welled-up tears finally break free as the door clicked closed behind you. Sniffling back the onslaught you wiped away your tears to peek around the hall, eventually settling on the room just across from his. “FRIDAY? Open up the door to room 7 please…” you asked, relieved when she did exactly as you asked- you’d have to thank Tony for that later. 

“Shit,” Bucky sighed into the empty room, now far too quiet for his liking. He always did everything he could hold to keep his anger in check with you, and it had been easy for the most part. Loving you had always come easy to him, and so he rarely had anything to be upset about. But this? This was new for him…. everything the Winter Soldier did was a means to an end. He was a deceiver, it was programmed into him over the decades and he couldn’t bear to let you fall prey to his games too.

Sleep eluded you for a while as you tossed and turned. You weren’t used to sleeping without him by your side, especially when you knew he was just a step and a knock away. But eventually, through your exhaustion, sleep finally came and you dreamed about your star that very night.

You dreamed of his eyes. Those intense blues that had rattled you so unexpectedly just hours ago. You were sure Bucky was wrong. Those eyes didn’t hold malice when they looked at you. No, they held knowing, like he had finally figured out a piece of himself. As if he had finally seen an aspect of what he could- no, what he would be. 

You also dreamed of his smile. As awkward and unpracticed as it was you still loved it. It was nowhere near as bright as Bucky’s, but it held reverence for you all the same. 

You dreamed of the promises he made against your belly. While you couldn’t distinguish the words he had said, you knew exactly what they meant; protection, strength, and the promise to return…. 

When you finally awoke your heart rang with a pang of guilt. Your dream-state comfort had been that of an assassin, an engineered “weapon”- and your heart’s blood-stained other half…. You sighed as you rubbed the sleep from your face. Was it right to be finding comfort in his icy blues instead of Bucky’s warm ones? Your thoughts fought each other for barely a minute more before you were brought back to the “talk” you and Bucky had yesterday. ‘He wouldn’t even listen to me! And then he’s going to go and call me stupid?! AGH’ you huffed as you slammed your fists down on the bed, your hands bouncing in an unsatisfying manner. 

Rolling out of bed, you got changed into Bucky’s old clothes, smoothing down the oversized items as you poked your head out of the room. All was quiet in the hallway and only a couple of distant voices could be heard from the kitchen and living area. Holding your belly you hobbled out, your leg searing with each step as you kept your head on a swivel for a certain super soldier. You weren’t quite ready to talk to him yet, all your frustrations still pumping through your blood in a slow but consistent course, However, your heart still found itself craving his familiar presence. 

A fleeting disappointment hung over you when you realized he was nowhere to be found, instead discovering Natasha and Sam as they chatted over breakfast. 

“It was.. weird, Nat. I know my interactions with him in the past have been limited, but I’ve never seen him like that before” Sam said and you knew they were talking about last night.

“Hey, you two…” You interrupted, causing them to pause as they watched you enter, but neither seemed uneasy as you butted in. 

“Y/N…” Sam greeted with a small smile, pressing a few buttons on the coffee machine to get something started for you, “How’s it going? It looks like your leg is still bothering you…” 

“Yeah... it’s burning more than last night, ” you rubbed your hand gently over your bandages in an attempt to soothe it, but it only stung more in retaliation. “Ah..” you hissed as you immediately retreated, “Yeah, it’s just a little sensitive….”

“We have some topical anesthetic and fresh bandages in the first aid kit if you want. I can grab them if Sam Is okay finishing off the rest of the pancakes?” the redhead proposed, holding the spatula out to him in an offering. 

“Oh?? I, Sam Wilson, get to finish making Natasha’s famous pancakes? What an honor,” He laughed as he feigned his esteemed admiration, taking the spatula and flipping the few already sitting in the pan.

 Nat grinned brightly as she made her way down the hall, whispering as she went past, “Truthfully? It’s a box mix. I just add vanilla and nutmeg and they never know the difference.”

You chuckled as you watched her go off to fetch the kit, truly thankful for the break in tension you were already feeling. You hadn’t gotten to know Natasha very well yet, on the off chance you visited the tower she was usually busy with missions, training, or paperwork, yet she welcomed you all the same. Part of you wondered if it was the former assassin in her that let her find friendship in you. After all, if you could love Bucky despite the Winter soldier, then surely you could be her friend despite her past, right?

You took a seat at the island's raised stools, watching Sam as he tried not to let the pancakes overcook. “So, Where is Bucky this morning?” You asked him, trying to be casual as you crossed your arms over the counter, thanking him as he placed a cup of decaf in front of you. 

But Sam paused; you always knew where Bucky was, sometimes more than they did at this stage in your pregnancy. He even swore sometimes that you two were attached at the hip. The fact that you didn’t know means something must’ve happened last night after he got reset. 

“He joined Steve on his morning run,” he answered as he leaned against the island opposite you, rolling his eyes as he continued, “It’s always ��on your left…!’ when I run with him. I hope he gives Steve a run for his money this time…” he shook his head and smiled a bit as he watched you, trying to check in, but you just laughed, your face cracking into a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“Speaking of your elusive super soldier…” Nat started as she returned, getting straight to the point as both her curiosity and old spy ways got the best of her, ”I heard the infamous Winter Soldier made an appearance last night...” She eyed you as well as she set the first aid kit down.

You tried to keep your smile, but as the conflicting thoughts and feelings of just last night resurfaced it was no time before it slipped away. You frowned at your mug, watching the dark swirls that lingered amongst the cream you added, “He did… he showed up at the house last night unexpectedly.”

Natasha’s frown matched yours as she spoke, “That bad, huh?”

“No, not at all. I mean, besides the almost getting shot part-“ you motioned as you began unwrapping your leg, your gash now open for the world to see. Though It was still a blazing red, it didn’t seem infected and for that you were thankful. 

Her eyebrows shot up as she looked over your wound, it was a good-sized graze and a very near miss, “Y/N do we need to have a talk about toxic relationships?” 

“What? No, Nat-” You waved her off, trying to get back on track as you began carefully cleaning it, “he’s not the one who shot me.” 

You didn’t miss the way Nat’s eyes darted to Sam, surprise written on her face for just a moment before her collected expression came back. “He didn’t? That seems….”

“I told you…He was different last night,  he was on the defensive this time.” Sam chimed in, tying back to their earlier conversation that you had interrupted.

You nodded in agreement and continued, “It was the security team that shot me, some new kid. I didn’t recognize his number or his face,” You explained. You couldn’t even be angry at that poor dumb soul either, he more than got what was coming to him. All you could hope for was that he learned something when he was dangling so uselessly in the air. 

Sam thought for a moment, back to the bristling frustration he saw written all over Bucky as he left this morning, enough that he worried the Winter Soldier might have made a second appearance. His concerns dissipated when Steve managed to pat the man’s shoulder without receiving an immediate knife to the throat, but now it made him wonder, “Does Bucky know this?”

Your expression softened and you continued to frown as you took a small sip, “No… I tried to talk about it with him last night, but he didn’t want to hear anything after he learned who I met,” you huffed with annoyance, not even bothering to hide it from your two friends. 

Sam nodded and held his hand up, “Well, I can’t say much since we only came in on the end, but maybe Bucky would listen to the body cam footage?”

You paused, blinking a few times as you processed what he said, “Body cam footage?” You questioned, setting the roll of bandages down, “What do you mean?”

“The security team is always required to wear body cameras when they go out. They should be reviewing it now,” Natasha explained. 

You nearly jumped out of your chair, the pain in your leg the only thing holding you back. This could be it! If he wouldn’t believe your words, then maybe he’d believe his own eyes. Bucky deserved to know what kind of man his other side of him really was; he deserved to know that you loved him wholly, finding comfort in both sides of the coin. 

You were determined not to give up on your star, because while Bucky had his friends to back him up, your Soldat had no one. No one, but you. 

“Where can I get it?” You rushed to ask, looking back between the two, who in turn exchanged glances with one another. 

Natasha took over pancake duty as Sam slid a plate in front of you and said, “It should be available sometime tomorrow, I can let them know you want a copy. Since you were the one caught in the crossfire they shouldn’t have a problem giving you access.” 

You nodded quickly, excitement and relief easing into your shoulders as you took your plate, letting out a breath you didn’t you were holding. 

This was it. 

--------

Bucky’s feet hit the pavement in time with his steady heart, maneuvering past people like boxes in crowded alleyways. He was supposed to be on a run with Steve, but his mind had been wandering the whole time.  ‘The Bucky I know? He would never speak to me like this,’ you had told him, so calm and so even that he honestly wished you had just screamed at him. His legs went into autopilot as your words rattled around his head. You were right, never in his waking minutes would it have ever crossed his mind to say those things to you. He was just so tired, so scared, and to top it all off it seemed like you had completely forgotten his warnings on the Soviet assassin. Or worse- that you purposefully went against them.

“Buck? Bucky!” Steve’s voice finally reached his ears as a hand grabbed his shoulder. 

“What? What is it..?” The brunet shook himself from his thoughts as he slowed to a stop, looking back at his friend.

“Where are you going? The tower is this way,” Steve shot a thumb over his shoulder in the opposite direction, the tower in plain view above the surrounding shops. 

Bucky stopped, blinking as he tried to process his surroundings. Where was he going? There was nothing in this direction except-

The apartment. 

Bucky sighed as he quieted the subtle itch at the back of his mind, “Nothing, nothing. Just lost in my thoughts. I’m here now,” he assured, to which Steve nodded, but obviously did not believe. He was always too smart for his own good.

“Let’s head back to the tower, okay? It’ll be our final mile. We can even stop by the bakery on our way.” 

Bucky willed himself to keep his thoughts in line as they ran their last mile, the tension in his body slowly unwinding only as they came to a stop and stepped into the sweet-smelling bakery. His senses were hit with a deluge of warm bread and spices that seemed to quiet his nerves for the time being. 

“What can I get for you, sugar?” the older woman behind the counter asked. Her smile was tired as she nursed an old cup of coffee and Bucky assumed she had been there since its opening hours ago. 

“Oh, um…” Bucky hummed as he looked through their displays, his heart really wasn’t in it like he wished it was. He was about to step back without getting anything when he spotted a fresh tray of cinnamon rolls coming out of the back. Cinnamon rolls had always been one of your favorite treats and he had rescued many a bad day with a surprise from the bakery. Maybe he could turn this bad day around too.

“Three cinnamon rolls, and three of the blueberry lemon rolls too. Uh, and a black coffee…. Please.” He asked, pulling his wallet out. 

“Sounds like you’re having quite the party,” she commented with a little chuckle as she filled up a box with fragrant pastries. 

“Ah, almost…I’m trying to make it up to someone,” He admitted sheepishly.

“Hm…” She hummed, looking right through him with practiced eyes, “You want me to throw some heart-shaped sprinkles in there or is that too much?” 

A tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth, “I think it’s gonna be just right.” 

Bucky rehearsed the whole walk back, running his apology through his head dozens and dozens of times until it felt perfect. You still didn’t seem to grasp the level of danger you were in or how lucky you were to get out with just a scratch, but he knew you wouldn’t be able to listen if you were still angry with him. Maybe this would smooth things over enough for him to explain- for him to tell you all the things he did, all the things his hands will forever be stained with. 

You knew the gist of it of course. Bucky had made it a point to let you know exactly what had happened to him over those years and exactly what his job as a living weapon was. The last thing he had wanted was for you to resent him for tricking you into loving him. But you deserved to know more, and these gooey pastries going to be his entry point.

Yes. He’d give you the treats, say his well-thought-out apology, and then he could finally explain. Hopefully, then you’d understand.

Well, that was the plan anyway.

As the doors opened up to their desired floor, Bucky could hear you before he even saw you. Your laugh rang like bells as you chatted away with Natasha and Sam, his heart bolstering with hope that your good mood would only make it better as he stepped forward. 

“Hey, Do-“ he started before his eyes landed on your leg. It was propped up on the stool beside you as you were obviously in the middle of caring for it. He hadn’t had a chance to see it yet, part of him not wanting to know just how bad it was, but now there was no ignoring it. It was bright red, yelling its ferocity and pain as you tried to air it out. The wound itself was still trying to heal over, its soft vulnerable flesh showing barely any sign of scabbing. Blood stained your old bandage and it all made his stomach twist without mercy. 

His mind couldn’t negotiate with him how bad it was anymore. Even though it was just a graze, he could see how painful and uncomfortable it was for you. He had failed you. What if it had just been an inch over? What if it had hit your bump? What if it had hit your heart? 

He didn’t even realize he had crushed the flimsy cup in his hands until Steve stepped back, saying something about getting paper towels. Scorching coffee steamed up from his metal hand where it continued to drip into the puddle below it.

You looked over in surprise as you heard the splash, seeing your Bucky standing there with an intensity so adamant that you almost mistook him for someone else. But his eyes aren’t staring at you, per se, but your leg. 

“Bucky, It’s okay, really-“ you tried, but he would not hear you; He wouldn’t hear anyone as he dropped his cup, the loud clattering in the quiet room almost more jarring than anything he could have said back. “Buck. Bucky, wait-!” but he was already walking away, forcing his gaze ahead as he passed by you like a ghost. 

You tried to reach out, to grab his sleeve, but he slipped right through your fingers. 

“Barnes, come on…” Natasha gently scolded, but he still refused to react. 

You blinked back your shock, willing the threat of tears to subside when you heard the loud thud of his door closing behind him. You let out a shuddering breath, your hands rubbing down your face and you wondered just how long this was going to last. 

After taking a few minutes to re-wrap your leg, hoping maybe he had cooled down once more you made your way down the hall. “Hm?” You mused wordlessly as you saw the small white box placed on the ground before your door. Being careful of your protruding bump, you squatted down- earning a small kick of protest- and lifted up the lid. 

‘Cinnamon rolls… my favorite. And he even got us a special flavor…. ‘

With utmost care, you closed the box again and turned to face his door. “Bucky? My heart…?” You tried as you knocked on his door, putting your ear against it as you listened in.

Silence.

You tried again, louder this time, “Bucky, are you in there...?” But were again met with nothing. Was he really ignoring you now? “Please, can we just talk?” 

Quiet.

Your skin couldn’t help but burn as you tried to hold in your frustration. ‘So now he doesn’t want to talk to me? What did I even do?!’ You thought as you dug your nails into your palms, using the sharp pain to ground you once more. 

With a deep breath, you turned, picked up the white box, and left him to his begotten silence.

---------

Bucky’s ears were deaf to your calls as the shower rained over him, washing off the coffee and grime of the whole morning. His breath broke through the steam as he sighed, dipping his head under the rush of scorching water as if it would wash away his worries too; It almost worked until a searing headache made itself known. 

The pain rippled in violent waves that came out of nowhere, consuming him suddenly and causing him to reach out blindly for the support of the slick wall. It was worse than getting kicked straight in the head, but he knew from experience that fighting it would only make it hurt more. 

Squeezing his eyes shut against the pain, he made the perfect dark theater as flashes and snippets of memories played behind his eyes. 

“Bucky…?” A vibrant grin spread across your lips, lighting up the room brighter than the phone on your bedside table. Someone was calling you, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away and the more he watched, the more your face changed. 

Your eyes squinted as you looked deeper into him and for a moment he could swear you saw the heavy weight of loneliness that ached in his chest. He felt the coldness of his expression, emotionless and lifeless save for the way his brows knit together, eyes searching yours with confusion and… wanting? Your brows knit together, almost a reflection of himself he thought, as you seemed to consider who you looked at. 

He could feel the smooth cold weight of the knife in his hand as he took a step closer, his head shaking slowly. 

Then suddenly your gaze took on a horrified expression, your eyes darting to the phone to see who was calling. 

“Soldat…” You whispered. You tried to steel yourself, but he heard the way your nervous voice shook- he saw the way your pulse thrummed rapidly in your neck. As the phone went dark he took another step- quiet, so as not to send you running. 

Your phone buzzed again, lighting up the room once more as he stood above you now and you looked so scared, but his expression did not change. Did he feel anything as he saw your cowering form below him? Or was he just another husk of a weapon? Could he ever be anything more?

He glanced at the phone; his time with you had been interrupted again- your attention was drawn from him again. And he couldn’t have that. A low growl rumbled from his chest as you tried to reach for it, and immediately you recoiled again. He would take care of this. He would take care of you.

Wordlessly he declined the call and left you in darkness again. While his knife slipped away, his metal hand reached out. Something in him called desperately to feel your skin beneath cool unforgiving metal. He needed to see all the ways your soft scared body reacted under his touch.

He would take care of you. 

“Please… Just don’t hurt her..” you begged.  

Bucky sucked in desperate breaths as the memories of just yesterday finally faded. The headache lingered, but it was nothing compared to the incessant twisting of his heart in his chest.

What did he do to you…?

-----

You found solace in the quiet of your room after Bucky refused to answer the door, wrapping yourself in the comfort of your duvet rather than his arms. You sighed, looking about the empty room as you leaned your head against the armchair you sat in. “Hey there, baby…” you cooed quietly to your belly, your words immediately met with excited kicks. “Enjoying the rolls as much as I am?” you laughed a bit as you took another bite of your pastry. 

You were lost in the one-sided conversation between you and your belly when a knock came at your door. You furrowed your brow as you sat up a bit wondering who it could be, only to sigh and lean back again, “Nat, I’m not sure I’m really in the mood for-”

“It’s Bucky…”

You paused, your mind at war with whether you ignored him like he ignored you… when you received a swift kick to the ribs, your baby firmly letting you know you were acting stupid. “Ah, ow- Okay, okay. You win… nice kick….” You mumbled to the inevitable bruise forming inside you. 

“FRIDAY, Unlock the door to room 7, please?” you requested, to which she gladly complied. 

As the door let out a soft click you watched your boyfriend’s head slowly peek inside, a faint smile growing on his features as his eyes finally settled on you. “Doll…” he breathed as if the simple action blessed him with life.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your features before you quickly pulled it all back in. You were still frustrated with him and you weren’t going to let him off so easily. You had to be strong and stick up for the Winter Soldier, after all, it was the least you could do. 

“Do you like them…? I know they’re your favorite,” he smiled as he motioned to the box of pastries, taking a few steps closer until he stood an arm's reach away. You wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of him against you and the tight safety of his arms, but that would have to wait.

“I do… Thank you,” you smiled faintly down at the box as you pulled the blanket tighter around you. 

He nodded, the ends of his lips remaining curled in a small smile, “I’m… I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to say those things, or imply that I don’t think you’re the smartest one in the room because you are.” His eyes cast down in shame before moving back up to you. He looked worn, as if he had been beating himself up for hours and you wanted nothing more than to take it all away. 

“I was tired, and in pain, and scared...” He tried to hide the slight tremble in his voice as he remembered the way his thoughts raced when he first learned you had met the Soldier. He frowned as he fought off the memory that had resurfaced just a short while ago as he continued, “I don’t mean to make excuses, and it won’t happen again, I just-,” he frowned, his jaw setting as he steeled himself and took a breath, “I can’t imagine the ways he must’ve hurt you, or the ways he intended to. It makes me sick to think that I wasn’t there to do anything, and even sicker to know I was the one doing them….”

But it was your turn to frown now, “Bucky, My heart. I keep trying to tell you he didn’t hurt me, He would never….” You assured, but this argument was beginning to look all too familiar.

“Doll, you can’t tell me that you really believe that…? You know the things he’s done, the indiscriminate blood on his hands-” he sighed as he also felt the argument beginning to go around in circles. 

Just as you were about to open your mouth FRIDAY interrupted, “Guest Y/N, Sergeant Barnes, Miss Romanoff has requested your presence in the living area. She asks that you do not delay.” 

You sighed as you looked at Bucky, who seemed to be just as confused as you were. Nevertheless, you peeled yourself from your blanket cocoon, steadying yourself on the chair’s arm briefly before heading toward the door. You could feel him following behind you, trying to stay a few steps back both in punishment to himself, and the urge to give you space.

You glanced back at him, offering your hand as you slowly made your way down the hall. Bucky took it immediately, holding your hand like it was a lifeline and you gently tugged him closer, urging him to fall in step beside you as you leaned on him for support; he has never been happier to be your crutch.

As the two of you walked into the living space you saw Natasha standing firm in front of the TV with the remote in her hands. Sam and Steve looked back from their place on the couch, waving a bit at each of you as you joined the group.

Before either of you could ask any questions Natasha got straight to the point, “Alright, I’m done feeling the tension between you two in the tower… you two have been arguing about something that- all in all, you two should just be happy went as good as it did..” she motioned for you two to take a seat before continuing, “But because you two are still at odds with each other I’ve asked to get the body cam footage expedited. We have the best of what they’ve gone through already and Barnes? I really think you should watch it…” she said with a pointed look and clear knowing. 

He cast an uneasy glance at Sam and Steve, but when he received a simple nod in return he nodded too, tugging you gently onto the seat beside him. With a sigh, he nodded at Nat to start the video. He wasn’t sure he was ready to see it, but he was on a mission and he fucked up, he deserved to know just how spectacularly he did it. 

You also motioned to Natasha, and she started the video. However, you could barely keep your eyes on the screen, instead, your eyes were glued to your beloved soldier’s face, waiting with bated breath for his reaction. 

Bucky tensed as the video started with the security team breaking through your door, leaving it broken and barely on its hinges as they rushed their way through the house. He took in a sharp breath as the video continued and he saw himself standing over you, the bunching of the sweatshirt making it evident that your baby- his baby- was fully exposed. But it wasn’t until he turned that Bucky’s body started to unwind, his expression still a mask of confusion as he saw you grab the assassin’s hand, his grip giving a comforting squeeze. 

“He…” 

Bucky’s heart twinged with conflicted feelings as you called out to the team, begging them not to shoot, while still pleading with him to stand down. He could see the look in the Soldier’s eyes, but it wasn’t one he recognized… It was tangled; a war between gentleness, vulnerability, and the unrelenting fight he had had beaten into him years and years ago. The Soldier stood unyielding, shielding the most vulnerable parts of you with his body as he brandished the small knife.

“He was… protecting you…?” Bucky whispered as he looked away, turning his eyes to your teary ones. Despite trying to blink them away, a few still found their escape down your cheeks.

“It’s all he wanted…” You nodded, trying to fight back the renewing well in your eyes, but you knew how it all ended, and though you knew he was still alive you couldn’t help but feel the loss of him still. “ He just wanted a place to call home, a place to be safe…” 

Bucky’s hand gripped yours, giving its own reassuring squeeze as he turned back to the screen. ‘My Sun…’ he called you, pure reverence and love in his voice that Bucky had never expected to hear from him. ‘My Star…’ you had called him back, desperate and pleading eyes as he turned back to you. 

The security team shouted at him to comply again, and the body cam shifted, showing a young kid whose gun trembled as if he was in the middle of a terrible earthquake. The woman wearing the camera recognized his anxiety and tried to talk him down, but he couldn’t listen and his gun went off with a bang. Bucky could see the kid’s surprise as he accidentally pulled the trigger, and the fear as you clutched desperately to your wounded leg. 

He winced as he saw the assassin’s cold expression return and again as a shot lodged square into his shoulder. He knew what was coming before he even lifted the kid in the air, your begging and crying out for his life ringing loudly in the background. No wonder you had been so adamant about defending him, he had done just the same for you. 

When the kid was dropped, yet still breathing and the Soldier returned to you Nat finally cut off the video, sighing a bit at the overbearing air of the room. 

Everything was quiet for a moment as Bucky took in the weight of the video until Sam and Steve broke the silence. 

“We were able to convince him to come back to the tower to be reset after that…”

“He was the one who patched up Y/n’s leg, and vice versa…”

You nodded in agreement, wiping your dry cheeks as you felt tears beginning to return, “He knew he had to go… and he was happy to do so. I think…” You took a breath as Bucky reached over to wipe the falling tears, “I think he was just happy to know he finally had more, more than one purpose.” 

Quietly Natasha waved everyone else from the room, giving you two much-needed space. 

“That’s why I’m so sure, Bucky... He would never hurt us,” you rested your hand on your belly, “He took bullets for us, just like I know you would- and I have no doubt that he’d do it again. And god, Buck- he loves her so much,” you choked out a sob as you spoke, “He promised her the absolute world and he can’t wait to meet her…” 

“Doll…” 

“And I can’t wait either,” you said firmly despite your current teary disposition, “I’m glad I finally met him, Bucky. Because despite the separation you and the team refer to him with he is still a part of you.” You looked into the softening eyes of your beloved as you continued “And I know he’s not a part you’re proud of but that won’t make him disappear. I know the things he’s done, and I know that you blame yourself for them, but his actions are not yours….” You said.

“I can’t condone the things he’s done, but I know what he’s doing now, and I know that no matter what you think of him I love every part of you, James Barnes. Even the parts you don’t want me to see.”

Bucky’s eyes blinked as they looked down trying to contain the swell of emotions creeping dangerously close to the edge. Slowly he lifted your hand to his lips, kissing your palm like it was worship, “I love you so much, Y/n… I’m sorry I didn't listen before. And though it still makes me hesitate, I’m glad you finally know who he is. He- We are beyond lucky to have you, and even luckier that you somehow manage to love the both of us. I was worried you’d hate me for him...” 

“Oh, my heart… I could never stop loving you in any way that would last.”

_____________

Bucky Taglist:

@writingmysanity @simpxinnie @mirtaqueen @blackhawkfanatic @mcira @aagn360 @nialiuwanderlust @waywardhunter95

thanks to everyone who wanted to be tagged this chapter! If you want to be added to the general Bucky taglist please just let me now!

[delaber]

Warrior/Worrier (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: After a mission gone awry, Bucky finds himself on your doorstep in the middle of the night.

Words: 5.3K

Fluff, fluff and fluff and a lil bit of angst. Classic hurt/comfort and friends to lovers

Through the darkness, there's a knock on your bedroom door, so soft, so cautious, that if you hadn't already been half-awake, you're not sure you would've caught it.

Legs quickly swung over the side of your mattress, you stop and focus at a fixpoint in your moonlit room.

According to the big mission schedule hung in Steve's office, you should be the only one at the compound, so you cannot for the life in you figure out who would rap on your door at 3.30 in the morning, but it wasn't just something you'd imagined because there it is again. A knock, not much louder than before, but definitely there.

For a brief second, your foggy brain ponders that it's likely someone who's been sent to kill you in the dead of night, but before you've even reached for your bedside Beretta, rationality reminds you that they probably wouldn't have had the curtesy to knock first - and then it dawns on you.

"Nat," you sigh with a roll of your eyes and let your bare feet hit the floor while you rub the sleep from off your face. It's not the first time she's forgotten the lock combination to her room after post-mission drinks.

Slowly, you walk across the cold floorboards and over to the wooden door where you can hear ragged breathing from the other side of the wall. Hand lazily pulling the door open, you start talking before you've seen who's on the other side.

"It's only four digits and you're panic breathing?" you chuckle but is immediately taken aback when you're not met by Natasha but instead by your best friend. "...Buck?"

He's back from his mission a day earlier than you'd expected and you're just about to crack a witty comment on how you'd told him that Sam couldn't stand to be alone with him for more than thirty-six hours, but then you notice the state he's in.

His entire body is slumped over as he clutches his right arm tight to his chest, eyes droopy and blank, cheekbones dotted by freckles of soot and framed by thick strands of auburn hair caked in dried blood. "Doll," he breathes painfully and takes a step closer, looking only mildly relieved to see you.

"Buck!" you hiss in fear and grab both his cheeks, but his dirty face just drops further, and he can't even look at you though you're standing mere inches apart.

"I know it's late," he mumbles with his gaze downcast, "but can I come in?"

It's as if you don't hear him clearly enough to respond. His voice is under water and at the same time layers above you while you're far too concerned with every look of horror splashed across his handsome face, your hands frantically clutching his bloodied cheeks as you desperately search his eyes though he still won't look at you. "What happened? Where's all this blood coming from?"

"It's - it's not mine..." he croaks with a small shake of his head.

Fear ripples through your entire body one more time and you can barely speak as you imagine the worst possible scenario that might have caused Bucky to behave like this. "Is it... Sam?" you whimper with tears already burning in your eyes, fighting the urge to throw up.

"He's fine," Bucky quickly interrupts with a small nod, "I dropped him off at his girl's place twenty minutes ago," he croaks and finally looks up at you, his eyes more broken than you've ever seen them before. It makes your heart crack in two. "Sweetheart, can I please come in?"

"Oh god," you pant anxiously and reluctantly let your fingers slide off his cheeks as you step to the side and finally let him inside your bedroom. "Yes, yes of course you can come in."

Immediately, he's on your bed, his face buried in his vibranium hand as the pads of his fingers start rubbing circles over his dusty forehead.

"What happened?" you barely manage to croak as you sit down beside him and carefully place a hand on his rigid thigh. "Last time I heard from you, everything was going according to plan."

"I don't want to talk about it," he gulps and starts rubbing his face even more agitatedly, looking over at you with an apologetic look on his face. "- not right now... I just had to see you. I'm sorry I woke you up."

You grab his vibranium hand and bring it down to his lap to get him to stop his frantic movements and he immediately squeezes you tight, letting out another heart-breaking sob.

"It's okay, Buck. I'm glad you're here."

Over the last year, you've seen Bucky on his darkest days a handful of times, and he usually has the same look on his face, but this time, it's different. It's deeper. Despondent and morose, the anger that's usually posessing him om the bleaker days replaced by a different kind of sadness.

Something really bad must've happened...

"Do you wanna sleep in here tonight?" you ask, unsure how to tackle this the best way possible if you don't want him to shield himself off in his room the way he usually does when he's not feeling his best. He shouldn't be alone under any circumstances.

You're half expecting him to protest, but to your surprise he starts nodding, relieved. "Thank you," he whispers and squeezes your hand tight again.

You make an attempt at a comforting touch as you brush over the soot on his cheeks, making a strand of dirty hair dipped in dried blood fall from his forehead. "You want a shower? I can draw you a bath."

He nods again.

"Come on, love," you say quietly and watch as he gulps hard at the sound of the tender pet-name that you've been wanting to call him for months now but haven't had the guts to say out loud until it accidentally slips past your lips. Surprisingly, you're not even embarrassed by yourself. You suppose there are more important things to worry about than an accidental profession of love in a moment of gentle affection.

Bucky seems taken aback too, frozen, and full of wonder, but he shakes it off and lets you pull him to your small bathroom, accepting your fluffiest towel without a word as he continues staring at you.

"I'll be just outside, okay?" you say reassuringly as you turn on the water in your bathtub, making sure it's the right temperature before putting in the drain stopper.

He's still looking at you with huge eyes, flesh arm clutched to his chest while the fluffy white towel gently supports his elbow. You silently wonder if he's hurt but before you can ask him, he speaks.

"Can you... stay?" He asks quietly, biting his inner cheek, unsure if his request is too much.

Still, it's your turn to be taken aback. You and Bucky are close but not like that. 

"Stay?" you instinctively furrow your eyebrows, "while you shower?

He immediately clenches his jaw shut and shakes his head while small patches of pink appear on his cheeks underneath all the dirt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, no it's okay," you quickly stand up from your position by the tub spout so you're once again levelled. "- I was just surprised, that's all," you want to smack yourself for making him doubt himself. "Of course I'll stay."

Ice blue irises slowly find yours while the rose tint of his lower lip is being pulled between his teeth. "Are you sure?" he hesitates while sucking in some air, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."

"You're not," you touch your hand to his sternum to underline your words and watches as the crease between his eyebrows slowly reduces as he gradually relaxes under your touch. You can't help but think that even through all the dust and the grime, he looks incredibly beautiful.

"Let me give you some privacy," you unwillingly let go of him and turn away so he can undress in peace.

From behind you, you can hear the ruffle of his tac pants being pushed down his legs before the belt buckle clangs loudly against the tiles of the floor. It's followed by a series of loud painful grunts and hisses a few seconds later.

"Are you okay?" you ask and turn your head to the side, careful not to look directly at him as to not break the trust he put in you when he asked you to stay. "Buck?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," he sighs in embarrassment behind you, "it's just... do you think you could... help me?"

You turn around slowly to find him standing in the middle of the bathroom still wearing his torn t-shirt and Kevlar vest, bare-legged in boxer shorts and black socks pulled high up on his calf while his pants are lying crumbled on the floor beside him. He's awkwardly shifting the weight between his two feet, still clutching his right arm tightly. "It's my elbow."

Immediately, you furrow your eyebrows and walk over to him, taking his right hand in yours. "Yeah, I meant to ask you earlier. What happened?"

He doesn't answer but just silently lets you examine the swelling and black-purple skin that's half-hidden underneath dust and blood.

"Shit," you breathe and hear him give out a sharp hiss when you turn his arm over so you can examine the other side, "Buck, I think your elbow's torn."

"Me too," he gulps, "- I heard it snap."

At the mere thought of the sound, a wave of nausea hits you square in the chest and your stomach starts to churn. You can feel the tang of acid push up on your tongue when you imagine the pain he must've been enduring - still is enduring - but you fight it relentlessly and eventually manage to swallow down the bile. You should be taking care of him, not the other way around.

"We should go down to the infirmary," you say and keep your gaze firmly placed on the purple bruising, so he doesn't notice your discomfort. "I know it probably won't take too long to heal with the serum and all but just to make su-"

"Sweetheart," he gulps from above you and it makes you stop mid-sentence. "Not tonight, okay? I just wanna stay here tonight."

You look up at him, about to protest, but the words quickly die in your throat when you notice the look he's wearing. He's begging. Anxious. Heavy-hearted.

"Okay," you reluctantly agree and carefully let go of his arm while he sends you a grateful look. "Come on, let me help you out of this," you say quietly in defeat and unstrap his vest beneath his ribs, pulling the Kevlar plates over his head while he groans loudly.

"Ah!" he hisses and clutches his elbow tight, squeezing his eyes shut when you try and pull his t-shirt over his head. "Fuck!"

"You good?"

"Mm-hmm" he hums displeased with lips pressed so tightly together they're forming a thin, white line. "Just get it over with."

You pull on the hem again so the dark fabric rides up his stomach, revealing scarred skin pulled tight over the bulging muscles you've spent so many warm summer days discreetly staring at. "Can you reach your arms just a little higher?" you ask and watch how his diaphragm heaves in small electric shocks when he cannot control the loud gasps that escape his throat.

"Fuck me!" He hisses and squeezes his eyes so tightly shut that his entire face pales. "Just rip the damn fabric off," he hisses angrily, "I can't extend my fucking arm."

"Are you sure you don't wanna get it checked out in the med wing?" You let go of his t-shirt and look him deep in the eye, hoping your concerned gaze can convince him that it'll be worth the trip just to get your jumping nerves under control.

"Just... get me out of this thing," he sighs in defeat. "Cut it open, I don't care."

Disinclined, you dive down in the drawer underneath your sink, pulling out a small flat-legged scissor that came with a roll of gauze you bought last year when you had a nasty wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. "Are you sure?" You look up at him as you put the blade underneath the hem of his t-shirt.

Through the fingers you have placed over his chest, you can feel how his pulse quickly falls again when your eyes meet.

"S'just a t-shirt," he mumbles quietly while nodding, "I'm sure..."

Though you want to stay in this position forever, you slowly look away from him and down at your hands as your hesitantly start cutting, careful not to pierce Bucky's flesh with the sharp scissors.

The blade runs through the fabric like a hot knife through butter and you can feel every tense muscle that the edge of the scissors encounters as they travel over his warm stomach and chest. It makes the blood roar in your ears as more and more skin is revealed underneath your fingertips.

Concentrated on not hurting him even more, you keep your gaze firmly placed on his heavily panting chest as you cut open the front of his black shirt and carefully peel the fabric off his bruised arm until he's standing in front of you in nothing but black boxers and socks, his left hand carefully reaching out for yours as if to comfort both of you.

You've seen him bare chested several times before, but it's never been in this close proximity, never been this intimate, just the two of you holding hands and looking each other deep in the eye as you silently try to assure the other that everything is going to be okay.

"So..." you clear your throat, embarrassed by the fact that you have to hold yourself back from leaning forwards, planting a small kiss on his dusty cheek. "- I take it you can shimmy your way out of those on your own, right?" You nod down towards his boxers and he blinks as if he's just woken up from a trance.

"Yeah," he nods and lets go of your hand while the pink patches make a reappearance on his face.

Slowly, you turn around facing the running spout in the tub to the soft sound of cotton hitting the floor behind you. Involuntarily, you give out a gulp and flusteredly grab the box of bath salts just to give your shaking hands something to do. You cannot believe that your extremely fuckable best friend is standing naked in your bathroom no more than two feet away, begging you to stay close to him.

Eyes still firmly placed on the water in the tub, you point over your shoulder to the rainfall shower in the opposite corner of the bathroom. "You wanna rinse off first?"

"I better," Bucky hesitates behind you. "Don't you think?"

"It'll be a much nicer bath if you do," you awkwardly clear your throat.

"Yeah, you're right," he sighs and turns on the shower, immediately stepping inside and closing the glass door behind him so you can finally breathe freely again.

Through the mirror above the sink, you can make out his naked silhouette behind the matte glass and how the tension in his shoulders first tenfolds and then completely disappears the minute the water turns warm and he relaxes. He lets his forehead fall forwards so it's pressed up against the cold tiles while the water runs over his defined shoulders and down his sculpted back, and you literally have to force your eyes away from him and the shape of his handsome torso.

With your gaze fixed firmly on the fuzzy bathmat at the foot of the shower, you hear the sound of your bath gel being opened, followed by a series of painful grunts as Bucky desperately tries to lather himself with the soap.

"Fuck," he mumbles quietly and before you've even voiced a single word of concern, he continues. "Sweetheart, I know it's a lot to ask..." he says a little louder, the embararssement still evident in his voice, "- but I'm gonna need a little help in here... it's - it's this damn elbow," he sighs, "I'm useless. Can you...?" his voice trails off and the question hangs thickly in the air between you.

He wants you to join him.

To wash him.

Take care of him.

The thought alone makes you nervous, you have to admit, but he needs your help and you're willing to do anything for him.

"Give me a minute," you gulp and strip down to your panties, pulling on the bra you wore earlier so you're not completely bare in there. Several times, you've dreamt of you and Bucky naked together, but not like this - never like this - and you'll be damned if the first time he sees you without a shred of clothes is because he needs help and not because he needs you.

With your pyjamas neatly folded on top of the toilet seat cover, you take a final look at yourself in the mirror, brushing your hair out of your eyes before nervously reaching for the shower door with shaking hands.

He's still standing with his chiselled back towards you, letting the water rinse over his dirty hair and down between his shoulder blades with a slightly pinkish hue. "I'm so sorry about this," he mumbles uncomfortably and hands you your loofah behind his back. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Come on, Buck," you say as you dribble a little soap on the sponge, fighting the urge to let your gaze run all the way down to his thick thighs. "Don't beat yourself up, you know I'm always here for you."

"Still," he mumbles and goes silent as the loofah gently runs over his tense shoulders and traces down his spine.

The white soap bubbles work magic on his dirty skin and you make sure not to leave out a single square inch of his scarred backside as you wash him while fighting the urge to wrap your arms around his torso, telling him how glad you are that he not alone came home, but also that he came to you seeking help instead of barricading himself in his room. It seems significant that he's here, as if something's changed between you though you cannot put your finger on it.

Completely lost in thought, you accidentally run the loofah a little too vigorously over his right tricep, sending shockwaves down his broken bone and resulting in a painful hiss falling from his open mouth.

"Sorry," you mumble, and scrub down his lower back, this time more careful with your movements though there aren't any dirty or bloody spots left on either side of his spine. "There we go" you conclude quietly when you realise that the rinsing water has finally lost its pink and grimy hue. "Turn around," you ask and hope he cannot hear the nervousness straining your voice. No matter what, you're not looking down.

Bucky seems just as jittery about his compromising position as you do, and he slowly spins around, revealing pink cheeks and heaving pecs, his gaze glued to the ceiling as he looks as if he's ready to fling himself off the nearest cliff. "God, sweetheart," he mumbles and breathes hard, "I'm so sorry for all this."

"Bucky, come on - what'd I tell you?" you touch the loofah to his chest, careful not to look anywhere than at the sponge itself as it traces over his collar bones and down his handsome stomach.

He merely sighs and stands completely still while you rinse the crevices between the metal plates over his left clavicle, careful not to move his torso so much he hisses in pain again.

"...You're a good friend," he mumbles after a few focused minutes where you've carefully been scrubbing the gold-plated lines in the vibranium, "- I ever tell you that?"

"All the time," you smile genuinely for the first time since he knocked on your door earlier that evening. If there's one thing you can count on, it's that Bucky Barnes appreciates you more than anything.

"I mean it," he says, "never doubt that."

You look up into his eyes.

He looks so soft and innocent as he stands before you, face finally clean, wet hair sticking to his forehead while he professes his love for you. Even if it's just platonic, it makes your heart skip a beat.

"I know, Buck."

"Good," he nods and blinks a few times with heavy, wet lashes framing his cerulean eyes. The air between you is thicker than ever and for a brief moment, it looks as if he's about to lean in and kiss you, but you break the tension by looking away. You don't want to take advantage of his vulnerable state no matter how badly you want that kiss.

"You ready for the tub?" You ask him in a weirdly shaky voice.

He nods while an almost inaudible sigh escapes his lips. "Yeah," he says and turns off the water, quickly exiting the shower before you can take notice of the disappointment burning on his skin.

You dry your feet on the small fuzzy mat, carefully watching Bucky's naked backside as he tests the temperature in the tub by dipping his toe in the water before stepping over the porcelain edge, sitting himself down.

Immediately, he gives out a content sigh, and drapes right arm over his chest, supporting his broken elbow with vibranium fingers, and you finally deem the situation safe enough to approach him again.

"Want me to wash your hair?"

"Mmh" he hums with closed eyes, immediately more relaxed now that he's covered by water. "I don't deserve you."

You grab your shampoo bottle and push out a decent amount of liquid, pressing it to his warm scalp to the sound of an alleviated sigh falling from his lips as you carefully start massaging it into his roots.

"Does that feel good?" you ask through a smile.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he groans quietly, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter awake, "- feels amazing."

You're slowly lathering shampoo into his long hair, enjoying the feel of him underneath your fingertips, how his soft hair slips through your hands while also trying not to think too much about the kiss you robbed yourself of in the shower. You can hear how his breathing slowly steadies and you think that maybe he's in the early stages of sleep but then he unexpectedly heaves a deep breath -

"You know... I haven't been scared of death for a long time," he says so sudden, so seriously that you're immediately brought out of your trance as your every muscle freezes at his austere tone of voice. "I used to not care if I lived or died but... tonight didn't go as planned," he swallows thickly and you can see how his jaw tenses up as his voice becomes husky, "- they... had me."

"What?" you pant with mortification, your every skeletal muscle paralysed as your breathing picks up. You don't have to ask him who he's talking about.

"Sam and I, we were so sure of ourselves," he shakes his head with his gaze fixed on the wall straight ahead. "We thought had the perfect plan... I - I'm such an idiot, nothing ever runs smoothly with Hydra."

You can feel your heart thumping in your throat. "What happened?" You whisper.

"Sam was on the look-out while I got the hard drive," he mumbles, "it was so easy. It didn't even take me five minutes before I was heading back towards the safehouse," he gulps, "- of course it was an ambush. I should have realised the minute I set foot inside that building."

"You couldn't have known," you whimper softly and stroke his scalp, but he doesn't listen.

"- I thought I was..." the words drown in a heavy sigh, and he stares blankly into space while blinking the tears away.

"Buck," you whisper and can feel the pain radiating from every fibre of his entire being when you wrap your arms around his wet torso and hold him close to your chest.

"They took me to a room. Strapped me down," he takes a ragged breath, and you hold on to him even tighter, "I was sure that was it. I never thought I'd find myself home again."

"You're home now," you whisper and softly kiss his shoulder, hoping that he doesn't feel the tear that lands on top of his clavicle. "You're home now with me."

"I know, sweetheart," he leans into your hug with a sigh, "trust me, I know."

"Everything's gonna be alright, love," you whisper against him and stroke your hand over his hair, "it's you and me against the world, always."

"You and me," he quietly confirms and leans back into your chest with a deep breath.

You continue stroking him over the hair, hold on to him for dear life, not willing to let go as you feel him relax more and more in your arms until he starts snoring slightly, finally warm and safe in your embrace.

"Buck, come on," you instinctively kiss him right below his ear, "you're sleeping. Let's get you into bed."

"Sorry," he mumbles groggily and lets his head fall back against your shoulder. "m'just so fucking tired. Been up thirty-six hours..."

"We'll talk tomorrow," you kiss him again and unwillingly unwrap yourself from around his chest, standing up straight beside him. "I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

He's looking up at you with puppy eyes, gaze slowly travelling down your body and up again as if he hadn't realised you were in your lingerie until that exact moment. "You look beautiful," he says quietly and you half-expect him to laugh it off, but his face stays serious.

"...Thanks," you croak while handing him the fluffy towel, not sure how to react to his sweet words. He's called you many things, but he's never downright called you beautiful before.

"I can take it from here, sweetheart," he nods slowly and steals one last glance down at your body, "you just go to bed. I'll be in in a minute."

"Okay," you whisper and peel yourself away from the tension between you by swiftly turning around, exiting the bathroom.

Back in your room, you barely have time to get out of your wet underwear and put on a fresh set of pyjamas, before a boxer-clad Bucky joins you on the bed.

"Are you still okay with me staying the night?" He asks, nervously.

"Of course I am," you answer immediately and find his vibranium hand underneath the covers, lacing your fingers between his as you scan his weary features. "See if you can get some sleep, okay? You need it," you brush a strand of wet hair away from his face and make sure he's fine by gently cupping his cheek before closing your eyes, hoping he's following your lead, doing the same.

The dark room goes completely quiet for a few minutes where the only audible sound is of your synchronised breathing.

You can feel yourself grow impossibly tired too as you lie there hand in hand with Bucky, and you're just about to succumb to sleep, when suddenly, his quiet whisper breaks the silence.

"I thought about you," he says softly, and it makes you open your eyes again.

You're staring straight into his handsome face, his beautiful blue eyes scanning over your features as he slowly clarifies.

"When they had me strapped down, I thought about you," he moves his fingers against the palm of your hand and completely engulfs you. "The thought of not seeing you again was..." the words die in his throat, and he looks as if he's seconds away from whimpering. "- Sweetheart, you make me so afraid of dying."

You breathe hard with quivering lips, huge eyes matching his as you let his confession sink in.

"I was so desperate to come home, I snapped the restraints in half. Snapped my own elbow along with them," he winces slightly at the painful memory that once again makes your stomach churn. "Sweetheart, I fought like hell. I don't think I've ever been so angry... I - I killed everyone I could get my hands on, I just had to see you again," he brings your hand to his soft lips and kisses the delicate pulse point of your wrist.

"Buck..." a slow whine escapes your throat as you try to blink away a stubborn tear that slowly starts rolling down the side of your nose.

"I love you," he whispers so softly against your thin skin that you almost don't hear. His eyes are closed and he looks relieved to be lying here with you, so you carefully pull his hand to your chest, placing his vibranium palm above your heavily beating heart.

"I love you too."

"Sweetheart," he whispers above you and moves his hand a little on top of your soft pyjamas while lightly shaking his head with a sigh. "No, you don't understand..." he gulps and searches your face, "I love you."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"- I want more than this," he slowly admits. "I want to be more than your friend. I'm in love with you."

You squeeze his hand and move a little closer to him, scared that he'll stop confessing his love if you say something to throw him off track.

He holds on to you and can feel how your pulse starts racing underneath your pyjamas. "I hope I'm not scaring you off."

"No, no you're not," you say in a hoarse voice, "not at all. I - I think about you all the time."

"You do?" He breathes hard, clearly not believing what he's hearing.

"Yeah," you merely nod and move your head a little closer to him while he does the same. "I'm in love with you too, Buck. Have been for quite some time."

With a serious look, he moves his hand from off your chest and up to your face where he brushes a finger over the delicate features of your cheekbone and down to your jawline. "I'm gonna kiss you now," he warns in a whisper and waits for you to give him a nod before he reaches his head forwards, finally claiming your mouth with his lips.

His hand snakes down the length of your spine and you press your entire front up against his hard chest and stomach while he caresses the small of your back, slipping his soft tongue inside your mouth. "God," he moans and gently grabs hold of your hips, pulling you impossibly close to him. "You make me feel whole again," he whispers against your skin and kisses a small line from your earlobe and down to the base of your clavicle. "What do you say sweetheart?" he mumbles and nibbles at your skin, "can I take you out?"

"Yeah, Buck, you can take me out," you squeeze his hand, and he smiles for the first time that evening, setting everything inside of you aflame.

He's finally smiling and it's because of you.

"I wanna do it the old-fashioned way," he says, beaming, "bring you flowers. Take you dancing. Show you how you're supposed to be treated."

You can't help but chuckle at his soft innocence. "You're an old man," you brush him over his hair, "nobody goes dancing anymore."

"I'll teach you," he chuckles back but lets it turn into a sharp hiss when he accidentally moves his broken elbow.

"That sounds lovely," you admit with a smile, excited at the prospect of having his hands on your hips while he tells you what to do, "- though I'm afraid we'll have to get that elbow sorted first if you want to manoeuvre me around on the dancefloor. I know you don't see the point in going but... med wing tomorrow morning?"

"Okay," he rolls his eyes with a laugh that makes your stomach go all warm and fuzzy. "If it gets me to go dancing with you just an hour earlier, it's worth the trip... Will you go with me?"

"Yeah, I'll go with you," you kiss his hand, and he chuckles so warmly your stomach lights up again. "I'll go with you always."

[literaryavenger]

Birthday Kiss

Summary: It's Bucky's birthday and he decides to spend it with his best friend, Steve, and Steve's little sister, you.

Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Rogers!Reader, Brother!Steve Rogers x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Angst. Idiots in love. Fluff. Vague mentions to sex. Language 'cause I can't help myself. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 3.4K

Prompt: "So what should I say?" "when?" "when I love someone." "you should say it"

A/N: Since it's almost Bucky's birthday I wanted to celebrate it with my first fic with 40s Bucky! He's one of my favorite Buckys and I've been wanting to write about him for a while and I finally got this idea! Hope someone enjoys it! In my mind this happens like a year before Captain America: The First Avenger, so Bucky is turning 25, Steve is 23 and the Reader is 21, but you can always imagine any age you want. As always, any ideas for fics are appreciated!

Masterlist

You enter the room to see Bucky is hanging out in yours and Steve's apartment, like he always does, sitting down at the window, smoking a cigarette and reading the evening newspaper while a football game plays on the television in the living room and Steve sits on the couch, drawing on his notebook.

You're used to Bucky being here, he's your big brother's best friend and you've come to be very close friends with him too, even if you wished there was more.

As clichè as it is to have a crush on your brother's best friend, you couldn't help it. He was handsome and funny, and he's always sweet and protective of you.

You've known him since you were 9 years old, and he's the only family you have left other than Steve.

"Is this really how you're going to spend your birthday?" You ask Bucky as you sit on the couch next to Steve.

Bucky turns around towards you with a bright smile, his blue eyes lighting up as soon as he sees you, like they always do whenever he's around you.

He puts out the cigarette and stands up, walking over to you, sitting down on your other side and pulling you into a side hug.

"Hey, doll. I didn't think you were gonna be here today." He says, although he seems more happily surprised by your presence than disappointed.

"I live here, Barnes." You tease him with a smile. "Unlike you."

He rolls his eyes playfully as Steve snickers next to you while he keeps drawing. "I know that. I meant, I thought you were gonna be out with your friends tonight."

"I didn't feel like it." You dismiss him quickly, not wanting to actually say out loud that you'd rather spend his birthday with him doing nothing than go out with your friends, so you try to casually change the subject. "I thought you'd at least want to spend today with Dot."

Dot isn't actually Bucky's girlfriend, they've been on a few dates and you've seen them together a couple of times, but Bucky introduced her to you as a friend so you don't think they're that serious.

Not that Bucky ever is, girls are always all over him and he takes advantage of that. He's a ladies man.

But you try not to worry too much about his love life, not wanting to hurt yourself more than knowing Bucky will never see you like that already does.

"Well, I wanted to spend my birthday with my favorite pair of siblings. She can give me my birthday kiss tomorrow." He says with a grin while ruffling your hair.

"So... What's been going on with you lately, doll? Anything interesting happening in your life?" He asks curiously after a pause, genuinely wanting to know more about your day-to-day activities and experiences.

"I... Well, I went on my first date." You say shyly while playing with the edge of your dress.

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, his interest piqued by your sudden confession. "First date? Who was it with? How'd it go?" He asks with what seems like excitement but mentally preparing himself to potentially become jealous or possessive no matter who you mention.

"It was fine..." You say quietly, still not looking at him. "It just wasn't... It wasn't what I was expecting..."

Bucky senses something off in your tone and expression, and immediately becomes concerned. He places a gentle hand on your knee, trying to comfort you without making it too obvious.

"What happened, doll? Did things not go as well as you hoped they would? Are you feeling okay?" He asks softly, trying to gauge whether or not you want to open up about what happened during your date and if there's anything he can do to make it better.

You don't really know how to answer his question, so you don't, simply glancing at him before looking away and shrugging.

"Tell me what happened, I'm here for you no matter what. If that guy hurt your feelings or made you uncomfortable, I'll kick his ass for sure." He promises fiercely, his protective instincts kicking into high gear whenever you seem vulnerable or upset.

You giggle weakly at his protectiveness but still don't look at him, so he takes your chin gently but firmly and makes you look at him. "Tell me what happened on your date. Was it some creep who tried to grope you or something worse? Because if he did, I swear to god I will find him and break his fucking legs."

"That's not it, Bucky." You say quickly. "It's just... He just... He wasn't..." You. He wasn't you. That's what you want to tell him, but you can't, so you sigh and shrug again. "He just wasn't my type."

Bucky knew what was your type. He knew he was your type, he has seen you ogle him countless times when he walked past you or sat near you.

He also knew that you had never shown any interest in any of the men who approached you, always dismissing them as not good enough for you. Or at least that's why he thought you did.

Glancing at Steve before looking back at you again, Bucky says quietly. "Well, that's too bad for him I guess."

"It doesn't matter, I'm not seeing him again." I say quietly, avoiding both Steve and Bucky's eyes.

Bucky's brow furrowed in confusion, he couldn't believe you were so quick to give up on a potential relationship just because the guy didn't live up to your impossible standards.

"Doll, you gotta give guys more of a chance. They ain't all as bad as you seem to think they are." He scolds you playfully, but there was also a hint of underlying irritation in his tone as he takes a long sip from his beer bottle.

You glance at him before looking away again. "So... You think I should go on another date with that guy?" You ask quietly.

Bucky thought for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of pushing you to go on another date with the mystery guy. "Yeah, actually. I mean, if you think he's worth giving a second chance, then why not? And if he turns out to be a total dud again, then at least you can say you gave it a shot. But only if you're really sure he's worth your time though. Don't waste it on some loser who doesn't appreciate everything you have to offer."

He advised you, trying to strike a balance between being supportive and challenging you to take risks when it came to relationships. "But whatever you decide, don't let me pressure you into doing something you don't want to do. You've gotta follow your heart, doll."

"You know, Stevie doesn't care this much about who I date, and he's my older brother." You tease Bucky while glancing at Steve.

Bucky snorts in amusement, "Yeah well, I'm not your brother, sweetheart, but I'm your friend and your wingman, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna sit back and watch you throw away a potential chance to be happy. Now come on, make up your mind already. Are you gonna give the guy another chance or not?" He pressed, playfully but determinedly.

You look at his face for a moment before looking away again and sighing. "I'm not." You say quietly but firmly. "I'm not going on a second date with that guy." You clarify.

Bucky felt his jaw tighten a little as he realized that you had completely ignored his previous suggestion and were instead deciding against giving the guy a second chance.

He didn't like the idea of you potentially missing out on something good due to your own stubbornness, but he also knew that he couldn't force you to do anything you didn't truly want to do.

"Well, fuck. Guess that settles that then," He said after a moment of silence, trying to hide his disappointment but failing miserably. "You're really gonna just throw that opportunity away? Fine, suit yourself, I guess. But don't expect me to hold your hand or anything when you get sad because you're alone. You're on your own with that shit."

"I guess I am." You say quietly before getting up from the couch and going to the window, climbing into the emergency staircase to go up to the roof, like you do most nights to watch the stars.

Bucky watches you leave, feeling a mix of frustration and concern as he realizes that you're retreating to your usual spot on the roof rather than staying and talking to him.

He wants to call after you, to make sure you're okay, but he knows better than to push you if you need time alone.

Instead, he takes a deep breath and tries to focus on the present moment, reminding himself that sometimes people need space and time to themselves.

"Fine. Have it your way," he calls after you, knowing that there isn't much else he can do in this situation. "But don't think for a second that I won't be keeping an eye on you up there. You better not try anything stupid."

You roll your eyes but don't stop, going up to the roof, that's right above yours and Steve's apartment, and sitting on the picnic blanket you and Steve use every night.

After a few minutes someone else comes to the roof and you can tell it's Steve by the light steps. "You sure you want to let Bucky alone in our apartment, Stevie? I'm afraid he might burn it down." You joke weakly without turning around to look at him, your eyes locked in the city's skyline.

Steve chuckles and you can feel him sitting down next to you. It's not the first time you sit together on the roof, everybody in your apartment building knows this is the Rogers siblings' spot.

You don't say anything and neither does Steve, and you're especially glad he doesn't say anything when he sees a tear falling down your cheek but simply wraps his arm around you as you lay your head on his shoulder.

"What's going on in your head, little sis?" Steve asks you after you stop crying.

You try to gather your thoughts, trying to find a way to make sense of everything swirling in your head. You take a deep breath before you pull away slightly and turn your head towards the city again. "What should I say?" You ask quietly.

"When?" Steve asks with a frown.

"When I love someone." I clarify looking back at him.

"You should say it." He tells you firmly. It's not the first time you've talked about this, Steve knows about your feelings for Bucky and like a good big brother he always tells you to express yourself. "You should tell him."

You sigh and look away from him and back to the New York skyline. "I don't know, Stevie..."

"Why not, Bambi?" You smile softly at his use of your childhood nickname because Bambi is your favorite book, but then you shake your head.

"Have you seen the way he looks at Dot? I have no chance with him. I'm not his type." You say with conviction.

"You really don't see it?" Steve ask, getting a little frustrated.

"See what?" You ask confusedly while looking back at him.

"The difference between you and her is that he looks at her like she's the prettiest girl in the world," Steve says and your heart sinks so you look away from him, but he still goes on. "but when he looks at you it's like... It's like maybe you're magic. He looks at you with such reverence and respect. He looks at you like if he could just have you in his arms, everything would be okay. Like if he had you, nothing could touch him. He looks at you like he just realized what love is."

Steve pauses and grabs your chin gently to make you look at him before finishing. "He loves you. Anyone can see that. You're just too blind to notice it."

Steve kisses your forehead and then gets up and goes back inside to the apartment, leaving you to think about everything he said.

You lay down on the picnic towel on the ground of the roof and look up at the stars. Could Steve be right? Does Bucky really love you back but you just haven't noticed?

If Bucky had feelings for you, certainly you would've noticed.

Yes, he's protective of you and he's always happy to have you around, but you've been friends for over a decade and he is your brother's best friend, so he probably sees you as just that. His best friend's sister.

But he never did treat you like Steve's annoying little sister.

Even when you were kids he always tried to include you in their games and literally held your hand whenever the three of you went somewhere, like the park a few blocks over.

He would always coo on you when you got any scrapes while playing and kiss your boo-boos away.

He's always been very sweet to you and he stood up for you as much as he did for Steve whenever someone bothered you.

But could that really be actual love? Or is it just affection for a girl he's known since you were little and sees as his own little sister?

You rub your eyes before putting your hands behind your head, getting comfortable while looking at the sky full of stars.

In the meantime, Bucky heard everything from the window of your apartment.

He couldn't deny the truth of what Steve had said, he did look at you with a sense of reverence and respect, like you held the key to unlocking his heart and making everything else in his life fall into place.

But he also knew that he had to tread carefully, to approach you in the right way or risk scaring you off completely.

As much as he wanted to take control of the situation and make things happen on his terms, he knew that he needed to let you come to him, to give you space to process everything that Steve told you and to allow you time to realize how much you actually mean to him.

As Steve climbs back into the window, he gives Bucky a pointed look and a pat in the back, silently encouraging him to talk to you.

Bucky takes a deep breath and then climbs into the stairs, getting to the roof but not getting any closer to you. He's determined to talk to you, but his nerves are getting the best of him.

You can hear Bucky coming to the roof and when he doesn't move closer you frown slightly but think he's just giving you a moment before sitting next to you.

When he stays put for a couple of minutes, you roll your eyes and with a small smile you say "You can come lay down next to me, if you want." Loudly enough for him to hear, your eyes never leaving the stars above you.

Bucky's heart skips a beat as he hears your invitation, and without hesitation he steps forward and drops down onto the towel beside you.

You can tell he's trying to keep his movements quiet, not wanting to startle you or disturb your peaceful contemplation.

He lays there quietly for a few moments, taking in the sight of you lying there so effortlessly beautiful, before finally speaking.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to hear those words coming from your mouth," he whispers and moves closer to you, placing one arm around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, feeling incredibly vulnerable by the fact that you were so physically close and you were allowing him to get even closer.

"Thanks for letting me do this," he added, indicating the embrace.

"It's not the first time we've watched the stars together, Buck..." You whisper back, resting your head on his while willing your heart to stop beating so fast.

Bucky smiles softly, feeling a warm sense of contentment wash over him as he wraps his arms around you, feeling incredibly grateful for this moment of intimacy between the two of you.

He can feel the gentle weight of your body against his, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. He listens to the sound of your breathing, feeling his heartbeat slow down as he takes comfort in your presence.

"Yeah, it's not the first time... But it feels different tonight." He whispers back, feeling a newfound confidence and boldness coursing through his veins.

He moves even closer to you, pressing his face against your neck and inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of your skin. "I've always... I've always wanted to hold you like this."

"I... I always wanted you to..." You whisper back hesitantly and bite your lip when he presses his face against your neck, almost scared to move, worried that if you do it'll ruin the moment.

Bucky feels a surge of pleasure course through his body as he hears your response, knowing that you too cherished these special moments with him.

When you don't say anything at his physical contact he continues to hold you tightly, feeling a deep sense of connection growing between you.

He presses his lips against your neck, gently kissing and nibbling on your skin, feeling a newfound desire burning within him that he had never experienced before.

He wants more than anything to take things further, to remove your clothing and explore every inch of your body with his hands and mouth, but he forces himself to remain patient and wait for your signal that you actually want something more intimate.

"You know... I've always been afraid to show you how much I really care about you," he whispers into your ear, his voice barely audible over the sound of the city below them.

"Steve thinks you love me..." You say quietly, hoping to god that your idiot brother is right for once in his life.

Bucky freezes a little, feeling a mixture of relief and surprise wash over him. He's surprised at your boldness but so relieved that the truth is finally out there.

But he also knows you well enough to know that if he wants you to truly believe that he loves you, then he has to act quickly to prove it to you and make sure that you never doubt his feelings again.

"Yeah... I do love you, Doll. More than anything else in this world. And I'm sorry that I didn't say it sooner... But I was afraid to lose you." He admits quietly, as he takes your face in his hands.

"You really mean that?" You ask quietly, a mix of hope and uncertainty clear in your voice.

"I do." He says without hesitation while he looks at your beautiful face turned towards his. "And I want to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much I care about you."

The smile that comes to your face is so bright that it feels to Bucky like the sun suddenly came up in the middle of the night.

"I know you already gave me a birthday gift," He says, referring to the jacket you gave him this morning. "But can I ask you for one more?"

You're definitely curious about what he wants so you nod. "Sure, what is it?"

"Can you give me a birthday kiss?" He asks quietly while brushing a strand of hair aways from your face and behind your ear.

You blush a little and can't help but smile because he wants a birthday kiss from you, not Dot or any other girl, and you nod slowly as you start leaning in.

Bucky meets you halfway and when your lips touch it feels like fireworks, your stomach filling with butterflies while he brings you closer to him while deepening the kiss.

After a few minutes you both pull away for air, breathing heavily while looking at each other. "Wow." Is all he says after a moment.

You giggle and bite your lip. "Happy birthday, Bucky." You say softly and give him a kiss on the cheek before settling back against him, your head on his chest as you look up at the stars.

Bucky wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head and then relaxes while looking up too, more content than ever to finally have you in his arms.

[angstysebfan]

Just Friends - Part 2

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: What happens in the aftermath of part 1, and will Bucky be able to fix this? Warnings: Angst, talks of manipulation, Bucky is a bit of an asshole, cursing

A/N: Hope you like Part 2 as much as Part 1! None of my stories or edited or beta’d so sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes. If you want to be a part of my permanent taglist, please request letting me know that you want to be on the permanent one.

Part 1 here

You stay in your room for the rest of the day, not wanting to see or talk to anyone, especially Bucky. You just can’t understand how the hell this all happened. Two days ago, you were taking a nap together in each others arms, and now he doesn’t even want to be friends with you. Your heart is beyond broken, and the love you feel towards him makes you sad. You didn’t just love him as a friend, you were in love with him, and now you feel stupid. You know who is responsible, besides Bucky being a complete moron, Dot. That bitch has it coming to her.

You hear a knock on your door, and a part of you hopes it’s Bucky saying he made a mistake, but when you open the door you see Steve. The smile he was wearing falls when he sees your tear stained face.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks.

You nod, not wanting to talk about it, especially with Bucky’s now one and only best friend. Steve just looks at you, not believing you.

“Okay… well we have a mission, you free to leave tonight?” he asks.

“Yeah, absolutely. What time?” You can’t help the relieved feeling that you will get away.

“Need you ready to go with Nat in an hour” Steve says in his ‘Cap’ voice.

You salute him and close the door, to start prepping your departure. This mission could not come at a better time. You hope that some time away will help Bucky come to his senses, or maybe help you realize that you are better off without him.

–

You've been gone for two weeks and are dead exhausted when you and Nat exit the quinjet back into the compound. It was a brutal mission, and you probably have a few bruised ribs with a of bruises and scratches around your body. But despite it being brutal, it was a success. You and Nat go your separate ways to your rooms, knowing you will be up early tomorrow for a debrief. As you enter the hallway where your room is, you hear moans and groans coming from Bucky’s room. You curse yourself knowing what he's doing and who he's doing it with. You hear Dot’s voice “Harder Bucky, oh god… harder”, which makes you cringe and your stomach churn.

You tried to not think about the blue eyed super soldier over the last two weeks, and while you were busy getting the crap kicked out of you that was easy, but the downtime he was the only thing on your mind. It really pissed you off, but you knew you were hoping you would come home and he would be waiting for you, begging for forgiveness. Guess not. Dot really has her hooks in him, and if they are still together, than you know he did not tell her that he is going to stay friends with you. So it's officially over between you, and that thought is devastating. 

You go to your room and jump in the shower to drown out the noise coming from the room next to you. When you come out, you continue to hear the moaning and know you'll never sleep with that racket. You quickly change into sweats and a t-shirt and decide to head out to the common room to sleep on the couch. It's better than the alternative. You plop on the couch and cover yourself with a blanket, turning on the TV to have some background noise. You are not there more than 2 minutes when Bucky comes out, heading toward the kitchen in nothing but a pair of sweats. You try to shrink yourself so he doesn’t see you, but with the TV on, it was only a matter of time before he turns in your direction. When he does his eyes lock with yours and he slowly walks toward you.

“Hi” he says quietly.

You sit up, “Hi” you say back.

He looks relieved almost, but you think it’s just your exhaustion, you know he doesn’t care that you’re back. The awkward silence is driving you crazy, but he finally breaks it. “Wh-when did you get back?" he asks quietly.

"About an hour ago," you respond.

"What are you doing out here?”

You can’t help but let out a breathless laugh. “Well it's kinda hard to sleep when your neighbor is fucking the lights out of their girlfriend and she's loud as hell.” You spat allowing the anger of seeing him engulf you.

Bucky's shocked by your outburst and then looks guilty, and uncomfortable. “I.. uh sorry,” he says, taking a step toward you.

“Whatever. But don't worry I'll make sure to keep my distance for you both so that I don't make her uncomfortable again,” you say with venom in your voice.

His eyebrows shoot up at that comment. He hates that he forced you to hate him, though he can't blame you. He knows he fucked up, but he doesn't know if at this point he can fix it. He just stares at you with a mix of shock and despair, which makes you annoyed so you roll your eyes.

“Look, I’m tired and achy, so I’m going to sleep out here,” you say as you gently lay down and turn away from him.

All Bucky wants to do is kneel next to you and apologize for making you feel like this. He misses you, but with Dot in his room, he knows he can't. He hates that he put himself, and you, in this position. He just knows Dot is his only shot, so he wants... no needs to make it work with her. He looks at you one more time, sadness evident in his face, and walks back to his room.

–

The next morning you're in the kitchen, sitting between Steve and Sam, when Bucky walks in with Dot. Dot sees you and her smug smirk immediately goes right on her face.

“Baby, make me pancakes?” she says to Bucky in her squeaky baby voice.

You scoff loudly, and look at Sam, whose shaking his head and giving you a look that tells you he doesn’t like her either.

Bucky heard your scoff and looks at you, but your eyes were on Sam. If you want act like this, then he's game. He looked back at Dot and smiles.

“Of course, my Bella,” he says, looking back at you.

Your eyes shot to his when you heard the pet name he called her. That was your pet name, and you know he did that on purpose. You didn't think he would stoop so low, and honestly he didn't either. You can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes, which only makes Bucky regret what he did more. He opens his mouth to immediately apologize, but you quickly get up, ignoring the pain in your ribs, and leave the room.

Steve looks at Bucky in disappointment, and Sam looks like he wants to punch him. Bucky feels like absolute shit and didn't think it was possible to hate himself even more. Dot, however, looks happy as anything and ignores the fact that you left.

"Bucky, pancakes please," he squeaks.

Tony then walks in and informs everyone in the kitchen that there will be a party tomorrow night because he was just in the mood, before leaving and telling the rest of the team. Dot is so excited that her plan is working and she will get to be on display with THE Bucky Barnes in front of all the rich and famous at one of Tony Stark’s parties. Man when she decided to go after Bucky to help her status, she was worried he would see through her, but she found he was very easy to manipulate. I mean she was able to get rid of you in less than a day. It won't be long before she will have status enough to leave Bucky behind and move on to the next big name.

–

You didn’t want to go to the party, but Nat and Wanda made you. Even Steve and Sam told you they would protect you from Bucky and Dot, which is sweet so you agreed. Nat and Wanda helped you get dressed, as your ribs were still sore from the mission, and did your hair and make up. The three of you walk into the party, and head straight to Steve and Sam at the bar.

“Y/N, you look beautiful,” Steve said, causing you to blush.

“Thanks Stevie, you look great too.”

He smiles and hands you your favorite drink. “Listen, I know you and Bucky are having a hard time right now, and I know he is normally your partner at these things, but I thought I could be a good stand in and be your date for tonight. As friends of course,” he said a blush coming over his cheeks.

You smile and kiss him on the cheek, “I would love that Cap.”

You and Steve mostly stay with the group, chatting about this, that, and nothing, but all laughing and having a great time. Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, being dragged from person to person was Bucky. Dot was making sure everyone in the room saw her with him. It really was really annoying him, because felt like a prized horse with Dot. He started to question her motives for being with him He never liked parties parties, only liked to be with… you. You made them bearable. He couldn’t help looking over and notice how beautiful you looked. He saw you and your friends laughing and having a great time, and wanted nothing more but to stand there with you. He felt like he couldn't breath anymore with you gone from his life, and he hated himself for what he did to you.

The truth is, he missed you beyond words. He knew he made a mistake, ending your friendship, and tonight is only showing him more and more what an asshole he was. Question was could he fix it, or was it too late. Dot noticed where Bucky was staring and rolled her eyes seeing you and the rest of the group. She decided to continue to torture you so she took Bucky's hand leading him over to the group. She cleared her throat as she got closer, causing the laughter going on the stop. Everyone looked at her, with her smug face. She wrapped Bucky’s arms around her and held him to her.

“What’s so funny over here? Don’t you know this is a party and you are the Avengers? You should be mingling! Bucky and I have been a hit so far, so you guys should join in the fun!” she said. 

You quickly down your drink and look at Steve. 

“Stevie, want to dance?” you say, completely ignoring Dot. He nodded at you and took your hand, leading you out to the dance floor. Bucky looked between you and Steve and couldn’t help the jealousy he felt. Are you and Steve becoming a thing now? Has he pushed you to the point that you will take Steve away from him? He needs to get a closer look. He bent down to Dot, “Let’s dance,” he whispered, dragging her with him.

Steve held you in his arms as you moved to the slow ballad playing. You look over your shoulder to see Bucky and Dot also dancing close to you, Bucky frequently looking over and you and Steve. You rolled your eyes.

“Ignore them, Y/N.” Steve said quietly.

You blush, and look at Steve. “I’m sorry, I just hate her, and he... ” your words get caught in your throat.

“Yeah, she isn’t well liked by any of us, and I don't know what the hell he''s doing. I'm sure he will come around and regret what he's done to you. I'm pretty sure he has feelings for you, but feels like you wont reciprocate,” he said.

Tears start falling down your face. “I’m sorry Steve, but I think I need some air,” you say quickly.

Steve nodded and let you go, feeling bad that he made you cry. You quickly walk past Bucky and out of the ballroom to the balcony. Bucky watches you and saw that you were emotional. He wanted to follow but knew Dot wouldn't let him. He excused himself and went to talk to Steve about what happened. Dot was not happy and stomped off the dance floor like a child.

Meanwhile, you try and contain your emotions and took deep breaths, looking out over the compound property. You really wish you stuck to your guns and didn’t come tonight. You hated seeing them together, especially her. You wish you knew why he took her side, especially after what Steve just said. Is there a chance he did have similar feelings to you? At this point is it even worth caring, because he broke your heart, and you have no idea if you can trust him again.

“Ya know, for an Avenger, you’re a pretty easy opponent to beat,” you hear Dot’s voice from behind you.

You immediately tense up, but refuse to turn and look at her. She laughs, “I mean I thought you would have put up a little bit more of a fight when I made him dump your pathetic ass, but I guess you are just... too weak,” she taunts.

Now you turned and looked at her, rage pouring through your veins.

“Excuse me?” was all you could say.

Dot continues to walk toward you with her smug smile. “I mean, I saw how much you were in love with him when we first met. I knew I had to get rid of you in order for my plan to work. He spoke of nothing but you for the weeks we were talking to each other, so I knew you were trouble. I thought you would have fought for him, but obviously you know a lost cause when you see one.”

She laughs again, while you are shaking in anger. “What plan did you have exactly?" you ask angrily.

"Oh you know, having Bucky, a infamous Avenger by my side to be seen, go to Tony Stark parties and meet the rich and famous, and when I finally find a richer more impressive man, leave Bucky for him. It's a win win... for me. Bucky was so easy to manipulate too. I made him think he had a chance at forever with me, which no man does without the wad of cash to go with it. But I knew I could get him to do anything for me. I mean when he came to my house that night I met you, all I had to do was I tell him how uncomfortable you made me. How I didn’t like how close you guys were, and he bought it. Hook. Line. Sinker,” She says with a proud smile on her face.

“Now I'm on step two... be at Tony Stark parties with THE Bucky Barnes, rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, making contacts, and setting myself up for success. Meanwhile you get to sulk about the man who didn’t choose you.”

Just as you were about to open your mouth, you hear, “What… the… fuck!”

You and Dot turn your heads to Bucky, who was standing at the door, glaring at Dot. Dot lost her smug smile, and looked panicked. 

“Bucky… h-h-how long were you standing there?” she asks, fear evident in her voice.

Bucky walks up and stands next to you, glaring down at the red head. “Long enough to know you are a manipulative bitch, who's only using me, and coerced me into losing the woman I'm crazy about,” he growls as you gasp at his words.

You see him trying to control his emotions. You wonder if you should calm him down, but decide against it. You slowly step away from them, and start heading toward the door. You turn around to see Bucky still glaring at Dot, but can't handle anymore excitement tonight. You walk back through the ballroom and head straight to the elevators. You make it back to your room, and decide you needed a nice long hot shower to wash this whole evening away and think about what you just heard Bucky say and what it all meant.

As you stand under the hot water you think about the last 2+ weeks. Hearing Bucky's declaration about you, finding out he has a girlfriend, losing him, the mission, coming back to Bucky still being with that bitch, Bucky calling her "my Bella", and then this whole fucked up evening ending with Bucky basically stating he wanted you too. how are you supposed to wrap your head around any of this. After spending probably close to 30 minutes in the shower, you change into sweats and a t-shirt and walk back into your room. You stop short when you see Bucky sitting on your bed, his head in his hands. He looks up at you, tears running down his face. You swallow the lump in your throat, but don’t move.

“I… I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. I know it’s not enough, because what I did was the worst thing I could do, but I'm really fucking sorry,” He whispers through his tears.

You want to go over and hug him, but you're too hurt, so you just nod. Bucky shakes his head, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, he stands up and walks toward you. You tense up, but remain where you are.

“Y/N, ending our friendship was the worst thing I've ever done in my life. You're my best girl, and I should've stuck by you, and defended you. I would give you an excuse, not that there really is one, but you probably wouldn’t believe me anyway,” he says.

When you don’t respond, he turns toward the door. As he is about to grab the handle, he hears, “Try me.”

He turns around and looks at you. He turns back toward you and sits back down on the bed. He motions for you to come and sit, which you do, but you make sure there is plenty of space between you. He swallows the lump in his throat. 

“I… uh… I never thought anyone would ever love me. Not even in a friendship way, besides Steve. When you became my friend, I felt so lucky, and I wanted to hold on to that feeling forever. You became the most important person in my life. I… I fell in love with you.”

You can’t help but gape at him. He loves you?! What the fuck! He loves you but then why all this? You go to say something, but he quickly continues.

“I know you couldn't feel the same way, which is why I tried to find someone to take that place. I met Dot, and she was nice and flirty, and made me feel normal. I thought she actually liked me, but apparently I was just a pawn in her scheme to become rich and famous,” He scoffs at himself, shaking his head.

He looks at you again. “She manipulated the shit out of me, which hurts more than I can say, but not as much as seeing the pain you had for these last few weeks. It’s really no excuse, but it's the truth. She told me that she was falling for me, and I was just so blindly happy to find someone else to fill the hole I had. The hole that was really made for you. She told me to do something and I did it because I wanted to keep her happy. I just wish I had snapped out of it when she told me to end my friendship with you."

You stay silent wanting to hear every word.

"When I did, and you ran off, I knew it wasn’t right. I actually went up to your room after my work out to apologize, but you had already left for the mission. I thought maybe it was for the best. Dot and I continued to get closer, which I thought was good, but it was all a lie,” he growled. “When you came home and I saw that you were alive, I was so relieved. I was so worried about you while you were away, but you were so cold to me. I know I deserved it, but I never thought I would see that. So, I got angry and thats why I called her ‘my bella’. I knew that would cause a reaction, but when I saw your face, I immediately regretted it. I never called Dot that name besides that time. Not that it makes it better," he says.

“Tonight, when I saw you laughing with our friends, I wanted to be by your side, with my hand around your waist like all the other parties. I wanted to dance with you, and when I saw you and Steve, I got…. jealous. I… I’m an asshole. I don’t deserve your forgiveness or your friendship. I’m sorry.”

Before you could answer, he left the room, leaving your door open. You sat there for a moment thinking about everything he said. The one thing that stands out is that he loved you, but didn’t realize you loved him too. But you didn’t know if you should just forgive him, when he hurt you so bad.

You suddenly found yourself outside his door. You knocked, listening for his footsteps. When you didn’t hear them, you tried his door, which was unlocked. You peeked your head inside and saw Bucky laying on his stomach, his face in his pillow, quietly crying. Your heart broke, as you quietly entered his room and closed his door. You went to the other side of the bed, and laid next to him, staring at the ceiling. 

“I can’t just forgive you for the pain you caused me, Bucky. You broke my heart more than once in the last few weeks, and I didn’t even understand why. I thought we were stronger than that, but I guess I was wrong.”

You sigh and look at Bucky, who has his face turned towards you, tears streaming down his face. 

“But you were wrong too. I’ve been in love with you for so long, and I thought you didn’t feel the same, but I guess we are both idiots,” you say with a laugh.

You turn your body towards him. 

“I can’t forgive you…” Bucky closes his eyes in pain. “… at least not yet.” You say quietly. Bucky’s eyes shot open and he sits up, staring at you. “Not yet?” he asks, hopefully. You give him a small smile and nod. 

“You have a lot of making up for how you made me feel, Bucky, but I love you. I’m in love with you, and I want to spend the rest of my life in your arms. But… it’s going to take time. A lot of time fore me to trust you again,” you say, as you sit up and look at him.

He moves closer to you. “I will give you as much time as you need, as long as I know there is a chance I can be with you. I love you so much Y/N.”

You put your palm to his cheek. “I love you too.” You say before bringing him in for a small peck on his lips.

Bucky started to deepen the kiss, but you pulled away. 

“I should go,” you say, as you get off the bed and walk to the door. You turn back and look at Bucky, who looks disappointed that you are leaving. “Goodnight,” you say, before leaving the room.

–

Over the next six months Bucky worked his ass off to prove to you he was true and that he loved you. You kept him at arms length for awhile, even though it hurt you both. Then you slowly started to allow him in, but not completely. You would only hang out with him in public settings with other people around, much to Bucky's dismay. After a few months, you both started to slowly go back to being friends, and then best friends again. Neither of you ever wanting to bring up Dot again, who disappeared thank god.

Today, you're sitting in the common room, flipping through possible things to watch on Netflix. “Ugh, there is nothing new that I want to watch!” you yell.

You hear a deep chuckle from the kitchen, before Bucky walks into the common room with a big bowl of popcorn. 

“Just pick something, it doesn’t have to be new, Bells,” he says, as he sits next you and wraps his metal arm around you.

You settle on “Stranger Things”, and snuggle into Bucky. After 2 episodes, you look up and notice Bucky is staring at you.

“What?” you ask.

He smiles at you, “I was just thinking… I don’t know if you would want to, or if you just want to keep things as they are… but… um… w-would you want to go out on a date with me?” he asks.

You sit up and look at him. He looks so adorably nervous, that you can’t help but smile. 

“Absolutely. I think you've been patient with my punishment, and honestly, I've been waiting for you to get the guts to ask me out. But on one condition,” you say.

Bucky nods, “Name it, my Bella.”

You smile, "We continue to go at my pace. No rushing into things just because we know our feelings. I need to know you are willing to continue being patient. And also... we never go to that pizza place again, and you better drive me home after every date," you say with a fake glare.

Bucky laughs, "Belle, you will never have to walk home alone again, and yes I accept going slow. I know I still have a lot to make up for, but I'm glad you are giving me another chance."

"Yeah, I know, but we'll get there eventually," you say with a smile before you both hug.

It took awhile before you let him kiss you again, and even longer before you slept together. Bucky took everything in stride and you both eventually enjoyed a long lasting loving relationship.

--

Some people might not like that we forgave him, but in my head he went through the punishment to deserve the forgiveness. Feedback is appreciated!

Permanent Taglist: @rebekahdawkins @marajade1974 @missvelvetsstuff @phillygirl77 @pattiemac1 @winterslove1917 @vampire7595

@lokidokieokie @cjand10 @angiestopit @learisa @hordeytardispotterbarnes @ilovemurdockandbarnes

[marvelstoriesepic]

Angstober (day 17)

Pairing: Endgame!Bucky x Reader

Prompt: “Shhh…”

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: allusions to deep depression; very slight mention of suicidal thoughts; mentions of an eating disorder (neglecting food due to mental health problems); sad!Reader; sad and desperate!Bucky

Author's note: I'm so late, so sorry!! Actually planned on ending this way more angsty but I just couldn’t. Hope you still like it!

Angstober Masterlist

Not that you’re counting, but it has been 14 nights now. Two weeks. Nearly 340 hours since Bucky returned. He came back, along with everyone else who had vanished for five long years. But nothing else seemed nearly as significant as the feeling of seeing him again - the man you loved before the blip, during the blip, and thereafter.

Obviously, this was supposed to be a moment of pure, unadulterated joy. And it was for a moment. But you never felt the weight fall off you, that great release where all your problems just go away and nothing is left but love, relief, lightness - the kind of peace you can finally sink into.

But peace is far from what you feel.

You carry something in your gut; a stone lodged deep, heavy, and smooth to the touch but sharp on impact, that pushes your insides down and twists the knots in your belly into nausea. It’s guilt. So thick and visceral, it hurts, your body trying to reject it, to shake it, but you can’t breathe it away.

Because it’s also the 14th night of you leaving the warm and cozy embrace of two arms - one flesh, one metal - and the feeling of a chest pressed against your body just to sit out on the balcony, the exact same you spent ceaseless and lonely nights on when the world had emptied itself of Bucky Barnes.

Back when this place was only yours for the better part of the blip. With an old armchair placed to overlook the stars and form changing moon blinking at you from the blackness overhead. As if each of those tiny bright dots stood for something specific.

Bucky is asleep inside the bedroom, you’re supposed to be in right now. Wrapped safely in his arms, surrounded by the comfort of having him back. But the truth is, this comfort you should feel suffocates you.

You’re frozen. Stuck between two worlds. The one where you lost him, where you had to endure five long years without him, and the one where he returned as though no time had passed at all.

Five years living without him just for him to return to earth within the blink of an eye as if it was nothing. As if the time spent alone wasn’t agony in the worst sense of the word. As if your suffering didn’t even happen and everything just went back to normal in seconds.

You don’t know how to react. You don’t know how to be normal again. How can you just slip back into a love that feels like it was frozen in time for him but battered and painful for you?

It hasn’t been easy for anyone, you’re aware of that. Disappearing or not. Suddenly re-entering a world that had moved on without you, a world you never knew you even left, is a scary thought. But, honestly, it’s so much worse for Bucky. Your stomach, again, churns in pain.

Bucky has already lost so much of his life, trapped in decades he was never meant to live, a ghost haunting the wrong era. The world keeps slipping through his fingers, time moving around him while he’s frozen in place. Literally even. And now there goes another five years.

But you just can’t turn your head off. And you hate yourself for it.

The truth is, you’re not the same person you were when you met Bucky, started dating him - the one he fell in love with. A bright spirit, an effervescent soul, full of light, energy, softness, with a laugh that was infectious. That version of you is gone, taken by the same breeze that took Bucky years ago. What’s left was a hollow shell, lost in the grief of your greatest love story.

Time wore you down, erode pieces of you that you didn’t even realize were fading away until there was hardly anything left. Just bare bones of who you once were - a thin foundation, fragile, with crumbs already falling to your darkest depths, ready to be swept away for good.

How can you possibly go back to the person Bucky expects you to be? How can you pretend to be the version of yourself he fell in love with when it doesn’t exist anymore? When what’s left of her is irredeemable, too far gone to be resurrected?

You’re certain you’ll only end up disappointing him. If you haven’t already.

Fourteen nights you’ve been out here, on this balcony, sitting in that chair, wrapped in the dark, keeping yourself apart from him when you know you should be beside him. When all you ever wanted was to be beside him again.

Thirteen of those nights, Bucky has noticed your absence. The first night he found you out here, sitting in silence, you nearly snapped at him, frustration and confusion at the way you feel bubbling up so fiercely, you didn’t know how to contain it.

You told him to leave you alone. Insisted on it for so long until he finally, reluctantly relented, slowly retreating back inside with a tremble in his breath and clenched fingers. You knew he would respect your request. You also found out that he didn’t sleep a wink that night, since you didn’t come back to bed, wearing circles under his eyes that matched yours as he made you some breakfast in the morning you barely ended up stomaching.

Since then, you haven’t asked him to leave. Though you don’t really engage him in conversation either, only letting him linger. His presence is gentle, never pressing, always so patient, but it doesn’t make it easier. If only, it worsens the guilt, its fingers tightening around your chest, digging into your skin painfully. You don’t know how to let him back in, not when you’re still so tangled up in the person you’ve become - someone so worn-down, you don’t recognize yourself anymore, afraid to be confronted with the harrowing reality by looking in a mirror.

And every night, you wonder, silently asking the night sky, how much longer it’ll be before he realizes that the person he loves is someone he lost.

You’re waiting. Waiting for him to notice that this new version of you isn’t enough.

Every time, Bucky comes out to you, bringing you something - blankets, jackets, his hoodies, a cup of tea still steaming in his hands, or thick socks to warm your feet. He gets you all the things you never thought to grab in your rush to escape to the balcony, to get lost in the night air that bites into your skin but usually feels oddly comforting in its coldness. The chill always manages to give you a small sting of reality.

You never make the first move to wrap the blankets around yourself or pull any of the clothing items on, so Bucky usually does it for you. And he’s nothing but kind. Patient and soft in ways that almost hurt to witness. It’s in his eyes, in the way he watches you, never pushing too hard, never demanding more than you can give.

But his worry is etched into every corner of him like he is carrying it in his very bones. It’s heavy on his brows, weighing them down in a furrow that never seems to ease, lips pressed into a slight frown that tugs at the corners even when he tries to soothe it out.

It’s in the way his hands twitch, as if he’s fighting the urge to reach out and pull you close, but stops himself because he’s unsure if you want him to. He’s constantly walking that fine line, balancing between the space you seem to want and the need to be there, to comfort you, troubled with his own helplessness.

It’s in every considerate gesture, every thoughtful thing he does to make sure you’re okay, or at least giving you a sense of solace.

And yet, you can’t bring yourself to really talk to him. To explain what’s going on in your mind. To voice the fear that now lives there and which places it travels and where it settles down, lodging itself deep into your conscience, roots spreading and festering.

There’s no way to explain what drives you out here night after night, sitting in the darkness while your returned love waits for you inside.

It’s not that you don’t want to. God, you want to more than anything. But the words just won’t come, not making it past the lump in your throat. You’re trapped in a loop of thoughts; confusion, and guilt guiding them to twirl in your head like an indecipherable storm.

How do you even begin to explain that the person he’s so worried about isn’t really there anymore; that you’re afraid you’ve changed too much; that you’re not sure how to go back to the way things were, or if you even can? So while you remain silent, your mind races and your heart aches with the weight of everything you can’t say.

There are so many ghosts in his life and you don’t want to count yourself as another. But you don’t have it in you to do something about it.

As expected, the door to the balcony opens, quietly, slowly. It gets shorter, you notice. The time it takes him to realize you’re gone. As if he instinctively wakes up the second you leave his embrace. As if he barely has to stir to know you’re missing, to feel the cold, empty space where your warmth should be.

You wish he had given you just a little more time. Woke up just a little later. Nausea pools in your gut.

“Sweetheart.”

You pick up his whisper. You intended to ignore it, just as you had intended to ignore the quiet shuffle of his steps, the way he appeared in your peripherals like he always does. But the way his voice reflects so much of a fragility you can’t and don’t want to describe, your head lifts almost on autopilot, responding to him before your mind can even catch up.

He’s crouching down to your level in front of the chair you’re perched on, carefully lowering himself to your eye level. You hadn’t even acknowledged the bowl of pasta he brought until he set it down on the small table next to you, food you hadn’t even glanced at all day. As well as the blanket draped over his forearm he now deliberately wraps you up in. His hands linger on your arms longer than needed until he almost reluctantly pulls away.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you. Not for a second. Gaze so intense and solid, it undoes you. They’re filled with everything you try to run from, everything you try to bury deep inside yourself, everything you try to hide from.

You avert your eyes at the new wave of pain that tears right through your chest, intended to knock you off that chair, perhaps even off that balcony. Your silence is wearing on him and you know. You know that his brows are creased in worry, that his hands are trembling as they grab onto his knees to prevent himself from reaching out to you because he thinks that’s not what you want. That his touch is unwanted. His lips are pressed together as if holding back the flood of words he’s too afraid to say out loud.

Still, you don’t open your mouth. You don’t move closer to him to feel some of his warmth. You don’t look at him. All you do is let him down, night after night, as he watches you drift further away.

From yourself.

From him.

“Please eat something, love.”

His pleading voice again reaches you with the force of a knife, thrown straight to your heart, tearing through the blanket, your thin clothes, your skin, to embed itself into the organ that once held something so precious. A love so fierce, not only for the man in front of you but for the woman he fell for. For the woman that’s now lost in a body filled with coldness.

“Not hungry.” The words fall flat from your lips, monotone, your voice as hollow as you feel inside. There’s no weight behind them, no energy. They’re the same words you’ve been giving him all day, all week - really, for two weeks straight.

Actually, you haven’t been hungry in what feels like forever. The idea of eating, of caring for your body, feels so distant, so unimportant, perhaps even ludicrous, that you’ve stopped thinking about it entirely. Your stomach knots itself in protest but the thought of offering sustenance to your weary body pales in significance amidst whatever storm is brewing inside your mind.

Bucky never relents. Never gives up. Never stops trying.

But it’s heavy on him.

The pained sigh that ripples through his body, drags his shoulders down, his entire frame. His desperation is so evident, it’s standing out like a light that wants the attention of the darkness around you. His pain almost echoes like a sound, ringing in your ears.

He bows his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

Another stab. Another twist of the knife, that never really leaves your body anymore. It’s always sharp. Always intense. Always piercing. Because it never ceases to hurt when Bucky is in pain.

And he’s in pain because of you.

It’s always because of you.

His despair now is an extension of the love that triumphed against odds, yet now feels so misplaced, so undeserving in the wreckage that was left behind.

Every line of his body screams misery and it’s so unlike Bucky to carry it so openly. He’s not able to stop his hands from shaking, even though he’s clenching them into fists that leave his skin white. He’s not able to ease the tension in his jaw, the way his breath catches as though he’s holding back more words, more pleas, more desperation.

You know it’s your fault. You know this is a love he still holds for a person that doesn’t deserve it anymore. He holds on so tight. So fierce. And that’s what hurts the most.

A new sensation wells up, one you had consciously buried for the past 14 nights. One you hadn’t let yourself feel every time you got lost out here. It grips your throat, wraps itself around it, and squeezes, cutting off the flow of air. It’s choking you, as if in triumph, confronting the tidal surges of emotion you’ve been holding back for so long. It stings behind your eyes, making them swell and burn as tears form faster than you can stop them.

The sob that forms in your belly takes shape in a revolting way and you can’t grasp it properly.

So, when it finally escapes, it’s heart-wrenching. The sound rips from your chest violently and guttural, tearing through your lips before you can do anything to keep it inside. Your hand flies to your mouth, desperate to stifle it, but it’s useless.

Bucky’s head snaps up with so much vigor, and he stumbles in his rush to reach you, arms shooting up, eyes wide with alarm. His hands move toward you without hesitation, disregarding the fragile boundaries you had set, the cautious distance he believed you’d wanted.

You’re shaking, shoulders trembling with the power of the cries that rack through your body and he pulls you against him.

He cradles your head against his chest, his other arm pulling you closer, closer, closer. His grip is so full of anguish, holding onto you like his very life depends on it, his warmth fighting against the chill that’s been living inside you for such a long time.

Your sobs come harder, sounds muffled by the fabric of his hoodie. Bucky tries to hold you tighter, letting you crumble against him.

Minutes stretch out and your cries don’t let up. Each breath you take is painful, rough, and with every shudder that convulses your body, Bucky grasps you firmer.

“Shhh… it’s okay, baby, I got you.” His voice sounds so soft but frail, hoarse with the effort of keeping himself composed. He keeps whispering, though his words tremble on his lips as if he’s battling the same ache that’s threatening to break him apart all the same. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you can feel his breath against your skin, shaky and uneven, trying so hard to be the anchor you need.

“Shhh…” he breathes again, but there are tears in his tone. He’s holding on so solidly, gripping you as if letting go would mean losing you entirely.

“I’m sorry,” you cry, the words tumbling out over and over because it’s all your scrambled mind manages. It’s the only thing that feels true in the mess of your awareness. The silence, the distance, the weight you’ve placed on him, on his shoulders, which should be free from burden after the hell he’s been through. He’s only just come back from five years of being lost to the world, and now you’re drowning him in your own grief. And that makes your tears come without control, the guilt crushing.

“I’m so sorry,” you sob again, the only thing you can offer. An apology isn’t enough but it’s all you have. Because you don’t know if you’re supposed to hold onto the hope that maybe, one day, he’ll forgive you for being too much, for not being who he needs anymore.

Bucky shakes his head against yours, strong, fast; his breath broken. “No,” he breathes, rough and thick. “No, baby, don’t apologize. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to drown out his voice. He’s too nice. Too sweet. Too forgiving. Too patient. Too Bucky.

Shaking your head, you grip onto him. “You should leave me.” It’s louder than anything you’ve said the whole night. It’s more resolute. It sounds more like you, but it still doesn’t seem to come from you. Because never in seven years did you believe those words would ever make it past your lips. Would ever even be formed in your mind.

Bucky pulls back. Not harshly, but urgently, in a panic, determined. His hands cradle your face and he only moves his head away a little to get a better look at you. His eyes, wet and glassy, lock onto yours, filled with pain so stabbing it matches your own. But there is a resolution in his eyes, a firmness in the small glimmer of blue.

He shakes his head as if something is breaking in him.

“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that,” he whispers, his thumb brushing away the tears on your cheeks that keep rolling down even as his own spill over. His touch is so gentle, so tender, so loving and you feel the guilt that settled deep inside you in a war with the longing you had felt for so long. The longing to feel his touch in a way that always knocked the breath straight out of your lungs. The longing to have his eyes sear right through you as if you’re the only thing in the world that holds worth.

“This isn’t your fault,” he continues. “None of this is your fault, Y/n! Alright? Nothing you could do would make me leave you. Hear me when I say this, my love. Hear me when I say that I'm here. And I'll stay.”

A sad, wobbly smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “There’s no getting rid of me, sweetheart. Nothing you could do would ever scare me away.”

Something cracks open inside you. His words, his touch, his gaze, everything is so full of love. And even if it’s just a little, the compressing weight of guilt loosens. It will take many more nights for it to completely leave you but Bucky will walk this road with you. You’re sure; because in his eyes, the way he holds you against him, you finally see that he’s not asking for the person you used to be. He’s asking for you, as you are, as you’ve become, broken pieces and all.

He’s still loving you with a depth your guilt could never reach.

[navybrat817]

Where We Left Off

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You're in love with your best friend who is determined to make the most of your vacation together. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Light angst, friends reconnecting, unrequited feelings (or so you think), slight feels (it's me), future fun, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) A/N: New AU called Reconnect because why not? Meet Dreamboat and Butterfly. For @the-slumberparty 's June's Monthly Challenge : Bikini and Beach, and Smut Hub Summer Camp Bingo @sagechanoafterdark: Choose Your Vibes: Summer. Thank you @flordeamatista for the inspiration and pre-reading! ❤️ Any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was a couple of summers ago when you realized you were in love with Bucky Barnes. When you looked back on your friendship, you wondered how it took you so long to realize it. Like how his smile made your heart race whenever he looked your way. Or how you found a solid ground and safe space together, each of you able to confide in the other.

He made you feel safe.

"You're my best friend."

Nothing more.

You stared out the living room window with a sigh, the beach house blanketed by the heavy sound of rain. While it had been bright and sunny just minutes ago, the sky was now dark and misty. You shivered as you wrapped your towel tighter around your wet body, enchanted by the summer storm instead of going to your room to change. It figured you'd buy a new swimsuit for the trip and only get to wear it outside for a minute.

"So much for lounging on the beach."

You smiled softly as you glanced at Bucky beside you, who ran a hand through his long, soaked hair. He hadn't bothered to keep his towel after the two of you rushed back inside, clad in just his blue trunks that matched the shade of his eyes. You scolded yourself for letting your gaze roam along his sun kissed, muscular body.

You didn't have the right to look at him that way.

"Yeah. So much for that," you said, the towel doing little to keep you warm as the air conditioner kicked on. "Maybe our punishment for getting started without everyone?"

Steve, another one of Bucky's best friends, put together a weeklong trip for the gang. So far, you and Bucky were the only two at the beach house. Everyone else wasn't going to be there until the evening. That was why you went for an immediate swim once you picked your room. The storm would likely put the group behind even more and now you were stuck inside with Bucky.

Why had you agreed to show up early?

Why did you have to be alone with him?

Why do I have to love him?

"Maybe," he said with a stretch, drawing attention to his wide chest. "Since it doesn't look like it's slowing down at all, why don't we cuddle on the couch? Catch up a bit?"

"Cuddle?" you scoffed, the sound more bitter than you intended as you turned to face him. "Why would we do that?"

A flicker of hurt passed over his eyes before he blinked it away. "Well, for one, you're cold. I can practically hear your teeth chattering," he replied. He wasn't a fan of being cold either, but he always ran warm. "And two, cuddling never bothered you before."

Your stomach flip-flopped. Bucky was right. He was the only male friend you ever snuggled with. Whenever you had a bad day, he didn't hesitate to throw a heavy arm around you and pull you against his chest. On good days, he found an excuse to keep you plastered by his side. He used to do it so often that most people assumed you were dating.

Wishful thinking.

"I'm sorry," you said, giving him the nicest smile you could manage even though it hurt to do so. "Been awhile since it was just the two of us and even longer than that since we cuddled."

The day it clicked that you saw Bucky as more than a friend was the day he introduced you to Dolores. Everyone called her Dot. The beautiful redhead looked good on his arm and you wondered why it wasn't you in her place. But you put on a brave face and smiled, even as your heart shattered. Because Bucky's happiness meant more than your feelings.

It didn't stop you from crying alone in the darkness where no one else could see.

"That's my fault," he whispered, sliding his fingers into his hair again and tugging harshly on the strands. You noticed he did that when he was upset. "And I'm sorry."

"Friendship goes both ways," you pointed out.

"You never faded out of my life when you dated anyone."

They weren't you, Bucky.

"I guess she was different," you smiled sadly.

The two of you still hung out and messaged each other while he dated Dot, but it was always as a group and the daily messages dwindled to chats here and there. You had the feeling that Dot didn't like you very much. In a way, you didn't fault her for that. Maybe she saw through you and knew you wanted Bucky.

Yet he was the one who broke up with her.

"You're allowed to be mad at me," he said as he took your hand and crossed the room to the couch. "I'd be mad at me."

"Right now, I'm just cold," you said, not wanting to dwell on the past. What good would it do?

He nodded slowly, almost like he was disappointed in your response. "Okay."

You shrieked when he pulled the towel away. It wasn't like he hadn't seen you minutes before in your bikini and you swore his gaze lingered on you long enough to consider it staring, but what was he doing? "What the hell?" you asked, but made no move to cover yourself.

Maybe I want him to see that I'm desirable.

Bucky let out a breath as he looked at you, your shivering having nothing to do with the cold. "You said you were cold, so let me warm you up," he urged, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch before he took a seat. "Please?"

Silence fell over you as you sat down beside him. He wasted no time putting the blanket over you and wrapping his arms around your shaking frame. You breathed in his familiar scent and found yourself fighting off tears, a bittersweet swirl of longing and comfort settling in your chest.

Because he embraced you as if you meant something to him.

"I missed you," he whispered, running a hand along your back.

Your heart clenched, focusing on the rain falling outside in a melancholy rhythm. "I missed you, too."

"But we have each other again."

"I wish that were true," you whispered.

Why did I say that?

His hand stilled, but you were too afraid to look at him. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Panic bubbled in your chest. You couldn't just blurt out your feelings like this. "I just mean you went from a constant to a fleeting moment in my life," you said, which was the truth. "I don't want things to fizzle after we leave."

Bucky used to be the brightest star in your sky. Then he became the shooting star you missed making a wish upon. But you would forever watch the sky if only to get a glimpse of his bright light.

"I'll make it up to you. I have this whole week to start," he promised, rubbing his chin along the top of your head. "I don't care what Steve has planned. I'm all yours."

You squeezed your eyes shut because you knew you'd cry if you didn't. He wasn't yours. Not really.

"I'm yours, too, Bucky."

I always will be.

Surely Bucky will sweep us off our feet, right? Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[satinestales]

❝what was rule number #2 again❞ I.| bucky barnes x reader

pairing: tfatws bucky x reader summary: messing around in banner's lab, the night before your mission wasn't as good an idea as you thought, and you begin to question your actions the moment you step out of it. things worsen when you realize the super soldier serum isn't immune to an unknown contagious disease. warnings: sex pollen, no warnings this part, the II one? hahaha

a/n: I may have insulted the reader a few times in the beginning, so I apologize for that. but let's be honest, we'd do the same. I decided to split this fic into two parts because if I wrote it all into one part, it'd have 10k words. I'm not an english native speaker, so forgive me my sins and bad grammar if you find something.

m.list

You weren't stupid. But you also weren't exactly smart. If you were, you would've minded your own business, stayed in the gym, and went through the plan for tomorrow's mission. Maybe even go to bed a little sooner, to be ready for the next day's alarm. But Banner was away for a business trip, and seeing his lab silent and alone didn't exactly sing you lullabies to sleep. That's why you found yourself standing in the heart of it at 3 a.m., in your pajamas, praying everyone was asleep. It was well known around the compound that Banner's and Stark's labs were a faraway island, and anybody with a brain would circle around them. But you were an excellent swimmer and sharks didn't scare you.

10 hours later, you realised why Banner turned green every time someone even glared the glass door of his science play room. You were a fast swimmer but not exactly a bright one. The only bright thing related to you was that you were easily struck by it. And the glowing pink flowers in Doc's terrarium took you down faster than the sharks. It was bright pink with purple shadows. It reminded you of passionflower, but it was bigger. Way bigger, and you weren't sure if you were hallucinating, but the feeling of the flower's filaments moving was too strong. They were moving in waves, then circles, then each moved in its own way. It was mesmerising.

It was too late before you realized you moved the flower out of its enclosure to get a closer look at it. The smell hit you hard, filling your brain with colorful fog. You smelled a dash of cinnamon, mixed with ginger and lavender. You couldn't miss the powerful vanilla and pumpkin filling up the room. You didn't realize how bad the consequences of smelling Doc's flower would be until you came undone under your fingers nearly seven times. And it still wasn't enough. The scheduled time of your and Barnes' meeting was quickly approaching, and your skin didn't feel less on fire than it did two hours ago.

You managed to get out of the sweaty mattress and put some clothes on you, loose ones, hoping that your skin could breathe a little. You prayed some air would cool you down, clear your head, and slap some sense into you. It was now obvious why Banner was so determined not to let anyone close his lab. He was experimenting with aphrodisiacs, and you, unwillingly, became one of his lab rats. Thoughts didn't stop multiplying in your head until one landed steadily on its feet. Tony has been visiting Doc's labs the last few weeks, five minutes on the dot after curfew. You knew because you were always stationed on your balcony, which gave you a clear view of the other building, and its glass windows didn't hide much. It only became pitch black when Tony came in, and Banner didn't even flinch when he heard the door shut.

Chuckle left your lips when you connected the dots, ignoring how amusing you must look for Barnes, sitting right next to him.

"Something funny?" he asked, not dropping his gaze off of you. You were now on your way to the target's last seen place, being lucky enough to get a ride in Tony's self-driven car. You wanted to drown him in kisses because you can only imagine the suffering if you had to walk all the way from the compound to the other side of the city. Your skin was still on fire, your hair was sticking to your neck, and salty drops chased each other on your skin. You certainly were an amusing sight to Bucky. Or a terrifying one. You wished he got used to it by now. After all these years of fighting against each other, then with each other, and now forced to fight by each other's side, he saw you through worse conditions. But as far as he knew, you were locked in your room all week. You had no reason to look like you had an early meeting with the reaper.

"Just, thinking," you mumbled back at him, forcing yourself to keep your head rested against your seat, begging your body to not betray you for looking back at your partner. Your body fighting the chemicals in your body, you could only imagine how it would end if you stared at Barnes for more than five seconds. Worse, let alone if you touched him. You read about aphrodisiacs and scientists' failed attempts to know what you were going through. You were prepared to die before touching Barnes.

You were secretly jealous. It wasn't fair of you, but Barnes' serum running through his veins protected him from anything related. You almost abandoned your morals, but the pain you were going through justified it. You had no idea how you were going to focus on the mission, communicate with James, and, if it came to it, fight the target. You could only focus on the heat between your legs and how touch-starved you were. And your, undeniably, attractive coworker wasn't helping the case.

You and James had a complicated history. Both born in the 40s and dated for a while before he fell from the train. Years later, he comes to kill you for Howard's successful experiment on you. Immortality would definitely suit HYDRA and their planned assassinations. James, back then, the Winter Soldier, failed to capture you, so they decided your family's fate. And your friends. Then, years later, Howard's. You forgave him. All of it. Because you knew it wasn't him. But when he came back from Wakanda, with no traces of HYDRA in him, and didn't spare you a glance, you couldn't forgive him that. Seventy years of tolerating the actions HYDRA made him do, and he couldn't even look at you. It broke your heart but rather to act like a cunt than a weepy baby, begging for attention that will never come.

"Well then, do it fast. We're almost there." You hear his grumpy voice, making the butterflies in your stomach double their count. The decades-old memories of you together overwhelmed your brain like a tsunami. You couldn't swim out of that. The way his tongue circled your clit as you played with his hair at the theatre restroom. Or when he made you ride his face with Steve in the house. The way he pounded into you against the wall so you wouldn't forget him when he gets shipped out the next morning. And the way he had to cover your mouth that night at the bar, celebrating his unit's rescue. Now he was sitting millimetres away from you, and he wouldn't have done any of it. You still hoped, subconsciously, he'd dick you down like he did all those years ago. But that was a fantasy. Very vivid, real fantasy.

"Yes, sir," you let out, closing your eyes, tugging on your shirt so your fingers wouldn't accidentally slip in between your thighs. You didn't wanna make a scene. Even tho at some point, you knew you would.

You didn't catch James' hungry gaze when he heard those words slip from your mouth. At the back of his head, he reminiscent the amount of times it was him, slipping out of it.

It took you exactly 17 minutes before you got yourself out of Tony's car. You accidentally grinded yourself on his leather seats, causing you to accidentally moan, and of course, Barnes caught it. He'd never miss that sweet sound leaving your lips. At nights, he wished he'd made you sound like that, even louder. But that was ages ago, and you were over him. It was the only thing that made sense to him.

Five minutes into your romantic stroll to the target's office, the wetness in your panties got worse. You figured the more you moved, the less it hurt, but the pleasure doubled. And the Avengers training lessons didn't exactly cover how to act if you're orgasming every five seconds just because your thighs rubbed against each other.

Correction, you didn't actually cum. It was more of a frustrating edging that made you wanna rip out your hair. You were sure Barnes had already figured something was off or had at least suspected something. The suppressed moans and the tugging on your crotch weren't exactly subtle.

"Alright," he stopped walking, a few meters away from a huge building. It was surrounded by a deep forest, straight from a horror movie. "he was last seen inside. If Steve's correct, we should..." You kept nodding, not actually paying attention to what he was saying. It was the way his metal arm moved when he talked and the way his fingers curled while explaining the plan. You never got the answer to your question if he could feel through his amputated arm. He had to, you thought. You heard him groan every time someone pulled it too hard. You were embarrassed how much it roused you when you heard him whimper in pain, but it was also one of the things that circled your head when you were alone in your room.

You'd imagine, would it feel different. It would definitely be cold, rougher, you suspected faster. And with the serum running in his veins, he'd definitely last longer. That, you were one hundred percent sure, for it was Natasha's moans you heard for over two days after she and Steve finally hit it off. But Nat was also a super soldier. Bucky would probably tire you out by the 2nd round. But you were willing to risk it.

"If you're not gonna be listening to me, then you can turn around and go back." Was the first thing you heard after you forced yourself out of Bucky's hand around your throat fantasies. It probably wasn't the best idea, but seeing Bucky frustrated and annoyed by your incompetence made you feel things. And you wanted more.

"Whatever you want, Sergeant." You smirked, walking past him towards the building. His smell punched you in the face, making your walls clench around nothing. Fuck. Your self-control was harder to put in check. You were sure in a few minutes it'd be non-existent.

"Whatever is your problem today," you heard him behind you. You didn't look at him, focusing on keeping a steady pace towards the building so you could finish the job, get home where you could fuck yourself to oblivion. No one, but your fingers were currently available. And even they couldn't sometimes do the job you needed. But you knew whose would.

"I'm talking to you." Your heart dropped when his hand landed on your shoulder. Your skin got warmer again, and the pulse between your legs was impossible to ignore. You didn't know if you wanted to kill him or fuck him.

Ideally, both.

Turning around, you found the strength to twist his arm, finding out it was his human one, making it easier to push him back. He looked so taken back that it was amusing. But not amusing enough to stop the aching of your cunt.

"Touch me again," and I won't answer for the consequences. You wanted to add. But you didn't. Instead, you stared back at him, praying to god you'd drop dead or something would happen to stop the throbbing pain. You wanted to push your pants down and do something about it, but Bucky's presence wouldn't let you. It would, seventy years ago.

God, the number of times he made you rub yourself in front of him, fuck yourself while he watched. Couldn't he do it now? You'd happily obey.

"You've been acting distant ever since morning," he said, taking a step closer. "I just wanna know what's wrong," he said, lowering his voice at the end. You were sure it was just the stupid plant making you see things, but Bucky's dark eyes were hard to miss. Or the sweat on his forehead. Or the way he clenched his jaw when his eyes dropped to your lips.

Your heart sank. Holy fuck.

You couldn't help but laugh. It was, after all, comical. You looked manic but that didn't bother you. You felt so many emotions at once that you struggled to choose one.

"What the hell are you doing," you heard his voice interrupt your laugh. You were out of your mind. Your legs weak and sweaty, your cunt covered in your wetness, your head filled with migraine, skin on fire, and thoughts surrounding only one thing. And now, cherry on top, you realize Banner discovered an aphrodisiacs that make the super soldier serum its bitch. James motherfucking Barnes joined the lab rats of Banner's sex research.

[holylulusworld]

Forbidden Love (3) - Kinktober 1

Summary: It’s time for payback. Dot must pay for her crimes.

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Kink: Homewrecker kink

Warnings: light smut, unprotected sex, homewrecker kink, past cheating, mentions of amateur sex tapes, collars, mentions of character’s death, mentions of a panic attack/mental breakdown, possessive Bucky

Catch up here: Forbidden Lust (2) sequel to Forbidden Lust

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

The thrill is the best you ever experienced. It’s forbidden and dangerous, but I couldn’t care less. Not with Bucky taking you apart like the hungry beast he can turn into. He barely keeps his hands to himself, and when you told him you wanted to get back at Dot, Bucky lost all control.

He bought a collar with his name on it. You first laughed about his eagerness but allowed him to put it around your neck. He called you his pretty doll before he had you on hands and knees.

“Baby, you look so good like that,” Bucky purrs in your ear. He grips the collar to look at the ‘B’ dangling from the expensive leather band. “You’re mine now. Say it.” His jealous streak is a turn-on. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” You press your hands against his abs to slow him down. “Fuck me slow, baby. Make me feel your huge cock with every thrust.”

His hips still the moment you rake your nails over his chest to leave your mark on him. He smirks, eyes dropping to the color again.

“Don’t stop,” you whine, and wiggle your hips. “Bucky! Don’t stop moving. You’re ruining the video. I wanted her to see that you’re my man now.”

“You’re naughty,” he leans over you to steal a kiss. It’s a sweet kiss, slow and sensual. Bucky moves his hips again, slowly. “Did you think I’d send her the video? No one can see you naked but me.”

You wind your legs tighter around his thighs, holding him deep inside of your body as you start meeting his thrusts. The thought alone that you stole your lover from the person you hate the most has you tethering on the edge.

He silences your moans with his mouth, swallowing every sinful noise with his soft lips. Bucky rocks faster into you, close to his high. “You’re mine. Only mine.” He chants with every deep thrust.

“Yours,” you whimper against his lips when you fall apart. “Only yours.”

He hides his face in your neck and sighs. That’s what he wanted to hear. Bucky doesn’t share your attention well; you already figured that out.

“I love it when you wear my name.” He murmurs against your skin. “I hope you’ll wear it soon for real.”

Now, …

It feels like drowning. Your head is underwater, and your ears are not catching a sound. Breathing gets harder, and you struggle to keep the tears at bay.

The private investigator tried to explain the details of your father’s accident to you and Bucky, but you couldn’t listen to him.

All you heard was that your father’s accident wasn’t an accident. Now you’re close to having a panic attack or a mental breakdown. Your mind hasn’t decided yet.

You clutch your hands to your chest and try to remember a rhyme your dad taught you when you were a kid. It always calmed you, but not today.

“Doll, are you alright?” Bucky worriedly looks at you. You’re unusually silent, and your lips quiver. “Baby, tell me if it’s too much.”

“Shit, Ari,” Jake mutters as he looks up from his laptop. “You had to bring all this up again. We already knew Dot had something to do with Y/N’s dad’s death. Can you be a little more sensitive from now on?”

“I had to explain every detail,” Ari bites back. “That’s what I get paid for, Jensen. I did my job; now do yours and find out who helped her.”

“An insider,” you murmur. “Right?” You look up at Ari, who wrinkles his forehead. “If my dad’s death wasn’t an accident, they should’ve found out during the investigation following his death. But they told us it was an accident.”

“Lots of evidence just disappeared,” Jake explains. “I tried to dig a little deeper. It seems that the coroner changed their autopsy report. I found the original one. They believed deleting the file was enough. Not for Jakie the finder!”

“Jake, calm down,” Ari grunts. “Do you have the autopsy report, or not? I need proof, not assumptions.”

“I found the original autopsy report and messages between Dot and that bastard. Juicy ones. It seems the coroner changed the autopsy report after Dot promised him not only money but something more exciting.”

You make a retching noise. “I’m gonna get sick.”

“Baby doll,” Bucky gently runs his hand up and down your back. “Maybe you should lay down. I can do this alone. Let me do this for you.”

“No,” you pant. “I want to hear everything. I must know what she did to get away with murdering my father. I was holding a grudge against my deceased father because of her. She made me believe Dad forgot about me and my uncle.”

“I got the messages and the missing autopsy report. What else will we need, Ari?” Jake asks. “Do you have the accident report? What does it say?”

Ari shrugs. “Nothing we didn’t already know. I talked to everyone.” He explains that one of the investigators finds it suspicious that your father didn’t try to slow the car down. There were no skid marks.”

“Why did no one investigate his death further? I don’t understand.” You sniffle. “Did she pay them all, or are they just lazy?”

“A combination of both,” Jake gives you a sad smile. “If they declare his death an accident, their job is done. With the coroner handing the investigators a false autopsy report and the cops not wanting to investigate further, we have a shitty combination.”

“What can we do now?” Bucky looks at Ari. “Or what can we do? Is there a way to bring Dot down?”

“We must prove that the first autopsy report was correct. Therefore, we need an exhumation and a second autopsy. I talked to the investigator. He’s willing to reopen your father’s case. His boss told him to close the file back then. He never believed in an accident.”

“Good…that’s good,” Bucky says. He watches you stare at Ari with wide, wet eyes. “Doll, I know this is much. Maybe you should have a break now.”

“I can’t let her get away with this. She killed my father and got away with it. Please don’t shut me out. I’m no damsel in distress.”

The men nod.

You are hiding in your bedroom the day of the exhumation. It feels like a betrayal that you disturb your father’s rest. It’s stupid. You know it is. But you can’t shake the feeling that you ruined his peace.

“Hey, everything is going to be alright. Ari said they were on their way to the coroner. The district attorney is on the case. We are going to prove Dot is behind your father’s death.” Bucky tries to keep you up to date. “They got this.”

“You promise?” You sniffle and throw yourself at Bucky.

“I promise, baby doll. She won’t get away with this. Ari, Andy, and Jensen are on the case. I swear, they won’t stop until they can bring her down.”

It takes them four months and many sleepless nights to convict Dot of her crimes. You fall into Bucky’s arms, sobbing until there is no strength left in you.

For such a long time, you hated your father because he left everything to Dot. Now that you know she killed him to get his money, the house, and the company, you feel like the worst person ever.

“We got her, doll,” Bucky whispers. “You and your uncle will get the company back. And you’ll get the house and everything else.”

You cling to Bucky, feeling too weak to let go of him. “I hated him, Bucky. How could I hate him? She killed my father, and I hated him.”

“You didn’t know,” he softly whispers. “How about we get out of town for a while? The reporters are still outside of my house and won’t give up anytime soon.”

“Together?” You sniff and look up at Bucky.

“Together, baby doll,” he hums. “I told you, you’re mine, and I’ll never let you go again.”