#bucky barnes x reader friends au

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl.

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

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

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

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

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

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

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

next chapter (two).

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

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

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

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

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

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

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

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

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

You wish people would shut up about it.

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

You fall into the latter.

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

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

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

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

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

"Yeah, I'm here."

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

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

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

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like fucking magic."

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

"Magic?" you prompt.

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

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

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

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

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

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

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

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

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

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

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

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

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

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

"Hi, Mama."

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

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

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

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

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

"You've poured four, Mama."

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

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

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

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

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

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

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

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

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

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

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

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

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

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

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

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

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

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

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

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

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

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

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

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

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

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

"Tell me about it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Maybe?" he smirks.

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

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

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

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

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

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

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

"I fucking love the beach."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And what is this?"

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

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

"Me too," he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're the best, sugar."

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

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

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

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

And then, it happens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My soulmate," you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

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

"My honey girl."

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[navybrat817]

Wish, Hope, Dream

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You thought a night would be long enough to clear your head, but a bit of doubt lingers in your mind. Word Count: Over 2.6k Warnings: Slight angst, insecurities, longing, Natasha and Sharon being both good friends and devil's advocates, ongoing AU, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) Previous Part of AU: We Don't Talk Anymore A/N: More Dreamboat and Butterfly from my Reconnect AU! Sorry again in advance, lovelies. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought having answers would give you peace and allow you to rest before facing Bucky in the morning. Oh, how wrong you were. The tussle between your mind and heart didn’t stop, giving you one of the worst nights of sleep that you could remember in a long time. At least your pillow had dried from your tears.

And what was it that you were crying for? Relief that Bucky had feelings for you or were you mourning the lost time you could’ve had together had you two talked sooner? Perhaps both.

“Just get up,” you mumbled, willing yourself to get out of bed and lay out a random sundress to wear.

You wondered if anyone else was awake as you showered and brushed your teeth. Guilt crept in for skipping out on game night. Whatever transpired between you and Bucky, you couldn't let any of those feelings bleed into the rest of the time with your friends. You had to suck it up no matter the outcome.

Glancing down the hall as you left your room, your gaze lingered on Bucky’s door before your footsteps moved in that direction. You raised your hand to knock, wanting to check on him and make sure he got enough sleep. Part of you was tempted to sneak in and crawl into bed with him. Not even completely for sex, which you did not need to think about, but to have him hold you close and assure you that everything would be okay.

And to stop torturing yourself.

But you let your hand fall. You didn't want to assume that he wanted to see you first thing upon waking up. Assumptions and not communicating were what led you on this path to begin with. But you didn't want to smother him.

We can still figure it out together.

You crept downstairs, spotting a few empty bottles from the night before. The main floor was dark, minus the sunlight coming in through the windows and the kitchen. You stayed quiet when you saw Natasha and Sharon huddled together in a hushed conversation by the counter.

Which stopped the moment you walked into the room.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that they were talking about you. Not with the concerned look in Sharon’s eyes. Natasha, on the other hand, stared back at you in contemplation. At least it wasn't pity. You couldn't take that.

Did Bucky tell them? Or did they figure it out?

“Hey. Sorry for skipping game night,” you said, shifting on your feet as your gaze flickered between them. “Guess Steve and Sam aren't up yet?” You asked, purposely not mentioning Bucky.

“Don’t need to apologize,” Sharon said, concern continuing to show in her eyes. “I think they’re getting a run in.”

“Oh. Gotcha,” you said. Looking between them again, you hoped things wouldn't be this awkward for the rest of the week. “Am I interrupting? I can just grab breakfast when you two are done.”

“Not interrupting. Go sit in the living room,” Natasha urged, nodding toward the direction of the couch. “Look like you could use a pick-me-up.”

“Smoothie?” You guessed, glancing around at the array of fruit ready for blending.

“Oh, yeah. Better than coffee,” the redhead teased as she threw a few pieces into the blender with some ice, bringing a small smile to your face as you went back to the living room. She was a good friend.

All of them were.

“You okay?” Sharon asked, sitting beside you on the couch.

You hesitated for a moment. You adored them and always would. But when it came to Bucky, you feared everyone would always side with him over you. Your chest tightened at the thought that if things went south you’d get left behind.

And hadn't you been left behind once before?

“Yes and no,” you answered, not wanting to expand completely yet as Natasha walked in and handed you a glass, your hands gripping it tight. They didn't need to deal with your issues, did they? “Did Bucky talk to everyone? I’m guessing he said something since you two are looking at me like I'm going to break.”

“We don’t think you’re going to break, but you look on edge,” Natasha answered, taking a seat when you didn't disagree. “The guys talked to him a little bit. He wouldn't give them all the details, but we know you two had a long overdue chat.”

“And the way you bolted upstairs last night and how he looked like a kicked puppy, we guessed it didn't go well,” Sharon added, raising an eyebrow. “I think Nat wanted to kick his ass.”

“He looked like he kicked his own ass. Would've just been rubbing salt in an open wound if I did anything else,” she said with no trace of humor. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It may help,” Sharon said.

Maybe.

With a deep breath, you told the girls what had happened. How you and Bucky admitted that you had feelings for each other, which neither of them appeared surprised by in the least, but that you walked away from him once the talk was over. How you wished you would’ve given him a chance then and there, but didn’t. It helped and hurt to tell them about it.

You hung your head by the time you finished, your throat tight. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, swallowing a little. “This is supposed to be a fun trip and I’m messing it up with my issues.”

Sharon rubbed your back as you took a sip of your smoothie. “Hey. You’re our friend. You didn't do anything wrong or mess anything up, okay? We all love Bucky, but he's an idiot.”

“Huge idiot. Don't know what you see in him,” Natasha winked as you scoffed. You would always try to see the good in him, even when you were upset. “But I have to say, I’m glad you two finally told each other how you feel.”

“Took you long enough,” the blonde teased halfheartedly. “Kind of hoped you would've said something before we showed up.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. The gang ran late to the beach house on purpose. Of course, they did. The girls were perceptive. Always had been. “So, you knew.”

“Everyone knew, except for the two of you. What’s that trope?” Natasha questioned, her gaze directed at Sharon. “Idiots in love?”

“Oh, yeah,” she smiled. “You two are a walking romance novel, torturing yourselves for no good reason.”

“So, I'm an idiot then?” you said, narrowing your eyes when they both opened their mouths. “You know what? Don’t answer that.”

You beat yourself up enough.

“Like I said, I’m glad you told him and now you finally have confirmation that he feels the same way,” Natasha said, cocking an eyebrow. “What's the problem then?”

“What do you mean?” You replied.

“You said you took the night to think, but you don't exactly look like you're ready to move forward.”

“Because I don't know if I am,” you admitted.

You were overthinking the situation. You wanted to be with Bucky, but some of your wall was still up and you didn't know how to tear the rest of it down. Why was it so hard?

“Look, I'm not excusing what Bucky did because he's an idiot for going out with Dot instead of talking to you, but you know how he feels now,” Natasha began, diplomatic and level-headed like always. “Do you plan to keep him at a distance as a way to protect yourself? Or are you maybe punishing him just a little bit for seemingly abandoning you?”

Leave it to her to ask the tough questions.

“I'm not trying to punish him,” you promised. Both of you had punished yourselves enough. “I just don't want him to hurt me. I mean, I spent two years thinking he'd never want me, but he just didn't want to fight for me,” you said, tears brimming your eyes.

“Or maybe he thought he never stood a chance and settled,” Sharon said. “Which, again, he’s an idiot. Most guys are.”

“So, what are you saying? That I should just pretend the last two years didn't happen?” You asked.

“No,” they said in sync.

You huffed. Why were girls both direct and cryptic? “Then what are you saying?”

Natasha grabbed a tissue and handed it over when a tear slid down your cheek. “We’re saying that we think Bucky is genuinely sorry for his stupid assumption and wants you to be his girl. Start slow if you have to and set the ground rules. If it means him apologizing every day with his words and actions, he will. And we know if you gave him your heart, it would be the last thing he'd break. Don’t you owe it to yourself to be happy?”

“Yeah. Maybe just start with a date,” Sharon said, tilting her head when you didn’t say anything. They were only trying to help, but why did it feel like pressure of sorts? Did they fully understand your apprehension? “You really don't see how he looks at you, do you?”

“Why would I when I convinced myself he'd never want me?” You whispered.

Bucky had convinced himself of the same thing. Maybe the two of you were idiots. How long would you continue to torture yourself? They had a point. Why not start with one date and see where it led?

What would be the harm in that, besides risking your whole heart?

“Well, we see how he looks at you,” Sharon said, her eyebrows shooting up. “Wait. I have it.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Have what?” She asked. You wondered the same thing.

The front door opened before you got your answer, your heart skipping a beat when Bucky stopped in the doorway with a beach bag in hand. You realized after a moment that he was still in the same clothes he wore the day before, his eyes bloodshot as he looked your way. His hair was disheveled, too. He didn’t look like he slept well, if at all.

It broke your heart.

“Hey, Butterfly,” he croaked when you got to your feet, clearing his throat with a tired smile. “You look beautiful.”

“It’s just a sundress, Dreamboat,” you said, the compliment making your stomach flip before you took a step toward him. “Are you okay?”

His eyes lit up. “You’re still calling me that?”

“Of course, I am.” you smiled softly. He’d always be your Dreamboat. “Did you get any sleep?” You added, sighing when he confirmed your suspicion with a shake of his head. Had you been on his mind? “Why not?”

He gripped the bag handle like a lifeline. “I needed to find a way to say I’m sorry. Tried writing a letter and it wasn't enough.”

Your heart swelled, glancing back at the girls as they both gave you an encouraging smile. “Look. Before you do anything, why don’t you take a nap?” You suggested. “It’s still early and I’m not going anywhere.”

“A nap sounds like a good idea before volleyball,” Natasha said, leveling Bucky with a look. “In fact, why don’t you get him to bed?”

“Nat,” you hissed. Of course, she’d suggest you take him upstairs.

“Yeah, we’ll catch up with you two in a bit,” Sharon said.

The hopeful look in Bucky’s eyes was irresistible. “Come on,” you said, taking his arm once he kicked his shoes off. You felt his gaze on you as you took him up the stairs. It amazed you that he didn’t trip over his own feet since he kept his eyes on you. “I can tell you’re staring at me.”

“I half expected you to be gone this morning,” he said, opening his door. “I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

Your stomach dropped. “You think I’d bolt after the conversation we had?” You asked. Did he think little of you now?

He chuckled under his breath. “I said half expected,” he teased.

Instead of releasing your arm, he pulled you into his room before you could protest. It wasn’t a good idea to be there, yet there you were. Not fighting it as he pulled you toward the bed.

His large, inviting bed.

“So, what’s in the bag?” You asked curiously to distract yourself as he set it down and stretched out on the bed, pulling you down with him. He gave you plenty of room so you wouldn’t have to cuddle close. He also left the door cracked open.

He was giving you an out.

“I can’t show you yet because I have to put it together,” he yawned, giving you an apologetic smile. “It’ll spoil the surprise otherwise.”

A giddy smile appeared on your face. He was actually going to make you something. “I’ll be patient,” you said, letting him keep your hand in his.

“Haven’t we been patient long enough?” He asked, his hair falling in his eyes as he gazed at you. Even exhausted, he was breathtaking. “I know you needed the night to think it over.”

The smile fell from your face, silence stretching in the room before you squeezed his hand. “Bucky, you need to get some sleep.”

He couldn’t mask the dejected look on his face. It wasn’t an outright rejection, but you hadn’t exactly declared that you should move forward. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said, his voice thick. “All I could see were the tears in your eyes and knowing I caused them.”

“It’s okay,” you told him. It was an assurance for yourself, too. You were okay and he hadn't tried to hurt you.

“It’s not okay,” he argued, the familiar determination back in his eyes. “And I don’t want to sleep. I want to make you smile. I want to win you a stuffed animal at the carnival.”

“You promised me that at dinner yesterday,” you teased.

“I want to take you dancing,” he added, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

You could easily picture him smiling as he twirled you around and moved to the beat. Maybe that could be your first actual date. “As long as you don’t step on my feet.”

“I want to take you to bed,” he whispered,

You inhaled, your heart pounding at the implication. “Bucky…”

“I want to hear about your day. The little things, even the details that you think are mundane,” he said, scooting a bit closer. “I want to be the one you talk to and depend on again.”

Each declaration worked its way into your heart. Why couldn’t you just take the leap of faith? “We can’t just-”

“I want you to be my girl,” he said, his face inches from yours. “I want to give you everything.”

Your heart screamed at you to comfort him, kiss him, to tell him the same. “Bucky, you’re not giving me anything until you get some sleep,” you whispered, resting a hand on his cheek. He needed rest. “Please, for me?”

“I’m afraid if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone,” he whispered, fighting to keep his eyes open. “I can't lose you again.”

You didn't want to lose him either. “You won't lose me because I’m not going anywhere. I said we’d figure this out together and I meant that,” you promised, needing to give him hope. “Close your eyes. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He finally shut them as he breathed out, “Butterfly, I lo…”

You gasped as Bucky trailed off, smiling to yourself as your eyes misted over. You weren’t going to run. Not from him. Not when you owed it to yourself to be happy.

You told yourself that as his phone rang.

Even as Dot’s name showed on the screen.

It's fine, lovelies! 😭 Things will look up. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Big News

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: You have a surprise for Bucky.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Hey!” You bounce up to the table. It’s funny how Bucky can look so intent. So gloomy in the midst of the bustling cafe. He sits up as he puts his phone down on the table. “I’m sorry I’m late. I got great news!” 

“Oh?” His brows lower, “well, you’re double sugar frappa-whatever is melting.” 

He points across the table as you sit and roll your eyes. 

“If you tried it, you wouldn’t be making fun of me. They are delicious!” You put your purse in your lap and take a long slurp through the straw. You pop your lips off and let out and ‘ahhhhh’. You smile at him as he gives you that look. 

“I don’t take sugar in my coffee and you barely take coffee in your sugar,” he drones. 

You giggle. He's always so grumpy about the smallest things. 

“News?” He prompts dully. 

“Right,” you wiggle in your seat. “I got you a date!” 

He twitches and tilts his head, “a date?” He gives you a cautious look and shifts in his seat. “Uh...” 

“Yes! This lawyer lady I know. I met her at a trivia night way back and added her on Insta. Well, I saw her post the other day and I was like how did I not think of this before?” 

“Lawyer?” He mutters. “I... you’re setting me up with a stranger?” 

“It’s a blind date. It’s fun. She’s really established and smart and beautiful. Oh my god, she posted this picture of her in a bikini—I could never wear something like that.” You get your phone out and he sighs. 

“Wait, why did you do that?” He grits. 

You look above the screen at him, “well, you said the other day that you get lonely. That’s why you have Alpine, right? And she’s so sweeeeet,” you drag out the word in adoration, “but you need someone you can talk to. Who can talk back.” 

“We talk,” he insists. 

“Yes, but we’re friends. You need someone your own age. Or closer to.” 

“Wait, how old is she?” He wonders. 

“Aha, you’re interested,” you point at him accusatorily. 

“I’m asking questions.” 

“Right, she’s... fifty something? She doesn’t look it. Like you. You don’t look... uh... 1917... carry the one...”  

“Stop that,” he demands. “I know how goddamn old I am.” 

“Ha, yeah, sorry, I...” you scroll through your Insta friends. “Here!” You turn the phone to him and beam a smile in his direction. He glances at it for a split second and shrugs. He sits back and drinks his coffee.

“I’m not really... in that scene,” he says. 

“You should get out there! I mean, you can’t bring Sam and Steve to dinner all the time. You need someone--” 

“Is this what it’s about? Because I showed up at the restaurant?” He asks. 

“No, it’s-- I’m being a friend. You two are so alike and she loves old movies and motorcycles. I could never! I'd fall off or not tie my helmet right,” you chuckle. 

“Dreamy,” he growls. 

“Bucky,” you whine back. “You gotta get out and have some fun.” 

“We have fun,” he counters. 

“We do and that’s awesome—Oh, okay, how about, I got an idea! A double date.” 

“A double—you have... a boyfriend?” He taps the porcelain cup with his metal fingertip. 

“Ha, no way. But I could find someone to come along. Just so you’re not alone. There’s a few guys at the restaurant I’m sure would go for a free meal or I mean I know other cute girls. I’m not picky.” 

He closes his eyes and a line forms between his brows. He pinches his nose and squares his shoulders. “Where the hell did you come up with the idea that I wanted to date?” 

“I...” you sit back and your smile falls. His blue eyes flick open as he drops his hand. The dimple in his cheek ticks. “I’m sorry, I thought it was—I was... trying to be a good friend.” 

He stares at you and the stone slowly eases from his jaw. He looks down and back up. He huffs. 

“I’m sorry, dreamy,” he says, “it’s just been a while for me. Not that I haven’t thought of it, you know? But I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” He shakes his head and glances around the cafe. “The last time I dance with a dame was a goddamn USO tour in 1945.” 

That hits you like a sixteen-wheeler. You didn’t know that. You didn’t think of it. He’s been in this world for a while and he’s handsome and a superhero! You just though he’d have lots of people interested. Charlize sure seemed excited when you asked. 

“And now you’re looking at me like I’m a loser because I haven’t kissed a gal in 80 years--” 

“No, you’re not a loser. If you are, then I am.” 

“Come on, you don’t gotta--” 

“Really. I never kissed anyone. Not lying.” 

He shakes his head and scoffs, “oh no, you’re not lying to make me feel better.” 

You put on your most sober face, “Bucky, I swear,” your cheeks burn and you put your hands on your neck. “I mean... it would be nice I’m sure but it just never came up.” He looks at you quietly. You squirm. “I know you can hear that I’m telling the truth.” 

“Yeah, I know,” he accepts at last. He crosses his arms and clicks his tongue, “fine. If you’re going to suffer through it, I will too.” He looks away as his jaw tenses, “if you’re going to keep pulling that puppy dog face, one day, it’s gonna wear off.” 

“Yes! Bucky’s got a date! Bucky’s got a date!” You sing out of tune. 

“Stop,” he snarls and narrows his eyes at you. You wince and giggle.  

“Yay!” You put your hands up in a demure celebration and he tuts. 

“You’re so cheesy,” he sneers. 

“And you’re a party pooper. No moping on date night, got it?” You try to put on a stern face and he squints even harder. Finally, he cracks and gives a chuckle. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he sniffs. “You and tough, don’t go together.” 

[lovelybarnes]

Flirting and Football- B. Barnes

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader Warnings: past assault of reader, as slow burn as i can, au so bucky is different although i tried to not make him so ooc, sort of enemies to lovers?, genuinely can’t remember anymore, crappy writing in the beginning because i started writing this a year ago but i swear it gets better i promise About: request!! Bucky barnes and a college au where reader is the only one who isn’t interested in him basically

The end of your pen rests between your lips, unused as you scan the textbook page in front of you, your eyes thinning occasionally as you read. Your study partner’s book lays open in front of her, ten pages behind, and notebook adorned with two sole words.

She’s reciting the events of a date she went on yesterday or the day before, although admittedly, you’d only caught detached words for the past double-digit minutes. Your careful attention had dwindled down to nods as you subtly tapped at your notebook, then not-so-subtly and finally disappeared altogether as you made miscellaneous noises. 

You hum along now, eyes flickering from your notes to the material as you annotate pages with bright sticky notes.

She doesn’t seem to notice your disinterest, gushing about arms and hair, and the kiss that changed her life. The words don’t last too long in your mind, too cluttered with equations and vocabulary to make space for them.

“The girls told me he goes on a lot of dates but I can just tell I’m the one.”

You glance at your open computer, frowning at the slimming battery life, and purse your lips at the time. Sighing softly, you meet Quinn’s glazed eyes, offering her a tight smile you hope is somewhat believable.

“Is he in psychology too?” you ask, tapping on the notes the both of you were supposed to start when she began talking.

“Bucky? Oh no,” she laughs, the finger twirling her red hair pulling away to wave her hand dismissively. “He’s in sports or something. He's on the soccer team, you know.”

You nod. “Wow.”

“I know, oh my god.” She fans herself. “Did I tell you he basically won the last game?”

Probably. You duck your chin, highlighting a sentence. “Isn’t it a group effort?”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “Well, yeah, but he scored the winning goal.”

“Okay then,” you agree, deciding that you can finish your notes at your dorm. “I didn’t go to the last game, so what do I know?”

Quinn’s eyes go wide. “You didn’t go?” she exclaims, and you shush her, confirming. “Why?”

You shrug. “I had to do something.”

“You have to go to the next one tomorrow and see him in action. But don’t fall in love,” she warns with a giggle. “He’s mine.”

“Promise,” you reply hollowly, shutting your laptop. “Well, I have to go. This was helpful, though,” you lie.

“Oh, yeah, totally. I have to go too, rest up for the big game tomorrow. Gotta be there early to support Bucky,” Quinn informs. You stack your books to carry them back to your dorm.

“Right,” you respond, standing. “I hope everything goes well with him,” you say as you walk out.

She shoots you a big grin and a nod, her face bright as she agrees.

It’s cold when you step through the doors, bouncing on your feet and hugging your things closer to your chest as you begin to walk toward your dorm. You move to pull out your phone from your back pocket, quickly unlocking it to get to your contacts list. You press on Bruce’s contact and listen to the two beeps until he picks up.

“I hate you so much right now,” you greet, cutting his cheery hello off.

“What? What did I do?”

“‘I’ll be there!’ ‘How could I miss studying physics?’” you mock, imitating his voice. “You left me there, and I was stuck listening to Quinn's monologue about how the quarterback or whatever is the love of her life!”

“What quarterback?” Bruce asks.

“Does it matter? Honestly?” you rebut, taking care to watch your surroundings as you bully your friend. “Your quarterback wouldn’t cheat on you so I’m assuming it’s one that’s not Thor.”

“Okay, okay, I know. I’m sorry about ditching you. Thor and I just finished, we can come by and pick you up at the library. And Thor is a defender. Different sport entirely.”

“Whatever and ew,” you complain. “And I’m already on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“What? I told you to not walk home alone. Just wait for me.”

“Don’t worry. The dorm isn’t that far and you’re not exactly the most threatening anyway,” you remind. “I’ll be fine. ”

“Fine. Keep me on the line and be careful,” Bruce tells you.

“Of course,” you quip. A pause drapes over the two of you, the silence only interrupted by the steady sound of your footsteps on the concrete. You turn, leaves crunching underneath your shoes and you can practically hear Bruce relax somewhat, knowing that you’re nearby. You put him on speaker to hear better. “How’d it go with Thor today?”

“Really good.” The golden thread of happiness threaded through Bruce’s words comes through clear and clean. You can imagine him as he talks into the phone, glancing at Thor to make sure he can’t hear as he plays with his fingers. “I’m really sorry for leaving you there.”

“You’re not,” you amend. “But it’s fine. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I am,” Bruce confirms.

“I don’t know how you find the time to juggle everything. It’s kind of terrifying,” you laugh, expecting him to tease you back, but his answer comes back honest.

“I know you think of boyfriends and whatever as distractions, but it’s the opposite. It’s not juggling if I have help carrying everything.”

You push your tongue against your cheek, listening to the rustling of the trees. You grab your keys as you arrive at your dorm door. “I’m here.”

“Finally.” You roll your eyes, opening the door to see your roommate and her brother inside.

“Hey Wanda, Piet.”

Wanda smiles at you and Pietro winks before greeting Bruce through your phone.

“Okay, Bruce, are we studying tomorrow?” you ask him, balancing your things in your arms. When Pietro notices, he stands, taking your books from you and setting them down on your table. You thank him and pat his arm.

“Before the game? Sure,” he replies. You take him off speaker, pulling your phone to your ear, not noticing that the mention of the game has caught Pietro and Wanda's attention.

“You’re going?” you question. “I thought Thor was benched.”

“He’s off!” There’s a whoop you recognize as Thor’s that makes you smile. “Which is why it’s an important game we need to go to.”

“We?” you echo.

“We as in you and I,” Bruce verifies.

“Wait, I have to go too? Why?” you whine.

Pietro cuts in, “You have to go! How will we win without our lucky charm?”

You purse your lips and squint at him. “Didn’t you guys win last game?”

“Still! Come on, please,” he insists. Wanda joins in, offering to bake you cookies.

You search your brain for excuses. “I have things to do.”

“If it’s not ‘stay home and binge a series,’ I'll let you skip,” Bruce chimes.

You frown as the siblings grin.

“Yeah, you’re going,” Bruce declares. “They’re not that bad and you know it. Besides, Thor wants you to braid his hair. You know my fingers always get tangled.”

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically. “But I want it noted that it’s only because I really like cookies.” You focus on Wanda, who nods enthusiastically. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Bruce repeats your words before you hang up, and at the click, you let yourself fall on your couch.

Wanda kisses your head and pats your shoulder comfortingly. “It’s going to be fun.”

“Standing in the middle of students I don’t know as they yell at a ball does not sound fun to me,” you disagree, but she ignores you.

“Even Vis is going,” she argues. “And you know how excited Thor gets when you braid his hair.”

You mutter incoherently.

“We’ll leave at three,” she instructs with a smile.

-

“I could be doing so many useful things right now,” you hiss at Bruce, remembering the half-written essay you have saved on your laptop, a string of frustratedly typed letters highlighted and waiting to be replaced with something coherent typed just beneath it.

Bruce had made you leave just as you began to taste the word you were looking for, assuring you that going out to see a game would somehow give your fried mind the jolt it needed. With little argument and the promise you’d committed to with a hook of your pinkie, you’d sighed and shut your laptop, leaving your apartment early to see the team before the game.

You could recognize some faces thanks to Pietro forcing you out to a few team celebrations and the occasional game you never paid much attention to. Although he’d laid off a while ago when Bruce and Thor started dating, your best friend had dragged you to every soccer-related event he didn’t want to go to alone. Pietro never minded your absence as much as Bruce did, always satisfied as long as you celebrated or consoled him afterward.

The word you’d been wracking your brain for suddenly comes to mind when you sit next to Bruce on a bench, pulling your phone out of your pocket to note it down, not noticing when the entire soccer team begins to leave the locker room, spilling into the hall where you’re slumped with your best friend.

Thor bellows your name excitedly when he spots you both, heading over. You glance up to give him a smile, quickly continuing to type the stray thoughts you’d been trying to catch when he turns, an extravagant arm extending as if to present you to the few guys with him. “This is the lovely lady I told you all about. She is very smart.”

You laugh at his introduction, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “Thank you, Thor.”

“Of course! And you all know Bruce, of course.”

There are chimes of agreement and greetings for your friend, a few of the players coming up to you. Pietro arrives first, as always, and pecks your forehead. “I, for one, am very glad you came to cheer us on.”

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” another says, huge and blonde, but his features are softened by an open grin. “I’m Steve.” He juts a finger at the brunet next to him, his hair tied up into a neat little bun at the nape of his neck, blue eyes shining as they observe you. “That’s Bucky.”

You smile at them, nodding. “Nice to meet you. I’ve actually heard a lot.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. “Really?”

You stare at him blankly, opening and closing your mouth like a fish. “I meant Steve.” Steve looks startled. “I saw his work when I was volunteering at the art show last month. It was great, I actually bought the piece with the lilies!”

“Oh.” Bucky blinks blankly, tongue poking into his cheek before he clears his throat and manages a lift of the left edge of his lips. “‘Makes sense someone so pretty would have good taste.”

You stare silently at him for a second, relieved when Steve’s surprise takes a second to process.

“Wait, me?” Steve points stupidly at himself. “My art?”

“It was amazing, I couldn’t let it slip by!”

“I told you,” Bucky tells him, elbowing his arm. He, unlike the other players, wears a dark sleeve over the entirety of his left arm, all the way up to his fingers. His fingertips, jagged pink, peek out. “I wish you woulda let me go. I could’ve seen the art and met her sooner.”

His friend sends him a furtive glance. “Is this your first time coming to a game?” Steve wonders as he turns back to you. 

You shake your head. “Pietro is my roommate’s brother and Thor’s my best friend’s boyfriend. They drag me here when they feel like it, but it’s my first time being back here.” You gesture to the hall. “I’m usually a little late because Bruce drives like a grandmother.”

Bruce sighs, sending you a short glance that you respond to with a gentle nudge of his shoulder.

Blue eyes nods, careful to give you his full attention. “Well, I think you should come around more often.”

You scan him for a second. “Why?” you ask genuinely.

He pauses as he begins to explain, eyes pinched in confusion before Thor’s booming voice cuts him off, reminding you that you need to braid his hair. You give them a final smile before standing. “Duty calls, I guess.”

“So you’ll come around?” He calls after you, frowning when you respond with a transparent smile and ingenuine thumbs up. “Huh,” he says.

“What?” Steve responds, a little slowly, knowingly. He knows well what is making Bucky’s features crease in that way, but he’d prefer hearing it from his friend’s mouth.

“Just… wondering why I’d never seen her before. Pretty.”

“Uh huh.” Steve nods disbelievingly. Knowing he isn’t going to be able to push it out of his friend, he begins to walk toward the field, not waiting up for Bucky, the man caught up in his thoughts. “‘Thought it was because the line didn’t work,” he finally tells him, catching Bucky’s attention.

“What’re you talkin’ about, punk? What line?”

Steve snickers. “Any of ‘em.”

-

The next time Bucky sees you is across the courtyard, arms wrapped around books, your fingers curved protectively around the edges of your laptop. You struggle as you talk to someone he recognizes, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet as you reach to brush strands of hair away from your eyes.

Why you don’t have a backpack like every other person is beyond him, but it’s the last thing on his mind when your eyes meet his and you smile and wave. Yeah, he knows how to handle this—the attention, the blushing, the flattery.

The hand he raises to wave back freezes awkwardly when he realizes your attention isn’t on him, but rather following something behind his shoulder. His hand lowers as he feels Pietro brush past him and over to you, Wanda following close by. She catches Bucky’s actions and sends him an amused look.

You accept the kiss Pietro drops on your forehead and greet Wanda excitedly, too busy chatting with her to notice the two pens that slip from your pile.

Bucky sniffs, tugging his varsity jacket tighter and deciding to embrace his mistake, walks over to you.

“Hey,” he greets, your name coming out like silk, shooting you a smile. He bends down to pick up your pens, handing them to you with a cajoling rise of his lips.

You return it a pause later. “Hey, um—thanks…” you struggle for a second before you’re cut off.

“Bucky!” the classmate that you were talking to exclaims, and Bucky realizes it’s Quinn, the girl he’d gone out on a date with a while ago. “I saw you on the field yesterday,” she tells him, twirling a strand of red hair around her finger. “You were amazing.”

“I appreciate it,” he thanks her, his eyes flickering back to you for a second, spotting you beginning to step away with a short wave and an elbow to Wanda's side. “I should go, I needed to talk to her,” he starts, acting quickly. “But it was nice to see you again. You look great, I like your necklace.”

Quinn’s fingers reach to pinch at the pendant on her chain, tilting her head at Bucky as she beams. “Thank you!”

Bucky nods, turning to find you gone. He looks around, surprised, but finally catches sight of you turning a corner with your friends. Before he can head toward you, Quinn catches his arm.

“Aren’t you going to ask me out again?” She smiles at him, eyes wide and shiny.

He winces, forcing himself to not glance back at you. “You’re a really great girl, Quinn, but I don’t think we’d work out. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Quinn says quietly, not returning the apologetic smile he sends her. He twists his lips and apologizes again before jogging over to you, slowing to match your pace when he finally catches up.

“Hey again,” he quips, offering you a smile. You return it kindly, twirling your pens between your fingers.

“Hey, Bucky.” Probably accidentally, you enunciate his name in a way that makes him realize you didn’t remember it when he came up to you earlier, and he bites back an embarrassed blush. “It was a good game yesterday.”

“Thank you,” he replies easily. “How was I?”

You cock your head at him. “Fine? You… were a soccer player.”

Pietro laughs, pulling you closer. “He’s asking if he lived up to the stories,” he clarifies, shooting Bucky a look. “‘Does another pretty girl think I’m great too?’” he mocks, the imitation edged in his accent.

You hum in understanding, turning back to Bucky. “Stories?” you echo. Your features bear no likeness to the pull Bucky is used to with girls, nothing implying the agreement or validation he’s usually welcomed with.

“Oh, you know,” Bucky starts with a nonchalant shrug, “of the ‘insane stamina’ and ‘could totally carry a bus’ variety. You know, the ‘Winter Soldier’ name.”

Your eyebrows raise. “‘Winter Soldier?’” you repeat, words bolded in an unconscious drama.

“’S my nickname,” Bucky explains sheepishly. You continue to stare at him for a second before cracking a smile.

“Bucky Barnes, right?” you ask him. He pushes his tongue against his cheek at the blow to his ego and nods. “Which one were you again? All the uniforms are the same, I can only recognize Thor and Piet.”

Pietro hoots. “Fifteen, baby!”

Bucky eyes you, his cheeks pulling with an amused lilt. “You wound me, doll.”

“I wound you?” you giggle, unable to help it. “This is our first conversation and I have the power to wound you. I don’t know how I feel about having this power over a stranger.”

Bucky gasps, reaching out to grab your hand with his ungloved hand and wrap it around an invisible knife to plunge it into his chest. He chokes as he mimes nursing his wound. “Just digging it in deeper, aren’t you? Vixen.”

“Oh, come on, you expect me to have learned your number after knowing you for five minutes?” you exclaim with mild indignance, a whisper of amusement betraying it. You click your tongue. “You were fine, I’m sure,” you respond finally. Wanda jabs an elbow into your arm and whispers something to you. Your eyes light up. “Oh, you’re seventeen! The ball hogger! You do realize you’re in a team, right?”

Pietro claps, nodding approvingly at you. “And me, little flower?”

You roll your eyes. “You were fast. Like always.”

“That’s code for ‘the best out there,’” Pietro tells Bucky.

“I think the code for that is Bucky Barnes,” Bucky retorts, turning back to you. “‘Got a favorite player yet?” He asks you.

You tilt a brow at him. “On the soccer team?”

“Yeah,” Bucky confirms.

“Based off of what?” You counter.

“Anything.”

“Oh.” You think. “Then no.”

Pietro clears his throat loudly.

“What if I get you the best seat possible next game?” Bucky offers.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m good where I am.”

“She barely pays attention anyway,” Wanda informs. “All she does is complain.”

You nod. “And I can do that in any seat.”

“Alright… what if you wear my jersey at the next game?” Bucky continues.

You raise an eyebrow. “And you’re convincing me, right?”

“You should be swooning right now,” Bucky argues accusingly, but his words are tinged with a grin.

“Oh, my bad,” you deadpan, placing a hand on your chest and rocking on your heels. You flutter your lashes at him and melt your lips into a watery smile. “Oh my, golly! Benson’s sweaty jersey!”

“Bucky,” Bucky grumbles. “Bucky’s sweaty jersey.”

“Right,” you reply with an attentive nod, laughing quietly. Your attention is drawn by another building and you turn. “I gotta go, but please keep the jersey far away from me.” You point at Bucky and then wave at Wanda and Pietro. “I’ll see you guys around.”

“Me too!” Bucky shouts after you. You only reply with a thumbs up Bucky can tell is sarcastic even if he can’t see your face, slipping past a closing door. Bucky purses his lips, looking after you. “Huh.”

A hand slaps down on his shoulder, and Pietro's laughter bubbles from behind him. “Nice work,” he lies.

-

Entirely suddenly, your mind feels vignetted with inky stress. You suppose it was predictable, having ignored the weight your responsibilities had lain on your shoulders for as long as you had, but it’s exhausting nonetheless. You blink slowly at your document in a lousy attempt to soothe yourself, feeling as though you were staring at it through a tunnel.

You yawn as you splay yourself out on your bed, stretching your legs out as far as you can. Your fingertips brush your pillows as you let your eyelids fall closed for just a second, thoughts and reminders of the rest of the things you need to do lining your entrance to sleep, but the door is so inviting, the red tape of your to-do list blurring.

Your ringtone cuts in when you begin to reason with yourself, back straightening fast enough to give you whiplash when you open your eyes again. Your hand slams around your phone, blinking fast as you read Bruce’s contact name.

“The thing,” you mumble, remembering Bruce’s insistence that you went to something. You answer his call and fight to not let yourself fall back on your bed, free fingers moving to rub at your temple.

“Hey, are you ready?” Bruce asks, the sounds of conversation in the background.

“Sure,” you answer tiredly, looking down at yourself. Whoever it is you’re going out with can’t be too picky. “Ready for what again?”

“The team’s win? We’re going out to eat at an actual restaurant and everything.”

You purse your lips. “Are we going to a bar?”

There’s a moment of silence on his end, only highlighted by the muffled voices that converse. “...No.”

Nodding earnestly, you stand, stretching and shaking your limbs out in an attempt to wake yourself up, but the attempt is mocked when you yawn once again. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and wince, tilting your chin up to get another angle. “Then, yes, I’m ready. I guess.”

“That's great!” Bruce praises. “Because we are outside.”

You frown, grabbing a hair tie from your dresser before walking out of your room, surprised to see your apartment empty. “We?” you repeat as you look around, confused. “Are Wan and Pietro with you?”

“They’re probably already there. And ‘we’ as in I picked up Thor, Steve, and Bucky.”

You grunt in response, shutting off the lights and plucking your keys from the counter before locking up.

“You know Bucky. He’s not that bad.”

There are sounds of protest and you catch an offended ‘that bad?’ before you hang up, waving to Bruce’s car. The door to the back opens before you can touch the handle, a grinning face and shiny blue eyes welcoming you. “Hey, doll, you look great.”

“Bunny,” you greet, ducking your chin in a nod. Bucky gets out of the car, extending a hand to invite you inside.

“I don’t mind that one.” Bucky winks.

You shake your head, crawling inside and saying hi to Steve, nose wrinkling when you realize you’ll be sandwiched between the two guys, and turning when you notice Bucky getting in again. You tug on your seatbelt with a polite smile to Steve, bumping into hard muscle when you aim for the buckle.

“You tryna cop a feel? Could’ve just asked,” Bucky tells you, bumping you gently.

“Oh please,” you scoff, poking him with the metal thing. “Excuse me, seatbelt. Bruce isn’t that great of a driver. He’s in his twenties and gets night blindness.”

Bucky pats your hand gently and takes the belt from you, clicking it into place for you.

“Nice and safe, don’t worry, doll.”

You set your lips into a thin line and look straight ahead, pushing your phone into the space between your thighs so you don’t lose it. “How’d you do on your Norse mythology exam, Thor?” you ask, recalling the nerves with which he’d told you about it a couple of days ago.

“Wonderful! I really enjoy the subject. Thank you for helping me study,” Thor replies cheerily.

“You didn’t even need to,” you assure, stifling a yawn. Bucky frowns.

“Did you get some sleep?” Bruce wonders, eyeing you at a red light.

“Yeah, I drank some coffee,” you respond.

“Not the same thing. Not even close.”

You laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you promise. “Stop worrying.”

“I’m always worried,” Bruce grumbles.

“Hey, how was art today?” you ask Steve, nudging his arm gently. Bucky’s brows furrow, urging Steve to look at him and read his mind with an intense stare. Steve does not.

“You were right. I was being too judgemental,” Steve sighs. “I should’ve listened to you.”

“Listened to who?” Bucky buts in. “How did you know Stevie had art today?” he continues, trying to keep his tone light.

“We talk.” You shrug. 

“Oh,” Bucky starts, glaring at Steve. “Do you?”

“Yes.” You nod before actually yawning that time. “I’m sorry.”

“You should sleep more,” Bucky comments, watching you shake your head wearily.

“I have things to do,” you defend. “I sleep enough, it’s the stupid car ride, I always fall asleep in cars,” you defend. “But if it pleases you, I’ll sleep the entirety of tomorrow.” Your voice lacks the thick sleeve of satire you tend to use with him, more vulnerable in your exhaustion. Although your request is still sarcastic, Bucky can tell you know you need it.

“It will,” Bucky says.

For the most part, the conversation ends there, the group splitting into their own things during the car ride. After a few minutes, Bucky feels your head fall softly on his shoulder.

He stops paying attention to what Thor is saying, instead focusing on the way you edge toward him in your sleep, nudging your nose into his shoulder. He can see the way your lashes lay on your cheeks when you’re so close and the pretty bridge of your nose.

You’re more open than he’s ever seen you, eyes shut and lips parted with gentle breaths, and he can’t stop staring at you.

Then the car goes over a harsh bump, and Bucky wants to do everything he can to hold you still, but your eyes flutter open and you sit up, meeting his eyes for a second. “Sorry.”

“It's no problem,” Bucky assures, wanting to keep examining the lines of your face, but you clear your throat, looking forward, and Bucky has no choice but to do so too.

-

The surprise Bucky feels when he spots you at the celebration party is no match for the sweet excitement at the bottom of his stomach, immediately pulling his sleeve further down over his arm and brushing away loose strands of his hair. It would be embarrassing how much he cares about what you think of him if it weren’t so ridiculously important to him.

He busies himself with getting a drink for you, finding himself wondering if you’d come before, only to go unnoticed by him. There’s a startling burst of anger at himself with the thought, and Bucky blinks, eyes continuing to drift to you. Resolute, he moves toward you but pauses as he observes you.

The look on your face is one Bucky has never seen before—though he hasn’t seen many looks on your face before—but it settles so naturally on your features that it is difficult to argue that it’s unfamiliar. You look intense, but the way your eyes scan Wanda's boyfriend—who’s been dubbed Vision—is dangerous. Cocky.

You say something and your entire face relaxes resolutely, but your eyes remain expectant and arrogant, unamused with your companion’s reply.

Vision—who Bucky has heard is never wrong—sure seems wrong in whatever argument he’s just lost against you, and you know it.

“How’re my favorite geniuses?” Wanda pipes up suddenly, forcing Bucky’s daze away, appearing from an unknown place to sling an arm around you. You snap out of the look, your face softening, but the pleasure of being right dances across your features. Bucky clears his throat and takes a sip from his beer, stepping toward you.

“Oh, you know, out-geniusing the other,” you reply, glancing at Bucky as he walks up behind Vision.

“Hey Dolly,” he smiles. “I thought you had too many books to read to go out.”

“I finished them all,” you respond. “And ‘Dolly’? How old are you?”

Bucky clicks his tongue. “What would you prefer, sweetheart?”

“My name,” you state, then squint at him, cocking your head. “Do you remember it? I imagine it’s hard to keep track.”

“Of course I remember.” Bucky scoffs. “I don’t think I could forget.”

You breathe out a laugh. “Right, I’d imagine asking her out to swing dance without it would be pretty hard.”

“Are you asking me to swing dance with you?” Bucky retorts.

You snort. “Yeah, sure.”

Bucky holds out his hand expectantly, covered arm at his side.

Your eyes thin resolutely at him, scrutinizing the details of his face before you shake your head. “You’re ridiculous,” you criticise.

His hand drops and he pouts. “C’mon, pretty please.”

“Do you know what music you swing dance to?” you ask him, wagging a finger to refer to the booming music drowning most sounds inside the house. “Because this isn’t it.”

“I need to take advantage of the fact that you’re here, doll. You said so yourself you don’t go out much,” he complains. 

“Yeah, this is why!” you reply, your last words getting louder as the music impossibly gains volume.

“What?!” Bucky shouts, moving closer to hear you better, but you laugh and shake your head, telling him something he can’t make out. When you realize he can’t hear you, you give him a pout.

“And I was just about to say yes,” you say sadly.

“Wha—” Bucky’s cut off by the sharp shattering of glass. With a cringe, your eyes widen as you look behind him, eyes flickering back to him expectantly. He turns and groans. “I have to check that out. I’ll be right back!” he pledges, walking away to see a deadly amount of broken alcohol bottles on the floor, the stench of their contents burning his nose.

When he comes back, you’re gone.

The disappointment that blankets over his shoulders at the fact is just as surprising to him.

-

You’re in your bubble at the library, a little clueless to everything going on around you as you thumb the corner of a page, your pinky hovering below your book’s cover. You’re a few pages away from something exciting, teeth digging in with anticipation for it, when someone enters your field of vision, a large figure plopping down on a seat in front of you.

You spare them a glance and are surprised to find Bucky, sporting a large grin and his varsity jacket. You observe him suspiciously for a few moments, having never seen him even near the library, before returning your attention to what you’re reading.

“So, you’re actually here, huh?” he asks, and you shush him, shooting him a look to lower his voice. “Sorry.”

“Why are you here?” you question lowly instead, still not putting down your book.

“Anyone can come to the library.” Bucky points out, your name playfully scornful. You level a look at him.

“Yes. Why are you here? With me? You didn’t know my name until, like, two days ago.” You’re careful to keep your voice down.

“First of all,” Bucky starts, beginning to list off his fingers. “We met two weeks and three days ago.”

“Did we?” you drone, attempting to concentrate on the lines of your book once more.

“And, how do you know we don’t just have alternating study days?” Bucky points out.

“I am here every day,” you inform. “And if that were the case, why would you be here right now?” you rebut. “What would you be studying for? Coaching?”

“Maybe I wanted to switch things up,” Bucky defends. “And I’m not studying coaching. I’m studying biomedical engineering.”

You meet his eyes at the revelation, unable to keep the surprise off your face. You fold down the edge of the last page you read offhandedly and let your book flutter closed. “What? Quinn said you were in… sports.”

“Well,” Bucky sucks in a breath as if what he’s about to tell you is a revelation. “Soccer is a sport.”

“I know,” you affirm blandly. “But are you actually in biomedical?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nods. “What, do you not believe me?” he asks, raising a gloved hand to his chest. “I must say, I’m very disappointed in you perpetuating harmful stereotypes.”

“I’m just surprised. You’ve never talked about it before.”

“We’ve talked four times,” Bucky points out. “Although I want it clear that I have tried to make it more.”

“Yeah, what’s that about, by the wayt?” you wonder, setting your elbows on the table and dropping your face into your hands, cocking your head at him. “From what I’ve seen, you have your fair pick of girls and guys.”

“I wouldn’t say that—”

You laugh quietly. “Sure.”

“But I like you,” Bucky explains, shrugging. “You’re smart and pretty and you interest me.”

You scan his face, squinting. Astonishment tints your chuckle. “You are so much better at this than I thought you were.”

“Sorry?”

“At first, I was like ‘this guy? This is the Becky people won’t shut up about?’”

“Bucky,” he corrects swiftly.

“But I see it now. The charm. I’m not falling for it, but I see it.” You nod appreciatively and open your book once again to continue reading.

Bucky frowns in front of you, reaching over to insert an abrupt hand in between the pages. “What are you talking about?”

Sighing, you peel his fingers off the pages and meet his eyes, startled to see their intensity, crinkles at their edges, his lips pinched in a pout. You gasp. “Oh my god, you’re doing it now.”

“Sweetheart, it’s something that just happens naturally, I’m not doing anything.”

You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head, turning back to your book. “You are insufferable.”

“And you’re beautiful.”

“And you’re ridiculous.”

“Go out with me, c’mon,” Bucky urges, smiling now. It’s stupidly sweet.

You click your tongue. “Dates are a waste of time.”

“I’ll make it worth it. Promise.”

“I don’t have time to go out with guys I’ve talked to four times,” you explain.

“Alright, so if I talk to you more, you’ll go out with me?”

You wrinkle your nose. “I don’t… I’m not liking where this is going.”

“I will talk to you every single day from now on,” Bucky vows.

“Oh, I was right,” you groan. “I just mean you don’t know me. My favorite color, my favorite book, my order at my favorite restaurant, things like that.”

“I will know all of that,” he pledges.

You laugh disbelievingly. “Okay, Borky.”

A cocky little smirk plays on his lips as he winks. “Bucky,” he says archly.

-

You learn his name. Completely. Totally. Unmistakably. 

It’s hard not to, not when he becomes a constant in your life and not with a name like that.

James Buchanan Barnes. It rolls off your tongue too nicely all of a sudden.

He talks to you every day. Just like he said he would, even if it’s a two-minute conversation over text where he makes sure you get home safe and asks about your day. It would be overwhelming if it didn’t make you smile so much.

He doesn’t get upset when you answer two hours later because you were distracted with work, asking you how Linda the librarian was and if she liked the cookie he got her three days ago.

You relay her enthusiastic message, deciding to brush over the wink and coy smile she sent you at his mention. Then maybe, because you’re finished with your work for the day, you shove aside your notebook and bite back a small smile when he tells you how pretty he thought you looked in the glimpses he had of you today.

Organizing your books into a neat little pile, you message him and Bruce that you’re heading home. And you intend to, you really do, but then Bucky insists you call him the next time so he can walk you home, and you’ve suddenly been sitting at your table, uselessly leaning against your things for ten minutes.

You shoot up when you realize, lightly bewildered with yourself, gathering everything into your arms as quickly as possible, and shoving your phone into your back pocket. You hope Bruce isn’t getting too worried as you push open the library doors, hurrying down the steps and onto the path you usually take. You’re alert as always, careful to listen past the crunching of leaves beneath your feet and watch for shadows that edge past yours, digging your keys out of your pocket to hold them in the spaces between your fingers.

It’s three minutes in when you begin to feel unsettled. Your phone has vibrated three times in your back pocket in the past two minutes, but the darker section of your path is coming up, and chills rush up your neck as you imagine what the distraction could cost.

A shadow follows nearby, inching closer and closer until your hands are shaking and you’re on the verge of running.

Fingers wrap around your arm and you shriek, books slipping from your arms when they wane. Stumbling back, you tug yourself away from the intrusion, breaths coming out in big, wet gasps when you turn. Bucky’s wide blue eyes meet your glossy ones, hands up in surrender when he catches the tremble of your bottom lip.

A tear streaks down your cheek in profusing relief that it’s only him, the anger indistinguishable beneath it as you stumble into Bucky on wobbly knees, his name braided in a whimper. His arms settle around you hesitantly, guiltily.

“You scared me,” you whisper. “Don’t you know not to sneak up on people?”

“I'm sorry,” he replies sincerely. “I didn’t think—”

“I'm just relieved it’s you,” you interrupt, fingers fisting his shirt. You’re far away, stuck in a memory very far away, and yet it feels enough like you’re standing in it. Your grip is a vice, forcing him closer still until the pads of your fingers can feel the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. 

Bucky murmurs your name, a large palm stroking up and down your back in comfort. His voice is mournful. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You snap out of it at the nickname, pulling away from his embrace as if you’d awoken. He doesn’t startle, only stares at the furrow of your brow and the light that reflects off of your cheeks. Swallowing hard, you blink away the rest of your daze, eyes falling on your things scattered on the ground.

“My computer,” you remember, frantically dropping to your knees to search for it.

Bucky doesn’t pry, kneeling next to you to help pick up your books, taking the ones you’d stacked up sloppily into his arms. You carry your laptop with a careful grip, relatively unharmed.

“I should get going,” you tell him, motioning to take your things from him but he refuses, ushering you into his car.

It’s silent for a while after you halfheartedly agree, obviously still embarrassed. Bucky’s hesitant to probe, but the guilt at what he could’ve reminded you of gnaws at his gut.

You can feel his stare each time he glances at you curiously; cautiously, as if you’ll burst into tears spontaneously. 

“I was attacked once.” Your voice is quiet, soft for the obvious teeth the words pierce you with. “Walking home from the library,” you explain. “It’s why Bruce doesn’t like me walking home alone.”

“You… someone…” Bucky pinches his lips into a tense line, fingers tightening around the wheel. “Why?” It’s painfully incredulous.

You look down at your lap, the left edge of your lips pulling into your cheek. “I was alone. It was easy.” What’s left to say seems painful for you to push out. “He didn’t like me very much.”

“I'm sorry,” Bucky offers after a tense second, unsure of what else to say and how angry he can be for you.

“For what? You didn’t have anything to do with it,” you retort, offering him a weak smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“For scaring you,” Bucky insists sincerely. “For the fact that it happened in the first place.” You don’t respond, watching as trees and lights flash past the window.

“It really wasn’t as bad as you think. The label makes it seem worse,” you palliate. “He hit me once and pushed me against a wall. A bruise was the worst of it. Both physically and to my bank account.”

Bucky’s frown stays, quiet blanketing the both of you.

“So, why’d you come get me? How’d you know I was only on my way?” you chime suddenly.

“I wanted to check up on you. You weren’t answering your phone.”

You pause, meeting his eyes with an inquisitive pinch to your features. “So you drove to find me?”

“Technically, I just wanted to drop by your apartment to make sure you got home safe, but that sounds better, so let’s go with it.” Bucky shoots you a grin. An olive branch.

You accept it as you mimic the sweet curve of his lips. “Ah, yes, and that’s how Barnacle gets ‘em. Being charming and funny and sweet—”

He lets a light chuckle slip past his lips, sparing you a delicate glance. You’re already looking at him, softer in your gaze than he’s ever seen you.

He hums inquisitively. “You think I'm charming and funny and sweet?”

You laugh openly, shaking your head but not negating his words. You hug your laptop closer to your chest, constellations reflected in your shadowed eyes as you look through the window. “I think—” you inhale in relief. “We’re here.”

Bucky slows to a stop when he reaches your dorm, shutting off the car and stepping out as you pack up. You only notice his actions when your fingers slip past the handle once you move to open your own door, huffing air out of your nose when he smirks wantonly at you.

“Thank you,” you grunt, climbing out and clutching your things.

You walk ahead, listening to the door slam and the subsequent sound of shoes quick against the pavement until he walks steadily beside you. “So, you wanna do that again soon?”

You laugh, motioning to grab your keys. “Do what again?”

He steals the jingling set from your fingers, moving hurriedly to the door when you make a noise hald surprise half indignation. He jams a silver one in, cringing when it doesn’t fit. You glower as you reach him, eyeing his hands as they continue to shove the wrong key in the lock. “It's the bronze one—no, the other one. How do you not—”

The door swings open, a satisfied smile parting Bucky’s face.

“Thanks,” you sigh, taking back your keys as you step inside. He stands outside awkwardly, kicking a pebble around with his foot. You squint doubtfully at him after you’ve set your things down and he’s not following behind you like you thought he would be. “What’re you doing?”

“You have to invite me in,” he explains.

“What, like a vampire?”

He blinks. “Yeah, like a vampire.”

You grin toothily. “Vucky…” It drips in an exaggerated accent.

“It's cold out here,” he reminds.

“Maybe you should go home then,” you suggest.

His face drops for a second and you find yourself feeling a tug of something sickening at your stomach. Like a reflex, the offer leaves your throat before you can help it.

“Or. Come inside.” At his hesitant posture, you suck in a bubble of air. “Do you want to come in? You’re welcome to.” I want you to.

He stares at you long enough for you to squirm before a smile breaks through his face. “Really?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, flimsy regret already churning in your gut. “Yeah. Just come on in already. It’s cold outside, dummy.”

-

It’s startling the first time you miss Bucky's ever-constant presence.

You’d rather not admit it, but it’s hard not to—not when he finds you between classes to carry your books, teasing you about your lack of a backpack but always leaving you with only your laptop and a pen in hand. You can’t help the smiles when he “coincidentally” bumps into you at your favorite coffee shop enough times to have your order ready when you arrive on your tea day.

His goofy jokes while you study at the library get less annoying and, annoyingly, more endearing. You suddenly know a whole lot about biomedical engineering and Bucky. You know his sister’s favorite color and can spout stories about Steve before he grew five times his size like you were there yourself.

It's infuriating, you think, but you don’t mind as much when Bucky's making you laugh with lovely crinkles at the edges of his eyes.

“I like the ocean,” you say sometime at the library, books spread on the table, ignored. He looks up from his notebook in surprise, putting down the pen you’d lent him two weeks ago. “It’s the reason why my favorite color is blue.”

His own blue glitters as he nods, listening. “‘Thought it was because of my eyes.”

You reward him a laugh and a roll of your eyes. “I really wanted Atlantis to be real when I was little,” you tell him. “And mermaids. Even if they were the ugly ones that murder you,” You confess in a rare moment of transparency, meeting his eyes before you clear your throat, bringing your attention back to your laptop.

“I like space,” Bucky offers. “It's endless.”

You nod in acceptance, clearing your throat as if to rid yourself of what you’ve given him.

“You collect those squished pennies, right?” Bucky asks. 

You’re startled that he remembers, and it takes a second for your brain to catch up. “Uh—yeah. Why?” 

Bucky turns to dig around in his bag, pulling out something small and bronze and shiny with a brilliant smile. ”I went to this little souvenir shop the other day and found one of those machines.” He extends it to you and flips it slowly between his index and middle. “It has a little fuzzy monster thing on it. I don’t get it, to be honest.”

It never crossed your mind that he would do that for you. A startling line of electricity runs up your arm when your fingers meet his, quick to take the penny from him. “Thank you,” you mutter, observing the coin in the light. The large eyes of the embossed little monster stare back at you. “This is really nice of you.”

“It’s not big deal,” Bucky shrugs. “I just thought you’d like it.”

Honey fills your throat. Gulping, you glance at the clock, nearly relieved to see it’s time for you to leave. “I gotta go,” you tell him, gathering your things. The smooth edges of the penny dig into your palm. He stands in tandem, rolling his shoulders.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to,” you begin.

“I want to. Besides, it would kind of feel weird not to after so long.”

You nod along. “Right.” 

He ducks his chin in affirmation, picking up his stuff too. Furtively, he lightens your own load.

You notice but know better than point it out and argue, remembering how you ended up bedrudgingly carrying only a pen last time.

“Does Sam still have your car?” you ask as you leave the library.

“Yup. One more week, he says.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Well, he’s been saying that for two, so…”

You laugh, staring up at a big tree vignetted orange.

Bucky nudges you lightly as you begin to drift away, preventing you from walking into the street. He guides you past a fissure in the sidewalk as you gasp at something in a boutique’s window. “There’s a sale at the bookstore!”

“Wanna go tomorrow?” Bucky asks.

You nod. “Can we?”

“Sure, we’ll just leave the library a little earlier,” Bucky suggests, balancing the books in his arms.

“Someone’s sure of themselves,” you tease. “You’re walking me home tomorrow, too?”

“Of course. I have been for months,” Bucky points out with a shrug.

Your jests die on your tongue as you realize he’s right, the discovery shocking when the memories of your solitary walks are further away than you had thought; suddenly, you remember that the dog you’d pointed out two weeks ago was more for his benefit than yours.

“Weeks,” you argue weakly, throat suddenly dry.

“Weeks could definitely be months,” Bucky reasons. 

You ignore him, stopping in your tracks. “Why?”

A frown tugs at his lips as he pauses as well. “Because weeks add up to months?”

“Why have you been walking me home every day for months?”

“‘Thought it was weeks?”

“Bucky,” you say, a little urgent.

He shrugs boyishly, near flippant but your things in his arms don’t let you believe that. “I don't want you to walk alone.” Then, “I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Shocked pupils dart around wildly and it’s difficult to swallow before you steady yourself, clearing your throat. Your features are pinched in a sort of raw determination—open, honest. “Thank you.”

He smiles and it’s soft as he shrugs lightly, nearly nonchalant.

Before you let yourself get too caught up in the curve of his lips and realize you’ve imitated it unconsciously, you look away, clearing your throat in relief when you spot your door.

“Right. Um, thanks again.” You take your things from him before he can think twice about it, speed walking to your door.

“Wait—” he stammers out, confused and too late when you give him a wave and a quick goodbye before slamming the door shut.

You swallow hard on the other side of the door, wide eyes staring aimlessly into the darkness. In the dreaded stillness, you can feel the heat that creeps up your neck and floods stickily into your face, the prickling static that needles into your palms. Shakily and illicitly, a hand drifts up to your chest, pressing to feel the thundering beating of your heart.

You curse to the silence, letting your eyes flutter shut in candied disappointment.

-

Bucky thinks you’re acting weird.

No—he’s sure you’re acting weird.

He knows you now, can recognize the sarcastic lines of your cheeks when you wrinkle your nose and poke fun at him. He’s memorized the genuine curve of your lips when he’s said something so cheesy it circles around to sweet. He knows you at your angry and at your happy, but he doesn’t know this.

You’re being nice to him. Sticky nice. Not you-nice.

He tries teasing first, poking a pencil into the flesh of your arm and asking if you’d fallen in love or something. You’d scoffed, blinked fast, and swatted him away. But you didn’t say no.

He’s aware he’s a fool to think so large of a lack of something, but he can’t pretend like it doesn’t inspire something in him, something like hope, like nectar, sticky in his throat.

He wonders if it clogs words up in yours—if it’s the reason you’re so quiet.

You stare through your computer, steam from your tea disappearing into the air as you blink. There’s a sweet indent in between your eyebrows, similar to the one you get when you study something you don’t completely understand, usually accompanied by the nail of your thumb between your teeth. But this one is lighter, more unintentional. You’re struggling with something but he can’t figure out what.

Your eyes flicker up to his, glinting in the light when you catch them on you.

“What?” you blurt. It’s louder than you intend, and you purse your lips in that embarrassed way that you do, shrinking down into your seat. “Why are you staring at me?”

“You’re pretty,” he says honestly.

He waits for your usual flustered reaction and you give it to him, but it’s vignetted with something, different in the quick blinks of your eyes and the thumb you brush over your nose. 

“I'm hungry,” you complain, ignoring his compliment.

“I'll buy you something,” Bucky responds immediately, already pulling out his wallet.

“You don’t have to,” you remind. “I wasn’t asking, I was just—”

“I know, it’s fine,” Bucky insists.

“I can pay. It’s my food.”

“It’s just a meal.” He squints at you. “You never pass up a chance of food on me.” He presses the back of his palm against your forehead and leans in closer. “Are you feeling okay?”

You heat up beneath his touch, shaking him off with a scowl. “You make me sound awful. Fine. Buy me my food then.”

Bucky raises his hands in surrender, wallet between his index and middle finger rising with his shoulders. “I will.” He squeezes your shoulder before he walks away, dipping down to your ear to whisper, “And you’re not awful.”

You huff, pinching your lips together as you watch him get in line, nudging his fingers into his wallet to take out money.

Arbitrarily, you’re annoyed. Bucky Barnes is infuriating, with his long charcoal lashes and lilting chuckle and nonchalance in giving things you want without your asking.

Your laptop screen darkens with your lack of attention, and you’re left staring at yourself, scrutinizing the thin lines around your eyes as you squint. You’re being ridiculous; you can’t be angry over Bucky being a sweet guy.

“They musta’ known you were coming,” Bucky whistles, balancing a bowl and a small bag already darkened with grease spots in his arms. You take the bowl from him, warmth seeping into your fingertips.

You furrow your brows at him when you pop the lid off, barely realizing you’d never told him what to get. “You got me cavatappi pasta,” you realize. You look upset.

“Yeah?”

Distressed, you snatch the bag from him, shoving your fingers inside to pull out two large chocolate chip cookies. “And chocolate chip cookies.” Your voice rises and falls with a slightly unhinged twinge, features pulling as you examine what Bucky got for you. Your comfort food; the token you’d never explained to him.

“Yeah. It’s what you always get. And I know you always want two cookies but only get one because you’re afraid you won’t finish it, but we can split it or you can save it, or—what are you doing?”

You sweep everything into your arms, holding the food tightly behind your books.

“I have to go.”

“What? We just got here.”

“I have an appointment.”

“For what?”

“For—things—it’s—” you huff. “I have to go.”

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride? I have my car back, you know,” Bucky offers, already beginning to get up, but you shake your head, his actions hitting something in your chest.

“I'll be fine, thanks for the…” you exhale sharply. “I'll see you later.”

You run off, ignoring his confused call of your name as you slam the door behind you.

Hot soup dribbles down your fingers as you speed walk back home, but you barely notice, struggling to remember why you’d rejected him before.

“I hate him,” you mumble, fully dishonest as you struggle with your keys. “I hate him so much.”

“Hate who?” Bruce asks from the table, sparing you a glance from his computer. His eyebrows join as he takes you in, every panting and crazed inch of you, mouth parting and head tilting. “Uh.”

“Bucky,” you reply, setting the a la carte box down hastily. You drop the cookies next to it.

Bruce stares at you.

You make a big gesture with your hands toward it, pursing your lips. “He bought me that. Just—insisted. He's so—” you sigh frustratedly. “I didn't even—he bought me cookies.”

“Okay.” It's long and hesitant. “And that’s bad because…” he begins to shake his head. “You don’t like cookies?”

Your shoulders drop.

“You hate cookies and pasta. You think they’re awful,” Bruce tries.

“No! I love soup and cavatappi and—he’s ruining everything! He's such an idiot!” you rub your face, nuzzling your nose into the crevice between your joined hands.

Bruce examines you for another second before: “Oh.”

“What?” you snap, meeting amused brown. “What?”

“Nothing,” Bruce muses, but his lips are set in a careful smile, amusement poorly hidden. “Just that you finally learned his name.”

His thoughts are pathetically obvious in his tone, lips in a thin line and eyes crinkled.

“Don’t,” you warn. “Bruce Banner—”

“I didn't say anything.”

“Do not think what you’re thinking,” you demand. “He’s a player and a distraction and—”

“Okay.” Bruce has never been one to argue, but his one word answer makes you more frustrated than anything else he could’ve said.

You puff and gather your food, striding to your room with a glare at your best friend. 

-

For the first time since you met Bucky, you follow through on an excuse to miss the game. It’s not a majorly important one—although Bucky pouts when you tell him either way, insisting that he needs you there for good luck—but you still feel a strange ache at the bottom of your stomach when the game begins and you’re too far away to cheer for him.

The edges of your lips are downturned, brows pinched as you stare at your phone before you realize what you’re doing and snap your attention away.

Scoffing, you shake away thoughts about soccer and the memory of Bucky's sweet blue eyes when he’d teased you, a strange tone of real sadness beneath his playful jests.

You pause, lifting your hands from your computer to eye the time once again. Furtively scanning the work you’re nearly done with, you allow yourself the distraction and grab your phone, fingers dancing in anticipation when your lock screen is littered with icons of messaging apps.

You click Bucky’s name first, smiling softly as you read a quickly typed summary of the game he probably sent after the first half was over. He sounds hopeful and excited, like he always does when he talks abouts soccer, but he signs off with a mispelled reminder that he misses you and a red heart. You check Wanda and Bruce's messages next, your face falling when you learn the second half hadn’t gone as well.

Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you glance at your work again and then at the clock, taking a quick breath before you force yourself to write a quick conclusion you promise yourself you’ll revise when you get home.

The game is over by the time you arrive, easily finding a parking spot in the midst of everyone’s departure. You hear disappointed grumbling as you make your way inside the stadium and cringe, striding toward the locker room.

Your name in Bruce’s voice makes you pause, turning to meet his pulled, bushy eyebrows and pinched lips. “What’re you doing here?”

“I finished early,” you explain. “And you said the game wasn’t going great so I thought I'd come and make sure the team’s okay.”

Bruce's features morph into something like realization and then into his poor poker face, lips pursed so tightly they’re edged white. “Right. The team.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, since it’s the whole team, I should let you know most of them are in the locker room moping, but Bucky wanted to leave early.” Bruce looks pointedly to the right.

“What? Why?”

Bruce shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe he said something about seeing you, but since you’re here for the team—”

“Shut up, Bruce.” You squint meanly at him, making him swallow a laugh as you spin around and continue on your path. 

You bump into Bucky when you turn a corner, familiar hands coming to rest on your arms distractedly before his eyes brighten in recognition. He says your name in surprise, shaking you gently as if to check that you’re real. His hair is damp from the quick shower he’d just taken, dark spots from water droplets around the collar of his gray shirt. He smells like soap and Bucky and it makes you a little dizzy.

“Hey, I heard about the game,” you say. “I wanted to check up on you.”

“Oh. I was just coming to see you. I told you that you were our lucky charm.” Bucky laughs but it’s not completely honest, his disappointment about the loss shining through.

You frown, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, you shove your hands into your coat pockets, pulling out a crinkled baggie in each one. “I brought you something.”

Bucky steps back, eyebrows furrowed as he notices what you’re holding. “Are those orange slices?”

Nervous now, you let your arms drop. “Yeah. I, uh—figured they’d maybe give you a boost and—” You cut yourself off, laughing awkwardly. “It was dumb.”

“My mom used to bring me orange slices after soccer practice,” Bucky mumbles.

You perk up. “Yeah. You told me about that and I thought maybe you’d like them.” The end of your sentence lilts like a question, answered by the quick movements of Bucky's fingers when he takes a baggie from you and pulls it open, taking a slice out to grin happily at it.

He dips his fingers in again and hands another to you, bumping his own small slice against yours. “Cheers.”

As soon as he bites into it, the juice from the fruit runs down his fingers, eyelids falling closed in a delighted hum. You barely realize the sap has streaked sticky orange down your arm, too.

He breathes out your name as he opens his eyes, a dazzling blue in the fluorescent lights of the locker room hall. “I forgot how…” He shakes his head, drifting off, and takes the other bag from you, pulling you to him. He sighs big and warm, rumbling through his chest.

You rub your nose against his sweatshirt, breathing in deeply. There's the fresh scent of citrus and then the lavender body wash you’d bought for him faint beneath his own distinct smell. He thanks you blithely, a lot lighter.

You shrug it off and force yourself to pull away, shivering at the loss even if you initiated it. “Do you want to get something to eat and watch that new episode of The Great British Bake-Off we missed last week?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, hand drifting down to pull yours along. His skin is sticky and sweet against yours, orange juice smearing on your palm, but you can’t find it in you to care.

-

You feel sick when you step outside; a sticky, prickly rush that coats your throat in sap. It’s cold enough to make goosebumps rise on your skin, dark enough for the stars to drown in ink. Any appetite you had disappears, replaced with something clammier and painful, a twisting anxiety as a result of a bad day and a completely avoidable situation.

The bags with your food bump warmly against your knee, plastic handles pulling against the skin of your wrist. If you stay as you are, there will be indents of them once you finally put the bag down. 

Something like dumb, chest-puffed stubbornness tugs incessantly at you when you contemplate calling Bruce to come pick you up, a biting voice snapping pathetic for even thinking about it convincing you to shut the door behind you, locking away the choice of warmth and safety and shame.

It’s very silent when you begin to walk, the crinkling of your bag loud and in tandem with your steps. You let it slide down and hook on your fingers, carefully aware of shadows that might peek out behind yours and off-space footsteps.

Lonely fingers curl in on themselves, missing the comforting frigidity of the keys you’d forgotten at home. Your dying phone vibrates in the tight grip of your hand, spurring your steps faster. A dark lump appears on your shadow’s shoulder, and you freeze, spinning around violently to face the street, empty behind you.

You turn back around hesitantly, breath trembling. You could’ve sworn you felt someone else behind you.

Eyes rounded and wet, you begin to walk again, feeling an uncomfortable heat in the space where your ribs meet. Your required cognizance turns frantic, making your fingers shake and oxygen difficult to get into your lungs. There’s an echo to your footsteps. When you blink, there’s the ghost of an unforgiving hand on the back of your neck, the sharp slam of your jaw against brick. You gasp when you open your eyes again, a hand flying to the aching skin of your neck as you spin.

Your eyes promise that there’s no threat lurking behind darkness, but your mind blares with an assurance that there is. Ducking behind a wall, you scramble for your phone, cheeks cold with air-slapped tears as you press the call button for the first contact your fingers find.

Bucky’s voice is confused and comforting when he answers.

“I think—I think someone is following me,” you whimper, pulling your legs to your chest. Your food warms the side of your thigh. 

“What? Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “I’m sorry, I should, it’s just—I was walking home from the restaurant and I heard something and I can’t concentrate, I can’t breathe—”

“Okay, it’s okay. Try to breathe, okay? Can you tell me what restaurant it was?”

You can picture the glowing sign, the faded wallpaper, the flowered curtains, but you can’t think, barrelling you deeper into panic. “I can’t remember—I—”

You can hear Bucky open his door. “Hey, it’s okay. Were you eating there or picking up to go?”

“To-go,” you answer tearfully, concentrating on the box pressing into your flesh.

“Okay. For you and Bruce or just you?”

“B-both of us.”

“You’re doing great, sweetheart. Try to take deep breaths, I think I—”

There’s a hollow click before it’s silent, the calm you’d been grasping at completely gone. “Bucky?” you plead. “Bucky?”

You pull your phone away from your ear, vision going blurry when you tap desperately at the screen and it doesn’t respond. Dead.

There’s a tremendous weight on your chest, your elbow knocking against the wall behind you with your attempts to draw in a breath. You shove your head in between your knees and try to remember Bucky’s voice, forget the cold fear that another clammy hand will reach for your hair and tug you up.

You need to get home. You can’t move.

You stifle your sobs with your leg, clawing at your shins and trying to think of anything else. You shove your hand in between your stomach and your legs, letting your phone fall to your thighs as the tips of your fingers reach the round hills of your collarbone. Your palm digs into your flesh until the beating of your heart pulses against your thumb, aching when you force it to stay put.

Thump, thump. “O-one,” you force, restraining your fingers from curling. Thump, thump. “Two.” A deep, shuddering breath that makes your mouth snap closed and your eyes flutter into darkness. Thump, thump. “Three…”

It’s how Bucky finds you, your nose deep between your knees, counting watery and muffled. He’s frantic when he sees you, panic like needles against his chest prickling to a pounding ache. He should be more cautious, stand still a few feet away for a few seconds, step slowly. If he were a little less in love, maybe he would; but he’s not, and the relief that you’re solid and no longer a tenuous voice on his phone is too much a relief.

He calls out your name and rushes forward, lowering himself down to his knees before he touches your arm. You flinch, shoving a strong hand against him, a horrible mix of anger and fear contorting your voice.

“It’s me. It’s Bucky.”

You still push yourself back against the wall, but your eyes finally meet his. “Bucky,” you test. “Bucky.”

It’s a silent, cold beat before you blink clearly, irises looking back a little less hazy. You murmur his name once more and promptly burst into tears, launching yourself into his chest. His arms wrap around you in tandem, pleasing the closeness your fisted fingers crave. He takes in your tears, steadily smoothing a hand over your back, desperation in the way he hooks his chin over the crown of your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks too soon.

You make a noise of which answer he can’t be sure of, so he gathers you up in his arms to push you away, only a little, only for a second to stare at you.

You grip at his shirt, cheeks shiny. And then, “I thought I was really gonna die this time.” Hearing your admittance causes a shift on your face, still crumpled and unready to deal with this. “Just for a second and—” Your lips twist to keep words back. 

Bucky pulls you back in.

“Will you take me home?”

His compliance is wordless and patient, hooking a finger through your takeout and grasping your hand with his free one, guiding you to his car. He helps you inside, setting the bag at your feet before he buckles your seatbelt and pushes strands of hair away from your sticky face.

Your breathing steadies while he drives, concentrating on the cool puffs of air hitting your collarbone, the lingering warmth from the food you’re suddenly starving for. But the wash of panic has left a shameful residue and a subsequent otiose apology on your tongue, making the once comforting silence expectant.

Your chest weighs when you finally spot your door, fighting to pull words from your mouth at the dimmed lights, but Bucky beats you to it, clearing his throat without unlocking the door. His left hand lays clothed on his lap, face stormed with uncertainty, but there’s a resolute edge that makes him look at you.

“I’m sorry,” you start, misunderstanding.

“Why?”

You aren’t sure, only certain of how guilty you feel. “For… bothering you. For making you comfort me. I’m sorry that you had to see me like that."

“Don’t apologize.” He clenches his jaw. “I don’t want you to…”

He shoves his sleeve up, taking a deep breath as he pinches the fingertips of the glove. “I know that wasn’t something you were ready to share with me. I understand, I…”

His gaze is heavy, flickering between your face and the fingers peeling away his glove. He swallows hard when it’s pulled off completely, looking away from the sight of his skin.

You can’t help the way your eyes track down his arm. It’s scarred with angry raised lines, ending at his fingertips and disappearing into his shirt sleeve. 

“I was in a fire once,” he says. “‘Got some scars too.”

“Is that why you wear—” You trail off at his nod. “Why are you… why are you telling me?” you ask, wincing at how the question sounds, but Bucky seems to understand what you mean.

He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he lies.

You blink at him, slipping a sure hand into his and squeezing. “Thank you.”

His eyes stay startled on your interlocked fingers, stubborn even beneath his gaze. He laughs hollowly then, squeezing back before he finally meets your eyes. “You, too.”

-

Your fingers are wound tightly around Wanda’s arm, the nails digging into her sweater giving away what your face is trying to hide. You’re zeroed in on Bucky's figure as he runs across green after blurry white.

The energy from the others who cheer in the stands makes you buzz, a rush of confidence urging you to jump to your feet when Bucky passes the ball to Pietro and then has it once again, close enough to the other team’s goal to make you clench a hand in anticipation.

With the flesh of your thumb between your teeth, you can’t help but lose your breath when it looks like Bucky's going to try to make it, only for it to be knocked out from your lungs when he crashes to the ground from the impact of another player.

Your mouth parts in a surprised o, tongue playing his name before you can stop it.

It's eerily silent in the stadium for a second as Bucky lies on the field, before it disappears into a fold of angry screams.

You’re not worried.

Bucky has never gotten hurt on the field before—”I’m too good,” he had promised you with an uneven grin, annoying in the way that he’s right—and the only times it’s seemed otherwise have been lies, a mere play he put on for the free kick. He had shaken his head disappointedly at you when you’d gotten worried, condemning you for not trusting him. He’s playful when he’s flustered.

So you’re not worried, because you know Bucky is fine.

Except he hasn’t moved in a little while too long and you don’t think it’s ever taken him this long to fake it. Although, maybe it feels longer because you can’t take your eyes off his figure.

You’re not worried.

Your fingers say otherwise, thumb tapping against your alternating fingers so frantically they get jumbled together, clumsily bumping into the crevices between them.

“Is he hurt?” Wanda asks.

“No,” you say automatically, stretching your fingers out like a starfish as if to rid evidence of your anxiety. “No, he’s fine.”

It's another moment that seems too long and the lines of Wanda’s worried face deepen, breaths a little faster. “He's not… he’s not getting up.”

“He’s fine,” you insist. “He has to milk it.” Glancing up at the timer, you nod definitively. “Yes, he has to milk it to get the penalty kick.”

“What?” Wanda asks, meeting your eyes in confusion.

“The hit didn’t seem that bad,” you lie unsteadily. “He has to milk it. He’s fine.”

Your panic escapes in the highs of your voice, something translucent hiding it when you clear your throat. He's still not getting up and it makes your breath comes out quickly. “He has to be,” you admit.

Wanda’s brows furrow, eyes searching your face once Bucky finally limps weakly to his feet, giving the ref a short nod. A sigh large enough to make you bend slips past your lips, caught in a relieved laugh as you gesture to him.

“I told you,” you tell her.

“He’s limping,” she points out.

“It’s fake,” you assure, fingers digging round shadows into your temples. “He’s doing his hero face, he’s completely fine.” It comes out more relieved than you thought it would.

He gets his penalty kick, makes it, of course, and it’s another few, a lot slower minutes before the game is over, but you’re making your way down thirty seconds before, too much attention on the game rather than your footing on the stairs.

You stumble over your feet, barely caring when the whistle blows to indicate the game is over, and turn in the direction of the hall to the locker room. Your anxiety nearly seems silly now, not as oppressive now that the soaked towel you’d been waterboarded with was dry. Yet, it still prickles at your fingertips, faint but enough to ache.

It's only a couple minutes before you can hear the pattering of feet, the stress that the outliers are Bucky, limping like he did on that field, nudging at your mind. The players wave at you, surprised, and your heart grows heavier and heavier with each passing team shirt that does not have “BARNES” on the back.

Then he’s there, completely fine and near the end of the line. He's grinning at the apparent win, letting Steve shove him proudly. His eyes widen in surprise when they catch sight of your own, saying something to his teammates without looking at them as he steps toward you.

“Hey, what’re you—”

Unable to help yourself, you throw your arms around his neck, the prickling disappearing the moment you touch him. He is hot and solid in your arms, but most importantly completely fine.

“Hey,” he coos, hugging you back.

You allow him a moment before you pull back abruptly and smack his arm.

“Ow!” he complains, grabbing your hand.

“You asshole! What’s up with the drama?”

“What, did I scare you?” Bucky teases, smirk dropping when your deadpan doesn’t glitter with playfulness. “Doll?”

“You took your sweet time getting back up,” you continue, ignoring his words. “You’ve never taken that long.” You’re alone in the hall now, eyes frenetic over his figure.

He softens then, chin pulling closer to his neck so his eyes can give you a reassuring smile. “Hey,” he says softly, tapping your wrist with his index, “‘m fine.”

“I know,” you contend, but it comes out a little relieved at hearing it in his voice. “I told Wanda that.”

His cheeks apple at your statement, amusement twinkling back in his eyes. “Of course. My girl knows I can't get hurt.”

You scoff at the term of endearment, nervous energy dissolving. “I'm not your girl.”

“Not yet!” he proclaims.

You wrinkle your nose, stepping away from him. “You stink. Go shower.” You pat his shoulder as a goodbye, beginning to head back out.

“Sure know how to charm a guy,” he mumbles, watching you walk away with a dopey smile.

-

You’re in your room, laying on your stomach with your computer in front of you and a drink Bucky had bought for you sitting on your bedside table.

He's sitting against your bed, scanning over a document. You should be doing something like it, but you can’t help but be distracted. He's quiet for once, features set in something not playful and not serious, a small knot between his brows indicating his concentration.

He looks pretty. You can’t be blamed.

If he notices your gaze, he’s kind enough to not point it out, although it’s unlikely. It’s undoubtedly heavy.

He’s staring down at his hand when he speaks up for what seems like the first time since hes arrived. His fingers dance nervously before he shoves them away from his view, edges of thick tissue peeking out as a bracelet on his wrist. “Do I make you uncomfortable when I flirt?”

You blink owlishly at him, unsure how to answer. He sounds so serious, guilty. “No.”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop.”

“I know you would. But it doesn’t. Is something wrong?”

Bucky cringes. “You don’t really flirt back. I just want to make sure it’s not because I make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t! I just… don’t really flirt. I don’t really think there’s a point if I’m not dating.”

“You don’t date?” He’s known this. To a point, which he thinks is not completely accurate now that he hears the way you say it.

“No.”

“Not even guys you like?”

“Especially guys I like, ” you clarify, cringing with the difficulty of putting so many feelings into so insignificant words. “Things get messy. It’s just… distractions and it’s never worth it.”

“You think love isn’t worth it? That it’s a distraction?”

You shoot him a look, huffing a little disappointedly, as if you’d expected him to understand something and he didn’t. “Why do people always twist my words into something so cynical?

I didn’t say that. Not love. I never said love, I just—it never ends well. It’s always something you pour so much into and get so little back.”

Bukcy shifts. “That’s not true. A relationship is fair, or at least, it’s supposed to be.”

“Ah, but see, ‘supposed to be’ and ‘is’ are two different things. I’d rather just skip the entire thing.”

Bucky frowns. “I don’t think you should.”

“You don’t think I should?”

“I don’t… I’m not telling you what to do, but I really think you should try. Love can be really great. And you deserve that.”

Your nails pinch at your fingers. “But what if it isn’t?”

“Then it isn’t.” You move to rebut, but Bucky continues. “But what if it is?”

You refuse to answer, chewing on your bottom lip.

Bucky gazes at you, waiting for a response before he realizes he won’t get one. He doesn’t push, turning back to his work.

“Why do you care so much?” you ask.

He sucks in a breath before admitting, “Mainly because I think you would really enjoy being loved. And very partially because I’m selfish.”

You hum. “You’re a really good guy, Bucky.”

“I try.”

You scowl lightly. “Incorrigible. Annoying. But really good.”

Bucky laughs. “Don’t forget—what was it you said about me? Charming? Sweet? Hand-to-heart hilarious?”

You launch a pillow at his head. “Nuisance is what I should’ve said.”

“Mm, a little contradictory but what’s life without some juxtaposition? Maybe I’m a man of many talents.”

The tip of your index finger shoves into his arm.

You fall into a peaceful silence once again when the laughter dissolves, your fingers busy away at your keyboard. There's a moment where you’re thinking, staring intently just past your computer and Bucky is staring at you, a thoughtful expression on his face, stony and all.

“Will you?”

It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to you. “Will I what?”

“Give it a chance.”

You want a moment to ponder it, because you know the right answer but you aren’t sure if you want to pick it. “Give what a chance?” you play dumb, but he doesn’t buy it.

You look to your side, unfocused eyes lazy on an ugly painting.

“Yeah, maybe.” You want to tell him it depends who it is, that you have very strict rules mentioning annoying brunets with blue eyes who walk you home from the library and never shut up, but you don’t, eyes travelling back to him slowly. His silence when they finally meet his own tell you he knows anyway.

Quickly looking back down, you avoid his gaze and continue to work.

-

You melt into his side, delightfully prickling when you lean in a little closer to take a sip of your drink. Eyes shimmering in the lame lights of the bar, you’ve never looked so openly bright, hardly containing your delight and everything you can spilling past anyway.

There are enough people in the place for it to feel rightfully uncomfortable, sweat-sticky skin bumping into the arm he has around your chair and making the heat rise, but Bucky can’t seem to notice.

It would feel plain ignorant to do so—to not focus completely on the stitched pride in the dips of your smile or the warmth of your palms as they splay flat on his arm.

It’s not enough to just have your fingers tug at him during conversations with strangers, he feels he should imprint the feeling of your touch like a branding.

You say his name in conversation, cruelly dragging your hand down to bracelet around his wrist and squeezing. You make a little shimmy with your shoulders that can’t help but make him laugh. He zeroes in on your lips, trying to make sense of what you’re saying.

You’re cute. You’re too sweet to be in this stuffy bar with him.

You turn to him brightly in the midst of another exclamation and he feels himself transported.

He can feel the end buzzer vibrating up to his fingertips, the breeze on the heat of his skin when he’d looked up, eyes searching for you like a habit. 

Your features are shrunken into the memory, suddenly far away but still pulled into the biggest beam you could muster, hands clapping ecstatically.

“Bucky,” memory-you says liltingly, too clearly.

When he blinks, he’s back in the present, the tip of your index dimpling his bicep, your face close enough for him to count each individual eyelash. He grins without really thinking about it. “Bucky,” you repeat, a little harsher but still teasing.

“Yeah?” he responds finally.

“We’re complimenting you and you aren’t paying attention? Are you feeling okay?” you frown, lips downturned but the edges of your eyes still crinkled with happy lines. The back of your hand meets his forehead.

“Fantastic,” he says, his left hand vining up to hook around your fingers and lay them on his lap. “Just won a game, didn’t you hear? All by myself, too.”

You shake your head at him, turning back to who Bucky realizes is one of your friends. Carol, you’d said.

“See?” You say accusatorily. 

Carol grins. “Yeah. Kind of hard not to when you describe it so thoroughly.”

That catches Bucky’s fluttering attention, an eyebrow shooting up questioningly in your direction. Your lips part in betrayal at Carol, and you begin to take your hand back from Bucky, but he hooks your wrist before you can. 

“I think Maria is calling you,” you tell her. “You should go see what that’s about.”

“Now, now,” Bucky starts. “Actually, I think I want to know how thoroughly you talk about me, sweeheart.”

“That's my cue,” Carol laughs, dipping a beer at you both. “I'll see you guys later. Congrats on the game.”

She bounces to her feet and takes off, leaving the two of you alone. Bucky nudges a finger in between your ribs, making you jump and swat at him. “Hey!”

“You talk about me to your friends?”

You stare at him, bottom lip pushing out defensively in your tipsiness. “Well, the star football player is one of my best friends, shouldn’t I be allowed to brag?”

“Best friend, huh? Bruce gonna be jealous?”

You wave him off, making a small, stubborn sound. “He ought to get over it with how much he ditches me.”

“See, I would never.” Bucky presses his free hand to his heart in oath. “Star football players are very reliable. Scoring goals, keeping plans, etcetera.”

You grin at the reminder, something sparkling beneath your skin like static, jolting your fingers when it begins to brim. You splay an excited palm on his shoulder out of pure excitement, seeming to relive the night.

“I am so proud of you,” you say. Saccharine, words stout with a smile and pride. “You did so well today.”

You’re startlingly genuine, entirely proud. Bucky can’t bring himself to tease or flirt.

“Thank you.”

You smile prettily, the light in your irises shifting at his authenticity. “I am,” you insist.

You just want to tell him, for him to hear you and understand how much you mean it. Your pupils flicker to a spot above his shoulder, distant for a second as your face brightens more. You laugh disbelievingly.

“I don't know all that much about football but from what I do, you’re certifiably extraordinary.” You sound out the word, unwilling to mess it up when you mean it so much. You try again. “You made a really great play.”

“Impossible,” Bucky corrects completely unsubtly, but it’s soft, blurred by yellow light from above and buzz from you.

You observe him for a second. “I think you’re amazing,” you say thoughtfully, not in an effort to compliment but in a sort of realization. “What… type of person…” you start but don’t continue, tongue unable to keep up with everything running through your mind. The walks home, the paid lunches, the attention, the ability. 

You inhale sharply, as if realizing you’re drifting off and trying to pull yourself back in.

Bucky knows what you expect—what he expects of himself—but he can’t bring himself to tease you, reiterate your words with an artful curve of his lips. He can’t concentrate enough to ignore the prickly warmth at the bottom of his stomach. He glances down at his watch.

“Should we go?” he says instead, casual but urgent. “It's late.”

He stands before you can process his offer, still a little drunk from stolen sips but only enough to make contrasts lighter. You blink up at him from your seat for a second before nodding, two short, stressed lines between your brows. He shouldn’t have been so abrupt.

Kinder, he helps you from your seat and guides you toward the door, keeping you away from stray elbows with benevolent redirection.

Your breath curls visibly in the air when you step outside, white and dissolving until it is replaced by another, longer exhale. You wrap your arms around your torso.

“C'mon,” he urges, guiding you to his car. “Let’s get you warm.”

“Should you be driving?” you ask as he searches his pockets for the keys, standing at the car door, watching him. “And what about the others?”

“Didn’t drink,” he answers, patting his coat pockets until he finds what he’s looking for.

You frown, slowly running through the night and realizing he’s right, recalling the sparkling water dripping moisture next to his jacket sleeve. The cold and the ennui knock a lot into focus.

He clicks open the car. “And this’ll force ‘em to call an uber. Worst comes to worst, I’ll drop by later to force them home. I just want to get you home first. No drunk footballers to puke on your feet.”

He rounds around to meet you, opening the door, and waiting patiently.

“Why didn’t you drink?” you ask. You’ve seen him drink before, tipsy in that breezy way where he’s a little flirtier with a little less filter. “You won a game. If you ever deserved it, it’s now.”

“I had to be able to drive you back.” He shrugs, cocking his head in the direction of the open car door. “Speak of the devil,” he starts pointedly, reminding you of your frigidity.

Still contemplating, you climb inside with furrowed brows, following Bucky's figure as he shuts your door, jogs back to his side, and settles into the driver’s seat. Rubbing his hands together, he turns to look at you. 

“You okay?” he asks.

“Uh huh.”

He clicks his tongue. “Look at that. I think you’re a little drunker than I thought.”

“I am not,” you argue, looking down at yourself and seeing nothing wrong until Bucky reaches over to pull your seatbelt over you. “Oh.”

Bucky breathes out a little laugh, amused.

“I'm just…” You contemplate for a second, sinking into the rumbling of the engine when Bucky turns the car on. Immediately, heat slaps your nose. The glass meets your temple bitingly, jolting your sentence back on track. You turn to see Bucky's attention already on you. “Happy.”

“You’re happy?” Bucky repeats pleasantly, shifting the gear into drive.

“Yes. It was a good day today.” 

You feel clearer now, the edges of reality crisper as you look out the window. “I know I already said it, but I'm really proud, Bucky. You win games and ace tests and don’t celebrate with a drink to drive me home. You’re kind of great.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, glancing at you.

You hum an affirmation, inhaling deeply. At some point, Your few-sip buzz dissipated into something different.

Sober, but influenced on the darkness of the sky and the roundness of the moon. It feels safe suddenly, a rush of energy jolting you straight. You stare at Bucky's profile. “Yeah,” you confirm clearly. “It's kind of disappointing, you know.”

Bucky is caught off guard, sparing you a look when he stops at a stoplight. “What?”

“I just thought you’d be different.”

“How?” His brows are furrowed.

You take a moment to ponder. “Not so… you. More of the unforgivably arrogant and ignorant jock variety.”

“So you were expecting me to be one of those cartoon stereotypes?” he teases, looking back at the road with an easier smile.

“Kind of,” you laugh. “But you’re not and that’s really great.”

The red light from outside drapes over his features, pulled as he searches the crevices of your face. In response, it slackens slowly, from thoughtful to a little dazed as you stare back. Without meaning to, you’re leaning in at the same time he is.

His skin flips green.

You fall away from him with a surprised exhale, blinking in confusion.

It takes a second for Bucky to look away after you have, and you consider yourself lucky there’s no one else on the road during the long moment it takes for his attention to switch back to driving.

He doesn’t want to just forget what happened. He doesn’t want to move on from this yet. “What does that mean?” he asks, your compliment playing on repeat in his mind.

You stay silent, trying to figure it out yourself. “I don't… I don’t know.”

He tries to remain unbothered, glancing at you once more to catch your focus unmovingly on him. He pulls into your driveway and turns off the car.

“What about going on a date with me?” he requests, a little more serious that usual but glazed in his usual tone. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he continues.  “I'll dress up in that shade of blue you think I look so good in and we’ll go out to eat at that little hole-in-the-wall restaurant I'm still impressed you found. You’ll order that same thing you always do, and we can talk about that novel you’re reading—”

He doesn’t wait for the answer you’ve given before, stepping out of the car and striding over to your side.

You gaze up at him when he opens your door, your buckle unclasped in your hand. He's kind as he always is as he helps you out, hands settling on your shoulders to steady you when you nearly trip over a ridge in the sidewalk.

“Or… or we could go take a walk around the park. Or go to the movies, or the amusement park, or do laundry or taxes or—anything as long as it’s with you.”

And maybe it’s the easy smile, with the glitter of gold pride still sewn into his lips, or the genuine kindness he’s never failed to show you under the mask of the moon. Maybe it’s the proximity. Maybe you just can’t help yourself anymore. You kiss him.

He’s frozen for a solid moment, thick enough for you to start doubting yourself, beginning to pull away when he finally reacts, practically melting into you as his hands frantically pull you closer.

He pulls away hesitantly, torturously, a second later, eyes scrutinizing. “Wait, wait, wait, are you drunk?”

You shake your head, laughing gently at the thumb that pulls gently at the skin beneath your eye to make sure, urgently tugging you back into the kiss when he’s satisfied.

“‘Had to make sure,” he mumbles against your lips. “This can’t happen when you aren’t you.”

“It’s me,” you promise, pulling back. Before you can delve into your mind too deeply, you nod suddenly. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah, okay what?” he repeats, chasing after you to kiss you a few more times.

“I'll go out with you.”

His smile drops, fingers tightening around your hips. “Wait, really?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You grasp his arms tightly. “I should at least try, right?”ey

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Playing with Fire: The House

Fandom: Marvel (Dad’s Best Friend AU)

Pairing: DBF!Bucky x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad's coworker and best friend, Bucky, decides to tag along with you on your errands after your boyfriend bailed on you last minute.

A/N: This was long overdo! But here's the last part of Playing with Fire! Reader is in her mid/lates 20s. Bucky is in his early 40s!

Warning: smut - oral (f receiving), p in v

The Book Store | The Photobooth | The Restaurant

After your errands and lunch with Bucky, he drives you guys back to your house. When you enter, your dad is sitting on the couch watching tv.

"Hey! Get everything done?"

You nod, "Yup! Buck was surprisingly very helpful," you playfully nudge the older man and he snorts.

"Well, she was being a brat the entire day."

You slap his arm, "Was not!"

Bucky chuckles, "Okay, okay. You weren't." he looks to your dad, "It was a good day. Things go okay at the office?"

Your dad lets out a deep breath, and holds up the beer in his hand, "This is my second beer of the day, so that should tell you how it went."

"Yikes," Bucky mumbles and joins your dad on the couch.

As you go through the stuff you purchased today, you pull out the DVD Bucky bought earlier, "Oh! Bucky found this movie at Carol's bookshop," you toss it to Bucky, who handed it to your dad.

"Woah! I haven't seen this movie in forever!"

You snort at your dad's excitement, "I guess I'll go change, make some popcorn and we can watch it?"

"Sounds good," your dad responds and looks at Buck, "You stayin'?"

He shrugs, "Yeah, I guess I'll stay around you losers for a little longer," he looks over at you and gives you a wink. You roll your eyes at him and head to your room to change into something more comfortable.

When you come back down, Bucky's in the kitchen grabbing himself a beer. You walk past him to grab a bowl and a bag of popcorn. He glances your way and then doubles back.

His eyes rake your body as you wear tight work out shorts and a thin strapped tank top. You're standing in front of the microwave, waiting for the popcorn to pop.

With a quick glance at your dad in the living room, Bucky moves to stand behind you, placing his hands on your hips. You gasp in surprise and hiss, "Bucky-"

He leans in, lips hovering over your ears and he whispers, "You look so fucking good in this outfit." He immediately pulls away and you spin to look at him. He gives you a smirk and a wink, exiting the kitchen as if nothing happened.

You let out a deep breath, mentally cursing yourself and your dad's best friend for getting you riled up.

You shake off the tingling sensation you felt when Bucky held you and whispered in your ear. No. You can't do this. You can't feel this way. You have a boyfriend!

When the microwave beeps, you immediately pull it out and dump the contents into a large bowl. You grab a water bottle for yourself and head into the living room.

Bucky and your dad sit on opposite ends of the couch, leaving the middle for you. You turn off the lights and plop in between them. You pull a blanket over yourself, the bowl of popcorn nestling in your lap, "Okay, ready!"

Your dad pushes play and the movie begins. Bucky immediately stretches his arms out and rests one along the couch, practically hovering over your shoulders.

You immediately shoot him a look and he just shrugs, turning his attention to the tv. The movie is an action comedy. The dialogue and humor is dated, but you still find it enjoyable. Bucky and your dad laugh throughout the movie. You chuckle at some points, but you're mainly there for the vibes.

Halfway through the movie, your dad loudly yawns and apologizes. You pause the movie, "You can head to bed if you want. It's getting late anyways."

He glances at the time and frowns, "It's only 9:30."

"Isn't that late for you old guys?" you ask with a smirk.

Bucky snorts and your dad chuckles, "Alright, you brat," he says affectionally, "I'm surprised you're not tired from running all over town with Bucky."

You shrug, "My youthful energy keeps me up."

"Hm, well, I am exhausted from work today, so I'll head to bed early," he points at Bucky, "See you tomorrow. Don't let this one," he points at you, "Bully you like she does to me."

Bucky gives a salute, "I'll keep her in check. Good night, man."

"Night, Buck," your dad pecks a kiss to your head, "Good night. Behave. Don't stay up too late."

"Got it! Night, dad!" you give him a wave and watch as he heads to his bedroom. You continue the movie, eyes glued to the screen.

The hair raises on the back of your neck as Bucky's fingers start drawing shapes along your shoulder.

"Bucky-"

"I'm not doin' anything, sugar. Be a good girl and watch the movie."

You bite back a moan. The way his voice was low and rasp when he said that, it definitely aroused you and you mentally scold yourself for it.

Bucky leans in as he grabs some popcorn from the bowl on your lap. He takes this opportunity to scoot closer to you.

You do your best to watch the movie but you don't even know what's been happening for the past few minutes.

Bucky leans in again and smells you, murmuring against your skin, "You smell so good, sugar. So sweet," his fingers play with the thin strap of your top, "Bet you taste sweet too."

You turn to him with a glare, "Bucky, stop. I have a boyfriend. I know you don't think he treats me right or whatever, but this needs to stop. I know you're trying to prove a point but I just-fuck."

Bucky immediately drops the act. He looks at you with remorse, "I'm sorry. I-I was pushing your boundaries and that was wrong of me." he distances himself from you, "I just," he pauses and runs a hand down his face, "You're a beautiful, smart, and sweet young woman. You deserve to be properly loved and cared for. This John guy doesn't seem like he's doing that for you. I just want you to know that you deserve better." he promptly stands from the couch, "I think I should head out now. I am sorry, sugar, truly." He gives you a nod then lets himself out of your house. You slump into the couch and bring a pillow to your face, screaming into the fabric.

_______________________________

A Week Later

You're annoyed. You're annoyed with yourself, with John, but most importantly, Bucky.

Bucky was right and you kind of hate him for it. John treated you like shit and what's even worse is while you were out running errands with Bucky and mentally scolding yourself for finding your dad's best friend attractive, John was fucking some other woman behind your back! He'd been cheating on you this entire time and you defended him when Bucky opposed him.

Ugh. What a fucking mess.

You're so upset and annoyed with Bucky that you drive over to his place to tell him so.

Your chest his heaving as you waltz up to his door and knock hard.

And of fucking course, he answers the door wearing a tight tshirt and gray sweatpants. He looks at you confused, "Sugar? You okay?"

You push past him, entering his home, "No, I'm not okay! I'm so annoyed with you!"

He cocks a brow, crossing his arms over his chest, causing the fabric of the sleeves to hug his biceps even more, "What did I do?"

"You were fucking right! John wasn't treating me well and he certainly didn't care for me as much as he said he was because he was fucking cheating on me!"

Bucky looks at you confused, "Wait, so your now ex-boyfriend cheated on you, yet you're upset with me?"

"Because you were right and I was feeling guilty for finding you attractive while I was still with John but that didn't even matter 'cause he was cheating on me a majority of our relationship!"

Bucky tries to hold back a smirk and you groan, "Stop that! Stop looking so fucking hot and riling me up! I hate it! I hate that now I see you as someone more than just my dad's best friend! I hate that I see you as this older guy who's smart and funny, annoying but handsome, dorky and also sexy and it frustrates me!"

Bucky licks his lips and steps closer to you, "Then why don't we do something about that frustration, sugar?"

Fire. You're playing with fire. This is your dad's best friend and yet you can't help but want him. You are a moth and Bucky is a flame and you're desperate for his warmth and glow.

"Fuck it," you mumble before pulling him by the back of his neck, pressing your lips to his.

Bucky doesn't hesitate to deepen the kiss. He grips you by the waist, pulling you closer. His hands move back to grip your ass, causing you to moan into the kiss.

He pulls away just enough to murmur, "You sure about this?"

You look into his bright blue eyes and smirk, "Show me how a real man fucks, Bucky."

You watch as his eyes dilate and he practically growls, "With pleasure." He takes your hand pulling you straight to his bedroom. You've been everywhere in his house when you and your dad come over, but you've never been inside his room.

It's just like the rest of his house, dark colors, photos and knick knacks scattered around. Some paintings that his friend Steve had done, donning the walls.

You don't get much time to take in the room because Bucky picks you up and tosses you onto his bed. You giggle as you bounce a bit.

He falls to his knees, his hands sliding up your legs, "I'll treat you like a fucking queen, sugar. Show you how you're supposed to treated." he tugs down your leggings, tossing them to the floor.

He teases you through your underwear. He smirks as he feels how wet you are already, "Already soaking for me, baby? That's what I do to ya, huh?" He pulls you closer to him by the ankles. He presses a kiss over your clothed core and you whine.

"Buck, please."

"Whatcha want, pretty baby? Hm? Use your words?"

"Fuck me with your tongue. Please? I wanna feel your mouth on me."

He chuckles, "Whatever the lady wants, she gets," he quickly pulls off your underwear. Unbeknownst to you, he pockets the garment. He brings you even closer, your thighs sandwiching his head. He spreads you open and licks a stripe up your slit, causing your breath to hitch.

He moans as he tastes all of you, his tongue delving deep inside to then circle around your clit. Bucky watches you with hooded eyes as you grip his bedsheets in pleasure. Your back arched, eyes closed, and mouth open. You look like a goddess.

While Bucky's runs circles along your clit, he slowly inserts a finger into you. He pumps the digit in a slow rhythm which causes you to grind up into his face. You crave more and Bucky happily provides. He inserts another finger and you moan curses, paired with Bucky's name.

His fingers and tongue work in tandem together. You feel that pleasure building up inside you more and more.

You're crying out to Bucky, begging for more, desperate to cum for him.

"Shit! Bucky!" his name is the last thing on your lips as you gush around his fingers. He takes it all, happily so, as your legs shake around him.

When your body stills, he slowly lowers your legs onto his bed. And he stands, lapping up his fingers while taking in your spent figure.

"I was right," he says.

You look at him in a post-orgasmic haze, "About?"

"You taste just as sweet as you are."

You roll your eyes at him as he pulls off his shirt and pushes down his sweats. He crawls onto the bed, body hovering over yours, "You still want to do this? There's no going back after this."

"Please, Bucky. Fuck me."

He grins and pecks your lips, "Now how can I say no to you when you beg for me like that?"

He pulls away to rid himself of his boxers. He reaches into his bedside drawer and pulls out a condom. He quickly rips it open and rolls the rubber onto him.

He then goes to kneel in between your legs and you quickly wrap your legs around him, causing him to fall forward.

His arm catches himself before he can collapse onto you, "Eager, sugar?"

"You're taking too long, old man," you respond with sass.

Bucky's eyes darken. He grabs his length, and teases your entrance with it, "Tsk. Tsk. How can you be so sweet and so bratty as the same time?" He then sheaths himself inside you and you gasp.

He smirks at you and chuckles, "Nothin' to say, sugar?"

"Fuck me, Bucky," you mumble.

He promptly sits up and pulls you by the hips. His cock hits you deep and then he pulls back to only thrust back into you again. His movements are hard and fast to the point the bed rocks in the rhythm he sets.

"That's it, baby, so fucking pretty taking my dick." Bucky says as he watches your face scrunch up in pleasure. You're gripping onto his arms as he holds your hips while he fucks you.

"Does your dad know you're here, hm? Does he know how his little girl is getting fucked by his best friend?"

You shake your head, "No. Fuck, no."

"Of course he doesn't. Can't know that his little girl is my fucking naughty girl, hm? Fuck, you feel so fucking good, sugar."

He bends down, propping himself by his arms, his body hovering over you as he fucks you. You pull him into a heated kiss, moaning into his lips while he gives hard thrusts.

"Rub your pussy for me, baby. Wanna cum together and 'm close."

You nod, immediately bringing your hand down to your clit and rubbing fast circles around the nub. The added pleasure causes you to clench onto his cock.

"Fuck, that's it, baby. That's it. Fucking close. Shit."

His hips slam into yours, harder, faster, as he's so desperate to get that release.

You're close too as you moan his name, "Bucky! Oh fuck!"

He thrusts once...twice.. and thrice until his hips still. He lets out the sexiest moan you've ever heard as he cums in the condom.

"Goddamn," he groans as he slowly pulls out of you. He wipes the sweat off his forehead and runs a hand through his brown locks.

He gets a good look at you. Your body is covered in a thin sheet of sweat, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath.

"Fuck," he murmurs, "We really just did that."

He pulls off the condom, tying a knot in it, and tossing it into a nearby trash bin. He then climbs off the bed, pulling on his boxers.

"I'll be back." he heads to the bathroom where he grabs a hand towel. He dampens it with warm water and comes back to you. You keep your eyes on him while he wipes you down. You take in his furrowed brows and a pit of insecurity opens inside you.

"Do you regret it?"

He sighs, "We shouldn't have done that."

"Okay," you murmur. After he's done, you immediately get up and start to undress.

Bucky stands and makes you pause, "Hey."

You look at him, on the verge of tears and it breaks Bucky's heart. As a tear cascades down your cheek, he immediately wipes it away, "I don't regret it, but doing that just made things complicated."

"I know."

"Your dad obviously can't know about this."

"I know."

"You also just went through a breakup."

You let out an exasperated sigh, "Bucky, are you rejecting me or not?"

"Not really. Your emotions were high. You just found out your boyfriend was cheating on you. All I'm saying is give yourself some time to heal before.."

"Before?"

"Before we can see where this," he gestures between you and himself, "goes."

Your brows shoot up in surprise, "You want to explore this?"

He shrugs, "We clearly have some chemistry, but you're also young. You're still in your twenties and have a lot going on. If you don't want anything with me, that's fine. I'll live. I just don't wanna hold you back from exploring and enjoying your twenties and college life."

You can't help but scoff, "Bucky, I've been spending a majority of my twenties either at school or with you and my dad. I don't think you'd be holding me back at all."

He shrugs again, "Still. Just, take your time, alright, sugar? I'll be here when you need or want me."

"Okay," you reply softly.

You and Bucky both redress and he leads you to the kitchen where he makes you lunch. Afterwards, you give him a peck on the lips and leave.

On your way home, you think about what had just happened.

You thought you after getting Bucky out of your system, you'd be done. But nope, you're still drawn to his roaring flame. Are you bound to get burned? Probably. But that's what happens when you play with fire.

[buckrecs]

Hi!! Was wondering if you had recs for Bucky and reader fake dating??

Fake Dating / Marriage

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Keeping Score by @all1e23

After hearing you begging Steve to pretend to be your fake boyfriend to keep your family off your back, Bucky quickly jumps at the chance to play your boyfriend even though you’re a hundred percent sure he hates you. What could possibly go wrong?

the right partner by @bucky-bucket-barnes

You and Bucky have always possessed a complicated history, and even more strained relationship with one another. Begrudgingly, you're sent out on a mission with Barnes where you two are posing as a newly wed couple. In an effort to investigate the consistent disappearance of young women in a certain neighborhood, you find yourselves forced to confront a whirlwind of emotions.

Suburbia by @wkemeup

Posing as husband and wife, you and Bucky infiltrate a quaint suburban neighborhood in search of a Hydra hacker. Perhaps if you weren’t so in love with him and he hadn’t broken your heart, the act of pretending wouldn’t hurt so much.

where do we go from here by @barnesafterglow

when you agree to be bucky's date for his sister's wedding - and his fake girlfriend for the weekend - you're expecting a good time with your best friend. but things may never go back to normal

Fake It Till You Make It by @buckyalpine

Fake dating solves everything… right?

A Little Longer by @buckyalpine

It’s just a little lie.

Crossing The Line by @jadedvibes

After your friends set you up on a blind date with your sworn enemy, you both drunkenly decide to mess with them by making a bet to see who can pretend to be a happy couple the longest.

annoying neighbors and fake boyfriends | 2 by @lovelybarnes

“You stayed over at my place one night but my nosy, annoying neighbour saw you leave. They always get on my case about being single so I told them that we’re dating to show them”

Undercover by @buckysknifecollection

You and Bucky go on an undercover mission, where you need to pretend to be married. You are close to solving the case when Bucky decides he’s done pretending.

Make Believe on Christmas Eve by @green-eyeddragonfanfiction

When your family insists you bring your [nonexistent] long-term boyfriend over for Christmas, you panic. You hadn’t expected to be put in this situation; you never thought you’d actually have to bring “him” over.

Stop flirting with the staff by @writingsoftheloser

You and Bucky go undercover to stop the sale of a very important device.

The Karen’s of the World by @espinosaurusrexex

Aunt Karen is possibly the worst person you know. So when her annual Independence Day party arrives, you try to give her as little reason to pick on you as possible. Not being single for once should cover most of the topics she complains about. So you ask your friend Bucky to play pretend.

Tis the damn season by @starrysebastians

On the first post-blip Thanksgiving, you find yourself having to reunite with your parents and your heart is not in it — Sam persuades you to take Bucky with you, and this might be an opportunity for you two to get to know each other.

SERIES

The Holiday Hack by @gogolucky13

You ask Bucky to be your stand-in boyfriend for your family’s Christmas party.

Breaking The Rules by @redgillan

You hate James Barnes with a burning passion and the feeling is entirely mutual. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, you are tricked into attending his sister’s wedding as his girlfriend. Stuck with a bunch of strangers, you come up with a set of rules that are not going to last long.

Best Boyfriend You’ve Ever Had by @language-rxgers

When you find out your sister is getting married and expects you to bring a date to her wedding in two months, you panic, having not gone on so much as a coffee date with a guy in far too long. After all, being an Avenger doesn’t leave too much time for a life outside of work. So, when your best friend, none other than the James Buchanan Barnes himself, offers to pretend to be your boyfriend and plus one, how can you refuse? It seems like something that would come out of a movie. However, real life is never like the movies, and stories like this never go as planned.

Stepping Up by @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend

When Steve can’t go with you to your cousin’s wedding, he sends Bucky in his place. What happens when more than one person assume you’re dating? 

Picture Perfect by @writingsoftheloser

When Steve asks his collegue to be his fake girlfriend, she accepts, thinking nothing could really go wrong. Then, she meets Steve’s best friend.

-> this is not bucky and reader fake dating but it’s one of my favorite fics so I included it!

Worst Idea Ever by @firefly-in-darkness

Wedding Season is brutal as it is but throw in two friends that decide to be each other’s plus ones and a mixed bag of feelings, what's the worst that could happen?

Heart to a Gunfight by @lailannajacobs

You didn’t want to help Bucky Barnes make it through the party by pretending to be his fake girlfriend, after all, you had just met him. You also didn’t plan on the charade lasting as long as it did. 

am i more than you bargained for? by @morsmordre-writes

Bucky has an unwanted secret admirer, so naturally you pretend to be his girlfriend until it blows over. Will someone catch feelings? Will they be absolute idiots about it all? Will they live happily ever after? We may never know.

Almost Had Me Believing It by @tuiccim

An undercover operation playing Bucky Barnes' wife is a dream come true. Playing house in the suburbs while trying to take down a drug ring brings you and Bucky closer but a nosy neighbor causes trouble in paradise.

A Certain Romance by @wienerbarnes

With the threat of yet another bad date at the result of Sam Wilson’s meddling, Bucky’s desperate to find a solution. As are you, another victim to Sam’s failed matchmaking. The two of you come up with a genius plan: pretend to date each other in order to escape the poking and prying nose of the Falcon.

The Proposal by @toomanyrobins2

Y/N Arnaud is the liaison to the Avengers, but she’s also a French citizen. After a couple mistakes, her visa application is denied. Even though they can’t stand each other, Bucky offers to marry her in order to keep her visa status in the U.S. and avoid deportation.

Follow My Lead by @ciarawritesmarvel

You and your new friend Wanda are enjoying a day together at the Avengers Tower, her giving you a tour around the place when you both run into the infamous Bucky Barnes. Moments later, he’s introducing you to Sam as his girlfriend and placing a kiss on your temple and you’re not sure you’ve ever been so confused in your life.

Where Dreams Go To Die by @insomniumstella

[buckysugar]

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲’𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 | 𝐛. 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬

au masterlist

reader has a bad dream and struggles to maintain a balance between her big self and her little self. it doesn't help that all she wants is bucky, the man she wishes to be her daddy.

note: this my first fic so please be kinds !! i hopes you likes n maybe i writes more in the futures? thankies for readings, i lubs you 🎀☁️🫶🏽💗

you were a lonely baby when bucky met you. you had your family, sure, but they weren't there for you in the way you needed them to be. you'd just had a fall out with your best friend and had began isolating yourself from everyone and everything

it wasn't until peter found you at school, crying on a park bench in the rain, that things started to change for you. that was a few months ago. under the false pretence of moving away for college, you left your family and joined peter at the avengers tower after three months.

everyone loved you the moment they met you. you were so kind, so quiet and well-mannered. just so doll-like that no one could pick a bone with you. they hadn't known you were a little, and they still didn't but they wouldn't be surprised to find out. they all protected you and cared for you like you were their own. of course, you felt very out of place considering how quickly everything had happened but they all reassured you that they enjoyed having you around more than you knew. and with peter by your side, things were okay.

the one person who was iffy about you at first was bucky. he was too scared to come close, to taint your innocence with his darkness. over time, he came to realize how similar the two of you were in different ways and he let his wall break down. he opened up to you in the slightest of ways, and so did you. your feelings of hurt and anxiety still resided in your heart, but the avengers made you feel like you finally had a home. especially bucky.

"y/n, peter, what are you still doing up?" tony asked as he barged into the boy's room.

"we're just studying for a test, mr. stark. there's a lot to cram," peter replied in a tired voice, running a hand through his hair as the only light in the room came from his laptop and the bright city outside his window.

"okay, well this isn't the time to be studying, it's 1am. go to sleep," tony looked at him sternly, ready to walk out. "tiny, you look tired. head to bed, alright?"

"y-yes, sir," you nodded softly, giving him a smile.

"goodnight, kiddos. get some rest."

peter huffed, slamming his laptop aggressively. this caused you to flinch from your seat on the bed, making him give you an apologetic smile.

"i didn't realize how late it was," he spoke quietly, moving your book out of your lap. "let's get some rest, bug."

"mkay," you shuffled under the covers and made room for him to come in beside you. peter turned on the night light he kept for you in these instances before sliding into bed, opening his mouth to say something when he noticed the pout on your face.

"what's wrong?"

"i don't have squiggles."

"i got you," he tried easing your worries, pulling you into his chest. "you're safe with me, now close your eyes y/n/n."

"thank you, petey. goodnight."

--

"stop! where's my bucky? where's my daddy? i want him!" you shouted at the man in front of you.

"he's not coming back for you. he's gone, you're all alone like you always have been."

"i wan' him back," you cried, looking around through the foggy crowd of people around you. you didn't know where you were or who you were talking to, but you felt so alone and unsafe.

"you're alone now, y/n. nobody's coming to find you. you're trapped."

--

you woke up to heavy breaths, jolting upwards as you forced yourself awake. you were shaking like a leaf, heart beating rapidly against your chest as you looked down at peter who was sleeping soundly.

"wan' bucky," you whispered through tears, clutching the blanket to your chest. you were feeling so little right now, so scared and vulnerable.

you didn't know what to do. you didn't want to go bother or disturb him. the man rarely ever slept, but what if this time he was? you couldn't do it. but staring at the clock that read 3:14am, you didn't know how much longer you could take it.

he always told you to come to him whenever you needed him. you never did for fear of wasting his precious time but surely he wouldn't mind, if he wasn't asleep at least. you took a deep breath, using the back of your hands to wipe away the stray tears you didn't know had fallen. you carefully hopped over peter's sleeping frame and quietly made your way out of his room.

the hall was dark, making you let out a quiet whimper. your fingers clawed at your neck as you took shallow breaths, wishing you were holding squiggles right now for comfort. he always knew how to cheer you up.

"miss. l/n, you appear to be in distress. shall i alert mr. barnes?" F.R.I.D.A.Y's voice boomed, causing you to jump out of your skin.

"n-no, no, no. F.R.I.D.A.Y, b-be quiet. you'll wake everyone ups," you whispered, staring up at the ceiling.

"i'm sorry, ms. l/n, it appears mr. barnes is already on his way."

"w-what?" your eyes widened, looking around as you heard heavy footsteps walking towards you.

your eyes cracked with tears as you couldn't see a thing, reminding you of your scary dream as a quiet sob made its way out of your mouth.

"hey, y/n/n, don't worry. you're okay, everything's okay, love," you heard the familiar voice.

"b-bucky, you here?" you asked the dark abyss, pulling your thumb into your mouth.

"hun, i'm right here. i'm walking towards you," bucky replied, not missing a beat. his voice didn't sound tired at all. in fact, he sounded more awake than ever.

as he reached you, he heard the little sounds coming from you and his heart ached. he carefully placed a hand on your shoulder, causing you to jump and cry.

"plum, it's just me—"

you quickly ran into his arms and he held your quivering frame tight to his chest. you didn't want to speak, not in the hall where anyone could find you. you wanted to go to his room and let everything out, tell him all your fears and get the reassurance you so dearly needed.

"shh, shh. you're okay, my love, you're alright. i'm right here, i'm not leaving," he comforted, lifting you into his arms and taking you to his bedroom.

he locked the door behind him and sat on the bed, running a soft hand down your back as your tears soaked the skin on his neck.

"what happened, bug? what's got you so worked up?" he asked quietly, pulling you out of his chest.

you made a sound of disapproval before shoving your head back into the crook of his neck, just needing to be close to him.

"okay, okay. that's okay you can stay there," he rocked you slowly. "but can you please be the good girl i know you are and tell me what's wrong?"

you hiccupped, nodding your head. "t-the.. the guy t-took me.. n.. n you was gone!"

you balled his shirt in your fist, sobbing so hard your chest began to hurt. "was— was all 'lones n he.. he saids you wasn't gonna come backs."

"aw, my love," it clicked that you had a bad dream, the hurt in your voice tugging at his heartstrings. "i'm right here, i promise you i'll always find you wherever you are."

"was s-so scareds d.. da.. mm," you shook your head and stopped, finally taking the moment to actually realize where you were. you were with bucky, you couldn't call him daddy. but you were safe, no one was going to take him away from you and he wasn't going to leave you.

"thought.. thought you were g-gones," your voice cracked at the memory. a string of snot clung to his shirt through your cries and you wanted to laugh but you couldn't.

he kissed the top of your head, deciding again to try to get you to peak out from your hiding spot. he cupped your face in his hands, observing your red and teary eyes. he wiped the tears away softly before kissing both your cheeks as you hiccupped again. your lips were plump from the crying, and he continued looking down to notice scratches on the skin of your collarbone.

he'd have to talk to you about that in the morning, but for now he needed to get you back to sleep.

"you need a tissue," he mumbled, reaching over to his bedside table and grabbing one. he placed it on your nose. "blow."

you listened like you always do, silent wetness still dripping from your cheeks but they were beginning to slow down. he through out the tissue after humming in satisfaction. his hands moved down to your neck, using his thumbs to rub soft circles under your ears as you sniffled. it felt good, really good. you closed your eyes, his touch being more than enough to bring you back down to earth.

"you feeling a little better, baby?"

"mhm," you nodded, wiping your face aggressively. "m sorry."

"no, no. don't ever be sorry. you're okay, my baby's alright. bucky's here, you'll never be alone, hm? it's all going to be okay," he pulled you back into his chest, cradling your head ever so gently.

"t-thank you, bubby."

he smiled at the nickname. "no thank you's. now, lets get the little one back to sleep, how does that sound?"

"sounds good," you whispered.

"good girl," he turned off the lamp by his bedside table and got himself into bed with you clinging to him like a koala bear.

he simply chuckled as you looked up at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. he could feel your heart beating against his chest, it was still a bit quick but not as fast as it was before which was a good sign. no more words were spoken from you but he kept uttering words of reassurance until your breathing slowed. his delicate voice and the feeling of his hand tapping your side lulled you to sleep in no time.

[frostironfudge]

Hey girl, do you still do requests?

If so can you do something like those tiktok filters where you choose your soulmate but it's avengers choosing between each other who they'd want and reader cooses bucky all the time making the rest of them confused and later bucky pulls her into his lap when there is no place to sit and she tells him why she wants him and its all sweet reasons and at the end she says "the arm though..." you can end it here or add something else!😊😊

I'd Choose You - Bucky Barnes

Summary: based on the above prompt, i've sort of altered the filter used i hope thats okay

Warnings: none, pure fluff, some mutual pining, non canon compliant, the avengers are a big happy family.

Pairings: Bucky x Fem!Reader

An: i hope you enjoy it! I’m sorry it took this long!

Main Masterlist

You were hearing the same song playing from the living area over and over. The stirring of your pasta wasn't this repetitive. Turning the stove off you find Natasha and Wanda sprawled across the couch and watching videos via the projector.

You tilt your head watching the woman on the screen tilt her head side to side, picking between the avengers, in the end she lands on the picture of Wanda. She then goes on to explain her reason for picking Wanda, stating her perseverance and strength inspires her. Her friends come in on screen and they all giggle when she admits of the crush she has on her as well.

The screen moves upward another video with a man loads, he keeps on choosing, Tony Stark rolling his eyes at the other presented choices. His reasoning is the facial hair. You join Nat and Wanda's laughter.

"Is this the latest trend?" You ask as the next video loads. Natasha nods in response to your question.

"There are so many picking you as well." She assures scrolling upwards on the tablet till the old video she saw loads. You watch as your picture is paired against Steve's his picture disappears as yours is picked. It continues as you're picked over everyone else.

"What's all this?" Steve, Sam and Bucky walk into the living area. Their gazes fixed on the screen.

"It's a trend, picking their soulmate from amongst the avengers. Or picking the avenger they adore the most." Wanda explains, its silent again as the familiar song replays on the next video.

Sam does a hoot as he's picked in this video. Steve chuckles, you look at Bucky, he remains stoic. Then his eyes meet yours, a smile breaks out across his face drawing your own smile forth.

"You know what would be a great idea?" Sam pipes up.

Bucky looks at him then back at you, a silent conversation takes place. one in which he's telling you; 'Bird brain has an idea.' you shake your head at him. He knows you're chastising his little unsaid comment.

"What?" Nat turns to Sam.

"We should do this amongst us." He shrugs nonchalantly.

"I don't think that is a good idea. It could hurt sentiments." Steve reasons, Tony clicks his tongue. Entering with his coffee mug.

"Oh come on Cap, no one will say anything if you pick me." Tony teases Steve. The blonde's cheeks tinge red.

"Tony." He rolls his eyes.

"Go on Nat, lets see what Tweety Bird has in store for us." Tony raises his mug towards Sam.

"I'm not Tweety if anything I'm," Sam struggles to find a better bird character but flounders.

"Chuck?" Bucky offers.

"I'm not an angry bird." Sam glares at him.

"Getting angry there birdy." You giggle, Bucky laughs as Sam grumbles grabbing the tablet and setting it up to record,

"Just for that ya'll aren't getting picked." He warns before sifting through and picking Natasha, Steve give a little hey of protest when he is cut off first.

Tony points at you after most of them are done, some how Clint, Bruce, Vision, and even Peter were roped into the trend. You look at Bucky as you walk towards the set up.

Bucky bites his lip, he wants to be hopeful. This seemed to be the easiest way to confess his feelings for you. if you didn't reciprocate he could always say it is a platonic choice.

He watches as does everyone, right off the bat you're asked to pick between Steve and him. He exhales when you pick him.

Over and over you pick him, the choice is as easy as breathing for you. The picture of Bucky was from his first day reinstated and on a press release after a mission. You keep looking at it with a soft smile. Tilting your head to keep picking him.

At the end his picture moves from the side to the top of your head, you begin to move,

"Wait, you have to say why." Wanda reminds, a knowing smile on her face.

"Well, um, he's warm and fuzzy when we cuddle during movies," You look back at Bucky, "he's brilliant, a good listener, makes really good pancakes even if he burns the first three always." you laugh and Bucky's grin only widens.

"What else, Doll?" He walks over to you.

"Your eyes, always find my way to them."

"They do seek you out in every room." He cups your cheek.

"And this arm though." Your skin heats, Bucky smirks.

"What about it?" He questions, eager to know.

"Strong yet gentle." You breathe.

"I'd choose you." Bucky admits, his blue eyes convey something deeper. Something your had been waiting to be reciprocated.

"Oh Bucky." Your palm covers his own, held against your cheek.

Another silent conversation takes place, feelings affirmed.

His lips find yours, the softest of kisses shared, the rest of your family cheers.

"Finally." Sam adds.

-x-x-x-

Permanent Bucky Tag: @slutforsexyseabass

[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

[lunarbuck]

In Our Element (College!Stucky x f!reader)

pairing: college!stucky x f!reader (any race)

wc: 3.4k

summary: A camping trip with your friends leads to more than you bargained for

warnings: friends to lovers, oral (f and m receiving), smut (p in v, p in a), threesome, polyamory, MMF relationship

a/n: thank you @flordeamatista for hyping this fic up and for daydreaming with me <3 i hope you guys enjoy!!

my masterlist

You practically moan as you toss your backpack to the ground at the top of the bluff. Bucky laughs, following your lead. The camping trip was Steve’s idea, so of course, he didn’t have any trouble with the hike up the bluff or with the heavy backpack. He practically skipped the whole way here.

He gives you a bright smile as he unclips the tent from the bottom of his pack. “You two gonna help me or am I on my own here?” He asks, spreading out the tarp. Bucky rolls his eyes but helps out his friend.

In an effort to be somewhat helpful, you decide to start gathering wood for the fire. Even though your legs feel noodly and it’s way hotter than you thought it would be, you’re still happy to be here. The three of you will start your 4th and final year of college in just a few weeks; it feels surreal. 

You’ve known Steve and Bucky since freshman year and it’s crazy to think that at the end of this school year, the three of you won’t necessarily be in the same place anymore. Both the boys will probably get shipped out after graduation and you haven’t quite decided what’s next for you. 

It’s not very easy to force yourself to stop thinking about it, but when you haul back your arm full of firewood and see Bucky and Steve bickering about the tent, it all seems to fade away. You dump the wood and dig out a fire pit, trying to remember your firemaking skills from girl scouts.

It takes you a few tries and way more matches than Troupe Leader Nicols would have approved of, but eventually, you have a fire. The boys manage to get the tent up without killing each other, and this place is starting to come together. 

 “Look at you go, angel.” Bucky starts pulling the food out of his pack, laying it out so he can start cooking. Even though you’ve known him for three years, you haven’t quite gotten used to how tall Bucky is. Steve too, honestly. They’re both built like goddamned brick walls and even when Bucky is sitting beside you, he isn’t even eye level.

Now you won’t beat around the bush. Bucky is incredibly easy on the eyes. Especially with the firelight flickering in his deep blue eyes. His brown hair is swept up off his forehead in a carelessly sexy way that makes you want to scream, but you keep it contained. It’s never been like that between the two of you. He’s always kept his conquests out of your friendship, opting to give you bare-bone details about his casual hookups. 

It’s the same with Steve. You watch him as he walks toward the fire, a soft smile on his lips. He’s beautiful, you’ve thought so since the moment you laid eyes on him. He’s always watching out for you, making sure you’re doing okay, checking in. He makes butterflies burst in your heart every time he comes around.

“Thanks for doing this,” Steve says, sitting beside you. Bucky arranges the little tin foil packets on the hot stones, a pleasant smile on his face. “I’m happy the three of us could finally get out here. We’ve been wanting to show you this place for a while.” 

Your heart warms at his words. Steve and Bucky are your best friends, they’ve been there for you through all the ups and down college has thrown at you. You’re not sure you would’ve survived without them. Part of you feels guilty for developing feelings for them, for the fact that you want more when they’ve already given you everything.

“I’m glad you invited me,” you reply, nudging Steve with your shoulder. “This is perfect.” The glow from the fire softens his usual sharp, classically charming features, and you feel yourself melt at the sight of them. Behind him, the sun is setting, painting the sky with bright oranges and pinks, and everything feels so… right. 

Once the food is warmed up, Bucky passes everything out and you all dig in. Conversation flows easily between the three of you, reminiscing and laughing about the past, and before you know it, the stars are shining in the sky. 

“It’s so clear up here,” Bucky mumbles, tilting his chin to stare at the constellations. “Can never see this many stars in the city.” You follow his line of sight and find his eyes tracing the outline of Hercules. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many,” you whisper. “It’s beautiful.” Bucky turns, grinning down at you. Suddenly, it feels like there’s no air. The way he’s looking at you sends shivers down your spine.

“You’re beautiful, angel.” Your lips part on a gasp, mind spinning.

“Bucky.” You can barely hear your voice when you speak. He just smirks and flicks his eyes behind you to where Steve is watching silently. You quickly turn to him, heat flooding your body.

“S’mores?” He asks, not appearing fazed by the moment between you and Bucky. You watch him arrange the s’mores materials and hand out sticks to roast marshmallows as if nothing happened.

“Steve, I–” He just smiles and shakes his head a little as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. You shake it off, taking the stick from Steve and roasting a marshmallow. You stare at the flames, feeling off-kilter from the heated moment with Bucky. You don’t want to hurt Steve, you care so much about him. You couldn’t ever pick between the two of them, your feelings equally strong for both men. You don’t want him to feel like you’ve chosen Bucky over him.

Before your marshmallow has a chance to light on fire, you pull it away from the flames and make your s’more. The chocolate melts in your mouth and you grin; s’mores could probably solve all your problems. 

You feel fingers turning your chin and suddenly you’re back face-to-face with Bucky. “You’ve got a little somethin’ here, angel,” he whispers. His thumb gently rubs against the corner of your mouth as he slowly leans toward you. When he’s just inches away, his lips tip up into his signature smirk, before closing the distance and pressing a kiss to your lips. He’s kissing you softly, but there’s so much passion in it. Bucky’s hand cups your face while his metal fingers rest on your waist, holding you steady. 

You lean into his kiss, head buzzing. You’ve wanted this for years, since the first time you met him, and now it’s happening. But you can’t forget that Steve is beside you, watching. Watching his best friend kiss you right in front of him. That’s what makes you pull away.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” Bucky says, thumb tracing over your lips. 

“Language.” Steve’s scolding tone is also a teasing one, and you turn to find him watching you and Bucky with hooded eyes. He reaches out, placing a hand on your leg. His palm is warm against your skin but you still shiver at that contact.

“Stevie,” you whisper. He nods, shifting closer until he can lean his forehead against yours. 

“You’re beautiful, angel.” When he kisses you, he tastes sweet like the s’more and smells smokey from the fire. His hand rests on your hip opposite from where Bucky’s is, and the feeling of both of them touching you at the same time sends you spinning. Never, in any of the scenarios you’d thought up did they both want you, let alone at the same time. Sure, you’ve fantasized about it, dreamed about it, but you didn’t think it’d ever happen. 

Bucky’s hands find your shoulders, grazing your neck. You feel him lean down and press his lips to the sensitive spot beneath your jaw and you groan into Steve’s kiss. Heat builds between the three of you, a sense of urgency you’ve never felt before.

“You’re perfect,” Bucky says into your skin, sucking gentle marks in places that make you see stars. “Our perfect little angel.” Steve pulls away, placing a gentle kiss on your nose, and you look between the two men, stunned.

“I never thought…” your voice fades as you lose yourself in both of them. 

“Never thought what?” Steve prompts, trailing across your face.

“Never thought that you two would feel this way for me.” Bucky chuckles, still pouring his attention into your neck.

“We’ve never met a girl like you, angel,” Bucky tells you, and you truly believe it. “You’ve been ours since you met us, we’ve just been waiting for you to realize it.” Your heart slams in your chest so hard you swear it’s going to burst right out.

“How do you feel?” Steve asks, holding your face in his big, warm hands. “Is this okay?” You nod quickly, earning you a laugh from both men.

“I feel like I’m floating,” you reply. Four hands move over your body, feeling every inch of you. Two sets of lips kiss you, taste you, and unravel you. Bucky adjusts you so you’re able to lean back against him and Steve moves with you, not letting you go for even a moment. Sandwiched between the two mountain-like men, you’ve never felt safer, never felt better.

When they pull away, both men help you stand. You have to crane your neck to keep eye contact, but it’s worth it to see them both smiling happily at you.

“Angel,” Bucky says, turning your head with two fingers. You love that nickname. You don’t remember where it came from, you used to roll your eyes at it, but you’ve always loved it. Especially when Bucky says it like that. “We can stop if you want to, we don’t want you to feel pressure to do anything you don’t want to. Okay?”

“What if I want it all?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Then we’ll give it to you,” Steve answers. He guides you toward him, hooking his fingers in the hem of your shirt before tugging it off you. You shiver in the night air, but Bucky is quick to warm you up, his lips finding your shoulder. 

Steve works your shorts off next, helping you step out of them. In just your panties and bra, you should feel exposed, but you don’t. Steve and Bucky make you feel beautiful, they make you feel strong. Steve admires you for a moment, bright blue eyes trailing over your body appreciatively. Then, he turns you to face Bucky.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this, angel,” he whispers, leaning in and kissing you. His metal fingers are cold against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

Behind you, Steve steps in close, tracing his fingers along your back. The shapes he draws are followed by his lips. It takes you a moment, but you realize he’s drawing the constellations on your back, kissing the stars into your skin. 

Both of the men kneel and Steve unclasps your bra. Bucky instantly wraps his lips around one of your nipples, taking your other breast into his hand. Steve watches from over your shoulder, breathing heavily as he takes in the sight of Bucky worshiping you. His hands trace down your torso, finding the waistband of your panties and dragging them down your legs. You gasp, one hand burying itself in Bucky’s hair, the other reaching back to hold onto Steve.

Steve’s fingers slide up your legs before his right hand reaches the crux of your thighs. His other hand anchors in Bucky’s hair, tugging it lightly. You’re desperate for him; for them, and you know he can feel it. His fingers slide against you, knocking your clit with each pass. “You’re so wet,” he tells you, sliding a finger inside of you. “So wet for us, angel.”

Bucky groans against your nipple before pulling away to watch Steve finger you. “Fuck, Steve,” he grumbles, resing his forehead against your sternum. “I know, language.” Steve chuckles by your ear, adding a second finger. He picks up his pace, hitting a spot inside of you that makes your head go fuzzy. Your knees wobble, and Bucky holds them, not letting you fall.

“Why don’t we take this to the tent, Buck,” Steve suggests. The other man nods, and a second later, he scoops you into his arms. Steve helps the two of you settle the tent after putting out the fire, and once you’re laying down between the two of them, they’re back on you.

Bucky slides down between your legs, tongue running over your pussy like he’s starving, while Steve’s tongue laves your breasts. Bucky works you back to the point Steve had gotten you to, the band in your belly ready to snap. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him to where you want him, and as he works tight circles over your clit, you come apart, shaking in his and Steve’s arms. 

“So perfect, angel, so perfect,” Bucky whispers against your clit. “Gimme another one, come on.” He slides two fingers inside of you, stretching you while he tastes you. You’re sensitive since you just came, but Bucky is quick to soothe any ache you feel. Steve sucks marks across your breasts and neck, ones that you’re so happy to wear, and you come again just thinking about it.

“Please, please,” you moan, gently guiding Bucky’s face away from your pussy. 

“Tell us what you want,” Steve tells you, kissing your cheek. You glance between him and Bucky, who is still resting between your thighs, and feel a renewed heat in your belly.

“I want both of you.” Bucky raises an eyebrow, urging you to continue. “I want both of you at the same time.” Steve and Bucky exchange a glance, and for a moment, you worry you’ve suggested the wrong thing. “Or, or not, I’m sorry I didn’t mean–”

“Angel,” Bucky says, nipping at your inner thigh. “That was the perfect suggestion.”

“Really?” You look at Steve for confirmation, unable to wipe the grin from your face.

“Really,” he replies. “We’ve been wanting that since we both realized we had feelings for you. We talk about it all the time, what we’d do to you, what you’d sound like.” Your mind floods with downright pornographic images of those conversations until Steve and Bucky pull you back to the real world.

“If you’re gonna take us we’re gonna have to get you ready,” Bucky says, shifting onto his knees. He slides his hands over your legs, but his eyes are on Steve. “You just gonna stare, Stevie? Or are you gonna do something?” Steve does his best to maneuver over to Bucky, and when he’s between your legs too, he strips Bucky out of his shirt and works his pants down too. Bucky strips Steve next, and before you know it, they’re both naked. You can’t take your eyes off of them, off of their perfectly sculpted bodies.

Bucky tugs Steve into a bruising kiss, both men melting into each other. They fit perfectly together, feeding off one another in a way you’ve never seen before. It’s beautiful. When they pull apart, they’re both panting. They turn to you next, lust filling their eyes. 

Steve sinks lower and Bucky slides two fingers inside of you. Bucky moans as Steve takes his dick into his mouth. You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can watch. You’ve never had voyeuristic tendencies before, but these men bring out a new side of you. 

Bucky smirks, one hand working you, the other hand cupping Steve’s head. He looks completely in his element. Bucky’s fingers scissor inside of you, stretching you out, but seeing how big he and Steve are, you aren’t sure any amount of preparation will be enough. 

When Bucky decides you’re ready, he moves, pulling Steve off of him. Steve’s face is flushed, but he grins as he positions himself between your legs. He lines himself up with your pussy and notches the head of his dick at your entrance. You press your lips to his, moaning into the kiss as he presses inside of you. He’s stretching you more than Bucky’s fingers, but it feels so incredible.

“Oh my god, angel,” he moans, wrapping his arms around you. ”You’re so tight, squeezing me so good.” Bucky lays down beside you, hand sliding down to where Steve is fucking you. He circles your clit slowly in contrast to the pace Steve is setting. 

“Doesn’t he feel good?” Bucky whispers into your ear, sliding his fingers lower, slipping one inside of you with Steve’s dick. You jolt at the feeling, but Steve kisses you sweetly, nipping at your lower lip. “His cock is perfect, isn’t it, angel? Hitting all the right spots, huh?”

“Shit, yes,” you moan, your head lolling back as Steve fucks you. “It feels so good.” Steve and Bucky seem to be communicating telepathically, because they keep moving in sync. Steve will shift, Bucky will move with him. They play your body like a fiddle, like they know you better than you know yourself. 

Eventually, they manage to get Steve below you with you on top, riding him. He’s even deeper this way, hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t know existed. Bucky sits behind you, sliding his hands all over you, kissing you everywhere. 

“You ready for the next step?” Bucky asks, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. 

“Yes, yes, please,” you whimper. You’ve been on edge for a while, everytime you get close to coming Steve slows down, not letting you finish. Bucky rustles through a bag and you hear a click before you feel one of his fingers, slick and warm, pass over your ass. You shiver at the feeling but keep grinding against Steve. 

Bucky works his finger inside of you, and even just the feeling of his finger in your ass coupled with Steve’s dick makes the band in your belly snap. You come on a groan, leaning back against Bucky’s chest. Once you’re relaxed, he adds a second finger. You feel like you’re going to explode. Bucky keeps working you, keeps stretching you, all the while whispering in your ear.

“So perfect for us, angel, so good. You squeezin’ my fingers so tight, squeezing Stevie so good.” After he feels you’re ready, you feel him pull away. Next, his lubed cock presses against your ass and you stifle a groan. Bucky runs his hands over you soothingly before he presses inside of you.

Steve moans loudly from below you, gripping your hips tightly. “Oh my god, Bucky, she’s so much tighter now.” You whimper as they start to move in tandem, stretching you to your limit. 

“Come on, Stevie, show her how much you want her,” Bucky goads as he tweaks your nipples. Steve bucks below you, fucking into you faster. Your eyes roll back, your head falls onto Bucky’s shoulder, and all you can do is take it. Bucky presses in deeper, fucking you at an agonizing pace. 

“God, angel, you feel so good. You’re perfect, so beautiful.” He whimpers the words, and you can tell he’s getting close. You run your hands along his chest, scraping him lightly with your nails, and he comes on a loud moan. Bucky keeps thrusting into you, making a sensitive Steve whine, but he comes soon after, filling you.

The three of you lay in an exhausted, sexed-out heap, breathing heavily. You’re blissed out between the two of them, loving how even though they’re about to pass out, they’re still caressing you; still holding you. 

“I should go get something to clean us up,” Steve says, moving to sit up, but you grab him and pull him back down, tugging him into your chest. 

“Not yet,” you whisper. Bucky joins your cuddle heap despite the heat coming off everyone’s bodies. “Just stay here with me.”

When setting up the tent, Bucky and Steve had opted to keep the rain fly off since it’s not supposed to rain, so you can see the stars through the mesh top of the tent. After a few moments of sated silence, you speak again. “Is this real?”

“Of course it’s real, angel,” Bucky replies, squeezing one of your hands. “Our feelings for you are real. This is real.”

“Your feelings for us are real, right?” Steve asks, lacing his fingers with your other hand.

“Of course.”

“Then it’s real,” Steve says. “We care about you so much, angel, and we want this to work out. Real.”

Eventually, you let Steve get you cleaned up. The three of you fall asleep in a tangled mess, but you couldn’t be happier. Tonight was perfect, this trip, these men, everything. Absolutely perfect.

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[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. The Masterlist.

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

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

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

Word Count (so far) - 52.5k

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

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight.

Chapter Nine.

Chapter Nine - the reveal I didn’t choose.

Chapter Ten.

Chapter Eleven.

to be continued…

The Playlist.

The Moodboard.

[navybrat817]

Where Did the Time Go?

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You decide not to drink during game night, which leads to an interesting conversation with Bucky. Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: Light angst, tension, friends reconnecting, unrequited feelings (or so you think), slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) Previous Part of AU: We'll Always be Friends A/N: More Dreamboat and Butterfly from my Reconnect AU! ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren’t sure what exactly happened between dinner and now, but you decided that the fun game night wouldn’t include drinking. You hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since your meal. Even then, you were pretty sure you didn’t have much. Sharon brought out a bottle of wine before everyone finished eating and you took a sip of your glass out of obligation. If she noticed you didn’t finish your glass, she didn’t say anything, which you appreciated.

But you should’ve known that Bucky would catch on.

“Not drinking tonight, huh?” He asked as he took a seat beside you on the couch. Steve and Sam set up a game table and were already a couple of drinks in. So were Sharon and Natasha. You weren’t worried about them though. They could hold their liquor.

But can I hold my tongue if I drink? Or am I using that as an excuse?

“Not tonight,” you replied, holding up your cup of water. “Sticking with water.”

“You’re acting like we need a designated driver when we’re not going anywhere,” he joked, throwing his arm around behind the cushion, the same way he had at the dinner table. “Afraid I’ll kick your ass in Mario Kart if you get a little tipsy?” He asked, grinning when you smiled. “We can have a tournament? Just the two of us?”

“Hey, one of us might need to go on a liquor or snack run. You never know,” you said, setting your water on the table before you sank into the couch. “And it isn’t exactly a tournament if only two people are playing, is it?”

“It can be. We make our own rules,” he smiled as he moved a little closer. “Remember the time we had a tournament? We went to that shady looking liquor store after Sam spilled the last bottle of rum. The guy behind the counter had a bunch of clown masks.”

You laughed a little. How could you forget? “Yes! We had to open the living room window so we could breathe. And the cashier was actually a sweet guy, but you glued yourself to my side before that because you were certain the guy had bad intentions,” you said. Bucky and his protective streak made you feel important.

Until you weren’t.

Bucky must’ve noticed the change in your demeanor since he stopped chuckling. “Seriously though. Are you okay? Are you not feeling well?”

“I feel fine. I just don’t need to drink tonight,” you said, touched that he showed concern for you before a weird expression crossed his face. “What? Do I have something in my teeth?”

“No. You’re, um,” he tapped a finger on his knee as he tried to find the words. “There isn’t a specific reason you aren’t, is there? You're not…” he trailed off, but his eyes drifted long enough to your torso to fill in the blank.

You never understood the expression about eyes widening to the size of saucers until you experienced it just then. “Are you asking if I’m pregnant?” You whispered, careful not to speak any louder than that. The last thing you needed was the group questioning why Bucky asked such a question. “If so, the answer is NO.”

The sigh of relief Bucky let out, you weren’t sure what to make of it. “Sorry. I'm sorry. You don’t owe me an explanation for why you aren’t drinking. I just. I don't know why my mind went there.”

You couldn’t exactly tell him you're worried about getting plastered and revealing how you felt about him. Drunk confessions worked for some, but you didn’t think the odds were in your favor. “I still can’t believe you asked that,” you half teased, pointing at your stomach. “Not to mention, I haven’t been laid in ages. So, unless it happens via immaculate conception, that’s never going to be the case.”

The odd expression was back on Bucky’s face. What was his deal? “When was the last time you went on a date?” He asked with more interest than you expected.

“Months ago. Minimum,” you said, looking up at the ceiling as you tried to recall the exact day. “His name was Nick. We went on a few dates and he was nice enough, but he ended up getting serious with someone else. Haven’t gone on another date since.”

The clench in Bucky’s jaw almost made you smile. He had no reason to look so upset on your behalf. “I’m sorry. It’s his loss.”

“Don’t be. I’m kind of used to it,” you said with a nonchalant shrug.

“What the hell does that mean?” He asked, facing you on the couch and blocking the view of your friends at the table. “What exactly are you used to?”

Why does he sound upset? It's not like I’m not his girl.

“It means I’m used to guys not picking me,” you said honestly. As much as it hurt to think that way, saying it didn’t hurt as badly. “Think about it, Bucky. In all the time you’ve known me, when have guys ever flocked to me? When have you ever seen a guy take a chance on me when Natasha and Sharon were there? They haven’t and that’s just the way it is.”

“That’s bullshit. You’re perfect. And maybe people do see you, but you don’t see them,” he argued, quickly closing his mouth when he saw your expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“No, I think that’s exactly what you meant,” you said, sitting up to put some distance between the two of you as hurt filled his eyes. “I see just fine, thanks, but please enlighten me. Who saw me? Who did I overlook? I’d love an example.”

There was no reason to get so defensive, but did he understand how you felt? People gravitated toward Bucky and your friends. They always had. You, on the other hand, were on the outside of the house looking in. It was tiring to be the one knocking on the door.

“What about your old friend, TJ? You’re telling me he didn’t see you?” He asked, a hint of bitterness in his voice. It wasn’t a tone you heard from him before. It didn't suit him.

“TJ?” You asked, confusion written all over your face that you couldn’t fake if you tried. “TJ Hammond? My old family friend? Um, no, he definitely doesn’t see me.”

Not even close.

“He stayed at your place after Steve’s party,” he said, running a hand through his hair as he avoided your gaze. “Bet he couldn’t wait to see you. Probably went over the second you got back from the trip.”

Wait, is he jealous? What the hell?

You laughed a little, unable to help yourself when he raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, he did stay at my place for a bit after Steve’s birthday bash a couple of years ago. He had an issue with his boyfriend.”

Bucky did a double take, which would’ve been humorous if not for the stricken look on his face. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah. The guy he dated at the time was a HUGE asshole and they had a falling out. His parents refused to let him go back home, so he stayed with me. And I couldn’t kick him out. He needed a friend,” you said, your brows pinching when you recalled how TJ cried on your sofa. It was a heartbreaking sight. “He has a new boyfriend now who treats him well and he couldn’t be happier. And I couldn’t be happier for him.”

Bucky blinked a few times. “So, you two. You never…?”

“TJ and I? No. Never dated, hooked up, anything,” you smiled with a shake of your head. “We adore each other, but in a brother and sister kind of way. I mean, we’ve known each other since we were in diapers. Even if I did find him attractive, nothing ever would’ve happened. You, Steve, Sam, you guys are much more his type.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, his face a bit pale. You worried for a second that he was going to get sick. “I thought you two hooked up,” he said more to himself than to you.

Where the hell did he get that impression?

“No, we didn't and we never will,” you said again before something he said dawned on you. “Wait, how did you know he stayed at my place? He asked me not to tell anyone where he was and I respected his wishes.”

Going through the dates again in your head, it wasn’t long after TJ stayed with you that Bucky brought Dot around as his new girlfriend. You knew you lost your chance to admit your feelings because he had someone by his side. Someone who wasn’t you.

“Come with me,” Bucky said, taking your hand and pulling you up from the couch before you had a chance to argue. It was hard to keep up with his long strides and he didn’t look back when Steve called after the two of you.

“What’s going on?” You asked as he pulled you outside and slammed the door. You watched as he took a few breaths, like he was trying to steady himself. “Talk to me, please.”

“I wasted two years,” he whispered, tilting his head to look at the sky. “Two fucking years.”

What is he talking about?

“I don’t understand,” you said.

“I made a huge mistake and I regret it,” he said, squeezing your hand as he faced you. “And I can't go the rest of this week without telling you. I wasted enough time.”

“Tell me what? Bucky, what did you do?”

And can we come back from it?

That literary edging. I'm sorry! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: A Day at the Fair

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: You make a new friend.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Ten bucks for a game?” Bucky curls his lip at the sign. 

You giggle around the mouthful of dissolving spun sugar. You gulp and sigh, “oh, you’re such and old man, sometimes.” 

“Ten bucks!” He exclaims again, waving a hand.  

“In my day...” You say in unison with him and he stops abruptly. He squints as you turn and walk backwards with him through the fairgrounds. “And predictable.” 

His blue eyes dull in irritation. “Maybe the world is predictable, huh? And I’m just reacting to it.” 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” you chime and twirls your cotton candy. “Have some, it’s yummy.” 

“I told you not to get that. It’ll give you a stomach ache.” 

“I’m an adult. I can do what I want.” You retort. “I’m gonna get a candy apple and a funnel cake and oooh, do they have those big baked pretzels?” 

“You’re going to get sick.” 

“That’s half the fun,” you smile and your heel catches on a rise in the ground, heavy rubber mats spread to hide thick wires. Bucky’s quick. So quick it makes you dizzy. He catches you and sets you right, sharply spinning you ahead. 

“You need to watch where you’re going,” he girds. 

You just laugh again, “aw, but I got you around to save me.” You put your feet right and fall back into step. “So you’re too cheap to win me that purrito stuffy, so I’ll just do it myself--” 

“I’m not cheap.” 

“Not at all,” you agree with a grin. He stops and face you. You look up at him and take another bite of spun sugar. 

“You are the worst,” he says as he digs in his pocket and twists on his heel, “fine, one purrito coming up.” 

He marches back to the shooting game and greets the man in his striped shirt. He pays for his go and picks up the rifle. He gives you a look before he raises the but to his shoulder. His posture is confident, if not bored. 

The pings come in fast succession. You don’t have a minute to count them but he stops before the rifle clicks, knowing exactly how many he’s fired. All in the centre of the bullseye. He flips the gun and hands it back to the work.  

“A purrito, whatever that is,” he demands. 

The fair employee gapes at him as he accepts the gun. He blinks then glances at the target again. His eyes rove back to Bucky and he frowns as he notices Bucky’s metal hand. 

“Dammit, I knew you looked familiar,” he grumbles and turns to take a purrito from the wall. He hands it over to Bucky who thanks him and turns to you.  

“It’s a cat... in a tortilla?” 

“Yes, a purrrrrrito,” you drag out the words. “Like a burrito but cuter.” 

He sighs, “of course.” 

“It’s so cute!” You wiggle it around gleefully, “I’m going to put it right in my room with all my others!” 

“Others?”  

“Oh, yes, I have a whole shelf of purritos. Big, small, calico, tabby... even a lion.” 

“Wow,” he mutters. 

“We all have collections. What about your cards? Hmm?” 

“Those are priceless. They’re baseball cards from the 1936 World Series. The Yankees won.” 

“Sounds important. I don’t really watch baseball,” you say. “But see? It’s your passion. You love those cards. You even put them in plastic. That’s kinda adorable. Means you care about them. Just like my purritos!” 

“Antique baseball cards are different from stuffed taco cats.” 

“Um, a burrito is not a taco,” you argue. 

“Don’t,” he points at you. “You always do this.” 

“Do what?” 

“You have to argue and then you put on that face--” 

“What face?” You pout. 

“Ah, quit.” 

“Fine,” you harrumph and tuck your prize under your arm. You tear off a piece of cotton candy and hold it out to him, “here.” 

“I told you--” he stops himself and accepts it. He eats it and lets out an ‘mmm’. 

“See, it’s good.” 

“It’s pure sugar.” 

“I know,” you agree triumphantly. “So, you wanna go on a ride? I like that big one!” 

You point with the empty cone and he tilts his chin up. “Sure, may as well get our money’s worth.” 

“Oh, fun! It’s going to be so scary.” 

“Scary?” Bucky snickers. 

“Not all of us jump out of planes, Mr. Avenger.” 

“Or sing and dance in frills,” he rebuffs. 

You roll your eyes. Your job isn’t the best but you get decent tips at the restaurant. Besides, you don’t exactly have the qualifications to save the world. Sometimes the distance between you, in more than age, is daunting. 

You pass a garbage can and toss the cone. You join the line for the ride and Bucky crowds in behind you between the metal barriers. You wait your turn as you bounce on your shoes and hug your toy. 

“I’m gonna name this one Mew-chanan. After you.” 

“Mew-- oh god.” He shakes his head as he connects the dots. “You’re so cheesy.” 

“And yet you’re still hanging out with me,” you smirk. 

You get to the front of the line and the work offers to hold the purrito. You hand him over and follow another to a seat. Bucky gets in next of you. You squeak as you’re locked into the seat and your insides begin to swim. You should’ve suggested the merry-go-round but you don’t want him to think you’re that lame. 

“My stummy—stomach!” You say as the ride starts to hum.  

“I told you about eating that--” 

Before he can finish, the ride lurches into action. Slow at first, rising and rising. The higher you get, the dizzier you are. As you get to the top, you latch onto his hand. You close your eyes and let out a long breath. 

“You okay?” He asks. 

You blink and look at him. Before you can answer, the ride drops at warp speed. A scream erupts from your chest and you close your eyes. It doesn’t last long but you’re breathless as you stop at the bottom. You squeeze Bucky’s hand as you tremble. You crush his fingers, his real fingers together. 

“Hey, Dreamy, it’s over,” he shakes your hand. 

“I know, I know,” you peel your eyes open. “That was... fun.” 

He watches you, his blue eyes almost cloudy. You open your hand and his thumb taps your knuckle before he turns his palm down. You blow out as the harness lifts from your chest. 

“Come on!” You hop out of the seat. “Let’s do another.” 

[sjsmith56]

Cold Hearted

Summary: AU one shot. A marriage of convenience between the son and daughter of two CEOS to benefit their companies leads to a friendship between the couple, then more.

Length: 6.7 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, unnamed and undescribed female character. She is occasionally referred to as “Sweetheart” or “Pretty girl.”

Warnings: unresolved emotional trauma, Bucky is a bit of a party boy at first, loneliness, unrequited love, feelings of worthlessness and betrayal.

Author notes: There’s some angst in this but it’s part of the growth process for the couple as they learn to trust and rely on each other.

🥂 🏥 🐚

It was just a business deal according to my father. I marry the son of his biggest competitor and they signed an agreement to split the market between them. It sounded like something a mob boss would ask of their daughter, but my father wasn't in the mob, at least not so far as I knew. He was the CEO of a billion-dollar company, just like the competitor was and both of them had spent almost two years fighting to corner the market for a stupid product that would be outdated in a year, two at the most. Then someone, a VP or maybe my father's mistress (same person) suggested a marriage of convenience. After all, you wouldn't screw over family. So, here I was, standing in a church next to a total stranger, both of us facing the minister as he droned on and on about the sanctity of marriage.

We each said I do, when it was asked of us, then put a ring on each other's left hand, while not once making eye contact. When it was time to kiss, he looked at me then and kissed me hurriedly on my cheek; his blue eyes looking quickly away as if I was something unexpected. We signed the register, were introduced as Mr. and Mrs. James Barnes, then he offered me his arm and we stepped down the aisle towards the open doors at the end of the church. All I had to do was pull away from him, sprint through the doors, hail a cab and I could run away. But I didn't. I took the long walk, stood in the receiving line, shook hands with my father and my new father-in-law's business colleagues then was told it was time to leave. My husband offered me his hand, led me out the doors, past the people throwing rose petals at us and into the limousine. Our wedding party piled into the second vehicle. At least it was quiet in there and as it pulled away; he looked behind us then let out a breath of air, seemingly glad that was over with.

"You thirsty?" he asked. "I think there's water in the mini fridge."

Without waiting for an answer, he opened it, took out two bottles and uncapped one, offering it to me before he opened his, draining half of it almost immediately. I sipped mine several times, then placed the cap back on.

"What did you father offer you to do this?" he asked.

I looked at him. "Nothing, just said I better do it if I wanted to still be part of the family and get my inheritance."

He frowned. "That's cold. My dad offered me $10 million. I talked him up to 25."

I looked out the window. Swell. My husband had to be paid to marry me.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I guess that sounds crass. You seem nice but I'm not the faithful type. I like my freedom."

I looked at him. He was a handsome man and in real life would never look at someone like me. He was all nightclubs, parties, exotic vacations and I was a quiet, shy wallflower, who had only ever had a handful of boyfriends. At least he was honest, if telling me he wasn't the faithful type meant he was probably going to cheat on me.

"James, you know the contract stipulates grandchildren, at least two."

"I know. I thought we could use IVF. I wouldn't expect you to sleep with me." He was quiet for a moment. "Call me Bucky. It's my nickname. James is what my father calls me when he's about to chew me out about my lifestyle."

"Okay. So, we'll have separate bedrooms?" He nodded.

"If you want but I won't bring anyone home," he said. "I wouldn't embarrass you like that and I'll be as discreet as I can." He frowned. "Your dad say anything about the divorce agreement in two years?"

I looked at him. "No, what divorce agreement?"

"You get $100 million as a settlement plus a house and a car, child support. I saw the papers and you signed it."

My mind went blank for a moment. There were so many documents that I signed when this was proposed, and I just put my signature where the lawyer said. Why wouldn't they make it known I had a divorce agreement?

"I can ask my lawyer, if you wish," he said. "I mean, you are my wife now, and your wellbeing is my concern. I'm not a complete cold-hearted asshole."

I smiled at him, and he squeezed my hand then he drank some more of his water. We pulled up to the reception venue and waited for the driver to open the door. Bucky got out, then offered me his hand to get out. There were several flashes from the paparazzi, as Bucky was well known in certain social circles, then we hurried inside and made our way to a private lounge for our formal wedding pictures. As the pictures of me and my attendants were being taken, I noticed Bucky talking animatedly with a man. He seemed bothered at what the man was explaining then when he was called for our pictures he turned to him.

"Get it done," he said. "It's not fair and I'll expose the whole thing right now if it isn't fixed."

He smiled at me as he approached, then stood where the photographer told him, right behind me. As the photographer directed the others into position he leaned towards my ear and spoke in a low voice.

"My lawyer said you signed over the proceeds of the divorce agreement to your father. I told him that was false, as you didn't even know about the agreement. If they don't fix it, we'll get an annulment and he'll get nothing. Since I already got paid by my dad, I'll give you half. It's only fair." My mouth was open, and he placed his hand under my chin, closing it, as he grinned. "I told you, I'm not an asshole, well, at least not to those who are my friends."

My smile during the photographs was genuine. It had been a long time since I had anyone that stood up for me; certainly not my parents or any of my siblings. My grandmother, before she died, was the last person who ever advocated for me, and I had forgotten how good it felt to have someone in my corner. When the pictures were done, Bucky went over to a table filled with liquor bottles and poured out shots for everyone. I looked at him dubiously, as I wasn't much of a drinker.

"Come on, it's your wedding day," he smiled. "Open your mouth, pour it in and swallow."

I did as he said, feeling it burn down my throat. He laughed then did his own shot, before pouring another. With his encouragement I drank that one, then another before the wedding planner came in to say we had to make our entrance. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me out the door and waited for the rest of the wedding party to go in as they were introduced. Then it was our turn and he looked at me, then smiled.

"You ready, Mrs. Barnes?"

I nodded and we danced our way into the reception room, as the guests clapped in time to the music. As we passed my family's table, I noticed my father was glaring at me. Bucky noticed too and leaned in close to me.

"Kiss me," he said. "Let your dad know that we're fucking with him."

"He'll be angry," I answered.

"So? Let him. He's arranged this so that only he benefits from this marriage. You deserve a piece of the action."

He twirled me around until our lips were just inches apart, then with an almost evil grin, he kissed me, and I kissed him back. As the guests hooted and hollered, we gave them a good show, then he stood up and pumped his fist in time to the bass beat in the song. I looked at my dad again and he was livid. Before the wedding, I would have been terrified of my dad being like this but maybe the three shots, the kiss, and the encouragement of my fake husband changed something because I suddenly didn't care what my father thought. Pumping my fist and jumping in time to the music I joined Bucky as we continued our entry dance around the room, before finally collapsing into our seats at the head table. He pushed my water glass to me, while he drank his then leaned close to me again.

"The trick to partying is to stay hydrated," he said. "Always drink water when you drink alcohol. It takes care of the hangover as well."

The evening went way too fast as we ate, drank, danced our first dance (Perfect by Ed Sheeran), then cut the cake, threw the garter and the bouquet. Every time my father tried to come over to me, Bucky whisked me away to dance or to meet some of his friends. When it was time for us to make our getaway, he picked me up, threw me over his shoulder and carried me out to the limousine, making me laugh. As soon as we got inside, he told the driver where to take us, then took my hand and kissed it. If I hadn't known better, I would swear that this was a man that really loved me. By the time we got to the hotel, I was quiet again, realizing that everything that Bucky did that night was a lie. It was fun but it was still a lie.

We checked in, went up to the hotel room, where our bags had already been dropped off, and Bucky tipped the bell boy before locking the door. Then he sat on a couch and patted the seat beside him. I didn't come over right away and he looked at me with puppy dog eyes, so I sat next to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Are you always this good of an actor? You had me believing for a moment that you ... that we were real."

"We are legally married," he answered. "I wasn't acting. I had a good time tonight. At first, I thought you were kind of a stick in the mud, but I realized that you just haven't really lived. You've been kept on a pretty short leash by your family, haven't you?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" I sighed. "I don't like confrontation and I tend to let people have their way."

He nodded his head. "Like me. I'm sorry. I was just trying to get you to have a good time. You did have a good time, right?" Bucky was right about that as I did have a good time. I nodded. "Look, if there is anything good to come out of this arrangement one of them will be you allowing yourself to have fun. No matter what happens, I kind of like you, so if we become friends from this, I'll be very happy. Finally, getting you what is due to you is the top priority. I'm not going to let your father cheat you out of what was negotiated."

I smiled at him, then bent over and undid my shoes, slipping them off. Bucky gestured to his lap, and I changed positions, so my feet lay on top of his legs. Gently, he took one foot in his hands and began to massage it. I groaned and made a face as he hit every spot that was sore, making it feel so much better. When he was finished with that, he did the other foot. When I withdrew my feet from his hands, he got up and went to the bathroom, coming out drying his hands on a towel.

"I've drawn you a bath," he said. "Take your time, play your favourite playlist and I'll get set up out here."

"I thought ...." I looked at him, puzzled.

"What kind of husband would I be if I abandoned you on our wedding night? We won't have sex, but we can sleep in the same bed. I'm tired and it's been a long day."

Opening my bag, I took out my toiletries and pyjamas. He grinned at the pink elephants on them, then showed me his pyjama bottoms, with cookies on them. I chuckled, then went to the bathroom and closed the door. When I came out half an hour later, Bucky was changed into his bottoms and a plain white T-shirt, there was soft music playing and a bottle of champagne was open. On top of the bed was a plate of chocolate covered strawberries. Patting the space next to him, he offered me a hand as I crawled on, then poured me a glass of champagne. Holding our glasses up he made a toast.

"Here's to having a good time together, not a long time," he said. "Hopefully, we come out of this as friends because good friends are rare, and you can never have enough good friends."

We sipped the champagne, then he held a strawberry for me as I bit into it, before popping the rest of it in his mouth with a cheeky grin. For an hour we talked about ourselves, growing up in families that were focused on business more than anything else. I learned that Bucky lost his mother at a young age when she died of cancer. He went to boarding school, which he admitted could have made him bitter, but he formed some deep friendships and found some adults to have a meaningful substitute parent relationship with. His college years were spent mostly partying, but he did enough work to get his degree in finance and understood enough about business to agree that this marriage arrangement would keep both of our father's companies from inflicting fatal blows on each other. As I told him about being the quiet child in the family who seemed to always be ignored and forgotten when decisions were made, he frowned and held my hand, kissing it from time to time.

It was easy to talk to him and I cried a little that night. But he comforted me and when my yawns started coming more, he insisted I get under the covers. We curled up and faced each other in the dark. Before I closed my eyes he whispered.

"Sleep tight, pretty girl."

No one had ever called me pretty before.

For the next month, Bucky was pretty attentive. My father finally succeeded in cornering me to ask what the hell I was trying to do by bringing up the divorce agreement. Maybe being so much in Bucky's presence had rubbed off on me because I asked him why the lawyer thought I signed the money over to him. He grabbed my wrist and began to twist it when my husband walked in and quickly grabbed my father's wrist, surprising him with the strength of his grip.

"You don't ever touch my wife like that again," said Bucky, gritting his teeth a little. "I brought up the divorce agreement and was shocked that a father would be so cold-hearted to his daughter to literally try to pick her pocket before she even had any money in it. You want this deal to go through? Then you restore the agreement to what I signed; the money belongs to her. Otherwise, we get an annulment, and you get nothing."

"You can't annul the marriage," huffed my father. "You were together on the wedding night."

"We were but we didn't consummate the marriage," replied Bucky, throwing daggers at my father with his bright blue eyes. "Make sure you amend that divorce agreement and I want to be there when my wife signs it. You got that?"

He released my father, put his arm around me and led me away. We signed the amended agreement two days later that stipulated the money, house, car and child support, when we divorced, would go to me and only me.

Once a week, Bucky went out with his friends, partying. He always wore his wedding ring when the paparazzi took photographs of him and for quite a while he was careful, as there were no pictures of him going off with another woman. I knew he was seeing them, because he would come home smelling of their perfume, before he showered, put on his funky pyjama bottoms and slipped into bed, usually spooning behind me, something that he said he liked even though we had separate bedrooms.

Since the marriage agreement called for two children, Bucky arranged for us to visit the IVF clinic and we both underwent testing. He must have paid the doctor and staff there a lot of money to keep their questions to themselves because none of them ever said anything about why two healthy individuals who just got married didn't make a baby the old-fashioned way. I had to undergo shots to stimulate my ovaries so they could harvest multiple eggs. Then Bucky provided them with semen to fertilize the eggs in preparation for insertion into my uterus. Over the next few months, none of them implanted and I began to develop anxiety about it. He was great, never once blaming me. There were even a couple of occasions when he didn't go out with his friends and stayed home to comfort me when my period started, dashing our hopes once again.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, I realized something, about how I felt about him. It wasn't something I expected, falling in love with a man who made it clear from the start that friendship would be the most he could offer me. For as long as I could, I kept it to myself, not wanting to appear needy to Bucky. He had been wonderful and so kind to me. But after that realization, every time I saw him get ready to go out and knew that he would return smelling of someone else, it was inevitable that I finally said something.

"Don't go out," I whispered, one night, just as he came out of his bedroom, dressed in one of his Armani suits. "Please."

He looked at me as if I was joking then saw the pain in my eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sitting next to me.

"Stay home," I answered. "Don't go out with your friends tonight."

"I have to," he said. "We're on the VIP list at a new club opening. I'll be back before morning. After a little sleep-in we can spend the day together, maybe take a drive out to the coast." He smoothed my hair, then kissed my forehead. "Sleep tight, pretty girl."

He left without a backwards glance, and I cried. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last, especially when the paparazzi succeeded in acquiring a picture of Bucky and a starlet kissing each other. He apologized but the crack between us was there, and it would only get worse. The night it was the worst was the night I almost died.

We were supposed to be at a charity event together, but he texted to say he was running late, and he would meet me there. Of course, when I showed up without him, I was swarmed by photographers, all of them asking where Bucky was and who he was with. Ignoring them as best as I could I entered the venue and was shown to my table, seated with several other wives of prominent individuals. Even though I had improved my social skills and learned to have more fun, these women weren't inclined to be friendly and after enduring their whispered comments with no word from Bucky I decided to go home. A car service had dropped me off but expecting Bucky to arrive in his car we didn't book a return trip. There were no taxis available, so I began to walk, trying to hail one as I walked. Somewhere, along the way, I began to cry like the pathetic little individual I always knew I was. Funny how quickly I crumbled, when I figured that even Bucky had enough of me.

I woke up in the emergency room, with a bright light glaring down on me, a collar around my neck, a tube down my throat and IVs in my arms. A doctor leaned over me until I looked at him then began asking me questions, but I couldn't speak, not with the tube blocking my voice. He told me I walked out into traffic without looking and was hit by a car. My heart stopped twice but they brought me back. Was there anyone they should call? I tried to point at my wedding ring as Bucky was the only person I wanted to see, but my arms were splinted as apparently, I thrashed around too much when I was out. He figured it out and held up my phone. Painfully, I signalled the code numbers with my fingers, and he unlocked it then phoned Bucky. Returning a moment later he bent over me again.

"He's on his way. Hang in there, okay? Nothing's broken but you do have internal injuries."

I moaned since there was really no other way to communicate. I must have fallen asleep or passed out because when I woke up again, I was in an ICU hospital room, there were the sounds of several monitors, and Bucky was sitting on a chair, with his head in his hands. He looked up at a sound I must have made and immediately came to my side, placing his hand on mine. All I saw in his eyes were guilt and sorrow.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he said. "This is all my fault. I was supposed to be there with you, but I let others distract me and before I even realized that I had missed the whole event I got the call from the doctor."

I closed my eyes, feeling the tears streaming down from them. His apology, though sincere, really meant nothing. He promised to be my friend and instead, he did what my family had done my whole life, ignored me. To me, it was proof that I was truly meaningless in this world, that I was insignificant. I felt a cloth on my face and opened my eyes to see Bucky wiping my tears away with a washcloth. Painfully, I turned my head away from him.

"Please, don't," he begged. "Don't be angry with me. I fucked up. I know I did. I thought we could get through the two years and be friends, but I haven't been a good friend to you."

I still didn't look at him. I wasn't angry but I was disappointed. He tried to take my hand in his, but I pulled it away, bringing a distressed sound out of him. It must have affected me because a nurse came in to check the monitors and suggested that Bucky go home and come back in the morning. He put up an argument, but she convinced him that I needed to rest. Reluctantly, he agreed and bent over me, kissing me on the forehead.

"I'll do all I can to make it up to you," he whispered. "You were the last person I ever wanted to hurt."

He left then and I eventually fell asleep. Those first few days he was there from early in the morning until late at night. His father visited the second day, and I was aware of a fairly emotional whispered conversation between him and Bucky. None of my family visited. Three days in they took the tube out of my throat, confident that my bruised lungs and ribs were strong enough for me to breathe on my own. It still hurt to speak, almost as much as I was hurting emotionally. Bucky watched me with glassy eyes after the doctor and nurse left, seeming almost afraid to say anything. I looked at him, and the tears began to fall again, in earnest this time. Even though my body hurt I sobbed, and he was right there, his chair pulled up to the edge of the bed, kissing my hand.

"How can I make it better?" he asked. "Please, tell me."

"You won't," I answered, my voice raspy. "You made it clear from our wedding day that you weren't the faithful type. We can't be friends anymore."

"No, please, don't say that," he pleaded. "I need you. Don't you know that?"

I shook my head. "I don't know anything anymore; except every time you walk out the door to be with someone else it hurts so much. Loving you wasn't supposed to happen, but it did."

"You love me?" he asked, not quite believing what I was saying.

I looked away, then nodded my head. "You were nicer to me than anyone I ever met. Then suddenly you were gone more and then you didn't show up last night."

I covered my face with my hands and wept. The edge of the bed dipped slightly as he sat there, then he was carefully lifting me up in his arms to hold me.

"I'm sorry." He stroked my hair. "You know there are times I wake up at night and you're talking in your sleep. Strange, weird stuff, about kangaroos and jungle roads, and stuffing your face with hot dogs at a ball game. One night, I spoke to you, and we carried on a weird conversation. When I finally said you should go back to sleep, you said okay. Then you said good night and that you loved me. Just the way you said it I knew you were telling the truth. It frightened me because I'm not a good person. I party and sleep around too much, I spend money like it will never end, and I never once told anyone other than my mother that I loved them. She died, and it got into my head that if I loved someone, I would lose them someday." He touched my wedding ring, running his fingertip on it. "Then I almost lost you and I never once told you that I was falling in love with you, a love that I was scared to feel."

"You don't love me," I scoffed.

"I love that you listen to me and follow my lead, even when you really don't want to at first. I love your goofy pyjamas and how cuddly they make you feel when you're sleeping in my arms. I love that I would rather ... be here in the hospital begging for your forgiveness and love, than partying with people who only want to ignore the real world. With you, I have real fun, where I laugh and feel good about helping you and being there for you, because that makes me feel good about myself."

"That's not love," I murmured.

"Maybe not but I know that I don't want to be anywhere but near you."

I looked at him, truly looked at him and saw a man with bags under his bloodshot eyes, his hair was sticking out at odd angles because he had fallen asleep in the armchair of the hospital room, and he had several days of beard stubble on his face because he hadn't shaved. This from a man who took pride in how he looked. He wasn't dressed well, like he normally was when he appeared in public. He looked like a mess, and it was because he loved me, and thought he had lost me.

"Do you think we could start over?" he asked, those puppy dog eyes suddenly prominent, even in their bloodshot state. "After you get better, we can go away and just be ourselves, without any family or the business bothering us. I don't care where and it doesn't have to be fancy or expensive. I just want to be with you."

"No more partying with your friends at nightclubs?" I asked. "No more sleeping with other women? Just you and me?"

"Just you and me," he repeated. "The only person I want to sleep with is you, when you're ready."

I couldn't help it. I sobbed again and began to cry. Immediately, Bucky began to kiss my face. Then he looked in my eyes, placed his hand on my cheek and kissed me for real, a soft and sweet kiss that said I was the most important person in his world.

He was as good as his word. Once I was released, he leased a guest house on the coast. It was quiet, far enough away from the other houses on that stretch of windswept beach that we could pretend we were alone. We visited farmer's markets, picking up fresh food for meals that Bucky cooked for me, trying but not always succeeding in his attempts. It didn't matter because we were together and that was the real reason we were there. We walked; short distances at first as I got my strength back, then longer where we would take our time and pick up interesting shells and rocks on the beach. Sometimes we kept them, sometimes we tossed them back into the ocean. Not once did he look at his cellphone. In fact, the charge ran out and he left it on the kitchen counter as a reminder that he wanted all of his attention on me. At night, we curled up in front of the fireplace until I fell asleep, and he would carry me in his arms to bed, helping me into my comfy pyjamas, before changing into his own and spooning behind me.

One night we had a storm, with pounding waves, thunder and lightning, and a wind that rattled every window in the house. He held me until I fell asleep. When I woke up, I looked at his sleeping face, admiring his straight nose, defined cheekbones, and the cleft in his chin. He must have sensed I was looking at him because he opened his eyes, those blue grey eyes that seemed to change colour like the ocean did whenever it was peaceful or angry. There must have been something in my eyes that morning because Bucky kissed me differently, then looked at me in a way he never had before. As his hands moved under my top, and caressed my skin, he shifted so that he was looking over me. I nodded yes, and he smiled softly, before kissing me again and pressing his body against mine.

As pieces of clothing were discarded, we explored each other's bodies, responding with soft sounds as we awakened our sensuous side. It was lovemaking that started out slowly, then built in intensity as Bucky showed me physically how much I meant to him. I had never been that intimate with anyone before, even though I thought I had with the few boyfriends of my limited experience. None of the others made me feel what he did and any last doubts I may have had about his devotion to me were erased. I was in love, truly in love for the first time and so was Bucky.

For six weeks we lived in this bubble where only we existed. Then Bucky plugged his phone in, and all the notifications sounded, one after another for almost an hour. He deleted the ones from his partying friends. They were part of his past now. There were a couple from my father, demanding to know where we were. Then there were the others from his father and lawyers. As he read them, he sighed then looked at me and sat in an armchair, pulling me onto his lap.

"When you were in the ICU, I asked my father for a favour," he said. "I asked him how we could take over your father's company."

"Why?" I asked. "Our marriage was the agreement to keep the competition equal with him, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was but when I demanded that your father amend that divorce agreement, he did something stupid and frankly, unethical. He entered into a secret agreement with an overseas company and contracted with them to provide him with the same product at a fraction of the cost. They aren't the same quality, but he is selling them for a bit less than ours, and he makes more profit on them. It's cut into our profits. We'll be alright because Dad's R&D division are already testing the update that would have been brought out at the end of the two years when we were originally going to get divorced. Of course, now, we're not getting divorced."

"We're not?" I asked, my heart racing a little.

"Nope. You've got me for life." He shrugged. "But it means you don't get your 100 million, although you do get a house and car. They were my late wedding presents to you." He cleared his throat. "Do you know how your father has his company structured?"

"No, I assumed he owns and runs it himself," I said.

"Well, he is CEO, but he doesn't exactly own it, at least not all of it," said Bucky. "It's actually shared between your dad, your siblings and yourself. He's never paid you dividends or anything from the company, has he?"

"No, I didn't know any of it," I said. "I feel stupid now, but I always assumed he had total control."

"I think you were kept in deliberate ignorance of it, and he used some shady tax loopholes to keep the money that was yours out of your hands. It doesn't appear he did the same thing to your siblings which led me to wonder why he has always seemed to be so cold-hearted to you."

It was true, my dad never really liked me. I was aware of that from my earliest memories. Bucky's hand on my mine drew my attention back to him.

"He's not your dad." I opened my mouth then closed it. "He was married to your mother when you were born but your father was someone else. The company was her's and he had no choice but to declare you as his daughter at your birth. When she died, she left the company divided up between all of you."

"My mother's not dead," I said.

"She's not your mother, she's your stepmother," he replied. "Originally, she was your dad's mistress. He married her a month after your mother died, when you were two years old. Since then, your father has cheated you out of everything that should have been yours."

"What do I do?" I asked.

"You could launch takeover plans of your own, but I think it would expose you to investigation and possibly prosecution if the full story of how your father operates becomes public." That wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing considering how he cheated me. Bucky smiled a little. "I think you should turn him in. Report him to the FBI, the IRS, and any other regulatory agency that oversees corporations. They'll freeze all the assets of the company while they investigate and once they confirm what my dad found out; you won't be a subject of investigation. You'll be recognized as a victim of a long-term plan to swindle you out of your inheritance. You can even bring a private civil suit against him. At the least it will expose your father and your family to some pretty intense public scrutiny. There might be some criticism about you, but I'll be with you while this happens, and I won't let anyone associate you with them."

I considered his words. For someone who said he barely passed his university courses he sounded pretty sure of himself and of what we should do. Just at that moment I felt like I had to throw up and I ran from him to the bathroom, emptying my stomach. His hands were on my hair, gently pulling it back so it didn't get soiled. Then he gave me a glass of water as I sat on the floor. A strange but satisfied smile was on his face.

"You haven't had a period since we first got here," he said.

I stopped drinking the water and looked up at him. "Do you think I'm pregnant?"

He shrugged then kneeled down to play with the ends of my hair. "Maybe. We can pick up a pregnancy test on the trip back to the city."

Something occurred to me. "The grandchildren clause ... who asked for that?"

He smiled. "My dad. I'm an only child so he wanted to make sure that I had heirs before I died because of my partying ways. If you are pregnant, I'll be happy and so will he. I'm going to be more involved in the company but not to the extent that you feel left out. In fact, my dad thinks you might be a good fit for the Board of Directors. We can work together and take over managing it when he retires."

"I don't know anything about business," I protested.

"I'll teach you," he smiled. "Say yes, to staying as my wife, the mother of my child, and partner in business. There's no one else I want to have it all with."

I agreed and his smile lit me up inside. When we returned to the city, the lawyers that his dad retained helped me turn my father and siblings in for the irregularities of how they ran my mother's business. Like Bucky said, several agencies became interested, and they confirmed that I had been cheated out of tens of millions of dollars worth of income and compensation. There were many shady deals they engaged in, and even the ones that weren't shady, like the marriage arrangement between Bucky and me, weren't always honoured. It took a long time for the whole thing to wind its way through the legal system but when it did, it was my company, and mine alone, as the Board of Directors fired my father and siblings after they were forced to divest their holdings in order to pay years of back taxes on the income they didn't declare. When Bucky's father, George Barnes, proposed a merger I accepted, being offered the position of Chief Ethics Officer in the combined companies.

There was something else that happened. On the way home from the coast, we stopped and picked up a home pregnancy test. The next morning, we waited as the stick processed the urine sample. The word Pregnant appeared and we accepted that our life was going to change. Bucky left behind the party lifestyle completely, becoming the partner in life I had always dreamed of. When our son was born, he was hands on as a father and stayed that way with each child we had, four in all. Some people said we lived a charmed life, but it wasn't always that way.

I never felt truly loved until I survived my accident and confessed my love to my husband. Bucky, who had dealt with his own trauma of his mother's death and being sent to boarding school at a young age, had lived a life of shallowness, afraid to truly be intimate with anyone, until he almost lost me. Our sham marriage ultimately brought him and his father closer together, healing the rift that had kept them apart. With the trust we built between us we formed a new family, made richer by the birth of our children. Although my biological father was dead, he did have children, born after his affair with my mother. We got along well, and they became my new siblings. Whatever cold-hearted life I suffered before I agreed to marry a man I didn't know didn't matter, as Bucky and I showered our own family with all the love we could muster. Above all else, we were happy.

One shots masterlist

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[morsmordre-writes]

designated spider killer - masterlist

Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Yelena accidentally plays matchmaker, Bucky pretends he doesn't want to live out his friends to lovers dream, and you're just trying to live your life... too bad a stalker wants to be apart of it.

Warnings: vulgar language/ topics, or at least kind of

masterlist | twitter profiles

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][epilogue]

[buckrecs]

ur account is my absolute go to!!! any chance u could rec biker!bucky fics 🥺🥺🥺

Biker!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Wanted by @jadedvibes

You consider ending things with Bucky after seeing a girl come on to him, but it's not that easy, and you get a hard reminder about who he really wants in the clubhouse bathroom.

Best Friends? Nah. by @wicked-mind

Classic best friends don’t realize feelings for each other until someone points it out.

Business as Usual by @world-of-aus

Not My Babe by @avecra

After a nasty break up to a nearly two year relationship, you find yourself dragged to a bar by your best friend, though a familiar blue-eyed biker makes the best of your crappy situation.

rough around the edges by @wndalovebot

Let Me Love You Old School by @mysecretlittlelibrary

Bucky meets you at a diner and plans to sweep you completely off your feet.

The Bogeyman and Other Monstrosities by @pellucid-constellations

As the local biker club president, Bucky Barnes had a reputation for being tougher than nails and feared by many—he’d never be caught dead at a halloween street fair. Too bad his best girl always got what she wanted.

Waiting Game by @buckychrist

You knew being associated with one of the most notorious and dangerous biker gangs in the city was bad, let alone scandalously dating their kingpin in secret, but you never thought you’d have to face those consequences. Until now.

Home by @all1e23

Bucky runs into his ex at a winter carnival the MC is helping host, but she didn’t come alone.

Whatever It Takes by @sgtjbuccky

Bucky Barnes knows the way to drive you up the wall in frustration, fed up with it, you show him that you know how to play just the same.

deny me by @drewbarymore

In which you feel like Bucky’s ashamed of you.

Drunk, Dumped and Empty by @green-eyeddragonfanfiction

After a nasty breakup, you go out drinking. After an absolute creep hits on you, you’re saved from a concussion by a mysterious, kind man, who reveals himself to be Bucky Barnes. The bar you’re in is a bit suspect, but you never expected him to be head of a biker gang.

yayo by @sergeantxrogers

“I need you safe. I need you here, and I need you safe, and I need, God please, I need you to let me in, baby, just let me in and I promise I’ll make it all better,” his broken voice pleaded through the door.

Drabble by @fandoms-writings

Biker!Bucky x tattooed!reader

hot and cold by @bucksfucks

you & bucky had never gotten along, but when your ex-boyfriend ransom turns up at the same bar you’re at, bucky goes to every length to protect you.

How To Get Away With Murder by @empyreanwritings

Bucky was always good at helping you clean up your messes, which is why he doesn't bat an eye when you show up on his doorstep covered in your abusive boyfriend's blood.

Hush by @buckysknifecollection

Bucky finds a stray kitten but he doesn’t know anything about cats. A friendly librarian helps him out.

little favors by @onceuponastory

Since Bucky saved her from her shitty boss, Y/N hasn’t seen him again. For a while, she gets closer and closer to giving up hope. Until he comes back. And this time, he’s asking for her help.

SERIES

Swallow by @all1e23

Since he was fifteen years old, Bucky Barnes has only been sure of two things; the club should be the most essential thing in his life, and he’d burn it all down for you.

Delicate Edges by @wkemeup

Your family’s beloved flower shop was not the only thing you inherited when your parents passed. Trapped under a mountain of debt to the Hydra club, you bear the cost of your father’s desperate bargain. It’s only in moments when the charming Bucky Barnes walks into your shop that you can forget the cruelty of the biker clubs of this town. But a war is brewing. The border is crumbling. You're trapped in the middle. And Bucky will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

For The Best by @metalbuckaroo

Bucky is tired of waiting for you to realize what you're doing. He does the only thing he can think of to break the cycle.

White Horses by @whitewolfbumble

Kicked out of school and exiling yourself in a town time forgot, one little incident lands the sights of the locally infamous Avengers biker gang square on you. Wild horses run faster and there was no chance to turn back now.

Howlin’ For You by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

When Y/N gets an unreal deal on her first home, she wonders why her neighbor scared away all the other buyers. Despite being cautious, she wonders why the town has given Bucky Barnes a bad name.

Brotherhood & Bullets by @rookthorne

The 107th motorcycle club has been the protector of their collective hometown for many, many years - shouldering all the bloodshed and loss that came with it. Little did you know, you'd become the President's own twisted version of an angel on his shoulder; the tips of your angelic wings tinged red by your own demons.

Stars & Stripes, Studs & Spikes by @buckyismybicycle

The crew has always been tight, but you and Bucky are best of friends. When Bucky sees Brock's mark on you, he nearly loses it and wants to end Brock for good. But, there's something more important - keeping you safe.

call me baby by @cherryrogers

Returning to Brooklyn for the summer after a year of travelling from city to city, you hadn’t expected to find your best friend, Peggy Carter, hopelessly in love with a biker, and when she decided to introduce you to the rest of his club, you hadn’t expected to fall for one either — that was until you met one with pretty eyes and a habit of calling you baby.

Masterlist by @angrythingstarlight

Masterlist by @metalbuckaroo