#first bucky fic

[brairslair]

a/n: pov i can’t stop thinking about giving bucky barnes head! but like, in a sappy romantic and fluffy kinda way ! <3 not proofread

18+ ONLY (minors dni)

please feel free to like, comment, reblog, and follow to support my work! it always makes my day xx

You leave feather light kisses along his skin, trailing your lips closer to where he needs you. Neither of you dare to break eye contact, feeling safe in each other’s gaze. As your affections move their way upward, so do your hands, taking your time to cover every inch of skin you can reach until you meet the hem of his boxers. You watch him closely, scanning for any sign of discomfort, delicately gliding your fingers beneath the elastic waistband. With a flick of his tongue, you pull them slowly down his thighs, and a shaky sigh leaves his lungs. You smile.

You want tonight to be about Bucky. Your sweet, selfless, wonderful Bucky.

You want to show him all the love in the world and more, and you want to help him understand that he deserves every bit of it.

You delicately wrap your fingers around the base of his shaft, gently squeezing before licking a long stripe up the side. His eyes close momentarily before opening right back up to look at you. You can tell by the way he’s eying you that he’s trying to soak in every little detail.

You’re sure your pupils are in the shape of hearts.

His breath wavers as you wrap your lips around his tip, gently swirling your tongue around it before experimentally licking the slit. His shiny lips part in a gentle moan, breathy and light, and you feel your confidence boost when he relaxes further into the bedding.

You continue swirling around the head a few times before you take all of him. You slowly sink down, watching his jaw drop lower and lower, until your nose brushes against his skin. You watch him through watery eyes, glowing at the way his head lulls back. His breathing picks up, letting out sweet little sighs as you start to pick up your pace with it. You already feel dizzy at the sight of him, lips parted and chest heaving, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat.

You let your tongue flatten against the underside of his length, heart squeezing in your chest when you notice his fingers twitch at his sides. You intertwine your fingers with his, placing his left hand on the top of your head. The warmth of your skin against his grounds him.

Your unwavering eye contact is all he needs to know that you’re okay with him touching you. He’s allowed to touch you like this.

It’s just him and you.

His cool mechanical fingers tangle lightly in your hair as you continue your ministrations. You can tell when he stops himself from being vocal, and you squeeze his hand to reassure him that it’s okay. That you want him to feel good. You want to hear him.

The closer you bring him to release, the more relaxed he becomes under your touch. You’re sure to keep your pace nice and steady; Just enough to gradually bring him over the edge. You want to make sure he feels it in his bones.

His moans are soft, gentle sighs, and groans, and whimpers of your name tumbling from his lips. You hold his hand through it all, never looking anywhere but at him, even if his eyes need to shut for a moment or two.

You can tell he’s right on the edge when his hand moves from your hair to cheek, gently holding you still with “I love you” falling from his lips. He happily lets you take him apart and put him back together again.

my asks are open!

[doyelikehaggis]

Definitely not a new concept but I propose: Sciles dressing up as Captain America and Winter Soldier for Halloween.

also, a more casual option:

[johnslittlespoon]

this is me hitting y'all with a "hear me out" on bikeriders!gale and college student leaving!john. pleasepleaseplease think of the cliche daddy issues. the slow burn angst. strong intimidating but softie biker bf pulling up to pretty college bf's house. gale passing his helmet to john while john's parents watch from the kitchen window in horror as their son gets on the back of a rugged tatted man's motorcycle. john stealing gale's hoodie when he stays over so he can 'accidentally' wear it home the next day and bury his face in the smell of gale's cigarettes and cologne and gasoline and open road.

or, alternatively, bikeriders!gale is leaving!john's friend's single dad lmaoo. classic dilf crush trope. john makes a new friend at college and the first time he goes to his house he meets his dad and is like fuck. well, that's it for me. he crushes hard from day one and has no idea gale feels the same way because he's dense and gale's not gonna make the first move obviously. and god, the miscommunication and the secret flirting and the hookups and dancing around feelings because neither is sure if it's more than sex for the other. i could fill three books with this shit genuinely <3

idk i just think the contrast of both of them would be such a fun dynamic to explore and they'd look fucking beautiful together :-)

(this is definitely not me gauging the interest were i to make this my next chaptered fic btw. absolutely not. xx)

(edit: we're going with the first idea lads. world building is happening. i'm in my mind palace. we're yapping under #leaving bikeriders au lol)

(july edit: it's a whole fic now lmao. #tough and sweet fic mwah, but also posts pre–july are still under #leaving bikeriders au :P)

[caustinen]

clegan drabble 💞📑⚖️

— secret relationship / lawyer au

Gale is deep in thought, staring at the papers in his hand with a slight frown. He doesn’t look up when someone knocks on his open office door — mainly because he can tell it’s Bucky without having to check. It’s evident by — well, everything, the rhythm of his steps when they approached, the way the air smells of smugness and his favorite cologne, and the firmness in which he knocked.

Fair enough, the footsteps continue further without waiting for invitation. Gale puffs out a breath, gesturing with his occupied hands, still not looking up. ”I know we’re supposed to be having dinner right now but I just got the new evidence on the Hausmann case this afternoon and- Mpfh!”

He’s very rudely interrupted by a pair of insistent lips pressing to his. Bucky isn’t bothered by him not being ready for it in the slightest, just pulls him close by the waist — which is not tiny by the way, no matter what Bucky keeps insisting every time he grabs it in bed — and bites into the lush lips with his own with a passion that suggests it would’ve been quite a while longer than a couple of hours since he last did it.

Gale surrenders to the antics like it was a natural disaster — why fight what is inevitable? — but when John snatches the papers from his hands and throws them carelessly to the table behind himself Gale makes a protesting sound and presses his newly freed hands to his chest in mild protest.

”John,” he whines and the smirk on Bucky’s face makes him want to punch him almost as much as he wants to kiss is again, ”what are you-” ”The damn new copying machine jammed again, and I figured the only way I wouldn’t kick it was if I could jam my tongue to the back of your throat in turn.”

Gale looks at him blankly. ”That’s. Not-” ”I would of course prefer to destroy it by having you over it so hard that they’d have to buy a new one. We could really help the whole office with one easy, selfless act, doll.”

Gale scoffs but he knows Bucky can tell he’s fighting a smile. The second kiss is more gentle but still quite too intense for a work environment. Bucky has one hand around Gale’s waist and the other on his cheek, Gale’s are resting lazily on his hips as they indulge in each other, breathe quietly in their lovers lips and enjoy the forbidden bliss of doing this at work — it feels more meaningful than it is, really, like they’re not only breaking the rules of their office but also the deeper system it is embedded to; pleasure at work fights with the ideals of capitalism themselves, Gale would probably muse if he wasn’t so damn busy not thinking about anything but how lovely it is to kiss someone you love. He pushes John gently towards the table behind him and exhales as he bites his lowelip when John pulls him against his spread legs.

He needs to catch his breath though, and that’s when he realizes they are not even as thinly veiled as he would have hoped. ”You left the door open,” he says, trying to push him farther so the pose wouldn’t be so damning, ”my secretary-” ”I sent him away,” John says, uninterested, and tries to pull Gale closer by his tie. The younger doesn’t budge, though, but rather lifts a hand to his own lips and then looks at the fingers as if he could from there see how swollen, how incriminating, the scene they make looks.

”Anyone could walk in.” John groans and bites the air between them, running his hands down Gale’s sides. ”Don’t get me more excited than I already am, damn, sweetheart.” ”Oh for fuck’s sake-”

Bucky kisses him again to silence him, and despite a weak fight Gale allows it well enough. After, when Bucky pulls away, he takes Gale’s face between his palms and makes him look into his eyes.

”Baby. Everyone else left like an hour ago. It’s 8pm. You work too much. Time to call it a night.”

Gale stares at him, blinking a couple of times before slowly checking his watch and realizing John is not joking. He really has been at the office for more than 13 hours. Oops.

”I…” ”Save it, cowboy,” Bucky says with the easiness that Gale so loves about him as he stands up straight and takes Gale’s jacket from the chair. ”I love how much you care. I also love that I get to be the one who tells you when you’re an idiot workaholic and need to go home for a bit so you can be an idiot workaholic tomorrow too.” Gale sighs dramatically but does put on the coat Bucky is holding up for him.

”Well,” he says sheepishly as Bucky drags him out of the office by the hand and stops to lock the door, ”I can’t cook anything nice to apologize at home but maybe I can think of something else to reward such patience for my crime of attempting to serve justice.”

Bucky chukles, leaning up from the lock and and taking Gale’s hand to his. ”That copying machine gets to live one more day then,” he says and kisses Gale’s knuckles. Gale tries to swat him but he dodges. They’re both giggling and Gale knows he must be too tired when he’s this careless at the office but to be fair it is late and everyone truly is home. He dares one more kiss when they wait for the elevator.

People at their office don’t need to know about his personal life. They don’t need to know he’s fucking his boss. They don’t need to know that it’s been going on for years but it wasn’t until yesterday when Bucky had taken him into a fancy restaurant and told him he loves him and wants to be more than friends who have sex sometimes (quite frequently lately) (and exclusively) but still, he wants to be even more than that. They don’t need to know Gale’s heart had bursted in the moment when his deepest, most hidden dream had come true, and butterflies don’t even begin to explain the sensations those words set in motion. They don’t need to know he and Bucky made love all night, that he fell asleep in Bucky’s bed, and that he plans on doing that again tonight.

He looks at Bucky and feels a fondness that’s almost like pain as it stretches over the places in him that used to be longing and achiching. He looks down shyly before raising his eyes again, kissing Bucky’s knuckles in turn.

”My place or yours?”

[buckythinker]

Sick Day

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You’ve been fighting off an illness and Bucky wants to make sure you know you’re loved and that he’ll take care of you no matter what.

Tags: literally just fluff. lots of it.

Words: 595

(this is how he looks at u in this fic btw!)

“Here you are, darlin’” Bucky gently said, his Brooklyn accent ever so slightly slipping through as he placed a bowl of soup on your bedside table next to you. He’d been taking care of you for the last couple days after you caught the bug that was rapidly making its way round the Avengers Compound. You were wrapped up in bed shivering under several layers of blankets, vastly opposite to five minutes prior when you were sweating out the fever that wracked your body.

Bucky climbed onto the bed and sat next to you, bringing you a sense of warmth and comfort that no blanket could. You leaned into his chest as he put his right arm around you. You could smell the familiar scent of his woody cologne.

“Thank you Buck” you said with a weak smile, giving his vibranium hand a squeeze and softly pulled it to rest on your thigh.

“Of course. Anything you need, my love. Just let me know”

Despite not yet catching the illness himself, he didn’t mind taking care of you and exposing himself to the potential risk. Though he knew deep down that it wouldn’t affect him anywhere near as bad as it did everyone else due to being a super soldier. He loved you too much and made it his top priority to make sure you knew it.

He kissed the crown of your head and began to run his right hand up and down your arm. You looked up and gave him a quick peck on his cheek in an attempt to not pass on the awful illness that was keeping you from loving him properly. His soft gaze met yours as he looked down at you, the adoration behind his eyes making you want to never leave his arms.

“I don’t know how you do it” he observed, his eyes scanning your face.

“Do what?” Your brows furrowed, trying to understand what he meant.

“Look so beautiful while fighting off a sickness that’s wiping out the rest of the team” his eyes ever so quickly dipping to your lips, but just as fast returned back to meet your gaze. You smiled and looked away timidly, blushing profusely as you felt an overwhelming sense of love spread through your chest.

“Yeah, right. I don’t think I’ve ever looked worse” you said with a small laugh. He removed his hand from your thigh and gently took your chin and titled it up to meet his eyes again.

“Would I ever lie to you?” He spoke so delicately, not once looking away from you or letting go of your chin.

“S’pose not” you answered, a shy smile forming on your lips.

“Then believe me when I tell you how lovely you look. Wouldn’t want my pretty girl thinkin’ otherwise” your smile grew, as did the feeling in your chest. You loved him so much and he always made sure you knew it. He pulled you in for a soft kiss.

“I love you” you said as you pulled away, leaning into his chest even more.

“I love you most” he answered as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers trailing down the side of your cheek before placing it back on your thigh. “Now eat your soup before it gets cold while I grab you another blanket, I can feel you shivering darlin’”

“Don’t need another blanket when I have my super soldier boyfriend to warm me up”

“Can’t argue with that” he smiled as he pulled you closer, never wanting to let you go.

~~~~~~~~~~~

notes: my first fic! never published anything i’ve written before so i hope it’s alright hehe… read over a few times but i apologise if i’ve missed any mistakes! hope u all enjoy 💕

[actualbuckybames]

Another scene from that fic I haven't posted. Excerpt of this scene under the cut

---

Bucky falls the instant he steps inside the facility. Vertigo takes hold and then he’s falling, falling away from himself and away from the howling storm trying to tear him apart. He falls and the Soldier weathers the storm, the memories hitting him like hail. It’s just pain. Pain and noise. He’s done more under worse conditions.

He takes the pain and burns it like fuel as he plunges into the depths, puts the noise where it can’t disrupt his focus. The mission is to confirm this facility’s purpose and purge it. No prisoners. As always, no survivors.

A quarter of them try to fight. They die.

A quarter of them try to run. They die.

The rest beg for their lives. They die.

The last makes a stand in the bare concrete room housing the cryo unit. He manages to separate the Soldier from his guns with a kind of stun baton that leaves the metal arm jolting and uncooperative, but on his next lunge, the Soldier grabs the baton halfway down the shaft with his right hand and crushes it.

His left arm resets and locks in for a punch that sends the man crashing into the cryo pod. Though blood streams from his nose, he fumbles at his waist and unsheathes a knife. The Soldier almost smiles. When the Soldier draws one of the tantos from his back, the man pales. He’s fast enough to dodge when the Soldier whips it at his head and just barely quick enough to catch the second tanto on his own blade when the Soldier closes the gap.

Caught up in the flurry of blows, the Soldier lets the grin twist his lips under his mask. This man is good. Very, very good. As good as anyone can get with unmodified flesh and bone.

But he is unmodified. Sweat gleams on his face and he pants with each lunge, parry, and dodge. The Soldier feels no exhaustion and gives no quarter, chasing him around the small space and ensuring he never has any delusions of reaching the door.

For a minute, the man thinks he’s holding his own. The Soldier lets him think that. It feels good to stretch these muscles, to wield a knife in a way he hasn’t since fighting Captain America—

Fighting Steve—

“Перешеек,” the man gasps, and the Soldier freezes. That is what that word means: silence and stillness. The land between shifting waters, immovable and eternal. His muscles lock. The arm’s plates lock. Everything locks and his thoughts break against his body in waves.

The man doubles over with his hands on his knees and heaves for breath. Drops of sweat splatter on the floor, joining the blood he’s shed from the dozen small cuts the Soldier has inflicted on him over the course of their fight.

They’re fighting. Right. But the man said перешеек—he’s a handler. The Soldier obeys the handler.

“Fuck,” the man straightens and glares at the Soldier, “you are fucking terrifying.”

The Soldier cannot respond, but his muscles are starting to itch with a need to move. There is a headache crawling out from the base of his skull with a sound like a scream.

“You killed all of them, didn’t you?” He peers past the Soldier, towards the door. “I don’t understand why they keep saying to bring you back alive. You’re not worth this.”

He knows: the knife in his hand belongs in the man’s eye, in his brain. But перешеек holds him fast. Can’t disobey the handler. Can’t move. Can’t do anything other than watch as the handler steps close and lines up his own knife.

“Fuck that,” the man says, face contorting in anger. “Fuck you.”

He drives the knife into the Soldier’s chest.

Pain crashes through the Soldier’s mind in a tsunami that rips away the shackles of перешеек. Clarity, as it always does even without the burn of electricity, follows in its wake: this man isn’t his handler. He doesn’t have authority to override the mission. The mission is to take no prisoners and leave no survivors and he is still alive.

The Soldier’s left hand slams into the man’s chest and throws him back. Something cracks on impact; a rib, from the man’s grunt and subsequent gasp. With his right hand, the Soldier rips the knife out of his chest. The man’s next sound of pain is cut off by that knife when Soldier drives up into his brain through the fleshy underside of his jaw. A puppet with its strings cut, the man crumples and the Soldier lets him fall. Even lets him keep the knife.

For just a moment, the room is silent, no more echoes of combat bouncing off its bare gray walls. The Soldier’s breathing is the loudest sound.

He spares the next moment to examine the tear in his jacket. The wound beneath is bleeding heavily from him pulling the knife out but, upon inspection, it shows itself to be narrow and small. At the angle he struck at, the blade must have hit bone, to be stopped from going any deeper. Or the man underestimated the Soldier’s muscle density and the force required to rip through it.

The wound requires cleaning, but he halts his steps toward the exit and the medical supplies beyond when a quiet beep reaches his ears. It’s a sound he knows, a sound deeper than anything a knife can reach. He turns and faces the cryo pod. The beep comes again. Underneath it is the soft hiss of air through narrow tubes. His left hand twitches and he crosses the room in three long strides.

There’s a man in the cryo pod. That doesn’t make sense; this is the Soldier’s pod, even if he has no intention of using it ever again.

He wipes at the fog on the small window and frowns at the pale, gaunt face framed with ice crystals that rests on the other side. That frown deepens when the face and its tousled blond hair tugs at frosted strings of memory in his mind. As the monitor beeps a soft and infrequent report on the man’s vitals, recognition gives way to vertigo and the Soldier—no, no, James, Bucky, my name is Bucky—nearly collapses against the pod. Frigid metal bites into what little exposed skin makes contact but he doesn’t feel it because his eyes are fixed on Steve. Steve, who’s stuck in the pod. Steve, who’s stripped of his serum and small and week and frozen. Steve, whose vitals are sounding off ever slower while Bucky’s own heartbeat thunders in his ears.

GET HIM OUT. The order screams through his thoughts and tears up everything else on its way. He’s slamming his fist on the emergency release before he even thinks to move. But the pod doesn’t open. Doesn’t open when he hits the release again. Doesn’t open when he tries the actual command sequence for defrosting. Doesn’t open when he slams his fist into it with a shout. And still Steve's vitals are slowing.

Static bites at his focus and black creeps in at the edges of his vision. All he can see is the cryo chamber. Steve. Steve. That cold—he wouldn’t wish it on anyone. It never leaves. It’s enough to kill Stevie. More than enough.

God, he might already be dead. When was the last beep?

“Stay with me,” he begs the silent figure while he claws at every seam in the pod, hunting for purchase. “Don’t you dare quit, you’re too stubborn to stop now, you hear me? Too stubborn by half. Stay with me, don’t leave.”

He hasn’t heard a beep in—

In—

His metal hand smashes into the side of the pod, denting the metal enough to expose a lip he can fasten his fingers around. He rips the panel away with a roar but it’s just an exterior support. There are so many more. So many.

He’s yelling at Steve, now, so Steve can hear him over the sound of Bucky tearing apart the pod. Screaming for him to stay, to wake up, to stay god please stay, because the monitor isn’t beeping anymore and—

The last hinge gives way with a shriek and the pod door goes crashing across the room. Searingly cold air blasts over him, forcing his eyes into a squint, but he reaches in blindly with his left hand and finds—

Nothing. The pod is empty. Blinking away tears, he stares at the unoccupied restraints in mute confusion, the adrenaline pumping through his veins only making that confusion spiral faster as frigid mist spreads across the floor. A blink and that mist is gone. The cold is gone.

A glance to the right: no vitals monitor. A glance back at the pod: no Steve.

There’s blood roaring in his ears, the ground is swaying under his feet, he can’t get enough air, and he's falling.

---

He comes to after a few seconds, finding himself sprawled on his right side. Another few seconds pass before he pieces together what happened and why his right shoulder and head ache. The wound in his chest is still bleeding. It’s the easiest thing to focus on with his mind fogged by confusion and pain.

Thick drops of blood pool around the fingers of his hand when he brings it near and then fall to the floor. He watches them, transfixed. And then notes how bright red his blood is. A good sign.

With a bit of effort, he gets his left hand braced against the floor in front of him and, fingers scraping on the concrete, slowly levers himself up while putting as little strain on his core as he can. He uses the cryo pod for support as he gets to his feet, leaving a bloody handprint on the metal. The front of his jacket is shiny with blood and the room spins a bit when he stands straight, but it’s manageable once he leans against the wall and takes a few measured breaths. He looks to his right; the cryo pod is empty.

Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?

[fanofurfics]

V-Day 💗

A Bucky Barnes Fic

Pairing: Bucky and FemReader

Content warnings: Pure self-indulgent fluff, alcohol. Minimal use of Y/N.

Word Count: 1664

A/N: So I did it. I decided to try my hand at my first Fanfic and decided I’d write and share it today for Valentine’s Day. This was written in the span of about an hour and minimal edits, so any and all mistakes are mine. Please be gentle with me 🫣 I also can’t stress enough this is purely self-indulgent fluff with our boy Bucky ‘cause that’s what I want today.

You had just gotten off of work and it had been a rough day. Being bombarded by the decorations, flowers, cards. Coworkers talking about where they and their date were going tonight inevitably asking what you were doing. And you were doing nothing. No date, no romantic night in, hell, no obligatory Valentine’s Day sex. When someone would “awe” or pout, you assured them it was fine - you were fine. But now without work to keep you busy, you really didn’t feel like doing nothing at home all alone. Luckily there was a bar right around the corner.

By the time you finished your first drink, you had started to rethink your decision. More and more couples filtered in, though you were sure it would be the same just about anywhere tonight. You started to really feel alone. You were doing another visual sweep of the room when you noticed a man walk through the doors. His deep set bright blue eyes stood out first. His strong brow and the scruff on his face kept you looking longer. You had always liked a man in leather. You catch yourself nearly drooling and spin back around towards the bar hoping he didn’t notice you clearly noticing him.

You go to take a drink and remember it’s empty. Just as you reach out to wave down the bartender, the man takes a seat at the bar, leaving just one chair between you, and calls out to the bartender as well just as she’s walking over.

”Sorry. Ladies first” the blue eyed lone man said.

“Thanks.” You smile. Maybe it's just because you’re feeling a little lonely tonight but that small act of chivalry makes you blush.

It isn’t long after you order your drink that another man comes to approach you with his scantily clad date in tow. “Hey, do you think you could scoot over so my girlfriend and I can sit at the bar?” You fight the urge to roll your eyes but smile and nod. “Sure.” You look to both empty seats next to you and before you can make the move yourself, the blue eyed gentleman reaches beside him and pulls out the chair next to him without taking his eye off his whisky in hand. You take it as an invitation, sliding your drink towards him and scooting over.

“Thanks.” You settle in, grabbing your drink to swirl the ice. “They should’ve got here earlier if they wanted their choice of seats.” You grumble just loud enough under your breath that he hears it and snickers before he takes another drink. His reaction is enough for you to decide to make a little small talk with him. You’re sure the bartender would like it if you found someone else to talk to tonight.

“Thanks for the seat. I’m Y/N.” You hold out your hand to the man next to you and he takes it, giving you a firm but gentle shake.

”Bucky.”

”Bucky.” You smile to yourself.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just don’t think I’ve met anyone with that name before.” You hope you haven’t already pissed him off by saying something stupid.

”Ah. Well now you have.” He gives a polite smile and goes back to watching the tv behind the bar.

After a few minutes had passed, all you could think about was this guy Bucky. It had been a long time since anyone had captured your attention like this. He was tall, had dark hair, and was extremely handsome. He was quiet, and came off broody, but had been polite to you so far. Sure, you had resigned to do nothing tonight, and maybe it was the drinks but now you didn’t feel all that much like being alone. Unless maybe it was with Bucky. You figured what did you have to lose? If you didn’t hit it off you’d be right back where you are now.

You turn in your chair to face him. ”Have you looked around at everyone here tonight? Most of them have been looking at their phones all night.” He slowly turned his gaze to you first to make sure you were talking to him. You looked at him, eyebrow raised and waiting for some kind of answer. The more seconds that passed, you were sure he would say nothing and just go back to his drink. Fair enough.

He looked around him then turned back to you. “I did notice. Must be pretty crappy dates if they can’t even give each other their attention for a few hours.”

He didn’t completely dismiss you! Great! The two of you continue to make small talk and discuss how sad it is that today people are so in tune with everything around them except those immediately near them. You both start listing off other things one could be doing than wasting time and money out with someone when you’re barely going to connect with them.

You’re really enjoying the conversation and as far as you can tell, he is too. You decide to get a little more personal. “So, did your date stand you up?” He’s staring straight ahead as he takes a swig. Maybe you crossed a sensitive line.

”No” is all he says. You can’t help but think you’ve hit a nerve, but you’re enjoying his company so much you have to try and save this.

”Well that’s good. I wouldn’t want to ask out some guy who was feeling vulnerable.”

Bucky choked a bit on his whisky, then looked at you and cocked his head.

You decided to ask before you lost your nerve.

“How would you feel about being Valentines for the evening? Maybe go play some pool or something?”

Bucky looked around the bar but before he could say anything you added. “There’s a place down the street. It's another bar. They serve whisky.” A small smile creeps up Bucky’s lips. He downs his drink and stands to help you out of your seat. “Shall we then?”

The second bar was crowded as well, but luckily you two were able to secure a pool table and had played game after game. In between rounds, you would put music on the jukebox hoping to hear your song between the long list others had played.

Conversation was easy between you too. He obviously wasn’t the most talkative of people but he was funny, sarcastic. And he was also incredibly sweet. The entire time he had gotten you your drinks and even insisted on paying for them. He’d hold your pool stick for you when you went to the bathroom. There was even a moment when he was taking his shot that he noticed some guy coming on to you and not getting the hint that you weren't interested. Bucky walked right up and put himself between you and the inebriated man. “We got a problem?” Bucky asked. The way this man could stare daggers at people was terrifying. And, a little exciting if you were being honest.

The drunken fool decided to push him in the chest and Bucky didn’t even budge. This infuriated the guy who then took a swing at Bucky, who caught his fist in his left hand and with the slightest squeeze, the man was on his knees. “Okay! Okay! Okay! Ow ow ow!” The drunken fool stumbled out of the bar with his tail between his legs after that.

The hours flew and before you knew it, it was last call and you two were the only ones left in the bar. You realized you had had so much fun you forgot about work in the morning. Begrudgingly you decide to call it a night. “Hey Bucky, I’ve had a really great time, but I should probably get going.” You walked over to grab your jacket off of the chair.

”Hold on.” Bucky put up a hand and then dug out a dollar from his pocket as he went to the jukebox. An old Billie Holiday song comes on and as he walks up to you, he extends his right hand. “May I have this dance?”

You can’t hide the grin that beams from your face and he smiles back. The two of you stand there in the middle of the empty bar and begin to sway back and forth in each other's arms. One hand in yours, the other on the small of your back, you feel yourself begin to melt for this man. He pulls you just the slightest bit closer and rests his face against yours. You had been on dates and had flings recently, but nothing with them had ever felt this intimate. This correct. Your heart breaks just a little as the song ends. You wish you could stay in this moment forever. You’re barely able to tear yourself apart from him, but do. Bucky grabs your coat and helps slip it over your shoulders.

“May I walk you home?” Bucky asks as he holds open the exit door.

”Please.” You don’t see it, but he is grinning now too.

The four block walk goes by too quickly and soon you’re on the steps leading up to your apartment building. You’re about to say something but Bucky beats you to it. “Thanks for the great time, doll. This was the best Valentine’s Day I’ve had in a long, long time.”

“Me too” you admit. “And Bucky,… You were the perfect gentleman.”

He scoffs at your remark. Bucky gently grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips giving you a tender kiss. “Goodnight.” Before he can let go, you turn your hand to grab his. “Wait.” You’re nervous, but would beat yourself up if you didn’t take the chance. You hadn’t hit it off like this with someone so quickly. “Would you…would you like to come in?”

Bucky gives the smallest smile and thinks about it. He shakes his head. “Next time, doll.” He kissed your hand once more. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Closing the door behind you, you couldn’t help but do a giddy dance before making your way to your apartment and climbing into your bed to dream, no doubt, about your darling Bucky.

[3twindragons]

Winteriron/ if they met during the first iron man movie.

[alienoresimagines]

*leaving this on your doorstep like a cat* [ NAP ] while receiver is resting, sender joins them in bed & cuddles up close ? If it inspires you 😊

Well, Ame, this is 7k words long so I'd say it definitely inspired me 😂❤️ Though Gale took "cuddles up close" in a different direction lmao

I hope you'll like it ❤️

“Hey, darlin’. Had a nice day ?” Because even if he knows, Buck still needs to be sure there’s nothing for him to fix, that John’s as happy as can be. After all he’s been through, John deserves all the happiness in the world and Gale will always strive to give it to him. He needn’t have worried though, for Bucky’s eyes, which have just opened to gaze at him adoringly, disappear in half moons from how wide he smiles, each muscle in his face taking part in painting Gale’s favorite view in the world. Upon seeing the happiness on John’s face, the last of his tension immediately leaves him and he all but melts in his embrace, front pressed to his side but chin resting on Bucky’s chest so he can still look at his face.

“‘Twas amazing, Buck. You should’ve seen them, gaping like fish, the lot of ‘em,” John grins blindingly up at him, his hand drawing circles on his back as the other gesticulates excitedly while he talks, and Gale is taken back to the picture in their hallway. The only difference is that now, 5 years later, he doesn’t have to keep the fondness off his face, so he doesn’t try. In fact, he leans up to steal a kiss, cupping Bucky’s cheek in one hand, just because he can, in the safety of their home miles away from anyone. He means for it to be just a quick peck, not wanting to cut Bucky off from his story, but the other seems to have other ideas since, when Gale pulls back to settle again, the hand drawing patterns on his back stops to press gently on his lower back, and John’s other hand flies up to hold his chin between thumb and forefinger, pulling him back in. They meet in a soft kiss, unhurried and gentle as lips slide together effortlessly, tongues barely grazing each other in the softest of caresses, John’s mustache tingling his upper lip in a delicious burn that he can’t get enough of. It reminds Gale of the warm summer breeze that caressed his face the first time he stepped off a fort he landed on his own. Like a “welcome home” without words. It settles in Gale’s bones with the comforting weight of love and care, leaving him content and slightly dazed as he pulls back for air.

He opens his eyes to see John in a similar state, pink lips slightly swollen and gaze unfocused as he stares at Gale. For all that Bucky still makes him blush as easily as if he were pulling a melody out of an instrument he’s played all his life, he always looks drunk on love, on Gale, whenever they kiss like that. It’s empowering in the best of ways, it makes him curl his toes in his socks to know that kissing him has that kind of effect on John, long after they’ve run out of firsts to check. It also still makes him shy and duck his face slightly, unable to resist the soft smile blooming on his face, though he does sweep his thumb back and forth under the skin of John’s eyes before retracting his hand. Resting his chin back on Bucky’s chest, he can feel the way the other’s heart hammers, contradicting John’s controlled breathing. His eyes haven’t left Gale but he clears his throat and opens his mouth, once, twice before any sound comes out.

Read more here :

Mota Masterlist

[majorbuckyegan]

very inconvenient of me to have to go to work when I'm busy trying to write buck and bucky being awful and nasty to each other

"Do they know that I'm, what? Queer? Can't even say the word, huh?" John asked, before scoffing, "You rode my cock like it was your damn job when we were in London, and you can't even say the word."

[cowboylikeyouu]

i have such a way with words 😍

[bluehourbucky]

Oooooo yes. Oki it's a bucky/reader

Reader was an asset at the same time as bucky and her orders were to keep him safe at all costs, so even if it ends with her taking a bullet. So they've had an intense relationship and hydra being hydra uses it against both of them.

Fast forward to the snap, she doesn't get dusted and manages to escape hydra. She meets nat who helps with her trigger words. They don't fix her since shuri is gone but ends up tweaking it so she's really only listening to her handler- nat or bucky as that's a default lol.

Come to the blip and her and bucky reunite and he has some lingering winter solider tendencies when it comes to her and being protective af. So Sam being sam notices it and gives bucky shit. He snaps and essentially says that she reminds him of hydra and can't stand her.

So typical angst troupe. She avoids him until they get put on a mission and she gets triggered. So bucky ends up taking care of her. Can be smutty lol. Like any part of this can be used. Doesn't have to be the whole thing lol

a/n: Hope you don't mind I simplified it cus I think I'd need more than one part to write all of this properly!!!

Hope you enjoy reading this I put all of the angst into it 😅😅

Sorry this is so long 😅😅😅

MY FIRST REQUEST EVER!!!!

To forgive

pairing: bucky x exhydrasoldier!reader

summary: tension between you and Bucky is unbearable and when a misson goes wrong apologies are in order

warnings: f word couple of times / angst a lot of it

masterlist

_______________________________________

Sam actually doesn't know how he managed to get stuck with not one but two super soldiers who have a staring problem but this is his reality right now.

Recently you and Bucky have been staying with Sam since you two could not live with each other alone anymore.

Bucky became your roommate after everyone came back after the snap.

At that point you were 5 years free of Hydra and mostly recovered, you had been found by Natasha and she had helped you a lot and so has Steve. Steve already had experience watching his friend struggle with what had Hydra done and his heart ached seeing his friend in you. The same lost and broken expression made him sad.

They did everything they could, Natasha and Steve even bought you to Wakanda but without Shuri the progress was slow but it was still progres.

Steve before leaving talked to both you and Bucky and suggested you two could help each other out since there was no one else who could understand more what you two had lived through.

It had been good in theory but in practice it was not.

Buckys' recovery was way past yours, and it frustrated you, you were angry especially because you still had this need to protect Bucky at all times.

Being Hydras punching bag was not fun, you didn't blame Bucky it wasn't easy for him either but he was so precious to them that they needed someone to protect the most important asset. It wasn't like you were the only one, you just survived the longest. There had been many before you, who had been removed or just killed in a mission to protect The Winter Soldier.

To Bucky, you were just a reminder of the torture he had survived. Some nights neither of you slept because the same nightmares haunted you, and yet you didn't talk to each other.

You both remember very little about each other from your time in Hydra, the pain is the only thing you both remember so clearly.

It had become impossible to stay together the night when Bucky had a nightmare and you had tried to help, it was awful. That night when Bucky woke up he had thought he was back at Hydra because he saw you. He yelled and screamed and even attacked you, telling you to let him go, and you didn't even defend yourself immediately going back to your training with Hydra.

"Protect the asset no matter what. your life is not important, the winter soldier must be saved. Do not hurt the asset or you will be punished."

That night had changed everything. The weak friendship that you've had with Bucky vanished and all you ever did was fight.

"The dishes aren't washed princess."

"Can the Winter Soldier throw out the trash sometimes?

"Does princess need to be reminded to not use all the hot water."

Oh but the missions are the worst for everyone.

Sam started to bring a spray with him whenever you and Bucky even try to speak to each other because sometimes it is so unbearable that it could ruin the mission.

Sometimes against your wish you jump in to protect Bucky, the Hydra training instincts rooted deep inside you.

"You don't have to protect me!"

"I don't have a choice here asshole! If it were up to me I wouldn't care less if something happened to you!"

But when Bucky had jumped from an airplane without a parachute your heart had dropped. And it was not because your instincts had kicked in, you had watched the man you've been protecting many decades jump from an airplane that was like 30000ft in the air!

You put a parachute on you and brought one with you and jumped after him.

"Dumbass you forgot something!" you had yelled over the wind catching up to Bucky.

He'd ignored the parachute you tried to give him and left you to just watch him descend.

You have no idea how he survived but you were pissed off and were ready to kill him yourself.

"ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE? WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU JUMP WITHOUT A PARACHUTE!"

"WHY DO YOU CARE IT'S MY PROBLEM IF I JUMP OR NOT!"

"NOT IF YOU ASK ME! I LOST MY LIFE TO PROTECTING YOU AND YOU DO THAT! YOU'RE SO SELFISH!"

You had pushed him hard enough so he stumbled a bit but that's only because he didn't expect it. Bucky had also received a slap to the face which Sam might have enjoyed way too much. It had caused an actual fight between two of you and it took Sam 30 minutes to separate you. By the time you had to fight people you had come to fight in the first place you and Bucky already had battle wounds.

Tonight you're in Madripoor and the plan was that Bucky pretends to be The Winter Soldier, it made you nervous.

Sharon had give you a dress and some flat boots in case you needed to run, Bucky and Sam had received some very nice suits.

When you saw Bucky in a suit your heart flipped at the sight of him. You've never seen him in a suit before and you weren't sure how to feel about it. He looked handsome, it's not the first time you had that thought but usually there was annoyance clouding any other thoughts about Bucky.

When Bucky looked at you as you exited the room you were changing in his brain and heart malfunctioned. He'd never seen you in a dress before, you preferred clothes that covered your body completely - the scars on your body made you feel very insecure - Bucky was the same the more his body is cover the less attention he has on himself.

But God, have you taken his breath away. It isn't like he thinks you're ugly, you're gorgeous, and if you had known each other back when he was himself and before you had been brainwashed to protect him he would've loved to have taken you to a dance. Unfortunately your situation was too complicated and it had made it impossible for you two to have any kind of relationship not only romantic.

Bucky and you have a very awkward moment where you made eye contact and then quickly looked away. The tension in the room grew to a 100 real fast.

"So ugh about the plan." Sam coughs to fix the awkward vibe that has enveloped the room.

While Sam is explaining the plan you and Bucky glance at each other when the other isn't looking and Sam pretends not to notice.

The club is crowded and the atmosphere changes when people start to notice The Winter Soldier.

You're on edge the entire time.

Suddenly a fight begins but all you hear are the trigger words which do not affect Bucky but you're entirely a different story.

As Bucky was about to get punched you had jumped in front of him stopping the hit with your hands. You break the the guys hand and turn around to hit another big guy.

"Get out of here I will take care of this."

"No you won't."

And when you don't Bucky pulls you by your hand and you have no choice but to run with him.

When you finally arrive at a safe destination away from everyone who's trying to kill you Bucky turns to you.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS? WHAT HAPPENED IN THERE YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO WAIT! ARE YOU SO STUPID YOU CAN'T FOLLOW SIMPLE INTRUCTIONS?"

You only stare back at him not even blinking.

"Bucky stop she's not okay can't you see?" Sam puts a hand on Buckys shoulder backing him away from you.

"She fucked up she wasn't supposed to engage."

"Bucky look at her."

That's when Bucky notices that you're not looking at him you're looking at the floor, your hands behind you as if waiting for punishment.

And suddenly it clicks, your trigger words. Some of them were the same as his.

"I'm so sorry. I- I didn't notice I'm so sorry."

You stay in your place not moving an inch.

Bucky tries to touch you and at first you flinch, he doesn't know what to do - he hugs you, surpsing himself.

He stands there his arms tightly around you.

When you finally come back you start sobbing and Buckys heart breaks. He was supposed to know better.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I should've known I should've said it was a bad idea I'm sorry."

You're shaking in his arms and his heart breaks a little more with every whine.

It takes you 45 minutes to stop crying and that's only because you've exhausted yourself with crying.

Bucky carries you to a dodgy motel that him and Sam found. Your limp body in his arms makes him feel incredibly guilty. He feels awful, he'd been awful to you for months and you're right he's been selfish. Bucky can only hope you can forgive him.

You wake up with a headache the light coming through the window indicates that it's for sure not early morning. The sun is gentle and you can tell that sun is about to be gone. To the right of you there's a night stand and to the left is Bucky sleeping on a chair, sitting up.

You notice that you're in Buckys shirt and your pyjama pants.

"Hey."

You turn at Buckys voice.

"Hi."

"I'm sorry about last night I was out of line. I've been out of line for a while. And I'm really sorry I've put you in danger-"

"Bucky..."

"No I need to say this, please."

you nodd.

"There's so much I regret but I regret putting you in danger and giving you shit the most. I've done nothing to make your life easier I've only made it worse. And you were right I was selfish. I was in my head too much and you're the only person who completely understands what I've been through. Last night shouldn't have happened but I was stupid. I hope you can forgive me and I'll do everything in power for the rest of my life to make it up to you."

"Bucky... I-... What happened to us is not fair and we both did stuff we regret, I also wasn't fair to you. I'm not okay. I haven't been a while and last night wasn't your fault. I'm sorry too. I'm sorry for calling you The Winter Soldier and for hurting you purposely. And you have nothing to make up for nothing that happend is your fault."

Bucky and you stand in silence for a while each trying to process words and the situation you're in right now.

"Fucking Hydra."

Bucky breaks the ice with that statement and you both laugh.

"Bucky, could I ask you for a favour?"

"Anything."

"I haven't been well for a while and last night only showed how much I need help. I'd like to go to Wakanda so they get me in cryo to fix my brain. Please be there for me when they put me under and when they wake me up."

"I promise."

True to his word Bucky is there when they're preparing you for cryo.

"It's going to be okay. These people are the best they know what they're doing. Besides they had their experiment animal way before you!"

"Oh shut up..... Thank you Bucky. I'll see you when I wake up?"

He smiles and gives you a tender hug full of emotions but mostly love.

"I promise."

The last thing you see are Buckys blue eyes looking at you softly he doesn't let himself cry.

The next time you see Bucky is when your new life begins.

_____________________________________

[THE END]

This is gigantic udhdhdudud I'm not sure If I should've written so much but it was fun?

Likes reblogs and Comments are appreciated <3

[johnslittlespoon]

what if. i wrote gale giving john a thighjob (not thighfucking, as hot as that is– i'm talking 'repetitive hip movements are too obvious in a room full of men so gale has john press up against his back and squeezes his thighs around his cock like the pulse of a heartbeat while john buries his face in the crook of his neck to muffle his noises and reaches around to jerk gale off simultaneously') while stalag bunk–sharing in yad(iym) lolllll. lol?

[musette22]

For the nonnie who asked: here are some of my all time favourite lengthy Stucky fics (30-200k, mostly multi chapter):

Not Easily Conquered by dropdeaddream, WhatAreFears

This, You Protect by owlet

Home Is Wherever I'm With You by cydonic

Lucky Seven by BetteNoire

Political Animals by @spacerenegades, Deisderium

Wishes and Words by wearing_tearing

A Company Man by @whtaft

Push It Real Good by spoffyumi

The Size of Perfection by @phoenike

Like Real People Do by 2bestfriends

Easy Work For Easy Pay by AustinB

Prince Charming by Brenda

What's in a Name? by levi_cas_tho, maichan

Critical Feline Mass by Kryptaria, zooeyscigar  

Ipseity by SkyisGray

Circling Back by chaya

Ain't No Grave (Can Keep My Body Down) by spitandvinegar 

The Necrofloranomicon by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)

with all my skin and bone by unicornpoe

He's All That by @spacerenegades

Monoclonius by Zenaidamacrouras1

oh meet me, my darling, where the sun sets over the barley by charlesdk @trancowboy

Coming Home by charlesdk @trancowboy

The Settler by charlesdk @trancowboy

Waking Up Slow by odetteandodile

Family Placement by notlucy

I Held You in Gloved Hands (And I’m Not Letting Go) by @voylitscope

then a small thing happened by BeaArthurPendragon

North Fork by BeaArthurPendragon

Itsy Bitsy Yoga by wearing_tearing

All Those Little Pieces by Ellessey

Bucky Barnes Gets His Groove Back & Other International Incidents @silentwalrus1

Scents and Sensibility: The Working Assassin's Guide to Supersoldier Seduction by galwednesday, silentwalrus, skellerbvvt

Coming Home For Christmas by Chiyume

Chase the Lightning From the Sky by SilverSlashes

These next ones I haven't had a chance to read yet, but I love these authors' other fics so I'm sure these are brilliant too!

lane lines by @sparkagrace

Till It Bleeds Daylight by @cable-knit-sweater

Backhoe by @zenaidamacrouras1

hey now, you're an all star (get your game on, go play) (WIP) by @buckyismybicycle

I was alone, I took a ride (I didn't know what I would find there) by @otp-holic

Till there were no more wolves in the West by @dharmasharks

better to speak or die (WIP) by @between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place

Atoms by @andrea1717

I'm sure I'm forgetting some brilliant ones, so feel free to add to this! Also, please check out these authors' other works too, they're all brilliant <3

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Olympics AU - Cross Country

Catch up via this masterpost if you're new here

AU summary: Paris 2024 Olympics. Gale is on the U.S. equestrian eventing team, Bucky is a U.S. gymnast, they meet on the plane to Paris, and a love story ensues.

Author's Note: Gale's cross country run, and Bucky meets Whiskey. I won't lie, writing about Gale and his horse here is pure self-indulgence.

---

Gale can feel the energy and anticipation coursing through Whiskey’s body, the excited tension in her broad shoulders, the set of her head as she carefully watches everything around her. Like a physical thrumming that extends from her and goes right through Gale.

Other horses and riders wander around the warm-up area at all gaits, sailing over practice jumps as they await their start times. Gale is the fourteenth rider to start on the Paris Olympics cross country course, and he’s trying not to let himself be nervous about it. Horses and riders are set off at three minute intervals to complete a high intensity course that ideally takes just under nine and a half minutes to complete. Benny had been the first rider and would have finished the course a while ago now if nothing went wrong. Gale hasn’t heard word of any major incidents on the course thus far.

Riding horses teaches you how to keep yourself calm even when calm is the last thing you feel. The moment you let your control over yourself slip, your horse can feel it. They can feel every tense muscle in your body, every hesitation you make, every doubt you have. Horses teach you to sit up straight, breathe easy no matter how shaky you feel, keep your heels down and your eyes forward and never let anyone know if you’re afraid. So Gale takes a deep breath and rides Whiskey through her nerves. He lifts a hand to his safety vest to make sure it’s secure, then checks the strap of his helmet for about the fifth time. 

He checks that his eventing watch is set to 9 minutes and 18 seconds, the optimum time for the course. They’ll be starting any minute now, and they’re walking around in circles by the start box, waiting for the signal to go. Whiskey keeps picking up a nervous trot, her tail in the air and her ears perked forward. Gale lets her go a few steps before bringing her back down. “We got this, girl,” he tells her quietly. He allows himself a quick look at the massive crowd that has gathered around the start of the course. Gale and Whiskey have run countless cross country courses together, many of them with sizable crowds in recent years. But this is on another level. He wonders if John is here anywhere, like he promised to be.

Last night, Gale spent quite a while assuring John that cross country isn’t a death sentence. On average, far less than a quarter of the riders at a top level event will fall on the course. A miniscule number of those falls will be anything serious. John protested that, according to Google, cross country falls can be fatal. Gale countered him by saying a gymnastics fall can also be fatal and told him to stop Googling things.

Subsequently trying to explain to John that he’s actually fallen off several times, including on cross country, and that, in an ideal situation, he knows how to fall “safely,” did not go over well. “You broke your fucking back!” John exclaimed incredulously.

“I did not break my back. I had a stress fracture in my spine,” Gale corrected him.

“Yes! You fractured your spine!”

“And you broke your leg! But here you are.”

They’d glared at each other for several seconds before John admitted, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” He’d never in his life expect Gale to just not do what he loves, no matter how much it may hurt, but that doesn’t make Bucky less concerned about this whole cross country thing.

Gale smiled softly at him, not used to having someone other than Benny or Marge care so much about his well-being. “Sounds like we’re in agreement, then,” he said. “I simply won’t fall off.”

It’s easy to be a little cocky when you ride horses. A good rider always knows the risks, knows their limits, knows their horse. But in the end, if you aren’t sure of yourself, you have to pretend. You have to fake it so well that you start to believe it. Gale and Bucky are the same, that way. They both know that their control over their sport stops somewhere, and all they can do is stretch their own skill as far as it’ll go and convince everyone else there’s nothing to worry about.

As Gale guides Whiskey around in another small circle and into the start box, he starts his watch. The whistle blows, and they’re off like a shot, galloping towards the first of 25 obstacles, a keyhole with brush across the top. The crowd pressed against the fences on either side of the course cheers and claps as they clear the first jump and barrel towards the next.

Whiskey soars over them all with ease, taking the corner jumps in a perfect line that will no doubt save them a few seconds on their time. She gallops uphill and downhill with just as much coordination as if she were on the flat. Even the coffin jump she hops over like it’s nothing. Gale remembers spending months with her when she was just four years old, trying to convince her that the ditch in the ground was just another obstacle to clear. Young Whiskey was convinced it was going to swallow her whole if she crossed over it, even throwing Gale into it once when she refused and ran out. But not now. Now, she’s invincible.

This, Gale thinks, is one of many things that made him fall in love with this sport. A horse has a way of making you feel like you’re flying. Like you’re untouchable. They teach you love and responsibility, softness and kindness, grit and determination. But they also take you for who you are and fill in all of the gaps. They take one look at every insecurity and worry you have, and they say, ‘I can fix that. Just hang on.’ Gale loves the tangible connection he feels with his horse. He knows her like the back of his hand, and she can read everything he thinks and feels by the way his muscles twitch, by the tone of his voice when he whispers in her ear. 

So when they run through this cross country course, Gale wants to win. But flying over jump after jump, galloping down the stretches between them, it brings him a certain kind of peace, too. Like he’s a kid again, riding for nothing more than the joy it brought him, the escape it allowed him. He finds himself grinning into the wind hitting his face. 

Gale and Benny had walked the course earlier with the rest of the riders, getting a good look at every obstacle and pacing out the lines they planned to take. The Paris course is nothing like anything he’s ever ridden before, if nothing else because of its splendor. It was designed with every little detail in mind, complete with pontoon bridges over the Grand Canal, giving a quintessential photo op for the Games. 

Aside from his awe over the course, Gale had been a little worried about the steep bank heading downhill, immediately followed by a jump straight into a water obstacle. Whiskey, still young, sometimes has a hard time balancing on the other side of downhill banks. She stumbles just the littlest bit now, and Gale has to fight to keep his weight back in the saddle until he can straighten her out. But she finds her footing and carries them over the next jump, straight into the water, which splashes all the way up to Gale’s face. 

They cross the bridges over the canal and loop around the park, through the trees and perfectly maintained hedges. As they head into the arena in front of Versailles, they’re over halfway through the course. Gale checks his watch. They have just under four minutes. There’s another large crowd gathered in the stands to watch the few jumps that are set up in the arena, and on their way out, Whiskey catches sight of someone waving a small U.S. flag over the rail of the stands. She throws her head up and spooks to the side, nearly unseating Gale, but he pushes her on.

Anyone watching on TV can hear the commentators laugh lightly and explain that Whiskey is still young for an Olympic eventer. Nine years old is the minimum age for Olympic horses, to ensure they have enough time to mature before facing intense competition. “She’s really doing extremely well,” they say.  “This is a young team, both horse and rider. And it looks to me like they may be the face of the sport for years to come.”

Gale and Whiskey have already put their small mishap behind them, though. There’s no room for dwelling on it. There’s only forward. With only a small handful of obstacles left, he can feel her tiring, but he knows she won’t give up if he won’t.

“Keep going, girl,” he whispers. Her ear flicks back at the sound of his voice before pricking forward again, and she keeps going. She’d run to the ends of the Earth for him.

—

Sometimes people tell Bucky that he’s insane. Usually it’s in reference to the gymnastics skills he incorporates into his routines, so he’s pretty sure they mean it in a good way. They tell him that what he does is crazy, especially considering the fact that the sport almost ruined his life.

But standing at the end of the cross country course, he thinks equestrians have given “insane” a whole new meaning. He actually said “what the fuck” out loud when the first rider – Benny – came galloping full speed down the final stretch, soaring over the jump at the end and racing to the finish. Because, seriously, at least Bucky has control over his own body. How can anyone tell him that he’s more insane than these people who sit on a horse’s back and charge through the woods at 20 miles per hour, clearing jumps that are several feet tall, often several feet wide, and sometimes include unnecessary twists like going downhill or through water? And what? They just trust the horse to not kill them in the process? 

That, Bucky thinks, is crazy.

Gale had tried to explain to him last night that it’s not as intimidating or dangerous as it looks. That, just like gymnasts, riders train for years, sometimes their entire lives, to be good at what they do. That the horses themselves are trained for years to be good at what they do. He tried to explain to him what the partnership between a horse and rider is like, the fact that he trusts Whiskey more than he trusts most other human beings. He’d given up eventually, though, with an amused shake of his head, telling Bucky that he’d come to understand eventually.

Bucky tried not to get too hung up on that word: eventually. That word implies a future. It implies that Gale sees a future for them beyond these games. This isn’t just a casual thing for him. It’s not just a summer fling.

Bucky has never been too great at commitment. Everything about his love life has only ever been casual. Too little love and too much life. But after only knowing Gale for a handful of days, he’s starting to think casual isn’t what he wants anymore. He isn’t sure if that scares him.

Eventually. He’ll understand eventually. Bucky decides that that’s something he wants: to understand. He wants to come to love Gale’s sport as much as he wants Gale to love his. He wants to know, as much as he can, what Gale means when he talks about the bond between horse and rider, what he feels when he looks Whiskey in the eye and can be so sure that she’ll do right by him. Gale told him that, when Bucky finally gets to meet the mare, all it will take is one look. One touch. And he’ll start to understand why Gale thinks the world of her.

Bucky knows essentially nothing about horses, but he hopes Gale is right.

So, he’s here. Exactly as he promised he would be. He’s standing with Marge at the end of the Paris Olympics cross country course, watching insane people charge over the final jump. Marge told him that it’s a keyhole. Enclosed on the bottom, top, and on either side. It’s designed to look like a horseshoe, with the Olympic rings stretched across the top. Bucky is, at least, thankful that they chose to stand here, rather than by one of the more complex obstacles. They’ve watched eleven riders come through so far, which means two didn’t finish the course. Marge has had the livestream up on her phone, but Bucky has barely watched it himself. He doesn’t need to see if and when someone falls. Not when he’s standing here, waiting for Gale to make it to the end.

Marge has quickly become a good friend to Bucky, too. He thinks she just has that kind of quality, a good energy – she’s a person you want to be around. So he’s really glad she invited him to watch with her, because he would be totally lost, confused, and probably freaking out a little bit without her. And, yeah, as Gale warned him, it would be a lot more boring.

She taps him excitedly on the shoulder as she cranes her neck to look down the final stretch. “He’s coming, he’s coming.”

Relief floods through Bucky as he turns to look in the same direction, and sure enough, there’s Whiskey, coming out of the trees around the turn with Gale on her back. She has eventing grease down her legs to protect them from the jumps, white contrasting against her sweat-darkened chestnut hair (chestnut, Gale had insisted. Not red.) Her head is much more forward than it was at the start, leaning more heavily on the bit, her nostrils flared as she sucks in as much oxygen as she can get. Her ears remain forward, alert and excited.

Bucky can hear her pounding hoofbeats against the ground as they run for the final jump, and he watches in complete awe as Whiskey seamlessly launches herself into the air from her hind end, clears the jump, and keeps sprinting for the finish. Gale looks up as he reigns her in, searching for his time on the board. 

“He’s under the optimum time,” Marge says to Bucky as they watch. She sounds impressed, and relieved. “And only a few points in penalties. They’re in really good shape.”

“Is that… surprising?” Bucky asks dumbly.

Marge looks at him and smiles, shrugging. “It depends who you ask.” When Bucky just stares at her, she laughs. “Gale and Whiskey are young. Gale is the youngest rider on the entire U.S. equestrian team. And Whiskey is the youngest horse. She’s the minimum age a horse can be at the Olympics. So, yes, to a lot of people this is very surprising.”

“And to you?”

Marge’s smile grows. “Not surprising at all.” 

Gale turns Whiskey in a small circle then, slowing her down, and his eye catches Bucky’s. Bucky is a little in love with the way Gale’s face lights up when he sees him. The way Gale urges Whiskey a few steps to the side to get closer. “You’re here!”

“I told you I would be!” Bucky calls back. And just for a moment, there’s no crowd gathered at the fences. There’s no score board or clock or cross country course around them. It’s just them. Gale is right by the fence now, reaching his hand down, seeking Bucky out, and Bucky reaches up to squeeze it in his own. He’s vaguely aware of an event photographer taking pictures of this moment. 

“Thank you,” Gale says sincerely, and Bucky doesn’t know what to do about the way it makes his heart flutter. Then Gale looks at Marge. “I think we did it,” he grins. 

“I think you did babe,” Marge laughs. “Now get outta here!”

Gale lets go of Bucky’s hand, and Bucky feels his fingers reaching out, chasing the loss, before he drops his hand back to his side. Gale nods to them both and urges Whiskey to trot off down the remaining extra bit of track, heading back for the stables. 

Marge grabs Bucky by the arm and starts pulling him through the crowd behind them. “Let’s go.”

–

Bucky is certain he isn’t supposed to be here, but Marge didn’t seem to get that memo. Or she doesn’t care, which is fine. When they approach the stables, there’s a few horses and at least double the amount of people milling about outside. Horses being untacked, hosed down, and hand walked to cool off, and collections of riders and grooms surrounding them. Marge leads Bucky straight over to Gale, who Bucky can now see is just as sweat-soaked as Whiskey. He’s removed his vest and helmet, leaving him in a white, sweat-marked team USA polo tucked into white riding pants that Bucky thinks hit him in all the right places. His hair is soaked and sticking up in crazy directions from his helmet.

The horse has been untacked, and Gale is holding her lead as a groom sprays her with cool water. Whiskey is shoving her nose against Gale’s arm, making him laugh as he rubs her forehead, right over a bright white misshapen star. Bucky manages to sneak a picture of it on his phone before Gale looks up and notices them approaching.

“Hey!” he exclaims, shoving Whiskey’s big head away from him and handing her lead to the groom, who scratches her lovingly behind the ears as he leads her away. Gale looks at Bucky even as Marge hugs him. “So? What’d you think?”

“You’re crazy. That was crazy,” Bucky insists. 

Gale laughs and rolls his eyes as Marge steps back. “Whatever you say.”

Bucky steps forward then, wrapping his arms around Gale. Gale freezes for a split second, then he hugs Bucky back, letting his tired body relax into him. “It was also amazing,” Bucky says.

“I probably smell like shit,” Gale mumbles self-consciously. He hears Marge stifle a laugh, and he knows it’s because he’s never once cared about how he looks or smells at the stables.

“I don’t care.” Bucky hugs him tighter.

When he pulls away, Benny has joined them, his horse already back in his stall. Marge hugs him, too. “You both looked incredible out there,” she says.

Bucky makes to step back, to let the three of them talk, but Gale reaches out and grabs his hand, keeping him right at his side. It feels weirdly normal, standing in a circle of friends, holding Gale’s hand, and Gale doing it like it’s nothing. It’s the first time they’ve really shared such intimate physical touch so openly.

Bucky wants more of it. 

“I think we’re in good shape,” Benny is saying. “I think we have a real chance of a medal this year.” If the US equestrian team gets a team medal in eventing, it’ll be the first since 2004. And they are bound and determined to make it happen. 

Benny looks over at Bucky. “Will you be there to watch our victory tomorrow?”

Bucky blushes, and he doesn’t even know why. “Oh, uh. I don’t know-“

“John’s got his own team finals tomorrow,” Gale says proudly, squeezing his hand. 

“Oh right, John Egan,” Benny mocks. “US gymnastics poster boy.”

Bucky is pretty sure he’s teasing him in a good way, but he can’t quite tell. Gale rolls his eyes and shoves Benny gently. “Oh fuck off.”

Then he pulls Bucky away from them. “Come on, I want you to meet someone.” He calls out to the young groom who is in the process of scraping the excess water off of Whiskey’s coat. Bucky learns that his name is Ken Lemmons, aka the only person Gale fully trusts with his horses other than himself. Kenny greets Bucky kindly and hands the lead over to Gale. “She’s barely even tired,” he chuckles, regarding Whiskey as she nuzzles at his shoulder. “Let me know if you want me to hand walk her.”

“Will do, Kenny.” Gale thanks him and the groom walks off, leaving them be. 

Gale turns his attention back to Bucky. “Bucky, meet Whiskey.”

Whiskey lowers her head the slightest bit, like she knows she’s being introduced. One big brown eye looks at Bucky curiously, her ears forward, her breath coming in hot puffs as she stomps her hoof at a fly. Bucky looks at Gale hesitantly, and Gale smiles encouragingly back at him. Then he takes Bucky’s hand in his own again and raises it up, presses it to Whiskey’s nose, Gale’s warm hand on top of his. Whiskey’s skin is soft beneath Bucky’s touch.

“You can pet her,” Gale says, taking his own hand away. 

Bucky lets his fingers rub up and down Whiskey’s nose, then the side of her cheek. When Gale tells him that she loves being scratched around her ears, he raises his hand to the top of her head and scratches gently like he saw Gale and Kenny do before. Whiskey leans into the touch, asking for more, and he laughs as he increases the pressure. 

Then she shakes her head, making Bucky pull his hand away, red horse hair stuck to his fingers. “Did I do something wrong?”

Gale laughs. “No, no she just does that. It means she likes it.” As if to confirm, Whiskey stretches forward to nuzzle Bucky’s hand again. “She likes you,” Gale adds. 

Bucky finds himself smiling, running his hand down her neck, still wet from the hose. He marvels at the way the muscles ripple beneath her skin, the way her huge hooves stomp on the ground, the sheer magnitude of her presence in front of him, all combined with the softness of her eyes. He feels like he’s maybe starting to understand what Gale meant. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is,” Gale agrees. Bucky looks back over at him, and the way Gale, sweaty and tired as he is, is framed so perfectly by the rays of sun behind him, watching, with so much love, as Bucky meets his horse for the first time – it does something to Bucky that he’s never quite felt before.  

“You’re beautiful,” he finds himself saying. 

Gale blushes, his hand still scratching Whiskey’s nose, but the way he smiles at Bucky then, so shy and so perfect and so unequivocally happy, makes Bucky feel somehow complete. 

---

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Next Part

(Side note: much of Whiskey's personality is based off of my own mare and it's making me emotional because I love her so much thank you)

[soliloquent-stark]

🎶 you are the sweetest melody i never sung by soliloquent

5,6k words // pairing: bucky barnes & tony stark & steve rogers

—⎊—

“A soft tune cuts through his thoughts and seeps right in between the cracks of his broken mind. It sounds like a slow, gentle piano song, and it soothes his senses, numbs his tension, and lulls him to the smooth edge of sleep.”

or: Bucky struggles with insomnia, Tony plays the piano, and Steve just wants the two most important men in his life to get along.

written for @sunnysideprincess as part of the @stuckonyvalentinecards 2024 event