#holiday bucky barnes

[buckyalpine]

OKAY!!! Hear me out...

Lemonade AU but holiday drabbles!!

Like the thought of y/n spending Christmas at the Barnes household makes me 😭

Or like y/n forcing Bucky to dress up for Halloween or vice versa 💘💘💘💘 and Winnie can’t help but laugh at their ridiculous costumes

OMG this au is underrated, yessss and we're just in time for Christmas. We love our sweet College Bucky with his pretty older reader (for reference, Bucky is in his early to mid 20's and reader is later 20's to mid 30's or just pick your own ages)

Lemonade Lemonade AU drabble Sour

Bucky spent the whole day with his mama putting up the tree and getting the lights set up outside. His nose and cheeks are red from the cold and he runs straight to you to warm up. You coo at how cute he looks, letting him nuzzle his face into your neck for warmth, sighing contently. He smirks, slipping his icy cold hands up your sweater making you squeal but he doesn't relent, hugging you tighter, stealing all your body heat. Imagine how excited Bucky gets when you come over later in the evening, dressed in the comfiest of clothes; his college sweats and hoodie which you love so much. You giggle at the way he trails behind you as you make your way to the kitchen, letting down the bottle of wine you bought for you and Winnie to share later.

Christmas is in a few days and you've already spoiled him by filling his stocking to the top and he's acts like a little kid, poking and prodding at the little gifts you've wrapped up, blushing whenever you catch him.

"Bucky, put that down, you'll get to see what I got you soon" You shake your head while he pouts, still clutching onto a red box.

"Just one, c'mon" He whines, only setting it down when you tempt him with some hot chocolate. He doesn't want you to lift a finger though so he scoops you up in his arms, plopping you down on the kitchen island before getting started on making some. He knows you love his ma's recipe and he's perfected it, seeing her make it every year, chopping a few slabs of dark and milk chocolate.

"Wan exta marmallows?" His voice is muffled after stuffing about 3 in his mouth and you snort in response, while he blinks at you with his cheeks full.

"Yes please, baby" You kiss his sugary sweet lips while he adds them to your mug, before pouring some for himself as well.

It would not be Christmas without cookies and it's a Barnes holiday tradition. Winnie and Becca join to measure ingredients and roll out dough while George gets started on a roast for dinner. It's absolutely chaotic and you wouldn't want to be anywhere else, surrounded by love in the kitchen, your cheeks heating up every time Bucky tries to sneak in a kiss when no one is looking.

-

As usual, this wasn't meant to be part of the story BUT imagine on Christmas day, everyone is unwrapping presents and its a house full of wrapping, sparkles, bows, hot chocolate and cookies. Winnie got everyone matching Pj's like she does every year. Steve and his family had joined as well, adding to the madness while Bucky cozies up with you on the couch, the fire place keeping you toasty along with how warm your boyfriend is.

Winnie gives George a knowing smile, the both of them proud of the son they raised, their little boy head over heels in love with you and ready to treat you right. They also know the gift you'd just opened from him isn't what he actually got you.

He brings you your actual gift later that evening when it's just the two of you in his room. A tiny box, wrapped perfectly with a gold bow on top. Everyone knew exactly what Bucky is up to because he'd been planning this for months. Working extra shifts, saving money on the side, anything and everything he could do just for this.

For you.

"Open it" he whispers, nervous while you pull at the bow, the both of you sitting in his bed.

"Jamie-baby, what did you do" You gasp, lifting the box, tears already welling along your lash line. The little diamonds on the tennis bracelet sparkle under the low light with a small note on the inside, reading from your Jamie.

"I-I couldn't get you anything for stocking because I wanted to get you this" He says with a small smile, feeling bad he couldn't spoil you more the way you deserved. "Do you like it?"

You wordlessly nod, biting down on your lip to keep from crying while he takes the box from you because you want him to put it on you. He takes the dainty bracelet, carefully clasping it around your hand, admiring how pretty it looks on you.

"You didn't have to baby" You whisper, sniffling while he pulls you onto his lap, "Bubba, it's too much-

He shuts you up with a kiss, shaking his head.

"It's not too much for you. I wanna spoil you" His puppy eyes are so sincere; you're it for him and he's it for you.

Let's not act like the night doesn't end with you wearing just the tennis bracelet with your hands covering each others mouths to keep your voices down while he-

[levans44]

underneath the tree

pairing: steve rogers x agent!reader

summary: Everything is where it should be: a giant pot of mulled wine simmering quietly on the stove, colorful bags of icing and sugary sprinkles strewn all over the cookie decorating station. Even an old-timey record player crackles softly in the corner, one you’d thrifted on a whim in hopes of teasing a certain someone about it.

Except that certain someone wasn’t… here. 

warnings: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, first kiss, light angst

word count: 2.7k

a/n: hey friends, this one’s a holiday special w/ pure fluff (and a pinch of angst b/c who am i without it?) feedback is always welcome! thanks for reading and happy holidays 🎄✨

“Santa’s… Favorite… Ho.” 

The words glitter in bold, obnoxious cursive, smack dab across the chest of your favorite red-haired assassin. 

“Good one, Romanoff.”  You smirk, biting back a laugh as she levels you with a deadpan stare, betrayed by the faint twitch at the corner of her crimson lips.  

Your very first time hosting a Christmas Party. 

Or, as Nat lovingly dubbed it—a ’Derelict’s Christmas.’ 

It’s a tradition you’re determined to start this year, for anyone on the team without family during the holidays—a way to make sure no one spends this time of year alone.

And, naturally, another opportunity to humiliate your coworkers. 

The rules were simple: everyone had to show up in the ugliest, most eye-searing sweater they could find. No exceptions.

And I mean ugly, Nat. A basic red sweater is not ugly. 

Even Bucky’s adhered to your law, donning a laid-back penguin wearing sunglasses, sprawled beneath the words ‘Chill Vibes Only.’ A festive tinsel garland spirals around his left arm, which will undoubtedly be the subject of jokes he won’t live down until well after New Years.

Wait, does this make you the Winter Wonderland Soldier?

As you glance around your living room, soft, warm light dances off the mismatched decorations adorning the walls—the kind you’d spent all week setting up—and you can’t help but feel a distinct melancholic warmth reserved for this time of the year.

Everything is where it should be: a giant pot of mulled wine simmering quietly on the stove, colorful bags of icing and sugary sprinkles strewn all over the cookie decorating station. Even an old-timey record player crackles softly in the corner, one you’d thrifted on a whim in hopes of teasing a certain someone about it.

Except that certain someone wasn’t… here. 

Your eyes flick to the door for what must be the tenth time in as many minutes.

No luck. 

You try to tell yourself it’s just traffic, that he’ll walk through any second. But the party flows on, cruelly indifferent—drinks flowing, laughter bubbling—Sam’s already made his second sappy toast of the night and is well on his way to a third. With each passing minute, the excitement in your chest grows heavy, twisting into disappointment.

Sure, he’s probably got a million other things to do. Even on Christmas. 

But when you’d brought up your little soiree, he’d agreed with a gentle nod of his head, and smiled in that boyish way that made your heart flutter.

Sounds fun, I’ll be there.  

It’s not like him to just leave you hanging. But when there’s no work emergency and everyone else is here, it’s hard not to take it personally. 

Your mind feels exhausted, steaming like a train running low on fuel, huffing its way to its final station, desperate to come up with more excuses. You’ve run out of them about two drinks ago.

You’re about to prepare your third, slumped against the kitchen island with a cutting board under you, when a quiet voice cuts through your haze.

“Not feelin’ the holiday spirit?”

You start at the interruption, the lime in your hand slipping from your fingers and tumbling away, rolling off the cutting board with a soft thump.

“Jesus, Barnes, give a girl a warning.”

You abandon your knife with a quiet sigh, eyes following the trail of red and green tinsel up Bucky’s arm as he steps in closer.

Lips twitching in something like amusement, he leans casually against the counter, gaze flicking pointedly toward your apartment entrance before drifting back to you.

“Noticed you’ve been staring at that door all night.”

The words hit you harder than you expect. You force a roll of your eyes, dismissing his observation with a shrug. But your fingers hesitate over the cutting board, the lime mocking you from its spot against the cool backsplash. 

“I’m not—” You cut yourself off, the words tasting too defensive.  

A heavier sigh slips from you when you reach for your glass instead.

“It’s just not like him, you know?” You mutter, swirling the last sip in your glass before downing it. Your lips come up sticky-sweet from the rim when you mumble, more to yourself than him.

“I mean, sure, he’s busy, but…” You trail off, meeting Bucky’s gaze to find that the teasing glint was gone, replaced with something softer, unreadable. The shift unsettles you, and your stomach twists.

“What?” The word comes out sharper than you intended.

He tilts his head, as if weighing his words, and the silence grows heavy—a non-answer wrapped in a knowing look. Brows furrowed, you wait, trying to decipher his hesitation. 

It’s another long beat before he sighs, lifting himself off the counter, and taps his fingers absently against the edge. 

His eyes dart to the side, glancing briefly over the room. “He… didn’t want me to tell anyone.” 

Your fingers tighten instinctively around the stem of your glass, teeth scraping over the remnants of sugar sticking to your bottom lip. 

“About what?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, Steve’s…” His gaze flicks to yours, softening, “He’s probably over at New York-Presbyterian.”

Your stomach drops, fingers slipping around the glass as you reach for the countertop. The train jolts back to life, racing faster than ever, the wheels screeching as each thought barrels forward, colliding with the next in a blur of frantic speed.

The hospital?Why, was he hurt?What happened?How had you not heard?

“No, no, he’s not—” Bucky cuts in quickly, raising a hand to stave off your growing panic. The wince on his face softens into a small, apologetic laugh,

“He’s fine. Just…volunteering for the kids. Does it every year.”  

You blink, the rush of thoughts screeching to a sudden halt.

“He’s…”

It takes all of two seconds for the realization to register, your body moving before your mind can catch up. The glass is abandoned on the counter as you scramble for the nearest coat, not caring whose it is, and rush for the door.

The pediatric ward offers a welcome reprieve from the usual maze of sterile corridors—paper snowflakes and crayon drawings adorning the walls, giant inflatable snowmen standing guard at the entrances to patient rooms. A small Christmas tree, twinkling with homemade ornaments and tinsel, stands next to the nurse’s station. 

Your desperate steps falter when you spot him in the corner of the ward, sat cross-legged over a rug in a makeshift play area, surrounded by a small circle of children. The Captain America outfit stands out amongst the sterile blues and whites—and it’s not the usual tactical gear he wears on covert missions, muted tones and coarse to the touch. 

No, its the spandex version of his uniform, that ridiculously colorful suit he’d worn to punch Hitler on stage every night. Soft patches of red, white, and blue that fit snugly around his shoulders, but hang a little loose over the rest of his frame.

He’s reading from a tiny children’s book, splayed open in one hand, while the other steadies a little boy in a hospital gown perched on top of his shoulders. The boy’s eyes are wide, glued to the page as Steve gently rocks him side to side.

You hesitate, pulse quickening, letting his soft, steady voice wash over you for a moment—a rhythmic murmur that envelops the quiet corner of the ward. 

It’s not until he finishes the book that he realizes you’re standing there.

Soft blue eyes crinkle at the edges when he frowns, starting to uncross his legs.

"Hey, uh… guys, new mission,” He’s still a little unsure when he sets the book down, gaze still on you. “…whoever can help me clean up the blocks gets to pick the next game, okay?” He clears his throat, smiling back at the eager group as they scramble off to the toy bins in the corner. He gently lowers the boy from his shoulders, letting the little one rush off to join the others. 

You move forward, feet shuffling against the soft foam padding of the floor. As Steve meets you halfway, you clutch the sleeves of your sweater tightly, heart hammering.

“Hi.” He breathes out, surprise still evident in the small dip between his brows, though it gives way to a gentle smile. 

“Hey.” Your words come out choked, something unmistakably tightening in your chest. 

“How did you…” His eyes flit down to the loud pattern on your sweater, then behind you at the clock. His gaze lingers there for a moment, eyes fluttering shut in disbelief. 

“Shoot. I’m sorry, I had no idea it got this late. I was going to—”

“—Steve.” Your voice cracks, thick and watery—frustration, sadness, guilt, longing, all tangled with a deep, aching incredulity. 

And goddamn it, why was the tip of your nose prickling?

You take another step toward him, now close enough to notice the tiny details of his uniform—the delicate lines of stitching, the faded patch of white over his chest. And as your eyes trail over the frayed seams, you can’t help but lift a hand, the tip of your index tracing a gentle line against the end of a loose thread, pressing it down and watching it pop back up. It’s all you can do to keep from collapsing into his arms, or punching him square in the chest. 

“It’s been sitting in my closet too long,” he murmurs, the low timbre vibrating against your palm, “Figured I’d take it out for a spin.”

Your eyes snap up, and the air that escapes your nose is somewhere between a snort and a desperate cry because you know you’re fucked. 

Utterly ruined by this ridiculous, stupid, dumb man standing in front of you. 

And when he tucks his bottom lip under his teeth, trapping the soft pink flesh in quiet hesitation, the spring finally snaps. 

Brows furrowed, he's halfway into offering some kind of reassurance—maybe another damn apology—when you rise on your tiptoes, yanking him down by the loose collar of his uniform.

And then it’s nothing but the heady sensation of his lips flush against yours, a little stiff but warm and alive just the same. His broad hands find their way to the small of your back, the pressure against your lips growing firmer as he bends down, pulling you in closer. You’re gripping his uniform so tight your knuckles have turned white, but you refuse to let go even when he pulls back, his breath warm and steady against your skin. 

His gaze is soft, searching, and you become acutely aware of the hot sting rising behind your eyes, the bruising grip on his collar the only thing holding you together. You wonder if he feels it too, the weight of so much time lost and longing unspoken, rushing to fill the space between you. 

Then he smiles—a quiet, unguarded thing that tugs at the corners of his lips and lights up his eyes.

And just like that, the weight in your chest slips away as if it was never there.

His gaze flits down to your lips, eyelids fluttering tenderly as he starts to lean back in, only to be stopped short by a ripple of delighted gasps from about three feet below.

“Look, look, they’re kissing!”  

“Steve is that your girrrlfriend?"

A gaggle of children ambushes you two—a surprise strike from all sides with no escape route. Squeals of joy pierce the air as tiny hands grasp at Steve’s uniform, tugging at his sleeves, pulling at his boot. It's a full-on siege, and you’re caught squarely in the middle. Steve looks back at you, brows raised in defeat.

“Oh my god, she’s toootally his girlfriend!”

“Cap-tain America sitting on a tree,” A loud chorus of singing erupts. “K-I-S-S-I-N—“

“Okay, okay, guys–“ He’s got the biggest, dumbest grin on his face when he raises a hand to try and quiet the noise, the other still resting on your waist. 

He’s blushing something fierce, redder than a Christmas stocking, and hell, if your cheeks aren’t warming up too. 

The nurse on duty eventually settles down the noise, gently ushering the children out of the play area and leading them to their rooms. You watch warily as the kids shuffle out, stuffed animals raised in the air as they wave goodbye.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt…”

“No, we should’ve wrapped up a while ago.” Steve smiles sheepishly, his cheeks flushed as he ruffles the back of his neck. “It’s late.”

“Right.”

Silence stretches between you, deafeningly loud without all the tiny agents crowding your space. 

He steps forward, hand still curled around his nape, and you resist the urge to kiss him again. 

“Do you… wanna grab some hot chocolate?”

You sit idly in the waiting area, observing the ease on Steve’s face as he chats with the nursing staff, thanking them before heading back toward you with two plastic cups in hand.

The seat beside you creaks under his weight, and you go to cradle the warmth in both hands with a quiet smile. Your eyes drift over to the lights wrapped around the Christmas tree near the nurse’s station, shining brightly—and with it, the familiar knot tightening in your chest.

“Every year, huh?”

“Yeah,” He nods in your periphery, “The kids seem to like it.”

Your lips quirk up in a sideways smile, “Yeah, I bet.”

A beat, then: “Did Bucky tell you?”

You nod, and his smile widens, his gaze dropping to the floor as his leg bounces ever so slightly. The shiny red of his boots gleams against the linoleum, as he taps once, twice.

“I’m sorry I missed the party.” 

You track the rhythm of the tree lights as they blink—on, off, alternating between bulbs then flashing all at once—and he’s still apologizing. 

“I was looking forward to going.”

“Steve, it’s…” you sigh, brows furrowing at the absurdity of his apology, only for a new ridiculous thought to take its place. You blink, then, nose crinkling in amusement as you swivel around in your seat. 

“Wait, were you, planning on showing up in that?”

He laughs, the sound breaking out so warm and easy. “That bad, huh?”

You gaze incredulously for a long, deliberate beat.

“You know what? I’m actually glad you didn’t come tonight. I mean, for your sake.”

Quiet laughter bubbles up in your chest, a smile tugging at your lips as you turn your gaze back forward. But in the silence that follows, a thread of bitterness winds its way back through your thoughts.

"You know," you murmur, eyes drifting to the neatly stacked parcels beneath the tree, "you’re always helping out, doing things for everyone else." A warm, fuzzy feeling hums low in your stomach—though you're not entirely sure if it’s from all the cocktails you’ve had tonight.

You sigh, your head lolling onto one shoulder as you turn to meet his gaze. 

“…does Santa ever get anything for Captain America?”

He blinks, a quiet tilt of his head followed by a slow, knowing smile.

“Well,” the chair creaks again when he leans back, stretching out his legs with a satisfied breath. “He did this year.” 

At the puzzled furrow of your brow, he shrugs, eyes dropping down to the narrow strip of linoleum between you two.

Then, a gentle tap of his ridiculous, shiny boot against your foot.

When your gaze snaps back to his, he’s wearing that same boyish grin again, wide and stupid and far too charming for its own good.

You can’t decide if it makes you want to shove him, or punch him, or kiss him—or maybe do all three just to get it out of your system—because yeah, you’re completely done for.

Utterly ruined in ways you never saw coming, and it’s all his fault.

And if he leans in for another kiss, and you let him pull you in with a shaky breath and a smile that feels like surrender—

Well, that’ll have to be between you, him, and the giant inflatable snowman keeping guard just two feet away. 

(It’s not until you’ve both finished your hot chocolate, and shared just as many kisses as laughs, that you glance down at your phone to notice Sam’s text: 

bird boy 1 hour ago

yo di u take my fcking coat??)

[kurozawa46]

A very Stucky holiday season ☆ ⋆｡°✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎ

p.s. I am doing a Stucky Advent Calendar this year on Twitter and Bluesky ( kurozawa46.bsky.social ). Feel free to visit me there!

[gay-jewish-bucky]

[yourbuckies]

and even more of my favorite fics:

In The Dark • Marooned_Poet Lone Wolf and Cub • hachinana87 Tried to drift but don't know how • dharmashark the tender things we're working on • Lake (beyond_belief) Here and Where You Are • crinklefries I'll Get By • orphan_account turn me up when you feel low • fairyfable No Glory in the West • maggneto, profoundalpacakitten, Talli Cut Him Out In Little Stars • Gloromeien lane lines • sparkagrace

[oneofstarkskids]

inspiration

bucky barnes x reader

genre: fluff

summary: it's that time of year!! but what exactly does one get their 107 year old super soldier boyfriend?

bucky bought his presents early, as any responsible adult does during this festive season.

you on the other hand, had no clue what to get him for christmas. it wasn't like you hadn't asked, but the only answer you ever got was, "i have everything I need right here, doll," followed by a sweet kiss.

it was almost infuriating.

so...here you were, scouring the apartment for the boxes your well trained assassin boyfriend hid.

you looked in the most precarious places and finally, sprawled out on the floor with clutter around you, gave up.

that's when you heard the front door click and quickly started tossing things back in the closet. but it was too late. bucky caught you red handed, "doll?"

the look on his face was one of concern and confusion. you looked completely disheveled, almost neurotic. but the way you chewed your bottom lip guiltily made something click in his brain.

"you don't happen to be sneakily searching for your christmas presents...do you?" he asked with a smirk.

you shook your head adamantly, but when he gave you that look you eventually caved.

"okay fine. i didn't know what to get you! and you never give me an actual answer so I wanted to know what you got me and see if it would give me some inspiration," you admitted with a groan.

he laughed and knelt down next to you before wrapping you in his arms.

you were humiliated by the idea of getting caught for such a childish scheme. but bucky was a gentleman nonetheless.

"doll, I will love whatever you get me. not because of what it is, but because of who you are."

with those words, you finally knew exactly what to get him for christmas.

[deepdisireslonging]

Just a Phone Call Away

Bucky is away on a mission. He tries to cover the distance with a spicy phone call, but the Reader can’t get into it because she misses him too much. He goes the extra mile to making her night special.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings/Promises: dirty talk, phone sex, Angst, Smut, oral (female receiving), creampie, cock-warming, Fluff

Word Count: 2800+

Note: Oops. This was supposed to be a ficlet. Welp… can’t argue with a big smutty present, can I? Please comment and reblog to share with your blog friends if you like the fic! Happy Holidays, and happy reading!

“How does the house look?”

As your eyes drifted over the brightly colored lights and tinsel around your living room, you had to smile. “It looks great. I added some electric candles across the mantle.”

On the phone, Bucky laughed. “Our fake mantle for our fake fireplace?”

“Hey. It makes heat and it’s got at least a flickering image of a fire. And it won’t burn down the house.”

“Unless Tony’s wires short out.”

“Don’t jinx us.”

It had been a gift from Stark Enterprises after most of New York lost power last winter. Thousands of them were produced before the end of January and just about every home in the city had one. Each “fireplace” was technically a self-conducting generator that worked not just the “fire,” but also had outlets in the back for other appliances. He’d gifted you two one of the beta models. It worked most of the time.

You liked it. So much so, that you’d risked Tony’s wrath to raid his shop for a wooden beam to hang over the contraption as a mantle. It made your otherwise pitiful living room feel homey. And now that the winter holidays were in full swing, you went all out with decorating the space. The rest of the house was still a decoration wasteland. But the other rooms could wait for Bucky to get home from this mission. You stretched out on the blanket rolled out in front of the fireplace with a sigh.

The mission.

Apparently, sleeper agents didn’t take a holiday break. Steve accidentally uncovered a cluster of operatives in the last mission, and he made a plan to take them out. They left before Thanksgiving. Christmas was only a few weeks away and every call to Bucky suggested they wouldn’t be back till the New Year.

“What was the sigh for?”

Another one heaved through your chest. “Nothing. Just… missing you.”

“I know, Baby. We’re trying to wrap things up, but… you know how it is.”

“Yeah.”

The phone crackled like it did when he went through a tunnel.

“Huh? What was that?”

“Would you like to try something? I can’t be there right now, and I hate that. But I want to make sure you’re warm and taken care of.”

You sat up on your elbows. “Steve’s not with you in the car, right? Please tell me you’re not going to try and embarrass him again?” Your cheeks warmed thinking about that time Bucky sweet talked you to orgasm before you realized he wasn’t alone on the phone call. Steve couldn’t look you in the eye for a week. The memory also made you giggle. “Acts like that could get you on the Naughty list.”

“When have I ever been worried about that?” He chuckled. “No. It’s just me. Is the fire warm?”

Stretching, you laid the phone down and put it on speaker. “Mhmm.”

“You wearing your panda pj’s or… something else?”

A smile slid across your face as you played into his game. “No. Just a tank top and some of your sweatpants.” You side-eyed the phone. The same way you would shoot him a glance when you teased. “And that’s it. The fire’s warm enough I don’t need… all those layers.” You were rewarded with a groan. Trying to return the favor, you hummed as you dragged your hands up and around your body, imagining his hands and their favorite paths. “If anything, if I turn it up a notch, I won’t need anything after a few minutes.”

“You won’t need to do a thing here in a minute. Run your hands under your top for me? How does it feel?”

You slid your hands over your front over the fabric first. Already your nipples were peaked and tweakable through your tank top. Giving your breasts a squeeze made you hiss out a breath. Finally, you ran your hands up under your top. Your nerves sparkled with the promises of what was to come. Your whimpers made Bucky growl as you massaged your breasts. Behind the sound of him, the growl of his vehicle revved up. “Keep your eyes on the road, Sergeant.”

“My eyes are on the road, and my hands on the wheel. But, Baby Girl, whatever you’re doin’… keep doing it and making those sounds. Can you imagine how hard I am for you already? I wanna be there. With you sitting on top of me, grindin’ those hips into what’s waiting for you.”

Your hips bucked into the air, wishing you could do just that. “I wanna be where you are. Making you pull over so I can ride you in your seat. Making those blacked-out windows steam up with what I want to do to you.” Breathing heavily, you dipped a hand under the waistband of the sweatpants you stole from his dresser. Your nails trailed up and down your thigh, drifting closer and closer to where your desire was growing.

“Keep those hands on your breasts, Baby Girl. I know you. Be good for me? We’ll get there, I promise. But let me work you up a bit more.”

With a whine, you did as he said. But the more you kneaded, the colder you felt. “Buck-“

“The second I get home from this mission, I’m going to bring you to the brink only squeezing and sucking on those gorgeous breasts of yours. I’m going to kiss you head to core and back again. Can’t wait to taste you again, Baby.”

But your hands had stopped. One was pressed over your mouth to muffle your sobs. You slapped the other over the first as you sniffled.

“Can’t wait to… Baby? Hey… are you okay? What’s wrong?”

You used the hem of your tank to wipe your eyes. A sob burst through your lips. “I’m sorry. I… I just want you here, Buck. It feels selfish and I know you have to be out there doing what you need to…” You let the tears fall freely as you curled to one side. “But I want you home. I want you safe. Here. With me. I want you in my arms. Not on the phone miles away in the middle of who knows what. I like hearing your voice, really. But… it’s not real. You’re not here. And all I feel is cold. My imagination isn’t strong enough. Not anymore. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The vehicle revved again in the Bucky’s silence. You could almost see him. How his brow would crease as he frowned, trying to come up with the right words. “You don’t need to be sorry. I miss you too, and I don’t want to be away from you either. I- ah, fuck, Baby. I’m sorry. I’ll be home in a little while and then we don’t have to go anywhere or do anything.”

It took all your willpower not to scoff. “A Bucky ‘while’ or a Steve ‘while’?” You bit your bottom lip, waiting. He didn’t have an answer for that. Outside, the wind rattled your front door. “Bucky, I know you probably have to go back to work in a minute. But we- we can’t hang up like this. Please. Say something.”

Your phone screen went dark as the call ended. “Buck?” It stayed dark. You thought he must have driven into the dark zone Tony set up around wherever they had basecamp. No calls in or out. A sob ripped through your body. Then you startled as the door rattled again.

It swung open and your heart stopped.

“Bucky.”

He barely had time to shut and lock the door before you were on him. He wrapped his arms around you; the chill of his clothes prickled your skin with goosebumps. You didn’t care. He hummed an apology as you kissed all over his face and cried into his coat.

“You’re home?”

“Yes. I thought – it was going to be a surprise. We got ‘em. Been on the way home for two days trying to get back. I should have just told you. If I had known you felt so lonely I never… I’m home. I’m here.” He kissed you back, holding you close. He grunted as you squeezed him tighter. “I’m home. I’m here.” He kept humming it as you pulled him to kneel with you in front of the fire. Soon his cheeks were warm under your lips. “I should have told you. Am I on your naughty list?”

Breathless, you broke away with a laugh. “No. You don’t have to be.”

“Oh?”

“I thought you were going to kiss me from head to core and back again the second you got home?”

He grinned. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Mhmm.”

His grin glowed with the kind of danger that you yearned for. “Then I guess I better get started.” Sliding one arm around your waist, and his other hand digging into your hair, he held you in place for his deep kiss. Try as you might, you couldn’t move with him holding you so tightly. You couldn’t even thrust your hips into his front. Bucky chuckled darkly as you struggled. “What?” He ran his thumb across your bottom lip as you tried to catch your breath. “I thought this is what you wanted.”

“It is, Buck, please-“

He covered up your pleas with a flurry of kisses. This time around, he kept his hands on your waist, holding you mostly in place. With your arms free, you could cup his face in your hands. His cheeks were scruffy with mission-growth. Already you could feel the burn between your thighs. He grunted as you reached between your bodies. The tent of his tactical pants was warm under your touch. Breath stuttering, he thrust towards your hand. You took the chance to mouth over his Adam’s apple, making him moan. Leaning forward, you almost succeeded in taking him down to the blanket; but at the last moment he threaded his fingers into your hair and tugged you back.

“Nuh-uh. Been laying on a hard cot for weeks. Can’t I lay on something soft?”

You bit your bottom lip. “Of course. But-“ You tugged on the buttons on his coat.

It took both of you to make it through all the buttons and zippers and clasps of his coat and under-jacket before you reached his shirt. He tugged off the long-sleeve shirt, leaving on his black tank top. He jutted out his chin. You grabbed the hem of your top and pulled it off over your head. The giggle that bubbled out of you rivaled any that you had made on a Christmas morning. Bucky’s face of desire and appreciation of your form, paired with his lax jaw and glassy eyes… it warmed you all over. Reaching out, you snagged his wrists and guided his hands to your breasts.

Mumbling to himself, he massaged your breasts. He leaned forward to bury his face between them. You curled your fingers into his hair, giving his locks gentle tugs to make him hum against your chest. It wasn’t long before he was guiding you to lay across the blanket. His lips barely left your body. When they did, it was so he could shift his ministrations from one breast to the other or up to the underside of your jaw. He could have danced you around like a marionette for all you cared. Your vision was hazy with need and your hands couldn’t feel enough of him. He growled as your touch found his trapped manhood again.

“Gotta wait, Baby.” He sucked on the spot under your ear. “If you get your hands on me too soon, I’ll blow. Wanna taste you first.”

“Have you been starving for me, Sergeant?”

His moan into your shoulder was plenty of an answer.

As promised, he kissed his way down your body. Gently, he removed the sweats. You giggled again. He couldn’t stop looking between your glistening arousal and your eyes. Quick and desperate, he kissed back up to your lips. Then he settled on his stomach. His arms wrapped around your thighs. You did your best to settle in.

Not that it did you any good. He lapped and sucked at your slick like he hadn’t eaten in days. To a degree, he hadn’t eaten from you in weeks. But the way he devoured your sex was like he hadn’t eaten anything since he left. When he curled his metal fingers into your heat, you arched with a cry. His flesh arm stretched across your tummy, pinning you down so he could continue to take you apart. Desperate and mildly warmed up from the earlier phone call, you fell apart quickly. He laughed into your thighs about how easy you came for him.

“Missed me that much, Baby? Can’t help but feel flattered.” He watched you, resting his cheek on your thigh while his fingers continued to lazily curl within you. Every time you almost managed a comment, he curled into that spot that made your eyes cross and you lost your train of thought. “Can you give me another? Come on. Just one more and then we can rest.”

You whined. “Not… not without you.”

“But you’ve got me. I’m right here.”

“Buck-“ you moaned. “Need you. In me. Please.”

The flickering of the fireplace mirrored in his eyes as he crawled over you. But his fingers continued their slow strokes. If it looked like you were going to speak, he flicked his thumb across your clit and scattered your thoughts again. When he was finally hovered over you, he made a show of slowly dragging his fingers out of your slick before sucking them into his mouth. The way his tongue curled around the metal, not missing a drop, made your vision fuzzy with the memory of that tongue on your sex. He dragged his cock into the open, slowly pumping it.

“Gonna- fuck. Gonna have to be careful.” He reached down again, returning his fingers to stroking your velvety walls. His hips thrust, dragging his cock through the slick that escaped around his ministrations. “Need you close, Baby. What do you need?” He mouthed over your breast.

He might as well have asked you to compute the number of Christmas lights in Manhattan. The best you could do was grip the side of his head and guide him from one breast to the other. Your hips jolted when you needed more. Bucky’s fingers curled and scissored like you needed. He added another, stretching you pleasantly. Soon, you were keening.

“About to cum, Buck. Please. Need you. Come on.”

You screamed as he filled you in a breath. His whine of finally feeling you around his cock muffled into your shoulder. But his chest pressed hot and sweaty against yours. At first, he could only tremble, scared to move. But you rolled your hips. The pleasure coursing through you was ready to tumble over the edge, if only he’d move.

“Darling, please-“

Bucky thrust once. Then quickly pistoned his hips into yours like a man possessed.

You trembled and raked your nails down his back. Despite the fabric in the way, he growled all the same. His mouth fell open, pressing a breathless kiss to your forehead.

With a hoarse shout, you clamped down on his cock. The lights on your tree blurred into one bright glow. Bucky’s grip tightened around you, sure to leave bruises. His eyes fluttered closed as he came. Spilling into you, he trembled and rocked his hips a few more times, chasing the feel of you and the height of his pleasure.

“Welcome home, darling,” you shivered.

He breathed a laugh into your neck. But he didn’t leave. Instead he rolled to one side so your back was towards the fireplace. “Maybe- maybe I should leave a bit more often.” Your whine made him smile. He smoothed his hands across your hip and back. “You know. Just to the grocery and such. If I walk out and back in again, you wanna welcome me like this again?”

“Hmm.” You nuzzled your face into his chest. “If you wanted to do that, you’d have to let me go. And step back out into the cold.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“What? The Winter Soldier not a fan of the cold?”

“Not when I’ve got you in my arms and speared on my cock I’m not. I’m not moving from this spot until absolutely necessary.” He kissed your forehead. “And I meant what I said earlier. I don’t have to be anywhere. Told Steve not to call me till mid-January unless the whole world’s in danger.” He hissed as your nose pressed, cold, along the neckline of his tank.

“So you’re all mine for Christmas?”

“Christmas. New Year’s. Epiphany. Boxing Day-“ You cut him off with a laugh and another flurry of kisses. Behind you, the fire crackled warm, and your brightly-colored living room finally felt like home.

***

Master List

Other Bucky Fics:

A Gift to Me (F, S, Christmas) 

Starting off the Year Right (S) 

Cake or Cookies (S)

[gremlin-girly]

Spare Parts

So I had my first ask the other day from @cookieshakr (and idk how the ask got deleted im sorry). But since I wrote so much of the ask, it would be a shame not to post it. So dearest ask, thank you for being my first ask and I hope this did your ask justice!

"So idk if you've seen the Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special, but i crack up at the scene of Rocket getting Bucky’s arm as a gift. Can you do like a Bucky x reader of maybe their POV of how his arm got taken and box up all pretty; like they're relaxing at home and reader hears a knock at the door just to see Nebula there and just some kinda fluff and chaos."

Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, just wholesome wholesome times, Christmas gifts, and a lil hint of angst from Bucky (bc well it's him), established relationship, petnames (baby, doll, sweetheart)

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, copied or put through an AI machine.

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader (for the one use of "doll" and one of "ma'am")

Summary: When an unexpected guest arrives at you and Bucky's apartment, it sparks a Christmas gift no one was expecting.

Word count: ??? On mobile sorryyyy

Masterlist | Flufftcember 2024 | The Bucky Barnes Collection

When you heard the knock at your door late one December evening, you didn’t expect to see Nebula stood awkwardly in your hallway looking at her feet.

“Uh hey, Nebula.” You stand aside to let her in. “What’s up? You okay?”

Nebula doesn't move from the hallway. “I need Bucky’s arm.”

“You what?” Your baffled expression meets her sheepish one, like she doesn't quite want to take your boyfriend's arm.

"Sweetheart?" Bucky calls from the couch, the annoyance at your disappearance from his side coming through only slightly. "Who is it?"

"Nebula." You call back and then add, just as awkwardly as Nebula had, "She needs your arm?"

“You can’t have my arm.” Bucky pipes up from the couch, looking over at her with a frown. He’d already paused the movie you’d both been watching before Nebula’s interruption but his growing irritation at being disturbed was already beginning to show.

"I have Rocket as my secret santa." Nebula pleads. "Your arm is the perfect gift!"

“You should come in.” You sigh.

“Doll, you can’t be serious.” Bucky huffs. “It’s my arm.”

“Rocket would take good care of it.” Nebula counters, crossing the threshold.

You hold up your hands silencing them both.

“I have a better idea.” You pad to the spare room and after a few minutes of rustling and cursing, you re-appear with a box in hand, both Nebula and Bucky staring at you.

“Shuri gave it to me. It’s a spare.” You shrug, opening the lid to reveal a beautifully preserved metal left arm. The arm in the box sparkles with that new arm shine that was absent from Bucky’s current arm.

“A spare?” Bucky asks horrified. “What did she think I’d do? Put this one down and lose it?”

"Kinda." You offer Bucky a sympathetic look when he frowns at you. "Plus I'm sick of it taking up space in the closet. Not to mention the awkwardness of explaining it to my mom when she visited."

Nebula’s black eyes are like saucers as she stares down at the arm. Bucky and you share a look; an unspoken agreement to help out your friend, and to put a smile on the chaotic raccoon's face at Christmas.

“What do you think?”

“You... You’d give this to me? For Rocket?” She looks over at Bucky with a heart-meltingly sweet look and he sighs in defeat.

“Yeah. I don’t need it.” He waves his left arm at her. “Besides, this is a win-win. Let him think you beat me for it too.”

“Why?”

“Because it makes it look like you beat up and assassin just to get him the perfect gift.” Bucky chuckles.

"Thank you." Nebula says sincerely with a big, bright smile.

You're clutching the top of the dining chair with a white knuckle grip, trying to keep yourself from melting into a puddle at the scene before you. Nebula takes the box from you, angling it awkwardly in her arms.

"You're not taking it like that are you?" You gape at her and Nebuka blinks, looking between you and Bucky in confusion.

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

"You need to wrap it." You grin excitedly at her. "Stay right there. I have some paper and ribbon. Bucky get the scissors and tape."

"Yes ma'am." Bucky salutes you mockingly and heads to the miscellaneous kitchen drawer filled to the brim with odds and ends and random batteries.

Handing you the tape and scissors upon your return, he watches with mild amusement as you demonstrate to Nebula how to wrap the box; letting her choose the paper and the bow (which happened to be the biggest you had).

Once Rocket's arm was perfectly wrapped, Nebula gave you an awkward hug and thanked you before turning to Bucky.

The assassins gave eachother a wordless nod of respect, and Nebula and extra quiet thank you before heading back to the ship.

“That was... nice.” You say, folding your arms after the door closes. “I feel like Rocket will appreciate having his own arm.”

Bucky’s arms slide around your waist. “Do you know how weird it is gifting your own arm?”

“It was a spare.” You say playfully, leaning you head onto his shoulder.

“Your own spare arm?” Bucky corrects with a chuckle. “I don’t know. It was sweet. Reminded me of Becca, actually.”

You sag a little in Bucky’s grip and pat his flesh hand gently at his confession, giving him a peck to the cheek. “Oh, sweetheart...”

“No, no. In a good way, not a sad way. Promise.”

You hum softly not quite believing him but dropping the subject in favour of more kisses.

“Well, in the spirit of Christmas, I say we go and finish our movie.”

"Finally." He huffs, picking you up and walking back to the sofa with you in his arms.

[avengerscompound]

Steve Rogers & Rebecca Proctor (nee Barnes) Marvel Holiday Special (1991) #1

[artgroves]

For the wonderful Graphology by @leveragehunters!

[incorrect-marvel-because-why-not]

The Avengers (+) On Gift Giving

Pepper: Absolutely wonderful, as usual. - But seriously: gives very practical, well thought out gifts.

Tony: I refer you to the bunny. Mostly makes or repairs stuff for people.

Thor: Decent at gift giving, but it's usually weapons, alcohol, or something he saw randomly in a shop window that he thinks he heard someone say they wanted. Basically, he gifts based on vibes.

Natasha: Gets something she knows someone wants but won't buy themselves (like a new printer or smth).

Clint: Inside jokes and cringey mugs/t-shirts/etc. are his go to.

Steve: Personalized paintings or things he knows someone specifically wants.

Bruce: Makes gifts unless he thinks of a specific thing for someone.

Peter Parker (yes, I am aware he is Jewish. this does not have to be for Christmas): Goes on one big shopping trip with nothing specific in mind with a list of people. Makes his own cards.

Sam: Depends on the person, but usually he does fun holiday stuff or books. (ex. Christmas tree mugs or personalized ornaments)

Rhodey: Asks people what they want. Sometimes gets things he thinks they need.

Bucky: Ridiculously good at getting exactly what someone wants without them saying anything about it.

T'Challa: Very spot-on gifts, that are very practical. This does not apply to Shuri, who gets memes (interpret that as you will).

Fury: Gift cards and passive-agressive books.

Maria Hill: Sticks to the classics. Socks, chocolate, ornaments, etc.

Coulson: Makes most gifts and cards off of memories and inside jokes. Very personal stuff.

[bucky-obsessed]

Merry slightly late Christmas! I gift you, smiling Bucky!

[societyfolklore]

White Wine In The Sun

Title: White Wine In The Sun (Prompt- let's go somewhere warm for the winter)   Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary:  It’s been years since Bucky has truly celebrated Christmas, but this year, he finds himself reluctantly agreeing to spend the holidays with you at your childhood home—a sunny, warm retreat in Australia.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings:  Romance, Little Angsty and Fluff, Kissing A/N: Another entry for @the-slumberparty December daze challenge- Day 16) As an Australian Christmas is a different experience for us.. Also it’s 40+/104 degrees here today LOL taking inspo from White Wine In The Sun by Tim Minchin

The sound of jet engines roared in the background as Bucky adjusted his duffle bag over his shoulder, glancing down at the boarding pass in his hand. A flight to Melbourne, Australia, was far from how he imagined spending his Christmas. He looked over at you, the excitement on your face unmistakable as you juggled your carry-on and passport.

"You sure you want to drag me along for this?" he muttered, his tone low but tinged with humour.

You smiled at him, nudging his arm. "I'm not dragging you. You're coming willingly. Mostly."

He huffed, shaking his head but allowing you to guide him toward the gate. "Just remember, this was your idea," he said, though there was no bite to his words.

As you boarded the plane and found your seats, Bucky couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation. He had never been one for big family gatherings, and the thought of spending Christmas with your family in a small country town made him a little anxious. But as he looked over at you, he saw the excitement in your eyes and knew he couldn't say no.

The flight was long, but eventually, you arrived in Melbourne and made your way to the rural property where you grew up. The drive long from the capital, though Bucky could practically watch you vibrate in the driver's seat next to him, the aircon already blasting in the car. You regaled him with stories of Christmases past in in the country. “Down here, Christmas is typically BBQ, white wine, beers and prawns.” You did wonder if Bucky would miss snow and roaring fires. He listened quietly, his lips quirking into small smiles when you told him about your dad’s chaotic attempts to make pavlova and your siblings’ insistence on Christmas karaoke when everyone got too drunk or had to much sugar.

“It’s… different,” Bucky said cautiously as he looked out car window, watching the paddocks of dry grass and gumtrees past by.

“You’ll love it,” you assured him, squeezing his hand. “It might not be snowy and cold, but it’s still magical. And I want you to experience it with me.” The house was a beautiful, some old farm house with a wrap-around veranda and large trees surrounding it. Dogs running around the gardens by the house as the car pulled up the long drive. As you stepped out of the car, Bucky followed getting hit in the face by the stifling heat that seemed to not affect you at all as he took in the sights and sounds of the property. You led him to the front door, Bucky looked uncomfortable in the heat already.  Your parents came bustling out to greet you, their enthusiasm immediately overwhelming Bucky, though he managed a polite smile as they pulled you into hugs.

“And this must be Bucky,” your mom said warmly, extending a hand. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Thank you for having me,” he said, his voice quiet but genuine.

Your dad clapped him on the back, nearly making him stumble. “Come on in! Bet you’re starving after that flight.” “Your fathers even put the aircon on.” “Oh it is a special occasion!” You chime trying not to laugh as you both got ushed inside into the cool. “Thought your poor boy might melt on us if I didn’t.” You hoped Bucky had been around you long enough to understand ‘Australian’ humour or this might be a long few days for him.

Thankfully  Bucky adjusted to the unorthodox holiday traditions your family embraced. He helped your dad man the BBQ as more family descended on the house, earning approving nods for his efficient handling of the steaks. Your sister arrival  with her small family resulted in your shrieking like someone had doused you in ice water, Bucky had barely enough time to register what was going on before you took off sprinting across the lawn almost taking her to the ground in a hug  while her husband carried their new infant daughter from the car. “ABBY!” Abby squealed in delight, squeezing you just as tightly as you embraced her, both of you laughing like kids again. “Oh my God, look at you! You’re glowing!” you exclaimed, pulling back to hold her at arm’s length. “And her! Let me see her!”

Her husband chuckled, carefully shifting the tiny bundle in his arms toward you. “Meet baby Lucy,” he said proudly.

Your heart melted instantly as you reached for the baby, cradling her with practiced ease. “Oh, Abby, she’s perfect,” you breathed, your eyes misting as you took in the soft, delicate features of your new niece. Lucy yawned, her tiny face scrunching up before settling into a peaceful expression, and you swore your heart grew three sizes.

“Bucky!” you called over your shoulder, your excitement brimming over. “Come ‘ere! You ‘ave to meet her!”

Bucky, who had just finished placing a perfectly grilled steak onto a serving tray for your dad, looked up from the BBQ. He hesitated for only a moment, his brows knitting together in a mix of curiosity and cautiousness, before making his way over.

“This is Bucky,” you introduced as he approached, your smile wide as you gestured to him with one hand while still holding Lucy in the other. “And Bucky, this is my sister Abby, her husband Jake, and the newest addition to the family—baby Lucy.”

Abby gave Bucky a once-over, her expression swiftly turning approving. “So ‘is is the famous Bucky,” she said, her voice teasing. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Bucky glanced at you, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “All good things, I hope.”

“Mostly,” Abby teased with a smirk before extending her hand. “Welcome to the chaos. If you survived the BBQ, you’re halfway there.”

Bucky shook her hand, his grin softening. “Thanks. And congrats, by the way. She’s beautiful.”

“Want to ‘old her?” Jake asked suddenly, catching everyone off guard. He stepped closer, offering the baby to Bucky.

“Oh, uh…” Bucky’s eyes widened slightly, and he instinctively stepped back. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“You’ll be fine mate,” Jake assured him with a friendly smile. “She’s lighter than a ‘ag of flour. ‘ust support her head, and you’re golden.”

“Go on,” you encouraged gently, your voice filled with warmth. “She wont bite—yet.”

Reluctantly, Bucky nodded, his expression a mix of uncertainty and determination. Jake carefully handed Lucy over, and Bucky held her with the same precision and care he might handle a priceless artifact. His metal hand rested firmly under her body, supporting her weight as his flesh hand cradled her head.

For a moment, everything seemed to pause. Lucy stirred slightly, her tiny fist waving in the air before she settled again, and Bucky let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“She likes you,” Abby said softly, her teasing replaced with genuine warmth.

Bucky’s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile as he looked down at the baby in his arms. “She’s... so small,” he murmured, his voice full of wonder.

Your heart swelled at the sight. You hadn’t expected this, but seeing Bucky—calm, tender, and utterly captivated by your niece—was enough to make your chest ache with affection. You exchanged a quiet glance with Abby, her knowing smile mirroring your own.

“Well,” Jake said with a grin, “looks like Uncle Buck a natural.”

Bucky’s gaze flicked up, meeting yours with a hint of surprise at the title, but you just smiled softly, nodding in agreement. “Yeah,” you said. “He really is.”

Your younger cousins dragged him into a backyard cricket game, where he quickly became the star player despite his initial protests. Watching him laugh as the kids cheered his every move made your heart swell as you sat with your infant niece asleep on your shoulder.

As Christmas day turned into Christmas night and the endless buffet of festive eating turned into casual grazing under twinkling string lights, you found Bucky sitting on the back veranda staring out at the horizon where the sun dipped below the trees. You joined him, handing him a cold drink. You could see a mob of roos bouncing their way across the far paddock.

“It’s different, huh?” you asked, sitting beside him.

He nodded, his gaze distant. “Yeah. Different… but nice.” He glanced at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Your family’s great.”

“They love you already,” you said, leaning your shoulder against his. “And I love seeing you like this—relaxed, happy.”

Bucky’s smile faded slightly, his brow furrowing. “It’s not something I’m used to,” he admitted. “Being around so much… joy. It’s good, though. I’m trying.”

You reached over, taking his hand in yours. “You’re doing great, Buck. And I’m proud of you.” Bucky glanced down at your hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as his expression softened. The quiet moment between you seemed to stretch, filled with the faint hum of cicadas and the distant laughter of your family inside the house.

“I didn’t think I’d fit in Doll,” he murmured, his voice low and almost hesitant. “I mean, this—your family, all this… normalcy. I wasn’t sure it was for me.”

You smiled, leaning into him just a little more. “You’re wrong, you know. You fit in just fine. Better than fine, actually. I think my dad’s ready to adopt you after that steak performance.”

A small laugh escaped him, a sound that was still rare enough to make your chest tighten with affection. “Yeah, your dad’s good people.”

“You’re good people,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “And, for the record, you’re doing a lot better than the time Uncle Rick burned half the backyard trying to light the BBQ.”

Bucky chuckled at that, the sound warming the cool night air. “Guess I’ve got that going for me.”

For a moment, the two of you simply sat there, watching the horizon as the last hints of sunlight disappeared and the stars began to blink into view. The quiet comfort between you felt like its own kind of holiday magic—simple, real, and grounding.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter, more reflective. “Thanks for bringing me here. For… all of this.”

You turned to look at him, catching the vulnerability in his expression as he stared out at the stars. “You deserved it, Bucky,” you said softly. “You deserve every bit of this—every laugh, every hug, every moment of peace.”

His hand tightened slightly around yours, and when he turned his gaze to meet yours, there was something unspoken in his eyes—something raw and grateful. “You make it easier to believe that,” he said, barely above a whisper.

You smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Good. Because it’s true.”

The distant laughter of your family drifted out onto the porch, pulling both of you back to the present. Bucky glanced toward the house, his smile growing as he squeezed your hand. “So, when do I get my own honorary ugly Christmas shirt?”

You burst into laughter, shaking your head. “Oh, you’re in for it next year, Barnes. And it’s going to have tinsel.”

That night, after everyone else had gone to bed, you and Bucky found yourselves alone on the porch, the warm breeze carrying the scent countryside and flowers. The quiet intimacy of the moment wrapped around you both like a blanket.

Bucky reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve given me something I didn’t think I’d ever have Doll,” he said quietly. “A home. A place I belong.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you leaned closer, pressing your forehead to his. “You are my home, Bucky. Always.” The kiss that followed was slow and tender, deepening as months of unspoken longing finally broke free. Bucky’s hands roamed your back, pulling you closer until you were both breathless. He scooped you into his arms, carrying you inside.

[gay-jewish-bucky]

Merry Christmas & Happy Hanukkah!

Steve and Bucky Rogers-Barnes love sharing their faiths, and have since they were children, here's a peak into their lives when Hanukkah and Christmas overlap:

Food

Large amounts of Chinese takeout (as tradition has dictated, it's kosher if you don't ask too many questions) for Christmas dinner

Intricate gingerbread displays depicting the Maccabean revolt and the rededication of the temple menorah

Lots of jelly sufganiyot and latkes with apple sauce/sour cream

Holiday staples from their childhood together like brisket, kugel and cabbage soup

Bucky makes different cookies and baked goods every day, from black & whites and babka to short bread and sugar cookies etc.

Decor

The lights from their tree and fireplace fill their cozy living room, both are decorated with an eclectic mix of Christmas and Hanukkah decorations, both old and new

After sunset, the wicks of the candles of Bucky's extensive hanukkiah collection are lit, with Bucky saying the blessing and Steve holding Alpine out of trouble, the light spreading even further

Alpine gets her own mini (electric) hanukkiah and tree (complete with mini ornaments), so she is less likely to cause destruction

The outside of their house is accented in simple yet traditional Christmas lights, with a gaudy inflatable menorah front and centre

Gifting

For the most part, Steve and Bucky's gifts for each other remain practical yet come from the heart, Hanukkah is a time of knitwear (woolen socks, sweaters and blankets), Christmas a time for wholesome food and warm clothing, but when Christmas and Hanukkah overlap, they go all out with the extravagant gifts

No matter the year, they absolutely spoil Alpine with treats and toys at every chance they get

Events & Games

They'll attend a menorah lighting ceremonies, most often attending the one in Park Slope, Brooklyn, taking the time to remain connected to their old community

Bucky will join Steve and Matt for candle-light mass (Steve and Bucky agreed early on in their relationship to be there for each other for important religious moments)

Bucky's living family, as well as Sam and Nat, come over to share in Chinese takeout and Hanukkah games, like dreidel, while enjoying a mixed playlist of Christmas and Hanukkah music

[kurozawa46]

A very Stucky holiday season ☆ ⋆｡°✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎ

[navybrat817]

Hubby not only got me the one thing I asked for, the sweatshirt, he gifted me with a soft blanket and sequin pillow. 😂 That's love. ❤️

I hope everyone has a wonderful day. Sending all the love. ❤️