#i see fluff and i give steve a baby | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eviesaurusrex · 5 months ago

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ᴄʜᴏꜱᴇɴ ᴡɪꜱᴇʟʏ | ʙ. ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱ

Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: 5 incidents in which Bucky gets proven how lucky he is to have found you.

word count: 6.7k

warnings: MDNI, fluff, mobster typical themes, illusions to violence, more fluff, cursing, talks of marriage, starting a family etc., pregnancy, phantom pain, allusions to smutty time, slight dirty talk, my Google Translator skills for all things Russian, children, not perfetly proof-read

author’s note: Am I in my mobster era now? (Please don't try to strangle me when I butchered the Russian parts. I had only Google Translator as my trusty helper ;_; Dividers are made by @enchanthings-a and @strangergraphics!

Russian translations:

малышка (malyshka)—baby

милая (milaya)—darling

“Every day I wake up next to you, I pray to the gods and thank them for the love you give me. Every day I spend with you is more than I deserve. Every day I call myself lucky that you love me back, my dear. I love you more than anything in the world, more than the world, more than life itself. You are my everything. Thank you for making me the happiest man on this planet.”

“Should I stop telling you how good you feel around me? How good you take me? How perfect you look, all filled up with my cock and already pregnant with my baby?”

Привет, папочка (Privet, papochka)—Hello daddy

Привет, солнышко (Privet, solnyshko)—Hello sunshine

The first incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was when James Buchanan Barnes—fearsome crime lord, bratva leader, king of New York City’s underworld—found himself in the aftermath of a crossfire after a deal gone south. His doctor had just arrived to check out the gunshot wounds littering his arm and shoulder, and in his opinion, everyone made too much of a fuss about it.

He was fine. He made it out with barely any scratches.

“Nine gunshots, only one bullet I have to remove. This is a new record, Mr. Barnes.”

… a few scratches; he had to give him that.

On the other hand, his entire left arm had been reduced to nothing but a pile of scrap metal, so perhaps Bucky had been hit rather badly if he took that into account. He wouldn’t because he had to be okay, invincible even. The world he was born into was a cruel one that reprimanded one’s weakness with downfall and despair, and he had to uphold the legacy that had been bestowed upon him the moment his father took his last dying breath in the same car crash that had taken his arm. He had people to protect—his associates, partners, workers, everyone that he considered friends or even family.

Topped by only one person, one woman, who sat above them all on a throne he had created for her right next to his. Not beneath him, not a step below—right fucking next to him.

Speaking of which… The commotion outside their bedroom sounded a lot like the whirlwind he deemed to be the love of his existence, and cursing above his breath, his eyes moved a second from the slightly opened door toward the doctor holding the single bullet between a pair of forceps.

“Don’t you dare step in my way.”

Her voice rushed like opium through his veins, making the mobster forget about the burning pain of holes inside his body.

“I can’t let you in there. Not now. The doctor is with him, you don’t want to see that,” Steve’s voice echoed through the hallway, probably stacked with high-towering security men. Just as high-towering as the blond was, and still, his girl did not show fear. No, not her. Never her.

A scoff was heard, and the physician beside him chuckled under his breath as he started to clean the wounds meticulously. Even Bucky showed a rare hint of emotion around other people than her when a grin parted his lips for a moment. “You’re his second. He is his doctor. I am his girlfriend. Think again if you want to continue standing in my way, Steve. I’m not above using brute force to get to him.”

Hearing that from a woman stopping not even close to all their eye levels would be laughable with any other person, but her? Everyone knew she would move heaven and hell in order to get wherever he was. He had learned this the hard way and would never dare leave her behind again, not when she demanded to tag along.

She really is a wonder.

Bucky wasn’t sure if he had spoken those words out loud, his mind starting to struggle with the blood loss and pain seeping deeper than necessary into him.

Shuffling before the door made the brunet open his eyes again. “Fucking hell, woman…” The hardwood door opened, and he could see the woman ruling his world without even starting to grasp the extent of her power over him, turning toward his second in command. “I hope you don’t kiss your mother with that mouth, Rogers,” she spoke sweetly before she finally turned, her eyes immediately finding him on their shared bed.

Worry creased her forehead, brows deeply furrowed, eyes jumping from his shoulder to his injured arm, then right to the one missing. Without another heartbeat, she rushed through the grand but still cozy room, showcasing her taste because Bucky had let her redecorate this entire fucking house as soon as she had agreed to move in with him—after much persuasion on his part. He wouldn’t have given a fuck if she would’ve decided to paint every single wall a screaming yellow if it would’ve made her happy.

“Hey, милая.” His raspy voice from all the shouting broke a bit at the signature endearment for her, and he wished to reach a hand out to her, but the lack of his arm was jarringly apparent. So all he could do was watch her carefully settling down onto her side of the bed, scooting over the mattress, a warm, soft hand cupping his cheek while the pad of her thumb started to caress his cheekbone. “Hey, love,” she returned the greeting with a smile, worried gaze flicking to Dr. Strange. “How bad is it? And don’t you dare try to sugarcoat me like Sam bloody tried on our way here. I do possess eyes, you see that, right?”

Dr. Strange nodded while preparing the stitching material. “I have removed one bullet from his shoulder. Nine shots in total. I’ve cleaned them and will stitch them as soon as the anesthetic takes effect.” Bucky could see her nodding at the doctor’s explanation and tried to nuzzle closer into the palm of her hand. “Milaya?” She finally looked down on him. “I’m okay, ‘promise. They busted m’arm, though.”

His words turned slurred, slowly but steadily, and he focused on her soft smile that was always entirely reserved for him and baby kittens. He could live with that sort of competition.

“We will talk later, but I promise I’ll take a look at your arm, and in case there isn’t anything left to save, I’ll make you a new one, James.” She pressed a gentle, loving kiss to his sweat-covered forehead. “Now relax, my love. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Her voice echoed in his ears when the drugs finally kicked in, clinging to the sound of her.

Yes, he had been smart enough to ignore his stupid rule of not letting anyone get closer than necessary. She proved him right every damn time.

The second incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was on a regular day in December. Snow fell softly outside the grand brownstone they had chosen to spend the holidays at rather than the house outside the city. His girl had wanted to finally spend Christmas in the buzzing city again, and he had ordered their things packed and moved within a blink of an eye.

Now, everyone enjoyed their little piece of heaven surrounded by their families. Yelena and Natasha had returned to Russia for the holidays, Steve spent time with his own wife, while Sam had decided to go south to see his parents and check in with a few associates while he was already there.

Meanwhile, the feared bratva mobster, leader of the darkest pits of New York’s underworld, watched his girlfriend-soon-to-be-fiancée add a few more pieces they had picked up at Tiffany’s today to their Christmas tree, humming to the soft tunes of an old record wafting through the living room. His blue eyes, usually so menacing and threatening, rested with a loving expression on the woman he had sworn to protect with his life, one arm thrown over the back of the comfy couch he had spent a fortune on—but his queen fell in love with it at first sight and couldn’t find anything better suiting. Not that she had to. The shining black Centurion Card had been pulled out of the inside pocket of his black suit jacket the second Bucky had seen that look on her face.

He would buy her anything in this world, spoiling her rotten until she’d drown in pretty things.

“I think we need more lights,” she stated in a mumble, almost to herself, before turning toward him. “Don’t we? We need more lights, yes.” And so it was decided, and he smiled at her turning back when she started to roam through the red holiday box to find the last remaining string of colorful fairy lights. “No, wait.” Lifting a dark brow, the man watched her reach for the small package he had eyed since they’ve returned instead, all wrapped prettily and neatly.

Scooting across the soft carpet toward where he sat, his girl smiled up at him, holding the small present out to him before folding her hands over his muscular thigh, waiting patiently. “It’s not your Christmas present, but I saw it and… and I needed to do this. To have something for our tree.”

Their first real tree as a couple. The past three years, they had been too busy during the holiday season, barely being at home, not to mention the little time they would’ve had to go out, find a tree, and decorate it, so it would be appreciated as it deserved. This year, however, Bucky craved the comforts of their home, and he wanted to start collecting memories like this.

He bent over to her, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, hand cupping her cheek tenderly, the little gift almost vanishing in the vastness of his hands. “Thank you, моя милая.” How in all the hells had he become so lucky in finding this woman who now grinned up at him with unabashed happiness? “Open it! Open it already!” And he obliged, feeling giddy himself as she almost bounced on her knees, unwrapping the small box and opening the lid to reveal a perfectly crafted snowflake ornament, a picture of them together in Central Park during the worst snowstorm the city had witnessed in over a decade placed inside the clear crystal. Their smiling faces, almost hidden behind scarves and beanies, angled to one another, her lips pressing a snow-filled kiss to the corner of his smiling lips.

It was perfect.

She was perfect.

Gods be damned, but in that moment, when his eyes found hers again, he felt the overwhelming urge to drop down on his knees and ask for a lifetime together. But he wouldn’t. He had it all planned out, and he used to stick to his plans. He was patient beyond compare, but not when it involved this woman before him. So instead of caving to this sensation, Bucky carefully placed the crystal snowflake onto the coffee table in front of him and pulled his girl up into his lap in one smooth motion, wrapping her in his strong arms, fingers—both flesh and metal—tangling in soft strands of hair or gripping the soft black fabric of the hoodie she wore which once belonged to him.

“Каждый день я просыпаюсь рядом с тобой, молюсь богам и благодарю их за любовь, которую ты мне даришь. Каждый день, который я провожу с тобой, больше, чем я заслуживаю. Каждый день я называю себя счастливчиком, что ты любишь меня в ответ, моя дорогая. Я люблю тебя больше всего на свете, больше мира, больше самой жизни. Ты — мое все. Спасибо, что сделал меня самым счастливым человеком на этой планете, малышка,” Bucky rasped in Russian with his forehead pressed to hers and eyes intimately locked, watching the shy smile he loved so dearly spreading on her lips and making her eyes twinkle.

“I don’t know if you have insulted me just now, proclaimed your undying love for humble me, or started the dirty talk earlier than usual, but either way, I don’t mind.” Her fingers wrapped around his chin to pull his face closer to hers, lips touching when she added in a breathless whisper, “It sounded hot, so keep talking dirty to me, love.”

Giggling, his girl accepted the tender kisses of chapped lips to her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, her lips. He felt the uncomfortable pull on his skin again when Bucky smiled at her, his split lip still not entirely healed after a punch he couldn’t dodge in time. Under her care, it will have vanished until next week when the photographer planned to take a few pictures for their first Christmas postcards.

Bucky still struggled to grasp how his life had turned in that particular manner. He never thought he’d be one for domesticity and familiar bliss, but with her?

He was all in.

The third incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was when James Buchanan Barnes, invincible mob boss, returned home in the dead of night in a frantic temper, his entourage strolling behind him, accepting his orders with grave faces and solemn nods.

“Don’t let him out of your fucking sight. Track him as soon as he leaves his godforsaken home, track him inside his own walls, hell, track when he takes a piss. I don’t fucking care!” His booming voice echoed through the foyer, and with another deep growl, he handed his weapons to Sam; two remained in the holster, hugging his broad shoulders. He wouldn’t take them off, not until the threat was decimated under his foot. “We’ll do a 24/7 surveillance on him, boss. He won’t come near her,” Steve promised, knowing damn well what would happen to all of their heads if they couldn’t protect her.

Bucky bared his teeth in disgust. “You better not fuck this up, Steve.” This would be his first and only warning, and the blond knew that, so he nodded and retreated into his office, knowing damn well that sleep would be nothing but a pleasant memory for a while—he wouldn’t be alone, though. Everyone knew how their boss got when his queen was threatened by others. Those threats had already started to grow in numbers as soon as the underworld learned of their engagement, and outsiders trying everything to get in and on good graces with certain families smelled a quick victory.

How wrong they were in those foolish assumptions.

Sam watched his boss almost anxiously while he desperately tried to cool off, fists pressed against the pretty surface of a pretty sideboard she had most definitely chosen.

“I will kill him. I’ll kill them all if I have to.”

At Bucky’s deep rumble, Sam could only hum in agreement. He would be right at his back, killing all who wanted to harm anyone he cared for, especially those inside this building.

“I could reach out to our associates in Louisiana, get some more backup and gunpower. There’s this kid who’s a marvel with tech. Maybe he can come up with a discreet solution for the in-house surveillance,” Sam suggested, knowing damn well how excited Parker would be when he finally allowed him to tag along, currently bored out of his brilliant mind at college. Bucky looked up and over his shoulder, icy blue eyes resting on one of his best men—and friend. But the creaking above their heads let him pause in his answer, and both men stared up the stairs, knowing who eavesdropped at the railing.

Bucky sighed deeply. “We need to work on your stealth skills, малышка,” he spoke up and waited for her steps to pick up and for her to shuffle down the stairs. She did in a pair of cozy yoga pants, a large hoodie hanging on her form—the one he had worn before changing into his suit this morning—and fluffy socks with reindeer and candy canes printed all over them, her hair wrapped in a messy bun on the top of her head, strands framing her face. In her arms throned a king amongst pets, and white fur littered the soft fabric of his hoodie where she held Alpine close to her chest.

His heart ached at the sight of her in the best possible way.

Her eyes wide with worry—not for herself, but for him and all his men—jumped between Sam and himself as she reached the second to last step and waited there.

“I didn’t mean to, but… I heard voices and thought you’d come home, but then I heard everyone talking and it was kind of too late to go back to bed anyway, so I figured I could… learn a bit.” Bucky started softly shaking his head, his outgrowing hair tickling his cheeks. “You meant eavesdropping, малышка. That’s the word you’re looking for here,” he deadpanned, and one corner of his mouth slightly lifted at the sound of her quiet laugh, her fingers comfortingly petting the white fluff ball currently purring at the attention and headbutting her hand for more.

With another sigh, he stepped up to the stairs, raising his gaze to his all-ruling queen, and he felt the tension in his shoulders slightly disappear when her hand came up to his neck and rested there comfortingly, fingers playing with the soft strands of his dark hair. “I’ll be alright, James,” she whispered, and he wasn’t sure how she could say that with such certainty when not even he felt so sure. “We’ll be alright, I just know it. Nothing and no one will keep me from you, from becoming your wife and living a very happy life with the man I love more than anything in this world, giving him the cutest fur babies and children the world has ever seen.” Bucky sucked in a breath, and after gently putting down Alpine, he pulled his soon-to-be wife in a bone-crushing hug, wrapping her legs around his hips with ease. “We will live until we turn old and grey and can look back at all the memories we made along the way, annoying our children and grandkids with endless, embarrassing stories,” she continued to whisper against the soft, tattooed skin of his neck and yes, he could see all that and more, too.

It was easy with her to picture this picture-perfect life—and he would do anything to make it a reality. He wouldn’t stop at murder and anarchy, not when it came to her.

So when he slightly turned to Sam with his woman in his arms, ready to put her back to bed, he only needed to mouth the words, and it was done.

Do it.

The fourth incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was during one of those forsaken nights.

He woke with a startle and a groan escaping him involuntarily, the dark bedroom embracing him, a soft, warm body tucked into the expanse of his back, slow breathing fanning across his heated skin. His hand shot up with another groan leaving him, cupping the stump where once had been an arm, feeling the same agonizing pain he had felt in that car all those years ago, almost bleeding to death after a rivaling family had tried to kill them all off.

Unfortunately, he had survived—and the revenge had been brutal the moment he had recovered enough to go on a killing spree.

Trying to breathe through the crashing sensations, Bucky tried to move as quietly and carefully as possible, not wanting to wake the woman sleeping peacefully beside him because she needed all the rest she could humanely get. But the pain was blinding, the feeling of warm blood flowing down his skin so real, he could’ve sworn there was still an arm to lose, and his fucking legs were still tangled in the damn blanket!

With a frustrated huff, the mobster tried to just roll out of bed in a desperate attempt, not minding falling face-first to the floor, but the blanket didn’t budge, and suddenly, an arm snaked across his waist, and a warm hand rested on his muscular abdomen.

“D’not go…”

The sleepy mumble pierced through the agony, and usually, Bucky always obliged to his wife’s every demand, but not now. Not this time. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t crumble in front of her. She needed him to be strong and capable. He had to protect her and the little plum. He couldn’t show weakness, not even in the comforts of their own home. Word would get out, the pit of New York City would smell blood, they would come and kill her in front of his very eyes, make him watch when the life would vanish from her breathtaking eyes, taunting him, before they would end his life as well, releasing him into the bliss of afterlife where he would search for her, and—….

“Bucky? What’s wrong?”

Her voice, now sounding more awake and aware, startled and pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts, and he could feel the mattress dip and move when she sat up and scooted closer to him. “Hey…” A soothing hand started to rub over his back. “Talk to me, love. C’mon, handsome, I can only help when I know what’s bothering you to such an unholy hour.” Her teasing made him almost smile—almost. But the pain returned in full force, and his hand gripped his shoulder even tighter.

“Phantom pain. It’s nothing I can’t handle, malyshka. Go back to sleep, you need it,” he rumbled quietly, his legs finally escaping the trap that was their blanket, and the man sat up, feet hitting the floor. He attempted to get up in order to leave her to the quietness of their room, but his wife had nothing the like on her mind. She held him back and scooted off the bed. “Stay. I’ll be right back.” Blinking into the dim light of her bedside table, he reached for her and tried to get up. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Go back to—”

She shushed him gently and pressed a finger to his lips. “I said Stay. I mean it.” With that, his woman granted him a serious glance before she patted into the adjacent bathroom, one hand cradling her already quite prominent bump, and all Bucky could hear was rummaging sounds in their cabinets and a quiet mumbling.

“Your papa is a handful sometimes, little one. Prepare yourself because I need you in my corner, okay? Okay.”

Smiling through the irritating pain, the mobster waited for her to return and watched her closely when she finally left the bathroom and patted back to their bed, a bottle of lotion in her hand. “You think you need the mirror, love?” Bucky glanced at the full-length mirror in their walk-in closet shrouded in darkness and decided with a soft shake of his head. “Maybe later if it’s not getting any better,” he mumbled in defeat, accepting the loving kisses pressed to his right temple and lips. “Just let me know, yeah?” He nodded at her request, and blue eyes watched her like a hawk when she settled right next to him, on the side of his missing arm, a squirt of lotion already between her soft hands warming it up.

“I told you to wake me up if it’s happening again,” his wife scolded him quietly, her incredible hands massaging the hurting stump of his shoulder. At first, it hurt like hell, but the more she kneaded and caressed, the more bearable it got. “You need your rest, milaya,” he returned with a lingering glance down her form, eyes equally heavy with worry and love when they settled on the little bump he had grown to love so dearly, it almost hurt.

Bucky felt her eyes on him in return and opened his arm when she stopped what she was doing to climb into his inviting lap, straddling him comfortably. Taking his hand into hers, she pushed the warm skin of her husband under his shirt she wore to sleep and placed his palm right on top of the soft curve before continuing.

“Not more than you need it, too. You’re running the mob empire, not me.” Her voice reminded him softly, and he let his forehead fall onto her shoulder, eyes closed, thumb caressing the warm skin of her bump, hoping, praying, he would feel something, anything. But according to all the books he had read so far, it would take a few more weeks until he could feel the slight movements their child did inside his wife. “And you’re growing a whole fucking human,” Bucky returned and got shushed again. “Watch your language, Barnes. I don’t want their first word to be anything obscene.”

But she couldn’t fool him. He heard her smile in the scolding.

A comfortable silence settled between them, then, reminding Bucky yet again why he had felt so good around her the second she had walked into that room in the hospital, only raising a brow at the sight of six buffed men clad in black suits, armed with more guns than one human could possibly need, and him sitting in the middle of it all—disheveled, still hurting, ice cold. She had smiled, wearing those ridiculous blue scrubs, and he had spotted a splash of blood on her light grey sneakers when she had come closer, pointing it out in almost something resembling disgust. Still, she only had rolled her pretty eyes at the pitiful attempt of an insult.

She hadn’t given a single fuck about those intimidating men—including him—all towering multiple heads above her, tattooed, guns always visible, the rough Russian language floating through the room occasionally. And he had respected her for that, even though he didn’t bother to be nice at first. In hindsight, Bucky would’ve earned a beating from his mother if she had been still alive. She had raised him better than treating a beautiful, kind, intelligent, and compassionate woman like he had initially treated her. But after a while, Bucky had felt how she had snaked her way into his thoughts, catching himself repeatedly thinking about her over the course of his day, starting to anticipate the next appointment to get his prosthetic measured, built, and adjusted, always looking forward to seeing her face.

She hadn’t given a flying fuck either when he finally revealed who he was and what he did, only cocking her head to the side in question and asking him, “Will you or one of your guys kill me after our time is over?” And when he had shook his head, denying those thoughts, she had smiled brightly, before turning back to the prosthetic arm she had crafted for him. “Then we don’t have a problem. Everyone has to earn their money somehow, James.” That was also the first time anyone had called him by that name since his parents had died, and he had fallen for her right then and there, ready to kneel at her feet and surer as hell that he would make her his queen.

“Don’t count on that, malyshka. Everyone around here is using filthy language, and do I need to remind you of certain… situations where the little plum currently has to listen in? Or do you want me to stop? Мне перестать говорить тебе, как хорошо ты себя чувствуешь рядом со мной? Как хорошо ты меня принимаешь? Как идеально ты выглядишь, вся заполненная моим членом и уже беременная моим ребенком?” He felt the pain slowly but steadily subside under her knowing and well-versed hands, feeling them stop in their magic as the huskily whispered Russian words flowed effortlessly over his lips, feeling her squirm in his lap.

Leaning slightly back in order to have a better look at his face, his wife bit her lower lip, making now the feared bratva leader squirm underneath her, his hand protectively pressed into her lower back, not daring to let her fall off of him. “You are a very evil man, James Barnes,” she hummed with almost a purring edge to her voice, making him grin as cocky as possible. “You married the worst of the bunch, malyshka—and you like it. You can’t hide it, not from me, never from me. Not when I’m balls-deep it that deliciously tight…—” Her lips pressing against his made him moan deep in his throat and stop taking altogether. Forgotten was the pain of the past. It still bothered him, somewhere in the back of his mind, but her scent, her taste, the feeling of his wife against him made him forget about it.

The past was the past, and now, only the present and the future held importance to him.

Lifting her with one arm with ease, the mobster carefully moved her to the middle of their bed, hovering above her and watching her pretty face with a loving gaze. “You’re my everything,” he dared to whisper. “You both are.” He felt her hands cupping his face tenderly as if he wasn’t the killer everyone feared across the East Coast as if he was something precious even though he was broken beyond repair. “And you are ours, Bucky.” She kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his lips, and his left shoulder without disgust, without apprehension, but with deeply felt love.

As if he was perfect the way he was.

The fifth incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was after a business trip to Sicily that had taken too long for his liking, even though the business was good and the newly knitted connections invaluable. But it had made him leave his family for far too long than humanly tolerable, not even the many FaceTime calls had eased the sting in his heart.

“Make sure Enzo receives the gift for his wife and put a little something for him inside as well. Perhaps the Yamazaki Single Malt?” The 55-year-old whisky sure would make a fine gift for the young leader of the Sicilian Mafia, remembering an evening here and there when both men had shared a glass of scotch.

Steve walked beside him as they left the car and made their way over the sidewalk and behind the gate of the old brownstone in the best area in New York City. The cherry trees along the road were in full bloom, and the spring breeze was pleasant enough that the Barnes considered taking them all out for a day in Central Park. Work could wait after two weeks away from them. “Sure thing, Buck. I’ll call Stark to get a bottle,” the blond nodded and opened the door for his boss after walking up the stairs before entering the family home as well, happy sounds wafting through the air already.

Bucky visibly relaxed when he heard his family without a phone between them and handed Steve the concealed guns. They had made a rule for the house, and everyone obliged happily because everyone had been wrapped around their little fingers since the day they were born.

And no one would dare to go against Mrs. Barnes.

“I don’t want to be disturbed for the next couple of weeks, so handle everything and only bother me with situations that need my explicit attention,” was the last order the mobster could get out before the sound of small feet erupted from the living room and barreling toward the foyer.

“Papa!”

“Dada! No, waits for meeee! Annie, pwease! Mommyyyy!”

Bucky laughed as his eldest rounded the corner in full sprint, her little legs carrying her as fast they could, and the tall brunet crouched down to catch her little body. The little girl, resembling so much his wife, looked at his face with bright eyes, hands pressing against his cheeks and squishing them with an adorable chuckle.

“Привет, папочка,” she greeted him shyly, stumbling over her sounds and pronunciations, but Bucky kissed her little cheeks with such enthusiasm that her insecurities vanished in an instant. “Привет, солнышко,” the father returned with a kiss to her forehead and watched the questioning expression morphing onto his daughter’s face. Her tongue poked out between her lips, eyes wandering to the ceiling, brows drawn together in concentration—just like his wife. But then, she looked at him again, leaning closer as if she wanted to conspire with him. “What does that mean, papa? Yelena didn’t teach me that word yet,” she whispered, and Bucky laughed again, feeling almost crushed by the happiness he felt at that moment. “It means sunshine, my sunshine.” It made her smile as brightly as the sun outside the windows before she waved at Steve. “Hi, Uncle Stevie. You can go now. Papa is mine; you can have him back in… a long time.”

Nodding to underline her case, the almost six-year-old looked expectantly at his second in command, and Bucky turned with her still in his arms, looking just as expectantly as her. “You heard the little lady, Steve. Off you go,” he teased, and the blond shook his head with a smile, bowing before them. “As you wish, Princess Anastasia.” The girl huffed and showed the blond giant her tongue. “It’s Anya, Uncle Stevie! You always forget!” Chuckling, Steve took her hand and shook it apologetically. “You are right; my apologies, princess. Enjoy your time with your father.”

And with that, he left for his office, leaving the two in the foyer when they heard another set of steps.

“Anya, next time, wait for your brother, please,” Mrs. Barnes scolded the little girl gently, a smile on her lips and the little boy on her arm. His son nodded, holding his stuffed bunny at its long ears. “Yesh, waits for me, Annie! Dada!” More excitement echoed through the home as the small boy started to wiggle in her arms, and Bucky rushed over to her, catching Elijah before he could plop out of her embrace. “Careful, little troublemaker,” he laughed and held him with his other arm, hearing Anya scoff quietly. He threw his wife a questioning look, and in return, she only rolled her eyes at their children, softly shaking her head and taking Anya to her.

“They had a… falling out earlier.” Anya scoffed again as if her mother understated the entire ordeal, wanting to be put back on her feet, and hugged her mother’s hips closely. Elijah leaned his head against Bucky’s shoulder, bunny pressed tightly into his chest, watching his sister. “He ruined my homework! Miss Pepper said she’s suuuuuper excited for my solar system model, and then, papa, Eli just banged his stupid bunny on it!” Angry tears gathered in her eyes, almost rolling down her pretty face. His youngest looked positively undisturbed as he watched his sister unraveling over her homework, and Bucky sighed.

“Bunny s’not shtupid. Annie’s plant-… plants-… planets! Annie��s planets looks ugly, dada. Not pretty like mommy,” Elijah stated with confidence, making the tears finally spill over Anya’s cheeks. “I hate you! You’re not my little brother anymore!” And with that, the little girl pulled away from the soothing hands of her mother, almost tumbling over the stairs as she ran upstairs, a loud bang echoing through the house when she closed her door with force.

Another sigh escaped Bucky and his wife alike, both parents looking down at their little boy who started to chew on his bunny’s ear. “Honey, that wasn’t very nice to say,” she reprimanded her son and took him from Bucky when he stretched his little chubby arms toward his mother, keeping a hand on his little back. “Annie is sads?” She nodded and kissed the dark mob of hair her son had inherited from his father, just like the blue of his eyes. “She’s upset, baby, yes. We will give her a moment to calm down before we’re going upstairs to apologize, yes?”

Elijah nodded with tears in his eyes, and the father couldn’t hold back, so he gently cupped his youngest head and pressed a lingering kiss onto the wild dark curls. “Can me and bunny asks Miss Melina fors cookies?” Smiling, she pressed a kiss to his cheek before putting him onto his small feet. “But only one, baby!” He was already on his way, chanting for cookies.

In an instant, Bucky pulled his wife into his arms, capturing her lips with his, a rumbling moan escaping him at the taste and feel of her. “Two fucking weeks are too long, malyshka,” he stated with another lingering kiss, fingers tangled in her hair. “Tell me about it. Try to manage two kids who switch between being the bestes of friends and each other’s enemy number one multiple times a day.” Taking her in more closely, Bucky could see the dark circles under her eyes and the tight muscles around her lips. His thumb swept across the dark circles, and his lips followed to kiss them better. “I’m so sorry, milaya,” he murmured with another kiss to her forehead and felt her hand hitting him against the back of his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You had to be there, and we had to stay here with school for Anya and Eli’s first day at kindergarten. We managed. I wouldn’t mind if you take over bedtime duty for a while, though.”

Bucky grinned happily at the prospect of spending time with his kids, feeling the love only a father could feel coursing through his body. “Of course, love. We’ll get you something nice on our stroll over Fifth and let the kids play in Central Park while you enjoy a book, alright? I’ll pick up a few new bedtime stories as well, so you will not even be remotely needed and can enjoy bath after bath. Would that make my wife happy?” Sighing, she leaned heavily against him, gathering strength through his strong body supporting the weight resting on her shoulders during the worst and most exhausting days—which they have had many in the past two weeks. “Sounds lovely. But don’t you dare spend a fortune on me again!” Her warning was unnecessary because Bucky would spend a fortune on his wonderful wife, and she knew that as well. “Please,” he chuckled and pressed another heated kiss to her lips, his fingers cupping her chin tenderly. “I’ll buy whatever you want, milaya. Perhaps we could even get something for us.”

He loved his wife in pretty clothes, but he loved her especially dearly in pretty lingerie he had no qualm of ripping off her gorgeous body the second she’d appear before him, reducing the masterfully crafted pieces to lacy shreds on their bedroom floor. The first time he did that, he hadn’t gotten the opportunity to pull her to bed, receiving a scolding he had gotten the last time, probably as a boy. She had been royally pissed at his antics, mourning the pretty set she had bought for their first night together. The next day, she received a delivery of all the pieces she had eyed at the shops and saved online, making her closet filled with more lingerie than a regular woman would need in her entire life.

Only that she wasn’t a regular woman with a regular man. He could buy her anything and in any quantity possible, so he wasn’t one to hold back when the urge to see this goddess of a woman naked made him growl and impatient—and even a tad jealous of the fabric touching her skin instead of his hands and lips.

“You are the worst of the bunch, Barnes. Seriously.” Exasperated, she looked up at him, her cheeks warming under his touch, and Bucky nodded with a serious expression. “I am insatiable when it comes to you, malyshka. And you thrive on the power you have over me.” Eye-rolling, she shook her head again, winding out of his arms and smacking his ass with a teasing smile. “Stop being a seventeen year old horndog and move your sexy backside up to your daughter. She’ll listen to you more than me after two weeks filled with my constant presence. I’ll see what I can save from her project, and stopping Elijah from munching on too many cookies…”

The last part was barely a mumble, already distracted by whatever thought wandered through her beautiful mind, and Bucky watched her retreating back with a smile before shrugging out of his suit jacket. Throwing it over the stair railing, he made his way to his eldest’s room, softly knocking at the door littered with pictures and posters of her favorite animals and characters—he could even see the remnants of a glitter pen—and knew how lucky he could count himself when he was allowed to enter his sunshine’s room.

He had the perfect wife, two healthy, wonderful children, and had found happiness despite the way his life had taken.

He had indeed chosen wisely.

author's note: Tysm for reading my silly little writing. As usual: likes, reblogs, and comments are so much appreciated! I love to read your thoughts <3

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fluff #mob boss!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky #mob bucky #mob au #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky fluff #mobster bucky

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buckyalpine · 1 year ago

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40's baby Bucky & baby Reader, Present Bucky x Reader, all the flufff, a lil angst but it just adds to the fluff, promise

Bucky sat under the tree with a very prominent pout on his chubby face, his arms crossed against his chest with his brows pulled together. He wasn't happy. Not one bit. Not after his favorite ball was kicked over a fence by the other neighborhood boys.

"Bucky, do you want to play with me?" You toddled over to your best friend hoping to lift his spirits after seeing him so grumpy only to be met with a huff.

"No! Go play with Stevie instead. Leave me alone!" He frowned, brushing you off and turning his back at you to sulk facing the tree instead.

"But-

"I don't want to play with you" Bucky grumbled. Your bottom lip wobbled, dropping your shoulders as you walked off and sat by yourself under some shade on your porch. You didn't have many friends being the youngest and only little girl on your street; Bucky and Steve being the only two who included you in their games.

"Bucky's mean" You picked up one of your dolls, setting her up beside you while you toyed with a wild flowers, doing your best to keep from sniffling after he shooed you away. You knew he was upset but you wanted to make him feel better!

Of course it didn't take long for Bucky to feel bad, peeking over to see your fallen face sitting all alone on the steps of your house, eyes wet with tears which you were desperately blinking back. He got a bad feeling in his little pudgy belly, knowing he wasn't very nice to you. He knew his ma wouldn't be very happy if she heard how he'd spoken to you, especially after you were just trying to brighten his mood. He got up from his place on the grass, nicking a few flowers from his garden before shuffling over to you only to be met with your now grumpy face, crossing your arms and turning away just like he did.

"I'm sorry y/n" Bucky came and plopped beside you, moving the doll away, while clutching onto a few pink tulips. You didn't respond, still mad at him for being mean to you when you'd done nothing wrong. "C'mon jellybean, pwease?"

His baby blues were shining bright as he gave you his best puppy eyes, hoping you'd forgive him. You felt a giddy at the name he called you, one he'd given you because he thought you were sweet like one. You turned to face him while he gave you a shy little smile, placing the flowers onto your lap.

"I brought you flowers" He stated proudly, happy at the giggle you let out, setting them aside before tugging at his hand to run off and play.

"Y'promise you'll come back?" your eyes were wet with tears again although you were now 20 years older and the chubby boy you grew up with had grown into a very handsome soldier. He stood before you in his clean and pressed uniform, his face shaven, hair neatly cropped.

"Of course doll" He whispered affectionately, letting his thumbs swipe across your cheeks, kissing away the tears that fell. "I'll always come back to you jellybean"

"You better" You sniffled, standing on your toes to chase more of his lips as he pressed them to yours, his hands wrapping around your waist, picking you up with ease.

"M'gonna come right back to you, safe n'sound" He held you for as long as he could, rocking you close to his chest while you fought back a sob, giving him a brave smile instead.

"I love you Jamie"

"I love you jellybean"

That was the last time you saw him.

"This is a bad idea"

"When have I ever had a bad idea" Tony scoffed, continuing to tinker with his quantum portal while Bruce looked over numbers.

"It's not stable enough Tony, if we send someone through this, they could get stuck in an alternate timeline or we could end up changing the future-

"Yea, yea, stop worrying, hand me that spanner"

Bruce sighed, handing over the tool while contemplating on the safest way to test the machine. It wasn't ready to handle anyone actually travelling through time but at the very least they could potentially open portals to the past.

"We gotta put in a location to see if this works-how about-" Tony contemplated on a location, his eyes growing wide with excitement when he spotted Steve's diary that he'd left behind in the lab, "Let's see if Captain has any interesting places from the 40's"

"Why wouldn't you just see if we could get to the compound garden" Bruce groaned while Tony flipped through the pages, typing in an address that had been scribbled in. It was from a list of places Steve wanted to visit again from when he was a child, the address of the person listed under friends. There was only one other person listed there other than Bucky.

"Alright, call the others, let's see if this baby works"

"You're going to get us all killed" Bruce shook his head while calling for everyone to come to the lab. By now everyone was used to Tony's antics; the only one who was genuinely giddy with excitement was surprisingly Bucky. One thing he'd always loved was science; even his stoic expression couldn't hide the twinkle in his eye every time he got to see another Stark experiment.

"Glad you all made it. Now, thanks to Cap, we're going to see if we can open a portal that travels back to the 1940's. I suggest you all stand back since I haven't actually tested this before"

"Why are you like this" Nat snorted while Tony waved her off, pushing a few more buttons before hitting start. Bucky watched from the safe sidelines of the lab as the machine began to vibrate, a low buzz growing louder until a portal roared to life that lead to the inside of someone's home. Bucky and Steve were both stunned from shock seeing a flash of a very familiar living room for no longer than a second before the whole thing closed with a bang and a large puff of smoke in its place.

"Well done Mr. Playboy billionaire dumbass" Sam wheezed while the team was left coughing, the room cloudy as the loud buzz began to dull. "What was the location you even put in-

Sam stopped talking midway when he heard another voice coughing followed by mumbling coming from the place where the portal closed. The smoke hadn't yet dissipated but the shadow of a person was slowly becoming visible. Everyone froze when they realized there was someone on the platform, wondering who could've been sucked through.

"Bruce, turn on the fan-" Bruce hit the lab fan which pulled helped with the smoke revealing a young woman in a flower printed dress. An apron was still tied around her waist, flour streaked across her cheeks, a rolling pin still in her hand. "What the-

"JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES"

Bucky thought he was going to collapse as soon as he saw who was on the platform, his heart fluttering madly in his chest. He couldn't control the blush that crept up on his cheeks, butterflies bursting in his tummy, just as they did all those years ago. The young woman stormed up to the soldier, face full of fury as her palm smacked his cheek (Not hard enough to actually hurt him of course).

"HOW DARE YOU"

Everyone else in the lab silently congregated to one side watching curiously though Steve was still utterly frozen seeing-

"Y-y/n? Doll?"

"Don't you doll me" you whacked his arm with your rolling pin, huffing when it clanged back after hitting metal. That didn't seem to faze you as you switched and hit the other arm instead, making Bucky yelp. "You lied!"

You dropped your makeshift weapon to the floor, moving your hands to your hips instead, looking up and down at the man you loved with your entire heart, the man who you mourned for years after you were told he was dead. He looked much different from when you'd last seen him, the most obvious difference being an entirely new arm. His cheeks were scruffy and it was clear some form of time travel had taken place but none of that mattered. None of that mattered when the love of your life was standing right there, alive and well.

"Oh baby, no-

"Absolutely not Barnes" you huffed at the pet name he gave you, crossing your arms over your chest and Bucky thought he'd melt into an absolute puddle at the sight. He was thrown back to when you were both no more than 4 years old, with a cute little frown on your face whenever you'd get upset. "You left! I thought you-I thought you died!"

The sound of your voice cracking broke Bucky's heart, his hands itching to wrap you up and pull you close to his chest the way you loved. He could see your eyes twinkle with tears threatening to spill out while you rapidly tried to blink them away. You chewed on your bottom lip to keep from wobbling and it only made Bucky yearn to hold you and never let go.

"Sweetheart please, I didn't mean to leave you doll, I promise" He stepped closer to you, hesitantly reaching out to take your hand in his, not feeling the slightest bit conscious about his metal arm. The coolness of his hand calmed your racing heart while you sniffled, still refusing to meet his eyes as you stared down at your feet instead.

The day you'd been told he'd never come back had been the worst day of your life. You wept for months on end, losing the man you were waiting to marry. The only person you'd been in love with since you were 4 years old.

Seeing you standing there before him stirred feelings in Bucky h never thought he'd feel again. Having a home. A beautiful wife. Little chubby babies. All with his dream girl he'd loved all his life. There wasn't a day that had gone by where he didn't think about her. He didn't think he'd ever get the chance again but here you were, dusted in flour like you always were whenever you were in the kitchen, in a pretty dress he loved so much, fighting your cries after desperately missing him. He softly cupped your cheeks, swiping away at your tears, his forehead coming down to softly rest against yours. He smiled through watery eyes at your stubborn nature, still keeping your arms crossed while his nose bumped with yours.

"Jellybean" Bucky whispered, your heart melting at the name, swallowing the lump in your throat, "Please? I-I'll- I'll bring you flowers" He said with a shaky voice, nearly toppling over when you flung yourself into his arms. He caught you, squeezing you right back and lifting you off the floor to cradle you nice and tight before pulling back to smash his lips against yours. The collective sniffles and whistles from the team were drowned out by your soft giggles and warm lips.

"I missed you so much" you buried your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, the one that comforted yo the most.

"You have no idea how much I missed you jellybean, never letting you go again"

"Terminator, you wanna introduce us?" Tony was the first to speak up, not so subtly wiping away at his eyes while Bucky continued to look at you with heard eyes, introducing you to everyone. You could only wrap your head around so much at a time but nothing truly mattered now that you were back with your soldier.

And of course your other best friend.

"Steve" You giggled as Steve lifted you up with ease into a tight hug, grinning at his two friends finally getting the life they deserved together.

Seriously imagine how sickeningly cute these two would be. Bucky is so excited to teach you all about the future. He gets to show you how to use all the new technology around the compound. He's so naughty about it too, teasingly telling you he'd be happy to help you in the shower if there's any questions you has about water temperature.

He doesn't waste any time with asking to marry you. Its everything you've ever dreamed of and more considering Tony took the bill and ran. Bucky can't put into words how happy he is finally getting the life he thought was ripped from his hands.

On your wedding night, Bucky spends hours loving on you like there's no tomorrow which is why a few months later, your belly is swollen with your first baby. Bucky is thankful for the future because as excited as he is to start a family, he's scared shitless something could happen to his jellybean.

"Bucky, I'm fine-

"Absolutely not, why are you up Jellybean, go sit down, I'll bring breakfast to you"

"I can still walk y'know-

"Nope. You stay right there, don't move mama, just rest"

When you do have to move around, he's there holding your baby bump, feeling giddy over becoming a dad. He can't wait to meet his little baby that he's made with his dream girl.

After his son is born, he waits for your body to heal but no ones surprised to see you with a new bump not too long after.

Two baby boys are no match for all the avengers but they all happily share their god father and god mother duties.

Your third is a little girl and she's going to be spoiled by everyone.

Somewhere along the way, you get a white fluffy cat.

Bucky's life has never been better.

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mugglebornmarvelite · 5 months ago

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A Snowstorm, a Grump, and a Game

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: The snowstorm traps everyone inside the compound, but you're determined to make the best of it. The rest of the team is scattered around, playing games or lounging, but you’re already on a mission: pestering Bucky into joining you for board games.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Fluff, like two swear words, teasing, playful threats

Author’s Note: Thank you to my mom for unintentionally giving me this idea <3

Navigation

The compound was a war zone of boredom. The snowstorm raging outside had the Avengers grounded for what felt like forever, and everyone was handling it differently. Tony was shouting at Clint for cheating in Monopoly, and Natasha was kicking Steve's ass at poker. You were up to something different. You’d made it your personal mission to annoy Bucky Barnes until he played a game with you.

You hummed, skipping into the Common Room, with a miechvious smile on our face. You spotted him on the couch, with a book in hand, looking like every bit of a grump. Your favorite grump.

His hair was messy, dark strands a little messed up from him running his fingers through it, and his scowl was as deep as ever. Perfect.

“Mr. Barnes,” you called, plopping onto the couch beside him. “You’re such a buzzkill. It’s not even fun teasing you anymore. I may just give it up entirely.”

“Good,” he said without looking up, his voice as flat as he was pretending to read, his attention now on you. “Now fuck off.”

You gasped, clutching your chest. “You wound me, Bucky. Right in the soul. How am I supposed to enjoy board games without my partner in crime?”

His eyes flicked up from the book, unimpressed. “Sounds like a you problem, baby.”

Determined, you slid closer, reaching for the dice you’d conveniently left on the table next to him, knowing it would bait him hook, line and sinker. “I don’t need your attitude, I just need these-”

Before you could grab them, he moved quicker.

In one swift motion, he pulled you onto his lap, making you yelp in surprise. His vibranium arm was around your waist, pinning you down like you weighed nothing.

“Stop being a fucking menace,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly in your ear. “You send my blood pressure up.”

You wiggled, grinning despite yourself. “Oh no, what will I do now? Big, scary Bucky Barnes has me trapped,” you teased, your voice dripping with mock distress. “I’m terrified.”

His chest rumbled with laughter, a rare sound that made you feel like you’d won something. “You should be,” he said, though his grip on you was more protective than punishing.

His hands were strong, but he held you like you were breakable, and something about that made your cheeks heat. That heat also pooling in your stomach.

“I am not even scared, not even a little bit,” you pointed out, squirming just to annoy him more. “Honestly, this is kind of disappointing. I expected more from you, old man.”

He huffed, setting his book down without loosening his hold on you. “You’re impossible, дорогой.” Sweetheart.

“And you secretly love it,” you shot back, leaning your head against his shoulder with a satisfied smile.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his thumb absentmindedly brushing against your side. You melted like butter on warm toast.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost fond. “Yeah, well, don’t push your luck, doll.”

You sighed contently.

“Will you play a game with me later?” you asked, batting your lashes at him like a total brat.

“We’ll see, brat,” he said gruffly, looking at the ceiling, avoiding your doe eyes.

“Please?”

“Maybe.”

“Please!”

“Don’t whine.” He tugged on a strand of your hair.

You were undeterred, already used to how he pretended to be mad at you but always handled you gently. Your smile grew even wider as you started chanting, “Please, please, please—”

“If you don’t shut up-” he growled, but you cut him off by leaning in and planting a kiss on the tip of his nose.

The room seemed to freeze. His blue eyes widened slightly, and his gruff demeanor faltered for a split second before he exhaled sharply, huffing like a frustrated old man. He was your old man.

“You’re lucky I don’t throw you in a snowstorm for that,” he muttered, but his hand on your waist betrayed him, his thumb brushing soft reassuring circles against your side.

You tilted your head, trying to hold back a laugh as you watched his icy exterior crack just a little more. “So you’ll play a game with me? Pretty please?”

He sighed like it physically hurt him to give in, but he always did.

“Fine.” Bucky said so softly you almost didn’t hear him.

You grinned liked the cat the ate the canary.

“One game. If it’ll get you to shut the hell up.” His large hand was warm on your back.

“Two games.” You pushed, with a hopeful smile and poppy dog eyes.

“Don’t push it, sweet girl,” he warned, though his tone lacked any real bite.

You grinned triumphantly, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you made yourself comfortable. “We both know you’ll cave,” you teased, your voice full of smug satisfaction. “You always do.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. His tone was low, threatening in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Are you so sure, дорогой?”

“Keep it up, and the only game we’re playing is who can survive the longest in the damn snowstorm. Spoiler alert, it’s not gonna be you.”

You laughed, the sound soft and bright, and you felt his chest rumble faintly with a chuckle of his own.

“Whatever you say, Bucky. Just don’t forget, I always win.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he replied, “The only thing you’re winning is a one-way ticket to getting thrown off this couch, your cute little ass hitting the ground.”

And yet, neither of you made any move to separate, content to sit there tangled up in each other as the snowstorm raged on outside.

You soon fell asleep on his lap and Bucky made no move to wake you.

In fact, when Peter came to poke you, Bucky hissed at him, and Peter scampered off.

Bucky pulled a blanket over you, holding you snuggly against him, cradling the back of your head with one hand and rubbing circles on your lower back with the other.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Happy Holidays!

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

#james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #winter feels #comehomebucky

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imtryingbuck · 1 month ago

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Morning without kisses.

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky isn’t happy

Word count: 494

Warnings: fluff. Bucky being a baby.

Masterlist

He wasn’t happy.

Nope. Not happy at all.

And the worst part of it all was that you didn’t seem to even notice.

He was doing everything to show you how unhappy he was, from putting his hands on his hips, to huffing and puffing dramatically and even doing his best pout but yet you didn’t even notice.

Honestly? It broke his heart.

“Bucky? Are you ready yet?” You called out, the thought of being late and having an angry Nat on at you all day was not on the to-do list.

“Yeah.”

“Come on then.”

“No.”

“No?” Rolling your eyes at him - although he couldn’t see you - you went back upstairs and into your shared bedroom. “We’ve gotta go Buck.”

“No.”

“Steve will be there.” You tried.

“Not a child.”

“Well stop acting like one then.” Grabbing his backpack off the bed you went back over to the door. “Are you coming or not?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go then otherwise Nat’s going to be mad and I can’t be doing with that.”

You smile softly at him as he finally comes over to you, taking his backpack he frowns as he walks down the stairs behind you.

“What’s wrong with him?” Wanda asks eyeing a sulking Bucky as he sits with Steve and Sam.

“I don’t know, been like it all morning.” Watching him twist his bottle in between his hands, ignoring the conversation between his two best friends. “He sat in the back.”

“What?”

“On the way over here he sat in the back.” You shrugged. “I asked but all he did was pout at me.”

“Never thought I’d hear about a super soldier pouting.” Wanda laughs. “You should talk to him.”

Nodding and making your way over to Bucky, he gives you the most adorable pout ever before taking your hand in his and following behind you like a lost puppy.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes there is.” Wrapping your arms around his waist you look up at him. “So, please tell me what’s wrong.”

He mumbles something so quietly that you don’t catch it, asking him to repeat he sighs dramatically. “You didn’t give me my morning kiss.”

“Huh?”

“Your lips did not touch mine this morning.” He says slowly, sassy pants even points to your lips to his own.

“I did.”

“Didn’t.”

“I… I didn’t, oh Bucky I’m so sorry.”

“‘M not happy.”

“I know, I can give it you now? I know it’s a little late.”

He actually pretends to think of his answer before grinning. “I would like my good morning kiss now." Bucky sighs in happiness the second your lips touched his, wrapping his arm around your waist he brings you even closer to him.

Resting his forehead against yours his smile widens. “Are you happy now?”

“Indeed I am.”

He pecks your lips in a quick kiss, leaving you to laugh behind him as he practically skips back over to Steve and Sam.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

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munsster · 9 months ago

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fixer upper

A/N: IM ACTUALLY SO EMBARASSED TO ADMIT THIS IS BASED ON ‘FIXER UPPER’ FROM FROZEN 💀💀💀 does that mean it counts as a song fic…….. (gif creds: @buckysbarnes)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader (Season 3)

Summary: The kids aren’t saying you can change him, per se. They’re only saying that love’s a force that’s powerful and strange. 2.8k words

Warnings: fluff, babygirl steve, cursing, mentions of toxic (?) relationship, hopeless pining, pet names (sweetheart), shameless flirting

Steve can barely see through his rose-tinted daydream, but he's sure he recognizes your smile as soon as you enter the food court. And you lead a trail of whiny teenagers right to his register. This is the fourth time this week you've heard about Steve's lusturous hair and dazzling eyes. You have to hand it to them, they're not bad salesmen, just a tad young to elicit ethos. What the hell do they know about love anyway.

That's what happens when you're licensed and free on a Friday afternoon: babysitting duty. Now, in the event that Steve had been the one saddled with the party on his day off, he would've argued that they're not really babies and they should be self-sufficient. Knowing Dustin, however, this argument proves to be false almost every time.

But it wasn't Steve, it was you. Steve doesn't think he's heard you complain about one thing in your life.

Not even your deadbeat boyfriend called Brad. Who, as Dustin and Max and Robin love to remind him, is utterly replaceable and on thin ice every other week. Steve knows better than to get his hopes up after three months of having them crushed, though. He's learned to live with the strong sense of yearning he feels whenever you're within thirty feet of him.

Take now, for example: you're coralling half a dozen brats into a somewhat single-file line without even having to raise your voice. He should think it's impressive, but he's too distracted by your lip gloss and your voice and the way you did your hair today.

"I hope you give discounts to distressed young women," you tease, brows knitting when you look up at him. This is the part where he's supposed to respond with something charming. Sexy and charismatic, maybe.

"Oh, uh," he chuckles, "No, I mean, yeah. Sure"—Oh, but you smile at him and all that pent up charisma flies out the neon-framed sliding doors. They chatter out their orders at lightning speed, and he can barely catch half of what they're saying when you look at him like that. You finally make it to the register and pay half price. And your cone is always on the house, of course.

"Isn't he such a gentleman?" Max says unenthusiastically. Lucas elbows her side before retreating with Dustin.

"He's also a great driver!" Will chirps, shuffling away to one of the booths with Mike and El who giggle the whole way there. You turn back to Steve who stares off at them incredulously.

"You see what I have to deal with?" you say with some degree of affection for the chaos.

"Aw, come on," Steve says, tilting his head with a shrug, "you love it."

"I think they keep forgetting I already have a boyfriend."

Not much of a boyfriend if you ask me, he thinks.

But what he says: "Ah, yes. The elusive Brad."

You roll your eyes and grin at him. You know Steve has a crush on you. Or else the kids and Robin wouldn't be so adamant on marketing him to you. It's sweet, really. And honestly, you don't think Steve's unfit to play boyfriend or anything, but you're also not disloyal.

Your scoop melts down the side of the cone between your fingers. Steve nearly hurls himself across the counter handing you a thick stack of napkins.

"Shit, thanks," you huff, lapping at the stream of sticky ice cream. His stomach churns as his face screws into a sickly smile.

"Yeah. No problem."

"No, really"—you wrap a napkin around the cone, shoving the rest into your pocket—"I don't know what I'd do if I had to pay the entire bill everytime one of them had a craving."

"Really, it's not a problem," he shrugs it off like it doesn't come out of his paycheck. "I like helping out pretty girls when I can."

You giggle and tilt your head. "Steve Harrington, you're my hero."

He's almost embarassed at how fast his face flushes red hot and frantic. He reaches for the back of his neck on impulse, and any attempt he makes at seeming suave is foiled by Robin patting him on the shoulder.

"If you think that's heroic, there was this one time he singlehandedly saved Hawkins with this sick baseball bat with nails—"

He huffs, "Robin—"

"No, seriously! Don't be so modest, Steve, you're selling yourself short!"

"I'm not trying to sell myself at all!" he says, turning her around and guiding her towards the door to the back room.

"Great seeing you!" she hollers over her shoulder just before disappearing behind the swinging door. You wave with a chuckle. Steve tuts, fixing his sailor hat and shaking his head.

"Did you really do all that? Save Hawkins, I mean?" you ask. And you seem genuinely interested which is why it guts him. The one girl who actually gives a shit is coincidentally unavailable.

"Yeah," he says, shrugging, "but only to clear my conscience. It's like penance, or whatever."

You giggle, not sure if he's being truthful or playing it off. He meets your eyes and he's sure his heart stops dead in his chest for a beat. Nobody pulls off mall lighting like you.

The kids come skipping back to the counter, declaring they've all got different wants and needs around the mall for the next few hours.

"Okay, hold on, I promised I'd have you guys back before my date," you say, Steve overseeing the conversation from over your shoulder.

"Well," he interjects, "when's your date?" All the attention shifts to Steve, and he suddenly wishes he could swallow up the words and take them back for good.

"Two hours from now. Across town," you say, looking a little guilty knowing he's about to make the kindest offer of the year.

"I'm off at five, so I can just"—stop talking—"take them home after my shift."

"Steve, really, you don't have to—"

El grins, eyes wide as she whispers in Max's ear.

Steve shakes his head, "Sweetheart, believe me, I want to. Besides, you've already been through enough with the rascals. Go have fun."

You turn to the kids, almost pleading with them to accept Steve's generosity.

"Is that okay with you guys? I don't wanna leave you stranded," you admit.

They nod in agreement, throwing out a couple yes's and sure's. They're bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever, but you still feel bad dumping them on Steve like this.

Dustin interrupts: "This really just goes to show how Steve is a great candidate for marriage and other domestic relations. He can be odd at times and he might care too much about his hair, but you can tell by his actions that he would be a very reliable husband, a generous life partner, and—"

"And a great friend," you giggle, trying not to let Dustin get too carried away. You have sat through enough of his speeches for one day. "Now, quit trying to set us up!"

Steve rolls his eyes at the boy. "Seriously, at least wait 'til she's single. Then she can reject me for me."

You whip back to face him with a sour look on your face.

"Steven! That's not—that's rude to yourself," you huff, "Say three nice things."

He chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest and squinting at you.

"You're pretty, I like your shoes, and you smell nice."

"About you!"

"Ohh," he feigns surprise, "No." But you reach across the counter to whack him on the arm with a shocking amount of force. The kids chuckle from behind you. Steve can't help but smile when you raise your brows proudly. "Fine! I am deserving of love, I am great company, and my hair looks particularly shiny today."

"Good," you nod, "I agree. And I have to go, see ya!"

"With which one?" he says, watching you jog out of the store waving. "Wait! Sweetheart? Agree with which one??"

Steve sighs sharply, hands perched decidedly on his hips as his gaze falls flat on the militia of pre teens staring him down.

"What do you want?" he says.

"You're hopeless," Max says, mouth pressed in a hard line before she wanders off, arm-in-arm with El.

"Yeah, dude. And kinda desperate," Mike shrugs.

"Hey," he grumbles. Who knew such harsh words could come from such little humans. You'd think they'd be harmless at this age. You'd be wrong.

"You're a total virgin," Dustin says, very matter-of-factly.

Steve cocks a brow, honestly trying not to laugh at the severity of Dustin's demeanor when he says it. "I don't even think you know what that means."

Dustin blinks. "Well, I think you haven't had sex in long enough that you qualify as one."

"Shit."

...

Much to Steve’s surprise, it only takes butthead Brad two more weeks to absolutely shatter your heart. No one knows the complete details other than it happened at a frat party and you had to walk back to the dorms alone. But Steve doesn’t need complete details to know he wants to shatter Brad’s jaw with his fist.

But he also vowed to use means other than violence to get his point across. He should be awarded for the amount of restraint it took to see your bloodshot eyes and not speed immediately off towards Asshole University like a Brad-seeking atomic missile.

Of course, he’s thankful you felt comfortable enough to call him. In fact, he was the first one you rang. And he knows this fact because you told him while you were sniffling away tears a week and a half after the break up.

Now, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his beemer, curled into your sweater, and listening to late night soft rock radio while he focuses on the dark highway ahead of him. You hadn’t wanted to do anything else but sit in his car and think. His heart clenches everytime you wipe away a tear with your soggy sleeve.

He pulls off the highway during an ad break, finding a secluded diner surrounded by nothing but trees and gas stations. He pulls into a parking spot near the back of the lot where the overhead lights aren’t blinding, but you aren’t completely in the dark. He leaves the car on so the cold doesn’t seep in, engine still purring softly from under the hood.

“Who needs ‘em,” he says in attempt to lighten the mood. “Being single is way cooler. Take it from me. You get a bed all to yourself and you can fart whenever you want.”

You’re frowning, but you know he means well. You just can’t help the fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Oh, come here,” he whispers, leaning over the center console and dipping his hands over your shoulder and around your waist. His arms feel so strong and so warm where they envelop you entirely. Steve always was the best hug you ever receieved.

You can’t help but chuckle wetly into his collar after a moment.

“God, he was such an asshole, wasn’t he?”

“Uh, duh! Doesn’t take a genius to…” Steve laughs, pausing and brushing the hair away from your damp cheeks. “I know, sweetheart, and you deserve heaps better. You were always way too cool for that loser.”

You blink up at him in the low light. There’s a kind of twinkle in your eye that makes the tips of his ears hot. This time, you reach for him, weaving your arms beneath his jacket with a deep sigh. Your breathing slows against his neck, and he rubs your back while your arms tighten a little around his waist.

He can’t help but wonder what you’re thinking whenever you look at him with your doe eyes, seemingly sweet and far too inquisitive. He knows you’re probably just looking, maybe thinking of something else. But the hopeless romantic in him rattles his rib cage and shouts you might actually consider him this time.

“Wanna go get shakes? On me,” he whispers. You sniffle, wiping your aching nose on the cuff of your sleeve.

“I can pay for myself,” you tease, popping open the car door when he cuts the engine.

“Nope! Sorry, I don’t let girls pay, remember? Super sexist, I know. Plus the whole pretty privilege thing. Honestly, I should just be paying you at this point,” he says, hooking his arm around your back and feeling yours reach for his shoulder as you march towards the diner.

“I agree, rich boy,” you chuckle, “Reparations are in order for wrongdoings on behalf of your sex.”

He chuckles. He’s absolutely head over heels.

The waitress seats you at a cozy booth in the corner and makes a casual comment about the cute couple, asking how long you two have been together. Steve flounders at the question, flustered and pink in the face.

“Oh, we’re actually… not together,” you say, laughing awkwardly when she pouts and, again, remarks on how cute you’d be together. You order shakes for the both of you before perching your chin in your hand. Steve’s still reeling when the waitress walks away.

“Funny. We can’t even escape the third-degree from complete strangers,” you tease, winking at him from just a few feet away. Jesus, he’d think you were trying to kill him if you didn’t seem so lighthearted and playful.

“Yeah, pretty funny,” he sighs. And he’s probably being so obvious. Or maybe that’s how he is all of the time, so his heart eyes seem subtle. Or it’s obvious all of the time.

The waitress slides the shakes in front of you, and the bright red cherries sink further into the whipped cream.

“You know,” you murmur between sips, “I always thought you were pretty cute.”

He nearly chokes on his mouthful of chocolate malt, clearing his throat and trying not to crumble in on himself.

“Oh. Yeah, I get that a lot,” he huffs, “Mostly from little old ladies, but—Hey!”

You flick him and say, “Really! I know it’s not couth considering… Brad and all, but…”

“You’re being facetious,” Steve accuses.

“No—”

“Sarcastic!”

“Steve—”

“Ironic?”

“Try serious!” you hum, “I’m just saying, you’re very handsome. I was shocked to learn you were single when we first met.”

Steve’s blushing and puffing trying to maintain eye contact.

“What can I say? I’m just,” he huffs, “I’m not really worried about it.”

You tilt your head. “You’re not?”

“Nah. I know the right girl will find me in the end. Even if it takes a while. I don’t mind waiting for the right one.”

You settle back in the padded seat, wincing when it squeals beneath you. It makes you feel a little dejected, but you suppose he’s right. Especially because he seems so confident. So sure. It’s admirable. You want to be that sure of soulmates and love and the future.

“I feel the same way,” you whisper. He finishes off the rest of his glass with a smile.

“Though, it doesn’t exactly help having a bunch of little shitheads telling you to go get laid all the time,” he laughs.

“Oh, yeah, tell me about it” you lean in, “Just break up with him, steve is so much nicer. Dump that loser. Steve has a big crush on you.”

“They said that?” Steve’s not dumb, he’s sure you know by now, but he thought it was all conjecture. They will be hearing about this next time they want free ice cream.

“Yeah, that was like their main point. But I know with all the love in my heart they’re all full of shit.”

You shrug, and he chuckles dryly. He can’t decide whether you knowing is for better or for worse.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

Steve drives you home. You fall asleep in the car, and he keeps the radio low so as not to wake you. By the time he pulls into your driveway, he doesn’t care about the time or the fact that he lives far. He does, however, care about the way you smile lazily and peck his cheek in thanks.

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

He says it but he wants to tell you what he’s feeling. He wants to ask if you’re over Brad. He knows you’re not and that’s okay, but he wants to ask if he can hold your hand to keep it warm. He wants to ask what kind of flowers you like and if it would be okay for him to drop them off on your doorstep tomorrow. He has so much he wants to say and do, but he doesn’t want to suffocate you.

He doesn’t know that you wouldn’t mind him asking.

more like this

masterlist

#the babygirlification of steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #x reader #fluff #stranger things x reader #x fem!reader #friends to lovers #stranger things season three #scoops ahoy

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 2 months ago

Text

Good Morning, Handsome

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky never makes a big deal about his birthday—too many lost years, too many ghosts. But this year is different. This year, he has you. A quiet day, a box of small, thoughtful gifts, and an envelope that shouldn’t exist— a letter written across time, waiting for him to find it.

Prompts: "First birthday with partner" for @avengers-assemble-bingo’s 108th Birthday Celebration (shout out to @buck-star for giving me a square) & “I have loved you from the moment I laid my eyes on you.” for @elixirfromthestars’s cinema writing challenge 🎥

Warnings: Emotional gut-punch but with soft, healing moments, letters from Steve & Sam that will make you feel things, Bucky crying (and being held through it), cuddling, domestic fluff, and birthday kisses

Word Count: 2.6k

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

As he stirred, the first thing he noticed was the feeling of something warm pressed against the back of his shoulder. Soft lips, brushing repeatedly along his skin. Gentle. Unhurried. The sensation roused him slowly from sleep. It was still early, but the sunlight poured in through the cracks in the blinds. The world around him was still hazy and quiet.

He sighed deeply, rolling toward you and smiling as your kisses moved around to his collarbone. And he hummed in pleasure.

“Good morning, handsome.”

Bucky's lips twitched into a slow and sleepy smile before he even opened his eyes. He hummed quietly, shifting under the blankets. His voice was still raspy from a full night’s sleep.

“S’too early early for this kinda sweetness. What’s going on with you, doll?”

You chuckled softly, running your nose along the slope of his neck until you hit his jaw, leaving a soft kiss every couple of millimeters. You whispered in his ear.

“It’s never too early to remind you that you’re the most handsome man I know.”

He finally cracked open one eye, his smile turning into a lazy smirk.

“Flattery this early? You can’t even function before 8am. What are you up to?”

He narrowed his eyes at your grin, watching as you propped yourself up on an elbow and rested your chin on his shoulder.

“What if I just wanted to wake up my favorite guy with kisses on his birthday? Is that too much too ask?”

Bucky turned his face into his pillow, trying to hide his face under his arm.

“You remembered.”

He could feel pressure on his shoulder as you attempted to get him to turn back to you, so you could see his face.

“Of course I remembered. And I know birthdays aren’t really your thing, but… I just want today to be good for you.”

Gingerly, he peeked at you from under his arm. His expression softened as he caught sight of your shining eyes. Birthdays were something that he had lost to time. Buried under the weight of wars, mind control and chemically induced sleep. The more recent ones had been spent alone, years of surviving rather than living.

Now there was you. Curling into his side like he was something worth waking up to. Pressing kisses to his body like it was something to be worshipped. And for the first time… in a really long time… he didn’t feel like this day was a curse. Bucky rolled over pulling you into his arms, burying his face into your hair.

“You being here is already making it a good day. Stay here a little longer?”

“Of course, baby. But… only if you let me give you your gift later.”

He loved the way you absentmindedly traced shapes on his bare chest as you spoke. He couldn’t see your face, but he could hear the smile in your voice. You always made him laugh. The action somehow seemed involuntary. It burst from his lips when he was least expecting it. It was only a soft release of pleasure, against your hair and he squeezed you just a little tighter.

“You’re kinda stubborn, have I ever told you that?”

The way you teased him always brought a smile to his lips and it was always followed up by a gentle confirmation of your affection. You pressed another kiss to his collarbone before laying a cheek against his chest and sighing happily.

“You love me for it.”

“I have loved you from the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

And yeah. He really, really did.

The two of you spent the day in his apartment. Quiet. Comfortable. Happy. No surprises. No crowds. It was just how Bucky liked it. The day started out slow with morning coffee. Followed by a walk with Alpine, who suddenly decided that she wanted to spend the whole time curled around Bucky’s neck.

You make his favorite meal for lunch. He tried to help. He wanted to, but you insisted that he shouldn’t lift a finger today. That today, you would take care of him. You took care of him everyday. That’s what he wanted to tell you. But you seemed so insistent that he let you have your way. Anything to keep that smile on your face. It didn’t stop him from hovering in the kitchen, watching the way your hips swished from side to side as you danced, moving to the music playing softly in the background.

The simplicity. The domesticity. This… this is what he wanted. You were what he wanted.

The day passed in a haze of comforting and warm touches. Simple moments of affection. Loving words of affirmation. Until you brought up your gift.

The evening was coming to an end, it was almost time for bed. The two of you were curled up on the couch under a blanket. He loved having you wrapped in his arms. He didn’t want to let go, but you insisted. Wiggling until he loosened his grip. You reached under the couch and pulled out a small box. Your hiding places made him laugh. He had no idea when you had hidden it there and he was in awe of your skills.

“You already gave me a good day, doll. That’s more than enough.”

He accepted the box as you nudged it into his hands, then pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I know. But I still got you something.”

He knew better to argue when you had that glint in your eye. Not when he knew how much you cared. How much love you put into the gift… into everything you did for him. Even if he didn’t think he deserved it. Slowly, he peeled back the wrapping paper, watching your every reaction. He was certain that you were more excited than he was.

Bucky lifted the lid, his expression shifting as he took in the contents:

A custom-made dog tag— he had once told you that he had lost his and he wondered if he still had them, he would have had something of his past to hold on to.

A tiny compass— you pointed at it and said “because no matter what, you can always find your way home now.”

A key— “that’s for my place, so you can let yourself in at any time.” Bucky’s eyes had practically fallen out of their sockets. Immediately he clipped it onto his keychain.

A wooden carving of a wolf which had been painted white— “Sorry, I’m not very good at that.”

An old, slightly worn photograph of him from the 40s— one where he was smiling, young and carefree, before the world had taken so much from him.

His fingers hovered over the items, reverent and overwhelmed. Suddenly he noticed an envelope at the bottom of the box.

It was old— worn with time, the edges slightly yellowed. He took out the smaller items and trinkets and placed them carefully on the coffee table. He looked down at the envelope, eyes going wide.

His name was scrawled across the front in Steve’s characteristic cursive handwriting.

Bucky’s hands shook as he picked it up, his heart thudding against his ribs. He glanced up at you, searching.

“What—?”

“Open it.”

Bucky’s fingers skated over the writing before he turned the envelope over, staring at it like it might disappear… or just crumble under his touch. His thumb brushed over the seal before finally… carefully… he opened it.

His eyes moved over the words, slow at first, then desperate, drinking in every single letter.

Buck, If you’re reading this, then it worked. I don’t know where you are when you find this, but I know one thing— you made it. You’re still here. And I am so proud of you. I always knew you were a good man, Buck. No matter what happened, no matter what they made you do, that never changed. I’m sorry I’m not there to tell you that myself, to stand beside you like I should have. I regret that more than you know. I hear you’re running for Congress. Now I wish I could be there to see that. To see you making a difference. I’d have been your loudest supporter. You know that, right? You would’ve hated all the campaign posters with your face on them, but I’d have saved one just to annoy you. And… I hear you have someone now— someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved. I’m glad, Buck. You deserve happiness. You deserve someone who sees the best in you, even when you don’t. I’ve worried about you being alone, but I realize I don’t have to anymore. Makes things a little easier, knowing that I left. But I’m with you, always. You never have to doubt that. And if you ever forget, just read this again. Happy birthday, pal. Steve

Bucky’s grip on the paper trembled so hard that he feared that it might tear. His breath came out sharp and uneven. His chest rose and fell as the emotions hit him all at once. Steve’s words, his best friend’s voice reached across time and wrapped around his heart. Squeezing so tight it fucking hurt.

He shut his eyes. He swallowed back the lump in his throat. But it was no use. A broken sound slipped past his lips. But you were there. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him close as he finally let go of all the things he had been holding inside for so long. His shoulders shook with the weight of everything; the grief, the love, the years that had separated them, the trauma he had suffered. It all came crashing down at once. The dam he had built had been taken apart within moments, with a simple sheet of paper and a few strokes of a pen.

He clutched the letter like it was a lifeline. Like it was a piece of Steve himself. You held him through it. You ran your fingers through his hair, whispering how much you loved him, how he wasn’t alone.

When the tears finally slowed, Bucky pressed his forehead against yours. His hand cradled your face, fingers caressing your jaw. His voice was hoarse. Thick with emotion. But the word that came out wasn’t what you expected.

“How?”

You shrugged. Like what you had done was the simplest thing in the world. Like the effort you had gone through was an everyday occurrence. Not a miracle you had pulled off.

“I wrote to Steve.”

“You wrote to Steve?”

He watched as your expression became a little sheepish.

“I had some help… from someone with magic.”

Bucky frowned. He didn’t want you putting yourself in danger because of him. But you continued with your explanation.

“I sent him a message, telling him about you. About us. About everything.”

Bucky swallowed hard, unable to speak. He let you finish, whispering

“He wrote back. And he left it somewhere safe for me to find now.”

Bucky thought he knew you. He thought he had wrapped his head around how you thought. The things you would do for him. The care you showed him. But this, this was something else. There were no words that could truly express his gratitude.

“Thank you. For this. For everything.”

You only smiled and brushed a tear from his cheek and pointed back at the box in his lap.

“There’s another one in there.”

Bucky looked down at the box, noticing another envelope. One much whiter and crisper than the one in his hand. He immediately recognized Sam’s chicken scratch writing. He tore it open, knowing that he didn’t need to use as much tenderness with the newly sealed stationary.

Yo, Tin Man, Before you get all emotional, let’s just get this out of the way— yes, I remembered your birthday. And no, I did not get you a gift. Because I know for a fact that you’ll just grumble about it and act like you don’t care. (Don’t even try to deny it.) But I will say this— Happy Birthday, man! So, I know you’re not big on birthdays. Hell, you’ve skipped more than most people have lived through. But that doesn’t mean they don’t matter. It doesn’t mean you don’t matter. You’re still here, Barnes. After everything, after all the shit life has thrown at you, you’re still standing. And that? That’s worth celebrating. I also know about the other letter you got. Yeah, that letter. Don’t look so shocked—your girl told me what she did. And man… you are so damn lucky to have someone like her. Someone who loves you enough to move mountains (or, in this case, mess with the time-space continuum) just to remind you that you’re not alone. So anytime you get lost in that giant head of yours, know you’ve got people in your corner. Steve, me, and especially her. You might be a pain in the ass, but you’re also one of the best people I know. And if I have to be the one to keep reminding you of that, well… guess you’re stuck with me. Take the day. Enjoy it. Maybe even smile a little. Happy birthday, Buck. Sam P.S. If you haven’t hugged her yet, do it. Right now. I’ll know if you didn’t.

Bucky felt a small laugh escape his lips disguised as a breath. The sound was still shaky but lighter than before. His fingers stayed curled around the two letters, not quite wanting to let go. His chest ached. But the pain was something new. It ran deeper than anything else he had ever felt before. He’d felt it for a while now. Every time he looked at you.

He did that now. A quiet patience shone in your eyes as you waited for him. Waited for him to come back to you. He always would.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He just looked at you. Then, his voice came, quiet but certain.

“You did this for me.”

You nodded, your fingers brushing lightly over his arm.

“Of course I did.”

He exhaled another small laugh and shook his head.

“You really are somethin’ else, doll.”

“Is that a good thing?”

You tilted your head to the side, a flicker of uncertainty that he knew he should squash immediately. He huffed, setting the letters down carefully beside him before tugging you into his arms. His embrace was solid, grounding. He needed to feel you, to remind himself of what was real.

“It’s the best thing.”

He loved when you melted against him. He let the steady sound of your heart and breath soothe him. Neither of you spoke for a while. Both of you wrapped up in the warmth and quiet understanding. But eventually, you tilted your head to look up at him.

“You okay?”

Bucky searched your face for a moment before nodding. He didn’t say how he felt, didn’t try to put it into words. He knew he didn’t have to. You always understood. You pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, just like you had that morning.

“Come on, birthday boy. Let’s go to bed.”

Bucky’s lips twitched. His hold on you tightened slightly before he finally let you go. Letting you lead him to bed. As he curled up beside you, your body pressed against his, he let his eyes drift closed. His heart was a lot fuller and his soul a little lighter. He felt safe.

And for the first time in a long time, Bucky Barnes fell asleep knowing he wasn’t alone.

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fan fiction #elixirscinemaex #elixirscinema #4bbingo

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mrsbarnesblog · 2 years ago

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personal pillow

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Reader

Summary: You confront avengers when they start teasing Bucky about being too soft.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: established relationship, avengers tease bucky, he's a grumpy old man, fluff

Author’s note: soft bucky is my everything, and I literally cannot imagine him acting another way.

Bucky Barnes wasn't the most affectionate and nice person on earth. Always grumpy and with an attitude, didn’t like physical touch, and hated being vulnerable and soft. However, when you were alone in your room, he was a completely different man.

The only thing that he loved more than you, food, and old music was sleep. He hated it right after the Winter Soldier program was removed because of the violent and dark nightmares, but you were the solution to all of his problems.

He loved sleeping with you. On you, to be exact.

He accidentally discovered it once when he just threw himself onto your bed and somehow laid with his head on your stomach.

You didn't know why your boyfriend liked it so much, but since that day he always ended up on your stomach, your boobs, or between your thighs with hands wrapped around your body, and it was almost impossible to drag him away. You always ran your fingers through his fluffy hair in soothing motions to ease the tension in his body, and it worked every single time. Bucky slept like a baby in your arms.

Today he left early in the morning for training with Sam, but then he had a lot of paper work and something that needed to be done in the city, so you didn’t really talk to or see him. He only left a kiss on your forehead while you were still in bed and sent you a few messages throughout the day.

It was your day off, and you didn’t feel like doing anything special or being productive. So you brought a fluffy comforter from your bed, a cup of hot chocolate, and sat in the common room to watch a movie on a big ass screen that Tony bought to show off.

When the film almost ended and you were already kind of sleepy, you heard firm footsteps from the hall. The tall and big body was standing in the doorframe, but you didn’t see your boyfriend’s face yet; it was pretty dark in the room.

“Hey, baby, how was your day?” You paused your movie and squinted to see Bucky.

“Fucking amazing. A bunch of assholes and tons of reports that they sent me last minute.” He grumbled, coming closer to you. “Let’s go, I need my personal pillow or I won’t fall asleep.”

You tried to hold back a laugh when you finally saw his face. Tired and frowned with pouty lips like a child. Bucky was painfully cute when he was a little bit mad and annoyed, and you didn’t want to do anything more than pinch his cheeks and kiss all of his face.

“You look so cute, gosh.” You smiled, biting your lip. “But I have only... fifteen minutes of my movie left, and I really want to finish it today. Do you want to lay on me here for now?” You opened the covers and pointed at your belly.

Bucky stood there silently for a few seconds, still with a frown on his face.

“I don’t want these douchebags to see us here.”

“They won’t; Steve is on the mission, Natasha is already in her room, and Sam went on a date. C’mon, I’ll massage your head.” That was everything you needed to convince your boyfriend to give up. He took off his shoes and laid on top of you with his head on your stomach and hands around your waist.

You covered your bodies with a duvet and stroked his hair, brushing it over and over again with your fingers. You felt that Bucky pulled up your shirt a little bit, and as soon as his cheek met with your warm skin, he heavily sighted, finally feeling safe and calm.

“That's okay, baby.” You cooed, massaging his scalp. “Do you want to talk about your day? What made you upset?”

“No, just want to feel you, doll. Missed you so much.” He mumbled against your stomach and closed his eyes as your soft touches made his body almost melt into yours.

“I missed you too. I’ll just finish my film and we’ll go to sleep, ‘kay?” Bucky just slightly nodded, already feeling too sleepy to actually say something.

It didn’t take him too much time to fall asleep completely. Your gentle scratches and the way you rolled his hair around your finger, along with the muffled sound of the TV and soft cover on top of him, did their work, and Bucky was peacefully snoring on you in a span of a few seconds.

You weren’t much better than him; your eyes started closing as soon as the credit scene began, and you didn’t have enough power in you to resist it, especially when a giant, hot human pillow was sleeping on top of you.

So you just gave up.

The first thing that you heard when you woke up was mumbled talk and laughter. Your eyes snapped open because your brain completely forgot that you, in fact, weren’t in your room or bed.

The common room was filled with almost everyone. For fuck’s sake, when was the last time you saw that many Avengers together in one room? And now all of them were sitting on the other couches and armchairs, looking at you and laughing. Well, they weren’t looking at you; they were looking at Bucky, who was still glued to your body.

You quickly sat straight, now completely awake. The movements disturbed Bucky’s peaceful sleep, making him grumble and try to get you back under him.

“I didn’t know that Cyborgs could be so clingy.” The most annoying voice Bucky could’ve possibly heard in the morning filled his ears, and he lost every last piece of sleep in his body, sitting up on the couch.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Willson? All of you, in fact.” Bucky looked around the room, seeing Sam, Nat, Wanda, Tony, and Clint with shit-eating smirks on their faces; Thor, who looked just happy to be involved; and Steve and Bruce, who actually felt uncomfortable to be there.

“Sorry, Buck, they just...” Steve wanted to apologize but was disturbed by Tony.

“Sam just told all of us to come here a few minutes ago because he had something hilarious. And look! The strong and scary Winter Soldier is being a softie for his girlfriend.” Tony laughed, almost dropping his cup of coffee. You didn’t even expect that, but you felt a sudden wave of anger going through your body because you were already sick of everyone pushing Bucky’s buttons.

“Or maybe all of you should just mind your own business? You both would actually know something about Bucky if you tried anything besides making fun of him or trying to get him angry. You don’t even understand how fucking hard it is for him to communicate after everything that happened, and all of you are getting on my nerves. Just a bunch of children, I swear.” You growled, standing up and grabbing Bucky’s hand to drag him away.

Everyone was surprised by your words, and even Bucky looked at you with a weird expression on his face but still stood up, holding your hand.

“Sweets, it’s just a joke—” Natasha started.

“No, it’s not. I love you, Nat, I really do, but it’s not funny.” You looked around the room. “Y’all probably don’t understand the effect that your words have, but I see in private what none of you can. And when I tell you that your mockery and jokes make everything worse, I really mean it.” Bucky awkwardly shifted near you under all of the eyes that were glued to him. He felt exposed by the way everyone saw how he showed his affection to you and that he, in fact, was a really touchy and sensitive person. “C’mon, Buck, everything’s okay.” You looked back at him with your usual soft eyes, and his whole attention was now focused completely on you.

Everyone saw how Bucky’s body language changed when you talked to him, and even if someone like Tony or Sam couldn’t admit it out loud, the thought of being too harsh on Bucky appeared in their heads.

Without any further words, you lead your boyfriend out of the common room, leaving the Avengers in an awkward silence.

The comfort of your and Bucky’s shared room made you deeply inhale as soon as the door was closed behind you two. Before you could even say something, two strong hands wrapped around you from the back, and Bucky buried his face into your neck.

“Thank you, doll.” Your hand reached behind you to gently stroke Bucky's hair. “You didn’t have to do it, really. I got used to their words.” He squeezed you tighter, pressing his chest into your back.

“That’s not okay, baby. I’m sick of that. You may not say it to me or even admit it to yourself, but I see that it hurts you.” You turned around in his hands, placing your own on both sides of his face. “But that’s okay that you want to cuddle, to sleep on me, to be held. Really. There is nothing wrong with it. I’m really honored to be the person who is allowed to see your soft side.”

“I love you. Fuck, I love you so much, doll, you can’t even fucking imagine,” Bucky whispered before leaning forward to kiss you.

“I love you, James.”

“Can we stay here today? I don’t really want to talk with anyone besides my sweet and protective girl.” You couldn’t hold back your laughter at his teasing tone.

“Of course we can, Buck.” That was your last word before Bucky lifted you off the ground, put you on the soft blankets of your bed, and climbed on top of you, happily wrapping around your body and falling asleep.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction

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moonstruckme · 5 months ago

Note

Hi lovie a lil request: the first time Steve May be raises his voice or gets upset with reader? And just like angst with fluff

Thank you for your request (and for your patience)!

cw: near-miss car accident, it's lightly implied that reader has trauma (or maybe she's just jumpy and easily upset! who's to say)

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 748 words

“You can’t tell me you don’t know who this is.”

“I don’t!” Steve swears. “I’ve heard the song, I just don’t know who sings it.”

You shake your head, grinning. You’ve got one leg hiked up on the driver’s seat and Steve’s hand trapped beneath the other, his fingers spread on the fleshy underside of your thigh.

“This is Hall and Oates!”

When Steve doesn’t react however you think he should, you glance over. He raises his eyebrows. “Should I know who that is?”

You laugh. “Yes!” you insist. “How can you not know who they are?”

“Sounds more like a cereal than a band,” he says. “I don’t know what to tell you. I listen to songs on the radio, but I just don’t keep track of the names. I like this song, though.”

You smile at him sideways. “I feel like you could be a secret Hall and Oates fan.”

Steve gives your leg a squeeze. “It’d have to be a secret from me, too,” he says, “but I guess—hey, hey!” His voice rises sharply as he looks out his window. “Y/N!”

You jolt, swerving out of the lane you’d been changing into as the car in your blind spot honks. You set your other leg down, hands tightening on the steering wheel.

“Shit.” Steve lets out a breath. He realizes his grip on your leg has turned cruel in his panic, and he lets go. “Sorry. That was…shit, that was close.”

You make a small sound of agreement.

Steve breathes out again. He combs a hand through his hair, heart still going a mile a minute but starting to come down. “Y’okay?”

You don’t say anything. Steve looks over, hand finding your thigh again automatically. Your body is stiff in your seat, and your eyes are bright.

“Hey,” he says, surprised. Dread starts to take form in his gut. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s…it’s fine, why don’t we pull over? Pull over, baby.”

You do, biting your lip to keep your tears from spilling. It makes Steve’s chest ache. He’s seen you like this before, when there’s fighting or sharp voices or once when Robin opened a cabinet and three metal pots clattered out onto the floor, but never with him, never because of him.

“It’s okay,” he says again, once the car is in park. He tries to sound believable, making his voice soft and gentle. “Can I…do you want a hug?”

You nod. Steve reaches for you, then stops, his hands hovering by your waist. “You sure?” he checks.

“Yeah,” you rasp, and he goes all the way.

He knows you’ve cut yourself loose when you press your face to his shoulder and he feels a tiny wet spot seep into his shirt. Steve hugs you tight, leaning over the center console until it digs into his side painfully.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“No.” You draw in a wet breath. “It was my fault. I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have yelled. I was just—I just got scared.”

“I know,” you say back. You hold onto him. “I’m glad you yelled. It got my attention.”

Steve frowns, retreating enough to see your face. He brushes away a couple of tears, and your eyes go to the side like you’re embarrassed.

“I don’t ever want to scare you,” he says, earnestly.

You shake your head. “You don’t.”

He lowers his voice again. It’s nearly a whisper. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

“Don’t,” you insist. “I’m fine.”

Steve watches you carefully. “Yeah? You’re okay?” he asks. You nod, and he relaxes. “Okay. C’mere.”

You meet him across the console without reservation, returning his gentle kisses with your own. He does his best to soothe the bullied flesh of your bitten lip.

“Y’okay?” he asks again, just to be sure. You make a soft sound of confirmation. “You want me to drive the rest of the way?”

You pull back to look at him. A little bit of humor is back in your eyes. “Would that make you feel better?”

Steve grins, sheepish. “A little bit. Only because you’re upset.”

“Yeah,” you sigh heavily, and it’s a jokey thing, but the rest of the tension goes out of you with it. “That’s fine, we can switch.”

“Thanks.” Steve gives you another kiss, lingering for a moment before unbuckling his seatbelt. “It’ll be easier this way. You can tell me more about honey bunches of oats.”

“You know that’s not what they’re called.”

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lovebugism · 1 year ago

Note

hi! reader doesn’t like kids at all, but somehow eddie’s child is just different and the cutest sweetest child who warms their heart

✶ ┄ MAYDAY ! [ the beginning ]

summary: when steve harrington brings you as a plus-one to a munson birthday party, he forgets to tell you it's for eddie's four-year-old, maeve. (1.8k)

pairing: dad!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: strangers to lovers (eventually), slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love, meet ugly-ish, fluff, girl dad eddie munson™, r is not used to being around kids (and it shows), baby blurb turned spin-off universe <3

When Steve Harrington invites you to a birthday party, he fails to mention it’s for a four-year-old.

The tiny trailer is decked out in decoration. A fusion of black and rainbow, of bats and unicorns, of vampires and Tickle Me Elmo — like no one could land on a singular theme.

Steve guides you into the home with a golden hand on the small of your back, his other clutching a sparkly black bag with Count von Count’s face on it. You stop very suddenly in your tracks. Happy 4th Birthday, Maeve! reads a handpainted sign draped beneath the ceiling.

You become very hyperaware of the whiskey bottle in your right hand, something you figured would be the most sufficient thing to gift someone you’d never met before. You just hadn’t expected the stranger to be a child.

“What the fuck, Steve?” you bite under your breath, glaring at the boy beside you. “I thought you said this was your friend’s birthday party?”

“Maeve is my friend,” he answers with a stupid shrug. “Though, to be fair, I did say it was my friend’s kid’s birthday party.”

He most definitely hadn’t.

“What the hell— I brought booze!”

“That’s okay,” assures a wild-haired boy with a pretty pink grin as he walks up to the two of you. The friend in question.

Eddie Munson wears a silver ring on each finger and a thick leather jacket despite the warming spring season. His laughter sounds like sunshine. His smile is bright enough to give you a goddamn sunburn.

“Maeve’s been getting presents all day— It’s about time someone got somethin’ for me,” he jokes.

You grimace while the two boys laugh. “Sorry…” you murmur as you pass him the bottle, shrinking inside yourself in an attempt to hide from the moment. I’m never letting Steve convince me to leave the house again, you think to yourself.

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. Seriously. I’ll go stick this in the kitchen— Make yourself at home.”

Your racing heart quells only slightly. He must be more of a good guy than Steve made him out to be, if he’s willing to keep you around after you brought booze to his daughter’s party. Though, you’ll contend that you were only half at fault for this.

Steve bites back a chuckle as he walks you to the back door, standing with you on the little wooden deck lined with sparkly streamers. There’s a picnic table off in the distance, covered in a bat-patterned cloth and set with Sesame Street-themed utensils. A small crowd of teenagers gather around it, and a couple of their parents, you figure.

The spring breeze only half soothes your burning skin.

“See?” he lilts, trying not to laugh and failing. “He likes you already—”

You swat his chest with a less than kind hand.

“Ow!”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Harrington, I swear to—”

“What’s your favorite animal?” a tiny voice asks from behind you, a smidge too loud and confusing their R’s with W’s.

You look over your shoulder, face flooded with horror. A kid with wild chocolate hair stands at less than half your height, wearing the tiniest Ozzy Osbourne shirt you’ve ever seen beneath a rainbow tutu. You don’t know what to say, so you just blink at it for a moment — at her.

“Hey, Maeve,” Steve greets with a curt wave.

The girl beams, missing her very front tooth. “Hi, Uncle Steve!”

“Wha— Huh?” you stammer mindlessly. ‘Cause you’re not exactly the best at talking to people your own age, let alone to children. They’re too honest. And too loud. And beyond still feeling like a kid yourself most days, you don’t have anything in common with them.

“What’s your favorite animal?” Maeve repeats in the same inflection, smiling until a dimple appears in her freckled cheek. “Mine’s a Hefflelump.”

“Hef… Hefflelump?” you echo quietly, only vaguely registering Steve’s laughter as he disappears through the screeching screen door, leaving you all alone. You’re definitely killing him for this.

“Yeah… From Winne the Pooh!” she says like it’s obvious.

“Oh… Okay…”

“What’s yours?”

You stumble over your words to find an answer. “Um… Uh… I don’t— I don’t know…”

“Everyone has a favorite animal,” she scoffs like some kinda critic with a speech impediment. She tilts her chin to her chest and peers up at you with a pair of doe eyes, so brown they’re almost black. You shift your weight on your feet, visibly uncomfortable beneath her unwavering stare.

“Maybe like a… A blobfish, or something?” you shrug.

Her tiny face screws in disgust. “Gross,” she spits.

You flinch. “What? Why is that gross?” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest, more defensive than you’d like to admit.

“They’re so ugly,” Maeve giggles.

“Why?” you squint. “‘Cause they look differently than we do?”

“No!” she laughs, loud and golden, just like her father. “’S ‘cause they’re so slimy.”

“Well— You— You’re slimy,” you stammer.

The wild-haired girl grins with all her baby teeth (well, besides the front one, anyway). “You’re slimy!” she echoes with a mischievous twinkle in her chocolate eyes.

The screen door squeals open again, the rusted hinges screeching in protest. “Who’s slimy?” a male voice questions from behind you, a smile audible in his voice.

“You are!” you and Maeve chorus at the same time.

You whip your head around a second too late. Your heart drops to your ass when you find Eddie lingering in the doorway behind you. You stumble over your words while Maeve giggles. “Sorry! I thought— I thought you were Steve! I’m so sorry!”

A chuckle sputters from Eddie’s mouth. He’s nearly as grieved by it all as you are. “He just left,” he tells you with a lopsided smile, cocking his thumb over his shoulder. “I think he’s helping Wayne out front. They’re putting together Maeve’s d-o-l-l-h-o-u-s-e.”

His eyes flit upward as he tries hard to spell the word correctly. Upon your confused look, he says, “I can’t say it, or she’ll know what I’m talking about.”

“Right,” you nod.

Eddie crouches and holds his arms out for his daughter. Maeve’s tiny feet patter against the wooden deck as she rushes to him. He huffs at the weight of her — heavier than he remembers and getting bigger every day (which is weird ‘cause she was a newborn, like, a week ago). He grunts when he picks her up, propping her weight on his side.

“What were the two of you talkin’ about, then?”

“Blobfish!” she shouts with a beam.

Eddie breathes out a faint chuckle and turns to you. “She’s forcin’ you to pick a favorite animal, huh?” he wonders, then laughs a bit louder when you nod. “Yeah, she’s been doing that all day. It’s her new thing,” he says, nuzzling the tip of his nose into her curls.

Realization seems to him then, and his brows furrow when he looks at you. His face, all twisted in confusion, is an exact replica of Maeve’s.

“Wait— Your favorite animal is a blobfish?”

“That’s what I said!” the girl laughs.

You shift your weight on your feet and cross your arms over your chest. “I’m… feeling very judged in this moment…” you murmur under your breath, only half joking.

“I think that’s the most creative answer we’ve had yet, huh, Mae?” Eddie chuckles.

You scoff. “Well, I think Hefflelump’s pretty creative considering—”

The boy clears his throat, seeming to sense the rest of your sentence. His eyes widen in a lighthearted glare before he nods to the girl on his hip. Only then do you realize the words sitting on the tip of your tongue. You swallow them down immediately.

“Right…” you nod instead. “Nevermind…”

“Here—” Eddie huffs as he sets the girl down again. “—Go find Aunt Robin, alright? She’s probably decorating your cake as we speak.”

Maeve rushes off at the word cake, tottering on lanky, ungraceful legs. The two of you watch her go and linger in an awkward silence. Neither of you is quite sure how to make conversation without her there. You decide to start with an apology.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry, by the way. Again,” you laugh awkwardly at yourself, scratching at the back of your neck. “I’m not… I’m not really… great with kids. If you couldn’t already tell.”

Eddie grins, pink and lopsided and pretty. You don’t feel deserving of the warmth swimming in his button eyes, glimmering beneath an early setting sun. “It’s okay. Seriously. You should’ve seen Robin and Steve the first time they met her— they were hopeless. And now they’re… Sort of alright, I guess.”

You force a faint chuckle. “Yeah, I’m— I’m just not used to being around them, I guess. I don’t even think I’ve talked to a kid her age since, like, elementary school.”

“I was the same way. ’Til I had Maeve and all…”

“Well, I couldn’t tell,” you assure him with a wavering smile. “You’re, like, a total pro. You’re great with her.”

He ducks his head to hide his blushing cheeks. The apples of them speckle warm and pink beneath the weight of your compliment.

“Well… thank you,” he says, deflecting from your praise with that stupid, posh, D&D accent he always uses when he gets nervous. You don’t notice him grimacing at himself because you’re still stewing in your own embarrassment.

“And sorry for the booze, too. I seriously didn’t mean to bring— I mean, Steve didn’t even tell me that—”

“Stop apologizing,” Eddie chuckles warmly. “That part’s not your fault, alright? I don’t know if you know this or not, but your boyfriend’s a total idiot.”

Your face screws up. “Oh, he’s not— Steve’s not my boyfriend.”

The boy’s smile ebbs. “No?”

“No. No way!” you laugh before you mean to. “I’m pretty sure I’m just, like, his replacement best friend since Robin started dating Vickie.”

Wide-eyed and distantly relieved, Eddie stammers like a teenage boy. “Oh. Right. That’s… That’s cool. Yeah.”

“Yeah…” you echo.

“Well, uh— I’m gonna see if Wayne wants any help,” he blurts despite knowing he’s been barred from doing handy work since he nearly drove a nail through his own finger. He just needs a way out, lest he keep stumbling over himself and lose all of his cool points with you.

He saunters backward through the opened door and nearly trips over the frame.

You bite back a laugh. He forces a wavering smile.

“But, um, I was thinkin’ about cracking open that bottle you brought. You know, after Maeve’s in bed and everything. If you— If you wanna hang around that long…”

The silence makes him as nervous as a teenage boy, all writhing and uncomfy in his skin. You nod in agreement, and his sparkling chest swells all over again. “Yeah,” you reply, lip quirked in a poorly hidden smile. “Sure. I’d— I’d like that…”

He smiles, all proud of himself. “Good. That’s… That’s good,” he stutters, then swallows hard and scurries off before you change your mind.

Before he shuts the squealing screen door behind him, you hear Robin’s voice exclaim loudly from the kitchen. “What the hell’s a blobfish?!”

if u have any other ideas for hijinks these two idiots (and maeve) can get into, feel free to leave 'em here! (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #eddie and maeve

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louloulemons-posts · 2 years ago

Text

Drunk Snuggles

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Summary : Eddie gets a little drunk at a party and wants to cuddle his girlfriend.

Word Count : 1.7K

Warnings : mentions of alcohol, Eddie getting a little sad, it’s angsty for like a second, major fluff, fluffy Eds, none sexual nakedness, use of Y/N, pet names, not proof read.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Laughing as you spoke to Robin, you could feel the music thumping around the room. You were at a house party, it wasn’t something you did a lot but you felt like it.

“I think our peace is going to be disturbed,” Robin said, motioning to somewhere behind you. Turning you saw your other friend Steve Harrington, he looked flushed in his face.

When he reached you he spoke, “You need to come deal with your boy, he’s something else with booze in his system.”

“Where is he?” You asked.

“The garden, I left him on a lounger.”

You nodded and headed through the crowd of dancing bodies to get to the back door. It was much quieter out there, not many people. A few were smoking and others making out.

The curly haired boy lay on a lounger, staring up at the sky. An almost empty bottle of beer loosely hanging from his hand. Making your way to him you could only smile.

“Hey,” you spoke softly, to not make him jump. Hearing your voice he shot up, “Hey!” Attempting to stand and make his way to you, he cackled as he wobbly, nearly falling flat on his face.

You quickly grabbed him, ensuring that he stayed up right. “Careful Eds,” you said, holding him by the waist. Giving you a goofy grin, he sighed, “You’re so beautiful, where did you go?”

“Just talking to Robin babe, I did tell you.”

“Yeah but you were gone agessss,” he whined, lips falling into a pout. “20 minutes isn’t ages.”

“It is, my favourite girl left me for 20 whole minutes, that’s like … a million seconds!”

“A million?”

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“Well I’m back now.”

“Yeah,” he smiled again, hugging you tightly.

You hadn’t seen Eddie get drunk too many times, but on the few occasions you did, you noticed he became a lot more touchy than usual.

“Love you so much,” he slurred.

“I love you too.”

“Yeah?” He asked, pulling away to look at your face. “Yeah, I love you.” He laughed, shyly hiding his face, in your neck.

“What’s funny?” You asked.

“The prettiest girl in the whole of Hawkins .. in the whole world … the whole universe! Loves me, Eddie Munson. Who’d have thought,” he rambled on.

“How much have you had to drink pretty one?”

“Just a couple.”

“Mhm. Sure you did. Should’ve kept an eye on you.”

“I’m sorry, are you mad at me?” He asked, eyes almost teary when he looked at you.

“Oh no,” you said, softly stroking his face, “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“Mhm, I was. But then you left me! Then Steve said he’d find you, tell you to come and see me if I promised to stay on the lounger.”

“And here I am,” you smiled.

“Mhm! You found me!”

“Course I did, can’t lose my favourite boy can I?”

“I’m your favourite boy?” He asked, tilting his head like a puppy. “Yeah baby, you’re my favourite person.”

His face flushed at that, gosh he was so cute. “Could we maybe go home now though?” He asked.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah I just-” he mumbled something into your neck.

You laughed, “Pretty one I can’t hear you when you talk there, tell me what you said.”

“I wanna … go home and cuddle.”

“You wanna cuddle?”

“So bad,” he said softly, head resting on your shoulder.

“We can do that, let’s go say goodbye and then I’ll drive us home.”

“Home?”

“The trailer Eds.”

“It’s your home?”

“Wherever you are is my home Eddie.”

He looked like he was about to burst into tears, but instead he held the sides of your face and planted a kiss on your mouth. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too baby.”

You unwinded your arms from his waist and took his hand, “Lets go say bye then.” Walking back into the party you saw your friends.

They waved at you as you made your way over, a stumbling Eddie behind you. “Careful,” you said, to which he just laughed.

You hugged Nancy, Steve, Robin and Jonathan goodbye. Making sure they all had ways to get home safe, feeling Eddie almost tugging you towards the door.

“Good luck with him tonight Y/L/N,” Steve said. “Thanks Harrington, see you guys later.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

When you arrived at the car, you helped Eddie in as he had turned into bambi on ice. No idea how to control his long limbs. “Steady babe, mind your head,” you said, placing your hand on his curls and he got into your car.

He pulled his legs in and sighed as he leaned back against the leather seat. Leaning over to do his seatbelt, he pecked your cheek. Once. Twice. Three times.

“Comfy?” He nodded, you smiled. Shutting the door and climbing to your side, repeating the same actions as Eddie had done, you began your drive to Eddies.

The car was quiet, only the rumbling of the engine making a sound. Whilst you changed gears you felt another hand on yours, Eddie linking your fingers. “You okay?”

“Miss you.”

“Sweet boy I’m right here,” you chuckled.

“Not close enough.”

“Well we can be close and cuddle as soon as we get in and ready for bed okay?”

“Mhm. How longs it gonna take?”

“‘Bout 5 minutes Eds.”

Letting out an audible whine, you looked over at your boyfriend. “What?”

“Too long.”

“You’ll be okay. You’ve got my hand and we can talk.”

“What about?”

“Anything.”

He let out a sigh, thinking of something to say. “Can I ask a question?”

“Sure, go for it babe.”

“Why me?”

“Why you what?” You furrowed your brows, not understanding what he meant.

“Why would you want to be with me?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re kind, and funny, and a great friend. I love spending time with you. You make me happy, and laugh so much. You’re a beautiful souls Eddie.”

You heard him sniffle. Pulling into the trailer park, Eddie hadn’t spoke since your little speech. “Here we go Pretty one, we’re home.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Turning off the car and climbing out you walked round to help Eddie, finding him tearing up. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You asked, stroking his face.

“You just said … such nice things!” He cried out, “ so nice and I just love you and you love me and it’s just nice.”

“Oh baby, come on let’s get in. You need some cuddles huh?”

He nodded, rubbing his face and taking your hands to get out the car. Locking it, you walked into the trailer. Wayne was lay on the couch watching a show.

“Hey kids how was the party?” He asked.

“It was good we had fun,” you smiled at the older man. “Good I’m glad, have you eaten?” He questioned.

“Baby,” Eddie whined in your ear, arms wrapping around you from behind. “Yeah, there were snacks and stuff so we’re good. Thank you though.” He hummed at you.

“I assume he’s drunk a bit?” Nodding to Eddie. “Yeah, I’m gonna get him to bed.”

“Call if you need anything Sweetheart.”

“Will do. Say night Eds.”

“Night Pops.”

“Night Son, don’t give her any trouble.”

“Would never!”

You laughed, “Come on Pretty one let’s go to bed.”

“For cuddles?”

“Mhm cuddles, let’s go.” Eddie dragged you to his room, throwing the door open. Falling over his bed to turn on his lamp.

“Be careful!” You said, shutting the door behind you. “‘M okay.”

“Come on, let’s get changed.” You went to his draws grabbing some plaid pants, handing them to him.

Taking out one of his old shirts and some shorts for yourself, you went to him. “You want some help?” You asked.

“Please.”

“Okay Sweet Boy, shoes first, can you take your rings off for me?”

“‘Mkay.”

Undoing his laces and pulling his shoes from his feet, you placed them by his others, sliding off your own. “Done it,” he said, passing you his many rings, you placed them on the top of his dresser, yours once again being placed next to them.

“Okay jacket and shirt next,” you helped him get his arms out and his head out of his shirt, throwing them to the washing bin in his room. “Want a shirt? Or just bottoms?”

“Bottoms.”

“Okay pretty one, let’s get you out of your jeans then.”

You undid his belt as his hands didn’t want to listen to his head, along with the button and zipper. Sliding them off his legs, “Want to keep your underwear on?”

“No.”

“Can I do it?”

“Mhm. Never have to ask.”

“That’s sweet babe, but I do. Let’s get em off.” You’d seen Eddie naked plenty of times, not always in a sexual manor, well actually it was less sexual that it was sweet moments.

You’d shower together just because, washing each others hair sweetly, you’d lay together, bare just to be close. He liked skin on skin you’d learned. Comforted him.

“Can you put these on so I can get changed?” You asked.

“Mhm.” He quietly took the pants off you and began to slide his feet in. Sliding off you jacket and top you slid into his. Doing the same with your own jeans, getting into your shorts.

Placing them in the hamper, you opened another draw, pulling out some wipes. You cleaned your face off in front of the mirror. Looking in it you saw Eddie watching you, now in his pyjamas.

“Beautiful,” he said.

“Hm?”

“You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.” He flushed again, dropping onto the bed and chuckling into his hands. You couldn’t help but grin, wiping off any remaining mascara and threw the wipe into the trash.

“Come on then let’s cuddle.” Shuffling up the bed, you both climbed under the blanket. Turing off the light, Eddie rested his head on your chest, wild curls everywhere. “You want me to tie it up?” You asked.

“Can you play with it?” Sleep evident in his voice.

“Sure thing.” Fingers running through his curls, his arm wrapped around your face and he snuggled into your chest. “I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too Pretty, now get some sleep.”

“‘Mkay.”

Kissing the top of his head, he hummed, soon drifting off into dreamland. You following behind not far after, the sound of Wayne’s show playing quietly filling the darkness.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x yn #joe quinn #joe quinn imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #eddie x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #joseph quinn #fluff #oneshot #imagine #louloulemons

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morbidlcve · 5 days ago

Note

heloooo can u do a beefy!natasha x fem reader where nat is getting overprotective whenever R is just roaming around the compound wearing nothing but an oversized shirt.. fluff with smut? hehe thank uu!!!

- 🤸🏻

ps: thank you for writing nat fics!!! pls do moree and goodluck on your studiess

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ shirt

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ wc: 0.8k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ pairings: beefy!natasha romanoff x reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ content: fingering, nipple play, kitchen sex, pet names, marking, if there's any more please let me know!!

requests are open!!

Natasha walks into the kitchen, finding you in one of her oversized shirts that barely covers your thighs. She watches hungrily as you bend over to grab something from the oven, her protective instincts kicking in. “Hey baby.” She walks up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist. “I like those thighs in my shirt.” She presses a kiss to your neck, her hands squeezing your hips possessively. “You look fucking delicious like this... I like when you walk around the house wearing just my shirt.” You blush looking at her shirt drowning your body. Her hands slowly slide up your thighs. “But I have a problem with it too.”

“You see, every fucking Avenger walks around here. What if Bucky gets hard looking at your legs? Or Steve gets ideas watching your ass swing in my shirt?” Her hands squeeze your ass cheeks through the shirt. “I don't like sharing what's mine.” She presses a kiss behind your ear. “Come here.” She says turning you around to face her, her hands moving to your bottom as she lifts you up onto the kitchen counter. She steps between your legs, pushing them apart so she can stand there possessively. “See? Now no one gets a free show of my girlfriend's ass.” She smirks, fucking smirks.

“Tasha, they already know I'm yours.” you smile, wrapping your arms around her neck. “Still, I like you like this... Trapped between my legs, wearing my shirt, giving me easy access.” She presses kisses down your neck and collarbone, her hands squeezing your breasts through the shirt. “I'm gonna fuck you right here on this counter, baby. Hard and fast like I like it.”

“Natasha Romanoff, someone could walk in at any minute… your sister could walk in at any minute” you gasp as she pinches your nipples. She grabs your hair firmly, pulling your head forward slightly to whisper in your ear. “Then you better be quiet, sweetheart.” Her hand moves under your shirt. “Show me that pretty pussy baby.” She groans, you’re not wearing any underwear. “Such a little slut aren’t you, anyone could’ve seen you bent over, seen how wet you are” she grunts, gliding her hand down your body to push her fingers through your folds. Your hips buck when she catches your clit. Smirking, she leans forward taking one of your nipples into your mouth. “God Nat!” you sigh, gripping her hair, holding her close to you.

She licks and sucks at your nipple, pulling away slightly, leaving a trail of saliva behind her. She kisses you roughly, her tongue pressing into your mouth. Her wet muscle working in tandem with yours. “Fuck, you’re so sexy baby.” she says coming back to your chest, attaching her mouth to your other nipple.

Your head throws back when she pushes her finger into you. “God, you drive me crazy” she says pressing her lips to your neck, sucking a bruise into your flesh. She’s all over you, curling her fingers just right that has your back arching, pressing yourself further against her. “You’re wearing too many clothes” you gasp, trying to take off her jacket. She chuckles at your feeble attempt, prying your hands away and shrugs it off and takes off her shirt. You’re quick to press your lips to her chest, sucking and licking at her nipples and the sensitive areas of her throat. “Fuck baby.” She sighs, pressing her body protectively over you.

You clench around her fingers at the thought of the sight of you two, mainly just Natasha though. You just know that if you were to be watching right now, the muscles of her back would be flexing as she works her fingers in your pussy. “Feels so good Nat,” You cry out, teeth scraping her neck. “I know baby,” She sighs.

She starts to increase her pace, pressing her thumb to your clit for added stimulation. “Fuck!” you cry out. She grunts watching you with your head thrown back, back arched- all for her. She’s quick to press her lips to yours, devouring the sweet sounds you’re making for her. “That’s it baby, fuck yourself on my fingers.” She pants into your mouth, utterly transfixed by you. Your body starts to move on its own accord, your hips bucking to get her deeper within you. You cry out when she grazes that sweet spot within you. “Yeah? You like that?” she smirks, repeating the motion. You feel your high quickly approaching, your muscles rippling with pleasure.

The buzz within you shatters when she licks the length of your neck and sucks harshly, marking you. She watches you with a smirk of satisfaction on her face, the only words spilling from your lips being her name and choruses of ‘yes’. She keeps going until your orgasm subsides. Slightly shaking, she pulls her fingers out of you. You gasp at the slight sensitivity. Natahsa brings her fingers to her mouth, tasting you, groaning. “You are definitely getting some, let’s go” You sigh giggling at her rampant attempt to put her shirt back on.

#m:works #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanov #wlw #m’s replies

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loveu2themoonandsaturn · 1 month ago

Text

“SLUT!”

loosely inspired by the taylor swift song.

steve harrington x fem!reader

a/n: tried to get the word count but I fear I lost track at 3k and that was maybe only the halfway point 😭 also sorry for the potentially shit formatting, I’ve never done this before and I typed the whole thing in the tumblr app. hope it doesn’t ruin the reading experience 😅 all credit for dividers goes to @strangergraphics!

angst, hurt/comfort, fluff(ish), no use of y/n, second person, office gossip, way past upside down but hawkins is still that same small town, very 80s/90s attitude toward sex, slutshaming, sort of miscommunication trope (more like meddling jackass trope) minor injury (no blood), reader is mentioned as having meat in her freezer and consumes dairy once, only kinda beta’d because every time I try I just end up ADDING THINGS, smut 18+ MDNI, filthier tags below.

contains: porn with an unreasonable amount of plot, protected piv fucking (girls we cannot afford children in this economy, wrap it before you tap it), soft pleasure dom!Steve, needy Steve who may or may not be real big on talking you through it, oral (m+f), fingering, some ball sucking, intimacy, love confessions (i’m sorry😭), eye contact, hickies like a motherfucker, no body type mentioned, no hair type or length mentioned, y’all prolly know most of the drill.

hope you enjoy! 🩵

Steve swore he felt his soul leave this side of heaven when he felt a fist slam against the front desk of the Family Video, right next to where his head so happened to be resting, wrapped up in his own arms. Whoever just did that was about to hear a piece of his mind.

“Hey man, what the hell- oh. Hey,” He relaxes for a moment when he sees that it’s you, but only for just that moment.

Because then he sees your face.

Hot, angry tears are streaming stoically down your face from a pair of red, puffy eyes. He panics at the expression that paints the face he so adores.

His immediate instinct is to fix it.

“Baby, what’s wro—”

“Don’t you fucking call me baby right now,” you cut him off. Your voice is cold, almost devoid of emotion. It worries Steve. “Why would you say those things about me, why would you lie?”

Steve’s head is spinning now. Lies? Talking about you? Was he still asleep, dreaming? Had he accidentally shifted into another dimension? Hell, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, slow down—”

You scoff. “I don’t believe that for a second. I believed you when you said you’d changed, that you weren’t that same douchebag we all knew back in high school,” you pause, throat catching on the lump nestled deep within it. “But I was wrong about that. I won’t make that mistake twice.”

Steve felt his heart shattering, and he didn’t even know why, didn’t understand what on earth was going on.

“Wait, no, I’m serious, I don’t know what we’re talking about here, please!” He’s desperate now, needs to know what he did, what transgression he forgot that he must now atone for.

“You expect me to believe you don’t know what your good friend Tommy got up to this morning?”

Tommy? Tommy Hagan? Steve hadn’t so much as spoken to that toxic jackass in years, what could he possibly have to do with anything-

“Because I walked into work today and was greeted by him, in front of all my coworkers, announcing that he had a gift for the new town whore,” you choke out, voice no longer cold, but bitter. Angry. Sad. “And he handed me what must have been the deadest, most rotten bouquet of flowers left from the supermarket, with a card. ‘To the SLUT, courtesy of King Steve,’” you say, voice raised enough to catch the attention of several now-nosy movie perusers.

Steve stands slack-jawed, floored at the mere thought. He wasn’t even sure how Tommy knew he was seeing you, let alone what he could have done to give him the impression that you had slept with him.

Unfortunately for Steve, you don’t take his silence for the shock that it is.

“Nothing to say for yourself? My reputation is in shreds, my boss won’t look me in the eye and my coworkers haven’t stopped whispering since 9 a.m., yet you have nothing to say for yourself?” you spit, incredulous.

Steve’s brain finally gets with the program and makes his mouth move.

“Honey, I didn’t know anything about this,” he pauses when you roll your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “I haven’t talked to Tommy since high school. I have changed, I’m not the person that I used to be, and even if I was still friends with Hagan’s sorry ass, I would never, ever lie about you like that. I like you. I care about you. I would never put that in jeopardy.”

Steve’s eyes are pleading, which you might notice if you could even bring yourself to meet them.

“God, Steve, please don’t treat me like I’m stupid-”

“I’m not, I’m not!,” he cuts you off. “I swear, I don’t know how he got that idea into his head, but I would never do that to you!” Steve is fighting the urge to raise his voice. You deserve his gentleness, even during a fight, he thinks. That gentleness is clearly not mutual, though, at least not right now.

“Is it because I said I wasn’t ready?” you say, voice at a low volume.

Steve feels his heart thud restlessly in his chest, hurt and pain lashing at the muscle.

“Wh… What?” He’s giving you an opportunity to back out, clarify, say you don’t mean what he thinks you mean. But you double down.

“Is Tommy doing this out of some weird bro-code respect for you because I said I wasn’t ready to have sex with you.” You ask it like it’s a statement, a sure thing, no real questioning to your tone.

He’s hit with a wave of this sick feeling in his stomach, this inescapable dread at the thought that you might believe even for a second that he would stoop that low. He swallows, a thick feeling as a lump in his own throat starts to make itself known.

“You really think that poorly of me?” he mutters out, pained.

You shake your head, tears falling faster now.

“I didn’t Steve. All my friends told me I was being stupid, too trusting of you, giving you too much benefit of the doubt, and I…” you prick your finger into your own chest, bone meeting bone as the digit presses into your sternum. “I told them they were crazy. That they were stuck in the past and that you were so different now. I defended you.” You let out a mirthless chuckle. “And look where that got me. Do you know what half the town will think by this time tomorrow? They’re gonna that I spread my legs for the first man to show interest in me, for the man who has a well-documented history of taking what he wants and leaving, and they’re going to think I’m pathetic and easy for it.” He’s never seen you like this. It’s agony.

“In a way… the truth is almost worse. Because I was stupid enough to let ‘King Steve’ come and pretend to be all sweet and gentlemanly and brand-spanking-new. I guess the punishment fits the crime, right? I believed you, and now nobody is gonna believe me.” You start to turn on your heel, halfway ready to walk out the door.

“Wait, wait!” Steve is frantic now. “I don’t know how this happened, but please, give me a chance, let me fix this for you,” he begs.

You squeeze your eyes shut, hands finally coming up to wipe away some tears so you can at least leave with some dignity.

“I don’t think this is something you can fix.”

And with that, the best thing in Steve’s life walks out the door.

Hurt doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels. But it’s quickly replaced by rage, blinding anger that someone would do this to you. More anger yet that Tommy-fucking-Hagan of all people would crawl out of whatever hole he’s been living in to, to what? Ruin his chance at happiness with you since Carol dumped him the second she went away for college? Hurt you just for being associated with Steve and a better future, not his past? What the hell is this?

He’s dialing Robin’s number before he can even think straight, asking if she can do him a favor and stay the last hour at the store, close up. He mindlessly agrees to whatever condition it is she sets; he’s hardly paying attention, because now? Now he has business to attend to.

The night is young, and Steve knew he’d luck out eventually by just going from filthy dive bar to filthy dive bar. After all, there were only so many places in Hawkins where a burnout could go to delude himself into thinking he’s not there to drown his sorrows.

It’s at the fifth one that he lays eyes on Tommy, looking worse for wear. He’s surrounded by a couple other guys that walk and talk and dress like Steve used to in high school, Tommy’s obvious attempt at replacing him. He almost wonders if he’ll find a pseudo-Carol somewhere in the crowd, waiting to dote on him.

Steve overhears Tommy talking, who clearly does not know he’s even been found and is being watched.

“I mean, you guys should have seen the look on her face. Harrington’s girl was basically a puddle, I guess she knew she got caught. You know what they say, though boys—”

“Yeah? What is it they say, Tommy?” Steve’s sudden interruption brings a mix of shock and satisfied jeers among the little crowd. Tommy turns whistles, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction.

“Well look what the cat dragged in! Big King Steve back from his latest conquest. What’s wrong, your girl can’t handle the consequences of her own actions?”

Steve’s jaw gets tight at that; he’s trying damn hard to maintain some semblance of control. All he can think about is how bad he wants to punch that smirk off Tommy’s face.

“And just what do you think you know about her, huh Hagan? Or did that half semester of college give you time to get into shitty creative writing?” Steve grits out.

“Oh, please Harrington, don’t act like half the town didn’t see you two heading into your place this weekend. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together,” Tommy says, cocky as ever.

A moment of realization hits Steve then. He had brought you to his house, at night, and you two were alone. He’d let you sleep in the guest room when it got too late. It never even occurred to him that someone was watching, let alone would assume something went down between the two of you and spread that assumption around.

He feels like such a fucking idiot.

He knows this town, knows these people. They love nothing more than a scandal. Something to gossip about. He should have been more careful with you. His own anger with himself turns into rage at the sorry excuse for a man now standing before him.

“You’re such goddamn dumbass, Hagan. She’s not a whore, a slut, an anything. She slept in the guest bedroom, and she only spent the night in the first place because I said it was too late to drive her home.”

Tommy and his gaggle of trust fund babies, one of whom surely paid for the flattening beer he takes a swig from, all elbow each other, exchanging knowing glances.

But they don’t know shit, Steve thinks.

“Listen, Harrington, it’s cute that you want to ‘defend her honor,’” Tommy mocks, “But at the end of the day, nobody in this town was born yesterday. I’m sorry her feelings got hurt just because people noticed how easy she is, but that’s how it i- what the fuck dude??”

Tommy is cut off quickly and finds the edge of the bar jamming into his spine, with Steve Harrington having rushed in and wrapped his fists into Tommy’s shirt collars.

“She is anything but easy, you son of a bitch,” Steve seethes, pushing Tommy back again for emphasis. “Six months we’ve been dating, and I haven’t touched her. You know why that is? Because I actually give two shits about her, I have respect for her, something you’re not capable of doing or having for anybody.”

Tommy is thrown off guard, but quickly recovers, slapping that smirk right back on his face. Steve decides then and there that he hates that smirk.

“Listen buddy. We all remember your track record when it comes to anything that involves fists,” Tommy sneers. “Unless you wanna get your ass handed to you, I suggest letting me go. It’s not like anyone would believe she’s the choir girl you want us to think she is.”

Steve laughs, the sound dark. He laughs, and that confuses the hell out of Tommy and his crew.

“Maybe you peaked in high school and forgot that other people grow past who they were at 18, but the rest of us didn’t. So if I were you? I’d get to work fixing this shit, unless you want to have to fix your goddamn teeth, buddy,” Steve says, his threat only cushioned slightly by his sarcastic remark.

“Like hell I will,” Tommy yells before shoving Steve off. He swings, and color quickly blooms across the apple of Steve’s left cheek. “Now get the fuck out of h-”

Tommy doesn’t get to finish. Or do much of anything, really.

With one solid, square hit to the chin, Steve lays Tommy out, leaving him with nothing more than a sure concussion and a nice sticky spot on the bar floor to come to on.

Tommy’s herd of friends stand in stunned silence, a strong juxtaposition from their earlier mindless chittering. It’s satisfying, if Steve is honest with himself.

Steve steps closer to them, causing a few of them to back off, clearly not wanting to be next.

“When he wakes up, you tell your little friend here to fix the mess he made, and that if I so much as have to hear someone utter his name again for the rest of my life, I’m coming back and beating his ass, and next time I won’t stop once he’s on the ground. Oh, and make sure he leaves me and my girl alone, yeah?”

Something about Steve’s energy is enough to have them nodding, no questions asked.

Steve storms out of the bar, only one mission left for the day.

You’re home in your apartment, taking your feelings out on a bowl of ice cream and watching Pretty in Pink for what must be the ninth time, when you hear knocking at your door.

You find yourself wondering who the hell would be knocking at this hour, only irked at the possibilities running through your head.

You’re already yelling through to the person on the other side as you make your way to the door.

“I don’t want to buy whatever you’re selling and I already know Jesu- Oh.”

You swing open the door to find none other than Steve Harrington, looking a lot more bruised than the last time you saw him.

Both of his eyes look apologetic, pitiful, and the quickly forming mark beneath his left one certainly isn’t helping your resolve.

You have the urge to kick him to the curb, but find that, in spite of what you believe he did, you didn’t leave your feelings for him at the doors of the Family Video when your hightailed it out of there earlier that day.

So that’s how you get here, with Steve sitting on your kitchen counter, right fist squishing into a bag of frozen peas, left hand pressing a freezer-burnt steak into the respective cheek. Your movie is forgotten, frozen in time, and what remained of the ice cream has been left to melt.

You’re silent, plaid pajama pants and your softest T-shirt hanging on to your form, only shielded somewhat by the fuzzy robe that sits open, mostly just draped around your shoulders. As you lean against your fridge, you take a long sip from your mug, warm liquid soothing as you fight to break the silence, the tension that seems to suffocate the room.

You don’t ask where those bruises came from. Curious as you are, you find you’re not sure if you really want to know. However, you’re not left to wonder for long.

“I’m pretty sure I put Tommy Hagan in the emergency room tonight.”

Your eyes nearly fall out of your head with how wide they get, head snapping up when he says that.

“I, um, got real pissed when you told me what he did to you, and I went from bar to bar until I found him. I told him to fix it, and he acted like it was some big joke, and I was just seeing red, but in my defense, he hit me first,” he rambles, gesturing vaguely to the slowly thawing slab of meat currently taking up half the real estate on his face.

You continue to stare at him, bug-eyed and unmoving. Steve finds himself unable to stop talking under your gaze.

“He said he or, someone, I guess, saw you come into my house the other night and never leave and so they like? Assumed the rest, and I’m sorry, because I definitely should have thought about how it might look before offering you the guest bed, or I should have taken you home, or I should have slept on the goddamn sidewalk so it was incredibly clear nothing was going on but I didn’t so I told him, or I guess I told his friends to pass along the message, to fix it and he was just out cold on the floor of the bar and I-”

“Steve.”

He finally stops, looking at you. He sees tears welling up in your eyes and immediately assumes it was something he said. He starts to apologize, but you hold up a hand, shaking your head.

“I just can’t believe you would do that for me,” you mutter, at a loss for words.

Steve, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, says, “I mean, of course. You’re my girl and someone was mean to you. I’m crazy about you, why would I let anyone hurt you just to take you away from me?” He cocks his head when he asks, eyes innocent. “And I mean, it doesn’t hurt that Tommy is the biggest jackass in all of Indiana and has been earning that knockout since we were like, 16,” he laughs out.

For a moment, the cognitive dissonance is winning out. You’d fought with yourself all day about the kind of person Steve Harrington is. Who, until very recently, he always was. All day, you’d let the voices of high school friends permeate your head, losing trust in your gut, in your own instincts, in what you thought and believed. You had yourself convinced that you’d allowed yourself to be blinded, had just wanted the attention, the affection, and that Steve had never ever changed, just got better at hiding it. But maybe the truth wasn’t so simple.

A tear falls. In assuming he had broken your trust, had you broken his?

You know it’s not your fault. Not really. That blame belongs squarely on the shoulders of a loser who’s going to have to explain to a less-than-nice nurse just why he came through the doors of the emergency room with a concussed head and a dislocated jaw.

But you fell for it. A few mean looks, some workplace gossips whispering in the break room, and you fell right into Tommy’s trap. Hook, line, sinker.

What was it that made you so easily believe the worst of the man who has, throughout your relationship, shown you nothing but affection and kindness?

Guilt gnaws at you, because you think you know.

“I’m so sorry for not believing you. And for all the things I said earlier. I was… I was cruel. I was mean and defensive and let some pseudo-high school drama put me right back in that place mentally, put you right back to who you were in my mind, and that was unfair. I was punishing you for your past, and you didn’t deserve that,” you say, looking over at Steve now.

But Steve is having none of it.

“I spent years being the worst version of myself to everyone around me whose pants I wasn’t trying to get into. I was vindictive and, sometimes? Flat out evil toward people who weren’t high enough up on the social ladder for me. If I had been in your position, I would have thought the same thing, because I have thoroughly earned that reputation. I don’t expect you to get rid of that past version of me in your head. I know you can’t just forget. You’re only human.”

He slides off the counter, frozen goods abandoned as he crosses over to you where you lean and looks you in your eyes.

“It’s my job to make up for it. To prove I’ve changed. That’s not trust that forms easily, it’s hard earned, and I intend to do everything I can to win it fair and square. To earn the right to be yours.”

You feel heat burn behind your cheeks at his sweet words. “So does that mean you forgive me for being a real bitch to you in front of customers today?”

Steve laughs, the sound jovial and refreshing after the day you’ve had.

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing to forgive, but how ‘bout I say all is forgiven if you can forgive me for being a huge dumbass?” His lopsided grin and the way he’s looking at you, all heart eyes and pure adoration… all of it is too much, too good, and all you can do is nod, a small, hopeful smile on your face.

“Good. Now, would’ya c’mere and let me comfort you? Let me take care of my girl after the shitty day she had?” He holds his arms open to you, hands waving you in.

You roll your eyes just a bit before giving in, immediately accepting the familiarity and warmth of your boyfriend’s arms. You’re so glad he’s still your boyfriend.

He kisses the top of your head and lets your face press into his chest, allowing his own heartbeat to soothe you as he holds one arm firmly around your waist, letting the other rub a flat palm up and down your back.

“Sweet girl, you didn’t deserve how they treated you today…” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear. “Only deserve good things… gonna give you all the good things to make up for it, yeah?”

The sheer relief you feel being here, with him uttering sweet nothings into your ear and treating you like the you’re the only thing that matters in the whole wide world, it makes up for it all, you think. Maybe tomorrow will be hard, maybe people at work will still suck, but you won’t be facing it alone. You’ll have Steve. That feels like enough.

You let yourself peek out from where you’d tucked yourself in so you can look up at this wonderful man who did so much today to prove that he’s not who everyone thinks he is. He looks back down at you and just smiles, staring into your eyes.

It may have been less than a day.

But, God, you had missed him.

So you indulge yourself, removing one of the arms from around his body and placing a hand far back on his neck, just enough to be able to run your fingers softly through the short pieces at the base, brushing your thumb along his jawline.

His smile falters for just half a second, replaced by the shivers you give him.

Encouraged by his reaction, you don’t hold back, using your hand as leverage to drag his face into yours for a sweet kiss. Your lips lock, and neither one of you moves away or lets go until the need for oxygen wins out. It’s stupid and sappy and exactly what you needed.

When you do finally have to let go, you’re both breathing hard, but Steve still finds it in him to make a suggestion.

“I think I left some sweats and a T-shirt here back when I helped you move in that new couch,” he gestures to the spot where you had just been wallowing, “How ‘bout I change and we get comfortable on the couch and you tell me every thought on that pretty little mind?”

You two do exactly that. He’s pleasantly surprised to find you’d laundered the very clothes he’d left over, something you shyly justified with the possibility that he might get stuck and need to spend the night, a concept which clearly flustered you to no end.

So there you are, curled up in Steve’s arms, same paused movie frame still on the TV, and you just rant about your day.

“…And if all of that wasn’t enough, she had the nerve to whisper one last snickering ‘whore’ to me on my way out! I don’t know where she gets off, especially since it was just last month that everyone heard she got caught sneaking out of the supply closet with the assistant manager!” Steve chuckles at that, “But it just sucked! I don’t mind being the center of attention, but good grief, not like this! These people are like vultures! It made me sad and mad and just a bunch of other things and it was ridiculous because it was all for something I didn’t even do!” you finish, Steve pressing comforting kisses into your temple.

“That’s just not right, honey. I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he says.

You lean into his chaste kisses, hands playing with his fingers where they sit clasped in your lap.

“I just… it’s ridiculous. I mean, half the reason I told you I wasn’t ready for sex was because I was so anxious, so terrified that somehow people would know and then they would judge me for it,” you shake your head. “And I know, that’s like bullshit, but it’s where my head was at. Today though? All I could think to myself all day was, I wish I would have just done it. I didn’t do anything and they still talked all their shit. If I’m going to be called a slut, a whore, easy, I should at least have gotten something out of it. Give ‘em something real to talk about, make the their bullshit worthwhile,” you muse. “Maybe I still should.”

You’re so lost in those musings that you barely notice the way Steve is staring at you, wondering if he’s had a stroke.

“What do you mean?” he says, certain he’s misheard.

He definitely knows what you mean. Being called on it, however, has you almost backtracking, your face so hot now he would surely get burned if he touched it.

You don’t look him in the eye, instead appearing very focused on each individual finger on his hands as they sit in your lap. You’re unfortunately noticing that he takes very good care of his nails, keeping them short and clean, perfect for— Stop that, you chide yourself, finally responding to your boyfriend, who is maybe having an aneurism behind you.

“I mean, just… it’s so stupid, the only reason I didn’t do something that I really wanted to do was because I was worried what people would say about me. That all seems pretty moot now so, I dunno… maybe we should… do it… sometime,” you mumble out, not sure if you’re embarrassed more by your seriously weird concerns about the opinions of others or the fact that you’re all but asking Steve to have sex with you.

Steve is not thinking about either option, though, being ever the opportunist.

“I would take you right now.”

Maybe you’re the one having that stroke?

You whip your head around and look at him, that same hungry look, the one he always gets when the two of you make out for just a liiiiiiittle bit too long, now gracing his face.

You whisper out, “Are you serious?”

He nearly scoffs at that. “I don’t play games when it comes to you,” a phrase that has a more than one meaning after his bar-side activities this evening, “I’ll always wait for your yes, and I’ll always stop at your no but… for that time in between? I’m making love to you like it’s my last day on earth.”

Your breath hitches, something deep within you warming and stirring at his words.

“Can I tell you something, Steve?”

“Always, gorgeous.”

You gulp.

“You’ve got my yes.”

Suddenly, you’ve been moved. You’re laying on your back on your couch and your very gorgeous boyfriend has one leg between your thighs, holding your face between both hands as his spine arches over your body and leans his face toward your face so he can kiss the air right out of your lungs.

You two had made out before but compared to this? Jesus H.

You hear the sound of your own soft whine as he readjusts and the movement presses his strong thigh firmly against your core. You watch as he breaks the kiss just to groan, already so satisfied, so intoxicated by you.

“That’s right pretty girl, just let yourself feel good, I’m gonna take care of everything, gonna take real good care of you,” he rambles, eyes squeezed shut as he nods at nobody in particular.

“You want that, baby? You gonna let me make you feel like you deserve?” He forces his eyes open to stare at you. Good God. You nod, another desperate sound that could maybe pass for a “Yes” pressing its way out of your chest.

“Atta girl,” he says before tearing his own shirt off, the garment landing somewhere on your living room floor.

He pushes his fingers beneath the fabric of the robe you’re still wearing, slowly slipping it off of you, saying, “Now anything you don’t want me to do, anything you want me to stop, you let me know, yeah? Let me hear you, baby.”

The robe is quickly abandoned beneath you as you all but blubber out a “Yeah, yes, Steve, I will.”

He stands up, leaving you confused for a moment.

“I’m not doing this with you for the first time on your couch. C’mon, sweet thing, up,” he says, reaching for your hands.

You take his and let him lead you to your own bedroom, shutting the door behind the two of you despite your living alone. In a way, it’s perfect, isolated in a way that makes you feel like it’s just you and him.

He turns to you, walking up to your form and kissing you again, his hands reclaiming their space on the sides of your face. You’re sure you’ll never get tired of that feeling.

His kisses last long, but almost not enough, his lips moving down to your jaw, your neck, searching for that spot that makes you—

“Oh, fuck, Steve.”

Found it.

He hones in on the spot, kissing and licking at it gently. His aim isn’t to leave a mark — not here, anyway — but just to make you feel good.

By the way you’re panting in his ear? He’s pretty sure he’s succeeding.

He walks you backwards, careful, only detaching himself from your neck to help lay you down gently. He crawls over top of you, his body caging yours.

Your shirt has ridden up, revealing a touch of midriff to Steve. It only makes him more feral.

He plays with the hem of your shirt, warm fingers brushing against the skin below.

“Can I take this off for you?” he asks.

You’re nodding, already moving to help him strip the fabric from your form. You weren’t wearing a bra because, truly, why would you be wearing one in your own home, so his eyes are free to land right on your chest and watch the soft jiggling as you breathe in and out.

You had worried that he might pick out spots on your body that made you insecure, but that worry flies out the window when you see that same hungry look back in his eyes.

Frankly, he looks so desperate, you almost feel bad.

“It’s okay, Steve, do what you want. I’ll tell you to stop if I don’t like it,” you say, encouraging him.

You truly do not have to tell him twice.

First he’s kissing that spot on your neck again, earning a breathy sigh and a pleased smile from your lips. Then he travels, lips attaching to your collarbone, and you feel it as he kisses his way down to your breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth, thumb rubbing over the other one as his tongue works at this one.

That earns a good bit more than a sigh.

“Holy shit, Steve… that feels so, ah,” your voice grows pitchy as you bite back your moans. Your refusal to let him hear you doesn’t bother him one bit. It just means he has to work harder to pull those pretty sounds from you.

He switches his lips to your other breast, mouth laving messily over this nipple as his other thumb slips and slides across the one he just left.

You already feel so good, but you know he’s just getting started. The thought makes you shiver.

Once he’s satisfied with the attention he’s given to your nipples, he expands his journey across the map of your skin and starts sucking at the underside of your breasts, leaving marks only you and he will ever get to see. Whichever breast he’s not busy leaving darkening splotches on is being squeezed and squished, only adding to the feelings that all seem to be directed right at your quickly-soaking cunt.

Having left you littered with marks, some even landing on your torso and the soft skin of your belly, Steve looks up at you, lips swollen and wet from his hard work.

“Please say I can go down on you,” he sighs out, sounding like he’s in another world.

You balk at that for a moment, worried.

“You don’t have to Steve, I know guys don’t really like-”

“I want to. So, so fucking bad. I want to make you feel good and I need to taste you or I might actually explode. I don’t care how you keep it or what it looks like, I just, fuck!” His voice is pleading, his desire bleeding through every syllable.

He takes his kisses down to your hips, pushing your sweatpants and panties down just a touch to reveal more of your entirely-too-kissable body. He’s sucking at the thin skin there, leaving his mark on yet another inch of you.

“Please baby, if you want it, please let me,” he whines out, an incredibly sweet and needy sound.

Well shit. Who are you to say no to that?

“Okay, yeah, yes, you can, Steve,” you rush out, turned on beyond belief.

“God, yes, that’s my girl,” he mutters out, not even pausing to consider the effect those words are having on you.

You’d find it inconsiderate if it didn’t make you want him so much more.

His fingers are quick to hook back into both your bottoms, tapping the side of your hip so you’ll lift them as he all but tears the clothing from your legs. He easily spreads your now-bare limbs, eyes laser-focused on the absolutely sopping wet pussy that he unveils.

“Holy shit… is this all because of me?” he questions, experimentally sliding a finger through your folds, gathering your slick.

You laugh, breathless. “Have we been in the same room this whole time? I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on in my life.”

His dick has been hard for a hot minute now, so that confession earns an almost painful twitch.

He can’t find it in himself to ask any more questions, just sliding your pretty thighs over his shoulder, kissing them as he makes his way down to where you need him most.

The first lick is thorough, but gentle. A trembling whimper leaves your lips, then the sound of his name.

He finds himself moaning at your taste, desperation to drink you in winning out.

He presses his tongue right into your waiting hole, occasional moans against you earning him yet another flood of your juices to taste, a tantalizing squeeze of your walls around him only complimenting the flavor.

He moves to lap at your folds, greedy, head only coming to a stop once he’s got the flat of his tongue rubbing circles over your clit. You finally lose the battle you’d been fighting, letting out a moan that makes you thankful your last next door neighbor just moved out last week.

Steve, cheeky as ever, smiles at this, hot breath from a laugh billowing past his tongue and onto you. He’s almost too good at this.

He gives thick, teasing licks to your clit, each one serving as punctuation as he talks to you.

“Best fucking pussy… Fuck… could eat this pretty pussy… mm… for the rest of my life… so good,” he murmurs, absolutely drunk on you.

“Steve…” you whine out, needing him so badly it nearly hurts.

“Oh, darlin’, I know,” Lick. “I know, pretty girl,” Lick. “Just need’ya,” Lick. “To be patient for me,” Lick. “Doing so good,” Lick. “Making me so proud.”

He picks right then to properly dive in, licking and sucking on you until you can hear your own heartbeat, feel it in your throat. The sounds you make for him are downright debauched, curses and expletives floating in between the sound of his name. He couldn’t be happier.

You’ve been clenching around nothing for some time now as been pleasuring you, though, and that doesn’t sit right with him.

So, before you know it, Steve is working one, then two fingers into your dripping heat, reaching farther inside of you than you ever could. Your hands quickly seat themselves among the roots of his hair, holding his head exactly where you want him.

Your cries ring out freely through the air, a weak, “I’m so close,” the only interruption. Your thighs have begun to squeeze around Steve’s head. He’s not sure if you’re trying to keep him there forever or shut him out but, it’s all the same to him. He’d happily wear you like a pair of earmuffs for the rest of the night. Best damn pair he ever owned, if he did say so himself.

He holds steady with his actions, moving his fingers just so inside you, repeating the same motion of his tongue against your clit until it hurts, but he’s well rewarded for his efforts.

“Oh, fuck, Steve, I think I’m… fuck, I’m gonna—” you’re forced to cut yourself off as an orgasm overtakes your body, pouring pounds of pleasure over you all at once like one of those giant buckets at a water park. It’s electric, overwhelming, and so, so good. Your moans lilt out, high pitched and shaped something like Steve’s name.

He works you through it; he doesn’t stop until you peel his head from between your legs, pulling him up for a kiss that leaves you both lightheaded, exchanging moans between each others mouths as your bodies press together. You can taste yourself on him, something you didn’t expect to make you as feral as it does.

Steve breaks the kiss, sitting back on his knees to admire his handiwork. Gorgeous, angry little hickies have already begun to bloom beneath your satin skin. He’s excited for the day they fade so he can go back and replace them.

You watch him, laying breathless while he ogles you with a smirk, scanning your body up and down to appreciate the beautiful mess he’s made of it.

It makes you decide that payback may be due.

Steve stands, ridding himself of his bottoms, hard cock swinging free. You can’t help but think to yourself how pretty he is, how unfair it is that he’s so pretty everywhere.

You move to get up on your knees in front of Steve where he stands next to the bed, kissing his face, his jaw, his neck, his chest, his—

“Wait, wait, baby, wait,” he stops you mid-descent. “As hot as it is that you want to return the favor, I don’t think I’ll last and I really, really need to be inside you.”

It’s your turn to smirk now, but before you do, you turn those same pleading eyes he weaponized against you right back at him.

“Please, Stevie? I’ll be gentle, I’ll go real slow,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes up at him.

He presses his palms into his eyes, losing the fight for control going on in his head.

“…Fuck, just please be careful, no funny business, yeah?” he sighs out, looking down at you.

You let on that smirk now, and finish kissing your way down his body, laying on your stomach. Your tongue just barely teases the tip, a small kitten lick that grants you a drop of precum. He tenses at the feeling, sheer pleasure already making him regret his own weakness toward you. It’s all he can do not to blow his load at just the idea of what’s going on right now.

Gently, you place a hand beneath his dick, feeling the weight of it, your mouth watering. You wrap your fingers around it, careful not to use too much pressure. You look him in the eye as you pull just the head into your mouth, moaning around him.

“You’re gonna kill me, holy shit,” Steve says.

You giggle a bit, moving your mouth up and down just a bit, cautious of any sudden movements that might prove too overwhelming.

“Feels too good baby, won’t be able to keep going like this,” he pants, sensitive and whining.

You pull off of him with a soft pop. “Compromise, then?”

He’s not sure what you mean until-

“Jesus fucking Christ baby, holy shit, shit, shit!” Steve is fighting for his life at the sight of you softly stroking his cock with one of his balls pulled securely into your mouth.

You can tell by that reaction and by the purely distraught look on his face that he won’t let you stay down here for much longer, so you make the most of it.

You suck gently, continuing to stroke. You switch to the other side, but not without licking a fat stripe from his base to his tip, earning a strangled noise of pleasure.

“God, you’re cruel,” he whimpers out, unable to contain his own soft moans and sighs as you work.

Steve feels himself getting a little closer than he’d like. “Alright, that’s enough of that for you, missy,” he says as he pulls away from your touch, laughing at the noise of protest you make as he does.

“Don’t worry darlin’, just lay back for me,” he says, walking over to the jeans he had discarded earlier.

You do as he says with only a slight grumble, but can’t help yourself as you watch Steve walk. Even his ass is pretty, you think as you watch him bend over and pull out his wallet, plucking a foil packet from its confines.

He turns around then, and you’ve been caught staring.

Steve smirks when you rush to meet his eyes, feigning nonchalance. “Perv,” he teases before getting back into the bed with you.

You’d protest, but then his hands, those hands, are working deftly to unwrap a condom and roll it on, and suddenly you find yourself entirely uninterested in your status as a pervert.

He crawls back on top of you, moving to kiss you softly, a sharp contrast to the intensity of the moments you two just shared.

He breaks it only to say three words: “I love you.”

Forehead pressed into his, you know you should be shocked, but you aren’t. It feels right. You tell him, too.

“I love you, Steve.”

He smiles at you dopily, and you’re sure a matching smile adorns your face.

“Are you ready, baby?” He asks, interlocking one of his hands with yours, nothing but adoration and loving concern in his eyes.

You nod. “I want this, I want you,” you tell him honestly.

Steve presses one last sweet kiss to your lips, selfishly savoring the taste of them for just a little too long. He breaks it with a sigh. “I’ll go slow at first, sweetheart. You let me know if you need me to stop.”

You hum in agreement, focus resting between the two of you where he’s got your legs spread, kneeling in between them as he guides his cock to your entrance.

Slowly, almost too slowly, he pushes himself in, both of you groaning in relief when the head is in. He presses forward, meeting little resistance from your slippery heat. He sighs happily once he’s seated in you fully, just enjoying being enveloped in your warmth.

He probably would have stayed there if it wasn’t for the wiggle of your hips and the sudden clench he felt from inside of you.

“You can move, Stevie. Need it,” you sigh.

He takes the instruction, and both of you are wrecked as he works into a rhythm.

Your eyes flutter shut as you moan, but that won’t do for Steve.

“Nuh uh,” he says, dropping the hand he’s holding and getting down, shifting his weight to his elbows so he can hold your face in his hands. “Eyes on me. I don’t want to miss a thing.” His tone urges your compliance, so you give it to him, looking into his eyes.

Fuck.

The way your eyes bore into each others is nearly too much, the feeling of his hands splayed across your cheeks, your jaw, your temple… your senses are being flooded, and all your brain can compute is Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve.

He can see every reaction you give him, every hitch of your breath, adjusting until he’s in the perfect position for you, the squeezes of your fluttering cunt driving him wild.

You’re helpless, being held captive by your own pleasure, and Steve is only adding to it, talking to you in ramblings of his own pleasure.

“God, you know what you’re fucking doing to me?”

“Feels so good, sweet girl. Never wanna fuck another pussy again, only yours.”

“That’s it, baby, take it, take it. Doing so well for me, my gorgeous girl.”

“You like that? That feel good? Oh, I bet it does, huh?”

“Taking me like a champ, always knew you’d be good for me.”

You want to respond, you really do, but the way he’s talking to you, the way he’s pounding into you just right, the way he’s looking you right in your eyes as he speaks this utter filth, has left you wordless, only moaning and whining out little ah, ah, ah, fuck’s that only spur him on.

You feel your undoing start to form and begin to reach down, needing some attention on your clit to cross there.

“Don’t do that baby, let me. You close?” he says as he shifts all of his weight now to the one elbow, keeping your face in that hand as the other snakes down to rub circles just where you need them, making you whimper, fighting to keep your eyes open.

You nod at his question. “So close… gonna make me cum again, Stevie,” you manage to get out, snaking your arms around his neck, clinging to him desperately.

His eyes never leave yours. “Tell me what you need. Wanna feel you when you cum, feel you soak my cock.”

“F-faster.”

You barely get the word out before he starts to nearly double his speed, desperate to get you there, sharp, shallow, fast thrusts leaving you to just wail.

“Oh, fuck, Steve, please, please, fuck, please,” you ramble out, unsure what you’re begging for.

“C’mon, give it to me, you’re right there, cum for me.”

The perfect circles on your clit, the pistoning of his hips, the way he stares at you so intensely, egging you on? It all proves to be too much, and you feel yourself thrown off that cliff and into pure, sweet pleasure as your release rolls through you, Steve’s name on your tongue.

Steve cants into you desperately, rhythm breaking as he chases his own high, which is coming on much faster largely because of you. Feeling you grip him like a vice, and having watched just how angelic you look when you cum? He wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer.

Overstimulated and desperate, you start to egg him on the same way he had egged you on.

“Please, cum, Steve, I wanna feel it. Need to feel you finish so bad, feels too good, please, baby,” you breathe out. “Do it just for me, yeah?”

That’s a wrap for Steve. His thrusts grow lazy as you feel him twitch inside you, condom filling quickly with his load. He keeps thrusting until it hurts, only then settling down, pressing his forehead into yours, kissing all over your face gently as you both bask in the afterglow.

“You’re so perfect,” he mutters, his desperation for you to hear him, believe him, making his expression look almost pained as he squeezes his eyes shut. “It’s always gonna be you for me, you know that?”

You’re unsure how to respond, really. You find yourself so wrapped up in a warm, buzzy feeling, your adoration for him leaking all over your brain’s wiring, causing it to short circuit. So all you do is nod and close the distance between your mouths, giving him a kiss so gentle and loving that catches him in the moment. He wishes he could stay like this forever.

You both fight to end the kiss several times, but each time either of you pulls back even a little bit, you find yourselves pressing right back in for just one more.

When it finally does break, you look up at him and see the man you always knew, deep down, was here to stay. Your Steve.

“Thank you.”

He cocks his head. “You’re welcome, but what for?” Ever the gentleman.

“Just for being you.”

The two of you lay on your couch, Pretty in Pink over and quickly exchanged for When Harry Met Sally, an appropriately raunchy film for present company and previous activities.

You called out of work for the next day shortly after the two of you finally peeled out of bed. Steve had wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing soft encouraging kisses into your neck, your back, your shoulder as you rang your boss. You didn’t care if they thought you were only calling out because you were embarrassed; you know the truth doesn’t matter to these people, so you won’t waste it on them. All you want to do tomorrow is spend the day with your boyfriend, so you decided that that is what you’re going to do.

So there the you are, curled up in Steve’s arms for the foreseeable future, lips occasionally pressing into his wrists and hands as you held them. He hadn’t bothered with putting his shirt back on, and you let your robe sit where the two of you had ditched it earlier in favor of the warmth radiating from the chest against your back.

Sally fakes her orgasm in the diner, earning a laugh from both of you.

“I’m sure glad that I don’t ever have to question if you actually came,” Steve mutters, prompting you to tease.

“About that…”

“Bullshit!”

You giggle as his arms squeeze you in tighter, his lips attacking the side of your face and neck.

“Alright, alright, I yield, I yield! You are a true man in a sea of boys, you had me coming like a freight train, you win!”

His attack softens, smiley kisses becoming more intentional. He doesn’t let go of his now-tightened hold on you, though. He just likes having you close too much.

Steve mutters into your ear, shaking you gently in his arms to make his point. “I meant what I said earlier, you know. It wasn’t in the heat of the moment, I do love you.”

Somehow you find yourself far more flustered when he says that to you with his clothes on, but you know you feel the same.

“And I love you, Steve. Thank you for everything you did for me today… and I do mean everything,” you say, only a bit cheeky.

He nips at your ear, but still says, “Anytime, pretty girl. Anytime.”

You turn just a bit, hands tracing over his bruised knuckle and face, worry forming behind your eyes, just a small frown playing at your lips.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to try to cover those up for you? A quick run to the pharmacy and I’m sure I could find what I need to color correct,” you muse, but Steve just shakes his head.

“Nah, I kinda dig them. Makes me look a little badass! If anyone asks, I’ll just tell them they should see the other guy,” he pauses, but then says, quietly, “Plus, it’s pretty much like a shining badge of having defended your honor. Why would I ever cover that?” There’s a teasing tone behind his words but you can tell he really means it.

“Alright. You’re sweet. But please defend my honor without fists next time, I don’t want to have to look Hopper in the eye when I bail you out.”

“No promises, sweetheart,” he says, mischievous. You can hear his grin.

You roll your eyes, but you still smile.

You think you could get used to a life like this.

Thank you for reading! 🩵

#mars fics #i’ve never posted creative writing before please be nice or i might combust #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff #hurt/comfort #baby’s first fanfic #robin buckley mentioned

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buckyalpine · 1 year ago

Text

Bucky comfort. What I need like air right now is a sweet, chubby baker Bucky who notices his bunny is down. She doesn't say anything out of the ordinary when she comes to visit the bakery, kissing his soft scruffy cheek before taking a seat at the booth with a fresh Danish he made.

Cherry, because that's her favorite.

He can tell something is off when her smile doesn't quite meet her eyes and she's curled up in his hoodie quietly nibbling on the pastry instead of clinging onto him like she usually does.

He doesn't like it. Not one bit.

He loves when his girl hugs his thick waist tightly from behind while his works at the dough and rolls out croissants. Her little hands usually knead at the fluff around his belly. Instead she seems to be in her own world, wrapping her arms tightly around herself and pushing herself further into her seat to hide from the rest of world. You tell him you have to run a few errands and he doesn't miss your steamy eyes and small voice as you scurry off out of the bakery and it just adds to his worry.

Bucky was having none of that.

He lets Sam and Steve take over a couple of his orders, cleaning off and deciding to go straight home to you instead, he knows you don't actually have errands to do, he always makes sure to take care of them anyway. When he arrives back home, he isn't surprised to see your smaller form curled in a ball on the couch, eyes wide, surprised to see him.

"Bucky?" the quiver in your voice gives away that you'd been crying moments earlier.

"C'mere baby bunny" Bucky cooed, scooping you up in his beefy arms, and cradling your body to his, holding you to his chest while you nuzzle into his neck. "Wanna tell me what's going on in that little head of yours" He whispered against your hair, stroking it while you pull back, giving him a shrug. He knows you don't always want to talk about it but he's going to do what he can to make you feel better

"I'm not sure" You say with a sigh, your mind still running around a thousand miles a minute. Nothing particularly bad happened but one thought led to another; questioning if you were happy with your job, if you were happy with where you were in life, if you were someone Bucky would actually even want to be with, someone so sweet and loving and handsome like him, all your friends seemed to have found their footing and you were still here so unsure-

"Shhh" he kissed your forehead as if he could hear your insecurities screaming at you from inside your head. "What do you need sweet girl" His lips brush against the top of your head, breathing in your soft scent of peach body wash and vanilla lotion. He has you perfectly tucked into his much larger form, as if he were trying to protect his baby bunny from the rest of the world.

"Cuddles?" You cling onto him, sighing contently when he shifts so he can wrap you up in his arms while you bury your face into his chest. Everything about him is so comforting, if you could find a way to burrow yourself into him, you would. Your wiggling and shifting to get even closer makes Bucky chuckle, cooing at the whine you let out when he pulls away.

"Not going anywhere bunny, just getting us more comfortable" You're not sure how he does it but with minimal effort and movement he's helped you strip off all your clothes along with his, tossing the fluffy throw to cover you both up. You love feeling his bare skin against yours, practically purring now that you can feel every bit of him.

The rumble of your stomach doesn't go unnoticed by Bucky and he makes sure to wrap you up in a blanket burrito before getting up and padding over to the kitchen.

"Where are you going now" You pout and he cups your face with the gentlest touch.

"You're hungry bub, I'm just getting a snacky" and with that he walks off, grinning at the giggle you let out watching his perfectly perky ass saunter off.

"Yummyy" You wiggle happily from under your blanket at both the sight of you very pretty, very naked boyfriend carrying in a plate of more Danishes and a bunch of other pastries and fruit he grabbed on the way out when he left the bakery.

Bucky adores seeing you like this, setting down the snacks so he can hold you again when you give him grabby arms. He doesn't let you lift a fingers, feeding you another Danish, kissing the crumbs that clung onto your lips. He runs you a bath next. His bunny doesn't feel like moving much so he's happy to carry you there while you wrap yourself around him like a koala bear.

By the end of the night he loves seeing the light return to your eyes, your soft giggles when he has you perched on the bathroom counter doing your skin care routine with him.

"Keep your little paws to yourself, doll" Bucky swats away your hands when you reach for the lotion, taking over the job for himself. He's more than happy to massage up and down your calves to your thighs. He massages all the knots out of your back and shoulders before carrying you off to bed again for more cuddles and kisses.

Anyway, this was sitting in the drafts for weeds and it's still what I need rn.

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kinamiiii · 1 month ago

Text

Wasn’t sure what to do with these pictures until now, cuz they’ve been rotting my brain since I saw them. So here’s what!

Taste Test 🧁

Pair: DBF!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad is out for the afternoon and you and his best friend, Bucky, help make a special treat whilst finding something to occupy your time until he returns for his birthday.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, partly proofread, Modern AU, reader in her early 20s, DBF!Bucky in his early 40s, so age gap basically, somewhat desperate Bucky, innocent reader, fluff, smut, in the kitchen, finger sucking, oral (f receiving), fingering, cum eating, slight aftercare.

a/n: My first Bucky fic ever! Please do tell me what you think about it in the comments, I’d really appreciate the feedback. Especially since I don’t wanna mischaracterize someone like him ok. Also if these kinds of fics are not in your wheelhouse, please avoid for your own sake. 🙏🏽

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Bucky watched over Steve’s house while he was out doing a last minute errand for the afternoon. You as Steve’s daughter, were still at home, innocent and damn near sweet like sugar, making Bucky feel immensely guilty from the immediate lustful imagination his mind had presented to him once he saw you.

You haven’t known Bucky for very long, in fact, this was the first time you had ever seen him since he decided to pay your dad a visit today for his birthday, on the 4th of July. When he laid his eyes on you, he thought you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in a long time. Wearing your short, baby blue pleated sundress, protected with a white frilly apron and matching flat shoes, standing over a full tray of freshly baked, plain, red velvet flavored cupcakes on the counter, ready to be frosted. You held the piping bag, filled with red and blue butter cream, firmly over each tiny cake, icing them in thick perfect swirls.

Bucky was stood leaning against the doorframe while he watched you work with full concentration. However, your head snapped to the left as the sound of him clearing his throat entered your ears. You gave the brunette man a grin before getting back to your cupcakes. He stepped closer to the counter top, crossing his broad plaid sleeved arms over his chest as he looked over to the white sprinkles you had set aside in a small glass bowl. “Need any help with those?” You lifted your head again as you heard his sincere tone of voice, meeting his gaze with wide eyes. You then glanced over to the direction his head nodded in, gesturing towards the bowl. “Oh, sure! You can use them on the first half while I finish ice the rest,” you replied cheerfully and shuffled your feet to give Bucky some room next to you. He reached over and picked up the bowl of sprinkles with one hand, whilst taking a pinch of the white topping and started decorating the desserts.

Once you had been done icing the last cupcake, you placed the piping bag down and watched as the tall, beefy man added the hundreds and thousands over the other half of the sugary batch. You let out a giggle at the expression that graced his features, wrinkling his forehead from the intense focus. “Y’know, I never thought I’d see someone give so much attention to a few tiny cakes with a few sprinkles.” Bucky’s face quickly softened with parted lips to respond. “Well, I mean, they are for your dad after all. It’s his day and it’s only right that these look the part,” he said with a slight playfulness. “You made these all by yourself?” He asked you as he added the last few sprinkles and set the bowl back to the counter.

“Mhm! Luckily they were already in the oven before dad left. Can’t have the old man seeing his surprise.” You laughed nervously and fiddled with your fingers before stepping towards the refrigerator. You then open one of its doors, gesturing with your hand for the man to place the cupcakes on the available shelf inside. He followed suit and you closed the door gingerly, keeping the desserts nice and chilled until your father was ready to return home. You reached both your arms behind your neck, pulling the ribbon of your apron loose from its knot. You were about to do the same for the one at the back of your waist, when you felt a presence swiftly move behind you. “I-I can get this one for you, sweetheart.” Bucky’s fingers latched onto the tails of the knot, hesitating to pull them as he realized where his current position was. As he was stood so closely to you, his nostrils were pleasantly blessed with the scent of your lavender perfume, his eyes had been locked on the curves of your waist through your tantalizing dress, and the plumpness of your rear just centimeters away from his crotch.

He exhaled sharply and quickly regained focus, finally pulling the knot apart. The apron came off your body and you promptly folded it and placed it in one of the cabinets below. You gave the man a quick “thank you” and your lips curved into a smile that could make his heart stop. “Y-yeah, no problem,” he stuttered and took some steps away from you. You turned your head to the piping bag that you had set aside, picking it up and squeezing a dollop of the red and blue mixed butter cream onto the pad of your pointer finger. Then, you stuck that same finger between your lips, moaning softly as the sugary goodness melted on your tongue. Bucky watched on, hopelessly wishing that he could hear you sound just as adorable if you got a taste of him in your mouth.

God, it’s illegal how purely cute you are.

“You wanna have a taste? I promise it’s really good! Made it with a lot of love.”

Fuuuuuck!

He nodded eagerly and you gave the plastic bag a good squeeze onto your finger again, closing the distance between you and him and inching the icing to his mouth. “Say ahh,” you said, prompting him to part his lips and let your finger in. He did just that and groaned, allowing himself to drown in its delectable flavor that had luckily been mixed with hints of your own saliva. His cheeks became flushed and hot as he sucked around your knuckle for a good minute, being sure to get every last bit of cream before releasing it. “Hehe, must have really done a good job then. Looks like you love it,” you giggled as you pulled your hand back to you, daring yourself to try more of the icing.

“Are you kidding? Good job? Sweetheart, that was amazing! Your dad’s gonna love this, I know it!” His compliment went straight to your heart, making it flutter in your chest. “Tha-thank you, Mr. Barnes! I guess now we wait until he gets back so we can all eat his surprise together.” The way you said his formal name so considerately sent his blood rushing all the down to the pole in his jeans, fortunately then being baggy enough to hide the evidence of his arousal out of your sight. You propped yourself to sit on top the kitchen counter, eating more butter cream to satisfy your sweet tooth. A chuckle escaped Bucky’s throat as he folded his arms and stood inches away from your side. “Honey, are you trying to get cavities? I’m surprised you haven’t gotten any at all, with how already sweet you are and all.”

Your face flamed with heat, making you clear your throat and gulp, shaking your head in a bit of denial. “It’s fine honestly. Like I said, I made it with lots of love! And a person can’t get enough of that, right?”

You’re made with a lot of love too, doll face~

Bucky nodded to your words with his eyes soon getting distracted as they traveled all over your sat body. He caught on to the bit of cleavage that peaked from your wide neckline, and stopping at the short skirt of your dress that rode up half your thighs, revealing their plush, squishy skin as they were shut together. Then without really thinking about it, he moved himself and stood in front of you. Your eyes widened with your finger being trapped between your teeth mid suck from another portion of your cupcake icing. He then drew his face near yours with little gap separating you from him, and both his strong arms caging your petite form inside as he held the edge of the marble counter.

He looked down at you, with a hunger deep in his hooded stare as he urged himself to speak with confidence. “I bet you taste even better though, doll,” he smirked. “So pretty and delicate, and filled with… love, aren’t you?” You readily yanked your finger out your mouth to try and answer him, but nothing left your vocal cords once you parted your trembling lips. You were so surprised at his sudden mood change, but not completely unsettled by it. His closeness felt strangely comfortable, yet bursting with an hot arousing aura that you couldn’t get away from even if you tried. “I-I… Mr. Barnes..?” Bucky subtly sucked and bit the bottom of his lip as his name was spoken in your voice again, almost clawing at the counter’s edge with his nails to ground himself.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know I’ve only met you just today but I’m already obsessed.” He leaned forward, his lips lightly grazing your pair and slowly pulling the piping bag you still held away from your grasp. He then paused, almost as if he was waiting on your approval. His hand gradually brought itself up to the back of your neck, holding it with care as it were glass not meant to be broken. Your expression softened as you felt his warm palm against your tender skin and stared at him in the eyes. You hadn’t even realized your body moving on its own once you finally planted your lips onto Bucky’s. Both your orbs fluttered shut along with his, kissing each other slowly but passionately. You let out a little squeak as you got intruded by his thick, whirling tongue, slipping between your lips and teeth to play with your own, and tasting the lingering flavor of the previously eaten butter cream in your mouth. With a slight tilt, your head leaned into his palm once it cupped your cheek, and the moans you had kept so silent, managed to escape into the brunette’s mouth, causing him to groan and deepen the heated kiss further.

Your thighs instinctively spread apart and your hands reached for his biceps, pulling his body snugly between your legs. The two of you shortly pulled away to catch your breath, still holding onto one another whilst gazing into each other’s souls. You were about to say something when Bucky stopped you dead in your tracks. “So… looks like I was right. You do taste better,” he chuckled and gave you a peck on your nose. He gently held your chin up in his index finger and thumb. You wanted to turn your face to hide your burning embarrassment but he wouldn’t let you. “If you don’t mind me asking, doll, when’s your dad comin' back, hm?” Bucky nipped at your jawline, trailing his teeth down your sensitive neck to earn more of your needy whines.

“When he left, h-he… he said he’d be ba-back in two hours,” you stuttered in response. The man briefly checked his gold wristwatch, smirking to himself as he found enough time to have his fill of you. Just about an hour left to be exact. Just enough to taste more of you. It wasn’t very long before Bucky sunk down to his knees, having you jolt astonishingly while he spread your thighs even wider with his large hands, revealing to him your silk panties shielding away your most vulnerable area. He lifted two of his fingers and lightly rubbed at your protruding wetness through the silk. He then moved his fingers away and leaned in closer, sticking his wide tongue freely and pressed it onto your clothed cunt. You yelped and grabbed hold of the marble counter’s edge, thinking to yourself how much more of his boldness could you possibly handle.

He made a few more kitten licks before hooking his finger in the crotch of your panties, pulling them to the side to expose you sopping pussy out to the open. A shiver unsurprisingly passed through you as the cool air hit your entrance. You looked down at him as he physically shuddered at the sight of you, practically marveling at the gorgeous flower that blossomed between your legs, tempting him with your dripping nectar. Bucky’s fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs and he lunged his mouth onto your hardened bud, lapping at it and your hole with incredible vigor. “A-ahh, Mr. Barnes!” Your fingers ran through his brown locks and latched securely in your fist, along with your thighs squeezing around his head to keep him there.

The excessive flicks and subtle nibbles at your clit nearly sent you through the roof. The vibrations of his throaty grunting and the bristles of his heavy stubble grinding against your sex slowly turned your brain to mush. “Fuuuck, you taste so good, baby,” he muffled in your wet folds. “I don’t think I can ever get enough of you.” Bucky could feel his dick stiffen more than it already had been, twitching and leaking precum into his jeans just from being able to devour you whole. In his best friend’s own kitchen no less. The act was so filthy and deceitful but he couldn’t care less because he had you exactly how he wanted you. You arched your back and pointed your pedicured toes in your blue flat shoes as your squeals echoed throughout the room, shutting your eyes and pulling at his hair.

The heat built up ferociously under your skin as the knot inside you drew close to unraveling above him. Mouth gapping as you gasped for portions of air. By that moment, the starved brunette could tell that you were about to let loose, chuckling deeply and without warning, plunging two fingers inside you. Your eyes shot open at his sudden intrusion, feeling their quick, curling and scissoring motions along your spongy walls, occasionally nudging your good spot. “You’re so close, aren’t you, baby? Yeah? You wanna cum, don’t you, sweetheart?” You nodded your head aggressively, not trusting your own mouth to talk just yet. “You can… it’s ok. Just let go for me. Lemme savor you,” he cooed before having his tongue return to your throbbing pearl.

Taking his words to heart, the knot ultimately came loose and you came all over his greedy tongue. Bucky soon locked eyes with you as he relished in your extraordinary juices before parting ways with your aching cunt. You got a good look at how your cum glazed the hairs of his beard and his fingers, panting profusely with shaken legs. He quickly got off his knees and stood upright, teasingly sucking the slick off his digits in front of you. “Yup, I can definitely get used to this,” he commented smugly towards you. He watched you trying to catch your breath, stepping close and cupping your face in his hands. Your eyes glistened back at his steel blue ones as you exhaled deeply. “Doing alright, sweetheart? I didn’t break ya, did I?” You let out a giggle and shook your head, reassuring him that you were okay.

“Was I… really better than the butter cream?” You asked him curiously through your grin and a tilted head. He smiled back and pulled your face in for a deep, breathy kiss. The flavor of your cum still stuck on his lips and slobbering tongue, allowing you to have a proper taste of yourself from his mouth. “Hmmm, guess I am pretty good.” Bucky snorted out a laugh at your astounded reaction and reached his hands down to your waist, helping you get off the counter and fixing your panties back into their respective place. You patted the skirt of your sundress down and looked up at the man whose hair was partly disheveled from your hand’s pulling. You then raised your arms up and tried to fix his brown strands back into place. As you did so, he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his chin clean, as though nothing had really happened.

“All better, just like new!” You cheered and he walked over to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. “We should probably clean up that counter too. Can’t have Steve raising his eyebrows at our… mess,” he suggested and clutched a few sheets of paper towels, handing you a spray bottle of disinfectant. You hummed in agreement and took the bottle, spraying the liquid onto the marble so he could wipe it down. Just as you both were cleaning up, you hadn’t noticed your dad coming through the front door until you heard his voice booming through the walls. “Hey guys! I’m back! Hope I didn’t miss out on anything!” You both froze on the spot and glanced at each other before you opened your mouth to answer back. “W-we’re in the kitchen, dad! And don’t worry, you haven’t missed a thing.” Bucky checked his watch and realized Steve had come back fifteen minutes early, assuming he must have gotten what he needed and rushed back home. Luckily, he arrived after the events of you and his best friend defiling his kitchen.

Talk about perfect fucking timing.

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