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artficlly · 20 days ago

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his girls [one-shot]

marvel au bucky x reader alpine barely tolerates anyone but bucky, so when she curls up in your lap without a second thought, the team is left reeling—especially when it leads to the not-so-subtle revelation that you and bucky have been sneaking around for months.

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, alpine is a troublemaker, secret dating, swearing, kissing, alcohol, tony knows all, natasha too, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: hello! once again a fic no one asked for lol. i'm supposed to be on hiatus buuut i took some time this afternoon to write this because i'm procrastinating a uni assignment. i'm sure this concept has been done before, but i was thinking about that scene in rivals with the dog (iykyk) and yeah! step away from the usual angst and heartbreak i normally provide you all with. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

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You were careful.

Or at least, you thought you were careful.

For months, you and Bucky had kept your relationship under wraps. It wasn’t that you wanted to keep secrets from the team, but there was something thrilling about stolen moments and hushed conversations. About Bucky’s hand on the small of your back as he guided you through a crowded room, or the way he’d brush a kiss against your temple before disappearing down the hall.

You figured no one had noticed.

Until today.

It all started with one of many white hairs stuck to your t-shirt.

Natasha plucked it off you mid-conversation one morning in the kitchen while you were praying—desperately—to whatever all-seeing god might finally make the coffee machine work faster. Between the groaning, spluttering sounds and the blinking lights, it felt like the damn thing was possessed. With flawlessly manicured nails, Natasha held the hair up to the morning light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the compound.

“Is this Alpine’s fur?” she mused aloud, twirling the long, pale strand between her fingers.

“Probably.” you replied absently, more concerned with the coffee machine’s latest refusal to cooperate. You jabbed the buttons harder, ignoring the way Natasha’s eyes flickered with something dangerously close to amusement.

“For all of Tony’s money, you’d think we’d have a coffee machine that actually works,” you grumbled.

“Turn around?” Natasha asked. There was a particular lilt to her voice, that barely concealed intrigue she tried—and failed—to mask whenever she was onto something. It set you on edge instantly, the tone that meant she was clicking a mystery into place, giddy with excitement beneath a thin veil of indifference. You didn’t trust it for a second.

“No, just—” You smacked the machine in frustration. It whined pathetically before the lights blinked off entirely. You let out a long, exasperated groan. “Why won’t this stupid fucking thing ever work—”

“Jesus, you’re covered in it—”

You froze mid-motion as Natasha yanked at your shirt, effectively grooming you like a monkey. Her sharp lips had turned up into a wicked smirk, the type of smirk that made dread pool in your gut.

“Everything is covered in her fur,” you said quickly, still trying for casual. You reached for the plug, praying Natasha would drop it. “She sheds everywhere, especially on the couch.”

“Mm.” Natasha tilted her head, her smirk deepening. “And yet, I thought Tony hired cleaners for that? Especially with Kate always bringing Lucky around?”

You yanked the plug from the socket a little too forcefully. “Honestly, Nat, I don’t know. I just want this damn machine to work.”

Right on cue, a familiar voice rumbled behind you.

“Machine giving you trouble again?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest before resuming its normal rhythm—though maybe a little faster. You turned just as Bucky strolled in, looking frustratingly good despite the early hour. His hair was a little dishevelled, sleep still clinging to him in a way that made him look too soft for someone who could snap a man’s spine in half.

“There’s a trick to it, remember?” He stepped in close beside you, skin brushing yours as he reached for the machine. The scent of his aftershave lingered, warm and familiar. You tried—and failed—not to watch the way the muscles in his forearm tensed, veins shifting beneath his skin as he pressed a series of buttons.

“Barnes, you’ve got cat hair all over you,” Natasha noted, not even bothering to be subtle. You didn’t dare look at her. Instead, you busied yourself wringing your hands, pretending you weren’t hyper-aware of Bucky standing so damn close.

“Huh?” Bucky barely spared a glance at his shirt, where Alpine’s fur was unmistakably clinging to the fabric. “Oh. Yeah, guess I do. She always wants attention in the morning.”

Then, with one final smack, the machine roared to life. The rich aroma of coffee filled the air as liquid finally poured into your mug. You sighed in sheer relief.

“There you go,” Bucky said, looking down at you with a small smile, a few strands of dark hair falling across his forehead.

Your stomach did a stupid little flip. You smiled back, warmth creeping into your face. “Thanks.”

The machine beeped again, snapping you back to reality. You quickly grabbed the mug with both hands, muttered another thanks, and let Natasha tug you away.

“What was that?” She hissed, voice low as she turned to you with narrowed eyes.

“Huh?” You weren’t entirely listening to her words. You found yourself glancing over your shoulder, a ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. You could still see Bucky standing in the kitchen, both hands braced on the counter as he waited for his own coffee. His back was turned, but even through the thin material of his fur-covered t-shirt, you could see the way his muscles shifted beneath it—

Natasha didn’t even humour your innocence. She crossed her arms. “You and Barnes?”

“What about him?” You mumbled, pulling your gaze away as the elevator dinged, doors sliding open.

Her lips twitched, amusement clear. “Are you two—?”

You made a face at her. “What are you on about?”

Natasha didn’t look convinced, but she let it go.

For now.

As the elevator hummed and Bucky was cut from your view as the doors shut, you took a sip of coffee, the liquid a few degrees between too hot and burning. It scalded your tongue, and with the phantom smell of Bucky’s aftershave no longer haunting you, you felt your mind snap back into action.

Right. Focus.

“We’re going to be late for the meeting,” you declared, shaking your head. “And that damn machine is the reason. You know what? Let’s take a detour to Stark’s lab and demand a better one.”

Natasha chuckled, pressing the button for a different floor.

“I like the way you think.”

—

You knew Alpine would be your downfall.

The little white menace was notoriously selective. If you weren’t Bucky, she wanted nothing to do with you. Everyone at the compound had suffered her wrath at least once—Sam even had the scars to prove it. Alpine liked to play dangerous games that usually ended in blood or a yowl of pain. You swore the Avengers bled more dealing with the feline than fighting aliens, wizards, or whatever else tried to obliterate Earth every other week. She was a cunning little creature, lurking around corners, hiding under tables, prowling along bookshelves. And just when you least expected it—bam. Teeth and claws bared, she would pounce, latching on like a tiny, vengeful spectre. This was her idea of fun. The Avengers had learned to tread carefully, tip-toeing around the compound whenever they knew she wasn’t safely curled up in Bucky’s room, where she ruled with an iron paw.

So, when you sat down on the couch one evening, and Alpine immediately hopped onto your lap, you knew you were fucked.

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t so much as sniff at you in consideration before curling right up, purring loud enough to be heard over the football game droning on in the background—which you were only half paying attention to.

You stiffened, caught between awe at the rare privilege and sheer dread at the witnesses currently gaping at you.

Bucky, for his part, had been sitting at the other end of the couch, flirting with danger in his usual way—stolen glances, conveniently placed touches as he shifted in place. Alpine, just as obsessed with him as you were (Bucky had taken to calling you both ‘his girls’ in private, which always managed to make you swoon.), had immediately perched in his lap when he sat down. Only when he carefully pried her off to grab another round of beers did the little white she-beast decide you were a worthy substitute, strutting over with lazy, languid confidence before settling down, blissfully unaware of what she had just unleashed.

The room fell into stunned silence. Several pairs of eyes locked onto you, breath collectively held. They were waiting for the yowl, for the inevitable attack, for you to tense up and leap to your feet in pain. But to your horror, the little sadist simply settled in. Cosy, unbothered, as if this had been the plan all along.

“Okay, what the hell is this?” Sam finally demanded, pointing an accusing finger.

You blinked down at Alpine, then up at Sam, stroking the soft fur like nothing was amiss. “Uh… a cat?”

You were foolish and desperate enough to pretend this was completely normal, to gaslight the others into believing Alpine was a perfectly gentle and affectionate cat. A sweet, loving companion. Not a tiny, vengeful menace who had terrorised them all—and definitely not a creature who had only warmed up to you in recent months because you spent more time in Bucky’s bed than your own.

“The same cat that tried to claw out my eyeball for getting too close? And now she’s just—” He gestured wildly at Alpine, who flicked her tail with the smugness of a queen on her throne. “—cuddling with you like you’re her best buddy?”

“She likes me, I guess.” You blinked innocently, turning back to the TV, hoping he would drop it, but Sam, ever the dramatic, was not satisfied.

“Are you kidding me? That cat has tried to kill me.”

Natasha snorted into her drink.

Alpine smugly licked her paw before resting her head upon your thigh and blinking her wide blue eyes at Sam, who shook his head with an exaggerated shudder. “This is bullshit, and you know it—”

“Maybe she just doesn’t like you, Sam.” You huffed, scratching Alpine behind her ears. “She’s always been fine with me.”

“That is not true!”

“She took a chunk out of my arm once,” Natasha added, ever the instigator.

“Remember when I gave her a treat and she bit me?” Steve piped up.

Bucky returned at that moment, frowning as he saw the conversation unfolding before him. You turned to him with wide, desperate eyes, silently pleading for help. Alpine, the little traitor, merely pressed her pink nose to your hand, rubbing her face against you with a contented sigh.

“She only likes people she’s comfortable with,” Bucky offered, setting the beers down with a clink, but his pitiful attempt to be helpful only added fuel to the fire.

The room exploded into a series of overlapping voices.

“I didn’t realise you spent so much time with Alpine?” Natasha’s sharp gaze flicked between you and Bucky, her smirk primed to taunt you both.

“Buck, doesn’t she spend all her time in your room—?” Steve leaned forward, forearms braced against his thighs, invested now.

Sam jolted upright like he’d just solved a murder case. “Now, hold on a second—”

“You have been covered in cat fur a lot lately,” Natasha mused. “And you two have been suspiciously close—”

As you glanced over at Bucky, you couldn’t tell if his repeated blunders were intentional or borne out of genuine panic. He cleared his throat, his brows raising as he casually popped off the cap of one of the beers with his vibranium thumb in faux nonchalance.

“Coincidence.” He muttered with a shrug, tipping back a mouthful of the brew.

Alpine, completely oblivious (or entirely aware of the chaos she’d caused), didn’t budge as Bucky sat back down beside you, levelling you with a look that screamed we are so screwed.

“You two aren’t even going to try to lie?” Natasha pressed.

“Lie about what?” You feigned innocence, but the act was flimsy at best. The jig was well and truly up.

Bucky, clearly done with this little charade, let out a long-suffering sigh that might’ve sounded exasperated if not for the telltale smirk tugging at his lips. Without another word, he slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you effortlessly against his chest, Alpine still coiled contentedly in your lap. The smug little she-beast didn’t even stir. She just purred loudly—too loudly, like she was taking credit for the entire thing.

“Wait a second!” Sam pointed a dramatic finger between the two of you. “How long has this been happening?”

“How long has what been happening?” Tony strolled into the room, a glass of amber liquid that looked suspiciously like whiskey in hand.

“Her,” Steve announced, gesturing between the both of you. “And Barnes.”

Tony didn’t even blink. “Oh, I already knew that. You didn’t know that?”

Bucky turned so fast you were surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash. “You what?”

“Oh, come on,” Tony drawled, making himself comfortable on the armrest of the couch like this was all just another day at the office. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice her sneaking out of your room at ungodly hours for the past six months? F.R.I.D.A.Y. kept flagging intruders, and, shocker—it was just you two, utterly failing at stealth.”

Sam threw up his hands. “Did you say six months?!”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but instead of answering, he just turned to you and, without hesitation, kissed you.

It was sudden but warm, his lips soft against yours like he’d been waiting for an excuse. The room erupted into even more noise, Sam shouting something unintelligible, Natasha making a sound of smug satisfaction, and Steve groaning like he should’ve known, but it all faded into the background.

You laughed against Bucky’s lips, breathless but entirely unbothered. “This is definitely her fault.”

Alpine, still purring in your lap like the devious little mastermind she was, flicked her tail.

Bucky just hummed, brushing his nose against yours. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Not complaining, though.”

And, truthfully, neither were you.

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #alpine #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #winter soldier #marvel fic #marvel au #marvel

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sun-kissy · 4 months ago

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bucky barnes who doesn’t trust unless it comes to you. whose eyes soften at the sight of you, because his heart knows that it’s okay to let his guard down. he believed the world always had its claws out to get him, until he fell straight into your gentle arms. he tells you the word love meant nothing to him until you came along.

bucky barnes who would live for you. the winter soldier would kill for anyone, the white wolf would die for anyone, but bucky would live for you. he’s never believed in fate, but if it wasn't destiny that brought you to him, he doesn’t know what it was. he thinks maybe it was all worth it, the trauma and the scars and the pain, if it all lead up to the moment when you told him i love you.

bucky barnes who searches for you even in nightmares, screams your name till his lungs burn with self-hatred. you’re his safe space, his home. he’s drawn back to wakefulness as soon as he feels your touch, the gentleness of your breath on his skin like an aching balm to his wounds. he’ll never stop apologising for the burden that comes with his affection, yet he won’t ever stop loving you.

bucky barnes who thinks of hurting you as no less than a sin. who believes even pulling out a single strand of your hair is a hundred times worse than every murder committed as the winter soldier. because what’s a few dozen people in comparison to his whole universe?

bucky barnes who wakes up a little earlier in the morning; not to see the sun rise, but to watch the soft rays dapple your face. he thinks you look angelic, the golden hue painting you in so much beauty that he feels blessed; wonders if he ought to start praying to gods he never once believed in.

bucky barnes who tells you he loves you more times than he can count. whose voice is hardened from years of tortured, ragged cries; but the word doll tumbles out of his lips like soft petals when he looks at you. he knows seven different tongues, and is fluent in every single one. he claims that none of them have the words to describe how you make him feel.

bucky barnes who kisses like a hungry dog, like there’s an ache in his soul that can only be filled by the feeling of your lips on his, skin to skin. he believes the sole purpose of his metal arm is to pin you to the wall. roughness is the only form of love he’s ever known.

bucky barnes who buys you everything you talk about in passing, who takes you out wherever your heart yearns to go, who kisses your knuckles with the softest touch of his lips. he inhales when you exhale at night to make space for the rise of your chest. he only ever holds your hand with his non-metal one so as to not hurt you. he traces your features while you sleep. he loves you with the full force of the word, because you’re his girl.

bucky barnes who could never unlove you, would never want to. even if the strings of his soul were tied to another, he would cut them off and run straight to you.

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kylopen · 1 month ago

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In My Head

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Sunshine reader is always seen as sweet and innocent to the team, always happy to use her healing magic wherever possible. Bucky, touch starved and in love, discovers reader is not as innocent as she seems.

Word count: 8.2k words <3

Plus size reader safe! All body types are safe in this fic! Everyone loves Dom! Bucky I do too but good god I need whipped Bucky who will do anything for Reader. This is the longest piece I’ve written in so long! Enjoy and leave a note<3 I’m in my marvel era again so feel free to request anyone! I didn't proof read (i finished it at 1am)

Tags: There is a plot! (porn with plot lol) AFAB reader, The smut is pure FILTH tbh, Smut, Pining Bucky, no use of Y/N.

Smut warnings: Sub!Bucky, soft dom! Reader, use of ‘Good boy’, Bucky has a praise kink, pussy eating (lots of it), Needy/touch starved Bucky, Bucky has an Edward Cullen moment, Oral (female/reader receiving— THREE times hehe) penetration, Buck likes his hair pulled, Bucky dry humps, Reader squirts (third oral sequence so skip that part if you wish) needy creampie.

There were things in the modern world that baffled Bucky, Bubble tea, new terms for prejudice ending in 'phobia', babies with Ipads in their faces. And you. The first time he laid eyes on you, you gave him a blindingly sweet smile, and held your hand out for him to shake. When he didn't take it you didn't judge him or look at him funny, you smiled like you understood. From then on, you respected his boundaries and he began to feel safe. It made sense to him that someone like you had the power to help and heal others.

You’d always bring them things; vitamins, water, those weird orange flavoured things that dissolve in water, something a little sugary for a boost, with that sweet, innocent smile he'd grown to adore. He would never- could never admit that though, someone like him wasn't worthy of you. He could settle for some longing and pining instead.

Bucky is lounging on the sofa with Steve, some 50s flick playing that Steve had insisted on, something about a painter in Paris- he wasn't sure. And then, you walk in, your sweet voice drifting into his ear.

“An American in Paris, huh?” you asked, gently teasing as you moved closer to the sofa, catching sight of the movie they were watching.

Bucky shifted a little, his gaze flickering to you, then quickly back to the TV. He tried not to look at you too much when you were around, not because he didn’t want to, but because every time he did, it felt like something in his chest tightened. It certainly didn’t help that it was a hot day today, you’d opted for a cute pink and white sundress that stopped mid thigh.

“Yeah, Steve’s choice,” Bucky muttered, trying to sound casual, but his voice came out a little softer than he intended. He knew that you liked these kinds of old movies, so maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

Steve grinned from the other end of the couch, catching the subtle shift in Bucky’s tone, but not saying anything about it. Instead, he glanced up at you with a friendly smile.

“You a fan of the classics too?” Steve asked, gesturing for you to sit if you wanted to join them.

You walked over, the scent of your shampoo reaching Bucky’s senses. Vanilla and coconut, coincidentally his favourite fragrance, something that had changed not long after he’d met you… coincidentally of course, and the more you lingered around, the harder it became for him to focus on anything but you.

“Reminds me of my dad. Some are super sexist but I’m a sucker for Marilyn Monroe” you said, sitting down at the edge of the couch, right next to Bucky. Close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off of you, but still with enough space to respect his boundaries. You always seemed to know exactly how to balance that, without even trying. It amazed him.

Bucky felt his pulse quicken as you sat beside him. You were so close. Too close. Not close enough.

He grunted in agreement with your statement, nodding, though his eyes stayed fixed on the screen. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to you—he just didn’t know how. What could he say that wouldn’t make him seem awkward or broken? Besides, talking might make him reveal just how badly he wanted to be near you, and he couldn’t afford that.

But then you spoke again, your voice soft and gentle, like you were speaking just to him. “How was training today?”

He cleared his throat, trying to push away the thoughts clouding his mind. “Same as always. Steve still hits like a truck.”

Steve laughed from the other side, “You’re the one with the metal arm, Buck.”

Bucky shot him a look, but there was no real bite to it. Just a distraction. He was grateful for it.

You laughed too, and that sound—it was like a melody that settled right under Bucky’s skin, making him feel warm in a way he hadn’t in a long time. He stole a glance at you again, just for a second, and you were looking right at him. That smile on your face, the one that had been seared into his memory from the moment you’d met.

“Let me guess,” you said, eyes twinkling, “you didn’t let him win this time either?”

Bucky’s lips twitched, almost into a smile, but he stopped himself. “Nope.”

“Good,” you replied, your voice soft again, almost as if you were relieved. “Can’t let Cap off easy.”

It was such a simple thing to say, but it hit Bucky harder than he’d expected. You cared. Not just in the way you handed out snacks and drinks after training or smiled when they passed by, but genuinely cared. For him. For Steve. And maybe, just maybe, that meant you’d be willing to see something more in him than he saw in himself.

The silence between you wasn’t awkward, but it was thick with unspoken words. Bucky could feel it. He wanted to reach out, say something—anything—but the words lodged themselves in his throat, like they always did when it came to you.

For a moment, Bucky let himself wonder what it would be like—if he could let himself believe he was worthy of you. Of someone so full of light and warmth, when all he felt was the shadows of his past.

But then the doubt crept back in, and he looked away again. He couldn’t let himself get too close. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could manage without giving too much away.

You didn’t push him, though. You never did. You just smiled again and settled into the couch beside him, watching the movie like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And for a fleeting moment, Bucky let himself pretend that it was.

The training room echoes with the sharp sound of fists hitting metal, the rhythmic thud of boots against the mat, and the occasional grunt of exertion. Bucky and Steve were sparring again; the same routine they'd run through countless times. It usually helped Bucky clear his mind, focus his energy on something physical, something he could control. But today, it was different.

“Come on, Buck, focus,” Steve says as he circles around, hands up and ready. His movements were fluid, precise. He was always like that—disciplined, unshakable. Bucky was too, usually. But not today.

His thoughts kept drifting, unbidden, back to you.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how close you had been on the couch last night, the way your voice had softened when you’d spoken to him, like you saw something in him that no one else did. That smile. It was haunting him in the best way.

As if to taunt him farther, his mind flashes with the image of you in your sundress, the way it swayed around the soft skin of your thighs.

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice cut through his reverie, but not fast enough.

Distracted, Bucky moves just a second too late. He swings wide, and Steve, quicker than ever, ducked under his arm and swept his legs out from under him. Before Bucky could react, he hit the mat hard, air leaving his lungs in a sharp gasp.

“Damn it,” Bucky growles, more at himself than at Steve. He stays on the floor for a moment, trying to shake the thoughts of you from his mind. He shouldn’t be getting distracted like this. Not during a sparring session. Not ever.

Steve stands over him, offering a hand, his brow furrowed in concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky grumbles, accepting the hand and letting Steve pull him back to his feet. His ribs ache from the fall, but it wasn’t anything serious. It was more the embarrassment that stung. Bucky didn’t like feeling off his game, and lately, thinking about you was doing just that.

“You weren’t focused,” Steve says, stepping back into position. It wasn’t a question.

Bucky wiped the sweat from his brow, shaking out his arms as if that could somehow reset his mind. “I’m fine. Let’s go again.”

Steve hesitates for a second, then nods, getting back into stance. He could tell something was on Bucky’s mind, but he wasn’t going to push. At least, not right now. Steve knew when to back off, and when to press—though Bucky had a feeling that conversation would come soon enough.

They start again, trading punches and dodges, but Bucky couldn’t shake the lingering thoughts of you. The way you made him feel—safe, seen. The way you’d praise him. God… the way you’d tell him he did a good job after training or a mission,

Just for a second, his mind drifts again— Your pretty eyes, the way they’d look at him like he was something amazing, the smile you’d give him and then he wonders what your face would look like as he dives down deep between your thighs-

Steve’s fist came in fast, and though Bucky manages to block it, he doesn’t account for the follow-up. Steve's knee connects with his side, hitting just below his ribs with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

Bucky staggers back, holding his side with a grimace.

“Whoa, Buck!” Steve stops immediately, hands out in concern. “You good?”

Bucky clenches his jaw, nodding, though his side throbbed. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You’re not fine,” Steve replies, taking a step forward, but Bucky waves him off, frustrated with himself more than anything.

“I said I’m fine,” Bucky snaps, turning away for a moment to catch his breath. He hates this. Hates how easily you get into his head, how much he let himself think about you when he was supposed to be focused. It wasn’t like him to get distracted, especially not in a fight.

Steve gives him a long, knowing look. He wasn’t pushing the subject yet, but Bucky could see it in his eyes—Steve had noticed something. And knowing Steve, it wouldn’t be long before he asked about it.

Steve lets out a sigh, shaking his head. “You need to go get that checked out.” He motions to the cut on Bucky’s cheek and his ribs.

“I said I’m fine,” Bucky mutters.

Steve doesn’t budge. “Buck, if you don’t get that cleaned up, it’s going to get worse. You’re already bruised, and that cut—” He gestured to Bucky’s face. “—needs to be looked at.”

Bucky was about to argue again when Steve adds, with a pointed look, “Go see her.”

He blinks, his heart suddenly beating faster in his chest. “What?”

“Go see her,” Steve repeats, his voice calm but insistent. “You know she can patch you up. She always does.”

Bucky opens his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. You always did take care of them after training, offering vitamin drinks or snacks, your touch gentle and your presence calming.

“I don’t need—” Bucky begins, but Steve cuts him off with a significant look.

“Buck, you’re hurt. Let her help you. Besides, we both know she’d want to,” Steve says, his tone softening as he rests a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “She cares, man. And you’re not doing yourself any favours by pretending you don’t need her.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, his chest tight with a mix of frustration and something else he couldn’t quite name. The truth was, he did want to go to you.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky nods, finally relenting. “Fine.”

Steve smiles, patting him on the shoulder. “Good. Now go get cleaned up. I’ll finish up here.”

Bucky hesitates for a second before turning to leave the training room, his side still aching from the hit.

All he knew was that when he saw you, when you smiled at him with that gentle, understanding look in your eyes, it was going to make it that much harder to keep pretending he didn’t feel anything.

Bucky’s footsteps echo softly through the hall as he makes his way to the infirmary. When he reaches the infirmary door, he gives a soft knock before stepping inside.

You’re there, sitting at your desk with one thigh crossed elegantly over the other, your attention focused on some paperwork in front of you. You’re dressed in your usual professional attire—a fitted dress that hugs your form just enough to hint at your curves beneath your white lab coat. The subtle click of your black heels against the floor when you shift is a small, but noticeable, sound that makes Bucky's heart beat a little faster.

You look up when you hear him enter, that sweet, welcoming smile appearing almost instantly. “Bucky,” you greet warmly, your voice soft. “What brings you in? Did you and Steve go a little too hard today?”

For a second, Bucky just stands there, distracted by how you look. His heart skips a beat as he takes in the sight of you. He notices, maybe for the first time, how the hem of your dress rides up slightly when you cross your legs. He forces himself to look away before you catch him staring.

“Uh, yeah,” he mutters, gesturing vaguely to the cut on his face. “Just a cut… and maybe some bruised ribs.”

You arch an eyebrow, your smile turning a little coy. “Only maybe bruised ribs? Sounds like you need me to take a closer look.”

Bucky blinks, heat creeping up his neck as he tries to decide whether he’s imagining the playful tone in your voice or if it’s actually there. He clears his throat. “Yeah… probably.”

With that, you uncross your legs and stand up, heels clicking softly against the tile floor as you walk over to him. Your movements are graceful, confident, and Bucky feels his pulse quicken as you draw closer. There’s something about the way you carry yourself today—calm, collected, but with an air of subtle suggestion that makes him feel off balance.

You stand just inches away from him, reaching up to gently tilt his chin up so you can inspect the cut above his eyebrow. Your fingers are cool against his sweaty skin, and Bucky freezes, his breath catching in his throat.

“It’s not deep,” you murmur “But it’s a little more than a scratch. Seems like you need my magic touch~” you wiggle your fingers and Bucky bites back a groan at the subtle implication.

Before Bucky can respond, you place your hand gently over the wound, and he feels a soft, warm tingling sensation spread across his skin. Your healing powers are subtle but effective, and within seconds, the pain is gone, the cut already closing up beneath your touch. He’s experienced your abilities before, but every time he feels a spark from your touch, it’s a simple move but he craves more.

“There we go,” you say softly, removing your hand from his face. Your fingers linger a little longer than usual, trailing down his jaw ever so slightly before you step back, your eyes locking with his for a brief moment.

Bucky swallows hard, trying to shake off the heat rising in his chest. He’s probably imagining it—just reading too much into things. You’re always sweet, always kind and innocent.

Your gaze drops to his side, and you gently brush your hand over his ribs. “Lift your shirt for me?” you ask, your voice light but carrying a tone of suggestion that makes Bucky’s heart skip a beat.

He hesitates for a second, then does as you ask, pulling up his shirt to reveal the dark bruise spreading along his ribs. You make a soft sound of sympathy, a small pout forming on your lips as your pretty eyes lock with his for a moment. You look back down, your fingers grazing his skin as you crouch slightly to get a closer look.

“You really got hit hard,” you murmur, your tone carrying a note of concern but it switches up subtly as you carry on: “Good thing I can take care of you.”

Bucky’s breath hitches. Did he hear that right? Is there something more in your words? You were just talking about the injury right? The way you said it, the way you moved—it feels almost sinful in a way he’s not used to, at least not from you. He tries to keep his focus, but with you this close, your fingers trailing lightly over his bruised skin, it’s damn near impossible.

You place your hand gently over his ribs, your touch soft but firm as you close your eyes for a moment, focusing on healing the injury. Bucky feels the familiar warmth of your powers again, spreading through his body like a gentle wave. The pain begins to melt away, the bruise slowly fading beneath your hand.

“There,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “All better.”

But your hand doesn’t move right away. Instead, it lingers on his ribs for a second too long, your fingertips brushing the edge of his abdomen in a way that makes his breath catch. Then, just as he’s about to say something—anything—you pull away, turning to your desk, palms flat and bending as if you’re looking for something. Bucky’s mind flashes to pulling up your dress and fucking you senseless then and there, his metal hand clenches and he shakes the thought away.

Bucky exhales slowly, trying to calm the sudden storm in his chest. He has to be imagining it, right? You’re just being your usual caring self- but that touch felt different. Everything you’re doing feels different. More intentional. And the way you’d looked at him just now—

He notices you didn’t actually pick anything up from the desk after you’d bent over it a little.

“Alright, just one last check,” you say as you come back to stand in front of him, a small, almost playful smile on your lips. “Let me make sure everything else is fine.” You reach up, your hand lightly brushing against his neck as if you’re checking for tension or soreness. But then, your fingers linger—soft and warm against his skin, trailing slowly down to his collarbone. The touch is innocent enough, but there’s something in the way you do it that makes Bucky’s entire body tense.

You meet his eyes, your expression still sweet and professional, but there’s a hint of something more—something almost teasing in the way you hold his gaze. “Hmm, seems like you’re all healed up,” you murmur, your voice soft but suggestive in a way that makes his pulse race.

Bucky swallows, his throat suddenly dry as he stares at you. For a moment, he can’t move, can’t speak—stuck between the need to figure out if what he’s feeling is real or just in his head. He tries to convince himself it’s all innocent, but the way your hand lingers on his neck, the way your eyes flicker to his lips for the briefest of moments… it leaves him wondering if you aren’t quite as innocent as he thought.

You finally step back, that same sweet smile on your face as if nothing happened. “Take it easy, alright? Don’t push yourself too hard next time.”

Bucky nods, his voice hoarse when he finally speaks. “Yeah… thanks.”

You tilt your head, your smile widening just a little. “Anytime.” You sit down on your chair again, crossing one thigh over the other, it seemed deliberate.

You rest a pencil on your lower lip, teeth grazing it just slightly, pretty eyes on him. Bucky draws in a breath and feels a problem growing between his legs. He spins around to the door, hoping you don’t notice.

As Bucky begins leave you call out once more: “Let me know if you need me Bucky~ you can always come to me”

As Bucky leaves the infirmary, his mind spins. He came in with injuries, but now he has a different kind of problem, he attempts to calm down, the hardness in his pants making it hard to think. Something has shifted between you two, and whether it’s real or just in his imagination, Bucky can’t help but think back to it all. Did you want him too?

That night, Bucky stares at his ceiling, mind flashing back to you at your desk. Why didn’t you pick anything up? Did you forget what you were looking for? The look in your eyes told him you must’ve known what was going through his head.

He groans and pushes his face into his pillow, he thinks back to something that had happened a few days ago. You were giving out some sort of vitamin pill to everyone, when you’d leaned in, lips near his ear as you whispered:

“I saved you the last cherry flavoured one, don’t tell anyone” before winking slightly.

He shivers at the memory; he could smell every inch of you when you leaned in.

He grunts and pushes his face farther into the pillow. Why did you always save the good things for him? Was it on purpose? Whenever you baked you’d give him first pick- he thought you were just being nice, the sweet girl they all know. But the more he thinks about you the more he notices those little things.

Before he had even registered what he was doing, he was standing and making his way to your rooms. You did say he could always come to you. Bucky freezes outside the door when he realises where he was and what he was doing. Was he crazy? How could he come up with an excuse for being at your door at eleven at night? Before he can change his mind and turn around your door opens. There you stood wearing nothing but a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top- with no bra.

Bucky freezes, his breath catching in his throat as his gaze locks on you. The soft glow of your bedside lamp spills over your frame, highlighting the way your sleep shorts hug your hips and your tank top clings to your chest. His mouth goes dry.

You blink at him. “Bucky?” your voice is soft, a hint of curiosity laced in your tone. “Is everything okay? F.R.I.D.A.Y told me you were stood outside my door.

For a moment, all he can do is stare. He knows he should say something, anything, but his mind is scrambling for an excuse—an explanation for why he’s standing at your door in the middle of the night. His thoughts drift back to your touch earlier, the brush of your hand on his neck, and the memory of your lips near his ear just days ago.

You tilt your head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips, and Bucky swears there’s something teasing in your expression. You step aside, opening the door wider as if you’re inviting him in. “You didn’t have to knock, you know,” you say with that same sweetness. “You can always come to me.”

His heart pounds in his chest, loud enough that he wonders if you can hear it. He swallows, trying to push down the tension, but something in your eyes—something about the way you're looking at him—has his feet moving before his brain catches up.

He steps over the threshold.

Bucky steps inside, the door clicking shut softly behind him. The room is dim, and the soft scent of your perfume lingers in the air, teasing his senses. He watches you as you turn back toward him, your smile still warm, still innocent—at least on the surface.

“So…” you say, your voice soft as you walk a little closer to him, “What brings you here so late, Bucky?” There’s a hint of playfulness in your tone, like you already know the answer but want to hear him say it.

He shifts awkwardly, his eyes darting away from yours. “I… uh, I couldn’t sleep.” His voice comes out rougher than he intended.

“We both know my healing powers can’t help you sleep Bucky. So what’s up with you coming to see lil’. ol’. Me.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but no words come out. His mind is racing—unsure if you're playing a game or if he’s just reading too much into it. His eyes flick down to your tank top, the way it clings to you, the coolness from the hallway had made hard peaks appear on your chest he then glances back to your face. You’re watching him carefully, that same playful glint in your eyes.

You tilt your head slightly, voice soft but teasing. “You’ve been thinking a lot lately, haven’t you?” Your fingers brush lightly against his arm, sending a shiver through him. “About me?”

Bucky feels his pulse quicken. He’s certain now—there’s no way he’s imagining it.

“I—” He swallows hard, trying to find the right words. But before he can, you step even closer, your body inches from his now, your hand lingering on his arm.

“You think I didn’t notice?” You ask sweetly

Bucky’s breath hitches as your words sink in, and his chest tightens, the space between you suddenly feeling far too small. His mind is racing, but his body is rooted in place, drawn to you in a way he can’t explain. He tries to speak, to form some kind of coherent response, but his voice fails him.

“You think I didn’t notice?” you ask again, your voice low, sweet, but with a teasing edge that makes Bucky’s heart race. Your hand is still resting lightly on his arm, your touch burning through his skin despite the fabric of his shirt. The warmth of your body is so close now, and Bucky is overwhelmed by the scent of you—intoxicating, pulling him deeper into the moment. He can feel himself grow hard at the simple touch, he want’s your hands all over him. He just needs to feel you touch him.

He stares down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the way your lips curve into that soft, knowing smile. You tilt your head up slightly, your eyes locking with his, and for a moment, everything else fades away. It’s just the two of you, standing impossibly close, the air between you thick with tension.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, but Bucky hears every word. “I notice where your eyes go when I wear a skirt or dress, if I bend over or wear anything even remotely low cut.”

He swallows hard, his pulse pounding in his ears. He wants to say something, to explain himself, to apologize, but he can’t—because the truth is, you’re right. He has been looking at you, watching you, craving your presence without ever fully admitting it to himself.

You shift even closer, your chest almost brushing against his, and Bucky’s breath catches as your fingers slowly trail up his arm, lingering at his shoulder. His heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest, and he’s not sure how much longer he can keep control of himself. The way you’re looking at him, your lips parted slightly, your eyes holding his like they’re daring him to make the next move…

He’s losing it.

“You don’t have to hide it,” you whisper, your voice laced with that same soft, teasing edge. Your hand moves up to his neck now, your fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just below his jaw. “You can tell me what you want, Bucky…”

He whines.

Before the embarrassment can hit him you let out a low groan at the sound. “Fuck…”

Bucky’s breath comes out in a shudder, his self-control hanging by a thread. He feels the warmth of your hand against his neck, the way your touch lingers just a second too long, and it sends a wave of heat rushing through him.

He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re already moving, closing the last bit of space between you. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, and Bucky’s resolve crumbles. He can’t hold back anymore.

His hand reaches out almost instinctively, fingers gently curling around your waist, pulling you closer. He leans down, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches from your lips, his heart pounding in his chest.

“You…” His voice is low, strained, as if he’s barely holding on. “You’re driving me crazy, doll.”

You smile, and the look in your eyes—soft, teasing, and just a little wicked—sends him over the edge.

Bucky leans to close the gap but your finger presses against his lips. A frown forms on his face, and then you speak.

“ah ah ah” you shake your head “we ask for what we want”

Bucky mentally scolds himself for not asking, he was in the moment.

“May I kiss you?” he asks.

“Say please” there was an unexpected dominance to your tone, completely wiping out the innocence.

Oh fuck.

Bucky feels himself grow harder at the tone. He’s momentarily stunned. Your pretty eyes are on him, feigning innocence but there’s something sinful hiding in them. His beautiful blue eyes look down at you, filled with need.

“Please?”

You let out a moan at the word, your body heating up, your core dampens your shorts.

“Fuck… Bucky…” You say breathily before you pull him down a little to reach your height and kiss him. It’s gentle, as though you’re teasing him, giving him a glimpse to what he can have. He just needs to ask politely.

“Doll… please… I…” He struggles to get his words out, brain fogged over from all the sensations hitting him at once. You run your hands along his abs and he whines again. The whine shoots straight through you. Bucky Barnes, the worlds most accomplished assassin is whining for you.

“Please what? Good boys use their words.” You say in a sinfully soft voice that sends a shiver down his spine.

“I need… more… please” He whispers your name at the end and you hum, satisfied. You grasp his hand and it feels so good to him. Too good. He follows you as you pull him towards the bed.

“Sit there. Lean against the headboard” you hum and he immediately does as he’s told. Sure, he was a super solider who could overpower you in a second, you were both aware. But you were both also aware that he didn’t want that. He needed you to guide him.

You plant yourself in his lap, straddling him, before letting out a soft hum as you feel his hardness push against your core over your sleep shorts. Bucky lets out a moan at the contact but you’re quick to swallow it with a deep, heated kiss. His hands claw at your hips and you gasp slightly as the metal of his hand touches your skin. He’s quick to pull it away but you’re quicker, gripping his wrist and shaking your head, guiding it back in place.

You continue the kiss, before taking his lower lip in between your teeth. You open your eyes to see his blue ones are locked onto your own in what can only be described as the hottest, neediest way, his pupils dilated. You lick over his lip before your hand snakes around the back of his neck and up to his hair. You gently tug, its light, testing the waters and his lips part, head nodding. You pull his hair back a little harsher and he moans. You laugh, the sound dark and sinful in Bucky’s ears.

Your lips kiss his earlobe. “You like your hair pulled? Dirty boy~”

He moans again and nods, hands gripping your hips a little harder, pulling you down to grind on him. You make a ‘tsk’ sound and he freezes, quickly remembering your rule.

You get off him and he groans at the loss of contact, his needy eyes falling onto you. You slowly pull down your shorts, revealing your core to him. His breathing quickens, cock twitching and straining against his sweatpants.

“Take your clothes off, honey” your sultry voice fills his ears and he does so immediately, stripping off his shirt first, exposing the honey toned abs with numerous scars here and there. He is beautiful and you let it show on your face. He drags down his sweatpants leaving him in his grey boxers. There’s a dark damp spot on them from his arousal, pre-cum weeping through from the tip. You make a gesture for him to keep going and he obliges, dragging the boxers down. He stands there, glorious cock hard against his abdomen, looking at you, waiting for your next command.

“What do you want? You just need to ask” You inquire, goading him to tell you.

He swallows, looking down at your dripping core and then back to his cock. You fully expect him to ask to fuck you based on his expression, but he shocks you.

“Can I taste you please?”

Your eyes widen briefly, stunned at his choice.

“I’m sorry— if you don’t want—“ He begins to speak but you cut him off with a finger to your lips and standing up. You slowly peel off your shorts, leaning against the wall.

“You asked me so nicely.” You beckon him and the speed in which he’s on his knees in front of you has your legs weak. His hands skim over your thighs, leaving Goosebumps in their wake. “Is this what you want?”

Bucky looks up at you with desperate eyes, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Yes, please” His voice is hoarse.

“You wanna make me feel good?” You coo.

Bucky groans, his hands gripping your thighs a little. “More than anything” He confirms.

You nod, giving your permission and he settles in between your thighs. He grasps your ass, pulling you up so your legs are over his shoulders, his head cradled by your thighs. You’re momentarily stunned, briefly forgetting he’s a super soldier with insane strength. The thought goes right to your core. Your back is against the wall, his hands still firm on your ass, keeping you in place. Bucky’s breath ghosts across your core before he looks up at you. The sight was nearly enough to make you come. With a firm squeeze on your ass, he dives in, licking a stripe up your lips, making you gasp and weave your fingers through his hair. He groans and begins to lap at your clit like a man starved. He occasionally moans and groans, letting you know how much he’s enjoying being between your legs.

“Bucky— oh my god” You moan out. This only drives him more, he focuses his tongue on your bundle of nerves and you see stars.

He is good at this.

Really fucking good.

Too good?

It doesn’t take you long to come at all, you grasp his hair tighter, thighs squeezing around his head in a way that makes his cock twitch against his abdomen. He rides you through your orgasm until you’re squirming and too sensitive.

He pulls back, holding you up still, and looks into your eyes. The lower part of his face is sinfully wet, he gives you a charming smile, eyes still betraying his neediness.

“You did so well… so good for me…” You breathe out and a strangled noise escapes him.

A praise kink.

“You did so so good for me Bucky~ You deserve a reward” You coo, getting off his shoulders and standing up. You tilt his head up with your finger. “You want a reward baby?”

Bucky lets out a breathy noise and nods.

“What do you want? I’ll give you whatever you want”

Bucky Looks up at you, standing up. He shocked you again.

“Please doll… sit on my face… if… you want…” He adds the last part, unsure. All he knows is that being in between your thighs, hearing you, feeling you, giving you pleasure is all he wants right now.

You bite back a groan and nod, watching him scramble to the bed, laying on his back. He’s gloriously naked, thick cock incredibly hard and standing to attention. You crawl up his body, making sure to brush up against his length to hear those delicious whines from him. His hips buck a few times against you and then you’re settled just above his face. You look down at him and he looks ravenous— His desperate eyes flicking from your core to your face. His hands keep flexing as he struggles, wanting nothing more than to pull you down onto his face and hold you there until he can’t breathe.

“You can touch me Buck” you say softly and his hands hesitantly settle on your hips. He pauses before it eventually becomes too much and pulls you down onto his face, groaning at the impact. You don’t move much, assuming he wants to take the lead when he speaks, muffled against your core.

You giggle and look at him innocently. “Sorry honey what was that? I can’t understand you~”

His eyes grow even more needy, looking up at you. He speaks, muffled again before he decided to lift you up just enough to speak.

“Move— please. Grind on my face. Use me to come please”

How could you say no to such a beautiful request?

You settle back down and rock your hips. His tongue moves with the same finesse and you can’t help but wonder if he’s tired. He doesn’t look tired. You move his arms so he’s holding them up and you entwine your fingers, using his arms to keep you upright, moving against him. His eyes are fluttering shut in pleasure and you groan. You make quick work of your shirt, leaving you both naked now.

“Eyes open Bucky~ I thought you wanted to see what you do to me?~” You tease.

His eyes shoot open again, pupils dilated, his eyes more black than blue now.

“Good~ So good to me” You breathe out and he moans against you, making you gasp and your hips stutter. You grip his hands tighter. His pretty eyes are begging you to come and you do, thighs once again squeezing around his head, making him feel dizzy. Your hips are bucking against his face not even thinking about his breathing— but that isn’t on Bucky’s mind either. You ride out your orgasm and get off him, falling on your back, breathing erratic.

Bucky lays there with the lower half of his face wet, stubble and all. His breathing is erratic and his cock is painfully hard against his abdomen.

“Holy shit Bucky” You huff out and a hoarse moan leaves his mouth.

He slots himself between your legs, kissing your shoulder, slowly moving down your body until he’s at your hip, kissing it softly.

“You are so beautiful doll” His eyes are sincere and your cheeks feel hot at the compliment. “One more time? Please?” He asks, eyes pleading.

Sweet mother of Jesus.

“You want— you seriously— you want to eat me out again?” Your eyes are wide.

Bucky nods, nuzzling and kissing your thigh before focusing on your face again. “And to fuck you with my fingers if that’s alright with you doll?”

Sweet. Mother. Of. Jesus.

Your brain short circuits for a moment at the words leaving his mouth and you mindlessly nod, your gaze heated and intense.

He runs a finger along your dripping core and he moans. Was he really getting this much pleasure? You hadn’t even touched him at all. He teases your entrance before sinking a finger in softly. He hisses at how tight it is, his cock twitching. You let out a soft breathy moan at the feeling, instinctively reaching for his hair. Bucky peppers kisses on your thighs before he begins pumping his finger.

It’s not enough.

“More” You demand, gripping his hair. Bucky is happy to oblige, pushing a second finger in, your toes curling. “oh god yes”

Bucky begins to curl his fingers, brushing up against your sweet spot as he increases his pace a fraction and you cry out.

“Am I doing good?” His husky voice asks, desperate for praise.

“So good baby, so fucking good. You’re so good to me” You moan out and he snaps, thrusting his fingers into you with a little more force and latching his mouth onto your clit. You’re so sensitive at this point you let out a whine, your words not coherent. You didn’t even know it was possible to come this many times before being fucked. The coil in your stomach feels more intense than you have ever felt before, you tighten around his fingers and before you could warn him, he pulls away, watching the liquid squirt from you in awe. You, on the other hand are glassy eyed and trembling afterwards.

Bucky gives you a few minutes to settle before he brings himself back up to your face, you pull him in for a messy kiss. His cock is settled on your thigh, Bucky whines into the kiss and you can feel him jutting against it. You grasp his chin as he kisses you, feeling his length as he desperately claims whatever friction he can get.

Bucky is surprised at himself. There has never been a time in his life where he has felt the need to dry hump a woman. But you have the best ways of bringing new feelings and actions out of him.

“Please” He says softly.

“Oh you’re so worked up honey. After doing such a good job. Take what you want Bucky” you coo, stroking his cheek and he leans into it before settling his hips between your legs.

“Can I… are you okay if I…” He begins and you nod.

“You’ve more than earned it” You rake your hands through his hair, nails scratching his scalp.

In an attempt to ground himself, He places his hands on your headboard, letting you guide his cock into place. He pushes in and groans, immediately shattering the headboard where his hands were.

Oh lord.

You squeeze around him and let out a breathy, aroused giggle. Bucky on the other hand looks mortified.

“Oh my god doll I am so sorry—“ He goes to pull out of you but you grasp his arms and shake your head. He doesn’t take much convincing before he pushes into you fully. He’s panting and rests his forehead on yours. Even with the fingers stretching you earlier, you need to adjust. The super solider cock is no joke.

You moan encouragingly in his ear and he pulls back softly before pushing back in. Your eyes flutter and Bucky has his trained solely on you and your reactions.

“Am I hurting you, doll?” He asks, breathily, stopping his motions.

You shake your head immediately. “Please don’t stop”

He keeps his strength in check, bracing on the half broken headboard again, his hands slotting into the Bucky sized hand holes in them. He uses a leisurely pace that does hit the spot, but it’s not quite enough. You could tell he was holding back for your sake but you needed to see just how much he needed you.

“Harder Bucky~ Fuck. I can take it— please”

The headboard crushes even more at your words, your legs were wound around his hips, he leans forward, wrapping his arms around you, his face buried in your neck as he desperately thrusts into you. It’s hard and fast, a string of moans and curses leaving your mouth as you can’t move in his grip, all you can do is take it. You’re seeing stars now, as Bucky is whining and muttering praises in your ear.

“You feel so good doll”

“I would do this forever… beautiful beautiful girl”

And lastly:

“Oh god thank you” He repeats the phrase a few times and your head spins.

He’s fucking thanking you.

You manage to moan out a few praises that are punctuated by his sharp needy thrusts. He pulls his face away from his neck when he’s close. You can see it on his face, begging you to come first. He slips his metal hand down to your clit, stroking the already sensitive bundle of nerves and your eyes widen at the coolness against it.

“Please come” He moans and it doesn’t take you long to oblige his plea, the metal hand on your clit, the whines from Bucky and his cock hitting you deep pushes you over the edge and you come, clenching him hard.

“You’re so beautiful” He says in awe. “Please can I come— please doll” Bucky’s thrusts are faltering.

“fill me up Bucky~” You moan and that’s all it takes, his thrusts become harder, your body jolting from the force, you’ll feel this in your hips in the morning. You could always heal it away. But you probably won’t. You place a hand over his neck holding it loosely, your other hand raking through his hair.

Bucky thrusts into you hard and deep, with hoarse moans of thank you as he comes inside you, filling you up. He simply stays inside you after, his body moving with his deep ragged breaths before he collapses on top of you, making sure to use some strength to stop him crushing you. You stroke his hair, muttering soft praises.

He rolls off you, his honey toned skin covered in a sheen of sweat that made him look godly. Your legs are jelly; you aren’t even sure you can use them for the next few days. Bucky stands and walks to your bathroom, giving you the perfect view of his sculpted ass and returns a few moments later with a warm wet cloth to clean you up with.

When the both of you are cleaned up, Bucky begins to wipe away the crushed pieces of headboard from your bed sheepishly.

“Sorry doll” He says quietly.

“It’s okay” You assure. “It was hot. Made me feel like Bella Swan” You joke.

Bucky looks at you, not understanding the reference.

“From Twi… never mind” You hum, helping to brush off the little pieces of wood. He lays back down and pulls you into his arms.

“Doll… I… I have never felt like that before. What did you do to me? I am under a spell when it comes to you.”

You yawn and let out a sleepy laugh. “You’re telling me. I don’t think I could sleep with a regular dude again after that”

It’s not long until exhaustion rushes through you. Super solider stamina is no joke. You drift off, head on his chest. Bucky watches the soft rise and fall of your chest, your soft snores filling the room.

And for the first time in what feels like forever; Bucky has a deep, dreamless sleep. His nightmares paused as he slumbers beside your soft, warm body.

It’s late when Bucky wakes up. Your side of the bed is cold. He glances at the clock on his phone, reading 11:07am, and a text from you, timestamped two hours ago:

‘Morning sleepy head. I didn’t wanna wake you. You looked too comfortable ;)’

He smiles at the text and looks for his clothes, only to find you must have taken a trip to his room to grab some fresh clothes. There is a towel on a chair with a new set of clean clothes and a pair of boxers.

When he’s all cleaned up and dressed he makes his way to the kitchen. You’re talking to Wanda, Steve and Sam.

“Bucky good morning!” Your sweet voice drifts over to him. “You slept in late. Are you feeling okay? Late night?” It’s an innocent question, no one bats an eyelash at it. You’re the healer of the team, and you’re concerned. But Bucky bites back a groan at the implications they both know is behind the sweet words.

Before Bucky can respond, Tony walks in.

“Hey Hippocrates” Tony calls out to you. “Why did F.R.I.D.A.Y tell me you needed a new headboard for your bed?

Oops.

-END-

4K notes · View notes

ilovolderman · 9 days ago

Text

You Said What?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You accidentaly call Bucky babe during a mission briefing in front of the whole team.

Word Count: 506

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating

A/N: This is a short story that came to my mind while I was studying, so I had to write it down. Hope you like it :)

Everyone’s crowded around the mission table. It’s too early, someone definitely stole your last coffee, and you're still rubbing sleep out of your eyes when Steve starts explaining the recon plan with way too many acronyms.

Bucky’s next to you, legs slightly touching, flipping a pen between his fingers like he’s not just waiting for a reason to pull your chair closer. He’s staring straight ahead like a good soldier, but you catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye every time your knee bounces.

You're trying to pay attention. Something about rooftops, safehouses, surveillance drones and you’re barely following when—

“…and Barnes, you’ll be on overwatch with Y/N.”

And you, running on 2 hours of sleep and one granola bar, lean toward Bucky without thinking.

“Did you hear that, babe?”

Silence.

Cold. Dead. Silence.

Everyone looks at you.

Nat squints. Sam raises both eyebrows so high they disappear into his hairline. Peter drops his pen. Steve, bless his heart, blinks like someone just smacked him with a frisbee.

Bucky doesn’t breathe. Your soul detaches from your body, floats toward the ceiling, and screams.

You scramble. “I—I said bro. Like, ‘Did you hear that, bro?’ That’s what I said. Like a…cool, soldier-y nickname. Haha.”

The room is quiet again. No one believes you. Especially not Sam. “You said babe. You said it casually.”

Bucky doesn’t even look at you. He’s locked in full Winter Soldier mode, eyes fixed on a random spot on the wall like he’s trying to transcend to another timeline.

“I think she said brrr,” Bucky offers, stone-faced. “She’s cold.”

“She’s wearing a hoodie,” Peter mutters.

You laugh way too loud. “It’s the energy in here. Very chilly.”

Bucky leans back in his chair, arms crossed, staring straight ahead like if he makes direct eye contact with anyone he’ll combust.

Steve slowly turns to him. “Barnes?”

“…Yeah?”

“You cold too?”

Bucky shrugs. “Freezing.”

You know he’s going to murder you in the hallway. Probably kiss you breathless after. But first—death.

Steve stares a moment longer. Then—mercifully—moves on. But the damage is done.

Nat doesn’t. “So… bro, huh?”

You glare at her.

Later, when the meeting is already over, you burst in Bucky's room, already talking. “I told you this would happen, I told you I’d forget—”

Bucky slams the door shut and corners you. “You said babe. In front of Rogers.”

You bury your face in your hands. “I wanna crawl inside a ventilation shaft and disappear.”

He chuckles—actually chuckles—and pulls your hands away.

“Wanna know a secret?” he murmurs, leaning in.

“…What?”

“I liked it.”

You blink up at him. “You liked almost being exposed?”

“No,” he says, brushing his nose against yours. “I liked hearing you call me babe.”

Your heart stutters.

“…Say it again.”

You grin. “Babe?”

Then he kisses you like the whole building isn’t even real. Like the only thing in the universe is your mouth and his hands and the way you said it without even realizing.

A/N: i just wrote a lil part 2 about them, it’s not a direct sequel but if you feel like cheking out, here it is. hope you like it, and thanks for reading <3

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vintagebuckybarnes · 5 months ago

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In Vino Veritas

Pairing → Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Lab Assistant! Female! Reader

Total Wordcount → 3.5K

Summary → It all started when you and the Avengers enjoyed drinks during the afterparty back at the Avengers Tower. There, Tony revealed one of your deepest secrets, and even though you wish it had never come to light at first, you’re glad it did when the man you love stands on your doorstep, ready to start the rest of your life together.

Tags & Warnings → Semi-canon compliant, Avenger! Bucky Barnes, Female! Reader, Tony’s Lab Assistant! Reader, Bucky’s past as TWS is mentioned, emotional hurt/comfort, mutual pining, some cursing, and explicit sexual content.

Tags: Smut → Grinding, begging, some dirty talk, praise, teasing Bucky, protected sex, cowgirl position.

Story Rating → Explicit

Author’s Note → This story is beta'd by the wonderful @late-to-the-party-81, and I cannot thank you enough for that. I hope you'll all enjoy my story, which is filled with some angst, lots of fluff, and some smut to top it all off! 💜

Writing Prompts @fandom-free-bingo Bug Edition → “There is no us.” | Riding | In vino veritas | “Touch me.” @fandom-free-bingo Medical Edition → Crush at first sight @julybreakbingo Post-JBB → Being confronted about their feelings for another

Tags List → If you’d like to be tagged in my stories, you can add yourself to my tag list here.

The evening starts fine, good, even. But it all takes an unexpected turn when the man you work for - Tony Stark - reveals your secret. A secret that you’d only recently revealed to him.

Earlier that day, you’d spotted Bucky as he was working out and from that moment on your mind has been with him instead of your usual work and tasks.

“Hello, Y/N? Anyone home in there?” Tony asks as he lays a hand on your shoulder, making you jump. You look up at him with a worried look while he smiles back at you with a kind expression. A soft sigh escapes your lips as the thoughts in your head wander off again, specifically how his back looked underneath the tank top he wore in the gym while doing squats. Not only that, but you also can’t stop thinking about the way his ass looked in the sweatpants he wore. In a word, magnificent.

“Is everything okay with you? You’ve been a bit off your game today.” As Tony sits next to you, you put down the screwdriver you were holding - the one he asked you three times to pass to him - before turning to face him, your gaze focusing somewhere on the wall behind him. For a moment, there’s a silence between you as you gather the courage to tell him what’s been on your mind.

“Well, uhm- There’s something, or someone, that I can’t stop thinking about, and it’s taking over my mind every second of every day. It- It’s Bucky,” you say almost in a whisper. For a few seconds, Tony is completely silent as he lets the thought of you having a crush on one of his fellow Avengers sit in his mind. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he reaches out for your hand and takes it between his warm ones.

“You know that I’ll always support you in everything, right? I supported you when you expressed your desire to halt your life as an Avenger and retrain as my lab technician, and I supported you when you moved out of Avengers Tower to have your own home with more peace. This is not going to be any different. All I’m hoping for is that he will make you the happiest and best version of you, as you deserve nothing less.”

Tears brim at your waterline as Tony tells you this, and even though you deeply appreciate him, his words, and everything he has done for you, you can’t help but still feel a bit… odd about the fact you told him you’re having a crush on Bucky. That you have a crush on the man who was once the most feared assassin in the world under the hands of HYDRA.

“Now, can you hand me that screwdriver before your thoughts wander off to him again?” your boss asks in a teasing tone, making you smile as you grab it and hand it to him. Somehow, he always seems to know the right thing to say, and it's exactly why you enjoy spending time by his side while learning everything there is to know about his lab and what's going on in there.

Just as you’re about to get comfortable with another drink in your hand, you meet the gaze of the man you’re crushing on, and you feel heat coursing through your veins. The lines around his deep blue eyes intensify as he smiles at you, his attention making every last thought in your brain disappear. You’re so captivated by how Bucky looks at you that you miss your seat as you sit down. However, before you fall, you’re caught by a pair of solid arms that prevent you from hitting the floor.

“Careful there, Little One,” Thor says in his deep voice, his accent always making the butterflies in your stomach go wild. Even though you’d known Thor since you were young, you couldn’t help but get a little flustered by the nickname, and he smiled at you as you were finally sitting on the chair you intended to use.

“Thank you, Thor,” you whisper before sipping your cocktail. Around you, the conversations are starting to become a little blurry as you focus on Bucky and everything he has to say, his lips forming around the words effortlessly. When you suddenly feel a little shove against your arm, you yelp, making everyone go silent as they look at you.

“What did you do that for?!” you ask Thor in a low voice, but all he does is point to Tony, who obviously has something to say as he’s waving for everyone’s attention. There are moments when you enjoy the fact that alcohol can bring out people’s true feelings or thoughts, also known as in vino veritas, but not now. Oh no, now you wish you could disappear as you listen to the words coming out of Tony’s mouth.

“Guys, you really shouldn’t say this to Bucky or Y/N, but they’re having a massive crush on one another!” Tony says in a loud whispering tone, but what he fails to notice in his inebriated state is that you two are sitting right across from one another, enjoying the afterparty just like everyone else. Or at least, you were enjoying the afterparty until your secret got out.

The glass you were holding falls out of your hand before shattering into pieces on the floor, and your feet carry you as fast as they can away from the party and away from your worst nightmare come true. The music behind you fades away as you turn one corner after another, tears burning in your eyes as the event repeatedly replays in your mind. Your lungs start to burn as you keep running, the stinging feeling in your side increasing as you run out of the Avengers Tower into the night.

Meanwhile, Bucky’s world feels like it has taken a 180-degree turn. Mere minutes ago, he could only fantasize that you could have feelings for him, but now? A wave of disbelief washes over the super soldier, his expression showing pure surprise as he takes the moment in. For him, it was a crush at first sight from the momentyou walked into the training room on your first day. Over the years, his feelings have intensified, although he has only told Steve about his crush - or rather his now deep-rooted love - for you.

And yet, now that the pair of you have been confronted about your feelings for one another, he doesn’t know what to do. He has replayed the moment he’d confess his feelings to you more times than he can count in his mind, and in none of those versions, this is one of the scenarios that had appeared. It’s only when Steve grabs his arm and pulls him away that he seemingly comes back to reality again.

“Bucky, how does Tony know about your crush on Y/N? I mean, I’m, of course, fine with you sharing it, but-”

“I don’t know, Steve, I don’t know, and it kills me,” Bucky says as he runs his fingers through his cropped hair.“Fuck- I was planning on telling her this week but… but now it’s ruined, and I didn’t even get the chance to talk to her, and-” It’s all Bucky can say as he fights the urge to punch the wall with his metal fist, both hands clenched by his side as he tries to regulate his breathing. Without warning, Steve pulls him into a hug, and Bucky’s arms snake around his best friend's waist as his fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise,” Steve whispers, though he’s not entirely sure that’s true because he knows as well as anyone that things don’t always go back to how they were before. Still, Bucky decides to believe him as they stand there for a little while longer, and he soaks in every bit of comfort he can get for now. Lord knows he’s going to need it.

The past few days have been strange, to say the least. You haven’t been to the Avengers Tower since Tony revealed your now not-so-secret crush on the super soldier. You’re afraid of what will happen if you do. This also means you haven’t seen Bucky in a few days, and you miss him. You miss hearing his laugh, and you miss seeing how his mouth turns slightly upward as you hand him one of your baked goods, but most of all, you miss how his arms feel when he pulls you in for a hug.

Just as you’re about to make yourself a cup of tea, you get pulled from your thoughts by a soft but familiar knock on the door; only one thing can make that sound: Bucky’s metal hand knocking against the wood. For a moment, you contemplate your actions, but decide to give him at least a chance to talk, especially as it wasn’t him who laid out your feelings in front of everyone.

“Bucky, hi,” you say softly as you take in his appearance, your heart sinking as you do. It’s evident he hasn’t slept at all the past few days. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he doesn’t look as healthy as usual—more disheveled. The struggles he’s facing are apparent in his entire demeanor, and all you want to do is wrap him up in a warm blanket and cuddle him until the end of time.

“Hi,” he says hoarsely, and you step aside, allowing him to enter your apartment. He’s been here a few times already, and usually there’s a warmth radiating from you and every inch of the little place you call home, but ever since the party, it hasn’t been the same. It isn’t just the apartment, either. You feel different.

“Would you like some tea before we talk?” you ask to break the tension. “I was about to make some.”

He nods at you before wandering further into your apartment, and you head to the kitchen, picking out another mug for Bucky to use. Once he’s caught sight of your couch, he immediately takes a seat, a soft groan audible as he does. There aren’t many places more comfortable than the large couch that’s standing right here in your living room.

When you emerge a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of tea and a plate filled with chocolate chip cookies you baked fresh this morning, Bucky can’t help but smile at you. He gladly takes the tea with one of the cookies, as they’re his favorite, and when you sit down next to him, it feels just like it always has, as if nothing has changed. But you both know it has, and that’s why the super soldier’s now in your living room.

“So…” you start, unsure what to say now that he’s sitting on your couch. Bucky’s eyes are trained on the steaming tea in his hands, his thoughts going a mile a minute as he’s thinking about what he wants to say - other than confessing his love for you.

“So… uhm, we missed seeing you around the Tower,” Bucky starts, though you both know it’s mostly him who has missed seeing you there. You have always been a staple there during his mornings as you make him a cup of coffee, and during movie nights, you were always the one he could sit next to and enjoy the movie, but now that you’re not there, it’s like a piece of soul has left the Tower with you.

“I mean, yeah. It’s been a bit awkward for me to go back after what happened a few days ago,” you tell him, and a shudder of horror runs down your spine at the thought of having to face Tony again. A smile tugs at the corners of Bucky’s lips as he thinks back to what happened that night, a happy memory of your first meeting resurfacing in the back of his mind as he does.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes. I’ve made some chocolate chip cookies, if you want some. However, I should warn you, Tony’s been on the prowl since I took them out of the oven, so I’ll advise you to be quick,” you say with a glare towards Tony, who has been eyeing them up since he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. For the first time in a long time, Bucky showed something akin to a smile, and everyone looked at each other to ensure they saw it, too.

“Thank you,” he says lowly, grabbing one of the smaller ones on the plate, followed by a cup of coffee, before swiftly leaving the kitchen to spend more time in his room. Before Bucky even left the kitchen, Tony was on the cookies as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks, and this time you let him.

“Can I- Is it okay if I tell you something? Because if I don’t say it now, I don’t know if I ever will,” Bucky says softly, and you nod before repositioning yourself so that you’re facing him. His gaze is still trained on his mug as he thinks carefully about his next words, afraid he might accidentally say the wrong thing.

“Tony was right. He is right, actually. When he said, we’re crushing on each other. I’ve been crushing on you since you offered me those chocolate chip cookies when Tony threatened to eat them all before anyone else had a chance to get them. It was like a switch flipped inside me back then, and I haven’t been the same since,” Bucky says, his mouth now in a line as he tells you about his feelings.

“Each time I look at you, it’s like I’m seeing an angel, and every time I hear your voice, it’s like a little piece of my soul is healing, too. I find myself drawn to you in every room and wonder what life has in store for us. But deep down inside, I know there is no ‘us’ yet. But I want there to be us. I want you, Y/N. I want you to be mine, in whatever capacity you’ll have me. If you want to stay friends, that’s okay with me, but if you want more, I’ll happily accept every bit of love you’re willing to offer me.”

Once Bucky’s done, you’re unsure what to say. What to think. What to do. You want to say that the feelings between you are mutual, that you’re in love with him and that you want nothing more than to be his, but something inside you is stopping you. So, instead of saying anything, you place your hand over his flesh limb, and his eyes slip shut at the feeling of your soft fingers against his rough hand.

“Bucky.” His name is a whisper on your lips, but it’s enough to make him look at you, to meet your gaze.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, Bucky carefully put his tea on the coffee table before hauling you onto his lap, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your waist as your lips interlock in a passionate dance. He can’t get enough of your soft mouth slotting together with his and the way his tongue fights for dominance with yours as your fingers dig into his neck. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt a strong connection with someone, and you’re happy to explore it with Bucky.

Your hips grind over his growing length of their own volition,your body looking for any bit of friction it can get. Without warning, one of Bucky’s hands slides lower until he’s cupping your ass, making you gasp into his mouth as a result. Bucky can’t help but smile into the kiss as he pulls you impossibly closer, your legs spreading just a bit further as you sink against his muscular body.

“Hmm, I’ve been wanting this - you - for so long,” he says between the kisses trailing your jaw towards your ear, his teeth nipping on your earlobe as your head lolls to the side. With every passing second, your thoughts are melting away more and more, and all that’s left inside your mind is Bucky. Soon, his other hand joins the first as he helps you grind onto him, a groan falling from his lips as he sets a perfect pace for you both.

“B-Bucky—" his name sounds more like a whine than anything else. “I—I want you.”

“But you already have me, pretty girl, ‘m right here,” he says with a teasing lilt to his voice, his hands continuing to help you grind until you’re a complete mess for him. Your shorts are ruined, your arousal soaking through them and onto the bulge in his black jeans, much to Bucky’s joy. He was wondering what it would take to get you to this point, and it turns out it won’t take much.

He smiles against the skin of your neck, where he’s taking his time to mark you with hickeys and small bitemarks, all of which leave you a bit more of a moaning, begging mess on his lap, much to his pride. When one of your hands moves away from his neck and down his torso, he quickly catches on to what you’re doing. “Someone’s a little impatient today, huh?”

“Yes, oh god, yes! I need you to touch me, Bucky. I want to feel you inside me as you make me fall apart on your cock, and I need you to fuck me like there’s no tomorrow!” Your voice sounds more breathy than usual, but every care you thought you had has gone out the window. All you want is Bucky and his cock to ride, until you’re orgasming so hard and long you can’t remember your name.

“Okay, I will. Don’t you worry about anything, okay? Let me take care of you, and I’ll give you everything you need and more,” he reassures you in a shushing voice. You nod before kissing him again, which immediately deepens before he gently helps you get up, allowing you to take off your panties and shorts, and he can take off his pants and boxershorts, too. As soon as you’re both freed from your last pieces of clothing, you hand him a condom you retrieved from the side table drawer while he took the time to undress himself.

“Hmmm, looks so thick,” you tell him as you look at it with wide eyes, wondering how he’s going to fit inside you as you’re positioning yourself on his lap once more, your legs bracketing his thicks thighs as you get comfortable.

“I know, but I’m gonna go slow. Wouldn’t want to hurt you and your perfect, sweet little pussy.” He smiles as he holds his cock in place, your pliant body sinking onto him slowly as your fingers dig into his shoulders to steady yourself. Your hiss of pleasure is audible and your face contorts at the slight sting of him stretching you, but just like he promised, Bucky is taking it slow to ensure you’ll both have the most amazing first time.

As soon as you’re fully seated on his lap, your body goes limp against him, your face tucked in the crook of his neck as you adjust to his girth, and Bucky places soft kisses on your head while praising you through it all. “You’re doing so well for me, baby. Such a good girl for me, letting me take the lead and giving you exactly what you need.”

A small smile appears on your face as you look up at him with big, doe-like eyes, and he can’t help but smile back as the back of his fingers gently caress your cheek. He may have thought you were beautiful before, but nothing compares to this moment.

“I love you, Y/N, and I promise to take care of you with every fiber of my being,” he whispers, his lips sealing his promise against your cheek. Your eyes fall shut at his words, and his hand moves down your side until it’s on your hip again, ready for you to let him know when you’re good to go. Your bodies work in complete sync with one another with every rise and fall of your chest, and his hands guide you beautifully as you slowly sink and rise on his length.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, and it doesn’t take long for both of you to find your highs for the first time, and they’re serving as a promise of everything else that’s still to come in this lifetime. A few days ago, you and Bucky didn’t even know you felt the same about one another, but now you’re sharing the start of the rest of your lives, and it’s all thanks to Tony. Because without him, you wouldn’t have been able to tell the man of your dreams how much you love him.

Masterlist → Bucky Barnes

GIF: Source → All the other graphics you see are made by @vintagebuckybarnes

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espinosaurusrexex · 5 months ago

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Bucky who starts a purely platonic physical touch giving friendship with reader… until it turns into more

･ﾟ✫* 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ｡✭･ﾟ

It starts off so innocently. Bucky just sat really close to you one day and noticed how the touch of your shoulder on his made him tingly all over.

The same happened when your hand brushed his, or you passed close by, and he caught a whiff of your hair - something that reminds him of the feeling he now seeks out when you’re around.

It’s no secret that either of you have been single a long time with basically no prospects for a future relationship, so no one questions when you and him suddenly hang out more.

He invites you over when you ask him if he was okay, and he realized that his day was in fact crappy and that if you offered to talk to him, he’d tell you all about it.

And when you sit on the sofa listening to Bucky talk, your hand instinctively found his and before Bucky knew it, his head was pressed into your shoulder, your nails raking over his scalp releasing a feeling within him, he can only describe as heavenly.

He loves it when you comfort him, and he loves comforting you, somehow knowing that you need this part of your friendship just as much as he does.

So it becomes a regular thing: when the rest of the team returns home to their spouses after a tiring mission, you and Bucky retreat to either one of your apartments under the pretense of not wanting to be alone.

Of course, neither of you planned for it to become so touchy and intimate... no, that would be insane, right?

It’s a normal afternoon for the two of you, hanging out at your place, a movie playing on TV, Bucky’s head buried in your chest as he lays half on top of you and you with your back against the sofa. Your hand rakes over his hair as his are halfway tugged beneath your body, seeking all the warmth he can get.

The physical touch aspect of your relationship has somehow crossed the lines between friends, but neither of you care. It feels too good to be held and protected to stop.

Bucky hasn't felt the caring touch of a partner in decades and you... well, let's just say that all men before Bucky didn't feel the need to express their love through aftercare - not that Bucky is in any way shape or form about to give said aftercare... no, you are just friends. Just. Friends.

Friends who frequently hide their hands in the other's jacket when the cold catches up to them.

Friends who bury their faces in each other's chest and lap like it is the most normal thing a person can do to another.

Friends who somehow always wonder if the other feels that spark ignite whenever they hold each other close.

Bucky feels the sensation when he's practically caging you beneath his upper body of the sofa. He lifts his head as he usually does to see if maybe this time he could magically hear your thoughts.

"What's up?"

He shakes his head. "I just really enjoy this." he mumbles and blushes, and your hand suddenly stops its path along his scalp.

"Me too." you smile and look into his eyes.

normally he'd put his head back, and you'd resume watching the movie, but something is different today.

maybe it's the way his hair looks perfectly tousled by your constant motions, or maybe it's the way he slowly blinks at you like a very comfortable pet.

but you finally find the courage to kiss him.

Follow my library blog for fic updates! @espinosaurusrexex-library

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brunchable · 6 months ago

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Don't Look at Me Like That [18+]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader. Summary: You get stuck in an awkward position in a very tight space and Bucky's dick decides it's a good time to get hard. Themes/Warning: Comedy Smut, forced proximity. Oral sex - Male Receiving. Guided Deep throating. A/N: Hah......to have your throat ruined by bucky ;_;

@classicrebound can you guess what inspired this? LOL

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Bucky groaned as the door of the janitor’s closet clicked shut, trapping the two of you inside.

The Avengers’ compound was massive—thousands of square feet of pristine, state-of-the-art design, but you and Bucky had somehow found yourselves stuck in the one claustrophobic, cramped janitor’s closet with a broken door handle.

“Move your stupid foot,” you muttered, glaring up at him.

“I can’t move anywhere, doll. There’s no room,” he snapped back, looking like he was trying very hard not to elbow you in the face as he shifted.

He wasn’t lying. There was barely enough space for one person, let alone two. Your shoulders were pressed against shelves full of cleaning supplies, and your knees were almost touching the floor, awkwardly bent as you knelt in front of Bucky.

“Why didn’t you wait until I finished grabbing the damn broom?” he complained, glowering down at you.

“Because I needed it!” You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “You were taking forever, and— Look, I’m sorry, okay? Just… help me up.”

Bucky tried shifting again, but with the tight space and the way your body was jammed into the corner, it was impossible. “You’re wedged in there like a sardine. I’m gonna have to—”

“Just move!” you snapped, tugging at his belt for leverage.

The sudden force made him stumble forward. You yelped as his hips knocked into you, and you lost your balance, falling forward—right into the worst possible position imaginable.

“Whoa—! What the hell?” Bucky’s voice came out in a strangled yelp as you braced yourself on his thighs, your face now directly level with his crotch. You looked up at him, scowling.

“I swear, Barnes, if you don’t—”

But the words died on your lips when you met his gaze. His chest heaved with the effort of keeping his balance, and his hands hovered uncertainty in the air as if he didn’t know what to do with them. The tension in his face slowly turned into something else as he looked down at you.

You blinked up at him, your annoyance fading as his expression shifted. His blue eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel the air change between you—growing thicker, heavier.

“Bucky…?” you asked, voice softening as you looked up at him, noticing his breathing had gone ragged.

He swallowed hard, the muscles in his throat working visibly.

“Doll,” he managed to croak out, his voice strained.

“What?” You frowned, looking at him in confusion.

“I—” He glanced down at you, his gaze darting to your lips before flicking back to your eyes. His nostrils flared, and he shifted awkwardly. “You… gotta stop looking at me like that.”

You furrowed your brow. “Like what?”

“Like—” He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before looking down at you again, his cheeks flushed. “Like you’re about to… you know.”

Your eyes widened, and it took a second for his words to register.

“Wait… What?! I’m not—!” You pulled back slightly, trying to put distance between you, but it only made things worse.

Because that’s when you noticed it. The growing, unmistakable bulge in his jeans, right in front of your face.

“Oh my God, Bucky,” you gasped, your voice a mix of shock and disbelief. “Are you— Are you getting hard right now?!”

His face flushed crimson. “I— No! I mean— I don’t know! You’re the one kneeling in front of me like— like—”

“Like what, Barnes?” you demanded, eyes narrowing. “Like I’m about to— Oh my God!”

You threw your hands up in frustration, accidentally brushing against his thighs in the process. His breath hitched, and you pulled your hands back like you’d been burned.

“Stop it!”

“I’m trying!” he hissed back, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper. “You’re making it worse, dammit!”

“What do you mean I’m making it worse?” you snapped, staring up at him in disbelief. “You’re the one getting turned on in a janitor’s closet!”

“I’m not doing it on purpose!” he growled, his hands flexing at his sides. “You keep looking up at me like that, and I— I don’t know, okay? It just— happens!”

“Stop saying it happens!” you squeaked, your face heating up as you looked at the bulge right in front of you. “Just— make it go away!”

“I can’t!” Bucky barked, his eyes wild with frustration. “I’m not a damn magician!”

“Then just think of something!” you snapped, voice rising. “Think of— of— I don’t know, dead puppies or—”

“That’s not helping!” he yelled, his voice cracking in a way that would have been hilarious if it weren’t for the very real problem growing in front of you.

“Then stop thinking about me!” you shouted back, your voice a panicked whisper.

“You think I’m doing this on purpose?” His eyes narrowed, his gaze dark and dangerous. “I can’t stop it, okay? It’s a reflex!”

“Reflex?!” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “What kind of reflex?”

“The kind that happens when someone’s looking up at you like they’re about to—” He cut himself off with a groan, rubbing a hand over his face. “God, this is the worst.”

“I’m not looking at you like that!” you protested, shaking your head furiously. “I’m looking at you like you’re a goddamn idiot!”

“Well, your face is saying something else!” he shot back.

“What’s it saying?” you demanded.

“Like you’re about to— I don’t know—” He faltered, his eyes darting down to your lips and then back up. “Like you want to—”

“Oh my God, stop it!” You covered your face with your hands, utterly mortified. “Just— Stop getting turned on, okay?!”

“I’m not trying to!” he groaned, dropping his head back against the wall. “Christ, do you think I want to be stuck in a closet with a hard-on right now?”

“Then do something about it!” you yelled, glaring up at him.

“I can’t just tell it to go away!” he yelled back.

“Then tell yourself to go away!” you shouted.

“Where the hell am I gonna go, Y/N?!” he yelled back, throwing his hands up. “We’re stuck in a goddamn closet!”

The two of you fell silent, glaring at each other. Bucky was breathing hard, his chest heaving with every breath, and you were trying very hard not to look at the problem that was still very much in your line of sight.

“This is insane,” you finally muttered, shaking your head. “Just— take deep breaths or something. Think. . .Think of Steve in a Speedo!”

Bucky made a face. “Why would I think of Steve in a Speedo?”

“Because it’ll kill the mood!” you shot back. “Just do it!”

Bucky sighed heavily but nodded. He closed his eyes, muttering to himself as he took slow, deep breaths. “Steve… in a Speedo… Steve… in a Speedo…”

You waited, watching his face closely. After a few long moments, his shoulders relaxed slightly, and his breathing steadied. He opened one eye and glanced down at you.

“Better?” you asked cautiously.

“Yeah.” He let out a long, relieved breath. “Better.”

“Good.” You nodded. “Great. So, can we get out of here now?”

“I’ll try the door again,” he muttered, reaching for the handle. But when he moved, he shifted just slightly forward—and the bulge that was supposed to be gone brushed against your shoulder.

You froze.

Bucky’s eyes flew open.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” you shrieked. “Bucky, stop it!”

“I can’t!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the tiny closet.

“Why can’t you just—”

“I don’t know! You’re the one who’s all— all down there, and—”

“Stop saying I’m down here like I’m doing something else!” you screamed back, face burning. “Just— I don’t know— stop thinking about my face!”

“I’m trying!” he yelled back. “But you keep looking up at me like—”

“Like what?!” you demanded. “Like I want to blow you or something?!”

“Yes!” he shouted, then slapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes widening in horror.

The closet fell silent.

You stared up at him, mouth hanging open in shock. “Bucky… did you just—”

“I didn’t mean—!” he spluttered, turning even redder. “I mean— I just— Oh God—”

“Oh my God, this is— This is the worst,” you whispered, covering your face with your hands again. “This is literally the worst.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, sounding utterly miserable. “It really is.”

The two of you sat there in stunned silence, the reality of the situation sinking in. Bucky was still very much hard, you were still very much kneeling, and neither of you could move an inch.

“…So, how long do you think it’s gonna take for this to… y’know… go away?” you asked hesitantly, still crouched awkwardly on your knees. You shifted a little, trying to get comfortable, but every slight movement made your face closer to the obvious problem in Bucky’s jeans.

“I don’t know, okay?” Bucky muttered, his voice dripping with frustration. “Just… don’t look at it.”

“Look at what?” you asked innocently.

“My… my—DICK.” He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut for a second as if to gather his composure. “Just… stop looking at my dick!”

You blinked up at him, eyes wide with feigned confusion. “I’m not looking at anything.”

“Yes, you are!” Bucky hissed, gesturing at his crotch. “You’re staring right at it, doll. I can feel your eyes on me.”

You glanced at the bulge again and then back up to his flushed face.

“Oh, this?” you asked, pointing at it like it was a random spot on his jeans. “Sorry. Didn’t realise I was staring.”

“Y/N…” he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

“What?” You shrugged, doing your best to keep a straight face. “It’s kind of hard to not notice, y’know?”

“Just—” Bucky exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose with his metal fingers. “Just stop. Stop looking at the dick. Stop talking about it. Just… stop it.”

“Fine, fine.” You nodded and turned your head away, doing your best to ignore his predicament. But after a few seconds of awkward silence, your eyes involuntarily drifted back.

And there it was—still very much… present.

“Y/N!” Bucky growled, his voice strained. “Stop looking at it!”

“I’m sorry!” you blurted out, throwing your hands up in a helpless gesture. “It’s just— it’s right there, and it’s not going away!”

“Well, you’re not helping by staring!” he snapped, his voice a mix of irritation and something else—something that sounded suspiciously like desperation.

“Okay, well, maybe…” You hesitated, biting your lip as you considered your options. This was already the most awkward situation you’d ever been in, but if it wasn’t going away…

“Maybe what?” Bucky demanded, narrowing his eyes at you suspiciously. “Don’t even—”

“Maybe I should just…” You waved your hand in a vague motion, indicating the space in front of you. “Y’know… help or something?”

Bucky’s entire body went rigid.

“Help?” he repeated slowly, his voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, feeling a wicked smile tug at the corners of your lips. “Yeah… I mean, it’s not going away, right? So maybe if I just—”

“And what?!” Bucky interrupted, looking both horrified and intrigued. “What are you saying, Y/N?”

“And maybe if I…” You pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek suggestively, your eyes dropping down to the bulge again. You heard Bucky’s breath hitch, and you had to suppress a grin as his gaze darkened.

“Don’t,” he warned, his voice a low growl. “Don’t you dare.”

You tilted your head, looking up at him through your lashes. “What? I’m just trying to help. You said you couldn’t get rid of it, so…”

“So what?!” Bucky’s voice was almost hysterical now, and he shifted on his feet still not knowing what to do with his hands. “You think— You think you can just—”

“I mean…” You leaned in slightly, your cheek brushing against his thigh as you moved closer, your lips dangerously close to the outline of his jeans. “If it’ll get us out of here faster…”

“Y/N, don’t.” Bucky’s voice was strained, his hands coming up to hover uncertainty in the air as if he wanted to push you away but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. “I’m serious. This isn’t—”

“Isn’t what?” You raised an eyebrow, pressing your tongue against your cheek again in that infuriatingly suggestive way. “What do you want me to do, Bucky?”

“Not that!” he blurted out, his voice cracking slightly. “Just— Jesus, Y/N—”

“What?” You tilted your head, batting your lashes up at him. “It’s not going away on its own. And you said it’s my fault, right?”

Bucky groaned, his head dropping back against the wall with a soft thunk. “You’re gonna drive me insane, you know that?”

You bit back a laugh.

“So, should I…?” You trailed off, your eyes flicking pointedly to his crotch again.

“No,” he growled, his jaw clenching.

“Just trying to be helpful,” you murmured, smirking up at him.

“Helpful, my ass,” he muttered, but his gaze dropped to your lips, and his expression softened for just a split second.

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into a mischievous smile. “You sure you don’t want my help, Sergeant?”

His breath hitched again, and for a second, you thought he might actually say yes. But then he shook his head violently, squeezing his eyes shut.

“No,” he muttered, his voice rough. “No, I— We’re not doing this. Not here.”

You sighed dramatically, sitting back on your heels. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

Bucky let out a long, shaky breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thank you.”

“But you know…” You leaned in again, your breath ghosting over the front of his jeans as you looked up at him with a wicked grin. “If you change your mind—”

“Y/N!” he groaned, his voice breaking. “I swear to God, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” You grinned, thoroughly enjoying his torment. “Push me away?”

“I—” He faltered, his gaze darting down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. “I—”

“Didn’t think so,” you murmured, pressing your tongue against your cheek one last time. He let out a tortured groan, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“You’re evil,” Bucky muttered, his voice low and rough.

“And you’re still hard,” you teased, eyes drifting down to the very obvious bulge in his jeans.

“Yeah, well, whose fault is that?” he shot back, his voice strained, his gaze boring down at you.

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Guess you’ll just have to suffer, then.”

Bucky let out a long, tortured breath, his head falling back against the wall. His shoulders heaved as he struggled to keep himself under control. It was endearing, really—seeing the big, bad Winter Soldier at a loss for words, his composure unravelling inch by inch.

“I— I mean it, Y/N.” His voice was a mix of a plea and a warning now, and you felt a rush of satisfaction ripple through you. “Don’t… don’t mess with me like this.”

“Mess with you?” you murmured softly, leaning closer, the space between you narrowing. “Who said I was messing with you?”

He stilled, his jaw clenching as you brushed your cheek against the front of his jeans. You heard him suck in a breath, and when you tilted your head up to look at him, you saw the raw, unfiltered desire in his eyes.

“Doll…” He swallowed hard, his voice coming out rough and gravelly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you asked, lips curving into a slow, wicked smile. “Like I’m about to do this?”

Before he could fake his protest, you reached up, your fingers lightly tracing the outline of his length firmly through his jeans. Bucky let out a low groan, his hips jerking at the contact.

“Shit,” he hissed, his head falling back against the wall.

You hummed softly, applying more grip to the fabric. He was so thick and hard beneath the denim, and the heat of him seared through the fabric. You ran your thumb along his length, pressing against the tip slightly, and Bucky let out a ragged moan, his hips twitching again.

“Want more, Sergeant?” you murmured, looking up at him through your lashes. “Want me to touch you properly?”

“Jesus—Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his voice breathless, “Just do it.”

With your deft fingers you unbuckled his belt, unzipping his jeans, pulling down freeing him from the constraint of his clothing. He sprang free, thick and hard, the tip flushed and glistening. You wrapped your hand around him, though your hand couldn’t fully envelope him.

“God, you’re big,” you murmured softly, giving a slow stroke from base to tip. Bucky shuddered, a low, needy moan escaping his lips.

“Doll, I—” His voice was rough and breathless, his hands hovering at his sides, watching you. “Just like that. Nice and slow. I want to feel every inch of your hand.”

“Yeah? Does it feel good?” you murmured, gripping him with your other hand. You ran your thumb over the sensitive head, smearing the precum that had gathered there, and Bucky let out a ragged groan, his hips bucking involuntarily.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, his hand sliding down to your chin, tilting your head up further. “Look up at me, doll. Want to see those eyes on me while you make me feel so fucking good.”

You stared up at him, your gaze locking onto his as your hands continued to pump his hardened length, your hand slick with precum as you moved faster, firmer. Bucky let out a choked moan, his hips thrusting into your grip as he lost himself in the sensation.

“Like that, Sergeant?” you asked softly, twisting your wrist at the end of each stroke. “You can’t even fit in my hands.”

“God, yes—” he muttered, “Your hand feels so fucking good. But you know what I really want?”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips parting slightly as you looked up at him. “What’s that, Sergeant?”

“I wanna feel that mouth on me,” He murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip before gently pressing it into your mouth, your eyes locked with his as you slowly wrapped your lips around his thumb, sucking it seductively, “I want to come into your mouth and you swallow every drop of me.”

“Mhm, yes please.” You moaned softly, your breath hitching as his words sent a rush of heat straight to your core, making you undeniably wet under your skirt.

“Yeah?” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower. “You like that, huh? Like the idea of me using that pretty mouth? You gonna let me fuck that throat until it hurts, doll?”

“Hmm…” You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of him before pulling back, your gaze never leaving his. “Yes can you fuck my mouth good, Sergeant?”

“Holy shit—”

You leaned forward again, your lips brushing against his tip as you gave him a slow, teasing lick. Bucky’s hips jerked involuntarily again, as he was not expecting this, accidentally forcing his cock further into your mouth. You just smiled around him and worked on the head of his cock, the tip of your tongue tracing the grooves of the head of his penis. You slurped your way to the tip and suckled on the head for a minute, keeping him in your mouth as you nursed on it. You worked your way down to his balls, and took one and then the other in your mouth, and started the whole thing again.

You weren't even sucking him and he felt like he was about to scream.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, his voice strained. “Just like that…”

You took your time with him, lavishing attention on his tip with soft licks and teasing strokes of your tongue. Every time you flicked your tongue over that sensitive spot just beneath the head, Bucky let out a low, desperate sound, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself back.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. “More… need more…”

You wrapped your lips around his tip, sucking gently as your hand continued to stroke his length. Bucky let out a choked moan, his fingers twitching in the air as if he was fighting the urge to grab you.

“God, you’re so fucking good at this,” he muttered, his head falling back against the wall. “. . . you’re gonna make me lose it—”

You glanced up at him, your eyes locking onto his as you slowly took him deeper into your mouth, your lips stretching around him. Your jaw widened and you pressed forward, letting him slide along your tongue. When Bucky hits the top of your throat, you paused.

His fingers itched to take the back of your head and shove his way inside, but he let you do this. You knew what he wanted, and he needed to see how far you would go to give it to him. You widen your thighs, changing the angle, and relax your throat muscles enough for him to slip in.

“That’s it,” Bucky crooned. “I will let you breathe in a moment. Eyes on me, baby.”

Your wide, almost panicked gaze met his and he saw the fear and determination. It made his dick pulse, and he gave a short thrust of his hips to tunnel deeper. You worked together for a few seconds until he was fully inside, exactly where he wanted to stay.

“Relax,” Bucky instructed. “Don’t pull off.”

Tears gathered and spilled over your lashes, the most beautiful sight Bucky’s ever seen. His cock filled your mouth and throat, your lips pressed to his pelvic bone.

“Swallow, Y/N.”

Your throat muscles worked, squeezing him, and he gasped. “Oh fuck,” He moaned, pulling back so you could take in air.

After a few seconds, he lifted a brow in question, asking silently if you were ready, and you nodded once. This time Bucky didn’t wait, unable to keep from grasping your head and ramming his cock in your throat. When he was as deep as he could go, he held there, loving the way you looked on your knees, suffering to make him feel good.

Bucky could feel the orgasm building, his balls growing tight and heavy, the need to empty his seed in your mouth. You saw it in his face, swallowing twice, then again, trying to force his come from his body, and the idea of it was so hot that he began roughly fucking your mouth.

Every third or fourth stroke went in your throat, and he was like a man possessed. It was so much better than he imagines, your sweet tongue rubbing the underside while your lips pulled to give him suction. Like you couldn’t wait to drink him down.

You let him set the pace, your eyes locked onto him as his movements become more erratic and desperate. His cock was sliding in and out of your mouth like an oiled piston, and the suction noises you created were squelching into the room. You held yourself steady, hands holding onto Bucky’s ass, while his hips moved faster, his grip tightening as he chased his release. His mouth hang open while ragged gasps escape past his lips and his moans filled the tiny closet, raw and needy and desperate.

“I am going to shoot all over your mouth,” Bucky panted.

You moaned in your throat as if you liked the idea, and the sound vibrated along his shaft. The thin threads of his self-control snapped and his balls sizzled with the impending orgasm. Pulling out of your mouth, Bucky fisted his cock as he aimed his spurting cock into your waiting mouth, thick jets erupted in pulses, his come pooling at the back of your mouth, coating your lips and chin. You sat patiently, taking it, letting him paint you with his release, and Bucky snarled in satisfaction, wishing he could drown you more in his come. When he finished it dripped off your chin and onto the floor.

“Fuck,” Bucky said, slumping against the wall. “I wish I could keep you like this. Just like this, baby. At my feet, covered in my come.”

Swallowing, you grinned, you licked your lips, tasting the thick mess. “Yum.”

Wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb as you sit back on your heels. "Glad I could help, Sergeant," you murmured, your voice soft and teasing as you licked your lips, making sure to savour every last drop.

4K notes · View notes

flowersforbucky · 11 days ago

Text

let it happen

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6.5k

"So that's all it takes, then? I kiss you one time and you get all possessive over me?"

warnings/tags: 18+ mdni, undercover husband!bucky x undercover wife!reader, avenger!reader, reader is afab and is described as shorter than bucky, no use of y/n, adult themes, mention of alcohol, nothing explicit but heavy kissing and suggestiveness! not super edited so i'll fix any errors later!

author's note: inspiration for this hit while listening to "miss possesive" by tate mcrae ♡ ahhh i haven't posted any fics since valentine's day! i know that isn't that long, but it has felt like a really long time to me. i went through a bit of a creative rut and struggled to get words out for a while, so i'm proud to have this finished.

follow @flowersforbuckyfics for updates 💖

“Explain to me again why we can’t pretend to be married?”

You sit perfectly still while Natasha places the strip lashes along your upper lash line. No matter how hard you try, you can never get them just right like she can. Your eyes are closed, but you can envision the amused look that is undoubtedly plastered across her face clearly.

“Ask Fury,” she chuckles. “Something about you and Barnes having good chemistry.”

You open your eyes, your lids feeling awkward and heavy with the fluffy lashes glued to them. To no surprise, she’s smirking down at you.

“That’s ridiculous.”

Sure, you and Bucky work well together, and the two of you have been close friends for some time now. And sure, you – and anyone with functioning eyes – can see how attractive Bucky is. This is a fact that you’re painfully aware of anytime you find yourself in the same general vicinity as him. But chemistry? Chemistry good enough to make a believable pair of newlyweds?

“You know, I think you might be the only agent that would complain about getting to pose as Bucky’s wife,” she hums, grabbing a dark colored lip liner and leaning down to begin outlining your lips. When you’d asked her for help, you only meant with the false eyelashes - but you can’t deny that having someone else do your makeup does seem to be calming your nerves a bit, so you let her continue. “As far as undercover husbands go, you could do a lot worse.”

“It’s not that posing as his wife sounds bad,” you huff. “It doesn’t sound bad at all. I’ve just.. never pretended to be married to someone for an operation before. I don’t know if I can fake something like that.”

Something like that being holding hands, dancing, embracing, gazing lovingly, maybe even kissing if it comes to that…

You’re not an actress. How are you supposed to do all of those things with one of the most attractive people you’ve ever seen and it not fuck with your head?

Not just attractive. Caring, and brave, and funny, and selfless too.

“So don’t,” Nat shrugs. “Let it be real. Just for the night.”

You scoff. You don’t blame her for the suggestion – she’s gone on countless undercover missions like this. This kind of thing comes effortlessly for someone like Natasha.

“Easier said than done,” you sigh. You don’t elaborate – you don’t need to. She gives you a look that tells you she knows exactly what you mean.

“So, where’s my ring?” You hold up your left hand, wiggling your bare fingers. “If I’m going to do this, I better get to wear a shiny rock on my finger for the evening.”

She purses her lips together in an attempt to hide a smirk.

“You’ll have to get that from your husband.”

••••••

After giving Bucky’s bedroom door a few soft knocks, you readjust the uncomfortable satin material that squeezes your curves for the dozenth time since you put it on less than half an hour ago.

The two of you should be well on your way to an estate located in the Upper East Side of Manhattan by now, but after waiting for Bucky in the common area of the compound for the last twenty minutes, your anxiety couldn’t handle waiting any longer, so you decided to go check on him.

“Bucky?” You call out when you he doesn’t answer the door after a moment. “We really need to head out, we’re gonna be late—”

The door swings open, revealing a disheveled and frustrated looking Bucky. Your eyes immediately go wide as you take in his appearance. You ignore the fact that he isn’t even dressed yet – still wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt – you’re more surprised with the state of his hair. Or rather, the lack thereof.

When you’d seen him demolishing a pile of breakfast taquitos just this morning, the ends of his hair had dusted the tops of his shoulders. Now, judging by the strands of brunet hair that litter his t-shirt and the electric hair trimmer that he clutches in his hand, it’s apparent that he’s in the process of attempting to give himself a haircut. Your eyes trail back to his face, noting that he’s clean-shaven for the first time in a few weeks.

“Fury suggested that I shave and get a hair cut to change up my appearance before we go undercover,” he explains. “Figured I’d do it myself since I used to cut my own hair back in the forties, but…” He trails off, seemingly avoiding looking you in the eye. “I can’t get the back of my head even.”

You give him a sympathetic smile, no longer caring that you’ll likely arrive to the party later than planned. This is probably his first real haircut in well over half a century. In the time that he’d been living at the compound, his hair had always been long enough to at least cover his ears.

“Want some help?” You offer. “I don’t have much experience cutting men’s hair, but you’ve already done most of the work for me.”

A large part of you expects him to tell you not to worry about it, so you’re surprised when after a brief second of hesitation, he opens his door the rest of the way and motions for you to come inside.

When you step through the doorway, it dawns on you that you’ve never been in his room before. In fact, you don’t think anyone has, other than Steve. You’ve seen glimpses of it from the hallway, but this is the first time that you’ve stepped inside.

Unsurprisingly, it’s pretty bare bones. A dresser, a nightstand with only a lamp on it, and a king sized bed that looks as if it has never even been slept in. You can’t help but notice that in the corner of the room, a singular pillow and a throw blanket lay on the floor. The implication that he’s been sleeping on the floor isn’t lost on you, but you say nothing as you silently follow him to his en-suite bathroom.

The bathroom shows further evidence of his haircut attempt. There’s dark strands from both his beard and head on the counter, as well the floor in front of the sink. The black suit that he’ll be wearing for the evening hangs on the door, waiting for him to put it on.

“How do you wanna do this?” Bucky asks you, hints of hesitation and embarrassment in his voice.

“Um..” You hesitate. You hadn’t thought of the logistics of it – he’s taller than you, so you need him to come down closer to your level. You look around, realizing that the only place for him to really sit is on the toilet. You close the lid, and motion for him to take a seat.

Once he’s in front of you, you’re able properly see the back of his head. You look at his hair from different angles, deciding exactly where it needs to be evened out.

“How bad is it?” Bucky sighs, handing you the trimmer over his shoulder.

“It’s not bad,” you assure him quickly. “Not bad at all. Just a couple hairs here and there need to be trimmed, and then everything will be even.”

His shoulders seem to relax at your words. You take the trimmers from him, turning them on the lowest setting and getting to work. It only takes a couple minutes – you were being honest when you told him that it wasn’t bad. Considering it’s his first time cutting his own hair since the 1940s, you can’t believe what a great job he did.

When you think you’re finished, you back away before inspecting him from the front, back, and each side.

You can’t deny that you think long hair suited him very well – you’d be lying if you were to say that you hadn’t been partial to it. But looking at him now, all freshly shaven and his hair the shortest that you’ve seen it since you met him, you feel as if you are looking at a picture of him straight out of 1944.

“What is it?” Bucky hums with an amused lilt. His voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You glance up, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the mirror in front of you. There’s a faint smirk on his face, as if he heard your thoughts. Your cheeks warm at the idea.

“Just looks really good. That’s all,” you shrug, playing it off. He’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your fucking life is what you’re actually thinking, but you bite your tongue.

“You really think so?” He asks, standing to take a closer look in the mirror. “It’s been so long since I’ve had short hair. I barely recognize myself,” he sighs with a forced chuckle.

“I really think so, Bucky,” you assure him. “It’s a big change. Give it a few days. If you don’t like it, you can always grow it back out once the mission is over.”

Silence falls over you. He meets your gaze in the reflection of the mirror once again, an indecipherable expression on his face as he seems to truly take in your appearance for the first time since you knocked on his door. His eyes flicker from the dress that you already can’t wait to get out of and then up to your face that feels overly caked in makeup. You know that Natasha did a great job with applying it, but the boldness is out of your comfort zone and the way he’s looking at you certainly doesn’t help.

“Speaking of the mission,” he murmurs, breaking the silence after what feels like an eternity. He steps around you, his arm grazing against yours due to the limited amount of space in the small bathroom. He reaches into a pocket of the suit hanging on the door, retrieving a small, black velvet box.

“I suppose you’ll need this.”

He opens the box, revealing a large, sparkling marquise cut diamond with a gold band. He removes the ring from the box, pinching it between two of his flesh fingers before grabbing your left hand in his vibranium one. Your breath catches in your throat, the room suddenly feeling even smaller and a dozen degrees warmer as he slips the ring onto your finger.

It's just for the mission, the voice in your head reminds you. Nothing to stop breathing over. You take a breath, examining the ring up close once he drops your hand. He could’ve just handed you the box and let you put it on yourself, the voice contradicts itself.

“What do you think? Is it good enough for this evening?” He asks, his voice teasing.

“I think it’ll do,” you laugh. “I don’t even wanna think about how expensive it—”

Your watch vibrates. You glance down at the small screen at that same time that he looks at his own. It’s Sam – wondering where the hell the two of you are at.

“I’ll uh – I’ll leave you to get dressed,” you say with a nod towards his suit. Before he can say anything else, you exit the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You pause for a moment, massaging the thumb of your right hand over the goosebumps that the cool metal of his hand had caused when he held yours in his.

••••••

In your experience, undercover operations usually involve outdated Motel 6 rooms, a lot of gas station coffee and too much fast food.

From the moment that you saw the dress that you’d be wearing tonight – and the Rolls Royce that you and Bucky were given for the evening – you knew that you were out of your element. As if pretending to be married wasn’t intimidating enough, you also have to pretend to be millionaires – tech investor Henry Monroe and his wife, Cecelia.

If Bucky is as nervous as you are, he’s good at hiding it. He appears calm and collected in the driver’s seat beside you, whereas you’ve spent the duration of the drive to Manhattan picking at the cuticles of your freshly painted nails.

You glance at him from your peripheral every so often, which does little to settle your nerves. He looks damn good in his suit, and you can’t seem to stop your eyes from settling on the gold wedding band that adorns the ring finger of his left hand. Nanotechnology disguises the normally vibranium appendage as human flesh, preventing the metal from giving away his identity.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” Bucky tells you softly as he pulls up to the front of the estate, bringing the vehicle to a stop beside a valet driver. “Just remember, we have been on missions far more risky and complex than this before. We mingle, act a lot richer than we are, get the information that we need, and get the hell out.”

“I know,” you nod in agreement, and hope that it’s convincing. “The objective is simple. Lying is just… not really my thing. That’s all.”

He huffs a laugh before unbuckling and getting out of the car as the valet driver opens the door for him. Within seconds, Bucky walks to the passenger side and opens the door for you, offering you his hand. You accept, letting him help you out of the SUV.

“So convince yourself it’s true,” he shrugs, looping his arm through yours and leading you up the cobblestone steps to the entrance. “Anytime you need a reminder, just look at that ring on your finger. For the next few hours, I'm your husband. And you are my wife.”

You roll your eyes. “You sound just like Natasha.”

The first half hour after arriving is spent conversing with other guests – socialites, investors, and business moguls who you’ve never heard of and will likely never see again. Bucky introduces you to so many people that you lose count – the many faces pumped with excessive Botox and filler begin to all look the same after the first dozen.

He keeps an arm around you or a hand on you at all times. You know it’s not truly necessary, but you find it comforting and appreciate it nonetheless. You’re only mildly distracted by the musk of cologne and the feeling of his hand on the small of your back. You can always tell it’s his flesh hand by the warmth that it produces – his vibranium hand disguised by nano-tech just doesn’t radiate the same heat.

Both of you have small, discreet communication devices in your ears. Your instructions are to blend in and act as if you’re just any other guest at this party until your team taps into the security system and someone gives you the go ahead to sneak upstairs to the off-limits, private office of the owner of the estate – Carmine Vance, billionaire tech CEO who happens to be trafficking illegal arms. Once you’ve made it into his study, all you have to do is hack into his computer long enough to upload intel to a hard drive that is tucked inside Bucky’s coat pocket.

“See?” Bucky says lowly when the couple you two had been chatting with excuse themselves to get another drink from the full service bar catering the event. He loosens the hold he has around your waist, but doesn’t retract his arm entirely. “This isn’t too bad, yeah?”

“Not too bad,” you agree, taking a small sip of your own drink that you’d been nursing for the sake of keeping up appearances. “I mean, it helps that everyone here is too inebriated to notice or care about the fact that no one actually knows us. It also helps that you happen to be an incredible storyteller.”

You turn into him, your chest brushing against his. “The story you told about how we met at a ski resort and it was love at first sight. Did you think of that ahead of time or did you make that up on the spot?”

Bucky laughs. You think you see a hint of blush bloom on the apples of his cheeks, but you chalk it up to the room’s low lighting and the martini that you’ve been slowly sipping on for the last half hour.

“I came up with that in the moment,” he all but whispers, glancing around to make sure that no one is listening in on the conversation. “When I was being prepped for the mission, I was told that if I get asked questions about our history to draw inspiration from the truth and just.. embellish it. Of course, we didn’t meet at a ski resort, we met at the compound. I don’t know if you remember, but… it was snowing that day.”

You’re taken aback by his answer. He’s right – you hadn’t made the connection when he was telling the story, likely because you were too busy being impressed by his ability to lie so effortlessly, but he’s right. To say that it had been snowing when you met would be an understatement. It was nearly a damn blizzard, even by upstate New York standards. Wanda had practically begged you to come outside with her, convincing you only after promising to build the biggest snowman that you’d ever seen with the help of her powers.

When Steve pulled up to compound with Bucky in his passenger seat that afternoon, snow was still steadily pouring down. Looking at him now, you can still envision the amused look on his face when he saw the twelve foot tall snowman in the front yard of the compound.

“I remember,” you say, shaking your head when you realize you’re just staring at him. “Of course I rem—”

“We’re tapped into the security system,” Sam’s voice erupts from the communication device in your ear, startling you and cutting you off. “The second floor is empty right now. You two are clear to head up to Vance’s study.”

“Copy that,” Bucky murmurs.

“We’ll be watching so that we can give you a warning if you’re about to run into anyone. Otherwise, just pretend we're not here.”

The device clicks off a second later.

You and Bucky lock eyes for a split-second before he raises his hand and cups the side of your face. You’re momentarily taken by surprise, but quickly remind yourself that right now, he’s your husband. Right now, you can’t make it obvious that you’ve never experienced such an intimate gesture from him. Right now, you can’t let your micro-expressions give away just how brand new his touch feels.

“Just follow my lead, yeah?” He whispers. Before you can even nod in affirmation, he lowers his mouth to yours. It’s soft and short-lived, but you instinctively close your eyes and melt into it. It’s easy to forget that you’re surrounded by dozens of complete strangers, until he pulls away and breaks the kiss with a soft grin.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” He asks. His voice is still low, but loud enough to cause the couple standing a foot away from you to shoot their eyes in your direction.

That was his goal, you realize. If any guests happen to question the whereabouts of Mr. and Mrs. Monroe, at least one couple witnessed the two of you wander off to some less crowded part of the estate because you’re so in love and just can’t keep your hands to yourself.

“Please,” you giggle, mimicking the playful expression on his face.

He guides you through the throng of guests, keeping a hand on your lower back. You try to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other in an futile attempt to steer your thoughts away from the feeling of his lips on yours.

The two of you navigate the less populated areas of the house in silence, relying on both Bucky’s keen hearing and Sam’s visual on the cameras to anticipate any security guards who might question what you’re up to. You’re not concerned about running into Vance himself – when you’d last seen him just minutes ago, he was downing his third shot of some kind of whiskey that is undoubtedly older than you and costs more than your car.

“We’re on the second floor,” you whisper as you turn down a long corridor with at least a dozen doors on each side. “Which room is his office?”

“Sixth door down on your left,” Sam answers back right away. “No one has been in or out since we gained access to the cameras, but that doesn’t mean no one will. Stay alert and get out as quick as you can.”

To no surprise, the door is locked. You breathe a sigh of relief when you see it’s a simple lock on the knob, nothing fancy about it. Dumbass.

Bucky, being the more mechanically inclined of you two, pulls a simple lock-picking kit out of his pocket and kneels down so that he is eye-level with the lock while you keep watch. “He must not be too concerned about anyone getting inside,” Bucky mumbles as the lock clicks open. “Because a determined seven year old with a paperclip could.”

You both step into the room, the door softly clicking shut behind you. It’s the most mundane, stereotypical looking office that you’ve ever seen – not at all like the extravagant ballroom the party is being held in or the lavish kitchen you’d passed on your way upstairs. No décor whatsoever, mostly empty shelves with a book or two here and there, and one large, L-shaped desk in the far corner of the room. On top of it sits a desktop computer, which is where you come in.

“The room was easy to break into,” you agree, taking a seat in front of the computer. “I doubt we’ll be able to say the same about this.”

“You’ve got this,” Bucky assures you, taking a seat beside you on the edge of the desk. He reaches inside the jacket of his suit, pulling out the hard drive and handing it to you. “There’s no one better at this than you, but let me know if I can be of any help.”

Your cheeks heat at the his compliment. You advert his stare, focusing on the screen in front of you instead. “Just sit there and look pretty,” you snort.

As soon as the screen turns on, you know you have your work cut out for you. Of course it isn’t a simple numerical passcode like Vance’s wedding anniversary or his only child’s birthday. That would make your job way too easy. You can’t even tell how many firewalls you’re going to have to bypass just to get into the damn thing –

“Uh, guys,” Sam’s panicked voice suddenly breaks the silence. You immediately cease typing, looking up at Bucky. “Three guards are storming up the stairs to the second floor right now. If I had to guess, I’d say they’re headed your way.”

“What?!” You whisper-shriek. “I’m not even into the system yet—”

“I know,” Sam interrupts. “It must have sent out some kind of alert when you powered the computer on. Do whatever you’ve gotta do to get out of there without causing a scene. We'll figure out another way to get the intel.”

“They’re almost here,” Bucky sighs, grabbing the hard drive back from you and shoving it inside his suit once more. “We’ve gotta play this off. I need you to trust me and go with what I’m about to do.”

“Of course I trust—”

“Stand up,” he commands. The authority in his voice leaves no room for hesitation. You do as he says, knowing security guards will likely be walking through the door any second now.

He all but lifts you onto the edge of the desk, causing you to let out a small yelp in surprise. Your dress hikes up just enough for him to ease between your thighs. The newfound close proximity – in addition to the knowledge that you’re about to be caught – has your heart beating a mile a minute.

“Now I need you to act like you’re really fucking into me,” he whispers, grasping your face in his hand and making you look him in the eye. “Think you can do that?”

You nod, your throat suddenly bone dry. “I am. I mean, I am your wife—”

He cuts you off by bringing his lips to yours for the second time this evening. Whereas the kiss in the ballroom was short and sweet, this one is fast and fervent. He wastes no time slipping his tongue past your lips, exploring your mouth as you pull him closer to you. You shove his jacket off of his shoulders – some tiny part of your brain is thinking rationally enough to know you need to make the scene look believable. He catches onto what you’re doing and copies your action, tugging the straps that sit atop of your shoulders down your arms so that your breasts threaten to spill over the neckline of the dress. His fingertips trail back up your arms, until his hands come to rest on either side of your neck. He tips your head back, allowing him to deepen the kiss –

“What the fuck is going on in here?”

You knew it was coming, but the loud, thick Russian accent startles you nonetheless. You and Bucky break apart and you quickly tug your dress straps back into place. Bucky feigns a few oh shit, shit, oh shits under his breath, while you immediately jump into a stream of apologies.

“This room is off limits to all guests,” a second guard booms, taking a step closer to the desk. “You shouldn’t even be on this floor. What are you trying to do with that computer?”

“Computer?” you ask innocently, glancing behind you as if it’s your first time seeing said computer. “Oh, I’m sorry. I must have accidentally turned it on when we were—”

“We were just looking for somewhere more private, that’s all,” Bucky interjects with an embarrassed laugh. “Just couldn’t wait to get my wife home. Can you blame me?” He gestures towards you.

The three guards exchange awkward, uncertain glances. They appear to be torn between believing your ruse as horny newlyweds, and throwing you off the second story balcony.

“We’re very sorry,” you apologize once more, racking your brain for a way out of this. “Henry here has been out of town for the last few weeks, and this is our first day back together. I’ve just been so, so lonely and really need—”

“Okay, okay,” the third guard speaks up for the first time. Visible discomfort is written across all three of their faces. “Just… get back downstairs. Don’t let us see you wandering this way again, or we won’t be as forgiving.”

“Of course,” Bucky nods, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you with him as he begins to exit the room. You adjust your dress that is still bunched uncomfortably high around your thighs, not looking back at the guards again as you thank them and apologize several more times.

“I thought you said you were a bad liar,” Bucky says with a breathy laugh after you’re far enough away from the guards.

“I said lying isn’t really my thing. I never said I was bad at it.”

You don’t exhale the sigh of relief you’d been holding in until your feet hit the stairs leading back down to the main floor.

“I think I need to flush my ears out after having to listen to the sound of you guys make out,” Sam’s voice rings in your ear. You grimace at the realization that he and God knows who else had been listening to the entire ordeal. Had you moaned? Whimpered? You had been so caught up in making it believable that you weren’t even sure.

And goddamn, it had been easy to get caught up in. It couldn’t have lasted longer than fifteen seconds start to finish, but the feeling of his lips moving in tandem with yours made it easy to forget that you were kissing for show. None of this is real, but for a few seconds, you could have convinced yourself otherwise.

“No one forced you to listen, pervert,” Bucky grumbles before reaching up to his ear to click the device off. You hear Sam begin protesting before you decide to follow suit.

“Well, that was a fucking bust,” you grumble under your breath. “This was pointless.”

Back on the main floor of the estate, the party looks exactly the same. Vance is still entertaining a group of his guests, and other couples still mingle amongst themselves. No one bats an eye at you and Bucky as you reenter the room.

“Let’s just be glad those security guards are bad at their jobs and believed us,” Bucky sighs. “We should probably go ahead and get out of here.”

An unmistakable wave of disappointment washes over you. You know that you should feel relieved. From the moment you’d been assigned this mission you could hardly wait to be back at the compound, in your pajamas, eating whatever you decide to treat yourself to from DoorDash in the comfort of your bed. But now that it’s actually time for your time as a couple to come to an end, you can’t help but wish that you could extend your time here just a little longer.

It's silly. Borderline stupid. But who knows if you’ll ever have the chance to kiss him again after you leave this building?

“Maybe we should wait a little while,” you say hesitantly. Bucky raises his brow, as surprised by your words as you are yourself. “If we leave now, it'll look suspicious. If we were really just innocently fooling around, we'd have no reason to get out of here so quickly. We don't wanna raise any more red flags.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, though there’s an edge of uncertainty in his voice. “That’s a fair point. We'll hang around long enough to have another drink. But then I want to get you away from these people.”

You agree, knowing that the sooner you get out of here, the better. But you made a fair point, you think – you hadn’t just been innocently fooling around, but if you had been, would you leave right away after getting caught? The guards hadn’t asked you to leave the premise. They had essentially given you a stern talking to with the order to get back downstairs and behave.

At least, that’s how you rationalize the decision to stay a little bit longer in your mind.

Since you’d already had a martini upon first arriving earlier, you decide that a second drink while you are technically still on the job wouldn’t be the wisest decision. So, Bucky goes to the bar to get you both Shirley Temples while you text the team’s group chat, letting them know that you and Bucky would be staying a little longer for the sake of keeping up appearances and that you’d let them know as soon as you’re on the way back to the compound.

After sending the message, you put your phone back in your clutch. You look up, searching for Bucky at the bar across the room. Beside him stands a woman with long blonde hair wearing a short, cherry red cocktail dress. Their backs are turned to you, so you can’t see their expressions or attempt to read their lips, but you can tell that she’s speaking to him. You’ve always prided yourself on being able to read people's body language – and right now, with the way that Bucky is awkwardly angled away from her while he taps his fingers against the bar top, you find it obvious that he’s uncomfortable.

At first, you can’t help but hold back a giggle. You’re sure she’s the wife of some business mogul who hasn’t paid an ounce of attention to her tonight because he’s more concerned with making connections and stroking his own ego – she’s likely just tipsy and bored. You can’t fault her for jumping at the opportunity to make conversation with someone as attractive as Bucky.

But then she places her hand on top of his with her long, French manicured nails and all of your logical thinking goes out the window. Your feet seem to move of their own accord, transporting you from your spot in the quiet corner of the room and across the crowded floor of the party towards the bar. You don’t even know what you’re going to say – hey, can you please not put your hands on my fake husband because it makes me irrationally fucking angry? Thanks. I like your shoes, by the way. Where’d you get them?

There’s an instantaneous expression of relief overcome Bucky’s face as he glances out of the corner of his eye and sees you storming towards him. You step into the small amount of space between where Bucky sits and she stands beside him, forcing her to back away a few inches in surprise.

“Ah, there she is,” Bucky smiles at you.

“Everything okay here?” You ask in a sickly sweet voice as you shoot her a venomous smile.

“Oh, yeah,” she answers quickly. Her face flushes beet red. “I was just—”

“Hitting on my husband? Funny how your hand was on his but you somehow didn’t notice the wedding band on his finger.”

She’s stares at you, eyes wide and mouth agape when the bartender walks up with her drink. You turn to Bucky, not wanting to cause any kind of scene. “I’d like to go home now, honey,” you say with a squeeze to his bicep.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he hums, an amused smile on his lips. He stands up from the barstool, forgetting all about the Shirley Temples that he was still waiting on.

“Have the night you deserve!” you call back to the woman as you practically drag Bucky away from the bar.

Once you’ve made it out of the busy party room and enter a practically dead corridor, you loosen your hold on his arm but don’t slow down. You know you’re allowing your emotions to get the best of you, and you don’t like it one bit. You’ve never considered yourself to be the jealous type, but now you’re suddenly fuming over a stranger simply touching the hand of your pretend husband? A man who you’ve never so much as kissed before tonight?

Screw hanging around for a while to not raise suspicions. You need to get the fuck out of here before you make yourself look even more foolish.

“Slow down,” Bucky laughs as he pulls you to a stop. He glances around to make sure there’s no one behind you before his gaze settles on you. It’s another one of those looks that makes you wonder if he can actually read your mind. For a brief moment, his eyes flicker down to your lips. “What happened to wanting to stick around long enough to play it off?”

“I changed my mind,” you shrug, feeling small under his intense stare. “Is that cool with you?”

“Changed your mind?” He asks in a tone that makes it obvious that he doesn’t believe you.

“Yep,” you retort, making sure to pop the p at the end. “I just wanna go get some food and go the fuck ho—”

You’re cut off by him suddenly backing you against the wall directly behind you, effectively pinning you between him and the wall. He rests a fist against the wall beside your head, his face just inches from yours as he peers down at you.

“Wanna know what I think?”

No, you don’t think you do.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. The smirk on his face tells you that he finds your lack of response amusing.

“I think,” he starts, bringing his other hand to your face. He cups your jawline in his palm, placing the pad of his thumb on the swell of your bottom lip. You have to consciously remind yourself to breathe. “That you got a little jealous when you saw blondie coming onto me.”

“And?” you whisper. “What if I did?”

If he’s surprised by your answer, he doesn’t let it show. You could cut the tension that hangs in the air with a knife.

"So that's all it takes, then? I kiss you one time and you get all possessive over me?"

He hardly gives you time to respond before he pulls you away from the wall, wraps an arm around your shoulders and begins to quickly maneuver the both of you further down the hallway.

“Bucky? Where are we go—?”

He comes to a stop in front of a door. He gives it one brief knock before barging in, pulling you inside with him. It's a bathroom – a really fucking fancy bathroom, but still, a bathroom. You’re acutely aware of the sound of the door clicking shut, followed by a lock turning.

“How'd you even know what this room was?” You scoff, leaning against the sink countertop.

“Lucky guess,” he breathes, closing in on you. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

So that’s all it takes, then? I kiss you one time and you get all possessive over me?

He looks down at you expectantly.

“You didn’t kiss me once,” you shrug. You reach for his tie, gently tugging on it so that he’s face level with you. “You kissed me twice. And unless you’re planning to go for number three, I’d really like to get the hell out of here.”

You might regret it when this mission is really and truly over. When you’re driving home in loaded silence or you’re back at the compound, trying to fall asleep while replaying tonight’s events over and over again in your head. When you wake up in the morning and wonder if you dreamed it all or when you have to sit across from him at breakfast and act like nothing happened.

He inches his face closer to yours, until the tip of his nose brushes against yours. You have to close your eyes to keep the room from spinning around you.

“And if I do that…” he murmurs, his breath fanning across your face. “Should I do it as Henry Monroe? Or as Bucky?”

You give his tie another sharp tug, bringing his mouth the rest of the way to yours for the third time that night.

You take your time, knowing that this kiss isn’t for show. It’s less rushed, less panicked. Your hands find the short tufts of his hair and his find your waist, both of you pulling the other as close as possible. Without any interruptions this time, you take your time, not pulling away until you’re both dizzy from lack of air.

“As Bucky. My Bucky.”

thanks so much for reading!! comments and reblogs are super appreciated 💖💖

other bucky fics -

higher than heaven - bucky's first time smoking since the 40s.

delirium - sex pollen trope

lacy - bucky doesn't remember lingerie having so much lace back in his day.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one-shot #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier

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magical-reid · 2 months ago

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Yours, Whether You Know it or Not

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Setting: Falcon and the Winter Soldier Timeline

Word Count: 1K

Summary: You’ve been running missions with Sam and Bucky for a while now, and everything was fine—until John Walker started showing up and taking an interest in you. Bucky isn’t having it. Not because he’s jealous. Definitely not because he’s jealous. He just doesn’t trust Walker. Right?

Unwanted Attention

You weren’t sure how long you’d been walking, but you knew Bucky was beside you—silent, brooding, and absolutely vibrating with tension.

Again.

It had started a week ago. After the whole Flag Smashers fiasco in Munich, John Walker and his annoying sidekick, Lemar, had started appearing more often. They were always just there, cocky and insufferable, flashing that stolen shield like they had any right to it. But that wasn’t what had been bothering Bucky the most.

It was Walker’s interest in you.

Ever since you’d first been introduced, Walker had made it painfully obvious that he found you attractive. The first time, it was a comment—something about how you were “too pretty to be running around with these two grumps.” You’d rolled your eyes, but Sam had snickered, and Bucky had muttered something under his breath that you hadn’t quite caught.

Then, it became touches—a hand on your lower back, a brush of fingers against yours when he handed you something, a lingering grip on your wrist after a mission. It was all casual enough that you couldn’t really call him out on it, but you weren’t an idiot. Walker was testing boundaries. And every time, Bucky got pissed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

At first, you thought it was just his general hatred for Walker. But then you noticed other things.

Bucky started standing closer. His arm would “accidentally” brush against yours when you were walking. He’d place a firm hand on your back before Walker could, guiding you away without a word. And, most notably, whenever Walker so much as looked at you, Bucky’s jaw would tighten, his fists clenching like he was barely keeping himself from decking the guy.

Which led to this moment right now.

You, Bucky, and Sam were walking back to the safe house after a tense meeting with Walker and Lemar—one in which Walker had, yet again, spent way too much time trying to get your attention.

“You don’t have to act like I’m gonna drop dead if he talks to me, you know,” you said finally, breaking the silence.

Bucky didn’t look at you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on.” You stopped walking, turning to face him. “Every time Walker so much as breathes in my direction, you look like you’re about to rip his throat out.”

Bucky scoffed, looking away. “I just don’t trust him.”

Sam, who had been trailing a few steps behind, smirked. “Right. That’s what this is about.”

Bucky shot him a glare, but Sam just shrugged.

“Man, you’re jealous,” Sam said. “It’s written all over your grumpy little face.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You’re so jealous.”

“I—” Bucky cut himself off, taking a deep breath like he was trying to calm himself. “He’s an asshole.”

“No arguments there,” you said. “But if you don’t like him flirting with me, there’s a pretty easy solution, Barnes.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to yours. “Yeah?”

You smiled innocently. “You could just tell me why it really bothers you.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, blue eyes dark and unreadable. Then, with a sharp shake of his head, he muttered, “Let’s go,” and kept walking.

Sam sighed. “Man, you are hopeless.”

You didn’t disagree.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A Game of Possession

The next time you saw Walker, things escalated.

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission—stakeout, gather intel, get out. But, as always, Walker found a way to insert himself where he wasn’t wanted.

“You know,” Walker said, sidling up beside you, “we’d work a lot better together if you ditched these two and joined Lemar and me.”

Bucky, who was standing just a few feet away, tensed immediately.

You sighed. “Not interested.”

“Come on,” Walker pressed, flashing that annoyingly charming smile. “I’d take good care of you.”

Before you could retort, a heavy, warm weight settled around your waist.

Bucky.

His metal arm wrapped around you in an unmistakably possessive gesture, tugging you snugly against his side. His fingers splayed against your hip, and when he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous.

“She’s already taken care of.”

The air went thick with tension. Walker’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered.

“Oh yeah?” he challenged. “By who?”

Bucky’s grip tightened. “Me.”

Your heart stopped.

Walker raised an eyebrow. “Huh. Didn’t peg you for the type to settle down, Barnes.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “Maybe you don’t know as much as you think you do.”

Walker let his gaze linger on you for a beat too long before smirking. “Alright, alright. No need to get your vibranium arm in a twist.”

And with that, he strolled off.

Bucky didn’t move. Neither did you.

Finally, you found your voice. “So. That was… something.”

Bucky let out a breath through his nose. Slowly, his hand eased away, though his fingers brushed lightly against your side before leaving entirely. “Sorry.”

You turned to look at him. “Are you?”

He hesitated. Then, in a rare moment of honesty, he admitted, “No.”

You bit your lip, heartbeat unsteady. “So… am I actually taken?”

Bucky exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Do you want to be?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you stepped forward, closing the space he’d left between you.

“I wouldn’t mind,” you murmured.

Bucky swallowed hard. His eyes flickered to your lips. His fingers twitched at his side like he wanted to touch you again.

Before either of you could do anything about it, Sam’s voice rang out from across the way.

“Hey, lovebirds! We’ve got work to do!”

You pulled back, trying not to grin. Bucky just sighed.

“This is your fault,” he muttered.

You smirked. “If you say so, boyfriend.”

Bucky groaned, but the tips of his ears burned red. And you had a feeling that, jealous or not, he wasn’t going to let the title go.

Not anymore.

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navybrat817 · 24 days ago

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Chokehold

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You have a crush on Bucky and start to bond with him over coffee in the break room, but there's no way he could possibly feel the same way about you... right?

Word Count: Over 11k (yep!)

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected v. sex (wrap it before you tap it!), dirty talk, fluff, longing, minor angst, insecurities, feels, sparring, swearing, confessions, getting together, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: I've been sitting on this one (thanks for listening to my back and forth on this @targaryenvampireslayer), and I hope you all enjoy. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Dividers by the talented @enchanthings-a. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You fell for Bucky Barnes the moment you met. Something dangerous lurked in his steel blue eyes when you introduced yourself to him, but beneath the surface was pain and loneliness that you wanted to take away. Of course, that could've been you projecting and wanting to justify having a crush on a guy who hadn't spoken a word to you.

“Bucky,” was all he said to you, entrancing you with the deep baritone of his voice.

You wished you could say it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, but you could count on one hand the number of times he spoke to you in the months that followed. You tried not to take it personally. Maybe he wasn't interested in making new friends since he seemed to stay close to Steve, Sam, and their small group. Or maybe he just didn't see a reason to trust you. Trust likely wasn't easy for him and what reason did he have to open up to you?

“Hi!” you exclaimed when Bucky walked into the break room, your echoing voice making you wince. “Sorry. I didn't mean to greet you at that decibel.”

“It’s okay,” he said, your eyes on him as he strode to the coffee machine with ease.

Bucky wasn't your friend, but it didn't stop you from greeting him whenever you saw him throughout the building, a warm feeling spreading in your chest every time he acknowledged you with a slight head nod or grunt. That had to mean something since he didn't outright ignore you. Not being his friend also didn't keep you from learning little things about him, like how he took his coffee.

Which you decided to surprise him with today.

“Wait! I made you some coffee,” you told him, going to get the mug you had ready for him. “I hope you like it.”

You had a reputation around S.H.I.E.L.D. for being kind to others ever since you joined. You didn't mind that being your signature since you liked putting a bit of kindness out into the world. Besides the tough work you did, your coworkers and teammates fought other battles every day that you knew nothing about. So why not try to lift others up? It costs you nothing.

Being nice, however, had a downside or two. Some thought that kindness was insincere or a weakness. It also didn't get you a lot of dates. Or maybe you didn't pay attention to other guys since you had eyes for one man.

You couldn't get a read on him as you carefully handed it to him. “You made me coffee?” he asked in disbelief, a soft look in his eyes before he blinked it away.

“Yep! With cream and sugar.”

Your smile faltered when he raised an eyebrow and glanced suspiciously at the liquid, like he was trying to assess if something was off with it as you wrung your fingers together. “This is really for me?” he asked.

You couldn't detect any anger or annoyance in his tone, but you wouldn't say he sounded happy either. Which only made your smile fall more. “Yeah. I just, I thought you liked it that way and maybe it would help you kickstart the morning, but I shouldn't have assumed. I'm sorry. And you don't have to drink it. I can just dump it out,” you rambled.

He held the mug a bit closer when you tried to take it away, the steam rising from it as his eyes met yours. It was almost as if the heat melted the ice from his stare. “Not gonna let you dump this out after you went to the trouble of making it for me,” he said, gently blowing on it before he took a sip. You reminded yourself not to whimper when he licked a drop away from his lip, wondering just what else he could do with that tongue. “Especially since you know how I like it.”

You avoided his gaze, hoping he didn't question why you knew since there was a chance you’d blurt out that you like him and that was the last thing you needed. You owed him some sort of explanation though, right? “Well, we’re both here some mornings and I saw you make it that way,” you said, your brain overanalyzing how that sounded. “Not that I'm watching you or anything like that. I… I’m not a creep.”

Bucky stared with unreadable eyes as you sighed and shook your head. Leave it to you to fumble over your words with your crush. Was that why they called it a crush? Because it crushed your hopes and dreams?

In a small voice, you said, “I was just trying to be nice.”

“It’s a very nice gesture, so thanks,” he said, taking another sip. “I appreciate it.”

Doing your best not to preen like a peacock at the renewed sliver of hope, you released the breath you were holding and nodded. At least he didn't question why you cared enough to remember how he took his coffee. “You’re welcome,” you said, wishing you could hang around and chat more, but you had work to do and didn't want to smother him. “I hope you have a good day.”

“You, too,” he said, his eyes on you as you headed toward the door. “Maybe I’ll see you here at the same time tomorrow?”

You came to a stop, your heart thudding as you faced him. “You… want me to make you coffee tomorrow?”

He chuckled before he took another sip. “I meant maybe we would just bump into each other, but I won’t turn down another coffee if you’re offering.”

Of course that was what he meant. “Oh. Right. Yeah. Maybe,” you said, backing up and hitting your elbow against the doorframe.

His brows furrowed as you gave him a strained smile. “You okay?” he asked, your cheeks hot as you rubbed your elbow.

“I’m fine! Enjoy your coffee,” you said, wishing the ground would swallow you up as you bolted from the room.

You were a competent agent. A strong woman on top of your kindness. Why did you have to act like an idiot in front of him? There was no chance you’d see him in the break room after that. It was a shame, too. It was the most he had ever spoken to you.

A higher being either took pity on you or wanted to play a trick on you since you did see Bucky the next day. Not only that, no one else was in the break room. Granted, most people used the main break room since this room was much smaller and on a floor most didn't go to. But how was it possible that you were so lucky?

“Morning, Bucky.”

“Morning.” He hesitated before he took a seat at the same table as you. If you were dreaming, you didn’t want anyone to wake you up. “Sorry. I should've asked…”

“It’s fine,” you smiled. “You're welcome to sit with me.”

“Thanks.” His cheek twitched and you wondered if it was a nervous tick or something leftover from the hell he endured. “You know, that coffee yesterday was probably the best I’ve ever had from this place.”

You perked up more. “Really? Wow, thanks. It was nothing,” you smiled, your pulse quickening. Not only was Bucky talking to you again, but he complimented you. It was slightly pathetic how much you enjoyed that. “You did say you wouldn’t turn down another coffee if I offered. Would you like one?”

“Sure,” he replied with a smile. He actually smiled at you. It was a good morning. “Thanks.”

“You know, you have a really nice smile,” you complimented him, proud that you said the words without your voice cracking.

“You think so?” He leaned back in his seat and you tried to move around the room like normal as his gaze followed your movements. “I think it scares some more than my glare does.”

You busied yourself with getting his coffee ready, the urge to defend him rising. “There’s nothing scary about your smile and anyone who says otherwise can deal with me.”

“They can deal with you, huh? Awfully kind of you.” His chuckle was so unexpected that you almost dropped the mug. The small talk was unexpected, too, but you weren't about to tell him to stop. “But you’re so sweet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you glare at anyone.”

“Oh, I can have resting bitch face when I want to,” you teased before your heart skipped a beat. He looked at you enough that he hadn’t seen you glare at anyone? He thought you were sweet? No, it was probably just an offhand comment. “And I wouldn’t just glare at anyone to defend you. I can fight, too. Words or fists.”

“You’d fight for me, too? You really know how to flatter a man.” His gaze warmed before some of the usual strain reappeared, your heart lurching at the sight. “But you shouldn’t have to fight for me.”

You took a seat across from him again once you set the mug down. “Why not?”

“Because you just shouldn’t.” He shrugged. You recognized that he was closing part of himself off and you weren't about to kick open that door. “If I’m being honest, I’m kind of shocked you’re talking to me.”

“And why’s that?”

He tapped a finger against his mug as he considered his words. “I haven’t really said much to you since we met, but you’ve still been nice to me. Always saying hi and smiling. And now this,” he said, gesturing to the coffee. “Some people have ulterior motives when they do nice things for no reason, but I don't get that feeling with you.”

“There are people who have ulterior motives. You’re right about that,” you agreed. The world could be a dark place with terrible people. “And I guess that's one of the reasons I try to lead with kindness. Putting a bit more optimism and joy into the world might not make it change overnight, but it could make a difference to someone.”

“That makes sense,” he said, his brows pinching. “But why continue to be nice to me when I've been standoffish with you? I don't think I deserve it.”

You let the words sink in. You expected Bucky would be apprehensive of people in general when his autonomy was taken away from him for so long. Trust couldn’t be easy. People had to earn it. What you didn't expect was that he didn't think he deserved your kindness.

“Everyone is different. We all have various personalities and comfort zones. Some people hit it off right away and others don't. Some need a bit more time to open up,” you answered, an earnest smile on your face. “I guess I figured you fell into the latter. Even if you didn't, I wouldn't take it personally or hold it against you. I hope you know that.”

Bucky may have had you in a chokehold, but he didn't owe you a thing.

His shoulders sagged as he let out a breath and you wished you could wrap him up in a hug. “Thanks for being so understanding.” He observed you with a thoughtful gaze. “And you are right about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Your kindness made a difference for me yesterday. And you’re really easy to talk to.” He smiled, genuine affection in his eyes as your heart raced. Was it possible to faint while sitting? “I don't usually talk this much anymore.”

“I’m glad it did. You can always talk to me, you know. I’m happy to listen or even give advice if you want it,” you said sincerely. It meant a lot that he took the time to speak to you today, and if it were up to you he’d only have good things in his life going forward. No one deserved that more than him. “And if I’m ever too much for you, don't be afraid to tell me.”

His brows pinched again. “Too much? How?” he asked, his tone not as light as it was a moment ago.

You tensed, gripping your mug as you mulled over past things you heard from others. “Well, I’ve been told before that I’m too perky and too optimistic some days. That my kindness is fake and it can get on people’s nerves,” you explained carefully, swallowing a little. Yeah, you had a reputation for being kind, but some didn’t care for it. “Not that I think you would find me annoying or anything like that. It’s just how it is for some people.”

“So because you choose to be nice instead of acting bitter or rude people don’t like that?” Bucky looked at you with a mix of confusion and anger. “What the fuck is wrong with them?”

You were utterly silent from his reaction. Your heart also fluttered because he seemed upset on your behalf. “So many things, I’m sure,” you teased, hoping to make him smile a little. It was nice when he smiled at you. “But it’s okay. Really. It doesn't change who I am. I'm still going to be me.”

Cheesy, but true. You couldn't control the actions and emotions of others. You knew in your core who you were and you would continue to put that energy out into the world.

His jaw ticked, but he gazed at you with what you guessed was admiration. “Kind and steadfast,” he whispered, making your heart swell all over again. “Listen. If anyone around here does give you a hard time, will you let me know?”

The determination in his eyes took you aback. He went from hardly speaking to you to opening up a bit and now wanting to look out for you. It was nice, to say the least. “That’s okay, Bucky. You said I didn't have to fight for you, so you don't have to for me.”

“I want to.” He reached forward and hovered his hand over yours. Before he touched you though, he pulled away. You longed to know what his touch felt like. “Please?”

You couldn't resist his gaze. “Okay, but only if you let me know if anyone gives you a hard time.”

“Yeah. I got a name for you. Sam Wilson,” he deadpanned.

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth so the sound wouldn’t echo in the room or bother him. “Oh, Sam. I’ll give him a talking to,” you teased, your cheeks aching from how hard you were smiling.

“I made you laugh,” he pointed out softly, almost in disbelief. It was another moment where you wanted to wrap him up in a hug.

“Yeah, you did.”

“Wow,” he whispered, smiling before his face fell. “Fuck. I have to go.” He went to stand, but paused to look at you. “Do you ever go to the main break room?”

“I prefer this one,” you said, lightly tapping the table. “It’s quieter.”

“Me, too.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, maybe I’ll see you here again tomorrow? Same time?

Warmth spread in your heart at the hope in his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll be here.”

You’d always be there if he asked.

For the next several weeks, seeing Bucky in the small break room became part of your normal morning routine. You made coffee for both of you before you sat together and talked. Some chats were casual, while others went a little deeper. Both ends of the spectrum helped you get to know each other.

He spoke fondly about a cat he found in an alley and took into his home. He named her Alpine and even showed you a photo of her on his phone. It tugged at your heartstrings seeing the ball of white fur curled up in his metal arm. How could it not?

Bucky spoke about Steve and Sam and how they tried to meet up once a week for dinner. They took turns picking the place. It was nice that he had them to lean on. Both men were always friendly toward you, but you noticed they seemed to smile at you even more since you and Bucky started talking. You assumed they were happy that their friend had someone else in his corner.

“Steve is a punk and Sam is worse,” he said once with nothing but affection in his eyes.

He explained that he was in therapy, which he wasn't ashamed of. He had no reason to be. It was a work in progress, building trust not just with the therapist but building trust within himself. He didn't get into specifics regarding what they talked about as it wasn't your business to begin with, though he did casually throw in that he had trouble sleeping some nights. You mentioned that you sometimes wrote your thoughts and feelings down if they got too loud. He told you the next day that he got himself a new notebook to try that out and you had a spring in your step the whole morning.

You didn't talk about anything particularly exciting. You told him that you didn't have a lot of family close by, but loved your job because you got to help people in some capacity. And that you enjoyed reading and watching movies when you stayed at home, but also enjoyed going out with a couple of close friends. Bucky didn't need to know that they loved teasing you about your crush. You mentioned little things, too, like how you needed to go shopping soon for a new sofa and how you hoped to see the new science exhibit at the nearby museum.

The bulk of your conversations took place in the break room, minus occasionally bumping into him around the building which didn't leave much time for chatter. It wasn't a bad thing. It was nice just to talk to him.

And while you didn't think any of the topics you brought up were interesting, Bucky listened intently every time, his eyes on you as he hung on your every word. The attention felt nice. Though you hadn't mustered up the courage to ask him to hang out outside of work, it felt like the two of you were friends because of those mornings together.

Maybe he thought you were friends, too, since he asked one day, “Do you know anything about dating apps?”

You almost spilled his coffee, but quickly recovered and avoided his concerned gaze as you sat down. “Um, no, not much. I haven’t really used them. I haven’t dated in a few months either,” you answered honestly, hoping your tone didn’t sound as bitter as the taste in your mouth. You weren’t embarrassed by your romantic status, but your heart sank just the same. “Are you… Why are you asking? Just out of curiosity.” It wasn’t your business, but it was the first time he brought up anything concerning dating or relationships.

“Sam mentioned setting me up and I brushed that off, so he mentioned using a dating app. I don’t know.” He shrugged as you hung your head.

Something settled within your chest, a heavy feeling that made it difficult to take a steady breath. But you couldn't feel sorry for yourself. Bucky was kind, good looking, and trying to adjust to a sense of normalcy. Of course he’d want to try dating again and what kind of person would you be if you didn't support him?

“Well, I can help you research some apps if you’d like. See if any may be a good fit?”

“Really? You’d do that?” he asked softly.

Your eyes drifted up and you did your best to smile. You couldn't let him see that the mere thought of him dating someone else hurt you. It was pathetic. “Yeah, I would,” you answered. You refused to let your crush on him stop you from helping him if he wanted to meet someone.

Bucky stared at you for a few seconds and you almost squirmed in your chair. “But you said you haven't really used them. Why not?”

The unexpected question did make you squirm. You couldn't blurt out that he was one of the reasons. “Well, not to be a downer or anything, but some apps almost seem to set people up for rejection. It just isn’t possible to match every single person up. And there’s also rapid judgment with some based on appearance and it makes it easy to objectify people,” you explained. It was sad, but true. “It does work for some and I’m happy for those people, but I don't know. I’d rather just meet someone and…”

“Connect with them naturally?” he guessed.

“Yeah,” you said, a sad smile touching your lips. “Is it wishful thinking to want something like that?”

“I don’t think it is at all. In fact, that’s a good reason why I probably won’t use an app,” he said. You hoped your sigh of relief wasn’t audible, but the weight lifting from your shoulders felt palpable. “Besides, what would I say if I tried to set up a profile? ‘Hi, I’m a previously brainwashed assassin over 100 years old’?”

“It would be a conversation starter,” you teased, the playful banter bringing a warm smile to his face. “And I know I brought up rapid judgment, but I’m sure one look at your profile picture and people would line out the door just to get your attention,” you smiled and gestured to his face, but his gaze dropped, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features. “I’m sorry. I…”

He shook his head, and you caught a hint of a smile that made your heart flutter. “No, it’s… It’s kind of nice to hear that,” he admitted, his gaze drifting away like he was lost in thought. “Dating came easy to me years ago and I don’t think I really appreciated it back then. The thought of trying again is a little scary.”

His voice was soft, almost reflective, as if he were speaking more to himself than to you. You felt a swell of empathy for the weight of his past. “Well, whenever your next date happens? I hope they know how lucky they are,” you said, your heart aching to convey how deserving he was of genuine connection.

You just wished that connection was with you.

The warm smile returned to his face as he gazed at you. “Thanks,” he whispered.

Your heart ached in your chest. “Anytime,” you whispered back, quickly standing up before tears pricked your eyes. “I should get to work. Have a good day, okay?”

“Oh. You, too.” He looked like he wanted to stop you, but he hung back. It was all in your head anyway. He didn't want to stop you. Why would he?

You wiped your eyes once you were out of the break room. Rushing away was cowardly and you knew it. It was silly, too.

You wondered if the coffee talks would continue once he found his dream girl. Would he tell you about her? Would bile rise to your throat when he sang their praises or smiled a soft smile not reserved for you? You had to stop thinking about it. You couldn't fall apart just because Bucky wasn't yours, and it was something you’d need to come to terms with when he found someone else.

And maybe tomorrow it wouldn't hurt so much.

Bucky looked a little tired when he joined you the next morning, not saying a word. He still offered you a smile. You didn't speak either, but you gave him a small smile in return.

The night before, you wrestled with the idea of telling him how you felt. All you had to do was get the words out. But the words froze in your throat like ice and you kept quiet, both of you sipping your coffee as the seconds passed by.

You almost wanted to fill the void with more chatter, but it didn’t feel necessary. The silence was oddly comforting. Silence was also safe. He seemed content just to sit there with you, and you were afraid you’d blurt something out that you couldn’t take back.

“Did I do something to upset you yesterday?” he asked suddenly. His gaze was so gentle, yet deep, looking for an answer you couldn't fully give him. “You rushed out without finishing your coffee, and you always finish your coffee, so I had to have done something.”

Your heart breaks from his words. Rushing off made him think it was his fault, and you never wanted to imply that. “No, you didn't upset me,” you replied. That was true. Bucky didn't do anything to upset you. It was your own mind and feelings that did that. “I just had work to do.”

He didn't look convinced, and you couldn't blame him. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” You put a smile on your face, but you felt terrible. “And I don't think you could do anything to upset me.”

“Then you wouldn't mind sparring with me tomorrow morning by any chance, would you?” he asked.

You inhaled, not expecting him to ask you that. “You want to spar with me?” You discreetly pinched yourself, testing to see if you were dreaming or not. He was asking you to hang out with him outside of the break room. Kind of. “Really?” you added, your heart racing when he nodded.

“Yeah. What do you say?” he asked. Oh, it was a bad idea to spar with Bucky Barnes. Not because you couldn't learn from him, but what the hell were you going to do to reign in your sexual frustration? “Unless you're busy.”

“Yes!” you blurted out quickly, clearing your throat as you tried to regain some of your composure. You swore his cheek twitched like he was trying not to smile. “I mean, no, I'm not busy. I’m totally free and I'd love to spar with you,” you said, praying you sounded normal and not like some lovesick woman with an overgrowing crush.

Which was exactly what you were.

But you weren't about to turn down a chance to spar with him. Who in their right mind would? How many times had you imagined him slamming your body against the mats and pinning you down? Both of you breathing heavily, his face shining from the perspiration. You were thankful the super soldier couldn't read minds because now all you could think about was him tearing your clothes away and spearing you open with his cock and-

“Okay then,” he said, finishing his coffee before he took the mug to the sink. “Second floor gym. Room 2. 6 am.”

“6 am. I’ll be there,” you promised, gazing after him as he walked toward the door. “See you then, Sergeant.”

His entire body went rigid before he looked back at you, the metal fingers of his left arm twitching. Your heart sank, worried that you said something wrong. Would he take back his offer?

You stood up from the table. “Bucky, I-”

An agent walked through the door and bumped Bucky out of the way. At least he tried to. The super soldier didn't budge.

“Excuse me,” Bucky said.

“Watch it,” the agent sneered, bumping his shoulder again. He still didn't budge. “Think you're special because you got some serum in your veins and Rogers wanted to save your ass? You’re nothing.”

You gasped. You could handle people saying things about you, but people you cared about? It made you see red. How dare this guy say anything like that to Bucky?

“Nothing but HYDRA’s little bitch.”

Bucky glared and looked about two seconds away from smacking the guy across the room, but he hung his head after a second and didn't breathe a word. Maybe he didn't want to make a big deal out of it or didn't think it was worth it. You, however, wouldn't put up with it. Not for a second.

“Hey! Agent asshole,” you snapped, marching over until you were between Bucky and the agent. “Apologize to him.”

The agent cackled at you and you heard Bucky’s metal fingers curl. “Apologize? He was in my way.” He reached out a hand to pat your head. “But it’s kind of cute to see you defending the Winter Soldier. That's-” You grabbed his wrist and twisted it. “Ow, fuck!”

“And now I’m in your way,” you said sweetly, twisting a bit more until his knees buckled. “Apologize, now.”

“Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry!” he shouted.

Bucky had a look of awe on his face when you looked back at him. “It’s okay,” he said above a whisper.

You released the guy and pointed at the door. “Whatever you need you can get it later,” you said, satisfied when the agent scrambled out the door.

Bucky stared at you when you faced him, silence hanging in the air. “You okay?” you finally asked. Was twisting the guy’s wrist too much?

“I…” Bucky blinked rapidly and cleared his throat. “You defended me.”

“Well, yeah. I told you if anyone gave you a hard time they could deal with me,” you smiled. It didn't matter how small the matter was, you’d stick up for him. People like that guy often mistook your kindness for weakness. “And what he said was completely out of line.”

“Thank you.” His fingers reached out and touched yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Really. Thank you.”

“Don't need to thank me,” you said, giddy from his small touch. “And, listen, before he rudely interrupted, I was going to ask if it bothered you that I called you Sergeant.”

You thought you saw his fingers twitch again, but he shook his head. “No. I… kind of like hearing that from you.”

“Oh.” You dipped your head to hide your smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow then? 6 am?”

“Yeah, you will,” he said softly, meeting your gaze as you lifted your head again.

“Have a good day then, Sergeant.”

He inhaled sharply. “Don’t be late tomorrow,” he gruffly spoke before he left the room without another word, hearts in your eyes as you stayed rooted to the spot.

You mentally jumped for joy from how excited you were. You couldn't keep the smile off your face the rest of the day. Bucky could've asked anyone in the building to spar with him, but he chose you. And he stuck up for you because some guy bumped into you. Now you just had to make sure you wouldn't make a fool of yourself in the morning.

Easy enough, right?

You spent more time than you cared picking out the perfect exercise outfit. It didn't matter what you wore since he only asked you to practice with him. It wasn't like he asked you out on a date. Still, you were hopeful that the matching black set would make him look at least once.

If anything, it was a confidence booster for yourself since you liked how you looked in it.

“Confidence is sexy,” you smiled before you grabbed your bag to go.

You got to the gym in record time, not wanting to be late or keep him waiting. Nodding to a few people on machines before you made it to the second floor, you had to pause and take a breath before you entered Room 2. The air was a bit cooler in the sparring area, which was good considering you’d likely work up a sweat.

Dropping your bag near the door, you nearly jumped when you spotted Bucky a few feet away staring at you. “Right on time,” he said, your throat dry as he nodded to the mat. “I stretched before you got here.”

“Hey,” you said, removing your jacket, the zipper loud in the quiet room. You gave him what you hoped was a nice smile when you went to the mat. “Shouldn't take me long.”

The Sergeant stood against the wall with his arms crossed as you began to stretch, one foot pressed against it as his eyes slid over to you. Quickly averting your gaze, you tried to concentrate on warming up instead of how good he looked in his workout gear. While his sweatpants hung low on his hips, the dark short sleeved shirt clung to him like a second skin. He had his hair pulled back, too, which only enhanced how bright his eyes looked under the ceiling lights.

You refused to get aroused just from looking at him.

Too. Fucking. Late.

“You good? You don't seem as chipper as usual,” he said.

“Yeah, I…” What were you even going to say? That his mere presence in his current attire made you wet? “I didn't have my coffee before I left, so no caffeine. This might wake me up.”

He didn't seem convinced, but he nodded after a moment. “I know the feeling,” he said with a soft smile. “Thanks for joining me so early. And sorry if it threw off your routine.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. Morning exercises are good for the mind and body,” you said, standing once you finished stretching. He probably had a full schedule ahead of him. “I have to admit though, just like you were surprised I was nice to you a while back, I'm a little surprised you asked me to spar with you.”

“And why is that?” he asked as he approached the mat, all confidence as he took his spot.

Your throat went dry again before you cleared it. “Because someone like Steve is more evenly matched,” you said. Super soldier to super soldier, you could go for hours. “And chances of me beating you are also pretty slim.”

Way to downplay yourself.

“You nearly brought that agent to his knees yesterday and you didn't break a sweat.” His head tilted a fraction, his eyes carefully taking you in from head to toe. “You don't think you can take me?”

Your next breath came out in a rush. If you didn't know any better, you would've said he asked that on purpose. Oh, you had imagined Bucky telling you how well you'd take him, but not like this. You'd take what you can get.

“I can take you,” you stated.

You could only describe the look in his eyes as feral as he got into position. “I'm sure you can,” he said, your only warning before he rushed at you.

Blocking Bucky’s hit, you told yourself not to smile and focused on dodging another hit. He had advantages on his side, like his strength with the serum in his veins, but you were determined to show him that you were a worthy opponent. You also knew he wouldn't try to harm you. Anything he threw your way would be to help you improve.

Bucky grinned when he blocked your kick and you almost let it distract you. “I think you're giving me a run for my money,” he said before he performed a back full twisting layout to dodge another kick. Was that the proper term? Whatever it was, the move was more agile than you could comprehend.

“And I think you’re showing off,” you teased, extending your leg for a sweep instead. You huffed when he flipped away again. “Either that or Steve’s theatrics have rubbed off on you.”

“Don't tell him that. Wouldn't want him to get a big head,” he winked.

The back and forth went on for a few minutes, your breathing heavier and heart racing. Part of you wondered if he was pulling punches for your sake, but he didn't let up. It was exhilarating. You hoped he asked you to spar with him again.

“Tell me something.” Bucky brushed some of the loose hair back with the back of his hand, both of you panting lightly as the motions stopped for a second. “Why are you single?”

Your eyes widened at the question. “W-What?” you breathed, almost losing your footing as you stepped back. Why would he ask you that and why now?

“You told me why you don't use dating apps and you want to make a genuine connection, but you haven't mentioned anyone special,” he shrugged, tilting his head when he stepped forward. “You know you can tell me if there’s someone you like, right?”

“Maybe we can have this conversation when we’re done sparring?” you suggested. It would give you a chance to collect yourself.

He shook his head. “No, I think we should have this conversation now, if that’s okay.”

“I guess. If you insist.” You blocked his swing, barely. “There’s… someone I like, but I don’t know if he feels the same way.”

His cheek twitched, like he wasn't expecting that answer. “Who is he? Do I know him?”

That question threw you off a bit more. Why did he want to know who? “Yeah. Yeah, you do,” you said.

“Is it Steve? Sam?” he pressed, a hint of anger in his eyes. “Some other agent?”

“No, no, and no,” you replied, sighing as you dropped your arms. “Listen, do we really-”

Bucky swept your legs out from under you. The air left your lungs when your back hit the mat and he settled over you before you could get up, pinning your arms at your side. You tried to twist out of his hold and couldn't even use your thighs to roll him off you since he had those pinned, too.

“You let your guard down,” he said.

“Yep,” you said, the word clipped as you tried to look anywhere but at him. It was impossible. He was everywhere.

“Now this guy you like,” he started with a tilt of his head. He wasn't letting this go, was he? “If it’s someone I know and he isn't Steve, Sam, or another agent, who is he?”

You bit your lip, wishing you a chance to hide or bolt.

“Tell me,” he begged, his eyes staring into yours. “Please.”

Oh, God. Did he have any clue how you felt? At the very least, could he sense how he affected you by laying on top of you? How hard your nipples were against your top or the wetness that gathered between your thighs?

Now wasn't the time to focus on being horny.

He sighed when you didn’t speak. “Answer this then: Is there even the slightest chance that it’s me?” he asked, the question hanging in the air between you.

“I…” You swallowed hard as he waited patiently for your answer with an expectant gaze. He was so close and the position was too vulnerable, but you had to bite the bullet and tell him the truth. “It isn't a slight chance. It's one hundred percent you.”

“What?” he whispered.

Super soldier hearing, he should've heard you perfectly clear, right? “I like you, Bucky. I care about you. I pretty much have since I met you,” you finished, the quiet admittance making your chest burn.

It was out in the open now and no longer suppressing your feelings was a good thing.

He stared straight into your eyes, your heart picking up a notch. “You like me?” The weight of him left your thighs, but you couldn't breathe when he settled between them. “At the risk of sounding like an arrogant prick, are you single because you’ve been waiting for me?”

“Yes,” you whispered, swallowing again. “And you aren’t arrogant. Far from it.”

“So, every morning we’ve had coffee together and even before that, you cared about me? And when I brought up the dating app a couple of days ago and you offered to help me, you had feelings for me? And when you defended me?” He tilted his head further when you nodded. “And you didn't say anything until now?” It didn't feel like an accusation, but your eyes welled up anyway.

“Yes, the whole time. I didn't want to tell you and make things weird if you didn't feel the same way and I would've rather have you as a friend than nothing at all. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you rambled as a tear slid from the corner of your eye. You weren't trying to deceive him by keeping your crush on him a secret. “We are kind of friends, right?”

The two of you hadn’t hung out outside of work, but there was something there. At the very least, there was a comradery. After this, who knew if he’d even want to speak to you again.

“I don't want to be your friend,” he said with conviction, your heart shattering. It was like he punched you right in the gut and maybe you deserved that. He smiled softly, something beautifully tragic when you struggled beneath him. Why wasn't he letting you up? “Wait, no, no. That’s not what I meant.”

You went limp when you couldn't break his hold. “Then what do you mean?!”

“I want to be so much more than that.”

“You…” the rest of the words died on your lips because what did he say?

A metal finger moved down your cheek, the touch cool against your warm skin as he wiped another tear away. The finger then tipped your chin before his mouth descended on yours. You weren't sure why you expected it to be a rough kiss, but it was anything but. His lips teased yours along with his tongue, coaxing you to open your mouth to his. It was demanding in the gentlest of ways.

It wasn't a rushed kiss either. It was thorough, slow, like he had nowhere else in the world to be. Did he have any idea of the spark he ignited within you? It was something hot, needy, out of control. Fire raced through your veins. You'd go up in flames if he kept kissing you like that. Like you meant something to him.

“I care about you, too,” he whispered. You inhaled sharply when he trailed kisses along your face. “I’ve liked you since we met.”

“You have?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he smiled, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I hoped you might feel the same, but I’m a bit rusty when it comes to this and I couldn't get a read on you when I mentioned the dating app. I figured this approach might be better.”

“Well,” you gasped when you felt something hard pressed against you. “It worked,” you said. You were glad he took the leap of faith.

“I’ll always remember the first time you smiled at me. I won't let anyone take that memory away from me,” he groaned against your skin, your eyes tearing up again. “And the way you stuck up for me… I don’t deserve you. I don't know if I ever will.”

“Don't say that,” you begged when he released your other wrist, giving you the chance to wrap your arms around him. “You deserve every bit of happiness.”

He smiled as his kisses moved down to your neck and you could only whimper when he licked and sucked over your pulse. “You're so caring. So good,” he said, rocking his hips forward. The sweet words combined with the sensual movements of his body fueled your desire. You also bit your lip to keep from bursting into tears from his praise. “And you're so beautiful, you know that? Inside and out.”

“You keep talking like that, I’ll keep crying,” you tried to joke.

He lifted his head to wipe another tear away. “Happy tears?”

“Very happy,” you promised, shifting underneath him and brushing his crotch again.

His mouth fell open as his eyes shut. It was one of the sexiest looks you had ever seen. “If you keep doing that, I’ll embarrass myself,” he said in a strained voice.

“Is that a bad thing?” you smiled innocently.

“Maybe not. I have a quick rebound rate if I do,” he teased, frowning when your smile slipped. “Shit, are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

“I’m fine. You didn’t say anything wrong,” you promised, touching his cheek. “I just… Am I dreaming?”

His lips touched yours again, You would’ve melted into the mat if you weren’t already underneath him. “You’re not dreaming,” he whispered. The groan he let out when you moved beneath him again reminded you that he really was settled between your legs. And hard. “I wanted to take you out on a nice date before I even touched you, but I don’t know if I can wait. You’re driving me crazy.”

Well, nothing had happened quite yet. Just a confession of feelings. And some kissing. And grinding.

“You’re driving me crazy, too, but if you want to stop, I understand,” you said. It didn't have to go further if he didn't want to, especially since it was fast.

His forehead touched yours. “Do you?”

You nearly shouted that you didn’t want him to stop, would never want him to stop, but this wasn’t just about you. “I don’t, but I get it if you do,” you said. You were kind of in a public place and consent went both ways. If he was the slightest bit uncomfortable, you were fine with stopping.

It seemed to be all he needed to hear since he kissed you again, eagerly licking into your mouth. Your heart was still racing out of control, the high from the exercise running through your veins. You wondered if he felt that adrenaline, too. If the confession of your feelings was the water against the dam, admitting that you wanted him physically, too, was the thing to break it.

“It’s just… I don’t…” He lifted his head to look around before he smiled. “Wait, hold on.”

He pushed himself up, your body cold from the sudden lack of heat. The tent he sported in his pants sent a surge of pride through you as he went as gracefully as he could to the door. Locking it, he went to his bag next and dug out a towel.

“What are you doing?” you asked when he came back quickly.

“Trying to be a gentleman,” he smiled, lifting your hips to place the towel underneath. “Sorry, the mat’s just kind of dirty and I think you deserve a little better than that.”

“You certainly are a gentleman,” you smiled back.

“The things I want to do to you are far from gentlemanly,” he said, reaching for the waistband of your pants and peeling them down with your underwear. You were sweaty and gross, but if he didn’t care, you wouldn’t either. “I wish I could lay you out and kiss every inch of your body.”

“Maybe after I shower,” you teased, both of you chuckling as you helped push his pants and underwear down. Once all was said and done the two of you could talk and figure out a date and him properly taking you to bed, but having him take you then and there was perfect. “Oh…”

Words left your mind when you saw his hard and heavy cock. A bead of precum dripped from the head and you wished you could have a taste. There was a good chance he’d split you in half, but it would be worth feeling him for days on end.

“Bucky, please,” you begged, opening your legs more as an offering. You didn’t care if it made you look desperate for him, which you were. You just hoped it looked enticing.

With blown pupils and a small growl, he shook his head. It was enough to make you want to cry. “I need to stretch you first, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment made you smile even when you argued, “I don’t need you to stretch me. I can take it.”

He narrowed his eyes, but gave you a smile, too, as he brought his hand to your scorching heat. “We’re both desperate for this, but I’m going to stretch your pretty cunt to make room for my cock. Got it?”

Shivering at his tone, you nodded. “Yes, Sergeant,” you answered, biting your lip when you saw his cock twitch. “You really like me saying that, don't you?”

“Yes,” he groaned. You’d have to keep calling him that in and out of bed then.

He rubbed along your folds slowly, like he was memorizing the feel. Deep down, he was a gentleman. Badly wanting you, but making sure he wouldn’t hurt you. What more could you ask for?

“Can I confess something?” he asked gently as the first finger sank into you, gently exploring. Gasping at the welcomed intrusion, you nodded. He could say anything he wanted. “I've imagined you just like this,” he stated, pulling his finger out before pushing it in deeper.

“You have?” you asked before he pushed a second finger in, both of them curling slightly. It sent sparks of pleasure down your spine.

“It almost felt wrong because I hadn’t even asked you to go out with me, but I couldn’t help myself.” His voice was huskier as he pumped his fingers, your hand fisting in his shirt. You throbbed with need, a kind of need you couldn’t ever remember feeling. “I wondered what kind of sounds you’d make and how you’d feel around me if you ever let me have you.”

More heat pooled in your core as you spread your legs wider for him.

“Making such pretty sounds for me already. And your pussy, it feels like heaven. Might even make me see God once I have my cock in you.” He glanced down to watch his fingers slide in and out of your tight passage, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Fuck, you’re so warm. And tight. And wet,” he continued, an almost cocky smile on his face when his thumb swiped over your clit and drew a small whimper from you. "Guess I haven’t completely lost my touch.”

“That is both hot and…” you had to pause when he added a third finger, making you stretch around the digits. He was going to be the death of you. “Is it bad if I’m a little jealous because I don’t want to think about you touching anyone else?”

Something sparked in his pretty blue eyes. “Does my girl have a jealous streak?” He slid a fourth finger in, your back arching with a small cry. “I’m flattered, but you have nothing to worry about. You’re the only one I want.”

Your breaths were shallow from his touch alone, but the sweet words got under your skin. “You don’t have to worry about anyone else either,” you exhaled. He knew you weren’t seeing anyone, but you felt the need to assure him. “And I like that.”

“Like what?”

Your hand twisted in his shirt more. “The idea of being your girl,” you managed to answer, your body writhing as he moved his fingers in a beautifully torturous motion. “Enough, Bucky, please.”

“Enough what?”

“I’m stretched. I’m on the pill. Just… put your cock in me, please!” Panting by the end of your begging rant with mist in your eyes, you added, “Can I at least touch you if you won’t fuck me?”

The beautiful bastard had the nerve to laugh when he took his fingers out. “Kind and steadfast, even when you’re begging to get fucked,” he said, his eyes slipping shut for a second as he licked the first two fingers clean. “I promise you can touch me later if you let me get a proper taste of your sweet cunt.”

Your cheeks got so hot it shocked you that you didn’t catch on fire. “Yes, please,” you whispered, the promise of later making you quiver.

The room felt like it was spinning when he stared down at you and licked his fingers again. He kept his eyes on you when he wrapped them around his cock and guided it to your waiting hole. You tried to calm the beating of your heart when he slipped the blunt head in, but you were powerless to do anything but feel as he kept pushing in. You trembled and gripped his shoulders once his hips were flush against yours, throbbing around his thickness already when hadn't started thrusting.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he gasped, dropping his forehead to yours again as he trembled, too. “I need…” he breathed against your lips. “I just need a second, please.”

“Okay,” you whispered, wondering if he was as overwhelmed as you were. Maybe moreso. You weren’t sure exactly how long it had been for him. And being enhanced, you didn’t know if the sensations felt different or stronger. You just hoped he felt good. And happy.

His metal hand framed your cheek, so gentle in contrast to the damage he could do with it. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, tilting your head up to kiss him. “I can take it,” you promised. Your body had adjusted to his size and now you wanted him to move, to feel all of him.

He finally began to thrust, moaning against your lips. You lifted your hips, trying to take him in more. The hand on your face slid down your body before it moved to your hip, keeping you in place so you could feel him nice and deep. He pulled his cock out almost completely before he thrust back in, making you cry out as you quivered around him. You wanted to soak his cock, consume him the way he was consuming you.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praised as you bit your lip. “No, lemme hear those pretty sounds. C’mon,” he said, changing his angle slightly so you moaned loudly. He moaned, too, as he kept thrusting. “There you go. So beautiful.”

You wanted to scream for him. You also wondered what it would feel like to have his hand around your throat or over your mouth to smother those very sounds if you ever snuck off during work to fool around. There were so many things you wanted to try with him.

“Bucky,” you whined, digging your nails into his shoulders as he moved faster. Piercing pleasure built from your core and spread slowly throughout your body. You felt like you couldn’t breathe from how good it felt, how he felt.

The intensity in his turbulent eyes was similar to when he listened to you talk in the break room, but with much more heat. Had he looked at you like that all along? “Wanna mark you up one day. Let everyone see that you’re my girl,” he grunted, dragging his mouth from your face to your neck. He lightly bit down, smirking when you whined again. “Would you let me?”

“Yes,” you moaned, tilting your head to give him more access. You’d feel so proud to wear his mark. There wouldn’t be any shame if people saw or asked because you’d get to say you belonged to Bucky.

“You feel so fucking good,” he rasped, surging into you over and over, the sound of skin-on-skin echoing off the walls with your cries. “Sweetheart, I’m not gonna last.”

The term of endearment again. It had your heart clenching along with your pussy. “Neither am I,” you breathed, bringing his head back to yours. You framed his cheeks, ecstasy close to crashing over you. From the strain in his handsome face, he was on the edge, too. “Come with me? Mark me up inside?”

It was a question and not a demand because you wouldn’t demand anything from the man who somehow stole your heart.

Through the pleasure twisting his face, he smiled. “Come with me.”

The heightened pleasure crashing over you was powerful enough that you almost screamed, your walls spasming around him. Shudders wracked your body as your breath ceased, trying to hold his gaze as the heat engulfed you. Your release coated him, just like you wanted it to. And it was only a few more thrusts from him before he tipped over the edge, filling you up in return. You both marked each other in the best possible way.

You laid limp beneath him, both of you panting. Your slick, wet heat still burned around him as released your hips and pushed himself up, a bead of sweat from his skin dripping onto yours. You gazed at each other, something tender passing between you. You wished the moment didn't have to end.

He leaned back down to nuzzle your nose and you couldn’t help but giggle breathlessly at the affectionate move. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, still dazed. “You?”

“Better than okay,” he said, smiling when you tucked some of his hair back. He looked good like this.

“I don't think I can move,” you teased.

“We have to, sadly,” he sighed, sliding himself from the warmth of your body. You whined at the loss, your hole clenching around nothing as your mixed release seeped onto the towel beneath you. “I know, but in case the next group that uses this room gets here early, I don’t want them to see you with your pants down,” he told you as he sat back and looked over you. You took a moment to look over him as well, getting a glance at his glorious thighs. You longed for the chance for you both to truly explore each other’s bodies. “And we could both use a shower.”

You inhaled when he used the clean part of the towel to gently wipe you both down. “Mmm. Together?”

He chuckled, helping you pull your underwear and pants back up. His hands lingered on your hips and you were two seconds from shoving the fabric back down. “If I get you in the shower, we won’t make it to work on time.”

“I don’t mind being late.” You tried to lift your arms to help him pull up his pants, too, but he beat you to it. It was a shame he had to cover up. “Or we could call in? I still have a lot of days off to use.”

“Yeah? You want to call in?”

“Yeah,” you said eagerly. Too eagerly. “Maybe?”

You almost shrank in on yourself when he raised an eyebrow. He told you he cared about you and he sure as hell just fucked you like he craved you, but you didn’t want to come across as clingy, especially so soon. The two of you still needed to figure things out.

And what if the things said were just from the heat of the moment? You weren't sure if your heart could take it if he walked away without another thought. He wouldn't do that though, right?

His gaze softened, helping you sit up, his face inches from yours as he rubbed your arms. “Hey. What’s the matter?” he asked, your heart in your throat when he smiled again. “Was I that bad?”

“No, not at all. You were amazing, holy shit, and telling you how I feel was long overdue,” you promised, his smile softer. “It’s just…”

His brows pinched. “It’s just what?”

You took a breath. “I've wanted to hear for so long that you had feelings for me, too. And now that it’s really sinking in, I guess I still feel like I’m dreaming a bit. That none of this happened,” you admitted, placing your hand on his chest. His heart was still beating fast, like yours. “That tomorrow I’ll just go back to being the girl who has a crush on you and nothing more.”

“What?” His face slowly fell. Why did you open your mouth? “No, that's not going to happen.”

“We just went from work friends to whatever just transpired, and I don’t want it to be too much or too fast for you or for you to regret this,” you blurted out, biting your lip hard. “I don't want to be too much for you,” you added in a whisper. Your insecurity surfaced more as the post-sex haze faded and you wished it hadn't. “I’m sorry. I don't know why I’m ruining the moment.”

It was stupid. Where had your optimism gone? He told you he cared about you. He gazed at you like you meant something to him. It was everything you wanted, so why were you questioning it?

“You didn't ruin anything.”

“Are you sure?” you asked softly.

Bucky placed his hand over yours, the other going to the back of your head so you couldn't move away. “I’m sure, now listen to me: Whatever is going on between us isn’t too much and you are not too much. You are never too much,” he said with fierceness akin to a growling wolf. “I want you and I want to be with you. I wouldn’t joke about that,” he assured you, your lips tugging in a small smile. “I get feeling like it's a dream, believe me, but it isn't. It's real and what just happened was real.”

Hearing him declare his feelings again made your heart soar. “I know you wouldn’t joke about that,” you said. He wasn’t cruel. He wouldn’t toy with your feelings like that. “I just want you to be happy. You know that, right?”

“I do and I am happy,” he said, his eyes full of longing. He experienced so much pain and loss and deserved happiness. “I’ve lost so much of my life, so much time, and I don't want to waste another second. So believe me when I say I want you to be my girl.”

A sob threatened to work its way up. “Oh, Bucky,” you whispered, your head dipping down before he lifted it back up.

“That connection you’ve talked about wanting, I feel that with you. I trust you. That’s why I’ve been able to open up to you. The person who made me coffee and offered me kindness and understanding and just let me be me,” he said, making you smile more. You wished you could wrap each word around your heart. “I want to hold your hand in the break room and kiss you in the halls. I want you today and I’ll want you tomorrow and the day after that. And the only thing I regret from any of this is not asking you to be my girl sooner.”

His words, his stare, his touch, they healed the senseless wound your insecurity put on your heart. “I’m yours.” You surged forward, your lips crashing against his. He sighed before he returned the kiss, likely feeling the same relief you had. You wished you could put into words how much his assurance meant, but you hoped your kiss expressed it. “Thank you for both coaxing my feelings out of me and assuring me that you want this.”

“Anytime.” He brushed another kiss across your lips. “You know how you said you hoped the next person who dated me knew how lucky they were?” he asked. You remembered. “I'm the lucky one because you’re taking a chance on me.”

“You’re a smooth talker.” You had no clue how you kept the tears at bay. It meant everything that he wanted to be with you. “I think we’re both lucky.”

He smiled at that. “Yeah, but I still don’t deserve you,” he whispered, kissing you again before you could argue that he was more than worthy. “So, you want to spend the day with me?”

“Yeah, I do. We can go on a day date or just talk some more at my place or yours,” you answered, not feeling the need to hide anymore. “That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

“Sweetheart, you just let me fuck you on a sparring mat. You can ask me for anything you want,” he smirked, catching your face between his hands. “But this day date doesn’t count as the nice date I want to take you on. My girl deserves something special.”

Your heart tightened in your chest, your emotions starting to run high again before you took a calming breath. “Then how about after that shower we call in, go to a cafe, get a cup of coffee, and figure out that date together? Maybe I’ll even convince you that you do deserve me.”

He huffed, taking your hands and helping you both up. You’d never be able to look at a pair of sweatpants again without thinking of what transpired there. “Okay, but I’m warning you right now that I probably won’t like the coffee.”

“Why not?”

“Because you didn’t make it,” he smiled. “Maybe we can check out that science exhibit you mentioned.”

You giggled. He remembered. “That would be nice,” you said, leaning close when he slipped his arm around you and guided you toward your bag. “You know, I can make more than just coffee. Just say the word and I’ll cook for you,” you said. You’d love to cook him a nice meal.

“Word,” he deadpanned.

You giggled again. “Later,” you promised. You’d make him something special. “Do you think Alpine will like me?”

“She’ll love you,” he promised, giving you a sheepish smile. “I told her all about you. And I think the last few dinners with Steve and Sam all I talked about was you.”

“You told your cat about me? You're adorable,” you smiled. It was really sweet. “And… Will Steve and Sam be happy?” They were his friends and you hoped they approved.

“Steve will be thrilled.” He huffed again. “But Sam’s opinion doesn't matter. Fuck him.”

With a teasing smile, you asked, “Wait, I thought I was supposed to give Sam a talking to. Are you offering for me to fuck him?” You shrieked when he growled and picked you up, placing you over his shoulder. “Bucky!”

“You’re not fucking anyone but me. You’re my girl and I’ll mark you up to prove it if I have to,” he said, keeping a firm hand on you as he carried you away. “But for now, let’s shower before we call in.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

Bucky didn’t have to prove anything. He had you in a chokehold from the start and always would. And you were proud to finally be his girl.

Woohoo! You made it! I like to think this reader has bits of Smartie and Mrs. Barnes, and she deserves her man! I know these two will have wonderful times ahead! Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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fawniswriting · 23 days ago

Text

Before I Could Say It

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis: The three times Bucky almost confessed his love to you, and the one time he finally does.

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning(s): can be read as gn!reader bcs I didn't use any gender-specific words (pls advise me if this isn't true). canon divergence. no use of Y/N. use of the nicknames sugar and sweetheart. insecure thoughts. bucky feeling like he's not good enough. unrequited love (or is it?). alcohol consumption. a bit hurt/comfort. profanities. use of weaponry, including but not limited to guns and knives. depictions of violence, blood, injuries, and murder. (near) death experience. angst. fluff. open ending.

Author's Note: Hii guys. I know I should be focusing all of my energy on Faithfully Yours right now, but I had the idea for this story and just couldn't pass it up!! We have a bit of an open ending here. I wasn't planning on making a part two but I'll see what the general consensus say and will decide whether or not a part two is due from the responses. anywayy hope you enjoy this one xx don't forget to comment, like, and reblog!!

When Bucky tried to think about the beginning, his mind always drew a blank.

It had been five years since the first time destiny orchestrated your paths to cross, six if one were to count the one-year cryogenic sleep that Bucky spent in Wakanda. The Soldat met you first, back when you, Steve, Sam, and Nat fought him on that highway shoot-out that revealed his identity. After that, you were everywhere—in Bucharest with Steve to coax him out of hiding, on the tarmac battle where you went against half of your own family for his sake, and even in Wakanda, where your eyes became one of the last pairs he saw before his body succumbed to the unforgiving clutches of darkness.

And when he was finally woken up, you were there, too, waiting for him.

Since then, Bucky struggled to remember a time when you weren't there. You supervised his deprogramming in Wakanda, becoming Steve's eyes and ears while the Captain roamed the world as both a fugitive and a vigilante. When the Sokovia Accords turned void, and the scientists in Wakanda assured Bucky that his mind wasn't going to betray his heart anymore, you took him back to New York, offering solace in the form of your warmth pressing against his side on the plane ride to the States.

Even once the two of you landed on the compound's grounds, you never strayed too far—standing between Bucky and a begrudging Tony as if you were ready to launch yourself forward should the billionaire try to do anything untoward. As if the ruthless Winter Soldier needed a human shield to prevent him from shattering into fragile little pieces.

Before Bucky knew it, his entire routine—his entire life—became you.

From your morning spar sessions in the gym, the long walks around Brooklyn in the afternoon, to the weekly movie nights that you roped him into in the name of reacquainting him with pop culture—everything in Bucky’s life started to shape and smell like you.

It was a constant.

You were Bucky’s new constant.

And somewhere along the way, Bucky’s little troublemaker of a heart decided, once and for all, to anchor itself to yours.

True to his fashion, Steve was the first person to notice. All of the lingering touches and longing glances, the hard-etched lines of Bucky’s countenance that seemed to soften every time you were near—they spoke of an affection beyond a mere loyalty one might harbor for their teammate. It spoke of love, one that was so unadulteratedly pure and raw that Steve was sure there was no room left in the crevices of Bucky’s heart where a piece of you didn’t reside in.

“You’ve gotta say something, Buck,” Steve said to Bucky one evening.

The two of them were standing in the convention hall of a lavish hotel deep in the heart of Manhattan, surrounded by a guestlist of people that Bucky was assured were some of the most influential figures of the twenty-first century. People tried to swarm him since the moment he entered the party, shoving business cards to his face and dropping names that Bucky knew should have meant something to him. He paid none of them any mind—not when his eyes immediately found you in that sea of ties and ball gowns, just like a moth enticed to a flame.

You were all dolled up for the night, wearing a fancy little number that screams you if only with a little bit of additional sparkles sprinkled on top. Bucky watched you move through the ocean of people, confidence oozing out of every step, a blinding smile as you received each handshake with an indisputable poise. Bucky’s head whipped towards your direction at every echo of laughter, searching for the source, drinking in your infectious glee as if it were the only way to sustain the rhythmic beating of his heart.

Bucky shifted in his feet, Steve’s unprompted advice forcing him to tear his eyes away from where you were standing by Natasha’s side. The blond beside him smiled knowingly, a teasing yet sincere tilt in his voice as he added, “You’ve gotta tell at some point, pal. Better sooner rather than later.”

The line in Bucky’s jaw ticked. He brought the glass of champagne to his lips, tipping the drink back as though the liquid stood a chance against his enhanced metabolism. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Buck.”

“Punk.”

The Captain sighed, reaching for a drink of his own. “At least ask for a dance, will you?”

Before Bucky could register what was happening, Steve had shoved Bucky forward, sending him stumbling forth towards the direction of your canorous laughter. Steve hid his amused smile behind his drink when Bucky flipped him the finger, the latter continuing his steps on wobbly feet, trying to ignore the pounding travelling up his bloodstreams.

“Hey, Bucky,” you greeted as soon as he had reached you. The smile on your face could rival the sun even on its brightest day, and Bucky prayed to every divine being in the universe that he could be on the receiving end of that smile for the rest of his days.

“Barnes.” Natasha nodded.

“Hey, guys. What’s up?” Bucky attempted a smile, tugging at the ridiculous material of his bow tie that Tony had insisted him to wear. In fact, Tony was the one who forced Bucky to attend this whole shindig in the first place—something about showing a united front to prove to the public that there was no bad blood within the Avengers’ team.

It was a shit ton of bullshit, in Bucky’s opinion.

But at least, the party gave him a chance to see you all dressed up to the nines.

“Nothing much.” You shrugged, tilting your head slightly to the side. “Did you need something?”

“No. I mean, I do. I was, um, wondering—” Bucky cleared his throat, “—I actually wanted to see if you’d care to join me for a dance?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Natasha’s eyes widen slightly. The redhead immediately scurried to the side, feigning interest in the tower of chocolate fondue just a couple of feet away.

Bucky’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest when you extended your palm towards him. “I would love to, Buck. Lead the way.”

Your fingers emitted warmth inside his hand, and for a moment, Bucky faltered. He kept his composure enough to guide you through the sea of couples on the dancefloor, willing the erratic thumping in his chest to quieten down as he pulled you flush against his body. The scent of your perfume slithered through the air, filling Bucky’s lungs, attacking each part of his senses until everything Bucky saw, heard, smelled, and felt was you.

“You look beautiful tonight, Sugar.”

The admission tumbled from his lips before Bucky had a chance to stop them, before he could thoroughly process the implications of such candor. You didn’t seem to mind, though. Instead, your persistent smile widened ever so slightly, your eyes twinkling under the glimmering lights of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“Why, you look plenty dashing yourself, Bucky.” You hummed appreciatively, raking your eyes up and down Bucky’s suit-clad figure. “I must say, I was sad to see your long hair gone, but this looks great as well.”

Your fingers skimmed the hard contour of Bucky’s shoulder, leaving goosebumps on their wake, before sneaking through the short tendrils on the nape of his neck. He fought off a groan at the contact, the heavenly feeling of your fingers tugging at his hair sending shivers all throughout his body. Meanwhile, you were still smiling up at him all sweetly, completely oblivious to the rush of heat that you delivered through Bucky’s entire being.

“Sugar,” the nickname fell off Bucky’s lips in a low grunt, and for the first time that night, your composure staggered.

Your breath hitched around a squeak when Bucky managed to tug you closer, circling his arms around your waist until there was barely room for air between both of your bodies. All around you, the world ceased to exist. The only thing that remained were your bated breaths, a raucous disruption through the electric field buzzing between where you and Bucky were pressed against one another.

“I need to tell you something,” Bucky revealed, his voice low and sheer, stripped by unease and something akin to fear.

Your forehead furrowed, undoubtedly sensing the trepidation shining out of the blue of Bucky’s eyes. “What’s the matter, Buck?”

Your palm landed on his stubbled cheek, and Bucky had to fight the urge to lean in, to chase more of your warmth like you were an oasis in the middle of his desert of a life. He grappled for the confession to come, for the feelings in his chest to solidify into something comprehensible. All Bucky had to do was open his mouth and seize the moment.

But just as quickly as it had arrived, the moment splintered through his fingertips.

“Good evening, everyone!”

Bucky's whole body jerked in surprise, his accusatory eyes instantly finding the MC standing on the stage at the front of the room. The music had stopped, replaced by the MC's welcoming remarks addressed towards a dozen supposedly prominent names that Bucky couldn't care less about.

“Hey, let's go find a seat,” you suggested, circling your tender fingers around Bucky's wrist before leading him through the maze of tables.

The two of you sat down just in time for Tony to deliver his opening speech as a representative of the Avengers. You glanced at Bucky in the middle of Tony's heartfelt sentiment about “shaping the future”, your hand finding Bucky's flesh one on his thigh, unaware of the kind of turmoil you have summoned from a single touch.

“You okay, Bucky?” you asked, squeezing his hand. “What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

I wanted to tell you that I love you, Bucky's heart echoed. I don't know when it started, and I don't know how, all I know is that you're every good thing that I have going on in my life.

Bucky's throat tightened.

He never ended up saying the words out loud. Instead, he smiled thinly. “It's not important, sweetheart. I'll tell you later.”

You assessed him curiously before offering him a small smile and directing your attention back towards the stage. Bucky sighed in the aftermath, feeling the wild beating of his heart settled to a normal one.

And just like that, the truth died on the tip of his tongue.

Weeks passed, and between countless briefings, missions, and reports, Bucky was forced to push all matters concerning his heart to the side. It wasn't easy, not when you occupied every facet of Bucky's otherwise monotone life. Every waking moment was a painful reminder that you were always within reach, but never close enough for him to have.

Following a successful infiltration into an illegal bio-weapon factory in the outskirts of Poland, the team had landed their jet on one of the safehouse grounds somewhere near the border of Poland and Germany. Natasha and Clint disappeared inside the house immediately upon landing, while Sam and Steve stayed on the quinjet to go over a few intels they had managed to gather from the factory.

Bucky's boots scraped softly against the grass as he crossed the distance towards the small lake just a few yards left to the safehouse. The surrounding trees rustled in the wind, a symphony of reds and oranges beneath the solemn autumn sky. On the shore of the lake, Bucky found you sitting, a rare serene look on your face as you closed your eyes to welcome the impending breeze.

“Hi, Bucky,” you greeted, eyes still shut tightly.

“How'd you know it was me, Sugar?”

“I always know when it's you.”

The moment your eyes opened, Bucky's heart stuttered in its cage. The smile you rewarded him was soft, embellished with a tenderness that a man of his repute would never deserve. He knew he should have looked away, but the selfish part of him wanted to hold your stare in place, to relish in your kindness no matter how much he believed he wasn't worthy of it.

“Come on, sit with me.”

You patted the ground next to you, and Bucky obeyed without further questions. He lowered himself on the grass, damp from the lingering chill of autumn air, and stretched his legs out. For a while, neither of you spoke, opting to enjoy the sound of water lapping lazily against the shore, a stark tranquility to the horrors you faced during the mission earlier.

The sky dimmed a tad darker as the sun ducked behind the cover of trees, leaving behind streaks of purple and gold on the horizon. Beside him, you heaved out a sigh, the remnants of sun casting your skin in an ethereal glow.

“Sometimes I wish moments like this could last forever,” you murmured.

Bucky's eyes slid towards you, studying the contours of your face like a historian would an ancient scripture. His fingers twitched, itching to feel every soft and hard edge of your features under the brush of his touch.

You're the only thing in this world I want forever with.

The words resonated in his head and all the way down to his chest, settling like stone sinking underwater, slow and heavy. He almost said it out loud—nearly laid his heart bare for you to judge and scrutinize. But at last, he fabricated a grin and nudged his shoulder playfully to yours.

“You always get sentimental when you're tired,” he joked.

You laughed heartily at his jab, a melodic thing that wrested at every coil of Bucky's heartstrings. The two of you proceeded to watch the sunset together, the silence stretching between you, warm and comfortable. The sky burned in more explosions of hues, casting its reflection upon the lake like a dream neither of you dared to disturb.

If Bucky were a braver man, a better man—one that wasn't weighed down by his history and remorse—maybe he would have told you. Maybe, in another life, Bucky would have charmed you at first sight, claiming you as his before the day could even end. But for now, Bucky was glad to settle for this—for sharing a quiet moment with you, and to bask in your company as though he were worthy of even a fraction of your attention.

For now, Bucky would let the four-letter word wither inside him, locked in a hidden fissure somewhere within his chest, keeping it safe from ever seeing any light of day.

Days flew by, and it was getting increasingly harder for Bucky to ignore the way his heart gravitated towards yours, to ignore the fact that you were always the first person he searched for in the morning and the last one he wanted to talk to before falling asleep. To pretend like the mere mention of your name didn't send a jolt that revived his entire being. Every single day was a battle between wish and logic—the unruly desire to make you his, and the rational reluctance of dragging you into the mess that was his life.

“This is getting ridiculous, Buck,” Steve said as he leaned back against the bar right next to Bucky, following the latter's eyesight to find you standing at the end of it. “You're just gonna avoid it forever? An eternal silent treatment? The two of you need to talk, whether you like it or not.”

Bucky inhaled a long breath, swirling the Asgardian mead in his glass without ever taking his eyes off you. It was your birthday—a joyous occasion that called for this merry yet intimate celebration with the entire team. The common room of the compound had been transformed into something warm and inviting, lit by the soft glow of string lights draped along the walls. A cake sat on the counter, half-eaten, its candles long blown out, but the remnants of your laughter from when you made your wish still lingered in the air.

From across the room, Bucky watched as Sam teased you about getting older, earning the bird-man a playful swat on his arm. Wanda handed you a small, neatly wrapped gift, and your eyes lit up in a way that made Bucky’s chest ache. He didn’t know what was in the box. He didn’t really care. All he knew was that he wanted to be the reason behind that breathtaking smile of yours.

And then, your eyes lifted.

The eye contact was fleeting. Brief. Gone by the time Bucky realized what was happening and forced his gaze away. Even then, Bucky still caught the hint of surprise as your eyes found his, replaced almost immediately by a longing that Bucky understood all too well. It clutched onto his heart, sinking its sharp nails until the life organ in his chest was bruised and brutally torn apart.

The Captain sighed. “You're being an idiot, pal.”

Bucky knew Steve was right—he was being an idiot. A coward, even. It was his own damn foolishness that had kept him avoiding you for weeks, skipping your morning spars, slipping out of any room you occupied before you could even notice his presence. All because he couldn’t handle the feelings that had taken root in his chest, the one that was growing stronger by the minute, infiltrating deeper into his system every time you so much as looked his way.

The party was still in full swing by the time Bucky decided to retire for the night, forgoing the goodbyes, heading straight to the elevator that took him back to his quarters. It was a few hours later when a clumsy knock sounded against his door, breaking through the quiet that had settled in his room.

“Sugar?”

Bucky's hand clenched around the door handle, his eyebrows knitting together at the sight of you in front of his bedroom.

“Hi, Buckyyy,” you greeted, your words slurring into uncontrollable giggles.

Understanding dawned on Bucky's shoulders. “Sweetheart, are you drunk?”

“Am not!” You huffed, pushing past a stunned Bucky to enter the bedroom.

You looked around for a moment, humming to yourself every time you came across a familiar token that decorated Bucky's room. There was a photo of you and him on the nightsand, a sketch of the Brooklyn Bridge courtesy of Steve hanging on the wall, and a few vinyl records stacked neatly on the shelf, gifted by various members of the team. At last, your steps halted beside the bed, and without a warning, you dove head first into the mattress, chuckling to yourself as you attempted to make snow angels with his blankets.

“This is sooo niceee,” you mused, burying youself deeper into one of Bucky's pillows. “Smells like you, Buck.”

The super soldier tried not to dwell too much on the sight of you lying on his bed, looking like you had always belonged in the same place that Bucky took his rest. A shiver ran down Bucky's spine as he closed the door behind him, his feet quiet against the carpeted floor before he took a tentative seat on the edge of the bed.

“Sugar?” Bucky took your shoulders in his grasp, turning you around until his eyes locked with yours. His heart staggered. “You wanna get back to your room? I could take you.”

His offer made you sit up in seconds, so fast that Bucky feared you might have given yourself a whiplash. He stared at you as your lips trembled, your whole body turning away from him until you were just a breadth out of his reach.

His fingers contracted in grief.

“Hey, Sugar? What's—”

“Why do you hate me?”

Silence.

Bucky's forehead creased in confusion.

“Hate you?” Bucky tasted the accusation on his tongue—the word being so foreign and farfetched from anything he could associate with you that Bucky had to wonder if he had misheard what you spoke. “Sweetheart, I don't hate you.”

“Liar.” You scoffed, scooting towards the foot of the bed, seemingly adamant to draw as much distance as possible between Bucky and yourself. “You have been avoiding me for weeks. You don't want to talk to me, or do anything with me. You hate me.”

Bucky blinked, stunned into momentary silence before shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of the sheer absurdity of your words. “That’s not true,” he murmured, his voice rough with something that sounded dangerously close to regret.

You laughed at his response—a wry, sarcastic laugh that was void of even the smallest hint of your usual warmth. “Then what other possible reason could you have for avoiding me, Bucky? Hm?” Your head turned towards him, and for the first time that night, Bucky finally saw the telltale sign of tears in your eyes, a glassy sheen that erased any remnant of the wits that Bucky had grown to know and love.

His stomach churned.

Guilt was eating at him alive. He couldn't believe that his stupidity had caused this—that he had hurt you due to his own incapability of controlling his emotions. Bucky didn't know what he was thinking when he decided that the best course of action would be to completely evade you, but he certainly didn't think that it would result in this.

With you, sitting on his bed, crying your eyes out while simultaneously breaking Bucky's heart in the process.

Bucky exhaled sharply, as if the weight of his own remorse was pressing down on his chest. He couldn't stand it—the way your shoulders quivered, the way you tried so desperately to keep your composure together as tears welled in your eyes.

"Sweetheart," he rasped, reaching for you, his fingers hesitant at first before firming in resolve. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

You stiffened at his touch, your lips parting as if to protest, but Bucky was already pulling you into his embrace, holding you tightly against the muscular panes of his chest. His hands skimmed soothingly along your back, whispers of sweet nothings falling from his lips as he rocked you in the safety of his arms.

“I don't hate you, Sugar,” he murmured, voice shattering around the edges. “I've never hated you. How could I?”

How could I hate you when you are the only source of light I have remaining in this world? How could I hate you when loving you is the only thing about my life that I am absolutely certain of?

Your breath hitched against his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Bucky—”

“Shh,” he soothed, pressing his lips to your temple in a featherlight touch. “Just let me hold you, okay?”

Slowly, he guided the both of you down onto his bed, his arms never loosening from where they were wrapped around your body. His heartbeat thumped steadily beneath your cheek, his fingers drawing lazy patterns against your back. The tension in your body melted bit by bit with each gentle word, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into something softer—something safe.

“Don't ever do that to me again,” you warned shakily. “Promise me.”

Bucky's hold around you tightened. “I promise.”

“Good.” You sighed, exhaustion wearing down every inch of your bones. “You're my favorite person, Bucky.”

The admission pierced Bucky's chest like a lightning strike. He knew he should not have read too much into it, that the revelation was nothing more than a drunken slip of tongue that you probably would not even remember in the morning. But for now, Bucky chose to let that little detail slide, to let himself pretend that the confession had been made with more purposeful intent behind it—that the words had meant as much to you as it did to Bucky.

"Sleep, sweetheart," he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. "I've got you."

Since that night in his bedroom, Bucky had made a vow: he wasn't going to run anymore.

Bucky had learned his lesson. He wasn't going to let his own fears dictate his actions, nor would he allow his emotions ruin the precious friendship he had built with you over the past few years. Whatever he felt—whatever torment clawed at his chest whenever you so much as looked his way—it was his burden to bear. You didn't deserve to suffer for his cowardice, and he swore to himself that he would never let it happen again.

That thought lingered in Bucky's mind as he moved stealthily through the abandoned industrial site, gun drawn, boots scraping silently against the cracked concrete floor. The mission was straightforward: take out remaining hostiles, extract any valuable intel, and regroup. Simple. A basic in and out job that would be done just in time for dinner.

The team had split into pairs, and as fate would have it—or rather, as Steve would have it—Bucky found himself assigned to the west wing of the site alongside you. The direct channel to your comms in Bucky’s earpiece was quiet, and the super soldier took it as a good indication that your side of the mission was going smoothly. Meanwhile, he swept through his own side of hallways with methodical precision, checking every room, muttering a curt “clear” to his comms for each canvassed area.

The air was eerie with cold and mold when Bucky entered the last remaining room in the hallway. There was nothing particularly different about this one. It was just as empty and as menacing, smelling of rat’s piss and years of abandonment, though his seasoned instinct—one sculpted from years of fighting and survival—warned him that something was amiss. His fingers tightened around his weapon almost instinctively, feeling an immediate unease venture up his spine, raising the very hair on the back of his neck.

The silence was too perfect.

Bucky’s feet skidded to a stop, turning on his heel to retrace his steps back towards the entrance.

Then, it happened.

The ambush struck like lightning on water. One second Bucky was alone, and the next, shadows had flooded the room, faceless figures in tactical gears leaping towards him at the same time. They were fast and ruthless, and even though none seemed to possess enhanced abilities, Bucky was still outnumbered. He dodged the first three attackers easily enough—disarming the blade from the first assailant’s hand, ducking out of the swinging baton of the second’s, and rolling on the floor before redirecting the third one’s bullet with the palm of his vibranium arm.

Bucky dashed out of the room into the one right across, the group of attackers still hot on his tail. He ducked behind a metal table and started opening fires at the entrance, taking out the threats before they even got the chance to enter the room. A curse fell under his breath when Bucky realized that he had worked through his rounds, scrambling to replace the ammunition as footsteps thundered into the room.

Slamming the fresh magazine in place, Bucky inhaled a gearing breath, only to be met with a sudden hush that descended through the air.

He raised his gun.

Instead of finding himself at the end of numerous gun barrels, Bucky was granted the view of bodies scattered all over the floor. The tang of iron meshed detestably with the spoor of grime, fog swirling around the edge of Bucky’s adrenaline-honed mind. When the dust finally stifled, his focus immediately zeroed in on the figure standing amidst the wreckage, rising out of the smoke like a doomsday’s salvation.

“Hi, handsome.” You smiled around a heavy exhale, a crinkle in your eye that seized the very life out of Bucky’s lungs. “Miss me?”

Bucky let out a rough breath, somewhere between relief and admiration. The grip around his weapon slackened ever so slightly, his body still thrumming with fight-and-flight, though the sight of your beautiful smile had managed to wash him with the kind of serenity that no other person could compel.

“Was wondering when you’d show up, sweetheart,” Bucky said, rising from his makeshift fortress behind the table.

“Sorry, Sarge.” You hummed, casually brushing the dust off Bucky’s shoulder as though the contact didn’t send him skyrocketing to heaven. “You know I like to keep people on their toes.”

Bucky failed to suppress his grin, nudging your shoulder as the two of you headed towards the entrance. With the hostiles neutralized, and the information uploaded to the flash drive discreetly tucked in the safety of Bucky’s inside pocket, the two of you were prepared for extraction. He redirected his comms to the main channel, alerting the other team members that the two of you were ready to wrap up and get the hell out of this dismal place.

He was barely a foot out of the door when a loud bang resonated in the air.

In a split second, Bucky sprung in retaliation, taking aim at one of the bloody assailants on the ground that had somehow taken hold of a gun, Bucky’s finger pulling at his own weapon’s trigger, assassinating him in place.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Bucky’s heart throbbed in his throat, a silent prayer on his lips at how close of a call it had almost been. His gaze took a quick scan of the pile of bodies on the floor, making sure that none of them would pull a similar stunt, only allowing his shoulders to deflate when he saw no remaining signs of life.

“Bucky?”

Your voice barely reached him, thin despite the echoic air of this dingy site, but something inside Bucky twisted the moment he heard it.

When he turned, the initial relief that had flooded his chest instantly collapsed.

You were standing there, just a breadth out of reach with your gun still tightly clutched between your fingers. But the side of your neck—God, the side of your neck—was slick with red, thick and dark as it ran in angry runnels down your skin, staining the collar of your tactical gear, pooling on your shoulder and drenching everything it touched.

Your whole body swayed.

Bucky’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.

“No, no, no—” he rasped as he caught you, arms winding around your frame to prevent you from hitting the floor. His knees slammed onto the cold concrete below as he cradled you against his chest, the tremble in his body betraying the steel he was supposed to be made out of.

Bucky blinked, willing this moment to splinter into a dream, willing for his body to be transported back into the comfort of his bedroom where the scene playing out in front of his eyes would be nothing more than a heinous nightmare. But as Bucky’s arms tightened around your limp figure, the awful, gut-wrenching truth settled like ice in his veins.

This was real.

The blood seeping through your gear wasn’t imagined. The faint hitch in your breath, the loss of color from your face, the sheer terror clawing its way up his throat—none of it was a dream.

His chest crashed.

“Hey, hey. I got you, Sugar.” His voice cracked as he pressed a palm against your wound, despairingly staunching the warmth from slipping through his fingers. But no matter how hard he was grasping, the blood just kept on flowing—too fast and too much—soaking his hands and every corner of his battered soul.

“Shit. Stay with me, sweetheart. Please,” he begged. “Steve! Nat! Somebody get here now!” he barked into his earpiece, nails digging deeper into your skin. “We need a medic! We need a—fuck—just get down here!”

You made a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, your breath warm against his cheek as you murmured, “I-It’s gonna… gonna be o-okay.”

It was a lie.

You both knew it.

And it destroyed him.

“Don’t do that.” Bucky shook his head, his voice cracking around a choked sob. He forced a smile as he looked down at your pale face. “You always suck at lying.”

Your lips parted, the faintest ghost of a smile trying to make its way through, only to be interrupted by a wet cough that made Bucky’s chest cave in.

“Gotta stay with me, sweetheart. Please,” Bucky whimpered. “The team’s coming. Help is on the way. Just gotta hang in there a little more for me, yeah? Just a little longer. Please.”

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure to whom he was begging—whether it was you, the universe, or any higher divine power that might have heard his wretched prayer and taken pity on him. A man who had lost everything and asked for nothing, who was now asking for someone—anyone—to save the only thing in this world that made his life worth living, even if it meant having to sacrifice his soul in exchange.

Your hand reached out tentatively, shakily, gripping the strap of his tactical jacket and giving it the faintest tug.

“Bucky,” you whispered, voice dissipating like a wisp of smoke as soon as you had uttered his name. Your eyes, glassy and unfocused, searched for his, and when they finally found him, a weak smile curved at your lips. “I love you.”

A sound tore from his throat, raw and full of despair. His forehead dropped against yours, his entire body rupturing under the weight of your words.

“I love you.” Bucky’s voice stammered. “God, I love you—I love you, sweetheart, I love you so much.” He pressed his lips against your clammy forehead, again and again, as though he could tether you here, as though his love alone could be enough to keep you from slipping away.

He should have been happy—should have felt something else other than this hollow, scorching agony. The person of his dreams, the one he had spent sleepless nights longing for, had just made the one admission that his heart had been wanting to hear, and yet, all he could do was break. His whole being perished under the weight of everything left unsaid, every moment wasted, every regret carving him open from the inside out.

He should have told you sooner.

God, he should have just told you—should have braced past his insecurities and found the courage somehow, should have showered you with every drop of love he had neatly stowed in his heart until he was shriveled and had no else to give. He should have bought you flowers everyday, let you know that you were the most beautiful person Bucky had ever met on this goddamn planet—because you deserved it.

You deserved everything.

Not this.

Not bleeding on the filthy floor of this desolate place, fighting off death that had bludgeoned its way right through your door.

“You’re gonna be okay, Sugar. We’re getting out of here, you hear me?” His breath stuttered, his grip tightening as if he could physically gather all of your fragmented pieces and mend you as new. “I’m gonna treat you so good. You’ll see. Gonna spoil you rotten like I ought to. Just—please, just hold on—”

Your fingers twitched against his chest. Your eyes fluttered.

A quivering breath left your lips before your body went completely limp.

Bucky stilled.

“Sugar?”

Nothing.

No soft inhale. No faint murmurs of response.

No squeeze of your fingers against his jacket.

Bucky’s entire world came crashing down in the blink of an eye.

“No. No, no, no, no—”

His hand cupped your face, blood smearing from his skin to yours. Bucky’s fingers trembled as he tapped your cheek, as if the action alone could keep you here, could bring you back to him. His breathing ceased, his whole body shuddering as he rocked you in his arms, your name tumbling over and over again from his lips like a prayer, like a curse, like a plea to the universe to undo everything, to give him one more chance, to take him instead.

“Come back to me,” he whispered, his face wet with the fractured shards of his heart. “Please.”

The only thing that acknowledged him was silence.

And Bucky Barnes had never hated the quiet more.

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marvelwitchergilmore · 19 days ago

Text

Trouble

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> When Bucky first meets you, he thinks you're nothing but trouble. Eventually, it becomes a nickname you answer to.

Disclaimer: fluff with steamy moments at the end, enemies-ish to lovers, hint of fake dating as Bucky is Reader's wedding date, Bucky gets a little jealous, sharing a hotel room, reader works for Shield, Sam and Maria are mentioned to be engaged, swearing. Not fully proof read.

“Hey, Trouble.”

You gave a short sigh, but kept the smile on your face. “Morning, Buck.”

Bucky had been calling you ‘Trouble’ since the first day he met you. Granted, having first met you, he thought you were trouble. You’d been inside a building they were surveying and he mistook you for one of the gang members he and Sam had been watching for the last three months. You’d given them the slip that evening, only to turn up in their Monday morning meeting.

Hill had hired you.

“Hill, she’s nothing but trouble. We caught her-”

“I know you did.”

Sam looked at his fiance. “And you’re still gonna hire her?”

Maria nodded with her arms folded across her chest. In honesty, it was more like a shrug before she turned to you. You’d been far too relaxed in your seat since Bucky had walked inside. Just another indicator that you were trouble. And you were smiling. Smirking?

Maybe a bit of both.

“I was a Fed.”

“You’re a Fed?”

You shook your head. “Was. Was a Fed.”

Maria continued for you. “She graduated first in her class in everything. Field work and academics, alike. Y/n has been on our radar for a while.”

Because you were trouble.

Bucky felt Sam nudge him. “Subtitles, Buck. You might not be saying anything but we can see it on your face. I can see it on your face.”

Bucky just scowled more. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Credentials like hers don’t come across my desk too often these days. I wanted to see if she was the real deal so I sent her to tail you two.”

Both men did a double take of Maria and yourself. “Us?!”

You laughed a little at their surprise. “Yes, you. You know, for two of the world's best Avengers you are both terrible at being secretive. In the space of three days I’ve managed to find out your routines.”

“Three-” Sam’s words spat from his mouth. “Three days?! You’ve had her following us for three days?”

Maria shrugged, again. “Told you training was coming soon. Gotta find a way to keep you both of your toes.”

It was then Sam’s turn to scowl. He understood why, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. Three days? He and Buck had been followed for three days by-by-by a, a what, a teeneger?

It was only when you replied, “I’m in my 20s.”, did Sam realise he’d said his question out loud.

“You’re a fetus.” Bucky said before looking at you. Biologically, he might be in his 30s. But his birthday was over a hundred years ago.

You just smiled at him.

“Y/n’s gonna be joining your team.”

“What?” Bucky asked, almost giving himself whiplash as he turned back to Maria.

“Relax, Sergeant Barnes.” He looked back at you. “I’ll mostly be working alongside Captain Torres. As fun as field work can be, I’m a lot more useful to both of you behind a monitor. So, if you ever need anything hacking. Government secrets? Secret chambers? That dating profile Sam set up in your honour?”

Nearly giving himself whiplash again, Bucky looked at Sam. And, as guiltless as he tried to look, he failed. He’d set him a dating profile up? When?!

“You just let me know,” you smiled. “Am I free to go, Director?”

Maria nodded. “Bishop agreed to meet you outside your apartment to help you get settled in.”

You nodded with a smile. “Thank you.” Then you turned back to your new teammates. “See you boys on Wednesday.”

That had been almost three years ago. It had taken all of twenty minutes for Bucky to adopt your new nickname. Trouble. In the beginning, it had been because he thought that’s what you were; trouble. Bad news. But, after a while, you started to wear him down.

It had taken a week for Sam to get used to you, and less than five minutes for Torres. He liked the way you kept “the grump” as you called him, on his toes.

Eventually the nickname of Trouble moved away from hatred to a little more affectionate. It did take you entering field duty again without letting anyone know, saving both Bucky and Sam’s lives when they got cornered in a run down mansion out in the middle of nowhere.

But never once had you forced a smile at the nickname. So, when you said “Morning, Buck.”, Bucky stopped in his tracks. He looked up from his clipboard, silently watching you for a moment.

Even if your entire body wasn’t dripping with sweat as you continued to pummel the swinging punching bag in front of you, and even if your hair hadn’t been frizzing out from your rough ponytail as the back of your head; Bucky still would have known you were stressed.

You never forced a smile around him. You’d been exasperated, tired, exhausted, angry, kind, loveable, happy, joyful, excited and every other emotion around him. But never once had you faked a smile around him.

Around others? Sure. That was how he knew this one was fake.

“Hold your horses.” Bucky said as he walked closer to you.

You sighed, pulling your punches from the bag before finally standing still.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing-” You started, shaking your head. But he wasn’t biting.

“No, not nothing. What’s going on? You’re glaring at the bag like it owes you six months rent. What’s going on?”

You sighed, completely exhausted. “Nothing, Buck. It’s fine. I swear.”

“Trouble?”

You looked at Bucky.

For as long as you’d been alive, you’d been able to read people. Their inner thoughts, their deepest feelings. But nobody had ever been able to read you.

Until Bucky.

Sam tried his best, as did Torres. And, credit where credit is due, they did well. But that was only when you weren’t trying to hide it. A long day at work? A show ending the way you didn’t want it to?

But days like this?

You’d gone all week without letting people see. And you knew they couldn’t see. But Bucky? It was like he could see right into your soul.

And it scared the crap outta you.

“Bucky…” Your voice was soft, pleading for him not to dig.

It took all of thirty seconds for him to look away from you, looking at the ceiling with a short sigh. “Alright, come on.”

Taking you by the shoulder, he stepped you away from the punching bag and hooked the clipboard under his arm before taking your wrapped hands into his. Then he started to unravel the bandages. He could already see the small bruises on your knuckles.

“You’re gonna need to ice them.”

He said nothing else as he unravelled your hands. Then, he took hold of one. He dropped the clipboard on the bench as he walked you both over to your gym bag before dropping your wraps into it.

“Bucky-”

“Come with me.”

“Buck- Bucky.” You looked around you, confused as to why he was dragging you out of the gym. “James!”

He pulled you beside him before pressing a gentle hand on your lower back.

“This feels like ‘The Quiet Man’. Where the hell are we going?”

“I’m getting you out of the compound.”

You almost started jogging beside him. “Okay, I get you’ve been trying to fire me since day one but you don’t actually have that authority.”

Well, at least you were still joking with him. Even if he had tried in the early stages, he hadn’t tried to get you fired in over two years.

Eventually you stopped arguing, simply sighing and saying, “Fuck it.”

Whether he was gonna try and fire you, kidnap you or drag you to a church in Ireland to get married; it was better than staying in the compound, throwing punches hard enough to break the bag for a second time.

Two hours later, Bucky’s motorbike was parked up in the dirt road behind you both as you sat beside each other, your legs hanging over the edge of the grassy hill.

“Feeling better?” Bucky asked as you were half way through your food.

You nodded, a lot calmer than you were back at the compound.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Then after a beat, he spoke up again.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You shrugged. “Not much to say.”

“I think the punching bag might disagree.”

Bucky watched as a smile flexed subtly on your face. But after a split second, it disappeared. Your shoulders, somehow, dropped lower and you shook your head.

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Then start at the beginning.”

“I’m starting to regret showing you the movies you missed.”

Bucky chuckled to himself quietly. Since you had become friends…kinda…you’d taken it upon yourself. Or rather, you and Joaquin, had taken it upon yourselves, with Sam’s help, to bring Bucky up to speed on everything he’d missed since being in the ice.

It was on the nights when it was just you and him; maybe Sam was called away by his sister or his fiance, or Joaquin went to see his family. It was on those nights where you’d show Bucky the true classics. The ones he would have secretly loved if he’d gotten a chance to see them when they first got released.

They were some of his favourite memories with you.

Taking in a breath, you tried to work out in your head where the beginning was.

“Work’s kinda taking its toll on me.” Finally admitting that outloud felt a lot easier than you’d thought it would. Bucky seemed to always have that effect on you. He made things easier. “I, uh, I’ve been asked to guest lecture at my old Training Academy and they keep trying to make me agree to a full time contract. The students apparently have learnt a lot and it makes their attendance records look better than they have done in years. Though, I’m pretty sure they only attended the lecture in the hopes that Joaquin would turn up again.”

Bucky just sat and listened to you as you looked out to the rest of the city.

“I enjoy doing them, and I know the students like asking questions some of the teachers won’t answer directly. But between the missions, and the intel gathering. That’s taking me a lot longer than it used to, by the way and I hate it. I used to be able to crack open almost anything. But since tech development or whatever…criminals are a lot smarter than they used to be when it comes to their encryption.”

You took a few more breaths before continuing.

“My family has been calling more and more recently, too. Don’t get me wrong. I-I love em’. But…” You let out a long breath. “It’s everyday. They’re asking for new information and I don’t have it. I’ve had a good day – that’s all I can say. I’m not dead. I spend my day going over lines and lines of data. What the fuck am I meant to say? And then I got an invite through my door last week inviting me to my cousin’s wedding and the phone calls from home have basically tripled. I’ve had to switch my answering machine off. They were filling it; have you got the invite yet? When are you gonna reply? You’re gonna be sitting next to your aunt from your dad’s side, you know I can’t stand that woman. Have you got your dress yet? Your dress is important, you need to look your best for the photos, Grandma will want ten copies, have you got a date yet? Do you need a date? Do you want me to ask your cousin if she has any single friends? Or maybe her fiance knows somebody? You can’t come to a wedding alone. Or maybe it’s best, that way we can help you find someone-”

Bucky laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, hey, okay. Okay, breathe. Deep breaths.”

You took some more deep breaths.

“It’s a never ending cycle, Buck. I-I go from one extreme to the other and…and I don’t know what I’m meant to do. I love my family, but right now I can’t think of anything worse than flying home and seeing them right now. And, as much as I love my work, I’d rather wait before I see another line of data.”

Bucky didn’t say anything for a while. He just studied you. The way your shoulders fell, the way your true feelings and pure exhaustion took over your expression, the way your voice dropped from the hurried pace from earlier.

“You’re burning yourself out.”

Now, you finally looked at him.

“You need to take a break. Call Hill in the morning and tell her you’re taking two weeks. If you don’t, I’ll do it for you.”

“But we’ve got-”

“The next mission won’t happen until next month. But you need a break. Y/n. And as for your family, what if I went with you?”

“What?”

“Take me as your date.”

A small laugh escaped you. “Bucky, you don’t-”

“What?” He leaned back, his expression teasing. “Too handsome?”

“It’s not that-”

“Too old?” Bucky gave a short gasp. “I gotta tell ya, that’s ageist.”

You laughed. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…you don’t have to do that for me.”

“Why not? You’re my friend.”

“Oh, we’re friends now?”

Bucky shrugged. “I won’t tell, if you don’t.”

You smiled, softly.

“Come on, what could go wrong?”

You nodded, slowly. “My family will meet you and never want to let you go, that’s what.”

Bucky just shrugged again. “Can’t help it. Mom’s love me.”

“Bucky, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. And I’m telling you to take the offer.”

You remained silent as you kept your eyes on him. Bucky watched as you bit your bottom lip pensively, like you were running through every worse case scenario before getting to the good ones.

“Come on,” he whispered. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Finally, you agreed. “Okay.”

For the next two weeks, you spent most of your time relaxing, completing the jobs in your apartment you’d ignored over time and dress shopping for the wedding that would be taking place in two months time.

By the time you got back to work, things felt less like a tsunami being thrown over you and after the mission, a wedding with your family didn’t seem too terrible.

“Do I have to wear a bow-tie?” Bucky called out from the hotel room as you remained in the bathroom, fixing your make-up.

You’d left him twenty minutes ago to get dressed.

“According to the invite, it’s compulsory.”

You heard Bucky groan a little before swearing at what you gathered was either himself, the invite or the bow-tie.

“Why couldn’t it be a normal tie?”

“Because my cousin loves the idea of Old Hollywood.”

“Technically, when I went into the ice it was just known as Hollywood. And we wore ties.”

You chuckled, putting your lipstick brush down before quickly blotting your lips twice. Throwing the tissue into the bin by the door, you walked out of the bathroom, around and around the corner and back into your shared hotel room.

“Parts of culture have been lost to time sadly, so bow-ties it is,” you said as you came into view. “Come here. I’ll do it.”

Bucky had caught a glimpse of you in the mirror, but seeing the real you. Not the reflected version…that was something else entirely. The colour complimented you in a way he’d never seen before, and the way it hugged and draped on your body was making his mind think things that he shouldn’t be thinking about his friend and co-worker.

You were stunningly gorgeous.

As you stood in front of him, so close that if he leaned forward just a touch, he could press his lips to yours, his senses becoming filled with you and his hands itched to touch you. To hold you by your waist or your hips, just to keep you standing so close to him.

“There.” You leaned back a little before looking at him with that smile that, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, had made him weak at the knees since the first day he’d met you.

With your hands braced on his shoulders, you turned him around to face the mirror. “You look handsome.”

It wasn’t a genuine compliment covered up by a joke. You weren’t teasing him.

You were being genuinely honest.

And you tried to ignore the way he looked at you and the feelings it gave you in your chest, but meeting his eyes in the mirror only seemed to make that feeling grow.

You hadn’t missed the way Bucky had stopped as you entered the room and how it took him a moment before his body kicked back into gear in order to stand in front of you. But you tried to ignore what you were feeling at seeing him dressed the way he was.

Often he was in henley t-shirts and jeans when he wasn’t in his field uniform. So, seeing him all clean cut and in a tux was making you feel things. Since the henley’s were almost every day, you’d been able to, over the years, make yourself slightly immune to the feelings they gave you.

But you’d never seen him in a tux.

Even if you didn’t know he’d been in his 20s in the forties, seeing him dressed like this would have given you the feeling that he definitely had been in a past life.

“We better go before we’re late.”

Bucky tried to find comprehensible words to say. The best he could come up with was, “Yeah.”

It wasn’t until the reception that he would finally be able to tell you how beautiful he found you.

The wedding had been beautiful, every corner of the wedding venue being draped in silk. The dinner had gone off without a hitch. You and Bucky were seated together and despite the judgy comments from your aunt, Bucky held your hand throughout the entire thing, answering each question your aunt threw at him.

And by the time people were invited onto the dance floor after the bride and groom, your aunt, happy with your choice of a date, nudged him to ask you to do as much.

All he did was hold out his hand and looking from him, to the dance floor and back again, you took his hand.

“I, uh, I don’t-”

Bucky said nothing. With a light smirk on his face, he did what he’d wanted to do all night. Well, one of the things.

Stepping into you, his hand firmly on your waist, he gently threw one of your hands to his shoulder before holding your other one firmly in his.

“Okay.” Bucky heard you say quietly.

His light smirk formed a small smile. “I might not know how to tie a bow-tie, but I do know how to dance.”

You nodded. “That. Is. Clear.”

You felt a little awkward, trying to keep your head away from the thoughts it was spilling into.

Bucky chuckled and you felt his gravelly breath by the shell of your ear. “Just trust me, doll. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

You did, eventually, manage to relax a little as the song bled on. And, just as it started to feel easy and natural to be held by him in this way, his words sent both your head and your heart into a spin.

“You’re gorgeous, by the way.” You leaned your head back a little to look at him. Was he fucking with you? “Stunning.”

You were thankful the lights were dimmer than they had been at dinner. It gave you at least a little cover for the heat that overtook your cheeks.

“Thank you.”

Nothing else was said after that. You couldn’t keep looking at him, in fear that if you looked at him for too long, he’d be able to see right through you.

So, with your temple resting against his, you let him lead you in a slow dance along with the rest of the couples.

A little ways through the dance, you felt Bucky’s hand on your waist dip a little lower and onto your hip before moving to your back where you could feel his fingers softly trailing up and down your back against your dress.

You felt yourself shiver at his touch.

Bucky smirked a little by the shell of your ear. “Cold?”

When you spoke, your voice felt a little strangled to your ears. “No.”

You heard a small hum from his chest before he pulled you closer, or maybe you stepped closer to him, and his fingers softly continued to trail up and down.

A few songs later, both you and Bucky sitting at a new table that your mother had dragged you to, you were asked to dance with someone your uncle had dragged over to meet you. And throughout your entire dance with the new guy, you just wished you were back in Bucky’s arms.

However, as you danced, you failed to notice the way he was looking at you. But your cousin hadn’t. When Bucky’s eyes fell on you, he had a mixed look in them. Complete adoration and love, and that he could eat you alive. But when his eyes fell on the guy you were slightly awkwardly dancing with, a darker look took over.

Jealousy.

You’d told her that you’d be bringing a date, and from what your family had told her, your date was just a friend. But having watched both of you dance, and the way Bucky was looking at you…you certainly were not ‘just’ friends.

And even if you were, it wouldn’t be for long.

Then Bucky stood, carefully making his way over to you. And the look in your eyes when you spotted him making his way over…

Your cousin was certain the next wedding she would be attending would be yours.

“Mind me cutting in?”

The guy shook his head and stepped back, saying quiet words of kindness to you. But once you found yourself in Bucky’s arms, you felt yourself melt.

“Thank you.”

“You looked like you had a stone in your shoes, trying to dance with him.”

“That’s kinda what it felt like. Glad to know I’ve got acting skills to fall back on if I ever want to quit. Or if you get me fired.”

“I’ll only get you fired if you start causing trouble, Trouble.”

A light smile appeared on your lips for a few seconds before you disappeared into his shoulder to hide your face from him.

Two more dances and a conversation split between three different groups later, you were ready to go home. You said goodbye to your cousin, both you and Bucky complimenting her and the wedding before taking your leave.

By the time you got back to the hotel, taking your heels off in the lobby, thankful to feel the cold marble floor beneath your feet, the clock was starting to reach midnight.

Bucky took your hand in his, leading you to the elevator. And where you both could have stood opposite each other, without thinking, he pulled you into his side. Both of you stood in the centre of the elevator, Bucky leaned over and pressed the button to your floor.

In the silence, Bucky watching the numbers climb higher and higher, you took time to look at him. The shape of him, his jawline. He’d taken his jacket off and given it to you on the walk inside to the hotel. The bow-tie was now loose and around his neck.

“You’re staring.”

For the first time that night, you didn’t look away from him.

“Can’t help it.”

Bucky looked back at you just before the doors to the elevator rang open. There was a soft smirk resting on his lips.

“Come on, Trouble.”

Leading you out of the elevator, you pulled the hotel room key from your purse before sliding it into the door. With a beep, the latch unlocked itself and you pushed the handle down and Bucky helped you push the door open.

The entire room was quiet. The moonlight floated behind the soft curtains, lighting up a few spaces on the carpet. The room remained quiet as you and Bucky walked around before he opened up the two dividing doors that led to his bedroom.

Looking over your shoulder, you watched the muscles in his back tense as he opened the two doors and walked inside. And, despite wishing to stay and watch the show of Bucky getting undressed, you moved towards your bathroom. Zipping down the side panel zip, you let the gown fall to the floor before you pulled the clean pajamas you’d left on the counter over your head and up your legs.

Despite the hour, you and Bucky stayed up a little longer to talk. He was back in a henley shirt and some long plaid pajama bottoms.

The same ones you’d bought him when you’d been his Secret Santa two years ago.

Your make-up had long been washed away and you and Bucky spent at least forty minutes gossiping about what the third cousin on your mom’s side had been wearing in replace of a hat.

Then you had to say your goodnights.

Only, as he closed the dividing door behind him, you felt like something was missing. You wanted him to stay. You wanted to keep talking to him. You wanted him…you wanted him to touch you the same way he had done on the dance floor, his voice gravelly by your ear, sending goosebumps across your body in a way nobody had ever done before.

Little did you know, Bucky wanted the same.

He could hear your footsteps on the carpet behind the door. The soft light from the lamp in your room shone under the door and he could see your shadow walking back and forth. Each time you walked back to the door, so did he. Only to then see it walk away, so he did the same.

For the fifth time, you walked back towards Bucky’s door. Except, before you could walk back across the rest of your room, the door opened.

And there he was. In the glow of moonlight from his own room, barely six feet from you. Neither of you said anything for a few moments, just letting the silent conversation pass between you.

“I don’t want tonight to end.”

The words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them, or reword them. But you didn’t need to. If anyone understood you, it was Bucky.

You didn’t know who moved first, but barely a second later, Bucky’s hands were pushing through your hair, pulling you closer as his lips crashed against yours. Throwing your arms over his shoulders, you pulled him closer before fisting his t-shirt.

A moan vibrated from his chest as you pulled him closer, letting his kiss deepen. His finger ran through the lengths of your hair, gently pulling.

As his steps carried him forward, yours carried you back until eventually he spun you, lifting you into his arms. Feeling your back secure against the wall, his hands supporting you, your body rocked against his hips as he leaned forward, driving your own further into the wall.

You moaned a little as his tongue slipped past your lips and his fingers squeezed at your flesh.

By the time you both woke up in the morning, breakfast had long been over, the sheets would be a completely tangled mess. And yourself and Bucky would be in a similar position; limbs tangled with one another's, heartbeats steady enough it could be mistaken for one, and the feeling of his fingers trailing up and down your spine.

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