Sky Full of Song (7)
series summary: Despite the bitter resentment of the crew, you found a home on Captain Barnes’ ship. But when course is plotted for a legendary island, the secret that has kept you alive for years is threatened to be revealed. Pirate/Siren AU
pairings: pirate!bucky x pirate/siren!reader
chapter word count: 7k
warnings: canon level violence, a moment of confrontation, shit goes down
🏴☠️ series masterlist // series playlist
You woke with a crick in your neck.
Sleep took you swiftly after Dugan retreated up the stairs, your body depleted from rush of ocean currents over sore muscles and the use of the siren’s song. You wouldn’t regain its power again for at least another week – and that was assuming your recovery time was the same as it was as a child when you’d used it without understanding its consequences on your muddied mortal blood.
It was an awful feeling to strip someone of their free will. Your father had warned you once that it would entice you, that it would draw you in like the shiny gems you chased across the seas, that it would ravage your mind like a disease. It was an addiction, he’d told you. An addiction to the power it would give you over another – to bend their will to your own making.
There was no piece of you that did not feel unnerved and shamed for the use of the siren’s song. No shred of satisfaction in the power it lent you – power that sought to destroy you as easily as it would its victim. You’d broken the will of the one man who risked everything to give you a chance aboard his ship, who had sought to save your life despite knowing his own path would lead him to the depths of the water.
There was no coming back from that betrayal.
The siren’s song never held an appeal for you before. It had only been something you coexisted with, learned to ignore within yourself. Now, it felt like a plague. A weapon you could not shake from your body. A shameful burden you would carry with you for the rest of your life. No matter how short that may be.
You groaned as you pushed yourself upright, leaning against the outer bars of the cell. Hay stuck into your still dampened hair, clinging to the sweat on your skin. Fragments of the straws caught within the barbed necklace laced around your throat – prickles of fresh blood bubbling over the dried bits around the barbs. Your shoulders ached from where your arms were constricted at the base of your spine, bindings still wrapped at your wrists. Raw and bloodied skin rubbed against the ropes.
Slowly, your eyes began to adjust to the dim light of the brig. A single candle was hung in the far distance beyond the cell, offering only a glimpse of light. The darkness it carried seemed to leave behind something under your skin – an uneasiness, an awful sense of loneliness despite the dozens of men stomping their boots about the deck.
You’d never once felt lonely on this ship. Not even under the knowledge that most of the crew resented your place amongst their ranks. No – you had the ocean, you had the small group of friends you’d made of good, decent men. You had your captain.
You swallowed back a lump burning in your throat, tears threatening your eyes. The sharp edges of the barbed collar pierced your skin with every strangled inhale. It hurt no less than the splintering in your chest.
A slight shift of movement within the brig stilled you to stone. You held your breath, wondering whether Lawrence had snuck into the cellar to be rid of you before the captain could carry out his own justice.
Would that be better, you wondered. Easier, perhaps? To never have to see the look of disgust in your captain’s eyes?
A figure was sitting on the barrels of rum, just outside the cell. You weren’t sure how you’d missed it before – shadows covering his face, his hands busy cleaning a trusted revolver. Blending into the darkness as if he were made for it. As if it welcomed him home. As if he’d been there for hours, waiting patiently in the solitude.
“My men are intent on throwing you overboard,” came the voice of your captain.
Your heart stumbled on its beat.
Slowly, Bucky leaned into the soft reflection of light from the nearby window. It coated over the lines on his face, the sharp clench of his jaw, sinking into the startling blue of his eyes. Still – he gave you no read on whether he was among those same men readying to end your life for your betrayal.
“I know what the crew believe you to be,” he continued, standing as he pulled the keys to the cell from his pocket, twisting them among nimble fingertips, “but I also know what they thought of you before we crossed paths with this damned island. I’m not particularly inclined to trust their judgement.”
You watched his every movement as Bucky slid the key into the lock and unlatched the door. He paused for a minute on the threshold of the cage and you wondered if he was carrying lingering hesitancy for his innate compassion towards you, if he chastised that part of himself that may still care for the monster locked away in the cell. Still, he opened the door, the hinges crying as they parted.
“I know I what I saw, Y/n,” Bucky said sternly.
Your stomach dropped as he admitted to your worst fears. Of course, he remembered. That foolish inclination towards hope would be the end of you far before the men above deck anchored you and threw you to the seas.
“My memories are not clear, but I know enough,” Bucky continued. Though, there was a sliver of uncertainty in his voice, a slight shift of a question at the end of every word – as if he was looking to you to confirm what he already knew to be true.
Bucky raked a hand through his hair as he paced through the cell. “I remember jumping ship. I remember being... stripped apart – like that siren had burrowed a hole into me and tore away everything that ever made me who I was. It made me forget my men, my life on this ship... you. I was going to die at that siren’s hand.”
His gaze met yours, blue eyes searching for answers. “I know Lawrence took the wax from your ears and I... I panicked. I don’t– I’ve never felt like that before. The thought of losing you to the sirens...” Bucky shook his head, as if to rid the possibility from his mind. He exhaled a slow, steady breath to calm his racing heart. “But you didn't fall prey to the song, did you? Too many seconds passed by without it claiming your mind.”
Tears blurred your eyes as you watched him riddle out his own disbelief, trying to make sense of what you had done. He paced over the creaking floors, wringing his hands. You wondered how long he waited in the darkness, wrestling with the vague pieces he remembered of his time under the water and the woman he thought he knew. Wrestling with the godawful sting of betrayal that came with it.
Your father hadn’t had glimpses into his time with the siren like this. He had barely been able to retain a faded memory of what happened to him. Your captain should not remember as much as he did. You could blame it on your dirty blood or a connection shared between you that held beyond even the power of the siren. It didn’t matter, you supposed. He knew enough to condemn you.
Bucky ceased in his pacing, his back to you. Slowly he turned over his shoulder, truly looking at you for the first time since he opened the door to the cell. The slight flicker of his gaze to the bloodied marks on your neck did not slip your notice, nor did the flex in his fist as he squeezed it tight. He appeared to force himself to look away, pulling his focus to your eyes.
“But somehow, still in control of your own will, you followed me into siren infested waters. You killed the creature intent on taking my life,” Bucky went on, softer this time. He swallowed then, as though the coming words were heavy upon his tongue – drying as sandpaper. Still, he continued.
“But then, you started singing and that same feeling pushed into my soul again – like it had burrowed into my basic instincts, shifting them to a will I didn’t recognize,” Bucky said, surely condemning you. Lead solidified in your stomach, in your chest, in your lungs, until you could hardly breathe.
“Only,” Bucky continued, a startling tenderness in his voice that nearly shattered you, “I didn’t feel unmade like I had before. It didn’t feel like an invasion. It... it just felt like you.”
Slowly, Bucky sank to his knees at the barrel where you sat. His gaze carefully looked over you, taking in the new bruising and cuts he hadn’t seen above deck amongst the chaos, and his jaw clenched. A darkness clouded over the blue in his eyes but it wasn’t anything like how the siren’s song laid claim to the striking color. Instead of it closing him off from you, they offered a glimpse of vulnerability, a crack in his armor.
He looked away, the stone fading from his features.
“You kissed me,” Bucky said simply and your heart nearly shattered on impact.
He shouldn’t have remembered that. He couldn’t. Because that would be your undoing. It would spell your end. If he hadn’t been convinced of the monster in your blood, then the siren’s kiss was all the proof he needed.
But he didn’t flinch away from you in disgust. When he looked at you again, a strange weight clung to his features – a heaviness, an aching, you couldn’t quite place.
“Much of it is a blur to me, but I...” Bucky sighed, brushing his fingertips over his bottom lip, as if to touch the memory itself, “I remember the kiss.”
His lips parted and swiftly closed, making you wonder whether there was more he left unsaid. If he remembered the taste of your lips, how they molded so perfectly against his own. If he remembered how your body felt pressed against his – his hands snaking around your waist to brush the skin of your lower back. Because you remembered. You remembered every second of that kiss.
His eyes flickered back to the collar around your neck and his jawline flexed. He took in a steady breath and then, carefully, began to reach a hand to you – familiar, and still, you could not trust it. Not after every warning your father had instilled in you of the men who would sooner slit your throat and dissect your remains should they learn of your truth. Your breath hitched as Bucky’s hand drew near to your neck, your body tensing, and he froze.
His brow pinched at the center and what appeared to be a deep, unsettling sadness crossed the blue of his eyes. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to do. It had never once crossed your mind before these Isles that he might try to hurt you, to silence you himself with his own bare hands, but still your body reacted as if he might.
He’d promised to interrogate you, hadn’t he? You’d seen how the darkness crept into the captain you knew when he crossed the threshold into this cell – how he’d beat his knuckles raw in search of information more times than you were able to count. It was an effective method; well proven in his many years leading this crew.
Bucky held up his hands apprehensively, giving you a moment to recognize the lack of malice in his eyes, the ginger nature of his touch. You could not find a trace of the darkness you prepared yourself to find. Instead, Bucky dipped his head in a reassuring nod as he carefully reached for your neck again – slower this time, allowing you to watch his every movement.
His fingertips grazed your skin and you nearly whimpered at the touch – the gentleness of it. Holding your gaze, Bucky unlatched the barbed collar from around your neck, carefully prying the sharp edges from your skin and granting you the levity of the stale air in the brig. You drew in a shallow, shaken breath.
Bucky exhaled tensely as he settled his thumb to the cuts on your neck, the deep scratches where the pronged edges of the necklace had jabbed to your skin. He touched you as if he might be able to wipe the wounds away as easily as he did the blood, as if he could heal you himself. He tossed the collar to the other side of the cell with force. It clung against the metal of the bars.
“You saved my life, Y/n,” Bucky admitted to the silence of the cell. His hand remained along your neck, examining the marks there. You were certain he could feel the pounding race of your heartbeat through his fingertips.
Slowly, he allowed himself to meet your gaze again. “None of it makes any sense to me. These things I remember... What the men insist happened... What we know to be true about the sirens... I need you to tell me the truth. I need you to trust me with this, to help me understand.”
You stared helplessly back at him. You’d never trusted anyone the way you had Bucky, but you’d sworn to keep this secret your entire life. Men would kill you out of fear or ignorance or sport if they learned what you were; might try to use you to evade the sirens or tear you apart in search of what made you born of the ocean. You father had made you promise to never tell a living soul of the siren’s blood in your veins – not even those you believed you could trust.
Because no one trusted a siren.
“Y/n,” Bucky tried again, a strain etching into his voice. Desperation, maybe. “Talk to me. It’s only us down here. Only me. You know that I would never...”
He forced out a tense breath as if he could hardly say the words aloud: the very possibility that he would hurt you.
“Please...” he whispered, begged, “just say something.”
You parted your lips, trying to force out the words your captain wanted from you – to confirm what he already knew, to give name to the monster you were. But it lodged in your throat, muffled as if you still wore the barbed wire around your vocal cords. You’d spent too many years suffocated by this secret, by the paralyzing fears of what it meant to trust someone with it, and now—you were drowning in it.
Tears slipped over your cheeks. Burdened in shame, you looked away.
Bucky exhaled, his head dipping. Defeat drew lines along his face.
He didn’t say anything as he rose to his feet and brushed the dirt from his knees. Disappointment weighed on his shoulders as he left through the open cell door. He closed it behind him and locked the bars, lingering just beyond the barrier in hopes you might change your mind. But the silence was crippling and he turned away from you.
Perhaps it was too painful to look at the monster he once trusted, to see betrayal personified in the women who would have done anything for him.
Or maybe, he was as lost as you felt. Confused. Uncertain. Greiving the loss of what he thought he knew and desperate to understand what fell in its place. Maybe he wasn’t like the men your father warned you about. Maybe... your father was wrong.
Because even if you knew little else, you knew Bucky was a good man. You knew his compassion outweighed the rumors of his ruthlessness. You knew he trusted you with things he would not dare show the rest of the crew. Perhaps, he would not see you as the monster his crew argued you to be.
He’d always been different, hadn’t he? You'd known that from the first moment you saw him on that pier, smirking at the little girl who’d chased down her bully with a hairbrush in hand. If anyone was to be worthy of this truth, of this secret that would surely spell your death to any other man, it would be your captain.
And you let him walk away.
He neared the stairs, almost out of view, and fear lurched inside you.
It was crippling, agonizing – the panic that you might lose him not to the sirens or the muddied blood in your veins, but to your own volition, to your own cowardice.
“Wait,” you called after him, but your voice was too shattered, too broken by the song to be heard above the creaking of the ship. He continued his ascent up the stairs, each step cleaving a fracture through your heart.
Your hands began to shake.
“Wait... stop...” you tried again, your voice slowly gaining back strength. But it wasn’t enough. You could see the weight pressing into Bucky’s shoulders, the heaviness of each step. He was nearly to the top.
You sat up straighter, determination drowning away the burning ache in your chest, demanding strength to your voice.
He stilled dead in his tracks.
It wasn’t that you’d spoken, or that your voice was tarnished from the song and the collar. No – he stilled so suddenly because it was the first time his name had come from your lips. Not ‘Captain.’ Not ‘Barnes.’
Slowly, he turned. His lips parted; breath heavy in his chest as he studied you. Something in him softened under the weight of his own name in your voice, a shiver in his bones. His hands clenched at his side though he made no movement toward you.
“Wait.” You swallowed back tears; the distance between you physically aching. “Please... don’t go. I’ll tell you everything. Anything. Just... don’t... don’t go.”
A sob cut through and before you could wipe your eyes on the shoulder of your damp blouse, Bucky had rushed the remaining distance and reopened the cell door, his strong frame kneeling in front of you. Your hands began to tremble violently against the ropes and he set a comforting hand upon your knee, urging you to speak.
“It’s true,” you whispered, your words still broken and raspy in the effort. “It’s all true. I’m... I’m so sorry.”
There was no flicker of surprise on his face. If anything, there was a level of relief you couldn’t quite understand. His hand rubbed tenderly along your thigh, drawing the trembling from your muscles and the shakiness from your hands.
“How is this possible?” he asked steadily, softly.
“I'm only half blood.” You drew back the taste of bitterness on your tongue. “My mother was a siren. So little of me is made of her, but it’s enough for others to fear me. I only used the song once before when I was a child, when I didn’t know any better. I never intended to use it again. You have to believe me. I never wanted to use it again.” A rock burned at your throat, threatening to choke you, to suffocate you. “But you... you jumped and I had to do something. You kept swimming after the siren, even after I killed her. You would have drowned if I hadn’t used the song on you and I couldn’t let you—”
"You hid this from me,” Bucky said, his voice laced thick with remorse as the words died upon your lips, “all these years. Why?”
You stilled, stunned by his question until you absorbed the sincerity in his words. His thumb brushed gentle strokes along your knee, a tenderness you’d hardly been able to grasp before he knew what you were and now... He did not flinch from you, did not revolt in disgust. He still showed you the same kindness, the same trust and care.
But you had needed to protect yourself and your secret – even from him. It was the only way your survived.
“Look where I am,” you exhaled, gesturing to the bars encasing you in the brig and the ropes tied at your wrists. “Can you blame me? The crew already distrusts me as a woman. If they knew what my mother was... it wouldn’t just be taunts and dirty looks. They would have killed me.” You looked out to the window where a glimpse of ocean water crashed against the foggy glass. “They still might.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Bucky retorted sharply, his words coated in a stern determination that made your heart clench. He squeezed your knee. “Do you hear me? I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
He flinched as his gaze dropped to the dried blood on your neck.
“I won’t... I won’t let them hurt you beyond what I have already shamefully allowed,” Bucky carefully amended, guilt pressed heavy on his features. “I have failed you. You saved me and I... I failed you. I will never deserve your forgiveness, but know that I will do everything in my power to ensure you are safe from those men. To my last breath, I swear that to you.”
Your lips parted, trying to find the right words – to understand how he could possibly still look at you the way he was now, how he could so easily rush to your defense despite the years you spent lying to him of your true nature, of the monster you were under the surface. All this and still – he found a way to carry the blame himself.
All you could force beyond your lips was a disbelieving “...what?”
Bucky stroked his hands down your arms and gingerly took his pocket knife to the ropes binding your hands. As they slid from your wrists and the cool touch of air coaxed over the burns, you shivered, hissing at the burning sensation left in its wake. He helped to ease your hands to your lap, careful of the soreness in your shoulders from keeping your hands locked at the small of your back for so long. You winced at the tenderness, the dull ache, though it was long forgotten as Bucky drew your hands to his mouth and tenderly kissed the wounds.
Your breath soon left you entirely.
“I have always cared for you, Y/n. More than I should,” he admitted, the warmth of his lips lingering over your skin. “You risked everything when you jumped in the water after me. You saved my life. Whatever blood runs through your veins does not usurp the woman I know, does not take her from me and morph her into a creature I can easily despise.”
You watched him as he held your hands in his own, how easily he touched you. It felt like a dream, one where you were not the monster your mother made you to be.
“You’re... You’re not afraid of me?”
Something sank in Bucky’s eyes at your question. The ocean blue currents cracking as his gaze flicker to your swollen wrists. A lingering guilt rose to the surface, painting into the lines on his face.
“My fear is not for the siren in you,” he said simply, with such sincerity it nearly broke you. “It is for the blade of our enemy that comes too close to your neck, for the recklessness you are so often prone to, for the overwhelming pull I feel towards you that renders me helpless beyond what I can take. That is what I fear, my love. Not you. Never you.”
“But I— I lied to you,” you argued though your own tears, unwilling to accept his easy forgiveness, unable to understand how he could so blindly trust you when you’d spent years hiding from him. “I betrayed you. You should be lining up to throw me to the sea with the rest of the crew.”
“You think so little of me?” Bucky questioned, pained as his lips curved to a frown. “You truly believe me capable of laying harm to you? That I would disregard your years upon this ship and every time you have saved my life and the lives of these men? Why? Because you carry siren’s blood? Because you have an incredible – albeit, terrifying – power? You were protecting yourself with this secret. I know that. As much as I wish you had trusted me with this, I know why you couldn’t. I’ll admit that I don’t quite understand it all, but I don’t need to. I know you. I trust you. That is enough for me.”
Bucky’s fingertips ghosted along your cheek, brushing away the tears as they slid over your jawline. “I swore once that I would protect you. I meant that.”
It shattered whatever remained of your doubts, of the guilt and shame you carried for hiding the truth from your captain. This impossible man who had granted you far more than he could ever know. He saved you – in more ways than one – the day he agreed to take you aboard his ship. You’d never known loyalty and quiet affection until you met him.
“This is why you sought to keep us from these waters, isn’t it?” Bucky said quietly, the realization heavy. “All this time, you knew what we would find here. That it might expose you. You knew it could end like this, even as I pleaded for your blessing to travel to this island. You agreed to train the same men who would turn against you in a moment if they knew your truth. You did this... because I asked it of you.”
The guilt weighing in his voice bottomed in your stomach. And still, you nodded, unwilling to lie to him a moment longer. “I only wished to keep you safe.”
A sad smile lifted the edges of his lips. Beautiful, even amongst the dim lighting of the single candle and the faded sunlight marked by clouds and stained glass. Always beautiful.
"Then we have that in common, don’t we?” There was a breath of laughter in his voice.
His right hand gently pushed the dampened hair from your face, tucking it safely behind your ear. His smile began to fade the longer he looked at you – sinking not into a frown, but into something else entirely. Something that resembled awe. Longing.
“Bucky...” you exhaled his name and you watched as a shiver trembled over him.
Your gaze flickered to his lips – the full pink restored in color from his time under the water. His hand cupped at the side of your face, holding you steady, gently, as he drew you closer, as you neared him. Heart pounding, skin thrumming in anticipation. His lips were but a breath from yours.
“Captain!” a voice shouted from the stairs.
You pulled apart as footsteps bounded down from the deck. You turned to find Morita and Jones rushing into the brig with wide, panicked looks in their eyes. They did not seem surprised by the lack of the collar and bindings, nor the captain’s close proximity to you.
Bucky jumped to his feet, his body quickly shielding yours. “What is it?”
“The crew,” Morita replied, panting as his worried gaze shot in your direction. “They’re growing restless. They’re gathering chains.”
Your stomach dropped as Bucky reached for you. His arm darted across your chest, acting as a barrier. You both knew what the chains meant – weights to carry you to the bottom of the ocean, to rob you of the air in your lungs and force you to the home you never truly belonged in.
“I’m still the captain here,” Bucky snarled. “They can’t do a damn thing against her without my say.”
“I don’t believe the crew recognizes that anymore, sir,” said Jones. “Dugan is trying to keep them at ease, but they will come for her. Soon.”
Bucky held the steel in his bones for only a moment longer, contemplating his options. A war seemed to rage inside his mind; his frequent glances to the light seeping in through the open stairway lingered before he turned to you. The hardened lines of his muscles began to soften as his gaze filtered over the raw wounds on your wrists, the speckles of blood on your neck, the reflection of tears on your cheeks. He took one final look to the stairs before his shoulders sank, a tired determination rising to the surface.
“Ready the rowboat,” he ordered. “We shouldn’t be more than a few days journey from land. We’ll need enough supplies to get safely to shore.”
“What?” you gaped. “No, you— you can’t do that! I won’t let you give up this ship for me. Your legacy is everything to you and I’m not worth—”
“Don’t you dare.” Bucky grabbed a firm hold of your forearm, still cautious of the bruising, and pulled you close enough to feel the heat of his breath. “Don’t insinuate for a second that this ship means more to me than your life. We’ll find a new vessel. A new crew. Take one if we have to. I don’t want this one if they’re out for your blood.”
Despite the hardened stone on his features, Bucky’s touch to the edge of your cheek carried such tenderness it drew a breathy gasp from your lips. His thumb eased away the lingering tears on your skin, his thumb brushing dangerously close to your lips. Your argument died on your tongue.
Bucky let a weakened smile curve at the ends of his mouth. It wasn’t enough to reach his eyes – not with the chaos brewing above deck, but it eased the burden from his features. He pressed his lips against your temple, lingering a few seconds longer than needed before he turned back to Jones.
“Let’s get out of here. Now. Before they—”
Heavy footsteps pounded on the old, wooden stairs. One after another. Slow in succession. Determined. Confident. Each stormed like thunder inside your chest, rattling every nerve in your body.
Lawrence was the first to emerge from the shadows, several of the crew behind him carrying weapons in hand. All of which were pointed directly at you. There was no mistaking the malice upon their faces nor the certainty with which they aimed their weapons. They were here to kill the monster in the brig.
“Step out of the way, Captain,” Lawrence growled, though his stare remained on you as if it could burrow a hole between your eyes. Disgust was not a strong enough word to contain the glare he carried.
You longed for the dagger and revolver that had once held home on your hips.
Bucky inched himself in front of you; his body acting a shield. The flash of surprise on his crew’s faces did not go unnoticed.
“Don’t do this, Lawrence,” Bucky warned, his stance steady.
But Lawrence did not tear his gaze from yours. His teeth bared as if he were foamed at the mouth; rabid in his fury. “Do you have any idea the havoc she could wreak upon us? You allowed this creature to be unmuzzled when she could lure every last one of us to our deaths!”
“She is not what you think she is,” Bucky said slowly – the contrast to Lawrence’s crazed anger stark.
“She is exactly what we always believed her to be! A curse!” Lawrence roared, spit flailing from his lips. “We must put an end to the monster before it has a chance to do the same to us!”
Bucky unlatched the safety on his revolver. Stunned gasps echoed through the crew as Lawrence straightened his back. The men behind him held their weapons higher; a stand-off in the middle of the brig. Some of the crew’s weapons were trembling in their hands, fear of their own captain drawing hesitancy to their convictions.
"She is not your enemy,” Bucky growled as he adjusted the leverage of his gun, “but if you don’t step aside, I’m about to be.”
Lawrence licked at his lips; a deadly silence masked only by the crash of waves against the rim of the ship coating the brig. “So be it.”
Gunfire rang in your ears and you were thrown to the ground. Deafening ringing numbed the rest of your senses as you struggled under the weight of Bucky’s body, your forearms scraping against the exposed nails between the wooden boards.
Chaos surrounded you. Once, you would have thrived upon it. You would have breathed in the rush of adrenaline and smiled – but your body was still weakened from the aftermath of the siren’s song. Your energy was drained; your precision with a blade and a bullet hazy, even if you could manage to get your hands on a weapon. There was little fight left in your body as Bucky, Jones, and Morita desperately tried to defend you from the rest of the crew.
Someone managed to wrangle Bucky to his knees and it was only then that you saw the blood dripping down the front of his face. Someone had struck him – enough to break his nose – and your stomach lurched at the sight. Morita and Jones followed, various cuts on his arms and snags in the fabric of their clothing from the blade of their own crewmen. A blade darted out across Bucky’s throat and your heart plummeted far beyond the wood of the ship, deep into the sinking abyss of the waters below.
“Stop!” you shrieked, though your voice broke in the effort. You held your bloodied wrists out for the crew, panicked. Surrendering. Desperate for someone to restrain you instead. “Do what you must with me. Just leave them out of this. Please.”
Bucky’s eyes widened. Panic lacing deep through his veins as he struggled to free himself to no avail. Lawrence stepped forward, a sickening grin curling at the edges of his mouth, and Bucky’s gaze narrowed to deadly precision.
“You lay another fucking hand on her and I swear you to Lawrence, I’ll cut it off!” Bucky roared, caring little for the blade at his throat as it dug into his skin. Tiny speckles of blood dripped from the cuts as he fought his restraints.
Lawrence wrapped his grimy fingers around your wrists despite the captain’s warning, his thumbs digging painfully into your wounds as he wrapped heavy metal chains where rope had once been. You winced at the friction, which only seemed to delight him.
He turned to Bucky. “I’m doing you a favor, Captain. I’m doing all of us a favor. You'll see.”
But Bucky only bared his teeth, his body seething with rage. Blood dripped down to his collarbone.
With your wrists crossed in front of you, Lawrence grabbed hold of the remaining links and dragged you viciously towards the steps. The momentum forced you to follow as you stumbled over your own feet. You nearly lost your balance on the first step, but the chains dragged you along, even as you bruised your shins against the wood.
“Get her to the plank! Quickly!” one of the unnamed crew shouted from the deck as you stepped out into the blinding heat of sunlight. You blinked through the startling brightness, trying to adjust after nearly a full day of being kept below deck.
When you were finally able to see again, you found Dugan tied to the mast at the center of the ship. Jim and Gabe soon followed as ropes were secured around their wrists. But it was Bucky they kept restrained by his arms as they led you to the edge of the ship. They forced him to his knees with a heavy thud, resistance etched to stone in every ounce of his muscle. It took four of his men to hold him down and a blade against his throat before he finally stilled.
You stood silently at the edge of the ship as Lawrence tied weights to your ankles. Amongst his roughened hands and the latch of metal pinching at your skin, your gaze fixed on Bucky’s. There was nothing left to be done. You’d sealed your fate the moment you dove into the water after him, exposing your song and the siren in your history to the men who were so easily threatened by your presence.
It was foolish to believe even for a moment that you could have escaped this ending. That your life had not always been meant to end in this way.
Your heart pounded miserably inside your chest as you held his gaze. His lips were parted, breaths heavy in his chest – he looked as though his heart might have been ripped straight through his ribs for the panic and devastation on his features had all but consumed him. You offered him a small smile, one that barely touched your eyes to simply have this one moment left with your captain – one moment of peace to hold within the kind ocean blue of his gaze.
But Bucky would not let you go quietly.
“You would murder one of your own?!” Bucky demanded of the crew, the effort drawing the blade over his throat. Drops of crimson bubbled from the cut on his skin. “She has been a part of this crew for years and never once laid harm to a single one of you! She was the one who sought to protect you from the sirens in the waters of the Aglaope Isles! She warned you of this coast! Does that not give you pause?”
Several of the crew blinked, some taken back. Others, snarled their teeth – unbothered.
“Look at her!” Bucky ordered as blood slipped down his collar. “She’s without the collar and yet she does not use the song against you! Not even to save her own life! She is not the monster you claim she is! Stop this!”
It didn’t matter that you were depleted far beyond your ability to use the song again so soon. It should have been enough that it never once crossed your mind to do so in the years spent aboard this ship – fighting alongside this crew, eating with them, sailing with them. Even among their constant harassment and taunting. It should have been enough.
“Our captain has been blinded by the siren’s charms!” Lawrence announced to the crew, stomping upon their doubts as if he could crumble it under the sole of his boot. “She is every bit the demons that stole our brothers from us! We will condemn this creature to an eternity in chains at the bottom of the ocean for her crimes!”
Many still cheered.
But not all.
“You’ll kill her!” Bucky warned, his voice growing hoarse in his desperation. His anger quickly evolved to panic. “She’s not full blood, Lawrence! She won’t survive under the water!”
Lawrence paused, a sinister smirk curving up at the corners of his lips. “Then it is a fitting death for a half-breed.” He turned back to the crew; one hand grasped at the chains around your wrist, the other pushed up above his head in a rallying cry. “I say we let her drown!”
Applause broke out, sinking a dead weight in your stomach, sealing your fate. Bucky looked out to his crew and something shattered on his face – his eyes wide, his breaths coming in shallow and trembling.
“Don’t do this,” Bucky’s strangled voice carried through the cheers. “Lawrence... please. You don't have to do this.”
Lawrence paused, but only long enough spit at the deck. “She’s made you weak. Pathetic. I will free you of her spell and soon, Captain, you will thank me.”
But Bucky only shook his head, an awful mixture of disbelief and agony warping its way through his features. His knees trembled, nearly giving out under him, and still, he fought against the men securing him with every ounce of strength he had left.
You met Bucky’s frantic gaze from across the deck – his own eyes brimmed red and reflective with unshed tears under the setting sun – and in an impossible moment, you tried to convey the years of unspoken words you never had a chance to tell him.
Your appreciation for the day he offered you a place amongst his crew.
The pride you felt sailing under his flag – the legend of a ruthless pirate who displayed more honor than men of the crown who wore colorful pins upon the breast of their uniforms.
The aching need to be close to him, to feel the steady pulse of his heart under your fingertips and ease the pain lingering from his wounds.
Feelings beyond what you had ever been able to put name to; stronger that the rush of panic as Lawrence dragged you to the ledge, deeper than the ocean’s floor you’d soon find a home in. Feelings that ripped through your chest and begged for every inch of him. Feelings that rendered you foolish and reckless enough to expose your nature to the very men who would soon take your life for it.
But there wasn’t enough time to confess any of it.
Lawrence shoved a heavy hand to your chest and you began to stumble.
Bucky kicked out the knee of one of the men holding him restrained in a terrible crack, creating a small opening that let him break free of their hold. They lunged for him as he dove from their reach. Sprinting. Your name a terrible, frantic plea his lips.
Your feet left the ground, the railing digging into your spine.
Bucky lunged for you, but a sword swung down in his path. Lawrence.
You hit the water. Enclosing around you. Cold. Ice Cold.
And then – silence.
You held your last breath of air deep into your lungs. It would last you longer than you should have been allowed as a human; a few extra minutes at most. For what, you weren’t sure. There was no freeing yourself of the chains as you sank deeper into the water.
This was it. The end. The icy embrace of the waters you had called home your entire life.
Perhaps it had always known you would return to its clutches. Even in death.
Librarian!Bucky Barnes! People aren’t really your forte; you’re not the best at verbal communication. It’s why you’ve always found solace in books. Your town librarian understands. You’re not sure how he came to be here, or who he was before, but the rumors don’t bother you. He leaves books for you in your check-out bin, notes written on post-it notes in the margins of the ones he knows will interest you. At last, someone who really understands.
I adore this and hope you like what I came up with!
Pairing: Dark Librarian!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: You're Bucky's rare treasure, his most prized possession.
Word Count: Almost 1.5k
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Dubcon/Noncon elements (please do NOT read if that upsets you), drugging, kidnapping, cockwarming, mention of minor character death, dark elements, possessive behavior, displays of Stockholm Syndrome, librarian!Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?),
A/N: Hey, lovelies! Here's my submission for @boxofbonesfic Monkey Paw Challenge. Congrats on 7k! Thank you to Nix for the GORGEOUS Bucky edit and @late-to-the-party-81 for the beautiful moodboard. Also thank you to @sgt-seabass for "prized possession". Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banners by the talented @vase-of-lilies. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!
When you were little, you used to dream that you would one day fall in love with a handsome prince. All the books you read had the princesses being saved from their peril to live happily ever after. You wished for your prince to shield you from the darkness of the world and love you for who you are. Your parents eventually told you to get your nose out of the books and live in reality. It was a silly dream.
And dreams sometimes turned to nightmares.
Bucky let out a sigh of happiness as he paused in his reading, reminding you of how good he felt to be surrounded by the heat of your wet pussy. One of his favorite ways to read to you was to have you seated on his hard cock, his lips against your ear as he spoke. It was a daily routine now and the dull ache between your legs was a sensation you had grown used to over time. He made sure of it. Everything began and ended with Bucky Barnes.
“Do you remember the day we met?” he asked, nuzzling the column of your throat as he rocked his hips up.
“I do,” you whispered.
Your life changed the moment you met him. A chance encounter with the handsome new librarian put you directly in his path. You hadn’t expected to bump into him while roaming the familiar shelves, clutching the small pile of books to your chest as he looked into your eyes. You had never seen such a brilliant shade of blue before.
And you never would again.
“Is there something I can help you find?”
“Y-You’re not Will,” you said, taking in his short, brown hair and strong jawline. He took up space between the shelves without meaning to with his muscular frame and you chided yourself for staring.
The smile he gave you made you shrink back more. “No, I’m not. I’m actually his replacement. I’m Bucky.”
You said your name as he looked at you expectantly. You didn’t know Will planned to quit, but didn’t question it as Bucky helped you pick one more book. Instead of getting frustrated with your small nods and one or two word answers to his questions, he was careful to help choose the right story for you.
“Sorry,” you said as he helped you at the front desk, carefully looking over your library card.
“For what?” he asked, taking one more look before giving the card back and pushing the books toward you.
“Not saying much,” you answered, tucking them into your arms. Conveying messages through spoken word wasn't your strong suit, so you did your best to express it in other ways. A kind smile here and a friendly wave there, but it didn't always work. Books were comforting because they didn’t judge you.
“Nothing to apologize for, doll. I know not everyone is a chatterbox,” he swore, the small smile you gave in response making him grin. “Tell you what. Why don’t I leave a few books for you when those are due back so you don’t feel obligated to talk to me?”
“Oh,” heat quickly rushed to your cheeks. “You don’t-”
“I don’t mind,” he promised.
"Okay. Thanks,” you swore, giving him a tiny wave as you cradled the books with the other hand.
“See you soon, doll,” he smiled.
You felt his eyes on you when you left and he hadn’t stopped watching you since.
“You had the most beautiful smile. It was endearing,” he explained, shutting the book and setting it aside.
You had heard whispers about Bucky since he took over at the library. Will had given no warning to quitting and no one even saw him leave town. Some say he killed him, but there was no proof. Others said that something wasn’t right in his mind after he served in the Army. You ignored the rumors. He mostly kept to himself and did a good job.
Maybe you should’ve listened.
“You were always nice to me.”
Whenever you saw Bucky around town, you gave him a small, awkward wave. He always waved back with a lopsided grin. You liked that he didn’t force you into interacting with him, but you found yourself drawn to him anyway. Who wouldn’t be drawn to a handsome, mysterious and kind man?
You should’ve questioned why you saw him around your street when he lived blocks away. Or why small things began to go missing from your place. You thought at the time that you were being forgetful. It was foolish to pretend.
“The world is a cruel place and I knew I had to protect you.”
Blaine was a bully who teased you relentlessly whenever he encountered you, knowing you wouldn't say anything back. It was usually a comment about your looks or how maybe you could you up if he fucked you. Bucky witnessed it once from a distance, but you rushed off before he could see if you were okay. It didn't bother you and you didn't want to trouble him. Blaine thought he found an easy target and nothing more.
He broke his neck in a freak accident two days later.
And Bucky left you a flower with a new stack of books.
“You wanted me. I know you did,” he grunted, thrusting up to make you keen. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to shove you against one the bookshelves and fuck you until you cried.”
You had a feeling it took a lot of restraint. There was always a dark look in his eyes in the moments he got close to you. A brush against your backside or a touch to your arm, but they somehow seemed innocent.
There was nothing innocent about his intentions.
“You even kept all the notes I left you.” he sighed, tracing lazy circles along your clit as you whined.
Each time Bucky chose a book for you, he left a handwritten note. It was either a reason for why he chose the story or why he thought you’d like it. You appreciated that he chose romantic stories since most of the guys in town wanted nothing to do with you. Each one was special to you. He even asked you out on a date with a note.
They lined the wall across from you, along with photos Bucky had taken of you.
“My perfect doll. Never prying or asking questions,” he murmured, his teeth lightly nipping your soft flesh. “I knew I had to have you.”
Your first date was at his place, not wanting you pressured to go out in town. The romantic indoor picnic just for two felt personal and special. You didn’t remember much after having a drink of wine. But you knew you hadn’t been home since.
“I deserve you,” he lightly bit down again as he brought you closer to the edge, your legs trembling against his thick thighs. “My most prized possession.”
The missing items from your place were in the room, along with other things Bucky moved in. You weren’t sure how he gained access to your place. It was best not to ask.
“Tell me you love me,” he urged, snapping his hips as you reached back to grip his hair. He groaned when you pulled on the short strands. “Now.”
“I love you, Bucky. I love you!” you cried.
“Then come for me,” he demanded, pinching your swollen bundle of nerves.
A tear fell from your eye as you succumbed to pleasure, flooding his cock and lap with your release. He wrapped a hand around your throat to keep you still, his grip prolonging your orgasm. He knew your body, and had taken the time to explore it. And your cunt pulsed around him with the need to be filled.
“That’s my good girl,” he groaned, giving you what your body asked for after a few shallow thrusts, his seed coating your trembling walls.
“Yours,” you moaned because it was the truth.
Bucky breathed heavily against your shoulder as you head lolled to the side, but he refused to leave the haven of your body. “Let’s finish this chapter.”
“Okay,” you exhaled, seeping around his cock as he opened the book again. You stared off as he began to speak again, taking in the beauty of the prison he created for you. The four walls were spacious and fresh flowers brightened it up. And there was an endless supply of books.
“Look at this, doll,” he smiled as he held the open book in front of your face. “He wants to start a family. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Another tear fell as you sadly smiled and nodded. You didn’t know if anyone was looking for you or if they even cared. And Bucky? He wasn’t the prince who rescued you from the tower. He put you in one to preserve you. His most prized possession.
Bucky’s happily ever after.
I'd really like to explore more librarian!Bucky, soft, soft!dark or dark. What do we think? Thanks for reading!
Was bumblebee’s first word “dada” or was it like “Chanel”
Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader
A/N: Part of the Bumblebee series
You and Bucky have a bet over what the baby's first words would be. The playful competition ramping up every day, and now the housekeeper, bodyguards and her uncles are involved. Everyone taking sides, trying to get her to say either mama or dada.
So far, nothing.
Bumblebee is loving the extra attention, everytime you hold up her with your face in front of hers, repeating mama, can you say mama over and over, she giggles. Her tiny hands keep grabbing your face, silently asking for more kisses.
Whenever she smiles brightly at you, she reminds you so much of Bucky.
"Cheater," Bucky accuses, his arms folded across his chest.
You lower your baby enough to glare at your husband. "Oh that's rich coming from the man who bought that talking stuffed bear. What did you program it to say again?"
Bucky raises his chin, his gaze unrepentant. He strolls toward you, stopping when the baby is caught, almost squished between you. "You're not going to beat me malyshka. You know that I always get what I want."
Bumblebee continues babbling, her eyes bouncing between the two of you. You step closer, Bucky's hands grab your waist in a light hold. Your baby grabs your necklace and pulls it towards her open mouth. Slanting your head back, you meet his gaze while tugging the emerald away from her. "No, you don't."
Bucky scoffs. "Yes, I do. I got you didn't I?"True. "I have the best baby." Also true. He bends down, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "And-"
She beams up at him, a sweet wide smile that makes her chubby cheeks jut out, his eyes warming as he looks down at her. "Da. Dada."
You glance at each other, a slow, astonished grin slides across his face. "Did she just-"
Bucky lives for these moments and so do you.
He rests his foreheads on yours, savoring this time with his two favorite people. Then his grin turns into a smirk and you realize your sweet baby just made you lose your bet. You glare down at her, nudging her nose with yours. "You little traitor."
She laughs, right in your face. "Dada."
"Hey don't talk to my baby like that," Bucky interjects, gently extracting her from your arms before taking a step back. "You are so smart aren't you Bumblebee? We need to celebrate you being the best baby."
"Bucky," you admonish, already imagining all the toys he’s about to buy for her. "don't-"
He raises a brow. "You should worry about how you're going to pay up Malyshka."
He doesn't wait for your response, sauntering out of the room, resuming his conversation with Bumblebee. "Yes we do need to celebrate," he says, blowing a raspberry on her belly. "Yes, we do. What do you want? A toy. A toy for every time you say dada? Is that what you want?"
You know he already bought the toys- you found the stash he hide a week ago, he's just been waiting for an excuse to bring them into the house.
You trail after them, watching your baby wrap the city's most infamous mobster around her tiny finger. And you weren't surprised when her second word was Jamie. Mama ended up being third.
Something Bucky loves to bring up whenever Bumblebee choose you over him.
Spring in Stowe Mills
Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Spring had sprung in Stowe Mills, leading you to try your hand at gardening. Unbeknownst to you, it was still far too cold in the mountain town for anything to actually grow, but Bucky was doing his absolute best to keep that small detail from crushing your hopeful smile.
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: Literally just some fluffy Undisclosed content thank you
a/n: This is a oneshot associated with my series Undisclosed, but can be read separately :) Enjoy!!
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist
“Wow, this looks incredible, honey. It’s gonna be great,” Bucky grinned, arms strong across his chest as he leaned in the doorway.
You glanced up from the soil, patting another tomato seed into the ground. “You think so? I’ve never really done this before.”
“Coulda fooled me. You sure you didn’t have some rooftop garden back in New York?”
“Yeah,” you scoffed. “As if my mother would have let me do that.”
Bucky kicked away from the doorframe, joining you in your makeshift garden and crouching in the dirt. He placed a warm hand on your back as he thumbed at one of the leaves in the ground.
He hummed, the sound sweet on your skin as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Have I ever told you how much I wish you’d gotten here sooner?”
You turned, shifting on your knees until his lips met yours instead of your head. It was short and adoring, a sarrachrine brush that was quickly followed by a smile against your mouth. You placed a dusty glove on his thigh to steady yourself.
“I think you’ve mentioned that before,” you giggled. “This time I’m wondering if it’s because you missed out on my gardening skills for so many years.”
He moved forward to kiss you again, a hunger behind his lips. The spring sun was bright today, but the cold that nipped at your skin was still unforgiving. The light sweater Bucky had thrown over your shoulders helped a little, but the chill that you weren’t used to associating to the season was prominent.
That was Stowe Mills—frigid and cold, even as spring danced the line of summer.
“You’re freezing, sweet girl,” Bucky chastised, moving a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Let’s head inside, yeah? I’ll get you a bath goin’ before a bunch of people start raiding our kitchen.”
You sent your gaze across the empty pots still lining the front of the house, frowning. “But I haven’t finished.”
“I’ll help ya with it tomorrow. We gotta get you warm, honey.” Bucky took your forearms in his grip, lifting you from the ground with a gentle smile.
“Buck, it’s spring. The sun’s out.”
“Yeah, it’s out and it’s bein’ useless.”
“You think it’ll still be okay for the plants?” you asked, a slight concern edging into your words. You had never attempted something like this before, and there was strangely a large part of you that really wanted your garden to be successful; call it making up for lost time.
Bucky caught on to the inflection in your tone, tossing an arm over your shoulders as you shucked the gloves from your numb fingers. “‘Course it will, sweet girl. The trees grow just fine around here, don’t they?”
“I guess so.”
Bucky Barnes was panicking.
The second you had asked Sarah about those damn seeds, he had started to feel a bit antsy. He had no idea why she hadn’t informed you that hardly anything grew in Stowe Mills, but she didn’t, and now he was wondering how discreetly a full grown tomato plant could be shipped into town.
Technically, he could have told you as much, but you had looked so excited when the small packets finally arrived; there was no way he was going to shoot down the smile he loved so much.
So he helped haul soil and ceramic pots into the front yard, and presented you with the gardening tools one of the old shop owners dusted off from a backroom. Because it was spring. And apparently spring meant it was time to start a garden.
“You know she’s not gonna get a single sprout outta all that, don’t you?” Steve posed, motioning outside with the drink he held in his hand.
“Keep your damn voice down,” Bucky hissed. He popped his head out of the kitchen, ensuring that you were still getting dressed back in the bedroom. “I know that, you punk.”
“So why’re you letting her waste her time?”
Bucky grunted, leaning back against one of the counters. “I don’t know, man, she looked so excited. What was I supposed to say?”
“That her cucumbers are going to wither away the second we get too much rain. Which’ll probably be like… next week.”
“How the hell’d you know she planted cucumbers?”
Steve furrowed his brow. “My ma has a Better Homes and Garden subscription. I just guessed based on spring plants.”
“Oh yeah, I’m sure it’s Sarah’s magazine subscription,” Bucky taunted, lightly hitting his friend over the arm. The bedroom door creaked open. “Okay, shut up. Not a word.”
Steve shot his hands up in surrender, plastering a genuine smile on his face when you came into the kitchen with Alpine pressed to your chest. You gave Bucky a quick kiss on the cheek, and then made a beeline for the other man in the kitchen.
“Steve!” you greeted, throwing him into a side hug. “Glad to see you got back in one piece. With all of the calls I got from Nat, I was sure she was going to leave you behind in Kansas or something.”
Steve rolled his eyes and reached down to ruffle your hair, earning a discontented sound from Alpine. “She couldn’t leave me behind. She hates being the one to talk to the guys at the other lumberyards. Says they never leave her alone.”
You laughed, knocking your shoulder into his and heading over to the fridge. Bucky felt his chest constrict at the sound, biting his lip to contain the stupid grin about to take over his face; the last thing he needed was Steve making fun of him in his own house. Which he would definitely do, right after he tried to ruin your gardening dreams.
“I saw the yard, y/n,” Steve shot out, nonchalant as Bucky glared daggers into the side of his head.
You turned, letting the fridge click shut. “Did you like it?” you asked, eyes shining with excitement.
Bucky could see the moment Steve lost his drive. His eyes softened and his smile faltered just the slightest bit; apparently, your hopeful nature didn’t just pull on Bucky’s heartstrings.
Steve took a cautious glance at Bucky, the latter raising a brow as if to drive an unspoken point home. He nodded in your direction, daring Steve to tear you down as you stood there with a cat and a bottle of juice in your arms.
“Looks great, y/n. Really livens the place up,” Steve finally replied, sighing when you smiled back in response.
Bucky sagged against the counter, getting over one hurdle of this whole ordeal. He could deal with dying plants later; right now he just needed your friends to play along. You didn’t seem to notice the silent conversation he had with Steve, so this one was considered a win.
You released Alpine into Steve’s hands, walking back until your back was pressed against Bucky’s chest. He wound an arm around your waist and pulled you closer, happy that you felt a bit warmer than you had outside.
“Is Sam coming?” you asked, trying and failing to untwist the lid on your drink. Bucky took it from your hands with a silent smile, opening it after your feigned scoff. He chuckled when you took it back, mumbling something along the lines of loosening it for him.
“He might be,” Steve pondered. “His lumber delivery ran a little late. Not sure if he’s back just yet.”
Bucky stiffened. If Sam came here, his first comment would be about the state of the yard. And then it would be something about the uselessness of a garden in Stowe Mills, and you would cry. Okay, you might not cry, but the disappointment on your face would feel the same to Bucky. And then Bucky would have to fight his friend.
He threw a look at Steve from above your head, eyeing his phone as it sat on the table across the room. Steve cocked his head to the side before his features lit up in recognition, a firm nod following the pointed glare from his friend.
“You guys are acting weird,” you hummed, knocking your head back to gaze up at Bucky. “Why are you acting weird?”
Bucky sucked in a sharp breath, blinking down at you with an uncomfortable smile. “We aren’t actin’ weird, sweet girl.”
“You are. Weirdos.”
You removed yourself from Bucky’s chest, taking Alpine back with a side eye in Steve’s direction. He huffed at you, but you paid no mind as you headed for the couch piled with blankets—most of which he had made.
Bucky watched you with caution, now hyper aware of his obvious behavior. “If he’s coming,” Bucky mouthed. “Text him.”
Steve nodded and reached for his phone.
Bucky made himself busy in the kitchen for a while, getting things prepped for dinner even though he had no idea how many people would be arriving. It had been like that ever since you moved in; people loved coming over unannounced, and Bucky attributed that to the warmth you brought to the place.
To the whole town, if he was being honest, but he might be a bit biased. Not that he cared in the slightest if he was considered biased.
He was just about to interrupt your book and ask you if you wanted to make the bread for the night, when a knock came at the front door. Steve’s head whipped up from his place at the sink, eyeing his phone that hadn’t pinged once since his text to Sam, which was something Bucky had also taken special care to track as well.
And Sam never knocked when he came over.
Bucky narrowed his eyes as you kicked up from the couch. “You expecting someone?”
A blanket still wrapped around your shoulders, you simply replied, “Greta.”
Bucky paled, his urge to run to the door and lock it indefinitely almost boiling out of him. Of all the people in Stowe Mills, Greta was possibly the worst for this situation; that old lady would break his girl’s heart faster than the hinges would finish squeaking on the door.
Bucky wiped his hands on a towel and hurried out of the kitchen, blocking your path with gentle hands on your arms. “What’s she doing here?” he stressed, words spoken slowly as Steve tried to slink behind him.
You peeked around Bucky’s shoulder, raising a brow at a guilty-looking Steve. “Am I not allowed to answer the door?”
“Can someone open this damn thing?” Greta called, words muffled from the wind outside. “God forbid you let an old woman come in from the cold.”
You turned back to Bucky to throw him an accusatory look, and he sighed, releasing you and motioning for Steve to open the door. He might as well brace himself for heartache now; the look on your face was going to be devastating in about ten seconds.
Greta came barreling in, huffing past Steve and grumbling, “Those plants outside are gonna die. Ain’t no gardening in Stowe Mills.”
The whole room cringed. Bucky reached for you again as you blinked over at Greta, trying to provide some comfort after that brutal truth. But Greta wasn’t done.
“You’re gonna keep planting and nothing’s gonna happen. Colder than a well-digger’s wallet out there. No one tell you that, girl?”
Bucky just about died on the spot from the crestfallen expression on your face. He tucked your hair behind your ear as you replied, “Uh, no, they didn’t.”
The older woman scoffed, “Men.”
Steve let out a heavy breath as you bit the inside of your cheek, his chest expanding and his hands coming out to relieve the tension. He turned to Greta with a sheepish smile on his face.
“Why don’t I get you something to eat, Greta?”
She grumbled and hobbled behind him as he led her to the kitchen, leaving you and Bucky in the doorway and silent. This had gone south far faster than Bucky had anticipated, and he had to act quickly to try and save your feelings. The hand that had tucked your hair back now rested on your cheek, his thumb sliding back and forth against your skin.
“‘M sorry, sweet girl,” he began. “I didn’t want you to be upset.”
Your mouth twisted up, and Bucky feared for the worst. Maybe you were going to cry, and if you cried, he would probably cry. And it’s not like he could fight Greta. Bucky was about a moment away from going outside to yell at the sun to actually work for once, when another sound escaped you.
You were laughing.
You were trying your hardest to keep it in, but the smile creeping onto your face was impossible to miss, and your shaking shoulders were slowly jostling Bucky’s own body.
Bucky eyed you, dubiously. “What are you—”
“Oh my god,” you laughed, leaning your forehead to his chest. “This is hilarious, Buck. I can’t.”
Bucky let out a nervous laugh, bringing his hand up to rest it on the back of your head. He patted you, glancing around the room as if something was going to jump out at him. It wouldn’t have been a far cry from what was happening right now.
Your giggling finally let up a bit, and you leaned back, wiping your eyes. “Why wouldn't you just tell me? You walked out there every day and—” another laugh escaped you; you tried to hold it back “—you acted like I was doing such a great job. You carried like… ten bags of soil in from your truck!”
An actual smile spread across his face when he took in your joy—whatever it was from. “You told me you wanted to start a garden,” he replied simply, as if it made perfect sense.
You shook your head, voice still laced with humor. “You knew a garden wouldn’t work here.”
“I was gonna order you some plants and replace them while you slept.”
God, he could listen to you laugh for the rest of his life, and at this rate, it seemed like he was going to. Bucky pressed a kiss to your forehead and caught Steve’s questioning gaze from the kitchen. He could still barely understand what was going on, but shook his head at his friend anyway; you were fine—happy and still laughing, even when all of your hard work was down the drain.
“Buck, I love you so much, you know that?”
“‘Course I do,” he said. “Just don’t really know what that has to do with all your plants.”
𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • 𝐛.𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬
pairing — best friend!bucky barnes x reader (modern au) (best friends to lovers)
summary — after breaking up with your cheating ex, you’re left with two tickets to greece. you continue with the trip and oh, bucky’s coming along with you. what could go wrong?
warnings — 18+, nsfw content in later chapters, angst, mentions of cheating, lots of fluff, best friend!bucky, slow burn, mutual pining, best friends to lovers trope,
author’s note — hi sweetie, welcome to my first series masterlist!! i’m really excited about this because its my first attempt at writing a series, i hope it doesn’t flop! thank you for stopping by!
last updated — 22nd may 2022
tags are open for this series, send me an ask or fill in the taglist form (link in bio) if you’d like to be tagged!
Scenting | B. Barnes
summary: the stereotypes of the alpha and omega dynamics were blurred, when it comes to you and bucky.
pairings: omega!beefy!bucky x alpha!small!reader
warnings: language, abo dynamics.
anyone who sees bucky; six foot four mass of a man, yielding brute strength and the deadly precision of a world-reknowned assassin, would always assume he's an alpha. he's got the muscular stature down to pat, he looks like someone who will slam you to the nearby wall should you present to be a threat to his omega and pups, don't he?
well he will, absolutely, slam you into a wall without a second thought should you prove yourself to be a threat to his mate and pups; mostly because he's a senior citizen, and he's had enough of people's shit and he would not stand for some rando disrespecting his mate, omega or not, his hands are rated violent for everyone.
another thing is, he was an omega.
HYDRA, for all their advanced technology during their time could not alter his designation despite the serum cursing through his veins. it was a silly joke he had been dealt with, drawn and quartered in the 40s, experimented on, had been on copious amounts of suppressants and scent blockers, frozen like a damn chicken when the winter soldier is not needed.
there was little time to mingle or find his mate even as he tried to immerse himself in the real world.
sure, bucky has dated. he's dated plenty. tried to put himself out there, like that beta from the pr department, or the receptionist from stark tower's, or that chick from the park. but he was spread far too thin with missions, and therapy, training and making amends with his victims or their families, which made any meaningful relationships impossible. they were all too weirded out about his identity anyways, what more, should they figure out he was a broken omega too.
his cycle was fucked up and he hasn't had any since sometime twenty years ago, in an abandoned warehouse twisting in gut wrenching pain, before he was caged and tossed in the cyro. he remembers that. the pain too piercing to have been missed.
o the life of james buchanan fucking barnes. the casanova from the 40s had fallen too far from the suave and easily beguilling man, too confident for his own good. now? oh now, he's embroiled in self-hatred, and trauma, with night terrors and his designation atop of it all. he's given up on finding an alpha, because, who in the world would want a broken toy?
“you okay pal?” steve huffs out in fatigue, a rough session with the weights and his usual exercise routine had tired the blonde out, sweat sticking to his forehead. but even he was not too dense to figure out that bucky has been under considerable amount of stress and the pressure he puts on himself, is so to speak, staggering.
“why won't i be?” he quips, delivering a blow that knocked the punching bag off it's perch and to the floors.
“hey, you're sexually frustrated, we get it.” sam hollers from the threadmill, barely flinching when bucky snarled at his audacity.
“shut up, birdbrain.”
“why don't i punch your teeth in so you can't anymore?”
“alright!” steve clamors, cutting of the snark reply tethering on sam's tongue. “everyone is tired and fatigued with all the mission's we've been committing to. there's no use in snarling and clawing eachother's eyes out, or teeth in.”
bucky grumbles, but stayed quiet nonetheless, whereas sam mumbles something incoherent under his voice. bucky chose to ignore him for peace and quiet, but he did try to trip sam when he walked past, to which steve immediately inserted himself as to avoid further altercation.
“seriously, buck.” steve chides as they walk out of the gym, “you're uncharateristically short this week, something bothering you?”
he grimaces in his head, how could he ever explain it to steve when even he, struggles to make sense of it all.
“'m fine.” he gruffs out, but steve remained unphased with his reply, quirking an eyebrow. “just tired.” he supplies, which was half the truth.
he is tired, and sleep deprived. but nothing the serum can't work with. he's been neglectful of his well-being with far more extreme measures.
he looked like he wanted to say more, but the voice of FRIDAY beat him to speaking, “mr. stark is requiring every present avenger in the conference room, meeting starts in five.” the robotic voice of the AI cuts through he air. the men looked at eachother, shrugging in confusion but following through orders aswell.
you fiddle with the invisible seams of your tactical gear, clad in the skin tight black suit and armed with high powered guns in the holster, your shoulders squared and your gaze intent on nothing in particular- your chin turnt up and a serious expression as your facade to hide the true nervousness bubbling inside your chest.
finally, though, you snagged a well coveted spot in the elite avenger initiative after a year of rigorous training and life-risking missions under the supervision of SHIELD and the watchful eye for talent of director nick fury.
you passed the trainings with flying colors, dabbled on tech and weapon engineering, excelling in classes. it also quite helped, that despite your small frame and seemingly harmless appearance, as an alpha, people were esily reliant and trusting of you; as if openly seeking for approval, which clouds your target in a momentary haze of how nature intended it to be.
you had easily become the fastest recruit to accomplish s-classified missions and infiltrated several terrorist organizations and brought them to ruins inside out. you were esteemed and applauded for your talents, and equal parts disdained at for being an accomplished young female alpha, but most were certain your prospects were only looking bright from here on out.
still, there was a strange gnawing thought at your basebrain. as if something important was missing.
you had not even noticed that the chairs were half filled, and your new teammates looking upon you, standing alongside fury with curiousity and interest.
“we're just waiting for the soldiers,” stark assures you, must have sensed that your brain was going into an overdrive and you were lost to your own thoughts. he was the only one you had met down at the labs, where fury was slowly introducing you to the team; testing the waters of your chemistry with the rest.
stark was ofcourse first, due to his obnoxious demeanor and sarcastic quips that were sometimes, borderline offensive.
you didn't mind his humor, nor his ramblings. you had gotten along like a house on fire with the alpha and the distance was easily thrown out the window once you both had gotten to tinkering with his repulsors, adding new functions and doing general calculations.
taking a lungful of air, you were wrapped in several scents, but none too overpowering. they were all light and airy, pleasant to the nose which was a good sign; they weren't having unpleasant feelings at your presence.
“sorry, we're late.” the baritone of captain america rumbles along the expanse of the conference room, most of the team looking at him, and the grumbling pair behind, equally as tall and built behind him.
“cat fight?” natasha smirks in amusement, as she sees the scratches and forming bruises around bucky and sam's face, aswell as the nasty bust to steve's chin.
“he started it!” sam's boisterous voice yells, it was coupled with an accusing finger pointed towards bucky, eyes wide as the man tries to bite it off, “the senior citizen tried to trip me, and hurled a water bottle at my face!”
“in my defense, i thought you swallowed the garbage can and was trying to fucking recycle!”
“you dimwitted fuck!” he exclaims, offended.
“you're one to speak, there's not an iota of intelligence in your small fry brain!”
“enough!” steve threw a withering glare to the kids, who continued to glare and hurl expletives and insults under bated breath. steve felt an incoming headache and sensed a few white hairs making itself known, however.
the team snickers, familiar with the banter. whereas fury watches with impatience and beside him, you giggle. this was the infamous sam wilson and bucky barnes; both soldiers, one a wold war veteran at that.
“can you shut the fuck up for one moment, so we can proceed with the meeting?” fury barks, which ceased the arguement for a bit.
enough that they finally take a seat, and for bucky and you to finally meet eyes; both of you freezing, as an electric like current flows through the single stare.
unconsciously, you take a stuttering breath, pupils blowing wide once you register the heavenly scent permeating in the air; of fresh pine and sultry sandalwood, coupled with hints of damascus rose. it smelled positively divine, that your throat dries up, and you looked away in order to suppress the primal urge, clawing at your sanity to jump the wide-eyed super soldier.
fuck, you wanted to knot him.
your designation has never held to be a defining quality of yours, but at this very moment, every single ounce of your cells were itching to grab him, despite his obviously bigger statesque frame, and scent his glands, chanting deliriously.
oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
but he can't be an omega— could he? he could. ofcourse he can, you add. but you've never felt such a strong pull towards an omega, let alone one you've never bonded with.
and then, there was the concept of true mates. they weren't impossible to have, just.. rare.
“you okay, agent?” fury asks, quietly. you nodded solemnly despite struggling to remain composed. you had to. lest your mate- you say that with internal glee and equal parts worry- thinks lowly of the way you present yourself.
suddenly, it was no longer just the nerves of working with world reknowned heroes that weighed like a ton on your shoulder, the pressure to do well and be liked by this particular group and their pack, even more brutal.
the meeting proceeded without a hitch, after a momentary stare off concerning barnes and the new avenger; y/n y/l/n. if the avengers had noticed something, they didn't mention it. she was articulate in conveying her ideas, and when she introduced herself along with her capabilities, people hang off her every word interestingly.
bucky listened intently, but he was restless inside. his hindbrain was urging him to do all sorts of mating calls to appeal to his alpha, even the preconcieved title she already has in his own brain, he had no control of.
his omega recognized the small, and intoxicatingly divine smelling alpha, with the flawless face and even more perfect curves, coupled with her wits and talents, his.
how in the world does he deserve her? she's untainted, sharp and every sort of perfect, while he was fifty shades of screwed over.
but holy crap, if he weren't singing inside his head whenever you would glance at him in midst of speaking, and smile softly. it made all sorts of animals trample his stomach.
his head swam with the thoughts of you, and he barely registers fury's speech to disperse; everyone shuffling in their seat and slowly piling to the doors after shaking your hand, welcoming you to the team.
“you got this buddy,” steve was last to leave with an encouraging smile, making him breathe out shakily.
was he too fucking obvious? but no, he was sure they were discreet and their stares brief. it was the star spangled hero's intelligible guess with his eldest friend's behavior. he paid too much attention to what was being said in the meeting.
he clenches his fist unconsciously, insecurity gnawing at the forefront. he had a metal arm, he had done all sorts of things heinous. he was a terrible, terrible man and he would totally deserve it if—
“seargent.” your tone was a touch softer, making his head snap towards you. he was not aware of your footsteps drawing near, which is why he startles when he sees your distance, merely a few steps away from him. “are you okay?” worry laced your voice, noticing the distinct hints of something wrong in his scent.
“i-i'm fine.” he stammers out, cursing silently because of his inability to speak properly. get it together!
“yeah?” you tilt your head to the side, heartbeat hammering in your chest. “can i.. can i hold your hand?” the words slip out before you can coral it, knowing it to be such a weird request but it was either that, or your base instincts was shrieking to do some things unspeakable to your omega.
he reaches his flesh hand to you, sweating palms and all, yet you clasp it gently, intertwining your fingers carefully.
“thankyou,” you murmur shyly, smiling at him.
“don't worry about it.” he squeaks, with sa strained voice which made you giggle.
“bucky.” he replies, watching with wide eyes when you place his hands on your face. he almost preens at the soft flesh under his warm palm.
“nice to meet you, omega.” he couldn't help the yip of joy that escapes him, and if it were even possible, you glower with happiness. “i'm courting you, just so you know.” and that is how you made a grown ass man, blush a bright shade of red.
I dream that I taught tfatws!bucky all the nice things what people do in this century.. like thigh riding, daddy-kinks, being tied up/blind folded, degrading and praising, cock-warming, kinky sex etc. And boyy he wanted to do all of it in thst moment with me/to me 👁👄👁
“Is this what people write about me?” Your head turned away from the buzzing tv when Bucky chirped up. The tower was fairly empty except for the two of you. And it wasn’t new for him to come with you with questions as you’d become his unofficial guide into this modern world.
“What?” You were a bit confused with his sudden question. He turns his photo towards you and it takes a moment for the words shining on the screen to seep into your head. You nervously gulp as you realise it’s a smutty fanfic about him.
How should I explain this now?
“It’s a.. a fanfiction.. like uh…” you splutter about your words but Bucky just shakes his head. “Yeah I searched up what it meant on the internet. I mean I’m flattered they write about me. It’s interesting for sure. But I don’t even know what half of these words mean. What’s cock warming? Is it something related to chickens?”
“Bucky.. I… it’s…I umm…” your entire body became warm and Bucky held back a chuckle as you stuttered with embarrassment. Of course he knew what that meant. He just wanted to see you getting all flustered.
“If it’s so difficult to explain, why don’t you just show me?” Your jaw fell open as you stared with disbelieving eyes at Bucky. On the other hand, he was loving the look of utter shock on your face. Yeah, it was gonna be a fun night.
a/n: should I write this as one shot? 👀
JOIN MY SLEEPOVER!!
hi! i love your writing so much! idk if you’ve done something like this before, but could i request a bucky x reader imagine where the reader is really high maintenance? if not, that’s okay! xx
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Summary: He knows that when he takes his girl out, not forgetting his wallet is important. There are many things his baby is—sweet, witty, smart-mouthed, a little bit of a freak; among the big list he's compiled so far, 'cheap' is nowhere to be found. It takes a lot to keep her happy. Bucky loves the challenge.
A/n: Feedback is really important to me. Tell me what you think and I'll adore ya forever :)
Word count: 3.1k
Warning(s): This work is intended for 18+ audiences. Minors, DNI. I also do not allow for my work to be copied, translated, or reuploaded anywhere else.
Main Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist
There were many surprises in re-adapting to life in the 21st century with a mind of his own, free to do whatever he wanted, search for and make the life he never could in the past, and, of course, create his own reasons to be happy, have his sense of self back.
One of the things he did not include or expect to be on that list: getting used to designer brand luxury stores.
What could he say?
Sgt. Bucky Barnes' girl was not a cheap date. Never had been, and if he had his way, never would be.
She was one of those people who were not born into wealth but still were born with a sense of self-worth which made them richer than a lot of others in life.
Y/n never gave her time to people who never earned it, she cultivated friendships of a lifetime and had the maturity to surround herself with people who were true to what they wanted just like her; the beauty of her confidence exuded in every pore of her being, and it was what attracted him towards her in the first place.
She also enjoyed fine things.
Which was okay—there was the desire for money (stupid) and the desire for good things (reasonable) and when the latter existed and the person didn't turn into someone else in order to get what they wanted, Bucky couldn't see a problem with liking extravaganze.
Bucky always thought fondly of how his first time truly flirting with her went.
"With a mouth like that and answers like these, I could think you're trying to flirt with me."
"Trying? Sergeant, if I was flirting with you, you'd know."
"I—Really? Wow. All the times you flicked your hair at me, you were just playing with my heart, then?"
"Never did that either. I think you are trying to flirt with me, Sergeant Barnes."
"Outch—is the thought of it that funny to you?"
"Oh, no. Not that. I am definitely flirting with you. I just thought it was funny you trying to deny you were looking specifically for my attention those times when you love rolling your tongue around Sergeant Barnes that damn much, y'know?"
"D'you always speak to your work colleagues this up close or...?"
"I don't know, d'you always talk to yours while focusing so much on their lips? ... Ah. There it is. I got those cheeks pink once and I thought it was just a fluke, but I think I got it. See—the way I see it, Mrs. Y/l/n, we could be doing this flirting elsewhere. Like on a date, or... on a date? Or. Instead, you could tell me again about how I'm wasting my time here because you are 'not flirting with me'."
"... Could we?"
"Well. All this time you've been 'flirting' with me—"
"I do not appreciate the air quotes."
"Stop smiling at me like that, I'm trying to focus here."
Bucky wanted to kiss her there and then. He stopped himself, and bit down on his smile.
"As I was saying, all this time you've been 'flirting' with me, you let out that a) 'this generation', aka people my age, tend to annoy you with their 'silly' hobbies, and I'm not sure which one of mine would fall into that category and a) said you don't like going out and doing 'fun' things is overrated, and... While I appreciate the frown and adore the sexy smolder it's attached to it... I'd need a little more than that."
"... You're right. It's—hard. For me, still, to just... let my guard down."
"I can see that."
"I'm trying, though..."
"I can see that, too."
"Good. So—if I showed you I meant it, maybe you could tell me about your hobbies? I'd keep my old brain very open to all of them. I—you're a really smart, funny, and witty woman, Y/n. Beautiful as the icing on it all. I... would love to try. If you want me to."
The smile you gave him then sealed it. Bucky Barnes knew: after all those months of flirting, he'd do anything for you. For that smile. That attention in those eyes.
"I'm not a cheap date, Sergeant Barnes," you whispered, the smile lazier than ever, or maybe it was the hooded blink in your eyes.
Bucky felt glad for the first time that his job under Fury and Captain America — he'd have to thank Sam Wilson, fuck — gave him real money.
He spent it rarely on things, never quite finding anything worth it besides a good motorbike, decorating his house to not look like a hotel, and a few good weapons.
He was willing to spend any amount on you.
"I'll make sure to take you somewhere nice."
"Wow... Are you gonna smile like that when you pick me up?"
"If you're looking at me like this, then yes." He laughs. "I like that smile."
"I like yours more."
"What are your favorite flowers?"
"You heard me. This is my first proper date in—actually, never mind. You don't need to know the number. In a long time. So I'm doing it right."
"Thank you. You can go back to work now."
"I'm not one of your Agents, Sergeant."
"You do realize I'm the Second Superior in Command of the entire Avengers Compound, right?"
"Captain America," he puts his hands high on top. "Me." He lowers his hands just a little."
"Technically, doesn't even exist."
"So... you're my boss's boss?"
"Right. Good to know, Sergeant."
That had been the first date of many.
Bucky kept good on his word and doing so managed to bring you into his life. Light took over many corners that had been dark for years.
He took you to museums, art galleries, book launchings, and whatever else you asked him to, and had pleasure in doing so.
The days were not all spent out, either.
You showed him that when he let his guard down and showed you more than just his frowns or just the Sergeant you met walking the walls of the Compound, you could let your guard down, too.
Inside his apartment, you two watched countless movies, painted the walls, ordered take-out from several different places in the city with the intent of trying and figure out all the best ones—you napped with him. Accompanied him to physical therapy sessions he had with Dr. Park as he tried to learn life without the arm, too.
Some of it was flashy nights in the city, but some were quiet nights with jazz and wine, too.
Bucky loved every side of this.
All of them were worth their weight in gold.
None of the designer stores he's ever visited made Bucky comfortable, but most of them were tolerable because of the champagne.
He enjoyed having something to do with his hands.
After a few months of visiting them every now and then, he ever learned a few cool games he could play as he stood or sat in the waiting area. This time, he was playing 'spot the places you could conduct secret sound surveillance without never being found' when you called his name.
"C'mere for a sec, please?" You called.
Your voice sounded just a fraction too off for his liking, so Bucky puts down the glass and in a few steps arrives at the fitting room where you are.
When he enters the place, Bucky's jaw meets the velvety floor.
Gods, she looks breathtaking.
He walks almost subconsciously, stepping closer until he's standing right behind you as his eyes take over every inch of the outfit.
To accompany him as his date to the dinner the committee was holding for spies and allies in a lot of other countries, you'd come to shop for a new dress. You'd told Bucky you had never better to a party that important, and while part of him wanted to tone it down, say the occasion wasn't that fancy at all, the number of scientists, people Fury called personally to attend and the secret venue made it impossible.
So he told you to go shopping, and now, here you two were.
You in a satin, shimmery dress, a slit high up your thigh and with the back almost naked except for a few super thin straps of gold metal holding it together, and Bucky right behind you with his eyes darker than when he entered, his work clothes — jeans, a black t-shirt and his leather jacket on top — and a stupid look on his face.
"Holy fucking..." his words die out. The eyes are too busy drinking all of you in.
He's so busy watching how every bit of the dress clings to your body that Bucky almost misses the insecurity in your face. If it weren't for the way you whisper, "You think it's nice?" It would pass by him.
Your voice calls his eyes to go up to your face though, and that's when he sees.
The dark spark of judgment in your eyes, which are glued to the middle, where the dress hugs tight your round belly—the stomach he loves squeezing, loving, and biting, even on the days where you find it hard to love all the bits of you, that's one of the parts Bucky sees your eyes darting back to. You seem to judge your clavicle as well, exposed in the thin straps that hold the dress, even your arms.
"It's not too..."
"Too what?" Bucky chuckles. "Too sexy? Maybe." He's done with the uncertainty on your face, so he closes the distance between your bodies. "But that's a problem for me to deal."
"Buck. I'm serious," you even sound the part when you lock gazes with him through the mirror. "I know I'm—I try my best to be nice to myself and I accomplish it most of the time, but this is a big deal. And—with you. I'm your date. You wanna take me as your date, I gotta look the part." Your voice lowers, tugging on the strings of Bucky's heart. "I wanna look good."
"Baby." Bucky wraps both arms around your waist, hugging your body tightly. "You look way past good," he states, pressing a firm kiss to your cheek, and making sure to keep his eyes on yours so he sees that you believe he means every word. "Good was left in the dust. Miles behind ya. This? This is gold. I mean—It's literally gold—what is this fabric? God, it's good."
You giggle when he starts feeling up your body with both hands, and he thinks there it is. Much better. "Bucky—"
"Shhh, I'm tryna figure out what fabric this is."
"It's satin. Stop feeling me up!" you giggle.
"Hm. Your words say 'stop', and your body says 'oh, I love it, James, keep going'." He does stop, though, even if you were leaning into the touch. Even if you were pushing more of your back to mold on his front. He rests his chin on your shoulder and kisses the skin there. "I meant it. You look amazing, baby. Wasn't this the first dress you set eyes on when you walked in?"
Bashful with how much he's noticed, you nod. "Yeah."
He nods. "You've got good eyes."
"It's really not too much for an official, high-ranking, Fury-made Avengers party?"
"Nope," and Bucky would not give a rat's ass if it were. This is the dress you want and he knows it, and if what you wanted was to wear a black plastic bag, he'd let you.
"Right." You look to yourself again in the mirror, and Bucky watched you doing so. "I wanted to ask. 'Cause I know it's... tight."
"It's fitting," he corrects. His palms run through your stomach, the rolls and curves of your waist and thighs, and feels you sighing against his chest. "Looks really damn good."
That's a different kind of tone. Bucky's lips form a smile right against the skin of your shoulder, and he decides to show you just how much he loves the dress.
His right hand makes a slow path to the hem of the dress while he presses kisses alongside your jaw, then on your neck. He pays good attention to that spot in the juncture of your shoulder and neck where you love to feel his tongue, his teeth—by the time his hand is sneaking under it, your legs are already parting for him just with the ministrations of his mouth on that sensitive part of your body.
Reluctant to leave his other hand from where it is, Bucky noses along your cheek until the magnetism of his lips close to yours calls you in for a kiss.
Your lips meet his slowly, and Bucky revels in the feeling of your tongue.
There's a reason he uses his right hand and not the metal one (most of the time): Bucky loves to feel on skin how warm you are.
The inside of your thighs are burning, and the soft moan you let out against his mouth makes his neck feel as hot as your core must be right now.
"Bucky," this time, it's said as a warning.
"What?" He runs the tip of his fingers deeper between your thighs until it's brushing on the fabric of your underwear. "Want me to stop?"
You gasp softly when Bucky's thumb makes contact with your folds, running upwards until it brushes on your clit. "I... we're in public."
"Never stopped us before," he chuckles, nosing along with your temple now. He feels how wet you are getting even through the panties. That's reason number two he enjoys to use his right hand.
"I'm still trying on the dress," you protest. It's weak in comparison to the way your hips are starting to be less than innocent in what you two are doing.
"I'll buy it. I'll buy ten of them."
It's your turn to chuckle. "You can't afford ten of these," your voice is a little breathy, but you're still too smart-mouthed for his tastes.
"I'll hack into politicians' accounts and buy this store, Y/n. You're not the only one with insane hacking abilities in this fitting room," Bucky feels himself getting worked up by how wet you already are and the fact that the sight in front of him in the mirror is his, so he starts kissing your neck again. "Can I show you what I see? How good you look in this, hm?"
You exhale in surrender, and Bucky feels all your weight pressed on him. "Okay."
"Thank you, baby." Bucky gets a little dizzy with how much he wants you, sometimes. "You gotta see what I see, 'cause..."
He stops teasing you, and instead of just a brush, he now cups his hand over your whole cunt, applying pressure to the heat he finds there.
He starts. "You see, this is the thing..." With his other hand, Bucky lets down your hair and drapes it on one side, making it voluminous. The blush on your cheeks helps with the vision too. Dropping his voice so low that only you can hear it with his lips pressing right on the shell of your ear, he continues. "This is the privileged vision you'd wanna deprive people of. Look at you. Look in the mirror, baby—yeah. See that? That's you. And fuck, don't you just look delicious enough to eat?"
"James, stop teasing. Please. Please," you plea.
He loves hearing you call him his name. The first time you did it, a voice in his head that came from decades ago said:
Hey, I'm Bucky. The dames call me James, but Bucky's what most people know me for.
You bring that voice and the person who said it back, even if just a little.
"Please what?" He demands.
"Your fingers," you whine.
"Sh. I'll give you what you want," he whispers, but then lifts his metal hand to cover your mouth. He knows you'd tell the whole store what you two are up to otherwise. "You gotta keep quiet, though."
You nod behind his hand, and Bucky enjoys the view a little too much.
He stops teasing you after that.
Bucky pushes your panties to the side and starts by spreading your slick all through your folds, coating his fingers with it until he's lubed up all the way to his knuckles.
Then, he starts circling your clit.
That's when your eyes roll to the back of your head.
Bucky looks at the mirror and all his mind can conjure is The Cursed Woman, 1859. He'd seen that painting with you, and while he'd die if another man touched you (let alone two), he believed he could take the part of all three of them and make you the center of that art still.
You looked like a painting when pleasure hit all the nerves of your body.
Melting against his torso, Bucky watched you writhe and buckle against his head, seeking more of his fingers until he gripped your throat for a second in a warning and groaned, "Stand still," and you nodded in compliance.
You stop pushing your hips back on his crotch and just took what he gave you.
He'd still grow hard as a rock until you came, but with you obeying him at least there were no chances of him cumming undone in his pants like a teenager.
Some things are easier to mask than others.
Bucky finally takes pity on you and starts pumping his fingers inside you, one by one.
He first dips one all the way 'till his knuckles. Then two, which is a bit more of a stretch, but only for a few seconds. Your cunt swallows his fingers greedily the more you catch a glimpse of you two in the mirror, and the only sounds in the fitting room are both of your hard breathings and the low noises of your wetness and his fingers finding your spot relentlessly.
Bucky's glad for the music playing outside—when he does find your spot, it's impossible for him not to chase that orgasm that knocks all strength out of your legs.
He's three fingers deep in you when your hips start rocking back against his hard-on, and Bucky's too far gone in the way your eyes keep finding details on the reflection to pay attention to. He lets you.
Bucky finds that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and hits it until you're clenching around his fingers and your legs are shaking, your eyes nothing but white.
He'll buy you the dress, and a new pair of shoes to go along with, and after the event is done, he'll take all of them off and throw it somewhere in his house, just for the pleasure of seeing all of you like this—head swimming in pleasure, knowing you're the most gorgeous sight he's got to lay eyes on.
🏷 b.b. tag list ☆ @undiadeestos ; @keepingitlokiii ; @hallecarey1 ; @mardema ; @mollygetssherlockcoffee ; @justlovelifeblog ; @fallenoutofrose ; @rvgrsbrns ; @tripletstephaniescp ; @mal-edictions-blog ; @rippl3s ; @barnesafterglow ; @vintagepigeon ; @dirtyweenerking ; @couldabeenamermaid ; @winter-soldier-sebstan ; @leyannrae ; @nerdwholikesword ; @andreead ; @ren-ni ; @pastamomma ; @fiftyshadesofokay ; @peonyophelia ; @murdermornings ; @bvckysmoon ; @buttybarnes1917 ; @rebekahdawkins ; @tylard-blog1 ; @xbeauxny ; @redirection04 ; @thatblondebrownie ; @carrotfantasimp ; @teenagedreams-bucky ; @buckspumpkin ; @sltwins ; @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson ; @mrsbarnesinmyimagination ; @pineprincess ; @cpag7 ; @iambeeee ; @sstan-hoe ; @weirdowithnobeardo ; @hdbngsprnva ; @itsdawnashlie ; @sweetdreamsbuck ; @slutforsteve ; @maladaptivexxdaydreaming ; @holl2712 ♡
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 3,032
Warning(s): NSFW, Face riding, Oral Sex, (Female receiving), Bucky is just a sweet dude wondering how his date went :(
A/N: I love you all and thanks for waiting around for me :)
Summary: You sound insane, you sound absolutely, positively insane when you tell your friends that you’re avoiding your amazing tinder date like the plague because… he fucks too good?
“It’s not that I want to freak you out, but there’s someone watching us.”
“What? Where?!” You searched the small coffee shop frantically.
“Girl.” She snapped. “Relax. Sit back and calm down.”
“You can’t just say someone’s watching us and then tell me to calm down, JJ.”
“I’m not gonna tell where he is you until you calm down and stop being so obvious.”
You sighed loudly, slumping in your chair and took a sip of your tea. “Relaaaaax,” you mocked her obnoxiously. “Calm down. There is somebody watching us how the fuck-”
“Shit, I think he’s coming.”
“What? Who? Who’s coming?!”
“My 9, your 3.” JJ whispered over her straw, lowering her head and avoiding looking too long in one direction.
“Jordyn, what did I tell you about that?” You turned your head to look to your left, outside the large window you and JJ had been people watching out of just minutes ago, scanning for any staring stragglers. “We are not soldiers in the - oh my god.”
It was unlucky for you to turn your head at that exact moment and meet his eye. Bucky fuckin Barnes. Your head snapped back to JJ, sinking into the chair.
“You know him.” She realized. “Who is he?”
JJ’s questioning fell on deaf ears because all you were thinking was fuck. Besides being the thing that got you in this predicament in the first place, fuck. Fuck as in fuck, he’s across the street. Fuck as in holy fuck he’s here right now.
Fuck your life.
Speaking of fuck why did you let him fuck you that way? Like he was touch starved, like he was fucking in case he’d never fuck again, fucking like only Bucky Barnes could fuck you, apparently.
“Y/N, who the hell is that big ass white dude standing there like the Terminator!”
You took a deep breath before sitting up, boring your eyes into hers. “Is he still there?”
“Yeah, he looks like he’s contemplating it.”
You hummed, absentmindedly. You could still make it out the door in time if he did decide to cross, right? If you slipped your jacket on in the next millisecond you could make him think seeing you was a fever dream.
“Y/N!” JJ slapped the table. “Snap out of it and tell me what the hell is going on.”
“Okay. Do you remember the guy I told you about, maybe a week or two ago? Tinder date. Big guy, super sweet, didn’t talk much, almost dislocated my hip fucking me?”
Her mouth fell open, eyes wide. “No.”
You nodded. “And remember when I told you if I ever saw him again I would die? On the spot from-” you went rigid hearing the ring of the bell above the front door. You were too afraid to look up, so you glared, wide eyed at your drink.
“Y/N!” JJ whispered hastily, but you ignored her trying to convince yourself this wasn’t real, wasn’t happening and was just a really-
“Y/N.” A shadow was cast over the table, and your stomach tied itself in a knot at the familiar voice. “I thought it was you.” You couldn’t move, you were stuck. Staring stupidly at the table like you were expecting a sort of disassociation.
Jumping into to save you and everyone else at the table from a longer silence than had already ensued, she jumped up. “Hi! I’m JJ. Who are you?” She stuck her hand out expectantly.
He shook it reluctantly, shifting his attention to her but shooting you confused glances. “I’m Bucky. Nice to meet you.”
“No, it’s nice to meet you. Y/N and I were just having a coffee. Well I was, she’s drinking that sugary shit. What is it,” she reached and snatched the receipt from the top of her bag, “Iced Green Tea, which it tastes nothing like.”
Bucky laughed, but you could tell it was forced by its shortness. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, I’m sorry. It was nice seeing you.” He turned moving just as quickly as he came, and JJ jumped up.
“Hey, where ya goin?”
Bucky turned back confused as to why she had to ask. It was apparent, even to a deaf and blind that you didn’t want to talk to him. A conclusion he came to on his own with the missed texts and lack of communication on your end. A conclusion he shouldn’t have ignored once he finally did come to.
“What? You’re crazy, can’t you tell how excited she is? She’s just having one of those things, they’re very normal. You’d better get used to it.” She nudges him with her elbow.
“Right.” He nodded, not at all convinced. Like any normal person would be by Jordyn’s antics.
“Why don’t you join us?” She offered.
“Thank you but no. I’m going to-“
“Hi, Bucky.” Your brain had finally jump started and that was the first thing out of your mouth, finally ripping your eyes away from the table and gazing up at him.
He was stunned for a moment, but then a small smile. “Hi.”
“Hi.” You smiled back, it falling when you realized. “I… said that already.”
He clicked his teeth, still smiling. “I’m afraid you did..”
“Oh. My. God.” JJ interrupted, dramatically. “Would you look at that? My cat just died. I have to go home and plan his funeral.” She lied, looking at her watch.
“Wha - J-“
She sucked her teeth, gathering her things from the table and stuffing them into their bag. “You know that fucker was really old anyway he should’ve died two Christmases ago,” she looked up at you and Bucky’s petrified faces. “Oh it’s fine, he was living on borrowed time.” She waved you two off, slipped her jacket on and stuffed her small purse under her arm. “But you my friend,” she clapped Bucky on the back. “You can walk my friend home and use your big man muscles to protect her.”
“Uh, are you sure you’re okay-“
“You talk too much. And you,” she turned to you, bending down to eye level. “You are going to let Bucky walk you home and you’re going to say thank you, the right way like I raised you with some manners.”
You rolled your eyes at the translation which was to bring her back more sex stories to enjoy. She blew you a kiss, weaved through the line of customers and disappeared up the block leaving just you, Bucky, and the little kid three tables over who was fascinated with his metal hand.
“Jordyn’s a lot.” You explained, breaking the silence.
“No, yeah I figured.” He tugged down the tip of his cap and stuffed his hand in his front pocket, the other holding a large cup of what you assumed to be coffee.
“I’m sorry that-”
You both started and stopped at the same time realizing the overlap. Bucky bowed out, “Ladies first.”
“Oh, I’m sorry about Jordyn, she’s just eccentric. You don’t have to walk me home.”
“I wouldn’t mind it.” He offered, eagerly. “If you wanted, I wouldn’t mind at all.”
“Really?” You didn’t sound excited in the least and he noticed. You hoped he wasn’t getting excited at the possibility of another session. You still hadn’t mentally recovered from the last and faced with the prospect of another you were scared of the kind of shameful things you’d do.
“Only if you want to.” He emphasized.
He was being sweet, so you accepted. He waited while you gathered your things and held the door for you as you left. You only lived about ten blocks away, and you were leading the way so you set the pace. Not too fast where it felt like you were trying to get away, but quick enough that you’d be home in no time.
He didn’t try to start a conversation once, every time you mustered up the courage to look his way for more than a second, his eyes were hidden under his cap, and he looked like he was in deep thought about something. Even though he was silent he was a gentleman. He kept on the outside near the street, and if even for a second someone was too close in passing he pulled you into his side. You wished he didn’t have that goddamn weapon on him. If that wasn’t part of the equation you would so easily give into him, he was a sweetheart with a titanium dick.
You tried to start a conversation about the coffee shop; their menu, and the surrounding blocks, the lively strip of shops. He only nodded sprinkling hums and yeah’s every other sentence so you gave up, giving into the silence. When you arrived in front of your apartment building you two stood awkwardly for a moment. You weren’t going to invite him up and he wasn’t going to ask.
You sighed. He was always earnest in the way he said your name. It was the exact same, over the first phone call, and over dinner. It only changed when he was worshipping it, fucking you silly, whispering it like an exaltation, an honor to have it grace his lips when he was inside, dripping with the wetness he just-
You blinked, bringing yourself back. “What for?”
“For whatever I did or didn’t do that made you so uncomfortable. I read this wrong. I didn’t mean to crash in on your Coffee date with your friend. There’s just a coffee shop right across the street from there that I usually go to-“
“Bucky. You don’t have to lay out your day for me. I don’t think you were just following me around.”
He nodded, “Thanks for letting me down easy, I appreciate it. I had a great time.”
You frowned, “Bucky....”
“No, it’s okay. I understand that sometimes it just doesn’t...” He trailed off, pushing his cap down once more, starting down the block.
“You fuck like you’re running out of pussy!” You blurted out, a misguided attempt to stop him from leaving with that idea in his head. You slapped your hand over your mouth, realizing what you’d just yelled.
He turned back toward you slowly. The look on his face was enough to make you jump into the bushes and hide. But you resisted the urge to hide, scrambling to explain your outburst.
“Has anyone ever told you that? No? Okay, well you do. And it’s kind of like woah he’s really fucking me, you know? Then there’s like this moment where I’m wondering if I died but I didn’t it’s just you giving me another orgasm and it kind of feels like I swallowed fireworks and you’re setting them off in my stomach, at the least. But at the most it feels like attempted murder and-” Your eyes widened when a woman passed, her bubbly toddler in hand and you swallowed the rest of your especially loud, inappropriate, and ill timed rant.
You heaved, “Right, so I’m gonna go now. Thank you so much.” You rushed up the stairs, fumbling for your keys, and fortunately, every key was the wrong one. Why was the mailbox key showing up when you needed the goddamned key to-
“Y/N?” He called.
“Hm?” You squealed.
“Can I come up?”
“Sure.” You finally found your key and unlocked the door, stepping aside to let him in. You opted to take the stairs instead of the elevator because the silence while waiting might’ve just been the thing to send you into anaphylactic shock. He followed behind you silently, until you reached your door. He leaned against the frame while you fiddled with that fucking lock, that always chose the worst times to jam.
“What does that even mean?”
You shrugged, knowing what he was referring to. “You fuck like your-“
“Please don’t say it again.” You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m still confused enough from the first time.” You pushed in the door, took the key out, and invited him in. You shed your layers by your coat rack; bag, shoes, jacket, and sweater while he stood around.
“You can sit down if you want. I’ll take your-”
“I mean is it a good or bad thing? The fucking like ... you know. I’m not sure what that means.”
You sighed. “Ignore whatever I just said. I just wanted you to know that there wasn’t anything you did or didn’t do. You were an honest gentleman, and I enjoyed every moment that we were together.”
“So then why the distance? I texted you, I’m pretty sure that it went through. I know that sometimes I type it and doesn’t send but you never answered.”
“I like you.” You confessed. “I really, really do. If things were a little different then maybe we could. But...”
“Oh. Another guy?”
Saddened by his dejected tone, you rushed to explain. “It’s me! Nothing on your part.”
“That isn’t true. What you’re saying and how you’re acting are telling two different stories. You won’t stand close to me like I’m fucking radioactive or something and I … fuck like I’m running out of pussy? I don’t know if that’s a good time, or a really shitty time. Put it in plain language for me, please.”
You shook your head. “I like having sex with you.”
His brows lifted curiously.
“I almost fucking love it. You fucked me like - like I don’t know! But you did and it was amazing. And you’re sweet and I would love to go on another date with you, but I don’t know how to be around you without thinking of sex and wanting to jump your bones. I have to physically stop myself from-” you zipped your lips shit, stopping yourself from getting too graphic, accidentally riling yourself up.
He was quiet, didn’t look up and his cap once again hid his eyes from you, so you took a hint. “Yeah, so that’s it. I’m really sorry-“
“What’s so bad about that? Wanting to jump my bones and all? If I don’t mind it?”
You gulped, “N-nothing I guess.”
He nodded, contemplating how far he should go. “I’ve been making myself cum for the past two weeks, just thinking of you, of us. But I figured I’d seem a little eager if I asked you to…”
“Asked me to what?” You stepped forward, bright eyed and ready to jump.
“Let me fuck you again. But softer, or slower if that’s better for you, or however you… However you… whatever feels good.”
“Will it count as our second date?”
He smiled. “Second dates are usually dinner dates but I think we can work something out.
Later, Bucky found out were a flight risk. You couldn’t sit still. Warranted, he was sucking your clit like a lollipop, nonetheless you were given instructions to stay still. As far as Bucky was concerned though, that wasn’t a problem. With his arms hooked around your thighs keeping you anchored to his face he was too preoccupied to worry about your squirming.
You were too preoccupied going insane.
Between the sloppy laps he was making around your clit, sloshing his spit, and your cum from the last orgasm, to and fro with every flick of his tongue and the feel of his fingers digging into your flesh it was evident he was happily suffocating.
Another thing about the man smothered between your legs wasn’t his appetite, insatiable for your pussy to caress his lips but it was the sounds he made. After every lick, every prolonged trip around your lips he was moaning. A deep grunt there, a low pitched fuck there. He was having the time of his life.
But you weren’t, not anymore.
Your legs were giving out, weak from continuous shaking, muscles aching from tightening, throat sore from screaming. You were exhausted and he seemed to have hours to go.
“Buc - mhm - I can’t,” Your hips rocked violently, falling forward you grabbed the headboard. “Fuck!” Your thighs tensed, smooshing his face.
He could get off on this for weeks. Just remembering the taste of you on his tongue, the feel of you on his lips, every please and yes, the jut of your hips and arch of your back, the feel of soft flesh under his tongue. He was happily on the verge of lockjaw. But if he could just get one more, if he could watch you lose your mind one last time he’d be set. Until tomorrow at least, when he’s up thinking of new ways to explore you.
He counted down with the signs he became accustomed to.
Five, the loud inhale. You knew you were coming down too.
Four, the lean back. Hands pressed into his chest, pushing yourself forward on his tongue. You were feeling good.
Three, the chorus of your stuttered breaths. The walls were closing in, and it was leaving you breathless.
Two, the lean forward. Hands clutched around the edges of your headboard, feet arched, toes curling into the bed. So close.
One, the promiscuous wild rock. Your body’s shaking but it’s right there. Tightening your core, flexing your calves as you thrust your cunt into his face with no regard, abs he welcomed it.
You finished on his face.
Still gasping for air, on the verge of unconsciousness from exhaustion, you tapped into your last bit of strength to lift yourself up off of him and falling beside him. He wiped his face with his hands though sticky pleasure was still left on his chin when he was finished.
“I’m tired.” You announced, sluggishly.
He laughed, “I know. Don’t fall asleep on me, okay?” He whispered kissing you on the lips.
You licked yours instinctively, the salty taste of yourself melting in your tongue. Before he could ask you yelled to him the towels were in the linen closet, the third door to the left. He came back with a bottle of water and a wet hand towel. He wiped your face and neck and held the bottle up while you guzzled.
“Hm?” He wiped away a stream of water from your messy drinking.
“You eat like you’re running out of pussy too.” You fell forward in arms, snuggling into his chest.
“We’ve got to find you another saying.”
strictly confidential (b.b. x reader)
pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader
summary: the two of you had agreed this was a private affair and nobody needed to know about this little arrangement of yours.
warnings: allusions to smut.
a/n: MY FIRST POST IN SO LONG OMG. just a smol drabble while I battle with writer's block for Vermillion Watch
as always, this is an even more fictional world than the fictional world where everybody is alive and gets along. because I said so.
(gif not mine, credits to the owner/creator)
"when do you think he'll confess?" Sam asked, chewing on the sandwich he had made moments ago.
"it's Bucky. he might never confess at all." Natasha quipped.
"he needs a little push sometimes," Steve agreed. "the man can go his entire life not admitting to a single emotion."
"understatement of the year." Sam rubbed his hands on his sweatpants, eyes glimmering. "we should give him that little push, what do you say?"
"how?" your giggle interrupted the conversation as you and Bucky rounded the corner to the kitchen.
"hi guys," you said, waving a hand to the team and going over to make a bowl of cereal for you and coffee for Bucky.
"thanks, doll." Bucky said, taking the cup you handed him with a wide smile. the three people in the room stared at the exchange with baited breaths.
"get a room." Sam murmured when you returned his smile with yours just as big and goofy.
Bucky heard that, but let it go, red tinting his cheeks.
when breakfast was over and you and Bucky decided to hit the gym to train, Sam turned to Nat and Steve. "we gotta do something, those idiots make me gag."
the plan was set.
they would get you two to spar together, hoping a little action would get things heated between the two of you. it was a foolproof plan, according to Sam and Steve. Natasha felt indifferent to it.
the three decided to give you two a visit down at the gym, hoping to set the plan in motion.
FRIDAY's voice echoed the floor number as the elevator doors opened to you seated... on Bucky's lap?
"did- did our plan work-?" Steve stuttered out, looking at your and Bucky's sweaty bodies groping each other and kissing fervently.
Nat cleared her throat, you gasping and pushing away from Bucky. your breaths were coming out heavy, embarrassment flooding your eyes.
"I- what are you doing here?" you screeched, looking over at Bucky who was trying really hard to contain his arousal and not look at his friends.
"what are you two doing?" Sam asked, horrified. "oh god I gotta bleach my eyes out."
"isn't that what you wanted?" Bucky said, raising his eyebrows, confusing you.
"I didn't wanna see it!?"
"how long has this been going?" Steve asked, picture of a stern parent.
"long enough." Bucky replied, helping you stand up and letting you hide your face in his side.
"we didn't think it was important to let anybody know just now." you said, eyes downcast.
"why?! this is the single greatest news you could have ever told us." Sam all but shouted.
"gee, I wonder why." Natasha mumbled, catching your eyes and giving you a supportive smile.
weeellllll look who's back shjkdahdjakshjdas. this might be a lil too rushed cos, well, it's me. hope you liked it, thank you so much for reading!
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader.
CW: NSFW for language & smut. WC: 2K
AN: roughly written & not beta’d. Also for @storiesofsvu bingo with the line: “C’mere, let me hold you.”
Summary: You & Bucky spend the day at Coney Island. Super fluff + spice.
Coney Island had undergone many iterations since it started in 1829. It was still just as much a weekend escape for the working class now as it was back in the day. Three subway lines converged at the ocean, and you were on one of them, accompanied by a man who knew of Coney Island long before you did.
That’s what happened when your boyfriend was a centenarian.
The train roared and squealed as it made its way towards the south of Brooklyn. It was packed, with the majority excitedly heading to the beach, as it was the first day open to swimmers. You leaned your head on Bucky’s shoulder, and he wrapped his vibranium arm around you. No one batted an eye at the metal arm. Androids, aliens and wizards - the big three - were widely accepted so long as the universe didn’t implode.
The subway screeched to a stop, the conductor making a very muffled announcement of its arrival at Coney Island. The throngs of people made their way out and you and Bucky waited until the majorly had cleared before departing yourselves. You were two steps ahead of Bucky, making way towards the stairs when you realized he wasn’t behind you. You turned and watched as Bucky took a deep inhalation of the air, thick with the smell of sugary sweet, fried confections mixed with saltwater.
Bucky opened his eyes and met yours. “Just thinking about the last time I was here,” he shouted over the roar of an incoming train.
“Come on,” you shouted as you walked back and reached for him. “We’re going to have a great time,” you continued as you playfully pulled him forward.
Your day date with Bucky also became a history lesson as he pointed out dramatic changes over the years from fires, rebuilds, and new parks that opened and closed over the years.
The day flew by as the two of you played various arcade games (no surprise Bucky won you the biggest teddy bear there was), ate obscene amounts of funnel cake and cotton candy, and rode the Cyclone too many times to count. You doubled over in laughter as Bucky recounted how Steve puked after riding the Cyclone.
“He still never lets me forget it,” Bucky chuckled.
After, it was time to hit the beach. Coney Island offered three miles of sand, sun, and rolling waves.
You slipped off your shorts first, revealing your suit bottoms. Bucky’s mouth actually dropped ever so slightly as you pulled your t-shirt over your head. You wore a red checked halter one piece that made you look as if you strutted out of the 1940s itself and not the 21st century.
“Do you like it?” you asked, almost shyly, giving him a small twirl.
Bucky nodded, rubbing his bearded jaw. “You look phenomenal.”
You lean up and forward, kissing him, your nose bumping against his slightly. Bucky holds you close with his non-vibranium arm. His lips are plush and soft against yours. He kisses you back, sliding his tongue into your mouth.
The sound of a sharp whistle interrupts the kiss and you duck your head into Bucky’s neck, feeling your cheeks heat assuming you both caught the attention of some onlookers. Bucky whipped his head towards the sound - it was a lifeguard telling some swimmers to come in.
Eventually the sun began to settle into the horizon, making way for a cooler evening. Still, the atmosphere was lively and just as crowded as it was earlier.
The final ride was the Wonder Wheel, a behemoth of a Ferris wheel. Bucky’s hand landed on your thigh and he traced small concentric circles on your bare skin. The action caused you to shiver, a jolt of heat shooting to your core. The ride jolted slightly and Bucky explained how it was just the ride pausing to let others on. The wind blew slightly and you shivered.
“C’mere, let me hold you,”Bucky replied.
You snuggled close up to Bucky, taking the expansive view of the entire park and ocean.
The park eventually closed for the night and the last of the visitors left. You and Bucky were such a pair and you held his hand as you both made your way out.
“Thanks for the best day,” you remarked. You turned back towards the park, an almost wistful look on your face. Bucky turned to face you and he captured your lips in a small kiss.
“You know, it doesn’t need to end.”
You looked at Bucky curiously. “What do you mean?”
Bucky jutted his head towards the direction of the beach. “Want to go on a late night stroll?”
You squint at him. “What are you up to?”
Bucky glances down at you. “Can't I just wanna spend some time with my favorite girl before the night is over?”
"Usually you have ulterior motives, James."
Bucky glowered at you before signing in defeat. "I - Fair."
The moon was bright in the night sky and the waves crashed along the shore. Bucky made a mad dash to the water, the sand squishing beneath his feet. He ran in until he was waist deep.
“Get in, the water is amazing!”
“I’m not getting in!” you called out in return.
Approaching you, Bucky grabbed you and spun you into the water, which resulted in you letting out a shriek. He let out a laugh before he set you down. You playfully shoved him away. You then jumped into his arms, him grabbing and holding you by your thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.
Eventually you both made it back to the sand. You sat in between Bucky’s legs, your back to his chest.
“This is nice,” you murmur. When you move your head to glance back at him, Bucky adjusted your position so that you were on his lap.
Bucky’s gaze fell to your lips and within a second his lips were pressed against yours. His fingers curled around your waist, the tips of his fingers rubbing tiny concentric circles against your skin as he pulled you closer.
Your fingers gripped a fistful of his dark, wet, hair – tugging sharply on it as you kissed him back. Bucky kissed you hard enough to leave your lips bruised tomorrow. As he licked hotly into your mouth, you tasted the salt from the ocean water.
Bucky gently pushed you downwards so you were laying down on the sand. He used his knee to nudge your legs apart as he covered your body with his.
He got your top off first, followed by your top off. You grasped his head between your hands, steered his mouth towards your tits. He latched his mouth on your nipple, already hard from the wet swimsuit. Bucky grazed his teeth along your sensitive buds before laving them with his tongue.
You clung to Bucky, desperate. He noted how your legs wrapped around his hips, how your hands felt on him, running over his shoulders and back.
Bucky kissed down between your breasts and down the length of your body. You spread your legs a bit when he got to the apex of your thighs. Your skin was cool and clammy under the ocean breeze. But it wasn’t that at all that was causing you to tremble.
He pulled your bottoms off, sodden with salt water. His hand found your pussy and he cupped it, feeling the heat and slickness of your desire. His cock was achingly hard, pressed against the damp material of his swim trunks. He spread your legs apart and settled between.
Bucky’s breath was hot on your pussy and he inhaled your sweet, musky scent before diving into your folds. His tongue was warm and wet; you threw your head back as he licked a broad stripe along your folds from top to bottom before returning to settle on your clit. His tongue was firm, using the tip to flick against it. The roar of the ocean drowned out the sounds of your gasps and moans. The coarse sand on your ass was irritating to your skin but you paid no mind to it as pleasure coursed your body.
Bucky took to task on your pussy, working you with a combination of his fingers and tongue. He pushed the warm, wet muscle inside and you arched your back in response.
“Someone is going to catch us,” you choked out, feeling your orgasm begin to crest.
“No one is going to sweetheart. It’s dark and we’re under the pier,” Bucky murmured before delving back to your pussy. The feel of his beard on your sensitive skin only ramped up the pleasure you were feeling. Your hand found its way to the top of his head and you gripped his hair tightly. “Just like that - oh fuck, yes Buck, just like that!”
And then you’re coming - white hot and electric, your body tightening and then snapping in release. Sound went fuzzy and you squeezed your eyes tightly. Bucky continued to languidly eat you out as your orgasm rode out.
You watched with half lidded eyes as Bucky stood above you, pushing down his own swim trunks, revealing his aching, weeping cock. You bit your lip and beckoned him with a crook of your finger.
Bucky dropped to his knees and gave his cock a pump before covering your body. You felt his cock at your entrance, the fat blunt head ready. He rubbed his cock along your slit, gathering your wetness. You were hot, wet, and ready.
Bucky smirked and then acquiesced to your request.
Bucky pushed the head of his cock inside you and then pushed into you agonizingly slowly. You whimpered as he finally sank his length into you, bottoming out. Your eyes fluttered close as you adjusted to his size, a mix of pleasure and slight burn as he stretched you. You grasped at his back, your nails pressing half-moon marks into his skin. Bucky pulled out again and then thrust back in, harder than before. You let out an obscene moan in response.
Bucky picked up the pace, pushing into you over and over. He hooked your leg and pushed it up to your chest, changing the angle as his cock stroked your walls. “You feel so tight around my cock, sweetheart.” He grunted.
“Give it to me, give it to me, I need it.” You whined. Bucky reached for your arm with his vibranium one and pulled it over your head, gripping it tightly.
Bucky lowered his head down, pressing his forehead against yours. Your bodies are slick with sweat and beads of sweat roll off Bucky onto yours.
Bucky continued fucking you deeply, sliding into you over and over in deep, long strokes. As he felt his own release approach, Bucky moved his lips to your neck and sucked a mark onto your skin. You chant his name - his real name - over and over again, feeling your own orgasm approach. You snake your hand down and begin to rub your clit.
“I’m going to come, oh shit, oh shit, James!” You come completely undone, wailing his name.
“Come for Y/N, come for me. I’m going to come too!” Bucky groaned. Feeling your walls flutter around his cock, seeing your wrecked face - it was all too much for Bucky and with a strangled cry of your name, he stiffened and painted your walls with his release.
The two of you come to a still, your breaths both uneven. Neither one of you spoke for a bit —the only sound was rough-breathing and the roars of the ocean crashing.
Water began to lap at you and Bucky and you both realized the tide was coming in. You both redress quickly and the walk back to the subway is punctuated with playful kisses and touches.
As the subway approached, you looked over at Bucky. “Couldn’t have been a better day.”
Bucky pulled you into his chest and hummed. “Anything for my girl.”
You Are In Love -- Oneshot
[Bucky Barnes x Reader]
Summary:You can hear it in the silence. You can feel it on the way home. You can see it with the lights out, you are in love.
Notes: this is just a widdle something based off of Taylor Swift's 'You Are In Love' which made me cry when I first heard it rip. thank you to @xbuchananbarnes for encouraging me on this one a few months back, and for putting up with me when I left it off with angst in the sneak peek<3
Warnings: allusions to sexy times, mentions of affairs and infidelity, but mostly just pure fluff <3
Your phone rings at 11:47pm.
You’re surprised enough that you just stare blankly at the incoming call for a couple of seconds, your thumb still raised over your screen in preparation to continue scrolling down your endless newsfeed. When you snap back to reality, you practically jump to answer it, the entire world suddenly going silent and all you can hear is the faint crackle down the line and the voice of someone you’ve been missing dearly.
“Hey,” Bucky’s voice is cool and warm, and after three days of no contact, very welcome.
“Hey!” you try not to sound so excited, but you fail miserably. Bucky’s smile is audible.
“I’m– I’m outside,” he tells you, sounding uncertain for a moment.
You’re out of your bed in seconds, all but leaping toward your window, pulling aside the curtains ever so slightly so you can peek down at the sidewalk below. Sure enough, you spy Bucky standing under the streetlight, phone raised to his ear. As if sensing your gaze, he glances up in the direction of your apartment, at even at this distance you can make out dark splotches on his face.
“Come down?” he asks, voice soft. You’re already tugging on your jeans as you tell him not to move.
When you finally meet him on the sidewalk, heart in your throat, you pause to take him in for a moment. His face was marked up with some minor cuts and bruises, but he stood straight and didn’t appear to be in any outward pain.
Bucky waits for you to assess him knowingly, but doesn’t move even as you close the distance between you. You hesitate on whether or not to hug him, or take his hands, anxiety growing within you by the second.
“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” you breathe at last, again looking him over. Bucky’s brows knit together, and he blinks down at you.
“I’m fine,” he says, leaning back slightly as he looks you over, seemingly realising for the first time the height of your worry.
“I’m fine, I promise,” he repeats, pulling his hands from his pockets to rest gently on your shoulders. You pause for a moment and frown.
“I thought– I thought something was wrong, you never call this late,” you admit, still eyeing him, searching his face for any of his tells.
Bucky stares down at you, his hands dropping from your shoulders and you see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. He looks away from you before shifting on his feet and returning eye-contact.
“I just wanted to see you,” he says, voice quiet and unsure. His gaze trails up to your apartment window once more.
“I saw your light was on,”
You stare up at him, trying to hide your bewilderment, and hoping to god he can’t hear the way your heartbeat doubles.
“You just wanted to see me?” you repeat. Bucky nods once, and then twice, his chest expanding as he takes in a deep breath.
“Sorry,” his eyes turn down then, but you notice the way they shoot back to you seconds later, gauging your response. It takes you longer than you’d like to reply, still struck by the sentiment, and the fact that despite his apology, he hadn’t moved a muscle to leave or backtrack.
He just wanted to see you.
“No,” you breathe out, shaking your head quickly.
“No, I’ve wanted to see you too,”
Bucky searches your expression thoroughly, but his lips tick up in the corners and he lifts his chin slightly when he cocks his head.
“Do you want to get coffee?”
You can’t stop looking.
Bucky Barnes isn’t someone who fades easily into the background. You’re sure that even if people didn’t recognise him he’d still draw looks.
The brightest point of any room.
Even now, his substantial size draped in unassuming jeans and a plain black t-shirt, he looks just slightly out of place crammed into the tiny diner booth, shoulders hunched and hands clasped together. You’d seen him pause hesitantly before he’d decided to remove his gloves earlier, and you tried not to focus too much on the long lines of his fingers as they occasionally fiddled.
Under the table your knees knock together with the slightest of movements, however unlike your first date, instead of espousing numerous apologies, the only thing that leaves his mouth now at the contact is the occasional soft chuckle. After your first cup of coffee, he’d shifted in his seat so that his knee rested against your own. Every so often as you’d speak, he’d purposefully knock it gently, usually accompanied by a laugh or a roll of his eyes.
To be honest, after your first date, you hadn’t expected or intended to see him ever again. The anxious energy had rolled off of him in waves, and although you’d been speaking via the dating app you’d matched on for a few days prior, you could tell he was uncomfortable meeting in person. You’d thought him nice, but disinterested, and you’d left the encounter texting your friend about the unsuccessful meeting.
It makes you laugh now thinking about it, the chuckle slipping past your lips as you place your third cup of coffee for the night back on the napkin in front of you. Bucky cocks his head almost imperceptibly, and his knee bumps yours.
“What?” he asks, lips already curling into a smile at the corners.
“I was just thinking about our first date,” you tell him with a shake of your head. Bucky scrunches his nose in good natured distaste, his brow furrowing deeply.
“Of all the things I could choose to not remember…” he says, sounding very serious. You knock his leg this time, making a ‘tsk’ sound, but your grin matches his own.
“Didn’t think I was that bad,” you tease, and he rolls his eyes, this time unclasping his hands to tap the back of your hand with his.
“You weren’t,” he says pointedly, but his gaze drifts off to the side, and he leans back in his seat a little.
You know him well enough now to know when he wasn’t done talking, so you wait in patient silence for him to continue. When his eyes return to you it makes your pulse quicken for a moment, reminded once again of his sheer beauty and just how lucky you were.
“To be honest, I didn’t realise how much I’d sucked until you told me,” he hums, and you fight the urge to argue that you hadn’t told him he’d sucked, you’d just made clear that you had thought he’d been uninterested in you upon meeting in person.
“At the time I–” Bucky stops again, lips closing with a snap as his brow furrows once again.
“Buck, you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I know,” you remind him with a comforting smile, because this really wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation. He only shakes his head though, leaning forward again, this time his hand reaching out as if to grab your own, but he stops short, resting it on the table instead, still outstretched toward your own, fingers almost touching.
“It’s hard to forget who I am, what I’ve done…” he speaks quietly, eyes turned towards your almost-touching hands on the table between you.
“But that day was the first time in a long time,” he struggles to hold your eye-contact for a moment before finally committing.
You know words weren’t exactly his strong suit, not like this anyway, and you can tell by his phrasing that this was something that had been on his mind for a while, maybe even something he’d practised beforehand.
He’d never told you this part of his side to the story of your first meeting, and it makes your heart stir wildly in your chest. You knew his struggle to find penitence and forgiveness, both outwardly and inwardly, and to think you could grant him even a sliver of that…
Without much thought, you close the gap between your hands, curling your fingers around his own and squeezing gently, ignoring the brief flash of surprise that flits across his face.
“Then I don’t care how bad I thought it tanked. It’s a good date in my books from now on,” you affirm, your feelings around the meet-up forever altered. Bucky stares at you for several long seconds, but he eventually gives you a small smile, squeezing your hand quickly before he pulls away to take a sip from his mug.
You do the same, sitting in comfortable silence, listening to the soft sounds of the radio on the counter behind you, and the occasional ring of the doorbell when a customer enters or leaves.
“Thank you, for coming with me tonight, I mean,” Bucky starts then, and you see his gaze flicker to the watch on his wrist. Your smile widens and you shrug, thumb wiping at the faded lipstick marks around the brim of your cup.
“Always,” you say, meaning it, but feeling your face go warm at the insinuations
Bucky stares at you, like he often does, and you stare back. The bruising around his cheek and eye had already faded considerably, the cut he sported on his jaw looking a few days old even though when you’d met him outside your building a few hours ago it had still been bleeding a little.
Your Thursday night had been slow and boring, and even though you’d committed to going to bed, you’d lain awake for hours, subconsciously waiting on a response from the man in front of you now.
He’d told you back on Monday that he’d be away for a few days, something that usually put a pause on your daily texting and made you dread a return to your pre-Bucky work days, where you knew not to expect any surprise visits or lunch invitations.
More than that, though, you always felt a little on edge when he’d go away on missions. You hadn’t yet had the ‘relationship’ discussion, and you’re sure that you probably shouldn’t be so invested after only five formal dates, but you couldn’t help it. Until Bucky confirmed he was home safe again, you felt in limbo.
“I wanted to see you,” he tells you again, making you feel like the luckiest woman in just five words. His gaze turns shy then, and he shrugs, scrunching up his nose as he tips his head to the side, cracking the stiffness in his neck.
You don’t know how to respond, your tongue feeling leadden in your mouth, and even if it wasn’t, you don’t know if you could even reply in a way that would properly communicate just how much you wanted to see him too, all of the time.
Instead, you slide out of your side of the booth, knocking against his knees as you do so. Bucky watches you, brow furrowing slightly until he sees you only go so far as his side of the table, and then he’s hurriedly scooting as far as he can down the small bench, allowing you to slip in beside him.
After a moment of awkward shuffling, he seems to relax, moreso when you pull at his sleeve, indicating that he move it, allowing you to sink even further into his side as his arm hesitantly comes to rest over your shoulders. He takes a moment to fully relax, but eventually he curls in toward you, tucking you even further against his chest.
Light reflects off of the chain you glimpse around his neck, the shape of his dog tags resting against his sternum visible under his shirt.
For a moment you consider raising your hand to lay over them, but you stop yourself, settling for just staring.
You feel his lips graze your temple, and when he hums you can feel it rumble through his chest.
“Jus’ wanted to see you.”
It’s several weeks later when you’re woken by the sun, an odd occurrence in itself considering that your apartment faced west. You roll over to your other side, attempting to tug your duvet higher, discovering only a thin sheet in its place. You wake further and peek an eye open to search for your missing blanket, freezing for a moment when you don’t recognise the bedroom around you.
The night comes back to you in flashes, a nervous kind of excitement settling in your gut as the memory of Bucky’s mouth pressed softly, then fervently, against yours fills your sleep-addled brain.
You twist to lay on your back, your heart beating a little faster thinking of the way he’d asked you to stay, of the way he’d touched you, the doubt disappearing from his hold and replaced with certainty and need. You turn your head to your left, to where he’d fallen beside you in the early hours, finding it empty.
The sunlight catches something on his bedside table, and curiously you reach out, plucking the silver chain from its spot. The dog tags spin and twist as you dangle them, and you frown softly at their presence without the man they were usually attached to.
You thumb the punched letters carefully, reading each word and memorising them.
A sound from beyond the bedroom door makes you draw the tags close, and you wait, listening for a few seconds before you relax again.
It takes you a few minutes to rouse properly, collecting your underwear and the shirt Bucky had been wearing the night prior, putting both on before you venture out.
You find Bucky in his kitchen, sweatpants hanging loosely from his hips as he stands over his counter, and you’re immediately greeted by the strong scent of something burnt. If he hears you coming, he doesn’t let on as you pad up behind him, moving to your tip-toes so you can carefully hang his chain back around his neck.
He turns his head then, unable to see you with the way you wrap yourself around him from behind when you’re finished with the necklace, but the hand that covers yours resting over his stomach makes up for it.
“Did I wake you?” he asks, disappointment lacing his voice. You shake your head even though he can’t see it, but let go of him a moment later, allowing him to turn into you, his arms falling around you, hands settling at your lower back.
“I was trying to make you breakfast…” he admits bashfully, gesturing behind him to the toaster currently sprouting two very burnt pieces of toast. You can’t help but laugh, covering your mouth with your hand as Bucky tries and fails to look annoyed at you.
“I forgot to check the setting,” he chuckles after a moment.
“It’s okay, Buck, you don’t have to cook me breakfast,” you tell him dreamily, already more than smitten. Bucky frowns at you, his hold on you tightening a little as he ducks his head lower.
“Course I do. You said no ones ever made you breakfast before,” he says. It takes you a moment to remember when exactly you’d told him that, the answer being several weeks ago, an offhand comment you’d made about ‘morning afters’.
You’re honestly surprised he remembers it, a sudden heavy feeling hitting you square in the gut and taking you completely off guard so early in the morning, over something so simple as breakfast.
“You remember that?” you ask, laughing nervously to try and hide the way your throat was getting tighter and your eyes stung. Soft lips press gently against your cheek, lingering there as he speaks again.
“I try to remember everything you tell me,” he says earnestly. You swallow thickly, and have to wipe your other cheek with the back of your hand. He pulls back then, frown even deeper on his features now, mixed with no small amount of panic as he takes in your wet eyes.
“What’s wrong? What did I say?” he asks quickly, his eyes wide and searching, and you have to laugh.
“Nothing. It’s nothing, I promise,” you assure him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and burying your face there. Bucky cautiously returns your embrace, but you can tell he’s still unsure.
“Thank you for breakfast,” you pull back enough to kiss him properly, grateful when he responds immediately.
You happily allow him to relegate you to sitting at the kitchen bar while he reattempts breakfast, and when he’s done and you’re both finished, you aren’t sure how to tell him that for the first time in your life you felt full, so you kiss him again until you think your heart might explode.
The next time Bucky makes you cry, the feeling in your chest isn’t sweet or sentimental. It’s tight, and painful, and you’re so unbelievably hurt that you tell him to get out of your apartment. You’re even more hurt when he actually does, slamming your door hard enough to make the frame rattle your walls.
An hour, maybe two, pass before you get a hold of yourself, and you’re so embarrassed over your part of the fight that you consider packing up all your things and moving continents. Bucky doesn’t give you the chance though, your door rattling again some time later with light, remorseful knocking.
You’re honestly surprised to see him standing there, eyes turned down, but face set in something akin to determination as he asks to be allowed back inside, to talk properly. You let him, of course, repentant in your own way as you follow him through to your living space, where he sits himself down and places his two phones on the coffee table in front of you, worrying with his gloved hands in his lap.
“My therapist, sometimes she… she asks to see my phone. I don’t always want her… sticking her nose in, and I… I’m sorry. It’s not a-- I don’t have anything to hide, I just-- I don’t know why I got angry,” Bucky tells you softly when you’ve finally taken a seat beside him. You mind flashes with glimpses of earlier, of the both of you raising your voices, arguing over something that seems so stupid now.
“You can look through them. I don’t have anything to hide, not from you,” he repeats, this time looking at you, his eyes large and a little red. You feel your own sting with oncoming tears, but you blink them back, and shake your head.
“No, I know you don’t, I’m-- I’m sorry I got so angry…” you sigh, chewing on your lip as you try to figure out how to say what you needed to. Bucky stays quiet in that knowing way of his, letting you think until you’re ready.
“My dad had an affair… we found out when I was in high school. I never really thought much of him having- having multiple phones until after it all came out and I-- I don’t know, I just…” You swallow thickly as you try to explain further, but your thought process is cut off by Bucky nudging your arm lightly.
When you look at him, he’s got a frown set into his brow, but his eyes are wide with understanding.
“I’m sorry. I would never--”
“I know you wouldn’t… which just makes everything that happened earlier worse,” you shake your head. Really, he had nothing to apologise for.
“I just saw red,” you tell him, ashamed, eyes now locked onto the phones sitting in front of you.
The warmth of a hand engulfing yours makes you look up.
“I’m still sorry. I shouldn’t have started yelling too,” Bucky says, gently tugging your hand into his lap where he gives it a squeeze.
“And I shouldn’t have left like that either,”
You nod at him, unable to fathom how lucky you were, how different this situation had gone compared to anything in your prior relationships. For the first time you feel as though you were with someone who cared more about you than whatever stupid thing you’d been fighting about in the first place.
You let him pull you closer, and wrap your arms around his neck, as all at once the anger and hurt from the evening is washed out of the room.
Rain beats heavily against the windows of Bucky’s apartment, a soothing constant that had been going on all day, and seemed to have no mind of stopping any time soon. You were fine with that though, there were worse things than being cooped up with your recently returned boyfriend.
The man in question lays on his tummy next to you in his bed, one arm hooked under his pillow, the other resting just by your hip. He’d dozed off in the early evening, and frankly you commended him for making it that long. It was rare for Bucky to fall asleep without you, or sometimes at all, so you’d basked in the opportunity to sit beside him and read, pausing each time he shuffled about to gaze adoringly at his peaceful little face.
But it was late now, and after the fourth try at reading and comprehending the same sentence, you close your novel with a yawn and place it on your bedside. The rain outside seems to pick up again, as if further encouraging you to sleep, and after switching your lamp off, you shuffle deeper under the covers and tuck yourself in.
Bucky stirs as you make yourself comfortable, rolling onto his side and welcoming you into his embrace. It makes you wonder how deeply he’d really been sleeping, or if he was just that in tune with you.
In the now completely darkened room, you take a moment to get comfortable, pausing when you feel Bucky begin to stir again, this time with a deep but satisfied groan. Your heart skips with guilt when in the dark you spy his eyelids fluttering open, but he simply smiles softly and draws you nearer before you can speak. His forehead pushes against yours, and lazily you feel the fingers he has splayed against your back begin moving in small, slow circles.
His eyes continue to fit between opening or returning back to sleep, and even though his lips smile, you see the pull between his brows.
“What is it?” you can’t help but whisper, receiving a chaste kiss to your cheek as Bucky shuffles one last time, rolling to his back now, but pulling you with him, letting you lay across his side tucked in just how you like.
His hand on your back pauses for a few seconds, but resumes again, accompanied by another kiss, this time to your hairline.
“You’re my best friend, you know that?” his voice rumbles in his chest and throat, sleep-filled, but no-less genuine. The words make you swallow thickly, eyes welling up, but you squeeze them shut and squeeze him a little tighter, burying your face in his neck as he lets out a contented hum.
“You’re my best friend too,” you whisper back softly.
If Bucky replies again, you don’t hear him, instead lulled quickly to sleep by his steady breaths, his warmth, and the downpour outside.
Metamorphosis | Bucky Barnes x Reader
H, friends! I was working on this fic and then got a message from @the-kestrels-feather asking for almost this exact story??? Tbh our brains are linked. They requested a non-binary reader, which I’ve never written before! So I’m a little nervous, but I did my best. :)
If you like my writing do me a favor and throw me a reblog 🥰
Bucky’s head lay heavy on your chest, his mind finally quieting enough to let him fall asleep. His calm, rhythmic breathing brought a smile to your face as you gently tangled your fingers through his long locks. Knowing Bucky was getting the rest he needed always made you happier, made you worry just a little bit less.
The close friendship you’d developed with him was unexpected to say the least. You thought back on how everyone warned you about Bucky when you when you joined the team and moved into the compound. They said he was quiet, cold, aloof- and you’d prepared for him to ignore you completely. But he surprised you.
Things between the two of you started cautiously. You treated Bucky like a skittish stray cat, waiting for him to come to you at his own pace- and if he never came around, you’d understand.
But when he found you in the compound’s kitchen baking cookies in the middle of the night, he couldn’t stop himself from being drawn in by your gentleness.
-----One Year Ago-----
Bucky’s deep voice startled you, forcing your heartrate into overdrive. He noticed the way you jumped and the wide eyes that betrayed your fear. He wasn’t sure if you simply didn’t expect company at 3am, or if you were afraid of who he used to be.
“Oh, sorry. I- I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just…” Bucky made his way to the cupboard and retrieved his favorite tea, “want a cup?”
With a simple nod, you accepted Bucky’s offer.
“I know this probably looks strange”, you motioned to the massive bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough resting on the counter and the mess that surrounded it, “but I’m not like, a weirdo or anything. I don’t always make cookies in the middle of the night”. Bucky gave you a simple nod, unsure of what to say.
“It’s just- I bake when I’m stressed. And I’m not used to living here yet…I kinda feel like a fish out of water, you know?” Bucky was all too familiar with the feeling of not fitting in, and still felt like an outsider after years of working with the team. “My anxiety won’t let me fall asleep, so...here I am,” you grabbed a fresh cookie from the cooling rack and extended it to Bucky, “wanna try one?”
He eyed the treat for a long moment before finally accepting. A smile instantly spread across his face as he chewed, and he couldn’t stop himself from shoving the rest of the cookie in his mouth. “These are really good”, he said with his mouth full, “thank you”.
Without hesitation, you grabbed the cooling rack and extended it to him, “have as many as you want, Sergeant Barnes. Er, James…? Bucky?” Embarrassment colored your cheeks a bright scarlet, “I’m sorry- I just realized that we haven’t spoken yet. I don’t know what to call you…”
Bucky let loose quiet laugh, “it’s alright. Um, Bucky. Bucky is fine”.
He extended his vibranium hand to give you a proper shake, but quickly withdrew and replaced it with his other one. An apologetic look filled his eyes and he looked away, embarrassed. He couldn't believe he'd slipped up so severely, offering you the one thing about him that scared almost everyone he knew.
Just then, the tea kettle began to sing, making both of you jump. Bucky quickly removed it from the heat and prepared his tea and yours, offering you the cup with a cautious smile.
An overwhelming need to remain in your presence tugged at him, but his trusty anxiety wanted nothing more than to make him scurry upstairs and hide from you. He opened his mouth to wish you goodnight before heading back to his room, but you didn’t give him the chance.
“Hey, wanna help me finish with these?” you offered him a cookie scoop and raised a brow at him, “it’ll be fun, I promise. And you can eat all the dough you want. Deal?”
He couldn’t believe how genuinely happy he was, how comfortable you made him feel. Spending this beautifully innocent moment together helped Bucky forget the night terror that had woken him not half an hour ago. And suddenly, he found himself opening up to you. It was only the tiny things- his birthday, where he grew up, his favorite book- but it was more than he’d told anyone in decades.
After that night, you and Bucky slowly became inseparable. Something about you felt safe to him, felt like home. He was warmer around you, his sharp scowl melting into a tentative smile. He didn’t know how to describe it, but Bucky felt drawn to you. There was something about your warm smile and kind eyes that welcomed him in immediately, and he found himself desperate to spend time with you. He wanted to see with you whenever possible, and you returned the feeling tenfold.
Bucky had a quiet energy that set you at ease. While the world saw him as the cold, ruthless killer who’d carried out countless murders as the Winter Soldier, you saw him as the sweet, shy man who helped you make cookies at 3am. Bucky made you feel heard, made you feel seen. He quietly observed, picking up on tiny details that others would’ve missed. In seemingly no time at all, he’d identified all of your nervous habits, and knew exactly when to ask if you were okay.
And after Bucky knew for certain that he was safe with you, he opened up. He unlocked the vault in his mind that held every gory, gruesome detail of his time at Hydra and let you rifle through his memories. But you never pushed him. The two of you talked through his decades as the Winter Soldier at his pace, and when it grew to be too much, you were there to bring him back to the present. You had a way of grounding Bucky that made him feel more present than he had in years, saving him from the spirals and rabbit holes that often held him hostage.
It became glaringly obvious to you that Bucky had been suffering in silence ever since joining the team, opting to keep his pain to himself rather than trust someone with his secrets. But things were different with you. He couldn’t believe how easy it was to trust you, to let his guard down and be completely and utterly vulnerable.
After you took his hand the first time, Bucky realized just what he’d been missing out on. He hadn’t been aware of how desperately he needed human touch, how safe the affection of another person could make him feel.
It was this physical comfort that saved him from his nightmares night after night, bringing him peace he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. Before getting close with you, Bucky dealt with them alone. He’d eventually scream himself awake, his heart pounding in his chest while cold sweat dripped from his brow. You’d heard him every night since moving in, but only when you knew he felt safe enough with you did venture into his room.
-----Nine Months Ago-----
As they did every night, Bucky's tortured screams startled you awake. All you knew was that he needed help, and you weren’t going to let him go without it. Reflexively, you ran from your room and burst through his door, anxious to rescue Bucky from his demons.
His strong form thrashed beneath his sheets, cold sweat dampening his forehead. His screams were full of a tortured anguish you’d never experienced before, and the sound of his cries sent shivers down your spine. With a quick flip of a switch, you turned on the lamp by Bucky’s bedside, filling the room with a soft glow. Your gentle hands rested against his shoulders, adding only a tiny fraction of pressure as you called out to him.
“Bucky. Bucky, hey. Wake up. You’re okay-”.
Suddenly, Bucky’s eyes flew open. They were glassy with tears and wide with fear as he stared at you, unbridled alarm still coursing through his veins. His chest rose and fell at an increasingly fast rate, and he did his best to orient himself, but couldn’t seem to get his head on straight.
“Buck…” you reached for his hand slowly and took it in yours, grounding him in the present moment, “you’re okay- it’s me. You’re safe. It was just a nightmare.”
With that, Bucky slowly let his muscles relax. He stared down at his hand resting in yours, relishing in the sensation of your warmth. Just like that, he felt safe. He leaned forward until his forehead rested upon your shoulder, mumbling a quiet “thank you” as he tried to catch his breath.
“Want me to stay with you a while?”
Bucky nodded almost immediately.
“Then I’ll stay,” you gave his hand a squeeze, “I’ll sit here for as long as you need”.
But Bucky didn’t want you to just sit at his bedside. “Do you, uh…” he lifted the covers and invited you into his bed- something he hadn’t done since the 40’s. “Would it be better for you to lay down? It’s the middle of the night…I’m sure you’re tired”. You gave him a pointed look, silently asking if he was sure, and he delivered a confident nod.
With you under the sheets next to him, Bucky felt like he was home. But his demons still clawed at the corners of his mind, chipping away at the sense of peace you brought him. They thrashed and screamed behind the protective walls your presence built, desperate to break free and tear Bucky to shreds.
He wanted to ask you to hold him, to wrap your arms around him and keep him safe, but he never wanted to make you uncomfortable. He opted to simply hold your hand, squeezing it every few seconds to bring himself back to the present.
“Do you- Is there anything else I can do?” you looked over at Bucky and clocked his tense jaw, “If you just need a hand to hold, I’m more than happy to help. But…do you need, like, a hug? Do you want me to- to maybe hold you for a while? Or is that too much for you?” Relief flooded Bucky’s expression as you read his mind, “it’s not too much. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
With your arms spread wide, you welcomed Bucky into your embrace. His head lay nestled against your neck while your arms wrapped tightly around his broad shoulders, protecting him from the outside world. An almost imperceptible shaking rattled his entire body, the adrenaline still ravaging him from the inside. The shaking stopped, however, when your gentle words and soft touch guided Bucky back to a restful sleep.
And so began the nightly routine. Every night you’d fall asleep in your room, only to be woken by Bucky’s screams. And just like that, you’d rush to his side and provide him with the comfort and safety he needed. The two of you would always fall asleep together after that, waking every morning tangled in each other’s embrace. You did your best to convince yourself that, if you went to bed in your room first, sleeping in Bucky’s bed for the second half of the night was completely innocent. But not even you believed that lie.
The two of you held great affection for each other, and no one had ever made you feel the way Bucky did- but you couldn’t tell him that. He was always overly grateful for everything you did for him, but he had no idea what he did for you every day. He was so kind, so empathetic, so understanding. He just wanted to be there for you, to make you smile when you were down. Bucky knew exactly how to make you laugh. And when you needed a shoulder to cry on, he was there. His arms felt like home, like nothing could hurt you if he was holding you. He knew everything about you and accepted you for exactly who you were, just as you did for him.
But Bucky had a hard time understanding how you could actually be okay with his scars, both mental and physical. And so he opted to keep the physical scars under wraps. He never let you see the damage Hydra did to his body, never let you get even a glimpse of his abused form.
The first time you laid eyes on the reminders of his past, it was completely by accident. Bucky kicked himself for not being careful enough, not shielding you from his ‘disgusting’ deformations- but it only brough the two of you closer.
-----Six Months Ago-----
With your duffel bag slung over your shoulder, you stepped inside the quinjet and thanked the universe that your mission was finally over. But just as you entered the cabin, Bucky’s deep blue eyes met yours in a look of terror. He stood a few feet away, almost hidden in the back of the jet, his top half completely bare. His insecurities screamed at him, begged him to put his tactical vest back on and obscure the gruesome evidence of his past- but he couldn’t move.
He was completely and utterly frozen with shame, his scars on full display.
To Bucky, they were hideous. The raised, uneven skin that told the story of his time at Hydra disgusted him more each day. Evidence of bullet wounds and knives taken to the torso littered his upper half, illustrating just how hard his life was as the Winter Solider. Bucky’s eyes flicked down momentarily, eyeing the biggest scar of the bunch. It ran the entire expanse of his shoulder, tightly hugging the seam of his vibranium arm.
It was gnarly and jagged, knotted and deep.
Bucky watched you and waited for you to react with horror- maybe even gag- but you remained silent. Your eyes flicked slowly over his abdomen as you took in each and every mark that made Bucky who he was. And when your gaze finally landed on the long scar that fused flesh to metal, he cringed.
With cautious steps, you closed the gap between the two of you. Tension buzzed in the air as Bucky’s stomach tied itself in knots, and he was certain the anxiety of it all would make him throw up. He knew you were kind and understanding, but the proof of his Hydra days was enough to make even the nicest person uncomfortable. It was almost too easy for Bucky to convince himself that the mere sight of his scars would leave your friendship dead in the water, but he was wrong.
You cautiously reached out a hand in the direction of his chest, stopping a few inches from the surface of his skin. Bucky wanted to say no, to reject your gesture- but the deep seeded need for comfort won his internal debate. He needed the gentle touch, the warmth of your hand, the peace brought on by physical connection with someone he cared about.
Unable to speak, Bucky nodded.
The pads of your fingers met his skin lightly at first, eliciting a quiet gasp from his chest. The sound filled you with regret and you almost moved your hand away completely, fearing you’d taken things a step too far.
But Bucky didn’t want you to stop.
He couldn’t believe how good it felt, allowing someone to gently touch the abused parts of himself. He’d known only excessive force for decades, and never imagined he’d experience gentleness again. But the way your hand gently ghosted along his skin gave him goosebumps. Your very touch left warmth in its wake and broke down the thick wall Bucky had built to protect himself. A deep, primal sigh of relief left his lips as you added your other hand into the mix, allowing it to gently lay against his largest scar.
“Were you nervous about me seeing these?” you stared up into his eyes, recognizing the fraction of worry that remained in his expression.
Once, more Bucky gave you a nod.
“I know you’re a good person- I know that you wouldn’t judge me. But I just- I really don’t want you to see me differently”. He let out a huff as he stared down at his marred chest, “I know they’re…unpleasant to look at. They’re pretty disgusting. And I thought that if you saw them, you’d be scared. I was afraid you’d put distance between us- I don’t want that”.
One hand left Bucky’s chest and moved up to his face, resting gently against his cheek. He leaned into the gesture almost immediately, desperate for as much physical contact as possible.
“They’re not disgusting, Buck. They’re you. Everything about you- even the stuff you don’t like- makes you who you are”. Bucky’s eyes flicked toward the floor. “I don’t want you feeling like you have to hide part of yourself,” you let one finger drag lazily between a few smaller marks near his clavicle, “we should play connect the dots with them. Who knows- maybe they form something cool? Like a velociraptor. Or a pretzel”.
Bucky’s eyes rolled so far back in his head that you feared they’d get stuck there- but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. His arms wrapped you in a bear hug and pulled you flush against his scarred chest, enveloping you in the warmth of his embrace. Your hands snaked up his spine, taking inventory of the scars that littered his back and shoulders.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed about the scars- or anything from your past. Especially not with me. Okay?”
With you around, Bucky felt like a new man. Your presence warmed him from the inside out and made the hollow feeling that he'd plagued him for decades a thing of the past. He still flinched every now and then- out of instinct- when you raised a hand to play with his hair or rub his shoulders. Seeing him wince preemptively broke your heart every time, but the instances of fear slowly became less frequent.
He never had to wonder if he was safe with you- he knew. He trusted you not to hurt him; something he couldn’t say about anyone else. His defenses lowered a bit more each time he spent time with you, each time he felt your gentle hands raking through his hair or rubbing the length of his spine. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he didn’t feel like he had to protect himself. With you lying next to him, there was no need for hypervigilance.
You seemed to erode his defenses over time, like the ocean wearing away at a jagged cliff. Only one of his many defense mechanisms remained in place, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he felt comfortable letting it go.
-----The Months Ago-----
Bucky had worn a pained expression all day, but wouldn’t give you a clue as to the cause. He sat through his debriefing, a team meeting, and dinner with Wanda and Sam, all while doing his best to hide his discomfort. But he couldn't hide it from you. You knew him too well, too intimately, to but the manufactured facade that covered his pain like a mask.
It wasn’t until the two of you were alone in his room that he finally came clean. He dropped down onto his bed, grimacing the second his body hit the mattress.
“Buck? Can you talk to me? You’re clearly in pain- what’s going on?” You joined him on the bed cautiously, careful not to shake or jostle him in any way. His stormy blue eyes stared up at you and he did his best to prop himself up on his metal elbow- but faltered almost instantly.
“It’s my arm…” he lifted the vibranium limb ever so slightly, wincing as he did so. The look of confusion you wore would’ve made Bucky laugh- if it weren’t for the agonizing pain. “It’s not the arm itself- I mean, the arm is what’s hurting me. It rubs against my scar sometimes. It digs into the skin and puts pressure on what’s left of my joint”. He fell quiet for a moment and let his eyes drift downward until he found the courage to speak up once again.
“Is it okay if I- would you mind if I take it off?”
You cocked your head to the side, “Buck, it’s your arm. You don’t have to ask me permission-”
“No, I know. I just mean…I actually think I'd feel okay not wearing it around you, like I don’t need it. I know I don’t have to protect myself. But I don’t want to make you feel weird.”
Your fingers ran slowly through his long hair, gently scratching at his scalp like you often did. “It won’t make me feel weird- I want you to be comfortable. If not wearing it will make you feel better, then I want you to take it off.”
A small smile crept across Bucky’s face. He sat up slowly, grimacing as his metal arm dug into his scar tissue. His right hand moved upward, ready to undo the mechanisms that locked his arm in place- and then he stopped. He shot you a look, silently asking if you were sure, and your reassuring smile was all he needed.
His fingers worked nimbly to detach the arm from his body, a deep sigh of relief escaping his lips when the heavy vibranium dropped onto the bed.
The reminders of his past- his arm, his scars- brought him both physical and mental pain on a daily basis. With your help, the voice in his head that called him a monster fell almost completely silent.
When he looked in the mirror and ran his eyes over the version of himself that Hydra created, he couldn’t help but feel a little more at peace. You slowly helped him accept that he’d never be the bright-eyed kid from Brooklyn he once was, and he was okay with that. Together, the two of you found a way to help him grow comfortable with the scars that littered his body and the weapon that served as his left arm.
But something nagged at him.
He’d grown to accept his new reality, but there was one thing left over from his time at Hydra that wasn’t permanent.
Bucky awoke suddenly, his head leaving its resting place on your chest.
“Buck? Hey, is everything okay?” you stared down at him, your hand still tangled in his long locks.
His intensity alarmed you. Only seconds ago, he'd been fast asleep without a care in the world- but a deep sense of urgency now set his eyes aflame. He quickly sat up and took a deep breath, the gears in his mind turning at an unmatched speed. He had a nervous energy buzzing around him that set you on edge. But just as you opened your mouth ask yet again what was wrong, he blurted out the reason for his unrest.
“I want to cut my hair.”
Admittedly, you hadn’t expected Bucky’s hair to be the cause of his sudden outburst. He’d taken you so off guard that all you could do was stare at him and simply repeat what he’d said.
“You…want to cut your hair?”
Bucky gave you a nod. “I’ve been thinking about it, and when I look in the mirror, I don’t look like me. I look like…him. I don't recognize myself. I can deal with the arm, and you’re making me feel better about the scars. I can’t change those things about myself- I’ll always have to have a replacement for my arm, and the scars aren’t going away, regardless of the serum. But the hair…it’s not me. I don’t…”
He swallowed hard, “I don’t want to look like the Winter Soldier anymore”.
All this time, you’d been so focused on helping Bucky find peace with the permanent side effects of his time at Hydra- but you hadn’t even considered the easiest fix. His long hair was a holdover from Hydra’s neglect, a sign of how little they cared about him. At no point did they think to give him the grooming he deserved, whether he was under cryo or fully alert. You thought maybe no one could get close enough to him while armed with scissors, but if they ordered him not to kill the barber, he’d obey. But you supposed that, just maybe, letting his hair grow was better than forcibly shaving his head and erasing even more of his identity.
“Of course, Buck. Let’s…” you reached for your phone and began searching the internet for barber shops in the area, “I’ll make you an appointment somewhere. We can-”
“I want you to do it.”
The phone slipped from your hand. Your eyes flicked up to meet Bucky’s but he didn’t crack a smile or give you a laugh- he was serious. “I’m not- I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to cut hair, Buck. I tried to give myself bangs once and the results were…disastrous”.
But Bucky didn’t care.
“Please? I trust you…" he ran a hand through his soon to be shorn locks, "I only trust you”.
And that was all the convincing you needed. It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night; only moments later, you'd gathered clippers and a pair of scissors, ready to give Bucky a makeover. He watched you in the mirror as you took inventory of his long locks. Your gentle hands moved through his hair, weaving their way in and out while you decided on a plan of attack.
“Okay. Um…” your hands slid down and rested on his shoulders, “we’re gonna- I’m gonna start with the scissors and you know, make it shorter. And then just, like, clean it up with the clippers? I guess?”
Bucky chuckled at your nervous stammering. His cold hand snaked upward to meet one of yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze as your nerves bubbled over.
“It doesn’t have to be perfect- it doesn’t even have to be good. I just want to look like me.”
“Well, you’re gonna look like you, but with a shitty haircut”.
He eyed your hand as you reached for the scissors, a familiar sense of dread filling his chest when the sharp blades caught the light. His instincts wanted him to disarm you, to rip the scissors from your hands and prevent you from coming near him with the pointed metal. But he fought against the reflex. He did his best to remain calm, but his shaky breathing caught your attention. Slowly, you replaced the scissors on the bathroom counter.
“I know you’re not gonna hurt me…it’s just a reflex”, Bucky spoke with his head down, still trying to get a handle on his anxiety, “It's just- I see someone with what could be a weapon, and the training tries to take over automatically- no matter what”.
“That’s okay. Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. We can-”
“Yes. I’m sure. Please, I trust you”.
And so began the transformation.
Armed with a pair of scissors, you slowly moved in the direction of Bucky’s long hair. His shoulders tensed and his brow furrowed as the blades got closer, and it took everything in you not to tear up.
“You’re doing great, Buck. Take a deep breath for me, okay?”
He did as you asked- just as you made the first cut. Slowly and carefully, you cut away at Bucky’s soft locks. The tension in his jaw seemed to let up ever so slightly as your familiar hands weaved their way through his hair like they had so many times before.
He kept his head down and his eyes closed, forcing himself to keep his breathing steady as the scissors carved their way through his long strands. He was doing so well, staying so calm and still for you. It was only when you heard a quiet sniffle that you put the scissors down.
“Buck? Hey, what’s going on?” you knelt at his feet, your hands resting on his knees, “talk to me. Do you regret doing this? Cause we can stop. I’ll just-”
He raised his head for the first time since your started cutting and met your eyes with his tearful stare. “I’m fine- I’m better than fine. This is…these are good tears. I’ve been thinking about this for so long. I’m just- please, would you keep going?” He flashed you a small, reassuring smile that launched you back into action.
There were a few pauses here and there for you to watch YouTube tutorials and look up tips from experts. When you finished with the scissors, a deep sigh of relief left Bucky’s chest. He leaned his head back for a moment and rested it against your body, smiling to himself as your familiar warmth set him at ease. But the loud buzzing of the clippers set him on edge once again.
Even though you’d warned him of the incoming noise, a sharp flinch pulled his muscles into hard lines as the sound vibrated inside of his skull. You quickly shut the clippers off, reinstating the peaceful quiet. But Bucky didn’t want you to stop.
“It’s okay- I’m fine. You can turn them back on…” he said with his head bowed, “I need this”.
And so you turned the clippers back on, once again filling the small room with noise. Bucky flinched ever so slightly as the sound grew closer to his head, but found all the comfort he needed in your free hand resting against his shoulder. His metal hand reached up, laying atop yours and giving it a squeeze for an extra dose of security. this jaw remained tense as the clippers worked their way up and down his scalp, but your hand resting under his was all he needed. And when you were finally finished, his new style actually looked pretty decent.
“Um, okay. I’m done. Give it a look- tell me what you think…” you waited with bated breath for Bucky to finally give his new image peek. It took him a long moment for him to gather the courage to face himself; he’d been forced into change so many times, and now that it was on his own terms, it was somehow scarier. With a deep breath, Bucky faced the mirror.
More tears welled in his eyes and cascaded down his cheeks as he took in the final product. He couldn’t believe it- he actually recognized himself. Staring back at him wasn’t a tortured killer, it was the James Buchanan Barnes he used to know. He was quiet as he stared at himself in the mirror. His gaze never wavered, almost as though he feared that if he blinked or looked away, this version of him would cease to exist yet again. He slowly ran his hand through his short tresses, feeling more like himself than he had in years.
His quiet stare made you nervous. You didn’t want to ruin the moment, but you couldn’t stop yourself from piping up, “Do you like it? If not, I can go find one of the guys, maybe they can-”
“The last time I looked like this, I was following Steve onto a Hydra train…”
The room filled with an eerie silence as Bucky thought back on that fateful day. He swore he could still feel the ice cold wind whipping across his face, the sensation of falling without any hope of a safe landing. A small shiver crawled up his spine, and you feared he may lose himself in the violent flashback. But a sudden light in his eyes gave you hope.
Bucky quickly turned around and enveloped you in a hug so tight you saw stars. He whispered thanks into the crook of your neck over and over again as the weight of the moment overwhelmed him completely. The two of you remained locked in each other’s arms for a few long moments, breathing together as Bucky regained his composure. The emotion of it all was almost too much but, as always, your presence brought Bucky back to earth, back to the present.
“Thank you. I know I just said it like a hundred times but…” Bucky pulled away and ran a hand through his hair, “thank you for doing this for me”.
The two of you walked hand in hand back to bed, exhausted from the 3am catharsis. Bucky’s head rested against your sternum as your ran your hand through his hair, getting accustomed to the new cut. Bucky’s body begged him to sleep, but he resisted the pull of rest. He had things he needed to say to you that were far more important than rest- but couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact. Instead, his head remained on your chest, your heartbeat bringing him peace as he spoke.
“I can’t thank you enough. For everything. I never thought…I didn’t think I’d get to have someone like you in my life- someone so patient and kind and understanding. You’re just good. I hope you know how much you mean to me, how much I appreciate you. You changed my life. And I don’t know how much longer I have left, you know? But I’m glad I’ve gotten to spend even a little bit of my time on earth with you”.
And now it was you who couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. A few tears welled in your eyes and dripped down your cheeks, dampening your shirt. Bucky heard the uptick in your heartbeat as your emotions swelled, but didn’t point it out. He simply held you a little tighter, waiting until you were ready to speak- and even then, all you managed was a shaky “I’m always here for you, Buck.”
The two of you finally drifted off to sleep, your bodies tangled together in a safe embrace. For Bucky, getting close to you was never about anything other than being your friend. He didn’t open up to you in the kitchen that night because he suspected that you might’ve been able to help him wade through the dark waters of his past- from the very first smile you shot his way, he was hooked. It was a happy accident that being near you helped him learn how to trust again, to accept himself for who he was and who he could be.
And your goal was never to fix Bucky- he wasn’t broken. People joked about him being a problem to be solved or a question to be answered, but you simply saw him as a quiet, tormented man who didn’t deserve even a fraction of what he’d gone through. But when he started to thaw out, to grow comfortable with the idea of closeness with another human being, you realized just how good the two of you were for each other. Watching Bucky slowly rediscover who he was with you by his side felt like watching a chrysalis crack open at the beginning of spring.
Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @mrsdrysdale18 @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @cwbucky @duchessoftheheart @seitmai @itvy5601 @hisxsoulmate @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @masteroflightningz @evangeliamerryll 💜
Another one just came to mind before sleeping from nightshift😅😂, I don't know if you did Bodyguard Bucky? Cause that would be 😘😊😆
haven't done bodyguard bucky yet!! so that's exciting!! thank you for the request <3
bucky moodboards list
Bucky Barnes Series - Part Twelve
Summary: Bucky is a struggling single father trying to take care of his daughter when a stranger welcomes them into her home and brings a gentle love back into their life.
Warnings: smut!!! (18+ NO MINORS) & fluffiness, mentions of pregnancy
Bring Me to Life
Part Twelve - Patience is the Greatest Virtue
(Sorry for such a slow update! Haven’t had a lot of time or motivation but I think it’s coming back! Hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you for reading!!!)
It’s been a few weeks since Y/N reported the incident that happened in the classroom to her boss. Bucky convinced her she needed to or else he was going to do it himself.
Y/N hates confrontation but if she feels unsafe in her own classroom, she knows something has to be done about it. Everyday since, Bucky has made sure he’s there when Y/N gets off of work and makes sure he is safely in her car. Bucky doesn’t know why he never did this before since he gets to see his two favorite girls more.
Bucky is on high alert lately, wanting to keep both of his girls safe. He’s even looked up self defense classes for Y/N but she hasn’t been too keen on the idea.
“I think you should really do this darling.” Bucky is trying to convince Y/N as they pack for their trip.
“I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” Y/N deflects any response to his pleas.
“I just want you to be safe. I can’t be with you 24/7 and I want to make sure you can defend yourself. It scares me knowing what happened and that it could happen again.” He walks over to her and wraps his arms around her waist.
“I know. I just wish it was all different. Not just for me but for everyone who has ever been assaulted.”
“I do too.” Bucky leans in and kisses her head.
“Let’s just forget it for now please and have a good trip. This is our first Thanksgiving together.” Y/N turns around in his arms and smiles softly.
“I love having all these firsts with you.” He kisses the tip of her nose.
“Me too. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” She whispers before leaning up on her tiptoes and pressing a loving kiss to his lips.
“Mommy! Daddy! When are we leaving?” Asteria yells before barging into the bedroom. “Ew, were you just kissing.” Her face scrunches up in disgust.
“Was hoping to do a little more than that.” Bucky mumbles and Y/N scoffs, hitting him playfully on the chest.
“Stop it.” Y/N scolds him and he laughs, moving to grab their bags. “We’re leaving in a few minutes. Did you get everything packed?” Asteria nods. “Okay, go put your shoes on.” Asteria runs out of the room without another word.
“She’s getting too big.” Y/N sighs while putting on her shoes and jacket.
“She is. I can’t believe how much she has grown and I’m definitely not ready for it.” Bucky replies.
“Just wait until her teenage years.” Y/N laughs, helping him with the bags.
“Don’t even start with that.” He gives Y/N a pointed look.
“Oh come, it’s inevitable. You’re gonna have to get over it now.” Y/N leans over and kisses his cheek and Bucky scoffs.
“Now I don’t want to talk about this.” Bucky repeats Y/N’s words and walks out of the room. Y/N laughs, following him.
On the way to her sisters, Y/N couldn’t help but think about having a baby. Y/N saw the look in Bucky’s eyes as he worried about Asteria getting older. It made her really start to think about having kids with Bucky. He’s such an amazing father and the only man she would ever want to have kids with. She can’t help but wonder if it’s the right time.
“Has Dad said he’s coming?” Y/N asks Liz as they start prepping everything for dinner tomorrow.
“I called earlier but got his voicemail. I’ll try again later. You know how busy he is.”
“Yeah and I also know how horrible he is with time. We should probably tell him that dinner is a couple hours earlier than it really is and then maybe he’ll actually be on time.”
“Yeah you’re right. I’ll make Paul do it”
“Make Paul do what?” He walks into the kitchen with Bucky right behind him.
“Call my dad and tell him dinner is at 12.” Liz instructs her husband while cutting up fruit.
“But it’s not until 2.” Paul grabs a piece of fruit and pops it in his mouth.
“You know how he is with time. Always late to everything.”
“I never noticed that.” Paul comments.
“Are you kidding me!” Liz turns to face him. “Do you not remember our five year anniversary and he was supposed to meet us to pick up the kids and he was two hours late and we missed our flight making us have to reschedule the whole thing.”
Y/N leans against the counter and sips her wine, with a small smile on her face. Once you mess with Liz, there’s no coming back from it. She will always win the argument. Y/N learned this when they were teenagers.
“Alright, alright. I concede.” Paul holds up his hands before slowly backing out of the kitchen.
“You better call him!” Liz yells after him.
“I’m doing it right now.” Paul shouts back, then the sounds of the living room TV comes through.
“Ugh, men.” Liz mumbles, looking at Y/N to get her approval.
“Sorry sis, I think mine is pretty great.” Y/N looks at Bucky, who's standing next to her, beer in hand.
“For now.” Liz replies before walking out of the kitchen to scold Paul some more.
“Do you think we’ll ever get to that point?” Y/N moves to stand in front of Bucky, arms around his waist.
“Oh yeah for sure,” Bucky moves Y/N’s hair away from her face. “Then we’ll make up in the best ways possible.” He leans down, pressing a kiss against her neck.
“Hmm, and what ways are those?” She leans in closer to his face.
“Well, we already did it on the couch and in our bed. I guess the next place is to fuck you on the kitchen counter and the table.” Bucky pauses, gauging her reaction. “Then I’d eat your gorgeous pussy until you’re begging me to stop and choke you with my big cock that I know you love so much.” Bucky brings his thumb to her lips, tracing them softly. “God how I love seeing these beautiful lips around me, stuffing your throat until you can’t breathe. You love too, don’t you darling?” Y/N nods, as Bucky’s eyes fall to her chest, noticing the increasing rise and fall. “I want to fall asleep with the taste of you on my tongue every night.”
“Why do you have to be so damn perfect?” Y/N sighs, resting her face against his chest. She is wet just from his words, lord knows how much wetter she will get once he starts touching her.
“You have no idea how much I want to take you home and get those damn clothes off of you and kiss every inch of your skin.” Bucky whispers against her ear, making her shiver.
“Alright, stand down boy. I guess you’ll have to wait a few days.” Y/N turns to walk away but Bucky holds her tighter.
“Are you seriously denying me?” He presses his hard cock against her thigh. Y/N can’t help but let out a tiny moan, biting her lip.
“I know a place. After everyone is asleep, meet me outside okay?”
“I’m counting down the second darling.” Bucky plants a deep kiss on her lips before leaving her flushed in the kitchen.
It’s almost midnight and all the kids are passed out. Liz and her husband went to bed half an hour ago. Y/N is waiting out on the front porch for Bucky. She has not been able to stop thinking about all the things he said earlier. She’s never had someone who wanted her this much. Who puts in the effort to make her feel good, really good and makes her feel safe. She’s always wanted a relationship like this and she can’t believe she has it.
She’s going to cherish it forever.
“Hey.” Y/N stands up from the porch swing once Bucky steps out, quietly shutting the front door.
“So, where is this place you know of?”
“You’ll see.” Y/N takes his hand and leads the way down the driveway and onto the sidewalk.
“We used to live a few neighborhoods away and I would always go for a walk in the woods to find a quiet place to read. I found an amazing spot with the most beautiful trees.”
“Ever bring anyone else here?” Bucky asks as he helps Y/N carefully walk down a hill.
“Nope. You’re the first.” She smiles brightly as she climbs another hill, getting to the top of the hill.
“I’m so glad to be your first.” Bucky wraps his arms around her waist once he makes it to the top with her.
“Oh stop.” Y/N nudges him playfully and giggles. “Isn’t it so pretty out here? I’ve never actually been out here at night.”
“The most beautiful view.”
Y/N turns around in Bucky’s arm, noticing he’s looking at her. She shakes her head lightly with a smile. She wraps her arms around Bucky’s neck.
“Do you want to have a baby?” Y/N surprises herself as she asks Bucky.
“What, really?” His smile falters slightly from the unexpected question.
“I’ve been thinking about it and Asteria is growing up and she’s been talking about wanting a sibling because of her friends from school. I don’t know, what do you think about it?”
“What do I think about it? Darling of course I want to have a baby with you. I want everything with you. I just want to make sure this is what you really want. You never asked for any of this unexpectedness with me and Asteria. I don’t want to rush anything with you. I want to take my time with you.”
“I never thought I’d want kids. The thought of being responsible for another human being scares me but ever since I met you and Asteria, I’ve realized now that having a family is something I’ve always dreamed of but never thought I’d have, but now I do. So I’m ready. I’m so ready.”
“Fuck, I love you so much.” Bucky practically tackles Y/N in a passionate kiss. Bucky grips her thighs, picking her up holding her close to him before carefully bending down to the ground, with her on top of him.
“Tell me how you want me to fuck you darling.” Bucky kisses down her neck.
“Here? Now?” Y/N breathes heavily, hands brushing through his hair.
“I’m not waiting any longer, baby. I’ve wanted you since this morning. You either tell me or I’ll fuck you anyway I want.” Bucky grips her hair, pulling her face to look him in the eyes.
“I want, I want you to fuck me hard.” Y/N swallows back a moan as she grinds on top of him.
“What else darling?” Bucky swipes his tongue along her neck, kissing her jaw and up to her mouth, hovering above her lips.
“Please, just please I need you inside me, filling me up only the way you can. I want to feel your cock deep inside me as I cum and feel you cum inside me the way I know you like it.”
Bucky moans just from her words, feeling his hardness against his jeans. He can’t fucking take it any longer.
“God damn, darling. I want to see how many times I can make you cum.” Bucky takes off his jacket and shirt. Y/N gets off of him as he lays them on the grass, looking up at her.
“Take your clothes off for me baby. I want to take in every inch of you.” Y/N slowly unzips her jacket, taking off her shirt revealing she isn’t wearing a bra. Bucky’s mouth waters from her perfect tits. He can’t wait to suck on them and see them grow bigger once she is stuffed full of his baby. Y/N undoes her pants and slips off her shoes, reaching to take her panties off but Bucky stops her.
“You just had to wear my favorite color.” He groans as he kisses his way up to her red lace panties, placing a kiss over the soaking fabric. “Darling, so wet already.” He takes the top between his teeth, pulling them down her legs, lifting her leg to get them off.
Bucky keeps her leg up, putting it over his shoulder, gripping her ass to bring her closer to his mouth, laying his tongue flat against her wet folds. “Fuck, I could eat her all day. So fucking good baby.” He flicks his tongue through her lips. Y/N moans out, gripping his hair tightly.
“That’s it baby, fuck my face. Make a mess for me.” Y/N grinds down on his face, feeling so overwhelmed, her legs wanting to give out from the intense pleasure.
“Cum for me darling. Give it to me.” He sucks on her clit like it’s his last meal, holding her against his face as she shivers and moans out his name loudly.
“Fuck, Bucky.” Y/N collapses against him. Bucky puts her leg down, helping her carefully down on his clothes he laid out before crawling over her.
“That was one. I want another one darling.” His eyes meet hers with her wetness all over his stubble. She is in love with that sight.
Y/N’s eyes roll back in her head as Bucky slips a finger inside her tight pussy. “I love the sounds you make darling. All for me.” Bucky leans over her, kissing her passionately as he slips in another finger. “I can feel you clenching already baby, cum for me. That’s it, soak my hand.” Y/N grabs at his wrist as she hits her orgasm. Bucky doesn’t remove his fingers, letting her ride it out.
“Bucky, oh, Buck please, fuck, I’m going to cum again.” Y/N squeals as she hits another high.
“Oh fuck, three already darling.” He pulls his fingers out, her wetness trailing down his arm. Y/N can hardly keep her eyes open from the pleasure rushing through her body but she focuses on Bucky as he sucks his fingers clean of her juices.
“My fucking favorite taste in the whole world.” He rests his hands next to her head, kissing her in a heated kiss. Y/N moves her hips up against his hard cock straining against his pants.
“Are you still up for this darling? Still want me to fill you up?”
“God, yes Bucky. Please fuck me. I need you.”
Bucky gets up, taking off his jeans and boxers. Y/N watches as his cock slaps against his abdomen. She will never get used to it.
“Like what you see?” Bucky smirks with his hands on his hips.
“Hmm, very much. But I’d like it much better inside me.” Y/N spreads her legs and Bucky immediately falls to his knees, crawling to her, kissing up her legs, pressing a kiss to her mound again before hovering above her again.
“Look how shameless you are darling. Letting me take you out in the open like this. Coming for me as many times as I want. What did I ever do to deserve you?” Bucky kisses across her chest before down to her breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth. “Are you ready to give me another one darling?”
“Yes, Bucky, please just fuck me already.” Y/N begs, taking his cock in her hand, pumping him and rubbing her pussy against it.
Bucky doesn’t think he’ll last much longer so he slips inside her, almost collapsing at the feeling of her wrapped around him.
“Fuck baby, you always feel so fucking good. Oh god, I can’t go slow right now.” Bucky pumps faster and harder.
“Fuck me good Bucky.” Y/N grips his back as he rocks into her. “Oh shit, Buck making me feel so good. Oh god.”
Bucky moves to his knees, pulling her legs over his chest, holding her hips as he fucks into her hastily. He watches her face scrunch in pleasure as the loud moans escape her gorgeous lips. He glances down at her stomach, resting a hand there, feeling him deep inside her. He groans, moving faster at the thought of putting a baby inside her.
“Oh fuck baby, I’m not gonna last. Need you to cum right now.” Bucky presses a thumb to her clit, rubbing harshly as Y/N bucks her hips, clenching his cock so good.
“Bucky, oh fuck, Bucky I’m gonna cum. Oh god right there.” Y/N cries as her fourth orgasms rushes over her, body jerking as Bucky continues to fuck her harder. Bucky lets her legs fall back down, pressing his body against her, not letting an inch through.
“Fuck, Y/N. I’m cumming.” Bucky groans, pounding his cum into her tight pussy, stilling his hips deep inside, making sure she gets all of him.
“You okay darling?” Bucky hovers his face over her. Y/N nods with a smile, pulling his lip down to hers.
“I want it to feel like this forever.” Her voice is hoarse from her cries of pleasure.
���It will. I’ll make sure of it.” Bucky kisses her, slipping his tongue in her mouth before carefully pulling out of her. He leans back, holding her legs open, watching his cum drip from her beautiful pussy.
“I will never get over that sight.” He bends down, licking at her sensitive pussy.
“Bucky, stop, I can’t.” Y/N tries to push his head away.
“I’m sorry darling, I can’t help myself. Just so good.” He licks up their mixture and groans before sucking on her clit again.
“Bucky, fuck.” Y/N feels him chuckle against her as he shoves two fingers inside her again.
“Give me one more baby. I know you can do it.” Bucky fucks his fingers faster, continuing to suck her clit.
“God, fuck Bucky!” Y/N screams so loudly as her wetness explodes on his face. Bucky is surprised at first but fucks his fingers harder as Y/N squirts all over him. Y/N thrashes on the ground, grabbing at his wrist to stop.
“Shit, darling. I didn’t know you could do that.” Bucky pulls his fingers out, sucking them clean.
“I didn’t either.” Y/N breathes heavily, her body feeling weak. “I don’t think I can walk.”
“Well, then I did my job.” Bucky teases, grabbing her in his arms.
“I think we did it.”
“Made a baby.”
Thanksgiving dinner has started off well but knowing Liz, who knows how long that will last.
‘What did I tell you!” Liz confronts Paul. “You didn’t call him yesterday did you? God, why can’t you ever listen to me?”
Y/N and Bucky are at the dining table with all the kids, as they wait to serve themselves.
“Who are they talking about?” Hadley asks.
“Grandpa.” Y/N whispers.
“He’s always late.” Hadley rolls her eyes and Y/N laughs.
Just as Liz and Paul walk back into the dining room, the doorbell sounds.
“Finally!” Liz exclaims walking to the front door. “Oh good, only an hour late. A new record.”
“I’m sorry honey.”
“Just come on, everyone’s waiting.”
“Grandpa!” The kids get up, rushing over to him and colliding him in a hug.
“Oh my little munchkins.” Mike notices Asteria standing hesitantly near him before he grabs her in his arms and tickles all three kids. Asteria brusts with laughter. Y/N smiles at the sight, pressing her hand on Bucky’s thigh. He looks at Y/N and smiles, grasping her hand in his tightly.
“Come on kids, back in your seats so we can eat before the food gets colder.” Liz is already over today. Y/N would usually step in but lets her do her thing as it’s her home.
Y/N gets up and helps the kids with their plates before sitting down to serve herself. Bucky has waited as well and Y/N smiles from the gesture.
“What have you been up to, Bucky?” Mike asks him.
“Busy working mostly.” Bucky clears his throat.
“Just a few construction jobs. Tony has some new ones in development that have to get passed before we start work on them. There’s one that I think is going to be really special.”
“Can you tell us anything about it?” Y/N asks him, wondering why he’s just now mentioning this.
“Not until it gets the okay.”
“I can’t wait to hear about it.” Y/N pats his thigh with a smile.
“I have some news actually.” Liz speaks up. She looks over at Paul and he nods his head.
“What!” Y/N shouts, all eyes on Liz now.
“You’re having a baby!” Hadley jumps up, running to hug her mom.
“Yep. You’re going to have another sibling.”
“I hope it’s a boy!” Finn runs over and hugs her too.
“I’m happy for you Lizzy.” Mike stands up and walks over to give her hug too.
“When do I get to have a sibling!?” Asteria stands on her chair arms, crossed with a pout.
“Aster,” Bucky points his finger at her to sit back down.
“But it’s not fair!” She climbs down from the chair and runs out of the room.
“Sorry, congratulations guys.” Bucky tells Liz and Paul before going after Asteria.
“I’m so happy for you guys! I can’t wait to have another niece or nephew.” Y/N hugs both of them. “I better go check on her too.”
Y/N walks out of the dining room, not finding them in the living room but sees them through the big window outside on the porch swing.
“Hey.” Y/N walks out, sitting on the other side of Asteria. “What’s going on?” Y/N wraps an arm around Asteria.
“I want a baby sister or baby brother. Everyone else has one except me.”
“Those things take time sweetheart.” Y/N runs hand through Asteria’s hair.
“How long?” She looks up.
“Well usually 9 months.”
“That’s a long time.” Asteria sighs, falling back against the swing.
“You just have to be patient.” Bucky adds, looking over at Y/N. “You never know what could happen. You have to be open and let what’s meant for you make its way to you. But you know what the best part is?”
“What?” Asteria turns to look at her dad.
“No matter what, we’ll always be together. As a family.” Y/N looks at him and he brings his arm around both of them, pulling them close.
“I love my girls.” He kisses each of their heads.
“I love you too daddy.” Asteria leans up and kisses his cheek. Y/N giggles softly, leaning over to kiss his lips.
“Mhm, I love you too daddy.” Y/N mumbles against his lips, teasing him.
“Mhm, I love the sound of that.” Bucky winks before they all get up and head back inside.
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𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 (𝟏) • 𝐛.𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬
pairing — best friend!bucky barnes x reader (modern au) (best friends to lovers)
summary — after breaking up with your cheating ex, you’re left with two tickets to greece. you continue with the trip and oh, bucky’s coming along with you. what could go wrong?
warnings — angst, cheating, fluff, lowkey mutual pining, tension
word count — 2,244
author’s note — hi, this is the first chapter of my new series, i’ve just started writing and your feedback is important to me! i hope you love this and thank you for reading!
tags are open! feel free to drop me an ask or fill in my taglist form! thank you for reading! please reblog if you’d like to, have a good day!
You sat on a bench in the middle of central park, shivering lightly as a cold breeze brushed past your skin, you were alone in the middle of a park at one in the morning, the usual sounds of crickets chirping barely bothered you as you wiped at what was left of your tears, your cheeks were tear stained and your eyes were red, swollen from crying for what felt like half a day.
You choked back on a sob, your fingers tightening around the napkin that a stranger had passed you, her eyes filled with sympathy, that was probably a good three hours ago, you had lost count of just how long you had been sitting on this exact bench, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried so hard to get the image of your boyfriend, well, ex and your friend in bed out of your head.
They were both half naked, Brock’s face practically in her neck, her wanton moans bouncing off the walls of what you once called your room as she rode him, her fingers digging into his chest, and there you stood for a good ten seconds, too dumbfounded to say a single word.
Your eyes had welled up with tears, the bags and bags of essentials you had bought for you and Brock’s trip to Greece dropped to the floor, catching their attention. You remembered how your ex had scrambled, eyes wide with shock at the sight of you, shaking your head as you chuckled dryly.
“Don’t you fucking dare tell me it was an accident because we both know that you’ve been eyeing her for months” you retort, fist clenched as you held back your tears, refusing to give the both of them the satisfaction of seeing you cry, you didn’t need to hear Brittany’s mocking comments about you, and you could see that smirk painted on her face, her hair framing her face ever so fucking perfectly, she had always been the perfect one, the one with the small waist and the ass that you were pretty sure caught Brock’s attention the second you introduced your friend to him.
So when the both of them stood against you, you weren’t left with much of a choice except to pack your things messily into your duffle bag, trying to ignore their whispered comments outside the room.
Now, here you were, in the park, alone. You sighed, biting your lip, willing yourself not to cry. You were homeless, what was left of your savings had been pumped into that damn apartment’s rent and the rest went into the getaway vacation that you had planned for months, and just as you were about to give in to the tears that threatened to slip, your phone buzzed, the ten percent warning flashing in your face, you cursed lightly, and just then, your phone rang.
The familiar picture of your best friend, Bucky popped up on your screen, the profile simply being a selfie of you and the brunette, wide happy smiles on your faces, it was taken years ago and yet it still stood as one of your best memories.
You picked up the call, trying to steady your voice as you mumbled a quick “hey Buck”, because if Bucky knew what Brock had done, you were pretty damn sure he’d be at your ex’s door faster than you could stop him, and the last thing you needed was Bucky standing up for you like that. Just as he did when you were both in elementary school, against bullies who’d never left you alone just for him to end up in the nurse’s office with a bloody nose and a black eye.
“(Y/n)?” he said, his voice was filled with worry, “are you okay?” you swallowed hard, trying to hold back tears, you needed him, so badly, the feel of his arms wrapped around you in a comforting embrace always made you feel at ease, almost as if you were home.
“I-I, it’s nothing Buck-”
“Doll, what’s wrong?” he continued.
“It’s Rumlow isn’t it?”
“Bucky, please-” you replied, your voice shaky, “Where are you?” he asks, almost gently.
“The park, on the bench,” you said softly, “The one with the oak tree beside it?” your best friend concludes and you replied with a “yes”. He drops a quick “I’ll be there in ten, do not move” before he hangs up.
You gazed at the oak tree beside you, the memories from almost two decades ago ran through your mind like a film without sound. It was right here where you met Bucky, you were both seven, and you remembered thinking how this boy had the most bluest cerulean eyes you had ever seen paired with the brightest smile.
You and Bucky became best friends almost instantly, that was sealed when you realised you both shared the same favourite ice cream flavour, chocolate chip, from then on, you were both inseparable, he’d wait for you at your apartment every morning, greeting your mum with a smile and an ever so polite “good morning Mrs (L/N)” before he left with you, your laughters echoing through the hallway as you both made your way to school.
That lasted a good way till the end of high school, and even in college, you both had “Friday movie nights” which you had cancelled many times due to Brock demanding that you spent Fridays with him.
The rumble of a motorcycle pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see Bucky dressed in one of his black shirts and jeans matched with his signature dark leather jacket, he slipped his helmet off with ease, his eyes quickly found yours, a comforting smile on his face as you stood up.
“You alright?” he asks, and you nod, returning his smile with a small one.
“You didn’t call and I was at your place-”
“Movie night! Oh god, Buck, I, I was gonna go over once I dropped the things off and-”
“No, no, it’s fine doll, what matters most is that you’re okay. What happened?” he asks as he helps you with your bags and you blinked back tears, “Brock, h-he cheated with Brittany.” you admitted, and you swore you saw the brunette’s fingers tighten around your bag.
“That piece of-”
“It’s alright Bucky” you said quickly, “Brock and I are over” you whispered, nodding almost as if to remind yourself of that fact, the brunette places your bags in his top box, passing you a helmet in the process, it was the same purple one he had gotten just for you when he got his motorbike, “Just in case you ever wanna go for a ride” he had said with a boyish grin, you were both eighteen, and you remembered being so excited when he took you for a ride around New York.
“Here, let me” he said softly as he takes the helmet, putting it on you, “Just making sure it still fits” he says lightly and you nod, it had been years since you took a ride and just feeling his fingers brush against your neck just as the way they did when he first put it on made you shiver.
You shook your head as Bucky slips his jacket off, “It’s fine, i’m not-” “It’s a cold night doll, put it on” the brunette replies and deciding that you could never argue with him, you gave in, putting it on, and immediately the smell of his cologne hits you, it was familiar, the smell of sandalwood and white musk, the cologne you had gotten him on his birthday just last year.
He still had it.
You got onto the motorbike, wrapping your arms around his waist, the motorcycle rumbled and off it went, you rested your head against Bucky’s back, allowing yourself to give in to much needed sleep as you went past empty roads, the jacket keeping you warm as your eyes slowly fluttered shut, and for a while, you managed to catch some rest, the image of your ex disappearing.
“(Y/n), we’re here” Bucky had said, shaking you ever so gently as he picks up your bags, taking your helmet along with him as he guides you to the oh so familiar building, the last time you were here was a good three months ago, for movie night, it felt it had been years ago, and you could feel guilt pooling in your stomach as you remembered the number of times you had cancelled on the brunette.
The dinghy lift creaked a little as Bucky pressed the number 5 button. “I swear this lift is about to breakdown” he mumbles and you couldn’t help but chuckle, “Buck, that’s what you said a year ago,” you joked as he shoots you a playful glare.
“Not my fault Marge lasted this long,” you shook your head, laughing, Marge was the nickname you and Bucky had given this lift when he had just moved in, and it was just as old as it was then.
The lift dinged, and you stepped out, following the brunette to his door, he easily unlocked his door, letting you in first, after all he was always the gentleman, something about him you had always appreciated. You looked around the apartment, it still looked and felt the same, like home.
The pictures of you and Bucky at prom still hung from the wall, bright smiles and you could still fondly remember how your heart had almost pounded out of your chest when the brunette placed his arm around your waist, pulling you close as you both smiled for the camera, those times were perfect and you always wished you could go back when you were a wide eyed innocent child, oh how simple things were back then.
“Bucky” you started softly and he looks towards you, “Thank you, for everything,” you continued and he nods with a reassuring smile, “Anytime doll,” he replies.
“Could I, maybe borrow your laptop, mine’s dead,” you said and he glances at you, surprised, “Now?”.
“Yeah, I-I should cancel that trip to Greece, the hotel and-”
“Y-yeah, I planned a trip with Brock months ago and the flight’s on Sunday and-” you rambled on before Bucky cuts in with a “I’ll go with you” leaving you in shock.
“B-but, it’s a week long”
“Exactly, and you’re not wasting your money, come on doll, it’s Greece, you love it, Athens and the Parthenon, all that was part of your travel diary,” the brunette replies, you couldn’t help but smile when he brings up your travel diary, a little journal you had made when you were in the sixth grade, and you had been so exhilarated when you completed it, showing it to your best friend as you went on and on about how you were so gonna visit the place of your dreams when you were older.
“Of course, i’d never forget a thing about you,” he replies, his voice so, so comforting and you nodded, warmth flooding your chest as you allowed his words to sink in, you could feel all the feelings that you had buried long before slowly surfacing, you remembered just how you had tried so hard to hide the way your palms would turn clammy when Bucky held your hand, squeezing it reassuringly on your first day of senior year, or how you had almost combusted when he leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling your neck as he taught you how to solve the one math problem that you just couldn’t figure out.
“Let’s go for that trip doll, you deserve it,” the brunette says, “I guess we’re off to Greece then,” you reply with a smile.
“You bet we are,” Bucky replied, he couldn’t help but smile when you did, god, there was just something about your smile, it wasn’t just the fact that it bought out just about all your features, it was the fact that he couldn’t help but fall into it, every time you smiled, he swore he could feel his heart beat just a little faster, his stomach would do flips as he tried to stop himself from being pulled deeper into the clutches of love, he had in every damn way, tried to get over you when you dated Rumlow.
He went on random dates that his friends had set him up on and even then, he never could get you out of his mind and just by the way his heart was pounding so quickly, he knew that was impossible.
Not that he ever wanted to either.
It was almost three in the morning when you finally settled into bed, well, Bucky’s bed, he had insisted to take the couch despite the both of you having cuddled on the couch every time you came over for movie night. Despite your protests, he had moved his blanket and pillow to the hall, handing you fresh ones, and making sure you were comfortable before he left.
You tossed and turned, and just then, your phone lit up, the notification of your upcoming flight two days from now flashed on your screen, you sigh as you rested your head against the pillow, wondering if you had made the correct choice to go on vacation with Bucky.
You shook the doubts away, reminding yourself to catch some sleep, and to perhaps stop worrying.
After all, you and Bucky were just best friends, right?
author’s note — hi sweetie! i hope you enjoyed chapter 1, if you’d like a chapter 2, let me know and i’ll work on it! your feedback is important to me, so let me know what you think! thank you for stopping by!
hiii, i've been binge reading your blog for a while now and its AMAZING, really, anyways, i've finally gathered the courage to make a request and I was wondering if you could do something, like, drabble, hc, idrk, writers choice, with Bucky dating a Widow, I think it would be a pretty interesting dinamic :)))
a/n: omg thank you for requesting !! I think this idea lended really well to a headcanon post (it’s like a ramble of thoughts, vague plots and such) so I hope that’s okay! I’m so so glad you’ve enjoyed my work, that means the world to me !!!! I love writing and im so glad others like reading it. Hope you enjoy this as well :) I hope it's not too short or anything idk it was kind of all over the place but that's what HCs can be sometimes lmao
When you and Bucky first met he hadn’t realized you were anything but a normal, average woman living a normal, average life
You two had met at a little coffee shop just around the block from Bucky’s apartment. He saw you there often and finally, one day, the stars aligned —
Well, actually, what happened was you had accidentally spilled your iced coffee on Bucky because you were distracted by your cell phone.
Little did Bucky know at the time, you were engrossed in your phone because you just never had one before, you never had anything of your own, and technology immediately pulled you in.
But, anyways, after spilling your coffee and apologizing profusely nonstop for a good minute or so, Bucky assured you it was okay and even offered to buy you another drink. You agreed after some protest.
He then invited you to chat for a bit.
And that was that. A couple months and many dates later, you two were officially a couple
All was going pretty well until you got to the stage where you two really opened up about life and family and friends and everything.
It hadn’t taken Bucky long to realize that you were incredibly vague about your past.
On top of it, you held a keen fascination for certain things in a way that reminded Bucky of, well, himself.
Technology was a big one.
You enjoyed your phone and laptop and were very protective over them. They were encrypted just so, along with your smart home devices, which scared Bucky the first time he visited your place.
There was also the thing you had for fashion and decorating.
Much like technology, you were protective of your style and tweaked everything so it was just so. You appreciated it all, everything the shops had to offer. Bucky never missed how your eyes would move and your hands would glide.
Bucky couldn’t help but notice how you two could be so similar in that way. Things just seemed to surprise you both
Bucky found this a bit peculiar. He understood his situation but with you he couldn’t help but wonder what happened? What laid beneath the surface for you?
The answer was finally revealed one night when you two were out at a bar. You had had one too many vodka martinis and Bucky made a teasing remark about how you’d need assistance getting back to your apartment.
"I was a Widow, Buck, I think I can hold my own just fine," you had shot back. "Tipsy or not."
Once you made your comment, you went back to sipping your drink like nothing happened.
But Bucky had a hard time getting past this little factoid your tipsy brain decided to drop on him.
A Widow. You had been a goddamn Widow.
The lightbulb suddenly went off in his head. It explained…everything. The reason for your fascinations. The technology, the protectiveness, the indescribable past, the fashion. You were just starting to figure out your life.
Hell — you probably never even dated someone before him.
Bucky kept all these thoughts to himself for the rest of the night and for the next few days. You were oblivious to what you had let slip and Bucky, being a trained assassin himself, had no trouble keeping it a secret.
At least, that was until he was ready to confront you about it.
In hindsight, it was kind of a stupid, maybe cheesy idea, but Bucky had one day suggest you two work out together. Have a little gym date. You weren’t shy about the fact you worked out and neither was Bucky so the idea wasn’t weird. In fact, at the time, you wondered why you hadn’t suggested it before.
But when you arrived at the gym you realized it wasn’t going to be a normal workout full of cardio and weights.
Bucky had taken you to a boxing ring.
You looked at him weirdly. "We’re boxing?" You asked.
Bucky hopped in the ring and shrugged. "A little sparring."
"Oh, Buck… I—I’m not really—,"
"Humor me," he said with a smirk.
And you did. You didn’t hold back no matter how confused you were about this situation. You used your fight, pulling up moves from the deep depths of your brain. It was like riding a bike. You were surprised — and a little scared — to see that you still had it in you. But why would Bucky suggest this, you thought you had done well…
It wasn’t until you had Bucky pinned to the ground did it click for you. He muttered out a little, "I knew it" and all the puzzle pieces came together.
You rolled off him to catch your breath. You sat beside him in the ring. "I told you I was a Widow, huh?"
Bucky nodded. Your face went red with embarrassment as the memory finally came back to you. You could never be trusted around vodka.
You apologized for telling him that way but Bucky didn’t mind. In fact, he apologized for bringing you to a boxing ring but admitted he was greatly curious about whether you were telling the truth or just letting out drunken lies.
You said you weren’t lying and went into some vague version about how you were freed and struggled to begin a life that wasn’t about…your skills.
When you told him you haven’t done anything like that in years, he apologized profusely again, but you assured him it was okay. It was…interesting to see what was still up there, what you still possessed. Frankly, you didn’t think you still had it in you.
From then on, you became Bucky’s workout buddy. You two regularly sparred together, helping you keep sharp and helping to keep Bucky on his toes. The sparring actually became very therapeutic. You were able to release your training in a safe, positive environment. Much different to the…facility.
You didn’t feel like someone’s weapon. You felt like a girlfriend working out with her boyfriend. And that was great, that was something you hadn’t realized you had been craving.
But it wasn’t just your fighting moves that intrigued Bucky — it was your mind, too.
Your interest in technology ran deep, having likely begun during your time as a Widow. There was…a lot of revolutionary technology you came across in your time and you had subconsciously formed an interest that was finally able to bloom in your newly discovered freedom.
This allowed you to assist Bucky with any missions he was assigned to. You didn’t formally work for anyone and instead operated as his independent contractor.
"Jesus," Bucky swore as he watched you work, "what else lives in that brain? Can you tell me the lottery numbers for next week?"
You just laughed. "Bucky, if I knew the lottery numbers, I wouldn’t be living in an apartment, would I?"
But sometimes it wasn’t always good. You could suffer from nightmares from time to time as memories never seemed to want to leave you alone. Bucky understood this very well and had no problem comforting you in the night. Often you both would be awake and need to lean on one another.
"I got you, doll," Bucky would mutter as he held in bed.
"I got you, too," you’d respond, placing a kiss on his cheek, making him blush.
Sparring with him, for as safe as you usually felt, could also be triggering and you’d have to walk away for a while. Bucky knew to leave you alone during times likes these as you could get quite intense. But he was always happy to welcome you back a couple of days later and you’d pick up like nothing happened.
"Ready to kick my ass today, sweetheart?" Bucky would teasingly ask.
You’d have to muster up a smile but wouldn’t be shy to respond. "Always, honey."
Really, you two would make such a good couple. You had more understanding for each other than any regular person could ever have. It wasn’t all smooth sailing and you would need different support from one another at different times but humor and some bit of optimism kept it all going.
Because every day was a reminder that you both were out of your situations. Free to make a life, especially together.
He can suck-
This is giving sugar daddy vibes and I can’t explain 🥴
warnings || sugar daddy Bucky, oral sex — 18+ only. MINORS DNI
JOIN MY SLEEPOVER!!
“Are you still upset with me?” He cooed as you swirled your tongue over the cream. You pouted and shrugged your shoulders before biting down into the cupcake. “Ummm… it’s so tasty!”
An instant smile bloomed on Bucky’s face. Though the cupcakes weren’t as tasty as the cakes Bucky bought for you, the fact that he had baked them just for you made the cupcakes sweeter than the rest. “Now don’t you think it’s time for daddy’s dessert?” He growled.
Your eyes widened comically when the meaning behind his words sank in. Bucky was quick to push your legs apart as you sat on the kitchen counter and he seated himself in between. He was quick to discard your panties and you hissed at the cool air.
But soon the feeling went away as Bucky’s warm tongue lapped at your folds. You ran your fingers over Bucky’s short locks as the cupcake slipped from your fingers and was forgotten on the counter. You licked your lips and smiled as Bucky drew pleasure from you with very precise details.
You had been a little upset with Bucky when he hadn’t turned up for your date. You did understand that he was a very busy man, but you had your reasons to be upset. But if Bucky hated one thing, it was seeing you sad, especially because of him.
Your toes curled as he flicked your throbbing clit before sucking on it. He was lapping up your juices and you could do nothing but hold onto the counter and Bucky for support. Your moans were reverberating against the pristine walls of the kitchen and the room was filled with the noise of steady lapping.
You threw your head back and arched your back as tendrils of pleasure travelled up your spine. Your legs trembled as his wet tongue fucked into your quivering hole. You moaned out Bucky’s name as you felt the coil in your tummy growing tighter by the minute.
Your eyes closed of their own accord as your nerves frizzled with strong currents when you came. Bucky knew just how to pluck pleasure out of you. Your entire body was trembling with aftershocks when Bucky pulled back to look up at you.
His beard was glistening with your release and you chewed your lip with slight embarrassment. Bucky smirked as he stood up and his hugs form made you seem small. He pulled you into a chaste kiss and you could taste yourself on his lips while he could taste the cupcake on yours.
“So, did you forgive me princess?”
𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖔𝖈𝖊𝖆𝖓 ☆ 𝖇.𝖇𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖊𝖘
pairings– prince!bucky x pirate!f!reader
summary– ripped from the safety of a kingdom he'd rule one day, prince James Buchanan Barnes tries to survive his time on The Golden Rose, the crew members and the captain– you.
warnings– prince bucky is a spoiled, cocky piece of shit, reader couldn't care less, Steve's here. If this flops, it never fucking happened.
|| 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓮 ||
any other day, James Buchanan Barnes would've adored the thought of two woman standing in his bedroom, eyeing him and observing his manly figure as he's dressed in nothing but his undergarment, lusting for the prince and unable to keep their hands to themselves but the point of a sword is digging into the flesh of his chest, awfully close to his heart and the looks upon their faces isn't exactly something bucky would describe as lust, no it was far from what he had dreamed off.
A cold breeze wafts through the big open window, thin curtains dancing in the winds, that must be the way these two ladies had made their way into the castle, his bedroom and the sound of gun fire, fighting and screaming echoes through the darkness of the night, only lit by the flames of fires and explosion.
No, this is not what he'd thought of when celebrating his father's departure into the open sea, sailing away for a month or two or maybe even four.
Bucky had imagined his days without his father's presence to be more…joyful but the dark pupils and merciless looks on the faces of the two strangers standing in his bedroom tells him just how much it's not going to be something joyful.
Even in the comfort of his own home, for the very first time in his life bucky feels unsafe and under the gaze of the short brunette and the red-head, bucky feels naked in nothing but his undergarment. God, his father would laugh knowing his son isn't capable of fighting two girls but in all fairness, who would want to fight someone with a sword to your heart and the barrel of a gun aimed at your head?
But how dare these ladies break into his house and hold him under gun point– if they even could be called ladies, they're acting like men, like..the pirates his mother had told him about when he was younger.
Pirates, yes. The puzzle pieces connect together in mind. The unwashed hair, the dirty clothes and the dirt on their faces– unhygienic, dirty..poor; pirates.
"James Buchanan Barnes?" The brunette speaks up, letting his name roll from her lips as she digs the point of her sword deeper in the skin of his chest– bucky groans at the feel; arousing almost? Good lord he really needs to find himself a wife to please his needs, doesn't he?
"Depends on who's asking," Bucky grins another groan falling from his lips and followed by a hiss of pain as the female pirate– rather pretty he must admit – digs her swords further and further into his flesh, blood staining the fabric around it "is it strange I find this rather..arousing? Now, how about we drop our weapons, get a cup of tea, beer..wine, whatever we please and take you beautiful ladies to bed, have some fun?"
"Do you find yourself funny, barnes?"
"Bucky..you can call me bucky darling and I do in fact find myself rather amusing, though I have the idea you ladies might think otherwise."
"What gave it away, mate?" The red-head behind the brunette speaks up for the first time, brows raised in curiosity.
"Most women laugh at my jokes, I can hardly get a smile from you ladies." Bucky confesses, cockiness dripping thick from his voice.
"We'll be laughing when we get you on the golden rose– get on moving."
The brunette once again pushes her weight slightly against her sword, Bucky barely feels the pain– taking a step back, he quickly looks at the open window and the war zone that takes place in the village down below his bedroom window. His palms getting sweaty as the height between his window and the ground below seems rather big.
Bucky swallows the lump in his throat "down there– you've..I've never climbed down– you ladies have done this before," stumbling not only over his feet, bucky stumbles over his words, stuttering with every step he takes back, the ladies coming closer and closer "at least let me get dressed."
Within the blink of an eye, the red-head snatches some pants from the edge of the bed and tosses them his way "that's enough, put them on and follow our orders before we push you out of that window."
Bucky simply nods, well aware that his charms aren't going to work well with the women standing in front of him. He stumbles over his feet once more as he pushes his legs in his pants and carefully steps over the windowsill and into the cold air. It sends a shiver down his spine. He doesn't know how his limbs move him down the walls of the castle but he thanks whoever built the castle so poorly, the bricks that stick out big enough for his feet to balance on and Bucky doesn't know how he manages to set foot back on solid ground without panicking. He's down and he swallows the lump in his throat once more as he lays his eyes upon the two unconscious men near him, the army his father had gathered over the years.
"Don't worry, they'll live." The brunette surprises Bucky as she too steps down, surprisingly elegant "a broken nose maybe but nobody ever died of that."
Bucky chuckles nervously and shakes his head "not that I'm aware but–" his sentence is cut short when a small hand wraps around his arm rather tight and almost painful and yanks him away, once again making him stumble over his feet as the red-head drags him through the chaos in the village; the screaming wives, crying children, the yelling if men fighting back and the piles of dead and unconscious men. The smell of gunpowder fills his nostrils– his kingdom destroyed before he even has the chance to take his fathers place.
But he doesn't have much time to think about that or anything at all, his eyes are glued to the sight of a ship just a few meters from the docks getting bigger and bigger with each tug of his arm– he hasn't seen a real pirate ship in all the years he's roamed this earth– his eyes widen as the end of the dock seems to be getting too close but before he can even say another word, he's pulled off into the cold water, knocking the air out of his lung, bucky quickly swims up the the surface and gasps for air. Offended and annoyed.
"Swim Barnes," he's shoved forwards by one of the women once again
"Do you even know who I am?" Bucky scoffs in annoyance "this is not how you treat a king."
"These sharks don't care who you are, I'd get swimming if I were you." The brunette says and for the first time upon meeting, bucky sees her lips turn into a wicked smile.
Heavy, water filled boots thud against the wooden deck, clothes dripping and sticking against every part of your body, bandana heavy on your head but you don't mind, the jump into the sea something refreshing, giving your clothes a quick wash and removing the dirt from your face– a dip into the water was a must of once in a while.
You adjust your sword that hangs loosely from its holster and stroll along the side of your ship, watching the little dots floating in the sea becoming clearer as they get closer. The war in the background slowly dies as your ladies come dripping back on board one by one and without any order from you, start to prepare the ship for an easy escape.
Captain. You earned that title years ago. Gained the trust and respect of the crew as just a mere teenager on board the golden rose as the only daughter of the well known Captain y/l/n. Following in his footsteps the day he died, the ship, the crew and the title had been gifted to you that same day. Captain y/n. And though your crew had changed in the last few years, your fleet consisting of ladies only, they all one by one trusted you with their lives.
"Avelyn is on her way with the prince, captain, they'll be here shortly," one of your ladies states as she moves around the ship in a hurry.
You simply nod and let your eyes roam back to the dark open waters, the last few crew members swimming their way back and climbing up the vessel that had become your home.
The Golden Rose, the place where your parents had welcomed you years back and the place where you'd take your last breath. Years you've spend on the decks of the massive ship, nagged your father's crew with your endless mischievous acts, where you climbed the masts and high up in the crows nest whenever you were in trouble, a place where you learned to swim even before you knew how to walk, where you learned how to wield a sword and fire a gun, the place where you grew up, the place that carried you through the bad and the good. Your vessel, your home, you're Golden Rose.
"No– I don't accept this," your gaze, along with that of the crew landing on the soaked man climbing on board "my father will hear about this– I want to speak to the captain."
Struggling to get on his feet, the man stands up straight, bewildered and out of breath. James Buchanan Barnes you suppose, he isn't one of your crew at least. His eyes wander over the large group of people.
"Where are the men and where's the captain– put me back on land– you there!"
You follow his gaze as he point to the only man on board, the broad and tall steve rogers, the man you'd befriended when your mother had taken you of the ship to grow up on land with children alike after your father had passed away and she no longer wanted a life on the strong waves.
"You must be the captain!" Bucky says proudly as if he'd found the missing piece to a puzzle he'd been working on for years but the smile on his face falters quickly when the silence is replaced by loud laughter from every soul on board "What, what's so funny?"
"I'm not the captain, mate." Steve chuckles.
"Well where is he then, he and I have to have a word."
"You want to have a nice cup of tea with that, some rum perhaps?"
The corners of your lips tug into a grin as Bucky slowly turns around to meet your eyes and looks you up and down, not so subtle, and keeps his gaze on your breasts a little longer before they meet your gaze again. He blinks in surprise, lips slightly parted as a fish gasping for air as he tries to find the right words– you can hear the gears turn in his head. You wink before tearing your eyes off the man your girls had captured just moments ago and turn to your crew.
"Hoist the color and bring a spring upon ‘er, let's sail her back onto sea– we're going home!"
Best Bad Luck
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Wife Reader
Word Count: 1,870
Warning(s): Profanity, Angst, Dad!Bucky, Husband!Bucky
A/N: Masterlist. This will be a three part series posted a week apart. Part II scheduled for next week and part III for the week after that!
Summary: You two have everything. The life you’ve always wanted; the love, the beautiful girls. Everything except each other.
You look away from the window, having been gazing out to the backyard. The darkening sky finally gave way for the stars to sparkle for your entertainment. You looked toward him coming in across from you in the dim lighting of the kitchen.
“Like lights.” Bucky settled in across from you leaning back onto the island, crossing his arms over his chest. “Our daughters, they are one of a kind.” He laughs. “Sam asked if we could stop turning the porch lights off, it isn’t fair to all the bugs who wanna find their way around at night. It’s bullying the little guy, she says.”
You laughed quietly. “They had another bullying seminar at school today. She’s thinking of becoming a monitor.” He flicks his brow up curiously, in search of further explanation. “Reporting any bullying she sees to their homeroom teacher.”
“Oh god, she’s a teacher’s pet already.”
“Steve’s influence. She can’t wait to get home and call him about all the people she might turn in. How sad is that?”
“How was your day?” He offered, rounding the island to get a beer from the fridge. He walked around like he owned the place. He didn’t mean to but he knew where everything was supposed to be, where to put them when they weren’t. It was home, his home away from home, home when his ‘home’ wasn’t homey.
“Got asked on a date.”
Behind the open fridge door his muscles tightened for a moment, his grip on the handle of the fridge iron clad. “Yeah?” He loosened up, grabbed his beer, and shut the door. “You don’t date coworkers.”
“Coworkers’ friend. Met him while we were out at lunch. He said he liked my vibe.” You smiled, knowing that would amuse him.
Bucky chuckled, “Are you dating college kids? Little out of your age range, no?
“No, he just isn’t from the 30′s and ancient.” You teased.
He shrugged, bringing his bottle to his lips. “Touche.” When he lowers his head from the swig he sees your waited stare. He swallows. “You know you don’t have to ask my permission.”
“Hm.” You nodded, looking away twisting your lips to bite the inside of your cheek.
He shouldn’t have been ecstatic to see your obvious reluctance, but he was. “He a good guy?” He pushed deciding to at least appear supportive, even if he was as good as see-through trying to fool you. He places his now half-drunken beer down next to him, leaning backward on bent arms.
“Do you ever really know?” You asked, without looking up, swinging your bare feet, letting your heels hit the cabinet underneath you every once in a while.
“Do you like him?” He asked, knowing he didn’t want to know if it wasn’t the answer he anticipated. Two years into this arrangement and he still couldn’t stomach you having a crush.
“Not like I like you, unfortunately.” You admitted, finally looking up at him.
He takes a deep inhale mixed of relief and slight frustration. “Right.” He takes another swig, stepping forward closing the distance between the two of you. “You should be going on a date with me, then.” He offers, dipping his head low as if he was going to kiss you. An absolute overstep of the rules you had both been trying to enforce. You, always more than him.
“James...” You try, hoping your tone would be enough to deter him.
“You know what I’d say, so why did you tell me?”
“Because you’re my best friend and I don’t know how not to tell you my every waking thought.” He looked down watching your lips as they moved.
“You could lie.”
“Like I haven’t tried.” He hummed, knowing the feeling. His eyes travel up for a glance in your eyes and there’s a moment of weakness he suffers being lost in them. They were still soft and telling like they had always been and like clockwork the innate urge to spill his guts to you became so overwhelming that he succumbed. “Don’t go. He isn’t the one for you.”
“How was your day?” You try to divert the conversation sensing it going further off the rails, more than you could handle tonight.
“He doesn’t deserve you.”
“Buck...” You lower your head, defeated.
“Yeah I know,” He sighs, disappointed that he isn’t disappointed in himself for overstepping again. “I should go.” He finishes for you. He stops himself from kissing your lips, only pulls back to kiss your forehead.
“Good night,” He paused, realizing that’s where he needed to stop, just good night would have to do. He takes his time gathering his things; boots from the front door, his jacket that was hung over the couch, his will to live once he was looking at the outside of the door that had everything he wanted locked behind it. “Make sure you lock the doors.”
He stops turning back, beginning to put his things back down. “I should check the windows.” You tilt your head, and send him a stare, a soft but slightly stern reminder that you were privy to his ways, and that he had to try and do his part too. “Right,” He nodded, lips pursed “I checked those already.”
“Probably meet Steve at Rusty’s.” He tells you just as he puts his hand on the doorknob.
“Don’t drink and-”
“Don’t drink too much either. Have fun.”
One or the other, he thought. “I,” He blinks. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Fuck super hearing. Shit. In that moment he wished he didn’t have it, it would’ve spared him having to hear that and still walk away. Just a slight whisper over the creak of the door as he opened it, which he made a mental note to oil when he came over tomorrow, mournful as if you regretted feeling it.
I love you too.
Drinking a little tonight was officially off the table.
“How’s the wife?” Bucky questioned watching for his best friends answer in the reflection of the dingy mirror a few feet from them.
“The girlfriend who doesn’t want to get married, you mean? Oh, she’s great. Amazing. Dodging jewelry and commitment like bullets.” Steve answered taking the rest of his beer to the head, sliding it forward when he was finished.
“She isn’t dodging commitment. She’s committed enough if she’s been sleeping with that face every night.”
Steve let a curt puff of air out of his nose. “How are the kids? Y/N?”
Bucky quietly signaled to the bartender for another, maybe something a little stronger. “Girls are fine.” He paused, cracking his neck, wondering whether to continue. “Y/N got asked on a date.”
“Coworkers friend. Probably a nice guy, told her she shouldn’t go.” Steve didn’t say much but Bucky could feel the judgment, knowing Steve was thinking something along the lines of I thought you were at least going to let her try.
“I’m her best friend she says, she couldn’t lie to me if she wanted to. Asked her if the likes the guy, she says she doesn’t like anyone the way she likes me.” He laughs dryly. “That’s a bitch, isn’t it? I’m advising my wife to go on dates like her fucking wingman.” He sighed, throwing back the shot of dark liquor that a new bartender, who’d been working alongside the owner recently, slid across the counter, downing it in seconds, hissing at the familiar burn as he swallowed.
His eyes flittered up to the analog clock on the wall. 10:50. The girls would still be out unless one of them had a nightmare, which always seemed to affect both of them, a twin thing you and Bucky had decided. It would likely be Angel who was having a hard time coping with some episodes of SpongeBob. He figured you were just making your way into bed. You always stayed up to watch the stars as long as you could, and sometime around now was the cutoff before exhaustion was ensured for tomorrow.
He caught Steve doing the same, checking the clock, likely wondering what his girlfriend was at home doing and what he was missing. “Steve?” Bucky decided, standing up. “Go home. Just cause one of us is always miserable doesn’t mean you have to pretend to be. You’ve got a woman at home, that’s where you need to be.” He knows because he and Steve were two sides of the same coin and it’s where he would be if he could.
“I have something to tell you.”
“Yeah?” He digs a few tens out from the tattered wallet he freed from his jeans to slide over to Rusty who had appeared in place of the new guy. The old, miserable owner who probably shouldn’t even be serving drinks anymore.
“I put in for a new position, a permanent stay in the U.S, stationed at HQ.”
“You, not doing any more flying? I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“For you. I put in the request for you.”
Bucky scoffs, thinking it’s a joke “Go to hell.” He said, brushing him off beginning towards the door looking back to see Steve still sitting.
“I’ve been watching you kill yourself for the past two years. You’ve got everything you’ve ever wanted. A wife, two beautiful girls and you are the most miserable man on the planet and you hate what you do. You have the best bad luck, man.”
“You’re my friend not my therapist. Not my fucking manager either.” He chided. Steve was trekking on grounds Bucky didn’t have to wherewithal to guide him out of patiently. He was already made painfully aware of his situation once tonight, he wasn’t in the mood for another no matter how well intentioned.
“That’s why I know if someone doesn’t tell you this, you’ll keep going.” He turned his body completely toward Bucky. “You’ve done your part, you’ve served. Saved millions of people a hundred times over. Those debts you have, they’re paid in full.”
He scoffed, “Stark think so?”
“This isn’t about Stark-“
“Does he think so? Does he think I’ve made amends for killing his parents? You tell me if any of them think that.”
“You’re going to be fucking miserable until the day you die.” Steve bursts. “You’re going to watch everyone you love move on. Decades will pass and you’ll be in the same spot, on this same barstool going home to that same empty apartment. Your kids will be grown, Y/N will have married someone-“
“You shut the fuck up,” Bucky warned, stepping forward menacingly.
“- who won’t fling her around like she’s on a goddamned string. You’ll drink yourself to death, or try your hardest to. You’ll outlive Rusty, for gods sake. But you have an out. An out you’ve worked for, earned and that you deserve. That your kids deserve. That the woman who loves you, who took the oath with you on that altar deserves.”
He had too many years dealing with the highs and lows of Bucky to argue with him. Steve knew him like the back of his hand, so he wouldn’t even try. There were conclusions Bucky would only come to himself, when he decided to, no matter how obvious.
He rose from the barstool, jacket in hand. “Think about it. You’ve got a week or so.” Head hunt low in disappointment, he lightly bumped Bucky’s shoulder as he passed. “Thanks for the drink.”
Bucky threw himself back down on a stool, slamming his fist down on the counter in anger, roughly bringing his hand through his hair, he waited until Steve’s form faded out of his peripheral.
“Where’s the damn whiskey in this shithole you call a bar, Rusty?”