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#bucky fanfiction
dilemmaontwolegs · 2 days ago
Note
Hey Ollie ! I don’t know if you’ve written something like this before but how about you being Bucky’s secret girlfriend during his FATWS era ? Secret texts and calls , sneaking into the others house and then one day Sam comes by his apartment and you open the door , rubbing your sleepy eyes and wearing only Bucky’s shirt . And then Bucky is heard from inside the house telling you to go back to bed or something like that
The Secret Life of Bucky Barnes
Setting: This during Falcon and the Winter Soldier starting at episode 4: The Whole World is Watching. Warnings: 18+ only, implied smut, canon-typical violence WC: 3.6k
Bucky Masterlist
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The late night news coming in from Latvia had been unsettling to watch, the sight of the blood staining Captain America's shield leaving you ill. But at least you had caught a glimpse of Bucky in the background and, aside from looking exhausted, he was in one piece. You were still sitting with your bleary eyes glued to the telly when your phone went off and you unlocked it in an instant to see Bucky’s name on the screen.
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You could hardly sleep as you watched the red lights on your alarm change with each passing minute. Even though you knew it would be hours before Bucky landed on home soil you rose at dawn and made sure everything in your house was clean and tidy. After that chore was done you worried that he hadn’t had a proper meal since he left and made a quick trip to the grocery store. You got more than enough food for just the two of you and busied yourself baking until you heard the backdoor open behind you.
You spun around as your excitement peaked, cake mixture dripping from your whisk to the floor before you tossed it in the sink. Your attempt to keep yourself busy had gone too well and you forgot to leave time to get cleaned up, flour dusting your clothes and your lips dark with the berries you had snack on while baking. Still, Bucky leant against the door frame with a smile that sent tingles spreading from your fingers to your toes.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He dropped his bag from his shoulder as he stepped into your kitchen, his large frame making it seem even smaller before he engulfed you in a hug that lifted you off your feet. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too.” You said as you wrapped your arms around his neck and shared the sweet taste of the berry cupcake mix on your lips. “I stress baked.”
He chuckled as he looked around the kitchen that was full of slices, muffins and cakes. “I see that…and I am not complaining.”
You saw him eyeing a favourite of his and nodded your head towards it. “Go on, it’s all for you.”
His eyes fluttered closed with a moan as his first bite almost consumed the whole slice and it was then you noticed the heavy bags under his lashes and you brushed over the dark rings with your thumbs. “You need some sleep, love.”
“I couldn’t sleep without you, I worry about you when I’m not with you.” He sighed before reaching back and locking the door he had come through. “And, you left the back door unlocked again.”
“I left it unlocked for you.”
You loved how protective he was over you, how much he cared for your safety. It was the reason no one knew about you. You wouldn’t usually be one to sneak around but this was paramount to surviving in a world that seemed to have bad guys at every turn. You knew that being associated with Bucky would bring a threat to your life but you loved him and would try anything to be with him.
“I have a key, doll. You should keep everything locked up. Please? I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”
You melted from his blue puppy dog eyes and nodded reluctantly. “Okay, I promise.”
Whatever he was about to say was lost with a yawn and you nudged him towards the hallway. “Go lay down, I’ll just pack this away and come join you.”
He turned and caught you by the hips, stealing a kiss from you as you stumbled towards him. “Be quick, I have plans for you.”
You watched his eyes trail down your body longingly and you were almost willing to leave the kitchen in a mess at the heated stare. Common sense won as he stepped back and swiped his bag off the floor to go to your room, the loss of his touch making the decision easier. 
It was only a few minutes before you were satisfied the bare minimum cleaning had been done and you double checked the doors were locked before stepping into your room. Bucky looked like an angel as he lay across your bed, his bare chest rising and falling with even breaths, sleep erasing the frown lines that were almost permanently etched into his skin during his waking hours. You were careful to be quiet as you took off your dirty clothes and slipped in beside him, his arms blindly searching for you and pulling you to his chest.
“Love you.”
“I love you too Bucky.” You whispered back, unsure if he even heard you as he continued to sleep. “I’m glad you are home.”
--
As quick as he arrived he was gone again. It wasn’t unusual but it still left a void in your life that was only momentarily filled with secret calls when he had a minute alone or some short texts to check in on each other. You knew he was scared, though he would never admit it, but he was about to face something he could never be prepared for: Sam. 
Bucky had admitted before he left that maybe he had been too quick to condemn his colleague for giving up the shield. In the safe confines of your bedroom he confessed it was his own fears bleeding over and affecting his decisions and actions. Now he was in Louisiana, hopefully making things right, if he could find the right words and let his high defensive walls down for just a second.
Even though you shouldn’t have had your phone on at work, you always did when Bucky was out of town. It was a nervous habit but you had to keep notified of what was happening - push notifications coming through if anything was tagged Bucky Barnes or the Winter Soldier. Hearing the vibrations on your desk you grabbed the device and grinned as you saw it was a photo.
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Bucky knew your work schedule and paced around the pier, his phone almost being crushed in his palm as he counted down the minutes until he could call you. Everyone was so busy with their own problems that they didn’t notice him disappear into the treeline for some privacy. 
“Hey babe.” You answered on the first ring, taking your break in your office so you could keep the door locked. “How’s everything going?”
“It’s…tense.” He sighed after a pause. “I’m sorry, doll, I’ve been wanting to call and apologise for those texts since I sent ‘em, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
“It’s fine, Bucky, I know this trip has stressed you out.” You shrugged even though he couldn’t see you. “Are you making progress?”
“It’s not fine and I’ll make it up to you when I get home.” He promised before kicking at the rocks at his feet. “Things with Sam are, I don’t know. He’s not that bad, and we even started to talk while fixing his family boat.”
“That’s good.” You perked up, a smile growing on your face with hope. “Progress, no matter how small, is progress. Can we video call when you get to your hotel?”
“I’ll let you know how things go, I may have implied I didn’t have anywhere to go…”
You laughed and slapped a hand over your mouth as you attracted the attention of your co-workers outside your office. “You sly dog. As much as I want to see you, I hope you have a fun sleepover. Don’t stay up too late, you know how grumpy you get when you are tired.”
“I don’t get grumpy.” He scoffed with a chuckle. “I’m always grumpy.”
“I know a few times when you are definitely not grumpy.” You teased sultrily, missing him even more in that moment before realising the time. “Shit, I gotta get back to work.”
“Of course,” he groaned as his cock stirred to life, “leave me with that image…”
“Sorry baby,” you giggled, “I’m sure you can handle it, with a tight fist.”
“Thanks, doll, thanks a lot.” He grumbled but still managed to laugh along with you. “Go to work, I love you.”
“Love you too, big guy.”
His moan echoed in your ear as you ended the call and tried to focus on your work but your mind kept drifting back to Bucky and you wondered if he had taken care of himself, the thought taking your breath away.
Things seemed to be looking up between Sam and Bucky. They were spending time training together and fixing the boat that Bucky rarely had time to keep you updated. You wouldn’t complain about that thought, despite missing the smallest of interactions, you were just glad they were getting along. Bucky needed someone level headed like Sam to keep him out of trouble, and from what you understood, Sam needed someone reckless like Bucky to break the rules when necessary.
You were just packing up your laptop and getting ready to leave work when your phone vibrated. You had told Bucky you would call him when you got home so a knot in your stomach tightened at the sight of his name. He wouldn’t have messaged before you got home unless it was something that couldn’t wait so you scrambled to open the message, your fingers shaking at the million possible reasons things could be bad.
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You felt sick as you swung your bag over your shoulder and raced towards the elevators.
“Marie!” You called out as the elevator arrived and you noticed the cleaner was at the other end of the empty offices. “Marie! We have to go!”
She pulled her earphones out and looked around confused until she saw you waving your hands towards the elevator.
“Miss Y/L/N? Are you alright?” She frowned, walking slowly across the office floor.
“I’m fine but we have to go. Now.” You urged. “There’s some shit going down and I’ve been told to get out of Manhattan.”
“Should I call someone?” She asked as she stopped and looked around worriedly. “Did you skip your meds or something?”
“I’m not crazy, Marie.” You sighed and realised she wasn’t going to leave without some proof. “Please do not tell but I’m dating Bucky Barnes and if he said Manhattan isn’t safe, we should believe him.”
She scoffed and went to put her earphones back in but you stepped closer and showed her your phone. The image on your homescreen was of a picture Bucky had taken with his longer reach, your arms wrapped around his neck, eyes closed as he kissed you. There was no mistaking who it was, the shiny black metal of his vibranium arm holding the phone up for the shot.
“Holy shit.” Marie exhaled. “Thats…”
“Yeah, now let's get out of here.” You pulled her into the elevator before the door attempted to close again and slammed the button for the parking level your space was on. “Do you have a car?”
“Uh yeah, it’s over there.” Stammered at your rushed pace.
“Good, get in it and go straight home or over the bridges. Wherever you want, just not here.” You made sure she was heading to her car before you got in yours and made your way over the Williamsburg Bridge into Brooklyn.
After firing a quick message to Bucky, once you were safely locked in his apartment, you waited with bated breath for the delivered label turn to read and took a seat on his sofa to watch the news. The hours passed by painfully slowly as you kept your eyes glued to the screen waiting for a breaking news banner to pass by with some information. And then it did.
You gasped as you saw a fight unfolding, on the screen and the caption about hostages being taken from the Global Repatriation Council, right next door to the building that you worked in. You swore you caught a glimpse of Bucky’s motorcycle crumpled against a barrier before the camera panned to see him falling over the edge of a construction zone that was 15 stories below your office. 
“Come on, baby, where are you?” You murmured to the cushion clutched against your chest. 
Your eyes scanned every inch of the flatscreen looking for Bucky before the news cut to a different camera pointing to the sky. The small part of you that wasn’t consumed with worry about Bucky felt ecstatic at seeing Sam fighting with the shield he had feared had a history too heavy for him to bear, pride radiating from chest to send chills across your skin.
The crippling fear for Bucky crept back in the longer he was missing from the screen, explosions and fires erupting around the city, the screams of New Yorkers running for their lives filling you with dread. On and on the assault went until the cameras found Bucky, his face screwed up in concentration as he fought with all his strength to free the hostages.
A shout of joy filled his small living room as you jumped off the couch and cheered for him but it was short lived when you saw him look up to the sky. The cameras followed his stare and zoomed in on Sam but you were still stuck with the last image, the fondness and joy radiating from Bucky’s face. You could only imagine how quick that feeling would have faded when he saw what you did, Sam landing with the limp body of a young woman in his arms.
Tears burned your eyes as you listened to Sam’s speech, you and the entire nation, if not the world, at the edge of your seat watching history unfold. The truth hurt to hear but it needed to be said and you prayed that the Global Repatriation Council members heeded Sam’s words and tried to do better.
You were still sitting at the edge of your seat watching the aftermath when the door creaked open and Bucky dragged his feet over the threshold. Dust matted his hair and another one of his jackets were ruined but whatever scrapes he had got were already healed.
He turned to close the door, taking his time sliding the deadbolt into place while he collected himself. You closed the distance and wrapped your arms around his waist as he pressed his forehead to the door and sighed heavily. His warm hand enclosed over yours with a small reassuring pat before he stood up straighter and turned around.
“I’m alright sweetheart.” He promised as he traced the dried lines that remained of your tears.
“You are far from alright. You look like you’ve been to hell and back.” You eased his jacket off his shoulders and tossed it to the side table, more debris falling from the folds of it. “You need a hot shower and then bed.”
You were stunned by the bright smile he managed to produce before he bundled you in his arms and crushed you to his chest.
“How did I get so lucky?” He murmured as he kissed your forehead. “You’re too good for me, you know that.”
“I’m the lucky one, James.” You argued as you lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. “You’re too good for this world.”
Slipping your hand in his, you led the way through his apartment to the bathroom off his bedroom and turned the shower on to warm up. When you turned back you saw Bucky staring at his reflection intently and he gripped the vanity edge. 
“Steve was right about Sam.” You weren’t sure if he was talking to you or himself so you let him muse aloud as you rubbed his back, the room finally beginning to steam and erased his fixture in the mirror. “He’ll make a good Captain America.”
“I think you’re right. From what I know, he was a good judge of character. I mean, look at the people he called his friends, they are all pretty amazing people. Especially this one special man he was extra close to: handsome, strong and chivalrous…” You tiptoed so that you rested your chin on his shoulder to see his smile growing. “Thor.”
You squealed as he spun and scooped you up, your laughter echoing in the tiny bathroom as he stepped under the spray of water while you were still completely clothed. He carefully placed your feet back down on the wet tiles and wiped the water from your face as he laughed away the cloud that had followed him all night. 
Sobering up, he placed a chaste kiss on your lips. “I love you.” 
“I love you too.” You raised your hands up, your business clothes clinging to your body. “Now get me out of these, please.”
His eyes darkened and he licked his lips as his hands grabbed the fabric and tensed to tear it apart. “With pleasure.”
Your body ached in the most delicious way as you woke up to the sounds of city traffic and the shower running. You were used to the white noise of the city so you found it odd that you had woken at all, especially after the late night spent requainting your body with Bucky’s. Everything was hazy as your head begged to lay back down on the pillow but a soft knock at the front door kept you from falling back to sleep. 
Crawling over the bed, you grabbed a shirt of Buckys and stumbled your way through the living room, tugging the material as far down your thighs as you could. Passing the kitchen you heard the sound of the drier rattling around and smiled at the thought of Bucky cleaning your clothes after soaking them in the shower just a few hours earlier. You reached for the door, forgetting to check the eyehole as your head was still thinking it was in bed, and opened it to find the confused face of Sam. 
If you had been fully awake you would have laughed as he comically looked between you and the number on the door before looking down the hall to the level number and finally back to you.
“Uhh, I’m looking for my friend Bucky, but he…must have moved.” 
Sam’s eyes flew wide open as he looked over your shoulder and saw your boyfriend towelling off his hair, a pair of jeans hanging low on his hips and his chest bare because the shirt he had been looking for was on you. You rubbed your eyes that were irritated by the lights and the sleep that still clung to them, a yawn escaping too before Bucky’s hand came to rest on your lower back.
“Go back to sleep sweetheart.” He said gently as he reined in the spike of fear that came with knowing that in less than 12 hours two people had found out about your relationship. “We can talk about this when you wake up.”
You nodded, kissing him without a second thought, then gave Sam a small smile and a tired wave before heading back to bed. Even with the bedroom door closed you could still hear Sam’s cheerful congratulations followed quickly by what you could only compare to an interrogation before you drifted off back to sleep. 
When you woke again you felt far more refreshed and found your trousers and underwear dry and folded beside the bed. You already knew your blouse would not have been salvageable but Bucky was used to you stealing his shirts, finding comfort in his scent that lingered in the material. 
“-a celebration, bring her along.” 
You caught the end of Sam’s sentence as you stepped out of the bedroom and Bucky’s eyes darted to you. 
“I can’t risk anyone else finding out about her, Sam.” He sighed, opening his arms so you could take a seat on his lap since there were only two seats at the table. “I won’t put her in danger like that.”
“What’s this about?” You asked Sam. 
“We’re having a party in Delacroix this weekend, I was hoping the two of you would come. Would be nice to get to know you, and how you managed to tame this old dog.”
You chucked at the affection tone to his ribbing. “Not even I could tell you that, sorry, I ask myself that most days.”
Sam laughed heartily and placed his empty mug onto the table before standing up. “I better get going, I’m already meant to be on my way to Washington. The politics never end.”
“It was nice to officially meet you, Sam.” You said as you stood so Bucky could too. 
“You too, Y/N.” He nodded, clapping Bucky on the shoulder. “Think about it, a secret this big isn’t going to stay a secret forever. My advice, don’t miss out on things you could be doing together out of fear, life’s too short man. And, I’ve always got your back if you need me.”
Bucky nodded weakly but you could see the cogs turning in his head, the idea planted and your stomach flipped at the thought of having your relationship thrust into the spotlight. There was fear, of course there was fear, but the palpitations in your heart weren’t that. There was a hype you didn’t know you wanted, the ability to go out to dinner, to hold hands as you walk down the street. They were suddenly all the things you wanted and Bucky saw that reflected on your face.
“Hey, Sam.” Bucky called out down the hall, Sam turning back intrigued by the hesitant tone. “We’ll be there.”
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geeky-politics-46 · 2 months ago
Text
Deserve Better
Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Another blow to your confidence tips you over the edge when a guy ditches you. Bucky is determined to show you that you derserve so much better.
Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, language, alcohol use, negative self image, general filth
More of this story than I would like to admit is based on real experience, at least all the crappy stuff. Alcohol was involved while writing. I suck at spelling & grammar but correct things as I find them. Hope you enjoy the results of my shitty evening.
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Well this felt really pathetic. If you started crying could this count as a temper tantrum not a breakdown? You didn't really get stood up or dumped. Your friends with benefits bailed on you... Again.
You weren't mad. He had given you good reasons. Granted you had no idea if they were true or not, but if they were they were reasons you would have cited too.
You were diaappointed though. You had pretty much given up on dating, it seemed the only guys who were ever interested were nut jobs or people you would have to be paid to touch, & you didn't do one night stands. They just didn't feel safe. So this had been your last chance to get laid for a few months. You had also passed up the chance to go to a Rangers game to meet up with your FWB.
You sat waiting for your to-go order running through the options in your head, quickly realizing your best option was once again your vibrator. You inwardly sighed as you threw down the rest of your gin & tonic way too fast. You realized you were actually sick of fucking yourself, the thought of another night with your own hand & even your favorite toy made you groan, & not in a good way.
The waiter dropped your bag next to you & you paid for your drink. You tipped an extra dollar since he was nice enough to ignore that you probably looked like you were about to cry when you had ordered it.
As you were pulling a couple ones out of your wallet a cute-ish seeming guy came in by himself. Clearly from out of town with a slight European accent. You figured what the hell? & said hi pulling out your flirty yet coy smile. He totally ignored you.
Well that was close enough to 3 strikes you're out. You tilted your glass as far back as you could, hoping for even the tiniest amount of gin, & grabbed you bag of food. You headed back to the tower with your tail tucked between your legs, pity tears pickling at your eyes, & your new lingerie you had bought just because feeling like it was an irritant on your skin.
At least it was windy. You could play off the stray tear as being caused by that or picking at your mascara. Your only stop was a drugstore where you grabbed a bottle of wine.
As you stepped into the elevator you opened the twist top on the glass bottle & let the first couple real tears fall. All your life you had never felt good enough, pretty enough. You were never anyone's first choice. Now you weren't even good enough to just screw & leave.
You didn't think you were asking a lot, you really didn't care if this ever became anything beyond sex. But for the first time in your life, at nearly 32, you were finally having good sex. The thought of going another 4 years, your longest dry spell, untouched made you want to throw yourself off the roof.
Thank God the elevator doors opened & pulled you from your own destructive thoughts. There was no one in the living room or the kitchen & it was basically silent, because of course it was. It was a Friday night & everyone had their own things to do. So you wandered into the kitchen grabbed a fork from the utensil drawer & the new pack of AA batteries from the junk drawer.
Sinking into the couch you displayed your sad little picnic on the coffee table in front of you. Burger & fries, screw top wine bottle already part way empty, & batteries that were now your date for the night. You collapsed forward onto your own thighs letting your arms wirelessly drape over so your knuckles brushed the floor & sighed in complete defeat before muttering a "just kill me" into your leggings.
Sure you wanted a relationship, not necessarily with your FWB, but you were also very aware that beggers can't be choosers. You were a begger & you always had been, which is why you were where you were now. Horny, a little drunk, & on the verge of tears.
"But what if I kinda like having you around?" A deep but light hearted voice answered you softly from the hallway. Clearly trying not to startle you. Ending his statement with a chuckle, seemingly to apologize for eavesdropping.
With a groan you lifted your upper body back up to a seated position before flopping back into back of the couch. Looking up at the man who had spoke you felt your heart lift slightly. You should have guessed Bucky would be there. He wssn't a big fan of going out on the weekends, there were too many people out.
He cautiously moved forward, not 100% sure if he was welcome or not. You noticed his hesitancy & moved a few inches to your right signalling it was fine to join you. To reinforce your comfort with him joining you you told him "sorry Buck, if I knew you were here I would have gotten you food, but you can have mine if you want. I'm not that hungry anymore. Just don't touch my wine."
You forced a small laugh past your lips & tried not to come off too sad. As he sat down next to you, Bucky wasn't buying it. He could see the pain in your eyes. He wanted you to tell him what was wrong. He wanted you to tell him everything.
He knew you had plans tonight with that guy, the one that he really didn't like, but now you were here with tears in your eyes. He wanted to punch him for putting that look on your face. You had told Bucky you had no intention of getting serious with this guy, that you were friends from forever ago, that it just made you feel good someone was actually interested in you that way. You said you were so sick of dating & heartbreak, you just wanted to have fun. Well you didn't look like you were having much fun, & it didn't look like you felt particularly good. That tore him up inside.
You curled your legs up underneath you & pulled the blanket off the back of the couch onto your shoulders. You tried to ignore the way Bucky kept glancing at you as he picked at the fries. Every couple minutes he would hold one out to you & you would accept it. Eventually you softened enough that you finally said with a little bit of a shaky breath "he bailed on me at the last minute, again."
All Bucky could do was nod in understanding & turn to look at you. You were still staring at your hands, tears sparkling at the corners of your eyes. Finally letting them fall as you spoke again.
"I'm now consistently getting blown off by my friend with benefits. I can't even keep a guy interested when the only thing I'm asking him for is sex. How pathetic is that? I'm not even good enough to just be a regular fuck buddy for someone I guess."
You choked back a small sob. It wasn't about that particular guy, it was about all of them. How they had all beaten you down & made you feel worthless.
You had confided in Bucky one night after a particularly terrible date how you hadn't even gone on a date until college. That you had spent so much time watching all the other girls in high school get asked on dates, go to dances, & fall in love. While you were left to wonder what was so wrong with you. It's a wonder you had managed to lose your virginity at 19. Especially considering only one other guy had even so much as kissed you before that.
You had spent all your life being the girl who felt passed over, so when the opportunity of having a friend with benefits opened up you jumped at it. Not that you were overly attracted to the guy, which in a sex only relationship was a good thing, but you felt desired & that felt great. It was also the best sex, & really the only good sex, you'd ever had. So you put up with all the little inequalities & things.
Bucky wanted to grab you & hold you. Tell you how much time he spent thinking about you. Wanting you. How you deserved so much more. How he wanted to spend the rest of his life trying to give that to you.
The straw the finally broke the camel's back was when you stood up to go to your room. The wine bottle now mostly empty but most of the food still untouched. You shrugged off the blanket as you got up & started to wiggle your shoulders & reach back behind you with Bucky watching on in confusion.
"You wanna know the really pathetic thing? If it weren't for the fact that he's the only guy who's ever made me cum I don't think I'd put up with it... Or spend the money. There's $75 I'm never gonna see again." You chuckled in absurdity as you pulled your bra out through your sleeve & let the metallic maroon lace dangle from your fingers.
You said goodnight & shuffled away to your room dragging the see through bra behind you, leaving Bucky a jumble of emotions. On one hand he genuinely cared for you. In truth he was head over heels for you, & he didn't want to leave you feeling so down on yourself. You were kind, & smart, & funny, & my god you were so sexy.
He was also furious that not only had all these other guys treated you so badly, apparently they couldn't even mange to please you either. You were overdo probably at least a couple thousand orgasms & Bucky would happily give his right arm to be the one to remedy that.
Between your admission that none of your worthless ex's could make you cum & pulling your bra off like some dirty magic trick Bucky was also now really turned on. He didn't want to seem like he was taking advantage of you, especially since he really wanted you to be his girl, but he wanted you so bad right now. He looked at the table trying to formulate what to do.
The batteries. You had probably meant to take them with you. He could bring them to you. Although if his plan didn't work & he had to listen to you play with yourself with that fucking toy tonight thru the wall he might just explode. His hand lingered over the packet, it was now or never.
Before he could second guess himself he snatched the packet & quickly walked down the hall to your door. Knocking on the door before his brain could register the sound of the shower from the other side. He cringed as he heard you sniffle fumbling toward the door, cursing as you tripped over something before opening it
"Sorry for interrupting. You... You forgot these." He extended his vibranium hand & you noticed the batteries. Truth be told you had forgotten about them completely. You had been wrapped up in thinking about the man that now stood in front of you. You adored Bucky, but you didn't want to jeopardize your friendship when you were sure he didn't feel the same way. Secretly you dreamed of him whisking you off your feet like your very own Prince Charming, but you wouldn't take the risk of losing him completely. 
Now here you were, with your dream guy standing at your door. In your grungy sweatshirt, fancy new very tiny lace panties, & mascara tinted tears on your face. You moved back from the door & sat on the edge of your bed pulling your hands into your sleeves & staring at your fingers. You let the dark thoughts take over.
"Thanks you can just throw them on my nightstand. Umm.... Can I ask you a question Buck? As a guy... What's wrong with me? Why am I so unwantable? What makes me so unsexy? It's not even about him, I just..."
You finally broke. Dissolving into sobs completely forgetting the shower running. You held one hand to your face, trying to hide, & wrapped your other right around your waist.
Bucky's heart shattered & he scrambled into the room shutting the door behind him. Dropping to kneel in front of you, sliding your legs apart to slot himself between them without even thinking. He grabbed your hands away from your body & cradled your face in his hands. Quietly shushing you & kissing the tears away from your cheeks. Trying his best to soothe & calm you.
"Hey, hey, hey. Look at me sweetheart. There is not a god damn thing wrong with you, y/n. It's all those fucking guys that have something wrong with them. Okay? I wish I knew what to tell you to make you believe this, but you are so fucking sexy & incredible. Any guy that doesn't spend every moment of everyday wanting you is insane or stupid. I can't stand to hear you talk like this, watch you feel like this. I wish you could see what I see."
He pulled you flush to his chest & let you wrap your arms tight around his neck, fingernails digging into his shoulders. He let you heave & squeak out a few more sobs into his neck, complete with several hiccups & hurried anxious breaths. He rocked you side to side, gently kissed your head, & tried to hold back his own tears. His heart ached for you, to love you, & he had let you down by even letting you feel this way in the first place.
Your breathing slowly leveled out & your arms released their death grip. Bucky let you pull back from his chest & pressed his forehead to your's. Your eyes puffy & your cheeks red. He had to tell you how he loved you. He had to show you how amazing & beautiful you were. Hopefully you would let him. Even if it was only for the night, he was determined to make you feel like the goddess you were to him.
Your soft sniffles continued & your eyes were still closed, but the tears had now subsided. He let his hands slide from your waist to the outside of your thighs rubbing his thumbs up & down against your soft skin. He suddenly became aware that he was on his knees between your bare legs, a place he thought he would only dream of ever getting to be. He started to speak & he knew there was no stopping.
"Listen I know that you are in a bad frame of mind right now, & I need you to know that I would never take advantage of you. If you tell me to leave I will. Just say the word. But... I want you to know that I mean every word okay? You are the sexiest woman in the world & you drive me absolutely insane. You have no idea how bad I want you. All you have to do is smile at me & I turn to goo. You can be dressed up or in this ratty sweatshirt & all I want to do is take you to bed & worship you. When you pulled that trick with your bra out there, oh my god, I nearly passed out with how fast my blood left my brain."
That statement made you giggle. It was only then that you realized you were holding your breath. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. This couldn't be happening. It was too perfect. You let your hands rest on the back of his neck & play with his short chestnut brown hair. The muscles of your stomach clenched & your heart jumped when his fingertips pressed into your hips just below the thin waistband of your panties.
"It's not just physically either. I mean you are fucking gorgeous but God I love all of you so much, y/n. Your sense of humor, the way you think, the way you get along with everyone. I can't believe I'm actually telling you this, but I love you & I have loved you for so long. It has killed me watching you be with all those idiots. The fact that they made you feel this way, & didn't even put your pleasure first, makes me want to rip them limb from limb. You deserve so much better than them, you deserve so much better than me. You deserve the entire fucking universe at your feet. Right now I don't care if I'm making the biggest mistake ever & if you never want to even look at me after this, but please even just for the night, let me show you how much I love you & how incredible you are. Please just let me make love to you. Let me make you feel good. Let me try to give you what you deserve."
Your eyes had opened at some point during his confession & you were now staring deep into his gentle blue eyes. You bit your bottom lip as you gazed at him looking for any hint of hesitation or lies. You found none.
"Please y/n, just say something. You're killing me here." He pleaded, trying to steal his feelings. Now fearing the worst.
You moved your face just a little bit closer to his & began to pull his body into you. "Yes please Bucky. Make love to me."
Your mouths finally met in a soft but passionate kiss. His plump lips running over yours slowly caressing your skin. His tongue slow slid against your bottom lip asking to deepen the kiss, to let him in. You quickly obliged & he began to massage your tongue with his.
As you pulled apart you both panted out of breath. Pressing light kisses on each other & nuzzling your faces together it was your turn to confess.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that. I love you too Buck. I just thought there was no way you could love me."
He moved his hands to grip your ass & yanked you forward on the mattress. Groaning as he felt your bare ass cheeks separate by the delicate lace g-string. "I'm gonna spend all night showing you how much I love you, y/n. I'm gonna make you cum so many times you will forget anyone else exists."
He smashed his lips to yours & began clawing at the plush flesh of your hips. He pulled your sweatshirt over your head leaving you in just your panties. He dropped his gaze to look down at your body & inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of your warm body & your now apparent arousal for him. The sound of him making you nipples stiffen in anticipation.
Bucky began placing hungry open mouthed kisses up & down your neck & throat as you wrapped your legs around his waist making his hips start to grind against you. You could feel his large hard bulge through the rough material of his jeans & the feeling of it only spurred you on. Your hands scraping up his side's to pull his shirt off.
"You are so sexy Bucky." You marveled at his body as you ran your hands up & down his chest. He smiled & sweetly kissed your lips.
"You're sexier baby. Now, since you've already got the shower running, why don't we go clean up before we run out of hot water. Plus if we keep going like this I'm gonna rip these tiny fucking panties right off of you, & if I remember right you said they weren't cheap."
Moaning at his suggestion you looked at him through lust heavy eyelids, now blissfully unaware of your smudged makeup. You nodded enthusiastically & squeaked in surprise as he effortlessly hoisted you up off the mattress, his hands under your thighs & carried you into the bathroom that was now clouded with steam.
He gently lowered you to your feet. Taking his time as his hands caressed slowly up your body. He looked at you like you were a precious piece of art. Your mouth fell open & you stood speechless at the man before you who in a single moment in a single touch had nurtured your heart, your mind, & your body in a way no one ever had.
He softly pressed his lips to yours as he pulled your hair loose & brushed it back. He started making his way down your body. Pressing kiss after kiss to your skin that was now buzzing like a live wire.
First he kissed your neck & whispered in your ear how beautiful you were. Then your collarbone, the top of each breast & between them. He let his lips ghost over your nipples without providing direct stimulation. He chuckled as you whined in protest & tried to angle a nipple back towards his mouth.
He pressed his face to the center of your ribcage & gently scolded you, "not just yet babydoll. I wanna take my time with you." Once he had reached your hips he kissed the top of each hipbine before placed a kiss right onto your mound over your panties.
Hooking his thumb under each side strap he gazed up & you for permission to take them off. You let your hands thread through his hair & whispered "please Buck".
He gave you a lopsided slightly goofy grin & said "as incredibly sexy as these are doll, & I definitely want to see you in the whole set sometime, I think you will be fucking delicious with them off." With that he slowly slid them down your legs, pausing momentarily as the wet fabric separated from your slick pussy. A groan was pulled deep from somewhere in his chest as he got his first good view of your sex. You were soaked.
"So wet doll. Can't wait to taste you later. All this really for me?" He inhaled your sweet scent & had to fight the urge to devour you right then & there. He dropped your panties to the floor & you stepped out of them as he stood back up bringing his hand to pop the button & pull down the fly of his jeans.
You took his hands & moved them to your waist before taking over where he had left off. Sliding your hands inside the denim fabric at his sides & catching your thumb in the waistband of his boxer briefs you tilted your head up & whispered into his throat. "All for you Buck. Just for you."
Placing a wet sucking kiss on his Adam's apple as you pushed the fabric of both layers down his muscular frame. Feeling the resistance of his hard cock against the elastic band of his underwear, you dropped your head down to see him as he sprung free. You both gasped in unison, him at the delicious bit of friction & you at the magnificent sight of him bare before you.
Dragging your fingers across his low belly you let yourself run your hand along the underside of his thick cock before stroking him up & down several times. As if reading your mind he leaned down to whisper in your ear "All for you babydoll. All because of you." & placed a kiss on the sweet spot under your lobe. 
Relishing each other's touch for a moment longer you stood on the balls of your feet & sunk into his kiss once more. As an anxious as you were for him to take you straight to bed you did want to wash the lingering stress from your body. So you reluctantly pulled apart & stepped into the shower under the warm water with Bucky's firm body pressed up behind you.
Between the heat of the water & the comfort of Bucky's arms around you, your muscles melted & you immediately felt even better. You grabbed your face wash & proceeded to scrub the remainder of ruined makeup for your eyes & cheeks.
Bucky's lips had yet to stop dragging along the skin of your neck, shoulders, & upper back. One flesh palm & one vibranium held tight against the curve of your soft stomach. If this was any other man you would cringe & move his hands away from your most insecure spot, but with Bucky it felt right. You extended your arms backwards to give his thighs a squeeze, telling him to soften his grasp momentarily so could reach to grab the body wash.
He gladly obliged & grabbed the bottle from your delicate fingers. He deftly flipped the cap & squirted a line of gel down the center of your torso. Your hands met & spread the slick substance over your frame in tandem. The heady scent of berries, patchouli, rose, & amber quickly enveloped you both adding to the eroticism.
His large hands groped & kneaded your breasts. For the first time his fingers began to toy with your nipples. Swirling the pads of his fingers around them before gently pinching them. The sweet sudden pressure caused your hips to buck back grinding your ass against him. His now leaking head making contact with your low back & his shaft sliding between your cheeks.
The touch of him so needy against you sparked a flame in your chest & you spun around in his arms to face him. You spent several more minutes running the fragrant suds over each other, seemingly trying to memorize the curves & planes of each other's bodies. Lips locked in heated contact.
It was you who reached the end of your rope first, pulling him under the stream to rinse you both as you began to beg him for more.
"Please James, I can't wait any longer. I need you to fuck me."
Between hearing you call him by his real name, & your desperate plea for him, his own resolve snapped. Quickly turning off the water & grabbing a towel to hurriedly dry you both. He picked you up once more, your legs wrapping around him & your dripping cunt pressed to his abdomen, & he carried you to your bed.
He laid you down on the soft blankets like you were a priceless piece of porcelain & gingerly lowered his large frame to rest on top of you. Your legs spreading open to slot his body flush against you.
He let his weight balance on his vibranium forearm & ran his flesh fingers over the curves of your right side. Cutting across the crease of your hip he stopped just short of where you body was screaming for his touch. He locked eyes with you one more time to confirm that  you still wanted this. That you still wanted him. As if there was any stopping the cascade of need for each other that had been set in motion.
You brushed your thumb across his cheek & grinned with a single nod. With that his fingers finally slid past your mound & down to caress the supple wet lips of your pussy. Initially ghosting over them with a single digit, but on feeling how drenched you were Bucky moaned a breathy "fuck" & pressed 3 fingers firmly to your slit.
The pressure he finally made against your cunt caused your back to arch & your eyes to snap shut. You legs pulled back farther to grant your soldier even better access to your sex & your hips were starting to rut against his fingertips. Bucky couldn't help but smile, never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought you would react like this to his touch.
He gently slid his long middle finger inside you as he brought his thumb to dance along the edges of your clit. He wanted to memorize every noise you made, from the whimpers coming from your plush lips to the wet suctioning against his finger each time it plunged back into you.
Without any warning he added his index finger to action, feeling your tight hole stretch to accommodate his second finger had his own control hanging by a thread. His vibranium hand gripping onto the pillow beneath your head.
"Fuck so tight babydoll." He praised under his breath as he bit his lower lip trying to keep focused on the pleasure he was wringing from you.
He quickly added his ring finger to his assault. Dragging all 3 three fingers in & out of your fluttering heat as he let his thumb draw more direct circles on your now throbbing clit. He could tell you were quickly hurtling towards the point of no return as he added a flick upwards in his wrist.
"Oh god Buck! Gonna cum, don't stop. Fuck yes James. Please don't stop!"
You now gazed slack jawed back into his sparkling blue eyes that were entirely focused on seeing you fall apart beneath him. Eyes that belonged to the sweetest man you had ever met, who was now responsible for the filthiest noises falling from your lips. You couldn't help but plead for him not to stop as your body began shaking & squeezing his fingers even tighter. Letting the wave of your orgasm crash against you.
You let him coax you back down slowly, stroking your hair with his metal finger tips as his flesh ones began to still inside you. Placing small kisses on your lips as fingers slipped from your wet depths, teasing along your now swollen sensitive pussy feeling how your orgasm had left you dripping. The thought that he was responsible for your wrecked state made a pride flourish in his chest.
Making sure you were watching his movements, he pulled his fingers to his mouth & took his time licking your juices from each one. It may only be his first real taste of you, but he knew right then that he would never get enough.
The sight of Bucky savoring the taste of your cunt on his fingers was almost too much to take. You felt empty & the only thing that could possibly make you feel full was Bucky's cock. You slid your hand down his sculpted abdomen & trailed a finger around his swollen leaking head working to spred his pre-cum around his ridge before closing your hand around his thick shaft & starting to pump him.
The feeling of him made your mouth water & your walls clench in anticipation. His cock was perfectly veined & silky to the touch. So solid & thick your fingers barely touched when wrapped around him. He began to needily thrust up into your fist when you added a twist at the end of each stroke. When he started to whimper you released his shaft & started to roll his balls between your fingers.
He eventually pulled your hands away from his cock & pinned them to the bed beside your head. He pressed his forehead to yours in between slow deep kisses as he tried to gather his composure. Panting as he looked at you laid out under him.
"I wanted to take my time with you doll, make you cum over & over before I let myself fuck you. Make you see stars with my fingers & my tongue, god so many times with my tongue, before I let you have my cock. But, fuck, you & this pretty little pussy are driving me nuts here. Don't think I can wait any longer."
You wrapped your legs around his hips & pulled his pelvis down to yours, managing to angle your hips just right so the tip of his cock was slotted just inside your opening.
"Then don't wait Bucky. Fuck me." Your expression softened for a moment, from one of passion to one of love, & you added, "wanna be your girl Buck."
Without a moment's hesitation he plunged his cock all the way inside of you. Eliciting a moan from both of you. Bracing & holding himself in place while your body adjusted to the stretch of him. While he waited he cupped your cheek with his left palm, the coolness of the vibranium a sharp contrast from the rest of his body.
"I've dreampt of hearing you say that. My girl."
Bucky placed one last sweet kiss on your lips before he started slowly thrusting in & out of you. Each push & pull dragging deliciously against your walls allowing you to feel every milimeter he gave you. Slowing all the more as the top of his cock head slid against your g-spot.
"Oh god Buck, you're so big. So fucking deep! Fuck me harder baby!"
You were gripping onto his shoulders, burying your face into his scar where his metal arm connected to his body. Making a conscious effort to place extra licks & kisses along the mared skin to show him how much you loved even the spot he sometimes hated.
"Yeah? You want it harder doll? Here I wanted to be all soft & sweet with you the first time. Should have known you were really a dirty little girl. Let me hear you baby. Tell me how my princess wants me to fuck her tight little pussy."
He punctuated his statement with a bite your neck & started thrusting harder into you, but he purposely kept his pace slow to let you get your words out. Even though he wanted to plow you into next week.
"Soft & sweet later James, right now I want it hard & fast. Been teasing me all night. Turning me into your little slut. You know what you're doing to me. Fuck me hard."
Bucky moaned loudly into your neck the moment he heard you call yourself his little slut. It took every ounce of strength he had not to cum right there. You were an absolute minx & he was the luckiest son of a bitch alive.
"Well if you're my little slut then why am I doing all the work?" He quickly rolled so you were on top of him & before you could react he brought his right hand to slap your ass.
"Now be a good little slut & ride my cock. Take what you want baby. Make yourself cum & let me watch. There's my good girl."
Bucky had been so incredible to you already, even though you knew your night was no where near over, you wanted to give him a good show. You sat up nice & straight as you started to bounce on him. Letting your breasts jiggle up & down as the sound of you ass hitting his thighs richoted around the room.
You rolled your hips forward & backward as you rode his cock creating an extra friction on your clit. When that friction started to build & throb you let your head drop back & your eyes squeeze closed. Your hips thrust faster & shallower as you chased your orgasm.
Little squeaks & grunts coming from your lips as you fucked yourself on Bucky's cock. Your body was thrown over the cliff's edge as you felt his hips buck up from underneath you & your weight fell forward onto his chest as you shuttered & wailed.
He kept fucking you through your orgasm, thrusting into you from below. Each time his tip brushed your sweet spot a new firework burst behind your eyelids. Your mewls & whines pushing him right to his edge & he was chanting "so close baby."
As you started to come down you wanted to feel him even closer. Knowing his orgasm was just around the corner you wrapped your arms under his neck & pressed your lips to his ear as you whispered "Cum in my pussy James. Want you to fill me up."
Something snapped in Bucky's brain when you said that. Something animal took over & he threw you hard on your back before frantically rutting into you like his very life depended on it. His face was pressed into your neck & his teeth clenched when you heard him growl as he came.
Feeling his thick warm cum fill you spray by spray you sighed in pleasure & wiggled your hips to milk even more from him. Cooing in his ear about how good it felt being full of his cum, & it did.
He slowly leaned back & pulled himself from your body much to your reluctance. Watching as his cum began to trickle from you. He grabbed his shirt off the floor from were you had thrown it earlier & quickly wiped you down. It wasn't the best job but it was good enough for now. He wanted to hold you for a bit before either of you did anything else.
He dropped the shirt back to the side & pulled you tight to his chest. He knew what you said about being his girl, but his mind kept telling him maybe you just said it in the heat of the moment. So as you snuggled into his chest eyes closed with a content smile he began to open & close his mouth like a fish gasping for air.
From your comfy spot you said with a chuckle "I smell the gears starting to smoke Buck. Stop worrying. I meant it. I wanna be your girl. It took you long enough to ask."
You lifted your head up & kissed him. Staring into his eyes once more. Both full of passion & boyish charm. He couldn't help but a sheepish shrug & replied "well, I thought you deserve better than me."
Tilting his chin up slightly with your index finger you answered, "James Buchanan Barnes, there is no one better for me than you. I love you Bucky."
A genuine smile crossed Bucky's face & after so long the feeling of being honestly happy & in love felt brand new again. It was a feeling he could get used to.
"I love you more, y/n."
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masterninjacow · a month ago
Text
blue jeans ; bucky barnes.
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based on blue jeans - lana del rey !!
pairing ; bucky barnes x shield agent!gn!reader
synopsis ; four instances you managed to chip away at bucky's icy heart before he realized he was in love with you.
words ; 3.6k
themes ; fluff, action, slight angst, s2l/f2l, shield agent au
warnings / includes ; sparring in the first scene, mild injuries, mentions of death, alludes to insomnia/difficulty sleeping, tony throws a party, hints at steve/natasha, one sexual innuendo, bucky experiences *gasp* emotions, bucky doesn't understand references bcs he's older than your grandparents
a/n ; for @fairydxll's 2k writing event :D
main masterlist.
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blue jeans, white shirt walked into the room, you know you made my eyes burn it was like james dean, for sure you're so fresh to death and sick as ca-cancer
The first time you met Bucky, you were drenched in your own sweat, grunts of exertion falling from your lips as you ducked and rolled away from Natasha’s quick strikes. You were doing pretty well today, managing to evade her offensive strategies in your effort to get her to tire herself out. She was starting to get worn down, you could see it in the soft blue of her irises. The plan was working considerably until…
Well, until Bucky Barnes strode into the training room. Steve was by his side, wearing his Captain uniform, and you absentmindedly wondered if there was a mission you somehow managed to forget about.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Natasha jolted forward, landing a solid blow to your jaw, which made your head snap sharply to the side. She tackled you with a derisive huff, your body slamming firmly against the cushioned grounds of the sparring ring. Her knee hovered over you throat, and she tilted her head at you, a smirk curling at her mouth.
“Dead,” she said flippantly, before rolling off of you, clasping your hand to haul you back up. 
The ceiling came into view as you rolled your eyes, despite the grin forming across your exerted features. Gingerly, you rubbed your sore jaw with a dark chuckle, shooting her a playful scowl. “I had that coming.”
“Nat,” Steve called out from across the room. The two of you turned to face the pair of super soldiers. The blonde sent you an apologetic look. “Sorry for interrupting, but could I borrow you for a second? It’s about what happened in Chicago.”
What happened in Chicago?
You sent Natasha a curious glance, but she only shook her head, as if to say I’ll tell you later. 
She clapped your shoulder in good nature, before ducking underneath the sparring barriers, following Steve out the same way he came in. 
That left just you and Bucky. You suddenly felt awkward, fiddling with the bandages over your knuckles. You’ve never come face to face with the Winter Soldier before. The most you’ve heard were stories and rumors that spread like wildfire through the compound. Some were quite outlandish, but you couldn’t help but listen. The man kept to himself, usually confined to his quarters or out on long, long classified missions with Steve or Sam. He was a mystery, and you prided yourself on being a rather good detective.
What you did know about him, was the fact that he was accredited to over a hundred kills during his time with Hydra. One of the most notorious killers of all time.
And he waved at you. 
You had to blink twice before you realized that you had to respond in some way. Two fingers raised to your forehead as you awkwardly saluted him.
Jesus, he might’ve been from the forties, but really? Did you just salute him? 
Despite your inner turmoil, a slight grin flitted over his lips. 
Desperate to break the silence, you asked without thinking twice about it, “Do you… do you wanna spar?” If your muscles weren’t frozen in trepidation, you would’ve face palmed. You might’ve been a good fighter, but against the Bucky Barnes? You didn’t stand a chance. Sending him another furtive glance, it finally dawned on you that he was wearing jeans. “Oh, I mean, you don’t have to if you’re not dressed for it. I was—”
“Sure,” Bucky said, shrugging. “I’ve fought in worse.”
Damn it. 
He strode closer, swinging onto the sparring platform. 
Your heart was beating irregularly quickly, and you had to suck in a few deep breaths to steady your pulse. 
Bucky raised his hands tentatively, and the two of you began circling each other. This close, you could see the deep blue of his eyes, the shadow of a stubble gracing his sharp jaw, the haunted bags beneath his eyes. There were small things you noticed about his stance. Bucky favored his right side, which was quite ironic, considering he had a vibranium left arm. Though he had a heavier build, he was expertly bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready to strike forward at any given second. But he was slightly drawn back, and that was how you knew he had no plans of going on the offensive any time soon.
Narrowing your eyes, you darted forward, swinging a hit to his face. To your expectation, he easily blocked your blow, moving to the side swiftly. You were quick to follow the hit with a kick to the chest, which he let you land, and he staggered backwards a couple paces.
He was going easy on you.
With clenched teeth, you drew forward and struck his side, followed by a roundhouse punch to his shoulder. The impact made him falter, so you hooked your foot over the crook of his knee and yanked him back, which made him fall back with a grunt. 
There was a smile to his winded features. God damn it.
“You’re holding back on me,” you said, panting slightly, backing away from him. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
That pretty smile of his warbled subtly. “I’m sorry. Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. You wanna go again?”
“Nah,” you breathed out, clasping your hands together behind your head, stretching with a mild grimace. “I promised Tony I’d look over the mission debriefs. Think we could pick this up another time?”
Bucky pushed himself up from the ground, running his flesh hand through his close-cropped hair. Jesus Christ, could he just stop being attractive for one damned second? 
“Sure. I’ll look forward to it.”
You nodded once. “It’s a date,” you said stoutly, before ducking beneath the sparring ring’s barrier and striding out of the training room with a heart that slammed far too erratically against your ribcage—and you highly doubted it was because of physical exertion.
you were sorta punk rock, i grew up on hip hop but you fit me better than my favorite sweater, and i know that love is mean (oh oh) and love hurts (oh oh) but I still remember that day we met in december, oh baby
It was late, and you definitely should’ve been sleeping by now. 
But, alas, your eyes stayed open and your mind ran rampant with such horrid irrationalism that you tore the blankets away from you, clambered out of your bed in a rush, and strode out of your room as quietly as you possibly could. A quick glance to the clock hanging in the hallway told you that it was nearing three in the morning, and a heavy sigh fell from your lips. You shuffled towards the living room, curling into the corner of the plush sofa and turning on the television, placing it on the lowest volume so it wouldn’t awaken the others. 
The screen cast a dull blue glow onto you, playing some old Christmas movie you couldn’t recall the name of, and you placed your head against the armrest, eyes hooded with fatigue.
Much to your surprise, Bucky came out not too long after, rubbing his own eyes sleepily. His hair was disheveled, sleep shirt stretched taut over the muscles of his torso.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” you winced, propping yourself up on one arm.
He was quick to shake his head. “No, no, it wasn’t you. Why’re you up?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied cautiously. 
The two of you stared at each other for a good minute before he shook his head with a hoarse chuckle, sitting himself down on the sofa, not too far away from you. Hesitance splayed over your features evidently, but you eased yourself back into the seat and turned your attention towards the television.
You fell asleep to the faint sound of Christmas music and the feeling of Bucky’s arms wrapping over you when your forehead accidentally landed onto his chest. Not that he minded much—he rather liked the way you fit perfectly into him.
The following morning, Tony was the first to stride out, pleasantly surprised to see the two of you sleeping on the couch peacefully, limbs entangled to no return. It was safe to say that he took enough pictures to blackmail the two of you for a lifetime. 
i will love you 'til the end of time i would wait a million years promise you'll remember that you're mine baby, can you see through the tears?
Tony’s parties were a grand spectacle you had the joy of being invited to every year. He claimed it was because he thought you were a fun drunk, but you had a sneaking suspicion that Tony was starting to see you more and more as a close friend—though you presumed he wouldn’t ever admit it.
This year, you appeared in a dark, red velvet suit, crisp white button-up visible just beneath the jacket. The party was already in full swing, music reverberating pleasantly through the room and people milling about with wide smiles and flutes of golden champagne.
You weaved your way through, stopping to greet Natasha and Steve with a flourish, clapping the burly super soldier on the shoulder and bumping your fist playfully against the ex-red room assassin. The both of them wore a deep hue of green today, unintentionally coordinating outfits—even though they were quite the oblivious pair to one another’s feelings, you thought they’d be quite the attractive couple, both in the physical and metaphorical sense.
As Natasha recounted some story of the time Tony messed up one of her missions, your gaze drifted over to the bar, where you saw Sam and Bucky bickering quietly—the former having a wide grin splayed over his lips and the latter wearing a glowering scowl, carding his vibranium arm through his close-cropped hair. The action led you to notice that he had a small red ribbon tied around the metal limb, and you could feel an amused grin tilt at the corner of your glossed lips.
The party drew on—you were whisked away by a handful of your colleagues to play catch up just around a dozen times. It would be quite the understatement to say you were enjoying yourself. Thor’s boisterous laughter seemed to rumble the very ground, Clint challenged you to a game of ‘I bet you can’t flick this olive into that guy’s drink’, and Maria mixed up your drinks for you with surprising ease, sending you a wink when you asked for your fifth sugary beverage in a row. Tony had joined you at one point, nearly black-out drunk, and you had to prop your arm beneath his forehead before he could face-plant against the counter.
A lot happened in such a short span of time, you found yourself bee-lining for the balcony when you gulped down your sixth glass, in need of some fresh air. Outside, the music dampened to a faint echo of its volume inside, and the quiet warped over you like a cold blanket. You sighed in mild relief, rubbing at your sore cheeks gingerly—you weren’t used to smiling this much in just one night.
When the balcony doors squeaked as they gave way for someone else, you looked over your shoulder, eyebrows quirking upwards upon seeing none other than James Buchanan Barnes.
“I’m surprised to see you,” you said quietly. “Didn’t think parties were your forte.”
The suit he wore was a rich shade of navy blue, bringing out the juxtaposing lightness of his irises. That stubble you liked far more than you’d admit brought out the sharpness of his features, giving him a rough edge you knew countered with his tentative and soft personality. You glanced down at the red ribbon tied around his metal bicep, grinning gently. 
“Sam forced me to come,” he replied dismissively, moving forward to stand next to you. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat—this close, you could see the subtle flush of rouge creep over his skin. “You look great. Really great.”
A warm sensation flooded your chest and your nose wrinkled as you looked towards him in muted delight. “You look good, too, Bucky. Blue really is your color.”
Bucky rather liked the way he could see the stars in your eyes. 
After a considerably lengthy period of ponderous silence, you quietly asked, “Why haven’t you been let out for any public missions? It's all hidden underground stuff you do. You’re an Avenger like the rest of us.”
The fond smile that once graced his mouth melted away at an instant, replaced by the harsh framing of an uncomfortable slant. You immediately regretted asking the question, about to tell him that it was alright if he didn’t want to answer before he cut you to the chase and said, “You know why.”
Disappointment unfurled within your ribcage, like a roll of paper stretched taut. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.” You weren’t quite sure what had come over you, so you wrapped your hand over the coldness of his vibranium wrist, clutching it tightly and watching him with keen eyes. “You don’t deserve any of this, for the record. I hope you know that, Bucky. You deserve the entire world and I hope people start to look past the actions of someone you were also a victim to.”
Bucky had so much he wanted to say, but the words were lodged in his throat. He found himself nodding to your words, allowing a meek smile to crack through his stony disposition. No more words needed to be said, and the two of you parted ways with the sort of comforting silence that could be shared with only people who’ve seen too much for a single lifetime.
love you more than those bitches before say you'll remember (oh baby) say you'll remember, oh baby ooh i will love you 'til the end of time
Rumors spread around the compound rather quickly. You had just come back from a rather rough mission, dropping your long-range firearms into the storage room when you heard two other agents gossiping feverishly in the corner. Knowing it was none of your business, you quickly put away your weapons and strode out, but you couldn’t help overhearing Bucky’s name being thrown out between the two. Curiosity getting the better of you, you pressed yourself against the wall and listened just enough for you to catch what they were discussing.
He went on a date. And not just any regular date. The first one in decades. 
Blinking in mild shock, you made your way to your quarters, yearning to wash off all the blood and dirt that rendered your skin sticky and uncomfortable.
It wasn’t until the late hours of the night you bumped into the super soldier in the kitchen. You were washing your dirty dishes from a couple hours ago when you made dinner for yourself, sighing in annoyance at the dried leftovers that clung to the ceramics. 
“What’s the point of living in a multimillion dollar compound if there’s no fancy tech to wash my dishes for me?” you hissed scathingly under your breath, using your shoulder to knock away a stray piece of hair that fell over your eyes. “Stupid broken dishwasher. Didn’t Tony say he’d get that looked at a week ago? Bet he completely forgot.”
Your grumbling was interrupted when you heard the fridge door open. Pivoting by the waist to see who it was, a string of colorful curses fell from your lips when soap suds dribbled from your arms and all over your shirt, iridescent bubbles now lining your pajamas. 
“Seems like you’re having a bad day,” Bucky said from the fridge, now moving towards the cupboards to grab a glass for the carton of orange juice in his hands. “Can’t say I’m better off, though.”
“Yeah?” you asked with an amused edge, quickly turning back around to rinse off your soapy hands and dishes. Ripping off a kitchen towel to dab at the soap on your shirt, you glanced back up at him. “Heard you had a date.”
Bucky shifted uncomfortably. It was only then that you realized that he was still wearing a crisp suit—no doubt he had just come back fresh from his night out. “It, uhm, didn’t go so well.”
“Sorry to hear that, Bucky.” Sensing that he’d rather be talking about literally anything else, you nodded once and swiftly changed the subject. “I was just about to start a new show. You’re welcome to join if you’d like.”
The tired glint to his eyes seemed to wane away as he shot you a grateful beam. “That sounds amazing, honestly. I could use the distraction.”
It was certainly a strange sight—a SHIELD agent in a poorly-dried soapy shirt sitting beside one of the most famous ex-assassins in the world, who just so happened to be wearing a fancy date suit. You turned on the TV wordlessly, lips only faintly twitching upwards when he settled into his seat further, flesh arm coming round over the back of the couch to land over your shoulders, tugging you into his side. 
“You are ridiculously wet right now,” he commented with all but a straight face, eyes flickering down to your still-damp shirt and hands, which made you snort unattractively.
“Gee, Bucky. Didn’t know we were at that stage yet.”
The super soldier appeared affronted for a moment at what you were implying before he quickly began backtracking, “I didn’t—I wasn’t—!”
“I know,” you chuckled, patting his knee consolingly. Then, you turned your attention back to the screen. “I hope you don’t mind animated shows.”
“You kidding me? I was a huge fan in the forties. Snow White was all the rage back then,” Bucky hummed, fingers flexing experimentally on your bicep. It took all you had in you not to preen with delight at how comfortable he was with physical touch with you, so you settled on tucking your knees up to your chest and shuffling even closer to him.
A brilliant smile spread over your features. “I love it when you talk about the forties. It’s like I’m looking through a window of your life before… before everything,” you said quietly before shifting about one last time to make yourself more comfortable.
The episode was brightly colorful, exuberant in both visuals and dialogue. He often found himself in awe at the wonderful animation and spectacular voice acting, enthralled whenever you made small comments on the plot—something he knew you were just doing to subtly check if he was enjoying himself as well. 
One gripe he did have, however, was the fact that there were far too many jokes and references that Bucky couldn’t really understand. At first, he didn’t want to ask you because you seemed to be enjoying yourself—but after the first few, you seemed to realize that he wasn’t catching on and from then you’d pause the show to quickly explain some of the obscure pop culture references. 
“Scooby Doo is a famous mystery show that was super big around the 80s and 90s,” you whispered over to him. “Just in case you didn’t know.” 
Bucky could feel his heart lurch in its steady pace. He wasn’t entirely used to someone considering his own enjoyment in general—much less for something as mundane as watching a show. You were just so… nice. So nice that it left a yearning sort of ache within Bucky’s chest that he couldn’t exactly place. 
“Thanks,” he hoarsely muttered and you only responded with a half-minded hum, hand somehow finding its way back to his knee.
God, you were going to be the death of him.
Eventually, the episode ended and the credits rolled by, the wind-chime music tinkling in the background as you stretched your limbs with a weak groan, followed by an audible yawn you hid behind a fist. You blinked away the sleepy tears and shot him a reluctant watery smile.
“I better call it a night. Got some meetings tomorrow I have to lead.” After a tentative pause, you tacked on, “It was really nice being with you tonight. I, uhm, I hope this took your mind off of things, even if it was temporary.”
The corner of his lips slanted upwards. “It was great, really. Do you think we could… do it again sometime?”
Oh, it was like you could feel your heart melting through the bones of your ribcage. “Yeah! Yeah, I’d love that!” you breathily said a little too quickly, and you cleared your throat in embarrassment. “I, uh—g’night, Bucky.”
Bucky couldn’t understand just how easy it was for you to suddenly lean over and press a chaste kiss to his cheek. Your lips brushed over his stubble, nose bumping softly against his cheekbone. He could smell you—lavender and dish soap infiltrating his senses. Nearly short circuiting, he remained as still as a statue, only forcing himself to lift a hand to stiffly wave goodbye when you promptly hauled yourself onto your feet, turned on the heel, and padded down the hall to your room. He watched you go with slightly parted lips accompanied by a longing stare. 
Hours later, now retired into the privacy of his room, moonlight spilling white through the windows and onto the cold floors, Bucky could still feel the burning imprint of your lips on his skin. He wasn’t able to sleep for the rest of the night, plagued by nightdreams of how your smile would feel molded against his.
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softlybarnes · 5 months ago
Text
Looped
Summary: You are inadvertently trapped in a time loop without any memory of the last five years, including your relationship with Bucky. But Bucky would stay in the loop forever, explain everything again each day, if it meant getting to stay by your side.
Pairing: Bucky X Reader
Word Count: ~15.2k
Warnings: memory loss, brief mention of sex (not smut, no description), angst, Bucky being self-depreciating
A/N: This was a labor to write but so so fun. Please let me know what you think!
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You’re sweet and sharp, like the ripe flesh of summer fruit.
It’s the first thought Bucky ever has about you. It makes him want to know you.
You laugh loud and crack jokes that make Sam guffaw and Steve blush.
You are all honey warmth and gentle smiles, sarcasm and dripping truths. You whisper truths to him like a siren, like the call of the sea, late at night, early in the morning.
When you meet, he thinks he’d like to spend the rest of his days at your side.
It doesn’t matter in what capacity, though eventually he comes to hope for something more. Hopes maybe you could come to love him.
But friend, lab assistant, overly watchful co-worker will do too. If he can remain in your life, it's good enough for him. Bucky hopes for a more that he doesn’t deserve, and slowly, over years, more grows until it blooms love.
It’s how he discovers the give of your skin against his teeth is like the bruise of a peach, soft and tart.
It’s how he discovers your love, all of your love, is like golden light. Like a shining beacon to follow home.
It’s how he discovers he doesn’t quite mind being cared about, not if it's you, not if he’s allowed to tip it back to you, like a torch passed back and forth by children in the dark.
Your love goes down easy, like ice cream melting at the back of his throat on a hot day. It's uncomplicated, not like every other relationship he has to form and reform, shadowed by past deeds, Natasha and Steve, Sam and Tony.
He offers up his soul to you, and you pluck it out of the palm of his hand and examine it, before slipping it onto your finger like a ring.
Bucky is entirely yours.
He loves you more than he should, more than he should be allowed to.
He’s desperate and co-dependent and utterly in love.
And you don’t seem to mind at all.
Bucky starts wondering about your future, about your future together, about a house and some pets. About finding a real ring to give you and not just the imagined, misshapen rock of his soul.
Of course, when things go too well, the harder the descent is into hell, the harder the fall from grace.
Normally, usually, when the team goes on a mission, you stay back at base, at the Compound where you are safe and secure and protected. You are not an Avenger, you are Avenger adjacent. An intel analyst.
Still. You are close enough to bleed and hurt, still close enough to fall into Bucky’s toxic orbit, close enough for his being to swallow yours entirely.
But Natasha was unavailable, out on another assignment, and the threat level for this mission was supposed to be relatively low.
So, you had offered yourself up. Shiny and new, like the brass of a new minted penny. Like you weren’t all the fortunes in the world shuffled into the deck of one person.
Like you weren’t Bucky’s whole world. Like the planet of his being, the core of him, wouldn’t fall out of the sky if the universe of you suddenly dropped out of existence.
“I’m trained,” had been your only refrain, a gentle reminder to him that you were not as breakable and fragile as Bucky sometimes liked to believe. He knows that you’re not, that you are anything but breakable and fragile.
But the world so liked to rip and tear and take.
It liked most of all to rip and tear and take from him.
Bucky has never been a keeper of good things. They’re always taken from him, right when his damnably loyal heart finished stitching itself inside a new home, right when he thought this time it will be different. The world smiled and rubbed its hands together. Jackpot. There was no greater prize, no greater tragedy, than one soaked in love and loyalty and crushable hearts.
You had touched his cheek with fingers so soft he’d wanted to take a bite of you. “I’m trained,” you had repeated. “And most integrated with the team already. It will be fine.”
Steve had nodded, making the change on the tablet in front of him. “Y/N is right. You shouldn’t encounter any hostiles. Intel gathering only.”
Bucky had shot Steve a look, but said nothing.
It was like no one realized. That if something, anything, happened to you, he would shatter into a million pieces, that he would follow you into the ether, that his heart couldn’t be torn apart again. He simply wouldn’t survive it. It had been stitched together too many times.
This was his last heart and unfortunately for him, he had already given it to you.
But the mission goes fine. It’s so, so fine.
Until it isn’t.
He’s shuffling through a stack of papers in an abandoned lab when you open a drawer on the other side of the room. Just a drawer, nothing to indicate what might be inside. You’re clearing the lab together, because his stipulation to not having a meltdown about your inclusion in the mission was that you should not be separated.
Before boarding the jet he’d been staring at you silently, brooding and moody and a little mad. You had had a fond look in your eyes when you smoothed your thumb against the worried crease between his brows. “It’s going to be fine, Bucky.” He had nodded through the bad feeling clawing at the back of his throat and you had smiled.
A nasty blue vapor blows into your face. You splutter and wipe a hand across your nose and eyes, shaking your head to clear it away.
Bucky says your name, leaps across the room.
But how can he fight smoke? This is not the kind of danger he expected.
His hand on your arm, ready to catch you if you suddenly fall.
But you only sneeze, an adorable little squeak. “What was that?” You ask, rubbing your nose.
He grips your chin in his hand and turns your head to peer into your eyes but they’re clear and open as they always are.
“Dunno,” he allows for a little relief to seep between his bones, shoulders loosening as he releases your chin. You seem completely fine. You seem to shake it off. “We need to find out though. We have enough intel. Let’s go.” He presses the hard drive you had secured earlier into your hands.
His voice is gruffer than usual, demanding. Bucky presses a hand to your hip and gives you a gentle but firm shove toward the door. “Now.”
But you just smile, turn and touch the inside of his wrist where a sliver of skin peaks out between glove and sleeve. “I’m fine. It was probably nothing. Maybe just a lot of dust.”
Dust, Bucky thinks, is not a poisonous, neon blue. But he lies to himself because it’s easier, he lies to you because he can see just a hint of worry shining in your eyes. “Probably, doll.” He snags a box of files from the desk as you trundle out the door and into the hall. He swabs the inside of the drawer, where a mist of blue rings the edge, and drops it into one of the discarded sample collection tubes.
He finds you in the hall and guides you out of the dank underground lab, and when you get back to the compound and report what happened, you’re whisked away from him, swept to the medical wing and quarantined, blood drawn and tested.
The files and hard drive and collection sample are handed over to the rest of the intel team, to Stark and Banner.
Your blood tests come back normal. You joke with the medical staff and laugh like you always do, like a honey bee buzzing in his ear on a hot summer day, as he paces around the room. You seem totally and completely fine.
The only thing they can do, it seems, is wait. Wait and see if something happens.
Testing the blue vapor will take a little more time, he’s told.
So, you’re prescribed a night in bed, with Bucky as a jailer to monitor you. No one, it's reasoned, would look after you better, would notice something sooner, should something happen.
Bucky tucks you close in your shared bed, after, of course, a shower and dinner. He makes tea and hands you a bucket sized bowl of popcorn. He turns on your favorite movie and tries not to think about the thread of fear that had settled in your eyes in the med wing.
He doesn’t like seeing you frightened, even a little bit. He doesn’t like not knowing how to comfort you, how to protect you. Bucky does not like feeling like his world is fragile, like everything might fall apart at the seams.
Maybe he’s being a tad dramatic.
But strange things follow him, follow all of the Avengers team, and his world has fallen apart enough times that he’s come to expect it.
You are by far Bucky’s best reality, the best iteration of his life.
You had smiled at Steve and Helen and Stark, but it had not reached your eyes. You were worried and trying not to show it. For his sake or theirs or your own, he’s not sure.
But when you looked at him the fear melted away, eased out of the tension in your face. Like looking at Bucky, knowing he was close was enough to bring you comfort, security.
So, he holds you tight as the credits roll, you’re breathing even and slow, already lost to the world of sleep. Bucky presses his nose to your neck and inhales slowly, lets the unfiltered, raw scent of your skin anchor him to the world, feels your heartbeat through his lips, counts the beats of your pulse.
Even in sleep you clutch him close, your fingers pressed against the knot of his spine, your leg tossed over his hip, nose dipped to the hollow of his collarbone.
He isn’t supposed to fall asleep, and he doesn’t mean to, honest, but he does. Bucky is warm and safe and so cocooned with love that he falls asleep in the glow of the TV screen and you.
You’re okay. The mission went fine, neither of you even had to draw a weapon. And now, you’re home and safe, and he’s home and safe.
It feels like any other night.
The blue vapor was nothing.
Something like vapor…
was harmless.
~
The next morning, it happens.
Fears he didn’t know he should harbor, realized.
The first time it happens, you’re both confused.
The first time the loop resets, Y/N stumbles out of bed, your movements jerky and uncoordinated.
Bucky’s first thought is nightmare. You’ve had a nightmare. About the mission, about whatever you had inhaled, about him.
His next thought is stupid. Bucky should not have allowed himself to fall asleep. He should have stayed vigilant for this very reason.
Nightmare.
The barely suppressed fear as you smiled after the blood tests came back normal, flash through his mind. You had been afraid, whether you admitted it or not.
Your hip smacks against the bedside table in a loud thump as you stumble, only stopping when you come face to face with the bedroom door.
The sheets are warm from the heat of you, soft with your detergent, fragrant with the smell of the vanilla and peach of your body wash, your lotion, like a well-loved little cake on a warm spring day, ingrained into the fabric. The scent of butter from the popcorn bowl left on the table overnight.
He sits up, mind groggy with a hard sleep, dreamless and deep. “Hey, y’okay? ‘S just a dream-,”
You whirl when you hear the shuffle and shush of the sheets, back pressed against the door.
The room is a faint blue from the TV, but slowly lightening as the sun peaks over the horizon outside, flooding the room with the first threads of pale golden light. You’re never up so early and Bucky’s usually up earlier.
But you’re already talking, nervously chattering, not listening to him. “-s’ sorry, dunno how I ended up in here.” A nervous chuckle, weak with confusion. “I don’t remember…don’t remember coming in here. I’ll head back to my room-,”
You start to turn but freeze, your hands fisted in the hem of your shirt, his shirt, that you’d stolen years ago. It’s your favorite of his.
“What the fuck?” you whisper under your breath, eyes flicking between him and the shirt, brows furrowed like you don’t recognize the material between your fingers.
“Your room?” Bucky asks, sliding his legs from the warmth of the duvet, bare feet hitting the floor. “Why would you go to your room?” You haven’t slept in your room in…years. It couldn’t properly be considered your room anymore. None of your things were there. Your room, this is your room. His and yours together.
You don’t answer, your hands traveling surreptitiously up your body, tugging something from the collar of your shirt.
His dog tags, which you hadn’t taken off since he looped them around your neck after a disastrous date that you still kissed him at the end of. Your smile had been blinding. So happy he couldn’t look at you. You had pressed a hand beneath his chin and tipped his head up, to kiss him, to bring your forehead to his and promise Bucky, I’ll never take them off.
A picnic. He had taken you on a picnic.
It had been summer and warm and your skin had been soft against his and he had believed you.
He trusts you like no one else.
You stare at them now as though you can’t make sense of the gleaming metal. You yank them over your head suddenly, the chain dangling between your fingers. You look as startled as he feels.
Something akin to panic is starting to rake over your features.
The hardwood is cold against his toes, a chill that slowly bleeds up, seeps between his ribs to fist over his heart.
Your fingers drift down again and touch the top of one of your bare thighs.
“Did we sleep together?”
You sound shocked, maybe angry. But it doesn’t seem to be directed at him. Like you’re mad at yourself.
Bucky starts to say your name but you continue, closing your fist over his name. “I can’t remember anything. Did I go out? I don’t normally drink that much I-,”
Can’t remember anything.
The words refuse to register in his mind.
Something is wrong.
“Y/N,” he interrupts. “No. Sweetheart, I think you had a-a dream or somethin’. Come back ta bed.”
But his words don’t seem to soothe you. Your back hits the door again and you look sick, confused.
“Bucky, I think,” you start slowly, setting his dog tags down on the dresser to your left, your hand shaking just a little bit. “I think you’re confused.”
“What?”
“Look, it's okay. I’m not mad. You-,”
“Catch me up here, Y/N. What are you saying? Just come back to bed, we can sort it out after we’ve gotten some more sleep.” He’s desperate suddenly, to have you back in bed. If he can just get you back in bed, curl around you, burrow himself into the fleshy realness of you, things will make sense again.
Because something is not making sense.
But his words just cause you to reach a hand behind you for the doorknob. “Look ‘m just gonna go grab Steve and we can sort this out now.” Before he can respond, you’ve wrenched the door open and darted through the apartment and out into the halls of the compound.
It takes him a minute to gather his bearings, to slip on a shirt and sweatpants, before following you.
He hears you before he sees you.
“-think he’s relapsed or something. He seems to think we’re together. I know he has memory issues but-,” You stop abruptly, he can hear you shifting from foot to foot nervously.
There’s a long pause before Steve says, incredulous, “Seems to think you’re together? What are you talking about?”
“I mean I’m wearing his shirt, Steve. He put his dog tags on me for god’s sake.” Bucky can’t breathe as he rounds the corner into the hallway of Steve’s room. He thinks he might throw up when he hears you continue, “Like he’s claimed me. I don’t blame him, I know he’s been through a lot but-,”
“If you’re fucking around this is a really cruel joke, Y/N,” Steve says, stern, almost pissed off.
“Joke?” You ask, your voice shrill and tipped with panic. “Why would I joke about this?”
Steve glances back at Bucky when he emerges into the hall and you whirl.
“Y/N,” Steve touches your shoulder gently and you relax just slightly, like you have an ally at your back. Bucky clenches his jaw, head still spinning.
Because you don’t seem to recognize him. At least not this him.
The him that’s wholly yours. The Bucky that shared a bed with you, that used your peach body wash, that loves you and is loved by you in spades, in return, beyond all reasonable comprehension.
Steve’s frowning at the two of you, at the way you hold yourself hard and straight, uncomfortable and tugging down Bucky’s shirt to hide yourself, to preserve some kind of modesty, like Bucky hasn’t already seen all of you. Steve is starting to realize something is wrong. His spine softens just slightly, tender suddenly, careful instead of indignant.
You weren't being cruel. You’re confused and upset.
And Bucky is realizing with a slow creeping dread that being forgotten is far worse than being remembered.
His guts knot in his belly, sick threatening to crawl up his throat with a sudden surety of realization.
You don’t fucking remember him.
“Y/N,” Steve continues, cupping your elbow with one hand. “You and Bucky have been together for years.”
Betrayal flashes through your eyes. “Are you guys fucking with me? This isn’t fucking funny you know.” But the pitch of your voice tells Bucky that you don’t think it’s a joke.
You jerk away from Steve, fear that he’s never seen in you twisting your features.
He realizes he's never seen you truly afraid.
“We aren’t-,”
“Where’s Natasha?” You ask, pressing your back to the wall opposite Steve’s door, like you can’t trust either of them and desperately need an ally.
Your chest is falling and sinking rapidly.
You saw horrors everyday combing through terabytes of intel, but this frightened you.
Because to you, one of your most trusted friends has suddenly turned on you, is lying to you, gaslighting you, has seemingly given you up to his psychotic best friend.
But Steve seems to realize somehow, waving Bucky back as he takes a few steps back himself. “She’s still out on assignment.”
Your eyes are dilated with a fear that makes Bucky’s stomach curdle. To have a fear like that from you turned on him, is too much.
You’ve never looked at him like that, like he’s a feral dog about to bite.
“That’s not true,” you reply, voice a shake, like the last leaf from a tree. “We had drinks in the kitchen. I was telling her about-,” you stop yourself, eyes cutting to Bucky for a moment. “I saw her today before I went to bed,” you swallow. “In my room,” you add, with an accusatory look between the two of them. Like they planned this. Like Bucky’s the enemy.
Bucky shakes his head and replies, stepping closer to you, “No. She’s been on a mission for weeks. It's why you were on the mission with me yesterday.”
You look back at Steve, disbelieving. “He’s not lying. Nat hasn’t been here for weeks.”
You look like you want to scream. Or fall to the floor. “Bucky isn’t cleared for missions, Steve. He just got here from Wakanda. You expect me to believe we went on a mission together yesterday?”
Wakanda? He hasn’t been to Wakanda in years.
Steve is watching you, you watch back. Waiting.
“What’s today’s date?”
Bucky glances at Steve as your brow furrows. “The vapor,” he realizes with sudden clarity. The vapor had done something to you. “Fuck.”
“What are you-,”
“Just humor us, Y/N.” When you only look at him with skepticism Steve rolls his eyes. “C’mon. Everything we’ve been through together over the years? You’ve been asked stranger questions.”
You swallow and glance between them, seeming to realize you aren’t in danger, that you never were.
Slowly you nod and then whisper a date years in the past.
Bucky’s mind whirls, trying to remember what-
It was before, of course. Because here is the universe taking its just reward, ripping the stitches out of his heart. He closes his eyes as the room seems to tilt and roll, and tries not to let the sudden yawning hopelessness pull him under.
It was before you started dating, before you were even friends.
The date you name, is maybe a few weeks after he first arrived in upstate New York.
Your reaction in the bedroom suddenly made sense. To you, you had just woken up with a complete and utter stranger. A mentally unstable, sometimes inadvertently violent, one at that.
Did we sleep together? The anger in your voice for yourself, the possibility you’d taken advantage of him when he was mentally unstable. Like you’d ruined something.
You don’t remember him. But it’s worse. You don’t even know him.
“C’mon,” Steve beckons you with a jerk of his head. “Let’s get you to medical. Stark and Banner should have a look at you.” And you follow easily, stepping into Steve’s orbit.
Because of course you would. You were friends with Steve long before Bucky had showed up, long before Steve had even known he was still alive.
You don’t glance back at him once, though he follows closely.
Forgotten.
Was this what it felt like to be the one who remembered?
He tries smiling at you in the lab, once your blood has been siphoned away again.
Steve explains the year to you, the mission and that you were compromised, that you seem to have lost your memory. Or that you've been set back in the past. You accept it, when Stark and Banner confirm, Helen Cho too when she steps into the lab, iced coffee in hand. Bucky listens on, quiet and watchful of you. Steve explains the vapor in more detail, what had happened to you in the lab.
“And you were in Bucky’s room because you and Buck have been together for a couple years now.”
The look on your face is worse than shock, it's like ice water in his veins.
Not revulsion, no, you had never been cruel, had never turned your nose up at anyone. It’s disbelief, like you can’t imagine it. Not even a little.
And while he had known, he really had, that you hadn’t felt an immediate attraction to him all those years ago. You look as though you can’t even perceive the possibility.
You send him a crooked smile, apology on your lips. “I don’t remember. I’m sorry.”
And how many times has he said that over the years?
The universe certainly did have a way with creating personal hells just for him.
“‘S okay, honey. We’ll get this sorted out.”
He doesn’t really believe it.
But you smile at him.
Like you always do.
~
You follow Bucky down the hallway back to your room.
It’s late now, nearing midnight.
A whole day spent in medical, in the lab. Now, he’s escorting you back to the apartment, so you can grab some of your things.
Clearly, you would be going back to your old room. You would sleep there.
Because Bucky is suddenly a strange man to you.
He doesn’t say anything to you, not wanting to frighten you further, even if it had been inadvertent. Not wanting to force you to interact with someone you barely know.
You surprise him though, like you always manage to do, by jogging to catch up with him. He slows his pace, so that you can walk together.
The scent of you washes over him, antiseptic from being in the lab all day, from being jabbed and having your blood drawn so many times. But underneath that, you still smell like you. Like peach body wash, the coppery tang of your blood, the fresh scent of unperfumed skin.
They’d drawn your blood so many times, you had started to become woozy. You hadn’t eaten anything since the popcorn the night before and they had taken so many vials from you.
You had been surprised at his outburst, when he snarled at lab assistant that you needed to eat couldn’t these fucking people see that?
You’d nodded at him, a tiny smile tugging at your lips, almost proud in your thanks.
“So me and you, huh?” You say now. He nods and tries not to mourn, tries not to let the pressure at the back of his eyes seize him.
He can’t look at you.
Already you feel lost to him.
They aren’t sure if your memories are gone or only hidden, if they could be retrieved or if the effects of the vapor could be reversed.
Hopefully analyzing the sample would yield something, reveal something helpful.
Something itches at the inside of his skin. The urge to bruise his knuckles against someone’s teeth, to bleed. So he can feel something else. A different kind of pain..
What would happen if your memory never returned? Would you fall in love with him again? Should you? Should he let you?
Steve slated the intel you collected yesterday as highest priority, maybe the information gathered would tell them something about what the defunct lab had been experimenting on, what it was that you had inhaled. If there’s hope, if there’s a way to reverse it, if it would go away on its own.
“Bucky?” You ask.
You.
You’re still here.
And hadn’t he been willing all those years ago to settle for any place in your life?
You were still here.
“Yeah. Sorry, sweetheart, I’m distracted.”
“Can’t imagine how hard this is for you if I…if we’re…”
You don’t seem to know what to call it. “Together?”
“Yeah. Together. I mean, last I know you just got here. You just got here from Wakanda and-,” you pause and seem embarrassed. “I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier.”
He shrugs.
Like it hadn’t hurt to see you rip off his dog tags like they burned you. Like the fear in your eyes hadn’t sliced through his ribs right into the meat of his heart.
But what else should you have been expected to think?
“It’s not your fault,” he says, gentle as he always is with you.
Bucky tells himself it doesn’t matter if you remember, he does.
He remembers all of you. He’ll show you himself again. You would know him again.
“Still,” you say.
He jumps when you press two fingers to the inside of his wrist.
It’s a comforting gesture between you and apparently one that had not been taken with your memory.
“Still,” your fingers curl against his skin, warm. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it was jarring.” You swallow. Bucky doesn’t dare look at you.
You fill every corner of his being. He’s constantly only aware of you, the slide of your skin against his, the scent of your hair when the smell of your shampoo fades, the scar along the curve of your elbow from a childhood injury.
“For what it’s worth,” you say, “you seem so much better than I remember you.” You duck your head embarrassed again. “Healthier. Not so weighed down. Like you sleep.”
He hadn’t realized you’d been watching him all day too.
“All thanks to you.”
“Seriously?” You lift a disbelieving eyebrow.
“And rigorous state mandated therapy and mental de-programming.” He says drolly.
You laugh and Bucky lets a smile curl the corner of his mouth. He glances at you and finds you already watching him.
“Oh you’re funny huh?”
“Not usually.”
You hum, “don’t think I would fall for someone without a sense of humor.”
“Yeah I’m sure it’s my sunshine personality that won you over,” he deadpans.
You laugh again, loud.
Bucky opens the front door, lets you pass before him. He watches your eyes rove over a space that should be familiar to you.
“Can I-?” You point to a kitchen cabinet, indicating you want to snoop around.
He almost laughs again.
“‘S all yours anyways, honey. You need somethin’ specific let me know and I’ll find it for you.”
“You’re very chill about all this.” You say shuffling through the mugs in the cabinet. Examining a hand painted one he had brought you back from Budapest back when you were still just friends.
Your eyes are wide as you turn it in your hands. He thinks he hears you murmur pretty under your breath before reshelving it.
He’s glad you still think so.
“I’d do just about anything for you. Including whatever this is. We’ll figure it out.” He’s not so sure, but he can’t say that. For him and for you.
“Oh,” you say, turning and pressing another mug to your chest. “This not casual then?” You joke, but something is fractured in your eyes and he remembers the disbelief on your face in the lab. Like you can’t imagine loving him. “This thing between us is pretty serious, huh?”
The mug has a peach on it. You bought it in a tourist trap shop in Georgia when a layover had stranded you in Savannah overnight.
His throat is tight. “I’d say so. You’re, uh, takin’ this in stride yourself.”
You shrug and look a bit sheepish, setting the cup back down on its shelf carefully before pulling open the fridge and glancing inside. “Well, to me…it's like nothing has changed. I don’t remember anything so there’s nothing to lose.”
Your head is still stuck in the fridge so you don’t see the way his breath hitches with pain, with loss. You don’t see the devastation rip across his face. Don’t mourn, he tells himself harshly. Y/N is still here.
But he means nothing to you. Like a total restart, a do over.
Was this the universe giving you a chance to make a different decision?
How many times had Bucky begged for a redo in his own life? Another chance to do things differently?
Only for you to be given one, in the worst way possible.
You turn, shutting the fridge and Bucky schools his face into a neutral expression. “I can look around? Maybe something here will jog my memories?” You point to the door that leads to the bedroom.
He thinks it’s a little more complicated than needing to jog memories but doesn’t say so.
“Like I said, it’s all yours.”
You start toward the bedroom but stop when he doesn’t follow.
“C’mon? Might need your help or something.”
Bucky follows, stepping into the bedroom, where the sheets are still rumpled and the TV still glows an iridescent blue.
You deftly click it off before flicking on the lamp. “Which side of the bed is mine?”
“Closest to the wall.”
“Ah, makes sense. Farthest from the door.” You smile at him and when you turn to your bedside table, Bucky slides his dog tags off the dresser beside the door and stuffs them into the pocket of his sweatpants. He doesn’t want to look at them, doesn’t want to think about the horror that had passed over your face when you realized what they were.
You didn’t know, he tells himself. The you that knows who he is, would never have had that reaction.
It still hurts, burns and sears. His chest is full of holes.
You rummage through the nightstand.
A bottle of painkillers, your glasses, a book, the long coil of your phone charger, a couple of foil wrapped condoms. Your fingers pause over the condoms before you slide them back into the drawer and pluck out the book instead.
You sit at the edge of the bed and flick through the pages quickly. The book is creased, sticky tabs lining the pages, notes in the margins. “I started reading again.” Your fingers pause, surprise coating your voice, “And annotating. I haven’t done that since high school.” Twisting to look over your shoulder at him, you hold up the book. “You must be a good influence on me, Barnes.”
Bucky shakes his head, “Dunno about that.” He sits at the edge of his side of the bed, watching you flip the book in your hands. “You - that was-,” he pauses, not sure why it's so hard to say. Maybe explaining your relationship to a person who can’t remember you is just painful. He licks his lips, finds his throat dry, and for the first time in years, he finds himself on the verge of a panic attack.
But he pushes on, pushes the hot, tight feeling in his chest down. After you left he would have to go to the gym, break his knuckles against a sandbag. He feels itchy, misplaced and unmoored, adrift. “- it was something that brought us together. When we were friends, becoming friends. We started reading together.”
He can’t decipher the look that crosses your face. Surprise, joy, despair in a quick succession. He blinks and it’s gone. Something like disbelief again. He doesn’t know what it means.
“Do we still read together?”
Instead of answering, he turns to his own nightstand and pulls out another book. This one too is beaten up, tabbed and written in, his script and yours tangling together.
His fingers brush against yours when he hands the book over. He fidgets, swallowing against the panic in his throat.
While you stare at the book, flicking gently through it with a reverence he doesn’t dare read into, he stands and shuffles through the closet to find your overnight bag.
“Bucky?” You call, his name on your lips like a balm. His shoulders droop, tension that had been puncturing wicked holes in his chest melting away.
“Yeah, doll?” He sits the bag on the bed.
“D’we read together a lot?”
“Almost every night.”
You nod and set the book aside before making your way to the bathroom.
Bucky has no way of deciphering what just happened, what it means to you, as the you from five years ago.
He hears the shower door open, hears you shuffling bottles around. He plucks some of your favorite pajamas (that aren’t just his shirts) and stuffs them into your bag, before trekking after you.
You’re holding two of the body washes, eyes flicking back and forth between them. He leans against the doorway and watches you, the tilt of your head, the curve of your mouth.
“I feel like I shouldn’t leave you,” you say suddenly, looking up from the bottles, holding them to your chest like it’s his heart. “I-I, y’know, don’t know you, but I think - my body does? I feel like I shouldn’t leave you.” You purse your lips, jaw tight, “I feel anxious.” You shake the bottles at him, “I also feel bad for taking your things.”
“‘S your stuff, Y/N,” he says automatically, deciding that’s the easiest part of your statement to focus on.
You don’t want to leave him.
Bucky shouldn’t find happiness in that, not now.
You peer at him from beneath your lashes before shuffling closer, seeming to sense he won’t tell you to stay, not after that morning and the fear in your eyes. “I changed my preferences I guess. Never used to buy fruit scented stuff.”
Bucky blinks and looks down at the plastic bottles in your hands. Peach and plum. He only ever remembers you having used - but that’s not true. When he first met you - when you started waiting for him in the mornings, making him take walks with you, when you started reading together on the couch, his thigh pressed to yours, you had smelled like tea, like cinnamon and vanilla.
“Musta changed -,”
You’ve drifted closer to him, you’re so close, he could dip his head forward and touch his forehead to yours.
It's painful.
That feeling comes back, and he recognizes it this time, the feeling he used to get all the time, like he needed to bleed, like he was losing something that he wouldn’t ever be able to replace.
You touch his wrist.
“Bucky?”
“You changed for me. I never wanted to change you.”
And god, he’s always associated you with fruit. You were peach trees and sunshine and eternal summer.
“‘s just body wash.”
But it's not. It never is.
You’re too close. Far too close.
You’re familiar to him but he’s not familiar to you. Bucky wants to kiss you but instead he looks away. “Maybe it's just body wash but, you liked something else before-,”
Maybe I’ve taken something from you, he wants to say. Maybe I’ve taken more than just this.
“Y’know, maybe I don’t have my memories of the last couple of years. But I do know myself. I’ve never done a thing I didn’t want to. Besides, if someone doesn’t change over a five year period, something is probably wrong.”
He ducks his head, “Guess that’s true, doll, I just -,” Bucky meets your eyes, wide and clear, waiting, “this is just really hard for me.”
“Think you’re doing okay.”
“Yeah?” He laughs without humor, “Not how it feels. It’s hard not to be -,”
“Familiar?” You supply.
“Yeah,” his shoulders drop.
“Then be familiar,” you smile. “I’m familiar to you. It’s okay.”
You're so close, he can see flecks of light in your eyes. “I have this weight in my chest telling me not to leave, telling me to be honest with you.” You say, “It's telling me to be familiar too.”
He closes his eyes. You’re doing it again. It’s like falling in love all over again. It’s like the first time he admitted himself, his feelings, to you all over again. The truths, honesties you whispered like a siren. Your call is as potent to him as any drug.
You’re heat in his cheeks, wind in his hair, honey bees in spring.
“I should trust my gut, right? Natasha would have castrated anyone that mistreated me, right?”
“Right,” he says tightly.
“Do you want me to go?” You start to take a step back, “Am I making it worse?”
Bucky reacts on instinct, hand flashing out to grab yours and keep you from pulling away.
He hasn’t touched you all day, your skin is warm and soft as it ever is under his. Like the give of satin beneath his touch. “No. No, you aren’t making it worse.”
Worse, worse is when you aren’t around.
And because you seem to be encouraging it, he tugs you closer and lets his forehead fall against yours.
You touch his cheek, sliding your thumb along the arch of the bone, the pink that rises to the surface of his skin. You exhale softly, shakily, your breath cool against his skin. He wonders what it's like for you, to have feelings in your gut that your brain can’t make sense of, doesn’t have memories to connect to.
Probably a lot like when Steve talks about their childhood to him.
“I want to tell you,” You say suddenly, pulling back a little to meet his eyes, “that you’re so different from the you I know. You’re…seems kinda silly to say maybe but, I’m proud of you. For me, y’know, a huge step was that yesterday you let me drag you out on a walk around the compound with me for fifteen minutes.”
He doesn’t say anything, can’t find his voice.
“How did we get together?”
That’s easy.
“We became friends,” Bucky says, tucking one of your hands inside his. “We were friends for a long time.”
“Did I ask you or did you ask me?”
“I asked you. Took you to Coney Island, bought you ice cream and won you a stuffed bear.”
“That’s so cute,” you giggle.
He’s glad you think so. “It was until I kissed you.”
You stop laughing. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, indignant and offended for another version of yourself. “Am I a bad kisser?”
Bucky snorts, “No, nothing like that. Just, I guess I didn’t make it quite as clear as I thought that we were on a date.”
“Oh.”
“Mm.”
“So I was surprised? Good or bad surprised?”
“Good I would wager since you let me keep kissing you after you punched me.”
You gasp, “I didn’t.”
“You did,” He tries to hold in a laugh, “On my left arm so you nearly broke your knuckles. And we had to find someone to give you ice while I explained myself.”
What he doesn’t tell you is that there were fireworks that night. That you lied together on the beach that night in the still cooling sand and kissed him until the world went gray and foggy and peaceful.
You’re smiling at him, “Bucky can I stay here with you tonight? I have questions.”
His chest seems to cave in with the pain that ripples outward, like a stone into a pond. “‘Course. Like I said, it's all yours anyways.”
“What is?”
“Everything.”
~
The second time the loop resets, it's better for you.
It's worse for Bucky, because he finds out its a fucking loop.
He stays up all night with you, talking, sharing his best memories from the last five years with you.
You’re enamored with him. Bucky thinks you tell him things that he would have never known otherwise.
“I always had this fantasy as a nerdy little girl. Of, like, reading with someone, someone I really loved. Sounds so stupid, right? But, it’s true. I had this image of listening to someone read, or reading to someone.” You look over to the pile of books you had pulled off the shelves in the living room, all tabbed and worn and scribbled with your writing and his. “Guess I got it.”
Maybe he had made you change your body wash scents but he’d also made a wish he didn’t know you had come true.
Bucky hadn’t known, you’d never told him.
You only fall asleep on the couch once the sun starts to peak over the horizon.
Bucky tucks a favorite blanket of yours around your shoulders, kisses your temple, and even though things with you are going well, he still feels out of control, like his life is flashes he can’t control.
So, even though he’s exhausted and hasn’t slept, he changes into gym clothes, stops by the lab for a progress update (nothing on the sample yet), and heads to the gym.
The first solid punch he lands against a punching bag is so satisfying he almost groans. His mind empties, the only thing he needs to focus on is the swaying bag in front of him.
Bucky doesn’t have to think about you. About you fascinated by him, trying to relearn him, even though you know everything about him already. He doesn’t have to think about you inching closer to him on the couch.
He doesn’t have to think about how he misses you so bad, the you that knows him, and it’s only been a day.
It all becomes worse, though, when Steve rushes into the gym. “Y/N reset.”
“What? What the fuck does that mean?”
“I mean…Y/N came into the lab and had no idea what was going on.” He explains that he had asked you the date again, and that you had answered with the same date you gave yesterday. When questioned, you did not remember the previous day at all. “No memory of anything that happened yesterday.”
And that’s how they discover that you weren’t just reset five years into the past, you’re on some kind of self setting loop.
“So, Y/N is stuck? Will it reset every day-? I-,”
“We don’t know. I guess we have to wait until tomorrow and see if it happens again. I explained everything again. Probably best if you come to the lab, explain yourself.”
Bucky nods, looks down at his bloody knuckles, his hand is swollen from the abuse and shakes.
Again.
He would have to explain to you again.
And what if you looked at him the way you did yesterday?
Not revulsion, but disbelief.
He imagines the disbelief as disappointment.
It can’t possibly be anything else.
“Want me to wrap your hand before we go up?” Steve asks, nodding to the blood running rivulets down his arm, concern crossing his face before he peers into Bucky’s eyes. “Did you sleep?”
“Y/N had questions, I-,” He swallows. “I can wrap it. I’ll be there in a couple minutes.”
~
They don’t make you stay in medical all day.
Stark and Banner have samples of your blood and samples of the vapor. Steve considers going back to the abandoned lab, to poke around again.
But no one wants anyone else set five years back into a seemingly unending time loop.
You don’t seem to despair about your situation.
“Stranger things have happened,” you say, smiling like you always do. You wrinkle your nose at Steve, “Could make friends with an ice man from the ‘40s after all.”
Bucky is exhausted but he still hoards you like a dragon with treasured gold, insists on explaining to you again.
You look surprised this time, when you're told of the relationship you have with him. He thinks maybe this time, you have a curious tilt to your head.
But it's there again, that disbelief.
He almost wants you to say it. Whisper, “How did that fucking happen? Where did I go wrong?”
In the apartment, you look through the same cabinets you did yesterday. You touch the hand painted mug from Budapest, the Georgia peach mug. You smile at the all pink cookware.
This time, maybe because it's so early in the day, you run your fingers along the bookshelf checking the titles, examine the stack you don’t remember leaving on the coffee table the night before, you unfold the blankets from their basket at the end of the couch and examine them, you flick through Bucky’s record collection next to the player.
Today, you find your phone tangled in the sheets of the bed.
You flick through the pictures, smiling at some of them.
“Wow,” you say. “We’re really in love, huh?”
You pause over a picture, your breath hitching in your lungs. Bucky can’t see the screen, so he doesn’t know what makes you click the phone dark and set it aside.
You discover again that you read together almost every night.
Bucky makes sure to tell you more this time, now that he knows it's so important to you. How did he not know before? “Usually you read out loud,” he says. “You curl up real tight next to me, with your head on my shoulder, sometimes you sit between my legs, and you read.”
“And the tabs?”
“If I have a comment you make me take a note,” he says, watching your eyes as he pulls out the stack of post-it notes, sticky tabs, and colored pens. “You always make me do it in my own handwriting so we know who thought what.”
And this time, the look that crosses your face is like he hung the moon and stars. You look away from him, nodding to yourself, just a little bit shy.
“You’re a dreamboat, huh?” You tease.
“Oh, yeah, sweetheart, a real ray of sunshine.”
“You seem like it,” you rag on him. “‘S a little weird to wake up with-,” You glance at him out of the corner of your eye.
“What?” He flops back on the bed horizontally, closing his eyes.
You’re on the other side of the bed looking through your nightstand again.
God he’s tired. It’s been a long time since he’s been awake for such a long period. There’s you to thank for that he supposes. He always sleeps when he has you next to him.
You touch a curl of his hair and he jumps. Bucky curses himself when your hand darts away.
“Dunno. Guess with a person,” You say. “You seem to care about me a lot. I’ve never had a relationship like this one before. That seems so serious and real.”
He doesn’t flinch when you touch his hair this time, fingers threading through the short strands. “When did you cut your hair?”
“Years ago,” he says, opening his eyes to look at you. “You never told me that. That you never had-,”
“Feels silly to be scared to tell you things. Maybe before I was scared, didn’t know what would happen, or if something would scare you away. Maybe I was afraid of saying too much. Besides, I won’t remember it anyways right? I get a redo tomorrow.”
“We don’t know that. Maybe tomorrow you’ll remember.”
“I’m sure. A one time loop reset.” You pause in threading your hands through his hair, “Feels so weird. To feel connected and have nothing inside to connect it to.” You had said something like that yesterday, but he doesn’t tell you so. “Was it like this for you? In the beginning?”
You lean over him, your face upside down. “Hard to tell,” he reaches up and touches your temple. “But I think so.”
Maybe if you can tell him things, he can tell you something too. He knows what it is to be afraid to be too much. He hadn’t realized it was possible for you to feel the same.
“Y’know,” he murmurs, “you think this is weird. To me it's…like-,” Bucky hasn’t been good with words in a long time. For you, he’ll try. “-like-like-its devastating.” Your hands flatten along either side of his head, thumbs against his stubbled cheeks. He doesn’t look away. “You’re my whole world.”
You smile, “Do you normally tell me that?”
“No. Like you said. Afraid to be too much.”
“Do I know how much you love me?”
You seem to have a clarity of the feelings between you, that the other you doesn’t.
“God, I hope so.”
“Start telling me. It won’t chase me away.”
You flop down beside him, legs hanging off the opposite side of the bed, and Bucky turns his head to keep you in his field of vision, still upside down to him. You stare up and Bucky stares at the curve of your jaw. He inches closer to you. “I can tell you with all honesty, you are not too much. You’re…strangely perfect.”
He chuckles, “Expecting more of-,”
“A murderous maniac? Nah. Yesterday,” you lift one arm and draw shapes in the air against the canvas of the ceiling, “we went on a walk together. It was the first conversation I ever had with you. You were so quiet and withdrawn. Lonely, like the world swallowed you up. It was nice.” You drop your hand and turn to look back at him, “I thought you were very pretty. I have - had I suppose - a tiny little crush on you. I’m glad it all worked out.”
“Crush huh?”
“Don’t go getting a big head, Barnes,” you smile. “Told Nat about it and everything. She made fun of me so bad.”
The drinks you mentioned having in the kitchen with Nat. You’d been telling her, maybe gushing to her, about a walk with him.
He remembers thinking you’d never look his way again, that he was too broken to remember how to have a conversation. Still, he’d managed to catch you in the common area again the next day and ask you what you were reading. You’d smiled and patted the space next to you, I’ll show you.
It was the first time he’d been late to therapy. You made him late.
Bucky had only wanted to be your friend then, hadn’t had much capacity for anything else.
The love he felt for you had come on slowly as he recovered, like ocean stilt between his bones.
It feels odd but good, something like pride swelling in his chest, that you had talked about him, had a crush on him.
“S’okay. I’ve never stopped having a crush on you,” he answers.
You try to hide your smile and fail miserably and lean forward instead to press your forehead to his.
Bucky closes his eyes and swallows.
He can do this.
~
“The effects of the vapor should wear off on its own eventually,” Bruce says to the team, gathered around a conference table weighted with stacks of documents and cups of coffee.
“Should?” Bucky asks, incredulous.
It’s already been two weeks, and guesses are no longer good enough for him.
“Yeah. To the best we can tell. Obviously we’ll keep looking for an antidote in the meantime. It looks like it was developed for-,” Bruce stops, his eyes cutting to Bucky. “To be blunt it looks like it was meant to be a redo on the Winter Soldier program.”
“That lab wasn't connected to Hydra,” Steve says.
“Apparently they were. Or at least contracted by someone Hydra adjacent.”
“How long will it take to wear off?” Nat asks. She’d arrived back in the compound that morning, and as a result Y/N had spent most of the day with her, much to Bucky’s displeasure. “Without an antidote?”
“They were obviously going for durability, so maybe a couple months. If they were planning on icing Barnes again then one dose would be enough for years depending on how long they left him out for hits.”
Bucky digs metal digits into the flesh of his right hand until he breaks through skin, to the meat of his palm. Blood drips onto his jeans.
You shouldn’t encounter any hostiles. Intel gathering only.
He supposes there were no hostiles that day because he was supposed to have become one.
Before he can stop himself he’s out of his chair and putting space between him and that room, between him and what could have happened that day had he breathed in the vapor and not you.
Putting space between him and the notion that you might not remember for months.
Months.
For months you could be stuck in a loop of endless time, losing a real span of your life to waiting.
Would he have to explain to you every morning?
What if Banner’s wrong? What if it doesn’t wear off? What if you never come back? What if they stop the loop and you still don’t remember anything?
Y/N is still here, he corrects himself viciously.
You are here.
He’s so busy scowling and stomping that he doesn't notice the red trail he leaves behind him.
Bucky wants to rip the world to pieces, but he can only settle for his own mangled body.
He stalks to the gym, changes at the facilities there, before beating the shit out of a sandbag with a raw hand. The old wound splits open immediately, blood flecks the canvas fabric. Bucky doesn’t really give it a chance to heal these days.
When the punching bag swings off the hook, he growls and turns toward the treadmill instead.
Hours pass, the sun fades from the sky.
Despite the tales about him, he is human, and eventually he collapses.
He lies panting on the floor of the gym, his hand stained red, when he hears your voice. “You normally go psycho like that?”
God.
He hadn’t really gotten to talk to you today because of Natasha and this will be your only impression of him. Bucky swallows dryly. “No.”
“Good because it looks like it hurts.”
“Worried about me, sweetheart?” Bucky snaps. He means to be playful but his voice comes out like a punch, like a wounded animal snarling at the wind. He hears his words thump down around your ankles.
For a long moment, you don’t answer.
Then he hears your feet shuffle away.
“God-fucking-damnit,” he mutters.
He won’t even be able to apologize to you, if he doesn’t see you again today. And how could he apologize to you tomorrow when you won’t remember today?
Bucky groans and sits up, ready to track you down, just to apologize for his outburst. He won’t have anything bad between you, whether you remember it or not.
But before he can stand, you burst back into the room, dropping down beside him on the mat. You hold out a hand.
He stares, “What?”
“Hand,” you point. “Now.”
Gently, he sets his right hand in both of yours. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
For a moment you don’t speak, carefully lowering his hand to your lap so you can rip open a couple of alcohol pads. He grits his teeth while you clean the wound in the center of his hand, his bruised, bloody knuckles.
“You left a trail of blood in the hallway.”
“Oh.”
You snort, “Oh? Is that all you have to say? I may be confused and not remember you, but I don’t like seeing you bleed out all over Tony’s expensive floors.”
He sighs, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”
“You should be,” You say hotly. “According to Nat we’re like some kind of freaky soulmates so please try not to bleed to death while my memories take a vacation.”
Now he laughs, glancing at you and finding your eyes already on him. “Seriously, Bucky, promise me you’ll let this heal. Even if I can’t remember.”
The words stick in his throat, a fist around his neck. “Why do you care? You always care. Every day you…you don’t know me but you care anyway. I-,”
You shrug, and look down at his hand in your lap. Slowly, you start to wrap gauze around his palm and knuckles. “My body knows you, I think, even if I don’t. It's like reaching for something you’re so sure is real but it turns out to be a mirage.” It's the third time you’ve said some iteration of that. “We took a walk yesterday,” and you repeat the story he’s heard several times now. But he doesn’t interrupt you.
Your fingers circle his wrist when you finish bandaging his hand. “I don’t remember feeling this…affinity for you yesterday. But I do now. Suppose that’s the five years of memories stored up in my DNA but, I dunno I-I just don’t want you to hurt.”
He turns his hand to squeeze your fingers. “I promise, honey. I’ll let it heal.”
“Even if I don’t remember?”
“Even if you don’t remember.”
It’s quiet for a moment and Bucky isn’t expecting you to hug him. He’s damp with sweat and you’re supposed to be upset with him. “I just want to say I’m sorry.”
He buries his nose in your neck, circles his arms around your waist and tugs you close because god it seems like it's been forever since he’s gotten to properly hold you. It's only been two weeks but it feels like decades.
You go jellylike, molding yourself against him.
“God for what?”
“You’d think the universe has made you suffer enough, Barnes, but you seem to be her favorite victim. I’m sorry I don’t remember and that you have to. Can’t imagine what it's like to explain everything everyday.” You exhale against him, breath hot against his skin, “Have you tried not talking to me?”
He jerks back so you’re forced to look into his eyes. “Now why would I do something like that?”
You shrug, “You could get a day off. You’re stressed, I mean, you just had a fistfight with a punching bag and lost.”
Bucky scoffs but pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “That punching bag is the one lying on the floor.”
“Yeah,” you snark back, sarcastic, “but you’re the one bleeding.”
“You fixed me up pretty nice though, huh?” He says, curling metal fingers around your wrist so you don’t move away, holding out his flesh hand to examine your bandaging job.
For a moment you don’t respond, absently patting the back of his metal hand. “Seriously, Bucky, one day where I don’t know, so you can get some rest, won’t kill me.”
But he’d rather die than be away from you, than have you forget him entirely, even for one day. And Bucky’s sort of afraid, afraid that if he lets you forget for even one day, you’ll never get your memories back.
That if he lets you forget for one day, you’ll remember everything else and forget him entirely, muscle memory and all.
“Darlin’,” he says gently, cupping your face against his palm because you let him, may even lean into it a little, “no matter how much it hurts, being away from you, not seeing you, is worse. I would stay in this loop forever, if it meant I got to stay with you.”
“You really mean that too, don’t you? Like, it's not just empty words. You really would.”
“I promise.”
Bucky has never been one to break promises.
~
Bucky keeps his promise and lets his hand heal.
He tries not to be destructive, and finds it just a bit challenging.
Since you aren’t sleeping with him at the moment, he goes out and practices vigilantism when he probably shouldn’t.
Steve and Sam frown at him, but don’t stop him, don’t comment when he comes back to the compound bruised. He feels better and he can keep his promise to you even if you don’t remember it.
He sleeps for short bursts in the wee hours of the morning, before he goes to find you and explain everything again.
Most days, you’re shocked but take it in stride.
Some days, you take some convincing.
But that’s okay. It gives him more time to spend with you, to reveal moments of your relationship to you, like peeling back the skin of an orange to show you something ripe with potential. He tells you things about those moments, the feelings he had had, that he never would have mentioned otherwise, that he would have been too afraid to admit to.
He dreams about you, in the few hours he gets.
Bucky dreams of the first time you made love, of the way summer sunshine had played against your skin and the sheets, dabbled and fleeting, swaying with the trees outside.
You had smelled of honey, your skin so soft he wanted to bite into the warmth of it.
God, you had smelled like sunshine.
Sunshine shouldn’t have a smell, but against your skin, it had. Warm, like shea butter and coconut.
He really hadn’t thought he could love you more, thought that his capacity for love had already overflowed, but that morning proved him wrong. It proved that the sun was a burning force, that you were the sun, and that he wouldn’t mind being consumed whole, burned alive.
Bucky always breaks from the dream in a sweat, heart pounding, because it feels like it's an omen, like he should relive it because he’ll never get back to that moment.
This morning, he slips out of the dream and into reality like he always does. The sun is just peaking over the horizon, you’ll be up soon.
The timing is perfect, after weeks of practice. You open your front door, spot him waiting, new as the morning dawn, looking so different to you with short hair, a bruise across his cheek, and no peaceful sleep. “Mornin’, Y’N, I need to talk to you about something,” he says, like he does every day, like he would for the rest of his life if he had to.
~
You’re looking through the pictures on your phone again and this time Bucky can see the screen, though you don’t know that.
He can see the picture that gave you pause in a couple of your other resets.
To him, it's an ordinary picture. The two of you tangled together in bed, a selfie you’d snapped when he wasn’t paying attention to what you were doing.
Bucky is staring at you in the photo, a serious look on his face.
He can’t remember what he had been thinking about in that moment.
And he has to wonder what you’re thinking about it now, why it's captured your attention consistently throughout your resets.
He has to wonder if you’re disappointed. You admit to your crush on him, almost every reset, and it means everything and so little simultaneously.
The look on your face from that first time haunts him.
Disbelief.
He still doesn’t know what it means.
Probably, that you were disappointed. That a little crush could shape your whole life, bend it like a wire hanger to the shape of him.
Bucky clears his throat and you immediately lower the phone, a panicked look on your face.
He only smiles and treks around the couch with a cup of your favorite tea.
You take it from him and ask, “How long has it been? How many resets?”
“It's been six weeks. So forty-two resets in total.”
The look that crosses your face is one of grief. Bucky clenches his jaw and looks away, surely you would blame him for the lost time, the forty-two days you don’t remember. For not protecting you better, for letting you go on the mission in the first place.
But you set your mug on the table (he made sure to give you the Budapest one) and turn to him, one leg lifting to tuck in the space between you so you can lean close. “I’m so sorry, Bucky.”
“Sorry?”
“I think I would have lost it already, if I had to do what you’re doing.”
Bucky stares at you, his jaw aching from how hard he’s clenching it, like his mouth is suddenly razor wired shut.
You reach out and touch the inside of his wrist. “Are you doing okay? That’s a lot of days to do this.” With your other hand you gesture to the blooming bruise on his cheek. “Steve told me you’ve been sleeping little and fighting in the evenings after I go to sleep and forget again.”
“You shouldn’t worry about me,” he finds his voice. “You’re the one that-,”
“Barnes, listen to me,” you say sternly, and it reminds him of when you first started hanging around him, not balancing on your toes and treating him like already shattered glass, like he might cut you if you weren’t careful. He’s still sharp and pointed to you, you don’t know that his edges have been rounded out over the years, though you can probably guess. “I don’t remember anything. This is all new to me. Every day I guess it is. You could be lying to me and this could really be day one million.”
You squeeze his wrist. “But everyday, you have to do the same thing. And you have to remember the day before and I can’t think of anything more heartbreaking.”
Bucky sets down his own cup on the coffee table and takes your hand.
He wonders, if after you take the antidote or the vapor wears off on its own, you’ll remember all your past resets. Maybe you’ll forget everything and think it's that first night again. Maybe you’ll get stuck in the past and remember nothing.
Either way, he knows tomorrow you won’t remember, and so it makes it easier for him to say things he’d otherwise hide from you.
He tells you something that he’s said in none of your other resets. “I miss you. You’re here. I didn’t lose you. I keep telling myself I could have lost you, forever. It could be…worse. It could be so much worse. But I still miss you anyways.”
Your fingers are tight on his. “But you did, in a way. We’re…really close, like, so close. In love kinda close. We live together and we’re best friends. You did lose me. I’m still here but everything else is gone and maybe that’s worse.”
The spaces between your words are silent as caverns, as tombs beneath the earth.
Because you’re right, of course.
You usually are.
“So, I’m sorry. Have you thought about taking a day off-,”
“No,” he interrupts. “No. You-you’ve suggested that before. I won’t do it.”
“God, Bucky, why?” You peer into him, leaning ever closer, consuming his field of vision.
He takes a breath, “Sweetheart, it's painful, I won’t say it's not. It's been so fucking hard without you. But everyday I also get to - I get to tell you everything that made us, I get to tell you how we fell in love. I - and maybe it’s disappointing to you - but that’s been-,” Bucky doesn’t know what to call it and so he stops.
Bucky can’t very well say it's been good, because that isn’t quite right. But watching you puzzle through your life together has been fascinating, has made him love you even more, appreciate what he doesn’t deserve.
“Disappointing?” You frown. “Have I ever told you in any of my resets that I have a crush on you?”
Bucky licks his lips, carefully doesn’t move when you press your forehead to his, your eyes still open and peering into his. “Yeah, doll, you tell me every time.”
A teasing smile lifts the corner of your mouth. “Good. Then you know this is like a dream come true. To find out your super hot crush eventually likes you too and you - well you get a very perfect life.”
He snorts, “Wouldn’t say it's perfect -,”
“Ah, maybe life isn’t but this is. You.”
“Honey-,”
“Seriously, Bucky.” You pull away but it just forces him to really look into the heart of you, into the center of your conviction about this. Something tells him its the memories stored up in your DNA, the remembrance of something with no name, and he knows you really believe what you say. “I don’t know if you know this, but most people wouldn’t do what you’re doing. Forty-two days? That’s extraordinary.”
In almost every reset, you touch his wrist, the curve of his cheek, a lock of his hair.
But he hasn’t held you, hugged you close since the reset where you made him promise to let his hand heal. Almost four weeks ago.
He hasn’t kissed you since you fell asleep that first fateful night.
You wrap your arms around him, sliding easily against him like he wasn't a veritable stranger to you. It feels so good, to have your weight against him, that it's everything he can do not to break down.
“So why would I find anything disappointing?” He feels the curve of your mouth against his shoulder, the contours of your shape against his.
He presses his nose to your hair and inhales.
Peach.
Though he had made sure to find your vanilla and cinnamon stuff and put it in the bathroom in your room.
Still you had been choosing peach, though there was no way for you to know that you had changed scents.
“Dunno,” he says and then because he’s already spilling his guts he explains your reaction that first morning. The look that flashed over your face, the look that continues to flash over your face when you look at the books and the photos. “You just looked like you couldn’t believe it. About me and you.”
“Well, Bucky, I mean, c’mon, I probably thought you kidnapped me or something. Why wouldn’t I have that reaction?”
“You didn’t see your face.”
You laugh and rub your hand slowly up and down his back. “I was probably scared. But not for the reasons your mind is telling you. I promise. I know myself. And I can tell you now that I feel disbelief because apparently I get the chance to love you. That’s so strange to me. It’s not disbelief that it happened but that I got the fucking chance.”
Bucky squeezes you tighter when he feels you start to pull away. “You took my dog tags off.”
Your voice is so soft when you answer, “You gave me your dog tags?” When he doesn’t say anything you whisper, “I’m sorry I took ‘em off. But it doesn’t change anything. I get the chance to love you.” You repeat.
He doesn’t answer, throat tight.
This time you’re insistent when you pull away. “Bucky,” you touch his cheek. “I promise. No part of me, any me, is disappointed. Or upset. About this, about us. Okay?” He nods against your hand but finds it hard to believe anyways. “Do I change much each reset?”
“No,” he says. “You’re just you every time.”
“So I’ve probably wanted to kiss that sad little smile every single reset.”
You’re poorly hiding a smile, and Bucky doesn’t think as he cups your cheek and brings you in for a kiss.
The taste of you is like coming home, like the world ending.
And only slightly like the cinnamon muffin you had for breakfast.
You both sink to the side against the couch cushions, shoulders loosening, lips still connected. Bucky tries not to feel like he’s consuming you, tries not to let too much longing slip into the kiss.
But you hook your legs over his lap and cup your hand against the side of his neck and it becomes very hard to think, especially when your thumb digs into the hinge of his jaw.
Bucky presses his cheek against yours when you pull away, and listens to your panting breaths, his nose nudging against the curve of your ear.
“Wow. What a first kiss.”
He chuckles just a little, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.
“The other you had to wait three years.” This time he doesn’t mention the punch, the ice pack.
You gape at him, “Three years? Why’d it take so long?”
“I think,” he says, pressing his flesh thumb to the center of your chin. “We would have rather stayed friends than risk-,”
You’re nodding before he finishes speaking and kissing him again quickly after that.
“Why do you use the peach scent?”
“I thought you liked it better? You lean in when I use it and-,”
He kisses you a third time, because you shouldn’t remember something like that.
Maybe things will turn out okay after all.
~
Your memories fracture back into each of your resets after that, though you don’t seem to realize that they’re things you shouldn’t remember. Confusion has started to reign in you, when you can’t sequence events in your mind.
The day that Stark and Banner finish a solution that could possibly work as an antidote, you exit your room as you do every morning but with a confused look on your face.
It's day sixty-three.
Bucky is waiting for you like always, with hair still wet from the shower and a bruise over one eye, but healed hands.
Before Bucky can launch into his well practiced speech, you press a closed fist to your chest like you’re gripping something there. “Did you take your dog tags back? I can’t find them, I-I didn’t mean to lose them.”
You don’t give him a chance to answer, instead pressing your hand to your forehead, looking terribly confused. “I…but why would you have given them to-,”
“You want to wear them?” He asks.
“Of course,” you answer, indignant. “You gave them to me. I promised to never take them off.” Your voice fades again, “When did that happen? I feel-,”
“Hey,” Bucky strides forward and takes your hand, curling his fingers around your wrist. “It's okay. I have them right here. Got some things I need to explain to you.”
He pulls them out of his pocket, not having had it in him to start wearing them himself again. They didn’t belong to him anymore, they belonged to you. Bucky was just waiting to give them back to you.
You bow your head and Bucky slips them around your neck.
You take a deep breath and smile at him, like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders.
“What did you need to tell me, Buck?”
~
“We don’t know if it’ll work and there’s not really a way to test it,” Banner says later that day. “It’s up to you whether you decide to take it now, since your memories seem to be coming back. You could just wait it out.”
“But I could wake up tomorrow and know everything again? Remember everyone?”
“That’s the hope.”
Bucky grits his teeth and says nothing from his place across the table from you. “How many days has it been?” You ask.
“Sixty-three today.”
You swallow, and look like you might cry.
But before Bucky can reach out to you, Natasha has an arm around your shoulders, you blink and the tears are gone. “I’m sorry,” you say and meet his gaze before quickly glancing away. He’s not sure what you’re sorry for. “I want to take it.”
“Maybe you should think about it-,” Bucky starts but you scoff and the room goes silent.
“So I can forget again? So you can live another sixty-three days like this? And now I’m…I don’t like feeling confused. I don’t like not knowing what happened or when, or what’s real.”
He wants to scream. Instead he clenches his jaw and leans forward, staring you down across the table. “And what if it makes you forget everything? What if you’re reset one last time and start over five years in the past? And that’s it? You never get anything back? At least this way we know you’re getting your memories back.”
“You wouldn’t explain everything to me one last time?”
Bucky closes his eyes, presses the heels of his hands against the sockets until stars appear in his vision. Of course he’d explain it to you one last time, he’d explain it everyday for the rest of his life if he had to. All he settles for instead is repeating, “At least this way you can get all your memories back.”
“I’m not putting you through this anymore. Not when I don’t have to.You think I can’t see how much it hurts you?”
“Can you at least think about it for today?”
“Fine.”
With that the rest of the team departs the conference room as quickly as possible, sensing a coming storm. Bucky and Y/N stay seated until everyone is gone, staring each other down from across the table.
His dog tags glint at him from around your neck when you reach up to fist your hand around the name plates.
“Why do you want to keep being tortured?” When he doesn’t answer, just keeps staring at you, you lean back in your chair and cross your arms. “Don’t be stubborn about this Bucky.”
“I would rather go through this while you get your memories back, than risk you losing them altogether,” he says. “I want you to remember those moments. I know better than anyone that having someone tell you about something that happened doesn’t hold a candle to actually experiencing it. Especially when it's something you did.”
You take a breath, “Buck, listen, I can tell you’ve been running yourself ragged.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does!”
“Why aren’t you more concerned? Do you want to forget? Do you want to forget about me?” He stands, paces back and forth, before forcibly stopping himself and dragging his hands through his hair instead. He doesn't look at you, can’t.
So he stands there, clenching his jaw and staring at the wall like an idiot. You wait, not saying anything for a moment, until his shoulders relax.
“I don’t want to forget. I know how important memories are to you in particular, but seeing you hurting hurts me. Especially now that the reset memories are surfacing.”
Bucky still doesn’t turn to you, listening to the clank of the metal plates around your neck slide together and apart.
“I just don’t want to…I can tell you again. I always will if I have to. I just - I just don’t want to lose everything. I don’t want you to lose me.”
And that truth settles in his bones.
So, Bucky repeats it. “I don’t want you to lose me.” He turns and looks at you, meets your steady gaze. “I don’t want you to lose whatever feeling you had the first time I kissed you. Or the first time we made love. Or the exact thought you had when we - it doesn’t matter. I know only what I thought. I can’t tell you the whole story. I’m afraid we’ll never be the same. I don’t want to lose you, but god, honey, even if it makes me selfish, I don’t want you to lose me.”
You nod when he finishes, your lips trembling just a little.
When you answer, it's with a little gasp in your voice, “And maybe it makes me selfish, but I just can’t watch you do this. I can’t stand to keep forgetting you.”
Bucky knows better than most the fear of forgetting.
“I’m with you either way.”
You keep your eyes on his, entirely focused on him, “It will be fine, Bucky.”
But hadn’t you said that the last time?
And oh, the world did love to rip and tear and take.
~
You swallow the antidote all in one go, with your nose pinched and an uncomfortable look on your face.
You wince when it's all down and then smile at Bucky and tell him again how it's going to be fine.
He hands you a glass of water, which you down, and then just like before he’s tasked with watching you.
Bucky wouldn’t have let anyone else, wouldn’t have left the med wing were it necessary for you to remain there. So you walk together, this time to your rooms, just like the last time.
While you take a shower, he makes tea for you both.
It will be a long night for him, but hopefully you’ll sleep. Hopefully, you will sleep and tomorrow you will remember him.
If you come out of the loop but with memories missing and gone, he doesn’t know what he’ll do.
Explain to you again, he supposes, and work from there.
Listen to your many stories for the hundredth time like it's the first.
Show you everything you don’t remember.
Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he should start again, maybe that was the point.
But he thinks of you never knowing about the way he’d kissed you on the sand at Coney Island, about how there had been fireworks, the roaring sound of the ocean in his ears, how he would have gladly drowned in you.
He needs you to remember.
The mug in his hand, a plain white one, fractures as he grips it. “Fuck,” he murmurs, tea dripping down his arm and onto the tiled kitchen floor.
You appear then, in a cloud of peach and mango, fresh and dewy from the shower. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
“‘Course, honey,” he says, setting the cracked mug into the sink, sliding the unbroken cup toward you. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He crouches with a paper towel to wipe the spilled tea off the floor and when he straightens you’re there, incredibly close, eyes peering into his.
“I mean with me. Lay with me.”
“No. I’ll stay on the couch.”
“Bucky,” you say. “I want you to.”
But you don’t know how you looked at him the last time you’d woken up in a bed with him. Confusion that had bloomed into fear. “No. It's best if-,”
“Please? I’m, y’know, kinda scared. If you don’t - I’ll just stay in the living room then, you can’t stop me.” You lift your chin, defiant, before you continue, “I have a weird little memory, of the first time you ever stayed over.”
You look confused saying it, time and events smashed together and reconfigured in your mind. You touch the dog tags around your neck and continue, “You didn’t want to stay with me then either. But I remember it's the safest I’ve ever felt.”
“Fine,” he concedes, pressing a guiding hand to your back. “It's just because you have a crush on me.”
You wrinkle your nose and mumble, “Pretty sure it’s a little more than that.”
In your room, he lowers the lights, tugs back your duvet, and lets you settle first.
It's quiet for a long time after that, as you settle down, sipping your mug of tea which you pointedly share with him, scrolling mindlessly on your phone.
Bucky thinks you believe yourself sneaky, inching closer to him until you’re pressed against his side, your head coming down against his shoulder.
He wraps his arm around you, tugs you closer.
You bring up the photo, the one of the two of you in bed together. You hold your phone so both of you can see it. “What were you thinking about?”
“Honestly? Don’t remember. Probably something self depreciating.”
“Like what?”
“How I don’t deserve you.”
You set your phone aside and close your eyes. He imagines you’re listening to the sound of his heart, counting the beats. “Maybe I was thinking about how much I love you.”
“Do you?”
“Is there any doubt?”
“No,” you murmur, voice slurred as you slip into sleep. “It's very clear when you love someone, Barnes. Even when you think it isn’t. You wear your heart on your sleeve.”
Bucky doubts that very much, but doesn’t say so.
Maybe you just know him.
Maybe in the morning, things will be fixed, or maybe they’ll be at square one again.
And then, like a new fighter in a ring, a new fear rises up.
What if you remember everything?
Every single moment of your life together and all of your resets?
The things he’d told you, the fleshy inner parts of himself he’d revealed. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be too much, too many feelings, too much rawness to encapsulate.
Bucky tightens his arm around you, pulling you infinitely closer, and begs the universe to let him have this good thing.
~
He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but he does.
Just like last time.
Running on little more than a couple hours rest for months on end, and without you, hasn’t exactly lent itself to his exhaustion.
With your weight against his chest, the duvet tucked around both of you, and the sound of your soft breath in his ears, sleep had been unavoidable.
He wakes to your hand against his chest, fingers tightening in his shirt. Bucky snaps awake, but doesn’t move, carefully let’s you come back to yourself. Your eyes peak open slowly, blinks that take so long he thinks you’ll fall back asleep.
But then you peer up at him through lashes thick with still dispelling sleep.
For a long moment you just look at him and he looks back, Bucky waiting for the look of disappointment or despair, confusion or horror. Your hand slides up his chest, cups behind his neck. You tug and bring his forehead to yours.
“Bucky,” you murmur. “James fucking Barnes.”
“Do you-?”
“I remember everything. Every second.”
Fear pierces his lungs, along with elation.
He pushes you back, back into the pillows and sheets, to hover over you and anchor his hands on either side of you, before he leans down to kiss you breathless and hard. You taste sweet and sharp. “Fuck, I missed you.” Bucky says against your mouth. “God, baby, I missed you so fucking bad.”
A tear escapes and you knock it away.
You hook a foot behind his knee. “You have been holding back on me. How dare you not wax poetic to me about love, our love? How dare you keep your thoughts hidden from me. You feel so much and you never say anything.” You pinch his side, cup his cheek in your hand, run your fingers inside his shirt and up his spine, counting the vertebrae. “How dare you wonder if I could love you back when you would tourture yourself for sixty-three days?”
“Had to get you back. Would have done it forever,” he presses kisses down your neck, over the edge of your jaw. Your skin is soft and you smell like the detergent you use on your sheets, like cotton and new life.
He wants to bite into you but settles for kissing you again, sliding his tongue along yours, tasting you.
Maybe he’s trying to distract you.
From memories of him trying to describe -
“Bucky?” You fist your hands in his shirt and push him away just far enough that you can properly see his face. “I fucking love you. Okay? I’ve loved you back the whole time. I had a crush on you before you even knew what a crush was. I punched you the first time you kissed me because I was so scared to be…I was just the first person you got close to. I was so afraid to crash and burn but you…you looked at me like, y’know, like I was about to kick you for kissing me. But I was afraid you were only kissing me because I was there and I decided it didn’t matter because you said you cared about me, that it was supposed to be a first date. And I thought, it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t last, at least I will have gotten to be in your orbit.”
He tries to interrupt you, but you just keep chattering, “And I remember that picnic when you put your dog tags around my neck and I promised to never take them off.” You curl one hand around his tags, the other curving back to hook around his wrist pressed into the mattress beside your shoulder. “That day was a disaster. You were so pissed off because the wine bottle cracked and the sandwiches got wet and you forgot the blanket and the bees wouldn’t leave us alone. But all I remember from that day is thinking you looked like my future, you looked like a son of the moon. I wanted to devour you, I was so hungry for you, the love you showed even if you didn’t tell me. I would have gladly eaten those soggy sandwiches if it meant I could keep being that fucking happy.”
Bucky can only look at you.
You squeeze his wrist and Bucky turns his hand so he can squeeze his fingers through yours, hoping to never let go again.
“So how dare you, how dare you be afraid I would never find my way back to you? How dare you be afraid to escape the loop so I could come back to you, fully?”
“You really think you would have fallen in love with me again?”
You look like you’re going to cry but you smile so big your cheeks look like they might split, “Honey, I have news for you. I fell in love with you over and over, sixty-three different times. Every reset I fell in love with you again. I have fallen in love with you sixty-four different times.”
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classylo · 4 months ago
Text
ask nicely | bucky barnes
pairings: president!bucky x female!chief of staff
summary: after a heated kiss in the Oval Office, you avoid your boss in hopes that the tension will wear off...he has other plans.
warnings: 18+ ONLY!; smut (thigh riding, unprotected sex, praise kink, sir kink), cuss words, relations @ work... oops!
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eighteen plus only — by choosing to ‘keep reading’, you are agreeing that you are eighteen years old and over. do not interact with this story if you are a minor.
You were tired. Utterly exhausted. You had been in meeting after meeting from sunrise until sunset.
It was almost midnight by the time you began the walk back into your office, you had forced your assistant to go home, one of you had to get some sleep you insisted.
Besides, you weren’t going to be sleeping anyway.
Not when the thoughts of what occurred between you and your boss just last night kept flooding your brain. Every time you closed your eyes you saw him dipping his head down into yours, you felt his lips against yours as his hands wrapped around your waist pulling you into him, the kiss was hard and breathtaking.
It was the way you imagined soldiers going off to war kissed their wives they were never going to see again. It was everything and as you were just about to deepen the kiss, a knock at the door forced you two steps back and him retreating to his desk.
As nothing had happened. As nothing should’ve happened. As nothing will happen ever again.
You hadn’t seen him since, mostly because you kept yourself busy with the meetings all day hoping it would provide proper distance between the two of you so you could attempt to forget what had just happened.
He was your boss after all, and kissing in the Oval Office was probably the dumbest thing you two could’ve ever done, but you did it.
You’ve replayed it in your head every minute since. You wondered why he did it, after all this time, why he decided to shut you up by kissing you.
Sure, the tension was thick but you didn’t think he felt it too. You figured your crush was just that. A crush. That would never go anywhere.
Boy, you were wrong.
You walked into the darkroom of your office and throw your stuff down on your desk, you let out a small sigh as you once again replay the actions of last night.
“Well, there you are.” the low voice causes you to jump.
“Fucking shit —“ you say as you grab your chest, turning around and locking eyes with a shadowy figure who chuckles at your choice of words.
“Where have you been all day?” he asks, leaning back against your office couch that is too often used as a bed.
“You scared me, sir.” you breathe.
“I’m sorry,” he offers half-apologetically as he smirks, you catch a glimpse of his white teeth and ocean eyes in the moonlight casting from the window.
You clear your throat and turn around back towards your desk, not trusting yourself to look at him any longer. Perhaps he just came to tell you last night was a mistake. Perhaps you’re fired. Your mind begins racing and you quickly fiddle with the papers on your desk.
“I had those meetings all day about the health care package, Josh was supposed to be with you if you needed anything,” you state, making a mental note to curse out your deputy for not doing his job.
“He was.”
Scratch that, no mental note.
“Then what’s —“ your words stop as you feel his presence behind you.
You quickly turn around. He is only a few inches from you. You feel your heart in your throat as your eyes lock with his.
“I don’t think Josh could help me finish what we started last night.” He whispers.
“I — Mr. —“
He cuts you off by grabbing your head with both of his hands and pulling you into him. The kiss was just like last night, except this time, you could deepen it.
His tongue slid across your bottom lip and into your mouth and you couldn’t help but moan as his fingers dug into your scalp.
He pulled away, leaving you both breathless. His hands continue to hold your head as yours were clinging to his arms.
“Say the word and I’ll walk out of here and pretend it never happened, but fuck, if I haven’t thought about anything else but you for the last 24 hours. I —“
This time you cut him off, your lips crashing into his caused him to fall back.
His hands found your hips as he pulled you with him, his knees buckling against the couch and falling against it in one swift motion. You fell on top of him, your legs straddling him as you both continued to fight for dominance in your kiss.
He pulled at your jacket and you got the hint quickly taking it off while only leaving his lips for seconds.
You pulled at his tie and then his buttons on his shirt, he was able to throw it somewhere as his hands roamed your back pulling your shirt off.
His lips found your neck as your hands ran through his hair, the sounds of kissing and sucking and whimpers filled your office.
The feeling of his hot breath against your skin as he gently sucked a purple mark beneath your ear causes you to grind down into him. He lets out something between a growl and a whimper.
“Fuck, doll,” he mutters.
You do the motion again, and again, he eventually grabs you by the hips and forces you into some sort of rhythm.
You silently thank the gods above for helping you decide to wear a skirt today. He pushes it up as far as it’ll go on your thighs to allow you plenty of room to continue moving against him.
“You gonna cum like this? Cum apart on my thighs, pretty girl?” he asks, burying his head back into your neck as he plants kiss after kiss.
“Y-yes s-shit, fuck!” you cry out as the tension in your stomach builds just as your coil was about to snap, he halts your motions.
You whine but before you can protest any longer he has you underneath him on the couch, unzipping your skirt and pulling it off along with your underwear.
“I know, baby, you were so close. I wanna see how beautiful you are when you fall apart, but I wanna be buried deep inside you when it happens, okay?”
His words make you wetter if that was possible, he quickly fumbles with his pants pulling them down as he hovers back over you once again. He kisses you once more as he pushes himself inside you.
“F-fuck.” you mumble.
“Better than I dreamed, baby girl. So fucking perfect. fuck, gonna fill you up.” he groans as he slowly pushes into you.
“P-please, please,” you beg
“Please what, doll?” he asks, completely stilling his movements, a cocky smirk forming on his face.
“Will you — please — shit — just fuck me! F-fuck me, please!” you cry, thrusting your hips up into his.
“Ask nicely,” he whispers.
Your brows furrow in confusion and you watch as his cocky smirk grows once he sees you piecing it together. His kink.
“Please fuck me, sir.”
He thrusts back into you causing your back to arch off the couch.
“Fucking shit, baby girl. Your walls already clenching me so well. Thought about this before haven’t you?” he teases.
You’re unable to answer, only moan as your hands find his back and scratch down to his ass.
“I take that as a yes, it’s okay, thought about it too. S-so many times, f-fuck.” he continues.
Your coil builds once more as you begin chanting his name.
“That’s right sweet girl, whose making you feel so good?”
“You! Oh my god — y-you, James, I’m s-so close, p-please” you cry.
“Let go, sweets, cum for me, I’m right behind you. Knew I wouldn’t last long in this sweet pussy.” He whispers, pulling back to watch you fall apart.
“God, you’re beautiful like this, f-fuck, you’re fucking made for me. All mine.” He continues his praise.
Your walls clench around him as your coil snaps. He is quick to follow, his warm seed spilling inside of you and then out. You pull him down into your lips as his thrusts slow down to a lazy pace.
“Fucking hell, you’re everything and more, should've done this a lot sooner pretty girl,” he whispers against your lips.
“James -- we -- this can't --,” the words leave your lips but before you can finish he cuts you off with a kiss.
“Shh, it’s okay. We can and we will, yeah? I'm not letting you go anywhere.” He smiles as his hand tucks some of your hair behind your ear.
“But—“
He cuts you off with a kiss. A sweet, reassuring, comfortable kiss.
“Well, you are right about one thing—“ you mumble against his lips
He pulls back from you, brows furrowed as confusion fills his face.
“I don’t think Josh would’ve been able to help you with that." You chuckle as he rolls his eyes and leans down to kiss you again and again and again.
a/n: who missed president!bucky !!?? <3
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chrisdrysdale · 2 months ago
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Comfort/loving from avenger/best friend bucky? Some creep on an undercover mission gets extra handsy and you pull off everything perfectly but it all hits you once you take a hot shower and still feel his nasty touch and words. Bucky helps you forgot all that - 🦾
Touch
+18 minors dni if you do you will be blocked
warnings: Creep, nonconsensual touches, loving Bucky.
( @buckyalpine I’m so sorry this took so long)
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He picks up his phone. It’s Natasha. She lets him know that it was a shit mission an that something happened but you won’t talk to anyone about it.
When the quinjet lands, Bucky is first on the platform to greet you. Once he spots you, he runs over to you and tries to bring you in for a hug, but you just moved to the side of him, saying that you stink and desperately need a shower.
“Sorry, Buck, just desperately need a shower, I’ll give you after ‘kay?”
“Okay sweets, can I wait in your room” Bucky desperately needed you right now, he missed you so much and with both you and Steve being gone, it’s really took a toll on him.
He followed you up to your bedroom and sat on the bed as you began showering. That’s when it all hit you.
You were undercover as a new hydra agent, a new one on the field. You were wearing a black tac suit with the hydra logo printed on the your chest. One of the hydra agents, got a little bit to close and comfortable with you, touching over your breasts and ass, before trying to slip is hand down between your legs, you told him to stop but he just kept going, luckily it stopped when the rest of you team pull up the building, giving you the sign that it was a success.
In the spur of the moment you ended up shooting that agent in the foot and making your way back to the jet to go home. Everyone kept pestering you to the way back asking if something went wrong but you kept it to yourself but they just kept going, until you were practically in tears just wanting them to stop. That’s when Natasha called Bucky.
You didn’t even notice that you started crying as the water washed over you. You finished cleaning yourself and stepping out, your sobs and sniffles becoming louder in the room now that the shower has stopped.
Then there’s a knock “Sweets, you okay?”
“Yeah I’m good, Buck, i’ll be out in a minute”
You quickly dry yourself and throw you hair up into a bun and put your pyjamas on. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your face all red and puffy from crying. Just looking at yourself, made you shiver. It was like you could still feel his hands all over you. You quickly wiped your eyes and walked out, Bucky standing at the door, anxiously.
When you stepped out, he noticed your puffy eyes and red face. “Do you wanna talk about it” he asked you while holding his hands out to hug you.
“In a minute, I’m sorry Buck, do you mind if I don’t hug you right now”
“Of course not, bed?
You nodded as you made your way over and crawled in. After a moment you sat up in the bed and looked at Bucky, he copied you and sat up. “One of - one of the agent at the base, they eh, they touched me”
“Oh jesus, sweets, I’m so fucking sorry, oh god and then I tried to touch you, shit!” Bucky felt a massive wave of guilt wash over him.
“No, no Bucky it’s okay, you didn’t know”
Bucky really didn’t know what to do, physical touch was his way of comfort, he wasn’t sure what to now that he couldn’t. “Where did he touch?”
“Just my boobs and my ass, just before the bomb went off, he stuck his hand between my legs and started rubbing but stopped when the explosion happened” he could see you start to tear up again just thinking about it
“Oh honey, I’m so sorry, I hope he dead now”
You gave him a little chuckle holding your hand out wanting him to take it. He took it and looked at you “Can I kiss it” you nodded as he brought the hand up to his lips, giving it a quick peck.
You scooted back down in the bed and wrapped yourself up in the sheets, turning away from Bucky. “G’night Bucky”
“night sweets”
It was about 3 in the morning, you were still awake but feeling a lot better and the incident. You rolled over to Bucky, peacefully sleeping and tapped him on the shoulder. “Bucky” you whispered, causing him to stir. “Hey sweets” he said groggily “you okay”
You moved closer to him. “Could I have that hug now?”
Bucky’s face lit up with glee “Of course you can sweets c’mere” He wrapped his arms around you and snuggled into his chest, he began kissing the top of your head as you giggles. “What?“ he laughed out
“I shot him in the foot”
“Atta girl” Bucky said before snuggling his head down into you and falling back asleep.
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heavenlybarnes · 5 months ago
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fluff prompt for bucky having a comfort blanket and the only person he lets borrow it is reader.... and maybe sam relentlessly teases him for it:)
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keep you warm | bucky barnes drabble
summary: bucky never thought he would trust someone enough to borrow the only thing he's kept from his past. but isn't life a funny thing?
word count: 587
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
tags: pure fluff
a/n: oh goodness this request is so ridiculously adorable!! fluff is not one of my strengths but i hope i did it justice for you, lovely anon :)
Bucky is not a sentimental man.
After 106 years on earth—much of that time spent outside the realm of his control—he's come to learn that life is not made up of things, but of moments. Sharing a drink by the lake with Sam. Waking up in the early mornings to AJ and Cass' raucous laughter, the cling of Steve's—now Sam's—shield as it grazes the corner of the kitchen wall. Then, in the afternoon, shouts of boys, get in here right this second when Sarah discovers the spot, paint already chipping.
Life, most importantly, is made up of moments with you. Your fingers tracing circles up his spine. Your lips on his. Moments that can't be boxed up and stored in the back of a cupboard, collecting dust, but remembered, always.
Bucky is not a sentimental man, but there is one thing he's kept. One thing he can't bring himself to give away.
It comes in the form of a blanket, white and worn. Edges frayed from overuse, cloth speckled with small holes from the many times it'd snagged on the metal plates of his left arm, from the times he'd clutched it forgetting he is not a man, but a weapon disguised as one.
The blanket his mother made for him.
It's the only thing he's kept from his past—other than the dog tags hanging loose from his neck—the only thing he's allowed himself to have. He doesn't know how it's survived this long, actually, only that he'd stuffed it in his backpack in Bucharest and it hadn't left his sight since. He's never even let another person touch it, for fear it'd disappear.
Well... except you.
You asked him once if you could use it; you were cold and your jacket was in the other room. And, well, he couldn't say no to you, could he? Not then, not now. Not when you looked up at him with those innocent eyes of yours; when the smile you gave, small as it was, felt to him like being bathed in sunlight.
So he'd given it to you, Sam in the back watching the exchange with a knowing grin. It felt strange, handing this piece of him to you so readily, so easily. Yet, at the same time, nothing had ever felt so right.
You hadn't known the blanket's significance—how could you? Yet you'd still held it as though it was precious, tattered though it was. The pads of your fingers tracing the seams like a musician plucks at violin strings; and Bucky didn't doubt, for a moment, that your touch would bring music. You touched everything like that, even him—especially him—not in a way that made him feel breakable, but in a way that said, look at you. I love you. I want to hold you and never let you go.
You're touching him like that now.
The both of you are sat on the couch, legs entangled beneath the white blanket, feet sticking out because it isn't big enough for the both of you. You're laughing along with Sam at something on TV, hand mindlessly running up and down the length of Bucky's metal arm, and even though Bucky can't feel your warmth, he can feel it. Like nothing he's ever felt before.
"Isn't that funny, Buck?" You say to him now, shifting on Bucky's lap so you can grin up at him. From the sofa across, Sam straightens, a sly smile dancing on his own lips.
Isn't that funny?
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bentobarnes · 15 days ago
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Since requests are open, what about a Touch starved!Reader x Bucky? How do you think Bucky would react by touching the reader and she leaning in his touch, or coming closer, or touching him more often than "necessary" (but not being so clingy in public)?
Thanks already, love your stories ♥️
a/n : i'm glad that you like my work, hon. and i hope you like this as well 🥺
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⤿ word count : 1k
warnings : 18+, fingering, teasing, fluff
*feedback is appreciated. please reblog so it can reach more people♡
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‘Hey, that was rude!’ Bucky exclaimed when you smacked his arm after he tried to joke with Natasha about how much you love cuddles.
He wasn’t wrong, although this wasn’t the whole truth about why you loved to cuddle that much with him. It was his touch, the fact that he was allowing you to be close to his skin… and he still didn’t know.
‘You are awful!’ You squeezed your lips into a thin line and crossed your arms in front of your chest as you sank further into the couch.
‘Okay, okay. I’m gonna leave you two alone!’ Natasha excused herself and walked out of the room, leaving you and Bucky alone.
Bucky signed and stood from the couch, making his way over to the fridge. God, he looked soo hot with this slim black t-shirt which seemed like it was one size smaller. His defined abs were protruding against the material, leaving no space for your imagination. Even his biceps were bulging out against the short sleeves. You couldn’t help but admire his God-like body, and your mouth filled with saliva.
Quietly walking over to him, your arms wrapped around his waist, but before you could realize what was happening, he had you pinned against the cold surface of the fringe.
His hands were wrapped around your wrists, keeping you in place as his leg went to rest between yours.
The harsh material of his jeans was rubbing into your bare skin, centimeters away from your burning core. You felt weak at this moment, and a moan accidentally rolled out your lips.
‘Do you think, I don’t know what you want, baby doll? Huh? You are craving my touch, aren’t you?’ Bucky groaned against your neck, as his leg slightly touched your middle.
‘Fuck… You know?’ Was the only thing you managed to say before his lips attached to your neck, sucking a bruise onto the pale skin.
‘It was quite obvious, doll.’
At first, he didn’t realize what your ‘little’ touches meant. He thought it was a part of the personality, maybe wanting attention or feeling more secure, but he had never seen you doing it to someone else. The way your arm always brushed his while you were watching a movie or how your knee was always pressing against his while eating dinner, or the constant need for hugs.
But as the time passed and he got to know you better, you became more touched-starved than before. He noticed it after you bumped into him while trying to move around the tiny space between the sink and the shelves. Bucky could feel how your nipples hardened just by this ‘little accident’.
‘I love how you respond to my touch, baby doll.’ He hissed as his fingers slid through your wet folds. ‘Soo wet for me, baby. Is this what you wanted all along? You wanted me to touch you?’
Your fingertips were roaming around his wide back, fingernails gripping eagerly as he found your bud and pressed it.
‘Talk to me, Y/N. Is this what you want?’
‘Yes…’ You moaned when his fingers returned to your clit, drawing circles around the sensitive skin. His front was pressing you against the fringe, making a heat difference between your back and front, which sent shivers down your spine.
His skin was radiating warmth but still, his metal arm was cold like a winter morning. The combination between your burning core and his metal arm only worsened the growing knot in your lower belly.
You lowered your head just to see his metal fingers disappearing into you, stretching your walls. The golden details on his arm were shining from where the sun rays were entering the room, enveloping you both into a soft yellow light.
‘I can’t believe you were soo eager to get my fingers inside you, doll.’ He groaned against your lips, teeth, and tongues fighting for dominance. The soft humming coming from his throat as he continued to kiss you made your legs weak.
He was pulling his fingers in and out of you while his free hand was secured around your waist. The way you were hugging him with both your arms made it impossible to not feel the definition of his abs against your own.
‘Buck…’ You whimpered as you felt the burning feeling in your core explode, your walls clenching his fingers inside of you.
‘Look at you, baby. Made a mess around my fingers.’ Bucky hissed as he slowly removed his fingers and brought them to his mouth. His eyes never left yours as he sucked them, tasting you. ‘You taste like honey, doll.’ His lips found yours once again, tasting your own juices as his tongue explored your mouth.
‘Do this again but in my bedroom, please…’ You breathed out and felt his body move against yours as he chuckled.
‘My touch-starved girl.’ He giggled and kissed your cheek before he rested his forehead on yours.
‘James and Y/N, thank you for the show!’ Tony’s voice filled the room from the romcoms, and you signed in frustration.
‘Well, that was unexpected.’ Bucky groaned as he finally removed his body from yours, and the slight freeze from the open window hit your front.
‘It’s not polite to watch people like this!’ You yelled, not knowing where the camera was so you probably looked ridiculous.
‘Noted!’ Tony replied, and you furrowed your brows even more, with Bucky quietly giggling in the background.
‘I hate you both.’ You scoffed and looked at Bucky, who stopped laughing and walked over to you.
‘No, you don’t.’ He put a strand of fallen hair behind your ear and cupped your jaw, thumbs gently brushing your redden cheeks. ‘You’re adorable.’
Bucky lowed his head, and you closed your eyes as his lips captured yours into a slow, passionate kiss. It was different than the others you have shared till now. This one was special because it was different. It was the start of a new chapter in your relationship with him, and you were entirely in for it.
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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 2 months ago
Text
I'll Wear Your Ring | Bucky Barnes x Reader
Hi, friends! I am back back back again- I've emerged from under a pile of work shit to bestow some heavy angst upon you.💜
If you like what you read, throw me a reblog so others can find it 🥰
Warnings: angsty angst
“I wrote you a letter, I said I was better. I said I would never know why you left like a bandit, It's not like we planned it, but I'll leave the light on for a while. And I'll leave the linen the way they've been slept in, the sheets on the bed in a pile. And I'll wear your ring on the right hand for a while”.
Nat’s eye caught the hint of gold that adorned your finger. Her eyes lingered on the simple band and small diamond, the last reminder you’d held on to. Everything Bucky left behind rested inside stacked boxes that overpopulated your hall closet- everything except that ring. “So you’re still wearing that thing, huh?” Nat’s eyes flitted from the ring to your face and back again, instant regret pooling in her chest when she noticed your expression change. Almost instantly, your small smile melted into the dejected grimace she’d come to know. It was the only look you wore for months after Bucky’s sudden departure, so much so that Nat feared your face might get stuck that way.
She watched you stare down at the memento that sat comfortably on the ring finger of your right hand. Memories of the night Bucky presented it to you lifted your spirits for a short moment, only for them to come crashing right back down. 
-----Ten months earlier-----
He’d spent the entire day vibrating with nervous energy and keeping his distance from you, even in the small apartment you shared. The warmth he usually showed you turned up missing, leaving you feeling empty and cold. His sudden shift in attitude had you fearing the worst; Bucky was the only man you’d ever truly been in love with, and if he broke things off with you, you’d be a wreck.
It was only when he presented you with the engagement ring did things finally make sense. And as he sat before you with the delicate ring resting in the palm of his comparatively giant hand, you finally saw what your future looked like. “I can’t- I can’t even describe to you how much I love you…” Bucky’s voice shook ever so slightly. “Every day, I’m afraid that I’ll wake up from this amazing dream and realize that you’re not real- how are you real? You’re so good. So kind. So warm. And if you’ll let me, I swear on my life that I’ll do anything to make you even a fraction as happy as you’ve made me. I love you. I’ll always love you. Will you marry me?”
Rendered utterly silent, all you could do was nod. You leapt into Bucky’s arms and nearly knocked him over, but he’d never let you fall. “Yes- yes! Yes!” you finally shouted, making grabby hands at the thin gold band Bucky still held outstretched. He slid it slowly onto you finger and stared down at it, taking in the perfect picture of you wearing the ring he’d spent months picking out. “I know it’s not much- the diamond is really small. But I promise I’ll get you a bigger one when-” His words grew muffled as you clapped your now ring-clad hand over his mouth. “It’s perfect- please don’t get me a different one. I want this one.”
———————
“Um, yeah…” you reached for your drink and took a sip, avoiding Nat’s eyes, “yeah, I- I like it”. A heavy silence pushed its way between the two of you, weighing down the casual dinner date. Nat stared at you for a long moment, giving you the same look she always threw your way these days: pity. “Hey, don’t- can you please not look at me like that? He’s coming back, Nat. He promised”.
Nat raised her hands in surrender and took a bite of her pasta, granting you a reprieve from her sorrowful eyes. She hated the fact that you were still so stuck on Bucky, still hanging on to the false promise of his eventual return. “I’m not looking at you in any particular way. I was just thinking that maybe…” she took a deep breath, “maybe it’s time you took it off”.
The eye roll you shot at her came as no surprise, and only seemed to spur her on, “Come on. He gave you that ring, asked you to marry him, and disappeared. It’s been almost a year!” You gave her sharp look, warning her not to take it any further, but it was too late. “You can’t defend Bucky forever- he’s the bad guy here. No texts, no calls, no emails…I mean, he gave you a fake address. Those letters got returned to sender way too damn quick if you ask me”. 
Her tough love and brutal honesty scratched like sandpaper against your heart, leaving it raw and bloody. Unwelcome tears blurred you vision and you tried to blink them away before Nat noticed, but it was too late. “Shit- sorry. I’m just trying to help you- you deserve better than this…” As you lifted your hands to your face to banish the tears from your cheeks, the ring caught your eye. It was exactly what you’d always wanted in an engagement ring: simple, dainty, classic. You loved the way it looked and what it represented, always reminding you of the love and commitment you shared with Bucky.
Until he left.
----Nine months ago----
Bucky flitted quickly across the room and back again, gathering everything he needed before his departure. “Where’s Fury sending you this time?” you asked, “tell him he owes me big for stealing my fiancé away from me”. Bucky let loose a quiet laugh and planted a kiss to your forehead as he brushed by the bed with an armload of clothes. “Um, he didn’t say. Don’t know how long I’ll be gone, either…” he dropped the clothes into his duffel and smushed them inside, taking no care to fold any of the garments.
Something struck you as odd. Fury hadn’t called Bucky in the middle of the night for an emergency mission ever since he realized how bad it was for Bucky’s anxiety; he couldn’t expect Bucky to perform his duties when a panic attack loomed over the horizon. After that, Bucky always knew the plan. He knew when he was leaving, where he was going, and always received an estimate of when he’d return.
“Everything okay?” you wriggled out from under the blankets and allowed the 4am chill to creep across your skin, “you seem off”. Bucky’s shoulders released their tension as your hands wound around his waist and rested against his navel. No matter how much time he spent with you, he couldn’t believe what a calming effect you had on him. Everything before you felt like scaffolding, his life precariously balanced and held together by nothing but pins, but you made him feel whole. You made him feel complete. He turned around and rested his forehead against yours, “I’m okay. Just stressed by the middle of the night call- that’s all. You know how I get”. 
With his bag stuffed to the brim with clothes and weaponry, Bucky walked hand-in-hand with you to the front door. “Alright, um…” he cleared his throat, “Fury said he has an address that I can give you- since I won’t be able to use my phone”. He took your hands in his, running his fingers across your knuckles as though it were the last time he’d touch you.
A warm smile stretched across his face as he admired the gold band on your ring finger, but an air of seriousness clouded his eyes as he flicked them up to meet yours. “And I need you to take care of yourself while I’m gone. Don’t work too late. Get enough sleep. No late night runs to the bodega.” You rolled your eyes at him but threw a “Yes sir, Sergeant Barnes, sir” his way anyway. He cared for you so deeply; all he wanted was for you to be safe, and who were you to be mad about it?
His crystalline eyes rested on yours in an unflinching stare. Something dark swam in the two blue lagoons that served as his irises, but you couldn’t place your finger on what. The way he looked at you- it was almost as if he were trying to memorize your face. “I love you. So much. And I’m gonna miss you…shit, I don’t wanna go,” Bucky let loose a deep sigh, “I’m going to be back as soon as I can, I promise. I promise I will always come home to you”. 
He poured every ounce of his love into one last kiss before exiting the apartment- and your life.
——————
“I know you’re just trying to help, Nat. I just…” you rubbed your thumb against the ring like you always did, “like you said, it’s almost been a year. Almost. I don’t know, I need time to…grieve, or whatever. But hey, I don’t wear it on my left hand anymore. At least give me credit for that.” Nat feigned some less than enthusiastic applause. She knew that, even in his absence, Bucky still owned you. He lived inside your heart with no sign of leaving, and you were never going to evict him. 
“I had to practically beg you to wash the sheets. And you still leave the light on for him-” Nat tried to argue, but you stopped her.
“I’m doing my best to work through this, and I know it’s taking me a while. But there’s just- I need to move at my own pace. Whenever Bucky was away, I’d leave that living room lamp on so that, in case I’d fallen asleep, he wouldn’t come home to a dark apartment…” Your tears fought their way to the surface once again, and you swiped at them with your sleeve, “I put all his shit away. I took the pictures down. I washed the fucking sheets. Just let me have the lamp and the ring. I still need them. For now.”
Nothing sounded as good as crawling into Bucky’s embrace and crying until you tired yourself out, but that wasn’t an option- your safe place was gone. Nat offered you her napkin and you dabbed at your eyes, quickly forcing your overflowing emotions back behind the dam.
Nat leaned forward and put a hand atop yours, Bucky’s ring resting just under her palm. Her heart broke for you as she cursed her less than gentle handling of the situation. “I know, I know. And you’re doing great. Really. I’m sorry. I’m just angry for you,” she shook her head. “He made so many promises to you. He told me for months about his proposal and his grand plans for the life you two were going to live together and he just- he’s not allowed to pull this shit. He’s not allowed to do this to you”. Nat was flooded with memories with Bucky. All the times he’d asked for advice on how to get close to you or what kind of flowers he should surprise you with. Nat always had a front row seat to all of your dating disasters, but when Bucky entered the picture, she thought you’d finally find happiness. 
“I just don’t want you to spend any more time or emotional energy on him, you know? He’s a liar. He doesn’t deserve the space in your brain.” Nat wasn’t wrong, but ridding your heart and mind of Bucky was much easier said than done. And even though you knew she was right, you hated when she called him a liar.
-----9 months ago-----
Agent Hill’s phone rang in the pocket of her tac suit. Normally, she would’ve ignored a call during training, but the most recent recruits were stomping on her last nerve. She ducked out of the room and pressed the phone to her ear, asking you what was up. “Hey! Nothing much. I’m just wondering if you have any idea when Bucky will be back? He said he didn’t know how long he’d be gone and it’s been two weeks- just wanted to check”, you waited for a response, but the line remained silent. “And he texted me an address so I could send him a letter or two- I wrote one as soon as he left so he’d get it ASAP, but it was returned to sender. Any idea about that?” Once again, Hill was quiet. After a repeated ‘hello?’, Hill finally answered. 
“Um. Bucky’s not- hang on…” Hill dove into her emails and checked everything from the last few weeks, scrounging for information on Bucky, but her search came up empty. “Hey, sorry. Just needed to check my mission logs. I don’t- he’s not in any of them. We didn’t assign him to a mission…” Hill’s words didn’t register. You threw her a small chuckle and a ‘good one’ before asking once again for Bucky’s projected return date. “I’m serious. He’s not in any of the logs- let me talk to Fury and call you back”, Maria hung up the phone and ran for Fury’s office but didn’t receive the information she’d hoped for.
Anxiety surged through you with each beat of your heart as you waited for Maria’s call, and when she finally got back to you, you answered on the very first ring. Maria didn’t know what to say or how. She knew how much you loved Bucky, how deeply you cared for the man you planned to marry. But she couldn’t help you. “Fury went through everything. Bucky’s not on a mission. We don’t know where he is-” Maria heard the line click as you hung up. 
Hopelessness overwhelmed you at the very thought of Bucky choosing to leave you behind for good. You always thought he knew you better than anyone. From the moment you met, it felt like he could read your soul like a book. He knew about all of the romantic skeletons in your closet, the lying, cheating ex-boyfriends who shattered your assurances over and over again. He promised to never leave even a scratch upon your mangled sense of trust, to keep it pristine and unharmed for as long as he had the pleasure of being in your life- but even that was a lie. 
A deep, empty crater formed in your chest, but filled quickly with sorrow. Tears streamed down your face and dripped onto the shirt you’d borrowed from Bucky’s drawer. The rational part of you screamed at you to rid your body of the soft fabric that smelled like the love of your life, but the romantic side begged you to keep it on.
You slid slowly down the wall and crashed against the floor, holding the worn red fabric to your face. Bucky’s warm scent enveloped you completely, flooding you with happy memories of his body wrapped around yours. The familiar smell always brought you comfort, but the reflexive smile that formed across your face disappeared almost instantly as Maria’s words resurfaced. 
Bucky was gone, and he wanted to stay that way.
——————
��Okay, alright. Can we- I don’t wanna talk about this anymore”, you looked at your watch and motioned for the check, “I still have a lot of work to do before Monday”. Nat gave an exasperated huff and looked down at your plate, still-half full of chicken and pasta. She eyed you like she always did, staring you down until you read her mind. “What? I’m full”, you lied. Ever since Bucky’s sudden departure, you’d had no interest in eating. Bucky’s absence left behind a pervading sense of emptiness that couldn’t be filled with food. As the waiter dropped off the check, Nat insisted that he bring you a to-go box for your “heaping pile of leftovers”. 
“You’re taking that home. I’m guessing your fridge is pretty empty right now, huh?” Nat knew you too well. The only things in your fridge were hot sauce, hummus, and a bag of spinach that had the potential to grow legs and crawl out of the drawer any day. She shoveled your food into the Styrofoam box the waiter brought and practically shoved it into your hands with a smile. “I know you’re not gonna listen to me, but don’t go home and work yourself to death”, her cocky smirk faded suddenly, leaving an air of seriousness in its absence. “I understand that you need to distract yourself, but you go to the office early. You stay late. You work from the second you get home until the second you go to bed- and don’t even get me started on how you don’t sleep enough…”
Nat threw some cash on the table, covering both shares of the bill. You tried to protest, but she wouldn’t hear it, “I made you cry during dinner, paying for your food is the least I could do”. The two of you walked out of the restaurant in silence, both knowing that you were going home to work until you passed out.
Upon arriving home, you put your leftovers in the fridge to be forgotten and changed into some pajamas. Just like Nat guessed, you planted yourself on the floor in front of the coffee table and drowned yourself in work until your laptop looked like a pillow. The words on your screen blurred together, squiggly red lines forming under almost everything you typed. The clock in the corner read 3:37am, and you knew that if you didn’t make it to bed, you’d wake in the morning with a massive crick in your neck and a matching one in your spine- again.
With your last few ounces of energy, you shut your laptop and slowly rose from your spot on the ground. Heavy steps carried you in the direction of your bedroom, but faltered as you passed the very lamp Nat had just given you shit about. Maybe she was right. Maybe Bucky never planned on returning. Maybe you didn’t need to leave the light on…
But you flicked it on anyway. Just in case. 
Only an hour later, you awoke from the same dream you had every night- Bucky’s return. After so many months without him, it felt like a cruel prank played by your own psyche. An overwhelming thirst drew your attention as you sat up in bed, the realization that you hadn’t had any water since dinner suddenly dawning on you.
Begrudgingly, you slid out of bed and opened the door into the dark hall- but something seemed different. Cautiously, you moved down the hall at a measured pace, sliding a hand along the wall to guide you through the darkness. And then it dawned on you: the lamp. The lamp you’d left on for Bucky no longer illuminated the space.
After almost a year, the bulb finally burned out, leaving you in utterr drakness. You rolled your eyes at the heavy-handed metaphor of the light fizzling out like your relationship with Bucky, and continued en-route to the kitchen. It truly felt like the end of an era, the closing of a chapter of your mourning process. Just like that light bulb, your hope for Bucky’s return died. “Ow! Fuck” you groaned as your toe collided with the armchair Bucky used to read in, “Fuuuuuck fuck fuck”. 
“Are you okay?” a timid voice asked through the darkness- a voice you’d know anywhere. The overhead lights came on suddenly, forcing you to squint as your eyes adjusted. Next to the light switch stood the scruffy, long-haired James Buchanan Barnes. He eyed you with concern, taking several hesitant steps toward you before stopping in his tracks. He was bruised and bloody, with red-stained gauze adorning his forearm and neck. Every day since his disappearance, you dreamed of his return. You fantasized about falling into his arms and reclaiming the familiar warmth of his body, but as he stood before you, you didn’t know how to react. 
The two of you stared at each other for a long time, the silence only broken by the ticking of your living room clock. Even if you wanted to move, you couldn’t; it was as if you’d been rooted in place like a tree, able to only sway in the wind. Tears welled in Bucky’s eyes as he looked you over, taking in the first glance of his best girl in almost a year. After what seemed like an eternity, you finally moved. One shaky hand hesitantly grazed Bucky’s chest while the other cautiously cupped his stubbled cheek. “Bucky…?” you wondered how real this could be, how possible it was that he’d actually returned to you. So many of your dreams played out almost exactly the same way, and you always woke disappointed. 
But when his large hand rested atop yours, all doubt fell away- he was real. His warm cheek nuzzled into your touch, greedy for as much contact with you as possible. “Hey…” he stroked the back of your right hand as it lay upon his chest, a quizzical expression overcoming him when he noticed your engagement ring. “I think um, I think this is on the wrong hand, doll”, he tried to joke, but his attempt at humor pushed all levity from the room. Just then, you snatched your hands from his reach and put enough space between the two of you to give you room to breathe. If you stayed in such close proximity for much longer, you’d melt.
“Well, I think you ditched me” you crossed your arms, silently wishing you’d taken off the ring before bed. Bucky stood there, unable to speak, his heart slowly shattering. “What are you- what the fuck are you doing here? You couldn’t call? You thought sneaking in in the dead of night was really the best way to do this?” All he could do was shake his head.
“You lied to me. You made promises- you swore you’d always come home”, you took a brief pause, forcing the emotion out of your voice. “And now you just show back up in the middle of the night like everything’s cool and normal? You wanna make jokes about the fucking engagement ring you gave me? I honestly…” a deep breath filled your lungs, giving you the courage to continue, “I honestly don’t know why I still wear it”. 
“Yes, you do, doll”
“No-”
“You still love me. I know you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You do-”
“And how the fuck would you know, huh? You haven’t spoken to me in almost a year-”
“You left the light on.”
When he stumbled in the front door that night, he never expected to see that lamp waiting for him. It bathed the room in a warm, welcoming glow that always felt like home. He’d been prepared for his key not to work- or to find another man’s things occupying the space that used to be his. But you’d left the light on for him, and it spoke volumes. 
Tears streaked freely down your cheeks and fell against your shirt, dampening the fabric of the garment Bucky didn’t recognize. It wasn’t as comfortable or as cozy as the shirts you used to borrow from Bucky, but you didn’t care. Sleeping in a slightly stiff men’s t-shirt from Target was better than wrapping yourself in the melancholy feeling of wearing something Bucky left behind. 
Bucky’s urge to comfort you raged inside him as he watched you cry, but he knew you’d reject any attempt at affection. “Fine. Okay,” you sniffled, “I do- I still love you”. Bucky’s long-lost smile suddenly reappeared, only to vanish once again as you continued. “But I shouldn’t. I should hate you.” All he could do was nod. As much as he hated it, you were right. He knew didn’t deserve a kind word or a warm gesture from you after all he’d put you through- but he needed to see you at least once. 
“I know. And I- I don’t even know what I’m doing here, exactly. I shouldn’t have showed up like this. This isn’t…” he looked around the familiar room, noticing the changes you’d made. Every framed photo of the two of you came up missing, and all of his favorite books were gone from the shelf. “Um- this isn’t my home anymore. I know that. I’m sorry. I got back and I just had to come here, it’s all I could think about- you’re all I could think about.”
“Bucky, don’t-”
Just hearing you say his name after such a long time without you was enough to give Bucky goosebumps. “I know you don’t want to hear it, and I don’t deserve another chance…but please just let me explain”. A sharp scoff pushed its way past your lips, “explain? What explanation could possibly exist to make this okay?”
Part of him wished he didn’t have to tell you. He didn’t want to admit what he’d actually been doing all those months he spent away, but he didn’t have a choice. The gears in his mind shifted into overdrive as he tried to formulate a way into the long, complicated story, but his mouth moved faster than his brain. 
“I was back at Hydra.”
Your blood crystalized into sharp, icy razors, “You- what?” Surely, you’d heard Bucky wrong. 
“I was with Hydra…” he said again. His soft blue eyes watched you intently, searching for any twitching of a brow or clenching of your jaw, but your stare remained blank. A deep sense of disbelief drowned you completely, leaving you adrift in a sea of confusion. “Fury needed me to go back. One of our SWORD agents was taken- they sent me to extract him”, Bucky began. “I’m the one with the most intimate knowledge of their innerworkings and I…” he fell quiet for a moment, an air of wistfulness filling his eyes, “I know how horrible it is to be trapped there”. 
He took a seat on the arm of the couch and allowed his body to relax for the first time in months. His gaze fell to the floor as flashback after flashback of his time at Hydra flooded his memory and filled him with anxiety. A quiet, metallic clinking sound caught your attention as Bucky’s vibranium fingers played with his dog tags. “Fury called me about three weeks after I um, after I asked you. He told me what was going on, gave me a departure date, and swore me to confidentiality.” His pleading eyes met yours suddenly, “I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell anyone. Fury didn’t even tell Hill. Everyone had to think I was AWOL. Otherwise, Hydra wouldn’t have…” his voice trailed off. 
With cautious steps, you inched closer to him. As though it were an olive branch, you offered Bucky your hand. No matter how badly he’s hurt you, you still loved him- and you knew he needed comfort. He accepted your gesture desperately and with the utmost care, his gentle touch stroking back and forth across your knuckles. He traced lightly across your palm, seeking comfort in any way he could. “If word got out about Fury sending me on this operation, Hydra would’ve taken me out. They needed to think I was returning on my own”. His head fell forward in shame at the thought of going back to Hydra, even under a false pretense.
With that, you took a seat next to him, leaning your body against his ever so slightly. His body heat radiated into your skin, warming you like the sun after a long and lonely winter. Words clumsily spilled from your lips as you tried to make sense of Bucky’s confession, “Wait- okay, so- Hang on. When you said… I thought it was a rescue.” He nodded slightly, but anguish still weighed him down, “It was a rescue- but it wasn’t just a rescue. We needed them to think their Winter Soldier had returned- otherwise I would’ve never been able to get to our agent-”
An almost inaudible whine left Bucky’s lips as you leapt up from your spot next to him. He watched as you frantically ran your hands through your hair, the horrifying reality of his mission ravaging your psyche. “Bucky, what- what if they’d wiped your memory? What if they put you under cryo? I mean, they could’ve killed you.” Without you noticing, more tears began overflowing down your cheeks. “All the hard work- the healing you’ve done- could’ve been gone. What was Fury thinking?” 
Bucky’s shiny vibranium hand outstretched toward you slowly, beckoning you closer to him. After getting a taste of what it felt like to be close to you once again, he was desperately hungry for more. He knew you probably didn’t feel like kissing him or even hugging him yet- if ever- but feeling your body next to his was enough for the moment.
The anger and hurt you’d been holding on to for months dissipated just a bit as you saw your super soldier sitting there before you, dejected and downtrodden. The skin under his eyes was shaded dark purple with exhaustion, and his shoulders slumped forward the same way they had after his first Hydra escape. Cuts and bruises littered every inch of his body, with new scars forming every day. He was broken, and he needed you more than ever. 
Almost automatically, you granted him your hand. And with a gentle tug, you led him around to sit properly on the couch. A quiet sigh of relief pushed past his lips as he abandoned the hard, uncomfortable arm of the couch and sunk down into the familiar cushions. Memories of this couch flooded his senses: afternoon naps with you in his arms, pizza nights and movie marathons, spilling red wine on a cushion and flipping it over so you wouldn’t find out.
He let his eyes drift slowly up to your face and, after a long moment, he finally spoke: “I’m sorry”. Your hand tightened around his, granting him permission to inch a bit closer, “I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I left- I never would’ve done any of it if the circumstances had been different. I just- I couldn’t leave one of our guys to rot under Hydra. I couldn’t let that happen- not after everything they did to me…no one should ever have to go through that”. 
Bucky always worried about others, but never about himself. He knew venturing behind enemy lines for such a risky mission had the chance to end in utter catastrophe, but his heart broke for the SWORD agent he’d never even met. And even though you had always been his number one priority, something in him took over when he got Fury’s call. He knew he had no choice but to go in for the rescue or die trying.
“When I left here, I took a jet to Wakanda. Shuri worked on me- put some safeguards in place to prevent me from being reprogrammed”, he placed a hand on your cheek, “I was never at risk of returning to the Winter Soldier”. With a small nod, you invited him to continue. “I went from there, got dropped near Madripoor, and followed some coordinates to the Hydra base- our agent had a tracking implant in one of his molars, otherwise we never would’ve known where he was. And then I…” He swallowed hard, almost choking on the memory of what happened next. “I just- I let them take me. I followed every order to the letter. I let them think I was theirs to control.”.
The entire time Bucky was gone, you imagined him in the worst scenarios possible. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get the image of his lifeless body lying cold and alone in the middle of nowhere, and it hurt you- but thinking about him returning to Hydra’s clutches was excruciating.
Out of instinct, you ran a hand through his long locks. He always loved it when you played with his hair, especially when his anxiety got the best of him, or another night terror sent him into a dark spiral. He let out an almost imperceptible whimper at the contact, the sensation overcoming him completely. After almost a year without the gentle touch of his best girl, he was finally home. He let his eyes fall closed, finally feeling safe enough to let his guard down. But when he reopened them, the dark memories didn’t dissipate. 
He slumped forward and rested his elbows on his knees, forcing his eyes down as he spoke. “I had to be, um, ‘disciplined’ every day. For disobeying and running away.” He cleared his throat, “so they tried to push the limits of the serum. They wanted to see how quickly I could heal- or if I could heal at all- from increasingly worse injuries. The ripped out fingernail after fingernail. Beat me. Burned me. Stabbed me. Flayed my skin open and watched me almost bleed out.” The sensation of your gentle touch ghosting along his back brought a sense of comfort he hadn’t felt in almost a year, but as your hand neared the top of his spine, he stopped you.
He quickly turned and took your hand in his, preventing any further exploration of his body. He didn’t want you to feel the newest addition to his skin- not before he could warn you, “They branded me this time- that way I can never forget who I ‘belong to’.”
“Oh, Buck…”
He hated telling you all the terrible things he endured during his time in captivity. His pain always became your pain, and he knew diving into the details of his abuse only added to the tremendous hurt he’d already caused. But he’d abandoned you for almost a year, and knew he needed to put everything out on the table if he was going to win you back. He owed you honesty.
“And after months of this- they finally thought they’d ‘reclaimed’ me. And then I had to be the abuser…” he shuddered at the very thought. “I had to go into the cells and ‘discipline’ the captives. I had to ‘teach them a lesson’ every time they fought back or resisted interrogation. It was…” The memories were enough to make him nauseous. 
“I was finally able to get a few minutes alone with our guy- told him the plan, snuck him a few weapons, and we shot our way out.” It sounded so normal, so business-as-usual the way Bucky delivered the facts of the rescue. His flat tone and matter-of-fact statement made it seem like a regular, every day, nine-to-five job. But he was a hero. “I got him out and broke the rest of the captives free- they’ve all finally been returned home,” a small smile flickered across his lips, “so… I’m here”. 
Silence filled the room as Bucky’s words sunk in. He felt so out of place in his own home, shifting uncomfortably on the couch next to you. Returning to this space made him feel like a stranger, almost as though he’d broken into the home of someone he’d never met.
“Why didn’t you call? When you landed, I mean. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?” Your eyes flicked down to the makeshift pallet he’d tried to make on the living room floor. One blanket from the armoire and a small throw pillow had served as his resting place until you woke him up with your clumsiness.
“I thought I wouldn’t be welcome- I shouldn’t be welcome. I know that. But, baby, I…” he stopped himself, whispering a small apology for the once-familiar pet name. “I needed to see you. I thought that if I called first, you’d tell me to fuck off and never come back here. I just needed a chance to talk to you face to face- to explain myself. But then I got here and I realized how weird it would be for me to wake you at 4am, so I just crashed on the floor- thought we could talk in the morning.”
Every cell in your body ached for Bucky. You wanted to hold him close, to tell him just how much you missed him. No matter how long he’d been gone or how badly he’d hurt you, you wanted him- but something in you wouldn’t let you tell him. The memories of long, lonely nights and heartbroken days spent waiting for Bucky’s return came rushing forward all at once, forcing you into an uncontrollable, emotional diatribe. 
You pulled your hand from his and rose from the couch, distancing yourself from him as you poured your broken heart out. “Okay, I’m not- I’m not mad. I know it’s not your fault. You didn’t choose to leave, I just…” you huffed, “you have to know what this was like for me. I’m not saying that- I know you��obviously you had it worse…” You cringed at the thought of Hydra’s most ruthless operatives tearing Bucky apart just to put him back together and almost stopped yourself from speaking.
Of course Bucky knew that his unexplained absence had been hard on you. But after almost a year of suffering without him, you needed him to know how you felt.
“This year has been a fucking nightmare. I mean, being here- in our home, without you- surrounded by pictures of us and all of the things you left behind…I’ve been utterly empty. It was agonizing. I didn’t know whether to move to escape your ghost or stay here in case you came back- Buck, you vanished. You disappeared and I didn’t have an explanation. If you’d just said- you could’ve just told me it was fucking top secret and not to ask any questions. I know how confidential your job is- I wouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t need every minute detail…” Bucky simply nodded along, allowing you to empty your heart of the dark, overflowing sea of pain.
“I called Hill after two weeks, I just wanted to know when you’d be home. When she told me you weren’t in the mission logs….I thought you’d left me- I didn’t know what I did wrong. I mean, you gave me a fake address- what was that about? Couldn’t there have been a better plan? A way for me to know you weren’t just a liar who used work as an excuse to escape a relationship?”
Rage and pain twisted your insides into hard, knotted lines, spurring you on even further. “And I’ve been so fucking worried about you. I didn’t know if you were okay…I didn’t know if you were even alive. It was all so nebulous. I was fucking grieving you like you’d died, but there wasn’t a funeral to plan. There wasn’t a body to bury. Just a void. Nat had to force me to box up all your shit- looking at it every day was killing me. I saw all your clothes and your books and I felt like if I kept your stuff around, maybe you’d come back, you know? Maybe I could will you into returning. It was pathetic…” Bucky watched tears cascade down your cheeks as he wiped at his own. 
After a deep breath, you found your heart rate slowly fall, “Like I said, I’m not mad…I’m just- I went from being newly engaged and marrying the love of my life to wondering if I’d ever fucking see you again…” Your voice cracked as you choked out a sob and leaned against the wall, allowing your head to fall into your hands. It was a familiar position- something you’d done countless nights before as you mourned the loss of your relationship.
“You’re right- I’m so sorry. And the address-” Bucky rolled his eyes, “Fury promised he’d get a PO box set up so you could write to me and I’d get the letters if I made it out. Shockingly, he dropped the ball on that one”.
Bucky’s classic sarcasm and distaste for Fury’s inconsistent nature made you laugh. The sound brought a wide smile to Bucky’s face, filling him to the brim with gentle warmth that made him feel alive again. He couldn’t believe how much he’d missed the sound of your laugh- it was almost as if hearing it had the power to heal his wounds.
“I don’t know what to say or how to make this better…you just have to know that I love you. I love you so much. I’m sorry this happened- I told Fury never to pull this shit with me ever again”. With caution, Bucky rose from the couch and took slow steps in your direction, “If you want me to, I’ll leave. I’ll go right now and stay at Sam’s while you and I try to figure everything out- just please don’t end this. I swear I’ll make it up to you. I swear on my life that I’ll never hurt you again. Please, baby, just-” Bucky’s words halted the second you threw your body against his.
His strong arms wrapped around you, encircling you in the warm, protective embrace you’d missed so much. Bucky’s tears dampened your hair as they ran down his cheeks, just as yours left tiny droplets on his shirt. He noticed you shrink away ever so slightly under his grasp, your body no longer accustomed to his bruising grip. “Shit, I’m sorry-” he tried to pull away, but you didn’t let him. “Don’t be. Don’t let go, Buck”.
He doubled down on his efforts, holding you so tight he feared he would snap your spine. But you reveled in the sensation, smiling as you almost struggled to breathe beneath his strong arms. The quiet whirring of his vibranium arm comforted you instantly; the apartment simply wasn’t home without that sound. Bucky felt your hands maneuvering against his spine, clearly trying to accomplish something behind his back. “What are you doing, doll?” he whispered against your hair, “need me to let go?”  Instantly, you shook your head. He felt one of your arms unloop from around his torso as you presented your hand to him, “thought I should put this back on my left hand”. The sight of the engagement ring he’d given you resting on the correct finger pulled a deep sob from his chest. “You still want-” was all he could say before you interrupted.
“I want you- I’ve always wanted you, Buck. I’ll wear your ring till I die.”
—————————
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jadedvibes · 2 months ago
Note
Congratulations on the 6 month blog-iversary 🥰
If you're feeling this request then maybe the first time reader and bucky are introduced and he instantly blushes everytime she says his name and then he's like try calling me James instead and its even worse and he has to leave the room. 😂 You can decide how it ends
Say My Name
Pairing: tfatws!Bucky x reader
Warning: Excessive Fluff, shy Bucky <3
Word Count: 1.2k
A/N: Thanks for sending this in! It’s a little longer than a drabble, but I hope you like it, I changed it just a little bit! Jade's 6 Month Blogiversary 💜
Like, comment, and/or reblog to put a giant smile on my face ♡
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Bucky walked up the steps to Sam’s place and knocked on the door, a white store-bought cake in hand. AJ and Cass especially loved this cake at the last party, so he figured it would be a nice surprise to bring along on his impromptu visit. He was hoping Sarah would answer the door since she was always a welcome breath of fresh air in comparison to Sam’s smart-alecky self. 
Nevertheless, despite his faux surface-level aversion, he truly cared for Sam. And the Wilson’s were some of the greatest people Bucky had ever known, which is why he found so much joy in spending time with them all. As he waited for someone to come to the door, he peered around and noticed that Sarah’s pickup truck wasn’t in sight, but there was a small compact car that he hadn’t seen before. He thought that was strange, but he figured that would mean at least Sam would be home. 
Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat when instead of Sam, it was you that came to the door. Recently, his old school charm and confidence had made a comeback, but all words were lost when his eyes connected with yours. Gorgeous, stunning, captivating. 
You furrowed your brows as you took in the blue-eyed man standing in front of you. When you heard the knock at the door you thought it was odd because Sarah didn’t tell you that you’d be expecting guests. As your eyes roamed over his features, your gaze landed upon his hands holding the cake — one flesh and one metal. You internally chastised yourself for not recognizing him from the jump, it was Sam’s best friend Bucky. 
“Hey there,” you beamed, leaning up against the doorframe. 
Bucky cleared his throat, blinking a couple times before finding his voice. “I’m, uh, Bucky, or um James,” he stammered. 
Your smile was brilliant, and your presence made his heart race in a way it hadn’t in a long while. 
Sarah told you about how handsome Bucky was, but seeing him in real life beat all the descriptions. He was awfully adorable too, and she didn’t mention how shy he was. 
You smirked, “Hi, Bucky. Sam’s not home, if you came to see him.”
Bucky’s heart skipped a beat when you said his name, a soft smile gracing his lips. Oh, it sounded so sweet slipping off your tongue. Bucky felt heat rising to his cheeks, and he didn’t know how to stop it. 
You watched as a blush crept up the striking man’s cheeks, and you grinned at the sight before you — The boyish smile tugging at his lips as he stood there, meeting your gaze. Sam once told you that Bucky had a propensity for staring, but he never mentioned how cute he looked while he did it. 
“Bucky?” You bit your lip to suppress your smile, waiting for him to respond. 
And then you said it again, and he’d never heard a sound so lovely. Bucky could feel his ears turning red at the warm sound of your honeyed voice; he couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on with him. Exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “Oh, right um. Is it alright if I drop this off for the kids then?” He lifted the cake. 
“Yeah of course, come on in. They’re just playing video games, but I’m sure they’ll be happy to see their Uncle Bucky.” You stepped aside, and he nodded courteously before heading to the kitchen. 
Crap, I could listen to her say my name forever. 
After reaching the kitchen counter, he rubbed his hands together nervously. “Actually, would you mind calling me James?” he asked, hesitantly. He tried to think of a reason, he had literally given you two options and you were free to choose, but hearing you say his nickname made him feel shy, and that shouldn’t be. “I’m trying to do away with the nickname,” he lied. 
You grinned, scrunching your nose as you processed his words. He made very little sense, but you weren’t one to argue. “Sure, James.”
Heat crept up Bucky’s neck as his gaze fell upon the cake on the counter. It wasn’t the name, it was the girl. He looked up at you, completely red-faced and bashful. 
Taking in his flushed complexion, you got concerned. You remembered that he was a supersoldier, and you were pretty sure that meant that he didn’t get sick. “James, are you alright?”
Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, he knew he was acting like a dorky teenager getting nervous at the sight of a pretty girl, so he decided to come clean. Rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m sorry, I’m not normally like this, it’s the nerves. It’s just that, you’re so gorgeous, and it’s not often that I meet such breathtaking women, not that you’re like any of the women I’ve met, it’s just —.”
You cut off his rambling, “I make you nervous?” you asked teasingly. 
He shrugged, “You do.” Now that the truth was out in the open, he felt himself calm a bit, despite how embarrassing the declaration was. 
You giggled, “I feel like I’m the one that should be nervous, you’re literally an Avenger.” 
“Well, technically, it’s —,” he paused, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, can we start over? I’m Bucky, I get shy around pretty girls, and I realize I should’ve called before showing up today,” he said more confidently. 
“I’m glad you didn’t,” you said with a warm smile. 
Bucky blinked in surprise. “Oh, yeah?” he asked with a grin. 
“Definitely, I like it when really good-looking men show up unannounced with cake,” you said playfully. 
He let out a laugh, you were adorable, and your silliness put him at ease. “Well I’ll have to keep that in mind, doll. Although, I should probably call ahead to make sure you’re here.” 
You stared into his alluring blue eyes, incapable of wiping the smile off your lips. His laugh was endearing and his smile so dazzling. It was your turn to ogle, and it wasn’t until AJ meandered into the kitchen that you fell out of the trance. 
“Hey, Uncle Buck. Is that for us?” the boy asked gleefully, pointing at the sweet treat. 
Bucky came back to reality, “Oh hey, bud,” he smiled, patting AJ’s shoulder. “It sure is. Do you want some right now?” he looked up at you. “If that’s okay?” 
You nodded your head, “Sure, it’s not too late. Why don’t I cut us all up a couple slices?”
AJ grinned, “Thanks, Aunt Y/N. I’ll go get Cass,” he said before heading to get his brother. 
You looked back at Bucky, smiling at you brightly.
“Oh, I should’ve mentioned, my name’s Y/N,” you said, only now realizing you had yet to give him your name. 
“Y/N,” he repeated, subtly nodding his head with a twinkle in his eye and a charming smile spread across his features. 
“Mhm,” you mumbled, quickly walking around him and busying yourself with finding plates and forks — trying to distract yourself from the feel of butterflies in your belly and heat rushing to your cheeks at the sound of your name on his lips. 
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certifiedskywalker · a year ago
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Trouble Doubled - Bucky Barnes
Even after everything, you’re still the person who Bucky Barnes runs to when things go bad. Only now, he brings Sam who fails to hide his grin when he sees how James melts under your touch.
WARNINGS: Blood, stitches, and TFATWS possible spoilers (I think I was vague enough)
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“Ouch! That’s going to hurt in the morning!”
“Ha, it hurts now, actually,” Sam grumbled. 
You pressed your lips together to stifle the grin that threatened to spill over them. Unable to help yourself, you glanced at Bucky in the hopes he too was biting back a grin. Stood by the door, slightly shrouded in shadow, you could make out the half smile that played on his lips. Though, his expression quickly melted into a grimace as Sam groaned. Reality quickly crashed back down on your shoulders and you turned back to the man laid on the table.
“You’re not going to like this.” Before Sam could ask what ‘this’ was, you began to palpate his wound. He flinched away from your reach at first, but then settled in the discomfort.
“Mm, yeah, no, that doesn’t feel good, Doc.”
“Not a doctor,” you said, still pressing lightly into the bruised flesh. “And I have to make sure you didn’t crack a rib. Otherwise, you’ll need a doctor.”
“Gotta work on your bedside manner,” Sam said as he winced. You pulled your hands away with a sigh and he met your eyes. “Bad?”
“In the grand scheme of things, no. Just try not to throw yourself off a building for the next few days. Think you guys can manage that?”
“Maybe. Harder to fly without jumping first.” Sam groaned once more as he sat up and the pain seemed to convince him to heed your warning. “We’ll try, Doc.”
You rolled your eyes at him before turning to look at Bucky. Still tucked in the darker corner of the room, he seemed small. His brows were knitted tightly together by worry and you imagined that, if he met your gaze, you would see concern in his eyes. Pushed forward by your own worry, you strode over to him. At your growing closeness, Bucky lifted his eyes to yours.
“Your turn.”
“I’m fine, Y/N.”
Despite his protest, Bucky did not lock himself in place. Instead, he gave in and let you lead him by the arm, over to the table. Sam eyed him with a wide grin as Bucky landed in the same spot he had sat in only moments ago. He mouthed something to the century-old soldier that you caught, but could not make out.
“What happened to taking it easy? You told me after, you know, that you would ease into things.” You gestured to the rags you had used to clean Sam’s more minor wounds; the fabric pieces were now dyed a reddish pink from blood. “That doesn’t seem like easing into it.”
“You didn’t see the other guy,” Sam quipped. 
“I like to think you didn’t leave any of him left,” you fired back as you pinched Bucky’s chin between your forefinger and thumb. “Look at me.”
Bucky did as you told him to and met your gaze. You took a sharp breath in at the sight of him, at how his pupils blew out slightly as you studied his reaction. All at once, the air around you grew thick. This close, you could smell the sweat and ash on his skin, along with hints of whatever air freshener he had in his apartment. 
Was it coconut? Sandalwood? You couldn’t parse out which as you found yourself lost in the blues of Bucky’s eyes. The sound of Sam clearing his throat shook you from your haze.
“No signs of a concussion.”
“Really?” Sam asked, grin still plastered on his face. You raised a brow at him in question before you turned back to Bucky. 
“Why? Did you hit your head?”
“No,” he said, clearly tired of Sam’s commentary, “but if I did, it wouldn’t be a big deal.”
“Super soldier or not, a head wound is a head wound. Can you?” You gestured to his jacket and, with a sigh, Bucky pulled it off his shoulders.
“How do you two know each other again?” Sam asked, glancing around the room. “And why are we in an abandoned building.”
“Hard to trace us back here. Didn’t want to lead them to Y/N’s place,” Bucky said, tossing his jacket to the side. He winced as he did, and then you saw the blood.
“Barnes!" 
With reaching hands, you peeled back the crimson-soaked material of his shirt. Your movement revealed a long gash along his side that, with each breath, sent dribbles of blood to his hip. Sam made a sound of surprise and mild disgust at the sight. You were inclined to agree with another shout, but you were too caught up in how to stop the bleeding.
“Lay back,” you ordered, pressing Bucky’s shoulder. He yielded and you pushed his shirt up to expose the entire length of the wound. “Why didn't you show this to me earlier?!”
“It’s not that bad.”
"You're bleeding," you huffed, "which is pretty indicative of bad, if you ask me. Sam?"
"This is not my battle,” he raised his hands and shook his head. “I know better than to intrude on a lover’s quarrel.”
Neither you nor Bucky spoke up to correct him. In your mind, you came up with a quick excuse: Bucky was bleeding and you needed to focus on stopping it. Sam’s comment could be corrected later. Though, when Bucky didn’t speak up, you felt your chest tighten. As you worked on dressing the gash, you glanced up at him and found his blue eyes trained on you. He was dwelling on your silence too.
You pulled yourself out of the whirlpool of his gaze and reached over his body towards your medical supplies. As you stretched, your chest pressed lightly against Bucky’s, but you swallowed hard and refocused.
“Sorry, need to sow you up.”
Bucky didn’t respond, but he did avert his gaze. He found some spot in the ceiling to stare at instead of you. His distraction allowed you to work without the prickling temptation to sneak glances at his features; for the most part. It was only when Sam moved to stand over at your side you did you look up from Bucky’s wound.
“What?”
“Nothing, just wondering how many times you’ve done this before.” 
A bitter laugh slipped past your lips at his reply. “Too many times to count. If it’s not an Avenger, it’s a masked savior from Hell’s Kitchen. Someone always needs stitched up.”
“But James here is your favorite patient?”
“Sam.” 
Bucky’s tone set you on edge. It was warning, cold, and unlike the teasing you had grown fond of. Sam, knowing better than to piss him off, backed away from the table. You looked from him to Bucky and back again. When Bucky did not dare to meet your gaze, you felt a lump form in your throat. Tension weighed down your tongue, stopped you from saying a word or asking a question, despite your want to. 
“Alright, alright. I’ll leave you be, old man. I’ll check with Torres, see if he has anything.”
Bucky’s eyes remained fixed on the ceiling above you. He was quiet, like the first time you met, and distant. His gaze seemed far away, as if he were looking through the ceiling of this hideaway. After you heard the door of the room close behind Sam, you went back to work on Bucky’s side in silence. 
Carefully, you sowed the gash and tried to keep your hands steady. Every other jab with the needle made Bucky wince. You flinched at his sharp intake of breath and mumbled an apology before you went on to the next stitch. Five apologies later, the bleeding slowed and you gently pressed a crisp, white bandage to safeguard your handiwork. 
Immediately after you secured the gauze, Bucky moved to sit up. Before he could, you pressed on his shoulders again and pinned him in place. Though, you knew you couldn’t have pinned him if he hadn’t let you. Your upper body strength was nothing compared to his, you both knew that.
“Don’t move,” you said softly, “you’ll ruin my work.”
“It’s gonna be hard not to.” Bucky met your gaze and, in the dim light of the room, his eyes looked dark, almost sad. Something in his face, perhaps the dull, yet familiar laughter lines around his mouth or the bags under his eyes, alleviated the tension that had silenced before.
“You told me you wouldn’t. That you would take it easy and focus on making amends.”
Bucky closed his eyes at the disappoint that laced your tone. “I tried. I wanted to, Hell, I need to, but I can’t. I never could.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Bucky began to sit up from the table top, “I’m a soldier. I need the fight.”
You watched as he moved, as your hands slipped from his shoulders and fell back to your sides. He pulled his shirt down over his freshly bandaged wound. When he was covered, Bucky looked back up to you, saw your frown and frowned too.
“Soldiers get to come home,” you pointed out, arms crossed over your chest.
“If they’re lucky. I’ve never been lucky.”
You bit the inside of your cheek at that. He was right. Bucky told you his story once before, after a therapy session left him feeling a bit more dry than high. He told you that he couldn’t tell you everything, that he wouldn’t. He didn’t have to, but you still hoped for him.
“Luck can change.”
Bucky scoffed as he pushed himself to his feet. Now, at his full height, he towered slightly over you. Despite his looming figure, Bucky did not scare you. Even when he told you his story, what he had done, Bucky did not scare you. 
“Yeah, well, luck, or fate, or whatever, brought me to you and here we are,” he gestured to the dusty dwelling around you. You looked around with a careful eye before you playfully shrugged. 
“I’ve been in worse dives.” Bucky chuckled, a unforced sound that rose up from his chest against his will. “Really, I have.”
“I don’t doubt it. But we put you in danger, asking for your help here. I put you in danger.”
“Oh, are you serious?” You threw your hands up in the air, “there’s always going to be danger in this world. Aliens, war, bad luck.”
“I wanted to keep you safe,” he pressed, taking a step towards you. 
You could smell the perfume of the air freshener again, how it clung to his clothes. It distracted you, threw you into thoughts of what his apartment looked like, if he would ever share that part of him with you or if he would keep it locked away with his full story. You bit your tongue to keep yourself from asking, from wasting your breath on a question he wouldn’t answer. His words would have to be enough for you and, as if on cue, Bucky echoed his sentiment. 
“I wanted to keep you safe.”
“How noble, wanting to keep me safe, Barnes. Just me?” 
Silence was your immediate answer. Silence and Bucky’s full attention. You didn’t miss how his eyes flickered down from yours to your lips then back again.
“Just you.”
In the quiet that followed Bucky’s statement, you became frighteningly aware of your heartbeat again. It wasn’t pounding like before, but it felt loud, like it was pressing against your ribcage, begging to leap out and into Bucky’s arms. As if propelled by it, you found yourself leaning in towards his warmth just as he seemed to shrink away.
Before he was out of reach, you lifted your hands to his face and cupped his jaw. Stubble prickled your fingers and palm, though you were far too enraptured to care.
“Then stay alive,” you said softly, “change your luck and come home.”
In your mind, you did not picture Bucky’s home as his mystery apartment. Instead, you saw only this moment captured by some invisible third party. You saw home as just the two of you and the image made you heart beat a bit faster. 
“I’ll try.”
“Good.” 
For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, stewed in the new, easier tension between you. But then your resolve broke and you lips broke into a smile. Bucky mirrored your expression, a lopsided grin resting comfortably along his features. His eyes fell to the floor between you before he looked back into your face.
“Can...can I kiss y-”
“Yes, Barnes, please.”
Without wasting another second, Bucky leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. Your hands slipped from his jaw to the back of his head where your fingers tangled in the soft strands of his brown hair. One of his hands found your waist and pulled you close to him, while the other cupped your jaw. In sync, his mouth moved against yours and everything around you melted away.
No more wonderings or mystery. It was only you and Bucky, come danger, trouble, or bad luck; and Sam who lingered outside the door.
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dilemmaontwolegs · 3 months ago
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Bucky Barnes Masterlist
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|| Main Masterlist || A/N: all reader inserts are female unless otherwise stated. These are as inclusive as possible and only description that may be included is if reader has hair (mostly used in rough smut scenes). Banners by the wonderful @firefly-graphics KEY: ⁂ = smut † = death ⨮ =angst ꕥ = fluff ⧻ = 500+ notes
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ONE SHOTS MASTERLIST HERE
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Family First ꕥ || Parallel Story ꕥ || Prequel Blurb ꕥ  ➴ You and Bucky decided from the start you would be safer if no one knew about you or your child. The Fire Within ⁂ ⧻ || Prequel: Fire and Ice ➴ Enemies to lovers, angry sex Ships In The Night ꕥ || Part Two ꕥ⁂ || Empath/Telepath!reader ➴ You meet a man in the dreamscape and try to help him through his nightmares, the problem with dreams is you forget them when you wake Love ‘em and leave 'em ⁂ || Part Two ⁂ || Part Three ⁂ ➴ You use Bucky for a good time, no strings attached.  Back To You ⁂ ꕥ ⧻ || Part Two ➴ You and Bucky decide to give marriage another try Take You Away ꕥ ⧻ || Part Two ⨮ ➴ Bucky saves you from an abusive boyfriend.
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Make It Better ⁂ ⧻ ➴ Thruple with Bucky and Steve after you get hurt. The Mad Hatter and Captain Underpants ⁂ ⧻ ➴ Halloween special Morning Sex ⁂ ⧻ ➴ A morning wake up of the best kind. Claws Out ꕥ || Part Two ⁂ || Part Three ⁂ ➴ You find two people you can trust with your life. Birthday Wishes ꕥ ➴ Your boyfriends spoil you on your special day
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Two Minds, One Body - Bucky/Winter Your husband owes money to the wrong people and you are the collateral. ➴ Part One ⁂ ⧻ ➴ Deleted Scene ➴ ➴ Part Two ⁂ ➴ ➴ ➴ Part Three ⁂ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ Part Four ⁂
Lioness When your husband, Bucky, is kidnapped there is only one person you can rely on to save him - yourself. ➴ The Prequel ⁂ † ➴ ➴ Part One ⁂ †
Sweet Homecomings ꕥ ➴ You sweeten your grumpy husband when he comes home from being called away.
High Life ꕥ ➴ You help Bucky relax with the help of some weed
Cold Shoulder Steve asks you to be Bucky’s fake girlfriend for an event. ➴ Part One ➴ ➴ Part Two ➴ ➴ ➴ Part Three
Hidden Faces Trilogy You sneak into the party and capture the eyes of one bad boy billionaire ➴ Masquerade ꕥ ➴➴ Facade ⨮ ➴➴➴ Charade
Insecurities ⨮ ꕥ ⁂ ➴ Bucky helps you to see what he sees - how beautiful you really are
Obsidian Nights ꕥ
➴ You manage to change Bucky’s man-whoring ways
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Homecoming ⁂ ꕥ ⨮ || ceo!Bucky ➴ Bucky is so busy with work he doesn’t see the toll it’s taking on you until it’s almost too late. Neighbourhood Watch ⁂ || Neighbour!Bucky ➴ Bucky overhears the cries of you pleasuring yourself and can't help checking up on his neighbour Lifesaver ꕥ || Bodyguard!Bucky ➴ Bucky is more than just your bodyguard he is your lifesaver in every sense of the word No Boundaries ꕥ || Best-friend!Bucky ➴ Bucky has no boundaries in your friendship Truth Hurts ⨮ || best-friend!Bucky ➴ Steve is not the man you thought he was and Bucky helps you to realise that. Ignescent ⁂ || demon!Bucky ➴ When Bucky entered your room you never expected to be attracted to the monster of the night. The Heart Song || greek gods/soulmate AU You are fated to a man that you hate. ➴ Part One ⨮ ꕥ ➴ ➴ Part Two ⨮ ꕥ Lost Boy ⨮ ꕥ ⁂ ⧻ || bodyguard!Bucky ➴ When Bucky returns after years away, you find your feeling are the only thing that didn’t change. Run These Streets ꕥ || Part Two ⁂ || Part Three ||streetracer!Bucky ➴ When tragedy nearly strikes Bucky, you can’t hold back you feelings any longer.  Wake Up ꕥ || Dad!Bucky ➴ Bucky waking you up sweetly after being away from home The Cost of Kindness || King!Bucky ➴ An innocent interaction leads you to a marriage you didn’t ask for. Body Heat || best friend! Bucky ➴ A holiday with your best friend Bucky leads to some sweet confessions
RETRIBUTION MC MASTERLIST || biker!Bucky
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Breaking and Entering - complete ➴ You break into Bucky's house and steal more than just his dog tags
From Heartbreak To Happiness - complete ➴ Moving on from Steve seemed impossible until you meet Bucky
The Contingency Plan - complete ➴ A woc!reader in 1930's New York has to navigate life with a white man
The Surrogate - complete ➴ You are the surrogate for Natasha's baby but that doesn't mean you can't find love for yourself. Canon timeline and deaths.
Favourite Things - complete ➴ Dreamscape to reality, something calls you to Bucky and you just have to answer
Hands That Heal - complete ➴ You find someone strong enough to carry your baggage, and open jars.
Killing Time - incomplete ➴ AU - Bodyguard!Bucky, forbidden love, falling for the bosses daughter (you).
Letters After Dark - incomplete ➴ An archive of letters sent between you and Bucky when he enlists in the army.
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{ Drabble #1 || Bucky Barnes } { Double Drabble #1 || Bucky Barnes } { Quindrabble #1 || Bucky Barnes } { Quindrabble #2 || Bucky Barnes } { Quindrabble #3 || Bucky Barnes }
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1K notes · View notes
nony-bear · 3 months ago
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Matched Masterlist
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This blog and ALL posts are for people 18 + ONLY.
I do not give permission for my works to be re-uploaded or copied in any way or form including translations.
Photo Found Here // Banner Made By Me 
Main Masterlist
Full Marvel Masterlist
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Parings: Alpha Bucky Barnes X Omega Reader
Summary: Bucky Barnes always dreamed of settling down with a mate but after decades of trauma leaving him a grumpy old man with a robotic arm he’s convinced no one could love an alpha like him. Begrudgingly he follows his therapist advice and enrolls in the Swan Program a mate matching program offered but the new aged bio-tech company Mate-Tech.
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V
Part IV (Coming Soon)
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654 notes · View notes
tuiccim · 4 months ago
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I Really Love Being Your Friend
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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-Size Female Reader
Word Count: 1.3k
Warnings: Mutual pining, idiots in love, angst, body insecurity.
A/N: Thank you to my lovely beta readers, @cwbucky​. All mistakes are my own.
I Really Love Being Your Friend Masterlist
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“Hey,” you smile at Bucky as he lets you in. 
“Hey, doll. Uh, so, I just got off the phone with Sam,” he holds it up as if to provide evidence.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, he and Joaquin were called away.”
“Oh, okay. Do you still want to watch the movie or…” you let yourself trail off. 
“Yeah, yeah, if you do.”
“Yeah,” you smile and sit on one end of the couch.
“Have you been doing okay, doll?” Bucky asks as he sits on the opposite end. 
“Pretty good. Working mostly. How about you?”
“Same,” Bucky says as he sets a pizza and drinks on the table. 
“My favorite!” you grin as you grab a slice. 
“I know,” Bucky chuckles as he starts the movie. He reaches above his head and flicks the lights off as the movie starts plunging the room into darkness. 
You're grateful for the dark to cover the heat spreading through your cheeks. You're sure Bucky didn't mean anything by the comment but you still chastened yourself for enthusing over the food. You remind yourself to eat slowly and decide not to go for a second piece. 
Your body issues were well seated in your psyche. Growing up always being labeled plus-sized, big-boned, or just plain fat has made you very conscious of other people's opinions and judgements. You were still surprised at times that Bucky, Sam, and Joaquin had struck up a friendship with you. You loved being around them, but you had stupidly formed a very big crush on Bucky. There was no way you were his type but that hadn't stopped your idiotic brain from falling for him hard.
"Another slice, doll?" Bucky's voice pulls you out of your self-deprecating thoughts.
"No, I'm good."
"Come on, it's your favorite. One slice isn't much of a dinner," Bucky holds a slice out.
"Uh, yeah, I guess I could eat one more," you give him a small smile.
"That's my girl."
That's what does it to you right there. The way he talks to you, the pet names, and the constant kind treatment. Fuck, I'm pathetic, you think to yourself. One kind word and you're practically smitten. You look across at him and wish you stood a chance. 
Halfway into the movie, you decide that even if you can't have him, you would enjoy your friendship with him as much as you could. You really do love being around him, Sam, and Joaquin. 
You lift yourself up on your knees and point behind Bucky's head, "Do you mind if I use that blanket?"
"Yeah, of course," Bucky hands it to you. When you settle back onto the couch you sit in the middle seat next to Bucky. "You cold, doll?"
"A little.”
“Come here,” Bucky puts an arm around your middle and pulls you against him. He leaves his arm around you with his hand on your hip. 
You snuggle into him, “Thanks.”
“Anytime, doll.”
God, this is what you wanted. You wanted him to hold you. You wanted him so badly. Your attention was no longer on the movie. All you could think about was his hand on your hip. His fingers would occasionally flex making small circles. Maybe, maybe he could have feelings for you, too. A shot rings out in the movie and you jump. Bucky’s hand moves to your waist and he looks down at you, smiling. 
“You okay?”
“Yeah, sorry. I don’t know why that surprised me,” you lift a hand in a vague gesture and allow it to drop onto his thigh. His arm flexes around you pulling you a little closer. This is stupid. You want him so badly but you know you would end up being some chick to fuck when he’s bored and horny. Friends with benefits was a term you were more than familiar with. You would love to think Bucky would never suggest such an arrangement, but he was way out of your league. There’s no way he would date the fat girl. Maybe you should just throw caution to the wind and enjoy whatever Bucky would be willing to give you. Wouldn’t having part of him be worth it? It’d just be another ding to your self-esteem, no big deal, right? Bucky’s hand is softly rubbing up and down your side and all of your concentration is on the warm feeling coursing through you. 
When the movie credits roll, you take a deep breath. You remind yourself that Bucky is just your friend. He’s just cuddling with you during a movie because it’s cozy and that’s what friends do while watching a movie. Nothing is going to hap-
“Doll?”
“Yeah, Buck?” you look up at him and the way he’s looking at you makes your heart burn. His arm tightens around you and his metal hand caresses your cheek before tipping your chin up. His lips descend on yours and you give in to the moment, kissing him back in earnest. Your lips don’t part until you're both practically breathless and, even then, they’re only separated for mere seconds before you were pulled back together like two magnets. Bucky maneuvers the two of you until he hovers above you, your back against the arm of the couch. 
Your brain is running wild with thoughts. How good he feels. How soft his lips are. How good a kisser he is. Maybe he does feel something for you. He could. No, this is stupid. It’s going to be the same as always. You’ll be heartbroken and he’ll just count you as another desperate woman who let him use you. Worst of all, you’ll lose his friendship. 
You pull back, breathing heavily, “Stop, please.”
Bucky’s POV
Bucky’s heart speeds up when you sit closer to him and he couldn’t resist the opportunity to pull you close. He had to rein in his smile when you snuggle into him. He wonders if Sam and Joaquin had really been called in or if they had realized how enamored Bucky is with you. 
You were special to him. He had immediately seen how beautiful you are but more than that you’re funny, kind, and smart. He was worried he was pushing it with his arm around you and then, as if involuntarily, his hand kept making circles on your hip and rubbing up and down your side.
When the movie ends, he can’t stop himself from taking the chance. When you look up at him with doe eyes, his heart melts. The only thing he can think of doing is pressing his lips to yours and hoping you felt the same about him. You kiss him back and his heart is ready to explode. When you finally separate for a few seconds, he takes in your beautiful features, but he needs another taste. He can’t resist feeling your perfect lips against his again. 
He leans into you, moving you underneath him, feeling you against him. One hand around your back and the other caressing your neck, but Bucky knows he has to pull away soon. He needs to tell you how he feels. He wants you to know. 
Then his heart plummets, you pull away, asking him to stop as if you’re scared he wouldn’t. 
“Doll, You okay?” Bucky asks as he sits back, giving you room. 
“I can’t… I can’t do this. I’m sorry,” you stand up. 
“We don’t. We don’t have to do anything,” Bucky reassures you. 
“I’m sorry. I just don’t want to mess up our friendship,” you wring your hands as you look at him. 
“I understand,” Bucky says, crestfallen, as he watches you put your shoes on and move to the door. 
Before you close the door, you look back at him, “I really love being your friend.”
“Me, too, doll,” Bucky nods. 
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Part Two 
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softlybarnes · 4 months ago
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valentine
Summary: You're Bucky's neighbor, Bucky is your secret admirer. Valentine's day and a potential date forces him to act.
Pairing: Bucky X Reader
Word Count: ~3.9k
Warnings: neighbors to friends to lovers, cheesy, valentines day themes
A/N: This was entirely self indulgent so I hope y'all like it. Please let me know what you think!
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It was early summer the first time Bucky caught sight of you in the lobby of his building. You had been standing in the entryway with a cardboard box hitched on your hip as you chatted with the mailman that serviced the building.
It had been hot.
The kind of hot that made him feel like he was drowning, like the heat was under his skin and inside his bones, like it was suctioned sharp and heavy to his lungs in a grip that would never loosen.
And yet none of that would come to compare to the way you would come to make him feel.
He hadn’t known it then, but everything about you would hang inside him like warm summer sun, deep inside his bones, pressed to the inside of his skin.
You would make him feel, when he so often felt nothing, running on autopilot most days.
You would make him feel like –
Like the cling film of shame didn’t always have to stick to him.
Like the ocean of you could drown him under your skin, and he would be happy.
You had reminded him of the jeweled green of trees in bloom, like spring and summer and heat and heart.
The smell of asphalt and diesel and clean rain had been shifting on the air that summer afternoon. It had been the first day of sunshine after days of rain, the city purged of itself, cleansed of itself.
Shedding its skin to begin again.
And, it had seemed to him, heralding your arrival in the building.
Your skin had been dewy, glowing, in the warm golden light of the afternoon.
You had been laughing, saying, hold on, I think I have a bottle of water. S’hot out there today.
Bucky never checked his mail, but he had needed a reason to linger in the foyer, to watch you.
Such a small kindness, and still it had been something that made him pause, made him want to fall into your orbit.
The mailman had swiped sweat from his brow, smiled, adjusted the satchel on his shoulder. You’d handed him the bottle of water.
He had thanked you, told you how he hated Amazon, that he’d look out for the letter you’d been expecting from your mother.
Don’t know many people that write anymore. It’s all junk mail and bills and packages.
Oh, not me. I love to get mail.
And so, you did. And so, you do.
And so, Bucky starts checking his damn mail every single day.
Quickly, he figures out your schedule. When you’re most likely to be at your mailbox.
Without fail, he manages to catch you. He finds out that you demand letters from friends and relatives. He finds out that you write and send letters almost daily.
You’re friendly with the mailman, sometimes leaving snacks out in the lobby. You give him a card with a tip at every holiday.
You love mail.
Not just packages but letters. Junk mail. Credit card statements. Water bills.
You delight in it all.
You’re the only person, the only modern person, he knows in the city that checks the mail every single day without fail.
It’s totally and completely bizarre but Bucky comes to love the mail too.
If only because he gets to see you, and maybe because he had thought people didn’t really do the letter thing anymore.
He gets to chat with you for a few minutes each day with a stack of useless paper in his hands. Your smile is like sunshine on a cold day. Your laugh like a balm against bruised skin. You always smell like vanilla and coffee, and he finds out that you work at a coffee shop to supplement your income from your office job.
Bucky treasures those talks, mourns the days that he’s away on assignment and doesn’t get to see you.
One day, he gets up the nerve to ask you down the street to a diner. He buys you dinner and tries to feel like he’s not the luckiest man in the universe for getting to sit across from you and listen to you complain about customers, for getting to watch you smile and laugh and sip on a terrible cup of coffee.
True friendship blooms between you that day. Like the seed of a relationship had only needed the smallest drop of water to sprout.
Bucky starts finding letters from you after that, on paper that smelled like vanilla. Just silly little anecdotes that made him smile, dropped among the ads and useless magazines.
You start hosting movie nights at your place where you burn incense and talk to your plants like they’re beloved children. In the darkness of your tiny studio, squished close to you on your beaten up, faded couch that you’d gotten at a curb sale, he falls in love with you maybe just a little bit.
He tells himself that he’s not falling in love with you, he’s definitely not. You’re friends and nothing more. And Bucky needs a friend, his therapist tells him so at every turn.
So what if he dreams about you almost every night? So what if he treasures the scent you leave behind on his clothes after a night in? So what if sitting close to you on that ancient sofa, his thigh pressed to yours, shoulder to shoulder, is one of the greatest joys of his life? So what if his heart almost beat out of his chest the day you laid your head against his arm while watching a favorite movie of yours?
So fucking what?
He’s happy to have you.
As a friend.
Does he sometimes sleep with the shirt he wore to your place over his pillow? Maybe. But it's only because the lingering scent of your lavender incense helps him sleep.
It has nothing to do with the smell of you. Like vanilla and coffee, lavender and bergamot.
It has absolutely nothing to do with staying close to you.
It has nothing to do with hoping he’ll wake up smelling like you just a little bit, just to keep you close.
Bucky convinces himself that it's normal to perfectly time his trip to the mailbox every day, just to talk to you, just to make sure that you’re okay.
Until, a few weeks before Valentine’s Day, in the deep chill of an arctic blast that had descended over the city at the end of January, you’d told him about your meddling coworker at your office job.
“She keeps trying to set me up with one of our other coworkers,” you had wrinkled your nose. “I’m not really interested but I’m thinking maybe I’ll go just to shut her up about it.”
And what if you went and felt something?
What if he lost you?
But what is there to lose, really?
You weren’t his.
You don’t belong to him, though he feels like he’s entirely yours.
Pressed close to you in the darkness of your apartment, TV screen flashing brightly over your features, he had wondered why he thought you’d ever want him in that way, see him that way.
Your features had been soft in the low light.
You’d lit the lavender incense again, which he was beginning to think might be for his benefit. You know he has trouble sleeping.
“Maybe I’ll get a Valentine out of it,” you’d said sleepily. “I’ve never had one before.”
And that had convinced him to try.
He could be your valentine.
You made him believe he could be, that maybe he was worthy of that.
~
You’re standing in front of your open mailbox, wearing an enormous pink knitted scarf, when Bucky ducks in from the winter storm swirling outside. The winter has been particularly brutal, one snowstorm after another making his anxiety flare like an emergency signal.
His heart almost stutters to a stop as he pauses in the entryway, glued to the spot. He hadn’t expected you to still be in the foyer, and immediately he recalculates his carefully thought through plan.
While he hadn’t expected you to be in the lobby, Bucky certainly hadn’t expected to find you wearing the scarf he had left anonymously in front of your door two days ago.
He’s glad you like it enough to wear it.
Just like he was glad that you liked the flowers he left a few days before that enough to post them on Instagram, enough to talk to them like the rest of your plants, thanking them for their contribution to the little garden of your window before they wilted and withered away.
It does make him worry just a tad that you’ve so easily accepted gifts from a stranger, anonymously dropped in front of your door or through your mail slot.
Now, you slowly shuffle through the letters in your hands, frowning gently at the junk mail.
He swallows, watching you flick past an electric bill, smile at a letter from your grandmother, before you get to the last envelope in the pile.
You frown and flip it over when someone ducks past him into the building, reminding him that he’s standing in the open doorway like an idiot, the bag of pastries from your favorite bakery in his hand probably freezing.
Bucky tries not to think about the way the corner of your mouth ticks up into a smile, your eyes widening just a bit, when you see the script on the back of the baby pink envelope.
He curses under his breath and heads in your direction. You look up at his approach, stuffing the pink letter between two pieces of junk mail. “Oh, hey, Bucky,” you say, smiling so big it looks like it hurts. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”
Bucky’s heart jumps into his throat and he almost chokes on it. “Happy Valentine’s Day, doll.”
You try and fail to suppress another smile, “Staying in this Valentine’s Day?” You nod at the bag in his hand.
“Guess you could say that.”
The door to the building opens again and you shiver as a gust of wind snakes through the lobby. “No world saving on the agenda then?”
“Well, the night is young,” he says drily. “The world has gone to shit in less time.”
You laugh and his heart flutters just a little bit. He feels like a kid around you, like the world is light and would never need saving again, not by him or from him.
“Here’s to hoping then. I’ll light a candle for you.” You eye him for a moment, one eyebrow lifted. “No date this Valentine’s Day?”
He snorts, even as his heart hammers, turning his ribs into a mosaic of black and blue with the force. If he’s lucky, you’ll be his date by the end of the night. “Don’t exactly have people lining up. What’re you up to tonight, sweetheart?” Bucky asks as you lock your mailbox.
You lift your pile of mail and shake it at him, “Gettin’ my mail.” The corner of your mouth twitches and Bucky tries not to let his eyes linger on your lips, or, more dangerously, on the pink letter peeking out of the stack.
The letter he had slipped into your mail slot yesterday.
“Other than getting your mail,” he says as you start towards the stairs and begin to climb. Bucky lags, deliberately walking slowly to prolong your time together, trying to work up the nerve to ask you over to his place. “No Valentine’s date for you either? Manage to avoid the date with the coworker?”
“Ugh. Yes. But now I’m totally avoiding this horrible speed dating thing my friend wants me to go to. She’s convinced it’ll be fun. It’s themed for Valentine’s Day.” You wrinkle your nose at him. “I think it sounds like the ninth circle of hell. So, I’m staying in with my book. I mean, I deserve it right? I’ve already put in so much effort into avoiding that date with my coworker.”
Bucky is grateful that you think the speed dating thing is hell.
His crush on you has rapidly turned into an obsession. And he knows himself well enough to know that he would absolutely sabotage that speed dating gig. Bucky isn’t about to let anything ruin his plan. He hasn’t spent the last two weeks meticulously playing the twelve days of Christmas Valentine’s Day style for something like speed dating to ruin it.
In addition to the flowers and scarf, he’d sent you a reservation to your favorite restaurant that you can’t really afford, your favorite brand of chocolate, a box of tiny candy hearts which he’d been present for when you found in them in your mailbox and laughed yourself sick over, delighted. He’s given you a sweater and a new perfume, a book, incense.
Maybe he’s not good with words, but he knows you well enough to know what you’ll love, even if it isn’t him.
Nerves are clawing at the inside of his skin by the time you stop outside your door, trying to work up the courage to ask you to come over.
Conveniently, he’d stopped at your favorite bakery. Conveniently, he’d ordered all your favorite goodies.
“-so glad someone sent me this scarf, I mean, the radiator has been broken for a week and its fucking cold. Landlord keeps promising to send someone but-,”
“I’ll take a look at it for you, honey.”
You peer at him, an odd emotion swimming in your eyes before it darts away, and you smile. “What would I do without you? Thanks, Buck.” You say, like it means nothing. Like every nerve inside him doesn’t light up at the thought you of you needing him for something as mundane as maintenance.
You pause and then continue, fidgeting just a bit, “I’d love to know who keeps sending me stuff.” Your tone is carefully light, but a little bit of sadness is hiding in the back of your throat. “Would like to thank them.” You don’t meet his eyes as you say it.
He hums, watching you fumble with your key, “What if you have a stalker or something, Y/N? Wish you’d be a little more careful.”
“Worried about me, Barnes?” You tease. Bucky just stares at you. Of course, he is. He’s always worried about you. You roll your eyes, “I get good vibes and intentions from these gifts. I think I would know if they carried bad energy.”
“You’re kidding right? This is how you end up on Dateline-,”
“Oh hush, let me enjoy my silly little gifts. I’ve never had a secret admirer. Or even a valentine. And besides, you’re in the building. I'm sure you’d know if I were in any danger. You probably already investigated and know who they are.” You send him a smile that makes his heart feel like cracked eggshell and turn to your door, “The worst thing about this apartment is that it's three floors up with no elevator,” you huff, finally jamming your key into the lock. “I guess I’ll-,”
Panic surges up his throat. It's now or never.
“You’ve never had a valentine?” He asks, stalling for time, though you had told him the night he decided to be your valentine this year.
“Some of us can’t pull ladies like you, Barnes,” you tease, bumping your shoulder against his. “I mean, I’ve had partners on Valentine’s Day in the past just not, like, a valentine, y’know? Like someone who sends you sappy little notes and just loves love.”
God were you about to be disappointed when you found out it was him.
He’s your fucking valentine. Your secret admirer.
While he’d planned to ask you over to dinner, Bucky would also like to delay you looking at that fucking envelope he stuffed in your mailbox like it was nothing.
It's not time for you to read it yet.
The letter is a security blanket for when everything inevitably goes to hell.
Really, it's a good thing he’d caught you in the foyer. If you’d already gotten your mail, likely you would have ripped open the letter and read it right away.
“You could come over,” he says. “Got enough here to feed an army,” he lifts the bag or pastries. “We can watch that new show you were telling me about yesterday.”
He doesn’t expect is for you to hesitate. Normally, you readily agree to an evening spent together.
You finally wrench your door open.
It swings in and you gaze down at the pile of mail in your hands. “Um,” you shift from foot to foot. “Y’know I-,”
You stop, seeming to consider how to continue, thumbing at the pink paper.
And Bucky finds himself jealous.
Of a letter.
That he sent.
He’s jealous of himself.
You want to read the anonymous letter from your valentine rather than spend time with him.
Maybe his heart sinks to the bottom of his belly, maybe his soul turns to ash in his mouth.
Better give up now.
“Don’t worry about it, hon-,” he starts, even though you not agreeing to come over would ruin everything, when you seem to snap out of it.
“No,” you smile and toss the mail on the counter by the door. “Of course. I’d love to.” From the door, he can see the whole of your apartment. The pink and white bedspread, your plants, the photos of family members and friends on your wall, the fairy lights, and that tiny couch in front of the TV that has come to feel like home, like love.
“Don’t have to, doll-,” he starts.
You shut your door and lock it again before looping your arm through his. “Of course I do. It’s Valentine’s Day.”
~
You sit on the floor in front of his coffee table, legs crossed, fingers sticky with powdered sugar and icing that you wipe on a napkin delicately.
You’ve been chattering at him for the last few minutes.
Something about work.
But Bucky can’t really focus on that at the moment.
He hasn’t touched his share of the goods and you’ve definitely noticed.
The room is thick with a tension that’s entirely his fault. He can see you trying to parse through it, why things feel so odd and strained.
You reach out and touch the back of his hand. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he says, shaking himself, trying to snap out of it. Bucky doesn’t want to frighten you, he knows how he looks, blank and foreign and far away, when he’s too deep inside himself.
Now or never, something screams at him.
“Actually, I have something for you.”
“Oh,” you smile. “Like a present?”
“Kinda, sweetheart,” he stands, and your hand falls away from his. His skin feels cold in the absence.
Bucky stands and moves to the kitchen where he earlier stashed your final gift.
If things go to shit in the next few minutes, hopefully you’ll read the card he dropped in your mail slot that’s currently waiting for you back on your kitchen counter.
Your eyes are fastened to him, flicking to the pink wrapped box in his hands.
He sits down across from you on the floor and presses the box into your hands across the coffee table.
You stare at it for a long moment, the look on your face unreadable to him.
“Bucky,” you say gently, decidedly not unwrapping it. “I-I don’t wanna sound – I don’t wanna ruin what we have between us but –,”
Oh. Fuck.
“But like, we’ve been friends for a while now and I – I dunno I was telling myself I should tell you –,”
Probably that you had a partner. That he’s gotten too comfortable with you and needed to back off.
“Well, that I’ve kinda been falling for you these last couple of months and –,”
Wait –
“And I don’t want to sound, like, presumptuous, but…are you the one who's been leaving all the presents?”
His brain goes staticky, white with blankness. How could you have known?
“I –,”
“Because I think maybe you would have – I mean is it you? I’m really hoping it’s been you.”
When he doesn’t say anything, you start to fidget, crinkling the corner of the pink paper in your hands, the edge of your thumb running under the tape nervously.
“It’s not, is it? I just made everything really weird between us. I thought it was you because you kinda seem like you would have hunted down someone randomly sending me stuff.” You don’t look at him as you say it. “Oh god, does that mean I do have a stalker?”
Bucky swallows and finds his voice, lodged tightly in the back of his throat. “You thought I would –,”
“Yeah, I mean,” Y/N tears the tape a little and sets the gift aside carefully. “You’re kind of protective. You seem to worry about me a lot and I thought it was odd this random stranger giving me things didn’t bother you but –,”
“Honey it's me,” Bucky says softly. “It is. It's me.”
You don’t seem to hear him, your eyes still locked on the tartes and eclairs in front of you. “Because you know how much I like getting mail and you know all my favorite things.” You shrug. “Sorry I’m making things weird –,”
Bucky says your name, forcefully enough that your head snaps up. “It’s me.”
“What?” Your brow creases.
“I – fuck, I like you. A lot. And I didn’t want you to go on that fucking date with your coworker and you’ve never had a valentine and – I dunno, I just really like you. I thought maybe –,”
“I did,” you say, meeting his eyes. “I said it didn’t I? I fell for you. You think I let other people in my apartment so much? Wait around by my fucking mailbox waiting for you to show up?”
A laugh startles out of him, “I thought I was just really good at timing it.”
You roll your eyes and stand.
He follows your movement, tilting his head back to keep you in his view. You crouch down next to him, and he reaches for you at the same time that you reach for him.
Then, you’re in his lap, knees digging into his hips as he kisses you.
You taste like candy.
Like Valentine's day chocolate and all your favorite baked goods.
Your fingers curl into his hair, curve behind his ears when you cup his face between your palms.
Bucky anchors his hands to your hips, afraid to do anything but kiss you. Just in case it's a dream, just in case you change your mind.
He’s dreamed of kissing you before, he’s dreamed of holding you, touching the curve of your waist.
It doesn’t compare to having you in his lap, your lips soft against his.
This pink scarf brushes against his wrist when he finally lifts his hand to cradle your cheek.
You pull back and press your forehead to his.
“Thank you for all my gifts, Bucky.”
He smiles, “Don’t read that pink letter, honey.”
“Why?”
“It’s…honestly I thought – doesn't matter. Just don’t read it. I’ll write you a thousand more letters.”
“Promise they’ll all be really sappy.”
He chuckles and hooks an arm around your waist, tugging you close before twisting to press you back into the rug. Bucky hovers over you, lets you twist your fingers into the chain of his dog tags and tug him down. “I promise,” he murmurs, kissing your temple, the curve of your cheek, your top lip.
“And that you’ll hand deliver them to my mailbox.”
“Promise,” he kisses your lips.
You arch up, kissing him back hard, digging your foot into the back of his knee so he collapses against you fully.
“Will you be my valentine?” It’s a breathless question.
“Thought I already was?”
1K notes · View notes
classylo · 4 months ago
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beg for it | bucky barnes
pairings: boyfriend!bucky x female reader
summary: working from home had it's pros, but one con was your needy boyfriend not getting enough attention... ;)
warnings: 18+ ONLY; smut (fingering), neeeeedy bucky, cuss words, fluff
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eighteen plus only — by choosing to ‘keep reading’, you are agreeing that you are eighteen years old and over. do not interact with this story if you are a minor.
Working from home the past few months had its benefits. You were able to stay in your comfy clothes, take long breaks, and of course, spend plenty of time with your boyfriend. The one downside of working from home is that your lovely man can get bored and lonely... very easily.
He doesn’t have much to distract himself with while you’re working since he has taken some time off from the whole avenging thing. But this week has been extra difficult since you’ve been extremely busy. His patience has begun to run thin and your needy boy is just dying for some attention from you.
You promised him that you’d finish with stuff early today so you two could have the evening to yourselves. He was beyond excited at the thought of having you all to himself, so he went on his daily run with Sam early and to pass the time figuring you’d be done by the time he got back.
He walked back in from his run to find you still on the couch working.
“Doll, I thought you were finishing up early?” He sighs walking over to you.
“I know, baby. I’m almost done, then I’m all yours.” You look up with him smiling.
If you didn’t have to get this brief in by a deadline you would’ve slammed your laptop shut right then and there at the sheer sight of him. Sweaty, shirtless, and oh so hot.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Alright, I’m gonna shower and by the time I’m back down here you better be done,” he says, leaning down and kissing the top of your head.
“Sir yes sir!” You laugh.
He rolls his eyes at you and makes his way towards the shower. You were just about to email your boss the final draft when she called you... and asked you to do one more thing before the weekend.
You agreed, of course, as you were trying to gain a promotion and knew the last thing shouldn’t take too long.
Before you could think of how you were gonna explain this to Bucky he walked in the room, shirtless once again but this time his signature gray sweatpants hanging dangerously low.
“Baby doll...” He says, raising his eyebrows at you realizing you’re still on your laptop.
“Just one more thing B and then I’m done, I promise.” You say with your best puppy eyes.
He audibly groans and walks out of the living room and begins stomping towards the kitchen.
“I’m sorry!” You yell out but no response.
You quickly begin working so you can finish and start your long weekend with Bucky.
15 minutes pass. Then 20. Then 30. Finally, Bucky comes back into the living room and leans against the doorframe, you can feel his eyes on you but you’re in the zone so you don’t speak. He stares at you some more until he realizes you’re ignoring him, which is the last straw for him.
He stalks over towards you and closes your laptop, gaining a gasp and angry look from you.
“Buck. Stop.” You state, opening your laptop.
“Baby, you promised me we would have the evening. This is getting ridiculous, put the laptop away.” You can sense the annoyance in his voice and you give him a sympathetic pout.
“I know baby, I know. I’m so sorry just 10 more minutes okay?” You offer.
“Fine.” He rolls his eyes and plops down beside you on the couch.
You chuckle and open your laptop back up. You begin typing again until your feel a sharp poke to your side.
“Ow! What the hell?” You lower your eyes at him.
He doesn’t say anything, just laughs. You now roll your eyes at him and return to typing...until you met with another poke to the side.
“Bucky!” You squeal, this time his poke tickles you.
“I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention,” he says nonchalantly as he shrugs his shoulders.
“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous!” You groan as you push him away from you and turn back to typing only to be met, once again, with a poke.
This sends you over the edge. You slam your laptop shut and throw it on the table, and in one swift motion, you straddle Bucky’s lap. You watch as his Adam Apple bobbles up and down.
“Happy now?” You ask, cocking your head at him.
“Not quite.” He smirks.
“Oh?” You question and then grind down against him. Earning a low growl as your core meets his already hard bulge.
“Nah. Try again.” He raises his brows.
You grind against him once more and are quickly pulled from his lap as your back meets the sofa and he hovers over you. He slots a leg between yours and he chuckles as he feels the heat from your core.
“And I thought I was the needy one.” He smirks.
“Shut up.” You groan.
“Or what? I would start watching what you say, doll, you’re wracking up those punishments.” He whispers against your lips.
His hot breath hits your face and you realize how needy you are for him. You lean up to capture his lips but he pulls back, chuckling when you whine.
“Buck, kiss me.” You say.
“Why should I?” He asks.
“Because you’re just as needy as me, baby boy.” You smirk, feeling his hard cock against you as you try to grind up towards him.
“Beg for it.” He smirks.
You clench your jaw as you two stare at each other intensely. You know you’re going to have to give in and it’s only right since you have practically ignored him all week.
“Please.” You whisper.
“Please what, pretty girl? Use your words.”
“Please. Fuck. Me.” You say, emphasizing each word.
He smirks before crashing his lips against yours. He dominates the kiss as his tongue invades your mouth. You moan into the kiss as your hands make their way to his brown curls, trying to pull him further down into you. As he breaks the kiss you watch as his hand slides beneath the waistband of your leggings.
“Would you look at that,” he murmurs as his hand slides between your thighs, pressing itself against your soaked panties, “you're soaked baby girl,” he chuckles as he pushes his index finger into your heat.
A low whine falls from your lips, clutching his head in your hands. One, then two of his fingers dipped into your dripping heat, filling your pussy. Your back arched from the couch as Bucky moved to bury his face into your neck. His fingers moved slowly inside you, eliciting low moans.
“Oh fuck,��James, fucking fuck!” You chant as he brings you closer and closer towards the edge.
“You like that baby? Missed my fingers inside your sweet pussy?” He teases as he nips at your neck.
You gasp at the sudden feeling of his teeth against your neck and his fingers deep inside you.
“You close baby? Gonna cum for me?” He asks, pulling back and locking his eyes with yours.
“Please, please Buck, please.” You begin to beg, knowing that’s the only way you’re going to reach your high.
Buckys thumb moves through your wet folds, looking for the pleasurable bundle of nerves that will have you crumbling under his fingertips. He's rubbing his hands over you in tight, rapid circles, sending waves of pleasure over you. Your coil is just about to snap when he pulls his fingers from you and sits back.
He watches as your face contorts from pleasure to confusion to anger.
“James!” You yell out as you sit up.
Your chest is still heaving as he grabs your chin in his hand, pulling your face close to his.
“You have work to finish, remember? I’ll be upstairs when you’re done.” He whispers against your lips before standing up and walking out of the living room leaving you unbelievably hot and bothered.
Needless to say, you finished your work within 5 minutes, unsure if you even submitted the right draft to your boss. You also learned your lesson...never make your needy boyfriend wait.
a/n: happy weekend! <3
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chrisdrysdale · a month ago
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Jealous dilf Bucky 🥴🥴
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Ok see when I hear dilf!bucky my mind instantly goes to dbf!bucky, like he just hanging with your dad and you get all dolled up to go on a date and he does not like that.
“Bye guys see you later!” You shouted as you walked out the door.
“Honey wait, Bucky can drop you up if you like, maybe then you can have a drink. You took a deep breath in before responding “yeah ok, that would be great, thank you Mr. Barnes” l
Bucky leads you out to his car and begins driving but he stops just in a corner near your house. “Mr. Barnes is everything okay?”
He leans his hand over and grabs onto your cheeks aggressively, he drops his other hand to your thighs and spreads your legs out, your skirt riding up to your hips, revealing you lace covered crotch. “what my name baby?”
“Mr Barnes” you whimper out before crying out loud when he lays a light slap down on your pussy
“Once again, what’s my name”
“Bucky?” you question, he shakes his head before slapping you again, you covering your moan with a cough.
He squeezes your cheeks a bit harder and grits his teeth “what’s slap my slap name slap“
“Daddy!” You cry out as you feel you arousal leak through your panties. “Good girl” he whispers as he begins rubbing tight circles on your clit through you panties.
“Are you gonna be a good girl and fuck me instead of going on that dumb date”
“Yes daddy” you moan as your hips buck up. Bucky pushes the back of his chair back and grasps onto your hips, pulling you over his crotch. “Go on take Daddy’s cock out” you quickly scramble and unbuckle his pants, pulling his cock out as he messaged your boob. “Do you wanna ride daddy’s cock”
“Yes please” you practically growled at him. He grasped onto your hips and gently pushed your panties aside and lined you up before letting you sink down in your own time. As you went down you fell flat onto Bucky’s chest, before he sat you back up and pushed you down a little. Once you bottomed out you dragged yourself back up and stared bounce.
“Such a tight pussy” Bucky moaned as his hand fell to your clit and started rubbing in tight circles. “Daddy! You feel so big!”
“Much better then that dumb little date of your huh?”
“So much better, no one else but you”
And that’s all Bucky needed to hear
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barneslostproperty · 3 months ago
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You And Me
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Since you’ve been dating Bucky, you’ve become a target for the internet bullies but Bucky is there for you.
Word count: 1,149
Warnings: Angst, bullies, soft!beefy Bucky, soft Bucky, fluffy ending
Author’s Notes: I want to thank @jobean12-blog for your amazing help, advice on this piece and for also beta reading it for me ❤️ it means so much ❤️ I’m dedicating this little piece to everyone and anyone out there who has been or is currently dealing with internet bullies, hate anons etc. I’ve recently been a target and was told I should stop writing for Bucky because of my illness would be embarrassing for him. I’m here to remind you that Bucky is fictional so it doesn’t matter what your circumstances are, who you are, what you look like, if you’re tall/short, what illness or disabilities you have, if you wear glasses or braces - this man loves you for you.
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“Hey doll face, you okay?” Bucky asks sweetly as he throws an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his warm body.
You nod and give him one of your best smiles because you don’t like to worry him. In reality, you’re not okay and haven’t been since you went public with your relationship and unfortunately attracted a lot of people who enjoyed making your life a misery. You didn’t want to burden Bucky with these problems, you feared he would tell you it was ridiculous to get so upset and hurt over a stranger’s opinion of you.
Distancing yourself from your phone was easier said than done because you still had family and real friends who you liked to keep in touch with and see what they were up to. The trolls still made their way through to your comments, despite you switching your accounts to private you still managed to accumulate a lot of followers. To say it was a massive headache would be an understatement.
Bucky kisses your forehead and you snuggle in closer as the movie plays on the tv in the background. Your eyes are fixated on his toes wiggling as his warmth cradles you.
Being here right now, reminds you of how safe you really are from everybody who wishes nothing but misery for you.
“I love you.” You mumble into his chest. Your palm lays over his heart.
“I love you more doll face.”
It’s a brand new day and you’re determined not to let anyone or anything bring you down. The sun is shining over the city and there’s a slight bounce in your step as you walk down the sidewalk towards your favourite coffee shop.
The coffee shop isn’t busy, there’s a few businessmen and women occupying some of the tables with their morning coffee and croissants. You move to the counter, already knowing what you’re going to order and the barista smiles as she prepares your drink. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up suddenly as you stand patiently. The feeling of dread washes over you, as though someone is watching you. It’s a feeling you can’t shake, you know you’re a target for the jealous haters. But as you look over your shoulder, there’s nobody there but there’s a persistent vibration on your phone alerting you of a notification that you ignore. You become more anxious, tapping your foot against the tiles and hoping the barista won’t take too long with your drink.
You hate to admit it but the walk back to your apartment was terrifying. Constantly looking over your shoulder, afraid of bumping into someone or being ambushed by a group of fangirls who once threatened to do so. All these problems and you still couldn’t face telling Bucky what was going on, even if he does offer the best advice.
You put your coffee cup on the desk and shrug off your jacket. You open your laptop and check your emails, then your social media accounts. Immediately as you do your heart drops into your stomach. More DM requests from people with threats, hate, and just vile messages.
You start to shake and sigh, closing the lid on your laptop and pushing it away from you. Your head falls into your hands as you try to not let them win.
You honestly have no idea what to do about these internet trolls because it doesn’t seem to matter what you do or say, there’s always someone who hates what you do and feels the need to express their much unwanted opinions.
You could be the nicest person in the world and they’ll find something either with your hair colour, hairstyle, the outfit you’re wearing, if you have a headache it’s your own fault. You were wedged between a rock and a hard place and have been for weeks, simply for falling in love with the most loveliest man on this earth. But the hate is not getting better and the insults are becoming more hurtful with each passing day.
A tear escapes just as the front door to your apartment swings open and Bucky calls out for you. Your attempts to wipe the tears away were in vain because Bucky caught you just as you swiped the sleeve of your sweater across your face. His face dropped and so did yours.
“Baby girl? What’s going on?” He’s so concerned. He knows something is up but never wanted to push the subject too far. He steps closer, his warmth immediately pulls you to him, it’s your safe space. He rubs his hands up and down your back to soothe you before leading you over to the couch. His thumb catches another tear as you exhale a shaky breath.
“It’s uhm- it’s so stupid Buck.” You’re defeated and Bucky can tell.
“It’s not stupid if it’s making my best girl upset. Please baby, please tell me so I can help you.”
His words are enough to encourage you to spill the problems from your lips. You tell him everything that’s been going on and for how long. The kind of messages and threats you’re receiving. The whole time he’s comforting you, holding you and just listening with no judgement or sarcastic comments. You feared he wouldn’t take it seriously and he’s doing the opposite.
There’s a long pause before he speaks again. He’s enraged that people could be so cruel to someone they haven’t even met. Especially to someone as kind, lovely and special as you. You’re his everything and he’s going to protect you no matter what.
Bucky pulls you into his chest and kisses the top of your hair.
“I wanna kill ‘em!.” He growls, “but they don’t deserve the attention from us doll.” He pulls away so he can look you in the eyes, his hands cradle your face as his thumbs catch more falling tears.
“Listen to me doll, I’m an avenger and nobody is coming for you.” He smiles with reassurance. “I love you so much and we’ll get through this together.” Your arms tighten around his midsection and kiss his chin. “If it’s one bit of advice I can offer you it would be to delete everything so you don’t have to deal with that. It’s you and me against the world and we're a team.”
“You and me against the world.” You repeat, feeling as though the weight of the world was officially lifted off your shoulders.
Bucky holds out his pinky finger and you chuckle, your pinkies join and he winks.
“Pinky promise. Now, let me run you a nice hot bath and we’ll order food and watch any movie you wanna watch!”
“Sounds perfect.” You smile, genuinely smile for the first time since the ordeal. “Even Jaws?” You pout, hoping it’ll be enough to persuade him.
“Even- even-.” He sighs and chuckles, “Even Jaws.”
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nexusnyx · 9 months ago
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Coming In Hot
— Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader — Summary: When your best friend Sarah recommends you a mechanic of her brother’s trust, all you can think about and pray to is that he doesn’t rip you off. Your car is your prized possession and amidst all the worry and concern of your medical studies, drowning in even more debt sounds as suffocating as it would be. Of course, you never thought of the possibility of the mechanic being the problem. A hot, polite, gentle and silent-type of problem. Drowning in debt would be easier to navigate than the blue of Bucky Barnes’s eyes. — Word count: 8.5k — A/n: A huge thanks to Raven, my beta, for proofreading and eliminating all mistakes in this chapter. If you enjoy it, feedback is appreciated & highly encouraged and motivates me to write even more. mistakes/errors might be here, let me know if you find any.
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◦➳ Main Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist | ko-fi ❥
//
Series Masterlist — Previous Chapter
Waking up somewhere new is slightly disorienting, especially after a night of heavy drinking and smoking.
When you slowly come to your senses, it's due to the morning sun streaming in through the, frankly, gigantic window to your right.
Stretching your body in every direction like a cat is part of your morning routine, but your high-pitched whine and relaxing stretch comes to a halt when the reality of where you are hits you.
"Damn, Y/n, where the fuck did you learn to kiss like this, baby? I'm—outch, don't bite me—"
Memories flood back like a dam breaking and you freeze on the spot.
The previous night washes over you and you go from slowly waking up to painfully awake in a split second.
Bucky.
God, Bucky.
The images of you and him fumbling, making out like teenagers and barely making past through his threshold before you were jumping his bones flood back to you and make you turn around in embarrassment so you can muffle your tiny scream into the pillow.
Now that you're awake and the bits are coming back to you, you can't help but be thankful that Bucky is, well... him.
Even though nothing is forgotten or missing from your brain, you can tell now with your mind free from all the alcohol and the weed that you were definitely too intoxicated to do anything else other than what you two did the previous night.
And god, you two did only a couple of things, technically, but your body contorts and twists on his bed from the memory nonetheless.
Bucky pinned you to every single wall between his front door and the one in his bedroom.
You climbed him at the first given chance, straddling your legs around his waist and when he finally managed to get you two on his bed, you groan again with your face muffled against his pillow at the memory of him holding you on his lap and kissing you filthily for what felt like hours.
"This is what you wanted right baby? Make out on my lap?"
"Smugness is very unattractive on you, you know—"
His laughter breathed against your neck tingles something inside of you.
"I'll keep that in mind. I wouldn't have figured from all the wiggling you're doing and these—" a kiss to your neck, and a lick to your chin. "Hmm these delicious little sounds."
"God, you talk too much," you laugh, breathless.
"I think you quite like it."
"I like you better with your mouth on me." You roll your hips tortuously slow against his again, just for the sharp intake of breath from him.
"Fuck, stop with these damn dancer hips, woman—"
"I'm a shit dancer."
"You might be, but you definitely know how to work these hips." Bucky kissed your neck again, both of his hands freely roaming your body.
"You love it," you tease, smiling wider.
"I sure do, doll."
"Then kiss me, Bucky."
He did. And then proceeded to suck every square inch of air out of you again, much to your delight.
This morning, you can tell just how much that man can be trusted.
Bucky was hard enough to cut glass underneath you, but no matter how much you wiggled and kissed him, his neck, or roamed your hands underneath his shirt, he never made any move to go any further.
The times when you whined at him and gave in to the desire, begging him for more with your lips brushing against his ear a little bit, Bucky had simply laughed at you—not mockingly or in any mean way, but with the delight of someone who's seeing something they enjoy very much and can't quite get enough of it. Bucky laughed and shushed your worries, whispering sweet promises in your ear and your skin, and for the time, they'd been enough.
Then, when your filthy and wet kisses had dwindled and you two grew tired of making out like horny teens in your childhood bedroom, he'd told you he was gonna take a shower so he could, "you know, actually get some sleep. can't do that if my balls are bluer than ice, i'm afraid", shushed another one of your teasing offerings ("i wanted to help with that but you someone won't let me") and then did just that.
He had also offered you some of his clothes so you could shower as well, and now, here you were.
Alone — because somehow, you knew Bucky wasn't anywhere in his house — still as horny as yesterday, but definitely ten times soberer.
Before any little goblin of insecurity can decide to wake up in your head, you decide to find out if he left any clue as to why you're alone in his house.
Looking down at his navy-green t-shirt that falls all the way down to your knees and the socks that are about two sizes too big on you, you decide that's enough clothing for now and stretch properly before getting up.
The clue you're looking for is easily found in the kitchen—a sticky note pinned to the fridge.
In the (dubious) case you wake up before I come back, I'm on a run.
I meant what I said last night: Feel at home.
I'll be home soon, pretty.
You try biting down the smile that creeps on your face at the 'pretty', but it's impossible.
Bucky had allowed you to drive Bullet to his house — he'd argued he needed to be the one driving, but you were convincing enough of your abilities and told him he could 'monitor' your skills and decide if pulling up was needed — so you had the opportunity to go to your car and fetch the backpack of things you always leave on your truck.
Thank fuck Bucky hadn't locked the door.
After a much needed second shower, changing into comfortable gym shorts, a band t-shirt and properly fitting socks, you catch a glimpse of a clock and notice why you're alone.
It's six twenty in the fucking morning.
"Ugh."
He's a morning person—much like you, unfortunately, but unlike you, he's the willing type.
Sighing, you start walking around his house and explore it in his absence.
'Feel at home' to you translates into exactly that—feeling at home.
You don't suppose Bucky's the type to say that to anyone without meaning it, just like you aren't. If you tell a friend they can feel at home, you mean that very much.
Since the bedroom is something you're already familiar with — and god, you hope you've magically grown accustomed with these memories before he returns because the idea of blushing every time you remember them is ludicrous — you decide to explore the rest, and if he isn't back by then, get started on breakfast without him.
Bucky's house is a lot like Steve's, you notice.
That shouldn't be much of a surprise considering how they live only ten minutes apart (deciding which house to go had been easy exactly because of that, something you were thankful for since you hated people in your apartment, actually) and just like Steve's, it had great lighting.
You wondered if it was a soldier thing.
Not liking the dark, that is.
Another common trait with Steve's house is the presence of portraits all over the house, but Bucky seems to lack Steve's desire for organization and tidiness.
There's a big and beautiful living room as soon as you cross the front door, the kitchen is adjacent and joined to it by a black marble countertop, there are three bedrooms and one main bathroom in the corridor, Bucky's suite being the last room in it at the end of the corridor.
The decor is beautiful and it screams him.
There are books everywhere, a detail you notice without much surprise, but that still delights you immensely.
There's a bookshelf both in his room and in the living room, and you find that Bucky's interests are quite diverse.
Apart from mechanics, cars and engineering in general, he seems to be quite the nerd.
A space nerd, a comics books nerd and a technology enthusiast.
A green energy technology enthusiast.
You might be wet again just looking at these book titles.
Ridiculously attractive man.
As if his physique and his wit weren't enough. No, of course his mind had to be as sexy as the rest of him.
"If you don't stop biting me—ah, fuck, why 're you so good at this—I might think you want a piece of me," he said, giggling, breathless.
"I might."
"Fuck. You can have it, just—ah, just don't spit it out later."
The memory makes you giggle again, exactly like it had the previous night.
Bucky was funny, even when in bed, which was a crazy prospect to think about.
Before him, none of your previous partners had brought as much laughter out of you when doing anything like that.
Matter-of-factly, if you remember it right, sex and attraction had never been so light.
If the myths are true and one spends their year doing what they did when the clock strikes midnight, 2022 might just be the most fun and... satisfaction, you've had in a long, long time.
When you're done exploring, fingers grazing almost every surface, you decide it's a good time as any to start breakfast, and if he's lucky, Bucky will return before you've eaten everything.
After tying your hair up and finding a JBL in Bucky's living room, cooking gets started.
That's exactly where he finds you.
Since the music is loud enough that his neighbors might wake up thinking who the fuck listens to Queen on the first day of the year, at seven in the fucking morning, loud enough to make it sound like a concert, you don't hear him coming in.
In fact, you're happily singing along to Freddy's song, dancing with your hips as you finish scrambling the eggs.
As the final notes of Another One Bites the Dust trails off, he makes his announcement.
"Alright, indeed."
His voice startles you entirely. You squeal like a wounded animal and drop the spatula on the floor, and the noise startles you even further, pushing you closer to the oven and ending with your hand touching the outside of the pan.
The very hot, very dangerous side of the pan.
"Ah! Fuck, fuck!" You scream, and all you see is Bucky's eyes widened with fear before you're curling your upper body around your wounded hand.
"Fuck, Y/n I'm so sorry, I'm an idiot—" his voice is closer, and you feel the heat of his body before you see it. "C'mere, let me see. I'm so sorry, doll."
When you look up, Bucky's mere inches away from you.
His whole body is glistening with the sweat that's starting to dry off and he smells horrible — that's a first —, but his eyes swim with so much concern that it fills you up.
"'s alright," you mumble, handing out your hand.
The back of your hand is a little red, but thankfully, that seems to be all.
Bucky catches your hand between his and inspects the burn up close, brows furrowed with worry.
"I'm gonna get a pomade. Hold on."
Without waiting for a reply, he leaves the in direction of the bathroom and leaves you there, catching your breath for more than one reason.
Why would I want to act like nothing happened, doll?
It's truth time.
Your chest feels heavy; it's as if his presence came with unwanted rocks being placed inside of you.
Bucky comes back with the same concerned look sewed on his face and he catches your hand between his with care, then applies the pomade with a lot more gentleness than you'd expect from someone so big, with such big hands.
"Thanks," you mumble, looking at your hand with a pout. It stings, but the pomade appears to be dulling the throbbing already.
"I'm really sorry." When you look up at his eyes, he looks every bit as sorry as he says. "I'm an idiot—I should know better than to show up like a cat and startle someone who's cooking."
"Oh shit!" His words remind you of your eggs and you push him away unceremoniously, checking on the pan and your eggs. Thankfully, they're only a little bit burned, and you sigh in relief.
As soon as you turn the oven off, you turn around and offer the sullen soldier a tentative smile.
"Let's try this again." You widen your smile purposely. "Hi! Good morning."
Bucky's frown deepens for a second, then his whole face relaxes and he starts laughing at himself, somehow surprised at your carelessness.
"Good morning," he answers, sweetly.
"I woke up quite a while ago, so I gotta ask—who the fuck runs on the first day of the year?" You ask, putting as much theatrics as you can on the question considering the time.
This time, Bucky truly laughs, and you see his shoulders relaxing even further.
"I do." He shrugs his shoulders. "I like it. It's the only activity I still do, actually."
That brings genuine surprise to your face. With his physique, you would've never imagined. "Wait—really?"
He picks up on your surprise and shrugs, smugly. "Yup."
"Why was I under the impression you went to the gym... or fought... or—something?"
Bucky walks to the fridge and opens it. "'Cause that's what most people think." He grabs a water bottle from there and opens it. "Steve goes, but I hate it. Working out feels like boring work, so no, thanks." He takes long gulps of the water and this time, you don't even try to pretend you're not watching his neck and the way his lips redden with the cold water. When he puts the bottle down, you look up at his eyes and find him watching you with amusement. "It's why I have great stamina," he adds with a wink.
Oh.
"Is that so?"
"Hmhm." Bucky puts the bottle back in the fridge. "But you don't know that." He closes the fridge, but leans against it with easy confidence. "Yet."
Okay. So he meant it.
Bucky isn't pretending last night didn't happen.
Mustering the willpower to ignore the heat on your cheeks and maintain eye contact with him, you hum thoughtfully. "Cardio is a really good way to build up stamina," you answer with mock innocence. Bucky's still watching you with that side smile, and that's what gives you the confidence to go on. "Not as good as yoga for the strength or the... flexibility, though."
His eyes widen in surprise. "You do yoga?"
You nod, putting on a fake smile of purity. "Yup. Dad and I started a few years ago with mom. Mom gave up on it, we continued. Now she's jealous of our flexibility and great posture."
Bucky laughs brightly at that, but there's a heartbeat of silence before he answers you. "You know—you confused me for a while with him."
Confused, you go back to your eggs and start plating them. "What d'you mean?"
"You call your stepdad 'dad' sometimes. Actually, you call him 'dad' most of the time, just not when you're in his presence. I noticed that during Christmas in those snaps and stories you sent me—you call him by his name to him and dad to others." Bucky hums thoughtfully behind you, then continues after a chuckle. "Confused the fuck outta me for a while there, I won't lie."
Fuck, he's observant.
Sometimes, you forget how much.
You take your time plating the eggs to your liking and then cleaning up the stove and the mess you made, and Bucky waits behind you patiently.
"Well. You know he's not my dad dad," you say. "That one fucked off long ago." You're numb to the fact by now, but you still don't make eye contact while telling him this 'cause it isn't something you talk about with others, usually. "And when mom remarried, I only called him by his name, but... over the years, he kinda became my dad, you know? Much more than the one who actually put me in this world but never really seemed to care about me. I call him by his name to him 'cause that's what I'm used to, but to others, it's just easier to call him dad, I guess."
"Are Flora and Rosa his?" Bucky asks, curiously.
"Yup." Your step-sisters are his spitting image, actually. "They thought it was weird I called him by his name for a while, too, so I had to explain a couple of years ago that we got the same dad but, really, we got different ones."
Bucky's eyes widen in surprise. "You talked to them about it?"
You tilt your head, eyeing Bucky curiously. "'Course I did, Buck." You smile. "They're my sisters, was I supposed to lie to them?"
"No, but—" he frowns, looking around him a little. "Aren't they a bit young?"
"To understand the intricacies of why some relationships don't work and we got different dads? Sure. To be explained that I had a dad who isn't the same one as theirs, but that left? Not really." Kindly, you add. "Kids are pretty resilient, Buck. And far smarter than people give them credit for. All it takes is a bit of explaining."
For long seconds, all Bucky does is look at you.
It makes you a bit on edge until you remember a similar conversation at the boathouse, and you know this isn't just about Flora and Rosa.
"How did they take it?" He asks, finally.
"They were sad for me." The conversation is starting to make you uneasy, feeling more exposed than if you still were wearing Bucky's shirt and nothing else. You turn around to open the fridge and get some juice. "And they said they'll always share their dad with me, 'cause their dad loves me as much as he loves them." You shrug your shoulders. "It was nice, actually. A bit sad, obviously, but nice. They hate my actual father, but that's more my mom's doing than anything else, I suppose." With a look over your shoulder, you give him a tight-lipped smile. "My little flowers are the only ones I need to never abandon me in life, if I'm being honest." Then, before he can say anything else, you point at the two plates you did. "Now. If you wanna eat that, I'm gonna have to politely ask you to shower."
Bucky blinks a couple of times, not having time to absorb your words before you change the subject.
When he registers your final words, he gives you a smirk.
"What? You don't want me sweating on you?"
Oh, hell—that Bucky you're familiar with now. The slick and sultry way he says it, lowering his voice and stepping closer.
Fortunately, you're too hungry to fall for his cheap tricks.
"Not during breakfast, I don't." The grin you give back to him is made of the same lingering desire you see in his eyes. "You stink. My food doesn't deserve that. Go shower, Sergeant."
With a military salute and a not-so-subtle glance all over your body, Bucky leaves for a shower, leaving you alone to your still-tight chest.
Knowing he meant his words the previous night eases the worry you had about this... arrangement. Whatever it is.
You set up the table for breakfast and you cook him bacon, knowing he likes it from the several texts about Morita's heavenly bacon stripes you've gotten since you met him.
Although the uneasiness about this... situation, was gone, the exchange before Bucky left brings your attention to how much of yourself you offer to him without a thought.
Granted, Bucky never seems to keep things from you, but all that you know from his personal life were special instances in a conversation where he offered things you didn't even ask.
You don't even know how much you're allowed to ask him.
How much he'd be comfortable being asked.
God, you need to learn how to stop spilling your guts and your past to this man, as soon as possible.
He probably doesn't want to hear your woes and moans about the daddy issues you've already discussed plenty in therapy.
Bucky's a friend, sure, but he doesn't need the deep and, honestly, sometimes painful talks about the truths in life.
He isn't Sarah.
And he isn't Nat, a voice in your head offers.
A shudder runs through your body.
No one is Nat, and you wouldn't want them to be, either.
Thank god Bucky isn't Nat.
By the time he's back, the table is full, the kitchen smells amazing and you're sitting with your legs up, mind lost in thoughts.
"Better now?" He even gives a little spin, smiling widely.
The sight of his smile makes it easy for you to put all the stupid mean goblins now awake in your mind in a drawer and lock it shut.
You smile back. "Much." You turn to your food, happily digging in. "Eat before it gets cold."
Bucky takes a look at the table and smiles softly. "Thanks for breakfast, pretty." He looks up at you. "I usually just make smoothies and while they're good, they're definitely not this," he adds with a chuckle. Then, his eyes catch on the bacon stripes with a hunger that never lies. "Did you cook me bacon?"
Confused and with your mouth already full, you nod at him like duh, obviously.
"You don't eat meat," he says, sounding like a question.
When you swallow, you can laugh freely at him. "No, I don't." You wink at him. "But you do. Now shut up and eat."
Bucky's grateful smile to you is enough to make up for the fact that you had to touch meat to cook it.
You're not daft in the slightest—Bucky's aware of your distaste for the meat industry and everything that involves it, surrounds it, incentives it.
When he discovered you were vegetarian, it was the first time he FaceTimed you.
"Why?" Was how he greeted you, face dirty with grease as it was the custom for when he was at work.
Outside of a lecture in university, you had looked at him with disbelief. Snorting, you had asked. "I can see you're curious, but I don't think you wanna hear my rant of why I gave up meat, Sergeant."
"Indulge me." He had shrugged his shoulders. "You're one of the smartest people I know, I'd like your insight."
So you'd told him.
Bucky had hung up saying ("fuck, now I have a lot to think about") and ruefully, a week later, had told you he one day would like the inner strength to give it up, too.
You two eat in comfortable silence with Freddy playing in the background, and when you're finishing your mashed bananas, he speaks up again.
"Did you hear the news?" He asks, eating the papaya you had placed in front of his plates.
Noticing you hadn't checked your phone yet, you frown. "What news?"
Bucky smiles with the spoon inside his mouth. "Midnight magic is real, I'm afraid."
"I don't follow..."
"You and I weren't the only ones startin' the year in a... good way," he says, arching only one eyebrow.
You search your brain looking for whatever on earth he means and when the pin drops, so does your jaw. "No fucking way!"
Bucky bursts out laughing. "Yes, way."
"Noooooo fucking way!"
Bucky only laughs harder at your surprise. "Yup. The couple of the year has sailed." He laughs so earnestly that his nose scrunches—your favorite laugh of his. "There are bets on the AutoBoys group chat already about how long 'till there's a wedding. Wanna hop on the poll?"
"Fuck yes, I do." You realize in that moment someone else who must've messaged you 'till your phone blew up, which makes you get up like something shocked you. "Hold on!" You run off towards the bedroom, hearing only Bucky's laughter behind.
Just like you expected, when you find your phone and unlock it, there it is.
S <3
19 Notifications
Oh, this should be good.
You walk back to the kitchen reading her messages.
alright my lvoe ahsv funnnnnnn pls message mem when u wake up tho omg y/n Y/N I CANTBELIEVE YOU 'RE NOT HERE TOS EE THIS ITS BETTER THAN THE MOVIES THEY'RE MAKGIN OUT AN D EVERYONES ESCREAMING THIS IS FO FUNNY ALKJHSLKJKA oh ew okaya that got grosss really yyyy fast thats my brother no thank u okay. theyer officialy not idiots in love anymore only in love <333 heres ot a great year off r us babeb i love u so MUCH so much ure elike the best girl u deservee hte world <33 dont be late tomrrow for the wilson pizza night u have to come now caus tis as much tradition as stevge's nye party kay i ly Wow. Not even autocorrect saved me last night, huh? Morning, babe I hope you had GREAT NIGHT Hope you used protection. U don't want kids, never forget Tell me everything when u wake up I'm waiting bitch and I'm curious Curiosity isnt good for my soul OR my skin Im gonna go get the kids I'll see you later If he doesnt give u an orgasm Im suing him. :)LOVE YOU ! HAPPY 1ST DAY ! HERE'S TO A GREAT FUCKING YEAR !
You manage to reply before entering the kitchen, but Bucky catches on to your giggles.
"Was the news properly reported?" He asks.
"Apparently, everyone cheered like it was a movie scene," you sit down again on the chair.
Bucky smiles and nods. "Seems about right." He looks up, and his expression is so fucking fond of his friends' happiness that it makes your heart ache in a good way. "Fucking finally."
"Hey, they did it on their time," you come to their defense. Since last night in the backyard when you and Steve had come for each other's defense when everyone else on the circle was trying to come for you two, something sparked inside of you in regards to Rogers. "Can't rush these things. If you pull too hard, it snaps like a band."
Bucky frowns at you with delight. "Who said that?"
You grin. "I did."
"Of course," he nods solemnly, still smiling. "You believe in the natural flow of life, then?"
You pout your lips as you think. "I believe... that forcing anything, even things that we totally think need some... brute force, is useless. Nothing in nature that you bend too hard stays intact. It breaks. It snaps." You shrug your shoulders, ducking your head when you notice you're doing it again. Talking too much. "People are the same."
With Bucky, the silences always say as much as he does.
For the long few seconds he stays quiet, you're still thinking about what you believe in, but eventually missing his answer, you look up despite feeling your cheeks red.
Bucky's staring at you intensely, the hint of a smile on his face. "You're so smart it's scary sometimes," he whispers out loud, like a thought he's blurting out.
It only makes you blush harder. "I'm not that smart," you say in mock-humbleness.
"You know you are." He smiles wider, then takes a deep breath. "And as usual, you're right." Bucky starts putting together the plates to clear the table, but when you extend your arms to start helping, he genuinely slaps your hands. "Ah," he chastises, ignoring completely your slack-jaw at his audacity. "The one who cooks doesn't clean. Don't you dare."
Well, you can work with that. "Fine." You pull your knees back up again, fighting against a smile.
"You just sit there and look pretty. Shouldn't be hard." So it seems the flirting not only got worse, but it's not going away anytime soon. The smile you're fighting starts escaping at the seams with that line, and Bucky clearly catches it. "I'll clean this up," he states.
"Alright."
"Alright," he echoes, teasing you. With Bucky's back to you, it's easier to breathe.
And to talk. "Are you going to the Wilson 1?" You ask.
Another tradition you were — gladly — being dragged into was, apparently, the Wilson 1: The pizza night Sarah and her brother held for only the closest friends after Steve's infamous party. It was supposed to put some much-needed grease and food back into a bunch of adults who drank way too much the previous night and, of course, gossip as much as possible about the party held.
Bucky chuckles. "Y/n, every single tradition involving Sam has directly involved Steve for as long as we've met in the army, twenty years ago or somethin'." He throws you a charming look over his shoulder. "Being Steve's best friend, I'm at every single one of them. You're the newbie one around here, doll."
You scoff and roll your eyes at him, but no matter how hard you fight against a smile, Bucky's is contagious.
"The way you talk it doesn't even sound like you and Sam are friends."
"Force of habit," Bucky laughs, knowing what you mean.
"Was Steve technically your and Sam's boss?" You ask, letting your curiosity peek for once with a question that doesn't feel too invasive.
"Yeah. Captain Rogers." Bucky's shoulders are still as relaxed as before as he washes the dishes, and you don't expect anything else, but he does go on. "We were all thrown in the same unit. Rhodey was our superior for the first years, 'till his injury. Then Steve rose to Captain and it was him, me, Sam, Morita. Then came Gabe. Then Peter and Kim."
Your throat suddenly closes at the mention of Kim.
His face in the picture pops on your mind and for some reason, not talking about him feels disrespectful.
"I saw him in one of Steve's pictures," you whisper.
Bucky catches it, of course.
For someone who technically has horrible hearing — his words, not yours — Bucky always seems to catch your words, even when you barely say them.
He turns around slowly with his posture a little stiffer, but when his eyes lock on yours, he slowly relaxes. "Yeah?" He asks.
You nod, biting hardly on your lip. "Hmhm." You don't know if you can ask or say anything further.
Your mouth runs a little dry with Bucky's eyes on you and for the first time, you feel cold on the inside around him.
Bucky licks his lips and turns back to the dishes. "He was one of the best kids I've ever met." His voice is rougher, like he ate sand, and you imagine if it's the taste of the memories.
Your instinct had been right. The pit of your stomach feels like a desert because of it.
"He looked really nice," you add in a soft whisper. "What was he like?"
Bucky glances over his shoulder again to look at you funnily, but when he goes back to the dishes, his voice carries less of the strain it had before.
"Nerdy as hell." He snorts. "He got me into a bunch of nerd shit."
"I saw."
Bucky's entire upper body turns around now, and his smile is both curious and smug. "Did you, now?" He asks, and it sounds like: someone was walking around the house, huh?
"Yeah." You giggle. "You're into comics."
"I'll have you know, they're amazing," he points an accusatory soapy finger in your direction.
"I never said they weren't." You were into manga for a few years when you were a teenager, but Bucky doesn't need to know that. You giggle again, unable to swallow it down. "You're really into spy comics, though. It's cute."
Bucky sighs exasperated, dramatically turning back around. "No respect, the youth these days."
That makes you laugh harder. "Shut up." You wanna say he's not that much older than you, but the reality of the fact he is hits you right now, thinking of the twenty years Bucky had in the army. That's almost your whole fucking life. "What else? He was a nerdy nerd..."
Scoffing, Bucky goes on. "As mouthy as you, actually," he says, with a quick glance to you. "Super shy with people he didn't know. Took him a whole month to stop calling us 'sir' and shit—fuck," he laughs. "Steve's face every time that kid called him 'sir' was awesome," he adds, sounding like another loud thought. Bucky hums and continues. "He liked plants. Really into herbology and stuff like that—you two would've had your nerd hard-ons talking about shit; he and Steve were always walking around the base having intellectual skits about capitalism and the lie we served and what-not." Bucky gives another snort and places the last dish on the drier. "He was a good, good kid, Y/n." He turns around to you and gives you a sad smile. "Heart of gold."
"Hearts of gold, led by sweet golden cosmic paths," you recite.
Bucky frowns curiously. "Is that you too?"
You shake your head. "Nah. Grandma." You could see her in the kitchen talking about the hurts and the goods in life. "She said that when I asked about mom's older sister—she died when she was a kid. Leukemia." Bucky's eyes widen at that, so you keep going. "When I asked her if she was sad about it, Nana said she lost too many years being sad about it 'till a Priestess taught her that mantra. She said the Priestess did a ritual with her that...I'm sorry, you don't wanna know all this, do you?" You interrupt yourself mid-sentence, feeling again the acidic insecurity bubbling up, but making itself vocal this time.
Bucky frowns at you, seeming genuinely confused. "What? No! Of course I do." He gestures with his hand, and the metal gleams with the morning sunlight. "Please finish?" He asks in a sweet tone.
Swallowing down the thoughts and choosing to believe his words, you finish.
You clear your throat. "Grandma had a tough time dealing with that loss so she went to this Priestess and she did a ritual with her. Nana said after the ritual, where she cried, like—buckets, she told me, that Nana felt lighter somehow 'cause she saw mom's older sister in a river made of gold light, but she didn't know what that meant." The memory is fresh as a daisy on your brain, and you close your eyes. "The Priestess asked Nana: "Did your baby have a heart of gold?", and Nana answered yes. The priestess said the core of some souls are made of gold, and that's why they're too heavy for this earth, sometimes. They leave too soon. It seems unfair to us, but their mission was temporary and we shouldn't hurt ourselves too much over it. She said they have easier passing, and that their hearts bear no pain of this world, anyway. Hearts of gold, led by sweet golden paths." You open your eyes. "Like angels... I guess."
Bucky's quiet, and the silence feels necessary this time.
He looks away from you, fixing his blue eyes outside. The sunlight illuminates the blue beautifully, and you don't feel so heavy anymore.
So much for keeping your mouth shut around him, you guess.
At least you asked him if he wanted to hear it, this time.
Bucky looks back at you, shaking his head at himself. The smile that shows on his face is a little incredulous, and when he gestures to you to come forth with his hand, you feel momentarily stuck to your chair.
"C'mere," he whispers to you.
The words spring you to action, and unglue you from your place.
You get up and walk to stand in front of him, feeling your heart already starting to speed up at the proximity.
Bucky keeps looking at you with those intense eyes made up of a whole storm.
When he lifts his left hand to push a strand of hair away from your face, your whole body shivers.
"You have a way with words," he whispers to you, looking at every inch of your face.
His touch and his words, mixed together, are more effective than most kisses you've had your whole life. "Was just quoting someone else," you shrug, trying to go for nonchalant, but Bucky seems to see past it.
With a lower and darker tone, Bucky whispers. "You know damn well you have a mouth on you."
The words are echoed by the other times Bucky complimented your mouth the previous night.
Hours ago.
Over and over again, cursing at your mouth and how it kissed, how it bit, how it talked. "I seem to reckon you like it a lot," you find yourself answering with more braveness than you imagined.
Bucky's smile turns predatory, and his right arm circles your waist, pulling your body closer to his. "I fucking loved it." He brings his lips in a deliberately slow motion to your neck and starts pressing feather-light kisses there. "And I..." another kiss. "Seem to reckon I said something..." a kiss with a suck to your earlobe, and your body melts against his, pressing fully on him. "About what'd happen if you used it on me today."
You talk like this to me tomorrow and Imma make you cum so hard you pass out, Y/n.
This time, when the moan comes up your throat, you don't bite it down.
"Promises, promises..." you whisper boldly, teasing and pulling his strings.
Bucky's strings are an easy game for you. He moans as he kisses your neck much like he kissed you for the first time, and heat spreads all over your body like you stepped under the hot stream of a shower. "Say it."
You swallow down another moan, and bear your neck wider for him to have access. Playing dumb, you ask. "Say what?"
"You know exactly what," he chuckles, giving a final kiss on your neck. You can feel the slight beard-burn, and it pleases you immensely. Bucky pulls your chin down with his fingers delicately so he can look you in the eye. "Say it."
You smile at him, opening your mouth wider and sticking your tongue out to lick at his thumb on your chin, and as it does, his finger ends up inside your mouth.
You suck on it happily, closing your eyes and humming in pure delight.
When he pulls the finger out of your mouth, you open your eyes to find his looking back at you almost entirely black, his jaw fell open, and his chest breathing a little heavier.
"Make me cum." With the sweetest smile you can muster, you add. "Please?"
Bucky picks you up with the ease of a freaking super-soldier.
It makes you squeal in surprise, which gathers laughter out of him, but the mood quickly goes back to what it was when he starts walking to his room with fingers gripping your ass tight and his eyes boring holes into yours.
He closes his bedroom door behind him with his feet, and anticipation floods every cell on your body.
You're aware of each step you took to get where you are right now, but somehow you still question 'how the hell did I get here', smiling giddily at the man who's lying your body slowly on his bed.
Bucky removes your socks and climbs on top of your body.
"You don't like socks?" You ask with a giggle.
Surprisingly to you, it makes him giggle too. "Nope."
Closing your legs around his waist, you run your feet on the back of his thigh.
"If you ask to kiss my feet or somethin' I'm gonna smack you," you joke.
Bucky hides his laughter on your shoulder. "Duly noted." He supports himself on his elbows, both arms next to your head. "If you ask to kiss mine I'm gonna have to do the same, I'm afraid."
"Oh my god, shut up," you stifle your next laughter right on his mouth.
If there were any lingering doubts on whether kissing Bucky would be different once sober, he puts them all to rest.
Bucky licks his way into your mouth the same way he did last night in Steve's backyard, sending your mind into a frenzy and your body alight, only this time, you can pull his weight on top of yours and grind your body against his as much as you want to.
And god, you want to.
He's even more patient and a tease when he's in bed, though.
The same way you like biting, Bucky enjoys smelling. You noticed the night before and thought it to be strange for a moment, but then he sniffed right under your earlobe and you got so aroused at the way he moaned in your ear that it awoke something in you.
His interest almost feels primal.
His kisses certainly do. Bucky's hands treat your body like play-do under him, massaging and getting a feel of everything, and you do exactly the same to him.
This time you get to discover how much strength you have over him—taking him by surprise must help, when you test pushing his back against the mattress using the strength of your hips and legs wrapped tight around him, Bucky goes with a surprised huff and falls on his back with a smile.
His swollen lips make you want to bite so bad.
So you do. You bite his lips while your hands under his shirt get a feel of his beautiful stomach, and when they travel down further to cup his fully erect cock, both of you moan at the same time.
Right.
You might be a bit of a size-kink whore.
And Bucky is packed. "Fuck." You moan louder, gripping his dick through the fabric of his jogger, and you know technically this is about him proving something to you, but you've never been a passive lover. "Can I please, please suck your dick? Fuck, I wanted it so bad last night—" you kiss his mouth again hungrily, and Bucky's pressing his hips higher to get closer to your hands.
"I don't think I can say no to—nhgn, to that."
"Great. You shouldn't." You remove his shorts at his approval and when the sight of Bucky's cock is right in front of you, your mouth waters.
You look up, and he's watching you closely. Gripping his cock by the base and giving it a tentative lick, you keep your eyes open just to see his reaction, and are rewarded by the sight of Bucky's mouth falling open in pleasure and his head falling back on the pillow as he moans loudly.
Then, he bites down on his lip and you stop licking immediately, so he looks down at you again. "Every time you swallow my sounds I'm gonna stop," you warn.
Bucky groans even louder.
Sucking him off is as good as you pictured as you sat and ground on his lap last night.
Bucky's responsive and his hand on your hair is only there for support. He doesn't push you to go deeper like other guys and lays there with his hips glued to the bed while you take him deeper, slowly, bit by bit.
Giving oral is a pleasure you relish in, no matter who is lying underneath you, and with Bucky it's no different.
With Bucky, it's amazing.
After your warning, he lets out all the pretty sounds inside his mouth and as soon as he realizes just how much being vocal eggs you on, he looks like he found a golden mine. "Fuck—just like that; oh god, yeah. Yeah, like that, baby." He moans at the rhythm you set, and the praise makes you moan around his dick, keeping it just the way he likes it. "Oh fuck, you like it when I tell you, don't you?"
It's the eye contact this time that makes you moan loudly around his dick, and you know the vibrations must do wonders for how much louder Bucky is getting.
"You deserve to, ah... to hear it. You do—that's so good. So fucking good, doll," he's starting to sound out of himself, and that's all it takes for both of you to start getting lost in the pleasure.
Soon, Bucky's shining in a thin layer of sweat again, and both of you are moaning for each other.
You, because now that he found out how much praise is fuel for your fire, keeps every single thought flying out of his mouth, and him, because you are great at following instructions when they come from pleased moans.
Bucky starts to warn you he's about to cum, and you only pull out to say. "In my mouth. Okay?" And you're back with your lips wrapped around him.
He's apparently very good at obeying, too. Bucky's brows crease and you look up into his eyes, sucking it just the way he likes it. When he cums, Bucky can't keep eye contact with you, but watching him is more than enough.
It takes him a couple of seconds to get himself back together but when he does—you squeal higher than before.
He pulls you up and flips you over with impressive strength, and when Bucky pulls your shorts down, he gives you only a look of warning before licking his way up on your inner thighs.
Bucky licks them like he's christening the doors for something, and when he finally takes off your panties, of course the first thing that half-wolf man does is run his nose on the hood of your pussy.
He's licking his goddamn lips.
"Bucky."
"Shhhh," he shushes, licking his lips again. "Tell me if it gets too much, okay?"
Before you can ask what he means, Bucky smiles at you and for the first time that year, you feel like his prey.
He starts slowly and deliberately, but it takes you only a couple of minutes to realize what on earth he meant by too much.
Bucky Barnes eats pussy like it's food for his soul.
It's the only fucking way you can explain it, and if that fact alone wasn't enough to nearly drive up his walls to live in his damn ceiling, seeing him grind his hips down on his bed as he eats you like a meal surely is.
Bucky moans, slurps, sucks on your clit and tongue-fucks your pussy until you're on edge three times.
He hears you say you're about to cum, looks up at you with a smile and slows down his licking and sucking, pulling you back from the edge.
His sheets are about drenched in sweat by the time you plead him to let you cum.
And he does.
He lets you — quite literally, "Cum, doll, cum on my tongue, let me taste it," — and keeps licking you until you have to push his face away from oversensitivity.
Your legs are shaking.
Bucky climbs up your body with his lips redder than ever before and slick glistening around his mouth, so you crash yours against his.
It takes two minutes for both of you to calm down from your orgasm, and when Bucky pulls back from the kiss to pull off your t-shirt which he'd only pushed up, he picks you up again and turns you around.
Just like he promised, he circles your body with his arm and his hand goes down to your pussy, his fingers touching you lightly so you don't feel too oversensitive.
You notice when his naked chest presses against yours that he'd removed his shirt, too, and you sigh in relief when he whispers, "I just wanna see..." and then starts moving his fingers to catch your body's responses.
He waits until you're squirming again to breathe on your neck the question. "Can I fuck you, doll?"
"Please."
For the third time that night, Bucky gives you what he promised.
He opens the drawer to get a condom, rolls it on himself and with deliberately slow movements, starts fucking you slowly. You're so wet from your orgasm, his tongue, him, that no lube is necessary.
He slides in with terrifying ease and even though he's big, he's not big enough to hurt.
"Oh," you breathe out, smiling against your arm. "Feel so full, Buck..." you whisper.
"Fucking hell, Y/n."
"'s nice," you slur the words, brain fucked-out on how good it feels. "Love feeling like this." You wiggle your hips to get him deeper and Bucky bottoms out inside of you, groaning against your nape. "Do it slow, first? Wanna feel it real good," you mumble.
"I'll do anything you want, baby," he slurs back, bucking his hips in slow and full movements.
That's how Bucky pulls you apart.
By the seams.
He pulls you apart by listening to your words and to your body language—he catches on the hitches on your breath and repeats the movements you appear to like until he's cataloged exactly what pushes your buttons, and fucks you just like that.
He picks you apart by allowing you to put his hand around your neck and, understanding the message, starting to choke you as he fucks into you harder and harder, letting every moan and grunt be heard on your neck and your ear.
He puts you back together by letting you dictate the pace, whispering filthy nothings against your skin that you swim on. His words are as silky as his sweaty skin, and he gives all the praise to you freely, like he's done it a thousand times before.
In return, you do what he asks. "That's it, doll, just take it—does it feel good? Like this?" When you moan back a yes, he hums happily, almost laughing on your shoulder. "So good to hear that; fuck. Wanna turn you into a pillow princess, just see you cum all day, just take it like a good girl and feel so fucking good..."
It's impossible to not crumble, and it's impossible not to pull him with you.
When you cum around his dick, shaking with the force of your orgasm and screaming his name, Bucky only has to piston his hips a couple of times more before he's spilling inside the condom and groaning your name, biting on your neck as he keeps on cumming.
You two need several minutes to recover from that.
When you finally do, you notice that it took you both more than an hour to get your hands off of each other.
Bucky turns around, lying beside you, and smiling dopey asks. "Wanna see how many fees I can pay before we have socializing to do?"
His grin is so carefree and seductive that you can't help but laugh.
Who knew the ever-so-serious Bucky Barnes would be the one making you laugh so much while giving you so many orgasms?
"Please, please do."
He laughs with you, and claims he'll cook lunch — "can't do the dirty deeds if we got no fuel, right?" — Bucky leaves you on the bed, still riding aftershocks of one of the best sex of your life.
Not touching this man when you two aren't rolling in bed, sweaty and tangled together, is going to be harder than you imagined.
Swallowing down that thought you put on the first t-shirt you find and get up to join him in the kitchen.
That's a problem for future you to deal with.
NEXT CHAPTER —
Taglist ☆ @undiadeestos ; @keepingitlokiii ; @hallecarey1 ; @mardema ; @mollygetssherlockcoffee ; @fanofalltheficsx ; @justlovelifeblog ; @fallenoutofrose ; @rvgrsbrns ; @tripletstephaniescp ; @mal-edictions ; @rippl3s ; @barnesafterglow ; @vintagepigeon ; @dirtyweenerking ; @couldabeenamermaid ; @winter-soldier-sebstan ; @leyannrae ; @nerdwholikesword ; @andreead ; @ren-ni ; @pastamomma ; @fairytalebucky ; @bvckysmoon ; @buttybarnes1917 ; @rebekahdawkins ; @tylard-blog1 ; @xbeauxny ; @redirection04 ; @thatblondebrownie ; @carrotfantasimp ; @teenagedreams-bucky ; @buckyxplumsss ; @sltwins ; @iamtheonewhocares ; @spiderdudetom ; @mrsbarnesinmyimagination ; @pineprincess ; @carmellasworld ; @cpag7 ; @iambeeee ; @agni-l ; @bahama-mama-llama ; @sstan-hoe ; @hawsx3 ; @weirdowithnobeardo ; @hdbngsprnva ; @itsdawnashlie ; @sweetdreamsbuck ; @slutforsteve ; PART ONE ♥
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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 2 months ago
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I'll Never Smile Again | Bucky Barnes x Reader
Hi, friends! Y'all asked for it ( @taysirene @accountdeletedpleasedisregard ) so here's a part two to Honey, Come Home. ❤️
If you like what you read, please reblog so others can find my stuff. 🥰
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“Take care while I’m gone. I’ll see you Wednesday. Miss you already. -B”
No matter how many times you explained to Bucky that he didn’t have to sign his texts, he did it anyway- but you liked it. The endearing habit always made you smile as though he were sending you letters from the war front back in the 40’s.
“Only if you do the same, Barnes ❤️ Miss you more”
“Impossible, sweets”
“Don’t argue with me, Sarge. 😉”
Bucky chuckled at your text and rolled his eyes at your stubbornness. He didn’t want to leave. He hated spending time away from his best girl and the cozy home he’d created with you. And as he watched sleet coat the windows of the quinjet, he wished he could crawl back into bed next to you to keep you warm. “You gonna make it?” Sam playfully nudged Bucky’s arm with his elbow, “can you survive four days without her?” Bucky delivered a shiny middle finger in Sam’s direction and called over to Hill, asking her when they’d be taking off; he couldn’t keep himself from reading your letter for much longer.
“It’s Sunday. He’ll be back on Wednesday- you can handle it”, you said to yourself in the bathroom mirror after a long shower. “He’s been gone like eight hours- just distract yourself. Focus on work. He’ll be back before you know it”. You threw on one of his shirts and reveled in the warm scent that washed over you, but climbing into bed without Bucky that night just wasn’t the same. The cold poked and prodded at you all night, and you couldn’t seem to catch a wink of sleep to save your life. Sleep always evaded you after Bucky left, and didn’t return until he did.
Monday passed in an agonizingly slow blur. Work left you feeling miserable and drained, and returning home to an empty apartment only made the day worse. “One day down- two to go”, you told yourself as you poured a glass of wine, “keep it together”. Delivery from you and Bucky’s favorite Thai restaurant and a few episodes of Abbott Elementary paired nicely with your wine, but something was missing from your evening. And that something was Bucky. Normally, he’d lounge on the couch with you after cooking the two of you a delicious dinner. He loved to hear about your day and hold you close as the two of you watched tv until you fell asleep in his arms. And then he’d carry you the bedroom and help you change out of your work clothes before pulling one of his shirts over your head. It was a perfect routine.
As Monday came to a close, you wished to sleep through the entirety of Tuesday and wake to find Bucky back home- safe and sound.
“You’re rereading that thing again?” Sam’s voice pulled Bucky’s focus from your slanted cursive, “you are down so bad, Barnes. It’s Tuesday- you’re gonna see her tomorrow. Focus”. Bucky knew Sam was right, but he didn’t mind the teasing. He’d read your letter one hundred times over if it meant he could feel connected to you. Only twenty four hours stood between Bucky and his return home, and he could hardly wait.
With an eye roll, he folded your letter back up and tucked it into the pocket of his duffel bag for safe keeping. His attention returned to the hologram projection of the Hydra base they were working to topple, and Sam laid down the game plan for the last leg of their mission- but Bucky couldn’t dedicate his entire focus to Sam’s words. Part of his mind always remained on you.
The sound of a new text woke you from your dreamless sleep. Part of you instantly grew annoyed at being woken up at 3:48 on Wednesday morning, but the negative feelings dissipated the second you saw Bucky’s name on your screen. A smile pulled the corners of your lips upward as you opened the message, but they fell instantly as you read Bucky’s words.
“Things got out of hand here- we won’t be back until Friday. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I love you. -B”
A few tears blurred your vision as you typed out your reply: “No apology necessary. Just be safe, please. I love you.”
“Promise. Go. Back to sleep, baby. ”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you more.”
“Doubt that, Barnes”
With one swipe of Bucky’s shirt, you banished the tears from your eyes. Minutes passed as you waited for a reply, but Bucky never answered. And after half an hour, your dropped your phone onto your nightstand and tried to go back to sleep to no avail. Waiting for Bucky to return home always felt like putting your happiness on pause. Life without him just wasn’t the same, and the worry that plagued you when he jetted off to fight the world’s biggest enemies threatened to consume you whole. “It’s fine. Just push through to Friday”, you told yourself, “it’s already Wednesday. You can do this”.
Bucky told himself the same thing. If it were up to him, he’d ditch the mission and go home to you in a heartbeat. Nothing had ever made him feel the way you did- so happy and whole. But he couldn’t focus on the warm feeling your messages gave him, not when he had countless Hydra operatives to take down.
Thursday came and went with your minimal participation. You finished only the work that was absolutely necessary and felt the energy draining from your body by the hour. If you could just get through the day and make it home, you could fall asleep as soon as possible and force Friday to arrive sooner. And that’s exactly what you did.
Another text woke you around 1am, but part of you didn’t want to check it. If it was Bucky telling you yet again that he had to delay his return, you feared you’d fall apart. With a deep breath, you opened Bucky’s message- and subsequently fell apart.
“I’m so sorry, doll. Won’t make it home till Sunday. Hate to keep doing this. I love you. -B”
“It’s okay, Buck. Don’t be sorry. You gotta do what you gotta do. I love you.”
Bucky didn’t answer after that.
Surviving the workday seemed impossible. While everyone in your office was abuzz with the joy the end of another week, you drowned in a sea of disappointment. Almost nothing got done the entire day, save for the report your boss stressed absolutely had to be done by five- and even then, it wasn’t your best work. When the end of the workday rolled around, your coworkers began filing out one by one. Offices emptied and the building fell quiet as you sat at your desk, not wanting to return to your sad, empty apartment. Instead, you watched Netflix on your computer and scrolled through Instagram, only departing when the evening cleaning crew showed up.
Saturdays were usually your favorite days. Together, you and Bucky would make coffee and breakfast while listening to the massive playlist you’d compiled together. 40’s crooners and early 2000’s girl groups would fill the air as the two of you cooked and ate bacon, eggs, and pancakes. Then the two of you would sit on the balcony with coffee in hand and people-watch, pointing out every dog you saw and what you would name each one.
But this Saturday was empty. No breakfast, no music, no looking at dogs. You simply laid in bed, wrapped in the sheets that smelled like Bucky, missing him like you’d never missed him before. He’d been gone on much longer missions than this one, but the repeated delay of his return wore quickly on your heart.
Bucky felt the same. He had Hydra operatives to fight and intel to acquire, but he couldn’t get you out of his head. Every extra moment he spent without you placed yet another crack in his strong façade, and everyone on the team knew it. His usual, brooding expression only grew more tense as the days passed, and his shoulders slumped more and more with each passing day. All he had to do was make it through this last leg of the mission and he’d be on his way back home, but he was just so tired. The mental and physical exhaustion threatened to tear him apart, and he knew the only thing that could rebuild him was you.
“On the way home! Landing around midnight- don’t wait up for me. I love you. -B”
“Yeah, like I’m gonna go to sleep knowing you’re on the way back. It’s like you don’t know me at all, Barnes 😉”
It was 9pm on Sunday and you had work the following day, but there was no way you’d miss Bucky’s homecoming. After catching up on the last few episodes of Abbott Elementary, you opened the book you’d been neglecting. But as you dove into the twisted world of Megan Miranda’s All the Missing Girls, yawn after yawn took you over. The enthralling book was no match for the lack of sleep brought on by Bucky’s extended absence, but you did your very best to keep your eyes open.
Bucky slipped through the door at 12:24am, relishing in the warmth and comfort of home. The kitchen and living room sat empty and dark, but a small yellow light spilled into the hallway from your bedroom. He wasn’t surprised. With a quiet groan, Bucky slid his duffel bag from his shoulder and dropped it to the floor. His body was battered, bruised, and bloodied from the weeklong beating he’d experienced at the hands of Hydra- but his wounds weren’t a priority. All he could think about was climbing into bed and holding you against his body until sunrise in an attempt to make up for lost time. But he couldn’t get in bed with you in such a ghastly state.
After slipping off his combat boots, Bucky peeled off his clothes and threw them in the laundry on his way to the bedroom. He found you in bed, dead asleep, with the lamp still on and a book open on your chest. With careful movements, he removed the book from your sleeping form, marked your page, and placed the book on your nightstand without waking you. He knew you preferred when he woke you upon his arrival, but he hated doing it. He’d always much rather you get a full night’s sleep.
He tiptoed carefully into the bathroom and turned on the water, allowing steam to fill the room. The hot water soothed his aching body and tense muscles, but stung against the deep knife wound on his ribcage. A loud, unexpected groan forced its way out of Bucky’s mouth and echoed through the bathroom, making him cringe.
A strange sound woke you just after midnight. Immediately, the sound of a running shower caught your attention- Bucky was home. Without a second thought, you ditched your blankets and dashed to the bathroom in search of your favorite person. His bloody form stood just behind the foggy glass of the shower, his head snapping in your direction as you threw open the door.
“Did I wake you, doll?”
Without hesitating, you opened the shower door and stepped inside- while still clad in your pajamas. “Baby, wait your-” Bucky began, but he didn’t get the chance to finish. You met his lips with yours in a moment full of longing and desperation, anxious to be close to him once again. “Your pajamas are all wet…” Bucky finally said when the two of you came up for air. You threw him a shrug and a “who cares?” before diving back in for another deep kiss, not yet satiated.
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