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#c: james buchanan barnes
jiyascepter · 2 months
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˗ˏˋ➳ Winter Soldier Promo Photoshoot | Lockscreens
one word. hair.
do not repost
pls reblog if you save
requests open 🪼
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peachyspaceslvt · 2 years
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The Winter Soldier
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buckys-metal-arm · 2 years
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So the Tumblr tagging system is annoying and has started doing weird things when I tag my favorite Bucky x readers, so I compiled a list on Google docs of some of my absolute favorites for my own benefit and decided to share! It features the fics of
- @bucky-bucket-barnes
- @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky
- @jobean12-blog
- @bi-disaster-yn
- @sarahwroteathing
- @pherelesytsia
- @celzswrr
- @lovelybarnes
- @lokiandbuckysdoll
- @softlybarnes
- @creme-bruhlee
- @chrisdrysdale
- @dailyreverie
- @majestyeverlasting
- @takenbypeter
- @b6cky
- @asgardwinter
- @wkemeup
- @pellucid-constellations
- @writingsoftheloser
- @dilemmaontwolegs
- @sweetascanbee
- @twilightbarnes
- @blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms
@random-imagines-blog
- @multiverse-fics
- @eddiemunsons-girl
- @buchanan-fics
- @lanadelreyscokewhor3
- @snotwebs
- @kikixreverie
- @straywords
- @summerofsnowflakes
- @tom-holland-parker
- @emitheduck
- @writing-for-marvel
- @lucyhalearchive
- @nexusnyx
- @buckysfaveplum
- @avecra
- @myfirstnameisagent
- @frostironfudge
- @kinanabinks
- @thenhewaswrongaboutme
- @maladaptivexxdaydreaming
- @navybrat817
- @subwaysurf45
- @writerlyhabits
- @beyondspaceandstars
- @themorningsunshine
- @dailyreverie
- apparently Tumblr limits mentions to 50 which is. Homphobia at its finest but includes a bunch more people!
Check it out here and give these amazing writers all the love!
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUCK
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC!Sparrow Lake
Warning: PG-13 Fluff and Cursing and baby 
Summary: It’s Bucky’s 35th Birthday
Words: 503
Info: I haven’t posted for Bucky in a long time, but Country Star!Bucky always has a place in my heart. @firefly-graphics for page breaks. 
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“Oh, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to my baby, happy birthday to the most handsome man in the world, happy birthday, Buck baby, happy birthday to you.” Bucky felt a smile tug at his lips as his wife's body laid cross his body, singing softly in his ear, so as not to wake the rest of her family. 
“I’m getting old, baby. Lay me out in the field and let the crows feast on me, yeah? My bones say I’m getting too old for the late-night shows and rising with the sun. So leave me behind, baby girl. You are far too pretty for a man like me.” Sparrow howled with laughter as she smacked her husband with her cold pillow alerting their huskies from the end of the bed and making them bark. 
“James Buchanan Barnes, I know you be joking, baby, but you are only three years older than I am. I am in my prime, Sir. If I’m in my prime, you can sure as hell bet you are in your prime. Now, I need you to open those beautiful eyes and open the birthday gift I worked extra hard on getting you this year.” leaning over her husband, Sparrow reached over the side of the bed where she lay, grabbing the bag from the floor taking a deep breath, putting a smile on her face. 
Bucky sat up in bed, his bare back against the upholstered headboard, smiling as he took the blue bag from Sparrow. Opening it, he found a small shoebox, his brows instantly coming together in confusion. Pulling the lid off, he found a small pair of cowboy boots that would barely fit a few of his fingers. 
“Love, These aren’t going to fit me. They might fit Mimi, though.” Bucky looked at Sparrow, who had thrown a robe and sat beside him with the blue bag, shaking it. Bucky took the gift bag from his wife and looked at the bottom to see some black and white photographs. His jaw almost immediately dropped when he looked back up at her.
“Are you serious right now?” Bucky thought he just might cry as soon as he saw that Sparrow was indeed crying, taking the sonograms from his hands. 
“All it took was a round of antibiotics for a sinus infection, your grabby hands after the show in Dublin, and we are making a mini us.” Sparrow laid her head against Bucky’s shoulder. 
“We did it, old man.” kissing his shoulder and brushing her finger across the face of the baby on the sonogram. 
“I suddenly don’t feel so old. I will be a dad in, let's see, six months! September. Do you know this is probably one of the best birthday gifts you have ever given me?” Bucky looked down at Sparrow, noticing she was doing the same. 
“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to top this Buck. So happy birthday, may this be one of the best yet.”
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yourgirlsfriday · 1 year
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problematicbastards · 2 years
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I was so excited about that price till I noticed it was pocket sized and then I realized Bucky would 1000% own this and just whip out a tiny Hobbit or LOTR book when he was bored.
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buckybabieboy · 2 years
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So I've read several smut fics about Bucky's first time after 70+ years but never a combination of these:
- touch starved Bucky, him begging the reader to touch him where he needs it the most
- him being iper sensitive, just a simple touch makes him whimper
- cumming a lot, reader can't even manage to suck him or stroke him properly
- still being hard after cumming several times
- he's just a moaning mess who needs attention, his metal hand isn't enough anymore
- his thrusts getting harder and deeper while he loses himself in the feeling, not even able to form a sentence
...could you please write something like this? If the f!reader and Bucky are friends, friends with benefits, in a relationship, how it starts, how it ends... it's up to you.
Wow. Here goes nothin’ BAHAHA.
Starved.
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⚠️TW: NSFW, sub!touch-starved!bucky, dom!fem!reader, blowjob(m!receiving,) p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, slight overstimulation, cockwarming, Bucky being a touch starved and needy little thing, much more lol just read it
☁️Summary: You make Bucky cum for the first time(s) in over 70+ years. Your touch starved little baby.
📝A/N: Thx for this request babie. I tried my very hardest to include everything in here! P.S: I’ve been a very busy person lately, which meant no time for writing. I’m so very sorry! You guys sending in requests really motivates me though. <3 I even used some of your exact words if you look closely, anon ;)
You and Bucky had a relationship that was indescribable. He was honest and open around you, which was something that nobody else could ever say. Wherever you were, so was he, and you didn’t have a problem with that. 
During the time you’ve spent getting to know Bucky, you’ve come to 2 conclusions; James Buchanan Barnes was a broken and damaged man, but that will never mean he’s any less worthy of love. You also noticed a certain desperation in him. The slightest touch would make him go rigid.
You can recall multiple occasions where you’d grab his hand, kiss his head, or simply pull him in for a hug and he’d be all flustered and glossy-eyed. He’d beg you to do those things again. To touch him literally anywhere. It didn’t matter where because to him, any sensation was a good sensation, just as long as it came from you.
Which led you to your second conclusion; Bucky was longing for touch. He was a touch starved, delicate, little thing that just needed to be taken care of. And you had no problem being the one to fulfill his needs. 
As of right now, Bucky has made himself comfortable in your arms, eyelids shut and mouth agape as he indulges in your soft, delicate touch. He’s on your lap and facing you, so you notice even the slightest twitches of his beautifully flushed face. Your fingertips slowly scratch at his scalp, and you feel him fall limp in your arms, as if he’d given himself up to you.
“l- I love that, y/n. please don’t stop...” Bucky mumbles. 
“when you touch me.. f-feels like m’ floating...” Bucky continues to babble and whimper from your simple movements. He’s literally shaking in your lap, which makes your mind wander into filthy places. You’re still awed about how the simplest touches from you make him go mad.
“yeah? feels good?” You ask quietly in response, and he nods his head yes. You feel subtle, but noticeable movements against the skin of your right thigh. His metal fingers were lightly tapping your thigh, as if he needed something to hold on to, to ground him here on earth so that his now ‘normal’ headspace wouldn’t become a fuzzy and floaty one.
“my sweet boy..” you whisper to him, brushing his hair away from his face and behind his ear. He gives you a weary and desperate look in response, and you give him a soft kiss on the nose as an attempt to calm him down. You began to feel something on your thigh again, but it wasn’t his metal fingers. You look down and see Bucky grinding against your thigh, whimpering and hyperventilating while doing so.
“f-fuck, I c-can’t! need more…” Bucky whimpers, hot tears falling from his baby blue eyes. He was so frustrated that he could never do it for himself, it was humiliating for him. You know he’s tried to cum by himself, but his metal hand just wasn’t enough. Poor little baby just couldn’t get himself there, and he needed you to do it. You wipe his tears with your thumb and begin to shush him. He was stiff in his pants, and the fact that he was wearing his comfy gray sweats didn’t make it any less obvious.
“shh… you’re okay James. What is it that you need, hm?”
Your voice was soft and delicate to his ears, which was something that Bucky appreciated. He was feeling so many things right now, it was all so overstimulating for him, but you’re sweet, sultry voice reminded him that he was okay.
“please do something. anything! it hurts, y/n… make it stop, please…”He whimpered, avoiding your eyes. His cock was leaked and stained his sweats.
 His whimpers have gotten even more high pitched as he’s become more desperate for you. You palm him through his sweats which makes him jolt in your lap, practically screaming at the sensation. You haven’t even touched him yet and he’s already so spent.
“get up, baby. gonna take care of you now.” You whisper to him. He gets off of you and sits on the edge of your shared bed as you get down on your knees in front of him. You take off his shirt and undo the drawstring to his sweats, taking them off along with his boxers. You stare at his body in awe. He was so beautiful, so ethereal. All his scars and bruises were so perfect in your eyes. Even that metal arm of his, the one that he would be insecure about from time to time. Your eyes trail down to his aching cock, loads of precum having spilled out from before.
You get up to kiss him on his adorably pink lips before coming back down to leave a trail of kisses down both his trembling thighs.
“y/n, please! Please touch my cock, I need you there!” Bucky yelps at the feeling of your soft, plush lips kissing his legs. He’s so sensitive and whiny, just needing you to touch him where he needs it most. You hum in response and move up to his twitching cock. You plant a kiss on his tip, causing him to let out a gasp and buck his hips up towards you. You notice how stimulated and sensitive his cock is, which wasn’t very surprising. His cock must be aching from being hard and not releasing for so long.
“you’re so hard, sweet boy...let me know if it’s too much, okay?” You say before taking his red tip into your mouth, sucking on it softly. You make sure to make your movements slow at first, not wanting to overwhelm him. The moment your soft, moist lips wrap around him, you hear him stifle a pathetic whimper. When you’re halfway down his shaft, you begin play with his balls with one of your hands.
“keep goin… please don’t stop!” Bucky cries, both his hands gripping the sheets. You finally take his whole cock in your wet mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you go. Bucky had no idea such ecstasy existed; the feeling of your wet tounge on his sensitive cock was almost driving him mad. You could feel his poor cock pulsating in your mouth, which motivated you to continue your movements. You reach down into your shorts and rub yourself through your soaked panties. You didn’t even notice how wet Bucky’s pathetic sobs and whimpers made you.
“f-fuck, y/n that's so good! feels so, so good! gonna make me c-cum!” Bucky continues to babble and cry, the poor little baby couldn’t even manage to speak one complete sentence. He was literally finding it hard to breathe because of the way you were making him feel. This would be the first time in over 70 years since he’s last had an orgasm, so he could feel every little thing. Every flick of your tounge, the vibrations of your moans, the way your fingers fondled with his balls. 
Bucky’s chest rises and falls as he pants heavily, shaking and trembling as he cums in your mouth, his cum painting the back of your throat. He didn’t even notice how much he was cumming until he felt the cold air hit his sensitive cock after you let it out of your mouth. Replacing your mouth with your hand, you start to pump him. Loads of cum continue to spurt out of his cock in long white strings, coating your hand and his spasming thighs. 
“y/n...can’t stop..” Bucky whimpers wearily as he thrusts his hips rapidly into your fist.  
“awh, can’t stop cumming, sweet boy?” you coo at him, continuing to pump his spasming cock, milking him for all he’s got. His cock and your hand were now painted white with his cum. Once you’ve pumped out the last of his creamy warm liquid, you sit next to him on the bed so you could check on him. He immediately falls into your arms, whimpering and babbling like a little baby. 
“need more..wan-wanna be inside you...please? please let me be inside you, i need it!” Bucky cried. Your sweet baby boy was sobbing, visibly frustrated because he still wasn’t satisfied, and you didn’t expect him to be after only one orgasm.
“shh, of course you can, baby. you can have anything you want.” you assure him, understanding how overwhelming this all must be for him. You take his hands in yours and kiss them, and an adorably pathetic whine escapes from him.
His precious eyes glistened, tears falling from them. He was so desperate for you; he’d probably take anything you gave him at this point.  You take off your clothes before scooting back on the bed, laying down and spreading your legs for him. You smile at how Bucky just stares at you, eyes wide at the sight of your wet, glistening pussy.  
“you can touch me, y’know” Bucky's precious turquoise eyes narrow at your words, as if he wasn't certain this was real, as if none of this was, and he was merely dreaming of this euphoria he was experiencing right now. Before you knew it, he’s scrambling to get above you as he thanks you over and over again.
 His flesh fingers glide over your silky skin, traveling from your cheek, down to your neck, before hesitating over your boobs. His cheeks have become flushed, and you giggle softly at how adorable he is. You take his hand in yours and place them on your tender breast, and you watch at how his once flustered and shy expression became a hungry and erotic one.  You give him a soft kiss on his plush lips before gently grabbing his aching cock and aligning it with your entrance.
“m’ ready whenever you are, baby” you coo. Bucky nods his head in response, and slowly enters you. He gasps at the sensation and remains motionless inside of you for some time as he tries to get used to the intense and overwhelming sensation of your warmth.
 “too much f’you?”  You ask him, more than willing to call it quits if he wanted to. Your main focus was to keep him comfortable. You only receive a breathy “nuh uh” in response, and before you knew it, Bucky was pounding into you relentlessly. “Bucky!” You moan blissfully, throwing your head back against your pillow, and wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him even closer.
“f-fuck y/n, s-so warm! feels so good!” Bucky slurs as he continues to jackhammer into you, the feeling of your wet pussy tightening around his cock sending him into overdrive. He buries his head into your neck, whimpering and whining for you. 
You bring your hands to his hair, tangling your fingers in his soft brown locks, which is something that Bucky couldn’t get enough of. You were practically screaming at the way he thrusted in and out of you rapidly. Each time he’d thrust back into you, he’d hit that spot inside you that sends you right over the edge.
“Bucky, you’re doing so well, making me feel so good!” you praise him. He rutted into you even harder at your praise. The sounds you were both making were those of a pornographic film, one you would definitely watch.
 Bucky was a pathetic, babbling mess for you, tears streaming down his face from how good you feel.
“m-my cock... s-so deep inside you...!” Your sweet boy was so pussy drunk; he couldn’t form a complete sentence. His thrusts only got harder and deeper as he loses himself in your feeling. He sobbed, the thought of filling you with every last drop of his cum making his balls tighten. 
“fuckfuckfuck, so close! can I please cum in you? can i? want to cum in you, y/n! I need it!” Bucky pleaded as he continued railing into you balls deep like a savage animal. 
“Go on, sweet baby. cum in me, fill me up.” You say between heavy pants. Your back arches, your hips meeting his as you chase your own orgasm. Bucky’s mind went blank as he released his load into you, his cock pulsating extremely fast in your pussy, which in turn makes you cum right after him. He never stopped his thrusts into your now sensitive and fucked out pussy.
“James, too much okay? m’ sensitive..’’ you mumble shakily, trying to recover from that intense orgasm you just had. 
 “please, y/n.. one more, just feels so good..”
 You nod your head, giving him permission to cum a second time. You tried to pay no mind to how overstimulated you are as Bucky begins to fuck you into the bed, chasing his orgasm for the third time today. He gripped your hips and angled you so he could get deeper inside you. 
You scrunch your face in discomfort at the almost unbearable sensations you were feeling, but the pain quickly subsided into an undeniable pleasure. Your legs begin to tremble around Bucky’s waist, and you bite your lip to stifle a whimper.
Bucky leaned down to bury his face in your neck again, and you felt hot tears fall onto your skin. He wanted to scream out-- his third orgasm was only seconds away, but he couldn’t manage any words. Only broken and pathetic whimpers came from him, as he railed in and out of you, over and over again, neither of you caring how overstimulated you were. An intense shiver runs down your spine and through your body. You almost couldn’t take it anymore, the feeling of his swollen cock hitting your g-spot making you lose all control,
“fuck Bucky, gonna make me cum again!” You wail. You can feel that he’s close too, his cock twitching madly inside your velvety walls. Bucky lets out the most broken and pathetic cry as he bites your shoulder, making you wince slightly.
“y/n..feels so good, feels so fucking good..” Bucky cries softly in between thrusts. “f-fuck! m’ gonna cum inside you again!”
“go ahead, baby. m’ right behind you..” You whisper as you stare at his beautifully fucked out face, nearing your orgasm as well. His thrusts become sloppier and more desperate as he cries out for you.
 You watch Bucky’s eyes roll back as his warm cum fills you up. You follow after him, pussy fluttering around his pulsating shaft. Your liquid drips out your pussy and onto the bed. He thrusts in you balls deep a few more times before falling limp on top of you, cock still buried inside you. 
You and Bucky were both too exhausted to move as you lay there panting heavily. Your fingers massage his sweaty scalp, and his breathing begins to even out slowly.
“that was so.. you made me feel so-” Bucky tries to speak, but only manages to make a few words come out. You kiss his head softly, and he sighs contently as you continue to play with his hair. 
“you did so well, Jamie...” You praise him before looking at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside you.
“come on, Buck. It’s getting late. let’s clean up, okay?” 
Bucky shakes his head no at your words as he buries his face deeper into your neck. 
“don’t wanna pull out just yet. you feel so warm..” Bucky mumbles, pulling the covers over the both of you. He was already exhausted from cumming all those times today, and the feeling of your fingers playing with his hair ever so softly made him even more sleepy. Just this once you would make the exception of sleeping on sheets this dirty. If it were anyone else you would have refused immediately. 
“okay love, we’ll stay here for a while then.” you coo at him, shifting slightly and relaxing in the position you were in. Bucky lets out the cutest little yawn, and a few moments after, begins to softly snore. You stay there, watching your little baby looking the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.
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sergeantbarnessdoll · 2 months
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I Got You » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier
Pairings: Boyfriend/Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America, Sam Wilson/Falcon, and Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow
Summary: Y/N gets kidnapped by HYDRA and Bucky saves her.
Warnings: Fluff, language, HYDRA, kidnapping, blood and bruises, crying, hugs and kisses, cuddling, Bucky being the best/protective boyfriend ever, use of pet names
A/N: This is based off a dream I had.
Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.
Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier
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Bucky was pacing back and forth in the lounge room of the Avengers Compound, wondering why you are there yet. You told him that you would hangout at the Compound while he trains for an upcoming mission.
“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asks, walking in the room.
“I’m worried about Y/N.” Bucky says.
“Did something happen to her?” Sam asks.
“I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Bucky says, running his fingers through his hair.
Natasha walks in the lounge room with a phone in her hand.
“Barnes, someone’s on the phone for you.” Natasha says, handing him the phone.
Bucky furrows his eyebrows, taking the phone from her. If it’s you, you would’ve called his phone.
“Hello?” Bucky answers.
“Didn’t take long to get ahold of you, Winter Soldier.” The man says in a Russian accent.
“What the hell do you want?” Bucky asks.
“It’s more like who I have.” The man chuckles. “Meaning, your precious doll.” He says.
Bucky felt his heart drop and his mind started racing. He began thinking the worst.
“I swear if you do anything to her. I’ll-” Bucky got interrupted.
“You’ll what, Soldat? Kill me? That wouldn’t do you any good if you want to find your best girl alive.” The man says and hung up.
Bucky stood there frozen as the line went dead. His blood began to boil. He shoved the phone in Natasha’s hand and went to find Steve. Sam and Natasha looked at each other in confusion before following Bucky.
“Steve, get your shield.” Bucky says, walking in the conference room.
“Why?” Steve asks, furrowing his eyebrows.
“Barnes, what’s wrong? Who was on the phone?” Natasha asks.
“HYDRA. They have Y/N.” He tells them.
“What did he say?” Sam asks.
“That they have Y/N and that’s it.” He explained. “I really need to find her.” He says, tears brimming his eyes.
“We’ll find her, Buck.” Steve says softly, putting a comforting hand on his best friend’s shoulder.
Meanwhile, you woke up to the feeling of your head pounding. You moved to get up, only to find out that you were strapped down to a chair, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.
“I was wondering when you would going to wake up. I was beginning to think that one of my men struck you too hard and killed you.” A man’s voice said.
You looked up, seeing a bunch of people surround you.
“My name is-” You interrupted him.
“I don’t care what your fucking name is. Where the hell am I?” You asked.
You yelped when his hand smacked you across your face, hard enough to make your head turn. He gripped your jaw roughly and looked in your eyes.
“It’s rude to interrupt people when they’re talking.” He says.
He let go of your jaw and walked away for a moment before watching back towards you.
“Now, you know someone we want back.” He says.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” You lied, knowing that he’s talking about Bucky.
“Really? The name James Buchanan Barnes doesn’t sound familiar to you?” He asks.
“No.” You lied again.
“Liar!” He shouts, smacking you again causing you to whimper in pain. “You know who he is cause you’re wearing his Army dog tags!” He yells. “Where is he?” He asks.
“Fuck you!” You shouted. “He’d never come back to this hell hole!” You say.
The man chuckled before turning to two of his men.
“Take her to a cell.” He tells them.
They nodded and uncuffed you from the chair, carrying you down the hallway. You tried your best to fight them off, but their grip on you was too strong. The more you fought them, the tighter their grip got. When they got you to a cell, they threw you in there. You fell to the floor and hit your head causing you to whimper in pain. You put a hand on the spot where you hit your head, feeling a little bit of blood trickling into your hand. You sat against the wall in the corner of the cell, pulling your knees up against your chest and wrapped your arms around them.
“Bucky, where are you? Please hurry.” You say to yourself, tears rolling down your cheeks.
Meanwhile, Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Natasha were on their way to you. Bucky tugging at his hair and was pacing back and forth in the quinjet, feeling like he was losing his mind. Bucky’s mind immediately started thinking the worst.
“Buck…” Steve snaps Bucky out of his thoughts. “We’re going to find her.” He says.
“What if we don’t? It’ll be my fault for not saving her.” Bucky says.
“None of this is your fault and you know it. Y/N knows it too.” He says softly, putting a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder.
“I can’t lose her, Steve. She’s the love of my life. I won’t survive without her.” He tells his best friend with tears in his eyes.
Steve gave Bucky a hug.
“I’m sorry to break up your moment, but we’re at the base.” Sam informs the Super Soldiers. “Are you ok, man?” He asks Bucky.
“I will be when I get the love of my life back.” Bucky says.
Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Natasha got off of the quinjet and cautiously approached the base, finding an unlocked door. They went inside of the base and split up so they could find you. You jumped at the sound of an alarm and gunshots. You stayed in the corner of the room, continuing to hug your knees. The next thing you knew, the door was kicked down causing you to cover your head in fear and your heartbeat to pick up. Bucky carefully approached you, making sure to not scare you.
“Doll, it’s Bucky.” Bucky says softly.
You uncovered your head and looked up, seeing your boyfriend. You immediately stood up and hugged him, breaking down into tears. Bucky held you tightly in his arms, tears escaping his eyes.
“You’re ok. I got you, babydoll.” He whispers.
He pulled away from the hug to kiss you passionately. Bucky felt relieved, knowing that you’re ok.
“I’m so happy that you’re alive.” Bucky says in almost a whisper, looking deep in your eyes.
He kissed you once more before informing Steve, Sam, and Natasha that he found you and you’re alive and safe. He picked you up bridal style and carried you to the quinjet, taking you to the Compound. Bucky helped you get cleaned up and patched you up, kissing each one of your injuries. Luckily you sustained minor injuries. Bucky has not left your side in the past few days. He helped you through a nightmare when you woke up crying. He held you close to him and you guys watched movies to get your mind off of everything. He even made coffee for you in the morning.
“How’s Y/N doing?” Steve asks Bucky.
“Last night, she had a nightmare and woke up crying.” Bucky tells them.
“She’s going to get through this, Bucky.” Natasha says, putting a comforting hand on his right arm.
“We’re here for her if she needs anything.” Sam says.
“Thanks, guys.” Bucky smiles at them.
Everyone went quiet when you walked in the kitchen. You smiled softly at them, playing with one of the sleeves of your -Bucky’s- sweatshirt.
“You ok, doll?” Bucky asks, handing you your coffee and wrapped his arms around you.
“I’m fine. I just got lonely.” You say, taking a sip of your coffee.
Bucky held you close to him and kissed the top of your head.
“I wanted to tell you guys thank you for helping Bucky save me.” You say.
“We’d do it again.” Steve says with a smile.
“We’re here for you, Y/N.” Natasha says.
“We’re just happy that you’re ok.” Sam says.
You gave them a smile. They left the kitchen, giving you and Bucky time alone.
“Thank you for saving me, Bucky.” You say, looking up at him.
“You don’t have to thank me, doll. I will save you no matter what.” Bucky says softly with a smile.
Bucky took your coffee from your hands and put it on the counter. He cupped your cheeks and kissed you passionately. Bucky is so happy to have his best girl back. He’s going to do everything he can to protect you. One thing’s for sure, he’s never letting you out of his sight again.
“I love you so much, doll.” Bucky says softly, moving a piece of your hair from your face.
“I love you more, Buck.” You say in almost a whisper, looking in his beautiful blue eyes.
🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵
-Bucky’s Doll
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ofstarsandvibranium · 8 months
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My Sweetheart: Part 2
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Summary: You purchase a vintage sweetheart bracelet from an antique store and with it, comes the spirit of the woman who owned it. Through her, you go on an interesting journey to find out what happened to her old lover.
Part 1
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It's been two days since you've basically taken a ghost back home with you. Said ghost named Dot who was attached to the sweetheart bracelet you bought. In the few days since discovering her, you've discovered that she can be pretty powerful. She'll open doors, knock things over, stuff to grab your attention. While she does have a lot of energy, communicating with you can take a lot out of her sometimes. Now it's day three and you're at your computer with a pen and paper beside you to see if she can give you the name of this Jamie person.
You watch as the pen moves a bit but doesn't lift. You're sure she's trying her best, but it kind of frustrates you. You want to help Dot so she can move on and so that you can get back to living your regular life, completely alone without your newfound ghost roommate.
Ways to talk to ghosts
You type the words into google and click on the first link you see: ouija board, a spiritual medium, pendulums, rods, voice recorder, or a spirit box.
Out of all the options, you felt like the ouija board would be the best bet to communicate with Dot. So later that day you go to your local Target and purchase a ouija board, because, yes, they do sell those there. The board being considered as a game.
Later that night, after you've had dinner, you sit in your living room. You have the ouiji board set on your coffee table. The lights are off in the room except for a few candles you lit. You place the sweetheart bracelet beside the board, hoping it'll bring as much of Dot's energy as possible. Beside that, is a pad and paper for you to jot notes
You take the planchette, sliding it over to HELLO.
You take a deep breath, "Dot, are you here?"
With your fingers lightly touching the planchette, they slide towards YES on their own.
"Alright. What is your full name?"
You watch at the device slides over each letter to spell out D-O-L-O-R-E-S-M-I-L-L-A-R-D.
"Dolores Millard. Okay. Nice to meet you, Dolores. But I'm assuming you prefer Dot?"
YES, she says as it slides to the upper left of the board.
"Alright, Dot. Who is this Jamie you want me to look for him? Why do you want me to look for him?"
J-A-M-E-S-B-A-R-N-E-S
"James Barnes? Uuuhh, is there anything else you can give me? Does he have a middle name? It'll make things easier to looking him up."
B-U-C-H-A-N-A-N.
"James Buchanan Barnes. Alright. Give me a second," you pull out your phone and type in James Buchanan Barnes as well as 1940s.
You went through a list of men, Dot either telling you YES or NO. Then it hit you, "Wait. Hold on."
You type in BUCKY BARNES to google and tap on a picture captured of him and Sam Wilson, "Is this your Jamie? Is Bucky Barnes your Jamie?"
YES.
"...well shit!"
_______________________________
Bucky didn't expect things to go this way. He didn't think he'd find himself working beside Captain America again. However, he did find it therapeutic in a way. Sure, he still went to therapy, just not with Dr. Raynor anymore, but this was a different kind of therapeutic. This was him doing good, to make up for all the bad he's done as the Winter Soldier.
The newly renovated Avengers Compound in upstate New York was where Bucky stayed a majority of his time. He still had his place in Brooklyn when he needed to get away from Sam and the newbies, but, for the most part, this was where he can be found.
"Uh, hey, Mister Barnes?"
Bucky looks away from the tv to see Kamala looking at him confused, "What is it, kid?" He asks the young Avenger.
"So there's this lady in the main lobby asking for you. She said it's important?"
"Define important."
Kamala shrugs, "I don't know. Something about a bracelet and a lady named Dot."
Bucky's brows raise in interest, "Dot?"
"FRIDAY?"
"Yes, Bucky?"
"Bring up the CCTV footage of the lobby?"
"Got it," a holoscreen appears and you're seen sitting in a waiting area. Your leg is bouncing, your fingers are tapping on your lap.
"Is she someone you know?" Kamala asks.
Bucky shakes his head, "Nope, but she's mentioned someone that from my past. So I guess I'm gonna talk to her."
Kamala excitedly asks, "Need backup?!"
He chuckles at her eagerness. Even after working with Carol and Monica, Kamala is always wanting to jump in to help, "I think I'll be okay. You can watch the live footage if you want, just in case."
"OKAY!" Kamala plops herself onto the couch where Bucky previously sat and watched the holoscreen eagerly.
It takes a few minutes for Bucky to get to the lobby. The new Avengers Compound is much bigger now after Thanos destroyed the first one.
His brows furrow as he thinks about Dot. It's been literal decades since he's seen her. He knows she's long passed away after looking her and several other of his loved ones up on the internet. She ended up marrying another guy, had a few kids, and a few grandkids. She died about a decade ago.
When Bucky entered the lobby, you spotted him immediately. One of the security guards rushed to stop you, but Bucky held his hand up, "It's okay."
He then looks at you, "Do I know you?"
You shake your head, "No, sorry, um...can we go somewhere private?"
It's Bucky's turn to shake his head, "Sorry. Since I don't necessarily if you're a threat or not, this is the best we can do."
"Alright," you sigh and pull up your sleeve to reveal a bracelet, "Does this look familiar to you?"
Bucky looks down at your wrist and gestures, "May I?" You slip it off and place it into his metal hand. He looks at it and suddenly remembers, "Dot. I gave this to her before I was shipped out for the war."
"Right. Okay, so, um...do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Barnes?"
He snorts, "Call me Bucky, and, I mean, I've fought aliens, super soldiers, died and came back a few times now, so, sure, I guess ghosts are real. Why?"
"Soooo it seems that Dot's spirit is still connected to this...realm...? Anyway, she's attached to this bracelet and her spirit asked me to find you. I think, maybe, for some closure?"
"Is Dot here now?" Bucky asks, a bit, weirded out by this whole thing.
You shrug, "I don't know. I can't see her."
"Then how'd you communicate with her?"
"She wrote on my steamed up mirror the first time and then it's been primarily through ouija board."
"Those things actually work?"
"Seems so. Anyway, I'd really appreciate it if you helped me give her spirit closure so I can start living a normal life again, sans my new ghost roommate."
Bucky snorts. You're very interesting. It seems you're also very determined and a little desperate to solve this Dot situation out. Bucky's not busy. Sam's away on his own mission, so that leaves Bucky to some free time.
"Yeah. Sure, I guess I'll help."
"Thank you!" you fist bump the air, "Should we start now?"
"What exactly should we do first?"
You slip off your tote bag that you've been carrying and pull out the ouija board you've been using, "We can make contact with Dot?"
"You're...efficient," you shrug and Bucky chuckles, "Yeah. Sure. Okay. Um, we need to get you clearance first so, uh, come with me." You follow him to the desk and watch as he discusses your clearance badge to one of the security. You never thought buying a pretty vintage bracelet from an antique store would lead you to meeting an Avenger.
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sonnetsoncanvas · 1 year
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Mess it up
Summary: Years ago he had let you go for your own good. But this time, he isn’t sure he can
Part of the Mess it up series
Pairing: brother’s best friend rock star Bucky x fem reader (Steve’s sister) (dual pov)
Warnings: modern AU, angst, second chance, eventual smut, brothers best friend trope, implied cheating, self-deprecation, happy ending?
Inspired by: Mess it up by Gracie Abrams
Notes: This is the first time a fic has made its way from my laptop to the internet. So please be kind and do leave your feedback. Happy reading! 
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Chapter 1:  How could I think that all that I gave you was enough?
Bucky Pov:
Walking down the street, he heard a group of teenagers screaming his song on the top their lungs. A small smile tugged at his lips as he pulled his cap down over his silken brunette locks.
After all, if anyone recognized James Buchanan Barnes, the lead singer of the Avengers, in the middle of the farmers market…. Well that would be another headache to deal with.
A tabloid on the newsstand with his face plastered on it caught his eye. The headline, "who is the muse behind our heartbreak prince’s chartbusters. Is there a special someone in the Avengers heartthrob’s life?"
He scoffed, knowing all too well what would be written in the article. They would have papped him with yet another woman, and casted her as his girlfriend, or even fiancé.
It didn’t bother him anymore. These made up lies, these speculations, only helped in building the enigma around him, the quiet, reclusive rockstar who kept a tight leash on his personal life.
As long as they didn’t know the truth behind the inspiration for his songs, the reason why he wrote and sang songs so emotive, that they earned him the misnomer of the heartbreak prince. As long as everyone remained oblivious to his own heartache, he was unconcerned.
And oblivious they were. nobody knew. Not even his best buddy, his bandmate and flatmate, Steve. And Bucky couldn’t ever let him know too.
Because if Steven Grant Rogers ever knew that it was his childhood best friend who broke his precious little sister’s heart, he would leave the band and Bucky with it, 30 years of friendship be damned.
And so Bucky carried this secret in his heart for years, well hidden from the rest of the world, about his first and only love.
Because he could never even try to deny it. It was you, had always been you.
Even if he had to let you go, he could never bring himself to fill the void that you had left behind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He carried the shopping bags into the spacious penthouse that he shared with Steve, dropping them off at the kitchen counter. “Thank you for helping me carry these bags inside punk” he sassed at the blond mass of muscle glued to the television. “Especially considering the fact that your lazy ass nagged me into going to farmer’s market early in the morning. On a Sunday. To buy mangoes. ALONE.”
“well, A. if you don’t go early all the good produce is gone. My ma told me that. B. Farmer’s market is only there for Sunday. And C. I did not come cause I was injured.” Steve pointed to a small cut on his pinkie with a cheeky smile.
“bullshit! You once went for a concert with a dislocated shoulder. Do not give me that crap. And since when did you start eating mangoes?”
“they aren’t for me.”
“you’re telling me Nat gave up whatever stupid diet she’s on?” Bucky was referring to Steve’s on again off again girlfriend Natasha Romanoff, a supermodel, whom he’d been dating since college.
“like that’s gonna happen” he chuckled, “the mangoes are for Y/N”
Bucky froze in his tracks.  It wasn’t like your name wasn’t mentioned around here. You were Steve’s sister after all , and he did keep sharing your latest achievements and tit bits from your life time and again. But that didn’t mean his heart didn’t skip a beat every time anything remotely related to you was mentioned.
“you got mangoes for Y/N ?  are you planning to visit her in Boston ?” he asked
“Yeah, about that man, I told you that she graduated top of her class at Harvard, Right?”
“yeah” Bucky said, secretly proud of you. Your convocation was a few weeks ago, he didn’t attend for obvious reasons, but Steve did, and he heard everything he had to say about it.
“So of course lil peanut got a lot of offers but it all comes down to these two jobs, one in this firm at Manhattan and other one in San Francisco. So she’s coming here to interview and then stay here for a week, cause I literally begged her to. She’d already interviewed for the San Francisco one online, but between you and me, I'm tryna get her to stay here, its been too long………”
Steve kept on rambling, but somewhere in between Bucky’s brain stopped comprehending his words. All he could think was you.
You are coming.
To New York.
To stay.
Under the same roof as him.
He will see you.
After 4 years.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He stayed in his room for the rest of the day. Reminiscing with his eyes closed. Of his life back in Brooklyn, of the happiest year of his life, of falling in love
Of the last time he saw you. tears marring your beautiful face. Pain and betrayal in your eyes. Your shoulders sagged with defeat.
“I can never stop loving you.” you’d said.
He opened his eyes with a long, suffering sigh. He has no idea how he’s going to survive seeing you again.
Because he couldn’t stop loving you either.
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holylulusworld · 4 months
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The Widow - Prologue
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Summary: You trust now one. Not since they got your husband killed.
Pairing: TFaTW!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader
Warnings: death of a loved-one, reader is under protection, bitchy reader, arguments, grumpy Bucky, angst, blood, character's death,
The widow masterlist
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Blood…so much blood. 
You always feared your life with Ransom would end like this.
On the run, without anyone siding with you but the cops.
After your husband ratted his partners out it was only a matter of time before you ended up dead.
One greedy agent and you held your dying husband in your arms.
He choked on his blood, staring up at you with scared eyes. “Y/N…sorry…Y/N…”
“You goddamn idiot,” you cried and kissed him hard. “I know…I love you…”
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Two years later…
“Why me?” Bucky releases the deepest sigh ever leaving his lips. “Sam, I don’t want to play babysitter for some spoiled woman. Maybe Torres can protect her.”
“Bucky, you are the only super-soldier I know. Torres is a good man and can stand his ground d. But the people who are after Y/N Y/L/N are not the cuddly kind of enemy. If they try to kill you, they use a scalpel to cut you into tiny pieces, not a weapon.”
“Do you try to cheer me up, or scare me?” Bucky scoffs. “You want me to risk my life for some criminal’s wife? Why? We agreed on doing this job to protect the innocent, not people getting rich at the expense of others. That’s not who we are.”
“We protect people who need protection. She ended up in this situation because she fell in love with the wrong man. I checked her background and found out that until her marriage with her deceased husband, she was a good person without a criminal record.”
“She lived a fabulous life, spending money she didn’t earn,” the super-soldier grunts. “How do we know she won’t rat us out, and we all end up dead?”
“You jump out of an airplane without a parachute and now you are scared of a widow needing your protection?” Sam grins. “Aw, are we getting old?”
“Watch your tongue,” Bucky points his gloved index finger at Sam. “I didn’t say that I’m scared. I just don’t trust a criminal’s wife.”
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“Who’s that?” You size the new arriver up. “Another loser not knowing how to handle a gun?” You sneer as the agent tries to find another lie. “What? Do you want to tell me that this one will protect me and my husband better than the last agents?”
“Mrs. Y/L/N, this is James Buchanan Barnes,” the agent stammers, as if you should know the name. “He’ll protect you at all costs.”
“Oh, yeah? Like the other ones protecting us before?” You cock your head and raise your hand to stop the agent from talking. “Did you forget that you got my husband and his brother killed?”
“He got killed because he did business with the wrong people,” Bucky sneers. “You made your bed, now sleep in it. I’m not here on free terms. No one wants to protect the likes of you.”
You grit your teeth and glare at the newly arrived asshole. “Do you think I care? One of your so-called fine people ratted my husband and me out for some hard cash. So, you are no better than me. At least I didn’t kill people for money.”
“I see you will get along very well,” Sam pats his friend’s shoulder. “Just remember, don’t kill her. She’s the last witness alive. If she dies, they will all get away with their crimes.”
“I should leave you to your misery. Why should I care about their crimes?” You pucker your lips. “You got my Ransom killed! He only tried to make more money than his fucked-up family. He never harmed anyone with his transactions! When he found out about their crimes, he did the right thing!”
For a moment, you let your mask slip, and the grief shows. Bucky blinks, but the sadness in your y/e/c orbs is gone, and he’s not sure it happened. 
"Just shut up princess and we will get along very well..."
Part 1
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Tags in reblog.
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nexusnyx · 1 year
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to my sweetheart
40s!bucky barnes x f!reader [8.2k] summary: The promise of a weekend home hangs over Bucky's head like the sun used to shine on sweet summer days, illuminating everything in life. It's all planned out in his head: the place he'll take you to, the things he wants to talk about, the hundreds of ways he needs to touch you. It's all planned. A taste of how it'll be when the storm passes—he's ready for it. 📝 this was based on this post. if you like it, reblogs and comments make all the difference. i hope you enjoy this sweetheart saturday, 'cause this will be the sweetest one. 🏷️ established relationship, letters, angst, longing, love delcarations, Steve x Reader (platonic) ⚠️Smut. Minors, DNI. Unprotected sex, body worship, slow fuck.
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masterlist | series masterlist
ㅤㅤㅤJuly, 1943.
My sweetheart,
You're a menace even from far away. How can that be? If I hadn't met you exactly like this, I'd dare say I'm surprised. But I'm not. Little minx. Do you know the lengths of what I had to do to finish your last letter? The effects you have on me, even from far away?
I bet you do. Good god, I can bet you're fuckin' smiling, right now. Sittin' there all pretty with your knees pulled high, so giddy and proud of yourself for what you've done to me. Well—let it be known that this here... this is payback.
First things first, thank you for the pictures.
You're more than I could ever ask for, every single time. One of them is safely tucked inside my uniform. I placed the other one inside my pocket watch. Morita's already laughed under his breath as if I can't fuckin' hear him sayin "you don't let a single hour pass by, huh, Sarge?", so you should be happy to know that, as well. My guys are giggling because of me. Because I'm whipped for you.
Second of all... thank you.
From the bottom of my heart which belongs to you entirely, I'm thankful for you. Knowing Ma has a friend in someone soothes my soul. I got a letter from her a few days ago—she's mad at me for dating you "for almost half of an entire year, James Buchanan. almost half a year and you didn't think to bring her here yourself! You'll count yourself lucky if you go back to the base camp with your ears still intact because when I see you..." and this is a direct quote, by the way. I have her letter right next to me—Ma's mad, and I'm glad that she is. It means she loved ya. As I knew she would.
What did you two talk about? Ma said you played with the girls, too. I think I dreamt of that scene. Did she show you my embarrassing baby pictures? I bet she did. My favorite one is the one that Stevie's got paint all over him; I love that one.
Now... as for the rest of your letter.
What should I do to you, hm?
You can't just tell me these things, you lil' witch. Can't just talk about the things you wished I was doing to you, 'cause I'm not there to do them, and it makes my chest tight, my heart beating faster.
I went to the showers at 2 something a.m. to finish that letter, 'cause I felt your words like caresses all over my skin. Here's a new acronym I learned from Gabe: V E N I C E. Wanna know what it means? I'll tell ya.
It means I think about it, too. Not often, unfortunately, not because I don't want to, but because in here I have very few moments to think about good things, but when I do, that's where my mind goes to—in the sweet minutes I have all to myself, my mind runs back to your presence like a puppy, wiggling its tail with its tongue out, so happy and so excited beyond words because of one single person.
My mind rushes to you, to memories of us, to moments we shared. Most of all, it seems to zoom in on the seconds where we were the closest. I save those memories for the stars, for when no one else's around, for when I can let my brain dive and swim in them.
You said that for you, what comes back when you're alone in the dark is the ghost of my hands.
For me, it's the fathom of your lips.
The way you kissed put a spell on me. Right now, as I write this, I'm sitting alone in a corner of the common showers with my neck sweating just a little bit and my heart beating in my throat, all because of that: the thought of your lips, so present and so sweet, making me ache all over. Should I be concerned, lil' witch? With the way you have control over my body even from far away? As if I were a puppet with strings only you can see, I'm aching for you and you're not even here. I'm hard, painfully so, because your picture and the distant echo of your giggles in my ear are enough to put me in a trance... the way you whisper my name when my hands are searching in menace ways the best path to get under your clothes and imprinted all over your skin... It's so difficult to write like this, sweetheart. Very Excited, Now I Caress Everywhere... d'you get it now? D'you see it?
I'm not there, but I can see you reading this. I can see your thighs clamping together in a pitiful attempt to not think about how I loved to tease the path to my favorite place, with my hands, my lips, my tongue. I'm gonna dream about it tonight, I can already see it. Gonna dream about your little whines, and how excited you got, while always being so good. Never asked for more. Never pushed for faster. Just took whatever I had to offer you, and asked in the sweetest way possible for what you wanted. "Jay." I miss that. The way you call me Jay when it's just us. No one's ever called me that before, and no one ever will again.
So do it, lil' witch. Touch yourself all you want when thinking about me. You had to ask for permission, didn't ya? (It's a rhetorical question. You never have to ask. I told ya long ago that from me, you can take and take without ever asking first, and yet you did, anyway.) I'm the luckiest bastard in this godforsaken and twisted world, all because of you.
I'll be there on the last weekend of this month, only for two days, but it'll be enough.
Just a taste of what'll come for us when all of this is over. A taste of you — that I miss so goddamn fuckin' much, Jesus Christ, sweetheart — and hours and hours of making you smile until it's imprinted in the walls of my brain, secured safe and sound in the labyrinth of my mind.
Wait for me, but never sadly. Keep up your studies, and focus on them just as I focus on work here whenever I have to. Talk to your friends, stay clear of those damn radios that only make you anxious and get you to bite your pretty nails, take Steve out for walks and keep that neighborhood in check, the two of you. I'll be back. I'll always come back to you.
With love in my heart (and because of your menace ways, my hand in my pants), I say goodbye for now,
V.E.N.I.C.E;
always yours, J.B.B.
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In a month and a half, Bucky has written and read more than in the past decade, at least.
You'd scold him for admitting such a thing so easily, but it was true.
There are a few letters exchanged by now—the U.S. Postal is doing their best, but can only do so much—but they're enough on their own. More than two, sometimes 3 pages long, filled with more post scrimptums than anyone else rather than you two would care to read and it's probably acceptable, and always signed with a lot of love.
It's a whole new world created between the two of you where childhood memories are shared, secret fears that neither Bucky nor you ever imagined talking about are laid on the table, and all of that written between paragraphs of gossip stories from home or the military base, and dirty dreams and wishes.
A mess. An entire conversation—one with topics that go back and forth since the first letter and short pieces of dialogue you two shared with important people; it's the best conversation he's ever had.
The longest. Deepest.
ㅤㅤㅤ"I love talking to you, Jay. If before I thought we were two peas in a pod, now I'm certified of it the same way I'm certain the Sun rises in the East to set in West. Can you see the same thing I do? Sometimes, it feels as if we're sittin' on our porch, on our living room armchairs, laughing to one another about the sweet memories or silly theories that only we find amusement in."
Through you, Bucky hears things his Ma is saying. Gets news from his two younger sisters, as well as realistic check-ups on Steve.
In one of your letters, you said, "you know, I'm starting to feel calluses. I dreamt of writing dark children's books for so long, and I think this is my punishment, in some sort of way. How in the hell am I having an argument with Steve and you through here? You two are wrong. We talked about this before and I'll say it as many times as needed: this whole 'trip to the future' thing is hiding something bigger, and it's cute that you two think that geniuses and billionaires are just giving us all of their biggest developments. Truly adorable," and it had sparked the favorite topic in his unit: the existence of aliens, or not.
You're there without being there.
Most of them don't even know about you, of course. Bucky's private, and likes to be that way.
Morita, Gabriel, and Dum Dum are exceptions—those tree men proved to be the exact type of company a fella needs when facing an untamed and suffocating darkness.
They teased Bucky about his alone 'poet' time. When the time in July finally came for the soldiers to be dismissed for a weekend home before being shipped to London, Morita bid him goodbye with, "and see if you do something else other than writing back home, eh, Sarge?"
Bucky would.
He barely gets any sleep, waiting for the time when he'll be sharing your presence and counting each minute of it, placing them in the same precious box he kept your words.
With his eyes closed, the smile sets in stone on his face.
To any onlookers that pass him by, Sgt. James Barnes looks at peace.
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Everything around him feels sharp and colorful.
Bucky almost feels surreal—his energy is humming underneath his skin, scorching as hot as the star that starts to rise.
He breathes in deeply as he steps out of the train, welcoming the smell of home.
Brooklyn is a hive of noise, so loud and different than anything he'd been used to these past weeks, and he strides in confidence towards his destinies.
For each of his people, Bucky told a story, but all for a good reason:
First, he has to visit his family. If he had told Steve about the time his train arrived, he'd be there without any regard for his sleep and comfort, and Bucky loved him too much to pull him out of bed before the sky had even lost its dark blue tones.
So first, he goes to the Barnes household.
Bringing bread, he steps inside his home almost feeling like the first rays of sunshine itself. Bucky's welcomed by the oldest feeling of attached to being safe and sound when Winnifred's arms wrap around him and she lets out a choked gasp at his name.
"James," is the first name he hears.
He's James during breakfast while he updates his mother to the best of his abilities, and fights the persistent sting in his eyes whenever the light illuminates her dark hairs, shining evidence in her new silver strands. He's James — but in a scolding tone — when his mother hears that he omitted from Steve his arrival time, and he's oh, James when his plans for later tonight are laid on the table in a soft, almost shy-spoken tone.
"I really like her, you know?" his mother tells him.
She's leaning against the sink with her ruby red robe, the soft slippers he bought for her as a present, and her hair held up in a bun. Bucky smiles at the approval, ignoring the heat in his cheeks that blossom at his mother's all-knowing gaze and the glint in her blue eyes. "I'm glad to hear that, ma."
Winnie does no effort to hide how pleased she is, and he has to admit that the teasing face he catches in reflections sometimes came from one person, and it wasn't his father. "Will I get to spend some time together with the two of you, at least?"
According to Bucky's plans, very little, because the time was as counted as their paychecks. "Well—today I'm gonna have lunch with Steve, then the three of us will meet up."
"Right."
"We'll probably hang around Stevie and I's apartment. Then we'll get ready to go to the Stark exhibition."
Winnie's are you serious look reminds Bucky that she never saw the three of you all hanging around together. "Really, James?"
"What?"
"You're gonna bring that poor, sweet boy to chaperone and be a third wheel at your date? Son," the title is another scolding and meant to serve as a tug in his ear.
He can't help it—Bucky laughs. "Mom," he teases right back. "That 'poor sweet boy' will be just fine." He snorted—there was nothing poor nor sweet about Steve. "The three of us are friends."
"And I'm not doubting that for a second. I'm just sayin'. Does he need to be there on the date? Does he even want to?"
"They already argued about this and the final conclusion was, apparently, that yes, he does." Bucky had to bite his lip at those bits in your last letter—even through ink and paper, he could see you and Steve as clear as daylight. "Steve and her are really good friends, Ma. She knows how much I miss him, and she claims that he's been even more annoyin' about stuff, mumbling shit—sorry, mumbling stuff about 'Bucky this' and 'Bucky that', so she ain't havin' it. Plus, it's not like the two of us can't behave. We never made Stevie feel left out."
His mother chuckled. "For some reason I find it hard to believe that you two are not the grossest thing together."
"What?!" his laughter intensifies. "You never saw us together."
"And whose fault is that, hm? Hm?" Winnie's look pierces through him as the last drops of her coffee seep to the cup, and she grabs her cup like a ninja, with eyes still glued on him and her head shaking, no need for a single glance to where her hands are going. His mother sips, and Bucky's laughter subsidies to a smile. "Well, I'm glad you she's generous enough to share ya." Her whole face softens. "Bubba's right. Steve's been missing ya a lot."
Bubba. Bucky forgets how to breathe for a single second. "Bubba?"
The name that his mother calls the girls—Bubs, Bubba, baby.
Winnie smiles behind the cup, and he's not sure if her happiness is directed at him because of how he looks, or at the whole situation. "Yes, James. The woman who's been comin' to my house for two months now, havin' almost daily cups of tea with me to talk about life and the perils of life is, to your surprise and delight, my Bubba. Are you really surprised?" Her next chuckle is as sweet as her coffee must be. "I like her. I told ya already."
"I can see that."
His mother moves to sit in the chair in front of him. "And you haven't answered my question yet, young man." She crosses her legs and offers her coffee for him to sip, which he does. Gods, this woman is a bee. He returns it with a grimace.
"Right, as I was sayin', today we're going to the Stark fair, the three of us. Eat a hot dog, be annoyin' at the square, drink a couple of beers. Then tomorrow, uh—"
"You two love birds will be together all day, yes, I can imagine."
He's thankful his mother saves him from saying the embarrassing bits, at least. "I have to go back on Monday."
"What time?"
"Thirteen hundred train."
"So there's time for breakfast?"
His smile returns. "Yeah, Ma. There's time for breakfast together."
Across the table, his smile seems to be reflected back at him. It looks a little older, with more crinkles around the corners and kissing the side of the eyes, but the same smile nonetheless. "Now I'm happy." She sips the coffee, humming in pleasure. "And what's so interesting at this fair?"
"Was that Bucky's voice?! Ma! Is Bucky here?!"
Ah, that screeching tone.
The second name he hears—Bucky.
Screamed at the top of her lungs by Rebecca, and later by a still sleepy Dorca, Bucky's greets with open arms his young rascals and spins them in the air, so lucky to have their laughter be the only sound he hears once again.
He does his best that whole morning to imprint every second spent with them like a tattoo in the malleable muscle of his brain. He wants Rebecca's slightly nasal and bossy tone to be of easy access when he's far away. He wants to not forget how long Dorca's hair is getting, or how much his mother still has control of this entire house at the tip of her fingers as if she's a powerful spider whose webs are invisible, but stronger than the eyes behold.
Before he leaves, he takes them for ice cream. Bucky asks all sorts of questions, trying to squeeze as much as he can in only a few hours, knowing that no amount of time feels enough nowadays.
Later, there's Buck.
"Hey, Buck."
It's a second homecoming.
This one, it tastes like a little bit of everything. "Hey, Stevie." The tiny frame that fits in his embrace as if it were a puzzle piece, it smells like childhood and teenage years all mushed together. "Glad to see you're in one piece."
It's a jab to the fact that his best friend and soulmate was about to get into a fight just seconds before Bucky finds him, and it was met with an ocean-cold stare. Blue meets blue, and Bucky can only laugh.
"Oh, shut up," Steve rolls his eyes. "I hate that I let them go—fucking bastards."
"Hey, hey; you can't fight 'em—"
"Can't fight 'em all, I know, punk, I know." Steve sighs, but when he looks at Bucky again, his gaze softens. Something clicks, and Steve seems to come back to himself. "You sound like Father Chase," his snorted laugh means it's Bucky's time to scoff.
"Maybe because he had a point?"
"Always did. Doesn't change the facts."
"And what are the facts?"
"The facts, Buck, are that you're a softie," before he can come up with an answer, Bucky's frame is pushed back by the force of it—Steve doesn't go for it, he lunges for another hug, body crashing against Bucky's. "'m glad you're back."
The facts must be true, if only when it came to Steve, at least. "Punk," he mutters against soft blond strands. Bucky hugs back just as hard, and they let go at the exact same time.
A single look is shared, and then they nod.
Secret conversations aren't only spilled in acronyms.
I'm glad to be back, his nod says.
While Steve's says, Now we're alright.
They were. For now, everything was alright.
"You get your orders?" Steve starts walking in the direction that Bucky's heart was tugging in—the direction of your apartment.
He follows, putting one arm around Steve's shoulders. "Sure did. The 107th. Sgt. James Barnes, shipping out on Monday for England."
"Sargeant, huh?"
Under Steve's appraising eyes, Bucky's always felt a little bit analyzed. "Yeah." No inch of him went unnoticed. "I'll do my best to take care of all of them." An artist's eye on you could be an unnerving thing.
It soothed when he smiled. "Of course you will, Buck." Often, Bucky wondered if Steve had any idea of how much power his opinion yielded. "You always do your best." A smile of his alone, and Bucky felt more approved than any superior's highest praise. "I—" he hut himself short, but Bucky knew what he swallowed down. I just wish I could help. "I'm happy for ya."
Always so good, "thank you, Steve." Not a day would go by when Bucky would let it pass the opportunity to thank god for gifting him with Steven Gran Rogers. "Now—" he looked up, seeing your building approach. "You sure she has no idea I'm here?"
Another roll of eyes—Steve could one day get cursed with the sight of his brain forever. "I'm starting to think you're spending too much time with your comrades. You forgot already who's had your six since forever?"
"Awn, Stevie—don't be jealous of my smelly, grumpy men. You'll always be my number one."
"You're ridiculous. Of course she doesn't know. Lady thinks you'll be here on the 4pm train, just like we talked about. She's probably still sleepin' 'cause of her late-night shift."
"Another one?!"
A scoff. "You try to tell Lady what to do and see how it goes. I already know my place of speakin', and it ain't that one."
"God, how on earth did I end up with the two more stubborn people to ever walk this goddamn planet? No, really—"
"Oh, because you're a beacon of flexibility."
"—you two are made from a single mold, and whoever used it on you first, and then her, saw their mistake two heartbeats too late, then broke the damn mold 'cause they knew if they made more, it'd mean world domination."
There's a single second of pause, and then Bucky turns to the amused gaze staring at him. Steve with a hand on his hip and a smirk on his face will always look the same. "You've gotten more dramatic. That's a fuckin' wonder." He turns around laughing to himself and shaking his head. "Go say 'morning' to her. I'm gonna go get tomato sauce, we ran out of it yesterday."
The implication that Steve's been hanging around more registers in all the happy places of Bucky's brain, but everything's washed away by the flood that it's the sight of it—
your window.
Bucky's entire world does the thing: it tunnels.
The same rounded, small rocks that he used on the first date still litter Mrs. Simyl's vase. He picks one, weights it in his hand, and with a heart-thumping loud in his chest, he throws it to your window.
A peck.
KNOCK
Bucky waits: one, two, three heartbeats.
He swallows the lump that rises in his throat.
The sun already rose, but it comes up again.
At least, for him.
When your head pops out in the window, Bucky swears it does.
Like a sniper's barrel, your eyes know exactly where it goes on instinct. They find him underneath your window pulled by the gravity that—with a quick check on his hummingbird of a heart, it's confirmed—still there.
North, meet South.
"Jay?"
"Hi, sweetheart."
Your face disappears, taking everything with you. The light, the warmth, the strenght in the gravitational hold of your beautiful eyes and gaze—as soon as they disappear, Bucky's spell is broken, and his feet gain life.
He knows you're rushing to your door the same way he rushes up the stairs.
He's glad the uniform stayed in his suitcase, safely tucked in his and Steve's apartment. He'd sweat from all the heat he's emmanating, and probably drench you in an ocean before he could get a single kiss.
Bucky's pulled by his North, and when he sees the familiar sight of your door, it's already swinging open.
"Oh, god." There's a breach in time. A break in the fabric of space. One moment, he's a few steps away from you, and the next thing he sees and knows, he has an arm full of you.
"Bucky."
That's him. James, Bucky, Buck, Jay. From all of his names, now's the only time when all of his cells feel slotted into place. Bucky's heard every one of his names, all the ones that matter, and now he is whole.
His voice evades him.
Inside his arms, he's aware that you're shaking, even if the notion takes a moment to register—as it should. He's shaking, too; vibrating, is more like it, because he's here, and now that he can breathe, his body seems incapable of doing so.
He inhales deeply, even if it's all trembling.
Your smell is different from any other. Bucky would recognize in a crowd of millions. He'd find it blindfolded, he was certain of it.
If they made him forget his name, Bucky would be Nobody, but even as Nobody, he would know that this is the scent of his person.
Citrine. Mint leaves. With a deeper inhale, he catches the underlying tone—vanilla. The purest and sweetest form, used in the lotion you put all over your body after showering sometimes, mixed with the unique and personal scent of just you. Vanilla has a taste on you. It's sweet, but not sticky.
It's summer.
Bucky is in love.
When the pull that holds you together seems to loosen its threads, you and Bucky pull back at the same time.
Not too far—neither one is able to go further than millimeters for now, and in the back of his mind, he's thankful that Steve gave the two of you the time you needed.
Just like he and Steve clung to each other like a lifeline for embarrassing minutes that neither one chose to talk about, you two are roped together, and going too far is impossible for now.
The only space is a breath of air separating your heads.
Bucky pulls an arm up, crowding your head inside his forearm. His palm spreads on the top of your head, holding you there.
His eyes find yours, swimming and spilling over.
Your lips tremble when you speak. "You told me you were getting here later," he feels your hand making fists out of his white shirt, resting on the curve of his lower back. After a sniffle, you add, "'m gonna kill you and Blondie," and then, you nuzzle your nose on his.
He laughs. Bucky truly is home. "He was just followin' my orders, lil' witch. No killing, please."
"You two planned behind my back," you go on, sounding small and choked still. His crybaby that never cried before.
Bucky's arm cage around your head got a little tighter, and his arm around your waist pulled you impossibly closer. "Don't cry," he pleaded in a whisper. "It was to surprise ya."
He thinks you're beautiful even with wet, rosy cheeks. "I'm surprised," your laugh came out choked, and you sniffled again. Bucky accepted the tears despite how much his hand itched to wipe them away, and clean your cheeks. Lower, and softer, so much softer than he was used to hearing any voice, you say, "You're actually here..."
The awe in your voice is a sentiment he can understand. "I am."
"I'm not dreaming."
His forehead stays touching yours as he shakes his head, and while it's an uncomfortable angle, but he likes it for now. "No. Seems neither am I." It's the closeness his heart aches for, and achieving it soothes the wrinkles in his soul.
You, on the other hand, seem to need a better angle—your head pulls back against his head, gaining a couple more inches of distance, and his body moves along with yours.
When you're far enough to look at his whole face, Bucky's breath is sucked out of his body.
He's here.
"I missed you, Jay."
And so are you.
Bucky smiles and dives.
Your eyes are closed, lips waiting for his.
If angels sing, this is it. Angels, a choir, or maybe just the white noise of his head subduing, opening up space for this—your lips on his are a single drop falling in a pond, creating ripples until the surface is a still mirror.
Neither one of you moves too much. There isn't back and forth, or any deepening of the kiss. On the contrary.
It is what it is.
A sweet sound of hello. A press of lips, two pieces meeting together, fitting in as one.
When the air he stored runs out and Bucky gasps in your lips, he hears your pleased hum.
You smile, breathing in through your nose. "'m so happy," you inform him.
Bucky laughs. He breathes out, and kisses you again, but messier this time. Rougher. He wants to taste your tongue, wants your oxygen in his veins. He nibbles, bites, sucks on your lips; Bucky finally gets his tongue intertwining with yours, walks you back inside your place, and closes the door with his foot even if somewhere in the back of his mind, he's aware that Steve will come passing by any minute now.
The kiss is enough for now.
A single taste—a sip of a galleon he'll drink whole later tonight, bathe himself, drown in; Bucky pulls back and is pleased to note how pink you look and the puffiness in your lips.
You two exist in silence for a moment, just breathing each other in, and then,
"You ready for a day with Stevie and I?" he asks.
Your smile is enough of an answer. "Where's Blondie?"
"Probably comin' right up."
"'Kay. Cool." You press your lips on his again, melting and humming softly; all the little sounds he's missed. The hums, and ahs you make when melting in his arms that he's taking back to the base with him. "'m gonna change."
"Cool. Let's go."
Your laughter as well—he's pocketing that, and keeping it close to his heart. "That wasn't an invite."
"Was it not? Damn, I could've sworn it was, miss. My bad."
"D'you think I can get any 'changing' done with you in the room?"
Although the question is asked amidst laughter, you seem okay with Bucky glued on your back and stepping where you do, channeling his inner cat. "I have no clue. We'll figure it out."
"And if Steve arrives?"
A cackle from him—you're the witch, but Bucky laughs like one at that joke. "I'm sure your new best friend can find himself just fine in your house. Wasn't he here last night?"
"How d'you know that?"
"He said you two ran out of tomato sauce. He went to get some to cook lunch for us."
"You mean for you to cook lunch for us. We're just sittin' there lookin' pretty and talking your ear off."
"Sweetheart, that sounds marvelous to me."
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True as he said to his mother, there is no third-wheeling or chaperoning.
In the same kitchen as his two favorite people, Bucky has one of the loveliest afternoons of his entire life. In fact, his Saturday is so good that Bucky marks the date in the calendar in his mind — the 24th of July — as some special daybreak.
He fits right in. Between the jokes that you and Steve now share and he has no idea what the roots of them are, next to your attentive, hawk-like eyes that never seem to leave him, snuggled by the much smaller frame of a friend who still looks up to him as someone good.
It's a pity that Bucky has no superpowers.
He would fit an entire month right there, in the afternoon reserved for the three of you.
By the time the sun is setting down and you three feel the need to clean up for the exhibition, the trio has already covered every base:
The military. Family. Neighbors (both the annoying as well as the good ones). Steve's stubbornness, and then yours. England. Bucky's squadron, with the specifics of each man he claimed to like.
Bucky laughed. He sobered up—those coal, slimy tentacles of war tried sneaking their way to the front.
Impossible to be done with you and Steve present.
When Bucky comments about separating — 'Steve and I can go to the apartment to get ready then come pick you up, whatcha say?' — he gets the same attitude from both.
"Why would I go stay alone at my place?" you ask.
Steve nods along. "Just wait here 'till she picks up her overnight bag and she'll come with us."
"Yeah. Steve never takes longer than ten minutes to get ready, anyway."
"True. I say Lady and I will be ready before you are," Steve adds with a knowing smile.
You laugh with him. "Oh—that's for sure."
"Hey!" Bucky loves to see you two teaming up. It's the kind of thing he'd like to see forever if he has any say in it. "I don't take that long."
To that, he hears many arguments.
"Oh my god, who is he talking to?" you ask, turning your gaze to Steve.
"I don't know. He's actin' like we don't know him," Steve snorts.
"It's crazy. Did he forget the times we had to wait for him?"
"Many times."
You glance back at Bucky, all smiles and daring. "You think you can hurry up tonight, princess?"
It does something to him. He hates that it does—and he sees and hears it in Steve's laugh that it's obvious, too, that the stupid teasing nickname pulls a string or two of his, and he huffs away from you both. "Ungrateful duo of firecrackers, I swear to god."
"Oh, c'mon!" it's you, rushing to catch up to him, laughing the same as Steve.
"Yeah, c'mon—"
"Don't you dare, Steven," he cuts him off before he can use it too, and it gets only more laughter.
"You didn't answer her question, you know," Steve comments when he catches up to Bucky and you.
He rolls his eyes. "I'll speed up. 's not like I have to look my best—not when you two aren't doing anythin' to deserve it."
"Damn, Jay. Not even a little bit of cologne for me?" you pout.
The gall. The audacity. He huffs and puffs, and turns his eyes away from you. "I'll think about it." He's a joke. Bucky's going to spend at least triple the time in the bathroom, but it's okay, because he'll come out to you and Steve waiting for him.
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"Welcome to the Modern Marvels Pavilion and the World of Tomorrow!"
In his uniform, Bucky feels oddly in place.
He's pulled by the sleeves by either you, or Steve. "C'mon, c'mon, Buck, it's starting!" you squeal.
Willing and pliant, that's his role for the whole night. With a smile plastered on his face, and a giddiness he hasn't felt since he was a kid. Not that he was ever this happy in his childhood—this is a new, shinier form of happiness.
It happens because he's in the right place. With the right people.
Also, he paid very close attention to your eyes when he left the bathroom an hour ago.
When Bucky saw that glint, a very familiar one to him, his body responded. He felt your gaze on him. On his uniform. The tension that for a second became almost like humidity in the air, it hung for a few seconds, and it made Steve go to the kitchen with yet another roll of his eyes.
"I'm... gonna go drink a glass of water. You two—yikes. Be quick. The eye fucking is gross."
"Such a gentleman, Steve," you joked, but the lack of eye contact with him kind of ruined it for you.
Bucky approached you, walking in slow and deliberate steps. He allowed you to look at every inch. Feeling it was good, too—your eyes ranking up and down his body was almost a physical touch, and it made the soft spreading of your palm on his chest warmer.
"You look..." the words left you, leaving your lips parted and pink. "Very nice."
Not often did Bucky feel bashful. "Thanks, sweetheart." A rare gem such as this needed to be polished, even if it was perfect in its raw form. Bucky leaned in closer, barely containing his smile, and with his mouth nearing your ears, he whispered. "I have a feeling it's not my hair and my perfume that you like."
The intake of your breath was loud from this proximity. "Jay..."
That whisper alone was enough for him. He whispered your name back and kissed your temple with a smile. "Save all of those thoughts for later, 'kay? All of 'em. I wanna hear everything that's goin' around on that pretty head of yours."
Breathless, you whispered, "'kay'," and then nuzzled your face against his neck before pulling away. The flush was high on your cheeks. Redder than before, and due to more than just makeup. "You really do look handsome," that whisper made his insides tangle, and he enjoyed it.
"'m glad you think so."
That part was only forgotten when he saw the automobiles.
Even if Steve hid it better than you and Bucky, the reality hit you three all the same. Three nerds in a science fairy served for more than entertainment; it meant a night to be remembered.
Bucky gets lost in hours of conversation.
You three see everything. Even the dance floor is forsaken in the name of reading about stuff, theorizing about what is left out of the exposition, and laughing with each other as the ideas that bounce between you three get wilder each time.
It's almost midnight when you three make your way to the apartment.
Bucky is in a tipsy state. Steve—well, his tolerance is not the best, and mixing sugar with alcohol is a bad idea. It's all good though, because you hate the taste of it, and walking between the two of them like a beacon of balance and normalcy is a thing you did before.
Steve's hand hooks through your shoulder, into Bucky's nape.
He talks about the war. The human condition—Mrs. Georgia, from downstairs.
"She's been cryin' every night or two. It's—sad. Loud. God, I'm so glad I'm gonna black out tonight."
Bucky ends up taking off Steve's shoes while you tuck his sleeping body into bed.
He looks up at you, and sees the strand of your hairstyle escaping the pins, framing your face into something more suited for the faint yellow lights of late-night times and the Moonlight outside. "At least he waited 'till he was home," Bucky reasons.
You smile at him. "At least he didn't puke."
"Touché."
Once Steve Rogers is safe and sound, you turn your body to Bucky, both hands placed on your hips.
Here it comes, thinks Bucky...
"Safe and sound."
He smiles. "That he is." Bucky knew he'd be. It wasn't his first time hearing this.
He extends one hand in the air and is delighted when you catch it.
"Let's go?"
It's barely a whisper.
You nod at him, fitting your body under one of his arms as you walk out of the room. In the quiet magnitude of this hour into the night, you whisper, "I should've let you buy me cotton candy."
Bucky closes the door of the room holding back his laughter. "I'll make you scrambled eggs when we get to the hotel."
"Will you?"
"I will."
"I don't know if I trust your tipsy self to a stove."
Bucky groaned, pulling you even closer to him to bury his nose into your hair. "I'll be a hundred percent by the time we make it there."
The conversation goes on in hushed whispers as you two walk, ignoring all the other rare figures you see walking in the streets too, not on purpose—on the fact that it's a new world, already.
As soon as the apartment door was locked behind him, Bucky's world shifted in its axis; everything becomes you.
He's barely aware of what he's answering.
The only thing he knows it's that you're teasing him—he pays attention to the blush he sees forming on your cheeks once you feel his gaze so locked on your lips. He laughs under his breath when you stutter, and then laughs harder when you poke him in the ribs for laughing in the first place.
He feels how warm you are despite how chill the night has become.
Inside his jacket—his uniform, you've found heat.
The hotel room he located for the night is not far from your house itself, and it's one of the most decent ones still inside his budget. Rooms that are nice and clean, plus a decent breakfast.
It was far from what you deserved, but Bucky had years of work ahead of him before he was able to afford that.
When he enters, you take a little spin around.
Bucky puts both yours and his duffel bags on the floor.
He lets you walk around, and take your heels off, his eyes following you.
When they finally land on him, Bucky can almost see the air that stands between you.
Your voice is as low as a whisper. He hears it loud and clear in the deep quiet of the night. "You're not gonna cook for me, are you?"
He's kicking his shoes off as he shakes his head.
Bucky's eyes are so attentive, that he catches the shivers that run through you.
"Tomorrow," he promises.
Your fingers graze the long sleeve of the dress until it hooks on the shoulder pad, but Bucky hums negatively.
The movement stops.
He takes his steps until he's an inch away from you, and breathes in deeply.
"'m pretty sure that's my job."
It was. One of the best parts of it, now that Bucky paid close attention to it. His hands removed the fabric from your skin, exposing it to the light entering the room through the window, and in those moments, Bucky managed to fit in hours.
Every inch of you being exposed to him, it was like he painted it somewhere in his mind, guarding that canvas in a special slide of his subconscious.
When all your clothes were on the floor, he continued his ministrations of sewing all your measurements to memory.
Bucky's hands — palm spread flat, his fingertips, his knuckles — made work of you, while you removed his clothes in return.
Once naked, he could pass on to the next stage:
"Wanna remember how you taste, sweetheart."
The shaky gasp you let out when his words met your ear was too fast for him to catch, but everything else that followed fell into Bucky's lips.
They were wide, hand-made nets, built only for one purpose: to fish every part of you that was delectable.
Bucky started with close-mouthed kisses and ended up almost devouring you. Swallowing you whole.
There were hours between that first and last stage, though.
At first, everything was slow.
Bucky had been so preoccupied back at the base with whether the first time you two fucked would be the same as the ones from before or not, that he missed the entire point.
It had always been great. The connection between you two always started with more than just physical, and when it got to that point, you two were already lost in each other.
This was immersion.
Hearing your tender, then groaned, and later broken moans of "Jay" counted as his sea.
Your eager touches were current, guiding him in.
This was far from fucking. There was nothing crude about the first time—there was only love.
Bucky never made love before, but he understood why not when your body unfolded in front of him. When your legs open wide and everything blossoms, Bucky has full comprehension of what a feeling can do to two people.
Not just any feeling. This.
Bucky's a drunk man.
It's only his grace that you're as far gone as him. As Dionysus blessed—when Bucky's fingers intertwine with yours to replace your fisted hands in the sheets with his own instead, Bucky's gaze catches yours.
He sees the warm and inviting openness of black in your eyes.
Bucky kisses and leaves his feeling all over his path.
As overwhelming as it is, making love is also beautiful. This type of surrender required a level of trust and blinded faith that he's not sure he even had before, but he finds it right there, in bed with you.
The first time is slow.
Both of you taking your time to marvel at how in sync you are—to marvel at how wet one makes the other, and how unashamed both of you feel in touching each and every part.
He's never had anyone touching him the way you do. Bucky gets your lips leaving prints from his face, his chest, arms, and legs, all the way to the curve above his ass.
As he opens you up with his fingers, Bucky keeps watching all the emotions passing through your face.
The first time you make love, in gentle, long, and agonizing steps.
When he pushes inside at last, he can almost swear he hears violins.
Or maybe it's your nails digging at his back—your pained, blissed whines. "Jay."
He's whining, too—your name spills from his lips as much as air does, and you two move not to reach an end, but to feel what is connecting you at that exact time.
When the words leave his lips, Bucky can see them traveling in the air before being sucked in by yours. "I love you, sweetheart."
Out of his lips, into thick, warm air, and falling...
You gasp, closing your eyes for a moment, and Bucky tastes your tears when he's gifted back with, "I love you too, James." It makes him smile, shaking from head to toe like a leaf. "I truly do."
"I know. I feel it."
"It w-was never like—like this. Never before."
An understatement, if he ever heard one. Bucky could feel your heartbeat as if it was his own; it was more than just his cock buried to the hilt inside of your warm cunt, feeling every construction and high of your pleasure, or the vibrations of your moans and the pleas for his name that seemed to reverberate all through his being—
"This—" he bucked his hips harder, just to feel the waves of pleasure cursing through you, and laughed with his lips ghosting your mouth. "This is—oh—it's making love, sweetheart."
"Jay!"
Bucky was unsure of how long it lasted.
Could've been hours, or just a few, blissful minutes.
From the thick layer of sweat that covered your bodies by the time you both came undone, his guess tips more towards the first.
It's almost like seeing a visible thread being cut—when the orgasms hit your bodies, one right after the other, Bucky collapses his back in the bed, carrying your body along with him.
That's where you two stay, for a few moments longer.
"Were we whispering?" you ask.
He likes when your lips are on his skin. They're warm, and he has their shape memorized now. "I think we were." If he was a better artist, he'd draw them. "D'you want me to cook for you now?" he asks with a chuckle.
You tilt your head up, take a second to think it over, then answer with a simple smile.
So Bucky cooks.
He slaps your hand when you try putting on his white t-shirt laying on the ground, commenting, "No need for that at all, c'mon'," and watches with the same pleased and hungry eyes as you stay leaning on the wall as he uses the small stove for a quick meal.
After that, there are other times.
There's the desperate round, and there's the fucking, and the unexpected, and the lazy, 'we're too tired to move but still horny enough for this' moment where he just lays in bed with his hands between your legs, touching your pussy even if he's not actively doing anything.
Bucky washes you with careful hands and a lot of tenderness in the shower, running the cloth and the soap through your marked, sensitive skin as slowly as his sleepiness allows.
"We're gonna have a good day today," you tell him.
Given the whispering tone and slurred words, Bucky assumes you're almost sleeping, too. "Yup. All day to ourselves. Dinner with Steve. Come back here to sleep well."
"I love you, James."
Bucky would never get tired of hearing those words in your voice. He pulls your body close, kissing even if he'll taste soap and warm water. "I love you more." He whispers your name, kisses you again, and turns off the shower head before cold water sprays on his perfect day.
Nothing about today is cold.
Bucky's warm. While you may carry the elegance and magic of the Moon, you're his Sun.
His North, and his Sun, which would always guide him home, for hot and perfect days like this that remind him of why it's good to be alive and to feel all of this love.
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Soulmate- B.Barnes
Summary: Bucky gets introduced to Sam’s childhood best friend, he finally feels love and looks forward to thee future for the first time in over 80 years.
Pairings: Bucky x Fem!Reader, Sam x Platonic!Reader
Fic Warnings: brief mentions of Bucky’s time in Wakanda, brief mention of the Flag Smashers, brief mention of the blip, fem!reader, use of y/n(IDK if thats a warning but it’s here)
Author’s Notes: This is the first fic I’ve written in ages and this is also my first Bucky fic. I hope this was good and feedback is welcome. When I was writing this I was thinking of the song Soulmate by Mac Miller, I don’t listen to many love songs but this is the only one I thought of.
My full Masterlist
Word Count: 1437
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gif not mine
It was safe to say that James Buchanan Barnes didn’t have a very easy life. He got drafted for the war at 25, got taken as a prisoner of war, was forced to take Hydra’s super soldier serum, he was rescued by his lifetime best friend Steve, only to fall off of a train a few years later, lost an arm and taken as an experiment for Hydra. The man had a hard life, he was an asset to Hydra for 80 years and he wasn’t free from Hydra completely until the Wakandans stepped in to help. After the blip, he only had his best friend for a week or so until he was gone again and left to navigate the 21st century by himself.
Bucky was never one to believe that love or even companionship was something he’d obtain. When he met y/n, he felt as if a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Sure, she was shy and quiet, typically kept to herself, but she was sweet, kind and caring. She was the most selfless person he had ever met in his life. They had met in a time that Bucky needed somebody the most. After the Flag Smashers debacle, Sam had introduced him to his childhood best friend.
At first, Bucky was wary, he wasn’t quick to trust people, but he was infatuated with this woman. Sam had spoken about her before and so had Steve oddly enough. He can remember Steve speaking fondly about her, how she was like a breath of fresh air from all of this superhero nonsense. 
Bucky and y/n were friends for a good while before anything actually happened, the two of them slightly nervous to make a move on the other. They lived together for a good amount of time, dancing around their feelings for each other. They even got a cat together after Bucky’s new therapist suggested it. His new therapist even suggested that he step away from fighting for a while and to focus on himself, making friends and nurturing his current friendships. Creating a routine and sticking to it.
His routine was a simple one, he wake up every morning at 5:00, made him and y/n breakfast, feed Alpine, go for a jog, come home, take a shower, make lunch, every once in a while he would drop by y/n’s work and eat lunch with her, he’d catch up on some shows and movies that she and Sam recommended, then the rest of his day he’d just do random things around the apartment until she got home then spend the rest of his day with her and Alpine. 
y/n was the one that came up with the idea of having lunch together when she was at work. It was about a month into them living together and Bucky had just gotten his routine down. “Hey B, you know you can visit me and we can have lunch together, whenever you want to. The main office already knows to send you to me if you ever drop by.” And ever since then, Bucky would visit her at least twice a week, always bringing a homemade lunch and a recap of his day.
The last time he visited her, a few of her students were lingering in the room. He lingered in the doorway for a minute until she took notice of him. “Bubs! Come sit! We were just talking about you and Sam,” She had a big grin on her face, her y/c eyes sparkling in the fluorescent lights. 
“Hey beautiful! I didn’t want to interrupt, it seemed like a good conversation was happening in here,” Bucky walked further into the classroom, sitting in the chair next to her, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of her head.
“Mr.Barnes, what was it like being a part of the Avengers?” One of her students asked excitedly.
“I was never an official Avenger, but it was a lot of pressure. I’m happy to be getting a much needed break.”
“I’m happy you’re talking this break, poor bubs, you worked yourself half to death. Sam said you were extra grumpy,” She said in a teasing tone. Bucky rolled his eyes playfully before plopping her lunch in front of her. “You made my favorite! Bubs, that’s so sweet!”
“Only for my best girl. I can see the three of you practically bursting over there. Ask your questions.” The three students bombarded him with questions, all of which he answered to the best of his ability. y/n ate her lunch and listened to how Bucky willingly answered all of her students’ questions. Every once in a while, she would chime in when she could. Then Bucky decided to flip the conversation and started asking the students questions.
“What’s this one making you guys do? Read crappy books and look at stupid things as symbols?” Bucky asked as a joke.
“Hey! That was mean, Buck,” y/n pouted, making him chuckle. He planted a chaste kiss on her pouted lip causing her students to jokingly gag. Bucky turned his attention back to the students to listen to their answers.
“I mean, there really isn’t a set curriculum in our school so the teachers make it. We’re doing fantasy right now so we’re reading The Hobbit. We aren’t going too heavy into symbolism, thank God.” This got Bucky on a long tangent about how it was the best book he read when he was younger. How he used to read it to Steve when he was stuck in bed and how he used to read to his younger siblings all the time. The small group that had gathered only grew when somehow most of y/n’s students found out that Bucky was in the building.
Since her students were so intrigued by Bucky, she set up a little project for the AP Literature and Journalism students. With his okay of course, Bucky was going to come to the school after hours and answer questions that he was comfortable answering for the students. Their project was to write a paper or an article on Bucky. Since more students showed interest, they opened it to the whole school, however only the Journalism and AP Lit students were allowed to ask questions.
The night it was set for, Bucky was nervous, he was about to go up in front of a lot of teenagers and answer questions that were thrown at him. y/n was right next to him, trying to relax him. “Baby, if you want to postpone this or cancel it we can. No problem. Whatever you need I can get it for you,” she offered him. 
“I just need you with me. As much as it pains me to say this, is Sam still in town?” Luckily for him, Sam was still in town and came to the school to be up on the auditorium stage with y/n and Bucky. With the two of them at his side, Bucky was more relaxed, if he needed a little comfort, he had his closest friend on one side and his soulmate on the other.
“Hi everyone! Tonight our AP Literature and Journalism students are interviewing World War Two veteran, Hydra survivor, and my wonderful boyfriend, James Bucky Barnes. I do want to disclose a few things before we start. Bucky is very nervous so I will be beside him as well as an unexpected but welcomed guest. I did warn the students as well as Bucky that any question he is not comfortable answering, he can either pass off to me if I can answer it or he can simply leave the question unanswered. Now please, give a very warm welcome to Bucky Barnes and our wonderful Captain America and my very best friend, Sam Wilson!”
Bucky nearly stayed backstage but when he saw her standing under the stage lights, creating the illusion of a halo on top of her head, her warm smile and soft eyes reserved only for him, his feet decided to move towards her. As he walked towards her, his mind was racing with the thought of growing old with her, having a family and finally being a normal man with a metal arm. Instead of his usual scowl across his face, he had a wide smile that was previously only shown to y/n, but now Sam and at least 100 teenagers. He was finally happy and looking forward to his future with this beautiful woman in front of him, who would always be there for him no matter the time of day or the situation. He felt loved.
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lovebugspots · 8 months
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How crazy can one man be?
For preface, the reader has the ability over nature. So things like plants, water, growth, healing, light are her powers. Think of a Fairy, and how Maleficent has that like golden dust.
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It was normal to be chased out by a crazed man because of being a mutant, mostly… But what was not normal, was getting chased by two super soldiers, widow, and a bird-like human? No idea.
The not-so young mutant saw them, and sprinted off when the group of heroes started chasing her, little did they know, they got the wrong mutant.
11:26 AM. June 13th.
Y/n was trying to have a somewhat nice day. Just trying to get her weekly shopping done, getting groceries, some new books, new cleaning products and laundry. But before she even got into the local grocery store she heard loud footsteps.
She turned around and saw the group of men and one woman all staring at her. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rodgers, Sam Wilson, and Natasha Romanoff. “Earths Mightiest Heroes”.
Y/n knew better then to run, usually.
But this wasn’t the case, Barnes started chasing her so quickly she ran and she heard his rough voice bark out.
“Get back here!”
“I’ll pass!”
She screamed back and started running as fast as she could, adrenaline pumping through her blood as her heart beat quickens.
She pumped her arms and her legs as she dodged the poor men and woman just trying to shop.
“Sorry! Oh shit! Sorry kid!”
She yelled apologetically as she body slammed a kid on accident…She looked back and saw that all of them started chasing her while The Falcon was sin the sky. So, in the heat of the moment she created a bomb out of her magic golden glitter, and threw it up.
“What the fuck?!”
Sam yelled as he descended from the sky, slamming down on the top of the building. He definitely now had a few broken ribs.
Y/n kept running, and unsurprisingly, the only person left running was Bucky. He still yelled for her to stop, but she didn’t. The adrenaline was starting to wear off as she got tired, her lungs hurting and sweat stuck to her skin. Her clothes now felt sticky, and gross.
Bucky to advantage of that and ran up to her and jumped on her, pinning her to the ground.
“Ma’am you are arrested for- oh shit.”
His beautiful steel blue eyes, they now were filled of regret. His pupils small and he got off of her.
“Oh my god…I-I am so, so, sorry. We thought you were…someone else…”
He professed, he got off of her, he helped her up. Y/n…wasn’t happy…
“Excuse me?”
Y/e/c was filled with unadulterated rage, he thinks that he can just say ‘I’m sorry for chasing you even though you aren’t the right person’ and she would accept?
“Did you say ‘wrong person?’”
She spat out and puts her hands on her hips. He grimaced and nodded, he wasn’t happy either, he was ashamed.
“I-I did-“
She cut him off quickly, and seethed out bitterly.
“So are the Avengers after mutants as well?”
She rolled her eyes and scoffed and she backed away from him, but her shakes his head and said softly.
“No not at all! I-I though, I mean, we, thought you were Mystique…”
Y/n’s eyes soften at that name, an old friend of hers, Raven.
“Raven?”
“Yes! You know her?”
“Of course…her death was impacting to all.”
Bucky’s eyes widen, his lips parted but he stammered out…
“Death..? She…died?”
Y/n nodded, she walked up to him and said.
“1992, Jean killed her.”
All Bucky could do was nod, he bit his lip and looked up at her. She sighed and asked delicately.
“Why are you after her?”
Bucky sighed, it was private S.H.E.I.L.D information. But she deserved to know.
“There have been reports about a shapeshifter, and the only person we could point to was her…”
He paused then continues softly.
“But her death isn’t in the system?”
Y/n nodded and answered.
“Xavier said nothing, so mutants wouldn’t get more hate then we already do…”
Bucky sighed and nodded, understanding her words. He stood up fully and puts his flesh hand (his right) out to shake with hers.
“I’m sorry about that. But I’m James, James Buchanan Barnes. But call me Bucky.”
He expressed, giving a beautiful smile…a smile that gave Y/n butterflies. She shakes the feeling off and puts her hand in his.
“Y/n Máxima, just call me Y/n.”
She smiles softly, shaking his hand.
Little did she know, he had the butterflies too. Except it was the ones where he wanted to puke from how harsh they were.
“What a beautiful name…”
He mumbled softly and takes his hand away, and he added softly.
“Hopefully I see you in the near future, Mrs. Máxima…”
She immediately missed his warm, and calloused hand. But all she did was smile and said.
“You will, I assure you of it.”
She looked around and when she looked back at him…he was gone.
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Hii this is my first work, not the best, but it was on my phone and I am way better with a computer. I will definitely make a part two when I’m not busy <3
And I will take requests, and such. I can do other MCU characters but I am in the process on working on my blog. So please be patient. :)
Much love-
Ry 🩵
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softevnstan · 1 year
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³.⍭ 𝐈𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞
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pairing. bucky barnes x gender netural!reader
summary. you couldn't believe the name that graced the file on your desk for your new patient. james 'bucky' barnes. you'd heard of him - even studied some of his history during college for psychology classes. never would you have imagined he'd be sent to your office, looking for help.
a.n. yeahhh i couldn't do this as just a one time thing. this is going to be a multi-part i write to update every now and again. so for today you have crumbs of what your first session is like. as someone who's been diagnosed with c-ptsd and has a butt-load of trauma, i'm writing bucky's experience in therapy based on my own. that being said i do not condone patient/therapist irl or any of that power balance outside of fiction. gross. that's the only disclaimer for this series tho going forward, i'm not gonna tag that everytime.
edit. part two is here yall
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“So, Mr. Barnes, from what I’m understanding, you'd like to make me your primary therapist and discontinue working with Doctor Raynor?” Perhaps if you knew you’d be in this situation, you would’ve mentally prepared yourself a little better for the day when you got up out of bed that morning.
Being a therapist certainly wasn’t without its obstacles, no – It’s a lot to listen to someone else’s problems and just how many callus and evil things happen in the world. It also has its moments where it reminds you just how vile people can be, too. From children all the way to elderly, you’ve seen countless patients. They come back because you’re passionate about your job; Not looking at these people as paychecks but as living, breathing people. And sometimes people just need someone to talk to; there’s no shame in that.
You just never anticipated you’d have a war hero on your office couch, though. That was not on the radar when you were working towards your Master’s Degree. 
James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes sat across from your beige and brown striped armchair on the couch. He looked lonely in the middle; For a man so broad, it would be impressive how small he could make himself if not for the fact it was simultaneously heart wrenching. Cobalt eyes struggled to meet your gaze from the moment he walked into the office to begin the session. His body looked awfully stiff, and his eyes dark like he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in weeks. Perhaps months.
“Yes.” He answers stiffly, “Please.” At least he’s sure to mind his manners despite the clear discomfort radiating from the soldier across from you. But his quiet and taut demeanor is discouraging: “It’s important that you are comfortable here, Mr. Barnes. Therapy is something that works best when it doesn’t feel forced…” “I am comfortable,” Bucky jumps to correct, earning a slight raise of a brow from you before schooling your expression once more. “Comfortable enough. I’m just new to… this.” The man makes a vague gesture with his hands between the both of you; Aching eyes speaking more than words ever will when Bucky briefly raises them to look at you.
The first step is wanting to heal. Bucky’s already showing initiative by being present - by putting his foot forward to try to find a therapist better suited to him rather than just throwing his hands up after the first dead end. That’s good. You can work with that. 
Your lips curl into a soft, welcoming smile. “Change can be scary, especially when we don’t understand what all is changing or what could come from it. With us working together, though, I can only do as much as you let me. It’s going to be intimidating, and you may not like it, but I want to help you feel better, Mr. Barnes. You deserve to feel better.” Positive reinforcements are always a good thing so long as they’re not condescending or passive aggressive. It’s all in the delivery, you’ve learned. It’s important patients feel comfortable when they’re with you – how else are they expected to be honest, then?
Bucky looks quizzically for a few moments before once more averting his anxious gaze. It made your heart hurt to see a man so beaten down and on edge; it felt so obvious to you, but then again, you were educated on how to find the tells. You could read him like a book right then. Feel everything radiating off of him, almost.
“What kind of things will you do..?” Bucky inquires after a beat.
“Well, I’d like you to start keeping a journal that we could use for our sessions. It’ll help you keep a record of what you’re feeling and we could use it like a workbook – there’d be homework involved, but there’d be nothing I know you can’t handle.”
“Homework?”
You smile, a nod of your head: “Work sheets, sometimes I’ll ask you to read something for me or answer a few questions, sometimes I’ll give you a worksheet you can use when necessary – then the next time I see you, we’ll go over what you’ve brought back and assess together so I can help you understand.”
He’s tentative to the idea, you can see it. It’s clear Bucky is very selective and reserved. You can only imagine how much strife this poor man has been through. But you see the light in him. You do. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to get better.
“...I don’t want to be unhappy anymore,” Bucky says, almost not catching the words if not for the fact the room is silent except for the two of you. “I can help you, Bucky,” you assure him, voice sincere. “We just need to work together and let me give you the tools to be happy. Do you think you can do that for me, Mr. Barnes?”
It’s clear your words seem to rock Bucky in some way, because he looks at you with something that almost resembles shock. As if he’s never heard anyone say something like that to him, has never wanted to help him become himself again. And if his experiences with Raynor is anything to base off of, Bucky needs a proper support system and someone who’s there with his best interest in mind. You can be that for him - even if it is your job irregardless. 
He’s silent, eyes darting away and breaking the brief moment of eye contact between the both of you. Then, a nod.
“I can try.” it might as well be a promise.
“That’s all I’ll ever ask of you.”
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problematicbastards · 2 years
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Steve smiled. “Rinse and repeat.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy. Times had changed and things were different, and now they could be together. “We should go. Sam’s waiting on us.” SWORD had wanted to send them into Westview to help with the Hex, hoping other Avengers would be helpful. He kissed Bucky on the cheek. “You ready?”- Steve Rogers anon
Bucky rolled his eyes at the comment of Sam waiting on them, he'd say they were too slow either way. He didn't stand up right away and instead reached up to put his right hand on Steve's cheek, leaning in for a full kiss before standing up and offering the hand to Steve. "I guess we should probably go before he decides to come find us himself." And before Wanda got herself into more trouble than whatever she was already in.
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