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nickfowlerrr · 8 months

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keeping secrets - chapter seven

series masterlist / chapter eight

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pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader (dark!soulmate au)

warnings: short chapter. no explicit smut but it’s there a lil bit. +18 only, as always. a lot of this is from bucky’s pov. angst with a hint of fluff. mostly angst though. and this isn’t even the tip of the iceberg for these two 🥲

words: 1.9k

notes: i’m belaboring it, i’m sorry lol but thank you for bearing with me through my bouts of writers block. i appreciate all of you who are following this series and reading and commenting and reblogging, you’re all wonderful and i love you. hopefully this will help kick me back into gear. please let me know what you think, and again, thank you for reading and reblogging. 🖤

It’s still dark outside when Bucky jerks awake again in a cold sweat.

His heart is racing and his breathing is heavy.

He takes a second to collect himself before he peeks up to the bed from where he lays on the ground. He runs a hand through his hair as he calms down at just the sight of you, still sleeping peacefully, sprawled out on the mattress you’d both fallen asleep on just a few hours ago.

He’d woken up earlier from another nightmare, not one of the usual ones, but the one that’s been recurring more and more frequently since the day he’d met you..

No matter how he tries to change the dream, it always ends the same.

Nothing but hurt, pain, and tears.

He tries so hard to change it, wants nothing more than to save you from the inevitable heartbreak that waits for you both, but it’s futile.

Pointless.

It’s his fate, and by some sick twist of it, you’ve unfortunately found yourself tied to him, which can only mean the same for you.

But the nightmare isn’t reality, he tells himself. It may be unchanging in the dream, but he can’t let that happen in his waking life.

He won’t.

He spent a good ten minutes just holding you in his arms, watching the rise and fall of your chest with each breath you took as your lashes fluttered in your sleep and you nuzzled into his embrace, before he gently moved you off of him. He wanted to commit the sight of you so at ease to his memory, taking in your every feature and letting himself indulge in the feeling of your softness pressed against him. In that moment, he told himself he could never have you so close to him again. The list of reasons why seemed never ending.

And though being with you earlier was incredible, words he couldn’t manage to find to describe the perfection that was you and the deep intimacy you shared - something he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before - something he’s sure he’ll never feel with anyone else, he knows he can’t do this. Not to you.

You deserve the world. A happy ending. And he wishes so badly that he could be the one to give it to you - no matter how selfish the desire is - but he can’t.

A happy ending has never been in the cards for him.

And he won’t keep that from you.

Still, that selfish itch is there, clawing at his chest and filling his head with impossible fantasies.

As he sits there, he wonders, though, just how long he’ll be able to keep away from you - even just physically. Your touch alone.. It’s indescribable.

He wishes he could let himself be next to you right now.

He counted himself lucky for not having woken you up after the first nightmare, but couldn’t risk it happening again. He had moved to the floor and listened to the steady sound of your heartbeat to ease him until he eventually fell asleep again.

Until now.

This nightmare, thankfully, wasn’t involving you.

It was the cold.

That chair.

Those words.

The excruciating, violent pain.

He’s glad he moved, there’s no way you wouldn’t have felt his twitching in his sleep if he was still next to you.

No way you would’ve had the dream to begin with if you were still next to her.

His brows furrow as he grows agitated at the thought. He gives it no further attention, though, as he sits up.

Maybe it’s early enough to excuse being awake, he thinks as he pulls himself off the floor.

He looks over at you once again and his heart clenches, wanting him to just crawl back into bed with you and sleep until you decide it’s time to get up.

But he can’t listen.

So he heads quietly out into the cold of the cabin and goes to find his phone.

—-

The bed is cold when you wake up. The cabin is quiet. Only one thought is on your mind as you come to consciousness.

Where is Bucky?

There’s a tight squeeze in your chest as you take in your loneliness. A surge of anxiety that grips you though you try not to give it attention. You sit up and look around the empty room.

You get up and peek out the door, down the hallway.

You head to the bathroom instead of seeking him out for now, quickly getting ready for the day.

As you come out, you hear the front door open and close.

When you walk into the living room, you find a sweaty Bucky pulling his shirt off.

“Hey,” you breathe, leaning against the hallway opening, arms crossed over your chest lightly.

His eyes shoot to you, and you watch as it takes him a second to respond.

“Hey,” he responds a little out of breath.

You give a half smile as you return his unwavering stare. Pushing off the wall, you saunter over to him. Bucky doesn’t stop you as you lean up to kiss him.

Somewhere in his mind, he is telling himself to stop. But the thoughts aren’t loud enough for him to listen.

He leans down and kisses you back, deeply as his hands find your bottom.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing as one kiss turns into two, turns into three, and before he knows it you’re breathing each other’s air as his tongue explores your mouth while you’re making out on the couch.

He knows he’s sweaty but you don’t seem to care in the slightest as you refuse to let up just the same as him.

He isn’t sure how much time has passed when you finally pull away, breathing heavy as you catch your breath.

You look at him in a way that makes him feel seen. Truly seen. The warmth of your gaze - the love it radiates - it’s something he never wants to lose.

But his heart hurts at your next words - a sense of panic taking over him.

“We should talk,” you say softly, moving a strand of hair out of his face, your soft touch caressing his cheek as you admire him for a moment.

You should talk. He knows that. But he knows exactly what’s going to happen when you do.

He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want this to end so soon. He doesn’t want to lose you so soon after finally being with you. He doesn’t want to hurt you - though he knows no matter what, he will…

“Yeah,” he breathes before leaning back into you. His lips are on yours again, softer as he takes his time, leaning you to lay down on the couch as he holds himself above you.

It’s as much a distraction for himself as it is for you.

With Bucky above you, you let your hands find his hair as you kiss him back.

But it’s not just a kiss - it’s so much more.

Everytime you touch, it’s like a wordless confession of devotion.

Unlike anything you’d ever experienced. And it’s addictive.

You pull him closer, urging him down until he’s nearly right on top of you. A hand slips from his hair and softly trails along his neck, down his chest and stomach until you tug at the waistband of his shorts.

He exhales gruffly as his eyes shut - a second passes as you watch him, perplexed at the look that crosses his face. Briefly unsettling until he opens his eyes and looks at you. Mesmerizing as always, full of longing.

Your clothes are lost as you fumble with each other, touching and yearning; kisses broken off with gasps - each deep thrust of Bucky inside you working you closer and closer to the high that seems to never end as you beg him not to stop, as if he had any plans to.

He can’t get enough, and you’re both insatiable.

—-

You aren��t sure how much time has passed when you’re both laid out on the ground, panting and sweating as Bucky pulls you into him. You’re a dripping, overstimulated mess as you curl into him, feeling full and sated, yet wanting him ever closer.

The comfort he effortlessly exudes relaxes you further as your lashes flutter while you start to regulate your breaths.

“I’m a mess,” you mumble as you nuzzle into him. “You’ve ruined me.”

His fingers are lightly dancing along your soft skin, but his movements stop at your words. You look up to see his face as you let out a quiet titter. He looks guilty, like he’s agonizing over it. Your stomach twists as your arms hug him tighter instinctively.

“I was just kidding,” you murmur with a small smile. “We should shower, though. Did you hear from anyone? Are we cleared to go back today?”

His eyes are trained on you when you meet his gaze again before he blinks, securing you closer to him again. “Haven’t heard yet. Not sure that bodes well for us.”

“I don’t know… another day alone out here doesn’t sound too bad,” you say, lips ghosting his neck as you curl into his warmth.

“Yeah,” he breathes through a twinge in his chest.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He wants to stay here, just like this, forever. Just him and you. No need for things to end.

But he knows better. Or so he keeps telling himself.

The truth is, the moment you guys leave here, you’ll have to leave all of this with you.

He just got you close. He can’t force this ending so soon, he can’t.

It’s selfish and come tomorrow will probably be even more painful, but he needs you. For as long as he can have you, he will.

You pull away from him with a kiss to his cheek, “‘M gonna call Stark. Warm up the shower for me?”

“Yeah,” he answers in a trance as you let your hand slip across his stubbly jaw, watching you stand and saunter off to get your phone. “Anything,” he almost let slip before catching himself, “anything for you.” The sentiment may not pass his lips, but it echos deep in his chest nonetheless. A heavy, gripping truth he couldn’t deny if he wanted to.

—-

You’re drying off, trying not to let how wobbly your legs are at the moment be too noticeable as Bucky gets dressed near the bed. You feel his eyes on you every five seconds, so you know he’ll notice the second you give yourself away.

Your phone dings on the side table, catching both of your attentions.

You open the screen to find a message from Stark. He had said he’d get back to you as soon as he knew if you were good to go or not.

Departure at 16:30 tomorrow night. Sorry, but try not to kill each other. We’ll see you back at the compound.

And job well done, by the way.

“16:30 tomorrow,” you say aloud, glancing to Bucky who is already looking at you. “Got a little over 24 hours to kill… what ever shall we do?”

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