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veltana · 6 months

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No one as sweet as you - Mafia!Stucky/Reader

✦ Pairing: Stucky/Reader ✦ Word count: ~9,4k ✦ Rating: Explicit ✦ Warnings: Mafia AU, best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, protective!stucky, TW: reader is verbally and physically abused by john walker, idiots in love, sharing a bed, poly relationship, piv sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus, praise kink, pet names (Sweets), unprotected sex, creampie. ✦ Summary: When you’re hurt by your boyfriend you go to the two people you can depend on for anything, Steve and Bucky, your best friends. ✦ Note: This is a fic that was previously posted on AO3, at the beginning of the year. But since I'm stuck in writer's block right now I thought I would post this in case you haven't read it. It's one of my favorites. There are some short prequel fics to this also posted on AO3, about when they were living together in college. I'll post those too in the following weeks.

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

The bouncer gives you one glance before he opens the door for you and the line of people you pass shout angrily but you don’t even spare them a glance, your thoughts elsewhere. The music in the club usually invigorates you but tonight it passes through without leaving a trace.

Making your way to Monica at the bar, the people you pass shoot you weird glances and you know you must look a mess. When she sees you she comes right over, the music is too loud to talk so you share a squeeze of the forearm in place of a hug before she pours you your favorite wine, with a pitying smile at your smeared mascara. You throw a kiss at her before making your way to the back and once again the big man at the door opens it for you after a quick look.

The music is muted as you make your way to the stairs at the back that take you up to their private room. When your heels land at the top and you meet Bucky's eyes he lifts the girl currently on his lap off and declares "Everyone out."

Steve shoots him an irritated look before his eyes follow Bucky's and sees you. You stand perfectly still while the women and men who were enjoying a private party with two of the biggest mobsters in New York mill past you down the stairs, some even shoot you dirty looks.

When the last person has passed, you take a step towards them, but before you're two steps in, Bucky has taken the glass from your hand and Steve has lifted you into his arms. You cling to him, hands grasping his shirts, and finally, you know you’re safe.

Steve sits down with you in his lap, cradling your head to lean it against him, the other arm holding you tight at your waist. Bucky's palms are gentle when he rubs your back soothingly. None of them say anything at first but the tears running down your face speak for themselves. You made it all the way without breaking down but with them, you can be vulnerable. For the last seven years, they’ve been the rock, the shelter, and your haven.

"Talk to us, Sweets," Bucky's voice is only that soft with you, maybe sometimes with Steve too, “What’s going on?” You try to take a deep breath, but it just stutters. After a few more tries it’s better but you’re not sure where to begin. They give you time, and don't press you on information, like they otherwise do in their line of work.

Finally, you release Steve's shirt and instead, you find the hand he has wrapped around your waist, twisting the rings on his fingers as you try to speak. You don't want to look at them, the shame and the anxiety is running high in your body but you want to tell them, you just have to find the right words.

"You know the guy I've been seeing," you start and feel Steve's arms tighten around you. Before you can say more Bucky mutters "I'm gonna kill him." Steve is calmer and asks, "What about John, Sweets?" He speaks into your hair, his voice is gentle but it has a hard edge. "He's been so sweet since we started going out, but he's been having a rough time at work lately," you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to remember, your heart beating like crazy. The memories bring forth the panic and the fear again and your breath gets shallow.

"It's alright Sweets, you're here with us, nothing can hurt you," Bucky's low voice is comforting, together with their touch, and you know he’s telling you the truth. It’s the reason you came here instead of going home.

You take a few more breaths and continue "So I thought I'd do something nice for him. We had a spa day and while he soaked in the tub I made dinner and dressed up for him." Frowning hard, your fingers spin the rings on Steve's hand faster and faster the more your anxiety builds, knowing what’s coming.

"And everything was great until I poured the wine and spilled some on the tablecloth." Your mouth opens and closes a few times and the tears start to fall again but Bucky is there with his thumbs, cradling your face and brushing them away, while Steve rocks you gently in his embrace.

"He was furious," you cry. "Said I ruined everything! He threw the wine in my face, then the bottle across the room. He tried to grab me but I ran out of there." There is a long silence when you finish, it’s just your sobs and the music from the other side of the wall. Then Steve says "I'm gonna fucking kill him," his voice laced with rage, and he hugs you even closer.

"I took a cab here, I didn’t know where else to go, I didn’t wanna go home." With the last words out you feel a small relief. You’ve told them. You’ve told someone. The scene still plays in your head, seeing John's eyes turn black with rage when the drops of rosé landed on the white linen, feeling the fear when he started screaming.

"Thank you for telling us, Sweets. You’re an incredible person," Steve says and moves you out of his lap and over to Bucky's. They treat you with the utmost care, moving slowly, giving you time to protest if you want, or detangle yourself if that's what you desire. But you let them manipulate your body how they like because sometimes they know what you need more than you do.

"You did nothing wrong," he goes on to say, holding onto your hands, letting his thumbs caress the skin. "John is an absolute fucking asshole and no one should be treated like that.” You meet his green-blue eyes that are only soft for you, and Bucky. Right now, Steve isn’t the feared mobster that people avert their eyes from when he enters a room, scared they’re going to end up in a ditch because they looked at him wrong. No, this Steve is your best friend.

"I don't want to be scared, and I don't want to go home in case he comes there," you confess. "You'll stay with us," Bucky decides, voice finite. "Let’s go home so you can take a shower and change clothes." You nod and are about to stand up but Bucky is quicker, changing his grip and holding you close as he gets up. He carries you to the car and doesn't let go of you until you're in their mansion, in the room you have there.

When he puts you down your feet are a little unsteady and they both look at you with concern, but you give them a weak smile “It’s okay.” "We'll be right outside, shout if you need anything," Steve tells you and when you nod they both step out and close the door softly behind them.

For a moment you stand still, trying to make sense of the last hours, wondering how everything went to shit. Then you finally get a good look at yourself in the tall mirror and see the black rivulets of mascara and eyeliner smudged down your cheeks, the foundation almost gone.

The dress is ruined by the wine and even if it was expensive and you can get it dry cleaned you don’t want it anymore. You pull it off and throw it into the trash can, quickly followed by the heels. The lingerie is one of your favorite sets but you're unsure if you will ever be able to enjoy it again without remembering how you chose it especially for John. After a moment it goes into the trash, and the earrings too, feeling like you need everything from the night to be gone.

The only thing you keep on your body is the necklace that was a gift from Bucky and Steve years ago and you haven’t taken it off since. It's custom-made with three delicate chains in gold, silver, and black twisted together. You loved it the moment you saw it, knowing that the chains were the three of you, twisted together through the rest of your lives. When you touch it with your fingers it makes you feel better, because you can feel them with you.

The shower feels more than just bodily cleansing and when you remove the last pieces of your smeared makeup, smoothing eye cream over your puffy eyes, the feeling of fear and panic is distant.

In the closet are a bunch of your clothes, probably more than you like to admit, but the best part is the drawer with their old t-shirts. You pull one out, not sure which of them it used to belong to, but it’s worn and soft against your skin. For a moment you press it against your nose, breathing in the detergent that reminds you of this place and all the wonderful memories that you have with them, before you find your pajama pants.

Out in your room you sit on the bed and look around at the muted colors. Bucky and Steve insisted that the room was yours, not just a guest room, and it makes you smile a little when you think about how much fun you had decorating it.

After taking a deep breath you open the door and find them just a few steps away. The look in Bucky's eyes is murderous and Steve's fists are clenched by his side, but when they turn to you they go back to being your best friends that you met in college all those years ago. "How are you feeling?" Bucky steps up to you and pulls you into a soft hug, tucking your head underneath his chin as you wrap your arms around his waist, breathing in the smell of him. Steve comes up behind you, placing his palms on your shoulders, rubbing the muscles carefully. "Better now," you answer. "But I never had dinner so I'm a bit hungry."

Bucky pulls away from you, cradling your face, tilting it up until you're looking right into his light blue eyes. "Let's go raid the kitchen," he smiles and holds your gaze for a few seconds more and there is so much love in those eyes it's almost scary. You know he would burn down the city if it made you happy, they both would, and that intensity is one of the many things that have kept you from finding out what it would be like to be theirs. You're not sure you'd be able to handle it.

When Bucky lets go of you, Steve's arm goes around your waist and he pulls you into him, Bucky takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, and you walk to the kitchen. You sit down at the kitchen island while they open the fridge.

"The chef made mac'n’cheese," Steve says and pulls out an oven pan, covered in tin foil with a post-it note on top with instructions for heating it. Bucky turns on the oven and says, "Want something to drink Sweets?"

"Soda?" you ask and Steve pulls a can out of the fridge before settling down beside you, handing it to you. You hand it right back "Please? I don't wanna fuck up my nails." That makes him chuckle as he opens it and the sound makes you warm on the inside so you lean your head against his shoulder.

"Thank you," you sigh. "For always being here for me. I'm sorry I ruined your party." "You didn't ruin shit," Bucky spits out, glaring at you from where he is standing by the oven. Steve and you chuckle at his harsh tone but then he leans forward, over the counter towards you, resting his large arms against the surface.

"I mean it, Sweets, don't you ever think you ruin anything by showing up, for any reason," his voice is stern but you know it comes from a place of love. "Thank you, Bucky, it means a lot," you smile.

When the oven is warm Bucky puts the tray in and pulls out plates. It only takes a few minutes and your tummy rumbles as the kitchen fills with the smell of cheese. Bucky and Steve make small talk about work things and you're grateful for them filling the silence while you finally get some food.

But it isn't the nice chicken that you cooked for John that you looked forward to eating and your eyes begin to burn. Even though you try to force the tears back they come anyway and run down your cheeks as you eat. Neither Bucky nor Steve notice until you reach for a paper towel and sniffle loudly. Not a second later you're wrapped up in Steve's embrace, crying into his shirt again while Bucky caresses your hair and nape. They mumble sweet things to you and tell you that you're safe and that nothing is ever going to hurt you again.

After a few minutes, the tears run dry. "I'm okay," you say and Steve loosens his hold, his eyes filled with concern for you. "You sure?" "Yeah, but I feel like I've been hit by a truck. Should probably try to get some sleep.” "We're sleeping in my room," Bucky decides and you nod, Steve too.

It's not unusual for the three of you to share a bed when one of you has had a rough time. The first time it happened was after finals and you all fell asleep in Steve's bed, totally exhausted, and slept better than you'd had in weeks.

Then it was after break-ups, yours, Steve's, Bucky's, somehow you all ended up in a bed together every time and it wasn't sexual at any point, just friends being there for each other and it continued through the years. The only time it was out of the question was when one of you was in a relationship, then it just felt weird, and from previous experience, it wasn't something that partners were all that accepting of.

You retrieve your pillows and cover from your room before settling in Bucky’s huge bed, your feet twisted up with Steve's, and Bucky is holding your hand. It's nice, it's familiar and you drift off knowing you're safe with them.

The room is dark when their soft voices wake you, but that might be because of the black-out curtains and not because it's still night. They’ve moved close enough to you that you can feel the warmth from their bodies on either side of you, and Bucky’s chest is right in front of your eyes when you open them slightly to peek. They don't notice you're awake and you don't feel like announcing it either, curious what they’re talking about.

"We let her decide." Even if Steve's tone is hushed it's still hard. "She is too sweet, you know she would never hurt a fly, she's going to say no," Bucky protests harshly in a whisper. This is interesting, you think.

"Even if you and I are fine with getting blood on our hands, maybe she doesn't want to live with that, maybe she wants to press charges." Steve has always been the more level-headed of the two, good with looking at things from all angles and keeping his cool. Bucky huffs and you want to giggle. His emotions always get him in trouble, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. When Bucky is angry he sees red and when he loves he does it with his whole soul and being. One time you asked Steve how he isn’t dead yet since his poker face seems to suck, but Steve explained that when they’re doing business he is usually calm and collected. When his emotions finally break through, people know they should probably run.

"Fine.” You can tell Bucky is not happy but he lowers his voice even more, and now it’s tinged with something else. “But I'm never letting her go again." His words together with his gentle tone make your heart skip. There was a time when you seriously thought about asking them to see if the three of you could work it out, and be more than just friends. But what you have with them is so precious that if it fails in the end, and you lose your best friends, you're not sure how you're going to go on.

"And you think I will?" Steve mutters. "We should have said something a long time ago." "Well, we can't go back in time. All I know is that I love her and I can't see her with anyone else ever again," Bucky's voice sounds like it's going to crack. He never cries but that is as close as it gets.

Steve reaches over you towards him, you can't see what he does but you know how Steve's comforting hands look on Bucky, you've seen it before. Sometimes they're even sweeter with each other than they are with you, when they think no one can see them, not even you. It's so clear that they love each other deeply, honestly it's surprising that they don't just date each other.

You hear Bucky hum in contentment and Steve gives a small soft laugh. It feels like a good time as any to pretend to wake up. You file away their words for another day, not ready to deal with them now in the wake of what’s happened. First, you need to heal the broken heart you're already nursing before thinking about giving it away again.

With a groan you turn from your side to your back, stretching and blinking your eyes open. They're lying on their sides, both resting their heads on their hands. "What time is it?" you mumble, rubbing your eyes. "Just past nine," Bucky informs you and brushes a few strands of hair out of your face. "And you two are still here?" "Just for you," Steve says softly and finds your hand, twisting your fingers together.

Both of them are early risers and you hate mornings, something they tease you for endlessly. "Honestly though, have you already, like, gone for a run, had breakfast, and then sealed some important deal?" "Nope." Bucky slides his arm in under your neck, placing the other hand on your hip, and pulls you closer to him. "We didn't want to leave in case you woke up." Steve shuffles closer, his chest pressing into your shoulder. "Didn't want you to think we left you all by yourself."

You hum and decide to ask "Would it be okay if I stay here a few days?" "Sweets, stay as long as you want. It's your home as much as ours,” Steve answers. "No,” you correct. “My name is definitely not on any papers for this house." "We can fix that if that's what you want. Just move here." Bucky is serious but you decide to laugh it off. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" "Like old times." he smiles.

"Except I have no desire to listen to the people you bring home scream and moan, got enough of that in college,” tumbles out of your mouth without really thinking of it. They exchange a look but before they can say anything you hastily continue. "Do you think I need to break up with John, or do you think he got the message when I left?"

An uneasy silence falls and Bucky breaks it. "I'm gonna be honest with you Sweets, I really wanna fucking kill him, and make it as painful and as horrifying for him as possible. Death will feel like a blessing in the end." Steve speaks next. "But it's your decision, and if you wanna press charges against him, we'll make our lawyers available."

It’s a lot to take in at that moment. "I don't know,” you answer truthfully. “It still hurts, I'm still scared but I'm not sure what will make it better." "When you've decided you let us know and we'll do whatever you want." Steve bends down to kiss the top of your head.

"If I see him on the street or something though I'm gonna punch him," Bucky says casually before letting go of you and getting out of bed. When his warmth leaves you, you whine and that makes him chuckle. He kneels on the bed and kisses your forehead. "Steve will keep you company while I make breakfast." "You mean go get what the chef has already prepared?" you joke. Bucky shoots you a look before leaving the bedroom.

"We should be glad he isn't actually cooking. Remember when he tried to make pancakes for his girlfriend and almost burned down the apartment," Steve notes. "That's because he got distracted. I mean, I'm glad I came out of my room when I did but the image of Bucky and her on the kitchen table still haunts me," you chuckle.

"You weren't exactly innocent back in those days either," Steve points out with a laugh. "But I never did it on the communal surfaces," you defend with a huff. "No, all we got was listening to you trying to stifle every sound and failing miserably." "Well, at least I didn't break a wall while fucking someone." "It was a shitty wall, never have that problem here." "See that's why I don't wanna move here." "We can soundproof your room?" "Or I can just live in my apartment?"

Bucky comes back with a breakfast tray and places it on the bedside table before pulling out your phone from his pants. "It's been buzzing nonstop since I got down," he explains and hands it to you right as the screen lights up with an incoming call.

"It's John," you tell them, and your chest floods with anxiety as you stare at the screen and sit up against the headboard. "Answer it," Steve sits up beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. Bucky is pressed against you much the same on your other side. "On speaker," he instructs and takes out his own phone to record the call.

Your hands shake as you swipe to answer. "H-hello." Your voice is wavering. "Baby! I'm sorry for yesterday, I'm sorry I got mad. I've been calling since you left, I've been so worried. I checked your place but you weren't home. Where are you?" John says in a worried voice. "I'm at a friend's house," you reply.

The feelings in your chest are conflicted, on one hand you never want to see him again but hearing his voice makes you remember that when he is good he is great, amazing even, and you would be lying if you said you didn't miss him. For the last few months, you gave it your all and you were even prepared to tell him you love him.

"I'll come and pick you up and let me apologize properly," he sounds pained like he is actually sorry for what he did. Fuck, it's so tempting to go back but you know better. You know that this is just the tip of the iceberg, and getting wine thrown in your face is probably not the worst that can happen.

"No, John." You try to sound confident but you're not sure it comes across. "I don't think it's going to work out between us." The moment you say the words the tears well up and Steve starts rubbing your shoulder." You're doing great," he whispers right by your ear so John doesn't hear.

"Are you-" John sounds shocked. "Are you breaking up with me… over the phone?" "Yeah, sorry." You cringe, you shouldn't be sorry. "You scared me yesterday and I feel like I don't know you anymore."

"Babe you don't need to be scared of me, I would never hurt you I swear," he sounds like he is about to cry and a part of you wants to comfort him. "You threw wine in my face and said some really mean things," you point out.

"I didn't mean any of that, I promise. You know I've had a lot on my plate lately and I didn't mean to take it out on you." There is some part of you that desperately wants to believe him. "That's not an excuse," you go on. "I'm not an object for you to take out your frustration on. It's not going to work John."

There is a long silence before he speaks again and now his voice is laced with rage instead. "Then you can come get your fucking things right now." "John, please don't-" you start but he cuts you off.

"You fucking bitch, you lead me on for months and then you break up with me over the phone, because what? You think I’m gonna hit you or something?" "Yeah, maybe," you answer truthfully. "You're such a dumb bitch, I would never lay a hand on a woman I care about."

Both Steve and Bucky stir beside you. When you shoot them a glance they are both staring at the screen with murder in their eyes. "Calling me names won't change my mind, John," it hurts when he says them, like an actual stab in the heart and it brings out more tears.

Bucky leans over and taps the mute button. "There is no way you're going over there, we'll send Sam and Vis." You nod and unmute while John is raging on about how dumb and useless you are and how he wishes he'd never wasted his time on you. "I'm going to send some friends to pick up my things."

"Oh, so you won't even face me yourself?” his voice is unrecognizable now. “You know what? I'm glad for what I did, I'm not sorry anymore, you're obviously a fucking coward and not worth a second of my time." Every ounce of fight is gone from you, you're just tired and want it to be over. You don’t want to listen to the hurtful words anymore so you simply say "Goodbye John," and don't even wait for a response before hanging up. You drop the phone into the sheets and bury your face in your hands, your body jerking with sobs.

Steve and Bucky’s arms go around you but you hardly notice, everything is just excruciating pain, your heart smashed into a million pieces. Twenty-four hours ago you were happy with a man you thought you knew, and loved, but now everything is broken and you're not sure what you’re going to do next.

It takes a long time for you to stop crying and when it finally ends you're exhausted, again. The coffee Bucky brought has gone cold but Steve holds a glass of juice to your lips and makes you take a few sips before coaxing some yogurt into your mouth. "Steve is going to stay with you while I take care of a few things. If you need me, you tell him and I'll be right back," Bucky promises when he leaves the bed again, taking the tray with him out of the bedroom.

"Is he going to kill him?" you ask softly as you sink down under the covers. Steve puts his arm around your waist and pulls you into his chest until your face is squished against it. "No," his voice is soft. "Not without me." "Steve…" "Can you blame us, Sweets? John was lucky it was over the phone or else we would have beaten him into a pulp for saying those things."

"He never acted like that before," you whisper. "I'm just happy you got out before he put his hands on you," Steve whispers back. "If you had shown up with bruises yesterday I might have lost it." "I love you," you tell him and he kisses the top of your head. "I love you too, Sweets, and I know Bucky feels just the same." You hum and let the exhaustion take over.

They have switched when you wake the next time, you're in Bucky's arms and he is carding his fingers through your hair speaking quietly to you. "Wake up Sweets, it's time for dinner."

Even if you’ve slept right through lunch you shake your head and swing your leg over his hip, clinging to him. "Don't wanna get up," you whine. "If you eat dinner, we can watch a movie on the couch afterward." He knows just how to tempt you and you need something to try and take your mind off everything.

"Candy?" you pull back. Even if the light in the room is dim you can still see the blue in his eyes, and the crinkles at the corners when he smiles. "You know we keep stock of everything you like, there is always something sweet for our Sweets."

You hug him hard. "I love you Bucky, you know that right?" "I love you too, Sweets." He kisses the top of your head, much like Steve did earlier. "And I know Steve feels just the same." That makes you giggle "Steve said the same thing." "Well he is a smart man," he shrugs.

Bucky all but pulls you out of bed but he doesn't force you to change out of your pajamas. He leads you to the kitchen where Steve is plating the food and your stomach grumbles when you smell it. They have set the table with candles and it looks lovely but it also reminds you of your last candle-lit dinner. Bucky sees the look on your face turns you away from it and tilts your chin up with his fingertips, "It’s…” he begins, hesitating, trying to find the right words. “We want to replace every bad memory, but if it’s too much too soon we’ll throw it all out.”

The scary thing is that he is serious. If you said the word they would throw everything out, but you don't want that, you want a nice dinner with them and try to get past what happened. Maybe it will help, maybe it won’t but you won’t know until you’ve tried. And if there is one thing you know for sure, it is that you are safe with them.

“It’s fine, I’ll try,” you promise with a smile before turning around to sit down at the table. Steve serves the food and Bucky pours you a glass of wine. After a few bites, Bucky brings up some stupid shit the three of you did a long time ago and through dinner, you reminisce about old times.

Since meeting John you haven't seen them as much because you learned early on that partners were weirded out or even jealous of what you had with them. Right now you can’t fathom why you would ever do that, because these two people are the best thing in your life.

You fold your napkin into your lap and look at them. "I'm sorry for, like, ghosting you the last few months," you swallow hard. "I've been a shitty friend but you always take care of me when I need you, and I’m so thankful for that. I promise I’ll do better."

"It's okay sweets," Steve smiles and reaches over the table to grasp your hand. Bucky takes the other and his thumb caresses your knuckles. "Don't apologize, there is no need." The lump in your throat is from love and not from sadness this time and you don't try to speak, just nod, squeezing their hands back.

Afterward, you cuddle up on the couch to watch a movie but ten minutes in you're already nodding off. When Steve and Bucky notice you're asleep they turn the TV off and Steve carries you up to Bucky's bedroom. "She has work tomorrow," Bucky whispers and pulls the cover up over your body. "Fuck, should we wake her?" Steve asks back. "No, let her sleep, she starts at nine so if we let her sleep til seven it should be fine."

Fortunately, the alarm on your phone goes off as usual but when you turn to snooze it, you instead roll into a warm chest. Steve grumbles and reaches for your phone, handing it to you before seizing you around the waist, and burying his face in your neck.

“Hey, I have to get up,” you mutter. It feels like your eyes are filled with sand and your head is pounding but you have to go to work nonetheless. “You don’t have to work,” he speaks into your skin and it makes a tingling feeling travel through you.

“Don’t be silly, let go of me,” you chuckle and detangle yourself. The other side of the bed is empty, Bucky already up. You drag yourself over to your room to shower before getting ready and eating breakfast. Steve insists on driving you to work and Bucky comes and sees you off with a long hug and a kiss on your hair. “I’ve put Clint and Peter to watch your apartment and Sam and Vis are going to be outside your work all day, Sweets.” “Thank you, Bucky.”

When Steve drops you off he points out the car. "If you see John or you for any other reason feel unsafe you can go to them right away, or call us,” he tucks a strand of hair in behind your ear. “Don’t hesitate. You mean everything to us and we want to keep you safe, Sweets,” You nod. “Thank you, Steve,” you whisper, leaning over the console to kiss his cheek before heading to work.

What you told yourself would only be a few days, turns into a few weeks and now it’s almost two months. Despite your initial refusal, you’re enjoying living with them again. A few times after the break-up, John tried to contact you and every time the phone started buzzing and your anxiety spiked you found one of them and they helped you through it.

You haven’t slept in your room once and neither has Steve, it's always the three of you sleeping in Bucky's bed. It could be because Bucky has an expensive bed that you sleep so soundly, but in the back of your head, you know it’s because their presence calms you.

If Bucky or Steve can't drive you to work, someone else does, your own car is still parked on the street by your apartment and you don’t have any desire to go get it. But you do miss some of your clothes, and toiletries, so maybe you should take it as a sign that you need to go back.

After getting home from work that day you walk up to their office, a little apprehensive. Both of them are leaning over the desk when you poke your head in, their cuffs rolled up, exposing their underarms. It’s enough to make your stomach flip, they look too good. Steve sees you first and a smile splits his face. “Hey Sweets, have a good day at work?”

Bucky turns and opens his arms towards you when you step into the room. His hug is warm and comforting and you answer Steve’s question with a yes, before taking a step back from them. "I know I said I was only going to stay a few days but it's been way more than that now, so I think I'll go back to my place after work tomorrow." You try to sound as neutral as possible, neither sad nor happy, just stating a fact.

"No," Bucky breathes, fists tightening at his sides. "I agree with Bucky, don't leave," Steve's voice is calm and his face doesn’t give much away but his eyes are betraying him, they’re too glossy, too wide, and too filled with fear to miss.

The other reason you need to go back home is the way they are treating you and touching you. It’s making your feelings run wild and you can't have that, you can’t risk losing them too. And if that wasn't enough they've invaded your dreams with their touches and words, making you wake up aching for them in a way that is totally inappropriate.

"I can't stay, you know that," you sigh. "No, I don't." Bucky is frustrated, staring at you. "I really fucking don't know why you can't stay. We love having you here and you seem to love being here. Just stay."

His mood is making you defensive, you don't want to explain that you're obviously catching feelings soon after getting out of something traumatic. You need to think, and every time you wake up drenched, tucked in between them you are seconds away from ruining everything by confessing or honestly just taking one of their hands and pushing it in between your legs, hoping they will help you get off.

"I need my own space, Bucky," you cross your arms and glare at him. "You have your own room," he states and takes a step closer. "That I don't use anyway," you reply and take a step back. "Because you don't want to!" His raised voice silences you not because you're scared but because he's right. Bucky isn’t stupid and he's not the type to sugarcoat things when he's upset.

Your heart is hammering. "No I don't want to," you confess with a breath. "But I need to." Then you turn to go but only get a step from the desk before Steve grabs your wrist. He spins you into his chest, Bucky coming up behind you, boxing you in between them. Bucky's head falls on your shoulder. "I can't let you go again, Sweets, I can't do it."

Your mind flashes back to the morning when you pretended to sleep and heard them talking. The breath in your chest hitches as you look up into Steve's blue-green eyes. “I’m with him, Sweets,” he says in a low voice and cups your cheek with his large hand. “You belong here, with us.”

Your mouth opens and you try to protest but it dies on your tongue and Steve takes the opportunity to continue. "We love you, more than anything, we want you to be ours, more than just our best friend. Live with us, be with us in every sense of the word. All three of us, together," his voice wavers at the end.

The words sink in slowly. Be with them. Be theirs. Stay. Your body is aching to say yes and your heart is about to beat its way out of your chest. “But…” “All I know is that I feel incomplete without you, like a part of my soul is somewhere else, and the only time I'm at peace is when I'm with you two. I can't keep living like a part of me is missing. So I'm asking you, please stay, please help us figure this out and be with us." Bucky’s arms wrap around your waist. "Every time I see you with someone else my heart gets ripped out of my chest and I've tried to be with other people, we both have, but in the end, they’re not you."

Their confessions break down your defenses as their words ring true. In all your relationships over the years, there's always been something missing but you've never been able to figure out what. There's been passion and there's been love but it's always lacking something and now you think you get it. It has lacked them and the deep connection you share through years and years of friendship. Feeling stupid about wanting to leave and thinking you weren’t ready to be with them makes tears well in your eyes. Whatever it is you three can figure it out, it may not be traditional but it beats being unhappy.

"Don't cry, Sweets." Steve runs his thumb over your cheek. You lean your head into his chest, nodding against it. "I'll stay," you sniffle. The arms around your waist tighten and Bucky speaks into your shoulder. "Really Sweets?" he sounds like he’s worried that maybe you're joking.

"Really Bucky," you promise, wrapping your arms around Steve and hugging him close. For a moment it’s just the three of you enveloped in your shared love but then Bucky rights himself and you look up at him over your shoulder, matching his silly smile.

He leans in like he is about to kiss you but he stops himself, his eyes searching yours for something, and it's scary. If you take the plunge everything will change, or maybe it won't, but it feels like an earthquake is rolling through your life, upsetting everything and if you let him kiss you it will be real. But that's what you want.

"Please?" you ask him and his whole face lights up before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours. It could be described as fireworks, an erupting volcano, or maybe feeling the first rays of sunlight on your skin after years in darkness, but nothing will come close to the feeling of being kissed by Bucky.

It's a chaste kiss with just his lips moving carefully against yours. It's over quicker than you want but in his place is Steve, turning your head back towards him and descending on you. His fingers run through your hair and he opens your mouth to let his tongue play with yours, the feeling once again indescribable, it's just the feeling of right. Everything about it feels right.

Even if the kiss is slow when he pulls back your breathing is labored and you're clutching his shirt. "I-" you begin but can’t find any words. That kiss ignited something inside you, it's like you're seeing color for the first time, everything is clearer and sharper. What even was your life before?

"Are doing okay Sweets?" Bucky asks next to your ear and you nod in response. When his soft lips caress the side of your neck you whimper and lean your head to give him better access, he chuckles against your skin, nipping it and making you gasp. "I wanna eat you up, find out what you taste like everywhere."

It’s a badly kept secret that Bucky has a marking kink. You’ve seen his exes, you know he's possessive and likes to leave marks. You can't wait to have them on you so you whisper, "Mark me.”

Steve chuckles above you. "She knows you, Bucky," he says with a smile. "You too, Steve, please?" You’re almost begging, but not quite, just asking nicely. "You want me to give you a hickey?" he asks with a crooked smile but those eyes are too easy to read. He craves you. "Or a bruise, or a bite mark, something, anything," "Fuck…" His face changes to match his dark eyes. "You want everyone to know you belong to us, Sweets?" he asks with a hoarse voice and you feel the large bulge in his pants press against your stomach.

You nod, biting your lip. "Show me how you do it, Bucky.” They spin you around and Bucky grabs at the collar of your blouse, pulling harshly, sending the buttons flying over the office. “Hey-” you begin but he pulls the fabric aside exposing the juncture between your shoulder and neck. First, he sinks his teeth in, hard enough for you to hiss but not breaking the skin, then he closes his lips and sucks.

It's painful but the act in itself makes you throb. When he pulls back you release your breath but Steve is quick to pull the neckline on the other side and do the exact same thing. He is gentler but when he's done there is still a purple bruise on your skin. "Fuck me," you whimper against Bucky.

"Yes, Sweets, we will. Long and hard until you can't take it anymore. We're going to ruin you." Steve promises before he grabs you and lifts you up, spinning you so you can wrap your legs around him as he starts walking to the bedroom, Bucky right behind you. You reach your hand out towards him and he grabs it, kissing your palm and knuckles. "We're going to take care of you Sweets, you'll never want for anything," he promises with a wicked smirk.

Steve places you on the edge of the bed and stands up, looking down at you. Bucky comes up beside him, resting his forearm on Steve's shoulder. "Look at our sweets, can you believe it?" Bucky asks. Steve turns to him with a smile. "Yes." Then he places two fingers under Bucky's chin, turning his head before kissing him. It's heated, filthy and it's the hottest thing you've ever seen. You squeeze your legs together to alleviate some of the pressure you're feeling in your cunt. Their kiss shows that it's nothing new, they've obviously done it before and you're a little mad that they have withheld this from you.

When Steve starts pulling on Bucky's clothes you can't keep the moan from slipping out. They both break away and turn to you and you feel small in the best way possible. "Did you like that?" Bucky asks before leaning down and kissing you.

The knowledge that his tongue was just in Steve's mouth and is now sliding against yours makes you moan again. You start undoing the buttons on his shirt and he pulls on your top. When you separate, he pulls it off and you’re left in just your bralette. Steve makes a sound in the back of his throat at the sight and starts taking off his own clothes.

Bucky kneels in front of you on the floor, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them off, while you stare at Steve as more and more skin is revealed. He holds your gaze the whole time and you bite your lip when he starts at his pants. His chest and forearms are huge, covered in tattoos but in no way hiding the muscle underneath. It makes your mouth water and your cunt clench.

Bucky starts kissing up your bare leg, beginning at your ankles and slowly working his way up your calve and the inside of your thigh. When you're still staring at Steve he nips your skin. "I know he's gorgeous but when I eat your pussy I want your eyes on me, Sweets." He tries to look offended but his pupils are blown wide with lust.

Just the thought of him between your legs makes a shiver run through you and your cunt impossibly wetter. Nodding at him you caress the side of his face and watch him, the closer he gets, the more you start to tremble with need. No one had ever made you feel so needy and horny.

Bucky kisses your cunt through your underwear, making you gasp. "Please Bucky, I need you." "I know, I can smell how fucking wet you are Sweets." He twists your panties out of the way. "Fuck, Steve, look at her, she's dripping."

Steve, in just his underwear now, slides his fingers gently through the mess, making you tremble and moan, before bringing the fingers to his mouth and holding your gaze as he licks them clean. Then Bucky's mouth is on you, his tongue licking from your core up to your clit.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck-" you cry and grab the sheets under you, bucking up into his touch. Steve chuckles and gets behind you on the bed. "He looks like he's in heaven, Sweets. He has wanted you for so long." You feel his fingers undo the clasp of your bra and then slide it off. His hands cup your tits a second later, making more sounds spill out of your mouth. His fingers rub, caress, and pull on your nipples while Bucky is hurdling you toward your climax.

"I'm- I'm gonna-" Your legs shake and you grab Steve's arm with one hand, the other going to Bucky's head, grabbing his short hair. Every muscle in your body tenses right before the coil snaps, making you scream out your release, riding Bucky's face and feeling the pleasure-filled waves travel through your body.

You slump against Steve's and he holds you. Bucky pulls back with a shit-eating grin, wiping his face with the back of his hand, saying "Fuck Sweets," before he stands up and starts taking off his clothes.

You already feel amazing, high off your orgasm but you want more and Steve's hard-on is pressing into your back. You turn around on the bed. "Move up," you tell him and his smirk is knowing but he does as you say and moves to sit against the headboard.

You rid yourself of your drenched panties before grabbing his boxers and pulling them off. "Eager Sweets?" he chuckles and fists his cock as soon as it's free. It's thick and long as him and you can't fucking wait. You bite your lip before asking "Condom?"

"I know we should but I want to feel you raw Sweets,” he confesses. “Are you on birth control?" "Sure, and I got tested the week after…" you trail off not wanting the bad memories to ruin the moment. Bucky's heat is suddenly behind you, grabbing your hair and forcing your head back to kiss you deeply. When he lets go he says, "Steve and I got tested like a week before you moved in and I've not even looked another person's way since then." Steve laughs "And I haven't fucked anyone either so get over here and ride my cock Sweets."

To say you scramble is an accurate description, quickly shuffling over to him and straddling his hips. You hold onto his shoulders as he swipes the head of his cock through your mess, holding it still for you to sink down on.

All three of you moan in unison as his dick disappears into your tight hot channel. The grip Steve has on your hips is almost bruising and the look on his face is painful. “F-fuck. Sweets. Damn.” Is all he gets out. You lean in, kissing his cheeks and chin and lips, and start to move, slowly, the feeling is amazing, he's filling you up to the brim perfectly.

"Feels so good," you stutter and then drop down hard. "I'm never watching porn again," Bucky says from behind you and you watch him over your shoulder, kneeling on the bed and jerking his cock. You whine in the back of your throat, you want him too, so you reach for him as you bounce on Steve's cock, making him spill the most delicious sounds.

Bucky shuffles over and you grab his dick in your hand, he's big enough that it doesn't fit all the way around. His hand lands on Steve's shoulder to steady himself and Steve reaches out to place a hand on his hip.

The sounds the three of you make fill the room. It's moans, groans, and whimpers, the sound of slapping skin and squelching wetness. Your clit is steadily rubbing against Steve, getting you closer and closer. Bucky is panting heavily, Steve is too.

"Sweets, I can feel you. Are you gonna come on my cock?" Steve is trying to sound unaffected and failing miserably, but he continues to spill filth that rushes you toward the edge. "When I've filled you up, Bucky is gonna fuck my cum right back into you, aren't you Buck?" "Fuck yes," he groans before leaning in and kissing you deeply. “I wanna see you come on his cock Sweets.”

"Next time I wanna feel both of you come in me at the same time," you whimper. "Sweets, you goddamn slut." Steve groans with a laugh and bucks up into you harder. "Tell us more! Please! I want to hear every filthy little thought hidden inside that mind."

You turn to look at Bucky. "I want both of you in every hole. I want you to use me like I'm a toy and worship me like a queen," you tell him, then turn to Steve. "Put my name on the house and celebrate it by fucking in every room, on every surface, show me all of your kinks, give me everything."

Steve's eyes are screwed shut and he's let go of Bucky to grab your hips, pulling you down onto his big cock. "Keep going," you urge him, your release just a few thrusts away. But he's too close and before you can get there he suddenly sits up to wrap his arms around your waist, crushing you against his chest, thrusting up hard, and comes with a loud moan of your name.

You feel wild, right on the edge of ecstasy but left dangling in mid-air. With pleading eyes and a whine you look at Bucky who smirks at you before pulling you away from Steve and laying you on your back. A second later he fills you up, the sound of his cock pushing through Steve's mess is as sweet as it's nasty.

"Please, Bucky, please," you beg. "Yeah I know, don't worry, not gonna blow my load early," he taunts over his shoulder at Steve who just gives him the finger. "Understand him though, you’re so tight and warm Sweets. Makes me a bit crazy. I just want to fill you up over and over again," he confesses.

"I need to-" you begin but he cuts you off. "Rub your clit for me. Come on my cock," he demands but you know something that is even better than your own fingers and you reach out your arm.

"Steve," you plead and he crawls over to you and lays down beside you, pushing his hand in between your bodies, finding your clit. You arch off the bed with his touch, hands clutching Bucky's arms as he rams into you. The dual sensation is amazing and with how close you were seconds ago the end approaches quickly. Your moans get louder the closer you get and both Bucky and Steve praise you the whole way through.

"You sound so fucking pretty."

"I can barely move you gripping me so tight."

"You're so good at taking cock, Sweets. First mine and now Bucky's, it's like you were made for us."

You nod at the last thing and the pressure in your body is breaking, making your muscles convulse, almost pushing Bucky out with how hard you're coming, screaming their names as you do.

"Fuck! Yes, Sweets!" Bucky’s laugh is a little manic as he works you through it. "I'm going to fill our sweet little cunt with more cum." His hips stutter against you before he groans out your name and collapses on top of you. You run your fingers over his sweaty back and kiss his cheek. Then you turn to Steve, smiling at him beside you. "He's heavy," you complain.

Both of them laugh and Bucky rolls off before they move until you're squeezed in between them, their cum running down your legs, making a mess on the bed. Fortunately, you have at least two other beds to sleep in.

For a few months, you're walking on air. In a throuple with your two best friends, amazing sex, luxury beyond what you could have ever imagined. They constantly spoil you and they've tried to convince you to quit your job since you don't need to work when you're with them.

Tonight you're in another fancy restaurant. Bucky is trying to feed you chocolate cake because it's romantic but you tell him over and over again that you can eat by yourself. Suddenly Steve stiffens beside you and since he isn't known to have tells, you immediately get worried and follow his gaze.

John is standing at the door with a pretty girl on his arm, talking to the waiter and then being shown to a table. Next to yours.

When your eyes meet he stops for a second and his date shoots confused looks between the two of you, before you nod and he nods back, then moves again and sits down.

Steve asks for the check and you're out of your seat and outside the restaurant in no time. Bucky holds your coat as you put it on and a moment later Steve comes out too. His eyes are black with hate and when you're finally in the car you realize that you can't live like this.

"I think-" you begin, swallowing then clearing your throat, "I think I'm going to need those lawyers."

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delaber · 1 year

Text

Warrior/Worrier (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: After a mission gone awry, Bucky finds himself on your doorstep in the middle of the night.

Words: 5.3K

Fluff, fluff and fluff and a lil bit of angst. Classic hurt/comfort and friends to lovers

Through the darkness, there's a knock on your bedroom door, so soft, so cautious, that if you hadn't already been half-awake, you're not sure you would've caught it.

Legs quickly swung over the side of your mattress, you stop and focus at a fixpoint in your moonlit room.

According to the big mission schedule hung in Steve's office, you should be the only one at the compound, so you cannot for the life in you figure out who would rap on your door at 3.30 in the morning, but it wasn't just something you'd imagined because there it is again. A knock, not much louder than before, but definitely there.

For a brief second, your foggy brain ponders that it's likely someone who's been sent to kill you in the dead of night, but before you've even reached for your bedside Beretta, rationality reminds you that they probably wouldn't have had the curtesy to knock first - and then it dawns on you.

"Nat," you sigh with a roll of your eyes and let your bare feet hit the floor while you rub the sleep from off your face. It's not the first time she's forgotten the lock combination to her room after post-mission drinks.

Slowly, you walk across the cold floorboards and over to the wooden door where you can hear ragged breathing from the other side of the wall. Hand lazily pulling the door open, you start talking before you've seen who's on the other side.

"It's only four digits and you're panic breathing?" you chuckle but is immediately taken aback when you're not met by Natasha but instead by your best friend. "...Buck?"

He's back from his mission a day earlier than you'd expected and you're just about to crack a witty comment on how you'd told him that Sam couldn't stand to be alone with him for more than thirty-six hours, but then you notice the state he's in.

His entire body is slumped over as he clutches his right arm tight to his chest, eyes droopy and blank, cheekbones dotted by freckles of soot and framed by thick strands of auburn hair caked in dried blood. "Doll," he breathes painfully and takes a step closer, looking only mildly relieved to see you.

"Buck!" you hiss in fear and grab both his cheeks, but his dirty face just drops further, and he can't even look at you though you're standing mere inches apart.

"I know it's late," he mumbles with his gaze downcast, "but can I come in?"

It's as if you don't hear him clearly enough to respond. His voice is under water and at the same time layers above you while you're far too concerned with every look of horror splashed across his handsome face, your hands frantically clutching his bloodied cheeks as you desperately search his eyes though he still won't look at you. "What happened? Where's all this blood coming from?"

"It's - it's not mine..." he croaks with a small shake of his head.

Fear ripples through your entire body one more time and you can barely speak as you imagine the worst possible scenario that might have caused Bucky to behave like this. "Is it... Sam?" you whimper with tears already burning in your eyes, fighting the urge to throw up.

"He's fine," Bucky quickly interrupts with a small nod, "I dropped him off at his girl's place twenty minutes ago," he croaks and finally looks up at you, his eyes more broken than you've ever seen them before. It makes your heart crack in two. "Sweetheart, can I please come in?"

"Oh god," you pant anxiously and reluctantly let your fingers slide off his cheeks as you step to the side and finally let him inside your bedroom. "Yes, yes of course you can come in."

Immediately, he's on your bed, his face buried in his vibranium hand as the pads of his fingers start rubbing circles over his dusty forehead.

"What happened?" you barely manage to croak as you sit down beside him and carefully place a hand on his rigid thigh. "Last time I heard from you, everything was going according to plan."

"I don't want to talk about it," he gulps and starts rubbing his face even more agitatedly, looking over at you with an apologetic look on his face. "- not right now... I just had to see you. I'm sorry I woke you up."

You grab his vibranium hand and bring it down to his lap to get him to stop his frantic movements and he immediately squeezes you tight, letting out another heart-breaking sob.

"It's okay, Buck. I'm glad you're here."

Over the last year, you've seen Bucky on his darkest days a handful of times, and he usually has the same look on his face, but this time, it's different. It's deeper. Despondent and morose, the anger that's usually posessing him om the bleaker days replaced by a different kind of sadness.

Something really bad must've happened...

"Do you wanna sleep in here tonight?" you ask, unsure how to tackle this the best way possible if you don't want him to shield himself off in his room the way he usually does when he's not feeling his best. He shouldn't be alone under any circumstances.

You're half expecting him to protest, but to your surprise he starts nodding, relieved. "Thank you," he whispers and squeezes your hand tight again.

You make an attempt at a comforting touch as you brush over the soot on his cheeks, making a strand of dirty hair dipped in dried blood fall from his forehead. "You want a shower? I can draw you a bath."

He nods again.

"Come on, love," you say quietly and watch as he gulps hard at the sound of the tender pet-name that you've been wanting to call him for months now but haven't had the guts to say out loud until it accidentally slips past your lips. Surprisingly, you're not even embarrassed by yourself. You suppose there are more important things to worry about than an accidental profession of love in a moment of gentle affection.

Bucky seems taken aback too, frozen, and full of wonder, but he shakes it off and lets you pull him to your small bathroom, accepting your fluffiest towel without a word as he continues staring at you.

"I'll be just outside, okay?" you say reassuringly as you turn on the water in your bathtub, making sure it's the right temperature before putting in the drain stopper.

He's still looking at you with huge eyes, flesh arm clutched to his chest while the fluffy white towel gently supports his elbow. You silently wonder if he's hurt but before you can ask him, he speaks.

"Can you... stay?" He asks quietly, biting his inner cheek, unsure if his request is too much.

Still, it's your turn to be taken aback. You and Bucky are close but not like that.

"Stay?" you instinctively furrow your eyebrows, "while you shower?

He immediately clenches his jaw shut and shakes his head while small patches of pink appear on his cheeks underneath all the dirt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, no it's okay," you quickly stand up from your position by the tub spout so you're once again levelled. "- I was just surprised, that's all," you want to smack yourself for making him doubt himself. "Of course I'll stay."

Ice blue irises slowly find yours while the rose tint of his lower lip is being pulled between his teeth. "Are you sure?" he hesitates while sucking in some air, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."

"You're not," you touch your hand to his sternum to underline your words and watches as the crease between his eyebrows slowly reduces as he gradually relaxes under your touch. You can't help but think that even through all the dust and the grime, he looks incredibly beautiful.

"Let me give you some privacy," you unwillingly let go of him and turn away so he can undress in peace.

From behind you, you can hear the ruffle of his tac pants being pushed down his legs before the belt buckle clangs loudly against the tiles of the floor. It's followed by a series of loud painful grunts and hisses a few seconds later.

"Are you okay?" you ask and turn your head to the side, careful not to look directly at him as to not break the trust he put in you when he asked you to stay. "Buck?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," he sighs in embarrassment behind you, "it's just... do you think you could... help me?"

You turn around slowly to find him standing in the middle of the bathroom still wearing his torn t-shirt and Kevlar vest, bare-legged in boxer shorts and black socks pulled high up on his calf while his pants are lying crumbled on the floor beside him. He's awkwardly shifting the weight between his two feet, still clutching his right arm tightly. "It's my elbow."

Immediately, you furrow your eyebrows and walk over to him, taking his right hand in yours. "Yeah, I meant to ask you earlier. What happened?"

He doesn't answer but just silently lets you examine the swelling and black-purple skin that's half-hidden underneath dust and blood.

"Shit," you breathe and hear him give out a sharp hiss when you turn his arm over so you can examine the other side, "Buck, I think your elbow's torn."

"Me too," he gulps, "- I heard it snap."

At the mere thought of the sound, a wave of nausea hits you square in the chest and your stomach starts to churn. You can feel the tang of acid push up on your tongue when you imagine the pain he must've been enduring - still is enduring - but you fight it relentlessly and eventually manage to swallow down the bile. You should be taking care of him, not the other way around.

"We should go down to the infirmary," you say and keep your gaze firmly placed on the purple bruising, so he doesn't notice your discomfort. "I know it probably won't take too long to heal with the serum and all but just to make su-"

"Sweetheart," he gulps from above you and it makes you stop mid-sentence. "Not tonight, okay? I just wanna stay here tonight."

You look up at him, about to protest, but the words quickly die in your throat when you notice the look he's wearing. He's begging. Anxious. Heavy-hearted.

"Okay," you reluctantly agree and carefully let go of his arm while he sends you a grateful look. "Come on, let me help you out of this," you say quietly in defeat and unstrap his vest beneath his ribs, pulling the Kevlar plates over his head while he groans loudly.

"Ah!" he hisses and clutches his elbow tight, squeezing his eyes shut when you try and pull his t-shirt over his head. "Fuck!"

"You good?"

"Mm-hmm" he hums displeased with lips pressed so tightly together they're forming a thin, white line. "Just get it over with."

You pull on the hem again so the dark fabric rides up his stomach, revealing scarred skin pulled tight over the bulging muscles you've spent so many warm summer days discreetly staring at. "Can you reach your arms just a little higher?" you ask and watch how his diaphragm heaves in small electric shocks when he cannot control the loud gasps that escape his throat.

"Fuck me!" He hisses and squeezes his eyes so tightly shut that his entire face pales. "Just rip the damn fabric off," he hisses angrily, "I can't extend my fucking arm."

"Are you sure you don't wanna get it checked out in the med wing?" You let go of his t-shirt and look him deep in the eye, hoping your concerned gaze can convince him that it'll be worth the trip just to get your jumping nerves under control.

"Just... get me out of this thing," he sighs in defeat. "Cut it open, I don't care."

Disinclined, you dive down in the drawer underneath your sink, pulling out a small flat-legged scissor that came with a roll of gauze you bought last year when you had a nasty wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. "Are you sure?" You look up at him as you put the blade underneath the hem of his t-shirt.

Through the fingers you have placed over his chest, you can feel how his pulse quickly falls again when your eyes meet.

"S'just a t-shirt," he mumbles quietly while nodding, "I'm sure..."

Though you want to stay in this position forever, you slowly look away from him and down at your hands as your hesitantly start cutting, careful not to pierce Bucky's flesh with the sharp scissors.

The blade runs through the fabric like a hot knife through butter and you can feel every tense muscle that the edge of the scissors encounters as they travel over his warm stomach and chest. It makes the blood roar in your ears as more and more skin is revealed underneath your fingertips.

Concentrated on not hurting him even more, you keep your gaze firmly placed on his heavily panting chest as you cut open the front of his black shirt and carefully peel the fabric off his bruised arm until he's standing in front of you in nothing but black boxers and socks, his left hand carefully reaching out for yours as if to comfort both of you.

You've seen him bare chested several times before, but it's never been in this close proximity, never been this intimate, just the two of you holding hands and looking each other deep in the eye as you silently try to assure the other that everything is going to be okay.

"So..." you clear your throat, embarrassed by the fact that you have to hold yourself back from leaning forwards, planting a small kiss on his dusty cheek. "- I take it you can shimmy your way out of those on your own, right?" You nod down towards his boxers and he blinks as if he's just woken up from a trance.

"Yeah," he nods and lets go of your hand while the pink patches make a reappearance on his face.

Slowly, you turn around facing the running spout in the tub to the soft sound of cotton hitting the floor behind you. Involuntarily, you give out a gulp and flusteredly grab the box of bath salts just to give your shaking hands something to do. You cannot believe that your extremely fuckable best friend is standing naked in your bathroom no more than two feet away, begging you to stay close to him.

Eyes still firmly placed on the water in the tub, you point over your shoulder to the rainfall shower in the opposite corner of the bathroom. "You wanna rinse off first?"

"I better," Bucky hesitates behind you. "Don't you think?"

"It'll be a much nicer bath if you do," you awkwardly clear your throat.

"Yeah, you're right," he sighs and turns on the shower, immediately stepping inside and closing the glass door behind him so you can finally breathe freely again.

Through the mirror above the sink, you can make out his naked silhouette behind the matte glass and how the tension in his shoulders first tenfolds and then completely disappears the minute the water turns warm and he relaxes. He lets his forehead fall forwards so it's pressed up against the cold tiles while the water runs over his defined shoulders and down his sculpted back, and you literally have to force your eyes away from him and the shape of his handsome torso.

With your gaze fixed firmly on the fuzzy bathmat at the foot of the shower, you hear the sound of your bath gel being opened, followed by a series of painful grunts as Bucky desperately tries to lather himself with the soap.

"Fuck," he mumbles quietly and before you've even voiced a single word of concern, he continues. "Sweetheart, I know it's a lot to ask..." he says a little louder, the embararssement still evident in his voice, "- but I'm gonna need a little help in here... it's - it's this damn elbow," he sighs, "I'm useless. Can you...?" his voice trails off and the question hangs thickly in the air between you.

He wants you to join him.

To wash him.

Take care of him.

The thought alone makes you nervous, you have to admit, but he needs your help and you're willing to do anything for him.

"Give me a minute," you gulp and strip down to your panties, pulling on the bra you wore earlier so you're not completely bare in there. Several times, you've dreamt of you and Bucky naked together, but not like this - never like this - and you'll be damned if the first time he sees you without a shred of clothes is because he needs help and not because he needs you.

With your pyjamas neatly folded on top of the toilet seat cover, you take a final look at yourself in the mirror, brushing your hair out of your eyes before nervously reaching for the shower door with shaking hands.

He's still standing with his chiselled back towards you, letting the water rinse over his dirty hair and down between his shoulder blades with a slightly pinkish hue. "I'm so sorry about this," he mumbles uncomfortably and hands you your loofah behind his back. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Come on, Buck," you say as you dribble a little soap on the sponge, fighting the urge to let your gaze run all the way down to his thick thighs. "Don't beat yourself up, you know I'm always here for you."

"Still," he mumbles and goes silent as the loofah gently runs over his tense shoulders and traces down his spine.

The white soap bubbles work magic on his dirty skin and you make sure not to leave out a single square inch of his scarred backside as you wash him while fighting the urge to wrap your arms around his torso, telling him how glad you are that he not alone came home, but also that he came to you seeking help instead of barricading himself in his room. It seems significant that he's here, as if something's changed between you though you cannot put your finger on it.

Completely lost in thought, you accidentally run the loofah a little too vigorously over his right tricep, sending shockwaves down his broken bone and resulting in a painful hiss falling from his open mouth.

"Sorry," you mumble, and scrub down his lower back, this time more careful with your movements though there aren't any dirty or bloody spots left on either side of his spine. "There we go" you conclude quietly when you realise that the rinsing water has finally lost its pink and grimy hue. "Turn around," you ask and hope he cannot hear the nervousness straining your voice. No matter what, you're not looking down.

Bucky seems just as jittery about his compromising position as you do, and he slowly spins around, revealing pink cheeks and heaving pecs, his gaze glued to the ceiling as he looks as if he's ready to fling himself off the nearest cliff. "God, sweetheart," he mumbles and breathes hard, "I'm so sorry for all this."

"Bucky, come on - what'd I tell you?" you touch the loofah to his chest, careful not to look anywhere than at the sponge itself as it traces over his collar bones and down his handsome stomach.

He merely sighs and stands completely still while you rinse the crevices between the metal plates over his left clavicle, careful not to move his torso so much he hisses in pain again.

"...You're a good friend," he mumbles after a few focused minutes where you've carefully been scrubbing the gold-plated lines in the vibranium, "- I ever tell you that?"

"All the time," you smile genuinely for the first time since he knocked on your door earlier that evening. If there's one thing you can count on, it's that Bucky Barnes appreciates you more than anything.

"I mean it," he says, "never doubt that."

You look up into his eyes.

He looks so soft and innocent as he stands before you, face finally clean, wet hair sticking to his forehead while he professes his love for you. Even if it's just platonic, it makes your heart skip a beat.

"I know, Buck."

"Good," he nods and blinks a few times with heavy, wet lashes framing his cerulean eyes. The air between you is thicker than ever and for a brief moment, it looks as if he's about to lean in and kiss you, but you break the tension by looking away. You don't want to take advantage of his vulnerable state no matter how badly you want that kiss.

"You ready for the tub?" You ask him in a weirdly shaky voice.

He nods while an almost inaudible sigh escapes his lips. "Yeah," he says and turns off the water, quickly exiting the shower before you can take notice of the disappointment burning on his skin.

You dry your feet on the small fuzzy mat, carefully watching Bucky's naked backside as he tests the temperature in the tub by dipping his toe in the water before stepping over the porcelain edge, sitting himself down.

Immediately, he gives out a content sigh, and drapes right arm over his chest, supporting his broken elbow with vibranium fingers, and you finally deem the situation safe enough to approach him again.

"Want me to wash your hair?"

"Mmh" he hums with closed eyes, immediately more relaxed now that he's covered by water. "I don't deserve you."

You grab your shampoo bottle and push out a decent amount of liquid, pressing it to his warm scalp to the sound of an alleviated sigh falling from his lips as you carefully start massaging it into his roots.

"Does that feel good?" you ask through a smile.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he groans quietly, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter awake, "- feels amazing."

You're slowly lathering shampoo into his long hair, enjoying the feel of him underneath your fingertips, how his soft hair slips through your hands while also trying not to think too much about the kiss you robbed yourself of in the shower. You can hear how his breathing slowly steadies and you think that maybe he's in the early stages of sleep but then he unexpectedly heaves a deep breath -

"You know... I haven't been scared of death for a long time," he says so sudden, so seriously that you're immediately brought out of your trance as your every muscle freezes at his austere tone of voice. "I used to not care if I lived or died but... tonight didn't go as planned," he swallows thickly and you can see how his jaw tenses up as his voice becomes husky, "- they... had me."

"What?" you pant with mortification, your every skeletal muscle paralysed as your breathing picks up. You don't have to ask him who he's talking about.

"Sam and I, we were so sure of ourselves," he shakes his head with his gaze fixed on the wall straight ahead. "We thought had the perfect plan... I - I'm such an idiot, nothing ever runs smoothly with Hydra."

You can feel your heart thumping in your throat. "What happened?" You whisper.

"Sam was on the look-out while I got the hard drive," he mumbles, "it was so easy. It didn't even take me five minutes before I was heading back towards the safehouse," he gulps, "- of course it was an ambush. I should have realised the minute I set foot inside that building."

"You couldn't have known," you whimper softly and stroke his scalp, but he doesn't listen.

"- I thought I was..." the words drown in a heavy sigh, and he stares blankly into space while blinking the tears away.

"Buck," you whisper and can feel the pain radiating from every fibre of his entire being when you wrap your arms around his wet torso and hold him close to your chest.

"They took me to a room. Strapped me down," he takes a ragged breath, and you hold on to him even tighter, "I was sure that was it. I never thought I'd find myself home again."

"You're home now," you whisper and softly kiss his shoulder, hoping that he doesn't feel the tear that lands on top of his clavicle. "You're home now with me."

"I know, sweetheart," he leans into your hug with a sigh, "trust me, I know."

"Everything's gonna be alright, love," you whisper against him and stroke your hand over his hair, "it's you and me against the world, always."

"You and me," he quietly confirms and leans back into your chest with a deep breath.

You continue stroking him over the hair, hold on to him for dear life, not willing to let go as you feel him relax more and more in your arms until he starts snoring slightly, finally warm and safe in your embrace.

"Buck, come on," you instinctively kiss him right below his ear, "you're sleeping. Let's get you into bed."

"Sorry," he mumbles groggily and lets his head fall back against your shoulder. "m'just so fucking tired. Been up thirty-six hours..."

"We'll talk tomorrow," you kiss him again and unwillingly unwrap yourself from around his chest, standing up straight beside him. "I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

He's looking up at you with puppy eyes, gaze slowly travelling down your body and up again as if he hadn't realised you were in your lingerie until that exact moment. "You look beautiful," he says quietly and you half-expect him to laugh it off, but his face stays serious.

"...Thanks," you croak while handing him the fluffy towel, not sure how to react to his sweet words. He's called you many things, but he's never downright called you beautiful before.

"I can take it from here, sweetheart," he nods slowly and steals one last glance down at your body, "you just go to bed. I'll be in in a minute."

"Okay," you whisper and peel yourself away from the tension between you by swiftly turning around, exiting the bathroom.

Back in your room, you barely have time to get out of your wet underwear and put on a fresh set of pyjamas, before a boxer-clad Bucky joins you on the bed.

"Are you still okay with me staying the night?" He asks, nervously.

"Of course I am," you answer immediately and find his vibranium hand underneath the covers, lacing your fingers between his as you scan his weary features. "See if you can get some sleep, okay? You need it," you brush a strand of wet hair away from his face and make sure he's fine by gently cupping his cheek before closing your eyes, hoping he's following your lead, doing the same.

The dark room goes completely quiet for a few minutes where the only audible sound is of your synchronised breathing.

You can feel yourself grow impossibly tired too as you lie there hand in hand with Bucky, and you're just about to succumb to sleep, when suddenly, his quiet whisper breaks the silence.

"I thought about you," he says softly, and it makes you open your eyes again.

You're staring straight into his handsome face, his beautiful blue eyes scanning over your features as he slowly clarifies.

"When they had me strapped down, I thought about you," he moves his fingers against the palm of your hand and completely engulfs you. "The thought of not seeing you again was..." the words die in his throat, and he looks as if he's seconds away from whimpering. "- Sweetheart, you make me so afraid of dying."

You breathe hard with quivering lips, huge eyes matching his as you let his confession sink in.

"I was so desperate to come home, I snapped the restraints in half. Snapped my own elbow along with them," he winces slightly at the painful memory that once again makes your stomach churn. "Sweetheart, I fought like hell. I don't think I've ever been so angry... I - I killed everyone I could get my hands on, I just had to see you again," he brings your hand to his soft lips and kisses the delicate pulse point of your wrist.

"Buck..." a slow whine escapes your throat as you try to blink away a stubborn tear that slowly starts rolling down the side of your nose.

"I love you," he whispers so softly against your thin skin that you almost don't hear. His eyes are closed and he looks relieved to be lying here with you, so you carefully pull his hand to your chest, placing his vibranium palm above your heavily beating heart.

"I love you too."

"Sweetheart," he whispers above you and moves his hand a little on top of your soft pyjamas while lightly shaking his head with a sigh. "No, you don't understand..." he gulps and searches your face, "I love you."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"- I want more than this," he slowly admits. "I want to be more than your friend. I'm in love with you."

You squeeze his hand and move a little closer to him, scared that he'll stop confessing his love if you say something to throw him off track.

He holds on to you and can feel how your pulse starts racing underneath your pyjamas. "I hope I'm not scaring you off."

"No, no you're not," you say in a hoarse voice, "not at all. I - I think about you all the time."

"You do?" He breathes hard, clearly not believing what he's hearing.

"Yeah," you merely nod and move your head a little closer to him while he does the same. "I'm in love with you too, Buck. Have been for quite some time."

With a serious look, he moves his hand from off your chest and up to your face where he brushes a finger over the delicate features of your cheekbone and down to your jawline. "I'm gonna kiss you now," he warns in a whisper and waits for you to give him a nod before he reaches his head forwards, finally claiming your mouth with his lips.

His hand snakes down the length of your spine and you press your entire front up against his hard chest and stomach while he caresses the small of your back, slipping his soft tongue inside your mouth. "God," he moans and gently grabs hold of your hips, pulling you impossibly close to him. "You make me feel whole again," he whispers against your skin and kisses a small line from your earlobe and down to the base of your clavicle. "What do you say sweetheart?" he mumbles and nibbles at your skin, "can I take you out?"

"Yeah, Buck, you can take me out," you squeeze his hand, and he smiles for the first time that evening, setting everything inside of you aflame.

He's finally smiling and it's because of you.

"I wanna do it the old-fashioned way," he says, beaming, "bring you flowers. Take you dancing. Show you how you're supposed to be treated."

You can't help but chuckle at his soft innocence. "You're an old man," you brush him over his hair, "nobody goes dancing anymore."

"I'll teach you," he chuckles back but lets it turn into a sharp hiss when he accidentally moves his broken elbow.

"That sounds lovely," you admit with a smile, excited at the prospect of having his hands on your hips while he tells you what to do, "- though I'm afraid we'll have to get that elbow sorted first if you want to manoeuvre me around on the dancefloor. I know you don't see the point in going but... med wing tomorrow morning?"

"Okay," he rolls his eyes with a laugh that makes your stomach go all warm and fuzzy. "If it gets me to go dancing with you just an hour earlier, it's worth the trip... Will you go with me?"

"Yeah, I'll go with you," you kiss his hand, and he chuckles so warmly your stomach lights up again. "I'll go with you always."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes hurt/comfort #bucky barnes friends to lovers

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imtryingbuck · 3 months

Text

Fifteen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 4,736

Warnings: fluff, angst, heavy use of pet names. Bucky and y/n argue and that’s a warning in itself. Brock rumlow, Bucky being a bad friend. Swearing. Bullying.

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Like every morning she waited outside for Bucky, Steve and Sam to arrive so they could all walk to school together. Y/n was so excited when she found out that she was going to be going to school with her two friends, though she was a year below them.

Sam was the boys’ friend first and when he was introduced to Y/n he instantly became her friend, throwing his arm around her he winked at her causing the girl to blush. Bucky wasn’t happy.

Sighing she checked her watch, the same one Bucky had brought her for her birthday last year, they was late.

She didn’t want to be in trouble for being late so she decided to head off on her own, as she pulled her bag further up her shoulder she kept her head down whilst walking the streets.

“Y/n! Y/n slow down!” Sam’s booming voice came from behind her.

“I can’t I’m going to be late!” She shouted back to him.

“H-hold on, Jesus woman you’re making me run today aren’t you?”

Feeling his arms wrap themselves around her waist she comes to a halt. “Where’s Ducky?”

“Ah he, never mind. Steve hurry up!”

“Sam where is he? Is he ill? Oh god he is isn’t he?”

“No Sugar he’s not, he’s just not walking with us this morning”

“Hey Y/n/n” Steve panted as he pulls his friend into a hug.

“Hi Stevie where’s Ducky?”

“With Dot”

“Dude!” Sam scolded.

“Wh-who’s Dot?”

“His girlfriend” Steve admits rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry”

“H-he has a girlfriend? Oh”

She couldn’t understand why her heart hurt at hearing that.

“If it makes you feel any better, me and Sam don’t like her”

“I want to go to school now”

Throughout her lessons she couldn’t find it in herself to concentrate, he had a girlfriend and didn’t tell her - why didn’t he tell her? Was she pretty? Did she know who she was? Was they going to be friends still?

“-Y/n!”

“Huh? Sorry Sir”

“Class is over…go”

“Right sorry Sir, see you tomorrow”

Shoving all her things into her school bag she heads down to wait outside the cafeteria for the boys to show. Like that morning she checks her watch and sighing, they’re late.

Her stomach growled and giving up waiting for them to show she heads into the cafeteria when she comes to a stop.

They were already there, sat at the table that was unofficially reserved for the four of them.

Her eyes watered at seeing a brunette sat in her place, next to her Ducky. She watched as he threw his arm around her and pulled her into him just like he always did to her. She watched as Sam and Steve laugh about something the girl said.

“Ow, I’m sorry” she stutters out after she’s pushed over.

“Move out of the way freak” Brock. The schools bully. Or as Y/n called him behind his back ‘Brock the rock’ no it wasn’t a compliment at his muscles but an insult, Brock rhymed with rock and rocks where dumb just like Brock.

“I-I’m sorry” she stutters as she tries to move out of the way.

“Aw you going to cry you little freak?” He says loudly catching everyone’s attention.

“N-no-“

“I think she is Brock” laughed Jack, another bully who followed Brock wherever he went.

“The little freak is going to cry!” Brock boomed causing her to flinch.

He takes it one step further by pushing her in to Jack who then shoves her away violently back to Brock, back and forth she was pushed between the two.

Y/n’s frantic eyes met Bucky’s who had been watching the whole thing along with everyone else. She nearly burst out crying when all he did was look down.

“Looks like your little boyfriend isn’t coming to the rescue this time freak” Brock whispers as he clutches her shirt tightly in his grip just before pushing her roughly onto the ground.

She waits until Brock and his lackeys leave before standing up, looking up towards the table she’s normally sat at with her friends her heart breaks when she sees the back of Bucky’s head and Steve and Sam looking down at their food.

Running out of the cafeteria she runs to the bathroom where she locks herself away until the loud shrill of the bell goes off.

Throughout the day she was glad she didn’t see any of the boys or Brock and Jack as she moved from one class to the next. Stuck in her own mind she couldn’t understand why neither one of her friends stuck up for her like they’ve done before whenever Brock was acting tough now that Tony had left school.

Were they my friends now? Why didn’t Bucky tell me he had a girlfriend? Why didn’t Steve and Sam stick up for me?

They were some of the many questions that swirled around her head as her last teacher Mr Levinson droned on.

When the bell rang throughout the school she took her time in packing her things, waiting for everyone to leave.

“Y/n?”

“Yes sir?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes sir, why?”

“Well you’re normally the first one out of the class” he chuckles.

“Oh. No everything’s okay sir” she smiled up at him as she brought the strap of her bag up her arm.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow remember you’ve got me for two periods”

“I know sir, I’ll see you tomorrow” waving bye to her favourite teacher she walks out of the class, slowly walking to the entrance. Like Mr Levinson said she was normally the first one out of class, and normally she was running through the halls to wait outside for the boys to arrive so they could head to the sweet shop on the corner of Main Street but today she was in no rush, no rush in seeing the spot she always waited at to being empty.

As she stepped out of the doors she felt stupid for hoping that they would have waited for her, they hadn’t.

As she walked past the sweet shop she heard Sam’s loud laughter filter through the gap in the door, her heart pounding loudly in her chest as she saw Sam, Steve and Bucky all laughing in the store, she swore her heart broke when she saw Bucky grab ahold of the brunettes hand from lunch and pulling her to place his lips to hers. Y/n brought her fingers to her lips softly touching them wondering how the girl in the store felt kissing Bucky.

Shaking her head and wiping her tears she walks off before any of them sees her.

“Hello angel-angel what’s wrong?” Howard asks when she walks in and straight pass him without saying hello or telling him how her day went, or better yet without her handing him her packet full to the brim of sweets so he could pick one - or if she was letting him feel cheeky two - out.

“Nothing dad I’m going to do my homework”

“Angel come here, or don’t I’ll just follow you” he mutters following her upstairs and into her room.

“Dad, please I just want to do my homework and go to sleep”

“Not until you tell me what’s happened? You’re not normally back yet, is Lloyds closed?”

“No. I-I just really need to get this homework done”

“Where’s the boys?”

“I-dad please”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on? You seem to forget angel I know you and I know something is wrong, so spill”

“Duc-Bucky has a girlfriend…”

“Oh…oh. I’m sorry angel”

“It’s okay, I just don’t have any friends anymore” she shrugs, looking at the photograph she had hanging up on her wall. Her, Bucky, Sam and Steve standing in front of the stall at the fair ground, Bucky’s arm wrapped around her waist as her hand was on his chest. All four of them smiling widely at the camera as Maria takes the photo.

“Of course you’ll still have friends angel, the boys will still be your friends”

“No they won’t. Steve and Sam were friends with Bucky before they were my friends”

“Bucky’s still you friend darling just because he has a girlfriend doesn’t mean shit-don’t tell your mother I just swore in front of you”

“I won’t” she giggles.

“Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”

She hadn’t found the courage to tell her parents about the bullying or how bad it was, knowing how they would react she didn’t want to make it any worse than it already was.

“No dad everything’s okay I promise”

“Okay…well tomorrow is Friday and you know what that means don’t you? That’ll prove that the boys are still your friends”

Shortly after Howard leaves so she could start her homework. Not that she does it.

Friday, tomorrow is Friday. Every weekend her, Steve and Sam heads to Bucky’s house for a sleepover. Was she still invited? Was Bucky’s girlfriend going to be there?

Her head pounded and her eyes stung so she climbed into bed falling asleep as her stomach growled in hunger it only then occurred to her that she hadn’t ate anything since breakfast, it didn’t stop her from falling into a restless sleep.

The next morning she moved along with the motions. Getting dressed, brushing her hair and teeth, eating breakfast, she puts her shoes on pressing a kiss to her parents their cheeks she says her goodbyes.

She hesitates outside whether she should wait for the boys to show or not she finally forces her legs to move, she wasn’t going to be waiting on them. Not anymore.

“Oi freak!” Brock shouted as he walks across the road to where she was, she carried on walking keeping her head down.

“Freak don’t ignore him” Jack says.

She felt hands on her back before she was shoved down on to the ground scraping her hands and her knees. “W-what do you want?”

“Your lunch”

“No”

“What?” Don’t ask her Brock she’s just as shocked as you at her sticking up for herself.

“I said no, are you deaf?” Shut up shut up shut up her brain screams at her.

“Funny, don’t worry freak you’re going to regret this” Brock says before picking her bag up and throwing it over a fence.

Watching the pair walk off she stands up and looks down at her knees, great they’re bleeding. Opening the gate she walks over to the door and knocks, waiting patiently she waits for the owner to open up.

“Hello?”

“Hi Sir, my bag got thrown over your fence could I please get it?”

“Sure…”

“It’s over that fence” she points at the wooden fence that leads to the backyard she assumes.

“Oh, yeah sure hold on I’ll get the key” he walks back inside and returns quickly with the key “are you okay?”

“Yes Sir, are you?”

“I’m fine but I’m talking about your knees and hands, they’re bleeding”.

“Bullies Sir”

“Oh, nasty little parasites aren’t they?”

“Yes Sir” she giggles “thank you Sir” she says as he hands over her bag back to her.

“You’re welcome and hey listen don’t let them get to you okay? It will get better soon I can promise you that”

“H-how do you know?”

“I was bullied when I was at school but here I am owning a business that continues to grow even long after I’ve retired” he smiles softly.

“Wow, I-I don’t know why they pick on me I’ve never done anything wrong to them”

“Because they see the potential in you and they are scared because they haven’t gotten any so they spend their time and energy trying to bring you down”

“Oh, well I wish they would stop”

“They will you just have to wait them out”

“Thank you Sir, I best get going I’m…crap I’m late”

“Go go, and call me Stan”

“Y/n, bye Mr Stan”

“Well it’s actually Mr Lee but go your late” the older man chuckles.

“I’m going I’m going” she laughs waving at him.

Practically running to school she runs to her class “I’m sorry Miss”

“It’s okay Y/n just make sure it doesn’t happen again”

“It won’t Miss I promise”

Ms Ford was an older teacher who taught maths whether it’s because of her age or because of how long she had been teaching for she simply didn’t care if you was late or not, as long as you didn’t cause any trouble then it was fine.

When the bell rang signalling for it to be lunch she slowly moved towards the bathroom so she could eat, on her way there she saw two of Brock’s friends walking towards her before she had a chance to do anything they grabbed her arms and dragged her backwards, leading her into the cafeteria.

No one blinks an eye or tries to help her out.

She’s shoved onto her knees in front of Brock, she shifts and in the corner of her eye she sees Bucky, Steve and Sam all staring.

“This little freak had the balls to talk back to me this morning and well I can’t let that happen” he told everyone. “Stand the freak up”

She’s roughly pulled up by her arms “did you all know that her dad killed her mom? Or that this little freak was in an orphanage?” He laughs.

“Shut up Brock” she says, mentally slapping herself for talking back.

“Ooh the freak speaks once again. Hey Bucky doesn’t this dog belong to you?” She’s spun around so she has no choice but to look at him, who once again just stares down.

“No? Not going to say anything? Wow some friend you are” Brock chuckles. “Hey guys want to see what she’s hiding under her shirt? My mom was a nurse who had to touch this freak”

Y/n’s eyes widen and she starts to struggle against the hold that the two boys had on her arms. “No no no Brock I’m sorry I’m sorry you don’t have to do this! I’m sorry”

Ignoring her pleads he just smirks at her “hold her steady boys”

“Brock stop!” Steve says shakily from the table.

“Shut up or your next. Stop struggling freak”

“Please s-stop! Please-D-Ducky help! No no no no no please no” she screams out as Brock rips her shirt off leaving her scarred back exposed to nearly the whole school.

“Disgusting isn’t it?” Brock laughs.

The murmurs and laughters are drowned out by the roaring of blood filling her ears, the moment she’s dropped to the ground she wraps her hands over her chest and runs out of the cafeteria and out of the school. Her vision was blurred as she ran faster than she’s ever ran before.

“Y/n-oh my lord, come here darling” an older voice says that she recognised from earlier.

“M-m-Mr Stan”

“I’m not going to hurt you, I’m going to put my coat around you okay?” As soon as the material was around her she collapsed into his arms.

“Darling le-let’s get you into the car and I’ll take you home okay?”

Everything moves in a blur, she doesn’t even realise that Mr Stan pulls up to her house or that he’s knocking on the door talking to her father or that her father comes rushing out of the house.

“Angel, angel come here”

“D-Dada” she cries clinging to him.

Howard lifts her out of the car and takes her into the house calling out for Maria who comes out of the kitchen. He takes her upstairs to her room where he lays her gently on the bed his heart breaking at the way she still clings on to him.

Leaving Maria to help Y/n get dressed and clean her injuries up he heads down the stairs to where Stan was still waiting.

“Come with me Stan” leading the older man into his office “what happened?”

“I met her this morning when she knocked on my door a bully had thrown her bag over my fence, we spoke a little before she left for school”

“A bully? Y/n’s being bullied?”

“So she says Sir”

“Howard, you know this Stan. Anyway carry on”

“Well I was driving home when she ran out into the road clutching…covering her chest. Her top half was naked. I got out and put my coat around her and brought her home”

“D-Did she say anything?”

“No, she just cried”

“Thank you for bringing her home Stan, here here’s some money” Howard pulls out a huge wad of money from the draw of his desk.

“Howard, I don’t want your money son. She’s a sweet girl who doesn’t deserve half of the shit she’s gone through”

“Yo-you know?”

“Well…yes. She was in the newspapers. Just make sure she’s okay for me, I’ll see myself out goodbye Howard”

“Y/n, angel please talk to us” Howard pleads as he sits next to Maria on Y/ns bed.

“I-it doesn’t matter”

“Of course it does sweetie, we need to deal with this” Maria speaks softly.

“I’m a freak! My back is disgusting. I-I should of died when my real dad tried to kill me”

Taken back by her confession Maria clutches her chest with shaky hands, Howard stutters trying to find the right words.

“A-Angel you don’t mean that”

“I do. I’m tired of being bullied, I’ve tried dad to make friends I have I swear but nobody wants to be friends with a freak. I don’t get why they call me names or steal my lunch or push me into things. I hate going to school. I hate Sam. I hate Steve. An-and I hate James. I hate my life, I wish I was dead” a shuddering breath leaves her lips as her whole body trembles.

She didn’t mean to tell them about the bullying or about how she hated her friends because even though they didn’t talk to her or stick up for her she didn’t hate them, they were her only friends.

She definitely didn’t mean to tell them how she wished she was dead.

“Y/n Stark you take that back!” Maria scolds.

“No! And let’s be honest mom the only reason you two adopted me was out of pity and because George probably asked you too just so James could keep me around” her voice raised and shook, mentally scolding herself for saying that because now she had to sit there and watch as the tears gathered in her mommas eyes.

“Is-is that what you really think?”

“It wasn’t pity that we felt when we adopted you Y/n, it was because I genuinely believed that you had a very special place in our family and I still believe that even after all these years. George never asked us to take you in.” Howard speaks.

“I-I-oh momma I’m so sorry! Dada I swear I didn’t mean it” she cries her eyes bouncing from one parent to the next.

“Angel, it’s okay. Oh sweetheart come here” Howard opens his arms waiting for his daughter to climb into them, rubbing his hand up and down her back not flinching or feeling disgusted when he feels the scars under her shirt.

“I’m sorry” she repeats over and over.

“Sweetheart we love you and just because you’re not biologically ours doesn’t make a difference, you are our daughter through and through” Maria says softly wiping the tears that fall onto her cheeks.

“I-I don’t want to go to school anymore momma please don’t make me go back”

“We’ll talk about it later okay? Get some sleep and we’ll talk about everything” Maria promises watching as she nods and climbs back into bed.

A few hours later after Maria had managed to calm down Howard who was quite literally on a war path there was a knock on the door, Maria walked over to the door opening it she saw Sam and Steve standing there with sheepish looks on their faces.

“What are you two doing here?”

“W-we want to see Y/n, is-is she okay?”

“She is now. Where is James?”

“With Dot…”

“Charming. I don’t think Y/n will want to see you tonight, please leave”

“Miss Maria we’re really sorry, please tell Y/n that.”

“I will do. Goodbye boys”

Watching as the boys walk away with their tails in between their legs she shakes her head, she hates turning them away but when it comes to her daughter she’ll do everything to protect her, even if it’s from her friends.

The next day Y/n woke with a pounding headache, the memories of what she had said to her parents made her stomach hurt. She hated herself for making her mom cry, seeing the hurt flash in her parents eyes made her want to burst out crying.

She never wanted her parents to find out that she was being bullied afraid it made her look weak, made her look like she needed them to save her again. She wanted to be strong just like Tony, be the social butterfly just like her brother instead of being social outcast that she was.

Y/n had tried to fit in she really did, she tried to be someone that she wasn’t. She found it hard to be around the other girls who were interested in make up, the latest fashion and boys, none of them things she cared about.

Okay maybe she was interested in boys she noticed them obviously, especially one in particular. Bucky.

But sadly that didn’t matter anymore, not now that he had a girlfriend.

Y/n preferred the simpler things that life had to offer, she never cared for all pretty dresses her mom would get her or all of the expensive things her dad would give her. She preferred getting mud all over her, climbing trees, talking to the animals she encountered. Her hair was always messy and nine out of ten times her hair would have leaves tangled in it. Her clothes would have grass stains on them from where she would either roll around in the grass or from where she would kneel down getting closer to the insects she came upon.

She never truly understood why the other kids called her a freak, maybe she was but that didn’t matter right? She had a heart and feelings and she was just the same as everyone else.

“Angel, James is here to see you” Howard knocks on her bedroom door pulling her out of her trance.

Might as well as get this over and done with.

“Let him in dad”

“I’m just downstairs if you need me angel”

“Okay”

She sits up so she’s leaning against the headboard, twisting her ring that her dad had gotten her when she had gotten an A on a test. She watches as the door handle goes down a little bit and the door comes open revealing her Ducky.

“Hi Bun-Y/n” he says shyly as he shuffles in to the room, his eyes roaming everywhere other than on her.

“Hi”

“H-how are you feeling?”

“You’re joking right?” She scoffs.

“I-I’m sorry about yesterday, I should of done something to stop Brock”

“But you didn’t and I was humiliated in front of the whole entire school.”

“I know. Y-you didn’t come to mine last night and when I found out that Sam and Steve was turned away by your mom I kind of gotten worried”

“You expected me to show up after none of you said anything to stop Brock? After you didn’t wait for me at lunch or how you and the boys went to Lloyds without me?”

Rubbing the back of his neck he shifted on the spot “well yeah, we’re friends Bu-Y/n”

“You can’t even say the name you gave me when you was seven. Why is that?”

“Dot doesn’t like it”

“Dot being your girlfriend?”

“Yeah…”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you had one?”

“Be-because I didn’t want you to get jealous”

“You thought I would get jealous?”

“Well yeah, you are aren’t you?”

“Give me a second, just wait there” she says as she stands up on shaky legs, moving around him she heads downstairs to the living room where her parents sat “momma, dada can I please swear? I won’t do it again I promise”

“Of course princess” Howard grins before Maria could say anything.

She runs back upstairs and walks around Bucky who still stands there. “Are you fucking out of your mind? You honestly thought I was jealous? I would have been happy for you!”

“Did you just ask your parents if you could swear?” Bucky grins finding it amusing.

“Don’t grin at me Ducky, I swear to God I will hit you!”

“You can’t call me that anymore Y/n, Dot hates it especially after you called it me yesterday”

“Fuck Dot! I’ve been your friend since I was six years old Ducky! You want me to be different with you now that you have a girlfriend?”

“Bunny-shit Y/n. Please just stop calling me it okay it’s embarrassing, we’re to old now to keep calling each other them silly nicknames”

“I-we-what? Duc-“

“Y/n.”

“Fine. James are you really going to be choosing her someone you’ve been dating for all of five minutes over me? Someone you’ve know for years?”

“Yes.”

“W-what?”

“I’m choosing her over you.”

“A-are we no longer friends?”

“Will you grow up and stop acting like a freak?” He says instantly slamming his mouth shut, regret seeping into his veins when he sees her the pain flash across her eyes.

“What did you just call me?”

“I-I didn’t mean it-“

“What did you just call me James”

“Bun-“

“I’m not going to fucking ask again James!”

“A freak” he gulps.

“Fuck you. Get the fuck out of my house and out of my fucking life!”

“Bun-“

“You’re not allowed to call me that anymore, remember? Your bitch of a girlfriend won’t like it oh and we’re not fucking friends anymore! Now leave!”

“Don’t call Dot a-“

“She’s a bitch. A big fat stinking bitch! And guess what James, so are you.”

“Brock’s right, you are a freak. A freak with no friends. And guess what Y/n, I never wanted to be your friend I just felt sorry for you. Your father beat you and killed your mother so of course I felt sorry for you, did you really think I wanted to be friends with you? News flash I didn’t!” He shouts, once he calmed down from his outburst he struggles to breathe “Y/n I’m-I’m sor-“

“I hate you. If you don’t leave right now I’ll get my dad up here, I’m not joking James. Get out I hate you so much I can’t believe I actually thought I loved you. Now fuck off.”

“I-I’m sorry”

“Shove your sorry up your arse and fuck right off bye bye”

She turns her back on him and waiting until she heard him leave, she had always thought that he became her friend because he felt sorry for her but she didn’t want to believe it, now she knew the truth she didn’t know what to do with herself.

Hearing the front door shut she burst out crying, she fell to her knees clutching her chest. She felt her heart had been ripped out of her chest and stomped on a million times.

“Oh my sweet baby, it’s okay I’ve got you” Maria hold her daughter as she breaks down.

“M-Momma it hurts”

“I know it does sweetheart. Let it all out baby”

“I-I don’t want to be here anymore momma”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to go to a private school like you and dada said befo-before I went to school with them”

Maria looks over at Howard who stands at the doorway with his jaw clenched so tightly that Maria thought he was going to shatter his teeth.

“Are you sure angel?”

“Yes I’m sure dada, please I won’t ask for anything else ever again!”

“I’ll set it up angel”

Bucky had no idea that when he woke up that morning that he was going to lose his best friend but he only had himself to blame.

He had lost the most important person in his life all because he fucked up.

He had said the most vilest things to her which was not in any way true.

He had lost his Bunny.

Tags: @cjand10 @unaxv @mcira @bisexualnikkisixx @kneelforloki @kandis-mom @sagebarness @sandyruston @scott-loki-barnes @nikkivillar @saltedcoffeescotch @scentedharmonymiracle @examinarei @sarcastickiddo @sadboiabby @unholyhuntress @8crazy-freak8 @ijustneedpopcorn @moonbeampillgoth @imcinnamoons @elmo-1066 @violetwinterwidow01 @suz7days @adoredire @ozwriterchick @randomrosie01 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @emerald-writes @justafangir1 @sibsteria @spencerreidisagorgman @sapphirebarnes @bruher

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barns x y/n #Through The Years #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #marvel fic #Bucky Barnes series #bucky barnes angst #bucky series #bucky Barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #James barnes #james barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes friends to lovers

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lovelybarnes · 1 year

Text

Flirting and Football- B. Barnes

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader Warnings: past assault of reader, as slow burn as i can, au so bucky is different although i tried to not make him so ooc, sort of enemies to lovers?, genuinely can’t remember anymore, crappy writing in the beginning because i started writing this a year ago but i swear it gets better i promise About: request!! Bucky barnes and a college au where reader is the only one who isn’t interested in him basically

The end of your pen rests between your lips, unused as you scan the textbook page in front of you, your eyes thinning occasionally as you read. Your study partner’s book lays open in front of her, ten pages behind, and notebook adorned with two sole words.

She’s reciting the events of a date she went on yesterday or the day before, although admittedly, you’d only caught detached words for the past double-digit minutes. Your careful attention had dwindled down to nods as you subtly tapped at your notebook, then not-so-subtly and finally disappeared altogether as you made miscellaneous noises.

You hum along now, eyes flickering from your notes to the material as you annotate pages with bright sticky notes.

She doesn’t seem to notice your disinterest, gushing about arms and hair, and the kiss that changed her life. The words don’t last too long in your mind, too cluttered with equations and vocabulary to make space for them.

“The girls told me he goes on a lot of dates but I can just tell I’m the one.”

You glance at your open computer, frowning at the slimming battery life, and purse your lips at the time. Sighing softly, you meet Quinn’s glazed eyes, offering her a tight smile you hope is somewhat believable.

“Is he in psychology too?” you ask, tapping on the notes the both of you were supposed to start when she began talking.

“Bucky? Oh no,” she laughs, the finger twirling her red hair pulling away to wave her hand dismissively. “He’s in sports or something. He's on the soccer team, you know.”

You nod. “Wow.”

“I know, oh my god.” She fans herself. “Did I tell you he basically won the last game?”

Probably. You duck your chin, highlighting a sentence. “Isn’t it a group effort?”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “Well, yeah, but he scored the winning goal.”

“Okay then,” you agree, deciding that you can finish your notes at your dorm. “I didn’t go to the last game, so what do I know?”

Quinn’s eyes go wide. “You didn’t go?” she exclaims, and you shush her, confirming. “Why?”

You shrug. “I had to do something.”

“You have to go to the next one tomorrow and see him in action. But don’t fall in love,” she warns with a giggle. “He’s mine.”

“Promise,” you reply hollowly, shutting your laptop. “Well, I have to go. This was helpful, though,” you lie.

“Oh, yeah, totally. I have to go too, rest up for the big game tomorrow. Gotta be there early to support Bucky,” Quinn informs. You stack your books to carry them back to your dorm.

“Right,” you respond, standing. “I hope everything goes well with him,” you say as you walk out.

She shoots you a big grin and a nod, her face bright as she agrees.

It’s cold when you step through the doors, bouncing on your feet and hugging your things closer to your chest as you begin to walk toward your dorm. You move to pull out your phone from your back pocket, quickly unlocking it to get to your contacts list. You press on Bruce’s contact and listen to the two beeps until he picks up.

“I hate you so much right now,” you greet, cutting his cheery hello off.

“What? What did I do?”

“‘I’ll be there!’ ‘How could I miss studying physics?’” you mock, imitating his voice. “You left me there, and I was stuck listening to Quinn's monologue about how the quarterback or whatever is the love of her life!”

“What quarterback?” Bruce asks.

“Does it matter? Honestly?” you rebut, taking care to watch your surroundings as you bully your friend. “Your quarterback wouldn’t cheat on you so I’m assuming it’s one that’s not Thor.”

“Okay, okay, I know. I’m sorry about ditching you. Thor and I just finished, we can come by and pick you up at the library. And Thor is a defender. Different sport entirely.”

“Whatever and ew,” you complain. “And I’m already on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“What? I told you to not walk home alone. Just wait for me.”

“Don’t worry. The dorm isn’t that far and you’re not exactly the most threatening anyway,” you remind. “I’ll be fine. ”

“Fine. Keep me on the line and be careful,” Bruce tells you.

“Of course,” you quip. A pause drapes over the two of you, the silence only interrupted by the steady sound of your footsteps on the concrete. You turn, leaves crunching underneath your shoes and you can practically hear Bruce relax somewhat, knowing that you’re nearby. You put him on speaker to hear better. “How’d it go with Thor today?”

“Really good.” The golden thread of happiness threaded through Bruce’s words comes through clear and clean. You can imagine him as he talks into the phone, glancing at Thor to make sure he can’t hear as he plays with his fingers. “I’m really sorry for leaving you there.”

“You’re not,” you amend. “But it’s fine. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I am,” Bruce confirms.

“I don’t know how you find the time to juggle everything. It’s kind of terrifying,” you laugh, expecting him to tease you back, but his answer comes back honest.

“I know you think of boyfriends and whatever as distractions, but it’s the opposite. It’s not juggling if I have help carrying everything.”

You push your tongue against your cheek, listening to the rustling of the trees. You grab your keys as you arrive at your dorm door. “I’m here.”

“Finally.” You roll your eyes, opening the door to see your roommate and her brother inside.

“Hey Wanda, Piet.”

Wanda smiles at you and Pietro winks before greeting Bruce through your phone.

“Okay, Bruce, are we studying tomorrow?” you ask him, balancing your things in your arms. When Pietro notices, he stands, taking your books from you and setting them down on your table. You thank him and pat his arm.

“Before the game? Sure,” he replies. You take him off speaker, pulling your phone to your ear, not noticing that the mention of the game has caught Pietro and Wanda's attention.

“You’re going?” you question. “I thought Thor was benched.”

“He’s off!” There’s a whoop you recognize as Thor’s that makes you smile. “Which is why it’s an important game we need to go to.”

“We?” you echo.

“We as in you and I,” Bruce verifies.

“Wait, I have to go too? Why?” you whine.

Pietro cuts in, “You have to go! How will we win without our lucky charm?”

You purse your lips and squint at him. “Didn’t you guys win last game?”

“Still! Come on, please,” he insists. Wanda joins in, offering to bake you cookies.

You search your brain for excuses. “I have things to do.”

“If it’s not ‘stay home and binge a series,’ I'll let you skip,” Bruce chimes.

You frown as the siblings grin.

“Yeah, you’re going,” Bruce declares. “They’re not that bad and you know it. Besides, Thor wants you to braid his hair. You know my fingers always get tangled.”

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically. “But I want it noted that it’s only because I really like cookies.” You focus on Wanda, who nods enthusiastically. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Bruce repeats your words before you hang up, and at the click, you let yourself fall on your couch.

Wanda kisses your head and pats your shoulder comfortingly. “It’s going to be fun.”

“Standing in the middle of students I don’t know as they yell at a ball does not sound fun to me,” you disagree, but she ignores you.

“Even Vis is going,” she argues. “And you know how excited Thor gets when you braid his hair.”

You mutter incoherently.

“We’ll leave at three,” she instructs with a smile.

“I could be doing so many useful things right now,” you hiss at Bruce, remembering the half-written essay you have saved on your laptop, a string of frustratedly typed letters highlighted and waiting to be replaced with something coherent typed just beneath it.

Bruce had made you leave just as you began to taste the word you were looking for, assuring you that going out to see a game would somehow give your fried mind the jolt it needed. With little argument and the promise you’d committed to with a hook of your pinkie, you’d sighed and shut your laptop, leaving your apartment early to see the team before the game.

You could recognize some faces thanks to Pietro forcing you out to a few team celebrations and the occasional game you never paid much attention to. Although he’d laid off a while ago when Bruce and Thor started dating, your best friend had dragged you to every soccer-related event he didn’t want to go to alone. Pietro never minded your absence as much as Bruce did, always satisfied as long as you celebrated or consoled him afterward.

The word you’d been wracking your brain for suddenly comes to mind when you sit next to Bruce on a bench, pulling your phone out of your pocket to note it down, not noticing when the entire soccer team begins to leave the locker room, spilling into the hall where you’re slumped with your best friend.

Thor bellows your name excitedly when he spots you both, heading over. You glance up to give him a smile, quickly continuing to type the stray thoughts you’d been trying to catch when he turns, an extravagant arm extending as if to present you to the few guys with him. “This is the lovely lady I told you all about. She is very smart.”

You laugh at his introduction, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “Thank you, Thor.”

“Of course! And you all know Bruce, of course.”

There are chimes of agreement and greetings for your friend, a few of the players coming up to you. Pietro arrives first, as always, and pecks your forehead. “I, for one, am very glad you came to cheer us on.”

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” another says, huge and blonde, but his features are softened by an open grin. “I’m Steve.” He juts a finger at the brunet next to him, his hair tied up into a neat little bun at the nape of his neck, blue eyes shining as they observe you. “That’s Bucky.”

You smile at them, nodding. “Nice to meet you. I’ve actually heard a lot.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. “Really?”

You stare at him blankly, opening and closing your mouth like a fish. “I meant Steve.” Steve looks startled. “I saw his work when I was volunteering at the art show last month. It was great, I actually bought the piece with the lilies!”

“Oh.” Bucky blinks blankly, tongue poking into his cheek before he clears his throat and manages a lift of the left edge of his lips. “‘Makes sense someone so pretty would have good taste.”

You stare silently at him for a second, relieved when Steve’s surprise takes a second to process.

“Wait, me?” Steve points stupidly at himself. “My art?”

“It was amazing, I couldn’t let it slip by!”

“I told you,” Bucky tells him, elbowing his arm. He, unlike the other players, wears a dark sleeve over the entirety of his left arm, all the way up to his fingers. His fingertips, jagged pink, peek out. “I wish you woulda let me go. I could’ve seen the art and met her sooner.”

His friend sends him a furtive glance. “Is this your first time coming to a game?” Steve wonders as he turns back to you.

You shake your head. “Pietro is my roommate’s brother and Thor’s my best friend’s boyfriend. They drag me here when they feel like it, but it’s my first time being back here.” You gesture to the hall. “I’m usually a little late because Bruce drives like a grandmother.”

Bruce sighs, sending you a short glance that you respond to with a gentle nudge of his shoulder.

Blue eyes nods, careful to give you his full attention. “Well, I think you should come around more often.”

You scan him for a second. “Why?” you ask genuinely.

He pauses as he begins to explain, eyes pinched in confusion before Thor’s booming voice cuts him off, reminding you that you need to braid his hair. You give them a final smile before standing. “Duty calls, I guess.”

“So you’ll come around?” He calls after you, frowning when you respond with a transparent smile and ingenuine thumbs up. “Huh,” he says.

“What?” Steve responds, a little slowly, knowingly. He knows well what is making Bucky’s features crease in that way, but he’d prefer hearing it from his friend’s mouth.

“Just… wondering why I’d never seen her before. Pretty.”

“Uh huh.” Steve nods disbelievingly. Knowing he isn’t going to be able to push it out of his friend, he begins to walk toward the field, not waiting up for Bucky, the man caught up in his thoughts. “‘Thought it was because the line didn’t work,” he finally tells him, catching Bucky’s attention.

“What’re you talkin’ about, punk? What line?”

Steve snickers. “Any of ‘em.”

The next time Bucky sees you is across the courtyard, arms wrapped around books, your fingers curved protectively around the edges of your laptop. You struggle as you talk to someone he recognizes, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet as you reach to brush strands of hair away from your eyes.

Why you don’t have a backpack like every other person is beyond him, but it’s the last thing on his mind when your eyes meet his and you smile and wave. Yeah, he knows how to handle this—the attention, the blushing, the flattery.

The hand he raises to wave back freezes awkwardly when he realizes your attention isn’t on him, but rather following something behind his shoulder. His hand lowers as he feels Pietro brush past him and over to you, Wanda following close by. She catches Bucky’s actions and sends him an amused look.

You accept the kiss Pietro drops on your forehead and greet Wanda excitedly, too busy chatting with her to notice the two pens that slip from your pile.

Bucky sniffs, tugging his varsity jacket tighter and deciding to embrace his mistake, walks over to you.

“Hey,” he greets, your name coming out like silk, shooting you a smile. He bends down to pick up your pens, handing them to you with a cajoling rise of his lips.

You return it a pause later. “Hey, um—thanks…” you struggle for a second before you’re cut off.

“Bucky!” the classmate that you were talking to exclaims, and Bucky realizes it’s Quinn, the girl he’d gone out on a date with a while ago. “I saw you on the field yesterday,” she tells him, twirling a strand of red hair around her finger. “You were amazing.”

“I appreciate it,” he thanks her, his eyes flickering back to you for a second, spotting you beginning to step away with a short wave and an elbow to Wanda's side. “I should go, I needed to talk to her,” he starts, acting quickly. “But it was nice to see you again. You look great, I like your necklace.”

Quinn’s fingers reach to pinch at the pendant on her chain, tilting her head at Bucky as she beams. “Thank you!”

Bucky nods, turning to find you gone. He looks around, surprised, but finally catches sight of you turning a corner with your friends. Before he can head toward you, Quinn catches his arm.

“Aren’t you going to ask me out again?” She smiles at him, eyes wide and shiny.

He winces, forcing himself to not glance back at you. “You’re a really great girl, Quinn, but I don’t think we’d work out. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Quinn says quietly, not returning the apologetic smile he sends her. He twists his lips and apologizes again before jogging over to you, slowing to match your pace when he finally catches up.

“Hey again,” he quips, offering you a smile. You return it kindly, twirling your pens between your fingers.

“Hey, Bucky.” Probably accidentally, you enunciate his name in a way that makes him realize you didn’t remember it when he came up to you earlier, and he bites back an embarrassed blush. “It was a good game yesterday.”

“Thank you,” he replies easily. “How was I?”

You cock your head at him. “Fine? You… were a soccer player.”

Pietro laughs, pulling you closer. “He’s asking if he lived up to the stories,” he clarifies, shooting Bucky a look. “‘Does another pretty girl think I’m great too?’” he mocks, the imitation edged in his accent.

You hum in understanding, turning back to Bucky. “Stories?” you echo. Your features bear no likeness to the pull Bucky is used to with girls, nothing implying the agreement or validation he’s usually welcomed with.

“Oh, you know,” Bucky starts with a nonchalant shrug, “of the ‘insane stamina’ and ‘could totally carry a bus’ variety. You know, the ‘Winter Soldier’ name.”

Your eyebrows raise. “‘Winter Soldier?’” you repeat, words bolded in an unconscious drama.

“’S my nickname,” Bucky explains sheepishly. You continue to stare at him for a second before cracking a smile.

“Bucky Barnes, right?” you ask him. He pushes his tongue against his cheek at the blow to his ego and nods. “Which one were you again? All the uniforms are the same, I can only recognize Thor and Piet.”

Pietro hoots. “Fifteen, baby!”

Bucky eyes you, his cheeks pulling with an amused lilt. “You wound me, doll.”

“I wound you?” you giggle, unable to help it. “This is our first conversation and I have the power to wound you. I don’t know how I feel about having this power over a stranger.”

Bucky gasps, reaching out to grab your hand with his ungloved hand and wrap it around an invisible knife to plunge it into his chest. He chokes as he mimes nursing his wound. “Just digging it in deeper, aren’t you? Vixen.”

“Oh, come on, you expect me to have learned your number after knowing you for five minutes?” you exclaim with mild indignance, a whisper of amusement betraying it. You click your tongue. “You were fine, I’m sure,” you respond finally. Wanda jabs an elbow into your arm and whispers something to you. Your eyes light up. “Oh, you’re seventeen! The ball hogger! You do realize you’re in a team, right?”

Pietro claps, nodding approvingly at you. “And me, little flower?”

You roll your eyes. “You were fast. Like always.”

“That’s code for ‘the best out there,’” Pietro tells Bucky.

“I think the code for that is Bucky Barnes,” Bucky retorts, turning back to you. “‘Got a favorite player yet?” He asks you.

You tilt a brow at him. “On the soccer team?”

“Yeah,” Bucky confirms.

“Based off of what?” You counter.

“Anything.”

“Oh.” You think. “Then no.”

Pietro clears his throat loudly.

“What if I get you the best seat possible next game?” Bucky offers.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m good where I am.”

“She barely pays attention anyway,” Wanda informs. “All she does is complain.”

You nod. “And I can do that in any seat.”

“Alright… what if you wear my jersey at the next game?” Bucky continues.

You raise an eyebrow. “And you’re convincing me, right?”

“You should be swooning right now,” Bucky argues accusingly, but his words are tinged with a grin.

“Oh, my bad,” you deadpan, placing a hand on your chest and rocking on your heels. You flutter your lashes at him and melt your lips into a watery smile. “Oh my, golly! Benson’s sweaty jersey!”

“Bucky,” Bucky grumbles. “Bucky’s sweaty jersey.”

“Right,” you reply with an attentive nod, laughing quietly. Your attention is drawn by another building and you turn. “I gotta go, but please keep the jersey far away from me.” You point at Bucky and then wave at Wanda and Pietro. “I’ll see you guys around.”

“Me too!” Bucky shouts after you. You only reply with a thumbs up Bucky can tell is sarcastic even if he can’t see your face, slipping past a closing door. Bucky purses his lips, looking after you. “Huh.”

A hand slaps down on his shoulder, and Pietro's laughter bubbles from behind him. “Nice work,” he lies.

Entirely suddenly, your mind feels vignetted with inky stress. You suppose it was predictable, having ignored the weight your responsibilities had lain on your shoulders for as long as you had, but it’s exhausting nonetheless. You blink slowly at your document in a lousy attempt to soothe yourself, feeling as though you were staring at it through a tunnel.

You yawn as you splay yourself out on your bed, stretching your legs out as far as you can. Your fingertips brush your pillows as you let your eyelids fall closed for just a second, thoughts and reminders of the rest of the things you need to do lining your entrance to sleep, but the door is so inviting, the red tape of your to-do list blurring.

Your ringtone cuts in when you begin to reason with yourself, back straightening fast enough to give you whiplash when you open your eyes again. Your hand slams around your phone, blinking fast as you read Bruce’s contact name.

“The thing,” you mumble, remembering Bruce’s insistence that you went to something. You answer his call and fight to not let yourself fall back on your bed, free fingers moving to rub at your temple.

“Hey, are you ready?” Bruce asks, the sounds of conversation in the background.

“Sure,” you answer tiredly, looking down at yourself. Whoever it is you’re going out with can’t be too picky. “Ready for what again?”

“The team’s win? We’re going out to eat at an actual restaurant and everything.”

You purse your lips. “Are we going to a bar?”

There’s a moment of silence on his end, only highlighted by the muffled voices that converse. “...No.”

Nodding earnestly, you stand, stretching and shaking your limbs out in an attempt to wake yourself up, but the attempt is mocked when you yawn once again. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and wince, tilting your chin up to get another angle. “Then, yes, I’m ready. I guess.”

“That's great!” Bruce praises. “Because we are outside.”

You frown, grabbing a hair tie from your dresser before walking out of your room, surprised to see your apartment empty. “We?” you repeat as you look around, confused. “Are Wan and Pietro with you?”

“They’re probably already there. And ‘we’ as in I picked up Thor, Steve, and Bucky.”

You grunt in response, shutting off the lights and plucking your keys from the counter before locking up.

“You know Bucky. He’s not that bad.”

There are sounds of protest and you catch an offended ‘that bad?’ before you hang up, waving to Bruce’s car. The door to the back opens before you can touch the handle, a grinning face and shiny blue eyes welcoming you. “Hey, doll, you look great.”

“Bunny,” you greet, ducking your chin in a nod. Bucky gets out of the car, extending a hand to invite you inside.

“I don’t mind that one.” Bucky winks.

You shake your head, crawling inside and saying hi to Steve, nose wrinkling when you realize you’ll be sandwiched between the two guys, and turning when you notice Bucky getting in again. You tug on your seatbelt with a polite smile to Steve, bumping into hard muscle when you aim for the buckle.

“You tryna cop a feel? Could’ve just asked,” Bucky tells you, bumping you gently.

“Oh please,” you scoff, poking him with the metal thing. “Excuse me, seatbelt. Bruce isn’t that great of a driver. He’s in his twenties and gets night blindness.”

Bucky pats your hand gently and takes the belt from you, clicking it into place for you.

“Nice and safe, don’t worry, doll.”

You set your lips into a thin line and look straight ahead, pushing your phone into the space between your thighs so you don’t lose it. “How’d you do on your Norse mythology exam, Thor?” you ask, recalling the nerves with which he’d told you about it a couple of days ago.

“Wonderful! I really enjoy the subject. Thank you for helping me study,” Thor replies cheerily.

“You didn’t even need to,” you assure, stifling a yawn. Bucky frowns.

“Did you get some sleep?” Bruce wonders, eyeing you at a red light.

“Yeah, I drank some coffee,” you respond.

“Not the same thing. Not even close.”

You laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you promise. “Stop worrying.”

“I’m always worried,” Bruce grumbles.

“Hey, how was art today?” you ask Steve, nudging his arm gently. Bucky’s brows furrow, urging Steve to look at him and read his mind with an intense stare. Steve does not.

“You were right. I was being too judgemental,” Steve sighs. “I should’ve listened to you.”

“Listened to who?” Bucky buts in. “How did you know Stevie had art today?” he continues, trying to keep his tone light.

“We talk.” You shrug.

“Oh,” Bucky starts, glaring at Steve. “Do you?”

“Yes.” You nod before actually yawning that time. “I’m sorry.”

“You should sleep more,” Bucky comments, watching you shake your head wearily.

“I have things to do,” you defend. “I sleep enough, it’s the stupid car ride, I always fall asleep in cars,” you defend. “But if it pleases you, I’ll sleep the entirety of tomorrow.” Your voice lacks the thick sleeve of satire you tend to use with him, more vulnerable in your exhaustion. Although your request is still sarcastic, Bucky can tell you know you need it.

“It will,” Bucky says.

For the most part, the conversation ends there, the group splitting into their own things during the car ride. After a few minutes, Bucky feels your head fall softly on his shoulder.

He stops paying attention to what Thor is saying, instead focusing on the way you edge toward him in your sleep, nudging your nose into his shoulder. He can see the way your lashes lay on your cheeks when you’re so close and the pretty bridge of your nose.

You’re more open than he’s ever seen you, eyes shut and lips parted with gentle breaths, and he can’t stop staring at you.

Then the car goes over a harsh bump, and Bucky wants to do everything he can to hold you still, but your eyes flutter open and you sit up, meeting his eyes for a second. “Sorry.”

“It's no problem,” Bucky assures, wanting to keep examining the lines of your face, but you clear your throat, looking forward, and Bucky has no choice but to do so too.

The surprise Bucky feels when he spots you at the celebration party is no match for the sweet excitement at the bottom of his stomach, immediately pulling his sleeve further down over his arm and brushing away loose strands of his hair. It would be embarrassing how much he cares about what you think of him if it weren’t so ridiculously important to him.

He busies himself with getting a drink for you, finding himself wondering if you’d come before, only to go unnoticed by him. There’s a startling burst of anger at himself with the thought, and Bucky blinks, eyes continuing to drift to you. Resolute, he moves toward you but pauses as he observes you.

The look on your face is one Bucky has never seen before—though he hasn’t seen many looks on your face before—but it settles so naturally on your features that it is difficult to argue that it’s unfamiliar. You look intense, but the way your eyes scan Wanda's boyfriend—who’s been dubbed Vision—is dangerous. Cocky.

You say something and your entire face relaxes resolutely, but your eyes remain expectant and arrogant, unamused with your companion’s reply.

Vision—who Bucky has heard is never wrong—sure seems wrong in whatever argument he’s just lost against you, and you know it.

“How’re my favorite geniuses?” Wanda pipes up suddenly, forcing Bucky’s daze away, appearing from an unknown place to sling an arm around you. You snap out of the look, your face softening, but the pleasure of being right dances across your features. Bucky clears his throat and takes a sip from his beer, stepping toward you.

“Oh, you know, out-geniusing the other,” you reply, glancing at Bucky as he walks up behind Vision.

“Hey Dolly,” he smiles. “I thought you had too many books to read to go out.”

“I finished them all,” you respond. “And ‘Dolly’? How old are you?”

Bucky clicks his tongue. “What would you prefer, sweetheart?”

“My name,” you state, then squint at him, cocking your head. “Do you remember it? I imagine it’s hard to keep track.”

“Of course I remember.” Bucky scoffs. “I don’t think I could forget.”

You breathe out a laugh. “Right, I’d imagine asking her out to swing dance without it would be pretty hard.”

“Are you asking me to swing dance with you?” Bucky retorts.

You snort. “Yeah, sure.”

Bucky holds out his hand expectantly, covered arm at his side.

Your eyes thin resolutely at him, scrutinizing the details of his face before you shake your head. “You’re ridiculous,” you criticise.

His hand drops and he pouts. “C’mon, pretty please.”

“Do you know what music you swing dance to?” you ask him, wagging a finger to refer to the booming music drowning most sounds inside the house. “Because this isn’t it.”

“I need to take advantage of the fact that you’re here, doll. You said so yourself you don’t go out much,” he complains.

“Yeah, this is why!” you reply, your last words getting louder as the music impossibly gains volume.

“What?!” Bucky shouts, moving closer to hear you better, but you laugh and shake your head, telling him something he can’t make out. When you realize he can’t hear you, you give him a pout.

“And I was just about to say yes,” you say sadly.

“Wha—” Bucky’s cut off by the sharp shattering of glass. With a cringe, your eyes widen as you look behind him, eyes flickering back to him expectantly. He turns and groans. “I have to check that out. I’ll be right back!” he pledges, walking away to see a deadly amount of broken alcohol bottles on the floor, the stench of their contents burning his nose.

When he comes back, you’re gone.

The disappointment that blankets over his shoulders at the fact is just as surprising to him.

You’re in your bubble at the library, a little clueless to everything going on around you as you thumb the corner of a page, your pinky hovering below your book’s cover. You’re a few pages away from something exciting, teeth digging in with anticipation for it, when someone enters your field of vision, a large figure plopping down on a seat in front of you.

You spare them a glance and are surprised to find Bucky, sporting a large grin and his varsity jacket. You observe him suspiciously for a few moments, having never seen him even near the library, before returning your attention to what you’re reading.

“So, you’re actually here, huh?” he asks, and you shush him, shooting him a look to lower his voice. “Sorry.”

“Why are you here?” you question lowly instead, still not putting down your book.

“Anyone can come to the library.” Bucky points out, your name playfully scornful. You level a look at him.

“Yes. Why are you here? With me? You didn’t know my name until, like, two days ago.” You’re careful to keep your voice down.

“First of all,” Bucky starts, beginning to list off his fingers. “We met two weeks and three days ago.”

“Did we?” you drone, attempting to concentrate on the lines of your book once more.

“And, how do you know we don’t just have alternating study days?” Bucky points out.

“I am here every day,” you inform. “And if that were the case, why would you be here right now?” you rebut. “What would you be studying for? Coaching?”

“Maybe I wanted to switch things up,” Bucky defends. “And I’m not studying coaching. I’m studying biomedical engineering.”

You meet his eyes at the revelation, unable to keep the surprise off your face. You fold down the edge of the last page you read offhandedly and let your book flutter closed. “What? Quinn said you were in… sports.”

“Well,” Bucky sucks in a breath as if what he’s about to tell you is a revelation. “Soccer is a sport.”

“I know,” you affirm blandly. “But are you actually in biomedical?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nods. “What, do you not believe me?” he asks, raising a gloved hand to his chest. “I must say, I’m very disappointed in you perpetuating harmful stereotypes.”

“I’m just surprised. You’ve never talked about it before.”

“We’ve talked four times,” Bucky points out. “Although I want it clear that I have tried to make it more.”

“Yeah, what’s that about, by the wayt?” you wonder, setting your elbows on the table and dropping your face into your hands, cocking your head at him. “From what I’ve seen, you have your fair pick of girls and guys.”

“I wouldn’t say that—”

You laugh quietly. “Sure.”

“But I like you,” Bucky explains, shrugging. “You’re smart and pretty and you interest me.”

You scan his face, squinting. Astonishment tints your chuckle. “You are so much better at this than I thought you were.”

“Sorry?”

“At first, I was like ‘this guy? This is the Becky people won’t shut up about?’”

“Bucky,” he corrects swiftly.

“But I see it now. The charm. I’m not falling for it, but I see it.” You nod appreciatively and open your book once again to continue reading.

Bucky frowns in front of you, reaching over to insert an abrupt hand in between the pages. “What are you talking about?”

Sighing, you peel his fingers off the pages and meet his eyes, startled to see their intensity, crinkles at their edges, his lips pinched in a pout. You gasp. “Oh my god, you’re doing it now.”

“Sweetheart, it’s something that just happens naturally, I’m not doing anything.”

You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head, turning back to your book. “You are insufferable.”

“And you’re beautiful.”

“And you’re ridiculous.”

“Go out with me, c’mon,” Bucky urges, smiling now. It’s stupidly sweet.

You click your tongue. “Dates are a waste of time.”

“I’ll make it worth it. Promise.”

“I don’t have time to go out with guys I’ve talked to four times,” you explain.

“Alright, so if I talk to you more, you’ll go out with me?”

You wrinkle your nose. “I don’t… I’m not liking where this is going.”

“I will talk to you every single day from now on,” Bucky vows.

“Oh, I was right,” you groan. “I just mean you don’t know me. My favorite color, my favorite book, my order at my favorite restaurant, things like that.”

“I will know all of that,” he pledges.

You laugh disbelievingly. “Okay, Borky.”

A cocky little smirk plays on his lips as he winks. “Bucky,” he says archly.

You learn his name. Completely. Totally. Unmistakably.

It’s hard not to, not when he becomes a constant in your life and not with a name like that.

James Buchanan Barnes. It rolls off your tongue too nicely all of a sudden.

He talks to you every day. Just like he said he would, even if it’s a two-minute conversation over text where he makes sure you get home safe and asks about your day. It would be overwhelming if it didn’t make you smile so much.

He doesn’t get upset when you answer two hours later because you were distracted with work, asking you how Linda the librarian was and if she liked the cookie he got her three days ago.

You relay her enthusiastic message, deciding to brush over the wink and coy smile she sent you at his mention. Then maybe, because you’re finished with your work for the day, you shove aside your notebook and bite back a small smile when he tells you how pretty he thought you looked in the glimpses he had of you today.

Organizing your books into a neat little pile, you message him and Bruce that you’re heading home. And you intend to, you really do, but then Bucky insists you call him the next time so he can walk you home, and you’ve suddenly been sitting at your table, uselessly leaning against your things for ten minutes.

You shoot up when you realize, lightly bewildered with yourself, gathering everything into your arms as quickly as possible, and shoving your phone into your back pocket. You hope Bruce isn’t getting too worried as you push open the library doors, hurrying down the steps and onto the path you usually take. You’re alert as always, careful to listen past the crunching of leaves beneath your feet and watch for shadows that edge past yours, digging your keys out of your pocket to hold them in the spaces between your fingers.

It’s three minutes in when you begin to feel unsettled. Your phone has vibrated three times in your back pocket in the past two minutes, but the darker section of your path is coming up, and chills rush up your neck as you imagine what the distraction could cost.

A shadow follows nearby, inching closer and closer until your hands are shaking and you’re on the verge of running.

Fingers wrap around your arm and you shriek, books slipping from your arms when they wane. Stumbling back, you tug yourself away from the intrusion, breaths coming out in big, wet gasps when you turn. Bucky’s wide blue eyes meet your glossy ones, hands up in surrender when he catches the tremble of your bottom lip.

A tear streaks down your cheek in profusing relief that it’s only him, the anger indistinguishable beneath it as you stumble into Bucky on wobbly knees, his name braided in a whimper. His arms settle around you hesitantly, guiltily.

“You scared me,” you whisper. “Don’t you know not to sneak up on people?”

“I'm sorry,” he replies sincerely. “I didn’t think—”

“I'm just relieved it’s you,” you interrupt, fingers fisting his shirt. You’re far away, stuck in a memory very far away, and yet it feels enough like you’re standing in it. Your grip is a vice, forcing him closer still until the pads of your fingers can feel the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt.

Bucky murmurs your name, a large palm stroking up and down your back in comfort. His voice is mournful. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You snap out of it at the nickname, pulling away from his embrace as if you’d awoken. He doesn’t startle, only stares at the furrow of your brow and the light that reflects off of your cheeks. Swallowing hard, you blink away the rest of your daze, eyes falling on your things scattered on the ground.

“My computer,” you remember, frantically dropping to your knees to search for it.

Bucky doesn’t pry, kneeling next to you to help pick up your books, taking the ones you’d stacked up sloppily into his arms. You carry your laptop with a careful grip, relatively unharmed.

“I should get going,” you tell him, motioning to take your things from him but he refuses, ushering you into his car.

It’s silent for a while after you halfheartedly agree, obviously still embarrassed. Bucky’s hesitant to probe, but the guilt at what he could’ve reminded you of gnaws at his gut.

You can feel his stare each time he glances at you curiously; cautiously, as if you’ll burst into tears spontaneously.

“I was attacked once.” Your voice is quiet, soft for the obvious teeth the words pierce you with. “Walking home from the library,” you explain. “It’s why Bruce doesn’t like me walking home alone.”

“You… someone…” Bucky pinches his lips into a tense line, fingers tightening around the wheel. “Why?” It’s painfully incredulous.

You look down at your lap, the left edge of your lips pulling into your cheek. “I was alone. It was easy.” What’s left to say seems painful for you to push out. “He didn’t like me very much.”

“I'm sorry,” Bucky offers after a tense second, unsure of what else to say and how angry he can be for you.

“For what? You didn’t have anything to do with it,” you retort, offering him a weak smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“For scaring you,” Bucky insists sincerely. “For the fact that it happened in the first place.” You don’t respond, watching as trees and lights flash past the window.

“It really wasn’t as bad as you think. The label makes it seem worse,” you palliate. “He hit me once and pushed me against a wall. A bruise was the worst of it. Both physically and to my bank account.”

Bucky’s frown stays, quiet blanketing the both of you.

“So, why’d you come get me? How’d you know I was only on my way?” you chime suddenly.

“I wanted to check up on you. You weren’t answering your phone.”

You pause, meeting his eyes with an inquisitive pinch to your features. “So you drove to find me?”

“Technically, I just wanted to drop by your apartment to make sure you got home safe, but that sounds better, so let’s go with it.” Bucky shoots you a grin. An olive branch.

You accept it as you mimic the sweet curve of his lips. “Ah, yes, and that’s how Barnacle gets ‘em. Being charming and funny and sweet—”

He lets a light chuckle slip past his lips, sparing you a delicate glance. You’re already looking at him, softer in your gaze than he’s ever seen you.

He hums inquisitively. “You think I'm charming and funny and sweet?”

You laugh openly, shaking your head but not negating his words. You hug your laptop closer to your chest, constellations reflected in your shadowed eyes as you look through the window. “I think—” you inhale in relief. “We’re here.”

Bucky slows to a stop when he reaches your dorm, shutting off the car and stepping out as you pack up. You only notice his actions when your fingers slip past the handle once you move to open your own door, huffing air out of your nose when he smirks wantonly at you.

“Thank you,” you grunt, climbing out and clutching your things.

You walk ahead, listening to the door slam and the subsequent sound of shoes quick against the pavement until he walks steadily beside you. “So, you wanna do that again soon?”

You laugh, motioning to grab your keys. “Do what again?”

He steals the jingling set from your fingers, moving hurriedly to the door when you make a noise hald surprise half indignation. He jams a silver one in, cringing when it doesn’t fit. You glower as you reach him, eyeing his hands as they continue to shove the wrong key in the lock. “It's the bronze one—no, the other one. How do you not—”

The door swings open, a satisfied smile parting Bucky’s face.

“Thanks,” you sigh, taking back your keys as you step inside. He stands outside awkwardly, kicking a pebble around with his foot. You squint doubtfully at him after you’ve set your things down and he’s not following behind you like you thought he would be. “What’re you doing?”

“You have to invite me in,” he explains.

“What, like a vampire?”

He blinks. “Yeah, like a vampire.”

You grin toothily. “Vucky…” It drips in an exaggerated accent.

“It's cold out here,” he reminds.

“Maybe you should go home then,” you suggest.

His face drops for a second and you find yourself feeling a tug of something sickening at your stomach. Like a reflex, the offer leaves your throat before you can help it.

“Or. Come inside.” At his hesitant posture, you suck in a bubble of air. “Do you want to come in? You’re welcome to.” I want you to.

He stares at you long enough for you to squirm before a smile breaks through his face. “Really?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, flimsy regret already churning in your gut. “Yeah. Just come on in already. It’s cold outside, dummy.”

It’s startling the first time you miss Bucky's ever-constant presence.

You’d rather not admit it, but it’s hard not to—not when he finds you between classes to carry your books, teasing you about your lack of a backpack but always leaving you with only your laptop and a pen in hand. You can’t help the smiles when he “coincidentally” bumps into you at your favorite coffee shop enough times to have your order ready when you arrive on your tea day.

His goofy jokes while you study at the library get less annoying and, annoyingly, more endearing. You suddenly know a whole lot about biomedical engineering and Bucky. You know his sister’s favorite color and can spout stories about Steve before he grew five times his size like you were there yourself.

It's infuriating, you think, but you don’t mind as much when Bucky's making you laugh with lovely crinkles at the edges of his eyes.

“I like the ocean,” you say sometime at the library, books spread on the table, ignored. He looks up from his notebook in surprise, putting down the pen you’d lent him two weeks ago. “It’s the reason why my favorite color is blue.”

His own blue glitters as he nods, listening. “‘Thought it was because of my eyes.”

You reward him a laugh and a roll of your eyes. “I really wanted Atlantis to be real when I was little,” you tell him. “And mermaids. Even if they were the ugly ones that murder you,” You confess in a rare moment of transparency, meeting his eyes before you clear your throat, bringing your attention back to your laptop.

“I like space,” Bucky offers. “It's endless.”

You nod in acceptance, clearing your throat as if to rid yourself of what you’ve given him.

“You collect those squished pennies, right?” Bucky asks.

You’re startled that he remembers, and it takes a second for your brain to catch up. “Uh—yeah. Why?”

Bucky turns to dig around in his bag, pulling out something small and bronze and shiny with a brilliant smile. ”I went to this little souvenir shop the other day and found one of those machines.” He extends it to you and flips it slowly between his index and middle. “It has a little fuzzy monster thing on it. I don’t get it, to be honest.”

It never crossed your mind that he would do that for you. A startling line of electricity runs up your arm when your fingers meet his, quick to take the penny from him. “Thank you,” you mutter, observing the coin in the light. The large eyes of the embossed little monster stare back at you. “This is really nice of you.”

“It’s not big deal,” Bucky shrugs. “I just thought you’d like it.”

Honey fills your throat. Gulping, you glance at the clock, nearly relieved to see it’s time for you to leave. “I gotta go,” you tell him, gathering your things. The smooth edges of the penny dig into your palm. He stands in tandem, rolling his shoulders.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to,” you begin.

“I want to. Besides, it would kind of feel weird not to after so long.”

You nod along. “Right.”

He ducks his chin in affirmation, picking up his stuff too. Furtively, he lightens your own load.

You notice but know better than point it out and argue, remembering how you ended up bedrudgingly carrying only a pen last time.

“Does Sam still have your car?” you ask as you leave the library.

“Yup. One more week, he says.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Well, he’s been saying that for two, so…”

You laugh, staring up at a big tree vignetted orange.

Bucky nudges you lightly as you begin to drift away, preventing you from walking into the street. He guides you past a fissure in the sidewalk as you gasp at something in a boutique’s window. “There’s a sale at the bookstore!”

“Wanna go tomorrow?” Bucky asks.

You nod. “Can we?”

“Sure, we’ll just leave the library a little earlier,” Bucky suggests, balancing the books in his arms.

“Someone’s sure of themselves,” you tease. “You’re walking me home tomorrow, too?”

“Of course. I have been for months,” Bucky points out with a shrug.

Your jests die on your tongue as you realize he’s right, the discovery shocking when the memories of your solitary walks are further away than you had thought; suddenly, you remember that the dog you’d pointed out two weeks ago was more for his benefit than yours.

“Weeks,” you argue weakly, throat suddenly dry.

“Weeks could definitely be months,” Bucky reasons.

You ignore him, stopping in your tracks. “Why?”

A frown tugs at his lips as he pauses as well. “Because weeks add up to months?”

“Why have you been walking me home every day for months?”

“‘Thought it was weeks?”

“Bucky,” you say, a little urgent.

He shrugs boyishly, near flippant but your things in his arms don’t let you believe that. “I don't want you to walk alone.” Then, “I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Shocked pupils dart around wildly and it’s difficult to swallow before you steady yourself, clearing your throat. Your features are pinched in a sort of raw determination—open, honest. “Thank you.”

He smiles and it’s soft as he shrugs lightly, nearly nonchalant.

Before you let yourself get too caught up in the curve of his lips and realize you’ve imitated it unconsciously, you look away, clearing your throat in relief when you spot your door.

“Right. Um, thanks again.” You take your things from him before he can think twice about it, speed walking to your door.

“Wait—” he stammers out, confused and too late when you give him a wave and a quick goodbye before slamming the door shut.

You swallow hard on the other side of the door, wide eyes staring aimlessly into the darkness. In the dreaded stillness, you can feel the heat that creeps up your neck and floods stickily into your face, the prickling static that needles into your palms. Shakily and illicitly, a hand drifts up to your chest, pressing to feel the thundering beating of your heart.

You curse to the silence, letting your eyes flutter shut in candied disappointment.

Bucky thinks you’re acting weird.

No—he’s sure you’re acting weird.

He knows you now, can recognize the sarcastic lines of your cheeks when you wrinkle your nose and poke fun at him. He’s memorized the genuine curve of your lips when he’s said something so cheesy it circles around to sweet. He knows you at your angry and at your happy, but he doesn’t know this.

You’re being nice to him. Sticky nice. Not you-nice.

He tries teasing first, poking a pencil into the flesh of your arm and asking if you’d fallen in love or something. You’d scoffed, blinked fast, and swatted him away. But you didn’t say no.

He’s aware he’s a fool to think so large of a lack of something, but he can’t pretend like it doesn’t inspire something in him, something like hope, like nectar, sticky in his throat.

He wonders if it clogs words up in yours—if it’s the reason you’re so quiet.

You stare through your computer, steam from your tea disappearing into the air as you blink. There’s a sweet indent in between your eyebrows, similar to the one you get when you study something you don’t completely understand, usually accompanied by the nail of your thumb between your teeth. But this one is lighter, more unintentional. You’re struggling with something but he can’t figure out what.

Your eyes flicker up to his, glinting in the light when you catch them on you.

“What?” you blurt. It’s louder than you intend, and you purse your lips in that embarrassed way that you do, shrinking down into your seat. “Why are you staring at me?”

“You’re pretty,” he says honestly.

He waits for your usual flustered reaction and you give it to him, but it’s vignetted with something, different in the quick blinks of your eyes and the thumb you brush over your nose.

“I'm hungry,” you complain, ignoring his compliment.

“I'll buy you something,” Bucky responds immediately, already pulling out his wallet.

“You don’t have to,” you remind. “I wasn’t asking, I was just—”

“I know, it’s fine,” Bucky insists.

“I can pay. It’s my food.”

“It’s just a meal.” He squints at you. “You never pass up a chance of food on me.” He presses the back of his palm against your forehead and leans in closer. “Are you feeling okay?”

You heat up beneath his touch, shaking him off with a scowl. “You make me sound awful. Fine. Buy me my food then.”

Bucky raises his hands in surrender, wallet between his index and middle finger rising with his shoulders. “I will.” He squeezes your shoulder before he walks away, dipping down to your ear to whisper, “And you’re not awful.”

You huff, pinching your lips together as you watch him get in line, nudging his fingers into his wallet to take out money.

Arbitrarily, you’re annoyed. Bucky Barnes is infuriating, with his long charcoal lashes and lilting chuckle and nonchalance in giving things you want without your asking.

Your laptop screen darkens with your lack of attention, and you’re left staring at yourself, scrutinizing the thin lines around your eyes as you squint. You’re being ridiculous; you can’t be angry over Bucky being a sweet guy.

“They musta’ known you were coming,” Bucky whistles, balancing a bowl and a small bag already darkened with grease spots in his arms. You take the bowl from him, warmth seeping into your fingertips.

You furrow your brows at him when you pop the lid off, barely realizing you’d never told him what to get. “You got me cavatappi pasta,” you realize. You look upset.

“Yeah?”

Distressed, you snatch the bag from him, shoving your fingers inside to pull out two large chocolate chip cookies. “And chocolate chip cookies.” Your voice rises and falls with a slightly unhinged twinge, features pulling as you examine what Bucky got for you. Your comfort food; the token you’d never explained to him.

“Yeah. It’s what you always get. And I know you always want two cookies but only get one because you’re afraid you won’t finish it, but we can split it or you can save it, or��what are you doing?”

You sweep everything into your arms, holding the food tightly behind your books.

“I have to go.”

“What? We just got here.”

“I have an appointment.”

“For what?”

“For—things—it’s—” you huff. “I have to go.”

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride? I have my car back, you know,” Bucky offers, already beginning to get up, but you shake your head, his actions hitting something in your chest.

“I'll be fine, thanks for the…” you exhale sharply. “I'll see you later.”

You run off, ignoring his confused call of your name as you slam the door behind you.

Hot soup dribbles down your fingers as you speed walk back home, but you barely notice, struggling to remember why you’d rejected him before.

“I hate him,” you mumble, fully dishonest as you struggle with your keys. “I hate him so much.”

“Hate who?” Bruce asks from the table, sparing you a glance from his computer. His eyebrows join as he takes you in, every panting and crazed inch of you, mouth parting and head tilting. “Uh.”

“Bucky,” you reply, setting the a la carte box down hastily. You drop the cookies next to it.

Bruce stares at you.

You make a big gesture with your hands toward it, pursing your lips. “He bought me that. Just—insisted. He's so—” you sigh frustratedly. “I didn't even—he bought me cookies.”

“Okay.” It's long and hesitant. “And that’s bad because…” he begins to shake his head. “You don’t like cookies?”

Your shoulders drop.

“You hate cookies and pasta. You think they’re awful,” Bruce tries.

“No! I love soup and cavatappi and—he’s ruining everything! He's such an idiot!” you rub your face, nuzzling your nose into the crevice between your joined hands.

Bruce examines you for another second before: “Oh.”

“What?” you snap, meeting amused brown. “What?”

“Nothing,” Bruce muses, but his lips are set in a careful smile, amusement poorly hidden. “Just that you finally learned his name.”

His thoughts are pathetically obvious in his tone, lips in a thin line and eyes crinkled.

“Don’t,” you warn. “Bruce Banner—”

“I didn't say anything.”

“Do not think what you’re thinking,” you demand. “He’s a player and a distraction and—”

“Okay.” Bruce has never been one to argue, but his one word answer makes you more frustrated than anything else he could’ve said.

You puff and gather your food, striding to your room with a glare at your best friend.

For the first time since you met Bucky, you follow through on an excuse to miss the game. It’s not a majorly important one—although Bucky pouts when you tell him either way, insisting that he needs you there for good luck—but you still feel a strange ache at the bottom of your stomach when the game begins and you’re too far away to cheer for him.

The edges of your lips are downturned, brows pinched as you stare at your phone before you realize what you’re doing and snap your attention away.

Scoffing, you shake away thoughts about soccer and the memory of Bucky's sweet blue eyes when he’d teased you, a strange tone of real sadness beneath his playful jests.

You pause, lifting your hands from your computer to eye the time once again. Furtively scanning the work you’re nearly done with, you allow yourself the distraction and grab your phone, fingers dancing in anticipation when your lock screen is littered with icons of messaging apps.

You click Bucky’s name first, smiling softly as you read a quickly typed summary of the game he probably sent after the first half was over. He sounds hopeful and excited, like he always does when he talks abouts soccer, but he signs off with a mispelled reminder that he misses you and a red heart. You check Wanda and Bruce's messages next, your face falling when you learn the second half hadn’t gone as well.

Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you glance at your work again and then at the clock, taking a quick breath before you force yourself to write a quick conclusion you promise yourself you’ll revise when you get home.

The game is over by the time you arrive, easily finding a parking spot in the midst of everyone’s departure. You hear disappointed grumbling as you make your way inside the stadium and cringe, striding toward the locker room.

Your name in Bruce’s voice makes you pause, turning to meet his pulled, bushy eyebrows and pinched lips. “What’re you doing here?”

“I finished early,” you explain. “And you said the game wasn’t going great so I thought I'd come and make sure the team’s okay.”

Bruce's features morph into something like realization and then into his poor poker face, lips pursed so tightly they’re edged white. “Right. The team.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, since it’s the whole team, I should let you know most of them are in the locker room moping, but Bucky wanted to leave early.” Bruce looks pointedly to the right.

“What? Why?”

Bruce shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe he said something about seeing you, but since you’re here for the team—”

“Shut up, Bruce.” You squint meanly at him, making him swallow a laugh as you spin around and continue on your path.

You bump into Bucky when you turn a corner, familiar hands coming to rest on your arms distractedly before his eyes brighten in recognition. He says your name in surprise, shaking you gently as if to check that you’re real. His hair is damp from the quick shower he’d just taken, dark spots from water droplets around the collar of his gray shirt. He smells like soap and Bucky and it makes you a little dizzy.

“Hey, I heard about the game,” you say. “I wanted to check up on you.”

“Oh. I was just coming to see you. I told you that you were our lucky charm.” Bucky laughs but it’s not completely honest, his disappointment about the loss shining through.

You frown, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, you shove your hands into your coat pockets, pulling out a crinkled baggie in each one. “I brought you something.”

Bucky steps back, eyebrows furrowed as he notices what you’re holding. “Are those orange slices?”

Nervous now, you let your arms drop. “Yeah. I, uh—figured they’d maybe give you a boost and—” You cut yourself off, laughing awkwardly. “It was dumb.”

“My mom used to bring me orange slices after soccer practice,” Bucky mumbles.

You perk up. “Yeah. You told me about that and I thought maybe you’d like them.” The end of your sentence lilts like a question, answered by the quick movements of Bucky's fingers when he takes a baggie from you and pulls it open, taking a slice out to grin happily at it.

He dips his fingers in again and hands another to you, bumping his own small slice against yours. “Cheers.”

As soon as he bites into it, the juice from the fruit runs down his fingers, eyelids falling closed in a delighted hum. You barely realize the sap has streaked sticky orange down your arm, too.

He breathes out your name as he opens his eyes, a dazzling blue in the fluorescent lights of the locker room hall. “I forgot how…” He shakes his head, drifting off, and takes the other bag from you, pulling you to him. He sighs big and warm, rumbling through his chest.

You rub your nose against his sweatshirt, breathing in deeply. There's the fresh scent of citrus and then the lavender body wash you’d bought for him faint beneath his own distinct smell. He thanks you blithely, a lot lighter.

You shrug it off and force yourself to pull away, shivering at the loss even if you initiated it. “Do you want to get something to eat and watch that new episode of The Great British Bake-Off we missed last week?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, hand drifting down to pull yours along. His skin is sticky and sweet against yours, orange juice smearing on your palm, but you can’t find it in you to care.

You feel sick when you step outside; a sticky, prickly rush that coats your throat in sap. It’s cold enough to make goosebumps rise on your skin, dark enough for the stars to drown in ink. Any appetite you had disappears, replaced with something clammier and painful, a twisting anxiety as a result of a bad day and a completely avoidable situation.

The bags with your food bump warmly against your knee, plastic handles pulling against the skin of your wrist. If you stay as you are, there will be indents of them once you finally put the bag down.

Something like dumb, chest-puffed stubbornness tugs incessantly at you when you contemplate calling Bruce to come pick you up, a biting voice snapping pathetic for even thinking about it convincing you to shut the door behind you, locking away the choice of warmth and safety and shame.

It’s very silent when you begin to walk, the crinkling of your bag loud and in tandem with your steps. You let it slide down and hook on your fingers, carefully aware of shadows that might peek out behind yours and off-space footsteps.

Lonely fingers curl in on themselves, missing the comforting frigidity of the keys you’d forgotten at home. Your dying phone vibrates in the tight grip of your hand, spurring your steps faster. A dark lump appears on your shadow’s shoulder, and you freeze, spinning around violently to face the street, empty behind you.

You turn back around hesitantly, breath trembling. You could’ve sworn you felt someone else behind you.

Eyes rounded and wet, you begin to walk again, feeling an uncomfortable heat in the space where your ribs meet. Your required cognizance turns frantic, making your fingers shake and oxygen difficult to get into your lungs. There’s an echo to your footsteps. When you blink, there’s the ghost of an unforgiving hand on the back of your neck, the sharp slam of your jaw against brick. You gasp when you open your eyes again, a hand flying to the aching skin of your neck as you spin.

Your eyes promise that there’s no threat lurking behind darkness, but your mind blares with an assurance that there is. Ducking behind a wall, you scramble for your phone, cheeks cold with air-slapped tears as you press the call button for the first contact your fingers find.

Bucky’s voice is confused and comforting when he answers.

“I think—I think someone is following me,” you whimper, pulling your legs to your chest. Your food warms the side of your thigh.

“What? Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “I’m sorry, I should, it’s just—I was walking home from the restaurant and I heard something and I can’t concentrate, I can’t breathe—”

“Okay, it’s okay. Try to breathe, okay? Can you tell me what restaurant it was?”

You can picture the glowing sign, the faded wallpaper, the flowered curtains, but you can’t think, barrelling you deeper into panic. “I can’t remember—I—”

You can hear Bucky open his door. “Hey, it’s okay. Were you eating there or picking up to go?”

“To-go,” you answer tearfully, concentrating on the box pressing into your flesh.

“Okay. For you and Bruce or just you?”

“B-both of us.”

“You’re doing great, sweetheart. Try to take deep breaths, I think I—”

There’s a hollow click before it’s silent, the calm you’d been grasping at completely gone. “Bucky?” you plead. “Bucky?”

You pull your phone away from your ear, vision going blurry when you tap desperately at the screen and it doesn’t respond. Dead.

There’s a tremendous weight on your chest, your elbow knocking against the wall behind you with your attempts to draw in a breath. You shove your head in between your knees and try to remember Bucky’s voice, forget the cold fear that another clammy hand will reach for your hair and tug you up.

You need to get home. You can’t move.

You stifle your sobs with your leg, clawing at your shins and trying to think of anything else. You shove your hand in between your stomach and your legs, letting your phone fall to your thighs as the tips of your fingers reach the round hills of your collarbone. Your palm digs into your flesh until the beating of your heart pulses against your thumb, aching when you force it to stay put.

Thump, thump. “O-one,” you force, restraining your fingers from curling. Thump, thump. “Two.” A deep, shuddering breath that makes your mouth snap closed and your eyes flutter into darkness. Thump, thump. “Three…”

It’s how Bucky finds you, your nose deep between your knees, counting watery and muffled. He’s frantic when he sees you, panic like needles against his chest prickling to a pounding ache. He should be more cautious, stand still a few feet away for a few seconds, step slowly. If he were a little less in love, maybe he would; but he’s not, and the relief that you’re solid and no longer a tenuous voice on his phone is too much a relief.

He calls out your name and rushes forward, lowering himself down to his knees before he touches your arm. You flinch, shoving a strong hand against him, a horrible mix of anger and fear contorting your voice.

“It’s me. It’s Bucky.”

You still push yourself back against the wall, but your eyes finally meet his. “Bucky,” you test. “Bucky.”

It’s a silent, cold beat before you blink clearly, irises looking back a little less hazy. You murmur his name once more and promptly burst into tears, launching yourself into his chest. His arms wrap around you in tandem, pleasing the closeness your fisted fingers crave. He takes in your tears, steadily smoothing a hand over your back, desperation in the way he hooks his chin over the crown of your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks too soon.

You make a noise of which answer he can’t be sure of, so he gathers you up in his arms to push you away, only a little, only for a second to stare at you.

You grip at his shirt, cheeks shiny. And then, “I thought I was really gonna die this time.” Hearing your admittance causes a shift on your face, still crumpled and unready to deal with this. “Just for a second and—” Your lips twist to keep words back.

Bucky pulls you back in.

“Will you take me home?”

His compliance is wordless and patient, hooking a finger through your takeout and grasping your hand with his free one, guiding you to his car. He helps you inside, setting the bag at your feet before he buckles your seatbelt and pushes strands of hair away from your sticky face.

Your breathing steadies while he drives, concentrating on the cool puffs of air hitting your collarbone, the lingering warmth from the food you’re suddenly starving for. But the wash of panic has left a shameful residue and a subsequent otiose apology on your tongue, making the once comforting silence expectant.

Your chest weighs when you finally spot your door, fighting to pull words from your mouth at the dimmed lights, but Bucky beats you to it, clearing his throat without unlocking the door. His left hand lays clothed on his lap, face stormed with uncertainty, but there’s a resolute edge that makes him look at you.

“I’m sorry,” you start, misunderstanding.

“Why?”

You aren’t sure, only certain of how guilty you feel. “For… bothering you. For making you comfort me. I’m sorry that you had to see me like that."

“Don’t apologize.” He clenches his jaw. “I don’t want you to…”

He shoves his sleeve up, taking a deep breath as he pinches the fingertips of the glove. “I know that wasn’t something you were ready to share with me. I understand, I…”

His gaze is heavy, flickering between your face and the fingers peeling away his glove. He swallows hard when it’s pulled off completely, looking away from the sight of his skin.

You can’t help the way your eyes track down his arm. It’s scarred with angry raised lines, ending at his fingertips and disappearing into his shirt sleeve.

“I was in a fire once,” he says. “‘Got some scars too.”

“Is that why you wear—” You trail off at his nod. “Why are you… why are you telling me?” you ask, wincing at how the question sounds, but Bucky seems to understand what you mean.

He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he lies.

You blink at him, slipping a sure hand into his and squeezing. “Thank you.”

His eyes stay startled on your interlocked fingers, stubborn even beneath his gaze. He laughs hollowly then, squeezing back before he finally meets your eyes. “You, too.”

Your fingers are wound tightly around Wanda’s arm, the nails digging into her sweater giving away what your face is trying to hide. You’re zeroed in on Bucky's figure as he runs across green after blurry white.

The energy from the others who cheer in the stands makes you buzz, a rush of confidence urging you to jump to your feet when Bucky passes the ball to Pietro and then has it once again, close enough to the other team’s goal to make you clench a hand in anticipation.

With the flesh of your thumb between your teeth, you can’t help but lose your breath when it looks like Bucky's going to try to make it, only for it to be knocked out from your lungs when he crashes to the ground from the impact of another player.

Your mouth parts in a surprised o, tongue playing his name before you can stop it.

It's eerily silent in the stadium for a second as Bucky lies on the field, before it disappears into a fold of angry screams.

You’re not worried.

Bucky has never gotten hurt on the field before—”I’m too good,” he had promised you with an uneven grin, annoying in the way that he’s right—and the only times it’s seemed otherwise have been lies, a mere play he put on for the free kick. He had shaken his head disappointedly at you when you’d gotten worried, condemning you for not trusting him. He’s playful when he’s flustered.

So you’re not worried, because you know Bucky is fine.

Except he hasn’t moved in a little while too long and you don’t think it’s ever taken him this long to fake it. Although, maybe it feels longer because you can’t take your eyes off his figure.

You’re not worried.

Your fingers say otherwise, thumb tapping against your alternating fingers so frantically they get jumbled together, clumsily bumping into the crevices between them.

“Is he hurt?” Wanda asks.

“No,” you say automatically, stretching your fingers out like a starfish as if to rid evidence of your anxiety. “No, he’s fine.”

It's another moment that seems too long and the lines of Wanda’s worried face deepen, breaths a little faster. “He's not… he’s not getting up.”

“He’s fine,” you insist. “He has to milk it.” Glancing up at the timer, you nod definitively. “Yes, he has to milk it to get the penalty kick.”

“What?” Wanda asks, meeting your eyes in confusion.

“The hit didn’t seem that bad,” you lie unsteadily. “He has to milk it. He’s fine.”

Your panic escapes in the highs of your voice, something translucent hiding it when you clear your throat. He's still not getting up and it makes your breath comes out quickly. “He has to be,” you admit.

Wanda’s brows furrow, eyes searching your face once Bucky finally limps weakly to his feet, giving the ref a short nod. A sigh large enough to make you bend slips past your lips, caught in a relieved laugh as you gesture to him.

“I told you,” you tell her.

“He’s limping,” she points out.

“It’s fake,” you assure, fingers digging round shadows into your temples. “He’s doing his hero face, he’s completely fine.” It comes out more relieved than you thought it would.

He gets his penalty kick, makes it, of course, and it’s another few, a lot slower minutes before the game is over, but you’re making your way down thirty seconds before, too much attention on the game rather than your footing on the stairs.

You stumble over your feet, barely caring when the whistle blows to indicate the game is over, and turn in the direction of the hall to the locker room. Your anxiety nearly seems silly now, not as oppressive now that the soaked towel you’d been waterboarded with was dry. Yet, it still prickles at your fingertips, faint but enough to ache.

It's only a couple minutes before you can hear the pattering of feet, the stress that the outliers are Bucky, limping like he did on that field, nudging at your mind. The players wave at you, surprised, and your heart grows heavier and heavier with each passing team shirt that does not have “BARNES” on the back.

Then he’s there, completely fine and near the end of the line. He's grinning at the apparent win, letting Steve shove him proudly. His eyes widen in surprise when they catch sight of your own, saying something to his teammates without looking at them as he steps toward you.

“Hey, what’re you—”

Unable to help yourself, you throw your arms around his neck, the prickling disappearing the moment you touch him. He is hot and solid in your arms, but most importantly completely fine.

“Hey,” he coos, hugging you back.

You allow him a moment before you pull back abruptly and smack his arm.

“Ow!” he complains, grabbing your hand.

“You asshole! What’s up with the drama?”

“What, did I scare you?” Bucky teases, smirk dropping when your deadpan doesn’t glitter with playfulness. “Doll?”

“You took your sweet time getting back up,” you continue, ignoring his words. “You’ve never taken that long.” You’re alone in the hall now, eyes frenetic over his figure.

He softens then, chin pulling closer to his neck so his eyes can give you a reassuring smile. “Hey,” he says softly, tapping your wrist with his index, “‘m fine.”

“I know,” you contend, but it comes out a little relieved at hearing it in his voice. “I told Wanda that.”

His cheeks apple at your statement, amusement twinkling back in his eyes. “Of course. My girl knows I can't get hurt.”

You scoff at the term of endearment, nervous energy dissolving. “I'm not your girl.”

“Not yet!” he proclaims.

You wrinkle your nose, stepping away from him. “You stink. Go shower.” You pat his shoulder as a goodbye, beginning to head back out.

“Sure know how to charm a guy,” he mumbles, watching you walk away with a dopey smile.

You’re in your room, laying on your stomach with your computer in front of you and a drink Bucky had bought for you sitting on your bedside table.

He's sitting against your bed, scanning over a document. You should be doing something like it, but you can’t help but be distracted. He's quiet for once, features set in something not playful and not serious, a small knot between his brows indicating his concentration.

He looks pretty. You can’t be blamed.

If he notices your gaze, he’s kind enough to not point it out, although it’s unlikely. It’s undoubtedly heavy.

He’s staring down at his hand when he speaks up for what seems like the first time since hes arrived. His fingers dance nervously before he shoves them away from his view, edges of thick tissue peeking out as a bracelet on his wrist. “Do I make you uncomfortable when I flirt?”

You blink owlishly at him, unsure how to answer. He sounds so serious, guilty. “No.”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop.”

“I know you would. But it doesn’t. Is something wrong?”

Bucky cringes. “You don’t really flirt back. I just want to make sure it’s not because I make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t! I just… don’t really flirt. I don’t really think there’s a point if I’m not dating.”

“You don’t date?” He’s known this. To a point, which he thinks is not completely accurate now that he hears the way you say it.

“No.”

“Not even guys you like?”

“Especially guys I like, ” you clarify, cringing with the difficulty of putting so many feelings into so insignificant words. “Things get messy. It’s just… distractions and it’s never worth it.”

“You think love isn’t worth it? That it’s a distraction?”

You shoot him a look, huffing a little disappointedly, as if you’d expected him to understand something and he didn’t. “Why do people always twist my words into something so cynical?

I didn’t say that. Not love. I never said love, I just—it never ends well. It’s always something you pour so much into and get so little back.”

Bukcy shifts. “That’s not true. A relationship is fair, or at least, it’s supposed to be.”

“Ah, but see, ‘supposed to be’ and ‘is’ are two different things. I’d rather just skip the entire thing.”

Bucky frowns. “I don’t think you should.”

“You don’t think I should?”

“I don’t… I’m not telling you what to do, but I really think you should try. Love can be really great. And you deserve that.”

Your nails pinch at your fingers. “But what if it isn’t?”

“Then it isn’t.” You move to rebut, but Bucky continues. “But what if it is?”

You refuse to answer, chewing on your bottom lip.

Bucky gazes at you, waiting for a response before he realizes he won’t get one. He doesn’t push, turning back to his work.

“Why do you care so much?” you ask.

He sucks in a breath before admitting, “Mainly because I think you would really enjoy being loved. And very partially because I’m selfish.”

You hum. “You’re a really good guy, Bucky.”

“I try.”

You scowl lightly. “Incorrigible. Annoying. But really good.”

Bucky laughs. “Don’t forget—what was it you said about me? Charming? Sweet? Hand-to-heart hilarious?”

You launch a pillow at his head. “Nuisance is what I should’ve said.”

“Mm, a little contradictory but what’s life without some juxtaposition? Maybe I’m a man of many talents.”

The tip of your index finger shoves into his arm.

You fall into a peaceful silence once again when the laughter dissolves, your fingers busy away at your keyboard. There's a moment where you’re thinking, staring intently just past your computer and Bucky is staring at you, a thoughtful expression on his face, stony and all.

“Will you?”

It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to you. “Will I what?”

“Give it a chance.”

You want a moment to ponder it, because you know the right answer but you aren’t sure if you want to pick it. “Give what a chance?” you play dumb, but he doesn’t buy it.

You look to your side, unfocused eyes lazy on an ugly painting.

“Yeah, maybe.” You want to tell him it depends who it is, that you have very strict rules mentioning annoying brunets with blue eyes who walk you home from the library and never shut up, but you don’t, eyes travelling back to him slowly. His silence when they finally meet his own tell you he knows anyway.

Quickly looking back down, you avoid his gaze and continue to work.

You melt into his side, delightfully prickling when you lean in a little closer to take a sip of your drink. Eyes shimmering in the lame lights of the bar, you’ve never looked so openly bright, hardly containing your delight and everything you can spilling past anyway.

There are enough people in the place for it to feel rightfully uncomfortable, sweat-sticky skin bumping into the arm he has around your chair and making the heat rise, but Bucky can’t seem to notice.

It would feel plain ignorant to do so—to not focus completely on the stitched pride in the dips of your smile or the warmth of your palms as they splay flat on his arm.

It’s not enough to just have your fingers tug at him during conversations with strangers, he feels he should imprint the feeling of your touch like a branding.

You say his name in conversation, cruelly dragging your hand down to bracelet around his wrist and squeezing. You make a little shimmy with your shoulders that can’t help but make him laugh. He zeroes in on your lips, trying to make sense of what you’re saying.

You’re cute. You’re too sweet to be in this stuffy bar with him.

You turn to him brightly in the midst of another exclamation and he feels himself transported.

He can feel the end buzzer vibrating up to his fingertips, the breeze on the heat of his skin when he’d looked up, eyes searching for you like a habit.

Your features are shrunken into the memory, suddenly far away but still pulled into the biggest beam you could muster, hands clapping ecstatically.

“Bucky,” memory-you says liltingly, too clearly.

When he blinks, he’s back in the present, the tip of your index dimpling his bicep, your face close enough for him to count each individual eyelash. He grins without really thinking about it. “Bucky,” you repeat, a little harsher but still teasing.

“Yeah?” he responds finally.

“We’re complimenting you and you aren’t paying attention? Are you feeling okay?” you frown, lips downturned but the edges of your eyes still crinkled with happy lines. The back of your hand meets his forehead.

“Fantastic,” he says, his left hand vining up to hook around your fingers and lay them on his lap. “Just won a game, didn’t you hear? All by myself, too.”

You shake your head at him, turning back to who Bucky realizes is one of your friends. Carol, you’d said.

“See?” You say accusatorily.

Carol grins. “Yeah. Kind of hard not to when you describe it so thoroughly.”

That catches Bucky’s fluttering attention, an eyebrow shooting up questioningly in your direction. Your lips part in betrayal at Carol, and you begin to take your hand back from Bucky, but he hooks your wrist before you can.

“I think Maria is calling you,” you tell her. “You should go see what that’s about.”

“Now, now,” Bucky starts. “Actually, I think I want to know how thoroughly you talk about me, sweeheart.”

“That's my cue,” Carol laughs, dipping a beer at you both. “I'll see you guys later. Congrats on the game.”

She bounces to her feet and takes off, leaving the two of you alone. Bucky nudges a finger in between your ribs, making you jump and swat at him. “Hey!”

“You talk about me to your friends?”

You stare at him, bottom lip pushing out defensively in your tipsiness. “Well, the star football player is one of my best friends, shouldn’t I be allowed to brag?”

“Best friend, huh? Bruce gonna be jealous?”

You wave him off, making a small, stubborn sound. “He ought to get over it with how much he ditches me.”

“See, I would never.” Bucky presses his free hand to his heart in oath. “Star football players are very reliable. Scoring goals, keeping plans, etcetera.”

You grin at the reminder, something sparkling beneath your skin like static, jolting your fingers when it begins to brim. You splay an excited palm on his shoulder out of pure excitement, seeming to relive the night.

“I am so proud of you,” you say. Saccharine, words stout with a smile and pride. “You did so well today.”

You’re startlingly genuine, entirely proud. Bucky can’t bring himself to tease or flirt.

“Thank you.”

You smile prettily, the light in your irises shifting at his authenticity. “I am,” you insist.

You just want to tell him, for him to hear you and understand how much you mean it. Your pupils flicker to a spot above his shoulder, distant for a second as your face brightens more. You laugh disbelievingly.

“I don't know all that much about football but from what I do, you’re certifiably extraordinary.” You sound out the word, unwilling to mess it up when you mean it so much. You try again. “You made a really great play.”

“Impossible,” Bucky corrects completely unsubtly, but it’s soft, blurred by yellow light from above and buzz from you.

You observe him for a second. “I think you’re amazing,” you say thoughtfully, not in an effort to compliment but in a sort of realization. “What… type of person…” you start but don’t continue, tongue unable to keep up with everything running through your mind. The walks home, the paid lunches, the attention, the ability.

You inhale sharply, as if realizing you’re drifting off and trying to pull yourself back in.

Bucky knows what you expect—what he expects of himself—but he can’t bring himself to tease you, reiterate your words with an artful curve of his lips. He can’t concentrate enough to ignore the prickly warmth at the bottom of his stomach. He glances down at his watch.

“Should we go?” he says instead, casual but urgent. “It's late.”

He stands before you can process his offer, still a little drunk from stolen sips but only enough to make contrasts lighter. You blink up at him from your seat for a second before nodding, two short, stressed lines between your brows. He shouldn’t have been so abrupt.

Kinder, he helps you from your seat and guides you toward the door, keeping you away from stray elbows with benevolent redirection.

Your breath curls visibly in the air when you step outside, white and dissolving until it is replaced by another, longer exhale. You wrap your arms around your torso.

“C'mon,” he urges, guiding you to his car. “Let’s get you warm.”

“Should you be driving?” you ask as he searches his pockets for the keys, standing at the car door, watching him. “And what about the others?”

“Didn’t drink,” he answers, patting his coat pockets until he finds what he’s looking for.

You frown, slowly running through the night and realizing he’s right, recalling the sparkling water dripping moisture next to his jacket sleeve. The cold and the ennui knock a lot into focus.

He clicks open the car. “And this’ll force ‘em to call an uber. Worst comes to worst, I’ll drop by later to force them home. I just want to get you home first. No drunk footballers to puke on your feet.”

He rounds around to meet you, opening the door, and waiting patiently.

“Why didn’t you drink?” you ask. You’ve seen him drink before, tipsy in that breezy way where he’s a little flirtier with a little less filter. “You won a game. If you ever deserved it, it’s now.”

“I had to be able to drive you back.” He shrugs, cocking his head in the direction of the open car door. “Speak of the devil,” he starts pointedly, reminding you of your frigidity.

Still contemplating, you climb inside with furrowed brows, following Bucky's figure as he shuts your door, jogs back to his side, and settles into the driver’s seat. Rubbing his hands together, he turns to look at you.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Uh huh.”

He clicks his tongue. “Look at that. I think you’re a little drunker than I thought.”

“I am not,” you argue, looking down at yourself and seeing nothing wrong until Bucky reaches over to pull your seatbelt over you. “Oh.”

Bucky breathes out a little laugh, amused.

“I'm just…” You contemplate for a second, sinking into the rumbling of the engine when Bucky turns the car on. Immediately, heat slaps your nose. The glass meets your temple bitingly, jolting your sentence back on track. You turn to see Bucky's attention already on you. “Happy.”

“You’re happy?” Bucky repeats pleasantly, shifting the gear into drive.

“Yes. It was a good day today.”

You feel clearer now, the edges of reality crisper as you look out the window. “I know I already said it, but I'm really proud, Bucky. You win games and ace tests and don’t celebrate with a drink to drive me home. You’re kind of great.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, glancing at you.

You hum an affirmation, inhaling deeply. At some point, Your few-sip buzz dissipated into something different.

Sober, but influenced on the darkness of the sky and the roundness of the moon. It feels safe suddenly, a rush of energy jolting you straight. You stare at Bucky's profile. “Yeah,” you confirm clearly. “It's kind of disappointing, you know.”

Bucky is caught off guard, sparing you a look when he stops at a stoplight. “What?”

“I just thought you’d be different.”

“How?” His brows are furrowed.

You take a moment to ponder. “Not so… you. More of the unforgivably arrogant and ignorant jock variety.”

“So you were expecting me to be one of those cartoon stereotypes?” he teases, looking back at the road with an easier smile.

“Kind of,” you laugh. “But you’re not and that’s really great.”

The red light from outside drapes over his features, pulled as he searches the crevices of your face. In response, it slackens slowly, from thoughtful to a little dazed as you stare back. Without meaning to, you’re leaning in at the same time he is.

His skin flips green.

You fall away from him with a surprised exhale, blinking in confusion.

It takes a second for Bucky to look away after you have, and you consider yourself lucky there’s no one else on the road during the long moment it takes for his attention to switch back to driving.

He doesn’t want to just forget what happened. He doesn’t want to move on from this yet. “What does that mean?” he asks, your compliment playing on repeat in his mind.

You stay silent, trying to figure it out yourself. “I don't… I don’t know.”

He tries to remain unbothered, glancing at you once more to catch your focus unmovingly on him. He pulls into your driveway and turns off the car.

“What about going on a date with me?” he requests, a little more serious that usual but glazed in his usual tone. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he continues. “I'll dress up in that shade of blue you think I look so good in and we’ll go out to eat at that little hole-in-the-wall restaurant I'm still impressed you found. You’ll order that same thing you always do, and we can talk about that novel you’re reading—”

He doesn’t wait for the answer you’ve given before, stepping out of the car and striding over to your side.

You gaze up at him when he opens your door, your buckle unclasped in your hand. He's kind as he always is as he helps you out, hands settling on your shoulders to steady you when you nearly trip over a ridge in the sidewalk.

“Or… or we could go take a walk around the park. Or go to the movies, or the amusement park, or do laundry or taxes or—anything as long as it’s with you.”

And maybe it’s the easy smile, with the glitter of gold pride still sewn into his lips, or the genuine kindness he’s never failed to show you under the mask of the moon. Maybe it’s the proximity. Maybe you just can’t help yourself anymore. You kiss him.

He’s frozen for a solid moment, thick enough for you to start doubting yourself, beginning to pull away when he finally reacts, practically melting into you as his hands frantically pull you closer.

He pulls away hesitantly, torturously, a second later, eyes scrutinizing. “Wait, wait, wait, are you drunk?”

You shake your head, laughing gently at the thumb that pulls gently at the skin beneath your eye to make sure, urgently tugging you back into the kiss when he’s satisfied.

“‘Had to make sure,” he mumbles against your lips. “This can’t happen when you aren’t you.”

“It’s me,” you promise, pulling back. Before you can delve into your mind too deeply, you nod suddenly. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah, okay what?” he repeats, chasing after you to kiss you a few more times.

“I'll go out with you.”

His smile drops, fingers tightening around your hips. “Wait, really?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You grasp his arms tightly. “I should at least try, right?”ey

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adrinktostopyourthirst · 1 year

Text

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Three Hundred

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: Bucky always makes sure his best friend is okay, because that is what you need. He's caring, but very passive and nonchalant, because you need it. Not him. He doesn't need that. He doesn't need you. Does he?

Warnings: 18+. Fluff and smut.

Words: 5,8OO

Your head is feeling heavy. Heavier than normal. The mellow music in the background, the rumble of the voices of your trusted friends around you and the warmth radiating from Bucky pressed against your side, all make you feel like you might go cross-eyed if you continue to pry your eyes open when they so desperately want to close.

It has been a busy week of non-stop assignments. You got up early every morning to prepare and brief each other towards the operation, then tiring yourself out during the complicated missions that required most people on the team to get involved, and if you were lucky, you’d be home just in time to collapse into your puffy bed, unable to crawl under the sheets or change your clothes. It was incredibly fun to let out your energy and be together with the entire team again, but the week is catching up to you and Natasha’s idea of having a ‘boozy night in’ backfired greatly.

Your muscles are tight with tension and your cheeks are glowing with fatigue. But you have buried yourself in the corner of the couch, Bucky’s frame blocking you from the rest, so you can comfortably swim in the atmosphere of peace and relaxation around you. As fun as the back-to-back missions had been, there were a few close calls and you never really process the relief that comes from getting out alive until all of you are sat together, talking, laughing and most importantly… unharmed.

“I’m not carrying you to bed,” Bucky grumbles under his breath, taking another swig of his beer as he keeps his eyes on Thor who is telling some strange story about a man made of stone and a creature made of blubber. You kind of clocked out after the words ‘sex club on this purple-blue planet’, which was shame because you wanted to know what it was, but you couldn’t possibly comprehend those stories at this hour.

“Yeah, I know. Just… Just wake me up,” you murmur, your voice soft and breathy as you tilt your head to rest on his shoulder, the soft jitters of his arm making you hum in delight. The bulging pressure of Bucky’s frame against your side has you struggling not to bury yourself into him as far as you possibly can.

Your best friend sighs softly, biting back a smile when you nominate him to cuddle up against. He might not be someone who likes to touch and be touched, but you always found your sneaky little ways to make him tolerate it. He couldn’t possibly pry his sleepy friend off him to fend for herself when she can barely form a coherent sentence, could he?

“Alright. I’m waking you up. Go to bed,” he orders, his voice strict, and you sit up before he can shake you off. Swallowing hard, you pry your eyes open with all your might, making Bucky turn his head to you with eyebrows raised in amusement at your devastating state.

He had already noticed earlier how your heartbeat had slowed to a heavy thump, your breathing evening out and the goosebumps appearing on your skin as the heat seeped from your body with the last remnants of your energy. He may or may not have let it happen instead of offering you the blanket on his other side so that you would nudge into his side a little. Bucky, too, found comfort in making sure his friends were around and well after a week as intense as the one they just had.

Especially you. You always have your shit together and manage just fine – in your own way that sometimes had Bucky baffled, but it seemed to work for you. Yet somehow he wanted you to relax around him. It wasn’t something he realised until it had sort of already happened, but he wanted to be the person that would allow you to let your guard down. And he is. If Bucky even captures the slightest sign of you faltering or stumbling, he’ll make sure he is just within reach in case you need him to fall into. Literally and figuratively. Like your safe haven.

And sometimes a look was enough. He didn’t even have to smile at you – thank God he didn’t – but sometimes you would frantically look around and your eyes would fall on Bucky (after he swiftly inserted himself into your sight) and your shoulders would sag. You’d give him a tight smile and return to your task with your mind at ease. He sometimes chuckled at just how easy it was to make you relax.

But never would Bucky admit that he needs to see that look of ease on your face or he will crumble and fall into a pit of disfunction. He doesn’t want to think about what would happen if something ever were to happen to you. He doesn’t need anyone. He never did. He’s just making sure you’re okay, because you need it.

“Yeah…” you mutter and push to a stand, blinking rapidly to fight the sleep in your body as you ready yourself to make way to your bed.

“I knew you’d be the first to fold!” Thor bellows with a laugh, his story interrupted and everyone turning to you, and you wave him a dismissive hand as you drag your feet over the carpet.

“We can’t all be tireless Gods,” you retort with a little less fire in your voice than you intended, making everyone breathe different octaves of soft laughs.

But you stumble over your feet, or maybe someone else’s, and fall into Steve’s lap with a gasp. He quickly steadies you with broad hands on your waist and Bucky is on his feet instantly. His hands wrap around your shoulders as he steers you away from the group.

“That’s enough outta you. Come on, sweetheart.” Bucky chuckles and you sway lightly as he walks you to your room. Falling face first into your bed, Bucky grimaces at you with a disapproving shake of his head, peeling your shoes off.

“You have got to start making your bed,” he scolds you as you crawl up to the pillows and he throws the duvet over you.

“Just because you’re a neurotic Super Soldier with endless amounts of energy to make your goddamn bed, doesn’t mean you get to judge my life style.” Your grumble is close to incoherent and open your arms wide, “Now shut up and come cuddle.”

“Absolutely not.” He huffs, but you catch onto the sleeve of his blue Henley, pulling him towards the bed. He stumbles and topples over you, giving you a death glare as he raises his face, but you quickly capture him under the blanket and crawl into his side.

You purse your lips to stop the devious smile tugging at them, knowing that a powerful and trained Super Soldier wouldn’t let himself be pulled into a bed by a flimsy piece of fabric, unless he wanted to. So you bury your face into his shoulder and squeeze him as his scents engulfs you, warmth glowing against you like a furnace.

“Such a baby,” you mumble and wait for his stiffness to dissipate, humming softly when he gives in by wrapping his metal arm around your back and stroking his flesh fingers through your hair.

“I hate you,” he grumbles and sinks down, both of you laying in a heap of limbs into the softness of your bed as you finally let the endless depths of your subconscious submerge you.

As long as you’re okay.

…

“You okay, Buck?” you ask with a gentle frown when see him slump from his bathroom with a towel around his neck. He’s wearing simple leisure wear, nothing more than some sweats and a white t shirt and it makes your insides warm with how huggable he looks. Though it seems that if anyone needs the hug, it’s him.

“Yeah. Just a rough few nights.”

“Hmm…” you hum softly and turn on the sofa to face him. “Wanna watch movies tonight instead of trying to fall asleep?”

“All night?”

“Sure. Yeah, why not?”

“You can’t stay up all night…” he drawls, reining in the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You cheer silently at the sight and the first hint of his happiness.

“Sure I can! Oh, come on… I have to defend my honour now. I can easily pull an all-nighter.” You try to sound convincing, but Bucky raises his brows in an unimpressed glare.

“Liar.”

“So, you’re in?” you ask hopefully and you can see the soldier faltering.

“Can’t be worse than staring at my ceiling,” he admits with a shrug and flings the towel to the side before slumping into the sofa next to you. This side of the compound was usually empty around this time, most of the crew having retreated to bed or having settled to hang out in one of the larger common rooms. But Bucky and you enjoyed basking in each others’ silence sometimes, a little further away from the group. Not that you are the silent type. But Bucky doesn’t mind.

“What kind of movies do you like?” you ask him, already flicking through the multiple apps on the TV that could stream your next movie.

“I don’t know,” and he doesn’t really care. He isn’t here to watch a movie, he is here to drag you to bed when you inevitably fall asleep. He’d pretty much watch anything. It’s not that you fall asleep all the time and he is like the babysitter to send you to bed, but he rarely slept the way you could, so he always ended up the last to be awake. Little does Bucky know, you rarely sleep the way you do when Bucky is around.

“What do you mean you ‘don’t know’? Aren’t you supposed to have a list of movies to watch to fit into this century?” you frown up at him, referring to his little culture list in Steve’s old notebook.

“Steve’s book? Yeah, no. That would be a list of my victims,” he tells you dryly and you punch his arm, making him chuckle. You truly are the only one he can joke to about that. He would choke the life out of most people for referring to something so personal, but the traumas that constantly seem to roil and simmer inside of him, quiet down to a quiet lake of emotion whenever you touch upon it. His bones and muscles slacken when you merge gently with his old pains.

“Alright, funny man. What’s it going to be? Action or Disney?”

“Disney? Really?” His brows relax when he looks at you, a stoic look on his face to dare you to get him to watch a Disney movie.

“You know the fairy tale of Rapunzel?” You grin like a fucking child at him and he narrows his stare to stop the alternative from creeping up on his features.

“Yes…” He retreats his face warily as he waits for you to elaborate on your bold choice.

“Oh, you’re going to love Tangled!”

“Isn’t that a kids movie?” He frowns.

“It’s a fucking masterpiece.”

…

“You’re drooling over a cartoon,” he mumbles, eyes still on the screen.

“Flynn is the love of my life. Now shut up,” you spit at him, fumbling a full claw op popcorn from his lap as you watch intently. Bucky’s breath hitches at the faint rumble above his crotch and he scrunches his eyes shut for a moment, deciding to redirect his energy from between his legs to teasing you further.

“You buy into that whole grumpy guy, sunshine girl -bullshit?” he grumbles, judgement clear in his voice as his stare remains on the bright screen.

You turn to him with you mouth hanging open and a stupid heat creeping up your cheeks. How does he know about that? Something that specific…

“How do you…?” you stammer and he gives you an unimpressed glare.

“Read some of your books and saw some shit on the internet.”

“What side on the internet are you on?” you question him further, attention no longer on the animated motion picture. You’ll get back to the book thing, not yet ready to confront him about that. There are more important matters at hand.

“What do you mean?” he feigns a frown with a playful smirk and you narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. This stubborn, innocent and old man would not indulge into modern culture. Surely, not…

“N-never mind…” you mutter after a brief silence. You decide not to even try and explain the different sides of the internet to your friend.

“I’m the sunshine in this relationship, you know,” Bucky mutters after a long silence and you snort a laugh, making him chuckle as soon as he hears your delight.

“Obviously.”

…

Curled up on the sofa, you pull your knees up to your chest, nose buried so far into your book, you can’t see anything but the black words on the worn pages. You should know better than to read this …filth in public, but the chapter snuck up on you and you can’t. stop. reading.

He dropped to his knees, eyes drawn up to watch her as his palms slid up the back of her calves. Slowly, so slowly, his hands glided further and further up until they slipped under the hem of her dress. Fuck – you’ve waited over three-hundred pages for this. His mouth came closer and the pounding between her legs increased with every inch he stole from between them. She remembered his lips. The feel of them on her own. Oh, to feel them somewhere else… doing that thing with his tongue. Her knees nearly buckled, if it weren’t for his stare pinning her down.

“Hey.”

You nearly fling the book to the other side of the smaller common room at the sound of Bucky’s voice and clench your thighs to will the pounding between your own legs to settle down already. But your wide eyes have already been caught by Bucky and his brows are raised with amusement, the crinkles in his face not helping your little situation.

“What are you reading? Didn’t hear me come in?” he asks, slowly walking over and crossing his arms over his chest. He looks like he already knows, his dominant glower at your hunched frame in the corner of the couch challenging you. Lie to me, I dare you, his eyes seem to say as they glitter with mischief.

“No. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” you easily deflect his first question. “You and your trained sneaking methods.”

Closing the book and hiding it in your lap, you swallow hard as if resetting your feelings, the whining disappointment of being interrupted in the middle of that scene.

“What are you reading?” he tries again and you remain your empty gaze on him, thinking so hard of any answer to give him.

“A book.”

“Duh. What kind of book?”

“…Romance.”

“Romance?”

“Yes.”

He stays silent for a moment, his gaze rolling over your features. It isn’t often he allows himself the pleasure of someone else’s discomfort, but it is just too fun with you. And he isn’t stupid. He had to wait in your room once while you were still taking a shower, because you are always so slow when you shower, and he couldn’t help but snoop a little at the time. There was a time he used to enjoy reading a lot, it helped him get more familiar with all the languages he was trained in. Though he had never considered the light and bright storylines that were scattered through your bookcases. Bored, he had leafed through one of them and halted abruptly when his trained eye caught some disturbingly distinct words that he had only seem in a porn site search bar.

So he knows the kind of books you read and has to rein in his wonder at the balls you had for reading that in public, rein in his chuckle because of course you would get a kick out of reading that shit in public. Bucky never thought you were the innocent type, he knows better than that. The dirty nonsense that would leave your mouth after a drink, or when you’re too tired to think of the consequences, told him plenty.

He liked it. Bucky didn’t really allow himself to indulge in fantasies like you could and hadn’t been able to admit to his preferences when you asked him about it those few times. He had done some sexual stuff after returning from Wakanda, but it had always been a bit hasty and vanilla, too uncomfortable for his liking. He silently curses himself, because of course he is uncomfortable. It’s a trait he might never shed, but the things he would do if he could just let loose for once. That thought alone could send his cock skyward.

“You’re reading porn again, aren’t you?” He cocks an eyebrow at you and you let out a nervous laugh, opening your mouth to say something, but deciding against lying in the end.

“Way to expose me, Barnes.” You roll your eyes and he grins widely at you.

“It’s the way you are pressing your legs together that is exposing you, sweetheart,” he taunts, his voice having dropped an octave, and you stiffen at his words. Bucky has never acknowledged anything sexual, even when you so openly talk about it all the time, and it surprises you how natural it sounds rolling off his tongue.

“I wasn’t doing that,” you murmur, a tad shy all of a sudden.

Bucky tilts his head at you. “You telling me you’re not thoroughly turned on right now?”

“Bucky!”

“Oh, come on! Indulge me,” he nudges your knee with his metal hand and it shoots electricity up the limb to flutter in your belly. “Read it to me.”

“What?”

“Show me what the hype of written porn is about.” He shrugs and leans sideways against the back of the sofa, crossing his arms over his chest. “I can’t imagine it is better than watching it on video.”

He’s lying. Bucky likes porn as much as most men, but it is a quick fix. He can definitely see the appeal in dragging out the build up and reading from someone’s point of view. But admitting that wouldn’t get you all squirmy and uncomfortable and he finds he quite likes to tease you about this stuff. You always tease him, why not return the favour?

“Absolutely not,” you breathe.

“Pussy.”

“Bucky, I am not reading porn to you, are you insane?!”

But Bucky has already noticed your determined answer and he is too impatient to play this out a bit longer, so he quickly snatches the book from your hold and dives off the sofa, almost roaring a laugh at the impossibly slow response time you have to his actions.

Opening the book to the last page you ended on, he increases the distance between you as his eyes search the words. “She remembered his lips. The feel of them on her own. Oh, to feel them somewhere else… doing that thing with his tongue. Her knees nearly buckled, if it weren’t for his stare pinning her down,” he starts, his voice husky as he reads. “His eyes darkened as they finally landed on her throbbing, warm, aching –”

“Bucky!”

“ –cunt,” he smirks and tries to focus on the words in front of him, even though he suddenly realises who he is picturing as the girl in the book, his brain having latched onto the first person in his thoughts. “She felt as if she might pass out when she felt the fiery trail that the tip of his tongue traced up her bare thigh. So slow, so painfully slow. She couldn’t help the pulsating wave contracting her weeping pussy, another when he dragged his index finger through her folds.” Fuck, this fucking book. “His cock twitched at the feeling of her and the simple sound of the hitch in her breath. He couldn’t help but dip his finger in slightly. Just to test the waters, feel her around his digit. Scorching hot and fluttering with need…” Bucky drifts off.

“Bucky, please stop?” You ask him and his eyes, dark and heavy, snap to your frame on the couch. Your voice has dropped significantly and Bucky can’t help but notice the strangeness in your tone, pleading him to stop reading. Not because you’re embarrassed, no, but because it was turning you on.

And Bucky can’t help but let his nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, the air around him thick with your arousal. He can’t possibly make the distinction of whether you are turned on by the book, or by him, but he finds himself slowly caring less. Something tugs at him again. In his chest, his belly, his cock.

You’re uncomfortable. Horny and uncomfortable, aching and needy. He can read it on your face. And Bucky’s protective instinct can’t help but instantly want to make sure you’re feeling better. As opposed to the normal situations, a back rub, a nap, or a glass of water won’t help you this time.

And there you are. This wonderful, comfortable, beautiful person. Always teasing him, making his life better by making it worse. And something he hasn’t realised until now, a person who is completely and utterly… sexy. That sparkle in your eyes, those fleshy thighs, your lips, your hair, your everything. And your mind, especially. How it takes his body nothing to instantly respond to you, like an answer to your call.

Right now, you are calling again. Calling for pleasure and relief. Bucky’s legs stiffen to stop him from marching over and answering that call like he answers all the others.

“I’ll stop,” he replies stoically, shutting the book gently and walking over to you. He reaches out the book for you to take, but when your hands, albeit hesitantly, wrap around the cover, Bucky doesn’t let go and tugs both your hands to him slightly. “Is that what you want?”

His eyes are piercing into yours and you nod frantically, “Yes, I can’t take you reading any longer.”

He clarifies, “I mean the book. The scene – is that what you want?”

Your brows pull together and you search his face, disappointed to be unable to read it. “To have someone eat me out? Yeah… I can’t say I would mind it.”

Those words, followed by your breathy chuckle has Bucky’s fingers curl until his nails dig into the cover of the book. You talked about sex with him sometimes, but to hear you name such a filthy and delicious act so plainly? He doesn’t know how much more he can take. Is that what you felt when you heard him read? Because he will read you a bedtime story every night if this is how it makes you feel.

Bucky reluctantly lets go of the book and takes a seat on the other side of the sofa, running his hand through his hair as he takes a deep breath.

“Then why not go and get it?” he asks, staring ahead even if he feels your eyes burn into his side.

“No one will live up to the expectations of a book, Bucky,” you sigh and Bucky hates his name on your lips like that. Filled with disappointment. Absolutely hates it.

“Sure they do,” he shrugs and finally decides to face you, “all you need is that build-up.”

You swallow hard and your chest freezes with an inhale. “A build-up?”

“Yes,” he hums. “Those three-hundred pages of tension, a little teasing, some dirty talk…”

You roll your eyes with a low laugh. “Right. How realistic of you, Bucky.”

He likes that tone a lot more. His name from your mouth like that. Like he might be one of your favourite people. “Easy to get, sweetheart. We have a whole lot more than three-hundred pages under our belt.”

The nickname and the simple insinuation of his words make you curl up tighter in the cushions. You do. You have plenty of build-up. Plenty of teasing and tension, as far as you are concerned. But you never considered your friend to have experienced the same thing. You felt like a burden to him, always seeking him out and him grumbling as he helped you. But you could endlessly wonder. Or you could ask. Who is he to be putting you on the spot?

“What are you suggesting, Bucky?” you ask, even daring to sit up and lean in closer slightly. You should have expected him to not recoil too easily though. He wouldn’t even show you a weakness, despite your close relationship. No, he would lean into whatever you would give him.

“I think you know what it is I’m suggesting.”

You leap. Fuck it. “Say it.”

“You really want me to say it out loud?”

“Would I be reading books if I didn’t?”

He laughs at that, his lids lowering when his gaze narrows back in on you. His hand, draped over the back of the couch, is so close to your shoulder. He licks his lips.

“Say it,” you repeat.

“I’m suggesting,” he drawls, his voice having deepened, “that you spread your legs for me.”

You can’t believe it. Can’t believe he just said that. And how it sounded so natural, something you never expected. But you swallow the primitive response to his words that has your whole body reeling. You will play his part. You will find out just how far Bucky is willing to take his bluff. Sure, you had well over three-hundred pages of foreplay, but also well over three-hundred pages of trust to shatter with one stupid decision. However, you cannot currently find one good reason – not a single one – not to risk it all for him.

So you spread your legs for him.

His eyes widen slightly, an outside power pulling his sight down to the very core that you’ve exposed to him. He didn’t think it was possible, but his mouth waters, the absence of your taste on his lips grating his nerves. He drags his eyes back to yours, only to see you surveying him closely.

“Everyone is out. If I do this…” his voice is low and descends into a rasp.

“No going back,” you finish for him.

“I don’t want to go back.” There is no mistaking his words, his tone clear.

“Me neither.”

“Tell me,” he orders, his warm palms wrapping around your ankles, his thumbs stroking the skin of your shins. Even the metal is warm. Your breathing deepens and becomes heavier.

“I don’t want to go back,” you say. “I want this.”

“What? What do you want?” he asks, surely testing how far you’ll be willing to go with your confessions. You stay quiet, your eyes peering down into his as his hands slowly stroke up your spread legs, his fingertips grazing underneath the fabric of your shorts. “You want my tongue between your legs?”

Your pussy convulses at his words and you swallow hard. Fucking hell.

“Bucky.” It’s a whisper.

“I bet that book warmed you up for me, didn’t it?” he croons and you nod stiffly. “I wonder if it’s enough. I wonder if I need to spread you open a bit further.” His thumbs dig into inside of your upper thighs, spreading you open more. You pulse in answer, your chest rising and falling deeply.

“Why don’t you try and find out?”

Bucky snickers softly, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. “And there I was, thinking you’d be innocent.”

“You never thought I was innocent,” you breathe, the circling of his thumbs against your skin distracting you. More slick gathers between your legs and you wonder if Bucky can spot it through your shorts.

“Let’s just say I never thought I’d get to see this side of you,” he answers and licks his lips with his eyes burning into your warm skin. His fingers start peeling at the fabric and you wiggle your hips impatiently, ready to raise them and serve him.

“You severely underestimate yourself.” Your voice is quieter, more serious. You hope he can decode your vague confession. How much he means to you, how there is no one more worthy to speak to you like Bucky does, no one you could want more.

He stays quiet at that, however, his eyes raising to yours. His stare remains impassive, his eyes darting between yours as if trying to find something. But you stare back just as hard, unflinching, unfaltering. Something flashes across his face, a determination of some sorts, and he gives a quick nudge upward with his chin. An order. Raise your hips.

Serve me.

Your breath halts in your throat while you do as you’re told, lifting your hips as Bucky slowly peels your shorts off, your panties right along with them. Heart pounding at the relentless vulnerability of being naked before him, you stiffen. He twists you by his grip on your thighs, leaning you back against the back rest of the sofa and kneeling down between your bare legs. His eyes are on you.

“I have to warn you,” he starts and you gape at him, expecting some cocky remark that will make you roll your eyes at him. “If we do this – if you let me between your legs – it will not be the one time. I will be coming back for seconds and you will be coming, too. A lot. Tonight. Tomorrow. A week from now. This is it.”

You swallow hard, your eyes wide and frozen onto his relentlessly handsome face. He isn’t joking. In fact, you don’t think you have ever seen him this serious before. And for Bucky, that is saying something. But for him to admit something like that, hint towards borderline addiction when it comes to pleasing you – it does things to your heart and pussy that you cannot describe.

“Kiss me first,” you tell him. You need to kiss him first.

Bucky smiles – smiles – and lifts up on his knees, cupping your neck and pulling you forward instantly, giving you no time to come back from your request. When his lips touch yours, you let out a tiny gasp, the feeling of his lips against you making your chest lurch and your brain scream. His lips part and you moan softly into the kiss when your tongues meet, the strawberry texture of it making you want to whine. Instead, your hands grasp the collar of his shirt and pull him closer. He hums contently against you and both your breathing becomes more laboured.

Bucky pulls back a few times before diving back in, dragging his teeth over your lips and teasing you with the absence of him. Until you are a wet and throbbing mess between your legs. It is when you start wriggling in your seat, that Bucky chuckles and pulls back a final time.

“Getting a bit antsy?” he asks, his hands stroking your thighs as he sits back on his knees.

“Over three-hundred pages, Bucky…” you remind him.

He smiles again and pushes your knees apart once more, leaning forward as his lips press against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You lean back and watch him closely, your attention solely focused on the rugged man between your legs.

His thumb starts to slowly rub over your clit and you gasp at the touch, it somehow feeling incredibly unnatural to have Bucky in that position. It being his touch that is causing you so much pleasure – and pain. God, you’re throbbing painfully now and you cannot help the whine squeaking from your lips.

“Shh, I know. I’ll get to it.”

It does make you relax, his words and his tone, and you make yourself sink into the couch, your hands reaching down to run through his hair. He smirks and locks his eyes with yours, slowly – so slowly – leaning down to replace his thumb with his mouth. And you can’t help the heavenly sigh that spills from you when it finally makes contact with your aching core.

“Oh Bucky,” you moan and tug softly on his hair as you throw your head back. He’s there in seconds, bringing you to that long-awaited peak. Apparently, you don’t need much when it comes to Bucky, the man himself being foreplay enough for you to launch towards release.

“Mhm,” he hums, “that’s it. That’s good.”

The warmth of his tongue is making you shiver, the slurping sounds coming from between your legs making you squeeze your eyes shut and throw your head back. If only to focus on holding out, on not drenching his face. It’s sinful, the protective, passive and gorgeous Bucky Barnes on his knees for you. Capable of destruction and so much violence, unrelenting towards everyone and a grump in his social life – but he’s on his knees for you.

Your moans and words of encouragement are growing incoherent, your belly tightening as Bucky hauls you closer to avoid any distance between your drenched pussy and his mouth. He’s slow, meticulous and ravenous as he eats you, his fingers rolling into your flesh as if he’s savouring every place where he’s touching you.

He is.

It’s unreal, to have such a beautiful woman above him, moaning and panting and grabbing at him while he does something he enjoys so much. His mouth won’t stop watering. God, he’s addicted. He has to remind himself to breathe when his tongue is desperate to make the pitch of your voice raise, get you to your release. He has to know what it is like to see you come, feel you come, hear you come – taste your come.

He needs you, he needs you, he needs you.

Then his finger gently traces the inside of your entrance, wiggling around to spread you open, and you start choking on your moans, your breaths sounding outright painful and your fingers curling around his wrist and into the cushion below you.

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky!”

He hums and wraps his lips around your clit once more, rolling it into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it. And you crash, the tightness in your body coming to a high before every muscle and tendon snaps into pure euphoria. You buck and roll your hips into Bucky’s mouth, riding the waves of your orgasm with breathy, raspy moans that make Bucky’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

Violent tremors rack through your body as you come down and Bucky ceases his assault on your pussy, which is still pulsating heavily from the warm orgasm that seeps from your body. You finally open your eyes, looking at a Bucky who is completely alert and satisfied.

“Tomorrow,” he licks his lips clean, eyes shimmering with delight, “you’re going to read that chapter to me. And you’re going to sit on my face while you do so. If you manage to keep reading, I’ll make sure you keep coming.”

As long as you’re okay.

And maybe a bit better than okay.

#FRIENDS TO LOVERS BABYYYYYYY #its been so long i apologise #i shouldnt be writing lol #anywaysss you know i love writing about head and here it fuckin is again #pls lemme know what you guys thing (and if it is complete trash)#miss you guys #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #writing

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nickfowlerrr · 10 months

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the truth is this

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader (friends to lovers)

warnings: fluff, kissing, very slightly edging on heavy petting, mention of an erection, no smut but still 18+ only.

words: 2.9k

notes: loosely based on these prompts: platonic forehead kisses starting to give u the feels. LIKE ITS SOMETHING MAGICAL. and "is that really all 'A' is to you?" thank you so much to @anthony-sharma for the request! thank you in advance for reading and as always, feedback and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated!

"So you're telling me you didn't notice the way she was looking at you just now?" Sam asked skeptically.

"I'm telling you I have no idea what you're talking about," Bucky rebuffed, his brows furrowing in agitation.

"Well I do know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about you and her finally pulling your heads out of your asses and realizing you like each other."

"No shit we like each other, Sam. She's one of my best friends."

"Is that really all she is to you?" he questioned pointedly.

Bucky stopped in his retreat as he took in Sam's words. He instantly knew his answer, but still told himself had to think about it. Because although his thoughts were flowing with all of the things you were to him, all things that went way beyond the scope of just friendship, he was still too scared to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else.

Sam watched as Bucky swallowed hard, his jaw tightening and brows furrowed even more. It looked as if he was blinking away his thoughts when he finally looked back at Sam. An annoyed look taking over his features once again. He didn't say anything, just grumbled in response before he continued out of the room.

For nearly three hours after the little confrontation he had with Sam, Bucky raged with himself in the privacy of his own room. His head was swirling and he could barely keep track of what part of him was winning the argument until a knock came on his door.

Not just any knock, your knock. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was expecting you, he had just lost track of time with the internal struggle he had been trying to sort out.

Something changed, though, when he heard you. All thoughts of not acknowledging his feelings, in part to not wreck what he already had with you, went right out the window.. kinda.

He could accept the true depth of his feelings for you, but he'd be damned if he spoke them aloud until he knew that there'd be no shot at hurting your friendship if you didn't feel the same.

Sam's words came back to him as he considered that you didn't. The way she looked at you...

How had you looked at him? Were all the signs there and he was just blind to them? Well, he'd be sure to pay close attention tonight. See if he could see what Sam saw.

He got to the door and opened it for you, greeting you with a smile as you walked into his room and instantly wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. When you pulled back ever so slightly, peering up at him with sparkling eyes, Bucky swore he felt himself get weak in the knees.

Your smile was the most beautiful thing to him. He'd do anything to get one out of you, though he really didn't have to try all that hard. Your usually stoic demeanor, or resting bitch face as Kate had called it, was rarely ever broken; but as the rest of the team noticed long ago, Bucky seemed to have a knack for breaking it quite easily.

It was like you just couldn't help your smile when he was around. You'd always get more talkative and seemed a lot more approachable than when you were alone. It wasn't like you were a mean person, far from it, you just had a bit of an intimidating presence most of the time. You were a quiet person and weren't typically the most open. It wasn't something you put on, it was just your natural disposition. One of the reasons you and Bucky had gotten so close so quickly was because he was one of the only people to not have been put off by your introversion; he wasn't hesitant to talk to you, in fact, the moment he had seen you, he just had this feeling that you and him would get along swell. And he was right.

He'd gone up to you and introduced himself, and you gave him your name with a small smile in return. You and Bucky had a lot in common and though it took you a little while, you soon found yourself more comfortable around Bucky than you had been with anyone else...ever.

You guys could talk for ages and never bore, or you could sit in each other's silence comfortably for hours on end, not needing anything other than each other's company.

Neither of you realized how close you had gotten or how you appeared inseparable until it started getting pointed out by everyone else.

Repeatedly.

Over and over again.

Whether it was playful jokes at your mutual expense during meetings, or pestering whispers in your ears by your friends trying to bring your attentions to what everyone else could already see, to what everyone had seen from the very start of your and Bucky's friendship: That it was so definitely more than just friendship.

He wasn't sure what it was about Sam's comments this time that finally had him taking it seriously. Maybe it was because he felt it too. And truthfully, he always had, but maybe he just couldn't keep pushing the thoughts away. Maybe... maybe it was because he knew deep down, the love he felt for you was way more than just platonic. Maybe he finally realized that he was well and truly in love with you, and maybe he had a bit of hope burning bright that you felt the same way.

Bucky collects himself as he gazes into your eyes, feeling like if he stares too long he'll lose himself to you completely. But he really doesn't think he'd mind one bit. You pretty much have him already.

"So," you breathe as you begrudgingly pull away from his warmth, "did you decide? Movie or tv show?" you ask as you step past him further into his room.

He shuts his door before turning and following you to the kitchenette where you easily find the stash of candy Bucky keeps for your "movie" nights.

"Uhhh, you pick," he says as you pass him once again, heading to the couch and throwing your stockpile of sweets on the coffee table before you as you get comfortable.

"Okay," you agree, grabbing the remote and scrolling through the titles to find something at least halfway decent to put on.

Your eyes flick over to Bucky and you realize he's still wearing the clothes he had on earlier while you're in your pajamas, like you always are on movie night.

"Why are your clothes still on?" you ask as you peer up at him from your spot on the couch.

Bucky's breath catches in his throat as his heart nearly stops beating entirely, heat rising to his cheeks. In the same moment your eyes widen as you hear yourself and your breath stutters for just a second. Why did you say it like that? you chide yourself. Wishful thinking, some other part of your brain snickers. You push the thought away. Inappropriate.

"Huh?" Bucky asks, though he heard you full well.

"I mean, you're not in your pajamas," you clarify.

"Right, yeah, I uh, I was a bit distracted before you got here," he admits as he absentmindedly rubs the back of his neck. "I'm gonna change, you put something on. I'll be right back."

Bucky changes his clothes quickly and returns to you just as you find something to put on.

You watch him enter the room and laugh as you note that you're kinda matching now. You're both in gray sweats and as you wear a black long sleeve v-neck, Bucky has on a short sleeve v-neck in the same color.

Bucky notices as you do, "I swear this wasn't on purpose," he chuckles as he settles down next to you.

You titter as you start the movie and adjust in your seat to get more comfortable. And by more comfortable, you really just meaning scooting over to be closer to Bucky.

Bucky watches you as you move to be closer to him, smiling to himself as he realizes you're trying to be cool about it, trying to not make it too obvious. It's cute, but he really doesn't mind. In fact, the closer you are the happier he is. Your thigh brushes his as you keep a bit of space between your upper body and his chest.

Bucky fights off the urge to grab your legs and pull them into his lap but he can't fight the urge he has to pull you in closer.

His arm comes around your right side as he pulls you into him. You look up at him in a bit of surprise, but he doesn't return your gaze, he keeps his eyes set on the screen before him.

You blink in wonder before you look back at the screen too. You bite your lip to keep from smiling at his unexpected action and settle into his hold, scootching closer as you recline against him and let his hand rest on the curve of your waist meeting your hip.

You feel like you’d been dropping hint after hint, purposefully, these past two weeks after a long night of talking with Sam and Nat when you were finally able to put a name to your feelings; the realization you had entirely fallen for your best friend was maybe a bit pulled out of you by them but it was true nonetheless.

You’d stopped holding yourself back the way you normally did when it came to touches and hugs lately, hoping maybe Bucky would get the hint and you wouldn’t have to say it outright.. at least not first.

Admittedly, you could feel the tiniest bit of awkwardness - or maybe tension was the better word, between you and him at the moment. Not entirely unpleasant, but still it was there. At least it had been for a minute. But soon as Bucky settled his hand on your hip, that all faded as soon as it appeared. It was completely comfortable, it felt right, being this close to him. Though, truthfully, it always felt right when Bucky around.

As you fought your smile and Bucky’s hand gently squeezed your hip unconsciously, your heart warmed. Maybe he was finally picking up on what you were trying to do and hopefully the reason why.

Sam and Nat had been sure to let you know it was obvious that he felt the same for you, but still you were nervous to come right out with it.

Slow and steady, you remind yourself. No need to rush things anyway. You’d rather him come to the same realization you had on his own time, not yours.

But god, you hoped he really felt the same.

Bucky takes a peek down at you once he feels your eyes are off of him. He smiles to himself at how perfect this is. How comfortable you both are with the more intimate touches, despite neither of you bringing it up. It just feels natural.

So natural, he isn't really thinking much when he leans down and places a gentle kiss to your forehead. When he catches himself doing it, he zeros in on your reaction to it. It's not like he hadn't done it before, but any time he had it was usually in parting, as customary for you guys as a hug.

This was clearly more intimate. A show of affection he wanted to give you, no other reason than that.

He admires the soft fluttering of your lashes and the way you lean further into him, letting your head rest on his chest.

For half a second, he sees you worry you've made a mistake as he pulls his arm from around you but when he gently takes hold of your chin and turns you to face him, time seems to stand still as you gaze at one another.

You wait with bated breath as you search his bright eyes that are gleaming down at you. He can hear the change in the rhythm of your heartbeat and as he lets his eyes flit to your lips, he swears he hears the sharp intake of air you breathe as your eyes fall to his own lips before returning to his stare.

The next thing he knows, Bucky is holding your gorgeous face in his hands before he leans in closer and takes your lips in his. It's slow and gentle as he takes his time savoring your first kiss. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers your hands on his as you return the kiss, and it quickly turns a bit more fervent. Like you've both been waiting forever for this exact moment to happen.

You pull your legs up onto the couch as you turn and move closer to Bucky. You're not thinking as you straddle his lap, the kiss only growing deeper and more intent with each second that passes.

Your hands leave Bucky's as you move them to stabilize yourself without full on sitting in his lap, one hand behind his neck and the other on the couch behind him. Bucky's own hands find their place on your hips before he pulls you down, forcing you down on his lap.

You moan into his mouth as he grabs a handful of your ass and you feel him growing slightly beneath you.

You have to break the kiss to breathe, both of you panting heavily as you press your forehead to his, nose to nose as you breathe one another in. You can't help the smile that breaks out on your face as you laugh breathily, gripping his neck as you shake your head in disbelief.

You place a soft kiss to his lips once more as he holds you to him.

"Sorry," Bucky begins, though he looks to be the furthest thing from it as he smiles that charming smile of his. "I just.. I think I've wanted to do that for a while now. It just felt right."

"You don't have to apologize," you smile softly in turn as you play with the stray hairs curled at the nape of his neck. "I think I've wanted you to do that for a while now. And it did," you breathe with a nod, "it definitely felt right."

"I wanna do more of this," he murmurs against your lips after he places another kiss to yours.

"Me too," you agree with a peck of your own. "I think I wanna make out with you," you muse.

One side of his mouth slants up in a smirk as his hands run up your sides, "I think I want you to make out with me, too," he says, amused before going in for another kiss. You both smile into it and you swear your heart is near bursting as your tummy flutters in your happiness.

"There's something I need to tell you first," he says seriously as he parts just slightly from you.

His hands rubbing up and down your back keep you from worrying as he effortlessly soothes you.

He maintains eye contact as you wait for him to continue.

"I think, - no, I know," he corrects himself. "I love you," he breathes your name as part of his confession.

You move your hand from the couch and gently hold his stubbly cheek instead, thumb rubbing over the skin of his cheek softly.

You smile again, holding his eye as you lean into him before you kiss him slow and deep, trying to get all of the things you're feeling across to him, but most namely, the main one. The love.

You part from him gently as he follows you, mindlessly chasing your lips before catching himself.

He blinks up at you as you perch over him slightly.

"I love you, too, Buck," you nearly whisper as you caress his cheek. "This doesn't change anything, ya know," you add.

He furrows his brow in slight confusion at your words.

You laugh lightly at his expression before continuing, "You're still my best friend. Nothing's gonna change that."

"Wouldn't expect it to," he smiles.

It's quiet between you for a moment before you speak again.

"Promise," you urge softly.

"Promise?"

"Promise nothing's gonna change that," you say as you look down at his chest, moving your idle hand to play with the chain you find there.

"I promise, hey" he says sincerely as he puts two fingers under your chin and has you meet his eye once more, "I promise."

"I don't wanna lose you."

"You won't," he reassures you before suddenly turning you both and flipping you on your back as he leans over you. You gaze up at him a little breathless as you titter.

"Okay," you whisper your trust, your arms reaching up to wrap around his thick neck, pulling him down closer to you.

"Okay," he echos before brushing his lips against yours once more.

The movie is long forgotten as you and Bucky spend the rest of the night completely wrapped up in one another. Talking, touching, just being with each other. The way you were always meant to. It was comfortable, easy. And you couldn't ask for more as you felt entirely whole and at peace in his strong arms promising to never let you go.

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes drabble #bucky x plus size!reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky x reader #best friend!bucky x reader #friends to lovers #another day another drabble that turns into a oneshot despite my best efforts #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic

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wintermischief · 11 months

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Bucky x Reader Friends To Lovers/Mutual Pining Trope Fic Recs (part one)

18+ ONLY. Writing may contain mature content. Mostly Bucky Barnes x F! and GN!Reader. Please show support to these amazing writers!!

❗️ PLEASE MESSAGE ME IF YOU’D LIKE ME TO REMOVE YOUR FIC OR IF I MADE A MISTAKE❗️

The Apprentice @chrisevansredbelt

Grilled Cheese And Other Love Languages @bucky-bucket-barnes

B.B Boy @bucky-bucket-barnes

A Half Naked Nurse And Wrong Ideas | Part 2 @urimaginespimp

Do I Even Have A Chance? @noceurous

I Need You To Have Me | As Long As You Have Me @noceurous

One Simple Touch @likeahorribledream

Hearsay @jadedvibes

Listen To Me, Not Just My Words @lilacletter

Water Bottle @cloudybarnes

You @lovelybarnes

Baby @lovelybarnes

Truth @lovelybarnes

Juxtaposition @lovelybarnes

Honey, Dumpling @sparklefics

Silent Girl + The Winter Soldier @kinanabinks

Ponytails @bbyboybucket

Aching @bbyboybucket

Admit It @ghostofskywalker

Dear January @writing-for-marvel

Hush, Baby @noctumbra

Tap @/houseravenclaws

Worth The Wait @littleredwolf

What Took You So Long? @bowersbubbles

Perfect For Me @buckyswintersoldiermask

It’s Always Been You @sunshinebuckybarnes

Always Been Yours @sunshinebuckybarnes

Sugar @sunshinebuckybarnes

Guys Night @/teamcap4bucky

Wrong Number @/teamcap4bucky

Aisle 4 @buckyhoney

How Bucky Falls In Love With You (headcanon) @chennqingg

Massage @namorsinta

Just Maybe @namorsinta

Make A Move @beefybuckrrito

Who Are You? @bxcketbarnes

Five Sweaters To Make Me Want You @sebbytrash

A Shore Thing @buckymorelikefuckme

Cry Baby @buckymorelikefuckme

My Everyday @pellucid-constellations

Starry Starry Night @jobean12-blog

Cosmic Love | Part 2 @jobean12-blog

Been Here All Along @jobean12-blog

Here (In Your Arms) @sleepypanda27

Like I Want You | Part 2 @tmpestuous

Some Other Guy @espinosaurusrexex

Nightmares @ro-is-struggling

Getting Close @rogerswifesblog

Open Your Heart @vibraniumarm06-bucket

To Be Seen @tarithenurse

Make It Reality @buckybarnesandmarvel

Three Hundred @adrinktostopyourthirst

She’s Not Mad @subwaysurf45

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bestfriend!bucky #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader friends to lovers #bucky barnes x reader mutual pining

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leverage-ot3 · 1 year

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say what you want, sambucky and hardisoneliot are the same ship in different fonts:

insufferable coworker

serving looks on the job

camaraderie

it’s been a long hard day

bro power

hugs, of course

totally not in love

and their chaotic (iconic) first meetings

so if you sambucky fans want a smart witty tech guy in love with a smart grumpy punchy guy, I highly recommend leverage! five seasons plus the reboot that is running that has two seasons so far

#look it’s all about hating your coworker to being willing to die for them and in love with them pipeline #enemies to loathed coworkers to friends to found family to lovers pipeline #parker is there too for the ot3 of course but for the purpose of this post ykyk #I’m not explaining the last photo watch the show for yourself #whatever you think it is it’s five times funnier #sometimes I think about how that eliot smiling at hardison pic was from season ONE and I combust. seASON ONE YALL #O N E #sambucky #hardison x eliot #leverage ot3 #parker x hardison x eliot #marvel #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes #sam wilson #alec hardison #eliot spencer #mlm #lgbt #mine #sometimes I like to imagine they’re in the same universe #i love those fics #I’m not into marvel too much anymore but I love the fics where eliot and sam are exes or that eliot is related to bucky #popular posts #1k

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buckrecs · 10 months

Note

i wanted to request hockey player!bucky au or like any kinda sport but preferably hockey or baseball because i’ve only read like 3 fics about that AU but im obsessed with it

Athlete!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

I didn’t put any boxer bucky fics btw ! thinking about making a list just for it..

ONESHOT

My Everyday by @pellucid-constellations

Bucky Barnes was aggressive, annoying, and—worst of all—a hockey player. Not your type. At all. But, unfortunately, your roommate.

Touchdown by @buckyseternal

you decide to reward your boyfriend after he scores the winning touchdown.

A Little Superstitious by @jadedvibes

The school's football team needs a win and a certain blue-eyed player could use a kiss for good luck to help make that happen.

hail mary by @barnesafterglow

when you start sneaking around with your brother's best friend, it's only a matter of time until you get caught

Don’t End Today by @subwaysurf45

The day that you happily upgraded you from tutor to girlfriend all because of a few nice words.

Flirting and Football by @lovelybarnes

Bucky barnes and a college au where reader is the only one who isn’t interested in him basically

Anger Issues by @hailhydra920

You’re the only one who can calm Bucky down.

fair catch by @endless-summer-soldier

Y/N joins the football team to prove a point and the last thing Bucky expected out of the season was to fall for the new kicker

SERIES

For the Love of the Game by @pellucid-constellations

Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it.

No Such Thing by @sanguineterrain

You’ve been assigned to write a column for your school paper on the team’s spectacular running back. You don’t care very much for your university’s football team; you just can’t understand the hype, okay? Turns out your distaste for football bigheads was exactly on point: James Barnes is insufferable.

Out Of Bounds by @foreverindreamlandd

The chaos fic that was supposed to be a one shot inspired by me binge-watching Ted Lasso and now there’s a masterlist lmao. Enjoy the ride!

ice ice baby by @endless-summer-soldier

Bucky is a college hockey player, Y/N is a figure skater without a partner. What's happens when these two opposites start sharing the ice...

Quarterback!Bucky x Assistant!Reader by @angrythingstarlight

ice ice baby by @endless-summer-soldier

Bucky is a college hockey player, Y/N is a figure skater without a partner. What's happens when these two opposites start sharing the ice...

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jen-with-a-pen · 1 month

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❀ 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒆 – 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ❀

❀ SUMMARY ❀ Ooey-gooey, fluffy snapshots looking into the lives of one Bucky Barnes and Honeysuckle, who have more chemistry than the experiments in Bruce Banner'e lab. Everyone else knows it... except them. It's not without a little help– from Sam 'Certified Wingman' Wilson– do Bucky and Honey begin to realize and figure out their feelings for one another.

❀ PAIRINGS ❀ Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

❀ WARNINGS ❀ Tooth-rotting fluff, slowburn, friends to lovers, idiots in love, everyone knows they like each other except them, Avengers live in the Tower, Sam Wilson is a good wingman, touching, mutual pining, domestic avengers, maybe like a tad angst but not much, softness, mild to moderate language (includes cursing), lots of feel-good feelings, no use of y/n, no description of y/n besides maybe outfits but it's still vague

Read this fic on AO3!

header + warning banner by me ❤ dividers by @saradika-graphics

This series is nonlinear and each part can be read separately!

Spam liking will result in an automatic block!

❀ I – The "Not-Date" Date

❀ II – Another Time

❀ III – Sunset Spot

❀ IV – Think Pink

❀ V ❀ VI ❀ VII

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lunarbuck · 10 months

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In Our Element (College!Stucky x f!reader)

pairing: college!stucky x f!reader (any race)

wc: 3.4k

summary: A camping trip with your friends leads to more than you bargained for

warnings: friends to lovers, oral (f and m receiving), smut (p in v, p in a), threesome, polyamory, MMF relationship

a/n: thank you @flordeamatista for hyping this fic up and for daydreaming with me <3 i hope you guys enjoy!!

my masterlist

You practically moan as you toss your backpack to the ground at the top of the bluff. Bucky laughs, following your lead. The camping trip was Steve’s idea, so of course, he didn’t have any trouble with the hike up the bluff or with the heavy backpack. He practically skipped the whole way here.

He gives you a bright smile as he unclips the tent from the bottom of his pack. “You two gonna help me or am I on my own here?” He asks, spreading out the tarp. Bucky rolls his eyes but helps out his friend.

In an effort to be somewhat helpful, you decide to start gathering wood for the fire. Even though your legs feel noodly and it’s way hotter than you thought it would be, you’re still happy to be here. The three of you will start your 4th and final year of college in just a few weeks; it feels surreal.

You’ve known Steve and Bucky since freshman year and it’s crazy to think that at the end of this school year, the three of you won’t necessarily be in the same place anymore. Both the boys will probably get shipped out after graduation and you haven’t quite decided what’s next for you.

It’s not very easy to force yourself to stop thinking about it, but when you haul back your arm full of firewood and see Bucky and Steve bickering about the tent, it all seems to fade away. You dump the wood and dig out a fire pit, trying to remember your firemaking skills from girl scouts.

It takes you a few tries and way more matches than Troupe Leader Nicols would have approved of, but eventually, you have a fire. The boys manage to get the tent up without killing each other, and this place is starting to come together.

“Look at you go, angel.” Bucky starts pulling the food out of his pack, laying it out so he can start cooking. Even though you’ve known him for three years, you haven’t quite gotten used to how tall Bucky is. Steve too, honestly. They’re both built like goddamned brick walls and even when Bucky is sitting beside you, he isn’t even eye level.

Now you won’t beat around the bush. Bucky is incredibly easy on the eyes. Especially with the firelight flickering in his deep blue eyes. His brown hair is swept up off his forehead in a carelessly sexy way that makes you want to scream, but you keep it contained. It’s never been like that between the two of you. He’s always kept his conquests out of your friendship, opting to give you bare-bone details about his casual hookups.

It’s the same with Steve. You watch him as he walks toward the fire, a soft smile on his lips. He’s beautiful, you’ve thought so since the moment you laid eyes on him. He’s always watching out for you, making sure you’re doing okay, checking in. He makes butterflies burst in your heart every time he comes around.

“Thanks for doing this,” Steve says, sitting beside you. Bucky arranges the little tin foil packets on the hot stones, a pleasant smile on his face. “I’m happy the three of us could finally get out here. We’ve been wanting to show you this place for a while.”

Your heart warms at his words. Steve and Bucky are your best friends, they’ve been there for you through all the ups and down college has thrown at you. You’re not sure you would’ve survived without them. Part of you feels guilty for developing feelings for them, for the fact that you want more when they’ve already given you everything.

“I’m glad you invited me,” you reply, nudging Steve with your shoulder. “This is perfect.” The glow from the fire softens his usual sharp, classically charming features, and you feel yourself melt at the sight of them. Behind him, the sun is setting, painting the sky with bright oranges and pinks, and everything feels so… right.

Once the food is warmed up, Bucky passes everything out and you all dig in. Conversation flows easily between the three of you, reminiscing and laughing about the past, and before you know it, the stars are shining in the sky.

“It’s so clear up here,” Bucky mumbles, tilting his chin to stare at the constellations. “Can never see this many stars in the city.” You follow his line of sight and find his eyes tracing the outline of Hercules.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many,” you whisper. “It’s beautiful.” Bucky turns, grinning down at you. Suddenly, it feels like there’s no air. The way he’s looking at you sends shivers down your spine.

“You’re beautiful, angel.” Your lips part on a gasp, mind spinning.

“Bucky.” You can barely hear your voice when you speak. He just smirks and flicks his eyes behind you to where Steve is watching silently. You quickly turn to him, heat flooding your body.

“S’mores?” He asks, not appearing fazed by the moment between you and Bucky. You watch him arrange the s’mores materials and hand out sticks to roast marshmallows as if nothing happened.

“Steve, I–” He just smiles and shakes his head a little as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. You shake it off, taking the stick from Steve and roasting a marshmallow. You stare at the flames, feeling off-kilter from the heated moment with Bucky. You don’t want to hurt Steve, you care so much about him. You couldn’t ever pick between the two of them, your feelings equally strong for both men. You don’t want him to feel like you’ve chosen Bucky over him.

Before your marshmallow has a chance to light on fire, you pull it away from the flames and make your s’more. The chocolate melts in your mouth and you grin; s’mores could probably solve all your problems.

You feel fingers turning your chin and suddenly you’re back face-to-face with Bucky. “You’ve got a little somethin’ here, angel,” he whispers. His thumb gently rubs against the corner of your mouth as he slowly leans toward you. When he’s just inches away, his lips tip up into his signature smirk, before closing the distance and pressing a kiss to your lips. He’s kissing you softly, but there’s so much passion in it. Bucky’s hand cups your face while his metal fingers rest on your waist, holding you steady.

You lean into his kiss, head buzzing. You’ve wanted this for years, since the first time you met him, and now it’s happening. But you can’t forget that Steve is beside you, watching. Watching his best friend kiss you right in front of him. That’s what makes you pull away.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” Bucky says, thumb tracing over your lips.

“Language.” Steve’s scolding tone is also a teasing one, and you turn to find him watching you and Bucky with hooded eyes. He reaches out, placing a hand on your leg. His palm is warm against your skin but you still shiver at that contact.

“Stevie,” you whisper. He nods, shifting closer until he can lean his forehead against yours.

“You’re beautiful, angel.” When he kisses you, he tastes sweet like the s’more and smells smokey from the fire. His hand rests on your hip opposite from where Bucky’s is, and the feeling of both of them touching you at the same time sends you spinning. Never, in any of the scenarios you’d thought up did they both want you, let alone at the same time. Sure, you’ve fantasized about it, dreamed about it, but you didn’t think it’d ever happen.

Bucky’s hands find your shoulders, grazing your neck. You feel him lean down and press his lips to the sensitive spot beneath your jaw and you groan into Steve’s kiss. Heat builds between the three of you, a sense of urgency you’ve never felt before.

“You’re perfect,” Bucky says into your skin, sucking gentle marks in places that make you see stars. “Our perfect little angel.” Steve pulls away, placing a gentle kiss on your nose, and you look between the two men, stunned.

“I never thought…” your voice fades as you lose yourself in both of them.

“Never thought what?” Steve prompts, trailing across your face.

“Never thought that you two would feel this way for me.” Bucky chuckles, still pouring his attention into your neck.

“We’ve never met a girl like you, angel,” Bucky tells you, and you truly believe it. “You’ve been ours since you met us, we’ve just been waiting for you to realize it.” Your heart slams in your chest so hard you swear it’s going to burst right out.

“How do you feel?” Steve asks, holding your face in his big, warm hands. “Is this okay?” You nod quickly, earning you a laugh from both men.

“I feel like I’m floating,” you reply. Four hands move over your body, feeling every inch of you. Two sets of lips kiss you, taste you, and unravel you. Bucky adjusts you so you’re able to lean back against him and Steve moves with you, not letting you go for even a moment. Sandwiched between the two mountain-like men, you’ve never felt safer, never felt better.

When they pull away, both men help you stand. You have to crane your neck to keep eye contact, but it’s worth it to see them both smiling happily at you.

“Angel,” Bucky says, turning your head with two fingers. You love that nickname. You don’t remember where it came from, you used to roll your eyes at it, but you’ve always loved it. Especially when Bucky says it like that. “We can stop if you want to, we don’t want you to feel pressure to do anything you don’t want to. Okay?”

“What if I want it all?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Then we’ll give it to you,” Steve answers. He guides you toward him, hooking his fingers in the hem of your shirt before tugging it off you. You shiver in the night air, but Bucky is quick to warm you up, his lips finding your shoulder.

Steve works your shorts off next, helping you step out of them. In just your panties and bra, you should feel exposed, but you don’t. Steve and Bucky make you feel beautiful, they make you feel strong. Steve admires you for a moment, bright blue eyes trailing over your body appreciatively. Then, he turns you to face Bucky.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this, angel,” he whispers, leaning in and kissing you. His metal fingers are cold against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Behind you, Steve steps in close, tracing his fingers along your back. The shapes he draws are followed by his lips. It takes you a moment, but you realize he’s drawing the constellations on your back, kissing the stars into your skin.

Both of the men kneel and Steve unclasps your bra. Bucky instantly wraps his lips around one of your nipples, taking your other breast into his hand. Steve watches from over your shoulder, breathing heavily as he takes in the sight of Bucky worshiping you. His hands trace down your torso, finding the waistband of your panties and dragging them down your legs. You gasp, one hand burying itself in Bucky’s hair, the other reaching back to hold onto Steve.

Steve’s fingers slide up your legs before his right hand reaches the crux of your thighs. His other hand anchors in Bucky’s hair, tugging it lightly. You’re desperate for him; for them, and you know he can feel it. His fingers slide against you, knocking your clit with each pass. “You’re so wet,” he tells you, sliding a finger inside of you. “So wet for us, angel.”

Bucky groans against your nipple before pulling away to watch Steve finger you. “Fuck, Steve,” he grumbles, resing his forehead against your sternum. “I know, language.” Steve chuckles by your ear, adding a second finger. He picks up his pace, hitting a spot inside of you that makes your head go fuzzy. Your knees wobble, and Bucky holds them, not letting you fall.

“Why don’t we take this to the tent, Buck,” Steve suggests. The other man nods, and a second later, he scoops you into his arms. Steve helps the two of you settle the tent after putting out the fire, and once you’re laying down between the two of them, they’re back on you.

Bucky slides down between your legs, tongue running over your pussy like he’s starving, while Steve’s tongue laves your breasts. Bucky works you back to the point Steve had gotten you to, the band in your belly ready to snap. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him to where you want him, and as he works tight circles over your clit, you come apart, shaking in his and Steve’s arms.

“So perfect, angel, so perfect,” Bucky whispers against your clit. “Gimme another one, come on.” He slides two fingers inside of you, stretching you while he tastes you. You’re sensitive since you just came, but Bucky is quick to soothe any ache you feel. Steve sucks marks across your breasts and neck, ones that you’re so happy to wear, and you come again just thinking about it.

“Please, please,” you moan, gently guiding Bucky’s face away from your pussy.

“Tell us what you want,” Steve tells you, kissing your cheek. You glance between him and Bucky, who is still resting between your thighs, and feel a renewed heat in your belly.

“I want both of you.” Bucky raises an eyebrow, urging you to continue. “I want both of you at the same time.” Steve and Bucky exchange a glance, and for a moment, you worry you’ve suggested the wrong thing. “Or, or not, I’m sorry I didn’t mean–”

“Angel,” Bucky says, nipping at your inner thigh. “That was the perfect suggestion.”

“Really?” You look at Steve for confirmation, unable to wipe the grin from your face.

“Really,” he replies. “We’ve been wanting that since we both realized we had feelings for you. We talk about it all the time, what we’d do to you, what you’d sound like.” Your mind floods with downright pornographic images of those conversations until Steve and Bucky pull you back to the real world.

“If you’re gonna take us we’re gonna have to get you ready,” Bucky says, shifting onto his knees. He slides his hands over your legs, but his eyes are on Steve. “You just gonna stare, Stevie? Or are you gonna do something?” Steve does his best to maneuver over to Bucky, and when he’s between your legs too, he strips Bucky out of his shirt and works his pants down too. Bucky strips Steve next, and before you know it, they’re both naked. You can’t take your eyes off of them, off of their perfectly sculpted bodies.

Bucky tugs Steve into a bruising kiss, both men melting into each other. They fit perfectly together, feeding off one another in a way you’ve never seen before. It’s beautiful. When they pull apart, they’re both panting. They turn to you next, lust filling their eyes.

Steve sinks lower and Bucky slides two fingers inside of you. Bucky moans as Steve takes his dick into his mouth. You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can watch. You’ve never had voyeuristic tendencies before, but these men bring out a new side of you.

Bucky smirks, one hand working you, the other hand cupping Steve’s head. He looks completely in his element. Bucky’s fingers scissor inside of you, stretching you out, but seeing how big he and Steve are, you aren’t sure any amount of preparation will be enough.

When Bucky decides you’re ready, he moves, pulling Steve off of him. Steve’s face is flushed, but he grins as he positions himself between your legs. He lines himself up with your pussy and notches the head of his dick at your entrance. You press your lips to his, moaning into the kiss as he presses inside of you. He’s stretching you more than Bucky’s fingers, but it feels so incredible.

“Oh my god, angel,” he moans, wrapping his arms around you. ”You’re so tight, squeezing me so good.” Bucky lays down beside you, hand sliding down to where Steve is fucking you. He circles your clit slowly in contrast to the pace Steve is setting.

“Doesn’t he feel good?” Bucky whispers into your ear, sliding his fingers lower, slipping one inside of you with Steve’s dick. You jolt at the feeling, but Steve kisses you sweetly, nipping at your lower lip. “His cock is perfect, isn’t it, angel? Hitting all the right spots, huh?”

“Shit, yes,” you moan, your head lolling back as Steve fucks you. “It feels so good.” Steve and Bucky seem to be communicating telepathically, because they keep moving in sync. Steve will shift, Bucky will move with him. They play your body like a fiddle, like they know you better than you know yourself.

Eventually, they manage to get Steve below you with you on top, riding him. He’s even deeper this way, hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t know existed. Bucky sits behind you, sliding his hands all over you, kissing you everywhere.

“You ready for the next step?” Bucky asks, sinking his teeth into your shoulder.

“Yes, yes, please,” you whimper. You’ve been on edge for a while, everytime you get close to coming Steve slows down, not letting you finish. Bucky rustles through a bag and you hear a click before you feel one of his fingers, slick and warm, pass over your ass. You shiver at the feeling but keep grinding against Steve.

Bucky works his finger inside of you, and even just the feeling of his finger in your ass coupled with Steve’s dick makes the band in your belly snap. You come on a groan, leaning back against Bucky’s chest. Once you’re relaxed, he adds a second finger. You feel like you’re going to explode. Bucky keeps working you, keeps stretching you, all the while whispering in your ear.

“So perfect for us, angel, so good. You squeezin’ my fingers so tight, squeezing Stevie so good.” After he feels you’re ready, you feel him pull away. Next, his lubed cock presses against your ass and you stifle a groan. Bucky runs his hands over you soothingly before he presses inside of you.

Steve moans loudly from below you, gripping your hips tightly. “Oh my god, Bucky, she’s so much tighter now.” You whimper as they start to move in tandem, stretching you to your limit.

“Come on, Stevie, show her how much you want her,” Bucky goads as he tweaks your nipples. Steve bucks below you, fucking into you faster. Your eyes roll back, your head falls onto Bucky’s shoulder, and all you can do is take it. Bucky presses in deeper, fucking you at an agonizing pace.

“God, angel, you feel so good. You’re perfect, so beautiful.” He whimpers the words, and you can tell he’s getting close. You run your hands along his chest, scraping him lightly with your nails, and he comes on a loud moan. Bucky keeps thrusting into you, making a sensitive Steve whine, but he comes soon after, filling you.

The three of you lay in an exhausted, sexed-out heap, breathing heavily. You’re blissed out between the two of them, loving how even though they’re about to pass out, they’re still caressing you; still holding you.

“I should go get something to clean us up,” Steve says, moving to sit up, but you grab him and pull him back down, tugging him into your chest.

“Not yet,” you whisper. Bucky joins your cuddle heap despite the heat coming off everyone’s bodies. “Just stay here with me.”

When setting up the tent, Bucky and Steve had opted to keep the rain fly off since it’s not supposed to rain, so you can see the stars through the mesh top of the tent. After a few moments of sated silence, you speak again. “Is this real?”

“Of course it’s real, angel,” Bucky replies, squeezing one of your hands. “Our feelings for you are real. This is real.”

“Your feelings for us are real, right?” Steve asks, lacing his fingers with your other hand.

“Of course.”

“Then it’s real,” Steve says. “We care about you so much, angel, and we want this to work out. Real.”

Eventually, you let Steve get you cleaned up. The three of you fall asleep in a tangled mess, but you couldn’t be happier. Tonight was perfect, this trip, these men, everything. Absolutely perfect.

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delaber · 1 year

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To Let You Win (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: a sparring match between you and your best friend turns into something you’ve both been keeping under the surface when he refuses to let you lose the game

Words: 2K

Flufffffff 💖 (with a squint towards a smuttier theme hehe)

"Holy fuck it's hot in here," Bucky wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and resumes the fighting stance he'd been occupying before exclaiming that he was sweating balls.

"Alright," you laugh and flip the makeshift knife in your hand, "just tell me if you need a break to regain your strength, old man."

"Oh doll, I don't need a break," he grins and threateningly takes a step towards you without blinking, "I can take you with both arms tied behind my back."

There it is again...

One of those ill-timed comments that you try and laugh away in a poor attempt at hiding just exactly how bad they make your stomach churn and the back of your neck prickle.

Pretending that you do not have a major crush on the man standing in front of you has become full of feeble attempts, and to avoid embarrassing yourself, you settle on an equally threatening "I'd like to see you try," accompanied by a playful smile that you cannot hold back no matter how much you try to.

He winks at you before he, without warning, lurches forwards, swinging his fake dagger mere inches from your chest.

He's quick, but you're quicker, and while he's focusing on touching one of the spots you in unison decided would be considered a kill-zone, you jump as high as you can while wrapping your legs around his hips.

Immediately thrown off balance, he falls backwards and lands on the white felt floor with a dull thud followed by a grunt as your weight lands on top of him.

Before he can even move, you've pinned him to the floor with a knee placed on each side of his torso.

"Surrender?" you grin and lean forwards as you press your wooden weapon to his bopping Adam's apple.

"Okay, you got me," he laughs and raises his hands above his head to capitulate.

You know that he can easily flip the two of you around and turn his fake demise to his own advantage; place his entire weight between your legs as his thick thighs glue your hips to the spot, ready to devour you as he sinks his teeth into your neck, filling up the empty hole inside you that's constantly begging for his touch.

God, he smells amazing!

"Sweetheart," he chuckles from far away and you realise you've done it again; become lost as you daydream about your best friend fucking you into oblivion.

"Not that I'm not enjoying this," he places both hands on your hips and gently pushes you back with a stomach-flipping grunt, "- but my back is killing me, and I really need to change out of this shirt."

Your gaze falls to the hand you have carefully placed on top of his sternum, suddenly aware of the wet stains of his t-shirt and the heavy heartbeat drumming below your fingers.

"Of course," you immediately pocket your fake knife and release the grip you have on him as you stand up. "Sorry," you mumble, embarrassed by yourself and your inability to play it cool whenever you're around him.

"No worries," he winks at you from the side of the ring and reaches behind his head, grabbing the fabric of his t-shirt and pulling it off with one swift movement.

You've seen him shirtless countless of times before, but it never ceases to amaze you just how good he looks. He has angry scars extending from his waistline, zig-zagging and digging into the skin lining his entire stomach and chest, reaching all the way up to the torn flesh of his shoulder and it makes him look so fucking beautiful. You know he hates the bare-chested sight of himself in the mirror, but you doubt there could ever be a single facet of Bucky Barnes that you would not love.

"You've been working on your takedown," he eyes you impressively, either ignoring your obvious stare, or choosing not to believe that you actually like him shirtless. "I can't wait to see you break Sam's back with that move," he chuckles, "I love when he's having his ass handed to him."

"I highly doubt that'll happen seeing as Sam doesn't let me win," you mock Bucky while adjusting the strip of cloth that is wrapped tightly around your knuckles. "He actually fights back when he's down."

"Come on, you had a knife pressed to my throat!" Bucky chuckles but you merely raise your eyebrow at him, well-aware that he stopped fighting for the sake of your keeping your confidence intact and not because you'd beat him.

"Okay, okay," he laughs at your dead-pan expression, "maybe I let you win a little. I want it to be fun for you too - so sue me."

"Buck, we're supposed to be training," you sigh, holding your hands out to the side, "how am I ever gonna get better if you won't give me a fair fight?"

"Sweetheart," he licks his lips and squints as he considers how to put his next words in the most delicate way possible. "I bench press more than you weigh... It's never gonna be a fair fight."

"Well if I don't get to practise on you, how do you reckon it'll go when I'm up against a guy your size for real?"

"A guy my size with seventy years of combat training and serum running through his veins? Sure, that's likely to happen..."

You ignore him. "Get down on your back and continue fighting me like you normally would."

He crosses his bulky arms over his chest while arching his eyebrow.

"I'm serious!”

"I don’t care," he shakes his head, “I’m not doing it.”

"Well if you don't, you can consider this our last training session."

"Come on - this is ridiculous!"

"Lie down, same as before."

"You've got to be kidding me," he mumbles under his breath as he rolls his eyes but he still ends up doing as you say. "Happy?" He defiantly throws his arms out to the side when he's once again lying with his back against the white felt.

"Can't say that I'm not enjoying this more obedient side to you," you laugh and sink down on top of him, straddling his chest again, "didn’t think you had it in you - where do you normally keep it?"

"Shut up."

"Then fight me."

"I'm not gonna fight you," he shakes his head.

"Bucky, do me like you normally would!"

His grin broadens in a boyish smile as his hand twitches near your thigh. "Really?" he laughs while licking his lips, mockingly slipping his eyes down to your chest and back up again. "You want me to do you like I normally would?" He winks.

Another stomach flip… You have to suppress a gulp.

"Shut up," you chuckle and lightly smack his arm to get his mind out of the gutter. "You know what I mean."

"Sweetheart," he sighs with serious eyes, his smile still perfectly in place, "- are you sure you really wanna do this?"

Now it's your turn to roll your eyes. "Yes, Barnes..."

"Alright - just remember that you asked for it," he shrugs before he quickly grabs your hips and shifts the position around.

You don't even get to yelp - you barely have time to register what the hell just happened before you're lying on your back with Bucky's lower half pressed to yours, trapping you in place.

His dog tags are dangling in the air between you and you can feel the heat radiating from off his bare chest that is panting enticingly right before your eyes.

"Now, are you happy?" He asks and makes a point of his statement by pressing himself closer to your body, so you're completely sandwiched between him and the floor with no means of escaping.

"Goddammit!"

To further underline his superiority, he pins your wrists together and forces them above your head, holding you steady with one hand only.

"Surrender?" He asks in the same mocking tone of voice you used before, his plump and grinning lips suddenly mere inches from yours.

You can feel your entire body stretching below his, how he drives his hips into yours to keep you in place.

"Fuck," you mumble in frustration and start wriggling your hips to try and get free. "Bucky!" You groan to get him to release you, but even you can hear how your struggling sounds come out almost moan-like, and you see how the smile on his face is suddenly replaced with small, almost inaudible gasps.

Immediately, you stop moving, suddenly aware of the excitement growing tight in his pants while the rest of his body is completely frozen above you.

"Sorry..." you gulp as you slowly look up at him, finding the panicked blue that is half-hidden behind long chestnut strands falling sinfully over his eyes.

You've never been in this position before; on rare occasions you have cuddled long into the night, arms and legs entangled on his bedsheets to the tune of a long-forgotten movie playing in the background - but this? This is different. It's not cute and cuddly.

The look in Bucky's eyes has shifted in a heartbeat, and it's not teasing anymore. It's raw. It's passionate. And when he quickly shifts his gaze down to your mouth and up again, you give in to what you've been wanting to do for months now.

Without thinking, you strain your neck upwards touching the side of his nose with yours, placing a soft kiss on his lips for the first time ever.

He's perplexed - still completely frozen - but when you let go of his mouth shortly after, he wrinkles his brows in silent frustration.

He's panting hard, digging his lower half into you as he looks at you with a fire ignited in his eyes you've never seen before.

You put your hand on his neck, pulling him down towards you, throwing your pillow-soft kisses out the window by placing your thumb on his chin, slipping your tongue inside his open mouth while you move your pelvis rhythmically against his.

"Sweetheart," he whispers with swollen and wet lips as he slightly pulls away. He's breathing hard but his entire body is heavy and relaxed as he looks down at you with lust written all over his warm face - and you choose that exact moment to attack.

Quickly, you wrap your legs around his body as you flip the two of you around so you're finally sitting on top of him again.

"What are you doing?" he pants, confused about your sudden movements.

"Winning," you whisper back with a grin.

It takes him a minute to register your words and set them in connection with the conversation you'd had just before your friendship had passed the point of no return, but when he does, he throws his head back with a frustrating grunt at your dirty trick.

"Not cool," he shakes his head with a chuckle, half-amused, half-annoyed. "Not cool at all. You had me all excited," he groans and puts his hands on your hips, pressing you down on his hard erection.

"Tell me I'm winning," you chuckle as you run your fingers down his chest, suggestively arching your back while he's turning into a mess beneath you.

"Fuck," he groans and rubs circles over your thighs as his erection grows a little harder. "You better not be doing this to the guys you fight in the field."

You put your hand atop of his sternum and slowly start rocking your hips back and forth against him, arching your back while rubbing yourself along the tight bulge underneath you. "Tell me I'm winning."

"You win! You win!" he pants and traces his fingers down your throat and cleavage, laying his palms flat over your stomach as he angles his hips upwards. "Just... don't stop. Don't stop."

"Kiss me, Bucky," you whisper and pull on his dog tags so he can only inch closer to your craving lips.

"Oh doll, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do this!" he groans sensually with pink cheeks as he finally reclaims your mouth.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes friends to lovers

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imtryingbuck · 2 months

Text

Eighteen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 5,786

Warnings: fluff, angst, heavy use of pet names. eating humans (doesn’t happen obviously and it’s only said as a joke) mentions of cheating, mentions of past suicide attempt

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

It had been three years since she was last at home, three years at private school and it was amazing for her.

She made friends with two of the girls there Natasha and Wanda, they had introduced themselves to her first and Wanda shyly had asked if Y/n would like to be their friend, she hesitated at first but eventually said yes which brought a huge smile to Wanda’s face and a shy smile to Nat’s.

They accepted her with open arms and Nat even enjoyed playing in the mud and climbing trees with Y/n. When that fateful day came where they saw her scars she panicked and knew that they wouldn’t want to be her friends anymore but instead of judgemental or looks of horror Wanda burst out crying and pulled her in to a bone crushing hug whilst Nat stood there cursing in Russian. For the first time since James she opened up to what had happened to her.

Not even Steve knew the whole story, especially not Sam. Sam had heard things but chose not to listen; he chose to wait until she had said something herself.

Once she had finished telling them everything she was comforting the two red heads reminding them that she was okay now.

It had felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and for the first time she felt like she could breathe.

If you saw one of the girls the other two was close behind.

Throughout the three years that had passed she had heard about Bucky, Sam and Steve from her parents. The boys had showed up a few days after she had left so James could apologise and when they found out she had gone James started to cry, Steve and Sam too. When she heard about that she wanted to go back home to make up with her boys fighting with herself on whether or not she should but ultimately she decided that she wasn’t going anywhere. James had made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t her friend and that he never wanted to be in the first place.

It was a hard decision for her to make but luckily she had Nat and Wanda by her side supporting her.

Now that school was over she was heading back home, she had decided she didn’t want to go to college and after a bit of back and forth with her parents - especially her mom - they agreed to let her do what she wanted to do.

“We’ll see each other in a month Wands don’t cry” she says hugging Wanda who was in fact balling her eyes out.

“A month is so long away an-and what will I do if I’ve forgotten your face or-or your voice?” Ever so dramatically Wanda cried.

“Really? Really Wands it’s four weeks you’re not going to forget anything about me and if you do I’ll have to punch you in the arm”

“Please don’t, but you’re right. I’ll just have to go on living without you my friend, go go leave and don’t look back, I don’t think my heart could take it” Wanda says bringing one hand across her face and the other clutching her chest.

Y/n looks at Nat who stands there with one eyebrow raised “this…this is our best friend”

“I know. Wand why do you have to be so dramatic all the time?”

“Hey I’m not dramatic I’m traumatised!”

Nat and Y/n burst out laughing, shaking their heads at the red head. “Traumatised? Wanda I love you but you my friend are so dramatic”

“I’m trying to be…emotional and romantic well not romantic because even though I love you Y/n I have to admit baby girl you’re not my type”

“Don’t say that-“ Nat says quickly but gets cut off.

“I-I’m not y-your type? H-how dare you!”

“Great just great, look everyone these two weirdo’s are my best friends!” Nat shouts pointing at her friends.

“I have to be honest with myself Y/n/n okay, I can’t keep lying to you it-it’s not fair, I’m sorry” Wanda says in a wobbly voice.

“No, no I understand. I’m just not good enough for you and that’s the truth! Don’t keep lying to yourself Wanda!”

“Guys please stop…” Nat butts in.

“Great you’ve upset our daughter!” Wanda shouts throwing her hands in the air.

“Me? Me? Well guess Wanda she might not even be yours! That’s right I cheated on you with your father!”

“W-what? H-how could you? I loved you”

“But you don’t love me anymore now the truth can be out there!”

“To be fair Wanda could possibly be my dad because we both have red hair…”

“She gets her attitude from you Y/n, how could you do this to us?”

“Us? You’re the one that literally just said I wasn’t your type!”

“Guys please, I don’t want to come from a broken home”

“Oh Natty come here sweetie me and your maybe father was just playing” Y/n says opening her arms for Nat to shuffle into. Wanda then wraps her arms around the pair.

“Well ladies that was a very moving performance if I do say so myself but it’s time for you to break it up and leave” Mr Walters says from the steps leading up to the school.

“Right, sorry sir. Emotional day” Y/n speaks first.

“A lot of truth came out sir, we needed it” Wanda then says.

“Wanda might not be my father sir, I’m so depressed” Nat shrugs.

“I’m…I’m actually traumatised because of you three. Thanks for that.”

“Rude. Well goodbye sir, thanks for being the best teacher ever!” Y/n waves.

“Bye ladies, good luck with everything” he says walking back in to the school, he had to admit that he was going to miss seeing the trio and miss their antics.

“You’re such a teacher’s pet” Nat laughed.

“It’s called respect madam, something you clearly don’t have for your mother!”

“Y/n, baby it’s time to go” Maria interrupts whatever Nat was going to say.

“Coming. Well ladies I guess this is it, it’s been a pleasure knowing you but this is where the curtains close, I bid you adieu.” Y/n bows.

“And I’m called dramatic” rolling her eyes Wanda bows too.

“Alright guess I’ve got to do the same” Nat follows along.

“But no in all seriousness I’m so glad I met you and I’m forever grateful to the pair of you”

“Always Y/n you know this, we’ll always be friends no matter what and we’ll see each other next month” Nat said as she pulls Y/n into a hug.

“I love you both” Wanda says wrapping her arms around her friends.

Pulling away they all smile at each other.

“Last one to their parents cars are a rotten egg in 3…2…1”

They take off running to their parents; Y/n first, Nat second and Wanda third.

“No fair! You guys know I’m terrible at running!” Wanda shouts from her parents’ car.

The drive home was filled with conversations, laughter and catching up. It had been six months since they had seen her in that six months she looked more grown up, more sure of herself, happier.

Maria couldn’t help but smile as her daughter rambled on about what her and her friends had been getting up to. Amazed by how she looked so much like her mama, Maria made it her sole mission to make sure Y/n got a few photographs of her and her mama from the hell hole of a house she grew up in. Maria had kept one for herself it was a photo of Y/n who was roughly three or four years old with her arms wrapped around her mamas neck who had a baby Y/n in her arms as they stood outside a cabin, both smiling widely as the camera captured a beautiful moment between mother and daughter.

It was only after seeing that photograph that Maria understood where Y/n had gotten her crazy unruly hair from, Maria knew that Y/n was blessed to have taken her looks and traits from such a beautiful woman.

Y/n didn’t know that her momma would go to her mamas grave and put fresh flowers down every weekend or how she would sit on the hard ground and speak to the woman she never met before and talk for hours telling her how their daughter was growing, how she was cheeky and caring, how smart she was. Or how just before she would leave the grave where her birth mom laid Maria would place a kiss to her fingers and place them on the headstone and say “thank you my friend” because yes even though she had never met the woman and that she was no longer alive she had become Maria’s friend, and every time she thanked the woman it was for giving her a wonderful gift, Y/n.

“-mom? Momma are you even listening?” Y/n says.

“Oh, sorry darling yes I’m listening”

“No you weren’t but it’s okay I was just saying that Nat had found a rat in her bag and she screamed so loudly it nearly burst my eardrums”

“To be truthful I would have done the same thing” Maria chuckles.

“I know! I had to calm it down because it had gotten scared, I mean well so would I if I had Nat screaming and trying to hit me with a bag” Y/n giggles.

Shaking her head she was so happy that Y/n had Nat and Wanda as friends, they treat her good and were really amazing friends to her daughter. When she met the two red heads she was taken back by watching their dynamic and how well Y/n fit in so perfectly.

“Natasha’s reaction was perfectly justifiable” she points out.

“That’s true but she could have calmed down, I was there and we all know I’m great at talking to animals and calming them down” she smirks.

“Very true angel, listen…please don’t be mad-“

“No…dad you both promised!”

“It wasn’t our idea angel but George’s and Winnie’s, darling they’ve missed you-“

“A party dad? I suck at those things”

“It’s not a party but more like a get together-“

“So a party. Uncle George and Aunt Winnie don’t do “get togethers” dad and you know that”

“Well it’s happening and you’re going to enjoy it, you’re going to smile and have a good time and you’ll thank George and Winnie afterwards” Howard speaks.

“Yes Master”

“Good boy”

“Treat?”

“Not yet”

“Do you want me to give you my paw?”

“Mar our dog talks way too much, I told you we should have gone with a German shepherd and not a Chihuahua”

“Oi I’m not a Chihuahua! If I had to be a dog I probably would be basset hound…”

“Why?”

“They’re so cute and lazy and small”

Howard lets out a booming laugh as he nods, Y/n joins in whilst Maria looks at the driver who’s trying not to laugh “would you be a dear and crash the car for me please?”

“No don’t, I can’t get a treat if I’m dead” Y/n laughs out causing Howard to laugh even louder.

“‘A get together’ yeah alright dad! It’s like the whole world is here” she scoffs.

“Don’t be so dramatic, come on and don’t forget to smile”

Half of the people who had showed up she didn’t even know and the ones she did were either nice to her or people who helped to torment her but doing as her father said she smiled at everyone, saying her thanks when people congratulated her for graduating school.

“My sweetie!” Winnie’s loud voice came from across the garden, Y/n watched at the woman who she’s missed dearly nearly runs over to her.

“Miss Winnie, I’ve missed you!” She wraps her arms around her third mother figure.

“I’ve missed you too my sweet baby, oh look at you! All so grown up and so bloody beautiful, where’s that’s little girl who broke my heart all them years ago gone?”

“I killed her and buried her in the backyard but don’t tell my momma or dada that” she giggled.

“I won’t don’t worry your secrets safe with me” Winnie winked.

“Is-is that…no I don’t believe my eyes. It’s my darling girl!” George shouts ignoring all the looks that get thrown his way as he makes his way over to Y/n and Winnie.

“Hi Mr George”

“Oh my, you’re as beautiful as ever!” He picks her up and spins her around just as he did when she was little “oof and your heavier”

“George!” Winnie scolds.

“What have they been feeding you at that school hey missy?” He asks completely ignoring his wife.

“Humans from all over the world” she winks with a shoulder shrug.

“Are they nice? I’ve been thinking of getting into eating humans”

“Honestly? I recommend that you should, tasty” she laughs, George and Winnie joining in.

“On a serious note though, I’ve missed you darling and I’m so proud of you. And please remember I love you, you’ve always been our daughter too. Oh God I’m so fucking proud of you” George says with tears in his eyes as he remembers the first day he met her, how small and scruffy she was, how scared she look. After what that monster did to her he was scared that she wasn’t going to survive. It’s true though, he and Winnie saw her as their daughter before Howard and Maria adopted her.

“I love you both too and I will forever be indebted to you both”

“Nonsense silly girl” Winnie says.

“Are you trying to steal my daughter away?” Howard laughs as he walks over.

“Obviously, the plan is to knock you and Maria out and I’m going to kidnap this one” George says.

Howard laughs which has George turning to Y/n “he thinks I’m joking, but I’m not”

“Don’t wind him up” she laughs.

She’s oblivious to the conversation that’s happening on the other side of the garden as she laughs with her parents and surrogate parents.

“My sweetie!” He hears his mother call out and he knows instantly that Y/n has arrived as he looks in the direction his mother is making her way over to his breath gets caught in his throat.

His Bunny.

His Bunny all grown up.

His Bunny all grown up and looking just as beautiful as she looked the last time he saw her.

There hasn’t been a single day that’s gone by where he hadn’t regretted this shit that spewed out of his mouth that day. When he found out that she had left it felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest and stomped on a million times.

Of course he was never friends with her out of pity, she was easy to talk to, she made him laugh, she was his best friend, his person.

His soulmate as Winnie would say.

But every day he reminded himself that he only had himself to blame.

“I-is that…” Steve questioned with his eyes trained on his best friend who he hasn’t seen in three years.

“Bunny” Bucky nods.

“Holy shit she’s gorgeous” Sam says.

“Yeah she is” Bucky agrees.

“When are you going to talk to her?” Steve asks.

“I’m not. She’s not going to want to talk to me, not after what I said the last time we saw each other”

“That was three years ago Buck, it’s Y/n she’s no doubt forgiven you”

“I doubt it. Steve you have no idea how sad she looked man”

“Bro just go and talk to her” Sam says taking a sip of his beer.

“I-I can’t, are you two going to talk to her?”

“Yeah…well I was going to wait for her reaction with you first before making my way over to her” Steve admits.

“Same if she hits you then I’m staying away but if she doesn’t then yeah of course I’ll talk to her”

“Cheers” Bucky grumbles his eyes refusing to move away from her.

They all watch as she laughs with her parents and Bucky’s, they don’t stop the smile from forming onto their lips as they watch their best friend.

They all carried their own guilt from three years ago and all silently hope that she forgives them for what happened.

“Buck go and talk to her” Steve tries to encourage his friend mainly so he could then talk to her.

“Yeah…yeah I’m going to do it” he puts his drink down on the table before straightening his shirt out.

Just as he was about to take that first step closer to his Bunny he stutters when he sees a tall bulky guy with blonde hair walk up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, watching as she squeals turning around in the guys hold.

He watches as she places her hands on either side of his face and places her lips to his.

He’s pretty certain that he hears his heart breaking.

“Buck…”

“Huh? Yeah?”

“A-are you alright?”

“I’m fine, so she’s got a boyfriend that’s cool” he turns to pick his drink back up and downs it in one gulp. “Do-do you think she’s happy?”

Steve and Sam share a look before answering. “We’re not sure pal”

“I hope she is, t-that’s all I’ve ever wanted for her.”

They continue to watch as Y/n introduces the guy to Bucky’s parents and they can tell instantly that Winnie’s smile is fake, she’s always been the one rooting for Y/n and James to get together. The smile on Y/n’s face is as big as it ever was as she stares up at the guy.

“How do you think they met?” Bucky asks.

“God knows, but as long as he treats her right that’s all that matters really.” Sam says eyeing Bucky cautiously.

“I hope so”

As the party winds down the boys not barely moving apart from Sam as he raids the table with all the food on it. They watch as the blonde guy leaves, not without having a make out session with Y/n.

As the guests start leaving Bucky’s quick to notice that Y/n is no longer around and when George stumbles over to the boys he finds out that Y/n’s disappeared and wonders if they had seen her, they all shake their heads.

“I think I might know where she is, hold on”

He makes his way down to the bottom of the garden and climbs over the fence, really hoping he was right.

“Bunny” he whispers when he sees her sitting on the ground in the spot they claimed as theirs, the same spot he first laid eyes on her when he was just seven years old.

“Hi James” she whispers back keeping her back to him.

“C-can I sit next to you?”

“Sure”

For the first time since the two have known each other they sit side by side in uncomfortable silence. It pains the both of them that this is how it’s come down to this.

But unfortunately it had.

“So-um-how are you?” Bucky asked as he stumbled over his words.

“I’m good, what about you?”

“Good, that’s good. I-I’ve missed you Bunny” he admits, his heart squeezing when he sees her flinching.

“Oh”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I just don’t know why you would have missed me when you didn’t want me to be your friend anymore or ever”

“I didn’t mean it Bun I swear. I was angry an-and I took it out on you, I’ve regretted it ever since”

“Why was you angry? I’m the one that had my back exposed to the whole school and the three people who were my only friends, the only people I trusted more than anything didn’t try and stop it or-or even try and help me. You had no right in being angry James” he hates how she doesn’t raise her voice and hates that she calls him James.

“I know and I’m sorry Y/n I really am”

“It’s okay I guess.”

“No it’s not! None of the shit I said or didn’t do was okay, you’re my best friend Bun and I should have stuck up for you. I shouldn’t have said I chose Dot over you because you always came first no matter what”

“It’s okay because it doesn’t matter anymore, I got over it”

“Over it or over me?”

“Honestly? Both”

Bucky released a choking sob at her admission, she had gotten over him and he didn’t know what to do. “Bun-“

“You shouldn’t call me that James, don’t want to upset your girlfriend”

“I-I don’t have a girlfriend”

“What happened with Dot?”

“She-I walked in on her having sex with Brock”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she said it was a one time thing but he said they’d been at it for months so…”

“I’m sorry, I never liked her”

“Did you even know her?”

“No…what kind of name is Dot anyway?”

“It’s short for Dolores” he laughed.

“Stupid name for a stupid girl. How long were you two dating for?”

“A year, actually walked in on them the day after our one year anniversary”

“That’s cold”

“Yeah. What about you? Lover boy back there” he watches as her cheeks start to turn red and a shy smile on her lips, his heart pounds loudly in his chest at the sight.

“His names Pietro, w-we’ve been dating for five months now”

“How did you two meet?”

“He’s actually my best friends twin brother, we met when her family came up to see Wanda and she introduced us and yeah, he asked me out on a date and then another and another then he asked me out”

“Does he make you happy?”

“He does, well when he’s not talking with his mouth full” she giggled, and for the first time in over three years she looks up at him. Breath gets caught in her throat as he’s looking just as beautiful as he looked the last time she saw him.

“I’m glad, not about the food in mouth when he talks thing but I’m glad he makes you happy”

Not knowing how to reply they fell back into silence but this time it was comfortable.

Y/n was the first one to break the silence “do you know if anyone lives in my old house?”

“No one wanted to move in after…you know”

“Oh. Have you ever been there?”

“Once, I didn’t go in or anything I just stood outside”

“When?”

“A few months after you left. I’m not sure why I did it but” Y/n stood up and held her hand out for James to take and helped him stand, pulling her hand away from his once he was stood up she started to walk in the direction of her old home.

“Come on slow pokes” she called over her shoulder.

“Y/n are you sure about this?”

“My therapist said that it might help me to be able to finally move on”

“You’re in therapy?”

“Yeah, mom said it might help after what I did”

“W-what do you mean?”

“I tried to kill myself” she shrugged.

As she carried on walking she hadn’t realised that Bucky had stopped. She had tried to end her life and no one told him. Bucky had lost her as his friend and nearly lost her in this world completely and no one told him.

“Ducky?”

His heart stopped at that name.

“Duck? Come on we’re not that far now”

“Y-you called me Ducky”

“Well yeah that’s your name isn’t it?” She smirked.

“Bunny please don’t joke about this. You called me Ducky even though we’re not friends anymore”

“You’ll always be Ducky to me James. And who said we’re not friends anymore?”

“We-we aren’t?”

“Nope, we said we’d be friends forever and forever hasn’t ended yet so therefore our friendship is still intact, come”

“B-but what I said”

“It’s in the past”

“Can we go back to being Bunny and Ducky again?”

“Well of course, that’s if you actually did want to be my friend and not just doing it out of pit-“

A loud squeal echoed through the woods as Bucky charged at her picking her up as if she weighed nothing and spun her around. “I never meant what I said Bun never not for one second, please forgive me and I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you”

“Buy me an ice cream and all is forgiven”

Laughing he puts her down slowly and nods “I can do that. Bun”

“Yeah”

“Yo-you tried to kill yourself?”

“Yeah, it was about a year ago”

“Why did you try and do it? Why wasn’t I told?”

“I was in a dark place Duck, remember my special place?-“ she taps the side of her head and watches as he nods “-well it wasn’t special anymore and-well I don’t want to get in to it but it got bad so I wanted to end it”

Rolling her sleeves up she showed Bucky the two angry long scars on her arms, he slowly reached out and gently glided a finger down the scars. “Nat found me in the bathroom and screamed out for Wanda who went and got a teacher, Mr Walters came running and picked me up rushed me to the schools nurse and I was taken to the hospital when an ambulance arrived. My parents were called and I begged them not to tell anyone that included your parents Ducky, they don’t know.”

“Bunny…”

“I’m okay now though, yeah I have bad days still but it’s not as bad as it had been and Dr Cho is incredible, she’s so sweet and she’s never once judged me about anything and she makes me laugh, oh and she always has sweets!”

“I should have been with you Bun, I’m so sorry I let you down”

“Hey none of that! It’s not your fault at all, mental health is a bitch-shit-fuck-please don’t tell momma I swore!”

“You still don’t swear?” Bucky laughs.

“No momma says it’s unladylike”

“You? A lady?” He has to stop walking and bends over with laughter.

“Oh shut up! I could be a lady”

“Never!”

Y/n knows it’s true herself but that was beside the point.

“Shut up. Come on I need your support to get this over and done with”

“I’m coming Bun, are you sure you want me here with you?”

“Always”

The rest of the walk was done in silence and before she realises she’s standing in front on the wired fence surrounding her old home. Looking at Bucky she musters a smile that he knows is fake and presses down on the fence and climbs over.

Waiting for Bucky to do the same she stares at the slowly decaying building that’s haunted her nightmares since she was seven years old. The ivy wraps itself around the house, windows are smashed from either Mother Nature, kids playing in the woods or animals. For some reason the building looks just like it’s supposed to - a building. She feels quite silly for letting it terrorise her dreams now that she’s standing in front of it, it doesn’t seem so scary now.

“Bun, we don’t have to go in if you don’t want to” Bucky’s gentle voice came from next to her.

“No I’ve got to, I’ve got to put the monster to bed once and for all. It’s-it-can we just wait out here for a few minutes, please?”

“Of course Bun. I’m right here”

A few minutes go by and she finally puts one foot out in front of the other, taking slow steps towards the place she once called home a very long time ago now. Her chest starts to feel tighter as she got closer to her nightmare.

Pushing the door open Bucky stepped up first knocking the cobwebs out of the way before moving back to where he was before.

“Thanks” she whispered.

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. She chanted softly to herself as she forced her feet to move forward.

It was weird. As she walked further into the cabin she saw the small dinning table laying on its side, the two chairs broken and the small dingy couch still in the same spot as they were that night her father nearly killed her.

The floorboards creaked under their feet as they moved around the place.

“Th-this is where it happened” she whispers to Bucky as they stand in the middle of the room.

“Bun-“

“That’s my blood Duck” she points to the faded blood stains on the floor.

“Bun-“

“It’s creepy isn’t it? I laid right there and was on my way to play with angels before the cops showed up and now my blood is stained into the wood”

“Bun look at me, come on Bun look at me. Good, it’s okay. It’s all okay”

“I-I know it’s just creepy isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah it is”

“Can I show you my room?”

“Okay”

Walking down the hallway she comes to a stop in front of the first door on the right and she starts to push the wooden door open, both wincing as the hinges squeak.

“Nothings changed in here ah” Y/n moves over to the tiny desk her mama had gotten her she smiles “look…”

“It’s a stick Bun”

“Ah nope it’s not any old stick Ducky, it’s the stick you picked up the second time we met”

“What? Really, you kept it?”

“Of course aha. Hey can you help me move this?”

“Sure”

They move the desk - well Bucky did whilst Y/n stands there and watches - Y/n thanks him before kneeling down on the floor and started to lift up the floorboard smiling in victory when she sees the metal tin her mama had put there when she was five.

“What is it?”

“This, this has my toys that my mama hid so that he wouldn’t break them” she sits with her legs crossed and smiles up at Bucky as he sits across from her.

“Toys?”

“Yeah, but not any old toys Duck, no these are animal toys-look” she groans as she pulls the lid open “this is a giraffe, this is a sheep? no a goat, and an elephant-“ she lists off all the animals in the box as she blindly hands them over to Bucky who’s sitting there with his eyes fixed on her, the way her smile lights up makes his heart tingle, the way she sounds so happy brings a smile to his face. It had been so long since her saw her shine so brightly.

“And here’s a photo of me and mama”

Taking the photo his eyes bounce from the photo to her, it was the first time since he was either eight or nine that he’d seen a photo of his Bunnies mom “you look just like her”

“No, she’s beautiful”

“Exactly.” He smiles when her cheeks start to go red. “Hey do you have anything of your mamas?”

“Just photos” she shrugs.

“Come” he helps her put all the toy animals back in the tin and stands, helping her raise too he takes her hand and asks “is this her room?”

“Yeah why?”

“Let’s see if there’s anything of hers still here so you can have them”

“Duck…”

“It’s okay Bunny” he opens the door instantly shutting it before placing his body in front of the door.

“James?”

“I-I-we can’t go in there Bun”

“I know. Is there still blood?”

“You know?”

“Yeah, that’s the reason why he nearly killed me that night. I tried to find my mama and went into her room and well, yeah”

“Oh Bun”

“It’s okay, I want to go in it might help me feel closer to my mama if I have something of hers”

“Just don’t look at the bed okay baby”

Baby. Her heart shouldn’t stutter the way it did.

“Okay”

Bucky opens the door making his way over to the bed to flip the quilt over so she doesn’t have to see the stains, again.

“She always wore this jumper, I put it on once and tripped over when I tried to walk” she giggles.

“Take it, what about this?” Bucky hold up a long skirt that had patterns on it.

“In the summer she would pull up over her chest so it was like a dress and look it has pockets!”

“Take?”

“Absolutely”

Over the course of twenty minutes Bucky had found a small suitcase and they filled it with all the clothes she wanted to take.

“Bun is this box your mamas?”

“Yeah it’s where her jewels lived.” Laughing when Bucky cocks his eyebrow up “I couldn’t say jewellery so mama said jewels and told me that the box was their home”

“Fair enough, would you like to take it?”

“Okay”

By the time they had finished it was close to being pitch black in the cabin. “Come on Duck its getting too dark to see anything now”

“Okay” as they moved their way through the cabin laughing at each other when the other had bumped into something, getting to the door Bucky stopped “wait a second Bun”

“Duck-“

“Gimme a second Bun”

He goes back inside and she giggles when she hears him say “ow” a few minutes he comes back out smiling whilst holding up the metal tin that housed her toy animals.

“Couldn’t forget this now could we?”

“Y/n? Where the hell have you been?”

“My old house…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah Ducky helped me get things that was my mamas”

“Ducky?” Both sets of parents say in unison.

“Yeah, we’re friends again”

Their dads, Bucky and Y/n all flinch when Maria and Winnie start screaming in joy, hugging each other whilst they jump around in a circle.

“Don’t even think about it George” Howard warns his longest friend as George slinks over to him.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about Howie”

“Don’t call me that!”

Bucky takes Y/n’s hand in his and slowly backs up whilst their dads argue.

“That was embarrassing” he laughs.

“It’s cute. Maybe we’ll be like that with our kids one day”

“W-what?” Bucky splutters, cheeks going bright red.

“N-no I mean me and my husband and you with your wife…you know?”

Before Bucky could reply they heard Sam’s voice from the doorway.

“Y/n…”

“Hi Sammy, hi Stevie”

Bucky watches as his three best friends reunite with each other, he has to admit that her comment about kids made his stomach flutter then drop when she mentions about her imaginary husband and his imaginary wife.

For the first time in three years Bucky felt whole once again.

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