#quarterback bucky

[buckyalpine]

Alpha quarterback Bucky x Omega cheerleader reader

I need alpha Quarterback Bucky with a cute little cheer leader omega. I'm so feral today, sorry but also send help. Because he is an absolute fuck boy but your his favorite little rut toy.

“Alpha” you squeak as he takes your hand and presses it against his thick bulge, finding you in the locker rooms after a game.

“C’mere pretty mega” he practically purrs against your neck, catching you by surprise. He picks you up with ease, setting you onto the counter while his sinful hands start to kneed at your hips, pulling your tiny skirt up, tearing off your cotton panties. You whimper with need, the scent of your arousal nearly making him drool. He shamelessly pulls his cock out, pumping it, flicking his cock head against your swollen clit making you whine, smearing his arousal over your sensitive nub. “Gonna help your alpha, baby?”

It's a game you both play. After all, he wasn't really your alpha. He hadn't marked you. You weren't his. But that doesn't matter right now. Not when his leaky cock is begging for relief.

You nod, gasping when he pulls you off the counter, bending you over, his tip rubbing up and down before sliding in with one thrust, his head thrown back when he start to build up a steady pace, slamming your hips to meet his.

"A-Alpha!" You cry out, grasping the edge of the counter, his cock deep in your pussy, his unforgiving thrusts speeding up. "Oh god, please!"

He watches your face twists in the mirror reflection, his cute little cheer leader who screams his name both on the field and with his cock deep in her, no one suspecting the innocent omega to be so cockdrunk over the college football player.

“That’s it, good little mega, so fuckin good” He groans, his thighs tensing as his knott begins to swell, panting and grunting, his dick almost hurting with how hard he was for you. No one made him more animalistic than you, your sweet scent making him leak into your pyssy. "Gonna give you my knot, you want that 'mega?"

Your sweet neck is so tempting to him and he wants to sink his teeth in, marking and claiming you. He nudges his nose against your juncture, nipping softly making you whine, craning your neck to give him more access, your desperation making it harder for him to resist.

"Don't tempt me 'mega" He warns, biting softly, his hand coming to wrap around your throat.

"P-Please! Fuck, yes, please, gimmie your knot alpha-want-want it!" You stutter out, eyes rolling back as he growls, fucking you harder, his hand coming around to toy with your clit, rubbing it with his calloused fingers.

"Greedy little 'mega" He moans, struggling to hold back any longer, his cock bursting with cum when he feels you clench around him, "Oh fuck m'cumming, take it babydoll, take my cum"

He pants against your neck, staying buried deep in your pussy while his cock softens, the mess he made inside you slowly seeping out.

“Hmm” a low growl emits from his chest, watching his seed drip between your soft thighs, milky cream sticky and thick. “Can’t wait till the day get to fill you up with pups, mama”

He shoves two thick fingers back into your sensitive pussy making you cry out, his pink lips hushing you with a deep kiss before pulling away and giving your ass a spank. He leaves you panting and messy, fucking your brains out like he owns you, leaving for practice seconds later.

Of course, he thinks he’s just using you. He thinks this is just a game to play. He smirks when he sees you in your uniform again, giving him a shy smile as you approach him after a game. He loves that he has you at his beck and call whenever he wants, your little omega pussy all jus for him.

That is until he smells the scent of another alpha near by and he nearly bares all his teeth, shoving you behind him so your out of sight, protected behind his large form. He knows Walker has had his eye on you every time they visit the campus, the blonde rival happy to try and make a move on the sweet cheer leader with no alpha.

"What's wrong Barnes, scared of a little competition" Walker taunts and Bucky nearly pounces on him, his hands still balled into fists, holding back when he feels your hand grab his wrist.

"Alpha lets go" you whisper and his protective side immediately comes out, seeing you distressed worried face.

"Since when was he your alpha, hmm, 'mega?" Walker smirked making you whimper from embarrassment, immediately letting go of Bucky's wrist.

He wasn't wrong.

Bucky felt a different surge of anger flow through his veins while Steve stepped in between the two men before things got ugly. Bucky shoved Walker out of the way, scooping you into his arms and straight to his place, unable to bear the thought of another man trying to touch what's his, hating the way your face had fallen after what he'd said to you.

You were his Omega.

He was your alpha.

As soon as he gets you in his room, he throws you on his bed, tearing your clothes off without a care in the world. His natural woodsy scent of pine and leather make you wet, your pussy aching, feeling so empty while he tosses his own clothes aside. There's no time to prep when he man handles you onto all fours, spanking your ass when you arch your back, presenting for him, his thick cock humping your folds.

"Whose your Alpha" He demands, dragging his tip up and down at a torturous pace, spanking you again when you wiggle your hips. "Say it!"

"You James, Alpha please, need-need yo-OH GOD YESS" Your words slut into screams of pleasure as he slams into you and fucks you hard and fast, his swollen balls hitting your clit with each stroke.

"That's right. You're mine. My fuckin' omega, m'you're alpha, you hear me?" He forces his cock as deep as it would go, as if trying to claim every bit of your body from the inside and out.

"Mine. Mine. Mine" Bucky growls, slamming into you with unrelenting thrusts, shaking away the disgusting thought of another man trying to have you, his girl, how dare anyone else trying to lay their hands on you. He stars at your sweet unmarked neck, drooling at the touched skin. He wanted nothing more than to show everyone exactly who you belonged to.

"Wanna make you mine forever 'mega" he warns, holding back from sinking his teeth in, nearly whining with his eyes shut. "Wanna mark you, let me mark you up sweet girl, show everyone who you belong to"

"Mark me Bucky" You cry out, his hands coming on top of yours, fingers lacing together as he continues to rut into you.

"Gonna mark you up and fill you till your swollen n'round. Wanna get you nice n'heavy till those little uniforms don't fit n'all you can wear are my clothes, let everyone know who you belong to" He growls, his cock starting to swell like never before, the feeling almost painful.

"Please alpha, please-wan' it-need it!" You beg, gasping at the feeling of his base growing, his moas filling the room. He licks and nips at your neck, whining when you clench around his cock, moving and giving him more access to your skin.

"Mine" He grits before sinking his teeth in, pleasure and pain filling you, a different kind of relief flooding your senses as his knot pops, the both of you collapsing in his bed, his cock still deep inside you. He holds you tightly in his thick arms, soothing you with soft caresses along your sensitive skin.

"You're mine omega" He pants, kissing your mark, cradling your fucked out form to his chest, "All mine"

My bad.

#alpha bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #alpha bucky x omega reader #quarterback bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel smut #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fanmix #bucky fan fics #bucky fan fic #bucky fan fiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x omega reader #bucky barnes x omega reader

[mrsbarnesblog]

Jersey

masterlist ko-fi ao3

College! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Natasha’s idea of getting a jersey with Bucky’s name turned out to be much better than you expected.

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: smut, established relationship, college, football player bucky is a biggest warning tbh, he's so in love, locker room sex, nat is good friend, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare.

Author's note: honestly one of my favorite fics because college athlete bucky is my biggest weakness (I should probably write about him more often)💘

It’s been another game for the "Avengers", where your boyfriend Bucky Barnes was a quarterback. Today was one of the most important games against "Hydra" – their biggest enemy. Obviously, you couldn't miss the game, and Natasha, your best friend and roommate, will be with you as always. And right now, she has convinced you to do something that has been on your mind for a long time.

"C’mon, It’ll be fun. He’ll like it, I promise!" She said as you two stood near the place that made custom t-shirts with any prints. And at this moment, Natasha wanted you to order a jersey with Bucky’s number and his name on it.

"I don’t know, Nat. I mean, I want to do it, but what if he thinks that it’s too much?" You nervously played with the hem of your skirt.

"Now stop it." She stood before you and put her hand on her hips like a mother who was scolding her child. "You’ve been dating for more than a year, and his guy loves you so fucking much that he can’t even tear his eyes from you every time you two are in the same room. So when I tell you that he’ll love it, I mean it." You silently looked at her for a few minutes, but when she questionably raised her eyebrow, you finally gave up.

"Fine, you won. I hate you."

"I love you too, baby." Nat chuckled and dragged you to the store.

It seemed like there were thousands of people because everyone wanted to see one of the most important games of the season. People were already taking their seats, but you and Nat went straight to the locker room to wish the guys good luck. Trainer Fury was very strict about this, and it was forbidden for people not from the team to go there, but for some reason Nat always found a way to solve this problem.

"Guys!" Natasha loudly knocked at the door. "Are all of you already dressed up? I’m not in the mood to see somebody’s ass today!"

"Come in!" You heard Thor’s loud voice.

"Oh, I see our support group is here." As soon as you two walked in, Sam ended up between you and Nat and threw his hands over your shoulders, leading you deeper into the room. "Barnes will be here soon; don’t worry."

"Okay. Are you guys ready to beat their asses?" You smiled and looked at the almost entire team that had come to see you and Nat.

"Don’t worry, Sweets, we’ll win, as always." Tony answered you while he was cleaning his helmet. "But you should tell your boyfriend to stay away from Rumlow, or else he’ll be suspended again. By the way, is that jersey with his name?" You quietly nodded as the whole team made an impressive ‘woo’ together.

"You two are disgustingly sweet, you know that?" Sam rolled his eyes, and at the same time, the door slammed. "It’s him; go give him some kisses for luck."

"Shut up, Samuel." You laughed and left their little circle to find Bucky looking at his phone. "Don’t you want to say hi, James?" He moved his eyes to you, and his face immediately lit up with happiness.

"I just wanted to text you." He threw his phone on the bench and came closer to wrap his arms around you. "Hi, doll. I missed you so much today." He mumbled into your neck.

"I missed you too, Buck." You smiled when your heart filled with all the love you had for that man. "But wait, I have to show you something." You slipped out of his hands, excited and nervous at the same time. "Look what I’ve got!" You happily turned around to show Bucky your back and flipped your hair to the side so he could see everything better. "Do you like it?"

You had a big red jersey on you, to which Bucky didn't even pay attention at first. But when you turned around, his mouth went dry and his whole body became fuzzy. You had his number 17 and the word "Barnes" on your back. You were wearing his last name on your back.

For a few seconds, he was silent. He didn't answer your answer either, so with confusion written on your face, you faced him again, only to see a weird look on his face.

"What? You don't like it? Should I take this off? I'm sorry…" You started to apologize, only to be interrupted by his low voice.

"Don't you dare take this off, Y/N." He suddenly came closer to you again, and the next thing you knew, your back was slapped against the metal lockers when Bucky’s lips attacked you. He kissed you passionately and deeply, pressing his body against yours as if he was desperate to touch you and feel you closer. You couldn’t hold back the quiet moan that escaped your mouth when he tilted your head with his hand, helping his tongue slip into your mouth.

You thought that you heard the screams of the boys on the other side of the room, but they were really muffled when your head was filled with the thought of your boyfriend’s soft lips and warm skin. Bucky finally broke the kiss, leaving you two catching your breath while he put his forehead on yours and closed his eyes.

"You don’t understand what you’re doing to me. You look so fucking hot in this jersey, I want to fuck you right now." He whispered so only you could hear. "You made me hard, doll." To prove his words, he pushed his hips a little bit closer to you so you could feel the hardness.

"‘M sorry; I didn’t know that you would react like that."

"Hey, Buck, we should already go." Bucky’s grip on your waist became only tighter, when he heard Steve’s voice, and he nuzzled into your neck.

"Give me a minute."

"The game is gonna start soon."

"I said, give me a minute, Steve!" He said it louder. Bucky deeply inhaled, and it was obvious that he just needed some time to calm down.

"Shh, it’s okay, James." You put your hands through his hair because you knew that it would instantly relax him. "You're gonna win this game, right? And without fights." 

"I’ll do everything for you. I just love you so much, doll." He whispered into your neck when his body finally relaxed and he was able to move away from you.

"I love you too, James." He quickly kissed you again before turning around to face the team, who had knowing smirks on their faces.

"You two should get a room." Sam had an annoyed look on his face.

"Don’t worry, Birdbrain, we will. Are you ready for the game, or are you gonna stand here and complain all day?" Bucky winked at you and went out of the room without waiting for the answer from Sam.

"So…" Natasha suddenly appeared near you. "Did you make The White Wolf hard by just wearing a shirt with his name on it?" She grinned, as it was her original plan that worked.

"Oh, shut up!"

The game was tough. Hydra played dirty as always, and Bucky almost got into a fight with Rumlow during the intense moment. You almost jumped out of the seat during the last few minutes of the game, and when "Avengers" finally won, you and Natsha screamed at the top of your lungs.

As soon as the team was done cheering and hugging, Bucky looked at the seat where you were supposed to be but saw only Nat, who pointed at you already standing near the rim. He ran to you with the biggest smile on his face, and when he finally reached you, he crushed his lips into yours.

You didn’t care that many people looked at you, even though you knew that some particular groups of girls would gossip about it for the next week because… well, everyone wanted your boyfriend. You just wrapped your hands around his sweaty neck and pulled him closer to you as far as you could with a fence between you two.

"I’m so proud of you, baby." You whispered into his lips. "You were amazing as always."

"Thank you, doll. I'm happy that you’re here with me." He looked into your eyes as his right thumb rubbed your cheek.

"You know I couldn’t miss your game, especially if it’s that important."

"Mhm, can you… come to the locker room in like twenty minutes?" Bucky nervously licked his lips.

"To the locker room? I thought we were going to celebrate it with the team as always."

"Maybe later, but I’m thinking of something, so come, ‘kay?" He started to go back to the field, but not before giving you another sweet kiss on the lips.

***

You sat in the cafeteria for about twenty minutes, passionately waiting for the appropriate time to go to the locker room because you really didn’t want to see another naked man that wasn’t your boyfriend. One such experience was enough for you. You asked Nat to come with you, but when you repeated Bucky’s words to her, she just gave you a mysterious smirk and patted you on the shoulder, saying that you better go there alone.

When you finally got there and knocked on the door, you heard only Bucky’s voice, who told you to come in.

"James? What’s going on?" You asked as you came further into the room. It was empty except for Bucky, who came out of nowhere and locked the door. "What are you doing?"

He didn’t answer you; he just crossed the room, kissed you, and pushed your back into the metal lockers, just as he did it a few hours ago. He was greedy, passionate, and a little bit too rough, so you couldn’t keep the moan from escaping your mouth. Bucky’s hands squeezed your hips and then went higher under your jersey.

"Bucky…" You pulled away from the kiss, but he took advantage of it and started kissing your neck. Your eyes rolled back as you squeezed his shoulders and completely forgot everything you wanted to say. He sucked your soft skin into his mouth and even bit you. It was obvious that he desperately wanted to leave dark marks on your neck, but, honestly, you didn’t care. He smelled too good fresh out of the shower, with his bare chest and low-rise gray sweatpants, and his mouth… God, you knew what his mouth could do. "Baby, we can’t do it here."

"We can, and we will." He left your neck and looked at you, leaving only a few inches between your faces. "You can’t imagine how hard it was for me not to bend you over the closest surface when you showed me that fucking shirt. With my name on it? So everyone could see that you’re mine?" Bucky licked his already swollen lips. You pressed your thighs together, feeling how wet you were. He definitely felt that motion because his eyes became darker, and he looked like he was going to devour you at that same place.

"James…" You quietly whimpered, not being able to hold yourself anymore.

"Baby, fuck– doll, I love it when you call me that. You drive me insane." He decided not to lose any more time, so his hands went straight to the button of your jeans. He helped you get out of them, not losing a chance to touch your bare legs. "Now turn around, baby." You heard a deep moan, probably when he saw the back of the shirt again.

"Bucky, please." You whispered when you felt that more juices came out of you. You loved when your boyfriend became needy and possessive.

"Look at you, doll. You're already ready for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet." He said that when he put his hand over your pussy, he probably felt the heat and pulse. "I would’ve eaten you out, but I need you too fucking much, so I promise to do it when we get to my place."

"O-okay, just do something, please." You pushed your ass back and heard a loud, deep moan as soon as you touched Bucky’s hard cock through his pants. You put your hands behind your back to try to push down his clothes, and at the same time, Bucky removed your black thongs.

You felt his hard cock on the bare skin of your ass, the tip already leaking with pre-cum. Bucky squeezed your ass with his hands and moved his hips. His perfectly shaped cock grinded against your wet folds, and you couldn’t stop a whimper from escaping your throat.

"Please, don’t tease me–" You didn’t even finish the sentence when Bucky moved forward and buried himself deep inside of you. The mixture of pain and pleasure washed over you, and you didn’t even realize that you moaned too loudly. He was too perfect, filling you completely and stretching you around him in the most delicious way.

"Sh-h, sweetheart, you don’t want other people to hear you, right?" One of Bucky’s hands slipped under your shirt and laid on your stomach, and the other one covered your mouth, pulling you closer to his chest. "Good girl." He mumbled into your ear when you shook your head.

Bucky pulled away from you, still staying deep inside of your heat, letting you adjust to his size. He put one hand from your mouth on your back, which made you lean forward toward the lockers. The cold metal cooled your hot skin, but it still felt like you were burning inside.

Bucky finally started moving his hips, and the filling of his dick coming in and out of you made you almost faint. You two had sex a million times, but it still amazed you how full and satisfied he made you feel.

"That’s right, doll. You’re so greedy for my dick, huh?" He started to go faster, and you tried to move your body to his rhythm. "Was this your plan? Showing me that fucking jersey, so I could fuck you like a little slut you actually are?" His hand went over your back, tracing letters on your shirt with his fingers, and his motions became harder. In fact, it wasn’t your idea, but you should definitely thank Natasha because you really didn’t expect your boyfriend to become even more obsessed with you.

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, and you clenched around Bucky’s cock, making him moan. "I feel how you’re clenching ‘round me. I know that you like it when I call you my slut. Only mine." 

"Yes, Bucky– James, please." A sudden slap on your right cheek pulled another moan out of you, and Bucky just chuckled, knowing that you’re always loud with him.

"Please what, baby?"

"Let me cum, please– James! I’m so close." You felt too overwhelmed with pleasure, not even realizing that you started crying when his fingers moved to your clit, drawing little circles there.

"Fuck, one day I’m gonna make you Mrs. Barnes, so you will have a well-damn reason to wear this shirt." He deeply chuckled, moving harder and harder into you. More nasty sounds of skin slapping into skin and your not-so-quiet moans filled the room. "Can you imagine that, baby? Being my cute little wife, who likes when I fuck the shit out of her? Poor doll, crying. Can’t even handle my cock deep inside your pussy, can’t you?" He moved even deeper into you, and that was it.

"God– James!" You slammed your hands on the metal near your face, trying to find something to hold onto, as the wave of heat and extreme pleasure covered your whole body and mind. Your legs trembled, and the only thing that kept you straight was Bucky’s strong hands. He felt that you were over the edge, that you couldn’t stand on your legs, and he definitely felt more juices coming out of you. He looked down and saw how his shiny cock was coming in and out of your pussy that was particularly choking him, and that sight threw him over the edge. With the last movement, he pulled your body into him, wrapping his hands around you and releasing his hot seed deep inside of you.

You both moaned at the feeling of you being so full of his cum that it had already started dripping down your thighs.

"That’s it, baby." Bucky whispered into your ear. "You did so well. Are you okay?" He left light kisses on your cheek.

It was too intense; not a single thought came to your head, and for a few seconds you tried to put yourself together.

"Mhm." It was the only thing that you were able to answer because your body was still trembling with the leftovers of your intense orgasm.

You two stayed in that position for a few minutes until Bucky realized that you had become too sleepy. He tried to pull out, but you grabbed his hand.

"‘m too sensitive." You almost cried.

"I know, sweetheart, but now I have to clean you and take you home." Bucky gently came out of you, and your body got goosebumps at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you. It took him all the strength not to shove it back into you with his fingers, but you were obviously too tired, and he couldn’t properly take care of you since you weren’t at his or your bedroom.

Bucky fell on his knees, quickly took a towel from his bag on the floor, and carefully cleaned the mess between your thighs. He reached for your panties, helped you put them back, leaving a soft kiss on your leg, and then helped you sit on the bench.

He looked at your sleepy and tired face while putting on his clothes.

"Hey, doll? You’re too quiet. Is everything okay? Was I too rough?"

"I’m ‘kay, it was just as intense as when you make me come many times in one night. Just help me with my jeans; I can’t feel my legs."

"Of course, sweetheart." He helped you with your pants and then fixed your messy hair. You couldn’t imagine how you must’ve looked right now. "I love you so much. Thank you for being here today. You’re truly the best thing that ever happened to me." Bucky kissed your forehead and wrapped his hands around your body, standing up with you.

"I love you too, Buck. So so much." You happily buried your face into his neck, knowing that your boyfriend was going to take care of everything.

He picked up his bag and keys for the locker room and came out of there. Bucky didn’t even close the door when he heard a familiar voice.

"Do not tell me that you two did what I think you did!" Sam was standing there a few steps away with disgust and shock on his face. "I didn’t expect that from you, Y/N/N." He joked.

"Sorry, Sam." You moved away from Bucky’s neck and tried to give Sam your best apologetic smile.

"Well, I’m not. Since you’re here, close the door, Birdbrain; we hurry."

Sam stood there for a few more moments after Bucky left with you in his arms.

He decided that the headphones that he left in the room could wait until another time.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky x you #marvel #james buchanan barnes #marvel imagine #marvel smut #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier #college!bucky #bucky barnes fanfic #mcu x reader

[lovelybarnes]

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

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes ff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader idiots in love #bucky barnes x reader mutual pining #bucky barnes x reader fluffy #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes college au #college!bucky barnes #college!bucky barnes x reader #best friend!bucky barnes x reader #best friend!bucky barnes #best friend!bucky #best friends to lovers #bucky barnes best friends to lovers #bucky barnes x reader best friends to lovers #friends to lovers #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes request

[delicatebarness]

i think he knows | prologue

Summary: Following the town's typical good girl, Reader, as she finds herself drawn to the trouble-making bad boy, Bucky. Much to the dismay of her protective golden boy brother, Steve.

Warnings: None I don't think for this one. If you believe there is any that I should add please let me know.

Word Count: 947

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Series’ Spotify Playlist

A/N: Brooklyn isn’t New York Brooklyn, it’s just some random small town.

Tags: Let me know if you would like to be tagged for this series.

Brooklyn High School is the heart of the town. Nestled between white picket-fenced housing and greenery. It projected community pride and tradition. As did its golden boy, Steve Rogers, the star quarterback, captain of the basketball team, and straight-a student. His dedication to both sport and school made the town believe he could do no wrong.

Yet, behind the blonde hair and blue eyes, the facade of perfection was a protective older brother. Steve’s younger sister, you, was simultaneously his biggest weakness and most valuable strength. Everyone who met you loved you; A shining example of everything good and pure in the world.

Steve had a sense of pride swell within him, greeting his classmates with nods, smiles, and the occasional fist bump. It was evident how popular the eldest Rogers was by the turning heads and whispers as he walked by. He never took his eye off the ball, or you. Between the chaos of the hallways and Sharon’s daily routine of explaining her & Steve’s schedule of the day, Steve always made sure you got to where you needed to be. He guided you through the halls so you didn’t trip or bump into anyone while your nose was in a textbook.

Down the hall, Steve saw the one familiar face that he couldn’t bring himself to respect - James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. Bucky was the opposite of Steve, known throughout town as a ‘rebel without a cause’. Steve wore a varsity jacket, Bucky wore a leather one. Steve drove a car, Bucky rode a motorbike. Steve trained for football while Bucky smoked under the bleachers. Steve was in a loyal long-term relationship, Bucky wouldn’t keep a girl around for longer than 3 dates at the maximum. While making their way towards class, Steve noticed that something had caught Bucky’s attention, you. Bucky’s gaze lingered on you as you walked past the group he was standing with. 

Steve’s protective instincts kicked in, causing him to speed up. Pulling Sharon along with him, he shielded you from the brunette’s eyesight. Glaring back at Bucky, Steve gave a silent warning to stay away; causing Bucky to smirk back at the blonde before turning his attention back to his friends. Once around the next corner, Steve took the book out of your hand, breaking your trance. “Hey I was-” 

“Keep away from Barnes,” Steve cut you off while holding the book above his head, just like he used to do when you were children and wanted you to play sports in the garden. “I don’t trust him.” 

“Give it back, Stevie,” Using the nickname only you were allowed to use, you didn’t stop trying to reach your book, you cursed his height compared to yours. For many years you wondered where his side of the genes were from. You still remember the days when he had no muscles evident or even height; for a good year or so you were taller than him while being two years younger. Then one day, it was as if he transformed overnight. Suddenly, he was towering over you and looked like he had lifted weights every day of his life. You sighed when he gave you a stern look, knowing what he wanted to hear first. “I’ll stay away, we’ve never even crossed paths.” Satisfied that you understood, he gave you the book back before the three of you carried on with your journey to class. 

You walked the rest of the way with your book clutched to your chest, noticing all the boys in the hallway avoiding eye contact with you, you appreciated that books and studying let you escape that feeling. They helped you live a life you could only imagine having. A restless reckless life, no routine, no worrying about grades; even though you did enjoy studying and continuing to learn. The “good girl” image wasn’t something you planned or wished for, you just were. Since you were young, your parents would always say they didn’t need to worry about taking you anywhere. You were naturally polite, and well-mannered, often putting the needs of your friends and family before your own. 

~

By lunch, you realized that you truly understood Steve’s warning regarding Bucky. He had been playing with your thoughts all morning, distracting you from your learning. A teacher had asked what you would consider a simple question, the room expected your hand to go straight up into the air. However, you were too busy mindlessly doodling in your notebook. “Miss Rogers?” Your teacher had been calling, waiting for you to snap back into reality. She directed the question to you when you finally looked up at her. 

The embodiment of everything you were supposed to avoid, the bad boy, rebel, “low life” according to your dad. There still seemed to be something about Bucky that had you intrigued. Of course, Steve’s warning wasn’t the first time he had your attention, the town is small and people talk. You knew about the tall, leathered-up, rider and the things he got up to around town. All the girls wanted to date him, the majority got to, at least for one date anyway. Not you, you didn’t bother thinking about relationships while still in high school. You always said you’d wait until you're at college and haven’t got a personal guard dog scaring off anyone who tried. 

Looking up from your textbook that was laid down on the lunch table, your eyes met with him for a brief moment, your heart began to race. Had he been watching you the whole time? As if he could hear your thoughts about him, he began to smirk at you sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, sh-”

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #steve rogers x sister!reader

[buckrecs]

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...

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes modern au #bucky barnes college au #bucky barnes x female reader #college!bucky #athlete!bucky #hockey player!bucky #soccer player!bucky #football player!bucky #college athlete!bucky #bucky barnes enemies to lovers #best friend!bucky #bff!bucky #boyfriend!bucky #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes

[stuckymonkey]

Thief

College Bucky Au

Pairing - college!bucky x fem!reader

Summary - When y/n finds herself stuck with a very annoying study buddy who cannot shut up about the quarterback, Bucky Barnes, she can't help but vent to a charming boy named James...

Warnings - use of y/n, reader is female, implications of smut?

Word count - 2k

a/n - my first time writing with this style and ship! also my first time writing on this blog :D I hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

masterlist bucky masterlist

It's been two hours of trying to study for our physics quiz with some girl named Vic from my class. She couldn't shut up about how her date had been with the school's quarterback, Bucky Barnes. "I really think he's the one, you know?" she had said with heart eyes as she twirled her curly hair around her finger.

Vic's notes remained untouched. I nodded and hummed while copying down equations and formulas. She obviously didn't mind my disinterest, continuing to talk about how Bucky had complimented her necklace and the perfume she wore.

Checking the time on my phone, I gratefully noticed it was time for me to head back to my dorm with Nat and Carol. "I know he has a reputation as a bit of a player, but I swear I'm the exception. You should see the way he looks at me!" her jaw dropped as if she couldn't believe it herself. "Mhm, well it was really nice working with you but I have to get back to my dorm. Catch you later?" I asked while scurrying to gather my stuff. "Yeah, for sure!!"

I bolted out of the library and down the dark sidewalk to my dorm. I enjoyed the slight autumn breeze and rustle of the leaves as I walked down the sidewalk. Soon enough I saw the lights from our building come into view, walking faster to get into the warmth of our room. I burst into our dorm, wasting no time in talking about my night.

"Natasha, that was horrible. The entire time Vic talked about Bucky Barnes like he was a God," I started setting my stuff down on our island while I talked, "She went on and on about their date and how she's sure he's the one." I imitated in a high voice. "It was disgusting. Like I get he's the quarterback but how good can he seriously be?? Anyways, I at least got some notes done. How was your night?" That was when I noticed Natasha's boyfriend, Steve and one of his friends was sitting on our couch.

"Hi Steve." I waved. Steve was smirking at his friend. He went to introduce him but was quickly cut of by a "Hi, I'm James." He grinned and stuck his hand out for me to shake. "Sorry about your study session" he said with a smile. "It's no big deal. How's the game?" They were watching college football on our living room tv. "Good, it's just in the final quarter." his smile reached his eyes and crinkled them around the edges.

The rest of our night was spent watching football, eating snacks and drinking wine or beer. When the game ended and everyone started yawning, Steve and James decided to go. "Bye," Nat kissed Steve goodbye, before stepping back from the door with me and Carol. James waved with a boyish grin on his face before leaving with Steve.

The next day we were heading to a football game, one of the last before thanksgiving break. Being pre-med I didn't go to many games, and I couldn't help but wonder if I would see the infamous Bucky Barnes. Nat and Wanda led me to the change rooms to help Thor sort out his hair, something I would usually do for him prior to the game, but today he said it would be better to do it here since I was coming anyway.

Once in the changeroom I saw many familiar faces, Tony, Steve, Sam, Peter, Pietro and now James. I caught James' eye and waved. He waved back with that same attractive grin. I started braiding Thor's hair while everyone else got ready for the game. Soon it was time for me to find Natasha and Wanda so I could sit down and watch the game. Thor and the rest of the team bid me goodbye as I left.

"So, what do you think of James?" Wanda asked, earning an elbow to the side from Nat. I quirked my eyebrow at her actions, "He's nice, and cute." "She's blushing!" said Wanda. "I am not! I'm just wearing a lot of layers, it is fall you know." "There's Steve!" Nat called, pointing to the field as the players started to come out. "Does anybody know what number James is?" I asked innocently. Nat just shook her head.

After the game, we went back down to the changerooms so Nat could see her boyfriend and Wanda could see her brother. "Y/n! Your braid held up amazing today! Thank you!" Thor bellowed as soon as he noticed us. "You're welcome Thor! I'm glad it worked." I said with a laugh. I found myself alone as Nat and Wanda left, but not for long.

"So, I heard your study session went pretty bad. Want a different partner maybe?" I turned around to see James. "Are you offering to help me study physics James?" "Maybe I am doll," he smirked, "I promise not to brag about Bucky Barnes or any football players. Scout's honour." he said, holding up one of his hands in a very serious manner. I couldn't help but laugh at his antics. "Well with a promise like that, you sure do make it hard to resist." I smiled. "It was that bad, huh?" he seemed closer than he was before. "Yes! The entire time she went on about Bucky and how amazing their date had gone. She said he was a known player but that he had a special spot for her or something. It was crazy. She even told me he was the one. Last time I checked, playboys don't have 'the one'" his smile seemed to dim at this. "Yeah, I guess you're right, doll." I loved that nickname. I felt butterflies everytime he said it. "Well, I'll give you my number, maybe you'll have better luck the second time around?" he offered. His confidence didn't seem as high as it was before. "Of course!" I said before handing him my phone and taking his. I put Y/n with a flower beside it before handing it back. He had put in his contact as 'James'.

A week later, James and I found ourselves in the library, notes open, with drinks and pens scattered everywhere. We had been talking daily in the days leading up to this and he seemed like a really sweet guy. He was raised by his single mother, Winnie, who he adored, he had a sister named Rebecca and he's been playing football with Steve since they were 11. They seemed like great friends, I couldn't help but wonder why I hadn't met him sooner.

Three hours in, our drinks were gone and my head felt all foggy. James was an incredible study partner. He chatted with me every now and then, always a welcome break from copying down notes. He was smart and helpful without being a nuisance like Vic. "Thank you," I said. He looked up at me with tired crystal blue eyes. "For being an amazing study partner." I smiled. He smiled softly, "I didn't talk too much?" "You did perfect. 10/10. We should definitely do this again." he grinned and let out a low laugh. "Alright then. I think it looks like you found a new study buddy." "That I did."

Me and James kept up our study sessions for weeks, and the habit of texting daily. We made frequent visits to a cute cafe on campus, usually spending an hour or more per week. During those hours we tended to do more talking than anything. My phone pinged with a notification,

James

Text me when you can. Not urgent, just need to talk.

That was weird. I went downstairs to talk to Wanda and Nat about it. "Have you guys noticed anything weird with James?" I asked. They shared a look that made me feel like they knew something I didn't. "Guys?" "Y/n, I think it's better if he tells you." Wanda said with a slight frown. What could have happened? Was he okay? I immediately opened my phone and told him to meet me at our cafe in ten minutes.

"Y/n?" he asked, seeing me at our usual table. I stood up once I saw him. He looked gorgeous, with a black coat, fresh jeans and a plain white tee. His hair looked a little messy, like he had just gotten up. "Are you keeping something from me? Are you okay?" "Y/n-" "No! If there's something wrong, I deserve to know James! I'm your friend, I know you don't have to tell me, but I care about you and-" "Y/N!" heads turned from other tables and the chatter died down for a moment after James had yelled. "Y/n, I am not sick, and I'm sorry for yelling. My name is James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky Barnes." I looked at him wide eyed. I was shocked. He didn't seem like a playboy, or self obsessive. Or anything Vic had described. Except for charming.

"Okay." "That's it? I've been guilty about this for weeks y/n/n." "And you should be! You technically lied to me. Why didn't you just tell me J- Bucky?" He kept avoiding my gaze. "Because then you would know I was a player and self obsessed." He seemed shameful and his face lacked any trace of a smile, instead it had traces of guilt.

"You don't seem like a player or like that at all. I actually really like you." I'm sure I was blushing at this point, and his head shot up from where he was looking at his shoes. "Really?" "Really. You're sweet, you care about your team, friends and family, especially your mom and Rebecca. You would do anything for your family or your team. You're giving and caring and you technically pretended to be someone you aren't just so we could see where this goes." "You think this is going somewhere, doll?" he smirked. "Maybe." I shrugged.

Tentatively he spoke, breaking our silence. "Y/n, would you like to go out with me?" "Hm...." I pretended to think, making his eyes widen. "Yes!" a breath of relief escaped him, and he stepped forward to wrap me up un a hug. I felt him place kisses to my hairline before he pulled back and smiled as he looked into my eyes.

I would never get tired of this view or this feeling. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and his hair was still messy. Crystal blues peered down into my own eyes. Pure adoration covered his face. "Well Barnes, where to?" "What do you mean doll?" "Didn't you just ask me out?" I giggled. "You mean like you want to go right now?" "Why waste anymore time, Bucky?"

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #mcu #marvel mcu #marvel #college bucky

[inmyicyworld]

Jersey

College! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Natasha’s idea of getting a jersey with Bucky’s name turned out to be much better than you expected.

Words count: 3.2k

Warnings: established relationships, SMUT, unprotected sex (but they’re both safe and clean), dirty talk, sex in the locker room, a lot of pet names, Bucky is needy and caring, he’s deeply in love.

Author’s note: hey everyone! thank you for your feedback on my last posts, it means a lot to me. so this is my first smut, and I hope you’ll enjoy it. (I became creative with that photo of the red jersey because I couldn’t find a perfect picture, so I edited it for like half an hour😭)

I have many ideas for my future works, but you have something interesting in mind, feel free to write me about it. Maybe I get some inspiration and create something🩷🦋

*English is not my first language. Sorry if you find any mistakes*

masterlist my ao3 ko-fi

It’s been another game for the "Avengers", where your boyfriend Bucky Barnes was a quarterback. Today was one of the most important games against "Hydra" – their biggest enemy. Obviously, you couldn't miss the game, and Natasha, your best friend and roommate, will be with you as always. And right now, she has convinced you to do something that has been on your mind for a long time.

"C’mon, It’ll be fun. He’ll like it, I promise!" She said as you two stood near the place that made custom t-shirts with any prints. And at this moment, Natasha wanted you to order a jersey with Bucky’s number and his name on it.

"I don’t know, Nat. I mean, I want to do it, but what if he thinks that it’s too much?" You nervously played with the hem of your skirt.

"Now stop it." She stood before you and put her hand on her hips like a mother who was scolding her child. "You’ve been dating for more than a year, and his guy loves you so fucking much that he can’t even tear his eyes from you every time you two are in the same room. So when I tell you that he’ll love it, I mean it." You silently looked at her for a few minutes, but when she questionably raised her eyebrow, you finally gave up.

"Fine, you won. I hate you."

"I love you too, baby." Nat chuckled and dragged you to the store.

It seemed like there were thousands of people because everyone wanted to see one of the most important games of the season. People were already taking their seats, but you and Nat went straight to the locker room to wish the guys good luck. Trainer Fury was very strict about this, and it was forbidden for people not from the team to go there, but for some reason Nat always found a way to solve this problem.

"Guys!" Natasha loudly knocked at the door. "Are all of you already dressed up? I’m not in the mood to see somebody’s ass today!"

"Come in!" You heard Thor’s loud voice.

"Oh, I see our support group is here." As soon as you two walked in, Sam ended up between you and Nat and threw his hands over your shoulders, leading you deeper into the room. "Barnes will be here soon; don’t worry."

"Okay. Are you guys ready to beat their asses?" You smiled and looked at the almost entire team that had come to see you and Nat.

"Don’t worry, Sweets, we’ll win, as always." Tony answered you while he was cleaning his helmet. "But you should tell your boyfriend to stay away from Rumlow, or else he’ll be suspended again. By the way, is that jersey with his name?" You quietly nodded as the whole team made an impressive ‘woo’ together.

"You two are disgustingly sweet, you know that?" Sam rolled his eyes, and at the same time, the door slammed. "It’s him; go give him some kisses for luck."

"Shut up, Samuel." You laughed and left their little circle to find Bucky looking at his phone. "Don’t you want to say hi, James?" He moved his eyes to you, and his face immediately lit up with happiness.

"I just wanted to text you." He threw his phone on the bench and came closer to wrap his arms around you. "Hi, doll. I missed you so much today." He mumbled into your neck.

"I missed you too, Buck." You smiled when your heart filled with all the love you had for that man. "But wait, I have to show you something." You slipped out of his hands, excited and nervous at the same time. "Look what I’ve got!" You happily turned around to show Bucky your back and flipped your hair to the side so he could see everything better. "Do you like it?"

You had a big red jersey on you, to which Bucky didn't even pay attention at first. But when you turned around, his mouth went dry and his whole body became fuzzy. You had his number 17 and the word "Barnes" on your back. You were wearing his name.

For a few seconds, he was silent. He didn't answer your answer either, so with confusion written on your face, you faced him again, only to see a weird look on his face.

"What? You don't like it? Should I take this off? I'm sorry…" You started to apologize, only to be interrupted by his low voice.

"Don't you dare take this off, Y/N." He suddenly came closer to you again, and the next thing you knew, your back was slapped against the metal lockers when Bucky’s lips attacked you. He kissed you passionately and deeply, pressing his body against yours as if he was desperate to touch you and feel you closer. You couldn’t hold back the quiet moan that escaped your mouth when he tilted your head with his hand, helping his tongue slip into your mouth.

You thought that you heard the screams of the boys on the other side of the room, but they were really muffled when your head was filled with the thought of your boyfriend’s soft lips and warm skin. Bucky finally broke the kiss, leaving you two catching your breath while he put his forehead on yours and closed his eyes.

"You don’t understand what you’re doing to me. You look so fucking hot in this jersey, I want to fuck you right now." He whispered so only you could hear. "You made me hard, doll." To prove his words, he pushed his hips a little bit closer to you so you could feel the hardness.

"‘M sorry; I didn’t know that you would react like that."

"Hey, Buck, we should already go." Bucky’s grip on your waist became only tighter, when he heard Steve’s voice, and he nuzzled into your neck.

"Give me a minute."

"The game is gonna start soon."

"I said, give me a minute, Steve!" He said it louder. Bucky deeply inhaled, and it was obvious that he just needed some time to calm down.

"Shh, it’s okay, James." You put your hands through his hair because you knew that it would instantly relax him. "You're gonna win this game, right? And without fights." 

"I’ll do everything for you. I just love you so much, doll." He whispered into your neck when his body finally relaxed and he was able to move away from you.

"I love you too, James." He quickly kissed you again before turning around to face the team, who had knowing smirks on their faces.

"You two should get a room." Sam had an annoyed look on his face.

"Don’t worry, Birdbrain, we will. Are you ready for the game, or are you gonna stand here and complain all day?" Bucky winked at you and went out of the room without waiting for the answer from Sam.

"So…" Natasha suddenly appeared near you. "Did you make The White Wolf hard by just wearing a shirt with his name on it?" She grinned, as it was her original plan that worked.

"Oh, shut up!"

The game was tough. Hydra played dirty as always, and Bucky almost got into a fight with Rumlow during the intense moment. You almost jumped out of the seat during the last few minutes of the game, and when "Avengers" finally won, you and Natsha screamed at the top of your lungs.

As soon as the team was done cheering and hugging, Bucky looked at the seat where you were supposed to be but saw only Nat, who pointed at you already standing near the rim. He ran to you with the biggest smile on his face, and when he finally reached you, he crushed his lips into yours.

You didn’t care that many people looked at you, even though you knew that some particular groups of girls would gossip about it for the next week because… well, everyone wanted your boyfriend. You just wrapped your hands around his sweaty neck and pulled him closer to you as far as you could with a fence between you two.

"I’m so proud of you, baby." You whispered into his lips. "You were amazing as always."

"Thank you, doll. I'm happy that you’re here with me." He looked into your eyes as his right thumb rubbed your cheek.

"You know I couldn’t miss your game, especially if it’s that important."

"Mhm, can you… come to the locker room in like twenty minutes?" Bucky nervously licked his lips.

"To the locker room? I thought we were going to celebrate it with the team as always."

"Maybe later, but I’m thinking of something, so come, ‘kay?" He started to go back to the field, but not before giving you another sweet kiss on the lips.

You sat in the cafeteria for about twenty minutes, passionately waiting for the appropriate time to go to the locker room because you really didn’t want to see another naked man that wasn’t your boyfriend. One such experience was enough for you. You asked Nat to come with you, but when you repeated Bucky’s words to her, she just gave you a mysterious smirk and patted you on the shoulder, saying that you better go there alone.

When you finally got there and knocked on the door, you heard only Bucky’s voice, who told you to come in.

"James? What’s going on?" You asked as you came further into the room. It was empty except for Bucky, who came out of nowhere and locked the door. "What are you doing?"

He didn’t answer you; he just crossed the room, kissed you, and pushed your back into the metal lockers, just as he did it a few hours ago. He was greedy, passionate, and a little bit too rough, so you couldn’t keep the moan from escaping your mouth. Bucky’s hands squeezed your hips and then went higher under your jersey.

"Bucky…" You pulled away from the kiss, but he took advantage of it and started kissing your neck. Your eyes rolled back as you squeezed his shoulders and completely forgot everything you wanted to say. He sucked your soft skin into his mouth and even bit you. It was obvious that he desperately wanted to leave dark marks on your neck, but, honestly, you didn’t care. He smelled too good fresh out of the shower, with his bare chest and low-rise gray sweatpants, and his mouth… God, you knew what his mouth could do. "Baby, we can’t do it here."

"We can, and we will." He left your neck and looked at you, leaving only a few inches between your faces. "You can’t imagine how hard it was for me not to bend you over the closest surface when you showed me that fucking shirt. With my name on it? So everyone could see that you’re mine?" Bucky licked his already swollen lips. You pressed your thighs together, feeling how wet you were. He definitely felt that motion because his eyes became darker, and he looked like he was going to devour you at that same place.

"James…" You quietly whimpered, not being able to hold yourself anymore.

"Baby, fuck– doll, I love it when you call me that. You drive me insane." He decided not to lose any more time, so his hands went straight to the button of your jeans. He helped you get out of them, not losing a chance to touch your bare legs. "Now turn around, baby." You heard a deep moan, probably when he saw the back of the shirt again.

"Bucky, please." You whispered when you felt that more juices came out of you. You loved when your boyfriend became needy and possessive.

"Look at you, doll. You're already ready for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet." He said that when he put his hand over your pussy, he probably felt the heat and pulse. "I would’ve eaten you out, but I need you too fucking much, so I promise to do it when we get to my place."

"O-okay, just do something, please." You pushed your ass back and heard a loud, deep moan as soon as you touched Bucky’s hard cock through his pants. You put your hands behind your back to try to push down his clothes, and at the same time, Bucky removed your black thongs.

You felt his hard cock on the bare skin of your ass, the tip already leaking with pre-cum. Bucky squeezed your ass with his hands and moved his hips. His perfectly shaped cock grinded against your wet folds, and you couldn’t stop a whimper from escaping your throat.

"Please, don’t tease me–" You didn’t even finish the sentence when Bucky moved forward and buried himself deep inside of you. The mixture of pain and pleasure washed over you, and you didn’t even realize that you moaned too loudly. He was too perfect, filling you completely and stretching you around him in the most delicious way.

"Sh-h, sweetheart, you don’t want other people to hear you, right?" One of Bucky’s hands slipped under your shirt and laid on your stomach, and the other one covered your mouth, pulling you closer to his chest. "Good girl." He mumbled into your ear when you shook your head.

Bucky pulled away from you, still staying deep inside of your heat, letting you adjust to his size. He put one hand from your mouth on your back, which made you lean forward toward the lockers. The cold metal cooled your hot skin, but it still felt like you were burning inside.

Bucky finally started moving his hips, and the filling of his dick coming in and out of you made you almost faint. You two had sex a million times, but it still amazed you how full and satisfied he made you feel.

"That’s right, doll. You’re so greedy for my dick, huh?" He started to go faster, and you tried to move your body to his rhythm. "Was this your plan? Showing me that fucking jersey, so I could fuck you like a little slut you actually are?" His hand went over your back, tracing letters on your shirt with his fingers, and his motions became harder. In fact, it wasn’t your idea, but you should definitely thank Natasha because you really didn’t expect your boyfriend to become even more obsessed with you.

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, and you clenched around Bucky’s cock, making him moan. "I feel how you’re clenching ‘round me. I know that you like it when I call you my slut. Only mine." 

"Yes, Bucky– James, please." A sudden slap on your right cheek pulled another moan out of you, and Bucky just chuckled, knowing that you’re always loud with him.

"Please what, baby?"

"Let me cum, please– James! I’m so close." You felt too overwhelmed with pleasure, not even realizing that you started crying when his fingers moved to your clit, drawing little circles there.

"Fuck, one day I’m gonna make you Mrs. Barnes, so you will have a well-damn reason to wear this shirt." He deeply chuckled, moving harder and harder into you. More nasty sounds of skin slapping into skin and your not-so-quiet moan filled the room. "Can you imagine that, baby? Being my cute little wife, who likes when I fuck the shit out of her? Poor doll, crying. Can’t even handle my cock deep inside your pussy, can’t you?" He moved even deeper into you, and that was it.

"God– James!" You slammed your hands on the metal near your face, trying to find something to hold onto, as the wave of heat and extreme pleasure covered your whole body and mind. Your legs trembled, and the only thing that kept you straight was Bucky’s strong hands. He felt that you were over the edge, that you couldn’t stand on your legs, and he definitely felt more juices coming out of you. He looked down and saw how his shiny cock was coming in and out of your pussy that was particularly choking him, and that sight threw him over the edge. With the last movement, he pulled your body into him, wrapping his hands around you and releasing his hot seed deep inside of you.

You both moaned at the feeling of you being so full of his cum that it had already started dripping down your thighs.

"That’s it, baby." Bucky whispered into your ear. "You did so well. Are you okay?" He left light kisses on your cheek.

It was too intense; not a single thought came to your head, and for a few seconds you tried to put yourself together.

"Mhm." It was the only thing that you were able to answer because your body was still trembling with the leftovers of your intense orgasm.

You two stayed in that position for a few minutes until Bucky realized that you had become too sleepy. He tried to pull out, but you grabbed his hand.

"‘M too sensitive." You almost cried.

"I know, sweetheart, but now I have to clean you and take you home." Bucky gently came out of you, and your body got goosebumps at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you. It took him all the strength not to shove it back into you with his fingers, but you were obviously too tired, and he couldn’t properly take care of you since you weren’t at his or your bedroom.

Bucky fell on his knees, quickly took a towel from his bag on the floor, and carefully cleaned the mess between your thighs. He reached for your panties, helped you put them back, leaving a soft kiss on your leg, and then helped you sit on the bench.

He looked at your sleepy and tired face while putting on his clothes.

"Hey, doll? You’re too quiet. Is everything okay? Was I too rough?"

"I’m ‘kay, it was just as intense as when you make me come many times in one night. Just help me with my jeans; I can’t feel my legs."

"Of course, sweetheart." He helped you with your pants and then fixed your messy hair. You couldn’t imagine how you must’ve looked right now. "I love you so much. Thank you for being here today. You’re truly the best thing that ever happened to me." Bucky kissed your forehead and wrapped his hands around your body, standing up with you.

"I love you too, Buck. So so much." You happily buried your face into his neck, knowing that your boyfriend was going to take care of everything.

He picked up his bag and keys for the locker room and came out of there. Bucky didn’t even close the door when he heard a familiar voice.

"Do not tell me that you two did what I think you did!" Sam was standing there a few steps away with disgust and shock on his face. "I didn’t expect that from you, Y/N/N." He joked.

"Sorry, Sam." You moved away from Bucky’s neck and tried to give Sam your best apologetic smile.

"Well, I’m not. Since you’re here, close the door, Birdbrain; we hurry."

Sam stood there for a few more moments after Bucky left with you in his arms.

He decided that the headphones that he left in the room could wait until another time.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky x female reader #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #college bucky barnes #football player bucky barnes #marvel smut #bucky barnes smut #marvel fanfiction

[zenaidamacrouras1]

Now posting weekly-ish on AO3:

History of American Capitalism

A Stucky College AU by ZenaidaMacrouras1

A College AU in which Steve is a small history major and Bucky is the ･✧∘* ✧･STAR QUARTERBACK･✧*∘✧･ Steve is looking forward to his History of American Capitalism Class, though he's not sure what to do about the extremely handsome ✧･Star Quarterback･✧ who keeps sitting next to him during lecture. Look, Steve is just trying his best. Unfortunately, Bucky is too. May include: Jokes. Pining. Thirsting. Adorable boys who don't realize they are in love. References to US cultural events of the 1800s. Information about American football. Adopted sestras getting all up into Steve's business. You don’t have to understand American football or US history to understand the fic.

Rating: E

Word Count: Maybe 70k?

Chapters: 20?

Beta party! All the love to @booksandabeer and my pal tenmilestilts (on ao3 not on tumblr) for all their very appreciated labor and thoughtful comments that make me like all my fics more.

#stucky au #stucky fanfic #stucky fic #steve rogers x bucky barnes #wintershield #idiots in love

[wastingmylifesecondatatime]

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Updated: 16.01.2024 ✔ = completed 🔞 = mature Other masterlists: mother masterlist; avengers masterlist

NEW ADDITION:

No title 1 by @angrythingstarlight

↳ Mafia Bucky getting a tattoo with his girl's initials on his left ring finger under his wedding band “

College AU

SERIES

Nothing yet...

IMAGINES/ONE-SHOTS/DRABBLES

Are You Bored Yet? by @pellucid-constellations​​

↳ “God, you hated Bucky. Bucky probably hated you, too. Maybe. It was hard to tell when he was drunk and calling you pretty at a party you shouldn't have gone to.“

Thief by @stuckymonkey​​​

↳ “ When y/n finds herself stuck with a very annoying study buddy who cannot shut up about the quarterback, Bucky Barnes, she can't help but vent to a charming boy named James... “

Demon AU

SERIES

Nothing yet...

IMAGINES/ONE-SHOTS/DRABBLES

🔞 No Title 1 by @angrythingstarlight​​

↳ “The looks he gives you after you’ve just said yet another bratty thing.“

🔞 Aren’t you glad you read the latin? by @witchywithwhiskey

↳ “ You're exploring an abandoned church when you stumble onto a room with a mysterious old book written in latin. despite your friend's warnings, you decide to read the latin and end up summoning a demon. “

Marvel AU

SERIES

✔ The Proposal by @toomanyrobins2​​​​​​​​

↳ “ Y/N Arnaud is the liaison to the Avengers, but she’s also a French citizen. After a couple mistakes, her visa application is denied. Even though they can’t stand each other, Bucky offers to marry her in order to keep her visa status in the U.S. and avoid deportation. “

↳ Chapters: 14/14

🔞✔ Welcome home... Soldat? by @winterarmyy​​​​​​​

↳ “ Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else. “

↳ Chapters: 3/3

IMAGINES/ONE-SHOTS/DRABBLES

Do you love me? by @lovelybarnes​​​​​

Happy wife, happy life by @agentofkrypton​​​​​​

↳ “ Bucky’s ring... idk breaks or something (or he grows out of it) and he forgoes it for parent night and everyone thinks that ur going to get separated so the moms make a beeline for him and the next day (for idk like a parent-teacher conference) he comes with his neck covered it hickies to show them just who he belongs to. “

Mafia AU

SERIES

🔞✔ Just A Scratch by @angrythingstarlight​​​​​​​​

↳ “ Bucky can’t describe the way his heart seized in his chest after hearing you were in an accident so no he doesn’t give a damn about some car. You’re worth more than anything he owns. “

↳ Chapters: 3/3

IMAGINES/ONE-SHOTS/DRABBLES

No title 1 by @angrythingstarlight

↳ Mafia Bucky getting a tattoo with his girl's initials on his left ring finger under his wedding band “

🔞 Obsidian Nights by @dilemmaontwolegs​

↳ “Where Bucky is a fuckboy , sleeping with a different girl , sometimes more than one , every night , always walking around with a girl on his arm and making out with them even when he’s handling business . But then he meets you … he stops sleeping around and does everything in his power to win you over . And everyone is dumbfounded seeing the notorious mob boss and womanizer having puppy eyes for a girl that’s seemingly so unlike him and so different from all the girls they’ve seen him with before . And then you’re the only girl he’s kissing and having on his lap in public“

#smut #angst #fluff #fic rec #masterlist #x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #mafia au #marvel #college au #demon au

[ramp-it-up]

(Not Stucky)

Living together in NYC as recipients of the prestigious Stark Fellowship was fun times for you and Bucky (football quarterback), and Steve (captain of the lacrosse team). Work and play was a fever dream for your beautiful and talented group. When the harmless flirting between you and your besties goes further, you find that you have feelings for one, maybe both of your roommates.

What’s a girl to do?

Sugar

Steve and Bucky. You’re caught in the middle but these two friends don’t share, they compete. Who will win? And will it be you?

A game of Truth or Dare is the tipping point.

Sugar, Sugar

You made your choice. But now he’s going 5000 miles away. And you were not consulted. Your other roomie is right there and it’s his birthday.

The competition isn’t over.

Sugar Cubed- Near Future

#chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #bucky barnes #Sebastian Stan #college au #marvel college au #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x black!reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve Rogers #not stucky #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #college!bucky #college!steve #tony stark #wanda maximoff #vision #ask dj #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut

[delicatebarness]

i think he knows | chapter five - post-credit scene

Summary: A change of perspective?

Warnings: No Reader POV in this one.

Word Count: 757

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A/N: No one and I mean no one, asked for Bucky's pov. But, we're leaving our girlie alone in this one. She has some thinking to do. I also cried while writing this.

Tags: @bigtreefest | @caplanbuckybarnes | @angelbabyyy99 | @mega-kittyglitter-1 | @cjand10

The gentle touch against his shoulder brought Bucky back to reality as he watched her walk away, he never expected you to choose Steve over him. He understood the importance of family. He should have known this would have been the outcome. Blinking, he refocused on the present moment. Wanda’s eyes filled with concern as he faced her. Bucky gave her a small nod in an attempt to reassure her that he was fine. 

He watched as Wanda’s and Peter’s glances moved from him to the direction The Rogers family walked off to. Bucky knew there was a rocky history between himself and Steve. He never expected it to escalate like this, he knew he caused trouble. For the most part, it was intentional. But, he never wanted to cause trouble for her. 

He sighed, the images of her squeezing in between the pair, caught in the crossfire tore his heart. He cared for her, deeper than he could admit. 

As the crowd began to make their way through the hallways, following the same path as the family did moments before, a weight settled in his chest. What was he thinking? The Overlook? He should have known better than to take her up there, especially on a night like this.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself off the walls and made his way out to the parking lot. He ignored the lingering presence of her friends. He had to make things right with her, he didn’t know how or if it was possible but he had to try.

Outside, the cool air stung the slightly opened wound forming on his cheek. He ran a hand through his hair and he made his way back to his bike. Looking back for a moment, he noticed Wanda and Peter walking out only this time joined by Vision. A pang of guilt came over him as he realized he had brushed them off without a care. He should have thanked them for staying, he should have thanked them for the support he knew they’d be going to give her. But, he didn’t. 

Bucky rode through the streets of Brooklyn, the traffic from the game had calmed down and the only sound breaking the silence of the night was the engine of the bike. His thoughts swirled around his mind as he found himself instinctively headed toward the Rogers’ house. He needed to see her, he needed her. 

He turned the engine off a few houses down and stealthily made his way toward the side of the house with her bedroom window. He started to climb up, he just wanted her to know it was okay. He was okay, he wanted to see her that was all. But, as he reached the window ledge, he smiled noticing that she hadn’t kept the window shut even after he sneaked in last time. 

He hesitated for a moment, hearing muffled shouting coming through the gap. Steve. His heart sank to his stomach as he realized what was happening, he gave a moment while he debated his choices. Should he be eavesdropping? 

Despite the small voice in his head telling him this wasn’t right, he couldn’t tear himself away. His concern for the youngest Rogers outweighed right or wrong. He listened to every word.

“... They pick a victim, like you, and they place bets on how far they can push you, how long it takes, where it happens. They lure you in and make you feel safe and special. Then, they take advantage of you,” Steve’s voice echoed through the window, cutting through the darkness of the night, he could hear the anger and sorrow in the quarterback's voice. 

It felt like his heart was being stabbed with a knife, guilt. He never wanted to hurt her, never wanted to cause her any pain. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for the confusion and distress she must have been feeling after hearing Steve’s accusations. 

With a heavy sigh, Bucky retreated from the window. He knew she needed space, she needed time to process Steve’s words on own her terms. That being said, he didn’t find it easy to walk away. As he climbed down from the ledge, he heard her hiccups. The kind that is only caused by crying. 

A tear trailed down his cheek, the salt stinging the cut, adding to the ache within him. As he made his way back to his bike, he cast one last glance upwards her window. Their eyes met, locking in a silent exchange of emotions.

---

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#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #high school au #i think he knows series #i think he knows #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x sister!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader

[heavysoldat]

congratulations

dark!quarterback!bucky barnes x innocent!reader

warnings: smut (heavy dubcon, loss of virginity, groping, fingering, unprotected sex, handjobs, slight humiliation & degradation, spit, breeding), innocent reader, mean bucky, probably incorrect sports portrayals, plays on typical stereotypes

I’M SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY <3 thank you so much for your patience, life has been incredibly messy for me & writing has been very tough

read the warnings before continuing! you are responsible for your media consumption.

“C’mon now,” Bucky’s voice trails from behind you, arm outstretched to grab onto yours to pull you back.

You’ve just finished practicing- head to toe in your cheer uniform, Bucky freshly stripped of his gear, wearing nothing but his boxers and a white tank top.

“I have- I have to go,” You clamber, a giggle erupting from the back of your throat.

You can feel his hand finally clutch around your wrist, pulling you towards him to land against his chest. You brace yourself against it with your hands, pulling away slightly, but he keeps a firm grasp on you.

“Really?” He prompts, “What’s so important? What’s the rush?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, avoiding his gaze out of pure nerves- “I told the girls I’d meet them for lunch.”

He cooes, “Oooh. Lunch, huh? That’s pretty important. Way more important than me.”

You slam your fist down on his chest, not hard enough to actually hurt him, “No! No, that’s not what I-“

You can see the grin spread on his face, making you stop right in your tracks.

“You’re messing with me?” You whine over his laughter, “Stop- stop laughing, Bucky, it’s not funny.”

“C’mon, sweets,” Bucky stops, arms wrapping around your waist, “It’s a little funny. You’re just so easy to get to. It’s cute, really.”

On the outside, your relationship wasn’t unconventional. A jock with a cheerleader is something you see everywhere, an obvious glare of stereotypes from every corner.

But on the inside, you two are like fire than ice.

You spend most of your time with yourself, drowned in headphones and thoughts, keeping everyone else at bay to rest in your own bubble. Bucky, on the other hand, is rough. He’s domineering, blunt, outgoing- dominant. He’s nothing like the boys from your past, nothing like the boys who’d pass you notes during Sunday service. No- when he wants something, he takes it, without any complaint.

Standing at six foot three, blaring with muscle, that task comes easy.

“You’re mean.” You whine, attempting to slip out of his grasp. He tightens his hold with a hand on your back, slipping you tighter towards him.

“C’mon,” Bucky’s voice lowers, growing quieter, “You don’t think I deserve a congratulations? After how well I did today?”

You stare up at him, doe-eyed and small, lip between your teeth. “What do you mean?”

Bucky grins, wide and toothy, reminding you of a wolf from a fairytale- “Sweets,”

His hand on your back lowers, pulling your leg up to glide against it, slipping down under your skirt, “C’mon.”

Your body stiffens, arm reaching down to grab at his, ushering it away from your skin- but he stays put, asserting himself in place.

“Bucky,” You whine, stiff, “Don- Don’t.”

“What?” He feigns innocence, despite a finger locked under the band of your panties. “What am I doing?”

You don’t answer, chest heaving as you stare at the floor. In your relationship— which has only been afloat for the two week mark, he’s only gone so far as taking you on dates where you share the straw from a milkshake.

“Look ‘t me,” He says, “Sweets. Look ‘t me.”

When you do- his lips catch on yours, maneuvering you against a locker to keep you against it, mouth slotting against yours in a kiss. Your hand finds itself in the air, unsure of where to plant itself, pliant in his demands but unsure of execution.

After a moment, your mouth moves against his, reciprocating his advances with a nervous kiss. You can feel his lips curl into a smile, tongue licking at your top lip in a broad stroke.

When you open it to whine, you feel him shove his tongue in your mouth, searching every nook and cranny. Your hand finally finds home, pressed up against the locker behind you, still in a state of unsurety-

When his lips move down your jaw to your neck, you find yourself gasping for air, body gone completely still. “Bucky,” You gasp, “Someone- someone could walk in,”

He hums against your neck, pressing open mouthed kisses along the skin, “Uh-uh. They’re all gone for the day- made sure we’re alone,”

That stirs a feeling in your stomach. One you can’t pinpoint- it’s like a stirred pot of tighten nerves, filling your body with a sense of dread, tying together at the ends with a level of excitement.

When you feel his hand slide against your ass, you grab onto it, shoving it off of your skin and out of your skirt. “Stop.” He lifts his head from off of your neck, licking the saliva off of his lips with hooded eyes.

“What?” He pants, “Tellin’ me you don’t want this?”

You go silent again, lip quivering.

Bucky’s eyebrow raises, “You n’vr done this before, have you?”

You shake your head, still puppy eyed. You watch as he takes his lip between his teeth, letting it pop out to grind his teeth against each other.

After a pause, he moves. His hand clasps around yours, sliding it down, down, down-

“You feel this?” He has your hand, cupped around the bulge in his boxers, just light enough to not scare you away, “You feel what you’re doin’ to me, sweets?”

Your breath comes out shaky, fingers twitching, but you nod. Cause god, you can. All you can feel is heat— thick, and desperate, throbbing against your hand.

“It’s rude to leave a guy off like this,” He’s whispering, slowly grinding his crotch against your hand, “Rude to not finish what you started, sweets.”

You shake your head, “I didn’t-“

“You did.” He interjects, “You did. You got me like this, baby, ‘n you gotta help me with it. You don’t wanna be rude, do you?”

You shake your head, pouty and nerve wrecked. He smiles, again, that wolfy smile that makes you sick to your stomach.

“There’s my girl.”

Bucky glides your hand, guiding you to pull down his boxers, just far enough to let his cock spring free. You gasp immediately, body jumping back- and you can hear him laugh.

“Theeere you go.” He coos. He takes your hand to wrap around the shaft, holding it tighter in place when you flinch away. He guides your movements, up and down, slow at first.

Bucky shudders at the feeling, groaning, “Mmhm, thats good.”

Once your movements stay in rhythm, he takes his hand away from yours. You continue with the movements he instructed of you, hand slightly shaky— as he dips his head into your neck, placing open mouthed kisses along your skin, nipping at several parts just to hear you whine.

“Go a little faster,” He grunts, “Yeah, like that, fuck,”

Biting, caressing, licking and sucking around every piece of skin he can get, his other hand groping at your breast underneath your top. You can feel him fucking himself into your hand, going alone with your movements.

He pulls back, “‘S this the first dick you’ve ever touched?”

You nod.

“Good.” He moans, “God- I like bein’ your first. I fuckin’ love it,”

With his free hand, Bucky glides his fingers back underneath your cheer skirt. They trail up your thighs, around your hips, finding home at your mound. His fingers press strokes against your covered folds, stroking them up and down with heavy pressure.

Bucky mutters a shut up when you whine, pulling your panties out of the way. His fingers slide against your folds, finding a place on your clit to rub tight circles- rhythm faltered from your movements on his cock.

You find your body grinding against his fingers, against your own better judgement- chasing after him like he’s clean water and you’re dying of thirst. This makes him laugh, fingers catching against your hole, pressing in almost immediately.

You whimper, whining, slamming your head against the locker.

“Ssh,” He shushes you, “Fuck, mm, gotta get you ready, sweets, gotta get you ready for my dick.”

“What?” You panic, despite your pussy clenching around his fingers, moving inside of your walls with the same pace you give his cock.

Bucky laughs again, interrupted by a moan- “I’m not settling for a measly handjob, baby- I gotta feel your tight little pussy.”

“I-“ You stutter, panting, “I can’t- I’ve never- you can’t-“

“Shut up,” He grits, fingers slamming into your cunt with a firm thrust, “You’re g’na love it, I promise.”

After a minute, a brief pause- he grabs your hand with a grunt, pushing it away from his cock, while taking his fingers out of your cunt. He’s done the better half of scissoring you open with slightly careless strokes.

Bucky pulls your panties down your legs, lifting your skirt up to your hips. You find yourself struggling, scared by the idea of him spreading you open, fighting against his maneuvering hands— but he grabs you with a tight grip, turning you around to face the locker.

“There you go,” He grunts, hand firm against your hair, “It’ll feel good, don’t worry.”

You can feel his head at your pussy, gliding up and down the expanse of your cunt, light groans escaping his lips from behind you.

“For the resistance,” He starts, “You’re so fuckin’ wet. Practically soakin’ me.”

Bucky’s head pushes in— you feel yourself whining, whimpering with loud moans, feeling the way his thick cock stretches your inner walls beyond their limits. He does nothing but press further, groaning heavily into your ear, praising you for taking it, and how perfect your cunt feels.

With some grace, he grants you time to adjust, ass landed against his hips. When he feels you relax- he begins to move.

Bucky starts with a slow rhythm, grunting at how your cock squeezes him. “There you go. Fuck, pussy’s so fuckin’ tight, holy shit.”

You can barely blink before his movements grown in speed, hips smacking against your ass in an obscene slapping sound. Your whines echo in your ears, clutching at the lockers’ doors for dear life.

“Fuck, take it,” His cock is slamming against your cervix, prying you open and wide- “Take this fuckin’ cock like a good little slut.”

You whine, “‘M not- ‘m not a slut.”

“Oh shit,” He groans, slowing down his thrusts for a moment. He leans forward, hand grabbing at your chin, moving your face to look at him. “Yeah you fuckin’ are. What kinda whore lets a guy fuck her in an open locker room, where anyone can fuckin’ walk in? Spreading this pussy nice and open for me, like a good little fuckhole, right for anyone to walk in and see you getting treated like a whore.”

His thrusts get deeper, harsher, but still slow in rhythm. You whine every time he fucks into you, ass already sore from how his hips slam against it.

“Open your fucking mouth,” Bucky grunts. Despite your teary eyes, your weeping pussy, and your knotted stomach- you comply, opening your mouth.

Bucky spits into it, keeping it open with his hand on your chin. You whimper- flinching.

“Fuckin’ swallow it.”

With quivering lips, you do.

“Good girl,” He quickens his thrusts, fucking into you with the same ferocity as before, “Good fuckin’ girl. Jus’ do whatever I tell you, huh? Like a little fuckdoll should.”

Fingers glide along your lips, prying your mouth back open to shove inside. He keeps it open, prying it stuck with his fingers.

Your whimpers get louder, heavier, tongue lulling out to trap behind his finger.

“Pussy’s clenching so fuckin’ tight,” Bucky moans, “You gonna cum for me, sweets?”

You whimper, shaking your head- but the way your cunt flutters gives you away. You shouldn’t like this, you shouldn’t get off on this- but your pussy is begging for each thrust he lands into it, each spank he lands on your ass brings you closer to that ledge, drooling against his fingers like a bitch in heat.

“I f’l so dirty.” You barely manage to get out, tears behind your eyelashes and drool flowing out of your mouth, but he catches it.

“Good. Cause you fuckin’ are. Just a dirty little slut for me to use, getting off on how I’m breeding her. Like it’s all you’re good for.”

Your whines grow in volume, cunt clenching around his cock as your orgasm spears through you. He doesn’t stop, if anything his thrusts get faster, plowing into you as he chases his own orgasm.

“Fuck, that’s it,” He yells, “Good fuckin’ girl, good girl, cumming around my cock like that- fuck, goin’ so dumb around my fat cock, so fuckin’ good f’me. Fuck- gonna cum, gonna cum so fuckin’ hard in you, shit-“

With one last slam against your ass, Bucky cums, spilling his seed inside you with a loud moan. You can feel him filling you up, laying light thrusts inside you as he rides out his high.

“Oh fuck,” He breathes out, chuckling, pressing a kiss onto your head.

Bucky pulls his softening cock out of your cunt, watching as his spend spills out of your pussy with a groan.

He bends down, hands and knees, fingering his own cum back inside your cunt. Your legs squeeze together, whimpering. He slaps your ass one last time before standing up.

“Mm,” He groans, “Think I’ll keep you around for my next congrats.”

#sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan #bucky barnes #my writing #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

[notsopersonalcharlie]

Mid-Game Superstitions

(American) Football Star!Bucky Barnes x gn!reader

Note: Based on this idea I had watching the game last night and inspired by the fact that I like watching the sports ball sometimes. I'd apologize for the length but I wouldn't really mean it :)

You were nervous as all hell, nearly bit off your press ons in the car. It had been pandemonium when you arrived with the other partners, some of the wives coming with their kids in separate cars, but most of you all together. A few of them had done it before, been to a Super Bowl as the second most important people in the stadium, and Peggy had clasped a hand around your forearm as you stepped out of the limo.

You were glad for the anchor against all of the screaming. To your surprise people weren't just screaming for Peggy, or Sam's supermodel girlfriend, but they knew you too. It was delightful if not a little off-putting as you all posed to people screaming your name each of you wearing some form of the team's colors, red, white, and blue.

You'd gotten used to the hubbub of metal detectors and being ushered in a pack of security guards up to the box designated for all of you. Once things had calmed down, and you'd all taken copious numbers of photos and got drinks, you slipped away from the people you'd well and truly decided were your friends after a year of breathless wins and harrowing injuries, and made your way over to one of the security guards by the door. There were two at the door and one moving around the room, just in case anyone got by the first two.

"Uhm, excuse me?" The man turned. He was massive, but you were no more intimidated by him than by Bucky or any of the other equally massive players on the team. You'd learned through the season that the sweeter you were, the quicker you got things.

"What can I do for you?"

"I usually go down to meet my husband outside the locker room during half time. I just wanted to make sure there was an easy way to get there and that you knew beforehand!" Usually that's all it took, a smile and a little shrug. Today though, the man frowned and leaned back out the door to say something to his partner, you didn't catch it all, but he said something about security and concerns. When he turned back around he was still frowning.

"I'm sorry, I have to check with the rest of the security team. They're running things a little militant around here."

"Oh, I know a thing or two about militant! Bucky and Steve were in the Army before they joined the league. I'm sure there will be some way we can make it happen." You hoped you sounded confident, but not too forceful. You were already antsy from not being able to see him right before the game like normal, but you knew this was not a normal game. He nodded with a small smile and stepped outside, the door closing behind him. You loitered there, glancing back at the rest of the teams partners, many of whom had looked back over at you and given you hopeful thumbs ups.

It hadn't seemed like a big thing in the beginning of the season, the stop by the locker room at half time. It was Steve's fourth season in the league, second as first string quarterback. Bucky had played tight end in high school and college, and Steve had practically begged when the Commandos were planning their draft picks to get his best friend on the team. He would have done anything to keep Bucky playing, that included letting you sneak down to give him a mid-game pep talk and kiss.

It wasn't until it was clear they were going to the playoffs that the players and their partners noticed that the games you weren't there or the games where you weren't able to follow through with the ritual between the halves, the Howling Commandos would lose. It wasn't a perfect measure, and it didn't even seem like the team played worse when you weren't down there, it was just like there was one missing piece.

The door reopened and the man seemed surprised to see you still standing there.

"I'm really sorry, but we've been told we're not allowed to take anyone down there between the game. There's too much chaos with the half time show dancers and teams." You floundered for an excuse, but 'they're going to lose if I don't' seemed pretty weak, so you were left standing there when he closed the door.

"Darling? What did they say?" You turned to meet Peggy's eye and shook your head.

"Oh dear." Most of the rest of the box seemed to have caught on and pats on the back were accompanied by nervous looks. Even though it had been your ritual with Bucky, it had kind of become the whole team's ritual. Peggy said Steve had mentioned that it wasn't that Bucky played worse when you didn't go down, it was his dark expression and lack of usual energy and camaraderie that brought them all down.

"I'm sure it'll be ok!" someone's wife called, "They're going to be so caught up in the game that they won't even have time to dwell on it. They've been practicing so hard." Before you could have too long a thought about it, they were called your attention back to the field and you watched them run out onto the field, all of you hooting and hollering as you saw your boys get on the field.

-/-/-/-/-/-

Bucky was ecstatic coming off the field during the half time. They were up by one touchdown and the energy was electric, every single move gained praise.

"Everyone take ten, do not, and I repeat! Do Not! Think about sitting for longer than five of those minutes. We'll huddle up then." Coach Fury lived up the name, but he kept them all ready to play.

"Buck, you are a beast out there man! Insane!" Sam practically bowled him over with the unexpected chest bump.

"Me? What about you!" Bucky gathered up a bottle of water and Gatorade, wiping away sweat and grass stains before slipping off down the hall to the way they had come in. There were a few people loitering around and security by the load, but he didn't spot you.

"Scuse me." One of the security guards turned and his eyes widened.

"Ma-Sir, you have to go back in the locker room."

"Oh, I'm just checking if my partner came down here. They usually do. Black jeans, shirt with my name on the back?"

"Sorry sir, we aren't allowed to let anyone but the half time crew in here. No one was allowed down." Bucky frowned.

"But-" He was cut off by loud music and the security guard shook his head, practically backing him towards the locker room again. Steve couldn't help but spot Bucky hanging his head and nearly swore out loud. He knew that look.

-/-/-/-/-/-

When all was said and done, they had fought hard, but the other team had a few last tricks up their sleeve. All of you had made your way down to the back doorway, where the players had come in and gone out, and were waiting for your freshly showered, if not very dejected football players. Bucky and Steve were nearly always the last ones out of the locker room, and Peggy and you waited patiently as they began to stream out. Sam was the first to say it, but it came like a steady stream after.

"They shoulda let you down here." It wasn't a specific blame, not on Bucky and not on you, but mid-game rituals were habits, and the habit might have cost the team the game. Finally, very last, you spotted the duo coming out, hair wet and heads handing.

"Hey peach," Bucky sighed, falling into your open arms and pressing his face into your neck.

"Hi Buck. You played great." He mumbled something against the hem of your shirt that sounded something like 'could'a played better' and you kissed the top his head, the smell of his conditioner reminding you of home.

"Next time," Steve said as he and Peggy began to walk away, "Next time I am telling the security team that you gotta come down no matter what." You could feel Bucky smile.

"Next time," he said as he pulled himself away from you, "If they don't let you come down, I'm coming up."

"Next time Buck." He leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to your lips.

"Let's go home."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #football star!bucky #charliewrites #marvel #mcu #Sebastian stan

[iam93percentstardust]

Ohh can you do something with hand kisses and any of the dialogue you want for stevetony?

I wound up forgetting to do a dialogue prompt, but here’s a hand kiss and the start of a new AU for you, nonny!

Warnings for: omegaverse sexism

~

Steve is still not a party kind of guy. He never has been, not even when he and Bucky were in elementary school and his mom was asking him what he wanted to do for his birthday (the answer had always been pizza and a movie, and not just because money was usually tight for them). If Steve had had his way, he would have happily gone his entire college career without going to a single party, let alone one of the ones thrown on Frat Row.

But Bucky is living in one of those frat houses, and he’d put in a ton of effort into planning this party, and then all the rest of the guys on the football team had started razzing him over not wanting to go. Apparently the quarterback should make an appearance at at least one party each year, especially after the kind of successful season they’d had. Steve doesn’t remember that rule when he’d been scouted, and he’d been planning on saying so, but Bucky really had worked hard to plan it. So he’d told himself to suck it up, told Bucky that he would only be there for an hour (he was here to study, after all, not party), and made an appearance.

He’s regretting it now that he sees who all had been invited.

Steve’s college is technically an alpha-exclusive institution. But it’s been open to betas for almost fifty years. What it’s not open to is omegas. That honor would belong to the omega-exclusive university all the way on the other side of the city. And fraternization between the two universities is strictly forbidden. It’s an outdated rule put in place in this backwards town to protect unmated omegas, and frankly, Steve wouldn’t care about the rule at all (it’s patronizing to say the least given everyone comes of age at the same time) but getting caught with an unmated omega carries a hefty fine that Steve can’t afford and possible jail time for the alpha involved.

He doesn’t know who had invited the omegas (it certainly wasn’t Bucky, who’d looked panicked when Steve had shown up a few minutes ago), but he’d like to have words with them about taking risks when they’re not the ones who’ll get in trouble.

He escapes into the kitchen for a breather to escape the pheromones his classmates are putting out. The freezer stands as a cool beacon, and he wrenches open the door and sticks his head in, greedily sucking in lungfuls of the clean, frigid air. That’s better. He’s only been here for a few minutes, and he’s already wondering how soon he can talk Bucky into leaving his fratmates to their fates should the cops get called.

”Smell that bad, huh?”

The question startles him enough that he jerks upright, only to bang his head against the top of the freezer. Steve hisses through his teeth, hand rubbing at the spot where he’s sure a bruise will form. His mom always said he was hardheaded but it sure doesn’t feel like it right now.

”Ooh that’s gonna be a bad one,” the voice says sympathetically. Steve feels a hand cupping his chin, turning him back into the light. It’s only then that he realizes the blackberries and cream he’s been smelling since he walked into the kitchen isn’t from some dessert in the fridge, but from the prettiest omega he’s ever seen, who’s now fretting over his forehead like it’s a broken arm.

”It’s fine,” he says hoarsely, his hand coming up to catch the one tracing his hairline. The omega sucks in a breath, whiskey brown eyes going wide, and Steve abruptly realizes that he’s touching an omega. Scrambling for a way to salvage the situation before he gets himself thrown in a cell for the night, he falls back on what his mom taught him when he meets a new omega:

He lowers the omega’s hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it.

The omega’s hand is soft under his lips though his fingertips are surprisingly calloused against his own. The omega completely stills, red lips parting ever so slightly. Oh fuck, Steve realizes. His gesture is perfectly acceptable (if a little old-fashioned) back home in New York, but in this tiny town in New England? And he has no idea where the omega lives when they’re not at college, if it’s as liberal as New York or as conservative as this town, and—

“Woah there, alpha!” the alarmed omega exclaims. “There’s nothing to worry about here. We’re all friends, right?”

”I don’t even know your name,” Steve points out.

To Steve’s confusion, the omega says, “You don’t know my name?”

Steve blinks at him. “Should I?”

The omega’s scent turns sweet with shy pleasure. “No, I guess not. It’s Tony. Tony Stark.”

And, oh, Steve does know that name. He couldn’t grow up in New York and not know it. Howard Stark’s wild omega son, caught in flagrante with two alphas at his old college earlier this year and sent somewhere “stricter,” according to his dad, where they would curb his unhealthy urges. Steve and his mom had had plenty of discussions about parental abuse of omegas and how it was socially acceptable after the conservative media applauded the elder Stark’s decision.

Tony is watching him anxiously, clearly waiting for the other penny to drop. Well, Steve is contrary by nature, and even if he wasn’t, he would never judge an omega by their choices. The only reason he’s even concerned tonight is because of the potential consequences, not because they’re here at all.

”I’m Steve,” he says staunchly. “Steve Rogers. Pleasure to meet you, Tony.”

Tony’s mouth tilts up in a crooked smile that’s suddenly the most tempting thing Steve has ever seen. “Nice to meet you too, Steve. I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

Steve grins helplessly back at him. “Like a house on fire,” he agrees ruefully. Tony throws his head back and laughs, and aw hell, Steve thinks. A whole ninety seconds to completely smitten is probably a new record for him. Bucky is never going to let him live it down.

#alle writes #alle answers #stevetony #if you like please reblog #long post