cadencejames87

[cadencejames87]

🥵🥵🥵 Loooooove Sex Pollen Bucky 🥵🥵🥵

Toxic Heat

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Agent! Female! Reader

Summary: While waiting for the extraction team after a successful mission, Bucky leaves you and runs into a greenhouse room in the mission building with strange plants. Accidentally breathing in the gas from the plants he returns to you, but something is off.

Warnings/Tags: 18+, Smut, Cursing, Fingering, Rough Sex, Edging, Enemies to lovers, Hormone inducing plant, Vaginal sex, Multiple orgasms, Aftercare, Super Intense (my god this is so dirty.)

Word Count: 6.4k

The mission had been straightforward at first: infiltrate the abandoned research outpost, gather intel, and get out before anyone noticed.

But when the team’s extraction was delayed, you and Bucky found yourselves trapped inside the building’s dusty corridors, waiting for backup.

After the constant, usual bickering and insults, he left and you heard his footsteps retreat down the hall as he scouted ahead, his metal arm clanking softly with each step. You stayed close to the cracked wall, nervously fingering the strap of your gear. Wishing there were windows to bring in any source of light throughout the creepy dim building.

Suddenly, Bucky’s footsteps stopped. Silence swallowed the hallway. Slight worry grew over you, as you take a look down the hallway, however, no sight or sound of him to be found.

When you finally heard footsteps again, you quickly peaked your head past the doorway down the hallway. Seeing Bucky approach, his movements were slower, heavier. His dark eyes held something unreadable — a flicker of distraction mixed with a strange heat.

You noticed the sweat beading at his temple, the way his breath came a little too fast, a little too shallow.

“Bucky?” Your voice curious, concern knitting your brows.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned against the doorway, jaw clenched tight, hand pressing over his mouth as if trying to catch his breath.

Your heart pounded. You couldn’t just stand there.

Carefully, you took a few steps closer, eyes scanning his face for any sign of injury or distress. “Are you hurt? You don’t look well.”

Your fingers hovered uncertainly near his arm before gently laying it on the flushed skin.

The contact made him flinch, a sharp intake of breath escaping his lips, and his whole body tensed under your touch.

He looked at you, confusion clouding his dark eyes before darting his eyes away. “I… I don’t know what’s happening,” he admitted quietly, voice strained. “I can’t… focus.”

You bit your lip, cheeks burning with a mix of worry and something else you couldn’t name.

Despite your hesitation, your fingers lingered, tracing the line of his jaw slowly.

His heavy breathing filled the tight space between you.

He wasn’t the bold, direct, and frankly asshole of a man you’d expected to come back— he was confused, vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache.

And yet, beneath that confusion simmered something primal, waiting to break free.

You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to pull back as Bucky’s gaze locked with yours—dark, confused, and somehow raw in a way you’d never seen before. His chest rose and fell rapidly, breath hitching like he was struggling to steady it.

“Do you need to sit down?” you offered softly, voice barely above a whisper. You hated how your own hands trembled, but you couldn’t just leave him like this.

Bucky shook his head slowly, jaw still tight. “No,” he said, voice rough, “I just… need a moment.”

You edged closer, feeling the warmth radiating off his body, the subtle tremor running through his muscles. Your fingers brushed again against his skin—this time along the softer flesh of the inside of his wrist, inspecting his seemingly pulsing veins.

He flinched again, that sharp intake of breath turning deeper, ragged. His eyes fluttered closed for a second, turning his face away from you as if trying to contain something he didn’t understand.

“Bucky…” Your voice softened, uncertainty threading through every word. “What’s going on?”

He opened his eyes, dark pools swirling with confusion and frustration. “I don’t know,” he said roughly, voice breaking just slightly. “I feel… wrong. Hot. Like I’m… burning up from the inside.”

You bit your lip, heart clenching. The man who is feared, who’s a deadly super soldier, was now trembling under your touch, vulnerable and raw.

Without thinking, your hand moved to rest flat against his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

His breathing hitched, eyes darkening as if the simple contact overwhelmed him. “Don’t…” he growled out, voice hoarse.

The room seemed to shrink around you both, heavy with unspoken tension. You wanted to pull away, to respect his boundaries, but your body betrayed you—drawn to him like a moth to flame.

“Bucky,” you whispered, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your palm pressed against his chest, trying to calm the wild thumping of his heart. Bucky’s breath was ragged, uneven, like he was barely holding himself together. His dark eyes flicked toward you, filled with confusion—and something raw, unfiltered.

He growled softly, a frustrated sound. “I ran into some kind of room in the west wing with a bunch of plants. They were releasing some kind of gas. I don’t know what it’s doing to me, but—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening. “—it’s making me feel things. Things I don’t like.”

You raised an eyebrow, and try to lighten the mood. “Oh great. Just what I needed: Barnes, the grumpy tin man, suddenly turned into a hot mess.” You say softly, rolling your eyes with a slight smile

He scowled but didn’t deny it. “Keep it up, and I might just knock that smug smile off your face.”

“Yeah, yeah. Not like this you won’t” you teased, voice light despite the tension.

Bucky took a deep, shuddering breath. “Don’t tempt me. Besides, this isn’t a joke. I don’t know how to control it, and I don’t want you getting involved.”

You stepped closer, still wary but unable to look away. “Since when did you care what I think?”

His eyes darkened, and he took a half-step towards the other side of the room, like you might be contagious. “Since this gas has me all messed up and I’m not sure I’m still me.” He growls out

You bit your lip, trying not to let your cheeks betray how much the sight of him like this was affecting you.

“Look,” he said, voice low and rough, “I understand that we’re partnered up for this mission, but—” His voice cracked slightly, “right now… I need you to just stay out of it. Or maybe just don’t make it worse.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Fine. But only because I’m curious what’ll happen next.” Not sliding in the tid-bit that you’re still extremely worried for him no matter how aggravating he may be or how many times he’s insulted you back at the avengers tower.

Bucky’s glare was sharp, but something softer flickered beneath it before he turned away, trying to hide the vulnerability that scared him.

Bucky’s back was stiff as a board as he leaned against an abandoned table in the room, jaw clenched tight, but the rapid rise and fall of his chest gave him away. The gas wasn’t just messing with his head—it was twisting something deeper, something primal he clearly didn’t want to admit.

Without a word, he suddenly stepped closer, the heat radiating off him intense and raw. His dark eyes locked onto yours with a sharpness that made your breath catch.

Then, almost abruptly, his hand reached out and grabbed your wrist—his grip firm but not cruel.

His voice came low and rough, like gravel scraping over steel. “You don’t get it. This gas… it’s messing with me. Making me feel things I shouldn’t.”

You blinked, caught off guard, heart pounding.

He swallowed hard, eyes darkening as if fighting to hold himself back. “I don’t want you involved. Hell, I don’t want anyone involved. Especially not you.”

You stepped back slightly, wary but steady. “Just cut deeper why don’t you.” You say dripping with sarcasm.

Bucky’s jaw tightened even more. Standing in silence very clearly thinking something through despite the haze he’s under. “I feel like I’m starting to lose control—and you’re the one thing that’s driving me crazy.”

His breath hitched. “I don’t want this. I don’t want to want you.”

Your cheeks flushed but you didn’t pull away.

He hesitated for a moment, then leaned in just enough for you to feel his breath on your skin.

“Don’t make me lose it,” he warned, voice rough and low.

The closeness of his face, feeling the hotness of his breath fanning over your skin, the tone of his voice. You can’t help but to begin breathing heavily. Despite you and Bucky’s mockery, insults, and arguing, you can’t help but be affected by how he’s acting towards you right now. Your eyes scan over him as you fail to resist the squeezing of your thighs and the feeling of molten heat pool in your stomach.

You notice his nostrils flare and his eyes close, inhaling deeply as he lets out a low groan. His eyes open and burned into yours, fierce and unyielding, but underneath there was a raw vulnerability that made your chest tighten. He walks closer towards you, making you back up until your back hits the cold concrete wall. The tension between you wasn’t just the usual snark or competition anymore—it was something sharper, hotter, dangerous.

Bucky closed the last few inches and pressed his palm flat against the wall beside your head, trapping you gently but firmly. His metal fingers brushed lightly against your temple, and a flicker of something desperate crossed his face.

“You don’t know what this is doing to me,” he muttered, voice thick with frustration and something darker. “I’m not… me right now. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

You swallowed hard, nerves sparking but your gaze steady. “You won’t.”

He swallowed again, chest rising and falling faster now, like every breath was a fight.

Then, almost reluctantly, his hand found yours—fingers curling around yours, cool against your skin but firm, possessive.

“I’m warning you,” he breathed, his voice dropping lower, “if you let me, I might not going to be able stop.”

His gaze flicked down to your lips, then back up, heavy with unspoken promises and desperate need.

You felt your heart hammer in your chest, caught between fear and the undeniable pull drawing you closer to him.

Bucky’s grip tightened around your fingers, a low growl rumbling deep in his throat. His dark eyes searched your face like he was looking for permission—and maybe begging for it too, though his pride wouldn’t let him say so.

“I don’t want this,” he snarled softly, voice rough and raw, “but I’m losing the fight.”

His breath hitched, hot and ragged against your skin. The heat radiating off him was suffocating—an almost tangible force pulling you closer, burning away the space between.

You wanted to pull back, wanted to remind him that you weren’t sure what this was either, that this was the opposite of professional, opposite of what you two were—but something in his expression held you fast, unsteady and trembling.

His metal hand slid from your fingers to your wrist, then higher, tracing the delicate skin of your forearm. Every inch was electric under his touch, like you were both alive on a knife’s edge.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered hoarsely, voice thick with frustration, “and I will. But if you don’t…”

He closed the distance suddenly, lips brushing a harsh, breathless kiss against yours—rough and demanding, like he was trying to ground himself through the contact.

Your breath caught, shyness warred with a fierce, blooming heat deep inside you.

Bucky’s hands framed your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as if trying to memorize every line, every trembling breath.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, voice low and vulnerable beneath the roughness. “Scared I won’t be able to pull back.” You feel him physically trying to restrain himself from pulling himself closer to you.

You swallowed, heart pounding louder than your thoughts.

“No,” you whispered, voice soft but sure. “Don’t pull back.”

His lips instantly found yours, crashing into your lips, with a wild insatiable hunger. There was no gentleness in it, just raw need and the taste of restraint shattering. He gripped your waist, his hands big and calloused, roughly pulling you flush against his body like he needed you to stay anchored to the ground.

You gasped into him, the sound catching in your throat as you felt the heat of him—every line of muscle, every tremble in his body that betrayed how hard he was fighting to stay in control.

“I shouldn’t want this,” he growled, voice rough against your lips, “not with you… not like this.”

But his hands didn’t stop. One slid up under your shirt, skimming over your ribs, fingertips dragging goosebumps in their wake. His touch was desperate, reverent, like he needed to memorize your body just to keep from coming undone.

“I didn’t even like you,” he muttered hoarsely, forehead resting against yours, breath ragged. “You always ran your mouth, always got under my skin…”

Your hands clutched at the front of his tactical shirt, heart pounding against your ribs. “You didn’t like me?” you managed, breathless.

“I hated how much I noticed you,” he growled. “How I couldn’t stop watching the way you moved… how you looked at me like you saw past the metal and my history.”

You whimpered as his fingers slipped beneath your waistband, teasing the skin just above your underwear. His touch wasn’t tentative—it was firm, claiming. Possessive. But there was a tremble in it, like he wasn’t sure if he was about to worship you or ruin you.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered again, voice cracking with restraint. “Please.”

But you couldn’t. All you could do was look up at him, seeing him, pieces of hair falling in his face, his dark eyes staring into yours and let out a soft needy whine.

That was all he needed.

His mouth moved to your neck, kissing and biting, the sting softened by the heat of his tongue. His hand slid into your pants, cupping you firmly. The gasp that tore from your throat only made him press closer, lips brushing your ear.

“Fuck, you’re warm,” he groaned. “So soft…”

His fingers dipped lower, teasing over your folds, dragging a moan from you that made his grip falter—like your voice alone was a match to dry gasoline.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” he muttered, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as his fingers slipped inside you, slow but thick and deep. “Don’t even know if this is the gas anymore… or just you.”

You could barely breathe, body melting into his as he thrust his fingers slow and deep, watching your every reaction like he was starving for it. He was so careful despite the desperation coiled in his muscles—his touches growing rougher, but still holding back that last thread of restraint.

His fingers, curling just enough to make your knees shake. You gasped, a tremor running through your thighs as you clutched at the front of his suit, but Bucky didn’t rush—not yet.

He growled under his breath, forehead still pressed to your shoulder, lips ghosting against your skin as his fingers dragged slick and steady inside you.

“Goddamn…” he breathed, voice broken with awe and frustration. “You’re driving me out of my fucking mind.”

You whimpered, your breath shallow. “Bucky…”

His name made him shudder.

He pulled his hand away too soon, and you let out a small sound of protest. Bucky met your eyes then—completely unguarded. His pupils were blown wide, his lips slightly parted, sweat shining along his jaw.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered. “I’m hanging on by a thread.”

You weren’t sure if that was a plead, command or a threat.

Then, you could feel the thick bulge of him straining against his pants, grinding against your soaked core through the fabric of your clothes.

“Feel that?” he rasped into your ear, rutting against you. “That’s what you’re doing to me. And I haven’t even gotten inside you yet.”

Your breath caught. His words lit a fire in your belly, made your thighs clench, made you ache.

His hand slipped down again, running two fingers over your clit.

“Fuck. You’re soaking.”

The curse slipped through his teeth like a prayer as your eyes roll back at the heavenly friction of his hand.

You whine once more as he brought his fingers up and stared at them—coated in your wetness—then met your eyes again as he sucked them slowly into his mouth.

Your legs nearly gave out. “Bucky…” you mutter.

“I’m not gonna fuck you yet,” he said, voice rough and tight like it hurt to say it. “Not until you’re begging for it.”

You whined, hips rolling instinctively toward him, chasing friction.

“Oh, you like that?” he murmured darkly, hand sliding between you again, rubbing slow, heavy circles over your clit. “The mouthy little agent who never shuts up… can’t even form a sentence now.”

You were panting, your body hypersensitive to every stroke, every drag of his rough voice.

“I want to ruin that attitude,” he growled. “Make you forget how to talk. Make you cry.”

His fingers dipped inside you again, thrusting slow and deep, each stroke deliberate and angled just right. You clenched around him, a soft cry leaving your lips, and he chuckled low and sharp in your ear.

“There it is,” he whispered. “That’s what I wanted. So fucking tight around my fingers already.”

His metal hand slid up your shirt, palming your breast through your bra, thumb flicking across your nipple with just enough pressure to make your back arch. “You gonna fall apart just from this?” he taunted, voice husky. “We haven’t even started yet.”

“Bucky—” you gasped.

“No,” he cut in, hot breath against your neck. “Not yet. You don’t get to come until I say.”

Your head hit the wall behind you with a soft thud, pleasure cresting inside you—too much, too slow, not enough.

Bucky’s mouth moved to your jaw, your throat, licking and biting as his fingers fucked you slow, precise, dragging you closer to the edge and pulling you back again and again.

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?” he whispered. “Like you hate me. But underneath it? You wanted this. You wanted me.”

Your moan betrayed you.

He grinned against your throat, then sank his teeth into the delicate skin there—not enough to hurt, just enough to make you gasp. His hand never stopped moving, never gave you what you needed all the way. He was relentless, teasing, every inch of him vibrating with tension and barely held control.

“I could keep you like this for hours,” he muttered. “Desperate. Soaking wet. Shaking.”

He dragged his fingers out of you and pressed them between your lips.

“Taste how sweet you are,” he said roughly. “And tell me you don’t want me.”

Your mouth opened before you could stop yourself, and the taste of your own need sent heat rushing straight to your core.

Bucky growled. “Fuck, that’s it. That’s what I wanted.”

He pushed his hips into yours again, the thick, throbbing heat of him pressing right against your clit through the fabric.

“You ready?” he asked darkly. “Because once I’m inside you, I’m not stopping.”

You were trembling beneath him, body pinned to the wall, soaked and aching. Every nerve ending buzzed under the weight of his mouth, his hands, his voice—dragging you to the edge, over and over, without mercy.

And still… he hadn’t taken you.

Until now.

Bucky’s jaw flexed like he was still trying to fight it—but the look in his eyes told you he was past the point of no return.

“I told myself I wouldn’t,” he growled, lips ghosting over yours. “Told myself I could ride it out. Wait for backup. Do the right thing.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, his hips grinding against you in a slow, punishing circle. You felt him—thick, hard, straining inside the confines of his pants—and your breath hitched.

“But I can’t fucking think straight,” he whispered, almost like it hurt. “Not when you’re this wet. This soft. Looking at me like you’d let me break you open.”

You didn’t say a word. You couldn’t. The air was thick with your shared breath, hot and humid, and your voice had long since abandoned you.

He slid your pants down, low enough for you to shimmy and step out of them. He reached down, undid his belt with shaking hands, and freed himself—thick and heavy and flushed, the head already leaking. The sight of it made your thighs clench instinctively.

Bucky groaned at the sight of you. “Fuck, look at you. So shy all the time, but now…” he leaned towards you, grabbed your thigh and wrapped it around his waist. He pushed your soaked underwear to the side, lined himself up and paused, metal hand gripping your thigh, holding you open, holding you still.

“Last chance,” he rasped. “You want me?”

You look up at him with pleading eyes and a whine, “please, Bucky….”

That was all it took.

He thrust forward in one deep, brutal stroke,

burying himself inside you to the hilt. You cried out, nails digging into his arms as your body stretched to take him.

“Shit,” he gritted through clenched teeth, eyes screwed shut. “So fucking tight. You feel—God—you feel unreal.”

He held still for a beat, shaking from the effort not to lose it too fast. But you clenched around him, and he groaned low in his throat, head falling to your shoulder.

Then he started to move.

Each thrust was deep, rough, and controlled—but just barely. He was shaking with it, like he couldn’t believe how good it felt, like every time he slammed into you it pulled a piece of him loose.

“You like it rough, sweetheart?” he growled against your ear.

But you were already gone—moaning, head back against the wall, gasping as your body met his rhythm instinctively. You give a messy nod.

“Yeah,” Bucky snarled, gripping your ass and lifting you a little higher so he could drive in deeper, your leg not wrapped around his waist barely touching the ground. “You take me so fucking good.”

The sound of skin slapping echoed off the walls, the wet slick of your arousal making each brutal thrust louder, messier.

“You think I don’t see you?” he grunted, voice ragged. “Always biting your lip around me, looking away. Playing innocent. But you’re not.”

His pace picked up, hips slamming into yours harder now, deeper. “You want this. You’ve always wanted this.”

“Bucky—” you whimpered, voice cracking.

“Say it,” he growled. “Say you want me.”

“I want you,” you gasped, clinging to him.

He cursed viciously, his control unraveling at the sound of your voice.

“Fuck—I’m not gonna last—” he bit out, slamming in deeper with each thrust. “You feel too good—too tight—I’ve never—”

He cut himself off with a broken groan, his lips crashing against yours in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he fucked you harder, rougher. Your body was shaking, teetering right at the edge, and he could feel it.

“Come for me,” he commanded, voice thick and guttural. “Now.”

And with one last, brutal thrust—he hit the spot that sent you spiraling.

You shattered around him, crying out, trembling as your climax tore through you, soaking him. Bucky followed instantly with a strangled groan, burying himself deep as he came hard, hips jerking, forehead pressed to yours as he gasped your name like a lifeline.

His hips slowed, but only slightly—just enough to ride out his own release as you trembled around him, body slack and twitching in his hold. But he didn’t pull out. He didn’t ease away. He stayed inside you, panting against your neck, every muscle still coiled tight like a predator that hadn’t fed nearly enough.

You whimpered softly as his cock throbbed still-hard inside you, impossibly thick, sensitive—but not softening. Not even a little.

“…You’re still hard,” you breathed, dazed.

Bucky’s shoulders shook with a low, humorless laugh. He dragged his mouth up your throat, tongue catching on the sweat at your collarbone before he murmured, “I know.”

His voice was darker now—gravel scraping over flame—and when he pulled his head back to look at you, his pupils were still blown wide, black swallowing the blue.

“That plant,” he said, panting, “it did something. I don’t feel normal, I—” He gritted his teeth and rolled his hips forward again, slow and grinding.

You moaned, sharp and overstimulated, but it only made him groan. “Still not enough.”

He pulled out just a few inches, dragging his cock against your soaked, sensitive walls—then slammed back in with a low, wrecked sound.

Your body jolted, pleasure colliding with sensitivity, making you gasp. “Bucky—”

“Can’t stop,” he growled. “Can’t. You feel too good. I need more.”

He hooked your other leg up around his waist, spreading you open and lifting you slightly off the ground. The shift in angle drove him deeper, the stretch unbearable, the pressure mounting again despite how recently you'd come. You were already growing slick around him again, your body betraying your mind as it begged for more.

“I should hate you for this,” he whispered against your lips. “You make me insane.”

“Then hate me,” you whispered back, breathless.

He snarled—and then snapped.

His mouth crashed to yours, biting and claiming, tongue dragging over your lips before plunging deep. At the same time, he started to fuck you again—harder than before, frantic and relentless, each thrust punching a moan out of you.

You had no defense anymore. No sharp quips, no witty retorts—just Bucky, inside you, growling your name like a curse and a prayer all at once.

“Gonna keep you like this,” he panted, lips brushing your ear. “Stuffed full of me. Until you can’t walk straight. Until everyone on comms knows what I did to you.”

His words hit you like lightning, heat pooling fast and hard in your gut again.

“You want that?” he murmured, nipping your earlobe. “Want me to ruin you until all you can say is my name?”

You couldn’t speak. You could only cry out, moaning shamelessly as he started slamming into you again—rough, wild, deep. His grip bruised your thighs, his mouth never left your skin, and every thrust sent stars behind your eyes.

“You’re mine right now,” he gritted, pounding into you. “Just mine.”

Your second orgasm hit harder—sharper—your body seizing around him with a cry that echoed through the empty hall. You were pulsing around him, milking him, but this time, Bucky didn’t come.

He just groaned and kept going.

His breath was ragged now, like he was in pain from holding back.

“I’m not done,” he choked out, pressing your back tighter to the wall. “Not until I’ve wrung every fucking sound out of you.”

Then he pulled out, slowly, deliberately—and spun you around.

Your hands hit the wall just in time to catch yourself as he dragged your underwear the rest of the way off. You whimper at the cold concrete pushing against your soft chest. His hands gripped your hips, pulling your ass back toward him—and without pause, he shoved himself back in from behind with a deep, wrecked growl.

You gasped, moaning at the new angle, at how deep he felt this way.

His hand came around to your front again, fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing in messy circles.

“You’re taking me so fucking well,” he snarled. “Like you were made for me.”

The words made you clench, and he hissed through his teeth, hips stuttering.

“Say it,” he barked. “Tell me you want more.”

“More—” you choked, hands scrambling for purchase against the wall. “Bucky—God—more—”

He slammed into you even harder, punishing now, wrecked with need.

“Good girl,” he growled, voice low.

Your hands braced against the wall, fingers splayed, trying to ground yourself—but Bucky gave you no reprieve.

His thrusts were brutal now, paced with a rhythm that shook through your entire body. Each snap of his hips pushed a cry from your lips, every inch of him stretching you open all over again, slick from your last two orgasms and still somehow burning for more.

You were soaked. Raw. Quivering.

And he was insatiable.

Behind you, Bucky was panting like a man possessed. His forehead dropped to your shoulder for a second, teeth grazing your sweat-slicked skin as his grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging in deep enough to bruise.

“Fucking hell,” he growled, voice wrecked. “I can feel you squeezing me—like you’re trying to pull me deeper.”

You moaned, unable to answer. You weren’t sure there were words anymore—just sensation.

Heat. Pressure. Him.

He slammed into you harder, and your knees buckled, but he caught you—one arm locking around your waist, dragging you up against his chest. Moaning, feeling your body pressed flushed against his. His other hand was still between your legs, fingers working your clit with ruthless precision, flicking and circling until your legs were trembling, your cries coming faster.

“Gonna come again,” he rasped in your ear. “I can feel it. You’re so close, baby. Give it to me.”

His metal hand gripped your throat—slightly tight, just enough to tilt your head, to control you—and he sank his teeth into the curve of your neck as he fucked you harder, faster.

You cried out, your body tipping toward the edge again with dizzying speed, your back arching at the intense pleasure.

“Say it,” he ordered through gritted teeth. “Say you want to come on my cock.”

“Please—Bucky—want it—fuck—I want it, I want it—”

“That’s it,” he hissed. “God, that’s it—gonna make you come so fucking hard—”

You clenched around him, your whole body going taut—and then snapped.

Your climax tore through you like fire, a scream ripping from your throat as your pussy spasmed around him, pulsing, slick, drenching him.

Bucky groaned like it broke him, thrusting deep one last time before he came with a roar—slamming into you to the hilt, cock twitching as he spilled inside, hot and thick, filling you to overflowing.

He held you tight, shuddering, mouth pressed to your shoulder as he rode it out—still pulsing, still deep inside you.

For a moment, everything was quiet—just your panting, the wet sounds of your bodies, and his heart hammering against your back.

Then he finally spoke—voice low, hoarse, almost reverent.

“…Still hate me, sweetheart?”

You let out a breathless, broken laugh against the wall.

“Only when you’re not fucking me like that.”

Bucky chuckled darkly, nuzzling your neck, still buried inside you. “Then I guess I’ll have to keep doing it.”

Bucky’s breathing was still ragged behind you, his broad chest rising and falling against your back. His arms stayed wrapped around your waist, firm but gentle now, as if afraid you’d slip away if he let go.

You both stayed like that for a long moment—pressed together, skin flushed and slick with sweat, the heavy sound of your breathing the only thing filling the silence.

Then, slowly, he eased out of you, hissing softly at the overstimulation. You whimpered, sensitive and sore and still trembling, and he caught you as your knees buckled, guiding you gently to the floor.

The moment your back hit the cold wall, you shivered.

“Shit,” Bucky muttered, voice thick and gravelly. “You okay?”

You looked up at him, lips parted, dazed. “I think so…”

He crouched in front of you, one knee bent, eyes scanning your face—not with lust now, but something softer. Something real. His pupils weren’t as blown out anymore. The sharp edge of heat in them was starting to fade.

And for the first time since all this started, you realized… the gas was wearing off.

You could see it in his body—the subtle way his muscles unclenched, the way his breathing evened, like his senses were slowly coming back under control.

“…Bucky,” you murmured, still catching your breath, “what was that stuff?”

He exhaled hard, dragging a hand back through his damp hair.

“Like I said earlier, there was a room. Down the hall. Some kind of overgrown greenhouse or lab, I don’t know.” His voice was quieter now, more grounded. “I barely stepped inside before I started sweating. My head got light, and then everything started to burn. My skin, my blood… my cock.”

You flushed, throat bobbing as your eyes flicked down between you.

He noticed. His jaw tightened.

“I didn’t know what was happening,” he added, guilt creeping into his tone. “Didn’t understand why I was reacting like that until I saw you again and I just—”

He broke off, shaking his head like he was angry at himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally. “I shouldn’t’ve touched you. Not like that. Not when I wasn’t thinking straight.”

But you reached out and curled your fingers around his vibranium wrist, grounding him.

“You didn’t force me,” you said softly. “I wanted it. All of it.”

His eyes met yours—sharp, guarded, like he was still waiting for the punchline.

“You sure?” he asked. Not a tease. Just a whisper of vulnerability cracking through the armor.

You gave a breathless laugh, nodding. “Yeah. Pretty sure the three orgasms confirm that.”

That pulled a small, crooked smirk from him—but it didn’t last. His gaze drifted back to where your bare thighs were still spread, slick and flushed, your pants still tangled around one ankle. You were raw, used, full of him.

And still… somehow… the tension wasn’t gone.

“You didn’t hate it,” he murmured, like he was testing the waters.

“No,” you admitted. “And… maybe I don’t hate you as much as I pretend to.”

That surprised him.

He tilted his head, lips parting like he had something to say—but instead, he leaned forward, slowly, giving you the chance to stop him.

You didn’t.

His lips brushed yours, soft this time. Nothing like the devouring heat from earlier. Just a quiet, aching thing. A kiss that said we’re not done—but maybe not just in a physical way.

You kissed him back, fingers curling into his jacket. And when he finally pulled away, his forehead leaned against yours, breath warm across your face.

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” he murmured, voice husky again, but this time with gentleness rather than hunger.

You nodded, legs still shaky. “Yeah. I… don’t think I can stand yet.”

That made him chuckle, low and rough.

“You won’t be walking straight for a while.”

You smacked his chest weakly, and he grinned. It was the first time you’d ever really seen him smile—not that tight, sarcastic twist, but something real.

And just like that… something had shifted.

The lines that used to keep you on opposite sides of every room were gone—burned away by sweat, heat, and the way his hands had held you like he was afraid of losing something he didn’t know he wanted.

As he helped you pull your clothes back on, slow and careful, your fingers brushed. You didn’t pull away.

Neither did he.

⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹

By the time the extraction team touched down, the gas was well out of Bucky’s system—but the aftermath lingered on both of you like a second skin.

He still walked close to you. His arm still brushed yours whenever the hallway narrowed. His jacket, slung loosely around your shoulders, smelled like him—warm leather and sweat and something darker, primal, something you’d felt grinding deep inside you less than an hour ago.

Neither of you had said much since.

Not because there wasn’t anything to say—but because the weight of everything that had happened still hummed like a live wire between you.

And when the door to the building finally slammed open and Sam’s voice came over the comms—dry, impatient, and absolutely oblivious—you nearly jumped.

“There you two are,” he said, stepping into view in full gear, eyes flicking from you to Bucky. “Took your sweet time, huh? We were about to call it and let you rot in there.”

Bucky didn’t flinch. He just grunted. “We managed.”

Sam looked at the both of you suspiciously.

Your hair was a mess. Your pants were definitely on inside out, despite your frantic fumbling earlier. Bucky’s shirt clung to him with dried sweat, and his belt was still hanging open under his tactical vest.

And when Sam’s eyes narrowed and slid down to the distinct bite mark blooming just beneath your collarbone, visible even beneath the edge of Bucky’s jacket—

He froze.

Blinked.

And looked back at Bucky. Slowly.

“…Did you fight each other?”

You opened your mouth, panic rising in your throat.

But Bucky—smug bastard—beat you to it.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said coolly, leading the way past Sam without missing a beat. “I won.”

Sam gawked after him. “You won what? An STD?!”

You groaned and followed quickly, cheeks flaming. “Shut up, Wilson.”

“You shut up!” Sam called after you. “I’m gonna have to Lysol the entire jet, aren’t I?!”

Bucky didn’t even blink as he climbed aboard.

You shot him a glare as you slid into the seat across from him, keeping your arms crossed even though his jacket still hung around your shoulders like some ridiculous trophy.

The second Sam stepped in behind you, eyeing the both of you like a disgruntled parent, you tried to school your expression into something neutral.

You failed.

Bucky smirked.

“So,” Sam said, dropping into the pilot’s chair with a sigh. “Either of you wanna tell me why your vitals were going crazy on the monitors for thirty minutes straight?”

“Must’ve been a glitch,” Bucky replied smoothly.

Sam turned, staring at him.

You were biting your lip. Hard.

“A glitch,” Sam repeated flatly.

Bucky shrugged, unbothered. “Must’ve been the plant gas. Messed with my sensors.”

“Oh, I bet it did,” Sam muttered, spinning back to the controls. “God, I’m too old for this.”

The Quinjet engines flared to life.

You glanced at Bucky. He was watching you from under his lashes, jaw tight, one corner of his mouth twitching upward like he was this close to smiling.

You leaned closer, voice just low enough that Sam wouldn’t hear.

“You’re really proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

Bucky’s smile turned wicked.

“You’re the one still wearing my jacket, sweetheart.”

You flushed—and hated how much it thrilled you.

As the jet lifted into the sky, the tension didn’t fade.

It simply shifted.

No longer the tension of enemies circling each other like knives waiting to clash—but the quieter, heavier kind. The kind that simmers under the surface, waiting to boil over again the second you're alone.

And something told you…

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

[cadencejames87]

That guy really has balls to look at her like that in front of Bucky, like what did he expect... Also, call her bluff, Bucky? Really?

Death Wish 17

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

You sit beside Bucky. He’s stoic. Patient in an ominous way. You don’t try to mimic him. You know you can’t. You just keep still and listen. He does too. 

“Something in the boats, boss. Someone undercutting us down in the southeast.” Gio explains. “That fisherman, he drove off when I tried to talk to him.” 

“Hm,” Bucky nods. “And you’ve been watching? How do you know there’s something coming in?” 

“Just the way he’s actin’.” 

“The way he’s acting,” Bucky clucks and taps his fingers on his jaw. “Not much of a reason to pull the alarm. Put some eyes on the dock. Come back next week.” 

“Yes, boss. I’ll put my boys down there.” 

“Good,” Bucky sits back, hanging his arm over the side of his chair.  

He reaches for you, taking your hand and bringing it onto the high armrest. He squeezes. You focus on your posture. You resist the urge to look around at all those eyes staring back. You know they’re watching you. They have since the moment you got here. 

“The flower shop on third,” another man steps up. You recognise him. He used to come see your dad; Alfie. He meets your gaze with a squint. “They didn’t pay me in full. Said they can’t make cut.” 

“How much is cut?” Bucky asks. 

“1500” 

“Fifteen?” Bucky scoffs. “That’s as much they’d pay the government for their license. Take half.” 

“Half?” 

“Jumped up little man,” Bucky sniffs. “I got capos not taking that much from business in north side. Half. You’re lucky I don’t ask for it all myself.” 

He snaps his fingers and dismisses Alfie with a flutter of fingers. The older man gives you a long look as he backs up. His lip twitches. 

“One more thing,” Bucky drawls and shifts. “When you look at my woman, you don’t do it like that.” 

Alfie flinches. “I ain’t--” 

“Don’t fucking lie to me. Now walk away.” 

Alfie grits his teeth and lowers his head. He retreats. The air in the room turns stagnant. You focus on not fidgeting. You don’t want to draw any more attention. 

And the dress. It cinches to tight in the middle, it shows too much of your chest, it hugs your figure a little too snugly. You are dressed up like something you aren't.

“I got a wedding to plan. I need you all to start carrying your weight. You got a problem, go to the underboss. I’m not taking council over florists and fishermen.” He tuts. “Oh and make sure you RSVP.” 

He stands and tugs you up with him. You rise and adjust the high arch of the heels. He draws you to him and kisses your forehead. 

“Come on, doll. Now that it’s top of mind, we need to figure out flowers.” He lets go of your hand and puts his hand on your lower back, ushering you out of the room without a glance sideways. 

As the door shuts behind you, you exhale slowly, quietly. He takes you down the hall and up the stairs, pointing you up first. As you climb, he hums. “Perfect view.” 

You stiffen but keep going. You walk past a door and he chuckles. You turn back as he opens it. 

“You forgot?” He wonders. “It doesn’t remind you of that first night?” 

You blanch as you near him. You look him in the eye. “I remember.” 

His eyes flick up and down. He waves you inside. You enter ahead of him. The door clicks shut behind him and he brushes his palm along your rear as he dips in behind you. 

He goes around the desk to the cabinet in the corner. He pops open the glass door and takes out a dark bottle. He pushes his fingers into two glasses and pinches them together. He spins and carries it all to the desk. He sets them down with a clink. 

Quietly, he pours. He peeks up at you. A lock of dark hair falls forward. His dark tie is knotted high and firm, his collar starched and perfect. He puts the bottle down. 

“You asked me to do it.” 

“You didn’t.” You blurt out and look away. You shake your head and blink. Your finger twitches. You feel the trigger, you smell the gun powder. 

“I gave you the power you wanted.” 

You bite your lip. This isn’t what you asked for. You asked for safety. For peace. For your sisters. 

He comes around the desk. You sense him. You smell the alcohol before he holds out the glass. You glance at it and hesitate. 

“I don’t drink.” You say. 

“You need it.” 

You take it and turn away. You put it back on his desk. You keep your back to him. 

“You did good,” he says. You can hear him slurp. “You sat and listened. You didn’t let that man intimidate you.” 

“Why would he? He’s not you.” 

Silence. He drinks again. He comes up next to you. 

“You scared of me?” 

“I know I’m not in charge.” You shrug. “I know how it goes. I’ll do what needs to be done. Whatever it is you need me to do.” 

He sighs. “I’m not like him, don’t treat me like I am.” 

Maybe not, but the situation isn’t so different... 

“I know,” you lie. “Last week, I was just his daughter. I only had to worry about my sisters. It’s... a lot.” 

“And I know you can handle it, doll,” he rubs your hip and sets his glass down. “Come here.” 

He turns you to him, cradling your cheek as he steps closer. He squeezes the soft curve of your hip and smirks. His nose brushes yours. 

“I chose you because I know you can. You know when it’s time to take out the trash.” He caresses your cheek. “And you got a hell of a poker face.” He leans in and kisses you. You can taste the smoky scotch on him. He draws back and gazes at you, purring. “I’m gonna call your bluff, one day.” 

[cadencejames87]

I would not be able to move at all, just lay there catatonic lol

Handle With Care 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your work blurs the lines between professional and personal.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You sit on the trembling bench, staring at the opposite wall of the plane. You keep your shoulders up, forearms on your thighs, hands limp. You’re focus on not letting the bubbling rise to the surface. You fucking hate flying. 

“Coming up soon,” Bucky warns from beside you. He’s bent forward, elbows on his legs, knees wide. Casually impatient. “Got your gear?” 

“What I need,” you pat the bag next to you. Brief said no set-up, only defusals. Simple enough. 

“Good. You travel light.” 

“Try to, when I have to,” your thumb taps and you stop it. 

“You afraid of heights?” He sits up as he looks at you. 

“Not the biggest fan.” 

The plan lurches and the light above the door to the cockpit flicks to orange. You sigh. 

“Is that why your heart’s going?” He wonders. 

You shrug. “Forgot about that...” 

“Forgot?” 

“You and your super ears. Super eyes. Super nose. Must be hell.” 

“Can be. I avoid crowds if I can,” he stands and checks the straps across his torso. “DZ coming up. Get your things.” 

“Sure.” You swallow down the nausea as the plane lifts one a jet stream. 

You push yourself up, staggering with the plane’s drift. You grab your bag and pull it over your shoulders. You secure the clasp across your chest. Bucky tugs the strap diagonal from one shoulder to his hip. He’s packed even less than you. You can hope for a short mission. 

Brief included the target and possible risks. Not much else. You’re annoyed with the lack of detail. 

“Alright,” Bucky beckons you over toward the door. “Once the light goes green, we got a three-minute window to jump.” 

“Jump?” You exclaim. “You can’t be serious? No we need to land--” 

“DZ. Drop Zone. There’s no place for this bird to go,” he says coolly and looks at the lights. The green one flicks on. Shit. 

“Well... shouldn’t I have a chute?” You ask. “Pretty important--” 

The door slides open and a gust of wind nearly bowls you over. Bucky grabs you, keeping you on your feet. He grins. 

“Don’t worry,” he hollers as the wind blusters around him, whipping free a few strands of hair from his ponytail. “I got you.” 

He jolts you closer and spins you. You stumble around and suddenly, his arms lock around you. He pulls you against his front and backs up. 

“Don’t squirm too much!” He launches himself backwards through the door and falls into the void. 

You screech in horror as he keeps your arms trapped at your sides. You’re paralysed as you free fall toward earth. You can’t hear but you can feel the rumble of his laughter. He’s enjoying this. You are making good with your existence. 

You close your eyes and clasp onto the loops above his pockets, just long his thigh. Does he not realise you’re not built for high impact? Oh, lord. You don’t have many to miss but your life was starting to even out. 

The collision knocks the air out of you, even with the cushion of Bucky beneath you. You gasp and let go of the fabric, digging your elbow into his side. He releases you as you cough and rub your chest. You roll onto your side. 

You finally inhale and your back and chest rack. You growl and push yourself up on your knees. Bucky lays prone on his back and chuckles. You grit your teeth and cock your fist. 

“Ah come on, it’ was fu--” 

The crack across his cheek makes him grunt. You recoil as your knuckles throb and you growl. “Jackass.” 

You sit back and rub your hand. You should’ve known he’s has a hard head. You huff and bend your knees, resting your arms on them. 

“Hell of a left hook you got,” he sits up, rubbing his face. 

“Don’t talk to me right now,” you roll forward, using your weight to stand. You check your watch. “We need to move.” 

“You mad at me?” He gets up. 

“You threw me out of a plane. Yes, I’m mad.” 

“I told you, I got you--” 

“No talking,” you slice your hand in the air and follow the coordinates on your map. “Safehouse is two miles.” 

You turn your back on him and set off into the brush. The ground is lumpy and the trees grow thicker ahead. He catches up to you without a noise, walking at your side. 

“Look, I’m sorry. A chute would draw attention--” 

You ignore him and keep going. He matches your pace. 

“If I didn’t know what I was doing, I wouldn’t do it,” he argues. “It was a controlled fall.” 

You shake your head and duck beneath a broken branch. He does the same. You wiggle your fingers. First he throws you from a plane, then he fucks up your hand. 

“Hey, I won’t do it again. Okay?” 

You shouldn’t have done it once! You hold in the retort, chewing on it. You walk on in silence. You can feel him looking at you. 

He snorts. You squint. You just want to get to the safehouse and figure out what’s next. 

He chuckles quietly and you huff. You shake your head. Stop looking at me. Sam is going to hear it all on this one. 

He nudges you with his elbow. You swing back at him and catch his upper arm. He laughs again. 

“What?! What do you want?” You stop and face him. 

“Nothing. You’re just funny when you’re mad.” 

You blink and grit your teeth. “Funny?” 

“Yeah,” he smirks. 

You glare at him. His dimples deepen. He tilts his head and your nostrils flare. 

“Well, you’re not funny,” you snip and veer away. 

You preferred Bucky when he was moping in his apartment. You never said you were going to be his fully time nanny. Especially not out in the middle of nowhere. 

[cadencejames87]

Bucky lit up 🥺💗

Down Home 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The world’s most famous heroes walk into a small town diner and change your life.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: Because of this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all to Jupiter and back. Take care. 💖

Bucky yawns as you take his plate. He rubs his eyes as Steve blinks long and hard. You look out at the dusty old road. Tumble Down’s a long way out from anywhere. 

“Y’all gonna drive all night?” You wonder aloud. 

Steve sniffs and Bucky grumbles. “Gonna have to,” the latter says. 

“There’s a motel ‘bout two hours down. Truckers stop that way to rest but the last one came through, he was scratching from the bed bugs.” You cluck. “Those men work hard, ya know, but they just don’t make nothing easy."

“Two hours?” Steve echoes with a nod. You put his plate on the other as you pull your focus back. 

“Won’t be far,” Bucky sounds unconvinced. “I’ll just close my eyes a little. Tell me if I swerve--” 

“Buck.” 

The man chortles. “You know I’m kidding.” 

You look at the plates and then them. You don’t know if your ma and pa will believe you when you tell them. Wouldn’t it be better to show them? 

“Well, ya know, there’s spare rooms at my place. If it’s not forward of me,” you smile. “Oh, gosh, it must be, huh?” You cradle the plates against your stomach. “But it’s a lot closer. Twenty minutes or so.” 

Steve scratches his jaw and Bucky combs his metal fingers through his hair. They share a look you can’t decipher. The Captain looks at you. 

“That wouldn’t be too much?” He asks. 

“I don’t think so. I can call ma and pa, let them know. They love company.” 

“Hm,” Steve tilts his head. “Don’t feel like you have to be so nice.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be? Y’all are so nice and you’re heroes. Least I can do is put the bill on the house and get you a good night’s rest,” you beam. 

“Now that you won’t do,” Bucky takes out his wallet. “Girl like you’s earned a big tip.” He slaps bills down on the table. “Buy yourself something pretty.” 

“Maybe just a bag of feed for Cindy Lou,” you chuckle, “thank you, sir.” 

“Bucky,” he looks at your full hands. He scoops up the bills and reaches to tuck them in your apron instead. “We’ll take the rooms. I need to lay down.” He leans back and rolls his shoulders. “Someone has to work on their aim.” 

“Or you need to work on your reflexes,” Steve scoffs. 

You chuckle and leave them to bicker. It’s cute. Like Mrs. and Mr. Owens. You swear they could argue about the colour of the sky. 

You put the dishes in the window and stand on your toes to see Darnell. He’s got a paper back bent as he reads the curling pages. He glances over. 

“I’ll get ‘em in a sec,” he assures. “Wanna finish this part.” 

“Sure thing,” you chirp. 

You turn and stop short. You spin again and head down to the tiered shelf. You slide the pie from the middle and put it to the side. You turn and take two of the scalloped plates from the stack. You cut two slices and carry them to the only occupied table. 

“The apple pie’s going to go stale if it doesn’t get ate,” you put the plates down. “Can ya help me out?” 

Steve’s check ticks as his lips curve. “Apple pie? Well, don’t get much more American than that.” 

“But nothing’s cheesier than the Cap,” Bucky snorts. He gets a sharp look from his lifelong friend. 

“Enjoy,” you chime and retreat. 

You rock on your soles patiently. You don’t have much left on your shift. Amy will be here soon for the night shift; the truckers tend to come by after midnight. 

“Mm, the cook make this?” Bucky asks. 

You drag yourself from your thoughts and pop your head up. “Um, no. I did. I bake ‘em at home. Owner lets me sell them here.” 

“As he should. It’s very good,” Steve praises. 

“Gee, really? It’s my granny’s recipe.” 

Steve hums in pleasure. “You know, think we’ll finish this and wait for you outside before anyone else shows up.” 

“Good idea,” Bucky gulps. “I don’t got that energy right now.” 

“Fair enough. I’ll let y’all be in peace,” you say. 

You go into the kitchen and swipe up the plates. Darnell looks over as the door swings shut. “Said I’d get to ‘em.” 

“It’s no worries. I don’t mind. Nothing else to do around here.” You bring them to the sink and place them inside. You crank on the faucet and scour the porcelain. 

All in all, it’s not been a bad day. But now that you think about the night, you’re nervous. Ma and Pa sure will be surprised, but what about after? They might not be so impressed that you offered them to stay. 

🥧

“Y’all just gotta follow me,” you stand by the open door of your pa’s truck. “I’ll drive slow.” 

“Think we can keep up,” Bucky says. 

You smile and turn back. You grab the door and the seat. “You need help?” Steve offers. 

“Nuh uh,” you lift your foot onto the metal step, “got it.” 

You haul yourself up and pull shut the door. You give a thumbs up through the window. The men watch you as the stand by their motorcycles. You must look a little silly to them. The few city folk you’ve met, seem to think the people around her are simple. Maybe you are. 

You back out and spin the wheel. You head down the gravel road, two hands on the large ridged wheel as you steer into the rising night The closer you get to home, the more restless you are. 

As you pull in, you see your pa on the front porch where he always in. In his rocking chair. You shift into park and kill the engine. You get out as the bikes rumble up behind you. You hope down, the keys jingle, purse bouncing on your hip. 

“Hey, pa, is ma inside?” 

“What’s that racket?” He growls, squinting past you as he leans to one side.  A headlight gleams back at him. 

“It’s uh... company?” You stop at the bottom of the steps, just within the yellow sheen of the porch light. The mosquitoes buzz past your ears and your swat them away. A moth’s shadow circles over you. “Some diners...” 

“We ain’t running no hotel,” he harrumphs as the roar behind you quiets. 

“I know, pa. It’ll be my responsibility. Just wanted to talk to ma--” Footsteps crunch closer behind you. 

“Sir. I wanted to thank you myself for your hospitality. Your daughter’s been very kind to me and my friend.” 

Steve steps up beside you. You glance over at him nervously then back to your father. He stops his chair from rocking and leans forward. He blinks. 

“Heavens, your ma’s right about my glasses. Best start wearin’ them,” your pa shakes his head. “I can’t be seein’ straight.” 

“Pa,” you breathe, “It’s him.” 

“Steve Rogers, sir,” the blonde climbs the stairs and offers his hand. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Captain,” your father stands and shakes his hand emphatically. “An honour, if I ever known one. My wife’s grandfather, he was a service man. My own granddaddy too. Over on the islands.” 

“It was a big effort, for everyone,” Steve says. 

“Sergeant,” your pa slips his hand free. Bucky steps up, much less bold than the other man. 

“Sir,” Bucky responds quietly. “Hope it’s not too much. Just for the night.” 

“Make yourselves at home,” your pa insists. “I’ll go get Yvette. She’ll be over the moon. She ain’t gonna believe me.” 

“I’ll get her,” you offer. 

“Okay, okay,” your pa stands marveling at the Cap. “That shield is shiny as it looks on the TV.” 

Steve reaches back to unstrap the shield and presents it. You flit inside just as your eye meets Bucky’s. He nods before he turns to the other men. 

The floorboards creak as you go inside. You put your purse on the narrow table against the wall. You can hear the TV in the kitchen scratching through the old speakers. 

Your ma’s in there, at the table with the small box TV and it’s crooked antenna. You recognise the voices of the old soap characters she adores. She likes the ones from the nineties, only complains about the new ones. 

“Hey, ma,” you greet her. 

“Where’s your pa? Still outside?” She doesn’t look away from the small screen. 

“Uh huh. He’s uh... chatting with our guests.” 

“Guests?” She sits up tall and peels her eyes away from the TV. “Who’s that then?” 

“Ah, er, it’s uh--” 

“Yvette, you best not have nothing on your dress. We got some fine gentleman here,” your pa stomps down the hallway. “Some heroes.” 

“Heroes?” Your ma stands and rubs her hips. “What’re you on about, Ger—Oh, my lord! Is it—It’s-- he’s so blond!” 

She fans herself and bounds toward Steve as he stops behind your father. “And he brought that other one, didn’t he?” She peeks behind him. “And you look mighty beat. You need some food and some showerin’ and some beds.” 

“Maybe the last two,” Steve says. “Your daughter fed us down at the diner.” 

“Good girl,” your ma praises. “Well, then, we’ll go get them beds made up and Ger can show you where to wash up. Ah gee, henny,” she calls you by her little nickname. “You didn’t say, did ya?” 

“I was trying,” you murmur. 

“Come on, I gotta air out the rooms.” She grabs you and takes you past the super soldiers. They seem bigger as you pass. 

Your ma drags you upstairs. She stops you at the linen closet and takes out a stack of bedding. She dumps it in your arms and snaps the door shut. You follow her to the guest room at the end of the hall. 

She opens it up and flicks on the light. It’s been a while since you used the space. Not since Great Aunt Dorothea came and got in that spat with your ma. 

“You’ll have to get the old ones of,” she dabs her forehead with the back of her hand. “I’ve been sweatin’ my wig off all day.” 

You chuckle and go to work. You unhook the corners and gather the old bed in a ball. You pull on the fresh sheets and a quilt. You fluff the pillows too. You open the windows, shaking out the curtains. 

“Have to do the other too,” she girds. 

“Yes, ma.” 

You go into the next room. She lingers at the doorway. You watch her trying to listen to what’s going on below. 

“They came down to the diner?” She wonders as she leans on the frame. 

“Yep. I was just as surprised. They just rode right up lookin’ for a side of bacon,” you cheep. “They’re very polite, ya know?” 

“Well, they’re the old-fashioned type, ain’t they? Respectable too. Handsome,” she feels along the collar of her old farm dress. 

“Ma,” you chide as you heave the old bedding toward her. 

“You can’t deny it, can ya, sweet girl? Two of ‘em, too. What’re they doin’ in Tumble Down?” 

“Doin’ what every else does. Pass through,” you shrug. 

She nods and her face falls. “Yeah, it’s always the same old ‘around here, isn’t it?” 

“Same old,” you agree as you gesture past her. She lets you into the hallway and you grab the other disposed bedding. 

“Doesn’t have to be, ya know? Them boys are single.” 

“Ma,” you guffaw. “Don’t be silly.” 

“Well, I think I’m a bit past all that. But you--” 

“Ma,” you repeat. 

“Oh, you’re always so picky. First, you won’t go out to the fair with Jacob, then you won’t let Leslie take you on a picnic--” 

“Jacob spat on me in grade school and Leslie only wanted to make Corrine jealous,” you huff as you carry the sheets down the hall. “I’m happy as I am, ma. It’s nice to get a bit of excitement, but I’m not dreamy-eyed. I know where I belong.” 

She tuts. “You’re a good girl, henny. Too good for yourself.”  

You go downstairs and turn down the hall. The pipes thrum as the shower runs. As you enter the kitchen, you see Bucky at the table by the small television. Your dad’s hovering by him, yapping about what he saw on the documentary channel. 

“And they went to Belgium. You could see the broken trees, some of em...” 

Bucky glances over as you near the laundry room door. He brightens up as he watches you. You dip your chin down. You want to apologise to him. Your dad’s not much of a talker most of the time but when he latches onto something, he sure can get carried away. 

Oh well, it’s one night. One night and they can go back to being heroes. And you can gossip to Corrine about how you met most famous men in the world. 

[cadencejames87]

Just shows up... I have a feeling he was following her too in the beginning. Possibly spotted her while shopping 🤔

Doomed to Repeat 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a painful divorce, your wary of men, that is until Bucky Barnes needles his way in. (older!reader)

Same universe as this.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

I know it's Steve week but this doesn't count. Shhhhhhh.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and you are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Your flat slips off your heel. You drag your foot to get it back on, the arch of your foot twinging as you flex the muscle. Don't stop. It's a jungle out here. New York slows down for no one, even the shoeless.

You dodge around the oncoming stampede, clinging to your modest assortment of groceries in the crinkling paper bag. It's a tight wire walk back to your apartment as you're crowded on all sides.

You're invisible among the city's rush, as you are in most rooms. You've aged past relevance. You don't mind so much, at times, the obscurity is your best ally.

You follow the flow of pedestrians across the fading white lines of the crosswalk. A taxi honks, a whistle goes up, and sirens echo somewhere down the block.

"Hey, lady!" The voice startles you. Are they talking to you. "You dropped this?"

You look down in a panic. You feel your purse on your hip. It can't be you.

You spin and a man's shoulder bounces off of yours. You stagger, struggling to keep your balance as the bag tears down the front. The man barrels past you. Just like he didn't see you, he didn't notice the speed bump of your existence.

You look down as several items fall onto the pavement around you. You get down to gather them up, watching helplessly as your loaf of sourdough is crushed under the feet of passerbys. Pigeons flock to devour the ruin.

"Ow!" The same man blusters.

You glance over your shoulder as you put the block of butter atop the load still in the bag. You see him hit his ass on the sidewalk as another man marches past him. You cower as you realises he's coming toward you.

He stoops to scoop up the small wheel of gouda wrapped in wax. He's agile and undeterred by the tides around him. He squats down in front of you and places the cheese in the bag. He surveys the damage to the paper.

"Some people got no manners," he mutters.

"You don't have to..." you protest as you stack the groceries carefully. "I can manage, sir."

You look up at his face and blink in recognition. You feel oddly intrusive, stalkerish. Most people would recognise him in the city. You know him from a couple books stacked on your second shelf.

You shake it off. "Ahem," you clear your throat. "Thanks, sir. I'll get it."

"Here," he slides the bag away from you and puts the open side against his chest. He lifts it easily. You rub your lower back as you straighten up. "Got it."

"Oh, no, you can't... it's nice but..."

"Don't mind. I got nowhere to be right now."

You stare at him, trying to contain your doubt. War hero, state representative, and avenger has nothing going on? You're more than certain Bucky Barnes is full of it.

"Really," he insists. "Point me in the right direction." He glances around. "Stay close. Don't wanna lose ya."

"Um, alright," you surrender. Don't trust strangers, you're well past that lesson, but he's not exactly that, is he?

You give him one last look. He wears a pair of dark aviators and he's dressed down in a denim jacket and dark slacks. Still, you see right through it, even with the cap over his hair.

You turn and continue forward. He's close as he walks with his shoulder just behind yours, the bag rubbing on your arm.

"I can tell you know who I am," he drawls. "Can I get a name?"

You nod and look ahead into the sea of people. You recite your name on habit alone.

"I gotta commend you on your choice in cheese. I like the brand, but I'm more partial to their havarti." He says.

"Oh, um... yeah... I'm supposed to cut back on dairy..." you murmur cluelessly. "Not that you would... you know, I don't think groceries are within your purview. You probably have more important things to deal with."

"Not right now," he repeats.

"Here," you point up the alley.

You turn and he follows. You reach into your purse, instinctively looking back as you search for your keys. You pass under the fire escape and stop at the door. You step up the creaky old stairs and shove the brass one in the slot. He lingers behind you.

"Think I can take it from here, Representative Barnes."

"Bucky, please. I'm off the clock."

You face him and reach for the bag. He makes no move to hand it over. You step down the stair between you. "I got it."

He stares at you, a dimple in his cheek.

"You've done your good deed and helped an old lady carry her bag," you assure him dryly. "You're free to go."

You wrap your arms around the bag. He lets go and you cradle it carefully to balance the contents. His gaze makes you sweat. Or maybe that's the hormones.

"Old? You're spry as a spring chicken," he chuckles.

"Uh huh," you lift a brow. "Well, you carry your age much better than me." You back up and awkwardly extend your hand from beneath the bag. You twist the key and push inside. You pause just past the door. You angle back. "Thanks again, Bucky."

"See ya around," he says your name. "You know, I think the big thing these days is those reusable bags. Sturdier."

"Thanks, I'll see what I can find," you nearly snort. "You should probably get back to the rest of your constituency."

"Gah, guess I gotta," he spins on his heel. "I did swear some oath or another."

He strides off down the alley, a casual slant in his shoulders. You watch him, almost amused, leaning back to keep an eye on him. You're envious. He's gotta be twice your age, technically, and he looks more than a decade younger. You're not so concerned with your looks but you wonder if maybe that serum of his might help with the menopause.

He stops at the end of the alley. He looks back and waves. You flinch, caught, and hide inside. You let the door shut behind you and harrumph at the staircase ahead of you. Your knees will remind you that his words were just flattery.

🌆

"This week, let's focus on the upcoming assignment. Reflect on the last few lectures when discussing the pre-war foundations for conflict. Remember, this isn't just about military force, this is social, economic, and cultural. Try to weave together the world when contextualizing your thesis."

You speak to the Zoom classroom split into a grid of faces. Your students look well past their limit and you have to admit, you're there. "And don't forget office hours and that my email is always open for questions." You smile. "Until next time. Have a great week everyone."

A litter of byes come as slowly the students trickle out. You miss the in-person format but everything is shifting, everyone is moving past you. You weren't always this stagnant. Once, you were a blooming flower. Now, you're wilted and content to sway with the breeze.

You exit the meeting room and log off. You make a few notes for next week's lecture then put your laptop to sleep. It's after five and you're tired but you can't keep finding excuses. That walking pad is going to get dusty and the doctor said exercise will help with the hormones. Most of his recommendations only add to your discomfort.

You go into your bedroom and change into some running shorts and a loose tee. The effort of lifting your arch tugs tightly. Your shoulder's still sore from the other day. That guy really knocked you around. You rub the tender muscle and sigh. 

You're not a sprinter but you do work up a sweat at a brisker pace of walking. You stretch as you look for a podcast to listen to. You enjoy the one about the tragic monarchs... always a nice companion to your own suffering.

Before you can hit play, a dull thumping gives you pause. You move closer to the door. Mr. Kryzcky opens his door with a grunt.

"Oh, hi, I was looking for..." the voice drawls your name. "Think I got the wrong one."

Another grunt from the old man next door and the slam of his door. A soft laugh sounds. You go to the door and keep the chain on. You think you remember that voice, from more than just your unlucky meeting.

You open up and peek out. Bucky glances over and turns to face you with a grin. "Ah, there you are."

"I'm here," you say skeptically.

"I didn't have your number so couldn't call ahead," he comes closer. He's in one of those nice suits you see him wear at his press conferences. His long hair is parted and combed back away from his face.

"Okay?" Your confusion inflects upwards.

"Right, uh, I guess maybe my clearance won't work everywhere," he chuckles. "I wanted to check in."

"Check in? Well, I'm just fine, Representative."

"Bucky," he corrects. "How's the shoulder?"

"Not as strong as yours," you nod to his left arm.

"Yeah, you're standing a bit..." he raises his hand and angles it. "You're favouring that side."

"I take advil," you shrug and wince. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting you."

"I didn't interrupt dinner, did I?"

"Uhhhh, nope. Just... not quite sure you can call it a workout but I was going to get my steps in," you say.

"Have you eaten?" He wonders.

You frown. You exhale as you shake your head. "I just got done class."

"Class? What are you taking?"

You snort. "I see why people like you."

"Some," he snickers. "Can I buy you dinner? I'm here and... starving."

Your eyes list over. You consider the offer. You're wary of it. Not quite sure why he'd come back. Did you give off that vibe? That you're desperate for company? You get lonely since your husband left but you've adapted.

"I don't like eating alone and if I don't eat in a car, I'm eating in an empty condo," he snorts. "So... have a little pity for an old war vet?"

"Playing on those heartstrings. You about to ask for a campaign donation?"

He snickers. "Maybe next time."

"Right..." you slowly shut the door and slide back the chain. Before you can open it again, your chest stirs. Your place is small, a bit cluttered, but not dingy or dirty. Still, it's been a while since you had company. Well, you never did here.

You open up and step back. Bucky enters as he smooths his hair. You shut the door softly. He bends to unlace his leather shoes.

"You don't have other friends? Like Cap?"

"Sam? Nah, he's got a girl." Bucky slips his foot out. "And he's always cranky when he gets back in town. You know, he really puts up a front for the cameras."

He takes his other shoe off as you look down. You hide one leg behind the other. The shorts are meant for the privacy of your home.

"I'll get changed." You sidle away.

"Don't gotta dress up for me. You know, if you wanna do your workout, I'll just muddle around," he stands up and slips off his jacket.

"Um, no it's fine. Later." You retreat quickly to the bedroom.

You pull on a pair of loose pants over the shorts. Good enough. As you emerge, you find Bucky at the large antique bookshelf against the far wall. His back is to you as his head is tilted. You cautiously cross to him.

"Where'd you get this stuff?"

You near him and look over the disarmed pistols; a luger, an enfield, and a colt. Below, there are a few grenades and some empty shells. Your collection is small but a point of pride.

"Around." You say.

"A collector?"

"Suppose some would say a historian but I just teach it."

"Ah, class," he points his finger. "Right."

"I guess seeing this stuff like this must be a little... weird for you."

"Mm, not really. Need more room on that shelf, I won't fit." He taps it and laughs. "So, dinner? In the mood for anything?"

"Didn't think about it." You slowly inch away.

"Pizza?" He suggests.

"Can't go wrong." You agree. "Let me find my wallet."

"My treat," he insists and peers around. "Just you then?"

"Um, yep." You cover your barren left hand. "More room for books."

"Makes sense," he clucks and pulls out his phone. "Pepperoni?"

"Whatever you like." You reply. You won't mention that it gives you heartburn. He offered to pay after all.

"I'm more interested in what you like, so... you a veggie girl?"

"Girl? I don't think anyone's called me that in a while," you scoff. "Cheese is fine with me. I'm easy like that."

"Music to my ears," he taps the phone. "Spend all day trying to please everyone..." He turns as the line picks up. "Hey, could I get a large double cheese..."

You watch him for a moment. It's not just who he is. You just never thought about having a man here. The thought of just speaking to one gives you anxiety since the divorce. It feels like an intrusion but not just on his part. You feel like you've gotten in his way.

[cadencejames87]

🤭 amazing actors these two 💗💗

A little longer

HI MY BEAUTIFUL 🐚ANON!! I adore this so much, I adore YOU so much, as always, your requests are everything!! 

Warnings: So so much fluffy fluff, angst if you really squint till your eyes go cross-eyed and blurry

-

“It’s been decades. Not even a couple years. Almost a century. You probably shoot dust. Or whatever your bionic ass reproduces with”

Bucky contemplated throwing his half finished milkshake at Sam’s head while they both scarfed down burgers from a late night diner after a taxing mission. Sam was pestering Bucky yet again about his nonexistent social and lack of a love life, a topic he seemed to get high off of. 

Keep reading

[cadencejames87]

Forever, Bucky 💗

Sanctuary

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: The shower is a sanctuary, and Bucky can't resist joining you.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Established relationship, implied smut, tenderness and feels, thoughts of marriage and kids, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: A nonnie inspired me. I'm picturing this before Bucky gets married, but you can view it however you'd like. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You stood under the spray of the water, not bothering to lift your hands to wash yourself just yet. It was just the right temperature with the perfect amount of steam to surround you without feeling like you’d choke on it. You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, wishing that time could stand still. Showers were a necessity as well as an enjoyment and it felt wrong that time had to continue when you wanted a moment of peace.

Your temporary sanctuary was interrupted by a familiar presence at your back. No, not interrupted. If anything, your sanctuary was more alive. “Sorry if I scared you,” Bucky whispered, slipping his arms around your waist.

“You didn’t,” you whispered back, sinking into him. “Never have, never will.”

“That’s good to know.”

Every chapter of your life since you met Bucky had him written in it. He had been a beautiful stranger who exuded danger and comfort, a heady and contrasting combination. He became a wonderful friend, opening up and trusting you with his secrets and vice versa. It wasn’t long before he became your boyfriend and allowed you to love each other the way you both deserved. He would be your husband one day, and the father of your children if you went down that path.

“Sorry though,” he said, his fingers barely skimming you, but making you shiver just the same. “I should’ve asked before joining you.” 

You smiled, noticing that he didn’t sound apologetic in the least. “You made a mess on your shirt again, didn’t you?”

“Sure did,” he replied. Your man had stained more white shirts than you thought possible. He joked that it was one of the reasons he usually stuck with black. At least he was decent with laundry. “Want me to go?”

You put a hand over his to stop him from letting you go. “Don’t you dare,” you warned, which earned you a warm chuckle in response. You hadn’t initially asked him to join you because you were impatient and wanted to feel the cascading water on your skin.

Now you wanted to feel him all over you.

“Fine, I’ll stay,” he teased.

“Smart man,” you teased back.

Bucky was a man who appreciated showers just like you. When he still accepted missions, he would take the opportunity to self-reflect in a peaceful environment, especially if the mission was a long or tough one. The water helped his muscles relax and reduced his stress. It gave him a sense of well-being. The mood he was in when he joined you often determined whether he would be loving and tender or rough and intense.

You welcomed him either way.

“Feels nice,” he sighed, his breath dancing over your skin before he softly kissed your neck.

“Me or the water?” you sighed.

“Both,” he said, kissing directly over your racing pulse.

As your mouth parted and your head fell back further, a shallow breath escaped. His hands and lips enticed you, igniting a slow spreading fire in your veins. You were the match for each other’s flames and the heat was going to consume you both. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, his hands tracing along your skin like an unspoken promise. “You take my breath away.”

Your heart pounded and you turned your head with a soft smile. The angle was just enough to catch the blue of his eyes and the drops of water dripping from his long hair. He was so beautiful. “You take my breath away, too.”

“Yeah?” His smile didn't just rob you of your breath, it snuffed out all the noise in your mind until all you focused on was him. 

“Yeah,” you smiled back. 

When his lips touched yours, the slow spreading fire erupted into an inferno. His hand slowly slid down your stomach, the other moving up to tease your breasts. “You're so responsive,” he whispered, his thumb grazing a nipple. 

Your breath hitched when the hand moving south dipped between your thighs, a tremor running through your body when he gently moved a finger along your slit. The hand cupping your breast pulled you closer, drawing another gasp when he slowly rolled his hips to tease you when his hard cock brushed against your ass. You wanted him to tear you apart.

“And so wet,” he rumbled, suddenly turning you so that your back was against the wall. His hungry gaze had you choking on your next breath when he brought his hand back to your pussy, slowly rubbing it like he had nowhere else to be. Your essence coated his thick fingers, and he hadn’t pushed them inside you yet.

“Please,” you gasped, lost in his touch and wanting more. 

But Bucky didn't rush. He merely moaned when he leaned in and kissed your lips, tenderly lavishing you and forcing you to be patient. While your hands dug into his arms to hold on for dear life, he touched you as if it were an honor, cherishing every part of you. He was an artist who molded your body like it was his own creation, a masterpiece for him and him alone. The pleasure building within you was overwhelming, the kind that left you trembling and on the verge of breaking to pieces. The cracks filled with parts of him, piecing you back together in a way that was still you and yet forever changed.

“Can we just stay like this?” he murmured, as if he wasn’t setting you ablaze when his thumb circled your clit.

“Yes,” you whispered, wrapping a leg around him. If that was what Bucky wanted, you’d give it to him.

Just like when he asked for your heart.

His tongue traced a water droplet down the columb of your neck before he gently bit down. “Say my name,” he whispered, moving his hand away to replace it with his cock. 

“Bucky,” you breathed, your back arching when he began to push into you. You’d chant it, scream it, let the whole world hear it. Everyone would know who you belonged to and who you chose to be by your side. 

His warm body pressed against yours and your heart squeezed in your chest when he whispered, “I love you.”

You breathed him in, your eyes shining with unexpected tears. “I love you, too.”

He didn’t thrust yet, even when you tightened around him. “Forever mine?” He phrased it as a question, but you were his from the start. 

This man had burrowed so deep into your heart and soul that you would never be able to carve him out. You didn't want to. If you ever dared to put a wall up, he’d either crash through it or bring it down brick by brick, whatever you needed to get back to him. And you would do the same for him, burning the world if you had to if it meant you’d be together.

Moving a hand to his chest to feel his racing heart, you whispered, “Forever yours.”

You loved being his, loved that he was yours, and you would cry his name to the heavens above before the shower was over. 

And under the water and steam, you’d stay wrapped up in each other and enjoy your sanctuary together.

I want this! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[cadencejames87]

🥺💗💗

Imagine dreaming of going back to your baby boys after days away on a mission. You're so over it, not even really paying close attention to who your fighting anymore, your mind fully focused on getting home. Everyone eventually piled into the jet, utterly exhausted and absolutely ready to get back to the compound.

"I need a nap" Sam groaned, throwing aside his gear and cracking his back while you hummed in agreement, your bloodied knives joining the pile.

"I want to get back to my baby boys"

"Baby boys, you have one son, what you have kids we don't know about?" Tony snorted the others snickered with equal confusion.

"Bucky's a baby" You shrugged as if it was obvious. You had your little Jamie and one baby Bucky. Two baby boys. What was so hard about that.

"I'm sorry, that 6 ft, metal arm, could kill me with his finger tips is a baby to you-

"Baby. Boys" You growled instantly shutting up any other comebacks, scrolling through your phone, smiling at your lock screen. The picture was taken when Jamie was about 4 months old, his gummy smile matching his daddy's toothy grin, both of them giving you puppy eyes to forgive whatever mischief they'd gotten up to that day.

As soon as the Jet touches the ground, you're ready to hop out and get to your babies. It's afternoon and you know they both get very grumpy and sleepy around this time so it would be easy to find them.

"My bubbas" You cooed finding Jamie curled up on his daddy's chest, all wrapped up protectively in his arms, suckling on Bucky's dogtags. Bucky was splayed out on the couch with dancing fruit still playing on the TV, softly snoring with a fluffy blanket half thrown over him. Your son and his father shared the same pink pouty lips when they slept, with the same soft snores. Their lashes danced against their cheeks, neither stirring at your touch when you play with their hair.

"I missed you" You whisper, placing a gentle kiss on each of their foreheads.

Imagine the rest of the team catch a glimpse of a sleepy Bucky with his son curled up with him and the sight just makes sense.

Two baby boys.

[cadencejames87]

Definitely more than one. However many he wants 🤭

Make It or Break It

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Pregnant!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky is determined to not let the kitchen sink defeat him.

Word Count: Over 2k

Warnings: Established relationship, pregnancy, swearing, implied smut, fluff, feels, domestic life, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Another new AU? Why not? Inspired by a wonderful nonnie. And thanks @targaryenvampireslayer for letting me discuss this. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was a peaceful day for Bucky. Well, it was supposed to be a peaceful day. He should’ve been snuggled up with you on the couch, reading a book or watching a movie. He could’ve taken a ride on his bike, or gone to that bakery you love to surprise you with something sweet. Instead of doing any of those things, he was stuck under the kitchen sink that suddenly decided to stop running hot water.  

Heaving a heavy sigh, he mentally reviewed the list of things he had checked: the shut-off valve, a possible leaking hot water line, and the aerator for blockages. No such luck. He hoped it wasn’t a water heater issue. That was the last thing you needed to deal with.  

He grunted and reached for the wrench, not understanding what the problem was. He was handy, and had fixed everything around the house. So far he patched holes in drywall, replaced windows, repaired the roof, and remodeled the kitchen, to name a few. Sam could vouch for his skills since he fixed things on the boat. Surely he could repair this.  

Or it might be the thing to finally defeat him.

“Fuck that,” he muttered, gripping the wrench so tight he nearly bent it.

The former brainwashed assassin had faced worse: superpowered enemies, a world war, experimentation, losing a limb, brainwashing, torture, PTSD, and more. For Christ's sake, he was dusted by Thanos. He refused to let a kitchen sink defeat him, especially since he had promised you he'd fix it, and he always kept his promises to you.

Bucky stared down the pipe with a withering death stare. Why the fuck wasn’t the hot water running? “I’m not going to let you break me, you piece of shit.”

“Bucky?”

As he crawled out from under the sink, his gaze softened at the sight of you. Your bare feet gently padded across the floor as you moved toward him, a tender smile on your face and a hand on your belly. He hadn’t grasped what pregnancy glow was until you became pregnant with his child. It was like a soft ray of sunlight that glowed through you and touched everything within its reach. It was beautiful, just like you.

Sunshine to his moonbeam.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he rasped, still in awe of your beauty.

You ducked your head and smiled to yourself, something you had done from the first time he called you that term of endearment. “Sink still giving you trouble?” you asked, keeping your tone light since you knew it was a sore subject. With a clench of his jaw, he nodded. “Maybe we should-”

He cut you off with a point of his finger and saw you struggling not to smile. “Do not suggest a plumber.”

He felt his resolve begin to crack when you batted your eyes. He couldn't resist that look, which always got you what you wanted, but he couldn’t bend on this. “We don't have to call a plumber, but it might not be a bad idea to have someone take a look.” Bucky’s lip curled in a snarl, but you just smiled. “I don't mind.”

“I mind because I said I can fix this and I will. I promised you that,” he argued.

It was irrational for him to feel jealous at the thought of someone else fixing the sink, but he didn’t want you depending on someone else to fix stuff around the home you made together. If he couldn't take care of your home, it meant he couldn't take care of you, which he would always do. Just as you took care of him, being partners meant you relied on each other.

Additionally, the idea of another man checking you out, which he knew would happen because you were stunning, both infuriated him and filled him with pride, as he didn't want anyone else to admire your beauty, but was happy to call you his own.

You shook your head after a moment, as if you read his mind. “Okay, He-Man. We don’t have to call anyone.”

“Thank you.” He smiled, but then sat up abruptly, his heart racing in alarm as he was about to go back under the sink. “Wait, why aren't you lying down?”

Fatigue hit you out of nowhere earlier, and you went to rest, which he felt a pang of guilt for. It was a common symptom in pregnancies, but he couldn’t help but wonder if any of the serum would pass on to his kids or what it would do to your body. But you didn’t complain, didn’t show any signs of worry. He may be a super soldier, but you were the one with the strength.

“I’m fine,” you assured him before a sheepish smile crossed your face. “Except I'm a little hungry.”

He chuckled and sat up to wipe his hands, relieved that there was nothing wrong. He couldn’t help feeling protective. “You or the baby, sweetheart?” 

Rubbing a hand over your stomach, you giggled. The sound wrapped around him like a warm hug and urged him to exhale his frustration. “I think we’re both hungry. Something sweet and salty.”

He crawled on his hands and knees, making you giggle again, until he reached you and sat back on his heels. Pulling you close by your hips, he pressed a gentle kiss to your stomach and smiled. “Hey, sprout,” he whispered. 

A blossoming life was growing within you like a sprout.

“Sprout loves your voice,” you whispered, running a hand through his hair as he closed his eyes.

Bucky hoped so. He read books to your belly and sometimes talked when you had fallen asleep, telling stories of his past and how excited and nervous he was for the future. He also talked about how amazing you were, how he was lucky to have you as a wife and how lucky they’d be to have you as a mother.

Despite everything life had thrown at him, he got a family, a dream come true he had tried not to hope for.

“Well, I’m glad our little sprout hasn’t heard me swearing today,” he joked, kissing your stomach again. “That kitchen sink is trying to get the better of me, but I won’t let it.”

“Your father is a stubborn man,” you smiled, clutching Bucky’s head to you as he rested it on your belly.

“And your mother is a stubborn woman, don’t let her fool you. She also suggested calling a plumber, which I’m against,” he said, keeping a hand beside his head. “Give me a kick if you think I can fix it myself.”

“Bucky, we-”

Both of you gasped when your baby kicked where Bucky’s palm rested. He stared up at you with wide and happy eyes, his heart swelling in his chest. “D… Did you feel that?” he whispered.

“I did,” you smiled, your eyes shining with unshed tears. Your baby kicked, and it was one of the most incredible things he had ever felt. 

He let out a slow breath. For years, he was forced to fight. The war, HYDRA, and everything that followed. No one ever really asked what he wanted. At the end of the day, it all came down to this: building a home with a loving family.

As he knelt there, you smiled down at him, feeling your baby move, and he realized he'd do it all over again for this moment. 

“Help me get a snack, and then you can finish fixing the sink,” you suggested.

“And no plumber?” he smiled, more determined to keep his promise to you, since your baby believed he could do it.

“No plumber,” you promised with a sly smile. “Unless you want to pretend to be a plumber and help me clear out my pipes.”

His nose crinkled when he laughed. “Earmuffs, sprout. You don’t need to hear those things your Mama is saying.”

“Me?!” He chuckled when your voice went up an octave. “What about all the dirty things you say? Like this morning when I woke up to you doing that thing with your tongue and-”

Bucky suddenly stood up and silenced you with a deep, sensual kiss that would send your hormones into overdrive. As he pulled away from your lips, he was met with your shuddering breath, and he trailed soft kisses along your face. “Now, sweetheart, we both know you seduced me in your sleep, and I couldn’t resist having a taste.”

How could he ever resist you?

“I seduced you in my sleep, huh?” you asked with love shining in your eyes. His eyes reflected the same. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered, giving your ass a gentle pat and smirking when you gasped. “Now sit tight while I get us a snack and finish fixing the sink. You said something sweet and salty, right?”

“Right,” you nodded.

“Peanut butter pretzels?” he suggested, hoping he was right. He’d hate to see your face fall if he guessed the craving incorrectly.

When your face lit up, he breathed a sigh of relief, especially since he had just stocked up. “Yes, please.” Guiding you to the island stool, he felt your eyes on him as he moved around the kitchen. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said, setting a filled up bowl in front of you. He didn’t care if it was the middle of the night. If you were hungry, he would get you something or go out to find what you wanted.

“No, I mean, thank you for… everything.” He stopped when your eyes welled up, his heart aching at the sight. “God, these hormones,” you teased, wiping away tears as they spilled over.

“Hey,” he whispered, turning you on the stool, and gently framed your face to wipe away the remaining tears. Your hormones made you cry at the drop of a hat, and he was thankful that you allowed him to comfort you whenever that happened. “I should be thanking you.”

Bucky had found love and a family thanks to you, which filled his heart to the point of overflowing. He had purpose, and he was still a hero. He had a life he wanted, one worth fighting for. To him, it meant everything and more.

“You do thank me. Every single day,” you reminded him, bringing your hand up to trace his wedding band. 

“Does that mean I get a reward after I fix the sink?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows before you smacked his arm. “Worth a shot.”

“Tell you what,” you smirked, picking up one of the peanut butter pretzels. “If you get the sink fixed before I finish this bowl, I’ll reward you.”

When you popped the treat into your mouth with a hum and licked your lips, he bit back a groan. “And if I don’t?” he asked, determined not to lose. 

You shrugged and inspected the next piece. “Then you don’t get a taste of me for a whole week.”

He gawked at you. Withholding that delicious nectar between your thighs from him for a whole week? That was cruel and unusual punishment.

“Listen. I know you can fix it and our baby knows you can fix it, too,” you said, nodding to the sink. “So get to work because I’m hungry.”

He kissed you for luck, tasting the sweet and salty snack on your lips. “You’re on, sweetheart,” he said, winking and rushing back to the sink as you watched. 

“Domesticity is really sexy on you.”

He winked again. “Don’t I know it.”

It turned out that your belief in him, along with your baby’s and the promise of a reward, provided the exact motivation he needed to fix the sink. Just as he had kept his promise to you, you kept yours and rewarded him right there in the kitchen. After carrying you back to the couch, ignoring your protests about your weight, he felt lucky once again to have such an incredible wife and mother of his child. 

And if he was really lucky, you two would have more than one.

What other domestic things do we want to see Bucky get up to? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[cadencejames87]

Sweet little Alpine totally saw him enter the store and followed his scent back to the car to wait for him. 💗

A Kindred Spirit

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky meets a kindred spirit while he's grocery shopping.

Word Count: Over 2.2k

Warnings: Alpine the cat (is that a warning?), established relationship, humor, sweetness, fluff, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Tower Shenanigans. @buckybarnesfic, this is for you! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was Bucky’s turn to go grocery shopping, which he enjoyed and loathed. It was nice being able to pick out his own food, but he had to bite back a retort every time someone left their cart in the middle of the aisle or took a little too long when they stood in front of a shelf. He should’ve asked you to join him, but he was already out running another errand and didn’t want to bother you. If you were there with him, you would’ve giggled when he grumbled at the list. You would have also agreed with him when he complained about the high cost of food, wondering why everything was so expensive. It was insane.

Walking through the store, he kept an ear open while trying not to draw attention to himself. It was an old habit from when he was on the run. He willed his shoulders to react, but instead, he glared up at the fluorescent light, his hand twitching with the desire to hold yours. He enjoyed holding your hand, which grounded him, and loved how your heart skipped a beat whenever he kissed it.

The sooner he finished shopping, the sooner he’d get back to the tower and you.

“Why are there so many PopTarts on this list?” he muttered as he went to the cereal aisle and put them in the cart. To be fair, he hadn’t realized there were so many flavors, and he knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he didn’t get the right ones.

He snorted when he saw that deodorant was next on the list, immediately clocking John’s handwriting. “That’s not food, so I’m not getting it.” Yeah, it was petty of him, since he could technically buy non-edible products at the grocery store. Maybe he was still annoyed by John's comment about your ass. You had a stunning ass, capable of leaving people in awe. That didn't mean he wanted the junior varsity Captain America to ogle it.

While Bucky had a tendency to get John the generic brand of foods, he did take dietary needs and favorite foods seriously. There was a particular brand of hot sauce that Yelena preferred, and he made sure to get the largest bottle possible. He made sure to get different types of fries as well, as there was an ongoing debate about whether regular, crinkle, or curly cut fries were the best. John almost flipped the table, but the argument died down when Bucky said he’d always share his fries with you. Ava said that was love.

She was right.

The thought of you softened his demeanor, and it softened even further when he saw your handwriting. “Chocolate, please, and thank you. You’re the best!” He traced the letters with his fingers and smiled. If he had the money, he’d buy you an entire chocolate shop. Because he didn't, he made sure to grab more than enough, anticipating that Alexei might try to steal some.

Thinking it over, he grabbed one more bar. “Just in case,” he whispered.

He grabbed some flowers for you, too, because you deserved them.

As he checked out, he balanced the reusable bags Bob insisted on using and tried not to sneer at the total. It wasn’t the worst shopping trip. He finished up a lot quicker than he expected. Maybe the two of you could go for a ride on his bike once everything was unpacked.

He managed to take your keys out of his pocket without dropping any of the bags, smiling again. Using your car was easier for shopping trips and he liked that it smelled like you. He was also one of the only people you trusted to drive your vehicle, which he prided himself on.

What he did not expect to see when he got to your car was a white ball of fur curled up on the hood. “What the hell?” he muttered.

His eyes flickered around the parking lot, and he listened for anyone calling out for a cat. The cat had no collar, and he had no clue if it had a name, but that didn’t mean it didn’t belong to someone. He liked to think someone would be in distress if their pet was missing, but he didn't hear or see anyone come out to claim it. It didn’t move either when he put the bags in the trunk and placed the flowers in the passenger seat.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

Putting his hands on his hips, he stared at the animal until it lifted its head. A pair of crystal blue eyes stared back at him, unafraid and not at all bothered. He had to smile because it strangely reminded him of you, unwavering and always willing to look right at him. “Hey there,” he said, tentatively holding a hand out. He didn’t want to spook the cat. “You lost? You're not hurt, are you?”

The cat’s fur was surprisingly pristine, but that didn't mean it wasn't in pain or sick. After sniffing Bucky’s hand, it meowed and bumped its head against his hand, making his heart melt. The fur was so soft, and he swore he heard a purr. It was adorable.

“Yeah, you're cute, but here’s the thing,” he said, shaking his head at himself since he was talking to a cat. “I can’t drive with you on the hood, so…”

As if the cat understood him, it stood up and stretched. He panicked for a moment when he thought it would scratch the paint, but there wasn’t a single mark from the claws. And instead of jumping onto the street like he expected, the cat silently walked right to him and stared into his eyes again.

An agile and stealthy little thing.

“...What?” he asked as they stared at each other down.

With a gentle meow, the white ball of fur placed its front paws on his chest and crawled into his arms. He stood perfectly still, wondering what he looked like at that moment; an imposing man in a leather jacket holding a bright white ball of fluff. It had to be a sight.

“Since you don't have a collar and I don't see anyone searching for you, I can take you to a shelter,” he suggested. The second the words left his mouth he knew it wasn't happening, and there was another meow, softer and sadder that had his walls crumbling.

“Listen, you really are cute, but I can’t just take you home.” He stopped with a huff. “I’ve never had a cat before. I wouldn't know what to do with you.”

The response was to further burrow itself in his arms. 

“I have crazy roommates,” he continued. The team was in a good place, but it didn't take away that they were an entire range of crazy. How could he throw a cat into the mix? “And what would my girl say?”

He just knew the idea of a pet would thrill you, especially since the cat was so cute. Though he couldn't just spring that on you, could he? And could he spring that on the team? It was their home, too. 

But the cat didn’t budge, content being in Bucky’s arms. He found that he was content, too. Had he become a cat person in a matter of seconds?

Just like when he met you, he was fucked. 

“Okay, here’s the thing,” he said, balancing the light creature in one arm as he took his phone out to call you. “I have to clear this with my girl, and when she approves because she will, we need to make sure you aren’t chipped or anything, okay?”

Looking at the feline, he had a feeling there was no chip, that there was no home or a family. He wondered if there was a reason she chose to lay on the car he drove today. Was it looking for its own family? A place to fit in? Wasn’t that what everyone wanted?

He could give it that.

“Is everything okay?” He could hear you moving around, likely heading to the door. “Do you need me to meet you?” 

“Hey.” He let out a happy sigh at the sound of your voice. “You still at the store?”

“Sort of,” he replied, chuckling as the feline curled up more. He wasn’t even sure if it was a girl or a boy. “That’s actually why I’m calling.”

“I’m good, thanks,” he promised, touched that you were ready to go to him. “Have I mentioned you're the best?”

Nothing like buttering up his girl before mentioning the cat. 

“You are the best. I wrote it on the list,” you said. He could hear you smiling. “But why are you trying to butter me up?”

Of course, you knew what he was up to. “Because we may need to make another shopping trip for some cat stuff,” he replied, holding his breath.

You paused on the other end. “Cat stuff? Why would we need to buy cat stuff?” you asked, gasping. “Bucky, did you get a cat?!”

He breathed out. At least you didn't sound upset. “Well. Um, hang on.” He pulled up the camera and snapped the best photo he could. After sending it to you, he didn't put his phone back up to his ear right away, knowing you were about to shriek. You were usually considerate with his enhanced hearing, but this was a very cute cat.

“Oh, my GOD!” The cat tilted its head when your voice rang out through the speaker, but didn't seem unphased otherwise. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

“It’s okay. You-”

“But that is the cutest fucking cat I’ve ever seen in my life,” you continued, making him chuckle. “Where did you find her?! Did you adopt her?!”

He chuckled again at your enthusiasm. “Before we do any of that, we need to make sure she isn’t chipped,” he said, trying not to feel guilty for not doing that before calling and getting your hopes up. And what about her shots? Were those up to date?

Bucky held her closer. “I found her on the hood of the car when I came out of the store, and why do you assume it’s a girl?” 

“That beauty is a girl. I just know,” you said with complete confidence. “Okay, we need a collar, bowls, food, a litter box, a scratching post… Ooh, a little helmet so she can go on rides with you!” That did sound adorable. “Hang on. I need to make a list.” 

“If she has an owner, we’ll fight them,” you said like it was no big deal. 

Mischievous blue eyes gazed up at Bucky, and he laughed all over again. “That’s my girl,” he fondly said. “And I think she heard you and agrees.”

“So, assuming all is well, we're keeping her?” you asked, trying to sound casual but he heard your hopefulness.

Bucky's heart picked up when you said “we” because it was a reminder that he had someone by his side. “Yeah, I think we are.”

“Yes! It’s about time we got a pet,” you said, careful to not shout this time. “And cats choose their people. You know that right?”

“You think so?” he asked. 

“I know so. She was sitting on the hood of my car in a parking lot, and I think she wanted you to find her. And judging from the photo you sent, she looks right at home curled up against you,” you said. He wondered if that would've been the case had he been on his bike. Would the outcome be the same? “I’ll bet you two are kindred spirits.”

“Just like us,” he said. Pieces that just fit together. 

Your happy sigh made him smile. “Just like us,” you agreed. 

“Let me bring her by so I can drop off the food, and then we’ll take care of everything.” 

“Ten bucks says she hisses at John and adores Bob,” you teased. You were probably right. “I can’t wait to see you!” 

“I can't wait either,” he said, glancing down when he heard the soft meow. 

“I was clearly talking to her when I said I can’t wait to see you.” You giggled when Bucky growled. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Drive safe.”

“I will.” He exhaled once you hung up. “Well, that went well.” He helped the cat into the car and placed her next to the flowers. “You’ll love my girl. She’s the best.”

The beautiful feline meowed and curled up on the seat. He realized he’d have to come up with a name for her. Something special for such a beautiful cat, something that fits well. He had a feeling that the right name would come to him by the end of the day, or that you would help him if he got stuck.

“I think you’ll like the gang, too. They’re…” Bucky tapped a finger on the steering wheel. “They’re something.”

The team had been lost in many ways before becoming their own crazy sort of family.

Before he could stop himself, he said, “I know what it's like to be lost, but I’ll take care of you from now on, okay?” She lifted her head and stared with knowing eyes before he pet her head. Satisfied when she meowed, he smiled and started up the car. “Let’s go home.”

Had to bring Alpine in, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[cadencejames87]

🥺🥺Awwww

toxic

bucky barnes x female reader fwb blurb...maybe it'll be more one day

word count: 678

A/N: I found this little excerpt of dialogue in my notes, apparently I wrote it in September of last year and never did anything with it but I'm in a little fucked up fwb situation irl right now so I felt inspired to throw it out here. I might use it in a full story one day but for now...

song inspo:

            “What the fuck do you mean you love me?” The question leaves your lips in a harsh, heated rush. You can feel warmth creeping up to your cheeks and you know anger is written all over your features right now. Bucky runs a hand through his hair and turns his back to you for a moment, seemingly calming himself down before he turns his blue eyes back on you once more.

            “What do I mean? What the fuck do I mean? Do you think I’ve just been fucking the shit out of you every chance I get because you’re the convenient option?” The room doesn’t feel big enough for this fight. You cross your arms over your chest and say nothing, choosing only to narrow your eyes at him. “It ruins me. Every single time you let me have you like that, it ruins me and I feel like some piece of shit who promises himself he’ll get sober tomorrow but then he drives past a bar the next day and he can’t help himself. You’re intoxicating. You’re intoxicating and I wish I didn’t love you, but I do and if I have to deal with it then so do you.”

            “It’s not love. Comparing me to the alcohol that an alcoholic can’t resist sounds a whole lot like anything but love. That’s a toxic relationship that ends with one person left behind and leaves the other with long term damage.” You spit back, chest heaving beneath your still crossed arms.

            “Stop talking, let me talk.” Bucky quips, taking one step toward you. The room seems to shrink in size, though he’s still six feet away. You shake your head and briefly turn to glance out the window behind you, wondering if you’d survive the jump. When you turn back to face Bucky, his gaze has softened but there’s still a flame burning in his eyes. “I love you. I’m not asking you to love me back, I never expected that from you. I just need you to believe me when I say it, because I can’t walk away from this with you thinking I only ever wanted to fuck you. I wanted all of you, but I took what I could get. I love you.”

            “You have to stop saying it.” Your voice wavers and Bucky feels something shift. The tightness in his chest becomes increasingly harder to ignore as he struggles to keep his breathing at a normal rate.

            “Why? If this is the only moment I’ll ever get to say it to you, why should I stop?”

            “Because the more you say it, the more believable it is.” This time, your voice cracks. You let your arms fall to your sides as your resolve begins to crumble.

            “I love you.” He repeats, keeping his eyes trained on yours.

            “Fuck you.” You say with a small shake of your head. He takes another step forward, watching carefully as you remain still.

            “I love you.” He says again.

            “Fuck you, Bucky.”

            “I still love you.” His feet carry him forward until there’s only a foot of space between you. He stares down at you for a long moment, wondering how likely it is that you try to jump out of the window if he reaches out and touches you. Fuck it. The fingertips of his right hand ghost up your left arm, following the curve of your shoulder up to your neck. His palm presses against the angle of your jaw as he brushes over your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. Warmth pools low in your stomach and your eyes flutter closed.

            “I hate you.” You whisper with closed eyes. He feels the breath of your words against his thumb.

            “That’s okay, I love you.”

            “Bucky…” He leans in and presses his forehead against yours, bringing his vibranium hand up so he’s cupping your face in both palms now.

            “I’ll stop saying it.” He assures you, letting the tip of his nose brush against yours ever so slightly. “But I won’t stop feeling it.”

[cadencejames87]

🤤🤭

Sharp Dressed Man

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky looks good in a suit, and it isn't fair how easily he turns you on.

Word Count: Over 2k

Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), referenced oral sex (f. receiving), feels, sweet and spicy fic, established relationship, vulnerability, being in love, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Tower Shenanigans based on an anon ask. ❤️ Thank you to the lovely @buckybarnesfic, @soelstress, @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for looking it over and assuring me it wasn't garbage. Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was still getting ready for the day while you made him breakfast. It was the most important meal of the day, and neither of you would let the other skip it. Thankfully the rest of the team had already eaten and were elsewhere, otherwise everyone would try to steal something; except for Bob because he wouldn't take food without asking. Not to mention the last time John tried to steal one of Yelena’s meals he almost lost a finger. 

The scent of freshly brewed coffee cut through the last traces of sleep, warming you up as you loaded the plates with various foods and set them on the island. You rinsed the dishes and cleaned the counters while you waited for Bucky, doing a silly little dance in-between tasks. It wasn't your day to tidy up the kitchen, but you weren't going to be a jerk and leave it a mess. 

“Someone’s happy this morning,” Ava said from behind you, and you somehow didn't jump at the sound. You were all getting used to her phasing in and out of the rooms. “Let me guess. Morning sex?”

Was it obvious since you were only in your robe and underwear? “Maybe,” you teased. 

The wonderful ache between your legs was a nice reminder of how Bucky woke you earlier, making you shiver. You felt his fingers and tongue working you over before you opened your eyes, and you barely recovered from your first orgasm before he had his cock in you. It wasn't rushed either. He took his time, making you feel every delicious inch as he thrust slow and deep. Even when you came again he didn't stop. 

“‘Attagirl,” he smiled against your lips while you trembled beneath him, his body effectively caging you in. “But you can give me one more. I know you can.”

“Bucky,” you whined, wanting nothing more than for him to fill you to the brim. 

“Just one more, sweetheart.” A hand moved between your bodies so he could play you like a well tuned instrument. “One more and I’ll give it to you.”

You did, and so did he, your name tumbling from his lips as he spilled into you. Who wouldn't give Bucky another orgasm if he gently demanded it? Three orgasms wasn't a bad way to start the day. A girl could do much worse. 

“Lucky,” she smirked, snapping you out of your thoughts when she snatched a bite of food from Bucky’s plate. “Mmm. Remind me to have you make me breakfast the next time you have morning sex.”

“Hey!” you yelled, but there was laughter in your eyes when she took another bite and phased away. “You’ll pay for that!”

“Who will pay for what?” Bucky asked when he walked into the room, making your breath catch in your throat. 

Bucky's hair was tucked behind his ears today, bringing your attention to his steel eyes before you took in the rest of him. His suit was tailored impeccably to his large frame, and he wore it well. He carried himself with composed ease, his steps deliberate and head held high. His presence demanded attention without appearing arrogant, which was tough to balance. He was all man. 

He was your man. 

“Fuck me,” you breathed. 

Bucky may not be a Congressman anymore, but he would have had your vote for anything and everything he ever wanted. 

His eyes flashed with unmistakable lust and pride as he walked toward you, making your stomach flip. “Already did.”

“You did, and you can do that again later,” you said, reaching up to trace his mouth. 

You smiled when he kissed your fingers. It was an honor to touch him and that wasn't at all an exaggeration. You noticed how tense he got when some got too close to him, but not you. Never you. 

“So, I look handsome?” he asked casually, adjusting his tie. “Not that I’m trying to look handsome. I’m only wearing this since I have a meeting, and I might get a few dirty looks if I show up in tactical gear.”

You almost teased that he was fishing for a compliment, but you saw just a flicker of his confidence waver as he waited for your answer. “Suit or tactical gear, you’re the most handsome man I've ever seen.”

He breathed out, his confidence back in full force. “I’m glad to hear that.” Sliding a hand over the curve of your hip, his fingers dug in, a protective and possessive touch, when he brought his mouth to your ear. “And I may have to wear suits around you more often since it turns you on so much.”

You tried to play coy, as if your nipples hadn’t peaked and your clit didn't throb. “Who said I'm turned on?” 

Bucky chuckled and lowered his head, his teeth nipping your neck and drawing a whimper from you. His lips moved up to find your ear again while you tried to keep your breathing steady. “Don't have to say it, sweetheart. I can smell you,” he whispered. You couldn't hide anything with those heightened senses of his, a blessing or a curse depending on how you looked at it. “Ruined your panties the second I walked in here.”

Your eyes closed. He was right, the smug bastard. Damn him. Damn him to Hell. No, not there. That was too cruel. Your bed would do nicely. 

It was insane the more you thought about it. The man could breathe and it would send your libido into overdrive. Feminism? Where did it go? One murder strut or grumpy stare and it went out the window along with your panties. One smile and it melted your insides. 

What had he done to you?

“You're unbelievable,” you sighed. 

He pulled back, searching your face. “What do you mean?” 

“I was a strong and capable woman before I came here,” you said, the words sounding ridiculous as soon as they left your mouth. 

“And you still are,” he assured you. Bucky was one of your biggest supporters, always. 

“It’s just… Do you have any idea what that’s like? To just look at someone and get turned on?” You stepped out of reach and gestured to him. You asked yourself some days how Bucky Barnes could possibly be real. How did someone like him exist? “You breathe and I get aroused. That isn't normal.”

No other man had that kind of power over you, body or heart, until him. 

The warm chuckle from your boyfriend had you fighting not to smile. “One, we’re not normal. Two, your breathing turns me on, too. And three, I do know it’s like to just look at someone and get aroused because that happens when I look at you,” he said, taking your hand to bring you back to him. He placed it against his crotch and grew harder under your touch. “We’re a match made in heaven, Hell, whatever you want to call it.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks. You two were a good match. “It isn't just arousal when I look at you. It’s…” You took a breath and gripped his jacket with your other hand, trying to be careful not to wrinkle it. “You smile at me and…” 

“And what?” he asked, catching your eye and softly smiling. 

You swallowed, your eyes suddenly misting over before you dropped your hands. It was alarming how quickly your emotions took over in regard to Bucky. “I see a future with you there.”

Bucky cupped your cheeks when you tried to duck your head. He had stripped you bare more than once, but saying something like that made you feel more vulnerable than when you were naked. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“You have the power to break me,” you whispered, your eyes shutting. Not to hide, but to keep the tears at bay. “Which should be terrifying, but it’s very exhilarating.”

To give that much of yourself to another, to trust them to that extent, wasn't easy. But if life taught you anything, it was that it was too short and you had to seize every opportunity to live it to the fullest. Who better to do that with than Bucky Barnes?

You cleared your throat when he didn't say anything, his eyes a storm of emotions when you opened yours. “Your breakfast is getting cold. You should-”

He surged forward, his lips covering yours. The pad of his thumbs brushed your cheeks when he deepened the kiss, coaxing you to open your mouth to his. Emotions surged through you, your heart nearly overflowing as you held onto each other. You felt everything all at once and let yourself be swept away. 

He slowly broke the kiss allowing you both to savor the lingering touch of each other's lips and take a much needed breath. “You could break me, too, but you won't,” he said, his forehead resting against yours as you attempted to calm your racing heart. “Just like I'd never break you.”

It was a vow that resonated in your core, a declaration of love, one that had you kissing him again and silently promising the same. “Match made in heaven or Hell, huh?”

“And where you go, I’ll follow,” he smiled. 

You'd follow him, too. “Well, right now you need to eat breakfast and head out so you aren't late for your meeting.”

He groaned and refrained from rolling his eyes. “This suit is coming off as soon as I get back,” he said, much to your disappointment. Or maybe your delight. 

“Right when you get back?” You bit your lip. “Will you use the tie on me?” 

“I can,” he smirked, making your body heat up all over again. “Can have a little fun in the office, too. Pretend I’m your boss and-”

“Or I could be your boss since I'm strong and capable,” you teased. 

He moaned, seemingly into that idea as he backed you against the island. “Boss or not, I’ll still bend you over the desk or have you sit on it while I eat your pretty pussy.”

You whined. There was no stopping Bucky when he was hungry. He’d spread your legs and stay between them until you cried, lap up every drop and still want more. 

His hands roamed your body, forgetting all about breakfast. “Fuck you raw and fill you up just the way you-”

Bob cleared his throat, both of you turning toward the sound. How long had the poor guy been standing there? “Just getting a drink,” he said, quickly going to the fridge and avoiding looking at you. “I’m not even here.”

“Sorry, Bob,” you smiled sheepishly when he grabbed his drink and bolted. “We should probably rent a hotel room or something soon and give the team a break.”

You and Bucky could be extremely private some days and others there was no stopping you. How the team put up with it you had no idea. Maybe because you made each other happy. It still had to be slightly obnoxious for them. 

Bucky scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his handsome face, too. “Or we could always do a campout on the roof so we aren't too far away,” he suggested. 

You smiled as you imagined it. Looking out over the city and watching the stars before cuddling up in a tent. A cabin getaway was also something to keep in mind for the future when you two could take a break together. Peaceful, quiet. Something just for the two of you. 

“A roof campout sounds nice,” you said. 

“Good,” Bucky smirked before he picked you up and set you on the island. “Campout later. Right now I want breakfast.”

“Bucky, your meeting.” 

“I won't be late.”

You didn't resist when he opened your legs. “Ava said no more fooling around in the kitchen since we eat here,” you reminded him. Alexei would probably encourage it. “And I just cleaned up, and you haven't eaten the food I made.”

“I’ll clean up the mess,” he winked as he crouched down. “And I’ll eat after I eat.”

And he did. 

We deserve this. Bucky deserves this. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[cadencejames87]

🥺💗💗💗 there are other ways to clear his mind 🍆😮

Quiet the Noise

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: The noise is too much for Bucky some days.

Word Count: Over 1k

Warnings: Light angst, reflecting, comfort, fluff, Thunderbolts spoilers, established relationship, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Tower Shenanigans. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The world is too loud some days for Bucky. The non-stop noise consumed him until he couldn't hear himself think. Noise cancelling headphones didn't work since he still had too many thoughts running through his head. He longed for quiet and for a time when life wasn't so demanding, where he could sit with a book or relax and not worry about the next fight. Days like that he found himself on the roof sitting on one of the sofas, away from the team, looking up at the sky.

The night air was cool against his skin, a quiet contrast to the weight he carried. Even at the tower height, he could hear the hum of traffic below that never ceased. The distant but constant hum was like the heartbeat of the city, proof that the world kept moving, even as he sat still. It would never sleep, never stop.

The same could be said about him at times. He didn’t sleep some nights thanks to nightmares that had him waking up in a cold sweat, and he didn’t stop trying since he tried to atone for his past. He was still finding his way and carving his path, and he thought being a congressman was the next best thing toward helping people and contributing in a meaningful way. That didn’t last.

Had he done any good during his short term?

Here he was, back on a team, back in the fight, and maybe he never really left the fight altogether. He was mentally in a better place today than he was even a short time ago, but it took patience and grace when he sometimes felt out of sync in the modern world. It took self-compassion and forgiveness when the actions of his past unexpectedly crept up in his mind and weighed heavily on his heart. Each day he faced a challenge of some kind. Even breathing at times seemed both difficult and an accomplishment. 

“Just breathe,” he told himself. 

Bucky inhaled, exhaled, and looked at the stars, considering himself lucky since there was so many shining tonight. There wasn’t a single cloud to hide them either. As he continued to stare the sounds began to fade. Not completely, but enough that he relaxed into the cushions. He found himself smiling a little, too, since the twinkling brightness within the darkness made him hope for a better tomorrow. 

Tilting his head up more when another breeze rolled in, his hair brushed back from his face. For a second it felt like your touch, soft and calming. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes when the scent of your perfume drifted his way, centering him. He didn't have to look behind him to know you were there. The warmth of your presence spread to him like the lingering heat of the day, embracing him even in the night.

“Beautiful night,” you said, your voice even gentler than normal, like you knew everything was too loud for him. 

He opened his eyes, the stars sparkling even brighter than before, as if they were welcoming you to join him. Or maybe a higher being made the stars emit more energy to honor you. The science geek in him knew the logical reasons like atmospheric conditions and stellar brightness shifts, but he also knew there were all sorts of beings in the universe. He liked to think at least one saw the goodness and light within you and wanted to honor it in some way.

“It is,” he agreed, turning to look back at you. 

The lingering noise faded when he looked into your eyes. His chest felt lighter, the ringing in his ears gone. The peace he longed for, even for a second, was there and he savored it. In a way it was frightening how much of a hold you had over him. But you weren’t the kind of person who would exploit it, and he wasn’t the kind to lean on you as a crutch.

Which was why Bucky didn’t beckon you closer at first as much as he wanted to. You had already given him so much by giving your heart, and he didn't want to take more from you tonight. So you didn’t have to stay up on the rooftop with him if you didn't want to. But the tender smile on your face and care in your eyes wordlessly told him everything he needed to hear, everything to ease his worries.

“I don't want to bother you if you want to be alone, but I'm here if you need me.”

“I want you to be okay.”

“You’re a good man.”

“I love you.”

He answered the silent assurance by no longer hesitating and holding his hand out to you, which you graciously took. It fit perfectly, like it belonged there, like you belonged together. And once you sat beside him, he brushed his lips against your temple to assure you.

“You're never a bother, and I’ll always need you.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“I’m finally believing that I’m a good man.”

“I love you, too.”

With a gentle smile and a heart full of love, he felt lucky to be under the same sky as you, noises and all. 

Your brows pinched when he took his hand away, but you smiled again when he slipped his arm around you. He got to hold you close and keep you warm while you leaned into him without hesitation. Resting your head on his shoulder, you didn't dare breathe a word. Neither did he. There was no need to fill the silence, no need to explain why he was up there and no need for you to ask. It was enough for him to know in this vast and overwhelming world that you were there- his safe space. 

So while the world is too loud some days for Bucky and he’s far from being a perfect man and hero, being with you brings him peace. 

And for tonight, that was all he needed.

Bucky deserves so much love, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[cadencejames87]

Ugh, they would let media/schedules get in the way of reaching out to eachother 😭 and him not saying anything but wanting to make sure shes safe to get back from the pharmacy.. who was he angry texting lol Then to help her with the announcement thinking it's for Pietro because he loves her and wants to be supportive 😭😭😭

real people

chapter eighteen (finale)

18+

the final part.

Content Warning: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, angst, mention of pregnancy, enemies to lovers to strangers, fluff, mention of sex, misunderstanding trope bc why not, and omg I am not ready to say goodbye to these characters I want to cryyyyyyyy. super long author's note at the end

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"This is nice," Gwen says, her eyes closed as she stands with her arms up, allowing the breeze to brush over her skin. Her loose, white shirt flies behind her and the waves gently kiss at her feet. You're not sure why she keeps saying that - this is nice - but you hardly go an hour without hearing those words pour from her mouth, drenched in contentment.

The sunset has caused the sky to match her hair, the sand cooling down under your palms. You watch as the ice in your sangria melts, letting the sound of the waves relax you. Not that there's anything causing you any stress right now - having been in Mexico for a week now, you're completely zen. But there is one thought that threatens to disturb your peace.

"Do you think he'll be here?" You can't help but ask her.

Her head turns to the side, her eyes fluttering open. She knows who you're talking about without having to ask for clarification. "He's the best man," She reminds you. "Of course he'll be here."

"This early on, though?" You wonder, grabbing fistfuls of sand. "The rehearsal dinner isn't until Friday."

Gwen turns so she's fully facing you, a blank look on her face. "I know what you want to hear, but I'm not going to lie to you," She begins. "He's here. Just landed today, actually."

Your stomach churns and you nod, looking down at your lap.

"What?" She asks you, taking a few steps closer. "Are you really that nervous to see him?"

"I haven't seen him since..." You trail off, shaking your head.

"Then maybe it's about time you did," She says bluntly. "I mean, for Christ's sake, it's been what? Three years?"

"I know, but..." You mumble, feeling dumb. "It's weird. We were together for such a short period of time, and now we've spent so much time apart... but I still-"

"Don't," Gwen cuts you off curtly. "I swear to God, don't say it."

"I wasn't gonna say love," You claim. "I just mean, I won't know how I feel until I see him."

"Well, then," She chirps. "Good thing both of you brought dates."

"He brought a date?" You ask, feeling nauseous at the thought of seeing him with someone else.

"Mhm," Gwen confirms. "But you have Pietro, so you're both in the same boat, which is good.

"Yeah," You utter dryly. "Great."

Gwen stretches before holding her hand out to you. "C'mon, we need to get ready. If we miss dinner again, Sharon will make me sleep on this beach," She says before grabbing your hand and pulling you up to your feet.

The two of you make your way back to the resort, but this time, you're no longer zen. You're a bundle of nerves.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror, you turn to the side to get a look at yourself at all angles. Ever since your conversation with Gwen on the beach, you've felt a pit in your stomach and it's weighing you down, making you want to do nothing more than crawl into bed and hide from the world.

There's a knock at the door which makes you jump slightly, before it swings open. "Hey, you," Pietro says as he walks in with a grin. "You look incredible."

Relaxing a little with his presence, you smile at him in the mirror. "Thank you, P," You reply. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yep - just need to use the bathroom," He says as he walks towards it.

"Ugh, please don't clog it again!" You call out as he walks past you.

With a sly grin and a squeeze of your ass, he swings open the door. "I won't," He swears as he walks in, and you know better than to believe him.

"Why do I fuck you, again?" You call out, shaking your head.

Pietro opens the door again and pokes his head through. "Because I'm a damn good fuck, baby," He says with a wink. "Your words."

Rolling your eyes, you fiddle with your hair. "Whatever. Go poop - and hurry, because Sharon will kill me if I'm late!"

While you wait for him, you sit on the bed and decide to scroll through social media. You notice that Steve's got a new story up, so with a soft smile you open it up, expecting to see a photo of him and Sharon - but it's a photo of a gift-wrapped box with a Rolex on top of it. Gift from the best man, the caption reads. With a gasp, you close Instagram and put your phone down. And immediately, you hate how affected you are, just from a mere mention of him.

Fuck, you're screwed.

"I'm ready!" Pietro announces as he walks back out the bathroom.

"Did you wash your ha-"

"Yes, I washed my hands," He cuts you off with a laugh as he walks over and takes your hand, pulling you up to your feet. Moving in closer, he gives you a soft kiss. "You really do look so fucking good."

"No," You say sternly. "I refuse to be late to this dinner, P."

He tilts his head, giving you the soft-eyed, ever-so-slightly-desperate look he knows drives you crazy. "Gimme ten minutes, baby," He mumbles.

You narrow your eyes at him and push him back. "No. You'll mess up my hair and makeup," You whine.

"C'mere," He whispers before kissing you, once, twice, three times.

You melt into it, allowing yourself the respite of his physical comfort from your overthinking head, but then your mind conjures up the image of Sharon's pissed-off expression, which is enough motivation to give you the strength to pull away. "Let's go," You decide firmly. "It's Sharon's wedding week. I'm not gonna stress her out anymore than she already is."

Giving in with a sigh, he nods and takes a step back. "Alright," He says, following you to the door. "Have I told you how sexy you are when you're being all considerate for your friends, and shit?"

The resort has been booked out in its entirety by Steve and Sharon for the week, allowing them to spend a few days with their nearest and dearest before the big day on Saturday. So far, Sharon's been spending the days with her bridesmaids, Steve with his groomsmen, and each evening, everyone comes together to have dinner. It's been fine so far, but today's the first night that all the groomsmen are here - which has you almost shaking as you and Pietro make your way to the dining hall.

"What's wrong? Nervous to see everyone?" Pietro asks you as your heels click against the marble floor. "You've already met 'em all before, right? Oh, wait, shit. Isn't your ex here tonight?"

He swings the doors to the hall open and, of course, it seems you're the last ones to arrive. Thankfully, Sharon doesn't look annoyed in the slightest, as everyone turns to look at you.

"They're here!" Sharon squeals, standing up with her glass of wine raised up. "Come in, sit down!"

Pietro's got his arm around your waist, so when he begins to walk in, even though your feet feel planted to the ground, you can't help but move with him. But your eyes stayed glued to him.

Bucky.

It's like time slows down. He looks so different, but also exactly the same. And he's staring back at you. A small part of you is acutely aware of the beautiful woman sitting by his side, but everyone else melts away into irrelevance when you're looking at him. It's the first time in three years that you've been so close to him - sitting at opposite ends of a 25-seat table - but it feels as familiar as though no time has passed at all.

"Red or white tonight?" Steve asks you as he stands up to pour you a glass of wine.

Ripping your eyes away from Bucky and looking up at Steve, you let out a huff. "Brown," You reply curtly before grabbing a bottle of whisky from the middle of the table and pouring it into your glass.

Steve chuckles before pouring Pietro some wine, and you take a long sip. Next to you, Gwen gently nudges your stomach. "Way to be subtle," She hisses under her breath. "You guys just stared at each other for, like, five minutes."

"Shut up," You whisper, before you smile widely at Sharon who's sitting opposite you. "You look amazing, Shar!"

And she really does - this whole week, she's been glowing. "Thank you," She sings, still standing. Clearing her throat, she taps her glass of water with her fork, getting everyone's attention. "Alright. Everyone is officially here! Besides, like, our family, and everyone else," She begins with a soft laugh. "Steve and I are so, so grateful that you've all taken time out of your incredibly busy schedules to come and spend the last few days before the wedding with us. Ever since Steve and I started talking about getting married, we really had only one priority - to have a relaxed time with our best friends. Mexico has always meant so much to him and I - ever since the school trip episode of Sunset Lake, and all the times we returned together since - so it only felt right to get married here. In four days, Steve and I will be standing at the altar, with all of you there- but until then, we can eat, relax, get pampered, and party!"

Everyone holds up their respective glasses and cheers along with her, and Steve stands up and gives her a kiss. You grin as you watch them, so entirely in love. It makes you yearn for that feeling. Sure, sleeping with Pietro is fun and fulfils your needs, but you haven't felt a deeper connection to anyone since... Bucky.

You dare to steal a glance at him. He's pouring his date a drink- you recognize her. She's from some TV show that was big on Netflix or Hulu last year. Not his usual type, but then again, he's been linked with all sorts of women over the past three years. And he could say the same about you.

Before long, the food is served, so you can distract yourself with hummus and pita. You have conversations with Sharon and Steve, Gwen and Peter, and a few hushed comments fly between you and Pietro, but as it's such a big group, you can't venture out much further than them. Not that you particularly want to.

She finds him funny, that much is for sure. She pulls him arm whenever he makes her laugh, which is often.

"Her name's Jean," Gwen tells you, knowing you too well to not realize what it is you're thinking. "They work together. They've been spotted out at dinner a few times since."

"I feel sick," You utter, grabbing your napkin.

"Don't worry- you have Pietro, so you're on equal ground with him right now," Gwen says in an attempt to comfort you - as if the thing you're upset about is that Bucky is one-upping you.

"Pietro is nothing more than a human dildo to me," You whisper bitterly. "Bucky's actually dating that woman. With emotions."

"That's mean," Pietro chimes in as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, resting his chin on your other shoulder.

"Shut up. You're lucky I let you anywhere near me," You say to him with an eye-roll.

He bites down on his fist and leans in closer to Gwen with his head at your chest. "Isn't she so sexy?" He says lowly, to which she just snorts.

While everyone else continues chatting and drinking, you can't help but fall into the darkest depths of your mind.

He doesn't want you anymore. He probably hasn't for a while. You wonder how long it took him to officially be over you. You thought you might have been starting to get over him until you saw him tonight. All the feelings just came rushing back, hitting you like a truck. The last thing you wanted all those years ago was to become a stranger to him- but it seems like it might be too late.

Suddenly, you feel a kick under the table. You frown and look up to see Sharon giving you a pointed look as she taps her phone. While Gwen and Pietro chat, you look down at your phone to see a message from Sharon.

SharBear

I need to meet you tonight once everyone's in their rooms. Midnight outside reception. It's important. Please!

Without hesitation, you respond.

You

I'll be there.

Your mind is swirling with all the things Sharon could possibly want to speak to you about - has something gone wrong with the wedding plans? Has she suddenly got cold feet? You pace at reception for ten minutes before she finally appears.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry, I was waiting for Steve to get into the shower," She says in a hushed voice as she rushes over from the elevator and grabs your hands. "Thank you for meeting me."

"Of course, Sharon," You say, deeply concerned. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's perfect!" She replies instinctively with a chirpy smile, before letting out a sigh and letting her face fall. "But... it might not be."

"What's going on?" You ask her, pulling her away from the worker at the front desk who's giving you odd looks and towards the entrance of the hotel.

She looks around the lobby, making sure nobody's around before she speaks. "I need... I need you to buy me something," She utters.

You frown as you lower your voice. "Like... drugs?" You whisper. "Something to help you relax? Pietro might have a xanny-"

"No, not like that," She cuts you off with a mild look of panic in her eyes as they meet yours. "I need, um... I think I need a pregnancy test?"

Up until now, you would've liked to think that you'd be the calm, collected friend during crises. That you'd be the level-headed leader keeping everyone's panic at bay, coming up with an action plan and swiftly carrying it out without fault. But instead, you suck in a loud gasp and slap your hands over your face. "Sharon!" You let out, your yell muffled by your hands.

"I know, I know, it's crazy," She says as she shakes her hands. "It's just so I can be sure, before I drink myself into oblivion this week."

"That's why you haven't been drinking," You say with wide eyes as everything falls into place in your head. "And you didn't eat the edibles yesterday!"

"I'm just being careful, until I can be sure," Sharon says. "Now, you're my best friend and the one I trust most out of everyone here. I can't trust the resort workers not to leak it to the press, so I can't ask them or even order one online in case they snoop. So it has to be you, Y/N."

Taking in a deep breath, you nod, accepting the responsibility. "Yes. I can do this," You tell her, keeping your voice firm. "I can do this for you."

"Great. There's a pharmacy about a mile away, it's open twenty-four hours. Steve and I stopped there when we landed, to get... condoms," She says, wincing.

"Yes, got it," You say, trying to remain calm. "I'll call a taxi and-"

"No public transport," She cuts in quickly. "Everyone in this city knows the wedding is this week. They all know we're here. If a cab driver recognizes you - I can't handle the scandal, Y/N."

"So what do you want me to do?" You ask her, shaking your head. "It's not like I can walk a mile in the middle of the night!"

Just then, someone walks into the hotel. It's, of course, none other than Bucky, holding a motorcycle helmet under his arm. You can practically see the cogs turning in Sharon's head as she looks at him.

"Sharon, no. No, Sharon," You say gravely, holding her arms tight. But it's too late.

"Bucky!" She calls out, making you die inside.

"Hey," He replies, while you stare at the floor. "What are you both doing down here so late?"

"We, um, have a little issue," She tells him. "Just a little visit from Aunt Flo, you know?"

"Oh, right," He mumbles, and you can't help but feel a shiver at the sound of his voice. Get it together.

"Yeah, so... would you be able to give Y/N a lift to a pharmacy?" She asks him while you grimace. "So she can stock up on tampons, and stuff."

"Sure," Bucky replies. "Let's go."

"Thank you so much!" Sharon exclaims, giving him a hug before coming back to you and placing her hands on your shoulder. "And thank you. I love you."

"You're lucky I love you, too," You mutter, before turning to face him.

He holds the helmet out to you and you take it before following him out, shooting Sharon one last glare on your way.

"So, the pharmacy?" Bucky asks as he taps on his phone.

"Yeah, Sharon said there should be one about a mile away?" You respond, your voice pathetically small.

"Got it. Let's go," He says while sticking his phone with the map on on the handlebar and getting on the bike.

You take in a deep breath before putting on the helmet and getting on behind him, planning to hold onto the handles located behind you for the entirety of the ride - but the second he rides off, you instantly clamber to wrap your arms around him. It may be awkward, but you'd rather that than die before the wedding.

The ride is quiet, save for the sound of the engine. The streets are pretty bare, being in a less-populated area, and the sky is full of stars. After a few minutes, you take off your helmet so as to feel the fresh air on your face, and to get a proper view of the starry night. Soon, you arrive at the pharmacy, and Bucky parks up outside. When you jump off and he sees you without the helmet on, he sighs.

"I would really rather you keep that on during the ride," He says lowly.

"Sorry," You utter, slowly backing away towards the shop. "Want anything?"

He simply shakes his head, and you nod before turning and walking into the pharmacy. Thankfully, there's a box of face masks at the entrance so you grab one and wear it. The man at the counter doesn't seem the type to keep up with celebrity news, but you want to do all you can to keep things under wrap. You walk through the aisles until you get to the shelves with pregnancy tests, and decide to grab one of each of the five brands available, knowing Sharon's the type to want to double and triple check. Along with the tests, you grab a chapstick, for no other reason than to make it feel like a normal shopping trip, though the combination of Sharon's news and being back on Bucky's bike has you feeling like you're having an out-of-body experience.

Just as you put the tests and chapstick on the counter, you feel a presence behind you. You turn your head to see Bucky standing there, holding a bag of chips. And his eyes are on the tests.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Without a word, you toss four ₱500 notes on the counter and take the plastic bag from the worker before stuffing in the tests and chapsticks and walking out the store. When you get out, all you want to do is scream. He thinks you're pregnant, or at least potentially so. And you can't even correct him because then you'd be outing Sharon. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Ready to go?" He asks as he walks out of the pharmacy, as casual as ever. Fucker.

"You're so annoying!" You can't help but explode at him once you rip the mask off your face.

Taken aback, he raises a brow. "Excuse me?"

"If you wanted fucking chips, why didn't you just ask me to buy you chips?" You ask him, frustration dropping from your tone.

"What is your problem?" Bucky asks you, taking a step closer.

"I clearly asked you if you wanted anything, and you said no," You hurl at him.

"I changed my mind," He says flatly.

"You changed your mi- you're such a dick," You hiss, turning away.

"Will you calm down?" He calls out. "It's... not a big deal!"

"Not a big deal?" You all but scream, turning back to him. He thinks you could be pregnant with Pietro's baby. He thinks you're that close - that you'd be that reckless because you're that locked in with fucking Pietro. And he doesn't seem to care.

"Yes, it's not a big deal," He doubles down.

"Whatever," You huff before spinning back on your heel and storming away.

"Where do you think you're going?" His voice booms behind you, but you're too irritated to think or act rationally. You simply continue stomping away, too stubborn to accept a ride back to the resort with him. Safety be damned. You have pregnancy tests and chapstick to defend yourself with.

The rumbling of his bike gets louder and after a few seconds, he pulls up next to you. "Get on the damn bike, Y/N," He orders you sternly.

"Fuck you," You spit, walking even faster.

He trails slowly behind you, his bike swaying side to side as he does his best to keep the slow pace. "You're going the wrong way, dipshit," He says, and it feels like the air turns twenty degrees colder.

The old nickname makes you falter in your steps, but you continue moving. "Maybe I'm taking the scenic route," You utter.

He speeds up for a second before turning his bike in front of you, stopping you from going any further. With a glare, he lets out a huff through his nostrils. "Get on the bike. I'm tired, and I don't have time for this," He says curtly.

"Then go back to the hotel and get in bed," You say with your arms folded across your chest. "I'm sure Jean's waiting for you."

Bucky narrows his eyes at you. "What, are you jealous?" He asks, to which you scoff.

"You wish!" You all but yell. "Just go. I'll call an Uber."

"It's almost 1am. I'm not letting you get a cab alone," He says bluntly. "Get on the bike, we'll go back to the hotel, and we can pretend like this night didn't happen."

A dry laugh leaves your mouth of its own accord. "I've heard that before," You mutter bitterly.

Without a word, he holds the helmet out to you. You roll your eyes before grabbing it off him and getting on the bike, as much as it pains you to give in. This time, even though you're terrified, you keep your hands firmly on the handles behind you, refusing to let him think you want to touch him. Although it hurts to be back at square one with him, it's easier to focus on being annoyed at him than to realize he's over you.

Once you get back to the resort, you clamber off the bike and pull the helmet off, putting it down where you were sitting. He sits and types on his phone.

"Thanks for the ride," You mumble like a child being forced to show manners.

He just grunts in response.

The next morning at breakfast, you're inwardly stressing as you try to find the perfect opportunity for you to transport the five pregnancy tests in your bag to Sharon's without anyone seeing.

"Y/N, sit down!" Gwen calls out before grabbing your hand and yanking you down onto the empty seat next to her.

You give her a smile. "I actually just need to speak to Shar-"

"Eat first," She cuts you off sternly as she places a pastry onto your plate.

"Ooh, those look good," The person sitting on the other side of you comments. You turn to see none other than Bucky's date, Jean. "Could you please hand me one?"

Of course she's lovely and polite. Fuck's sake.

"Sure," You reply with a smile as you grab the platter and hold it out to her.

She grabs a square croissant and puts it on her plate with a bashful look. "Thank you. God, this is so surreal," She says with flushed cheeks. "I'm just, like, a huge fan of you."

Damn. She's making it really hard to hate her.

"That's so sweet, thank you," You reply.

"It's just crazy being in a room, practically on vacation, with a group of people I look up to," She continues with awe in her eyes. "Oh, I'm Jean, by the way. I... I'm here with... uh..."

"It's alright. I know you're Bucky's date," You tell her with a soft laugh. "I'm not sweating over a six-month situationship I had three years ago, don't worry."

A throat clear behind you. "Morning, everyone," Bucky says, squeezing her shoulders before taking a seat next to her.

"Oops," You whisper to yourself.

"Morning, sunshine," Jean greets him sweetly with a kiss on his cheek before she turns back to you. "So, I have to ask you: what was it like working with the Norman Osborn? Was it everything I dream about?"

"Oh, and more," You answer her emphatically. "He's just... a genius. It sounds cliché, but that's really the only way I can describe him. Being on set with him alone was flabbergasting, but being directed by him? I genuinely felt like a new woman every day. A new actress, should I say."

"Wow. I am so jealous," Jean says. "And the movie was incredible. You're gonna think I'm lying, but I literally watched it in theatres, like, twelve times."

"So, you're who I need to thank for the box office success," You say teasingly.

"You were so robbed at the Oscars this year," She says with a scoff. "Like, I know the other nominees were great, but none of them held a candle to your performance."

"I was just grateful to be nominated," You tell her, giving her the PR-approved response.

She narrows her eyes, leans in, and lowers her voice. "Yeah, but you were also thinking, what the fuck? Right?" Jean whispers. "Don't worry, it's a safe space."

With a delighted laugh, you lightly push her arm. "Of course not," You say, before whispering, "Maybe."

After spending the entirety of breakfast laughing non-stop with Bucky's girlfriend, much to the surprise of everyone, you soon become acutely aware of the tests in your bag.

As everyone gets up to return to their rooms and freshen up before the day's activities, you pull Sharon to a quiet corner. "Hey," You whisper. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," She answers with a quick nod. "Haven't vomited today, but we'll see how long breakfast lasts."

"Uh, I've got the... things," You utter, giving her a pointed look as you shake your bag.

"Oh! Yeah, great, thank you so much," She says, holding your hands. "How was it with Bucky? I hope it wasn't too awkward? He didn't see, did he?"

Opting not to tell her about how he saw you buying the tests and how you subsequently screamed at him in the street, you nod. "It was fine," You lie. "Do you want them now?"

"Yes," She says, holding her bag open next to yours. "Just... don't be suspicious."

Trying to act casual, angling your bags so that nobody behind can see them, you slowly transport the tests one by one from your bag to hers.

"Fuck, how many did you get?" She asks with wide eyes.

"I figured you'd want to be really sure," You tell her with a shrug as you drop the last one in.

A smile breaks out on her face. "You know me so well," She says, pulling you in for a hug. "Thank you. You're the best."

"Do you wanna take one now?" You ask as you pull away. "I can come with you."

"I'm gonna wait until tomorrow," She tells you. "When Mom's here. I need her with me in case it's... yeah."

"Of course," You say with an understanding nod, though the sentiment doesn't reach your heart. Not having a mom in your life means if you were in Sharon's position, it would be her or Gwen you needed by your side - and for some twisted reason, it has you feeling bitter that you wouldn't be their chosen pregnancy-test aide. You know it's irrational and unfair to feel that way, but you can't help it.

"Okay, let's go back to everyone before they wonder what we're talking about," Sharon chirps as she takes your arm and leads you back to the group.

Jean gasps and rushes over to you when she sees you. "Hey, have you been to the spa yet?" She asks you excitedly.

"I haven't, actually," You tell her. "Been too busy helping Sharon out with wedding stuff."

"You have to come," She says, grabbing your hand. "They are incredible here. Bring Pietro, too - it can be like a double date at the spa!"

Realizing that that means Bucky will also be there, you falter. "Uh, I don't know if Pietro will-"

"If Pietro will what?" The man himself  asks as he appears, hugging you from behind.

"Oh, we were talking about spending some time at the spa," Jean tells him. "You're down, right?"

"Absolutely," He answers.

"So, it's settled!" She exclaims with a giddy grin. "We'll meet you there in an hour."

"Can't wait," You say half-heartedly.

You all but melt into the warm hot tub, closing your eyes and letting all your stress go with the steam. Pregnancy tests. Exes. Forget it all.

"Mind if I join?" An all too familiar voice asks.

Opening your eyes, you see Bucky stepping down into the tub. "Doesn't seem like I have a choice," You mutter.

There's a few moments of blissful silence, and you close your eyes again, electing to pretend as though he isn't there. The sound of Pietro and Jean racing laps in the swimming pool fades into the background, and all you can hear is the bubbles fizzing-

"So, a six-month situationship, huh?" Bucky abruptly cuts into your thoughts. "That's how you look at it?"

You let out a deep sigh, refusing to let him bait you into giving him a reaction. "What else would you call it?" You ask him.

He doesn't answer, but you're not foolish enough to think that's the end of the conversation. "So, you pregnant?" He asks bluntly.

"No," You reply.

"Took all five tests?"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"Were you always this childish?" You ask, opening your eyes to glare at him. "I'm none of your business anymore, Barnes. I haven't been for three years."

He's staring at you. "A heads-up would've been nice," He says bitterly. "Y'know, that 'see you later' actually meant fuck you, I'm done."

"I wasn't done," You correct him gravely. "Though you obviously were."

"Are you kidding me?" He asks with a dry laugh.

"Oh, sorry, all the times you tried so hard to contact me must've got lost in the mail," You say flatly.

"Contact you? And when was the best time? When you were dating your co-star while filming in Australia? Or maybe when you came back and started dating those other schmucks?" He spits.

"You cannot be serious," You say gravely. "Says Mr. 'Dating Three Women At Once'!"

"Really? You of all people believe what the media said?" Bucky asks incredulously.

"Oh, fuck you!" You yell, standing up.

"Fuck you," He returns just as harshly, standing up as well.

He's looking down at you with a look in his eyes you haven't seen since you first met - that day on Steve's yacht when you first debuted your fake relationship to the world. It sends a shiver down your spine. Full of rage and seemingly genuine hatred - and it makes you want to kiss him.

Bucky tries to stay strong, but his eyes betray him, flickering down to look at your drenched, bikini-clad body, the same body he's been missing for three years. He remembers all the places he left marks, and all the places he kissed it better.

"I never forgot how I felt," He says in a hushed, rushed tone.

"You didn't even blink at the possibility of me being pregnant with another man's child," You point out coldly.

"Listen to me," He utters, grabbing your wrist. "I thought about you every single minute. I still do."

"Bucky, shut up," You whisper, highly aware of both Pietro and Jean making their way over.

"Tell me you don't feel the same," He challenges you. "Tell me you don't want anymore. That you don't love me anymore."

"What the fuck, Barnes?" You hiss.

"If you can tell me you don't love me anymore, I won't bring it up again," He says.

You raise a brow.

His jaw clenches for a second. "But if you can't, I'll spend every waking moment getting you back," He finishes.

With a pit in your stomach and a lump in your throat, you shoot him one last glare. "You're too late," You utter before pulling your wrist out of his grip and leaving him there alone.

Friday evening arrives, and with it, the rehearsal dinner. Steve and Sharon's families have also arrived at the resort, meaning there's a lot more people around the table which makes it a heck of a lot easier to ignore Bucky's stares.

"What is going on between you?" Gwen asks you in a hushed voice as you're served by the waiting staff. "He hasn't stopped looking at you all day, with that weird, intense stare. Did you speak to him?"

With a shrug, you pick up your glass of wine. "It's Bucky. He's always weird and intense," You answer lamely.

"Oh, my God. Did he say something to you?" She presses. "You have to tell me. Are you guys... sleeping together?"

"What? No," You answer instantly. "What do you think of me, Gwen?"

"I don't know; when two people with history reconnect, there can be major sparks," She says while cutting into a roasted potato. "All the feelings come rushing back."

Instead of validating her theory with a response, you begin to eat.

"Holy shit. You did reconnect, didn't you?" She hisses. "I knew it!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," You say plainly.

She lets out a sigh. "Look, if you realized that there are still strong feelings between you, that's not a bad thing."

"Not a bad thing? He's got a girlfriend!" You whisper-shout, grateful for the sound of cutlery on porcelain drowning you out.

"Hasn't stopped you before," Gwen lets out before gasping at herself. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that. I mean - what he had with Natasha wasn't even real-"

"I get it, Gwen, it's fine," You cut in, and the two of you leave it at that.

While you're eating, Sharon gets out of her seat and walks around the table to you, smiling and squeezing the shoulders of everyone she passes on her way. When she gets to you, she brings her mouth to your ear and lowers her voice. "Can you come to the lobby with me?"

Once again, you're filled with anxiety and dread as you follow her out of the room. She holds your hand tight, and neither of you say a word as you walk to the lobby.

"Everything okay?" You ask once you get there, making sure the receptionist is out of earshot.

Sharon takes in a deep breath. "I took the test. Well, all five tests," She begins, a mixture of worry and fear in her eyes. "And... they were all positive."

You slap your hands over your mouth. "Oh, my God!" You all but scream, thankfully muffling your voice with your hands.

"I know!" She exclaims, breathing in and out quickly.

"That's amazing!" You tell her with a wide grin. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you," She whispers with teary eyes.

"Have you told Steve?" You ask her, to which she shakes her head.

"Not yet. I just... I don't know how," She admits. "My mom said I should just tell him, but... what if he gets scared? What if it's too much for him and he gets cold feet?"

"Sharon, that man looks at you like you hung the moon and stars," You tell her, holding her shoulders. "He loves you more than anything. The last thing he would do is leave you alone, especially if he knew the truth. Love isn't something you can just... throw away. Forget about. You can only confront it, and accept it... and... denying yourself of it would be the biggest disservice you could do to yourself."

She narrows her eyes. "Are we still talking about me being pregnant?"

You raise your brows, and let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding in. "I don't know," You say in a small voice.

"Okay, well, I want to do something special for him," She tells you. "He's always planning so many nice surprises for me, and I want to do the same. So, I need your help."

"Anything," You tell her.

A sly grin grows on her face. "I love you," She says.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask her with a frown. "Like you've done something I won't like?"

"Well, I thought you might need some help setting it up," She begins, glancing behind her. "So, I enlisted another pair of hands. The only other person I trust with my life who wouldn't go to the press."

Before you can ask her exactly who she's talking about, none other than Bucky walks into the lobby with an expectant look on his face. "Hey, Sharon. What is it you needed my help with?"

She looks at you with wide, hopeful eyes. "I don't want him to know it's for me, yet," She whispers to you. "Don't want him to know before Steve. You can tell him the truth once Steve knows."

With a sigh, you swallow your pride. "Uh, fuck. It's me, Barnes," You say flatly, hating every second of this. "As it turns out... I am pregnant."

He looks taken aback.

"And she wants to surprise Pietro," Sharon chimes in. "Can you help her set up the surprise on the beach? At this point, we don't want anyone knowing that doesn't need to, or that we don't trust."

With a nod, Bucky keeps his face free of emotion. "Of course."

You're convinced that you died and this is hell, because you've experienced nothing worse than setting up a 'We're Pregnant!' message on the beach with Bucky, who thinks the pregnancy is yours, and that the father is Pietro.

Bucky seems to have an artistic eye as he sets out the flowers around the words in the sand. You're lighting the candles, wondering how it got to this.

"This is so weird," You mumble.

"Yep," He replies curtly. "Didn't imagine this would be happening three years ago."

"It's been a long time," You say. "A lot has changed."

"You haven't," He says, looking down at the sand. "Still just as gorgeous."

A soft laugh leaves your mouth. "Should you be flirting with a pregnant woman?"

Bucky looks up at you, into your eyes. "Do you love him?" He asks you.

You struggle with the lighter, letting out a frustrated huff before answering him. "It started out as just sex," You say truthfully.

"Like us?"

You snort. "I guess."

"Do you love him?" He asks you again.

"Let's... not do this now," You suggest.

He lets out a long sigh and sits up. "When it ended with Natasha... my first thought was you. Carol told me to wait, at least a few weeks, so it didn't look like I was just jumping between you. I also didn't want to overwhelm you, or take attention off the fact that you won the case," He tells you. "Then you left New York to film in Australia. And the rumors about you and Luke... I just thought it would be best to leave you to it. You were working abroad. It wasn't the right time."

"Then I came back, and you were dating someone else," You remember.

"Wasn't dating her," He mumbles. "Emma and I were just friends."

"Well, it didn't look like that, and I didn't wanna reach out just to hear that you had moved on," You tell him truthfully. "I... I don't think I could have handled hearing that. For it to be final. Outlined clearly. I guess it was easier to live with the vagueness. The hope that... maybe we just needed time, and eventually we'd find each other again. But I couldn't listen to you telling me you were with someone else. I just couldn't."

He lets out a shaky breath. "I felt the same," He admits. "I know I'm a fucking coward for not trying harder. And now I'm too late."

"You're not a coward. You were just protecting yourself," You say lowly, before looking around. "I think we're done. Thanks for your help."

"Of course," He mumbles.

Sending Sharon a quick text telling her it's ready, you get up to leave. Bucky begins walking away, a look of dejection on his face, when you grab his hand. "Hold on. Just... wait here with me," You say, pulling him behind a rock.

"What are we doing here?" He asks you with a frown.

"Just wait," You whisper, looking over the rock. A few minutes pass before Sharon and Steve walk out the hotel.

"What are they doing here?" Bucky wonders. "Want me to stall them while you wait for Pietro?"

"Wait," You repeat, feeling the confusion emanate from him.

As Sharon and Steve make their way down to the beach, you hold your breath. Steve seems confused to the babble leaving Sharon's mouth, until they get to the candles and message in the sand. They stop. He's looking down at it. He looks back up at her, and she's grinning at him. With a laugh, he swoops her into his arms and spins her around.

You turn to look at Bucky, who just looks absolutely lost.

"What... they... huh?" He utters.

"The tests weren't for me. They were for Sharon," You reveal. "And this whole thing was for Steve, not Pietro. Sharon was just really scared of everyone finding out, and wanted Steve to know before anyone else."

Bucky's lips part in shock, and he just stares down at you. "So, you and Pietro..."

"We just sleep together every now and then," You admit. "I just... wanted to bring someone in case you brought someone. Which you did."

"Jean and I aren't... we're just friends," He tells you. "We're working on a film together. I mentioned that I wasn't bringing a plus-one, and she asked if she could come with me so she could network."

"So..." You trail off, your heart racing.

"So..." He echoes, raising a brow. "I still love you. I still want you more than I've ever wanted anything else. If I have to spend another three years proving myself to you, I will."

"Bucky... I... I love you, too," You say, the words finally flying free. "I don't want to waste any more time. But... I have a lot to think about," You tell him. "And a conversation to have with Pietro. But I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. The big day," He says, looking as though he's holding back from doing something he wants to do.

"Yeah. Very big," You say awkwardly. "Well... good night."

He takes a step closer to you, and you forget how to breathe. Looking down at you, he cups your cheek in his hand. "Good night," He replies.

Swallowing thickly, you nod.

How the fuck are you supposed to get any sleep tonight?

The wedding ceremony is beautiful. The love Steve and Sharon have for each other is evident in their vows and the way they look at each other, and you can't help but notice the glow on Sharon's face. However, the reception is when the real fun starts.

You've been pouring water shots for Sharon whenever someone wants to do a round with her, because she isn't ready for everyone to know about the baby yet. As her maid of honor, you've barely had a chance to sit down, having to fight all the small fires that arise to make sure she doesn't realize anything's wrong. You're grateful once the cake's been cut and the dance floor fills up, meaning you can finally relax as the party goes on.

"It's so unfair that you're breaking up with me," Pietro whines as he looks you up and down. "In that dress? You're killing me."

"Get a grip, Maximoff," You say with an eye roll.

"C'mon, let's dance!" He says, pulling you onto the dance floor before you have a chance to say no.

It's an upbeat song at first, one that you can simply clap along to so as not to make a fool of yourself - but then the band switches to a slow ballad.

"Everyone, grab someone you care about and let's dance a little slower," The singer says.

Bucky suddenly appears behind Pietro, placing his hand on his shoulder. "Hey, man. Mind if I steal her from you?"

Only looking slightly intimidated, Pietro nods. "Of course, man. Have fun," He says, giving you a grin before walking away.

As the song begins, a rendition of Can't Help Falling In Love, you smile and shake your head. "Did you request this?" You ask him, placing your hands on his shoulder.

"Who? Me?" He asks with faux innocence as he takes your waist in his hands. "I don't know what you mean."

"Cheesy fucker," You mumble, unable to keep the smile on your face.

This song reminds you of one of the best days you ever spent with him - when you met his family. Losing them was another painful thing you had to deal with when you left Bucky, and getting to see them again is one of the things you're most excited about.

"How is everyone?" You ask him. "Rebecca?"

"She's doing well," He says with a smile. "She's a teacher at our old school."

"I miss her," You tell him. "I miss them all."

"We can see them soon," Bucky tells you. "They've never stopped asking me about you. Ma will probably faint when I tell her you're mine for real this time."

"I'm yours?" You ask teasingly. "Prove it, Mr. Barnes."

He lets out a breathy laugh before moving in closer, holding your body to his, and bringing his lips to yours in a soft kiss. It was everything you've been missing and more. You feel just as safe with him as you did all those years ago.

When he pulls away, he shakes his head. "I can't believe I ever thought I could keep you at a distance. At the start, when I did everything I could to ignore my feelings," He says. "All you ever were was perfect. And I let fear keep me from being with you."

"We both did," You tell him. "And nobody can blame us. We'd never been in love before. Never thought we ever would be. But you came into my life, and... you taught me love. Showed me what it's supposed to be. And I want to spend my life loving you, without judgement, without hiding from the world. I love you, Jamie. No amount of time could have ever changed that. I never moved on, never forgot. I'll always be yours."

"And I'll always be yours," Bucky swears. "I'm gonna look after you, always. I went through life without feeling anything real before I met you. And you made me feel it all. Anger, hate, irritation."

"Damn," You utter lowly.

"Joy, appreciation, love," He adds with a smile. "It's like I was only pretending to feel those things before you made me really feel them. You lit a fire in me. Made me real. You made me real. I want to spend the rest of my life thanking you for that."

"I wish I could tell the Bucky from three and a half years ago that he'd be saying all this one day," You say with a grin. "He'd lose his fucking mind."

"Ah, he was a dick," He says flippantly. "Didn't know a thing."

"He was a dick," You agree, leaning in. "But... he was also really good in bed."

A smirk pulls at his lips. "Yeah? You enjoyed getting hate-fucked by him, didn't you?"

You bite down on your lip, squeezing his shoulders. "So. Much," You utter.

Bucky glances around the thinning-out dance floor and looks back at you. "How about, once we're done here, I take you up to one of the rooms, and fuck you like I hate you?" He suggests, sending a shiver down your spine. "What do you say? For old time's sake?"

With a grin, and ruined panties, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him before repeating, "For old time's sake."

super long a/n incominggggg

the fucking end.

so here we are. i am so not emotionally prepared to say goodbye to real people. the past eighteen weeks have felt so, so incredible (eighteen weeks??? they went so quick omg), and exactly what peak tumblr felt like for me, back in the method acting and suburban pleasure days. for those who have been following me for a while, you probably noticed i took an extremely long hiatus starting in about 2023, only really posting the odd one-shot here and there. real people was my first series back and . oh my God. the support was instant and overwhelming. it felt like a community again. my love for writing was reignited and, though there were one or two weeks when i hit writer's block and had to rush to get a chapter out, for the most part it genuinely felt like this series wrote itself. the storyline of actors fake dating has been sitting in my drafts for literal years. since before my marvel era. since before my anakin era. since an era none of you knew... my harry styles era. yep. i had a really weak intro drafted of a harry styles fanfic with the same concept. it was just called "real". and that was in like... 2016/17. so to be here now, almost a decade later, with a full series based on 16-year-old kinana's idea written and complete that I'm so proud of is so damn surreal. I genuinely would not have been able to write this without your love and support so thank you to everyone who commented and reblogged and sent me lovely messages week in and week out. you are the reason this series exists. i hope i can continue to bring you more stories. i might take a short break from posting anything for a few weeks, work on some drafts. maybe think up a new series. and work on some old ones. i'll see you soon. i love you all.

masterlist

buy me a kofi <3

[cadencejames87]

Love these two 💗

i feel like stud would just pick smartie off like the couch, her bed, the kitchen floor idk wherever she's sitting or standing and dump her in his room whenever he's in a clingy mood

like without saying anything

he'd just walk in, pick her up and plonk her on to the bed and then plonk her

imsorry

Oh, Stud abso-fucking-lutley would, nonnie. If you're in the middle of something on your laptop, he'll make sure it's saved and set it aside before picking you up. And, yes, not a word as he carries you.

The first time he dumped you on his bed like that, you tried to ask what was going on. He just moved beside you and held you close. You ran your fingers through his hair and you do that each time now because it makes him relax more.

And on the clingy days, he doesn't like positions where he can't see you or hold you close. Anyone who says missionary is boring hasn't experienced those deep thrusts from Bucky as he holds you against him, alternating between deep kisses and loving gazes. It's his mission to get you off more than once, all while making sure his lips, hands or both are on you.

He doesn't let go after either. You should've known how cuddly he would be some days after sex since he loved to cuddle with you before. Still, you ask what's going on.

"Just wanted you close, Smartie."

"My room is right over there," you teased.

"Too far away."

Maybe you'll let him convince you to move into his room after all.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[cadencejames87]

Yes, Bucky, you did make our night a bit better. Would have been nice if you asked for our number 🤭

Hit to the Head

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn't think he needs medical attention after a hit to the head, but he's glad he met you.

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Meet cute (of sorts?), possible concussion, mention of HYRDA, team dynamic, humor, Bucky's POV, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?) and he's smitten.

A/N: A new AU (as if I need more) inspired by this wonderful nonnie. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411 (and thanks for the assurance on the medical discussion), but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn't need medical attention. That was what he told himself, and he said the same thing to the team after he took a hard hit to the head. But he made the mistake of telling Bob that he admittedly felt a little dizzy, who then told Yelena, who then demanded that he go to the hospital. Not only did she demand that he go, they all went and were currently hanging out in the lobby to make sure he was okay. 

It was a sweet gesture, if not a wasted one. 

He took a hit to the head. So what? He experienced much worse when it came to his head and he was a super soldier for God's sake, so he’d heal just fine. It was a bit cocky to think like that but others needed help more than he did and he wasn't in the mood for anyone to inspect him or ask questions. 

At least he wasn't until he saw your face. 

“Hi,” you smiled, pulling back the curtain to give him some privacy. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

He opened his mouth to say he hadn't waited long at all, but no sound came out. Thank God he wasn't hooked up to a heart monitor because it would've picked up on the accelerated rate when you smiled at him again. He almost forgot to breathe before his body reminded him that he needed oxygen. No one should look as beautiful as you in medical scrubs or under the harsh hospital lighting. He wondered if he looked okay despite the blood and dirt on his clothes. 

Wait, why did it matter what he looked like? He wasn't there to flirt with or impress you. There was no reason for him to sit up straighter or flex his right arm. There sure as hell wasn't any reason to run his fingers through his hair to get the tangles out. It was a hospital visit, not a date. 

You wore a name tag, but introduced yourself before taking a look at his chart. “I understand you took a pretty hard hit to the head, Mr. Barnes.”

His voice came out huskier than he anticipated when he said, “Call me Bucky.” Clearing his throat he added, “If you consider a slab of concrete to the head hard, then yeah, but at least my head didn't split open.”

He felt the need to assure you he was fine when concern crossed your beautiful features. “I’m very thankful your head didn't split open, Bucky.” He liked the way you said his name. “But a concrete slab to the head is no joke.”

“You should see the other guy,” he joked, making you giggle. Was he funny or were you only laughing for his benefit? “But seeing the other guy wouldn't matter anyway since you won't let me leave without an exam,” he guessed. Even if he didn't believe he needed one. 

It wasn't just his belief that he was fine. Most didn't know it, but every now and then hospitals made him feel like he was back at HYDRA, ready to be strapped to a chair to await his next form of torture or to be experimented on. He wouldn't say he was afraid, but there was discomfort. Enough to make it feel like the walls were slowly closing in. 

With a deep breath he thought instead of his wonderful treatment in Wakanda and reminded himself that he was safe, free. It helped the next breath come easier. He then looked at your face where he only saw concern and compassion. You weren't going to hurt him. You were there to help. 

“Well, I wouldn't be a very good nurse if I just let you walk out, would I?” you gently smiled. 

He managed a smile for you because you weren't just doing your job. You also seemed kind. “I guess not.”

He could get through a simple exam. 

Bucky inhaled, detecting a hint of something sweet under the sterile surroundings as you checked his heart beat. It was so subtle that he wouldn't have been able to pick up on it if it weren't for his heightened senses. He almost leaned into you before you pulled away, and thank God for that. Would he have been able to blame it on his head if he did?

“I don't have a concussion,” he blurted out. 

“Is that right?” He swore there was amusement in your tone when you shone a light in each of his eyes. “I imagine you're somewhat familiar with them in your line of work.”

“You can say that,” he said. He had his fair share of hits to the head, and helped his teammates get through injuries. “No nausea, no stiffness or imbalance.”

He didn't mention the dizziness since he didn't want to stay longer than he needed to. 

“Any issues with your memory?” you asked. 

He smirked a little. “That's a bit of a loaded question.”

“Can you tell me what day it is and what hospital you're at?” you asked. 

He answered the questions with ease. He also spelled “world” backwards when you asked him to. “See? I’m fine,” he said. 

“Your vitals are normal. Pupils reactive. But-”

“Look, I appreciate you checking me out,” he cut you off, keeping the bite out of his voice because he refused to snap at you. “But I don't want to waste your time.”

Bucky hated that he was trying to rush out when you were only trying to help, but he could hear people in the other rooms even as he tried to block it out. They were in pain, struggling. They needed you more than he did. 

“And I appreciate that you're thinking of my time, but it’s my job and I wouldn't feel comfortable with you leaving without completing my exam,” you said, taking a closer look at him. It wasn't concern he saw in your eyes now, but understanding. “You're not exactly a fan of hospitals, are you?”

The question took him by surprise. How did you guess? “Not exactly,” he replied, choosing not to elaborate on that and you were thoughtful enough not to push. Just a sympathetic nod, which he appreciated. “But the work you and everyone else in the medical field does? It's incredible. Thank you.”

In his eyes, people like you were the real heroes. You didn't just face battles, you faced pandemics and life changing events. You risked your lives, saw the best and worst of people, and how many thanked you in return? And from the little time he knew you he could sense the love and dedication to your job and patients. He respected that. 

“Thank you. And thank you for all that you do, too,” you said sincerely. The compliment had the corner of his lip tugging in a smile. “I know you want to get out of here, but I am here to help. If you're fine, great. If not, please, let me help you.”

He tried to look anywhere but at you. It unnerved him that you got under his skin with so few words and he wondered for a second if that hit to the head did more damage than he thought. “I feel a little dizzy, but that’s all,” he admitted, and he felt better by doing so. 

You put a hand over his, little currents of electricity shooting up his arm. “Thank you for telling me,” you whispered, like it was your little secret. “Since you are feeling dizzy, I would like you to stay for observation.”

Bucky sighed. “How long do I have to stay?”

“As long as everything is stable and there are no new or worsening conditions, you’ll likely be discharged within an hour or two,” you replied. He almost argued that he healed from injuries faster thanks to the serum, but that wasn't too long. Better safe than sorry. At least it wasn't a headscan. “Would you like some water? I can get you a snack, too.”

The snack and drink were likely to make sure he could keep them down. “Sure, thanks,” he whispered. 

“Sorry that you’re stuck with me checking on you for the next hour or so,” you said. 

Bucky’s smile grew before he chuckled. “You won't hear me complaining,” he promised. 

Hell, he'd probably fake an injury just to see you again, or at least ask for you if he ever had to come back to the hospital for any reason. He wondered if you were single. You weren't wearing a wedding band or an engagement ring. That didn't necessarily mean-

“I’m single,” you said quickly.

He glanced at you before his eyes went wide. Shit, he said some of that out loud? “Oh, well, that’s…” He wasn't sure what to say. Should he apologize? “Nice.”

He grimaced. Nice? What was wrong with him? Maybe he had a concussion after all. 

You looked at him, your smile soft and easy. He either wasn't the first patient to make a fool out of himself like that or you were being nice. “I’ll be back shortly, but buzz if you need anything.”

“I will,” he said, his finger itching to push the remote the second you left him alone.

He leaned back in the bed and tried to make himself comfortable while he slowly looked around. How was it that the room seemed darker, as if you took a bit of the light and warmth with you? He shook his head slowly and carefully. It was a ridiculous thought. 

“Observation for an hour or two. You okay sticking around so you can drive me back?” he messaged Yelena. 

Yelena messaged back almost immediately. “Everyone is staying. Even Walker.”

He scoffed, but there was a smile behind it. “Not that you need my permission, but you can punch him if he steps out of line.” Yeah, John was still an asshole, but they did work together and he was trying. Some days. 

He perked up when you came back with a cup of water and a snack. “You doing okay?” you asked. 

“Since you left a minute or two ago, yeah,” he teased. 

“Were you a sarcastic guy before the hit to the head, or is this a new side to you?” you teased back. 

“Oh, the sass has always been there,” he said, taking a sip once you handed the drink over. “Better to be smart-ass than a dumbass, right?”

Why was he talking so much?

“So much better,” you smiled, going to the small computer to type something in. He tried not to stare as your fingers flew across the keyboard. He could always blame it on his head if you caught him. “I’ll be back in just a bit, but-”

“Buzz if I need you. I know,” he smiled. 

“At least there isn't too much sass in your tone,” you joked before you left him alone once again. 

If he didn't know any better he would think you were flirting with him, but you were just being a friendly nurse. 

He also tried not to eavesdrop when he heard you assisting others, but your voice drew his attention and he hung on your every word. You were professional, yet personal, showing each patient expert care. You lightly scolded an older gentleman who hadn't listened to you, which brought a smile to Bucky’s face when the man apologized and didn't give you any trouble after that. It was a delicate balance to be kind and assertive and you did it well. 

“You are something,” he said to himself. 

For the next hour or so Bucky didn't say much when you checked on him, but you had his undivided attention, his eyes following you wherever you went. He wanted to find excuses to keep you there and possibly make small talk, but it felt wrong when there were other patients who needed your attention. He caught that sweet scent again whenever you were close to him. Alluring, captivating. He tried to figure out if it was a body wash or just you. 

Something he noticed and tried not to was that your heart raced faster when you were near him. Maybe there was a slight chance that you were attracted to him? Beyond being a friendly nurse, maybe the possible attraction was why you kept smiling at him. He wanted to believe so. He wanted to feel your hand on his hand again. The brief touch had him wanting more, which was crazy. 

And before Bucky knew it, it was time to leave. 

“Vitals still look good. No change in symptoms,” you confirmed after he said the dizziness had subsided and he didn't feel at all nauseous after the snack. “Do you have someone to drive you home?” you asked. 

“Yeah, I have some friends here,” he answered. Even if he wasn't dizzy there was no way they'd let him drive after that. 

“Try to take it easy for the next 24-48 hours. If there are new symptoms or if the dizziness gets worse, you should return to the hospital,” you told him. “Other than that, I think you're good to go,” you smiled, but it didn't look as bright as before. 

Were you disappointed that he had to leave? Bucky was disappointed, but what could he do? He had no excuse to stay. Ironic how he was itching to leave when he got there when he now wanted a reason to stick around. 

“Thanks.” He grabbed his jacket after slowly getting to his feet, your gaze lingering on him when he slipped it on. 

“Why don't I walk you back to the lobby?” you offered. 

“Oh, you don't have to do that,” he said, regretting it since it sounded like a brush off and that wasn't his intention. “But if you wouldn't mind?”

Your face lit up, at least he thought it did. “I don't mind at all.”

Keeping a respectful distance, but not too much of a gap as you walked together, he stole a couple of glances at you. The quiet confidence in which you carried yourself was beautiful and you turned a few heads from nearby patients. He wondered if you noticed. 

He smiled to himself when he spotted his teammates sitting in the waiting area. None of them looked particularly comfortable, but they stuck it out for him. It meant a lot. 

“That group right there is my ride,” he said, not wanting you to go any closer. If they got the slightest hint that he enjoyed your company for a short time, they’d pounce. “Thanks again.”

“I’m glad I could help," you said, gazing at him. “Havd a good night. And don't forget to take it easy for the next 24-48 hours, hero.”

Hero. The nickname almost made him smile. “You have a good night, too.”

You lingered for just a moment, almost as if you expected him to say something else. When he didn't, you offered him one last smile and scanned your card to get back through the double doors. His shoulders dropped once you were out of sight. He should've said something. 

“Hello?” Yelena asked, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “What are you staring at?”

He blinked a few times. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Oh, I think he was staring at that pretty nurse,” Ava answered. 

Bucky shot the entire group a glare, his cheeks hot. “No, I wasn't,” he grumbled. Except he was. He stared at you. And by the amused looks on their faces, they all saw it. 

Yelena exchanged a look with Ava before they both smirked. “Yes, you were. Do you like the nurse?”

Bucky’s fists curled. He was not having this conversation after a hit to the head. “Can we leave?”

“It’s okay to stare or have a crush. She’s a beautiful woman.” Alexei clapped a hand on his shoulder. “She would be lucky to date the Winter Soldier.”

A growl escaped before Bucky could stop it. Yes, you were beautiful. Did he need Alexei to point that out? And he didn't have a crush. How could he? 

“When was the last time you went on a date?” Ava asked. 

Bucky took a deep breath. He really didn't want to talk about this. “Does it matter?” he asked. 

“Ask her out! I drive you for your date!” Alexei offered, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll set the mood. You see.”

Yelena pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered, “Dad, stop.”

Bucky shook his head and shut his eyes, wishing he could teleport himself out of there. “Yes, please, stop.”

“Is your head okay?” Bob asked, making him open his eyes. Of course he was concerned with his pain, and Bucky was glad for the change of topic. 

“I’m fine,” Bucky assured him. There was nothing for him to worry about. “I just need to take it easy for the next day or so.”

John stretched his back once he stood up. “If you really want to see that nurse again I can make sure you get another hit to the head.”

Bucky’s eyes turned cold. “I’m not a killer anymore, but I may make an exception if you try anything.”

John held his hands up, but still had a smirk on his face before Yelena shot him a look. “A small injury could bring you back here.”

“No one is injuring me to bring me back here,” he announced. Everyone looked disappointed except for Bob. “What, you all want me to get hurt?”

Why did he decide to join this team again?

“No, we just want you to see the nurse again,” Ava said.

“Let’s go,” he ordered. 

As the group left, Bucky snuck one last look over his shoulder. You were a good nurse, and you made his night better. A small part of him hoped he made your night a little better, too. And while he certainly didn't want more injuries, a part of him did if only to bring him back to you.

So, what injury is Bucky getting so he can see you again? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

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[cadencejames87]

😳🤭

Since we see this mentioned in Game Nights, what does it take for Bucky to stab John and how does the team react?

That is an excellent question, Cole! I'm so glad you asked.

Don't Look or Touch

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky isn't having a good day and John suffers the consequences.

Word Count: Over 2.4k

Warnings: Stabbing (yes, Bucky stabs John), arguing, humor, kissing, implied smut, Thunderbolts spoilers, we love Bob, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: We have Not Exactly a Secret, Game Nights, and now this for our Tower Shenanigans. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411 (and thanks for the inspo!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wasn't in a good mood today.  He claimed he didn’t need as much sleep as the average person, but he still needed to get some shut eye and he hadn’t slept well the night before. Too many things were running through his head. You wished he woke you up to talk or help take his mind off things, but you knew he hadn’t wanted to disturb your rest. Had the roles been reversed he would’ve wanted you to wake him up first thing. 

“I’m your girlfriend, Bucky. If something is bothering you, it bothers me,” you reminded him. “So, please, wake me up next time, okay?”

It didn’t matter how big or small of an issue it was, you’d help him through anything and everything.

“You need more sleep than I do,” he tried to argue, a ghost of a smile on his face when you narrowed your eyes. 

“I can always catch a nap later,” you said.

“If you say so,” he said, sounding in better spirits than he had moments ago.

But that didn’t last when he started fighting with Sam via text. He didn’t like fighting with his friends and it wore on him as the day went on. You saw it in how he carried himself. If that weren’t enough, Alexei accidentally shot a paint gun in the common room and hit Bucky’s thigh. The flare in his nostrils told you he was two seconds away from losing his shit when John laughed.

You half expected Bucky to punch John, but he silently got to his feet and went to change. “So sorry!” Alexei called after him, also leaving the room.

“Did you have to laugh?” you asked John. Sure, you all gave him a hard time, but he dished it out as well and it was clear that Bucky wasn’t in the best mood.

John shrugged, not at all phased. “He’ll live.”

“You won’t if you keep pissing him off,” you teased, going to get Bucky’s jacket while you waited for him to come back. 

Bucky returned a minute later, somehow looking more pissed off. Maybe it was because John scooted closer to you once you sat back down. As much as you adored Bucky’s signature grumpy stare, this was different. That look was on his face because of his bad mood. Your heart went out to him, and what kind of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t try to cheer him up? 

“Hey,” you smiled, holding out a hand so Bucky could help you to your feet. You gave him a quick kiss once you were close enough and handed him his jacket. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“A ride?” he asked, closing his eyes when you brushed his hair back.

“Yeah, a ride,” you smiled. As much as you both loved being in the tower, he needed to get out and you were more than happy to join him. “And maybe we can stop off at that bakery you love?”

Bucky’s eyes lit up. Between a ride with you and stopping off to get a treat, he’d be in a much better mood. “Let’s go.”

“Hang tight for just a minute. Just need to grab something,” you said, sneaking in another kiss before you headed toward your room. You wondered how much Bucky would argue if you tried to pay for the treats. He was always such a gentleman when it came to-

“FUCK!”

You stopped at the sound of John’s loud and piercing scream. It wouldn’t have been the first time he yelled, but that was typically done out of anger or frustration. This scream, however, sounded like pain.

“Oh, shit,” you mumbled, rushing back to the common room.

Your eyes went right to your boyfriend since he was always at the forefront of your mind. You took a step forward when he locked eyes with you, the coldness in the blues almost making you shiver. He happened to be right beside John who was a bit more pale than usual and gripping his arm like a lifeline. Your mouth fell open when you realized the former Captain America had a knife in his hand. And he wasn’t holding it, oh, no. Bucky’s knife was through his hand. You knew it was Bucky’s knife because you bought it for him. 

What the fuck happened, and why did that excite you?

Ava phased beside you, likely drawn by John’s scream. Yelena and Bob came in seconds later though Yelena didn’t seem too concerned. “What are you…” she trailed off with a snort. “That’s not good.”

Ava sighed. “And we just got the blood out of the sofa from the last incident.”

“No fucking shit this isn’t good! And who gives a shit about the blood on the sofa!” John snapped, screaming again when Bucky yanked the knife out. 

“You’ll live,” he muttered. 

Your eyes went wide. Super soldier hearing and all, had Bucky heard John mutter his earlier comment? “What happened?” you asked. You had only been out of the room for a few seconds. What possibly happened during that time to cause this?

John scrambled to find something to wrap his hand with. “Your fucking boyfriend stabbed me!” 

“Yeah, America’s Asshole, I stabbed you.” Sitting back on the sofa, Bucky got a cloth out of his pocket to wipe his knife. He stabbed John. He really did it. But why? “And you have the serum. You’ll be fine.”

You made the mistake of looking at Ava who had a smirk on her face. It didn’t do you any good to look at Yelena either since she also looked pleased. Only Bob looked concerned. And where the hell was Alexei?

“Okay, Bucky,” you began, trying to keep the laughter out of your voice because you had to be the mature one. “I know you threatened to stab him during Uno.”

“He put down Draw Four…” He sneered at John. “FOUR times.”

“I know, I know. Dick move. And I know I threatened to stab him because he raised his voice at Bob because, well, we don't yell at Bob.” You gave Bob a smile when he dipped his head. “But-”

“He’s lucky I didn’t cut this tongue out,” your boyfriend growled.

You tried hard not to whimper, which was tough since the sound was sexy as hell. “But why-”

“You can still cut out his tongue,” Yelena encouraged, taking out one of her own knives. “Allow me.”

You put your hand out while John took a few steps back. “No, Yelena. Not today,” you said, which earned you a pout in response before you turned your attention back to Bucky. “Just tell us why you stabbed him, please.”

“He talked about putting his hands on your ass!” Bucky snapped, wincing when he realized how loudly he said it.

You could hear a pin drop from the silence that followed. Your eyes darted between Bucky and John, seeing the mixture of anger and discomfort. There was no way John was dumb enough to say something like that in front of your boyfriend. Right?

“He what?” Yelena asked for you.

“Ew,” Ava whispered. 

“But she… she’s not your girlfriend,” Bob added.

“I didn’t say I’d put my hands on your ass!” John defended himself, taking a breath when everyone stared at him. “Look, all I said was ‘I’d never leave my bed if I could get my hands on an ass like that’ and that’s it! That’s all!”

You were thankful you didn’t take a drink of something because you would’ve spit it out. As admittedly smart as John could be when it came to missions, he could also be an idiot. “Bucky, put the knife down,” you ordered when his grip tightened on the handle. You couldn’t have him stabbing him again. 

Though it was kind of hot that Bucky stabbed someone in your honor. 

“I might stab his other hand,” he said. 

“Do it,” Yelena encouraged. 

John sputtered when Ava nodded in agreement. “What the fuck?”

“Okay, one, Bucky, we both know I’d never let John touch my ass. Sorry, but. No,” you said, shrugging at the bleeding agent. Your ass was off limits to him. “Two, it doesn't sound like he said he was going to put his hands on my ass.”

“I don't care.” Bucky carefully inspected his knife. “As far as he’s concerned, you don’t have an ass.”

The girls scoffed with you and you weren't sure if you should've felt flattered or offended. “Okay, old man, so I have no ass now? Do I not have tits either?”

You held your breath when Bucky slowly got to his feet, his jaw clenched. It wasn't fair how hot and bothered that stance made you. “Did he look at your tits?” he asked in a low voice.

John quickly shook his head out of the corner of your eye. You felt for the guy, but you weren’t going to lie. “He may have glanced at them when I leaned over the other day.”

“Oh, when you were wearing that black top?” Ava asked, humming when you nodded. “Oh, yeah. He looked.”

“What the fuck, Ava?!” John shouted. “You looked, too!”

“I didn’t look,” Bob said immediately, his hands up in surrender. He was too pure for this world.

Bucky swung his head toward John. “Forget your other hand. Let’s see if that serum helps you grow your eyes back.”

Oh, shit. Maybe you shouldn't have said anything. “No! No more stabbing today!” You moved to block Bucky’s path. The mood he was in, you had no doubt he’d stab him again if he got the chance. “I appreciate you defending my honor and I always will, but we are going for a ride. Now.”

The former assassin pouting shouldn’t have been as adorable as it was. “But he-”

“You didn’t sleep well, you’re in a bad mood, and you need a breather,” you gently said, framing his face so he’d only see you. Your touch took most of the anger away. “Please, let’s go. We can go right to bed when we get back.”

Sex, cuddling, sleep, all of it, you’d give him whatever he needed later.

Bucky huffed, but put his knife away. He recognized that your tone wasn’t one to argue with. “He better not look again or try to touch you.”

“He won’t,” you said for John, looking over your shoulder to glare at him.

“Jesus, it was meant to be a compliment,” he told you, daring to glance at Bucky. “You have a good looking girlfriend, okay?!” 

“Stop talking,” you begged when Bucky tensed up. You had just calmed him down.

“If you want to compliment him or her, tell them how murderous they look,” Yelena suggested, looking to the others for support. “That’s cool, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ava said.

“Um, Bucky?” Bob asked. 

“Yeah?” he answered, slipping an arm around you. 

Bob swallowed a little. “If she looks nice, am I allowed to say so? Or should I just avoid looking at her?”

You giggled. Bob deserved the whole world. “You can say whatever you want,” you replied. Bucky would agree. 

“Okay,” he smiled a little. “I just. I-I don't want to get stabbed.”

“No one will stab you, Bob,” Yelena promised, ever the protector. 

John looked around the room and asked, “So, Bob can say whatever he wants, but I can’t?” 

“Yes,” everyone answered in unison. Bob wasn’t an asshole like John.

“Now apologize to each other so we can leave,” you said. The longer you stayed, the bigger the chance that Bucky would snap again.

The men stubbornly refused to look at each other, like children being scolded after a fight. John broke first when you cleared your throat. “Sorry for complimenting your girlfriend, I guess.”

“Sorry for not stabbing both of your hands,” Bucky mumbled.

“And we’re leaving now. Try to behave while we’re gone,” you announced, pulling your boyfriend away. Chances were that they’d start arguing over dinner or dish duty. “I can’t believe it.”

“What, that I stabbed him?” Bucky asked, grinding his teeth. “He gets under my skin.”

They were teammates now, but it didn’t get rid of the bad blood or the past. You sympathized with that. “I know he does, and I can’t believe that it took this long for you to stab him, but maybe try not to do that again?”

His warm laughter brought a smile to your face. “I’m surprised it took this long, too, and I’ll try not to again, but I’m not sorry that you were the tipping point.”

Your cheeks warmed. “Bucky Barnes stabbed a man because of me.” You weren’t exactly sorry that you were the tipping point either. “In his defense, my ass does look good in these pants,” you smirked.

Bucky waited a beat before he smacked your ass, making you shriek. “He still isn’t allowed to look or touch.”

Hadn’t you made it clear earlier that you’d never allow John to touch you? Even if you weren’t Bucky’s girlfriend, that would never happen. “So possessive, but I love that about you,” you teased.

His eyes softened, the look making your heart race. “I’m not too much?” 

Your gaze softened, too. “You’ll never be too much,” you assured him, almost to the elevator when Alexei waltzed by in his robe.

“What did I miss?” he asked.

“I stabbed John,” Bucky answered.

The Red Guardian looked stricken. “And I missed it?”

The last thing you heard before you and Bucky stepped into the elevator was John yelling, “What the fuck?!”

“Right to bed when we get back?” Bucky smiled, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it.

“Right to bed,” you smiled back.

He pulled you against him to give you a deep and thorough kiss, one that left you breathless and yearning for more. “And thank you.”

“For what?” you asked breathlessly.

“For trying to cheer me up,” he whispered, touching your cheek. “And for being mine.”

You leaned into his touch, thrilled to be his. “Thank you for being mine, too,,” you said, hoping the ride and treat would make him feel much better before you went to bed. Maybe tomorrow he could hash things out with Sam. And maybe you’d look through the footage later so you could see for yourself that Bucky stabbed John. 

And maybe, just maybe, you’d make a copy of the footage for Bucky if he ever needed a laugh after a bad day.

So, did John deserve that? What other shenanigans do we think this group gets up to? ! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

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