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evansbuckle · 12 days ago

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I WILL ALWAYS BE SAT FOR COLLEGE!BUCKY X TUTOR!READER aaaaLLLWAAAYAYYYYSSSSSS

Dive - Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: Ugh I've been so busy with schoolwork and maybe this is the only fic I'll be able to finish in the next 3 weeks or so (i hope not tho). As always this fic is based on the songs in my bucky playlist. Pairing: college athlete! fuckboy(?)! bucky x tutor! reader (can you guys guess my fav trope?) Summary: Being halfway in love with Bucky is hard when your worlds don't collide. So you try to fit in more in his world by going to a party when asks you to, but it becomes more apparent now than ever that you don't belong. Word Count: 3.7k Warnings: longing, slight angst, soft! bucky, kinda hurt/comfort, reader thirsting over bucky, reader being a bit quirky, uncertainty, no use of y/n, no thunderbolts spoiler. Playlist:

Oh, maybe I came on too strong

Maybe I waited too long

Maybe I played my cards wrong

Oh, just a little bit wrong

Baby I apologize for it

You tap your fingers against the table, an absent rhythm that matches the way your thoughts are tumbling over themselves. The café is warm, soft light pooling over the tabletop, and yet your palms are cold. Why do your nerves always betray you like this?

You weren’t good at this. At pretending like you aren’t halfway in love with Bucky Barnes, if even halfway.

The door swings open, and you look up too quickly, too eagerly. He catches the motion, eyes crinkling just slightly in amusement. You scramble to look casual, adjusting your jacket, moving your coffee cup an inch to the left like that’s something normal people do.

Bucky just shakes his head, grinning as he slides into the seat across from you. "You're cute when you overthink," he murmurs, and your heart stumbles over itself like your hands did a second ago.

“What do you mean?” You pick up your drink. The empty drink. The one you finished ten minutes ago. Smooth.

Bucky slides into the seat across from you, his gaze settling with easy amusement. He’s biting back a smirk. “You’re acting real normal," he teases.

You scoff, or tried to at least. “I am normal. We’re just doing our usual topic, right?”

"Sure," he muses, tipping his head slightly.

——

I could fall or I could fly

Here in your aeroplane

And I could live, I could die

Hanging on the words you say It started when coach Alexei asked you for a favor. A little academic charity for a star athlete who, according to everyone, just needed someone to "keep him on track." You didn’t expect much beyond forced study sessions, maybe a few half-hearted attempts at getting him to care about coursework in between practices.

But Bucky had surprised you.

To be quite honest, you half expected to hate Bucky. He’s known as a fuckboy, and he’s broken countless hearts. So were you really at fault for thinking that he’s just some kind of jerk who doesn’t care about anyone but himself? Not really, but that thought was proven to be wrong when you got to really know Bucky.

You don’t really know about how men should treat women. After all, you’ve only dated one person before. And that guy cheated on you twice, and blamed you for it.

So no, you don’t really know how men are supposed to treat women.

You just know how Bucky treats you.

He listens.

At first, your conversations never strayed beyond class material. But even then, he listened, really listened, which surprised you. You’d expected him to zone out, to fake interest just to get through the session.

But Bucky didn’t check his phone mid-sentence. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t roll his eyes or act like he had somewhere better to be. He met your gaze. He asked follow-up questions. He made you feel like what you were saying actually mattered.

It threw you off at first, how attentive he was. You kept waiting for the catch. Maybe he was just trying to butter you up before a big exam, or maybe this was just another version of the charm everyone warned you about. But it never came.

And little by little, the conversations began to shift. You started to get to know him, and he started to remember things about you too. Like how you don’t like the smell of coffee, which is why he doesn’t drink coffee on Wednesdays, your tutoring day. Or how you always eat sweet snacks when you’re stressed, so he brings some when it’s nearing exams season.

It was in the quiet moments that you began to notice things about him. Like the way he chewed the inside of his cheek when he was concentrating. Or how he’d tilt his head when he was confused.

You also noticed the girls that watched him when he walked by. The way their eyes followed him down the hallway, the way they whispered to each other behind barely concealed smiles. You saw the way some of them lingered after class, trying to catch his attention with light laughs and playful touches. And you saw the way he smiled and flirted back at them.

Bucky is a sweetheart. He always has been, and he always will be. And maybe that’s the problem. He’s sweet to everyone.

He holds doors open. He offers his jacket without thinking twice. He remembers names of people he met only once. And he never makes anyone feel stupid for not understanding something right away. That’s just who he is.

So when he’s kind to you, part of you wonders if it’s just habit. If you’re reading too much into something that isn’t meant to mean anything. You wonder if this is the reason why he got the “heartbreaker”label in the first place, because he’s kind.

Too kind.

Because when someone like Bucky Barnes looks at you like you’re the only person in the room, even just for a split second, it’s easy to believe it.

Easy to fall.

So you let yourself hope a little. Hope that you’re the only one he texts after a long day —

Don’t forget to eat tonight. You always forget when you’re overwhelmed.

And you hope (more than you probably should) that you’re the only one he makes space for in his schedule. Not because a professor asked him to. But because he wants to.

The only one he calls “smart girl” with that low, proud smile tugging at his lips. Like you mean something more.

You hope that the way he leans toward you when you talk isn’t how he leans toward everyone. That the way his voice softens when he says your name isn’t automatic. That when his knee brushes yours, he does notice, and he leaves it there on purpose.

Because Bucky Barnes is sweet to everyone.

But you want to believe he’s gentle with you. Specifically.

Deliberately.

And maybe that’s naive. Maybe he’s just kind, effortlessly, carelessly kind. And none of it means what you want it to mean.

But when you reread his message for the third time, when you show up and he’s already there, waiting, when he hands you your favorite snack without being asked, you let yourself hope.

Just a little.

That maybe, just maybe, you’re the only exception.

———

And I've been known to give my all

And jumping in harder than

Ten thousand rocks on the lake

You don’t fall in love often. In fact, you only fell in love once. And the experience made you careful.

Because you’ve seen first hand what you’d do for love. Even when it hurt. Even when it wasn’t returned the way you needed. Even when it meant shrinking yourself just to keep someone else comfortable.

You bent until you were unrecognizable. Forgave things that should’ve never been. And stayed longer than you should’ve, hoping that things would get better.

You loved hard. And it cost you.

So now, you walk slowly. You check for signs. You second-guess the warmth in someone’s voice, the meaning behind their smile. Especially his smile.

Because Bucky Barnes has history. A long one. With countless of girls in smudged lipstick and dreamy eyes. Fast flings. Short chapters. Open-and-shut hearts.

So it’s hard not to wonder: what does someone like you mean to someone like him?

Because the stories don’t exactly paint a picture of someone who sticks around. And yet, when he’s with you, there’s a quiet difference. A stillness that wasn’t there before.

But questions don’t disappear just because you want them to. They sit there, tangled up in every glance and every word unsaid. Still unanswered.

———

You're a mystery

I have traveled the world, there's no other like you

No one, what's your history?

Do you have a tendency to lead some people on?

'Cause I heard you do, mmh

It’s hard to convince yourself that Bucky doesn’t have feelings for you when you spend half your days daydreaming about him and overanalyzing his texts for the 20th time in a row. But it’s also hard to convince yourself that he’d choose you out of all the girls that are lining up at his feet.

Your worlds don’t exactly collide. You get to hear feel the difference when he talks about what happened at the parties he went last Saturday, asking you to come with him just this once. He always spurts out something along the lines of Come on doll, just this once? You never have fun. You need to relax.

Even if you don’t hear it, you’d see it when you walk with him on campus. The way heads turn when he passes, how girls smile just a little too wide, flipping their hair, biting their lips. Some are bold enough to walk right up to him, completely ignoring you beside him.

“Hey, Bucky,” one of them says, hand brushing his arm lightly, eyes doing that slow scan from his face to his chest. “You never texted me back.”

Or “You still owe me a drink, remember?” with a teasing smirk and a wink that makes your stomach twist.

He just laughs it off, saying “Sorry, sweetheart, been busy,” or “Did I? My bad,” followed by that grin. And all the while, you shrink a little more beside him.

It’s not jealousy, not exactly. It’s this aching feeling that you’re just… background. That you don’t belong in the glittering, easy world he moves through. You’re the girl with ink-stained fingers and mismatched socks, the one who prefers quiet cafes to crowded parties, novels to nightclubs.

You wish you didn’t feel so small beside him. Wish you didn’t shrink into the shadows every time someone looked right past you to get to him. Wish, just once, you could stand beside him and feel like you belonged there. So when he turns to you this time, saying “So, is this the week I finally can convince you to come with me to the party?” You open your mouth, ready to say no, ready to remind him that crowded rooms and flashing lights aren’t your thing. That you wouldn’t know how to blend in, wouldn’t know how to be anything other than the quiet, unnoticed girl beside him.

But this time, the words don’t come. Instead, you think about the way people look at him, like he belongs everywhere, like the world molds itself around him. And for once, you wonder what it would be like to step into that space, even if only for a night.

Would it really be so terrible?

Would you really feel so out of place?

So you let out a breath, glancing up at him, and the smirk he wears softens just enough to make your pulse stumble. "One time," you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

His grin sharpens, triumphant, like he knew you’d cave eventually.

"That’s my girl."

And suddenly, the party doesn’t feel quite so impossible.

——

And I've been known to give my all

And lie awake, every day

Don't know how much I can take

Okay, credits to Bucky, the party isn’t so bad after all. He introduced you to his friends, Steve and Sam, which were welcoming in a way that made it easier to breathe.

"Didn’t think you had it in you, Barnes," Sam says, nudging Bucky’s shoulder. "Our girl here doesn’t seem like the party type."

Our girl.

The words stick in your chest, warm and unexpected.

Bucky just grins, glancing down at you. "Told you she just needed the right crowd."

And somehow, surrounded by laughter, by the buzz of conversation that feels less suffocating now, you start to believe that maybe you’re not entirely out of place here. The warmth lingers for a while.

The easy laughter, the way Sam and Steve talk to you like you’ve always been part of the group, the way Bucky’s hand ghosts over your lower back whenever someone nudges too close, it’s all enough to make you believe you could stay.

So maybe you got too comfortable. You just don’t realize how much until the world tilts slightly when you stand. “You okay, doll?” You glance up. Bucky stands close, the party lights casting soft shadows over his face, making the sharp cut of his jaw look even more unfair than usual. His brow furrows slightly, concern flickering behind his eyes, but all you can focus on is his hand.

It’s at your waist, steady, grounding, not that it’s helping, because if anything, it’s worse. His palm is warm, the heat bleeding through your shirt, his fingers curling just slightly like he already knows you’d stumble if he let go.

It’s ridiculous, really, the way your pulse trips over itself just because Bucky Barnes is looking at you like this.

Just because his voice is this deep.

Just because his thumb presses ever so slightly against your hip.

So you try to focus on something else, you drag your gaze away from his thumb and falls to.. his lips. Soft, curved into something dangerous. Just slightly parted, inviting you to kiss- Yeah, maybe you’re a little drunk. "I—yeah. Just need some water," you manage, but it doesn’t sound convincing. His eyes flick over you, slow and assessing, like he doesn’t quite believe you either. "You sure?"

And damn him, because his thumb presses just a little firmer against your hip, like he’s testing the steadiness of your stance. You inhale sharply, ignoring the way your pulse betrays you completely, and step back just enough to pull yourself out of the gravitational pull that is Bucky Barnes and his hands and his voice and his everything.

"I’m sure."

You turn too quickly, squeezing through the crowd toward the kitchen, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck, ignoring the way your skin still tingles where his fingers had been.

You stayed in the kitchen for a while, trying to calm yourself down, even though nothing seems to be working. The cool air in the kitchen should help, but it doesn’t. Neither does the water you sip slowly, hoping the chill will settle something inside you. But the ghost of his touch lingers.

Then, his voice.

You hear it from just outside the doorway, low and easy, "Doll—"

You turn instinctively, heart skipping.

But just when he was about to come in, other voices cut in. You don’t register them at first. The thrum of the party is too loud, your pulse beating too harshly in the silence of the kitchen. But then—

"Come on, Buck, seriously?"

It’s right outside the doorway. Close enough that the sound slips into the quiet space you’d created for yourself. You freeze.

“You’re really not gonna entertain us tonight? Just because you’re stuck with that loser chick that clings to you like a leech?”

The words sting, but not as much as the rush of heat crawling up your neck. It’s humiliating, really. To hear such cruel words come out of people who don’t really know you. But even more, because it burrows deep into something you’ve already thought about yourself. Because it feels like the truth.

So, you don’t wait. You don’t stay to hear what Bucky says in response, don’t pause to see the way his jaw tightens, the sharpness in his voice when he does shut them down. Because it doesn’t matter. Not really.

What matters is that you’re done.

Your fingers tighten around your phone as you push through the crowd, slipping past bodies that suddenly feel too close, voices that are suddenly too loud.

You need out.

You barely register the night air when you stumble outside, the chill biting at your skin, grounding you in ways nothing else had tonight.

—— So don't call me baby

Unless you mean it

Don't tell me you need me

If you don't believe it

So let me know the truth

Before I dive right into you

Bucky comes out right after you. The door clicks shut behind him, muffling the noise of the party. He steps closer, warmth lingering despite the bite of the night air. His gaze flicks over you like he’s trying to figure out just how deep the words inside hurt you.

"You shouldn’t have left like that," he murmurs, voice softer now. "Didn’t even let me shut them down properly."

You exhale sharply, gripping your phone tighter, unsure if it’s anger or embarrassment twisting in your chest. But before you can say anything—

"Come on, doll” he says, just barely above a whisper. "Talk to me."

Your breath shudders, the weight of everything crashing down at once.

You don’t fight it this time. Don’t try to swallow the sting in your throat, don’t bother blinking back the tears burning behind your eyes. You just let it break.

The first tear slips free, then another. Your shoulders shake, and you hate how weak you feel, how exposed.

“Baby,” His voice is softer now, careful, like he’s trying not to make it worse. But it does. It does because it’s confusing and it’s cruel. You don’t know what he means by calling you that. Bucky moves closer, hand lifting to wipe away the tear trailing down your cheek. His fingers are warm and comforting in the same way they hurt and break you. Because you can’t take it if he touches you like that, looks at you so gently, calling you baby without it meaning more. You pull back, sharp, sudden.

"Don’t call me that."

The words cut through the night, sharper than you meant them to be, but you mean them. Bucky’s hand lowers, his eyes searching your face. “I—“ He tries. “No, Bucky. I know you’re nice and you’re sweet and you defended me from those girls just now, but they were right. I cling onto you.” Bucky’s brows furrow, the weight of your words sinking in. His mouth opens, like he wants to say something, like he wants to argue. But you continue before he could. “I cling onto you, I make it weird. I make us weird. And you let me, because you're polite, but that’s all this is, isn’t it?”

You hate how your voice wavers. Hate that the confession burns so much. Bucky exhales sharply, shaking his head, something frustrated sparking behind his eyes. "That’s not it. You know that I need you just as m—”

“No, Bucky, don’t say things like that,” you cut in. “You can’t say things like that and expect me to not fall in love with you.” The words come out without you even realizing it. Your chest is tight, emotions making it feel suffocating. The words hang between you, sharp and trembling, like you’ve just cracked something open that can’t be forced back into place.

Bucky stills.

His breath is uneven, his gaze heavy, like he's staring straight through the layers of doubt, insecurity, everything you've tried to bury.

“You know what? Just forget it. I know you’ll never feel the same way. I’m sorry for making it awkward. I’ll just tell the coach that you don’t need me anymore so I can stop embarrassing myself, so I can—"

"Stop." The word is firm, sharper than his usual softness. Bucky steps in again, closer this time, like he's daring you to run. "You think I don’t—" He stops himself, his jaw tightening, like the words are fighting their way out of him.

"You think I don’t feel it too?" His voice is raw now, stripped bare, no hesitation, no restraint. "You think I don’t lose my damn mind every time you're near?"

Your pulse thrums wildly in your ears.

"You think I call you baby just to be nice?" His voice dips, frustration laced with something else. something deeper. "I call you that because I don’t know how to say I want you without completely losing my goddamn mind."

Your breath stutters, chest tight, thoughts spinning too fast for you to catch them. "You—" You start, but the words die in your throat. Bucky is right there, closer than he’s ever been, watching you like you might slip away again if he lets go. Your breath is uneven, your hands trembling at your sides. Bucky is right there, eyes locked on yours, and the weight of everything presses between you, suffocating in its intensity.

“Tell me the truth,” you say, daring him—begging him. “Because if I fall, if I let myself believe it, I need to know I won’t be the only one drowning.”

Bucky exhales sharply, his chest rising, falling. He looks at you like he wants to grab you, shake you, pull you in so close there’s no space left to doubt. But instead, his hand lifts—fingers grazing against your jaw, featherlight, reverent.

“You think I don’t want you?” he murmurs, his voice so quiet, so fragile, it feels like it might break apart before it reaches you. “You think I don’t feel it every goddamn day?”

Your pulse thrums wildly, but you don’t move. You don’t breathe.

“I’ve tried,” he continues, shaking his head like he’s frustrated with himself, like he’s unraveling right in front of you. “I’ve tried to hold back, tried to pretend it’s nothing, but it’s not. It never was.”

His thumb brushes against your cheek, and it’s the softest thing, the gentlest touch, but it wrecks you. Because this is it. This is what you’ve been afraid of, what you’ve been desperate for.

“I want this,” he says finally, no hesitation, no restraint. “And if you dive, I swear to you, I’m right there with you.” Slowly, Bucky moves, pressing his forehead against yours. His warmth seeps into you, into the spaces that have always felt empty.

“I want you,” he murmurs, a breath away. You don’t know how to answer because this has been everything you’ve ever wanter ever since the second you met him. It leaves you breathless, speechless. So you don’t say anything. Not in words. You lean forward, fingers curling into his jacket, holding onto him like he’s the only thing keeping you steady. And he pulls you in. Lips searching for yours in the softest way. And with the way his fingers trace the line of your jaw, a gentle caress that anchors you in the moment, you melt into him, into the warmth that seeps into your bones, into the feeling of being held, wanted. There’s no need for words now. This is the answer. This is home.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader

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evansbuckle · 12 days ago

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starry eyes - bucky barnes x reader

word count: 2.6k based on this ask. inspired by starry eyes by the weeknd. disclaimer: depictions of depression and related mental health issues based on *my* personal experience. read at your own discretion.

~~~

seeing you like this felt worse than anything hydra could ever do to him.

he knew that was a strong sentiment, but it was true.

you were his everything.

~~~

he knew what it felt like to constantly be at war with his own mind. the depression, the loneliness, the everything after he escaped hydra... it was hell on earth. how could he be expected to pick up the pieces and put himself back together? how could he be expected to just deal with all the shit going on in his head?

at times, it felt as though the physical pain they inflicted was easier than the mental pain that followed.

he hated himself for feeling that way. never in a million years would he ever go back just to escape what he felt now, but to him, it was a comfort to entertain that thought. he knew his body would endure, could endure. the physical pain was rudimentary, and being enhanced, he could handle it. it was an external pressure working to break him. he could fight it.

the mental pain? not so easy. it was much more complex than the physical torture. it all festered up inside his head, an internal pressure he couldn't ward off. he could barely understand it, let alone try to fight it.

it took years to learn that he could handle the mental pain, he could fight it. he learned what worked for him, developed a support system, and went to a new therapist far more helpful and understanding than Raynor.

~~~

when he met you, he was still working on healing. he was working on what it meant to find everyday peace within himself.

but you were something so special to him.

he wanted to know you, to make you a permanent fixture in his life.

in all his years, he'd imagined someone like you. not your appearance, not your personality, but your presence. someone he felt comfortable baring his soul to, someone he wanted to build a life with, someone he wanted to call 'my girl.'

you were the presence he dreamed of when he was young, when he imagined a life as a working man with his beautiful wife at home caring for the kids, cooking meals, eagerly awaiting his return each day.

you were the presence he dreamed of in a deep, buried part of his mind when he was hydra's weapon. you were a reprieve in all the darkness, in all the torture, in all the pain he suffered through. he saw a vision of someone who could be a rock for him, someone who wouldn't hurt him. something he could actually call his in a world where he was nothing more than property.

you were the presence he dreamed of in his slumber in all the years he spent recovering. you were but a concept he held deep in his heart, something he knew he'd never realistically have in this lifetime. he could hold you in his heart, even if he'd never be fit to find you or have you.

and then the day came when his dreams materialized in you, standing right in front of him.

the instant you met, he knew that you were what he'd dreamed of deep in his mind, yearned for deep in his soul for the last century. but he knew he had to make this decision wisely; he was still working on learning to be a person again, learning how to navigate the world on his own.

so he did the only thing he knew to do. he spoke to his therapist about it.

he was sure she would talk him out of it, that it was a bad idea for any number of reasons. except... she didn't.

she told him he was more ready than he thought.

the idea scared him. what if he was too much for you? what if his issues were too difficult, too off-putting? what if you rejected him?

he knew he would manage to go on in life if you didn't want him. but he knew that your presence was the exact one that had grounded him throughout his entire life, what he'd always longed for. he at least had to try.

so, of course, he asked you out.

~~~

Bucky Barnes was the best thing that ever happened to you.

you loved him with your entire heart. you watched in the early months of your relationship as he continued to work on himself, continued to learn how to find happiness.

eventually, he reached a point of stability, one that he hadn't achieved since before the war.

you were so glad to see him happy. you knew the work it took to rediscover oneself, even if you hadn't been through a fraction of what he had.

you yourself had been doing so well for so long. you finally felt as though you were capable of being that support system for someone else, and you weren't afraid when Bucky told you early on about the fact that he was still trying to work through things. you were there for him through all the ups and downs, constantly holding him when he needed held and pushing him when he needed pushed.

you were fine. you were a pillar of strength for him, his mental health struggles never once touching yours. you were just so happy to be his and to help him be the best version of himself.

which is why it hurt that much more when you felt yourself slipping again.

for two years you were fine. for even longer before that, before you had gotten together, you'd been fine.

perhaps that's why you refused to let yourself acknowledge it when you began to lose yourself again. perhaps you didn't want to acknowledge that you could possibly be on the brink of drowning again when you were the one who was supposed to be there for him. you couldn't let him see you falling for the fear that it might get bad again for him, too.

so you didn't let yourself think about it. as long as you didn't think about it, and continued going about your life as normal, you'd be fine.

yeah. you would be fine.

~~~

you knew better than to tell yourself that you would be fine. but when had you ever listened to the warning signs?

never.

you refused to let him see you fall. you didn't want him to see you as the girl you used to be, the girl you buried long ago. you wouldn't let him see it. you could pull yourself together again before it got bad.

right?

you put on a smile and put your best foot forward. you never frowned or cried when he was home. you made sure to keep up with every little detail about his life, his friends, his work, everything. you were the picture-perfect girlfriend.

in your opinion at the time, it was just enough for him to look past the excuses you began making. excuses to not go out, excuses to not have sex, excuses that would explain away any concerns of his that might arise.

it was like a balancing act. act like you're okay enough, and he won't see what it is you're hiding. you'll feel like yourself again soon.

but the scale kept tipping no matter how much you fought it away.

~~~

eventually, you started to falter.

he'd asked you one Saturday morning to get up and go to the farmers' market with him.

"come on, baby, it'll be fun. we haven't gone on a date in a long time. we can get pastries and coffee," he smiled at you, both of you still in bed. he tried to reach for you to bring you in close, to press a kiss to your forehead.

"not today, okay?" you told him, resisting his attempt to pull you in. you tried so hard, but you couldn't even force a reassuring smile. "next time," you offered.

"alright," he told you, "let me bring you breakfast in bed, then?"

you didn't have the heart to tell him you were too nauseous and too tired to eat or drink coffee.

he didn't think much of it at the time. sometimes you just want to sleep in and don't feel like eating early in the morning. no big deal.

~~~

you got a phone call one Friday night from a close friend of yours.

"yeah, not tonight, Bucky and I are busy," you'd told her through the phone.

"what? no, go have fun," Bucky tried to whisper you before you hung up the phone.

you waved him off.

"yeah. next time, sorry," you told her before hanging up the phone.

"what's wrong? why don't you want to go out with your friends, baby?" he asked softly, not trying to pressure you, simply asking a question.

"I'm allowed to make my own decisions, James," you practically hissed at him, standing and walking into the bedroom, slamming the door behind you. walking away from him. shutting him out.

he'd never heard you say his name with such hatred before.

it hurt his heart.

but still, he figured it was a one-off. he'd apologize for pushing, and you'd apologize for snapping. nothing to be concerned about.

~~~

he began to reach for you one evening as you started to turn out the lights.

"keep them on, baby," he told you, leaning in to press a kiss to your neck and a hand on your waist to indicate his intentions.

you flinched back, quickly flicking the light off.

"what's wrong?" he asked you in a panic.

"not tonight, okay? I have work in the morning," you told him, turning on your other side, facing away from him.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you," he whispered, hating himself all the more for making you feel uncomfortable. that's the last thing he would ever want to do.

"it's fine. night," you muttered back.

he resisted the urge to reach out to hold you close while you slept.

"goodnight. I love you," he told you earnestly.

he knew you weren't asleep yet, but he pretended you were when you didn't say it back.

~~~

eventually, it all came to a tipping point.

it was something so mundane and superficial... but it was unlike you. it was enough to set off the alarm bells in his head.

he was working on cleaning up the kitchen after lunch when he heard you yelling from the other room.

"goddamnit!" you screamed, and he went running to check on you.

"what? what happened?" he asked, and he walked in to see you standing over a spilt litter box.

"the fucking cat made a fucking mess, goddamnit!" you yelled, and he watched as you kicked the bin across the room, scaring Alpine even further.

"hey! relax!" he yelled back, stepping in front of you and putting his hands on your shoulders. "she's a cat. it was an accident, and you're scaring her," he told you angrily.

you avoided meeting his gaze. he watched as tears welled up in your eyes as you realized what you'd just done.

"I'm sorry, Bucky," you whispered, "I don't know what came over me."

the tears began falling down your face, and he pulled you in to hug him.

"it's okay, baby. it's okay. you're okay," he assured you as he held your head against his chest, letting you cry it out. "I'm here."

after a few minutes of holding you there, he'd sent you off to take a shower while he cleaned up the mess.

it all started to click together in his head. pulling away from him, from your friends, and now this little outburst?

it wasn't you. he should have fucking seen it from a mile away.

it was all so subtle, but deep down, he should have known better. he did the exact same things when he felt like he was losing himself; maybe he'd managed to forget what it was like to not know your own mind. maybe he'd thought you were invincible, your mind an impenetrable fortress.

he hated himself for thinking you couldn't be going through the same things he's been through.

he should have seen how your soul was broken, hurting, suffering.

~~~

as he walked into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for you to come out of the shower, he told himself that beating himself up over the fact that he'd been so blind didn't matter now. there was nothing he could do to change it.

all he could do was be there for you.

when you opened the bathroom door, he stood and tried pulling you into his arms, to which you stepped back and averted your eyes.

"please, baby? I... I wanna talk to you. I just wanna feel you close, please?" he pled with you.

you didn't feel worthy. you didn't feel deserving of his love, of his touch, of any of it.

but you so badly wanted it. you wanted to let him hold you, to feel his presence close, the way you hadn't in so long. so you let yourself step towards him and you let him wrap his arms around you, burying your face in his chest.

"I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner," he whispered to you.

"I'm fine, Bucky," you tried, hanging on by one single thread to keep your composure, to keep up the facade you'd already lost sight of.

"no, you're not. I want you to be able to tell me when you're not fine," he told you, his own voice breaking. "I've been where you are, you know I have. you're defeated, baby."

your resolve crumbled in an instant. that word, defeated, struck every nerve in your body. tears you'd just fought off started all over again.

he picked you up softly and laid you down in the bed next to him, keeping his arms around you tight.

you haven't let him hold you like this in so long.

"you were there when I needed someone. when I needed you. so please. let me be there for you," he whispered in your ear, running a hand through your wet hair as the water soaks into the pillow.

"I can't bring you down with me, baby," you tried to reason with him, "I can't make you responsible for-"

"I don't care. I'll make it my responsibility, I don't care. I love you," he told you, his tone pleading. "let me love you like you need."

you didn't respond, pondering over his words in your head, still too scared that you'll ruin the progress he's made himself. that thought plays over and over in your head: you can't drag him down with you. he's fought too hard and too long to get to where he is now.

he'd be better off without you.

"you should leave me," you whisper to him. "I'm not worth all this. I'm not worth losing yourself again."

"that's not going to happen in a million years. I swear on my life, I will never leave you. I fucking love you more than anything. we can figure this out together. I'll be there every step of the way."

you finally open your eyes and pull back enough to look into his gaze.

"I love you. I'm sorry," you tell him, still teary-eyed.

"no. don't be sorry. we're going to figure this out."

you want to say you won't, that it's impossible, that you're a lost cause.

but you love Bucky. and every word out of his mouth is a promise to you. when he says he will stay, that he will be here for you, you believe him.

he'll do anything for you.

~~~

masterlist

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bucky tag list part 1: (send an ask or dm to be removed)

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evansbuckle · 12 days ago

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The Falcon and The Winter Soldier 1.03 — "Power Broker"

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evansbuckle · 13 days ago

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thinking about assistant reader making congressman bucky nervous bc she cant help but flirt the first time she sees him in a suit

—————————————————————————

you were waiting in his living room, having delivered the suit to his apartment just 30 minutes earlier and then forcing him to go put it on and get ready. he had grumbled and frowned the entire way through but eventually listened to you, as he always did.

fiddling with the strap of your purse, you were too distracted to notice him walking into the room until he cleared his throat. your eyes snapped up, immediately scanning his figure. tall, broad, hair slicked back, cologne freshly sprayed and invading your senses. the suit was fitted to him perfectly, you were sure your expression said as much as you let your eyes roam languidly over his body. when you finally dragged your gaze to land on his face, you couldn’t help but notice the slightly pink tinge to his cheeks.

“well? good enough for this stupid gala?” his voice was gravelly, holding a tinge of nervousness that made your heart clench slightly. the thought of the beautiful man standing before you thinking he was anything less than a walking wet dream was baffling to you.

standing, you kept quiet as you made your way over to him. when you were stood in front of him you reached up, gently grabbing his tie to adjust it. the way his breath hitched slightly caused a small smirk to form on your face before you looked up at him through your lashes, your voice a low purr, “if i weren’t afraid i’d lose my job i would tell you just how good i think you look right now, sir.”

the blush on bucky’s cheeks deepened, his brow furrowing further as he mumbled, “stop messing with me.”

“not messing with you, sir,” you smiled, leaning into him slightly, “just trying to figure out a way to professional say you look hot.” you bit back the giggle in your throat at bucky’s slightly stunned expression, the crimson painting his cheeks never leaving.

bucky’s chest heaved slightly when your hands dropped from his tie, brushing over his chest lightly as you adjusted the lapels of his jacket. his hands twitched at his sides, as if he was aching to reach out for you. you bit your lip gently before pulling away, stepping back from him. “we’ll be late if we don’t leave soon.”

he stared at you for a moment before grunting and nodding his head towards the door. you took your cue, grabbing your purse before you began to walk out. just as you grabbed the handle you felt bucky’s flesh hand on your wrist, spinning you around to face him. you nearly collided with his chest as you stumbled, bucky placing his other hand on your hip to steady you.

when you looked up at him you sucked in a breath, knees nearly buckling. his nostrils flared, blue eyes locked on yours in an intense gaze. he looked like he wanted to swallow you whole, pupils blown, eyes dark.

his eyes trailed down your face until they landed on your neck, your breath hitching when you felt cool metal against your heated skin. bucky adjusted the chain of your necklace before hooking his finger above the dainty pendant, leaning in slightly. “after.” he said, voice holding that same gravelly quality.

your heart raced, brain feeling fuzzy at his proximity. you blinked slowly, voice just barely above a whisper, “a-after what?”

bucky licked his lower lip before biting it, his gaze flicking down to your lips before he spoke slowly. deliberately. “after the gala you can tell me all the thoughts you have in that pretty head about me in this suit.” his hand that was still on your hip slid to band around your back, pulling you flush against him as you gasped. “and then i’ll show you just how fucking sexy i think you look in this dress. sounds like a win win, doesn’t it doll?”

—————————————————————————

oh man i may have to make this an actual fic… i had a congressman bucky in the drafts that i hated so i killed it but this… i like her

p.s. if u saw this before the edit… no u didnt pookie

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evansbuckle · 13 days ago

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Domestic Bucky Headcanons

Thinking about domestic Bucky who naturally wakes up really early and then lies in bed (because he sleeps in a bed now) for the next three hours, just watching you sleep and listening to the way you breathe, because this is hands down the best moment of his day.

Domestic Bucky who damn near had a physical battle with the new machine you guys got just so he could bring you coffee, so you could lay in bed for a few minutes more.

Domestic Bucky who oddly enjoys cleaning, specifically wiping down surfaces because the motion soothes him. He also loves mopping for this same reason. Not that you’re complaining.

Domestic Bucky who replaces the flowers on the kitchen island every Monday, because they ‘decide the vibe for the week’ not that he really knows what that means, he just enjoys your smile when you see them.

Domestic Bucky who never fails to touch you - wether it’s a hand on your knee when you’re sitting on the couch together, his hand in your back pocket when you’re on a walk, his arms around your waist while you’re standing doing whatever you’re doing - honourable mention: he likes to carry you as much as he can, just because he knows you like it, even if its from kitchen to living room, or couch to bed.

Domestic Bucky who’s shoulders physically sag in relief every time he comes home from literally wherever because he can smell your presence and hear your heartbeat and he knows he’s safe.

Domestic Bucky who prides himself in knowing how to cook. After his totally great, not traumatic at all past it took him a while to find joy in food, but once he did? oh man, he’s like a magician with a decked out spice rack. It’s his favourite pastime. Not to mention the reward he gets from the way you physically moan at the taste of whatever he’s cooked.

On a similar note, he for some reason really struggles to bake. Bucky doesn’t know what the problem is because he swears he uses the scales and follows the recipe and the oven works just fine, but it always ends up just tasting slightly … off. On an unrelated note, Domestic Bucky has made best friends with everyone who works in the bakery a couple blocks away. They all greet him by name.

Domestic Bucky who adores movies, fantasy is preferred but he wouldn’t turn down a rom-com (sometimes you think he secretly prefers them). You could honestly swear that every time there's a cute date in a romcom he makes a mental note of it, and takes you on the same date a few days later, blushing when you point out the similarities between date and movie.

Domestic Bucky who draws you baths, and lights you candles, and brings wine & chocolates to you while you’re in said bath when you have a bad day because you’re not staying sad, not on his watch. Honourable mention for the fact he’ll get in with you, but only if you ask.

Domestic Bucky who is happy, who (after who knows how many years of guilt) accepts that he can have peace, who looks over at you every single morning when he wakes up, and every single night before he falls asleep, and thanks God that he didn’t end everything when it got too loud.

likes & reblogs are always appreciated! <3

#james bucky barnes #bucky barnes

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evansbuckle · 13 days ago

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absolutely i can add you to the taglist! thanks for reading! <333

Mechanic!Singledad!Bucky Barnes AU

Part four is yours. This might be my favourite chapter yet to be honest. Likes & reblogs are always appreciated <3

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: suggestive content, swearing, reader is referred to as y/n and uses she/her pronouns, men being gross, Bucky being protective, I pretend to know about cars again, Bucky is a girl dad.

masterlist part one part two part three part five part six

Grease, Part four.

The day had been awful from the start. Alarm wasn’t set properly, Cheryl barked at very noise, neighbours decided it was appropriate to listen to heavy metal at two in the morning. All of that to say, I hadn’t slept. Add in a group of builders parading in and out of the cafe, leaving half empty cups on every other table every twenty minutes, and you’re left with a y/n who’s taken three crying breaks in the bathroom already. The only thing calming murderous intent was the memories of Bucky’s lips on mine, his hands rough and large and everywhere.

The bell above the door chimed, and I wiped my hands over my face, preparing to make another flat white that wouldn’t be finished.

“Hi, how ca- Bucky!”

The brunette rested his hands on the counter, leaning himself forward.

“Hi sugar.”

Tears started to well up in my eyes at the sound of his voice, I try to blink them away, shaking my head.

“It’s so good to see you, you have no idea. Sit, let me bring you a coffee.”

He sat at an empty table, eyes not leaving me as I move around, bringing him his cup and a muffin.

“What’s wrong, plum? Look like you’ve been crying.” Bucky still doesn’t move his gaze off me, his brows knitted together in worry.

“Ha, yeah. Sorry about that,” I rub at my eyes, feeling grateful for the lack of makeup. “Bad day, bad sleep, bad customers.”

His hand reaches up to hold mine, thumb stroking over my knuckles. The moment doesn’t last long, the bell of evil ringing out again. I press a quick kiss to his temple before going back to work.

Bucky sits there for the better part of an hour, just observing. He takes in the cafe, wondering how he never noticed the cloud wallpaper, the blue chairs, the pale yellow ceiling. It was a cute place, and the curly-haired waitress buzzing around added to the charm, he thought. He was about to leave, coffee empty and muffin finished - a sure sign to get back to work, but there was a man with a white helmet sat two tables across from him who wouldn’t stop staring at the counter. Bucky turned his head then, and nearly keeled over at the sight.

She had taken her hair down. Frizzy, free, no two strands of hair the same, y/n looked like the physical embodiment of pure, unadulterated joy. The sunlight beaming in from the glass doors casting a downright angelic glow all over her.

That, and she was more or less bent over the back counters, reaching for something behind one of the machines, giving Bucky and the white-helmet-freak a good view of her ass. He couldn’t leave then, not when his joy was being ogled at by some douche who was drooling. He kept his gaze on the man, watching.

“Hey, Miss,” one of the man called out, signalling me over when I turned around. I grabbed a pot of coffee, briefly looking at Bucky before walking over there. “When’d you get off, hotness?”

“Sorry?” I felt a heat creep up on me, but not the good kind.

“I’m going to a party tonight, you should come. Intimate gathering type shit.”

“No, thank you.”

“Aw come on now, it’d be a laugh.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

“You’re too se-”

“She said no, buddy. Move along.” A deep voice called out from next to me, and I swear I could’ve fallen to my knees then and there. The man at the table grumbled a ‘you’re ugly anyways’ before leaving. Bucky’s arms turn me around so I’m facing him, enveloping me in a hug.

“You smell good.” I muffle out into his chest.

“Thanks, it’s grease and sweat.”

“Mm, I love it when you talk dirty to me.” I don’t get a chance to laugh at my own joke before he plants a quick kiss on my lips, "thanks for stepping in."

“When do you finish?”

I check my watch, “four more hours.”

“Your engine came earlier. Come over after when you’re done, sugar. Let’s see if we can make this better for you.”

I nod, waving him bye as he leaves. I take the cup and plate into the back room, barely managing to walk in before my coworker, Taylor walks in.

“He’s hot.”

“Who?”

She raises a single brow at me, a smile on her mouth. “The dilf that just left?”

“Oh sure, yeah. He’s hot.”

“Boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Husband?”

“No! We’ve just been, like, hanging out? I think.”

She laughs at me then, “you’re sleeping together.”

I scrunch my face, her mouth dropping.

“Girl, what? How do you let him walk around like that and not?”

“We’re taking it slow, I suppose. I’m seeing him later and honestly it’s the only thing that’s gonna get me through this shift.”

“Heard. It’s a nightmare and I don’t know where all these people have come from.” She shakes her head and leaves me to my thoughts.

The shift flies by, the rush was over fairly quick, leaving me, Taylor, and a few others to bask in the slowness. I rid my head of work thoughts as I push open the garage doors. It feels different than the last time I was here, personal, almost. It doesn’t take long for Bucky to spot me, pulling over to his little corner where my car was. It was missing the hood, but it looked fine.

“Is it done?” Bucky chuckles, wiping his hands on a rag, chucking it on his shoulder that was barely covered by a once-white vest. He looked criminally good, the vest stretching over his broadness, black pants struggling over the thickness of his legs.

“Haven’t started. You wanted action sugar, you’re getting it.” He nods over to the open bonnet, grabbing his tool box.

“So, I’ve taken the hood off and drained it. Don’t want any spillages, or leaks, do we?” I shake my head, “so now I’m gonna disconnect some of the lines, and then I’m gonna get you to do the wiring.”

“Me?”

“Yeah sugar, you.” He leans over the hood, rag in hand as he tampers round with the lines. There’s a light layer of sweat forming on his forehead, grunting lightly as the pipes struggle to disconnect. He works at it for a minute, forearms tense as the veins in his arms show up. The building gets warmer, and the sweat on him glistens.

“Alright see these?” He points around to a few wires plugged into various things on the inside of my car. “You’re gonna pull ‘em out.”

“What if I break it?”

“Then I’m here to fix it. But I’m not gonna need to, cuz you’re not gonna break anything, come on.”

He moves my body to the middle of the car, his chest pressed to my back. His hand points to the first wire, and I pull it out slowly, careful not to damage it. “That’s a good girl, this one next.” His voice is low, and I can feel his breath on my ear as his head dips lower, kissing my neck, barely. I pull the next one, still as careful, still as slow. Bucky hums in approval, pointing to the last four wires, “You know what to do.” I take them out one by one, struggling through it while Bucky’s face is buried in my neck, kissing, biting, sucking, marking. I tilt my head back into him, stretching my neck, softly moaning as he goes on, his hands wrapping round my waist.

“Told you ya wouldn’t break a thing.”

He pulls away from me, handing me a clean rag for my hands.

“You’re evil, Barnes.” He chuckles, leaning against a table.

“How so, sugar?”

“You’re just gonna do all that,” I point to where we were two minutes ago, “and then just stand there?”

“Well I could sit if you’d prefer.”

I roll my eyes at him, gently throwing the rag on the table next to him.

“I told you i’m waitin’.”

I nod.

“Don’t ever think I’m not achin’ for you, sugar.” He stands upright now, stepping forward until I’m pressed against the passenger door of my car, head lowered till I could feel his voice by my ear and smell the sweat off his neck. “Don’t think I don’t fall asleep thinkin’ ‘bout the day I get to bury myself in your pu-”

“Who’s this, Barnes?” A voice rings through the garage. Our heads whip round at the sound, my eyes landing on a man, rag thrown over his shoulder the same as everyone else in the place.

“Sam, this is y/n, y/n, Sam.” He nods to the smiling man, face still flushed.

“Nice to meet you,” Sam offered his hand to me and I shake it.

“Yeah you too. I really should be going though.” I look back to Bucky as he nods, demeanour thrown off by the interruption.

“Text me when you’re home, plum, and lock your door.” I nod at him, waving bye to Sam before heading out.

“‘Plum’?” Sam asks Bucky.

“Shut it.” Bucky shakes his head, eyes scanning over the hood-less car, before opening his tool box again.

“Real cute Barnes. She your girlfriend?”

“No.”

“So, what then?”

“We’re friends.”

“Last I checked friends don’t pin each other to cars like that, man.”

“We’re good friends.”

“Right, okay.” Sam slaps Bucky on the back, stifling a laugh at the way the older man jumps at the contact. “In all seriousness Bucky, we’re all glad you’re putting yourself out there.”

“Who the fuck is we?”

He points to the other side of the garage, where the rest of the boys are stood in a huddle, whistling and cheering. Bucky doesn’t bother replying to any of them, settling for a scowl in their direction instead.

Bucky walks through the front door of his home, the smell of pizza wafting through the entire place. He follows the scent to the kitchen where Becky and her sitter, Louise were washing dishes.

“Hey, guys.”

“Daddy!” Becky jumps off her stool, wet hands covering the floor in water.

“Hi, baby. Missed you too much,” he lifts the girl into the air, holding her tight against his chest, absolutely enamored with the little piece of his heart that lives outside his body. She giggles and swats at him.

“Made pizza for you!”

“Yeah I can smell it, doll. Who’s idea was it?” Bucky looks at Louise then, a smile on both their mouths as Becky delves into an explanation on why pizza, and why today.

Louise stays for dinner, but only after Bucky insists, she helped make it after all. He was entirely grateful to her, and the time and care she showed Becky day in, day out. He showed it by stuffing an extra twenty in her coat pocket before she left.

“C’mon baby, bedtime.” Becky happily abides, holding onto her dad’s hand as he leads her into bed, tucking her in amongst pink bedsheets and a pretty purple blanket. “You want a story or no?” He lets her think while he switches off the big light, turning on the fairly lights that he’d recently put up on the wall. Becky nods her head, pointing to a copy of ‘the hobbit for kids!’. Bucky laughed, picking up the book and sitting on the floor beside her bed. She settled down, big blue eyes wide and hanging onto every word that came out of her dads mouth. Bucky didn’t get a chapter in before he heard little tired snores coming out of the girl. “I love you, baby. Sleep well now,” he whispered, kissing her softly on the head, turning the lights off before leaving.

Bucky put himself to bed early that night too, not really wanting to do much else. His mind wandered as he lay in the dark room.

He didn’t believe in love at first sight that was for damn sure, not even Becky’s mum had changed his mind on that. But there was something about y/n he couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the way she managed to calm his heart, even when she just sat quietly, not saying a word. Or maybe it was the way she was with his kid, soft and gentle, but not afraid. Maybe it was the way he felt when he thought of her - the way his heart physically jumped in his chest and he felt tingly inside. He didn’t know, but he didn’t really care.

He just knew she was for keeps.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

taglist: IF YOU'D LIKE TO BE TAGGED LET ME KNOW <3

@yellowsbutter

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