mercurial-chuckles

[mercurial-chuckles]

Bucky Barnes vs Ethan Stark

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader | Olivia Barnes x Ethan Stark Warnings: Sap | Overloaded fluff | Language | Allusions to sex | MDNI | Protective dad Bucky | Grumpy Bucky | Ethan 'Menace' Stark | Friends to lovers trope | Chaos galore | Tom Welling as Ethan Stark 🤭 | Unbeta'd | Let me know if I’m missing anything. Word Count: ~2.5k A/N: @soelstress sowed this idea in my head after reading Sappy Sunday Thought. Thank you, my lovely Soels! I have no clue how far and how deep I'm gonna spiral with this, but hey...this is a start. 💕🤭 I had a whole different banner, but after those recent pictures of Seb, I had to change... he's giving major Zaddy vibes, NGL! 😏😉👀 This is also my submission to Cranky!Grumpy!Stabby! Oh, My! Challenge | @yenzys-lucky-charm | 🗡️ A: Smoothing out the crease in Cranky’s frown while straddling their lap B: Cranky character melts, pulling them in for a kiss & Grem's 20 Characters with 20 Questions for 20 Tropes Challenge | @gremlin-girly | Bucky Barnes + 7Q + 5T | Thank you both for hosting 🩷🥹🫂 Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner credits to me. Picture credits to the internet. Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Indulge Away!

****

According to Bucky, his wife was a savage.

Bucky was ecstatic until you soured his mood. Because you'd waited until three orgasms later to tell him, right after he pounded you against the wall, while his brain was still trying to catch up, when you delivered the blow. No pun there.

He woke up utterly happy that morning. Your daughter, Olivia, was coming home for the summer. She'd just completed her junior year at university, and you had both been counting the days until you saw your baby.

Over the past month, your daughter and husband had been busy planning quite a few activities for all of you. Bucky had even cut down most of his training schedule for the summer, too. You, unfortunately, didn't have the same luxury. The project you and Tony have been working on with DOE was heading into fabrication, and you needed to put in a few more days of brutal work hours before you could dial down.

This visit was extra special. Olivia hadn't been home last summer. She'd spent it halfway across the country, interning at a start-up company in a research program, which she still heard her Uncle Tony whine about it. Most holidays were little weekend sprints. But this time, she was staying for the whole summer.

'Coz this time, she'd landed an internship with the research team at the compound after clearing a written exam and three rounds of interviews. Out of all the applicants, she was one of the three selected to intern at AI.

Tony had no idea, and Olivia had begged Pepper and Maria to keep it low. Olivia was too humble. She was determined to prove herself on her merit, not wanting anyone to think she'd been accepted into the program simply because of her connections. You were proud of your daughter. But there was no doubt Tony would be squealing when he found out Olivia was back and working at the compound, no less.

Bucky had been practically buzzing with excitement, already pulling on his jacket to head for the airport when you casually told him that he'd also be picking up Ethan Stark, who was flying with Olivia.

Bucky's pleasure-ridden mood fizzled out drastically. He turned to glare at you.

On the same fucking plane.

The absolute nightmare.

"Why the fuck was I not aware of this?" He snapped, stalking after you as you got dressed for work.

"Bucky," you sighed, not even sparing him a glance. You were running late, and it was all Bucky's fault. He couldn't keep his hands to himself, not that you minded very much.

It wasn't unpopular that your husband despised Ethan Stark from the moment Olivia was born--mostly because that kid had taken an immediate, obnoxious liking toward his daughter. And it had only gotten worse over time.

"No, seriously. Did you know that they were flying together?" Bucky pressed, backing you up against the couch with his hands caging you in. You tried to shuffle away, but he pushed his thigh between your legs.

"Hey," you squeaked, giggling and squirming, a little sensitive from earlier.

You tried to push him away, chuckling, but he didn't budge. Of course, he didn't. Instead, he flexed his muscles just right, making you moan.

"Tell me," he demanded. You found his pouty, murderous expression endearing.

Honestly, you knew exactly what you were doing. You'd only found out last night that Olivia and Ethan were flying home together. Smart girl that she was, Olivia hadn't breathed a word to her dad either, probably because it was common knowledge in your house that Bucky had a short fuse where Ethan Stark was concerned.

You hadn't meant to hide it.

Maybe you did.

You just figured it wasn't worth mentioning since Ethan already had a ride home from the airport, and you knew Bucky would go no matter what to pick Olivia. So, you decided not to poke the bear, if not required. But then Pepper called, asking for a favor, and honestly, you could never say no to her.

You sighed, winding your arms around his neck. Bucky leaned into you without the slightest resistance, his scorching blue eyes fanning the embers, sparking that wicked burn inside your core.

Fuck, he looked delectable. You'd gotten ridiculously lucky. The silver in his beard, the faint crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and those soft pink lips--all of it made you giddy. And he was all yours.

You pushed up onto your toes, one hand sliding to cup his jaw, your thumb dragging lightly over the coarse scruff. Bucky's breath came slower, as he relaxed into your touch, his jaw unclenching under your touch as he melted closer, letting you pull him exactly where you wanted.

"Bucky," you said sweetly, gently, pecking his lips and scratching lightly at the nape of his neck.

He groaned against your lips, moving to take more, but you slightly inched away, "They've been friends forever. They go to the same school."

"Yeah, still haven't gotten over that shit," Bucky grumbled, recalling the day Olivia got an admit to MIT, where Ethan Stark was pursuing his PhD.

"Ethan's a good kid. Besides, he really cares about her," You added before you could stop yourself.

And boy, you really should have shut up after 'good kid.'

Bucky looked absolutely repulsed, like you'd suggested he walk Olivia down the aisle--something you weren't supposed to talk about, let alone think, according to him. That was his rule. To him, Olivia was still his little baby, and he didn't have to worry about that just yet.

"Exactly. That's the fucking problem. He cares too much," Bucky growled, looking like he was about to punch something.

Ugh! You banged your head against his chest, frustrated.

This was going to be a long summer.

You wished Steve or Sam were here instead of on a mission. They would've picked up the kids from the airport without throwing a fit, unlike your husband.

"I'm NOT getting into this discussion. AGAIN. I need to get to the lab, or Tony's gonna roast me," you warned, wiggling out of his grip, and he reluctantly let you.

"Pepper asked. Please, Buck?" you requested again, rushing toward the door. When you heard nothing, you glanced back to see him sulking on the couch, arms crossed, frown still intact. He looked way too adorable for your own good.

Groaning, you marched back to him and dropped yourself into his lap. His hands automatically wound around you, helping you straddle his lap and tugging you closer, still refusing to look at you.

Stubborn little shit.

You ran your thumb over the crease between his brows.

"Bucky, please?"

"No."

"Bucky."

"No."

"I'll do anything," you tried, wiggling your brows.

"Don't bribe me with your body. It's mine." Bucky exclaimed, squeezing your tit in retaliation. He was not wrong. That kind of deal never worked on your husband.

"Bucky," you tried again, exasperated.

"Fine, anything?" He asked, eyes narrowed at you.

You nodded earnestly.

"Call Pepper and tell her I can't pick up her son." He scoffed.

When you sat there with your game face, silently throwing daggers and not ready to budge, he finally gave in.

"Fine," he conceded, rolling his eyes at you before pulling you in for a kiss.

****

Cramped into the narrow economy seat on a completely packed flight, Olivia Barnes was a nervous wreck. She hadn't planned to be anxious she was super excited to finally see you and her dad, but then her phone buzzed just as they were taxiing for takeoff.

Livi, Dad's gonna pick you and Ethan up. Love you. Can't wait to see you. Safe travels to you both.

Her stomach dropped.

Uh-oh.

Normally, that kind of text wouldn't bother her that much.

Except things were different now.

Very different.

Olivia knew her dad wasn't exactly a fan of Ethan--or any of her guy friends, for that matter. Bucky had a way of scaring most of her guy friends without even trying, but Ethan was different. He didn't scare easily. Olivia actually kind of enjoyed the back-and-forth between the two of them. But now, things were different. Now, she wanted Ethan to be in her dad's good books. Scratch that--his best books.

The tall, annoyingly handsome man sitting next to her, currently wrestling to fit his long legs into a comfortable position, was no longer just her best friend. He was her boyfriend. And no one knew. Well, except for Morgan and most surely aunt Nat.

Trying to steady her racing heart, Olivia leaned toward Ethan and hissed under her breath, "Why didn't you just sit in first class when they offered?"

Right before boarding, an airline associate had bumped Ethan's seat to first class--the perks of being Ethan Stark, son of the legendary Tony Stark.

A girl had recognized him despite his pathetic disguise of a baseball cap and dark glasses. "How's the ruse working, Superman?" Olivia had teased when the associate beamed at him, whispering about the upgrade. Ethan had flat-out denied it and stubbornly refused, choosing to stay right next to Olivia.

"In your dreams," he said now, flashing a grin that made her stomach flip warmly. "I'm sitting right next to you. Deal with it."

To make his point clear, Ethan moved one of his legs between hers, lifting her leg onto his and resting his hand on her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Olivia rolled her eyes and shoved her phone toward him, showing him your text.

Ethan read it.

Blinked.

Blinked.

Blinked some more.

Then chuckled low and rough in his chest.

"Fuck me," he muttered, wide-eyed, looking at her.

"Ethan," Olivia snapped quietly, swatting his hand away from her thigh. "You need to be on your absolute best behavior. I mean it. Do not, I repeat, do not irk him."

"I never do," Ethan scoffed, leaning back in his seat. He pulled her hand into his, interlacing his fingers with hers. "He just hates me because I love you."

Olivia groaned, helplessly.

"Are you listening?" she grumbled weakly. "Until we break it to your mom and dad, and my mom, and Uncle Stevie and Sammy, we are playing it cool."

"And, will you stay as far away from as humanly possible, please?" she added.

Ethan smacked his lips in annoyance, squinting at her.

"Yeah, that? Can't do that," he said stubbornly, inching closer, and quickly pecked her lips.

"Ethan," she glared at him, "I'm fucking serious."

"So am I," he said simply.

"I can't!" He shrugged. "How am I supposed to hold back when you keep looking at me like that?"

"I'm glaring at you," Olivia said flatly.

"And you're hot," Ethan said, sniggering as he shamelessly snuggled his head onto her shoulder.

"Guess you'll have to try real hard then," she muttered, trying not to laugh. He was warm, smelled so good, and his floofy hair tickled her neck.

"Fine," he sighed dramatically, sitting up with a little pout. But not before stealing a quick kiss on her shoulder, making her stomach tingle.

"Fuck you, Ethan," she said, picking up the magazine from the flap in front of her, trying to distract herself.

"I'm game," he whispered warmly against her ear, winking at her.

Feeling her entire face heat up, she beat him with the magazine. He simply laughed.

"Alright. Distance. Noted," he chuckled, but made himself comfortable again, resting his head on the curve of her shoulder. He slept there for the next hour.

Not that she minded.

~

By the time the plane landed in LaGuardia, Olivia was more anxious.

Bucky's text was already waiting when they turned their phones back on.

Shared my location. See ya in a bit. Love you, sweetheart.

Olivia's palms were sweating.

They had to be friendly... but not too friendly.

Close enough to not look suspicious. Distant enough to protect Ethan from her dad's wrath.

To her absolute horror, Ethan snuck in a kiss at the baggage claim. "Don't know when I'll see you alone again," he said dramatically. As Olivia reached for her suitcase, he snagged her wrist, pulling her into him for a kiss.

Olivia jerked back so fast that she nearly toppled the luggage cart.

"Are you out of your mind?!" she whisper-yelled, throwing a frantic look around.

Ethan snorted, "Relax, my Livi. Your dad's there," he said smugly, showing her phone where Bucky's location was blinking.

She gave him a dirty glare and marched ahead, clutching her backpack tightly.

And that's exactly how Bucky found them a few minutes later--Olivia marching stiffly forward, searching for him, with Ethan trailing behind her, grinning.

His gaze narrowed the second he spotted them.

What started as a survival skill, observation became instinctual for Bucky Barnes. And he was hyper-focused when you or his daughter were in the picture.

So, he didn't miss the way Olivia's ears turned pink when she saw him.

He didn't miss the way Ethan instinctively shifted a little closer to her before catching himself and awkwardly veering right.

When Olivia rushed to hug him happily, he didn't miss the smell of Ethan Stark's perfume on his daughter.

He didn't miss a damn thing.

~

Bucky barely said a word to Ethan after the initial greeting.

"Ethan," Bucky acknowledged with a curt nod.

"Sir," Ethan replied with a grin.

Olivia climbed into the passenger seat, nervous, while Ethan tossed both of their bags into the trunk before sliding into the back seat. He positioned himself right behind her seat.

Bucky glanced at them both, his eyes flickering between Olivia's stiff posture and Ethan's relaxed form.

"Good flight?" he asked casually.

"Great!" Olivia blurted out, flashing a smile.

"Terrible," Ethan chimed in simultaneously, leaning back with a dramatic sigh.

Olivia shot him a look through the side mirror.

Bucky's eyebrows lifted slightly, his gaze shifting to the mirror where he caught Ethan's reflection.

"Terrible?" he echoed, starting the car.

Ethan shrugged. "Well, you know… long legs and economy seats."

"Thought you'd travel first-class," Bucky pointed out, pulling out onto the next lane.

Olivia stiffened.

"Dad," Olivia chided. This passive aggression was nothing new, but that remark wasn't cool.

Ethan chuckled, "Yeah, well… first class is a bit expensive, sir. I'm saving money."

Apart from a million other things, this was what Olivia loved the most about him. Ethan Stark was a self-made man, just like her. She noticed the slight twitch at the corner of her dad's lips, a nearly imperceptible sign of approval at Ethan's answer.

That was a damn miracle right there.

Great job, Ethan! She thought...too soon, though.

"Though they did bump me into first class, I couldn't leave Livi alone back there," Ethan added.

Fucking menace was what he was! Ugh! Dickhead!

Olivia nearly facepalmed.

Bucky's eyes flicked toward her, then back to the road. "Didn't realize you two couldn't survive a couple of hours apart," he bit out.

The tension in the car thickened instantly.

Olivia forced a laugh that sounded more like a choking. "Dad…"

"Kidding," Bucky hummed, his tone unreadable.

He was so not kidding, alright!

For a few agonizing moments, there was nothing but silence. Olivia stared determinedly out the window, holding back the urge to scream at the man she loved--and at the same time, wanting to kick him out of the car so she could breathe and catch up with her dad normally.

God, he was annoying. She specifically told him not to irk her dad, but nope. What was he even thinking?

Meanwhile, Ethan seemed entirely too comfortable lounging in the back seat, utterly unbothered by the tension filling in the tiny space.

Quite dreadful, really. And the summer had barely even started.

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[mercurial-chuckles]

Me too 🤭😏 Thanks, Missy!🫂😘🤭

is smutober still open? if yes can i ask for stucky x f!reader + 17. "seeing the love marks they left on their partner later and getting turned on all over again remember how it got there in the first place"? i thought maybe steve or bucky seeing the marks the other left on reader? or even better, steve or buck seeing the marks reader left on them. anyway, up to you, i love all of your stucky works, you make their relationship feel so real and i love how you don't focus solely on the boys with reader but on bucky and steve and their love for each other as well.

Wanton Affairs

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes | Stucky x F!Reader Warnings: Overloaded Fluff Galore | Domestic Supersoldiers | Poly relation | Language | THE SMUT galore | Threesome | Fingering | Littleshit supersoldiers on the loose | Irresistible Bucky | One torn bra | Supersoldier Sandwich | Soft!dom Steve | Soft!dom Bucky | ~6k of fluffy n filthy goodness | I've broken the fic into three parts with breaks if you wish to stop and continue later | Unedited. If you find any errors (you will), please kindly ignore them for the moment. I typed as I went. I'm too disoriented to edit, but I will as soon as I can | Lemme know if I'm missing anything. A/N: My first threesome. I mean, first time writing a threesome. I'm already whimpering in dread. So, be gentle with me. Treat me tenderly, and some validation would really ease me. Thank you for sending in the ask for SMUT-BER FEST. My apologies for how--embarrassingly--long it's taken to get to your ask. I hope you enjoy reading it, my sweet anon! And thank you for your kind words. This is also my submission for Stucky Bingo | Prompt: Napping | @stuckybingo Most importantly, I've added a small dialogue prompt inspired by Trick or Treat wheel of potential doom. @yenzys-lucky-charm I'm sorry this thought has been marinating in my head for so long, love. I'm way past the due date, and this isn't technically my submission. Since you mentioned how excited you were about this prompt, and now that I've FINALLY gotten inspired, I wanted to tag you. Please feel free to ignore it if any elements of this fic aren't your forte ✨ Hope I did it justice 🩷 Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner and Divider made by me. Picture credits to internet! Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Indulge Away!

Bucky gets what he wants, even if it means seducing fighting an annoyed Steve Rogers

Bucky, as per Steve's entirely unqualified yet riveting diagnosis, was a little shit with a severe case of cuteness aggression.

Why, you ask?

Well, it was 2 p.m., and Bucky had just returned home from the compound. And when he walked in and saw you peacefully napping, he absolutely couldn't resist his joy.

Despite Steve's firm warning that you needed rest after pulling an all-nighter, Bucky just couldn't help himself. He'd missed you terribly all day--too many hours apart.

So, like the true, needy mess that he was, he decided to be obnoxiously loud, hoping you'd stir awake, give him a warm smile that would relax him in no seconds, and let him curl up next to you.

Those were the hopes of the brunette man.

But his other love--the too-practical, too-Captainy--was already dousing his plans in cold water.

It wasn't that Bucky didn't understand the importance of your sleep--he did. He knew you'd been putting in extra hours, working on the analysis of some foil, and you hardly slept the last few days and that you didn't sleep at all last night.

Stupid Project!

But you, in all your serene, angelic glory, just looked so irresistible lying there.

Not to be too dramatic but he was desperate and downright itching for you to hold him.

Last night had been miserable. He'd tossed and turned all night, and with Steve holed up at the compound, there was no one to hold him while he slept. Which, of course, meant sleep was out of the question. Steve had tried convincing him to come over, mumbling something about hologram testing and training updates--like that was supposed to be enticing.

A bunch of lies, if you asked Bucky.

Steve was a really needy puppy. The man could hardly stand being away from you for too long without either of them keeping watch. And sure, the offer had been tempting, but Bucky had backed off, figuring he'd crash on the couch with some trash TV instead. The last thing he wanted was to deal with Tony along with his sizable ego and the others when he was in a mood. Not that he disliked any of them--he just wasn't in the headspace for socializing. So, he let Steve play the responsible Captain at the Compound while you worked and he decided to stay back and suffer in peace.

In the early hours that morning, he went to his scheduled training session, running on barely any sleep. You had texted saying you'd be home in the evening, but when he saw you both back earlier than expected, he just couldn't resist, could he?

Thus, he proceeded with his noisy campaign to wake you up, much to Steve's horror.

"Bucky," Steve hissed from across the room as Bucky slammed the bathroom door.

"Stop that," he warned, half-amused by the exaggeratedly loud noises Bucky had been making since the moment he arrived home. Steve's enhanced hearing only made it worse, amplifying the noise tenfold. But Bucky had the same enhanced hearing, and Steve knew how stealthy his lover could be. That meant Bucky was intentionally making a racket to wake you up--and that annoyed Steve.

"Stop what?" Bucky huffed, raising an eyebrow as he marched toward Steve, intentionally stomping every step.

Though it had plenty of closet space, the walk-in closet attached to the bedroom was far too small for the two of them. Steve had dimmed the lights to avoid disturbing you and even drew the curtains in the bedroom to block out the intense afternoon light pouring through the windows.

"Shh... she's sleeping," Steve shushed, flinging a shirt he was folding toward Bucky in an attempt to get him to stop. But Bucky caught it mid-air, tossed it back into the laundry bin with a grin, and, without missing a beat, yanked Steve toward him by the collar of his undershirt.

Bucky cradled Steve's jaw with an exaggerated air of seriousness, murmuring lowly, "Ya know, I just saw a picture of a grumpy cat online that looked exactly like you."

Bucky's grin widened.

Steve's frown deepened, and the playful glint in Bucky's eyes only intensified.

Rolling his eyes, Steve swatted Bucky's hands away from his cheeks and snorted in amusement. "You sure it wasn't you?" he deadpanned, picking up clothes one by one and sorting them into fold piles and hangers.

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled Steve by the neck, his lips nearly grazing Steve's.

Poor Stevie couldn't resist now, could he? Because Bucky looked irresistibly handsome, and he was a weak man when it came to Bucky or you.

Steve felt his resolve slip, and before he knew it, his lips were gravitating toward Bucky's as Bucky leaned in for a soft, teasing kiss. A low moan escaped Steve, and before he could deepen the kiss, Bucky pulled away, leaving Steve with nothing but a rush of warmth and utter annoyance.

Steve groaned, rubbing his face. "You're such a jerk," he muttered, irritated by the half-assed kiss and desperate for more.

Bucky's grin widened wickedly. "What? Do you need me, punk? All you gotta do is ask," he teased, "Nicely," he added, his voice thick with amusement, before leaning in again--this time intently, pushing Steve against the tiny space of empty wall beside the door. Their lips collided, groaning at the taste, deepening the kiss as they moved closer, instinctively pulling each other tighter. The arousing kiss continued, building and building until…

The unmistakable tear was heard.

Both of them exchanged a look.

"Oh, shit!" Bucky laughed, pulling away just enough to look down.

Steve followed Bucky's gaze and froze, his face going pale. There, in Steve's hand, were the torn remains of your favorite bra. It was a cute piece, too, with little dinosaurs and cacti prints. You looked adorable wearing it.

"Son of a bitch, that's her comfy one," Steve muttered in exasperation, turning it in his large hands to see if it was remotely salvageable, but the fabric was in tatters.

"Eh…" Bucky hummed, plucking the fabric from Steve's hands, and inspected the shredded piece with little sympathy, "I hate these traps," he muttered.

"Nope, gotta say goodbye," Bucky sniggered, putting the ripped fabric back into Steve's hands. Steve groaned in defeat.

Bucky patted him on the shoulder with exaggerated pity, and taking advantage of Steve's guilty reminiscence, he slipped out of the closet and into the bedroom, leaving Steve standing there, still processing the carnage.

Bucky plopped himself on the bed with zero resistance from Steve whatsoever. He quickly discarded his joggers, cursing himself for deciding to put them on after the shower. He threw them, aiming for the chair, but Steve caught them mid-air, a frown returning to his face.

Bucky's smile widened at the sound of Steve's angry grunts, whispered under his breath. Ignoring all of Steve's warnings, Bucky turned his focus entirely to you, snuggling comfortably beside you, and wondering how best to announce his arrival.

Steve seemed to read his thoughts because he snapped, nearly shouting, "James, get your ass over here and fold the laundry with me if you're so bored!"

Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes. "I'm not bored, Steven. I'm sleepy," he declared, finger traced gently down your cheek, and you made a soft noise in your sleep.

Steve's patience ebbed away all at once. He cast one last look at your peaceful, slumbering form, Steve had just managed to help you fall asleep, and he wasn't about to let Bucky mess it all up.

With a determined stride, Steve marched over, grabbed Bucky by the waist, and hauled him off the bed without warning. Bucky let out a surprised laugh, but Steve anticipated the noise, quickly pressing his hand to Bucky's mouth to silence him as he began marching him out of the room.

"What the hell?" Bucky grumbled, his brain catching up.

Steve only made it two steps into the living room before Bucky, like a reflex, tackled him to the ground with a booming laugh.

"You're really not listening. Let her sleep," Steve hissed, his voice strained from holding back his irritation and laughter.

"I wasn't doing anything," Bucky guffawed, straddling Steve and pinning him to the floor.

"Cut it out, Buck."

Bucky, now the one in control, held both of Steve's wrists to his chest, completely enjoying the struggle.

"GET UP!" Steve grumbled, pretending to be annoyed, but the amused smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

"Is that all ya got?" Bucky mocked, raising an eyebrow. "For a man who pulled a helicopter…" He tutted in mock disappointment. "Bad, Stevie. You gotta replenish your big boy energy."

Bucky placed a teasing kiss on Steve's jaw, his breath warm against Steve's skin. "I think you need a nap, too," he whispered.

Steve narrowed his eyes, and as the smug grin on Bucky's face fully registered in his mind, "You look quite energized Buck, and you definitely don't need a nap," Steve remarked flippantly.

Bucky's grin faltered, but only for a second. He kept Steve pinned with his metal arm, his face now just inches from Steve's as he leaned in closer. With a soft chuckle, Bucky pushed off Steve, sliding away from him smoothly and practically leaping off the floor and onto the bed in two long strides, knowing fully well that Steve wouldn't repeat the same mistake of hauling him off the bed a second time.

Bucky mentally counted to five, and sure enough, Steve appeared in the doorway, a frown marring his adorably stupid face.

Steve walked in fully intending to get the rest of the laundry done, however, he glanced at the bed, eyes greedily taking in Bucky's overtly happy and awfully comfortable expression snuggling beside you, and Steve sighed, conceding defeat. With a roll of his eyes, he finally walked over to the bed and carefully settled on the other side.

"You're folding the laundry later," Steve mouthed to Bucky, his voice just above a whisper. He then carefully slid his right arm around your waist, almost instinctively, and settled it over Bucky's side of the bed.

Bucky chuckled proudly, satisfied with himself. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before slowly slipping your hand from beneath your pillow, gently resting it on his own. Your familiar scent filled the space between them, soothing Bucky like the pleasant sound of rain.

Steve peeked at Bucky, a small, affectionate smile tugging at his lips as he felt your feet worm their way between his legs. Bucky's right arm found Steve's on top of your pillow, and without a second's delay, Steve interlaced his fingers with Bucky's, letting out a quiet hum of satisfaction.

"Such a punk," Steve murmured, squeezing Bucky's hand affectionately.

Bucky snorted. His eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the soothing calmness of both you and Steve.

"And no funny business," Steve added softly, his voice almost teasing as he kissed the top of your head, his breath warm on your skin. Bucky smiled to himself, too content to bite back with a reply.

The absolute nerve of Steve to question Bucky's purer, entirely innocent intentions of cuddling and falling asleep peacefully.

****

Steve is sometimes ALWAYS right

Still groggy and barely awake, you blinked open your eyes--only to be met with two bright blue ones and a wide grin. It scared the shit out of you, and you let out an ungraceful squeak.

"Fuck you, Bucky," you mumbled in surprise, but your cry was quickly muffled by his cold metal palm as he hushed you.

You blinked a few more times, adjusting to your surroundings, finally registering the cozy, familiar position you were wrapped in. The warmth of Steve behind you, his face pressed into your shoulder blade, his nose tickling your skin as the unmistakable sound of his snoring reverberated through your back.

"Stevie's snoring? Aww." You cooed, a sleepy, contented pout pulling at your lips. Bucky grinned beside you, nodding.

It was rare for either of them to snore--what with the serum taking most of the brunt of their bodies--but once in a while, exhaustion got the better of them.

"I recorded it, too," Bucky told you proudly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips.

You sighed happily, licking your lips--his kiss felt like the sun's warmth on a cold winter day.

"Of course you did," you chuckled, a yawn slipping out before you could stop it.

Just as expected, Bucky tried to slip his fingers into your mouth mid-yawn, but you swatted his hand away before he could pull his usual antics. He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that charming, divinely gorgeous way that always made your heart flutter.

"What's the time?" you murmured, tugging at his t-shirt. Bucky slid closer, effortlessly molding against you as you hooked a leg over his hip, his thigh slotting between yours. His warmth, his scent--you savored every bit of him.

God, you'd missed him. Missed them.

"4:15," he whispered, voice low and soothing. He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his metal fingers brushing your cheek, tucking away a few stray strands. At some point, your braid must have loosened in your sleep.

"How was training?" you asked, voice drowsy. Bucky grunted in response, lips trailing lazy kisses along your skin. You hummed, fingers idly playing with the fabric of his t-shirt, knowing exactly what that grunt meant. Training without Steve usually had him in a mood.

Bucky shifted just an inch away, his eyes locked on yours. And you smiled at him, watching his eyes twinkle with love. Unable to resist, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his chin. A comfortable silence settled. Bucky and you got lost in each other's touches, eyes blinking slowly.

"You really haven't been sleeping much, have you?" Bucky murmured, his brows twitching into a concerned frown.

You reached up, smoothing your fingers over the crease between them, watching as the tension melted from his face. He sighed under your touch, and you only shrugged slightly, a small pout tugging at your lips.

"I guess," you whispered, your fingers drifting down to gently massage his jaw. Bucky let out a low, satisfied hum, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

It was during these rare silences--filled with unspoken love you pondered how far you had come. You were so grateful. So unbelievably proud of the choices you had all made, of the life you had built together.

Bucky's expression softened even more as he grumbled, "I'm sorry." His lower lip jutted out just enough to make you want to suckle on it--so you did.

He let out a pleased hum, pressing a soft peck to your lips, his warm breath tickling your senses as he continued, "For trying to wake you up while you were sleeping. I'm such a jerk sometimes."

You let out a quiet laugh but quickly stilled when you felt Steve shift behind you, his forehead pressing snugly against the column of your neck as he instinctively pulled you closer. You waited, holding your breath to see if he would wake. When he didn't, you relaxed and turned your attention back to Bucky, your fingers trailing along his cheek, savoring the contrast between his soft skin and the roughness of his stubble.

"You think I even noticed? I was out like a light," you teased, grinning wide. "Besides, nothing to be sorry about… I know you're my Sugarpuss."

Bucky's eyes widened in mock offense as he dramatically gestured toward Steve. "He's Sugarpuss."

"No, he's not. He's the wise and responsible one of us. He keeps us in line. Besides, he'd only ever call you Sugarpuss," you teased, winking.

Bucky scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Though… you're more of a sourpuss most of the time," you added with a playful smirk.

Bucky let out a dramatic grunt before suddenly pulling you closer. Steve shifted behind you, now sprawled out on his stomach.

"I'd beat his ass if he ever called me that," Bucky muttered, tossing a leg over you and tugging you flush against him.

"You'd beat my ass too?" you teased, grinning as you pressed soft butterfly kisses along his neck.

Bucky moaned in satisfaction, the deep rumble of his throat vibrating against your lips.

"You're my pretty girl. You can call me any shitty name you want," he murmured, eyes crinkling with affection.

Before you could fawn over that, another snore rumbled from Steve, and Bucky turned his head to glance at him.

Shaking his head in mock disbelief, he huffed, "And he said he didn't need a nap."

"Yeah?" you asked, unable to resist the giggle bubbling up.

"Yeah. Hell-bent on me not lurking around you," Bucky said, shaking his head.

You laughed, snuggling deeper into his warmth.

"Guess what? He came by the lab... Captain mode," you whispered, your fingers threading through Bucky's hair, tugging just the way he liked. He let out a happy sigh, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

"Really?" Bucky rasped, his voice thick with interest. His hand found the band of your panties, and he snapped them. You squirmed, feeling the warmth bubbling.

"Yeah! He announced that there was a meeting and that I was needed," you continued, chuckling. "Carried me home and put me to sleep."

Bucky hummed his palm kneading slow, lazy circles into your hip. His touch was heavy, possessive. His metal arm slipped underneath your shirt.

"Bucky…" you warned, shaking your head slightly.

But Bucky grinned, squeezing and massaging your tit, flicking your nipple. You squirmed, breath hitching at the sensation.

His smirk was downright sinful. "Put you to sleep, huh?"

Bucky seemed to take pity because he moved his hand away, but only for his fingers now trailing along your collarbone, then down the length of your neck. The cool Vibranium warmed instantly against your skin as he pushed your--Steve's--t-shirt off your shoulder.

"He left marks, didn't he?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, your face reddening up at the memory of Steve taking you apart after you denied that you were not sleepy.

Bucky huffed in mock offense, his fingers ghosting over the faint hickeys. "And he tells me, 'No funny business, Buck.'" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Wise, my ass. I'm the wiser one." The words were more for himself than for you, his lips trailing along the column of your neck.

The way your body responded to him was crazy.

"And I feel absolutely left out," Bucky murmured against your mouth, the warmth of his breath making you shiver.

The need to taste him, to pull him closer, was overwhelming.

"We can't have that, Buck," you whispered.

And then, as if reading each other's minds, you both moved at once. The kiss was passionately satiating yet a consuming hunger overwhelmed you. His tongue trailed inside your mouth, lapping at you hungrily, sucking on your bottom lip.

"You're a goddess, you know that?" he rasped, moaning at the taste, revving you up just right. "Fuck, I missed you so much," Bucky growled lowly. Your dismissive protests of his praise were captured by his mouth, kissing you more while he trailed his metal fingers down your stomach, slipping them into your panties.

Beautiful dilated blues gazed at you, and you arched into him, pulling at the short strands of his hair at the back when he cupped your heat and squeezed it. The moan that escaped you was hungrily captured again, hushing you by kissing.

And Steve shifted behind you, making you still in realization.

"Steve is sleeping," you murmured half-heartedly, feeling Steve shift slightly behind you, but Bucky chuckled, the absolute menace that he was, his fingers prodded at your slick entrance, "Gotta be real quiet then, hmm?" he groaned.

"Buck…" You started, only to be shut off by one finger inching inside, and your breath hitched.

"These are not helping," he groaned, caressing and nipping at the marks Steve left on you earlier.

You gripped onto his back, fingers digging into his skin as retribution for the pleasure he was providing you. Bucky nipped at the skin right under your ear, making you squirm. He pushed his second finger inside, setting a languid pace, and let out a rather low growl.

You moaned into his ear, licking the skin on the side of his neck, nipping. God, he smelled like temptation, and you felt weak.

You cried in delight as you felt his fingers hit the spot he was privy to.

You felt parched, and you needed him.

"I know, I know. Good fucking girl," he rumbled, shifting onto his back and pulling you effortlessly on top of him. You stumbled against his chest, breathless, limbs tangled.

You froze for a second, glancing at Steve, but he was still fast asleep, his steady breathing undisturbed.

When you looked back at Bucky, he was grinning up at you, dazed and smug, his eyes glinting wickedly.

You had a good retort ready, but he curled his fingers, turning the words into a moan, and his other hand weaved into your hair, bringing you close to his mouth and sucking your lower lip.

"Quiet, pretty girl. Don't wanna disturb him. Do we?" You bit onto his jaw, holding back the moans that were trying to escape.

Bucky adjusted you in his arms, pressing you against his strong chest, his fingers fucking your wet and welcoming heat. "Hmm. Fuck, you smell divine," he grunted.

Your teeth grazed his skin, his scent hit you tenfold, and the pleasure made you heady.

"Beautiful," Bucky mumbled, his fingers curled expertly inside, and you teetered on the edge of pleasure, breath caught.

"And mine. Ours," Bucky added, moaning against the corner of your mouth, his hips thrusting up against your thigh. The tickling sensation of his hardness made you squirm, and Bucky's languid thrusts turned faster.

"Bucky," You moaned, and he captured your mouth in a sloppy kiss.

"Yeah? Gonna cum, aren't you? Fuck. My perfect girl," he encouraged, and you nodded, mouth falling open, speechless, while your pussy gripped onto his fingers. The sensation hit you fast, clutching you into the depths of pleasure.

Bucky held you tightly, kissing your jaw as you rode your orgasm. He pulled his fingers out slowly, and you whimpered when he brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean. His eyes shut for a moment. "Bucky," you breathed. The sight always mortified and did things to you.

"I wanna eat you," he muttered hoarsely, his voice humming through his chest, making your heart flutter.

"But I know you can't keep quiet if I get my mouth on you," he chuckled condescendingly, pushing his boxers down, and your eyes widened, looking at him pointedly.

You shook your head at him, this time more vehemently, but Bucky's smug grin only widened as he adjusted you properly, and your hands held onto him for stability. He nudged you with a wink, giving himself a stroke and slotting his tip at your entrance. Your hesitation vanished with how good it felt.

You both could be quiet, right?

Your breath hitched as he slowly rocked from underneath, and you collapsed onto his broad chest.

"Are you close already?" He cooed, completely sheathed inside you. Bucky gritted his teeth when he felt you clench him.

Your breath caught as your fingers gripped at his t-shirt, and your mouth muffled with bites.

Bucky was making you speechless, wild, and a moaning mess.

A loud guttural groan escaped him, and you hushed him pointedly.

"Fuck, I can't help it," He remarked.

****

When Captain Rogers wakes up. Teehee!

Feeling the knot in your stomach tighten, you nipped at his collarbone. Bucky's palm flexed on your hip, pulling you more into him, and the slight pain it caused made you clench onto him tightly while pleasure rippled through your body.

Bucky hissed, muttering how perfectly you milked him. When his tip kissed your cervix, you moaned.

"Mmm…feels like heaven. Doesn't it?" Bucky hissed, pushing your t-shirt to the side harshly and biting your shoulder. Your nails dug into his biceps, metal and flesh alike, tightly. The contrast urged you on more.

Your t-shirt--Steve's t-shirt--rucked up high with all the thrusting, and you pushed Bucky's t-shirt just a bit up to feel his skin against yours--taut, muscular, soft, scarred, and all yours. "You're so pretty, Buck," You sighed happily, his hardness feeling so full and fulfilling, and you felt the familiar rush as you careened into pleasure.

A sleepy snort broke the moment, followed by a large, steady hand wrapping around your waist, halting your movement. The pleasure that had been building crashed just as fast, leaving you teetering on the edge. You almost wailed in frustration.

You and Bucky turned at the same time, cheek-to-cheek, to face the culprit.

Steve was awake--barely. Propped up on one elbow, his face was adorably scrunched, hair sleep-mussed, eyes narrowed at the two of you with faux disapproval. He let out a deep, raspy chuckle, the sound rolling through your body teasingly, making you squirm against Bucky.

You unknowingly clenched him just a bit, and Bucky groaned, rocking into you.

Bucky's stubble tickled your cheek as he spoke, his chuckle vibrating through his chest.

"Hands off, Steve. We're in the middle of something," Bucky growled, emphasizing his point with a deep thrust. No one could stop the moan coming from you. The pleasure building again.

When Steve tapped your cheek, you opened your eyes to see his amused grin. In the next instant, Steve straddled Bucky, towering over you from behind. His hand tightened around your waist before you were haphazardly lifted off Bucky.

Both you and Bucky hissed at the sudden loss of contact.

You expected Steve to throw you onto the bed, but no. Your eyes widened as you looked at Bucky, who looked back with an expression of both amusement and irritation.

Steve smacked your butt, and you squealed, trying hard to steady yourself on Bucky.

Steve didn't give you time. He pulled you up against his warm chest, discarding your--his--t-shirt and throwing away his to the side. Bucky's gaze shifted to your tits, and he grinned, his both hands coming up to squeeze them.

"Can't help yourself, Buck. Can you?" Steve taunted. Bucky cursed, throwing empty threats at Steve. Steve angled your hips, rubbing his tip against your slick.

Oh, Fuck! Your eyes widened.

You collapsed on Bucky at the sensation, and he steadied you.

"STEVE…Holy…" You gasped as Steve entered you slowly from behind without much resistance, simultaneously bending you onto Bucky.

Bucky was still hard, and he twitched against your tummy, hot and wet.

"Gotta teach him a lesson," Steve said, and honestly, you didn't care. You just want them to stop edging you.

Bucky bared his teeth in sweet agony as he moved to touch himself, but Steve was faster, and he swatted Bucky's hand away.

"Nuh-uh, you're gonna watch while I make our pretty girl feel good," Steve chuckled darkly, his broad frame engulfing you as he nuzzled your neck, placing soft kisses on your shoulder.

"Steve," Bucky gritted in annoyance, trying to squirm away.

"Can't take one order," Steve mocked, riling Bucky up, his hand splayed on the inside of your right thigh and spread you some more, firmly adjusting you on Bucky's torso.

"Fuckkkkk," You cried.

"You're not my boss," Bucky growled challengingly. You could feel him squirm under you both.

"Is that so?" Steve hummed from over your shoulder, too pleased with himself. His hands loosened the grip around you and moved to Bucky's jaw while Steve's other hand held your waist, hoisting you up just a bit. You held onto his forearm with both hands as you felt your knees wobble.

"You're such a punk," Bucky chuckled, his eyes blown in hazy lust. And with a single tap against his lips, Bucky sucked onto his thumb. The sight was hot and was making you delirious with need. You clenched around Steve, and a breathy gasp turned into a moan when Steve pulled out and thrust into you.

Your nails dug into Steve's arm harshly as the pleasure wrecked you.

Bucky pulled you and Steve on top of him and Steve eased you gently onto Bucky and pinned his hands beside him. The angled thrust had you almost coming. Almost.

Their weight and warmth added to your pleasure. Steve adjusted your hips as he pounded you from behind.

Steve nudged against your neck, propping against your shoulder as he leaned toward Bucky.

"I said no funny business. Didn't I?" Steve reminded Bucky, their banter holding nothing back as Steve pounded into you without breaking pace while Bucky kissed your parted mouth.

Bucky winked. "You have no right demanding shit from me, punk." he traced the slightly dark marks on the expanse of your chest, ones that Steve took his time leaving earlier.

Steve's breathless laugh tickled your throat as he pulled Bucky for a kiss, effectively squishing you between them. The angle only made you scream as pleasure shot through you.

"Easy there," Bucky warned Steve.

"FUCKK…" Steve lifted you off Bucky slightly, his one arm wrapping around you carefully, firmly, resting both of your weights on his knees, straddling Bucky.

"Don't worry, Sweetheart. I aim to please. You know that," Steve said to Bucky while adjusting Bucky's cock directly where you were connected, rubbing it gently on your clit, and you gasped, squirming away from his grip. The sensation was driving you nuts.

All three of you moaned in sync. A litany of curses spewed.

You threw your head onto Steve's shoulder, both hands gripping his forearm as he rocked into you.

"Eyes on me," Bucky demanded, squeezing your tit and pinching your nipple. It felt like a Herculean task to open your eyes, but you did, meeting his darkened blues. He parted his lips, tongue peeking out as he forced you closer. Steve loosened his grip, maneuvering you closer to Bucky.

"You smell so fucking good," Bucky grunted, taking you in a searing kiss.

"Look at you. So needy. Fuck, I could do this all day," Steve moaned, increasing his pace. Despite the pleasure coursing through, both you and Bucky rolled your eyes at him in sync, and a few breathy chuckles escaped you.

"Shut up," Steve exclaimed, chuckling. Steve unwound one of his forearms and trailed it up Bucky's chest, carding through Bucky's short locks as he tugged them.

"OH FUCKKK…" Bucky moaned lewdly, baring his teeth and biting his lower lip.

"Can't take one order now, can you?" Steve hissed as his pace faltered, he was close, fucking sporadically.

Bucky intertwined his fingers with yours with a squeeze that spoke of love amidst the filthy, noisy mess you all were making. Steve placed an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, nipping as his fingers from Bucky's hair moved to place his large palm on his chest, right above Bucky's heart.

Bucky's erection rubbed against you and Steve hard and fast, right where you were joined.

"You're close, aren't you, Buck," Steve grunted as he rolled his hips, pressing you sensually against Bucky.

The manly groans, their scent, and their warmth, added to the sweet sensations…Holy Shitz! You were coming for the second time that day around Steve.

"I love you both. FUCK!" Steve moaned, thrusting a couple more times before you felt the hot white ropes filling you up, and you came tumbling down as white-hot pleasure throbbed your senses as you milked him, clutching onto both of them so tightly that it would have left their bones broken were they not supersoldiers.

"Oh shit!" Bucky groaned as he rocked upwards, cumming all over your front and his.

Your body flailed as you collapsed into Bucky, and so did Steve. Steve's taut, sweaty, muscular chest weighed you down onto Bucky, and his partial weight felt heavenly on you.

"I love you," You breathed, eyes closed as you nuzzled into Bucky's soft t-shirt, the stars still exploding behind your lids.

You felt euphoric!

The three of you laid there for a while.

You didn't--couldn't--open your eyes when you were readjusted, now lying on Steve.

Steve's laughter rumbled against your back as you felt Bucky move over you.

"Open 'em, sweet girl," Bucky cooed against your mouth, and you did. He grinned widely.

"You got one more in you, don't you, doll?" Bucky asked. His cock was hard, tip nudging your slick heat.

You bit your lip, not directly answering, but rocking against his tip. Bucky gave a dazzling smile as he inched inside you.

Oh, you were going to be sore and would need all the rest, but you couldn't deny your man, could you now?

"Good girl," Bucky groaned as he gently adjusted you above Steve.

"I love me some supersoldier sandwich," you managed to utter, your words broken and mostly turning into a moan.

"Oh, we're aware," Steve quirked, placing kisses alongside your neck, spreading your thighs wide, and holding them firmly as Bucky fucked you in missionary on Steve.

"Feels good, Buck? Is my cum warming you up well?" Steve taunted, revving Bucky up a bit more.

Steve moved strands of hair out of your face and brushed Bucky's forehead, and you could feel his hardness poking your hips.

Bucky groaned as he fucked with much more vigor. Dear Heavens! You felt every thrust, and it also made you conscious of your weight pressing into Steve.

A thought, while quite stupid, crept into your fucked out mind unknowingly.

"Hey, hey…too much?" Bucky asked, stalling his movements. You blushed, shaking your head, and tilted behind and looked up at a concerned Steve.

"Are you okay?" You asked him. You saw the look of recognition in his eyes, and his concern etched away.

"I am, sweetheart," Steve sighed, adjusting you more firmly, and you squealed. Bucky tapped your cheek, and you met his gaze reluctantly.

"Buck, love some sense into her, harder," Steve chuckled, placing a kiss on your temple, his hands massing your thighs.

You gasped. "I didn't mean…OH FUCKKKK," You started, but Bucky's thrust cut you off.

"BUCKY," You moaned.

"Sorry, pretty girl. Captain's orders," Bucky chuckled, fucking you maddeningly fast.

"Oh, now you follow his orders." You cried and arched on Steve's naked body.

Steve's hand tugged at Bucky's hair. And Bucky moaned, biting onto your chest. Steve turned your knees, helping you wrap them around Bucky's, and you clutched onto Bucky tightly.

Steve's hand crept between you and Bucky and rubbed your overstimulated clit. It really didn't take long before you felt the orgasm consume you.

"I'm…"

"Cum for me." Bucky breathed against your skin, his stubble rough and sensual against your chest as he sucked on your tit.

You were thankful that your home was far off civilization, completely private, because the way you shouted, you bet people would have surely freaked the fuck out.

"Holy Shit!" Bucky's hips stuttered, and soon he was filling you up, moaning loudly in that deep voice that made your pussy flutter.

~

"I love you," Steve whispered reverently, and you hummed blissfully, unable to form any words in response after those body-shattering orgasms. You fell into a dreamless void almost immediately, ears ringing as your body trembled in the aftermath of pleasure. You had no idea how long you slept.

"Come on, doll, gotta clean you up." You were barely aware of the events that followed, only remembering being carried to the guest bedroom vividly.

"Gotta change the sheets, doll. Sleep here," Steve said as he gently adjusted you on the queen mattress. Steve and Bucky's muffled voices sifted through your foggy mind.

"You're a fucking idiot, Stevie. I love you," you heard Bucky laugh, and you chuckled, mentally agreeing with him, though you weren't entirely sure what they were talking about.

Steve scoffed playfully, muttering something at Bucky that only made him laugh harder. Then, Steve tucked you in with a warm blanket, placing a tender kiss on your cheek.

"Get going, Buck. You promised to finish up with the laundry. I'll make dinner," Steve said.

"I'll help, too," you mumbled into the pillow.

Steve chuckled, peppering your neck with kisses that made you squirm from the sensation. "You're going to sleep and get all the rest. Understood?" he declared.

"Yes, Captain Rogers," you breathed, relaxing as your weight sank into the mattress. Steve's kiss lingered on your cheek long after, and you heard the floorboards creak as he shuffled away. The door groaned softly when he stepped into the living room.

God, one of you seriously needed to oil the door. The croaking was getting creepy.

Moments later, the bed dipped beside you. Bucky's warm fingers slid through your hair, massaging your scalp with slow, gentle strokes.

"Don't make me come in there, Bucky," Steve's voice carried from the living room, laced with warning.

Bucky chuckled against your neck. "He's such a prick sometimes," he groaned, his breath warm against your skin.

"I heard that," Steve's voice was much closer now. You chuckled sleepily.

"Steve tore your favorite bra," Bucky stage-whispered.

"Huh?" you mumbled, confused. You weren't wearing a bra, though. You blinked your eyes open, only to see Bucky being dragged out of the room.

Ummm…I'll be hiding and working on those amazing ASKS in my inbox, if you need me… 🫣🤭🙂‍↕️

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[mercurial-chuckles]

I met them, and now I’m their queen!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes | Stucky x F!Reader Warnings: Fluff | Language | Hot supersoldiers alert | Clingy supersoldiers | We've got game supersoldiers | Protective and borderline obsessive | Wet thoughts | Allusions to hot nights | Slight angst but happy ending | Confession | Friends to Lovers trope | Poly relation | Long one ~5k | Written in a feverish haze. Any, I mean, any craziness can and will be blamed on deliriously Nyquiled-mind! Lemme know if I'm missing anything. A/N: It really started with, "Let's write a drabble," and well, IT DID NOT end up being a drabble! But blame the two hot super soldier specimens for taking reins and striding through dominantly. This was supposed to be published (along with three other fics) on New Year's, but times have been testing! Anyhoo, Sydney and I—ever indulgently—worked ourselves up with some ideas and this burgeoned, and we both decided to collaborate having similar title and prompt. Inspiration: — confession to get it off their chest before the new year starts Read Sydney's I met them, and now I'm their princess and smother her story with love and affection! Forever grateful to Sydney for giving me the push to publish this and for giving this long-ass fic a read while I was sick and whiny! @buck-star Also, if there are any Windows 11 users, do you know an easy way of typing the em dash (Alt+0151 is no longer an option) Every time I have to use, I have to copy and paste and it's been a pain in my butt. So, any shortcuts would be a great help! Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner credits to me. Picture credits to internet! Divider credits to @buck-star Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Indulge Away!

'Have you been Naughty or Nice?'

I've been disastrous. You thought, snorting, looking at the quite colorful, only-for-adult-eyes kind of a poster.

While walking briskly to the truck in the parking lot, your eyes inadvertently fell on the shirtless guy with a Santa hat and red trousers posing sultrily. The show had been for Christmas Eve, now nearly a week old. Lucky patrons!

And your useless, absolutely horny mind brought images of two rugged, burly-looking muscular supersoldiers adorning the costume, and you shuddered.

Nope. No. No. Do not go there.

*Thud*

The distant sound startled you, and you looked down the deserted street but found nothing. You became aware of your surroundings and realized you were standing before a shady-looking strip club. Heart pounding, you hurried toward the truck you'd parked at the end of the street.

The local hill town was vastly different from NYC. By 8 p.m., the main street was completely vacant; the local stores were all closed for the night except for the convenience store at the gas station on the end of the main street and a local vet hospital, both of which you paid a visit tonight.

You quickly got into the truck and navigated out of the small town towards your temporary abode, decked in the woods near the lake.

It was New Year's Eve, and the entire day's theme was a series of unfortunate events and bad decisions.

Earlier that afternoon, having used up all the leftovers, takeouts, and groceries, you decided to venture out to find food. You cursed yourself for being so pathetic and unplanned. It was a hard bet you'd find a store open today or tomorrow.

You should have planned better, but it was what it was, and your poor mind couldn't possibly think logically when it was going through so much. So, forgiving yourself, you decided to drive to the town, hoping to get something to stock up the tiny kitchen for the next couple of days before you can go grocery shopping like a responsible adult.

But lo and behold, you had a flat tire. After groaning and cursing at your fate for a whole three minutes, you realize your aunt mentioned that you could take her truck around if it's still working.

You grabbed the keys and went to the garage. The truck seemed in good condition, with no flat tires. GREAT! You tried to start, but it won't budge. The check engine light blinked red.

Upon further inspection, you realized the spark plug was out and saw a pair of them in a cabby on the metal rack. You weighed your options, changing the spark plug in a somewhat cold and dim-lit garage or changing a tire in the chill out in the dark. It was an easy choice.

So, for the next two hours, you replaced the spark plug. Huffing and out of breath, you started the engine, which purred to your satisfaction. Feeling accomplished, you went to the only open convenience store and stocked up on some groceries. Fiona, the cashier, was a middle-aged lady who didn't talk much, unlike the other folks in the town.

When you went to pay, you realized you had left your phone. You must have left it in the cabin when you went to search for the truck keys.

Ugh! Sometimes, you hated that you remembered directions. It made you less dependent on your phone. Luckily, you had your wallet on you.  

After bidding bye to Fiona, you loaded the two brown bags into the truck. It was then you heard the yowling and the hisses. You saw the small white kitten by the lamppost in the parking. It looked like an Angora. She hurt her leg and was profusely bleeding. Your heart tugged painfully.

You unzipped your coat slightly and carefully lifted her up. She clutched at your shirt, meowing. You rushed to the convenience store inside, scaring sweet Fiona almost to death. You explained about the kitten, and she gave directions to the vet. She even called, telling them you would be coming with an injured cat.

So, you thanked her and decided to walk since it was not far, and the poor kitty seemed far too comfortable in your arms. As soon as you reached the corner house in the location, a young guy and a woman were waiting outside. The woman introduced herself as Darlene. She seemed nice and took the kitten gently from your hands. You waited for a bit while Darlene checked on the injuries.

However, the weirdly creepy receptionist, Mark, seemed to take too much interest in you, and he asked questions. A lot of questions. And he made you pretty uncomfortable. Luckily, Darlene walked out to tell you all was fine and that she would keep a watch on the kitten overnight. You were grateful that it wasn't anything serious. You promised to drop by tomorrow after she said it was okay for you to visit since it was a holiday.

Mark told you he'd walk you to the truck and wouldn't take no for an answer. By some miracle, Darlene understood and called him for something she needed. He begrudgingly got to work, giving you time to escape.

Yeah, it had been one crazy evening. Now that you think of it, the past month has been the same way.

****

In retrospect, it started with you getting buzzed after the Thanksgiving dinner at the compound. The seemingly innocent discussion with Vision about the white hole and string theory shifted to abstract physics. Then, it veered to your favorite multiverse causality, which brought to this discussion about your supersoldiers.

"You have such affection for them," Vision remarked.

"Of course I do," you replied breezily, sipping down the espresso martini. "They're my best friends." You grinned.

Vision tilted his head, studying you, dissecting your thoughts. "It is more than that," he said gently. "You love them. And it transcends friendship."

"What? No," you scoffed, a nervous laugh bubbling up. "That's... I mean, Vision, come on. It's not like that."

You defended, deterred, and denied. And you argued passionately with Vision that he was wrong and entirely out of his depth.

He gave you a smile. "One only argues this fervently when the truth threatens to unravel their carefully constructed narrative. No?"

And the point hit home like Thor's lightning.

Love? That wasn't love. That was friendship. Mutual respect. Admiration, loyalty, and the way they made you feel so cared for, and so so protective, it ought to be friendship! That's all it was. Wasn't it? Friends spend all day, every day together. Friends, just know what you need before you even say it... Friends do that. Totally!

You shook your head, muttering about Vision overanalyzing human emotions, and excused yourself to refill your drink. But his words trailed you, seeping in and breaking every carefully shackled, dreamy thought you occasionally had.

And your eyes landed on them. They were in the kitchen with Sam and Bruce. When your eyes met Steve's, he was already gazing at you. He wiggled your favorite ice cream in his hand, scooped it into a bowl, and winked at you. And Bucky's eyes softened when you met his gaze. He was in a mid-argument with Sam and casually leaned beside Steve, giving you a grin.

Your breath stilled. And something fucking snapped in place, and that realization disrupted everything.

Holy Shit!

Sitting on the nearby couch, you trembled as the flooding thoughts overtook your senses and limbs.

You've been inseparable for years now. You've known Steve even longer since he came out of the ice. Steve and you both were there to help Bucky through his healing. It had been a long journey through ups and downs, but you all were here with a somewhat stable life.

Now, there were times you felt extremely frustrated with the way they treated you, extremely protective and like you were delicate. They were there through your every whim and craziness; likewise, you were there for them. Though initially fostering a crush on both, becoming friends with them sidetracked your crush, or that was what you thought. Apparently not!

That rigid fact of love and its effects took hold of you, and you became even more aware of your predicament as time passed. Your thoughts buzzed as Steve casually sat beside you, eating ice cream while Bucky stole a few spoons from yours. The situation worsened when they fussed over your unusually quiet behavior, asking a hundred and some questions if something happened or if you were falling sick. You pulled yourself together and told them you were fine and downright rejected them staying over.

You woke up drenched that night, not from a nightmare; it was more of a wet dream starring two supersoldiers. What followed was you being hyper-focused on every little thing and how obsessively protective they were with you. And your heart was craving more, basking at their every little action.

It was bad.

And it got worse as the dreams continued and their worry for you catapulted, wondering what's going on with you.

Now, personal space was not a concept with both men. They were practically living two doors away in your apartment complex. And they were always around you.

You were starting to realize how fucked up the situation was. There was no way in the world this could work out. You loved them both. And you were acutely aware of their love for each other. How was this ever gonna work out?

Afraid of losing them, knowing you had no defenses against their piercing awareness of every flicker of your expression and every erratic heartbeat, you decided to take some time away. After all, distance helped you hate your family less. Out of sight, out of mind, right? You thought, why not try?

But it was not that easy to suddenly up and leave. Opportunity came in the form of a mission in Arizona. It was a level-2 mission, a low-level, routine assignment, far below the high-stakes operations you usually handled with the Avengers. Kert Harrison, the mission lead, seemed pleasantly surprised when you volunteered.

You let Steve and Bucky know only after you were strapped into the jet, delivering the news as casually as you could manage: the team needed a tech assistant, and you'd joined at the last minute.

Thus started the careful ghosting.

And the group chat exploded with messages. Bucky demanded the details, cursing up a storm, and you replied, 'Chill out, Sergeant, you know I can't communicate that stuff.'

You've ignored them after that. The mission was simple, walk-in-the-park simple, walk-in-the-house simple. Kept you occupied, though. But once the mission was done, the pit in your stomach grew, and the thought of seeing them terrified you.

"A little more time would help," you told yourself, "Just a little more time to breathe."

Knowing that Captain Softly Stern and Sergeant Toughly Tender would be your doom if you were anywhere close to them in this mindset, you ran for the hills. Quite literally.

Your aunt Ellen had a cabin in a small mountain town in NC. Conveniently, she was in Hawaii, leaving her cabin all alone. So, you decided it could use some company.

You then dropped a vague message telling them your aunt needed you, a family emergency, which was far from the truth.

And it sounded like the perfect Christmas. To be home alone.

But the problem was the cabin was not just lonely. It was alone lonely. The nearest town was 20 minutes away. Decked somewhere in the deep woods, a few other cabins surrounded near the lake. It suited Aunt Ellen, though. She occasionally came up to write or chill from the hustle and bustle of California.

And it didn't help that the whole setting felt like a Stephen King novel waiting to manifest. You couldn't help but internally whimper, but you sucked it up, pushing yourself to make it through.

You ignored the worried calls, always leaving them a text reply with a vaguely convincing excuse.

Guilt burgeoned your chest steadily for not spending Christmas with them. For the past few years, you three cozied up on the winter nights, cooking, baking, arguing, decorating, binge watching & cringe watching and the whole prospect had become a tradition.

Two days before Christmas, Steve had left a message asking if you could make it home. Home. He called it home, and your heart pained.

'Not likely, Steve.' You texted him.

'🥺🥹😭💔' he replied, making you almost break down and cry. He never sent any sort of emojis, and you always teased him about it. 'Emojis do the whole work and some, Steve.' You had told him a long, long while ago.

Steve might have thought this was the time to come after your heart with the series of emojis he sent. You had no guts to reply.

Bucky, however, seemed to stop buying your excuses after you ignored his calls. He stopped calling and texting altogether. It was typical Bucky. He got passively aggressive until you gave in. And you mustered a ton of courage to not just call or text.

Christmas morning, you woke up feeling like the Grinch. The memory of the worst Christmas when you were fourteen has been replaced by Christmas this year. This one felt far worse.

Steve left a voice message. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart. It's not the same without you." He sighed, voice soft and tattered. "We…miss you," his soft, broken voice shattered your heart even more.

Bucky, on the other hand, ignored you royally. But by the afternoon, he left a text with two words, 'Merry Christmas.' And your shattered heart further splintered.

This brilliant need-some-space vacation idea was supposed to be an escape, a way to clear your mind, to get over everything swirling inside. But it was only making things worse. It felt like you were meditating on them, and only them?

Ugh!

You mustered courage and called them that evening. Bucky picked up first, his voice gruff, replies short and clipped. "Fine. You doing good?" You hummed. "How's your aunt?" Steve piped in. They must've put you on speaker.

"She's ok," you said, and before they prodded, you asked them about their day. They mentioned getting your gifts, but other than that, they hadn't done much. The conversation felt hollow, and guilt weighed heavy on you. You felt like the worst person in the world.

Hurriedly, you said your goodbyes, fighting the tears that threatened to spill.

And then, you succumbed to the loneliness that clung to your heart and the messiness that tangled your thoughts. You spent six agonizing days in the cabin in the woods, fighting every instinct to run back to them.

That was a week ago. Seven horrible days ago. Today was New Year's Eve, and you thought you could use some sustenance, but it had already been one hell of a day.

~

Driving back to the cabin, you felt someone was watching you. You shook it off, chalking it up to the weird encounter with Mark. He'd set your nerves on edge, that's all. And at least the kitten was alright.

Pulling into the cabin's garage, you parked your car, not noticing the unfamiliar vehicle parked on the other side. You made your way to the other side to grab the grocery bags. The cold mountain air nipped at your skin.

The sound of boots against the gravel made you freeze. Your heart slammed into your ribs, and your pulse raced. There were a few other cabins nearby, but why would someone trespass, you wondered.

Was it Mark? Had he followed you? You grabbed the nearest thing within reach, a hammer, from the small wooden table.

The sound of heavy steps approached closer and closer, and you tightened your grip, preparing to swing. You almost threw the hammer, too, but realizing who stood there made you whimper in relief and dread.

"What the fuck? What are you two doing here?" you yelled, confused and rattled.

Steve briskly walked toward you, his expression concerned. "Is that blood?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he tried to get a look at your neck and hands.

Oh? You glanced at yourself and then up at them.

"Are you hurt?" Steve repeated his question sternly, pulling down the zipper to your jacket, completely unbothered.

"HEY!" You shook your head, stepping away from his hold. At least you tried.

Before you could protest, Bucky came closer, his brow furrowed as he unzipped your jacket, swatting away your tiny hand. Both of them froze, staring at your shirt. You glanced down and groaned. You'd forgotten you were wearing a Captain America T-shirt now covered in blood.

Steve blinked, visibly surprised. They had no idea you owned any Captain America merchandise, let alone a few bobbleheads, one of a metal-armed man and another of the man himself holding his shield, both of which you'd secretly bought earlier this year.

Bucky turned you around, cold fingers holding your chin up, demanding if you were hurt. Your breath hitched, looking up at him. His stubble was slightly grown, and the stressed look on his face made you more worried. You glanced at Steve; he looked like he hadn't slept in days, and his knuckles looked marred like he had been going at the punching bags.

"I'm fine." You whispered, not meeting their gaze and staring at the soft blue undershirt covering Bucky's broad chest. Steve had taken the hammer you still held in your hands and carefully placed them on the table.

"Start talking before you give us a heart attack," he sternly demanded.

You rolled your eyes and cleared your hazy mind. You took a steadying breath before explaining to them that it wasn't your blood and what had actually happened with the kitten, omitting Mark of course. When you finished, you glanced up at them, who looked at you angrily.

Bucky sighed, and he took another deliberate step closer to you. "Family emergency, huh?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Then why are you here playing house in the middle of nowhere while your aunt Ellen is in Hawaii?"

Your eyes widened, "How the hell…?" your question faltered on your lips as you caught the guilty look in Steve's eyes while Bucky shrugged smugly.

"Never mind. Don't answer that," you muttered, reminding yourself that you were talking to Captain America & the ex-Winter Soldier.

Steve zipped up your jacket when you shivered from the sudden gust of wind. "Let's go inside," he ordered. You nodded, reaching for the bags, but Bucky was already there, pushing you aside.

"Get your ass inside. I've got them," he grumbled, clearly angry at you for ghosting them.

You walked with Steve and Bucky beside you, fumbling for your keys, but Steve simply pushed the door open. "Don't bother," he mumbled.

"Unbelievable," you muttered. "You pried open the door?" you squeaked.

"Your phone was inside. Your car was outside. No sign of you," Bucky said defensively. "What the fuck did you expect us to do?"

When you glanced at Steve, who tended to be less of a rule-breaking hazard than Bucky, he shrugged, "Oh, I was this close to breaking it down. Thanks to Bucky, we managed to keep it intact." Steve chuckled, holding the door open for you and Bucky to enter.

"Ugh," you groaned, storming into the cabin with them trailing behind.

"Nice shirt, by the way," Steve commented as you walked in, "Didn't know you were a fan."

"Of course you like it," Bucky chuckled, glancing at Steve with that grin you were all too familiar with. Steve straightened up proudly.

"Do you also have a Winter Soldier plushie hiding somewhere? No judgment if you do." Bucky snickered, reaching you, dropping the bags on the counter, and effectively cornering you in the small kitchen.

Your face burned. "It's my aunt's. She's a fan. I found it lying around," you lied poorly.

"Uh-huh," Bucky smirked, and Steve grinned, knowing all the signs fully well.

You cleaned up your hands, washing out the traces of blood here and there. You felt agitated. They were here, the stupidly gorgeous men. Your friends. Your everything. They couldn't possibly understand the volcanic arc stretching your mind right now.

You grabbed a bottle from the neatly stacked row in the cabinet, placed it on the counter, and unscrewed the cap. Sidestepping Bucky, you quickly made your way to the living room. As soon as you sat down, you chugged half the bottle, feeling the cool liquid help clear some of the tension that had been building in your chest.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" you asked, feeling utterly exhausted and emotionally drained.

You heard them approach you as Steve settled beside you and Bucky sat on the wooden coffee table before you. For a split second, you thought it would give away, but the table looked sturdy.

You sighed and refocused on getting your brain to work, but it felt impossible with them so close.

Steve took your left hand into his large, firm grip. He traced his thumb along your wrist, his touch sending waves of warmth flooding through you, and for a moment, your heartbeat stuttered, racing beneath his fingertips. You tried to steady your breath, but it only intensified the sensation.

"What are you doing here, doll?" Bucky asked seriously, and you averted your gaze, trying to pull away your hand from Steve's, but he wouldn't let go.

"Steve," you muttered softly, helplessly, and he reluctantly let go.

"Uh…I…" you started, heart thundering. This was supposed to be your solace, your way out of the whole thing, and here you were being asked to confront. You hated it.

Your head started pounding. You rubbed your fingers to your head.

Bucky stood abruptly. "Alright, sit tight. I'll make you some tea. It'll ease your headache."

"No!" you snapped, your voice rising. "Stop that. Do not make tea."

Bucky froze mid-step, genuinely baffled by your sudden outburst. "Okayyy. No tea," he said slowly, folding his arms. "But I'm not giving you coffee. You'll end up awake all night, and it gives you a stomachache," Bucky argued.

You buried your head in your hands, feeling overwhelmed and helpless. How do you not become hyper-aware of all these little things? How? They never would get it.

Steve leaned closer, still maintaining distance, but his hand caressed your hair, comforting and enraging your senses, "Hey, did you eat anything besides cereal?" he asked, and you looked at him confused.

You couldn't help but scoff internally. How the hell would you know that, Rogers? But you didn't voice your thoughts aloud. Knowing he knew you better.

"Okay, we are not talking until you eat something. Go change, wash up. I'll make you something," he ordered.

With a dejected sigh, you dragged yourself up and headed for the shower.

The shower helped, mostly. It washed away the blood and tiredness, surely, but also washed some of your inhibitions away.

You headed back to the kitchen, where you heard them.

"Slice it, Buck, not Julienne."

"It tastes the same. How does it matter?" Bucky argued.

You couldn't help but chuckle. This was familiar. This felt like home. They were home. And there they were, making sandwiches and looking utterly comfortable, their shoes and jackets discarded. They also looked sinfully hot, those tight undershirts clinging to their muscles, and the agonizing thoughts returned.

"I miss your t-shirt," Steve quipped with a grin, eyeing your plain red t-shirt and leggings as you walked closer. "Again, that's my aunt's. Get over it, Steven." You muttered.

Bucky leaned against the countertop, his intense gaze fixed on yours. You walked up to him slowly.

"Sorry for yelling at you," you told him sincerely. His gaze searched yours, and his insanely pink lips curled into a small smile.

"C'mere," he said, his voice low and warm, pulling you into a hug before you could respond.

You melted into him immediately, feeling the heat of his body against yours, the familiar comfort of his embrace washing over you. That perfect mix of musk and something undeniably Bucky wafted over your senses and calmed the chaos inside your head. You tightened your arms around him, the ache of missing him--of missing them--filling your chest.

You could feel the deep rumble of his chest against your cheek, the sound vibrating through you, sending a warmth that felt grounding and exhilarating. And when he tightened his hold around you, pulling you just a little closer, your breath hitched. You flushed, overwhelmed by the intensity of it.

"'S all good, ok?" he murmured softly, his voice so reassuring it made your heart ache. "Let's eat."

Reluctantly, you pulled away, blinking as you tried to steady yourself, the flood of emotions threatening to spill over.

When you walked towards Steve, he grinned at you, and you leaned your forehead against his large bicep, feeling it flex as he worked. His familiar warmth settled around you.

"I hate it when you don't take care of yourself," Steve said. You stepped away before Steve decided to lecture you more.

You grabbed the plates and started setting them aside, wanting to keep busy to avoid the tension in the room. Your furtive glances toward them didn't go unnoticed. Both Steve and Bucky were quiet as you ate in silence. You hated yourself for not suggesting that you play something on the TV to distract from the discomfiting silence. But you were paralyzed emotionally.

When you tried to clear the plates, Steve gently stopped you. You reluctantly handed him the plates, feeling small in the space between you.

Bucky seemed to notice your unease. "Want to have that tea now?" he asked quietly, his eyes never leaving you. You averted your eyes; instead, you leaned against the wall for support. You nodded in response, trying to pull yourself together but not quite succeeding.

Bucky moved to prepare the tea, and you let yourself stay quiet, not looking at him--at either of them--afraid that if you did, you'd spill everything you'd been trying to hold back.

You felt so pathetic and helpless. Wanting to seek their comfort but feeling that would be unjust.

And you watched Steve walk to you, wiping his hands on the towel before walking closer.

He reached for your hand, his grip warm, and it felt perfectly assuring. You could feel the tension in his fingers, the way he held you as if he already knew the answer to the question he was about to ask.

"Let me ask you something. Did something happen that you're hiding?"

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to answer.

The intensity of his look only seemed to make it harder. You shook your head slightly, your voice barely audible as you mumbled, "No."

"Did Buck or I hurt you?"

"No!" you said, loudly and firmly.

"Then why?" His voice softened even further.

You stared at him, feeling the truth stuck in your throat, tangled in a way that made speaking impossible. Your eyes drifted, landing on Bucky, who stood just a few feet away, his posture tense, his eyes flickering between you and Steve.

You couldn't bring yourself to do it. You couldn't say it. You'd spent years building something so beautiful with them, something so right. And if you let it out, if you gave voice to the fear and guilt swirling inside you, everything could come crashing down. What if you lost them? Everything between you, the connection, the love, the trust. What if it all fell apart because you were too weak to keep it together?

That thought should have stopped you, should have held you back.

But the tears welled in your eyes despite your best efforts to hide them. You pressed your palms against your temples, trying to stave off the pressure building inside you. Still, the overwhelming rush of emotion was too much.

"Hey, hey…" Steve's voice was soft, and suddenly, his hands were on you, gently pulling your hands away from your face, coaxing your gaze back to him. His eyes, filled with nothing but tenderness, locked onto yours. "It's okay. Whatever it is, you can tell us. We're not going anywhere. You're not going to lose us."

You couldn't stop the tears from falling now.

You had no idea what to say or what to do next. All you knew was that you had avoided them to overcome the feelings, but here you were, confronting them head-on.

"You've been my home, both of you," you whispered, voice trembling as you looked at Steve and then Bucky. They were both silent and looked almost terrified.

"I was scared when I realized that... that..." You couldn't finish the thought. Steve and Bucky's eyes locked on yours, looking like they were waiting for something.

"I'm scared, selfish, messy, and all complicated," you continued, your voice breaking with every syllable. "I'm not strong enough to lose you both…" You sucked in a shaky breath, fighting to keep your composure. "I'm selfish. To want something I don't deserve. And you might just hate me after I tell you."

You sounded so pathetic to your ears. You couldn't look at them anymore. You couldn't face them. Without thinking, you walked away, stumbling to the drawing room, where you collapsed onto the couch, curling in on yourself. You clutched your t-shirt tightly by the sides and let the tears flow freely, everything from guilt to pain to fear pouring out.

You felt Steve and Bucky both hurry towards you. Steve knelt before you, large palms rubbing your thighs to calm you.

"Look at me," Steve said, voice barely above a whisper. "Say it," his commanding tone was merely begging, pleading.

And you obeyed.

"I can't keep this in anymore, Steve. It's suffocating me. I love you both, and I'm so scared."

You said it, sealed your fate.

For a moment, there was nothing. Complete silence.

You could feel Steve's grip on your legs loosen, his hands falling away slowly as if the weight of your confession had stunned him. Then, Bucky's breath hitched from behind you. His presence shifted, the weight beside you on the couch telling you he sat beside you.

You shut your eyes, silently crying.

You did it. You messed up. Didn't you? You felt ashamed. This was the moment you feared the most. They'd never look at you the same way. You'd ruined everything.

"Do you think I'd let just anyone touch my hair?" Bucky asked, his voice low and trembling. You looked up, confused. What did that have to do with what you said?

"What?" You managed hoarsely.

"You," he said, his deep blue eyes locking onto yours. "I let you cut my hair. I hate when anyone touches it but with you... it's different. It's always been different."

"Bucky..." you whispered, but he didn't let you interrupt.

"I loved you the moment you held me close after that nightmare in Wakanda. Do you remember that? I was a mess, and you just… didn't let go. Not until I could breathe again. I broke your finger by mistake at how tight I held you." His voice broke, and he swallowed hard.

"I love Steve. I've always loved him. And then... I loved you, too. It scared the shit out of me, but it's the truth." Bucky sniffled, and continued, "Ever since Thanksgiving, you've been distant, and I was terrified, thinking I'd done something terrible and lost you forever. And it fucking hurts, sweetheart."

Your breath caught in your throat. You stood up, stumbling ungracefully as you stepped away, needing to breathe. Bucky moved behind you, his hands on your arms, steadying you. You let him hold you. He tugged you closer, your back against his strong chest, his arms winding on your stomach, letting you put all your weight onto him, effectively calming you.

Steve stepped forward, holding something small in his hand. Your eyes widened as he held up a familiar notebook.

"Do you remember this?" he asked softly.

You nodded, stunned. That's the tiny notebook you gave to him. Years ago, right after he came out of the ice.

Steve opened the notebook and flicked through the pages. Your breath hitched as you saw it filled with sketches of you, Bucky, and moments you'd shared.

"You told me to fill it with things I wanted to remember," Steve said, his voice warm and full of emotion. "But all I could think about was you. I was so scared to feel love again. I loved Bucky for so long, and then you came into my life, and I... I didn't know how to go about it."

Steve exchanged a brief, meaningful glance with Bucky. His eyes softened as he continued, "But then Bucky returned, and I realized he felt the same. I've never been very religious, doll, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't pray for this every darn day."

Bucky chuckled softly, the sound deep and reassuring. "Believe me, we'd be a mess without you," he said, gently kissing your hair. "I love you," he murmured.

"I love you," Steve echoed, gently kissing your cheek.

You blinked rapidly and your mind was reeling. The world seemed to stop around you. Your heart raced, and your breath caught in your throat as you processed their words. But then, confusion took over.

"I... I don't understand. I can't choose," you stammered, your heart torn between the joy and the overwhelming fear of what this meant.

"You don't have to," Bucky said firmly, lips touching your right ear sensually, sending shivers down your spine. "Steve and I are a package deal. You get him, you get me, and vice versa. Take it or leave it. Actually, scratch that. Just take it."

Your lips parted in disbelief, and looked at Steve. He nodded, looking at you hopefully. You let out a nervous chuckle.

"What did you put in that sandwich? I think I'm high," you mumbled, laughing softly.

Steve smirked, his eyes twinkling joyfully. "Apart from Bucky's horribly chopped tomatoes, nothing you don't like," he teased. He crouched slightly to kiss you softly. Just a barely present touch, but it lit a fire so quickly that you trembled. He tasted perfect, just like him, soft and manly.

Bucky followed suit, twirling you in his arms, lifting you to his level, his kiss more fervent, grounding you. He tasted musky and familiar, spicy and so so him.

You pulled back, wide-eyed, your heart racing.

"Oh, boy," you whispered, a dazed smile across your face.

The distant sound of fireworks startled you, and the three of you turned toward the window. Faint remnants of flickering lights lit up the sky. The neighbors must have set the fireworks on the lake.

"Happy New Year," Steve said softly, his hand finding yours and Bucky's.

"Happy New Year," Bucky echoed, his metal arm wrapping around your waist.

Happy New Year, indeed!

And tomorrow, you'd text your aunt out of courtesy, letting her know you have visitors over, while keeping all the lewd details to yourself. Then, you'd go to the vet to check on the kitten, which the three of you decide to adopt and name her Alpine. A purrfect New Year, indeed!

If you wanna be tagged in my works, add yourself here. <3 Please send me a message if you wanna be removed from the Tag list. :)

I need to update my Stucky Taglist. Forgive me if you haven't chosen to be tagged in this. Until I get things fixed, kindly bear with me :)

Tag list: @nekoannie-chan @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @bitchy-bi-trash @theallknown213 @tripletstephaniescp @rogerscut @greatenthusiasttidalwave @zaraomarrogers @shadowrose13-blog1 @king814318 @yiiiikesmish @steviebbboi @bernelflo @saiyanprincessswanie @blushingrn @looking1016 @mimisweetz @navyhua23 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @shadyloveobjects @alexxavicry @astheskycries @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @patzammit @soelstress @8crazy-freak8 @stellar-solar-flare @stuckysgal @bval-1 @slowlyshycomputer @avengersfan25 @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @thiquefunlover63 @blackhawkfanatic @notsostrangerthing @awkwardgiraffe726 @iamtamera @pebbles20 @ayayaeyato @starsrfun @harrysnovia @gingerplague @read-just-cant @iwudbutnah @tasersloth @daydreaming-lightly

[mercurial-chuckles]

Important!

Okay, some weird stuff has been happening on my blog. Most of the posts I've published don't show up under the fic-tag anymore. At least, I can't see them!

I've also made a few reblogs that just vanished--I can't see them on my blog or on the original posts I reblogged from. I realized this after a lot of digging. For instance, I recently reblogged posts from @saiyanprincessswanie @anika-ann @stellar-solar-flare @buck-star @ronearoundblindly and @buckets-and-trees and I can't find them anywhere. Not on my blog, not on theirs. These were big comment-reblogs I made in the last couple of days, so I know for sure which posts I reblogged. I have no clue how long this has been going on--it's just so frickin' random. Also, while talking to Stella (@stellar-solar-flare) yesterday, I realized that on a few posts, she could see my like notifications but not the reblogs.

And the kicker? I can't see most of my older fics--like 15 to 20 of them. They're just gone. Thank goodness I backed up most of them. I've raised a ticket and really hope this gets sorted out soon.

Until then, if you see my likes and no reblogs, this annoying little glitch is probably why. Just a heads-up: have a backup folder for your content, and spread the word to your friends and followers. 🥹

Is anyone else facing any issues?

[mercurial-chuckles]

You know, I usually don't let anon-hate get to me.

I've had a rough few months, and I just started finding some motivation to write again. But today, I woke up feeling mentally drained, and when I opened the app, I saw that not only had my interaction dropped to zero (pretty sure I'm shadow-banned because my stuff doesn't even show up under tags), but I also had some hateful anon messages waiting for me.

I'm so done with this. If you don't like my work, that's fine. I'm not forcing you to read it. Just keep scrolling--or better yet, block me. It's that simple, ain't it?

PS: Sorry, loves. I'm just feeling super low. I needed to vent a little. Well, tomorrow's a new day, right? 🥹

[mercurial-chuckles]

Thank you so much 🥹✨🫂😘

I met them, and now I’m their queen!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes | Stucky x F!Reader Warnings: Fluff | Language | Hot supersoldiers alert | Clingy supersoldiers | We've got game supersoldiers | Protective and borderline obsessive | Wet thoughts | Allusions to hot nights | Slight angst but happy ending | Confession | Friends to Lovers trope | Poly relation | Long one ~5k | Written in a feverish haze. Any, I mean, any craziness can and will be blamed on deliriously Nyquiled-mind! Lemme know if I'm missing anything. A/N: It really started with, "Let's write a drabble," and well, IT DID NOT end up being a drabble! But blame the two hot super soldier specimens for taking reins and striding through dominantly. This was supposed to be published (along with three other fics) on New Year's, but times have been testing! Anyhoo, Sydney and I—ever indulgently—worked ourselves up with some ideas and this burgeoned, and we both decided to collaborate having similar title and prompt. Inspiration: — confession to get it off their chest before the new year starts Read Sydney's I met them, and now I'm their princess and smother her story with love and affection! Forever grateful to Sydney for giving me the push to publish this and for giving this long-ass fic a read while I was sick and whiny! @buck-star Also, if there are any Windows 11 users, do you know an easy way of typing the em dash (Alt+0151 is no longer an option) Every time I have to use, I have to copy and paste and it's been a pain in my butt. So, any shortcuts would be a great help! Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner credits to me. Picture credits to internet! Divider credits to @buck-star Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Indulge Away!

'Have you been Naughty or Nice?'

I've been disastrous. You thought, snorting, looking at the quite colorful, only-for-adult-eyes kind of a poster.

While walking briskly to the truck in the parking lot, your eyes inadvertently fell on the shirtless guy with a Santa hat and red trousers posing sultrily. The show had been for Christmas Eve, now nearly a week old. Lucky patrons!

And your useless, absolutely horny mind brought images of two rugged, burly-looking muscular supersoldiers adorning the costume, and you shuddered.

Nope. No. No. Do not go there.

*Thud*

The distant sound startled you, and you looked down the deserted street but found nothing. You became aware of your surroundings and realized you were standing before a shady-looking strip club. Heart pounding, you hurried toward the truck you'd parked at the end of the street.

The local hill town was vastly different from NYC. By 8 p.m., the main street was completely vacant; the local stores were all closed for the night except for the convenience store at the gas station on the end of the main street and a local vet hospital, both of which you paid a visit tonight.

You quickly got into the truck and navigated out of the small town towards your temporary abode, decked in the woods near the lake.

It was New Year's Eve, and the entire day's theme was a series of unfortunate events and bad decisions.

Earlier that afternoon, having used up all the leftovers, takeouts, and groceries, you decided to venture out to find food. You cursed yourself for being so pathetic and unplanned. It was a hard bet you'd find a store open today or tomorrow.

You should have planned better, but it was what it was, and your poor mind couldn't possibly think logically when it was going through so much. So, forgiving yourself, you decided to drive to the town, hoping to get something to stock up the tiny kitchen for the next couple of days before you can go grocery shopping like a responsible adult.

But lo and behold, you had a flat tire. After groaning and cursing at your fate for a whole three minutes, you realize your aunt mentioned that you could take her truck around if it's still working.

You grabbed the keys and went to the garage. The truck seemed in good condition, with no flat tires. GREAT! You tried to start, but it won't budge. The check engine light blinked red.

Upon further inspection, you realized the spark plug was out and saw a pair of them in a cabby on the metal rack. You weighed your options, changing the spark plug in a somewhat cold and dim-lit garage or changing a tire in the chill out in the dark. It was an easy choice.

So, for the next two hours, you replaced the spark plug. Huffing and out of breath, you started the engine, which purred to your satisfaction. Feeling accomplished, you went to the only open convenience store and stocked up on some groceries. Fiona, the cashier, was a middle-aged lady who didn't talk much, unlike the other folks in the town.

When you went to pay, you realized you had left your phone. You must have left it in the cabin when you went to search for the truck keys.

Ugh! Sometimes, you hated that you remembered directions. It made you less dependent on your phone. Luckily, you had your wallet on you.  

After bidding bye to Fiona, you loaded the two brown bags into the truck. It was then you heard the yowling and the hisses. You saw the small white kitten by the lamppost in the parking. It looked like an Angora. She hurt her leg and was profusely bleeding. Your heart tugged painfully.

You unzipped your coat slightly and carefully lifted her up. She clutched at your shirt, meowing. You rushed to the convenience store inside, scaring sweet Fiona almost to death. You explained about the kitten, and she gave directions to the vet. She even called, telling them you would be coming with an injured cat.

So, you thanked her and decided to walk since it was not far, and the poor kitty seemed far too comfortable in your arms. As soon as you reached the corner house in the location, a young guy and a woman were waiting outside. The woman introduced herself as Darlene. She seemed nice and took the kitten gently from your hands. You waited for a bit while Darlene checked on the injuries.

However, the weirdly creepy receptionist, Mark, seemed to take too much interest in you, and he asked questions. A lot of questions. And he made you pretty uncomfortable. Luckily, Darlene walked out to tell you all was fine and that she would keep a watch on the kitten overnight. You were grateful that it wasn't anything serious. You promised to drop by tomorrow after she said it was okay for you to visit since it was a holiday.

Mark told you he'd walk you to the truck and wouldn't take no for an answer. By some miracle, Darlene understood and called him for something she needed. He begrudgingly got to work, giving you time to escape.

Yeah, it had been one crazy evening. Now that you think of it, the past month has been the same way.

****

In retrospect, it started with you getting buzzed after the Thanksgiving dinner at the compound. The seemingly innocent discussion with Vision about the white hole and string theory shifted to abstract physics. Then, it veered to your favorite multiverse causality, which brought to this discussion about your supersoldiers.

"You have such affection for them," Vision remarked.

"Of course I do," you replied breezily, sipping down the espresso martini. "They're my best friends." You grinned.

Vision tilted his head, studying you, dissecting your thoughts. "It is more than that," he said gently. "You love them. And it transcends friendship."

"What? No," you scoffed, a nervous laugh bubbling up. "That's... I mean, Vision, come on. It's not like that."

You defended, deterred, and denied. And you argued passionately with Vision that he was wrong and entirely out of his depth.

He gave you a smile. "One only argues this fervently when the truth threatens to unravel their carefully constructed narrative. No?"

And the point hit home like Thor's lightning.

Love? That wasn't love. That was friendship. Mutual respect. Admiration, loyalty, and the way they made you feel so cared for, and so so protective, it ought to be friendship! That's all it was. Wasn't it? Friends spend all day, every day together. Friends, just know what you need before you even say it... Friends do that. Totally!

You shook your head, muttering about Vision overanalyzing human emotions, and excused yourself to refill your drink. But his words trailed you, seeping in and breaking every carefully shackled, dreamy thought you occasionally had.

And your eyes landed on them. They were in the kitchen with Sam and Bruce. When your eyes met Steve's, he was already gazing at you. He wiggled your favorite ice cream in his hand, scooped it into a bowl, and winked at you. And Bucky's eyes softened when you met his gaze. He was in a mid-argument with Sam and casually leaned beside Steve, giving you a grin.

Your breath stilled. And something fucking snapped in place, and that realization disrupted everything.

Holy Shit!

Sitting on the nearby couch, you trembled as the flooding thoughts overtook your senses and limbs.

You've been inseparable for years now. You've known Steve even longer since he came out of the ice. Steve and you both were there to help Bucky through his healing. It had been a long journey through ups and downs, but you all were here with a somewhat stable life.

Now, there were times you felt extremely frustrated with the way they treated you, extremely protective and like you were delicate. They were there through your every whim and craziness; likewise, you were there for them. Though initially fostering a crush on both, becoming friends with them sidetracked your crush, or that was what you thought. Apparently not!

That rigid fact of love and its effects took hold of you, and you became even more aware of your predicament as time passed. Your thoughts buzzed as Steve casually sat beside you, eating ice cream while Bucky stole a few spoons from yours. The situation worsened when they fussed over your unusually quiet behavior, asking a hundred and some questions if something happened or if you were falling sick. You pulled yourself together and told them you were fine and downright rejected them staying over.

You woke up drenched that night, not from a nightmare; it was more of a wet dream starring two supersoldiers. What followed was you being hyper-focused on every little thing and how obsessively protective they were with you. And your heart was craving more, basking at their every little action.

It was bad.

And it got worse as the dreams continued and their worry for you catapulted, wondering what's going on with you.

Now, personal space was not a concept with both men. They were practically living two doors away in your apartment complex. And they were always around you.

You were starting to realize how fucked up the situation was. There was no way in the world this could work out. You loved them both. And you were acutely aware of their love for each other. How was this ever gonna work out?

Afraid of losing them, knowing you had no defenses against their piercing awareness of every flicker of your expression and every erratic heartbeat, you decided to take some time away. After all, distance helped you hate your family less. Out of sight, out of mind, right? You thought, why not try?

But it was not that easy to suddenly up and leave. Opportunity came in the form of a mission in Arizona. It was a level-2 mission, a low-level, routine assignment, far below the high-stakes operations you usually handled with the Avengers. Kert Harrison, the mission lead, seemed pleasantly surprised when you volunteered.

You let Steve and Bucky know only after you were strapped into the jet, delivering the news as casually as you could manage: the team needed a tech assistant, and you'd joined at the last minute.

Thus started the careful ghosting.

And the group chat exploded with messages. Bucky demanded the details, cursing up a storm, and you replied, 'Chill out, Sergeant, you know I can't communicate that stuff.'

You've ignored them after that. The mission was simple, walk-in-the-park simple, walk-in-the-house simple. Kept you occupied, though. But once the mission was done, the pit in your stomach grew, and the thought of seeing them terrified you.

"A little more time would help," you told yourself, "Just a little more time to breathe."

Knowing that Captain Softly Stern and Sergeant Toughly Tender would be your doom if you were anywhere close to them in this mindset, you ran for the hills. Quite literally.

Your aunt Ellen had a cabin in a small mountain town in NC. Conveniently, she was in Hawaii, leaving her cabin all alone. So, you decided it could use some company.

You then dropped a vague message telling them your aunt needed you, a family emergency, which was far from the truth.

And it sounded like the perfect Christmas. To be home alone.

But the problem was the cabin was not just lonely. It was alone lonely. The nearest town was 20 minutes away. Decked somewhere in the deep woods, a few other cabins surrounded near the lake. It suited Aunt Ellen, though. She occasionally came up to write or chill from the hustle and bustle of California.

And it didn't help that the whole setting felt like a Stephen King novel waiting to manifest. You couldn't help but internally whimper, but you sucked it up, pushing yourself to make it through.

You ignored the worried calls, always leaving them a text reply with a vaguely convincing excuse.

Guilt burgeoned your chest steadily for not spending Christmas with them. For the past few years, you three cozied up on the winter nights, cooking, baking, arguing, decorating, binge watching & cringe watching and the whole prospect had become a tradition.

Two days before Christmas, Steve had left a message asking if you could make it home. Home. He called it home, and your heart pained.

'Not likely, Steve.' You texted him.

'🥺🥹😭💔' he replied, making you almost break down and cry. He never sent any sort of emojis, and you always teased him about it. 'Emojis do the whole work and some, Steve.' You had told him a long, long while ago.

Steve might have thought this was the time to come after your heart with the series of emojis he sent. You had no guts to reply.

Bucky, however, seemed to stop buying your excuses after you ignored his calls. He stopped calling and texting altogether. It was typical Bucky. He got passively aggressive until you gave in. And you mustered a ton of courage to not just call or text.

Christmas morning, you woke up feeling like the Grinch. The memory of the worst Christmas when you were fourteen has been replaced by Christmas this year. This one felt far worse.

Steve left a voice message. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart. It's not the same without you." He sighed, voice soft and tattered. "We…miss you," his soft, broken voice shattered your heart even more.

Bucky, on the other hand, ignored you royally. But by the afternoon, he left a text with two words, 'Merry Christmas.' And your shattered heart further splintered.

This brilliant need-some-space vacation idea was supposed to be an escape, a way to clear your mind, to get over everything swirling inside. But it was only making things worse. It felt like you were meditating on them, and only them?

Ugh!

You mustered courage and called them that evening. Bucky picked up first, his voice gruff, replies short and clipped. "Fine. You doing good?" You hummed. "How's your aunt?" Steve piped in. They must've put you on speaker.

"She's ok," you said, and before they prodded, you asked them about their day. They mentioned getting your gifts, but other than that, they hadn't done much. The conversation felt hollow, and guilt weighed heavy on you. You felt like the worst person in the world.

Hurriedly, you said your goodbyes, fighting the tears that threatened to spill.

And then, you succumbed to the loneliness that clung to your heart and the messiness that tangled your thoughts. You spent six agonizing days in the cabin in the woods, fighting every instinct to run back to them.

That was a week ago. Seven horrible days ago. Today was New Year's Eve, and you thought you could use some sustenance, but it had already been one hell of a day.

~

Driving back to the cabin, you felt someone was watching you. You shook it off, chalking it up to the weird encounter with Mark. He'd set your nerves on edge, that's all. And at least the kitten was alright.

Pulling into the cabin's garage, you parked your car, not noticing the unfamiliar vehicle parked on the other side. You made your way to the other side to grab the grocery bags. The cold mountain air nipped at your skin.

The sound of boots against the gravel made you freeze. Your heart slammed into your ribs, and your pulse raced. There were a few other cabins nearby, but why would someone trespass, you wondered.

Was it Mark? Had he followed you? You grabbed the nearest thing within reach, a hammer, from the small wooden table.

The sound of heavy steps approached closer and closer, and you tightened your grip, preparing to swing. You almost threw the hammer, too, but realizing who stood there made you whimper in relief and dread.

"What the fuck? What are you two doing here?" you yelled, confused and rattled.

Steve briskly walked toward you, his expression concerned. "Is that blood?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he tried to get a look at your neck and hands.

Oh? You glanced at yourself and then up at them.

"Are you hurt?" Steve repeated his question sternly, pulling down the zipper to your jacket, completely unbothered.

"HEY!" You shook your head, stepping away from his hold. At least you tried.

Before you could protest, Bucky came closer, his brow furrowed as he unzipped your jacket, swatting away your tiny hand. Both of them froze, staring at your shirt. You glanced down and groaned. You'd forgotten you were wearing a Captain America T-shirt now covered in blood.

Steve blinked, visibly surprised. They had no idea you owned any Captain America merchandise, let alone a few bobbleheads, one of a metal-armed man and another of the man himself holding his shield, both of which you'd secretly bought earlier this year.

Bucky turned you around, cold fingers holding your chin up, demanding if you were hurt. Your breath hitched, looking up at him. His stubble was slightly grown, and the stressed look on his face made you more worried. You glanced at Steve; he looked like he hadn't slept in days, and his knuckles looked marred like he had been going at the punching bags.

"I'm fine." You whispered, not meeting their gaze and staring at the soft blue undershirt covering Bucky's broad chest. Steve had taken the hammer you still held in your hands and carefully placed them on the table.

"Start talking before you give us a heart attack," he sternly demanded.

You rolled your eyes and cleared your hazy mind. You took a steadying breath before explaining to them that it wasn't your blood and what had actually happened with the kitten, omitting Mark of course. When you finished, you glanced up at them, who looked at you angrily.

Bucky sighed, and he took another deliberate step closer to you. "Family emergency, huh?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Then why are you here playing house in the middle of nowhere while your aunt Ellen is in Hawaii?"

Your eyes widened, "How the hell…?" your question faltered on your lips as you caught the guilty look in Steve's eyes while Bucky shrugged smugly.

"Never mind. Don't answer that," you muttered, reminding yourself that you were talking to Captain America & the ex-Winter Soldier.

Steve zipped up your jacket when you shivered from the sudden gust of wind. "Let's go inside," he ordered. You nodded, reaching for the bags, but Bucky was already there, pushing you aside.

"Get your ass inside. I've got them," he grumbled, clearly angry at you for ghosting them.

You walked with Steve and Bucky beside you, fumbling for your keys, but Steve simply pushed the door open. "Don't bother," he mumbled.

"Unbelievable," you muttered. "You pried open the door?" you squeaked.

"Your phone was inside. Your car was outside. No sign of you," Bucky said defensively. "What the fuck did you expect us to do?"

When you glanced at Steve, who tended to be less of a rule-breaking hazard than Bucky, he shrugged, "Oh, I was this close to breaking it down. Thanks to Bucky, we managed to keep it intact." Steve chuckled, holding the door open for you and Bucky to enter.

"Ugh," you groaned, storming into the cabin with them trailing behind.

"Nice shirt, by the way," Steve commented as you walked in, "Didn't know you were a fan."

"Of course you like it," Bucky chuckled, glancing at Steve with that grin you were all too familiar with. Steve straightened up proudly.

"Do you also have a Winter Soldier plushie hiding somewhere? No judgment if you do." Bucky snickered, reaching you, dropping the bags on the counter, and effectively cornering you in the small kitchen.

Your face burned. "It's my aunt's. She's a fan. I found it lying around," you lied poorly.

"Uh-huh," Bucky smirked, and Steve grinned, knowing all the signs fully well.

You cleaned up your hands, washing out the traces of blood here and there. You felt agitated. They were here, the stupidly gorgeous men. Your friends. Your everything. They couldn't possibly understand the volcanic arc stretching your mind right now.

You grabbed a bottle from the neatly stacked row in the cabinet, placed it on the counter, and unscrewed the cap. Sidestepping Bucky, you quickly made your way to the living room. As soon as you sat down, you chugged half the bottle, feeling the cool liquid help clear some of the tension that had been building in your chest.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" you asked, feeling utterly exhausted and emotionally drained.

You heard them approach you as Steve settled beside you and Bucky sat on the wooden coffee table before you. For a split second, you thought it would give away, but the table looked sturdy.

You sighed and refocused on getting your brain to work, but it felt impossible with them so close.

Steve took your left hand into his large, firm grip. He traced his thumb along your wrist, his touch sending waves of warmth flooding through you, and for a moment, your heartbeat stuttered, racing beneath his fingertips. You tried to steady your breath, but it only intensified the sensation.

"What are you doing here, doll?" Bucky asked seriously, and you averted your gaze, trying to pull away your hand from Steve's, but he wouldn't let go.

"Steve," you muttered softly, helplessly, and he reluctantly let go.

"Uh…I…" you started, heart thundering. This was supposed to be your solace, your way out of the whole thing, and here you were being asked to confront. You hated it.

Your head started pounding. You rubbed your fingers to your head.

Bucky stood abruptly. "Alright, sit tight. I'll make you some tea. It'll ease your headache."

"No!" you snapped, your voice rising. "Stop that. Do not make tea."

Bucky froze mid-step, genuinely baffled by your sudden outburst. "Okayyy. No tea," he said slowly, folding his arms. "But I'm not giving you coffee. You'll end up awake all night, and it gives you a stomachache," Bucky argued.

You buried your head in your hands, feeling overwhelmed and helpless. How do you not become hyper-aware of all these little things? How? They never would get it.

Steve leaned closer, still maintaining distance, but his hand caressed your hair, comforting and enraging your senses, "Hey, did you eat anything besides cereal?" he asked, and you looked at him confused.

You couldn't help but scoff internally. How the hell would you know that, Rogers? But you didn't voice your thoughts aloud. Knowing he knew you better.

"Okay, we are not talking until you eat something. Go change, wash up. I'll make you something," he ordered.

With a dejected sigh, you dragged yourself up and headed for the shower.

The shower helped, mostly. It washed away the blood and tiredness, surely, but also washed some of your inhibitions away.

You headed back to the kitchen, where you heard them.

"Slice it, Buck, not Julienne."

"It tastes the same. How does it matter?" Bucky argued.

You couldn't help but chuckle. This was familiar. This felt like home. They were home. And there they were, making sandwiches and looking utterly comfortable, their shoes and jackets discarded. They also looked sinfully hot, those tight undershirts clinging to their muscles, and the agonizing thoughts returned.

"I miss your t-shirt," Steve quipped with a grin, eyeing your plain red t-shirt and leggings as you walked closer. "Again, that's my aunt's. Get over it, Steven." You muttered.

Bucky leaned against the countertop, his intense gaze fixed on yours. You walked up to him slowly.

"Sorry for yelling at you," you told him sincerely. His gaze searched yours, and his insanely pink lips curled into a small smile.

"C'mere," he said, his voice low and warm, pulling you into a hug before you could respond.

You melted into him immediately, feeling the heat of his body against yours, the familiar comfort of his embrace washing over you. That perfect mix of musk and something undeniably Bucky wafted over your senses and calmed the chaos inside your head. You tightened your arms around him, the ache of missing him--of missing them--filling your chest.

You could feel the deep rumble of his chest against your cheek, the sound vibrating through you, sending a warmth that felt grounding and exhilarating. And when he tightened his hold around you, pulling you just a little closer, your breath hitched. You flushed, overwhelmed by the intensity of it.

"'S all good, ok?" he murmured softly, his voice so reassuring it made your heart ache. "Let's eat."

Reluctantly, you pulled away, blinking as you tried to steady yourself, the flood of emotions threatening to spill over.

When you walked towards Steve, he grinned at you, and you leaned your forehead against his large bicep, feeling it flex as he worked. His familiar warmth settled around you.

"I hate it when you don't take care of yourself," Steve said. You stepped away before Steve decided to lecture you more.

You grabbed the plates and started setting them aside, wanting to keep busy to avoid the tension in the room. Your furtive glances toward them didn't go unnoticed. Both Steve and Bucky were quiet as you ate in silence. You hated yourself for not suggesting that you play something on the TV to distract from the discomfiting silence. But you were paralyzed emotionally.

When you tried to clear the plates, Steve gently stopped you. You reluctantly handed him the plates, feeling small in the space between you.

Bucky seemed to notice your unease. "Want to have that tea now?" he asked quietly, his eyes never leaving you. You averted your eyes; instead, you leaned against the wall for support. You nodded in response, trying to pull yourself together but not quite succeeding.

Bucky moved to prepare the tea, and you let yourself stay quiet, not looking at him--at either of them--afraid that if you did, you'd spill everything you'd been trying to hold back.

You felt so pathetic and helpless. Wanting to seek their comfort but feeling that would be unjust.

And you watched Steve walk to you, wiping his hands on the towel before walking closer.

He reached for your hand, his grip warm, and it felt perfectly assuring. You could feel the tension in his fingers, the way he held you as if he already knew the answer to the question he was about to ask.

"Let me ask you something. Did something happen that you're hiding?"

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to answer.

The intensity of his look only seemed to make it harder. You shook your head slightly, your voice barely audible as you mumbled, "No."

"Did Buck or I hurt you?"

"No!" you said, loudly and firmly.

"Then why?" His voice softened even further.

You stared at him, feeling the truth stuck in your throat, tangled in a way that made speaking impossible. Your eyes drifted, landing on Bucky, who stood just a few feet away, his posture tense, his eyes flickering between you and Steve.

You couldn't bring yourself to do it. You couldn't say it. You'd spent years building something so beautiful with them, something so right. And if you let it out, if you gave voice to the fear and guilt swirling inside you, everything could come crashing down. What if you lost them? Everything between you, the connection, the love, the trust. What if it all fell apart because you were too weak to keep it together?

That thought should have stopped you, should have held you back.

But the tears welled in your eyes despite your best efforts to hide them. You pressed your palms against your temples, trying to stave off the pressure building inside you. Still, the overwhelming rush of emotion was too much.

"Hey, hey…" Steve's voice was soft, and suddenly, his hands were on you, gently pulling your hands away from your face, coaxing your gaze back to him. His eyes, filled with nothing but tenderness, locked onto yours. "It's okay. Whatever it is, you can tell us. We're not going anywhere. You're not going to lose us."

You couldn't stop the tears from falling now.

You had no idea what to say or what to do next. All you knew was that you had avoided them to overcome the feelings, but here you were, confronting them head-on.

"You've been my home, both of you," you whispered, voice trembling as you looked at Steve and then Bucky. They were both silent and looked almost terrified.

"I was scared when I realized that... that..." You couldn't finish the thought. Steve and Bucky's eyes locked on yours, looking like they were waiting for something.

"I'm scared, selfish, messy, and all complicated," you continued, your voice breaking with every syllable. "I'm not strong enough to lose you both…" You sucked in a shaky breath, fighting to keep your composure. "I'm selfish. To want something I don't deserve. And you might just hate me after I tell you."

You sounded so pathetic to your ears. You couldn't look at them anymore. You couldn't face them. Without thinking, you walked away, stumbling to the drawing room, where you collapsed onto the couch, curling in on yourself. You clutched your t-shirt tightly by the sides and let the tears flow freely, everything from guilt to pain to fear pouring out.

You felt Steve and Bucky both hurry towards you. Steve knelt before you, large palms rubbing your thighs to calm you.

"Look at me," Steve said, voice barely above a whisper. "Say it," his commanding tone was merely begging, pleading.

And you obeyed.

"I can't keep this in anymore, Steve. It's suffocating me. I love you both, and I'm so scared."

You said it, sealed your fate.

For a moment, there was nothing. Complete silence.

You could feel Steve's grip on your legs loosen, his hands falling away slowly as if the weight of your confession had stunned him. Then, Bucky's breath hitched from behind you. His presence shifted, the weight beside you on the couch telling you he sat beside you.

You shut your eyes, silently crying.

You did it. You messed up. Didn't you? You felt ashamed. This was the moment you feared the most. They'd never look at you the same way. You'd ruined everything.

"Do you think I'd let just anyone touch my hair?" Bucky asked, his voice low and trembling. You looked up, confused. What did that have to do with what you said?

"What?" You managed hoarsely.

"You," he said, his deep blue eyes locking onto yours. "I let you cut my hair. I hate when anyone touches it but with you... it's different. It's always been different."

"Bucky..." you whispered, but he didn't let you interrupt.

"I loved you the moment you held me close after that nightmare in Wakanda. Do you remember that? I was a mess, and you just… didn't let go. Not until I could breathe again. I broke your finger by mistake at how tight I held you." His voice broke, and he swallowed hard.

"I love Steve. I've always loved him. And then... I loved you, too. It scared the shit out of me, but it's the truth." Bucky sniffled, and continued, "Ever since Thanksgiving, you've been distant, and I was terrified, thinking I'd done something terrible and lost you forever. And it fucking hurts, sweetheart."

Your breath caught in your throat. You stood up, stumbling ungracefully as you stepped away, needing to breathe. Bucky moved behind you, his hands on your arms, steadying you. You let him hold you. He tugged you closer, your back against his strong chest, his arms winding on your stomach, letting you put all your weight onto him, effectively calming you.

Steve stepped forward, holding something small in his hand. Your eyes widened as he held up a familiar notebook.

"Do you remember this?" he asked softly.

You nodded, stunned. That's the tiny notebook you gave to him. Years ago, right after he came out of the ice.

Steve opened the notebook and flicked through the pages. Your breath hitched as you saw it filled with sketches of you, Bucky, and moments you'd shared.

"You told me to fill it with things I wanted to remember," Steve said, his voice warm and full of emotion. "But all I could think about was you. I was so scared to feel love again. I loved Bucky for so long, and then you came into my life, and I... I didn't know how to go about it."

Steve exchanged a brief, meaningful glance with Bucky. His eyes softened as he continued, "But then Bucky returned, and I realized he felt the same. I've never been very religious, doll, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't pray for this every darn day."

Bucky chuckled softly, the sound deep and reassuring. "Believe me, we'd be a mess without you," he said, gently kissing your hair. "I love you," he murmured.

"I love you," Steve echoed, gently kissing your cheek.

You blinked rapidly and your mind was reeling. The world seemed to stop around you. Your heart raced, and your breath caught in your throat as you processed their words. But then, confusion took over.

"I... I don't understand. I can't choose," you stammered, your heart torn between the joy and the overwhelming fear of what this meant.

"You don't have to," Bucky said firmly, lips touching your right ear sensually, sending shivers down your spine. "Steve and I are a package deal. You get him, you get me, and vice versa. Take it or leave it. Actually, scratch that. Just take it."

Your lips parted in disbelief, and looked at Steve. He nodded, looking at you hopefully. You let out a nervous chuckle.

"What did you put in that sandwich? I think I'm high," you mumbled, laughing softly.

Steve smirked, his eyes twinkling joyfully. "Apart from Bucky's horribly chopped tomatoes, nothing you don't like," he teased. He crouched slightly to kiss you softly. Just a barely present touch, but it lit a fire so quickly that you trembled. He tasted perfect, just like him, soft and manly.

Bucky followed suit, twirling you in his arms, lifting you to his level, his kiss more fervent, grounding you. He tasted musky and familiar, spicy and so so him.

You pulled back, wide-eyed, your heart racing.

"Oh, boy," you whispered, a dazed smile across your face.

The distant sound of fireworks startled you, and the three of you turned toward the window. Faint remnants of flickering lights lit up the sky. The neighbors must have set the fireworks on the lake.

"Happy New Year," Steve said softly, his hand finding yours and Bucky's.

"Happy New Year," Bucky echoed, his metal arm wrapping around your waist.

Happy New Year, indeed!

And tomorrow, you'd text your aunt out of courtesy, letting her know you have visitors over, while keeping all the lewd details to yourself. Then, you'd go to the vet to check on the kitten, which the three of you decide to adopt and name her Alpine. A purrfect New Year, indeed!

If you wanna be tagged in my works, add yourself here. <3 Please send me a message if you wanna be removed from the Tag list. :)

I need to update my Stucky Taglist. Forgive me if you haven't chosen to be tagged in this. Until I get things fixed, kindly bear with me :)

Tag list: @nekoannie-chan @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @bitchy-bi-trash @theallknown213 @tripletstephaniescp @rogerscut @greatenthusiasttidalwave @zaraomarrogers @shadowrose13-blog1 @king814318 @yiiiikesmish @steviebbboi @bernelflo @saiyanprincessswanie @blushingrn @looking1016 @mimisweetz @navyhua23 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @shadyloveobjects @alexxavicry @astheskycries @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @patzammit @soelstress @8crazy-freak8 @stellar-solar-flare @stuckysgal @bval-1 @slowlyshycomputer @avengersfan25 @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @thiquefunlover63 @blackhawkfanatic @notsostrangerthing @awkwardgiraffe726 @iamtamera @pebbles20 @ayayaeyato @starsrfun @harrysnovia @gingerplague @read-just-cant @iwudbutnah @tasersloth @daydreaming-lightly

[mercurial-chuckles]

“I want you. Not sexually. I just want you. The beautiful, smart woman that’s by my side through thick and thin. The woman I learned to love — even though it wasn’t the plan of that mission. But you feel like the safest places during work. You feel like home.”

I volunteer. I just want him, too. 🥹🥹🥹🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Gosh! He's so precious and beautiful! This was such a heart-warming read! Fluffy heavens! 🥰🫂✨

And so many feeeeels ✨

Home is where you are

Friends to lovers!Chris who’s head over heels in love with you — his Co-worker.

With his arms on his legs he leans closer to you. The chair underneath him scratching an inch over the hard floor as he look deep into your eyes.

The ocean, light blue of his eyes a few shades brighter due the sun that’s shining into the small diner you’re in. You can see the storm of emotions in the depth of his beautiful blue orbs. His eyes slightly narrowed but never leaving yours.

“Ya so beautiful. Most beautiful woman I know,” he mutters under his breath. You’re not even sure if he meant to say it out loud or if it was one of these thoughts he keeps deep in his thoughts and locked away in his heart.

You feel your cheeks heating up at his comment and his intense stare. He might not meant to say it out loud but you can’t hide the effect his words have on you.

Chris leans even closer, bringing one of his calloused hands to your cheek, his thumb stroking along your soft skin, moving down to your lips where it hovers a moment.

“I don’t wanna ruin that all, sweetheart,” he hums, sighing softly as his eyes dart to your lips before they move back to look right into yours. “But I can’t keep that secret anymore. I can’t pretend I don’t feel what I feel. Not with them all staring at you like they do. Not when you’re everything for me.”

“What secret?” You ask, your voice quiet, like you’re afraid you could startle him if you would speak louder. You bring one of your hands to his on your cheek, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand as he takes another deep breath.

“I want you. Not sexually. I just want you. The beautiful, smart woman that’s by my side through thick and thin. The woman I learned to love — even though it wasn’t the plan of that mission. But you feel like the safest places during work. You feel like home.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you look at him. Your heart is racing in your chest, it’s been a while since you fell in love with him, not knowing if he feels the same for you. And now… he just says that. Like it wouldn’t mean more than anything to you. You turn your head toward his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. “So… are you waiting for my permission to kiss me?”

“I try. But it’s getting harder with you so close, so sweet,” he murmurs, leaning even closer into your foreheads touch softly. He’s bringing his hand back to your cheek, his pinky curling underneath your jawline to pull you closer. “Can I kiss you, please?”

You smile and break the distance, pressing your lips against his soft ones. It’s not urgent, not demanding. Just sweet, and yet full of passion. Feelings that were pushed down, locked in the depth to do your job correctly, and yet. The bond between you too strong, pulling you tightly together until you give in to the feelings, the comfort. To the love.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @rnurse-kole @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @irisk12 @lilyalone @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @bamitzzsam @feynightlight @ethanhoewke @thenameswinterfics

[mercurial-chuckles]

Thank you for the reblog 🥹😘

Bucky Barnes vs Ethan Stark

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader | Olivia Barnes x Ethan Stark Warnings: Sap | Overloaded fluff | Language | Allusions to sex | MDNI | Protective dad Bucky | Grumpy Bucky | Ethan 'Menace' Stark | Friends to lovers trope | Chaos galore | Tom Welling as Ethan Stark 🤭 | Unbeta'd | Let me know if I’m missing anything. Word Count: ~2.5k A/N: @soelstress sowed this idea in my head after reading Sappy Sunday Thought. Thank you, my lovely Soels! I have no clue how far and how deep I'm gonna spiral with this, but hey...this is a start. 💕🤭 I had a whole different banner, but after those recent pictures of Seb, I had to change... he's giving major Zaddy vibes, NGL! 😏😉👀 This is also my submission to Cranky!Grumpy!Stabby! Oh, My! Challenge | @yenzys-lucky-charm | 🗡️ A: Smoothing out the crease in Cranky’s frown while straddling their lap B: Cranky character melts, pulling them in for a kiss & Grem's 20 Characters with 20 Questions for 20 Tropes Challenge | @gremlin-girly | Bucky Barnes + 7Q + 5T | Thank you both for hosting 🩷🥹🫂 Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner credits to me. Picture credits to the internet. Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Indulge Away!

****

According to Bucky, his wife was a savage.

Bucky was ecstatic until you soured his mood. Because you'd waited until three orgasms later to tell him, right after he pounded you against the wall, while his brain was still trying to catch up, when you delivered the blow. No pun there.

He woke up utterly happy that morning. Your daughter, Olivia, was coming home for the summer. She'd just completed her junior year at university, and you had both been counting the days until you saw your baby.

Over the past month, your daughter and husband had been busy planning quite a few activities for all of you. Bucky had even cut down most of his training schedule for the summer, too. You, unfortunately, didn't have the same luxury. The project you and Tony have been working on with DOE was heading into fabrication, and you needed to put in a few more days of brutal work hours before you could dial down.

This visit was extra special. Olivia hadn't been home last summer. She'd spent it halfway across the country, interning at a start-up company in a research program, which she still heard her Uncle Tony whine about it. Most holidays were little weekend sprints. But this time, she was staying for the whole summer.

'Coz this time, she'd landed an internship with the research team at the compound after clearing a written exam and three rounds of interviews. Out of all the applicants, she was one of the three selected to intern at AI.

Tony had no idea, and Olivia had begged Pepper and Maria to keep it low. Olivia was too humble. She was determined to prove herself on her merit, not wanting anyone to think she'd been accepted into the program simply because of her connections. You were proud of your daughter. But there was no doubt Tony would be squealing when he found out Olivia was back and working at the compound, no less.

Bucky had been practically buzzing with excitement, already pulling on his jacket to head for the airport when you casually told him that he'd also be picking up Ethan Stark, who was flying with Olivia.

Bucky's pleasure-ridden mood fizzled out drastically. He turned to glare at you.

On the same fucking plane.

The absolute nightmare.

"Why the fuck was I not aware of this?" He snapped, stalking after you as you got dressed for work.

"Bucky," you sighed, not even sparing him a glance. You were running late, and it was all Bucky's fault. He couldn't keep his hands to himself, not that you minded very much.

It wasn't unpopular that your husband despised Ethan Stark from the moment Olivia was born--mostly because that kid had taken an immediate, obnoxious liking toward his daughter. And it had only gotten worse over time.

"No, seriously. Did you know that they were flying together?" Bucky pressed, backing you up against the couch with his hands caging you in. You tried to shuffle away, but he pushed his thigh between your legs.

"Hey," you squeaked, giggling and squirming, a little sensitive from earlier.

You tried to push him away, chuckling, but he didn't budge. Of course, he didn't. Instead, he flexed his muscles just right, making you moan.

"Tell me," he demanded. You found his pouty, murderous expression endearing.

Honestly, you knew exactly what you were doing. You'd only found out last night that Olivia and Ethan were flying home together. Smart girl that she was, Olivia hadn't breathed a word to her dad either, probably because it was common knowledge in your house that Bucky had a short fuse where Ethan Stark was concerned.

You hadn't meant to hide it.

Maybe you did.

You just figured it wasn't worth mentioning since Ethan already had a ride home from the airport, and you knew Bucky would go no matter what to pick Olivia. So, you decided not to poke the bear, if not required. But then Pepper called, asking for a favor, and honestly, you could never say no to her.

You sighed, winding your arms around his neck. Bucky leaned into you without the slightest resistance, his scorching blue eyes fanning the embers, sparking that wicked burn inside your core.

Fuck, he looked delectable. You'd gotten ridiculously lucky. The silver in his beard, the faint crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and those soft pink lips--all of it made you giddy. And he was all yours.

You pushed up onto your toes, one hand sliding to cup his jaw, your thumb dragging lightly over the coarse scruff. Bucky's breath came slower, as he relaxed into your touch, his jaw unclenching under your touch as he melted closer, letting you pull him exactly where you wanted.

"Bucky," you said sweetly, gently, pecking his lips and scratching lightly at the nape of his neck.

He groaned against your lips, moving to take more, but you slightly inched away, "They've been friends forever. They go to the same school."

"Yeah, still haven't gotten over that shit," Bucky grumbled, recalling the day Olivia got an admit to MIT, where Ethan Stark was pursuing his PhD.

"Ethan's a good kid. Besides, he really cares about her," You added before you could stop yourself.

And boy, you really should have shut up after 'good kid.'

Bucky looked absolutely repulsed, like you'd suggested he walk Olivia down the aisle--something you weren't supposed to talk about, let alone think, according to him. That was his rule. To him, Olivia was still his little baby, and he didn't have to worry about that just yet.

"Exactly. That's the fucking problem. He cares too much," Bucky growled, looking like he was about to punch something.

Ugh! You banged your head against his chest, frustrated.

This was going to be a long summer.

You wished Steve or Sam were here instead of on a mission. They would've picked up the kids from the airport without throwing a fit, unlike your husband.

"I'm NOT getting into this discussion. AGAIN. I need to get to the lab, or Tony's gonna roast me," you warned, wiggling out of his grip, and he reluctantly let you.

"Pepper asked. Please, Buck?" you requested again, rushing toward the door. When you heard nothing, you glanced back to see him sulking on the couch, arms crossed, frown still intact. He looked way too adorable for your own good.

Groaning, you marched back to him and dropped yourself into his lap. His hands automatically wound around you, helping you straddle his lap and tugging you closer, still refusing to look at you.

Stubborn little shit.

You ran your thumb over the crease between his brows.

"Bucky, please?"

"No."

"Bucky."

"No."

"I'll do anything," you tried, wiggling your brows.

"Don't bribe me with your body. It's mine." Bucky exclaimed, squeezing your tit in retaliation. He was not wrong. That kind of deal never worked on your husband.

"Bucky," you tried again, exasperated.

"Fine, anything?" He asked, eyes narrowed at you.

You nodded earnestly.

"Call Pepper and tell her I can't pick up her son." He scoffed.

When you sat there with your game face, silently throwing daggers and not ready to budge, he finally gave in.

"Fine," he conceded, rolling his eyes at you before pulling you in for a kiss.

****

Cramped into the narrow economy seat on a completely packed flight, Olivia Barnes was a nervous wreck. She hadn't planned to be anxious she was super excited to finally see you and her dad, but then her phone buzzed just as they were taxiing for takeoff.

Livi, Dad's gonna pick you and Ethan up. Love you. Can't wait to see you. Safe travels to you both.

Her stomach dropped.

Uh-oh.

Normally, that kind of text wouldn't bother her that much.

Except things were different now.

Very different.

Olivia knew her dad wasn't exactly a fan of Ethan--or any of her guy friends, for that matter. Bucky had a way of scaring most of her guy friends without even trying, but Ethan was different. He didn't scare easily. Olivia actually kind of enjoyed the back-and-forth between the two of them. But now, things were different. Now, she wanted Ethan to be in her dad's good books. Scratch that--his best books.

The tall, annoyingly handsome man sitting next to her, currently wrestling to fit his long legs into a comfortable position, was no longer just her best friend. He was her boyfriend. And no one knew. Well, except for Morgan and most surely aunt Nat.

Trying to steady her racing heart, Olivia leaned toward Ethan and hissed under her breath, "Why didn't you just sit in first class when they offered?"

Right before boarding, an airline associate had bumped Ethan's seat to first class--the perks of being Ethan Stark, son of the legendary Tony Stark.

A girl had recognized him despite his pathetic disguise of a baseball cap and dark glasses. "How's the ruse working, Superman?" Olivia had teased when the associate beamed at him, whispering about the upgrade. Ethan had flat-out denied it and stubbornly refused, choosing to stay right next to Olivia.

"In your dreams," he said now, flashing a grin that made her stomach flip warmly. "I'm sitting right next to you. Deal with it."

To make his point clear, Ethan moved one of his legs between hers, lifting her leg onto his and resting his hand on her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Olivia rolled her eyes and shoved her phone toward him, showing him your text.

Ethan read it.

Blinked.

Blinked.

Blinked some more.

Then chuckled low and rough in his chest.

"Fuck me," he muttered, wide-eyed, looking at her.

"Ethan," Olivia snapped quietly, swatting his hand away from her thigh. "You need to be on your absolute best behavior. I mean it. Do not, I repeat, do not irk him."

"I never do," Ethan scoffed, leaning back in his seat. He pulled her hand into his, interlacing his fingers with hers. "He just hates me because I love you."

Olivia groaned, helplessly.

"Are you listening?" she grumbled weakly. "Until we break it to your mom and dad, and my mom, and Uncle Stevie and Sammy, we are playing it cool."

"And, will you stay as far away from as humanly possible, please?" she added.

Ethan smacked his lips in annoyance, squinting at her.

"Yeah, that? Can't do that," he said stubbornly, inching closer, and quickly pecked her lips.

"Ethan," she glared at him, "I'm fucking serious."

"So am I," he said simply.

"I can't!" He shrugged. "How am I supposed to hold back when you keep looking at me like that?"

"I'm glaring at you," Olivia said flatly.

"And you're hot," Ethan said, sniggering as he shamelessly snuggled his head onto her shoulder.

"Guess you'll have to try real hard then," she muttered, trying not to laugh. He was warm, smelled so good, and his floofy hair tickled her neck.

"Fine," he sighed dramatically, sitting up with a little pout. But not before stealing a quick kiss on her shoulder, making her stomach tingle.

"Fuck you, Ethan," she said, picking up the magazine from the flap in front of her, trying to distract herself.

"I'm game," he whispered warmly against her ear, winking at her.

Feeling her entire face heat up, she beat him with the magazine. He simply laughed.

"Alright. Distance. Noted," he chuckled, but made himself comfortable again, resting his head on the curve of her shoulder. He slept there for the next hour.

Not that she minded.

~

By the time the plane landed in LaGuardia, Olivia was more anxious.

Bucky's text was already waiting when they turned their phones back on.

Shared my location. See ya in a bit. Love you, sweetheart.

Olivia's palms were sweating.

They had to be friendly... but not too friendly.

Close enough to not look suspicious. Distant enough to protect Ethan from her dad's wrath.

To her absolute horror, Ethan snuck in a kiss at the baggage claim. "Don't know when I'll see you alone again," he said dramatically. As Olivia reached for her suitcase, he snagged her wrist, pulling her into him for a kiss.

Olivia jerked back so fast that she nearly toppled the luggage cart.

"Are you out of your mind?!" she whisper-yelled, throwing a frantic look around.

Ethan snorted, "Relax, my Livi. Your dad's there," he said smugly, showing her phone where Bucky's location was blinking.

She gave him a dirty glare and marched ahead, clutching her backpack tightly.

And that's exactly how Bucky found them a few minutes later--Olivia marching stiffly forward, searching for him, with Ethan trailing behind her, grinning.

His gaze narrowed the second he spotted them.

What started as a survival skill, observation became instinctual for Bucky Barnes. And he was hyper-focused when you or his daughter were in the picture.

So, he didn't miss the way Olivia's ears turned pink when she saw him.

He didn't miss the way Ethan instinctively shifted a little closer to her before catching himself and awkwardly veering right.

When Olivia rushed to hug him happily, he didn't miss the smell of Ethan Stark's perfume on his daughter.

He didn't miss a damn thing.

~

Bucky barely said a word to Ethan after the initial greeting.

"Ethan," Bucky acknowledged with a curt nod.

"Sir," Ethan replied with a grin.

Olivia climbed into the passenger seat, nervous, while Ethan tossed both of their bags into the trunk before sliding into the back seat. He positioned himself right behind her seat.

Bucky glanced at them both, his eyes flickering between Olivia's stiff posture and Ethan's relaxed form.

"Good flight?" he asked casually.

"Great!" Olivia blurted out, flashing a smile.

"Terrible," Ethan chimed in simultaneously, leaning back with a dramatic sigh.

Olivia shot him a look through the side mirror.

Bucky's eyebrows lifted slightly, his gaze shifting to the mirror where he caught Ethan's reflection.

"Terrible?" he echoed, starting the car.

Ethan shrugged. "Well, you know… long legs and economy seats."

"Thought you'd travel first-class," Bucky pointed out, pulling out onto the next lane.

Olivia stiffened.

"Dad," Olivia chided. This passive aggression was nothing new, but that remark wasn't cool.

Ethan chuckled, "Yeah, well… first class is a bit expensive, sir. I'm saving money."

Apart from a million other things, this was what Olivia loved the most about him. Ethan Stark was a self-made man, just like her. She noticed the slight twitch at the corner of her dad's lips, a nearly imperceptible sign of approval at Ethan's answer.

That was a damn miracle right there.

Great job, Ethan! She thought...too soon, though.

"Though they did bump me into first class, I couldn't leave Livi alone back there," Ethan added.

Fucking menace was what he was! Ugh! Dickhead!

Olivia nearly facepalmed.

Bucky's eyes flicked toward her, then back to the road. "Didn't realize you two couldn't survive a couple of hours apart," he bit out.

The tension in the car thickened instantly.

Olivia forced a laugh that sounded more like a choking. "Dad…"

"Kidding," Bucky hummed, his tone unreadable.

He was so not kidding, alright!

For a few agonizing moments, there was nothing but silence. Olivia stared determinedly out the window, holding back the urge to scream at the man she loved--and at the same time, wanting to kick him out of the car so she could breathe and catch up with her dad normally.

God, he was annoying. She specifically told him not to irk her dad, but nope. What was he even thinking?

Meanwhile, Ethan seemed entirely too comfortable lounging in the back seat, utterly unbothered by the tension filling in the tiny space.

Quite dreadful, really. And the summer had barely even started.

If you wanna be tagged in my works, add yourself here. :)

Tags: @nekoannie-chan   @salvatoreitmeanssaviour   @bitchy-bi-trash   @theallknown213 @tripletstephaniescp

 @greatenthusiasttidalwave  @zaraomarrogers @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog   @shadowrose13-blog1   @king814318  

@yiiiikesmish @looking1016 @shadyloveobjects @saiyanprincessswanie @blushingrn

@alexxavicry   @feynightlight @soelstress @astheskycries @8crazy-freak8

@avengersfan25 @stuckysgal @slowlyshycomputer @blackhawkfanatic @notsostrangerthing

@iamtamera @pebbles20 @starsrfun @read-just-cant-stop

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@spaceconveyor @bubblessunshinehoney @rnurse-kole @unclearblur @buck-star @stellar-solar-flare

[mercurial-chuckles]

Thank you so much for including my work with these amazing authors! I appreciate you 🫂🫂🥹🥹✨✨😘

miscellaneous marvel characters

masterlist • marvel • 04/16/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

tony

𑣲 sky rockets and robots I @amethystarachnid

Y/N's ex left her when she got pregnant, Tony is a softie here

steve/ loki series

𑣲 remember pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 pt8 pt9 pt9.5 I @bonky-n-steeb

Bored after staying on Asgard your entire life, you decide to sneak on earth. But what happens when Steve falls irrevocably in love with you, the Queen of Asgard, wife of Loki

sam wilson

𑣲 the futures overdue I @aquaticmercy

A year after breaking up with Sam Wilson, he shows up at your doorstep.

peter quill

𑣲 homesick I @rose-gold-bullet

You're sent on a mission to another planet and catch the attention of your ally.

𑣲 say yes (please?) I @mcondance

stephen strange

𑣲 we can’t be friends I @brunchable

Your relationship with Stephen Strange has been strained to the breaking point by his constant absences and mystical duties. Despite Stephen's attempts to mend your fractured bond, you decide to seek a more permanent solution.

𑣲 no other way I @/brunchable

stucky

𑣲 double trouble I @lostalioth

steve and bucky would follow you to the ends of the earth. one call of their names and they’re at your service. they’re obsessed, only problem is you aren’t theirs, not yet anyways.

𑣲 i met them and now im their queen I @mercurial-chuckles

𑣲 accidents happen I @myfictionaldreams

You were visiting a friend when you were accidentally hit in the face, leaving behind a cut across your cheekbone. How will Steve and Bucky react when they see their girl injured?

𑣲 between the pages of a journal I @crazyunsexycool

You had been in a relationship with Steve and Bucky up until the time they went off to war only to lose them both. Years later when Steve and Bucky have reunited the receive the letters and journals you had written. Through them they learn about your life without them.

𑣲 a soul for a soul I @jamesbuchananxsteviegrant

reader dies when collecting the soul stone with steve, and bucky finds out in the final battle against thanos

𑣲 we lost I @/jamesbuchananxsteviegrant

Reader Was In Space With Tony When Thanos Snapped And Is Later Reunited With Bucky And Steve

joaquín torres

𑣲 his secret I @writingdumpster

Joaquin has always wanted to keep you separate from his avenging, but when Sam and Bucky pay him an unexpected visit he can’t anymore.

𑣲 vuelve a mí pt2 I @nathanbatemanfucker

you and joaquin confront the cause of the end of your relationship.

[mercurial-chuckles]

He’s fast. Strong. Had a metal arm.

[mercurial-chuckles]

Yesss, indeed! 🙂‍↕️😏🤭 Thank you 😘🫂

Bucky Barnes vs Ethan Stark

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader | Olivia Barnes x Ethan Stark Warnings: Sap | Overloaded fluff | Language | Allusions to sex | MDNI | Protective dad Bucky | Grumpy Bucky | Ethan 'Menace' Stark | Friends to lovers trope | Chaos galore | Tom Welling as Ethan Stark 🤭 | Unbeta'd | Let me know if I’m missing anything. Word Count: ~2.5k A/N: @soelstress sowed this idea in my head after reading Sappy Sunday Thought. Thank you, my lovely Soels! I have no clue how far and how deep I'm gonna spiral with this, but hey...this is a start. 💕🤭 I had a whole different banner, but after those recent pictures of Seb, I had to change... he's giving major Zaddy vibes, NGL! 😏😉👀 This is also my submission to Cranky!Grumpy!Stabby! Oh, My! Challenge | @yenzys-lucky-charm | 🗡️ A: Smoothing out the crease in Cranky’s frown while straddling their lap B: Cranky character melts, pulling them in for a kiss & Grem's 20 Characters with 20 Questions for 20 Tropes Challenge | @gremlin-girly | Bucky Barnes + 7Q + 5T | Thank you both for hosting 🩷🥹🫂 Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner credits to me. Picture credits to the internet. Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Indulge Away!

****

According to Bucky, his wife was a savage.

Bucky was ecstatic until you soured his mood. Because you'd waited until three orgasms later to tell him, right after he pounded you against the wall, while his brain was still trying to catch up, when you delivered the blow. No pun there.

He woke up utterly happy that morning. Your daughter, Olivia, was coming home for the summer. She'd just completed her junior year at university, and you had both been counting the days until you saw your baby.

Over the past month, your daughter and husband had been busy planning quite a few activities for all of you. Bucky had even cut down most of his training schedule for the summer, too. You, unfortunately, didn't have the same luxury. The project you and Tony have been working on with DOE was heading into fabrication, and you needed to put in a few more days of brutal work hours before you could dial down.

This visit was extra special. Olivia hadn't been home last summer. She'd spent it halfway across the country, interning at a start-up company in a research program, which she still heard her Uncle Tony whine about it. Most holidays were little weekend sprints. But this time, she was staying for the whole summer.

'Coz this time, she'd landed an internship with the research team at the compound after clearing a written exam and three rounds of interviews. Out of all the applicants, she was one of the three selected to intern at AI.

Tony had no idea, and Olivia had begged Pepper and Maria to keep it low. Olivia was too humble. She was determined to prove herself on her merit, not wanting anyone to think she'd been accepted into the program simply because of her connections. You were proud of your daughter. But there was no doubt Tony would be squealing when he found out Olivia was back and working at the compound, no less.

Bucky had been practically buzzing with excitement, already pulling on his jacket to head for the airport when you casually told him that he'd also be picking up Ethan Stark, who was flying with Olivia.

Bucky's pleasure-ridden mood fizzled out drastically. He turned to glare at you.

On the same fucking plane.

The absolute nightmare.

"Why the fuck was I not aware of this?" He snapped, stalking after you as you got dressed for work.

"Bucky," you sighed, not even sparing him a glance. You were running late, and it was all Bucky's fault. He couldn't keep his hands to himself, not that you minded very much.

It wasn't unpopular that your husband despised Ethan Stark from the moment Olivia was born--mostly because that kid had taken an immediate, obnoxious liking toward his daughter. And it had only gotten worse over time.

"No, seriously. Did you know that they were flying together?" Bucky pressed, backing you up against the couch with his hands caging you in. You tried to shuffle away, but he pushed his thigh between your legs.

"Hey," you squeaked, giggling and squirming, a little sensitive from earlier.

You tried to push him away, chuckling, but he didn't budge. Of course, he didn't. Instead, he flexed his muscles just right, making you moan.

"Tell me," he demanded. You found his pouty, murderous expression endearing.

Honestly, you knew exactly what you were doing. You'd only found out last night that Olivia and Ethan were flying home together. Smart girl that she was, Olivia hadn't breathed a word to her dad either, probably because it was common knowledge in your house that Bucky had a short fuse where Ethan Stark was concerned.

You hadn't meant to hide it.

Maybe you did.

You just figured it wasn't worth mentioning since Ethan already had a ride home from the airport, and you knew Bucky would go no matter what to pick Olivia. So, you decided not to poke the bear, if not required. But then Pepper called, asking for a favor, and honestly, you could never say no to her.

You sighed, winding your arms around his neck. Bucky leaned into you without the slightest resistance, his scorching blue eyes fanning the embers, sparking that wicked burn inside your core.

Fuck, he looked delectable. You'd gotten ridiculously lucky. The silver in his beard, the faint crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and those soft pink lips--all of it made you giddy. And he was all yours.

You pushed up onto your toes, one hand sliding to cup his jaw, your thumb dragging lightly over the coarse scruff. Bucky's breath came slower, as he relaxed into your touch, his jaw unclenching under your touch as he melted closer, letting you pull him exactly where you wanted.

"Bucky," you said sweetly, gently, pecking his lips and scratching lightly at the nape of his neck.

He groaned against your lips, moving to take more, but you slightly inched away, "They've been friends forever. They go to the same school."

"Yeah, still haven't gotten over that shit," Bucky grumbled, recalling the day Olivia got an admit to MIT, where Ethan Stark was pursuing his PhD.

"Ethan's a good kid. Besides, he really cares about her," You added before you could stop yourself.

And boy, you really should have shut up after 'good kid.'

Bucky looked absolutely repulsed, like you'd suggested he walk Olivia down the aisle--something you weren't supposed to talk about, let alone think, according to him. That was his rule. To him, Olivia was still his little baby, and he didn't have to worry about that just yet.

"Exactly. That's the fucking problem. He cares too much," Bucky growled, looking like he was about to punch something.

Ugh! You banged your head against his chest, frustrated.

This was going to be a long summer.

You wished Steve or Sam were here instead of on a mission. They would've picked up the kids from the airport without throwing a fit, unlike your husband.

"I'm NOT getting into this discussion. AGAIN. I need to get to the lab, or Tony's gonna roast me," you warned, wiggling out of his grip, and he reluctantly let you.

"Pepper asked. Please, Buck?" you requested again, rushing toward the door. When you heard nothing, you glanced back to see him sulking on the couch, arms crossed, frown still intact. He looked way too adorable for your own good.

Groaning, you marched back to him and dropped yourself into his lap. His hands automatically wound around you, helping you straddle his lap and tugging you closer, still refusing to look at you.

Stubborn little shit.

You ran your thumb over the crease between his brows.

"Bucky, please?"

"No."

"Bucky."

"No."

"I'll do anything," you tried, wiggling your brows.

"Don't bribe me with your body. It's mine." Bucky exclaimed, squeezing your tit in retaliation. He was not wrong. That kind of deal never worked on your husband.

"Bucky," you tried again, exasperated.

"Fine, anything?" He asked, eyes narrowed at you.

You nodded earnestly.

"Call Pepper and tell her I can't pick up her son." He scoffed.

When you sat there with your game face, silently throwing daggers and not ready to budge, he finally gave in.

"Fine," he conceded, rolling his eyes at you before pulling you in for a kiss.

****

Cramped into the narrow economy seat on a completely packed flight, Olivia Barnes was a nervous wreck. She hadn't planned to be anxious she was super excited to finally see you and her dad, but then her phone buzzed just as they were taxiing for takeoff.

Livi, Dad's gonna pick you and Ethan up. Love you. Can't wait to see you. Safe travels to you both.

Her stomach dropped.

Uh-oh.

Normally, that kind of text wouldn't bother her that much.

Except things were different now.

Very different.

Olivia knew her dad wasn't exactly a fan of Ethan--or any of her guy friends, for that matter. Bucky had a way of scaring most of her guy friends without even trying, but Ethan was different. He didn't scare easily. Olivia actually kind of enjoyed the back-and-forth between the two of them. But now, things were different. Now, she wanted Ethan to be in her dad's good books. Scratch that--his best books.

The tall, annoyingly handsome man sitting next to her, currently wrestling to fit his long legs into a comfortable position, was no longer just her best friend. He was her boyfriend. And no one knew. Well, except for Morgan and most surely aunt Nat.

Trying to steady her racing heart, Olivia leaned toward Ethan and hissed under her breath, "Why didn't you just sit in first class when they offered?"

Right before boarding, an airline associate had bumped Ethan's seat to first class--the perks of being Ethan Stark, son of the legendary Tony Stark.

A girl had recognized him despite his pathetic disguise of a baseball cap and dark glasses. "How's the ruse working, Superman?" Olivia had teased when the associate beamed at him, whispering about the upgrade. Ethan had flat-out denied it and stubbornly refused, choosing to stay right next to Olivia.

"In your dreams," he said now, flashing a grin that made her stomach flip warmly. "I'm sitting right next to you. Deal with it."

To make his point clear, Ethan moved one of his legs between hers, lifting her leg onto his and resting his hand on her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Olivia rolled her eyes and shoved her phone toward him, showing him your text.

Ethan read it.

Blinked.

Blinked.

Blinked some more.

Then chuckled low and rough in his chest.

"Fuck me," he muttered, wide-eyed, looking at her.

"Ethan," Olivia snapped quietly, swatting his hand away from her thigh. "You need to be on your absolute best behavior. I mean it. Do not, I repeat, do not irk him."

"I never do," Ethan scoffed, leaning back in his seat. He pulled her hand into his, interlacing his fingers with hers. "He just hates me because I love you."

Olivia groaned, helplessly.

"Are you listening?" she grumbled weakly. "Until we break it to your mom and dad, and my mom, and Uncle Stevie and Sammy, we are playing it cool."

"And, will you stay as far away from as humanly possible, please?" she added.

Ethan smacked his lips in annoyance, squinting at her.

"Yeah, that? Can't do that," he said stubbornly, inching closer, and quickly pecked her lips.

"Ethan," she glared at him, "I'm fucking serious."

"So am I," he said simply.

"I can't!" He shrugged. "How am I supposed to hold back when you keep looking at me like that?"

"I'm glaring at you," Olivia said flatly.

"And you're hot," Ethan said, sniggering as he shamelessly snuggled his head onto her shoulder.

"Guess you'll have to try real hard then," she muttered, trying not to laugh. He was warm, smelled so good, and his floofy hair tickled her neck.

"Fine," he sighed dramatically, sitting up with a little pout. But not before stealing a quick kiss on her shoulder, making her stomach tingle.

"Fuck you, Ethan," she said, picking up the magazine from the flap in front of her, trying to distract herself.

"I'm game," he whispered warmly against her ear, winking at her.

Feeling her entire face heat up, she beat him with the magazine. He simply laughed.

"Alright. Distance. Noted," he chuckled, but made himself comfortable again, resting his head on the curve of her shoulder. He slept there for the next hour.

Not that she minded.

~

By the time the plane landed in LaGuardia, Olivia was more anxious.

Bucky's text was already waiting when they turned their phones back on.

Shared my location. See ya in a bit. Love you, sweetheart.

Olivia's palms were sweating.

They had to be friendly... but not too friendly.

Close enough to not look suspicious. Distant enough to protect Ethan from her dad's wrath.

To her absolute horror, Ethan snuck in a kiss at the baggage claim. "Don't know when I'll see you alone again," he said dramatically. As Olivia reached for her suitcase, he snagged her wrist, pulling her into him for a kiss.

Olivia jerked back so fast that she nearly toppled the luggage cart.

"Are you out of your mind?!" she whisper-yelled, throwing a frantic look around.

Ethan snorted, "Relax, my Livi. Your dad's there," he said smugly, showing her phone where Bucky's location was blinking.

She gave him a dirty glare and marched ahead, clutching her backpack tightly.

And that's exactly how Bucky found them a few minutes later--Olivia marching stiffly forward, searching for him, with Ethan trailing behind her, grinning.

His gaze narrowed the second he spotted them.

What started as a survival skill, observation became instinctual for Bucky Barnes. And he was hyper-focused when you or his daughter were in the picture.

So, he didn't miss the way Olivia's ears turned pink when she saw him.

He didn't miss the way Ethan instinctively shifted a little closer to her before catching himself and awkwardly veering right.

When Olivia rushed to hug him happily, he didn't miss the smell of Ethan Stark's perfume on his daughter.

He didn't miss a damn thing.

~

Bucky barely said a word to Ethan after the initial greeting.

"Ethan," Bucky acknowledged with a curt nod.

"Sir," Ethan replied with a grin.

Olivia climbed into the passenger seat, nervous, while Ethan tossed both of their bags into the trunk before sliding into the back seat. He positioned himself right behind her seat.

Bucky glanced at them both, his eyes flickering between Olivia's stiff posture and Ethan's relaxed form.

"Good flight?" he asked casually.

"Great!" Olivia blurted out, flashing a smile.

"Terrible," Ethan chimed in simultaneously, leaning back with a dramatic sigh.

Olivia shot him a look through the side mirror.

Bucky's eyebrows lifted slightly, his gaze shifting to the mirror where he caught Ethan's reflection.

"Terrible?" he echoed, starting the car.

Ethan shrugged. "Well, you know… long legs and economy seats."

"Thought you'd travel first-class," Bucky pointed out, pulling out onto the next lane.

Olivia stiffened.

"Dad," Olivia chided. This passive aggression was nothing new, but that remark wasn't cool.

Ethan chuckled, "Yeah, well… first class is a bit expensive, sir. I'm saving money."

Apart from a million other things, this was what Olivia loved the most about him. Ethan Stark was a self-made man, just like her. She noticed the slight twitch at the corner of her dad's lips, a nearly imperceptible sign of approval at Ethan's answer.

That was a damn miracle right there.

Great job, Ethan! She thought...too soon, though.

"Though they did bump me into first class, I couldn't leave Livi alone back there," Ethan added.

Fucking menace was what he was! Ugh! Dickhead!

Olivia nearly facepalmed.

Bucky's eyes flicked toward her, then back to the road. "Didn't realize you two couldn't survive a couple of hours apart," he bit out.

The tension in the car thickened instantly.

Olivia forced a laugh that sounded more like a choking. "Dad…"

"Kidding," Bucky hummed, his tone unreadable.

He was so not kidding, alright!

For a few agonizing moments, there was nothing but silence. Olivia stared determinedly out the window, holding back the urge to scream at the man she loved--and at the same time, wanting to kick him out of the car so she could breathe and catch up with her dad normally.

God, he was annoying. She specifically told him not to irk her dad, but nope. What was he even thinking?

Meanwhile, Ethan seemed entirely too comfortable lounging in the back seat, utterly unbothered by the tension filling in the tiny space.

Quite dreadful, really. And the summer had barely even started.

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Thanks for the reblog 😘🫂

10) finding their partner’s sex toy/toys and making them play with it in front of them

for bucky x reader PLZZZ

love, @flowersforbucky

Confessions of Mr. Grumpaholic

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader A/N: Initially, I started this for Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration, but the Ask also inspired me to tune it to Smutty September Fest. Thanks to @bigtreefest it's a part of both the events now! <3 Yay! My first installment to the Smut Fest. I hope you like it @flowersforbucky Thank you so much for sending the ask, Cait. Sorry for the super tiny fic ;) In all seriousness though, read at your comfort. I've also divided it into three parts for your convenience. This is a looooong one. I think I've outdone myself on the word count. Word Count: 16k (Oops) Warnings: Mature Content, Minors DNI, Allusions to sex, Masturbation, Overloaded fluff, Sassy Bucky, Slight Pining trope, Panic attack, Smidge of angst, Super happy happy ending, Steve doesn't gray his hair post endgame, Steve is a little shit too, lemme know if I'm missing anything. Note: Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner credits to me and the photo credits to the internet. Check out my other works: Masterlist Read Ablaze, Epilogue to this story!

Indulge Away!

****

Cherish the chance encounters, for you never know which one will be the beginning of your forever.

Meeting Bucky was disorienting. Nick Fury had assigned you to help Bucky after the government pardoned him. There was a catch, though; he needed to attend a few mandated therapy sessions and yada yada. You were part of that yada yada, a support system on paper until the government knew Bucky was safe to be in society. As a part of court-mandated therapy, you were given certain privileges that you never asked for, like visits to his therapist.

Not that you were someone extraordinary, you were merely one of the obvious choices for the task.

Recovering from the injuries from a mission and not being assigned to any other missions until you healed, Fury coaxed you into helping Bucky out because the government needed someone enlisted who was not Steve Rogers or the high league posse.

When you'd think about it, it was utterly puerile to appoint you. You would have kicked the bucket if the Winter Soldier got unleashed.

The term Fury used was 'handler.' You hated it. Bucky loathed it. And boy, did he show his contempt, incessantly so.

For the first few days, Bucky stymied every effort you attempted to make the process smooth. Tracking him down was a nightmare. Despite being an agent yourself, it was impressive how such a six-foot tall, beefy man could be as stealthy as he was; one second, you'd see him, and the next, he'd be gone, but again, he was the Winter Soldier. Former Winter Soldier.

You didn't accept defeat, though, because, with your broken arm in a sling, you really had no better things to do except play 'chase the assassin' as a pastime.

It may have been two weeks of you chasing him, but he eventually yielded. You wondered when he started pitying you because he let you catch him.

After three meetings with Dr. Raynor, Bucky's therapist, you realized she was a mean and passive-aggressive lady, according to you, of course, and you kept your opinions to yourself.

On one such visit, Dr. Raynor walked out to the waiting area, still talking to Bucky as they came out of a session, 'You gotta explore, James. Do normal things.' Dr. Raynor stated, handing you the list.

Bucky stood at the far end of the room. You had rolled your eyes not so subtly when you went through the list, reading through the suggested places she had mentioned. She even told you how important it was to substantiate the visit with a photo.

You remember that slight tilt of his lips vividly to this day when Bucky caught your gaze. Maybe that did crack those rigid walls he built to keep you out, or perhaps it was after that when you sat in the cold outside his apartment and waited for him so you could take him to the list of places Dr. Raynor had given him as a task.

"Next time, maybe forgo the coat; you'll freeze up quickly if that's what you were going for," Bucky's rough voice broke the sleepy delirium that evening.

He was crouching before you, an unmistakable frown marring his features from underneath his cap.

You snuggled into the warm blanket wrapped around you and picked up the dixie cup filled with hot coffee that he placed beside you on the steps that you made temporary abode in the cold.

It was chillier than usual with a foreboding winter storm on the way, and you were a bit high on Hydrocodone, the painkiller that you were taking for your broken arm. So, you had no idea when you fell asleep. You looked up at him, letting out a tired chuckle, grateful for his thoughtfulness of not letting you freeze to death.

"Next time, maybe stick to the plan," you grumbled, sipping into the coffee instead of thanking him. After all, it was his fault.

~

It had been a long journey since then. Things with Bucky were less turbulent. He listened to you; it was very enlivening for a change. He would make subtle remarks at your expense, too.

Sticking to the task at hand and following Dr. Raynor's orders, you accompanied Bucky to Ellis Island. You both walked through the crowds, surrounded by tourists and the distant murmur of ferry horns. It was a pleasant day; the sun descended, casting beautiful hues in the sky. You had navigated the crowd for nearly an hour, and while Bucky tried to keep his focus, you felt the sudden shift in him. He visibly tensed up beside you, and you could see the pressure mounting in his expression as he rapidly looked around, breathing unevenly.

"Bucky," you looked at him, keeping aside your worry. "We can leave if you want to." Bucky nodded, but his eyes kept darting around. His breaths became shallower.

You noticed the slight tremor in his hands and reached out, maintaining a calm and steady tone, "Bucky, hey, look at me."

But he couldn't, and you felt like he was drowning in his mind. His breathing grew more ragged.

You took your hand over his clutched fist, rubbing gently, and he loosened the grip, and you could feel the clammy, icy hand engulf yours.

You had moved closer to him. "Bucky, I need you to breathe with me, okay? Just focus on me," you said gently, hoping your voice anchored him back, and he blinked, trying to focus on your face. You helped him through a few sensory techniques you were aware of.

"You're okay. You're safe, Bucky," you told him repeatedly.

Bucky followed your lead, slowly regaining control of his breath, though the tension in his body lingered. You didn't rush him; you stayed close, blocking out the rest of the world, shielding him from the crowd. Once his breathing steadied, you gave him a soft smile, squeezing his arm.

"Let's get out of here, yeah? We can go somewhere quiet." You whispered gently.

Bucky nodded, unable to speak, but the relief was evident in his eyes. You had led him away from the bustling crowd, navigating through the ferry terminal and back onto the city streets, where the noise was less overwhelming. You walked silently, Bucky's hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders tense, while you kept close, matching his pace without a word.

After a while, you found a secluded spot near Battery Park, away from the main paths. The area was quieter, with fewer people and the soft sound of the river lapping against the shore. The sky had darkened with cloud cover, engulfing in a bleak yet serene bubble.

You settled onto a low wall overlooking the water, the cool breeze calming. You hoped it soothed Bucky, too.

Sitting there beside the tall man, your perception of him changed. Initially, you'd felt pity for Bucky Barnes, but at that moment, you realized how inhuman you were being. He was mind-controlled for years. Years. You could probably never even come close to comprehending the extent of how he felt.

You decided to stop working with him as a task and instead start working with what's best for him, even if you have to go against the ways of Dr. Raynor. You had to up your game. Maybe you'd never be Steve Rogers for Bucky, but you could come close to being a friend.

You slipped away briefly, giving him the space to compose after the panic attack and an opportunity to leave if he wanted to; you bought him your favorite milkshake and falafel from the nearby food truck.

When you returned with the food, Bucky was still there. He didn't attempt to move to take his food, so you handed Bucky the milkshake without a word, letting him take the lead. Bucky stared at the food for a moment, his jaw tight, but after a beat, he accepted the shake, taking a slow sip.

The familiar, comforting taste must have brought a faint smile to his lips. And seeing him smile made you grin like a fool. You settled beside him, eating in silence.

You sat there for hours, until it was dark.

It was quiet, just the two of you, with nothing but the sounds of the distant city and the occasional lapping of water against the rocks. You could feel the tension in his chest slowly start to ease. You finished the food in companionable silence, the kind that didn't need to be filled with words.

As you started walking back along the quiet sidewalk, you stumbled over a raised edge, your foot catching awkwardly on the pavement. You let out a surprised yelp and flailed with your one functioning hand to regain your balance. Bucky reached out swiftly, steadying you with a chuckle.

"Hey, it's dark! And that sidewalk definitely moved." You mumbled. Bucky let out a rarely-heard laugh. The tension of the evening seemed to melt away.

"Yeah, sure. We'll blame the sidewalk." He muttered. Though embarrassed by your clumsiness, you couldn't help but feel glad.

Things gradually changed after that point.

He insisted on walking you home that night.

"It's totally fine, Barnes. I can walk home alone," You had said firmly. It was hilarious how you denied him walking you home when you wanted him to be okay with you loitering around him, babysitting. If that thought crossed his mind, he was gentleman enough to keep it to himself.

"Oh, you're fine? Great. I'll be there just in case," he retorted, casually leaning against the light pole and shrugging his shoulder.

It was then you realized Bucky Barnes was a cheeky little shit filled with sass. It was also when you realized he was ruggedly handsome, and he didn't even have to try hard. Not letting thoughts go astray on his gorgeousness, you sighed in defeat.

"Ugh," you grumbled.

You had kept the conversation running for both because Bucky was not much of a talker. That walk felt borderline romantic despite knowing he walked you home in danger you would trip yourself again or get mugged. You told him how you loved baking, reading, and a few other silly details of your life. He listened, maybe tuned you out a bit, but you liked to think he listened to your constant blabber.

~

You started connecting with him gradually, poking fun at his expense, unaffected by his constant grumpiness. You knew you didn't take teasing too far, being careful not to trigger him in any way consciously.

Then came his birthday. It was a clear occasion to show him you considered him more than just a mission. So, you decided to surprise him with a birthday cake, a box of confectionaries with some gifts, and a silly little birthday balloon and knocked on his apartment.

When you brought him cake and gifts, you had only thought of dropping by his front door if he didn't open the door. But he did open the door, standing in his joggers and tiny blue shirt that fit him perfectly, looking shocked at you like you were an alien.

You caught a glimpse of his pillow on the floor, and your heart tugged at that. You guessed he had trouble sleeping, but this just confirmed it. Bucky didn't invite you into his apartment, and you didn't try asking either, knowing it was his safe space.

Clearing your throat, you intended to wish him Happy Birthday, but you muttered, "It's your birthday, Barnes," with a stupid grin.

"Why do you know my birthday?" He demanded with narrowed eyes.

"Uh... it's displayed in the Smithsonian, and I just am good with dates, Bucky," you scoffed, not disclosing to him the fact that you read the 97-page file Fury handed you about him. And Merlin's Beard! It was astronomically far from a light read.

Bucky let out an exasperated breath and looked down at the deserted hallway. The shock soon converted to a steady frown, a familiar expression you were used to for which you rolled your eyes as he folded his hands to his chest, looking at you like you just poisoned his food right under his nose. You tried to hand him the cake and the gifts, but he didn't budge.

When you warned him that you'd sing Happy Birthday embarrassingly loud if he didn't take the gifts, he conceded with a huge frown and a grunt. It was the first time you realized Bucky had a car because, up until then, you thought his mode of transportation mainly was riding a bike or Floo powder; after all, he seemed to appear and disappear into thin air randomly. He drove you home that night, irked by the fact you took a taxi at that hour.

You took that as a win, although a bit envious that you missed his reaction when he opened the gift wrapper and found the gag gift you snuck in: the bright pink kitty key holder. Surely, he must have shunned that into the bin quite as fast, but you hoped he liked the leather jacket you got him. The next day, he wore it, and all things holy, he looked so hot in it, and your eyes nearly popped off their socket. He didn't acknowledge it, nor did you; you felt exhilarated despite that.

~

When you sought shelter at a small bookshop because it was pouring outside and you forgot your umbrella, you realized that Bucky shared your interest in reading. You sat there for hours discussing tons of books and theories. It was the most Bucky talked to you since you first met. You would share your books and, sometimes, your latest cooking repertoire with him, and you liked to think he started enjoying your shared time, which was most of the time every day.

Soon, Bucky started adapting to things. He was sent on small missions, led some missions, and even asked to oversee recruit training. You met his friends, the Avengers cohort. They were an odd bunch just like you but with a shit ton more skills, and you liked them.

You met Captain Rogers more often, 'Call me Steve,' he would say rather stubbornly, and you kept calling him Captain Rogers. Sam Wilson became a regular in your meetings, too. Bucky seemed to like that you annoyed his friends.

As per the task at hand, you were quickly becoming insignificant alongside him: so, no more roaming around in the pretense of Dr. Raynor's list, no more photoshopping Bucky in all the busy crowded, touristy spots of New York City to substantiate--a hobby you were too proud about and Bucky, though secretly grateful for your photo editing skills, still frowned at you--and no more hanging out with Bucky in general because it was not like he chose to hang out with you. You were thrust into his life by the requirement of the government.

One warm evening, Fury called to confirm your thoughts. You were officially off babysitting Barnes. Bucky was clear. You felt exuberant for him. You didn't have the guts to say goodbye to Bucky, so you texted him with a few cat gifs wishing him congratulations. He left you on read for two days. Then, he texted you a 'Thanks.' It was hilarious how excited you got to read his text.

A week passed, and you slowly retreated into your life, focusing more on catching up on your life and other household stuff that you otherwise ignored due to lack of time. You remember that it was a week filled with so much binge-watching. You caught up on The Great British Baking Show's latest season and a ton of cheesy old movies you watched as guilty pleasure that your eyes almost started hurting. It was a pretty unhealthy week for your body but a needed week for your mind.

Your hand was out of the cast, and you had PT left. The day you were set to go to physio, Bucky was waiting outside your apartment. You looked taken aback. He was in his jeans and a pale blue t-shirt with a jacket, looking handsome. He was no more hiding his face underneath caps, and the bright sunny day reflected his cerulean blues, and your breath hitched looking at him. You sighed, clearing your thoughts.

"What are you doing here?" you asked him. He shrugged, opening the car door for you to sit.

"Bucky, that's not needed. I can go alone just fine," you told him.

His expression was unreadable, but a familiar stubbornness in his eyes made you pause.

He leaned onto the car, clutching the door open. "Thought I'd tag along. Figured you might want some company." Bucky shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

It wasn't an offer. He wasn't giving you the option to refuse, not because he was overbearing, but because he knew you'd probably never ask for the company outright. You stared at him momentarily, surprised but touched, and finally conceded, sliding into the passenger seat.

"Okay, but don't blame me if you get bored out of your mind," you told him.

He didn't retort and handed you a coffee and croissant wordlessly, and it filled your heart with warmth. "Thank you, Bucky."

You were out of your depth as to how you could confront him, but Bucky seemed to be everywhere.

Everywhere.

As you had to go to physical therapy more, Bucky accompanied you regularly. Though it itched you to ask him how he knew your schedule, you never asked him, fearing he would stop hanging out with you. And in those moments, you told yourself he was not just a regular guy but an Avenger/ex-Winter Soldier.

You checked in at the front desk, glancing over your shoulder to see Bucky already settled into one of the waiting room chairs, flipping through an old, dog-eared magazine. Occasionally, he'd swipe at his phone, deeply engrossed in a game of Fruit Ninja, the faint sounds of slashing fruit and upbeat game music filtering through the air. You wondered if he played it for the sound of knife slashing; you indeed played just for that.

You moved to the exercise room, where your therapist guided you through stretches and strengthening exercises, pushing just to the point of discomfort. Every so often, you'd glance back toward the waiting area and see Bucky still there, his presence grounding you in a way you hadn't expected. He never looked impatient, didn't check his watch, or fidgeted like he wanted to leave. It was as if he had nowhere else he'd rather be, and that made your tummy flutter.

Troy, one of the guys who worked at the center, had been closely monitoring you since your first visit. He was nice, with a charming smile and an easygoing demeanor that made him popular with nearly everyone who came in. You'd noticed how his eyes lingered a little too long when you walked in, how he'd always find a reason to come over during your sessions, adjusting your form with a light touch or cracking jokes to make you laugh.

Today was no different. As you finished a harrowing stretch, Troy wandered over, his smile bright and confident.

He leaned against the nearby equipment, casually tossing a towel over his shoulder. "You're really getting the hang of this. Won't be long before you're back to one hundred percent."

"Thanks," you smiled.

Troy grinned, leaning in slightly. "You know, maybe we could celebrate once you're fully healed. I know this great little café by the waterfront. Best coffee in town."

It was an almost-invitation, a clear hint that he was interested, and you'd noticed these subtle gestures from him before—lingering compliments, casual touches, and comments that hinted at something more than just professional interest. But today, as you glanced over your shoulder, you saw Bucky still sitting there, his attention momentarily shifted from his phone to the scene unfolding. His presence was imposing calm, yet undeniably watchful, even from across the room.

Bucky's eyes met Troy's briefly, calm but unwavering. It wasn't a glare, but something about Bucky's demeanor seemed to set Troy on edge. Troy hesitated, his previous confidence faltering as he glanced back at Bucky, then at you.

Troy cleared his throat, his smile slightly strained. "But, you know, no rush. Whenever you're ready."

You nodded, keeping your tone light but non-committal. "Thanks, Troy. I'll think about it."

As he walked away, you couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and awkwardness. Troy was nice, attractive, and charming, but you weren't eager to encourage something that wasn't there for you. And Bucky's presence only made that realization sharper. You didn't have the energy to navigate flirtations or the complications that came with them. Not when Bucky was around.

When your session ended, you grabbed your things and joined Bucky, who looked up from his game with a lazy smile. His countenance slightly surprised you.

Bucky, his tone teasing but with an edge of curiosity, remarked, "Looks like you've got an admirer."

You rolled your eyes, "Troy's just being nice. Besides, I think he's a little scared of you."

Bucky chuckled, standing up and stretching confidently, "Me? I'm harmless."

You glanced up at him, your heart flipping at how his eyes softened as they met yours. "Sure, Barnes. You're about as harmless as a loaded gun."

He smirked but didn't deny it, and together, you made your way out of the center.

Truthfully, having a friend felt good. You got friends, but they were mostly from your job, and you never felt close to them. With Bucky, the friendship felt intimate--meeting him always felt warm and fuzzy.

Now and then, you wondered if Bucky saw this as friendship: he was comfortable with only a few people, and perhaps, despite any say in the matter, you were one of them. It didn't bother you. You liked the bond you shared with him. It was sweet borderline diabetic, too. You hung out almost every day except when he was off on missions.

When you went to Spencer's one day, you found another silly thing for him. A bright band that said, therapy buddy. It cracked you up so much you had to buy it for him.

"Seriously?" He exclaimed, rolling his eyes, frowning at you, and shoved it into his pocket. At least he didn't chuck it in a bin. He told you how insufferable Dr. Raynor was being.

Your friendship--what you liked to call it--stayed consistent for a few months. Bucky, too, started accepting you. He now talked more than one word or phrase and made jokes at your expense vehemently. They were subtle and sharp but made you smile, and your heart fluttered just a bit.

~

Things were settling down for him, and for you, not so much. The weight of the truth bludgeoned you when you went to Wilmington with Bucky. Bucky had a mission and the details you were not privy to. He had been going around 'making amends,' as he called them.

Never been to the coastal town, you asked if you could join him, and he not so reluctantly let you. It was a six-hour long drive, and it was beautiful. You did most of the talking, telling about your family, high school, college, and everything he never asked about. He dropped you off at the town and told you he would join you later.

It was one of those perfect evenings where the sky looked like a canvas of soft pinks, purples, and oranges painted by the sun's final rays.

Ambling around the tiny shops on the River Walk, you shopped for some chocolate and a few fragrant soaps you knew you'd never use, and Bucky joined you there just before sunset.

You both sat on the small wooden high stools, facing the water and watching the hues jutting out over the calm waters of the Cape Fear River. You shared a pizza that was a little too greasy and absolutely perfect.

"I don't think this is quite up to your 1940s pizza standards, but hey, times have changed," you teased him.

Bucky took a bite, chewing thoughtfully before shrugging. "You kidding? This is an upgrade. I could get used to this whole modern world thing." He said with a slight tilt of his lips.

That statement carried so much weight, showing how far he had come. Bucky was a better human being than most, compassionate even with that grumpiness. For him to be a nice person, despite being through some dark shit, it was applause-worthy in your opinion.

The wind carried the faint scent of saltwater, and the water splashed gently against the wooden columns underneath. You leaned onto railings, legs dangling over the edge. There was a soft breeze coming off the river, the kind that was just enough to ruffle hair and carry the sounds of the water lapping at the posts. The sun had just set, leaving behind a brilliant watercolor sky reflected on the ripples below. It was calm and perfect, and you felt suspended in time beautifully.

Bucky reached into the bag of sweet treats you'd picked up from a local bakery, pulling out a couple of chocolate-covered cannoli; you took a huge bite, smearing chocolate on your nose and mouth.

"You're such a messy eater," he laughed softly, pulling out a couple of tissues. You snatched them from him and wiped your face vigorously. You looked at him with narrowed eyes when he scrunched his face in a grin.

"Good thing you're cute," he chuckled, barely audible, but you heard it. A slight blush covered your cheeks, but thankfully, he looked away.

You watched him as he looked out over the water, his profile softened by the fading light, a serene expression you rarely saw on him. Bucky looked so at peace; the tension that usually sat on his shoulders was gone, replaced with something lighter and freer. He leaned front on his elbows, resting them on the railing, the sunset's glow highlighting the lines of his sharp jaw, and the way his lips curled in a half-smile made a jolt of warmth spread through you.

Though your mind ran with thousands of thoughts, you sat in comfortable silence; the only sounds were the occasional trilling of the birds and the distant hum of a boat motor. You realized how rare it was to see Bucky so relaxed, just being there in the moment, and you found yourself studying him more--how his eyes softened when he looked at the sky, the way his hair caught the last bit of daylight, and the ease of his laughter that you had grown to love.

And that was when it hit you, like a sudden and unrelenting wave crashing against the shore. You were in love with him, the way the feeling wrapped around your heart and squeezed tight. It shook you to the core, this realization that Bucky Barnes wasn't just a mission, a friend, or your favorite person to argue with; he was everything. And sitting there, with Bucky beside you, his knee casually touching yours, the breeze whispering through his hair, there was no denying it anymore.

You turned your gaze back to the horizon, trying to hide the slight tremble in your hands as you drummed your fingers on the railing. The vibrant hues of the sunset mirrored the whirlpool of emotions inside you--beautiful but overwhelming. More inclining towards overwhelming because James Bucky Barnes couldn't possibly feel anything towards you.

And it terrified you to no end.

After that, it was a downward spiral for you. Every little thing about Bucky became hyper-focused. You started noticing little things he did for you, like how he hovered his hand on your back when in the crowd, how he deliberately stepped around on the side of the road if you were walking on the sidewalk, how he opened doors, how he walked you to your apartment and tagged around you for general work, how he met your eyes and gestured or conveyed little things without as much as opening his mouth. It was sheer torture.

~

Then December came along. You had gone home for Thanksgiving and came more relaxed and carrying a lot of food. You needed that time to get your bearings straight. Since your parents were going to Australia to visit your brother for Christmas, you would be home alone for Christmas. 

One cold December morning, Bucky knocked on your door. You were both attending the book festival you told him about a few months ago. It had been almost a week since you last saw him. It took you a hot minute to recognize him through the peephole. He looked so entirely different; you stood shocked. He cut his hair short, and boy, it suited him so much. He looked like a male model who just walked down the ramp. Drop dead gorgeous.

You were taken aback, rushing to your tiny kitchen as you gulped down some water to calm your nerves and heated cheeks. You greeted him with a practiced smile when you opened the door and gestured to his hair. He shrugged with a bloody grin, and you felt your heart skyrocket.

You blamed the cold weather for your blushing cheeks for the rest of the day.

You often invited Bucky to your general outings. His therapy sessions were sporadic, what with Dr. Raynor's holiday schedule. Bucky seemed more peaceful because of it.

When Captain America invited you to the Christmas Eve party, you denied it. But you were almost bullied into attending. So, you did and bought everyone gifts, hoping they'd like them. The party was intimate; only a few joined, and you had much fun.

On Christmas morning Bucky came by your home, shocking you out of your wits as he gave you a beautiful pendant, which you wore every damn day. It probably was an obligatory gesture because you loved gifting things and you didn't want him to feel pressured into giving you things. Though you felt more than happy by his gesture, you told him clearly he didn't have to.

You were really juicing up the time Bucky and you shared; somewhere deep in your rational mind, you feared you would soon become too insignificant in his magnificent life. So, you cherished as much of the time as you got with him because it was bound to end eventually anyway. Right?

You asked him if he wanted to hang out and watch some old movies one evening. He told you he was tired and wanted to sleep. You respected that and walked around the city; Christmas in New York was otherworldly.

Deciding to do everything cheesy, you walked around the square, sipping hot chocolate, and that's when you spotted Bucky, accompanied by Steve, Sam, and Nat.

You felt a tug at your heart and it pained you because he lied instead of telling you he had other plans.

You escaped from there, not wanting to run into them.

It took a mere few steps walking down the block for your insecurities to catch up. You started feeling guilty and absolutely horrified by your overbearing nature. So, you had returned home with a ton of candy, a few doughnuts, and binge-watched movies alternating from cheesy Christmas movies to psycho thrillers. It eased your aching heart.

Much later, it gave you some perspective that you were enforcing your personal affections on him when he must have expected a trusting acquaintance.

Becoming reserved with fear of heartbreak, you avoided him for a bit, and that didn't mostly go according to your plan because he sought you out if you didn't respond to his one-phrase texts. Wherever you were, he'd appear out of nowhere as if you conjured him up.

Bucky Barnes was causing you trouble, viciously grabbing your senses, and you realized you were teetering to the edge of no return. Maybe you did cross that edge and fell deep. If not for that, there was no good reason why you were standing in your simple tracks and a t-shirt, with your backpack hung on one shoulder in the sea of glittering fancy crowd to give him his birthday present.

~~~~~

Funny how you delude yourself just by knowing half-truths

It was strange how times changed, indeed.

Fourteen months ago, you were apprehensive about working with James Buchanan Barnes. Yet here you were, battered and a bit bruised, dragging yourself in the vibrant sea of the hustle and bustle of the lounging area, carrying the present you wanted to give him for his birthday tomorrow instead of being halfway to your home and taking care of those minor bruises.

Your reasons were simple. You knew Bucky had a mission in a couple of days and wanted to give his gift before he left, wondering when he would return. Also, you put a lot of work into acquiring the gift, and you were excited for him to open it. So, when you came back from the mission, you headed straight to the party after Sam had told you where Bucky was without a thought in mind.

Though the party was not for his birthday per se, it was a charity gala night, conveniently scheduled for today just in time for Bucky's birthday. You could guess it had to do something with Captain Rogers and others getting involved.

"Didn't know it was a costume party," you heard the familiar voice and turned around to see Maria Hill, dressed perfectly in a short black dress.

Unfortunately, Bucky Barnes meant enough for you to be this excited to give him his gift, looking like roadkill. You laughed gently.

Shit, your back hurt!

"You look gorgeous," you complimented, and she winked at you, not missing the way you winced.

"I know, but what are you doing here? Thought you'd be resting your ass up after the mission," she said, her gaze scrutinizing.

"Just heading home...wanted to say hi," you stated lamely, fiddling with the backpack straps hanging by your sides.

"Leave you to it then," she walked away, leaving you to shuffle around. It was unlike Bucky to be at a party. He detested these things, and you were quite aware, but perhaps he was convinced, warned, or bullied into attending. In your opinion, it was good for him to socialize.

The party was lavish, and you really looked very out of place. Needing to get out of there as soon as possible, your hurried gaze settled on the one person you were here for, Bucky, the grumpy Barnes.

As soon as you felt the involuntary smile appear on you, it disappeared quicker than that. A gorgeous girl in a long blue dress was talking to Bucky animatedly, leaning closer to him, and the worst thing was that he was smiling, too. The dirty insecurities you locked up in the corner of your mind swam to the forefront.

Imagination is the worst enemy sometimes because it knows your dirty secrets and plays the field like a champ.

You were not one to feel terrible about yourself; you were pretty confident, too. But lately, things had been messed up in the upstairs department thanks to the feelings you festered for a blue-eyed man, which you were pretty sure was one-sided.

~

"Why are you frowning?" Bucky's voice startled you from behind.

Fuck! When did he walk all across from there and creep behind you. Were you staring at her that long?

"I'm not." You defended, turning around to face him. He wore a beautiful black jacket, and his metal arm glinted underneath the expensive golden ambiance. He looked rugged, the slight confusion drawing your eyes to his beautiful blues. He was breathtakingly gorgeous and hot. He looked you up and down slowly and then held your gaze, it spread heat over your face so quickly that it was quite embarrassing.

"Why are you all dolled up?" He asked, his head tilted to the side, with a gentle twinkle in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes dramatically.

Fortunately--unfortunately--the same pretty girl interrupted his teasing, and you mentally groaned but gave her a gentle smile. She smiled at you, introducing herself. She was sweet; they'd make a good pair, and maybe she'd be good for him, your rational mind offered, but your heart clenched at your thoughts.

So, you were glad your phone rang at that point despite it being a spam commercial. You didn't give Bucky or the girl another chance to talk as you rushed out of there, mumbling, 'I gotta take this,' with a good fake smile.

When you found an empty couch in the lobby, you collapsed into it unceremoniously, overcome by your emotions. You took a few deep breaths and pulled the gift-wrapped book from your bag. Looking up at you, the dark gift wrapper with the golden pattern seemed to mock you.

When shopping at Target last week, you realized the gift cover resembled something similar to his Vibranium arm. You all but squealed as you picked it. The scribbles on the neatly folded card have been edited more than you could count. Ugh!

You felt pathetic. If Bucky figured the lengths you'd gone to get that gift, he would cringe, probably get scared, and most likely never talk to you. Objectively, that sounded good, but your heart tugged with unease.

This was such a fucking bad idea.

Maybe you could give it to Bucky anonymously and leave it somewhere for him to find. That prospect sounded good. With that resolve, you decided to move away from the couch and slip out of the room unnoticed, but the damn timing of Sam Wilson almost made you bitchcry.

"Hey, there. Where have you been? We've been looking for you for so long." He said, settling beside you.

"Hey, Sam," you smiled, not very enthusiastically.

"Why the long face? Mission was that bad?" He asked. You shrugged. His gaze shifted to the gift in your hand.

"Oh, the gift, what did you get him? Honestly, I should take the gift. He's got about more than eight phone numbers already." Sam spoke curiously, looking at the gift, entirely unaware he was just adding fuel to your agony.

Yep, the gift was a bad bad decision.

You wondered if Bucky would turn up his charm and start dating the pretty girl in the blue dress. Knowing your one-sided love story lacked any buttress was one thing, but the minute plausibility of Bucky Barnes dating someone was heart-wrenchingly painful.

You shrugged, giving Sam the same fake smile you'd been mastering.

Now that Sam saw the gift, you had to turn it in. "I'm super tired, and my bed is calling me. Give him this, will you?" You hand him the gift. Sam looked confused, wanting to say something, but you left hurriedly without another word.

In retrospect, you contemplated the gift as you drove to your apartment; it didn't have to be as important as you were giving value to it. You could shrug and tell Bucky it was just a book you found in one of those random shops. And that thought process gave you the semblance of control, even momentarily.

~

When Sienna or Sierra--the woman's name he entirely missed--tried to get his attention, Bucky sighed in displeasure, rubbing his face with his metal arm, hoping that would be enough for her to leave him alone. She'd been telling him about the rooftop Italian restaurant for about five minutes straight ever since he nodded at her politely when he mistakenly stood by her table, not knowing it was occupied.

Steve was suddenly called out on some mission, and Bucky would have gone, but he wanted to stay back. He didn't tell Steve why, but he bet Steve understood when he gave Bucky a shit-eating grin. Stupid punk.

And Sam was annoying Bucky, so much so that Bucky asked him to fuck off, and Sam had listened to him maybe for the first time ever, and now he was fucking bored out of his mind. He was itching to go to the hangar knowing that you were back from the mission, as he was constantly checking with Agent Ryan, the one in charge of your mission, for updates.

But when he saw you near the lobby, Bucky's breath hitched. You were gone for three days. It'd been three days too long since he saw you. Three insanely long days to bear.

You hadn't noticed him yet, and Bucky took his time scanning to see if you were injured. However, he had already checked if there had been any injuries with Agent Ryan, and thankfully you were fine.

Trouble, yeah, that's what you were to him. How you managed to look so fucking pretty in that plain t-shirt and pants was beyond him. Bucky was in it too deep. He waited a minute too long, hoping stupidly that you were here for him. When he noticed you staring in his general direction, but with a frown, he excused himself, desperately wanting to know what happened. Were you hurt somewhere and did not report?

When he walked closer, he realized your frown only deepened, but you were unaware of his presence. Something was wrong with you, and you were not telling. You had been acting that way for some time now, shutting him off. Bucky abhorred feeling that way.

When he followed you out, you were already gone without a goodbye. He felt his throat tighten in anticipation. Were you tired, or was it something else? Bucky stood confused and slightly terrified. He wondered if you realized what he was up to, that he was keeping tabs on you. Did Ryan tell you about his talk? No, Ryan wouldn't do that.

Sam caught him halfway through, grinning wildly with a gift in his hands. Bucky rolled his eyes, not wanting to interact with him but needing to follow you.

"Not now, Sam," Bucky said, rushing out, irritated at being unable to run. It would startle people, and he didn't want that kind of attention or fear in the people. Some were still edgy, like anticipating he would lose control and become the winter soldier. It pained him to no end.

"Okay then, I'm gonna keep this gift y/n wanted to give you," Sam chuckled.

Bucky stopped in his tracks. You brought him a gift. Of course you did. His heart thumped wildly as he turned, hoping that his face didn't give away too much because God knows Sam will figure it out and Steve would inadvertently know, and man, he couldn't handle two of them beating his ass to ask you out.

"I told her I should keep the gift. You got so many numbers anyway," Sam chuckled, handing him the neatly wrapped gift.

His heart tugged at that. Why did Sam say that to you? He wasn't even interested in any of them, and more importantly, it was Sam who had pulled the phone out of his hands and given it to those women to enter their numbers. He had deleted them right after, frowning at Sam as soon as they left. Did Sam reveal that part to you?

Bucky was livid, and he wanted to give Sam a piece of his mind.

He was not really proud that sometimes Bucky wanted to see if you got jealous because, sure as hell, his blood boiled if someone as much came close to you. But he never tested his theory. It was hilarious to think that you could ever get jealous. To Bucky, you were the most beautiful person. You could walk out in rags, and his eyes would still gravitate to you. You were literally his grounding point, and he was so fucking in love, it would probably scare you if you ever came to realize.

"I'm tired," Bucky bid bye to Sam despite wanting to ask or beat it out of Sam what all you talked about, but he focused his attention on the gift in hand, eager to open it.

"Everyone's tired," Sam complained from behind. He didn't respond as he felt the insides of the gift.

He wondered if you got him another silly gift. He didn't mind if it was either. The bright pink keychain holder sitting on the kitchen aisle of his bleak apartment was the proof. He liked that you thought of him in whatever capacity. Also, it made him fucking joyful.

He wondered how you would react if you came to know that the neon green therapy buddy band you gave him, which he wore religiously to sleep every night, helped him sleep. Steve found it a few days ago and narrowed his eyes, fully knowing who had given the gift, but Bucky evaded the conversation since that incident.

You would surely be on your way home, and maybe a pit stop at Berno's for Pizza, Bucky wondered. When he sat on his motorbike and opened the gift carefully, he didn't know what to expect, but it was definitely not this: The first edition of the Hobbit. He was on the verge of tears.

Fucking hell, sweetheart!

He groaned loudly, probably scaring the bird perched on the twig beside him.

All he truly wanted to do was kiss you and yell at you all the same. He knew it costed a fortune because he tried to enquire about it when you both went to that Book Fest a few months ago.

Tethered to his insecurities, all his doubts were peeling away slowly but surely, all thanks to you. However surreal it sounded, he hoped you felt for him in some way, though he prayed you did feel for him as much as he did.

Or why would you constantly test his resolve like this otherwise? The rational part of his brain provided another factually appropriate answer: You were the most kind-hearted woman he'd known in his entire life, and it's a long life.

Last Christmas Eve, when Steve convinced you to come, Bucky loved and hated that you bought him and the others gifts. You were so kind and attentive. You met Steve and Sam only a few times, but you had gifted Steve a beautiful sketching set, which made Steve blush like a fool, and an automated multipurpose tool for Sam's wings. You even got Nat and Wanda a scarf and Tony a digital greeting card that was projected from the tiny Iron Man figurine. Tony was shocked and elated and gave you permanent access to the lobby kitchen, which was a pretty big deal for Tony.

You got Bucky a sweater; it made him reminisce about Christmas when he was young, and he forgot how it felt.

He forgot how home felt.

But ever since Wakanda, Steve did ensure going annoyingly out of the way to celebrate Christmas. Bucky wanted to wear the sweater when you gave it to him, but he restrained himself.

He even got you a small pendant with a tiny sun and a couple of sunflowers on either side, which truthfully, he got it made in May for your birthday but didn't find the courage to give you then, so he held on to it and gifted it on the day of Christmas.

It was purely stupid how he kept you away from Sam and Steve after that because Steve blushed six ways from Sunday when he saw his Christmas present, and Sam had downright hugged you. Bucky had to reign in his growl and not peel Sam away from you.

Bucky knew they were just friendly because they teased him with you, and Steve always had a shit-eating grin when you were around, but he couldn't simply take any chance. So, after that, he would say you were busy whenever they asked to invite you for an outing.

Bucky knew that was lame, but he feared if you spent time with his friends, you might eventually like one of them, and he couldn't compete with an average person, let alone someone like Steve or Sam. So, he kept you at bay.

When Bucky first met you, he hated that you were babysitting him. He didn't like that idea. You always greeted him with a bright smile and kindness; he felt undeserving. He evaded you like the plague, but you were fucking persistent. He eventually gave up not liking you running around with a broken arm for him despite looking as adorable as you did.

You respected his boundaries and let him be himself, just pushing enough. You understood him without having to say a word. You discarded Dr. Raynor's list once you felt his unease. You realized how he felt about crowded places and started taking him to places in the less rush hour. You took him to your favorite stargazing spot when he had a meltdown one evening. Bucky cried, sitting under the stars, and you gave him space, walking back to the car, saying you needed some water.

You didn't press him to talk or asked him how he was feeling or if he wanted to discuss it. Ever so often, you glanced over at him with a quiet reassurance that said he didn't have to be anything other than what he was at that moment. You simply let him be, and he never felt lonely.

When he was first asked to train the recruits, Bucky didn't know how to tell you that he felt nervous, but you understood and accompanied him, sitting through the training.

What took the cake was the day you punched that drunk asshole who passed some comments on him. Bucky was used to it, but you were livid, and he was too stunned to stop you. He felt so many mixed emotions that day that it shook him to no end. You stirred his senses in every fucking way deemed possible. With one prolonged eye lock, he would feel balmy all over. He was scared of the way his body was reacting to you.

Slowly but eventually, he realized you were a blessing to his tainted existence and loved you irrevocably. He didn't know how to go about it.

Bucky wondered if he could live a day when you loved him like he did. He hoped every damn moment despite feeling selfish to even pray for someone like you. Pushing his thoughts aside before spiraling into an anxious mess, he quickly started his bike and followed the well-versed route to your home.

~

It was funny how helpless you felt sitting by your apartment door when, not even a few hours ago, you were hanging off buildings with your colleagues to save civilians. You lost your house keys and, most likely, left them back in your locker at the compound. Generally, your house keys were attached to your car keys, but you replaced the car key recently and forgot to put the spare apartment keys to it.

It was no big deal; all you had to do was call the emergency services or the building supervisor, and they would come with the master keys. But your phone was out of charge, and you really didn't want to wake your neighbors. You looked at your watch blink 1:20 AM, which was the last straw as you slid by your door, throwing your backpack beside you, and pulled your knees closer to feel a bit cozy. Despite the warm March weather, you felt cold.

Everything caught up to you, and you burst into tears, feeling the dull ache in your body from the mission, mentally exhausted from overwhelming, unrequited thoughts for Bucky. You felt terrified and troubled.

All you wished for at that moment was to cuddle up in your bed and forget about everything. You groaned loudly as you got up determined, telling yourself to get your shit together. You probably needed to sleep in your car or return to the compound to get your keys. You wiped away your tears, fiercely picked up your backpack, and walked towards the elevator.

To your utter shock, the elevator doors opened to reveal none other than your resident mental occupant in all his tall handsomeness.

"Why are you crying?" Bucky demanded, in a tone you were very much used to, as he stepped out and looked at you keenly with concern. You stood there shocked, sniffing, unsure if you were dreaming or if he was really standing before you.

"What are you doing here?" You questioned him instead.

He didn't answer as he took another step closer, and pulled your left forearm in his gloved palm, and looked up and down your modest hallway, estimating any potential dangers. He always did that, sometimes so subtly you wondered if he was consciously aware even.

"What happened?" He asked again, his tone a bit more authoritative, and you sighed, feeling the warmth from his gloved hand. It singed your skin with so many fucking feelings you pulled away from him quickly.

"Lost my keys," you told him, wiping away the tears, feeling embarrassed to be caught in your turmoil of irrationality.

"That's it?" Bucky asked, and there was no mocking in his tone. Despite trying to read into his every word, he was just asking out of concern and hoping there was no looming danger you were escaping from.

You shrugged. "Why didn't you call me?" He asked like you were absolutely stupid not to think about it.

"If my phone didn't die on me, I would be inside my home right now, James," you quipped angrily.

A small, almost nonexistent grin appeared on his face. You knew how much he hated when you called him James in that mocking way Dr. Raynor called him, but you did it anyway.

He snatched your bag, "Hey," you shouted at him in disbelief.

"Come on." He demanded, and you stood confused.

"Where?" you asked.

But he didn't answer as he walked to your front door, squatting down with one knee on the ground, he removed something from his pocket.

All your earlier anger died, and you looked at him aghast.

"What the hell, Bucky?" You hissed.

He looked at you from where he was sitting with an eyebrow raised. Bucky chuckled, working on the knob with something small, obscured in his huge palm.

Honestly, you knew he was more than capable of tearing down the damn door from its hinges. So, you were merely grateful he didn't do it.

You wondered what he was doing here. Wasn't he supposed to be at the party?

~~~~~

Becoming one with each other is only possible with a dollop of happy accidents.

Bucky could almost see the questions swirling in your head. Truthfully, he hardly gave any thought to what he would accomplish when he saw you.

He simply hopped on his bike and rode through the night air. It was purely instinctive. To ensure you made it home safe, and maybe just maybe, if he did muster up some courage and knocked on your door this late at night, he would demand answers to why you would gift him the book.

But when he saw you behind those elevator doors, his heart dropped. He quickly caught onto your state, holding in the rage to inquire first what hurt you. He physically had to rein himself not to pull you into his arms. You looked so distressed it chipped his heart.

He was somewhat thankful you lost your keys because that delayed your questioning of his presence there.

When he knelt before your door, you were beyond shocked. He held the doorknob with the Vibranium hand, and you rushed forward, fearing he would break the door.

"What the hell, Bucky?" You whisper-shouted at him. He looked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at you.

"We are not trespassing. This is your home," he stated.

You rolled your eyes exasperatedly as you bend over his shoulder, looking at what he was up to when he shuffled in his wallet and pulled a small plier with his right hand.

"Don't break the knob," you warned him, crouching over his shoulder. One of your stray hairs escaped the clutches of the loose bun you tied, touching his right cheek and tickling his senses. Bucky gulped audibly.

"Do you mind?" He groaned, his voice coming out more irritated than intended. You stood up and pouted slightly, stepping to the side and leaned onto the wall beside the door. He had another quip ready on his tongue as he followed your suit, standing up, his metal palm fisting the knob.

When he looked at you, you stared up into his eyes with scrunched brows and a slight pout, looking so fucking adorable he could damn well kiss you right there against your front door, and no one could stop him. But he held back, instead twisting the knob and opening the door wide. "You underestimate me, doll," he rasped, licking his lips and clearing his throat.

~

You looked sideways, feeling a shit ton of gratitude for Bucky's exemplary sneaking skills.

Your shoulders sagged in relief, and you dragged yourself inside. Bucky followed you inside without hesitation. This was probably the second time he was here. The familiar sense of home enveloped him as he glanced around. Hardly anything changed, and it was just like how he saw it initially, except maybe a few more plants were added to the hall.

You took a few more steps inside and turned around suddenly.

"What are you doing here, Bucky?" You asked him as you ran a hand through your hair, adjusting the mess. But again, Bucky saw you in much worse state, so, you let your hair be.

He didn't say a word as he put down your bag beside the coffee table and took small steps toward you, looking at you with such intensity that it made you shiver. He pulled the familiar wrapped book from inside his jacket pocket, and your eyes widened involuntarily.

'Act cool,' You chastised yourself.

Bucky's blue eyes held your gaze as he stepped closer, engulfing your senses. Your neck strained looking at him.

"Why?" his soft voice belied his stormy gaze.

You stepped back, but his right-hand snaked around your waist, stopping you from taking another step. He didn't pull you close. No, but the hand remained softly and painstakingly still.

You realized how fucking gorgeous he looked even this closely. "Bucky," you started, licking your lips and clearing your throat to muster confidence.

"Are you drunk?" you asked as that was the first thing that popped into your head. His brows raised in surprise at your question before a small smile formed on his face.

"No, just wanted to make sure you are okay. You left the party before we finished talking," Bucks said, still not moving an inch. That party brought images of the blue-dress lady, and your insecurities swam back to the surface. You tried to step away, and this time, he let you.

"Thanks for checking in on me. I'm totally fine…umm…thanks for the door, too. If it wasn't for you…," you chuckled humorlessly, wondering how long it would have been for you to get back into your apartment. Bucky stared at you, listening to you intently, eyes searching your every expression. When you shut up, he leaned on the backside of the couch, crossing his legs at his ankles. He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up more, before folding his arms on his chest and staring at you.

You focused on the snake plant on the other side of the living room, trying not to look at the handsome man casually taking up your literal and figurative space. How long had it been since you watered it? It looked fine and healthy, but maybe you should look closer.

"Hey," his voice inevitably pulled your focus back on him.

"Why did you give me this?" he asked more affirmatively. You bit your lip from groaning out loud.

What do you even say?

"It's your birthday, Barnes," you declared with a chuckle as if he was unaware of the occasion. He rolled his eyes, exasperated, and sighed.

"Is it?" He scoffed. You nodded innocently. After a whole minute, he straightened up, wary of your behavior, as you stared back at him and did not give him any quirky replies.

"I'll let you rest," he sighed and walked towards the door. You were slightly relieved but momentarily felt the need to stop him from leaving. It was almost like he heard your inner battle because he abruptly turned to you.

You gasped at the suddenness and let your well-practiced, impassive look slip.

Bucky seemed to read you: the vulnerability and the need. Because the very next second, you were pressed on the wall near your kitchen entrance.

You let out an ungraceful squeak as he placed his metal arm beside you and crouched down to your eye level.

"No," he said, and you look at him stunned.

"No?" you repeated. Bucky nodded, licking his lips. Your eyes moved to them. Blue. Beautifully so.

"We are going to talk," he stated, pushing your hair behind your ear. Despite the gloves, his touch serenaded your skin, and you gasped, breathing in sharply. His eyes darkened, and he parted his lips, tracing his fingers underneath your chin. His intoxicating breath swept your senses.

"Bucky," you whimpered.

"You are so fucking gorgeous, doll," he said almost in a throaty whisper, and you looked at him, feeling the desperate need to close the gap between you.

A semblance of control took over you, and you cleared your throat, "You sure you're not high on something?" you whispered, your mind dizzy with sensation as he leaned his forehead onto you. Your body loses ground, gravitating towards him. He held you steady. His breath seemed ragged, too.

"I'm sure as hell high on you, sweetheart," his fingers traced your cheek, running a hot trail onto your throat as he pushed his huge palm on your heart, teetering on engulfing your left boob almost. Almost. You let out a moan, feeling the ringing in your ears and the heat spreading your cheeks.

"I like listening to this," he said softly.

Why was he doing this to you? You would combust into flames if he tortured you anymore. By the look of it, it seemed like he was attracted to you, but your heart didn't want to accept that fact just yet.

"James," you all but cry.

"You seriously gonna call me that, huh," he laughed, pushing his forehead an inch away, slightly rubbing his nose on yours.

You had a rational thought to push him away and protect yourself, but you were viciously woven with everything that was Bucky.

"Tell me," he demanded, placing a soft peck on your cheek and leaning onto your right ear, lips dancing on your skin, making you slick with want and desperation for him.

"You feel this too, don't you? It would be more than enough for me if you even remotely like me...I...I love you so much, sweetheart," he whispered, with a tinge of sadness in his tone.

It tugged at your heart.

He loved you.

Bucky loved you.

Your heart might burst in joy. So, all this while you were living in a stupid bubble of self-loathing while you could have confessed your feelings for him.

Frickin frack! Mother of Hallmark, stupid drama-loving life.

"Bucky…," your own eyes blurred with emotions and frustration.

"No, tell me… 'coz sure as hell your job description didn't have you to punch that moron that day, to nurture me back to life, to save me from myself...someone like me..." he breathed, his jaw clenched unable to finish his thought. You could see he was holding back his tears.

You looked at him sharply, shaking your head. "Don't say that, please," the tears escaped your eyes freely now.

He gave you a gentle smile, rubbing your tears away and kissing your forehead before looking into your eyes. His metal arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close to him gently.

It felt like he knew your answer already, but he was waiting for you to say it out loud, and you were marshaling everything in you to speak because, dear heavens, you were breathless.

"Come on, doll…put me out of this fucking misery," he groaned, lips ghosting yours.

"I love you," you told him. "Bucky, you have no idea how much, god you are so fucking annoying, but you are everything and more," you nodded at him. He chuckled, his vision glassy just like yours as he gently rubbed your lower back and his forehead on yours before looking into your eyes.

"I can be yours forever?" He asked with a hopeful, teary smile, and you laughed. Bucky Barnes was such a dork, and you were a simp for him. You nodded eagerly, and he leaned forward, cupping your jaw firmly and pecked your lips. The sensation was so overwhelming. It was almost like a fire was lit.

Bucky growled, tightening his hold on you, and you leaned forward eagerly, engulfed by his senses and his smell, which was so intoxicatingly warm and nice. The next kiss was nothing gentle; it was so intense that you had to grip his short hair with one hand and the other, taking hold of his jacket lapel.

When you broke the kiss, you looked at him sharply.

He pulled away slightly. "You good, sweetheart? 'Coz, I really couldn't tell if you were going to yell at me or kiss me again," he whispered teasingly, a slight twinkle in his eyes. You groaned, pulling him into another kiss, and he almost lost his balance as he placed one arm on the wall to steady your both.

God! He tasted divine!

When you broke away from the kiss, you chuckled tearfully, watching his glassy eyes fill with emotion.

"You're crying, Bucky? Was it that bad, or are you just overwhelmed by how irresistible I am?" You remarked, still fully dazed from Bucky's intoxicating presence.

Bucky smacked his lips and rolled his eyes playfully, caressing your cheek. Your bottom lip quivered as his thumb ran over it.

"I love you," he told you, and your heart fluttered, listening to him confess again.

"You look a little stunned there, too, doll. Don't worry, it's mutual, "he chuckled, pecking your lips again; he tasted so addicting you couldn't help but moan in that daze, and when he squeezed your waist, you yelped a bit louder than intended.

He suddenly shifted, and you looked at him surprised. A frown formed on his perfectly gorgeous face. "You are hurt," he said and experimentally ran his hand over your back, and you clenched your back in pain.

"Of course not," you lied through your teeth, not wanting the moment to end.

The sudden shift of his expression was comical. It gave you a whiplash.

"You are such a pain in my ass," he groaned as he carefully lifted you up and took you to the couch. You squealed holding his shoulders.

"Bucky, I'm not that hurt. Put me down," you shuffled, but he didn't let go until you were seated on the couch.

"Show me," he demanded as he squatted before you.

"Geee... Ask me out on a coffee at least before you demand me to strip," you remarked, and the way he blushes made you double down with laughter.

He rolled his eyes and looked at you sharply. "Always a grump," You grumbled, turning to your side and lifting your shirt slightly.

He loves you. He loves you. Your brain chanted for you, and your joy knew no bounds.

"Does it hurt here?" Bucky asked, with one arm gently holding you on the shoulder.

You thought of lying but sighed, "Just a bit."

"It's not swollen, so that's good," he said, pushing the shirt down.

Such a gentleman.

You smiled, and he looked at you with a shy grin.

"Come here," you said, hugging him to your heart's content. Bucky's broad shoulders and arms wrapped you in his big frame, making you feel all cozy and tiny.

"Best birthday present ever," he whispered, gently kissing your shoulder and enveloping you in his arms as he settled on the couch, pulling you onto his lap gently.

"Happy Birthday, Sergeant Barnes," you added, and he chuckled, placing another kiss on your hair.

~

Bucky never gave much thought to what he wore as long as his metal arm was covered, but right now, he felt out of depth as he stared at his closet. He had two formal shirts and three pairs of jeans. The other four were T-shirts. Deciding to go with the blue T-shirt and the leather jacket you got him, he rode to your place swiftly, wanting to be near you.

Last night, he didn't realize when he fell asleep in your arms, and it was the most peaceful he had slept in years. When he woke up in the morning, he was covered in a warm blanket that smelled like you, and he thought he was dreaming when you leaned down and placed a small peck on his cheek, wishing him good morning with a bright smile.

You made him coffee and breakfast, and he felt exhilarated; the sense of belongingness and home engulfed him. Ever since you first met, you always gave him boxes of food, and it became a habit at this point, but today, it felt different.

It was different.

When you looked at him with that smile as you sipped on your coffee, he couldn't help but pull you in for another kiss, knowing you were his. It was a supreme feeling, and he didn't want that feeling to end. He whispered 'I love you' against your lips for the third time as he left your place, promising to get dinner that night. "It's a date," he told you firmly, and you nodded eagerly.

Bucky sped to you. And when you opened the door, his eyes widened. You had worn a dark red dress that flowed around your waist and a denim jacket on your shoulders. You looked ethereal with your hair down.

He sighed dreamily, and you chuckled shyly, a blush tinging your cheeks. "Alright, enough with that face, Bucky," you said, shutting your door.

Everything felt new but familiar.

~

When you opened the door, Bucky stood there, dressed in a casual but perfectly fitted dark jacket you gifted for his birthday over a blue Henley and jeans highlighting his broad shoulders.

He looked gorgeous.

At your awkwardness at his dreamy look, he let out a laugh and pulled you closer, giving you a deep and thorough kiss that made your tummy flutter and panties drench and probably would have scarred Jenny on your floor if she lingered outside.

Bucky was a sinful kisser.

When you looked up and smiled at him, he kissed you again.

"Oh, shit...forgot these...here," he handed a bouquet. Your eyes widened at the gesture.

"You didn't have to, Bucky," you said dreamily, looking at the flowers and then at him. The last time you got flowers was probably when you graduated college and your parents gave them to you. It was funny you got all shy when he looked at you that way.

Bucky frowned. "Of course, I have to," he said, and your heart skipped a beat.

"I love them," you said to him, kissing his cheek. "Hold on, lemme put them in the water."

~

The setting sun crafted soft and vibrant hues, hinting at the promise of an even more perfect night. Bucky and you walked together a million times but the walk to the restaurant this time felt so different. It was thrilling and you were literally floating. Bucky held you close, gripping your hand in his warm hold.

The two of you decided on a small, cozy restaurant tucked away from the bustling streets, where the lights were slightly dimmer than the usual restaurants you used to usually go. The space was intimate, and the scent of freshly baked bread filled the air as you were led to your table near a window overlooking the softly lit street.

You both ordered easily, the familiarity of the connection for almost an year coming through. The conversation flowed naturally as you talked about everything and nothing: childhood stories, awkward teenage moments, favorite movies, and the silliest fears. You swapped funny moments from the therapy sessions you'd both been reluctantly pulled into. He told you all about what he felt when he first met you.

You loved watching him so vulnerable and happy. He was more relaxed, teasing you gently and smiling with that boyish charm that made your heart twitch in the best way. You noticed the small things: the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed and his long legs framing yours. He'd pressed them into yours, in a caressing touch.

As you finished your meal, Bucky glanced outside, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the sidewalk.

Bucky, looked at you with a playful glint in his eyes, "You up for a walk? It's too nice out to head home just yet."

"Yeah, let's go," you eagerly agreed.

The cool evening breeze brushed against your skin, and Bucky's warmth blanketed you cozily. The city was alive but not too overwhelming, just a gentle hum of life as people strolled by or sat at outdoor cafés, lost in their own worlds. Bucky walked beside you, his hand squeezing yours, each touch sending a small spark up your arm--and to other parts.

As you reached the waterfront, the city lights reflected off the gentle ripples of the river, creating a shimmering path that stretched into the distance. You walked slowly--Bucky, with his long legs did walk slower--the sound of water lapping softly against the pier and the faint chatter of distant conversations blending into a soothing symphony.

You found a bench nestled near the pier's edge and sat down side by side. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of saltwater and the occasional breeze that lifted the ends of your hair. For a moment, you were content to just sit there, enjoying the serene view and the quiet company.

Bucky pulled you impossibly closer, intertwining his fingers with you and pecking your forehead. For a while, you sat in comfortable silence, watching the city come alive with twinkling lights and the occasional sound of a passing boat.

Bucky gazed at you, his expression soft and thoughtful.

He leaned forward, pulling your waist a bit, twisting you towards him.

"You look so pretty," he whispered, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. It was supposed to be sweet, but the look you shared had him pulling you onto his lap, and you willingly complied, your dress inching up.

You could feel his hardness underneath all your layers, and you rolled your hips instinctively. He grunted at the feeling, clenching his jaw. His hand lingered on your thigh, and when you kissed him more, carding your fingers through his hair, he didn't hesitate to move his hands inside your dress, fingers trailing up and cup your ass, helping you move on him. He let out a low growl, and you bit his lip. He looked at you with a sly grin when you slowly opened your eyes.

"I should say sorry, but I'm really not," he winked at you, and you giggled, leaning to hide in the crook of his neck.

"But I think we will be arrested if we are caught. Plus, I don't want anyone to see you like this, and I think someone is coming," Bucky remarked, gently sitting you down beside him. You chuckled, licking your lips, adjusting your dress. Bucky ran a hand over your hair.

You set his jacket lapel straight, which you clutched in a death grip not a moment ago.

~

Apt to say Bucky was touch starved and ever since you confessed your love, he didn't hesitate to pull you into long bear hugs or kiss you senselessly.

Being with Bucky Barnes was a dream, surely, but equally damn frustrating. Initially, it was a bit overwhelming, and despite the heated make-out on your first date, he was still taking things slow, and you didn't want to hurry him.

You reeled in the need to climb him up like a tree or push his hands a little further down when they lingered on your chest, but you were aware he was still working on things and pushing him too much would worsen things for him. You didn't want to rush him whatsoever and were willing to take whatever he gave. He'd been through so much, and you want him to control the pace and not let your lust-hazed mind take the reins.

So, you were delighted when he pushed you back down on the couch and kissed you senselessly. Both of you were watching the TV, and one thing led to another, and you were dry-humping. He wound your leg around his back and breathed on you warmly. It sent a shiver down your spine the way he moaned.

And you were on the precipice when his phone rang, spilling a cold bucket of water on the moment. So, Bucky left reluctantly, not before pressing you against the door and kissing you like he was deprived, and then he smiled at you so softly, whispering I love you; it made you want to throw a fit.

He was so fucking perfect despite testing every bit of your resolve.

All you could do was take care of yourself after that rough make-out session; the memory of his hardness, hips rolling with force, made you want to tear down his pants and taste him. You wondered if he took care of his huge problem when he was in the confines of his apartment.

You groaned, imagining those callous hands running down his length and slowly inching inside your wet heat, stroking you the right way and the coil in your stomach built.

"Oh, shit," you moaned into the pillow, clutching the sheets in a death grip and feeling the tightness build in your belly.

Bucky Barnes was a walking sinful creature and dear God, you want to sin between those legs.

That image in your head brought your orgasm tumbling down. You let the vibrator fall away and sighed, turning on your back and normalizing your breath.

You heard a raspy chuckle, and you shrieked.

Sitting up straight, you covered your front with the blanket, thinking it was just a bad dream and Bucky was not really standing there at the door watching you like a hawk.

He looked at you from head to toe, and took a step closer. Your heart beat out of your chest, crescending on the verge of bursting.

What the hell was he doing here? Didn't he leave? When did he come back? Fuck!

Humiliation was a bad color, and currently, you were coated to a T.

"Bucky," you whispered, grappling at the fact he was actually standing there, looking intensely at you, and you hoped you didn't conjure any image.

He licked his lips, biting on the lower one, and your eyes inadvertently locked onto his stormy gaze.

What you felt at that moment was incomprehensible. The shameful feeling had your tummy fluttering, and your heart tugged as he didn't say a thing.

Did you just lose respect in Bucky's eyes? Should you maybe say something or laugh it off?

But--thankfully--he made the decision for you, and your throat ran dry.

Bucky had an impassive look as he took a few steps closer, still not saying a word. He discarded his jacket and threw it to the side without care, which took you by surprise because he looked so composed otherwise.

You felt the heat spread across your face, and your ears rang slightly, the post-orgasmic haze long gone, replaced by a feeling of being on edge, which you were not sure whether you liked or not.

Bucky pulled the chair from your writing desk. He lifted it with one hand, placed it closer to the side of your queen bed, and picked up the lavender vibrator that you discarded not so long ago, all the while not breaking eye contact.

His lips twisted in something that was a smug grin.

You held onto the blanket like your life depended on it, very well aware that you were stark naked underneath the covering. He sat back on the chair, almost dwarfing it. Your thighs clenched at the unapologetic way he dragged his eyes along the length of your body. Bucky leaned forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees. He curiously studied the vibrator.

You gulped, breath coming out ragged, when you noticed the tick in his jaw. Bucky let out a dark chuckle.

"Thought you were in pain, sweetheart. I almost tore down the front door," he said, and a smirk adorned his face.

You looked at Bucky guiltily, "But you were just playing with yourself," he cooed at you with hooded eyes, making your tummy flutter. You could feel the slick running down your thighs, "Bucky," you whispered, throat dry as he sat back comfortably, twirling the vibrator between his metal fingers.

He sat back, manspreading on the tiny chair, his form engulfing it. He curled two fingers up and gestured forward. Obeying him without a word, you inched closer, still clutching the blanket, wanting, needing to straddle him and kiss him.

Bucky's look was unwavering as he picked you up, holding your bare ass and settled you on him with the blanket still covering your front. He let out a deep growl that you felt resonating in his chest as you held him for support. You gasped at the feel of his bulging cock in his pants.

He pulled you impossibly closer, and you could literally feel the warmth of his entire body engulfing you. He rubbed one of his hands on the bare skin of your back, leaving your skin burning, yearning. His darkened blues crinkled, promising you dirty things.

Your humiliation dripped away into arousal when he finally pulled you in for a kiss. It was just like the one he gave you before he left, intense with all tongue and teeth. Bucky's fingers carded through your hair, and he pulled you by your nape; the slight, painful tug made you moan without trepidation.

Breaking the kiss, he licked his lips, and they part slightly as he breathed heavily. He placed open-mouth kisses on your jaw and all the way to your throat, and you felt the need for his lips on yours again.

"My pretty girl," he rasped in your ear, nipping at your lobe, and you let out a loud cry at the sensation. He groaned eagerly, pulling you into another kiss, and the way his tongue moved made you whine in need, wanting to feel his hands on you, in you. He let out a grunt, pulling back and looking at you.

"Were you thinking of me when you played with yourself?" he demanded, his voice a few octaves lower, soft with a slight twinkle in his eyes and his demeanor a bit too intense. You bit your lip, hiding in the crook of his neck.

"Yes," you whispered, unable to meet his intense gaze.

Bucky hummed, pleased with the answer. He kissed you gently on your bare shoulder. His scruff felt delectable as he nipped your exposed skin. He tugged at the blanket gently, and you straightened in his lap. Bucky didn't pull it out of your grasp but waited for you, and when you loosened the grip on the blanket, he smiled at you almost dreamily, letting it fall in your lap, covering just your upper thighs and pussy.

He looked down hungrily, licking his lips and looked up at you again, asking for permission. And if you were in a better mind, you'd have rolled your eyes, but you simply nodded eagerly.

"These are mine," he said, looking up from your tits. You would have said, 'Everything is yours, Bucky,' but your throat was parched.

You nodded, agreeing enthusiastically, waiting for him to touch you in any way. His hand went to your ass, and he lifted you slightly and kissed your right tit, and you let out a satisfied cry. He nuzzled his cheek, running his sharp nose on the skin, applying a bit of pressure before he took your left boob into his mouth entirely and sucked, running his tongue on your nipple. You gasped pathetically as you fisted his hair and shirt in a strong vice.

"Umm," he moaned, feeling far too lost as he kept sucking and lapping at your tit.

Holy shit, you could come just like this!

You felt him harden some more as he rolled his hips upward, and you felt the friction on you just the right way as you grinded down on him, wanting to remove the blanket and tear his pants down and suck him dry.

Your one hand traveled down his chest experimentally, nails running down his thin shirt, and he grunted loudly. You rolled your hips once again, and he hissed in pleasure, throwing his head back and letting out a throaty moan. Bucky pushed your hips apart, and you whine in displeasure.

He shook his hand as one of his hand massaged your tit, rubbing the pad of his thumb on your pebbled nipple. You were perched on him, with his denim-covered thighs touching your undersides sensually.

"I will give you everything, doll, but before that...," he rasped, running his other hand down the length of your spine and squeezing your ass roughly, making you cry in pleasure.

"Show me," he demanded, pulling you a bit away from him and handing you the vibrator.

Mortification, that's what you felt at the sly way his eyes crinkled. He raised his brows and turned on the vibrator, and the faint buzz filled the silent room.

"Wanna see you make yourself cum for me," he breathed on your jaw, biting it gently, and you moved closer to him, "From up close, doll. You will do that for me, won't you?" he asked quite innocently, toying with your tit running his Vibranium hand on your outer thigh and inching the pooled blanket upwards.

Oh!

You bit your lip in misery. Bucky Barnes was a fucking menace, and he was nowhere close to the innocent gentleman you thought he was. You knew he was charming, but how the fuck did he get to be...all this? You were screwed, in a good way, of course.

He saw you concede and let out a sly grin. "This is obstructing my view," he said, pulling off the blanket. You choked on your breath, gasping as you were now sitting on your fully dressed man while you were buck naked with a vibrator in your hand.

Your man, though. Your man!

You couldn't possibly conjure up such an erotic dream now, could you?

Holy shit! You were not going to last long.

He looked down at your bare pussy, and he moaned needily, grasping your waist and squeezing it, licking his lips and looking at you.

"Fucking pretty and all mine. Go on. Show me. fuck yourself," he ordered, adjusting you on his lap.

Propriety was a long-lost dream at this point. So, when you shyly touched your clit with the vibrator, you whimpered in delight. And Bucky held you grounded on the spot.

Before long, you were lost in the familiar haze, pushing the vibrator inside your slick channel and needing to close your legs for better friction, but his legs and the position he held you in were thwarting you from moving. His right palm stretched on your upper thigh, and he squeezed tightly, leaving red marks all over. He moved his hand to the inner thigh, massaging the skin with a bit more pressure, and you felt your pussy clench in delight, and you just wanted his rough fingers touching you.

He didn't move though.

"Please," you begged. Bucky nodded, pulling you in for another short kiss and looked at you intensely, at the way the vibrator slipped in and out, and the way your slick coated it. He groaned, biting his lower lip. He moved his hand to squeeze your hip while his metal palm rubbed the underside of your tit before squeezing it.

The coldness of his palm, the sensual way he was rubbing your ass, and his presence in general surmounted your senses, and you careened to your orgasm. However, the vibrator died, and you gasped breathlessly, cursing your fate.

Your frustrated cry and his laughter resound in your hazy mind, and he tutted, almost condescendingly, "That's unfortunate," he said with a smug smile. You would have retorted, but your needy mind resigned to begging him instead.

"Touch me, please, Bucky… please," with tears running down your cheeks.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I'll smack you if you don't touch me," your frustrated cry earned another chuckle.

"You never have to beg me for anything, doll," he said, fingers inching closer and closer to your pussy, and you waited, tethered on the edge of pleasure.

"Well, maybe sometimes…," he stopped as an afterthought, and you gripped his palm, trying to pull him closer to where you want, but he resisted. "I would love for you to beg," he added, bringing your clutching palm to his mouth. He placed a kiss on the inside of your palm and moved to kiss your fingers; his tongue peeked out slightly as he licked your fingertips.

"Bucky," you gasped as he looked at you with need. He let go of your hand, and ran his rough tips from the middle of your chest to the lower abdomen, halting slightly.

"You got somewhere to be?" he mocked, and you looked at him surprised.

Smug son of a gun!

"So pretty," he said, finally, running his fingers across your slick heat and turning his hand to cup you, palming your aching mound, and his fingertips brushed against your wet channel. He let out a loud, filthy sound as you breathlessly arched your back. He slowly inched his middle finger inside your wet channel until his first knuckle, and you bucked in his lap.

"You are clenching me so tight." He hissed as he looks down dreamily. Bucky's look, the days and days of needing him and the first touch made you reel as your orgasm hit you embarrassingly fast.

Needing to feel him much closer, your hand moved down and lifted his shirt, and he helped you remove it.

"You're perfect," you ran your palm down his chest, admiring him and feeling lucky to be his.

He gazed up at you and grinned shyly.

"She's dripping for me, baby girl," he said, looking at you amazed. "All for you," you told.

That made him snap.

"Fucking right," he said, standing up and pushing the chair away with his foot and depositing you on the bed as he hovered over you with his metal arm beside your head and kissed you senseless, leaving you completely out of breath, his fingers running up and down your pussy lips. His thumb roughly circled the clit while his metal arm caressed your cheek softly, and you wailed in pleasure, rocking your hips into his hand. He moved down to place kisses on your throat, and you mewled, feeling too sensitive. 

He sat on his heels and pulled you up. You squeaked at the way he manhandled you so effortlessly.

"Been dreaming of you for so long," he said, squeezing your thighs and pushing you to arch your back into the air. Bucky's eyes twinkled under the dim light from the lamp when he looked at you. "I love you," he exclaimed softly, kissing your chin and nipping it slightly.

He rubbed his thumb on your clit, and you clenched in need. "I know," he whispered, almost cooing as he gently bit your ear.

"Stop me if it's too much," he said and waited, and you realized he was asking for your consent.

"Yes, Bucky… just fuck me." You cried in need. He pulled your chin, "Look at me," he ordered, pushing his finger inside you and slowly fucked you, and it felt magical.

"Fuck," you shouted, gasping for air as he angled his finger dexterously exploring inside, and you arched off his lap.

"Should I stop?" he asked worriedly, and you looked at him like he was crazy. "No," you wanted to say instead cried in delight.

But when he stopped moving and looked at you with concern, you mustered up your sanity and shook your head. "Keep going, lover boy," you rasped, and he did.

Oh, sweet heaven! He did. Pushing in a bit more, and he chuckled into your mouth, breathing heavily, lips parted.

Bucky looked like a fucking dream. He lowered you down on the bed and moved his finger inside you, angling around to test what made you tick. When you felt the familiar twitch in your lower belly, you wailed out, moaning his name like a prayer.

"So tight. How will you take me, baby? We gotta stretch her nice for me," he grunted, his jaw clenched, still holding your gaze.

"I don't think you'll be able to walk for quite some time. I'll carry you around. I don't mind," Bucky mused thoughtfully, and your eyes rolled back as the pleasure combusted you.

"Eyes on me," he ordered, and you clenched him hard.

You obeyed, staring into his almost darkened eyes and felt the need to please him so badly it appalled you. You arched off the bed as he pushed another finger in completely. You felt his palm flatten on your clit, rubbing sensually. "Aww look how needy she is," he chuckled.

Bucky fucked you with a renewed effort. You scraped your nails on his back, and he clenched his jaw. You tilted your face up and nipped at his jaw gently.

He set a languid pace, and before long, you were clutching his forearm as leverage with both your hands and rolled your hips forward and your orgasm consumed you with such a force that your breath hitched.

Bucky pecked your jaw softly as you came down.

When he massaged your overstimulated clit, you pulled away from him. He let out a satisfied chuckle, and leaned down on you, holding your jaw to look into your eyes. He popped the fingers that just fucked you into his mouth and groaned in pleasure.

Your cheeks flushed as you look at him, shocked and flushed.

"You taste better than plums," Bucky said, nodding to himself. He picked you up, and gently settled you on the pillows like you weigh nothing.

"I need a proper taste," he declared, running his hand on the back of your thigh, bending your leg at the knee and placing it on his right shoulder while holding down the other as he placed his forearm on your stomach, holding you down.

His metal palm ran on the inside of your thigh before you hear the whirring, and he looked at you slyly as he separated your pussy lips and licked his lips. He blew gently, and your pussy fluttered. You let out an unholy pornographic noise.

"You don't have to," you said, suddenly feeling shy.

"It's funny you think I'm doing you a favor," Bucky stated, kissing your clit, and you shrieked. He hovered back up to you, speaking against your mouth. "I've been dying to devour you for a long time, pretty girl, so lie back and let me eat you in peace," he exclaimed, and you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you once more before moving down.

"Fucking gorgeous," he whispered. "See for yourself. Keep those gorgeous eyes on me," he prompted. Sitting back on his heels, Bucky unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down and discarding them somewhere behind. He leaned down and rubbed his nose, "Say, stop, and I will," he promised softly, and you nodded reverently, holding onto every little thing.

"But first," He straightened up, picking up your vibrator and chucked it away to a corner. The vibrator clinked to the corner of your desk and fell down somewhere you couldn't see. "You won't be needing it, I'm here…and that's nothing close to the real deal." He winked at your shocked face. You couldn't help but giggle, but as soon as his mouth descended on your aching and needy pussy, you ascended into your pleasure just as fast.

Bucky Barnes was a fucking handsome grumpy menace. And he was all yours.

Epilogue

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Permanence

| Part 01: Echoes of Reverie

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC x Bucky Barnes | Stucky x OFC (I referred to her as she/her, as requested, to help with connection, and only used her name where it felt relevant) Warnings: Fluff | Angst | Slight Pining | Angry Bucky | Poly relation | Eventual Smut Galore | Eventual Fluff Galore | ~4.5k | Canon divergent | Named OFC: Lienna Nightingale | Happy ending (it's me!) | Kept the warnings basic 'coz I don't wanna reveal a lot | Unbeta'd | Lemme know if I'm missing anything. A/N: This is my first-ever OFC, so forgive any indiscretions. 😅 I'm super nervous, TBH! I have a lot of people to thank. Firstly, thank you for trusting my writing enough to send in this beautiful ask @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog You know how much I adore this story, and I hope I do it justice. I'm truly sorry for how long I sat on this one--I know it's special to you, just as it is to me. I really hope I deliver. Thank you for bearing with me for so long, dear. And thanks to @stellar-solar-flare , @buck-star , @late-to-the-party-81 Every teeny suggestion helps! You guys are the absolute best! 🩷 This is also my submission for Stucky Bingo | Prompt: Adrenaline | @stuckybingo Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner and Divider made by me. Picture credits to the internet! Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Indulge Away!

New York City, 2011

Steve felt a little queasy. Maybe skipping breakfast wasn't the best idea. But he was too excited to care. Watching the game with Bucky and her, especially from the incredible seats Mr. Barnes had scored for them, was more than enough to keep his spirits high.

Curveball. High and outside for ball one.

It was a pleasant day. The bright blue summer sky gleamed, cloudless, and Steve was so happy, that he was practically floating on cloud nine. He felt strange though, like he'd lived through this memory countless times, and yet, he didn't want it to end.

"Hey, give 'em to me, punk. You gonna eat it all?" Bucky's voice rang loud and warm in his ear, right as he yanked the fries out of Steve's hand.

"Let him eat, Buck," She grumbled. She reached over, snatched the fries back from Bucky's grip, and handed it to Steve, her fingers brushing his. Then, the little menace she was, she dipped into the fries Steve had been cradling and stole a few for herself.

"Hey, now. I said I'd buy extra," Steve teased, holding the fries behind him far from her reach with a smirk that made her squint at him in mock irritation.

"Guess you'll have to make that run anyway, punk," Bucky laughed, nudging him. She and Bucky both doubled over, cackling. Steve turned only to find a little kid who'd wandered over and taken a fistful of his fries, grinning up at him. Steve chuckled and gave him the rest.

"Sharing your food? You might be the kindest man I've ever met," she said, with that beautiful smile that revealed a tiny dimple on her left cheek and never failed to make his heart flutter. Bucky caught his gaze and winked, grinning like a devil. Steve felt his face flush, heat creeping up his neck.

"Shut up," Steve muttered turning his focus to the field, but his mind was on the two people beside him.

Steve leaned back into the warmth beside him, Bucky's shoulder solid against him. She clutched his other arm, her delicate fingers laced with his own, eyes fixed on the game. This was home. The game in the background, the cheer of the crowd, and the two people he loved on either side. Perfect.

But there was that queasy sensation again. Steve shifted, and for a moment, he thought he felt something soft pressing against his head.

Suddenly, he was no longer in the Ebbet's field.

.

.

She sat beside him on the windowsill of his apartment, squeezing his shoulder lightly, assuring.

"You've got me, Steve. Bucky will be fine," she said, but he could sense she didn't believe that either, but he held onto her hand tightly. She leaned her head onto his shoulder as they stared at the Hudson, watching boats float by.

Something felt off.

Was he dreaming?

.

.

His surroundings shifted to that dreadful afternoon when he received the letter with a small pocket watch and a tiny feather. She left him. She left him. He cried unbothered as he read the letter sitting on that wobbly chair in Chicago's USO tour. Steve felt his world close in.

It all faded again, and then he was somewhere else. Bucky beside him in his uniform. A bar. 'Listen to me, Steve. Once this is over, we're gonna find her,' Steve could only nod at the conviction in Bucky's voice as he stared at Bucky's raging blues.

"Steve," Bucky's voice became more muffled this time. What's that noise? A train? He was on the train.

"STEVE."

"BUCKY…Buck...hold on."

Bucky looked up at him silently, fearfully. He lost the grip on the bar and Steve couldn't reach him in time.

Bucky fell, and Steve jumped after him.

~

Steve's eyes flickered open. He blinked a few times; the pale white ceiling came into focus. He frowned. He was in a room. Everything came to him at light speed. The memory of him crashing into the water, thoughts of Bucky and her before he felt the cold seep through, lulling him unconscious.

So, the Dodgers are tied, 4-4.

But he was there at the game. Then why was it being broadcast? Something wasn't right.

And the crowd well knows that with one swing of his bat, this fellow's capable of making it a brand-new game again.

Steve remembered Bucky and him assuring her that the game would turn.

Just an absolutely gorgeous day here at Ebbets Field.

It was. Steve knew that. He remembered filling pages and pages of memories from that day. She looked exceptionally pretty. She wore a white dress, with faded prints of lilacs and poppy flowers, spattered across her dress. Bucky wore a much darker shade of blue shirt than him. He looked so young and handsome.

Steve felt the softness of the bed, the light sifting through the window too bright as his focus shifted to the room around. It looked like a hospital room, the fancier kind. The radio looked familiar, and the flowers smelled fresh, too.

The Phillies have managed to tie it up at 4-4. But the Dodgers have three men on.

The memory of crashing into the arctic water rushed into the forefront of his mind, and he mentally scanned his body, but the pain was the last thing he felt.

Pearson beaned Resiser in Philadelphia last month.

Steve vividly remembered the day. Dodgers win. Bucky, Lienna and he had gone to the little Italian place two blocks from Ebbets Field after the game. His memory was sharp, and it was that game, the day that remained one of his most treasured memories.

Something was terribly off. Where was he? Did he die? Was this some afterlife thing? Would he find Bucky like he thought? Would she be here?

Wouldn't the youngster like a hit here to return the favor? Pete leans in. Here's the pitch.

Steve's enhanced hearing picked up noises from outside the room. Kids playing, some buzzing, cars running, two people talking outside.

'What are you doing here, agent?'

'Vitals?'

'Agent.' Steve picked up from the conversation. Was this Hydra?

Steve turned back to see the potential exits. The window seemed possible, but something was wrong. He could see the people in the building, but they were blurred and moving in a loop.

Swung on. A line to the right. And it gets past Rizzo.

'Stay alert,' he heard from outside the door. Footsteps approached the door, and Steve's heart picked up.

Three runs will score. Reiser heads to third. Durocher's going to wave him in. Here comes the relay, but they won't get him.

The door opened, and a woman entered.

"Good morning," she smiled, closing the door and standing near it, blocking. "Or should I say afternoon?" Steve gathered she was an American. Was this the agent?

"Where am I?" He asked, his throat felt rough, unused. He needed water.

"You're in a recovery room in New York City," she said.

The Dodgers take the lead, 8-4. Oh, Dodgers!

Steve heard a distant whistle and turned to look through the window again, nothing had changed.

Everyone is on their feet! What a game we have here today, folks! What a game, indeed.

The woman was lying clearly.

"Where am I really?" Steve asked again, listening intently to the conversation outside. He could hear men talking, walking closer.

"I'm afraid I don't understand." She said.

"The game. It's from May 1941. I know, 'coz I was there." Steve told her firmly. "Now, I'm gonna ask you again. Where am I?" Steve could sense her fear, and he noticed her hand flicking to something behind. Was it a weapon? He could jump out of the windows, but those windows didn't seem right to him. The door was the only option.

"Captain Rogers…"

Steve heard more footsteps and hurried voices.

"Who are you?" Steve yelled.

The door opened, and two men entered, and Steve punched them right through the door before they approached. They went flying and fell into the hallway, cracking open the whole space.

The room was a setup. Where the hell was he?

Was it Hydra? But how could that be possible? Did they find him?

Doors burst open as he charged through level after level of the mysterious, clinical-looking facility.

Something was terribly wrong. Where was he? Was this Hydra? Did they capture him after all? He most definitely didn't feel this was an afterlife.

'All agents, code 13!' He heard through the speakers. He dashed through the double doors and there were more men in suits. He saw two armed men on the end, and Steve took off through the other end of the hallway and out through the exit.

Shit. Shit.

He ran as fast as he could, but his steps faltered as he took in his surroundings.

His mind exploded. Lights in broad daylight. Massive screens. Towering buildings. Crowds. Noise.

Steve stood frozen. This was wrong.

His breathing quickened. A thousand questions flooded his mind, memories clashing with the overwhelming reality before him. Too many people. Crowd. Loud. Honking.

What were those? Cars? They looked different.

"At ease, Soldier," he heard. A man with an eye patch approached. Steve's thoughts went berserk. Who was he? Should he punch the other eye and run for it?

"Look. I'm sorry about the little show back there, but," the man started speaking, sighing before he continued, "We thought it best to break it to you slowly." He said.

"Break what?" Steve asked, confused out of his wits.

"You've been asleep, Cap. For almost 70 years," he said.

Steve felt his ground shift.

No.

No.

No.

When he took down the jet, Steve felt an eerie kind of peace. In his final moments, he let himself believe he'd saved her, along with the countless others who'd never known him. It was poetic, really. He'd taken the serum for her, after all. For a chance at a future they were never granted, and maybe--just maybe--he'd see Bucky again if there was an afterlife.

Fate, however, deemed he needed to simply suffer.

"You gonna be okay?" The man asked.

Steve said nothing as melancholy settled thickly in his mind.

What would he do in a world without Bucky and her?

Skovheim, Norway, 2011

It was bitterly cold. She draped the throw blanket from the couch, hoping to keep herself warm. She hated the cold. It reminded her of terrible times, times of loss.

She'd pushed those thoughts away and went to check on the cake. Plum. His absolute favorite. She turned off the oven and set the cake on the tray to let it cool.

The clock ticked past seven, and the branches of the birch tree outside rattled on the kitchen window. The wind picked up. It had been raining since morning, which was rare for this time of year.

Bucky was never late.

Fear mounted her by the second.

She turned off the light in the kitchen to get a glimpse down the winding road.

The sensors had stopped working and needed to be replaced. Bucky had installed several of them, starting from the point where the hidden road to their cottage began, down at the base of the hill.

The cottage was located up the steep hill, hidden by luscious trees, with a patch of birch trees between the thick coverage. It was beautiful, to say the least, but most importantly, it was strategic. One side was shielded by the edge of the mountain, which overlooked the sea, and there was only one way of entry and no residences nearby.

She told herself the roads were probably flooded--or maybe there were fallen trees. Bucky was a supersoldier; moving a tree or two would be nothing for him. Still, unease coiled tight in her chest. She could sense him, just like she had always known he was alive--even back when the world grieved Sgt. Barnes' heroic death in World War II. She knew Bucky was alive. But she worried. She was, after all, more human. Moments like this made her wish she had the power to teleport.

She didn't want him to go in the first place, but they were running low on groceries, and Bucky was fretting about replacing the sensors and security system. Usually, night was a safer time to avoid interaction with the townsfolk. Also, Arne, their trusted contact, was to meet with Bucky in the town to deliver the equipment, monitors, transponders, sensors, and a few others. She hated that she couldn't convince Bucky to let her join. James Buchanan Barnes was a stubborn man, alright.

She heard a distant roar and ran toward the window; she could barely make the lights--one brighter than the other--of their pickup truck in the foggy downpour. She ran and waited by the door. Her nerves wouldn't settle until she saw him.

She stood by the door. 'Come on. Come on,' she chanted. After a few minutes, she heard the shuffling behind the door.

Then came the creak of the door--a groan against the frame that made her freeze.

Silence.

Then, two knocks. Two seconds apart.

Her body moved before she could breathe in relief, hand on the knob, waiting.

He'd drilled it into her head: Never open unless you hear the knock.

She unlatched the door and let it swing open against the push of the wind.

Bucky stepped inside, closing the door behind him, with more force than necessary. Water dripped from the hem of his coat, pooling on the wood floor. The cap was soaked, plastered to his head, shadowing his eyes.

He didn't greet her with the usual, 'I'm here, I'm okay.' in that gentle tone like he usually assured her every time he returned.

She searched his eyes, worry wrecking her gut.

"I'm fine," Bucky muttered after a few seconds, eyes flicking to her face.

She let out a sigh of relief. He seemed off but she didn't think much about it, more worried that he was soaked to the bones.

"You're drenched," she said, worried.

"It's pouring," he offered with a faint, bitter chuckle, trying to toe off his boots, but they were sloppy wet, squelching with the slightest movement.

"You don't say," she chuckled, trying to tug the boot off as he shifted his weight.

"I got it," he hissed sharply.

She stilled immediately, retrieving her hand and standing up. Bucky rarely got this way. Touch used to bother him a few years ago. But for the last couple of years, it seemed like he was past that. Now, her mind was back to worrying.

"Are you okay?" She asked softly. Bucky stiffened. Her focus shifted to his right hand, fisted tightly around the box in his hand. He seemed to notice as he flexed his palm, and he dropped the box beside the door, along with two other bags, wordlessly.

She dragged the old chair from the dining table, the legs scraping softly across the wood.

He lowered himself into the chair, broad shoulders hunched, clothes clinging to his body and accentuating his form. Bucky didn't meet her eyes, removing his shoes, almost tearing them off his feet.

She reached for his cap and gently tugged it off his head. He finally looked at her, and she was pretty sure he looked miffed.

"You'll get sick," she muttered.

"I don't get sick," he quipped.

She tutted, his mood firing up her frustration further, but she knew nothing would yield when he was in a mood. She'd wait to ask questions later, once he showered and ate.

"Hang up your things. I'll make you some tea. Don't take long in the shower." She said.

She noticed the stiffness in his shoulder as he walked to the bathroom at the far end of the living room. That shoulder must be acting up again. The cold always made it worse. She wondered if he'd let her ease the pain in peace or if she'd have to coax him into it.

By the time Bucky returned from the shower and changed into his joggers and Henley, she had mopped the floor and unpacked the groceries from the waterproof bags.

His hair was still wet, droplets falling. It was fricking cold, and this man didn't flinch. It bothered her how blatantly reckless he was with his health. It bothered her how much he affected her, all while looking infuriatingly gorgeous. She'd rather not delve into those waters. It was a dangerous realm.

So, she ignored the trickling water droplets down the expanse of his neck and internally berated herself. She handed him the cup of tea and turned to fetch a dry towel. Bucky's gaze followed her as she walked to get another dry towel.

She noticed him eyeing the cake when she returned with a towel. "You're not getting a single piece if you don't dry your hair right now," She said, pushing the towel toward him.

"Is that so," he sniggered, looking down at her, and she caught the sly twitch of his pink lips before he turned to sit on the couch.

Bucky wasn't the man she remembered from the 40s--the playful, flirty, sassy, nerdy boy from Brooklyn. Hydra had changed him immensely so. It had been almost a decade since he escaped their clutches, a decade since she found him. He was healing slowly but surely. She'd like to believe that. They'd been through a lot, collectively as well as individually. So, the little glimpses of the lost man always rejoiced her.

Eventually, he'd get there. He had to.

"Stop it, you'll hurt your neck," She chastised when she noticed him vigorously moving his head against the towel. She pulled the towel from his grasp, at least tried. Initially, Bucky didn't budge but he reluctantly let go. She smiled, victorious, as he slumped into the couch and sighed, letting her gently towel off his hair.

She knew he hadn't slept well last night. He'd almost finished reading the book he had started--she noticed the bookmark.

Every time he had to go into the town, he got tense. Bucky wouldn't tell her, but she knew it. They'd been living and navigating through this life for a few years now. Though she was grateful he'd come a long way, Bucky still had a long winding road ahead to fully heal.

"That's how you do it, Sgt Barnes," She jested, pulling his hair back into a small bun. He let out a satisfied hum, which made her stomach flip.

"Hand me that scrunchie," she asked.

He leaned over, tugging her gently along the couch as she held his hair up. That's when she noticed him flinching.

"Bucky?" She quickly tied his hair and moved around to sit beside him on the couch. She tried to reach for his hand, but he pulled away.

"Bucky," she prompted, this time pleading.

He sighed, pulling the sleeve of his right arm up his veiny forearm, and the long gash of red and blue bruise marred on his skin. If his serum didn't already heal, it only meant the bruise was worse, to begin with.

"What happened?" She asked, worried and angry that he hadn't told her about it.

"It's nothing," he dismissed, "Got a flat, had to change the tire in the nasty weather. Hurt myself," he finished, already pulling away, but she held onto it with all her strength, fighting him. He didn't look guilty, unlike the other times when he hid his injuries or sufferings. He looked unapologetic.

"Bucky."

"Anna," he murmured.

"Shut up and stay put," She hissed, livid. This wasn't the first time, and she knew it wasn't going to be the last. Bucky loved to suffer, and he thought he was reaping all the consequences of his actions. She'd fight this war with him until she won despite losing the battles every now and then.

She cupped her palm over his bruise and closed her eyes, feeling the warmth emanate. She felt the faint, dizzying sensation. When she opened her eyes, the bruise faded, and the skin on his warm forearm looked normal, with no sign of the gash anymore.

Bucky's silence was telling, the sharp tick of the jaw and the crease between his brows, and she waited for a long moment, but he said nothing.

"What?" She asked, not being able to bear his silence anymore.

"Nothing." He bit out rather harshly.

"I can't see you hurt," those words hurtled before she could stop. In an attempt to belie her vulnerability--her love, she got up from there, hoping to fade her emotional turmoil. She blinked back the tears threatening to spill and made her way to the kitchen, willing her thoughts to quiet as she focused on heating up dinner.

"Bucky, dinner's ready," she called out, surprised to see him already near his bedroom door.

He paused, hand resting on the doorknob. "I'm not hungry," he muttered.

"I made your favorite cake," she said softly, trying to coax him. She hated it when he went without eating. He hadn't skipped a meal in a long time, not since the early days after escaping Hydra, when nausea haunted him daily. She knew too well that when the mind is in chaos, the appetite is usually the first thing to go.

"Not hungry," he repeated, more bitterly this time, before disappearing into his room and closing the door behind him.

~

She couldn't sleep--not until she knew he was. She got up to get a glass of water when she heard him cry out.

"NO. PLEASE. NO."

Bucky was sobbing, groaning.

She dropped the bottle, heart pounding, and ran to his room. The door was open, thankfully. But he wasn't in bed. She switched on the table lamp and found him curled on the floor.

"Buck. Hey, hey…it's okay," she called, crouching and reaching for his face.

"No… not you," he cried, grabbing her wrist in a panic.

"It's a dream, Bucky. Wake up."

He jolted awake, eyes red and glassy, staring at her.

"It was just a dream," she soothed, wiping his face. He grasped her hands, pressing her palms to his cheeks. Bucky pulled her into his lap.

"You're hurt, Anna," he gasped, frantically inspecting her neck and arms and turning her hands over.

"Bucky, I'm alright. Just a bad dream," she whispered, eyes stinging.

"Breathe. You're okay. I'm okay."

"I…" he choked, then pulled her into a tight hug, sobbing into her shoulder. She held him just as tightly, tears falling freely now.

"I'll get you some water," she whispered after a moment. But he wouldn't let go.

"Okay… okay… just lie down with me. I'm not going anywhere," she murmured, gently easing him back on the bed and snuggling into his warmth.

~

In an attempt to calm him, she talked about random things--from constellations to the book she'd been reading, which she thought was horrible, and why. He let out a throaty chuckle when she told him they should seriously reconsider the situation with Gollum, the alpine hare they'd named, who visited their humble garden now and then and caused a ruckus.

Eventually, she convinced him to let her make some tea. He followed her to the kitchen without a word.

"Buck…" she started, unsure.

She slid the mug toward him. He leaned onto the counter and slowly sipped. She studied him for a long moment and then asked softly, "What happened out there?" She was pretty sure something was bothering him.

He didn't answer immediately. Bucky took a few slow sips.

"I saw Hagen," Bucky said finally, eyes fully focused on her.

She stilled. Her eyes widened as things clicked into place. The subtle hostility when he'd returned home that evening. The nightmare that followed. It all made sense now.

She had chalked it all up to the rain--he was soaked through when he walked in. She should've guessed that his silence was more telling than his words.

She didn't expect this.

The odds of that encounter were next to none tonight. That's what she'd counted on. Exactly five days ago, when Bucky made the trip to the city to place an order with Arne, their electronics guy, she'd ventured alone into town. She'd broken his most sacred rule--never go anywhere without me.

But they lived in a far corner of nowhere, surrounded by mountains and mist, and the town was safe even if Bucky thought otherwise.

Mr. and Mrs. Hagen, who owned the small bookstore they frequented, were kind people. That day, she'd noticed how worn Mr. Hagen looked, how his eyes sagged with worry. When she gently asked about it, he told her Mrs. Hagen's health was failing. And when he asked if she wanted to see Mrs. Hagen, she agreed.

Mrs. Hagen was a lovely lady. She and Bucky visited the store every now and then, hoarding books as they both enjoyed reading, and Mrs. Hagen often added a couple of books onto the pile for free. 'You can never have enough books.'

"He thinks it was a miracle," Bucky said flatly. "Said you visited," Bucky bit out loud.

When she said nothing, he snapped, "Anna."

Bucky stared at her. His jaw tightened. "It fucking makes sense why you looked off that day. You know the price of using your gift."

"She was dying, Buck," She said quietly, not turning around. "I couldn't walk away."

"And what about…you?" His voice dropped lower. "What happens when someone gets a whiff?" He gritted out.

She looked at him. The shadow above him from the kitchen light cut sharp lines across his face, making him look like a sculpted god. Albeit an angry-looking god.

"She was suffering." She said, moving her gaze onto the foggy kitchen window.

"That doesn't matter," he growled.

Bucky stepped forward, his right hand finding her elbow as he tugged her toward him. She didn't resist.

"Look at me." Bucky gritted out, frustration marring his features.

Her gaze rose slowly to meet his, guilty.

"What were you thinking?" he asked sharply. She could see the pain in him.

"I was thinking she would've died."

"And I'm thinking I can't lose you too," he thundered, like the sky outside. His arm slipped around her back, his grip tightening as he pulled her closer.

She wanted to argue. She wanted to remind him that she was strong, more than human. That she'd lived in the harsh world alone for decades, that she went into the clutches of Hydra's lair to find him, that she wasn't the one people should be afraid of. But her mother's words rang loudly in her head, 'Sweetheart, sometimes what makes you powerful is exactly what makes you vulnerable…hunted.'

Her shoulders dropped. She felt utterly helpless. She couldn't see people suffer. She carried a lot of regrets herself. The fact that she didn't find Bucky soon enough after he fell off the train, the fact that she should've stopped Steve from getting the serum. If Steve hadn't, he would not have sacrificed his life. So, she couldn't help but alleviate Mr. and Mrs. Hagen's suffering.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, burying her face into his chest.

He sighed into her hair, kissing her tenderly.

"I need you to resist helping people," he pleaded.

"I don't know how Buck," she whispered, holding him tightly.

Bucky dreaded love more than he ever feared Hydra. While he mourned the love he had lost--Steve--he also mourned not being the kind of man she deserved.  

The way she saved him persistently, and resurrected him after Hydra, with years and years of patience. It was beyond his understanding. Gosh! She could totally beat Steve when it came to being stubborn.

He watched her, relaxed in his arms, deep in sleep. His little angel! Sometimes, it was hard to believe that she was by his side. His fingers traced her cheek, and she leaned into his touch.

He knew he was a selfish man because he'd never said he loved her out loud, afraid he'd cause an imbalance in the perfect ecosystem. Because he knew she loved him. And even if she never explicitly worded her love, she defined it in every little action. It pained him how deeply she loved him despite what he'd done.

In the late hours of the night, when he curled up beside her--nightmares as an excuse--he'd usually think of a better tomorrow. One where he'd repented the doings of a man in his mind who he'd been unwillingly sharing space with. Where he could love her the way she deserved. Where Steve was still alive, and they all lived in a world where freedom wouldn't be weighed by norms.

But fate couldn't be that forgiving, right?

Bucky still hoped and prayed for forgiveness--for the actions he had unwittingly committed. He tried to be a better man every day.

Bucky was protective of her--territorial might befit. But the fact was, she protected him every day. From himself. From his nightmares. She was his salvation.

She shifted, turning more into his side, still deep asleep, slipping her hand around his waist. Bucky chuckled softly, clutching the oversized T-shirt on the little of her back, and pulled her closer.

God! She was divine. So far out of his league. Did she even know that?

He could literally kill for her. And he was close to committing that heinous act that very evening.

He'd gone to the bookstore to buy the book she'd been waiting for, only to overhear Hagen talking about her and 'miracle' in the same breath. The fear hit him instantly. For a moment, he stood frozen, staring at the wrinkled man. A sinister thought crawled into his mind: kill Hagen and his wife. Make it look like a robbery.

Then, Bucky thought of her and felt utterly disgusted with himself for even thinking of it. He wasn't that person, and he'd never be him again. He fled from there as fast as he could, terrified of himself.

He wondered if he could ever truly be the man she deserved. He highly doubted it. But the fact was, he couldn't let her go. He'd already lost Steve. He couldn't fathom losing her, too.

Bucky loved her. With every tiny, broken piece of himself--he loved her.

He moved closer, admiring her peaceful face and enveloping himself in her intoxicating scent.

She looked so goddamn delicate. So mesmerizingly pretty.

She'd be up in a few hours. She hadn't eaten because he hadn't.

And he'd been a fucking prick all evening. She'd even baked him his favorite cake, but he'd been too cooped up in his head, too angry at her for being so reckless. Didn't she understand he couldn't live without her?

He leaned in and placed a small kiss on her forehead.

He'd make her favorite breakfast and apologize. Maybe she'd kiss him on the cheek like she had yesterday. That little kiss where she'd rise on her toes and tug him down gently always made him feel alive.

Next:

The phone rang three times before it was picked up. "Pepper Potts speaking." "Hi... um, hi, Pepper. This is Lienna Nightingale," she said, her voice a little shaky, "I need to cash in that favor."

If you wanna be tagged in my works, add yourself here. <3

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Thank you 🤭🩷 Hope you enjoy 😏😉🥰🫂

10) finding their partner’s sex toy/toys and making them play with it in front of them

for bucky x reader PLZZZ

love, @flowersforbucky

Confessions of Mr. Grumpaholic

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader A/N: Initially, I started this for Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration, but the Ask also inspired me to tune it to Smutty September Fest. Thanks to @bigtreefest it's a part of both the events now! <3 Yay! My first installment to the Smut Fest. I hope you like it @flowersforbucky Thank you so much for sending the ask, Cait. Sorry for the super tiny fic ;) In all seriousness though, read at your comfort. I've also divided it into three parts for your convenience. This is a looooong one. I think I've outdone myself on the word count. Word Count: 16k (Oops) Warnings: Mature Content, Minors DNI, Allusions to sex, Masturbation, Overloaded fluff, Sassy Bucky, Slight Pining trope, Panic attack, Smidge of angst, Super happy happy ending, Steve doesn't gray his hair post endgame, Steve is a little shit too, lemme know if I'm missing anything. Note: Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner credits to me and the photo credits to the internet. Check out my other works: Masterlist Read Ablaze, Epilogue to this story!

Indulge Away!

****

Cherish the chance encounters, for you never know which one will be the beginning of your forever.

Meeting Bucky was disorienting. Nick Fury had assigned you to help Bucky after the government pardoned him. There was a catch, though; he needed to attend a few mandated therapy sessions and yada yada. You were part of that yada yada, a support system on paper until the government knew Bucky was safe to be in society. As a part of court-mandated therapy, you were given certain privileges that you never asked for, like visits to his therapist.

Not that you were someone extraordinary, you were merely one of the obvious choices for the task.

Recovering from the injuries from a mission and not being assigned to any other missions until you healed, Fury coaxed you into helping Bucky out because the government needed someone enlisted who was not Steve Rogers or the high league posse.

When you'd think about it, it was utterly puerile to appoint you. You would have kicked the bucket if the Winter Soldier got unleashed.

The term Fury used was 'handler.' You hated it. Bucky loathed it. And boy, did he show his contempt, incessantly so.

For the first few days, Bucky stymied every effort you attempted to make the process smooth. Tracking him down was a nightmare. Despite being an agent yourself, it was impressive how such a six-foot tall, beefy man could be as stealthy as he was; one second, you'd see him, and the next, he'd be gone, but again, he was the Winter Soldier. Former Winter Soldier.

You didn't accept defeat, though, because, with your broken arm in a sling, you really had no better things to do except play 'chase the assassin' as a pastime.

It may have been two weeks of you chasing him, but he eventually yielded. You wondered when he started pitying you because he let you catch him.

After three meetings with Dr. Raynor, Bucky's therapist, you realized she was a mean and passive-aggressive lady, according to you, of course, and you kept your opinions to yourself.

On one such visit, Dr. Raynor walked out to the waiting area, still talking to Bucky as they came out of a session, 'You gotta explore, James. Do normal things.' Dr. Raynor stated, handing you the list.

Bucky stood at the far end of the room. You had rolled your eyes not so subtly when you went through the list, reading through the suggested places she had mentioned. She even told you how important it was to substantiate the visit with a photo.

You remember that slight tilt of his lips vividly to this day when Bucky caught your gaze. Maybe that did crack those rigid walls he built to keep you out, or perhaps it was after that when you sat in the cold outside his apartment and waited for him so you could take him to the list of places Dr. Raynor had given him as a task.

"Next time, maybe forgo the coat; you'll freeze up quickly if that's what you were going for," Bucky's rough voice broke the sleepy delirium that evening.

He was crouching before you, an unmistakable frown marring his features from underneath his cap.

You snuggled into the warm blanket wrapped around you and picked up the dixie cup filled with hot coffee that he placed beside you on the steps that you made temporary abode in the cold.

It was chillier than usual with a foreboding winter storm on the way, and you were a bit high on Hydrocodone, the painkiller that you were taking for your broken arm. So, you had no idea when you fell asleep. You looked up at him, letting out a tired chuckle, grateful for his thoughtfulness of not letting you freeze to death.

"Next time, maybe stick to the plan," you grumbled, sipping into the coffee instead of thanking him. After all, it was his fault.

~

It had been a long journey since then. Things with Bucky were less turbulent. He listened to you; it was very enlivening for a change. He would make subtle remarks at your expense, too.

Sticking to the task at hand and following Dr. Raynor's orders, you accompanied Bucky to Ellis Island. You both walked through the crowds, surrounded by tourists and the distant murmur of ferry horns. It was a pleasant day; the sun descended, casting beautiful hues in the sky. You had navigated the crowd for nearly an hour, and while Bucky tried to keep his focus, you felt the sudden shift in him. He visibly tensed up beside you, and you could see the pressure mounting in his expression as he rapidly looked around, breathing unevenly.

"Bucky," you looked at him, keeping aside your worry. "We can leave if you want to." Bucky nodded, but his eyes kept darting around. His breaths became shallower.

You noticed the slight tremor in his hands and reached out, maintaining a calm and steady tone, "Bucky, hey, look at me."

But he couldn't, and you felt like he was drowning in his mind. His breathing grew more ragged.

You took your hand over his clutched fist, rubbing gently, and he loosened the grip, and you could feel the clammy, icy hand engulf yours.

You had moved closer to him. "Bucky, I need you to breathe with me, okay? Just focus on me," you said gently, hoping your voice anchored him back, and he blinked, trying to focus on your face. You helped him through a few sensory techniques you were aware of.

"You're okay. You're safe, Bucky," you told him repeatedly.

Bucky followed your lead, slowly regaining control of his breath, though the tension in his body lingered. You didn't rush him; you stayed close, blocking out the rest of the world, shielding him from the crowd. Once his breathing steadied, you gave him a soft smile, squeezing his arm.

"Let's get out of here, yeah? We can go somewhere quiet." You whispered gently.

Bucky nodded, unable to speak, but the relief was evident in his eyes. You had led him away from the bustling crowd, navigating through the ferry terminal and back onto the city streets, where the noise was less overwhelming. You walked silently, Bucky's hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders tense, while you kept close, matching his pace without a word.

After a while, you found a secluded spot near Battery Park, away from the main paths. The area was quieter, with fewer people and the soft sound of the river lapping against the shore. The sky had darkened with cloud cover, engulfing in a bleak yet serene bubble.

You settled onto a low wall overlooking the water, the cool breeze calming. You hoped it soothed Bucky, too.

Sitting there beside the tall man, your perception of him changed. Initially, you'd felt pity for Bucky Barnes, but at that moment, you realized how inhuman you were being. He was mind-controlled for years. Years. You could probably never even come close to comprehending the extent of how he felt.

You decided to stop working with him as a task and instead start working with what's best for him, even if you have to go against the ways of Dr. Raynor. You had to up your game. Maybe you'd never be Steve Rogers for Bucky, but you could come close to being a friend.

You slipped away briefly, giving him the space to compose after the panic attack and an opportunity to leave if he wanted to; you bought him your favorite milkshake and falafel from the nearby food truck.

When you returned with the food, Bucky was still there. He didn't attempt to move to take his food, so you handed Bucky the milkshake without a word, letting him take the lead. Bucky stared at the food for a moment, his jaw tight, but after a beat, he accepted the shake, taking a slow sip.

The familiar, comforting taste must have brought a faint smile to his lips. And seeing him smile made you grin like a fool. You settled beside him, eating in silence.

You sat there for hours, until it was dark.

It was quiet, just the two of you, with nothing but the sounds of the distant city and the occasional lapping of water against the rocks. You could feel the tension in his chest slowly start to ease. You finished the food in companionable silence, the kind that didn't need to be filled with words.

As you started walking back along the quiet sidewalk, you stumbled over a raised edge, your foot catching awkwardly on the pavement. You let out a surprised yelp and flailed with your one functioning hand to regain your balance. Bucky reached out swiftly, steadying you with a chuckle.

"Hey, it's dark! And that sidewalk definitely moved." You mumbled. Bucky let out a rarely-heard laugh. The tension of the evening seemed to melt away.

"Yeah, sure. We'll blame the sidewalk." He muttered. Though embarrassed by your clumsiness, you couldn't help but feel glad.

Things gradually changed after that point.

He insisted on walking you home that night.

"It's totally fine, Barnes. I can walk home alone," You had said firmly. It was hilarious how you denied him walking you home when you wanted him to be okay with you loitering around him, babysitting. If that thought crossed his mind, he was gentleman enough to keep it to himself.

"Oh, you're fine? Great. I'll be there just in case," he retorted, casually leaning against the light pole and shrugging his shoulder.

It was then you realized Bucky Barnes was a cheeky little shit filled with sass. It was also when you realized he was ruggedly handsome, and he didn't even have to try hard. Not letting thoughts go astray on his gorgeousness, you sighed in defeat.

"Ugh," you grumbled.

You had kept the conversation running for both because Bucky was not much of a talker. That walk felt borderline romantic despite knowing he walked you home in danger you would trip yourself again or get mugged. You told him how you loved baking, reading, and a few other silly details of your life. He listened, maybe tuned you out a bit, but you liked to think he listened to your constant blabber.

~

You started connecting with him gradually, poking fun at his expense, unaffected by his constant grumpiness. You knew you didn't take teasing too far, being careful not to trigger him in any way consciously.

Then came his birthday. It was a clear occasion to show him you considered him more than just a mission. So, you decided to surprise him with a birthday cake, a box of confectionaries with some gifts, and a silly little birthday balloon and knocked on his apartment.

When you brought him cake and gifts, you had only thought of dropping by his front door if he didn't open the door. But he did open the door, standing in his joggers and tiny blue shirt that fit him perfectly, looking shocked at you like you were an alien.

You caught a glimpse of his pillow on the floor, and your heart tugged at that. You guessed he had trouble sleeping, but this just confirmed it. Bucky didn't invite you into his apartment, and you didn't try asking either, knowing it was his safe space.

Clearing your throat, you intended to wish him Happy Birthday, but you muttered, "It's your birthday, Barnes," with a stupid grin.

"Why do you know my birthday?" He demanded with narrowed eyes.

"Uh... it's displayed in the Smithsonian, and I just am good with dates, Bucky," you scoffed, not disclosing to him the fact that you read the 97-page file Fury handed you about him. And Merlin's Beard! It was astronomically far from a light read.

Bucky let out an exasperated breath and looked down at the deserted hallway. The shock soon converted to a steady frown, a familiar expression you were used to for which you rolled your eyes as he folded his hands to his chest, looking at you like you just poisoned his food right under his nose. You tried to hand him the cake and the gifts, but he didn't budge.

When you warned him that you'd sing Happy Birthday embarrassingly loud if he didn't take the gifts, he conceded with a huge frown and a grunt. It was the first time you realized Bucky had a car because, up until then, you thought his mode of transportation mainly was riding a bike or Floo powder; after all, he seemed to appear and disappear into thin air randomly. He drove you home that night, irked by the fact you took a taxi at that hour.

You took that as a win, although a bit envious that you missed his reaction when he opened the gift wrapper and found the gag gift you snuck in: the bright pink kitty key holder. Surely, he must have shunned that into the bin quite as fast, but you hoped he liked the leather jacket you got him. The next day, he wore it, and all things holy, he looked so hot in it, and your eyes nearly popped off their socket. He didn't acknowledge it, nor did you; you felt exhilarated despite that.

~

When you sought shelter at a small bookshop because it was pouring outside and you forgot your umbrella, you realized that Bucky shared your interest in reading. You sat there for hours discussing tons of books and theories. It was the most Bucky talked to you since you first met. You would share your books and, sometimes, your latest cooking repertoire with him, and you liked to think he started enjoying your shared time, which was most of the time every day.

Soon, Bucky started adapting to things. He was sent on small missions, led some missions, and even asked to oversee recruit training. You met his friends, the Avengers cohort. They were an odd bunch just like you but with a shit ton more skills, and you liked them.

You met Captain Rogers more often, 'Call me Steve,' he would say rather stubbornly, and you kept calling him Captain Rogers. Sam Wilson became a regular in your meetings, too. Bucky seemed to like that you annoyed his friends.

As per the task at hand, you were quickly becoming insignificant alongside him: so, no more roaming around in the pretense of Dr. Raynor's list, no more photoshopping Bucky in all the busy crowded, touristy spots of New York City to substantiate--a hobby you were too proud about and Bucky, though secretly grateful for your photo editing skills, still frowned at you--and no more hanging out with Bucky in general because it was not like he chose to hang out with you. You were thrust into his life by the requirement of the government.

One warm evening, Fury called to confirm your thoughts. You were officially off babysitting Barnes. Bucky was clear. You felt exuberant for him. You didn't have the guts to say goodbye to Bucky, so you texted him with a few cat gifs wishing him congratulations. He left you on read for two days. Then, he texted you a 'Thanks.' It was hilarious how excited you got to read his text.

A week passed, and you slowly retreated into your life, focusing more on catching up on your life and other household stuff that you otherwise ignored due to lack of time. You remember that it was a week filled with so much binge-watching. You caught up on The Great British Baking Show's latest season and a ton of cheesy old movies you watched as guilty pleasure that your eyes almost started hurting. It was a pretty unhealthy week for your body but a needed week for your mind.

Your hand was out of the cast, and you had PT left. The day you were set to go to physio, Bucky was waiting outside your apartment. You looked taken aback. He was in his jeans and a pale blue t-shirt with a jacket, looking handsome. He was no more hiding his face underneath caps, and the bright sunny day reflected his cerulean blues, and your breath hitched looking at him. You sighed, clearing your thoughts.

"What are you doing here?" you asked him. He shrugged, opening the car door for you to sit.

"Bucky, that's not needed. I can go alone just fine," you told him.

His expression was unreadable, but a familiar stubbornness in his eyes made you pause.

He leaned onto the car, clutching the door open. "Thought I'd tag along. Figured you might want some company." Bucky shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

It wasn't an offer. He wasn't giving you the option to refuse, not because he was overbearing, but because he knew you'd probably never ask for the company outright. You stared at him momentarily, surprised but touched, and finally conceded, sliding into the passenger seat.

"Okay, but don't blame me if you get bored out of your mind," you told him.

He didn't retort and handed you a coffee and croissant wordlessly, and it filled your heart with warmth. "Thank you, Bucky."

You were out of your depth as to how you could confront him, but Bucky seemed to be everywhere.

Everywhere.

As you had to go to physical therapy more, Bucky accompanied you regularly. Though it itched you to ask him how he knew your schedule, you never asked him, fearing he would stop hanging out with you. And in those moments, you told yourself he was not just a regular guy but an Avenger/ex-Winter Soldier.

You checked in at the front desk, glancing over your shoulder to see Bucky already settled into one of the waiting room chairs, flipping through an old, dog-eared magazine. Occasionally, he'd swipe at his phone, deeply engrossed in a game of Fruit Ninja, the faint sounds of slashing fruit and upbeat game music filtering through the air. You wondered if he played it for the sound of knife slashing; you indeed played just for that.

You moved to the exercise room, where your therapist guided you through stretches and strengthening exercises, pushing just to the point of discomfort. Every so often, you'd glance back toward the waiting area and see Bucky still there, his presence grounding you in a way you hadn't expected. He never looked impatient, didn't check his watch, or fidgeted like he wanted to leave. It was as if he had nowhere else he'd rather be, and that made your tummy flutter.

Troy, one of the guys who worked at the center, had been closely monitoring you since your first visit. He was nice, with a charming smile and an easygoing demeanor that made him popular with nearly everyone who came in. You'd noticed how his eyes lingered a little too long when you walked in, how he'd always find a reason to come over during your sessions, adjusting your form with a light touch or cracking jokes to make you laugh.

Today was no different. As you finished a harrowing stretch, Troy wandered over, his smile bright and confident.

He leaned against the nearby equipment, casually tossing a towel over his shoulder. "You're really getting the hang of this. Won't be long before you're back to one hundred percent."

"Thanks," you smiled.

Troy grinned, leaning in slightly. "You know, maybe we could celebrate once you're fully healed. I know this great little café by the waterfront. Best coffee in town."

It was an almost-invitation, a clear hint that he was interested, and you'd noticed these subtle gestures from him before—lingering compliments, casual touches, and comments that hinted at something more than just professional interest. But today, as you glanced over your shoulder, you saw Bucky still sitting there, his attention momentarily shifted from his phone to the scene unfolding. His presence was imposing calm, yet undeniably watchful, even from across the room.

Bucky's eyes met Troy's briefly, calm but unwavering. It wasn't a glare, but something about Bucky's demeanor seemed to set Troy on edge. Troy hesitated, his previous confidence faltering as he glanced back at Bucky, then at you.

Troy cleared his throat, his smile slightly strained. "But, you know, no rush. Whenever you're ready."

You nodded, keeping your tone light but non-committal. "Thanks, Troy. I'll think about it."

As he walked away, you couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and awkwardness. Troy was nice, attractive, and charming, but you weren't eager to encourage something that wasn't there for you. And Bucky's presence only made that realization sharper. You didn't have the energy to navigate flirtations or the complications that came with them. Not when Bucky was around.

When your session ended, you grabbed your things and joined Bucky, who looked up from his game with a lazy smile. His countenance slightly surprised you.

Bucky, his tone teasing but with an edge of curiosity, remarked, "Looks like you've got an admirer."

You rolled your eyes, "Troy's just being nice. Besides, I think he's a little scared of you."

Bucky chuckled, standing up and stretching confidently, "Me? I'm harmless."

You glanced up at him, your heart flipping at how his eyes softened as they met yours. "Sure, Barnes. You're about as harmless as a loaded gun."

He smirked but didn't deny it, and together, you made your way out of the center.

Truthfully, having a friend felt good. You got friends, but they were mostly from your job, and you never felt close to them. With Bucky, the friendship felt intimate--meeting him always felt warm and fuzzy.

Now and then, you wondered if Bucky saw this as friendship: he was comfortable with only a few people, and perhaps, despite any say in the matter, you were one of them. It didn't bother you. You liked the bond you shared with him. It was sweet borderline diabetic, too. You hung out almost every day except when he was off on missions.

When you went to Spencer's one day, you found another silly thing for him. A bright band that said, therapy buddy. It cracked you up so much you had to buy it for him.

"Seriously?" He exclaimed, rolling his eyes, frowning at you, and shoved it into his pocket. At least he didn't chuck it in a bin. He told you how insufferable Dr. Raynor was being.

Your friendship--what you liked to call it--stayed consistent for a few months. Bucky, too, started accepting you. He now talked more than one word or phrase and made jokes at your expense vehemently. They were subtle and sharp but made you smile, and your heart fluttered just a bit.

~

Things were settling down for him, and for you, not so much. The weight of the truth bludgeoned you when you went to Wilmington with Bucky. Bucky had a mission and the details you were not privy to. He had been going around 'making amends,' as he called them.

Never been to the coastal town, you asked if you could join him, and he not so reluctantly let you. It was a six-hour long drive, and it was beautiful. You did most of the talking, telling about your family, high school, college, and everything he never asked about. He dropped you off at the town and told you he would join you later.

It was one of those perfect evenings where the sky looked like a canvas of soft pinks, purples, and oranges painted by the sun's final rays.

Ambling around the tiny shops on the River Walk, you shopped for some chocolate and a few fragrant soaps you knew you'd never use, and Bucky joined you there just before sunset.

You both sat on the small wooden high stools, facing the water and watching the hues jutting out over the calm waters of the Cape Fear River. You shared a pizza that was a little too greasy and absolutely perfect.

"I don't think this is quite up to your 1940s pizza standards, but hey, times have changed," you teased him.

Bucky took a bite, chewing thoughtfully before shrugging. "You kidding? This is an upgrade. I could get used to this whole modern world thing." He said with a slight tilt of his lips.

That statement carried so much weight, showing how far he had come. Bucky was a better human being than most, compassionate even with that grumpiness. For him to be a nice person, despite being through some dark shit, it was applause-worthy in your opinion.

The wind carried the faint scent of saltwater, and the water splashed gently against the wooden columns underneath. You leaned onto railings, legs dangling over the edge. There was a soft breeze coming off the river, the kind that was just enough to ruffle hair and carry the sounds of the water lapping at the posts. The sun had just set, leaving behind a brilliant watercolor sky reflected on the ripples below. It was calm and perfect, and you felt suspended in time beautifully.

Bucky reached into the bag of sweet treats you'd picked up from a local bakery, pulling out a couple of chocolate-covered cannoli; you took a huge bite, smearing chocolate on your nose and mouth.

"You're such a messy eater," he laughed softly, pulling out a couple of tissues. You snatched them from him and wiped your face vigorously. You looked at him with narrowed eyes when he scrunched his face in a grin.

"Good thing you're cute," he chuckled, barely audible, but you heard it. A slight blush covered your cheeks, but thankfully, he looked away.

You watched him as he looked out over the water, his profile softened by the fading light, a serene expression you rarely saw on him. Bucky looked so at peace; the tension that usually sat on his shoulders was gone, replaced with something lighter and freer. He leaned front on his elbows, resting them on the railing, the sunset's glow highlighting the lines of his sharp jaw, and the way his lips curled in a half-smile made a jolt of warmth spread through you.

Though your mind ran with thousands of thoughts, you sat in comfortable silence; the only sounds were the occasional trilling of the birds and the distant hum of a boat motor. You realized how rare it was to see Bucky so relaxed, just being there in the moment, and you found yourself studying him more--how his eyes softened when he looked at the sky, the way his hair caught the last bit of daylight, and the ease of his laughter that you had grown to love.

And that was when it hit you, like a sudden and unrelenting wave crashing against the shore. You were in love with him, the way the feeling wrapped around your heart and squeezed tight. It shook you to the core, this realization that Bucky Barnes wasn't just a mission, a friend, or your favorite person to argue with; he was everything. And sitting there, with Bucky beside you, his knee casually touching yours, the breeze whispering through his hair, there was no denying it anymore.

You turned your gaze back to the horizon, trying to hide the slight tremble in your hands as you drummed your fingers on the railing. The vibrant hues of the sunset mirrored the whirlpool of emotions inside you--beautiful but overwhelming. More inclining towards overwhelming because James Bucky Barnes couldn't possibly feel anything towards you.

And it terrified you to no end.

After that, it was a downward spiral for you. Every little thing about Bucky became hyper-focused. You started noticing little things he did for you, like how he hovered his hand on your back when in the crowd, how he deliberately stepped around on the side of the road if you were walking on the sidewalk, how he opened doors, how he walked you to your apartment and tagged around you for general work, how he met your eyes and gestured or conveyed little things without as much as opening his mouth. It was sheer torture.

~

Then December came along. You had gone home for Thanksgiving and came more relaxed and carrying a lot of food. You needed that time to get your bearings straight. Since your parents were going to Australia to visit your brother for Christmas, you would be home alone for Christmas. 

One cold December morning, Bucky knocked on your door. You were both attending the book festival you told him about a few months ago. It had been almost a week since you last saw him. It took you a hot minute to recognize him through the peephole. He looked so entirely different; you stood shocked. He cut his hair short, and boy, it suited him so much. He looked like a male model who just walked down the ramp. Drop dead gorgeous.

You were taken aback, rushing to your tiny kitchen as you gulped down some water to calm your nerves and heated cheeks. You greeted him with a practiced smile when you opened the door and gestured to his hair. He shrugged with a bloody grin, and you felt your heart skyrocket.

You blamed the cold weather for your blushing cheeks for the rest of the day.

You often invited Bucky to your general outings. His therapy sessions were sporadic, what with Dr. Raynor's holiday schedule. Bucky seemed more peaceful because of it.

When Captain America invited you to the Christmas Eve party, you denied it. But you were almost bullied into attending. So, you did and bought everyone gifts, hoping they'd like them. The party was intimate; only a few joined, and you had much fun.

On Christmas morning Bucky came by your home, shocking you out of your wits as he gave you a beautiful pendant, which you wore every damn day. It probably was an obligatory gesture because you loved gifting things and you didn't want him to feel pressured into giving you things. Though you felt more than happy by his gesture, you told him clearly he didn't have to.

You were really juicing up the time Bucky and you shared; somewhere deep in your rational mind, you feared you would soon become too insignificant in his magnificent life. So, you cherished as much of the time as you got with him because it was bound to end eventually anyway. Right?

You asked him if he wanted to hang out and watch some old movies one evening. He told you he was tired and wanted to sleep. You respected that and walked around the city; Christmas in New York was otherworldly.

Deciding to do everything cheesy, you walked around the square, sipping hot chocolate, and that's when you spotted Bucky, accompanied by Steve, Sam, and Nat.

You felt a tug at your heart and it pained you because he lied instead of telling you he had other plans.

You escaped from there, not wanting to run into them.

It took a mere few steps walking down the block for your insecurities to catch up. You started feeling guilty and absolutely horrified by your overbearing nature. So, you had returned home with a ton of candy, a few doughnuts, and binge-watched movies alternating from cheesy Christmas movies to psycho thrillers. It eased your aching heart.

Much later, it gave you some perspective that you were enforcing your personal affections on him when he must have expected a trusting acquaintance.

Becoming reserved with fear of heartbreak, you avoided him for a bit, and that didn't mostly go according to your plan because he sought you out if you didn't respond to his one-phrase texts. Wherever you were, he'd appear out of nowhere as if you conjured him up.

Bucky Barnes was causing you trouble, viciously grabbing your senses, and you realized you were teetering to the edge of no return. Maybe you did cross that edge and fell deep. If not for that, there was no good reason why you were standing in your simple tracks and a t-shirt, with your backpack hung on one shoulder in the sea of glittering fancy crowd to give him his birthday present.

~~~~~

Funny how you delude yourself just by knowing half-truths

It was strange how times changed, indeed.

Fourteen months ago, you were apprehensive about working with James Buchanan Barnes. Yet here you were, battered and a bit bruised, dragging yourself in the vibrant sea of the hustle and bustle of the lounging area, carrying the present you wanted to give him for his birthday tomorrow instead of being halfway to your home and taking care of those minor bruises.

Your reasons were simple. You knew Bucky had a mission in a couple of days and wanted to give his gift before he left, wondering when he would return. Also, you put a lot of work into acquiring the gift, and you were excited for him to open it. So, when you came back from the mission, you headed straight to the party after Sam had told you where Bucky was without a thought in mind.

Though the party was not for his birthday per se, it was a charity gala night, conveniently scheduled for today just in time for Bucky's birthday. You could guess it had to do something with Captain Rogers and others getting involved.

"Didn't know it was a costume party," you heard the familiar voice and turned around to see Maria Hill, dressed perfectly in a short black dress.

Unfortunately, Bucky Barnes meant enough for you to be this excited to give him his gift, looking like roadkill. You laughed gently.

Shit, your back hurt!

"You look gorgeous," you complimented, and she winked at you, not missing the way you winced.

"I know, but what are you doing here? Thought you'd be resting your ass up after the mission," she said, her gaze scrutinizing.

"Just heading home...wanted to say hi," you stated lamely, fiddling with the backpack straps hanging by your sides.

"Leave you to it then," she walked away, leaving you to shuffle around. It was unlike Bucky to be at a party. He detested these things, and you were quite aware, but perhaps he was convinced, warned, or bullied into attending. In your opinion, it was good for him to socialize.

The party was lavish, and you really looked very out of place. Needing to get out of there as soon as possible, your hurried gaze settled on the one person you were here for, Bucky, the grumpy Barnes.

As soon as you felt the involuntary smile appear on you, it disappeared quicker than that. A gorgeous girl in a long blue dress was talking to Bucky animatedly, leaning closer to him, and the worst thing was that he was smiling, too. The dirty insecurities you locked up in the corner of your mind swam to the forefront.

Imagination is the worst enemy sometimes because it knows your dirty secrets and plays the field like a champ.

You were not one to feel terrible about yourself; you were pretty confident, too. But lately, things had been messed up in the upstairs department thanks to the feelings you festered for a blue-eyed man, which you were pretty sure was one-sided.

~

"Why are you frowning?" Bucky's voice startled you from behind.

Fuck! When did he walk all across from there and creep behind you. Were you staring at her that long?

"I'm not." You defended, turning around to face him. He wore a beautiful black jacket, and his metal arm glinted underneath the expensive golden ambiance. He looked rugged, the slight confusion drawing your eyes to his beautiful blues. He was breathtakingly gorgeous and hot. He looked you up and down slowly and then held your gaze, it spread heat over your face so quickly that it was quite embarrassing.

"Why are you all dolled up?" He asked, his head tilted to the side, with a gentle twinkle in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes dramatically.

Fortunately--unfortunately--the same pretty girl interrupted his teasing, and you mentally groaned but gave her a gentle smile. She smiled at you, introducing herself. She was sweet; they'd make a good pair, and maybe she'd be good for him, your rational mind offered, but your heart clenched at your thoughts.

So, you were glad your phone rang at that point despite it being a spam commercial. You didn't give Bucky or the girl another chance to talk as you rushed out of there, mumbling, 'I gotta take this,' with a good fake smile.

When you found an empty couch in the lobby, you collapsed into it unceremoniously, overcome by your emotions. You took a few deep breaths and pulled the gift-wrapped book from your bag. Looking up at you, the dark gift wrapper with the golden pattern seemed to mock you.

When shopping at Target last week, you realized the gift cover resembled something similar to his Vibranium arm. You all but squealed as you picked it. The scribbles on the neatly folded card have been edited more than you could count. Ugh!

You felt pathetic. If Bucky figured the lengths you'd gone to get that gift, he would cringe, probably get scared, and most likely never talk to you. Objectively, that sounded good, but your heart tugged with unease.

This was such a fucking bad idea.

Maybe you could give it to Bucky anonymously and leave it somewhere for him to find. That prospect sounded good. With that resolve, you decided to move away from the couch and slip out of the room unnoticed, but the damn timing of Sam Wilson almost made you bitchcry.

"Hey, there. Where have you been? We've been looking for you for so long." He said, settling beside you.

"Hey, Sam," you smiled, not very enthusiastically.

"Why the long face? Mission was that bad?" He asked. You shrugged. His gaze shifted to the gift in your hand.

"Oh, the gift, what did you get him? Honestly, I should take the gift. He's got about more than eight phone numbers already." Sam spoke curiously, looking at the gift, entirely unaware he was just adding fuel to your agony.

Yep, the gift was a bad bad decision.

You wondered if Bucky would turn up his charm and start dating the pretty girl in the blue dress. Knowing your one-sided love story lacked any buttress was one thing, but the minute plausibility of Bucky Barnes dating someone was heart-wrenchingly painful.

You shrugged, giving Sam the same fake smile you'd been mastering.

Now that Sam saw the gift, you had to turn it in. "I'm super tired, and my bed is calling me. Give him this, will you?" You hand him the gift. Sam looked confused, wanting to say something, but you left hurriedly without another word.

In retrospect, you contemplated the gift as you drove to your apartment; it didn't have to be as important as you were giving value to it. You could shrug and tell Bucky it was just a book you found in one of those random shops. And that thought process gave you the semblance of control, even momentarily.

~

When Sienna or Sierra--the woman's name he entirely missed--tried to get his attention, Bucky sighed in displeasure, rubbing his face with his metal arm, hoping that would be enough for her to leave him alone. She'd been telling him about the rooftop Italian restaurant for about five minutes straight ever since he nodded at her politely when he mistakenly stood by her table, not knowing it was occupied.

Steve was suddenly called out on some mission, and Bucky would have gone, but he wanted to stay back. He didn't tell Steve why, but he bet Steve understood when he gave Bucky a shit-eating grin. Stupid punk.

And Sam was annoying Bucky, so much so that Bucky asked him to fuck off, and Sam had listened to him maybe for the first time ever, and now he was fucking bored out of his mind. He was itching to go to the hangar knowing that you were back from the mission, as he was constantly checking with Agent Ryan, the one in charge of your mission, for updates.

But when he saw you near the lobby, Bucky's breath hitched. You were gone for three days. It'd been three days too long since he saw you. Three insanely long days to bear.

You hadn't noticed him yet, and Bucky took his time scanning to see if you were injured. However, he had already checked if there had been any injuries with Agent Ryan, and thankfully you were fine.

Trouble, yeah, that's what you were to him. How you managed to look so fucking pretty in that plain t-shirt and pants was beyond him. Bucky was in it too deep. He waited a minute too long, hoping stupidly that you were here for him. When he noticed you staring in his general direction, but with a frown, he excused himself, desperately wanting to know what happened. Were you hurt somewhere and did not report?

When he walked closer, he realized your frown only deepened, but you were unaware of his presence. Something was wrong with you, and you were not telling. You had been acting that way for some time now, shutting him off. Bucky abhorred feeling that way.

When he followed you out, you were already gone without a goodbye. He felt his throat tighten in anticipation. Were you tired, or was it something else? Bucky stood confused and slightly terrified. He wondered if you realized what he was up to, that he was keeping tabs on you. Did Ryan tell you about his talk? No, Ryan wouldn't do that.

Sam caught him halfway through, grinning wildly with a gift in his hands. Bucky rolled his eyes, not wanting to interact with him but needing to follow you.

"Not now, Sam," Bucky said, rushing out, irritated at being unable to run. It would startle people, and he didn't want that kind of attention or fear in the people. Some were still edgy, like anticipating he would lose control and become the winter soldier. It pained him to no end.

"Okay then, I'm gonna keep this gift y/n wanted to give you," Sam chuckled.

Bucky stopped in his tracks. You brought him a gift. Of course you did. His heart thumped wildly as he turned, hoping that his face didn't give away too much because God knows Sam will figure it out and Steve would inadvertently know, and man, he couldn't handle two of them beating his ass to ask you out.

"I told her I should keep the gift. You got so many numbers anyway," Sam chuckled, handing him the neatly wrapped gift.

His heart tugged at that. Why did Sam say that to you? He wasn't even interested in any of them, and more importantly, it was Sam who had pulled the phone out of his hands and given it to those women to enter their numbers. He had deleted them right after, frowning at Sam as soon as they left. Did Sam reveal that part to you?

Bucky was livid, and he wanted to give Sam a piece of his mind.

He was not really proud that sometimes Bucky wanted to see if you got jealous because, sure as hell, his blood boiled if someone as much came close to you. But he never tested his theory. It was hilarious to think that you could ever get jealous. To Bucky, you were the most beautiful person. You could walk out in rags, and his eyes would still gravitate to you. You were literally his grounding point, and he was so fucking in love, it would probably scare you if you ever came to realize.

"I'm tired," Bucky bid bye to Sam despite wanting to ask or beat it out of Sam what all you talked about, but he focused his attention on the gift in hand, eager to open it.

"Everyone's tired," Sam complained from behind. He didn't respond as he felt the insides of the gift.

He wondered if you got him another silly gift. He didn't mind if it was either. The bright pink keychain holder sitting on the kitchen aisle of his bleak apartment was the proof. He liked that you thought of him in whatever capacity. Also, it made him fucking joyful.

He wondered how you would react if you came to know that the neon green therapy buddy band you gave him, which he wore religiously to sleep every night, helped him sleep. Steve found it a few days ago and narrowed his eyes, fully knowing who had given the gift, but Bucky evaded the conversation since that incident.

You would surely be on your way home, and maybe a pit stop at Berno's for Pizza, Bucky wondered. When he sat on his motorbike and opened the gift carefully, he didn't know what to expect, but it was definitely not this: The first edition of the Hobbit. He was on the verge of tears.

Fucking hell, sweetheart!

He groaned loudly, probably scaring the bird perched on the twig beside him.

All he truly wanted to do was kiss you and yell at you all the same. He knew it costed a fortune because he tried to enquire about it when you both went to that Book Fest a few months ago.

Tethered to his insecurities, all his doubts were peeling away slowly but surely, all thanks to you. However surreal it sounded, he hoped you felt for him in some way, though he prayed you did feel for him as much as he did.

Or why would you constantly test his resolve like this otherwise? The rational part of his brain provided another factually appropriate answer: You were the most kind-hearted woman he'd known in his entire life, and it's a long life.

Last Christmas Eve, when Steve convinced you to come, Bucky loved and hated that you bought him and the others gifts. You were so kind and attentive. You met Steve and Sam only a few times, but you had gifted Steve a beautiful sketching set, which made Steve blush like a fool, and an automated multipurpose tool for Sam's wings. You even got Nat and Wanda a scarf and Tony a digital greeting card that was projected from the tiny Iron Man figurine. Tony was shocked and elated and gave you permanent access to the lobby kitchen, which was a pretty big deal for Tony.

You got Bucky a sweater; it made him reminisce about Christmas when he was young, and he forgot how it felt.

He forgot how home felt.

But ever since Wakanda, Steve did ensure going annoyingly out of the way to celebrate Christmas. Bucky wanted to wear the sweater when you gave it to him, but he restrained himself.

He even got you a small pendant with a tiny sun and a couple of sunflowers on either side, which truthfully, he got it made in May for your birthday but didn't find the courage to give you then, so he held on to it and gifted it on the day of Christmas.

It was purely stupid how he kept you away from Sam and Steve after that because Steve blushed six ways from Sunday when he saw his Christmas present, and Sam had downright hugged you. Bucky had to reign in his growl and not peel Sam away from you.

Bucky knew they were just friendly because they teased him with you, and Steve always had a shit-eating grin when you were around, but he couldn't simply take any chance. So, after that, he would say you were busy whenever they asked to invite you for an outing.

Bucky knew that was lame, but he feared if you spent time with his friends, you might eventually like one of them, and he couldn't compete with an average person, let alone someone like Steve or Sam. So, he kept you at bay.

When Bucky first met you, he hated that you were babysitting him. He didn't like that idea. You always greeted him with a bright smile and kindness; he felt undeserving. He evaded you like the plague, but you were fucking persistent. He eventually gave up not liking you running around with a broken arm for him despite looking as adorable as you did.

You respected his boundaries and let him be himself, just pushing enough. You understood him without having to say a word. You discarded Dr. Raynor's list once you felt his unease. You realized how he felt about crowded places and started taking him to places in the less rush hour. You took him to your favorite stargazing spot when he had a meltdown one evening. Bucky cried, sitting under the stars, and you gave him space, walking back to the car, saying you needed some water.

You didn't press him to talk or asked him how he was feeling or if he wanted to discuss it. Ever so often, you glanced over at him with a quiet reassurance that said he didn't have to be anything other than what he was at that moment. You simply let him be, and he never felt lonely.

When he was first asked to train the recruits, Bucky didn't know how to tell you that he felt nervous, but you understood and accompanied him, sitting through the training.

What took the cake was the day you punched that drunk asshole who passed some comments on him. Bucky was used to it, but you were livid, and he was too stunned to stop you. He felt so many mixed emotions that day that it shook him to no end. You stirred his senses in every fucking way deemed possible. With one prolonged eye lock, he would feel balmy all over. He was scared of the way his body was reacting to you.

Slowly but eventually, he realized you were a blessing to his tainted existence and loved you irrevocably. He didn't know how to go about it.

Bucky wondered if he could live a day when you loved him like he did. He hoped every damn moment despite feeling selfish to even pray for someone like you. Pushing his thoughts aside before spiraling into an anxious mess, he quickly started his bike and followed the well-versed route to your home.

~

It was funny how helpless you felt sitting by your apartment door when, not even a few hours ago, you were hanging off buildings with your colleagues to save civilians. You lost your house keys and, most likely, left them back in your locker at the compound. Generally, your house keys were attached to your car keys, but you replaced the car key recently and forgot to put the spare apartment keys to it.

It was no big deal; all you had to do was call the emergency services or the building supervisor, and they would come with the master keys. But your phone was out of charge, and you really didn't want to wake your neighbors. You looked at your watch blink 1:20 AM, which was the last straw as you slid by your door, throwing your backpack beside you, and pulled your knees closer to feel a bit cozy. Despite the warm March weather, you felt cold.

Everything caught up to you, and you burst into tears, feeling the dull ache in your body from the mission, mentally exhausted from overwhelming, unrequited thoughts for Bucky. You felt terrified and troubled.

All you wished for at that moment was to cuddle up in your bed and forget about everything. You groaned loudly as you got up determined, telling yourself to get your shit together. You probably needed to sleep in your car or return to the compound to get your keys. You wiped away your tears, fiercely picked up your backpack, and walked towards the elevator.

To your utter shock, the elevator doors opened to reveal none other than your resident mental occupant in all his tall handsomeness.

"Why are you crying?" Bucky demanded, in a tone you were very much used to, as he stepped out and looked at you keenly with concern. You stood there shocked, sniffing, unsure if you were dreaming or if he was really standing before you.

"What are you doing here?" You questioned him instead.

He didn't answer as he took another step closer, and pulled your left forearm in his gloved palm, and looked up and down your modest hallway, estimating any potential dangers. He always did that, sometimes so subtly you wondered if he was consciously aware even.

"What happened?" He asked again, his tone a bit more authoritative, and you sighed, feeling the warmth from his gloved hand. It singed your skin with so many fucking feelings you pulled away from him quickly.

"Lost my keys," you told him, wiping away the tears, feeling embarrassed to be caught in your turmoil of irrationality.

"That's it?" Bucky asked, and there was no mocking in his tone. Despite trying to read into his every word, he was just asking out of concern and hoping there was no looming danger you were escaping from.

You shrugged. "Why didn't you call me?" He asked like you were absolutely stupid not to think about it.

"If my phone didn't die on me, I would be inside my home right now, James," you quipped angrily.

A small, almost nonexistent grin appeared on his face. You knew how much he hated when you called him James in that mocking way Dr. Raynor called him, but you did it anyway.

He snatched your bag, "Hey," you shouted at him in disbelief.

"Come on." He demanded, and you stood confused.

"Where?" you asked.

But he didn't answer as he walked to your front door, squatting down with one knee on the ground, he removed something from his pocket.

All your earlier anger died, and you looked at him aghast.

"What the hell, Bucky?" You hissed.

He looked at you from where he was sitting with an eyebrow raised. Bucky chuckled, working on the knob with something small, obscured in his huge palm.

Honestly, you knew he was more than capable of tearing down the damn door from its hinges. So, you were merely grateful he didn't do it.

You wondered what he was doing here. Wasn't he supposed to be at the party?

~~~~~

Becoming one with each other is only possible with a dollop of happy accidents.

Bucky could almost see the questions swirling in your head. Truthfully, he hardly gave any thought to what he would accomplish when he saw you.

He simply hopped on his bike and rode through the night air. It was purely instinctive. To ensure you made it home safe, and maybe just maybe, if he did muster up some courage and knocked on your door this late at night, he would demand answers to why you would gift him the book.

But when he saw you behind those elevator doors, his heart dropped. He quickly caught onto your state, holding in the rage to inquire first what hurt you. He physically had to rein himself not to pull you into his arms. You looked so distressed it chipped his heart.

He was somewhat thankful you lost your keys because that delayed your questioning of his presence there.

When he knelt before your door, you were beyond shocked. He held the doorknob with the Vibranium hand, and you rushed forward, fearing he would break the door.

"What the hell, Bucky?" You whisper-shouted at him. He looked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at you.

"We are not trespassing. This is your home," he stated.

You rolled your eyes exasperatedly as you bend over his shoulder, looking at what he was up to when he shuffled in his wallet and pulled a small plier with his right hand.

"Don't break the knob," you warned him, crouching over his shoulder. One of your stray hairs escaped the clutches of the loose bun you tied, touching his right cheek and tickling his senses. Bucky gulped audibly.

"Do you mind?" He groaned, his voice coming out more irritated than intended. You stood up and pouted slightly, stepping to the side and leaned onto the wall beside the door. He had another quip ready on his tongue as he followed your suit, standing up, his metal palm fisting the knob.

When he looked at you, you stared up into his eyes with scrunched brows and a slight pout, looking so fucking adorable he could damn well kiss you right there against your front door, and no one could stop him. But he held back, instead twisting the knob and opening the door wide. "You underestimate me, doll," he rasped, licking his lips and clearing his throat.

~

You looked sideways, feeling a shit ton of gratitude for Bucky's exemplary sneaking skills.

Your shoulders sagged in relief, and you dragged yourself inside. Bucky followed you inside without hesitation. This was probably the second time he was here. The familiar sense of home enveloped him as he glanced around. Hardly anything changed, and it was just like how he saw it initially, except maybe a few more plants were added to the hall.

You took a few more steps inside and turned around suddenly.

"What are you doing here, Bucky?" You asked him as you ran a hand through your hair, adjusting the mess. But again, Bucky saw you in much worse state, so, you let your hair be.

He didn't say a word as he put down your bag beside the coffee table and took small steps toward you, looking at you with such intensity that it made you shiver. He pulled the familiar wrapped book from inside his jacket pocket, and your eyes widened involuntarily.

'Act cool,' You chastised yourself.

Bucky's blue eyes held your gaze as he stepped closer, engulfing your senses. Your neck strained looking at him.

"Why?" his soft voice belied his stormy gaze.

You stepped back, but his right-hand snaked around your waist, stopping you from taking another step. He didn't pull you close. No, but the hand remained softly and painstakingly still.

You realized how fucking gorgeous he looked even this closely. "Bucky," you started, licking your lips and clearing your throat to muster confidence.

"Are you drunk?" you asked as that was the first thing that popped into your head. His brows raised in surprise at your question before a small smile formed on his face.

"No, just wanted to make sure you are okay. You left the party before we finished talking," Bucks said, still not moving an inch. That party brought images of the blue-dress lady, and your insecurities swam back to the surface. You tried to step away, and this time, he let you.

"Thanks for checking in on me. I'm totally fine…umm…thanks for the door, too. If it wasn't for you…," you chuckled humorlessly, wondering how long it would have been for you to get back into your apartment. Bucky stared at you, listening to you intently, eyes searching your every expression. When you shut up, he leaned on the backside of the couch, crossing his legs at his ankles. He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up more, before folding his arms on his chest and staring at you.

You focused on the snake plant on the other side of the living room, trying not to look at the handsome man casually taking up your literal and figurative space. How long had it been since you watered it? It looked fine and healthy, but maybe you should look closer.

"Hey," his voice inevitably pulled your focus back on him.

"Why did you give me this?" he asked more affirmatively. You bit your lip from groaning out loud.

What do you even say?

"It's your birthday, Barnes," you declared with a chuckle as if he was unaware of the occasion. He rolled his eyes, exasperated, and sighed.

"Is it?" He scoffed. You nodded innocently. After a whole minute, he straightened up, wary of your behavior, as you stared back at him and did not give him any quirky replies.

"I'll let you rest," he sighed and walked towards the door. You were slightly relieved but momentarily felt the need to stop him from leaving. It was almost like he heard your inner battle because he abruptly turned to you.

You gasped at the suddenness and let your well-practiced, impassive look slip.

Bucky seemed to read you: the vulnerability and the need. Because the very next second, you were pressed on the wall near your kitchen entrance.

You let out an ungraceful squeak as he placed his metal arm beside you and crouched down to your eye level.

"No," he said, and you look at him stunned.

"No?" you repeated. Bucky nodded, licking his lips. Your eyes moved to them. Blue. Beautifully so.

"We are going to talk," he stated, pushing your hair behind your ear. Despite the gloves, his touch serenaded your skin, and you gasped, breathing in sharply. His eyes darkened, and he parted his lips, tracing his fingers underneath your chin. His intoxicating breath swept your senses.

"Bucky," you whimpered.

"You are so fucking gorgeous, doll," he said almost in a throaty whisper, and you looked at him, feeling the desperate need to close the gap between you.

A semblance of control took over you, and you cleared your throat, "You sure you're not high on something?" you whispered, your mind dizzy with sensation as he leaned his forehead onto you. Your body loses ground, gravitating towards him. He held you steady. His breath seemed ragged, too.

"I'm sure as hell high on you, sweetheart," his fingers traced your cheek, running a hot trail onto your throat as he pushed his huge palm on your heart, teetering on engulfing your left boob almost. Almost. You let out a moan, feeling the ringing in your ears and the heat spreading your cheeks.

"I like listening to this," he said softly.

Why was he doing this to you? You would combust into flames if he tortured you anymore. By the look of it, it seemed like he was attracted to you, but your heart didn't want to accept that fact just yet.

"James," you all but cry.

"You seriously gonna call me that, huh," he laughed, pushing his forehead an inch away, slightly rubbing his nose on yours.

You had a rational thought to push him away and protect yourself, but you were viciously woven with everything that was Bucky.

"Tell me," he demanded, placing a soft peck on your cheek and leaning onto your right ear, lips dancing on your skin, making you slick with want and desperation for him.

"You feel this too, don't you? It would be more than enough for me if you even remotely like me...I...I love you so much, sweetheart," he whispered, with a tinge of sadness in his tone.

It tugged at your heart.

He loved you.

Bucky loved you.

Your heart might burst in joy. So, all this while you were living in a stupid bubble of self-loathing while you could have confessed your feelings for him.

Frickin frack! Mother of Hallmark, stupid drama-loving life.

"Bucky…," your own eyes blurred with emotions and frustration.

"No, tell me… 'coz sure as hell your job description didn't have you to punch that moron that day, to nurture me back to life, to save me from myself...someone like me..." he breathed, his jaw clenched unable to finish his thought. You could see he was holding back his tears.

You looked at him sharply, shaking your head. "Don't say that, please," the tears escaped your eyes freely now.

He gave you a gentle smile, rubbing your tears away and kissing your forehead before looking into your eyes. His metal arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close to him gently.

It felt like he knew your answer already, but he was waiting for you to say it out loud, and you were marshaling everything in you to speak because, dear heavens, you were breathless.

"Come on, doll…put me out of this fucking misery," he groaned, lips ghosting yours.

"I love you," you told him. "Bucky, you have no idea how much, god you are so fucking annoying, but you are everything and more," you nodded at him. He chuckled, his vision glassy just like yours as he gently rubbed your lower back and his forehead on yours before looking into your eyes.

"I can be yours forever?" He asked with a hopeful, teary smile, and you laughed. Bucky Barnes was such a dork, and you were a simp for him. You nodded eagerly, and he leaned forward, cupping your jaw firmly and pecked your lips. The sensation was so overwhelming. It was almost like a fire was lit.

Bucky growled, tightening his hold on you, and you leaned forward eagerly, engulfed by his senses and his smell, which was so intoxicatingly warm and nice. The next kiss was nothing gentle; it was so intense that you had to grip his short hair with one hand and the other, taking hold of his jacket lapel.

When you broke the kiss, you looked at him sharply.

He pulled away slightly. "You good, sweetheart? 'Coz, I really couldn't tell if you were going to yell at me or kiss me again," he whispered teasingly, a slight twinkle in his eyes. You groaned, pulling him into another kiss, and he almost lost his balance as he placed one arm on the wall to steady your both.

God! He tasted divine!

When you broke away from the kiss, you chuckled tearfully, watching his glassy eyes fill with emotion.

"You're crying, Bucky? Was it that bad, or are you just overwhelmed by how irresistible I am?" You remarked, still fully dazed from Bucky's intoxicating presence.

Bucky smacked his lips and rolled his eyes playfully, caressing your cheek. Your bottom lip quivered as his thumb ran over it.

"I love you," he told you, and your heart fluttered, listening to him confess again.

"You look a little stunned there, too, doll. Don't worry, it's mutual, "he chuckled, pecking your lips again; he tasted so addicting you couldn't help but moan in that daze, and when he squeezed your waist, you yelped a bit louder than intended.

He suddenly shifted, and you looked at him surprised. A frown formed on his perfectly gorgeous face. "You are hurt," he said and experimentally ran his hand over your back, and you clenched your back in pain.

"Of course not," you lied through your teeth, not wanting the moment to end.

The sudden shift of his expression was comical. It gave you a whiplash.

"You are such a pain in my ass," he groaned as he carefully lifted you up and took you to the couch. You squealed holding his shoulders.

"Bucky, I'm not that hurt. Put me down," you shuffled, but he didn't let go until you were seated on the couch.

"Show me," he demanded as he squatted before you.

"Geee... Ask me out on a coffee at least before you demand me to strip," you remarked, and the way he blushes made you double down with laughter.

He rolled his eyes and looked at you sharply. "Always a grump," You grumbled, turning to your side and lifting your shirt slightly.

He loves you. He loves you. Your brain chanted for you, and your joy knew no bounds.

"Does it hurt here?" Bucky asked, with one arm gently holding you on the shoulder.

You thought of lying but sighed, "Just a bit."

"It's not swollen, so that's good," he said, pushing the shirt down.

Such a gentleman.

You smiled, and he looked at you with a shy grin.

"Come here," you said, hugging him to your heart's content. Bucky's broad shoulders and arms wrapped you in his big frame, making you feel all cozy and tiny.

"Best birthday present ever," he whispered, gently kissing your shoulder and enveloping you in his arms as he settled on the couch, pulling you onto his lap gently.

"Happy Birthday, Sergeant Barnes," you added, and he chuckled, placing another kiss on your hair.

~

Bucky never gave much thought to what he wore as long as his metal arm was covered, but right now, he felt out of depth as he stared at his closet. He had two formal shirts and three pairs of jeans. The other four were T-shirts. Deciding to go with the blue T-shirt and the leather jacket you got him, he rode to your place swiftly, wanting to be near you.

Last night, he didn't realize when he fell asleep in your arms, and it was the most peaceful he had slept in years. When he woke up in the morning, he was covered in a warm blanket that smelled like you, and he thought he was dreaming when you leaned down and placed a small peck on his cheek, wishing him good morning with a bright smile.

You made him coffee and breakfast, and he felt exhilarated; the sense of belongingness and home engulfed him. Ever since you first met, you always gave him boxes of food, and it became a habit at this point, but today, it felt different.

It was different.

When you looked at him with that smile as you sipped on your coffee, he couldn't help but pull you in for another kiss, knowing you were his. It was a supreme feeling, and he didn't want that feeling to end. He whispered 'I love you' against your lips for the third time as he left your place, promising to get dinner that night. "It's a date," he told you firmly, and you nodded eagerly.

Bucky sped to you. And when you opened the door, his eyes widened. You had worn a dark red dress that flowed around your waist and a denim jacket on your shoulders. You looked ethereal with your hair down.

He sighed dreamily, and you chuckled shyly, a blush tinging your cheeks. "Alright, enough with that face, Bucky," you said, shutting your door.

Everything felt new but familiar.

~

When you opened the door, Bucky stood there, dressed in a casual but perfectly fitted dark jacket you gifted for his birthday over a blue Henley and jeans highlighting his broad shoulders.

He looked gorgeous.

At your awkwardness at his dreamy look, he let out a laugh and pulled you closer, giving you a deep and thorough kiss that made your tummy flutter and panties drench and probably would have scarred Jenny on your floor if she lingered outside.

Bucky was a sinful kisser.

When you looked up and smiled at him, he kissed you again.

"Oh, shit...forgot these...here," he handed a bouquet. Your eyes widened at the gesture.

"You didn't have to, Bucky," you said dreamily, looking at the flowers and then at him. The last time you got flowers was probably when you graduated college and your parents gave them to you. It was funny you got all shy when he looked at you that way.

Bucky frowned. "Of course, I have to," he said, and your heart skipped a beat.

"I love them," you said to him, kissing his cheek. "Hold on, lemme put them in the water."

~

The setting sun crafted soft and vibrant hues, hinting at the promise of an even more perfect night. Bucky and you walked together a million times but the walk to the restaurant this time felt so different. It was thrilling and you were literally floating. Bucky held you close, gripping your hand in his warm hold.

The two of you decided on a small, cozy restaurant tucked away from the bustling streets, where the lights were slightly dimmer than the usual restaurants you used to usually go. The space was intimate, and the scent of freshly baked bread filled the air as you were led to your table near a window overlooking the softly lit street.

You both ordered easily, the familiarity of the connection for almost an year coming through. The conversation flowed naturally as you talked about everything and nothing: childhood stories, awkward teenage moments, favorite movies, and the silliest fears. You swapped funny moments from the therapy sessions you'd both been reluctantly pulled into. He told you all about what he felt when he first met you.

You loved watching him so vulnerable and happy. He was more relaxed, teasing you gently and smiling with that boyish charm that made your heart twitch in the best way. You noticed the small things: the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed and his long legs framing yours. He'd pressed them into yours, in a caressing touch.

As you finished your meal, Bucky glanced outside, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the sidewalk.

Bucky, looked at you with a playful glint in his eyes, "You up for a walk? It's too nice out to head home just yet."

"Yeah, let's go," you eagerly agreed.

The cool evening breeze brushed against your skin, and Bucky's warmth blanketed you cozily. The city was alive but not too overwhelming, just a gentle hum of life as people strolled by or sat at outdoor cafés, lost in their own worlds. Bucky walked beside you, his hand squeezing yours, each touch sending a small spark up your arm--and to other parts.

As you reached the waterfront, the city lights reflected off the gentle ripples of the river, creating a shimmering path that stretched into the distance. You walked slowly--Bucky, with his long legs did walk slower--the sound of water lapping softly against the pier and the faint chatter of distant conversations blending into a soothing symphony.

You found a bench nestled near the pier's edge and sat down side by side. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of saltwater and the occasional breeze that lifted the ends of your hair. For a moment, you were content to just sit there, enjoying the serene view and the quiet company.

Bucky pulled you impossibly closer, intertwining his fingers with you and pecking your forehead. For a while, you sat in comfortable silence, watching the city come alive with twinkling lights and the occasional sound of a passing boat.

Bucky gazed at you, his expression soft and thoughtful.

He leaned forward, pulling your waist a bit, twisting you towards him.

"You look so pretty," he whispered, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. It was supposed to be sweet, but the look you shared had him pulling you onto his lap, and you willingly complied, your dress inching up.

You could feel his hardness underneath all your layers, and you rolled your hips instinctively. He grunted at the feeling, clenching his jaw. His hand lingered on your thigh, and when you kissed him more, carding your fingers through his hair, he didn't hesitate to move his hands inside your dress, fingers trailing up and cup your ass, helping you move on him. He let out a low growl, and you bit his lip. He looked at you with a sly grin when you slowly opened your eyes.

"I should say sorry, but I'm really not," he winked at you, and you giggled, leaning to hide in the crook of his neck.

"But I think we will be arrested if we are caught. Plus, I don't want anyone to see you like this, and I think someone is coming," Bucky remarked, gently sitting you down beside him. You chuckled, licking your lips, adjusting your dress. Bucky ran a hand over your hair.

You set his jacket lapel straight, which you clutched in a death grip not a moment ago.

~

Apt to say Bucky was touch starved and ever since you confessed your love, he didn't hesitate to pull you into long bear hugs or kiss you senselessly.

Being with Bucky Barnes was a dream, surely, but equally damn frustrating. Initially, it was a bit overwhelming, and despite the heated make-out on your first date, he was still taking things slow, and you didn't want to hurry him.

You reeled in the need to climb him up like a tree or push his hands a little further down when they lingered on your chest, but you were aware he was still working on things and pushing him too much would worsen things for him. You didn't want to rush him whatsoever and were willing to take whatever he gave. He'd been through so much, and you want him to control the pace and not let your lust-hazed mind take the reins.

So, you were delighted when he pushed you back down on the couch and kissed you senselessly. Both of you were watching the TV, and one thing led to another, and you were dry-humping. He wound your leg around his back and breathed on you warmly. It sent a shiver down your spine the way he moaned.

And you were on the precipice when his phone rang, spilling a cold bucket of water on the moment. So, Bucky left reluctantly, not before pressing you against the door and kissing you like he was deprived, and then he smiled at you so softly, whispering I love you; it made you want to throw a fit.

He was so fucking perfect despite testing every bit of your resolve.

All you could do was take care of yourself after that rough make-out session; the memory of his hardness, hips rolling with force, made you want to tear down his pants and taste him. You wondered if he took care of his huge problem when he was in the confines of his apartment.

You groaned, imagining those callous hands running down his length and slowly inching inside your wet heat, stroking you the right way and the coil in your stomach built.

"Oh, shit," you moaned into the pillow, clutching the sheets in a death grip and feeling the tightness build in your belly.

Bucky Barnes was a walking sinful creature and dear God, you want to sin between those legs.

That image in your head brought your orgasm tumbling down. You let the vibrator fall away and sighed, turning on your back and normalizing your breath.

You heard a raspy chuckle, and you shrieked.

Sitting up straight, you covered your front with the blanket, thinking it was just a bad dream and Bucky was not really standing there at the door watching you like a hawk.

He looked at you from head to toe, and took a step closer. Your heart beat out of your chest, crescending on the verge of bursting.

What the hell was he doing here? Didn't he leave? When did he come back? Fuck!

Humiliation was a bad color, and currently, you were coated to a T.

"Bucky," you whispered, grappling at the fact he was actually standing there, looking intensely at you, and you hoped you didn't conjure any image.

He licked his lips, biting on the lower one, and your eyes inadvertently locked onto his stormy gaze.

What you felt at that moment was incomprehensible. The shameful feeling had your tummy fluttering, and your heart tugged as he didn't say a thing.

Did you just lose respect in Bucky's eyes? Should you maybe say something or laugh it off?

But--thankfully--he made the decision for you, and your throat ran dry.

Bucky had an impassive look as he took a few steps closer, still not saying a word. He discarded his jacket and threw it to the side without care, which took you by surprise because he looked so composed otherwise.

You felt the heat spread across your face, and your ears rang slightly, the post-orgasmic haze long gone, replaced by a feeling of being on edge, which you were not sure whether you liked or not.

Bucky pulled the chair from your writing desk. He lifted it with one hand, placed it closer to the side of your queen bed, and picked up the lavender vibrator that you discarded not so long ago, all the while not breaking eye contact.

His lips twisted in something that was a smug grin.

You held onto the blanket like your life depended on it, very well aware that you were stark naked underneath the covering. He sat back on the chair, almost dwarfing it. Your thighs clenched at the unapologetic way he dragged his eyes along the length of your body. Bucky leaned forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees. He curiously studied the vibrator.

You gulped, breath coming out ragged, when you noticed the tick in his jaw. Bucky let out a dark chuckle.

"Thought you were in pain, sweetheart. I almost tore down the front door," he said, and a smirk adorned his face.

You looked at Bucky guiltily, "But you were just playing with yourself," he cooed at you with hooded eyes, making your tummy flutter. You could feel the slick running down your thighs, "Bucky," you whispered, throat dry as he sat back comfortably, twirling the vibrator between his metal fingers.

He sat back, manspreading on the tiny chair, his form engulfing it. He curled two fingers up and gestured forward. Obeying him without a word, you inched closer, still clutching the blanket, wanting, needing to straddle him and kiss him.

Bucky's look was unwavering as he picked you up, holding your bare ass and settled you on him with the blanket still covering your front. He let out a deep growl that you felt resonating in his chest as you held him for support. You gasped at the feel of his bulging cock in his pants.

He pulled you impossibly closer, and you could literally feel the warmth of his entire body engulfing you. He rubbed one of his hands on the bare skin of your back, leaving your skin burning, yearning. His darkened blues crinkled, promising you dirty things.

Your humiliation dripped away into arousal when he finally pulled you in for a kiss. It was just like the one he gave you before he left, intense with all tongue and teeth. Bucky's fingers carded through your hair, and he pulled you by your nape; the slight, painful tug made you moan without trepidation.

Breaking the kiss, he licked his lips, and they part slightly as he breathed heavily. He placed open-mouth kisses on your jaw and all the way to your throat, and you felt the need for his lips on yours again.

"My pretty girl," he rasped in your ear, nipping at your lobe, and you let out a loud cry at the sensation. He groaned eagerly, pulling you into another kiss, and the way his tongue moved made you whine in need, wanting to feel his hands on you, in you. He let out a grunt, pulling back and looking at you.

"Were you thinking of me when you played with yourself?" he demanded, his voice a few octaves lower, soft with a slight twinkle in his eyes and his demeanor a bit too intense. You bit your lip, hiding in the crook of his neck.

"Yes," you whispered, unable to meet his intense gaze.

Bucky hummed, pleased with the answer. He kissed you gently on your bare shoulder. His scruff felt delectable as he nipped your exposed skin. He tugged at the blanket gently, and you straightened in his lap. Bucky didn't pull it out of your grasp but waited for you, and when you loosened the grip on the blanket, he smiled at you almost dreamily, letting it fall in your lap, covering just your upper thighs and pussy.

He looked down hungrily, licking his lips and looked up at you again, asking for permission. And if you were in a better mind, you'd have rolled your eyes, but you simply nodded eagerly.

"These are mine," he said, looking up from your tits. You would have said, 'Everything is yours, Bucky,' but your throat was parched.

You nodded, agreeing enthusiastically, waiting for him to touch you in any way. His hand went to your ass, and he lifted you slightly and kissed your right tit, and you let out a satisfied cry. He nuzzled his cheek, running his sharp nose on the skin, applying a bit of pressure before he took your left boob into his mouth entirely and sucked, running his tongue on your nipple. You gasped pathetically as you fisted his hair and shirt in a strong vice.

"Umm," he moaned, feeling far too lost as he kept sucking and lapping at your tit.

Holy shit, you could come just like this!

You felt him harden some more as he rolled his hips upward, and you felt the friction on you just the right way as you grinded down on him, wanting to remove the blanket and tear his pants down and suck him dry.

Your one hand traveled down his chest experimentally, nails running down his thin shirt, and he grunted loudly. You rolled your hips once again, and he hissed in pleasure, throwing his head back and letting out a throaty moan. Bucky pushed your hips apart, and you whine in displeasure.

He shook his hand as one of his hand massaged your tit, rubbing the pad of his thumb on your pebbled nipple. You were perched on him, with his denim-covered thighs touching your undersides sensually.

"I will give you everything, doll, but before that...," he rasped, running his other hand down the length of your spine and squeezing your ass roughly, making you cry in pleasure.

"Show me," he demanded, pulling you a bit away from him and handing you the vibrator.

Mortification, that's what you felt at the sly way his eyes crinkled. He raised his brows and turned on the vibrator, and the faint buzz filled the silent room.

"Wanna see you make yourself cum for me," he breathed on your jaw, biting it gently, and you moved closer to him, "From up close, doll. You will do that for me, won't you?" he asked quite innocently, toying with your tit running his Vibranium hand on your outer thigh and inching the pooled blanket upwards.

Oh!

You bit your lip in misery. Bucky Barnes was a fucking menace, and he was nowhere close to the innocent gentleman you thought he was. You knew he was charming, but how the fuck did he get to be...all this? You were screwed, in a good way, of course.

He saw you concede and let out a sly grin. "This is obstructing my view," he said, pulling off the blanket. You choked on your breath, gasping as you were now sitting on your fully dressed man while you were buck naked with a vibrator in your hand.

Your man, though. Your man!

You couldn't possibly conjure up such an erotic dream now, could you?

Holy shit! You were not going to last long.

He looked down at your bare pussy, and he moaned needily, grasping your waist and squeezing it, licking his lips and looking at you.

"Fucking pretty and all mine. Go on. Show me. fuck yourself," he ordered, adjusting you on his lap.

Propriety was a long-lost dream at this point. So, when you shyly touched your clit with the vibrator, you whimpered in delight. And Bucky held you grounded on the spot.

Before long, you were lost in the familiar haze, pushing the vibrator inside your slick channel and needing to close your legs for better friction, but his legs and the position he held you in were thwarting you from moving. His right palm stretched on your upper thigh, and he squeezed tightly, leaving red marks all over. He moved his hand to the inner thigh, massaging the skin with a bit more pressure, and you felt your pussy clench in delight, and you just wanted his rough fingers touching you.

He didn't move though.

"Please," you begged. Bucky nodded, pulling you in for another short kiss and looked at you intensely, at the way the vibrator slipped in and out, and the way your slick coated it. He groaned, biting his lower lip. He moved his hand to squeeze your hip while his metal palm rubbed the underside of your tit before squeezing it.

The coldness of his palm, the sensual way he was rubbing your ass, and his presence in general surmounted your senses, and you careened to your orgasm. However, the vibrator died, and you gasped breathlessly, cursing your fate.

Your frustrated cry and his laughter resound in your hazy mind, and he tutted, almost condescendingly, "That's unfortunate," he said with a smug smile. You would have retorted, but your needy mind resigned to begging him instead.

"Touch me, please, Bucky… please," with tears running down your cheeks.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I'll smack you if you don't touch me," your frustrated cry earned another chuckle.

"You never have to beg me for anything, doll," he said, fingers inching closer and closer to your pussy, and you waited, tethered on the edge of pleasure.

"Well, maybe sometimes…," he stopped as an afterthought, and you gripped his palm, trying to pull him closer to where you want, but he resisted. "I would love for you to beg," he added, bringing your clutching palm to his mouth. He placed a kiss on the inside of your palm and moved to kiss your fingers; his tongue peeked out slightly as he licked your fingertips.

"Bucky," you gasped as he looked at you with need. He let go of your hand, and ran his rough tips from the middle of your chest to the lower abdomen, halting slightly.

"You got somewhere to be?" he mocked, and you looked at him surprised.

Smug son of a gun!

"So pretty," he said, finally, running his fingers across your slick heat and turning his hand to cup you, palming your aching mound, and his fingertips brushed against your wet channel. He let out a loud, filthy sound as you breathlessly arched your back. He slowly inched his middle finger inside your wet channel until his first knuckle, and you bucked in his lap.

"You are clenching me so tight." He hissed as he looks down dreamily. Bucky's look, the days and days of needing him and the first touch made you reel as your orgasm hit you embarrassingly fast.

Needing to feel him much closer, your hand moved down and lifted his shirt, and he helped you remove it.

"You're perfect," you ran your palm down his chest, admiring him and feeling lucky to be his.

He gazed up at you and grinned shyly.

"She's dripping for me, baby girl," he said, looking at you amazed. "All for you," you told.

That made him snap.

"Fucking right," he said, standing up and pushing the chair away with his foot and depositing you on the bed as he hovered over you with his metal arm beside your head and kissed you senseless, leaving you completely out of breath, his fingers running up and down your pussy lips. His thumb roughly circled the clit while his metal arm caressed your cheek softly, and you wailed in pleasure, rocking your hips into his hand. He moved down to place kisses on your throat, and you mewled, feeling too sensitive. 

He sat on his heels and pulled you up. You squeaked at the way he manhandled you so effortlessly.

"Been dreaming of you for so long," he said, squeezing your thighs and pushing you to arch your back into the air. Bucky's eyes twinkled under the dim light from the lamp when he looked at you. "I love you," he exclaimed softly, kissing your chin and nipping it slightly.

He rubbed his thumb on your clit, and you clenched in need. "I know," he whispered, almost cooing as he gently bit your ear.

"Stop me if it's too much," he said and waited, and you realized he was asking for your consent.

"Yes, Bucky… just fuck me." You cried in need. He pulled your chin, "Look at me," he ordered, pushing his finger inside you and slowly fucked you, and it felt magical.

"Fuck," you shouted, gasping for air as he angled his finger dexterously exploring inside, and you arched off his lap.

"Should I stop?" he asked worriedly, and you looked at him like he was crazy. "No," you wanted to say instead cried in delight.

But when he stopped moving and looked at you with concern, you mustered up your sanity and shook your head. "Keep going, lover boy," you rasped, and he did.

Oh, sweet heaven! He did. Pushing in a bit more, and he chuckled into your mouth, breathing heavily, lips parted.

Bucky looked like a fucking dream. He lowered you down on the bed and moved his finger inside you, angling around to test what made you tick. When you felt the familiar twitch in your lower belly, you wailed out, moaning his name like a prayer.

"So tight. How will you take me, baby? We gotta stretch her nice for me," he grunted, his jaw clenched, still holding your gaze.

"I don't think you'll be able to walk for quite some time. I'll carry you around. I don't mind," Bucky mused thoughtfully, and your eyes rolled back as the pleasure combusted you.

"Eyes on me," he ordered, and you clenched him hard.

You obeyed, staring into his almost darkened eyes and felt the need to please him so badly it appalled you. You arched off the bed as he pushed another finger in completely. You felt his palm flatten on your clit, rubbing sensually. "Aww look how needy she is," he chuckled.

Bucky fucked you with a renewed effort. You scraped your nails on his back, and he clenched his jaw. You tilted your face up and nipped at his jaw gently.

He set a languid pace, and before long, you were clutching his forearm as leverage with both your hands and rolled your hips forward and your orgasm consumed you with such a force that your breath hitched.

Bucky pecked your jaw softly as you came down.

When he massaged your overstimulated clit, you pulled away from him. He let out a satisfied chuckle, and leaned down on you, holding your jaw to look into your eyes. He popped the fingers that just fucked you into his mouth and groaned in pleasure.

Your cheeks flushed as you look at him, shocked and flushed.

"You taste better than plums," Bucky said, nodding to himself. He picked you up, and gently settled you on the pillows like you weigh nothing.

"I need a proper taste," he declared, running his hand on the back of your thigh, bending your leg at the knee and placing it on his right shoulder while holding down the other as he placed his forearm on your stomach, holding you down.

His metal palm ran on the inside of your thigh before you hear the whirring, and he looked at you slyly as he separated your pussy lips and licked his lips. He blew gently, and your pussy fluttered. You let out an unholy pornographic noise.

"You don't have to," you said, suddenly feeling shy.

"It's funny you think I'm doing you a favor," Bucky stated, kissing your clit, and you shrieked. He hovered back up to you, speaking against your mouth. "I've been dying to devour you for a long time, pretty girl, so lie back and let me eat you in peace," he exclaimed, and you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you once more before moving down.

"Fucking gorgeous," he whispered. "See for yourself. Keep those gorgeous eyes on me," he prompted. Sitting back on his heels, Bucky unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down and discarding them somewhere behind. He leaned down and rubbed his nose, "Say, stop, and I will," he promised softly, and you nodded reverently, holding onto every little thing.

"But first," He straightened up, picking up your vibrator and chucked it away to a corner. The vibrator clinked to the corner of your desk and fell down somewhere you couldn't see. "You won't be needing it, I'm here…and that's nothing close to the real deal." He winked at your shocked face. You couldn't help but giggle, but as soon as his mouth descended on your aching and needy pussy, you ascended into your pleasure just as fast.

Bucky Barnes was a fucking handsome grumpy menace. And he was all yours.

Epilogue

If you wanna be tagged in my works, add yourself here. <3 Please send me a message if you wanna be removed from the Tag list. :)

Tag list: @nekoannie-chan @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @bitchy-bi-trash @theallknown213 @tripletstephaniescp @rogerscut @greatenthusiasttidalwave @zaraomarrogers @shadowrose13-blog1 @king814318 @yiiiikesmish @steviebbboi @bernelflo @saiyanprincessswanie @blushingrn @looking1016 @jvanilly @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog @feynightlight

[mercurial-chuckles]

Sorry, I'm not aware of this one, Yvette!

Anyone recognize this? 🤔

Hi!! Can you help me locate this fic? It's a Bucky Barnes x Asgardian reader, who happens to be Loki's sister. They strongly dislike/hate each other and clash after a mission goes wrong. It’s an enemies-to-lovers story with steamy content and a dominant Bucky vibe.

Hello! This is not ringing any bells for me. But I will open it up to others.

Tagging peeps who come to mind when I think of Bucky fics

@allthelostsouls @princessmisery666 @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @navybrat817 @firefly-in-darkness @targaryenvampireslayer @indyluckycharlie @writingsoftheloser @mercurial-chuckles

[mercurial-chuckles]

Thanks for the reblog 😘🫂✨🥰

Bucky Barnes vs Ethan Stark

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader | Olivia Barnes x Ethan Stark Warnings: Sap | Overloaded fluff | Language | Allusions to sex | MDNI | Protective dad Bucky | Grumpy Bucky | Ethan 'Menace' Stark | Friends to lovers trope | Chaos galore | Tom Welling as Ethan Stark 🤭 | Unbeta'd | Let me know if I’m missing anything. Word Count: ~2.5k A/N: @soelstress sowed this idea in my head after reading Sappy Sunday Thought. Thank you, my lovely Soels! I have no clue how far and how deep I'm gonna spiral with this, but hey...this is a start. 💕🤭 I had a whole different banner, but after those recent pictures of Seb, I had to change... he's giving major Zaddy vibes, NGL! 😏😉👀 This is also my submission to Cranky!Grumpy!Stabby! Oh, My! Challenge | @yenzys-lucky-charm | 🗡️ A: Smoothing out the crease in Cranky’s frown while straddling their lap B: Cranky character melts, pulling them in for a kiss & Grem's 20 Characters with 20 Questions for 20 Tropes Challenge | @gremlin-girly | Bucky Barnes + 7Q + 5T | Thank you both for hosting 🩷🥹🫂 Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner credits to me. Picture credits to the internet. Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Indulge Away!

****

According to Bucky, his wife was a savage.

Bucky was ecstatic until you soured his mood. Because you'd waited until three orgasms later to tell him, right after he pounded you against the wall, while his brain was still trying to catch up, when you delivered the blow. No pun there.

He woke up utterly happy that morning. Your daughter, Olivia, was coming home for the summer. She'd just completed her junior year at university, and you had both been counting the days until you saw your baby.

Over the past month, your daughter and husband had been busy planning quite a few activities for all of you. Bucky had even cut down most of his training schedule for the summer, too. You, unfortunately, didn't have the same luxury. The project you and Tony have been working on with DOE was heading into fabrication, and you needed to put in a few more days of brutal work hours before you could dial down.

This visit was extra special. Olivia hadn't been home last summer. She'd spent it halfway across the country, interning at a start-up company in a research program, which she still heard her Uncle Tony whine about it. Most holidays were little weekend sprints. But this time, she was staying for the whole summer.

'Coz this time, she'd landed an internship with the research team at the compound after clearing a written exam and three rounds of interviews. Out of all the applicants, she was one of the three selected to intern at AI.

Tony had no idea, and Olivia had begged Pepper and Maria to keep it low. Olivia was too humble. She was determined to prove herself on her merit, not wanting anyone to think she'd been accepted into the program simply because of her connections. You were proud of your daughter. But there was no doubt Tony would be squealing when he found out Olivia was back and working at the compound, no less.

Bucky had been practically buzzing with excitement, already pulling on his jacket to head for the airport when you casually told him that he'd also be picking up Ethan Stark, who was flying with Olivia.

Bucky's pleasure-ridden mood fizzled out drastically. He turned to glare at you.

On the same fucking plane.

The absolute nightmare.

"Why the fuck was I not aware of this?" He snapped, stalking after you as you got dressed for work.

"Bucky," you sighed, not even sparing him a glance. You were running late, and it was all Bucky's fault. He couldn't keep his hands to himself, not that you minded very much.

It wasn't unpopular that your husband despised Ethan Stark from the moment Olivia was born--mostly because that kid had taken an immediate, obnoxious liking toward his daughter. And it had only gotten worse over time.

"No, seriously. Did you know that they were flying together?" Bucky pressed, backing you up against the couch with his hands caging you in. You tried to shuffle away, but he pushed his thigh between your legs.

"Hey," you squeaked, giggling and squirming, a little sensitive from earlier.

You tried to push him away, chuckling, but he didn't budge. Of course, he didn't. Instead, he flexed his muscles just right, making you moan.

"Tell me," he demanded. You found his pouty, murderous expression endearing.

Honestly, you knew exactly what you were doing. You'd only found out last night that Olivia and Ethan were flying home together. Smart girl that she was, Olivia hadn't breathed a word to her dad either, probably because it was common knowledge in your house that Bucky had a short fuse where Ethan Stark was concerned.

You hadn't meant to hide it.

Maybe you did.

You just figured it wasn't worth mentioning since Ethan already had a ride home from the airport, and you knew Bucky would go no matter what to pick Olivia. So, you decided not to poke the bear, if not required. But then Pepper called, asking for a favor, and honestly, you could never say no to her.

You sighed, winding your arms around his neck. Bucky leaned into you without the slightest resistance, his scorching blue eyes fanning the embers, sparking that wicked burn inside your core.

Fuck, he looked delectable. You'd gotten ridiculously lucky. The silver in his beard, the faint crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and those soft pink lips--all of it made you giddy. And he was all yours.

You pushed up onto your toes, one hand sliding to cup his jaw, your thumb dragging lightly over the coarse scruff. Bucky's breath came slower, as he relaxed into your touch, his jaw unclenching under your touch as he melted closer, letting you pull him exactly where you wanted.

"Bucky," you said sweetly, gently, pecking his lips and scratching lightly at the nape of his neck.

He groaned against your lips, moving to take more, but you slightly inched away, "They've been friends forever. They go to the same school."

"Yeah, still haven't gotten over that shit," Bucky grumbled, recalling the day Olivia got an admit to MIT, where Ethan Stark was pursuing his PhD.

"Ethan's a good kid. Besides, he really cares about her," You added before you could stop yourself.

And boy, you really should have shut up after 'good kid.'

Bucky looked absolutely repulsed, like you'd suggested he walk Olivia down the aisle--something you weren't supposed to talk about, let alone think, according to him. That was his rule. To him, Olivia was still his little baby, and he didn't have to worry about that just yet.

"Exactly. That's the fucking problem. He cares too much," Bucky growled, looking like he was about to punch something.

Ugh! You banged your head against his chest, frustrated.

This was going to be a long summer.

You wished Steve or Sam were here instead of on a mission. They would've picked up the kids from the airport without throwing a fit, unlike your husband.

"I'm NOT getting into this discussion. AGAIN. I need to get to the lab, or Tony's gonna roast me," you warned, wiggling out of his grip, and he reluctantly let you.

"Pepper asked. Please, Buck?" you requested again, rushing toward the door. When you heard nothing, you glanced back to see him sulking on the couch, arms crossed, frown still intact. He looked way too adorable for your own good.

Groaning, you marched back to him and dropped yourself into his lap. His hands automatically wound around you, helping you straddle his lap and tugging you closer, still refusing to look at you.

Stubborn little shit.

You ran your thumb over the crease between his brows.

"Bucky, please?"

"No."

"Bucky."

"No."

"I'll do anything," you tried, wiggling your brows.

"Don't bribe me with your body. It's mine." Bucky exclaimed, squeezing your tit in retaliation. He was not wrong. That kind of deal never worked on your husband.

"Bucky," you tried again, exasperated.

"Fine, anything?" He asked, eyes narrowed at you.

You nodded earnestly.

"Call Pepper and tell her I can't pick up her son." He scoffed.

When you sat there with your game face, silently throwing daggers and not ready to budge, he finally gave in.

"Fine," he conceded, rolling his eyes at you before pulling you in for a kiss.

****

Cramped into the narrow economy seat on a completely packed flight, Olivia Barnes was a nervous wreck. She hadn't planned to be anxious she was super excited to finally see you and her dad, but then her phone buzzed just as they were taxiing for takeoff.

Livi, Dad's gonna pick you and Ethan up. Love you. Can't wait to see you. Safe travels to you both.

Her stomach dropped.

Uh-oh.

Normally, that kind of text wouldn't bother her that much.

Except things were different now.

Very different.

Olivia knew her dad wasn't exactly a fan of Ethan--or any of her guy friends, for that matter. Bucky had a way of scaring most of her guy friends without even trying, but Ethan was different. He didn't scare easily. Olivia actually kind of enjoyed the back-and-forth between the two of them. But now, things were different. Now, she wanted Ethan to be in her dad's good books. Scratch that--his best books.

The tall, annoyingly handsome man sitting next to her, currently wrestling to fit his long legs into a comfortable position, was no longer just her best friend. He was her boyfriend. And no one knew. Well, except for Morgan and most surely aunt Nat.

Trying to steady her racing heart, Olivia leaned toward Ethan and hissed under her breath, "Why didn't you just sit in first class when they offered?"

Right before boarding, an airline associate had bumped Ethan's seat to first class--the perks of being Ethan Stark, son of the legendary Tony Stark.

A girl had recognized him despite his pathetic disguise of a baseball cap and dark glasses. "How's the ruse working, Superman?" Olivia had teased when the associate beamed at him, whispering about the upgrade. Ethan had flat-out denied it and stubbornly refused, choosing to stay right next to Olivia.

"In your dreams," he said now, flashing a grin that made her stomach flip warmly. "I'm sitting right next to you. Deal with it."

To make his point clear, Ethan moved one of his legs between hers, lifting her leg onto his and resting his hand on her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Olivia rolled her eyes and shoved her phone toward him, showing him your text.

Ethan read it.

Blinked.

Blinked.

Blinked some more.

Then chuckled low and rough in his chest.

"Fuck me," he muttered, wide-eyed, looking at her.

"Ethan," Olivia snapped quietly, swatting his hand away from her thigh. "You need to be on your absolute best behavior. I mean it. Do not, I repeat, do not irk him."

"I never do," Ethan scoffed, leaning back in his seat. He pulled her hand into his, interlacing his fingers with hers. "He just hates me because I love you."

Olivia groaned, helplessly.

"Are you listening?" she grumbled weakly. "Until we break it to your mom and dad, and my mom, and Uncle Stevie and Sammy, we are playing it cool."

"And, will you stay as far away from as humanly possible, please?" she added.

Ethan smacked his lips in annoyance, squinting at her.

"Yeah, that? Can't do that," he said stubbornly, inching closer, and quickly pecked her lips.

"Ethan," she glared at him, "I'm fucking serious."

"So am I," he said simply.

"I can't!" He shrugged. "How am I supposed to hold back when you keep looking at me like that?"

"I'm glaring at you," Olivia said flatly.

"And you're hot," Ethan said, sniggering as he shamelessly snuggled his head onto her shoulder.

"Guess you'll have to try real hard then," she muttered, trying not to laugh. He was warm, smelled so good, and his floofy hair tickled her neck.

"Fine," he sighed dramatically, sitting up with a little pout. But not before stealing a quick kiss on her shoulder, making her stomach tingle.

"Fuck you, Ethan," she said, picking up the magazine from the flap in front of her, trying to distract herself.

"I'm game," he whispered warmly against her ear, winking at her.

Feeling her entire face heat up, she beat him with the magazine. He simply laughed.

"Alright. Distance. Noted," he chuckled, but made himself comfortable again, resting his head on the curve of her shoulder. He slept there for the next hour.

Not that she minded.

~

By the time the plane landed in LaGuardia, Olivia was more anxious.

Bucky's text was already waiting when they turned their phones back on.

Shared my location. See ya in a bit. Love you, sweetheart.

Olivia's palms were sweating.

They had to be friendly... but not too friendly.

Close enough to not look suspicious. Distant enough to protect Ethan from her dad's wrath.

To her absolute horror, Ethan snuck in a kiss at the baggage claim. "Don't know when I'll see you alone again," he said dramatically. As Olivia reached for her suitcase, he snagged her wrist, pulling her into him for a kiss.

Olivia jerked back so fast that she nearly toppled the luggage cart.

"Are you out of your mind?!" she whisper-yelled, throwing a frantic look around.

Ethan snorted, "Relax, my Livi. Your dad's there," he said smugly, showing her phone where Bucky's location was blinking.

She gave him a dirty glare and marched ahead, clutching her backpack tightly.

And that's exactly how Bucky found them a few minutes later--Olivia marching stiffly forward, searching for him, with Ethan trailing behind her, grinning.

His gaze narrowed the second he spotted them.

What started as a survival skill, observation became instinctual for Bucky Barnes. And he was hyper-focused when you or his daughter were in the picture.

So, he didn't miss the way Olivia's ears turned pink when she saw him.

He didn't miss the way Ethan instinctively shifted a little closer to her before catching himself and awkwardly veering right.

When Olivia rushed to hug him happily, he didn't miss the smell of Ethan Stark's perfume on his daughter.

He didn't miss a damn thing.

~

Bucky barely said a word to Ethan after the initial greeting.

"Ethan," Bucky acknowledged with a curt nod.

"Sir," Ethan replied with a grin.

Olivia climbed into the passenger seat, nervous, while Ethan tossed both of their bags into the trunk before sliding into the back seat. He positioned himself right behind her seat.

Bucky glanced at them both, his eyes flickering between Olivia's stiff posture and Ethan's relaxed form.

"Good flight?" he asked casually.

"Great!" Olivia blurted out, flashing a smile.

"Terrible," Ethan chimed in simultaneously, leaning back with a dramatic sigh.

Olivia shot him a look through the side mirror.

Bucky's eyebrows lifted slightly, his gaze shifting to the mirror where he caught Ethan's reflection.

"Terrible?" he echoed, starting the car.

Ethan shrugged. "Well, you know… long legs and economy seats."

"Thought you'd travel first-class," Bucky pointed out, pulling out onto the next lane.

Olivia stiffened.

"Dad," Olivia chided. This passive aggression was nothing new, but that remark wasn't cool.

Ethan chuckled, "Yeah, well… first class is a bit expensive, sir. I'm saving money."

Apart from a million other things, this was what Olivia loved the most about him. Ethan Stark was a self-made man, just like her. She noticed the slight twitch at the corner of her dad's lips, a nearly imperceptible sign of approval at Ethan's answer.

That was a damn miracle right there.

Great job, Ethan! She thought...too soon, though.

"Though they did bump me into first class, I couldn't leave Livi alone back there," Ethan added.

Fucking menace was what he was! Ugh! Dickhead!

Olivia nearly facepalmed.

Bucky's eyes flicked toward her, then back to the road. "Didn't realize you two couldn't survive a couple of hours apart," he bit out.

The tension in the car thickened instantly.

Olivia forced a laugh that sounded more like a choking. "Dad…"

"Kidding," Bucky hummed, his tone unreadable.

He was so not kidding, alright!

For a few agonizing moments, there was nothing but silence. Olivia stared determinedly out the window, holding back the urge to scream at the man she loved--and at the same time, wanting to kick him out of the car so she could breathe and catch up with her dad normally.

God, he was annoying. She specifically told him not to irk her dad, but nope. What was he even thinking?

Meanwhile, Ethan seemed entirely too comfortable lounging in the back seat, utterly unbothered by the tension filling in the tiny space.

Quite dreadful, really. And the summer had barely even started.

If you wanna be tagged in my works, add yourself here. :)

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[mercurial-chuckles]

Thanks for the tag, Soels! 🤭🩷😘 Love all of 'em! 🥰

Here's what I got (NGL, I'm loving it 😏😉):

NPT: @buckets-and-trees @saiyanprincessswanie @thezombieprostitute @mrs-elsie-barnes @stargazingfangirl18 @vunblr @writing-for-marvel and open to everyone who wants to indulge 😘

PINTEREST BLIND DATE

Rules: pinterest is setting you up on a blind date, search the following and post the results: fictional character, date, gift, outfit, dessert, love quote

I found this in my dash and I absolutely had to do it.

Love how Pinterest knows me well and immediately gave me Bucky lol

No pressure tag (if you want to): @sylasthegrim @zaldritzosrose @legitalicat @buck-star @whitedarkmoonflower @aneurins-barnard @lord-aldhelm @sergeantbarnessdoll @navybrat817 @sunday-bug @lives-in-midgard @soelstress @whitedarkmoonflower @aneurins-barnard @lord-aldhelm @kingslionheart @paula-in-dreamland @ms-oswald @st-eve-barnes @holy3cake @gemini-mama @alexagirlie and whoever sees this and wants to join!