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#bucky Barnes fic
inkedbybarnes · 17 hours
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his baby
bucky barnes x fem!reader
summary: bucky won't call you by your name.
word count: 400+
warnings: 18+ minors dni. established relationship. tooth rotting fluff, or worse... allusions to smut. a whole lot of usage of petnames mainly being baby, bucky being obsessed with the reader (that's a warning, i say), lowercase writing.
i have no idea what this is (okay, maybe i do) but it happened. really cheesy, but i guess i'm into that sometimes. hope you like this one!
dividers by @cafekitsune!
comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡
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“where's my baby?”
those three words kept echoing all throughout the compound this morning. most of the team were up and awake to welcome bucky, steve, and sam who just arrived home from their week long mission.
but his baby was missing.
“oh, god. here he goes again.” sam shook his head, fatigue written all over his face, but a bit of amusement from bucky's behaviour still shining through. he couldn't deny how admirable bucky's adoration for you was.
“calm down, punk." steve pat his shoulder reassuringly. “i'm sure she's here somewhere.”
“yeah, but where?” bucky asks again. “i haven't seen her for a week. i miss her.”
“you think he remembers her name?" clint jokingly asked.
“she has multiple names, remember?” tony answered. “baby, sweetheart, love, sweets, and.. what's the other one? i swear, there's another, or maybe two?”
before one of them could find the answer, bucky popped right in front of them to ask another question.
“is my baby okay?” his brows were all scrunched up, genuinely worried about you. “did you tell her i was coming home? i told her before we took off. why isn't she here? she's always—”
“okay, lover boy. your baby is alright, she's still sleeping in your room, i think.” tony answered him, finally calming him down. “and can you call her by her name when it's just us around? we're starting to think that you forgot what her actual name is."
“what? she's my only baby, it's not that hard to figure it out." bucky shrugged, causing at least three of the avengers to run their hands through their face at his answer. “and why is she still asleep? is she sick?"
natasha raised her hand, a guilty smile on her face. “i'm the reason for that. i made her stay up late with me last night to watch five seasons of a show we discovered accidentally,” she explained, a proud smile now replacing her guilty one. “she might be a little cranky from the lack of sleep, so you better have something for her when she wakes up.”
“oh, i do.” bucky grinned like he already knew what to give her and was prepared for it. “all of you might want to leave the tower for the entire day if you don't want to hear me giving it to her.”
what used to be the shouts of bucky looking for you were now replaced with the grunts and complaints of the team because of bucky's answer.
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if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌
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gutsby · 12 hours
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Benign
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Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Marrying a former Soviet sleeper agent was your first mistake. Letting curiosity get the better of you and saying his trigger words before sex was your second.
Warnings: 18+. DUBCON - Bucky is partly brainwashed; R is reluctant at first. Reliving past trauma (i.e., grief, prior HYDRA captivity). Rough, unprotected p-in-v.
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Marrying into the mob meant one of two things: turning a blind eye to your husband’s crimes or taking them up as your own. Most of the women who had gone before you chose the former, leading lives of willful ignorance while their spouses cut deals, shed blood, stole guns, and submitted only to the laws of secrecy and discretion.
You, unlike those wives, hadn’t had the luxury of choice.
Your life, unlike theirs, had been sold to a man you didn’t know, by a father you couldn’t stand, and now your dad was dead, and this man—your husband—was to blame.
The least Bucky could do was fuck you hard to say sorry.
But no, ever since the Winter Soldier had reared its ugly head that dreadful night in Madripoor two weeks prior, your husband hadn’t laid one finger on your body that was not soft, sweet, and sickeningly apologetic to you. He seemed almost scared to initiate sex, and when he did, couldn’t help but act like a touch might break you.
After all, one almost had. Those hands he’d hear you beg and plead to put on you now were the very same ones he’d used to kill dozens, if not hundreds, including blood of your own blood. To the world, Bucky’s reputation commanded fear. To his wife, now, he felt duly obliged to prove he was more—that you were safe with him, not from him. He’d carted you off to every GP, hematologist, nutritionist, and grief specialist lauded among Brooklyn’s elite to make that happen. Fast. Frankly, these days, the thought of fucking was the furthest thing from his mind.
Unbeknownst to Bucky, somewhere along the spectrum of grief, you’d already come to settle comfortably at the ‘Need-to-be-fucked-until-I-can-no-longer-think-or-feel’ phase, and every bone in your body was crying out for respite in the form of ruthless, mind-numbing sex. It didn’t make sense. You hardly knew what to do with it. You should have lashed out, shut down, cried rivers and lakes of tears for that integral part of family that had been lost, but for whatever reason, you had to go numb.
You wanted to do something really, really fucking dumb.
Remorseful as he was, Bucky and his explanations for who or what the Winter Soldier was had been sparse. He’d told you that he had once been held in captivity by HYDRA, had his brain re-wired some way to make him a merciless Soviet sleeper agent, and that the night in Madripoor was the first in ages he had been ‘activated.’ How did activation happen? Of course, he wouldn’t tell.
But Steve would.
Steve had told you everything you wanted to know about your soldat, describing in painstaking detail how he worked, trained, operated, and could be called to action. You were almost certain Rogers had said it all as a way to assure you that it wasn’t Bucky who’d killed your father—it was someone inside him. You were more than positive Steve had never intended for you to use his intel like this.
You hadn’t believed him. Couldn’t believe him. How the fuck could someone sever all ties to their conscious mind and just transform anew into a killer? You got to be hell-bent on knowing for certain whether it’d been Bucky or him, it, whatever the hell the Winter Solider was, and on knowing it now. If your husband was faking it all and simply using this persona to justify the killing, that would be it. Trust gone, marriage over. If he wasn’t, well…you hadn’t gotten that far into your own line of thinking.
“Tell me what you want, doll,” Bucky said, pulling you back to the present.
He shifted gently against you, cotton trousers raising the friction a little as he slotted between your legs. He was still dressed head-to-toe from his meeting that morning.
“I want you to fuck me. Make me cum. Please.”
You were bare, save for one small scrap of linen and lace that somehow passed as a nightie. Your gaze was soft.
Bucky didn’t want to say no, but he also felt too guilty to say yes. The way you were watching him now, eyes so helpless and pleading, body writhing for contact, he knew you didn’t want his touch so much as needed it. Desperately. Couldn’t bear to be burdened with grief so you brushed it aside, to the furthest recesses of your mind until all that was left was desire. Starvation, really.
He could satiate you for now, but that hunger might not ever leave. The corners of his lips twitched into a frown.
“Gentle?” he mumbled.
“Rough,” you countered.
“Baby—”
“I really don’t need another fucking lecture on death, Bucky. I know I’m not myself right now, but I can still make these decisions, okay? Don’t talk to me like I can’t.”
Anger flashed in your eyes for a second, then indignation, then nothing. Without much energy left, you pushed him away. Flopped back on the bed and, seeming to sink into yourself, heaved a low, feeble sigh.
“I know. Hey,” Bucky leaned over to press a touch to your tummy, and it made you want to hurl, “I’m sorry.”
You turned onto your side.
“You still don’t remember what happened?”
The question came suddenly, almost from somewhere outside your body, it seemed. For the hundredth time.
“No,” Bucky answered, for what felt like the thousandth.
“This Winter Soldier—”
“He isn’t me.”
“You didn’t know?”
“Couldn’t know. Wasn’t…programmed for it.”
Bucky was watching you now, eyes as contrite as they’d ever been while you rehashed this subject to the brink of tears. He never could stay composed when he saw you cry.
“Baby…” he started, arms reaching out for you.
Eyes still filling with tears, you shook your head and swatted him off. You sat up, and your brows pinched together in a look he couldn’t read. Contemplating.
At last, you made up your mind.
You would try something new—and really, really stupid:
“Zhelaniye.”
“What?”
Bucky’s own expression contorted with uncertainty.
“—semnadtsat, rzhaviy, rasvet—”
He heard that. He immediately wished he hadn’t.
“Wait—”
You were curious. You had no idea what you were doing.
“Baby, baby, stop—”
“—pech, devyat—”
You were speaking so fast, surely it wouldn’t work like that. Either way, he had to stop you. He seized your arms, giving a sharp, deliberate shake, pupils blown to the size of saucers in his eyes. There wasn’t much time.
“Don’t—”
“—adin—”
No time at all.
“—dothisdon’tfuckingdothishoneyplease.”
Losing himself already. Feeling it stir inside his mind.
“—dobroserdechniy—”
‘Kind-hearted.’ ‘Benign’. You truly had no clue what these words were liable to do, much less what they meant.
Having enunciated this last part, you swallowed. Took the tip of your tongue and rolled it left-to-right across the backs of your teeth, waiting for your speech to take effect like some magical performance before your eyes.
It hadn’t, it seemed. You blinked. He blinked. You sat in a protracted silence for what seemed like seventeen years, and presently, your stomach began to churn. Nothing happened—you’d been right about this fuckery all along.
Then you remembered one last word of the sequence.
Faintly, you said:
“Soldat.”
The man above you straightened. Sitting. Stiff. Still perched by your legs at a comfortable distance but regarding you now with a pointed stare. Expectancy made manifest in a simple, sharp glare from his eyes to yours.
“...Bucky?”
The look on his face grew even harder. For a time, he persisted in that strange and silent grimace, and just when you started to suspect he was faking this whole demeanor of deadened stoicism, you heard a voice. Clawing out of his throat but sounding nothing like him:
“Who the hell is Bucky?”
The words drove a fear to the greatest depths of your bones, and you hardly knew why. You stared back at the handsome, barren man still watching you with severity, and you couldn’t seem to find your husband anywhere.
“James?” You weren’t sure why you tried his name again. You just didn’t know what else to say.
The scowl seeped into his mouth, and he frowned.
“James,” he repeated, like the word was foreign to him.
You found yourself shuffling back on the bed just then—to what, you didn’t know. You just felt a gnawing need to put some space between you and this person, this glowering face, however you could. When he grabbed your ankle, you let out a startled sound, and when he followed you up on the bed, you did more than just whimper; you lifted your leg to knee him directly in the stomach. He caught it.
Then he stared again, expression bloodless and wan.
“You’re scaring me, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you tried to free your leg from his fist—grip unusually strong.
The man paused another moment, if only to soak in your words and let his gaze trail over your face. Your exertions did not register. And, for the very first time, you felt as though you were something more like a plaything in your husband’s eyes—not a full-fledged human being but a system to be gamed. The feeling was so unsettling that you had to turn away.
Or try to, anyway.
Craning your neck just far enough to spy your phone on the nightstand, your first thought was Steve; he would know what to do. But before you could even think to twist and lift your body in that direction, you felt a hand yank you to the bed, flat on your back. You looked up at Bucky and found yourself caged between two arms. He lowered himself to his elbows, shifted his weight to one side, and seemed not to notice your movements at all when you tried to slide away. The man just splayed his hand across your stomach and pressed it firmly. Stay.
You weren’t one to shy away from a challenge—or keep hope alive against the odds. You put your hand over his.
“James—”
“Zhena.”
The abruptness of Bucky’s word stole the rest of yours. You cocked a brow and followed his gaze to your hand.
To the gaps between your fingers, then the touch that fanned across them to settle on one digit in particular.
Bucky thumbed at the diamond and smiled. He smiled.
“Zhena,” he repeated.
You blinked.
“I— you...gave me that, Bucky. You did.”
He hummed in acknowledgment.
Bucky stared at the ring for what could’ve been five seconds or several years, and then he did something unexpected. He shifted his touch to the bodice of your dress—again, if you could even call it that—and he began to tug at the satin bow situated between your breasts.
Of course, this nightie being designed for honeymoons and supremely easy access, it didn’t take much effort at all for the folds of your dress to come apart. Your breasts spilled out of the fabric without so much as a hint of protest, your torso was quick to become fully exposed, and suddenly, shortly, your hands were fumbling at your chest in an effort to regain some smidgen of modesty. Your husband just shook his head, following your hands.
“Moya zhena,” he said, a touch more emphasis and fervor to the first of the two words.
Now it was you who was shaking your head. Trying to pry his touch away as you slid up the bed. When he followed, you saw the icy expression had been supplanted by intrigue and, though you still felt ill at ease, you couldn’t deny you were curious to know what he was thinking. Who was thinking it? Soft, plush lips swiftly replaced his hands, and before you even knew what he was doing, Bucky, or someone, was latching onto your left breast. Using teeth to graze the hardened nub and send a ripple of thick, guilty pleasure coursing through you.
You whimpered. Bucky groaned.
Your fingers slotted through his hair with every intention of pushing him away, but when you tried, he just flicked his tongue and made another delicious sound against you.
You pushed with even more force, and he groaned again.
Not Bucky, not Bucky, not him, you have to—
“Stop!” you cried.
A set of soft, warm baby blues darted up to meet you.
Some flicker of recognition seemed to cross them, too.
“Honey?”
You almost lurched toward the sound. It was Bucky.
Suddenly, your hands were making fists in the collar of his crisp white button-up, and you were trying to yank him up. You murmured his name in disbelief, relief, and gathered him up in your arms to pull him in for a kiss.
The lips that met you were soft for a moment—just one.
Then the teeth reappeared. Harsh, jarring, biting. You jerked back at the sensation, and when you found his face again, it seemed your husband was lost to you all over. The eyes were attentive still—nowhere near as cold and aloof as they had been before—but they did not radiate the same warmth and admiration that Bucky’s always did. You almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He was gone, just like that, and there was nothing you could do to stop it from happening.
A broad palm cupped your cheek to bring you in for another kiss, and you weren’t sure if you should indulge. It didn’t seem you had much choice anyway, because the lips that were seeking yours were hungry. Starved. Searing into your mouth with a force you couldn’t refuse.
But something inside you wanted to find Bucky again.
Somewhere inside this stranger was lying dormant a trace of your husband; you’d seen it yourself, if only for a second. It made you curious. Where had he gone? What did he do when forced to retreat into this strange, preprogrammed being, and how could you get him back?
“Bucky,” you mumbled, more of a plea than a moan.
You were kissed harder than you had been in a long time. You didn’t have to think, or do, or breathe one puff of air that this man didn’t account for. His tongue wedged a gaping space in your wet, welcoming mouth for him to fill, and somehow, you didn’t feel the urge to protest. A familiarity in the way he kissed almost put you at ease, and when his body lifted slightly, yours lifted with it.
Before long, Bucky was sitting. Kneeling between your legs with an eye to your soft, shaking torso. You’d barely even come to notice just how hard you were breathing until you felt a palm on your stomach again. There was an oddly calming insinuation in that one simple touch.
And again, he smiled. Brighter than before.
“Nashe?” He sounded eager as he said it.
You peered up at him and raised an eyebrow in question. Perhaps you should’ve felt more exposed; after all, you were sitting half-naked with your husband’s assassin alter ego stroking your stomach and beaming over you, eyeing you expectantly, and you didn’t know what to say. Apart from the short set of words Steve had taught you, you were totally clueless to Russian, and you weren’t quite sure you were in a place to ask Bucky to translate.
When it seemed words might never come, the gleaming teeth above you were shrouded in a tighter, close-lipped smile, and Bucky nodded. Appearing to understand. Instead of forcing a response from you, he just let his hand migrate down your belly, fingers tracing the skin, then settle comfortably—momentarily—at the crest of your pubic bone. Then he pressed the heel of his palm into the place residing right below it, and without really meaning to, you moaned. A quiet maelstrom of pleasure circled low in your abdomen, threatening to draw noises from your throat you weren’t planning to make with every gentle gyration of Bucky’s lower hand.
You had to purse your lips to contain the sounds.
Again, he nodded.
“It’s okay,” he said, so quiet he almost couldn’t be heard.
He let the friction continue for a while like that: just palming you, watching you react to the simplest of motions against your swollen, aching clit and try not to writhe. At length, you squirmed a little bit. Bucky seemed to want to wait for something to happen, and when you bucked your hips, a look in his eye said that was enough.
He lowered himself between your legs. Shoulders bumping your thighs as he spread them apart, chest rising and falling in measured breaths, and lips smiling all the while. You sucked in a breath when his face came to rest just a few inches shy of your bare, aching warmth.
“Bucky?”
The man looked up at you and blinked.
“Yeah, honey?”
One thumb traced over the seam of your cunt, and your back nearly arched off the bed. There he was, again, gaze safe and secure to yours and hands moving in tandem as they always would. His tongue calmly followed suit. When you fisted his hair, he blinked once more and then directed his attention back to your wet, warm, velvety folds with a pointed look and a purpose.
The sound that escaped you next could hardly be classed as anything less than a scream, but the soft and unperturbed demeanor of the man between your legs showed he hadn’t noticed at all. He just sucked diligently—damn near dutifully—on your clit with a vigor you’d never felt, and when you yanked at his hair, he hummed.
It was like his lips had been trained for perfect suction; that was how well and thoroughly he descended upon your swollen little bud. An airtight kiss and a quick flick of his tongue, paired with his hot and heavy breaths fanning over your cunt, sent your senses into overdrive. Your toes curled inward, your throat let loose a gasp, and without fully realizing it, your walls were clamping down, pulsing and leaking out desire for more of this touch.
Then, without warning, Bucky brought a hand to the throbbing and slick cunt that was presently clenching around nothing, and he fed it two fingers. So forceful and deep he nearly buried his knuckles right along with them. Then he started scissoring those two fingers, sharply.
“Open, milaya,” he said. Again, it wasn’t entirely Bucky.
But you felt a faint remembrance there. You didn’t want him to stop. Maybe you were led astray by the gentle laps of his tongue or the prodding of his fingertips, or perhaps there was something stubbornly familiar about the way he was touching you now. You couldn’t tell.
All you knew was that both of your hands were holding tight to his head and begging him, wordlessly, for more.
Your moans rang all the way through the bedroom in your new, far-too-big penthouse apartment in Brooklyn, down the hall, reverberating through every inch of the space until all that could be heard were your sounds and his and the delectable little noises of your bodies working together. Bucky hadn’t even stirred to pleasure himself.
You wanted that part to change.
With your hip pinned to the mattress and Bucky’s tongue laving over your clit in ruthlessly quick movements, you probably would’ve liked to cum all over his mouth and fingers, but you wanted to see him pleased even more.
Just when he’d worked a third finger inside you and was driving you close to your peak, you pushed him away.
Bucky parted from your folds with a glistening chin and two furrowed eyebrows, clearly frustrated to have been torn from his mission before you reached completion, but you wouldn’t let that look linger for long. You used your leverage in his hair—however slight, comparatively, that grip might have been—to pull him up on the bed.
Bucky surprised you with just how swiftly he moved.
His steel-blue gaze was on yours in a second, equally penetrating and soft.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Nothing—”
“My baby okay?”
He surprised you again; this time by how quick his demeanor was to shift the second he sensed something was wrong. Just like Bucky. It had to be him in there.
You nodded, still out of breath from the wonders he’d been working with his tongue. You squeezed his arm and tried to coax him toward you, to help him lower his body some, and when he seemed uncertain, you offered a smile. It’s okay to touch, you won’t break anything.
Bucky eyed you skeptically, but it was clear he was more wary of himself than of you. He glanced over your body, briefly to his, then slowly, apprehensively, sank down.
“Just fine,” you mumbled, hooking your legs around his back the second his chest was close enough to yours.
You felt an uptick in his heartbeat when your heels dug a little more firmly into the waistband of his pants. While your hands started working their way toward the front of that fabric, wedging clumsily between your bodies, his gaze flitted to yours, and his brows drew even tighter together. He didn’t try to stop you, but he certainly seemed confused as to why you wanted to include him so soon. Why you cared to show concern for him at all.
You noticed that then, and in just about every moment preceding, the man was taken aback by kindness.
Whether it was pulling him closer to you, tugging his pants down with a tender touch, running your fingers across the bulge in his boxers, or simply nodding your head and letting him know it was okay to touch you back, Bucky seemed unaccustomed to any care in this area.
When your fingers made it around his cock and started stroking him, gently, he just might’ve come apart.
His chest shuddered with the inhale of a short, strained breath, and his eyelids fluttered, as if meaning to close.
Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he started to shake his head.
“No, let me—”
“Let me,” you finished for him, wrist flicking back and forth quietly. You paused just to rub a quick touch between your folds, collect some arousal, then return to touching him when he met your eyes again and allowed you to continue. You skimmed his sensitive underside with your palm and let the warmth of him bleed into your fingertips as you worked him up to a comfortable pace.
Bucky rutted into your touch, probably harder than he meant to. Then he planted a hand beside your head and anchored his weight above you so that he was close enough to reach your lips—but he didn’t kiss you.
His expression hardened again, and he forcibly removed himself from the pulse of your fingers. He frowned.
“You want me to fuck you, no? Make you cum?”
He sounded irritated again.
Briefly, you recalled your words from earlier and nodded. It was true, you’d said it to him like that, and you’d meant it. You just couldn’t make sense of what he wanted now.
It seemed Bucky couldn’t wait to indulge you any longer. He fisted his cock in one hand, angled the head just outside of your cunt, and burst in with one thrust.
“Then let me,” he muttered, plunging down to the hilt.
The first go was rough, and the second was no kinder. Bucky’s face screwed up with indifference again, like he wanted to get something out of his brain and just do.
Like there was a task at hand that needed to be finished.
You couldn’t deny it felt fine at first. Fucking edifying after all those horrific thoughts had been eating away at your mind and rousing your own hunger for numbness. The drive of Bucky’s thick girth in and out, in and out repeatedly was no doubt capable of rendering you dumb. But being slammed into and taken so roughly was only good for you when you knew he was feeling good too.
This Bucky was back to being entirely flinty and lifeless—practically devoid of all emotion as he railed into you.
The back of your head was forced into the pillow with the weight of each thrust and Bucky’s thumb pushing into your chin—‘Better, milaya? Is this better for you?’—and frankly, you wanted to push him back and ask the same.
But you couldn’t. The pace he’d set was suffocating, and the stretch of his cock inside you was unusually tough.
Instead, you sank your nails into his arm and mumbled:
“Bucky.”
The man’s thrusts were both stabbing and rhythmic, sending a welt of pleasure blossoming up in your chest. You tried again:
“Bucky.”
He blinked.
And slowed.
“Bucky,” he mumbled back.
Seemingly mindless and mechanical, he snaked a hand behind your head to lift your face and tilt it toward the sight below: his cock splitting you open before him, parting your insides with an easy, welcome glide through the slick of your folds. You watched as your arousal enveloped him fully. Not a single inch of his rock-hard, throbbing shaft was spared; even his balls were soaked. They felt even heavier slapping your ass with each thrust.
“You remember?” you asked, hating how small you sounded.
The man’s nostrils flared, but he gave a curt nod. Expression taut and vigilant, as though anticipating something going wrong at any second. Still, he nodded.
“Years,” he answered.
“Years?”
Since he’d done this? Felt good? Become this way?
No, Bucky was activated in Madripoor just weeks ago. He didn’t look like he was ready to indulge in any ‘feel-good’ pleasure, and you weren’t sure when he’d last been with anyone else before you. Years could mean anything.
You chanced a few soft fingertips up to his cheeks, cupping either side of his clean-shaven face in an effort to anchor you both to one place. The pit of your stomach was reeling with warmth, and friction, and fullness. It took everything in you just to pull him in for a quick, grounding kiss before the feeling gave way to even more.
Bucky’s teeth nicked your bottom lip. He flinched back.
You ignored the sting and repeated his name, murmuring it carefully up to the seal of his mouth as if requesting entry with that word alone.
It seemed to work. Bucky kissed you back with a gentle, albeit guarded, sort of tenderness that made him soften. His thrusts weren’t as rough and punishing as they were before. The dull, throbbing ache between your legs transformed into something sweeter, and your body no longer had to brace itself against strokes that, to you, were nearly bruising and, to Bucky, were just necessary.
For once, your husband let out a soft grunt of pleasure.
“They never let us,” Bucky said as his teeth grit together, “It’s been years.”
“Since what?”
The face above you tempered more—this time with a trace of sadness behind it. He continued to rut into you, but now his thrusts were sloppy, and it seemed as though he were battling against his own pleasure with every motion. He lowered one hand between your legs and began to thumb at your clit, gaze torn from yours.
“Close now?” he muttered.
Ignoring the question you’d asked.
“Years since what?” you pressed anyway. The tiny ripples preceding bliss had already begun to stir inside you, maddeningly, with every flick of his thumb, but your curiosity to know the whole truth was stronger still.
Bucky’s hips were moving at a feverish pace now; his free hand made a fist in the sheets beside your head, and his chest heaved with a series of short, ragged breaths that were no doubt meant to mask his moans as well. Notwithstanding the burn you felt between your legs—he really was much rougher and stronger now, you saw—you cupped his cheek again to tilt his face toward yours.
What you saw made your stomach drop.
Your heart clenched like a fist within the confines of your ribcage, and there it was—that terrible ache you felt each time you saw something awful materialize before you.
Bucky’s eyes were wet with tears. He wouldn’t blink.
He tilted his head into your touch, as if for support, but really, the weight of it signaled to you that he just wanted to feel you. Be assured that you were there. His big, broad arms seemed suddenly unable to hold his weight, and then he sank into your frame with a grunt and another stuttered breath. Like he was ready to collapse.
“Don’t leave again,” he said quietly.
The pain in your chest elevated, in bloom.
“Bucky I didn’t— wasn’t—” you started to say.
The friction between your bodies was almost too much to bear. You couldn’t be sure if you were talking to your husband, soldat, or some strange, inconceivable mixture of the two, but you could tell that this one was desperate.
Pleading.
“I can’t lose you again.”
The head of his cock grazed your most sensitive spot inside, and a whine seeped out through your teeth. Bucky’s whole body was blanketing yours, torso flush with your front and hips working an erratic cadence as he got a glimpse of release himself. He groaned out in pleasure and begged you to stay. You promised that you would. Your legs were still wound around his sides, but both of your bodies were slick with a sheen of sweat; it was hard to hang on. Bucky’s hair was wild and pushed back from his face, but his eyes were clear when they finally met yours, and you heard him mumble again, ‘Please stay.’
You didn’t know what else to say but okay, baby, I will.
You swore you would stay, and in between oaths, your mouth was consumed by a barrage of kisses—Bucky got to feast with a full set of teeth again, primal as ever—and then your climax hit. Euphoria washed over you whole with a force you weren’t expecting to feel, and you couldn’t help but cry out and whine as waves of pleasure coursed straight from the innermost depths of your core.
Bucky’s hips collided with yours in two more stuttered thrusts, and when he bottomed out at the last, you felt a heavy spurt of warmth. A groan coiling out of his chest. Muscles growing lax and two sturdy arms coming to bracket your head as your husband’s whole body weight went folding into yours. You kissed some more, in between frenzied intakes of breaths and steadying moments where you were simply trying to ground your body and get your heart to slow down to a normal rate.
You held each other in silence for a while. Bucky’s head fell next to yours on the pillow when the last of his spend had been emptied, but otherwise, he didn’t stir. At some point, his hands slid behind your back, and the second he hugged you to him, you felt secure in that embrace.
You were probably as far as you’d ever been from understanding who the fuck your husband was, but all it seemed you were capable of feeling for now was pity.
Pity for the years he’d lost to captivity; pity for what was little more than mere existence under HYDRA’s thumb; pity for all the things you still didn’t know about his past.
You held Bucky tighter, and, flooded with this strange, grating emotion and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness, you wished you could protect him, too.
“James?” you mumbled into his hair.
Bucky didn’t respond.
You squeezed his shoulder. Still nothing.
Against your better judgment, you tried to shift yourself underneath his body. You figured you wouldn’t make it far at all, but at least he would be aware that you were trying to get up. Maybe even start to move with you.
He didn’t.
It took everything in you just to wedge an elbow back, struggle to prop yourself up against his weight, and when you were about to let out a huff of an exasperated laugh and tell him, Bucky, you’re crushing me, honey, could you please ease up a little, your request was answered before the words could even leave your mouth.
At the sound of two new muffled voices carrying up from the living room and what appeared to be noises from shuffling feet, Bucky rose straight from the bed, off you.
Your gaze trailed his to the door, and you reached for him.
“Baby, it’s just—”
Bucky was back on his feet. Yanking his boxers and pants up his legs and buckling his belt in no time at all.
The movers. It’s just the movers bringing in furniture—
You moved your hand closer to your husband in the hopes of stalling his movements for half a second, but then a set of ruthless blue eyes had you pinned, quick:
“Stay.”
Your outstretched arm was taken up in a much stronger, stiffer one, and you were suddenly pulled over to Bucky.
But you knew from the eyes it wasn’t him at all.
And you weren’t so much being tugged toward him as you were being hauled to the floor. Thrown on your knees beside the bed, next to Bucky. He was about to leave.
Without thinking, you reached for one of the legs of his trousers and sank your nails into the fabric to hold him in place, to tell him again that there was nothing to see out there but the people you knew, no threat outside at all. But Bucky was deaf to your pleas, it seemed. He shrugged you off easily and made a move for his gun, expression blank, stolid, calm, hardened. Decided.
You tried to rise to your feet but were stopped.
“STAY,” Bucky boomed again, this time an order that he didn’t even deign to complete with a look your way.
If he had—if he even possessed the ability to consider anything but the immediate task at hand—he would’ve seen his own hand knock you to the floor to keep you from standing. Might’ve caught a glimpse of the instant your head struck the edge of the nightstand before you hit the ground. Could’ve even made out the first traces of blood that came trickling out from above your temple. Would’ve seen you cower back, viscerally, out of fear.
But holding the side of your head and watching him leave, grim realization twisted at the pit of your stomach, and you knew the man wouldn’t have stopped if he had.
If your soldat’s objective was to protect you from any harm lurking outside that door, real or illusory, nothing you were capable of doing now could stop that. At expense to yourself, at expense to him, at expense to whatever lives stood between the Winter Soldier and that unwavering, hardwired goal, he still would not ever stop.
Thinking of new, innocent lives in the balance, now, you scrambled for your phone the next second to call Steve.
You tried him once. Twice. A third time crawling on your knees, then standing, then staggering over to the door and pulling the phone from your ear just to send a string of texts to your friend while the thing continued to ring.
SOS
Need help
Pick up please
Bucky’s stuck and he’s
About to hurt people here
A crash sounded outside. You hurried to the door. Your hand closed around the knob and tried to turn it. The handle turned freely, but something behind it was refusing to let you leave the room. You pressed again.
“Bucky!”
Your cry was useless in the face of the barricade outside.
You pushed your shoulder and, behind it, the whole force of your weight against it anyway, trying to get out.
The line went dead. You tried again.
Now with your phone to one ear and the bedroom door taking the brunt of your hits from the other, bleeding side of your body, you scarcely heard much of anything else. The ring started. Stopped. Began again when you pressed a shaky finger to Steve’s contact name, and continued in a cycle for some time while you tried to force whatever was on the other side of the door away.
The second a voice broke through the haze of your frantic, half-crazed state of consciousness, you cried:
“STEVE!”
“Mrs. Barnes?”
You were shocked to hear a woman on the other end. Your pulse was still racing, shoulder aching from the impact of each desperate push you’d been forcing against the door, and then you stopped. Another loud something sounded down the hallway, further away, but you were too startled and unnerved to take any note of it.
You started to ask, ‘Where’s Steve?’ when the voice continued:
“This is Mrs. Barnes?”
“Yes,” you answered woodenly.
You held the phone as close to your ear as you could, but still, the woman’s words were coming in and out in bursts. You must’ve mistakenly accepted the call when trying to reach Steve—you couldn’t think right now; could barely retract the phone far enough to see a strange number displayed on the screen. You swallowed.
“—from Lenox Hill Hospital at Northwell Health—”
The high-rise medical center on the Upper East Side you’d visited that week. Bucky had wanted you tested for nutritional deficiencies and anemia, of all fucking things.
“—if you had a moment or two to chat and maybe—”
No, you needed Steve, not this outpatient courtesy call.
You would’ve liked to hang up. Should’ve hung up. In fact, your fingers were practically itching to hit the button the whole time the nurse was speaking to you, but something in you just couldn’t be persuaded to do it. It took several more seconds before your senses began to creep back, and by then, when you were about to drop the call, you heard a phrase that stopped you on a dime.
“—but the doctor advises prenatal vitamins—”
“What?” you snapped, far more harshly than you meant.
The nurse paused a beat, whether from incredulity at how rude you’d just sounded or to consider something. When she resumed, she sounded a little more guarded.
“Yes…Dr. Watkins did reach out to you about your bloodwork from your last visit, didn’t she? I thought—”
“No,” you said, rushed and painfully brusque, again. You tried to rein in your tone some before continuing, “She didn’t—didn’t reach out about anything. What vitamins?”
Another pause.
“Prenatals.”
You hated that she gave you another second to chew on that word before taking a breath and pressing on.
“I’m terribly, terribly sorry to be the one to spring that on you, Mrs. Barnes—I thought you knew…um—” The nurse was sheepish now, almost embarrassed to be speaking, “—you’re about…three weeks along in your pregnancy.”
Three weeks along.
Advised prenatal vitamins.
For the child growing inside of you.
A rivulet of blood trickled into your left eye.
Your whole body was apt to convulse, but it didn’t.
You hung up.
Taglist: (please lmk if I missed anyone! I can only tag 50 at a time so will continue in a separate post) @vicmc624 @she-could-never @mcira @kentokaze @identity2212 @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx @stinkerbelle007 @opibarnes @wilsons-striped-ties @desigirlxx @pono-pura-vida @geminiflanagansblog @buggy14 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @minimarvelingmarvel @kunakizen @ghostiebby06 @blackhawkfanatic @dameron-grantspector @sushiseoks @deansapplepie @mrsjoequinn @gyokujyn @lunaroserites @first-edition @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi @excusememrbarnes @daisychainsoflove @mostlymarvelgirl @diannana @shawnberry @yujyujj @urmomsalex @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @athenabarnes @christinabae @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast @wintrsoldrluvr @bethbunnyy @i-heart-smut @aagn360 @dahliawolfe @fantasyfootballchampion @lilyevanstan1325 @kandis-mom @thealyrs
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purple-babygirl · 3 days
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don't call me daddy V
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader Word count: 4,660 Summary : In a world where littles are openly themselves, they volunteer to help and be helped by willing caregivers. In spite of himself, Bucky finds himself stuck with one and to keep the nagging away, he has to learn how to be around her with everything that that entails. Warnings: crying, age regression, fluff, a little angst A/N: i would like to give credits for this part and its idea to🦊nonnie because without her ask there might've not been a fifth part to this story. Having said that, i'm thinking this should be the last part of the story because i am out of scenario your girl is empty. but anyway, please enjoy this one and have a tight hug xx💜💜
~
When they arrived back at her house, she was asleep in the passenger seat.
Bucky didn’t want to wake her up. He knew she barely got any sleep last night because of the mean cough she was suffering from and so he carefully carried her inside without a word.
His heart kept speeding up every time he would remember what she called him after taking her shot as he slipped her feet out of her shoes and socks and tucked her in her bed.
He frankly had no idea what he would do if she was to wake up little and if he was ready to be a good daddy to her. What if he messed up again? He seemed to be a pro at that.
Luckily, when she woke up later that night, she was her big self again and didn’t seem to have any recollection of calling Bucky daddy, or if she did, she didn’t mention it.
Bucky gave her her cough syrup and the rest of the meds, helping her go back to sleep as he presumed his place on the floor by her bed.
In a way he couldn’t explain, even her coughs were more comfort than the silence at his house, and definitely more comfort than his nightmares.
It was 12 days of little sleep, a lot of crying, meds, movies and sleepovers until she was fully cured again, and even though Bucky hated that she was sick, those seemed to have been some of the best days he’s ever gotten to live since he’s come back to himself.
He got to laugh with someone, care for someone, comfort someone and enjoy the company of someone. And not just anyone; it was her.
But something was missing still.
Bucky wanted her to call him daddy. More than anything and from the bottom of his heart, he wanted to deserve that name, that role.
What Bucky had noticed in the days he’d stayed at her place was that she had no family pictures at all.
She had framed pictures of friends, of herself, of Corgi, but none of family members.
It didn’t come as a surprise because she’d mentioned it to him before, and he just knew that if he wanted to be her caregiver, her daddy, Bucky had to prove to her that he was nothing like those who’d hurt her. He had to prove himself worthy of taking care of her; set himself apart from them.
And to do that, he had to know more.
“I see no family pictures anywhere,” Bucky spoke as he helped her plant the new tulips she had in place.
“Yeah, we’re not close.” She shrugged, hand stuttering just the tiniest bit in their movements.
“Can I ask why?”
She sighed, “why?”
“I’m trying to learn from the mistakes of others.”
She laughed, “really?”
“Really.”
Oh, this wasn’t a joke?
“You know you don’t have to do that anymore, right?” She couldn’t understand why he would want to try again when the report was handed and he was let off the hook.
“I want to. I really want to.” Bucky wished his gloved hands weren’t muddy as they were so he could touch her face.
He found himself craving physical contact around her more often than not.
“You finally believe in the power of the program?” She teased, keeping her focus on the flowers she was rooting.
“No, I couldn’t care less about the institution and its programs.”
“Not even Mrs. Morrison?” She joked again.
“I’m serious, doll.”
“Why then?” She dropped the bulbs, deciding to face Bucky.
“I want it because it’s you I’ll be daddy to.”
“They never loved me for who I was.” She answered his previous question and Bucky felt a pang at his chest.
He’s made her feel the same way.
He remained silent, not wanting to interrupt her in fear that she might stop.
“I always had to be a certain way, say certain things, act a certain way. Do what we say and then we’ll see if we can love you.”
Bucky might’ve been speechless, but his eyes spoke a million words, begging hers for forgiveness for his ignorant mistakes.
“That’s why it hurt so much when you showed me you didn’t accept the little version of me.”
“I’m so sorry-”
She shook her head, stopping him.
“I’ve been rejected for too long, Bucky, too many times. It took me a good while to finally believe that I was worth loving despite my quirks, ugly parts and possible mistakes. Took too long to teach myself that it didn’t matter if I cried all the time, was too clingy or too talkative; I was still lovable.” She pointed to her chest as she finished her words.
Bucky took his gloves off, pulling her in for a hug, unable to stop himself anymore. He had no words, only anger and remorse raging inside his chest.
“It takes you a while to unlearn stuff you’ve been taught your whole life by the people who were supposed to love you the most.” She whispered into his shirt.
“Doll, I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered back.
“It’s okay.” She looked up at him, “I appreciate you, Bucky, I really do, but I don’t think I’m ready to lose everything I’ve built inside me if you decide in the middle of it that you weren’t fully ready to take on such a responsibility. I forgive you. I promise. But I don’t trust you enough to give up full control of myself and my life to you again. I’m sorry.” She pulled away from the hug, giving Bucky the option to walk away.
“Don’t be. I understand.” He remained in place.
“Are you gonna disappear now?” She wondered with a sad smile.
“No, you’re not getting rid of me so easily.” Bucky returned the smile, putting his gloves back on.
She smiled gratefully, “I don’t wanna lose you either. You’re such a great friend. And I owe you forever for taking care of me those past few days.”
“What if I prove myself to you though?” Bucky asked, dipping a tulip bulb in the soil.
“What?” She tilted her head in confusion.
“What if I show you how serious I am about this and prove myself worthy of you?”
“Bucky, you don’t have to do that. I know you have a life, responsibilities-”
“I want to do it. There’s nothing more important to me right now than this. And you.”
“If you’re doing this just because you can’t accept that you failed the program-”
“I swear on my ma’s soul, I want to do this. Because of you, doll. For you and with you.”
The words died on her tongue as she watched his sincere eyes implore hers.
“Would you give me a chance to prove myself to you? Please?”
“Okay, Bucky.” She swallowed, “one chance.”
“That’s all I need.” Bucky smiled.
~ After their conversation in the garden, Bucky had to go home.
She was not sick anymore and he didn’t have a reason to stick around. He also didn’t want to push her on the matter of regressing, so, respectful of her boundaries, he left.
His heart was heavy when he entered his empty apartment to nothing and no one. Being alone in here wasn’t something he enjoyed anymore.
It has been 2 days of intense research that Bucky has conducted on age regression and partners in little space when she texted him that night.
“Mr. Barnes, can you please come over?”
He wasn’t particularly happy about the fact that he was Mr. Barnes again, but he certainly was happy that she thought to text him when little. This was an improvement and it counted to Bucky.
“Will be right there, doll.” He texted back, running to his motorcycle.
~
Bucky took in a deep breath before knocking at her door, ready to prove himself a suitable daddy.
She opened with teary eyes, making Bucky’s heart sink.
“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asked as he stepped inside.
“I can’t open the pickle jar and now my hands hurt,” she cried, showing him the insides of her palms and how red they were from trying so hard to twist the cap on the glass jar.
She was indeed a little worried that Bucky might find this stupid, that he might yell at her or get upset because she was crying over something minimal in his eyes.
But that wasn’t the case at all. The man was just thankful that she was alright.
“Oh, doll,” Bucky sighed in relief, glad that she wasn’t actually hurt.
Until he remembered that this was a big deal to her. Her hands hurt and she was frustrated because the cap wouldn’t budge.
Moments like these definitely required a daddy.
“I thought Mr. Barnes could help,” she sniffled, her hand wiping under her nose, “metal arm.” She touched his gloved hand.
Bucky chuckled, taking the pickle jar out of her hand, “what if I can do it without the metal arm? What would you give me in return?”
“The biggest pickle?” She offered, wiping her tears away from her eyes, her crying stopping at once.
Bucky laughed at her innocence, “no, I want something else, doll.”
She tilted her head expectantly.
What could Mr. Barnes possibly want? Did he want the whole jar? Would he at least leave her one pickle? She was craving pickles-
“I want you to start calling me Bucky again. No more Mr. Barnes. Can you do that for me, doll?”
Oh, that was something she could do.
“Only if you can open the jar with your not metal hand,” she challenged, her little mind amazed by the idea because look at her hand! It had red marks all over when she tried opening that jar.
“You got it,” Bucky said, easily twisting the cap on the jar open, making her mouth open with it.
“Woah,” she whispered as Bucky handed her the jar with a laugh.
“You’re welcome, doll.” He smiled, watching her chew on a crunchy pickle.
“Thank you, Bucky.” She smiled back, offering him a big pickle.
Bucky’s nerves tingled, knowing he was one step closer to her and his desired title.
~
Moving forward, Bucky learned to distinguish between her big self and little self through texts.
Her little self would always talk about him and herself in third person.
Plus, her big self always needed help with bigger things like needing Bucky to fix her sink or look at her car, knowing he might burn down the city if she went back to asking Adam for help with those things.
Her little self, on the other hand, would need help with the lighter things, the sweeter things. She would call asking for help with Corgi, something too high on a shelf or even just wanting Bucky’s company.
Tonight was one of those nights.
It was thundering more than usual and Bucky had wanted to go and be with her, but he didn’t want to invade her privacy.
But then she called and her scared voice saying his name had Bucky moving even before she uttered the words.
He was proud that she now knew that he was just only one call away; that he would come running whenever she needed. She could finally count on him to be there for her and he couldn’t be more contented.
He knew that consistency was important in relationships, especially one where she was little.
“Hey, doll, it’s okay. It’s just a little thunder,” Bucky cooed, rubbing her back as she let him inside.
“I’m not scared anymore now that Bucky is here.” She smiled, her breathing visibly slowing down.
“Well, I’m staying the night so you have nothing to worry about,” he chuckled, following her to the bedroom.
“Bucky covered his motorcycle?” she asked, worried his vehicle would get ruined.
“Leave that for now, we’ll hose it down together tomorrow when it’s sunny.”
“Corgi loves the hose,” she spoke out the first thought that came to her mind and Bucky loved it, laughing heartily at her comment.
The dog’s ears perked at the sound of his name, jumping at Bucky’s feet as soon as he entered the bedroom, waiting for his share of pets.
He bent down to give the dog some love when he heard her sigh.
“Corgi loves Bucky too.” She smiled shyly, internally wishing her name was Corgi.
“Bucky loves Corgi right back,” Bucky whispered, leaning in to kiss her forehead.
She only smiled bigger, running to her bed and getting under the covers.
When Bucky got down to sleep on the floor that night, however, she slipped off her bed and right next to him.
“Doll, the floor is too cold for you. Sleep on your bed, come on.” Bucky sat up, wanting to help her up on the bed again but she wouldn’t move.
“Wanna be next to Bucky,” she said with a pout.
“But-”
“I know Bucky can’t sleep on beds. It’s okay. Doll will sleep here,” she told him, squeezing Wolfie in her arms.
Bucky’s heart fluttered and it made his mind light up with an idea only a true daddy would have.
“Do you wanna build a fort?” He suggested and her face instantly beamed with a smile as she nodded.
Of course she did!
That night as Bucky gathered all of her soft blankets to make her a floor mattress inside a fort full of fluffy pillows, he knew he was smitten.
This girl had him head over heels for her and there was nothing in the world that he wouldn’t do just to see her smile.
“Can Bucky please tell me a story?”
“Sure, doll. Do you have any books I can read to you from?”
“I have books that big me likes but I don’t want those.”
“What would you like then?”
“I want a story that is Bucky’s. Tell me a story you didn’t tell anyone at the institution.”
Oh, she was jealous. The thought made Bucky smile as he pulled the covers up to her neck to make sure she was warm down on the floor.
“Okay, you ready?” Bucky asked, dimming the lights in her room.
She made herself comfortable under the covers, big eyes watching Bucky’s handsome grin as the cozy atmosphere he’s created comforted her through the storm, “ready.”
“Once upon a time, there was a small idiot who picked up fights with boys much bigger than himself. His name was Steve…”
Bucky fell asleep with his hand stroking her hair, watching her soft breaths leave her chest that night without abruptly waking up in the middle of it for the first time in forever.
~
Bucky didn’t know what it was like to be her, but he was going to do his best to put himself in her shoes like she’d previously tried.
She deserved to be fully and entirely understood.
He witnessed a glimpse of her feelings towards the concept of family a couple of times when they would watch movies like The Lion King or Lilo and Stitch.
She didn’t seem to be affected by the death of Mufasa even though he knew her to be a very sensitive little. She was sad for Simba, of course, but not for Mufasa’s demise. Similarly with Lilo and Stitch, she didn’t care much about the concept of the family.
There was an actual barrier separating her from experiencing any positive feelings that came with the idea of family. Because she had none to associate with hers.
With some more research, Bucky managed to find a few animated movies that didn’t seem to revolve around the idea of family love and how family was everything and whatnot.
One of those movies was The Willoughbys. The movie depicted how neglecting some parents can be and that 2 people loving each other and getting married didn’t necessarily mean they would love their children too.
It was a very unique movie and Bucky was actually happy they could make such movies nowadays.
When the song I Choose You started playing in the movie, Bucky felt her small hand squeezing into a fist.
He silently wrapped his hand around hers, offering quiet comfort and support.
He looked down to see tears in her innocent eyes as she showed her feelings for the first time during one of their movie nights.
 “Bucky chooses me?” she croaked, lip trembling as she cried.
“Bucky chooses you, doll. Wholeheartedly.” Bucky reassured, bringing her knuckles to his lips.
“I choose Bucky, too.” She pulled him down by one cheek to leave a kiss on the other.
Bucky froze.
It was the first time she’s kissed him since he applied that cream on her burnt hand back at his house. She did it on her own, too.
“And I choose Corgi,” she said, running her fingers through the hair of the puppy sleeping soundly on her lap.
“That’s right, and Corgi chooses you. Family doesn’t have to be the ones you were born with, doll,” Bucky told her as he wiped her tears away, “you can choose the family you want for yourself”.
“Thank you, Bucky.” She hugged him tight, afraid he might not be real and that this moment is all made up.
“You’re welcome, doll.” Bucky kissed the side of her head as they pulled away.
“Can I choose Adam, too?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper as she gauged Bucky’s reaction.
She could actually hear his chest rumble with a low “argh” before he nodded despite himself, making her giggle.
“Don’t worry. I only have one Bucky.” She reassured, slinging her arm around Bucky’s metal one.
One daddy, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. She was still scared.
~
Bucky knew that she needed her own independent time alone sometimes even when little, and he would allow her just that, texting throughout the day just to make sure she was okay, reminding her to drink water and take care of herself.
But there was one particularly hard weekend when she felt real down about some of her plants dying as the storm took them out of the ground.
When she opened the door she was clearly disheveled, hair all messy and looking like it hadn’t been brushed all week.
“Hey, doll,” Bucky spoke gently as he closed the door behind him.
She quickly ran into his arms, needing the comfort more than anything, “my plants are dead and Corgi peed on my new carpet and my hair doesn’t smell like shampoo anymore and I’m-”
Damn. She was spiraling. She just slipped out of his hug and on the floor. Oh no.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here now and I got you, okay?” Bucky tried his best to reassure her, getting on his knees before her to look into her eyes.
“Okay,” she hiccupped, nodding even though she wasn’t fully convinced.
“What happened to the plants?” Bucky wanted to handle her concerns one at a time.
“My apple trees were pulled out of place because of the storm,” she started sobbing again as she remembered what had happened to her hard word.
“Okay, okay, tell you what, I’ll put them back in place, okay?”
“Really?” She sniffed.
“Really.” Bucky smiled kindly.
“Okay.” She nodded, trying to control her breathing.
“And we’ll throw the new carpet in the washing machine, and keep Corgi in his playpen with pee pads,” Bucky gave her the steps of how the day was going to go, leading her by the hand to where Corgi was.
“Okay.” She nodded again, her tears ceasing.
“And while the carpet is being washed, I’ll help you wash your hair. Does that sound okay?” Bucky asked her permission, wanting to make sure she was completely comfortable.
“Yes.” She was finally smiling again as well.
“Okay, let’s get you in here,” Bucky told the puppy before placing him inside his playpen.
He spread a few sheets on which the dog could pee if needed before collecting the affected mat.
“Let’s take this to the washing machine,” Bucky voiced his movements, wanting to put her at ease as he kept her hand in his and walked with her to the bathroom.
“In you go.” Bucky threw the rug inside the washing machine along with some detergent.
“Now what do we do?” He asked her, wanting to keep her out of her head.
“Wash doll’s hair?” She asked with half a smile.
“That’s right, get in there.” Bucky tilted his head towards the bathtub with a smile.
And for some reason, it was different this time. He didn’t feel all weird seeing her naked. Maybe it was because he knew her better this time and was familiar with her in more ways than one that such intimacy didn’t startle him. He wasn’t sure, but Bucky wasn’t complaining, only grateful as she closed her sweet eyes and trusted him to wash her hair for her.
~
“Alright, show me how it’s done,” Bucky encouraged, instructing her to whip her hair to the front so he could wrap the towel around it.
She did as told with a giggle, dangling her hair before her and letting Bucky wrap it up the best he could.
“Off to the couch.” Bucky chuckled as he watched her skip in her cashmere bathrobe to her couch.
Later after Bucky has brushed her hair for her, he helped her get dressed and they went outside together to replant the fallen apple saplings the wind had knocked down just like he promised.
The smile on her face was new and unmatched as she watched Bucky handle her plants with care.
“Thank you, Bucky.” She hugged him close, hardly wanting to let go as they stood in the middle of her garden.
Bucky was now rooted in her heart just like the plants in her gardens were in their soil.
She didn’t think she could be away from him anymore. She didn’t want to be away from him anymore.
“Daddy, I’m hungry,” she whispered timidly as they started walking back to the house.
“What do you want on your piz- what did you say?” Bucky stopped in his tracks.
“I’m hungry.” She bit her lip and looked away quickly, hesitant now that his eyes were on her.
“Before that, doll.” Bucky brought her eyes back to his by her chin.
“D-daddy?”
Bucky smiled a smile that reached his eyes as they lit up with gratitude. He couldn’t believe he was finally hearing that word.
“Daddy’s thinking pizza, doll. Sound okay?”
Her face glowed up with her own smile as she witnessed Bucky, with full commitment, refer to himself as daddy.
She nodded, knowing this was going to be the most delicious pizza she was ever going to eat.
~
“What is daddy thinking?” she asked when she noticed his eyes on her, slipping a loose strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear.
“Just thinking about all the things you make me feel, doll.” He smiled, turning his face to kiss her hand before it left his face.
Her face started heating up as she retracted her hand, tingles spreading all over her, “things like what?”
“You make me feel like there’s still good in this world. Like I’m worth patience and kindness and maybe even… love,” Bucky voiced his feelings, eyes dreamy as they watched her pretend to be focused on organizing her stuffies’ seats on the floor.
“You are, daddy,” she replied sincerely, hurting inside that Bucky might doubt this even a little.
“I can’t believe I was so horrible to you, doll.” Bucky’s sigh came out hot from his chest, holding so much regret.
“That’s in the past, daddy. Doll doesn’t think about it no more.” She smiled, her littler hand covering his own lovingly before giving a soothing squeeze.
“You’re just perfect, aren’t you?” Bucky held her hand up and gave the back of it a noisy kiss.
She laughed, face heating up more at the sweet attention, “no body’s perfect, remember?”
Bucky tried to continue laughing with her but he was still kicking himself for what he did to her during her visit to his house.
“How did you even tolerate me back then, doll? I was the worst.” Bucky covered his face with his hands as he threw his head back, laying on his back on the floor full of shame.
“That’s not true. You just misunderstood me and that happens!” She was quick to defend him, refusing the idea that he would even criticize himself, “daddy is the best.”
“I know, but it still gave me no right to treat you the way I did.” Bucky’s eyes teared up at the memories of his very mean words and actions, “I made you cry a lot.” He struggled to forgive himself for that one.
“Daddy, I forgave you, I swear,” she promised, her hands cradling his full cheeks.
She felt like her heart might stop from sadness if Bucky was to cry right now.
“I’m really sorry. I’m really really sorry, doll.” Bucky’s eyes were sincere, holding so much emotion in them that she felt her own begin to fill up with tears.
“Daddy, you don’t need to apologize no more,” she whispered, doing her best to hold back tears.
“You have made me the luckiest man on earth by accepting me as your caregiver, your daddy, and you’ve taught me so much, doll.” Bucky actually started crying, a lot of held-inside feelings coming out at once.
“Daddy.” Her thumb wiped under his eyes gently as she felt her own tears roll down, “don’t say stuff like that”.
“But I need to. Because you did. You taught me unconditional love and acceptance. You taught me what it means to live again. Doll, your patience with my terribleness has taught me that maybe I’m not a hopeless case after all, and that this shell of a man with a metal arm might be capable of things he thought have been wiped from his memory long ago.”
“Daddy, please stop crying,” she sobbed, pressing her forehead to his chin as her attempts at wiping his tears away have proven to be futile.
“I love you so much, doll. I love you with every old bit of me and if you’ll have me…”
“Daddy?” she raised her head, eyes on Bucky’s face, trying to read his expression.
Could Bucky really be asking what she thought he was asking?
“Doll, I want you to be my baby for more than just a few days. Would you give me that honor? Would you let me be your daddy for real?”
“Daddy, are you sure?” she nervously bit her lip.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything more.” Bucky promised.
She nodded frantically, afraid the offer might disappear if she took too long to respond, “yes.”
“Thank you, doll.” Bucky breathed as he pulled her to him, strong arms engulfing her in a protective hug.
“Daddy will not regret it later?” her eyes watched him, a small hint of doubt still tainting her trust.
“Do you like the moon, doll?”
“Yes.” She tilted her head, not understanding the relation between her question and Bucky’s answer.
“You know how our sky only has one moon?”
She nodded.
“My heart is just like that. It can only have one doll no matter how much time passes.”
“Oh.” She sniffled, trying to hold the tears in.
“I love you, doll.” Bucky gave her hair a long kiss.
“I love you, daddy.” She kissed his chest, her arms tightening their hold around him as best as she could, never wanting to be away from him again.
And she wasn’t going to be. Bucky was an idiot who let her go once; never again was he going to make that mistake.
He was blessed with her now and he was going to spend every day of his life proving he was worthy of this blessing.
~
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ellemj · 19 hours
Text
Off-Limits: Ch. 2
Bucky Barnes x Reader: Mafia AU
Read Ch. 1 here.
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Summary: Bucky Barnes took the one thing he couldn't have: you. The only thing is...you didn't even know he'd done it.
Warnings: profanity, possessive!Bucky, mentions of firearms, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 1.9k
A/N: Idk what to say about this chapter so on a more personal note...I had a birthday recently and I'm treating myself by writing more smut, getting pampered, and going to bed on time.
            James Bucky Barnes isn’t used to having to ask for what he wants. Negotiating is something he’ll only put a very limited amount of effort into, and when it becomes more trouble than it’s worth, he stops negotiating. That’s why he snapped two nights ago in your father’s home office. Well, he won’t admit it to himself or anyone else, but seeing how pretty you looked on your knees was what really made him snap. The pain of negotiating was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.
            You’re definitely worth negotiating for, more so than anything else he’s ever negotiated for in his lifetime. He gave it a try, but hearing your father once again label you as off-limits would be enough to set anyone off. So, as the man sits quite comfortably in his desk chair, studying his own clean yet metaphorically blood-stained hands, he feels justified in his actions. He fired a couple of rounds, pressed the barrel of his gun to your father’s temple, and took what was his. Well, maybe that’s overstating it a bit.
            If he’d really taken what was his in the way that he wanted to, he wouldn’t be so on edge right now. He wouldn’t have had to fuck his hand both last night and this morning just to get you off of his mind long enough to make it into his office today. He knows he could’ve avoided feeling like this if he’d just told your father that he was taking you that night, that he had no say in the matter whatsoever. But no, after maiming two of your father’s men, Bucky pressed his gun to your father’s head and a pen into his hand and he proposed a deal that would keep you from resenting him for the rest of your life. Your father signed whatever he needed to in order to spare his own life, even at the expense of sending his only child into the arms of the city’s most feared man.
            You’re the last thing Bucky should be focusing on right now. His eyes flit over to the security monitor on his desk, where he sees his expected guests stepping out of a black SUV one by one and coming to stand near the entrance of his currently closed nightclub. It’s going to be another evening of negotiating. Heaving a deep sigh, Bucky shifts his gaze to the bottom right corner of the screen, where he sees his new assistant sitting just outside of his office. His new assistant who, while so attentive and polite at work, looks at him with the vilest disdain every evening when he escorts her out to the car that carries her home. One would think she’d be nothing but grateful for him, having first spared her father’s life and then taken her on as an assistant with no work experience whatsoever. You really should be grateful.
            Unless James Bucky Barnes is so far past pissed that he can barely see straight, it’s hard to tell that he’s feeling anything other than relaxed and calm. For the most part, he’s a very level-headed man. He gives people chances, he understands and accepts small mistakes and mishaps as they occur. Even now, as the three men seated in front of his desk bicker on amongst themselves, taking up entirely too much of his time, Bucky looks almost bored. His gaze routinely darts from the faces of the men in front of him, down to the golden crevices of his vibranium hand as he traces them with his flesh index finger, and then to the watch on his right wrist.
            3:58 pm.
            Two more minutes, he tells himself.
            “This is going to keep happening if we don’t post more men at the docks when a shipment is coming in, and if the men who are supposed to be there keep showing up late.” The first red-faced man snaps, unintentionally hurling a light mist of saliva at the man to his right.
            “That’s not on me, I don’t know why you’re looking at me when you say that. I’m doing the best I can with the numbers I have, we’ve lost a few good men lately and I can’t do anything about that.” The man on the right retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.
            3:59 pm. Bucky’s eyes roam over to the heavy wooden doors that maintain the privacy of his office. He can hear you standing on the other side of it, taking a deep breath and pushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear before wrapping your little hand around the big metal doorknob. God, he can’t help but imagine your little hand wrapping around something else.
            The volume of the argument reaches an all-time high just as you’re tugging the heavy door open. It isn’t surprising that the quiet sound of the door sliding open doesn’t break the men out of their tiff, that only Bucky hears it.
            As soon as you’ve stepped into the office and realize what you’ve walked into, you freeze by the door. Your eyes dance over the backs of the three men who sit in front of the desk, watching as they engage with each other but none of them turn around to take notice of you. The only person who looks at you is Bucky, with his steely blue eyes and focused gaze. He watches intently as your own focus shifts to him. You’re fully expecting him to tell you to leave, that your presence isn’t needed at the moment, not when something so important is obviously going down. But he doesn’t. Bucky only stares at you, waiting to see if you’ll do your job and approach his desk.
            You take small steps toward the desk, toward the angry men that sit between you and your new boss. It isn’t until you’re halfway across the office that the man in the middle hears the sound of your heels clicking against the hardwood floor and he glances over his shoulder at you. The up-and-down look that he gives you sends a nauseating shiver down your spine while simultaneously making Bucky’s trigger finger itch.
            “You let bitches walk in here without knocking?” The middle man asks abruptly, effectively silencing the room with the way he’s just addressed Bucky. As is the norm, not a soul in the room can tell that Bucky’s seething on the inside. He keeps his cool, he remains level-headed as he makes eye contact with the burly man. He offers no words in response, and instead simply chooses to tilt his head slightly to the side as if he’s daring the man to say more. “Run along, little girls shouldn’t be privy to a man’s business. This is no place for you.”
            The man’s dark eyes are on you again, sizing you up as he waits to see how long it’ll take for you to listen to his bold command. Again, you freeze, unsure of whether to obey the piece of shit who’s just spoken or to obey Bucky’s rules. You’re too check in with him in his office every evening at four to see if he needs anything else before you leave for the night. It’s why you’re here now, in your tight black skirt, tights, heels, and black knitted sweater. It’s why you’re frozen in place, searching his eyes for any clue as to what you should be doing. Bucky says nothing, he doesn’t even so much as raise an eyebrow at you. So, you turn to head right back out the door.
            “Sit.” His tone is commanding and authoritative, ten times more so than the flushed, angry man who tried to tell you what to do only a moment ago. When James Bucky Barnes speaks, everyone listens. You turn around slowly, coming to face the desk again, but you don’t take any steps forward to do as you’ve been asked.
            Bucky would like for you to do as you’re told after only being told once. Though, he has to remind himself, you’re new to this. He can give you a little grace. If it takes being told twice for you to listen, he can work with that. But if it takes much more than that? He may have underestimated just how much trouble you’d be for him. As you hold his gaze, he fights the urge to speak again. He told you to sit, you should already be sitting. He narrows his eyes at you in one last effort to get through to you without words. That’s what spurs you into action. He watches as your legs carry you forward slowly. He watches as your eyes coast over the three men, who are staring at you with varied amounts of attraction, annoyance, and shock on their faces. You’re realizing that there isn’t a free chair anywhere in the office. Your first thought is to sit on the corner of Bucky’s mahogany desk, because where the hell else does he want you to sit? You’re making your move to perch there when you meet Bucky’s gaze again.
            The harsh, offended look on his face clears things up for you quickly. He most definitely doesn’t want you sitting on his desk. The way he pushes his chair back a few inches and spreads his legs to make room leaves a mix of anger and excitement swirling around within you. You stand there beside his desk, staring at him with a cold expression of your own. With a little tilt of his head to the side and another narrowed look, you find your legs carrying you forward once more, toward the man you’ve always been inexplicably drawn to.
            “Who is she to you? We’re not going to sit here and talk business in front of one of your little playthings. She has no part in this.” The bold middle man barks out, directing his anger at Bucky now. Bucky’s in his own world for the moment. The soft curve of your ass is pressing against the junction of his hip and his thigh, the sweet scent of your perfume is making his head spin, and the way your cheeks are turning a gentle shade of pink is making him question every illegal thing he’s ever done. It’s as if he has an actual angel in front of him right now. He’s quiet for a bit too long after the man’s harsh question, and you turn your head to look at your boss. You notice the way his normally hardened gaze softens when you make eye contact with him, the way his pupils dilate in the slightest and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smooth out. You’re lost in him for a moment, lost in the sea of blue that rims his widened pupils, lost in the way your anger seems to be dissipating more and more with every second that you look at him.
            Bucky likes that you hold eye contact with him even as he reaches up to his desk with his right hand, even as he wraps his fingers around the gun that he laid there before the meeting began. Even when he aims the gun between the eyes of the man in the middle chair, you’re still lost in his gaze. It isn’t until he pulls the trigger and ends the man’s life right there that your eyes snap shut and your body tenses up. Instinctively, Bucky’s vibranium hand moves to the small of your back to steady you, to make you feel safer.
            “Does anyone else have anything to say about my wife?”
            That’s the moment you find out that somehow, without your knowledge or agreement, you’re married to James Bucky Barnes.
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Note
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Imagine Alpine waking up you and Bucky cause she’s hungry or she just wants attention from her mommy and daddy🥰🩵🩷
Just Like Her Dad
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PAIRINGS: James "Bucky" Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader
WARNINGS: Extreme fluffiness (pun intended)
WORD COUNT: 364
*not proof-read*
ENJOY!
The afternoon sun shines brightly through the open blinds, indicating the day is nearly half done. Bucky and you sleep in after staying up all night to watch the entire Hobbit series.
You feel Bucky wrapping an arm around your back pulling you close, and you nudge your nose against his chest inhaling his woodsy scent. You just lay in each other's arms, wanting to soak in the presence of the other.
Suddenly, a mass jumps on the bed. Then jumps on your side, and you let out an 'oof'.
Turning around, you see Bucky's white cate, Alpine. She chews on your covers and you start to chuckle.
"Aw, hello there baby," you pick her up and cuddle her close your chest. She purrs and rubs her head against your collarbone.
Bucky clears his throat, and opens his eyes to see the view in front of him. "Mornin' Alps," he rubs her chin, and Alpine moves away from Bucky and closer to you.
You both are in shock.
"Someone has a favourite," he grumbles and rubs his eyes, trying to wipe the sleep away. You laugh and coo and the little furball. "No she doesn't," you argue playfully, adjusting the little pink bow you tied on a small clump of her fur at the top of her head last night. Bucky looks at you with a look that just says 'are you kidding me?'.
"She doesn't!" You laugh harder and your grin windes, "Buck, I'm serious she doesn't like me more." Bucky turns and lies flat on the bed as he nods sarcastically, "sure."
Alpine purrs loudly and snuggles closer to your body, Bucky laughs and raises a brow at you, "see."
You shake your head and hug the cat closer, "Alpine, do you like me or you're Daddy more?" Alpine meows and licks at your jaw, pronoucing her choice.
You gasp while Bucky laughs, "I told you, she LOVES you more."
You shake your head as you laugh with Bucky, "well it just proves one thing." Bucky looks at you curiously, reaching over and starts to play with your hair lazily, "yeah?"
You hum and nod, "she's just like her dad." You wink at him.
💌💌💌
So fucking mad at Marvel, for not including Alpine in TFATWS.
Like besties, we were ROBBED.😩😩😩
LOVE THIS ASK, ALWAYS ON DECK FOR WRITING ALPINE.
Till' then,
Stay Coquette-y,
Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀
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thestarkinternship · 2 days
Text
If Bucky Could Get Drunk
Bucky Barnes x female reader: drabble (Fluff)
Word Count: 387
If Bucky could get drunk, he’d be the adorable kind. Each sip of whiskey breaks down the walls of his harsh and stoic exterior until he’s a sweet, smiling mess. He gets involved in drinking games, he laughs at Steve’s bad jokes, he tries to slip Peter drinks when Tony isn’t looking.
“He’s nearly 18.” He grumbles when Tony swats his hand away.
Bucky’s obvious change in demeanour is a nice surprise for everyone except you. You watch happily from across the room as he publicly becomes more like the man that you’ve come to love in private. When he meets your gaze, Bucky’s smile only gets bigger. He looks you up and down, and he’s not exactly being subtle about it. As the others catch wind of what’s going on between you, they tease him mercilessly. No matter how much he threatens them now, they’ll always be reminded of the loving man that you and a little bit of alcohol can turn him into. And maybe they’re right. Right now, all he wants to do is saunter over and lean down to stroke your hair and whisper about how much he cares about you until you’re blushing just as much as he is. But as the room starts to slowly spin around him, Bucky resolves to longing stares and subtle winks.
And when he’s finally had too much, you’ll roll your eyes and get him a glass of water. He watches as you stride past him into the kitchen, letting his gaze linger on your figure. A small smirk crosses his face at the many different thoughts racing through his brain. Some are sweeter than others, but they all revolve around you. They clear as soon as you return with a full glass. He pouts at the sight, eyes glazing over as his cheeks flush.
“Drink.” You say softly, handing it to him.
“Yes ma’am.” He smirks teasingly, looking up at you as he leans forward.
For a minute, you think he’s going to listen to you. And for once, he does. He takes the glass, but not before pulling you into his lap and spilling half the water in the process. Your lips part to scold him, but then he starts nuzzling into your neck and your anger fades.
“My girl, always looking after me.”
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queers-gambit · 14 hours
Text
Damage Done
prompt: The Winter Soldier is activated and Bucky's lover is unlucky enough to be in proximity.
pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Widow!reader
fandom masterlist: Marvel
word count: 5.4k+
note: oh, wow, Cherry wrote Bucky NOT in a Mafia AU?
warnings: takes place during Civil War, absolutely no plot - author just doesn't know how to shut the fuck up. cursing, violence, small angst, injury, blood, hurt and comfort, Winter Soldier antics, choking, abrupt ending, maybe domestic violence? it's the WS.
it's really not that bad, it's not terribly descriptive but still tread carefully if triggered by these topics.
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"Keep them together," Agent Everett Ross commanded, a little man with a raging Napoleon Complex, gesturing at you and Bucky; the latter held in mobile, restrictive captivity. "He doesn't play nice if he doesn't see her, or so it's said," his eyes rolled.
"You're making a huge mistake!" You barked, struggling in the restraints they had you wrapped in.
"No, I don't think so," he sneered, approaching you as Bucky's unit kept moving. "I think the mistake was letting you out of anyone's sight. Tell me, how long have you been in cahoots with the Winter Soldier?"
"He's not the Winter Soldier anymore, you jackass, he's a person! A real, live human being! His name's James but he prefers Bucky! He likes plums," you were yanked away, still snarling, "his favorite color is blue, likes motorcycles, he has real guilt over his past transgressions, and you've got the wrong guy!"
"Oh, right, like you're the best judge of character," Ross laughed.
"Natasha! Nat! Fucking tell him!" You pleaded, struggling in the hold of the men who kept iron clad restraint on you and were starting to drag you away. "You've got the wrong guy! Bucky didn't do this! I wouldn't lie - not to you, Natasha! Tell him!"
"That's touching, really sweet," Ross mocked, rolling his eyes as you were finally overpowered and lead away.
"Hang on a second," Nat muttered, sharing a look with Tony. "Was her DNA or facial recognition anywhere at the UN? Anywhere near where the bomb was set off?"
"What's that matter - "
"Since they met, they've not parted ways," Nat spelled out. "He won't go anywhere without her - you, yourself, are keeping them together for interrogation - "
"It's just easier," Ross scoffed.
"No, you know..." She blinked in confusion, "You know, Bucky won't talk unless she's there - you know he'll be ten times as difficult if she's not in the room."
"So?"
"So, in the past two years, have you heard about him without her? Have you seen her without him?"
"Nobody's seen or heard from either of them," Ross shook his head.
"Exactly," she nodded, lungs tightening with nerves. "If you can't find evidence of her being in Vienna... Bucky might not be your guy... Besides, they're both trained to avoid cameras - "
"Mistakes are made," Ross waved off.
"Not by two highly trained assassins like them," she snapped. "Check the files, go back - look! Actually look, run her scans through facial recognition - if you don't find her, it wasn't Bucky."
"You're so sure?" Tony asked skeptically.
"I know her," Natasha nodded, "better than anyone. She's as good as my sister, she's as good as blood. I know her. I know she wouldn't run this risk - "
"Then you also know she wouldn't get caught," Ross laughed.
"Neither would Bucky."
The silence stretched, but Ross was stubborn; sneering at the Avengers and taking his leave with his own plan of action in mind. He left Tony and Natasha to deal with Sam and Steve as he went to observe the interrogation. When he got before the monitors, he watched as it took four different men to restrain you enough to hoist your locks up the wall until they were clicked in place by ultra-strength magnets.
You jostled, feeling the full extent of your containment, grunting when the pipe you were connected to shocked your entire system into submission. Everett Ross smirked at your pain; watching your tongue swipe over your teeth, arms high above your head, readjusting your weight in your feet, but otherwise, not moving.
Ross heard Bucky ask quietly, his eyes watching you carefully from inside the reinforced cell, "You okay, doll?"
"Looks like they learned from last time," you grit, the cuffs around your wrists electrified; charring your skin, making you grimace slightly in a veiled attempt to hide your pain from your lover.
"Don't fight, you'll make it worse," he advised softly, frowning, eyes glassy from restrained emotion.
"They could've at least put me in a bit more comfortable position," you sneered, glaring up at one of the cameras, shaking your head as if in disappointment.
"I don't think they want to play nice, sweetheart."
"Yeah, could've guessed that from when they arrested us," you shook your head, puckering your lips to gather the blood in your mouth; spitting it to the floor. "You good, baby?" You asked as the men who restrained you moved to plug in the power cell caging Bucky.
He nodded silently at you, bowing his head and letting his long locks curtain his face. You frowned, shifting again as you blindly felt your cuffs and designed a way to get free; watching the men stoically as they exited the room to make way for the psychologist. Your jaw clenched, the air smelling foul - alerting you that something wasn't quite right.
"Hello, Mr. Barnes," the accented man greeted casually, standing at a single table in front of Bucky, you off to the side; chains rattling as your defenses flared. The psychologist smirked and greeted you, too, assuring your real identity was known - something that Natasha released to the world about two years ago when HYDRA sent Bucky after Cap in DC. You didn't fault her, in fact, you respected her move, and after getting out of the blown-to-shit base, you had run into the Winter Soldier... Beginning your epic love story, both of you on the run from authorities and higher powers.
You smuggled Bucky out of the country, using fake aliases that had yet to see the light of day and therefor, wasn't released in the files Nat published during her takedown of the compromised S.H.I.E.L.D. agency. He was appreciative, pondering how he was meant to go forward in a world he didn't know; so, you agreed to stick around for a bit to help settle him, and that bit turned into a couple of years - the two of you inseparable.
There was an incident in London that almost exposed you, but instead, it just shined a light on your new partnership. Captain American, Nat, Sam, shit - even Tony Stark himself was unable to catch up; your trail going cold, Nat knowing your Widow training was running the show and keeping you safe. Granted, she probably could've unraveled the web you had weaved - but the truth was, she didn't want to. So, she kept quiet. Leading you all here...
"I've been sent by the United Nations to evaluate you both," the man you'd come to know as Helmut Zemo continued; playing his part very well, but not well enough to convince you of his innocence. Something about the man rubbed you the wrong way. "Do you mind if I sit?" He asked politely, feigning like you two had a choice. When he did, Zemo continued, "Your first name is James?"
He noted the way Bucky and you shared a look, both remaining silent. Zemo tried to assure, "I'm not here to judge you - either of you. I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?" Continued silence, your head subtly shaking - an act only Bucky clocked. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James."
"My name is Bucky," he croaked, your sigh echoing around the room.
"Hm," Zemo nodded, "I take it, she doesn't want you to talk?"
"She wants me safe," Bucky answered stiffly.
"That is admirable," the psychologist offered kindly, "a great display of love, is it not?"
"Jesus Christ," you shook your head, offering a glare, "you went through all that schooling to ask stupid fucking questions? Might wanna get your money back."
Zemo chuckled after humming, "I am merely trying to establish the connection you two share. I hear it is rare to find one without the other, that you two have become, uh, joined at the hip?"
"I protect her," Bucky offered, sharing a long look with you, "and she protects me."
"An equal partnership, would you say?"
"Yes."
"Buck," you warned, wrists twisting to hold the cuffs; being zapped, making your jaw clench and the veins in your neck to bulge.
"It's all right," his voice sounded like it was being put through a grater. "We're caught, doll, it's all right."
You huffed, eyeing Zemo as his eyes flickered between you two. He nodded, making a note in his little book, "I was warned that you would be unwilling to cooperate without her present. Why is that?"
"She keeps me safe."
Zemo hummed, "So you've said, and yet... Here you both are..." You were ready to lash out, but the doctor changed course, "Tell me, Bucky. You've seen a great deal, haven't you?"
"I don't wanna talk about it." Your restraints zapped you again when you jolted forward as if to physically silence Zemo, Bucky's head snapping over and his eyes drooping in sympathy. "Told you not to move, it'll only get worse," he told you softly.
"He's asking questions that will get him killed," you snarled, gritting your teeth as the electric currents seized most of your energy. But it was worth it, finding a little weak spot and letting your mind devise a specific plan.
"You fear," Zemo continued, "that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. I feel it is safe to assume, uh, your lady is privy to your past experiences? Perhaps, you two have shared a couple?"
"Just leave her out of this," Bucky pleaded.
"Don't worry," he assured you both, tapping something on his tablet before looking back at Bucky with a sick recognition. "We only have to talk about one. One mission... That I know you," he nodded at you, "were not present for."
"Kinda game you playin', Doc?" You sneered. "Think anything he says will change my opinion about him?"
"No, no, I know your relationship is too strong for that," Zemo smiled. "So, it's not so much what he will say... But what he will do..."
"The fuck does that - "
But then, the lights went out; darkening the room save for the lights individual to Bucky's holding cell. You perked up, the electric currents halting as the cuffs died with the power and gave you an opportunity to begin working on your escape. As red panic lights flickered, Bucky questioned, "What the hell is this?"
"Why don't we discuss your home?" Zemo offered. "Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no," he reached into his satchel, revealing a red notebook the world thought long lost... Buried in snow... Forgotten in time. "I mean, your real home," Zemo removed his glasses as you frantically started working.
"No, no, no, no, no, hey, hey, hey, don't - fuck!" You grit, trying harder to free yourself. "Bucky - Bucky, don't listen - ah, Goddamnit!"
The man you now understood to be a fake psychologist stood with a little flashlight, opening the red notebook, and began repeating words in Russian that would activate the decommissioned Winter Soldier. Bucky had told you all about these words, begging you to provide a shield against them should they ever be uttered again; but you had prior knowledge, the Winter Soldier someone you had been debriefed on during your time with other secret agencies.
"Longing."
"No," Bucky whispered, head tilting back in panic as he felt his stomach curl in a familiar pattern.
"Bucky - don't fucking listen, please!" You begged, still working to free yourself.
"Rusted."
"Stop," Bucky pleaded, sounding in pain.
"Don't do this!" You pleaded to Zemo. "You're fucking hurting him, please, stop!"
"Seventeen."
"Stop!" Bucky barked, his vibranium hand clenching in anger and pain; the entire arm whirring from the flex of his muscle. He began to pant, a deep growl emitting above your panicked whimpers.
"Daybreak!"
"You have no idea what you're doing!" You raged, Bucky screaming in pain as his mind was forcibly sunk back into dark recesses of his past. "Don't - Bucky, baby, listen to me - don't fucking listen to him, please, please, baby, don't do this!"
He screamed, breaking free of the iron restraints that kept him seated in the reinforced, mobile cell. "Furnace!" Zemo continued, ignoring the pain and panic you and Bucky were both thrown into.
"Fucking stop, please! You don't understand!" You begged, freeing one hand and working in vain to unlatch the other. Bucky was out of his seat, anger coursing like a palpable rain over you all - him screaming as his metal arm worked to pound into the strengthened glass surrounding him.
"Nine!"
"Bucky, please, baby, please, don't do this!" You tried a new tactic, hoping you were enough to cut through the brainwashing - but how silly to imagine. Decades of trauma was washing over Bucky again and your little words couldn't cut through the barricades of his mind.
"Benign!"
"You stupid fucking little man!"
Zemo rounded around the cell, Bucky still pounding away at the glass. "Homecoming! One!"
"DON'T!"
"Freight car!"
You whimpered in fear when Bucky punched the entire door off the hinges, freeing him at last; but the words were spoken, the damage done. He crouched on the floor, Zemo pausing to take in the sight, slowly approaching Bucky as he stood upright; the jangling of your chains louder and more frantic as you tried to free your last wrist.
"Jesus Christ," you whispered, trying to divide focus between the two tasks of freeing yourself and protecting Bucky - but being terribly unsuccessful as you watched Zemo stand in front of your dead-eyed boyfriend.
What a ridiculous, mundane label to assign someone like Bucky.
In Russian, Zemo questioned, "Soldier?"
And in Russian, the man you loved answered, "Ready to comply."
Zemo demanded in English, "Mission report. December 16, 1991."
You whimpered in fear, listening to Bucky give the report that would haunt you for years to come. Just as he finished, you managed to get out of the cuffs, but the clanging of your freed restraints caught Zemo's attention - who smirked with abundant cruelty. "Don't," you warned, backing out of the room just as officers began to flood it.
It was a brutal fight, trying to stave off Bucky once in his Winter Soldier mindset. You grunted as he engaged you, men dead at your feet - the lucky ones just knocked out. You grit your teeth, trying to defend yourself as Bucky operated mechanically; doing what you could to protect yourself, but it wasn't enough.
Blows landed, punching and kicking one another in an equal match of strength and stamina.
"Seize her," Zemo demanded, and in the next moment, Bucky had you by the neck; an effort that made you wheeze and claw at his bionic hand.
"Bucky," you begged. "Baby - baby - it's me, it's me, please, don't, it's me! Don't do this, baby, please, come back to me. Come back!" You struggled in his grip, trying to pry his hand open, "Baby, please, please, come back to me," spit drooled from your lips as he squeezed tighter. "This isn't you!" You managed to squeeze out, tears surfacing. "Not anymore, don't let them win!"
"Shut her up, Solider," Zemo commanded in Russian, your eyes widening and trying to beg Bucky again before he was sending you into a wall. He marched up to you, grabbing your hair, and surging his balled up metal fist directly into the bridge of your nose, breaking it, head jolting backwards, and effectively knocking you out.
When you came back into consciousness, it was to Steve's worried face; his hands caressing your cheeks and begging, "You all right?"
"Fucking hell," you winced, reaching up to prod the tender spot on your head; revealing blood.
"Got your ass kicked, huh?" He frowned.
"Watch your language, Cap," you smirked, wincing when your face throbbed. "Shit, how bad is it?"
He looked you over, offering, "Definitely a broken nose."
"Goddamnit - where is he? Where's Bucky?"
"Help me," a voice pleaded from the next room, Zemo playing his part by splaying out on the floor like bait.
"Don't trust him, something ain't right about him, Steve," you whispered, waving him on as you sluggishly hoisted yourself up the wall to lean against it. "Kept asking about Siberia, asking about shit nobody should actually know."
"Get yourself safe," Steve told you swiftly, nodding at Sam; who was checking on the status of the other bodies around you.
"Just find him, Steve, he's lost in his own mind - a threat to himself," you panted, slowly standing.
"I know - "
"You don't know," you shook your head, wiping a trickle of blood from your temple, "but you're gonna have to do more than understand him right now, Steve."
"I've got this," he promised, watching you nod and limp away. You had just missed the action, Bucky overpowering both Sam and Steve; getting to a safety landing and running into Natasha, Tony, and Agent Sharon Carter.
"We'll hash our bullshit out later," you panted, "but for now - "
You heard a commotion behind you, flinching out of sight when Bucky made himself known and began taking down rogue agents unlucky enough to stand before the Winter Soldier.
"He have an off switch?" Nat asked.
"Not that I've found," you frowned. "Split up."
Tony tried to engage Bucky first, using a mobile Iron Man device he wore on his wrist that used sonics to disorient Bucky. It only worked to a small extent, the two exchanging a few blows, Bucky firing a bullet at Tony's face at pointblank range that was saved by his technologically advanced glasses. Bucky got the upper hand, sending Tony flying back, letting Sharon and Nat attack.
He disposed of them both easily, stumbling when you caught him off guard and wrapped your legs around him. Normally, you'd do anything to have your legs around him - but this wasn't one of those times. You exchanged several punches, blocking one another, going for disarming hits but being of equal challenge; leaving small cuts and blooming bruises on each other as if to prove the engagement. Natasha rejoined the fight, two Widows showing Bucky up on a few instances, but he was heaving her across the room as you swung onto his shoulders in an impressive acrobatic move.
You heaved your fists down in a repeated fashion on the top of his head, Bucky charging at one of the cafe tables; slamming you down and choking you again with his metal hand. Both your hands held his, legs up around his neck to try to keep him at a distance for relief on your windpipe.
Through a strangled breath, you managed, "You could at least recognize me!"
"Who said I don't?" He growled, reaching out to snap a piece of wood from a chair.
You tried to regain normal breath, wheezing, "This isn't you, baby, you are not this person anymore - you're not a psychotic, robot killer! You're a man - please!"
"You don't know a damn thing about me," he seethed.
"I know everything about you," you strangled, "and I know this isn't you. Come back to me, baby, please! Y-You can't let the demons win, Buck, please - fucking listen to me!" But he only raised the wooden shaft above his head. "BUCKY, DON'T!"
"Who the hell is Bucky?"
You cried out shrilly when he jabbed the sharp wood into your shoulder, staking you to the table just as King T'Challa rushed onto the scene and stole your brainwashed boyfriend's attention. You hissed in pain, trying to yank the wood free but being unsuccessful; resulting in blood to splatter onto the tiled floor.
Hearing someone pant your name, you caught a glimpse of red and knew it was Nat, her face worried over yours a moment later. "Where's Bucky?" You coughed and winced in pain.
"Goin' up by the looks of it," she informed, "now hang on, this is gonna hurt. Want a belt to bite?"
"No, just do it, get it done, please," you panted, bracing yourself, and suddenly, without warning, your companion heaved the piercing shaft free from your flesh. Naturally, you cried out, groaning and clenching your jaw so tight, it nearly crushed your teeth into dust.
"Hey, you seen..." Sam arrived on scene, taking in your injury, "Holy shit, you good?"
"Yeah," you grunted, stumbling to your feet as blood bloomed into a bigger, brighter blemish on your tactical shirt. "We gotta go, Sam, we should get outta here."
"Hang on," Nat paused you two, your opposite hand holding your wound; her hands occupied by a smart device, "looks like Bucky tried to highjack a helicopter. Steve stopped him, but it resulted in them all crashing in the river."
"Shit," Sam breathed. "We gotta go find them."
"We need to get outta here, you know, away from the cops and agents," your head shook. "Get somewhere safe, away from this catastrophe. We'll regroup with Steve."
"Go," Nat permitted, "I won't say a word."
"You're one of a kind, Nat," you praised, pecking her cheek. "Let's go, Sam. And grab that First Aid kit," you pointed to the wall where the white box was mounted. He agreed and you lead the way out of the facility.
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Bucky groaned as he woke up, head lulling back before realizing he couldn't move his metal arm; finding it clamped in industrial weights. Sam called you both to attention, but while Steve jogged over, you remained in your place out of sheer distress.
You only vaguely listened to the conversation, hands trembling as your shoulder was bandaged to prevent further injury or infection. You did what you could to patch up any injury, and when you heard your name, you dialed in; Bucky asking, "Where is she? Is she okay?"
"You don't remember?" Sam sneered.
"No..."
"You stabbed her," the Falcon growled.
"What? N-No, I-I-I couldn't've - I wouldn't!"
"You did," Steve confirmed, pity coloring his words. "Punched her out pretty well, choked her, too. Broke her nose..."
"Please - Steve, please, tell me I didn't."
"I'm sorry, Buck."
"That why she's not here? She's in a hospital?"
"Actually, no," Sam trailed, "she's just in the other room."
"She didn't want to come here?"
Steve sighed as Sam informed, "Don't think she wants to see you right now, man."
"I didn't mean to hurt her."
"We know," Steve swiftly promised, nodding his head. "She knows it, too, you just have to give her some time."
Bucky looked utterly defeated, murmuring, "I scared her. Oh, my God, I scared her..."
"Gotta agree with you there."
"Sam," Steve reprimanded. "Look, Buck, she'll come around."
You waited until the two men left Bucky alone to regroup and stratify a new course of action. Slowly and almost sheepishly, you entered where Bucky was being kept, steps silent but he heard you anyways. His blue eyes flashed in concern as he met your gaze, mouth opening and closing as if words failed him.
"Doll," he finally breathed, "a-are you all right?"
"I'm okay."
"Don't bullshit me, how hard did I hit you? Steve said I broke your nose, I-I'm so sorry, doll, please believe me. What'd I do to your shoulder? Is that where I stabbed you?"
"Buck," you sighed, slowly squatting in front of him, "I need you to take a breath and know that I understand you were not in your right state of mind. You were forcibly triggered and sent back into that way of thinking, I know it wasn't you."
"I still hurt you, I still did it."
"Did you, though?" Your head cocked, eyes narrowing slightly, "Because I know my Bucky wouldn't hurt me, would never dare lay a hand on me - but the Winter Solider is a different story. You didn't do this, Buck, you weren't you."
"I can smell the fear on you."
"Well, yeah, it fuckin' scared me. I tried to stop that fake doctor, I tried to help, tried to save you and keep your safe. I'm sorry I was too slow, that I failed."
"You didn't fail anything, sweetheart... I-I failed you, I broke my promise to never hurt you."
"No, you didn't. The Winter Solider did all that, not my Bucky."
He frowned, repeating to ask softly, "Your Bucky?"
"My Bucky - the kind, charismatic, impossibly stubborn, kind hearted man I've loved the past couple of years who always gives me the crispiest fries, who has nightmares, who loves me unconditionally despite what I, too, have done in my past. And you know what I was doing out there while Sam and Steve talked to you?"
"What's that, doll?"
"Understanding that loving someone means loving their flaws, accepting them exactly as they are. So, while, yes, the Winter Solider scares the fuck outta me, he's still part of you and I can't authentically love you if I reject the Soldier."
His head shook "Your kindness is wasted on me."
"I think you should let me decide what's a waste and what's not when it comes to my own energy and emotion."
"I'm just gonna end up hurting you again. You're better off without me, baby, you and I both know you're better off keeping your distance. You should get out now while you still can."
"Not gonna happen. 'Cause you know what else I realized?" You reached up to caress his cheek, "I trust you beyond reasonable doubt, I trust you even if I'm afraid of the Winter Solider. I should've been faster, I should've helped you more, but I was powerless against that red notebook."
"You and I, both..."
You pet the cheek you were holding. "Buck, I know it was scary, I know how it must've felt being forced back into that mindset, but I want you to know that I'm in this for the long haul - you're not gonna scare me off. Because I love you, Bucky, and every single part of you - whether choking me out or not. Whether I earn a broken nose or not."
"I'm so sorry. I-I can't believe I did that, I'm so sorry, I hate that I hurt you. I'm so sorry, baby, I can't - I can't even put it in words how much I regret putting you in that position."
You smirked, "See? The Winter Soldier has no remorse, but my Bucky does." You gingerly reached out to curl his hair behind his ear. "My Bucky apologizes and takes accountability. There's no reason to not love that man - especially when he deserves it so much. Hey? Hear me? You deserve to be loved, too, Buck."
"And you deserve a man who doesn't run the risk of being turned into a psycho killing machine over a few measly words."
"I deserve to love my best friend, so let me do that. Say whatever you want, try to push me away - but I'm like a boomerang, baby, I'll just come right back."
"What kinda man puts his best girl in that kinda position? Who hurts the most important person in his life?"
"A man who endured decades of abuse," you laid your hands on either of his thighs, "a man who wasn't allowed control of his own mind. I can't - no, no, I won't fault you for that, Buck. Today wasn't your fault and I'll remind you of that as often as it takes. Don't you dare feel guilty because you didn't do this to me, okay? You didn't put me in any position - that fake fucking doctor did this, Agent Ross did this, special ops put us here. You, my sweet boy, didn't do anything to be at fault. You were trapped, but look at you now - freed, level headed, talking to me."
His eyes gleamed with a sheen of emotion, staring at the bloodied bandage wrapping your shoulder wound before his eyes danced over the bruising and other aftermath of your injuries. "I could've killed you," he muttered, tears filling his eyes.
"But you didn't - and surprisingly, neither did the Winter Soldier. Maybe there was a part of you still alive, wanting to refuse orders and not actually hurt me."
"Perhaps," he frowned. "I'm still so sorry, doll, I hate that I did this to you. It never should've happened."
Your head nodded, "I know, baby, and listen - I forgive you. Yeah? Hear me? I forgive you, this is in the past."
"Are you sure about me? You sure you wanna do this? Knowing I could flip a switch and hurt you - maybe even worse than today?"
"I'm sure about you, Buck," you agreed. "I don't wanna be without you, so, sign me up for whatever's to come."
"You might regret that."
"The only thing I could ever regret is abandoning you. I don't want to do this without you - I love our life together. In any world, in any lifetime, I'd still choose you. There's nothing that would make me regret you - regret being with you."
"You sure? I don't want to make you do anything out of your comfort."
"I love you, Bucky, yes, I'm sure. No matter what damage you think you might've caused, whatever damage has been done, I promise, that's not the truth. There's nothing about you that I could regret."
"Well, all that's left now is to get to Siberia, stop the other Winter Soldiers."
"And figure out a way to free your mind once and for all... It's what you deserve," you told him softly, rocking to your knees to meet his forehead with yours and caressing his cheek again. When you heard approaching footsteps, you sighed and pulled away from him to stand and turn, spying Sam and Steve. "C'mon, Cap, get him outta this. He's not gonna attack anyone," you requested, gesturing where your boyfriend was trapped.
"You sure?" Sam asked stiffly. "He did a real number on you alone. Not to mention all the other agents and cops he took out back there."
"He's good," you snapped, perking your brows at Steve, "and you two would do well not to throw what happened in his face, it wasn't his fault. So c'mon, free him, he's not a wild animal."
Steve agreed and lifted the machinery from Bucky's prosthetic, him instantly snatching it back and massaging where the joint met metal. Bucky stood with a set stare at Sam and Steve, as if anticipating them to lunge at him. His throat constricted, swelled with emotion when you stepped in front of him - posing barrier between the two Avengers and himself.
"You still got that phone on you?" Steve asked you softly.
"I do."
"Is it still unregistered?"
"You know it is. Who're we calling?"
"Reinforcements. We're gonna need help now that the Avengers will be looking for us. We gotta get to Siberia."
"Here," you agreed, unlocking the device and handing it over. "Who's first on your list?"
"Any Avenger who didn't sign the Sokovia Accords."
When he walked away with Sam again, you turned to face your lover directly; staring into swirling storms of baby blues. "You still with me?" You asked softly, reaching up to caress his hair again to push it behind his ear.
"Always. Got my six?"
"You know I do, baby," you smirked, stepping into his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. "We'll figure this out, together."
"Together," he agreed, sighing deeply and returning your embrace tightly. His flesh hand rose to hold the back of your head, bringing his lips down to lay a chaste kiss on the top of your head. His voice rattled quietly, "Thank you..."
"Hmm? For what, handsome?"
"Believing in me. It's nice to think we can end this torment."
You smiled up at him, "You deserve freedom, Bucky, and to live without this haunting fear."
"I don't know about 'deserving' it, sweetheart. Done a lot of things that would argue against that."
"Maybe against the Winter Soldier, but Bucky deserves the world. Deserves kindness, accommodation, love and understanding. Now," you smirked and sniffled, giving his waist another squeeze before releasing and pulling back, "get your head outta this pit and focus, we've got a long day ahead of us."
He agreed, letting you take his hand and lace fleshy fingers together in a tether. Sam's face remained stoic and passive, but when Steve saw you two, he couldn't help but smile. Two years he hunted for Bucky and just today, he's learned his best friend's been shacked up with you - a warmth blooming in his chest over the idea of you two finding one another and loving each other.
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Unwanted: Chapter 11, Unsure - Pt. 1
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader
Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.
Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Pocket not knowing how to navigate her emotions
Word Count: 1.9k
Previously On...: Jade just had to rub it in that she not only hears you and Bucky fighting about her, but that it brings her joy. So, you had to make sure you fucked your boyfriend extra loud.
A/N: My mom is coming up to visit after I get out of work today, so obviously, I cannot post while she is around (the contents of this story would stop her super-Catholic heart or, at the very least, have her send me out for an exorcism), so I'm scheduling this update.
Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!
Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!
Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @crist1216 @vicmc624 @sashaisready @j23r23 @wintercrows
Over the next few weeks, things between you and Bucky were technically better, in the sense that you hadn’t argued again, and he didn’t mention Jade to you, or answer her calls or texts in your presence, but they were so much worse in that she was taking up more of his time than ever before, and you saw each other less and less. You tried to rationalize it by telling yourself that the amount of time the two of you had spent together at the beginning of your relationship had been abnormal– nearly constant– and that the current situation was more on par with what regular couples experienced, but the truth of the matter was that you felt yourself pulling away from him, building a wall around your heart to protect yourself from what you saw as the inevitable heartache Bucky was going to inflict upon you.
He’d been right– you had been going around in circles, and every time you thought you’d made some progress, another event would transpire that would just end up leaving you feeling worse. Yes, he always had the sweetest words to say to you to bring you down from your anger, but at what point did they go from being the actual truth to just being something said just to placate you? More and more, you found yourself questioning the difference between the two, and as a result, your walls were going back up with a vengeance. 
If he noticed, though, he didn’t say anything. He was preoccupied with preparing Jade for her first mission. She’d be going off to Malaysia with Sam and Rhodey (you may have begged Tony to ensure she was never partnered with either you or Bucky, and bless that man and his affection for you, he’d been more than willing to comply), and Bucky was working overtime to make sure she was ready. 
And perhaps a small part of you was hoping she’d go MIA in the jungle. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud to anyone but FRIDAY.
The day before she was scheduled to depart, you were lounging on your couch, working on your laptop. Your crisis prediction algorithm project was finally ready, and you were putting the finishing touches on the presentation you were scheduled to give to the board in less than two weeks time. You were just adding some graphics when Bucky came in the door.
“You haven’t started getting ready yet?” he asked, kissing the crown of your head by way of greeting. He looked exceptionally handsome in a pair of tight black jeans and black button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. 
You looked up at him in confusion. “Ready for what?” you asked, taking off your glasses and rubbing the bridge of your nose.
“Gino’s,” he said, as if that would clear it up. At your blank look, he prompted: “Vix’s first mission is tomorrow. We’re all going down to Gino’s for drinks. Come on, Pocket. I told you about this days ago.”
You scoffed at him. “You most certainly did not. I would have remembered because I would have laughed at you and said ‘hard pass.’”
Bucky rubbed his eyes. “Okay, maybe it slipped my mind, and I’m sorry for that, but you should have known. It’s tradition.”
“Tradition?” you asked him, surprised to find that the anger you had expected to feel, that you should have felt, just wasn’t coming. Instead, you were just sad. “There’s no tradition.”
“What are you talking about? We all went before my first mission.”
You closed your laptop and put it down on the coffee table before standing up to face him with a sigh. “Buck, that was something I did, just for you, because I wanted to. Because you were my best friend. I wanted you to have a night of fun before you went out, because I didn’t know what sort of shit you were going to see, or have to do, on that mission. I wanted to give you something good to hold on to.”
Bucky’s face softened at your words and he embraced you, holding you close. “God,” he said, rubbing his nose into your hair, “I had no idea. I’m the fucking luckiest man alive, you know that? To have a girl as special as you care so much about me. You’re more than I deserve, doll.”
A tiny voice in the back of your mind couldn’t help but think Maybe I am. You crushed the thought as soon as it came. You loved him, you truly did. He just… frustrated you a lot recently. Jade’s probationary period was going to be over soon, and you were hopeful that she wouldn’t get the votes to stay in. You knew that, despite the initial warm reception she’d received, she’d ended up rubbing almost everyone the wrong way with her attitude. You’d even heard Sam and Clint complaining about Jade refusing to participate when it was her turn for training room clean-up because ‘shouldn’t Stark have people for that?’.
It seemed like everyone was finally seeing what kind of person she really was. Well, everyone except for Bucky, anyway. 
“So,” he said after a moment, “you gonna come?”
You thought about it for a second. A part of you was completely against the idea, not wanting the gesture you’d made for Bucky all those months ago to be tainted knowing he was making it now for her, but the prevailing part of you wasn’t about to offer Jade the opportunity of a night of drinking with Bucky, outside of your presence, on a silver platter. It concerned you that you were more motivated by thwarting any designs Jade might have than you were with spending time with your boyfriend, though. You tried to push your petty thoughts aside.
“Yeah,” you said, looking up into his eyes and allowing yourself to fall into them. God, they were beautiful. He was beautiful, inside and out. You needed to keep reminding yourself of that, of all the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place, and there were so, so many. “How much time do I have?” you asked.
Bucky pulled out his phone and glanced at the time. “About fifteen minutes,” he said.
“Fifteen minutes!” you shrieked, pulling away from him and heading over to your vanity. “Jesus, Buck! Give a girl some warning! It’s gonna take me twice that long just to do my hair and makeup!” You began pulling out all the accouterments you were going to need to prepare yourself.
Bucky came to stand behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist as he looked at you in the mirror. “You don’t need any of that stuff, doll,” he said, kissing your cheek. “You’re already going to be the sexiest girl there, but I’m not gonna complain about sitting around if you want to get even sexier.”
You smiled at Bucky through the mirror, and it felt like the first genuine smile you’d given him in ages. “That’s sweet of you, baby,” you said as you started putting on your moisturizer, “but I don’t want to make you late on my account.”
Bucky narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing you for any trace of annoyance or anger in your words. Not finding any, he asked: “Are you sure, sweets? I don’t mind waiting for you.”
You nodded, moving on to fill in your eyebrows. “It’s fine, Buck. Go. I’ll meet up with you as soon as I’m ready.” 
He lingered for several long moments, watching as you continued your makeup routine. You noticed him staring and paused contouring to turn to him. “What?” you asked with a small smile, expecting him to make some kind of comment about modern girls and all their makeup.
“Nothing,” he said, though there was a hint of sadness in his gaze. “You just seem… different, that’s all.”
You laughed. “You’ve seen me contour my face plenty of times, Buck. I swear, it’ll look great once I blend it out.”
“No,” he said with a shake of his head, “that’s not what I meant. You just seem… nevermind, it’s nothing.”
Shit. He could feel the distance you’d been building between the two of you. You didn’t want it to be there; you truly didn’t. You simply didn’t know how else to protect yourself. Closing yourself off had been your tried and true defense mechanism since you were eleven years old. 
Making a vow to yourself to get back to where you once were, back to him, you turned around, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Hey,” you said, kissing him softly, “I love you. So much.” You needed to reassure him, to reassure both of you, of the truth of it. 
“Love you, too, sweets,” he said warmly, not letting go of you. You let him hold you, relishing in the feel of him in a way you hadn’t let yourself experience in a bit. Unfortunately, the moment was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone, indicating he had a text. You pulled away and turned back to the mirror. 
“What’s Jade need now?” you asked, feeling the wall building itself back up. There was no anger in your voice, just a kind of resigned acceptance. You glanced up from blending your contour as Bucky checked the screen, a look of annoyance crossing his face as he read her text. 
“She wants to know if I can drive her to Gino’s on my bike,” he said. The way he looked back at you in the mirror almost made you feel ill, as though he were preparing for you to blow up at him. You felt the walls go higher around your heart.
“Well, you better head out then,” you said, focusing on your makeup. “Don’t want her being late for her own party.”
Bucky opened his mouth and then closed it again, as though not sure how to respond to you. Eventually, he said “It’s fine. Tony’s providing cars; she can hitch a ride with everyone else.”
“And deprive her the opportunity to wrap her arms around you?” you laughed. “Come on, Buck, you’re supposed to be giving her a night of good memories here. Don’t disappoint the girl.”
His brow furrowed at your words. In a single step, he was beside you, taking the contouring brush from your hand and turning your shoulders so you were facing him. “Pocket,” he said, licking his lips, “are we… are we okay?”
You shrugged nonchalantly. “Of course,” you said, taking the brush back from him and moving on to your bronzer and blush. “Why wouldn’t we be okay?”
“You’re just… you seem to be awfully relaxed about the idea of her being on the back of my bike.”
You arched a brow and looked over at him. “Should I not be?” you asked. “Is there a reason for me to be bothered by it?”
Bucky spluttered. “No! Of course not! It’s just…”
“Then I don’t understand what the problem is, Bucky,” you said, getting back to work on your face. His phone buzzed again. “You better go. Sounds like your ‘work wife’ is getting impatient.”
“My work wife? Doll, I don’t… I can’t…” he stammered, at a loss for words.
“Buck,” you said, patting his arm before applying your lip gloss, “it’s fine. Go give Jade a ride. I don’t care, honestly.”
“You… don’t care?” he asked slowly.
“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’ with your lips. “I really don’t.”
Bucky muttered his goodbyes, promising to see you at the party. As soon as he closed the door behind him, you closed your eyes, gripping the backrest of your vanity chair until your knuckles were white, your fingernails digging crescents into the palms of your hands.
You might have been able to lie to Bucky, but you couldn’t lie to yourself. You did care. You still cared very, very much.
<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->
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thyme-in-a-bubble · 19 hours
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croissant - send me a sfw request! 
grumpy!bucky x sunshine!reader first kiss
a/n: you know, you know, us two we've been back in it with this dude recently 🫠
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
masterlist | join my taglist |  join my 10k celebration!
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“So,” uncontrollable giggles bubbled out of you as you beamed over at Bucky beside you on the bench, “I was just wondering if maybe–…”
Not peeling his steely glance away from the ducks swimming through the park’s lake, “what?” he absentmindedly grumbled, “just spit it out, please.” 
“Can I, uhm…” your body practically wiggled as you finally asked, “can I kiss you?”
You could have counted on only one hand how many times you’d seen Bucky crack a smile in the time you’d known him. But as your fluttery words found his wind-chilled ears like an ethereal butterfly, you could now officially start using both of your hands. 
Twisting his gaze away from the patch of flora and fauna in the middle of the bustling city, Bucky smiled softly back at you for a flash before his fingers, which had been curled behind you and rested on the bench, then curved over the nape of your neck as he brought you close to meet him halfway.
His kiss was slow and soft, like sipping on a steaming mug of hot chocolate on a freezing day, his radiating lips seemed to warm you from within and conjure a soft sigh to seep from your lungs. 
“Yes, Y/n,” he gently pulled back, his grasp now cupped against your hot cheek, “of course you can kiss me. You can kiss me all you’d like.”
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© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 
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lana-angel-writes · 2 days
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Winter’s Kitten
Pairing| Bucky Barnes x reader (gender is not really specified)
Summary| Bucky comes home from the market with a very unexpected but adorable surprise.
Warnings| Absolutely none- Just some random cute fluff
Materlist
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Today was a very cold winter day in brooklyn and you had sent bucky out to get more bread from the corner market. It started snowing when he left, which was thirty minutes ago, and it was getting really thick and windy. You were starting to get worried, what if something happened to him? You decided to give it ten minutes until you were going to call him and make sure he wasn’t in trouble. Just as you were about to go to get your phone the door to your shared apartment opened. When Bucky walked through the entry he was covered in snow from head to toe, with a grocery bag in his hand. But what you also didn’t miss to notice was the abnormal lump coming off of his abdomen. “Hey doll, sorry it took me so long, the weathers really getting bad out there.” You stood in front of him speechless did he not think you noticed the now moving lump under his coat. “Buck, what's under your coat?” One thing you always found cute about Bucky was that he couldn’t lie to you. The give away signs were that he couldn’t look you in the eyes, and he’d blush. And right now the big super soldier in front of you looked like a schoolgirl with a crush. “Well, I uh, found her outside on my way back from the market, she doesn’t have a home doll.” As he unzipped his coat a ball of white fluff appeared. “Baby, is that a cat?”,”Yeah.” As soon as Bucky spoke the cat started to move, she tried to crawl up his chest but ended up snuggling back into his arms. Now that she adjusted you could actually see the cat's features,she had big bright blue eyes and tiny little ears.You could now totally understand why he couldn’t leave her behind. She was adorable and the way she looked at you just made you want to melt. “So what do you think of her doll? Can we keep her?” You had no idea your boyfriend could look so innocent, he was giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes with a pout on his lips. How could you ever say no to him or the adorable cat. “Of course we can keep her, Buck.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the pure excitement on his face and as if the cat knew she had just found a permanent home she jumped out of Bucky’s arms and started to inspect the cozy apartment. After Bucky took off his jacket and boots he pulled you into his arms. “Thank you doll.” Instead of answering him you pulled your head off of his chest to kiss his stubbled jaw. Bucky moved his head down to give you a proper kiss and right before your lips touched there was a loud crash in the living room. "Well I better go check what that was.", "Yeah, I think that's a good idea,Buck."
Later that night when you and Bucky were settled down in bed, he asked “What about alpine.”, “What do you mean Buck?”, “For our new addition to the family.” You loved how easily Bucky said ‘family’ . You felt honored and proud that you were able to keep that special place in his heart.Since Bucky was the one who brought the cat home you thought that he should have the honor of naming her. “I think that's perfect, baby.”
Just after Bucky went to sleep a certain fluffy white cat decided she was going to sleep right on Bucky's chest. You couldn’t help the smile that came across your face, the sight of a man, most are afraid of cuddling with a little cat, was so wholesomely adorable. You were glad that Bucky brought home your new addition to your little family.
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I think it would be great! Plus, l have a request. What if, bucky and y/n are getting married (plus y/n is a shy one 🙂) and y/n never drank any alcohol before and on the other hand, bucky, Has already drank alcohol more than he can count. So, they go wine tasting. A week before their wedding and while they're half way doing the wine thing y/n starts to get dizzy and feeling a bit hot. To which she doesn't know that she's starting to get tipsy and bucky notices it. And with that, that means she has a low tolerance in alcohol. And when the wine take its effects, She's all goofy and doing anything without a care in the world even if it's embarrassing herself as if all her shyness is gone
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thanks so much for the prompt and for your patience :) i hope you like it!
bucky barnes x reader
words: 427
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Perhaps, Bucky thinks, he may have misjudged just how much of a lightweight you'd be.
You'd told him early on in your relationship that you didn't drink, not because of any other reason than you being kind of scared of making a fool of yourself. He'd thought it was cute and never pushed you to drink whenever the two of you went out on dates or to hang out with friends.
Now, you're engaged and a week away from the wedding, and the last thing that needed preparing was the wine. It was Natasha’s idea to go to a wine tasting and you were a little unsure, but then Bucky said it could be a sweet, romantic getaway before the big day. You agreed easily after that.
And besides, how bad could it really be?
“Jesus, fuck, where's the air-con in this place?” you whine, quite loudly, pulling other people’s attention towards where you and Bucky were seated.
He offers everyone an apologetic smile and turns back to you, rubbing a soothing hand along your back. “Baby, we’re outdoors. There isn't any air conditioning.”
You whine again, head flopping onto his shoulder. “But it's so hot, Bucky.”
“I think you're just a little drunk, baby,” he replies with a soft laugh.
You only had a glass and a half before you started complaining about your cheeks feeling hot, and another two glasses for your eyes to go glassy. He's been fascinated, in all honesty. He's never seen someone get drunk so fast.
“Nuh-uh!” you protest, lifting your head to blink heavy lidded eyes at him.
Bucky grins and brushes your hair away from your face. “Okay,” he agrees, placating, “but maybe we should head back to the hotel.”
You blink at him again and then you smile, slow and suggestive, tilting your chin down as you slide a hand high up on his thigh.
“Yeah? Wanna do naughty things to me?”
He catches your hand before it reaches his groin, torn between laughing and groaning. “Not when you're drunk,” he retorts gently.
Inexplicably, your eyes begin to water. “You don't want me?” you ask in a pitiful tone.
“I always want you, baby,” Bucky responds immediately. “You know you drive me crazy, can hardly control myself around you. “
“Oh,” you beam, tears forgotten. You lean into his space and plant a wet, messy kiss on his lips. “Okay. Take me home, big guy.”
When you wake up the next morning, hungover and pouting, you make Bucky swear to keep you away from the wine during the reception.
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your-eternal-lies · 2 days
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Love is a Choice (chapter five - finale)
Main Navigation || Bucky Barnes Masterlist “Love is a Choice” Masterlist
Pairing — Bucky Barnes x Agent f!Reader Series Summary — In your experience, relationships only bring drama and heartbreak, and you want absolutely none of it. That is, until an act of sheer recklessness brings Bucky Barnes back into your life.
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Warnings — Angst, more blood and injury, devastating revelations (but nothing we didn’t already know!), and if it’s any consolation, I concluded this on a happy note with some fluff and a non-explicit smut scene at the very end. That’s pretty much it!
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Love is a Choice
Chapter Five (finale)
Bucky’s metal arm whirrs with a barely audible hum, the vibranium plates shifting to optimize for combat as he steps into the fray. Bullets splinter the air, a savage symphony of chaos and destruction. His instincts, honed through countless battles, snap into focus as he catches a glint of danger in his periphery. 
With one fluid motion, propelled by a potent blend of adrenaline and fear for someone other than himself, he lunges. The Hydra agents, clad in their nondescript tactical gear, might as well be faceless nameless drones, but each represents a threat to you and your safety. 
And he can’t have that. In the shattered peace of the northern Canadian wilderness, he becomes the storm. 
He runs out of bullets pretty fast, so he tosses his rifle aside and lets his fists do the rest. They come down on his enemies like iron, his movements a blur—a dance of destruction honed by decades of stride. 
The air is filled with the clamour of combat, grunts and thuds of flesh and cracking bones, punctuated by the sharp cracks of splintering wood as his precious cabin bears witness to a battle between his indomitable will and a relentless tide of adversaries. 
Bucky fights with the ferocity of a man who knows the stake of every punch thrown, every kick landed. Each surge of his enhanced muscles, every pivot and parry, speaks to a silent promise he’s made to the woman in the cabin behind him—a vow to protect, to endure, to never yield until the cavalry of red, white, and blue storms over the horizon. 
“Come on, Steve,” he mutters under his breath, keeping one eye above the tree line. He can almost picture Steve’s disapproving frown at the recklessness he knows all too well in himself, but for Bucky there’s no room for doubt or hesitation. 
He will not fall, not when the mission of his life is on the line. 
“Stand down, Soldat,” one of the agents has the audacity to admonish him, pointing a rifle right at Bucky’s forehead. The latter practically growls, his chest swelling with a sense of satisfaction at the way the agent takes an uneasy step backwards. 
“That’s not my name,” Bucky snarls, his metal hand darting out so quick that the agent doesn’t have the time to register the movement. He grasps the barrel of the rifle, easily twisting it backwards and rendering the weapon utterly useless. 
His other arm then swings in a wide arc, his fist connecting with the agent’s jaw in a grim percussion of bone and sinew. His focus is sharp, each movement calculated, as he pivots and delivers a kick that sends another agent flying across the clearing. 
Suddenly, his thoughts loop back to Alpine’s serene gaze, one that’s saved him so many times since he’s come here. To Steve’s brotherly admonition, ones that always made him roll his eyes but smile at the same time. To you; a vision of your gentle eyes, the melodic cadence of your voice, and the feel of your lips against his. 
It’s for you, all of you—a feline’s contented purr, a friend’s unwavering loyalty, and a lover’s unspoken pact, all rolled up in the promise of warmth—that Bucky wills his body to endure, to become both shield and sworn against the encroaching darkness. 
Blood slicks his knuckles, the skin there now split and raw, his breathes coming out in harsh drags, hot and ragged against the winter chill. 
Keep them safe. Those three words are a mantra that pulses in his veins, louder than the ringing in his ears, more insistent than the fatigue that claws at his limbs. 
But then a sharp pain blossoms across his ribcage, one Hydra agent having found purchase with a serrated blade. Bucky grunts, twisting away, pressing his hand against the wound. The sensation of being outgunned begins to settle like lead in his gut, and he scans for an opening, any respite, but finds none. 
A searing heat lances through his thigh, a bullet finding its mark despite his enhanced reflexes. The force staggers him, and for a moment, the battle dims to a distant thunder. Bucky drops to one knee, feeling the warm wetness spreading down his leg, the coppery scent of his own life force spilling onto the snow. 
He clutches at the wound, his face contorting in not just pain, but in a sudden, piercing fear. 
It cuts deeper than any knife, more devastating than any bullet—the realization that he might not walk away from this, that the story he shares with you might end in a cold and lonely epilogue. 
Bucky thought he had been prepared to die for you out here, if it meant buying the rest of the team enough time. But damn it, he almost laughs, he’s afraid. 
After all this time, after all those days wishing he were dead, the will to live strikes him like a lightning bolt. He wants to finish this, to go back to you and reaffirm the words he’d been so scared to say to you in New York, but had come so easily in the moments just before he left you under the trap door. 
He wants your mornings, your touches, to turn those dreams of his that always seemed so distant into reality. 
And so he embraces the fear and pushes the doubt aside, buries it beneath layers of sheer grit and will, pushing against the ever-present spectre whispering of rest. He can’t stop here, not yet. 
Bucky rises once more to meet the onslaught. The air is thick with the scent of carbon and burning flames, and although the odds are daunting, relief suddenly floods his veins. There is a rumbling just beyond the trees, the ground beneath him quaking from the force of an impending arrival. 
A shadow sweeps over the battlefield, massive and imposing, a familiar silhouette of salvation. Bucky looks up through lashes wet with sweat and blood, just as the sleek shape of a quinjet cuts across the night sky, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. 
The Avengers are here. 
Bucky continues to fight, not just for life, but for every memory yet to be made, for every smile you might grace him with, for every gentle touch of Alpine against his skin, all in a world where peace is more than just a fleeting dream. 
For the chance to love again, without the shadow of grief and guilt looming over him. Because while there’s so much worth dying for, there is infinitely more worth living for. 
The roar of the quinjet’s engines drown out the symphony of battle. Steve, of course, is the first to emerge, his shield a bright disk against the gloom, catching the light as if to banish the darkness that’s come to consume his friend. 
Close behind, Sam soars under the cover his mechanical wings, a guardian angel clad in steel and resolve. Wanda’s crimson energy dances at her fingertips, her eyes glowing red as she rains hell down on her foes,  barely a foot out of the jet’s doors. 
Natasha’s movements are a silent ballet, deadly and precise, while Clint’s arrows never fail to find their marks. Even Tony Stark, encased in his gleaming red and gold armour, lands with a ground-shaking thud, his repulsors already humming with lethal intent. 
Together, the team moves as one. Bucky watches, his breath hitching, the weight of his body dangerously tempted to yield to the exhaustion, as his comrades turn the tide. 
Clint lands at his side, and despite the circumstances, cracks a smile. “C’mon, Tin Man, hold yourself together.” 
“Ugh, you’re about damn fucking time,” Bucky groans. He will never admit it, but he’s never been happier to see Clint or his dumb little smirk. 
“Tony, Sam, secure the perimeter,” Steve calls out, his voice a steady drumbeat against the turmoil. The two don’t need to be told twice before they’re flying off, taking down more agents on the way like they’re nothing more than falling autumn leaves. 
“Natasha,” Bucky manages, his voice hoarse with exertion and urgency. “She’s in the cabin. Keep her safe.” 
“Already on it,” she replies, her tone sharp and sure as the knives at her belt. She slips away like a wraith, darting towards the wooden sanctuary where you remain hidden from the carnage, her red hair flying in the wind behind her. 
The fight rages on, but now with the might of the Avengers tipping the scales. Bucky feels the burden on his shoulders ease every so slightly, even as his body protests each movement. He fights with the knowledge that you will be safe, that Natasha will guard you with the same ferocity with which he’s been battling. 
Together, the team turns the tide, the remaining Hydra agents falling one by one until the forest floor lays littered with the vanquished. Bucky stands amidst the ruin, his breaths coming out in shallow gasps, the world around him narrowing to pinpricks of light against a closing curtain of darkness. 
His muscles tremble with the aftershocks of battle; each heartbeat deafeningly loud in his own ears, drowning out the distant calls and quiet chatter of his teammates as they finish securing the perimeter. 
Bucky sways on his feet, battered, bruised, and spent, allowing himself a moment to lean on the strength of his friends. Suddenly, he lies sprawled in the snow, feeling the cool embrace of the earth beneath him. The edges of Bucky’s vision frays, pulling at the seams of consciousness. 
Steve is at his side in an instant, eyes etched with concern as he implores, “Stay with us, bud.” 
It’s then, among the invading shadows, that a piercing cry shatters the air—a siren’s call that claws its way through the haze. 
“Bucky!” It’s you, your voice laced with terror and something that sounds a lot like love, a symphony that plays upon the most vulnerable strings of his battered heart. In that moment, before the void can swallow him whole, Bucky finds the strength in the resonance of your call. 
He fights against the pull of darkness, wanting nothing more than to get up, to reassure you with a soft touch, a gentle word, anything. But his limbs betray him, heavy as lead and twice as cold. 
“Bucky, I’m here!” He hears you again, his body jostled as you slide into the snow next to him. He feels your hands on his face, your tears splashing onto his cheeks. 
And then, surrendering to the exhaustion, Bucky allows the darkness to envelop him, the echo of your voice a lullaby that carries him toward the uncertain embrace of sleep. 
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The sleek doors to the compound hiss open, revealing an expanse of a room that could swallow modest homes whole. There’s a hum in the air, the kind that smells like money and buzzes with gadgets that probably haven’t even hit the market yet. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls offer a greedy view of the Manhattan skyline in the distance, but none of that holds her attention. 
Natasha Romanoff stands there, the sterile scent of antiseptic wafting through the dimly lit medical wing. She glides between the beds until she reaches your bedside, a tangle of wires and monitors attached to your unconscious figure. You stir, lashes fluttering as if you can feel her next to you. 
“Bucky?” You ask, your first thought not for yourself but for him. 
“He’s in the other room,” Natasha replies, her tone even, betraying none of the concern within her emerald eyes. “They’re patching him up. Super soldier serum works wonders.” 
“And Alpine?” 
“I’m assuming that’s the cat,” Natasha cracks a tiny smile, “Tony’s keeping her company. I think he’s taken a liking to her.” 
The redhead sits on the edge of your bed, her posture impeccable, and yet somehow still conveying the weariness in her shoulders. A thick and heavy silence suddenly falls between you, and you can’t help but tense under her scrutiny.
“Natasha, I—” you begin, but she holds up a hand, interrupting the apologies you’re ready to spill forth. 
“Going rogue on that mission,” she starts, her voice soft but firm, “because you did technically go rogue, kroshka, was more than reckless. Your behaviour’s becoming a pattern; I thought it’d be better to give you some space, some time to work through everything that’s happened, but it’s just getting worse.” 
There’s a maternal edge to her admonishment, tempered by an understanding of someone who had once danced on the knife’s edge of danger herself. It’s why your gaze falls away, the heat of shame crawling up your neck. 
You know you’ve made a mistake, that your impulsive decision had almost cost you everything. “I know,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, “and I put Bucky at risk too.” 
The confession is a small surrender, the first verbal acknowledgement of the fragility that lays beneath your normally hardened exterior. Natasha reaches out, her hand resting lightly on yours, a silent reassurance on top of the regret. 
“Almost didn’t make it out this time,” Natasha continues. The subtext is clear: she could ill afford to lose you, not to death, nor to the darkness that seems to claw at your soul. 
“It won’t happen again,” you promise, looking her straight in the eye. She holds your gaze for a few seconds, and even though she has every right to, there’s not a single trace of doubt in her eyes. 
“Good,” she says, squeezing your hand, her lips curving up into the smallest of smiles. It’s only then that you notice she’s holding a tablet in her other hand, cradled carefully in her lap. Her eyes follow your gaze and she inhales sharply, the air in the room shifting as her sisterly demeanour is replaced by that of an agent’s. 
“What is it?” You ask, watching as her fingers dance across the screen. She angles it toward you, casting a pale glow against the sheets. 
“We found this at the Hydra base,” Natasha says, turning her eyes away from the screen and back onto you. You watch, breath hitching as the grainy footage sputters to life. The video shows a hauntingly familiar corridor, and there he is—the Winter Soldier, a phantom from the past, his metal arm gleaming as he dispatches guard after guard with ruthless efficiency. 
“Natasha, I can’t…” your voice trails off, strangled by the lump forming in your throat. The images of your own gaunt figure lying limp in Natasha’s arms comes into view, all the while the Soldier moved with a singular purpose, stepping into harm’s path so you can make your escape. “Nat, you couldn’t have known. We… we barely made it out of there as it was.” 
“Should’ve known,” she retorts, more to herself than you. Her words are steeped in self-reproach; for the Black Widow to overlook the details was not something that occurred often. “He was there, fighting for us—for you—and I didn’t even sense it.” 
“I guess even the best of us have our blind spots.” You try to joke, but it lands totally flat. 
“I guess so,” she agrees, never taking her eyes off you, the underlying meaning of her words suddenly making you emotional. 
“Were you ever going to tell me he was there?” She asks, but her voice holds no malice. In fact, you see regret in her eyes too, another reason for all those years of secrecy. Your heart clenches at the idea of stirring up ghosts that haunt Bucky, but it cracks under the thought that it might do the same for Natasha. 
You shake your head, admitting you would have taken it to your grave if you could. Your sister looks crushed, one of her hands coming to rest against the side of your head. 
“Why do you always suffer alone, little sister?” 
“Because some secrets are worth enduring for.” 
She doesn’t argue with you there. “You have to tell him, at least.” 
You scoff, turning away and pulling your blanket over your head. She’s having none of it, yanking it off you with surprising force. “Hey, I’m injured here!” 
“He needs to know, kroshka,” Natasha insists, her earnest gaze piercing through your defences. “He needs to know that not all of his past is soaked in blood. That even in the darkest of times, he did something good, something noble.” 
Your chest grows heavy with sadness, the walls of the infirmary seeming to close in as the truth looms large over the both of you. 
“How can I?” Your voice trembles, your eyes glazing over with tears. “After everything he’s been through, how can I dredge up those memories? They’re just echoes, Natasha. Echoes of a person he doesn’t even remember being.” 
“Because,” she replies, her voice softening. “He needs to hear the truth, and he deserves to hear it from you.” 
Right on cue, the door to the infirmary slides open with a hushed whirr,  and your conversation falls into a startled hush. Bucky stands at the threshold, his posture the embodiment of recovered strength, the super soldier serum having mended his flesh and bones with uncanny speed. 
His eyes, however, bear the weight of experiences that no serum could erase. Still, he tries to smile for you. “Hey there.” 
Your heart stutters at the sight of him, every wound on your body protesting as you attempt to sit up. Natasha places a gentle hand on your shoulder, easing you back onto the pillows. 
“Take it easy,” Natasha advises, a knowing smile gracing her lips. “He’s not going anywhere.” 
“Romanoff,” Bucky nods in acknowledgement, his glance briefly meeting hers before settling on you with an intensity that seems to anchor you both to the spot. 
“I’ll give you two a moment,” Natasha says, her voice a mere thread of sound in the charged atmosphere of the room. Her steps are silent as she crosses the space between you, and before she exits, she pauses at the door, her hand lingering on the frame. 
She turns to share a final look with you, a silent exchange fraught with meaning. You know what it means even without saying anything; it’s a look that implores you to embrace the vulnerability of truth, and a look that promises, no matter what the outcome, that she would never leave you to face the storm alone. 
With one last nod, she steps out into the hallway, leaving you and Bucky enveloped in the aftermath of her departure. You watch as Bucky approaches carefully, his broad shoulders squared, his footsteps measured. 
“Hey,” he says again, “how are you feeling?” 
“Fine,” you reply as he sits down in a chair next to your bed. He reaches out and gently brushes a stray lock of hair from your face. “A little morphine makes everything a lot better.” 
Bucky grins, but it falters after a second or two. “About what happened back at the cabin…” 
I love you. 
Sometimes, I get the strangest feeling that I have for a really long time. 
You look away, the vulnerability in his voice making your stomach lurch. It’s only been a few hours, and yet it feels like a lifetime ago. 
“I don’t want you to feel pressured to… to say anything. Nothing has to change,” he says, his gaze steadfast and tender. “But I want you to know I meant it. Every word.” 
You remember how he was like the last time he was in New York, his always solitary figure against the chaos of the city, a man out of time seeking a place in a world that had moved on without him. 
He’s stronger than you will ever be, but in that moment, emboldened by his admission, you reach for the tablet Natasha left behind. You activate the screen, before hesitating for another moment. 
“What’s wrong?” Bucky asks, sitting a little straighter in his chair. 
Maybe nothing, maybe everything, you think, your throat tight as you hand the tablet to him. His eyes widen as the images play out before him—the Winter Soldier, relentless and lethal, cutting down Hydra agents with a precision that chills blood. 
But there, in the carnage, is a sliver of humanity. He, usually the harbinger of death, had in a single moment turned saviour for two women ensnared by the same darkness that had once claimed him. 
“But that’s…” Bucky starts, wanting to say that’s impossible. “I… I don’t remember this.” 
“That’s you,” you say softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his face on the screen. “You saved us. You saved me.” 
His hand shakes as he sets the device down, the wind knocked from his lungs as realization dawned. “How can I not remember?” 
“Because they didn’t want you to,” you tell him, your own heart aching with the burden of his forgotten moment of heroism. “But it’s true. That was all you… the part of you that Hydra could never touch. Even then.” 
For a moment, silence stretches between you, filled with the ghosts of a shared history. But then the dam bursts, tears betraying your formerly stoic facades, tracing paths down your weathered cheeks. 
“Forgive me,” he pleads, taking your hand and pressing your fingertips to his lips, because while he had forgotten, you had remembered every agonizing second. “I should have known sooner. I should have remembered you.” 
“Don’t do that to yourself,” you tell him, but you can see the self-reproach clinging to him like a second skin. “I’m the one who should be ashamed. You’re always there, always pulling me back from the brink. And I—” 
Your voice breaks, the weight of a confession years in the making pressing down upon your chest. 
“I don’t deserve how you see me. You think I’m strong, capable, but I’m not. I’m just… broken.” The word falls from your lips like the final verdict of a long fought battle, more tears escaping your eyes and dripping onto your pillow. 
“What? No—” 
“I’m always the one needing saving,” you interject, a hint of desperation lacing your words. “You, Natasha, and even Steve. You’ve all saved me and I can’t ever do a damn thing for you.” 
“You done more than enough.” Bucky’s brow creases with concern, his expression crumbling, his hand reaching out before resting on top of yours. 
“How can you love someone like me? I’m nothing. I’m nobody. I don’t even have a name.” All the years of buried feelings, what was crammed into a tiny little box and shoved into the furthest corners of your mind, come rushing forth. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.” 
Bucky looks into your eyes, watching as the last light from the setting sun is replaced with the twinkle of the night stars, the both of you searching for absolution in the other. 
“You’re wrong,” he whispers, hearing your deepest fears and wishing he could take the all away. “You see weakness, I see strength. You see shame, but I see bravery. You think you’re broken, but to me, you are… everything.” 
Damn it all. He’s smiling at you, really smiling, as if with each word the burden lifts from the depths of his soul. And while your rattled brain is constantly telling you that you aren’t worthy, that he deserves more than the mere remnants of a broken woman, your heart screams something else. 
It calls for him. It tells you to stay. Because if you can’t trust the world to make him happy, then you would have to do it yourself. And wouldn’t that be the best thing? To know that you, of all people, a nobody from nowhere, could make him happy? 
“I love you too,” you whisper, your hands stroking his face, your eyes shining as he presses his forehead to yours. “If you’ll still have me.” 
He clutches onto you like you’re the only source of the air that he breathes, like he can’t bear to let you go. 
“Ah, darlin’,” he says, leaning forward to press the achingly lovely curve of his lips to yours, his whispers muffled against your scared watery smile. “It’s you. It’s always been you.” 
And then he’s in your arms. You kiss him once, twice, and then a third time, and you know then that this is the beginning—or rather, the continuation—of something amazing. 
As he whispers love onto your skin, he etches onto your heart that love isn’t about deserving. 
It’s about choosing, again and again. 
And no matter how many times you fall apart or have to put yourself back together, you will always choose Bucky Barnes. 
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. ONE YEAR LATER
You are stunning. 
It’s the only thought Bucky has as he lies back against the pillows, your hands on top of his as he grips your quaking thighs. The cabin, now restored to its former glory and moved to a new secret location, is warm—he’s made sure of it, spent a good ten minutes stoking the fire in its stone hearth just a few feet away, but he watches in awe as his touch raises goosebumps all over your skin. 
Your eyes are wild beneath your hair as you straddle his hips, drawing a shuddering breath from your sweet and always gentle lover. You slide up and down the length of him, your most intimate places pressed together, his grip on your thighs tightening just a touch. 
He’s doing okay until you take him in, slowly, and then rotate your hips, head thrown back and your back arched in pleasure. Bucky gasps, sitting up in a flash and holding you tight. 
“Too much?” You ask in a breathless whisper, your breath quickening as his hands stroke the base of your spine. 
“Too fast,” he chuckles, his words muffled against the delicate curve of your shoulder. He kisses you there sweetly before pulling back enough to look into your face. He wants to make this last, even if it kills him. 
“Then we don’t have to—” You start to say, but then he’s lifting you up… and then back down… so slowly, so deliciously glorious, you can feel your toes start to curl. Your hands grip his strong shoulders, moving with him at the pace he’s set, chest to chest. 
“Do you want to stop?” He asks, mischief and mirth laced in his voice. You reach up to thread your fingers into his hair and pull, just hard enough to make him hiss, before looking down at him with a smile. 
“If you stop, I’ll actually pummel you,” you laugh, the sound unfamiliar even to you, but a sweet warmth spreads through your veins. You didn’t know you could laugh again, after all that, but Bucky just has this way of tearing down your walls, of making you feel things you didn’t think you’d ever feel again. 
“Whatever my darlin’ wants, my darlin’ gets,” Bucky grins as he tilts you back, following you down onto his linen sheets. He settles on top of you, pressing your knees to the bed. Only when you’re whimpering and clawing at his back does he thrust himself all the way inside, right up to the hilt. 
With a cry of his name, you grab at his hips to draw him in, so deep you swear you can feel him right against your beating heart. Bucky buries his face in the crook of your neck, his moist breath gliding over the column of your throat as he speeds up his movements, but still carefully controlled, not stopping even as he feels you begin to spend. 
It’s not until your arms squeeze him tighter, until a sweet scream falls from your lips, your muscles undulating like rolling ocean waves around him, that he finally lets himself go. 
When he can finally feel his limbs again, he pulls back and you’re smiling at him. Tears, despite himself, well up as he presses a kiss to your lips. The sight is becoming more frequent, and each time you grace him with it, he has to admit it still makes him a little breathless.
Outside the cabin, his sanctuary that he now eagerly shares with you, the snow continues to fall silently towards the earth. You drift off to sleep next to him, your hand on his chest, right over his heart. He watches you for a few seconds, his own eyelids growing heavy. He blinks slowly, wanting to savour this moment. 
He vows to make you breakfast in the morning, to make a batch of fresh rolls just as you are being pulled from the lulls of sleep, with Alpine watching almost protectively from her usual spot. 
He promises to call Steve after, to let him know that you’re both settling in nicely in your new home, and that Natasha can stop sending him about a dozen daily text messages requesting status updates. 
He swears that he will one day have the courage to take out the velvet box tucked away in one of the drawers somewhere, and ask you for a yes or no answer. But tonight, he’s content to drift off to sleep beside you—warm, loved, and happy. 
When Bucky opens his eyes the next morning, you are still there, and he remembers this time. He doesn’t just know; he remembers. 
And the sky is new.
Fin.
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Taglist — @cjand10 @pbs-theundeadmaggot @nerdreader @crist1216
Notes — I said I was gonna wait until Friday to post, but eff that lol. I couldn’t wait to share this finale.
So, this story turned into something totally different than what was originally conceived. I don’t know why or how. It was always intended to only have five chapters though, and I supposed I technically could have stretched it out into six parts, but I ultimately decided not to. I’m sorry if this isn’t what you were expecting or hoping for, but I am actually pretty okay with how it turned out in the end.
Thank you to everyone who supported my first fic! 🥹 I hope you enjoyed the angst and the brief fluff at the end! And now I can work on bringing you my rom-com Steve story, You’re Stuck With Me. Stay tuned!! 💖💖💖
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romanestuffsposts · 18 hours
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Can we have a beach day fic maybe the reader is anxious to go in the water at first but as soon as she goes out with her daddies she wants to go as far out as they can reach ❤️❤️❤️
Hi there love! 💜
Of course I can write that for you, I’m so sorry it took that long to be out. I hope you’re okay and will be happy with the fic 🩷
Enjoy beautiful <33
****
Warnings : fear of sea, anxiety, pet names, reassurance, kisses,
Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader
Summary : the beautiful day was about to turn into an anxious one if your Daddies weren’t there to support and help you
A/N : I’m scared of the sea too hihi
****
You arrived.
The beach is actually right in front of you. You can see it through your window, as well as the kids running with sunscreen on their skins or adults walking with sunglasses and nice swimsuits.
But the thing that caught your eyes was the sea.
The deep and infinite water which remains calm in the background of the landscape.
You don’t have much fear in your life. When you were a kid you were scared of big dogs, one day your aunt adopted one and it happens to be your favorite animal now. At your teenage time, you were scared to talk to people, one day you had to talk in front of an assembly to defend the only person who mattered to you. Now you love talking to people when you feel listened to by others.
You’re not scared of the sea, you never had a bad experience with the deep water but maybe it’s for that exact reason that you’re not comfortable with the idea of going in it. You don’t know the sea, you don’t know what’s inside and the whole world that can live under you once you go for a swim.
You watch the family playing int the salty water, you watch kids on their animal-shaped buoy and you don’t understand how they’re just happy and nope scared or full of questions about that underworld.
‘’Sweetie ?’’ It’s the third times that your Papa is calling for you with you door wide open. You snap out of your mind and peer up at him ‘’it’s time to have fun, come on’’
He gave you his hand and help you stepping out of the car. You look around you and see your Daddy coming back from the trunk with towels and a bag. Your Papa keep a good grip on your hand as you all are walking toward the sand. The sensation feels weird against your naked soles and little toes. You’re not used to it.
Your Papa made you remove your shoes and sockets before going on the sand.
‘’Choose a good spot baby’’ your Daddy smiles as he looks down at you. You narrow your eyes because of the sun and point a spot you like once you find one.
‘’Here, remove your clothes so you can feel comfortable, I don’t want you to get too hot with the sun’’ Your Daddy says as he sit down, he opens the bag to put all the clothes in it and take out the sunscreen.
While your Papa removes his clothes, your Daddy applies the cream on your skin, he’s careful to put it everywhere so you won’t get burn. He gives you a little massage at the same time and you’re not going to tell him to stop. When he finish he wraps his arms around your torso and put your back against his chest, his chin fall on your shoulder and he kisses your cheek.
You melt into his arms, filled with all the emotions that are coming out from his body.
‘’I love you’’ he whispers in your ear. A tiny but sweet smile appears on your lips after his words. As your gaze is wondering around the blue sky, you answer him ‘’I love you too Daddy’’ in a quiet but loving voice.
During the three hours you spend there since you arrived you had the chance to build the most beautiful castle with your Papa. You tried to remove sand that were on your eyes because of the wind while your Daddy was laughing his ass off because of the face you were making.
To resume, you had a lots of fun, you didn’t even thought of the sea while you were spending time with your favorite men. That until your Daddy said he wanted to go take a swim with the fishes.
Your happy face changed into a anxious one when your Daddy put all the personal stuff in the bag, making it clear that you all were going in the sea.
They stand up and look down at you ‘’come on it’ll be fun you’ll see’’
You frown and shake your head ‘’I stay here’’ you mumble
‘’Baby, as much as we trust you we can’t let you alone here’’ Your Papa says.
‘’I don’t wanna’’
‘’Why’s that ?’’ He asks, kneeling beside you ‘’what’s wrong, princess ?’’
‘’ ‘m scared’’ You whisper
‘’Of what ? The sea ?’’ Your Daddy joins, kneeling beside you too.
You look at him and nod
‘’Oh babygirl’’ He sighs and sits beside you ‘’I know it can be scared because it’s big and it's the unknown down there so you have all the rights to be scared’’ he takes your hand in his ‘’but if you never take the first step you’ll always be scared. We don’t have to stay for hours in the water nor to go far away for a swim, we can just drop a toe but you can’t let that fear stop you from having the moment of your life’’
‘’Daddy’s right, sweetie. If you hide behind your fear you’ll never step above it to keep going in life, you can’t let that stop you’’ Your Papa adds. They both stand back up an,d give you their hands ‘’so what do you say ? We go drop a toe while watching the sunset before heading home ?’’
You look between them and the sea for a few seconds before nodding your head. They help you going on your feet and keep your hands in theirs while you walk. You stop a few feet from the water causing your Daddy to lift you up and rest you on his hip ‘’hey it’s okay, the water won’t eat you. We’re here with you little one, just as always’’
When your Daddies’s feet are in the water, your Daddy lowers himself so the tip of your toes touch the water. You gasp and retracted your foot ‘’it’s cold, isn’t it ?’’ He chuckles
You nod and smile a little
‘’Take it easy, princess. We have all the time in the world’’
You take a breath and lower you foot again. The cold doesn’t surprise you now, but the sensation of the water does. It’s not that bad in the end.
‘’hey baby look’’ your Papa points at the sky. You turn your head and see the most beautiful sunset you’ve ever seen.
‘’It’s beautiful isn’t it ?’’
Yea, it is… just like the time you spend here with you Daddies.
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purple-babygirl · 14 hours
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welcome baaaack! i missed you so much
i've been here since forever and i remember a very long time ago that you promised us insecure chubby bucky. i never forget and i'm still waiting for him (when you get time for sure). i would love to read that whenever you right it! otherwise i'm really happy you're back again.
much love purple<3
Pairing: Insecure!Chubby!Chef!Bucky Barnes x f!reader Word Count: 4,180 Summary: Bucky runs into his ex, who manages to mess with his head, bringing his insecurities to the surface again. His girl takes it upon herself to show him how perfect he is. Warnings: 18+ content, bullying (sort of), negative self body image, insecurities, intrusive thoughts, mentions of cheating, a little crying, a little angst, smut, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms A/N: Nonnie, omg, you have been here a long time! I love and appreciate you so so much and I can't believe you stuck around for so long wow:"💜💜 Thank you so much for existing and for being here you're the reason I don't wanna leave again💜💜💜 Here's one insecure chubby bucky for you, I hope you like this one and that I did a good job💜 Thank you again ilyyy, please enjoyxx💜💜(y'all i think i forgot how to write smut what is wrong with me) ~
perfect to me
“I’m so sorry, baby, I have to run,” she told him after checking her phone, pecking his lips and taking quick steps down the aisle of the large store.
Bucky smiled, taking another fruit plate and placing it in their cart. His girl was such a hard worker and he couldn’t be prouder.
It was the night before Christmas Eve and his girl was still working hard so Bucky was going to make her the best holiday food she’s ever tasted. He was focused on picking the freshest cranberries when he heard a scoff, a very familiar one.
“Hey, Ryan,” Bucky sighed, not really wanting to ruin his good mood, as he turned around to meet a face he knew too well.
“What does she owe you?” said Ryan, tilting his head with a smirk.
“What?”
“There’s no way this chick is seeing you. I figured she must owe you and is just paying her debt!” He smirked further, not even trying to hide his gloating when he saw that his words still had an effect on Bucky.
“My relationship with her is none of your business.” Bucky’s voice was suddenly low as his eyes stared down at the contents of the cart.
“But my relationship with you is.” Ryan put a finger under Bucky’s chin but the latter took a step away.
“We don’t have a relationship. You cheated on me, remember? I was too fat for you.” Bucky’s shaky voice moved nothing inside Ryan. If anything Ryan wanted more.
“And now you’re too fat for her.”
“Shut up. She is nothing like you.”
“Really? Do you even know where she goes when she leaves you? Where she is right now, for example?” Ryan smirked.
“She got called into work and had to run to the office.” Bucky knew he owed him nothing and if he was in his right mind he wouldn’t have went through a conversation with Ryan at all, but he wasn’t.
“How are you still so naïve?” He laughed heartily as if Bucky’s misery was actually amusing to him.
“Leave me alone.” Bucky tried to push the shopping cart and walk away, but Ryan stepped before him.
“I didn’t know your publisher lived in an office.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She leaves you to go fuck your publisher. You know him, black guy, sexily built, very handsome.”
The words left Bucky feeling lightheaded as the world seemed to twirl around him. Could history be repeating itself? No, not this time. His girl was not like that.
“I saw her coming to his building with him.”
“How’d you even-”
“I wait tables in the restaurant across the street from his apartment. I didn’t know she was with you but damn are you lucky you met me today!” Ryan laughed insensitively.
“It’s probably someone else.”
“I think I know what your publisher looks like.”
“You’re lying,” Bucky chocked out, trying to get out of Ryan’s way.
“You don’t sound so sure about that.” Ryan tilted his head again with a smug smirk, poking Bucky’s tummy, “you know why? Because deep down you know she’s too sexy for you. Because you look at her and then at yourself and you can’t figure out why she’d want you. Because you know that sooner or later she’s gonna get tired of your fat ass and—”
“My life now is none of your business, Ryan. You left. You chose to go, so stay gone.” Bucky’s weak voice interrupted, shutting Ryan right up before he sped out of the store, leaving the groceries behind.
“You’ll come back to me when you see for yourself!” He shouted after Bucky, but he didn’t stop nor turn back.
He thought the days where Ryan messed with his head were long gone but he was obviously mistaken. Ryan could still easily hurt him. He could still make him feel as large as an elephant yet smaller than an insect. The dagger he’d planted was in so deep that Bucky couldn’t feel anything but the pain the stab brought. ~ His ex’s words plagued his mind. They took over and drowned out his girl’s voice, pushing it to the background.
The questions he had raised in Bucky’s head, Bucky had no answers for them himself. Why was this sweet girl with him? What did she see in him? Anyone who met them thought the same thing: they didn’t belong together. So what did she see differently? What was Bucky bringing to their relationship? Could he even satisfy her? Could he keep her fulfilled?
All of a sudden, Bucky was very aware of his size, of the way the couch made the slightest sounds under his weight, and the way his girl could fit her whole self on one of his thighs if she wanted to.
“Bucky bear?” A hand on his cheek pulled him out of his thoughts.
Suddenly, he hated the words she nicknamed him with. Bear? Is that how big she thought he was?
“Hmm?”
“I was asking if you wanna go shopping for last minute gifts with me tomorrow,” she repeated, smiling sweetly, her fingers brushing a few hairs back and behind Bucky’s ear as she yawned.
Bucky’s new cookbook became a best seller after one week of release and the publication house was throwing the amazing chef a party.
She couldn’t be prouder and she wanted to support Bucky all the way. She loved Christmas and now it was going to be even better with this event added to their memories.
She was going to go all out for her man and he didn’t even know it. It was going to be a huge surprise and she couldn’t wait to make it happen.
“Yeah, why not,” Bucky replied, faking a smile back.
“What were you busy thinking about?” Her thumb traced his stubbly cheek as she frowned worriedly.
For a wonderfully successful cook, Bucky didn’t look so happy.
“You,” he answered with the truth though his eyes didn’t sparkle like they usually would at the thought of her.
“What about me?” Her smile returned as she stared lovingly at Bucky’s face.
“Why are you with me?” Bucky couldn’t hide the sorrow in his voice if he tried.
“What?” She sat up straight in his lap as her face fell.
“Please don’t make me repeat the question.”
“Buck, where’s this coming from?” Her hands cupped both his cheeks.
“I just don’t get it.” He shook his head, swallowing as his hands removed hers from his face.
“Don’t get what?!” She placed her hands on Bucky’s chest instead, refusing to let him push her away.
“Why you’re here!”
“I’m here because I love you, what’s hard to get, baby?”
“Do you really love me?”
This was serious. She’s never seen her boyfriend look so broken.
“James, what’s going on?”
“Answer the question, plum,” Bucky requested, the back of his fingers stroking over her cheek, knowing this was probably the last time he would get to touch her soft skin.
“Of course I love you!”
“Then why do you leave me to go meet Sam and then lie to me about it?!” Bucky unintentionally raised his voice.
“W—what?”
There were so many emotions overwhelming her and none of them was pleasant.
She was shocked, hurt and dejected. Bucky has never raised his voice at her before.
 “What were you doing together last night? And the night before and the night before that?!”
“Bucky, you’ve got it all wrong.” She shook her head, heartbroken that Bucky would think of her like that.
“Please leave.” He slid her off his lap and stood up, turning his back to her.
“Bucky.” Tears pricked her eyes.
“Leave, plum.”
“Bucky, me and Sam were—”
“If you won’t leave then I will.” Bucky sped to the door, grabbing his jacket from where it was hanged.
The last thing he wanted was to cry in front of her too. He’s already shown his weakness once; never again.
“Bucky!”
He ignored her calls, ready to run out of the door and let his legs take him far away where he’d have to hear no lies and could no longer get hurt.
“James Bucky Barnes, don’t you dare walk out on me!” She blocked the door, preventing Bucky from exiting the apartment.
Her eyes glistened with yet to be shed tears as her heart pounded in her chest. The mere idea of losing Bucky for any reason terrified her more than anything else.
She loved the man with her heart and soul and would go to the ends of the Earth for his sake. Why couldn’t he see that?
“I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise but… your book is a best seller. Me and Sam were planning you a party to celebrate. We figured if we met at the restaurant it’d ruin the surprise so I saw him at his place after work.”
Bucky stared at her dumbly.
“You can call Sam if you don’t believe me.”
“Oh.” Bucky felt like someone’s just dumped a bucket of cold water over his head; felt like an absolute idiot, “oh, plum.”
“I’m sorry I kept it a secret, but I’m not sorry I wanted to do something nice for the man I love.” A tear rolled down her cheek and her lower lip trembled, “and I’m really sad with you for stalking me and doubting me like that. I didn’t expect that from you, Bucky… and I’m hurt.”
“Sweet plum-”
“You can leave now if you still want to.” She took quick steps to the bedroom, leaving Bucky at the open door.
It wasn’t often that she and Bucky fought and it was never something that couldn’t be solved within an hour. He could never bear to see her upset, let alone let her go to bed mad at him.
But this was big. Bucky has doubted her love for him. He’s insulted her loyalty and ruined everything because of his insecurities and the poisonous words of a man who never cared for him.
“Plum,” Bucky softly knocked on her door, swallowing the lump stuck in his throat, “can I please come in?”
She opened the door for him in a heartbeat, her face soaked in tears.
“No, no, sweet plum.” Bucky took her in his arms, praying to the deities she wouldn’t repel from his touch.
“You pushed me out of your lap.” She cried, her chest heaving and her forehead pressed to his shoulder.
His accusations hurt but the fact that he pushed her away somehow hurt her more.
Bucky couldn’t help but let his tears fall as well.
How could he be so thoughtless? She was the one good thing in his life and he almost let her go. No amount of restaurants he could open could make him feel as happy as a smile from her would.
He could write a library and collect every prize ever known to humankind, and she would still be the best thing Bucky has ever won over.
“I’m stupid, baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hold tightened, engulfing her smaller frame in a desperate hug, “please don’t cry because of an idiot like me. I’m sorry, sweet plum. Forgive me, baby.”
“Why’d you do it?” her sad eyes looked at him in question, full of confusion yet void of bitterness.
“I- sweet plum-” Bucky didn’t know how to answer her question because now that he looked back he could see how stupid it all was.
Why did he follow her for 3 consecutive nights while she went to meet Sam instead of just trusting her? Why did he choose to believe and trust in Ryan’s words and not her love for him? Why was it easier for him to imagine her with someone like Sam but impossible to think of her with someone like himself?
“It’s because I’m a big idiot,” Bucky replied.
“Bucky.”
“Please forgive me, plum.” Bucky pecked her temple.
“Tell me what happened.”  She demanded softly, wiping Bucky’s own tears away and kissing his chin.
“Nothing happened, sweet plum. I got inside my own head again. I’m sorry, baby.” Bucky lied with a sad smile, too ashamed to admit Ryan’s words almost had him ruining the best relationship he’s ever been in.
She nodded understandingly, her hand cupping Bucky’s face as she rested his forehead on hers.
Bucky would tell her when he was ready. She didn’t want to stay mad at him. She knew he had issues with self confidence and she wasn’t about to make him feel even worse. He would come to her when he was comfortable. Bucky would tell her on his own.
“Please stay.” She whispered, her teary eyes heavy with sleep, yet afraid to go to bed and have Bucky leave after.
“I’m not going anywhere, sweet plum.” Bucky kissed her forehead, taking her by the hand to their bed.
~
“You know you can talk to me, right?” Her soothing voice whispered, filling the dark room.
Bucky was laying wide awake, Ryan’s words playing in his ears over and over again. What he did to his girl and how he made her cry. All the messed up shit he did just hours ago gnawed at him and took the sleep away from his eyes.
“I ran into Ryan,” Bucky finally replied, unable to sleep while he’s hiding something from her, “he filled my head with thoughts about you leaving me for Sam, and I let him.” He admitted to the ceiling, hesitant to meet her eyes.
“I would never leave you,” she promised him without reluctance, cupping his face and making him look at her.
She wanted him to see all the love her eyes held for him with no shame.
“Please don’t. I will lose the weight, I will—”
“Wait, what? He told you I’d leave you because of your weight?” both hands were back on Bucky’s cheeks, thumbs wiping under his eyes.
Bucky nodded.
“And you believed him?”
“It’s why he left me.” He shrugged.
“Bucky,” she sighed.
“I know I know. It’s what’s on the inside that counts—”
“Don’t talk as if you’re not physically breathtaking!”
“Baby—”
“No! You have no idea how handsome you are, do you?!”
“Plum, you don’t have to say such stuff.” Bucky shook his head sheepishly and regretted it when he saw sadness cover her delicate features.
She quickly shook it off, scratching her forehead before taking Bucky’s hand, helping him sit up in their bed.
“Sweet plum, what are you doing?” Bucky asked when she started moving the covers down his torso.
“Gonna love on my man. Would you let me, Bucky? Can I love on you?” she asked, her voice soft and sweet.
Bucky nodded, hypnotized by the adoration shining in her eyes and she started to undress him.
Her eyes never left his as she took piece by piece of clothing off, revealing his beautiful figure to her, her smile only faltering when she bit down at the sight of her man in all his naked glory.
Bucky’s body was lit up under the soft moonlight coming from the window, helping her appreciate every curve and inch.
“You’re so fucking sexy you take my breath away,” she moaned, slipping out of her own sweater, “and I don’t just mean the way you make me cum so many times until I have to fight for oxygen.” She brushed her lips on his. Bucky was speechless. He could only stare and try not to lose his own oxygen.
This gorgeous human being was his and he was hers.
“Keep your eyes open for me, Buck.” She pecked his lips once and he opened his eyes at once, not even realizing he’d closed them in the first place.
She smiled at how fast he followed the instruction, leaning back on the headboard and licking his lips.
Bucky’s groan when her bra hit the ground made her giggle. She slipped out of her panties, leaving herself bare before Bucky’s eyes.
“Come here, plum,” Bucky’s arms reached for her but she shook her head.
“This is about you, Bucky Bear.”
She climbed on the bed between Bucky’s legs, her hands wandering along his shins, thumbs caressing up his inner thighs. She bowed forward, peppering kisses on Bucky’s soft flesh.
“I love your thighs,” her lips moved higher and higher, the tiny kisses and nibbles driving Bucky crazy as he tried not to touch himself, “love how thick they are. So strong. So perfect. I would ride them all day if you’d let me.”
Bucky whimpered when she accompanied the honest words with a bite, leaving her mark on his pale flesh.
“And that ass,” she moaned, her hands sliding underneath Bucky, pulling his legs up and cupping his ass cheeks.
Bucky’s shy gasp made her smirk. He was so precious she could eat him. Maybe she should some day…
She let Bucky’s legs settle back on the bed and kept kissing up and up, skipping his twitching cock on purpose and placing wet kisses on his tummy instead. Her eyes locked with his and Bucky bit his pink lip.
He looked so beautiful, blushing, disheveled and turned on like that. His pupils were dilated, his cheeks rosy and his breath uneven; she was falling in love with this chef all over again.
“I love your tummy so so much,” her tongue dipped in Bucky’s bellybutton and the flush spread from his cheeks and on to his neck and chest.
Another moan slipped from his lips as her warm tongue lapped at his skin. She was full on licking him now.
Her words were romantic but the way she was loving him was driving him insane.
“I love to feel it against me when we hug,” she kissed his right side, “I love when you let me rest my head on it and I get to hear you breathe and feel your heartbeat,” she kissed his belly, “I love how it warms my back when you spoon me. And I love feeling it pushing against my ass when you take me from behind.” She pressed a final kiss to his left side.
“My favourite has got to be your cock though.” She gave his leaking dick a single pump and his hips were already bucking off the bed, “I’m a sucker for this cock, baby. Literally.”
Bucky was too busy whining when her mouth wrapped around the crown of his cock to call her out on her bad joke.
His whole body was on fire with need for her. He needed her to do something, anything.
“Plum, please. Let me get you ready. I need you. I need to be inside you.”
Bucky didn’t want to cum in her mouth, not this time. He needed to be buried deep inside her and he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to last.
“I’m ready,” she said, situating herself on top of his cock, rubbing the tip on her wet folds, letting out filthy mewls at the feel of him against the lips of her pussy, “always ready for you, baby.”
Before Bucky could argue that he should at least make sure she was prepared to take him just in case, she was pushing the tip of him in, stretching herself out on his cock with her head thrown back and her mouth open in a silent scream.
“Fuck, baby, so tight,” Bucky groaned, feeling her pussy grip every inch as soon as it disappeared inside her.
When she has completely impaled herself on Bucky’s cock, she stilled, taking a minute to get used to the stretch.
No burn has ever felt as good as the burn she got when Bucky’s dick split her in half. Getting opened on this cock was her favorite thing in the world.
She dragged her lips along his stubbly jaw as she waited, kissing all over his face, savoring the moment as sweetly as possible as if the head of Bucky’s cock wasn’t almost touching up her cervix.
Her open palms glided from around Bucky’s neck to his shoulders and down his arms until she reached his palms.
“and those hands, I think you already know how much I love your hands.” She chuckled as she continued and Bucky nodded, squirming below her.
“I love when you hold my hand; makes me feel safe; chosen,” she rolled her hips, making Bucky groan wantonly.
“I love how fast you can make me cum on the fingers of your left hand.” She whined when Bucky’s hands dug in her sides as she moved on him, surely leaving bruises behind.
“Fuck, plum-” Bucky was so close so fast and he wished he could last longer but the movement of her body on top of his, the words leaving her mouth and her walls snug around his cock were too much.
“I love you. Every inch, every part. I love all of you, Bucky.”
Bucky groaned in reply, chest heaving as he watched her take him.
“I love every part of you. I crave your touch like my lungs crave air.”
Bucky involuntarily thrust up, making her eyes roll.
“Oh Buck!” she wailed, Bucky hitting her favorite spots so good.
He couldn’t stop his hips from meeting hers every time she came down to take his cock over and over again, eyes glued to where he was disappearing inside of her.
“Nothing could ever match the feeling of being filled up of you, Bucky.”
“I love you, plum ahhh fuck,” Bucky moaned, overwhelmed by emotions and ready to burst any second.
“I love you too, Bucky bear. You’re my everything; my one and only.” She kissed him hard, thighs shaking around his body as she came on his cock.
Bucky couldn’t help but let go himself, cumming harder than he has ever before, filling her up with so much cum until he felt it leak out of her despite having her plugged on his softening cock.
She moaned at the warmth of his cum, shuddering when it seeped out of her.
“Fuck, plum,” Bucky sighed on her shoulder, breath still shaky.
She giggled shyly, burying her face in Bucky’s neck.
“Where did that come from?” Bucky asked, cupping her cheek so he could look at her.
She was glowing, smiling at him so innocently as if his cock wasn’t still buried deep up her leaking, pulsing pussy.
“From here.” She pointed to the spot between her breasts.
“Right here?” Bucky leaned forward to press a kiss on her hot skin, making her laugh as she nodded.
“I love you,” he whispered on her lips.
“I love you, Bucky. I love every tiny detail about you inside out. Nothing will ever change that.” She promised, seeing his eyes soften once again, insecurity dissipating.
“Thank you, plum.” Bucky hugged her close, kissing her shoulder and the back of her neck.
“Thank you for letting me show you how much I love you.”
“So you love my cock huh?” Bucky teased.
“Buckyyyy,” she whined, trying to get away as her face heated up.
“No, say it.” Bucky bit his lip, looking at her with a smirk.
“You know I do. Stop.”
“No, plum. I don’t know anything.” Bucky shook his head trying to act serious, “say it again.”
“Iloveyourcock,” she mumbled, trying to take herself off his cock.
“What was that, plum?” Bucky thrust upward into her and even with a soft cock he could make her make the sweetest sound.
“Hngh, I love your cock, Bucky,” she moaned, throwing her head back.
“Hmm, how much?” Bucky swirled his hips, feeling himself get hard again.
“S-so much,” she admitted as his cock stretched her sensitive pussy.
Bucky held her close, turning them the other way around and gave a deep push when he was on top, his cum making the filthiest squelching sounds as she screamed an “oh god”.
“So much you’d let me take you again?”
“Yes, yes,” she nodded frantically, not wanting the man to stop his thrusts.
And he wasn’t going to.
Bucky’s tummy pinned her down as he pressed his lips to hers, eating up her squeals as he pounded her into the bed, showing her how much he loved her.
~
“So you really don’t care about my weight?” Bucky asked, supporting his body up on his elbows as he stared at her glossy eyes.
She could barely remember her name as she tried to come down from the other two orgasms Bucky has just given her, his body still on top of hers, but that wasn’t a question she needed to think about the answer to.
“I only want you okay and healthy, Bucky. If you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable. If you’re happy, I’m happy. Otherwise, you’re perfect to me,” she told him with a shrug, pushing his wet hair behind his ears, “every little thing about you is perfect.”
“I love you so much, plum.”
“I love you more.” She smiled, heart fluttering at the look he was giving her.
“Not possible.” Bucky kissed her lips, “not possible, plum.”
~
Tag list:
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Fighter part 9 SoftDark Alpha Tony Stark x SoftDark Alpha Steve Rogers x Soft Dark Alpha Bucky Barnes x Omega Reader
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Warning: Soft Dark Themes, Manipulation, controlling behavior, swearing, sexual nature, forced relationship. 
You are currently sat on the couch of your new home, You are in a large penthouse, In a building filled with Alpha’s and Beta’s Your Alpha’s explained that now that you are marked and pregnant they need to keep you safe and take you to your real home, The place smelled just of them, It made you anxious there was no trace of your smell at all which is why Tony and Bucky decided to bring some of your things back, 
It was just you and Steve at the moment you were huddled into him with a blanket over your folded legs as you sipped on some hot tea, You were freezing and couldn’t get warm, Bruce the Beta you met a few days ago informed you and your Alpha’s that since you were carrying twins, and this was your first pregnancy things were going to be heightened, you were going to be overemotional, nauseated vomiting, that is all normal, but depending on which Alpha the Twins are from things might be more difficult and if there is any signs of pain to see him immediately. 
You were shivering under the blanket. 
“Cold?” Steve asked as he had his arm around you rubbing up and down your arm, 
You nodded 
“I can’t seem to get warm.” You say 
He chuckled standing up, 
“I think Tony has a heated blanket around here somewhere.” He says 
You nodded still staying on the couch, when a sudden wave of nausea hit you, placing your mug on the end table peeling off the blanket you make a sprint for the bathroom, emptying your stomach contents in the toilet, you didn’t eat that much this morning due to being nauseous but now throwing up everything plus all the liquids was terrible, 
You groan having your arms folded on the toilet as you rested your forehead on your arms, you felt if you moved you would puke again, 
“Doll?” You hear Bucky’s voice they must’ve gotten back already 
You just groan, not fully answering due to the episode, You slightly wished you would’ve stayed hidden from Alpha humanity but your Omega brain tells you other wise as you lean into Bucky’s touch, 
“Lets get you out of here okay?” He says rubbing your back, 
You shake your head no, still feeling sick, 
“I still feel sick..” You mumble 
“Okay we can stay of a bit,” He says kneeling next to you still rubbing your back, trying to sooth you
You were finally feeling better, you slowly stood up Bucky helped you as he guided you to the bedroom, making you rest, You lay your head against his chest as you slowly fall asleep, 
Your three alphas were growing concerned at how much you were sleeping and not being able to keep anything down. 
“Maybe we should call Bruce?” Steve says 
“He did say she was gonna get hit double time because of having twins.” Tony says 
Bucky hums as he rubs your back as you are fast asleep,
Before you know it a month has gone by and you are already showing due to twins, And the three Alpha’s were over the moon because of the belly 
No one knew who’s the baby’s was. Due to having three Alpha’s and Mates but they didn’t care. 
You were currently in the kitchen while all your Alpha’s were in a meeting. They said they would be back before you knew it. But you were in kitchen making a Peanut butter frosted cake chocolate cake, 
Sure you were not one for sweets but now you were and you wanted to make something for your Alpha’s sure there was a small voice in the back of your mind telling you to run that you needed to fight, You had to fight back, But You knew the mating bonds and your Omega mind wouldn’t listen to the small voice 
You lick your fingers as you finish the icing on the cake washing all the dishes 
suddenly you have a flashback 
“You’re useless! Omega’s are nothing but tools for us Alpha’s!” Your father’s voice echoed in your mind
You grip the side of the counter feeling your anxiety build up, 
“Why did my last child have to be a Omega such a disappointment!” Your fathers voice echoed, 
You slow your breathing feeling your eyes glow, when the door slams open
You see all three Alpha’s rushing in the door way, 
“What’s wrong?” Steve asked walking towards you briskly 
“Nothing.” You say 
“I made a cake.” You smile at them hiding your anxiety forgetting they can feel your emotions, because of the mating bond. 
“Ooh cake.” Tony says 
“Tony.” Bucky growled 
They all look at you concerned 
“Sweetheart you eyes are glowing.” Bucky says 
You look away quickly trying to calm your nerves, and suddenly you were brought into a hug, 
“Deep breaths.” You hear Bucky, You do as he says, It’s been a long time that you had an anxiety attack thinking of the past, so you were having a hard time calming down. 
“Shhh.” You felt Bucky’s fingers run through your hair and you finally did calm down but you didn’t exactly know how to explain this 
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"Guess I'm Just Good With Them" - 2
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PAIRINGS: James "Bucky" Barnes x SingleMom!Reader
WARNINGS: Slight insecurities about being a single mom, extreme fluffiness
WORD COUNT: 915
*not proof-read*
ENJOY!
Sinking into the couch, you groan. It's been an hour trying to put Leila to sleep. And with consistency, you finally have achieved that goal. You run your hands over your face trying to get the drowsiness to evade your eyes, you need to do some more chores. And you know you won't be able to get to them in the morning, with work and the babysitter coming to sit Leila.
Your phone pings. That's weird, it never pings.
It only does when it's your co-worker asking to cover their shift, or it's when your boss is telling you the unfortunate news of you having to work overtime.
But it is neither of those situations. It's an unknown number.
UNKNOWN: Hey there, this is James from Walmart.
You stare at the electronic brick in your hands. You tap on the notification and see the actual message.
Your jaw drops. He actually texted you. James actually texted you.
Your heart races slightly as your thumbs do that little dance over your screen. Biting your lip, you think about what you should write about.
YOU: Hi James! How are you? :)
You groan and tip your head back, thinking your reply is similar to that of a fourth grader. But, that thought instantly vanishes as you see the texting bubble on his side jump in a pattern. While they do you save his name in your contacts.
JAMES: I'm doing alright. How are you, and Leila? 🙂
You let out a deep breath and type again.
YOU: Oh! We’re doing well, thank you. YOU: Happy to hear that you’re doing well too! :)
What’s with you and that smiley face, you whine in embarrassment and throw your phone to the side. “God, why am I like this?” You whine as you run your hands down your face. You never thought twice about texting.
But when it comes to James, you had to. You don’t know why, but you feel flutters in your belly when your brain strays to think about him. You don’t force your brain to do so, it’s just a second nature, an unconscious habit.
You can’t help but think about his charming smile that was on display the whole time Leila looked at him, the way he let your baby girl play with his metal arm, the way he would coo at her when she became fussy.
Your phone pings. Reaching for your phone, you inhale and open the text.
JAMES: That is great to hear. 🙂
You push out your lips, wondering what to reply with.
YOU: :)
You internally groan at your teenage-like response.
JAMES: I just wanted to know if you and Leila are busy this weekend.
You’re heart races again, is he going to ask you out?
YOU: We're not :). Why?
Ok, you were really bold with that response.
JAMES: There is this thing at the Zoo a friend told me about, thought it would be a good idea for Leila to see it?
You are in shock, he really thought about your daughter when his friend mentioned a Zoo.
YOU: That’s a great idea :)
There’s a smile on your face when you hit send on your reply. The bubbles pop up again on James’ side.
JAMES: What about her mother? 🙂
Your heart does a loop. You re-read the message at least 10 times, repeating the words out loud just to make sure if you read it right. And you did.
He, kind of, asked you out.
YOU: Her mother would be happy :)
-----
The shade really did nothing to cool you off from the summer sun. You adjusted the battery powered fan to face Leila completely on the arm rest of the stroller.
Getting up from your bent position you see James approaching you with a backpack on his shoulders. He gives you that sheepish smile he gave you the first time you met. You raise your hand and wave at him, and he returns a two fingered wave.
“Hey,” he smiles at you again, before squatting and caressing Leila’s cheek with his finger. “Heya, peanut,” he smiles, and Leila giggles and grabs onto James’ finger.
“Ah, Leila. We don’t grab fingers, bubba,” you say slowly at your little girl. Leila slowly lets go of James’ finger but still smiles at him.
“She’s learning to listen,” he chuckles, adjusting the baseball cap on his head. You laugh and respond, “only because you are here, James. Otherwise, it’s a cryfest.” James laughs at your statement, nodding his head.
“Please, call me Bucky. My fri-people who know me do,” he clears his throat, and you nod smiling. “Of course, Bucky,” she smiles, and it immediately is pulled into a frown when Leila starts to whine. You’re quick to pick her up and carry her at your waist.
“She was fussy during nap time this morning, I'm sorry,” you explain, your insecurities of being not a good enough mom started to kick in.
Bucky gives a sympathetic smile and he nods along. He puts his hand on the stroller, “I can push the stroller.”
"Really?" You ask in shock, bouncing Leila in your arms. Bucky chuckles and nods, "yeah, it's not a problem for me."
"Thank you," you give a downward smile, and he smiles back.
“Shall we?” He asks with a small grin, ready to push the stroller.
You smile and nod, this man really is the nicest thing that has happened to you in a while.
💌💌💌
TAGLIST <3: @toffeacademia
Here is the part two lovelies!!!
I will be transferring this to a series, so yay!
(if you wanna be tagged in the series, pls comment here 🤗🤗)
The next thing I'm most gonna be posting is the first chapter of "Infinite Solutions"
Till' then,
Stay Coquette-y,
Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀
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