#james barnes x reader

[dntaed]

The ‘list’ has been stuck on the cool refrigerator door for a few months now. It’s in pristine condition, and that makes it even worse, considering the current state of BUCKY’S apartment. The sight strikes a chord inside him. Not in a way he’d expected. He feels weirdly content at the sight of it.

He hears Raynor’s words echo in his ears again — ever so professional, and annoyingly skilled at pointing out his every misstep.

“One step at a time,” Raynor says, her voice steady. “List the things you like—even enjoy.”

“Another list? Are you serious?” Bucky remembers scoffing in her face.

Raynor raises a single brow. He knows what that means.

“Oh, come on. What wisdom do you have to share with me now?”

“I think this list will be easy for you to write. Even enjoyable.”

Bucky remembers that conversation as he stares down at the list. The title is scribbled in a dark-colored pen already losing its ink — I enjoy like. As he remembers it, he begrudgingly thinks Raynor was right. It was easy to make, considering the fact that the examples he wrote on the list included a recurring same name.

Yours.

It doesn’t matter. It’s not like you’ll ever see it. No, you wouldn’t see that he actually enjoys the way you keep plums for him on your person. Or in the fruit bowl whenever he’s around. Or in your pocket, not bothered with it staining your clothes. You learned he liked it, so you go the extra long way of feeding him.

So, he likes the plums you give to him. Only him.

Bucky has always accepted. Begrudgingly.

That brings him to the next thing.

The way your personality could be compared to something Sam likes to call ���sunshine’. Bucky hasn’t figured out the specifics. You’re just you in his eyes. Ever so bright, but steady and careful in your steps — so unlike him. He likes enjoys that.

Bucky is realizing the enjoyment actually feels like warmth. He’s starting to understand the ‘sunshine’ statement.

In short, he likes the way you have a certain warmth threaded into your being.

He likes the way you talk, too. A simple detail. Something he doesn’t think anyone else has noticed. Or maybe he’s reading into it. Or maybe you talk that way only when he’s around. He’d like that to be true, for some reason. You’re ever so careful not to slip in front of others. Not to ‘talk too much,’ as you put it.

Bucky enjoyed hearing you speak. To him, especially. You called it ‘rambling,’ but to him it’s the only sound that doesn’t grate on his ears. Every note of your words brings him a reverie he can’t get anymore from white noise or the television still on in the background as he tries to sleep.

Okay. He enjoys hearing you talk. To him, that is.

Bucky likes your face too. He struggled to write that one on the list, though. Struggled to explain why he’d want to even write it. How does he explain he likes the way your brows furrow every time you study a case? Or when you pick up a menu. Or when you’re reading a book you like. He likes your dopey grin. That stupid grin that dances on your face way too much. He notes the way your eyes smile alongside it too.

Sighing, he keeps the confusing fact that he likes your face on the list.

The last example on the page remains empty. He tries to think of something different to write.

Bucky likes his cat. Alpine likes you.

God damnit, he circled back.

Bucky is thankful for Sam. Sam always brings you around for everything.

He groans, realizing this may be a pattern. A pattern he’s starting to understand — one he isn't afraid of, surprisingly.

A single name is written at the end of the list.

You know it very well.

[em1i2a3]

Cradle

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Mom(Post-Partum)!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Starts off on a bit of a scary note, Fluff, lot’s of it, reader went through a C-Section, and there is a reference to that, there is accidental swearing, and once again Bucky is just a super soft sweet boi being his sweet boi self…But all in all, very fluffy, very cute, just pure vibes.

Authors Note: This is connected to ‘Forwards Beckon Rebound,’ it’s a little bit of a continuation of sorts but it’s more of a blurb, there’s not a lot connected, this could be read as a standalone too though, I think. Also, Adrianne Lenker has really been a mood for me lately, and thank god she has so many beautiful songs because this one was so frickin fitting.

Word Count: 3,443

Taglist: @sleepysongbirdsings (y’all I’m so mentally old I’m slowly getting used to what to do for these posts lol, so if anyone wants to be part of my Taglist I mean…Give me a shout :))

The last thing you remembered before going under was Bucky’s voice. His large hands framing your face, his thumbs running along the bags under your eyes.

”I promise I’ll be here when you wake up…” His voice was cracking, fear breaking through his words. He was terrified, you could see it in the way his dark blue irises scanned over your face, taking every detail in as if this could be the last time he saw you. Everything happened so quickly that neither of you had time to process anything. One moment you were in the hospital bed getting checked, the next they were preparing you for an emergency C-Section. You were panicking, scared for the baby, scared for yourself even.

You reached up and squeezed his fingers tight–a desperate goodbye you didn’t want to be saying–nodding through the tears that streamed down your face, then the cool oxygen mask slid over your mouth and nose, and you were taken under a sea of black.

————-

Coming back to consciousness felt like being dragged through wet cement. Your limbs were heavy and numb, as if they were being pinned down by invisible weights. Your throat was burning and your mouth was dry, you assumed it was probably from the tube they had put down your throat during the surgery to make sure your breathing was controlled, you heard them mention it in the chaos of them preparing you for the C-Section…At least you thought you did.

Thankfully there was no immediate pain, just a deep, tight ache that buzzed in your lower abdomen reminding you of what just occurred two and a half hours ago.

You felt like you were floating, half-aware, but half-asleep, until the sound of voices pulled you closer to the surface.

“You’re doing perfect hun,” A soft, coaxing voice said, you assumed it was a nurse. Her tone was patient, and warm, almost motherly even.

”I’m…I just haven’t done this before…I don’t think I’m doing this right.” Another voice cracked out, low and thick with nerves. It was Bucky. Your Bucky…Your rock...You could feel your chest twist at the sound of him so worried, but there was such relief when you heard that voice.

“You’ve been doing great. She’s calm, she’s breathing steady. Been asleep for the past hour after that big feed. You’re keeping her warm and giving her something steady to nap on, I’d say you’re a pro.” You could feel your body immediately tense at the word she. A baby girl. You had fought to keep the gender a secret from yourself, and now knowing gave you some sort of second wind in a way, a push to try and keep yourself over the edge so you could stay at least semi-conscious.

There was a soft rustle of fabric, a faint creak of a chair, and the sound of shifting. You forced your eyes open, just the tiniest bit, fighting against the weight that was trying to pull them closed again.

The first thing you saw was him.

Bucky was sitting stiffly in the reclining hospital chair, his broad shoulders hunched slightly forward, like he was attempting to curl himself around the tiny bundle in his arms, trying to make himself seem small in a way, which was nearly impossible given the sheer size of him. His hair was pulled back in a bun, and he was shirtless, with a soft pink blanket covering a portion of his chest and midsection, containing as much warmth as possible. His vibranium hand hovered awkwardly over the fabric, resting there for support, but not fully touching, letting his other arm do all the heavy lifting. You could see the way it was wrapped around her, his enormous hand cupping nearly her whole back with the most delicate kind of softness.

Your vision was still swimming, but you could make out the faint shape of a tiny hand–impossibly small–splayed out over the center of Bucky’s broad chest. Her little fingers twitched now and then, though there were no shifts or squeals, not yet at least.

The entire sight was almost too much to take in.

You could see how tense Bucky was even from across the room, his jaw tight, his brows drawn together. It was easy to tell he was nervous and worried that he might accidentally do something wrong, and every muscle in his body showed that through the way they locked and tensed into place so that he could hold himself perfectly still.

”I-I definitely don’t feel like a pro,” Bucky muttered, “I’m scared I’m gonna hold her too tight…She’s so small.” The nurse chuckled softly, adjusting the blanket a bit higher over the baby’s back with a practiced hand, moving carefully, and reading the tension that was running all over his face. She was treating him with the same tenderness she might offer a brand-new parent, even though she knew the situation.

“She’s not little. Nine pounds, two ounces is a chunky little peanut.” The nurse teased gently, patting Bucky’s vibranium arm reassuringly, “You’re just a big ol’ mountain of a man, and you make everything look tiny.” Bucky gave a small, uncertain laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes, even though it did ease him a bit. He continued to cradle the bundle against him, dragging his thumb along her warm skin, a small smile coming up on his lips as he looked down at a carbon copy of you, just in tinier form.

His head dipped slightly, his nose brushing against the crown of the baby’s fuzzy head, breathing in without even realizing he was doing it. His eyes fluttered closed, and for a second he looked younger and softer than you’d ever seen him before.

“Is it weird if I say she smells like spun sugar…Like Coney Island cotton candy…That real sweet, sticky kind of smell.” Bucky asked quietly, his voice rough with nerves and awe as he cradled the bundle tighter to him. The nurse let out a soft, affectionate laugh.

”Not weird at all,” She soothed, “Every baby’s got their own smell, it’s kind of like a new car smell…But for tiny humans, and you’re certainly not the first tough guy to melt over it, either.” You could see Bucky’s cheeks turn a faint red through the blurriness in your vision. You swallowed against the dry scrape in your throat, heart aching as you opened your mouth to form a word.

”Bucky…” It was barely a sound, just a breath in the air, but he had heard it. His head immediately snapped up, his wide blue eyes locking onto you from across the room, a wave of relief washing over him. His mouth parted, but no sound came out, and he looked wrecked. It was like he had heard the most important voice of his life. The nurse nudged him slightly.

“C’mon, big guy, let’s bring her to mama hm?” Bucky blinked up at her like he’d forgotten he could move, like the only thing that was keeping him focused was you and the tiny heartbeat that was pressed against his chest. Slowly, he shifted to his feet, the nurse helping guide him as he adjusted his hold on the baby with exaggerated care. You could see the way he kept his vibranium arm hovering uselessly by his side as he stepped towards you, and you could feel tears filling your eyes at the gentleness of it all.

You tried to lift your arms, desperate to reach for the both of them, but they barely twitched against the sheets. A helpless whimper tore itself from your throat.

”My arms are still numb.” You croaked, feeling the tingling heaviness that plagued your nerves. Immediately the nurse was beside you, smoothing a hand over your shoulder.

”That’s alright sweetheart, we can still get her tucked up against you, Bucky over here can climb in beside you and secure her on your chest for extra safety.” Bucky stood frozen for a second, looking down at the tiny bundle, then at you.

“I would like that.” You replied quickly. The nurse smiled at your response and held her hands out to Bucky motioning for him to hand over the bundle so he could slip onto the mattress, and fill the space beside you. The hand off was gentle, and you could see the look on his face when the soft warmth of the baby’s skin left him, like he was holding onto the fleeting moment. He kicked his shoes off and brought down the railing beside you, carefully sliding underneath the covers, the mattress shifting beneath the new weight he introduced to it. You knew it would be a tight fit, but you wanted him there with you, and no matter the close proximity, you just craved his steady presence, and he gave you that with no questions.

He slid his vibranium arm around your shoulders, curling it carefully around you, bringing you closer to him with such a protective instinct that you could feel your heart beating out of your chest, leaning into him, absorbing the warmth that radiated off his skin.

”Alright, now you’re gonna help me a little bit and just untie the top of her gown so we can get the little one tucked in.” Bucky nodded once, like he was taking orders on a mission. He reached up to the shoulders of your gown, and you could see the hesitation in his eyes, before gently pulling on the ties, loosening them slowly just enough to reveal the top of your chest. The cool air ghosted across your skin for just a fraction of a second, then the nurse carefully placed the tiny, perfect weight of your daughter onto your body.

The moment her skin touched yours, it was as if the whole world cracked open. The heat of her, the fragile rise and fall of her chest against yours, the indescribable softness of her cheek pressing into the curve of your breastbone, the way she nuzzled her little nose into you with her fists curling up tight against your body–it was overwhelming, but worth every second. You could feel the coolness of Bucky’s vibranium hand run over your bicep, soothing you the only way he could in those moments as he looked down at you, watching tears flowing down your cheeks. You were so relieved everything was okay, and now that your eyes were on her, the instinct of wanting to be closer pulled at every fiber of your being. Bucky brought his arm over her back so he could hold her closer against your chest, keeping her nuzzled on your skin so you could take in every moment, even though you couldn’t cradle her on your own yet.

“That’s perfect sweetheart,” The nurse said quietly, tucking the soft pink blanket loosely around all three of you, securing the warmth once more without actively separating everyone, “I’m going to step out and give you all some privacy, if you need anything the call button’s right on the bed rail.” The both of you nodded, but you weren’t even sure you heard her properly because you were so enamoured by the little bundle that was frowning against you.

The door clicked softly behind the nurse as she stepped out of the room, leaving the three of you wrapped in a bubble of silence. Neither of you moved at first. There was too much floating in the air around you–gratitude, wonder, a love so thick it was hard to breathe through. The only sound that could truly be heard was the tiny, steady coos of the newborn sleeping against your chest.

Slowly, Bucky shifted closer to you, and without a word he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. It was feather-light, the kind of kiss that would’ve broken you in any other situation apart from this. When he pulled back, his lips ghosted another peck against your hairline.

”You are…Incredible.” He whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of everything he was holding in, “The strongest person I’ve ever met.” He added, another kiss landing right on your temple.

“I’m so proud of you Y/N…” You closed your eyes at his words, a fresh wave of tears burning behind the lids, as you leaned down to press your cheek against the tiny crown of soft fuzz that was your daughter’s head, breathing in to calm your heart from seizing up from the overwhelming sensation of love that coated it. You let the scent of her settle in your lungs, and it hit you that it was exactly how Bucky described it. Sweet and warm, soft and sticky like spun sugar on a summer day. You let out a little, tearful laugh against her head.

”You really are right…She does smell like cotton candy,” Bucky let out a low, broken chuckle, tightening his arm around you, his hand stilling against your bicep, shifting so he could get even closer to you.

“I thought I was hallucinating, so I’m glad you confirmed that. I assumed the nurse was just trying to ease my worries when she said it was normal.” You let out a quiet giggle, looking up at him.

”I think it was for the best. You looked so nervous…Like a gentle giant.” He blushed at the way you said it, realizing that you had been watching and listening to his interaction with the nurse for longer than he thought.

“Yeah well…I was scared,” Bucky replied sheepishly, his eyes flickering from you, down to the tiny sleeping bundle against your chest, “She’s a carbon copy of you…I didn’t want to accidentally do something wrong.” You smiled through the burning in your throat, bringing yourself even closer to him, nuzzling into the steady shelter of his body.

”You did amazing, Bucky…” You whispered. He let out a shaky exhale, as if he’d been holding his breath for hours, his forehead tipping down to bump yours. You know how much he needed to hear that, and how much it soothed the nerves that were ripping him apart from the inside. The baby cooed gently, shifting a bit against you, her tiny fist moving along your chest, like she was trying to get closer.

The both of you watched her, your chests moving in sync, taking in deep breaths, and after a while, he broke the silence.

”So…” He said softly, his thumb stroking absently along your forearm, “Have you thought about what you’re going to name her?” You could feel a smile tugging up on your lips at the question.

”I have,” You responded gently, shifting slightly so you could see his face better. He pulled back a little as well, giving you his full, undivided attention, his eyes focused on yours, scanning over your face in anticipation.

”I’ve actually known for months,” You admitted, watching as Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed. You usually told him everything, but this was a secret you kept safe until today, not wanting to be too reliant on getting a specific gender, because truly it didn’t matter, all you wanted was a healthy baby. He tried to hold himself back from looking too desperate for your answer, but you saw through it.

“I want her to have the name of the person who raised my second favourite human being in the world,” You said quietly, your voice trembling with such tenderness it almost felt like you were shaking against him. You could see the cogs turning in his head, his brows pulling together even tighter like he was trying to figure out what you meant by that. You loved seeing the confusion in his eyes in that moment, and it made you smile through the tears that began to build up in your eyes.

”Winnifred,” You whispered, “I’m naming her Winnifred.” You could feel the air get sucked out of the room, watching Bucky’s jaw go slack, blinking hard, once, then twice, like he didn’t trust himself to believe what he just heard. His throat bobbed in a rough swallow, as he took in a small breath.

”My ma…” He rasped, his voice breaking into pieces, his eyes glistening over with unshed tears as he stared at you like he was witnessing a miracle “You…You’re naming her after my ma?” You nodded, smiling through your own tears. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, like he was trying to ground himself, his forehead lowering until it rested lightly against yours, his breath shuddering out over your cheeks.

“You deserve everything good in this world, Bucky…And she would be so proud of you…I want to honour that.” You could feel him shake slightly, as he sniffled, pulling back to look at you again. The sheer sight of him wrecked you, his blue eyes swimming with tears that clung thickly to his lashes. You wished in those moments you could reach up to hold his face between your hands, but they were still tingling.

”You’re…You’re my sun, Y/N…” He whispered, his vibranium hand slipping from your bicep to cradle the side of your face with aching tenderness, “You’re the center of everything for me…I choose to be in your orbit every second of every day…And I don’t want to do anything else.” You could feel yourself choke up a little bit, as Bucky carefully leaned forward, kissing your cheeks gently, soft and slow, like he was memorizing you.

“Because I love you…So fucking much.” His breath ran over your skin as he said the words so lightly you could barely hear them over your pulse pounding in your ears. His confession hung between the both of you, filling the space and sinking into your body like sunlight after a long, brutal winter. You closed your eyes at his thumb dragging along your cheek, your breath trembling as you pushed yourself to speak.

”I love you too, Bucky…I always have.” There was a moment of silence, and you opened your eyes to look at him, seeing a small smile on his lips. It was such a relief to finally say it aloud, and it was the perfect moment to do it. He breathed you in for a fraction of a second, then without words he shifted. His hand slid from your cheek to the side of your neck, his fingers splaying out to anchor himself there. You tilted your chin, nudging your nose against his, then finally…His lips touched yours.

It was barely a kiss at first, it actually mirrored the way you had brushed the corner of his mouth with yours the night he had felt the baby kick for the first time, but only this was more like he was offering himself to you. Surrendering.

You let out a small exhale through your nose, and Bucky answered with a breath of his own, pressing a little closer, kissing you now with just the slightest bit of pressure. The softness of his lips captured yours in such an aching, and burning way…Because it was him kissing you with a kind of worship so raw and stripped down that it made your chest swell.

You kissed him back with everything you had, and with as much care as he gave you, trembling against each other with the weight of it all–the baby sleeping on your skin, the love that tied you together, the history, the hope, and the future.

When you finally broke apart, it was by small fractions, neither of you really willing to let go–your noses brushing, your breath still tangling together in the space between you.

“I’m all yours…” He whispered, letting the words fold into the fragile air, like a promise. Like a prayer. You closed your eyes for a second, breathing every inch of him in–his warmth, his steadiness, and his devotion.

“Forever and always, Bucky…Till the end of time.”

[magical-reid]

The Soldier and His Mission

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1K

Summary: When a trigger sends Bucky back into the grip of the Winter Soldier, he shadows you with an unyielding protectiveness that leaves the team on edge, though he doesn't harm anyone. After days of tension and careful steps, Bucky finally breaks through the icy barrier, returning to himself in a quiet, tender moment, finding solace in your presence.

You should’ve known something was wrong the moment Bucky went still.

One second, the mission was wrapping up—just another Hydra facility wiped off the map, just another set of goons taken down. The next, something triggered him. A phrase muttered in Russian over a radio, the faintest crackle of a long-dead handler’s voice. You saw the shift in his posture before he even turned around, the telltale tightening of his jaw, the blankness overtaking those usually warm blue eyes.

Bucky Barnes was gone.

The Winter Soldier stood in his place.

And yet—he didn’t hurt you.

Not when he turned to face the team, his body language bristling with danger. Not when Steve hesitated before stepping forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. And certainly not when you cautiously called his name, your voice softer than the others.

Instead, the Soldier moved between you and everyone else.

A shield.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Back at the Tower, you thought the episode would pass. That maybe, after a few hours, after enough familiar sights and sounds, Bucky would shake it off like he always did.

But the Soldier wasn’t leaving. And he had decided you were his mission.

Not to eliminate.

To protect.

At first, it was just hovering. You moved—he followed. You sat—he stood at your back, ever watchful. The others gave him space, exchanging worried glances when they thought you weren’t looking. Steve was tense, obviously trying to figure out how to break through, while Tony was less patient about it.

“This is a problem,” Stark declared after the first few hours, arms crossed as he leaned against the counter. “I mean, I hate to be the one to say it, but we have a fully armed, brainwashed assassin in the Tower again, and we all know how that went last time.”

“He’s not attacking anyone,” Natasha pointed out.

“Yet,” Tony shot back.

You ignored the argument as best you could, focusing instead on cooking something for Bucky—something normal, something familiar, something that might ground him. His eyes tracked you the entire time.

Then you miscalculated the heat on the stove.

The oil in the pan hissed and spat, and a second later, you hissed too as a sharp sting bloomed across your palm. You barely had time to react before there was a sudden blur of motion.

Bucky was on you instantly.

His flesh hand gripped your wrist, his metal one hovering protectively over the stove, as if it had personally attacked you. His face was unreadable, but his grip was firm, his hold gentle as he examined the burn.

“I’m okay,” you assured him, but he wasn’t listening.

Instead, he took the cold pack you hadn’t even reached for yet and pressed it carefully to your palm, his jaw tight, his brows furrowed in focus. You exchanged a look with Steve over Bucky’s shoulder, and the Captain exhaled, something like relief flashing in his eyes.

He was still in there.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The Soldier continued shadowing you for the next two days, much to Tony’s frustration. But as Natasha had pointed out—he wasn’t hurting anyone.

Unless they posed a threat to you.

That was something Steve learned firsthand during a sparring session. You had barely landed a hit before Bucky, watching from the sidelines, had moved. The next thing you knew, Steve was on his ass, blinking up at the ceiling, while Bucky stood between you like a human wall, eyes cold and calculating.

“For the record,” Steve grunted as he sat up, rubbing his ribs, “I was letting her win.”

Bucky wasn’t convinced.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It wasn’t until you needed a medical checkup that things really came to a head.

“Barnes, I have to actually examine her,” Dr. Cho said patiently, eyeing where Bucky stood between you and the med bay’s equipment.

“No,” he replied flatly.

“Bucky—” you tried.

“The room is secure.”

“That’s not the—”

“She does not require assistance.”

“I do require assistance,” you corrected. “Because I burned my hand and twisted my shoulder thanks to a certain super soldier overreacting in the gym.”

Bucky didn’t move.

You exhaled slowly.

“Okay,” you said, shifting tactics. “Then stay.”

That got his attention.

“If you want to make sure nothing happens to me,” you reasoned, “then you can stay here. But you have to let the doctor check me out.”

His expression was unreadable for a long moment. Then, after what felt like an eternity—

“…Understood.”

Progress.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

When it finally broke, it wasn’t dramatic.

There was no grand trigger, no huge revelation.

Just a moment of quiet.

You had fallen asleep on the couch, exhaustion finally winning after two days of Bucky’s overprotective hovering. When you woke up, it was to warm hands gently brushing over your wrist—both flesh and metal, but softer this time, as if relearning the feeling of touching you.

And then you heard it—his breath hitching.

A tiny, barely-there sound, but one filled with something raw.

You blinked sleepily, looking up.

Bucky was staring at you. Not the Soldier. Bucky.

His face was pale, his jaw tight, his eyes wide—his real eyes.

“…Doll?” His voice cracked over the word, like it had been caught in his throat.

You smiled sleepily, shifting so your fingers curled around his. “Hey, Buck.”

His exhale was shaky. His shoulders sagged. And when you tugged him down to you, he didn’t resist.

He just buried his face in your neck and held on.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“You scared the hell out of me, you know,” you murmured later, your fingers absentmindedly running through his hair as he rested against you.

“I know,” he admitted, voice rough.

“You threw Steve like a ragdoll.”

“…Yeah.”

“…Kind of hot, not gonna lie.”

A laugh. Quiet, but real.

And just like that, Bucky Barnes was back.

[brunchable]

𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 [ 2 ]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Friends to Lovers. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky just not getting enough of you, fingering, cunnilingus, Oral [M&F], unprotected piv, creampie. Just PURE making love, no kinks. Summary: It's only been a few hours since you've become official and Bucky want to show you just how much you mean to him. A/N: 2 of 2. And I must say. . . JAYSUS. BON APETITIDDIES.

Part One

You were stiff. You were sore. Your arm was asleep. And you felt fucking fantastic.

Maybe in the movies people woke up entwined in each other's arms after a night of spirited lovemaking, but for you, reality was much more awkward. Your head had somehow become wedged behind Bucky’s shoulder, and both his legs were about to slide off the couch altogether. You untangled yourself as best you could, looking down at him as you moved his limbs out of the way.

Bucky was sleeping peacefully, his dark lashes lying flat against the skin beneath his eyes. They fluttered slightly as you pulled free of him, and he stirred.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled, and turned over so he was facing the back of the couch, still caught in mid-slide towards the floor.

You tried not to laugh. God, he was adorable.

You sat up, arching your back to stretch out the sore muscles. Then your breath caught. What time was it? Holy hell, I’m going to be late.

You stood up quickly, and was seized by an ache between your legs so unfamiliar that you nearly sat back down again. Holy crap. It had been way too long. You almost felt like a virgin again. You rose again shakily, noticing that your whole groin felt sore, and so did your hips—probably from throwing your legs up around his waist. God, what a wanton hussy you were, you thought happily.

You went quietly towards the bathroom, checking the clock on the stove as you walked by. It was nearly eight-thirty. Crap. You were supposed to be at work by nine, or nine-thirty at the latest. you'd  have to make the shower a quick one.

You stood under the hot water, letting it pour over your sore muscles. You washed out your hair, lathered up your body and massaged your sore hips as random images from last night invaded your thoughts. Even now you weren't entirely convinced it hadn't all been a dream. Has it really happened? The soreness was real enough. And so were the images flashing through your mind.

Bucky’s body on yours, looming over you, holding your wrists, kissing you with abandon. Taking each breast in his mouth, teasing you with his fingers. Sliding into you, tilting your back and thrusting deeper, faster, harder.

Suddenly a blurry figure appeared on the other side of the glass door. The door slid open and he stood there, looking disheveled from sleep but adorably sexy. And naked, too.

"Hi," he said, a seductive smile curving his lips. His eyes traveled down your naked body, pausing at your breasts and then sliding down to the between your legs where rivulets of water coursed and ran together.

You flushed at the frank inspection but willed yourself not to try to hide from him. You shifted your weight, jutting your hip out provocatively and smiled.

His eyes returned to yours, desire glinting in them. "May I join you?"

You pushed the door back and invited him in. Bucky stepped in and crowded you, not unpleasantly, until your back was up against the tiles. He braced his hands on the wall behind you, and let the water flow over him as he leaned down and kissed you.

You opened to him and kissed him back, winding your hands around his waist and sliding them down his ass, squeezing appreciatively. He smiled into the kiss, enjoying your wandering hands, then pushed forward so your bodies were pressed together, the water slick and warm between you.

"So," he murmured in your ear, his voice barely a whisper above the sound of the water. "So much for that idea."

"What idea was that?" you whispered back, kissing his ear.

"The idea that we could ever be just friends," he said, catching your jaw with his lips as you turned your head. He covered your neck with slow, lingering kisses, trailing his mouth down your and cupping your breast with his hand.

"Oh, I don't know, I think it's a great idea so far," you said coquettishly. "Besides," you joked. "I do this with all my male friends."

He mocked a scowl at you, and gave you  that smile that had always melted you. "Well, that's going to have to stop. You're mine now."

He kissed you slowly, his tongue tangling with yours as he teased and tasted, enjoying your mouth.

You kissed him back, licking and tasting and enjoying him until you felt rather than heard a hum of desire, of pure carnal lust, vibrating through him. He was growing hard against your belly, his cock pressing against you urgently.

He lowered his head further and took your  nipple into his mouth, licking the soft nub until it grew hard beneath his tongue. Pleasure shot through you, and he turned to lavish the same attention on your other breast. You writhed against the cold tiles at your back, arching into him and sinking your fingers into his hair to hold him to you. He smiled as you moaned with pleasure, and laughed softly when he took your nipple between his teeth and made you suck in a sharp breath.

His cock was as hard as it had been a few hours ago, and it surged in your hand as he took your breasts. You gathered some suds into your palm and grasped him again, feeling the iron-hardness of him beneath the silky skin. You began to stroke, gliding fast and smooth, and he groaned from the pleasure of it, collapsing against you and kissing you between his soft, low sounds of pleasure and need.

You kept stroking and teasing, gliding over him in a steady rhythm, and felt yourself growing warm and slick at how hard he was beneath your fingers. You loved that you were doing that to him, making him want you so much. He groaned, his breath jagged and shallow. He tried to kiss you through his mounting pleasure but he had to break off to breathe, to lose himself in the sensation.

"God, baby," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "So good."

You tried not to focus on him calling you baby, knowing it was only his arousal talking. You focused instead on the intense pleasure that was making him say it. You continued stroking him, changing your hand position so that you pulled up with each stroke, teasingly pulling his skin up over the head each time and sinking down to the base, pleasuring every inch of him. Your other hand cupped his balls and caressed him, gently rolling him around in your fingers as he tensed and surged and seemed to fight against you, against the unbearable pleasure you were causing him.

After a few torturous moments he stopped your hand, his breathing so fast and ragged that he could hardly speak. 

“You—don't want—this to end too soon, do you?” he warned, kissing you in between breaths. “Because, my God, you could make me come in seconds if you wanted to.”

“That might be fun,” you said, kissing the edges of his mouth, licking at his lips and his tongue when he opened his mouth to you again.

“For me, yes,” he breathed, breaking away from you. “But I'm not nearly finished with you yet.”

He slipped his hand into your hair and held your head, kissing you with such raw passion, such naked need that you felt a surge of warmth flood between your legs in spite of the cooling effects of the water. He had wrung a soul-shattering orgasm out of you just a few hours ago and yet here you were again, eager for him again. Wanton hussy indeed.

"Do you remember that night, two years ago?" he asked, his voice low and deep. "At the party, when I played that song on the guitar for you, and you asked whether it hurt my fingers to play the steel strings?"

He was watching his own fingers trail over your breasts, over your tightened nipple, down past your navel, as the water trickled over you both.

"Mmm hmmm," you murmured, your eyes closed, lost in the sensation of the water coursing down your body and his hand moving over you.

“And you touched my fingertips…”

Of course you remembered; you'd run your  fingers over the roughened pads of his fingertips, and had watched in delight as he'd twitched a little, and then trembled, just a little, at your touch. You'd kept your touch feather-light and soft, drifting over his fingertips and down his fingers a little, feeling the shiver of heightened awareness in your  own hands.

Maybe you'd been a little too suggestive, a little too lingering, whispering-touching those parts of him that were supposedly hardened against such sensations—but you'd been unable to stop yourself. His hands had been warm and strong and eminently male, and when he'd stiffened and held his breath, as if willing himself not to react to your seductive touch, you'd felt that shiver of awareness deepen into an intense desire.

Such a seemingly innocent touch, just a friend examining the time-worn calluses of a guitar player's fingertips. . .and yet in that moment, even amongst their friends, even with the music playing loud and the laughter soaring above it, you'd felt like it had been just the two of you in that room, touching each other intentionally for the very first time, your hand tentatively reaching out for his, and his reaching to meet your half way.

“You drove me wild.” he said, leaning to kiss your neck. “I got so hard, I was afraid to move. And after that, I kept thinking of all the things I wanted to do to you with these fingers.” He slipped his hand between your  legs and caressed your folds, parting them gently and sliding inside you. “Like this, for instance.”

You moaned and leaned your head against his shoulder, letting him touch you wherever he wanted. His fingers explored you, caressed you, possessed you, expertly as though they, too, knew you were his.

“I just had to touch you,” you breathed against him. “And believe me, this is what I was thinking about too.”

“You stopped me last night,” he murmured, dragging his mouth along your neck. “I wanted to feel you come for me. To finish what you started that night.”

You groaned at the sound of his voice, so low and sexual, so heated with his own desire.

“Let me feel you come for me, baby,” he whispered into your ear, licking your  earlobe. “Please.”

He gripped your hip and lifted you up against the wall slightly, positioning you so he could slide his fingers deep inside you. He held you firmly around the waist, bracing you against the wall, and thrust into you gently, with first one finger, then two, sliding deeper and deeper each time, stretching you, mimicking the size and power of his cock. His thumb played over your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you as he pressed his forehead to yours and gazed down into your  eyes. You gasped and cried out from the overwhelming pleasure of it even as you squirmed beneath his fingers and ached for more.

He braced you against his thigh and pressed against you while his arm steadied you from behind, holding you completely in his grasp. Bucky had such a way of holding you, letting you know that you were going nowhere, making sure you had no desire to be anywhere but in his arms. You felt safe, and secure, and above all, worshiped.

Bucky bent down and kissed you, sliding his fingers into your with a wild, sensuous rhythm that matched the increasing speed of his thumb as it stroked and rubbed and swirled around your aching clit. His hand was so strong, his fingers curving inside you to caress you, to find that super-sensitive inner spot even as he plunged and drove and took. With his thumb circling your clit in a relentless rhythm and his fingers deep inside you, stretching you, claiming you, you felt completely owned by him, by the hand that possessed every inch of you.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, matching the rhythm of his fingers, swirling, tasting, mutely revealing that he had had another  fantasy, too. The thought of his mouth on you, his tongue tasting you, torturing you, swirling over your clit as you writhed beneath it made you go weak in the knees.

Bucky broke away from the kiss and began trailing kisses down your neck, your breasts, lowering himself to his knees in front of you  while bracing your hips against the tiles with his strong hands.

"Did I mention what it did to me the first time your tongue touched mine?" he whispered devilishly.

He looked up at you so intently, his beautiful blue eyes blazing as the water streamed over his shoulder and down the contours of his chest. You gazed down at him, and for the second time this morning questioned whether  all this could actually be happening. This gorgeous, virile man gripping you, kneeling before you, gazing at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It couldn't be real, could it?

Then he lowered his lips to your and you knew it was.

Sensation tore through your touch, so delicately gentle at first, and you arched against the wall with a startled cry. You reached down and gripped his shoulder, steadying yourself on one foot as he brought you to your leg up slowly, gently and eased it over his shoulder. The sight of it alone nearly made you come. He moved so languidly, so sensuously, positioning you better so he could enjoy your all the more.

He closed his mouth over your clit and kissed it luxuriously, his lips moving as though he were kissing your mouth. His tongue swirled over you in large, sensuous circles and he groaned against you, tightening his grip on your hip as you moaned against the sudden overwhelming pleasure of it. The tip of his tongue darted out to flick against your  rapidly as he looked up at you again, watching your pleasure, his eyes smiling at you as if he knew precisely how good he was making you feel. Then he fell on you again, his tongue roaming over you, tasting you, luxuriating in your folds and dipping to lap at your entrance.

“Oh my, g-god. Bucky—”

You bucked against him and cried out as his tongue slipped into your and pulsed there, gently, savouring you. Your hand sank into his wet hair and as you gripped his head, you were rewarded with a muted chuckle and a more intense forward surge of his tongue inside you. He liked the moans he wrought from you. He liked being able to make your  cry out and seize him, your head thrown back in agonizing pleasure.

And fuck did you like it, too.

"Oh God," you breathed, your heart thundering in your chest. "My God, that feels so good..."

He withdrew from your and slid his tongue up to torture your aching clit, and just when you began to miss the feel of him inside your he gently pushed his fingers into your again and began to thrust.

Pleasure soared through you and you cried out even louder, and the leg draped over his shoulder began to tremble. His tongue circled your clit again, deliciously slowly, as his fingers slid into you over and over again, a sensual, primitive rhythm that made you  want to grind your hips against the pleasure.

“I'm coming,” you whispered urgently. “You're going to make me come…”

His fingers thrust deeper and faster and he began to lick you so quickly, with such a throaty groan of pleasure that you felt your  orgasm rise, terrifyingly fast and sharp, making you cry out in increasing, panting breaths until you shattered, coming violently around his fingers and that sensuous, irresistible tongue. You shuddered with an aching cry and trembled from the spasms he sent rippling through you. Your body curled forward as you gripped him tighter, your  fingers pulling on his hair from the pressure.

He removed your leg from his shoulder gently as you continued to shudder, feeling aftershocks of pleasure shiver through you. He got to his feet and helped you stand, pressing himself against your  and nuzzling your neck.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, your voice shaking. your  whole body shaking. “That was incredible.”

“That...was just the prelude,” he whispered, kissing you. “I haven't even started pleasuring you yet.”

God, he was going to kill you. Death by orgasm, you thought happily. What a way to go.

He leaned to turn off the water, but he stilled his hand. He looked back at you with a questioning expression, and then understood. You pulled him back towards yourself and he went willingly, stepping back under the stream of water, kissing you deeply, his hands roaming greedily over your  body.

You weren't done with him. He had made you feel like a goddess, worshiped, cherished, adored.

You broke off the kiss and began trailing your  lips down his neck, his collarbone and chest, enjoying the warmth of the water trickling past your mouth. His chest muscles tensed as you kissed them, and as you moved your  lips slowly down his abdomen you felt his whole body go rigid with anticipation. You sank to your knees in the tub and brushed kisses along his navel, his hip bones, and he put his hands on your shoulders to steady himself. Water coursed over both of you, and you delighted in it, closing your eyes against the spray.

“Baby,” Bucky said softly, barely audible above the water.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. He was about to say something but you smiled and glanced away, focusing instead on the head of his cock, hard and urgent in front of you. He was thick and beautiful, and still as hard, maybe even harder, than he had been when you'd teased him with your  hands.

“I want to taste you,” you said playfully. “All of you.”

You leaned forward and gently licked the swollen tip of his cock. He inhaled sharply, his whole body tensing, and you smiled up at him, letting him know this was for your  pleasure as much as for his. You swirl your  tongue around the head, taking it into your  mouth and suckling gently, teasing it. The skin was soft and smooth, stretched deliciously tight from the hardness of his erection.

You let your tongue play over it, dipping into the opening, making him moan. You drifted your tongue along the ridge, and down to the sensitive skin just beneath the head, licking and tasting, nipping and kissing.

You looked up at him, and his dark eyes were wild with desire. You smiled, and ran your  tongue up and down the length of him, ending at the head and flicking at it delicately, teasingly. He moaned softly, his breathing starting to grow rapid. You rose up slightly to take the whole length of him into your mouth and sucked him, long and hard.

He let out a gasp and braced himself against the wall with one hand, his other  hand gripping your  shoulder.

“Oh fuck—Baby...”

You slid your mouth over his shaft, deeper, deeper, and slid back up the length of him. Your hands came around and gripped his ass, pulling him towards you. He staggered forward slightly as you took him into your  mouth again, luxuriously taking in his entire length, sucking, licking, tasting as you went. The sensation of him in your mouth was almost as overwhelming as his first entrance into your body had been, so unfamiliar but so right at the same time.

You caressed his balls with one hand as you played your tongue over his cock. He groaned, his breathing jagged now, his cock harder than ever. His hand moved from your  shoulder to sink into your wet hair, and he gripped your head with barely restrained urgency. Gently he guided your head closer to him as you sucked. You lowered yourself onto him and slowly sucked your way back up, your mouth gripping him, your cheeks hollowing, as your tongue slid over him with each pass.

His hips began to move as he started to match your rhythm, thrusting into you, meeting your mouth. Bucky gripped your head more firmly and held your head still, driving into you gently.

You let your hand fall and you sat back on your haunches, enjoying the feeling of him sliding in and out of your mouth, controlling his own pleasure, taking what he wanted, and what you were so willing to give. Yet you could tell he was holding back, wanting to thrust harder and faster but restraining himself and settling for a smoother, slower pace.

For you. Bucky was holding back for your sake. This passionate, soulful, virile man was holding back his own pleasure because he wanted to be gentle with you.

The very thought of it excited you, and you increased your own rhythm, encouraging him, moaning with pleasure as he drove into you. You sucked harder, faster, turning your  gaze up to him with an urgent plea in your  eyes. Faster. Deeper. Now, my love.

And he understood.

Bucky groaned, and stepped forward. His hand clenched in your hair and he began to move, faster and harder, plunging deeper, holding your head as he thrust into your  mouth with urgent, rhythmic strokes. He slid in and out of your mouth as if through warm honey, and you felt and heard his pleasure mounting with every ratcheted breath and every desperate moan that escaped his lips.

His eyes watched your with rapt adoration and abject lust, and you could tell that the sight of your taking him fully into your mouth, of your sucking him with pure, greedy abandon and complete acceptance, was pushing him closer to the edge as much as the intense pleasure of your tongue on his cock was. Or more.

He tensed as his rhythm grew faster, his breathing harder, until you felt him tighten and strain so much that you felt certain he was going to spill himself into your mouth. But at the last moment he cried out and pulled back, his cock slipping out of your  mouth quickly. He stood still, breathless, his eyes closed as if willing his orgasm to retreat. Water sliced down his neck and chest, and finally he let out a slow, jagged moan of a breath and opened his eyes. He looked down at you wildly, and reached for you,helping you to your feet.

“Jesus,” he said breathlessly, staring at you as he tried to catch his breath. “I can't...I can't believe how goddamn good that felt. You brought me so close, so fast, I almost couldn't stop it.”

“Why did you?” you asked, running your  finger along his jaw. “I wanted to feel you come for me.”

He groaned against you, his hands roaming over your  body. “I told you, I'm not nearly done with you yet.”

He kissed you hungrily, his cock surging against your violently as your bodies met. you could feel him moving against you, his cock rubbing against you,and you knew how badly he wanted to be inside you again.

As badly as you wanted him inside you again.

He stepped back, his breath still ragged, and pressed his forehead to yours as he closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

“You're not done yet, huh?” you teased gently, letting your fingers sink into his wet hair as you kissed his neck.

“Not nearly.”

“But I have to go to work. Maybe if I'm lucky you'll be here when I get home?”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

He reached to turn off the water and stepped out of the shower, turning to help your step over the wall of the tub. You threw your robe on and cinched the belt as he dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist. You caught him grinning at you, and it was so clear what he was thinking that it made your  laugh.

“What?” you demanded, squeezing the excess water out of your hair with a hand towel. “What are you smiling at?”

Bucky wetted his lips with his tongue, “Fuck it. You're just going to have to be late for work. Come here…”

“Hey!” your eyes widened playfully, jumping away from him. “Are you trying to kill me? Stop!”

Bucky untied your robe and you yelped, trying to slap his hands away. He just kept advancing on you, grinning devilishly. You turned and scampered away from him with a squeal of delight.

He followed behind, still grasping for the robe. You shrieked and laughed and ran towards the bedroom, and he followed, catching up to you and pushing you onto the bed with a resounding crack of the bed frame.

You laughed as he tumbled on top of you, but he silenced you with his mouth, kissing you hungrily as he impatiently pushed your robe aside. His breath was ragged as he nudged your legs apart with his knee, his need too great for the slow, sensual lovemaking of last night. He held his cock against your entrance and smoothly thrusts into you and moaned against your mouth, and you wrapped your legs around him to draw him deeper.

He plunged into you, covering your body and your mouth with the same hungry possession. You were still so warm and wet, so exquisitely ready for him that he filled you easily, driving you relentlessly as he tasted your tongue, your lips, your neck, and groaned from the pleasure your body was giving him.

You tensed around him and he moaned breathlessly, a throaty, male sound of pure ecstasy. He pounded into you, falling into a steady rhythm born of raw, primitive need. Your body tightened around him with every thrust, and waves of pleasure rippled through you, building in intensity up to an almost unbearable pressure, a delicious heat that made you moan into his mouth as he kissed you.

He rose up, his arms braced beside you, to look down as he stroked and withdrew and breathed out his pleasure while his eyes glowed pure heat. He grabbed your rear, tilting one hip up towards him, entering you  on such an angle that a new kaleidoscope of pleasure bloomed throughout you. He gripped you possessively, driving you deeper and faster and harder. His eyes burned, glowing like obsidian, hot and wild and almost frenzied with desire.

“Baby,” he groaned, his eyes pinning you, claiming you, as though he were branding you with your heat.

You're mine...

You're mine...

Your first time together had only been hours ago, but it was as if you had been lovers for years...every fluid flexing of his hips against you hit just the right spot, every deep, powerful thrust of his cock stretched your pussy with a familiar, almost expected surge of pleasure.

“Yes—oh god yes, Bucky—fuck me,” you breathed.

Two simple words and suddenly he was on the edge...buried so deep inside you, thrusting, plunging, your breasts pressed against his chest, the pleasure roaring through his body.

Suddenly he wanted to take you, hard. He wanted to fuck you with abandon, the eyes-closed, head-back, moaning-out-loud kind of sexual abandon that he had so rarely experienced in his life, but which was crashing through his body and mind right now.

He wanted this woman...he wanted to own you, to take you, to claim your body as his....he wanted to fuck you until he'd emptied his balls into you, feeling your pussy clenching and spasming in orgasm around his cock as he came, as you came, as you came together.

He withdrew from you quickly, barely able to catch his breath, and, as if you could read his thoughts, you turned onto your stomach just as his trembling hands guided your hips over. Your hair spilled over your bare back and your ass curved out so seductively it was all he could do not to cum right there, all over your smooth skin. But his cock knew what it wanted, and he pulled you forward to slide into the heaven of your pussy, so wet and tight and swollen for him.

He cried out when he took your again, his cock parting your folds and filling you so completely. The feel of him stretching you, the crest of his head pressing against your  from this new angle...you felt a tremor of pleasure ripple through you and knew you were close, as close as he was. When he leaned over you and began to kiss your  shoulders you shuddered, and when he began to thrust you buried your face in the pillow and moaned.

Your moans of pleasure filled the room and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to last, begging his aching cock not to explode just yet. . .this pace, these quick short strokes as his hips slapped against your ass, your body moving with his every thrust. . .It was almost too much to bear. Bucky buried his faced in your sweet-smelling hair and let his cock plunge as it would, faster and faster, making him shake, making him breathless, making him feel like nothing but a desperate cock as he fucked you.

And fucked you. And fucked you, as you had begged him to...

You could only whimper now, lost to the pleasure of his man taking you like this, fucking you so wildly, almost savagely. The pleasure he was taking from your body, his moans and groans and the growls of pleasure you could feel against your back and in the warm breath at your ear. . . it was pure, primal lust.

You felt worshiped beneath him, as if every thrust of his hungry cock was a tribute to you, every growl and sharp breath an oath. He was fucking you, mindlessly, and yet every part of him was attuned to you, touching you, adoring you.

As his pace grew even faster, his thrusts shallower, you could sense he was about to come, and you felt your muscles tighten around him to heighten his pleasure and hers. His thrusts were so powerful that you felt the orgasm rising in you and you closed your eyes, lifting your head back so he could slide his hand into your hair, gently holding your neck and kissing your jaw with breathy, open-mouthed kisses.

“Oh, God Bucky...I'm coming,” you moaned. “I'm coming.”

“Yes...cum for me baby....cum on my cock.”

“Cum with me....please....I want you to cum inside me, please....please....”

And he could withstand it no more.

Pleasure detonated through him as his orgasm spasmed throughout his body, wracking him with wave after wave of euphoric release. He cried out your name as he thrust and bucked against your flesh, driving his cock deeper and deeper as he came and came and came. It felt like he would never stop cumming, and when he felt your orgasm tear through your pussy and clench his cock in waves, he thought he might black out from the sheer ecstasy of it.

You slammed back against him as the first spurts of cum began to fill you, and felt your  ravaged pussy begin to spasm again and again, milking his cock, pulling his cum deeper into you, flooding you with ripples of pleasure. You moaned and writhed, riding the crest of one orgasm only to feel a second one begin to climb and then crash over you. Breathless, almost sobbing from the pleasure, you let him hold you as he continued to pound into you, draining his balls into you at his will, lost in the utter bliss of a man taking a woman in the most primal way.

When he could bear it no longer, when his exquisitely sensitive cock throbbed within you and the pleasure bordered on pain, he stilled, finally, and shuddered. Sharp spasms of pleasure shot through him as his cock surged one last time within you, his aching balls emptying every last ounce of come. Bucky was almost lightheaded, his chest heaving, sweat glazing his skin as he withdrew his hand from your hair and ran it down the center of your back, needing to touch you, needing to feel your heated skin. You were breathless too, your back moving beneath his hand as you lay your head down and tried to catch your breath.

You felt him withdraw from you, and your  pussy rebelled, clenching to keep him there, as if pleading with him not to go. Bucky groaned softly against your ear as he pulled out and fell on the bed beside you, his arms surrounding you and pulling your back against him. You fit perfectly together, and every muscle in your body relaxed as you snuggled into him and breathed out a contented sigh. You felt his lips on the shell of your ear, kissing softly, felt his slowing breath against your skin as his soft sounds of contentment and pleasure hummed in his throat.

This is heaven, you thought. Pure heaven. your pussy twitched and tingled as you felt his warm come beginning to slip down your  inner thighs. His strong arms surrounded you, his soft lips murmured and whispered and kissed, his spent cock nestled against the curve of your ass.

“There was something I wanted to tell you, remember?” he murmurs, his words brushing warmly against your skin as he kisses a path down to your shoulder. “Last night… something I wanted to say to you. Something I wanted you to know.”

You shift slightly, turning to look at him, your heart pounding as you search his eyes, barely able to breathe. 

“Tell me,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea.

His gaze softens, an unmistakable warmth filling his expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. 

“I love you.”

The words settle between you, simple but perfect, like they were always meant to be there. Your heart feels like it’s soaring, every nerve in your body alive with the thrill of it, of finally hearing what you’d been aching to hear.

You break into a smile, biting your lip, feeling giddy and light, and without a second thought, you lean forward, kissing him softly, your hand finding his as you whisper back, “I love you too.”

And as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that feels like home, you realize that, for the first time, everything feels right.

tags: @cereal6666 @thatesqcrush @cl7ire @bighappypiels @mostlymarvelgirl

@winchestert101 @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mcira @elvenrin

@xunquish-blog @meetmeattheapt

[parkers-gal]

take me home J.B.

pairing: husband!bucky barnes x f!reader

wc: 1.7k

trope: secret wife / secret relationship

warnings: not proof read. rip. i'll edit the mistakes tmr lol. this is another self indulgent piece bye

timeline: idk this is not a canon event but just imagine endgame never happened. i like to imagine him with the metal arm (not the vibranium one) but i think this can be seen with any

summary: the team discovers bucky's relationship with you when bucky searches for you in the hospital after hydra attacks new york

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

“we just got the last of them on the east side. does anyone need backup?” natasha’s voice rings through the comms. tony’s response comes within a few seconds.

“air is neutral up here.”

“we’re just about wrapping up here,” steve adds on. “let’s reconvene on fifth and check in with emergency services.” he glances at bucky who stands on his left, stoically waiting for the next command. bucky nods at steve’s silent question, you ready?

they step over a pile of rubble. bucky reloads his gun, placing it back in its holster and starting a light jog as steve leads them away from the scene behind them. hydra had sent many reinforcements after the team had done a recon mission at an abandoned hydra base that was unknowingly more important to them than the avengers had initially realized. new york came to bear the consequences, just as the city always did. something about high populated cities… or whatever steve told the team as they were gearing up a few hours ago.

they turn the next few blocks and see sam land beside wanda and clint, his wings collapsing into his jet-backpack. tony joins them, already starting his updates.

“nypd called in the national guard to detain as many of the human reinforcements as they could,” he fiddles with some tech on his arm. “emt said graybar, seagram, and chanin had some pretty heavy bombings. victims are being relo-”

“chanin?” bucky cuts in. most of his teammates look at him with shocked faces. “did you say the chanin building?”

“yes, tinman.” tony retorts. “victims are being relocated to the closest hospitals in the area.”

“which ones?”

slightly annoyed, tony turns to look at him. “does it matter?”

bucky’s jaw clenches. “yes. it does.”

sam cuts in.“there’s five hospitals within a mile of here, there’s no way you’re going to know where one person went, bucky.”

“i don’t give a fuck.” he’s definitive and it shuts everyone up. “i want to know which hospitals.”

with a sigh, steve concedes and jogs over to the paramedic perched on the end of an ambulance, assisting a woman with a cut on her eyebrow.

bucky decides to make his way over too, only hearing the tail end of the conversation as steve says ‘thank you.’

“well?”

steve sighs again. “he said lagone is the closest, but frank ross hospital and tisch are taking in some too because the influx is so bad.”

bucky doesn’t even reply, jogging off in the direction of the first hospital and leaving steve in the middle of the road, stunned.

clint breaks the silence. “where is he going?”

“to the hospital, i guess?” steve sounds unsure in his response, still watching as bucky gets smaller and smaller as the distance between them increases. 

“maybe we should go with him.” wanda suggests. “we still need to debrief and do our write ups.”

natasha gives her a side eye and wanda laughs. 

“just following orders.” she exaggerates, teasing natasha and steve for their insistence on following the protocols. 

“alright let’s go, then.” tony thrusts upward, sam following him up as everyone else begins to jog in bucky’s direction.

but bucky is fast. they don’t realize how much until they almost lose him two blocks over. they trail behind him as he bursts through the emergency room, charging towards the front desk. 

“do you have a patient named y/n?” he begins to spell out your name letter by letter until the desk attendant interrupts.

“sir, i need you to step into the waiting room unless you need immediate medical care.” the room around them is a flurry of crying people, overwhelmed nurses, and helpless policeman who try to reorganize the growing number of patients. 

“no, i need you to check if you have a patient under the name of y/-”

the team stands by the entrance, watching the interaction unfold but not quite understanding it.

“who is he looking for?”

everyone turns to steve assuming he knows, but his face shows just as much confusion. “i don’t know.”

“please,” bucky starts again. “do you have a patient register for today’s patients?”

with a click of her tongue, she hands bucky a clipboard with several papers on it. bucky’s eyes scan the names, worry etched on his face when he doesn’t see yours. 

“sorry.” he mumbles, leaving the clipboard on the counter and turning around. he stops when he sees the team, but moves past them when he remembers what he’s doing.

anxiety is gnawing at him as he finds his motorcycle parked by the quinjet a few blocks away. he immediately drives off towards the next hospital, worried as ever that something has happened to you. you aren’t answering his calls, not texting him back, and he can’t find your location on the little app you taught him how to use. he doesn’t know what else to do. 

the team can barely keep up, trying their best to help the people around them as they trail after bucky. they still don’t know what he’s doing or who he’s looking for. 

by the third hospital, bucky is fed up and on the verge of a breakdown. he only has so much patience at this point, and sam is all too familiar with the signs.

“do you have a patient under the name y/n?” it’s the third time in the last hour he’s desperately asked a nurse at a front desk. he does the same thing, spelling out your name letter by letter until the nurse interrupts him. 

“you’ll have to wait to check the registry list after all the patients have been attended to.”

“how long is that going to take?” his voice is laced with attitude, and he almost feels bad if not for the pit of anxiety swelling in his stomach. 

“sir, you’re wasting my time.”

“bucky, c’mon, let’s go.” steve reaches to hold bucky’s shoulder, but he shrugs it off.

“no, goddammit!” he’s fuming, turning back to the nurse. “i need you to tell me if you have a patient, y/n barnes. i’m her next of kin.” he slams his fist on the counter. steve takes a step back towards sam, in shock at the information.

“does he have, like, a niece?” sam asks. “did he tell you anything about his sister? maybe she had a family after-”

“yes, i see her name listed here. only immediate family can see her.”

“i am immediate family!”

“sir, unless you are a parent or her husband, you need to wait until all th-”

“i am her husband!” he slams his ring down on the counter, gripping onto it like he depends on it, because he can’t risk losing you. “take me to see me wife right now.”

with a nod, she leads bucky down a hallway of rooms, turning left into the very first room. she makes her way back towards the front desk where steve has now approached.

“hi, ma’am. would you mind if-” steve gestures towards the room. the nurse’s jaw drops at seeing the vibranium shield, clint’s bow, and tony stark standing there with a partially deconstructed nano-tech suit. 

“go right ahead.” she stutters out, watching the avengers trail after the man with the metal arm. they stop in the doorway, huddled as they watch.

“y/n?” bucky steps towards the hospital bed.

you aren’t even laying in it. you’re sitting on the edge of it staring out a window, back facing the door. at the sound of his voice, you whip around. tear streaks stain your face.

“bucky, oh my god-” you run into his chest, engulfing him in a hug. he sighs into your hair, smelling you and breathing in relief at the sight.

“you’re okay, it’s okay.” he coos, rubbing your back. “what happened? are you hurt?”

you shake your head, still nuzzled into his chest. you peer up at him, “paramedics found me unconscious. it’s just a concussion, but they brought me in anyways. i just have a couple stitches.” you gesture to your calf. “rough fall after i got knocked out, i guess.”

he nods, pulling you in for a kiss. it’s desperate and full of love and every emotion he’d felt in the last two hours.

“i thought- i thou-”

“no.” you cut him off. “i tried to find a phone but nothing was going through. i saw the weird alien dogs coming from a giant truck, and- and the hydra symbol was plastered all along the sides i thought maybe they-” you can’t even finish your sentence, too overwhelmed at the possibility. 

“never.” he kisses your forehead, holding your face in both his hands. “they could never take me from you.”

you rest your forehead against his, inhaling the scent of your husband and gripping onto him because you never want to leave him again. 

“so..” tony cuts in. “wife?”

“tony!” natasha scolds. “get back here!”

clint tries his best not to laugh but he can barely hold it in.

sam is next to join in. “when did this happen?” he looks at steve with a quirked brow. “did you know?”

“i swear i didn’t.”

“a wife.” sam repeats. “you didn’t know your best friend has a wife.”

“he’s a trained spy!”

“and a former soviet asset.” clint confers. “you’d think you would keep more tabs on the guy.”

steve rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to bucky.

“is she really your wife?”

bucky nods reluctantly, a little sheepish as you hold up your left hand to show them your rings. 

“for four years now.”

“FOUR YEARS????” 

“sam-” 

“and you NEVER SAID ANYTHING?”

“guys” nat pays no mind to sam’s ramblings. “i think we can all agree how hard it is to live life as an avenger. it’s not like clint was exactly honest about his family, either.”

“i thought you were on my side!” he huffs.

“whatever.” sam pouts. “i wish i could’ve gone to the wedding.”

“we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” bucky smiles appreciatively at steve, who starts moving back towards the exit. “maybe we can talk about this when everything settles down and she gets out of the hospital.” steve looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time. deep down, he’s glad his best friend found the one thing he’s wanted his whole life. “right bucky?”

bucky nods. 

“okay,” steve smiles understandingly. “debrief is tomorrow at noon. don’t be late.”

bucky turns back to you as the team leaves your hospital room. 

“i guess the secrets out.”

bucky nods in agreement. “i’m really glad you’re okay.”

you kiss him again, “take me home, bucky.”

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

bucky masterlist

part two?

[orithyia-eriphyle]

summer breeze - b. barnes x reader

Summary: The one where Bucky is still adjusting to his newfound freedom, and you are his light at the end of the tunnel.

Warnings: Swearing, non-sexual nudity, injuries, and blood.

Reader has sun/solar-based abilities.

6.1k words

Bucky Barnes was a man of few words. He said only what was necessary and hardly spoke unless spoken to. Steve seemed to be the only person who could ever get Bucky to talk freely. Sam was a close second, although he teased Bucky more than once until the soldier was grumbling expletives under his breath with a clenched fist. 

However, Bucky was a creature of habit.

He woke at dawn every day to go on a run with Sam and Steve, not before drinking a hot cup of black coffee. After his jog, he would train in the gym for two hours and then leave for a shower. He would then make himself a simple lunch and catch up on work. Lastly, Bucky ended his night by reading a book of his choice to help ease his mind. 

When Bucky began to deviate from said routine about two months ago, it did not go unnoticed. 

It started not too long after Bucky had moved into the tower. Bucky had been placed on the same floor as you, his bedroom right across the hall from yours. 

You would wake as he was coming back from the gym, usually catching him on the way back to his ensuite bathroom for a shower. You would greet him with the same sugary sweet smile and voice that almost tempted the super soldier to crack from his usual brooding and smile back.

But he never did. At least, not until recently. 

You knew that Bucky had nightmares. You could hear him at night. The screams of pain, terror, guilt. You name it. 

Every time his nightmares woke you up, the only thing you wanted to do was help. However, Steve and Tony advised against it. They reminded you that Bucky was still unstable, and it was best to let him ride out his nightmares alone, no matter how terrible they may sound. 

You hated it. 

Some nights, you would stay up staring at the dark ceiling in your room, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks at the sound of his yells. It would never last longer than a few minutes. But those few minutes were enough for you to feel your heart break for him. 

After roughly a month of only seeing Bucky in passing, he surprised you. 

You and Natasha had been on a week-long mission across seas and were scheduled to return home that night. You had practically stumbled off the Quinjet, your bones and muscles aching with exhaustion. You walked past the medbay despite Natasha’s protest to at least get checked on. Instead, opt for a hot shower and your warm bed.

What you didn’t expect was to find Bucky sitting at your shared kitchen counter, a hot plate of spaghetti set on the bar across from him. 

As soon as the elevator doors dinged open, his gaze shot to you. You tried to ignore the way it roamed over your body, as if assessing for any injury, as you approached the kitchen.  

Seeing Bucky in the kitchen wasn’t an unusual sight for you. However, it was well past midnight, meaning it was well past Bucky’s unspoken bedtime. 

“What’s this?” You ask quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful silence that enveloped the two of you.

Bucky glanced at the food, then back to you. His face never changing. “It’s for you.” He spoke, his voice coming out gruff as if it hadn’t been used in a while. Which it probably hadn’t. 

You quirked a brow at him but took a seat in front of the plate. This was an unusual display from him, and the last thing you wanted to do was embarrass or scare him off. 

You swirled the noodles around your fork and took a bite, savoring the taste as it melted against your tongue. 

“You don’t eat after missions.”

Your eyes shot to Bucky at the sound of his voice. However, he was looking at the counter and not at you.

“It doesn’t really cross my mind.” You reply, returning to your meal. 

“You need to eat.” He responded firmly. The clipped way in which he spoke made you not want to argue. 

“I might be more inclined to eat after a mission if I came home to home-cooked meals every time.” You attempted to joke with him. He didn’t even smirk.

He pointed at your plate, “Eat.” He said before stalking off back towards his room.

Your gaze followed his broad shoulders. “Thank you!” You remembered to shout down the hall, not missing the way his footsteps halted for hardly a millisecond. You smiled down at your food, glad to see that he cared in his own, quiet way. 

The next mission you came back from, there was a hot plate of food already waiting for you on the counter. 

You shoot awake in your bed at the sound of a scream followed by loud bangs. You knew who it was. Bucky’s nightmares were bad, but he had yet to get violent. 

You sat in your bed and stared at your bedroom door as if willing yourself to see through the walls separating the two of you.   

Every instinct in your body screamed to help him. Help him not suffer anymore. But the voices of Steve and Tony rang in your head, warning you against it. You contemplated as the violent noises didn’t let up, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. 

Fuck it. You’re an Avenger. If he tries to kill you, then you’ll figure it out.

You slipped out of bed, the cool air hitting your bare legs. You snapped your fingers, a small glowing ball forming above your hand and lighting up the surrounding area. You pushed your bedroom door open and crept across the hall to Bucky’s room. You paused in front of his door, taking a deep breath as your heart thrummed unsteadily in your chest. 

You pushed the handle down slowly, pushing the door open and extending your makeshift light into the room to see. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust, but then you saw him, and the sight in front of you just about broke you. 

His usually large form was made small against the corner of his room. His knees were folded to his chest and his head tucked down. You could see his body tremble violently from where you stood in the doorway. 

“Bucky.” You called out, gentle yet firm. 

He didn’t seem to hear you, his head still tucked and his body shaking. 

You took another deep breath, scolding yourself for being stupid before stepping further into the room and towards the soldier. As you got closer, you could make out the sound of his stuttered breathing and the occasional hitch. Your frown deepened. 

“Bucky? Bucky, it’s me. (Y/n).” You spoke again, slowly kneeling in front of the man. 

Still no response. 

You breathed out a long breath through your nose before closing your eyes briefly. 

You reached a hand out to him, slow and careful. As gently as you could manage, you placed a hand on his shoulder. 

Before you could even react, your body was slammed to the floor, and an arm was pressed across your chest, holding you down. 

Bucky stared down at you with wild eyes. His forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat, and his breathing was labored. His arm on your chest was firm, but you could feel the way that it shook against you. 

“Bucky! Hey! It’s me!” Your voice rose slightly despite you trying to stay calm. 

Bucky’s hold on you didn’t let up. All he did was continue to stare at you with that blank stare, as if he weren’t all there. 

Your chest heaved as you tried to think, looking around the room. Suddenly, it hit you. 

You evened out your breathing and reached a steady hand out to him. His eyes darted between you and your hand, but he didn’t stop you. 

You gently placed your hand against his stubble-covered cheek. You spoke to him softly. Like a mother calming down her frightened child. 

“It’s okay, Buck. I’m right here. You’re safe.” You paused as you felt the pressure on your chest let up a bit. You continued, “They can’t make you do anything here, Bucky. I’m here. (Y/n) is right here with you. I won’t let them hurt you again.” You whispered, softly running your thumb over the curve of his jaw.

You watched as the light slowly returned to his blue eyes, and his breathing began to slow again. 

“(Y-Y/n)?” Bucky croaked out, his voice rough from yelling. 

You smiled at him. “Yeah, Buck. It’s me.” Your hand never left his face.  

Buckt seemed to finally realize the situation you were in, and he retracted his arm like he had been burned. He scrambled backwards until his back hit the side of his bed. 

“Y-You need to leave. I don’t want to hurt you.” He stuttered out, his eyes not meeting your own. You smiled at him gently and scooted towards him. 

“But you didn’t, Buck. You didn’t even come close.” You stated, placing a firm hand against his vibranium arm.

“But-”

“No buts. I’m okay. You’re okay.” You interjected, not wanting him to linger on the prospect of accidentally hurting you any longer. 

There was a brief pause between you two as Bucky’s breath finally evened out fully. “Why are you in here?” He questioned gruffly. 

You tilted your head at him as if he should know the answer to that already. “I was worried and wanted to help.” You responded, never raising your voice over a whisper.

Bucky let out a self-deprecating scoff. “I can deal with the nightmares on my own.” He said, once again avoiding your gaze. 

You grabbe his jaw once again, ignoring the way he stiffened for a second and tilted his eyes up to meet yours. 

“You don’t have to deal with them on your own.” You reassured him, your gaze unwavering. Bucky swallowed as he stared at you. You realized he might be uncomfortable being so close to someone he hardly knew, so you scooted away and dropped your hand from his face.

Bucky tried to ignore the twinge of disappointment he felt. 

Since that night, you and Bucky had gotten noticeably closer. 

He lingered around the compound more and followed you around like a lost puppy. He would do small things for you. things he wouldn’t do for anyone else. 

He would grab things for you off the top shelf that you couldn’t quite reach. He waited for you outside the gym so he could walk you back to your shared floor. He would make an extra pot of coffee in the morning for when you woke up.

The others began to notice. 

One day, Sam and Steve were visiting Bucky on your guys’ floor. You were out with Wanda and Natasha and would be returning anytime now. 

Bucky stood at the oven, the sound of food sizzling on a pan bouncing around the kitchen. 

“I didn’t take you for a chicken tender guy, Barnes,” Sam stated as he sat at the kitchen bar with Steve. Bucky didn’t even glance over his shoulder before responding. 

“(Y/n) likes them.” He said in his usual gruff tone.

Sam looked at Steve, who just shrugged. Sam continued with his teasing.

“So you’re making lunch for (Y/n), who isn’t even home yet, and won’t make any for us?” Sam said with a quirked brow. 

This time, Bucky threw a quick look at the two men over his shoulder before turning back to the stove. “(Y/n) likes my cooking.” He stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Right on cue, the elevator doors opened, and you walked through. “Hey, boys.” You greeted casually as you beelined straight for Bucky. They didn’t miss the small quirk on his lips as he watched you approach him.

“Hey, Buck.” You greeted him separately, placing a gentle hand on the middle of his back, right between his shoulder blades. You looked down at the pan of chicken. “You makin’ yourself some lunch?” You questioned quietly. Bucky shook his head lightly. 

“It’s for you…if you want it.” He said in an almost timid manner, afraid you would reject his cooking despite never having done so before. 

Your smile was blinding as you looked back up at him. “I could never say no to your cooking, Bucky. Thank you.” You said, a sincere grin stretched across your face. 

Sam and Steve watched the almost domestic interaction before excusing themselves and heading to the elevator.

“Man, did you see that?!” Sam questioned with an incredulous wave of his arms as soon as the doors of the elevator shut. 

“I haven’t seen him act that comfortable around anybody but me,” Steve replied, brows furrowed. “I figured they would warm up to each other eventually due to the proximity, but I never expected it to happen this quick,” Steve stated. His mind was running a mile a minute to figure out what you possibly could’ve done to make Bucky act so… peaceful. 

Sam shook his head as the doors opened to another floor, and they stepped out. “As curious as I am, I’ll take this as a win. It’s good he’s opening up to someone.” The man said to Steve, who gave him a firm nod.

“Let’s hope it progresses from here, then.”

“You are going to pace a hole into my floors, Tinman,” Tony said sarcastically as he watched Bucky’s large frame lumber back and forth in front of the large doors of the landing pad of the tower. 

His gaze snapped up to Tony. “Her comms are shut off, and she was supposed to be back an hour ago.” He said, his voice hoarse. Tony sighed in understanding. Despite his playful demeanor, he too was worried about you. 

“That’s why we sent Rogers and Romanoff out 30 minutes ago. They’ll get her, and everyone will be okay.” Tony said in an attempt to calm the anxious super soldier. 

Suddenly, Natasha’s voice crackled to life over the intercom of the room they were in. “We found her. She’s unconscious and bleeding. The rest of the men have been taken care of, and we’re taking her back to the jet.” Natasha spoke with an emotionless tone. The tone she uses when she doesn’t want to break.

Tony was the one to reply, but it was all white noise for Bucky.

Bucky felt like the world was crumbling around him. His small, quiet world he had just barely managed to build. 

In the year that Bucky had been living with the Avengers, living with you, he had grown an undeniable fondness towards you. He knew it, and so did everyone else. You were his sun, and not just because of your abilities. You reached out to him when he felt like he was drowning. Every moment spent with you felt like breathing. 

Each night that you came into his room and calmed him down from whatever terrors that lingered in his mind meant so much to him. Each time, you invited him to watch a movie with you. Something so simple, but you didn’t have to. Sometimes, he would wake up to the credits rolling and his head in your lap. Your delicate fingers running through his long hair.

He clung to your natural warmth like it was the only thing he knew. You were the most gentle being he ever met. He was only reminded of your strength when out on the battlefield, watching you tear through the enemy forces like it was second nature.

His breathing grew heavy as every sweet memory the two of you shared crossed his mind. All he could think about was you. Your voice, your laughter, the way your hair fell against your shoulders, the glint you got in your eyes when you teased him, the way you would hum him to sleep after a particularly rough dream. 

Bucky decided then and there that he couldn’t live without you. Couldn’t live without the warmth you brought to his cold heart. 

“...nes! Barnes!” Bucky’s head shot up at the sound of Tony’s voice. The billionaire was looking down at the trembling man.

“You need to get it together, pal. They’re almost here, and we need your muscles to get her to the medbay.” Bucky’s open mouth closed as he nodded and stood. 

“Did something happen to Steve?” He questioned, knowing that Steve was plenty capable of carrying you himself.

Tony held his chin between two fingers. “Bullet wound in the abdomen. He’s awake and stable but in no condition to carry anyone.” Tony said as the quinjet came into view and began to descend onto the landing pad. Tony looked to Bucky, “She’s top priority.” Bucky nodded. He didn’t need to be told that. 

As soon as the doors opened, the two men descended upon the quinjet. Natasha stepped out with Steve’s weakening body slumped against her body, supporting his weight. She looked to Bucky, “She’s laid out on the seats. Bleeding’s been stopped.” Bucky gave a curt nod and rushed to your unconscious body that was draped over the quinjet’s seating. 

He scooped you into his arms as Tony followed behind, relaying your visible condition to the doctors via the communications device in his ear. 

Bucky’s heavy footfalls thudded throughout the hall as he ran to the medbay. He glanced down at your face every so often. “C’mon sweetheart. You gotta wake up.” He mumbled to himself as the medbay doors finally came into view. 

The attending doctors rushed out the doors to guide Bucky to the surgical table. He set you down gently and watched as the doctors swooped down on you, scissors cutting open your gear and clothes. 

Tony placed a hand on his chest, “C’mon, Barnes. We gotta leave so they can help her.” Tony showed an unusual gentleness, understanding Bucky’s feelings. 

Bucky didn’t put up a fight. He knew he’d just get in the way if he stayed. He exited the doors and walked to the room where Steve was being fixed up. 

The doors slid open, and he met the gaze of Natasha and Steve. His eyes were cold as he stared at them.

“You said it was just a recon mission. There shouldn’t have been that many people there.” Bucky spoke to Steve, his voice unwavering but gruff. 

Steve huffed, his gaze fixed on the linoleum floors. “It was an ambush. More men than she could handle on her own.” He stated. Bucky didn’t reply, his gaze flickering over to Natasha, who was worrying her lip between her teeth. 

“What happened to her?” His voice was quieter now, unsure if he wanted the answer.

Natasha responded this time, “She got overwhelmed. They had some new tech. Something that subdued her powers enough for them to get close.” Natasha’s voice faltered as she continued, “Four gunshot wounds to the torso and a lacerated spleen due to a knife.” 

Bucky swallowed down the lump in his throat. He had taken more gunshots, more knives to the torso than he could remember. But you were you. You didn’t have some fancy serum running through your veins that healed you faster like he and Steve did. 

Bucky almost didn’t want to ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue, but he did. “Do you think she’ll be okay?” His voice was quiet and strained. 

He took note of the hesitance in both Steve and Natasha’s faces. Finally, Steve replied. “We’re unsure. She was unconscious by the time we got to her, and we don’t know how long she was like that.”

Bucky’s whole demeanor changed. His already stiff shoulders tensed considerably, his jaw locked, and his gaze became steely.

“If she dies–” Bucky choked out, not able to finish his sentence. His vibranium fist clenched so hard the metal groaned under the pressure.

He turned and stormed out of the room.

You were out of surgery soon enough and were wheeled into a recovery room. You were stable, and the doctors said you would be okay. But you were yet to wake up. 

Bucky sat next to your bed, his right hand laced with yours. He wanted to feel the unnatural warmth you always had. But now you felt just like everyone else. 

It had been two days since your surgery, and Bucky had only left your side to use the bathroom and to eat. 

Bucky’s eyes shot to the door as Steve walked in. He took in the sight of his best friend. His shoulders were slumped, and his eyes were sunken due to exhaustion. 

“Buck.” He said gently, “You need to rest up and shower.” 

“I can’t. What if she wakes up?” He asked. His voice was hoarse and broken.

Steve sighed. “I’ll be right here, and you’ll be the first to know.” He reassured him. However, Bucky didn’t move. 

“C’mon, Buck. You know she won’t want to see you like that.” He said, stepping closer. “She won’t be able to focus on recovering if she’s too worried about you.” 

Bucky’s eyes met Steve’s. He was right, you couldn’t see him this way. He stood from his chair, his eyes never leaving your face as he walked to the door. 

“Promise me you’ll tell me as soon as she wakes up.” He said, not looking at Steve.

Still, Steve smiled, “I promise, Buck.”

Bucky was quick in the shower, feeling no need to linger. 

Now, he laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He had no desire to sleep. He didn’t deserve to. Not when you were suffering on your own. However, the exhaustion from being up for two days straight and worrying about you finally creeps up on him. He tried to fight off the sleep, but his eyelids only grew heavier and heavier until he drifted off.

“... Sergeant Barnes.” The artificial voice rang throughout his room, causing Bucky to shoot up from his bed.

“FRIDAY?” He croaked out. His voice thick with sleep.

“Captain Rogers asked me to inform you that Miss. (L/n) is awake and is requesting to see you.” The robotic voice explained. 

Bucky didn’t need to hear anything else as he stumbled from his bed and to the door of his room. His breathing was heavy and rough as he sprinted to your recovery room. Every fiber in his being screamed at him to move faster, get to you quicker. As if you would disappear if he didn’t.

Bucky began closing in on the doors of your recovery room, not bothering to slow down, opting to barrel through the cracked door.

His quick movements came to a halt at the sight of you. You were sat up in your bed, Steve’s hand on your back to keep you stable. There was a doctor in the room with a clipboard, presumably talking to you before being interrupted by Bucky’s dramatic entrance. 

Bucky’s breathing was labored as your eyes locked on him, and despite your situation, despite all the pain, you grinned. “Bucky.” His name came out of your mouth in a quiet whisper. 

He stalked over to you and felt his hand tremble as he reached for yours. “Hey, doll.” He said quietly, attempting to match your smile with a shaky one. 

Steve nodded to the doctor, who got the message and turned to leave. Steve spoke next. “You two catch up for now.” He said, then turned to you, “Let us know if you need anything.” He spoke more gently now. 

You smiled up at him. “Thank you, Steve.”

Steve nodded and left the room.

You looked back to Bucky, your fingers slowly gaining back their warmth. “Hi, Bucky.” You said, your grin not leaving your face.

Bucky let out a disbelieving laugh. “How can you be grinning right now?” He asked, his smile gentle and sweet. 

You shrugged and ran your thumb over the back of his hand, tracing the scars. “Well, I’m alive, aren’t I? I couldn’t have asked for better.” You spoke to him.

Bucky shook his head. “I would’ve preferred for you not to be sitting here, injured.” He said, his eyes glancing over your every feature. He couldn’t be happier to be talking to you right now. 

“Bucky?” Your small voice echoed between the two of you.

His eyes never left your face. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“I want to take a shower.” You stated plainly. 

Bucky laughed increduously at your simple request. “Baby—” The pet name slipped out, but he didn’t notice. “You are in no condition to leave this bed right now.” He said.

You pouted. “Bucky, I feel so gross. I can’t live like this.”

He rolled his eyes at your whining but kept smiling. “As soon as you’re cleared, doll, I’ll get you a shower. I promise.” He said gently, as if he were placating a child.

Your smile softened. “Okay, Bucky. Thank you.”

Bucky’s head tilted slightly as he looked at you. “Anything you want, doll, it’s yours.”

It took only two more days for you to be cleared to walk around and move back into your room. You were to report back for daily checkups and were on strong antibiotics. 

Bucky stood next to your hospital bed as you shimmied your shirt over your head. He turned away to protect your modesty but stood close in case you needed his help. 

“Bucky.” 

He turned back around at the call of his name, his gaze raking over your body. It was refreshing to see you in something other than a hospital gown.

“Ready to go?” He asked, extending his vibranium hand out to you. You nodded. You took his hand and stood shakily. His flesh hand was placed gently on the small of your back as he helped you stand. “Let me know if you need me to carry you.” He said firmly, not wanting to risk you getting injured any further. 

The two of you walked out of the room. His usual quick strides were slower in shorter to keep pace with you. Slowly but surely, the two of you made it to your room. You sat on your bed to catch your breath, having not been used to walking so far, let alone at all. 

Bucky watched as your gaze lingered on your bathroom door. “Shower?” He asked you. You looked to him with a small smile and nodded. 

Before you could bother trying to stand, Bucky was walking to your bathroom. You listened to the sound of the shower as Bucky turned it on. He came back to the room and rummaged through your drawers, looking for comfortable clothes. He went back to the bathroom to place your folded clothes on the counter for you. He was quick to walk back out to your side, hoisting you up gently. 

“You don’t have to do this, Buck.” You spoke softly. 

Bucky didn’t look at you, too focused on watching your footing. “Don’t start with that. I want to.” He replied, leaving no room for argument. 

The two of you made it to the bathroom, and he slowly dropped your hand. 

“Do you need help?” He asked, not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

You glanced over at your shower. It was a walk-in, so it should be manageable. “No, I think I’ll be okay.” You replied and turned to look back at Bucky.

You could still see the worry swirl in his eyes, but you knew he wouldn’t stop worrying until you were completely healed. Eventually, he nodded. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be right outside the door.” He said.

You smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Bucky. I will.”

His gaze lingered on you before turning to leave, closing the door with a quiet click behind him. 

You turned to the shower and took a deep breath. You took off your clothes slowly, ignoring the searing pain in your torso as you lifted your arms over your head to get your shirt off. 

You had finally managed to get your clothes off and stared at yourself in the mirror. You frowned at your wounds that were stitched closed and traced a finger over them. They would scar. 

You sighed and walked slowly to the shower. You felt the temperature of the water, smiling to yourself when you realized Bucky had it set to just the right temperature. You stepped in and groaned in pleasure at the feeling of the warm water beating against your skin. Your muscles began to relax as the water cascaded gently against your body.

You decided you couldn’t keep Bucky waiting forever and decided to begin washing yourself. You leaned over for your shampoo but winced and grabbed one of the wounds on your side. It seemed it didn’t agree with the movement. You powered through and grabbed the bottle, opening the lid and squirting the soap into your hand. 

You reached up to your head, ignoring the pain that racked up and down your body, and began scrubbing.

Your teeth are gritted painfully together, the white hot pain becoming unbearable. You couldn’t hold your arms up, let alone move them, for long due to your body being littered with deep wounds. You became frustrated, dropping your arms as the soap dripped down your hair and hands. Tears sprung to your eyes, angry with your own helplessness. 

You took a deep breath and shut the water off.

Bucky’s brows furrowed in confusion at the sound of the water stopping. That was way too quick, especially considering your condition. 

“Bucky?” Your small voice echoed from behind the door.

 Bucky sprang up and paused right outside the door, hand already on the handle. “Doll? You alright?” He called out, his face etched with worry. 

No response.

“Sweetheart, if you don’t answer me, I’m going to come in there.” He could hear the worry in his voice as he spoke.

Once again, no response. 

Bucky’s breathing faltered, and he pressed down on the handle, pushing the door open with ease. 

His gaze immediately locked on you. Your arms were crossed over your chest, your body trembling. Either in pain or due to the cold on your wet skin. He couldn’t tell. However, he felt his heart clench in his chest at the sight of your wet eyes and your shaky bottom lip.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He breathed out, reaching you in three quick strides as his hands raised to cup your face gently.

“What’s wrong, honey?” He asked in a whisper, as if speaking in a normal voice would hurt you further. 

Your water eyes looked up at his, and you drew in a shaky breath before speaking. “I-I can’t–” You swallowed before continuing. “I need your help.” You said, “Please?” You choked out, meek and scared. 

Bucky felt his heart shatter. In the year he has known you, he has never seen you like this. So small and sad. 

Bucky brushed a tear from your cheek as it fell. “Of course, sweetheart.” His hands moved from your cheeks and to your shoulders. He nudged you back into the shower and turned the handle. The water came back to life, still warm. It trickled down your body as you stood there. 

Bucky smiled at you softly. “Are you okay with me taking my clothes off, doll?” He asked, not wanting to make you any more uncomfortable than you already may be. He watched as you gave him a quick nod, the tears still not leaving your eyes. 

Bucky made quick work of his clothes before stepping into the shower right behind you. “Is it okay if I touch you?” He asked calmly. You responded with another nod of your head. 

Bucky drew in a breath before reaching for your hair and scrubbing in the rest of the shampoo. He was gentle and careful, treating you like a doll. His doll. He turned you around to rinse your hair in the water but paused when he saw the tears running down your face and your lip still trembling. His frown deepened as he took in your smaller form.

He cupped your face again. “What’s wrong, honey? Where’s it hurt?” He questioned, his gaze dropping slightly to look at your wounds before he locked his eyes back onto yours. 

You shook your head at him, and his brows furrowed in response. “You gotta talk to me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what's wrong.” He chided gently, egging you on. 

You drew in a shaky breath before speaking. “I was so scared, Bucky.” You looked down at his chest, wanting to avoid his gaze. “I-I thought I was going to die.” You choked out.

Bucky’s shoulders tensed as he realized you were talking about that day. You hadn’t spoken of it since you woke up. No one pressured you, knowing you needed time. Bucky was about to respond, but you cut him off.

“And all I could think about—” You hiccuped, practically choking on your own emotion. “All I could think about was you.” You finally got out.

Bucky froze where he stood, his eyes widening slightly. 

“All I could think about was what you would do if I died. Who would comfort you when you had a nightmare—” You were speaking too fast now and tripping over your words. “And then, I sat there. Bleeding out, in pain, and my consciousness beginning to slip.” You paused. “All I thought about was how I was going to die here, cold and alone, never getting to tell you how I felt.” 

Bucky’s heart pounded hard in his chest as you rambled on. His grip on your face tightened slightly. “Doll—” He croaked, but you cut him off again. 

Your eyes locked with his. The color in them more vibrant with your tears. “I love you, Bucky Barnes. And I have to tell you now, or I’ll regret it forever.” You said resolutely, your voice more steady than it had been since he had entered the shower with you. 

Bucky could feel his own hands tremble. Could feel every beat of his pounding heart against his ribcage.

“You l-love me?” Bucky choked out, his own eyes beginning to water. 

You nodded, nuzzling your face into his open palm. Your eyes were still wet, and your lips still trembled. 

Bucky rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. He took in a steadying breath as he felt your lips brush his. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered. 

You responded with an almost imperceptible nod. 

Bucky sighed before slotting his lips against yours gently. He poured every ounce of love into that kiss. Every feeling you’ve ever made his cold heart feel. One of his hands dropped to your waist, the other to the side of your neck. He pulled you against him, his lips working over yours slowly. He groaned as one of your hands made their way into his hair, pulling gently. 

You pulled away first, gasping for air as you rested your forehead against his chest. Bucky’s hand gently chucked your chin, directing your gaze towards his. His eyes were so soft, so different from the usual look they held.

“I love you too, doll.” He whispered.

You felt your face split into a smile. Your tears were long gone. All you felt in that moment was love and joy. 

You tucked your face back into his chest as your body began to heat in giddy embarrassment due to your power. You felt the rumble of Bucky’s laugh against you. 

“You can’t be embarrassed now, Sweetheart. I’ve already seen you naked.” 

You responded with a smack to his chest and glared up at him. He only continued to smile at you before leaning down and capturing your lips into another kiss. This kiss was softer, slower. 

He pulled back and mumbled against your mouth. “Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again.”

divider creds: @aquazero

[happy74827]

Bruised Shadows

[Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: While coming home from another grueling job, Bucky found himself ambushed by the unrelenting warmth of his neighbor’s compassion.

WC: 3002

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Grumpy x Sunshine (fav trope fr)

I decided to post one of my drafts since it has been decades since I’ve posted last… whoops 👀

『••✎••』

Bucky Barnes didn’t notice the blood until it dripped onto the scuffed toe of his boot. A crimson bead, sharp against the black leather, caught the dim hallway light as he trudged toward his apartment. He swiped the back of his flesh hand across the bridge of his nose, smearing the trickle, and grunted. Didn’t hurt. Barely registered. The serum had a way of dulling the sting of split skin and bruised bone—nothing a few hours wouldn’t knit back together. The ache in his knuckles from the job, though? That lingered, a quiet reminder of the fists he’d thrown and the unconscious bodies he’d left sprawled in some warehouse two states over.

The duffel bag slung over his vibranium shoulder thumped rhythmically against his hip, heavy with gear he hadn’t bothered to unpack. Another day, another mess cleaned up with Sam, for which he took most of the credit, but Bucky didn’t care much about the public eye—just the doing. It kept his hands busy and his mind occupied. Kept the nightmares at bay, if only for a night.

He was three steps from his door, key already fished from his pocket, when he heard it—your voice, soft as a damn spring breeze, cutting through the stale air of the hallway.

"James?"

He froze but didn’t turn. He didn’t need to. He knew it was you—only you called his name like that like it wasn’t a curse or a weapon. Like it was just… his. He clenched his jaw, the ache in his bruised eye socket pulsing faintly as he willed you to keep walking. You lived two doors down, always too close for comfort, always too you—bright and warm and everything he wasn’t. He’d spent months dodging the way you lingered in his trajectory, all soft smiles and small talk he didn’t deserve.

"James, oh my God, what happened to your face?"

There it was—concern, thick and unfiltered, wrapping around him like a blanket he didn’t ask for. He turned his head just enough to catch you in his peripheral, and Christ, there you were—hair a little messy from whatever late-night project you’d been buried in, eyes wide and shining with that unbearable kindness. You were clutching a mug, steam curling from it, probably tea or something equally gentle. You looked like an angel, and he felt like the devil himself standing there, bloodied and hulking in his tactical gear.

"It’s nothing," he muttered, voice low and rough, turning back to his door. "I’m fine."

"You’re bleeding." Your footsteps pattered closer, too quick for him to escape, and suddenly you were right there—close enough that he could smell the lavender on you, feel the warmth radiating off your skin. His metal arm twitched, instinct screaming at him to pull away before he tainted you somehow. "Your nose, your eye—James, that’s not nothing."

He exhaled sharply through his nose, wincing when it stung the raw skin. "I’ve had worse. Go back to your tea."

But you didn’t. Of course, you didn’t. You never listened when he tried to brush you off, and it drove him up the damn wall—how you’d barrel through his gruff exterior like it was tissue paper. You set the mug on the floor—carefully because you were always careful—and grabbed his sleeve, tugging with a strength that surprised him for someone so soft. "No, you’re coming with me. I’m not letting you bleed all over your apartment when I can help."

"You?" He arched a brow, the bruised one, and regretted it when it pulled at the swelling. "What’re you gonna do, stitch me up?"

"If I have to." Your tone was firm and stubborn, and he hated how it made his chest tighten. "Come on."

He could’ve pulled away. He could’ve shrugged you off with a flick of his arm—vibranium or flesh. It didn’t matter; you were no match for him. He was a goddamn super soldier, a walking weapon, and you were… what? A civilian with a bleeding heart and a brain too sharp for your good. He’d seen you solve crossword puzzles in two minutes flat and heard you ramble about obscure history facts when he’d lingered too long in the laundry room. You weren’t an Avenger, weren’t SHIELD—just a woman who’d wormed her way into his life with cookies and quiet conversations, and now here you were, dragging him toward your apartment like he was some stray you needed to fix.

And he let you. God help him, he let you.

Your place smelled like you—lavender and vanilla and something faintly sweet, like the cookies you’d left outside his door last week with a note that said, "Don’t be a grump; eat something." The lights were warm and soft, nothing like the harsh fluorescents in his sparse apartment. You pushed him toward the couch with a gentle shove, and he dropped the duffel by the door, too tired to argue.

"Sit," you ordered, already darting to the kitchen. "And don’t move."

He sat, legs sprawled, metal arm resting heavily on the cushion. His flesh hand rubbed at the back of his neck, where tension coiled tight. He didn’t belong here—didn’t belong in your orbit, period. You were sunlight, and he was a shadow, all sharp edges and dark corners. The Winter Soldier might’ve been gone, scrubbed clean by Wakanda and time, but the nightmares still clawed at him—flashes of blood screams, faces he couldn’t unsee. He woke up some nights with his vibranium fist clenched so hard it creaked, half-expecting to find a body under him. You didn’t know that. You didn’t know him. And he’d kept it that way, only feeding you scraps—his arm, the war, vague mentions of missions—because the full truth would send you running.

You came back with a damp cloth, a bowl of water, and a first-aid kit that looked like it’d seen better days. "Tilt your head back," you said, kneeling in front of him.

You were too close. Way too close.

"I can do it myself," he grumbled, reaching for the cloth.

You swatted his hand away—actually swatted it like he wasn’t just pounds of muscle and metal who could snap your wrist without blinking. "Stop it. Let me."

He stared at you, jaw tight, blue eyes narrowing under the bruised lid. You stared back, unflinching, and he saw it—the worry etched into your brow, the way your lips pressed together like you were holding back a lecture. He relented, tipping his head back against the couch because fighting you felt like kicking a puppy.

The cloth was cool against his skin, and your touch—God, your touch—was feather-light, dabbing at the blood on his nose with a care that made his throat close up. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, the way your lashes fluttered as you focused, the little furrow between your brows. You were so gentle it hurt, like a bruise he couldn’t shake off.

"You don’t have to do this," he said, quieter than he meant. "I’m not your problem."

"You’re not a problem at all," you shot back, not missing a beat. "You’re my neighbor. And my friend. And you’re hurt, so I’m helping. Deal with it."

Friend. The word lodged in his chest like a bullet. He didn’t have any friends since Steve—not really. Sam, maybe, on a good day. But you? You’d been chipping away at him for months, ever since he’d moved in—leaving him coffee when you caught him coming back from a run, asking about his arm like it was just another part of him, not a relic of his sins. He’d grumbled, dodged, and kept his distance, but you kept coming back, sunny and relentless, until he couldn’t imagine the hallway without you in it.

"Does it hurt?" you asked, brushing the cloth over the swelling around his eye. Your fingers grazed his cheek, and he tensed, every muscle locking up.

"No," he lied. It didn’t hurt—not the way you meant. No, the pain was deeper, a gnawing thing that came from how soft you were, how close you were, how much he wanted to lean into it and couldn’t.

"You’re a terrible liar!" you said, smiling faintly. “You’re all tense. I’m not gonna break you, you know.”

But I could break you, he thought, and the idea made his stomach twist. His strength wasn’t just in the arm—it was in every fiber of him, honed by decades of violence. He could lift you with one hand and crush your bone without trying. He’d done it before, under Hydra’s leash, and the memory of it—of fragile things shattering under his grip… kept him up at night. You didn’t know that. You saw the arm, sure, but you didn’t know its weight or danger.

You rinsed the cloth, pink water swirling in the bowl, and came back to his eye, your breath fanning over his skin. He could feel the heat of you, the steadiness of your hands, and it undid him—slowly, thread by thread. He wanted to pull away, to growl at you to stop, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. Because you were looking at him like he was worth something, and he hadn’t felt that in so long, it scared him.

"Why do you care so much?" he asked, voice rough, almost accusatory. "I’m fine. I’m always fine."

You paused, cloth hovering over his cheek, and your eyes flicked up to his—big, earnest, piercing. "Because you’re not fine, Bucky. Not always. And even if you were, I’d still care. You don’t have to go through everything alone."

His breath hitched, and he hated it—hated how you saw through the cracks he’d patched up with sarcasm and silence. He shifted, flesh hand curling into a fist on his thigh. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Then tell me," you said, soft but insistent. "I mean… you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but… I’m here. You know that, right?"

He didn’t answer. The words were stuck, tangled in the mess of his head. And it seemed as if you knew that because you didn’t push; you just went back to cleaning his face, and the silence stretched thick with everything he wouldn’t say.

When you finished, the blood was gone, the bruising still dark but less angry. You sat back on your heels, studying him like you were checking your work. "There. You look less like you lost a bar fight."

He snorted, a rare sound, and your smile widened—bright, unguarded, like you’d won something. He felt it then, the pull he’d been fighting for months—the way his chest warmed when you looked at him, the way his guard slipped when you laughed. He liked you. More than liked you. And it terrified him.

You stood, gathering the supplies, and he caught your wrist—vibranium fingers light but firm. You froze, eyes darting to his, and he saw the question there, the flicker of surprise.

"You shouldn’t," he said quietly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your brows furrowed. "Shouldn’t what?"

"Like me. Care about me. Whatever this is." He gestured vaguely between you, his metal hand dropping to hide under his jacket. "I’m not… I’m not good for you."

The silence that followed was heavy and thick with unspoken things. You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned forward again, your hand resting lightly on his knee. He could’ve crushed steel with less effort than it took to stay still under that touch.

"James," you said, voice soft but firm, "you don’t get to decide that for me."

He clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking. "You don’t know me. Not really."

"Then tell me." Your eyes searched his, open and unafraid. "Tell me who you are, what you think I can’t handle. Because from where I’m sitting, you’re the guy who’s sat through my terrible movie marathons, who’s fixed my leaky sink without me asking, who’s looked out for me even when you didn’t have to. That’s who I see."

He wanted to argue, to tell you about the bodies he’d left behind, the decades he’d spent as a puppet for killers. But the words wouldn’t come. You were looking at him like he was worth something, and it was unraveling him stitch by stitch.

"You deserve better," he rasped, barely audible. "Someone whole. Someone who’s not… broken."

You shook your head, a small, incredulous laugh escaping you. "James, I don’t want 'better.' I want you. Broken pieces and all."

He stared at you, heart hammering, torn between shoving you away and pulling you closer. Your hand was warm against the cool metal, your gaze unflinching, and he felt the dam break—the walls he’d built crumbling under the weight of you. He wanted to believe it, wanted to let himself have this, but the fear lingered, sharp and insistent.

"You’re too good," he murmured, almost to himself. "Too damn good."

You smiled, small and tentative, and leaned in—just enough that he could feel your breath on his lips. "Maybe you’re just enough."

He didn’t know who moved first—maybe him, maybe you—but suddenly, your lips were on his, soft and warm and tasting faintly of tea. It was slow and hesitant, his flesh hand cupping your cheek like you might shatter if he pressed too hard. The kiss was a question, a confession, and when you sighed against him, he answered—deepening it, letting himself feel you, taste you, for the first time.

The kiss didn’t last as long as he’d liked. He missed you the second you had pulled back to rest your forehead against him. Your fingers brushed his jaw, and he felt the tension bleed out of him, replaced by something softer, something he hadn’t let himself name until now.

"I’m not going anywhere," you whispered.

And for once, he believed it.

[buck-star]

Favorite toy

18+! MINORS DNI! Smut, fingering, squirting, praises, Bucky being hot.

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

IMAGINE being spread out for Bucky to do whatever he pleases. Your legs dangle over his while he leans relaxed with his back against the couch and holds your back tightly against his firm, t-shirt-covered chest.

While Bucky is fully clothed in sweatpants and a shirt, you’re only wearing one of his big hoodies that fits you like a dress.

So, while Bucky enjoys the movie playing on the television, his fingers play with your wet pussy. Tracing up and down your folds, pinching your clit every now and then. His eyes — of course — not really focused on the television but on you, even though he acts all innocent and sweet, like he would love to watch the movie.

When you squirm, he lets go of you, running his hands over your thighs. “Baby doll, we wanna watch that movie, don’t we? Ya squirming so much, can you even focus on it then?”

Idiot! When you settle back into him, he continues his little game until about halfway through the movie. His cock is painfully pressing against his pants and your back, but he’s not satisfied enough to stop playing with you just yet.

A yelp leaves your lips when he suddenly pushes two of his thick fingers into your entrance. He’s holding your legs spread with his, grinning into your neck. His lips trail along your soft skin, leaving soft kisses and bites all over it.

His mouth feels so sweet and tender while his fingers torment your pussy in the best way possible. The filthy, squelching noise mixed with your whimpers and moans fills the room.

“Good girl, such a good girl. Letting me play with you like a good you is supposed to,” he mumbles, his voice low. Bucky curls his fingers deep inside your cunt, groaning when you grab his thighs tightly to ground yourself. “That’s it… there it is. Your sweet spot, huh?”

Your pussy is clenching hard around his fingers, sucking his fingers back in whenever he pulls them out slightly. It earns you a lot of praise from that filthy mouth of your boyfriend.

“Look at my pussy, being so eager. Sucking my fingers in like your filthy mouth does with my cock all the time,” he says with a hoarse voice, his eyes dark and his lips on your neck no longer soft. He’s tugging with his teeth at your skin, leaving dark hickeys on your skin to remind you who you belong to. “Shouldn’t we reward you for being such a sweet and eager girl, shall we?”

Your nod is barely visible when you throw your head back against his shoulder. His fingers kept the steady rhythm. Suddenly you feel the coolness of his metal fingers on your clit, adding more and more pressure before he circles your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your legs shaking, your back arching when the coil in your stomach tightens until it finally snaps. You're squirting all over his hand — just like he had planned when starting to thrust his digits against your sweet spot.

Bucky uses his metal hand to slap your pussy, causing the liquid to squirt in every direction. Your moans turn into cries when he keeps rubbing your overstimulated pussy.

“Good girl, such a good girl. Look at the mess you just made. Your cum is everywhere, baby doll. But I’m sure you can give me one more,” he praises, plunging another finger into you. You whine, shaking your head, but Bucky knows better. He knows you can give him one more. “Love seeing you squirt for me; can’t even decide if I want to look at your pussy or your face, both so mesmerizing, baby doll.”

So, between more prizes and encouragement to come for him to do exactly that. His name leaves your lips over and over again until he needs to feel you around his thick, leaking cock.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @kandis-mom @peachy-satan00 @armystay89 @queen-honeybee-stories @alexxavicry [add yourself]

[navybrat817]

Jawbreaker

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky put a mouthy rookie in his place. Word Count: Over 800 Warnings: Established relationship, mention of injury, misogyny, punching, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes defending you (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I'm dedicating this to @whisperlullaby , who got to read this in advance, because she deserves this man (along with the rest of you). ❤️Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

A small part of Bucky felt bad as he idly wiped his hand with a towel. A very small part.

He didn’t want people to fear him because of his past and he refused to let it define him. That meant that he tried his best to avoid violent tactics unless absolutely necessary.

But today, well, fuck that. The fucker had it coming.

Steve stood in front of him, his blue eyes narrowed as he waited for his best friend to acknowledge him.

Oh, Bucky expected some sort of reprimand, but he was sure Steve would change his tune in a minute or so.

“You gonna ask me what happened, punk, or glare at me until I talk?” He asked, tossing the towel away.

The blonde huffed out a laugh, but he didn’t look amused. “Why did you break that rookie’s jaw?”

Bucky tilted his head. “What’s the phrase? He fucked around and found out.”

You would’ve been proud of him for that reference.

Steve shook his head when Sam burst out laughing a few feet away. “Sam, please,” he begged, though his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “What did the guy do?”

A bitter taste flooded Bucky’s mouth as anger coursed through his veins again. He inhaled as he thought of your sweet smile and soft touch before he exhaled, the storm inside of him calming.

“Buck, you gotta tell us something,” Steve urged, needing some sort of information to try and do some damage control.

The brunette straightened up to look his friend in the eyes, wanting him to see the fury beneath the cold mask. “He told my girl to throw an apron on and get back in the kitchen when she went to spar.”

You, one of the most capable agents Bucky had ever known.

You, who had shown nothing but kindness to everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it.

The person Bucky was lucky enough to call his other half. His better half.

And some asshole rookie had the gall to treat you as if you didn’t belong there with the rest of them.

Sam was no longer laughing. Steve’s jaw clenched in understanding.

Bucky swallowed, that fury threatening to surface again as he remembered the hurt that filled your eyes at the comment. “You know I’d support anything she wants to do, whether that’s working or staying at home. It doesn’t give some prick the right to make her feel bad for her decision.”

“You know I don’t like bullies, but breaking his jaw?” Steve questioned. The guy deserved it, but did the punishment actually fit the crime?

“When she walked away, he said to come back when she was ready to see what a real man could do for her,” he said, the words coming out like a snarl.

The way you tensed up, fear and disgust flickering on your face, he didn’t think. A switch inside of him went off and he swung.

The fucker was lucky that all he got was a broken jaw. He could’ve done so much worse.

And it wasn’t that you couldn’t defend yourself because you could, but you shouldn’t have to put up with garbage like that.

A cracking sound echoed in the room before he realized he crushed the armrest of his seat. “Fuck. I’ll pay for that,” he mumbled, kicking a bit of the broken piece with his boot. “Can you just tell me how much trouble I’m in so I can get back to my girl?”

He didn’t care if he they suspended or even fired him as long as he got back to you.

The room stayed silent before Sam mused, “Technically, what the rookie did counts as harassment.”

Steve nodded. “And I’m sure Nat can persuade him not to sue for the injury he received,” he added, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ll take care of it, Buck. Just. No more breaking jaws, okay?”

“When it comes to my girl, I make no promises,” Bucky smiled, his heart racing at the thought of you. “And maybe he’ll think twice before he opens his mouth again.”

“The damage you did, I don’t think he can open his mouth at all,” Sam mumbled.

Bucky’s phone went off before he could comment, his heart swelling as he read your text. He had to bite back a groan, too.

“Thank you again, Jawbreaker. I love you and I’ll be on my knees waiting for you.”

You wanted to thank him not just with words, but with your body and heart. It all belonged to him, like he belonged to you.

And he didn’t need to tell Steve and Sam what the message said since it was just for the two of you. “Love you, too, baby. Nothing to thank me for, but I’m on my way. Be ready.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Maybe we'll see how you "thank" Bucky down the road. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[blythesarchives]

Beefy Bucky & Creampies uhhh 18+ MDNI

It has to specifically be Beefy Bucky um because I said so.

Bucky would eat your well fucked pussy after he came inside you I know it.

Dude loves a good creampie.

His fat cock drilling into you and so sweetly kissing your cervix with each intense thrust, hot precum weeping out of his cockhead and soothing the swollen flesh and coating your inner walls until he fucking just cums and fills you up with his seed.

There's literally so much of it, it oozes out of you as he slowly drags himself back, watching the white cream just...coat your cunt. His mouth waters, seeing your pretty petals so slick and glistening with your own cum and his. He just can't help himself.

Bucky grabbing your legs and holding them open while his tongue continues to lap and twirl between your folds as he listens to that pretty little symphony coming out of your lips.

And his mouth wraps around that pretty pearl of yours and he just nurses on it while you feel the hot, tingling erupt through your body. You feel it in your toes, they curl as you fist the sheets and beg him for more.

Tug his hair and feel his arms, look at those pretty eyes as he glances up at you. Oh my god. Watch him rut himself into the fucking bed because he's ready for round two. Three. Four.

He laps and licks, his fucking face is buried in you. The scruff gently tickling your inner thighs and scratching your folds. He doesn't want to let up, drinking your essence and inhaling your scent, memorizing it. He's so drunk off your pussy, he doesn't want to let you go, ever.

Your taste and his own together was like a drug.

The groans this man makes is enough to make you cum again, or at least send those shivers through your delicate bud, begging to be sucked again.

Bucky doesn't give a shit if he tastes himself on you, he sucks himself out of you just to push it all back in and listen to you mewl at the sensation, or he pulls back and slams his lips against yours, sharing himself on your tongue.

Um yeah. I guess this is kinda cum play too?

Just a thought lol byeee <3

[buckysslut]

𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

“Honey..” He whispers, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face and trying not to get hard. You were on his thigh, completely nude after having stripped off your silk robe. He was dressed in his tactical gear, trying to get ready for the mission he’d offered to help on. They didn’t need him, per se, but he wanted to help out. He was on the phone, arranging some final details and confirming. You, however, were not happy about his offer to help where he wasn’t needed and were absolutely desperate for his cock. He had the phone held to his ear, trying to remain quiet. You were wet, pussy gliding along the fabric of his tactical pants. He tried to focus on the voice through the phone but it was pretty damn hard.

Your hands were on his chest, letting out soft and breathy moans as you slid back and forth on his thigh. You grind your hips down, letting out a breathless whine. He gives you a small glare, trying to get you to be quieter. Though his final straw is when you slide your pussy up to rub over his crotch, grinding down as you stare him deep in the eyes. His restraint snaps, quickly murmuring something about an ‘urgent personal matter’ before hanging up and tossing his phone. You snicker before you’re cut off by him smacking his lips to yours. You hum as you melt into it, biting his lower lip. He stands up, holding you up by your thighs.

“You are in for it tonight.”

Tags: @chrisevansleftnipple , @homiesexual-or-homosexual , @httpsells , @avengemepercy , @raikan624 , @multiversefanfics , @majulians-groupie ' @maryevm , @grilledcheesewithjalapeno , @yaboyguzma69

[em1i2a3]

My Desire

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Avengers!Fem!Reader(Ex-HYDRA)

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI!, Mentions of Past Violence/Blood, Mentions of Stabbing (the reader has a scar from an incident involving Bucky/The Winter Soldier), Swearing, PTSD, Bucky kind of goes through some guilt in this, Enemies to Lovers, Fake Relationship Trope, BDSM Club Mission, Unintended Voyeurism, Mentions/References to Exhibitionism, Smut; fingering, oral sex (fem! Receiving), spitting, some nipple play, handjob, a bit of a praise kink if you squint, a little bit of a pain kink if you squint, P in V sex (unprotected, you know the drill though…Wrap it before going heels to Jesus), Shower Sex . Beefy Bucky is the current squeeeeeeeze if y’all know what I mean.

Author's Note: Wheew, I decided to take the trope of Enemies to Lovers and Fake Relationships to the next level. Ah, I love tropes, especially when you can throw everything and the kitchen sink at it. I did change some contextual stuff up a little bit just to suit the needs of the story. Hope y’all enjoy :) Sorry it took so long to get a new piece out btw, I’ve been studying for a licensing thing and that’s been literally consuming my time!

Word Count: 23,866

Next Part: Girls Like You

The air in the debriefing room was thick and suffocating when you walked in that morning. The night before you had received an urgent call from Maria Hill asking if you could attend a meeting for the next day, you were caught off guard by the request, but you were also curious as to what she was going to assign you, so you had taken the opportunity and agreed.

Maria stood at the front of the room, face flat, unreadable. You could sense there was someone else in the room, noticing one of the chairs was turned away from you, but out of the corner of your eye you could see the slight shine of the all-too-familiar metal arm, only now it was black, shiny, a new model. Your stomach dropped almost in an instant, a deep-seated regret immediately hitting you in the face. The chair turned, and you were met with the cold, desolate blue eyes, and scowl that you had seen on CCTV and up close. He was the shell of someone you once thought you knew.

Bucky Barnes.

He leaned back in his seat with his broad arms crossed over his chest, looking almost as irritated as you. He looked like he had gained a lot more muscle since the last time you saw him, and it was evident just by the way his biceps strained against the fabric of his t-shirt, and how he shifted uncomfortably in the chair he was in, his thighs spreading slightly to try and find a position he felt good in. He had trimmed his hair, it was not instantly noticeable, but when you replayed your last interaction in your head daily, it was easy to recognize the changes he physically made to himself.

“Just the person I wanted to see at 8 am.” He muttered, the words edging with sarcasm, casting a pointed look at Maria. You let out a slow, exaggerated exhale.

”Can’t believe you’re still fucking breathing.” You commented, watching him glance over his shoulder, tilting his head.

”Disappointed?” He asked mockingly.

”Absolutely devastated.” Bucky huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

”Yeah, guess we can’t all get what we want.” Your fingers twitched at your sides.

”Oh, I don’t know,” You mused, “Last time I checked, you got exactly what you wanted. A knife through my fucking chest, if I’m remembering correctly of course.” He groaned.

”Can’t believe you’re still going on about that. It’s been two years, sweetheart. Get over it.” You could feel your blood curdling beneath your skin, as you balled your hands into tight fists.

”Get over it? I was hospitalized for almost seven months.” He spun around on his chair to face you, one eyebrow raised.

”And? You’re still here are you not? You scoffed at him.

“Yeah, walking proof that you failed your fucking mission.” `He rolled his eyes.

”Not like I didn’t try to finish the job, remember?” Your jaw clenched at his comment, a phantom pain itching in the middle of your chest, radiating down to the center of your sternum, the exact spot his knife had pierced through, where he had twisted.

“Oh, I remember. Evidently, you do too. You must get off to it.” You spat back, watching as Bucky’s smirk vanished from his face. You could’ve sworn you heard the metal of his hand squeaking when he balled it up in a fist. You should’ve stopped there, but you couldn’t let this one go.

”You must really love replaying it,” You sneered, “The way I was pinned under you, screaming at you to let me go, the begging, and the way you took such fucking pleasure in driving that knife in slow-.” Bucky moved so fast you barely saw it coming. He was in your space in a split second, towering over you, his eyes burning holes through yours.

”You going to keep talking?” His voice was low and threatening, his eyes studying you, looking at the way you didn’t back down and recoil. He could see the fire in your eyes, the rage shaking behind them.

“Oh? Did I hit a nerve?” You said, feigning shock, poking the bear even more, watching his jaw clench.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.” He growled, stepping closer, his hot breath now fanning over your face, once again you didn’t move back.

“You may have everyone else fooled with your ‘I was brainwashed by HYDRA, I had no control’ schtick, but you and I both know that’s just bullshit.” Bucky’s metal hand immediately launched out at you, grabbing onto the collar of your shirt, yet you remained still, your breath hitching in your throat. Maria jumped into action quickly, making her way over to the scene.

“HEY!” She yelled, putting herself between the both of you, one hand pressing against Bucky’s chest, while the other pushed against your shoulder, attempting to separate the impending fight before it started. Neither of you broke eye contact, as Maria continued to try to make additional space, “Let go of her Bucky.” She commanded, he didn’t flinch, his grip only tightened more, his ice-cold gaze staring at you.

“You want to start something?” Maria added, “Because I promise you, you will not like how it fucking ends. Now let. Go.” She demanded through clenched teeth. There is a beat of silence that comes up between the three of you, as he slowly unclenches his hand, releasing your shirt from his grasp. You shake yourself out a bit, adjusting your top which had now been stretched from how hard he pulled you, the neckline now hanging loosely on your chest. Maria spun around on her heel, looking at you.

“Do you have a fucking death wish?” She snapped.

“You’re the one that brought him here, what did you expect me to do? Give him a warm welcome?” She let out a frustrated sigh.

“No. I expect you to act like a professional.” She replied, taking a step closer, “But instead you’re playing chicken with someone who can snap your neck like a twig if he wanted to.” You felt your jaw clench at her words, seething at the tone she was taking.

“And what about him?! He’s the one that got physical first.” She shook her head.

“Yeah because you baited him for a reaction.” She shot back, “We have invested a lot of time and effort undoing what HYDRA did to him. But you can’t be surprised when he has a very human reaction when reminded of the things he’s done in the past.” You could practically feel your blood boiling at this point, hearing the condescending tone she was taking.

“Sure. Let’s just keep making excuses for poor little Bucky who’s trying to figure out how to be a person again.” He stiffened at your words, it wasn’t obvious, but you could see the slight shift.

“Well. At least HYDRA made me useful for something. What’s your excuse?” The second the words left his mouth you saw red.

“Okay. That’s enough!” Maria yelled before you could say anything back, before you could retaliate. Bucky watched you carefully, knowing he won that round. Maria dragged a hand down her face, already exhausted from this encounter, realizing it was only going to get worse once she gave a debrief on the mission she needed to assign them.

“Can we all just please…Sit the fuck down now so we can get on with this meeting?” She asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. You squinted at Bucky, seeing a smirk come up on his face, as he turned around and returned to his seat, the chair creaking under his weight. You huffed, biting into your cheek while you walked to the other side of the conference table, taking a seat opposite of him, avoiding his eyes which were now watching you.

“Alright…” Maria sighed, grabbing two manilla folders from the front cart near the television, sliding one toward you, and the other toward Bucky. You flipped open the file without hesitation, scanning the contents inside, glancing across from you to see that Bucky mirrored your actions, though you could sense he was not paying attention fully.

Timothy Orkolov was the target's name, aged 48, nationality Russian, known aliases; ‘Red Fang’. A high-resolution CCTV image of him was stapled to the corner of the first page. He was midstride, dressed in a long, navy blue, double-breasted overcoat, and black dress pants, with sunglasses pushed against his face, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His salt and pepper beard was trimmed with precision, and his dark brown hair was slicked back and shiny. He looked like a businessman, that was for sure.

"Orkolov has been on our radar for over two years," Maria began, tapping her fingers against the table, her gaze flickering from you to Bucky, "He isn’t just an arms dealer, he’s a facilitator. A broker of power. He’s connected to corrupt officials, private militias, and underground trade networks spanning across Europe. He doesn’t just sell weapons, he sells wars." You glance up at Bucky, watching his jaw tighten slightly at Maria's brief description.

“Great…So he’s a criminal. Why haven’t you guys sent out agents from your team, why do you need us?” You ask, pushing the file away and sitting back in your chair.

“Because we have already sent in our regular agents. Three times actually. They all ended up dead. Does that answer your question?” You glance over at Bucky, who is still flipping through the file, ignoring the conversation.

“So instead of sending one of your own, you decided it was a good idea to throw us at the problem instead? What are we? Expendables?”You questioned, Maria tapped her fingers against the table, feeling an argument beginning.

“No. You’re necessary. We were able to get both of you on his guest list at his club ‘The Velvet Fang’. That’s one step further than the other times we’ve attempted to get someone in.” There is a hint of familiarity that flashes in Bucky’s eyes, as he pushes the file away as well, you can see behind his stoic expression that the cogs in his head are turning.

“Did you use our real names?” He asked, his voice stern, almost like he knew the answer already.

“Yes…Yes, we gave them your real names.” Maria responded quietly, knowing that she had made a mistake. Bucky scoffs.

“No wonder we got on the list…” He ran his hand over his face, glancing over at you, seeing the confusion in your eyes.

“We needed to establish credibility,” Maria said, her voice choking up, a little on edge, not knowing what Bucky was going to do next.

“You needed credibility,” He repeated, the sharp tone of rage boiling beneath his words, “So you decided to hand our names to him on a silver platter? How could you think that was a good idea?” He questioned.

“We had no other ch-”

“Don’t bullshit me, Maria!” He snapped, turning his anger towards you now, “And how could you not be freaking out about this?!” You looked at him now, shrugging.

“Hey, it’s not a life-or-death situation for me. Unlike you, my name isn’t attached to war crimes, assassinations, and a century-long kill list.” He breathed in slowly, trying to compose himself, attempting to lower his anger.

“Just because you couldn’t stomach your orders and defected from HYDRA doesn’t mean anything. How do you think I tracked you down?” He shot back.

“That has no connection to this. Orkolov wouldn’t want anything to do with me because I’m not a fucking animal, an ex-HYDRA member with no hits is not a hot commodity for people like him.” Bucky sat back, his hands rubbing along his pants.

“Being a passive participant doesn’t stop an arms dealer from using you. It’ll be very easy to get you back into your old programming.” Maria looked over at you, watching as you dug your nails into your palm, your jaw clenching at his words.

“There is no old programming to go back to,” You bit out, “I never completed their training and I didn’t get the chair to try to erase who I was either, so you can stop fucking speaking.” You snapped.

“Okay guys, please…Before I start bleeding out of my ears, can we just get this meeting done?” Maria begged, with exhaustion lacing her voice, digging her fingers into her temples, massaging them slowly, “There’s one more thing I need to tell you.” You leaned on the table, letting out a humourless laugh.

“How much worse could it possibly get? Please. Enlighten us.” Bucky looked over at you out of the corner of his eye, then brought his gaze back to Maria’s, watching her shift nervously.

“You guys are going as a couple.” Silence. Dead, thick, suffocating silence. That’s all that hung in the room for the next couple of minutes. “It’s all in the file.” She added, looking down at her hands. The both of you immediately pulled your folders back to each other and flipped to the very last page, seeing the complete narrative that was devised for the both of you. Former HYDRA operatives. Defected together. Fell off the radar together. And now, resurfacing together.

“So that’s why you couldn’t send me with anyone else but him? You’re using our past as your little fucking token?” You questioned.

“I used it as an in. Orkolov doesn’t deal with outsiders. He doesn’t trust new faces. But a couple; one with a history, one with shared scars, one that understands the same darkness he does—that’s a story he’ll believe.” Bucky let out a sharp breath, the kind that sounded like he was seconds away from either punching a hole through the table or walking out of the room entirely. His jaw was tight, his fingers curling into a fist on his knee before he got up to start pacing.

“Your timelines together added up just right for this plan to even work, we couldn’t risk missing the opportunity.” She continued, as Bucky let out a laugh, shaking his head while he paced back and forth with his hands on his hips and his eyes locked onto the floor.

“Our timelines added up?” You repeated, incredulously, pushing the open file away from you once again, “You mean the years I spent trying to escape HYDRA? The fucking manhunt that followed me? The fact that he spent months trying to track me down and brought me to the edge of my fucking life?” You pointed at Bucky, who stopped pacing at the mention of the past, his body coiled tight, “That was just a nice little convenience for your little story huh?” Maria exhaled slowly.

”I know this is a lot-.”

“No,” Bucky cut her off, “A lot is being sent into a hostile situation. A lot is having our real names handed over to a man who probably wants us to reinstate our old HYDRA roles again.” He motioned between you and himself, his glare was all-encompassing, fury-filled, “But this? This is fucking insanity.” Maria nodded.

“I understand it is, and I’m sorry I didn’t run it by the both of you, but we are in a tight time crunch that you don’t seem to be seeing. A war is brewing, and we need intel to save lives, Bucky. You of all people should know what war does to someone.” The words came out of her without time to process what she was just about to say. You could see Bucky’s body go rigid, his breathing slowing down as if he were trying to calm himself. Maria had just thrown gasoline onto a blazing fire, and she knew it right away. You looked over at her, hoping, and waiting for her to backpedal, to apologize, but she held firm, staring at Bucky.

“You don’t get to use that against me.” Maria held his gaze.

“I won’t do it again…I just needed you to understand the direness of the situation.” He reached for the chair he had been sitting in, gripping the top of it, glancing over at you, trying to gauge what you were thinking, but at this point, you were unreadable, you were spaced out, looking at the table. You already realized there was no choice, and Maria wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

---—————-

“So let me get this straight. You and Bucky, the guy who literally almost gutted you like a fish, are going to fly to Vienna, so that you can attend a party and meet a guy who will probably end up either killing the both of you or recruiting you into his little ring of friends?” Natasha asked, her voice edging with something between amusement and disbelief. She lay sprawled out across your bed, watching you rummage through your closet, throwing shirts, jackets, and pants onto the ground as you attempted to find something that would make you blend into The Velvet Fang.

“That about sums it up.” You muttered, tossing another article of clothing to the side. Natasha let out a low whistle, flipping onto her stomach so she could rest her chin on her palm, a smirk plastered on her face. You looked over your shoulder, seeing her ice-blue eyes studying you.

“So…When’s the wedding?” She asked jokingly, trying to lighten the conversation. You rolled your eyes, stepping over the pile of clothes that surrounded you, and throwing yourself down on the bed with a loud thump.

“Please I am in no mood for your jokes.” You groaned, opening your eyes to stare up at the ceiling, your hands lying flat on your stomach. Natasha hummed.

“No jokes? Damn…This must really be killing you.” You shook your head.

“If it was anyone else I would be completely fine with it, but I can see he’s still unstable. You saw me when I defected from HYDRA, I was an absolute mess, it took me months to undo what they did, and I was only there for a year tops. Bucky had been their fucking plaything for decades, there’s no possible way he’s somehow reformed and completely fine.” You explained.

“So you’re scared he’s gonna snap and try and kill you again?” She asked softly, letting the question linger in the air, watching the way you shifted uncomfortably against the mattress.

“I’m not scared of him.” She arched her brow.

“Let’s not try to deflect the real question I just asked you Y/N.” You broke eye contact with her, not wanting to stare at her observant gaze. She knew you too well. She already had her answers. She just wanted to hear it from you.

“It’s not about him trying to kill me, Nat. We are coming face to face with someone who knows about our past with HYDRA. Who knows how long he has had to try and plan something against us. He knows we’re coming, we are on his list. What happens if Orkolov pushes the wrong buttons, and Bucky just loses it? Who do you think he’ll take out first? Hmm?” You asked, feeling the mattress shift, noticing Natasha getting up and walking over to the pile of clothes, shuffling through it to see if she could find something for you herself.

“If he wanted to, if he still had it in him…He would’ve done it when he saw you this morning. Even after you pushed his buttons he didn’t try to put in the kill shot. If it was Winter Soldier Bucky…You would’ve been a bloodstain on that conference room floor.” Natasha’s words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. You swallowed hard, shifting on the bed, your fingers idly tracing the seam of your sleeve. You wanted to argue, to push back against her calm logic, but you couldn’t. Because deep down, you knew she was right. You sat up on your elbows, looking over at her pulling out a short black dress from the pile that you had overlooked, holding it up to herself for a brief moment before tossing it at you.

“This’ll work.” You eyed it skeptically.

“That thing barely has enough fabric to cover my ass…” She smirked.

“I’m pretty sure people at The Velvet Fang will appreciate it.” You ran your hand over the silky material, a defeated sigh escaping your throat.

“I can’t believe I’m putting myself out on display like this.” You muttered, lying down on the mattress again, a wave of nausea pouring up your stomach.

“You’re not. You’re just going to be a little bit of eye candy. Nobody is going to be hitting on you, especially if you’re with Bucky.” She pointed out. Her words were meant to be reassuring but they only made your stomach churn even more.

“Great…So now instead of kicking him out a window, I need to hide behind him to ignore any advances.” Natasha laughed, crossing her arms as she leaned against your dresser.

“I wish I could be there to see you play the doting little girlfriend, all wrapped up in her dangerous bad boy boyfriend. You’re gonna have to play nice.” You closed your eyes tightly.

“I’m going to throw myself out of the fucking plane while we’re in the air…That’s the only way I could get out of this.”

“C’mon. Now you’re just being dramatic. You should be taking this as an opportunity to let loose a little bit.” You groaned.

“If letting loose is code for committing manslaughter, I will happily let loose.” Natasha sighed.

“No manslaughter. Just try and have fun. You need to be convincing, if you’re looking miserable with someone who you’re supposed to love, Orkolov will immediately know. You’ll have to practice at least a bit so you two can loosen up and look natural.”

--—————————

Natasha’s words were running through your head the entire time you sat across from Bucky in the jet. The cabin was quiet, apart from the low hum of the engines and the occasional crackle of the intercom. You sat stiffly in your seat, looking at the glass of water on the table in front of you, watching the way it vibrated gently. You could hear him picking at the stitches of the leather seat, trying to distract himself, not wanting to say anything to you, but you could feel his presence, like an itch beneath your skin.

Without Maria, the both of you made an unspoken agreement to avoid having a conversation altogether. But now, halfway into the flight, the silence was starting to wear on you. You had avoided his eyes for the entire time, but when you leaned forward to reach for the glass you had been staring at you could hear the noise of his picking halt and his breath hitch. You looked up at him, seeing the way his jaw was clenched, and how he wasn’t staring at your face, but lower.

“What? What did I-” You looked down at yourself and paused, realizing that in the moment you had moved forward you loose zip up sweater did as well, exposing the top of his handy work. The top part was jagged, where he had twisted and applied pressure, almost like he wanted to break your chest open. You swallowed loudly, remembering the taste of blood that flooded your mouth in those moments before quickly straightening the fabric, bringing the zipper up all the way to your neck. The silence between the both of you stretched with fragility, you were expecting him to look away, but he couldn’t. He cleared his throat, and when he finally spoke he was quieter, his tone almost hollow.

”I didn’t…I didn’t realize it looked like that.” His words were uneven, shaky, and it made you pause. He wasn’t just shocked, he was horrified. You could see the way his fingers twitched, the way they dug into the fabric of his pants like he was trying to ground himself. It felt like someone had split his ribcage open and had begun to squeeze his lungs, wringing out all the air.

”Well…I don’t really go out showing it off to people.” You muttered, bringing your feet up to rest on the seat, so your knees were against your chest.

“I don’t remember…” He exhaled sharply, dragging his dark metal fingers through his hair, shaking his head, “I can’t remember doing it…” You hugged your knees closer to your chest, the weight of his words settling between you like a stone at the bottom of a lake. Bucky shook his head again as if he was trying to jog his memory so that he could rearrange the gaps.

”I remember tracking you.” You looked up at him, noticing the hint of frustration that glimmered in the dim lighting of the cabin. “I remember the order. I remember the fight, the way you used everything in your power to get me. You were…Trying to reach for your gun or a pager…Something, I don’t know.” You could feel your throat tighten, as you leaned forward to grab the glass of water, trying to wash down the lump that was forming, “Then I slammed you on the floor…But the moment it happened…It’s blank like someone ripped it out of my head. It’s a black hole.” You traced the rim of the glass. You didn’t know what was worse, the fact that he had done it or the fact that they wiped it from his memory.

“Lucky you I guess.” You whispered under your breath, taking another swig of water, feeling it cool your chest. His eyes narrowed.

”Can’t believe you would say something like that.” His voice was quiet.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You replied, settling the glass down on the table with a little more force than necessary, “You don’t carry it the way I have to.”

“I may not remember what I did to you, but do you really think I don’t wake up every fucking day knowing that there are pieces of me…Of the things that I’ve done…That I can’t even remember or be sorry for? I’d rather remember all of it than have these fucking gaps, where I have no idea who I was, what I did, or who I hurt.” His words sat on your chest. There was a part of you that wanted to lash out at him, to shove all the pain back at him with full force, to remind him that no matter how much he suffered you would never forgive him for what he did, that was just the honest truth. But then there was something under the surface, the haunting look in his eyes, the way he seemed like he wanted to crawl into himself and die…It tugged at the person you once were. That person would’ve seen the man in front of them for what he was now, not for what he had been then, but she was buried beneath the layers of anger, beneath everything HYDRA had done to you both. You ran a hand down your face.

”Look…Bucky.” He lifted his head slightly at you, brows knitting together, “I don’t know what you want me to say. That it’s fine? That I don’t think about it? I can’t lie to you about that.” He swallowed hard, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table, his hands clasping together.

”All I want is for you to know…That I’d take it back if I could, and that…I’m sorry.” The sincerity in his voice unsettled you. It was easier when he was cold, when he was just the Winter Soldier and not the man left in the aftermath. You wanted to hold onto your anger, to clutch it tight like it was your armour, but it was slipping through your fingers like sand. You exhaled slowly, staring down at your hands.

”I know…”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” He said, voice low, “I don’t even know if I’d want you to.” You looked at him, the both of you holding each other’s eyes.

”I don’t know if I can…But I know you mean it.” Bucky held your gaze for a moment longer, like he was searching for something in your face, something you weren’t sure you could give him. Then he nodded, a small, barely-there movement, and looked down at the table between you. You sighed, shifting in your seat.

”We still need to come up with a story that we are going to tell Orkolov if he asks us about our past.” Bucky rubbed the sweat off his palm.

”Yeah…Forgot about that.” He sat back in his seat, tilting his head against the headrest, eyes flicking toward the light above the both of you, “So, where do we start?” You shoved your hands into your sweater pocket.

”We can’t make it too perfect. If it’s too clean, he will know we rehearsed it, and that we’re lying.” He nodded, rolling his shoulders.

”Alright. So, we need just enough truth to give it that believability.” You nodded. He drummed his fingers against his knee.

”We start with HYDRA. Orkolov knows that we both left the place. I don’t know if he knows how much involvement you had in the place but we can keep it vague.”

”We can say I was assigned to intelligence. Data collection, infiltration? Something that didn’t leave much of a paper trail.” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “That’ll also explain why my name doesn’t come up as often as yours, and I won’t have to explain why I really left.” Bucky hummed in agreement, rubbing his jaw as he thought it over.

”That works. They trained you but it was separate from the rest of us. They won’t suspect anything.” You gulped, pushing away the memories before they had a chance to settle into you.

”So how did we end up meeting then?” You questioned.

”When you defected, they sent me after you.” He responded simply, “It’ll explain the scar, and the reason why you’re not dead.” You shifted in your seat.

”Right…Because you hesitated.” A lie, but it was believable. Bucky nodded once.

”Something about you made me stop. I didn’t understand why, and I let you go.” You inhaled deeply.

”And HYDRA dragged you back in and wiped you again, tried to erase whatever it was that made you hesitate to finish the job.” He looked at you.

”But it didn’t stick, and then I found you again.” You swallowed, slowly nodding, glancing down at your hands as you traced the storyline in your mind, fitting the pieces together intricately, patching up whatever holes would be in the story.

”How?” Bucky shrugged.

”I don’t know, maybe I just started remembering things I wasn’t supposed to. Then I knew I needed to find you.” You took a steady breath.

”So you found me…And we made a pact to stick together, then somewhere along the way we got close. We had no one else, relied on each other, and just…Fell into it.” This was all just a cover, a fabrication designed to protect you both. But as you studied Bucky’s face, the way his fingers twitched slightly on the table, the way his throat bobbed with an unspoken thought, you realized just how convincing it sounded, even to yourselves. He cleared his throat, letting out a small cough.

”Yeah, I think that story is easy to sell.” You ran through it together once again, ironing out the little details, and making sure there were no weaknesses. Once you were finished there was only an hour left before you landed in Vienna, and thankfully things had cooled down a bit.

”Alright. So we stick to that story, no hesitations, no second guessing.” He nodded, his fingers tapping against the table.

”And what about the physical stuff?” He asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. You looked at him, noticing the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers drummed against the table like he was trying to find a rhythm to keep himself grounded. He didn’t like the idea any more than you did, but you both knew it was necessary.

”It has to look and be natural.” You responded, “If we’re stiff or uncomfortable Orkolov will immediately see it. We don’t have to overdo it, but we can’t act like we are business partners either.” You added, taking another sip of your water.

”So, what’s the expectation here? Hand on your back? Arm around your waist? Holding hands? K-Kissing?” He stuttered on the last word, covering it up with a forced cough, his eyes flicking away from you. You could feel the nausea building in your stomach again, as you gulped down the rest of the water, trying to buy yourself time to cool yourself down.

“Touching needs to look natural, with no flinching or discomfort. We can’t force it. We take the opportunities when it feels like the right time.” You paused momentarily, “And kissing will happen only if necessary.” You clarified.

“Right,” He muttered, “Only if necessary.” You shifted again, absentmindedly scratching at the scar on your chest.

”If we don’t think about it so much, we will be fine.” Bucky nodded, but the tension in his posture didn’t ease. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shifting in his seat before looking at you again.

“Maybe we should practice.” He suggested, his voice low. Your eyebrows raised at him, and he realized what he had said, “Not…not everything, obviously, it’s just to get used to it. If we go in cold, it’ll be obvious we don’t know how to act around each other.” You hated that he had a point, it would be obvious if the both of you were looking like you were being held at gunpoint by one another every time you touched, practice was a necessary evil unfortunately.

“Alright. What do you want to start with?” Bucky hesitated.

”Hand holding would be good I guess.” He exhaled, wiping his sweaty palm on his pants before bringing his right hand onto the table, facing it palm up. You shook your head.

”What?” He asked, looking at his hand, then back at you.

“I want the metal one.” He looked down at it.

“It’s vibranium.” He corrected quietly. You rolled your eyes.

”Okay. I want the vibranium one. Better?” He sighed, lifting his left hand up and placing it on the table between you. The dark material shined beneath the light, the small slivers of gold contrasting against the harsh black that lined the entire appendage. You reached out, wrapping your fingers around his. You expected the cool metal against your skin but got something different.

”Do you have a heater in this thing or something? Why is it so warm?” You asked, earning a small laugh from him, your thumb running over the palm of his hand, watching the slivers of gold pulsing when he moved his fingers slightly.

”I had it under my thigh when we were going over our little cover-up story.” He admitted. You raised a brow at him, your lips twitching upward.

”So what? You were preheating it for me?” He shook his head.

”Didn’t expect you to ask for the vibranium hand, so I guess it was just luck.” You hummed at his comment, trailing your fingers up his forearm, feeling the smooth, almost seamless transition between the plates. It was strange how human it felt, despite what it was.

“Can I ask what happened to the other one?” You could feel his fingertips twitch against your skin at the question, and for a moment he didn’t say anything, then he looked up at you.

“Stark blew it off…Back at a HYDRA facility in Siberia.” He responded, his voice flat, unaffected. You were surprised by this anecdote, and you were even more caught off guard that Steve never told you this, not that you ever asked about Bucky, he knew that subject was off limits.

“I didn’t know that.” He nodded.

“Yeah…I did attack him technically so it wasn’t unprovoked.” He admitted, breaking eye contact, “I’m pretty sure it also happened when you were in the hospital so that’s why you weren’t privy to what was going on.” You hadn’t considered that before, how much had happened in the world while you were recovering, piecing yourself back together in a sterile hospital room, drowning in silence while everything kept moving without you. He watched your fingers tracing the small patterns on his arm until you reached his hand again, hesitating for a moment before you laced your fingers between his. Neither of you spoke, you just sat, watching the way your hands fit together, squeezing slightly when adjusting your grips. His fingers closed around yours with a surprising amount of gentleness.

“This is…A little weird.” Bucky admitted.

“Yeah, no kidding.” Neither of you let go, though.

“You don’t have to keep holding it if it makes you uncomfortable.” He muttered, his eyes flickering up to yours.

“It’s not uncomfortable.” You responded, shaking your head. He went to say something, but before he could the pilot got on the intercom.

“We’re approaching Vienna,” The pilot announced, causing the both of you to look up, “Please fasten your seatbelts.” You looked back at him, and with slight reluctance, let his hand go. As the jet began its descent, the hum of the engines shifted, and the subtle change in angle caused your stomach to drop. You adjusted your seatbelt tightly against your stomach, glancing over at Bucky, who was relaxing in his spot, looking totally unbothered.

“Are you always this relaxed when the plane is landing?” You asked, a wave of nausea bubbling in your stomach as you adjusted your grip on the armrest.

“Yeah pretty much. Been on enough planes to know when to start panicking.” A groan escaped your throat, trying to ease the sickness.

“That’s really not helping right now.” Bucky smirked, adjusting himself in his seat.

“What? You want me to lie to you? Tell you we’re perfectly safe?” He mocked, as you groaned again at the turbulence.

“Yes,” You gritted your teeth, “A lie would be great.”

“Alright, alright.” He said, leaning forward slightly, “This is the smoothest landing I’ve ever been on. There’s nothing to worry about. The pilot is probably doing this with his eyes closed.” He whispered, holding back his laughter. You squinted at him.

“That didn’t help either.” You said, squeezing the armrest again. He sighed, reaching his vibranium hand out, and tapping his fingers against the table to get your attention.

“Instead of taking your anger out on the leather…And for practice, since I can tell you’re uncomfortable and a boyfriend would offer some form of comfort.” You let out a small laugh, “And considering you looked less miserable when you were holding it earlier…Thought it would be worth a shot.” Once again the jet moved and your stomach lurched.

“Okay okay!” You exclaimed, grabbing onto his hand, feeling his fingers wrap around yours instantly.

“Are you going to be sick?” You shook your head, closing your eyes tightly. Bucky’s grip was firm but not constricting, the warmth from his vibranium fingers grounding you as you exhaled through your nose.

"Are you sure?" He asked again, quieter this time. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, the small motion doing more to settle you than anything else had so far.

"Yeah, just-" You inhaled sharply as the wheels made contact with the runway, the force of the landing pressing you back against your seat. You squeezed his hand a little harder than you probably needed to, but he didn’t say anything, he just let you hold on as long as you needed to.

When the plane finally came to a halt, the pressure in your stomach eased. You opened your eyes, releasing a slow breath before blinking up at him, seeing his eyebrows were raised.

“You good now?” He asked, his thumb still absentmindedly brushing against your knuckles.

”Mhm…” You exhaled, loosening your grip from his, though you hesitated before fully letting go, “I think I can walk out of this thing without embarrassing myself too much.” He retracted his hand, unbuckling his seatbelt.

”Would’ve been great if you puked all over the runway though.” You shot him a glare.

”Real supportive there Bucky.” You replied, unbuckling your seatbelt as well, standing up from your spot.

”Hey, I held your hand.” He shrugged, a small laugh escaping his mouth.

”I’m going to put that on your fake boyfriend record…Decent under pressure, but D minus for aftercare.” He smirked.

”Duly noted, I’ll be sure to add something to your fake girlfriend record too.” You rolled your eyes, grabbing your duffle bag from under your seat, throwing it over your shoulder.

“Hey hey. No. Hand me the bag.” He protested, causing your gaze to snap to his.

”What?” You questioned, your eyebrows knitting together.

”We have no idea if they’re already watching, I might as well be seen as a gentleman, not a douchebag that lets his partner carry her alarmingly large bag on her own.” You sighed, rolling your eyes but handing over the duffle bag anyways.

”If you start complaining about how heavy it is, I’m taking it back.” Bucky scoffed, effortlessly slinging the bag over his shoulder alongside his own.

“I’ve carried bodies heavier than this.” He responded.

”Wow. How romantic.” You shot back sarcastically, while walking towards the exit of the jet.

”It’s just part of the charm, sweetheart.” You could feel your cheeks heat up slightly at the nickname, as the cold Vienna air washed over your face. The tarmac was quiet, save for the faint buzzing of the airport staff moving around in the distance. Once you had walked down the steps you waited for Bucky before proceeding to the sleek black car that idled at the curb, it’s glossy surface reflecting the warm glow of the nearby streetlights. A man leaned casually against the trunk, arms crossed over his chest. His attire is meticulous; a well-fitted suit, dark leather gloves, and a wide-brimmed hat casting a subtle shadow over his sharp features. He looked extremely professional, though his posture had an air of indifference, like he’d been standing there too long and was ready to be anywhere else. When he had seen the both of you approaching he immediately straightened out, a small smile coming up on his face.

”Mr. Barnes.” He greeted, giving him a nod, “Welcome to Vienna.”

”Thank you.” The driver’s gaze then flickered toward you, as he gave you a nod as well.

”It’s a pleasure to have you as well Mrs…?” Bucky didn’t hesitate.

”Hopefully Mrs. Barnes one day,” He said smoothly, his arm slipping around your waist, fingers resting very lightly at your hip. You were caught off guard by how effortlessly he delivered the line, but you held a casual smile. The driver’s eyebrows lifted slightly, smirking, clearly entertained by Bucky’s response.

”A man with a plan. I respect that.” You forced a laugh, leaning into the act as much as possible.

“Always so charming.” You commented, resting your hand on his rigid abdomen. The driver smiled.

”Well, let’s get you two lovebirds to the hotel then!” He exclaimed, clasping his hands together as he walked towards the drivers side of the car. Bucky’s grip on your waist tightened just enough to remind you of the role you were playing, as he let go, moving to the trunk to put your duffle bags into it. You slid into the backseat, with Bucky following close behind. The leather interior was soft against your back as the both of you settled in, relaxing on your respective sides.

The car eased away from the airport, quickly merging onto the quiet streets of Vienna. The city was bathed in the golden glow of streetlights, the architecture looked regal and timeless against the dark sky, if you weren’t here for a mission you would’ve loved to explore more. The hum of the engine filling the space between you and Bucky. The driver adjusted his rearview mirror so he could look at the both of you.

”So, are you guys celebrating something special?” He asked, his voice casual as he maneuvered the car through the empty city streets.

“Our one year anniversary actually.” Bucky answered without hesitation. The driver let out a whistle.

”Wow, one year huh? That’s always a big one. First anniversaries are always special.” The driver’s enthusiasm was palpable, his grin wide and toothy. “First year of a relationship can always be the hardest they say, what’s the secret to making it?” He asked, glancing back at the road.

”Patience, and knowing when to pick your battles.” Bucky responded. You let out a short laugh at his response.

”That’s very funny coming from you.” Bucky smirked, glancing at you.

”What? You disagree?” You tilted your head, pretending to mull it over.

”Let’s say you have a very selective definition of ‘picking your battles.’” The driver chuckled at the interaction.

”It sounds like the both of you keep each other on your toes.”

“You could say that,” You replied, a playful tone lacing your voice, as you shot Bucky a knowing look.

“That’s how you know it’s real though. You guys can argue, but at the end of the day, you still choose each other.” He paused, then added, “You two planning anything special while you’re here?” Bucky hummed, glancing over at you before responding.

”Haven’t locked anything down yet, but we had some ideas. Sightseeing, going to some top rated restaurants, maybe a little dancing.” The driver nodded.

“Well, if you’re looking for ideas, you picked a great city to celebrate in.” He gestured out the windshield as he made a turn. “Vienna’s got something for everyone. You into history? The Schönbrunn Palace is breathtaking. Art? You can’t miss the Belvedere Museum. Or maybe you want something more intimate, the sunset at the Danube Tower is unforgettable.” Bucky drummed his fingers lightly against his thigh.

”Oh you’ve definitely given us some great suggestions, it’s going to be hard to narrow it down.” You nodded, agreeing with him, the mission still looming in the back of your mind.

”You know…You two remind me of my wife and I when we first started going out.” Bucky raised a brow, glancing over at you.

”Yeah?”

”Definitely,” He responded, his hands steady on the wheel, “Always teasing, making little quips at each other, but at the end of the day there was never any doubt that we were solid.” He turned down another street, “That’s how you know it’s real. When you can drive each other absolutely crazy and you still wouldn’t trade them for the world.” Bucky let out a small chuckle, shaking his head, glancing over at you.

”Well, we’ve definitely got the ‘driving each other crazy’ part down…Don’t we doll?” You wanted to nudge him in the ribs, but you held yourself back.

”Oh yeah. Definitely.” The driver let out a hearty laugh, as the car slowed, approaching a grand hotel. Its entrance was illuminated by the soft glow of golden lanterns, the stairs leading up to the towering glass doors were lined with polished stones, where a doorman in a crisp uniform stood at attention, watching him coming down the steps as soon as the vehicle came to a stop.

”Well, lovebirds, here we are.” The driver announced with a grin as he shifted the car into park, “Welcome to the Imperial!” Bucky exhaled through his nose, glancing over at you, a look of relief washing over his face. He must’ve been itching to get out of the car right when the driver started asking questions. Bucky took his wallet out quickly, handing the man a tip.

“Thank you for the ride.” He said, wasting no time opening the door and stepping out, holding his hand out for you to grab, still trying to keep up appearances.

“Enjoy your stay! And remember, don’t sweat the small stuff.” Bucky leaned down to look at the man.

”We’ll keep it in mind. Thank you again.” He responded politely, closing the door behind him, as the doorman opened the trunk of the car.

“Welcome to the Imperial! I’ll bring your bags in for you, no need to wait for me, you can go and get yourselves checked in.” Bucky gave the doorman a quick nod. You could tell he was eager to get inside and escape the unnecessary small talk, just like you at this point. His hand pressed lightly against your lower back, as he gestured for you to head towards the entrance first.

The moment you stepped inside, the warmth of the hotel lobby enveloped you, a stark contrast to the bitter night air that was brewing outside. The Imperial exuded luxury in every detail; polished marble floors reflected the golden glow of crystal chandeliers overhead, and the faint scent of fresh lilies mingled with the rich aroma of tobacco, like someone had lit a cigar and left it out to marinate. Ornate columns framed the space, leading toward an opulent sitting area where a handful of late-night guests lingered over drinks, their laughter a quiet murmur beneath the soft classical music playing from hidden speakers. You both walked by, garnering their attention for a brief moment before they returned back to their conversations.

Behind the counter, a woman in her mid-thirties with sharp cheekbones, deep red lipstick, and perfectly slicked back brown hair stood, looking at her computer screen with an emotionless expression, nothing behind the eyes.. When she heard you approaching her gaze flicked up, lingering on Bucky for just a little longer than necessary before looking at you. You could see her straighten her back, almost to puff her chest out, and her expression shifted into something more warm and inviting.

”Good evening! Welcome to the Imperial,” She greeted smoothly, her voice like silk against the air, “Do you have a reservation with us this evening?” Bucky gave her a small nod, taking out his wallet.

”Uh…It should be under Barnes. James Barnes.” You glanced over at him, watching him pull out a credit card that had his name scrawled on the back of it, handing it over to her so she could compare the information. She glanced at the card then her screen, scrolling through the list of guests.

”Ah,” She murmured, tapping the enter key, “Here you are. A deluxe suite. What an excellent choice.” Her smile widened ever so slightly, as she handed Bucky’s card back, letting her fingers graze his. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue, it was barely noticeable. He took his card back, clearing his throat slightly.

”The deluxe suite is one of our finest…It’s spacious, private…Perfect for an…” She let the words linger, tilting her head a bit, “Intimate getaway.” You were growing increasingly uncomfortable with the interaction, and you could tell by the way Bucky was fidgeting he was probably in the same boat. He gave her a polite nod, slipping his card back into his wallet.

”It sounds like we got lucky.” The receptionist's smile didn’t waver, if anything it grew even wider.

“Oh, I’d say you’re very lucky, Mr. Barnes.” Her voice dipped just enough into suggestiveness that it caused Bucky’s grip on his wallet to tighten, as her eyes roamed over him. She picked up a black folder, sliding it towards him with ease.

”All the details of your stay will be in here, your key card, the room service menu, spa packages…” She trailed off, her manicured nails tapping against the folders edge, “And of course, if you need anything extra, I’d be happy to personally ensure your stay is perfect.” Bucky nodded stiffly, shifting his weight into you a bit, desperate to wrap this interaction up.

”I appreciate it.” He responded, stepping back a bit, as you took the folder from the desk. Before the receptionist could say anything else, the doorman came in, carrying both of your bags with practiced ease.

”Here we are!” He announced, “Would you like me to bring them up to your suite for you?” Bucky shook his head, jumping at the chance to break free from the lingering tension.

”No need. I got it.” He held his hand out, grabbing both bags from the man, throwing them over his shoulder, his biceps flexing against his fitted long sleeve shirt. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the receptionist’s gaze flicking downward, taking in the ease of his actions, obviously enjoying the view. You let out a small exasperated sigh, as you leaned into Bucky a little more, dragging your hand up his torso, feeling his muscles flinch slightly.

”Baby, can we please go up to the room now? I’ve been dying for a bit of privacy since we got off the plane.” He looked over at you, his eyes widened a bit, taken off guard by your sudden change in tone, now slipping in to save him from being flirted with.

”Of course…Yeah. Where are the elevators?” The both of you turned your attention back to the receptionist, seeing that her expression of lust had faltered just a bit, her smiling tightening at the edges.

”They’re going to be down the hallway to your left. Enjoy your stay.” Bucky didn’t waste a second, moving away from the desk, slipping his hand to your lower back guiding you to the elevators.

As soon as the doors slid closed, the both of you quickly unravelled yourselves from each other, standing on different sides of the elevator.

”Jesus Christ.” Bucky muttered, staring up at the mirrored ceiling, “That was awful.” You smirked.

”She was just being nice.” Bucky’s head snapped down.

”Nice? She was acting like she was going to rip my clothes off in the middle of the lobby. I was about five seconds away from running for my life.” You laughed.

”Who knew the Winter Soldier would be afraid of a little flirting.” Bucky scoffed.

”I’ve seen flirting before. That was not flirting.” He insisted, “And you could’ve stepped in a little sooner y’know.” You let out a soft laugh.

”Well, maybe I wanted to watch you simmer a little bit. You’re the one that went off kilter with the anniversary thing with the driver, it was just pay back.” Bucky narrowed his eyes at you, shifting his stance a bit, feeling the elevator stop on your floor.

”Yeah…I guess you’re right.” A ding echoed through the small space, signalling your arrival, “Let’s just get inside the room before she comes chasing after us asking if I want a private spa service or something.” He wasted no time stepping out of the elevator, adjusting his grip on the bags, with you following him closely down the lavishly decorated hallway. The plush navy carpet absorbed your footsteps, it felt like you were walking on memory foam. You took the keycard out of the folder the receptionist gave, as you reached your suite, sliding it through with euro hesitation, hearing the door click open, pushing it open wide before slipping into the suite.

You step in first, taking in the expansive suite with its elegant decor. The soft yellow lighting illuminates the room, casting a warm glow all over the navy accents that were strewn about the room. There were floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a stunning view of the city, and from way up there you could see things were still buzzing. It was undeniably luxurious, and for a moment, you almost forgot why you were there in the first place. Your eyes continued to skim over the accommodations, as Bucky stepped in behind you, dropping the bags in front of the closet, a sigh escaping his lips.

“Damn…Pretty fancy.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he began to wander. You stepped towards the windows, wanting to get a better look at the view, crossing your arms over your stomach to hold yourself. Bucky moved toward the small kitchenette, his fingers drumming along the marble countertop.

“Mmm…At least we got a free bottle of champagne.” He announced, as you looked over your shoulder, seeing him turn the bottle towards you, a smirk on his lips, placing it back down on the counter, so that he could continue to explore the suite further, disappearing behind a partially opened door. You heard him hum in mild amusement before poking his head out.

”You’d be happy to know that the bed is massive. You’re gonna love it.” You stepped away from the window, making your way toward the bedroom. The room matched the accents of the main living area, the deep navy, the gold accents, the thick carpeting, with a bed so big that it could at least fit three people comfortably.

“It’s nice.” Bucky smirked, watching as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

”There’s just one issue.” Bucky raised a brow.

”What?” You motioned to the wall opposite of the bed.

”There’s no TV in here…” He glanced at the wall.

”Guess they think people coming in here don’t need distractions.” You let out a quiet sigh.

”I can’t sleep without background noise.” You murmured, seeing Bucky’s face fall a bit, now realizing you were being serious. You slipped out of the bedroom, hearing Bucky’s footsteps following close behind.

”Is that a you thing or…Is that a HYDRA thing?” He asked, watching as you went over to the counter that had the bottle of champagne on it, ripping off the black foil.

”I think you can take a guess,” You responded, twisting the metal that was holding the cork on the bottle. His jaw ticked, not needing to push you any further for details, as he moved towards you, leaning against the counter, his fingers idly tapping against his bicep.

”I get it.” You threw the curled metal onto the counter, putting your hand over the cork, turning it slowly.

”Sure.” The tone was a bit dismissive, and you didn’t mean for it to sound that way, all you wanted to do was avoid the conversation about HYDRA.

”I sleep on the floor, with the lights on, and even when those conditions are met I still can’t get a normal night's rest. So I do get it Y/N.” Your movements faltered for a moment, your grip on the cork tightening. The tension in Bucky’s voice wasn’t accusatory, but it wasn’t light either. You swallowed thickly, letting the words settle between the both of you until the cork popped with a soft thud. You reached for the two tubular glasses and poured the champagne into them slowly, being mindful of the bubbles that frothed at the surface. Bucky stayed where he was, as you handed him a full glass.

”If you need the background noise you can sleep out here, if you want.” You glanced up at him.

“What?” He motioned towards the couch in the living room area.

”You can take the couch since I won’t be using it, and I don’t mind background noise…I probably won’t be sleeping tonight anyways.” You hesitated for a moment, taking a small sip from the champagne glass, letting the sweet, and bitter flavour mingle on your tongue.

“Couch it is…I guess.” You responded. Bucky gave a tiny, satisfied nod before raising his glass slightly, not as a toast, just as a simple acknowledgment of the situation, with you mirroring the same gesture, the both of you downing the whole glass in one go. The fizzy liquid burned slightly on the way down, but it was far from it being unpleasant. If anything, it helped take the edge off, even if it was just a little. Your tongue swiped across your lips, chasing the lingering taste.

“Well, that’s definitely a way to settle in.” You huffed a quiet laugh.

”Could be worse, we could be stuck in some rundown motel with paper-thin walls.” Bucky smirked, setting his empty champagne glass down on the counter with a quiet clink.

”I actually think if we were in a rundown motel less eyes would be on us.” You placed your glass down as well.

”Yeah, but then we’d have to deal with the possibility of bedbugs, a busted heater, and a crappy television set.”

”Sounds like a real test of endurance.” He quipped, as he grabbed the countertop with his hands.

”Mmm, real elite training there Bucky. Maybe throw in some mystery stains on the carpet for a little bit of spice.” He snorted, shaking his head as he reached for one of the mini bottles of whisky that came with the mini bar.

”Speaking of challenges, we should probably get something to eat before we start drinking more.” You raised your eyebrows at him.

”Did we get different super serums or something? Because I could’ve sworn I don’t get drunk and I’ve really tried to override that.” He smirked, twisting off the small cap from the bottle, taking a sip.

”No, we definitely have similar versions if you don’t get drunk, but then again I haven’t really ran into anyone else like us to ask this question.” You hummed, handing him the room service menu.

”Well, if we ever do, I think that’ll be the first question I ask. Forget the whole ‘where are you from, what’s your story’, I’m leading with ‘can you go through multiple large bottles of alcohol and not absolutely destroy your liver?’” Bucky laughed.

”Yeah, it’s definitely an important question to ask, skip all the pleasantries, get straight to the essentials.” You smirked, watching as he flipped open the menu, his eyes skimming along the items.

”Alright, what are we thinking? Fries? Sliders? Mystery meat from the hotel’s five-star kitchen?” You shrugged, leaning against the counter.

”Honestly, just order anything. As long as it’s not snails or something that still has a face.” He nodded, reaching for the phone.

”Don’t worry, I have the same sentiment. No fine dining nightmares.” You listened as he placed the order, keeping it simple with fries, sliders, and a charcuterie board because he wanted something to pick at. He also made sure to add the large bottle of whisky onto the order just before hanging up.

”They said it’ll be here in about thirty minutes.” He said, stretching his arms above his head to crack his back and neck.

”Alright, I’m gonna hit the shower first then since it’s gonna be a bit of a wait.” Bucky nodded.

”Go for it, I’ll make sure they don’t slip something into our food.” You made your way over to your bag, grabbing the pajamas you brought before heading toward the bathroom.

”Ever the soldier, Barnes.”

”Hey, it comes with the territory.” He shot back, as you closed the door behind you. The space was sleek and modern, all marble and gold accents, the kind of luxury that made you hesitate for a second. It felt too pristine, too untouched. You shook off the thought and turned the shower on, letting the water heat up as steam filled the room. You peeled your clothes off, leaving them in a small pile on the floor, before stepping under the boiling water, sighing as the heat ran over your skin. You could feel the tension in your muscles melt away, and for the first time in the last few hours, you felt yourself truly relax beneath the stream.

You ran your hands over your arms, watching the droplets of water slide over your skin, reaching over to pump a bit of body wash into your hand. The lush scent of lavender tickled your nose, as you ran the soap along the planes of your body, taking time with yourself to just absorb the calm environment. It wasn’t often that you got to enjoy something as simple as a hot shower without rushing, nor without your mind racing. You lingered longer than usual, running your hands over your body, tracing the rivulets of water as they slid down your skin. It felt indulgent in a way—like taking your time was a luxury.

After a while, the heat began to weigh on you, and you reached to turn off the water, stepping out onto the plush bath mat. The mirror was fogged over, your reflection blurring at the edges as you wiped a hand across the glass

You grabbed a towel, running it over your arms and legs before wrapping it around yourself. The air was noticeably cooler now that you were out of the shower, a stark contrast to the warmth you’d just been under. You stood for a moment, looking at your reflection before grabbing your pajamas, and pulling them on, starting with your baggy tan t-shirt, then ending with your shorts that you could barely see due to the length of the top. You stopped to look at your reflection for a moment, turning to the side to look at the three deep scar tissue marks on your outer thigh, your fingertips running along them, letting out a frustrated sigh, before fixing the shirt over it. You hung the damp towel on the back of the door, stepping back out into the main area of the suite, pushing your hair out of your face. Bucky was sitting at the little coffee table, pouring himself another glass of whiskey, looking up when the floor creaked.

His blue eyes scanned over you quietly. You could see the way they roamed up your bare legs, the way he stared at the oversized shirt that silhouetted over your figure. Just for a second you caught a subtle shift in his expression, but he didn’t say anything, he glanced back down at his glass, running his thumb over the rim of the glass. You weren’t sure if his reaction made you feel awkward, but you tried not to notice it, as you made your way to the seat across from him, seeing the food had already arrived and he had waited for you. The charcuterie board was neatly arranged, the sliders looked perfectly cooked, and the fries were still warm, the smell of salt and crisped potatoes filling the air.

“I’m impressed you didn’t rip this entire plate apart.” You said, reaching for a fry, before plopping yourself down on the seat in front of him. Bucky brought his glass of whiskey to his lips.

”Figured it’d be rude if I didn’t wait.” He explained, taking a sip. You hummed in approval, popping the fry into your mouth.

“How thoughtful.” Bucky’s eyes rested on yours for a moment, as he settled his glass down.

”You want some?” He asked, gesturing to the bottle of whiskey. You nodded, grabbing the empty glass in front of you, holding it out for him to pour into. The amber liquid sloshed around slightly, just before he set the bottle back down on the table. You brought the drink up to your lips, taking a small sip, feeling the heat spreading in your mouth, then down your throat. Bucky cleared his throat, gaining your attention.

”I just…I just want to ask.” He hesitated, looking through the glass coffee table at the three scars on your outer thigh. You traced his eyesight, and looked down, “Did I…?” You blinked, caught off guard for a second. He looked like he was bracing himself, waiting to hear another thing he had done that he completely forgot about. You immediately shook your head.

”No,” You replied. “It wasn’t you.” His shoulders relaxed, but the tension didn’t fully leave his face.

”Alright,” He muttered, his eyes still lingering on them, because now he was thinking about who might’ve done it to you.

”Bucky,” You said gently, drawing his attention back up to you, “You don’t have to hold your breath every time you notice something. Trust me, you would’ve known if you caused this.” Bucky nodded slowly, his fingers toying with the rim of his glass again.

“Just wanted to check.” You exhaled softly.

”I get it.” And you really did. His mind was just jumping to the worst-case scenario, as if it was easier for him to believe he was the cause of all the violence you had experienced in your life, rather than realize, for once, he wasn’t to blame.

The two of you continued to pick at the food, trading quiet conversation between bites, until exhaustion started to creep in. You glanced over at the clock, seeing that it was almost 3 o’clock in the morning, groaning as you pushed yourself up from your seat.

“I’m gonna grab the duvet off the bed,” You said, heading towards the bedroom. Bucky watched you disappear before he stood as well, stretching his arms above his head. By the time you returned with the thick duvet and matching pillow bundled in your arms, he had already grabbed a folded blanket from the closet, and was tossing it down onto the floor near the couch. You shifted past him, letting the duvet unravel in your hands, dropping it over the couch, adjusting it as you threw the pillow down on top of it, before sliding beneath the covering, pulling it up to your neck, letting out a sigh at the warmth.

Bucky turned on the television, and left on one of the side table lamps that was closest to him, as he got himself comfortable on the floor beside the couch, shaking his blanket out and carefully lowering himself down with ease, making it clear that it wasn’t his first rodeo. He let out a small groan, turning onto his side so he was facing the muddied infomercials that were on the screen, shifting so he could get comfortable.

For a while, the only sound in the room was the low hum of the television. The infomercials blurred into background noise, a comforting, monotonous buzz against the silence that had settled between the two of you. You lay on the couch, your head sinking into the pillow, but your mind wasn’t quite ready to shut off yet. You glanced over the side of the couch, looking at Bucky who was now laying on his back, one arm tucked beneath his head, while his vibranium fingers flexed against the fabric of his shirt.

“Bucky.” You whispered, he hummed, opening his eyes to look up at you.

”Yeah?” He asks, a hint of concern lacing his voice.

“What are you thinking about?” You hear him swallow at the question, watching him shift a bit.

”The usual things I think about. Sometimes I get these headaches, and I get these…Memories of things. I don’t know if it’s from all the mind wiping they did to me, but it’s like it fills in the gaps.” You could see the tension in his jaw, and the way he was running his vibranium hand along his shirt, like he was trying to soothe himself.

”What kind of memories?” You asked softly.

”Not the good ones…It’s always people I don’t recognize, but it’s usually safe to assume I’ve hurt them in some way.” He whispered, “It’s not clear enough to tell. It’s fragments. A voice, a place, a feeling. I don’t even know if they’re real or not, because I don’t remember things completely, you know what I mean?” You nodded slowly, your fingers curling into the edge of the duvet.

”I get it.” You replied, his eyes flickered toward you.

”Yeah?” You exhaled slowly, shifting on the couch so you were in his line of sight.

”Well, I didn’t go through what you did, but after I escaped and defected, I went through a period where I was constantly having nightmares. I was an absolute wreck. I still have moments where I remember things and it scares the shit out of me, because it feels like I’m back there.” Bucky let out a small laugh, but it wasn’t one of amusement.

”Seems like we have something in common, some nights I wake up and it’s like I’m back there being pinned against the new soldiers all over again, getting the crap beat out of me because HYDRA wanted to see if they were as strong as their first prototype.” You could feel a shiver creep up your bones as you moved back a bit.

”I escaped before they could pin me against you.” He let out a slow breath.

”I know…If I can remember anything about you from back then, it’s that HYDRA had a vendetta against you. That’s why when you escaped they sent me after you.” You nodded.

”Because I broke their precious programming.”

”Mmm, and it pissed them off.” He smirked, “They don’t like loose ends.” You laughed a bit.

”No, they don’t. I’m shocked they never found out that I lived through your attack.” You said, digging your nails into your palm.

“When I found out from Steve that you were still alive I thought he was joking, I had never failed a mission. I kept saying that to him too, and he kept telling me you were in the hospital. Still kicking. Recovering from what I did. He never went into detail about what I had done, probably to not add to the psychological torment.” You smirked.

”Yeah when he told me that he told you I was still alive I almost punched a hole through him.” Bucky let out a small laugh.

”Sounds about right…” He paused, still running his fingers over his top, “Can I be honest about something though?”

“Of course.” He sighed, sitting up so he was face to face with you.

”When he told me you were alive I was really relieved.” You studied him for a moment, seeing him push his hair out of his face, “And when he would come see me…I would ask how you were.” You leaned up on your arm, surprised by this admission, taken completely off guard by what he was saying, “He would tell me all the little updates, but he also told me to not show my face or else you would probably kill me.” You raised your eyebrows at him, remembering the times where Steve would casually ask the nurses if there was anything new going on with me, realizing that it wasn’t for him, it was for Bucky.

”Well he wasn’t wrong there…Even in the briefing room yesterday I was contemplating killing you.” You commented.

”Yeah, I could see it in your eyes when you saw me. I knew you weren’t going to be happy to see me, but my goodness I didn’t think you were going to go in so hard on me.” You scratched the back of your neck.

”Can’t really blame me there…I’m sorry for those things I said though, I got really nasty, and I hit below the belt, and Maria was right...I pushed your buttons.” He shook his head.

”It’s okay, I deserved it, and for what it’s worth…I’m also sorry for getting in your face during that whole thing. Should’ve just let you take your anger out on me, just like everyone used to.” For a long moment the two of you just stayed still, facing each other. The room felt like it had shrunk around you, but it wasn’t suffocating at all. Bucky’s eyes flickered over your face, trying to figure out what you were thinking, but he couldn’t find anything. The weight of everything that had just been spoken about beared down on the both of you, but it had softened some of the resentment you were still holding onto. He watched as you sat up, pushing the duvet off you, and before he could ask what you were doing, you wrapped your arms around him, bringing him in for a hug.

Immediately he stiffened, caught off guard by the unexpected gesture. You felt so warm against him, that it took a moment to register what was happening, but when he finally pulled himself out of his racing thoughts, he released a quiet shudder, and wrapped his arms around you as well. You weren’t sure why you had done it. Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was the weight of everything between you two, pressing in from all sides. But as you held him, you could feel the tension in his body, the way his breathing had become uneven, shallow.

And then, you felt it.

A single shuddered breath against your shoulder. The quietest sniff—so small, so restrained, as if he was fighting against it with everything he had, and then a few warm droplets hitting the fabric of your shirt. Tears. You could feel his arms tighten around you ever so slightly, digging his face into your shoulder like he was shielding himself, or so you couldn’t move back to see him. You breathed in, catching the sweet minty scent of his clothes for a brief moment, as you ran a hand down his back to soothe him. He trembled against you, another sob escaping his throat, muffled by your shoulder.

“I-“ He tried to speak, but his voice was cut off by him breathing in.

”Shh…You don’t have to say anything Bucky…It’s okay.” You whispered, and for the rest of the time you sat there holding him, he didn’t say anything. He just held onto you as tightly as possible.

————

“Bucky. I need you to come in here and zip me up. I’m not flexible.” You yelled, looking at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the tight silk fabric of the dress, pulling it down as far as it could go. You could hear the sound of Bucky’s heavy steps approaching the washroom, before he pushed open the door, buttoning up the sleeves of his black dress shirt that fit snugly against his broad frame. You were surprised at how well he cleaned up, and how good he looked in just a black dress shirt and a pair of dark grey dress pants. It was so simple, yet so…Sophisticated. He glanced up from what he was doing, his eyebrows raising a little bit, a smirk appearing on his lips. You squinted at him.

”What’s that face all about? Hmm? Do you want to wear the dress?” Bucky laughed, shaking his head, stepping closer to you.

“I don’t think I’d fit into it, but I’d love to see you try to get me into one…Now turn around.” You rolled your eyes at his comment, but did as he said, turning your back to him and adjusting your hair so it wouldn’t possibly get in his way. He stepped towards you, his fingers finding the zipper, picking up where you left off. You could feel the fabric getting tighter against your body as he brought the zipper higher up your back, his vibranium hand absentmindedly settling on your waist to hold you still. He sighed, letting you go once he had fully zipped the dress up, catching the way his eyes roamed over your reflection, his teeth briefly biting his bottom lip.

”All set.” He announced, watching as you adjusted the fabric again, seeing his eyes flicking to the scar in the middle of your chest that was poking out from just above the neckline of the dress, his eyes softening.

“Something on your mind, Barnes?” You asked, gaining his attention, drawing him out of his trance.

”No…Just looking.” You raised an eyebrow at him, reaching for the thin gold chain you had placed on the countertop.

”And what exactly are you looking at?” Your tone was playful, trying to settle into the mood you would have to be in the whole night. Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, watching as you fastened the delicate chain around your neck, letting it settle gently on your skin.

”What do you think I’m looking at?” He responded, now leaning himself against the countertop, looking at the way you continued to adjust yourself.

“If I’m not mistaken…It seems like you’re enjoying the view.”You said, reaching for your earrings, tilting your head to glance over at him.

“You’re definitely not mistaken.” His voice was smooth, with an undeniable teasing tone lacing his words. You let out a small huff, fighting the heat that began to creep up onto your cheeks, as you clasped one of your earrings into place.

”You know Bucky, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you are flirting with me.” He smirked, turning fully towards you, as his vibranium fingers tapped along the sink.

”And if I am?” He asked, his eyebrows raising, your gaze meeting his through the reflection, as you fastened the second earring.

”Then I’d say you’re laying it on pretty thick.” He laughed a bit, moving closer to you, your body turning to face him now. He looked down at you.

”You wound me, doll,” He murmured, feigning hurt, “Here I am, just trying to be a convincing partner for the night, and you’re saying I’m laying it on too thick.” You scoffed.

”Oh please.” Bucky’s eyes continue to roam over your face, looking at the way your skin glowed under the harsh lighting of the bathroom, the way your lashes framed your eyes when you looked up at him, the way you studied every expression that came up on his face. There was a beat of silence.

“All jokes aside though…You look great.” His compliment caught you off guard for a split second, as you cleared your throat.

”Well. You clean up pretty well yourself.” He hummed, looking at himself in the mirror.

”You really think so?” You gave him a once-over, using it as an excuse to really take in how form fitting the outfit was, tilting your head slightly, pretending to contemplate.

”Mmm, yeah, you look presentable enough.” Bucky let out a dramatic scoff.

”Presentable enough? That’s all I get huh?” His eyes narrowing with playful offense, drawing out a small beat of laughter from you. You reached for your cherry chapstick, not wanting to be too bold for the night, taking off the cap.

”Now, now, don’t be so dramatic, I’m sure there will still be plenty of eyes on you tonight regardless of what I say.” You said, swiping the sheer red colour over your bottom lip, then the top, repeating a few times.

“Is that so?” Bucky mused, watching you press your lips together, as you capped the tube, tossing it into your small bag.

”Let me see, the hostess, for one, probably all the women in the room, and even the men at this point.” You responded.

“I think you may have left someone out in that long list of yours.” You raised your eyebrows at him, adjusting the dress one more time.

”Oh yeah? And who might that be?” You asked.

”You.” He whispered, leaning in down a bit, getting into your space, his sweet, lavender scented cologne invading your senses. You held your ground though, refusing to crack under how smooth he was with his flirting.

”I didn’t know you wanted my attention so badly.” You replied back, leaning in as well, almost like you were challenging him, getting close enough that you were basically exchanging breaths with one another.

“Can you blame me?” He asked. You could feel your pulse gallop for a split second, as your lips parted, trying to find a witty remark to rebuttal with, only for you to stop short. His gaze flicked between your eyes, then to your lips, his blue irises glistening beneath the lighting. You cleared your throat, breaking the silence.

”That depends…Are you going to be like this all night?” He hummed.

”Are you going to let me? Because I can do this all night sweetheart, won’t even break a sweat.” You could feel the heart crawling up your chest. He was testing you, waiting for you to crack, but you just couldn’t give him the satisfaction.

”That’s a bold claim. You sure you can back it up?” He wet his lips with his tongue, his gaze still locked onto yours.

”You know I can.” The tension between you felt electric, humming in the small space that was still between you, buzzing loudly. Neither of you were willing to step back.

”Is that right?”” You murmured, your voice smooth, testing.

”You want me to prove it?” You arched an eyebrow.

”Are you offering?” His vibranium tapped along the edge of the countertop, whilst his other hand brushed lightly over the fabric at the bottom of your dress, barely touching it as he toyed with the hem.

”Hmm. Yeah, I am.” You could feel his fingers trail up just a fraction higher before you grabbed his wrist. The air in the room shifted, an all encompassed heat raising to your cheeks. He smiled at you, seeing the way you broke eye contact, your eyelashes fluttering involuntarily.

“Too much?” He asked, teasing.

“No…We just have to get going.” You replied. He looked down at you for one more second, gently biting the inside of his lip, before pulling his hand away, lifting his hands in mock surrender.

”Right. Wouldn’t want to be late.” You turned away from him, grabbing your bag from off the counter, the warmth of his touch still lingering against your skin. He watched you closely, hearing the shakiness of your breathing that you tried to cover up by making additional noise, but he knew. He tucked his hands into his pockets, a restraint to hold himself back from touching you again.

“Come on…We got places to be.” You announced, walking past him, keeping your eyes off him.

—————

From the street, the neon-red glow of The Velvet Fang’s sign bathed the alleyway in an eerie, seductive light, casting long shadows against the damp pavement. The sign flickered slightly, a heartbeat of crimson against the darkness of the night, drawing attention like a whisper promising something sinful just beyond its threshold. Bucky’s arm was draped over your waist as the both of you made your way towards the security guard, the scent of rain lingering in the air around you, mixing with the distant aroma of cigar smoke coming from the people that lined the alleyway. There were faint looks of exhaustion printed on their aged faces, and small sweat marks staining their shirts. You were thankful you had dressed lightly, because evidently it seemed like it was going to be overwhelmingly warm in the club.

The security guard stationed by the entrance was tall, and broad shouldered, a mountain of a man, with a shaved head, and dark eyes that roamed over you. You and Bucky stepped towards him, and his hard expression barely shifted, he had a tablet in his hand, which shadowed his face harshly.

”Name?” He asked, only looking at Bucky.

”James Barnes.” He replied, his hand twitching against your waist slightly, almost as if he was giving a warning. The guard looked down at the screen, scrolling up for a moment, before clicking on something. He took a moment, and you could see his eyes scanning over something, glancing up at Bucky, then at you.

“Super soldiers hmm?” He had a hint of interest in his eyes, as he continued to scan over whatever he had been looking at moments ago. Of course they did their research, you could imagine what was on that tablet, all the information. You wouldn’t be surprised if they had been watching you since you stepped foot in Vienna. Bucky didn’t react beyond a tight-lipped smile.

”Is it an issue?” His voice was casual, smooth, and non-threatening. The security guard looked up from the screen, letting out a short, gruff chuckle.

”Not an issue, we get all kinds coming here. All we ask is that you don’t start any problems.” Bucky offered a slow nod, his fingers soothing against the fabric of your dress.

”Wouldn’t dream of it.” The guard studied him for a second longer, before his eyes trailed over to you, dragging over your frame in a way that made your skin crawl. Finally, he stepped aside, motioning towards the metal door, sliding it open.

”Enjoy yourselves.” The moment you stepped inside, the heavy metal door groaned shut behind you, sealing off the outside world. There was a dimly lit hallway leading towards a set of stairs, and the thrum of music vibrated through the floor, a slow seductive beat booming under your legs, almost making them turn to jelly. You could smell the distinct scent of musk in the air; sweat, smoky leather…It was as if it clung to every surface of the enclosed space. Bucky still held your waist, as he guided you towards the staircase. Just before you could step down, he pulled you to the side, into the shadows of a small corridor, leaning in to talk into the shell of your ear so you could hear him over the chest shaking bass that continued to grow in volume. One hand settled on your waist, while the vibranium one was pressed against the wall behind you.

“I need you to listen to me for a minute okay?” You tilted your chin up, nodding at him.

”If we get separated, you don’t come looking for me. You don’t wait around. You leave. Do you understand?” Bucky wasn’t just saying this as a precaution, he was saying it because he knew there was a real possibility of things going wrong, and you could hear the tinge of worry sprinkled in his voice, even though he tried to hold it back. You shook your head.

”That’s ridiculous Bucky. I’m not going to run, are you insane? You can’t ask that of me.” He pulled away from you.

“Why do you always have to argue with me Y/N. Just please for the love of god listen to me.” Your jaw tightened, the weight of his words pressed down on your chest.

”You’re asking me to abandon you, Bucky. Do you not hear yourself?” His fingers on your waist twitched.

”I do hear myself, and I need you to hear me too.” You looked up at him, your eyes glistening in the faint red light of the corridor.

”It’s not an option, Bucky. I’m not doing it.” You crossed your arms over your stomach.

”Do you really think I want to be saying this to you right now?” Your arms stayed locked around yourself, a weak shield against the way his words were sinking into you, as you looked away from him.

“I’m not doing it.” You repeated. Bucky exhaled sharply, his hand leaving your waist for a brief moment, before his calloused touch reached your face, his rough thumbs pressing against your cheekbones, tilting your head to look up at him again. It was gentle, yet firm all at the same time.

“Please.” His voice was stripped of its usual steadiness, “Please Y/N. If something happens, I need to know you’ll be safe. You need to just listen to me. Please.” You could feel his hot breath hitting against your face, the all too familiar scent of him wrapping around you, warming your body. You could feel your chest tighten, your pulse hammering away in your throat, as you reached up and wrapped your hands around his wrists.

”Bucky…” His forehead dipped dangerously close to yours, his breath becoming heavier against your skin.

“Please.” He begged again. His voice cracked, almost like how he sounded last night after he had stopped crying, after he apologized for your tear soaked shirt, after he laid back down and said goodnight. You wanted to scream at him, maybe it would make him understand that you didn’t work this way, but it wasn’t going to work…

”…Fine. I’ll do it…” You could feel his breath come out in a sigh, as he pulled back, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss between your brows. His breath came out shakily against your skin, as his thumbs traced over your cheekbones for a split second, before stopping. The action had caught you off guard, but you couldn’t even think, because by the time you had something to say his lips had left your skin.

”Thank you.” He whispered, pulling back from you, his hands leaving your face, his warmth parting from your body. He ran a hand through his hair, taking a moment to recollect himself, his eyes flicking back to yours. You swallowed thickly.

”We should head in.” You said, breaking the silence. Bucky gave a slow nod, holding out his hand for you, guiding you toward the descending staircase, your eyes adjusting to the blood red walls that surrounded you.

The closer you got to the club area, the heavier the bass thumped through your chest, rattling through every bone in your body like a second heartbeat. The moment you stepped through the final set of doors, it was like you had crossed a threshold into a different world entirely. Now the smell of leather, sweat, and something much more heady settled in the back of your throat. It was dizzying.

The inside of the club was dark, you could barely see anything apart from the shadows that were cast from the strobe lights that were going in chaotic bursts, distorting the movement of the bodies that were tangling themselves into each other on the dance floor, but you could barely see. The music wasn’t just loud now, it was vibrating throughout your entire body, almost to the point where it made you nauseous. Your eyes took a while to adjust to the dimmed lighting, as you felt Bucky tense beside you, his hand tightening around yours. You looked over at him, seeing the way his face had dropped, like he was in shock, caught off guard in some way.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky yelled, but it sounded like a whisper over the deafening bass. Your eyes finally adjusted to the lighting, and now your gaze followed his, connecting the dots as to why he looked so tense.

The dance floor was a writhing mass of limbs, hands touching breasts, settling between thighs, exploring each other, mouths meeting in heated kisses, completely losing themselves in the pools of lust and desire. There were booths that lined the outer perimeter of the dance floor that were hardly private. Some had sheer curtains that barely concealed the occupants inside, while others remained entirely open so that the scenes within them were revealed to the rest of the patrons. A man sat back lazily on a plush seat, his fingers tangled in a woman’s hair as she knelt between his legs, while in another booth there was a trio wrapped up together, moving in intoxicating synchrony.

Bucky leaned in close, his lips hovering just beside your ear.

”I need a fucking drink.” You nodded in agreement, as he pulled you towards the bar on the side of the dance floor. You stayed close to him, your hand tightening around his to make sure the both of you didn’t separate in the chaos of it all.

As you reached the bar, the dim glow of the red light bathed the sleek obsidian bouncer top, reflecting against the rows of expensive liquor that was lined up behind it. The bartender, a tall man with slicked back hair tied into a bun, gave an amused smirk towards the both of you, watching as you sat down on one of the stools.

“What can I get you?” You glanced over at Bucky, motioning for him to order first.

”Whiskey…Neat please.” The bartender nodded, turning to you.

”And for the lady?” You hesitated for a second, as Bucky’s hand rested against your thigh, his thumb tracing along the warm skin.

”I’ll have a tequila pineapple. Thank you.” The bartender leaned in closer to you, a spicy cinnamon scent immediately hitting your nose.

”A single or double shot?” He asked, you glanced over at Bucky, then back towards him.

”Double please.” He smirked, moving back to collect the bottles needed for the drinks, and the glasses as well. The bartender moved with an ease only a professional with years of experience would have, pouring Bucky’s whiskey while he poured out the shots of tequila for your drink, then poured the pineapple juice as well. He slid both drinks towards you, and smiled, going to the other side of the bar to take other orders.

Neither of you spoke as you drank, it was as if you didn’t want to talk about what was going on throughout the club. You kept your eyes locked on the glass, taking generous gulps, letting the burn radiate through your chest. Bucky’s hand remained on your thigh, tracing up your exposed skin, as he surveyed the room, trying his best not to be obvious. You could feel the slight flex of his fingers, before he continued to rub gently, like he was trying to soothe himself, and you at the same time. You finished your drink, placing the glass back on the bar, as Bucky moved towards you, pushing your hair away from your ear.

“I think we need to move, if we keep sitting here it’s gonna draw attention.” Your skin prickled under the heat of his breath, and for a split second, you thought you felt his lips.

”Yeah. Okay.” You replied, as he pulled back, his fingers leaving your thigh, offering you help off your stool. He held your hand as he guided you away from the bar.

The moment Bucky pulled you onto the dance floor it was like you were swallowed up by the bodies, but the people around you ceased to exist. His hands found your waist first, as he kept you close to him, making sure you were practically flush against him. His chest pressed against yours, while you found your rhythm, attempting to match the beat, the friction between your bodies growing with every movement you made, while your hands ran over his dress shirt. His warmth seeped into your skin, and you could feel his hot, uneven breath fanning across your collarbone. You felt his hand slide lower, resting on your hip, his fingers curling into the silk, holding onto it for dear life, as his vibranium hand traced up the length of your back, the cool temperature contrasting against the heat of your body. You looked up at him, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth, seeing the starvation behind his gaze, the kind that pinned you in place, made your pulse pound against your throat like a drum. He shook his head at you, leaning to the side.

”You have no fucking idea what you’re doing to me.” He said against your ear, your stomach coiling, burning hot from the words he spoke. His lips ghosted over your jaw, not quite touching, just hovering, trying to tease you into making the first move. His breathing grew heavier the closer he got to your throat, when finally, he gave you a gentle kiss, as if he was seeing whether or not you were going to stop him. You tipped your head back, exposing more skin to him, silently giving him the invitation he needed to continue. His mouth opened against your skin, his teeth dragging over your pulse point, eliciting a gasp from you, his tongue flicking out to taste the saltiness of your sweat.

“Fuck…” He rasped against your throat, bringing his vibranium hand down to press against the small of your back, to bring you even closer to him. You could feel every muscle in his body coiling so tight that he was practically shaking against you trying to keep his composure. His lips trailed up, going past your jaw, and ghosting over the corner of your mouth. Teasing. Testing. Waiting for you to make the first move and break, but you couldn’t…Not yet.

His lips hovered over yours, he was so close that every breath you took became his, the both of you panting. His nose brushed against yours, his lips parting to let out a shaky breath. Through the strobe lights you could see his pupils were blown wide, the adrenaline of the anticipation eating away at him minute by minute.

You let the moment stretch, as your hands slid up his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your fingers, before curling them into the hair at the nape of his neck, your nails dragging lightly against his scalp, earning a small shudder from him. Finally, you brought him down towards you, crashing your lips against his.

The second your mouths met, it was like a dam broke, flooding the both of you with such desperation it almost choked you. Bucky inhaled sharply through his nose, as his hands reached up to cradle your face, anchoring himself to you. His lips were searing, moving against yours like he had been starving for this. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, sucking it gently, willing your mouth to open for him, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth. You pulled on his hair, feeling one of his hands leaving your face to rest on your waist, as he pressed his hips forward into yours, a silent plea, and a wordless confession of how badly he wanted you. His lips broke away from yours, only to trail kisses down your jaw, his stubble scraping against your skin, creating a contrast to the softness of his lips as he bit, kissed, and licked a path down your throat.

“Bucky…” His name left your lips in a breathy moan, causing him to sink his teeth slightly into your skin, before sucking gently on it, hard enough that there would be evidence of his mark for the next few days. You pulled on his hair again, feeling his lips drag back up to reclaim yours in a kiss so deep that your chest was burning from the lack of air. His vibranium fingers slid beneath the hem of your dress, skinning the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He was seconds away from dragging you out from the dance floor, seconds away from losing control entirely….

And then you felt a new pair of hands on you, causing the both of you to pull away from one another in a frightened haste.

“Well, well,” A voice purred above the pulsing bass, “Please don’t stop on my account.” Timothy Orkolov said, a smile draped over his lips. His gaze flicked between the two of you, taking in your swollen lips, the way Bucky’s hands had now moved to be more in front of you, so you would be behind him. He chuckled at the sight, swirling his drink around in his glass.

“I must admit, I’ve always wanted to see if it was true that HYDRA soldiers could go all night in the bedroom.” He teased, watching Bucky’s fingers twitching against your waist.

”Careful,” He warned sharply. Orkolov held his hand up.

”Oh come on James. You and your lovely partner here come waltzing into my club, put on a little show, and then you expect me not to comment about it? Forgive me for being curious.” His gaze dragged over you, appraising, assessing, his eyes lingering briefly on the scar between your chest, his lips curling into a smirk, “It’s rare to see two super soldiers together in one room, let alone seeing them in love like this…It’s almost poetic.” Bucky exhaled through his nose.

”Do you have a point to make or are you here to run your mouth?” Orkolov took a lazy sip from his glass, before tilting his chin towards the velvet-curtained VIP section at the back of the club.

”Why don’t we have a chat in private? Clearly you two came for something, I’d hate to keep the anticipation building.” Bucky looked over at you, his eyes still glazed over from your heated interaction, giving a nod.

”Fine. Lead the way.” Orkolov gave a small toothy smile, as he motioned for you to follow him.

The VIP section was draped in velvet red walls, the seating areas had harsh lights above you, where you’d be able to see someone perfectly, but it made your eyes sting from the transition from the dark chasm of the club to this. Orkolov took the both of you to a more secluded area, attempting to find the most private area so you would all be able to hear each other. He gestured for the both of you to go inside first. The room was average, it had a bar, a table, some velvet seats that matched the aesthetic of the rest of the club, and of course it was accented with gold trim wherever it could be. Orkolov roamed over to the bar, humming softly, like he was just having a pleasant meeting between old friends.

”Whiskey? Vodka? Anything to drink for either of you?” He asked, motioning to the bottles of alcohol behind him. Neither of you answered, “Well, suit yourselves.” He added, refilling his glass with whiskey, taking a long sip before motioning to the seats.

”Please. Let’s sit.” You and Bucky hesitated, looking at each other, trying to see what the play was going to be, but you never went through the possibility of having a private meeting with Orkolov. So you took a seat first, watching as Bucky joined you, his body on high alert, sturdy and stiff beside you. Orkolov’s eyes swept over you, his gaze dragging down your body, drinking up the image in front of him, until they settled on the scar that disappeared beneath your neckline. He swirled his drink around in his glass, placing it down onto the table.

”You know,” He mused, “I’ve read so much about the experiments HYDRA did. The enhancements. The conditioning. But you…” He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table, “You’re a mystery to me.” You kept eye contact with him, not breaking, not looking away.

“It’s such a shame they never completed you…” Your pulse pounded in your ears, but you still refused to give him the reaction, “Because that would’ve never happened to you.” He pointed at the scar. You didn’t flinch, and you could see the joy in his face, as he wet his lips, turning his attention to Bucky.

”Tell me James…When you look at her do you see a failed mission? Or the woman you supposedly love? You ever get that itch in the back of your head when you’re laying in bed together at night to finish the job?” Bucky’s hands twitched against his thighs, his jaw locking so tightly that it looked like it was going to shatter. Orkolov sat back.

”I mean…It must be torture, having her so close all the time. Being reminded everyday that you failed your duties to HYDRA.” Bucky’s breath came out slow and measured, but you could feel the rage radiating off of him. You wanted to put your hand on his thigh, but you knew better than to do that at the moment, as he brought his attention to you.

”It must eat away at you sometimes hmm? That no matter how much you love him, no matter how much you may trust him, there will always be that part of him that was given the order to kill you…And that it lives inside him.” You swallowed.

”He wouldn’t do that.” You replied, trying to convince yourself that it was the truth. You wanted to believe it, but there was still the hesitation inside your chest. Orkolov exhaled, a sharp laugh escaping his lips.

”Let me give it to you straight…You can love a blade, you can hold it close, and call it yours, but at the end of the day…It’s always going to be forged to cut. Just like James over here, will always be The Winter Soldier. Plain, and simple.” He smirked, looking over at Bucky, seeing the way his eyes had darkened, “And what will you do…When he finally does what he was commanded to do? When that blade you’re sure of is yours turns in your hand and carves you up all over again?” The words barely had time to settle before your body reached.

Your fist cracked against Orkolov’s jaw, snapping his head to the side with a sickening force, knocking him out of his seat. Bucky didn’t flinch, he didn’t even move a muscle, no protests, no getting up to hold you back, he was blank, almost completely void of anything. The room rang with the sound of a tooth skidding across the floor, and him landing hard against the ground with a thud. For a second there was only silence, you couldn’t feel your hands, it was like you went numb, but you didn’t care. You stood up from your seat, going over to Orkolov who groaned loudly, turning himself over, pressing his hand against his bloodied mouth, a gap showing from where you had knocked his tooth out. He looked up at you, with satisfaction in his eyes, as he coughed, letting the little blood droplets huff out into the air.

“I knew you had it in you.” He sputtered out. You crouched down, wrapping your hand around his neck, pulling him up so he was eye to eye with you.

”If you keep talking I’m going to snap your fucking neck. You may think they never completed me, but I still have the same serum running through my veins, and it burns for the kill. Especially when people run their mouths.” He choked as your hand tightened around his throat, “Now. We came here for information, so keep your end of the bargain, or else I’ll knock the rest of your fucking teeth out of your face.” He wheezed loudly, coughing up blood, the droplets hitting your face, as he moved his head up and down. Your grip on his neck loosened, allowing him to take a breath.

”There’s…A shipment coming in, “ He started, turning his head to spit out some blood that flooded his mouth from where you had knocked out his tooth, “High level assets…The remaining soldiers from HYDRA.” Your hand tightened around his throat again.

”Don’t fucking lie to me.” You spat, feeling him squirm, his hand coming up to hold your wrist, his blood smearing on your skin.

”I’m…I’m not. There’s still…They still exist.” He squeaked out, “Just like you guys.”

”When is it arriving?” He coughed again, more blood splattering on you.

”T-Tomorrow, m-midnight. At the ports on the o-outskirts of the city.” Your grip loosed on his neck, feeling his fingers trembling against your wrists as he struggled to swallow. His jaw was starting to swell up and you could see a faint bruise beginning to form on the side where you had punched, but in his eyes, it still held amusement, that unsettling satisfaction that he had made you crack. It frightened you that you had let the rage come through you again, something that you had tried so hard to control. The serum had given you this innate bloodlust, and you had pushed it down for so long you thought it was gone, then this happened and it felt like you were back to square one. You forced yourself to breathe deeply, as you threw Orkolov back down onto the floor, releasing his neck and knocking the wind out of him in the process.

You turned your head towards Bucky, but he still hadn’t moved, it was like he wasn’t even breathing, his eyes staring off in the distance. You took a step towards him.

”Bucky?” Orkolov let out a hoarse chuckle.

”Look at him…Poor little James, trapped in that head of his. I must’ve gotten to him just like I got to you.” He commented. With your pulse still hammering in your ears, all you could feel was wrong, absolutely sick to your stomach, and you ignored what he had said. Not wanting to get sucked back into the violence that was wanting to come out again. You took another step towards Bucky, crouching down in front of him.

“Bucky…Hey.” Your voice was soft, trying to get his attention, his eyes glazed over, unfocused and locked elsewhere. He still hadn’t moved, nor breathed properly, and it was beginning to worry you. You reached out, your fingers grazing his knee.

”Bucky.” You tried again, making your voice firmer, hoping you could break through whatever fog he was trapped in. Slowly you moved just a bit closer, lifting your hand up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his stubble. His skin was burning hot, but there was no reaction to your cold hands pressing against him, no flicker of recognition in those ice blue eyes. This wasn’t shock or anger that was fueling him to be this way, it was as if he had completely shut down, turned himself off for the world like it was to save himself from doing something stupid.

“Come on…” You whispered, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. Orkolov groaned.

”You think you’re gonna miraculously pull him out of this? It’s not up to him anymore.” You glanced over your shoulder at him, watching as he attempted to sit up.

”If you move a single muscle, or say another word…I’m gonna break every bone in your body. Do you understand?” You growled, turning your attention back to Bucky, sliding your fingers down to hold his wrists.

”You’re okay…You’re safe Bucky…I’m safe. You’re in control, Bucky. I know you are.” You could feel your throat tightening, seeing the absence behind his eyes. Your hands squeezed his wrists gently, forcing your presence into him, into whatever place he went to so that he could avoid the pain.

“I need you to hear me,” You whispered, desperation bleeding through your voice now, “You’re not there anymore, you’re not him…You’re Bucky Barnes, now come back to me for the love of god!” Finally, Bucky flinched. It was barely a movement at all, but you felt it against your hands, the slight twitch of his fingers on your skin.

“Come on…” You coxed, tightening your hands on his wrists a little bit more. Your heart was pounding, watching the way his expression slowly shifted, like he was trying to break through, then suddenly you heard it.

”…Y/N?” Your breath caught for a moment, your hands immediately meeting his face against, trembling against his overheated skin.

”Yes, yes it’s me. You’re okay.” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, watching as his eyes began to dart around the room, taking in the environment around him, before settling on you again, seeing your skin splattered with blood.

”Jesus Christ what the hell happened?!” His hands came up to hold onto your wrists, pulling them away from him, seeing one of your hands stained with blood as well, “Are you hurt?!”

“It’s not mine, I’m okay Bucky.” His eyes snapped over toward Orkolov, who was crumpled on the floor, smirking through the pain.

”Missed quite the show…She’s got a hell of a right hook. Guess HYDRA really did do something right with her.” He commented, spitting out more blood. He looked back at you, surprised.

”I got what we needed. We have to get out of here though. I will tell you everything when we get someplace safe, okay?” He nodded, slowly getting up from his seat.

”Running away already? And here I was thinking we would have more time together.” Orkolov said, trying to push himself up onto his hands. Bucky stepped past you, moving towards him slowly, before standing above him.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll meet again, and next time, I don’t think you’re going to be getting out alive.”

——————-

When you arrived back at the hotel you didn’t know whether or not you wanted to shower first or call Maria to convey all the information to her. At this point you felt like every bone in your body was on fire, edging with this adrenaline you hadn’t experienced since HYDRA gave you the serum. It was almost mind numbing at this point, and you couldn’t imagine if this was what Bucky would experience when he was The Winter Soldier.

You took your phone out of your purse, dialing the only number that was in it. Hill picked up after the second ring.

”Tell me you have something.” You reached up to rub your face, feeling the crusted blood peeling off.

”There’s a shipment coming in tomorrow at midnight at the ports in the outskirts of the city. Orkolov said there are going to be HYDRA soldiers in it. The remaining ones…” There was a pause.

“Are you sure?” She asked, as you kicked off your shoes, glancing over at Backy who was standing at the kitchen counter, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

“I’m positive. He was too scared to lie.” You commented, moving towards the bedroom, feeling Bucky’s eyes following, as you closed the door.

”That’s good. I’ll have a team en route to you guys by tomorrow evening.” Your grip tightened on the phone.

”Maria…I don’t think it’s a good idea that Bucky and I continue this mission. I don’t think it’s good if we come to the port for the shipment…Tonight wasn’t good for either of us, and with HYDRA being involved…I really don’t think we are in the right state to be there.” There was a long pause as you looked at your hand, seeing the dark crimson blood caked on it.

“You’re asking to pull out?” Her voice was even, but there was a hint of sharpness, maybe even disappointment in it. You pressed your fingers to your temple.

”We’re both compromised Maria…I almost killed Orkolov tonight…And Bucky basically dissociated because he got into his head. We can’t be there Maria…Please don’t send us there.” You begged, your voice cracking at the thought that you were both going to be faced with your past. Maria exhaled slowly.

”Okay…I’ll get you both out, but there is going to be a delay. Probably a day or two. Can you handle that?” You nodded.

”Yes, we can handle that, I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Maria was quiet for a second.

”Just get some rest, and I’ll send you the information when everything is confirmed. Stay put and stay off the radar.”

“Understood.” Then she hung up without another word, leaving you in the silence of the bedroom. You dropped your phone onto the bed, before opening the door, seeing that Bucky was still at the counter, nursing his drink.

”Maria is going to pull us out.” You announced softly, coming out of the room. He looked over at you, his jaw tightening slightly.

”When?” You moved towards him.

”She said about a day or two, she’s going to text the information when she gets confirmation.” Bucky nodded, as he brought the glass of whiskey up to his lips, knocking back the rest of the drink in one go, putting it back down onto the counter.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, watching you closely, focusing on the little splatters of blood on your skin.

“Like I’m on fire…I haven’t had this much adrenaline going through me in a while.” You commented, moving closer to him, “How are you feeling?” He shook his head.

”Like my brain is swollen…I feel absolutely exhausted, all I want to do is shower, and try to sleep at this point.” You watched the tension in Bucky’s shoulders settle slightly, the adrenaline crash becoming inevitable.

“You can go first if you’d like. I can wait.” Bucky shook his head, a small laugh coming out of him.

”You should definitely go first…You’re the one that has the blood on you.” He pointed out, motioning to your face and body. In the light you saw the smudges on your arms from where Orkolov held, the remnants of the night clinging to you like a second skin.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You admitted, rubbing at your arms, as you turned on your heel, moving towards the bathroom, pausing for a moment just before you walked down the corridor, feeling Bucky’s eyes on you still. You glanced back at him.

“How about you come with me,” You murmured before you could think twice about it. His eyebrows raised, caught off guard by your offer, not sure if he was hearing you right.

”What did you just say?” He asked, his throat tightening on his words.

”Come with me,” You repeated, softer this time, tilting your head, “Unless you’d rather sit out here alone.” Bucky exhaled through his nose, shaking his head, but the heat in his eyes told you he didn’t need any convincing. Wordlessly, he pushed himself off the counter and followed you down the corridor.

You turned on the bathroom light, motioning for Bucky to come in before closing the door behind you, turning to look at him. He stood in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets, looking down at you, letting his gaze run over the mess that you had become throughout the night. He sighed, bringing one hand up to rub his forehead.

”Should I turn on the hot water?” He asked, trying to break the silence up a little bit. You nodded, watching him slide open the glass door, and reach for the faucet, turning it counterclockwise. The sound of rushing water filled the space, steam already beginning to slowly rise, making the air in the room just a little bit heavier. He turned himself back towards you, glancing down at your dress briefly, as he brought his hands up to start working on the buttons of his dress shirt, the fabric parting inch by inch.

He was massive. Even after everything, even knowing the strength that came with the bulk of him, it still sent a shiver through you to really see him like this. The thick swell of his shoulders and arms, the defined cut of muscle beneath his skin, every inch of him carved from war and survival. His chest was wide, a few old scars slashing through the ridges of muscle, his vibranium arm gleaming under the bathroom light. His abs flexed with each breath, tight, strong, leading down to the deep v-cut at his hips. He pushed off the shirt completely, throwing it to the side, as he looked at you with anticipation burning behind his gleaming eyes. Slowly, you reached behind you, your fingers finding the zipper of your dress, bringing it down with an agonizing pace, feeling the fabric loosening around you. The dress slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. You saw his fingers twitch at his side, as his gaze dragged over your body, trying to commit it all to memory. Your arms wrapped around your stomach, not out of embarrassment but from the weight of the way he was drinking in your body, the curvature of your breasts, the faint little scars that contrasted lightly against your skin, the way that your figure was just perfectly yours…It made his heart clench slightly, and suddenly he started to feel like he was overdressed.

His hands went to his belt buckle first, gently unlatching it, keeping his eyes on you as he did it. He slid the leather from the loops, dropping it to the tile with a clink. His fingers quickly returned to his pants to unbutton them, pushing the fabric off his hips and stepping out of it, leaving him in just his briefs. The both of you continued to look at each other, as you slowly closed the space, letting your nerves stir in your stomach.

You reached out, grazing the hard ridges of his stomach, barely touching, just lightly tracing the dense muscle there. You could feel him tense beneath your touch, his hand coming up to slide around your waist, bringing you just a little bit closer to him, the steam thickening around the room.

“…You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, bringing his vibranium hand up to trace down the jagged scar in the center of your chest, the coolness causing your skin to perk up against him, his touch didn’t linger there for long, as it moved off to your ribs, then up to the underside of your breast, cupping it gently, his thumb lightly brushing over your nipple, a soft gasp escaping your throat. A smirk tugged up onto his lips, leaning down so that his mouth was just above the mound of your breast, his hot breath clinging to your skin, savoring the moment before he finally took your nipple into his mouth. You gasped louder this time, your fingers pressing into the muscle of his torso, as his tongue flicked over the sensitive peak, his arm tightening around you to pull you closer to him, sucking gently, pulling his mouth off to blow against the wetness he had created.

”Jesus Bucky…” You moaned, as his mouth went to the opposite breast, wrapping around the perked nipple, nibbling slightly to elicit another gasp from you. Your fingers trailed down his abdomen, slipping under the waistband of his briefs for a moment, teasing him just like he was teasing you, as a groan radiated against your chest, and his fingers dug into your back. He took his mouth off your breast, trembling slightly, your hands trailing further beneath the waistband, his eyes looking up at you, seeing his pupils completely blown out from the tension, as you felt his erection against your palm. His lashes fluttered shut, and his cheeks turned a cherry red, tilting his head back as your hand wrapped around him, spreading his precum along his shaft as you began to slowly stroke.

“Oh fuck Y/N…” He gasped, bringing his hand to your chin, tilting your head up so he could crash his lips into yours. There was such a desperate intensity in the kiss, as he stole the air from your lungs, his tongue immediately tracing your bottom lip, begging for you to open for him, his hips rolling into your touch. You opened for him, feeling the hotness of his tongue against yours, as his hand slid off from your back, and slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, earning a moan from you, your legs parting slightly for him. You were already wet for him, as his fingers trailed over the slick arousal, teasing your dripping entrance before pushing two fingers in with ease. You almost screamed at the sensation that rocked through you, as his thick fingers stretched you out. He pulled away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, his vibranium hand coming up to cup your face, as you started to stroke him faster, with him trying to catch up to your pace, his fingers curling inside you. You closed your eyes tightly, your mouth dropping open as you moaned.

“That’s it…” Bucky murmured, breathless, trying his best to remain dominant, his lips grazing your jaw, “Let me hear you.” He whispered, biting the skin just below your ear. You could feel your pace falter, getting distracted by your own pleasure, feeling this tension beginning to build in your stomach, coiling around every inch of your body, your hand tightening around him. He gasped, biting into the sensitive flesh of your neck, sucking gently on the mark to soothe the sting.

”If you keep doing that I’m not going to last.” He whispered, shuddering against you.

“Then we should…” You paused, feeling your legs shake beneath you from the pleasure that wrecked through your entire body, “We should move to the shower then.” You suggested, looking up at him, your eyes glazed over, just as lust filled as his. He nodded, slowly taking his fingers out of you, pushing your underwear down, with you doing the same to him. The undergarments pooled at both your feet as he wrapped an arm around your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, a surprised gasp leaving your lips, your legs wrapping around his waist, as he brought you to the shower.

The first thing you felt was the boiling water hitting your back, spreading down your skin as he pressed you slowly against the warm porcelain wall, reaching with one hand to close the shower door, the other one anchoring you against him.

His lips trailed down the column of your throat, peppering kisses along your collarbone. He was unrushed with his movements, savoring every inch he got to explore, as his hand caressed the curve of your hip. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with praise, almost like you were his religion, or the most sacred thing he had ever touched. His breath mixed with yours as he captured your mouth in another heated kiss, the both of you moaning in unison, your hands tangling into his damp hair. The taste of him made your head spin. The both of you felt as if you were drowning in each other, but neither of you came up for air, his hand coming up to hold the side of your face. He was the first to pull back, his lips brushing yours one more time before his thumb traced along your swollen bottom lip, as the steam curled around the both of you.

“Open,” He said softly. There was no dominance in his voice, it was just a quiet request, something that was optional, but you obeyed anyways, parting your lips for him. He held your jaw gently, as if afraid you’d pull away, but when you didn’t, he let the moment stretch, suspended in tension, in anticipation, before he let a delicate stream of saliva fall from his lips, into your mouth. The act felt like something sacred, something intimate, as his thumb brushed against your chin, his gaze never leaving yours, watching you swallow. The corner of his mouth quirked up, just barely, before he dipped his head, capturing your lips in another deep, slow kiss. His tongue traced your bottom lip, as if savoring the taste of you before he pulled back, his breath warm against your mouth.

“I need to taste you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, his grip tightening around your thigh, guiding your leg off the side of his waist, helping you regain your balance. His eyes held yours for just a moment, a silent exchange of desire and want, before he leaned forward, kissing along your collarbone, licking the droplets that slid down your body, sucking gently on the skin right at the bottom of your neck. His hands settled on your hips, pressing his fingers into your damp skin, as he continued his journey, exploring every inch of skin he could reach, and you were at his mercy, not that you minded of course. When he got on his knees in front of you it nearly made you choke, his lips kissing along your hip bone, his hand sliding behind your thigh, squeezing it gently, coaxing you to open for him.

”You’re already shaking…” He commented, his lips finding their way to your inner thigh, nipping at the sensitive skin, wanting to mark you wherever he could so when he woke up in the morning he would know that this wasn’t just a dream. Your fingers threaded into his soaked hair, tugging just enough to cause shivers to rush down his body, silently pleading for him. His darkened eyes flickered up at you, his pupils completely blown out, not a speck of blue in sight, as he brought his lips up to your aching heat, placing a gentle kiss, before his tongue dragged along the entire area, your arousal coating his lips.

Your gasped echoed through the shower, feeling him press you against the wall so that you were secure with no possibility of falling, his mouth now completely consuming you whole. His tongue moved with such precision, tracing slow, sinful strokes along you, making sure he was paying attention to every spot that could earn him another moan, or hair pull from you. He groaned against you, his fingers digging into the backs of your thighs.

”Fuck…Y/N. You’re so goddamn perfect. So warm…So fucking sweet.” He whispered, his tongue dragging through your slickness again, “You’re wrecking me…” The vibration of his voice against you made you press your nails into his scalp, shuddering above him.

”Bucky…” You whimpered, pressing him closer, feeling the wet heat of his mouth driving you closer and closer to the breaking point, your hips rolling against his mouth, feeling the heat in your stomach beginning to boil.

“You taste so fucking good…I want to stay here forever.” You moaned at his words, heat flaring through your body, the sound of his desperation causing your heart to flutter, his tongue flicking against your clit.

“You like hearing how much I need you?” Your head fell back against the tile, pulling on his hair again.

”Yes.” You gasped, the pressure inside you mounting in a quickening excess “God, Bucky I love it.” He growled, sending another rush of pleasure through your body, his fingers digging into the backs of your thighs.

”You’re so wet for me…” He murmured, his breath hot against your core, “And I’m going to have every single drop.” One hand slipped from behind your thigh, reaching up to hold your breast, palming it gently, as he slipped his tongue inside you, moving it slowly. You felt like you were on the brink of collapse, all the sensations invading your entire body. He groaned, feeling you push against his mouth, his grip on your breast tightening just a little bit, as his thumb ran over your nipple. You unraveled one of your hands from his hair, bringing it up to hold the back of his.

“Bucky I’m…” You couldn’t manage to get your sentence out as you trembled against him, your breath hitching in your throat.

”I know…You going to come for me sweetheart?” He asked, his mouth now focusing directly on your clit, finding a pace that was so fast you could barely compose yourself before the pressure snapped inside you, your grip on his hand tightening, your nails digging into the skin as you cried out, the overstimulation ceasing your heart. Bucky wasn’t lying when he said he was going to have every single drop, his mouth moved against you like he was starved for it. Your body was trembling beneath him, as he pulled away slowly, looking up at you; his eyes wild…Worshipful even. You collapsed against the wall gasping for air, your eyes roaming over his face. His lips were swollen, covered in your arousal, his hair a mess from where you had pulled on it. He smiled at you, letting out a giddy laugh as he kissed the inside of your thigh, before bringing his forehead to your stomach, his hot breath cooling the droplets against your skin.

”Jesus Christ…” He muttered, half in disbelief, half in complete adoration, as he pressed kisses against every inch of skin he could reach, “You’re still shaking.” He commented, looking up again.

“You absolutely wrecked me.” You replied, your hands reaching down to cup his face, your thumbs running along his cheekbones as he leaned into your touch.

“Mission accomplished.” He joked, feeling your hands guiding him up so he could stand again. He raised from his kneeled position, his hands roaming your body, as he pulled you against him, so you could feel how hard he was for you.

“Bucky…I really need you right now.” You confessed, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips. He pulled back for a moment.

”Are you sure?” You nodded instantly, feeling his hands behind your thighs grip, and then effortlessly lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the tiled wall. His arms cradled your body like you were the most precious thing he had ever touched, and that wasn’t far off from the truth.

“I need to hear you say-.” You grabbed his face, forcing him to look in your eyes completely.

”I need you Bucky…Please.” That was all he needed to hear, as his hand left the small of your back, lining himself up with your entrance, your gaze falling on his reaction as he slowly pushed himself into you, his jaw slacking open at the warmth, his eyelids fluttering closed. He leaned forward, placing a kiss against your neck, continuing to push, the both of you savoring the sensation of going slow, taking in the feeling of being stretched.

“H-Holy fuck…” He let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head, “It’s like heaven.” He whispers, looking up at you with his pupils blown out, amazed by the sensation of you fluttering around him, his fingertips digging into your hip as he continued to push forward until he bottomed out in you, a satisfied sigh escaping into the air.

”You feel so good…I just wanna stay inside you like this.” His words sent a shiver up your spine, your nails lightly scraping against the broad muscles of his shoulders. His body was a furnace against yours, and the hot water that cascaded above the both of you made everything feel like it was on fire. His vibranium hand moved up your side, his thumb brushing over your ribcage, then moving up to cup your breast. His lips found their way to the curve of your jaw, brushing over your skin, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses wherever he could. He slowly pulled out just a little before rocking back into you, slowly picking up the pace, keeping his eyes locked onto yours, trying his best to keep the unhurried rhythm he had found. With every thrust it was like he pushed deeper, making sure you could feel every inch of him, your nails digging into his back, dragging down.

“Bucky, you feel so fucking good. “ You moaned, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his as he continued to roll his hips up into you, adjusting the angle a bit so that his cock was dragging across your g-spot, a mangled gasp coming out of your throat at the mind-numbing sensation that shot through you. Bucky felt everything, the way your body clenched around him, the heat of your ragged breath against his lips, the way your nails dug into his shoulders just a little more, and the way you closed your eyes tightly trying to focus on not getting overwhelmed with how he was making you feel.

“You like when I fuck you like this?” He asked, rutting back up into you with just a little more force than before.

”Yes!” You practically yelled, as one of your hands came off his shoulder and tangled it into his hair, “Don’t stop Bucky, please don’t fucking stop.” You begged, desperate for the snapping of his hips against yours to continue. He placed a soft kiss on your lips, pulling back.

”I wouldn’t think of it sweetheart.” He said, a dazed smile appearing on his puffy lips, glancing down at the way he was sliding in and out of you so perfectly, before returning his gaze back up to yours, “You’re so wet for me Y/N, I can’t believe how fucking good it feels…I think I’m gonna want you like this everyday now.” There was such need and longing in his voice that you felt yourself melting against him.

”Bucky, I…I fucking want it all. I want you to ruin me. Take me as your own. Please.”You cried out, as he thrusted hard at the words that fell from your mouth, the tip of his cock grazing your cervix.

“I can do that.” He whispered, his lips finding your neck, pressing you against the wall just a little more as he picked up his pace, kissing along your pulse, letting his teeth graze your skin before sinking in just enough to cause a jolt to shoot through you. You tilted your head back, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the bathroom as he grunted against your neck, his hand grabbing tightly on your thigh.

“God you’re making me lose my mind.” He moaned, breathless from the fast pace he was thrusting into you with, the coil in your stomach tightening, twisting, and burning with a fury of a thousand suns.

”I’m going to come again B-Bucky.” You could barely string that simple sentence together as your body arched into his.

”I know. I’m gonna ruin you just like you asked.” He whispered, his lips finding yours, as the both of you opened your mouths, his tongue teasing yours, his hips rolling at just the right angle so he could drag another moan out of you.

“Bucky…” His name left your lips like a prayer, your back slipping up the wall with each harsh thrust. There was no rhythm at this point, it was just mindless, and all consumed.

“I’ve got you baby. Be a good girl…Come for me.” It only took another deep, perfectly angled thrust before you shattered around him, your body clenching, trembling, lost in wave after wave of pleasure, your walls clenching tightly. Bucky followed right after, his unstable rhythm breaking as he groaned against your neck, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he let go, his grip on you digging into the sensitive flesh of your hips as he buried himself as deep as he could, filling you up with ropes of cum.

The only sounds left were ragged breaths between you, the hot shower water still falling over the both of you. Bucky didn’t move right away, he slowly took his teeth off your shoulder, observing the dark red marks that he had left, a satisfied smile pulling up on his lips, peppering soft, gentle kisses along the damage. You sighed as he leaned back just enough to look at you, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek.

”You’re so fucking incredible.” He whispered, pecking your lips. You smiled at him, your fingers brushing over his shoulders, feeling his arms tightening around you.

“We should wash off…Then give the bed a test drive.” You suggested. He laughed.

”Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

[magical-reid]

Yours, Whether You Know it or Not

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Setting: Falcon and the Winter Soldier Timeline

Word Count: 1K

Summary: You’ve been running missions with Sam and Bucky for a while now, and everything was fine—until John Walker started showing up and taking an interest in you. Bucky isn’t having it. Not because he’s jealous. Definitely not because he’s jealous. He just doesn’t trust Walker. Right?

Unwanted Attention

You weren’t sure how long you’d been walking, but you knew Bucky was beside you—silent, brooding, and absolutely vibrating with tension.

Again.

It had started a week ago. After the whole Flag Smashers fiasco in Munich, John Walker and his annoying sidekick, Lemar, had started appearing more often. They were always just there, cocky and insufferable, flashing that stolen shield like they had any right to it. But that wasn’t what had been bothering Bucky the most.

It was Walker’s interest in you.

Ever since you’d first been introduced, Walker had made it painfully obvious that he found you attractive. The first time, it was a comment—something about how you were “too pretty to be running around with these two grumps.” You’d rolled your eyes, but Sam had snickered, and Bucky had muttered something under his breath that you hadn’t quite caught.

Then, it became touches—a hand on your lower back, a brush of fingers against yours when he handed you something, a lingering grip on your wrist after a mission. It was all casual enough that you couldn’t really call him out on it, but you weren’t an idiot. Walker was testing boundaries. And every time, Bucky got pissed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

At first, you thought it was just his general hatred for Walker. But then you noticed other things.

Bucky started standing closer. His arm would “accidentally” brush against yours when you were walking. He’d place a firm hand on your back before Walker could, guiding you away without a word. And, most notably, whenever Walker so much as looked at you, Bucky’s jaw would tighten, his fists clenching like he was barely keeping himself from decking the guy.

Which led to this moment right now.

You, Bucky, and Sam were walking back to the safe house after a tense meeting with Walker and Lemar—one in which Walker had, yet again, spent way too much time trying to get your attention.

“You don’t have to act like I’m gonna drop dead if he talks to me, you know,” you said finally, breaking the silence.

Bucky didn’t look at you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on.” You stopped walking, turning to face him. “Every time Walker so much as breathes in my direction, you look like you’re about to rip his throat out.”

Bucky scoffed, looking away. “I just don’t trust him.”

Sam, who had been trailing a few steps behind, smirked. “Right. That’s what this is about.”

Bucky shot him a glare, but Sam just shrugged.

“Man, you’re jealous,” Sam said. “It’s written all over your grumpy little face.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You’re so jealous.”

“I—” Bucky cut himself off, taking a deep breath like he was trying to calm himself. “He’s an asshole.”

“No arguments there,” you said. “But if you don’t like him flirting with me, there’s a pretty easy solution, Barnes.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to yours. “Yeah?”

You smiled innocently. “You could just tell me why it really bothers you.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, blue eyes dark and unreadable. Then, with a sharp shake of his head, he muttered, “Let’s go,” and kept walking.

Sam sighed. “Man, you are hopeless.”

You didn’t disagree.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A Game of Possession

The next time you saw Walker, things escalated.

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission—stakeout, gather intel, get out. But, as always, Walker found a way to insert himself where he wasn’t wanted.

“You know,” Walker said, sidling up beside you, “we’d work a lot better together if you ditched these two and joined Lemar and me.”

Bucky, who was standing just a few feet away, tensed immediately.

You sighed. “Not interested.”

“Come on,” Walker pressed, flashing that annoyingly charming smile. “I’d take good care of you.”

Before you could retort, a heavy, warm weight settled around your waist.

Bucky.

His metal arm wrapped around you in an unmistakably possessive gesture, tugging you snugly against his side. His fingers splayed against your hip, and when he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous.

“She’s already taken care of.”

The air went thick with tension. Walker’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered.

“Oh yeah?” he challenged. “By who?”

Bucky’s grip tightened. “Me.”

Your heart stopped.

Walker raised an eyebrow. “Huh. Didn’t peg you for the type to settle down, Barnes.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “Maybe you don’t know as much as you think you do.”

Walker let his gaze linger on you for a beat too long before smirking. “Alright, alright. No need to get your vibranium arm in a twist.”

And with that, he strolled off.

Bucky didn’t move. Neither did you.

Finally, you found your voice. “So. That was… something.”

Bucky let out a breath through his nose. Slowly, his hand eased away, though his fingers brushed lightly against your side before leaving entirely. “Sorry.”

You turned to look at him. “Are you?”

He hesitated. Then, in a rare moment of honesty, he admitted, “No.”

You bit your lip, heartbeat unsteady. “So… am I actually taken?”

Bucky exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Do you want to be?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you stepped forward, closing the space he’d left between you.

“I wouldn’t mind,” you murmured.

Bucky swallowed hard. His eyes flickered to your lips. His fingers twitched at his side like he wanted to touch you again.

Before either of you could do anything about it, Sam’s voice rang out from across the way.

“Hey, lovebirds! We’ve got work to do!”

You pulled back, trying not to grin. Bucky just sighed.

“This is your fault,” he muttered.

You smirked. “If you say so, boyfriend.”

Bucky groaned, but the tips of his ears burned red. And you had a feeling that, jealous or not, he wasn’t going to let the title go.

Not anymore.

[brunchable]

𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

Part Two Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Heavy Mutual Pinining, Heavy Sexual Tension, Longing, Yearning, Right Person-Wrong Time. Friends to Lovers, a bit Angsty but Happy Ending. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky being obsessed with tiddies, unprotected piv, creampie. Summary: Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt. A/N: This is a Two Shot, so another one will be coming soon.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917 @classicrebound

The first time it really hits is when you see him with her.

It’s a crowded room, warm bodies pressed close together, the low hum of music barely louder than the thudding in your chest as you watch Bucky Barnes wrap his arm around the waist of a woman you don’t know. 

She’s beautiful, of course—someone you'd expect to be by his side. Her laugh is soft, melting into his as he leans in close, whispering something that lights her face up, his lips brushing her ear like he can’t help himself.

You glance down at your drink, the sudden bitterness pooling in your throat harder to swallow than the wine. You tell yourself to look away, that it’s none of your business who he holds, but you can’t. Every time you look up, he’s there, still wrapped around her, laughing at something she’s said, his hand resting on her back in a way that feels too familiar, too tender. You know that look—the way his fingers splay protectively, pulling her close like she belongs to him. Like he’s finally let someone in.

It’s torture, standing there with a smile plastered on your face, pretending not to notice. Pretending that it doesn’t crush you.

Because when you’re alone—when you’re single—he’s taken. And when he’s got nobody, you do. Every single time. You’ve gotten used to seeing him across rooms, with someone else in his arms, with that look in his eyes that you wish, desperately, could be meant for you.

And he’s always looking at you that same way, that glance just a second too long, that warmth held back by a fragile thread of restraint. Just enough to keep the lines from blurring.

Tonight, he finally looks away.

When he glances up, catches sight of you, his smile falters. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, and something soft flickers in his eyes—something like regret, the same regret you carry. But her hand tightens on his arm, and he turns back to her, his smile returning, wider than before. You hate how easily he can pull away from you, how quickly he can make you feel invisible.

“Hey, Bucky,” you manage, your voice steady though it feels like your chest is caving in.

He looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Hey.” His gaze drops, and for a second, you think he might actually say something, that he might admit that this hurts him too. But then she shifts closer, and he wraps his arm around her more firmly, giving you a look that’s both a dare and a dismissal.

“This is Emily,” he says, and she gives you a polite, too-sweet smile.

“Oh.” You swallow, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “I didn’t know… I hadn’t realized you were…” You can’t finish, the words catching in your throat.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s tone is almost too casual, too final. “We’re together.”

The finality of it slices through you, sharp and clean. You nod, trying to hold onto whatever scraps of dignity you have left, but all you can manage is, “Well… congratulations. I’m… I’m glad you’re happy.”

There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—anger? Hurt? But his jaw tightens, and he nods, looking away as if to spare you. 

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” he says, his voice steady, controlled.

Emily pulls him closer, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she glances at you. 

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” she says, and there’s a challenge in her tone, a silent declaration that she’s won, that whatever you think you had with him is nothing compared to this. She presses a kiss to his cheek, her fingers curling possessively around his shoulder as she tilts her head, catching his gaze.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your voice hollow. “Yeah, he is.”

And for a brief, desperate second, you think he might look at you—really look at you, see how much this is tearing you apart. But he doesn’t. His gaze is on her, soft and full of warmth, a look he’s given you a thousand times. And it feels like he’s choosing her, like he’s making the decision to let go of whatever fragile orbit kept you two circling each other all this time.

You turn away, trying to hold yourself together, but the ache in your chest is all-consuming, a raw, relentless reminder that he’s moved on. That he’s chosen her.

And as you walk away, you can still hear their laughter, the sound twisting like a knife in your chest, leaving you wondering if he was ever yours to lose.

And then one night, fate flips, and you’re the one with someone new by your side.

It’s been months since you last saw Bucky. You assumed he was out of your life for good, until tonight, when you walk into the cozy warmth of a private dining room in a restaurant, your hand firmly held by your boyfriend Andrew. It’s Steve’s dinner party, a small gathering of friends, and the lighthearted chatter fills the air, mixing with the warm glow from the dimmed overhead lights.

You’re laughing at something your boyfriend said as you step into the room, but your laughter dies in your throat when you see him.

Bucky is seated across the table, leaning back casually in his chair, but the moment his eyes meet yours, a spark flickers there—surprise, mingled with something darker, something that quickens your pulse. You hadn’t expected him to be here tonight, and judging by the way his gaze lingers, he hadn’t expected you either.

Steve stands, grinning as he greets you and Andrew, and you introduce him to everyone. You smile, trying to seem natural as you move around the table, your hand still resting in your boyfriend’s. But it feels wrong, the warmth of your boyfriend’s fingers against yours suddenly strange, like it doesn’t quite belong.

When you reach Bucky, he stands, his jaw tense, his eyes unwavering as he offers a hand to shake. You almost expect him to make some dry remark, to cover up whatever unspoken tension lies between you. But he’s silent as he grips Andrew’s hand firmly, while looking at you. His fingers are steady, a touch too tight, like he’s barely holding something back.

“So, you’re the boyfriend,” Bucky says, his voice calm but laced with something you can’t quite place.

Your boyfriend laughs, unaware of the tension. “Yeah, I am. And you’re the famous Bucky I keep hearing about.”

Bucky’s lips twitch into a half-smile, but his eyes remain cold. 

“I’m sure you have.” He releases your boyfriend’s hand, his gaze shifting back to you, lingering a second too long before he forces himself to look away.

It should feel like a victory—that, for once, you’re the one who’s found happiness while he’s left to watch. But the second you meet his eyes, the air shifts. You feel the weight of everything unspoken, of the years that have passed with both of you just out of reach, orbiting each other but never colliding.

You take your seat next to your boyfriend, aware of every brush of his arm against yours, every gentle squeeze of his hand on your knee under the table. He leans close, murmuring something soft and sweet, and you offer a small smile, but your focus is entirely on Bucky, sitting across the table, his gaze flickering between you and Andrew, his jaw set with that same restrained tension.

As the night wears on, Bucky remains quiet, only contributing here and there to the conversation, but each time he speaks, his words feel weighted, almost directed at you.

“So,” he says, finally breaking the silence, his voice cutting through the chatter, “I’m guessing you’re happy?”

The question is simple enough, but there’s a challenge hidden beneath it, a question he doesn’t ask outright.

“Yes, I am,” you say, your voice firmer than you feel, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

Your boyfriend glances over, squeezing your hand, unaware of the undercurrents in the room. 

“She’s stuck with me now,” he jokes, nudging you. “No escape.”

You laugh softly, but the sound feels hollow, especially when you catch Bucky’s expression—something dark and raw flashing in his eyes before he schools his features again.

“Good for you both,” Bucky replies, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. “It’s about time.”

There’s a pause, the kind that seems to echo louder than any conversation, and you can feel Bucky’s gaze burning into you, filled with a thousand things he can’t say. Your chest tightens as the weight of everything unsaid settles heavily between you, filling the air with a tension you’re certain everyone can feel.

As people start to leave, you find yourself alone with Bucky by the door. Your boyfriend is across the room, saying goodbyes, and it’s just you and Bucky in the dimly lit entryway, a fragile bubble of space and time.

“So…” His voice is low, almost too soft, his eyes searching yours. “This is it, then?”

There’s a vulnerability in his words that pierces through you, a rawness you’ve never heard before. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to deny it.

You glance away, your voice barely a whisper. “Yep. This is it.”

A shadow crosses his face, and he just stands there, watching you, his gaze heavy. He doesn’t say anything for awhile, his hand lingering just inches from yours, as though he’s contemplating reaching out, breaking whatever boundary lies between you. The air feels thick, and you wonder if he can hear the frantic beat of your heart.

But he lets his hand fall back to his side. 

“Guess there’s nothing left to say,” he murmurs, a bitter edge coloring his voice. His eyes linger on you, as if he’s memorizing every detail, every second of this final, silent goodbye.

You open your mouth, but the words die on your lips, caught between everything you want to say and everything you can’t. You reach out, almost instinctively, but Andrew calls your name from across the room, his voice shattering the fragile stillness.

Bucky’s gaze flickers, and he takes a step back, his expression falling into something guarded. 

“Take care, doll,” he says softly, the words laced with both a goodbye and a promise. His eyes linger on you one last time, and then he’s gone, slipping out into the night.

He’d spent years replacing your lips with so many others, all in an attempt to forget the mark you left on him.

Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled her in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt.

× × × × 

Present

It’s one of those nights, another dinner gathering among friends, the kind that’s almost become routine. You’re already seated in the cozy living room, surrounded by the familiar warmth of Steve’s place. The soft glow of lamps and low bable of conversation wrap around you like a comfortable blanket, and for the first time in a long time, you’re truly at ease.

Beside you, Sam nudges your shoulder. 

“Hey Boo,” he says, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips, “remember when you and Bucky were practically attached at the hip? What happened there?”

The question catches you off guard, and you feel warmth creeping up your neck as a few heads turn, curious eyes glancing your way. You roll your eyes, nudging him back. 

“Leave it to you to bring that up, Sam.”

He chuckles, unrelenting. “C’mon, just saying. You two were tight. I mean, tight.”

You let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling the weight of a few more gazes on you, even if they aren’t pushing the question. 

“It’s… complicated,” you finally say, giving him a look that tells him to drop it. But Sam just chuckles, clearly amused, like he knows something no one else does.

“Complicated.” He echoes with a slow nod, a knowing grin spreading. “Right. Complicated.”

“You’re so annoying,” you mutter, barely suppressing a smile, but you can’t deny the fondness in your tone. Sam just winks, nudging you again, and the others quickly move on, the brief moment of attention fading as conversation flows around you.

And that’s when the front door opens, and you hear his voice.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bucky calls out, his deep voice filling the space effortlessly as he steps in, slightly flushed from the cold outside. His eyes scan the room, and the moment they land on you, you swear the air shifts, that it crackles with something electric, something only the two of you seem to feel.

Your heart stumbles over itself as he walks further into the room, tugging off his jacket and offering smiles and nods to everyone. But it’s like a magnetic pull—his eyes keep flickering back to you, and each time it does, your stomach does a nervous, excited flip.

He looks good. Better than good, really. There’s a slight scruff along his jaw, and his hair falls just so, framing his face in a way that makes you want to reach out and touch it. When he finally reaches the empty chair directly across from you, he stops, fingers lingering on the back of it.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asks, his voice low, and there’s something almost hesitant in his eyes, like he’s waiting for permission to be close to you.

You shake your head, trying to keep your cool, even though every part of you is screaming, yes, sit, sit right here and don’t you dare move.

“No, go ahead,” you reply, hoping your voice sounds steady.

He sits, close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted, and the faint scent of his cologne drifts over, warm and familiar, making your head spin.

As he settles in, he leans slightly closer, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Long time no see.”

“Feels that way, doesn’t it?” you murmur, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. Every subtle movement, every small smile he throws your way feels like it’s weaving a thread around you both, pulling you in.

The conversation around you resumes, but it’s like you’re in a bubble, the two of you orbiting each other again. Every so often, his knee brushes yours under the table, just enough to send a shiver up your spine, to make you bite back a smile. His hand rests on the table between you, his fingers drumming absently, and you find yourself staring at them, remembering every time those hands had nearly, almost touched yours.

After a lull in conversation, he clears his throat, glancing at you sideways. 

“So… where’s the boyfriend?” he asks, almost casually, but you catch the underlying question. His tone is light, but his eyes are cautious, searching yours, looking for an answer he can’t ask outright.

You raise a brow, unable to hide the grin pulling at your lips. 

“Well,” you say, tilting your head slightly as you meet his gaze, “the lack of presence should answer your question.”

For a second, Bucky just stares, and then a slow, dawning smile spreads across his face, his whole expression softening, the guardedness falling away. He looks like he’s holding back from saying something, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the table, his knee pressing just a little more against yours as he leans in.

And before you can think twice, you match his question with your own, barely above a whisper. “And where’s your girlfriend, Bucky?”

“Nonexistent.” he said almost instantly.

His eyes hold yours, and something subtle shifts in them—a hint of a smile playing at his lips, but he doesn’t look away though he plays it off with a small, casual shrug. “Guess I’ve been waiting for the right person.”

You nod, feeling the smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. 

“Nice,” you say, trying to keep it casual, though your heart’s picking up a pace of its own.

“Yeah… nice.” He lets out a quiet chuckle, raising an eyebrow as if he’s catching onto your attempt at nonchalance. 

Deafening silence settles between you, but it’s charged, a silent exchange that makes you feel more breathless than words ever could. Neither of you seems to move, his knee still brushing yours under the table, and it feels like he’s lingering in your space, right on that line between friend and something more. 

You glance around, feeling the tension rise, and blow your bangs out of your eyes, hoping it might ease the knot in your stomach. But when you sneak a look at him, he’s still staring, his gaze solid, unblinking, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of every tiny shift in the air between you. Your cheeks warm, and you look away quickly, pressing your lips together, but it only makes your heart pound harder.

Your cheeks warm instantly, and you quickly look away, focusing hard on the table.

A small smile tugs at his lips, his voice soft. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Your pulse quickens, and you swallow, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. 

“Maybe a little,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

A spark lights in his eyes, and his smile widens, soft but undeniably mischievous. 

“Good,” he murmurs, his knee pressing just a fraction closer to yours, enough to send a thrill up your spine. “Because, for the record… you make me a little nervous too.”

Your heart does a flip, and you feel a grin tug at your lips despite yourself. 

“I make you nervous?” You try to keep the surprise out of your voice, but he just nods, his gaze intense, that teasing warmth settling over his expression.

“Yeah, you do,” he says, his tone light but honest, like he’s been waiting to say it. “Especially when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you ask, barely breathing.

“Like you’re about to bolt… but part of you doesn’t want to.” His voice is low, and his eyes search yours, as if he’s daring you to deny it.

You feel the smile you’ve been holding back break through, your heart racing as the last of the distance between you seems to dissolve. Just as you’re about to respond, a voice calls from the dining room, breaking the tension as everyone calls you both to join.

“Guess we should go, huh?” Bucky lets out a soft chuckle, pulling back just slightly, though his gaze lingers on yours for a heartbeat longer. 

“Yeah,” you manage, feeling a little breathless.

But as you both stand and head to the dining room, his hand brushes yours, just enough for his pinky to link with yours for a brief, secret moment. The warmth of that tiny touch lingers, and you can’t help but feel like something just shifted between you, something new and thrilling, waiting just under the surface.

× × × ×

As you both step into the dining room, Sam raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “There they are,” he teases, his voice just loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. “We were wondering what’s taking so long.”

Heat creeps up your cheeks, and you catch Bucky’s gaze, a subtle, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You feel your pulse quicken, but you don’t say anything, slipping into the room to find only two empty seats—right beside each other.

Bucky gestures to the chair beside him, waiting until you sit before settling in next to you. He settles in beside you, his broad shoulders and steady presence enveloping the space, making you feel smaller.

Conversations swirl around the table, but you’re painfully aware of every tiny shift Bucky makes. The subtle brush of his arm against yours, the steady warmth radiating from his shoulder—it all has your heart racing. His hand rests on the table beside yours, fingers drumming lightly, and your pulse hammers as his knee presses just slightly against yours under the table, a connection so subtle yet electric that it makes your skin tingle.

Then he adjusts his position, angling himself more toward the group—and you. The small movement brings him even closer, and you’re immediately enveloped in his scent, something warm and cedar-like, filling the air around you until it feels almost overwhelming, in the best possible way. You take a slow breath, fighting the urge to close the distance even more, feeling trapped between wanting to be near him and feeling breathless because of it.

As Bucky joins the conversation, you find yourself watching him, captivated by the way he leans in, his voice low and steady, his easy confidence only pulling you in deeper. His lips curve as he speaks, and you can’t help but linger on every detail, the way his eyes light up, the rough timbre of his laugh, every tiny thing about him that’s impossibly distracting.

And then, in the middle of a sentence, his eyes flick back to you, catching you looking. You quickly look away, feeling your cheeks burn as you fixate on your plate, hoping he didn’t notice the way you’d been studying him.

But out of the corner of your eye, you catch the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His pinky grazes yours again, a gentle, teasing touch, sending a thrill up your spine as he continues his conversation, his presence unmistakable and impossible to ignore.

You try to focus on anything else, but his gaze keeps finding you, even when you’re not looking. And with every shared glance, every quiet brush of his fingers, the air grows thicker, charged with something unspoken, as if each tiny touch is daring you to lean in, to close that final distance.

You’re doing everything you can to keep your composure, to focus on the laughter and stories being shared. But Bucky’s presence beside you is inescapable, it’s a thrill that’s leaving you silent, lost in your own thoughts as the night goes on.

Sam’s voice suddenly cuts through, pulling you back to reality. 

“Hey,” he says, smirking as he leans back in his chair, his gaze playful but sharp. “You’re unusually quiet tonight. What’s going on with you?”

Feeling everyone’s eyes on you, you force a small laugh, trying to brush off the tension simmering under your skin. 

“Just… food coma, I guess,” you say, waving a hand and attempting a casual smile. 

Sam raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Food coma? Really?” He drags out the words, as if he’s not buying it for a second, and you can see the teasing glint in his eyes. “Pasta’s got you this speechless?”

Beside you, Bucky’s lips twitch, and you can feel his gaze, that familiar, subtle amusement making it impossible not to blush. You risk a quick glance at him, only to find him looking back with that same knowing smirk, like he can see right through every excuse.

“Maybe she’s just tired of all your talking, Sam,” Bucky says smoothly, draping his arm over the back of your chair as he speaks. The movement is so casual, so effortless, that it almost seems like an afterthought. But the warmth of his arm behind you, his fingers just brushing the curve of your shoulder, makes your heart race in ways you can’t ignore. His tone stays casual, but there’s a hint of laughter in his eyes as he looks at Sam, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a subtle, grounding touch.

Sam raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright. Just thought I’d check,” he says, throwing a playful wink in your direction.

You feel yourself sink back just slightly, leaning into the warmth of his arm, and it’s impossible to ignore the way his fingers stay near your shoulder, steady and unassuming but unmistakably there. The conversations resume around you, but the space between you and Bucky feels even smaller, the quiet thrill of his touch pulling you in.

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping so only you can hear. 

“That food coma excuse was almost convincing,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with playful challenge as he watches your reaction.

× × × ×

As the night winds down, people start to gather their things, saying their goodbyes. You slip on your coat, waiting for Sam to finish up his goodbyes, but he suddenly turns to Steve with a grin.

“Hey, Rogers,” Sam says, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “How about we hit that bar down the street? Just a quick nightcap.”

You raise an eyebrow, deadpanning as you fold your arms. “Seriously, Sam?”

He flashes you an unapologetic grin, shrugging. “What? You’re always saying you’re an independent woman. I figured a little alone time wouldn’t hurt.”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head, muttering, “You’re an asshole.”

Sam just laughs, looking over his shoulder. 

“Hey, maybe Bucky can give you a lift. It’ll be like old times.” He gives you a wink, completely ignoring the way your cheeks warm.

You glance at Bucky, trying to keep your expression neutral. “It’s fine, really,” you say quickly. “I’ll just grab an Uber.”

“Suit yourself,” Sam says, grabbing his jacket and heading out with Steve. “But you know Bucky’s free.” He gives you one last smirk before slipping out the door, leaving you standing there with Bucky, who’s leaning casually against the wall, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Need a ride?” he asks, his voice warm, that familiar glint in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter.

You open your mouth to decline, still feeling a bit of resistance. “It’s fine. Really. I’ll just grab an Uber.”

Bucky chuckles softly, tilting his head toward the door. “I’ll drop you off. It’s fine.”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, trying to gauge his sincerity, but there’s that familiar steadiness in his eyes, a quiet patience that leaves you with no real reason to argue. Finally, you sigh, giving in with a reluctant nod.

The car ride starts in silence, the engine’s low hum filling the tense quiet between you, only occasionally interrupted by the soft rattle of snowflakes pelting against the windows as the blizzard starts to gather strength. 

You shift in your seat, fidgeting, your hands smoothing over your coat, your fingers picking at invisible lint. Nothing feels comfortable. Every second, your eyes flick to the window, tracing the passing streetlights, trying to focus on anything but him.

But you can feel him there. The warmth of him beside you, the steady, calm presence that somehow has you on edge, unable to breathe fully. His familiar scent fills the car—a mix of cedar and something undeniably him—sharp and soothing all at once, making the small space feel even smaller.

You cross your arms, uncross them, uncross your legs, then cross them again, pressing your back firmly into the seat as if that might stop the quick, relentless beat of your heart. But each turn he makes, each slight shift of his shoulders, sends a fresh rush of awareness through you, and your mind is racing, trying to keep pace with the pulsing tension that seems to settle between you like a third presence.

Finally, desperate for a distraction, you reach over and flip on the radio, hoping for anything to ease the silence. But the first song is almost too on the nose, the lyrics hitting like they were made for this moment:

"All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you…”

A breath catches in your throat, and before the verse can continue, you reach over and quickly press the button again, changing the station, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

The next station crackles to life, and it’s somehow worse.

“Cause when I got somebody, you don’t and when you got somebody, I don’t. I wish that the time would line up so we could just give in…”

Your pulse races, and you switch stations again, more urgently this time, and the next song fills the car with a familiar pop beat.

“You ain’t my boyfriend and I ain’t your girlfriend. But you don’t want me to see nobody else and I don’t want you to see nobody…”

You press the power button, cutting off the music entirely, and the silence that follows feels heavier than before. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your coat, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him glancing your way, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Bucky clears his throat, his voice a low murmur. “Trouble finding a station?”

You manage a quick, nervous laugh, eyes fixed on the road ahead. 

“Yeah… something like that.”

He just nods, his gaze returning to the road, but you catch the lingering smile in his expression, like he’s perfectly aware of the tension simmering between you, the unspoken things filling the silence.

And as the quiet stretches, you can hear his breathing, steady and unhurried, and it only makes you more aware of your own. You try to breathe normally, in and out, but each breath feels too loud, too obvious, like you’re trying and failing to hide something you both already know.

× × × × 

Bucky pulls up in your driveway, and for a moment, the relief you thought you’d feel at reaching home is overshadowed by something else—something closer to disappointment. The quiet tension that’s been hanging between you feels almost unfinished, and you find yourself wishing the ride could somehow stretch on just a little longer.

He leaves the engine idling, the faint rumble filling the silence as you both sit there, neither moving to get out. After a few seconds, you clear your throat, glancing over at him with a small, reluctant smile.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, voice softer than you intended.

Bucky nods, returning your smile, but you can see a similar reluctance flicker across his face as he glances toward the house. 

“Anytime,” he murmurs.

Your eyes drift to the porch, and you remember the old habit the two of you shared, back when he’d drop by after a night out with everyone—those late nights with coffee and the dessert your mom always made, the one he loved and never turned down.

The memory brings a small smile to your lips, and before you can second-guess yourself, you look back at him. 

“Actually… my mom made her chocolate tart. The one you like. If you’re up for coffee and dessert, that is,” you say, feeling a twinge of nerves despite the casual invitation.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard, but you catch the hint of warmth in his eyes. 

“Chocolate tart, huh?” he echoes, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know I can’t say no to that.”

You shrug, playing it off, but your heart races as you nod toward the door. 

“Figured it’d be a shame to let it go to waste. Besides,” you add, trying to keep your tone light, “it’s been a while since we did coffee and dessert.”

Bucky’s smile widens, and he cuts the engine, pocketing his keys before glancing at you with that familiar spark in his eyes. 

“Guess it’s tradition,” he says, opening his door. “Wouldn’t want to break it.”

You step out, leading him up the walkway, and as you unlock the door, the feeling of anticipation settles back over you, even stronger now. It’s like the tension from the car ride has followed you inside. 

As you head into the kitchen, Bucky follows, his gaze drifting over the familiar space. He takes in the room, noticing what’s changed and what’s stayed the same. The same cozy lamp in the corner, casting a warm glow over the soft cushions on the couch, the same framed photos on the wall—but a few new things catch his attention.

A navy-blue jacket, draped over the armchair, too large to be yours. A set of keys on the counter with a small metal keychain that he doesn’t recognize. And a book on the coffee table, a spy thriller with a bookmark halfway through. He frowns slightly, his mind racing as he takes in these small, unfamiliar details, each one lighting a spark of jealousy that flares bright, unbidden.

He hadn’t asked about Andrew—hadn’t wanted to. But now, surrounded by small traces of him, the thought of someone else being part of this space, of sharing moments with you that once might have been his, digs into him with an unexpected force. The sight of it sparks something sharp and unbidden within him, jealousy flaring up like a match struck in the dark. He swallows, trying to ignore it, trying to remind himself that he has no right to feel this way, but the thought of Andrew’s things still lingering here sends his mind racing.

In the kitchen, you’re busy slicing the chocolate tart, setting two plates with practiced ease as you fill the silence with the familiar rhythm of preparing coffee. But every now and then, you feel his gaze on you, heavy and searching, like he’s taking in every detail of the room and of you.

Bucky clears his throat softly, his voice low as he leans against the doorway, watching you pour the coffee. “Things… feel different here,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual, but there’s a roughness in his voice that betrays him.

Your eyes follow his gaze to the jacket, and a flicker of understanding crosses your face. You give a small, almost sheepish laugh. 

“Oh, that. He left it here ages ago. I keep meaning to get rid of it, but it’s… just kind of stayed.” You shrug, looking away as if embarrassed by the attachment. “Guess I’m just lazy.”

He nods, the answer somehow not as satisfying as he’d hoped. His gaze shifts back to the room, trying to reconcile this familiar space with the small hints of someone else. 

“Ah,” he says, his tone lighter. “I get it. Hard to let go of things sometimes.”

You nod, a knowing look in your eyes, as if you both understand the layers beneath his words. You hand him his plate, the rich scent of chocolate and coffee filling the room as he takes it, his fingers brushing yours for a brief, lingering moment.

Settling down at the table, he watches you from across the coffee cup, the quiet tension between you only growing thicker. And as he takes a bite of the chocolate tart, the flavors familiar and nostalgic, he can’t help but feel like he’s grasping at something he’s been missing for too long.

You try to focus on your coffee, but Bucky’s gaze is unwavering, fixed solely on you. He takes another slow bite of the chocolate tart, and the way his eyes soften, paired with the slight curve of his lips. It’s like he’s seeing something he missed, something he can’t look away from.

After a beat, you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, unable to take it anymore. 

“What?” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, but your heart’s racing too fast.

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He just holds your gaze, eyes dark, thoughtful, and a little teasing, as if he’s enjoying watching you squirm. 

“Just… wondering why it took so long to get back here— it feels good to be here. With you.” His voice is low, quiet, but there’s a warmth behind it that makes your stomach flip.

You glance down, biting back a smile, but you can feel his gaze still on you, unrelenting, like he’s waiting for you to look back. 

“It’s just dessert, Bucky,” you murmur, trying to keep the moment light, but your cheeks betray you, a blush blooming under his attention.

“Maybe,” he replies, his tone teasing, eyes glinting. “But it’s the best damn dessert I’ve had in a long time.” He takes a slow bite of the tart, watching you with that infuriatingly soft gaze that makes it impossible to breathe.

"Christ..." you mutter under your breath, barely aware you’ve said it aloud. His gaze is so intense, it feels like he’s peeling away every defense you’ve carefully built.

“Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he murmurs, but there’s a teasing lilt in his voice, like he’s testing just how far he can push.

You let out a shaky laugh, glancing down at your coffee to avoid those piercing eyes. 

“You’re not… it’s just—” You don’t know how to finish the thought, every word slipping away under his unwavering stare.

He lets the silence hang for a beat, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk that’s equal parts infuriating and heart-stopping. Then he leans forward, just a bit closer, his eyes still locked on you, the teasing glint in them intensifying.

“You sure about that?” he murmurs, voice low and velvet-smooth. His fingers toy with the edge of his coffee cup, but his attention never wavers, every inch of him focused on you. “Because if I’m honest… I think I like watching you get flustered. Kind of makes me wonder what else I could do to make you look at me like that.”

Your breath catches, and you feel your pulse race, cheeks burning as his words sink in, every nerve suddenly buzzing. You’re caught, and he knows it, the challenge in his gaze daring you to look away—but you don’t, rooted to the spot, every nerve in your body humming.

But in that moment of stunned silence, something in your expression shifts, your eyes widening ever so slightly. It’s not discomfort, but a soft vulnerability—an openness he wasn’t expecting.

He misreads it entirely.

Bucky straightens abruptly, his face softening as he lets out a quick, self-conscious laugh, breaking eye contact. “I—sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, his smirk fading. “I’m just messing with you. Didn’t mean to… you know, make things weird.”

Your heart clenches at the quickness with which he pulls back, his retreat sudden, like he’s trying to undo the last few moments. You open your mouth, words rushing to the tip of your tongue to stop him, to explain, to tell him he hadn’t made you uncomfortable at all.

“Bucky…” you say softly, reaching out before you can think twice. The moment your fingers brush his hand, he glances up, eyes wide, almost searching yours for permission.

And before you can lose your nerve, you let the words slip, your voice barely a whisper. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable… I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

The tension between you flares back to life, sharper, deeper, as he studies you, realization dawning in his gaze, as if he’s daring himself to believe what you’re saying.

× × × × 

The blizzard outside has intensified, blanketing everything in a thick layer of snow that doesn’t look like it’ll be easing up anytime soon. By the time you both finish your coffee and dessert, the wind is howling against the windows, and the soft glow from the streetlights barely penetrates the wall of snow outside.

You walk to the window, peering out into the swirling white, and let out a small sigh. 

“Looks like it’s getting worse,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Bucky, the words carrying a quiet invitation you don’t fully realize.

Behind you, he steps closer, joining you by the window, his hand resting on the edge of the sill as he gazes out into the storm. 

“Guess I might have to wait it out,” he says, a hint of reluctance in his voice, though his eyes flicker with something warmer as they meet yours. His tone is casual, almost nonchalant, but the unspoken question lingers between you.

You turn to face him, folding your arms, trying to play it off casually. 

“Yeah, probably not the best idea to be out there in this.” You pause, giving him a small smile. “I mean, I have a couch. Wouldn’t be the first time you crashed here.”

He chuckles softly, nodding. 

“Right. Wouldn’t want to risk life and limb just to get home.” There’s a glimmer of amusement in his gaze, like he’s just as reluctant as you are to let the night end.

You manage a laugh, a quiet, slightly nervous sound as you gesture towards the living room. 

“The couch is all yours if you want it. I can grab a spare blanket.” The offer feels both genuine and like an excuse, a small plea for him to stay, if only a bit longer.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice soft, a warmth in his tone that makes your heart skip. “Appreciate it.”

As you disappear down the hall to fetch a blanket and pillow, he lingers in the living room, glancing around the familiar space. He’s barely acknowledged how much he’s missed this—missed you—and now, surrounded by small remnants of your life, it all feels heavier than he expected, like he’s on the brink of something he’s not ready to let go of.

You return with a thick blanket and a pillow, handing them to him as he sets them down on the couch. 

“Here you go. It’s not much, but… I think you’ll survive,” you say, though there’s something tentative in your voice, almost as if you’re testing the waters, hoping he’ll stay a little closer.

Bucky chuckles, sitting on the edge of the couch, his hands settling over his knees as he looks up at you. 

“Yeah, I’ve handled worse, I think,” he replies, his gaze lingering just a bit too long.

A quiet pause stretches between you, neither of you moving. Outside, the snow falls in thick, relentless waves, cocooning you both in this shared moment, and you feel the weight of what’s left unsaid, lingering like an invitation neither of you dares to speak aloud.

Finally, you clear your throat, offering a small smile. 

“Well… goodnight, Bucky,” you say, your voice softer than you intended, and you find yourself hesitating, like you’re reluctant to leave.

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Goodnight, doll.”

× × × ×

Bucky was asleep on the couch. Your couch. Crashing at your place, as he had so many nights before.

The man you wanted more than you’d ever wanted anyone in your life.

You couldn't sleep, tossing and turning and thinking of him lying not thirty feet away from you on the other side of your bedroom wall. He had stayed over countless times, what was it about tonight that had you squirming beneath the sheets? 

God, the subtle, masculine scent of him, the warmth of his body so close to yours—maybe he'd actually seen the little shiver of sexual awareness that had rippled through you during dinner.

Whatever it was, you were suffering now. His smile, his voice, his deep, infectious laugh...so what if he had been your friend since, so what if he could be a bit of a doofus at times—okay, a lot of the time—so what if you were both single now and feeling that familiar itch, that longing, that uncomfortable awareness of being without someone just a bit too long.

Fuck.

You both had talked about this. Once—a long time ago. You had agreed; getting involved wasn't the right thing to do—look how many friendships were ruined by relationships.

You threw back the duvet and swung your legs over the side of the bed, wiggling your toes nervously as you bit your lip. 

You needed a drink, that's what you needed. Not that kind of drink—although God knew you weren't far from it. You needed a cool glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge and maybe some splashed on your face for good measure. 

Then you could come back to bed and read. Or listen to some music. Or... something. You had an early start in the morning, you had to find some way to get some sleep. If you were really quiet, you could slip right past him and he'd never even know you'd been out of your room.

You creaked open your bedroom door and listened for the sound of his quiet snoring. Sure enough, the soft sounds of sleep drifted towards you and you straightened, relaxing a little. 

He was sleeping just fine. He wasn't tossing and turning thinking about you.

You slipped out into the chilly living room, and shivered involuntarily. You'd set the thermostat low in the living room to save energy, completely forgetting to turn it up for his sake, so while your bedroom was toasty warm, the living room was cold and still. 

Guiltily you cast your eyes over his sleeping form, sprawled inelegantly over the couch with one hand thrown over his eyes and one leg up over the back of the sofa. He wore only a t-shirt and boxers, and lying with the blanket kicked to the floor instead to cover himself with, he looked vulnerable somehow, and uncomfortable.

And incredibly, almost achingly sexy.

Your eyes roamed over him in blatant appreciation. He was a powerhouse of strength, with thick, chiseled muscles that seemed almost carved from stone. Broad shoulders tapered down to a torso built from years of dedication, and his arms were thick with veins and ridges that caught the light. 

Your gaze slid down his powerful legs, the defined muscle of his thighs flexing beneath the hem of his shorts. He was the embodiment of rugged masculinity, intense and undeniably commanding. His stubbled jaw caught your eye, and you let your gaze linger on his lips—the lips you’d dreamed of tasting so many times...too many times, in fact. So often that sometimes you imagined the fantasy as if it were a memory. So delicious, so sensual and hot.

Only he wasn't hot—you try to tell yourself. You dragged yourself back to reality, frowning as you looked down at him. He was cold.

You went back to the bedroom and pulled an extra blanket off the closet shelf, and carried it back to lay across his sleeping form. He stirred slightly as you draped it over him, and his eyelids fluttered open.             

“Hmmm…” Bucky mumbled thickly, his voice hoarse and low. “Good morning.”

“It's not morning, it's two a.m,” you whispered. “I was just getting you another blanket. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmmm…” he said, cuddling it around him.

He pulled his leg down off the couch and straightened himself out, stretching languidly, shuddering, like a cat. You loved watching the way his muscles tensed and relaxed. You loved watching him do anything, in fact.

“It's so cold,” You said by way of an unasked-for explanation, and looked away from his body. His eyes were still closed so you could have looked a little longer, but didn't want to risk it.

“Cold?” he murmured. “Just a second.” He pushed aside the blanket and reached for you, tugging you down towards him.

You gasped and lost your footing, sitting down hard on the couch beside him. He pulled you down and enveloped you in his arms, pulling you tight against his chest.

He flipped the blanket over top of both of you. “There. I'll keep you warm.”

A sleepy duskiness coloured his voice, and something in the intimacy of it, the familiarity of it, made your heart flutter rebelliously in your chest. He smelled so damn good, like a mixture of soap and the sweet warm and musky scent of cedar wood. He drew you in closer, molding his body against yours, and God help you, you allowed him. You settled in more comfortably beside him, your leg thrown over his, your arm stretched across his chest.

“I was saying you must be cold,” you whispered. “Not telling you I was.”

“I know.” Bucky said without missing a beat.

You lay there, entwined, quiet, saying nothing more. You rested your head against his chest and could feel more than hear the lazy beat of his heart, and the quiet, smooth passage of his breath. His hand languidly caressed your arm, the rhythm growing slower as he drifted back to sleep. 

Sleep threatened to claim you, too, so you stirred, trying to disentangle from him. You'd have to be near your alarm clock or you'd never get up in time.

“No, don't go,” Bucky murmured as you tried to move. He held you tighter.

“I have to,” you whispered. “I have to get some sleep, I have to get up in a few hours.”

“Stay.”

“I can't.”

He was gradually coming awake, slowly becoming more oriented. He shifted position slightly so that he was more on his side, looking down at you as he rested his head on his bent elbow. He stretched his other arm across you and pulled you closer, gently caressing you back.

“Stay,” he said again. His voice was clearer now. He was fully awake. Still slightly dazed from sleep, but awake.

You hesitated, letting your gaze roam over his face. Finally you whispered, “We talked about this a long time ago, remember?”

“I know. I'm sorry. I just...I want you to stay.”

In the dim moonlight spilling in through the French doors his features were muted, but his eyes—his eyes were large and dark, taking you in with a mixture of hope and trepidation. Bucky moistened his lips, his pupils growing even larger as they roamed over your face and you could feel the pace of his heart pick up and his breathing increase. 

His gaze moved down to your lips and his brow creased in an expression that could have been longing, or frustration, or both. He raised his eyes slowly to meet yours, the haze of desire stealing slowly into his gaze.

“You're not nothing to me,” he said, almost to himself. “That's precisely the problem.”

How on earth were you supposed to resist such a sensual, beautiful, soulful man? Stay? How could you not?

“Please,” he whispered. “Stay. . . I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Your resolve was crumbling as you felt your chest tighten. You looked into his eyes and barely managed to whisper the words. 

“What’s that?”

“This.” 

He lowered his head slowly and kissed you, brushing your lips softly, sensuously, as if in no particular hurry. As if he had all the time in the world to savor you, to taste you, to send pleasure rippling through you with every touch of his lips. He murmured softly as he gently nipped at your bottom lip, teasing your, biting and then kissing-better the lips he was bruising.

You could feel the pleasure he was taking in kissing you, the slow—tortuously slow—pleasure he was enjoying for himself and teasing out of you as he lingered in your mouth. Bucky’s hand slid along your jaw, tilting your face up to him, his thumb caressing your cheek as he kissed you. He broke the kiss and looked down at you in wonder, his eyes glittering in the dim light, then brought your face up to his and kissed you again.

You opened your mouth to him and his tongue slipped in to tangle sensuously with yours. He angled his head from one side to the other, exploring your mouth and pressing kisses along the edges of your lips. You kissed his cheeks, his chin, his light stubble gently razing your lips and making them all the more sensitive. When you found his lips again, their soft warmth was intoxicating and you deepened the kiss, teasing his tongue with your own.

You kissed him back sensually, with equal possessiveness and enjoyment, and knew that your response was emboldening him.

Bucky tensed and pressed against you, his kiss growing firmer and more insistent. His mouth moved over yours expertly, wringing pleasure from you in breaths that came faster and little cries that escaped into the quiet of the room. Your soft moans made him tense even more, and you could feel his arousal along the length of your leg, hard and urgent like the rest of his body. 

You were both warm now, and he threw back the blanket before settling back down on top of you, returning to the slow, rhythmic dance of kissing, teasing, and tasting that was just about driving you mad.

You slipped your hands up over your head, thinking to wrap them around him, but he found them and clasped your wrists together with his left hand and kept them there, holding you down with gentle pressure as he bent to kiss you more deeply. 

The sensation of being held by him, of being pinned down, gently, but with no doubt as to his strength, rushed through you in unfamiliar torrents of excitement. He entwined his fingers in yours, easing up the pressure, dipping his head between your upraised arms to kiss you deeply, slowly, torturously.

As his tongue tangled with yours the fingers of his right hand trailed up the side of your body, stopping at the swell of your breast. He ran his hand over you gently, tentatively, feeling the weight of it beneath him and groaning softly. He slipped his hand inside your robe and cupped you bare flesh, his warm hand gently squeezing, caressing, as he groaned again and grew even harder. His thumb circled over your nipple and you gasped, arching against him at the sudden sting of pleasure. He pushed aside the robe further, revealing your breast with its tight nipple, unbearably aroused by his touch.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, gazing at you breast. He lowered his lips to your nipple and gently kissed it, his tongue tasting and savoring it the way he had just been savoring your mouth.

The wet warmth of his mouth on your sensitive flesh made you ache with a tension and desire you had never felt before. When his tongue swirled around you nipple languidly, when he took the sensitive bud into his mouth and suckled softly, you felt the exquisite torture of it flow down through you body to you very core. How could this feel so damn good? Just the lightest brush of his lips, his tongue, his teeth on your nipple and you felt almost ready to climax.

His free hand slid around to the small of your back and he lifted you gently, sliding you further down the couch and farther under him. You were completely beneath him now, and completely held by him, one strong hand gently pressing your wrists into the sofa cushions and the other splayed across you back while he bent his head and kissed and sucked and teased you breast. You almost couldn't bear the sensation as your nipple grew harder, more tender, and the pleasure started liquifying between your legs.

"Yes..." you breathed. You arched again, wanting him to release you from his mouth and yet hoping that he never would. "Oh my God, Bucky, that feels so good..."

Bucky lets go of your wrists and brings his hand down to your other breast, pushing aside your robe to free you completely. He caressed you, sensuously feeling the roundness of you, and trailed his lips across the rising swell, kissing and tasting and smiling at the way your soft flesh moved under his tongue. He gently grasped your breast and brought your nipple up to his mouth, which grew hard and exquisitely tender under his tongue. His fingers continued to tease your other nipple, the one still stinging from the feel of his mouth on it, still aching to feel it again.

You arched into him, sinking your hand into his hair and pressing him to your breast. The pleasure of his mouth and hands on you was making you weak, making you shiver with pleasure and need, all down the length of you and in between your legs. You could feel  yourself growing wet and ready for him, the pleasure so intense, so unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

You heard yourself moaning softly, whimpering, making sounds you had never made before, all but dizzy with desire and sensation. With every little sound you made he groaned, or his erection surged against you, or he fell onto your breasts again with increased hunger. Your response to him was as intoxicating to him as his mouth was to you—you could feel it in his every movement, his every ragged breath.

“I need you, Bucky.” You pleaded softly. “Please.”

He rose over you, bracing his arms on either side of you. His eyes blazed with heat as he looked down at you, at you eyes, your mouth, your breasts. He took your mouth expertly, hungrily, kissing you fiercely with a dominance that thrilled you. He moved to trail hot kisses down your neck, licking the sensitive skin near your collarbone, barely skimming you with his tongue as if wanting the merest taste. You gripped his shoulders, and turned your head to the side, aching at the sensation of his mouth on you, kissing, licking, tasting. 

You moaned at the feel of his tongue on your neck and the gentle pressure of his lips pressing kisses against your skin. You needed to feel him, to taste his salty sweet skin, his maleness, him.

As if he could read your thoughts he lifted up from you to pull his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor. You reached up and ran your hands over his chest, and as he fell on you again his mouth found yours hungrily and his hand slid into your hair, gripping the top of your head possessively as you kissed.

You had never felt so possessed, so taken, so overwhelmed by a man. You broke the kiss and sought his neck, his shoulder, his tense muscles straining as he held himself above you. You branded your own hot trail of kisses into his skin, felt him strain against you at the sensation. You loved the taste of him, so male and wonderful beneath your lips.

"Baby. . ." His voice was hoarse, breathless. 

For one brief moment uncertainty flashed in his eyes and he looked as though he wanted to say something. But when your lips found his again he lost the thought and succumbed to the kiss, slanting over your mouth, teasing your tongue with his.

You ran your hands down his back to the waistband of his boxers, and dipped your hands beneath the elastic to roam over his flesh. He tensed at your touch and you felt him suck in a breath as you moved your hands around to the front. 

He was very hard, and you curled your fingers—which couldn’t wrap around him fully—as you gripped his ass with your other hand. He groaned softly and kissed you even more deeply, surging against you with an almost desperate urgency. You began to stroke him, your fingers gently gliding up and down his smooth shaft until he suddenly let out a groan and broke away, stopping your hand with his own.

“Fuck,” he said breathlessly, heat blazing in his eyes. “I can't. . .”

Alarm flared in you. “What's wrong?”

“I won't last long. . .”

“Oh, is that all?” You gently pushed his hand away and began to tentatively stroke him again.

He moaned, closing his eyes briefly, enjoying the pleasure. “If you keep doing that. . .”

“What?” You prompted, nibbling on his lower lips as you stroked.

“I'll have to fuck you.”

“Good.” You took his lips again and you fell into a rhythmic kiss, as if you had been kissing each other forever. He moaned softly into your mouth as you stroked him, making soft noises of your own into his mouth.

Bucky broke the kiss, his breathing sharp and shallow, and gazed down at you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was quiet, urgent, almost desperate.

“Yes,” you breathed, pushing his boxers down with your free hand. He lifted up his hips to help you and shrugged out of them, kicking them to the floor.

“I didn't mean for this to happen, at least not tonight,” he said, his breath jagged and quiet as you continued to stroke him. “I've wanted you for so long, but—”

“I know,” You murmured, kissing his neck as your hand slid over his thick length again and again. His body was rigid with tension and you tried to relax him with your mouth, your whispers, the feel of your body. But you knew he wouldn't relax as long as you were stroking him. You paused and he relaxed slightly, but his eyes still burning and his breath still came unevenly.

“Are you sure?” He asked again, his eyes showing fear through the haze of desire. Heat blazed between them, and you felt such a desperate need in him that you wanted to soothe him, comfort him. But doing so with words seemed the wrong thing to do.

"Mhmmm," You murmured instead, kissing his jaw, his neck, the sensitive skin beneath his ear. He groaned softly as you ran your fingers over his shaft, teasing, tempting, letting you fingernails trail along the sensitive skin below. You cupped him and squeezed gently as he groaned louder, pleasure that sounded almost painful. you laughed softly, kissing along his collarbone, his shoulder, his neck.

“You know how I feel about you. . . ” he managed, his voice little more than a breath. “Don't you? That I—”

"Shhhh," You said, coming back to meet his eyes. He looked so afraid, so vulnerable, and yet so filled with desire. You knew, then, everything you needed to know. And every word he needed to hear. "Please. . . Baby. . .it's okay. We can talk later. Right now. . .please. . . just shut up and fuck me."

His fear melted into a smile so warm, so open, so full of relief that he almost looked ready to cry. He took your mouth again, arching over you as he claimed you. Before his kisses had been searching and sensuous, now they seemed driven by pure desire. He ground his lips on yours  masterfully, taking what he wanted, what he needed.

You could feel the raw need in him, the need for acceptance, the need to let pure passion overcome his fear. Every meeting of your lips sent another jolt through you, every taste of his tongue made you desperate for more, and you knew he was reeling from the same powerful sensations that you were. You could feel him starting to let go, to abandon himself to you, to enjoy making you abandon  yourself to him. 

Here was the lust you had always hoped was there, the powerful sexuality always just below the surface, the desire you had hoped and prayed he felt for you. It was here, pressed against you, an urgent cock and a hard, warm body, roaming lips and soft, male moans of pleasure and need. A careful heart revealing itself to yours.

You moved beneath him, pressing your hips against him to ease the heat that radiated from between your legs. The ache was exquisite, your need growing more urgent as you felt his erection surge and strengthen.

You felt his hand on your knee and then slowly, so damn slowly, he began to trail his fingers up along the inside of your thighs, which parted so easily at his gentle persuasion. His touch was electric, yet soft and sensual, and wherever his fingers played you felt a fiery tingle that made you shiver. Finally his fingers trailed delicately over your sensitive cunt, teasing you, tantalizing you, until you cried softly, silently begging him to touch you most sensitive place.

With a smile that you could feel more than see, his fingers slipped into your slick warmth and you cried out, a spasm of pleasure overwhelming you. He silenced your cry with his mouth, his tongue tangling with yours  while his fingers slipped deeply inside you and stroked, as languidly and rhythmically as you were stroking him.

“Oh my g—” You cried, writhing at the pleasure of his fingers sliding slowly in and out of you, then pulling out to trail up higher and caress your folds. When his fingers danced over your clit you arched you back, your breath leaving you in a gasp. The electricity of his touch, so gentle and sensuous, sent spasms of pleasure rippling through you. 

He didn't hurry the pace, just stroked you with an even, sensual rhythm as he kissed  you. He was holding you, his arm surrounding you, pressing his body to yours, his mouth never far from your lips, your neck, your ear, his eyes never far from yours. You had never felt so close to someone, so protected in his arms, so cherished and adored.

His fingers dipped down to enter you again and his thumb continued the slow, exquisite torture above. Just when you thought you'd go over the edge he'd pull away, pause, caress a different part of you and send you on the upward spiral again and again, or slide his fingers into you over and over while his thumb swirled and caressed and rubbed, driving you mad with an aching desire. 

He smiled down at you, nipped at your lips, pressed his forehead to yours and trailed kisses down your eyelids, your cheeks, until claiming your mouth again, his tongue mimicking the sweet, sensuous motion of his fingers and thumb.

He grew rock hard in your hand as you moaned with each breath, as you came closer and closer to the edge. You could feel him restraining himself, wanting only to pleasure you, anticipating your climax. But it wasn't what you wanted. On a ragged breath you stopped his hand.

"I want you," you said urgently. "Please, Bucky. . .fuck me."

He gazed at you, teetering on a moment of indecision. His chest rose and fell sharply with his labored breath, and he brought a trembling hand up to your hip and gripped you, holding you, moving to settle between your legs and pausing at your entrance.

"Please, I want you inside me." your voice dropped to a whisper so urgent you hardly recognized it yourself. "Please don't make me beg."

And whatever strength he had left vanished.

"Oh baby. . ." He moved forward and slid into you, a breathless throaty sound of pure male pleasure escaping his lips. "Oh my God. . ."

He paused for a moment, looking down at you with heavy-lidded desire, visibly enjoying the new sensation of being so deep inside  you. You were slick and hot, more than ready for him, and as you body adjusted to him, to the exquisite, aching stretch he was causing, you squirmed beneath him on a moan of primal pleasure. He pulled out slowly, torturously, and slid himself in again, filling you completely.

You closed your eyes and moaned, gripping his ass as he lifted your hips up to him, angling you so he could fill you more deeply. He began to thrust, slowly, rhythmically, his hips moving sensuously, making you muscles tighten around him as he plunged into you again and again, your movements coming so easily, so naturally, so deliciously slowly.

You lifted your legs to wrap them around him, loving the way it tilted you back so that his every thrust felt deeper, felt like it was reaching new depths of pleasure in you.

“Yes, yes, yes. . .like that. . .oh my god, Bucky. . .you fill me up so good.” 

He ran his hand possessively along your leg, pausing to look down at your joined bodies as he thrust into you. He raised himself up, his arms braced on the other side of you to keep his weight off you, and moved so he could thrust more freely, more quickly, building the tempo. He pressed his lips to your forehead gently as he drove into you, his breath ragged, panting, yours matching his intensity and need.

“Ugh—you drive me insane, I love hearing you moan my name—don’t stop.”

You could feel him getting close, nearing the edge of his own release, and he slowed, lowering his head to nuzzle your neck as the rhythm of his hips paused, and then resumed again, more slowly this time, building again, savoring you body the way his lips had savored you mouth, the way his tongue had devoured you breasts. His arm slid around you back again, holding you, lifting you up to him as he took your breast in his mouth and teased it with his tongue. His mouth was hungrier this time, sucking your nipple, flicking his tongue over it with such abandon that you felt it in your core. His passion was growing, and you could sense that his desire to be slow and tender with you was losing the battle against his raw primitive need.

You gripped him, lost in the dizzying sensations he was causing in you. His mouth on you, his hand roaming over you, gripping your ass as he thrust into you in a relentless rhythm. You were limp in his embrace, held in place for him to possess, to plunder, to pleasure. You had never been held like that before, and the primal intensity of it, the feeling of being so completely owned by his desire, overwhelmed  you. You were his, completely, your body as loose as a rag doll in his arms. You gripped his straining arms as he sent pleasure coursing through you, gripping you as he thrust and withdrew, plunged and pulled out, drove into you over and over again in breathless ecstasy.

“Keep fucking me like that—Yes! Oh my God, harder, please. . . B-Bucky!”

Waves of pleasure grew stronger and stronger in you, pushing you towards the ultimate pleasure, building with increasing urgency as his rhythm grew faster and harder. 

“Oh—like that? You like that?”

He groaned as he kissed your neck, your collarbone, your breast, and drove himself into you with such exquisite need. You gripped his buttocks, feeling the powerful muscles contracting with each thrust, drawing him deeper into you. When he tore away from your lips and looked down into your eyes you felt the waves rise, growing stronger and higher and faster until with a shattered cry you came, trembling as the pleasure spasmed through you.

His eyes never left yours as he thrust into you, groaning from the exquisite pleasure of your spasming pussy. 

“Shit—fuck, you’re gonna make me come. Ohhhh—” Bucky moaned.

You were so incredibly tight, gripping his cock as you came, milking him as he struggled to last just a moment longer, lost in the heaven of you hot, wet heat. Your cries of pleasure echoed throughout the darkened room and when you whispered his name on a soft, sweet whimper he found his own release, jetting into you over and over again as he cried out in an agony of pleasure and a torrent, a chorus, of your name.

Finally, finally, his hips slowed and he lowered his head and kissed you gently, sensuously, as softly as he had when he had first pulled you down to him. Then he lowered his head to your neck and let himself rest there, lying against you, his heart thundering, his breath ragged and heavy. You lowered your legs from around his waist and wrapped your arms around him instead, cradling him to  you. you rested your head against the top of his and felt your own breath slowing, your own heartbeat returning to normal. His cock was still hard inside you and he shuddered as you clenched around him.

"God, you're incredible." He exhaled a long, deep breath.

He rose up and kissed you, shuddering with each aftershock as his cock surged inside  you. You could feel your inner muscles clenching around him, not releasing him yet, teasing the last drops of pleasure from him. 

He lay his head down against you again, breathing out a sigh that was both release and contentment as the last tremors rippled through him. You loved this feeling, this sensation of his body trembling with the afterglow of pleasure, pleasure you had given him, just as your body was tingling from the intense pleasure he had given you.

He held you to him, sliding out of you slowly, and shifted slightly so that you fit against him perfectly, settling into the warmth and comfort of his arms encircling you.

“Holy shit,” he whispered again, pressing his lips to your temple and leaving them there for a long minute before letting go.

“I'm so glad you stayed over,” you said quietly, kissing the soft skin of his neck.

He stilled for a moment, and you looked up at him, trying to read whatever might be revealed in his eyes. In the darkness both of you were inscrutable, until he leaned closer and bumped your cheek with his nose before lightly pressing his lips to yours for a sweet, soulful kiss.

“So does this mean we're not friends anymore?” He asked, in between luscious nips at your lips.

“You tell me,” you said sleepily, unable to resist his slow, savoring kisses.

You felt his smile as he kissed you languidly, with deliberate slowness, each kiss deepening into something more intimate than the last. Finally his lips stilled and you felt him fall asleep beside you, his breathing soft and slow.

You wanted to stay awake, to freeze this moment in time, to make it last. you wished you could lay there forever, tucked in beside him, your bodies curled to get you. But even as you tried to stay awake, gently caressing the arm that draped over you protectively. you gradually succumbed to a peaceful, contented sleep.

[parkers-gal]

peaches J.B.

summary: the team finds out about bucky's secret relationship with you

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader (non-avenger reader)

timeline: post civil war but excluding endgame endings

wc: 1.4k

warnings: drabble, lowercase writing, nothing nsfw, not proof read or betaed

author's note: this is self indulgent, one of my first bucky's fics, and my first fic in 4 years (bear with me). don't know if i'll write any requests but... feel free to send them anyways!

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there’s a light purple hair tie holding the ends of bucky’s hair together. he shifts around the kitchen quietly. he’s up before the rest of the compound, having just returned from your apartment, unbeknownst to the rest of the team.

as he pours the fresh brew of coffee, sam struts in wearing gym clothes and a peppy smile.

it’s too early for him, bucky thinks to himself. 

“what’s up tin man?”

he’s met from silence but before sam can say something else, steve and nat join them in the kitchen for breakfast.

“morning buck.”

“morning,” he takes a small sip from his mug. 

sam turns to the fridge behind bucky, but as he does, he notices the light colored string in bucky’s hair. 

“what’s that?”

“what’s what?” nat asks

sam points to the back of bucky’s head, “the thing in his hair.”

“it’s called a hair tie, sam” nat laughs without even looking at bucky.

“but why is it purple?” 

nat and steve are quiet as they turn to look at bucky’s hair. bucky puts his mug on the counter and turns to face them so they can’t look at his head. 

“maybe i just wanted some color today. what’s the big deal?”

nat shrugs and pours some creamer into her coffee, but sam being sam won’t drop this until he gets what he’s after.

“did you go to claire’s?

“who’s claire?”

steve chuckles, not at bucky’s confusion but at sam’s insistence. truth be told, steve doesn’t know what claire’s is, either. so, he changes the subject

“you guys training today?”

bucky nods, sam and steve exchange meet up times, and bucky retreats back to his room to start the day. not before shooting you a quick text and a promise to meet up for lunch.

Meet you at Jitters? For coffee?

See you at 1 :) 

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it’s been a week since sam noticed bucky’s purple hair tie and thankfully, he hasn’t noticed – or mentioned that he’s noticed – bucky leave late and come back early in the morning. every night, without fail, bucky takes his motorcycle to your small apartment and spends the night with you. he’d honestly move in with you at this point, but that would mean telling the rest of the team about his relationship with you, and that wasn’t a level of nosy he wanted to endure. 

the curtain covers the sunlight seeping through your bedroom window. you yawn the remnants of sleep and turn over in bucky’s hold. his eyes flutter and you smile as he starts waking up.

“morning, doll,” his thumb rubs your hip and you nuzzle further into his touch.

your smile is soft, “good morning. what time do you need to be back?”

his lips purse for a moment, and his eyes hold a glint of mischief in them. “i think i can have breakfast here, peaches.”

“really?” you beam. “they won’t get too suspicious?”

his hand reaches down to hold your cheek, eyes crinkling in a smile he only ever gives you.

“maybe sam and steve, but… maybe it’s time.”

you sit up a little, leaning on your elbow. “really?” you can’t hide the growing smile on your face. “you wanna tell them about us?”

“at least steve.” he blushes, evidently nervous. “i want him to meet you.”

you’re giddy at the idea. you know how important steve is to bucky, and meeting steve is like a stepping stone in your relationship. it’s not that bucky hasn’t been serious about your relationship, but it was hard for him to open up to you at first, and to openly express love for you. he loves doting on you, but in front of the whole team? it’s something he hasn’t worked up to, yet.

you reach for his hand, giving it a squeeze and leaning down to peck his adorably pink lips. his hand grips your hip and after a moment, he parts his lips, trying to pull you down onto his chest. you giggle, moving away from him and pulling the covers off your lap. bucky groans as you pull on his sweater and make your way to the kitchen.

by the time bucky makes it back to the compound, it’s over an hour after he’s usually in the compound kitchen for morning coffee. sam is in the hallway as bucky leaves the elevator to head back to his room. he hoped he could avoid anyone seeing him get back, but sam loves to pry.

“where have you been?”

bucky grumbles, “what’s it to you?”

they reach bucky’s room. sam stops outside the door, analyzing his teammate. 

“you weren’t here when i came by your room last night either.”

bucky freezes. it’s momentary, but sam still notices. 

“i went out.”

“spent the night?”

“no.” he’s quick to respond. “no, you just didn’t see me get back, bird brain.”

sam rolls his eyes, leaning against the doorframe while bucky shuffles through his drawers for some workout clothes.

where is my gym bag?

“well, steve is already downstairs waiting for you. it’s sparring day.”

when bucky turns around, sam is gone. he exhales, gets changed, and makes his way towards the gym. just like sam said, steve is already warming up in the ring with natasha and clint. 

“you’re finally awake,” clint comments.

bucky doesn’t respond. he sets his stuff on the sideline bench, puts his phone by his water, and starts wrapping his hands. fifteen minutes later, he’s dancing around the ring with steve while natasha yells out adjustments. 

bucky’s phone buzzes once, then twice, and by the third time, sam and clint walk over to it, glancing at the screen before confusingly look at each other. clint shrugs, so sam picks it up and turns towards the ring.

“who’s ‘peaches?’”

bucky freezes, his wrists dropping. steve pauses, looking to natasha and then to sam. bucky spits his mouthguard out.

“why are you looking through my things?”

“your phone went off like four times.”

“and you just go through it?!” bucky clenches his jaw, trying to pry off his gloves.

“buck, what’s he talking about?”

sam interjects, “there’s someone named ‘peaches’ texting him!”

everyone turns towards bucky. he tries so hard not to blush, but thinking of you, he can’t help it. 

“just … someone.”

“a girl?” natasha asks.

a beat of silence goes by. “... maybe?”

sam gasps “i knew you were hiding something!”

“woah, slow down,” steve takes his gloves off. “buck… are you seeing someone?”

another beat of silence, and bucky exhales in defeat. “yeah, i am.”

the group collectively bursts with questions. tony, hearing the commotion, joins them. sam is giddy but bucky is beat red, moving to snatch his phone from sam’s hands. 

“can we meet her?”

tony nods, “yeah, i wanna see tin man be more than just grumpy.”

bucky’s brows furrow, “i told her she would only meet steve at first.”

sam’s shoulders slump. “why can’t she just come right now?”

natasha rolls her eyes. “i’m sure she has a job, sam.”

bucky’s phone buzzes again – a text from you. he smiles down at it, and that makes steve and sam exchange a look of surprise. the group grows quiet, but bucky simply leaves the room. 

“what the- what??” sam turns to steve expecting him to know what to do.

“i don’t know” steve responds.

“you could just follow him” clint suggests, laughing as sam, steve, and natasha trail after bucky on the same path.

downstairs, bucky meets you out front. you’re holding bucky’s gym bag and smiling as you approach him. 

“you left this at my place, you goose,” you giggle when he finally reaches you.

“peaches i-” before he can warn you, you gasp, peering over bucky’s shoulder at the group of avengers huddled by the entrance. bucky cranes his neck to see what you’re staring at, and he sighs, turning back to you. 

“i’m sorry peaches, sam saw your texts before i did and i… i couldn’t- i’m sorry.”

your eyes are sympathetic and you reach up to touch his stubble, cupping his cheek. you stand on your tip toes and kiss his cheek gently. 

“that’s okay, james.” you smile reassuringly and it makes him want to kiss you, so he does. he cups your face with both hands and kisses you as if he’s been suffocating and you’re the only air he can breathe. faintly, you hear a whistle from sam, and steve shuffles his feet, back turning towards the two of you as he scratches the back of his neck, not wanting to watch you. 

you grip bucky’s wrist, engulfed in the smell of amber and something distinctly bucky. you begin to smile, and eventually bucky breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead on yours. 

“wanna meet the team?”

my masterlist ♡

[ang3ltine]

"𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐦��� 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫" - Sergeant Bucky Barnes x Nurse freader 18+

You and Bucky are invited to a boat party to celebrate his successful mission in Moscow. But you both arrive late due to minor setbacks.

a.n - Bucky has a surprise for you and all the soldiers are in on it. Steve doesn't appear until later on (don't worry it's a wholsome ending!

warnings - hickeys, smut, dirty talk, fingering,Playful dom! Bucky and Sub!freader

The deep resonant blast of a horn could be heard as the military warship for the 107th creaks to a halt.

After a week long mission overseas, they were finally home. As the bridge is pulled out and the soldiers stepped down to meet their loved ones.

You spot a familiar hat amongst the sea of soldiers at the top of the bridge.

Bucky had returned as a hero, so it's no surprise when you spot him with a bunch of cheering soldiers surrounding him. You felt your heart racing as you weave your way through everyone to make it towards the bridge.

"Bucky! Over here!!" You yell and wave your hands up frantically in order to get his attention.

Upon hearing his name, he looks up to see you making your way out of the crowd and towards the bottom of the bridge.

Without a second thought, he excuses himself before practically sprinting down the bridge as you wait for him with outstretched arms.

You almost fall back from the impact as Bucky runs into your embrace. He lifts you off the ground with ease while he buries his face into the crook of your neck. Hearing his steady heartbeat reminded you that he was still alive and had not returned in a casket.

Cheers erupt all around you and behind Bucky as the soldiers surround you both. He peers up at you through wet lashes while you fix his hat and look down at him with loving eyes.

"Thank God you're alive."

"Only because I had you to come home to doll. That's what got me through this war." He whispers as you two press your foreheads together.

You see all the scars and scratches that were carved into his skin due to shrapnel. But you ignore his flaws because he is still your handsome soldier.

Bucky feels your lips all over his face as you press kisses on all his scars.

"Doll stop-- It tickles!!"

He laughs softly at the feeling and knows for sure that there's probably faint lipstick stains left over. Nonetheless, he happily accepts your kisses.

Bucky was heartbroken you couldn't join him on his mission to Moscow. Colonel Philips believed that you should take a break for a while before joining them again.

Speaking of the Colonel.

"Are you two done?" A gruff voice interrupts you both while Bucky sets you back onto the ground.

"Colonel Phillips, we were just uhh...catching up," Bucky answers while giving him a salute and a tight-lipped smile. You cover your mouth to hide your smile with one hand as Philips spots the lipstick marks on Buckys face.

Philips grunts in agreement before turning to you.

"Mr Barnes here thinks that just because he's a war hero now. He gets to skip morning drills and muck around."

Bucky shifts on his feet awkwardly and avoids making eye contact with you while you turn to him to give him a tired look.

"Bucky we talked about this--""I know, I know. It won't happen again."

"It better not." Colonel Philips mumbles under his breath and gives you a curt nod before leaving.

"Come on, soldier boy, let's get you home." You sighed while Bucky links your arm with his with a smug smile.

An invitation got to sent to you in the mail a few days later to celebrate the successful mission.

Bucky was staying over at your rented apartment in London.You had family who lived there so they helped you out.

After failing to convince the Colonel multiple times he finally gave in and let him go.

The party was going to start in less than two hours so you let Bucky rest for a little longer while you got ready.

You picked out a short sleeve off shoulder ivory dress with a layered skirt paired with silk bow heels. Despite it being a casual event.

"Hm? Why're you getting dolled up so early in the morning?" a pair of arms hugged your waist, the voice hoarse from sleeping. Bucky rests his chin atop your shoulder. He had messy bedhair that fell over his eyes as he watched you intently while you applied the final step to your makeup."We have the party to attend to remember?" you say gently while you turn around to fix his hair.

"You should go and get ready too." Bucky grumbled a small 'ok' after taking the suit from your hands and walking into the washroom to change.

"Shit--!!"

Bucky had accidentally cut himself on the cheek while shaving when you rush in to see what had happened.You sighed before reaching into the cabinet infront of him to pulls out the first aid bag.

"Honey, you should be more careful," you murmured while Bucky faces you as you reach up to the wipe the cut before placing a small bandage over it.

He mumbles a small 'sorry'. He looked like a kicked puppy which made you feel bad for him.

You gave him a chaste kiss before pulling away, your hand still resting on his cheek.

"It's ok Bucky, I know it was just an accident."

The space in the washroom was a little tight, so your back was almost hitting the wall behind you. Now that Bucky was fully awake, he took a better look at you and your outfit.

You looked gorgeous.

Bucky gave that mischievous smile of his which prompted you to move away. But it was too late, he quickly grabs you before you had the chance to run out.

"Where'd you think you're goin'?"

He then pulls you towards him by your hips and starts to tickle your sides relentlessly.

"God stop Bucky, s'too much --" you giggled as he continued his antics.

"Nuh uh, I ain't stopping until you give me a kiss!" He laughs and then proceeds to pepper your face with kisses. The feeling of his light stubble tickled your skin as you writhed under his touch.

Eventually, he stops and places one big kiss on your lips. The stain from your lipstick transfers onto his lips while you try to hold in your laugh.

"You're silly you know that right?" You breathe out as you try to wipe the lipstick of his lips with your thumb.

"Mmh yeah I know. But I only act silly for you." Bucky murmured while giving you heartwarming look and a lopsided grin.

Sometimes you forget how cute he can get when he wants attention from you.

His hands reached down towards your cheeks and gently caressed them with his thumb. He was impossibly close now as his nose nuzzles against yours.

"Bucky, we have a party to attend -" your breath hitches at his close proximity.

"C'mon doll, just one kiss?" his words were slurred with a heavy accent. He swipes the bottom of your lip with his thumb.

Bucky leans in again, lightly grazing your lips with his as your breath hitches. He glances into your eyes, silently asking for your permission.

"Damn in Bucky..." you breathe out before finally giving in. You press his lips against his in a steady motion while fingers entangle into his hair and tug at it gently, pulling out a low groan from Bucky.

The kiss was sweet and gentle at first before Bucky deepens it. You know for sure that your lipstick was no ruined which kind of annoyed you. But the way Bucky had his hands all over you caused your thoughts to be clouded with lust.

He had already reached for the back of your dress,undoing the neatly tied bow. You swiftly caught hold of his hand before he could fully take it off.

"Bucky we can't be doing this right now. What about -" , Bucky shuts you up by locking his lips with yours. Nibbling on your bottom lip, making you whine. His hand carefully hikes the hem of the skirt up, revealing your dainty cotton underwear.

"Oh? What do we have here..?" he drawls as his slender fingers crept over your throbbing cunt. Your cheeks darkened at the sultry question. He knew exactly how to get you riled up.

You're not sure when it happened, but you only grew more wet just by his painfully hot touch.

He moves from your lips down towards your jaw, just barely ghosting over the skin.

He parted his lips slightly, revealing a glimpse of anticipation before he dipped his head. Warm lips pressing a tender, lingering kiss to your jawline.

You let out a string of moans as he rubs into your hip with his fist and skillfully undresses you with the other unoccupied hand.

He slips his hand past your underwear and teasingly ghosts the hole of your cunt, making you shiver with anticipation. Deep down, you want this. You wanted him.

It had been a while since he's had you like this, so you had a lot of pent-up sexual tension. And you're sure he felt the same. Bucky smirked as he noticed your facial expression contour into pleasure and finally stuck his index finger inside. Deep enough for an audible squelch to echo in the washroom.

"Does it really feel that good?" he snickers while you roll your eyes at her comment. You grab the hem of his shirt and pull him into a seering hot kiss. You couldn't let him have all the fun.

Tugging at the ends you asked for permission to take it off. He tuts and guides your hand towards the nape of his neck.

"You're the one who said we can't be late. Besides, I'm the one treating you today." You knew he was referring to your job as a nurse when you usually take care of him. It somewhat warms your heart at the kind consideration.

Half an hour into the session, he has you sprawled out on your bed as he continued to finger fuck you after eating you out. He still had your arousal on his mouth as his lips melts into yours. You whimper against his lip as you could taste yourself on his tongue.

All while, he innocently whispers sweet nothings against your now swollen lips. Already becoming exhausted from the constant thrusting from Buckys slender fingers.

"You're doin' so well f'me love", he whispers sweetly. A stark contrast to his actions as you didn't have time to react while he pulls out tantalisingly slow and eagerly shoves it back in.

You cover your mouth against your hand to muffle your moans as he continues hitting at your g-spot. Your pelvis unkowngly bucks into his hand, wanting more than you could take.

Bucky's nuzzles into the crook of your neck, leaving a series of dark hickeys all over down your bare chest. Your nipples perked as he had one mound in his mouth and the other between his unoccupied fingers.

Your dress was still on. He had only just slipped off the sleeves and taken off your bra.

Not to mention It was hard to keep yourself sane when Bucky looked so irresistible himself. Bucky takes in your appearance while he slows down the pace, letting you breathe.

You looked so effortlessly pretty.

Your cheeks were rosy and wet from your tears.The curls of your hair unravelled and cascaded down your shoulders and your perfect pink lips, swollen and slightly bleeding.

"Bucky I'm so close--!"

He had you fucking on his fingers for so long you couldn't even check the time on the clock, your vision blurred from your tears.

At last you finally burst, unleashing a wave of pleasure across your body.

Helping you ride through your orgasm until the only thing heard in the room was lewd , wet noises coming from your sopping cunt.

You both were panting, one more than the other.

His tie was now loose along with the first few buttons of his shirt. The jacket that he paired with it was thrown somewhere on the floor in the room and his combed back hair now messy.

Bucky leans into your touch when you reach up with one hand to caress his cheek.

"Bucky, how are you so pretty?" You whispered in a gentle tone.

"Thank you, doll, but I should be the one telling you that." He replies while pressing a gentle kiss into the palm of your hand. You sighed in content as he picks you up bridal style and walks back towards the washroom.

"Now let's both take a bath together. How does that sound, hm?"

Meanwhile back at the party, Steve and Peggy wait for you both impatiently. It had been almost an hour since the party had started and there was still no sign of you or Bucky.

"Look here they come now," Peggy let's out a frustrated sigh. Steve almost let's out a laugh when he spots his friends practically run towards them on the deck.

"Hey! Sorry we're late!" Bucky yells as he stops infront of the couple.

You hug them both and apologise to Peggy for being late. She compliments your dress and you two carry on your conversation from there.

He had a feeling he knew the reason why you guys were so late but he decided to keep his mouth shut. You had your neck covered with your jacket collar so that was probably a dead giveaway.

The place was lit with fairly lights and makeshift decorations made by the soldiers. Everyone had come to greet you both and things kicked off from there.

But there was something wrong with Bucky as he seemed pretty nervous and jittery around you. You brushed it off as him being himself but you had no idea what was in store for you later that very moment.

As the party went on, you hear the whirring sound of a plane heading towards the boat.

You and Bucky were leaning againgst the rails as Bucky watches you from the corner of his eye. His hand had reached into his back pocket while he bit back a smile.

"Look Bucky! I think my name is on that banner," you exclaimed while the plane flew by. You turn your attention back to another plane following close behind. Bucky hums In agreement, seemingly nervous as the next plane went by.

Your breath catches in your throat as you read the message written on it.

'Will you marry me?'

You were in shock when you felt Bucky shift next to you. You turn back to see him down on one knee and a box in hand. Bucky couldn't contain his excitement as he slowly opened the box, revealing a diamond ring.

"So doll...what do you think about spending the rest of our lives together?" Bucky repeats the question with hesitance apparent in his voice.

"Yes! I'd love to!!" Bucky catches you as you fall into his arms and gently pats your hair as you cry into his arm.

Embracing eachother for a while before pulling away with tears running down both your cheeks and you give him a soft smile. He tries fighting back his own tears as he gingerly places the ring onto your finger.

Peggy and Steve watched from a distance with proud smiles on their faces. They couldn't be happier for you both!

Cheers erupt from the soldiers as they throw confetti and balloons down towards the deck where you both were.

"Whoo!! Congrats Sarge!"

"You better invite us to the wedding!!"

They all shout over eachother as you two both laugh at their enthusiasm.

"Don't worry you're all invited!!" Bucky shouts back while they all cheer louder.

He then reaches for the dog tags he had hanging around his neck and slipped one around your own.

"I'm giving you this so you can keep a piece of me with you when I'm gone." He whispers gently.

"I'll keep it safe."

You play with the trinket fondly then peer up at him through your wet lashes.

"I don't have anything for you though," you mumbled with a sad look on your face.

"Doll, you saying yes to marrying me is more than enough ok?" He replies while pulling you in by the waist. You tiptoe to reach his height before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I love you James Bucky Barnes."

"I love you too angel," he whispers as he leans into your warmth, pressing a loving kiss on your lips.

The worries of tomorrow can wait. For now? You enjoy the peace and think of plans for your future wedding.

When the war was over.

p.s - sorry this was kinda long and it had a rushed ending but I hope you enjoyed it!!