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themorningsunshine · 8 months
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Hi! The Pie-eyed over you series is truly the best series I’ve ever read on here! I just know that the angst is going to hurt so good. I just wanted to tell you how amazing you are doing and I hope you are enjoying your break. Absolutely no rush whatsoever but whenever you get back to writing i was wondering if I could be add to the tag list. I cannot wait to support more of your work❤️❤️❤️
Hey, Thank you so much for your kind words. I kind of really needed them today.
Things haven't really been "good" and I know I have over-extended my break and I am so so sorry about that to everybody.
I am trying to get back to writing but with everything that's happened, I don't know how.
But I promise, I will be back.
Maybe it won't be today or tomorrow or this week, but I am hoping things will get better.
Thank you once again and adding you to the taglist right away. :)
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themorningsunshine · 9 months
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A break from writing
Hey, guys 
First of all, thank you all for showing so much love to Pie eyed over you. From a supposedly mini drabble to a full length series, it sure has come a long way and it’s all because of all of you. 
That’s what makes this so much more difficult. 
I have a lot of stories planned, series to update, but right now, I am currently at a position where I have to take a break from writing. 
It’s all just personal. A lot of things are going on right now, and I feel extremely overwhelmed to write. I love putting out stories for you guys to read and hence, don’t want to force myself to write just for the sake of it. 
This break can last from a month to two, but I promise I will be back. 
I hope you guys will understand. 
Hope to see you soon ;) 
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themorningsunshine · 9 months
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Aww. This made my day 
Thank you so much, hon 
Hope I don’t disappoint 
Pie-eyed over you Series Masterlist
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Pairing - Mafia!Bucky Barnes x f!reader
Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.
Warnings - Each chapter has its own warnings but in general, this story will contain weapons, murder and a hell lot of sweets.
You can also read it on AO3.
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Chapter 1 : Cupcakes
Chapter 2 : Brownies
Chapter 3 : Muffins
Chapter 4: Pancakes
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Keep reading
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themorningsunshine · 10 months
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This is so interesting 
Please, send me an ask :) 
 ﹟random get-to-know-me ask game  !! 
orchid ⇢ what’s a song you consider to be perfect?
cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)?
bamboo ⇢ do you change into a different outfit when you get home?
abelia ⇢ do you have a particular piece of jewelry you always wear or can’t part with?
daffodil ⇢ do you have siblings? if yes, in what ways do you think you’re similar to or different from them?
mahonia ⇢ what place, thing, activity inspires you most and how do you express yourself when it does?
chia ⇢ what’s an inside joke you have with someone else?
sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?
edelweiss ⇢ how’d you think of your url/username? what’s it associated with to you?
camellia ⇢ what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot?
jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?
ivy ⇢ what are your ‘tells’ for your emotions and moods? how can someone tell you’re happy, annoyed, upset or tired?
chamomile ⇢ what kind of things do you like receiving as gifts?
aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?
palm tree ⇢ do you have a fictional villain you shouldn’t like but love regardless?
nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?
papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with?
taro ⇢ if someone called you right now to catch up, what’re the things you’d tell them about?
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themorningsunshine · 10 months
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*insert hysterical laugh* 
Pancakes
Pie eyed over you - Chapter 4
Mafia - Baker AU
Masterlist                        Series Masterlist
Previous Part
Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader
Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.
Warnings - Implied smut, Making out, wounds, brief mention of first aid, fluff and angst 
Word count - 5.9k
a/n - I really tried writing smut for the first time for this chapter, but realised soon enough that it’s not my cup of tea. Alteast not yet. Maybe some other time. Till then, please let me know what you think :) 
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(I couldn’t find a more accurate gif. It in no way represents the reader) 
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themorningsunshine · 10 months
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Be My Muse
Pairing - Aritst!Bucky Barnes x Reader (Childhood best friends to lovers)
Summary - Muse - A person or spirit that gives an artist the desire to create things
Bucky has been in love with you for years, but just can’t get himself to say it. So, instead, he decides to show you.
Warnings - None, just fluffy fluff 
Word Count - 2.4k 
a/n - This is for @buckybarnesevents ‘s Connect 4: June-iverse event. Card Number - C4037 for the prompt C1 - Aritst. Thank you to the lovely @bluehourbucky​ for motivating me to actually finish writing this. 
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themorningsunshine · 10 months
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hi! could you possibly add me to the tag list of pie-eyed! thank you so much and i’m so excited to see where the series is gonna go! 🫶🫶
Sure
Thank you so much for reading :)
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themorningsunshine · 10 months
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I will NEVER stop going back to read this fic 
It deserves all the love in the world
The plot, the angst, the details, HOW CAN SOMETHING BE SO BEAUTIFUL AND STILL WRECK YOU? (All caps ‘cause I’m screaming) 
Into Cursed Pixie Dust
Fandom: MCU
Characters/Pairings: Winter Soldier x F Reader
Word Count: 8.9K
Summary: “He's credited over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years…” but you don’t know that. You run into him once, then again, again, again. Destiny draws you together, and neither of you can deny the pull. And yet though he never ages, you do.
Warnings: SMUT, morally grey Winter Soldier, cheating (don’t read/complain if you don’t want it), penetrative sex, sex while pregnant, fingering, WS doesn’t stalk reader but territorially has his eyes on her/is aware of her when she’s in his orbit? Minors do not interact.
Additional Notes: First LENGTHY fic here. This idea crept up on me somewhat inspired by the feeling and some of the lyrics of Mazzy Star’s Into Dust, elements of Peter Pan folklore as he never ages and Winter Soldier also has that unconventional relationship with time, and the concept that he could keep encountering the same person – not every time he’s sent on a mission, but a few times, enough for it to be significant. Part of me also liked the challenge of trying to tie him to nefarious deeds/political intrigue/etc and going down some Google and Wikipedia rabbit holes to spin the timeline of encounters together (you can see the notes/significance/context for each date at the end of the fic).
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July 1961 – St. Tropez, France
You are rushing as fast as your short heels would allow down to the docks. Your parents had left the house late for their weekend away to Cannes, which meant you were late sneaking out to Hank’s boat party, but you knew you could still make it if you kept a quick enough pace. You couldn’t run and show up in a huff of sweat and disheveled hair, but swift strides should still serve to get you there before Hank gave word to pull away from shore. Hank usually ran a little late himself, but you still needed to make good time.
Hank was the oldest of the Stanton siblings, and it was his youngest sister and your best friend Helen who was your connection to this social circle. It wasn’t going to be an excessively large party, but Hank hadn’t put a stop to any of the rumors of the various summer St. Tropez social elites that could be confirmed on his guest list. Brigette Bardot was among those names, but you were angling to catch Hudson Stanton’s eye – middle son of the Stantons and recently unattached and thus newly eligible bachelor.
You don’t give more than a glance as you approach the next street and made to cross, hearing no engines around this part of the town, and so swift is your pace that you are knocked clean off your feet as someone else appears from around the corner, colliding with your path.
You let out a small scream as you fall, not out of fear, but frustration.
“Are you alright?”
Your pride is smashed for the moment, and you can already feel that your right hip, right elbow, and the heel of your right hand would be very tender and sore, if not bruised, but you didn’t seem to be bleeding, thank goodness.
You frown but reach to take the hand of the offender, who’d leaned closer to help you get up. “You should be more careful and watch where you’re going!” you huff as he hoists you up almost effortlessly. You know you should have been looking more closely yourself, but it was definitely him, too.
After smoothing the fabric of your dress, you lift your face up to look at him, and your breath catches in your throat.
The stranger is tall and dressed in a black dinner jacket, with short brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and a firm jaw. “My apologies,” he said.
You take half a step back, pulling your hand out of his gloved hand, and smooth it over your dress again, looking down to see if it has torn or been soiled. “Is my dress alright?” you ask, looking back up to his face and turning slightly.
His eyes scan your figure, and suddenly you wish you hadn’t asked, heat rising up your neck and across your cheeks under the man’s intense gaze.
He reaches out and straightens part of your sleeve. “There. Good now.”
“Thank you.”
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asks.
“The docks; a boat party is leaving soon.”
“A young dame like you shouldn’t be walking through this part of the city alone.”
You frown at him. “I’m twenty-one and perfectly capable of getting somewhere on my own, thank you very much.”
The corner of his mouth twitches up. “I’d feel better if I could walk you there after our little incident.”
Maybe it would be good to have an escort for a few more minutes. “Fine, but only because you’re insisting, and only until we get to the docks. I can’t sneak you into the party.” And you didn’t want anyone to see this man walking you straight up to Hank’s boat. There were more than enough nosy Nellies that would immediately ask about him and spread that circulate the rumors like lightning.
With a nod of his head, he takes your hand and tucks it in the crook of his elbow, his gloved hand covering your fingers, a silent indication to keep hold of his arm.
“This way?” he asks, inclining his head to the left. You nod, and he whisks you away immediately.
He asks short, leading questions designed to keep words tumbling out of your mouth so he could stay focused on completing his mission, but of course you don’t know that. He’s too good at what he does for you to even question. You assume the kindness of a gallant, tall, dark, and handsome stranger. To him you’ve become the convenient cover as he puts distance between himself and the restaurant where three still bodies bleed out. Anyone looking for him won’t consider what looks like a young couple in love as they comb the streets for an assassin.
He’s walked you nearly all the way to the docks when tires screech as a car up at the corner ahead takes the sharp turn and begins coming your way, and no less suddenly, your escort has flung you up against the wall, a hand over your mouth before you can make a sound. You are breathless as your turn your head slightly to look at him. The two of you are not entirely in the shadows, and your bodies aren’t totally flush against each other, but the right half of his body has you pinned up against the wall, one leg planted between yours. You’ve shared a few kisses with some suitors, but this is the closest a man has ever been to you, complete contact from hips to shoulders. One hand is still hovering over your mouth, and the other has come up to brace your shoulder. He inclines his head down slightly to hover next to your ear, and the whisper of a breath you feel on your neck makes you shiver.
“Just a moment,” he promises.
It’s intoxicating.
The car passes. You both hear another car speeding down the road from the opposite direction, and he continues to hold you in what looks to anyone else like an intimate daliance.
Once the second car has passed, he steps away, and you can only blink at him for a few seconds before you recover.
He slips your hand into his arm again and tugs you back along the street.
He doesn’t usher you back into conversation, but it’s only another block before the buildings come to an end to give way to the network of St. Tropez docks.
He removes your hand from his arm and says, “Stay out of trouble,” before stepping back away from you and disappearing into the shadows, heading down another alley.
You shake your head and turn around, not knowing whether you really expect to see him or where he went. Ahead you hear another car pass, but this one has music playing loudly, and you smile and remember where you’re going. The more steps you take toward the docks, the more the music and then loud voices and laughter pull you in and push out the thoughts surrounding the man you just encountered. Helen calls your name, jumping and waving at the end of a small yacht, and then a smile beams across your face, and you forget the stranger almost completely.
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November 12, 1963 – Dallas, Texas, United States
You didn’t think of him again until you see him across the way at the hotel bar, a small glass of something in front of him that looks untouched, his eyes on you. You bite your lip and incline your head to the side slightly. He gives a single small nod in response.
Suddenly Helen is arriving in a huff next to you, explaining the chaos of the last hour she’s had getting ready, the unexpected call from her soon-to-be mother-in-law, and the handful of other excuses that made her late meeting you here. Once she’s settled and ordering her drink, you look back across the bar, but your forgotten memory of a man is nowhere to be seen, the now empty glass the only indication you hadn’t made it up entirely.
You and Helen have a cocktail each before it’s time to head across the street to the restaurant to meet your respective fiancés for dinner.
The reason you hadn’t thought of that whirlwind encounter again was because that night on the yacht had exceeded your own expectations, catching Hudson Stanton’s eye early in the evening, laughing over dinner, dancing, watching the stars alone on the top deck, sharing your first kiss, and then, and then, and endless letters while you were apart, summers and holidays and weekends together while you finished school, and now an engagement ring on your finger, and you in Dallas this weekend to look at a house as Hudson’s firm has transferred him to head up their first office in the great state of Texas, your big New Year’s Day wedding less than six weeks away.
Dinner with Hudson, Helen, and Jack is just as you expected. Helen and Jack beg the pair of you to go dancing with them, but Hudson maintains he’s got to turn in early since he has to pick up his boss from the airport in the morning, Helen and Jack don’t press too hard, and you don’t expect to see Helen return to your hotel room that night, suspecting she’ll end up with Jack all night instead.
Hudson walks you back to your hotel and kisses you goodnight before you go inside. He won’t even walk you to the elevator because you both know if you get him that far, he won’t be able to refuse just the ride up, and then just walking you to your door, and…
You love and loathe how much of a gentleman he is.
Your thoughts are still sweetly lingering on Hudson as you walk through the hotel lobby. It’s busy tonight, music spilling out from the ballroom, and you start humming along with the familiar tune the band is playing.
You’re reaching to press the button for the elevator when a hand catches yours, and you whip your head to find it’s the stranger from the bar, the mystery man from that night in St. Tropez.
“You!” Your rockets into your throat.
“Come with me,” he insists.
His hand is warm, and your eyes are locked, and that intoxicating feeling you’d felt with your back pressed up against the wall floods back over you because even just the gaze from his intense blue eyes is too much. He’s not real. He can’t be.
But you nod, and he pulls you swiftly through the bodies milling about the lobby and into the ballroom. Once inside, he continues further into the room, and sweeps you into the swirl of bodies dancing in the middle. It’s darker here, but you can see every detail of his face, suddenly so close to yours again. There are too many questions you could ask, so you ask none. Your bones are melting as he holds your body flush against his, totally caught up in the movement and the music as he leads you around the dance floor.
You’re blissfully unaware that you have become an invisibility cloak to him again, this time an instrument to get close enough to his targets to verify them and register their voices in his head. He could have done this without you, but he ignores that. Using you as a cover make this easier, and his superiors don’t care how an assignment is completed if it’s done efficiently and without any trouble to clean up.
The first song you dance to is jaunty and keeps you smiling and feeling breathless. You don’t look at him much, your eyes moving around the room, taking everything in. He leads well, but the pace is so quick that you’re looking around as well to make sure you don’t bump into anyone. The next song is slow, a sweet Sinatra standard. You don’t know if he pulls you in or if you push your body closer to him, but within moments of the shift of the tone on the dance floor, you’re moving as one. His right hand has dropped to the small of your back and is not merely resting there, but intently holding you against him.
This was never part of his training, but his body knows how to move around the ballroom without a second thought. As you sway slowly together, he maneuvers you to a darker corner of the dance floor. Your head is inclined slightly, placing your cheek closer to his, and he presses his face to yours briefly. Then the two of you are in an alcove, hidden from nearly everyone, and your back is against the wall again. His lips brush your cheek, and you turn your head up to look at him. He keeps his right hand at the small of your back, but his left hand drops your hand and comes to the side of your neck, his thumb brushing softly over your jawline, his eyes searching yours. You nod, and his mouth captures yours.
The kiss is heated and hungry, he will devour you, and in this moment you don’t care. You cling to him, one hand snaking up his back to hold desperately to his shoulder as you pull closer to him, and the other clutching at his chest where you feel some sort of armored metal near his heart for a moment. He nips at your bottom lip, and you gasp and open your mouth to him. His tongue plunges in to stroke yours, to taste you.
He’s on an entirely different mission now, and his lips move from your mouth to trail along your jaw to that spot behind your ear, and you moan. You can feel an answering rumble in his chest, and his lips continue down the side of your neck, to your collarbone, making you gasp. You long to whimper his name but realize you can’t.
“Wait, wait,” you whisper, and his lips trail back up your throat.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, his breath hot as it ghosts over your ear.
“No, just–” you fight to coherently string your words together, “What’s your name?”
He pulls away slightly to look into your eyes, and you think you see a flash of uncertainty, but then it’s gone, and his lips move back to burrow in the crook of your neck, and he murmurs, “You don’t need to know that.”
“But I want to know,” you press, your fingers softly playing with his bowtie.
“We don’t always get what we want,” he says firmly, and suddenly there’s all kinds of space between you. He’s retreating, and you reach your hand out to touch his face, but he shakes his head, and then he disappears around the corner.
You stomach has plummeted, and so it takes you too long to step forward and look around the corner and back into the crowd. There’s no sign of him, so there’s no point in following, you know that. You fall back into the alcove and press up against the wall, hands clutched to your chest, heaving from the heated moment but also now from the fight to keep from crying.
You wait until you’re calm enough to step out of the shadows again, smoothing your dress and your hair. You keep along the edges of the party, careful not to draw anyone’s attention, then move across the lobby and to the elevator. You keep your eyes focused up on the arrow above the sliding doors that moves slowly from left to right as the lift rises to your floor, dinging when it hits the ten. Once you’re in your room, you close the door behind you, and rest back against it, letting your head fall back, eyes stinging again, but you bite your lip and shake your head and push away from the door.
As you move further into your room, your breath catches as you see an enormous display of more white and pink roses and peonies than you can count. You step quickly forward and snatch the card that is sticking out of the arrangement.
All my love, Holden
You smile and press the card to your chest, letting your other hand drift to touch the soft petals. With reluctance you set down the card and step away from the flowers to kick your shoes off and start to get ready for bed. Your eyes are drawn back to the flowers frequently as you move around the room and in and out of the bathroom.
The phone rings, and you pick up after the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Darling, did you get the flowers?”
“Yes, they’re perfect,” you sigh and sit on the bed.
The longer you talk, the more you’re glad you shared nothing more than a few kisses with your stranger, and the sting of shock and his sudden abandonment drift further and further away. Holden’s voice is a balm to your soul. You settle more comfortably into the bed, and you two talk until you fall asleep.
You wake again at some point not long after midnight to the beeping of the phone being off the hook, place it back on its cradle, and properly crawl under the covers, finding sleep again almost instantly.
Planning for a wedding and a move to a new home out of state would have been enough to occupy your thoughts and push the stranger and his intense blue eyes and heated kisses out of your mind, but added to that the following day in Dallas, minutes after you stood and waved at the presidential motorcade with Holden and Helen and Jack, you and the rest of the country and the rest of the world receive the horrifying news that John F. Kennedy has been shot, and then the news escalates from a shooting to the assassination of the American president. Trivial thoughts are long gone.
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March 14, 1972 – Milan, Italy
You’re on a business trip with Hudson. Well, sometimes. Mostly you’re on a trip where you’re scheduled and bustled around with fifteen of the other office wives. You don’t usually mind, but there was no way you wanted to spend two hours on a bus to and then another two hours back from today’s excursion, and the women don’t fuss over you making your excuses to stay behind since you haven’t made them often on this trip, and you have ample valid excuses to draw from at the drop of a hat in your condition.
Today you wanted the day to yourself, just one day away from Marjorie, the middle-aged queen bee of all the wives. One day to do as you please.
You stay in bed just a little later than usual, eat breakfast on the patio of the hotel restaurant, then slowly amble around some of the tourist points of the city that your hired guides had whipped through in a frenzy the first few days with you and the other wives.
You think you see him first during your long lunch, but it’s across the street, and it’s probably not him anyway.
But it is him, and you didn’t see him first. You don’t know he saw you yesterday.
After you meander back to your hotel room, you draw a bath, intending to read for the rest of the afternoon. You twist your hair up, then sink into the tub. You read until the water’s lost its heat, then you wrap up in a silk robe and move out to the chaise lounge chair. You ring down to have afternoon tea service brought up to your room. It’s been years since you’ve had this kind of time – husband and house and two children already traipsing around your home while preparing for a third and the Junior League meetings and social and work functions. It’s been eight days in Italy, and half of you misses the hustle of home, but half of you wants to stay here away from the bustle like this forever.
A quarter of an hour later, there’s a quick trio of knocks, and you stretch and set your book down before rising to answer the door.
“Come in,” you offer, pulling the door open wide so the tea cart can be pushed in, and you quickly walk toward the small balcony and slide the glass door open to indicate that’s where you’d like them to leave your tea.
The tea cart has not been pushed along behind you though. It’s only been pushed a few feet into the room from the door, which the man, who is not hotel staff, is closing quietly.
He removes the uniform hat, places it on the corner of the tea cart, and runs a hand through his hair as he turns to look at you. His hair is a longer than it was in Dallas almost ten years earlier, but those impossibly blue eyes lock onto yours with the same intensity they did back then.
“It was you earlier today.”
He nods.
You stand motionless, but he strides across the room, not quickly, but not slowly either.
“What are you doing here?”
He does not answer with words, but with a kiss that pulls your soul from your chest up into your throat. Your hands come to his chest, and the natural inclination is to pull him closer, but somehow your brain registers that you should push him away. You can’t seem to put the effort into pushing against him, but you do hold him at bay and manage to turn away from him.
“I’m married,” you say.
“I don’t care that you’re married,” he responds, his hand brushing up your arm to your shoulder, then across to the base of your neck, drawing a shiver from you. “Unless he’s a bastard,” he adds.
“Why do you care at all?” It’s not a bitter question, just honest curiosity from you.
“I shouldn’t, but our paths have crossed too many times not to. We must belong to each other.”
He steps closer, and you feel the heat of him against your back. His hand moves to skim over your right collar bone, then down across your chest, slipping so easily into your silk robe, and palming your left breast. You moan sinfully, your right hand coming up to cover his, your fingers twining together.
Then another flash in your mind and you pull his hand away and turn back to face him.
“I’m married,” you repeat again, and you draw his hand down to the very new baby bump that is still mostly undetectable to others.
His eyes drop to your stomach, where your hands are resting together. The calculations are happening quickly, you can see it on his face. His eyes dart back up to yours, hand moving from your stomach to your hip.
“I came to claim what’s mine.”
He’s so close, and he’s looking at you with so much heat.
“I–“
You lose your ability to continue thinking clearly when both of his hands come up to capture either side of your neck.
“You,” he insists, his lips descending on yours, cutting off any more protest. “You’re mine.”
The kiss is demanding, and his hands don’t move from where they frame your neck until he can feel the moment you surrender to the kiss and to him. It’s a small sigh falling from your mouth that you can’t hold back, parting your lips, and his tongue slips in. Both of his hands from your neck across your clavicle to your shoulders, purposefully slipping beneath the silk robe, pushing it off. He easily releases the tie at your waist, and you don’t stop the robe from falling away completely, pooling on the floor.
His kisses are relentless, but his lips move to your jaw, and then your neck. Your head falls back, and he draws a moan from you when he pauses to tongue the sensitive spot where your neck and collarbone meet.
Then his mouth descends to your breasts, kissing along the curve of your left breast, then moving to the right. His right hand moves up to palm and gently squeeze one breast while he licks and sucks the nipple of the other. Finally powerless to fight anymore, your hands thread through his hair, urging him to continue. He easily scoops you up into his arms, bringing you into his chest, and your legs wrap around him, lips meeting each other again. He walks you over to the bed and tosses you onto the mattress.
You’re breathless, but so is he, standing above you at the edge of the bed. His blue eyes have blown with the lust he won’t deny, the lust he demands. He’s only looking at you, but the scorching heat of his eyes as they move over your nearly naked body have you burning in a way that you’ve never felt before. It’s overwhelming, and yet not unwelcome.
Before your head and your heart can catch up with your core, he reaches for your ankles and draws your body down to the edge of the mattress. He is quick in removing the last bit of clothing from your body, tossing the panties behind him without another thought.
Your arms are down by your sides, hands grasping at the sheets, watching as he undoes his pants, pushing them down around his thighs with his underwear in one go. His cock is hard and ready. Your eyes follow his hands now, and his right hand grazes along your inner thigh, coming to rest on top of your mound. He brushes his thumb over your folds and releases a deep satisfied hum, finding you hot and wet. You bite your lip as you look back up into his face. His thumb pushes inside you, and the small whimper that escapes you betrays what you were trying desperately to deny from him and from yourself.
He leans down over you, using his left arm to brace himself above you, removes his thumb from your entrance and slips in two long fingers, drawing a sigh from you.
“Just this moment,” he says, “this afternoon.” His lips seek yours again.
“Just this,” you agree and then continue the feverish kiss.
“Just you,” he murmurs against your cheek. He moves his hand and presses his cock warmly against you, teasing the tip in and out of your folds.
You look down to see where your bodies are connecting as he slides his into your cunt. Slowly he pulls back out, guiding the head of his penis over your clit, causing your hips to buck up into him at the sensation. You can feel him watching your face, taking in your reaction. You close your eyes as he slides into you again, and the exquisite fullness draws a moan from your lips.
He draws back out, then pushes in again, then another slow draw out, and back in till you take his length completely. Your breath comes in short gasps as you adjust to his size, and you clutch at the front of his uniform jacket. He brushes his right hand over your cheek, and you turn your head slightly to kiss his palm, a silent assurance that you’re okay.
He pulls your leg up to rest over his shoulder, and it seats him more deeply inside of you. The sound you make is one you’ve never made before as he starts thrusting again with this new angle. While his left hand stays planted at your side on the bed, his right hand freely explores your body, drifting up and down your neck, palming your breast, squeezing at your waist, brushing along your thigh, gripping your hips, threading into your hair to pull you in for another kiss, skimming over your shoulder. It’s a starved, hungry touch, and your body sings everywhere his fingers seek out.
Once he finds his rhythm, he is relentless, pumping more quickly. That he’s still mostly clothed while you’re naked beneath him is maddening but reassuring – you feel vulnerable beneath him, but if it was skin to skin with every inch of your bones pressing into his, it would be too intimate, completely undeniable. The single barrier keeps you from being consumed by this enigma, and since you know he’s going to disappear, you need that.
Both of you are breathing in heavy pants, and while he’s still drawing moans and whimpers from you, he’s been maddeningly silent. He adjusts his hips slightly so he can move his hand between you, fingers seeking out your aching clit, rubbing concentrated, furious circles over the bud. The band within you is pulling tighter and tighter, until and he achieves his goal in pushing you over the edge. You bite back a scream, and his mouth covers yours once again with a kiss to stifle the noise and possibly steal a bit of your soul – at least that’s how it feels as he fucks you through your climax, chasing his own end. You roll your hips slightly beneath him, and the shift makes his breath hitch. Two more powerful thrusts, and he stops, spilling his seed inside you, the low groan escaping him as gratifying to your ears as the feel of him sinking against you, pumping in and out of you slowly a few more times. Then he stills, and time seems to stop, the two of you just holding onto each other.
Satisfied.
He kisses the side of your neck again, and you hum contentedly. Your fingers brush gently through his hair. He squeezes your hip again, then suddenly rolls off you and moves from the bed. You want to reach for him, pull him back for more, but you don’t. He must disappear again.
After pulling up his trousers, he retrieves your robe and panties from the floor and sets them on the bed next to you. He does lean in for one final kiss, and you arch up to meet his lips. When he can feel you begin to melt again, he draws away, looking back only once when he reaches the door. You will remember that hint of a smile for years.
He disappears like a shadow.
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December 16, 1991 – suburban area of Washington, D.C., United States
You sigh and drum your fingers against the steering wheel. You’ve just dropped your youngest off at high school and been to the grocery store. The traffic isn’t terrible, but it seems to be more congested and moving more slowly through this part of town than normal, and you’re bored and impatient. Suddenly you hear a commotion above the sounds of your radio, and you roll your window down and look around. There are cars honking, screeching of tires, and shouts in the street, but you can’t see clearly what’s happening as you crane your head to look all around. Only a few other drivers seem to be noticing the strangeness as well. You give up for a moment as the light changes and you pass through the intersection and then into the next block, but then you’re stopped again, waiting at another light, and the sounds grow softer, more distant. You look around again and still can’t seem to see any clue as to what’s going on, but you do see a man all in black with almost shoulder length hair walking incredibly fast down the sidewalk, moving quickly past the pedestrians around him. He is on the left side of the road, but walking your way, so it’s easy for you to follow his progress. He looks up and scans his surroundings, eyes naturally glancing your way, but when he does a doubletake your jaw drops because you know those eyes, that face, though the hair is longer.
His eyes now locked on you. He quickly but casually begins to cross the two lanes of traffic that separated you. “Let me in,” he says when he’s close enough before crossing in front of your car. You reach to unlock the passenger side door, and he slips in just before the light at the next intersection changes and the line of cars you were waiting behind begins to move again.
He sees a dark blue baseball cap left on the backseat by your son and quickly reaches for it, putting it on his own head. “Just drive like normal,” he says, “keep heading north or east.”
You nod and keep going, glancing over briefly to look at his face. He’s watching the streets.
The sound of sirens begins blaring behind you, and a glance in the rearview mirror shows a Chevy Blazer speeding through the quaint traffic, the cops in pursuit right behind. You and the cars around you move to the right and stop as quickly as you can as you’re supposed to – and to get out of the way – and you give your companion a quizzical look.
He shrugs, but there’s a hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth.
 “So, hello,” you finally say after the commotion speeds past and normal traffic has resumes.
“Hello,” he responds.
You tuck your hair behind your ear, then glance at him again. It’s been almost twenty years since that afternoon in your hotel room in Milan. Before you slept together in Italy, you’d been so blissfully and happily married to Hudson. After sex with this stranger, you remained happily married to Hudson – you had certainly reeled from the realization of what had occurred between you two, but you genuinely didn’t have a desire for anything in your life to change. You never told a soul what happened, and after years it finally faded from your conscience.
With this man in your car, however, all the heat and memories from every encounter have flooded back immediately, vivid and undeniable. Part of your core aches. And you try to concentrate on your driving and keeping your breath even. All of that seems like a lifetime ago, almost made up like a fairytale, and yet he’s here, beside you again today, hardly a foot away.
And now he’s looking at you.
“Are you alright?”
His gaze is as intense as it always has been.
Everything about him is the same as it always has been.
But that can’t possibly be true, can it?
“You haven’t changed at all.” The words tumble so quickly out of your mouth, after you finally think of something to say. “What are you… some kind of Peter Pan?”
“If you want.”
“Well, you’ve never given me any other name.”
And just how much he hasn’t changed magnifies in your own mind how much you feel you’ve changed. You’ve aged, with lines around your eyes, five children rounding out your body, elbows the only true angle you feel your figure still has to boast, you know the grey in your hair has started to become more prominent despite your efforts to cover it up. You didn’t do all your make up today, only the essentials, and you’d only tossed on a sweater and jeans for what was supposed to be a typical Monday.
After another few minutes, you’re outside of the town and driving down a stretch of wooded highway.
“When you want to pull over and let me out, anywhere is good, I can make it where I need to go.”
You nod but don’t know exactly how to respond. There’s not an immediately convenient place to pull off, but your mind recalls some of the turn offs up ahead that you’ve passed a few hundred times. You don’t notice you nervously biting your bottom lip.
But he does, his eyes on you more than they are on the road.
“Or we can drive for a while.”
You glance back over at him, then turn your attention back to the road, tapping your thumbs anxiously on the steering wheel, your hands diligently gripping the ten and two position, the speed a little ahead of whatever is playing over the radio because you’re not even aware of the music at this point.
“Are you alright?” he asks again.
You huff out a breath you’ve been holding in. “You make me nervous.”
“You know I will never hurt you, don’t you?”
“Not that kind of nervous.”
The last time you were this close to each other, this man thoroughly fucked you into a mattress, and two decades later your body can’t deny the memories.
Finally, you reach a turnoff for a relatively unimportant road, flanked by forest on both sides. You drive a fair distance from the main road before you finally stop. Then you turn off the car, and return your hand to the wheel, needing that grounding to turn and face those blue eyes.
“I don’t understand. How can you look almost the same? The only thing that’s changed is your hair, some stubble, a new leather jacket.” You turn your head back to look out the windshield at the empty road before you. “You even look at me the same way you did back then, but I’m in no way the same young woman you came across a lifetime ago!”
Hudson still loves and adores you, but he hasn’t looked at you the way this man does in years – with this much heat, so intensely you can hardly breathe.
He never buckled in, so he easily angles his body to face you. Slowly, he reaches across the short space between you, brushing the fingers of his right hand tentatively over your fingers, giving you time to react or stop him, before he eases your hand off the wheel, letting your hand gently fall to rest in your lap. His eyes move to your face, and you close your eyes, holding your breath. His hands move down to unbuckle your seatbelt, and you let your left hand release from its grip on the wheel and shift out of the strap, drawing your hand to your chest. You nervously inhale and exhale. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest.
Then suddenly the slow hesitation is abandoned, and he turns your head towards him to receive his kiss. Lips and tongue urging you to surrender immediately, and you do, mouth opening to him, and he angles your head to deepen the kiss further. The kisses are hungry, those of a starved man. Your hands come up to hold helplessly onto his wrists as he continues to hold your face in his grasp, the overwhelming desire he won’t hold back any longer sweeping you away with him to a neverland where nothing else exists.
After a few moments or a few minutes, you really don’t know, his hands drop down and quickly find the button and zipper of your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping eagerly. Swiftly his left hand pushes your legs apart, his right hand slips down the front of your panties, and your breath hitches as his middle finger purposefully strokes from your clit down your slit, finding you very wet – all for him now. He continues to trace back and forth across your folds, but not quite back up to your clit.
When he finally slides that single long finger inside your heat, you moan, dropping your head back against the headrest. His lips move to your neck, pressing heated kisses slowly up and down the column of your throat, each press of his lips matching the rhythm of his finger moving in and out of you. You press your left hand up to the roof of your car, and the other clutches his forearm. He starts to draw his hand away, but you push him back, your hand sliding now over the back of his, holding him there, and now he slips in a second finger, curling deliciously into your core.
He pulls his head back to watch your face when he moves his thumb to start circling your clit while he continues pumping his fingers, seemingly fascinated by the whimpers and keens he’s pulling from you as he plays your core with expert touch, stroking that spongy spot that deliciously tightens the coil tighter and tighter within you. Your cheeks are totally flushed, and you feel like you’re flying as he pulls you closer to the edge.
“Please,” you rasp desperately, hips rocking into his hand.
He quickens his motions while applying more pressure, giving you what you ask for, and watches your face as you come undone with a breathy, wordless shout, body shaking, your other hand grasping his bicep, curling forward as he slows but continues stroking your clenching walls through the immediate comedown, slowly and more slowly until your breathing finally evens out.
“Look at me,” he says in a low voice that makes your stomach flip again, and you open your eyes. His face is still so close to you.
He withdraws his hand from your core and slips just the tip of his index finger into your open and panting mouth, urging you to taste yourself on him. You suck without thinking, but he only allows you a moment before drawing his hand away and then sucking each of his fingers clean. He wants you to see him enjoy the taste of you on his lips, and when he’s done, he licks his lips, reaches down and gathers more slick from your release on his index finger and then licks it off again, and you can only whimper as you watch, overcome by the still unsatiated level of his lust.
He places slow deliberate kisses up along your jaw, and when he reaches your ear, he whispers, “That’s how I still see you,” and licks the shell of your ear, making you shiver and melt back against the seat.
Then suddenly he withdraws from your personal space, and in the next second opens and closes the passenger side door and you only register the sound quickly enough to see him disappear into the trees.
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October 11, 2001 – Seattle, Washington, United States
You are with Hudson in Seattle. Over the years you have been with him on many business trips, but this was a trip from one coast to the other to see a new grandbaby. The other grandparents have just arrived, so the two of you decided to go to dinner on your own.
As you’re led through the restaurant to your table, you think you see his familiar face far across the dining room, eyes catching briefly, but it’s likely not him.
An hour later you are taking one of the last bites of the dessert you shared with Hudson when the waiter returns. “Is there anything else I can get for you this evening?” he asks.
“Oh, no,” Hudson responds, “just the check, please.”
“It’s already been taken care of, sir.”
“What?” you both ask.
“I was told to say it’s compliments of someone who admires your relationship.”
Hudson reaches across the table to take your hand and says something to the waiter, but you don’t pay attention to his words.
You have no idea how to feel, but you know it had to be him.
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2014
You have seen him a lot this year, but it’s been on the television screen. First as a piece in a storm of news and revelations the day S.H.I.E.L.D. launched and sank three hellicarriers in Washington D.C. and Captain America exposed the remnants of HYDRA that had burrowed within the organization – HYDRA and their “fist,” the Winter Soldier. Then there was the Senate investigation into what went on that day, preceded and followed by many news specials. Now you know more about him than you ever did before, and so much about him makes sense to you, though you imagine you will never know the whole story. Even now, so much that has been pieced together by the media and further sketched out by you is fractured, pieces missing, conjectures tying gaps together.
That he’s resurfaced in your life at this point is perhaps just as it should be. Though not physically present, he provides a consuming something else to think about in the new stage of your life where the other man who has been at the center of your life is also no longer physically present, as you awake and remember with a fresh wave of grief each day.
You’re not consumed by grief, there are still children, and grandchildren, friends, errands, hobbies, dreams, social obligations, but the person who was your constant is gone, and it’s always an ache.
You and Hudson had celebrated your fiftieth wedding anniversary at the beginning of the year, a stroke taking him one afternoon unexpectedly in the early spring. He was your best friend, and the two of you had certainly built a life together. It was not a fairytale perfect marriage, but pretty damn near close, and Hudson was the love of your life despite the man you now know was the Winter Soldier dropping incidents of indiscretion into your history. Over the years you had never spoken of the other man to anyone, reckoning with the incongruence on your own, knowing that the ties to both men existed but who your home was.
Nobody needs to know, all of that merely moments, unconnected to your true life.
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Spring 2016 – Bucharest, Romania
You see him one last time as you lay in a hospital bed. He hovers just outside your door wearing the medical scrubs of the other nurses.
“Jane?” You draw your granddaughter’s attention from her book as she’s curled up in what can only be a moderately comfortable chair at your bedside.
“Yes, Gran?”
“Be a dear and go get me a real cup tea? You said there’s a good café just down at the corner, right?”
She stands and smiles. “I did. And if you’re craving tea, you must be feeling a little better.”
“Mhmm,” you hum. “It will be good for you to stretch your legs, too.”
“Alright, I’ll be back soon.”
“I’ll just wait here.”
She grins and shakes her head. “You better. No adventures without me.”
She slips her jacket on and slips out of your room.
A moment later, he enters.
“Hello, Sergeant Barnes.”
He smirks. “You know who I actually am.”
You nod. “How did you know I was here?”
“I saw you collapse this morning in the museum.”
You shake your head. “It’s nothing serious,” you say as he reaches for your charts.
“Cardiac arrhythmias.”
“Heart palpitations. Light fainting spell this morning. It hasn’t happened for a few years, and I hadn’t been eating properly the last few days. They’re keeping me for observation for twenty-four hours and then they’ll let me go if my heart behaves.”
“Good, you should have a good few years ahead of you still,” he says, almost admonishingly.
He stands at the side of your bed, but at the very foot of it seemingly trying to keep his distance, as if he doesn’t trust himself around others. Now that you know his story, his current behavior makes sense – especially why he was guarded but never hesitant before but keeps that buffer of distance now.
“She looks like you.”
“Jane? She’s a beautiful and brilliant young woman,” you say, a warm smile spreading across your face. “I’ll never admit aloud that she’s my favorite grandchild though.”
He doesn’t respond but gives you a tight-lipped smile.
“She’s my traveling companion for a grand adventure around Europe.”
“It’s only the two of you here in Bucharest?”
You hesitate before answering. “Yes.”
This ageless Peter Pan could capture her easily into his orbit. She’s twenty-one, the same age you were when you first ran into the Winter Soldier. He must suspect that’s what you’re thinking.
“I’ll make sure she stays safe.”
“She’s young.”
“No younger than you were when we met.”
The heat rises in your cheeks. “It’s different.”
He nods and you notice his face soften slightly. “It is. I’m ancient.”
“Come sit by me, old man.” You motion to the chair next to your bed, and he comes forward and takes a seat, perching on the edge, back ramrod straight.
“You said you saw us at the museum. Why do I have the feeling you’ve been watching us since before today?”
He regards you for just a split second before answering. “I stay near the train station, close enough to leave town quickly if I need to. I saw you arrive two nights ago when I was walking back to my place.”
“How often did you see me before I saw you?”
“Every time. There were times you never knew I was there.”
“Were you checking up on me?”
He shook his head. “Not at first. St. Tropez, Dallas, Milan, DC, and Seattle were purely circumstantial, but after DC I did check on where you were when I could.”
“But how did you remember me when they took so much else away from you?”
His face churns out a wry, bitter smile. “Yeah, they took away a lot of who I was, tried to overwrite my memories and what I knew before they took me, but after the initial programming,” his tone with that particular word is more vitriolic than the rest, ”they thought it was good for me to have context and history for the missions they sent me on, the new skills I learned, knowledge I acquired. Wiping was messy, and they had to know what to wipe. You were never an interference of any kind all those years and part of the Winter Soldier – part of me – I think never gave them a hint of your existence because I knew they knew everything else about me, had control over everything, and I didn’t want to risk losing this one piece I had found outside of what they made me. The Winter Soldier wanted the secret and thank God for that because If they’d ever found out about you...”
He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. He studies the pattern of the hospital bedding, and it gives you a moment to study his face – you’re sure he knows this, allows it.
After a moment, you say, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk so much in all our meetings over the years.”
“I didn’t converse much as the Winter Soldier,” he replies, his eyes meeting yours again, his entire presence softening just a degree. “It’s still not something I’m used to yet.”
“I know so much about you now, and I thought I’d have a hundred questions to ask if I ever saw you again, but…”
“But?”
“But I imagine you are still searching and want answers about your own more than I do.” You move your hand to the edge of the bed and offer him your palm. “So just sit with me.”
You almost thought he would refuse, but he removes the glove from his right hand and then carefully puts his hand in yours, his gaze returning to your face.
“Just this afternoon.”
“Just us.”
You brush your thumb over the back of his hand. There isn’t heat between you today, but there’s still a closeness that is only the two of you.
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2026
The next and last time he sees you is from a distance, laid to rest in a beautifully polished wooden casket covered in an abundant spray of white flowers, surrounded in a sea of people in black. He recognizes Jane among them, as well. Though the Winter Soldier had claimed a piece of you belonged to him, destiny entwining your paths too many times in those early years, he could see now and had always been glad to know you had a full life outside your scattered encounters. He sends his goodbye silently across the cemetery from where he watches unseen, and finally slips away.
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TAGLIST: @competitive-dust @royalwritersoftheuniverses
If you want to see more of this, anything else I'm working on, or chat about anything about my stories, MY ASKBOX IS TOTALLY OPEN!
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VERY INFORMAL HISTORICAL/TIMELINE NOTES:
St. Tropez 1961 = St. Tropez was a big port for shipping at the time, so these deaths were two problematic traders making moving things in and out of the port difficult for Hydra.
Dallas 1963 = Assassination of President John F. Kennedy
Milan 1972 = From Wikipedia: Giangiacomo Feltrinelli (45), who had during the 1950s published the smuggled manuscript of Boris Pasternak's novel Doctor Zhivago, but later became a left-wing militant during Italy's Years of Lead, was found dead at the base of a power-line transmission tower outside Segrate, near his native Milan, on 15 March 1972. It was believed that he had died when a bomb he was attempting to plant on the tower went off, and later testimony by other members of the Red Brigades supported this. However, the death was always viewed suspiciously, and in the 2010s forensic reports surfaced that suggested he had been tied to the tower before the bomb went off, with various intelligence agencies inside and outside of Italy suspected of responsibility.
…sounds like the Winter Soldier to me.
Washington 1991 = Howard and Maria Stark and the acquisition of the newly developed super soldier serum.
Seattle 2001 = Unsolved murder of former US Attorney General Thomas Crane Wales, announced by the FBI in 2018 to likely have been the work of a paid hitman – or the Winter Soldier.
2014 = Aftermath of Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Romania 2016 = Theoretically just before the events of Captain America: Civil War.
2026 = arbitrary future date, Bucky just came to pay his respects, no mission or happenstance connected
950 notes · View notes
themorningsunshine · 10 months
Note
I am not crying you are 
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A Solid Foundation
Builder!Bucky Barnes x Fiancé!Fem!Reader
Summary: Your best friend suspects your fiancé of having an affair when he starts working late, but Bucky would never cheat on you, right?
Warnings: slight angst - discussion of Bucky potentially cheating (no actual cheating), soft fluff
Word count: 2.4k
A/N: thank you so much for this gorgeous inspiration my love 💕 this is my second entry for the Connect 4: Into an Alternate June-iverse Event by @buckybarnesevents, for the prompt ‘Modern AU’. Banners by @vase-of-lilies
Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library
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“Where’s Bucky? You two just got engaged, I would have thought he’d barely be able to keep his hands off you - he does at the best of times.” Nat jokes before taking a sip of her wine.
She had been stopping off at your apartment on her way home to drop some supplies for your engagement party next weekend, when you invited her to stay for a drink, wanting to take your mind off your fiancés absence.
“He’s been working late recently.” You try to say nonchalantly, but Nat’s far too observant to miss the disheartened edge to your voice.
“He’s a builder. Start early, finish early, what’s he doing still working at 6:30?” You didn’t know the answer to that question. And though part of you is curious as to what he’s up to, you’re also nervous to find out the truth.
It’s Bucky, the man who has loved you through every high and low, treasured every part of you, especially on those days where your insecurities were at their worst. Who has done the silliest, most embarrassing things just to hear your laugh. Who trusted you enough to reveal his deepest trauma, who comes to your arms for comfort through every nightmare.
You find it difficult to believe that man would be capable of hurting you, even knowing he hadn’t been completely forthcoming with you the past few weeks.
“I’m not sure, he’s been a little secretive since we got engaged. I don’t wanna push him to talk about it, I just wish he knew he can trust me with whatever it is.” You say as Nat supportively takes your hand, something of sympathy in her eyes.
“Oh sweetie, you are far too pure for this world. Working late, the ring, the secrecy - has it crossed your mind that he might be having an affair?”
“It crossed my mind for half a second before I scolded myself. It’s Bucky, he would never cheat on me.” You state with conviction, the memory of each night you’ve fallen to a peaceful sleep in Bucky’s arms only supporting your belief that he would never put himself in that position with someone else.
“As much as I want to believe you, you know I’m a cynic. In my experience men are pigs, you give them an inch and they take a mile. I know he’s sweet and you love him, but at the end of the day, he is a man.”
But Nat doesn’t know Bucky intimately like you do, hasn’t experienced his selfless and generous heart day after day for the past two years, hasn’t been loved all-encompassingly by him like you have.
You’ve never even thought to question his loyalty to you - Bucky has never given you reason to.
You hear keys rattle in the front door and shoot Nat a look which unquestionably screams don’t bring this up.
Bucky smiles instantly when he sees you seated at the dining table, that same adoration and serenity brimming in his eyes as when he always comes home to you. Though you do notice his skin is somewhat flushed, as if he’s just been physically exerting himself, his hair looks a complete mess and appears slightly darker with sweat.
You know exactly what’s running through Nat’s mind at this very moment.
“I’m gonna let you two talk.” She declares with a perceptible tension in her tone as she stands and grabs her purse. “But I swear if you ever hurt her Bucko, you’ll die a slow, painful death.” She vows with a glare that seals her promise. Though you know Nat well enough to perceive she isn’t joking, Bucky seems to think she’s kidding.
“Duly noted Nattie.” He chuckles as he watches Nat shoot you an encouraging look and then make her way out the front door Bucky just walked through. “What was that all about?”
“She’s just being protective.” You justify, not knowing how to, nor really wanting to tell him that your best friend suspects he’s having an affair. “I told her you’d been working late recently.”
“What… she thinks I should instead be here doting on you hand and foot?” Bucky asks as he moves behind where you’re seated, his hands reach for the back of your neck and begin massaging the tension from your shoulders which had built up from your long week at work. “You know I’d much prefer to be here with you than working.” You shudder slightly at his words as he places a gentle kiss to the skin where your neck curves into your shoulder, your body subconsciously revealing that you don’t fully believe he was working.
“What’s wrong, doll?” He asks, feeling your muscles tense even further underneath his hands, and you internally curse yourself for letting Nat’s speculation get under your skin.
“Where were you tonight?” It’s a simple, four word question, yet the weight of significance on his answer feels like your whole world could start crumbling before you depending on his response.
“I told you this morning: Steve needed me working late.” Bucky replies without hesitation. It’s a straightforward answer, yet there’s something about it you can’t quite believe - a half truth that he’s practised too much that doesn’t quite feel natural. “Why do you ask?” There’s a hint of worry to his voice, as if you’re getting a little too close to something he’d like to keep to himself.
“Nat thinks ‘working late’ is code for you cheating on me.” You comment, placing all the blame on your friends postulation rather than your own curiosity.
You hope Bucky won’t hate you too much for indulging in your friends theory, that he won’t completely resent you for insinuating he’s been unfaithful. Because you don’t think he’s cheating on you, but you also don’t believe he was working late tonight.
Instead, Bucky steps towards you and tentatively places two gentle fingers under your chin, tilting your face so that you’re gazing directly into his vulnerable, sincere eyes.
“Doll, you know I would never, ever, hurt you like that. I love you, you’re my whole world, I wanna marry you and spend the rest of my days making you feel as loved and cherished as you make me feel.” You sense the heaviness of your engagement ring on your left hand, you’re still getting used to carrying the small weight of it around with you everyday, though right now it feels substantial.
“I know you wouldn’t Buck, but since you proposed you’ve been a little secretive. Long days, working weekends. I mean you have to admit it’s slightly suspicious.”
He sighs, coming to some sort of internal decision when his gaze meets yours again. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you in an attempt to distract you from the topic of discussion.
“I promise you, I can explain everything, but I think it would be easier to show you.” His hands snake down your arms and when he takes both your hands, pulls you from your seated position at the dining table.
“Show me?” You query, having no idea what that could indicate he’s been keeping to himself.
“Yeah, care for a drive?”
* * *
The night is dark as you sit in the passenger seat watching the world pass you by, the empty roads only lit by periodically placed street lamps and the bright headlights of Bucky’s truck.
You have no idea where he’s taking you - you’ve never been to this part of town before and have no preconceived ideas as to what being here indicates for his unplanned surprise.
Bucky drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other rests comfortingly on your thigh, an indicator that he’s not upset about you insinuating he could be having an affair, and that where he’s taking you to is not a revelation you should be anxious about.
Soon enough he turns down an innocuous street and pulls the car to a slow stop. You're in the middle of a suburban area with expansive blocks of land, stopped a few metres behind an SUV that has stickers of a family of five and a dog on their back window. Looking over at Bucky, you find he’s staring at you with an excited expectantly from the driver's seat.
You turn to look out the car window and the reason Bucky’s been ‘working late’ hits you like a bus.
You’re parked in front of a half built house - at the moment it’s just studs and partitions, with an unemptied skip out the front, but you can see the skeleton of a beautifully spacious two story house.
He’s building you a home.
“Bucky…” You comment under your breath, unable to articulate the swarm of thoughts buzzing around your head and the pure love blooming in your chest like a flower as he rounds the car and opens the passenger door for you.
“I know it doesn’t look like much yet, it’s just the frame and foundation, but soon there will be a roof, walls, windows, and a proper floor. It’ll really start taking shape.” He's nervous, you can tell by his shaky tone of voice, which you find adorable.
“You’re building us a house?” Your stomach contorts with guilt when he smiles crookedly and nods. How could you have ever been suspicious of his long working hours when they were spent building a physical monument to his love for you?
“I wanted to build our dream house, somewhere we can grow old together.” Your heart just about bursts when these words fall from his lips. Though the night is dark, the moon and the small torch Bucky keeps in his truck are the only source of light available, you can see the fondness in his eyes.
You give him a sweet kiss before approaching the house, an outline in chalk on the ground indicates where a front porch will be built and the entry to the house is currently only the rectangular frame of timber.
Bucky starts walking you through the house hand in hand, explaining what he had planned each room to be used for. There's only wooden studs outlining every room and a concrete slab for a floor, but you can already imagine what the space will look like when it’s all complete.
The entry foyer has high ceilings where you can currently see the stars shining, a large winding staircase connects the ground floor with the one above. To one side is a large garage, an offset office and bathroom, to the other has a large sitting room.
As Bucky pulls you further into the structure, the house opens up to a large, open plan living area. You can picture cooking together in the kitchen, room enough for a large island where you can sit and watch as Bucky cooks you breakfast, sneaking kisses in between breaking eggs. A smile grows on your features as you imagine what the future holds for you two, and what you envisage is beautiful.
He shows you where he thinks the lounge room television would go, before steering you to the right to an open room where the walls don’t have horizontal studs like all the other rooms you’ve seen so far.
“And this will be your sunroom.” He comments, eying you with a smile as your jaw drops in awe.
“A sunroom?” You ask as your voice cracks and hot tears well in your eyes.
Your dream house always seemed so far out of reach, you wondered if you would ever earn enough to own a place of your own. But it didn’t stop you from wishing for your dream house. That concept had changed over the years, but the one aspect which remained the same was it containing a sunroom. A place where you could sit in quiet contemplation and read your plethora of novels in peace, the warm afternoon sun heating the room as you draped your legs over beloveds, finding tranquillity together.
Bucky really is making all your dreams come true.
“It wouldn’t be our dream home if we didn’t have the sunroom you always wished for. This entire wall will be a huge built-in bookshelf, then the rest will be just glass, looking out over our backyard and have the perfect view of the setting sun.”
You find yourself completely lost for words, unable to articulate how remarkable this entire house is, that he built it for you, and how you will forever come home to a physical reminder of just how much Bucky loves you.
“If there’s anything you don’t like I’ll change it. I want it to be perfect, I want you to love it.” He says as if he can’t see that you already adore every inch of the house he’s built, thinking that your silence indicates aversion rather than pure amazement.
“Bucky, it’s already perfect.” You lean over to kiss him, slow and sweet, because you need to express the overwhelming gratitude and affection for him doing something so special for you. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you when you were putting in your spare hours to build us a home.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry, doll, I shouldn’t have lied to you about where I was and what I was doing, but I wanted it to be a surprise.” His arms snake around your middle and pull you closer to him so none of the cool night air separates you.
“It is a surprise, such a wonderful surprise. I love you so much and I can’t wait to spend our life together here.” You say, looking up at him with wide eyes, only closing them to kiss the stubble on his sharp jawline.
“I love you more than you’ll ever know.” Bucky places a kiss to your forehead, his voice soft but heartfelt and full of tenderness.
For a moment you stay cuddled into his strong, warm chest, his arms gently stroking up and down your back in soothing motions, feeling completely loved and so excited to start your marriage in a new home together.
“Will you show me the bedrooms upstairs?” You ask with a small voice, part of you not wanting to move from Bucky’s embrace, but also intrigued to see how much more work he’s done in the name of love for you.
“Of course, my love.”
He kisses you once more, for emphasis, before guiding you carefully upstairs to show you the spacious master bedroom where you will be spending your first nights as a married couple.
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If you're interested in seeing the floorplan I based the house off, you can find that here
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themorningsunshine · 10 months
Text
A break from writing
Hey, guys 
First of all, thank you all for showing so much love to Pie eyed over you. From a supposedly mini drabble to a full length series, it sure has come a long way and it’s all because of all of you. 
That’s what makes this so much more difficult. 
I have a lot of stories planned, series to update, but right now, I am currently at a position where I have to take a break from writing. 
It’s all just personal. A lot of things are going on right now, and I feel extremely overwhelmed to write. I love putting out stories for you guys to read and hence, don’t want to force myself to write just for the sake of it. 
This break can last from a month to two, but I promise I will be back. 
I hope you guys will understand. 
Hope to see you soon ;) 
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themorningsunshine · 10 months
Note
Hey love! How are you!? Here... Not so good... Actualy, i'm feeling horrible, fatal 💔
I didn't have a very good day today. Fights at home (mostly my parents), two of my three little dogs got into a fight and I ended up with my left arm bandaged, my boyfriend got upset about it and is pressuring me to get a job now and move out of my house.... It all happened in a few hours.
Could I request a Bucky x Fem!Reader one-shot t where Bucky comforts the reader by being by her side listening to her and making a relaxing day for her?
That's all I need right now 💔💔💔💔💔 A hug and someone to tell me that everything is going to be okay 😭
I am so sorry you had to go through this, hon.
I wish I was near to give you a huge, warm hug but because it's not possible right now, Please take this :
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You deserve the world, hon, and everything that you're facing right now, is going to be okay. Just hang in there. Everything is going to be fine.
I am sorry it's been such a rough day, but better days are just around the corner.
Regarding the Bucky request, I am SO SO sorry, hon, but I am on a writing hiatus for now. My life has been a shit hole and my anxiety is at an all-time high. Not trying to justify stuff, but everything is a mess and I badly needed a month to myself so not writing anything now.
I can't tell you how sorry I am, but if there is anything else I can do. If you ever need to talk, you've got a friend in me.
Hope you will understand.
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themorningsunshine · 10 months
Text
Thank you sooo much 💖💖. Hope it was worth the wait :)
Pancakes
Pie eyed over you - Chapter 4
Mafia - Baker AU
Masterlist                        Series Masterlist
Previous Part
Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader
Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.
Warnings - Implied smut, Making out, wounds, brief mention of first aid, fluff and angst 
Word count - 5.9k
a/n - I really tried writing smut for the first time for this chapter, but realised soon enough that it’s not my cup of tea. Alteast not yet. Maybe some other time. Till then, please let me know what you think :) 
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(I couldn’t find a more accurate gif. It in no way represents the reader) 
Keep reading
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themorningsunshine · 10 months
Text
Thank you so much for including ‘They don’t you the way I do’ and ‘I like me better when I am with you’ 
Also, these stories are SO great. Can’t wait to read each one of them 
Bucky x Reader Friends To Lovers/Mutual Pining Trope Fic Recs (part two)
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18+ ONLY. Writing may contain mature content. Mostly Bucky Barnes x F! and GN!Reader. Please show support to these amazing writers!!
❗️ PLEASE MESSAGE ME IF YOU’D LIKE ME TO REMOVE YOUR FIC OR IF I MADE A MISTAKE❗️
I’ll Catch You @buckyalpine
A Little Longer @buckyalpine
I Won’t Break @bethdutten
Drunk In Love @bethdutten
Think Of Me @bethdutten
To Let You Win @delaber
Warrior/Worrier @delaber
For You @fandoms-writings
A Little Push @navybrat817
Long Awaited @muchadoaboutbucky
Dating Bucky Barnes (headcanon) @lanadelreyscokewhor3
Can I Kiss You? @lanadelreyscokewhor3
Chicken | Part 2 | Part 3 @delusionalwriterr
Dumb Dumb @nicestgirlonline
Do Not Fall In Love @bucksangel
They Don’t Know You The Way I Do @themorningsunshine
I Like Me Better When I’m With You @themorningsunshine
Loud Thoughts @buckysbabygorl
Makeup @buckysbabygorl
You Up? @buckysbabygorl
Let Me Help You @revengingbarnes
Hot Mess @queenofslytherin71
Too Hot, An Arm Cold @t-lostinworlds
Long Awaited @muchadoaboutbucky
Hands And Knives @winterfrostlovetriangle
Old Fashioned @demxters
Need To Know @kikixreverie
What We’ve Been Missing @buckysho
Wanna Be Yours @sinner-as-saint
Actions Speak Louder Than Words @breakablebarnes
Never The Same @majestyeverlasting
Once More With Feeling @wicked-mind
Best Friends? Nah. @wicked-mind
Sunshine Girl @wicked-mind
The Dock @5-seconds-of-bucky
Your Touch @marvelettesassemblenow
Which Avenger Are You Destined To Date? @marvelettesassemblenow
I Think I Wanna Marry You | I Know I Wanna Marry You @likeahorribledream
Don’t Wait @likeahorribledream
Be My Valentine @povlvr
Not Even A Little @intrepidacious
Almost Believing @intrepidacious
A Million Summers @intrepidacious
Little Lavender Friend @thepsychewrites
Better Day @the-plum-soldier
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themorningsunshine · 10 months
Text
Thank you so much 💖💖 
Pancakes
Pie eyed over you - Chapter 4
Mafia - Baker AU
Masterlist                        Series Masterlist
Previous Part
Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader
Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.
Warnings - Implied smut, Making out, wounds, brief mention of first aid, fluff and angst 
Word count - 5.9k
a/n - I really tried writing smut for the first time for this chapter, but realised soon enough that it’s not my cup of tea. Alteast not yet. Maybe some other time. Till then, please let me know what you think :) 
Tumblr media
(I couldn’t find a more accurate gif. It in no way represents the reader) 
Keep reading
1K notes · View notes
themorningsunshine · 10 months
Text
Pancakes
Pie eyed over you - Chapter 4
Mafia - Baker AU
Masterlist                        Series Masterlist
Previous Part
Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader
Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.
Warnings - Implied smut, Making out, wounds, brief mention of first aid, fluff and angst 
Word count - 5.9k
a/n - I really tried writing smut for the first time for this chapter, but realised soon enough that it’s not my cup of tea. Alteast not yet. Maybe some other time. Till then, please let me know what you think :) 
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(I couldn’t find a more accurate gif. It in no way represents the reader) 
"y/n, y/n!"
Wanda's voice and her brisking past you to switch off the coffee machine brought you off the hole you were glaring into the wall with your stare.
Your feet walked on your own as you picked up the cup and walked towards the elderly woman, handing over the cup, a smile plastered on your face.
"Are you okay, dear?" The elderly woman, Mrs. Hudson, asked in a gentle voice.
You nodded your head and with a more convincing smile at her concern, replied, "Yeah, yeah, I am totally fine, Mrs Hudson. Just a lot on my mind right now."
"You have to take care of yourself, child. How else will I get the best coffee in the world?"
You chuckled before replying, "Don't worry, Mrs Hudson. You and this town aren't going to get rid of me this easily."
She gives you a wider smile and with small steps, carries her cup and box outside. You wanted to help her and make sure she reached home safely, but after all these months, you just know how stubborn she can be.
"Y/n, you seriously need to take care of yourself. You look tired."
You dismiss Wanda with a shake of your hand, you knew you were tired. You felt tired. But it had nothing to do with the bakery or your chores, you knew it and if nothing else, they were a pretty good distraction from what had been plaguing your mind for what felt like forever now. "I am fine, Wan. Don't you worry about me? You have got enough on your plate." And you meant it. Ever since Wanda gave birth to the twin boys, she had been super busy and the both of you hardly got any time to hang out together, but you understood. She was a mom now. She would eventually take out some time for the both of you, and she did. If the shopping bags and the skip in both of your steps were any indications, she came back for a wonderful girls' day out after all.
"I am never going to stop worrying about you, y/n. It's kind of my birthright." She noted before picking up a cupcake from the shelf.
After a moment of comfortable silence and a couple of customers, when you found yourself lost in your thoughts once again, Wanda spoke up. "Come on, y/n. I know it's been a month and that's a pretty long time, but you need to stop thinking about the worst-case scenarios. Maybe he is safe and sound, and you are just worrying yourself over nothing."
You sighed. You knew she was right but there was absolutely nothing that could calm down your nerves. "I - I don't know, Wan. That day, Steve said it was an emergency. They sounded so worried. And I have got no damn idea about what it even was about."
"What emergencies would mechanics have that could take a month?" Wanda asks with a furrow. The first time she had met James, flashed back into her eyes. She knew something had not been right about him. She just couldn't pin out what. She didn't want to tell you and worry you about it if it was nothing.
"I - I think something is not right, Wan. I think there is something huge he isn't telling me." Your throat contracted as the words left your mind. You had been thinking that for quite some time now. But giving voice to your suspicions and putting them out there, was a different deal altogether. It wasn't just a thought running into your mind anymore.
"You think he has been lying to you?" Wanda whispers, her heart sinking in her chest at your dejected expression. You didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve lies or even half-baked truths and it hurt her so much that she could do nothing about this.
"I don't know. I mean, he could lie to me, right? It's not like he owes me anything. He could straight up one day decide to never show up at the bakery again and there is absolutely nothing I could do about it."
"But he wouldn't do that. You know it." She puts her hand ahead to try to comfort you.
"Then where is he, Wan? Where has he gone for one month without a single word? And hell, I can't even ask around if someone has seen him, because guess what, he is supposed to be nothing to me." You half screamed with exasperation. You wished it wasn't this way. You wished that he hadn't just gone without any contact for a month and you wished that it didn't hurt this much. You wish you could just care less.
"But is he? Is he nothing to you, y/n?" She asks, knowing the answer all too well, but she needs to hear it from you. But your silence and the slight tears brimming in the corner of your eyes are an answer enough for her.
She puts her hand around you to comfort you before stating what has been obvious to her for a long time now. " You're in love with him. "
You suddenly take a step back, running your palm on your face, before replying, "What? No, no, no. That's not true."
There is a pang in your chest that tells you otherwise. The way the bakery hasn't just been the same since he left tells you otherwise. The way your smiles haven't truly reached your eyes for the past week says otherwise. The way your eyes always instantly look at the door at the voice of the bell, hoping with everything you have that it's him, tells you otherwise.
But you wish to stay in denial for a little longer. You wish to ignore all the feelings James Barnes has ignited inside you locked up a little longer. Because for some reason, you knew that it could only lead to inevitable hurt, and you wish you could live in this blissful ignorance a little longer.
Wanda just puts her arms around you and engulfs you in a hug, muttering comforting words into your hair.
**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚
It was a dead silent night.
The only thing illuminating his path were the few streetlights and lights of the shop that were still open.
Bucky flinches slightly as the wound on his face makes its presence known.
He knows he shouldn't be here. Maybe at work, informing everybody of the long mission, celebrating the fact that one of his biggest enemies is gone for good now, or maybe getting some medical care, but definitely not here.
But it has been too long, and if he doesn't see you right now, make sure that you're okay, even though he's the one who has been in near-death situations more times than he can count, he is not sure he will be able to breathe.
Maybe he should have stopped for a moment and thought about what he would tell you about the scars and the wounds, but right now, he was a desperate man.
As the bakery comes into view, he lets out a sigh of relief when he notices that the light is on.
You would be cleaning up after the day right now. Maybe, if he was lucky, you would let him just sit there for some time and not send him away from the door. After the radio silence he has given you for more than a month, he will deserve that, but he is not sure if he will be able to live with it.
When he reaches the bakery, he stops for a moment and looks inside.
There, you are. In all your glory, wiping the counter with a determined look on your face.
Bucky is stopped in his tracks. Just like the first night he had met you, he needs a moment to catch his breath, to look at you for a moment longer to convince himself that this is real. You are real.
To him, you get even more beautiful every time he looks at you.
As if on instinct, you look up from the counter towards the door, and your movements halt when your eyes meet the blue ones you had missed more than anything.
You stand there, staring at him for a minute, to make sure that this is actually true, that he was here and it was not just your mind playing games.
When you are finally able to get your feet to move, you walk towards the door to the bakery and pull the door open.
Bucky looks at you with a small smile on his face. Even after he had fought through literal hell the past month, the mere sight of you made it all better. It was like he had been lost into the sea for far too long and you were the first sight of civilization, of peace, of life.
But there is a slight fear in his eyes. He knows you had all the right in the world to just ask him to get lost, that after the radio silence he had put you through, he would deserve everything you had to say to him.
But he couldn't have expected what you did next.
You took hurried steps toward him and before he knew it, you brought your hands around his neck, engulfing him into a tight hug.
"James" You breathed his name as you held onto him tighter. You wanted to be angry with him, to let him know just how much he had worried you, to give him a chance to silence all your worries, but the second you saw him, all you could get yourself to care about was that he was here, and he was fine.
After the initial shock, Bucky brought his arms around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer and burying his face into your hair, letting your smell and the feeling of you pressed against him, engulf his senses.
He doesn't know what peace felt like, but he is pretty sure it feels a lot like this.
The both of you stay like that for a moment longer before anger comes sweeping back to you and you pull away.
"Where the hell was - " Your words die on your tongue at the sight in front of you. James' face is bruised and he looks like he has been through hell. He looks tired, and all the shine that you had started to associate with his eyes is completely gone now.
"Holy shit." You almost shout before bringing your hand towards his face to gently run your fingers over his bruises.
He flinches first before closing his eyes and leaning into your touch and you can't help but feel guilty for being angry with him when he has clearly been going through something.
"How did you get hurt?"
He bites his lip and slowly opens his eyes, but doesn't look at you, instead choosing to focus on your palm that's still resting on his face. "I - I got into an accident." He says, cringing at the way he hesitates. He used to be able to lie like a breeze. It was the easiest thing in the world for him. But there is something in your eyes and something inside him that's begging him to stop this. To just come clean and face the consequences. But he knows for a fact that once he does that, your hand wouldn't gently rest on his face like it's doing now, healing wounds that he didn't even know existed and you wouldn't be looking at him like that. Like he could ever in this lifetime be deserving of the affection of someone like you. And he realizes he needs it, maybe just for tonight, but he needs to live in a false lie.
You bring your hand away as his words settle in. There is a hesitation in his voice and a pang in your chest that tells you he's lying, even though you desperately want to believe him. You search for something in his eyes, anything that could convince you that he was telling you the truth, but you find nothing.
You look down, blinking back the tears that are threatening to spill.
You shake your head and then look up only to be met by his battered face and you take a deep breath before reaching out for his hand.
You needed to help him right now. If you knew something about James that was not a lie, it was that he could be extremely stubborn and he would never take care of the bruises himself. You could either wallow in self-pity or demand the truth later. For now, you take his hand in yours and pull him towards the stairs leading to your apartment.
**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩
Bucky very slightly flinches in pain as you put the tweezers down on the plate, his bare minimum reaction to everything you were doing would have been a concern to you but you knew just how strong he could be.
You look up at his face and feel relieved at what you see. The wounds weren't very severe and you were thankful for the first aid box you always kept tucked inside your washroom.
It had been almost an hour since the both of you stepped into the apartment. His wounds were all catered to now, including the ones on his chest and back.
He sat there, shirtless, in the kitchen of your apartment as you slowly looked after the bruises one by one, using everything you had not to stare at his bare chest. It really should be illegal for someone to be this good-looking.
You could see the scars where metal met skin and you couldn't help the pain that swept into your chest. You had gently run your fingers across them as if that would somehow relieve his pain and Bucky would never say it out loud, but it somehow did.
Not a single word had been uttered between the both of you since you stepped into the apartment. James had tried talking, anything that would make you look at him even for a fleeting moment but your sheer reluctance to meet his eyes made his words die on his tongue.
When you are finally done mending all the wounds, you keep the first aid box to the side and take a seat in front of him, still refusing to look at him.
James looks at you but is met with complete ignorance from you. He knows he deserves this, but he would apologize if you just gave him the chance. He finally decides to fill the silence that has surrounded the apartment for so long. "Sweets - "
"How did you get hurt, James?" You cut him off, looking up to look directly into his eyes for the first time that night, begging him through your eyes to be honest for this once. To just cease your fears and tell you whatever he is so adamant about hiding.
Please, please, be honest with me, James.
I want to be able to believe you, to be able to trust you, to love you.
Please, don't lie to me.
"I told you, sweets. It was an accident."
You feel the worry and hurt morph into anger. "And where were you the past month? Preparing for the accident?"
You watched as he shook his head, unable to meet your eyes and you could feel your stomach drop. You didn't want to do this, not right now. He was hurt, and tired and your heart was begging you to stop and save the little shred of hope left between the both of you, but you had to know.
James let out a sigh and closed his eyes before muttering, "Sweets, I told you. It's nothing."
You let out an involuntary humorless chuckle, before closing your eyes shut, "Why is it so difficult for you to be honest with me, James?"
Bucky closed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, anything to stop him from spilling out everything to you. You sounded broken, hurt and he mentally berated himself for making you feel this way. There's nothing more he wanted than to let it all out, to lay the pieces of his soul bare in front of you.
But he instead leans his head closer, his forehead brushing against yours, willing you with everything he has to Munster and everything he couldn't put into words.
You let a silent sob as your lips quivered and a tear rolled down your cheek. "I - I don't know, James. You were gone for more than a month and I had absolutely no idea where you were. I was worried, but I shouldn't be. You don't owe it to me to tell you where you were, you don't owe me anything - "
"That's not true." He interrupted, voice pleading, something that felt so foreign to him, but for you, he would do it. For you, he would get down on his knees if it meant you would stop hurting.  "I need you to know that that's not true, sweets. You have no idea how sorry I am that I couldn't reach out to you, but please, believe me when I say this, I would have if I could, 'cause it was killing me. Every single moment not spent with you, not knowing how you are is torture, a torture I am not sure I will be able to survive for long."
You let out a broken sob as he brought his hand behind your neck, gently pushing you towards him, your foreheads now completely leaning on each other, your breaths mingling and you involuntarily close your eyes.
The whole world ceased to exist at that moment. The both of you comfort each other with your mere presence. There were a lot of things unsaid, a lot of things unvisited, for that small moment right there, all that mattered was that you had found each other.
After what felt like an eternity, you let out your worst fear. Something that has plagued your mind for a long time now. "Sometimes, I - I feel like I don't even know you, James like all of this is a huge lie, a front that would fall apart someday."
You don't let him answer as you pull back and stand up quickly to turn away. You had to get away from there. The intimacy of it all, and how real it felt, filled you with dread now.
But before you can walk away from him, James's hand shoots up and grabs hold of your wrist. His hold is gentle, but firm, keeping you with him. He looks up and you see in his eyes how vulnerable he is. How important this conversation is for him, too.
He gets up and takes a step forward and your heart begins beating so fast, you are pretty sure he would be able to hear it.
You take a step back if only to save your heart from getting away, a meek attempt at postponing getting it broken by the man in front of you, the man who had held your heart for a long time now, only for your back to hit the counter.
As James took another step ahead and with nowhere to go, you saw in his eyes as several different emotions pooled through his blue orbs. The intensity of his gaze makes you look away.
He slowly brings his hand under your chin and makes you look up at him and you realize there is hardly a few inches of distance between the both of you. Your thoughts turn frantic and it becomes impossible to focus on your breathing.
"You know me, sweets. You know me in ways nobody has ever before."
He whispers the sentence as if it was something to be kept just between you two, his voice dripping with conviction and honesty. His eyes determined to make you believe every single word falling from his lips, which were now mere inches from yours.
He knows it's true. In all those times when everything became a little too much and he wasn't himself, even when he didn't even realize it, you did. You could read him like a book and it would have scared him if it wasn't for what came after. Your comforting words, your slight touches that made him believe that this world hadn't gone to shit just yet, that everything could still be okay. You didn't have to know what troubled his mind and plagued his nightmares but you made it all better and silenced the whisperings of his troubled mind nonetheless.
You know it's stupid, but you believe him. You believe every single word that falls from his mouth, and you realize the man in front of you was always going to hold a piece of your heart, even if he had no idea. Because he might have lied about something that you didn't know, but it didn't have to matter. Nothing else in the world had to matter if he kept looking at you like this.
His intense gaze falls from your eyes to your lips for a fleeting second and you would have missed it, if not for your sheer inability to focus on anything else but him at that moment.
Your breath mingles as he leans closer, his eyes never leaving yours.
The world stops spinning when his lips finally touch yours.
The silence around you explodes and a world of colors appears from behind your closed eyes.
Every thought in your mind is stripped out and replaced with him.
Just him
The kiss is gentle, soft, almost tender. All the things that have been missing from his life for as long as he could remember.
He doesn't just feel the kiss on his lips, he feels it in every fiber of his being.
The way his bones feel like they are on fire. Like his soul has finally found water.
Like every part of him that came from a dead star is alive again.
It is everything he has ever wanted. You are everything he has ever wanted.
he slides his hand to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as if even an inch of distance between the both of you was too much for him.
You encircle your arms around his neck, your fingers gently running through his hair.
You taste like coffee and cookies, and it's all exceptionally sweet and he wants to taste it all like a man who has been devoid of air for a long time.
When the necessity to breathe arises, you pull away. But James doesn't let you get too far, as he walks you toward the counter, trapping you between his arms.
Your lips are parted, still breathing heavily, when he leans in again. Now that he knew how your lips felt, he never wanted to be away from them for even a second.
This kiss is passionate and desperate, hands wandering, tongues desperately exploring each other's mouth, your back pushing against the counter.
James' hands get lower towards your thighs and he picks you up effortlessly placing you comfortably on the counter, stepping between your legs, not breaking up the kiss for even a moment.
He bites your lower lip and you let out a sinful moan, making all his blood run south.
He breaks up the kiss before bringing his attention to your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your exposed skin.
"James" You hiss out when he kisses that particular spot.
James suddenly stops and looks at you. You would think he didn't want to take this further had it not been for the desperate hold he had on your waist.
He looks into your eyes, not an ounce of hesitation in his eyes, before saying, "Tell me to stop."
You frown before he continues. "Tell me to stop, sweets and I swear I will, 'cause if you don't," He swallows before continuing. "I can't promise you that you will be able to walk tomorrow."
You are soaking wet, which is proof enough that you want this as much as he does, so you don't ask him to stop. Instead, you pull him towards you by his collar and press your lips to his in a passionate kiss giving him all the permission he needed.
He brings his hand under your thighs before picking you up and you wrap your legs around his waist, encircling his neck with your arms, holding onto him for dear life.
He walks the both of you towards your bedroom without breaking the kiss.
**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**
The warmth of sun rays falls on your face as you slowly open your eyes.
The feeling of an arm splayed on your stomach makes your heart stop for a second before the memories of last night come sweeping back to you.
It all felt like a dream and considering just how good last night was, you would have actually considered it a dream if it wasn't for James' hand laying gently on your stomach while also effectively pinning you to the bed and the feeling of soreness between your legs.
But you didn't mind. Not when he had taken you apart more times than you could count last night, leaving you a mumbling mess every single time.
You look to your side and your eyes land on his sleeping form.
With gentle hues of the sunlight sweeping its away through the window and onto his face, he looked dreamy, ethereal and you couldn't help but stare at him.
It was still early into the morning but you knew you would have to get up soon enough, so, in a desperate attempt to engrave this memory into your head, you brought your fingers to his face, gently touching his cheek, his stubble a little rough under your touch.
It is a tender moment for you. One in which you can engulf in your feelings for him a little longer, before facing reality, a reality in which he might never feel the same way.
You watch as his eyes slowly flutter open, immediately turning into a warm look when they land on you and you can feel your cheeks turning warm.
He smirks before saying, "I could get used to this."
You chuckle and take your hand away before he holds it in his and brings it to his chest. "Good morning to you too, James."
"Good morning, sweets." He leans in and places a light feathery kiss on your lips and it's already the best start to a morning you've ever had.
When he leans back, his eyes never leaving yours, you attempt to get out from under his hand to get the day started, but he doesn't move his arm an inch, effectively keeping you in the same spot.
"We both have got work to do, James." You tried your hardest to be stern but the way he looked with his bed hair and a carefree smile on his face made your insides melt.
"Nope, it's too early." He mutters, closing his eyes and pressing his face on your neck, his breath on your exposed skin making your skin tingle.
You chuckle before wrapping your hands around him, already drifting toward sleep and you feel him smile.
**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚**•̩̩͙✩•̩
The sound of footsteps brings you out of your stupor and you flutter your eyes open.
The bed beside you is empty and before you could think much about it, a voice from the door brings a smile to your face.
"Good morning, sweets."
You turn your head towards James who is leaning at the doorway his arms crossed. He isn't wearing a shirt and even after last night, it doesn't stop amazing you just how perfect he is. Your eyes drift over his form, noticing how his sweatpants hang low. You shook your head, willing yourself to not let your mind go there.
"Like what you see?" He says, a smirk is evident in his voice.
You shrug before blatantly lying, "I have seen better."
He pushes himself from the doorway. He knew you were lying. The goofy smile on your face, and the blissful look you adorned told him everything he had to know.
When you hang your legs from the bed, about to get up, he told you to sit right there, before walking out of the room. Even when he was gone, you couldn't help the smile on your face. Your sheets smelled like him.
He came back a couple of minutes later, a mini table in his hand.
When he kept it in front of you, you gasped as you saw what was on it. There was a plate full of pancakes, a warm cup of coffee, and your living room flowers in a mug beside it.
You looked up and whispered under your breath, "James, you didn't have to do this."
"Are you kidding, sweets? God knows how many sweet meals I owe you. There are a little too many, but this is a good start.
You chuckled before leaning in and pressing your lips to his in a brief kiss.
You took a piece of the pancake and tasted it, doing everything in yourself to not let the grimace show on your face.
James was good at a lot of things. Intimidating people, physical strength, reading, shooting (apparently), knowing exactly what you wanted, and definitely sex. But cooking wasn't one of those things.  
"So?" He asked, squinting his eyes trying to gauge your reaction.
You smiled at him before shoving the piece down your throat. "It's amazing."
His smile widened before he leaned towards the plate. "yeah, I knew it. Let me taste it."
"No, no, you don't - "
You were too late as he took a bite of the pancake and gagged before spitting it out. "It's terrible."
He leaned again and took the plate away from you. "No human should be subjected to this."
You chuckled. "It isn't that bad, James."
He shook his head in disapproval.
The both of you had coffee (which was pretty good) with you telling him everything you had planned for the bakery that day.
Bucky looked at you talking and sipping coffee and couldn't help the grin on his face. Your messy bed hair, sitting in an oversized shirt, talking so passionately about something you loved, filled his heart with warmth.
It was all so peaceful. So serene.
And he might not accept it right now, but if he got to start his day exactly like this for the rest of his life, he wouldn't mind one bit.
Unable to help himself, he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss.
You taste like fresh coffee and terribly baked pancakes, it's his favorite taste in the world.
You reciprocate the kiss with equal fever before realizing you were involuntarily slipping into his lap.
It took everything in you to break the kiss. "Nope, we both have got work to do."
You get up from the bed, walking away from him.
"Maybe I could convince you to spend the day in bed?" James said with a voice that made walking away almost impossible.
"It's not gonna be that easy, James." You said with a smirk before reaching the doorway and turning to look at him.
"Your underestimation of me hurts me, sweets." He said before getting up and walking towards you.
You took off from the doorway and ran towards the living room, giggling.
You hadn't even reached the sofas when you felt a pair of strong arms wrapping around you.
James picked you up from the ground, his bare chest pressing to your back before giving you a twirl and turning you towards him.
"Knew I'd catch you, sweets."
Your lips were parted breathing heavily as he brought his lips to yours, entering his tongue into your mouth. His hands pulled you by your waist bringing you closer, before reaching towards the buttons on your shirt.
You gasped as you felt his clothed length against your core, all your resolve fading.
The ringing of his phone became a background noise initially before jolting the both of you out of your haze and you reluctantly pulled back, pointing towards the kitchen counter he had kept his phone on the previous night.
James growled before stepping towards you again, choosing to ignore whoever it was who wanted his attention so badly.
But you leaned back, adamant about him picking up the phone. It could be important.
He stepped towards his phone, pressing it to his ears without checking the caller id.
Steve's voice bellowed against his ear and Bucky knew he was pissed. "Where the hell have you been, Buck? I have tried reaching you since last night."
"I was - I was in the middle of something, punk. Is this important?" He deliberately doesn't tell him where he is, wanting to keep everything between you for as long as he could.
"Of course it's important. We have a meeting with Stark in 15 minutes and you are not even here. This deal is important, Buck and you know, he doesn't like to wait."
"I don't give a shit about Stark, Steve. Why can't you or Sam handle this?"
"Because you know about these weapons more than any of us. I don't understand, you spent months trying to get this deal. What is something so important now?" Bucky could hear the suspicion rising in his tone.
"Fine." He sighed. "I will be there in 10."
He cuts the call before turning back and walking towards the kitchen, where you'd sneak off to give him some space to talk on the phone.
"Sweets, Steve called. I have to go."  He sounded disappointed and regretful.
You tried to hide the disappointment in your voice before saying, "I told you we both have work to get to."
A moment of silence passed between the both of you, slightly awkward before he walked towards the bedroom to get dressed.
He walked back into the kitchen 5 minutes later, bid you goodbye, and walked towards the door.
He hastily turned back and took hurried steps towards the kitchen.
You looked up from the counter and frowned when you saw he had come back. But before you could utter a word, he pressed his lips against yours for a brief yet firm kiss.
"I was wrong, sweets. You are the best damn thing I have ever had."  He spoke with a smirk before walking back towards the door.
You felt red creep up to your neck and you were stuck in place for a moment before shaking yourself out of your thoughts.
For the rest of the day, you felt giddy, happiness settling inside you, making you feel like you were flying.
But here's the thing.
Flying felt a lot like falling till you hit the ground.
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themorningsunshine · 11 months
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This was stinkingly adorable 
Congrats on 1k followers, you deserve it! I love your writing so much, I’d love to see you write a Bucky x Reader Mind Reader fic where enhanced!reader can read minds and knows that Bucky is pining after her.
THANK YOU! Part of that is because you keep supporting my work, and I love you so much for it 🥰💕💗 - seriously go check out M's page for some great fic recommendations!
Mind Reader (Bingo Game)
!BINGO ASKS CLOSED!
BuckyBarnes x Enhanced!Female!Reader
word count: 2.1k
warnings: pining, fluff, Bucky being very sweet but also self-sabotaging, language
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It started off like a whisper. You weren’t used to whispers. Normally, people talked to themselves in moderate volumes. Who would be afraid of their own thoughts after all? But Bucky was different. He was so different, in fact, that you had mistaken his thoughts for something entirely else. 
You should go over to them, be part of the group. I can’t.
They were like conversations. But not like thoughts usually were. More like a constant...
No wonder nobody likes you. You’re a coward.
...fight.
Shut up.
You looked up at Bucky who was shaking his head with a frown over at the other end of the room. Wanda and Sam were standing by the window talking, laughing. Bucky was never part of it and it saddened you a little. Especially because he was actually very sweet. He just never showed it. But that’s why you liked to occasionally listen to his thoughts. 
That was very well said, Steve. Good job.
It made you smile. And even though you had promised the team not to do it, sometimes, you couldn’t help yourself. He was just...
I like that braid Natasha did today, maybe she can braid my hair like that too.
...so...
This is the best food I’ve ever tasted. Wow, Sam.
..cute.
And that’s why you did it occasionally.
You got up from your seat at the kitchen island and walked over to the sink. Bucky stepped aside to give you space. He was still a little timid around everyone. You talked to him frequently though, trying to include him in activities and general conversation to make sure he didn’t feel left out. And he appreciated it. 
“Thank you,” you whispered before passing him to leave the room.
Oh, wow. She smells very good. Don’t be a creep.
You bit back a smile before leaving, your heart skipping a small beat before settling in its pace again. Bucky was so endearing with his little compliments. But he would never dare say them out loud - not with that condescending voice he harbored as well.
You wanted to do something about it, but you also knew it would reveal your little secret of occasional drop-ins to his mind. And you were sure this was a boundary you couldn’t cross with Bucky yet. Steve? Sure, what was he going to do about it? Sam would probably close his ears to prevent you from listening to his thoughts - he didn’t think a lot of times... Nat would probably not mind at all, but Bucky? No, you didn’t know what it would do to him. 
So you restrained. But it became harder and harder with time as Bucky’s thoughts turned in a direction neither of you had expected. 
She looks so pretty today. 
He was subtle at first, surprised by his own mind but somehow content. Over time, you looked at him afterward, he smiled, a small blush creeping over his cheeks to his ears. It was adorable. 
He noticed things nobody else did. He had attention to detail, and he was so interested in the smallest of things you did. 
Did she put on eyeshadow? Her eyes are shining. Not for you.
But it was always there, at the end of each compliment - ready to destroy the little warmth he spread in your heart - that voice. That annoying, down-talking, and toxic voice his mind hosted and that was nothing like the Bucky he revealed to the outside. 
I wish I could hold her hand. She will run away from you.
Your heart clenched with every day his mind ruined the few soft moments Bucky allowed himself. You wanted to just grab him, squish him tight and tell that stupid voice to shut up. Because you did want to hold his hand during movie nights, or that day he noticed your new nail polish, or the time your fingers brushed against his when he handed you a mug. And it was killing you, tearing you apart from the constant tug of war his mind was playing. 
You wanted to hear the compliments he thought of but at the same time, the flip side of his thoughts became more painful every time. Still, you challenged him, walked past him closer, looked at him longer, talked to him more - just to feel the goosebumps building when his kind words reached your mind. Unfortunately... just for them to be destroyed right after.
Her lips look so soft. I bet she’s a good kisser. Fucking creep.
So, you eventually got so used to listening, it became more and more difficult to distinguish thought from spoken words with time. You couldn’t stop, though, it was too thrilling - too nice to be appreciated.
You found yourself lingering in spaces Bucky was more often. Not necessarily talking, just being in the same place, stealing glances, listening to his mind - finding calm in the soothing tone of his silent monologues... however condescending they ended up being. 
Right now, you were doing exactly that: Sitting in the common room, reading a magazine while Bucky sat across from you, mindlessly opening and closing his book, but you knew he wasn’t reading...
Imagine what it would be like to just be able to go over and sit next to her.
You smiled, biting your cheeks immediately.
Calling her my girl... Jesus, I don’t think I know how dating works anymore.
You stole a glance at him, but Bucky was looking down quickly, tracing the cover of his book with his index finger. 
You will never find love again... that’s ok, it’s too overwhelming anyway.
This time, you had to will yourself to keep your eyes on the page. They hadn’t moved over a single word for the entire time. You shook your head, took a deep breath, and tried to actually read. Bucky’s mind was silent for some time, and as much as you liked hearing him, it was nice to not experience his sad thoughts.
After a while, you began to actually read. The article was actually somewhat entertaining, you should have done it sooner. Your eyes flew over the page, eating up the meaning behind the latest internet trend, your fingers flipping to the next page.
That outfit looks so good on her. That’s her color. I wish I had a color.
“It’s cerulean,” you laughed absentmindedly, your eyes nearing the end of the page.
“What?” Oh my god.
Oh shit. Your head shot up immediately, sight panic surging up your spine. “The answer for my crossword.” Close call.
You’d think that after this accident, you had gotten more careful, maybe stopped reading his mind so much. But something always drew you towards him. When Bucky was in the room, even Peter's weird and random rabbit hole thoughts seemed to move in the background. 
You craved Bucky’s thoughts - they excited you, made you feel like no one else’s compliments ever did - so you didn't stop. But today, you actually wished you had...
Bucky’s mind was particularly gruesome today. He and Steve had just come back from a rather frustrating mission. Many pedestrians were injured, no targets contained - and it made the bad voice in his head take over. 
You’re such a failure, Steve risked his life to save you and for what? For you to fuck it all up again. 
The common room was empty when you heard it. You were the only one in the adjacent kitchen, Bucky’s thoughts preceding his entrance by a few seconds. When he entered, he stopped in his tracks, looked at you, and let a small “Hi.” Slip past his lips.
“Hey,” you responded sadly. There was no compliment today. His mind went back to his prior train of thought immediately. 
“How are you?” You carefully asked to loosen the awkwardness, but Bucky just turned to the fridge with a gruff mumble.
“Fine.”
It would have probably been better for everyone if Hydra just had had its ways with me. Had me die of all the torture eventually. Then all of this would have never happened. 
Tears sprung to your eyes at his thoughts. But it was even worse, you couldn’t help him - he had never really told you and it was eating you alive. 
Everyone is just better off without me...
And then a slight sniffle escaped you, the tears running freely as you imagined Bucky not being part of your life. It was so sad that he couldn’t see how important he was to all of you. You especially. He had made your life at the compound so much brighter, was a thing you always looked forward to as a part of your day.
"Are you okay?” Bucky turned immediately, his eyes going wide when he saw your distraught face. You fucking idiot, of course she’s not okay. It’s probably your fault, too. 
“Stop!”
“Stop what?” He moved closer. “Stop what?”
“The arguing, the- the constant downplay.” You wiped your tears but there was no use, fresh ones were already replacing them. 
“Doll, I don’t know what you-”
You shook his frame, your hands wrapping around his biceps. “I need you! Nobody would be happier if you were dead!”
It was dead silent for a moment. You could watch as the confusion shook from Bucky’s face with every jolt you were giving him. But you didn’t care. It was enough - he was enough. 
When your hands finally let go, Bucky cleared his throat, his eyes, however, never left yours.
"So you do read my thoughts.” 
“I-“ but your mouth was faster than your mind. You didn't know what to tell him. You had promised the team to never do it. You knew it was a breach of privacy, a breaking of trust. Your head hung low as you avoided Bucky’s eyes. They weren’t furious, or confused - really, nothing you had imagined them to be if he ever found out. He was kind of... calm. As if something had been lifted off his shoulders - it must have been the closure you provided him with. 
You dared to glance up again just to be met with that confusing look of his again, and the fact he wasn’t saying a thing made you panic. “I’m sorry, I was too curious. Because every time I...” You sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. There was no use in defending your actions. “I’m sorry. I promised not to read your minds and I did it anyways. That’s not okay.”
But Bucky didn’t seem to listen to the words tumbling over your tongue in desperation. His brows were scrunched when his eyes flicked to the ceiling and then back to you. What the hell was this about?
“If you heard that... did you also hear my... you know...” Oh. Right. The compliments. How could you have forgotten? They were the very reason you were in this situation right now. 
You breathed in deeply. “Yeah.” And it felt a lot better now that it had all been said. 
“Oh.” Bucky’s cheeks tainted in pink when he turned in place awkwardly. But even though the kitchen was massive, there was no real hiding from you. 
You watched as he shuffled in front of you, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and looked anywhere but at you. And it reminded you of the Bucky only you got to experience in secret. The one whose thoughts never left that brain of his and it warmed you from the inside out again. 
“Thank you,” you finally whispered, careful not to chase him away. Because it looked like he was about to bolt, though something was keeping him from doing so.
“For what?” Big blue orbs found yours again, intrigue and confusion weaving through his features - it was adorable.
You bit your lip. “All the compliments. You’re very charming, you know?” Part of you wondered if the old Bucky - 40s Bucky - was just like this. Innocently sweet, maybe with a hint of shameless flirting though. “You are such a great person, Bucky. If the others could hear how incredibly attentive you are. They would love to have you around more.”
Your hand reached out to touch his arm and the blush on his cheeks deepened.
“I’ll try,” he smiled, the tension from before seemingly forgotten in the vast kitchen.
You smiled as well, riding on a wave of confidence when you leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his heated cheek.
Sweet Jesus, I think I’ll pass out. 
You just chuckled and left. The other conversation hanging in the room had to wait for now. First, you wanted to see Bucky mingle with the crowd, get comfortable, then, you’d work on finally making him yours. 
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themorningsunshine · 11 months
Text
About once a week the world smiles at me so wide I can’t bear to look at it– suddenly there is so much light everywhere I fear I will go blind. Maybe it’s the way a stranger says excuse me while slipping by a crowd, the magpie hopping along next to the train tracks, the little bats fluttering around at sundown. I don’t know what it is but the sudden realization that I am alive & the earth is often kind. Isn’t that marvelous? How strange it is to open your eyes to another fresh morning & knowing you can start over at any point
Dante Émile, from "Listening to The Mountain Goats while on public transport"
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