Warnings/tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, slight enemies to friends to lovers at some points, longing, angst, renaissance era, use of feminine pronouns and features, eventual smut(?), cursing, forbidden love, a lot of not very period accurate things because well itâs my story and Iâll make up what I want.
Master list
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âShhâ the young boy whispered, holding your small hand in his as he drags you through the vast and unending halls of the castle. âBucky slow down! I have smaller legs than you!â You whisper using your free hand to grip your night dress so you donât trip over it.
Lighting flashed outside the stain glass windows, thunder followed in loud booms. Every time Buckyâs hand gripped yours a little tighter. Heâs never liked storms.
You both make it to his chambers, your small bodies quietly sneaking through his door as to not wake the guard posted outside his room. Bucky shuts it softly with a sigh of relief, he takes your hand again and you both move for his bed.
This isnât the first time during a storm the young prince has come to find you. Youâve grown up together, granted you were both born into different lives but that didnât stop the bond you two had. Your father was a knight, But was killed for treason. To spare you and your mother the Queen allowed you both to stay in the castle and work as servants for the crown.
When you first came here you were only three, Bucky was five. The princess, Rebecca being the same age as you, the Queen allowed you to attend some of her courses with her while your mother worked around the castle. Becca was sweet and always made sure you were right by her. Especially during dance lessons which were your favorite.
Bucky, even at the age of five. Was attending lessons on how to rule a kingdom. It wasnât until almost two years later, during the night you had snuck out of your small room you shared with your mother, feeling restless and craving a snack. You were planning on making a quick trip to the kitchens to snag a biscuit the chef always left out for the guards who worked during the night.
But on your way, in the dark hall you heard sniffling. Your brows furrowed together, your small face scrunching with curiosity. You followed the sound to find the young prince hidden behind a pillar, one of many that decorate the hall.
âAre you alright your ma-majesty?â Your small voice asks, concentrating hard on the last word so that it is pronounced correctly. He snaps his head up, quickly wiping his eyes with the back of his hands âyes. Go away.â He snaps turning away from you more.
âBut you are cryingâ you point out âmy momma says if you see someone crying sometimes they just need a hug. To get the sad outâ you extend your small arms, smiling softly. He turns his head slowly, looking at you over his shoulder. âI donât hug servantsâ he mumbles. âItâs not properâ he adds as he moves to stand.
You drop your arms back to your sides âWhatâs proper?â You ask head tilted in confusion. He looks at you, head pointed down slightly. âIâm not really sure. But father says Iâm not supposed to be kind to servantsâ he admits, picking at his sleep shirt sleeve.
âOhâ you mutter, âbut can you talk to them?â You ask. He shrugs âyeah, to ask for somethingâ you smile then âthen why donât you just ask for a hug? Then itâd be pro-properâ you say matter of factly struggling with the last word slightly. Bucky smiles then. Itâs small but there. he glances around the pillar making sure no one is passing before he whispers âmay-may I have a hug?â He asks.
You nod quickly and wrap your small arms around his torso. Heâs not much taller than you, but heâs tall enough that his chin can rest on top of your head. âIs the sad gone now?â You ask quietly. He slowly wraps his arms around you and nods âI think soâ he says and steps back after a few seconds.
Lightening strikes outside the castle walls, causing Bucky to jump slightly. You look from him to the stain glass window where rain is hitting against it. âDo you not like the rain?â You ask and he shakes his head âno⊠itâs loud and I canât sleep when it rains..â he mumbles looking down. âI donât like it either, when I canât sleep my momma plays with my hair or rubs my back, OH! or sometimes sheâll sing a song! I could do that for you!â You say getting a little excited.
Buckyâs eyes widen a little, âyou would?â He asks softly and you nod, âmhmmâ. That was the first night you had ever shared a bed with someone other than your mother. A scared seven year old Prince, who let a five year old servant girl rub heâs back until you both fell asleep. That morning you had woken up back in your bed though. You never knew how you got back there but your five year old mind brushed it off. It wasnât the last time though. You spent many nights running around the castle or sneaking into his chambers with the young prince, comforting each other during the rainy nights and others just spending time together to be kids. Kids without roles that were placed on them at birth.
Now, at the ages ten and thirteen here you are again. Bucky sneaking you into his chambers on a stormy night. You both sit on his bed facing each other, âdid you hear?â He asks, fiddling with his thumbs. âHear what?â You question. âMy fatherâs sending me away.. to a school in the east.. says Iâll become a proper prince there and that theyâll teach me how to be a king..â you frown âin the east? Where in the east? For how long?â You ask quickly, your breath becoming uneven. Bucky shrugs âsomewhere called.. Mo-Moldova? I donât know when Iâll be backâŠâ he sniffles slightly, head pointed down to his lap.
You shake your head, taking in a shaky breath as your eyes fill with tears âbut.. but you canât go..â. He looks up at you as a tear slides down your cheek âI have too, my father ordered it.â He states âbut itâs not fair!â You exclaim âyouâre my best friend..â you add sadly. Something changes in him then. Something youâve seen a little of before in recent months but itâs never been directed towards you. Not until now.
âI am not your friend.. I am your prince and soon to be king..â he mumbles. Voice sounding bitter now. âW-what? Bucky-â he cuts you off standing from his bed now. âMy name is not Bucky it is James! Prince James! And you will address me as such!â He snaps, your eyes widen at his out burst. âGet out! Get out! You-you nasty servant! Get out before I call my guard!â He shouts pointing towards his door.
Your breath quickens, and you scramble to stand hopping down off of his bed, running to his door. You pull it open and step out, but glance back once. His back is still towards you and his shoulders are heaving. You shut the door then and with tears streaming down your cheeks you run all the way back down to the servants quarters. All the way back to the small room you shared with your mother. That night, as your mother lay quietly next to you in the small bed you wept quietly. That was the first time a boy has ever made you cry.
ââ
Now, thirteen years later. You have grown into a young woman. You now assist with chores around the castle and sometimes, you assist the princess. Becca has always been a constant, besides your mother she is a warm comfort during your long days. Sheâs someone you are able to confide in without worry of repercussions.
Currently you are helping her with her hair. Working on a beautiful updo. âDid you hear?â Becca asks softly, fiddling with a bracelet on her wrist as she glances at you through the mirror in front of her. You smile shaking your head softly âhear what?â You ask âdear James is coming back, should be here in a day or so is what mother saysâ she explains smiling. Your hands slow on her hair slightly âoh?â You say softly and she nods âyes! Canât wait to see him, heâs been gone for so longâ Becca adds and you hum in response, choosing to stay quiet.
She senses the change in you. Squinting at you through the mirror before turning around to face you. âArenât you excited?â She asks. You remove your hands from her hair looking down at her from where she sits. âOf course⊠itâs just, you know how our last talk wasâ you explain. The day after it happened you had confided in her about it during a dance lesson you were allowed to go to. Rebeccaâs face softens then and she gently grabs your hand in hers âI know, and I know it hurt him just as much. But he does careâ she says softly.
You shake your head, offering a small smile as you place your hands on her shoulders and gently turn her to face the mirror again. âI doubt he feels that way now..â you say as your hands begin fixing her hair again. Becca laughs lightly âthen you truly donât know my brotherâ
ââ
Two days passed by quickly, and the castle was buzzing with the excitement of the princes return. Some wondering how heâd react being back after being away for so long and others, mostly the younger servants and ladies maids gossiping about how he must look and if heâs as handsome as some say he is now. You were just wondering if hopefully⊠heâd remember you.
A small part of you always dreamed of this day, when heâd return and things between you would be as they were before that night so long ago. But you knew, deep down. It was a foolish thought. A dream.
âMy dear hurry with those linens, we havenât got much time before he arrives and we are all to be in the entrance hall for his arrivalâ your mother rushes, shoving a basket of clean linens into your hands and effectively snapping you out of your thoughts. âYes motherâ you nod. Adjusting your grip on the basket you make the all too familiar walk to his room. His chambers. The one for years now has been empty.
Stepping in felt like stepping into a memory. Everything relatively the same besides a few things missing that he had taken with him before he left. You hadnât stepped back in here since that night. Letting out a heavy sigh you begin undressing the bed, replacing the old linens with the new. Making sure there was no wrinkles or creases. Taking your time to straighten and fluff the pillows. As you finish you slowly leave the room. On your way out taking one last look.
As you make your way back down the hall your mother calls for you, her dress shirts gathered slightly in her hand as she approaches you in a rushed jog âmy dear hurry! The carriage has just arrived!â She exclaims, and you both rush to the servants quarters, quickly setting down the baskets you both carry before turning and rushing to the entrance hall where other servants and maids lineup on each side of the grand double doors. Guards stand in a stiff line in front of you. Heads stuck looking straight ahead while you and the other servants behind them stand heads pointed down with your hands clasped in front of you. You were never to make direct eye contact with a royal.
Trumpets blared and cheers roared outside the castle, signaling the princeâs arrival. After what felt like hours but was only minutes the grand doors opened. Revealing the royal family as they walk in together. You glance your eyes up, trying to get a glimpse of them. From what you can see, the prince.. James, and his father were in front. The Queen and Rebecca walking not too far behind them.
They stop in the middle, the king announces his sonâs return âthe prince has returned!â He exclaims proudly, all the guards and servants bow. In unison we all welcome him back âwelcome home our princeâ before standing straight again. You glance up once again, careful to not move your head. You spot him through the bodies of guards in front of you. He has grown. Heâs taller, a lot taller. Broader too and his hair now hangs softly at his shoulders. He looks strong. He looks like someone who would be king.
Heâs looking around, staring at the rows of guards and servants before him. His eyes pass over you without a thought, before.. for a spilt second they come back to you and your eyes lock onto each other. And for that small moment your heart picked up its pace. Does he remember me? But the thought was quickly stopped. Your motherâs elbow poking at your side snapping you back into your proper place.
âCome my son! We are throwing a grand ball in your honor tonight!â The king exclaims, he claps his hands and like clock work the servants and guards disperse. All quickly going back to work to prepare for tonight. Your mother grabs your elbow and drags you with her. But not before you take a chance on one more glance at the prince. But you find he was already looking at you.
Ilya didn't know what came over himself but every instinct in his body told him to slap his boyfriends ass. So he did. It was casual, almost careless, but as the crack of the slap echoed across the lake, so did the moan from Shane's throat.Â
or: Ilya slaps Shane's ass and Shane REALLY likes it.
I liked this one so much that I decided to post it here as well! - Ghost
It was a crisp day in late August and the sun had already dipped behind the trees when the banter started. They were both lounging on the porch of Shane's cottage - Shane with his head in Ilya's lap, and Ilya sipping on a beer, wearing a shit-eating grin that said 'I'm winning this argument'.Â
"You're so full of shit." Shane said with a lazy voice, eyes half shut. "You would have missed that last goal by a mile if my controller didn't disconnect."
Ilya snorted. "Lyubimyy, just admit, I am the hockey video game master."Â
Shane rolled his eyes but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Keep dreaming Rozanov."
They'd been at this for at least an hour - light jabs, who deserved the last chip in the bowl, who looked better in the team's new hoodie. The kind of sharp-edged flirting that had become their method of affection over the years. Ilya combed his fingers through Shane's hair.Â
"You talk big game for someone who folded like wet napkin in the locker room with me last week."
Shane snorted a laugh. "That was strategic retreat. Huge difference." He stands up to grab another beer from the cooler.
"Oh Mr. Strategy." Ilya teased. "You are lucky I fell so generous tonight." Shane shook his head in defeat and grabbed the iron stoker and poked at the fire pit that had been spitting flankers. Ilya didn't know what came over himself but every instinct in his body told him to slap his boyfriends ass. So he did. It was casual, almost careless, but as the crack of the slap echoed across the lake, so did the moan from Shane's throat.Â
They both froze and Shane's face turned a vibrant shade of red. Too ashamed to look back, he started off into the trees, white knuckling the bottle in his hand. "Don't." He muttered, but it sounded more like a plea than a command.Â
Ilya tilted his head, studying Shane. The smirk he had now replaced by something sharp and hungry. "It did not sound like a 'don't' to me."
Shane swallowed. "Ilya-" Another slap sent the stoker tumbling to the ground and elicited a different sound. This time it was a whimper - a small, helpless whimper.
Ilya exhaled through his nose like he had been punched. "Fuck you are serious." Shane couldn't bring himself to answer. The tips of his ears burned and the tingle on his ass cheek left a dry feeling in his mouth. Ilya stood abruptly, not caring that his beer had tipped over into the grass. Shane turned to meet his eyes slowly, and they were hungry. "Bedroom." Ilya ordered. "Now."
Shane walked ahead of him on shaking legs, acutely aware of every step he took and every time the fabric of his shorts moved against the sensitive skin on his ass. The bedroom door clicked behind them. Ilya didn't rush. He gently pushed Shane face-down onto the duvet, fully clothed, and climbed on top of him, bracketing Shane's thighs with his knees. One hand settled between Shane's shoulder blades to hold him in place, the other rubbed slow, methodical circles over the curve of his ass.Â
"Are you going to tell me to stop?" Ilya asked, leaning low so that his breath tickled the other's ear.Â
Shane shook his head and with a cracked voice he answered, "no."
"Good." The first new spank came down hard enough to make Shane's entire body jolt. Heat bloomed instantly, sharp and bright. The second followed right after, then a third. Each one delivered just for Ilya to hear the sounds of pleasure escape involuntarily from Shane's lips. He paused at ten, hand smoothing over fabric like he was petting something precious. "Still good?"
Shane nodded frantically, the duvet now damp from the stream of tears running from his eyes. His cock was painfully hard against the mattress and he could hardly help his hips rocking downward to relieve some of the tension.Â
Ilya groaned in satisfaction. "Greedy Hollander." He shoved Shane's shirt up as far as he could and pulled down the lower garments just enough to expose Shane's ass. Ilya stood back for a moment to admire his work - one cheek as he had always seen it and the other bright red with the faint outline of his palm. He had decided in that moment that not even Da Vinci could paint something this beautiful. He kneaded a handful of the swollen flesh before cracking his hand down again. Ilya built a slow but firm rhythm, each swat turned into a deep ache that made Shane tremble. Every few strikes, Ilya would pause to knead again and, if curiosity peaked him, he would use his thumb to pull back the cheek just enough to watch his boyfriend's hole flutter. Shane was so fucking embarrassed but god did he want to keep going.Â
"You like this," Ilya said with wonderment. "You really fucking like this."
Shane could only nod and sniffle, now at a loss for words. When Ilya slid his hands between Shane's thighs to find him leaking and hard, he could only groan as if he were the one being spanked. He knelt to the floor and pulled Shane's hips out just a little. One hand wrapped around Shane's aching dick, the other resuming the spanking. Beads of pre-cum rolled down Ilya's hand and dripped onto the floor. Shane's thighs shook with each slap and the whimpers of wanting were no longer spaced out by silence.Â
"Will you cum like this Hollander?" Ilya asked with intent. "I haven't even fucked you." Shane made a broken sounds that resembled a yes. "Then do it."Ilya insisted. "Let me see."
It didn't take long after that. Ilya would guess maybe three more slaps before Shane came with a shuddering cry into the mattress. His hips jerked uncontrollably and cum gushed out onto Ilya's pants. The lingering heat on his ass amplified every pulse until he had nothing left to give. Ilya eased him through it, palm rubbing slowly over the sensitive skin. He certainly did a number on the poor guy. When Shane finally stopped trembling, Ilya leaned in to press a kiss into the back of his thigh.Â
"I hope you don't like this rug too much. You made a mess." Ilya teased softly.
Shane laughed - breathless, wrecked, and happy. He turned his head just enough to catch Ilya's eye.
"Fuck off," he rasped, smiling. "We're doing this again tomorrow."
Ilya answered, with that shit-eating grin: "Deal."
Summary: Your coworker peer pressured you to look up SergeantBarnes in Pornhub, reason? Because apparently you're missing out. Little did you know that that same dude was your neighbour.
synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?
themes/warnings : smut (18+), language, angst!!!, slow burn!!!, pining, unrequited love, Steve is kind of an asshole for leaving (but we love him anyway), unresolved trauma, heartbreak, friends to lovers
TAGLIST CLOSED.
main masterlist
visual aid : #1
masterpoll : declare your side
part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six (18+) - part seven - part eight (18+) - part nine (18+) - part ten - part eleven - part twelve - part thirteen (out March 17*)
Summary: You were his healer, his shadow. His Lisichka. You had been with him during the darkest times and when it came to break free, there was no way he would leave without you.
Word Count: 1553
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader
Part II
Notes:
There will be more! This is just Part I of a series I'm currently working on. This is my first time ever writing in second person and trying writing reader povs!!
The Soldier didnât know what to think of her. She was meager, curled in on herself as much as the handcuffs that kept her wrist pinned to the metal table allowed. From where he was pushed into the chair across from her he could see bruises already coloring the skin under the handcuff. She tried to fight. He vaguely remembers fighting. But it was hard to think with his side oozing blood. The metallic smell made him nauseous, almost as much as the sight of his gnarled side. But the Soldier didnât get nauseous. That was for a man who died long ago, one he didnât really remember much anymore.Â
âGive her your arm, Soldier,â Handler ordered. He moved without thinking about it, resting his metal wrist in the palm of her hand. Handler and the others laughed. He couldnât understand why. âYour flesh arm."
His brows furrowed. They never asked for that arm. For a moment he wanted to hesitate. They wouldnât take that one too would they? His body moved again without his consent. Her skin was cold against his arm. His eyes traced her fingers as they wrapped around his wrist, enclosing it in a freezing touch. The veins in his arm slowly turned black, the color traveling up his arm until he could feel his side being stitched together. The hiss that left his lips was involuntary, but he couldn't help it. Handler would punish him for it later. Then her touch was gone and the Soldier stared into her tired eyes. Into the bloodshot whites and the faint beginning of a nosebleed above her lip.Â
âWell done,â Handler praised her. When he waved to the other men behind her they roughly tugged her out of her seat after uncuffing her wrists.Â
âWho is she?â The Soldier asked. His entire body tensed, ready for retaliation for speaking.Â
âA quick recovery for you, Soldier,â Handler said, âyou should be relieved. She will be able to get you back out for missions quicker.â
He wasnât relieved. He didnât feel anything.Â
âSoldier?â Your voice was soft as you looked up from where you were curled on the floor of what looked like an old bank vault. The floor was freezing, unforgiving against your skin. Yet relief filled your chest when he finally came back. The Soldier. He had no visible bruises, save for the familiar scrape from whatever machine caused him to scream. The agent whose name you knew was Rumlow shoved him into the cell and quickly locked the gate. The Soldier stumbled, falling onto all fours as he took ragged breaths. Whatever they did to him always left him disoriented, confused. You hated it. Slowly you crawled over, pressing your hand to his cheek and willing for the scrape to close. The icy feeling traveled through your hand to his skin and back.
âLisichka,â His voice was rough as he pressed his cheek to your hand for a moment before turning away, âdonât do that when they donât order you to.â
âI wanted to,â You said firmly. He hated when they made you heal him, hated seeing the toll it took on your body. You were already frail from their cruel treatment and lack of care. âWhere did they make you go?â
âA bridge,â he said, eyebrows furrowing in concentration, âthere was a man. He was my mission.â
âI donât like when you leave,â You whispered, inching closer, trying to hide from the watchful eyes of the guards. The Soldier leaned back on his knees and turned to shield you from their gaze. âTheyâll make me sleep again soon, I heard them say it.â
âThe same will happen to me,â He said, trying to assure himself. Each time they brought you out it was harder, your body struggled more to adjust. The serum did not make you like him, a super soldier. It amplified what you were naturally, a healer. He had heard them talk about it once. They had given you a different formula of the serum. Diluted. Didnât want to risk you having too much strength, keep you weak and pliable. He didnât believe any of that. There were some days he thought you were stronger than him.
âI donât think I will wake up next time,â You mumbled, eyes trailing down. The Soldier didnât want to think about that possibility. The possibility of him waking up and you staying in that chamber. It burned him to see you in it. Yet, you still looked beautiful through the frost covered glass; like a woman from an animated movie he couldnât name.Â
âI wonât let that happen,â he murmured, standing to his full height and offering his hand. You slipped your hand into his with trust and he pulled you up with ease. âRest.â
âYou wonât be here when I wake up, youâll be gone again,â you said, laying down on the meager cot anyways. The Soldier sat on the edge, spine straight and at attention. He didnât answer you, just stared through the bars and at the pacing guards.Â
âAgain,â Handler barked. Every single one of your muscles ached. Bruises painted your skin from the other guards. They called it training, said it was needed. You knew otherwise. This was their entertainment. You had no formal training. No way of actually fighting back. But you didnât give up. Didnât roll over and take it. Even if your swings were not as coordinated or as powerful as their satisfaction filled your chest when any of them made contact. The guard reached for your arm and you instinctively swung your fist, feeling it connect with bone and a sickening crunch filled the room. The guard let out a string of curses through gasps of pain.Â
âEnough,â Handler snapped, his grip on your arm was unforgiving. âMaybe we should have you go against the Soldier.â
âNo,â His voice was rasped, scratchy from lack of use. Handler snapped in his direction, asking him to repeat himself. The Soldier just looked up at him with half-lidded eyes from where he was dutifully leaning against the wall, âNo more.â
âAh,â Handler said and gripped your jaw, that made the Soldier push himself off the wall, âIs she your little shadow? Maybe youâve become too attached to her. Should we dispose of her and-â
A shot rang through the room, echoing off the walls and silencing Handler. The gun in the Soldierâs hand was still smoking. Handler was silenced for once and satisfaction flowed through you. The bullet had missed of course. If the Soldier wanted him dead he would be. You wondered if he could even kill Handler, if his orders would let him. Would that have been it? Would the bullet have been lodged in his skull instead of the wall behind them.Â
âYou insolent-â They were speaking too fast for you to catch exactly what they were saying.
They sent you back to your cell and only you brought you back out to heal the Soldier again. He had bruises lining his face and his eye was nearly swollen. That was what you could see at first glance, you knew he had more hiding under his leather jacket. But the look in his eye was undeniable. He was smug. It was the first time you had seen him show any emotion other than indifference in front of Handler and the guards.Â
Part of you knew it wouldnât be the last time either.Â
It was quiet ever since the Soldier was sent away. You didnât know how many days it had been. There were no windows in the vault. Or if it had been days. All you knew was that you were getting weaker, more tired. No one was there. No one had been there since they all rushed out the door at the orders of Rumlow. You pulled the blanket off the cot and curled on the ground. The cot had fallen apart after you angrily threw it against the wall in tears when you realized no one was coming. You would die alone in this vault. No one knew you were there, you didnât know anyone except for the guards and the Soldier.Â
Then there was a noise. A banging in the distance. It was getting closer. Part of you wanted to hide yet deep down you knew exactly what this was. Exactly who this was. You got up, shakily walking to the bars and wrapping your hands around them as he got closer. When the door across the room flew open he stood there. His chest was rising and falling rapidly with each of his breaths as he crossed the room in three long strides.Â
âYou came back,â You said softly, âSoldier-â
âMy name is Bucky,â his voice rasped, tugging on the bars enough to wrench the door open and snack the lock.Â
âYou remembered?â You asked in awe, your hands flying to his cheeks. Again, healing the scrape on his cheek without having ordered. Willing the bone in his arm to snap back together. He flinched and you gave a soft apology. His hand cupped your cheek, the metal cold against your skin. His thumb traced the curve of your cheek.Â
âI was reminded,â he said softly, âwe need to go.â
Summary: Bucky was just too big and he was desperate for just one more
Warnings: Size kink, filthy talk, overstimulation, soft dom with a filthy mouth Bucky, praising and possession themes. Reader is AFAB.
âĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄ
âGod, look at you,â Bucky groaned, voice like gravel in your ear, deep and filthy. âTryinâ so hard to take my cock, baby. So fuckinâ tight around me. So full.â
You whimpered, thighs trembling on either side of his hips. He was so deep, and it still wasnât all of him. You could feel the heft of him inside youâstretching you open inch by devastating inch, your pussy clenching around the thick girth of him like youâd never get used to it.
âI canât-â you could barely breathe, face flushed, mouth open as you clung to his shoulders. âBucky, youâre too bigâfuckââ
âYes, you can,â he growled, dark and soothing at once. âYou are. Look at that greedy little pussy takinâ me, baby. So desperate for it.â His metal hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face down to focus on where his cock was splitting you open. âYouâre squeezinâ me so tight I can barely fuckinâ move. Feels like you're suffocating my cock.â
He rocked his hips just enough to push in another inch and you gasped, your eyes rolling back as your nails dug into his skin. He was buried almost to the hilt now, only a breath away from bottoming outâand you swore you could feel him in your stomach.
âThatâs it, pretty girl,â he purred, brushing his lips against your ear. âAlmost there. Gonna split you open real slow so you feel every fuckinâ inch. You love it, donât you? Love sittinâ on this cock like itâs made for you.â You moaned, the sound shameless and wrecked.
âSay it,â he rasped. âTell me who this pussy belongs to.â
âYou,â you gasped. âFuck, Buckyâitâs yoursâalways yoursââ
âThatâs my girl,â he hissed. âKeep sayinâ it. You want the rest? You want all of me?â
You nodded frantically, tears in your eyes from how good the pressure was. âThen take it.â His hands gripped your hips and slammed you down the last inch with a sharp snap of his hips that knocked the air from your lungs. âOh fuckââ you cried, your whole body shuddering. âThere it is,â he groaned, his head dropping back. âYou feel that, baby? Feel me balls deep inside this pretty little cunt?â
You screamed, clenching around him hard enough to make him choke on a groan, and he laughedâdark, wrecked, breathless.
âShitâyouâre so fuckinâ tight. So wet. Drippinâ all over me. Fucking christ you're dripping down my thighs baby, so fucking messy for me. My sweet pussyâs just begginâ to be used, huh?â
âPlease,â you gasped, rutting against him, desperate for more friction, more anything.
âYou beg so fuckinâ pretty,â he murmured. âAlright, babyâhold on.â
He started moving. Slow, filthy thrusts that dragged every thick inch of him along your fluttering walls, his cock stretching you open again and again, hitting so deep you were seeing stars.Â
âCan feel you milkinâ me, fuckâyour pussy knows who it belongs to,â he gritted, voice barely holding together. âYou want me to fill you up, huh? Make you even more of a mess?â
âYes-yes, Bucky-pleaseââ
âThatâs right,â he snarled, thrusts picking up, his cock pounding into you now, wet and obscene. âGonna fuck you stupid on this cock, sweetheart. Gonna fill you so full you wonât be able to think about anything else. You wonât walk right for days. Just gonna lie there all fucked-out and dripping.â
The way he growled it in your ear had your orgasm ripping through you before you could even beg, your walls fluttering and clenching hard around him. You screamed his name, your body shuddering violently in his lap.âThatâs it,â he grunted, thrusts stuttering as he chased his own high. âFuck-gonnaâah-fuckinâ take it, babyâtake all my cumâah shit!â
He came hard, cock twitching deep inside you as he groaned against your shoulder, holding you down on him while you both trembled and breathed through the aftershocks. You were still whimpering, hips twitching in his lap, overstimulated but buzzing, drunk on the stretch and the heat of him pulsing inside you.
Bucky kissed the side of your neck, lips tender now. âStill with me, sweetheart?â he whispered. You hummed softly in response. âThatâs it. You did so good for me.â You nodded, dazed and boneless, slumping into him with a ruined little smile. âFuck,â he murmured, holding you tight. âYou really are made for me.â
You were limp in his lap, still full of him, dazed and slick and barely breathing right. Your thighs twitched around his hips. Your cheek rested on his chest, and Bucky stroked your back with one hand while the other cradled the back of your head, murmuring quiet praise like a balm.
âThatâs it, baby. You were perfect. Took all of me like a good girl,â he whispered, lips brushing your temple. âSo fuckinâ proud of you.â You mumbled something weak, dreamy, nearly nonverbal. All you could feel was the sticky heat between your legs, the slow softening of his cock inside you, the throb of being so full. You thought it was over. You thought youâd be wrapped in a blanket, cleaned up, and kissed to sleep.
But then Bucky shifted.
You blinked, weakly clinging to him as he lifted you in his arms. Easily. Effortlessly. Like you weighed nothing at all. âBucky?â you asked, voice hoarse. He looked down at you with that dangerous little half-smileâthe one that never meant anything innocent.
âYou think Iâm done with you, sweetheart?â he asked, voice low, syrupy, teasing. âNah. You were so fuckinâ good for me, lettinâ me stretch you out like that. Gotta reward you, donât I?â
âBuckyââ you whimpered, squirming in his arms. Your pussy was aching, soaked, overstimulated from the orgasm heâd just wrung out of you with his cock. âIâI donât think I can-â
âYeah, you can,â he said, kissing your cheek. âYouâre gonna take everything I give you, baby. Gonna lie there like my sweet little meal and let me eat this pussy âtil youâre cryinâ.â
You shuddered.
He laid you down on the bed with so much care you almost forgot what he just saidâuntil he dropped to his knees at the edge and dragged you down with firm hands, hooking your legs over his shoulders like he owned you.
âLook at this fuckinâ mess,â he groaned, spreading you open with his thumbs, staring at the creamy slick dripping from your spent cunt. âSo wet. So fucked out. Still twitchinâ for me.â
âBucky, Iâmâsensitive-â
âOh I know, baby.â He leaned in, breath warm on your soaked folds. âGonna take it slow. Real nice and slow darlin'.â
And then his mouth was on you. Hot, soft licks that made you sob, back arching as your fingers scrambled for the sheets. He was relentless. Lapping up every drop of his cum spilling out of you, tongue curling right against your clit like he already knew exactly how to undo you all over again. âYou taste like us,â he growled into your pussy. âSo fuckinâ sweet. Gonna lick this pretty cunt âtil youâre begginâ me to stop.â
Your thighs clenched around his head; he just growled and shoved them apart again with a bruising grip. âKeep those legs open for me, baby. Lemme ruin you properly.â
You whimpered his name, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes as his tongue flicked and sucked and fucked you open like he was starving. Every pass of his tongue over your clit made your stomach twist, your hips jerk, your whole body try to crawl away from the pleasure. But he just grabbed you by the hips and dragged you right back onto his face. âDonât run from me,â he murmured, voice muffled. âYou wanted it, remember? Said you needed me. Said you wanted everything I could give ya. So be my good girl and take it babe. â
Your second orgasm crashed down hardâalmost too hard. You cried out, thighs shaking violently around his head, your fingers fisting the sheets as your body convulsed with it.
But he didnât stop.
Not even when you sobbed his name. Not even when your legs kicked weakly. Not even when the tears slipped free. âShhh,â he murmured, breath warm and teasing as he finally slowed his licks. âYouâre okay. Just let it happen, baby. Let me make you feel good.â
Your voice was barely coherent through the wrecked gasps.
âToo muchâBuckyâitâs too much-â
He kissed your inner thigh, tongue dragging softly up your folds like an apology and a promise all at once.
âI know, baby,â he said gently. âJust one more. One more for me... just-- just need one more baby please. â
He looked up at you, eyes completely glazed over as he begged, then his mouth was back on youâmerciless.
âĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄ
If you like my work please let me know! Reblogging, commenting and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Request are open <3
Status: on going - Trope: slow burn / workplace - Content: fluff and angst-
Series Summary: "A chance encounter in a broken elevator ties together the lives of a hardened , emotionally closed off CEO James Barnes and a struggling single mother balancing her daughter , her new job , healing old wounds , and building something neither of them expected , a family."
pairing: new avenger!bucky barnes x fem!ex-hydra!reader
warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, dark themes, some dub-con/non-con themes (flashback), HYDRA abuse, coercion, unprotected sex, ptsd, heavy angst, winter soldier programming, unresolved tension (tw: sexual violence)
summary: you were built by HYDRA to please the soldierâthen left for dead. years later, bucky sees your face again. but no amount of time can erase the way you once whispered his name through tears.
inspired by this request
a/n: hi my loves, i am back from my short break with this series. it is my very first time writing some parts of bucky in his hydra era! this may also be my last series before i head off for my final internship before i graduate! i am so excited for you guys to read it and i genuinely hope you enjoy it đ
âą âcome home to meâ - during the rise and ruin of the second world war, a sharp-tongued brooklyn girl falls for james buchanan barnesâonly to lose him to the battlefield, a presumed death, and the silence that follows. but almost two years later, when the war is long over and the wounds have scarred over, he comes back through her door, proving that some promises do survive the fire. (14.7k) @danysdaughter
! âą âpromise without ceremonyâ - Bucky Barnes gave up on marriage a long time ago. But then, somewhere deep in a storm-soaked safe house, he pulls a bullet from your leg and accidentally proposes in the process. (3.9k) @cheekybarnes
âą âlessons in lovemakingâ - You and Bucky Barnes go undercover as a married couple, but when a fake kiss gets too real, he unexpectedly finishes in his pantsâleaving you both stunned. (smut masterlist) @artficlly
âą âthis is (not) fineâ - personal assistant rules: donât crush on bucky barnes. definitely donât misinterpret a flower purchase and spiral into silent heartbreak, and absolutely never ever get stuck alone with him in an elevator. (smut - 9.1k) @artficlly
âą âtake me homeâ - the team discovers bucky's relationship with you when bucky searches for you in the hospital after hydra attacks new york (secret marriage - 1.7k) @parkers-gal
âą âjackassâ - Everyone is horrified that Bucky is flirting with a married woman, but then they realise there's a reason why. (secret marriage - 3k) @aquaticmercy
! âą âlumberjack!bucky seriesâ - Roots and Branches is the main story, Hardwood the follow-up, and the rest are one shots that you can read -or not- in the order you desire. (oh my god i love this) @vunblr
âą âmoving inâ - You're moving into your brand new apartment with Bucky. (beefy!bucky smut) @brunchable
âą âmovie nightâ - You come home exhausted from another day of work, not expecting Bucky to surprise you with a little heart-warming gesture to show you how much he appreciates you. (fiance) @brunchable
âą âmy neighbour is a pâïžâ - Things have turned awkward. You and Bucky hasn't spoken with each other for a few days now. But is the much needed space making things better or worse? (part 3/3 - other parts are in their masterlist!) @brunchable
âą âall the apple cider and no more haunted housesâ - you and bucky barnes have a love-hate relationshipâyou love him and you believe he hates youâbut when your friends insist on going to the scariest haunted house attraction in the area, the experience ends up forcing your real feelings for each other out into light. (smut - 11.1k) @witchywithwhiskey
âą âthe forever third wheelsâ - it's the weekend of your town's annual valentine's day carnival and you go with your group of friends, though you can't help but be sad you don't have someone special in your life. your friend, and fellow third wheel, bucky barnes makes it his mission to give you a valentine's day you won't soon forgetâand show you how special you are to him. (6.6k) @witchywithwhiskey
âą âthe day afterâ - Your new roommate introduces you to her brother, but you met him last night. (implied smut - 2.3k+) @navybrat817
! âą âlike he means itâ - You canât take another night of hearing Bucky fuck a girl who isnât you. (oh my god đđ - mentions of sex - 13.6k) @marvelstoriesepic
! âą âsummer surpriseâ - You've been looking forward to kicking off the summer with a week on your dads new boat. You decide to have one last night of fun before committing to a week on the sea with your family. But you're thrown into a world of shock when you realize the older man you slept with, only days prior, is not only friends with your dad, but also joining you for the trip. (age-gap! - 21k) @pome-seed
! âą âwe couldnât stopâ - During a sweep of a forgotten HYDRA lab, you, Steve, and Bucky trigger an old aerosol dispersal system. No one realizes what hit you until itâs too late. Now stuck in quarantine- burning, aching, and caged in with two dominant, unraveling super soldiers- youâre forced to ride out the drugâs effects together. (Bucky & Steve - 7k) @societyfolklore
âą âfractured lightâ - In this emotional slow-burn romance, you, Steve Rogersâ best friend, find yourself homeless and jobless, seeking refuge in the Brooklyn apartment he shares with Bucky Barnes. While Steve welcomes you with open arms, Bucky is wary, his distrust rooted in a painful past tied to a silver ring from the 1940s. (oh my god - sobbing đ - 30k+) @onlyforsebastianstan
! âą âcaptain, stg, grumpy, and their doll!â - (poly!relationship, Steve x Reader x Bucky | Stucky x Reader - 1.5k) @mercurial-chuckles
âą âa favourâ masterlist - The team is close, obviously. They thought they knew everything about each other⊠until Y/N drunkenly admits to the team that sheâs never had sex. And sheâs eagerly waiting for that to change. Everyone is happy to step up to the plate, regardless of Buckyâs feelings for Y/N. Can he confess before itâs too late? (4 parts - 7.5k+ total) @buckysbabygorl
! âą âtied in trustâ - You only asked for something lightâjust a little teasing, some rope, a blindfold. But Bucky Barnes never did anything halfway. Not when it came to you. (literally my dream scenario with Buck - 7k) @buckyseternaldoll
*! âą âmanchildâ - bucky can't help but wonder why they always come running to you,, or your living fossil of a roommate disapproves of your taste in men and its totally not because he wants a taste of you. (smut - funny & adorable - 16.3k) @houseofhyde
RAFE:
*! âą âdaily cycleâ - (with countryboy!Rafe x citygirl!Reader - i absolutely adore this writers work) @calypso-rt
*! âą âdilf!rafe and milf!readerâ - dilf!rafe possessiveness - @rafesteddy
WILL KEEP UPDATING!
* means new, ! means personal favourites
MAKE SURE TO FOLLOW AND CHECK OUT ALL THESE AMAZING AUTHORâS CONTINUED WORKS!
ofc! loved this fic for months but only just added it because i couldnât find it because of the username change! love it so much and your talent! đđ
Summary : Bucky feels guilty for missing three months of his babyâs life while on a mission.
Pairing : Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife!reader (she/her), You have a baby named Jamie.
Warnings/tags : little bit of angst, Hurt/Comfort, domestic!Bucky, Baby Jamie, Tower fic! Lots and lots and lots of fluff!!!!
Word count : 5.4k
Note : This could be read as a sequel to Elevator, Baby! Or on its own as a one shot. Enjoy!
You stood at the base of the jet ramp, your heart in your throat and Jamie in your arms, bundled in a little blue jacket with bear ears on the hood. Bucky had been holding it together all morningâpacking, checking gear, getting briefedâbut the second he turned around and saw the two of you standing there, it all fell apart.
His eyebrows relaxed, lips parting just slightly as he took you inâyour tired eyes, your little smile, the way Jamie was chewing on his tiny mitten.
âC'mere,â Bucky said, voice already threatening to break.
He pulled you both into his arms in one sweeping motion, pressing you against his chest, his metal hand cradling the back of Jamieâs head. He kissed your forehead, then Jamieâs cheek, then your lips, then Jamieâs noseâover and over, like he was trying to memorise the feeling.
This mission was unavoidable.
A Hydra remnant had resurfacedâ and the team decided on a stealth op, one man in, one man out. No comms except for daily status checks. It had to be someone with experience, someone who knew Hydra, someone who could disappear without a trace and still come home.
It had to be Bucky.
But it killed him to go.
âI love you,â he whispered into your hair. âSo much. You take care of Mama, alright?â he said quietly to Jamie, who blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes. âIâll be back before you know it.â
You tried to smile, even as your eyes blurred. âWeâll be right here, Buck.â
Bucky kissed your lips again and lingered there, forehead to forehead afterward. âYouâre my whole world,â he said quietly. Then he pulled back, crouched to Jamieâs level, and pressed a hundred tiny kisses to his sonâs chubby cheeks.
âLove you, Jamie,â he cooed. âIâm so proud of you already,â he whispered, his voice cracking just a little. âDonât grow up too fast while Iâm gone, okay?â
Jamie laughed, squeezing his fatherâs vibranium fingers with his mittened hands.
Bucky kissed him one more time. Then you.
Then he stepped awayâ like if he turned around too quickly, he wouldn't want to go.
â
You and Bucky had a cosy little house in the suburbs just outside the city on a quiet street with a fenced-in backyard and a nursery Bucky had painted himself in. It was your dream place to raise Jamie. But when Bucky got called in for the mission, he insisted that you and the baby stay in the Watchtower while he was gone.Â
âItâs safer,â he had said with his hand on your back. âSecurityâs tighter. Youâll have people around if anything happens. Please, honey,â he had puzzled into your neck, placing gentle kisses there, âItâll help me sleep at night.âÂ
You couldnât argue. With Yelena and John both on recovery, Bob always nearby, and even with Ava and Alexei in and out on missions, you wouldnât be alone. There was always someone to lend a hand, and the reinforced security systems at the Tower made your alarm system look like a toy. So, for Buckyâs peace of mindâand maybe yours, tooâyou agreed.
But you were only supposed to be here for four weeks.
Thatâs what Bucky saidââJust a month, sweets. They wonât even know I was there.â He had smiled when he said it, trying to hide how hard it was to leave you. âIt'll go so fast.â
It didnât.
The days passed like honey, slow and sticky. Jamie was teething, waking every couple of hours with red cheeks and a heartbreaking whimper. Every time you soothed him back to sleep, you whispered stories about his daddyâhow brave he was, how much he loved him, how every mission he ever went on was just so he could protect you both.
The New Avengers had your back. Bob made you meals, even when you werenât hungry. John insisted on installing baby gates. Yelena would hold Jamie when your arms got tired. Alexei insisted he remembered how to swaddle (he didnât), and Ava had access to the baby monitorâ because realistically, if there was an emergency, she would get there the fastest by phasing through walls.
And every night, at exactly 2200 hours, the comms come to life with a single message from the field.Â
âAlive.â
That was all you got. Nothing more. You werenât allowed to respond, couldnât ask if he was warm, if heâd eaten, if he missed youâthough you knew the answer.
Then, at the 30-day mark, a second message came.
âNeed more time. One month.â
You had to sit down. Your heart beat so loud and quick it muffled the silence that followed.
John placed a hand on your shoulder. âYouâre doing great,â he said. âAnd heâs gonna be okay.â
But you didnât feel great, though.Â
â
Around week six, it happened.
Youâd just finished changing Jamie into his footie pajamasâthe yellow ones with little moons and starsâand were placing him on the playmat in the middle of the living room when he surprised you. Heâd been trying for days, wobbling like a baby penguin with a mission, always toppling sideways or collapsing onto his belly with a frustrated huff.
But this time⊠he did it.
With a determined little grunt and a proud scrunch of his brow, Jamie pushed himself uprightâhis pudgy hands planted firmly on the mat, his legs bent in just the right wayâand he satâŠ. unassisted.
You froze, blinking in disbelief for a full second before the joy hit you like a wave.
âYou sat up on your own, Jamie!â you squealed, your voice high and overwhelmed with pride. You rushed forward, scooping him into your arms and covering his chubby cheeks with rapid-fire kisses. âYouâre so clever!â
Jamie laughed a delighted giggle that made your heart explodeâand you clapped for him like heâd just graduated from college. You kissed him again and again, whispering praises, brushing his hair back, watching how his eyes lit up from your joy.
But then you looked upâ just for a second.
Your eyes flicked instinctively toward the doorway, half-expecting to see Bucky there leaning against the frame. You could practically picture itâthe way heâd whisper "Atta boy..."Â
But the doorway was empty.
Oh, right. He wasnât here.
Still, you held Jamie close to your chest, rocking him gently as his small hands gripped your shirt. âDaddy wouldâve loved that,â you whispered into his hair, kissing the top of his head. âHe wouldâve clapped louder than me.â
â
It was around week seven when it happenedâ a quiet afternoon in the nursery, rain pattering against the Watchtowerâs windows, and you were in the other room folding laundry while Yelena played with Jamie on the floor. You heard her voice, delighted. âWaitâwait, wait! bozhe moyâheâs doing it!â
You dropped the stack of baby onesies and rushed in just in time to see Jamie, your seven-month-old bundle of determination, wiggling forward on his hands and knees, his little face scrunched in focus as he crawled for the first timeâ straight toward his favourite stacking rings.
Yelena already had her phone out, camera rolling, grinning like a proud aunt. âLook at this strong little soldier,â she said, laughing. âHe has places to be!â
You dropped to your knees beside them, your hand over your mouth as laughter and tears bubbled up all at once. âOh my God. Oh my God, Jamie,â you whispered, scooping him into your arms as he squealed, triumphant. âYou did it, baby. You did it!â
Later that night, after Jamie had drifted off in his crib, you sat in the Watchtower kitchen surrounded by avengers and half-drunk mugs. You played the video again (complete with Yelenaâs commentary, Jamieâs babbling giggles, the sound of his tiny palms slapping the play mat) as everyone gathered aroundâAva and Bob peering over your shoulder, John and Alexei leaning against the fridge.
âHe did this today?â Ava said, visibly impressed.
You nodded. âHe just⊠took off.â
âBucky would lose his mind,â you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else. âHeâs been waiting for this.â You wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie, glanced toward the nursery monitor on the table.
âHeâs growing up so fast,â you said softly. âToo fast.â
And though no one said it aloud, you could feel it in the way Ava gently touched your shoulder, in the way Yelena squeezed your hand, in the way even John stayed silent for onceâ Bucky was missing moments he would never get back.
â
Around week eight, the daily message finally came through on the Tower comms, blinking with the same buzz it always did. You dropped what you were doing and hurried over, hoping that today would be the day he said he was on his way home.
But the screen displayed:
âNeed more time.â
That was it.
No follow-up and no time estimate.Â
You stood there in the dimmed hallway light, heart sinking into your stomach. You pressed a hand to the monitor screen like it might somehow pass through, like it might reach himâ like it might let him know how much you needed him now.
You hadnât realised just how much hope youâd pinned on hearing something different today.
After you got Jamie down for the night, you sat in the rocking chair by the window in the nursery. You clutched one of his worn t-shirts to your chestâwashed too many times but still faintly smelling like himâand glanced at the small framed photo on your nightstand.
It was a candid shot of Bucky holding Jamie the day after he was born. His metal hand was cradling Jamieâs head so delicately, his human hand around his little body.
You looked at it every nightâ and lately, youâd started talking to it.
âI swear, Buck, heâs got your attitude,â you murmured with a smile. âFights nap time like heâs trying to break out of a prison transport. Heâs teething now, tooâtwo little teeth on the bottom. He bit my shoulder today and then laughed.â
You laughed to yourself, but it was tired. âAnd he crawled up two stairs today. Alexei nearly had a heart attack. Iâm fine. Totally fine. Totally not freaking out.â
You rested your head against the back of the chair, tears burning your eyes as you looked over at the crib.
Jamie was sound asleep, arms spread, a tiny fist curled around the edge of his blanket. You got up and tiptoed over.
âWanna say goodnight to Daddy, sweetheart?â
As part of your nightly routine, youâd started showing Jamie a few photos of Buckyâhis favorite was the one of Bucky grinning with sunglasses on and Jamie strapped to his chest in a carrier.. Youâd hold it up and say, âThatâs your daddy. He loves you so much.â
Then youâd pull up the recording Bucky had made weeks before the mission of him reading Jamieâs favourite bedtime storyâ Goodnight Moon. It had been his idea, something he insisted on recording âjust in case.â
As his voice filled the roomââGoodnight comb and goodnight brushâŠââJamie stirred, but only to sigh and snuggle deeper into the mattress, soothed by the sound of the man he hadnât seen in more than three months.
â
By the time week twelve rolled around, the days had started to blur into each other. You werenât sure if it was Tuesday or Saturday, or if youâd eaten lunch or just forgotten again. Your life was just Jamieâs routine and the single nightly message from Bucky.
âAlive.â
That was all he was allowed to say. It wasnât much, but it was everything to you.
But then came the night the comms didnât crackle at all.
Youâd finished Jamieâs bedtime routineâbath, bottle, storyâand sat in the control room with the monitor nearby, watching the clock tick past the usual transmission window. You waited one minute. Then ten. Then twenty.
Just as your chest began to tighten, Ava appeared in the doorway, still in half of her mission gear.
âDelay in transmission,â she reassured. âThereâs been some disruption on the line. It doesnât mean anything bad. Happens sometimes.â
You nodded, even though your stomach had already sunk halfway through the floor. âThanks.â
But sleep didnât come that night. You tried to lie down, tried to close your eyes, but your body was on high alert.
So instead, you padded barefoot to the nursery and lifted Jamie from his crib. He stirred in your arms, but didnât fully wakeâ just tucked his head against your shoulder the way BUcky often did when you cuddled, tiny fingers curling into your sleeve like he knew you needed him as much as he needed you.
You curled up in the rocking chair with him, forehead pressed against the fuzz of his hair.
âDaddyâs okay,â you whispered, rocking slowly,âHeâs coming home soon. Any day now, sweetheart. He promised.â
â
One night, while you rocked Jamie through the tail end of another teething fuss, the Towerâs main comm crackled to life.
You werenât expecting muchâ maybe the usual âAliveâ, maybe nothing at all. But then you saw it.
âOn my way back. ETA: 2 hours.â
You stared at the words for a second, blinking once they sank in.
Oh.
Oh. Oh my God.
Your heart started racing, hands trembling around Jamieâs warm little body. You pressed a kiss to his hair, eyes filling with tears. âHeâs coming home, baby,â you whispered to him.
Two hours later, almost to the minute, the Watchtowerâs hangar doors hissed open with a mechanical sigh. The team had decided to give you privacy, so you were the only one there.Â
Still, your lungs had forgotten how to work the second you saw him.
Bucky.
He stood at the top of the ramp, his tactical gear scraped and worn, smeared with dust and bloodHis hair was tied back, a little longer than when heâd left. His face was gaunt with fatigueâlike heâd lived a lifetime in the past three monthsâbut none of that mattered.
Because his eyes were on you.
And then he ran.
You barely had time to react before he barreled into you, boots slamming against the floor, arms wrapping around you in a grip so tight it stole the breath from your lungs. His body collided with yours and you stumbled back a step, arms coming up around his shoulders like muscle memory.
âIâve got you, Iâve got you, Iâve got youââ he whispered into your neck, his voice cracking. His hands were everywhereâyour waist, your back, your hairâfrantic and tender.
You curled your fingers into the rough fabric of his jacket, fisting the front of it. He smelled like dirt and ash, but beneath it, he still smelled like home. You closed your eyes and breathed him in like oxygen.
âI made sure Jamie was napping,â you murmured, âWanted to have you all to myself first.â
Bucky pulled back just enough to look at you. He cupped your face in both hands, gently brushing your cheekbones with his thumbs, as if you were something precious and fragile.
âYou did?â he chuckled playfully.
You nodded, eyes wet.Â
âSweetheartâŠâ His breath hitched. âGod, I missed you. So much.â
You pressed your lips to his in a kissâ and there was no rush, no frantic edgeâ just pure love, poured from the cracks in your heart into hisYou melted into him, every part of you screaming finally.
âI donât care what Val says,â he whispered against your lips. âNo more long missions. I donât care if I have to clean the Tower bathrooms with a toothbrushâ the longest Iâll ever go without you is a weekend. Thatâs it.â
You smiled through your tears, resting your forehead against his.
â
Later, once the team greeted him for a debrief and he got checked up in the medical bay, Bucky walked through the corridor to the nursery, your hand in his. You stopped just outside the door, letting him step in first.
The glow of the nightlight spilled across the room like moonlight, Jamie was fast asleep in his crib, one tiny hand curled near his cheek.
Bucky stood in the doorway.
For a long time, he didnât speak. He just stared, glassy-eyed.
âHeâs so bigâŠâ Bucky whispered, voice breaking. His metal hand tightened around yours just slightly. âI mean, I knew he would growâbutâŠâ
âHe did,â you said, wrapping your arms around his waist. âHe grew up so much.â
Bucky leaned down, resting his chin atop your head, eyes never leaving his son.
You nodded, pressing your cheek against his jacket. âHe looks more like you now.â
Bucky gave a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, still watching Jamieâs chest rise and fall. âI wanna hold him so bad,â Bucky said. âBut I should shower. Get the dirt off me before I touch either of my babies.â
âHeâll be up in the morning. Heâs become a morning person, like his dad,â you whispered, âBut I donât mind the dirt.â
Bucky finally turned, pulling you into his arms again, a bit more relaxed now. âDonât you, now?â he chuckled, dropping a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw.
You grinned, fingers curling into his jacket as he leaned in closer.
âI missed this,â he said, lips brushing the shell of your ear now. âMissed you in our bed. Missed the sounds you make. Missed waking up with you. Missed touching youâloving you.â
Your breath caught as his hands traced your sides. âBuckyââ you whispered, heart racing.
âLet me love my girl,â he said, eyes burning into yours. âLet me come home to you properly.â
You nodded.
He took your hand in his, and with one last glance toward the crib before closing the door as he led you to your shared tower bedroom.
â
The hum of the baby monitor filled the bedroom â until it didnât. You heard a faint rustle, the scrunch of fabric, and a sleepy little sigh followed by the unmistakable pat-pat of tiny hands against the crib mattress.
You stirred beneath the blanket, blinking awake. âHeâs up,â you whispered, barely a breath.
But Bucky, excited to finally see his son, was already halfway across the room.
You sat up as he disappeared into the hallway as you followed behind watching him pause outside the nursery door.
He reached for the handle and then he opened the door.
The morning light spilled across the floor, filtering in through the curtains, and thereâright where you'd left himâwas Jamie. Blinking drowsily, legs kicking beneath, his cheeks still warm.
âHey, buddy,â he said gently, crouching down beside the crib. His voice was rough, quietâlike reverence wrapped in gravel. âThereâs my boy.â
Jamie blinked once before a high-pitched squeal erupted from his little body, his whole face scrunching into a gummy, delighted grin. He kicked hard, flailing his arms like he might fly right out of the crib.
Bucky let out a laugh that sounded half a choke, half a sob. âYou remember me, huh?â he whispered, almost amazed.
He scooped Jamie up with both arms, holding him against his chest like he was made of spun sugar.
You leaned against the doorframe, a smile tugging at your lips. âOf course he did.âÂ
Bucky pressed a kiss to Jamieâs hair and shut his eyes. âGod, heâs heavier,â he said.
Jamie babbled something unintelligible, tugging at Buckyâs collar like he had a lot to catch up on and no words to say it. Â
The three of you curled up on the couch not long afterâJamie nestled in Buckyâs lap, clutching his bottle with sleepy fingers while Bucky held him close, murmuring nonsense. Jamie giggled, tugged gently at his hair, and babbled like they were resuming a conversation that had never ended.
You sat beside them, then you pulled out your phone.
âHere,â you said, shifting closer until your thigh brushed his. âYou missed a few things. I saved everything.â
Bucky glanced at the screen as you pulled up the first video.
It was Jamie crawling. Wobbly and determined, launching himself forward from the rug to the couch as you cheered and Yelena laughed in the background.
Buckyâs breath caught. âLook at him go,â he whispered, brushing Jamieâs hair back. He kissed his sonâs temple.
You smiled and swiped to the next.
This one was Jamie sitting up all by himself, beaming proudly, clearly so proud of himself.
Buckyâs smile was gentler this time.
Clip after clip, moment after momentâJamie waving at Bob for the first time, babbling nonsense as Alexei tried to teach him the Russian word for âbananaâ â These were three months worth of milestones, one after another.
You were too busy watching the screen to see the way Buckyâs teeth clenched, the way his metal hand flexed against his thigh.
âAnd here,â you said, âthis was last week. He figured out how to hold the bottle himself.â
You tapped the video: Jamie lying on a blanket, gripping his little bottle with both hands, gurgling contentedly between sips. It was three days ago.
âThatâs⊠thatâs great,â he whispered, barely audible.
You turned your head to look at him, resting your hand on his thigh. âYou okay?â
He met your eyes with a sad smile. âYeah,â he said. âIâm good, sweetheart. Just⊠taking it all in.â
You nodded, comforted by the answer, and turned back to the next video..
You didnât see the way his eyes lingered on the screen long afterwards, the way his hands tightened around Jamieâs.Â
He kissed Jamieâs cheek again.
Because while you saw memories, Bucky only saw his absence from an entire chapter of his sonâs life that he could never get back. And even as Jamie cooed against him, Bucky couldnât help but thinkâ
I shouldâve been there.
â
That night, sometime past 2 a.m., the baby monitor crackled to lifeâa fizz of static followed by the most heartbreaking cry.
You stirred beneath the covers, still half-asleep, but before you could even lift your head, Bucky was already sitting up, one hand brushing your thigh.
âI got this, honey,â he reassured, pressing a kiss to your temple. âGo back to sleep.â
You gave a groggy hum of thank you and rolled over, already sinking back into the mattress.
Bucky moved down the hallway and into the nursery, easing the door open.Â
Jamie was wriggling in his crib, face red and scrunched, little fists clenched tight as he let out another frustrated cryâ the particular pitch that could only mean one thing.
âHey, hey, alright, buddy,â Bucky soothed, already reaching in. âYou mad about the diaper again? I get it. Nobody likes soggy pants.â
He changed him on the tableâ hesitant at first, but it came back to him like muscle memory. Tape, wipe, fresh diaper, blanket with the faded cartoon starsâ he one Jamie always settled best in.
âThere we go,â Bucky whispered, swaddling him up with care. âBetter?â
Jamie hiccupped, then let out a sleepy little sigh. His eyes drooped.
But neither Jamie nor Bucky headed straight back to bedâ it was as if they were both awake and in this together now..
So, he drifted into the Watchtowerâs common room, where the city lights bled in through the windows and walked around the kitchen tower. He reached and pointed to the fridge, most likely for a bottle.
âYou hungry, too, huh?â he asked. He quickly warmed up the bottle before slipping it gently into Jamieâs hands.
And Jamie⊠gripped it. He adjusted it and found the rubber nipple on his own like it was second nature.
Bucky didnât help anymore, he didnât have to. Jamie had it handled.
Tears pricked his eyes as he sank into the couch.
âYouâre so good at that now,â he whispered, voice cracking as he brushed a hand over Jamieâs brown curls. âYou donât even need me to help.â
Jamie drank peacefully, his little hand patting absently at Buckyâs chest.
âI shouldâve been here for that,â Bucky continued. âShouldâve helped you figure it out. And now I come back, and youâve already moved past it.â
He looked away, wiping at his face, âWhat kind of dad misses that?â
âSomeone who is trying,â came a gravelly voice behind him.
Bucky twisted to look behind him.
Alexei stood in the doorway, travel-worn, duffel bag still slung over his shoulder, just coming home from a mission. He smelled like pavement and engine grease, and he was careful not to get too close to little Jamie.
âHey there, malenâkiy medvezhonok,â he greeted Jamie. Then, with a smirk, he said, âAnd bolâshoy medved,â he added, nodding to Bucky with dry amusementâ his long-standing nickname for Buckyâs bear-like devotion to fatherhood.
Jamie made a sleepy gurgle and blinked up at him, unimpressed.
Bucky sighed. âHe figured out the bottle on his own.â
Alexei nodded, stepping inside and collapsing into the nearby armchair with a grunt. âBabies do that.â he said, dropping his bag, âBut I think my girls skipped it and went straight for knives.â
Bucky huffed a chuckle, but it faded quickly.
âBe honest with me, Alexei.â
Alexei raised a brow. âAlways.â
âAm I a failure of a father?â
Alexei blinked, frowning like Bucky had asked whether water was optional for survival.
âWhat? No.â
âI missed him crawling, sitting up. All the big firsts. I keep telling her Iâm fine, that Iâm proud, but Iâm already behind and heâs not even one. How do I even begin to catch up?â
Alexei sat on an armchair. Then he leaned back, stretching his legs with a groan. âYou want truth?â
Bucky nodded.
âYou are not failure. You are a man who had to leave but came back.â He gestured vaguely. âThat alone makes you better than ninety-nine percent of men Iâve knownâincluding my own father. It makes you better than me for most of Natasha and Yelenaâs lives.â
Bucky frowned. âButââ
âListen to me.â Alexei held up a hand, interrupting him. âI used to think I could fix everything with fists. I thought if I hit enough bad guys, it made me good by default. But then.... I stayâ and Yelena likes me better now. We need to keep coming back, even when you feel like you donât deserve it.â
He paused, then added, âJohn âhe is not perfect. He missed much of his childâs early life. Now he gets weekend and playground visits. But he shows up. He tries. Do you think he is bad father?â
âNo,â Bucky admitted, remembering when Johnâs kid got a tour of the tower, giggly and happy, âNot anymore.â
âExactly,â Alexei said, âAnd John left for a year. You? You are holding your son and feeling bad about a bottle.â
Bucky looked down. Jamie was dozing now, the bottle half-full, his hand curled in the fabric of his shirt.
âYou think heâll forgive me?â Bucky asked.
Alexei snorted. âHe is baby. He will forgive you before breakfast.â
That drew a real laugh from Bucky. He buried his nose in Jamieâs hair and closed his eyes.
âThanks,â he said.
Alexei stood with a stretch. âI go find food. Or shower. Or both. In whatever order I hit first.â He gave Jamie a parting glance. âGood baby. Sleeps better than little Yelena.â
And with that, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving Bucky and Jamie alone again.
â
The light of morning spilled across the Watchtowerâs windows. The city below hummedâcars drifting like whispers on distant roads, the sound of turbines blending into birdsong. Inside, the common room was warm and quiet.
You sat curled on the long couch, a travel bag at your feet and Jamie balanced in your lap, his tiny body still warm from sleep. He wore his little bear-print onesie, his cheeks smudged pink, fingers lazily wrapped around the last bit of his morning bottle. He blinked sleepily up at you, eyelashes fluttering like they were too heavy.
It was your last morning at the Tower, Bucky had just finished debriefing everyone he needed to and doing all the official paperwork. Youâd be back often, of courseâvisits, Buckyâs (hopefully shorter) missions, and dinners with the teamâbut today, you were finally going home. Back to your own kitchen, your backyard, to your birdfeeder. Back to your quiet street and your swing and the scent of fresh coffee in your own kitchen. Back to your bed that no longer felt too big, because Bucky was coming with you.
Heâd slipped out earlier, promising to pack up your things while you focused on Jamie. âLet me do something useful, sweets,â heâd said, pressing a kiss to your temple. He was still carrying this guilt in small waysâ over-packing the diaper bag, refolding clothes youâd already folded, checking three times that Jamie had socks on.
And you let him.
Because this was how he stitched himself back into your life.
Jamie finished the bottle and gave a small, sleepy grunt. Then he kicked around, accidentally knocking your empty breakfast plate from the coffee table.Â
CLACK!
It clattered to the ground with an echo that felt so much louder than it should have been.
Jamie flinched.
His whole body jolted as his eyes went wide, mouth pulling down hard. And thenâ like a dam cracking openâ the cries beganâ the kind that came with a startled fear only babies felt, when they didnât understand the world enough to explain it.
âOh, babyâno, no, itâs okay,â you whispered, immediately rocking him. âJust a sound, itâs alright. Just a noise. Mamaâs got youâshhhâŠâ
But he was inconsolable. His tiny fists curled tight against your collarbone, whole face turning red as he wailed.
That was the moment the door slid open.
Bucky stepped into the room, a suitcase in one hand and a diaper bag slung over one shoulder, brow furrowed from some conversation heâd just had with John on the comms. âHey, I found the monitor and that book you alwaysâohââ
He froze, watching you frantically try to calm little Jamie down
âWhat happened?â he asked quickly, dropping the bag before you could answer.
âHe scared himself,â you explained. âHe knocked the plate off the table and made a loud noise.â
You didnât need to explain more. He was already reaching.
âCome here,â Bucky said, his voice a particular tenderness he reserved only for you and Jamie. âCome to Daddy. Daddyâs got you now.â
You passed Jamie over, and Bucky drew him in tightâ one hand cradling the back of Jamieâs head, the other rubbing soothing circles across his little spine. His voice dropped to a hush. âShhh⊠Itâs alright now. Just a dumb plate, huh? Didnât mean to scare you. Weâll kick its ass later, huh?â he said, and you playfully slapped his shoulder for saying a bad word. âPlates are overrated anyway.â
Jamieâs cries had quieted into little hiccups, no longer frantic. He clung to Buckyâs shirt, burrowed in under his chin like.
And then it came in his small, raspy voice â...Dada.â
Bucky stopped moving. You blinked.
And then, slowly, Bucky pulled back just enough to look at Jamieâs face. âWhat⊠What did you say?â he whispered in disbelief.
Jamie blinked up at him as a chubby hand reached up and curled into Buckyâs beard.
âDada,â he said again, clearer now. Â
Buckyâs knees almost buckled.
His mouth opened, but no words came out at first.
âIs thisâhas he...?â he asked, barely turning his head toward you.
You were already nodding, tears burning in your own eyes. âIt is,â you whispered, kissing Jamieâs forehead. âThatâs his first word.â
Bucky let out a stunned laugh, his voice cracking. âThatâs me. Thatâs me, Jamie. Iâm your Dada.â
He kissed the top of Jamieâs head over and over again, before kissing youâ gentle and sweet.Â
Jamie giggled at the sight of his parents showing affection to each other, delighted with himself, babbling nonsense now and again, but punctuating it with another firm, proud âDada.â
You smiled, burying your face in Buckyâs shoulder.
All those nights youâd shown Jamie picture after picture of his fatherâtelling him over and over, âThatâs your Daddy. Heâs coming home.â All those times youâd held your breath hoping Jamie wouldnât forget him⊠It had all paid off.
Bucky kissed your forehead without even looking, still half in shock, like he couldnât believe this little boyâthis squishy miracleâwas his. And yours.
And that his very first word had been Dada.
Jamie wiggled and tucked his head beneath Buckyâs chin, pressing close with a little hum of contentment. âDada,â Jamie said again, sleepily this time.Â
Bucky leaned down and whispered, âThatâs me, buddy.â
i just wanna say thank you to Sebastian Stan for giving us this because now people keep saying that this is what Lee Bodecker looks under that sheriff uniform and oh fuck, now i can't stop thinking about it.
In love with Ushiđ @a-book-lover-things - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
