Sade Olutola
blake kathryn
i don't do bad sauce passes
cherry valley forever
Andulka
will byers stan first human second
tannertan36
Discoholic 🪩
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
NASA
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Mike Driver
Janaina Medeiros
trying on a metaphor
@theartofmadeline
DEAR READER
titsay
dirt enthusiast
noise dept.
Three Goblin Art
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@betterleftonice
Also Known As, this blog is moving, being absorbed, eaten, merged, what have you.
I have broken down and gotten a multimuse @thetenthman. I'm going to be archiving all these sideblogs under it! Go have a follow if you still want to chill. Please read new rules! Thank you!
SEBASTIAN STAN as BUCKY BARNES THUNDERBOLTS*
bites you bites you bites you bites you. bites you a little too hard. kisses that spot better. bites you bites you bites you bites you bites you
@shesnipes
“Have I mentioned I love you?” He breathed around a low laugh, delighted at her main tip, nodding as he tried not to think about the placement of his feet and the warm rush of the water, and the closeness of their proximity.
“So I’ll just think about you, then?” He asked, smile tugging at his lips as he, too, let his gaze travel. The moment he’d met her, he’d wondered what she’d look like naked. She was … stunning was putting it lightly and while he liked to think he was better than that, he wasn’t. Wasn’t above wondering how her skin would flush, how far it would go, what each curve and line of her could be.
The sad thing, though, was as he got to know her more, as he looked more, as he learned who she was - brilliant, funny, deadly - somehow it made her even more beautiful.
Somehow it made him stop looking elsewhere.
A private pain he’d expected to struggle with always.
Except.
There she was.
❝You may have mentioned it once or twice,❞ she exhaled a soft laugh, offering a half-shrug in response, ❝But I wouldn't mind hearing it again.❞ Amity paused then, as if considering her next words carefully, before she flashed him that bright smile, ❝And maybe another few times after that? You know... Just for good measure.❞
And when he actually did end up saying those three words once again a moment later, her smile just grew that much wider. ❝Exactly like that! But also... I'm going to need to hear it at least two more times, please and thank you.❞
This was beginning to be a thing with them.
A habit.
And really it was one he wished that they’d at least take a break from and he swore, swore that the next time they’d take their time, that he’d savor every piece of her.
Every moment.
A grunt of disapproval sounded sharp in the back of Bucky’s throat. Yes, theoretically, he understood that she was sweaty and messy and getting clean was a priority. He knew she’d be more comfortable that way. And yet.
Yet he couldn’t help but to rock against her, to drag the hard length of himself against her thigh.
He really, really didn’t want her to go.
But he understood.
So he just groaned as he rolled off her, brow furrowing in frustration as she walked away. A furrow that only got deeper as she undressed. Discontent increasing at each shed piece of clothing.
It was the smirk that made him groan again, though, throwing a pillow over his face.
Of course he wanted to follow her. To join her.
And he would.
It was only kind to give her a head start. Only polite. Because if it were up to him he’d have chased her down the hall, scooped her up into his arms, and, well, delayed them getting to the shower.
So he counted.
Just for a moment.
Amity had already managed to finish soaping herself up, and was in the process of rinsing the last of the suds off completely when she heard the curtain pull back.
Lifting her head immediately, she took a moment to just stare at him.
It wasn't like this was the first time she'd seen him naked. In all the years they'd been friends... More importantly, all the years they'd lived together? Well, it didn't matter how hard they'd tried to avoid it happening, because it had... More than once.
But before, it had been the sight of a flash of skin and a hurried apology muttered in the process of looking away. Now, she could stop and appreciate him properly without even the slightest whisper of an apology.
Because he was hers.
All hers.
And he loved her.
Had just admitted he wanted to marry her!
Head tilting to the side, the bright blue of her gaze positively dragged. Every single inch of his toned physique setting her mouth to watering.
With a quiet hum in question, her brows raised at his statement.
It only took her approximately half a second for the meaning behind the words to register... And when it did, she opened her mouth in a quiet 'Oh.'
❝Well, I think it's kind of a 'don't think too much about it or it'll get more complicated than it needs to be' sort of situation,❞ she responded, moving to better close the distance between them.
❝I can give you some pointers if you want? Or you can just — ❞
Her breath caught in her throat as he thumbed at her nipple, prompting her to lean up onto the tips of her toes, ❝ — Keep touching me...❞
One hand reached up to thread into the hair at the nape of his neck, giving a gentle tug to urge him down close enough that she could press a chaste, single kiss to his lips. The other lifted to rest at the firm, perfect line of his jaw, thumb stroking softly along his cheek, ❝It's also entirely okay if you don't want to do this with me, in here,❞ she clarified, ❝Just say the word, and we can hop right out and head somewhere else... Like your bed.❞
“Have I mentioned I love you?” He breathed around a low laugh, delighted at her main tip, nodding as he tried not to think about the placement of his feet and the warm rush of the water, and the closeness of their proximity.
“So I’ll just think about you, then?” He asked, smile tugging at his lips as he, too, let his gaze travel. The moment he’d met her, he’d wondered what she’d look like naked. She was … stunning was putting it lightly and while he liked to think he was better than that, he wasn’t. Wasn’t above wondering how her skin would flush, how far it would go, what each curve and line of her could be.
The sad thing, though, was as he got to know her more, as he looked more, as he learned who she was - brilliant, funny, deadly - somehow it made her even more beautiful.
Somehow it made him stop looking elsewhere.
A private pain he’d expected to struggle with always.
Except.
There she was.
Amity knew it wasn't the same, she knew the things she had done were merely a drop in the bucket comparatively. But that wasn't what she'd been trying to say, that wasn't the point she'd been attempting to make. The point was that she loved him, that she was prepared to put him back together whenever he needed her to. The point was that she wasn't going anywhere.
But when he shifted the topic, she didn't push.
❝Oh I wasn't getting annoyed at you for holding back your feelings, or for saying you wanted to marry me,❞ the blonde responded, one brow raised at him as her lips quirked up in amusement, ❝My annoyance was entirely because you said you didn't think you had a shot... Just wanted to clarify.❞
She gave a sharp inhale as his teeth nipped at her lower lip, a pleased hum sounding in her throat as he called her his girl.
Oh fuck, she really, really liked the sound of that.
No... Not liked.
Loved.
❝Yeah, and your girl is telling you that whenever you do decide to ask? That she will say yes.❞ And there wasn't a hint of hesitation in her answer.
Reaching one hand to slip into the hair at the nape of his neck, the other trailed softly along the line of his jaw, ❝You know it's not just you that feels that way... right?❞ She made a point to meet his gaze before continuing, ❝You are sooo stuck with me, Barnes.❞
A small pause and a flash of that blinding smile, ❝Forever.❞
The second his mouth was on hers again though, she crumbled.
Leaning up, lips eagerly parting to allow his tongue, she tightened her grip on his hair and groaned. She wanted very much to just lose herself in the perfect press of his lips, but when he pulled away to speak, she couldn't help the soft laugh that poured forth, ❝You mean you don't want to propose to me while you're rock hard?❞
A rhetorical question.
❝Okay, okay, I would like to make it known, that you will never hear me complaining about you pinning me to the bed, but...❞ this is where she began to wriggle her way out from beneath him, ❝I desperately need a shower, I'm so sorry.❞
And she was sorry, very much so.
Because she really didn't want to be apart from him at all... But she was becoming acutely aware of how horribly sweaty she was, and considering that her plans for the foreseeable future were to be wrapped around him, curled up in his arms?
Yeah, she needed a shower.
As she slid off the bed, she let her fingers drag down the line of his back, ❝I'll be really quick, like, 5 minutes?❞
She tugged her sports bra up and over her head, letting it fall to his bedroom floor, then moving to her bottoms, thumbs hooking into the waistband of both her underwear and shorts before she pushed them down her thighs and stepped out of them.
Chancing a glance at him over her shoulder, she offered him a cheeky smirk, ❝Unless you want to come keep me company?❞
She didn't wait for his answer.
Heading down the hallway and into the bathroom, she pulled the shower curtain aside, leaning to turn the taps on before stepping into the tub, and under the hot spray of the water.
A small, contented sigh passed from her lips as she tilted her head back into the stream, slender fingers slipping through her long, damp locks before she moved to grab her loofah. Pouring some of her bodywash onto it, she quickly began lathering herself up, the pleasant scent of strawberry lemonade swiftly filling up the steamy bathroom.
She hoped he would join her, was almost positive that he would, but just in case he decided not to, she didn't want to keep him waiting.
A grunt of disapproval sounded sharp in the back of Bucky’s throat. Yes, theoretically, he understood that she was sweaty and messy and getting clean was a priority. He knew she’d be more comfortable that way. And yet.
Yet he couldn’t help but to rock against her, to drag the hard length of himself against her thigh.
He really, really didn’t want her to go.
But he understood.
So he just groaned as he rolled off her, brow furrowing in frustration as she walked away. A furrow that only got deeper as she undressed. Discontent increasing at each shed piece of clothing.
It was the smirk that made him groan again, though, throwing a pillow over his face.
Of course he wanted to follow her. To join her.
And he would.
It was only kind to give her a head start. Only polite. Because if it were up to him he’d have chased her down the hall, scooped her up into his arms, and, well, delayed them getting to the shower.
So he counted.
Just for a moment.
itching to do a few more threads with barnes. like for some plotting. im down for like, oh, let’s say two threads.
1/2 claimed.
Bucky Barnes + motorcycles
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“Hey.” The word slipped out of him, fell from between his lips, eased into the space between them like a breeze. Joy had consumed him, filled his chest, made him ache while also making him whole.
Her laugh, soft, stilted, pressed against his skin.
Her eyes, bright, blue, wide and open and honest.
Happy, too. She was happy, too. Happy and fixed on him.
Until she wasn’t.
Until tears welled and spilled and as they rolled down her cheeks, and suddenly, instantly worry ate at Bucky, consumed him.
“Hey,” he said again, leaning up on his elbows as he chased each drop with his thumbs, as he bent to kiss her where they’d been, the salt of them lingering oh so slightly on his lips.
“Hey, none of that now.” He admonished, feeling his own emotion form, feeling it make him feel too much, feeling all those things come oh so close to the surface.
It wasn’t like he’d never seen her cry before. They’d been friends for years. Years and years. This was hardly the first time he’d wiped her tears.
But this, this was between them, and it was bigger than life but also oh so tangible and he could feel the prick at the back of his nose.
He wouldn’t, though. He shook his head and cleared his throat, swallowing roughly.
“You too?” He laughed, only with the threat of sogginess, swallowing again as he saw himself there, on that hotel bed writing out I love you and then erasing it again and again. “I mean I’ve known,” he sighed as she cupped his cheeks, as she held him, and there was no safer place in the universe for him to be than there, held in those tiny hands. “I’ve known forever. But I knew last night…” he shrugged.
And then.
And then she called him that.
It wasn’t like she didn’t have access to that name. All of them knew it. It was his, after all, part of who he was.
But in that moment, holding her, held by her, confessing their love to one another.
He’d never really thought he’d have the joy, the possibility of just being James, ever again. That was a few lifetimes and a lot of innocence ago.
And for her to love him in spite of all those things. For her to know who he was, who he’d been, what he’d done, and to still see James?
The prickle pricked more. He scrunched his nose to stop it, swallowed again and again to hold it back.
As she spoke of their friendship.
As she asked him…
“If I’ll have you?” Bucky croaked, “If I’ll have you?” He asked, again, the well getting too deep, the tide too high, a single tear escaping as it rioted down the line of his nose. “You know what I am,” his voice broke around each word. “What I have been,” each swallow was rougher and he wanted to look away, to hide, but he could be unflinching with her. “What I still am, what I will always be. And you ask if I’ll have you?”
Bucky shook his head, shook his head and looked wild and lost as his gaze traced her features, as he looked to her, connected and tangled as they were.
“Hell, Eavenson,” he laughed, turning to wipe his nose against his right bicep. “If I had a ring and any shot, I’d be begging you to marry me.” He sighed. “If I’ll have you…” he kissed her quick and hard and chaste. “I’m just happy you’ll deal with any part of me.”
Out of the two of them, Amity was definitely the one more likely to let her emotions get the better of her.
Sad, angry, happy, it didn't matter... Because whenever those feelings began to rise up, once they pushed past the walls she'd so carefully constructed, they tended to pour forth in the form of tears. Regardless of if she wanted them to or not.
But Bucky had never hesitated to wipe them away. Not once.
And as his thumbs brushed at her tears then, as his lips pressed kisses where they'd fallen, Amity couldn't help the damp laugh that bubbled forth, ❝Good tears! Good tears, I promise!❞
She honestly hadn't meant to cry.
It was just that she had thought about this exact moment... Had imagined it happening So. Many. Times.
And not one of those times... Not a single one of them had ever begun to even come close to touching the level of happiness she felt right now.
So she cried.
What she hadn't expected though, was for him to cry too.
❝I do,❞ she nodded, her voice solemn but full of a warm sincerity, ❝I do know... And of course I ask.❞
Staring up at him through wet lashes, she gave him a soft smile, ❝I ask because you know what I am, and you know what I have been too...❞
He knew better than anyone, and yet he still saw the real Amity beneath it all. Still loved her. So why would that ever be any different for her?
The answer to that was easy: It wouldn't.
Her fingers flexed gently against his face, ready to wipe that single tear away. But before she had a chance to do it herself, he was wiping it away against his right bicep. A small huff escaped her in feigned exasperation, ❝Damnit Barnes, how many times have you wiped away my tears? And finally, I have the opportunity to return the favor and you go and wipe it away on your shirt?❞ But her tone was soft, and full of affection... It was clear she was anything but upset with him.
But what he said next, however, had her snapping immediately to attention, blue eyes almost comically wide in shock.
What?!
The tiny blonde parted her lips to try and speak, but absolutely no words were coming to her.
None.
So she shut her mouth again.
He kissed her quick, hard, and when he pulled back, she decided to try another attempt at making words happen. ❝Hang the fuck on...❞ she choked out.
Okay, so far the words were cooperating.
❝If you had a ring... And any shot...❞ she parroted back to him, almost as if she may have misheard him. ❝What the hell do you mean if you had any shot?❞
She looked up at him incredulously, lips pursed in an indignant line. How the fuck had he just managed to be so incredibly disparaging, and yet also manage to bring up wanting to marry her in the same damn sentence?!
Her dark brows knit together as she pushed herself to lean up onto her elbows, ❝Bucky fucking Barnes, you asshole! You don't think you have a shot?!❞
Okay, so maybe she was taking this a bit too seriously. But in all fairness, he had just said he wanted to marry her. So sue her for overreacting just a little... Especially when he seemed to think there was any possibility at all of her saying no to him if he proposed.
She flopped back onto the mattress, long locks laying about her head in a mussed blonde halo, and pushed her lower lip out into an overdramatic pout, ❝You can't just say that to a girl and expect her to ignore it!❞
“It’s not the same.” And, to Bucky, it wasn’t. She would never, in what she, too, had done, would never ever come close to what he had been. A hundred years. A handful of lifetimes. Countless lives. Except for the fact that they all had been counted. That each had been remembered. Everyone a piece removed from his soul.
Until her.
Until she patched him back together. Until she filled him back up. Until the sunlight that had just been there, had just been her, smiling as she entered the room, gave him purpose and reason and happiness.
It wasn’t the same, and he was about to argue, about to press, to try and explain - even though he knew she would fight back, she wouldn’t let him fall down that hole, that she would fight him and drag him back and fuck that was why he loved her too. He was going to fight.
He didn’t, though. Instead he focused on other safer things.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said with a sniff, scrunching up his face.
It was a tear to begin with. Just one.
But it was better observed but not mentioned.
Not that any of that mattered, soon. Not that it would be remembered, later (except by him, always by him, he would never forget this moment).
Her response to his stream of consciousness - no, that was a lie. It wasn’t a slip of the tongue, he’d meant it. He felt that way. Love for him was unique, hard to find, something that lasted.
Forever.
So loving someone and marriage didn’t seem too far apart in his brain. It wasn’t like they didn’t know one another.
But her response had him wincing a little bit, feeling badly, not at all certain where this might go.
“Hey,” he said, only a little defensive, “it isn’t like I’m the only one that’s been holding back feelings over here, plus, I mean, people don’t think about marriage the way we used to, and I don’t want to spring a lot on you, it’s just that, well, it isn’t like I run around telling people I fucking love them.”
He paused, leaning forward as she propped herself up. “Just you, doll.”
She flopped and he laughed, the nervousness, the explanation that wasn’t was suddenly gone and banished as that brightness filled him again. “But I didn’t just say it to a girl, did I?” He asked as that laughter faded, as he bent to nip at that pout. “I told my girl how I feel. And I feel like, for me, this is forever.”
Sighing, he traced her face with his fingers, before he was kissing her again, tongue pleading against the seam of her lips before she bloomed beneath him, opening up for him like she always did, eager and hungry and meeting him where he was.
“Not that I’d ask like this,” he said finally, voice husky for a much more pleasurable reason than before. “Not when I’m pretty sure you can feel how hard I am and I’m pinning you to the bed. But I think I want to, and if you want that, I think, know, it’s something we should do.”
@shesnipes
They'd kissed before. Back then. Back when they'd both felt the spark that was there and thought they might do something about it.
They'd kissed last night. Hungry. Fierce. Desperate.
He'd been so grateful all those hours ago, ecstatic at the press of her lips, the taste of her mouth, the feeling of being inside of her and connected to her all at once, and he wanted more and more and more.
But Bucky didn't actually expect that he'd get it. He didn't think he'd have the chance to smile against her lips as she met him where he was, as she kissed him just as passionately as he was kissing her.
They were well matched. He thought of it often, always. Thought that they made a good pair. And he'd thought, this time in the fully past tense, that being her best friend and her teammate had been enough of that.
Until now.
Until that moment.
Because the weight of her was as delicious as the noise that sounded in her throat, as delicious as the blown-wide darkness of her pupils.
She teased and he grinned, grinned wide, feeling both happy and safe and wanting nothing more than to just remain there with her, to be there with her.
To say those three words.
The back of his mind raced as she touched him, as she cupped his jaw, and he touched her back, freeing her hair from its ponytail with a deft move, watching it spill around her shoulders. He was distracted for a moment at the sight of her, by the fall of blonde waves, even as sweaty and mussed as they were.
He loved it.
Loved her.
Wanted to say it.
Was going to say it.
Except.
His eyes widened impossibly large as she said it, as she said it first, as she said it again, naming him fully like it was some sort of ritual and it was, it was and she'd beaten him to it and "Fuck!"
With a sharp tsk he pressed his palm into her lips, holding any other admissions back.
"Why'd you go and do that?" He all but whined, brow furrowing and jaw set.
"I have spent every minute since sometime last night coming up with the best way to tell you that I love you and you beat me to it Eavenson?" He sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes, but the smile in him couldn't be restrained.
Neither could the way he rolled them both over, cradling her head softly, the whole move fast but gentle until she was on her back and he was between her legs as he stared down at her.
"I've been in love with you for a long, long time, Amity Ailith Eavenson," he all but whispered, dragging his fingertips around the shell of her ear before he cupped her cheek. "But I never imagined," his voice was thick, husky with emotion. "All these years," it was difficult to get the words out, no matter how many of them he had planned. "I don't deserve you," he said, voice reverent, as he bent to kiss her. "Thank you," he breathed against her lips, "thank you for loving me too."
Fuck!
Fuck?!
Amity blinked rather pointedly, staring down at Bucky with an entirely perplexed expression. Well that sure as shit wasn't the reaction she had been hoping for!
Had she really misjudged the situation so incredibly badly?
Her brows furrowed into a displeased frown as she opened her mouth to try and ask him for clarification. Because she'd really thought...
But then his palm pressed to her lips to silence her, and she had to fight the immediate urge to bite in retaliation. Her bratty nature warring with the very real frustration at the possibility that she had misread the signs.
She swore...
She had been so fucking sure...
But then he spoke, and every single one of her fears dissipated into nothing.
He loved her too...
He loved her too!
He'd just been annoyed that she'd beaten him to the punch!
A laugh bubbled forth against his palm, her eyes not daring to leave him for even a second. Because there was no way she was going to miss this... No way she was going to miss that beautiful smile, or the way it positively lit up his face.
God, she loved him.
And he was in love with her too!
That fact was really never, ever going to get old.
How long had she wanted desperately to tell him the true depths of her feelings? How many nights had she lain awake, wishing she was curled against his side, falling asleep in his arms? So, so many.
But now...
An excited kind of squeak sounded in her throat as he rolled them, the beaming smile swiftly returned to her face now that he had soothed her worries.
His hushed admission had her tilting her head to press her cheek further into his hand, her gaze still resting solely on him.
Only him.
Always.
Even as the tears began to well.
Good tears though.
Happy tears.
When he bent to kiss her, when his lips met hers, she tilted her head up to return it, the press of her lips soft but full of intention.
This kiss was different from the others.
It wasn't careful, or exploratory.
It wasn't hungry, or desperate.
It was love.
Pure and simple.
And as he thanked her, as his words brushed against her skin like some kind of prayer, she felt the tears finally start to spill slowly down her cheeks.
❝There were so many times I almost told you,❞ she murmured against his lips, ❝I even typed it out at one point last night? But I didn't... Didn't want the first time I told you to be over text... You deserve so much better than that.❞
Her hands lifted to gently hold his face, ❝I have been in love with you for so fucking long James.❞
James.
Not Bucky.
Not Buck.
Not Barnes.
James.
Because this was serious, and she needed him to know just how much she meant Every. Single. Word.
❝You're my best friend,❞ her voice caught then, emotion forcing her to take a steadying breath, ❝And you will always be my best friend.❞
She brushed her thumbs over his cheek as she continued, ❝But I've wanted more with you since basically the beginning, and I'm so sorry it didn't work out the first time we tried. But I really want to try again. Please. If you'll have me?❞
“Hey.” The word slipped out of him, fell from between his lips, eased into the space between them like a breeze. Joy had consumed him, filled his chest, made him ache while also making him whole.
Her laugh, soft, stilted, pressed against his skin.
Her eyes, bright, blue, wide and open and honest.
Happy, too. She was happy, too. Happy and fixed on him.
Until she wasn’t.
Until tears welled and spilled and as they rolled down her cheeks, and suddenly, instantly worry ate at Bucky, consumed him.
“Hey,” he said again, leaning up on his elbows as he chased each drop with his thumbs, as he bent to kiss her where they’d been, the salt of them lingering oh so slightly on his lips.
“Hey, none of that now.” He admonished, feeling his own emotion form, feeling it make him feel too much, feeling all those things come oh so close to the surface.
It wasn’t like he’d never seen her cry before. They’d been friends for years. Years and years. This was hardly the first time he’d wiped her tears.
But this, this was between them, and it was bigger than life but also oh so tangible and he could feel the prick at the back of his nose.
He wouldn’t, though. He shook his head and cleared his throat, swallowing roughly.
“You too?” He laughed, only with the threat of sogginess, swallowing again as he saw himself there, on that hotel bed writing out I love you and then erasing it again and again. “I mean I’ve known,” he sighed as she cupped his cheeks, as she held him, and there was no safer place in the universe for him to be than there, held in those tiny hands. “I’ve known forever. But I knew last night…” he shrugged.
And then.
And then she called him that.
It wasn’t like she didn’t have access to that name. All of them knew it. It was his, after all, part of who he was.
But in that moment, holding her, held by her, confessing their love to one another.
He’d never really thought he’d have the joy, the possibility of just being James, ever again. That was a few lifetimes and a lot of innocence ago.
And for her to love him in spite of all those things. For her to know who he was, who he’d been, what he’d done, and to still see James?
The prickle pricked more. He scrunched his nose to stop it, swallowed again and again to hold it back.
As she spoke of their friendship.
As she asked him…
“If I’ll have you?” Bucky croaked, “If I’ll have you?” He asked, again, the well getting too deep, the tide too high, a single tear escaping as it rioted down the line of his nose. “You know what I am,” his voice broke around each word. “What I have been,” each swallow was rougher and he wanted to look away, to hide, but he could be unflinching with her. “What I still am, what I will always be. And you ask if I’ll have you?”
Bucky shook his head, shook his head and looked wild and lost as his gaze traced her features, as he looked to her, connected and tangled as they were.
“Hell, Eavenson,” he laughed, turning to wipe his nose against his right bicep. “If I had a ring and any shot, I’d be begging you to marry me.” He sighed. “If I’ll have you…” he kissed her quick and hard and chaste. “I’m just happy you’ll deal with any part of me.”
Thank you for loving me when I still tasted of heartache and war.
Nikita Gill
@betterleftonice .
OH MY GOD ITS *THEM*
As his hands dragged over those bits of her bare, sweaty skin...
As he peppered her with so many kisses...
As he greeted her...
As he called her pretty thing.
Every single bit of that nervous, impatient energy she'd been feeling since earlier that morning? It completely disappeared.
And in its place, an ever-strengthening resolve that she couldn't do this anymore. Couldn't pretend that she wasn't in love with him, with all of her heart and all of her soul. Couldn't pretend he wasn't the absolute center of her universe.
Was tired of trying to tell herself he wasn't the love of her fucking life...
Because he was.
Because there had never been any doubt about that.
But the doubt that had managed to creep in... The one that had managed to wrap about her and crush her into a state of inaction. Was the worry that that he couldn't possibly feel the same way. That he didn't love her too.
But then he kissed her.
Fully.
Deeply.
And oh fuck, that tongue.
And as she was leaning her weight down to better deepen the kiss, as her tongue slipped up to meet his, the realization really, truly hit her.
How had she been so fucking stupid?!
When he pulled away, breathless, and looking up at her with those stormy blue eyes, she almost laughed. How had she ever managed to convince herself he didn't love her? When he looked at her like that?
As his thumb dragged across her lips, she made a soft, pleased noise in her throat. ❝Convince you, huh?❞
The hand that had been threading through his hair shifted down, palm a firm but gentle press along his jaw as she made sure he was only focusing on her.
❝I love you.❞
A small exhale once those three words finally passed her lips.
❝I love you James Buchanan Barnes.❞
Please tell me you love me too.
They'd kissed before. Back then. Back when they'd both felt the spark that was there and thought they might do something about it.
They'd kissed last night. Hungry. Fierce. Desperate.
He'd been so grateful all those hours ago, ecstatic at the press of her lips, the taste of her mouth, the feeling of being inside of her and connected to her all at once, and he wanted more and more and more.
But Bucky didn't actually expect that he'd get it. He didn't think he'd have the chance to smile against her lips as she met him where he was, as she kissed him just as passionately as he was kissing her.
They were well matched. He thought of it often, always. Thought that they made a good pair. And he'd thought, this time in the fully past tense, that being her best friend and her teammate had been enough of that.
Until now.
Until that moment.
Because the weight of her was as delicious as the noise that sounded in her throat, as delicious as the blown-wide darkness of her pupils.
She teased and he grinned, grinned wide, feeling both happy and safe and wanting nothing more than to just remain there with her, to be there with her.
To say those three words.
The back of his mind raced as she touched him, as she cupped his jaw, and he touched her back, freeing her hair from its ponytail with a deft move, watching it spill around her shoulders. He was distracted for a moment at the sight of her, by the fall of blonde waves, even as sweaty and mussed as they were.
He loved it.
Loved her.
Wanted to say it.
Was going to say it.
Except.
His eyes widened impossibly large as she said it, as she said it first, as she said it again, naming him fully like it was some sort of ritual and it was, it was and she'd beaten him to it and "Fuck!"
With a sharp tsk he pressed his palm into her lips, holding any other admissions back.
"Why'd you go and do that?" He all but whined, brow furrowing and jaw set.
"I have spent every minute since sometime last night coming up with the best way to tell you that I love you and you beat me to it Eavenson?" He sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes, but the smile in him couldn't be restrained.
Neither could the way he rolled them both over, cradling her head softly, the whole move fast but gentle until she was on her back and he was between her legs as he stared down at her.
"I've been in love with you for a long, long time, Amity Ailith Eavenson," he all but whispered, dragging his fingertips around the shell of her ear before he cupped her cheek. "But I never imagined," his voice was thick, husky with emotion. "All these years," it was difficult to get the words out, no matter how many of them he had planned. "I don't deserve you," he said, voice reverent, as he bent to kiss her. "Thank you," he breathed against her lips, "thank you for loving me too."
actually interrupted makeout sessions are soooo delicious because there’s something so adorable about watching a guy try and hold a conversation afterwards, pretending he wasn’t just dry humping you into the couch between breathless and messy kisses
Amity heard the snap of his fingers and she laughed, loud and full of affection, ❝Excuse the fuck out of you, Barnes! Are you actually snapping your fingers at me?❞
That didn't stop her though.
Pausing just long enough to step out of her runners before continuing down the hallway, it was only another second before she was standing in the doorway to his room. And as soon as her gaze landed on him, an almost blindingly bright smile lit up those pretty features of hers.
He was sprawled out on his bed, hands behind his head, and he looked so good it should have been a sin.
So naturally, the tiny blonde's first response was to rush towards the bed, and jump directly onto him, tackling him further into the mattress.
Arms wrapping about him, squeezing him into a big hug, she buried her sweaty face into his neck, still beaming.
❝I was gonna shower after my run,❞ she began, pulling back enough to look down at him through dark lashes, ❝But now that you're back early, I'm afraid you're just gonna have to deal with it.❞
A small, half-hearted shrug showed she wasn't really all that concerned about it, her attention very clearly on much more important things.
Like her best friend.
And how devastatingly handsome he was.
And how, now that he was home, she was going to finally, actually tell him that she loved him.
Reaching a hand up to gently thread slender fingers through his dark strands, her expression shifted, smile softening into something solely for him, as bright blue eyes flickered over his face, ❝You glad to be home?❞
She laughed, and he did too. The sound for both of them was full of joy, bordering on relaxed. It felt natural, normal, even as his skin heated and his heart raced because she was right there, she was out in the hall.
Because she was coming to him.
"Pretty sure we decided you like that kinda thing," Bucky drawled, grinning at the door, grinning and waiting and counting each and every second and heartbeat until she was there.
It took only a handful of each but it still felt like it took to long and as she rounded the frame, as he could see her fully, every ounce of what if and worry and anything else that may not be named because Bucky had never been good at that kind of shit, it was gone.
Erased.
Because there was just her. There was just that beaming smile, that moment where she seemed to be the sun, the center of the fucking universe, there, for him.
Bucky, honestly, didn't think he'd ever felt so joyful in his entire life.
She hardly paused though. Amity was a woman of action (another thing added to the list of Things he Loved) and as she launched herself at Bucky, all he did was open his arms.
He'd never wanted to touch her so badly, to hold her, and as she snuggled down against him, he peppered her with kisses, hands running over every inch of exposed skin he could reach.
"Hey pretty thing," he purred as she looked down at him, craning up to interrupt each sentence with a kiss pressed against her lips.
He scoffed at her implication that somehow her just back from a run was a bad thing, that somehow her in any shape or form could ever be a bad thing. "Don't think this counts as dealing," he clarified, leaning up to kiss her properly, deeply, licking his way into her mouth as he pulled lightly on her ponytail.
And that, oh that was the best part of his day so far, being there with her, feeling the plushness of her lips, hearing the steady rapid strum of both their hearts.
He didn't pull away, didn't pull back until he was breathless, until he was content enough to look up at her, to get lost in those blue eyes as he dragged his thumb across her beautiful, beautiful lips.
"Glad to be home?" he laughed, shaking his head and studying her face. "Dunno," he drew the word out, shrugging lightly, "I haven't really decided yet. Guess you'll have to convince me."
