Hello, Q✮ here to bring nothing but filth and sex to everyone's October! I'll try to post 31 fics with Twisted Wonderland characters. I may be a little late due to this sudden idea because of the lack of smut for this fandom. I might be open for requests after Kinktober ends!
October 1 Begging✦Deuce Spade
October 2 Dry Humping✦Ace Trappola
October 3 Caught masturbating ✦Ruggie Bucchi
October 4 Praise Kink✦Riddle Rosehearts
October 5 Master Kink✦Malleus Draconia
October 6 Manhandling ✦Jade Leech
October 7 Eiffel Tower✦Silver Vanrouge & Riddle Rosehearts
Synopsis. Your milkshakes aren’t bringing all the boys bulls to the yard? You’ve never been properly fúcked through your heats? Don’t worry, there’s a new bull hybrid on the farm - Toji Fushiguro. And he promises to milk you dry.
Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!cow hybrid!reader, bull hybrid!Toji, farm AU, hybrids AU, farmer!Shiu cameo, RÚTS, feraI Toji, he’s kept away, face-sítting, oraI (fem rec.), spítting, fíngering, manhandIing, overstím, he’s BIG, making it fit, p sIapping, p talking, mean Toji, tummy buIges, Toji with níppIe píercings, heat-inducing, first times (for you), vírginíty Ioss, ROUGH s, tail-pulling, running from it, dúmbifícation, BRÉEDING, matíng presses, Iactation, drinking it, creampíes, cúmpIay, implied marathon, slight exhíbitionísm, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 12.8k
A/N. ALRIGHT ALRIIIIIIIGHT- inspired by this tiktok by the gorgeous @/v4mpyrf4e (an absolute sweetheart, tysm for letting me write this) and to all the babygirls who summoned me there <33
“Another bull hybrid?” Shiu growls into his phone, listening to the conversation crackling from the other end of the line. “A Japanese Shorthorn at that?”
Those things were huge…
With a hand on his hip, he casts a thoughtful look out into the horizon. The beaming, bustling, sun-baked farm; amongst the tufts of grass, Shiu’s hybrids grazed, occasionally flicking their ears in the direction of the conversation. All but one of them.
In the shade of the overlarge crimson barn, he could spot you dozing away in the shade—one of his proudest purebred cows.
“No- no, I hear you.” He listens to farmer Kusakabe’s begging, “It’s not a space issue, it’s just…” Shiu hesitates, throwing yet another glance your way. Still dazed. Still exhausted. “It’s just that one of my cow hybrids- yes, her- fine, my favorite, just finished her heat. And I was worried that introducing a new bull would…”
A few more pleas.
Until, ultimately, the farmer sighs.
“Fine…send this Toji over then.”
“Oh, thank fuck! You have no idea how much I appreciate it, man.” Kusakabe bellows in celebration, and Shiu’s forced to lean his head away from the speaker if ever he valued his ear drums.
Atsuya Kusakabe was a farmer specializing in hybrids just like Shiu was, though his friend had taken it a step further and raised only bulls on his farm. Though he really did reconsider this friendship when the other was trying to pawn off one of his biggest bulls on him for a few days.
In his bemused wonderment at his friend, Shiu almost doesn’t register the soft nudge of something against his open palm. Something warm, something silky. He snaps his head down- and a sudden smile spreads across his face as he realizes just who it was.
You’d wandered off from your cosy lil’ corner, and cuddled up to him leisurely.
“Hey there, girlie.” Shiu whispers, reaching his fingers up to scratch behind your ecstatic ears. You weren’t quite the social hybrid, even amongst your own kind. Always frolicking by yourself when let out to graze, always straying behind the group after milking.
Shiu couldn’t even tease enough out of you (not even half a bucket!) when compared to the rest of the cows here. But the thing is, you seemed perfectly content with your few close attachments on the farm, your few friends, your rejection of many bulls (and trust that the attempts to woo were many). And whether that was because you’d grown too attached to him, whether that was just the way you were - he didn’t exactly mind.
He knew he shouldn’t have favorites, and yet…here you were.
“Feeling all better?” He’s asking, and you’re nodding languidly. Still tired, then. This season’s heat had been as powerful as ever - out of all his hybrids, it was safe to say that you had one of the strongest.
The neediest.
The sultriest.
Which wouldn’t even have been notable if you’d just let another bull hybrid mount you through them to ease the urges, perhaps even result in a cute lil’ calf for his farm- but that was exactly the problem.
You didn’t.
Shiu couldn’t even count on two hands how many times he’d tried to pair you off with one of his bulls - and each time had ended in a disaster. Either you’d barricaded yourself in another part of your barn room, or you’d claw your way outside altogether. Each and every time, Shiu would check on you in the middle of your heats to find that you were in the throes of your desires, fiddling with nothing but the toys he’d gifted you, and his sullen bulls would be pouting n’ pushed off to one side. Useless, really.
No matter how needy you were, you just wouldn’t take to them. And it wasn’t that they were particularly weak, or unattractive - there was Ino who you’d just ended up chatting through your heat with, Kashimo and Ijichi who you’d both kicked out, Takaba who you didn’t even look at, Naoya who you…
Yeah, he didn’t want to think about the beaten-up state you’d left Naoya in. It made him laugh.
He wondered who the problem was - those bulls that couldn’t woo you properly, or you who couldn’t be wooed.
He blamed the bulls.
And he’s patting the top of your head tenderly, carefully avoiding the slight protrusions of your horns that were oh-so-sensitive. Mutterly absent-mindedly, “It’s alright, it’s alright. Trust that we’ll find you a proper mate next year, girlie.”
You can only nod unsurely, gesturing at his phone. “Someone’s talking, Shiu.”
“Huh? Oh someone’s-” Oh, right, he was in the middle of his call still. He’d almost forgotten. Shiu tunes into the latest of Kusakabe’s spiel, and it didn’t seem like he’d missed out on anything too important—
“-had no idea what I was going to do for the few days I’d be in Tokyo for the Hybrid Farms Convention, I’ll pick him up right on my way back from there.”
“Mhm, sounds good.” He rattles off.
“You can keep him anywhere you like, to be honest. He doesn’t have any specific requirements, he’s just as sturdy as he is massive- hah! Though, I do give Toji a separate room of his own from the others…just in case.”
“Mhmmm.”
“My apprentices will be taking care of it while he’s gone, all ready for that big boy to be back.”
“Mhmmm.” Shiu lightly furrows his brows—if he has apprentices, and he has other bulls he’s leaving behind, then why did he need to leave Toji in particular with Shiu again? Oh, whatever…
“And you remember what I said earlier, right?”
Well, he wasn’t really listening but…“Mhm-”
“You have to keep an eye on Toji while he’s in rut.”
“Mh-” Shiu’s eyes bug out of his scalp, his knees grow a little weak, and he damn near drops his phone- oh, too late. He’s already dropped his phone down into the green grass below, startling you in the process. “While he’s in what?”
.
.
.
Name: Toji Fushiguro
Age: 30’s (approx.)
Hybrid type: Bos taurus
Height: 6’2+
Weight class: 1600kg - 1800kg.
Other notes: Subject has a sleek black coat, high intelligence, and a somewhat temperamental demeanour. He will insult you if it comes to infringing upon his freedom. Does not care for medical exams. Continuous horn growth that shows evidence of strong fighting capabilities, fatal power, and weapon-like appendages. It should be noted that the subject is of a larger size even amongst Bos taurus (in particular, the Nambu shorthorn bulls) and needs larger spaces of leisure than most. Take care to handle, needs multiple handlers.
Shiu’s face only grows pale as he reads down the medical sheet, quickly flicking his eyes to the very end so that he might be able to spare himself some of the torture.
-particularly powerful ruts with the urge to breed. According to the handler, it is noted that the subject has not spent a rut in the presence of a mate.
Even paler.
To emphasize, he is unmated.
And paler.
And currently nearing his rut.
For the second time in the past 24 hours (which isn’t many times, but it’s strange that it’s happened twice) Shiu’s fingers drop whatever he was holding in shock. Diligently, you’re right beside the farmer to pick up the piece of paper and hand it to him - giggling when he drops it for a third time.
Though, it was by sheer miracle that he doesn’t just faint right then and there.
Oh—he catches a glimpse of Kusakabe’s large white cattle trailer backing up into his hybrid pen and can feel himself teetering already. Thankfully, you were right there to nudge your head against his frame in support, slightly worried for the human man.
Because not only was Toji said to be nearing his merciless rut, but according to the medical sheet that his friend (‘friend’ hah!) had handed to him, he was unmated?
Makes sense, Kusakabe’s farm specialized in bulls.
But perhaps if Toji had a mate then the cow hybrids of this farm would be safe- he casts a sidelong look your way. Perhaps you - with your still-sweetened pheromones, and your even sweeter demeanour - would be safe.
“N-nothing-” The farmer places a hand on your head and pats, faintly. “Nothing at all, don’t you worry about a thing, girlie.”
Ah, well…Shiu thinks to himself, watching as the truck finally finishes reversing, and Kusakabe (that bastard!) slides out of the driver’s seat to open up the towering steel door in the back. It looked so massive compared to the admittedly above-average man, and that only made Shiu’s tension increase twofold at what may be lurking behind those metal gates.
Ones that seem to burst open with a roaring screeeech—
“Oh, shit.” His mouth was desert-dry, his grip unyielding on you who’d been angling your head to get a better look. “Oh, shit.”
Because Toji Fushiguro was massive.
Dominating.
So many thousands of kilograms of a hybrid that sauntered smugly out of the trailer, as if he owned it. As if he owned this entire farm and everyone in it.
The rest of the hybrids were drawn in by the commotion, turning their curious eyes towards the refined horns that gleamed as they entered the light. Towards the thundering ground. The powerful flank. The polished coat. The single golden ring ‘round his nostrils.
And you had to admit that you didn’t expect him to be so…handsome.
All ruggedly scarred lips from his tussles, and a face that seemed to be carved by the heavens above. You let your widened peripherals glide down the smooth skin of his front; all broad shoulders, prominent pecs, the cutest golden hoops pierced through his pink nipples, and abs for days. He shakes his shaggy black bangs out of his gaze.
Those smug verdant eyes that take one look your way - the way that Shiu had his possessive hold on you - and narrow.
Kusakabe startles as his prized bull hybrid suddenly stops in his tracks, his grip on his leash slightly faltering. And it seems that everyone within the pen holds their breath as a low huff of gruff displeasure leaves Toji, scorching hot fury reaching where you were.
Jaw clenching.
Eyes flashing.
He lowers his horned head as if he was about to-
“Ah ah-” Kusakabe’s the one to break through the charged tension on the farm with his command. He tugs on Toji’s firm leash, though, as a farmer, Shiu thinks he could see the slight waver in his movements.
Toji’s rumbling in refusal, tugging against the restraints. And Kusakabe’s nearly thrown off his feet- before he’s holding onto the side of the truck for balance, pulling the bull hybrid away from where his sights were set. “Easy, boy, easy.” He’s looking at you two with an apologetic smile, “Sorry, he’s just a bit excited with the ru-”
“Ahem ahem ahem-” Shiu suddenly coughs, cutting off the other man. “Better get him settled inside his enclosure, Kusakabe. Don’t want any more trouble now…”
“Ah- right, right.”
And with a slight swat at Toji’s flank, he’s fighting against the hybrid to guide him towards that lil’ enclosure made specifically for him. Shiu had taken care to section it off from the rest of the pen where the cows were, with hardy wooden tree trunks that composed the fences. And not one, but two padlocks that Kusakabe seems relieved to lock once he’s managed to get him inside.
Hands slightly shaking where Toji breathes hotly down his neck, black tail flicking in irritation.
“Calm down, calm down.” The farmer wasn’t sure whether he was telling it to Toji or himself- finally finishing off with the locks and looking up at him. “Now- you be a good boy, alright. Don’t give Shiu any trouble, don’t fight too hard with the other bulls- no use in telling you not to fight, I know you won’t listen to that anyway, and no matter what-”
Toji raises an unimpressed brow as Kusakabe raises a directing finger.
“-no going overboard with your rut.”
“And what exactly does ‘overboard’ mean?” Shiu wearily nears the special pen, arms carefully lifted off of you and wrapped around his own body in comfort.
Kusakabe beams, “No idea! We’ve never had him near cows before!”
Shiu felt like hitting him.
“Well, she just got off her heat-” At the way that Toji’s nostrils flare, his grin widens, Shiu almost regrets saying that with a gesture towards you. Oh? He blocks the bull’s greedy line of sight towards you, and grumbles. “-so no funny business.”
Toji scoffs.
“Use your words, Toji.” Kusakabe pleads, “No need to be like that.”
And he takes a second to pause. To consider. To seemingly mull over his words before- “Eat my ass-”
“Toji-”
“That’s it-” Shiu spits, not waiting for either man nor hybrid to finish before he’s stomping off to where you were watching the commotion from (as was the rest of the farm, but it seems like this hulking intruder had eyes only for you).
And with his hand placed gently where your flower-patterned collar was, Shiu leads you away from the herd. Away from the pen. Away from Toji, towards the barn where your room was. “That’s it- for the time that that bull is here, he won’t be seeing a single glimpse of you, that’s for sure.”
“But why?” You whine, your head tugging backwards. And Shiu could almost balk at the way that you - you - were half-heartedly resisting his grip, trying to look back at Toji. “Why can’t I-”
“Because.”
And that was that, you were isolated inside the barn, and Toji was padlocked away in his pen. Far, far away from you for the time that he’d be staying there.
And as Kusakabe waves his exit from his farm, promising to be back in a few days, Shiu makes sure to get a good punch in (all in good friendship, of course). Because Shiu Kong was calm. Shiu Kong was composed. Shiu Kong could survive just a few days with an in-rut bull hybrid infiltrating his farm.
“And how long until you’re back again?”
“Three- ouch, three days. You have a good right hook, man.”
After all, it was exactly that - just a few days.
What’s the worst that could happen?
.
.
.
The first day.
Toji could see you.
Through the slightest crack in those barn doors, just the tips of your ears peaking out as you glimpse at him. It turns out that just Shiu’s command couldn’t hold you, and you staggered your way up to the barn doors whenever that damned farmer of yours wasn’t around to see. Watching. Waiting.
Taking in the sight of him.
And it wasn’t that Toji wasn’t used to stares - he was a prized bull hybrid, larger than most. So it was quite the given that he’d gather stares from competition, from unmated cows, hell, even from farmers who would like their chance at raising human-hybrid offspring. And so it wasn’t exactly new…
But just this way you were looking at him…it made him shiver.
Those pretty doe-eyes held up a curious, somewhat fearful, admiration. A slight arousal dampening between your legs that his honed senses could smell from even here—
Toji swears something in him had snapped the very split-second that he’d arrived here.
That he’d first locked eyes with you.
That he’d first sniffed at the remaining sweetness of your heat. Your sex.
Every sense in him right now (even the rational ones) were screaming at him to break out of this enclosure and waltz right up to you, break through those barn doors if he had to. He wanted to smell your pheromones. To hold you. To stuff his hot, throbbing cock between your legs and watch as you struggle to take it all.
He wanted to breed you.
And - multiple times - Toji found himself barging against the locked doors of his pen. Whispering your sweet, sweet name underneath his breath (learned from some of the other hybrids that watched him), ramming his horns against the wooden walls.
He was in rut.
Badly.
Badly, badly, badly.
The sheer intensity of it was more than anything else he’d ever felt- fuck, not even his first rut had felt this strong. It wasn’t that he was unmated. It wasn’t that he was in an unfamiliar place. It was just you, you, you.
Taking the wind out of his lungs. Making his length ache heavily between his strong legs. Wafting his intoxicating scent - something spicily sweet, with a peculiar tang in it that made you drunk on it like liquor, like mulled wine - all the way to where you were watching from the barn doors.
You’re sagging heavily against its wooden frame to take it in, sighing at the murky pheromones that seemed to cloud the entire farm-
“Oi, girlie!”
And through it all, that damned Shiu had made sure to cockblock him.
Even now, here came his annoying, grating tone. He’d kept a close eye on Toji ever since Kusakabe had left in his truck, rarely straying too far from the hybrid pen. He was always butting in, always breaking the stare-down between you two.
With one hand on his hip, the farmer watches as you startle at his voice. Suddenly hurrying to stumble back inside the barn where you came from.
And it would’ve almost been cute had it not been a result of you breaking one of his direct rules: do not interact with the bull in rut. But the thing is, you’d never seen a bull like him—and he was in rut? Oh…
Shiu barks out, “Where’d you think you were going, huh? Yeah- that’s right, inside.” And with you gone, Shiu would glare up at Toji. Toji wasn’t shy to glare right back.
“Problem?” He smiles.
“Yeah-” The farmer had crinkled his nose- and pointed at the way that Toji had been impatiently pushing against the enclosing walls, trying to break out, trying to get to you. He spits out distastefully, “-that. Don’t think you’re getting anywhere near her, got it?”
“Not at all.”
That night, Shiu had sent for a few more locks to be delivered from the hardware store downtown (he wasn’t even sure that they did delivery, but he’d coax them into if it meant not taking his eyes off of you). Multiple. He’d fixed them onto the gates of Toji’s pen, “This should keep you out.” Shiu had declared, jangling the metallic additions with one hand. “Not even the finest bulls in the world would be able to break through these. Hah! Take that.”
“Fuck off.”
He’d charged at the other man, but alas, the gates stayed steadfast.
.
.
.
The second day.
Toji had murmured your name like a mantra all night.
All night.
Again and again and again-
“He really doesn’t seem so bad, Shiu.” You’d tried to whine to the farmer, when he’d come back into the barn after fixing a few more locks - the count was reaching upwards of ten by now - on the gates of the bull’s enclosure.
But Shiu had only waved off your pleading noises, “Now, don’t give me that look. I heard the way he was ramming against those gates last night, I heard his bellows.” Needless to say, you had, too…“And I just don’t think it’s safe for you to be out when such a bull is in rut, girlie. Not unless you wanted to be mated- hah!”
Well…
You pushed your quivering thighs together. You’d hate to admit that in the privacy of your room last night, listening to Toji grow so desperate, listening to him say your name like that…you’d actually reached for your heat toys about once or twice.
You’d never felt this way about a bull before- hell, you’d never felt this way about anyone before.
And it was such a strange sensation to be glidin’ up the buzzin’ tip of your vibrator to your clit, massaging that sweet lil’ nub without the carnal pangs of your heat. Just the carnal pangs of…pure need-
“Besides.” Shiu’s cutting through your lecherous memory, and you hope the evidence of your lewd acts don’t show on your face. He gently pats at your head, the way he’s done so many times before. “You don’t need to be mounted by such a big, bad bull. My poor girl.”
“I don’t?” You mutter to yourself.
And Shiu doesn’t seem to catch on, “After all, it’s not like you’re in heat.”
No…you suppose not.
But you can’t help but raise your face into the saturated atmosphere, seemingly so balmy and languid ever since Toji stepped foot onto the farm. And there, you can smell the most addictive scent- fuck, something that just made your core twitch with need.
“Feeling alright, my girl?” Shiu looks on at the way you shiver, and whatever he sees there makes him lead you back to your place within the barn. “Hm, maybe you should get some rest- it’s probably that bull’s pheromones messing you up.”
“M-messing me up?” You’re asking, your entire body feeling set alight. Though, you didn’t feel the slightest bit messed up.
“Mhm- since you’re unmated, just coming off an unsuccessful heat. But it’s alright-” Shiu reassures, starting to shut your door, and there’s a meaningful look in his eyes. “We can try again next year, I have a few other bulls in mind that you might like to mate with. And he won’t be getting anywhere near you until then.”
“He won’t…”
Shiu continues, “Besides, Kusakabe will be picking him up tomorrow, so you have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
You don’t say anything, but you know that you aren’t worried. Not even the slightest bit.
In fact…your body wished he’d be here even longer.
But ah- if he was just going to be taken away tomorrow, then what was the use in wanting? As your wooden door slams shut, you’re realizing that you just might never see him again.
And, outside, Toji only rams against the pen fence even harder.
He wanted you.
He wanted you.
He wanted you.
.
.
.
The third (and final) day.
Or is it…
“What?” Shiu barks into his phone receiver, so loud that it startles every hybrid grazing in the vicinity. All of them were out, leaving the barnhouse all barren by this point - though Shiu didn’t doubt that his voice reached even you inside. And the sheer incredulousness in his tone makes even Toji look over, with a smirk that told the farmer that he was quite enjoying witnessing his distress. But Shiu paid no mind to that.
He couldn’t.
Right now, he was much more frazzled by the words that had the utter fuckin’ audacity to sheepishly leave Kusakabe’s mouth on the other end of the line. Almost in a trance, Shiu pinches the bridge of his nose and repeats. “So…you’re telling me…” Each word tremored with the sheer effort that it took to keep the rage out of them, “That you want me…to come…”
“All the way to Tokyo to help me fix up my engine and save me from being stranded? Yes.” Kusakabe’s voice finishes off, “Shiu, my oldest friend, my dearest pal, have I ever told you how much I love y-”
“Atsuya Kusakabe I will kill you.”
Toji snorts out in laughter, and Shiu is suddenly reminded that he’d been in the middle of fixing up just one more lock to the bull’s pen when he’d gotten the call. Gate held ajar for now. Padlocks unlocked as he fixed them on.
Glaring at the hybrid for the interruption, Shiu’s pinching the pen closed as he grumbles. “And you need me - you can’t just go to one of the many, many, many mechanics in Tokyo - because why exactly?”
“Aww, don’t be like that, Shiu!” Kusakabe cries out, “Do you have any idea how expensive Tokyo is? I just bought a cute lil’ pastry before the convention, and it bankrupted me for generations!”
“And you don’t have any other friends that are closer?”
“Man, if I had any other friends, period, do you think I’d be calling you?”
Shiu supposed that was a fair enough statement. “But- but I can’t leave…” He clicks his tongue, “Just get a train then! Leave that pile of junk at some trash site where it belongs-”
“I mean, I could…” And though Kusakabe’s tone was one of curious innocence, he’d long since learned that nothing ever boded well for him when he used it. He waits with bated breath until the other man continues- “-but that just means I’ll have to leave my truck - including my cattle trailer, which I use to transport my cattle - here. And you know what else that means I’ll have to leave?”
Shiu shivers, “Wh-what?”
“Toj-”
“I’ll be there right now.”
Kusakabe cackles, “Take your tiiime~!” And soon enough, the sharp tone of the call being ended reaches Shiu’s ears.
With one last semi-glare thrown in Toji’s direction, the farmer is speed-walking to his own truck - all those tools Kusakabe needed still inside from his last fix-up. More like running. More like sprinting to save his friend.
Not because he wanted to save his friend, of course. But because every second that Kusakabe was stuck in Tokyo, was a second even longer that you were stuck with Toji on this farm.
All alone.
And he couldn’t have rushed out of here more determined.
More hasty.
More careless-
“Well, would ya look at that.” Toji’s scarred lips twitch upwards into a grin. And he’s reaching one of his beefy arms out to lightly - just lightly - nudge at the wooden gate of his enclosure. Watching as it swings wiiiiiiide open—creeeeak! Bearing the rest of the farm to him with welcome arms. “What a sweet little gift f’me.”
All those pesky padlocks and ties, carefully added over the last few days, were useless if some silly lil’ farmer ever forgot to lock them.
Toji takes such delight in taking that first step out of his enclosure, broad pecs heaving as he takes in the candied trail of scent left all over by a certain pretty cow hybrid. You.
He then takes a second step, a third, a fourth—
And he knows exactly where he’s heading to - the barn.
Where you were just settling in for the day, your feverish body settling atop a particularly soft, tangled mass of golden hay. Cuddling in. You’d heard Shiu’s truck take off, though it would be out-of-character for him to leave so suddenly. You weren’t sure what to think, and you were just about to nod off when…
Creak-creak-creeeeeak—!
The barn door opens.
Shiu? Fluttering open your eyes, you’re just about to raise your head and ask him what all the yelling and commotion was, when-
Oh.
Oh.
That wasn’t the farmer at all.
Toji’s large, sculptured figure takes up nearly the entire door frame. And even from here you can see his sultry grin, his agitated hips. You can smell his intense drunken pheromones—“Room for two, sweetcheeks?”
.
.
.
“I’m- hah, sensitive there…” You’re pouting as Toji relentlessly tugs you by your stubby horns towards him. His overlarge hand plastered to the back of your scalp and guided you down between his meaty thighs - not only had he kissed you silly by this point, but the hybrid had you drenched and quivering all over the hay for more.
But first…
Your watery eyes bulge as you take in the sheer length between Toji’s legs - inches upon inches, throb after throb, all looooong and rock-hard with need. His erection stood right up to graze his navel with glittery drops of precum.
Decorated with so many puffy veins down his shaft that your cunt twitched just imagining how he’d feel inside of you.
Each one pulsated as Toji drip-drip-dripped in gooey sap down his cock, all ready to pierce your hot sex. Heavy balls tightening with even more, with the urge to breed. And you’d do well to remember that bull hybrids in particular were known for having absolutely massive cocks-
“What’cha thinking about, sweet girl?” Toji hums, the point of that nickname proven when he takes a deep, heaving gasp of the pheromone-saturated air.
Before you can answer, one of his hands slither down to grip that heavy cock of his. Right ‘round the fat hilt where he can move his long length to smack! down between your half-parted lips. Using just the globular tip of his cock, he’s smearin’ apart your maw and just glossing over it with his creamy pre. “You’re not thinking of tapping out already, huh? You’re not…scared are you?”
There’s a slight mocking hint in his tone, nevertheless you’re shaking your head fervently.
He snickers, “That’s right. You don’t care what that stupid farmer of yours has to say, hm?” And oh—Toji has to stop himself from simply stuffing every inch inside your mouth already, instead wetting your lips enough so that he can sliiiiide in. “You’re not really such a good lil’ hybrid like he says- huh?”
“No-” You’re hiccuping out, “Not at- mmpf.”
Only for big, bad Toji to rut his cock against your mouth. Shutting you up with his flared tip, you can taste the pure arousal seeping into your mouth.
All warm n’ wet on top of your tastebuds—you’re drooling around his thick tip before you even know it.
“No, because you’re a baaaaad girl, aren’t ya?” He’s tutting, swiping away the splatters of saliva that just kept on leaking from the edges of your mouth- and instead, he’s reeling back to replace it with a jetstream of his own spittle. Straight onto the middle of your tastebuds.
With a second hand tugging open your mouth, Toji takes a nice look at that gluey wad sitting on your tongue- before he’s plunging his rude cock right back in between your lips. “Because you’re- haaaaah, careful, careful, no teeth- because you’re my good girl, aren’t ya?” Staring at you with half-lidded green eyes, “Allllll mine.”
“Mmmpf—” You’re muffling out around his raw girth, Toji was just so big that your maw was constantly open in this lecherous ‘oh’ shape.
Gobbling his veiny inches up even deeper and deeper, you’re only growing wetter at the way that his bawling divot scrapes down the roof of your mouth. Swervin’ left and right, and reaching for that cute lil’ dangly thing at the back of your throat-
“Ever taken a bull’s cock before?”
Choking at the lodgement in your throat, “N-no—”
“Yeah? Thought so. Ever taken anyone before?”
Shaking your head.
“Well then, she’s taking me so- hah, well.” Toji’s crooning out from above you, fucking his hips in sloppy half-thrusts inside your mouth. That rough line of his happy trail ends up scratching the tip of your nose, and you find that his intoxicating scent only grows stronger the closer you get…“Haven’t you had breakfast today, sweetcheeks?”
With tearful eyes, you’re looking up at him in confusion. “Mmm—ngh.”
“Ah ah- flick your tongue at my tip if you wanna say ‘no’—oh, just like that.” And then his mean, scarred lips end up formulating a mocking pout. “Such a cute tongue, can’t believe she’s gone hungry for so long- ngh.”
“I-” Tears stream down both your cheeks, and you’re panting out through each thrust of his achin’ cock. “Fuck, Toji, you’re just so big-”
Other hand pushing on the back of your clammy head, deeper n’ deeper. His superhuman strength was just incredible- “And look, she’s just become so greedy.” As if he wasn’t the one tunneling every spot inside your mouth, spotting it with his pre. “Don’t you know you don’t have to take any more, sweet girl, don’t you- oh—” Toji accurately hits the back of your throat, a direct thud! of his globular cockhead. He grins, watching you salivate around his cock- “-oh, fine, if you insist…”
“You’re- hck!” And the fact of the matter was that he hadn’t even fully bottomed-out yet. Criss-crossing your eyes, you spot that you had even more inches to go- “You’re so ngh-”
“And you want me to bruise the back of your- oh, throat, you say?” Toji’s cutting you off with his mean grunts, smack after smack of his heavy balls.
They graze the front of your chin and make you feel such carnal pangs, your cunt grinding back against your heels. “I didn’t even- oh.” But too late - his geysering divot was already bruising away back there.
Push after push.
Probe after probe.
Until Toji’s shaft had stirred up every single hidden spot inside of you, and he was swelling up even more like he wanted more, more, more—
“Toji-” Your nails claw down the pale expanse of Toji’s thighs, just so plush rippling underneath your touch. “Toji I want-”
“Ohoooo?” His raven brows raise in amusement, a mean grin spreading across his face. “The good girl is making demands now, hm?” As you whimper away, he’s thrashin’ at the back of your throat- again and again. “I guess I can’t just keep listening to her, huh?”
Her? Who…oh.
He was talking about your thoroughly damp pussy, with the sappiest noises leaving you each time you’re pushing back on your heels. Soaked with desire.
And Toji seems amused by your shocked reaction, “How cute…go on then, sweetcheeks. Go on. Lemme know what that cute lil’ heart of yours desires.”
You’re pulling back from his red, glistenin’ tip with a lecherous pwah! “I-I want…” You’re sobbing, lashes fluttering in a way that makes- oh, you won’t be mad if he told you he was getting even harder now, would you? “-I want to feel you, Toji.”
To feel him?
To feel him?
His hazy peripherals snap down to see the way you were eyeing his long, long length. And then he’s realizing - oh, you wanted to feel him inside, did you?
Inside…fuck.
Your eyes damn near bulge out of your skull at the way that Toji’s rock-hard length only seemed to grow even…bigger at your words. Flaring up until he was red-hot at the tip, all slicked with a glaze of saliva and pre.
Toji smacks his painfully hard shaft down once more at your maw, “What dirty, dirty words- and from such a good girl?” He scoffs.
And just as you’re about to explain yourself, you’re suddenly feeling near whiplash at the way that Toji grabs onto your throat and flips the two of you around. Hoisting. Manhandling. Ending up with his back against the floor, head against the hay, and your naked cunt drivelling right above him.
So wet and pretty.
Toji’s mouth waters at the sight of your damp, glistening hole. And he can’t help but immediately reach one hand over to thumb apart your puffy pussylips, pressin’ apart your folds and spitting straight into your hole.
“Or were they words from her, hm?” Toji’s gruffly snickering, flopping that wide tongue of his out to catch your droplets of slick. “Talking out of that pussy, hah- you’re even dirtier than I thought, sweetcheeks.”
Your thighs ache as they hover, slightly chasing the warmth of his mouth. “M’n-not dirty! I just wanted to feel you…” Casting a longing look behind at his throbbing length-
“As if. And you can have my cock-” You look up hopefully at his answer, how cute—you couldn’t even properly fit his cock inside your mouth, and now you think you could fit him inside your cunt? “-but first I’ve gotta stretch this dirty girl ouuuuut.”
“But, I can take- hngh!”
As if. Before you know it, Toji’s slithering his long, looooong tastebuds inside your cunt with absolutely no warning, no hesitation.
Just the ridged texture of his muscle slithering inside, and you’re quivering at the sheer size of him. And he feels the tightness of your circular innards and grins- “Woah…” Just a single taste of you, and his pheromones are blasting out in pure need. “Don’t you know that you hafta stretch ‘er out first, hm? What- never done this before?”
Gingerly, you shake your head ‘no’.
“Oh- reeeeeally.” Just pryin’ aside your folds, you were so fucking wet that that honeyed slick splashes down onto his face like a puddle. Toji rolls his eyes, “I would’ve never thought.”
You huff n’ puff atop him, “Don’t- don’t tease, Toji-”
“Why, m’not teasing..” He’s spitting on your cunt yet again, letting the dewy excess trickle back down into his throat. “I already know that this pretty pussy hasn’t been satisfied like she deserves. I can fucking taste it-” Tunneling back in again. “Can hear it.” The most lecherous slurps echoing in your ears as he does, the bull’s ears flick your way to listen to it. “She wants only me- heh, wants me to be her first, doesn’t she?”
Slurp-slurp-sluuuuurping as he’s rovering his tongue, somehow contracting it and extracting it in a way that massages your velvety walls.
Again and again.
“All you hafta do is sit there- all pretty, and take it.” Toji croons, and something dark glints within that gaze of his as he catches your lost expression. “What? That dear farmer of yours never taught you how to take it like a good girl when yer being eaten out.”
“N-no-”
“Then let me teach you—” Oh, you knew he didn’t bode well by the way that he said it. You knew it.
And in a split-second, Toji has one hand plastered at your hip, and the other veering upwards to smack! down on your swollen pussy. “Ah ah-” As you buck, that hold he has on you grows numbing, and you’re sure he’s leaving nail marks there for weeks. “Toji’s first rule- don’t run.”
“I won’t—” You’re swallowing your words back just as soon as you say them, because just then- two of his rovering fingertips intrude their way inside your cunt.
Not even waiting for you to get used to him, not even faltering as you squeeeeeeze.
He’s straightly stuffing two of them inside your snug channel, the bulbous ends of Toji’s digits digging into each of your hidden spots without even trying. Turning them over. Pushing into every nook n’ cranny n’ crevice over and over- “Oh my god-” Bellowing out, your body starts to move back and forth against him - as if it didn’t know whether you wanted to bounce down or run away- “Toji, I’ve never felt something like this- ngh.”
Only for a loud smack! to ring out against your wet pussylips once again, and for Toji to haul you back onto his mouth with his beefy arm. “What’d I say about rule number- hah, one, hm? Silly girl.”
He was stopping you from running from it.
He was looping one of his thick, beefy biceps ‘round your waist, stopping you from moving away from his open-mouthed kisses. “Good.” Pulling you in so close that his golden nose ring presses frigidly against your clit and makes you flinch. “Atta girl- atta, sweet girl.” Toji smirks against your cunt, once you try squirming your hips and find that you can’t move even a single inch. “Now squeeeeeze those pretty legs around, I don’t care if I fucking suffocate, use me, sweetness- that’s the second rule.”
“Like- like this?” You ask, your whiny pitch trembling just as much as your legs were by now. Feebly, they attempt to straddle Toji’s head properly.
To which it almost looks as if the bull hybrid was about to laugh—“No.”
Numerous more spanks of his fingertips on your cunt, and soon enough you’re finding yourself completely limb atop him. As he fingers you to tears, rotund fingertips scouring all the way to your cute cervix-
“I mean-” From your hips, his hand is then moving to your thighs. Wrapping around them to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze- until Toji felt light-headed. “-like this.”
“I think m’d-doing it.” You’re gyrating atop him wildly by now, finding a staccato in time with his thudding! fingers. Not only were they thick, they were just so long too - and they left you feeling dizzy with his vulgar strokes, with his incredible scent.
“Third rule, fuck back into me.” He commands, with that specific tone of a bull in rut that made you want to listen to him immediately. Your hamstrings screamed in protest as you continue, “Fuck her back into me- harder now, aren’t you a cow hybrid? Buck.”
You could barely even believe your ears, “You’re just so fucking mean- fuck!”
“Yeah, yeah, just like that.”
And Toji’s tongue? Oh, he wasn’t just staying still - not at all.
Toji had his tongue wrapped ‘round your throbbing clit and spanking down with his tastebuds. “And the fourth and final rule-” He gurgles through the wettened wads you were seeping out, “-is to get ready.”
You’re blinking your teary eyes back open, looking down at him in shock. “Get ready for what?”
It takes a few more probin’ thrusts before he can bear to pull away- and that, too, with the loudest smooch! The bull hybrid’s pants come out in heaving gusts, scalding air making you quiver at the sensation.
“Get ready…” Toji rattles off, after a few sultry seconds. And oh- you wonder, why was his tone octaves higher? Why did he sound so breathy? Why was there something…crazed in the way he said it- “-because you think a bull hybrid in rut would really be this nice, sweetcheeks?”
Jaw dropping, “Oh-”
“You don’t know how painful it was to hold myself back-”
And before you know it, your spine’s arching as you struggle to accommodate him- struggling to handle the raw primal pressure of his thick tongue and two- three of his fingers plunging into your hole. Pushing and pushing and pushing—
You’ve become masterful at rule number three, it seems, as you’re pressing your thighs upon either side of Toji’s face until he groans.
All of his appendages just reaching all the way for the very back of your cunt—“Ohhh, please-” Your head throws backwards as you feel him fuck you with his tongue like he was trying to ruin your inexperienced pussy. “P-please-”
“Oh m’ having a pleasant time alright.” Toji snickers, his heated pants leaving your skin perspired. The mountains of his knuckles were striking your outer pussy so hard now that they were starting to grow red on his skin. “S’fuh-fucking sweet.” Stinging.
Plap! after plap! You’re moaning as his mouth unhinges undeniably deeper to let even more of his tongue’s inches inside. Stretchin’ out your cute orifice, “Gonna hafta stretch her at least twice- haaah- twice as fuck! much if you wanna fit my cock, sweet girl.”
“Twice as much…” You’re repeating breathlessly, you couldn’t even begin to imagine it. It already felt like Toji was pulling you to your very limits - so even more…
“Rule number five- just made it up, heh.” Toji spits out - literally, a glittering glob of spittle that sticks to your slit. It slides down to your hold and makes it easy for him to thrash his tongue inside like an animal- like he was frenzied by his pheromones, like he couldn’t control himself from push-push-pushing.
Not even at a controlled cadence- Toji couldn’t stop himself from squishing your sweetest spots at the very back of your cunt. In almost no time, he’s finding that cute lil’ heart-shaped g-spot of yours - and Toji’s fingertips and tongue were fighting over which one gets to press on it the most.
Again and again until you’re in actual tears- “Rule number five is- ngh, you have to take it.” Holding you to him, until your cunt folds were plastered against his puffy lips. “Take it all like my good girl if you wanna finally take my cock.”
“Please-” Being pummelled away to the maximum, it’s all you can say like a constant mantra. “Please please- ngh! Please-”
“That’s all that dirty mouth can say now?” Toji tuts, “Tch- what happened to wanting me inside? Wanting my cock? Wanting to be fucked like the slut you secretly are?”
Primal swabs, again and again.
Twofold.
After each word, Toji’s tongue sizzles against your tender pussy - lips glued so deeply against your folds, that you can feel him lappin’ away every ounce of your slickness.
It drips slightly down his chin, and leaves your cunt slipping on top of Toji’s handsome face. You grab onto his large horns with a yelp- “Oh! Fuck, Toji- did I really say that?”
“Of course you did- hah, gallop, sweethearts.” With yet another spank, he rovers his face even deeper between your trembly legs. Nose-deep. Skin-deep. So deep, in fact, that the veins on Toji’s sculptured neck pop out.
You’re unsteadily bucking against him on instinct, and that leaves the man groaning. “Just like that.” Swallowing up every inch of your outer cunt, you’re being pierced by the relentless ministrations of his tongue again and again—“You asked to be fucked like a slut- hngh, and that’s exactly what m’giving you. Aren’t I just the beeest mating partner, sweetcheeks?”
“But I didn’t-” You’re babbling out, drunk on the vicious scrape-scrape-scrape of his intrusions. His fingers pushed just as your g-spot, and you could feel him glissading down even deeper. Deeper. Deeper. “-I didn’t say that—”
“Oh, didn’t you?” He’s hazily looking up from between your legs - there was something bleary in his eyes, something gone. “I think I remember-”
“Well I don’t-” As you’re raising your voice, you can’t believe it- Toji’s powerful tail wraps around your thighs and drags you back down.
He rumbles, “Rule number one…” In warning.
And it’s only with a few more thuds! that Toji’s pretending to remember just what you’re whinin’ away about, his dark brows shooting up to his bangs. And you can feel your treacly cunt quiver with the vibrations of his laughter, “But ah- I remember now.” His eyes crinkle into slits of amusement, eating you out until his nose ring slicks with your syrup. Just the notion is enough to leave his pheromones heightening, “I believe you said…‘you wanted to feel me’.”
Mouth dropping in recognition, “Oh- I did.”
“And what did you mean by that, hm?” Toji speaks through the ringing slurps, zap after zap of pleasure. “You’re already feeling me here-” Pokin’ at your g-spot, “And here-” His tongue snakes out to suck on your clit once more.
“I just meant I wanted to feel you- hck!”
His sweaty brows furrow, “But yer already feeling me-”
“No- more like I wanted to feel your-” You’ve never spoken words like this before, not even in the throes of your worst heats. You glance back at his twitching erection, “-there.”
“My where?”
“Your- your cock, Toji!” You’re wailing out, your legs feeling numb at the way he strikes your sweetest bundle of nerves. “I wanna feel your thick, looooong cock- please.”
Oh, you really were such a dirty girl. He’s gnawing down on that nub of your clit, “And where do you wanna feel my thick- looooong- cock, hm?”
You’re stammering, mouth growing less in-your-control the longer he’s making a mess of your poor pussy. “Inside-”
“Inside where?”
“Inside my cunt-” And you’re shocked you manage that out without stumbling over your words, gryatin’ back into his open maw with sly figure eights. But even that wasn’t enough—
Toji rolls his eyes, such a mess. Such a shattered mess. Just pushing and tasting and lavishing his tongue all over- “Say it again-” When you’re repeating your sultry words, “More- dirtier. Be good f’me, girl, say it again-”
“I want your cock inside my cunt, Toji.” You’re whimpering out, you’re shaking. Feeling the inexperience bubble within each of your veins, because the hybrid was just having so much fun corrupting you. “I want it inside- want you to fuck me with that cock so badly-”
“Atta girl.”
Forcing you to say those lecherous words, forcing you to cum—
“Oh my god-” With your back arched, you’re throwing your body into the wave of pleasure that suddenly bursts inside your body. “C-cumming- I’m cumming, Toji-”
“And it’s all because of me.” He’s smugly saying, perfectly puncturing at your g-spot with his constant pushes.
Because of Toji’s rut, his senses were so honed that he could mark each peak of your high- the explosion of bliss that he pinpointed with his fingers, with the slashes of his tongue. “Heh- me.” With a wet chuckle, Toji’s tongue was going to lick up every inch of your pussy like he was frenzied. Couldn’t get enough. Lap after lap. “Me me me me-” He sucks on your clit, letting his canines nibble lightly on them, and it lets out the most lewd sluuuuurp. “-and look- she’s thanking me.”
“Fuck! Never felt something so good-” Whining out, you’re bouncing your back into each of his hits. “-might be the best orgasm I’ve ever had- hck!”
“S’a pleasure, sweet girl.”
By the time the best of your high bates, Toji still hasn’t let up between those syrupy legs of yours. When he’s licked up every droplet of sap you’re letting out, he’s moving over to lick at the sheen of slick glued to your thighs.
Again and again.
Until you’re all the way overstimulated, and tears start to drip as if from a faucet. “I th-think m’done, Toji.” As if he already didn’t know - you’re pushing at his clammy head. “My orgasm’s over, I wanna try taking your cock now-”
“And you’re sure?”
He wasn’t asking to be nice. He was asking to make you turn your head and balk at the way his impossible size had only seemed to grow even bigger. Your lips wobbling, “Y-yes.”
“Oho?” Dark brows raising, he stops his ministrations and moves both hands to now grip at your waist. “Well, you did tell me to put my ‘thick, looooong cock inside of your cunt’-”
“So shut up and do it.” Huffing in embarrassment, you pound at his muscular chest - and he could barely even feel it, like kitten kisses on his bulky body. It’s enough for Toji’s cock to jolt with need, and for his attractive face to break out into a grin.
“Atta girl.”
And with that final compliment, Toji’s making to grab onto your waist and lift you off of his face—with the loudest smooch! It’s ringing out like the prettiest melody in both your eardrums, and Toji just barely manages to disconnect himself with your sweet pussy.
Just barely breaks his lips from your tender folds, all slickly glossed.
Just barely wrenches you off with ease, and takes one nice look at your hole - when you’re realizing that Toji Fushiguro suddenly stops. His nostrils suddenly flare. He suddenly stutters-
“O-oh, sweet girl. I don’t think you even realize-” Toji gawks up at your cunt. And you’re feeling somewhat shy when he filthily leans his features in and takes a good, long sniff at your cunt. As you’re looking up at him in confusion, “-you’re in heat.”
“In heat?” He sets you down near his rugged v-line, and you’re animalistically grinding your cunt down on his thickened length. You look up at him for answers, “What do you mean? Shiu said I’ve already finished my heat-”
“Fuck what Shiu says, silly girl.” Lightly spanking your pussy, Toji rolls his sage eyes. His pupils were all blown-out and bleary with lust, only darkening the more he takes in your buttery pheromones.
Oh, you smelled like the sweetest freshly-whipped cream - and that only made his mouth water as much as his swollen cock was. Drenching the cute innards of your thighs n’ your pussy mound with his sap, he grins. “I can smell it.” He parts his scarred lips, a thin line of saliva trickling down one side. “I can fucking- taste it-”
“Oh—” You’re gyratin’ back against his plummy cock tip, oh-so-lewdly. And you take another sniff of yourself, reaching up to feel that your scent glands have swollen up. “I g-guess you’re right-”
“Sugar, I am right.”
Before you know it, the world’s a blur around you- and suddenly you find your back against the soft hay. Your head being cushioned by one of Toji’s rugged palms, Toji’s large body hovering over you. Pressing you down-
“And this pretty pussy’s tellin’ me that this is yer first heat with a bull, hm?” Sliding his thumb between your glossy crevice, he listens for the squelches. “Awww, how cute—so m’your first, sweet girl?”
“Yes- yes.” And when he places his fleshy cock between your legs, at that sweet spot where you wanted him the most, you can’t help but realize that oh- he’d been stretching you out for so long for a good reason.
Because Toji’s hybrid cock looked absolutely ginormous between your legs, especially with the way he’d thickened up in size while eating you out. His cockhead was as red as a huge strawberry, and multiple times bigger. Bull hybrids, famed for the shaft length - now slipping n’ sliding between your pussylips.
Just kissing at your geysering orifice- “Oh- fuck.”
“And you know having you on top would be the easiest for her…” That said, he’s swatting his rough fingertips down on the nub of your clit. He’s spitting. He growls, and it’s enough to send shivers down your spine- “But m’still gonna have her in a mating press.” Throwing your legs over his shoulders, folding you damn in half. “Because you also forget one- fuck-” Just feeling you clench around nothing, enough to make him reach up and grab at a wooden beam. “-thing, sweetness.”
“And what’s that, Toji?”
“I’m in-” Hard enough that the wooden beam breaks—“-rut.”
Fourth rule, remember?
Because you didn’t think that he’d go this easy on you when he’s in fuckin’ rut, did you? You didn’t think that he was going to fuck you nicely, did you? You didn’t think that he wasn’t going to act like a damn animal, did you?
In a sudden motion, Toji’s plugging your hole up with his thick cockhead- and shoving it deep into your deepest insides. Long. Hard.
You’re yelping, nails finding purchase on his deltoids and clawing on for dear life because- “A virgin, are ya?” He tuts, “Don’t think m’gonna go easy on ya.”
“Oh my goodness-” Thighs curling around his toned waist, hips attempting to buck away. “Holy fuck-”
“Easy, easy.” It was just so cute the way you were struggling - especially when you were talking so big about wanting him. “Breathe in, girl- there ya go.” You’re following as he instructs, “Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in—” And suddenly there’s a sodden spank at your pussy, “-you, too, pretty pussy.”
Something that catches you off-guard, and makes you swallow him up an inch deeper. Your eyes rolling all the way to the back of your skull, “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- I’ve never felt like this. You’re so big- hold on, Toji, you’re so-”
“Hold on?”
“What-”
“Hold on?”
He’s then spitting out into your open mouth, and slapping your pussy so hard that you’re seeing stars. Instantly, you’re set on edge by the way that his rugged cock suddenly slams- “You’re telling me to h-hold on?”
And was that a stutter in his sentence?
A laugh?
Toji Fushiguro sounded like he was fucking losing it by merely hearing your whining questions- “You seriously want me to…” Clawing down in front of your body, one of his rude hands press down on your stomach as he’s sinking iiiiiiin. It makes you feel every ridge n’ vein, every inch, every bit of his thick shaft intruding in. “-hold on?”
“It’s just- I just didn’t think you’d be so big-” He was barely even halfway in and you could already feel Toji at your throat, gushing out sticky wads of slick. With your feet planted on the hay-littered ground, you’re trying to arch your back nearly away from—
“Oi- who said you could tap out?” Before you know it, Toji’s hand lifts from your thigh to grab onto your tail - one pulling you in by the tail, his right hand still feeling for that tummy bulge he was fucking into you.
You can’t get away by the way he’s manhandling you back down into his hips, skidding straight across the barnyard floor. “Tch- ya need ta be herded or what, silly girl?” Grazing his dark happy trail against your front, the curly tufts of it scratch your clit. “Come back t’me- rule number one, remember?”
“Fuck-” Throwing your head back in tears, your legs were limp from the sheer pressure being put on your lower half. “-I can feel you reaching in so deep-”
“And you wanted me to hold on?”
He was never going to let that go - he was never going to give you even the slightest second to get used to his incredible length.
Palm pressing down on the cylindrical outline makin’ itself known on your tummy - just that big. Pelvis moving in a rapid, urgent half-thrusts-
Toji isn’t even waiting for your cunt to take it all, his red cockhead probin’ just inwards. Inwards and inwards and inwards. He can feel the tight resistance of your pussy, your sweet body unable to take him whole right now- and it only makes him groan.
With his head thrown back, he’s letting go of your tail to smear apart your pussylips. “M’in fucking rut and you wanted me to hold on-” He’s hissing, pushing your snug folds so far apart that you have no choice but to take his hammers. “Been teasing me with that s-sweet scent ever since I fucking got here and you want me to hold on-” Pulling you to him. Dragging you to him.
Toji breaks every single second that he’s not fully sheathed inside of you, and he’s just pummeling his hips deeper- “Hold on, hold on, hold on.” After each mention of his mantra, he’s rutting in. “You want me to h-hold on and-” Harder. “-and you know what-” Deeper. “-I want to do, sweet girl?”
“What-” You’re gasping out through your tears, sticking to both of your cheeks by now. “What do you want, Toji?”
“I want to- fuck! Well, first I want to fucking fit-” He’s whispering underneath his breath, darkened eyes narrowed as he takes it in. “Fit- fit- fit-” Before you know it, he’s spitting down once more on your cunt and shoving his cockhead inside. “-fucking fit-”
Blinking away the tears in your eyes, “And- hah, and what else did you want?” By the heightening of his pheromones, you already knew that it was something about to ruin you.
“I want…” He was teasing you now, just lightly grazin’ that blushing hot tip against the roof of your cunt. You could feel him filling up every sneaky orifice, and Toji was fucking you like he’d just gone feral- “I want to-”
“Oh, fuck!”
With a final, lewd thrust- Toji Fushiguro bottoms out.
“-breed ya, sugar.”
And he meant it. The massive bull hybrid was drilling into you like a madman- his cattle nose ring clanging with each rut. “I’ve been wanting to breed you since the moment I stepped foot here.” Toji growls, the red crown of his shaft directly heading towards your cervix now. Bruising. “I want to fuck- fuck you through every day of your heat- my rut.” And he was emptying out such long strings of precum into your womb, “Try to get you pregnant every single day of my rut.”
“You’re going to get me…” Your pupils are swirlin’ in comical circles within the whites of your eyes, and just the mere notion makes your tastebuds sizzle with saliva. You hadn’t spent your heat properly with a bull- let alone found yourself mated by one.
Bred by one.
“Fucking pregnant.” Toji finishes off with a snicker, pushing against that cute lil’ tummy bulge that he was pounding into you.
“Oh, please-” You’re throwing your head back with a mewl, “But I’ve never been m-mated to anyone before. Are we sure it’s going to take, Toji-”
“I’ll make it take.”
His jackhammers were so hard by this point, enough so that your sap splatters out of you in puddles. It glistens right down the inner parts of your thighs, and Toji swipes his thumb down from your pussy to glaze it in the syrup. To reach up to his scarred maw and suck on it.
And when he feels your spit-slicked lips start to wobble out more concerns, he’s pushing that very thumb between your own lips.
“Shut it, silly girl. Ya really think that when I hah- when I fuck you like this—in this mating press.” As if on cue, his manhandling strength seems to be folding you even deeper in half. “With this pretty pussy-” Dragging out a few more slurps with his thrusts, “-and my rut- you’re not gonna be walking outta this barn stupidly pregnant?”
“I-I don’t-”
“Silly, silly girl.” It’s a rude thwack! of his curvaceous ball sack after each slam, and you can feel your body grow more restless after each of his spat-out words. So mean. “Silly lil’ hybrid thinks she’s gonna make it outta here- hah, without bearing my calves.”
You’re shivering, your body so limply fucked by this point- that Toji’s tail has to wrap around one of your thighs. Holding you up. Interlocking your ankles around his neck with that silky tail- “Well, since m’inexperienced-”
“And m’gonna give you the experience of yer life- heh, I already am.”
He was - he really was. Just making you see stars every time Toji’s overlarge, plump cockhead dug into your g-spot. Somehow he’d managed to map the insides of your walls, and each thrust grazed his length against your sweet bundle of nerves.
Probing and probing a bruise exactly the size of his round circumference- “M’gonna corrupt you, sweet lil’ thing.” A sleazy smile spreads across Toji’s handsome, perspired face. “M’gonna fill you up with so much of my cum that- hah, they’re gonna be milkin’ it out of you for months afterwards, sweet girl.”
“Fuck, I’d like that-”
“Oh yeah?”
“I’d like that s-shoooo much, Toji.”
“Bet you’d like it even more after I fill you up with my calves, hm?” He titters, pheromones slowly growing saturated enough to mingle with your own. “After I fuck this pretty pussy pregnant ‘nough times that she remembers how it feels when I fill you up? After I breed you until we can- hah, fill this whole damn farm with them? After I make a momma out of you and no other bull can ever even think of touching you-”
You squeal, “Yes- yes yes yes yes-”
His tail tightens around your ankles, horns charging as if he was only growing more n’ more excited. Throbbing with more need. “And you better fuckin’ know that these are promises, sweetness. That no fucking farmer can ever break.” Toji stares you deep in your heart-shaped eyes as he says, “I will get you pregnant.”
“Oh, I’d fucking hope so.” You glide your hands down your front, “I wanna feel you right h-here, Toji.” Down where your womb was.
Fuck…you were dangerous for a bull in heat.
And his entire body feels feverish with need, the burning sensation of his rut overtaking Toji completely.
As his hips only grow sloppier, you’re grazing your sweaty palms further down his body. Starting from his shoulders, before ultimately you end up squeezing Toji’s massive milky pecs.
Even for a bull, they were just so plush. And you can’t help but twiddle your thumbs ‘round the golden rings that he had pierced through his pinkish nipples, lecherously.
He shivers at the sensitive sensation, “O-oh? Look at you.” Snapping his head down, you swear you could see a rouge flush take over his cheekbones. “You’re corrupted already.” And both of Toji’s own hands end up removing from your stomach and your pussy, ending up- oh, you could’ve already guessed.
Both of Toji’s hands end up on your tits.
Squeezing.
Kneading.
Before you can say a word, he’s already growling out- “And as any momma would- we’re gonna hafta make sure you’re making enough milk, huh, sweetcheeks?” That last bit of his sentence ends up drowned between the valley of your chest.
Toji’s gaping his maw wide open and sucking on your right tit, his left hand pinching the nipples of your left tit.
“I don’t think anything’s gonna come out just yet-” Your tail swishes in arousal as you watch him hollow out his attractive cheeks, thoroughly sucking on your tit like his favorite lolly. Sucking like he was trying to make milk come out—“I never did produce…much…milk…”
As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re being proved wrong. Because with a gushing sensation, you can feel your hardened nipples stream out something straight into Toji’s open mouth. “You were saying?”
Pure white milk.
And he was such a messy eater, your ivory syrup dripping down his lips. It glosses them and created the sweetest lacquer that Toji himself was addicted to- “Mmm, so much, sweet thing—fuck.” He’s pinching at your left tit, too, a splashin’ puddle of milk that he immediately plops his mouth over to gulp up. “Ya really are a sweet thing-”
“I’ve never made this much even for the farmer-” You’re gasping, and your milk cascades down Toji’s chin like a waterfall. Constant. Sloppy “How did you even…”
“Because you’re in heat.” He says- choppy, through the way that he barely wanted to speak, barely wanted to remove himself from the sweet fountains of your spurting milk. “Because m’in rut.” Toji’s hips smack into yours so hard that you see white for a second, and his happy trail perfectly carnally itches at your clit. “And tonight- we’re gonna make a fucking baby, sweet mama.”
“O-oh—” With your voice cracking, you’re reaching your high. It comes instantaneously, and you arch into Toji’s glissading muscles as you ride through it.
As you’re fucked through it.
“Cumming again?” Toji’s marvelling, his words thick - he had his mouth full, after all. Smelling the saccharine sweetness of your orgasm in your pheromones, he’s marking each peak of your high with a bang! of his reddened cockhead.
Slowly opening up your womb even more, your g-spot felt so red-hot and raw from the inside as he just kept on thumpin’ away there. Again and again and again. “Of course, ya are- fuck. Just like thaaaat, fuck back into me- third rule. They say the momma needs to cum good if we wanna get you pregnant after all-”
“And what about you?” Still in the throes of your bliss, you feel absolutely no inhibitions in babbling away. Drunk on the thick, veiny size of him fucking you through your high—“Aren’t you gonna?”
“Gonna what?”
“Fuck…”
“Rule number six-” Toji pipes up, a mean glint in his eyes. “-is to use those words like the big girl you are.”
And you best believe that he was fucking you like he was trying to push the very words up to your throat, his veins massaging your sweet spots and making you shiver, his pearly white teeth back to sucking on your milk. “I want- hah!” You wince when his right hand slithers down to pinch your clit, “-you to cum- fuck.” You moan when his left keeps toyin’ with your nipples, streaming out dairy for Toji to swallow up. “-inside my cunt, Toji.”
And there—his eyes slightly widen in interest, “You really said it.” A proud smile gracing his face, “You really, really…oh.”
With a few more lewd thrusts, he’s emptying out his heavy balls.
They tighten as they spurt out the creamiest wads of cum waaaaaay back into your spongy womb, suckin’ up each pearly droplet as Toji fucks them inside you. Splashing out. Pooling out. That bawling divot in the middle of his shaft just leaves a murky mess behind, ribbons of ivory that glue your walls together.
“Oh fuck-” He’s clenching his canines, you swear he’s holding back tears—“And you’re gonna take it-” Toji snarls, fighting against the urge to throw his head back - simply because he wanted to look at you as he stuffed you till you were overspilling. “-take every single last drop-”
The hulking bull hybrid shakes as you clench your velvety walls. “Oh, yes.” You’re shivering once he smacks! your clit once more, swirlin’ those sultry webs of seed with his fingertips.
Toji’s pushing them inwards, again and again. “And yer gonna keep it, aren’t you?” Fucking you, again and again.
He hums, gluing the edges of his fingers inside your channel, so that not a single gumdrop can leak out of you. “Second rule, sweetness, squeeze those pretty legs. S’gonna tell that pussy to keep my cum inside- give me a lil’ calf, heh.”
“Shit- keep talking and I’ll…”
It’s too late for you. You’re so far gone on his pummeling length that with a few more strokes, you’re reaching your high once more.
White-hot.
Toes curling.
Back arching.
You can’t even control yourself, it’s the most powerfully sinful sensation you’ve felt in your entire life. And this time, not only are you overspilling in Toji’s glutinous white cum - you’re also spraying out your own slick. Translucent splashes of sweetness, so powerful that your entire body shakes.
Your high was being dragged out of you.
Squirting. You can’t believe you squirted during your first heat with a mate, your first heat mounted.
And as he instinctively bucks his hips through it, your new mate swears- “Fuck- fuck, don’t tell me you’re- oh. You are. Turns out I milked you dry, hm?” Something in him oh-so-triggered by the way you just kept on drippin’ from that pretty cunt, it’s as if the hybrid part of him knew that he had to do something to stop you from losing so much of it. “Rule number four, my sweet mate.”
But no bracing in the world could prepare you for what you felt in that very moment - because suddenly you’re feeling a strength so incredible that it’s as if you’re being split apart. “Your- your knot?”
“Damn right.”
You just had to see this for yourself. Chin hitting your chest as you watch Toji push n’ push the incredibly swollen base of his cock inside you. It was so round n’ red, about four times his actual circumference.
It sinks in with a lecherous sluuuuuurp—and Toji empties out a few more streaks of cum just from the sheer sensation of having his sensitive hilt sheathed inside of you. Isn’t that every bull’s dream? To have a mate as pretty as you, choking and overstimulated around his knot? Ready to take all of him until you’re pregnant-
“We’re mates now.” You’re still shivering from the shockwaves of your multiple highs, so overstimulated that you don’t hear his murmurs. Sobbing, you’re tugging cutely at his nipple piercings to garner his attention. “Wh-what was that, Toji?”
“I said–” Roughly, he pulls off from your lactating tits. Your milk drivels down either side of his greedy maw, “-that you know a bull’s rut lasts days, right, sweetcheeks?”
“Oh.”
“Guess we have a lot to learn…h-heh.”
.
.
.
Shiu was halfway through his drive to Tokyo.
Halfway through his window cracked down halfway, his dark hair playing in the breeze, head nodding in time with the beat of some early 2010’s pop hit that’d surprisingly managed to calm him down during his drive.
Sure, Kusakabe had completely ruined his plans and forced him to leave you unattended on the farm - but Shiu can’t help but almost feel grateful towards his friend.
After all, it’s not every day that he gets to go out like this - the life of a farmer sure was a busy one. And it was such a nice day out, driving along smooth and silent in his truck like this was almost therapeutic. He’s almost considering getting an apprentice or two so that he’d be able to do this more often. He really thinks he could find inner peace like this, maybe all those self-help magazines he grimaced at in convenience stores were onto something. A man needs time for himself, too, y’know?
Yeah, time for himself. Time to just wind back, enjoy the highway, just appreciate the beauty of the world, y’know?
Halfway through a drive of peace and quiet, when he suddenly realizes-
And Shiu’s stepping so hard on the brakes that he wouldn’t have been surprised if about five other cars smashed into him from behind right about now. And he wouldn’t have noticed, either—”I left the gate of the bull in rut fucking unlocked-”
Immediately after he remembered, Shiu had gone and done a (likely illegal, most definitely illegal) U-turn right then and there. Heading right back where he came from, he’d cut off multiple cars, almost run over some unsuspecting old lady in his haste to get back to his farm - Kusakabe be damned, his best friend could rot in Tokyo until the end of time for all he cared. After all, he was the one that caused all this!
Shiu made it back home in less than half the time it took him to halfway down his journey to Tokyo (he’s sure he ran a few red lights).
And he’s fumbling with the keys of his gates, forgetting his truck and sprinting right up to where his cattle hybrids were. All cooped up inside the pen, they hadn’t gone into the barn still - and yet, with one sweeping glance, Shiu can’t really find any missing.
So he almost dares to breathe a sigh of relief- before his eyes catch the placement where Kusakabe’s bull had resided. Where Toji resided.
And Shiu’s heart drops at the same time as his jaw.
It was empty.
Quickly, he’s suspecting just why the cows and bulls outside weren’t going inside the barn, and Shiu takes another look at his herd—fuck!! Fuck, fuck, fuck - there was one missing.
And he knew exactly who it was.
In urgent, jerky motions, Shiu’s throwing open the gate to the pen (this time double-checking to lock it behind him) and heading straight towards the barn.
The barn where he can hear the rustling of hay, where he can smell the saturated sweetness of hybrid pheromones, where he can see—oh, you on your hands and knees, with your pretty ass raised high in the air for Toji’s cock to plough into, his powerful body. You’re all sprawled out on the hay, saliva and milk splashing out of you at a constant pace. You mewled as he stretched out your cunt so mercilessly, again and again and again. The plump knot ‘round his base hitting your pussylips with almost painful thwacks!
And by the ribbons of miry cum that clung onto both your lower halves, Shiu was safe to assume that this certainly wasn’t the first round…
Shiu’s nostrils flare, and he’s realizing that this wasn’t just the heady scent of Toji’s rut - it was your heat, too. That luscious creamy smell that made his mouth water, and his cock twitch in his pants as he took in the sight-
BZZZZZZZZ—!
Thank god his phone was on silent mode- Shiu hastens to pick it up before either of you can hear. Though, he doesn’t think he’s very successful with it.
Because just as Shiu places the crackling phone against his ear, whispering out a quiet- “H-hello?” He sees that Toji’s smug, handsome head turns in the direction of the barn door. And he’s smirking straight at the other man as he claims every inch inside of you, Toji’s honed tip pinpointing into every tiny nook and cranny.
And if that wasn’t enough, he’s leaning down to grab onto your leaky tits- and squeeeeeze out a pure white stream of your milk. Much more than Shiu’s ever been able to tease out of you during milking sessions.
He was making his mate known.
Slowly, Shiu backs out of the barn without you noticing (though, you were so deep in the waves of your carnal pleasure, that he thinks it would’ve been impossible to get your attention anyways).
Only once he’s out of the headiness of the barn does Shiu finally manage to register the other man’s voice-
“Hello? Helloooooo? Man, where are you now-”
“Hey, Kusakabe.” Shiu speaks, still slightly dazed. Still slightly staring through the barn doors from afar - all because of a fucking gate. “Take the next train here from Tokyo- no, don’t worry about your truck, you can pick it up later. No, you don’t need the cattle trailer anymore.”
Kusakabe sputters, “Huh? But why?” At the other man’s silence, one could almost hear the moment that understanding sets in. “Oh man- oh wait, don’t tell me that Toji and that sweet cow hybrid of yours has-”
“Yeah.” Shiu grits, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Unrelated, but would you happen to know any good names for calves?”
A/N. YOU ASK AND DADDY PROVIDES (not child support tho-) YES I SAW Y’ALL IN THE COMMENTS-
Pairing: Steve Rogers x plus size female reader (Y/N)
Summary: Cupcake, that's the nickname Captain-Perfect-Super-Soldier-Rogers gave you when you first started working as his assistant. You think it's cute, sweet and a touch random, just like he is when he brings you little treats throughout the week. The small gifts make you feel appreciated and cautiously hopeful that your crush has similar feelings for you despite him being your boss. The women you work with don't understand the nickname or why he seems so friendly towards you while practically ignoring them. They quickly let their jealousy turn to outright bullying, their rude remarks focusing entirely on your weight which you are already self-conscious about.
Warnings: Low self esteem because of your weight, feeling self-conscious, feeling like you aren't good enough / pretty enough, being bullied and called names behind your back (unfortunately you hear them), thoughts of never eating again, miscommunication cause I barely use that trope and really wanted to... general angst but I promise fluff at the end and the jerks don't get away with being mean to you
A/N: As soon as I finished writing Bucky's Favorite Person I had a really strong desire to rewrite it with angst. As a plus size woman myself, I kept thinking the faces some people make when I treat myself to a snack and how self-conscious I feel sometimes about my weight. Thanks @cabingrlandrandomcrap, @siconetribal and @multyunervisesuperfan for letting me bounce some of my ideas off of you guys!
I hope everyone likes this! ❤️
Steve follows you into the elevator unsure if he's thankful its empty or if he wishes someone was there as a buffer between you. You select the floor the meeting is on as he walks past you, resting his back on the rear wall while he silently debates what to do next. The elevator ride is far too short for him to even begin explaining what he should have already told you so his mind presents him with an alternate way to spend your brief time alone together.
The super soldier keeps his expression neutral as he watches you, his eyes focusing on your back as you face the doors. You stare down at your phone, blatantly ignoring him as you scroll on the device but that only gives him more time for his imagination to work. Steve wonders, like he has countless times before, how you would react if he took a few small steps forward and wrapped his arms around you. Maybe would she let out that cute, nervous giggle when she feels me against her back or she might try to hide that she's blushing like she does every time I give her a compliment, he thinks, fighting to keep from smiling.
The elevator doors open a few floors later and two agents enter, discussing their plans for the weekend. Steve sighs quietly as he watches you shift closer to the side wall even though there's more then enough room. Your boss can't help but hate how you always seem concerned with taking up as little physical space as possible. It's almost as if she doesn't want to inconvenience people with her presence. He keeps this thought to himself despite wanting to tell you that you shouldn't act as if you aren't here.
The super soldier finds himself curious as to the origin of that particular behavior but he has a feeling you would never tell him if he asked you directly and he's correct in that assumption. You would never tell Steve that just this morning a man on the bus made it very clear to you that regardless of how much you try not to, you still take up far too much space.
The agents exit at the next floor, once again leaving you alone with Steve. Despite the elevator no longer being occupied by two additional people, you remain against the wall with your eyes on your phone. He watches you lean your shoulder on the wall as you bite one of your fingernails, suppressing the urge to take your hand. The super soldier frowns, his gaze lowering to the ground because he knows he's the cause of your anxiousness even though that was not his intention. The last thing Steve wants is to be the cause of anything other than your happiness.
The conference room is noisy when you and Steve arrive. "Looks like everyone's here," he says without looking at you, making you wonder if he was thinking out loud.
Most of the attendees are gathered in small groups throughout the room, discussing their guesses for the purpose of the sudden meeting. The God of Mischief distances himself as usual from the team, sitting at the head of the table with his attention focused on the thick book he's reading. You aren't sure what else to do other than follow Steve as he walks through the groups clearly in search of Bucky.
You cover your mouth and clear your throat, stifling a giggle when you see his friend leaning on the rear wall by the windows. His metal hand rubs his temple slowly while Yasmin chatters away at him excitedly. She leans closer and laughs at her own joke, her hand resting on his metal forearm but he barely cracks a smile. He looks like he wants to detach his arm from his shoulder, you think, biting back another laugh. Bucky looks up, his body instantly becoming more relaxed when he sees Steve and he quickly excuses himself from his assistant while she is still mid-sentence. She folds her arms across her chest and gives you a jealous look that makes you immediately uncomfortable. It's not my fault he can't stand to be around you, you almost say outloud, catching yourself at the last second. Honestly, it's not even me he's excited to see. Steve's the one who saved him.
"Glad you guys finally made it," he greets both of you as if he's never been happier to see anyone in his life. You let out a bit of the laugh you've been holding in at his reaction but it's cut short when you see Yasmin weaving her way through the crowded room to find Bree and Calla. Your attention shifts back to Bucky when he asks, "So.. how did your talk go?"
You look up at your boss, the anxious feeling returning heavily to your chest. Steve clenches his jaw and his eyes drift towards the ground in response to his friend's question. Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut as if this short conversation has given him a headache. Just as Bucky opens his mouth to either finally tell you what's going on or to yell at Steve again, Fury walks into the room and everyone goes silent.
"Take your seats," the director orders and everyone immediately begins moving in response, except for one person. Fury stands silently over Loki, his hands on his hips until the prince acknowledges him and closes his book with a loud thud. He removes himself from the director's chair, walking straight past the seat his brother has saved for him as if he doesn't see it. Loki's shy assistant follows him nervously, holding his tablet tightly and you frown knowing this one probably won't last any longer than the other ones did.
Steve puts his hand gently on your lower back, causing you to blush involuntarily as he directs you to where he wants to sit. You find yourself between him and Bucky which unfortunately puts you directly across from Calla, Bree and Yasmin. Bucky's assistant rolls her eyes at you as the three of them begin to whisper to one another. Calla puts her hand over her mouth to hide a giggle as Bree points discretely at your chair. You stare down at your tablet, They're probably talking about surprised they are I fit in these chairs or that I'm lucky everything in the Tower was built to hold someone as big as Thor.
You decide to distract yourself from the gossip your mind has created and shift your attention to Bucky, hoping he can shed light on why Steve's been so hot and cold with you all morning. You tap his shoulder and he raises an eyebrow when he faces you. "Hey, hi, sorry, ummm...," you mumble quietly as you try to get up the nerve to ask him while Steve is momentarily distracted with his tablet. "What was Steve supposed to talk to me about?"
He smiles at your nervousness and puts his hand over yours lightly in an effort to calm you, "Its nothing bad. Just relax." You nod, completely unconvinced as he moves his hand away. You sit back in your chair, the loud squeak making you suddenly feel self conscious as you look quickly around the room but the only one looking at you is Yasmin. She looks as if she's about crack a tooth from grinding her teeth so harshly and you realize she's angry Bucky touched you in such a friendly manner.
You bite your nails, keeping your gaze on the table but you look up when the door opens again. The hushed whispers stop as a woman in a dark blue suit enters, the director gets up to greet her. You recognize her from around the Tower and Fury introduces Ali as the newly promoted head of the accounting department. She smiles warmly despite only being met with confused and bored expressions. She begins to explain the purpose of the meeting is to walk everyone through the new protocols she is enacting, one of the biggest changes being to expense reports.
Groans fill the air, the loudest being from Steve which causes you to giggle. Tony gets up from his seat when she reveals the seminar is going to be roughly three hours long. Fury steps in before Ali has a chance to respond, "Sit down Stark. If I have to listen to this, everyone has to."
Tony sits down heavily, folding his arms over his chest like an aggravated child. "Isn't this why I have an assistant?" he grumbles, his reaction gaining an eye roll from Pepper while everyone else ignores him.
"If it makes you all feel better, I ordered lunch for everyone from the new Italian restaurant up the street," Ali offers cheerfully as a way to appease everyone. When no one responds, she decides to begin her presentation by lowering the window shades and setting up her laptop.
"Make sure you pay attention cupcake," Steve leans close and whispers to you, the tension from earlier momentarily gone between you.
"I was actually going to use this time to take a nap," you joke back quietly. "I know how much you love expense reports."
"I'll buy you a treat for every page of notes you take," he tries to bribe you with a grin as the first slide appears.
Your smile fades when you turn away from him, the memory of your coworkers saying he could pay you in desserts resurfacing swiftly. Biting your lip, you stare at the large screen and try to remind yourself Steve only meant that as a joke. He doesn't mean it, he never would have said that if he knew what they said yesterday... not that I can ever tell him about that.
You wince when your stomach grumbles a few minutes later, thankful no one seems to hear it over the droning speech the head accountant is giving. I should have eaten that stupid scone. I barely had half a bowl of cereal this morning because I was so late, you check your watch to see how much longer until lunch.
Your mind wanders for the first half of the meeting as you find it nearly impossible to focus on the incredibly dull, albeit very organized presentation. Instead of listening to Ali, you've used the time to make a mental list of almost fifteen highly unlikely issues Steve could possibly need to talk to you about. Unsurprisingly, not a single thing on your list is positive despite Bucky's vague assurance that it isn't bad news. His involvement in this whole situation has only added to your confusion.
The window shades raise and everyone begins to stretch as the presentation comes to a brief pause. Bucky makes a quick exit and you frown knowing you've missed your opportunity to try and get any more information out of him.
Steve nudges your arm lightly, pulling you from your thoughts and you turn to face him. "You okay?" he asks with concern, the room becoming noisy as several conversations begin around you.
"Yeah why?" you ask.
"You haven't taken a single note," he motions towards the blank screen on your tablet.
"Oh, I guess I got distracted," you admit but don't tell him where your mind was. "I'm sorry, I'll get notes from someone so I can help with the reports," you apologize. Good job, you scold yourself. He can never do those reports himself and now you'll be useless to help. You look across the table at the other assistants, wondering who you could talk to after the meeting was over. Surly not Calla or Bree, every time you lost the battle to keep from glancing at them, they were on their phones. You couldn't help but assume they were texting each other about how boring the meeting is.
"Don't worry about it," he says with a grin as he tilts his tablet towards you to show you his very organized and color coded notes. "This is new process is making a lot of sense actually."
His smile falters for a moment and your stomach drops when he doesn't respond to your joke the way you hoped. Typically when you say something to the effect of Steve no longer needing you, he quicky and adamantly assures you that there is no way that could be true. This time though, he remains quiet and your mind instantly floods with memories of this morning and the conversation you still haven't had. He really doesn't need me anymore, you can't help but think.
You smile at how proud he looks of himself, "Wow. It's like you don't even need me anymore."
Steve opens his mouth to give you a very delayed reply but before he can find the right words to confirm or deny your fears, Bucky returns. "Think it's almost time for lunch?" he asks, oblivious to the tension that has once again risen between you and your boss.
You shrug, lunch being the furthest thing from your mind as you wonder if you even have a job anymore. Sitting back in your chair, your eyes fall on your blank tablet screen as you try to convince yourself that they wouldn't have invited you to this meeting if you were being fired.
You miss the looks exchanged between the two friends, Steve giving Bucky a forced smile while Bucky shakes his head in disappointment. The lights dim as the shades lower again and you lift your head but you barely hear anything Ali says as she begins again.
Another hour and a half later the meeting is finally over and the much awaited food is delivered. The room becomes lively again as the Avengers and their assistants line up to get lunch from the long table set up in the rear of the space. You remain in your seat as you think about escaping back to your desk. I'm really not in the mood to eat around everyone right now. I always feel like people judge how much food I do or don't get, you bite your nails anxiously but then a different thought pops into your head. If I leave now, Steve might decide it's a good time to finally talk. I'd rather put that off for as long as possible.
The two super soldiers get up and you swallow hard as you move with them towards the food. Waiting in line behind your boss you clutch your empty plastic plate and look at all the delicious food. Steve fills his plate without hesitation as does Bucky and you find yourself jealous of their ability to eat absolutely anything and everything in sight. Walking past three different types of pasta, you reach for a piece of grilled chicken, a scoop of salad and decide against grabbing a roll. You make an abrupt turn back to your seat without walking past the part of the table that is filled with a variety of cookies, brownies and cheesecake.
Opening your bottle of water, you glance at your plate. This looks good but I'm probably still going to be hungry, you think, trying not to be annoyed that you didn't grab more. Bucky focuses on his lunch as does everyone else in the room except for Steve.
"Still not hungry?" he asks and for a moment you forgot that was the excuse you gave him this morning with the scone.
"Uh... no, not really," you lie poorly with a shrug.
"If you're still sick, you can go home," he leans close as the room becomes louder from the growing number of conversations. "We can talk tomorrow when you're feeling better," he says and you can almost feel how much he wants to avoid this conversation.
"Come on cupcake," Steve says and you feel yourself stiffen at the nickname and friendly tone. "You didn't even grab a single cookie, that's not like you."
"I'm fine," you insist without looking at him as you start to cut up your chicken. He's not concerned because he likes me, you remind yourself. He's just nice to everyone and right now he'd rather I go home sick than have to tell me I'm fired, your mind adds quickly.
Without thinking you look up at Steve, "What difference does it make?"
"What?" he shifts slightly away from you, clearly confused by your angry tone.
"Why do you even care if I eat or not?" you ask him, "Or if I have another stupid cookie or a scone or whatever else you keep bringing me."
"I just-" he tries to find the words to explain.
He listens to you in stunned silence then reaches to place his hand gently on your forearm. "Cupcake-"
You cut him off before he can finish his sentence. "It isn't any of your business what I eat, you're just my boss," you tell him in a harsh tone, unaware that Bucky and a few others at the table are now listening.
"I thought we were friends too," he says, the hurt he feels clearly evident in his voice.
"I can't eat whatever the hell I want like you and Bucky, I'm not a super soldier," you continue as if he didn't say anything, the words flooding out of you as your insecurities and bottled up emotions finally break free. "I don't need you bringing me food all the time, I'm not some little kid you can bribe into working with desserts."
"Just stop!" you pull your arm away from him and push your chair back, getting up quickly. He looks up at you but you don't look at him, your eyes move across the room which has become silent after your outburst. Calla stares at you with her mouth open while Yasmin and Bree whisper frantically back and forth. Without another word, you turn and nearly knock over your chair as you run from the room.
Steve stands slowly, completely unsure of what happened, his eyes on the door you left through. "Go get her," Bucky urges him, the words snapping his friend out of his frozen state. He slams the door open in his rush to chase after you.
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Summary: The mission was intel. But when you went dark, Bucky lost all control—and the code turned personal.
Disclaimer: graphic violence, captivity, non-consensual restrain/touch, implied sexual threat, psychological trauma, physical degradation, feral violence (Bucky), verbal abuse, violent confrontation, bloodshed, reader described as plus-size, TB* members appearance, happy ending
Word Count: 8,558
Author's note: I'm sorry for the dark theme. I'm at the hospital, drowned by my own unsafe thoughts due to my surroundings. I understand this would trigger many things so please, please scroll away if this is not for you.
Bucky had been tense ever since the mission briefing with Valentina.
You and he had been assigned to extract intel from someone out of his worst memories—someone from the part of his past he’d spent years trying to bury. And as fate would have it, you were going to be the one sent in close. Personal.
The cherry on top? No one else in the building—except Walker—knew you and Bucky were married.
It hadn’t been a deliberate secret at first. You both just liked the simplicity of it. No questions, no gossip. Quiet. Private. You’d meant to tell the others eventually, maybe once things calmed down between missions. But three years and numerous near-death assignments later, it was still just you, Bucky, and that worn silver band threaded through the chain of his dog tags; kept tucked beneath his shirt, close to his chest where no one ever thought to look.
Walker had only found out by accident—he’d overheard you both talking, low and domestic, about decorating the new apartment Bucky had gotten you. Being a married man himself, he clocked it immediately and, to his credit, had kept his mouth shut ever since.
But the issue wasn’t the secrecy.
It was the mission.
You were going undercover to get close to Volkov—a former HYDRA taskmaster who’d gone dark for years, now resurfacing through underground ops and illegal tech smuggling. Worse still, the tech in question was rumored to be more powerful than both vibranium and adamantium combined.
And Volkov?
He had a type. Curvy. Plus-size. Long, wavy red hair.
And within a heartbeat, Valentina had already decided it would be you—hair dye on standby before you even left the room.
Bucky hated every second of it.
Not because he didn’t trust you, but because he knew Volkov.
Volkov had been there during the brainwashing. Watching. Smiling. Not the man who gave the orders, but the one who enjoyed watching them followed. Bucky remembered him leaning in from the shadows, jaw sharp, eyes gleaming with control like it made him feel divine.
He wasn’t just another piece of the HYDRA machine.
He was proud of what Bucky became. Of how many he broke.
Volkov had chosen him to fight other enhanced soldiers. Had studied him like a weapon. Had whispered twisted encouragement while the programming crushed him over and over again.
And Bucky hated the idea of you having to flirt with the demon from his past.
He understood the mission’s importance. He really did. But logic had never stood a chance against this—being forced to stare down the man who once stripped him of everything, while watching the woman he loved play nice to get information.
There was no good place for him in this. No role that didn’t make his blood boil.
You noticed the tension winding through him as you both walked back to the common room. His steps were stiff, calculated. His jaw had been clenched since the briefing. He hadn’t said a word.
You knew why. You always did.
Bucky had told you pieces of his nightmares—never the full picture, but enough. The burn of restraints against his skin. The cold metal table under his back. The sterile sting of alcohol. And Volkov’s voice cutting through the silence like a blade, low and proud and amused. Watching. Always watching. Like a man admiring a piece of art that he thought he owned.
The moment you stepped into the common room, Bucky blew out a harsh breath. His eyes were distant, like he was already somewhere else. The muscles in his neck and jaw were drawn tight, veins standing out starkly against his skin like they could split open.
Without a word, he dropped onto the couch, his body sinking in as if gravity had gotten heavier. The worn leather creaked beneath him as he leaned his head back against the cushions, eyes slipping closed for just a moment.
Valentina wasn’t going to change her mind. That much was written across his face. She never did.
You followed, settling beside him, the fabric of your tactical pants brushing softly against his. The air between you still carried the faint antiseptic scent of the briefing room—cold, clinical, suffocating.
Your hand found his, and you laced your fingers through his metal ones, your palm warm against the chill of the vibranium plates. He flexed just slightly, like even that much touch reminded him he was here. With you. Not in that chair. Not in the red room.
“You okay?” you asked gently, your thumb sweeping over the knuckles of his hand.
He didn’t answer right away. Just exhaled again, slower this time, like he was trying to pace himself through the storm still building inside his chest.
“I’m not,” he admitted at last. His voice was gravel-thick, barely above a whisper. “But…”
He turned toward you, his blue eyes heavy with something unreadable—part awe, part ache. He took you in like you were the only stable point left in the room. Your hair still its natural color, your body warm and solid beside him, your expression carved with concern. Your wedding band, stacked with a few others, caught the low lighting just enough to glint—hidden in plain sight.
His gaze lingered there for a second, and then moved back up to your face. You looked worried. You looked like his, and that was what kept him grounded.
“But I’ll be fine,” he said, his tone softening just enough. He gave a quick glance around, then lifted your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles, lingering there like he could breathe you in.
“We got this.”
He wasn’t saying it for you. He was saying it for himself. To remind himself that this time, he wasn’t going in alone. That even if you had to play nice with the monster, it was your mission. Not theirs. Not Volkov’s.
He’d been fighting demons for years.
And maybe he hadn’t slayed them all.
But he’d survived them. And now, he had you.
That was all that mattered.
─
Your jaw went slack the moment you saw the dress that Valentina had personally picked—laid out on the bed.
Red.
Not just red—blood red, silky, and scandalous. The neckline plunged lower than anything you’d worn outside of your own bedroom, and the hem looked like it might start a fight with gravity if you so much as bent over. You didn’t even have to lift it to know it would barely cover your ass.
You didn’t bother hiding your disgust. “Is she serious?”
You turned toward Bucky, dress still dangling from your fingers like it might bite. He hadn’t moved. Just sat there on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the garment with unreadable eyes. His face was a perfect mask—stone-cold, emotionless—but the vein ticking in his jaw betrayed him.
“I can ask for another one,” you said, your tone careful. “Too sexy for a married woman.”
You added a dry scoff under your breath, “Not like she knows, but—”
Bucky cut in, voice low and rough. “It’s nice.” A pause. “Should work on him.”
Another pause—longer this time—and then, his mouth twitched at the corner. “Definitely working on me.”
You rolled your eyes and gave him a light smack on the arm, but heat curled in your chest at the compliment. No smirk followed his words, no leering grin—just that quiet, reverent tone he saved only for you. The kind of tone that made you fall in love with him all over again.
He could’ve raged. Should’ve, maybe. But instead, Bucky just stood up and helped you with steady hands. Held out the necklace, clipped the clasp. Watched you with hungry eyes but never crossed a line. You knew he was mentally filing this all away—every curve revealed, every breath you took in that sinful dress—for when the mission was over and you were safely back in his arms.
You stepped behind the privacy divider and changed quickly, tugging the soft silk over your skin. The fabric clung like it had been sewn onto you, stretching taut across your hips and hugging the dip of your waist. You stepped back into view, adjusting the neckline in vain, before reaching for your hairpins.
Bucky helped you curl a few strands loose around your face, fingers gentle, eyes tracking every movement like he was touching something sacred.
You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and froze.
The red was devastating against your skin tone. Your curves poured into the fabric like molten gold into a cast, the neckline dipping low enough to hint danger and promise. Your breasts rose and fell in time with your breath, almost spilling over the fabric with every inhale. Your hair was gathered to one side in soft, tousled curls—polished, sultry, lethal.
And in the mirror, you saw him.
Bucky, still behind you, watching. His reflection stared like he wanted to devour something—someone. Like he was holding back a war.
His hands found your waist slowly, possessively. He pulled you back against him, his vibranium arm firm and cool against your side, his flesh hand sliding along the curve of your stomach. He pressed a kiss just beneath your ear, the heat of his breath scattering goosebumps across your neck.
“So fucking gorgeous, doll,” he murmured.
You felt the soft drag of his lips as he kissed down to your pulse point, then the gentle scrape of his teeth as he sucked lightly—just enough to tease, not enough to leave a mark. Professional. Barely.
The urge to melt into him nearly overrode the mission entirely.
“Your necklace,” he murmured, pulling back slightly. “Camera’s built in. I’ll be your eyes.”
He passed you the earpiece—small, skin-toned, nearly invisible. “For comms.”
You nodded, slipping it in, but your hands trembled just slightly from adrenaline or nerves—or the way he was still looking at you like the mission could go to hell for all he cared.
He took a step back and made you twirl once.
The silk flared high with the motion, fluttering like smoke around your hips. For a breathless second, the hem rode up just enough to expose the curve of your ass—barely covered by the black tactical shorts beneath. A teasing flash. A threat. A promise.
Bucky’s eyes locked onto the sight, and a low, guttural sound tore from his throat—half groan, half growl. He dragged a hand through his hair, like he was trying to keep himself from losing it right there.
“Fuck me, doll…” he muttered, voice thick. “You tryna kill me before the mission even starts?”
You gave him a soft, steady look—part smile, part shield. “You ready?” you asked.
But it was really him asking you.
His fingers brushed your wrist—once, twice—like a final tether before the storm. His voice came low and sure.
“With you?” His lips quirked. “Always.”
─
The nightclub, VØLT, was buried beneath a defunct hotel in the heart of the city—a forgotten husk above, but alive and feral below. Coded entry only, shielded from satellites, and loud enough to shake the bones in your chest. The air was thick with secrets and sin. Shadows clung to the corners, pierced only by strobes and flashing crimson lights. Bodies moved like smoke across the dancefloor, heat and perfume curling in the air like incense. The bass thrummed like a second heartbeat, relentless, primal.
You walked through it all like you owned the place. Head high, hips steady. The red dress painted on your curves, your heels clicking sharp across the concrete floor. The music pulsed low and sexual, the bass vibrating through your ribs.
Bucky’s voice was in your ear—steady, low, grounding. “Cam’s good. I’ve got eyes. You’re clear to move.”
You didn’t answer. Just exhaled slowly and zeroed in on the booth near the back.
Volkov looked different, but not enough. His hair was grayer, his jawline looser, but his posture—relaxed, draped across the velvet like he owned the room—was the same. A monster’s throne.
He was smoking something sharp and spiced, the bitter tang of his cigar mixing with the scent of the club. It made your throat itch. His smile was practiced, sculpted into something that almost passed for charm. Almost.
He watched you approach like a man dissecting prey.
“Evening,” you said, voice wrapped in heat and silk.
He didn’t return the greeting. Just looked you up and down with a hunger that made your skin crawl. “You’re late.”
“I like making an entrance.” You sat, legs crossed slowly, the hem of your dress sliding up to reveal just enough thigh. “I heard you’re holding something I want.”
His eyes dropped lower. “I find that hard to believe.”
“You shouldn’t,” you murmured, tapping a fingernail against the glass in front of you. “I have the money. I want the weapon.”
Volkov watched you with unsettling calm, blowing smoke sideways. You could feel the nicotine cloud brush against your cheek.
“You ask for quite a bit,” he said eventually. “Trust doesn’t come cheap.”
“Then tell me what does,” you countered.
He smirked, teeth glinting behind his cigar smoke like a wolf sizing up a meal.
“Come closer, принцесса (printsessa). Let me feel what I’m selling to.”
Your breath hitched. Just a split-second delay, but it was enough.
The music felt louder now, bassline pounding through the soles of your heels, up into your spine. Your blood thudded in your ears, hot and slow, like it was being pulled toward danger. You could feel every eye in the room watching you, sizing you up the way he was. Like meat. Like leverage.
Bucky’s voice sliced through the comm, low and razor-sharp:
“Don’t do it. You don’t have to—”
“I got this,” you whispered back. It was the only thing you could say. You had to say it for both of you.
Volkov patted his thigh, thick fingers spread. His smirk widened. His gold ring caught the red light like blood in moonlight.
Your feet moved on instinct, each step heavy with something coiled in your gut. You slid into his lap like silk stretched over barbed wire—fluid on the outside, jagged underneath. You perched carefully, your weight held taut in your thighs to avoid giving him too much.
But it didn’t matter. His hand snapped around your waist like a shackle, possessive and greedy. His palm was hot through the thin silk, rough where the rings dug into your flesh. A predator’s grip.
Then the second hand came up—slow, deliberate. It skimmed along the bare skin of your back where the dress dipped low, each finger a cold brush of oil-slicked arrogance. Your breath caught. The nausea started in your stomach and crept higher.
He leaned in close, his breath warm and sickly sweet from brandy and smoke.
“Mmm… you smell like sugar and sweat. Dangerous mix.”
His voice dropped, coiled around your throat like a rope.
“Do you make sounds when you wear red like this? Or do you just lay there and kill slowly?”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You forced a smile, teeth aching from the tension in your jaw.
In your ear, Bucky’s comm had gone silent.
Then: a sharp inhale. Metal hitting something solid.
CLUNK.
You could hear it—his vibranium fist slamming the edge of a table, or a wall, anything to keep from tearing the comm from his ear.
He wasn’t speaking. But you could feel him—burning, locked down, seconds from detonation.
Volkov’s hand crept lower on your spine, fingers dragging over your skin in slow, possessive circles. He lingered at the small of your back, thumb teasing just beneath the fabric now, pushing boundaries with the casual boldness of a man who’d never been told no.
His breath rasped against your ear, faster now—he was getting off on this. On the power. On you.
“Such a soft thing,” he murmured. “You ever had someone ruin you just to rebuild you sweeter?”
Your body went cold. You kept the mask on, but your fists were curled in your lap, nails digging into your skin to keep the rage from surfacing.
Then he raised his voice, just enough for the nearby guards to hear. Mocking.
“She’s the kind that moans when you just touch her. Right here—”
His hand pressed hard against your lower back, fingers flexing, suggestive.
“—and she melts.”
And that was it.
Bucky’s voice cracked back through the comm, no longer calm. He sounded wrecked.
“Pull out. Now. I swear to God—”
“I’m fine,” you whispered, through clenched teeth. “Just another minute.”
But he wasn’t fine. You could hear it now—his breath was short, shallow, furious. He was pacing, maybe. Staring at your feed. Muscles bunched and twitching, jaw locked so tight it probably ached.
His voice returned, low but raw, like it scraped up from his ribs:
“You’re not a pawn,” he hissed. “You’re my goddamn wife.”
Those words landed low in your chest, sharp and full of heat.
You inhaled slowly, steadied your hands, and leaned in just enough for Volkov to think he’d won. Close enough to feel the heat of his neck.
“Dock 65,” he finally whispered. “Tomorrow. Midnight. Alone.”
You smiled, soft and slow. Then you rose—graceful but fast, sliding off his lap like a knife from its sheath.
His hand didn’t leave you until the last second, dragging over the curve of your ass like he had the right. Like he owned even the air between your bodies.
You didn’t flinch. You didn’t look back.
You walked toward the exit with your chin high, every muscle taut, your dress swaying around your hips like liquid flame. But your legs trembled from effort. Not fear—restraint.
Then his voice filled your ear again, low and ruined.
“Come back to me. Now.”
─
You entered the hotel room, hit by the a of heat that had nothing to do with temperature. Rage hung in the air—thick, suffocating. Something acrid and metallic burned your nose. The air felt charged, like a thunderstorm was caught in the walls.
Your eyes dropped to the corner where your shared luggage sat—shredded, the zipper teeth split wide like a scream. One of the hard cases was caved in, the shape unmistakable. That was the sound you heard through your comm. The clunk. His fist.
Bucky stood near the window, shoulders heaving like a man coming down from battle. His chest moved fast, his breathing ragged. The moonlight through the blinds glanced off his metal arm, glinting off the knuckles that were still clenched, twitching. His jaw flexed, teeth grinding so hard you thought you could hear the bone creak.
Then his eyes found yours. And the fire there almost knocked you back.
“Goddamn doll,” he growled, voice barely human, thick with rage. “I swear to God, I’m going to rip that fucker’s head off with my bare hands.” His vibranium hand flexed again, sharp and jerky. “I’ll carve his spine out and feed it to him.”
But you were already crossing the room. No hesitation.
You threw your arms around him before he could move again, before he could spiral deeper into that dark place. Your cheek pressed to his chest, the fabric of his shirt damp with sweat, heart pounding like a war drum beneath it.
“I hated every second of it,” you whispered, your voice raw and tight. “That wasn’t easy for me.”
His arms wrapped around you a beat too late, stiff and tensed—as if he was afraid he’d break you. You held him tighter, anchoring both of you. His body trembled—not fear, not grief. Fury. A possessive, helpless rage that had nowhere to go.
“Baby,” you whispered, tilting your face up to his, “shhh. Baby, look at me.”
He didn’t. Not right away. His eyes were still far away—still watching that bastard touch you, still hearing the way he spoke to you like you were something he owned. You knew the image was carved into Bucky’s mind like a scar.
“I’m fine,” you said, brushing your fingers over his jaw. “He didn’t get me.”
His eyes finally snapped to yours. Hungry, desperate, searching for proof. For any sign that Volkov had left a mark.
“He touched you,” he said, voice hoarse, almost childlike with the weight of it. “He fucking touched you. I watched it—I felt it, like it was me.”
“I know,” you said gently. “But we got what we needed. Dock 65. Tomorrow. He bought it. It worked.”
His hands came up slowly, cupping your face like you might vanish if he let go. He exhaled a long, shaky breath against your forehead. The scent of him—sweat, adrenaline, and the lingering trace of that smoky cologne he wore on missions wrapped around you like armor.
“We can kill him later,” you whispered with a small, bitter smile.
Bucky still didn’t smile. He pulled you tighter against him, one hand sliding to the back of your head, cradling it.
“You’re not bait,” he murmured, voice low and guttural. “You’re not some decoy for men like him. You’re my wife.”
The word cracked open something raw between you.
Wife. Not asset. Not agent. Not distraction.
Just his.
You didn’t speak. You just stayed pressed against him, holding his trembling body as he tried to cage the storm inside him.
His arms were iron around you, but the tension in him was raw, barely contained fury simmering just beneath the surface. Yet somehow, he held you like you were fragile glass—his fingers digging into your sides not to hurt, but as if afraid to let go, afraid you’d slip away. You wanted more than anything to let yourself be crushed by him, to be pressed into his heat so hard that every memory of Volkov’s filthy hands was scorched away.
You pulled back just a fraction, enough to look up into those icy blue eyes—eyes that burned with a jealousy so fierce it made your skin tingle. Your voice was low, smooth but thick with emotion, a threadbare mix of exhaustion, defiance, and need.
“Bucky…”
His thumb brushed beneath your eye, wiping away a phantom tear you didn’t realize you’d shed. You saw the flicker of guilt, the sharp edge of helplessness. But there was no brokenness in you to find, only fire.
You stepped closer, letting the soft rustle of your dress brush against his worn tactical vest—the fabric whispering secrets of where you’d been, what you’d endured.
The red silk clung to your curves like a second skin, a promise, a warning. The slit teasing open your thigh, the low back bare and vulnerable, but now reclaimed, like a battlefield you’d already won.
You reached up slowly, your fingers threading into the thick strands of his dark hair, pulling him closer—closer than the sharp scent of gunmetal and sweat that clung to him after every fight. His breath hitched in a way that made your heart shatter and heal all at once.
“I don’t want to remember him,” you said, voice a velvet thread laced with steel. “Not how he touched me. Not how he looked at me like I was a prize to be bought or broken.”
Bucky’s jaw clenched until the muscle twitched. But you pressed your hand to his chest, feeling the steady, heavy beat of his heart beneath the fabric, slow and sure under your palm.
“I want to remember you.”
His breath was shallow, erratic, like he was drowning in everything you were saying—and everything you weren’t.
You carefully removed your earpiece—the faint click breaking the silence between you like a vow. You set it aside, eyes never leaving his.
You slid your hands down the ridge of his collarbone, across the hard planes of his chest, tracing the line of muscle and scars that made him whole—the man you loved.
You stepped close, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper that barely brushed his skin. “You know,” you murmured, eyes locked on his, “when we were in front of the mirror earlier… I couldn’t stop noticing you.”
His gaze sharpened, dark and dangerous, like a storm about to break.
“You were so hard, pressed against me like you wanted to claim every inch of me. Like you wanted to tear me apart and make me yours right then and there.”
Bucky’s breath hitched, thick and ragged. His chest rose sharply beneath his shirt, muscles taut, pulsing with a tension that was almost unbearable. You could feel it—his need, his fury, his desperate hunger—all radiating off him in waves.
You lifted your hand slowly, deliberately, and pressed a featherlight kiss just below his ear, where his pulse beat wildly. The heat of your lips sent a shiver racing down your spine and made his whole body tense against yours.
His breath caught, low and rough, a sound raw with longing and restraint. His metal hand slid to your waist, firm and possessive, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.
You trailed your fingers up the curve of his neck, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your touch, the scar beneath his jaw like a secret you were privileged to trace.
Your lips hovered over his skin, voice husky with need. “I want you, Bucky. Right here. Right now.”
His lips crashed against your neck, hot and demanding, searing a trail of fire down your skin. His mouth was hungry, worshipful, each kiss a claim—a promise and a warning.
But then his eyes flicked to the door, the weight of the mission pulling him back like a chain.
You pulled away slowly, breath mingling with his, your fingers still curled possessively against his neck.
“We’ll finish this,” you promised, voice thick with heat and something deeper. “I’d rather die tangled in your arms than spend one more second remembering Volkov’s filthy hands on me.”
His jaw clenched, voice low and rough, trembling with rage and need. “You’re mine, doll. No one’s going to touch you like that. Not while I’m breathing.”
His grip tightened around your waist, holding you close as if letting go might make you vanish.
And in that fierce embrace, you both found a fierce kind of sanctuary—a quiet promise that no matter what came next, you belonged only to each other.
─
You’d arrived at Dock 65 before the promised time, hidden beneath the skeleton of an abandoned shipping yard on the outskirts of Salzburg. The salt from the sea clung to the air, sharp and metallic, biting into your nose with every breath. Bucky had come with you, shadow-silent and lethal, staying just out of range to avoid compromising your cover. His presence was a tether, his voice in your ear a steady heartbeat.
“This feels off,” he murmured, low and tight. “Too quiet. Too clean.”
He was right.
The plan was simple—classic infiltration: see the tech, verify it, grab what we need, then vanish. You’d done this a dozen times with him. It should’ve been routine. It felt like muscle memory.
But the silence was heavy. Not tactical—vacant.
You padded across concrete in soft boots, slipping between rusted containers and steel pylons slick with dew. Your heartbeat matched your footfalls—measured. Focused.
Bucky’s voice hummed in your ear again. “Back’s clear. But I don’t like how easy this is.”
You were already at the final checkpoint—a thick steel door sunk into the loading bay, blinking with a red biometric scanner. The security was laughable. Almost like an invitation. A bad joke wrapped in confidence.
Still, you knelt and worked the panel, fingers flying. “Almost in,” you whispered.
The door clicked. The metal whirled and groaned as it peeled open.
And that’s when it hit.
A sharp prick—hot and thin, like fire beneath your skin. You gasped, stumbling back.
“Fuck,” you hissed, stumbling back instinctively. You reached for your weapon, but your fingers fumbled.
Bucky’s voice snapped in your comm. “What happened? What was that—?”
Your limbs went liquid. Your knees buckled.
You saw the hallway shift and blur. Lights smeared into streaks. A cold wave swept over you, then nothing.
Everything went black.
─
You woke up to cold. Not just in the air, but in your bones.
The scent hit first—rust and sweat and old blood. Your head pounded, dull and heavy, like you were underwater. Every sound was muffled.
Then came the sting in your wrists. The raw burn of rope—tight, too tight. Ankles too. Spread just far enough that it made your muscles ache.
Your gear was still on. Mostly.
But it didn’t feel like armor anymore.
The sleeves of your tactical suit had been shredded—slashed open by a knife meant to scare more than wound. Your zipper had been dragged halfway down your chest, the thick material parting under Volkov’s probing hands. One shoulder was bare where the fabric had been tugged aside, revealing the flush of your skin beneath the cold air. Your belt hung lopsided—holsters gone, gear stripped like trophies. Gloves missing. Boots scuffed from a fight you barely remembered before the sedative hit.
The chill in the room clung to your exposed skin, humid and damp like sweat that didn’t belong to you. And those cameras—silent red eyes blinking from the corners—watched you without blinking. Recording every breath. Every tremor.
You were still conscious. Still aware. And that was the worst part.
Volkov wanted you lucid for this.
Your arms ached from being bound above your head—metal cuffs cutting into your wrists, slick with sweat and blood. Your legs were tied at the ankles, the chair cold beneath you, bolts secured to the floor like this was always part of the plan. Like he’d been waiting to catch you like this. Waiting to make a spectacle of you.
Of course he was talking. He always talked first—like the sound of his voice was foreplay.
“I told them,” he muttered, dragging a chair toward you with a long, grating screech that raked across your skull. “Told them you’d fall. Doesn’t matter how trained you are. Everyone breaks. Especially the pretty ones.”
He sat. Legs wide. Elbows on his knees. Staring at you like you were already bleeding. Like you were his.
“You’ve lasted longer than I expected,” he said, his tone almost admiring. “But it’s coming. The breaking.”
His fingers reached forward again—those same thick, ringed fingers that had unzipped your suit, that had ghosted down your neck when you were half-awake. The scent of cigar smoke and synthetic cologne still clung to them, mixing with the tang of sweat and metal in the room.
His knuckles brushed your cheek. You flinched.
Not because you were afraid. But because you were furious.
And that fury—white-hot and blinding—was the only thing keeping you upright. And Bucky. Out there. Closing in like a storm beneath your skin.
But you couldn’t let Volkov see that.
So you swallowed the bile in your throat, forced your limbs to sag like the sedative still held you. You let your eyes flutter, like you were slipping under again. You made your voice small. Weak.
Why me?” you rasped, voice thin but laced with just enough bait. “What is it you want, really?”
He chuckled, the sound low and cruel. “Why not you? You were on my list the moment I saw you in that club. All that attitude, all that strength. It’ll make the footage better.”
Your stomach turned, a leaden knot of disgust and rage.
Still, you kept your face slack. You played your part.
“You kill me,” you whispered, slurring the words just enough, “you lose what I know. HYDRA vaults. Weapon caches. Secure lines. Things your people couldn’t even find.”
He paused.
There it was. That flicker of greed in his eyes. That hesitation.
You leaned into it.
“Let me talk,” you said, breathing shallowly, trembling just right. “Water. Hands free. Just a little. I’ll give you something.”
He stood again—slow and amused—and crossed to a small metal table at the side of the room. Tools. Restraints. Maybe something sharper. You couldn’t see all of it, but you heard the clink of something metal. A chain. A blade.
You clenched your teeth. Not yet.
A drop of sweat rolled from your temple down to your jaw, and you caught your reflection in one of the black-glass camera lenses. You barely recognized yourself.
But your eyes—your eyes still held fire.
You could see it.
And somewhere out there, Bucky saw it too.
Because you knew. You felt him like gravity. The echo of his fury, the weight of it marching toward you. He’d tear through walls for you. And he was close. So close.
You just had to survive a few more minutes.
Volkov picked up something—something you didn’t want to look at—and turned back toward you.
“You think you’re stalling,” he said with a grin, eyes glinting like broken glass. “But this? This is the good part.”
Your jaw tightened.
You let your chin drop forward, your eyes go dull again.
But inside, you were coiled wire, stretched thin. Every heartbeat was a countdown.
You weren’t stalling for your life.
You were setting the stage for his execution.
─
(Bucky's POV)
He heard it—the faint pop of compressed air, like a dart or a silenced shot. Then a low thud.
Your voice followed, barely audible in the comms—one last breathy fragment before the drug pulled you under. Slurred. Straining.
“Sweet, sweet printsessa. I’ll ruin every tight little hole until you’re nothing but broken.”
Volkov.
That voice.
That fucking voice.
Bucky didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. Every muscle in his body locked, like a tripwire had snapped taut in his chest. The world around him went sharp and silent—no more footfalls, no night breeze, no humming electricity from the docks.
Then—
Static.
Your line went dead.
Gone.
And Bucky snapped.
He was moving before he even realized it—sprinting, boots pounding against the dock’s gravel and steel. The radio in his ear buzzed, someone trying to hail him, but it was just noise. White noise. Meaningless.
His blood roared like fire through his veins, hot and bitter, his heartbeat hammering so loud it drowned out everything but the image—you, helpless, in danger, with that bastard’s voice still echoing in his head. That threat. Those words.
It wasn’t just rage. It was something deeper. Older. Something that lived in the marrow of his bones, coiled like a beast.
But he didn’t lose himself.
Not this time.
No—he harnessed it. Focused it. Weaponized it.
The Winter Soldier was awake—but for once, he wasn’t in control. Bucky was. And that made him even more dangerous.
His metal hand clenched so tightly the plates creaked, servos humming under strain. He leapt over the low railing between two shipping containers, landed in a crouch, and kept going—his movements faster, heavier, more brutal with each second.
He tore through a bolted gate, didn’t even feel the sting of metal slicing his palm. Pain didn’t register. Nothing did. Just the map in his mind—your last known location. The building ahead. That thick steel door.
He saw it, even as his breath fogged in the night air—what Volkov must’ve done. You’d been careful. So fucking careful. But he’d planned for this. Had something in place. A trap meant for you.
The woman he loved.
His wife.
Mine. Mine. MINE.
The thought pulsed with every stride, every heartbeat.
He hit the access panel beside the locked door with the full weight of his vibranium fist. It shattered instantly. Sparks rained as he jammed a wire into the circuitry, bypassing the system with muscle and rage, not finesse.
The door creaked open—and what Bucky saw beyond it turned his fury into something nuclear.
Cameras. Chairs bolted to the ground. A metal table with restraints. Tools. Blood.
And your scent—faint, but there.
He felt his soul fracture for half a second.
Then he moved.
Fast.
Silently.
A predator.
He would tear Volkov apart piece by piece—not for the information, not for revenge. But for you. For every breath he stole from your lungs, for every second of fear he put in your eyes, for daring to think he could touch you.
And if there was a god—he hoped Volkov would scream.
Because Bucky wanted him to scream.
─
The second Bucky breached the reinforced door, the scent of blood, sweat, and fear punched him in the gut.
You.
He felt you in the room before he saw you—your pain, your rage, your heartbeat fraying at the edges. Something ancient and monstrous twisted inside him.
The air changed. He knew before he looked. And then he saw you…
Strapped to a bolted-down chair. Tactical gear torn open. Skin bruised and shivering under flickering light. One wrist raw where the rope had bitten deep. A trail of dried blood traced the curve of your neck. The air hung heavy with copper and mildew, and the blinking red cameras watched like silent executioners.
You looked up—just barely. Your eyes found him.
Fire behind glass.
Tears unshed. Fury held in trembling muscle.
Then Bucky saw him.
Volkov.
Standing just feet away, an iron rod clutched lazily in one hand. A SIG-Sauer P226 slung at his hip. His lips curled into a grin that didn’t quite hide the madness beneath. He hadn’t touched you again—not yet. But the look on his face said he planned to.
“You should’ve brought flowers if you wanted to interrupt,” Volkov sneered. “Didn’t know they let backup dogs run loose these days.”
Bucky didn’t speak.
Not yet.
He walked forward—slow, deliberate, methodical. His breaths were sharp and clipped, like drawing air through broken glass. A predator’s prowl. Precision in every step.
“You here for a trade? A martyr’s end?” Volkov taunted. “C’mon then. Let’s make it cinematic.”
Still, Bucky said nothing.
He moved until he stood directly between you and Volkov—shoulders squared, stance rooted. His left hand—vibranium—automatically reached back, as if shielding you by instinct alone.
Then—
He snapped forward.
His voice tore through the room like a thundercrack.
“This woman—” he roared, pointing directly at you, body shaking with raw fury, “—is my wife!”
The word wife detonated in the air.
Your head jerked slightly. Even through the haze, even through the pain—you heard him.
“MY FUCKING WIFE! Not your toy. Not your hostage. Not something for your sick little games.”
Volkov’s smirk cracked. It slipped—just slightly—but enough to see the twitch in his jaw.
Bucky’s vibranium fingers curled into a fist. The sound was like metal grinding on metal.
“You touched her,” he seethed. “You looked at her like she was yours. I’m going to make you regret ever drawing breath.”
Volkov moved first—fast, confident, stupid.
Bucky met him halfway.
He pulled his sidearm mid-stride and fired. Two shots. One aimed for Volkov’s shoulder, the other for his thigh. Volkov twisted with inhuman reflexes—the first bullet grazed his bicep, the second slammed into a steel support behind him.
Volkov returned fire—a sharp, calculated double tap.
Bucky slid sideways, felt the bullet nick the edge of his arm. Didn’t matter. He was already moving.
They collided like freight trains.
Bucky’s knife flashed out from his belt—a matte black combat blade, narrow and deadly. He slashed upward, fast, aiming for Volkov’s abdomen. The Russian twisted, caught the blow with his forearm—blood sprayed in a fine arc.
Volkov spun, boot kicking Bucky square in the chest. He staggered back one step—just one.
Then launched himself forward again.
Knife to knife now.
Volkov drew his own—shorter, serrated, HYDRA-issued. Their blades clashed, metal sparking, skimming skin and armor. The room filled with the sound of grunts and steel colliding. Bucky’s body was pure muscle and memory—every move learned in blood, every strike meant to kill.
Volkov ducked a slash and drove his blade into Bucky’s left side, just under the ribs.
Shit.
Bucky grunted. Twisted. Let it dig an inch deeper—then used it. He grabbed Volkov’s wrist and pulled, driving his own blade straight into Volkov’s thigh, burying it deep.
Volkov howled.
But he was trained. He didn’t drop.
He struck back with his elbow, cracked it into Bucky’s jaw. The blow rattled Bucky’s brain for half a second—enough for Volkov to sweep his leg under Bucky’s and take him to the floor.
They rolled—grappling, snarling, blades scraping armor and bone. Bucky’s metal hand caught Volkov’s throat. He squeezed—hard. Volkov gagged, slammed his elbow into Bucky’s side, but Bucky didn’t let go.
“You think pain makes you strong?” Bucky growled. “You don’t know pain.”
He slammed Volkov’s head into the ground. Concrete split beneath.
Volkov, bloody and furious, managed to roll away. Pulled a hidden pistol from his ankle holster and fired.
One shot went wild.
The other grazed Bucky’s shoulder, slicing through the edge of his suit.
Bucky dove low—shoulder-first—tackled him against the metal table. It folded in half under their combined weight. Chains rattled down like rain.
Bucky disarmed him in a heartbeat—knife spinning across the floor. Pistol kicked away.
Now it was just them.
Fists.
Steel.
And rage.
Bucky landed a blow to the ribs that bent Volkov sideways, then drove a knee into his gut. Volkov coughed blood, still fighting, still moving. He threw a headbutt. Connected.
Bucky’s vision flashed white. But his body kept going.
He ducked under a punch and drove his metal arm up into Volkov’s chin.
Crack.
Teeth scattered.
Volkov dropped.
But Bucky wasn’t done.
He grabbed him by the collar and threw him across the room—into the steel wall. The impact echoed like thunder. Volkov slumped, dazed, broken.
Bucky moved in.
Each step was deliberate. Measured. Deadly.
Volkov made one last move—limping, bleeding—toward a blade still on the floor.
Bucky stepped into him.
And drove his vibranium fist into Volkov’s gut. Deep. Bones snapped. Blood spattered.
Then came the uppercut. Vicious. Perfect.
Volkov flew backward. Hit the floor. Didn’t get back up.
Bucky stood over him, breathing like a war engine, sweat and blood dripping from his brow, muscles flexing with each ragged inhale.
He could kill him.
One more hit.
One.
But then—
He looked at you.
Your bruised wrists. The blood on your neck. The silent strength in your eyes.
And the fury softened—just enough to make room for control.
Bucky stepped back.
Grabbed one of the thick cargo chains from the floor. Industrial. Cold.
He wrapped it around Volkov like a vice. Again. Tighter. Again. Until Volkov’s ribs creaked and his mouth filled with the taste of metal.
Bucky looped it through the floor bolt. Yanked it tight.
Then knelt, voice low and lethal in Volkov’s ear.
“You’ll live just long enough to rot in a black site,” he hissed. “Every day knowing you lost to me. That you never got to touch her again.”
He stood.
Wiped the blood from his mouth.
Then turned.
And saw you.
Bruised. Bleeding. Breathing.
Still you.
And in that instant, everything else in the world disappeared.
—
The moment his eyes met yours, something in him shattered.
He crossed the room in a heartbeat.
“Doll—” His voice broke, hoarse with something primal.
His hands were already on the restraints, fingers shaking as he worked through the tight buckles with mechanical precision. The cold touch of his vibranium palm met your bruised wrist, and you winced—more from reflex than pain.
“Shit. Sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He flinched like he’d hurt you.
“Bucky,” you whispered. “It’s okay. I’m—”
“No,” he rasped, his gaze sweeping over you like he was cataloging every mark, every scratch, every tear in your clothes. “It’s not. Look at you. Fucking look at you.”
His breath hitched. Blood smeared his temple, a gash cut across his jaw, and the left side of his torso was soaked in red—where Volkov’s blade had torn beneath his ribs—but he didn’t register it. Didn’t care.
He knelt in front of you like a soldier before an altar, pulling the bindings off your ankles with a desperate kind of tenderness. Every time the rope gave way, he touched the skin beneath, thumb brushing gently across raw flesh like he could erase it.
“I should’ve gotten here sooner. I should’ve known.” His voice cracked again. “I heard what he said to you over the comms—I heard—God, baby, I should’ve fucking—”
“Bucky,” you said again, firmer this time. You leaned forward weakly, your hands finding his bloodied face and cupping it between your palms. “I’m here. I’m okay.”
He shook his head like he didn’t believe you. Or couldn’t.
“I saw your face when I walked in,” he whispered. “I saw what he did.”
Your lip trembled, but you forced it still. “He didn’t… get far. I was drugged, restrained—but I don’t think he…” You swallowed hard, bile rising. “I think he wanted to wait. To make it worse. I could feel it.”
Bucky’s entire body stilled. Frozen.
Then his jaw flexed, and a tremor rolled through his shoulders.
“I was going to kill him,” he admitted, voice like shattered glass. “Right there. Would’ve torn him apart with my bare hands and smiled while I did it.”
“I know,” you said softly. “And if you had, I wouldn’t have stopped you.”
His eyes met yours again—steel blue, raw. “But you did stop me, didn’t you?”
You nodded. “Because I still need you, Bucky. I don’t need vengeance. I need you.”
For a long second, neither of you moved.
Then he slowly leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. His blood mixed with your tears. His hand—metal, unyielding—cupped your jaw with a touch softer than silk.
“You’re my whole goddamn world, doll,” he whispered. “They can take the mission. They can take the tech. But they touch you—”
“I know.” You closed your eyes. “They didn’t.”
You sat in silence another beat. Long enough to breathe. Long enough to feel your body again. It hurt—every inch—but it was still yours.
And you were still his.
Finally, you pulled back just enough to look at him again. “Can you move?”
He nodded, wincing as he stood. The stab wound was clearly more than a graze now that the adrenaline was wearing off.
“Good. Because we’re not done yet.” You exhaled and braced a hand on the chair, pushing to your feet.
He immediately steadied you.
“Hey—slow. You sure you’re okay?”
“No,” you said honestly. “But I’m upright. I’m breathing. We came here for more than him.”
Bucky looked at you like you’d just grown wings. Like maybe you were the strongest person he’d ever met.
You gestured to the side door—half-open, dimly lit.
“Volkov said he kept it behind security doors. Tech that could outrun vibranium and adamantium. We find it, we finish this. Together.”
He gave you a long look. Then nodded, bloody and steady.
“Together,” he said.
And this time, it wasn’t a promise.
It was a war cry.
—
You settled beside Bucky, your fingers still trembling from the adrenaline, but your voice stayed steady as you pulled out your comms. The sterile hum of the damaged room was pierced by your quiet command.
“Val, I need backup. Volkov’s down, but his intel’s too valuable to lose.”
Your words felt heavier than air, each syllable soaked in urgency and the weight of what you both had just survived. The faint crackle in your ear answered with Val’s cool, unwavering voice—a beacon cutting through the dark.
“Copy that. Bob and Yelena are on standby in the city. They’re moving in now.”
Relief unfurled inside you—a fragile thread of hope amid the storm. Familiar voices. Reinforcements racing through the city’s shadows toward your location. A lifeline tethered to survival.
You glanced at Bucky, whose breathing had slowed, chest rising and falling like a war drum now beating for peace. Your touch found his bruised shoulder, gentle but grounding—an unspoken promise that this fight wasn’t over, but you’d face it together.
Meanwhile, Bucky turned back to Volkov, seizing the moment to inflict just enough pain to crack the enemy’s stoic facade.
Codes and coordinates spilled out under Bucky’s relentless pressure—every word a strike against Volkov’s will. The new tech’s location was now clear, an ominous prize tucked in a forgotten warehouse.
Without hesitation, Bucky led the way.
Your mind raced as you scanned the data, heart pounding in your chest. The place was rigged—dangerous. Lethal. But destruction was necessary.
Bucky moved with purpose, expertly setting charges that would erase the tech and any trace of its existence.
Explosions roared behind you, shaking the ground. The acrid scent of burning metal and plastic filled the air.
Back in the quiet aftermath, you knelt beside Bucky. Your hands moved carefully over his wounds—bruises blooming purple, cuts still fresh. You ignored the heat of your own exhaustion, focusing on him.
The metallic taste of blood still lingered on his lips, but his skin was warm under your fingertips—healing fast, fueled by sheer will and some stubborn human resilience.
Your touch was gentle. Deliberate. Calming the storm inside him.
His wild eyes softened. He exhaled. The tension in his jaw eased under your care.
Volkov lay unconscious, wrapped tight in steel chains—conscious enough to curse in his dreams, but powerless.
You met Bucky’s gaze.
And in that look, shared a quiet understanding:
The worst was behind you.
For now.
—
The low hum of the jet thrummed around you, the tension from the mission fading like smoke.
Bucky lounged back in his seat, that cocky smirk never leaving his face as he nudged you gently with his metal arm.
“You comfortable now, wife?”
The moment the word left his mouth, Yelena shot upright like a firecracker had gone off beside her. She slammed her fist on the intercom button with enough force to rattle the entire jet cabin.
“You two were fucking?!”
Your cheeks flushed a hot, creeping red, heat blooming across your neck as all eyes snapped to you and Bucky.
Bob burst into delighted applause, grinning ear to ear like he’d just won the lottery.
Yelena’s glare sharpened, her voice dripping with playful disgust.
“Seriously? You could do so much better than some grumpy, hundred-year-old man.”
She shot you a smirk full of challenge.
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the soft smile tugging at your lips, your voice low and teasing as you leaned into Bucky’s side.
“I’m too down bad for him already, Lena.”
Bucky caught your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your knuckles, his steel-blue eyes sparkling with a tenderness that made your heart thud painfully in your chest.
The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the sterile hum of the jet’s engines.
Yelena groaned, throwing her head back dramatically.
“I’d rather die than witness all this PDA shit in real life. Please, no more!”
Before you could respond, the intercom crackled to life.
Ava’s voice came through, shocked and high-pitched:
“Who—what??”
Then Walker cut in, with his usual dry edge:
“Is the cat out of the bag now?”
Bob chimed in happily, clapping again.
“Finally! Took you two long enough.”
Suddenly, the intercom blasted again, this time it was Alexei—loud, exuberant, completely unfiltered:
“YESSSSSS, AVENGER PAPA AND MAMAAAAAAA!! AVENGER BABY IN MAKINGGG!!”
The cabin exploded into laughter.
Yelena groaned as she slammed the intercom button once more, shaking her head at the glorious madness surrounding you.
Bucky smirked down at you, eyes soft but mischievous.
“Looks like we’re famous now, love.”
You nestled closer, hand tightening around his, feeling the rare calm of being home amidst the chaos of your lives.
previous chapter (twelve). series masterlist. the playlist.
chapter summary - all you need right now is space and time. shame the universe has other plans.
pairing - dads bestfriend!bucky x female reader - soulmate au
warnings - cursing. angst. allusions to a sort of panic attack/anxiety.
word count - 5k
authors note - tell a friend to tell a friend… she’s back!! hi babies. I can only apologise for the unplanned long absence - there’s a few reasons and they’re all boring. but I am so happy to be back here bringing you another chapter of honey and her honey. thank you to everyone that’s stuck with me and stuck with this series. I love you all <3
masterlist. inbox.
You wake to the smell of breakfast and the sound of someone breathing steadily into your ear.
Lacie’s wrapped around you like a koala bear, legs and arms circling you like she’s afraid you’ll roll out of bed. She’s always been a clingy sleeper, ever since she was a child. As a kid, you’d open your eyes to see her hand clasping yours so tightly, you were surprised she didn’t break any bones. You’d simply smile and drift back off to your dreams, happily content that she was always seeking you out, even subconsciously.
“That smells so fucking good.”
It’s murmured into the bare skin of your shoulder, making both of you laugh. The sound of your shared amusement is slow and syrupy, both of your voices coated with sleep.
“Morning,” you whisper, leaning in to rest your head on top of Lacie’s. “How did you sleep?”
“Like a baby,” she murmurs back, trying to keep the volume low so as not to disturb the peace. “This bed is so comfortable. Always has been.”
“I miss it now I have my own place. My new bed is okay, but nothing compares to this one.”
“Maybe it’s all the memories it holds. Makes it softer.”
You chuckle, shaking your head gently.
“Oh, yeah. That’ll be what it is.”
“Knew it.”
She stretches like a cat next to you while you rub the tiredness from your eyes, both of you adjusting to the morning light.
“What time is it?”
“Ten thirty.”
“I definitely thought you were about to say two in the afternoon or something,” she chuckles. “Also thought I’d be hungover as hell when I woke up.”
“Maybe it was the tea that we drank before bed. Or all the crying. Counterbalanced the alcohol.”
She snorts, squeezing you tightly as she remembers your conversation from last night.
“For sure. There’ll be science behind that.”
“Oh, yeah. Definitely.”
You’re both shaking with laughter when there’s a knock on the door, both of you sitting up in bed.
“Come in!”
“Good morning my girls,” your Mom half sings as she walks in and opens the curtains to let the day in.
The melody of her voice, the words she’s saying, her waking the two of you up after going to bed too late at a sleepover… it’s like being twelve again.
“There’s breakfast on the table, thought you might be hungry after your exciting night last night. You know, drinking tea on the porch at one in the morning, all that crazy stuff you got up to.”
She can’t help but chuckle to herself as both of you do the same, amused by the familiarity of it all.
“There’s pancakes, fruit, toast and cereal. And pineapple juice for you, Lacie.”
“My favourite,” she coos. “You remembered.”
“Won’t ever forget it,” your Mom responds, pinching your best friend’s cheek like she did when you were first graders. “Now come and eat before it goes cold.”
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Breakfast is divine - which is absolutely no surprise to anyone.
“You wanna stick around here today, Lace?”
“Wish I could. I’ve got a couple of afternoon clients, but the first isn’t until one thirty, thankfully.”
“You sure you can’t stay?” you ask, hating how your voice makes you sound like you’re six years old again.
“Sorry babe. But you know where I am if you need me. Pop by the salon anytime, okay? I could use an assistant.”
You laugh, both of you knowing you’d most likely be terrible at that job role.
“Thanks for being here last night,” you say as you grab her hand atop the table. “I needed it.”
“So did I,” she replies as she squeezes your fingers. “More than I even realised.”
“You girls want to join me today?”
Your Mom pokes her head around the door frame, looking at you both with a gentle smile.
“I can’t, but thanks for the offer, Lori. I’ve got clients later. But she will,” Lacie nudges you with her foot probably a bit harder than intended, giggling as she does it.
“I will, Mama.”
“Okay sweet girls. Have a good day at work, Lacie. Don’t be a stranger, alright? We’ve missed you around here.”
“I’ve missed you guys too. You’ll regret saying that - I’m about to be here twenty four seven.”
Your Mom chuckles as she leaves, the sound of it clinking off the glasses of pineapple juice that you’re both still drinking.
“Seriously babe. You need anything, just ask. I’ll be here, no matter what.”
“Thank you. You’re the best, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You never have to know.”
Lacie leaves in a cloud of expensive perfume and vanilla scented body butter, off to go make peoples hair related dreams come true all day.
“I’ve got some errands to run,” your Mom says as you’re standing at the front door, waving to your best friend as she walks down the street. “Be my passenger? I’ll pay you in coffee.”
“Let’s do it.”
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
All five of your senses are catered for as you walk around the market, soaking in all of the sensations. There’s mothers pushing their babies in strollers, elderly couples strolling leisurely, children running around buzzing with excitement. It’s alive, with sounds and smells and new sights wherever you turn.
The sun beats down, cooled slightly by the gentle breeze that whips around between the stalls. It’s a glorious day, not a cloud in the sky. It’s making you feel hopeful, more joyous than yesterday.
“Sweetheart, will you grab me some fruit from the guy in the corner while I get some bread? Pick whatever looks good.”
“Sure Mama.”
You part in different directions, making the journey towards the most colourful stand at the market. The fruits are vibrant tones of pink and orange and yellow, bright and fresh and completely irresistible.
“What do you have that’s in season?” you ask the guy behind the boxes, a redhead probably about the same age as you are.
He’s objectively handsome - freckles, cheeky smile, tall and muscular. He looks at you for a moment before holding out a peach.
“Right now is the peak time for peaches. I promise these will be the best ones you’ve ever had in your life.”
“In my entire life?” you question, hint of mischief in your voice.
“Want me to prove it?”
“Go ahead.”
He picks up a knife and carefully cuts around the pit, before tearing into the peach and handing one half to you.
“You’re not ready for it,” he teases.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
You bite into it, juice running readily down your wrist as you do. And as much as you hate to admit it - it’s divine.
“Say it.”
“Hmm?”
“Tell me it’s the best peach you’ve ever had.”
“Well then I’d be lying.”
His face falls for a fraction of a second before he regains his confidence like nothing ever happened.
“Confess. Come on.”
“Fine, fine. It’s the best peach I’ve ever had. In my entire life.”
“I knew it!” he grins, satisfied. “Knew a pretty girl like you wouldn’t lie to me.”
“I thought about it.”
“Oh, I know.”
He stares at you for a moment too long, taking in your features with his green eyes.
“Do you have a soulmate, peach?”
You’re processing the new nickname for a second when your Mom appears behind you, answering the question.
“Yes, she does. A complicated one.”
“Ah,” he laughs. “The best kind, no?”
“Depends on the day,” you smile, shaking your head. “Mama, we have to buy a dozen of these peaches. They’ll be the best you’ve ever had.”
The man winks at you before throwing some into a paper bag for you, along with raspberries, strawberries and oranges at your request.
“Thank you for these,” you say as you’re paying.
“Anytime. See you around, peach!”
“Oh he likes you,” your Mom all but sings as you both walk away. “You’re Tethered and you’re still attracting all the boys.”
“One guy at the fruit stall, not all the boys.”
“Sure, sweetheart. Sure.”
Your Mom hasn’t talked about your Tethering before. Neither of your parents have. It hasn’t been spoken about since that day your Dad was in the hospital. She’s mentioning it so easily, so casually, anyone would think that you’d all had a comprehensive conversation about it.
“Coffee now?” she asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.
“How about matcha? For a change?”
“Ooo, yes! I’ve heard that place on the corner does all different flavours. Clara at work had a blueberry one the other day.”
“Think I might stick to vanilla. You’re more adventurous than me.”
“Always have been,” she winks, bashing into you with her shoulder cheekily.
You can’t argue with that.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The coffee shop has a beautiful deck with an ocean view out back, perfect for sitting and gossiping with your Mom in the sunshine. The two of you catch up like no time has passed, patching over the disconnect that has crept into your relationship recently. You both know it’s no one’s fault - life just gets in the way sometimes.
There’s a pause in conversation, and you decide it’s now or never to ask the question that’s been on your mind for a while.
“Mama?”
“Sweetheart?”
“Why haven’t you guys tried to talk to me about the whole soulmate situation sooner?”
She thinks for a moment, carefully considering what she wants to say.
“Did you want us to?”
“No. Yes. Maybe? Honestly, I don’t know. But the three of us have always talked about everything, and now all of a sudden we’re silent when it comes to anything to do with my Tethering. It’s just unusual is all.”
“When your Dad and I first figured it out, I wanted to speak to you straight away. I thought we’d tackle the topic immediately, right? I think maybe I was a little upset that you hadn’t mentioned it - it’s such a huge milestone, arguably the biggest one in your entire life. And then Jack slowed me down, and helped me think a little more rationally.”
“He’s good at that,” you whisper.
“The best,” she smiles. “He figured that there must have been a reason that you didn’t say anything to us - that you were probably working things out for yourselves. So we kept quiet. It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to you, it’s that we felt like it was best that we didn’t until you were ready.”
“So you weren’t just… ignoring the problem until it went away?”
“There’s no problem in my eyes, sweet girl. Just two people going through something they’ve never experienced before.”
You take a deep breath, willing the weight you’ve been carrying around to be lifted from your shoulders.
“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner,” you murmur. “It’s not because I didn’t want to.”
“I know, baby. I know.”
She grabs your hand across the table, just like Lacie did this morning. How lucky you feel to be surrounded by such gentle, golden hearted women. What a gift.
“Can I ask you a question, sweetheart?”
You nod, urging her to go ahead.
“Did something happen? The last couple of days, you’ve seemed a little… down. And Bucky hasn’t been around, and it all feels… unusual? Like something’s changed, maybe.”
It feels like she can see into your soul when she looks at you, staring right through any kind of facade you try to put up. You’re begging yourself not to start crying again, sick of the sensation of tears falling down your face.
“We, uh - it’s a long story and it’s complicated but uh… where to begin-”
“Hey, you’re okay. If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. If you’re not ready, then-”
“It’s not that I’m not ready, it’s that I don’t even know where to start. I’m so confused about everything and I don’t even know how to even begin to put it into words that are somewhat comprehensible and I just… I don’t even know.”
The birds chirp above your heads, a million and one conversations happening around you on the deck as the two of you exist in your own little bubble for the moment.
“Give me the facts. Just the bare basics of it.”
“I don’t know if I know him, Mama.”
“Hmm?”
She looks completely puzzled, but she’s trying to stay focused on getting some cohesive answers out of you.
“There’s so much I don’t know about him. It hit me all at once the other day, and now I just… don’t know where we stand.”
She thinks for a second, measured and careful.
“What do you feel like you don’t know?”
“So many things. He never told me he had a sister, and then you and Dad mentioned her and-”
“Oh honey, I’m sorry. If I’d known you didn’t know-”
“No no, it’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. That was just the catalyst to me realising that I think we might have done this whole thing in the completely wrong order.”
“You know, there isn’t necessarily a right order.”
“I know that, but still. We’re all twisted and backwards now. Feels like we’re facing in the wrong direction.”
Your Mom rubs circles into the back of your hand with her thumb, keeping you grounded.
“You’re allowed to have a honeymoon phase, you know. Most soulmates have them. Some last longer than others, yes, but they’re not unusual. You’re wrapped up in your little bubble of love and excitement and sometimes confusion - it’s hard to see outside of that.”
“But surely there’s a difference between a honeymoon phase and obliviousness.”
She exhales her deep breath, sighing as she does it.
“You’re right.”
“I am?”
“Yes. You often are. Trust yourself more.”
“I do, I just… This is the one area of my life where I really do feel completely clueless.”
“And you hate it.”
“And I hate it.”
You take a long sip of your drink, looking out over the ocean and letting the repetition of the waves crashing against the rocks calm your racing heart.
“You wanna know what I think the solution is?”
“Tell me, Mama.”
“I think you need to go right back to the beginning, and work on everything you skipped over. Date each other again. You’ve gone too deep too fast and now you’re struggling to swim. So take yourselves back to the shallow end, put your floaties on, and start afresh. Not completely afresh obviously, but as much as you possibly can.”
“I like your water metaphors. Very fitting.”
She laughs all silvery and melodic as she kicks your foot under the table in retaliation.
“You know what I mean,” she teases.
“I do.”
“Good. The two of you need to get to know each other again - this time without worrying about getting caught or keeping the entire thing a secret. You can just be, now. Be completely as you are. No pressure, no worrying. Just you and your soulmate.”
You digest every single one of her words, knowing instantly that she’s right. There may not be a magic solution to your situation, but she’s found one that’s damn close.
“I like that idea,” you say eventually. “And if we both go into it with open hearts, promising to be completely honest, then we can’t go wrong, right?”
“Exactly. It’s all about keeping open hearts and minds. Both of you.”
“I’ll talk to him about it later. Or maybe tomorrow. Whenever I’m ready.”
“There’s no rush, sweet girl. Take your time.”
You inhale a lungful of the salty seaside air and take a moment to breathe. You’re going to be just fine. Both of you.
Your Mom stands up suddenly, grabbing her bag as she does it.
“I’m in the mood to wander around that street full of little boutiques around the corner. They all have new window displays in and you know I can’t resist.”
“Then let’s do it,” you encourage as you trail after her, almost running to keep up. “Retail therapy might be just what I need.”
“That’s the spirit!” she laughs as she grabs your hand to pull you along. “You are your mother’s daughter.”
“Always,” you grin. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Your Mom manages to distract you for the rest of the afternoon with hours of shopping and leisurely browsing, neither of you in a rush to be anywhere. It’s exactly what you needed - rare, precious time with your favourite woman in the world. Just the two of you.
It’s when you’re sitting in your apartment later on that evening that you realise the days activities haven’t cured your sadness - only masked it temporarily.
Suddenly, the walls feel like they’re too close, the colours surrounding you too vibrant, the lights too bright. You take a deep breath and dig your fingers into the couch cushion, willing yourself to stay grounded. There’s a ball of anxiety in your chest, swirling around and slamming itself into your ribcage, your heart thrumming nervously underneath it, fighting to be heard.
You need to get out.
You need air. You need the wind whipping across your face, you need the sea salt on your lips, you need the birds squawking above your head.
You shove your feet into some shoes and grab a hoodie, throwing it on and grabbing your keys simultaneously. Practically sprinting down the stairs, you push the front door open with far more force than necessary, striding down the sidewalk with more momentum than you thought you could muster. Your legs are carrying you where they know you need to go - even if your mind can’t comprehend where that may be.
You turn the corner, and feel the sidewalk change to sand beneath you.
Inhaling deeply, you revel in the ocean breeze rattling through your bones and the chill it brings. It’s a welcome feeling. You’re right where you need to be.
You realise that you can’t even remember the journey to get here. It’s as if the Universe grabbed your hand and pulled, dragging you exactly where it wanted you to be. You venture onto the beach, heading towards the cove that’s tucked away, sinking familiarly with every step.
You turn your head, and realise suddenly why the Universe wanted you to be right here, right now.
Sitting on the sand, knees tucked into his body, barefoot and windswept.
Bucky.
He feels your presence before he sees you, even from across the beach. His head whips around to find you perfectly on the first try, eyes locked on you standing too far away for his liking. But he doesn’t move. He wants you to determine this interaction. If you walk away, still asking for space, he’ll give it to you. If you run into his arms and never let him go, he’ll hold onto you. It’s your choice. Not his.
“Hi,” you whisper, sound stolen by the wind. He hears it clear as day.
“Hi, honey girl.”
You’re a hundred feet apart and speaking in hushed tones as if you’re right next to each other, the Universe doing all the heavy lifting in your communication.
“Can I join you?”
“Always,” he says without hesitating. “You don’t ever have to ask.”
You make your way over slowly, trepidation weighing down every step. You’re not scared to see him. You’re scared of what you’re going to feel. You’re scared your heart will betray you and you’ll crumble into him, that you’ll let him kiss you stupid like nothing ever happened.
Sitting on the sand a few feet away, you try not to get lost in the deep, sky blue pools of his eyes that are watching every single minuscule movement you make. You get comfortable, tucking your knees into your chest and holding onto them for stability. Mirroring each other absentmindedly, as always.
Both of you sit and listen to the repetitive crash of the ocean waves against the shore, soothing and grounding. It’s been the soundtrack to so many of your milestones, so many of your important moments.
Bucky’s the first to break the silence. You’re not entirely sure what to say.
“How’d you know I was here?”
“I didn’t. I got a little overwhelmed in my apartment and decided I needed to take a walk. Ended up here.”
“The damn Universe.”
“Yeah. Damn her.”
There’s an inkling of a smile threatening to break across his face, but he tampers it down, stoic again in an instant.
“Are you okay?”
You take a deep breath, considering your answer carefully.
“No. But I will be. Time heals all wounds, right?”
“Is that what this is? A wound?”
“I don’t know,” you exhale. “It feels like one.”
“And I caused it.”
“Not necessarily. We have joint responsibility here. I just…”
You’re trying to find the right words to explain yourself without making the rift in between you worse. You realise quickly that you need to be entirely honest - and if the distance gets wider, then that’s a necessary pain.
“You’ve upset me, Buck. And I can’t sit here and lie and pretend you haven’t.”
“I don’t want you to lie to me. I never do. No matter how bad you think it is, or how much you think it’ll hurt me.”
You nod, half in agreement and half to stop yourself from bursting into tears.
“I’ve spent the last few days debating everything,” you say with a shake in your voice. “I want you to know that no matter what… it’s always going to be you, Buck. You are my soulmate for a reason. I love you with every single fibre of my being.”
“I love you so much,” he chokes out, eyes welling up with emotion. “I wouldn’t want to be Tethered to any other person in this entire world. Only you.”
You nod again, chewing on your lip to try and keep yourself together. You feel like you’re falling apart at the seams, held together only by the clothes on your body.
Taking another breath as deep into your lungs as you can, you exhale it shakily before hugging your legs as tightly as you can.
“I think I need to take a step back from this.”
The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, but you know that they’ve come from your heart. You mean it - but that doesn’t lessen the hurting.
“From us,” you continue. “You are the only person I will ever want. You are my entire life, James Buchanan Barnes. That is exactly the point. We will be together for the rest of our lives - and I cannot wait for that. That guarantee of us, forever, means that we don’t have to rush. We can take our time. And right now, I really need to take my time.”
He nods, encouraging you to continue. There are tears silently falling down his face, and you can feel the sadness and the longing rolling off of him in waves. You want to squeeze him as tightly as you can and never let go, but you know you have to stand your ground here.
“I need space, Buck. Space and time. I’m just completely overwhelmed. I need to get my priorities in check, too. I need to start really putting focus into the bakery franchise to make it the best it can be. Stella asked me if I was alright when we were on the phone a few days ago, and it made me realise that if she can tell - from the other side of the country, and just by my voice - that somethings wrong, then I need to just… take a breath.”
“I’m sorry you’re feeling overwhelmed,” he says, voice cracking with the emotion of it all. “I know that a Tethering can be all consuming and intense on the best of days. And I think that I was aware that it was a lot for you, and so I tried to keep everything as chilled and low pressure as possible - which in turn, has come back to bite me.”
“Is… that what happened here? Why we seemed to have gone from zero to a hundred really fast, but I somehow feel like I don’t know you at the same time?”
“I think so. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought these past few days, after that morning on the boat. I hated seeing you upset and I hated that I couldn’t fix it there and then.”
You give in to your instincts and reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers and resting them on the sand in between you.
“I know,” you whisper. “I could feel it in my chest. All the sadness and regret and confusion.”
“I could feel it too - the betrayal and the upset and the anger that you were feeling.”
“I wasn’t angry at you, Buck-”
“You were, honey. And that’s okay. You were allowed to be angry at me. You are allowed to be angry at me.”
You nod gently - the slightest of movements, almost imperceptible to anyone but your soulmate.
“I think I was so worried about it all being too much for you that I started holding stuff back. Not in a bad way, but just so that I didn’t overwhelm you. Stories from my childhood and about my mother and sister aren’t exactly light entertainment most of the time. We were figuring stuff out, and I didn’t want it to get too heavy. I didn’t withhold anything on purpose, sweet girl. I promise. It just happened. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“That’s not the point,” you find yourself saying. “I don’t want to sit here and quiz you about your family tree and growing up in New York, Buck. It’s supposed to come up naturally, not because I’ve asked you twenty questions at once.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry,” you say at the same time. “I didn’t mean to snap. I think I’m still a little angry. Which I shouldn’t be, because you’ve explained yourself.”
“You’re allowed to feel what you feel.”
You hum, squeezing his fingers in between yours. You’re not sure who you’re trying to comfort, yourself or your soulmate.
The wind picks up, as if she’s telling you that it’s time to go home. You shiver, the icy ocean breeze whipping around you and settling into your bones.
“Come on, it’s getting dark.”
Bucky rises and pulls you with him, brushing the sand off your pants for you in gentle sweeping motions. He does it without thinking, so accustomed to the little gestures.
“Can I walk you home?”
You should say no, tell him that the space begins now and that you can’t automatically fall back into old routines. Instead, you say,
“Please.”
He hasn’t let go of your hand yet, very aware that he doesn’t know when the next time he’ll get to hold it is.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
No one speaks the entire way home.
Neither of you mention that you can both feel the big blue waves of sadness coursing through your chests, unsure if it’s coming from yourself or the other person.
Neither of you mention that Bucky walks you the long way, adding a good twenty extra minutes to your journey.
Neither of you mention that when he hugs you goodbye, he holds you so tight that you can’t breathe for a second.
You’re not sure why, but this feels like the end of something.
Bucky feels it too.
as always - if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are like gold dust, and are genuinely the only way to circulate your favourite fics - which therefore produces more !! <3
previous (chapter eleven). series masterlist. the playlist.
chapter synopsis - And throughout it all, no matter what - there was Lacie.
pairing - dad’s bestfriend!bucky barnes x female reader - soulmate au
warnings - cursing. alcohol consumption.
word count - 5k
authors note - to all my girls who have their girlfriends backs no matter what, who wipe their tears and fix their hair and tell them everything is going to be okay, who will always pick up the phone regardless of the time or place… this one’s for you.
masterlist. inbox.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
“Honey, please. You’re making me nervous.”
You foot stills where it was banging against the cabinet, the words halting your movements. You’re perched up on your kitchen counter, watching as Bucky makes you breakfast, both of you illuminated by the morning light. He’s shirtless and wearing short shorts that show off the tanned, corded muscle of his thighs, skin all sun kissed and begging to be bitten.
There’s an energy coursing through your veins, prickly and warm. You woke up feeling like this - uneasy and on edge - like a grey cloud was looming in the distance, getting closer with every passing minute.
“Are you okay?” he asks as he moves to stand between your legs, warm hands splaying across your thighs.
“I’m fine,” you answer a little too quickly, avoiding his gaze. “S’nothing.”
Bucky takes your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he murmurs. “I can feel your anxiety in my chest. If it’s bad for me, it’s gotta be awful for you.”
“I don’t know what it is,” you whisper, playing with his fingers. “Just woke up with this… feeling.”
He leans forward to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, lips warm on your skin.
“Get dressed.”
“What?”
“Get dressed, baby. We’re going out.”
“But what about breakfast?”
“We’re bringing breakfast with us.”
You stare at him for a moment, before nodding and hopping down from the counter. Padding across the kitchen tiles, you make your way into your room, your nerves too fried to worry about what your soulmate has planned.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The world passes by in a blur as Bucky speeds down the road, the steady roar of his truck soothing the buzzing in your bones. You arrive at your destination before you know it, coming to a stop next to a familiar path.
“Our house,” you breathe, looking out over the coastal plot.
“Our soon to be house,” he smiles, slinging an arm around your shoulders to pull you into him. “Thought we could have a breakfast picnic.”
“That sounds… perfect.”
You rest your head on his chest, listening to the melodic rhythm of his heartbeat to settle your nerves.
“Come on, honey baby. Let’s put down a blanket and eat while the everything is still warm.”
You get settled on the old, worn throw that Bucky keeps in his trunk, looking out at the ocean view that you’ll be blessed with for the rest of your lives.
“I may be the baker here, but you’re a damn good cook, sir.”
You practically moan as you bite into the sandwich, rolling your eyes when your soulmate can’t help but laugh at you.
“You blow up my ego too much.”
“Well, someone has to, I suppose.”
He shoves you in the shoulder lightly, chortling at your dramatics when you throw yourself backwards.
“If you’re done with the theatrics, there’s something I want to show you.”
“Fine, fine,” you relent, sitting up and finishing your breakfast. “Show me, Buck.”
He reaches into the picnic basket, pulling out rolls of paper and unfurling them in front of you.
“Official house blueprints. Got them all printed properly so we can mark them up and make adjustments.”
You run your fingers over the designs, trying to picture it all in your head. You trace journeys through the house - living room to kitchen, bedroom to bathroom, front door to backyard. Bucky watches you, gentle smile etched almost permanently onto his face. He wishes, for a moment, that he could speed up time - that the house was built and finished, so he can swim in the pool with you on Sunday mornings, stay up late watching movies on Friday nights, listen for your car pulling into the driveway after a long day at work in the week.
“I’ve been thinking about the little things, you know. That I’d want in the house.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You smile, all hopeful and content, and every worry Bucky has ever had vanishes into thin air.
“Tell me.”
“I think we’re - I’m - gonna need a pantry. If I try new recipes at home, I have to buy copious amounts of flour and sugar and all that jazz. I think a pantry would make everything a little bit easier.”
Bucky pores over the blueprints, pointing at a certain area of the spacious kitchen.
“We could add one here? Build the walls into this cove section, close it off.”
“Perfect,” you grin, leaning over to kiss him sweetly.
He rests his forehead against yours for a moment, allowing the warmth of your skin to seep into his.
“Also,” you murmur against his lips, “I was thinking that we should make sure the shower is plenty big enough for two people. Hmm?”
Your soulmate groans, closing the gap between you to press a kiss to your smirk.
“I agree,” he hums. “I couldn’t agree more, actually. Might put a bench in there for good measure too. You know, just in case.”
You can’t help but chuckle, pecking him again before sitting back to get a better look at the designs.
“As long as I’ve got lots of kitchen storage and countertop space, I’m happy. Everything else is a bonus. I could live anywhere with you and be happy, actually.”
Bucky’s looking at you like you are the sun, bright and blinding and brilliant. A couple of years ago, if anyone looked at you like this, you’d have shied away, shrunk into the shell of yourself to avoid the gaze. Now, you revel in it, soaking up the warmth that being the centre of someone’s universe brings.
“I love you so much, my honey. And I can’t wait to build you a house.”
“I love you so much. And I can’t believe you’re going to build me a house. I mean, how many girls can say that?”
You shift over to slot yourself into Bucky’s side, the heavy weight of his arm around you anchoring you to the present. Resting your head on his shoulder, you try to exhale all of your anxiety, focusing on the coastal view instead.
Your eyes are drifting closed when you’re startled back to reality by your phone ringing. You grab it and show it to Bucky, who smiles at the sweet picture of Lacie that lights up the screen.
“Hey, Lace.”
“Hi babe! Has your Mom texted you?”
“Not this morning, no. Why?”
“I just bumped into her in the grocery store, and she invited me over for dinner tonight. She said we’re well overdue a catch up, just like old times. I figured she’d call or text you when she got home.”
“Ugh, that sounds amazing. I’ll call her in a minute and double check the details, but… I can’t wait.”
“Yes, call her! I’ll bring both red and white wine, just to be sure. I’m so excited you wouldn’t even believe. It’s been too long since I’ve spent the evening with my second family.”
“And I’ll make you that cake you like for dessert, the raspberry and peach one.”
“Eeee! You’re the best. See you tonight, babe!”
“See you tonight, Lace. Love you.”
“Love you too. Later!”
You’re grinning when you press the red button to hang up, content with the sudden addition of evening plans. Bucky presses a kiss into your hair, happy to see you the most relaxed you’ve been all morning.
“You wanna join us, Buck?”
He tightens his arms around you, pulling you in so you’re sat in between his legs, back to his chest.
“No, it’s okay. It’ll do you good to have a night with your family, honey. Besides, I have like two weeks worth of laundry to catch up on.”
“Stop it. I’ll be having fun with my best friend and you’ll be… doing laundry?”
“Might clean my oven, too.”
“Stop,” you laugh, leaning back into him. “You’re making me feel guilty.”
“Well,” he hums against your ear, “seeing as they’re stealing you away from me tonight… how about we go sailing today? Promise I’ll get you back in time to get ready for dinner.”
“I’d love that,” you breathe, twisting around to plant a kiss on his stubbled jaw. “We haven’t been out on the boat in forever.”
“Then let’s go, honey girl. The ocean awaits us.”
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Being on the sailboat with Bucky takes you right back to the day after your Tethering.
Salty breeze whipping through your clothes, sun beating down on your skin, wooden boards creaking beneath your feet. Your soulmate stands on the deck in his pale blue linen button up, adjusting the sails with experienced precision. He’s the image of grace, like a statue made of marble carved by an ancient sculptor.
“You thinking about that day?”
You didn’t even notice he’d moved, too fixated on his backlit silhouette and how beautifully broad his shoulders look.
“Yeah,” you grin, propping yourself up on your elbows where you lay. “That was a good day.”
“Yeah, it was.”
He sits down on the deck in front of you, rubbing circles into your calf with his thumb.
“A lot has changed since then, huh?”
“Yes and no. We’re still just as clueless about the soulmate stuff as we were back then,” you chuckle. “But we’re happier now. Less afraid.”
“And we still haven’t talked to your parents about it.”
“But we will. Very soon. Oops.”
Bucky shakes his head, smiling as he does it. You move to sit in the space between his spread legs, allowing his arms to wrap around you and cage you into him. The two of you stay like that for a while, embracing the calmness that time has brought you.
You close your eyes, slowly letting yourself relax as the gentle waves and the anchoring of your soulmate ease your nerves. Bucky hums lowly into your hair, a tune that you can’t quite place your finger on.
“Have I heard that before?” you ask in a murmur.
“Maybe. It’s an old song, my mom used to sing it to us as a lullaby.”
“That’s sweet.”
The mental image of a tiny little Bucky all wrapped up in his blankets while his mother sings to him is almost too much for your heart to handle. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the melody.
“You never talk about her.”
“Hmm?”
“Your mom. You never mention her.”
“I don’t really have much to say.”
You contemplate it for a moment, before deciding to just bite the bullet.
“You know my mom mentioned something about your sister the other day, and I had to sit there and nod and pretend that I already knew it. When in reality, I didn’t even know you had a sister, Buck.”
You can feel him tense up behind you, muscles going stiff where they’re wrapped around your arms.
“It just never came up.”
“Never? In almost two years of us being soulmates, it never came up?”
Bucky’s silent - perhaps the most silent you’ve ever heard him. The sound of the ocean waves is suddenly amplified, filling the empty space.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, honey.”
“Anything. Literally anything. I just… why do I feel like I don’t know anything, all of a sudden? Your family, your upbringing, nothing.”
“Because it’s not relevant. I’m not just gonna bring it up out of the blue for no reason.”
“I’d say our pasts are pretty relevant, Buck. They make us who we are. I’m not gonna sit here and push you to talk about something you don’t want to talk about, because that’s not fair. But I also don’t think it’s fair that you know everything about me, and I feel like I don’t really know that much about you.”
You’ve turned in his arms, sliding back so you can face him from a distance. You’re expecting him to look angry, or sad, but instead he looks… guilty. Caught out, even.
“You know more about me than anyone else in this world does,” he says eventually.
“Maybe. But I couldn’t tell you your mom or sister’s names, where you grew up, any of it. It makes me feel like there’s a piece of you, however big, that you just don’t want me to know.”
“I… don’t know what to say.”
“Okay. Well, neither do I, anymore.”
The two of you sit for a minute, waiting to see if the other one has anything else to add.
“We’ve done this in the wrong order, I think.” You’re whispering, but he hears you loud and clear. “We think we know each other just because we’re soulmates, but we don’t.”
He goes to interject, so you continue quickly.
“We’ve avoided tough conversations because we thought it’d make things easier, but now they’ve come back to bite us. Buck… do you know how much we haven’t talked about?”
He bites at his bottom lip, gaze never leaving yours.
“We’ve not spoken about marriage, or kids, or any of that stuff. I mean, do you even want kids? Do you know if I do? Would you want to get married? God, did we think that by not having these conversations that they’d just… go away?”
“I- I didn’t want to scare you off with the hard topics too soon. You were overwhelmed at even having a soulmate, never mind marrying or having kids with one.”
“Yeah, but Buck… we’re past that now. We should be able to talk about everything, and we’ve just pulled the wool over our eyes in blissful ignorance.”
Bucky takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his windswept hair.
“I don’t have the time that you do.”
“Hmm?”
“Kids. On my next birthday, I’ll be forty. I don’t have the time to wait around, wondering and debating if I want kids or not. You can wait another ten years if you want to - but I can’t.”
The reality of that statement hits you like a freight train, knocking the air out of your lungs.
“I can’t be an old dad. A little older, sure. But no one needs their dad to be fifty when they’re a baby. Seventy when they’re twenty one. Dying when they’re not even forty yet.”
A tear slips down your cheek, landing on your thigh with a tiny splash.
“I’m not ready for kids,” you confess quietly. “And I don’t know when I will be.”
Bucky nods in understanding, careful eyes taking you in.
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, honey. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
In this moment, nothing anyone says will make anything any better. You can feel each others sadness in your chests, blue and heavy and constricting.
Bucky sails you back to shore without another word, both of you quietly contemplating. He drops you off outside your apartment building, the roar of his trucks engine the only sound that can be heard. You gently rub your thumb over his cheekbone where he’s caught the sun, before picking up your bag and unlocking your front door without looking over your shoulder.
You can’t bear to meet his eyes. You don’t dare to.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You spend the rest of the afternoon baking.
It takes your mind off of everything, at least temporarily. You throw yourself into the recipe you’ve made at least ten times, all for Lacie. This is her favourite thing you create, and you’re absolutely determined to make it perfect for her.
You place the final raspberry on the top of the cake, and burst into tears.
It feels like everything you’ve built - that you believed was solid - actually has cracks running throughout. You want to convince yourself that you’re not mad at Bucky, but you think that maybe you are. He’s made the conscious choice to never share parts of his life before you with you. Even knowing that he didn’t do it with any malicious intent doesn’t seem to make it any easier.
Taking a deep breath, you pop the cake in the refrigerator to keep it from melting, before making your way to your bathroom. The water you splash on your face makes you feel a little more alive, the coolness of it shocking you back to reality.
You inhale, watching your reflection in the mirror as you exhale shakily. A noise from your phone rings out from where it sits atop the vanity, a text from Lacie lighting up the screen.
-
From: Lace <3
Can’t wait to see you tonight babe!! Are you wearing a skirt, or are jeans the vibe?? Shorts maybe?? Send me a pic of your outfit <33
-
You smile as you type your reply, picturing her face in your head as she reads it.
-
To: Lace <3
No outfit picked yet - will let you know what I decide. Definitely not wearing jeans, skirt is a maybe. Made your cake though <3
-
You press send and hop in the shower, hoping that the hot spray of the water will wash away some of the tension in your muscles. Trying to turn your brain off, you decide to focus all your attention on getting dressed and ready, putting on some music and pouring yourself a glass of something fruity.
Tonight will be a good night. You’ll make sure of it.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You wait for Lacie out on the street, just like old times. If she was ever coming over when you were kids, you’d stand at the end of your driveway, too excited to stay on the front porch.
She tries to run towards you, but her wedge heels don’t let her get too far. She hobbles over instead, half hopping, half jumping to get to you faster.
“I am so excited!” she practically yells into your ear as she hugs you tightly. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“Lace,” you laugh, “I saw you last week.”
“Too long!” she declares, grabbing your hand and leading you towards your front door. “Let’s have the best night ever, yeah?”
“Yeah. Let’s.”
Your parents are overjoyed to see Lacie again.
“You got taller, kid?” your Dad asks as he ruffles her hair, much to her dismay.
Your Mom’s laughing, shaking her head as she pulls her in for a quick cuddle.
“You look beautiful, sweetie. Have you changed your hair? Is it lighter?”
“You like it? Did it a couple of months ago. Wanted a change.”
“I love it. I need to make an appointment with you soon, I’m well overdue a cut.”
“I’ll make space for you anytime, Lori. Just text me and I’ll fit you in.”
“Wine, anyone?” your Dad yells from the kitchen doorway. “Lacie, I know you’ll have some!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she teases, giggling. “But yes, I will. The biggest glass you have, actually.”
You grin as you sit down to your place at the dinner table, Lacie taking the chair next to you. She’s already launched into a story about a nightmare client at work, making all of you double over with laughter.
The stress leaves your body the more you smile, all four of you wrapped up in this perfect bubble of nostalgia and friendship and memories and love.
Just like old times.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
“We’re going for a walk. You girls want to come?”
Your parents are stood hand in hand in the doorway, looking at you expectantly.
“No thanks, you two go ahead. Think we’re gonna have a drink on the porch.”
“Okay, sweethearts. See you later.”
They’re giggling at something when they leave, the melodic sound of it hanging in the air behind them.
“You wanna raid the bar cart?” Lacie asks, looking at you with mischief in her eyes.
“Yes, I do,” you laugh, standing up and pulling her with you.
The two of you find a bottle of coconut rum, half empty but still in date. Your best friend holds it in her hand as if you’ve discovered buried treasure, face lit up with excitement.
“Let’s sit out the back, maybe see some stars.”
You get cosy on the porch, both of you curled up under a blanket to keep the evening chill at bay. You pass the rum back and forth, content to just be in each others company again.
“Remember when we were like sixteen, and your Dad caught us trying a cigarette out here?”
You smile at the memory, casting your mind back to that day you sat in this very spot.
“And instead of yelling at us, he told us that we were lighting it wrong?”
“And then he called us losers while he walked off laughing.”
You both shake with laughter, recalling the look on his face.
“I thought we were so grounded, but then I just felt kinda lame.”
“That’s my Dad for you. He’s always had his own method of parenting. And honestly? It’s worked pretty good so far.”
Lacie looks at you with a measured gaze before taking your hand in hers.
“Have you guys talked to your parents yet? About everything?”
“No,” you reply a little too quickly, bottom lip wobbling. “Not yet.”
“Hey, hey.”
She scoots over so she’s practically sitting in your lap, legs tangled with yours under the throw as she slings an arm around your shoulders to pull you close.
“Babe, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
You didn’t realise you were until she said it, now feeling the warm tears drip down your face. There’s a lump in your throat that you can’t seem to get rid of, and you wonder momentarily if it’s your sadness or Bucky’s.
“Me and Bucky had a bad day.”
“What happened?”
Her fingers are rubbing gentle patterns into the skin of your shoulder, her soft eyes watching you encouragingly. She’s always been the most patient person with you - as if she knows you’ll tell her everything eventually, even if it takes you a while.
“I just had this - this, this sudden realisation? That I don’t feel like I actually know that much about him, or his past, or his family. And when I said this to him, everything got weird and tense and he was all closed off.”
“Did you ask why? Why he hasn’t shared this stuff with you?”
“Yeah,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “He told me he just didn’t have much to say.”
“Well that’s not really an answer.”
“Exactly. Am I being crazy? You’d tell me if I was being crazy, right?”
“Of course I’d tell you, you know I would. And you’re not being crazy. He’s so involved with your family, so why shouldn’t you at least know a little about his?”
“This is what I mean,” you breathe, relieved that someone finally understands. “He’s purposefully never mentioned his parents, or his upbringing. You know I only found out he has a sister last week?”
“Woah. That’s… that’s kind of a big deal.”
“I just don’t know if he could see it from my point of view when we talked about it today. And I didn’t want to push and push just in case I pushed too far, because that isn’t fair and he wouldn’t do that to me. But at the same time… sometimes he closes himself off, whether he realises it or not.”
She squeezes you tightly, reassuring you with a simple gesture.
“I love you. You know that babe, don’t you? Even if we don’t see each other as much as we used to. I love you more than anything.”
She’s only making you cry harder, a mixture of happy and sad tears.
“I know, Lace. I love you so much.”
She rests her head atop yours, hands and hearts intertwined on the back porch.
“I just…” you take a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. “I’m sad. And I’m angry. I’m angry that this is the hand I’ve been dealt. Not Bucky - never Bucky - God he’s the best soulmate I ever could have asked for. But I’m mad that we’ve had it so hard. Soulmates are supposed to be easy and simple and written in the stars and all I’ve felt is stress because our Tethering is so complicated.
I feel so uncertain of the future and who I am and who I want to be. And I never used to feel that way, but Bucky has changed everything. I love him so much, and that has altered my entire life and my entire future and the way I look at and think about the world.
I guess I’m just sad, at the end of it all. Because this should have been a magical honeymoon period for us, and instead it was filled with so much worry and hiding and confusion. And how is that fair? Why do some people have it easy, and others don’t?”
Lacie takes your face in her hands, forcing you to look into her big green eyes.
“Listen to me, babe. Nothing worth having ever comes easy.”
You’re expecting her to continue, but she doesn’t. She just watches you process, thumbs wiping away the tears on your cheeks.
“Nothing. Worth. Having. Ever. Comes. Easy.”
You’re nodding, letting her words sink in.
“You’ve been dealt a tough hand. You’re right. But when has that ever gotten you down before? You’ve always picked yourself up, dusted yourself off, and kept going. It’s one of the things I love the most about you.”
A ghost of a smile threatens to take over your face, and she laughs.
“It’s true. And it’s not going to solve itself overnight. It’s going to require a lot of talking, a lot of listening, and a lot of patience. But the two of you will do it. Because you’re soulmates, and you’re meant to be. Literally.
Have some time apart, put a little space between you. And then come back together and work through this. It’ll do you both some good to take a step back and look at everything from a different perspective in a few days. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you breathe, tucking her hair behind her ear so it stops blowing into her face. “Yeah.”
“And you know where I am if you need to talk or rant or scream or cry or all of the above.”
“Always,” you chuckle, resting your head on her shoulder. “Love you.”
“Love you.”
The two of you abandon the rum, instead choosing to make some tea to drink out on the porch. You watch the stars for hours, just like you did when you were kids.
“You wanna have a sleepover tonight?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. If Cameron doesn’t mind.”
“He won’t, don’t worry. I’d love to.”
Your Mom and Dad watch through the kitchen window, as the two girls who were once four years old running around the garden are now grown women, sitting out on the bench and holding hands like they used to.
They’d pause time, if they could. Just for a moment.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You feel like giggly teenagers when you both snuggle up under your blankets in bed, the light of the moon casting shadows across your features.
You’re all tucked up, facing each other and whispering in the dark. These would be your favourite nights when you were kids, especially during the summer. The promise of no school tomorrow, staying up and sharing secrets until the early hours of the morning, trying to keep your voices down so your parents didn’t hear. You didn’t realise how much you’d missed it until now.
Lacie moves a piece of hair away from your face, her manicured nails against your skin making you shiver. She reaches for your hand under the duvet, linking your fingers firmly.
“You know, I was never worried about meeting my soulmate,” she murmurs into the dusk. “I was always excited, but never worried.”
“You weren’t? How come?”
“Because I’ve had a soulmate since I was four years old. And she is the most important thing I have. Even if I never met my romantic soulmate, I would have been okay - because I know what true love is.”
A tear slips down your cheek and onto your pillow as you shuffle sideways, resting your head on her shoulder.
“I’m so lucky,” you sniffle. “And emotional. I think the rum has gone to our heads.”
Your best friend laughs a little too loud, both of you trying to muffle the sound with your hands.
“I’ve always been a teary drunk,” she chuckles, squeezing your fingers. “Before we both fall asleep because the wine has hit us, let me just say that I’m proud of you. Going to California, having the courage to come back, opening yourself up to Bucky… all of it. You guys will be just fine.”
“Yeah, we will. I couldn’t have done any of it without you, though.”
“We make a good team,” she grins.
“We always have. We’ve had twenty years of being a good team.”
“Here’s to twenty more,” she whispers, pressing a kiss into your hair.
“And twenty more after that,” you whisper back, snuggling into her.
You fall asleep like that, still tangled and clutching each other’s hands like you’re children again. You can almost feel the love in the room, all warm and soft and glowing.
No matter what happens… you’ve known what true love was since you were four years old. And that is something that no Tethering can replicate.
previous chapter (10). series masterlist. the playlist.
chapter synopsis - There’s no denying it anymore - not that you’d want to. You and Bucky fit together in every sense of the word.
pairing - dads bestfriend!bucky barnes x female reader - soulmate au
warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. harassment, and then conversations surrounding past incidents of harassment. bucky calls reader a whore (not viciously).
word count - 5.3k
authors note - this is a long one!! I got a bit carried away with the smut, but honestly… it was a little overdue. I needed bucky and honey to get a little down and dirty sometime soon, and there’s no time like the present. as always - your love and support is invaluable to me, and i’d be nowhere without it. love you <3
as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3
masterlist. inbox.
Your hips sway gently to the music that plays as you watch your own reflection in the mirror. Sweeping a makeup brush across your cheeks, you laugh as Bucky presses open mouthed kisses to your bare shoulder.
“Getting ready takes ten times longer when you’re here, you know.”
Your soulmate laughs, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling your back into his chest as he sways with you.
“You love it,” he murmurs into your ear. “You got a lifetime of this, honey. Get used to it.”
“God help me,” you giggle, squealing as he pinches your side. “I’m never going to get anywhere on time ever again, am I?”
“Worth it though.”
He winks at you in the mirror, and you can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head. Spinning in his arms, you lean up to press a lingering kiss to his lips.
“Luckily for you, Lacie is the worst person at being on time. I actually don’t think she’s been punctual to anything, ever. You have to tell her six if you want her to be there at eight.”
“I like her more every time you tell another story.”
“I feel like I should warn you.”
“Uh oh.”
You fight back the smile threatening to take over your face.
“She means well. She’s got a heart of gold, and good intentions always. She’s just… blunt, sometimes. She doesn’t mess around, or avoid the tough conversations. She’ll always tell you exactly how it is. And sometimes that can come across as rudeness, or that she’s a little… prickly? But she’s not, I promise.”
“Hey,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I get it. And I trust your judgement, always. You’re a good judge of character - I’ve never doubted that. She loves you and she wants to protect you, and so do I. I think you’ll find we have a lot more in common than you think.”
“I hope so. This is kind of a huge deal for me. And the more I think about it, the more worried I get.”
“Worried about what, honey?”
Bucky leans back against your dresser, using his hands on your hips to keep you against his front. You tilt into his body, resting your head on his chest.
“That you won’t like each other, or something. Which is stupid, I know. But the two of you mean so much to me, and I can’t lose either of you, and I just…”
“You’re spiralling.”
You exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding, wrapping your arms around his middle.
“Yeah.”
“We’re gonna have a fun night, okay? If you put too much pressure on it, it’ll crumble under its own weight. Just breathe, baby. It’s dinner and drinks. Nothing you haven’t done before.”
“Dinner and drinks.”
“Exactly. Thankfully, actually, because I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving.”
“You know me so well.”
He chuckles as he leans down to press a sweet kiss to your lips. It ruins what was left of your lip gloss, but you don’t mind.
“It’s us against the world, remember? That includes double dates.”
You shake your head, scoffing as you break away to pull your shoes onto your feet. Taking a step back, you check your reflection in the mirror, not missing the way Bucky’s eyes follow the shape of your body all the way down and back up again.
“Quit that.”
“Quit what?”
“That, Barnes.”
“What, honey girl?”
“You’re insufferable.”
“You love it.”
You grab your purse and your jacket, giving him a once over to make sure he’s ready.
“We need to go. We actually should have left about ten minutes ago, but someone couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.”
“You want an encore?”
He lurches forward, fingers digging into your sides as you thrash in his hold. Your knees buckle as the tickling continues, punching at his biceps to get him to stop. You finally break away, panting as you keep him at arms length.
“Pull that shit again and I will kill you, James. You hear me?”
“I’m so scared,” he jokes, laughing infectiously.
You grin as you push him out of the door, shaking your head as you do it.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The restaurant Lacie has picked is perfect.
It’s a place the two of you have been to many times - intimate but not too quiet. It’s all candlelight and real wood and big, open windows. You can hear the sound of chatter and laughter from down the street, warm and inviting.
A wave of nostalgia overcomes you as you stand on the sidewalk and wait for your best friend. You spent your 21st birthday here with Lacie, getting drunk on sweet cherry cocktails and dipping pieces of fresh bread in olive oil to soak up the alcohol. The entire night consisted of giggling and gossiping, until you’d wobbled home in your high heels, hands tightly clasped together just like when you were kids. You both fell asleep tangled in Lacie’s pink ruffled bedsheets, cuddled up and wearing your old matching Looney Tunes pyjamas.
“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?” Bucky asks, swinging an arm around your shoulders.
“Just thinking about all the nights me and Lacie have spent here. We’d always order the Cocktail of the Day, no matter what it was. Sometimes it was the best thing we’d ever drank, sometimes it was so vile we’d down it in one to get it over with.”
He laughs all deep and hearty, the sound vibrating through you where you’re pressed into his side. You’re looking down the street when you hear a shout from the opposite direction.
“Is that my bestie and her soulmate I see? Looking hot as ever?”
“Yeah, baby!”
You start walking towards her voice, grinning as you go. She holds out her arms, bracing herself when you run into them.
Lacie hugs you like she hasn’t seen you in years - and honestly, it kind of feels like it. She squeezes you as tightly as she can, cutting off your oxygen supply. You don’t mind one bit, squeezing her back just as tightly.
You hook your chin over her shoulder to see Bucky and Cameron shaking each other’s hands, going through first meeting formalities. Breaking away from Lacie, you pull her soulmate into a friendly hug that he reciprocates eagerly.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” he smiles, linking his hand with Lacie’s as if he’s scared to be apart from her for too long.
“I’ve heard so much about you!” you repeat, leaning into the warmth of Bucky’s hand on the small of your back.
“It’s true, she has. Probably too much,” Lacie laughs, guiding you all to the hostess at the front door.
You’re seated outside, on the terrace with a gorgeous view of the coastline. It’s breezy but not windy, warm but not hot. It’s perfect. The sun is starting to begin its slow descent, and the orange glow lights up Bucky like he’s a heavenly being, some sort of celestial creature. It’s hard to read the drinks menu when all you want to do is stare at your soulmate for hours on end.
“Babe… shall we get a cocktail of the day?”
“You remembered!”
“Of course I did,” your best friend giggles, kicking your shin under the table. “Remember that one that was full of rose petals, and we kept accidentally eating them?”
“Or the one with the sour sugar on the rim? Must have been the most sour thing I’ve ever tried.”
“This isn’t filling me with hope,” Cameron chuckles, setting down his menu to put his trust in Lacie anyway.
The waitress brings over four pink cocktails in rocks glasses, popping straws in them when she reaches the table.
“Cherry and lemon,” she informs you. “It’s delicious.”
She’s right. It’s definitely one of the, if not the best cocktail you’ve ever had in this place - a million times better than the rose petal one. When you’ve all ordered your food, conversation turns to the elephant in the room. Soulmates.
“So you guys were strangers, right?” Bucky asks the two people across from you.
They both instantly light up, ecstatic to be able to tell their story.
“Complete strangers. We’d never met each other in our lives. I walked into the gym as usual, and there he was. All gorgeous and tanned and tattooed and muscled.”
They interlink their fingers, beaming at each other.
“I could see it all instantly,” Cameron takes over. “Living together, marriage, kids, the rest of our lives. It was like a vision, this prediction of what’s to come on a big screen in my mind.”
He leans in to kiss Lacie, all tender and so full of love. Anyone within a fifty mile radius can feel their connection.
“So, Lacie said you guys already knew each other?”
You knew this line of questioning would happen sooner or later, but you didn’t realise just how nervous it’d make you feel. Bucky senses your anxiety instantly, wrapping his fingers around yours under the table. His thumb rubs gentle circles into the back of your hand, the familiar and comforting motion calming you down easily.
“Uh, yeah. We’d known each other for a few years. He’s my dad’s best friend.”
“Oh, shit. I mean Lacie explained back when you told her, but that’s so… complicated. How did your parents take it?”
“We… don’t know,” Bucky explains. “We haven’t exactly had that conversation yet.”
“But you guys have been soulmates for like two years, right?”
“It’s been complicated, like you said,” you pick up. “I wasn’t home for a lot of it, I was back in California for work. And we tried to tell them, but my Dad got sick, and then it turns out that they actually already knew. So, maybe in hindsight, complicated is actually an understatement.”
Lacie laughs with nothing but love in her eyes, stepping on your foot affectionately in a gesture of solidarity.
“Told you they were complex, Cam.”
“A lot more complex than us, lovebug,” he chuckles.
“You hear that, baby?” Bucky leans over to whisper in your ear. “We’re complex.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” you whisper back, turning your head to press a kiss into his jaw.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The food is divine.
It’s all small plates, Mediterranean inspired and delicious. Seafood, charred vegetables, beautiful mixes of herbs spices with everything doused in olive oil and balsamic.
“Holy shit. I don’t think I can eat for a week after this.”
“You gonna have to unbuckle that designer belt of yours, Cameron?”
You’re met with a cacophony of laughter and shaking heads.
“I like her,” he tells Lacie with a smile. “I see why you two work.”
“Aha, I’ve earned the Cameron seal of approval! Hear that, Lace? He likes me.”
“Oh god. My bestie and my soulmate are gonna be friends. There are so many embarrassing stories that are going to be shared, aren’t there?”
“So many,” you and Cameron say in unison.
Lacie’s shaking her head but she can’t stop laughing, buzzed off of the speciality cocktails and the joy of having her favourite people get along.
“Okay, okay, before we get into that,” she intervenes, “we’re having brunch with my sisters and their soulmates tomorrow. So I hate to be a buzzkill… but I’m gonna have to cut this short, before we pass the point of hungover beyond return.”
“Say hi to them for me, won’t you? I haven’t seen them in so long.”
“Laura’s getting married in a few months - I’ll make sure you two get an invite. They’d love to see you again soon, they both ask about you all the time.”
“Sounds perfect.”
You say your goodbyes, hugs and promises to see each other as soon as possible exchanged with love and excitement.
“I’m moving into Cameron’s place finally, and I’m gonna need your help decorating, babe. Will you come shopping with me sometime this week? I trust your taste.”
“Of course, Lace. I’d love to. Just text me, and we’ll arrange something.”
She presses a lipgloss stained kiss to your cheek, smelling like strawberries and giggles from your childhood.
“Bye, you two! So lovely to see you again, Bucky.”
“You too, Lacie. Good to see you guys, and good to finally meet you, Cam.”
“Cam,” Lacie whispers to you. “They’re besties already.”
You can’t help but laugh, waving them off with Bucky’s hand entangled with yours. After they’ve gone, you both sit back down at the table, exhaling.
“See? Wasn’t as bad as you thought, right?”
“I never thought it’d be bad,” you tease. “Just thought it’d be… intense. Which it was, but in a good way, I think.”
“You wanna have a drink just the two of us? Then we can go home, get into our pyjamas, rewatch an episode or two of Twin Peaks.”
“Sounds perfect,” you assure, standing up to press a quick kiss to his cheek before getting ready to make your way to the bar. “The usual, my love?”
“Surprise me, honey.”
You saunter inside, leaving Bucky sitting pretty on the balcony. The breeze gently blows the linen of his shirt, billowing the material and making him look like an angel.
“Can I get two old fashioneds when you get the chance? Thank you.”
The bartender nods her head at you, giving you a gentle smile before turning away to make your drinks. You take a seat on a stool, resting your feet in your heels for a moment.
“Excuse me?”
A pause.
“Excuse me, miss?”
A man slides into the stool next to you, tapping you on the shoulder to get your attention.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were talking to me.”
“I don’t usually do this, but I saw you across the room and just had to tell you that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
You spin around in your place to get a good look at the man who’s speaking. He’s only got a few inches of height on you, but he’s built stocky and strong, with a certain glimmer in his eyes that leaves a strange feeling in your stomach.
“Uh, thank you. That’s kind.”
You try to spin back around, but a clammy hand wraps itself around your forearm, effectively stopping you.
“You’re hurting me.”
“Sorry, sweet thing. Just wanted to talk a little more.”
His voice is dripping with condescension, terribly masking venom and ill intent. The whole situation feels tense and too charged, and you’re desperate to find a way out without upsetting him. You look over to the bartender, trying to catch her attention.
“So you’re here by yourself? Pretty girl like you, you shouldn’t be alone. You don’t know who’s around.”
Your heartbeat picks up, hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention. You’re screaming to Bucky in your mind, begging for him to sense your unease as soon as possible. This man still has a grip on your arm, his other hand moving to rest on your thigh. A cold chill overcomes you, and you know it isn’t from the ocean breeze.
“I’m here with my boyfriend,” you choke out. “He’s waiting for me.”
“Really?” he asks, squeezing his grip tighter. “Where?”
“Right here.”
A familiar voice booms from behind you, rumbling through your bones. You exhale shakily, desperate to turn around but unable to.
“This your daddy, sweet thing?”
“He’s my boyfriend, actually.”
Your voice is shaking, and Bucky hates how vulnerable you sound. You feel the sharp pang of sadness stab through his chest momentarily.
“Take your hands off the lady, asshole. Now.”
When the man doesn’t move, Bucky steps in, plastering himself to your back.
“I won’t ask again,” he reiterates, tone deep and low.
The man seems to get the message, judging by the way he slowly backs away from you. The minute he’s far enough away, Bucky slips a hand under your hair to hold the back of your neck, pulling you into his body. You melt into him, resting your head on his chest and breathing him in.
“Oh, your old fashioneds! I’ll start them now. Sorry!” you hear from behind the bar.
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Bucky says over your head to the bartender. “We’re gonna get going.”
You assume she nods, because Bucky pulls you gently off your stool, leading you towards the door.
“Come on, angel,” he murmurs into your temple. “Let’s go home.”
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Bucky’s hand doesn’t leave yours the entire way back to his house.
You both spend more time at your place than you do at his, so it makes a nice change. You love being here, because it is so completely enveloped by Bucky.
You see him everywhere. His favourite soft grey blanket strewn across the back of the couch, his handmade green mug that you bought him in California left ready on the counter by the coffee machine, the weathered and worn blue plaid pyjama pants he loves folded on the bed.
You hear him everywhere. The trees that he planted in the backyard rustling in the breeze, the soft hum of the refrigerator that he fixed himself six months ago, the reruns of vintage shows that play on the TV when he knows you need some background noise.
You smell him everywhere. The lingering scent of his cologne on every surface, his favourite laundry detergent that clings to his comforter even after he’s slept in it time and time again, the salt from the breeze that billows through the house when he leaves the windows open.
You feel him everywhere. The indent of where his head has laid on his pillows, the fingerprint shaped divots in the arm of the couch where he rests his hand as he watches a movie, the light switch in the hallway that has worn away due to him always pressing it with his elbow when he walks through the front door.
He’s in all four corners of this house, plastered all over it north, south, east and west. His very being lives in the walls, the floors, the ceilings. His spirit has cemented itself into the foundations, down through the Earth that it’s built on.
You couldn’t love it more if you tried.
And now, you see glimpses of you. Your toothbrush and shampoo in the bathroom, your mug waiting ready at the coffee machine, the smear of nail polish you accidentally spilled on the coffee table one evening that won’t quite come off. Your pyjamas folded next to his on the bed, your shoes next to his at the door, your socks next to his in the top drawer.
Neither of your places are yours or his, now. They belong to the two of you. You refer to my apartment as our apartment. He refers to his house as our house. You’re not sure when it began, but it’s happening more and more as of late. It makes you happy beyond words.
Your place, his place… doesn’t matter. Home is wherever you’re together.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Bucky kneels in front of you where you sit on the edge of the bed, unbuckling your heels. He digs his thumbs into the bottom of your feet, releasing some of the tension firmly but carefully.
“You sure you’re okay, honey?”
“Yeah, Buck. I’m okay.”
You look down at him, caressing his stubbled cheek gently. He looks back up at you with those big blue eyes blown wide, so full of concern you can practically feel it buzzing around the room.
“If you wanna talk about it…”
“I know. I can talk to you about anything, baby. And I will, when I need to. Look… it was scary in the moment. But I also knew that you were on the terrace outside, and that you’d come and get me eventually. Plus, it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”
He takes a pause, still working his thumb into your soles.
“You deal with this stuff a lot?” he asks after a moment.
“Sometimes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. All girls do. You know that.”
“I do. It’s just… I don’t know. It’s different, when it’s the person you love the most in the world.”
“I get that. It’s not different for us, though.”
“I know, baby. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise, my love,” you whisper, tracing your fingertips across the features of his face. “You came along and saved me, so.”
“I would have come sooner, you know. I felt it in my chest pretty quick, but got stuck talking to a client of mine. I was inching away for so long before I had to just tell him to leave me alone.”
“It’s okay, we’re all okay. I don’t wanna focus on it. It’s done now.”
“Promise me you’ll talk to me anytime if you need to, though?”
“Promise,” you reassure, linking your pinky finger with his.
You both sit like that for a while, just thinking. You’re still tracing his face, following the beautiful lines and curves as if it’s a colouring book. Focusing on the warmth of his hands on you, you can’t help but let your mind wander to how he handled the guy at the bar. You’ve never seen him so assertive, almost threatening. And the more you think about it, the more you realise - you liked it. Obviously, the situation was unpleasant and far from ideal, but when you hone in on the way your soulmate swooped in to save you…
“What are you thinking about, pretty?” he asks, noticing the way your eyes have clouded over.
“Just the way you looked in that bar. All strong and domineering and in charge.”
“Yeah?”
There’s a dirty smirk making his way onto his handsome face, all mischievous and cunning.
“Yeah. You walked in and saved me like it was nothing. I felt so safe, with the hottest guy in the world protecting me.”
You dance your fingertips across Bucky’s face, tracing his bottom lip.
“I could have killed him,” he murmurs, nipping at the pad of your thumb. “Touching what’s mine.”
Oh. You’ve never heard him speak about you like this, but you’re glad you’re already sitting down - otherwise you’d be melting into a puddle on the ground.
“Mhmm? Yours?”
“You know you’re mine, angel. I have no doubts about that.”
The juxtaposition of it all is making your head spin. Bucky is knelt below you, looking up at you with his ocean blue eyes, but he’s still the one in charge. He’s the one making your knees buckle while his are digging into the carpet.
“I am yours,” you whisper.
“I know.”
His confidence is killing you. There’s sweat dripping down your back already, a bead of it slowly trickling down the curves of your spine. Your chest heaves as you refuse to break eye contact, desperately anticipating his next move.
“You like me like this, don’t you, honey? Sat at your feet, watching you, ready to do whatever you want. Do you even know how much power you hold? Do you even understand the things I would do for you?”
You might pass out if he keeps talking like this. To shut him up, you shove your thumb into his mouth, groaning when he laves over it with his tongue.
“I’ll give you anything,” he mumbles around your digit. “Just say the words.”
“Want you to fuck me,” you choke out.
“How?”
You press down on his tongue for a minute, taking a sick satisfaction in how his eyes water. There’s spit dripping down his chin and your wrist. It’s depraved. You want more.
“Like I’m yours.”
“Yeah?”
“Prove it. Show me. Make sure I don’t forget it.”
He bites down on your thumb before slipping it out of his mouth, licking a stripe from the bottom of it to the top.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “You don’t know what you’ve just asked for.”
He rises suddenly, pulling you off the bed by your arms so you’re standing in front of him. He takes your place at the edge of the mattress, and you realise that you never had the advantage you thought you did.
“Strip.”
You raise a brow at him, and the stormy look you receive in response makes you shut your mouth.
“I won’t ask again, angel. Strip.”
You go to reach for your hem when a hand darts out and catches yours.
“Ah ah ah. What’s the rush? Put on a show for me, baby. Come on.”
You slow right down, carefully undoing the zipper on your dress before gently pulling it up to underneath your chest. You don’t miss the way Bucky’s breath hitches at the sight of what you’ve had on underneath your outfit all night. You pull it up and over your head softly, standing in front of him in your lacy black underwear that you’ve been waiting to debut.
“Fuck, honey girl. Is that new?”
You only nod before stepping forward to stand in between his legs, smiling when his hands fly straight out to rest on your hips.
“You still want me to strip? Or shall I keep this on, let you enjoy it a little longer?”
“Keep it on,” he mumbles against your stomach, pressing kisses to any skin he can reach. “Wanna fuck you in it.”
“Where do you want me?”
“Everywhere.”
You laugh, leaning down to press your lips to his quickly.
“Come sit here,” he decides, patting his thighs.
You go to oblige but stop, pouting at Bucky where he looks up at you.
“What is it, baby?”
“This feels unfair,” you point at him. “You’re wearing all your clothes.”
“Which is the way it’ll stay, until I decide otherwise.”
With that he pulls you down into his lap, manoeuvring you so you’re sat with your legs spread apart by his, back pressed to his chest. You look straight ahead to see yourself in the full length mirror, with Bucky’s self satisfied expression behind you.
“Want you to see what I see,” he explains, running his fingers across your thighs in a featherlight touch. “You should see how pretty you look when you come.”
He cups you over your underwear, both of you groaning in unison.
“This is all for me? All mine?”
All you can do is nod, not trusting your voice anymore. Bucky hooks your panties to the side and runs a finger through your wetness, smothering it around and making a mess on purpose.
“I love you like this,” he murmurs into your ear. “All messy and careless and desperate for me. You’d do anything I asked. So good for me.”
He slides a finger into you, pulling it out swiftly and adding a second. There’s no resistance, only your warm, wet heat sucking him straight back in. You buck your hips, trying to get him to curl them how you like.
“Please,” you whine, squirming in his lap. “Please, Buck.”
He knows exactly what you need, crooking his fingers to hit that spot just right. He can play you like an instrument, plucking at your strings until you’re teetering on the edge in no time.
“Wait,” you plead, gripping his wrist. “Don’t wanna come yet.”
Bucky slows his movements to a halt, kissing your neck and catching your eyes in the mirror.
“No, baby? Why?”
You grab his hand and remove his fingers from you, sucking them into your mouth without breaking eye contact with him. When you’ve licked them clean, you lean back to murmur into his jaw.
“I wanna come on your cock.”
With a gentle kiss to his jaw, you add ever so politely,
“Please.”
Bucky’s never been one to deny you anything, and he’s not about to start now.
“Fuck, look at you. I’ve turned you into a whore.”
“You love it.”
He chuckles all deep and low, the sound rumbling through your body. Pushing you off his lap, you’re confused for a moment before he starts undressing, putting on a show of his own for you.
“C’mere,” he says finally, now fully naked and sat back in his original spot at the edge of the mattress. “Come and watch how pretty you look when you’re sitting on my cock.”
You settle back where you were, legs spread wide by his thick thighs. One of his arms is wrapped around your middle, keeping you firmly plastered to his chest as his other hand lands at the base of your throat.
“Okay, baby. S’all yours. Take what you need.”
His arrogance is doing nothing to soothe the ache between your legs, your arousal dripping through your pretty lace underwear. It’s ruined, but you couldn’t care less.
Lining him up and sinking down, you both groan at the sensation. He fills you up perfectly, almost as if you were made for each other. When you realise you were, your legs go jelly.
“Atta girl. Use me, baby. Fuck yourself, that’s it.”
You use his thighs as leverage, rising up onto your tiptoes to slam back down. Finding a steady rhythm, you feel a funny sense of pride at doing it yourself, at being the one to take you both apart.
Bucky’s praise doesn’t stop, the timbre of his voice in your ear like melted honey, all warm and golden. He presses kisses into your shoulders, your neck, your back, anywhere he can reach. When he can tell you’re getting tired, he starts canting his hips upwards when you come down. He knows he’s hit the right spot when you half collapse backwards into him, whining. His hands tighten their grip on your hip and your throat, keeping you upright.
Your soulmate directs your head back towards the mirror, forcing you to look at your fucked out reflection.
“Look at you,” he hums. “You look wrecked, baby. Such a fucking mess.”
“For you,” you slur, still willing your legs to do the work.
You’re so close you can taste it, and Bucky knows this. His hand that was on your hip migrates to between your legs, where he rubs slow but firm circles on your clit. Your knees buckle, and he knows you’re done for.
“Look at yourself,” he demands, keeping your head up with his grip on you. “Look how fucking pretty you look when you come.”
You watch yourself - the way your jaw drops open and your muscles tighten, back arching up and away. You then shift your gaze to Bucky’s reflection just in time to watch him finish. It’s the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen - his teeth sunken into your shoulder, sweat dripping down his chest, eyes blown so wide you can’t tell they’re blue anymore.
The two of you sit like that for a while, still connected in every sense of the word. You’re trying to catch your breath, every bone in your body completely relaxed. Bucky’s arms circle your middle, ensuring every inch of his skin is pressed to yours.
“Told you,” he mumbles into your jaw. “Prettiest sight in the fucking world, honey girl.”
You tilt your head up to look at the two of you, the way you fit together so perfectly.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Eleven. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.
Chapter Synopsis - The two of you have some time to yourselves for what feels like the first time in forever.
Pairing - Dadsbestfriend!Bucky Barnes x female reader - soulmate au
Warnings - smut. cursing. mention of a panic attack. initial hospital setting. one alcohol mention.
Word Count - 4k
Authors Note - 10!! 10 whole chapters!! can you believe it!! pancake recipe taken from mr carlos sainz - thanks carlito <3. double date next chapter (with protective/jealous bucky, as requested ;)). and the much awaited conversation… coming very soon. thanks for the love and support and kindness. it means the world, always <3
as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3
Masterlist. Inbox.
“Before I came down to find you, your Mom raised a question with me.”
“… which was?”
He takes a deep breath. Exhales it shakily.
“She asked me how long you and I have been soulmates.”
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
“We can’t sit out here forever, honey.”
You stretch out your legs from where they’ve been tucked up against your chest, chin resting on your knees. Bucky places a hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing gentle circles.
“We can.”
He chuckles, pressing a kiss into the top of your head.
“I know it’s scary, but we can’t run from this any longer. We’re just going to have to face it head on.”
“I know,” you sigh, taking his hand in yours. “I’m just…”
You trail off, leaving words unspoken in the air like particles of dust in the sunlight.
“What are you so afraid of? Is it that they won’t support us? Honey girl, they aren’t gonna have much of a choice. We are literally soulmates.”
You’re trying to find a way to explain, but none of your thoughts are coherent enough to articulate into something comprehensible.
“I don’t know, Buck. At first, I think it was that. But now? Maybe I just feel guilty that we’ve kept something so huge a secret for so long. I used to tell my parents everything - by choice. That’s how we’ve always been. And suddenly, the biggest event of my life happens, and I… didn’t tell them?”
“You’re letting this guilt eat you alive, baby. Listen, I feel it too. You’re not alone in this. Do you know how many times your parents have asked me about dating in these last eighteen months? How many times we’ve talked about soulmates? And I guess I never lied… but I haven’t exactly told the truth. I’m just as guilty as you think you are.”
“I’m sorry,” you confess, resting your head against his broad shoulder. “I’ve had such tunnel vision with this whole situation. I’ve been selfish. I should have thought about you more.”
“You haven’t had to.”
“Hmm?”
“You’ve got nothing to apologise for, honey baby. You’ve never had to ‘think about me more’, because you’ve known how I felt this whole time. In here.”
He places a hand over your heart. You close your eyes, letting the warmth from his palm bleed into your chest. The weight of it grounds you back down to Earth, tethered to your soulmate in more ways than one.
“That’s the beauty of it,” he continues. “You don’t have to guess how I’m feeling, or when I’m feeling it - because I’m always telling you. And you’re always listening.”
“I don’t deserve you,” you whisper, squeezing his hand where it’s still linked with yours.
“The Universe disagrees,” he whispers back, leaning in to kiss the spot underneath your ear. “I disagree.”
It’s all so tender, so gentle, so real, that a lump in your throat forms instantly. You blink rapidly, fighting back tears as you press your side into his. If you could sew yourself into his ribcage and live there forever, resting your head on his beating heart, you would.
“Come on,” he coaxes carefully, pulling you to your feet and watching to see if you’re steady enough. “Let’s do this thing.”
You stare up at him, lost in those ocean blue irises. For a moment, you swear you see the waves moving in them, crashing against the shore in a motion so comforting, it reminds you of home.
“I love you.”
Bucky smiles at you, pupils dilating and heart beating that little bit faster. He’ll never get sick of hearing those words.
“I love you more than all the stars in the sky, honey girl. More than anything.”
Tangling your fingers with his, you inhale deeply before taking the first step forwards, towards the front doors of the hospital.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
When you reach your Dad’s room, you drop Bucky’s hand as if by instinct. When he links your fingers once more, you panic momentarily, before realising it’s futile.
They already know. There’s no point in hiding it anymore.
You walk through the door hand in hand, pressed into each others sides as if it’ll keep you standing upright. Maybe it will.
Your Mom instantly bolts out of her chair, coming over to assess you. She looks you up and down, cradling your face in her hands as she checks you over.
“You were gone a long time, sweetheart. You okay? Have you been crying?”
Bucky lets go of you to give you some space, but doesn’t go too far. You can still feel his warmth from behind you as you watch your Mom’s eyebrows furrow with worry.
“I had… I think it was, um… like a - a panic attack, or something. I don’t know. I just got overwhelmed.”
Your voice sounds so small again, so fragile. You mentally chastise yourself for not being stronger for her.
“Oh, honey.”
She pulls you into her chest, stroking your hair just like she did when you were a child and had a nightmare. You’d run across the hall and into your parents room - your Mom would always bolt upright when she heard little feet on the wooden floors, waiting for you with open arms.
“Your Dad is gonna be fine. I promise you, the Doctors have said he’ll make a full recovery.”
“It’s true.”
The voice is croaky and rusted from misuse, but it unmistakably belongs to the man lying in the hospital bed.
You make your way over and sit down carefully, cautious and calculated. Your Dad takes your hand, stroking his thumb across your skin.
“I’m gonna be just fine, kid. I know I scared you, and I’m really sorry. But I’m okay. Promise.”
You smile at him, genuinely this time, before leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.
“You guys should go home.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Go home, get some rest. The two of you look almost as exhausted as Lori does.”
Your Mom laughs, shaking her head. You chuckle, watching them. There’s no one funnier than your soulmate.
“I think we should stay a little longer, Jack.”
Bucky’s voice has all three of your heads whipping around to face him.
“Buck, please be on my side here. You’re tired. Go home, sleep it off. All I’m gonna do for the next twenty four hours is sleep anyway. There’s no point in you sitting here watching me like a bunch of creeps.”
You chew your bottom lip, watching your Dad’s face carefully.
“Mom, Dad - we need to talk about-”
“I know, babygirl,” your Dad interrupts. “And we will. But not here, and not now. We’ll do it when I’m home. We can all sit on the couch and drink your Mom’s cherry lemonade and talk about how you and Bucky have been soulmates this entire time.”
“Not this entire time,” you grumble at his attempt at a joke.
“Seriously, you two. I won’t ask again. Go. Home.”
You look at your Dad for a moment, before averting your gaze to your Mom. They’re both wearing the exact same facial expression - the one they used to give you when you’d refuse your bedtime as a six year old on a school night.
“Come on, honey. You heard them. We’re practically dead on our feet.”
You rise from the bed reluctantly, pressing another kiss to your Dad’s cheek before doing the same to your Mom.
“Call me if anything changes, or if you need anything. I mean anything, you guys.”
They both nod as your Dad does a mock salute, laughing at himself.
Bucky extends his hand out for you. This time, you don’t hesitate to take it. You hold it tightly all the way back to his truck, and then all the way back home.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You and Bucky get ready for bed in silence, both of you flitting around your apartment as quickly as possible. You can’t wait to finally get under your duvet and lose the stress of the last twenty four hours.
The minute your head hits the pillow, you’re wide awake.
The exhaustion has seeped into your bones, making you weary but restless. You can’t settle, physically or mentally.
Bucky, on the other hand, is out like a light.
He looks so peaceful like this. The moonlight soaks through a gap in the curtains, illuminating his face like some sort of angel. His hair is a little longer than usual, stubble growing out across his sharp jawline. He looks rugged, a little rough around the edges. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
As if he can feel your gaze on him, he cracks an eye open, blinking to adjust to the dimly lit room. He has a pillow crease across his skin, cheek flushed pink with a dusty blush.
“You okay, baby?”
His voice is hoarse and all sleep heavy, rumbling through you like gentle summer thunder.
“Can’t sleep,” you whisper, trying to fight back tears. “I’m so tired, Buck. So fucking tired.”
“But you can’t sleep?”
He pulls you into his chest, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and stroking your hair soothingly.
“It’s like my body is exhausted, but my brain is wide awake,” you mumble into his bare skin. “Doesn’t make sense.”
“Nothing makes sense,” he chuckles lowly. “Nothing in this goddamn world makes sense. Except for me and you.”
Bucky spins you in his arms so your back is to his chest, bodies pressed together without an inch of space between you. Pressing a kiss into your neck, he starts mumbling.
“You just need to turn your brain off, baby. I know it’s easier said than done… so I’m gonna help you. All you need to do is focus on my voice, on my touch. Focus your attention on my hands on you, my lips on your skin. The heat of my body against yours.”
He skims his fingers down your side, gripping at your hips to ground you. He’s still kissing your neck, nipping occasionally to vary the sensation. He slips a hand down your front, cupping you over your underwear as you close your eyes, breathing him in. He smells like salt water and sea air and gasoline and home.
You cant your hips into his touch, trying to get him where you want him. Bucky takes the hint, slipping his hand into your panties and running a finger through your wetness. You groan, throwing your head back into his solid shoulder.
“Just switch off, honey baby. Give in to me.”
Bucky glides a finger into you, crooking it towards him. His palm hits your clit and you keen, whining all high pitched and breathy. His hips buck into your backside at the sound, and he chuckles.
“Fuck, you sound so sweet. Sweetest girl in the world.”
He adds another finger, using his thumb to circle your clit in precise, firm motions. You’re writhing against the mattress like a serpent, unable to stay still as Bucky takes you apart.
“Come for me, baby. Can feel you squeezin’ my fingers. That’s it, atta girl… ride my hand, take what you need. Wanna hear how pretty you sound when you come.”
Your entire body tightens up as you reach your climax, back arching away from Bucky as he continues to curl his fingers. He pulls you close, anchors you to him as you moan and shudder.
Your head is empty, besides the thought of your soulmate. All you can think about is Bucky.
Bucky Bucky Bucky Bucky Bucky.
You take a stuttered inhale as you try to catch your breath, beads of sweat dripping down your back.
“You okay?”
He’s muttering into your shoulder, mouth never leaving your skin. You nod, linking your fingers with his where they rest on your waist.
“You didn’t come,” you whisper, leaning your head back into Bucky.
He kisses your cheek, chuckling lowly.
“This wasn’t about me,” he reassures. “It’s all about you, baby. Always is.”
The two of you breathe together for a little while, allowing you to come down from your high. Eventually, Bucky taps your thigh, nudging you up.
“Come on, honey. Get up and use the bathroom, and then we’ll sleep for the next week.”
You do as he says, crawling back into bed with limbs that feel like jelly.
“How you feelin’?” he asks as he pulls you into his side, resting your head on his chest.
“Fucking fantastic.”
He laughs and you can’t help but laugh too, as if by reflex.
“Yeah? No more racing thoughts in that pretty head of yours?”
“None. All I can think about is how much I want to sleep right now.”
Pressing a kiss onto the top of your head, Bucky tightens his arms around you.
“Then sleep, baby.”
You snuggle into your soulmates side, relaxing into the mattress.
“I love you,” you mumble into his skin.
“I love you,” he murmurs back. “Sweet dreams, honey girl.”
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
When you wake, you can’t tell if you’ve slept for five minutes or five days.
The sheets are crumpled, linen strewn across the bed as the pillows sit completely unmoved at the headboard. Sunlight filters in through the curtains, warming your skin that’s exposed to the sea soaked breeze.
You reach over to the other side of the mattress, seeking Bucky’s warmth. You’re met with empty space, and the sound of a throat clearing on the other side of the room.
The man in question is leaning against the doorframe, shirtless and sun kissed. His boxers are hugging his thighs just right, and you repress the urge to crawl over and sink your teeth into the muscle. Later.
“Morning or afternoon?” You croak out, watching as he softly smiles at your sleep addled voice.
“Morning. Eleven twenty four.”
You stretch your arms above your head, unaware of the way Bucky’s eyes are glued to your bare stomach.
“You want breakfast, or have you eaten?”
“Haven’t eaten yet. Was waiting for you.”
You slide down to the end of the bed where Bucky meets you, leaning down to press a minty kiss to your lips.
“Have you been awake long?”
He shakes his head, stealing another kiss.
“Ten minutes or so.”
“How’d you sleep?”
He moves some hair away from your face gently, the morning affection making you light up inside.
“Like a baby. Don’t think I moved once.”
You laugh, running your fingers over his bare shoulders.
“I can’t remember the last time I slept like that.”
“Me neither. I think we need to start prioritising sleep a little more.”
“It’s just… so hard,” you murmur, rising onto your knees on the bed so you’re face to face. “I don’t ever want to sleep when I have the most handsome man alive in my bed. I can think of many other things I’d rather be doing.”
He groans, chuckling lowly.
“Watch it,” he warns. “Or I’ll keep you in this bed all day. Won’t let you leave.”
“Is that a threat or a promise, Barnes?”
He football tackles you suddenly, both of you falling backwards into the plush sheets. You squeal, caught off guard as his hands squeeze your sides firmly.
“Keep running your mouth and see what happens, angel.”
You card your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly to get a reaction. When his eyes flutter closed, you breathe out a laugh.
“I’m so scared,” you tease, peppering his face with gentle kisses. “Like, quaking in my boots.”
He goes to retort, but is interrupted by the deafening sound of your stomach rumbling.
“If we weren’t about to get noise complaints from the neighbours about that hunger of yours, I would absolutely continue this. But…”
“We need to eat.”
“Yes, we do.”
You peck his cheek before jumping off the bed, stretching as you make your way to the kitchen. Bucky follows you eagerly. Of course he does.
You click the coffee maker on as you spin to face him where he’s leaning against the counter.
“I’m about to make you the best pancakes you’ll eat in your entire life, James.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Watch and learn, baby.”
When he doesn’t move, you walk him backwards, pulling out the bar stool from underneath the island.
“You just sit there and look pretty.”
He shakes his head with a smirk as you wink, turning on the stove and grabbing your bowls and utensils. He didn’t ask for a cooking lesson, but you’re about to give him one.
“The trick is to separate the egg whites from the yolks, and whip them. When they’re fluffy, you fold them into your mixture, and it makes the pancakes light and airy and gorgeous. Then you add honey, for extra sweetness.”
He watches you flit around the kitchen as if you’re the sun, bright and warm and radiant. He can’t take his eyes off you for a second. He couldn’t if he wanted to.
Bucky’s blinking back tears, suddenly, as you sway your hips while flipping the pancakes at the stove. He wants to drop to his knees, yell out to a higher power and ask what the hell he did to deserve someone like you. He’ll beg, if he has to, for someone, something, to make sure that he finds you in every universe, in every version of this crazy life.
“I love you,” you beam at him, as if you’ve read his mind. “I love you more than anything.”
Your grin is so blinding, so utterly brilliant that the entire room lights up with it. Your own form of electricity.
“I… I-”
“I know, Buck.”
It gets like this, sometimes. Too overwhelming to put into words. To love someone more than anything, anyone - a love that knows no bounds - is completely indescribable.
So he doesn’t even try. He just nods at you, watching as your eyes light up at the sight of him.
“Will you pour us some coffee while I put these on a plate?”
“Anything you need,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair as he squeezes past you to grab the mugs. “Always.”
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You settle down to eat on the balcony, letting the midday sun warm you both up.
“I brought syrup, but, I also brought this.”
You hold out a plastic tub that contains a dark pink mixture, popping the lid off.
“Try it.”
Bucky sticks his little finger in, putting it in his mouth and sighing in contentment at the taste that coats his tongue.
“Good?”
“So good. What is it?”
“My homemade raspberry and lemon coulis. I make it to go on top of pancakes and waffles - it beats maple syrup any day.”
“You’re a genius.”
“So it’s been said,” you laugh, pouring it over your plate. “Now eat before they go cold.”
“Yes ma’am.”
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
“You weren’t lying,” he says when he’s finished. “They were the best pancakes I’ve ever eaten.”
You laugh, sliding across to press your side into his.
“There’s a lot more where that came from. I have so many recipes I want you to try.”
“God, I’m so lucky. I have the most perfect soulmate in the world, and she’s a baker. What did I do to deserve you, hmm?”
You lean in to kiss him gently, licking across his lips. He tastes like raspberries and sugar and eight hours of sleep.
You’re sat in comfortable silence when your phone rings, startling you both.
“Hello?”
“Babe?”
“Lacie?”
“Hey!”
“Hi!”
You smile instantly, and Bucky does too, by default.
“Your Mom called me and told me about your Dad. She’s been keeping me updated over text. How are you guys holding up?”
“We’re good, honestly. It was a little touch and go at first, but now… we’re okay. All of us.”
“Good. I love you guys.”
“Love you too. So much.”
She sighs all deep and wistful, and you can’t help but chuckle.
“What’s up, Lace?”
“Well… I’m calling with a proposition. And I feel like you’re gonna say no, but your Mom already told me that I had to force you to do it, so.”
“Oh, God.”
“Come on a double date with me and Cameron tonight. Come for dinner and drinks with us.”
You take a deep breath, looking over at Bucky. He nods in agreement, encouraging you.
“Okay.”
“Yeah?”
Her surprise is undeniable, the octave of her voice rising ever higher.
“Yeah. I haven’t seen you in too long, and it’ll be good for me to meet Cameron, finally. Plus, we’re visiting my Dad this afternoon, so we have a free evening.”
“Oh my God, I am so excited! Okay, I’ll text you the address of where we’re eating. Cam knows so much about you already, he can’t wait to meet you. And I can’t wait to meet Bucky… again? I mean I’ve met him before, but not as your soulmate.”
“Yeah,” you giggle. “It’ll be good for everyone to get… reacquainted.”
“Exactly!”
“Alright, Lace. We’ve gotta get ready to visit my Dad, but I’ll see you later?”
“See you later, babe. I am so excited. See you then!”
She puts the phone down, and you can almost picture the cloud of perfume and pressed powder that’s about to rain down on her bedroom. You wish you were there to watch it happen, like old times.
“Our first double date, huh?”
“It’ll be our last if you don’t behave,” you tease, leaning in to peck Bucky’s lips.
“Don’t tempt me.”
You laugh into his mouth, running your fingers through the ends of his hair at the back of his neck. It’s the longest you’ve seen it, and it’s starting to curl all cute and soft and wispy.
“Come on. Let’s go see my Dad, and then spend hours mentally preparing ourselves for Storm Lacie.”
“I always liked her. Seemed good for you.”
“She is. She’s the best.”
Bucky wraps a strong arm around your shoulder as you swing your legs over his lap, burying yourself in his bare chest.
“You nervous?” he asks into your temple.
“A little, weirdly. Meeting each others soulmate is the kind of thing we’d talk about when we were kids. And now we’re doing it.”
“We can handle it,” he reassures, his thumb rubbing patterns into your arm. “We can handle anything, you and I.”
Authors Note - I probably sound like a broken record, but… thank you all so much for your patience and support. couldn’t do it without you. can you even believe that next chapter will be chapter ten? thanks for sticking with me. sorry for this rollercoaster of a chapter. there is still more to come - don’t worry!! <3
as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3
Masterlist. Inbox.
You don’t remember the journey.
One minute, Bucky’s grabbing your hand and bundling you into the passenger seat of his truck, buckling you in as your hands shake. The next, he’s undoing your seatbelt, telling you that you’ve arrived as he puts the car in park. You don’t recall speeding across town and into the city. You can’t even think back to the roads flying past in a blur as your thoughts run at a hundred miles an hour.
The only thing that’s on your mind is your Dad.
You and Buck take the stairs two at a time, hands clasped together tightly. When you reach the reception desk, you try to speak, but nothing comes out. Your words have dried up, dissolved and evaporated into thin air. Your soulmate saves you, once again.
“We’re here to see a family member in cardiology. Can you tell us where to go, please?”
The receptionist looks up at you both, before nodding her head in the right direction.
“Follow that hallway, then through the double doors and up the stairs. Go left, and you’ll see the sign.”
You’re on autopilot, heading straight towards the doors. Bucky follows you quickly, throwing a chaste but genuine thanks to the lady behind the desk as he goes.
“Baby,” he calls after you when you reach the top. “Baby, hold on.”
You spin around, looking up at him with glassy eyes. Your bottom lip quivers as he tucks some hair behind your ear, fingertips brushing your cheek gently.
“Take a breath, please. You’re gonna faint before you get there.”
You inhale as deeply as possible, your lungs only filling to half capacity. You grab onto his hand for a second, squeezing as hard as you can.
“Okay. Breath done. Let’s go.”
You take off down the hallway, leaving Bucky to jog after you. Finding the big blue sign that reads Cardiology, you storm through the doors, looking around frantically. You spot Room 4 and head straight into it.
The room is all white, clinical and clean. There’s sunshine beaming through the window, but it doesn’t seem to warm the space. It’s cold, almost ominous. It makes it hard to breathe.
The bed is empty, crisp sheets tucked tightly into the plastic sides. Your Mom is sat in the chair beside it. She looks small, swallowed by the blue material.
“Mama.”
You don’t recognise your own voice. It’s choked and strangled, foreign to your ears.
She practically jumps up, striding across the room to wrap you in her arms. Inhaling the familiar scent of home, you hug her back as tightly as you can.
“Where is he?”
“He’s in surgery.”
You breathe a half sigh of relief. You’d feared the worst, when you’d walked in and seen the empty bed.
“What happened?”
Bucky’s been leaning against the door frame, watching you both carefully but giving you space. The tone of his voice is calm, collected. He’s holding it together for you.
“I honestly couldn’t understand it all. They were telling me so much information so fast.”
She sits down in the chair while you and Bucky perch on the edge of the bed, facing her.
“It was supposed to just be an appointment, wasn’t it?”
She nods.
“They did the EKG and weren’t happy with the results, so the nurse put us in this room while she waited for the Doctor. Then the Doctor burst in, talking about blockages and bypasses and emergency surgery.”
Her hands are trembling, neatly manicured nails being picked at repeatedly. Bucky reaches over and links his fingers with hers, all grounded and reassuring.
“They put him in a gown,” she continues, “and all of a sudden they were wheeling him away. I can’t even remember what I said, or if I said goodbye or I love you.”
“Mama, you will have said I love you. I promise you that.”
“She’s right, Lori. You will have said exactly the right thing. You always do.”
She squeezes his hand gratefully, taking a deep breath.
“The Doctor said he had a blockage, and they were worried about blood clotting. That’s why they rushed him in. The nurse said she’d update me when she knew anything, but I haven’t spoken to anyone yet.”
“I’m sure he’ll be back soon. You know what Jack’s like,” Bucky laughs. “He’s the toughest guy I know.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, freshen up a little. Call me if a nurse comes in, won’t you?”
You nod, clasping her hand tightly for a moment.
“Promise, Mama.”
She stands up carefully, inhaling before leaving the room. Your posture instantly crumbles, faked bravado leaving you as soon as she’s out of view.
“I’m so scared,” you whisper.
Bucky hears it clear as day.
He slides closer to you, wrapping both arms around your frame. Pressing a kiss into your hair, he runs his fingertips up and down your spine gently.
“I’ve got you, baby. You’re allowed to be scared. But everything is going to be okay. I know it will be.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better,” you mumble into the cotton of his shirt. “It should, but it doesn’t. That scares me, too.”
Bucky traces the features of your face gently with his thumb, his ocean blue eyes never leaving yours. He dances his finger over the slope of your nose, your cheekbones, the curve of your lips. His skin is warm and calloused against yours, polar opposite to how cold you feel.
“I’m your soulmate,” he murmurs, “but I’m not a miracle worker. Fuck, I wish I was. There are gonna be some things that I can’t fix for you, no matter how badly I want to. We just have to ride them out together, sweet girl.”
You nod, leaning in to rest your head against his pounding heart.
It still beats to the rhythm of your name. Even after all this time.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You don’t jump apart when your Mom walks back in.
Upon first glance, the picture is simple - a girl being comforted by her Dads best friend. A hug. Reassuring words.
If you look closer, the image becomes a little more complicated - her fingers tangled in the front of his shirt. His hand cradling the back of her head. Familiar lips softly pressed to her temple.
Any other time, someone might question the sheer intimacy of the moment. But not now.
Now, all focus is drawn to the nurse in sky blue scrubs that appears in the doorway.
“You’re all Jack’s family?”
You all spin to face her, nodding frantically.
“Thought so. He’s out of surgery, and he’ll be brought up here shortly.”
“Is he alright?” your Mom asks, standing up. You can physically see the tension rising in her body.
“He’s doing okay. The Doctor is going to come up and talk to you a little about some… complications. But he’s okay.”
The reassurance at the end of the sentence doesn’t make any of you feel any better. You’re stuck on the word complications.
As if on cue, your Dad is wheeled in, all laid up cosy in crisp white sheets. He has oxygen tucked up under his nose, tubes and wires attached to his hands. He looks fragile, which is a state you’ve never seen him in before. Usually, he’s larger than life, braver than a bear, with a booming laugh that can make anyone smile. In this current moment, he looks like a little boy again, put to bed softly by his mother on a school night.
They get him situated as the Doctor approaches the three of you, huddled by the chair to stay out of the way.
“The surgery went well. The blockage has been fixed, and hopefully shouldn’t reoccur. We’ll put him on medication for the future, blood thinners most likely, to prevent anything further.”
Your Mom nods, lips pressed together.
“The nurse said there was complications?”
Bucky’s voice is low and careful, the timbre of it reverberating next to you.
“We ran into some trouble with the anaesthetic. We struggled to wake him for quite some time, and then his blood pressure completely bottomed out. We managed to get him steady again, but it was a little touch and go for a minute.”
Your Mom sits down slowly, holding onto the arms of the chair with taut knuckles.
“Your husband is going to be just fine, ma’am. We’ll manage any future worries with meds. Some people just don’t respond well to anaesthesia, especially if they’ve never had it before. We’ll monitor him over the next few days, keep him under observation just in case. But it looks positive. I assure you.”
She inhales, leaning back and exhaling the breath.
“He’ll probably just sleep it off for the rest of today, so don’t worry if he’s barely conscious. His body has been through a trauma, and he needs some time to recover.”
You all nod, Bucky’s hand reaching out to squeeze yours momentarily. He subtly presses a kiss into the nape of your neck, as if to melt the tension away.
You all breathe a collective sigh of relief.
“If you need anything, there are always nurses walking around on this floor. They’ll call me if necessary.”
She smiles before leaving, picking up her clipboard as she goes.
“Thanks, Doctor!” Bucky calls after her, making both you and your Mom laugh softly.
The three of you remain still for a while, scared to make any sudden moves. Eventually, Bucky stretches his legs.
“I’m gonna grab some coffees. The usuals?”
You both nod at him.
“Be right back. Call me if you need anything.”
You can’t take your eyes off him as he leaves. You miss his warmth instantly.
“He’s a good guy,” your Mom whispers to you from the chair, where you’re perched on the armrest. She’s watching him go too.
You hum in agreement.
“He looks out for you.”
You hum in agreement once again, albeit this time a little quieter.
“You guys are close, these days.”
You inhale calmly.
“Yeah,” you murmur. “He’s got my back.”
“He likes you a lot.”
Before she can continue, your Dads eyes flutter open slowly. You both jump up, standing on either side of his bed.
“Hi, honey.”
“Hi, Dad.”
He blinks rapidly, trying to adjust to the harsh lighting.
“How you feeling, tough guy?”
He smiles softly, and the relief that fills your body is so overwhelming, you feel as if your legs might give out. You hold onto the metal bars of the bed for support, praying you stay upright.
He groans a little, throat hoarse.
“Water?”
Your Mom puts the straw in his mouth, nodding in approval as he sips.
“I’m good,” he croaks. “Got my girls with me.”
You both laugh.
“Jack, as much as I’d love to be your girl…”
Bucky is stood against the doorframe, keeping a careful distance from the family moment. Your Dad chuckles, shaking his head.
“You’re the prettiest one, Buck,” he says with as much conviction as he can muster. You all can’t help but laugh even more.
“How you feeling, honey?”
“Fine. Tired, though.”
“The Doctor said you’d most likely just sleep it off all day. Go back to sleep, if you want to. We’re right here.”
He nods, closing his eyes instantly. Your Mom settles back in the chair as Bucky hands her a coffee. He goes to give you yours, but you place it down on the side table.
“I’m gonna get some air. Be back in a minute.”
He gives you a look that says are you sure?, but you’re already out the door, not glancing back.
“She doesn’t like hospitals.”
Bucky nods in recognition, but can’t focus on anything except the severe levels of rising anxiety in his chest.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You can’t find your way out, and it’s making you panic more.
You’re throwing doors open, running down sets of stairs. Eventually, you see an exit, and barge through it with no regard for your surroundings. You’re at the front of the hospital, somehow making it to the main entrance.
Your lungs feel like they’re burning, white hot heat filling them with each weak inhale that you manage. The world is turning, suddenly, the entire axis of the Earth shifting on its head. Gasping, you grab onto a railing, desperate to just take a full breath and calm down.
The more you try to breathe, the worse things seem to get. It feels like the non existent walls are closing in, claustrophobia settling into your weary bones. Your legs buckle as your surroundings spin.
You don’t even register the impact of your knees hitting the ground, nor feel the pain that follows. You’re only minutely aware that you’re even on the floor because you can feel the warm tarmac underneath your palms.
Suddenly, there are two strong arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you into a solid chest. You relax against it, tired of fighting.
“It’s me, baby. Shit, it’s me.”
The voice is panicked, almost frantic in the way it hits your ears. There’s a hand stroking over your hair, strumming over your cheekbone, squeezing your shoulder. You wonder for a second if anyone has ever died from something like this. You feel as if you’re pretty close.
“You’ve got to start slowing your breathing, honey. Can you hear me?”
You think you nod. You assume you do, because the voice continues.
“Put your hand on my heart,” he says as he does it for you. “Just like that. Can you feel the beat of it, underneath your palm? It sounds like a drum, right? One two, one two, one two. Can you focus on it?”
You try to hone into the sound. You think you might be able to distantly feel it, where your hand meets his shirt.
“How about if we create a pattern together? And we’ll both follow it? Like this.”
The voice tilts your chin upwards, so you’re looking into his eyes.
“Bucky,” you choke out.
“Breathe when I breathe, okay? In, and out,” he inhales and exhales. “In, and out. There we go, atta girl. In, and out. You got it.”
You stay collapsed on the sidewalk for what feels like hours, breathing when he tells you to. You focus your vision on his ocean blue irises, finding your home in them. Eventually, you feel like you’re somewhat filling your lungs, and the world stops spinning.
“There she is.”
You drop your head onto his chest, warm tears soaking into the material of his shirt.
You finally let yourself relax, sagging against his body as he holds you close.
“Fuck, you scared me. Are you hurt?”
You don’t even know the answer to that question yourself.
Bucky starts checking you over, looking for any visible injuries. When he reaches your knees, he inhales sharply.
“Shit, baby. We’ll have to get some antiseptic on these grazes of yours. You’ll have some badass bruises tomorrow, tough girl.”
You realise, slowly, where you are. You’re on the sidewalk outside the hospital, sat on the floor, wrapped in Bucky’s arms. You try to stand up too quickly, and wobble backwards.
“Woah, easy. There we go. Come sit over here with me.”
There’s a wooden bench not far from the entrance, tucked in between a hedge and a flowerbed. You take a seat, surveying the bloody mess of your knees as you do.
“They look worse than they are, baby. Promise. We’ll fix them when we go back upstairs.”
You rest your head on his shoulder as he throws an arm around you and tugs you into his side.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, hmm?”
“Don’t like hospitals,” you whisper. “Never have.”
“Is there… any particular reason? Or is it just one of those things?”
“Spent a lot of time here when I was younger,” you admit quietly. “I was kind of a sick kid. Had my own set of issues. Lots of appointments and stuff.”
Bucky nods against the top of your head, pressing a kiss into your hair.
“You never mentioned anything.”
“Didn’t think it was relevant.”
He hums.
“I’m sorry,” you confess. “For causing a scene. Being dramatic.”
“Honey,” he scolds. “You’re not dramatic. We’ve all got our fears, the things that make us tick. I promise you, no one thinks you’re dramatic. You feel how you feel, and that’s okay.”
You sigh in defeat, pulling your knees up under your chin.
“I think I was holding it together until I saw he was okay. When I knew he was fine, I just… crumbled.”
“That’s a perfect reflection of your character, you know. Keeping it together for everyone else.”
You chuckle dryly.
“Maybe. I suppose.”
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The two of you sit outside for a while longer, breathing in the fresh air and revelling in each others embrace.
“We should probably go back up. They’re going to wonder where we are.”
You go to stand up, but Bucky pulls you back down onto the bench.
“Honey, wait. There’s something we need to… talk about, before we go.”
You turn to face him, and instantly tense up. He looks worried.
“Buck, what is it?”
“I… I don’t know what we’re supposed to do. Or how we’re meant to handle this. I really, really don’t know what the best angle is here.”
“You’re scaring me,” you say as you cradle his face. His scruff tickles your palm, and any other time, you both would have laughed.
“Before I came down to find you, your Mom raised a question with me.”
“… which was?”
He takes a deep breath. Exhales it shakily.
“She asked me how long you and I have been soulmates.”
Chapter Synopsis - Turns out, you’re not the only ones with a secret.
Pairing - Dadsbestfriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au
Warnings - cursing. mentions of hospitals/medical settings.
Word Count - 5k
Authors Note - I promise that the reveal was supposed to be in this part!! but I hit 5k words real quick and thought rather than rush it, I’d give it its full own chapter. guess what’s coming next ;). as always, thank you for your love and support and patience and encouragement and kindness. don’t know where I’d be without it <3
as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3
Masterlist. Inbox.
The sun beams through the white linen curtains, salty ocean breeze drifting through the open window. The rays warm your skin as you kick off the sheets, stretching your arms above your head. You turn over, to find the space next to you empty.
Rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes, you yawn, inhaling the scent of breakfast. Throwing on Bucky’s soft blue button up, you pad out to the kitchen to find him at your stovetop, shirtless and sun kissed.
“I’m getting the full girlfriend experience, huh?”
He grins at the sound of your voice, entire body lighting up with it.
“Girlfriend,” he laughs. “This is the soulmate experience, baby. It’s even better.”
You shake your head, but you can’t fight the smile that etches itself on your face. He looks so at home here, so comfortable. He reaches up to grab a plate from your cupboard, and you feel the sudden urge to burst into tears.
He knows where everything is.
He’s learnt his way around the kitchen just like he’s learnt his way around your heart. Your soul. Your very existence.
“You okay?”
He turns off the burner and glides over to you, warm hands finding your hips like it’s second nature.
“What’s wrong? You like pancakes,” he teases, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead tenderly. “Oh no. Did you want waffles?”
You shake your head, swallowing down the lump in your throat.
“I’m fine,” you say, but your voice cracks instantly.
“Doesn’t sound like it.”
He says it so gently, so carefully. You feel like a precious flower, something to be taken care of, cherished, loved. No one has ever made you feel like this.
“I just realised you… fit, here. Like you were always supposed to. I can’t really remember what this apartment was like before it had you in it too.”
Bucky cradles your face in his hands, tilting your head up to look at him.
“Wherever you are. That’s where my home is.”
You surge forwards to press your lips to his, alive and buzzing with the electricity of being loved so wholly. He reciprocates instantly, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you closer, so you’re chest to chest.
“Your pancakes are going to burn,” you mumble, forehead resting on his.
“Let them.”
“No, don’t let them. I’m not calling the fire department today.”
He laughs, kissing you again chastely before returning to his original position. He plates up your breakfast - pancakes, fruit, granola and yoghurt, with fresh coffee in your favourite mug.
“I could get used to this.”
“And you will,” he flirts, kissing the crown of your head. “Every day for the rest of your life, baby. You’re gonna have to wake up to my face forever.”
You pretend to shudder, laughing when he pinches your side.
“Come on, trouble. Let’s eat breakfast on the balcony and pretend we’re on a tropical vacation somewhere.”
“Sounds perfect.”
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
“We’re really doing this.”
You look up at Bucky, the heavy weight of his arm around your shoulders acting as a grounding agent. Your plates are discarded on the table, cleared and finished, the two of you curled up in your loveseat. The sun is getting warmer, and it’s bringing out Bucky’s freckles, all boyish and glowy.
“We don’t have a choice.”
“Honey girl, there’s always a choice.”
“Not this time,” you sigh, shifting so you can face him properly. “I wanted to do this on our terms, and now I feel like I’ve been forced into it. It isn’t fair.”
“We can wait,” Bucky reassures, confident and understanding. “We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready.”
“I am ready. I have been for a while. It just sucks that it feels like I’ve been pushed in a certain direction, you know?”
“I know,” he soothes, work rough fingertips tracing patterns on your bare legs. “But like you said, we were going to do it anyway. This is still our choice. These are still our terms.”
You press your lips onto his cheek, chuckling when his stubble tickles your skin. He retaliates by attacking you with kisses, planting them all over your face, wherever he can reach. You squeal, hands flying out to his bare chest to try and stop him.
“Your neighbours are going to think there’s a murder happening,” Bucky laughs, fingers sliding up your shirt to rest on your ribs.
“Oh no, they love you too much for that.”
He quirks his eyebrows in surprise.
“They do?”
“The lady that lives next door, Mrs Daniels - she’s like ninety, has that white cat you always see?”
Bucky nods in recognition, so you continue.
“She talks about how handsome you are every time I see her. Always asks when the ‘man that looks like a movie star’ is coming over next.”
He laughs, shaking his head as you tease him.
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious! She probably watches you come and go from her balcony. She’s gonna love it in the summer, when you turn up in your short shorts with no shirt on.”
Bucky chuckles, pulling you into him and leaning his head on top of yours.
“Don’t be jealous, baby. You’re the only one for me.”
“I better be,” you chide jokingly, pinching his thigh in warning.
“I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”
There’s no humour, anymore. Just love. So much love.
“I’m here now,” you whisper. “And I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”
Bucky leans in to press a kiss to your lips, gentle and filled with a lifetimes worth of promise.
“I love you, honey baby.”
“I love you, Bucky Barnes.”
You let the morning sun slip over you like silk sheets, warm and smooth and completely luxurious. Bucky’s steady breathing grounds you slowly as peace and contentment settle into your bones, weighted and calming. No matter what happens today, you know one thing for certain - you have the security of Bucky’s love to fall back on.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You’ve been sat in Bucky’s truck for twenty five minutes.
It’s parked down the block from your parent’s house, just out of the way. You were pulling in to their street when you panicked, begging Bucky to stop the car so you could breathe for a second.
“Sweet girl, we’ll be fine.”
“I know. I know,” you exhale. Inhale again. “Why is this so hard?”
“Because we’ve been thinking about this moment ever since that first night.”
“It’s almost been a year.”
That seems to stop Bucky in his tracks for a second.
“It… it doesn’t feel that long. Feels like yesterday. But also, somehow, like I’ve loved you my whole life.”
You lean over the console to kiss him softly, trying to ignore the hummingbird fluttering of your heart in your chest.
“Honey, I can feel your anxiety, remember? If you don’t calm down a little, we’ll both collapse.”
“Sorry,” you laugh, taking a deep breath. “Sorry.”
Bucky intertwines his fingers with yours, thumb running over the backs of your knuckles. Soothing, like a field of lavender gently blowing in the breeze on the first day of spring.
“We have to do it sometime.”
“I know,” you nod, squeezing his hand once, twice, three times before pulling away and fixing your hair in the tiny mirror. “Let’s do this. Now or never.”
You pull up outside your childhood home, instantly relaxing a little at the sight of the colourful drapes and flowers in the windows.
“Shit, Buck. We haven’t even planned what we’re gonna say.”
“We don’t need to. Just speak from your heart, baby. I’ll follow your lead.”
When you walk up the driveway, you know there’s no turning back. You also know that the weight on your shoulders will feel a hell of a lot less heavy when you leave. It’s a double edged sword, but you’re ready to wield it, with love as your armour and Bucky as your shield.
You stand a foot apart and ring the doorbell, bouncing nervously on the soles of your feet.
“Hi, sweetheart. Oh - hey, Buck.”
“Hi, Mama.”
“Hi, Lori.”
“Didn’t expect to see you both today.”
You go to speak, but she continues quickly.
“I’m glad you’re here. We need to talk to you both about something. Come in, come in.”
You look at Bucky, realising suddenly that your chest is filled with a foreign anxiety. It’s his.
You squeeze his hand chastely as you walk past him to enter the house, kicking off your shoes in the hallway.
There’s something in the atmosphere when you walk into the living room. The sun is still shining, everything is in its rightful place… but it feels wrong. You know Bucky feels it too, judging by the way his muscles tense next to you.
“Is everything alright, Mama?”
You hate the way your voice sounds like a child’s, small and naive. Your Dad is sat on the couch waiting, always happy to see you. You press a kiss to his cheek before taking a seat across from him, Bucky sitting next to you. Your Mom joins your Dad, both of them looking at you with too much compassion for a normal day.
“What are you two doing here?” your Dad asks, voice still full of light.
Something inside of you is telling you to abort mission, postpone until further notice. You listen to it, wondering for a second if somehow you and Bucky can send messages to each other telepathically all of a sudden.
“Mama said you needed to talk to me. To us.”
He looks taken aback, only for a second. Something like sadness flashes in his eyes before he paints that familiar smile right back on his face.
“Yeah, we do. You sure you don’t wanna tell us why you’re here, first?”
“It can wait,” you reassure, catching Bucky’s minute nod from the corner of your eye.
“Okay,” your Mom begins. “First of all, I need to tell you not to panic, okay? It’s going to seem super scary, but it isn’t.”
Bucky slides closer to you by a millimetre, but you feel it like it’s a mile.
“I don’t really know how to tell you this, honey, so we’ll just start from the beginning. Jack?”
Your Dad nods before taking over the storytelling.
“It all started last year. I was doing some work in the backyard. One minute I was mowing the lawn, the next I was lying on the ground.”
All of the colour drains from your cheeks, and Bucky slides ever so slightly closer again.
“We thought maybe it was heat stroke, or dehydration. No cause for concern, and nothing your Mom’s iced tea couldn’t fix.”
She takes his hand in hers, both of them with their eyes fixed on you.
“But then it happened again. In the shower, this time. I didn’t hit my head, luckily, but I did whack my shoulder against the tiles, which hurt like hell.”
He laughs, and so does your Mom, but you’re not sure what’s funny. Anxiety is rolling off you in waves so strong, Bucky’s worried he might pass out.
Your Mom takes back the reigns, continuing.
“I was insistent that he saw a doctor, which he was reluctant about. Luckily, he agreed, finally,” she gives him a look, “and we got referred to a specialist.”
“What kind of specialist?” you choke out. It feels like someone is sitting on your chest, constricting your lungs with every passing minute.
“A cardiologist.”
It seems to be that word that unravels everything for you. All you can think is cardiologist heart attack cardiologist surgery cardiologist. Serious. Serious. Serious.
“Sweetheart?”
You grab Bucky’s hand, praying that the familiar touch will ground you back down to Earth. When it doesn’t, you feel like you’re falling, down and down and down with no end in sight.
“Honey, it’s okay. Hey, listen to me. You’re okay.”
Your Mom sits down on the other side of you as your Dad kneels down, forcing you to look at him.
“Sweetheart, don’t panic, okay? Everything’s going to be fine. I know it’s scary, but I’m okay.”
“For now,” you whisper, limp in your throat forming.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, and I know it’s probably not what you were expecting us to say. We thought we’d wait until we had answers to tell you… but it’s taking longer than expected. Which is why we’re telling you now. We don’t want you to feel like you’re in the dark.”
Bucky’s running his thumb over the lines on your palm, reassuring and steady. He knows exactly how to comfort you, like a warm blanket wrapped around your shoulders. If you listen carefully enough, you can hear the drumming beat of his heart. You tune into it, letting the familiar rhythm calm you down.
“Sorry,” you murmur. “I’m being dramatic.”
“You’re not being dramatic,” your Mom responds, squeezing her hand over your knee. “It’s overwhelming. And we’ve just… thrown it at you, with no warning. It’s a lot to take in.”
You’re anxious and scared and completely lost. You’re also safe and home and completely surrounded by love from all sides.
“I’m okay,” you nod, taking a deep breath.
Your parents return to their couch across from you, but Bucky’s hand doesn’t let go of yours. If they think it’s strange, they don’t say anything. You have a feeling they’re a little preoccupied.
“Now what?”
“Your Dad is still undergoing tests to get to the root of the issue. Whatever they find, we know we’ll all be okay.”
“Your Mom’s right. I have an appointment this afternoon for an EKG. They’re trying to rule things out slowly. We’ll get to the bottom of it, sweetheart.”
“Are you okay?” you ask, suddenly realising you’ve accidentally made this about you.
“I’m fine,” he laughs. “Seriously. I know it’s scary, but I feel good in myself for the most part. The most annoying thing is that I can’t predict it - it just happens. Very inconvenient, if you ask me.”
Your parents laugh, and this time, you try to chuckle with them.
“You’ll keep us updated, won’t you?”
Bucky’s voice surprises you, somehow. His fingers are still intertwined with yours, but you’ve been so focused on your Dad, you almost forgot he was there.
“Of course, Buck.”
“And if you ever need a ride to an appointment or anything, all you gotta do is ask, alright?”
“You offering to take me on your motorcycle?”
“Sure,” Bucky laughs.
“Absolutely not,” your Mom says at the same time.
You chuckle for real, now. This feels like normality - the four of you, joking around. You have to remind yourself, sometimes, that Bucky knew your Dad before he ever knew you. You were away at culinary school when they met, but you were told stories instantly about this new guy in town who bought the old Garage and drives a cool truck. Your Mom, of course, didn’t fail to mention his big blue eyes and chocolate brown hair, or the way his shirt hugged his biceps. You thought she was exaggerating, when she said he was handsome.
Oh, how wrong you were.
You’re one hundred percent sure you’ve never met a more beautiful person. Maybe it’s your Tethering talking. Maybe it isn’t. You’re not unaware of the way people look at Bucky - he’s got this old school movie star thing going on, and people seem to eat it up. You get it. You get it more than anyone.
But it isn’t his pretty face that makes your heart skip a beat. It’s just him. Him, with his contagious smile and healing laugh and observant eyes. Him, with his confident demeanour but gentle touch, his mind reading abilities, his talent for making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. He’s a rarity, Bucky Barnes. A diamond in the rough. You remind yourself everyday how lucky you are.
He knocks his knee into yours, pulling you out of your daydream. He gives you a look that asks are you okay? to which you nod subtly in reply. A conversation, somehow both silent and loud.
“As much as I’d love to stay here all day, we should get ready to go. My appointment is soon.”
Your Dad strides over to you, wrapping you in his arms. You instantly feel like a little girl again, safe and protected no matter what. You bury your face into his chest a little more, inhaling the familiar scent of your home.
“Everything’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispers into your hair. “Promise.”
You nod against him, tightening your arms ever so slightly. He gives you a squeeze, letting you know he got the message.
As you’re putting your shoes on in the hallway, you can hear your Dad and Bucky chatting away about the baseball game from the previous night, routine easily resumed. Your Mom brushes your hair back from your face, looking at you carefully.
“I almost forgot why you came here in the first place, babygirl. What’s up? What did you want to tell us?”
Your heart skips a beat and Bucky feels it, glancing over to you with concern in his ocean blue eyes.
“It’s okay, Mama. It can wait.”
She raises her eyebrows in scepticism.
“Promise,” you reassure. “Another day.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but lets it go anyway, pressing a kiss to your cheek gently.
“We’ll call you after his appointment and let you know what they say. We love you. So much.”
You hug her fiercely, realising that you don’t do it often enough.
“Love you guys. More than anything.”
Bucky gives you a nod that tells you he’s ready to go, both of you leaving a little different than you entered.
“Call us as soon as you get out of that room, okay?”
“We will, Buck,” your Dad laughs, mock saluting his best friend.
Bucky chuckles, falling into step next to you as you walk down the driveway. You make your way down the street, out of your parents view, before your knees give out. He manages to catch you just in time, strong arms wrapped around your middle. You both sit on the kerbside, Bucky rubbing soft patterns into your back through your shirt.
“Baby, hey. You okay? Talk to me.”
You take a deep breath, looking at him with watery eyes.
“What if it’s bad, Buck?” you whisper. “I can’t do this without him. He’s the best Dad in the world.”
Bucky pulls you closer, fitting you into his side perfectly. Two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, made for each other.
“They don’t lie to you, honey. They’d tell you if it was really serious. All you can do is wait, and hope everything will be okay. Which it will.”
You rest your head on his shoulder, letting his warmth calm you down.
“My Mama knows something.”
“Like what?”
“About us. She didn’t say anything, but I could see it on her face. She didn’t push it any further, but she was definitely suspicious.”
“We’ll tell her soon. Give it a little more time.”
You nod, wrapping your arms around his bicep tightly. He presses a kiss into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo as he does it.
“Let’s go home, hmm? We can sit in the sun for a while, chop up that pineapple we bought yesterday.”
“Sounds perfect,” you whisper, looking up at him.
The afternoon hits his face just right, all warm yellow light and soft angles on his cheeks. The intermittent salty breeze ruffles his hair, all fluffy and sea swept. He looks like an ancient statue, a work of art from the renaissance, a museum piece. The sun could burn out tomorrow, but you’ll have a life source forever. Your Soulmate.
Bucky takes your hands in his and helps you to your feet, heavy arm slung over your shoulders as you walk back to the truck.
Your light in the dark. Your water in the desert. You’ve never been more grateful for him.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
“Close your eyes.”
Bucky’s driving you home, the sound of the ocean waves hitting the shore a replacement for the radio.
“What?”
“Close your eyes, sugar. I want to show you something.”
“How are you gonna show me if my eyes are shut?”
He chuckles, pinching your thigh.
“Just shut up and close your eyes.”
You smile gently before doing as he says, covering your face with your hands for good measure.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise. You’ll like it, I promise.”
You relax back into the seat, allowing the breeze from the open window to whip through your hair. Eventually you come to a stop, Bucky clicking off your seatbelt for you.
“Keep ‘em closed.”
Bucky sprints around to the passenger side, swinging open the door and wrapping his arms around you. He practically carries you out of the car, ensuring you don’t trip while you have no vision. He plants you on two feet, making sure you’re steady before he lets go of you.
“Okay. Open your eyes.”
You blink slowly, adjusting to the brightness of the afternoon.
You’re in the middle of nowhere. The two of you are stood on a huge, grassy plot of land, overlooking a small cove of the beach. You’re tucked completely out of the way, not a neighbour to be seen. All you can hear is the ocean, the birds, and the sound of your thumping heartbeat.
“Where are we, Buck? It’s pretty.”
He takes your hand, looking out towards the water.
“This is gonna be our house.”
Your head whips around in shock, confusion written all over your face.
“What?”
Your voice is barely above a whisper, but Bucky hears it, clear as day.
“I bought this land years ago, when I moved to town. I always knew I wanted to build a place of my own, but I could never get the plans off the ground. Something didn’t feel right. And then our Tethering happened…”
He squeezes your hand tightly, pulling you into his side.
“And everything fell into place. I was waiting for the right moment to show you, and it feels like you needed it today.”
You can’t speak. You’re completely lost for words, looking out at the perfect view. Turning to him, you throw your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of it and inhaling.
“Thank you,” you murmur into his skin. “It’s so perfect. You’re so perfect.”
“I’m so lucky,” he chuckles. “My God, you were worth the wait. I’d wait another ten lifetimes if I meant I got to love you again for one of them.”
You’re glad he’s holding onto you, or you’re convinced your legs would give out. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, savouring the spearmint on his tongue.
“I love you,” you pray into his mouth. “I love you so much I can barely breathe.”
He kisses you back, harder, determined to show you exactly how he feels about you. Your fingers tangle into his hair, making him groan as you tug. His hands slide down to your ass, gripping harshly as he pulls you into his front. He wants every inch of you pressed together.
When you pull away, he rests his forehead against yours.
“You can have anything you want, you know.”
“Hmm?”
“With the house. I know we talked about it that night, at dinner in California. But if you think of anything else you’d like, all you gotta do is tell me.”
“One storey or two?”
“I was always thinking two.”
“Then I’d like a balcony, on the master bedroom. I love mine back at my apartment, especially in the summer.”
“Done,” he confirms, pecking your lips again.
“And a porch,” you whisper. “That we can sit on and watch the waves, when we’re old and grey.”
“I’ll be grey a lot sooner than you,” he jokes.
“You’re a lot more relaxed than me,” you laugh. “So I doubt that, actually.”
You rest your head on his warm chest, both of you swaying to the song of the ocean.
“We’ve got plenty of time, Buck.”
“All the time in the world, honey girl.”
The two of you stay wrapped in each other for a little while longer, enjoying the company of the one person you were destined for.
You can’t remember why you were ever so against soulmates. Loving Bucky is the easiest thing you’ve ever done.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon curled up on the balcony, letting the sun warm you from the outside in.
“Pineapple will always remind me of those margaritas,” Bucky smiles, throwing a piece into his mouth. “Our first date.”
“And last, apparently,” you laugh. “We haven’t been on one since.”
“I mean, we sort of date everyday, right?”
“Yeah, I guess we do. After we’ve told my parents, we don’t have to worry anymore. We can go out whenever we want, whenever we want.”
“Exactly,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you tenderly. “Not long now.”
The sound of your phone ringing startles you both, your hand flying out to find it in the cushions of the loveseat.
“Hello?”
“Oh, thank God. I half thought you were dead.”
“Not dead, Lacie. Just busy.”
She laughs, and you realise suddenly how much you’ve missed that sound.
“You’re back in town, right?”
“Yeah, just for a few more days. Then I’m gonna go back to Cali and pack up my stuff for good.”
“Perfect! Me and you are doing dinner tomorrow night. I want you to meet Cameron.”
“Really? Finally! I’m so excited, Lace. Your place, or are we going out?”
“Come to mine. Cam is the best cook, seriously. I’ve gotta run, we’re picking out a couch today. A couch, babe! Can you believe it?”
“Happy couch shopping, you two,” you laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”
“Love you, bestie! Bye!”
You can’t help but smile when you hang up the phone.
“She’s gonna love having you back home again, isn’t she?”
“Oh, yeah. I can’t wait to see her more. I know she’s been so busy with her soulmate and me with work and with you, but I miss her like crazy. We text all the time, but it isn’t the same.”
“She knows about us, right?”
“Yeah,” you giggle. “She was the first person I told.”
“Thought so,” he laughs, pulling you back into his side. “Knew you wouldn’t be able to keep it from her for long.”
“She can practically read my mind. It was easier to avoid the truth over the phone, but the minute I saw her in person, I crumbled. She gives me this look, and I’m done for.”
Bucky chuckles fondly, pressing a kiss to your temple.
“I can’t wait to get to know her properly.”
“Oh, she’s gonna love you.”
“I hope so.”
“She will, trust me. She used to talk about how hot you were all the time. Pre-Cameron, of course.”
“I’m glad you’re finally getting to meet him.”
“Me too. I feel guilty, you know. It was the biggest moment of her life, and all of a sudden I’m up and leaving across the country, barely keeping in touch through scattered text messages. I was so wrapped up in you and in work, that I wasn’t there for her like I should have been.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand if you say this to her, honey baby. You have to remember that her Tethering was a lot less complicated than ours. They just got on with things, as easy as can be.”
“I guess you’re right,” you murmur into his chest. “I’ll tell her all of this when I see her tomorrow.”
He wraps both arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer. You relax instantly, the warmth of his skin and familiarity of his touch soothing you like melted honey.
Your phone rings again.
“I bet it’s Lacie moving the plans around,” you chuckle. “She always underestimates how long it takes her to get everything ready.”
You find your phone from under the cushion and answer it.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“Mama?”
“Where are you?”
The sun disappears behind a cloud, sending a shiver down your spine.
“I’m at home.”
“I need you to go and get Bucky, and come to the hospital.”
Your heart stops in your chest, and Bucky has to breathe for the both of you.
“Why?” you ask, barely above a whisper.
“I’ll explain when you get here, but it’s more serious than we thought.”
She sounds scared, which in turn terrifies you. She’s the bravest person you know, your Mom. If she’s afraid, you know it’s bad.
“Okay,” you choke out. “I’m leaving right now. I, uh, I’ll get Bucky, and - do you need anything? Does Dad? I can bring whatever… whatever you need, what do you need?”
“Nothing, baby girl. Just you guys, for now, okay?”
“Okay. Yeah, okay. I, uh, I- I- I’ll leave right now. Where is he?”
“Follow the signs for Cardiology when you get here. Room 4.”
“He’s in a room? In a bed? Mama, please. What’s happening?”
You’ve never heard your voice sound so weak. You’re kicking yourself internally - you have to be strong for her. You need to be.
“Baby, just get here as soon as you can, okay? Get Bucky to drive. I love you.”
“I love you too. So much.”
You try to hang up the phone, but your hands are shaking so much that you’re unable to press the red button. Bucky does it for you, intertwining your fingers with his.
He pulls you to your feet, smoothing your hair back from your face.
“It’s all going to be okay, honey. Put your shoes on and grab your purse. I’ll get my keys.”
He kisses your forehead gently, letting his lips linger for a second before pulling you inside and shutting the balcony door.
He doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time, even as you drive to the hospital.
You feel like you’re drowning. Repeatedly slipping beneath the surface of the water, lungs heaving, desperate to stay afloat.
Bucky feels it, too. All he can do is hold your hand and hope for the best.
All he can do is hold your hand and hope for the best.
Chapter Synopsis - You finally start to appreciate the happiness that having a soulmate brings.
Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au
Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. so much fluff.
Age Rating - 18+
Word Count - 5k
Author's Note - the sixth installment!! thank you to everyone who voted in my poll - I listened, and decided to make this chapter as sweet as pie, because I think we all need it. it's nice to have a little break from the angst. just a liiiiittle break though. a tiny one. as always, thank you for all of your love and support and enthusiasm and patience and kindness towards this story. so much love for every one of you. <3
as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3
Masterlist. Inbox.
"Are you happy?"
You stretch your feet further into the sand and sit up, wiggling to get comfortable on the picnic blanket.
"That's a big question to start with."
Stella laughs and closes her notebook, deciding to take a different route than originally planned.
"I just mean... be honest with me. I'm not gonna be offended if you say no."
"Do you think I'm gonna say no?"
"Do you always have to answer my questions with questions?"
You tilt your head and watch her, smiling softly.
"I thought this was supposed to be an employee performance review."
"You're not my employee and you know it."
Both of you laugh, the sound whipped away by the sea breeze.
"Then what am I, Stella?" you chuckle.
"You're basically my partner. Come on, we've done all of this together. You helped me build this business from the ground up - I couldn't have done it without you."
You go to protest, so she continues.
"I think you should be. My partner, that is. Obviously there's logistics to work out, but it'd be fifty fifty. You and I, co-owners. It doesn't feel right to me that you're my 'employee'. I'm not your boss. We're equals."
Your mind is running a mile a minute, trying to process what Stella's asking of you. Being her business partner is an opportunity you know is rare and incredibly special - and it could potentially set you up for life - but you can't help but think about the fact it's a big commitment. About home. About Bucky.
"You don't have to answer me right now - I just want you to think about it. We always talked about opening up businesses of our own. I should have asked you to be my partner at the beginning, but honestly... I didn't know if you were gonna stick around. It kinda felt like you had one foot out the door when we started."
You take a deep breath, nodding.
"Yeah. I, uh - I think I did. Don't get me wrong, I was super excited, but the idea of moving away when I felt like I'd just got home was a lot to process. I'd just settled back there, and then I was gonna be packing up all of my stuff again and shipping myself across the country. "
"I didn't realise it was so tough for you, you know. I just assumed you wouldn't mind moving. I mean, you were always up for it, back at school."
"Things changed, after I graduated. I got home, and a couple of things happened and I guess it just... turned everything upside down. Home is different now. In a good way, I think."
"You're different now, too."
You look at her carefully, half attempting to read her mind.
"How do you mean?"
"You're... more grounded. More careful. You think through everything way more than you ever did. Almost like you've realised you're not invincible anymore."
There's a feeling, when you're young, that you're indestructible. Unharmable. Broken bones mend, cuts and bruises heal, hearts and minds forget about their aches if you give them long enough.
Then one day, that feeling is gone. And you realise that you're mortal - made of flesh and blood and bones that will one day be returned to the Earth, whether you like it or not.
Meeting your soulmate is like having that realisation again, but bigger. Again, and again, and again. You don't live for yourself, anymore. You live for them. The pain they'd feel if they lost you is unfathomable, completely unimaginable.
So you become more careful. Less reckless. You drive a little slower, take things a little easier, quit your dangerous hobbies and unhealthy habits. You need to be alive for as long as possible. And you know your soulmate will do the same.
That's how you can tell a Tethered person from an Untethered one. Ask two people to go skydiving with you, and the Tethered one will tell you no. They can't risk it. It's not worth it.
Stella's right. You have realised you're not invincible anymore. You're a little more cautious when you climb ladders, you don't balance precariously on the kitchen counters anymore. You look twice when you cross the street, and don't risk it if there's a car coming and you could maybe get across.
You're also painfully aware that Bucky's older than you. He'll be turning forty in less than two years. Sure, he's not ancient, but it does mean you'll have less time together than Lacie will with Cameron, for example. And that hard truth makes you live a little less recklessly, every single day.
"I guess I just... grew up."
You're honestly not sure why you don't just tell Stella about Bucky. You know she'd understand. But there's a part of you that feels protective over what you have - territorial, even. Your Tethering is sacred, almost, and you feel the primal urge to guard it with your life. To lock it in a box and keep it away from anything that could harm it. The less people that know, the less damage that can be done. Maybe.
"I did too. The world is kinda scary now we're not in that little culinary school bubble, huh?"
"Yeah," you laugh. "We thought that was hard. Little did we know."
"Take your time, thinking about my offer. But just know that I really, really appreciate the fact that you're here. That you believed in me enough to move across the country. It means a lot."
"Of course," you say, reaching across to grab her hand. "I always believed in you, Stella. I always knew you'd do something great."
"We'd."
"Hmm?"
"We'd do something great. The two of us. Together."
"I always knew that we'd do something great," you correct.
You're starting to believe that, as time goes on. You were born to do this. You deserve to live your dreams.
Let the happiness seep through, you'd told yourself.
It finally feels like it is.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"There's a guy here to see you."
Isabel pops her head around the door, grinning at you like she knows something you don't.
"Again?"
She nods, giggling.
"Let me guess... he's hot, tall, brown hair?"
"Bingo."
"Thanks, Isa. I'll be right out. Is it busy out there?"
"It's quieter than it was. There was a pastry rush this morning, but we're good now."
You laugh and hang up your apron, washing your hands quickly before making your way to the café.
You feel like you're having déjà vu, this situation oddly familiar.
Just like Isa said, he's stood waiting with his back to you, broad shoulders filling out his powder blue short sleeve button up.
You're excited to see Rafael again. You've been trying a new cookie recipe for his sister, and you're eager to get him to try it. You're mentally making a note to buy a nice box to put them in when you feel it.
The lights get a little brighter, the colours a little more vibrant. The tightness in your chest eases, allowing you to take a full, deep breath. You can suddenly hear the birds outside singing, melodies drifting through the open doors like a summer breeze.
The man turns around, and it's not Rafael.
It's Bucky.
You're moving before you can even process it, running and jumping into his arms. You inhale, revelling in his familiar scent. He's here. Your happiness has arrived.
"Surprise," he laughs quietly into your ear. "Miss me, honey girl?"
You beam a grin at him, pulling away to look at his handsome face.
"More than you'll ever know."
"Oh, I know. I feel it."
He places a hand over his heart gently, looking at you with pure adoration.
"What are you doing here?"
"It's been a month since your Mom's birthday. A month since I've seen your pretty face. A month too long."
You roll your eyes jokingly, so he continues.
"You don't mind that I'm here, do you? Because I'll go, if it's too much for you. I know me showing up unannounced is a lot to process."
"Don't go," you reply quickly, grabbing his hand. "I want you here, Buck. More than anything."
He leans in and presses his lips to yours, cradling your face in his warm hands. The background of the café melts away, the man in front of you the only thing that matters.
You pull away and smile at him, pressing your forehead into his gently.
"Come back to the kitchen with me. Let's get away from all the noise."
You grab his hand and pull him with you, ignoring the excited giggling from Isabel behind the counter.
Bucky perches against a counter, leaning back to allow you to stand in between his legs. You wrap your arms around his neck and peck his lips, stealing kisses in between giddy smiles.
"I hope you weren't expecting a day full of super exciting adventures. I've got a list full of stuff I've got to get finished by closing."
"Honey, I'm more than content to stay here and watch you work. There's nothing I love more than watching you bake."
You run your fingertips over his face carefully, gently tracing his features as you look at him.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I don't care what we do, as long as we're together."
You wrap your arms around his middle, holding him as tightly as you can.
"I feel like I hit the soulmate jackpot," you whisper.
"No one's as lucky as I am," he whispers back. "Now, come on. Let me see you work your magic."
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Bucky, it turns out, makes a damn good assistant.
Instead of just watching, he volunteers to help in whatever way he can. You set him onto weighing your ingredients, so you can focus on making and decorating. He takes his job very seriously, measuring down to the precise gram each time. You can't help but grin as you watch him concentrate, determined to get it right.
At lunch time, Isabel brings you both coffee and sandwiches, entering just as you're teaching Bucky how to properly fold in ingredients.
"Sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"You could never. Isa, this is Bucky. Buck, this is Isabel. Our best waitress."
He holds out his floury hand for her to shake.
"It's nice to meet you, Isabel. I've heard a lot about you."
"You have?"
Her eyes light up as she looks at you, fighting the smile off her face.
"My honey talks about you all the time."
Isabel glances between the two of you, clearly trying to figure things out.
"And you two are..."
"Soulmates," you say at the same time as Bucky does.
Her jaw drops for a moment, before she laughs.
"Yeah. That makes a lot of sense, actually."
You roll your eyes at her lovingly before Stella's voice calls her name from out front.
"I better go. But me and you are gonna talk about this later."
"Fine," you laugh.
"Nice to meet you!" Bucky shouts after her, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I like that we're just telling people now."
"Yeah, me too, actually. I thought it'd be scary, but... it feels right."
He slings an arm around your middle, pulling you into his side.
"We've still got the two most important people left to tell."
Your muscles tense and Bucky feels it instantly, running his thumb in patterns over your hip gently.
"I've been thinking about it a lot. I'm almost ready, Buck. We can't avoid it forever. Next time I'm home, I think we should do it. We should tell them."
Bucky hooks two fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him.
"Are you sure? Once we tell them, we can't undo it. We'll only do it if you're one hundred percent sure."
"I'll be ready when the time comes. It'll be a huge weight off of both of our shoulders, which I think we both need."
"Okay then," he says, kissing your forehead. "Next time you're home."
Isabel clears her throat from the doorway, smiling sheepishly.
"I can't believe I'm saying this again, but... there's a guy here to see you."
You laugh, untangling yourself from Bucky with a kiss to his cheek.
"Send him through. Thanks, Isa."
The man you were originally expecting to see this morning walks into the kitchen, envelopes in his hand.
"Hey!"
"Hey, Rafael."
He gives you a quick hug, before waving at Bucky.
"Hey, man. You've gotta be the soulmate, right?"
Bucky chuckles, coming over to shake Raf's hand.
"Yeah, that's me. How'd you know?"
"Are you kidding? You can feel it the minute you walk into the room. There's like, electricity in here."
You laugh, hiking yourself up to sit on the counter. Bucky stands next to you, arms crossed over his broad chest.
"Here," Rafael says, handing you an envelope. "We're having a gala next month, for the charity that has supported my sister. We'd love it if you could come - and bring your date too, of course."
"I'd love to," you say as you read the invitation. "Do you need me to bring anything? You know I'll happily make something, if you guys need it."
"You would?"
"Absolutely! I could bring a cake, if you like? I haven't done a proper, three tiered cake in forever. I'd love to."
"That'd be... amazing. Seriously. We just want to raise as much money as possible."
"Of course. Thanks for these, Raf. How is she?"
"She's okay. She's getting a tiny bit stronger every day, and that's all we can really ask for."
You reach a hand out to squeeze his in support.
"You know where I am if you need anything."
"Of course. Thank you, so much. I've gotta run - I've got like a hundred of these invites to deliver. But I'll see you at the weekend?"
"For sure. See you, Raf!"
"Nice to meet you, Bucky."
"You too, man. Take care."
Isa shows Rafael out of the door, winking at you on her way out.
"Damn, he's handsome," Bucky laughs.
"Isn't he?" you giggle. "Nothing on my soulmate though, I'm afraid."
"Shut up," he blushes, leaning in to capture your lips. "You wanna get dinner when you're done here?"
"Yes, please. I'll show you around my new apartment too."
"Can't wait."
There's not an ounce of tension in your muscles as you finish up your bakes for the day, gliding around the kitchen while Bucky stands and watches your every move.
If you could pause time, this would be when you'd do it. You'd be content to live in this moment forever.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The minute Bucky walks through your front door, he inhales deeply. The entire place smells like you, cosy and golden.
"You like it?"
"It's gorgeous, baby. I love the windows."
He makes his way over to your kitchen, where the glass panes run from floor to ceiling. Sitting on the bench pressed against it, he takes in the view, savouring the feeling of the sun on his face.
You sit down on his lap, draping your legs over him and wrapping your arms around his neck. Nuzzling your face into his jaw, you press a kiss to the stubble, resisting the urge to lick the salt off of his skin.
"Come on," you murmur. "Let me show you my bedroom. The sun sets in that direction, so it's always beautiful in there."
You grab his hand and walk him across the apartment, swinging open the door to your room and pushing him inside.
He takes in the space for a moment before turning in your direction, striding over to smash his lips to yours. You tangle your fingers into his shirt and pull him closer, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth with ease.
Bucky leans in to trail kisses down your neck as he slips your shirt over your head, making quick work of unclasping your bra with skilled fingers. He grasps your chest in both hands, massaging gently as he nips at your throat.
"So fucking pretty," he murmurs. "Haven't stopped thinking about you since you left me."
You whine and unbutton his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders. You're desperate to see more, desperate to feel his skin on yours, desperate to bare every inch of him.
Your fingers make deft work of his belt, sliding it from its loops and throwing it to the ground. You unpop his button and slide down the zipper, pulling his jeans off his legs in no time. You shimmy out of your skirt, leaving you both in your underwear.
The evening sun seeps through the window panes, illuminating the room in hues of orange and gold. The light hits Bucky's skin, making him glow in a halo of love and adoration.
He walks you backwards, wrapping an arm around your back to throw you onto the white sheets of your bed. Crawling over you, he settles in between your legs, pressing gentle kisses from your ankles to your inner thighs.
"The way you look when you come has been burned in my mind," he whispers. "Need to see it again. It's been too long."
He slides your underwear down your legs and wastes no time, diving into you like a man starved. He devours you, tongue never ceasing it's movements. His hands pry your thighs apart, one arm thrown over your stomach to keep you still. When your muscles start to shake, Bucky doubles down on his efforts, lapping and sucking at you like you're his lifesource.
"Oh, Buck, I'm-"
You see stars as you come, white and silver shapes flying through your vision. Bucky never stops, prolonging your release for as long as he can. When you go boneless, he ceases, pressing kisses to the inside of your knee.
"You okay?" he murmurs, moving so his body smothers yours.
"I'm good," you smile, leaning up to kiss him. You groan when you taste yourself, wrapping your legs around his waist.
"Need you, baby. Please, Buck."
"You sure?"
You smile at him, cradling his face in your hands.
"Couldn't be surer."
He dips down to lick into your mouth once more, shucking his boxers off and throwing them across the room. Slipping a condom on, he lines himself up, eyes meeting yours.
"I need you more than I need air to breathe," he murmurs. "You know that, don't you?"
"Buck," you breathe. "I've been going crazy here without you."
He goes to speak, but stops himself, instead leaning down to kiss your forehead.
"I know," you whisper. "I know."
Bucky slides home in one smooth thrust, both of you gasping. One of his hands finds your hip, the other resting against your throat as an anchor. You wrap your legs around his waist, arms snaking around his shoulders.
"Fuck me, please."
"Fuck," he groans. "I'll be replaying that in my head forever."
You chuckle breathlessly, gasping when he draws his hips back and forward again. He sets an even pace - not too fast, not too slow. He has you right where he wants you, both of your bodies in perfect synchronisity. It feels like the stars have aligned. Everything's fallen into place.
Bucky dances his fingers from your hip to your clit, rubbing firm circles. He plays you like a violin, your muscles tensing as you get closer.
"That's it, pretty girl. Fuck, you're so good for me. You close, honey? Gonna come for me again?"
You nod frantically as he picks up his pace, hips colliding with yours. He groans as you tighten around him, head dropping to rest against yours.
"Come for me, honey girl," he whispers. "Please."
Your back arches as you find your release, nails scratching at the skin of Bucky's back. The pain tips him over the edge, spilling inside of you with a deep groan. He collapses on top of you, both of your chests heaving.
"I think we're naturals at that," you chuckle hoarsely.
"You think it's the soulmate thing, or are we just that good?"
"I think we're just that good," you laugh, pushing him off your body so he lands next to you. You link your fingers with his, resting your head on his chest.
"I need a drink."
"I was just thinking that, actually. You wanna go out? Know anywhere?"
"There's a cute little bar that looks out over the cove - it has good food and good cocktails. You wanna go there?"
"I'd go anywhere with you," he affirms, pressing a kiss into your hair.
"I'd kill for a pineapple margarita right now."
Bucky sits up suddenly, bringing you with him, arms wrapped around you.
"Then let's go get my girl a pineapple margarita."
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The golden lights adorn the beams of wood above your head, the deck illuminated in the gentle glow. The ocean waves break the shore in a comfortingly repetitive motion, a calming soundtrack to the evening. You sit across from Bucky at your table for two, the sunset casting orange hues across the horizon.
"It's beautiful out here."
"Yeah," you agree, smiling. "The view is pretty good."
Your eyes haven't left his, lost in the sea blue of his irises. He chuckles, running his thumb over the back of your hand where it rests atop the table.
"This is our first date, you know."
"Really?"
"I mean, we've been 'dating' this whole time - but we've never gone out and had dinner like this. Held hands and all."
"You're right. Our first date of many, huh?"
"Our first of countless," he grins, brushing his lips over your knuckles in a gentle kiss.
"Where do my parents think you are?"
"Visiting a cousin in Nevada."
You laugh, and the sound makes Bucky light up, electricity running through his veins.
"You're a scarily good liar."
"To everyone but you."
"I used to think I was a good liar. Until I met you, that is."
Just as he's about to respond, your waitress appears, two pineapple margaritas in hand. She takes your orders and leaves, smiling at you.
"Oh, shit. She forgot to give us straws. I'm gonna grab some - be right back."
You chase her inside, tapping her shoulder gently.
"Excuse me - could I get a couple of straws, please?"
"Of course. Sorry!" she apologises, handing them to you.
"Thank you! Your shirt is so cute, by the way."
"Thanks - it's thrifted! You're gorgeous, girl. And your boyfriend is stupidly hot too. You're a pretty couple."
You thank her and laugh, returning to Bucky with a grin on your face.
"What's got you smiling?"
"The waitress called you my boyfriend."
"Huh. As much as I love the commitment... boyfriend kinda sounds like we're in ninth grade, doesn't it?"
You throw your head back, laughing with your entire being.
"That's what I thought. There's gotta be a better word. Partner? No, that makes us sound forty."
"I am almost forty."
"Oops."
Bucky rolls his eyes, but he can't wipe the blinding grin from his face. He takes out his phone and snaps a quick picture of you, admiring the way the breeze caresses your face as the setting sun beats down.
"Sneaky," you tease. "Let me see?"
He hands you the phone, letting you look through. You swipe right one too many times, and accidentally land on a picture of a blueprint laid out across a kitchen counter. His kitchen counter.
"Babe... what's this?"
You don't miss the way Bucky's cheeks heat up, blush creeping across his chest that's exposed by the V neckline of his blue button up. He stutters for a moment, before finding his footing.
"They're blueprints. Plans for a house."
"A house?"
"I want to build a house."
When you keep looking at him softly, he doubles down.
"I want to build a house for us."
Your breath hitches in your chest, the world going silent momentarily.
"You... you do?"
"My Dad worked in construction my entire childhood. I watched him build houses, apartment buildings, bungalows... everything. I've always wanted to do it, but never had reason to. Until now."
You squeeze his hand, urging him to continue.
"I've been planning it for upwards of ten years. But I'm taking it more seriously, now. Those blueprints are the final ones. It's all mapped out, down to the square inch. I've made some modifications for you, obviously."
He zooms in on the picture, pointing out areas on the plans.
"I've added a big island in the kitchen with a tonne of storage in it, for all of your supplies. I know you have that huge mixer, so I've made sure there's enough space for it to fit underneath with the doors closed."
You take a deep breath, lump in your throat forming unwillingly.
"Up here, there's a window at the top of the stairs. I've added a sketch of a bench which I'll upholster, so you can sit and read in the sunlight."
Tangling your legs with his under the table, you urge him to continue.
"I've also made sure there's a balcony off the master bedroom that overlooks the garden. I know how much you love sitting on yours in your apartment at home. There's probably like a hundred more little modifications for you, but those are just a few."
Tears are running down your cheeks freely, emotion escaping you like a flash flood.
"Bucky..."
"If it's too much too soon, please tell me. I won't be offended, baby. I know it's a lot."
"It's perfect."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
You jump up from your seat and around the table, throwing yourself into his lap to kiss him happily.
"I can't wait to build a house with you, Buck."
He grins at you, joy radiating off him in waves.
"Buck?"
"Hmm?"
"I love you."
He blinks back tears for a second, processing the words he's been waiting to hear for what feels like an eternity.
"I love you too, honey girl. My pretty baby."
He leans in to kiss you tenderly, the rest of the world melting away. It feels like it's just the two of you, floating on cloud nine.
Suddenly, you get it. You understand why people say this is the greatest thing that'll ever happen.
It is. They were right all along.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
After several pineapple flavoured cocktails and a taco or four, you and Bucky take a slow stroll home, hand in hand along the sidewalk.
"You wanna have a sleepover tonight?" you ask, digging your heels into the ground to stop yourself from skipping with glee.
"Can't think of anything I want more," he chuckles.
You walk a little while longer, content to bask in the comfortable silence.
"Guess what happened a few days ago."
"What, honey?"
"Stella asked me to be her business partner."
He stops where he is, turning to face you but never letting go of your hand.
"Wait, really?"
"Mhmmm."
"And how do you feel about that?"
"I was unsure, at first. But I'm going to do it. I've been thinking about this for a while, actually. We had to take a business class in culinary school, and I actually learned a lot. I've had a business plan for the future of the café drafted up for months. Numbers, locations, investors, everything. I'm really serious about this, you know."
He's gazing at you like you hung the moon, eyes bright and adoring.
You sit down on a bench, looking out over the coastal path. Bucky joins you, arm heavy over your shoulders.
"I can't stay here."
His head whips around.
"Baby..."
"I mean it, Buck. I like this city, I do, but I just can't settle. It feels like a placeholder until I can go home. And it's not fair to Stella, if it feels like I'm half in half out."
He goes to speak, but you're on a roll.
"I'm suggesting that we franchise the business. It's the logical next step anyway, it was just a matter of choosing the right location. I'm proposing somewhere a hell of a lot closer to home. To you. To my parents. And that means we'll have one branch on the east coast, and one on the west. We can start filling the middle, in the future."
"Are you... are you sure?"
"I've never been surer of anything, James Buchanan Barnes. I wanna start my life with you. Telling my parents, building a house, furthering my career. I'm ready, now."
Bucky grabs your face in his warm hands, kissing you with more passion than you ever thought possible. It's all the answer you need.
"I want you to read over my plan, when we get back to my place. But it's tight, Buck. I've been perfecting it for months. There's no way Stella can say no - I've made it so she won't want to. Besides, she just wants me to be happy. And this... this will make me happy. Happy beyond words."
Bucky stands up, wrapping his arms around your middle to bring you with him. He spins you around, laughing when you squeal in surprise.
"I'm so proud of you, honey baby. I love you so much."
"I love you," you grin. "More than I ever thought possible."
Bucky practically carries you home, both of you giddy on excitement and hope.
You wake up tangled in his arms, sunlight beaming down onto your skin through the open window. Happiness, you think. It's finally here.
Chapter Four. Chapter Six. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.
Chapter Synopsis - Does absence make the heart grow fonder, or does it just make everything ten times more difficult?
Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au
Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. angst. mention of illness.
Age Rating - 18+
Word Count - 5.7k
Author's Note - it's here!! as always, I can't thank you enough for your love, support and patience with this fic. us writers lead busy lives, and i've been trying my hardest to find the time to write whenever I can, so it means so much that you guys stick with me - even when things take longer than expected. love you all. you're angels. please feel free to spam my inbox with thoughts and suggestions - it always makes my day when you're all so passionate. mwah.
as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3
Masterlist. Inbox.
The sand is warm beneath your feet, cooling breeze cascading across your skin. The waves caress the shore in repetitive motions, lulling you into calm.
Sunlight beaming down, you shield your eyes and look up, sighing in contentment at the shades of blue that paint the sky.
A shriek and a laugh come from somewhere on your right. You look over and see a couple and their toddler running after each other, sprinting down the beach and into the ocean. The little girl can't stop giggling, tripping over her own feet as she chases her parents. Something tugs at your heart, deep and visceral.
It's been three months since you left home.
It's been three months since you saw Bucky.
He calls every few days, trying to give you the space you need while also keeping in touch. You have to resist the urge to call him every ten minutes. It's an improvement, at least. It was five minutes when you first moved.
He texts you good morning and goodnight everyday without fail, just to let you know he's there. You can't sleep until you get his text. It's like a lullaby, reassuring and soothing. Like a chamomile tea, warming and calming you from the inside out.
You think about him the most at night time. Your days are spent running around preparing for the bakery. Testing, retesting, writing up recipes, measuring out quantities. You want it to be perfect.
The baking is taking your mind off Bucky, for the moment at least. You've thrown yourself into your new role, eager and excited. Stella's ecstatic to have you around. You love that you're still just as close as you were, despite the time apart. Friendships like that are rare.
Lacie calls you most nights. She demands to know what you did that day, who you spoke to, what you made. It's like therapy, sitting and decompressing together over videochat. She's a lifeline, whether she knows it or not.
And of course, the most supportive people in your life - your parents. Your Mom is desperate to come and visit, begging that you let her know when you're less busy so you can show her around. She loves the sunshine just as much as you. A woman after your own heart.
On the nights when the doubt creeps in, unwelcome and dark, you remind yourself how lucky you are. Surrounded by people who adore you, support you, love you unconditionally. And then the night doesn't seem so dark. The light pours through the cracks.
You walk home from the beach, warmed and carried by the knowledge of love.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"This is ridiculous."
Stella's perched on the edge of your countertop, blush pink macaron in her hand.
"Good ridiculous?"
She scoffs, looking at you incredulously.
"Where did your confidence go? You never doubted yourself in school. Yes, good ridiculous. It shouldn't work, but it does."
Shouldn't work, but it does. Seems to be the story of your life at the moment.
"I need these on the menu."
"You don't think they're a little... pretentious? My best seller is a chocolate chip cookie. A honey and rosewater macaron isn't exactly a childhood favourite."
"Babe. That's the beauty of this. You can put whatever the hell you want out in your bakery. So what if they're unconventional? They're delicious. That's all that matters."
"Okay. Fine."
You relent, thinking about her earlier question. Where did your confidence go? When you graduated culinary school, you never doubted your abilities. Your technique, your flavours, your presentation - you had full faith in all of it. Now, you seem to be second guessing yourself.
You know it's because of your Tethering.
Before, you understood how the world worked. Good, bad, in between. Love, lust, the very clear difference between the two. You watched as other people found their forever person, and acknowledged their new journey.
And then you found Bucky. Or, Bucky found you.
Suddenly, the world you'd lived in before no longer made sense. The people, the places, the relationships, all impacted by the way you feel about your soulmate. Everything, everyone, everywhere, reminds you of Bucky. You're experiencing emotions you've never felt before. It's disorientating, confusing, complex. Your understanding of the world has changed completely.
It takes time to adjust.
No one ever talks about the way your Tethering turns your life upside down.
For some, it's completely positive. They enjoy the uprooting, revel in the change.
For others, it's a huge adaptation. One filled with tears, and confusion, and doubts.
Both are valid. Both are understandable.
You remind yourself of this every day.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"There's someone in the café that wants to speak to you."
The youngest waitress, Isabel, stands in the kitchen doorway, looking at you hopefully. You set down your piping bag and wash your hands, talking to her over your shoulder.
"Who is it?"
"No idea. Some guy. He's kinda hot. Brown hair, tall, beard."
Your heart skips a beat, breath caught in your lungs. Bucky jokes sometimes about coming to see you, but would he just show up announced? Do you want him to?
You can't feel it in your chest, you realise suddenly. You can't feel the ease, the relief, the knowing. Maybe being apart for so long has weakened your connection. The thought makes you strangely emotional.
You inhale carefully and thank her, before making your way out. It's almost closing time, and there's no one around other than the man stood with his back to you.
He turns around, and you realise quickly that your hope was misplaced. You've never seen this person before. He is handsome, admittedly. But he's not your soulmate.
"Hi."
"Hey. Are you the baker here?"
"I am."
He holds out his hand for you to shake, stepping closer.
"I'm Rafael."
You tell him your name, and he smiles, nodding.
"Forgive me if this is weird, but I had to meet you. To thank you properly, in person."
You don't say anything, so he continues.
"Let me, uh, explain. Sorry, should have started with that. My sister is sick. She's going through treatment currently, and it's been super hard on her. She's had no appetite whatsoever, and she's losing weight rapidly."
He takes a deep breath before continuing.
"A couple of weeks ago, I picked up a load of stuff from this place because my Mom was coming to visit. My sister tried your earl grey and lavender cookie, and ate the entire thing. It was the first time I've seen her eat for weeks. So, I came back and bought basically all of them every day."
You laugh, coming to a realisation. You wondered why those cookies were selling so well all of a sudden.
"I just wanted to say thank you. It might not seem like a big deal, but it's really huge for us. I also wanted to explain why all of those cookies were suddenly going missing at like ten in the morning."
You gesture at him to sit, the both of you taking a seat at one of the tables nearby.
You talk for almost an hour, listening intently to Rafael as he tells you about his family. He moved to California to be with his sister Maria when she got sick, no one else around to care for her. He asks about yours, and you tell him about your parents and their constant encouragement. He's also interested in how you got into baking, so you tell him all about culinary school, and the dreams your Grandma gave you when you were a kid.
"You're really talented, you know."
"I bet you say that to all of the bakers around here. But thank you."
His fingers brush yours where they're resting on the table, making you shiver.
"I'll make Maria her own box, if you like. I'll leave them behind the counter, just tell Isabel who you are."
"You'd do that for her?"
"Of course," you smile. "The idea that I'm helping someone with my silly little creations makes me really happy. We can work out a schedule, and I'll make sure I bake Maria some extras when I do my usual batch."
"You're incredible. Seriously. Thank you."
He squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. The two of you are sat in the café as the sun sets, orange glow illuminating the room. You didn't expect to make a friend today. You're glad you have.
"Well, I should probably go and clean up the kitchen. You know where to find me, if you need anything. It was lovely to meet you, Rafael."
He rises when you do, smiling at you earnestly.
"You too. Nice to finally put a face to the cookie, so to speak."
You chuckle and show him out of the door, waving as he walks down the street. Suddenly, he turns around, striding back towards you.
"I'm so sorry if this is forward, and please feel free to say no, but... are you single? If you are, I'd love to ask you to dinner sometime."
The answer to that question is much more complicated than Rafael could ever imagine. So instead, you say,
"I'm not. I'm Tethered, actually."
His brows raise in surprise, but he's smiling.
"You are?"
"Yeah, I am. He doesn't live here, though. He lives back home, where my parents are."
"You guys are married?"
"No! Not yet. It's, uh... a complex... situation."
"Ah," he says, gentle, knowing look on his face. "I thought Tetherings weren't meant to be complex. Isn't that the whole point? That they're easy?"
You laugh, but it's not malicious. You're thinking about how sweetly naive he is, how he's got a huge storm coming his way one day.
"He's my Dad's best friend."
You're not sure why you're admitting this to a man you met an hour and a half ago, but you are. It's almost a relief, to get it off your chest again - to tell someone who's completely neutral, who doesn't know either of you.
"Woah."
"Yeah."
"That... is complicated."
"Yeah," you chuckle. "Understatement of the century."
Rafael leans against the wall, watching you intently. He's curious.
"How did your parents react?"
"They don't know yet."
His eyebrows raise almost comically high.
"Wait, what? How did you hide that? I thought it was supposed to be impossible to hide that you're Tethered. Although, I guess I had no idea, seeing as I asked you out."
"We wanted to figure it out for ourselves first, before telling anyone. And then I moved out here, so we're doing long distance. Like I said, complex."
"Understatement of the century," he laughs.
You look at each other for a moment, before he smiles.
"I'm sorry I asked you out. I wouldn't have, if I'd known."
"Please, don't apologise. I admire your... courage?" you grin. "And I appreciate you coming to see me today. I have like two friends here in Cali, so it's nice to feel like I've made another."
He smiles again, wider this time. Someone's going to be lucky to be Tethered to him one day, you think.
"I know it might surprise you, given my good looks and... courage," he chuckles, "but I don't have many friends out here either. I've been so focused on Maria, I haven't had time to socialise."
"The Universe works in funny ways, huh?"
"Sure does."
You wander back through the door, ready to close up for good this time.
"I'll see you tomorrow, for the cookies. And I'd love to meet Maria one day, if she's up for it."
"I'm sure she'd love to meet you. I'll bring her by."
"Thanks, Rafael."
"Of course. Thank you."
"Of course."
That night, when your Mom calls, you get to tell her you've made a new friend. That makes the both of you very happy.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You're testing out a recipe in the kitchen of your new apartment when your phone rings.
"Hey, Dad."
"Hey, kiddo. You doing okay?"
"Yeah, I am, actually. I'm settling in."
"Good, I'm glad. I don't wanna keep you on the phone for too long, but I wanted to ask you something."
"Go ahead, Dad. Anything."
"How would you feel about surprising your Mom for her birthday?"
"What kind of surprise?"
"I know you haven't been gone all that long, and I know it's kind of last minute, but, I was thinking you could come back to... be her gift? She really misses you, you know."
"I miss her too," you say softly, trying to keep your voice even. "I'll talk to Stella, see if we can figure something out. I'd really love to see you guys."
"We'd really love to see you too, sweetheart."
"I'll call you back later, when I've organised everything. Love you, Dad. See you soon, hopefully."
"Love you, kiddo. Proud of you, you know."
"I know," you smile. "I know."
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The journey always seems shorter when you know you're going home.
You make it back in record time, salty ocean breeze whipping through your hair as you cruise along the roads. You take a deep breath and sigh it out, relief filling your lungs. It's good to be back.
You can't let your Mom see you, so you head straight back to your apartment. Your Dad told you they're in the process of renting it out, but they haven't made much progress yet. For now, it's still yours.
You inhale the familiar scent, smiling gently. There's something so particular about the way a place smells when you feel like you belong there. It's like home and comfort and ease all rolled into one.
You unpack a little, folding your clothes and tucking them into the dresser. You told Stella you'd probably stay a few days, wanting to spend as much time with your family as possible. You're rifling through the refrigerator and thinking about a grocery list when there's a knock at your door.
You know who it is.
A feeling of relief washes over your body, tension melting from your shoulders. Your lungs fill easier, your breath falls deeper, everything is a little brighter, a little more colourful.
You open the door to be met with the sight of Bucky Barnes.
He's in work pants and a white t shirt that's stained with grease and oil, heavy boots on his feet. He must have come straight from the Garage.
He looks at you carefully, as if he isn't sure that you're real. You rake your eyes over his form, trying to drink him in. All the pictures you've taken and saved don't do him justice.
He exhales, beaming grin appearing on his face.
"You're here."
You can't help but smile back, his happiness spreading through you.
"I'm here."
Bucky rushes forward and scoops you into his arms, enveloping you completely. He wraps himself around you as he tucks you into his chest, his grip tight and unrelenting. You breathe him in, overwhelmed with emotion and sensation. You didn't realise how much you needed this. Three months is too long.
"What are you doing here?" he asks, slight shake in his voice. He's holding off tears. So are you.
"My Dad wanted me to surprise my Mom for her birthday. It's all a secret."
He smiles, before leaning down to capture your lips in a knee buckling kiss. A kiss that says I missed you. A kiss that says I need you. A kiss that says please don't leave me again.
"How did you know?" you whisper when you pull away for air.
"I felt it. I think I knew the moment you arrived back in town. Thought my mind was playing tricks on me, for a second. But there's no mistaking that feeling. I had to come and see for myself."
"We're getting pretty good at this whole soulmate thing, huh?" you laugh, unaware of the tears running down your face. "I missed you, Buck. So much."
"I missed you too," he murmurs, kissing you again. "Didn't think I was going to survive, some days."
"Me too. Do you know how many times I stood with my car keys in my hand, ready to drive back to you?"
He chuckles and then sniffles, emotion dripping down his cheeks.
"I did exactly the same thing. So many times."
You wrap your arms around his middle, reveling in the way he smells like gasoline and home.
"How long are you here for?" he murmurs, worried he'll disturb the peace.
"I'm not sure. A good few days, at least."
"Okay," he breathes. "I can do a few days. We can do a few days."
"Sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't know, to be honest. It was all kinda last minute."
"It's okay, pretty thing," he mutters into your hair. "It was a nice surprise."
"You're coming tonight, right? To my Mom's party?"
"Wouldn't miss it."
You stay wrapped up in each other for a little while longer, savouring his warmth. He rubs absentminded patterns across the skin of your back, committing the softness of it to his memory.
"I should probably get back to work. I took off with no warning."
"You're the boss. You're allowed," you chuckle.
He laughs with you, and the sound lights up your nerves, illuminates your bones. It settles itself in the hollows of your ribcage, tangles itself in your heartstrings. It's like medicine.
"Can't wait to see you tonight," you whisper. "Wear something cute."
"I always do," he winks, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Miss you already."
"Miss you more."
He looks at you, smiling.
"Man, we're the worst."
"Truly."
He kisses you once, twice, three times before finally leaving, reluctant to let you go. You spend the rest of the afternoon floating on air, relaxed and at ease. You haven't felt like this in a while.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Your Dad sneaks you into the house through the side door, hiding you in the kitchen as he ushers your Mom through to the back yard.
It's decorated with floral garlands and streamers, flowers in vases covering the table he's set up. The golden, warm fairy lights illuminate the space, keeping it soft and intimate. He's been watching, carefully observing the way that she does things. He's recreated her party style perfectly.
There's a few of her closest friends waiting for her, gifts littering the spare chairs. Your Dad walks her outside, hands covering her eyes.
"Surprise!"
You watch through the door as your Mom gasps, grin on her face.
"Oh my God! You guys!"
She runs into your Dad, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"I can't believe you managed to pull this off," she says in disbelief.
He sets her back down on the ground and kisses her gently.
"I got you something. I hope you like it."
That's your cue. You sneak out as quietly as possible, standing behind her.
"Happy Birthday, Mama."
She whips around to face you, shock written across her face. Her eyes well up, tears threatening to spill. Yours do the same, bottom lip quivering.
She throws her arms around you, tugging you into her.
"I'm so happy you're here, baby girl. I missed you so much."
"Missed you. You look beautiful."
"Not as beautiful as you! Look at you, all sun kissed and glowy. You look so pretty, sweetheart."
You grin at her and she does the same back, your Dad beaming at your identical smiles.
"You're the best gift I've ever received. Then and now."
You're overwhelmed, suddenly, by the realisation that no matter what happens, no matter what life throws at you, no matter how many miles are between you - your Mom will always be in your corner. Your Dad will always be in your corner. Bucky will always be in your corner.
You think, for a moment, that despite everything, you might just be okay.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The night goes off without a hitch.
You drink, you laugh, you sing. You and your Mom dance to ABBA, Bowie, Donna Summer. Your Dad joins in, and can't help but grin every time he watches his girls together.
What a life, he thinks. I'm the luckiest man in the world.
When everyone gets a little past tipsy, your Mom changes the music to something slower, jazzier, richer. Your Dad pulls her into his chest, holding her close as they move to the melody. You're sat at the table taking off your heels when Bucky slides into the seat next to you. He pulls your foot into his lap and undoes the strap, sliding the shoe off gently. He rubs his thumb into your sole, smirking when you groan.
"Have you been avoiding me tonight, pretty baby?"
His cheeks are flushed slightly, top few buttons of his shirt open. He's been drinking a little, his walls lowered more than usual.
"I have to."
"Oh yeah?"
"I feel like I'm gonna burst into flames every time you look at me," you whisper. "I kinda want to rip your clothes off, baby."
He groans at the nickname. You know exactly what you're doing.
"It only takes one look for a minute too long to figure out how I feel about you, Buck. They'll work it all out instantly."
"Dance with me," he murmurs suddenly. "Your parents are too busy staring into each others eyes. Come on, honey. One dance."
His big blue eyes bore into yours, and you know you're fucked. You're never going to be able to say no to him.
"One dance," you whisper.
He takes your hand and leads you to the decked area, brightened by the golden lights. Bucky slides a hand over your back, resting there carefully. You intertwine your fingers with his and step into him, embracing the warmth that rolls off his body.
I'll Be Seeing You by Billie Holiday begins to play, and the two of you start to sway gently, eyes never leaving each others. Bucky pulls you in closer, and you melt into him. You don't care about the repercussions anymore.
Maybe it's the wine talking. Maybe it's something else.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"That was close!"
Your Mom's giggling as your Dad holds her, having just saved her from tripping down the front steps. Everyone's giddy, both from drinking and from laughing.
"Sweetheart. Bucky. Come back for lunch tomorrow. Your Dad ordered too much catering, and we need help eating it."
"Mama, are you sure?"
"I want to see you as much as possible before you go, babygirl. You too, Buck. I feel like we don't see you as much as we used to."
"He'll be there," you reply before he can protest. "We'll carpool, and I'll bring a strawberry and cream tart that I made for you."
She kisses you on the cheek, your Dad leaning in to kiss the other side.
"Love you both."
"Love you," they say in unison, laughing and yelling jinx. "Get home safe, you two!"
"I'll take care of her," Bucky chuckles. "Always."
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"Why don't you see my parents much anymore?"
You and Buck are walking home along the sandy coastal path, fingers intertwined and sides pressed together. You look up at him, frowning slightly when he hesitates.
"Don't lie to me, James. I can feel it, remember."
You place a hand on your chest to remind him, and he nods.
"It's not the same here without you."
You weren't expecting the sincerity. It knocks you off balance a little.
You stop when you reach a wooden bench, sitting down and pulling him with you.
"So you're isolating yourself from the people who love you?"
He smiles, sadness rife in his eyes. Your tough guy act is crumbling.
"Not on purpose. It just kinda happened."
"You promised you'd talk to me, Buck. Especially if it got too hard. You need to accept support from people, or everything is going to come crashing down."
"I know. I know. But every time I go to their house, I'm expecting you to be there. Every time I go to the beach, I'm expecting you to be there. Every time I walk past your building, I'm expecting you to be there, waiting for me to pick you up. Even when I'm sailing, I can't stop thinking about that day we spent on the boat."
"The other day I had to make three batches of buttercream, because I messed up the first two. I was so distracted thinking about you that I split them both."
He laughs, then, wholehearted and genuine. You can't help but join him, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all.
"Bucky, you have to promise that you'll keep going, even without me. You have to see my Mom and Dad like you used to, you have to still sail and go to the beach. You can't put your life on hold for me."
He takes a deep breath, sliding an arm around your shoulders to pull you in closer.
"Okay. I promise."
You whip your head around to look at him.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that, honey. You're right. I've been waiting for you to come back, so I can start living again. But life is still happening, whether you're here or not."
"Wise words, wise man," you smile. "Not a minute goes by where I don't think of you. You know that, don't you?"
"I know. I feel it."
You watch as he brings your linked hands to his chest, placing them there. You rest your head on his shoulder, lulled into calm by the steady melody of his heart. You swear it beats to the rhythm of your name.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The two of you can't bear the idea of separating, so Buck comes home with you.
"Have you got a blanket?" he asks as he's kicking off his shoes.
"I have. What for?"
"The couch."
You process for a moment before it clicks.
"You're not sleeping on the couch, Buck."
"No?"
"No. I want your ridiculous, radiator-like body heat in bed with me."
He smiles, all giddy and lopsided, before striding across the room to you. Cradling your face in his rough hands, he kisses you with fervour. He's making up for lost time.
You tangle your fingers into his hair, tugging and pulling, smirking when he groans. He retaliates by grabbing your ass and picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He carries you through to your bedroom, lips never leaving yours.
Throwing you down onto the bed, he pulls his shirt over his head, watching you hungrily as you do the same with your dress. You're left in your underwear, leaving little to the imagination.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs. "Makes me want to cry."
You reach for him as he settles on top of you, your hand sliding along his stubbled cheek.
"I'm so glad you're feeling what I'm feeling," you whisper. "I'd think I was going insane otherwise."
Bucky kisses you again, before trailing his lips across your jaw, your ear, your neck. He's careful not to leave any marks, as much as he wants to. You glide your hands along the expanse of his shoulders, his back, his biceps. He's so strong, so broad. It makes you ache.
"So fuckin' pretty," he mumbles against your chest. "Like a goddamn dream."
You throw your head back as he attaches his mouth to your tits, nipping and sucking as he goes. Your hands are in his hair again, reveling in the way his groans vibrate through you.
Bucky slots his knee in between your legs as he kisses across your chest, smirking when you grind your hips into it. You chase the friction as best you can, moaning when it hits you just right.
"Needy baby. You don't want my fingers? My mouth? No? Just my knee?"
You nod, then shake your head. You're not sure what you're asking for, drunk on him already.
"Please, Buck. Anything."
"I'll give you whatever you want if you keep saying my name like that."
He makes quick work of pulling your underwear down your legs, swiping his fingers through your wet heat.
"Oh, fuck," he chokes. "Fuck, honey. Is this all for me? Hmm?"
"Yes, yes, yes."
"Yeah?"
"It's yours, Buck. I'm yours."
Bucky drops his head forward, bumping your nose with his.
"I think that's my favourite thing you've ever said," he mumbles against your mouth.
You reach up to kiss him, sucking his tongue before biting at his lips. You can't get close enough. Every inch of your skin is pressed to his, and you still want more.
Bucky crawls down the bed, situating himself between your legs. He nudges at you with his nose before diving in, lapping at you like a man starved.
You'd forgotten what people said about sex when you're Tethered, but it all comes back to you now. Everything is heightened, your senses on overdrive. It's like Bucky has the handbook to your body, and all he has to do is read the instructions the Universe has given him.
He's got you teetering on the edge in no time, right on the precipice. No ones ever made you feel like this. It feels like some sort of small miracle is happening, an otherworldly connection.
"Give it to me, honey baby," he murmurs into you. "Let me see how pretty you look when you come."
You tug at his hair as you reach your climax, the vibrations of his groan only prolonging your release. Bucky helps you ride it out, only ceasing his action when he's satisfied you're satisfied.
He rests his head against your thigh and looks up at you as you come down, breathing heavily.
"You good?"
"So good," you grin. "Never better."
"Me neither," he whispers, crawling up your body to kiss you again. You taste yourself and whine, desperate to feel closer to him.
"Need you," you demand against his lips. "Need you more than anything."
"I know, baby," he soothes as he smooths the hair back from your face. "Gonna give you everything you want. Anything in the world."
You're on the verge of tears again, completely overwhelmed. He's looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. You think maybe you would, if he asked you to.
Bucky slides home in one gentle thrust, easy as breathing. The both of you exhale, savouring the moment. It's like nothing either of you have ever felt before.
You pull his face down to you, resting your foreheads against each other.
"Buck, I-"
"I know," he breathes. "Fuck, I know."
"Need you to move, baby."
He nods and kisses you sweetly, before pulling his hips back and gliding forward. The angle is just right, both of you keening.
"Fuck, honey. So pretty. So tight. Fuck."
Bucky sets a steady rhythm, not too fast, not too slow. It's like he can read your mind, knowing exactly what you need. All you can say is his name as stars cloud your vision.
He slides his hand down your front, rubbing perfect circles on your clit with his fingers. You clamp down on him and he groans, low and gutteral.
"Need you to come, pretty baby," he whispers hoarsely. "Please. Waited so long for this. Please."
The desperation in his tone is what throws you into your release, muscles tensing and back arched. You grip his biceps, scratching your nails into his sun kissed skin.
Bucky can't hold on any longer, falling over the edge with you. The way he says your name as he does will be ingrained in your mind forever.
He drops his weight onto you entirely, no longer able to hold himself up. You wrap your arms around him, drawing absent minded patterns across his back. You're both sweating and panting. You're both completely content.
"Holy shit," he whispers after a while.
"You think it's gonna be like that every time?" you ask, grinning.
Bucky rolls off you and lands on the bed beside you, pulling you into his chest.
"Honey, just you wait. I've got moves you've never seen."
You snort, unable to hold in your laughter. You're floating on cloud nine, satiated and warm.
"You're the worst," you giggle, running your fingers over his abs gently.
The two of you stay intertwined for hours, enjoying the way your bodies fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. You both drift in and out of sleep, conversing in the gaps. At some points, you just lay in silence, completely comfortable. No one needs to say anything. You both know what the other person is thinking.
Eventually, the sun rises, casting the room in a golden orange glow. Bucky looks like an angel, illuminated by the morning light. You wonder for a second if he is, sent down as a gift to you.
Suddenly, you feel an intense sadness in your chest. You look up at Bucky from where you lay across him, and see a single tear drip down his cheek.
"I don't want you to go."
The only sound that can be heard is his sorrow hitting the pillow.
"I don't think I want to go."
He strokes your hair softly, taking a deep breath to try and get a handle on his emotions.
"You have to, baby. It's your dream."
Your bottom lip wobbles for a second, before the words come spilling out.
"You're my dream."
Bucky sniffles, and you continue.
"I could have nothing, but I have everything if I have you."
You sit up and Bucky does too, capturing your lips in a tear stained kiss.
"We'll be okay, my honey girl."
You crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, letting his warmth bleed into your bones.
"I know," you say, unsure if you're trying to convince yourself or him.
You know you'll be okay. It just doesn't feel like it right now.
You wonder how many times you can keep leaving and coming back before one of your hearts breaks for good.
Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky deal with the fallout of Cora's reveal. What's that saying? If you love something, let it go...
Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au
Age Rating - 18+
Warnings - cursing. angst. alcohol consumption.
Word Count - 5k
Author's Note - i can only apologise that this chapter took a little while!! my life is at a super weird place rn, so i'm just trying to find the time when i can. words cannot describe how incredible all of your support is for Honey Girl. the fact you all reblog and comment and send me asks means the world to me. love you all so much.
as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3
Masterlist. Inbox.
You can't breathe.
It's like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the air, leaving it dry, brittle, sterile. Your lungs are burning, scratched like sandpaper. The backyard is spinning, like teenagers at a roller rink - all flashing lights and endless rotations.
You haven't taken your eyes off of Bucky, and he hasn't taken his eyes off of you. If you were thinking more logically, you'd probably realise that you've been staring at each other for too long, and it's starting to look a little suspicious. You don't care.
Your ears are ringing. It's like there's been an explosion, and you're scattered amongst the debris. Smoke, flames, rubble. A catastrophic detonation in your parents backyard.
A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you back to reality. The music is still playing, everyone around the table is still conversing, the house still stands. No explosion here.
"Sweetheart?"
It's your Mom, clearly sensing your distress. She probably thinks you're upset with her, for telling Cora. You are, but that's not what's causing the pain in your chest.
"Come inside with me, baby girl. Let's get away from the noise for a second."
She grabs your hand and pulls you out of your chair, still none the wiser to the magnetism preventing you from breaking your gaze that's locked on Bucky's. She practically drags you inside, the cool air of the kitchen waking you up.
"Sweetheart, I am so, so sorry. Cora overheard the conversation we had earlier. I thought it was good news, so I didn't think to ask her to keep it private."
She looks like she's being eaten alive by guilt. Your bottom lip quivers, your eyes well up, and before you know it, there are warm, salty tears dripping down your cheeks.
"Hey, hey. What's the matter?"
You sit down on the tiled floor, back pressed against the cabinets. Curling your knees to your chest, you try to stifle your sobs.
"Everything's such a mess, Mama."
She drops to the ground, gathering you in her arms. She holds you as tight as she can, rubbing soothing circles into your back and whispering comforting words in your ear. Eventually, she pulls back to look at you.
"What's the matter, baby? I thought Stella's call was a good thing - that you'd be excited to go back to California."
You take a shaky breath before replying.
"It's just... I think - I don't, it's... it's so complicated."
She traces her fingers over your cheeks, your eyebrows, your nose. She dances her fingertips over your face, as if she's committing it to her mind forever. It brings back warm and cosy childhood memories of her doing the same thing to help you sleep. The two of you would snuggle up against all of your pillows in bed, tucked up and safe. She'd lie with you until she was sure you were dreaming, before kissing you on the forehead and sneaking out.
"Talk to me. We can figure it out. We always do."
"It's not that simple. I just... there's a lot going on, I guess. I thought it'd be an easy decision, but it isn't, and it's all I can think about, and it's eating me up because I'm so scared I'm gonna do the wrong thing -"
You cut yourself off with a sob, resting your head on your knees.
"I knew there was something bothering you, sweetheart. Why didn't you come and talk to us? Even if we can't fix it, we can listen."
"I thought I could handle it. I thought I could figure it out on my own."
"You don't ever have to carry stress like this on your own, baby girl. Ever. You hear me?"
You nod and lean into her, letting her rock you in her arms on the kitchen floor.
"I'm sorry again, about Cora. She means well, you know she does."
"I know. Doesn't feel like it sometimes, but I know."
A pause.
"Okay, sweetheart. What are we going to do now? Whatever you decide, we'll support you."
"Your Mom's right," your Dad says from the doorway. "Whatever you choose, we'll be right alongside you. No matter what."
He strides over to join the two of you on the floor, sandwiching you between him and your Mom.
"If you need help packing up and moving, we're here. If you need us to create an elaborate lie to tell Stella, we're here. Either way, you've got us."
You smile at him gently, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder. Regardless of what happens, you have two parents that love you more than anything in the world. That has to count for something.
"You wanna rejoin us outside, or are you too tired? No one will blame you if you go home."
"I think I'll go home," you murmur. "I don't wanna face any more questions for today."
"Bucky's just gone too. Said something about an early morning tomorrow."
You inhale shakily at the mention of his name. You know you'll have to face him sooner or later.
Your Dad stands and grabs your hands to help you to your feet, before doing the same to your Mom. They both hug you tightly before walking you out to the front door.
"Promise me you'll call if you need anything. Anything."
"I promise, Mama. Don't worry about me. I'll be okay."
"Do you want one of us to walk you home?"
"No, it's okay. I think I need the air."
"Love you, baby girl."
"Love you too. Both of you."
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You're halfway home when you decide to turn around. You need to talk to Bucky.
It doesn't take you long to figure out where he is. You can feel in your chest that he's close by, that he hasn't strayed far. He hasn't gone home, though. The Universe is pulling you in the opposite direction.
The beach.
You spin on your heel and start walking down the road, picking up pace as you go. You can feel rain in the air, threatening to spill from the clouds at any given moment. Before you know it, you're running, sprinting along the sidewalk in the direction of your soulmate.
You get to the small boardwalk and look out over the sand. The sky is grey as concrete, cold and unforgiving. You spot a figure in a worn brown leather jacket by the shore, and you know instantly. It's him.
You march onto the beach with your shoes still on, wrapping your arms around yourself to act as a shield from the wind. You left your jacket at your parent's house, too eager to get out of there in a hurry. The rain is suspended in the air, never quite reaching the ground. You know it's only a matter of time before the heavens open.
"Bucky!" you yell, practically bounding across the sand. "Buck!"
He doesn't turn because he hears your voice. He turns because he suddenly feels like he can breathe, which he hasn't been able to do for the last hour. He knew you were there before you shouted his name.
"Bucky, please!"
He spins on his heel and stops walking, waiting for you to catch up with him. You're sprinting, panting as you reach him. The ocean waves crash against the shore, dangerously close to his boots.
"Buck, just let me explain," you choke out, trying to catch your breath.
You finally stop running and look at him. He looks broken. His hair looks like he's pulled his fingers through it repeatedly, tear tracks staining his cheeks, lips bitten red. You've never seen him upset like this. It's the worst thing you've ever witnessed.
"There's nothing to explain," he begins calmly, trying to keep a lid on his feelings.
"There is, Buck. There is. I... Cora overheard me confiding in my Mom, telling her about a call I'd gotten, from a classmate at culinary school. It was just an offer - I haven't accepted anything! I never meant for you to find out like this, I swear. It's all just... it's all so fucked up."
He looks at you in disbelief.
"No, you know what's fucked up?" he asks, raising his voice. "Finding out that my soulmate is moving across the country from some alcoholic suburban mom at a dinner party!"
You've never heard him yell before. You don't like it at all. You gather yourself before replying calmly, determined to keep you emotions under wraps.
"I've been trying to find a way to talk to you about it, but I didn't know where to start. How do I even begin to explain any of this?"
"Maybe, I don't know - 'hey, Buck, I got a call and I'm thinking of moving thousands of miles away for my dream job,' would be a good place to start?"
"It's more complicated than that. I was trying to protect you."
"Protect me from what?"
"From blowing your life up for me!"
You stare at each other for a minute, both of you unblinking.
"What are you talking about?" he croaks out.
"You'd drop everything for me, Bucky, and I can't let you do that. You've worked too damn hard to let it all go."
He's dumbfounded, for a moment. Not because he doesn't understand. No. He's realising that you're right.
"I knew that if I told you straight away, you'd have persuaded me to let you come with, and I would have said yes. And then you'd regret it, and you'd resent me, and we'd be over before we've even begun."
When he doesn't say anything, you continue.
"The thing is, Buck, the selfish part of me would have happily invited you along. Me and you, in California, running a bakery? That sounds like a fucking dream. But I have to listen to the other side of me, the selfless part. And that part is telling me that you have worked too damn hard for too damn long just for me to take that all away."
You feel droplets of water on your face, and for a moment, you wonder when you started to cry again. Then, in the deep distance, you hear a crack of thunder. The rain begins to pour, both of you caught in a storm in more ways than one.
"You don't get to make a decision like that for me!" he finally responds, yelling to be heard over the downpour. "We're supposed to talk about these things! To figure them out together! That's what soulmates are - we're a team!"
"I can't think rationally around you, Bucky! It's like all logic goes out the window. I'm just so overwhelmed with-"
You stop yourself before the word comes out, but you both know what you were about to say. He feels it in his ribcage, the surge of emotion from you.
"-with how I feel about you. You're my forever, Buck, and I feel like -" a sob wracks through you, shaking your frame. "-like I've fucked it all up already."
Your tears mix with the rainwater, trailing down your cheeks. You watch as Bucky fights with himself, internally battling his feelings.
"You're not the only one fucking it up," he chokes. "You repeatedly told me we had to take it slow, but I just... couldn't help myself. I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you, and being away from you for even a minute is fucking torture. I moved us too fast, and now look where we are. We've become the equivalent of a married couple in a couple of weeks. No one can handle change that sudden."
"It's not.. none of this is your fault, Buck. I kept something from you, something big. I know it doesn't matter now, but I want you to know how hard it's been to not tell you. It was killing me."
"I felt it," he murmurs shakily, willing himself not to cry. "In my chest. You were so torn up about something, and I just couldn't figure out what it was. I should have pushed you more, but I was worried I'd push you away."
Your lip trembles as you watch him bite his own anxiously.
"I'm so scared, Buck," you whisper. "I feel so lost and so confused and like nothing makes sense."
"Me too," he whispers back, eyes never leaving yours. "I'm fucking terrified. Our worlds have been turned upside down."
"Is it... is it supposed to be this hard? Everyone makes it sound so easy."
"I don't know. Maybe the Universe heard that we were anti-soulmate and decided to be super tough on us. Cosmic karma, or something."
You choke out a laugh through your tears. The rain has plastered your clothes to your body, the salty wind chilling you to the bone. Without thinking, Bucky takes off his jacket and wraps it around you, unable to watch you shiver any longer.
"What now?" you ask quietly. If he wasn't standing so close, he wouldn't have heard it.
"Let's get out of the storm," he suggests, nodding his head towards the path home. "We can talk some more somewhere warmer."
You sniffle and take a deep breath, willing yourself to get it together. Bucky surprises you by linking your hand with his, warm fingers intertwining around yours.
He doesn't let go the whole way home.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Bucky takes you to his house.
You haven't been here since before your Tethering. You walk in the door, and your knees threaten to give way.
It's overwhelming.
Everywhere - everything - smells like Bucky. His scent clings to every fabric, every upholstery, every room. There's pictures scattered across the mantelpiece, his handsome face staring at you wherever you go. The house is warm, cosy, and just so Bucky it makes your heart ache.
You walk over to the fireplace, taking a closer look at the array of frames adorning it. There's one of your parents and Bucky smiling, sat out on his lawn last summer; another of Bucky and his team of mechanics, stood proudly outside his garage. A small black frame catches your eye. You pick it up, and your breath hitches in your chest.
It's a picture of the two of you on the deck of his boat, the day after you found out you were soulmates. The wind is blowing your hair, billowing your shirts, sun beating down on your skin. You're both beaming at the camera, bright and blinding, completely content.
You're holding back tears as you put it back in it's original place.
"My favourite picture," he murmurs from somewhere behind you. "We look happy."
"We were happy," you whisper. Then, quieter, "We will be again."
A pause.
"You want something to drink? Coffee, cocoa? Oh, I have that tea you like, the apple one?"
"You do?"
"Yeah. I, uh, bought some last time I went grocery shopping. In case you stopped by."
"Tea sounds good. Please."
You stay stood in the middle of the living room while Bucky puts the kettle on the stove, worried that your wet clothes will ruin his couch. As if he's read your mind, he pops his head around the door.
"There's a load of fresh clothes folded on top of the dryer. Grab whatever you want, dry off a little."
You wander into the laundry room, sorting through the pile. You find a t shirt with his garage logo on the back in big, white letters.
J.B.B. Motorcycles and Automotives.
The blocky, bold font swirls across the black material. You run your fingers over it, tracing the curves and spikes of the typeface. It's something you've seen him in a million times. You inhale deeply as you slip it over your head, revelling in the way it smells like him. You grab some boxer shorts and slip those on too, glad to finally be warm and dry.
Bucky loses his breath when you walk into the room. He's never seen you in his clothes before, and for good reason. He's about to have a goddamn heart attack.
"Tea is on the coffee table," he chokes out. "I'm gonna change, and then we'll talk, yeah?"
You nod gently, settling into the cushions of his couch and tucking your legs underneath you, mug warming your hands.
When Bucky returns, he's in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie that you want to burrow yourself into. He takes his place, careful to put a little distance between you. Far enough that you're not touching, but close enough that you almost are.
"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I'm not good at this."
"Neither am I," he smiles gently. "It's my first time having a soulmate."
"Mine too," you laugh softly.
It floors you, his ability to always be able to comfort you. It's like a superpower, the way he always knows what to say or do to put you at ease.
"I think we got a little ahead of ourselves," he begins, careful to keep his voice low and deliberate. "I keep forgetting that we have forever. Literally. I was so eager to rush into this with you because I got excited. Don't get me wrong, I'm still ridiculously excited, but I'm realising now that our version of 'slow' wasn't slow at all."
"This whole Tethering thing makes everything so intense. There have been times where I honestly thought I was going to drop dead if you didn't kiss me."
"The feelings mutual," he chuckles.
You lace your fingers with his, never breaking eye contact, before addressing the elephant in the room.
"What am I gonna do about California, Buck?"
Your voice cracks just saying the word.
"Stella needs an answer, and I've upset you, and my parents are clueless, and I just - I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do. Please."
"I can't tell you what to do, honey," he soothes, running his thumb over the back of your hand. "And I'm not upset. I was, in the backyard... but I was mainly just blindsided. I kinda get it, you not telling me. I'm not sure what I'd do in your situation either."
"I just feel like both decisions are wrong. I can't win."
"Hey, hey. Look at me, pretty baby."
Bucky cradles your face in his warm hands, forcing your eyes to meet his ocean blue ones. You have to focus on his words, so you don't get lost in the waves of his irises.
"At the end of the day, it's completely your decision, and no one in the world can change that. But-"
He takes a deep breath, and continues.
"I think that you'll regret it every day for the rest of your life if you don't take the incredible opportunity that's been offered to you."
You take a second to process what he's telling you, your mind running at a thousand miles an hour.
"Are you... you're... are you saying I should take the job?"
"Like I said, it's your decision, but... yes. I'm saying you should take the job."
Your eyes well with tears, and you bite your lip to stop them from escaping. Inhaling carefully, you put your hands on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under your palms. He's calm. He's sure. He's collected enough for the both of you.
"What about us?" you ask, barely above a whisper.
"Like you said, baby. I'm your forever." Buck leans in, resting his forehead to yours. "We have time."
"All the time in the world."
You connect your lips to Bucky's softly, testing the waters. He kisses you back with so much feeling, tears slip from your lashes without warning. He's crying too, emotion mixing with yours, dousing you both.
You pull away and wrap your arms around him, curling yourself into his chest. He holds you as tightly as he can, knowing this will be the last time for a long time.
"So you'll go."
"I'll go."
"And I'll stay."
"You'll stay."
"And we'll be okay. No matter what, we'll be okay."
You and Bucky fall asleep in each others arms, cherishing the feeling of home one last time.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The happiness is starting to seep through.
You're devastated to be leaving Bucky behind, but you're trying to look on the bright side. Sunny beaches, new people, your dream job. If you think about the positives for long enough, the Bucky sized hole in your chest hurts a little less.
You're packing up your bookshelf when your phone rings, scaring the life out of you.
"Bitch!"
You know who it is instantly.
"Hi, Lacie."
"Where have you been? Why didn't you answer my text from last night?"
"Shit, sorry. I've been packing. What's up?"
"We're going out tonight. Not just us - all the girls. We're throwing you a goodbye party!"
You groan inwardly, massaging your temples with your fingers.
"A party? Lace, I don't need a party."
"Babe, you do. You really do. It'll be fun! I thought you'd be excited!"
You take a deep breath, and remember what you've been telling yourself. Focus on the positives.
"Okay, fine. Where? What time? What should I wear?"
"I knew you'd say yes! Come to my place at like... six? We can get ready together, like old times! And wear something sexy."
She doesn't wait for you to argue, just hangs up the phone. She knows you too well.
You know it'll be good for you, to see your girlfriends - but the thought of all the goodbyes you're about to say breaks your heart a little more.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"Okay, what the fuck is going on with you?"
You're sat cross legged on Lacie's living room floor, sharing makeup that's scattered across the coffee table. You sip your wine for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse. It's no use.
"I don't know."
"Bullshit."
You turn to look at her.
"What?"
"It's bullshit, babe. Something's going on. You've been given your dream job, and you're moping around like you just got broken up with or something. Why aren't you happy?"
There's no malice in her voice, just pure love. She adores you. You adore her. She's the one person with an outsiders perspective on all of this. So, you cut the act.
"I had my Tethering."
Silence.
She's processing.
"What?!"
"Yeah."
"When? Who? Where? How? Oh my God what is happening? Why didn't you say anything? Fuck, I'm gonna cry. I'm so overwhelmed right now, I'm so happy for you! Wait... are we not happy?"
"It's... complicated."
There's a lump in your throat, but a levity in your heart. A weight has been taken off you. Telling someone the truth has made you feel a little lighter.
"Who is it, babe?"
You take a deep breath, and look her in the eyes.
"Bucky."
Her jaw drops.
"Your... your Dad's best friend Bucky?"
"That's the one."
"Oh. My. Fucking. God."
"Yeah."
"Holy shit."
"Yeah."
"This is complicated."
"Yeah."
"Aw, babe."
She pulls you in for a hug, not caring about the makeup you're smearing across her shirt. You cling to her as tightly as you can, savouring your best friends comfort.
"Does anyone else know?"
"No. We decided not to tell my parents for a while."
"Shit. No wonder you've been so sad lately. You're moving across the country, away from the one person you're supposed to be near."
"It's really hard," you whisper, tears threatening to spill.
"I can't even begin to imagine," she murmurs, holding you close. "I wish you'd told me sooner. We could have talked about it."
"I know," you sniffle. "I thought I could handle it on my own, but I really can't."
"You're not on your own, okay? You have Bucky, and you have me. You can always talk to me about this stuff. God knows I talked your ear off about Cameron."
You laugh softly, thinking back to that day that feels both like yesterday and a million years ago.
"Where is he tonight?"
"Out with his boys. It's good for us to spend a few hours apart."
You smile at the happiness that's radiating off her. She's glowing, beaming in all directions.
"Thanks, Lace. I love you. You know that right?"
"Of course I do. I love you too. So much," she leans forward to kiss your cheek. "Now let's have one hell of a last girls night, shall we?"
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You've lost track of exactly where you are.
You know you're downtown somewhere, in one of the bars. This one smells like wood and whiskey, lowlit and smoky. You hit the cocktail bar first, then the one covered in leopard print, then the monochrome pink one. Now, you're here.
The six of you are sat at a booth, high heels tangled and legs intertwined under the table. The wood is sticky with lemon wedges from tequila shots, salt scattered across the surface.
"If you find any hot west coast men, will you send them my way?" Reese asks, nudging you with her shoulder.
"And if you find any hot west coast women, will you send them mine?"
Everyone laughs, the scent of perfume filling the air.
"Rosa, what happened to Aubrey? We liked her!"
"Caught her kissing my ex girlfriend. So now they're both my ex girlfriends."
"Jesus Christ."
"Man, that's rough," Lacie giggles next to you.
The other girls continue to talk about Aubrey's infidelity as Lacie leans to whisper in your ear.
"Have you said goodbye to Bucky yet?"
You nod.
"Yesterday. I stayed the night, we fell asleep together. Said our goodbyes in the morning. It was awful."
"Love you," she whispers, squeezing your hand under the table.
"Love you too," you reply, squeezing back.
"There's a table of super hot guys over there," Maggie observes, tilting her head in their direction. "Maybe we should conveniently dance that way in a little while."
You don't bother to look over, knowing that none of them will compare to your soulmate. The other girls seem interested, though, so you smile along with them.
"Babe," Sam hisses, kicking you under the table. "There's a hot guy at that table, three o'clock, that keeps staring at you."
You glance over, and your heart stutters in your chest.
Bucky.
His blue eyes pierce your soul, even from across the room. For a moment, it's only the two of you, all the noise forgotten.
You're snapped back to reality by Sam.
"Fuck, he's hot. If you don't want him, I do."
"You should talk to him," Lacie suggests quickly. "Why not, right?"
She's practically pushing you out of the booth, high school wrestler style. In another life, you think, she would have made a good football player. All five foot four of her.
You walk past his table, eyes still locked on him, and towards the bathrooms. You know he'll follow you. You walk to the end of the hallway and out of the door, into the fresh night air.
You feel him appear before you see him. You lean your body against the wall, head resting on the cold brick. Bucky stands in front of you, shirt stretched across his shoulders gorgeously.
"Hi."
"Hi, honey baby."
You smile softly at the nickname.
"What are you doing here?"
"I got dragged to a boys night. What are you doing here?"
"I got dragged to a girls night."
He laughs, and all the tension melts from your muscles.
"Thought we said our goodbyes. I didn't think I'd see you again before I left."
"Me too. But you know the Universe. It hates us."
"Cosmic karma," you whisper.
The two of you stand down the alleyway, looking at each other carefully. Neither of you wants to spook the other person. You'd processed your leaving, said your emotional goodbyes. And now he's here, standing in front of you. You don't want to have to do it all again.
"I should probably get back inside, before the girls get the wrong idea."
"Baby, I followed you to the bathroom. They've already got the wrong idea."
You chuckle, kicking at a rock on the ground.
"Yeah. I don't know how I'm gonna explain this."
A smile. A pause.
"I'll let you get back to your friends, then."
You lean up to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek.
"Bye, Buck."
"Bye, pretty girl."
You push off the wall and walk away towards the door. Suddenly, a warm hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you into a solid chest.
Bucky kisses you like a man possessed. There's nothing gentle about it - just pure, unadulterated passion. It's all teeth and tongue and nipping and biting, neither of you willing to be the first to pull away.
He walks you back into the wall, pushing you against the rough brick. You hike a leg up onto his hip as he grabs your thigh to pull you closer, desperate to feel all of you. Your hands are in his hair, around his neck, tangled in his collar, his shirt, his belt loops. Anything you can get your hands on, you grab.
A distant chorus of cheers break you out of your lust fuelled haze. A bachelorette party walks by, one of the women winking at you as they go. You and Bucky take a step away from each other, straightening out your clothes and fixing your hair.
"Promise me you'll call me if you need anything," Bucky murmurs, leaning to rest his forehead on yours.
"I promise," you whisper, almost against his lips. "Goodbye, Bucky."
"Goodbye, honey girl."
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The salty ocean wind whips through your hair, sun beating down onto your skin, some upbeat pop song humming from the radio. You keep your eyes glued to the road in front of you, begging yourself not to look back. You know if you do, you'll turn the car around and run straight back into Bucky's arms.
Let the happiness seep through, you remind yourself, gripping the steering wheel.
Author's Note - angels, i can only apologise for the wait!! i've had some stuff going on, and i was on vacation, so this has taken a while. thank you so much for your patience, kindness and support on Honey Girl - it means everything.
as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3 please, send me your thoughts, predictions, desires!! i will get excited with you!!
Masterlist. Inbox.
The sunlight seeps through the stained glass windows, murmured chatter echoing off the stone walls around you.
You smooth down your dress and adjust your bracelet, smiling at the rare sight of your family and friends all gathered together in one place. Your parents are sat on either side of you, all of you eagerly awaiting the beginning of this exciting occasion.
Man, you love weddings. You always have. So much happiness and joy in one short day, everyone excited about the possibility of eternal love.
You're still sat waiting when you realise, with quiet uncertainty, that you're not sure whose wedding this is. All of your family is here, as well as many of your friends. So why do you feel so confused all of a sudden?
The Priest gestures for all of the guests to stand just as the first notes of the Wedding March begin to reverberate around the room. You turn around, craning your neck to try and get a glimpse of the bride.
You don't know her, but she's... beautiful. Long, dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders, white silk dress hugging her frame perfectly, accentuating every dip and curve. She has kind eyes, warm and brown, and a blinding smile that's infectious and dazzling. Her skin glows in the stained glass sunlight, illuminating her in an ethereal radiance. She has a beauty that belongs on the cover of a magazine, or on the ceilings of the Sistine Chapel.
You eagerly turn back towards the altar to find out who her lucky groom is. He has his back to you, dark suit stretched across his broad shoulders. He turns, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your lips.
It's Bucky.
You're panicking, suddenly. You want to scream, shout, run over to them and object in any way possible. Your Mom grabs your hand tightly from one side, as your Dad does the same on the other.
"Mama, I have to-"
"You can't, sweetheart. It's not fair."
"You made your choice," your Dad says kindly, not an ounce of malice in his voice. "Now you have to let him make his."
White hot tears drip down your cheeks as your chest rises and falls with frantic frustration. This isn't how you wanted things to go. This wasn't supposed to happen.
The lights in the church are suddenly too bright, the wooden pews too hard. There's an incessant knocking noise coming from somewhere in front of you, loud and overwhelming. You swear someone's shouting your name in the distance, among all of the chaos.
"Honey? It's Bucky. Are you okay?"
Why is he asking if you're okay? Of course you're not okay, you're in this living nightmare.
Nightmare.
You're having a nightmare.
You wake with a startled gasp, cheeks wet and warm, sweat dripping down your back. The knocking hasn't stopped, in fact, now it's even louder.
"Sugar? Are you in there? Can you let me in?"
It's Bucky. Bucky's here.
You throw yourself out of bed and race through your apartment, swinging open the door. Bucky is stood on the other side, still in his navy plaid pyjama pants, sweater thrown over himself haphazardly. You look down at yourself and see that you're only wearing an old t shirt, legs bare and feet cold on the wooden floor.
"Are you okay?" he asks gently, stepping forward into your space. "I had this horrible feeling. It was like... like I was panicking. I knew it wasn't me so I figured it must have been you. What's wrong, sweets?"
He snakes his fingers around your wrist and pulls you into him gently, wrapping his arms around you completely. You relax into his embrace, inhaling the warm, cosy scent of him. All the fear leaves your body, and you cling to him tighter, worried that he'll disappear any minute.
"I had a nightmare," you whisper into the soft cotton of his chest.
He pulls back to look at you, large, calloused hands cradling your tear stained cheeks.
"You wanna talk about it?"
You deliberate for a second before shaking your head softly.
"If you change your mind, you know I'll always listen to you. Any time. I mean it."
"I know," you say quietly. "Thank you."
You step away from him and towards the couch, where you curl up with your legs tucked underneath you. Bucky walks over to the kitchen, filling the kettle and placing it on the stove. He makes two mugs of tea, handing one into your outstretched hands carefully. He shuffles to sit next to you, pressed into your side, arm slung around your shoulders. You relax into the broadness of him, the comfort he brings, the safety. The two of you fall asleep intertwined, warm and content, wrapped completely in each other and the blanket of your love.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You're both startled awake by a phone ringing. The unwelcome melody is coming from somewhere between where you're nestled together, limbs intertwined and bodies connected.
"It's-fuck- is that mine or yours?" Bucky's mumbling as he scrambles amongst the couch cushions.
"Yours, I think," you reply, finding your phone on the floor where you've kicked it in your sleep.
Bucky finally finds the source of the noise, trapped in the arm of the couch. He presses the green button reluctantly, still disorientated from being woken so suddenly.
"Hello?"
That deep, raspy grumble of his morning voice is enough to make you melt back into your original position, the tone golden and honeyed. You slide back towards him and tuck yourself into his side, the two of you fitting together perfectly.
You can hear muffled talking on the other end, which takes Bucky a minute to comprehend. When he does, his eyes widen, and he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.
It's your Dad, he mouths silently, muscles in his body going rigid.
Fuck, you mouth back, praying that he can't hear the two sets of heaving lungs on your side of the line.
"Yeah, of course. I'll be there. Sounds good, man. See you then."
Bucky's about to hang up the phone, when your Dad makes a noise of complaint. You can hear your Mom yelling something at him in the background.
"They're coming here," he whispers to you as quietly as possible, covering the phone speaker. "Fuck, what do we do?"
"Tell them you're already here... borrowing something. Or giving something back."
You shoot him a look that says trust me. Trust you, he does.
"I'm with her right now. I can ask, if you want? Yeah, just dropping off a couple of tools - last time I saw her, she mentioned a few loose screws in one of the kitchen cabinets. Easy fix."
You can hear your Dad singing his praises and expressing his gratitude, and your Mom asking Bucky to put you on the phone. He passes it to you carefully, as if it's a bomb, bound to explode at any given second.
"Hi, Mama."
"Hey, sweetheart. Bucky get everything sorted for you?"
"Oh, yeah. He's been great. Fixed it in two minutes flat. I just didn't have the right kind of screwdriver."
"He's one of the good ones, huh?" she chuckles. "We called to tell you that you have to come to our get together later. I know it's a little impromptu, but we have so much produce from the garden, too much for just us. We'll have dinner in the backyard, and drinks, and play some games. And we'll tell you all about the wedding!"
Your Mother has a gift for hosting. She's a people person through and through, warm hearted and kind spirited in nature. She loves having people over at the house, loves cooking for them, loves choosing wine pairings for her dishes and explaining each one carefully. It's a gift. She's a gift.
"I'd love to come, Mama. Do you want me to bring anything? I can make desserts?"
"Oh, darling, would you? I'm making a strawberry and cream tart, but you know it's nothing compared to your talent."
"Oh hush," you chide playfully. "I'll see what I can conjure up. Maybe I'll even rope Bucky in to help."
You wink at him cheekily and he laughs, the sound settling gently in your ribs like a caged bird singing it's morning song.
"Glad to be of service!" he yells into the phone, his right hand moving to rest at the nape of your neck. He massages the muscle there gently, and the tension leaves your body just as quick as it arrived.
"What time, Mama?"
"Everyone's arriving at seven o'clock, but you and Bucky feel free to come any time. Did you hear that, Bucky? Any time!"
"Loud and clear," he chuckles. "See you soon, Lori."
"Bye, you two. Call if you need anything. Love you, sweetheart."
"Love you too."
She hangs up the phone and you're plunged into silence, the two of you panting like you've just ran a marathon.
"Fuck," Bucky breathes.
"Yeah, fuck," you exhale. "Now my parents think I'm not capable of fixing a loose screw."
"It was the first thing I thought of! Sorry, honey. Didn't mean to undermine your DIY skills."
You fake angry, but you can't keep it up while he's looking at you like you hung the moon just for him. The corners of your lips twitch, and before you know it, you're grinning at each other like idiots.
"Now I have to make dessert," you laugh. "There go my plans for the day."
"You offered."
"I panicked!"
"I'll give you a hand, if you need it. I don't have to be at work for another hour and a half."
"It's okay," you reassure, reaching out to link your fingers with his. He's still absentmindedly tracing patterns across the back of your neck, the sensation almost soothing you back to sleep.
You relax into Bucky, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. He's so warm, and soft, and broad. You realise that there's been two occasions recently where you've slept like the dead. Both were in Bucky's arms.
"You wanna help me make breakfast?" you whisper, careful not to disrupt the golden glow of the morning sunlight. The orange hue of the room feels fragile, sacred even. You don't want to ruin it.
"Of course. I can't bake, but I can cook. I have my uses."
"That, you do," you tease, leaning back into him as he places a tender kiss on top of your head. If you could bottle up this feeling of complete tranquility, you would. For a moment, everything else disappears. It's just you and your soulmate. Nothing else matters.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Bucky, as it turns out, is a decent chef.
Sure, he's not Michelin star level, but neither are you.
You're sat on the counter, bare legs dangling over the side as you watch him move around your kitchen with ease, as if it's his own. You can't help but notice the way he belongs here. Like he's been here all along.
Bucky leaves everything cooking on the stove to come to stand in between your legs, warm hands splayed across your thighs. He rubs comforting circles into your skin while his steely blue eyes look at you intently.
"You okay?"
You smile at him softly, draping your arms around his neck to play with his hair.
"I'm fine."
You're not fine. The words California and Bakery and Dream Job and Bucky keep circling around your mind like horses on a fairground carousel. The more time you spend with Bucky, the more your Tethering makes sense. The two of you work. This connection you have is made of threads of gold, braided into both of your souls.
"You've been quiet all morning. And... I can feel it, you know. This anxious, sinking feeling, deep in my chest. There's something really bothering you, honey."
You take a deep breath and grasp onto his shoulders tightly, grounding yourself back down to Earth.
"I'm okay. There's just a couple of things I need to work out, and I think they're giving me some anxiety. I'm just stressed, I think."
"Are you trying to convince yourself, or me? Because you're not doing a very good job of either."
He's only teasing, but the way he's looking at you makes your breath hitch. It's as if everytime he looks into your eyes, he's also looking into your soul. It's like he can read your mind. Your heart is covered in braille and he's running his fingertips over it gently. You suddenly feel very exposed, shrinking down into yourself on the counter.
"Hey, pretty girl. Look at me. Please."
He uses his finger and thumb to tilt your face towards him, holding onto your chin gently.
"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to push you, or anything. I'm just worried. It's weird, being able to feel what you feel. I think I'm still getting used to it."
You smile at him carefully, running your fingers over the stubble on his cheeks.
"I appreciate you looking out for me, Buck. It's just... overwhelming, I guess. Nothing's a secret between me and you anymore."
You both know that's not true.
"You know, if there's anyone who understands how you feel... it's me."
"You're right," you laugh, "on account of the whole half-of-my-soul thing, I guess."
"Exactly. It's scary, but you're not alone in this. The two of us will figure it out. I know we will."
He has so much faith in you it makes you want to cry.
You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer to you. He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, firm and reassuring. It's like he's reminding you that he's right here, in front of you. He's not going anywhere.
You might be, though.
"We've got all the time in the world, remember?" he murmurs against your mouth.
"All the time in the world," you echo, tucking your head into his chest.
He holds you close until your breakfast starts to burn. The impending fire on the stove is nothing compared to the impending fire that feels like your future.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The two of you eat on your balcony, tangled together on the love seat chair. The sun is beating down, beams of light illuminating Bucky, setting him aglow. He looks like an angel, the golden hue creating a halo around him. You wonder for a second if he is. An angel sent just for you.
"Oh hey, did I tell you?" he asks, turning as much as he can in his spot to face you.
"Tell me what?"
"Leonie and Eli are having a baby."
"No way!" you exclaim, grabbing a hold of his hands in excitement. "I'm so happy for them. Man, it feels like yesterday that they found each other."
"Right? Hell of a story, too."
"Rough one, though. I mean, imagine it. You introduce your brother to your new girlfriend, and turns out they're soulmates."
Bucky's laughing so hard that he's clutching at his stomach, shaking the chair and you along with it.
"That's fucked," he wheezes. "It's so fucked."
You can't contain your own laughter, not when his is so contagious.
"It's not funny," you breathe, but you're giggling so hard your sides hurt.
"Not funny at all," he chuckles, pinching your thigh.
"If you think about it, our Tethering is a little fucked up too. I mean, you're my Dad's best friend."
"Yeah... not ideal, huh?" he teases, still laughing.
"Not ideal at all, really," you agree playfully.
You sit in the quiet for a moment before you speak again.
"What do you think they'll say? When we tell them, eventually?"
Bucky thinks for a moment, cogs turning in his brain. He considers carefully before he answers you.
"...I think they'll be happy for us. Your Mom'll be excited. It might be a little harder for your Dad to navigate, I guess, but... he'll be okay."
"Yeah. You're probably right."
The rational part of your brain is telling you that he is. They'll be ecstatic that the two of you have found your person. The celebrations will be endless.
But there's a tiny, nagging piece of your mind that won't let you rest. It's taunting you, telling you that they're going to be confused, shocked, upset. That they won't accept the two of you. You can't lose them over a soulmate. You won't.
You clear your throat and stand from your spot, picking up your empty plates.
"Don't you have to be at work soon? I doubt you can show up in pajamas."
"I'm the boss, pretty girl. I can wear whatever the hell I want."
You raise an eyebrow at him, and he relents.
"Fine. I need to change. But I'll see you later? At your Mom's?"
"Yeah, of course. I'll see you there."
You walk Bucky to the door, opening it expectantly. He looks at you for a moment too long, still unconvinced by your reassurances from earlier.
"If you need anything, just call me. You know you can talk to me anytime, yeah?"
"Yeah," you confirm, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his t shirt. "I know, Buck. Thanks."
He leans in to kiss your forehead before leaving you in the doorway, more confused than ever.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You commit your day to baking your feelings away.
As soon as Bucky left your apartment, the space felt empty, incomplete. Much like you do. As much as you hate to admit it, you feel better when Bucky is around. You know it's the whole Tethering thing, but still. Your heart feels fuller, the world seems brighter, the sun on your skin is warmer. Everything's easier when your soulmate is next to you.
You click on the radio, a soft, jazzy melody filling your kitchen. You begin to measure your ingredients, picking up bowls, utensils and your piping bags as you go.
This is the only thing you've ever felt like you were made to do. Sure, you've had hobbies as you've grown up. You're a good swimmer, you enjoyed soccer, you weren't too bad at dance. But nothing compared to baking.
Which at first, sounded ridiculous. Grown ups would ask you what you wanted to be when you were older, and when you said Baker, they'd laugh in that patronising way that adults do. It didn't stop you, though.
Your Grandma bought you a half empty recipe book for your tenth birthday. You can create your own and add them, she'd said. You'll be publishing a book with your name on in no time.
Your parents took you on a European vacation when you were sixteen. In Amsterdam, you passed this tiny little bakery, tucked away down a back street. It was red brick with a big window in the front, showcasing the cakes and endless sweet treats they had to offer. When you peered through the glass, you watched as the woman who you assumed was the owner went about her day. She looked so happy to be serving her customers. You decided then and there that was going to be you one day. A Bakery of your own. A happy life.
Which is why you're having such a hard time. You haven't talked to Stella since she called you, and you're worried she's going to change her mind if she doesn't hear from you soon. You haven't talked to Bucky about it either, even though he presented you with opportunity after opportunity this morning. It's starting to feel like the walls are caving in.
So, you do what you do best. Bake.
The day passes by quicker than anticipated, lost in a cloud of cinnamon and powdered sugar. You're wiping down your counters when your phone rings, Bucky's name lighting up your screen.
"Hi, Buck."
"Hey, pretty baby. You want me to pick you up later? I'm passing your place anyway."
He's always thinking of you so selflessly. The thought makes your heart stutter for a moment.
"You sure you don't mind?"
"Course not. I can drop by at six? Gives us enough time to help your Mom set up."
"Sounds perfect. Thanks, Buck."
"See you then, honey."
You hang up the phone and realise the hours have completely escaped you. You jump in the shower and do your hair and makeup in record time, miraculously. You're stood in a towel in front of your closet when you feel Bucky pull up outside. The tension in your chest eases a little, and you take a deep, full breath. He knocks on the door, and you completely relax.
"Hey, you," he greets, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.
You take a step back to look at him, and almost lose your balance. He looks ridiculously handsome. He's wearing a dark short sleeve button up that hugs his biceps so tightly, you're worried it might burst open. His jeans cling to his thighs deliciously, and the leather jacket slung over his shoulder adds a ruggedness that most men couldn't pull off. Your eyes rake over him slowly, taking him in from top to bottom. He lets you devour him, smirk never leaving his lips. Eventually, you meet his gaze.
"You see something you like?"
"You clean up real nice, Barnes," you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.
You untangle yourself from him before you jump his bones, and walk back to your closet. He follows you and sits on the edge of your bed, watching your every move like a hawk.
You pick out a sage green sundress that skims your thighs and hugs you in all the right places. It's a warm night, and your Mom loves to start a bonfire when it's cold.
"Close your eyes, playboy," you scold jokingly, laughing when he flops backwards to stare at your ceiling.
You slip the dress on, and realise it has a zipper at the back that you can't reach.
"Buck? Can you zip me up, please?"
He rises from his spot on the bed and strides over to you, standing a little closer than necessary. He pulls the zip upwards ever so slowly, fingertips brushing your spine as he goes. He's so warm and so broad behind you that it sends a shiver through your body.
Bucky brushes your hair to one side and leans down to press a featherlight kiss the place where your neck meets your shoulder. You hum in contentment, which only spurs him on. He begins to leave kisses wherever he pleases - your shoulder, your neck, behind your ear. You practically melt into him, and he wraps his arms around you to keep you steady.
"You look so beautiful," he murmurs against your skin. "Prettiest girl I've ever seen."
You smile at his words, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder.
"Says the man that looks like a goddamn supermodel."
"Oh, angel. Now you're just lying to me."
His chuckle rumbles through the both of you, the sound lighting up your nerve endings.
Your eyes flick across the room, where you notice the clock on the wall.
"Baby," you whisper. "You gotta stop. We're gonna be late."
He groans lowly and lets his head loll into the crease of your shoulder.
"I was fine until you called me baby," he murmurs. "Now that's all I'm gonna be thinking about for the rest of the night."
"Sorry."
"You're not."
"I'm not."
You both laugh and untangle yourselves, you moving to put on your shoes while Bucky straightens himself out.
"You gonna be able to keep your hands to yourself, lover boy?"
"I'm gonna have to," he grumbles, trying to hide the smile that's fighting to take over his face.
You lean against him as you do up the straps of your shoes, dancing your fingers down his arm to interlink your hands.
"Ready?" you ask, looking up at him with big doe eyes.
"Ready," he confirms, leaning down to kiss you chastely.
"A night of pretending that we're not soulmates. How hard can that be?"
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Pretending that Bucky isn't your soulmate is one of the hardest things you've ever done.
You haven't even made it inside yet.
Buck parks his truck in your parents driveway and turns to look at you. You've been silent the entire ride over, and it's making him anxious. He reaches over and places a warm palm on your bare thigh, thumb rubbing patterns back and forth.
"You okay?"
You take a deep breath, which is all the answer he needs.
You look into his eyes for the first time since you were in your apartment, and have to fight to stop yourself from crying. You nod and bite your lip, inhaling and exhaling carefully.
"You're okay. I promise. It's me and you, honey girl. It's me and you."
You want to crawl over into Bucky's lap and bury your face in his chest. You want to curl up in his strong arms and let his scent envelope you. You want to tangle your fingers into his hair and smash his lips to yours, until you don't know where you end and Bucky begins.
Instead, you bring his hand from your thigh to your lips, and kiss each of his knuckles tenderly. The gesture makes his heart beat so fast, he's a little worried he's about to pass out.
"Come and talk to me anytime tonight, okay? I've got you. I've always got you."
You nod again, and take another deep breath.
"I know, Buck. It's the only thing I'm sure of."
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"My baby!"
Your Mom smothers you in a hug the minute you knock on the door, almost tipping you over in the process.
"Oh, you look so beautiful. This colour is gorgeous on you, sweetheart."
The heaviness of your heart gets a little lighter at the sight of your Mother. She's magic like that.
"Thanks Mama. Is your skirt new? It's pretty."
She gives you a twirl, the skirt billowing around her like a princess. Both you and Bucky smile when you catch each others eyes briefly.
"I got it on our trip! Your Dad got a new shirt too - he looks so handsome."
She's grinning from ear to ear talking about him. Your smile only gets wider.
Bucky gives your Mom a one armed hug, and hands her a white box with a bow on.
"I wish I could say this is from me, but I don't have nearly enough talent for that."
"You're plenty good at other things, Buck," she laughs. "What's in here, sweetheart?"
"Apple, carrot and cinnamon cake with cream cheese frosting. I piped little bunny rabbits on top, too."
Before she can say anything else, you take the box from her hands and walk into the house.
"We better put this in the refrigerator before the frosting melts!" you call as you leave.
"Come on Buck, let's get you a drink. Jack bought your favourite."
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Your parents backyard looks incredible.
Golden fairylights adorn the deck, illuminating the dining area that your Mom has set up. The table is covered with a white lace tablecloth, and littered with tea lights and candlesticks. Each place setting has a wine and a water glass ready, fringed cushions perched on each wooden chair. There's a beautiful bouquet of flowers in a stained glass vase as the centerpiece, more flowers scattered across the entirety of the table.
The sun hasn't set yet, and the entire garden is dripping with the glowing orange hue of the evening. The air is warm and calm, salty ocean breeze only disrupting the peace occasionally. If summer were to be summed up in a night, it'd be this one.
Your Dad is pouring water into all of the glasses from an ornate painted jug when you walk into the yard.
"Hi, Papa."
"Oh, sweetheart!" he smiles in surprise, abandoning his task to come and give you a hug. "You look amazing. I like your dress."
"Thank you - hey, is this your new shirt? It suits you!"
"It's nice, right? Your Mom picked it out. She said the colour brings out my eyes."
You look him up and down comically, crossing your arms over your chest like a cartoon detective.
"Hmm... she's right. It definitely does."
You're both laughing when your Mom and Bucky join you, the two men immediately smacking each other on the back affectionately.
"Where you been, Buck? Work keeping you busy?"
"Stupidly busy - you wouldn't even believe."
"Well, it's your night off, so no shop talk!" your Mom encourages, handing Bucky a beer.
"Easier said than done," he winks, and your breathing picks up just a little.
"Mama, do you need help with anything in the kitchen?"
"Oh, yes please, sweetheart. Come, let me show you what needs doing."
The two of you leave the men to catch up, walking inside to prep the appetisers.
You're slicing tomatoes carefully when you turn to watch your Mom for a minute. She's chopping up basil, completely engrossed. The evening sun beams in, illuminating her as she stands by the window. You love her so much it makes you unsteady on your feet.
"Hey, Mama? Can I talk to you about something?"
She turns and immediately stops what she's doing, giving her full attention to you.
"Of course you can, baby. Anything at all."
You take a deep breath, and carry on slicing while you talk.
"So, you remember Stella, right?
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The night goes off without a hitch.
There's good food, gorgeous wine and even better company. Your parents invited many of their friends, meaning twelve of you are sat around the meticulously prepared table. In between courses, there's conversation, laughter and games, everyone letting go of the stress of the week.
You're doing everything you can to avoid looking at Bucky. You're worried that if someone catches the two of you, they'll know everything. You're surprised you haven't confessed already, the weight of the secret too heavy to bear.
Your Mom is cutting your cake on the table when there's a sudden commotion.
"Oh, fuck!"
"Shit! Shit, I'm sorry. Shit."
"Is everyone okay?" your Mom asks, flitting to the other end of the table.
"I'm so fucking clumsy, my God. Dropped my wine straight onto Bucky," Jesse, one of your Dad's oldest friends, explains.
"As long as it doesn't stain my white tablecloth, we're fine," your Mom laughs. "What do you need, Buck?"
"It's only white wine, luckily, so no stain. I'm just wet. I'm gonna go dry off."
"I have a hairdryer?" you offer without thinking.
"Good idea, honey. Go help Bucky upstairs while I get some paper towels."
You rise from your chair and make your way inside, heart racing as Bucky follows you. You rummage around the drawers of your childhood bedroom, certain you used to keep all of your hair tools here somewhere.
"You got it?" a warm, whiskey smooth voice asks from behind you.
"Got it," you reply, standing up with the hairdryer in your hand.
Bucky kicks the door closed behind him, and takes a step into you.
"I can't focus on anything when you're sat there in that dress," he murmurs. "Look like a fuckin' angel, all pretty under the lights."
Heat blooms over your chest, and you pray he doesn't notice. Your breathing quickens, and you step forward too, now chest to chest with him.
"I'm so worried that I'm going to accidentally blurt it out," you confess. "You're the only thing that's on my mind."
Bucky leans down to press his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss. You fist your hands into his shirt and pull him closer, snaking your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like mint and sugar and every kiss for the rest of your life.
He groans when you bite his lip, nipping yours back in retaliation.
"Easy, baby," he warns teasingly. "I can't go back down there black and blue."
You roll your eyes and kiss him harder, practically melting when he grabs at your ass roughly.
"What do you need, pretty girl?" he questions against your mouth. "I'll give you anything."
You're panting against him, vibrating with need.
"Need you to take the edge off," you whisper, hands shaking as you unbutton his wet shirt. "Can't carry on like this. Please, baby. Please."
"We've gotta be quick," he reminds, sneaking his hand under your dress to tease you over your underwear.
You grab at his shoulders for leverage, almost certain your knees aren't going to hold out long enough. Bucky doesn't even take your panties off, just slips his hand down the front. It feels filthier this way.
"Fuck," he groans. "This all for me, honey? You been thinking about this?"
"Yes," you whine. "All I've thought about."
Bucky wastes no time, slipping a finger into you easily. After a minute, he adds another, setting a steady rhythm immediately.
"Shit," you breathe, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his chest. "We're supposed to be taking it slow."
"You want me to go slow?"
"No, fuck," you say immediately. "Don't stop. Please."
He chuckles lowly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.
"I won't, baby. Almost there."
It should be embarrassing, how quickly he can take you to the edge, but you don't care. This is what having a soulmate is. They know you better than anyone - inside and out.
"So close," you whisper.
"I know, pretty baby. I can feel it. Stay quiet and come for me. That's it."
You can't hold out when he uses that tone with you. You're thrown over the edge, your climax running through you like molten honey, hot and delicious. Your knees buckle, and Bucky uses a strong arm around your middle to hold you up.
"There we go," he's murmuring. "Atta girl. That's my girl."
You wrap your arms around his waist and breathe him in, finally coming back to your senses.
"My parents are gonna wonder where we are," you realise. "Grab your shirt and the hairdryer. You're gonna have to do it while I recover."
Bucky smiles at you with so much affection, the world stops spinning for a second. This is a moment of bliss. The two of you revel in it.
Bucky dries his shirt while you go back outside, trying to keep suspicion to a minimum.
"Fixed, sweetheart?" your Mom asks, holding out a piece of cake to you. You take it gratefully and sit back down, relaxing into your chair.
"Yeah, it's basically dry. That hairdryer is old, so it's taking a while."
"Well you didn't miss much, other than Jesse telling the Joshua Tree story for the fortieth time this month," your Dad laughs.
"You love that story, asshole!" Jesse yells, just as Bucky re-enters the garden. He throws you a mischievous smile, which you reciprocate with ease.
Everyone is a little more careful with their wine as the night goes on, keeping all the glasses planted firmly on the table.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"So then I said, well, if you don't like it, leave!"
You're pretty sure you've heard your Mom's friend Cora tell this story before, but you're all laughing like it's the first time. She has such an animated voice, you're convinced you could listen to her read the phone book.
"Which, I mean, I didn't think he would. Imagine breaking up over a chinchilla! A fucking chinchilla!"
You're laughing so hard your sides hurt. You look over to Bucky, and see that he's grinning like a Cheshire cat. You could get used to this.
"So I watched him pack his shit, box by box. Which took fucking ages, by the way. He was using those big plastic boxes, you know the black ones? And he was filling them so carefully and so slowly, that I started helping him!"
You wipe a tear from your face, still doubled over in amusement. You're gonna be sore tomorrow, the way your abs hurt now.
"But I didn't want him taking those boxes, because they're nice, right? They're expensive, and they're mine! So I helped him move out, and then unpacked all of his shit so I could have my boxes back."
Your Mom, despite hearing this story before, hasn't taken her eyes off Cora the entire time. She's such a careful listener. It's one of the things you love most about her.
"Oh, I'll drop them off for you, if you like!" Cora yells, staring directly at you. Everyone turns to look at you in confusion.
"Why would she need all your boxes?" Jesse laughs.
"For the big move!"
Time stands still. The world goes silent. Your heart stops beating.
"...What move?" Bucky asks, never taking his eyes off you.
"To California! Her dream job, falling in her lap. We're so proud of you, babygirl. You've worked so hard for this."
Cora's tearing up now, the alcohol catching up to her. She raises her glass high in the air.
"To our little superstar. The best baker the world has ever seen! Cheers!"
Everyone clinks their glasses together in the middle of the table, except for you and Bucky. You haven't taken your eyes off each other. The world carries on, but you stay still.
You suddenly feel a cacophony of emotions - sadness, anger, betrayal, hurt and confusion settling like ten tonne weights onto your chest. Then it hits you - you're feeling what Bucky feels.
Previous Chapter. Next Chapter. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.
Pairing - Dad's Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au
Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky try to navigate what it means to be soulmates - and how difficult it is to keep your hands off each other.
Warnings - smut. cursing.
Word Count - 4k
Author's Note - part two!! thank you SO much for all of the love on part one - it has made me immensely happy. you're all the sweetest and i'm so grateful. i'm going on vacation in a few days, so i'm taking a hiatus for a few weeks as i won't have cell service. so, consider this my parting gift to you <3
as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3 please, send me your thoughts, predictions, desires!! I will get excited with you!!
Masterlist. Inbox.
Sunlight streams through the billowing white curtains, rousing you slowly. The gentle breeze cools the room, salt sticking to the air. Warmth is seeping into the glass of the windows, encouraging you to kick your sheets to the foot of your bed, limbs stretching and rolling.
You wake, and for a moment, you feel perfectly at peace. You feel light, tranquil, relaxed. You flex your neck from side to side, yawning as you do it. You notice that the sun is already up, beaming into your bedroom. It's going to be a very warm day, you think. I better pack sunblock.
You glance to where your bag is thrown haphazardly on the floor, contents spilling everywhere. It's unlike you, to not put something away properly. You take pride in being a tidy person. You must have been exhausted when you got home last night.
That's when it hits you.
Bucky.
The events of yesterday coming crashing down around you like a tidal wave. Hearts racing, hands interlacing, lips melding. Bodies tangling, breaths matching, knees buckling. Two souls, tied together forever.
Your Tethering.
To Bucky. Your Dad's best friend Bucky.
His absence is suddenly all you can think about. He's not here, and you feel like half of your heart is missing. You ache. There's a discomfort that you know can only be cured by the presence of your soulmate.
You're deep in thought when your phone rings, startling you. It's Bucky.
"Mornin' sugar," he drawls. The low tone of his voice is like molten honey, gorgeous and golden.
"Good morning, Buck."
You hear him exhale at the sound of your voice.
"I know we said we'd meet at ten, but can we make it earlier?" he asks. Then, quieter, "Feel like I can't breathe without you."
He murmurs the last part, as if it's a secret. Something sacred.
"Of course, Buck. I can be ready by nine?"
"Thanks, sweet girl. I'll pick you up?"
"Perfect. See you then."
"See you then."
It's almost painful to hang up the phone. It's like there's a gravitational force in The Universe, willing you against it. You ignore it defiantly and press the red button, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.
There's something in your gut telling you that this might just be the first day of the rest of your life. You certainly can't go back to the way things were. You're not sure if you want to.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Bucky arrives at 8:45.
You're in the bathroom with the door closed, so you don't hear him pull up. You feel it. Like a magnetism, alerting you to his whereabouts. You breathe a little easier immediately, knowing he's outside.
You grab your bag and the picnic and pull on your shoes, eager to see him. You feel like a teenager again, giddy with anticipation. Apart from, this isn't your average first date. No, this is your last first date ever. This is a first date with the man you're bound to spend the rest of your life with. No pressure, you tell yourself. One step at a time.
Your heart kicks up in double time, thundering against your ribcage. You inhale deeply, cracking your knuckles. You can do this. It's just Bucky.
You bound down your stairs, practically running to his truck. Bucky's leaning against the passenger door, the wind ruffling his hair, sunlight reflecting off his steely blue eyes. He's wearing shorts and a white button up, which is blowing gently in the breeze. His sleeves are pushed up his forearms, exposing his gorgeous tanned skin. He has several shirt buttons undone, accentuating his broad chest, sunglasses tucked into the breast pocket. He looks so handsome. So classically elegant. Like he belongs in an old movie - a perfect leading man.
He eyes you carefully, gauging your reaction. You can tell he doesn't want to overstep, worried about pushing you too far too fast. You walk over and run your fingers across his exposed chest gently, tracing a path up his neck until you're caressing his cheek. His stubble tickles your fingertips, causing a smile to curl at the corners of your mouth. You finally meet his gaze, and all your stress is forgotten. You feel peaceful again.
"Hi," you whisper.
"Hi, pretty girl," he murmurs back, hands finding your waist. "You alright?"
"I'm okay. Are you okay?"
"I'm okay," he grins. "So, how do you feel about a day of sailing? You, me, and the ocean, baby."
"I think that sounds perfect."
He opens the car door for you, helping you up and into the passenger seat. He climbs in, clicking on his seat belt and starting the engine. Before he pulls away, he turns and looks at you, holding your stare for a moment. Bucky reaches for you, lacing your fingers together, resting your intertwined hands on your thigh. He begins to drive away, taking you towards the ocean. Towards your future.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You know nothing about sailing.
Luckily, you don't need to. Bucky's quite content to keep you sitting pretty on the top deck while he does all of the work, pulling and tying and knotting. The crisp white sails billow in the wind, the ocean waves providing a steady, constant soundtrack. Birds fly overhead, sunshine beaming down, the wood underneath you warm and smooth. It's paradise.
You're soaking up the sun rays when you hear a click. You sit up to see Bucky holding his film camera, pointed right at you.
"Creep," you tease.
"Just want to have something to look back on. Our first day as soulmates. It's an occasion, you know," he grins.
He moves across the boat to sit next to you, thigh pressed up against yours. He's so close you can taste the spearmint on his breath. You tangle a hand in his hair, caressing the back of his head.
"I brought you a few new things to try," you tell him. "Some recipes I'm testing. I want your honest opinion. No sugar coating. Promise?"
"I promise," he winks, holding up a scouts honour. "I wouldn't lie to you, honey."
You reach over and grab your picnic basket, unwrapping various beeswax packages and laying them out in front of you.
"Okay - we have white chocolate and pistachio muffins, raspberry and lemon macarons, earl grey and lavender cookies and carrot and cinnamon cake."
You glance over at Bucky, expecting him to be deciding what to try first. Instead, you find him watching you carefully, gentle smile etched across his face.
"What?" you laugh.
"Nothing," he beams. "I just... I love it when you start talking about food. You're passionate. You light up."
"Don't make it weird," you joke, slightly taken aback by his honesty. He did promise not to sugar coat.
He reaches for a macaron, eager to try one after you mentioned them yesterday. He pops one in his mouth, and lets out a groan that can only be described as pornographic.
"Fuck," he moans. "This might be the best thing I've ever eaten."
"You promised you wouldn't lie," you laugh.
"I'm not," he chuckles, placing his hand over his heart. "I swear to you. These things should be used as medicine. They'd cure anything."
"Shut up," you tease bashfully, bumping your shoulder into his.
He tries the other sweets one by one, complimenting you immensely. He's so specific in the way he commends your baking. He comments on certain flavours, and textures, and the way everything melts on his tongue. He really takes the time to think about what he says. It's so intimate.
"You're gonna do this for a living, right?" he asks, turning to face you.
"I hope so," you confess. "It's all I want to do. Going to culinary school was a huge risk, but I did it. It was difficult, but they were also the best four years of my life. I just learned so much. I want to put it all into practice."
"I think you should. It'd be such a waste if you didn't. You're so talented, sugar."
"Thanks, Buck," you grin. "I just don't know where to start."
He thinks for a moment.
"If you could do anything, anything in the world - what would you do?"
He's looking at you so intensely, you almost want to shy away. His steel blue eyes are boring into you, reading your mind, figuring out your soul.
"I'd... I'd open a bakery of my own. I want a lot that overlooks the ocean. With big windows."
Bucky smiles gently, adoration written across his face.
"I'd be your most loyal customer," he vows. "Oh, I have a better idea - I'll be your quality control. I'll taste test everything before you sell it. You know, just in case."
"Just in case," you laugh. "Right."
"It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it," he winks.
The sound of your laughter is like dopamine to Bucky. It fires off neurons in his brain, receptors buzzing and alight. He almost feels drunk off the sound, floating above ground.
You relax into him, laying down and resting your head in his lap. He's warm, and soft, and so comfortable. You could lie here forever.
He runs his fingers through your hair gently, playing with the strands. The repetitive rocking of the boat lulls you into an easy sleep, the sunlight wrapping around you, taking the place of a blanket. Bucky watches you drift off, unable to wipe the smile off his face.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
A particularly strong gust of wind wakes you, rousing you from sleep. Your fingers are interlinked with Bucky's, head still resting on his strong thighs.
"How long was I out?" you ask, looking up at him.
"Like, twenty minutes? You looked peaceful, thought I'd let you rest."
"Sorry, Buck," you chuckle.
"Hey, don't apologise. I'll take it as a compliment. You know, they say you only sleep around the people you feel safe with."
"They say a lot of fuckin' things," you laugh, repeating his words from yesterday.
"I do, though," you say after a moment. "Feel safe with you. It's not just the soulmate thing. I always have."
Bucky leans down to press his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. He pulls away and kisses the spot where you were just connected.
"We should talk about us," you murmur, sitting up to face him.
"Uh oh. Are you breaking up with me?" Bucky jokes, nudging your knee with his.
"Yeah, right," you scoff. "As if you'd be so lucky. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid."
"I'll survive," he winks. "But we should. Talk about us."
You look at each other for a moment, carefully. You notice that the ocean is reflecting in Bucky's eyes, waves gleaming and blue.
"I don't know where to start," you whisper.
"Maybe start at the beginning," he suggests, reaching out to rest his palm on your thigh, fingertips rubbing comforting circles into your skin.
"I... I think - I think we should do exactly that. Start at the beginning."
He nods at you reassuringly, urging you to continue.
"I want to start slow. Really slow. I know we already know each other, but this... this is different. We don't know each other like this."
"Like soulmates," he agrees. "It's a whole other level. A league of its own."
"Exactly. I know we're Tethered, but, I think we should treat this like a normal relationship. We should date, and just... take this step by step."
"One step at a time," he confirms. "Prepare yourself, honey. I'm about to date the hell outta you."
"Someone save me," you laugh, throwing your head back. "All those poor girls that have come before me - they had to put up with this?"
He laughs with you, the sound rumbling in his chest.
"Trust me, sugar, you're different."
Bucky leans forward and slots his lips to yours, hands going to your waist to pull you closer.
Kissing your soulmate is unlike any other feeling. It's complete serenity. Two bodies, designed by The Universe to fit together perfectly.
Your fingers thread through Bucky's hair as you move to sit in his lap, straddling him. You grind your hips forward, illiciting a groan from the both of you.
Bucky slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting the sugar there. He can't get enough. You're so sweet and soft underneath his hands, underneath his tongue. He wants more.
He tips you backwards, so you're lying flat on the deck. Bucky moves to kneel in between your legs, prying them open gently. He kisses his way from your ankle to your knee, occasionally nipping at your flesh. He likes the idea of there being a mark on you that he left. He feels more protective of you than he ever has of anyone. The feeling vibrates through his bones, fires up his nerve endings. He needs to feel every inch of your skin as soon as possible, or he's convinced he'll burst into flames.
He smooths his hands up your thighs, fingers catching in the waistband of your shorts. He shimmies them down your legs, and inhales sharply at the sight before him. You're laid out on the deck of his boat like a goddess, the white shirt adorning your body matching the white lace underwear underneath. The sun rays are beating down, illuminating you, making you glow from the inside out. Bucky can't breathe, looking at you. He feels like all of the oxygen has been stolen from his lungs, replaced with pure desire.
You're breathless, panting, chest heaving. You're shaking with anticipation, willing him to do something. Anything.
"Bucky," you whine. "Please."
He's never heard a prettier sound. It's like angel song, the way you say his name.
"Patience, sweets. I thought we were taking it slow."
"Asshole," you laugh, poking him in the chest with your toe. "You're a hypocrite."
"Am I?" he smirks, running his fingertips across the inside of your thighs.
"Yes. You can't kiss me like that and then tell me to have patience."
"My apologies, ma'am."
He leans over and kisses you again, biting your bottom lip as he pulls away. Bucky slips your underwear down your legs and tucks them into the pocket of his shorts, ignoring your scoff as you watch him do it.
"Come here, pretty baby," he murmurs, tugging at your hips to pull you closer to him.
He nudges your core with his nose, inhaling deeply. It's filthy, the action, but it makes you ache with want. He licks into the crease of your thigh next, tasting the salt on your skin. Your hand flies to his hair, tugging the chocolate strands. You whine again, and Bucky commits the sound to memory.
He surprises you by sucking your clit gently, causing your hips to buck up towards his mouth. He splays one hand across your stomach, holding you down. He uses his other hand to insert a finger into you, groaning at your warmth. He crooks it up, and you keen.
"I know, baby, I know," he coos, adding a second finger.
You're not sure if it's because of the glaring sunlight or because of Bucky, but there's a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin, dripping down your temple. You're burning from the inside out, white hot heat running through your veins.
He thrusts both fingers in and out of you steadily, curling them on the up stroke. You throw your head back, hips wriggling and writhing.
"Where you going, pretty girl?" he drawls. "Come here - that's it."
He pulls you back to him, fingers never stopping. He looks up at you, and notices that you've thrown a hand over your face, shielding yourself.
"Don't go shy on me now," he practically purrs, smiling when you move your arm away. "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
"Fuck," you moan, suddenly glad you're in the middle of the ocean. The sounds you're letting out are filthy.
"I know, pretty baby. I know."
His fingers push you closer and closer to the edge, speeding up slightly. You're whining, keening, hips bucking up into him. You can't stay still. You feel like you're on fire, red hot electricity running through you. It's never been like this with anyone before. It never will be again.
"You're close, honey, I can feel it. You're almost there," he drawls. "Atta girl. Come on, baby. You got it. Good girl."
His low, honeyed words throw you into your climax, back arching off the sun warmed wood. Bucky talks you through it, encouraging and praising you in hushed murmurs. You see stars, bright white patterns flashing behind your eyelids. The world goes quiet for a moment, and all you feel is peace.
Bucky brings you back to reality by rubbing soothing circles into the bare skin of your thigh, still muttering softly. He lets you catch your breath before leaning over and kissing you gently.
"You okay, sugar?"
You smile at him in a daze, still floating on air.
"I'm good, Buck. Very good, actually."
He laughs at your response, moving your hair away from your face. You sit up to look at him, admiring him carefully.
"You're so pretty," you whisper. "I mean, I've always known it. But now, it's so... blinding. You're the most beautiful person in the world."
He's not sure how to process your words. He's never felt so loved, so safe, so appreciated before. It's overwhelming. He doesn't know what to say - so instead, he kisses you hard.
"You're the sweetest girl in the world, you know that right?" he whispers against your lips.
He moves to sit behind you, so your back is resting against his chest. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smells like warmth, and salt, and home.
"I don't think we should tell my parents," you say lowly, afraid to ruin the moment. "Not yet, anyway."
"I agree," he reassures. "I think we should figure this out first. Figure us out."
You lean up and peck his lips gently, pulling away to trace your fingertips over the contours of his face.
"It's gonna take a while to figure this out, isn't it?"
"That's the thing, sweet girl. We have all the time in the world."
You relax back into his arms, letting his steady heartbeat lull you into complete tranquility.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You spend all day on the boat with Bucky, soaking up the sun. Your shirts are billowing in the wind, hair blowing in every direction. The ocean rocks you both in routine motion, gentle and calming.
He teaches you the basics of sailing, sitting knee to knee with you while you repeatedly tie knots into pieces of rope. He stands behind you comfortingly as you pull and tug at the rigging, supporting you only when you ask for help.
The two of you sit tangled together on the deck, enjoying your picnic. You take a moment to rub sunblock into Bucky's shoulders, ignoring the heat that rises in your chest when he groans in delight. He's irresistible. This is more than just lust. This is a magnetism, an almost animalistic connection. It's quite literally written in the stars.
The both of you are clearly reluctant to go home. You sit in Bucky's truck outside your apartment for hours, talking about nothing and everything. You don't invite him upstairs. You know that if you do, you'll jump his bones instantly. You've both agreed to take this slow. You have to start being strict with yourselves, or you'll just keep ending up in bed.
Eventually, your stomach rumbles, making Bucky chuckle.
"You should go. Eat something."
"I know. I just... I like being with you."
He leans over the centre console to press a kiss to your lips, revelling in the way you taste like the ocean breeze.
"There's no one else in the world I'd rather be with," he murmurs against your mouth.
You pull away and take a deep breath, preparing to leave Bucky for tonight.
"Thank you, for today. It's been perfect."
"Perfect day for a perfect girl," he winks, making you both laugh.
"One step at a time."
"All the time in the world," he echoes.
"Goodnight, Buck," you whisper, moving in closer to press your forehead to his.
"Goodnight, honey girl," he whispers back, pecking your lips quickly.
He jumps out of the drivers side to help you down from the truck, holding your hand carefully. You smile at the déjà vu. He does too.
You look back at him once more before closing your front door. He's already looking at you, his eyes never once leaving your frame, smile never leaving his face.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You're curled up on the couch when your phone rings, startling you from your peace. You look at the caller ID in confusion.
"Stella? Hey - you okay?"
"Hey, you. Long time no see, huh?"
"It's been a while," you laugh. "I didn't expect a call from you."
"I'm sorry we haven't talked in so long. I've been super busy - I'm opening my own café! It has a bookshop inside it too - oh it's gorgeous, you wouldn't even believe it."
"That sounds amazing, Stella. I'm so happy for you, wow."
"I'm actually calling because I have something to ask you."
"Ask away, Stell."
"I have a sort of... proposition for you. An offer, if you will."
"You're really building the anticipation here," you chuckle.
"Sorry, sorry! So, I'm gonna need a Head Baker. I can't do it, because I'll be manager, and I'm the owner which is a tough job in itself. Opening a café is fucking difficult, you know!" she laughs, before continuing. "You'd have complete creative control - you'd design your own bakes, everything would be completely down to you. There's quite literally only one person in this world that I'd want to do this job, and it's you."
You almost can't believe what she's telling you. It sounds perfect. It sounds like a dream.
"Stella - are you sure? This is a huge deal. You want me?"
"I only want you. I can't picture working alongside anyone else. We made such a good team in culinary school, and we always said we'd find each other in the future."
"I... I don't even know what to say."
"Say yes!" she encourages, giggling down the phone.
"Yes!" you echo, giddy with joy. "God, Stella, yes!"
You're smiling from ear to ear, unable to wipe the grin off your face. Your dream job has been presented to you on a silver platter. You'd be stupid not to take it.
"I mean - when do I start? What should I wear? Do you want a set menu, or can I change it up all the time? Vegan options? Gluten free?"
"I can send you all of the boring stuff in an email - contracts, salary information, all that shit. You can quite literally do whatever the fuck you want, girl. I trust you completely. I trust your culinary skills even more."
"Oh my god, I'm so excited. Thank you, Stella. Seriously. This is just amazing."
"I can't wait to have you here with me again!"
You process for a moment, trying to make sense of what she just said.
"Wait... what? Where?"
"In California. The café is here, in California!"
You can't hear her next words due to the ringing in your ears. Your chest tightens, your hands ball into fists, your breathing becomes ragged.
There's a million thoughts racing through your mind, and you can't quite get a firm grasp on any of them.
Bucky would never leave this place. This is his home. I can't ask him to abandon his life here - I wouldn't want to. We've been soulmates for two days. What about his job? His friends? Would I leave everything behind and move across the country for him? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I can't have my cake and eat it too. He'd give everything up for me in a heartbeat - I can't let him. It's not fair.
You're suddenly intensely aware - you have to make a choice.
Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.
Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au
Age Rating - 18+
Word Count - 5.1k
Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).
Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x
as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3
Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.
next chapter (two).
Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/
An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.
"Babe! Babe! Babe!"
"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"
"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"
You can guess. In fact, you already have.
Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.
You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.
You wish people would shut up about it.
The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.
You fall into the latter.
You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.
You're not sure you ever want it to happen.
The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.
Not everyone shares the same sentiment.
"Babe, you still there?"
Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.
"Yeah, I'm here."
"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"
You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.
"Sure. I'll see you in ten."
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."
You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.
"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.
The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.
"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"
She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.
"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."
As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.
"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."
"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.
"Like fucking magic."
You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.
"Magic?" you prompt.
"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"
She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.
"So, what's his name? What's he like?"
"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"
"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.
"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."
You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.
"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"
"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."
You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.
"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"
"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."
Jackpot. She's read you like a book.
"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"
"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"
"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"
You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.
"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."
"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."
Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.
"Hi, Mama."
"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."
She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.
"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."
"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."
She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.
"You've poured four, Mama."
"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."
"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."
"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"
She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.
Your Dad's best friend.
They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.
He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.
Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.
She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.
It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.
A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.
Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.
Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.
Might as well make the most of the freedom.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.
"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.
"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.
"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.
"I brought your favourite, Lori."
"So did I," you echo, laughing.
"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"
"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."
"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.
The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.
"Lacie got Tethered."
"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.
"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.
"Tell me about it."
"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."
"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."
"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."
"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."
"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."
"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."
"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."
"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.
And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.
"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.
"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."
You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.
"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."
You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.
"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.
"You got big late night plans?" you tease.
"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."
Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.
"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"
"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."
"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.
You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.
"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.
"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"
They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.
"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.
"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.
"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.
"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.
"Maybe?" he smirks.
"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."
"Like hell you will," he grumbles.
You quirk a brow in confusion.
"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."
You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.
"Why don't we go somewhere?"
"Where?" you ask tentatively.
"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"
You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.
"I fucking love the beach."
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.
The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.
The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.
A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.
"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."
He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.
"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."
Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.
"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."
"And what is this?"
"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."
You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.
"Me too," he whispers.
You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.
"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."
You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.
"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"
He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.
"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."
"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.
"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.
You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.
"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."
You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.
"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"
"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."
He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.
"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.
"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."
"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."
You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.
"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."
"You're the best, sugar."
You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.
"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.
"Nope. You?"
"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"
The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?
"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."
"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.
Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.
"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"
You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.
"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."
He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.
"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."
"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.
"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."
"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.
Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.
"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."
You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.
"Woah, easy. You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.
He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.
And then, it happens.
Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.
Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.
Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.
After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.
You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.
He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.
You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.
He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.
"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.
A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.
"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."
Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.
You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.
You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.
Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.
You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.
A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.
"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."
"My soulmate," you whisper.
The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.
Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.
"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.
He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.
He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.
"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."
"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.
"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."
You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.
You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.
"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.
"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.
He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.
