＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ november reading list ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
feel free to ignore this. i'm stealing the idea of the beautiful, amazing @chateaubarnes and creating a reading list post to hold me accountable for the fics i want to read in november.
ALSO, i've created a tbr/fic rec acc i'd like to start using. head on over to @heldforlater and give it a follow so you can see all the fics im reading/recommending
the sparrow and the soldier *series* (bucky x batsis!reader) - @herejustforbuckybarnes
the days and nights of bucky barnes (alpha!bucky x reader) - @planetbucky
interlude (dbf!bucky x reader) - @iamthatonefangirl
fragile facade *series* (ex fiance baby daddy!bucky x reader) - @wildflowersandvibranium
lessons in lovemaking *series* (bucky x black widow!reader) @artficlly
solitary love *series* (bucky x single mom!reader) - @juniebjonesin
teach me, love me, keep me (bucky x reader) @chateaubarnes
╰┈➤ lighthouse (bucky x reader)
consequenses of actions (nerdy!college bucky x reader) - @buckyfmd
discipline ( bucky x reader) - @vunblr
╰┈➤ to mend a soldier (bucky x reader)
boo!-ty call (virgin college student!bucky x sex operator!reader) - @superbassbuck
theres something in the trees (hunter!stucky x cryptid!reader) - @54nboo
fuck the police (bucky x reader) - @barnes-babydoll
hail mary (priest!bucky x reader) - @phoenix-in-writing
lust for life (congressman!bucky x assistant!reader) - @barnesonly
to make you feel my love (bucky x reader) - @houseofhyde
i've been waiting (bucky x reader) - @godmadeaterribleerror
off hours (howlies!bucky x reader) - @tw1sters
father figure (bucky x agent!reader) - @lunexiax
you're so vain (bucky x reader) - @blowingbarnes
i know theres so many more and i hope to start doing this every month. if you have any fic recs pls send them my way! i will (eventually) read them and pace my room about how amazing they are🫣 dont forget to follow @heldforlater for more fic recs/tbr stuff!!
˙ ⋆✮ here are some of my favorite bucky barnes fics. please be mindful of tags and remember that likes, reposts, and comments are very punk rock ✮⋆˙
⟢ disclaimer: i highly recommend checking out what each of these authors has to offer! i’m not always up to date on this masterlist.
⋆˙⟡ eyes without a face by @poirotsprotege
you’re on the run and hide with bucky barnes for about two years, during which both of you become closer than either expected (nurse x soldier)
⋆˙⟡ canyons and valleys by @wkemeup
when bucky is forced to put his scars on display, he’s certainly you’ll take one look at him and run.
⋆˙⟡ behind the storm by @wkemeup
on a mission, you're hit with a spell that takes away your ability to see. bucky does what he can to make you feel safe.
⋆˙⟡ soldat by @wkemeup
when a hydra agent finds a way to hack into FRIDAY’s system to trigger bucky into the winter soldier, he nearly kills you. in the aftermath, he can’t begin to find a way to forgive himself. not without your help.
⋆˙⟡ eclipse by @wkemeup
when a mission leaves you empty and broken, bucky is determined to heal the wounds that linger deeper than the cuts on the surface.
⋆˙⟡ sunrise by @wkemeup
after an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, bucky is discharged from active duty and sent back to civilian life. left with a storm of unchecked guilt, bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. this is, until sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (modern au)
⋆˙⟡ guiding light by @wkemeup
it was supposed to be a simple mission. get the intel and go home. until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by hydra.
⋆˙⟡ his girls by @artficlly
alpine barely tolerates anyone but bucky, so when she curls up in your lap without a second thought, the team is left reeling—especially when it leads to the not-so-subtle revelation that you and bucky have been sneaking around for months.
⋆˙⟡ electric touch series by @mcrdvcks
bucky arrives at the compound after spending months in wakanda to get rid of his conditioning. he thought tony would be the least inviting one, not you. but apparently not acknowledging anyone's existence is just the way you are—but bucky's never been one to quit. (post-civil war and post-thunderbolts)
When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.
(Standalone series - not related to any other my other stories/characters)
Unfortunately I don't use taglists.
Warnings: Swearing, angst, betrayal, mean!Bucky,
Chapter 1 - Betrayal
Chapter 1.5 - Before
Chapter 2 - Broken
Chapter 3 - Bolt
Chapter 4 - Build
Chapter 5 - Better
If you enjoyed this series and would like to buy me a coffee, here's my Ko-Fi link 💐
Summary: Bucky thought being a super soldier meant he’d never need glasses, and boy was he wrong. (And you’re grateful for it 😈)
Words: 1K+
A/N: Thank you @sunday-bug for getting me out of my writers block & making the header. You’re such a great friend, I’m thankful for you. (@/saradika-graphics dividers!)
Bucky notices it in the middle of a mission. He can outrun the gunfire, easily but the blur creeping into his vision is harder to deny. For a moment, he tells himself it’s nothing.
Denial comes naturally. The serum they pumped into him all those years ago was meant to preserve him, perfect him, keep him sharp. He hasn’t caught so much as a cold in a decade. So why is his eyesight failing him now?
It takes two days and more than a few mistakes for the truth to settle in. Each misstep chips at his pride until he’s humbled enough to schedule the appointment.
What really unsettles him, though, isn’t the blur. It’s you.
He’s afraid you’ll see him differently. That you’ll look at him and find something breakable where you once saw strength. He doesn’t want to be fragile in your eyes. Doesn’t want to lose the solid, capable man you’ve always known.
So he pulls away, at least for now, and he makes excuses. He has learned to keep his distance. It’s only been two days, but you feel it, the absence, the shift. Bucky, who once claimed he liked to “live in your skin” (his words, not yours), now feels just out of reach. You wonder if something has changed, did he not love you anymore? No, not your Bucky. You wondered if he had been hurt, seriously injured, maybe beyond repair because why else would he be avoiding you like the plague?
Bucky knew it was silly, deep down he knew he was being slightly vain but he couldn't help it. He walked into the optometrist knowing what he would be told, it wasn't like it was a big surprise but having to pick out frames for glasses felt…. humbling. He walked through the room, holding his prescription in his hands like it was psychically going to jump out of them. The options were overwhelming, and finally he decided to make a call, and that call was to you.
“Bucky? Hey, baby.” You could barely hide your excitement. It had only been a few days since you’d last seen him, but it felt like forever.
“Hey, doll,” he replied with a sigh, and you caught the change in his tone right away.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. I just…” He hesitated. “Are you busy? Could you meet me?”
You tried to make sense of the pause, the weight behind his words. “Sure. Do you want to grab lunch somewhere?”
“I’m actually at Cohen’s, the optometrist. I have to choose some frames, and I really wanted your opinion. I figured since you’re working just up the street, maybe you could stop by…”
You caught the uncertainty in his voice and were quick to ease it. "Of course honey! I'll be right there."
Bucky wasn’t necessarily vain, but now you understood why he’d seemed so distant. Sometimes, just being human felt like the hardest thing in the world for him.
When you walked into the store you saw him holding the small piece of prescription paper in his hands, his facial expression changing as soon as he saw you. A shaky laugh escaped him as he greeted you with a hug and a kiss to the cheek.
“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?” you teased, no real accusation in your tone.
“Stupidly, yes,” Bucky admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just didn’t want you to think I was….”
“Human? A guy who needs glasses?” you cut in gently. “Bucky, I love you. Having four eyes isn’t going to change that.”
He let out a surprised snort, a real laugh, the kind that loosened the tightness he always carried in his chest. “Okay, okay, fair point. Now help me out. I have no clue what actually looks good on me.”
You walked along the shelves together, handing him different frames, adjusting them on his face, stepping back to assess. After a handful of questionable choices and shared giggles, you finally found the pair. Luckily, they could fit the lenses the same day, it would just take about twenty minutes.
Now you had time to spare.
“Do you actually want to grab lunch? We could go somewhere nearby and come back. I didn’t know how long you’d be able to stay.”
“I took the rest of the day off, I had to help someone I love through a very serious glasses emergency.”
You giggled, and Bucky felt warmth creep into his cheeks despite himself. "We can go to the noodle place you like? I know it's a bit away from here but we can wait for the glasses and go?"
You nodded, trying on some of the frames yourself and Bucky found it endearing, snapping a few photos of you before finally leaving.
Bucky kept the glasses on when you went to lunch. He wouldn’t say it yet, but you could tell he noticed the difference immediately. His depth perception wasn’t slightly off the way it usually was, and he didn’t have to squint at the menu. He’d ordered a few pairs of contact lenses too, though those wouldn’t be ready for a few days.
You, however, were having a problem of your own.
It wasn’t the food, the noodles here were always incredible but you couldn’t concentrate on a single bite. Bucky looked unfairly good in his glasses.
Distractingly handsome.
He’d been talking about Ducati motorcycles for at least ten minutes, animated and passionate, and you hadn’t absorbed a single word. Not one.
Finally, Bucky paused mid-sentence, catching your intense stare, the look in your eyes. Nervously, he wiped at his mouth, worried a stray bit of chili oil had dribbled on him. That little movement finally pulled you out of your daze.
A slow, confident smirk spread across his face as he met your eyes, the one you knew better than anyone.
“Doll, are my glasses doing it for you?” He blinked, almost disbelieving the words had actually left his mouth.
"Yes," you swallowed harshly, "I think we need to leave. Right now, or i'll fuck you on this table."
"You don't have to tell me twice" Bucky chuckled, leaving way more money than necessary on the table before rushing to follow you out.
Summary: Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.
note: In this universe Steve didn't leave, Tony doesn't know that the Winter Soldier killed his parents, and everything is relatively ok.
pairing: new avengers!bucky barnes x inexperienced fem!reader
word count: 4.7k
summary: Bucky can't deal with the constant state of chaos the Watchtower is always in, so he posts a job listing for an admin assistant - a babysitter for the New Avengers essentially. You were recently let go from your job and see an odd, vague job listing that piques your interest. What could go wrong?
warnings: swearing, objectification of bucky barnes, mentions of hydra, john teases bob, mentions of reader having curly hair & light complexion (a lot of blushing sorry), slight slow burn, fluff, eventual smut, vibrator mentioned once, no use of y/n (yet), probs heaps of grammatical errors, timeline inconsistencies no doubt, partly proofread, i suck at summaries
authors note: hi! first time writing a fic, kinda nervous! this has been an idea i've had for a while and since i'm currently unemployed i have time to write. this is more of an introductory chapter so might be boring to begin but i hope you like it anyway, this will most likely be 3 parts. please like, reblog, and comment <3
part 2 part 3
A loud curse and the sound of a body hitting the floor echoed throughout the kitchen, making it’s way to Bucky’s ears in the common room next door.
A groan escaped Alexei as he hauled himself up off the ground. “Who the fuck left water all over the goddamn floor!”
John casually leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen, unbothered by the older soldier’s red-faced anger. “Probably the same person who leaves empty toilet rolls in the bathroom.”
“Oh that reminds me, who’s doing the next grocery run? We need more toilet paper. And soap. And protein bars,” Bob cut in to the conversation from his spot sat at the kitchen island, aimlessly scrolling his phone with a cup of lukewarm coffee next to him.
“What, no we don’t! I just bought a few boxes a couple days ago,” this caught John’s attention as he walked over to the pantry, finding empty boxes and no protein bars. “What the fuck guys, those were mine! Who leaves empty boxes behind?!”
The men’s raised voices had reached the gym down the end of the hall, causing Yelena to see what all the commotion was about.
“Walker, that was stupid even for you. You should know to hide your snacks in your room,” Yelena drawled, her accent heavier after her strenuous workout. She didn’t bother telling him it was her that had left the empty boxes in the pantry.
“Like that would make a difference, I know you sneak into our rooms when we’re out,” Walker rolled his eyes at Yelena’s suggestion.
That had Bob sitting up straighter in his chair, disturbed by the invasion of privacy. “Wait, but like you don’t go through all our stuff right? Just obvious snack hiding places…?”
Yelena pouted at him, a little offended at his insinuation. “Don’t worry Bob, I only hunt for snacks—your private musings in your journal are still private.”
Bob went bright red as John snickered, his brows raising at the younger man. “Aw, you keep a diary Bobby? Where you write down all your thoughts and feelings?” Clearing his throat, John makes his voice slightly higher.
“Dear diary, Bucky benched me for today’s mission. It’s so unfair, why does he treat me like a child—“ John cut off with a gasp as Yelena punched his stomach.
“Knock it off Walker, or else next time I’m aiming for your throat.”
Back in the common room Bucky sat forward on the couch with his head in his hands, rubbing at his temples to try ease the oncoming headache from all the bickering. It had been like this for weeks, months even.
No one took responsibility for anything in the tower. Despite having a dishwasher dirty dishes still piled high in the sink, clean clothes covered the laundry floor as no one bothered to put them away, there was always a suspicious puddle of water somewhere in the tower, and the teams diet consisted of ramen and takeout. The tower resembled a frat house full of first years rather than a high-tech building full of enhanced adults.
Bucky tried to bring some order to the chaos a few weeks ago, but his chore chart was covered in phallic drawings before the week was done—Walker’s doing no doubt. Bucky was fairly certain himself and Bob were the only ones who did their chores that week.
They needed someone to keep them in line—to remind them when their washing was done, to tell them off when they tracked in blood and dirt from their missions, to make sure they didn’t run out of toilet paper and Walker’s goddamn protein bars. They needed a babysitter, essentially.
Ava watched from her spot on the armchair opposite Bucky as he let out a long ‘the world is on my shoulders’ sigh and slowly stood up.
“I need to make a call,” he muttered as he walked out of the room and towards the balcony—hoping the door will block out his fellow teammates noise.
Mel answered his call quickly, concern in her voice as Bucky never called her unless it was dire.
By the end of the day Bucky had received the all clear from Mel, but under strict terms that he had to deal with everything—the job posting, interviews, background checks, training.
Valentina had laughed when Mel told her about the New Avengers situation thinking it had to be an April fools joke. The big bad (former) Winter Soldier was asking for a budget to hire a babysitter? Val could already picture the taunting headlines—who would trust her if the team she oversaw had a babysitter. Mel saw it from a different perspective—what would happen if the team crumbled due to the lack of order, lack of accountability?
That would make Val look even worse, that she couldn’t even control the team she had ‘handpicked’. She quickly approved Bucky’s request, knowing it would prevent a bigger headache down the road.
————————
Your groan turned into a pained yelp as you kicked the dryer in frustration. This was the third time this week the dryers in your buildings laundry room refused to start. You were about to declare bankruptcy due to the money you wasted trying to dry your clothes.
You knew the apartment you moved into a month ago with your best friend was too good to be true. It was a two bedroom in the middle of Brooklyn that didn’t break your bank account—well it didn’t, until you started to use the laundry room. While having your own washer and dryer was a nonnegotiable for the both of you, the rental market in NYC thought otherwise. So, you had to suck it up and deal with sharing with the other residents in your building - something you were starting to regret.
Three months ago you had been let go from the design firm you had worked at for two years as the office administrator. You understood their decision to let you go—it was one they hadn’t made lightly, but cuts had to be made with the current economic climate and unfortunately you were the first to go.
One of your former coworkers was still in contact with you and had told you they were falling apart without you there. The coffee didn’t taste as good, someone’s dietary requirements were always forgotten in the weekly grocery shop, and meetings with important clients had been booked for the same time—a complete disaster.
Now you were just another unemployed twenty-something year old trying to survive in the city. Your savings account was looking less than healthy due to having to move apartments, and the current job listings were abysmal. You refused to work for a money hungry corporation like your friends did—the last few times you had coffee with them they were in tears telling you about how horribly they were treated. Yes, you needed a job but there was no way you were going to sacrifice your mental wellbeing to be a cog in a machine.
Returning back to your apartment with a basket full of wet clothes, you stepped out on the small balcony off your living room to hang your clothes to dry in the spring wind. Your friend had already left for her shift at the diner a few blocks over, meaning it was just you and your thoughts for the rest of the day.
You opened your laptop with a sigh, anticipating the disappointment you would inevitably feel due to the lack of suitable jobs in the area. You were proven right five minutes later when you had scrolled through three pages of listings and there was nothing that sparked joy.
Midway through the fourth page of scrolling something caught your eye.
Admin Assistant - Midtown Manhattan
Looking for a well-organised, patient individual who doesn’t scare easy and understands the important of confidentiality.
Day-to-day tasks involve basic housekeeping, managing schedules, stocktaking, and the occasional media liaising. Some late nights will be required.
Must be comfortable with people from all backgrounds, loud noises, and messiness.
First aid training is desirable.
Clean background check required.
Send in your cover letter and resume if you are interested.
Probably the most vague job listing you had seen yet, but something about it drew you in. There was no company name attached, no recruiters name mentioned, not even a rough salary bracket. Maybe that was the point? Maybe this was their way of filtering out less desirable applicants—not many people would be interested in an obscure job listing, maybe they only wanted brave (or desperate) people applying.
The mention of confidentiality, a clean background check, and first aid training screamed babysitting for New York’s elite to you. A job you had done in the past when you were a freshman in college and your parents made you fend for yourself. It wasn’t as bad as it seemed—sure the kids were a bit pretentious and the parents looked down their upturned noses at you, but it taught you a lot about real world expectations and how different people were behind closed doors.
During that job you had been approached by the media trying to get dirt on the prominent people you worked for but you stayed tight-lipped. No amount of offered money would make you betray your employers trust, even if you were treated like the dirt on their shoes most days. It was this loyalty that had stumped your current job search—you did not want to give your everything to a company that paid you minimum wage and forgot your name.
After another look at the tragic number in your bank account and a glass of red wine, you found yourself writing a cover letter for the vague job and double checking your resume.
————————
Bucky was not expecting the hundreds of applications he received for the job listing. Majority of them were quickly dismissed—some didn’t bother writing a cover letter, a dozen or so were riddled with spelling mistakes, and others were obviously written by AI (something Ava had to point out to him). Then there were the applicants who failed the background check within minutes. Why they even applied when the listing said clean background check baffled Bucky.
After exchanging emails with a handful of applicants over the week, Bucky had started conducting interviews. He made sure not to tell the team when they were happening - he wanted to throw the interviewees in the deep end and see how they adapted to the chaos that was the unsuspecting New Avengers.
As he expected, a few of the interviews ended early when faced with what the job really was—fielding a million questions from Alexei and Yelena, the startling event that was Ava phasing through the walls, and being around two perpetually grumpy super soldiers who could barely stand each other. Oh, and Bob’s nervous energy that seemed to bleed into every crack in the Watchtower. He could see how off-putting it was to the interviewees, behind their tense smiles and shaking hands he saw what they truly felt—fear.
He started to lose hope when the latest interview ended with the guy literally running out of the building at the sight of Yelena and John cleaning their bloody weapons on the kitchen island. Bucky had little time to dwell on it as the team—minus Bob—were called out for a mission to an old war Hydra bunker. While Hydra was barely a threat anymore, Val wanted them to grab intel from the bunker then destroy it. Little did they know, what was left of Hydra was waiting for them in an ambush.
Bruised and bloody, the New Avengers returned to the tower in silence. The three super soldiers were already healed by the time they returned, but Bucky still had that idiot Hydra soldiers words ringing in his head—the Winter Soldiers trigger words. Of course they didn’t work, the Dora Milaje had made sure of that, but Bucky was tired. Tired of being reminded of when those words had control over him. Tired of the Winter Soldier always being a part of him. He was grateful Yelena had attacked the soldier and killed him before Bucky got his hands on him, because he was sure he would’ve made him pay for all the hurt those words had caused in the past.
Yelena was leaning on Alexei’s side having injured her leg during the attack and Ava was nursing a concussion, a suspicious darkening spot on her abdomen that she refused to acknowledge. The team had been in much worse shape but the exhaustion in the elevator was thick, the air heavy with everything unsaid. Bucky sighed knowing his battle wasn’t over—he knew an argument was going to break out as soon as they got off on the common room floor.
As the elevator doors slid open they were all met with the unfamiliar sound of soft music trickling from the surround sound speakers. Exchanging hesitant looks with each other, they all put a hand on their side—where they all had a weapon hidden on them.
Slowly stepping out, Bucky’s enhanced sense of smell picked up on multiple aromas coming from the kitchen—first the smell of barbecued meat then the smell of something sweeter, a mix of chocolate and vanilla. He looked back to see Alexei and John sniffing the air as they noticed the different smells too.
Through the sound of the soft jazz, a chorus of giggles made it’s way to his ears. Definitely not Bob. No, this giggle was high-pitched compared to Bob’s laugh—which he had only heard a few times. It reminded him of a soft breeze blowing through wind chimes on a summers day. The sound held an innocent warmth that felt out of place in the Watchtower’s cold sterile halls.
Had he been captured? Was this some weird drug-induced dream concocted by Hydra? The tower never felt like this.
Yelena pushed past Bucky in his stunned state, limping her way around the corner to the kitchen.
“Bob, what’s going—oh, hello.” Yelena was stunned herself when she saw Bob wasn’t alone at the kitchen island.
Standing next to the oven in an apron that still had the tag on it was you—hair tied back with a few messy pieces framing your face, a bit of cocoa dust smeared on your cheek, and a gentle smile on your lips.
The rest of the team rounded the corner quickly at Yelena’s surprised greeting. They all stopped short at the sight of the kitchen island. Plates of food were neatly lined on the surface—beef patties, steaks, burger buns & fillings, an assortment of salads, bowls of pasta.
Now Bucky was sure he was dreaming. Where the fuck had all this food come from?
John’s rumbling stomach broke the stunned silence, causing him to skip introductions and grab a plate to load up on the mouthwatering food in front of them. His eagerness prompted you to step forward with a little wave as you introduced yourself.
“I hope I didn’t overstep—Bob mentioned you were coming back from a mission and I thought you guys might need more sustenance than the few packets of ramen in the pantry and stale leftovers in the fridge.” You twisted your hands together as you nervously rambled, feeling slightly intimidated by the battered and bruised Avengers in front of you. “There’s brownies in the oven—probably mediocre, I’m not a natural baker—they should be done in a few minutes.” You started to untie the apron around your waist, heat rising to your cheeks as everyone’s eyes settled on you.
“Don’t worry, I watched her cook everything—nothing’s been poisoned.” Bob tried to joke lightly, his attempt to take some of the attention off you. It was enough for Alexei and Ava to pick up their own plates and start assembling homemade burgers.
Yelena still watched you suspiciously, not sure who you were or what you were doing in the Watchtower.
Bucky had snapped out of his shock when you introduced yourself, recognising your name as one of the interviews he had scheduled that week. For that day. The interview he forgot to reschedule before heading out for the mission. The interview which would’ve started four hours ago, and you were still in the tower—with a nervous smile on your face and eyes hesitantly meeting his.
Pretty eyes, he thought.
He cleared his throat before his mind drifted more, rounding the corner and holding his right hand out for you to shake. “Bucky Barnes. My apologies for not rescheduling our interview, the mission was last minute.”
You gently shook his hand, noticing how much bigger it was than yours. You forced yourself to make eye contact with the man, his striking blue eyes rendering you speechless for a second. You took a breath to steel your nerves, “it’s no problem, really. Bob is good company and it was nice to help out a bit around the place.”
By this point Yelena had determined you weren’t a threat and was joining the others in demolishing the spread you had laid out. She snorted slightly at your comment about Bob being good company—his anxious demeanour typically scared people off.
Bucky let go of your hand and analysed what was left on the kitchen island, the rest of the team happily munching away. “Thank you for cooking all of this, I can’t remember the last time we had a proper meal.” He gave you a small smile, hoping you understood how truly grateful he was.
Feeling yourself getting flustered under Bucky’s attention, you tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear and turned to the sink to rinse dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Behind you, Yelena and Ava shared a knowing smile before they started to moan about how good the food was. You let out a breathy laugh at their compliments.
Bucky finally grabbed his own plate, his eyes flicking to you every few seconds. He wanted to tell you to stop cleaning up, that you had already done enough and they would take care of it. He knew they wouldn’t though.
He sat down next to Bob and let his eyes drift from you and take in the mess of the kitchen, well the lack of. Despite the mountain of food you made, the kitchen counters were practically clean—minus the baking dishes you were rinsing.
The dirty boots and weapons John had left in the corner near the common room door were gone, the paper towels had been restocked, and from a brief glance in the open pantry he could see the empty protein bar boxes had been replaced. What caught his eye the most was the fruit bowl on the counter next to where you were standing—it was full of plums. Huh.
He tried to be inconspicuous as his eyes trailed up and down your body. You were dressed differently to the other interviewees, not in a bad way but you looked more comfortable. The other women he interviewed wore tight pencil skirts, stiletto heels, and their straight hair had been slicked back without a strand out of place.
You opted for a more relaxed fit: black dress trousers, a loose fitting blouse with an embroidered pattern on the collar, a cable knit vest, Dr Marten Mary Janes, and your natural curly hair tied back loosely. Not overly professional, but does that matter when your potential boss rocks up covered in blood and dirt? Bucky didn’t seem to think so.
No, he was too focused on the curl that slipped from behind your hair, resting against your cheek that still had cocoa dust on it. He was stuck between wanting to wipe the dust off and twirling the curl around his finger. Maybe you would let him do both. Wait, what?
The timer on the oven went off, snapping Bucky out of his trance. You quickly put the oven mitts on, grabbing the tray from the oven and placing the brownies on the kitchen island to cool down.
John groaned aloud at the sight of the dessert. “It’s about damn time!” He exclaimed with his mouth full. He reached a hand over, going to grab a hot brownie before your mitt-free hand quickly shot out and smacked his hand away.
“Careful, they’re hot.” Everyone paused mid-bite as they waited for John’s reaction, all shocked that you had the guts to smack the former Captain America’s hand.
John didn’t seem to mind, his lips lifting in a cocky smirk. “Princess, I’m a super soldier. A little brownie burn isn’t gonna hurt me.”
You rolled your eyes at the man, huffing out a small laugh. “Right, I briefly forgot I’m in a room full of enhanced individuals.”
Everyone’s shoulders relaxed as they went back to enjoying their food, glad that they didn’t have to witness Walker losing his shit at you.
Bucky’s eyes lingered on you as you turned around to find a knife to cut the brownie with. No one else he interviewed would’ve dared to look John in the eye, let alone smack his hand. He felt something strange stir in his chest as you moved throughout the kitchen like you owned the place.
Bob leaned over towards Bucky, drawing his attention away from you. “For what it’s worth…I like her,” Bob whispered gently to the older man, an earnest look on his face.
After cutting the brownie in even slices for the team, you grabbed your bag you had slung over the empty chair next to Bob, not wanting to overstay your welcome.
“It was nice to meet you all—thank you for all you do, you know, saving the world and all that fun stuff. I should get going, enjoy the brownies—if they’re not good, feel free to blame Bob. Oh, and Ava? You should probably get that injury on your side looked at.” You awkwardly shuffled towards the door where you’re pretty sure is the direction to the elevator.
The team all quickly looked at Ava’s side seeing the dark patch of blood you were referring to. How had you seen what they completely missed?
You made it halfway towards the elevator doors when you heard Alexei in the kitchen behind you. “What are you doing, Barnes? Go after her—I want more steak dinners!” A collection of murmurs agreeing with him followed, making you smile to yourself.
Bucky jumped off his chair and made his way towards you, quietly chiding himself for not offering the job to you 10 minutes earlier. What is wrong with me today?
You turned around as you heard Bucky call your name, the burly man a few steps behind you.
Now that you had time to settle your frazzled nerves you were able to take in how truly attractive he was.
Soft dark brown locks framed his face, just reaching his shoulders. They made his steel blue eyes stand out, his intense gaze making you feel like the rest of the world had faded away. His stubble drew your attention to his slightly pouted pink lips. His pink, very kissable looking lips. God, he was tall and thick—being this close to him made you feel a lot smaller than you were used to. You knew who he was, his backstory. That he had the super soldier serum running through his veins. Serum that enhanced everything about him—he could probably hear how your heartbeat picked up at his proximity, hear how your breath hitched as you made eye contact. Serum that meant he could pick you up with no problem. It should be illegal to look as good as him.
You snapped out of your staring as he started to speak to you. “Be here Monday at 9:00. I’ll give you a proper tour of the tower and get your security clearance sorted.” With that, his eyes flicked up and down your body once before he turned back and joined the rest of his team in the kitchen.
You got in the elevator feeling like every single one of your nerves had lit up at him looking at you. Fuck.
————————
It took an hour for you to return to your Brooklyn apartment; an hour in which all your brain could think about was your new boss. Opening your front door you saw your best friend sitting on the couch, an episode of Survivor already lined up for you to watch together.
You collapsed face first into the couch next to her, groaning out “I got the job.”
“What?! That’s great!” She exclaimed, getting ready to hug you in congratulations before she froze as you continued groaning. “That is great, right? Why are you acting like you’ve just been told you have jury duty?”
Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, you blew a strand of hair out of your face as you made eye contact with her. “Yeah it is great, if having a criminally attractive super soldier as your boss is your definition of great.” You muttered, putting your face in your hands as you groaned some more.
That made her gasp, turning to you and sitting crossed leg as she usually does when two have gossip sessions. “No fucking way! Tell me everything now.”
With a bottle of wine shared between the two of you and Survivor playing in the background, you told her everything about your trip to the Watchtower.
“—Like I knew this was going to be a job dealing with New York’s elite or something, but I was not expecting the car—that they arranged, by the way—to drop me off at the goddamn Avengers tower! And then no one was there and I was like ‘this is definitely a prank’ but then Bob appeared and, honestly he’s such a misunderstood sweetheart, and he made me feel so at home—“
Halfway through the bottle of wine you finally got to the good part. “—And they were all just standing in the entrance to the kitchen staring at me—covered in blood and dirt, sizing me up—I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest. They are all insanely attractive—which, seriously, why are superheroes always so good-looking— and then he was staring at me and oh my god I felt like melting into a puddle.”
Your friend starting cackling at your wide eyes and flushed face, clearly taking delight in your torture. You reached over and slapped her arm in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please continue telling me how horrible your day was,” she continued laughing at you, not bothered by your light slap.
Your face once again ended up in your hands as you recounted just how hot you thought Bucky was. “His eyes are so fucking intense, bro. I thought he could see into my mind, which was a worry because all I could think about was how good his arms looked in his tactical gear. He’s massive, like his bicep was the size of my thigh. I don’t know how I’m going to function seeing him every goddamn day!” You flung your head back against the couch cushions, pouting over your predicament before filling up your glass again.
At some point during your rant, your friend had pulled out her phone and started googling Bucky Barnes. Her mouth dropped as she scrolled through the photos of him online—old ones from when he was in World War II alongside Steve Rogers, a couple of him as the Winter Soldier, and the more recent ones of him as a Congressman and New Avenger.
She met your wide-eyed stare with one of her own. “Man, I don’t know how your little virgin heart is going to handle being around him,” she looked back at her phone as she scrolled through more photos. “He looks like he talks you through it while ruining you for any other guy…better keep that vibrator of yours fully charged.”
Her comments were met with a cushion to the face, “shut up! I’m actively trying not to think about him that way—don’t put those thoughts in my head!” Your face was tomato red by now.
Taking pity on you, she put her phone away, moved the cushion aside and grabbed your hands in hers as she looked at you with a seriousness she rarely possesses. “You are well and truly fucked, my friend.”
pairing: undead knight!bucky barnes x healer!reader
warnings: 18+ NSFW, fantasy au, dark!bucky, sexual themes, dark themes, unrequited love, dry humping, premature ejaculation, blood and wounds, jealousy, possessive and obsessive behavior, inappropriate use of healing magic? -> bucky gets off while being healed
word count: 6.6k
main masterlist
a/n: very loosely inspired by the video game dark souls. you do not need to play that game to understand this fic. the story gets into darker territory near the end, so please tread carefully.
synopsis:
You perform the rite to awaken a soldier, a knight named Bucky Barnes, to link the fire to save a dying world and become a hero. But what happens when the soldier slowly gains consciousness and realizes he doesn’t want to be a hero, and would rather exist in the dark with you?
Bucky woke with a start, his lungs feeling as dry as sand and his eyes bloodshot. He blinked rapidly, struggling to adjust to the delicate, warm light emanating from the bonfire beside him. His body felt cold, almost frail; even his own heartbeat felt unfamiliar.
“W-what…?”
“Oh, Ashen One,” a soft voice drifted from the shadows.
His head snapped toward the sound.
You stood there, draped in a long, modest dress of charcoal colored fabric. Heavy wraps bound your arms and hands as if shielding a hidden wound, and a tattered mask obscured your eyes. Though the sight was haunting, the tenderness of your smile offered the slightest warmth.
“You are finally awake,” you murmured, kneeling beside him. “I feared you might never rise. How do you feel?”
As you reached out to check his temperature, he flinched, throwing up a hand between you—a desperate and weak attempt at self defense.
“Who are you?” he rasped.
You retracted your hand with a slight, knowing frown. It was to be expected, really. Every soldier you had summoned before him had shared this same fractured fear.
“I have no name,” you explained gently, resting your hands primly in your lap to show you meant no harm. “I am merely a woman who tends the flame that keeps our world alive.”
Keeps our world alive.
A thousand questions swirled through Bucky’s mind—thoughts that felt hauntingly familiar, yet entirely out of reach.
“You’re some sort of... Firekeeper?” he asked, his confusion deepening.
“Yes.” You nodded firmly. “Something of the sort.”
Bucky groaned, trying to sit up. His body strained under the weight of his armor. He looked down, taking in the intricate patterns of the steel and the cut of the dark fabric. He recognized the craftsmanship, yet he couldn’t put a finger on where he had seen it before.
“This… what am I?” He lifted a hand tiredly, staring at the etched iron of his gauntlet. “How did I—ugh.”
“Save your strength,” you reassured him, placing a gentle hand against his back. “You will need it soon. I am sure you have many questions.”
“Several,” Bucky muttered, bracing himself up and rubbing his throbbing head.
You let your hand fall back to your lap, your voice softening as you explained. “We live in a dying world, you and I. Outside these walls, the land is a hollowed grave. Beasts and monsters roam the streets, seeking to harvest souls to sate their own hunger. This keep is the only sanctuary left to us.”
Bucky furrowed his brow, dark, sweat dampened strands of hair falling over his blue eyes as he looked at you. “Then why would anyone ever want to leave?”
Your lips pulled into a small, weary frown. You had summoned several soldiers before him, and every time you delivered the next line, the result was the same— a cold blade pressed against your chest, or rough hands tightening around your throat.
You couldn’t truly blame the poor souls.
They were unwillingly pulled back from the grave into a world on the verge of total ruin. Their only purpose was to slay beasts and harvest souls—all to feed the very flame that kept the earth alive.
And in the end, the cycle demanded the ultimate sacrifice.
Themselves.
It was a cruel fate, but alas, you were the Firekeeper destined to bring the world back to life by any means.
Besides, the man before you was likely to be slain the very moment he stepped beyond these walls. It was only a matter of time before he fell, and you were forced to summon the next unfortunate soul to take his place.
“You see the flame there?” you gestured to the bonfire beside him, its light flickering weakly in his direction. “The fire is on its last life. If the flame is completely snuffed out, nothing but darkness will remain.”
You turned back to him. Though he couldn’t see your eyes through your mask, you looked directly into his. “That is why I summoned you, Ashen One. You are a soldier destined to fight the creatures, harvest their souls, and feed the flame to bring the world back to life. The flame chose you.”
You braced yourself, waiting for the devastating weight of your words to process in his already fragile mind. You expected him to lunge for your throat, as every soldier before him had done—toppling you to the cold stone and cursing you for dragging a soul who had finally found peace back into a life where they were better off dead.
But the attack never came.
He simply blinked, his gaze drifting as if something far more troubling was weighing on his mind.
“My name…” he uttered quietly. “Is James Buchanan Barnes. That much, I know.”
The breath that you released was one of part relief and shock.
Relief that his hands weren’t around your neck, and shock that he possessed such a rare fragment of himself. None of the others had remembered who they were—yet you had known every single one of their names.
“You… you know your name?”
“I do,” he confirmed, rubbing at his temple as if trying to grasp the rest of his distant memories. “But Bucky sounds familiar. It feels… more right.”
You swallowed hard. “Bucky it is, then,” you said, despite already knowing his name. You leaned in closer, trying to gauge his expression—if there was any at all—after the words you had sputtered. “Do you understand your duty, soldier?”
“If souls are so important,” he said, turning to face you, his armor rattling with every move. “Then why don’t you get them?”
You frowned, looking down weakly at your bandaged hands. “I have tried. But I am too weak, soldier. The most I can do is hunt the wolves outside these walls with a dull blade—it is enough to keep the flame alive, but only barely.”
You raised your head back to him.
“But there are monsters out there far greater than wolves. Monsters that carry souls vast enough to keep the fire burning for months. This is why you were brought to this world. The flame saw your potential—it deemed you a worthy knight and decided that you would be the one to save us from this unbecoming world.”
Bucky furrowed his brows.
Despite the commands you were making of him, his body felt too weak to even move. He had only just been summoned into this world—how was he expected to fight off monsters to save it?
“I understand it may seem like a lot to you now,” you spoke, your voice growing softer and more gentle. “But for now, allow yourself to rest, soldier. When you awaken, there will be a blade ready for you to begin your journey.”
By the time Bucky woke again, his muscles felt livelier than they had during his first awakening. He felt almost completely healed—both mentally and physically. It felt as though he had been asleep longer than he had been back on this earth, and when his eyes opened fully, he found you sitting right beside him.
“You’re still here, maiden?”
“Of course,” you said softly. “Where else would I be?”
You had been waiting with him this entire time?
For a man who hardly recognized his own heartbeat, he felt something indistinguishable stir in his chest. It was a fond feeling, one he didn’t quite understand, but he knew he felt comforted knowing he wasn’t left entirely alone in this dark world.
Bucky raised his head to look at you, and his heart fluttered. Seeing you there once more—knowing you had stayed by his side for God knows how long—made him feel a sudden sharp attachment to your presence.
“I thought you would have gone to tend the flame,” he admitted, his voice still raspy but stronger than it had been. “Or that you’d be... somewhere else.”
“There is nowhere else,” you replied. “A Firekeeper’s purpose is bound to her champion. As long as you remain here, so shall I.”
“Champion?” Bucky huffed a tired, self-deprecating laugh. “That’s a heavy title for a man who hasn’t fetched you a single soul yet.”
A small, gentle chuckle escaped your lips—the sound only making the warmth in Bucky’s chest grow. It seemed that even you could possess a sense of humor.
“Oh, I suspect that will change very soon,” you added, a trace of a smile lingering.
To your side, you strained to lift a heavy blade, moving to offer it to him. Bucky tilted his head, his brow furrowing as he watched you.
Without thinking, he reached out and took the sword from your hands with ease.
His heart pulsed in his chest when he saw the relief in your shoulders, and from there, he never wanted to see you struggle again.
It was a longsword, its crossguard etched with the same weathered, ancient patterns that adorned his own armor. As his fingers closed around the hilt, the metal felt familiar, as if it had been waiting for his touch.
“There are several monsters lurking around the perimeter,” you explained, watching as Bucky examined the carvings on the sword. “You can test your strength by slaying them first. Every time you are hurt, or you feel you cannot carry on, you can come back to me. I will take care of you.”
Bucky blinked at you, that strange fondness in his heart growing even deeper. “You’ll… take care of me?”
You nodded firmly. “Always.”
There was a sense that washed over Bucky every time you spoke. Your voice was gentle and reassuring, and despite being pulled back into a world that had little to no hope for resurrection, he felt better knowing that, at the very least, you would be there with him in the darkness.
As long as you remain here, so shall I.
Your words echoed in his mind like a peaceful reminder. They stayed with him, giving him the courage he needed to finally turn away from the fire and step outside the safety of the walls and into the lion’s den.
Bucky moved through the gray, ashen landscape with determination. Every time his blade met the flesh of a hollowed monster, his muscles reacted before his mind could even process them as a threat. It was as if he was moving on muscle memory.
The more souls he gathered—wisps of cold, pale light in his pockets—the more his confidence grew. He found himself wondering about the man he used to be. Had he been a knight of renown? A commander? The way he moved suggests he wasn’t just a soldier, but a weapon.
He had hoped, that in his previous life, he had been a good man.
And he also wondered, if in his previous life, he had someone who cared about him the way you did.
Thinking of you sitting by the bonfire, waiting for his return, filled him with a feeling he couldn’t quite name. All he knew was that his heart felt far too large for his chest, thumping faster with every thought of you.
Souls were important to you, and he wanted to bring back enough to keep you happy. He wanted to see that gentle smile again.
Fueled by that warmth, Bucky ventured further than he should have. He pushed past the perimeter you told him to stay in, and into the crumbling ruins of a high wall, where the monsters were larger and faster.
The fights were costly—he barely managed to take down an undead knight, but the victory came at a price.
His breathing was labored, his armor was dented, and deep gashes along his ribs and thigh wept blood everywhere. Exhaustion finally dragged his heels back toward the faint, golden glow of the keep— to the place where you stayed, where you had promised to take care of him.
When he finally stumbled back into the shrine, his sword slipped from a weak grip, clattering against the stone. He was just about to collapse to his knees when you ran to his side, catching him before he hit the floor.
“Bucky!”
His strength had vanished the moment he felt your touch, and Bucky slumped against you, his heavy armor and weight dragging you both down. You slid down the cold stone wall together until you both found the floor.
Gently, you adjusted him, guiding his head to rest against the soft curve of your chest. He let out a long, shuddering sigh, his eyes fluttering shut as your scent filled his senses.
You placed your bandaged hands over his deepest wounds, and a soft, golden light began to emit beneath your palms.
“Just try to stay still,” you soothed. “I’ll take care of you.”
As the magic seeped into his skin, Bucky’s entire body shook, then went slack. It wasn’t just the absence of pain your magic was giving him. It was the flood of pure, overwhelming sensation.
The healing felt like liquid sunlight pouring into his veins—a warmth so intense it made his body hum with a pleasure he didn’t know he was capable of craving. A soft, helpless whimper escaped him as the magic worked.
“God…” he rasped weakly against your chest.
Dazed and intoxicated by the feeling, his hands began to roam. His fingers, still stained with ash and blood, hooked into the fabric of your dress, pulling you closer and closer. He pressed into your softness shamelessly, his face hiding in the curve of your neck as he moaned quietly, lost to the heat.
“Is this hurting you?” you questioned, one hand coming up to push the damp, dark strands of hair out of his face to see him better.
His eyes remained fluttered shut, his face flushed. His hands wandered up your arms, desperate and searching as his hands mapped your curves. He squeezed and clung to you, his leg tangling with yours.
“So warm…” he mumbled, his words slurred with a hazy bliss. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t. It feels too good.”
Your breath hitched when you felt Bucky’s hips rock against your leg.
The sensations coursing through him were too much to comprehend. The magic made him feel alive, but it was also your body—soft and inviting—that fed the tightening ache building in his groin.
He kept rocking his hips, seeking some sort of pleasure, some sort of release.
“Bucky,” you stroked his hair, but the touch only seemed to spur him on. “Are you alright?”
Bucky only babbled incoherently against your chest, his hips rocking uncontrollably as he squeezed you tighter, making you gasp—not even realizing he was hurting you.
All he knew was that he needed something warm. Something tight and wet to sink himself into—something he could grab and toss around for his own pleasure.
Anything to free him from this painful, tightening ache between his legs.
“There, there,” you cooed gently, your soft hands lacing through the sweaty strands of his hair.
Bucky’s eyes fluttered open, lost in a haze of lust, as he looked up at you. You looked down at him, and his eyes could only stare at your lips—soft, plump, and inviting.
They looked small too, probably tight. Tight enough.
It was exactly what he needed to feel good.
“I…”
“You’re all healed up now,” you interrupted suddenly. You rose slowly to your feet, leaving him there on the cold floor to collect himself.
His face burned with embarrassment as his heart thumped wildly in his chest. He wanted to grab you, to pin you back down so he was the one on top this time, and use you for his own pleasure. You had promised to take care of him—and sure, the physical pain had left his body long ago, but what about the hot, throbbing ache that still remained?
It made him feel restless.
Even he knew that magic wouldn’t be able to heal this kind of hurt.
You turned back to him, extending your palm as he gazed up at you from the floor.
It would be so easy to grab your hand and do it—he was much stronger than you, that much he knew. He could sink into your tight heat right now, and use you until you cried—
“The souls, Ashen One.”
“… Huh?”
You frowned slightly. “You went hunting for souls, did you not?”
Bucky looked at your open palm, then back at your face, feeling like a fool. He had been imagining ruining you with dark, carnal thoughts flooding his filthy mind, while you were simply waiting for him to fulfill the very purpose he had been resurrected for.
Shaky hands reached for the leather pouch at his belt. His fingers felt clumsy as he untied the drawstring.
“I… yes. I have them,” he muttered.
He poured the souls into your hand. They flowed like liquid starlight as they glowed a soft, ghostly blue against your skin.
“Is it enough?” he asked, watching the way the light reflected in the silver of your mask.
You tilted your head, inspecting the haul. He found himself wishing you would look at him with that much care instead.
“It is more than enough to stoke the flame for another week, Bucky. You did well,” you praised with a small smile.
You began to turn away toward the bonfire, but Bucky reached out, his fingers catching the hem of your dress.
“Wait,” he rasped.
You paused, looking back over your shoulder. “Is there something else you need, soldier?”
Bucky swallowed hard and looked down at his lap, not knowing how to explain the prominent bulge pressing against his trousers where they were free of armor. He pressed a palm over his length, trying to will the throb away.
“Are you still in pain?” you asked, noting the grimace on his face.
“It’s not painful,” Bucky grunted, continuing to palm himself, oblivious to the shame of the gesture. “It… it feels suffocating. Hot and throbbing. Like… I need—”
“Rest, perhaps?” you suggested, completely clueless to his circumstance. “It’s been a long day, soldier. Rest now, and when you feel better, you can hunt for more souls.”
You walked back toward the fire, leaving Bucky on the floor with a frustration he couldn’t quite name.
He grit his teeth, watching with a growing erection as you tended to the flame with such gentle touch.
He knew you were saving the world with the souls he gave you, but god, did he want that loving attention focused on him instead. He wanted your hands all over his body instead.
He wanted you nowhere near that damned fire—he wanted you beneath him.
He was hungry, but not for food.
He was hungry for you.
Since then, he did exactly what you expected of him.
He ventured further out, fought monsters and beasts, and returned with more souls than any soldier before him ever had. He grew stronger with each battle, his movements becoming more lethal and precise.
But in return, he came back to the shrine bloodier and more battered than ever.
In your eyes, you believed the flame had chosen correctly. It had finally selected a champion who could bring about the world’s resurrection and peace. You felt that everything you had lived for—every century of waiting—would finally be put to rest.
But for Bucky, the world was an afterthought.
All he looked forward to was being in your arms after every grueling battle. He relished the moments when he was nestled against your chest, your magic washing over his body with a gentle, intoxicating calm. He lived for the pleasure that came with your touch—a pleasure he craved more than the victory itself.
It was like a drug he couldn’t escape from.
The latest gift he brought you was the soul of a Greatwood—a large mass of light dropped at your feet before his knees finally gave out.
Stripped of his heavy armor, he looked raw and vulnerable as blood trickled down his face, matting his dark hair in copper scented clumps and sweat. The blood loss left him shivering, and you didn't hesitate to pull him into the sanctuary of your lap, cradling his head against you.
Over the last few days, you had noticed Bucky becoming dangerously imprudent in his battles.
He pushed himself to the very brink of death, and every time you were there to mend the damage, he grew bolder with his whimpers and his touch.
“You’re becoming reckless, Bucky,” you murmured. Your hands hovered over his mangled chest as you began to heal him.
A broken moan escaped his lips—not of pain, but of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
Your magic turned the agony of his wounds into a searing, sexual heat that flooded his entire nervous system. His hands, caked in dried blood and dirt, clawed at your thighs, bunching the fabric of your dress in his fists possessively as the pleasure took over his body.
“Ah… God, yes,” Bucky choked out, his hips jerking upward in a desperate search for friction against your leg.
The soldiers who came before him had never harbored such a visceral reaction to your magic, but Bucky had been unraveling this way for a while now. You were no longer oblivious to the bulge he pressed against you every time he was in your arms.
Bucky’s hands trailed upward, sliding underneath the fabric of your skirt to give your bottom a firm squeeze. He pulled your body flush against him, grounding his hips into your thigh with a needy motion.
“Stay still, Bucky,” you tried to command, though your voice was shaky. “I’m almost finished.”
“Fuck,” Bucky growled, his hands tightening around your body harsh enough that made a small whimper escape your lips. “I’m almost finished, too—”
As the golden light continued to flare from your palms, Bucky’s hips moved faster, grinding harder against your leg and forcing your body into a rhythm with his. He hiked your dress up, exposing your bare thigh to the cool air of the shrine, his breathing turning into a series of heavy hitches as he pressed himself further between your legs.
You were warm—so warm, and he was painfully aware that the very thing his body was screaming for was only guarded by a flimsy layer of fabric.
He knew he could tear it open with his bare hands in a heartbeat.
The urge to be cruel was right there, lurking in the dark corners of his mind. He wanted to pin you down, sink into you, to make you cry out and whimper beneath him as he took what he wanted.
But he couldn’t—not to you.
Not yet, at least.
“Just a little longer, soldier,” you reassured him gently, your hands hovering over his remaining injuries. “You’re doing so well—”
But before you could offer another word, Bucky lifted his head up. His hands tangled in the hair at the back of your head, tilting your face back as his mouth crashed against yours.
It was a kiss—though you weren’t sure if you could truly call it that.
The soldiers who came before Bucky had shared kisses with you, but none of them were like this.
Those had been soft, gentle, and reverent. Bucky’s was possessive and claiming. His grip on your body was tight, his fingers buried so roughly in your hair to pin you in place that if you had moved even slightly, you would have winced.
A small mewl left your lips when he groped your breast through your dress. Emboldened by your sweet noises, Bucky nestled himself between your thighs, the hard bulge of his cock finding the heat hidden beneath your thin fabric.
He ground his hips directly against your cunt, the curve of your covered slit felt like the most incredible thing he had ever felt.
“Bucky…” you whimpered.
“I’ve been thinking about this every time I’m out there bleeding for you,” he groaned against your lips.
He rocked his hips into you, crowding you back against the cold stone wall.
“I bet you’re so tight under that dress,” he muttered between messy, sloppy kisses. His hand slid down to squeeze your hip, pulling you flush against the pulsing outline of his cock. “I bet you’d scream if I finally got inside you. You’d cry for me, wouldn’t you? But I know you’d take it all for your champion.”
You weren’t quite sure what was happening to him.
The soldiers of the past had never reacted to your healing in such a way. But you were bound by your oath to mend your soldier, so you kept your palms pressed to his skin and allowed him to find his pleasure in your body.
“Just a moment,” you spoke softly. “Try to hold still.”
“Am I…” He breathed hard, looking into your eyes with his own, hazy and dazed. “Am I doing good?”
“Very good,” you praised. “The best I’ve ever seen.”
“I need you to swear it to me,” Bucky’s voice broke, desperate for your approval. “Tell me you really mean it.”
"I promise, Bucky.”
The light of your magic grew brighter, and Bucky let out a hungry growl that vibrated in his throat as he closed the distance between your mouths again.
His body continued to move hungrily against yours, his fingers digging into your hair. The fabric straining against his hard length darkened with damp patches of pre-cum, making a mess of himself as he ground against you.
It felt good—too good, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop.
Bucky kept going, his hips stuttering and moving unevenly against your thigh before a broken moan left his lips.
“My god…” he groaned weakly.
His cock twitched violently in his pants, releasing a warm, thick spurts of cum as it pulsed out of his cockhead—the sensation making his face and body burn hot. His eyes, half lidded and dazed, stared down at the wet patch in his trousers that grew until it made your own thigh feel sticky.
He was panting, his chest heaving against yours, his sweat cooling in the drafty shrine.
Bucky was still high on the sensation, the magic and the pleasure blurring into one strong, overwhelming sense of euphoria—and in that haze, his mental strength vanished in an instant.
“I love you,” he blurted out suddenly.
The words echoed softly against the stone walls. He pulled back just slightly, his eyes blown wide and glassy, looking at your silver mask with desperation—as if he were waiting for you to say it back.
“I love you,” he repeated, his voice cracking as if you didn’t hear him the first time. “I think... I think I’ve loved you since the moment I first reopened my eyes. Everything I do out there... the blood I shed, the souls I obtain... it’s all so I can come back to this. So I can come back to you.”
The silence in the shrine was suffocating, the tension broken only by the crackle of the embers.
You weren’t supposed to feel. You were a vessel, a caretaker of the flame, yet the broken rasp in his voice made your heart stutter.
Gently, you reached up, your bandaged fingers brushing the dark hair away from his damp forehead.
“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice soft and careful. “I… I care for you deeply. More than I have ever cared for any soldier who was brought back to life.”
Bucky leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering at your warmth. He was listening—waiting for the very three words that would change everything, the words he had just bled for.
“In this dark world,” you continued, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw, “you are the only light I have. I find myself waiting for the sound of your footsteps long before you arrive. I care for you just as much as you care for me, soldier.”
Bucky let out a long, shaky breath. He wasn’t entirely satisfied, and he feared he wouldn’t be until you told him you loved him back—until you gave yourself to him completely with your mind, body, and soul. But for now, he let himself bask in the warmth of your body, his hands squeezing your hip tight enough to remind you that regardless of what you said, you would always be his.
“Everything I do…” he breathed shakily, “I do for you. Only for you.”
Determined to please you, Bucky remained in a constant, grueling battle against the undead. He hunted every soul—big or small—with a singular focus: you.
He believed that by relinquishing the beasts and returning their power to you, you would finally restore the world. He fought for the dream of a sanctuary where you both could live long, healthy lives.
Together.
When he finally felled the greatest beast of all and returned to the shrine, he was more bloodied and broken than he had ever been. He collapsed to his knees, the leather pouch at his belt spilling over as wispy, powerful souls poured out onto the stone floor. Through dazed and blurry eyes, he saw your frame rushing toward him in a panic.
“I… have returned—” he managed with a broken rasp.
As he extended a shaking hand to reach for you, you dove past his reach, ignoring his outstretched fingers to grab the souls that were scattering across the floor.
You gathered the shimmering light into your arms, clutching them to your chest.
“My God!” you said, breathless. “You’ve felled the Lord of Cinder? You’ve actually done it!”
The light from the souls pulsed and glowed in your hands. As you fed the essence of the Lord of Cinder into the bonfire, the flames roared a bright gold, casting long, dancing shadows against the ancient stone.
You were radiant, your face warm with glee, wearing the brightest smile Bucky had ever seen.
“The ritual is almost over,” you whispered with joy. “At last… the dark is receding. At last, we have enough.”
On the floor, Bucky was a wreck of broken armor and torn flesh. His vision swam as he felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness. He tried to drag himself towards you, his fingers scraping uselessly against the cold floor.
“I need... your care.. my maiden—” he choked out, his voice pathetic and weak.
He was reaching for the sanctuary of your lap, waiting for your drug like bliss to stitch him back together.
But you didn’t look at his wounds. You didn’t reach for his head to cradle it.
You instead grabbed his hand and helped him to his feet, dragging his exhausted body toward the edge of the roaring bonfire.
“Come, Bucky! Look!” you cried, ignoring the way his knees buckled and how his weight slumped against you. “We’ve just about saved the world—we’re so close.”
He looked at you with a dazed, almost dreamy expression. Was this truly his salvation? Had he finally saved the world to exist in a new one with you? Could he finally become your lover, and you his?
“Now, we just need the last step,” you said, turning to him.
Your hands lifted to your mask, removing it.
Finally, he got to see your face fully.
Your eyes were the most beautiful things he had ever seen, making his heart clench painfully in his chest. They were bright, shining with hope. This was it—everything he had fought for.
Then, you continued to speak.
“The ultimate sacrifice. The soul of the champion must be returned to the source to truly seal the age.”
Bucky froze.
“What?” he rasped, not quite understanding. “But you… you said you cared for me. You promised to take care of me.”
“I am,” you replied gently, your hands finding his face—not to soothe him, but to guide him backward toward the center of the bonfire. “I’m giving your life meaning, Bucky.”
Bucky couldn’t believe it. He refused to believe it.
All along, after all the blood, sweat, and tears he poured into every fight—all just to make you happy—the very end meant he had to sacrifice himself?
But what about everything you told him? All the words you spoke—telling him you cared about him? The times you held him in your arms while he came undone from just your touch and magic alone? The kisses you shared?
Was it all for nothing? Was he just a lamb being fattened for the slaughter?
Bucky’s breathing grew labored and his heart began to race uncontrollably. He didn’t know what to name this feeling—was it anger? Sadness? Or insanity? He looked at your beautiful, smiling face, and for the first time, it didn’t look like salvation. It looked like a trap.
Whatever the emotion was, it led to him finding the hilt of his sword, sheathed at his side. His fingers curled around the grip, the cold metal a sharp contrast to the blistering heat of the fire behind him.
“You lied to me,” Bucky rasped, his voice so low you didn’t catch it.
You tilted your head, your fingers still resting over his cheek as if he were nothing more than a wounded animal you were trying to calm.
“What do you mean, soldier?” you asked softly. That sweetness Bucky once loved now felt haunting—hollow. “Everything is going exactly as it should.”
A low, animalistic snarl escaped Bucky’s lips as his fingers tightened around the hilt. Adrenaline, fueled by pure hate and betrayal, flooded through his veins. He lunged forward, his hand shooting out to seize your shoulder while his other hand ripped the sword from its sheath.
The ring of steel echoed through the shrine as he tackled you, the force pinning you hard against the stone floor.
You let out a sharp, startled gasp as the back of your head hit the ground, and before you could cry out, the cold blade was pressed firmly against your throat.
Bucky’s heavy body hovered over yours, his chest heaving with ragged breaths as his dark hair fell over his eyes. He stared down at your face, the face he had been worshipping all this time, with nothing but anger.
“You used me,” he seethed. “You used me—just as you did with the soldier before me, and the one before that, haven’t you?”
He didn’t even give you the chance to respond. He pressed the blade closer against your neck, forcing you to strain your head back in a desperate gasp.
“Bucky, please—”
“You held them in your arms—you kissed and touched them the way you did with me, isn’t that right?” he growled, leaning in even closer until his hot breath fanned over your lips.
His hand roughly grabbed your cheeks, forcing you to look him in the eye as the skin of your neck strained against the sharp edge of the blade.
“Do you even remember their fucking names?”
“Of course I do!” you gasped desperately, tears pricking your eyes. “Rogers, Wilson, Walker—I remember all of them—!”
“I should kill you,” he claimed, his hot, heavy pants ghosting over your face. “I should slit your throat right here—make you cry and bleed all pretty for me.”
“Bucky, please, you have to understand—” you choked out, searching his eyes for even a flicker of hope. “This is how the ritual must go. The soldiers before you... they were all weak. They weren’t as strong as you. They passed before they ever reached the final sacrifice.”
You swallowed hard, trying to choose your words carefully as you felt Bucky’s grip tighten around the hilt.
You couldn’t believe it. You had truly thought he was different from the rest. You never expected him to turn around and pull his blade on you like the other soldiers had when they were first summoned.
“In order for the world to even have a chance of revival—what’s dead must stay dead,” you strained, a single tear streaming from the corner of your eye and splashing onto the stone floor. “And that includes you, James.”
Bucky grimaced when you said his first name, and even more so as he tried to process your words. You could see the conflict behind his eyes—the way he tried to believe you. For a second, a quick flicker of understanding passed through those cold, cruel eyes.
But it vanished just as quickly as he pressed the blade even deeper, drawing a thin trickle of blood from your neck.
“Tell me you love me.”
You remained quiet, trying to compose your breathing as you felt blood trickle down the side of your neck.
“Say it!” Bucky roared.
His shout was like an explosion that echoed off the ancient stone walls, vibrating through your very bones.
You believed that telling him what he wanted to hear would not only spare your life—but that a part of him would relish the admission, finally giving him the peace he needed to take that last step and sacrifice himself.
You sucked in a sharp, shallow breath, your voice coming out shaky and thin against the steel.
“I love you.”
Bucky’s body began to shake, the steel pressing harder against your skin. He grimaced at the sight of your pain, as if hurting you only hurt him more, yet he didn’t pull back.
“I don’t believe you,” he rasped. He searched your face, hunting for the lie he knew was there, even as his eyes pleaded for it to be true. “You’re just saying it so I’ll die for you. You’re just saying it to save your own.”
Your heart raced as panic flooded through you. You had to make him believe—if he didn’t go into the fire, the world would end in nothing but ash and silence. You reached up, your palms framing his face, and tried your best to ignore the sting of the blade.
“I love you!” you cried out desperately. “I’ve loved you since the moment you came back to me. Please, James, believe me. I love you more than anything.”
You watched him intently, and for a long, breathless moment, Bucky went still. A small, disbelieving smile graced his lips.
You should have felt relief. You should have seen it as a sign that you were finally getting through to him. But there was something twisted about the way he was looking at you now—a dark, possessive spark that only filled you with a deeper unease.
He leaned down, his forehead pressing against yours, his warm breath interlacing with your own.
“Good,” he whispered, the blade still biting into your skin as his lips tickled yours. “If you love me that much, if I’m truly the only light you have… then we’ll let the world burn.”
Your eyes widened in horror as you realized your mistake.
“The ritual—”
“Damn the ritual,” he hissed.
His hand slid from your cheek to tangle firmly in your hair, pinning you harder against the stone as the bonfire behind him began to flicker, starved of its champion.
“If I don’t get to live to have you, then nothing gets to live at all.”
dark souls is my favorite game of all time, and i wanted to write a quick fic based on it. this is a little different from my usual style, but i hope you guys like it <3
if you’ve gotten this far, as always, thank you so much for taking the time to read my work.
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Summary: Torn between his instinct to protect his family and his desire to be a part of their lives, Bucky tries to deal with the reality of his ex-wife going on a date while he stays home caring for their son.
Word Count: 8.8k.
He was late. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was doing it on purpose. Bucky had agreed to watch their son tonight so she could go on a date, the third one since their divorce two years ago. The last couple of times, she’d managed to find a friend to babysit, but Saturday nights were always tough. So in the end, she had no choice but to come clean and ask Bucky.
She could still hear his voice from that awkward phone call, still feel his surprised tone when she’d told him she had plans.
“A date?” he repeated, the edge of disbelief was hard to miss.
"Yeah," she’d replied casually, but Bucky’s silence stretched longer than usual. He hated texting, so phone calls had become their norm, even for the smallest of things.
“With whom?” His attempt to sound nonchalant fell flat, the tension was evident, threading through every word.
“Chris,” she said, keeping her tone light, “You know, the music teacher at the kindergarten where I work? Blonde, easy smile... we walked past him once when he was out with his dog, Dodger.”
Bucky scoffed, and the bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. “I knew it. I knew he had a thing for you.”
She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Oh, please.”
“Every time I’d drop by the kindergarten, he’d just- his eyes followed you the whole time like he couldn’t look away. People don’t stare like that unless they’re thinking about something. And the way he’d smile, he was trying too hard to be just a ‘friendly co-worker.” His voice had dropped a notch, as his irritation kept creeping in.
“Are you serious?” she shot back, incredulous. But Bucky wasn’t done.
“How long’s this been going on?” The question came out more like an accusation.
“It’s our first date. You know I only recently started dating again,” she replied, patience wearing thin.
He paused, clearly unsatisfied. “So what, he’s just been waiting for his chance, ready to pounce-”
“I’m going to stop you right there, James,” she interrupted firmly. “You’re not entitled to know anything about my love life the moment you decided you wanted the divorce.”
There was an uncomfortable silence on the line. She could hear him breathing, and the tension stretched between them until finally, he sighed.
“You’re right,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, that was out of line. I’ll take care of Benjamin on Saturday night.”
The recall of the conversation was interrupted by Ben, who wanted to show her what he did with his Legos.
Bucky had been sitting in front of the house for half an hour now. Sometimes, like tonight, he regretted what he’d done, but deep down, he knew it had been necessary. After the terrifying incident when Hydra agents attempted to kidnap their son, hoping to test if any of the serum’s powers had been passed down genetically, he realized that his past would eventually catch up with them. He had to make sure they were safe, even if it meant tearing apart everything they’d built.
He knew she wouldn’t understand if he told her the truth. If he had laid out his fears and his guilt and spiraled into a self-deprecating parade like he always did, she would have fought him and convinced him to stay. So he waited.
He knew the only way to make her believe it was to weave in just enough truth to his argument, so slowly he began pulling away, setting the stage for what would be his ultimate break. Late nights, distant conversations, an almost non-existent sexual life, and missed moments with their son, all led to this. He needed her to see that the life they had wasn’t something he could carry anymore.
When the moment came, he didn’t hesitate. He told her he felt suffocated by their life together. That the roles of husband and father were more than he could bear after everything he had been through. She didn’t believe him at first, and he could see the determination in her eyes, the will to fight for what they had.
So, he played the card he knew would make her stop fighting him. He spoke of the years he’d spent as a puppet, how he had never truly known freedom, never had control over his life. He appreciated everything she had done for him, all the love and support she had given, but it wasn’t enough. He needed air, space to figure out who he was beyond the roles he had been forced into. He made it sound like staying with her, staying in the family they’d built, was just another form of captivity.
It crushed her. Bucky could see the moment her resistance faded. She believed him, not because she wanted to, but because he made it seem so real. So she stood there, heartbroken, but unable to argue against the logic he’d presented.
The first months after the divorce were hard on both parts. For her, that time was the hardest, filled with sleepless nights and the nagging feeling that Bucky had simply abandoned her, walked away from their life, their love, without a second thought. She wrestled with the confusion and the heartbreak, trying to piece together where things had gone wrong. For Bucky, it was a different kind of suffering. He bore the weight of his decision in silence, knowing he had walked away to protect them, but that didn’t ease the sting of loneliness or the guilt that clawed at him almost every day.
Their lives moved on separately. They saw each other only in passing, and even that was rare. Bucky would pick up Benjamin directly from daycare once a week, dropping him off the next morning before heading back to his life, careful to avoid lingering long enough for awkward conversations. Sometimes he didn’t make it at all, missing his time with his son when missions pulled him away. Immersing himself in his work was easier than facing what he had left behind, the family he still wanted but couldn’t allow himself to have. Meanwhile, she did her best to create some normalcy for Benjamin, even as the space Bucky left behind echoed through their small home.
Even though their lives had drifted apart, Bucky never truly let go. He kept his distance, but never far enough to lose sight of them. Unbeknownst to her, he knew everything that went on in the household, the daily rhythms of their life, the way she struggled and adapted to her new normal without him. From the shadows, Bucky lurked unnoticed in the neighborhood, always keeping an eye on them. She never noticed, never had a clue that even when he was away on missions, he somehow knew when Benjamin caught a cold or when she had a rough day at work.
It was a secret vigil that gave him a twisted sense of comfort, knowing they were safe even if they no longer shared the same home. He would catch fleeting glimpses of her tucking their son into bed or hear his faint laughter playing in the yard. It was enough to remind him of what he’d lost, but not enough to bring him back to the life he believed he couldn’t have.
That was why Bucky was caught off guard when she mentioned her date with that guy, the music teacher. He never saw that coming. He had always known the man had a soft spot for her, could see it in the way he acted whenever she was around, how he lingered a little longer during pick-ups at the kindergarten, helping to manage the children even if it wasn’t his job, always with an excuse to retain her and talk. His body language was an open book. But back then, Bucky had dismissed him as harmless, barely giving him a second thought. To him, Chris had always been like a friendly Labrador: approachable, with no bite. A non-threat.
But now, that harmless Labrador had grown fangs. The guy wasn’t just hanging around the edges anymore; he was stepping in, taking her to dinner, moving into a space Bucky had once occupied. And he had no choice but to suck it up and watch it happen, watch her walk out the door with him. He could handle the distance, the brief moments of tension when they had to interact, but this? The idea of Chris sitting across from her at a candlelit table, making her laugh, holding her gaze... it twisted his guts.
And God knows what else would happen after dinner. Would Chris try to kiss her goodnight? Would she let him? Or worse, would they end up back at his place? His mind ran wild with the possibility of them taking things further, crossing a line he never wanted to imagine. Would she let him touch her in ways Bucky used to, let him see sides of her only he had known? He knew he had no right to feel this way, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from torturing him.
Eventually, he glanced at the clock and sighed, raking a hand through his hair. There was no point in torturing himself any further, he couldn’t postpone the inevitable any longer.
Reaching the front porch, Bucky hesitated for a moment. He straightened his posture, adjusting his clothes, then knocked on the door. As he waited, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to shake off the tension.
When the door finally swung open, for a split second, neither of them spoke. Her eyes widened just a little, and her lips parted as she took him in. It had been a long time since she’d seen him. His hair had grown back to shoulder length, a few strands falling loose across his forehead. A three-day stubble sharpened his jawline in a way that made him look rugged and effortlessly handsome. And was he wearing that shirt? The red and black lumberjack one that used to drive her wild?
Bucky caught her reaction and hit him like a shot of adrenaline. When he exited the bathroom that night and picked what to wear, he told himself it was just practical attire, something comfortable to wear while watching and playing with Ben. The cologne? Just a habit. But deep down, a part of him knew the truth: he wanted her to notice, and that split-second when her eyes widened, scanning him from head to toe, told him everything. She noticed. She definitely noticed. And something about that felt like a victory, even though he wasn’t supposed to be playing that game anymore.
He stared at her longer than necessary, his blue gaze drifting over the black dress she wore. New, he realized. It hugged her body in all the right places, accentuating her curves in a way that was impossible to ignore. The hemline? Too short for his liking. He clenched his jaw slightly, knowing full well Chris would be thrilled to see her like this.
Forcing himself to snap out of it, Bucky cleared his throat and broke the silence. “Hey,” he said, low and calm, though the tension still swirled beneath the surface. “You look... good.” He meant it, but the words tasted bitter.
"Thanks," she said, politely but distantly, deliberately choosing not to compliment him back. She lingered for a moment, then added, “You’re late.”
Bucky flinched inwardly at the remark, though he kept his expression neutral. "Traffic," he muttered, stepping inside as she moved aside to let him in. An awkward silence stretched between them, the air thick with things left unsaid.
Her fingers toyed with the edge of her dress as she cleared her throat, trying to fill the silence. “Ben is in the bathroom,” she said casually, but there was a tension beneath it. “You can wait for him in the living room.”
“Right,” Bucky replied, nodding stiffly. He walked past her and into the living room, and the space felt both familiar and foreign at the same time. He took a seat, trying to shake off the strange energy between them, but his mind kept wandering back to the fact that she was dressed for someone else.
A moment later, the doorbell rang, and she turned toward the sound, visibly relieved. She opened the door, and Bucky heard Chris’s voice, a cheerful greeting that she surely responded to with a soft, warm smile. He didn’t need to see it, her tone was different with him, softer, more open.
“Hey,” Chris said with a bright tone, though there was a subtle shift when he paused. There was a beat of silence before he added, “You look amazing.”
Bucky couldn’t help it. Something pulled him from the couch, and before he knew it, he was standing in the hall, watching the interaction from a few feet away. His eyes narrowed as he observed Chris, sizing him up instinctively. Chris was taller than he remembered, clean-cut in a casual but neat button-down shirt, his charming smile faltering just a fraction when his eyes darted past her, catching sight of Bucky standing there.
Chris’s brows furrowed, but he quickly masked his reaction, giving Bucky a curt nod. “Uh, hey,” he greeted awkwardly, glancing between them.
It was her turn to narrow her eyes. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw him. Bucky stood at the edge of the hallway, staring directly at Chris with an unreadable expression. His eyes locked onto the man without blinking. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t saying anything, just staring.
Inwardly, she rolled her eyes. Really? A display of male dominance, here and now? After everything he’d put her through, the mess he’d made of their lives, he suddenly decided he had the right to act territorial? What exactly did he think he was entitled to? The nerve of it sent a wave of irritation through her body, hardening her grip on her coat.
But what frustrated her even more -what really troubled her- was that a part of her didn’t mind. Beneath her annoyance, something stirred, deep and undeniable. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but his presence still had a hold on her. Maybe it didn’t bother her as much as she wanted to believe. Maybe, despite everything, there was still a part of her that reacted to him, to the way he watched her, the way he used to make her feel like the center of his world.
Before those feelings could rise any further, before she could let herself dwell on what they meant, she quickly turned back to Chris. She forced a bright smile, pushing away the conflicted thoughts swirling in her mind.
“We should get going,” she said, pretending not to notice the tension still hanging in the air. She stepped closer to Chris, signaling it was time to leave, hoping to put some distance between her and the weight of Bucky’s gaze.
As the door clicked shut behind them, Bucky stood frozen in place for a moment, still tense, even with their absence. The quiet of the house felt heavier now, oppressive. His chest clenched as he stared at the closed door, half-expecting her to walk back in. Of course, she didn’t.
His hands closed into fists at his sides as he replayed the scene in his head: her standing there, beautiful and confident, and Chris… that guy was so normal, so easygoing. Exactly what she deserved. Exactly what Bucky could never be. He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. What was he even doing? He had no right, he was the one who walked away. He was the one who made her believe she wasn’t enough to keep him, that he wanted out. And now, here he was, silently raging because she was moving on, exactly like he supposedly wanted.
Stupid. That was the only word he could come up with to describe how he felt. Stupid for showing up looking the way he did, stupid for thinking that maybe he could still affect her. But what for? His job was to protect her and their son from the shadows, not to stand in the doorway, playing the part of some jealous lover. But God, it hurt more than he expected.
He crossed the living room with heavy steps and slumped into the couch. The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint sound of the TV in the background. Ben was still in the bathroom, probably playing with the liquid soap and making a mess, unaware of the tangled web of emotions his father was caught in.
The hours slipped by, though Bucky barely noticed at first. Benjamin was beyond excited to have his dad all to himself for the evening. They played, joked, and built elaborate lego fortresses, the boy’s laughter filling the house with a warmth Bucky hadn’t realized he missed so much. For a little while, he was able to shove everything else to the back of his mind. Being a dad, just a dad, felt like a relief. But every now and then, his gaze would drift to the clock on the wall. He couldn’t help it. As much as he tried to stay in the moment with his son, there was a constant pull, a nagging thought of where she was.
After he’d put Ben to bed, Bucky’s mind wandered back to the date. Her image in that black dress haunted him, the way Chris had looked at her, the possibility of what might have happened after dinner. His thoughts spiraled, even though he knew it was none of his business anymore. He poured himself a scotch, the amber liquid swirling in his glass as he tried -and failed- to push the thoughts aside.
Eventually, the sound of the front door opening cut through the silence. The familiar click of her shoes against the entryway tile echoed through the house, sharp and distinct. She was home.
Bucky didn’t move. He stayed where he was, seated at the old teakwood table, nursing his scotch. The only light on in the house was the dim glow above the kitchen, so she’d find him.
The sound of her footsteps grew closer, and he listened intently, his heart beating just a little faster despite his best efforts to keep calm.
She entered the kitchen, her steps sounding a little less steady than usual, mumbling a soft “Hi” as she made her way inside. Bucky glanced up, immediately sensing that she was a little tipsy. She didn’t meet his eyes, just plopped down in the chair next to him with a tired sigh. “God, my feet are killing me,” she muttered, kicking off her heels and wincing.
For a while, the silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sound of the fridge. She sighed absentmindedly, then reached for his glass of scotch, taking a sip without asking. He was taken aback by the casual intimacy of the gesture, but he said nothing, just watched her as she leaned back in her chair.
Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out. “Want me to rub your feet?” He froze. He couldn’t believe he’d said it, half-expecting her to snap at him or give him one of her sharp retorts.
But instead, she surprised him. She looked over at him, her eyes tired but soft, and then shrugged. “Yeah...” she said, a little more relaxed than he expected.
Bucky blinked, caught off guard by her response. His heart thudded against his ribcage as he moved toward her, kneeling down in front of her chair. His fingers hovered hesitantly over her ankle before wrapping gently around it, lifting her foot onto his knee.
As he began to knead his thumbs into her sore muscles, the tension that had been brewing in him all night seemed to ease, just a little. Her head lolled back against the chair, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
He couldn’t believe he was doing this, touching her again in this way, after everything. He shouldn’t, but she didn’t seem to mind. If anything, she seemed to relax more as the seconds passed, letting her guard down in a way that felt dangerously familiar.
“So... how was the date?” Bucky’s voice was quiet, almost too casual as he broke the silence.
Her eyes fluttered open at the question, and for a moment, he thought she might brush him off or remind him that it wasn’t his business. But instead, she gave a small shrug, her tone indifferent. “It was fine.”
Bucky frowned slightly, pressing his thumbs a little harder into the arch of her foot. He wasn’t sure if it was frustration or something else pushing his hands. “Fine?” he echoed, trying to keep his voice even.
“Yeah,” she murmured, closing her eyes. Her voice was soft, almost distracted. “Just... fine.”
He wasn’t satisfied with that. He couldn’t help himself, he pressed, his tone still light but with a thread of tension beneath it. “Only... fine?”
She sighed, her eyes still closed as if trying to keep the conversation from getting deeper. “What do you want me to say, Bucky?” Her voice wasn’t sharp, but there was a subtle edge in her words. “That it was amazing? That he swept me off my feet? Some dirty little details?”
His fingers stilled for a moment, resting against her foot as he met her gaze. He didn’t respond right away, unsure if he even wanted to hear the truth, whatever it might be. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice a little more vulnerable than he intended.
“It was just fine, nothing more, nothing less”
Silence stretched between them again, but he wasn’t ready to let it drop. “Are you going to see each other again outside work?” he ventured, slowly moving his hands up her shin, hesitantly but growing bolder. The fact that she didn’t push him away emboldened him further. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
His hands continued their slow ascent, brushing his fingers over her calf and then her knee, firm but careful. When she didn’t pull away, he felt his pulse quicken. The silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of things left unsaid.
“In a way,” she finally answered, her voice was elusive, a little distant. She shifted slightly in her chair, subtly parting her thighs as his hands wandered higher. The movement was small, but enough for him to catch it. His breath hitched, and his gaze flicked down to her legs before rising back up to her face, darkening with lust.
"Care to... elaborate?" he pressed again, his voice lower now, rougher. His fingers slid up to her inner thigh, stopping there with a possessive grip as if testing her reaction. Her legs instinctively spread wider beneath his touch, and that simple motion sent a rush of heat through his body.
She shifted slightly, as if searching for the right words. "He’s... nice," she finally said, a bit breathless under his touch. "He’s thoughtful, considerate, makes me laugh…” Her lips twitched in a small smile, but it quickly faded as she looked down at his hand resting on her thigh. “He’s... good.”
Bucky’s thumb paused, pressing a little harder, as he leaned in closer, his voice barely above a murmur. “…And?”
She sighed, opening her eyes again to meet his intense gaze. “And… he’s not you.”
His grip on her thigh tightened involuntarily. He’d pushed her away, done everything he could to sever the ties between them, convinced himself it was for her protection. But now, hearing her admit that, it sent his head spinning.
He’s not you.
The room seemed smaller, the air heavier, as the tension between them crackled like electricity. His hand inched higher, dangerously close to where he could feel the heat radiating off her body. Every instinct in him screamed to close the distance, to take what he wanted, to forget everything that had led them to this point. But he forced himself to stop, locking his gaze onto hers, searching her face for any sign that she would tell him to stop.
She didn’t. Instead, she held his gaze, breathing shallow as if waiting to see what he would do next.
Bucky’s grip closed again. Fuck it. He leaned forward, pressing his face against her other inner thigh, grazing her skin with his stubble as he inhaled her scent deeply. She tensed, feeling him nip gently at her sensitive flesh, and then a slow, deliberate lick followed, sending a shiver through her body.
"Did he behave, or..." he paused, teasing the same spot with his tongue before he looked up at her, brushing her thigh with his lips as he continued, "...things got handsy?"
A gasp escaped her lips when she felt his mouth so dangerously close to where she wanted it most. Her head tilted back just slightly, her body betraying her as desire pooled lower in her belly. His eyes flicked up, meeting hers, their blue depths darkened with lust, and something more. His lips remained pressed against her skin, refusing to budge until he had his answer.
"You let him touch you?" His voice was a husky whisper, laced with jealousy.
She exhaled slowly, her breath was shaky as the memory flickered through her mind. "Yes," she admitted, reluctantly. "But just briefly, when we ki-"
Before she could finish, Bucky’s hand shifted, moving up to cup her mound, pressing his fingers firmly against the damp fabric of her underwear. Her words died in her throat, and a sharp intake of breath replaced them as his touch ignited a fire that spread through her veins. His hand was deliberate and unapologetic in the way it claimed her, the heel of his palm pressing against her pussy as if he had every right to be there.
"And then?" His question hung in the air, but she couldn’t find the words immediately.
Her lips parted as she finally spoke, barely above a whisper. "I wanted to feel something... but I didn’t. I just didn’t."
Bucky’s hand remained where it was, but his thumb stroked over the wet fabric, teasing her, testing her resolve as his gaze bore into hers. She had said what he needed to hear, what he craved to know, and now, there was no turning back.
His thumb slid the fabric of her underwear aside, and his fingers didn’t hesitate as they slipped between her folds, finding her slick with need. He brushed upward, just barely grazing her clit, watching with dark, heavy-lidded eyes as she gasped at the contact. Her body arched involuntarily, but he didn’t relent, keeping his movements slow and deliberate, teasing her just enough to drive her crazy but not enough to give her what she craved.
“And…” he murmured, rasping against the tension rising between them, “how long did it take you to realize you’d had enough? That it wasn’t going to work?”
His thumb circled lazily, making her hips shift forward, chasing the friction he barely offered. The question hung in the air, laced with his possessiveness through every word. He didn’t wait for an answer, delving his fingers deeper inside her, coating themselves in her arousal before they moving back up, brushing over her clit again, this time with more pressure.
"One kiss?" His lips curled in a half-smirk as he watched her face contort with pleasure. He dipped his fingers inside her again, slowly, dragging them out just as leisurely. "Two?"
She trembled, unable to form a coherent response, the sensation of his touch overwhelmed her senses after so long. Her breath hitched as his fingers increased their pace, every stroke purposeful, designed to unravel her. Bucky leaned upward, brushing the shell of her ear as he murmured, “How long, doll?” The way he said it, like a dare, made her heart race even faster.
Her head fell back, and her body betrayed any attempt at control as she whispered breathlessly, “One…”
A satisfied groan escaped his throat, and his fingers rewarded her honesty with a firmer stroke, sending her spiraling closer to the edge.
It wasn’t fair. He had cast her aside, almost without looking back, tearing her world apart with his cold departure. And now here she was, grinding her pussy against his fingers like some desperate, needy whore, begging for more. A part of her wanted to slap him, to shove him away and scream at him for every sleepless night she spent wondering why she wasn’t enough, why he had thrown their life away so easily. She wanted to tell him how much she hated him for walking out on them.
But then, there was that traitorous side of her. The part that had never stopped hoping. The part that had always waited held out some foolish, silent hope that he’d come back. That she’d see that flicker of warmth in his eyes again, the one that told her she was his entire world. And it wasn’t just her heart that longed for him, her body had missed him, too. She hated herself for it. For still thinking about him late at night when she touched herself, slipping her fingers between her thighs as his name slipped from her lips in the darkness.
And that same traitorous side of her had ruined her date with Chris. She’d tried to be present, to laugh, to be charmed by his warm smile and thoughtful gestures. But all night, all she could think about was Bucky.
The way he’d looked at him, cold and assessing, as if he didn’t belong there, his presence filling the hallway like he still had some claim to it, to her. What was he trying to prove, anyway? That he still was the man of the house?
She hated how, even while Chris was talking, her mind drifted back to Bucky’s fingers tracing his stupid shirt, his stupid long locks, his stupid cologne, the one he used when they went out on little dates. And she knew, even if she couldn’t admit it aloud, that some part of her had wanted him to see her dressed up, to feel in some small way the longing and ache she’d carried in his absence.
And maybe that’s why she’d felt nothing when Chris had leaned in for a kiss, why his gentle smile and soft touches had felt hollow. Even his laugh, light and kind, didn’t make her feel anything because it wasn't Bucky’s rough, rumbling chuckle or his stupidly confident grin. Bucky, in all his infuriating ways, still occupied every corner of her mind.
Her breath came in shallow gasps, and her chest rose and fell rapidly as his fingers worked her closer to the edge. She wanted to be angry, to let that rage consume her, but every time she opened her mouth to say something hurtful, to lash out at him, her body betrayed her. Every roll of her hips against his hand, every needy whimper that slipped from her throat, reminded her of just how much she had missed this.
It wasn’t fair. But she couldn’t stop.
With a light pinch on her swollen clit, the tension snapped, and she came hard on his fingers. Her mouth fell open with a moan as her body convulsed, riding the wave of pleasure pulsing through her body. The world blurred around her as her climax took over her body, grinding her hips against his hand, chasing every last second of the release.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, with a mix of overwhelming pleasure and the emotional storm swirling inside her. A few finally escaped, rolling silently down her cheeks, but before she could turn away, Bucky was there, brushing his lips on her skin to wipe them away with surprising tenderness. His breath ghosted over her cheeks as he whispered soft, comforting words she could barely make out, something about how beautiful she was, how good she had been for him, as if they hadn’t been tangled up in all this pain and heartache.
His touch was almost reverent as he slowly withdrew his fingers, slick and glistening. Their gazes met, and he didn’t break eye contact as he brought those same fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with deliberate, agonizing slowness. He stood up in one fluid motion, lifting her effortlessly from the chair by the waist as if she weighed nothing, and in a swift, controlled movement, he placed her on top of the table, standing between her legs.
Before she could even process it, his arms were around her, pulling her into a bear hug that was both tight and needy. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply against her skin.
He held her as if letting go was not an option, firmly yet strangely vulnerable. The way he clung to her body felt like both a claim and an apology, urgent -almost broken- like he was holding onto her not just physically, but emotionally, too.
“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll leave,” he murmured against her skin, his voice rough and low, against her neck. He didn’t dare to look at her, not yet, because if he did, if he saw doubt or rejection in her eyes, it would break him.
The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Each second felt like an eternity. His breath was uneven and ragged as he waited for her to say anything. Another moment passed, tension swirled in his chest until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He lifted his head, searching her gaze, bracing himself for the worst. But instead of the words that would send him away, he saw her eyes flicker downward to his lips. It was brief, a split-second decision, but it was enough.
So he leaned in, cautiously at first, like he was testing the waters after years of distance. His lips brushed softly against hers, almost hesitantly, as if afraid this fragile moment would break apart. But the second she responded, it was like a dam broke. His hands cradled her face, deepening the kiss with desperation. It was messy and all-consuming. There was no gentleness, no tenderness. This was not the careful, delicate dance of two people testing the waters. This was hunger, a need to reclaim what had been lost. His lips moved down to her jaw, her neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses on her skin, and she moaned softly, threading her fingers in his hair as he sucked on the sensitive spot below her ear.
His hands gripped her waist, strong and possessive, pulling her closer until her body was flush against his. The need to feel her body, to claim her, was overwhelming. It was like two years of silence, longing, and frustration had ignited in an instant, and everything that had been pushed down now surged forward, unstoppable.
“I’ll ask you again, babydoll. Are you sure you want this?” Bucky’s voice was thick with restraint, the tension in his muscles barely contained as he loomed over her, his breath hot against her neck. He was giving her one last chance to stop this, to pull away, even though every fiber of his body was screaming for her. But instead of words, her answer was a quiet, deliberate motion. Her hand slid between them, deftly unbuttoning his jeans, brushing her fingers against the outline of his erection.
A low hiss escaped his lips, and his hand shot down to catch her wrist, halting her movements. His gaze met hers, dark and intense, his chest heaving with barely restrained desire. “I need you to say it,” he murmured, on the edge of control.
“Yes,” she murmured.
That was all he needed.
Without hesitation, he pulled his shirt over his head in one motion, not bothering with the buttons, his muscles flexing as the fabric slid off. The moment his skin was free, he didn’t give himself time to think. His eyes locked on hers as he grabbed the neckline of her dress. With a sharp tug, the fabric tore easily under his grip, and the sound of it ripping filled the air. The dress fell to her waist, exposing her bare breasts to his gaze.
“Hey! It was brand new, you know?” she protested.
“I noticed,” he replied, grazing his fingers on the tattered edge of her dress. “But you didn’t buy it to wear it for me, did you?” His voice dropped, thick with jealousy as he alluded to her date with Chris. He dipped his head, and his lips hovered just above her exposed skin. “I don’t want it on you”. He latched his lips onto her nipple, swirling his tongue with a hungry need, while his vibranium fingers pinched and teased her other breast. His breath was hot against her chest as he whispered between kisses, “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this... missed you.” His words came out rough, full of longing that he couldn’t hold back any longer. “Every night... thinking about touching you again. Tasting you. Making you come over my cock.”
Her body responded, arching into him. She bit her lip, trying to stifle a moan, afraid that maybe Ben could hear her, but it slipped out anyway.
His hands moved to her thighs, gripping them firmly as he let out a low groan. “I thought about this, over and over... how you’d feel under me, how you’d sound when I made you scream my name again.” His voice was thick, hoarse, as he tugged at her dress, tearing the fabric completely until it was nothing but rags on the floor. He didn’t stop there, slipping his thumbs under the waistband of her flimsy panties. With a swift tug, the seams gave way, tearing effortlessly in his hands. He brought the soaked cloth to his nose, inhaling deeply, groaning as if the scent alone was enough to drive him insane. “God, I’ve missed this,” he muttered, his eyes never leaving hers. He flicked his tongue against the ruined cloth, savoring the taste with a low, hungry growl.
Without warning, he tossed the panties aside. His hands moved quickly, unbuttoning what remained of his jeans and kicking off his shoes before sliding the denim and underwear down in one fluid motion. They hit the floor with a soft thud as he stepped toward her. “Tell me how much you missed me,” he demanded softly.
She stared at him, drinking him in. He looked leaner, his body sculpted in sharp lines of muscle. He’d lost weight, surely by going on mission after mission, mixed with his poor eating habits. He was never good at taking care of himself. She almost missed the small paunch he used to have these last years, the one he hated, but she’d loved to bite. There was something comforting about that softness, but now he was the embodiment of raw strength.
Her gaze drifted lower, lingering on the sight of his cock, standing at full attention. She swallowed. Apparently, her memories failed to measure up to reality. He was big, sure, she’d always known that, but this big? Her pussy tightened with need, clenching in raw anticipation.
"I missed you,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, laced with longing as her eyes lifted to meet his. “So much… you have no idea. God, you’ve ruined me.”
Her words shattered whatever restraint he had left. He’d imagined, countless times, that if this moment ever came, he’d take his time, savor her, and make it last. But now, faced with her body beneath him, so close and so ready, patience was a luxury he no longer possessed.
Without a second thought, he gripped her thighs and spread her wide on the table, lining himself up as he dragged the head of his cock along her entrance, coating himself in her slick heat. In a swift, desperate thrust, he drove into her, hard and deep, filling her completely as a ragged groan escaped his lips.
She cried out, her body responding immediately, arching into him as he slammed into her again. His hands gripped her hips with bruising force, and his own moved in a relentless rhythm, every thrust driving him deeper inside her. He couldn’t stop. Her moans spurred him on, her words circling in his head like a drug.
“Ruined you, huh?” His breath was ragged as he pulled almost all the way out, teasing her with the loss, before slamming back in. “Let me remind you how much.” With a raw hunger that had been bottled up far too long, Bucky's thrusts became brutal, each one driving her back along the table, her nails scraping against the wood as he took her over and over. The grip on her hips was iron-hard, pinning her down so she could do nothing but take everything he gave her. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. “Think anyone else could ever do this?” he murmured, his voice dark and rough, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust. His lips ghosted along her jaw, and he pushed her to answer, knowing the effect he was having on her. “Tell me,” he demanded softly, “Could anyone else make you feel like this?” He wanted her to say it, to make her admit that no one else would ever satisfy her the way he could.
She whimpered, clutching at his shoulders as he pounded into her, her nails digging into his skin as he pushed her higher and higher. “No… no one else.” Her words were broken, barely audible over her moans, but it was all he needed to hear.
“That’s right” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and rough, “No one else gets to touch you like this,” he breathed, each word laced with raw possessiveness as he thrust deeper. “Only me,” he rasped. “Only I get to make you feel this way.”
He groaned, and his left hand left her hip to slide between them, pressing down on her clit in quick, merciless circles. “This is mine,” he hissed, metal fingers working just enough to bring her close before pulling away, only to return just as she thought she couldn’t take any more.
She cried out, her body writhing beneath him as he drove her to the edge. His pace never faltered, his hips grinding against hers with a relentless rhythm, and his grip on her body only hardened as she arched off the table, spilling his name from her lips like a prayer.
"Say it," he demanded, his voice thick with lust and something darker. His hands slid down the back of her thighs, pushing her legs up against her torso as he plunged deeper, and she could barely breathe every time he bottomed out. The way he hit her, the pressure at her cervix, sent shockwaves of pleasure-pain coursing through her body, each one making her mewl helplessly. Her thighs shook against his chest, her hands desperately clutching at his forearms, fingers digging into his skin.
He leaned in closer again, his face inches from hers, his lips brushing her ears as he growled, “Say it, Doll. Tell me you’re mine.”
"I’m yours… fuck, Bucky!" she complied, her voice breaking between her panting breaths.
"Again," he ordered, slamming his hips into hers, as the table creaked under the force of his movements. He could feel her walls clenching around him, so tight, so wet, he almost lost control then and there.
“I’m yours,” she whimpered again, her voice shaky, breathless.
“Chris will be so disappointed to hear that,” he growled. “Let’s make sure you stay ruined, just in case.” He was relentless now, fucking her hard, deep, his body pressing hers further into the table as he pushed her thighs harder against her body giving him even better access, hitting that sensitive spot that left her gasping, his grip and the relentless pace leaving no room for anything but the sensation of him filling her over and over.
She whimpered in response, too overwhelmed to speak, her entire body tensing as the pleasure became almost unbearable. His thumb moved between them again, rubbing circles that sent sparks of heat shooting through her body. She gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as her orgasm built rapidly.
“Milk my cock, sugar,” he ordered harshly, primal. His words pushed her over the edge, and then she was gone, her body shivering violently as she clenched around him, tightening her thighs around him as her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer. The sound of his name fell from her lips, half-whisper, half-cry as the climax gripped her, intense and all-consuming, leaving her a trembling, breathless mess.
“I’m gonna fill you up,” he growled through gritted teeth, his hips snapping into hers with bruising force. “And then some more,” he rasped, his voice thick with raw need. “You won’t even be able to keep it all in, babydoll.”
With a final thrust, Bucky’s head fell back, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he reached his climax. His body trembled, and his muscles tensed as he spilled inside her, a heated wave of release that filled her completely. He held her there, as his cock kept pulsing until his release overflowed, warm and thick, beginning to trickle down, pooling beneath them.
Still buried inside her, Bucky loosened his grip on her thighs, sliding down his hands to cradle her waist as he leaned forward, gently resting his forehead against her shoulder. He nuzzled into the curve of her neck, breathing in her scent, calming himself as the heat of what they did slowly ebbed, replaced by a quiet neither of them seemed prepared for.
After a moment, he gently eased himself away, untangling their bodies but letting his hands linger at her hips, as though afraid to lose the connection. He took a step back, dropping his gaze for a moment before lifting to meet hers, hoping she’d break the silence, but she didn’t look at him, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.
Bucky’s chest clenched, a familiar pang surfacing in him as he watched her withdraw inward, her mind going elsewhere despite what they’d just shared. Finally, she spoke, her voice low, tentative. “So… what now, Bucky?”
He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I don’t- I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he forced himself to hold her gaze. “I know I shouldn’t have done this. Not after…” He hesitated, but the truth slipped out anyway. “Not after what I put you through.”
Her eyes narrowed, and suspicion clouded her expression, old wounds resurfacing. “Then why did you put me through this, Bucky?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with pain. “You said you couldn’t do this. That you needed space, that we were holding you back.” Her words floated between them, each one a quiet accusation tinged with vulnerability. “And now, you’re here, acting like…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “…acting like you never left.”
He hesitated, knowing this was his chance to finally tell her the truth or let her keep believing the lie he’d used to protect them. He rubbed a hand over his face, then lowered it, meeting her gaze with raw honesty. “I didn’t leave because I didn’t want you,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I left because I was afraid that my past... everything I tried to bury might come back to hurt you. Hurt him.” His voice softened. “I thought if you believed I didn’t want this life, it would keep you safe.”
He glanced down, his hand twitching at his side, before he looked up again. "But… I want to come back,” he admitted, the words raw, like they’d been buried deep for too long. “To the house. To you, and Benjamin.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, flicking her gaze over their scattered clothes still strewn across the kitchen floor. She looked away, tensing as she rubbed her temples. "So, what’s changed, Bucky? The risks are still there, the same threats, the same fears..."
Bucky’s gaze didn’t waver; his hand reached out as though to touch her, but he stopped short, brushing his fingers over the edge of the table instead. "What’s different is me. I’ve had time to face what I couldn’t before. Stepping aside didn’t keep you safer; it just kept me away. I don’t want Ben growing up with a dad who keeps him and his mom at arm’s length. Almost a stranger.” His voice softened. “Being apart from you doesn’t make things better. I miss you, doll. I miss us.”
“You can’t just leave and come back like nothing happened, Bucky.” Her voice was softer this time, almost breaking. “I wanted you here… every day, every night. Not just for me, but for Benjamin.”
He took a step closer, hovering his hand near hers, unsure if she’d pull away. “I know, and I hate that I ever thought leaving was the answer.” His tone was low, his gaze fixed on her.
She looked down. “If you come back, I need to know you’re here to stay,” she murmured, the words more for herself than for him. “Because I don’t think I can go through this again… and I won’t let him either.” Her voice cracked on the last word as her hands gripped the table harder.
Those words shattered the last remnants of his restraint. Without another thought, Bucky dropped to his knees in front of her, the hard tile digging into his flesh as he pressed his forehead against her thigh. She sucked in a breath, instinctively moving her hand toward his hair, and her fingers trembled as they brushed against it. He could feel her hesitation, the walls she’d built so carefully to guard herself from the ache he’d left behind.
“Say yes,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Say yes, doll. I know I don’t deserve it.” His hands gripped her hips as if she were the only thing keeping him steady. “But I swear,” His voice cracked, raw and pleading. “I swear, I’ll never walk away again. Not from you, not from Benjamin.”
She looked down, a mix of shock and pain written on her face as she saw him there, broken, open, begging her for something she’d once offered so freely. Her hand gently settled on his cheek, and he leaned into the warmth of her touch, feeling the softness of her fingers against the rough stubble of his jaw. The ache in her eyes nearly undid him, but he stayed there, with his forehead still pressed to her thigh, his breath heavy, waiting.
Her eyes searched his, and slowly, her resolve began to waver, the smallest flicker of trust finding its way back into her gaze. "Then prove it," she murmured, barely trusting herself as her hand lingered against his cheek. "Show me you’re here to stay."
After her words hung in the air, a fragile silence fell between them, and Bucky’s gaze dropped. He swallowed, and his hand reached for something inside the scattered clothes on the floor.
From his back pocket, he drew out a small, well-worn leather charm, a little star-shaped pendant, its edges smoothened from years of handling. She recognized it immediately. It was something she’d passed on to him when he left for his first mission after they married, a symbol she hoped would keep him safe. She thought it had been lost long ago, like so many pieces of them.
He held it out to her, and the look on his face was raw, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t seen since the early days. “I never stopped carrying this,” he murmured, his voice rough and thick. “Even when I tried to convince myself I was doing the right thing by staying away. I couldn’t let go of you…of us. I kept it close, hoping… hoping someday I could come back and give it back to you. I know it doesn’t make up for the time I lost, but…” His voice faltered.
She stared at the pendant, her hand shaking slightly as she reached out, grazing the familiar leather. All the memories it held, the late-night goodbyes, the whispered promises, the hope she’d once tied to it, all of it rushed back, filling the space between them.
She looked down at him, seeing in his eyes the weight of the years, the regrets, but also the glimmer of the man she’d fallen in love with.
Taking a shaky breath, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “This… this was supposed to keep you safe, Bucky. Keep us safe.”
“And it did,” he replied softly, covering her hand over the charm with his. “It kept you here.” He paused, his voice barely a murmur. “And maybe now… it can bring me back home.”
The last of her defenses wavered, and she felt herself letting go of the anger, the hurt, all the pieces that had kept them apart. “Maybe… maybe it was always meant to guide you back here,” she said softly, meeting his eyes with a warmth he hadn’t seen in years. “So if you’re really here to stay… then welcome home, Bucky.”
warnings: 18+ NSFW, smut, friends with benefits, secret relationships, jealousy, blood and wounds, war, fluff, angst, light banter, mutual pining, slight chef!bob x reader moment, possessive sex, pussy pronouns, breeding kink
wordcount: 12.2k
a/n: based on this request. thank you sm for the suggestion because it helped me out of my slump. ohhh knight!bucky how i yearn for you
main masterlist
synopsis:
A maidservant’s only job is to tend to the princess's every whim. But despite the warnings of everyone around you, you can't help but fall for the one person you shouldn't, and that was the kingdom's trustiest knight and the princess’s sole protector—James Barnes.
Being the maidservant of a princess came with both its advantages and disadvantages.
You were constantly on your feet, up before the sun rose and down long after it set. Your body was in a permanent state of ache and strain from lifting heavy baskets of laundry up and down several flights of stairs, and your fingers were often raw from the needle poking through thick fabrics.
Princess Daphne always barked the wildest commands, keeping you and the other maidservants running around the palace to satisfy her every whim and desire.
It was hard, tedious work, but it gave you a roof over your head and a decent enough pay. And in this day and age, with the war against Sokovia, protection was the most important thing.
You could live in a beautiful home, but none of it mattered if Sokovian soldiers could barge past the kingdom gates at any moment with their weapons and horses at the ready.
With knights posted at every corner, the palace became your sanctuary.
There was one knight in particular who always seemed to linger near the maidservants’ chambers on the highest floor. A window sat right outside your room in the hallway, offering a clear view of the grounds where that same knight always stood on guard.
“James,” you greeted him with a sigh, still catching your breath from the long climb up the stairs.
He turned toward you, his usually tense, focused shoulders easing slightly at the sight of you.
A small, rare, and gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“You know—when it’s just me and you, you don’t have to call me James.”
A sheepish flush crept over your face as you approached him.
There was a true sense of family among the palace workers; the bond between the maidservants was like a sisterhood, and you were close with many of the chefs. Late at night, when the palace fell asleep, you and the other servants would gather at the kitchen tables to laugh and drink long past midnight.
The knights hardly ever got the time off or the leisure that you and the other maids enjoyed. But for Bucky, just seeing and talking to you was enough.
He stepped toward you, his heavy armor clinking with every movement. “Long day?”
“Mhm,” you mumbled tiredly.
Finally stripped away from the presence of royalty, you were free to speak as sluggishly and as improperly as you liked.
A soft exhale left Bucky’s nose. His right hand—flesh and human—came up to caress your cheek, while the other, metal and forged by the kingdom’s greatest blacksmith, cradled the other side of your face.
The touch was cold and made you shiver, but nonetheless, it was still Bucky.
Your Bucky.
“Sleepy girl,” he muttered, his thumb tracing your cheek as he stared down at you, strands of long, dark hair falling over his face. “You’ve been working so hard, haven’t you?”
A little whine left your mouth as you stepped closer into his space, letting yourself bask in his touch.
He chuckled softly, pulling you against his chest and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.
“I should let you retreat to your bedchambers,” he spoke quietly. “But I don’t want to let you go. I haven’t seen you all day. Is that selfish of me?”
“Very selfish of you, James.”
“I told you not to call me that.”
You smiled, tilting your head back against his chest to look him in the eye. “Oh—I apologize, Bucky.” You teased.
Bucky grinned, his hand trailing down to your chin and lifting it, presenting your lips to him—the prize he’d been seeking all day.
“That’s my girl,” he mumbled.
Just as he leaned in to find the salvation he’d been starving for, the door to your bedchamber swung open. Your roommate, Yelena, poked her head out and scrunched her nose in disgust.
“Ew,” she dragged out childishly. “Is this what you knights usually do on your time off? Stick your tongue down an unassuming maidservant’s throat?”
Your face burned with embarrassment as Bucky pulled away, glaring daggers in Yelena’s direction.
He clicked his tongue. “Unassuming,” he repeated in a grumble.
He looked back down at you with a soft, disappointed sigh.
“I shall let you rest.” Using his gloved hand, he brought your fingers to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your palm. “Goodnight, maiden.”
Bucky stepped aside as you retreated toward your bedchambers. Yelena held the door open with her body, arms folded tightly across her chest as she continued to glare him down.
“Yelena,” you hissed at her quietly as you slipped inside, “stop.”
After throwing one last look over her shoulder at Bucky, Yelena finally pulled the door closed. Inside, your roommates and fellow maidservants were already settled for the night, snug and comfortable on their cots.
Natasha was brushing out her hair, a knowing, teasing glint in her eyes. “Did you have fun with soldier boy out there?”
You gasped softly at her direct question. “N-Nat—!”
“You know, soldier boy didn’t even spare us a glance when we walked up the stairs,” Wanda added, swinging her feet over the edge of her bed as she stood up. “It’s as if the knight recognizes the sound of your footsteps by heart.”
All eyes were on you, and you wished the floor would simply open up and swallow you whole to save you from the relentless teasing.
“You ladies are unbelievable—”
“Am I the only one who doesn’t find this funny in the slightest?” Yelena barked, a disapproving look on her face. She glared harshly at Nat, then Wanda, and finally you. “If word gets out that a maidservant is having an affair with a knight—no, the Sergeant himself—we’re all ruined!”
You frowned, undoing the ties in your hair as you made your way to your side of the room.
“I wouldn’t call it an affair,” you explained. “We haven’t put a title on…” You swallowed hard, twisting the hair tie between your fingers, “…this arrangement.”
Yelena ran a hand down her face. “That’s even worse!”
“Yelena, calm down,” Natasha cut in, glancing at you from her bed. “But as harsh as she's being, she is right.”
You kept your head down, trying to appear fixated on the hair ties and pins scattered across your dresser. You knew they were right—that being in any kind of relationship with one of the kingdom’s knights was nothing but trouble.
Especially when the knight in question was Sergeant Barnes—the very man entrusted to watch over the princess.
“You are in love,” Wanda pointed out gently from across the room. “We can see that. But you have to believe us—we’re only looking out for you.” She approached you, setting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Falling in love with a knight will bring nothing but heartache.”
Words were just words until they were spoken by the right person. Yelena and Natasha could doubt you and Bucky all they wanted—but it was Wanda’s voice that truly made the realization sting.
Because Wanda was a maidservant who had fallen for a knight, just like you.
His name was Vision, and he had been felled in a battle against Sokovian soldiers. While they were deep in their secret affair, they had been told the same things over and over.
“You could get us all in trouble.”
“You’re only thinking for yourself.”
But before word could ever get out about Wanda and Vis, he passed away, leaving Wanda to grieve in total isolation.
She couldn’t even attend his funeral, and her name couldn’t be left in his will.
It pained you because, despite the sanctuary and comfort of living in the palace, you still wanted more. You wanted to be with the man who stood just outside your bedchambers.
“I know,” you said quietly, looking up at the other girls and forcing a smile to show them you were okay—that this was okay. “And I understand. I won’t let it come between us.”
It was a promise you had made countless times, but you knew you would always run back to him.
You were kneeling on the floor, adjusting the hem of Princess Daphne’s dress as her blue eyes bored into the large window to her right rather than the full body mirror in front of her.
“Is it just me, or are the roses in the garden unkempt?”
There was no one else in the room, so this was her attempt at a conversation. Most of these ended with her complaining about some minor issue, leaving you to simply nod in agreement.
You glanced over your shoulder, taking in the roses. They didn’t look out of place—maybe a few weeds were overgrown nearby, but nothing unruly.
“The roses do look unkempt these days, Your Royal Highness,” you agreed anyway, bringing your attention back to the skirts.
She hummed. “The gardener has been fruitless lately, has he not?”
“I believe Mister Alexei has been feeling unwell, Your Royal Highness,” you explained politely.
Princess Daphne raised a brow, looking down at you as you fluffed her skirt. “Whatever for?”
You pressed your lips together, glancing up to meet the princess’s eyes. “His wife passed away, Your Royal Highness.”
“I see,” she sighed softly. “That’s a shame.”
You stayed quiet as you continued to fix her dress. You finally rose from the floor, letting out a soft groan as you pulled yourself up. You smiled, admiring your own handiwork on the princess’s back, but her mind seemed preoccupied with something else.
“All finished—”
“I would like for you to tend the gardens today.”
You blinked at the sudden request. “I… the gardens?”
“You fill the vases with the most precious and stunning flowers every morning,” she said with a guileless smile. “So, I am entrusting you to tend the gardens.”
You truly didn’t know what to say.
You had never been ordered to work the grounds before—sure, you might have plucked a stray weed or offered a hand to Alexei when the days in the palace were slow and long, but never like this. That was what a gardener was for.
But knowing Princess Daphne, she couldn’t tell the difference between someone arranging a bouquet and someone maintaining an entire estate.
And you were nothing but a maidservant. How could you refuse, anyway?
“I… yes,” you bowed your head. “It will be done, Your Royal Highness.”
“Wonderful!” Princess Daphne beamed, clasping her gloved hands together as she stepped off the pedestal without your assistance. “I expect the roses to be vibrant and lively once I return from my promenade!”
Once Princess Daphne left her bedroom, you stayed behind to tidy the mess she had left in her wake. When the room was back in order, you made your way down to the gardens.
Outside, the sun was baking the garden soil. Your nostrils were immediately hit with the scent of dirt and blooming jasmines.
You managed to find a pair of old, oversized gardening gloves—likely Alexei’s—in a shed, and after tucking your skirts as best you could, you dropped to your knees before the rosebushes. The work started easy, clearing away small weeds and tossing them into a pile.
But then, a thick rooted weed tucked right at the base of a vibrant red rose was giving you a run for your money.
You gripped it tight, bracing your feet against the stone path, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Come on,” you hissed under your breath, your face heating up from both the sun and the exertion.
With a frustrated huff, you desperately heaved, putting your entire body weight into it. The root finally snapped, but the sudden lack of resistance sent you flying backward. You tumbled through the air like a fool, losing your balance until you landed with a dull thud right in the middle of a freshly turned hydrangea bed.
The Queen’s favorite flower.
You sat there for a moment, stunned, with your legs sprawled out and dirt smeared all over your… toosh.
The heavy clinking of metal hit the stone pavement, stalking closer and closer. Bucky loomed over you, his long hair catching the light from behind as his heavy cape draped over his shoulders. He didn’t offer a hand immediately, wanting to take in the sight of you sprawled out and dirty.
He rested his gloved hand on the hilt of his sword, a slow, devastatingly handsome grin spreading across his smug face.
“Don’t tell me the princess has you working her gardens now.”
You looked around to see if anyone else was near, but it was just him.
“Bucky,” you greeted with a breathless smile. “Don’t tell me the princess has you clearing the garden perimeters.”
Bucky’s grin widened as he extended a hand. When you took it, he lifted you from the dirt with ease.
“If the princess believes there are any threats out here, you can start by eradicating these,” you said, lifting the weed in your hand for emphasis.
He chuckled softly, reaching out to brush away a bit of soil that had caught in your hair.
“No, actually,” he said. “The princess sent for me. She wants me to accompany her on her promenade through town.”
“Oh,” your smile faded slightly. “I see.”
Bucky nodded, standing tall in his armor. All you could think about was how, while the man you loved was out strolling and shopping with the princess, you would be here in the dirt, working far beyond your usual station.
He tilted his head, leaning down slightly to get a better look at your expression. “Is there something troubling you?”
I don’t want you to promenade with the princess, even if it is your job.
I want you to stay here with me instead.
“Nothing,” you lied, forcing a smile as you clutched the weed tighter in your gloved hand. “It’s a lovely day outside for a promenade—I’m sure it’ll be a good change of pace from guarding the palace all day.”
Bucky furrowed his brow, noting the way your shoulders slightly slumped and how your voice had grown quiet. He reached out and caught your hand with his gloved one, running his thumb gently over your knuckles.
“The promenade won’t last forever,” he promised, his eyes searching yours. “And once you’ve finished tucking the Princess into bed, I’ll be posted near the gazebo south of the palace.”
He stepped even closer until his tall frame shadowed yours, the cold metal of his chest piece brushing against your bodice.
“Meet me there,” he whispered, his thumb still tracing slow, gentle circles over your knuckles. “Behind the willow trees. No other knights patrol that far down, and the sound of the water will drown out... everything else.”
Drown out everything else.
You knew exactly what he meant. This wasn’t the first time you two had snuck away past your working hours just to find comfort in each other’s arms.
Bucky’s gaze dropped to your lips for a quick, hungry second before he pulled back just slightly to maintain appearances.
“Tonight, after the moon hits its peak,” he murmured, quiet and low. “Don’t make me wait for you, sweetheart.”
Your heart thumped faster in your chest. Now, the only thing left to do was count the hours until you were in Bucky’s arms again—a thought that made the day drag on far slower, despite the mountains of work piled up before you.
“Tonight,” you repeated with a genuine smile. “I shall be there.”
Bucky smiled softly, satisfied with your answer. “Good—”
“Sergeant Barnes!” the King shouted from across the garden, where he stood by the shade.
Bucky’s body went stiff as a board, his hand instantly dropping from yours as he snapped into a formal salute. You quickly stepped away, desperately brushing the loose soil from your skirts and keeping your head bowed low.
“Your Majesty,” Bucky’s voice lacked the warmth he shared with you just a moment ago.
He moved toward the King, leaving you behind without another glance.
The King didn’t even spare a look at the messy hydrangeas or at you—the dirt smudged maidservant trembling beside them. His eyes were fixed solely on his most trusted knight.
“Sergeant, the Princess is ready for her departure,” the King lectured with authority. “Why are you lingering in the gardens when your charge is waiting at the carriage?”
“My apologies, Sire,” Bucky replied, a mask of stoicism and professionalism taking over him. “I was merely ensuring the perimeter was secure before leaving the grounds. I am headed to the stables now.”
The King gave a curt, stiff nod, though he didn’t look pleased. “See that you are. In these times, the Princess’s safety is paramount. We cannot have our best men distracted by trivialities.”
The King’s gaze flickered momentarily toward you—a cold, passing look that made you feel like nothing more than a piece of garden furniture—before he turned back to Bucky.
“Move along, Sergeant.”
“At once, Your Majesty,” Bucky said.
He turned to leave, but for a split second, while the King’s attention was turned away, Bucky’s gaze broke rank.
Over his shoulder, he stole one last look at you. You were already back on your knees, picking at the weeds, and Bucky’s heart clenched. He wished he could spend his days right next to you.
In his eyes, you shouldn’t be the one picking the flowers, but rather the one receiving them.
But all he could do for now was tear his gaze away and head for the stables.
With the Princess gone and the garden task finally completed, you followed the distant yet familiar sounds of clinking copper and boisterous laughter down into the belly of the palace.
The kitchens were a different world entirely. As soon as you pushed through the heavy doors, the scent of roasting garlic, fresh rosemary, and baking bread enveloped you—a welcome relief, even after being stuck outdoors in the fresh air all morning.
At the center of the room, several maidservants were perched on the edge of the prep tables, their legs swinging as they broke fresh bread and shared it with the kitchen crew.
“Look what the cat dragged in!” Yelena called out, her mouth half full of loaf. She beckoned you over with a sticky hand. “You look like you’ve been rolling in the trenches.”
Natasha looked up from where she was leaning against the counter, a cup of cider in her hand. “And it looks like you didn’t have your knight in shining armor to save you this time.”
“That’s because the Princess is strolling through town today, which means Sergeant Barnes is busy looking after her,” John, one of the cooks, mentioned from across the kitchen, not looking up from his work.
Wanda motioned for you to take the empty seat next to her. “Hours have passed, and the Princess should be returning soon. Eat now, unless you want to wait until midnight.”
Your stomach grumbled as you stepped deeper into the kitchen to claim your spot.
“I’m starving,” you groaned tiredly, sinking into the seat. “What are you all feasting on?” You smiled, taking in the mountain of bread crumbs and various loaves scattered across the table.
Yelena nodded toward the back of the kitchen. “Bob has been locked away by the ovens all morning. He calls it focaccia—” she lifted a piece of the bread, “apparently, it’s all the rage in the southern kingdoms.”
You glanced over to see Bob carefully dimpling the surface of a fresh loaf with his fingers, drizzling it with a generous amount of olive oil and pressing sprigs of rosemary into the dough.
“He’s even made a special companion for it,” John called over his shoulder, “a savory onion and fig jam.”
Wanda slid a small wooden bowl and a thick, airy slice of the bread toward you. The loaf was golden brown and glistening, pockmarked with herbs that smelled divine. The jam was a deep, thick purple that smelled of caramelized sugar.
“Try it,” Wanda encouraged. “It’s much better than the dry biscuits we usually get. He even added a bit of honey to the jam to cut the salt.”
You tore off a piece, dipped it into the jam, and took a bite. It had a satisfying, golden crunch on the outside but remained soft and pillowy on the inside.
“Mmm!” You beamed, eyes widening as you reached for another piece. “Bob—this is delicious! If you’ve been cooking like this all this time, how haven’t I had a taste until now?”
“It’s because you spend most of your free time with Sergeant Barnes rather than us,” Yelena teased, rolling her eyes, which earned her a sharp nudge in the shoulder from Wanda.
Across the kitchen, Bob’s ears turned a shade of pink that you noticed even from your seat.
“Thank you,” he mumbled, keeping his focus fixed on the dough in front of him. “I’ve been trying something new… so I’m glad you like it.”
“Aw, look at that,” Yelena teased, turning her entire body to stare at the baker. “You’ve got Bob all flustered now.”
John snickered, glancing at Bob, whose face only burned a deeper shade of red.
“Careful with that one, Bob,” he warned, pointing his whisk at you. “Getting too close to her will only get the kingdom’s mightiest soldier’s blade pressed against your throat.”
The entire kitchen barked in laughter at John’s comment. You should have been embarrassed by their relentless teasing, but instead, you just felt bad for Bob. The poor man was stammering in the corner, desperately trying to dismiss the attention.
“Hey now,” you called out, focaccia crumbs still clinging to your lips. “Don’t tease the guy. He’s the only one keeping you all fed.”
Laughter still hung in the air, and for a few minutes—away from the pressure of your chores—you were all just a group of friends rather than a squadron of dirty servants.
The enjoyment continued until the melodic tolling of the courtyard bells rang out. In an instant, as if a switch had flipped inside everyone’s head, the boisterous noise died. Everyone scrambled to their feet to collect themselves.
“The promenade is over,” Natasha said, setting her cider down and wiping her hands on her apron. “Back upstairs, girls. Princess Daphne will be expecting us.”
“I didn’t even finish my loaf!” Yelena’s complaints were ignored by everyone else as they hurried toward the doors.
Wanda stood up, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “The Princess will likely want a bath and a change of clothes immediately. Go on—I’ll change her sheets so they’re ready for her to lie down.”
You swallowed your barely chewed bite in one hard gulp. “Right. I’m going.”
On your way to greet the Princess, you collected a set of freshly pressed towels along with various soaps and aromatic oils for her bath.
You scrambled up several flights of stairs, lungs burning, hoping to reach her chambers before she did.
With your heart beating wildly in your eardrums, you rounded the corner and stopped short.
Princess Daphne was already lingering at the entrance of her bedroom, but she wasn’t alone.
Bucky was standing right beside her.
And against your better judgment, you pressed yourself into the shadows of the wall, gripping the wicker basket tight as you listened in.
“My knightly duties do not require me to escort you all the way to your chambers, Your Royal Highness,” Bucky said, his tone formal and polite.
Princess Daphne giggled, pressing a gloved hand to her mouth as she flushed beneath the knight’s gaze.
“Please, when it is just us, you must call me Daphne,” she sighed, her voice drifting into something dreamlike. “Just as I shall call you Bucky.”
You felt your heart drop.
As far as you knew, you were the only one who called him Bucky. It was a name he had reserved for the people closest to him. You knew he had served the palace long before you arrived, but the reminder of the closeness he shared with her was a sting that never failed to make your heart ache.
“Thank you for accompanying me on my stroll through town, Bucky,” Princess Daphne continued, as you winced from behind the corner.
“Of course,” Bucky nodded politely. “With the rising tensions against the Sokovians, it is my duty to put your safety above all else.”
“You always make the gloomy days brighter and the dangers feel so much smaller,” she smiled.
“I am glad to hear that, Your Royal Highness,” Bucky hummed, his gaze flickering to the door of her bedchambers. “Shall I take my leave, then?”
The Princess frowned, her expression turning pouty. “I told you to call me Daphne.” She looked around with a sigh. “And no need—it seems my maidservant has yet to arrive—”
Your feet moved before you could think, and you rounded the corner, acting as if you had just arrived and hadn’t been eavesdropping the entire time.
“I apologize for the wait, Your Royal Highness,” you said, bowing politely with the basket still in your hands. “I made sure the towels were freshly warmed for your arrival. I can prepare your bath right away, if you’re ready.”
Bucky turned toward you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.
“Oh,” Princess Daphne was surprised, her hands folding primly at the front of her dress. “I would like that very much.”
You stood there for a moment with a polite, awkward smile, waiting for the Princess to grant you permission to enter, but she didn’t.
So instead, the three of you remained in a tense, silent standoff.
Bucky’s eyes were fixed on you. His posture was stiff, his gloved hands tightening at his sides as if he were fighting the urge to reach out.
Princess Daphne cleared her throat, glancing at Bucky. “You are dismissed, Sergeant Barnes.”
He didn’t reply immediately—not until the Princess called for him once more, her voice sharper this time. “Sergeant?”
“I… my apologies,” Bucky said, finally turning to face her. He bowed low. “Your Royal Highness.”
He glanced at you, offering nothing more than a short, professional nod. For someone of his rank, it wasn’t customary to acknowledge a maidservant, but as he walked past you, you felt the subtle, intentional graze of his glove against your skirt.
The ghost of his touch made the hair on your arms stand up.
“The bath, then?” Princess Daphne spoke up, snapping you back to attention.
“Yes—of course, Your Royal Highness,” you stammered, scrambling to recover your composure.
You pushed into her bedchambers and moved toward the bathing area, immediately drawing the steaming water.
The Princess followed close behind, peeling off her silk gloves. She didn’t wait for you to ask about her day, as she was already glowing with excitement to recount her afternoon.
“He truly is a marvel, isn’t he?” she sighed, watching the water swirl into the marble basin. “The way the villagers part for him—he has such a presence. Or perhaps it was simply because he was standing beside me. And yet, he was so attentive today. He held my parasol the entire time we crossed the market square without me even having to ask.”
You kept your back to her, focusing on the steam radiating off the tub as your jaw clenched at the image.
“He is a man very dedicated to his duties, My Lady,” you managed to say.
“It’s more than duty,” she countered, her voice drifting into a dreamy haze. “When we stopped by the fountain, he told me that my safety was the only thing on his mind.”
Steam continued to fill the room as the tub rose with nearly scorching water.
You knew, deep down, that Bucky only said those things because it was his job—just as your job was to nod and smile at every word the Princess spoke. But a selfish part of you was seething with jealousy at the thought of anyone else walking by his side.
“Do you think he finds me charming?”
Your eyes widened and the vial of bath oil slipped from your hand, splashing more of the aroma into the water than intended. You turned to look at her, the word “I—” dying on your lips.
“It’s so hard to tell with men like him,” she continued, unlacing her bodice with a sigh. “So stoic. So guarded. But I saw the way he looked at me today!”
There was so much you wanted to say, but the words withered at the sight of her.
Having served her for so long, she had grown comfortable being nearly bare in your presence. As she let her hair fall—the silky blonde locks you had pinned so carefully earlier—her slender, graceful frame made your heart ache.
She was so beautiful, and standing in the same room as someone as beautiful as Princess Daphne felt like a cruel insult to your own heart.
But that was okay, because you would see him tonight. Unlike Princess Daphne, you would see the real version of him—the version of Bucky who gave you nothing but his warmth and his heart.
So, until then, you simply bit your tongue and nodded with a hollow smile.
“It is impossible not to find you charming, Your Royal Highness.”
The night crept on, and while the other maidservants were long asleep, you slipped out of the bedchambers. With quiet, tiptoeing steps, you made your way down the stairs and snuck out the back of the palace toward the gazebo where you and Bucky had agreed to meet.
The night air was cold and breezy, the shawl around your shoulders fluttering in the wind as you treaded through the grass.
Bucky was right—no guards were posted on this side of the palace.
As you sat down, your eyes drifted to the left. Tucked away behind the trees and bushes stood the small cabin where the kitchen crew rested. The lights were out, meaning the cooks were likely all in bed.
While you waited, the only things keeping you company were the hooting of owls and the gentle chirping of crickets.
By now, it was well past midnight, and your earlier excitement was slowly fading into exhaustion.
You found yourself yawning every few seconds, your eyelids growing heavier with each passing minute.
Had Bucky been caught up in other duties?
Had he forgotten?
Or worse—was everything Princess Daphne said true?
Had he realized his heart belonged elsewhere?
An hour had passed, and your heart began to ache the longer you sat alone without a trace of him.
You knew you had to be up early for your morning duties, so with a tired sigh, you pushed yourself off the bench and pulled your shawl tight.
As you stepped down from the gazebo, the sound of crunching grass echoed in the distance. Your eyes snapped open, your heart leaping at the possibility of him finally appearing.
But as the figure stepped into the faint, warm light of the gazebo, your shoulders deflated.
“Bob?” you asked, your voice sounding more disappointed than you intended. “What are you doing out here?”
Bob blinked, looking just as confused as you were. “I stayed behind in the kitchen,” he said, hitching a thumb over his shoulder. “I wanted to perfect the focaccia.” He lifted the loaf, which was carefully wrapped in a white cloth.
He stepped closer into the light, his eyes trailing you up and down. He took note of your thin sleeping gown with nothing but a flimsy shawl to cover the rest of you. Your face warmed in embarrassment as you wrapped the shawl tighter around you, though it salvaged nothing.
“What are you doing out here?” Bob returned the question.
“I’m… um—waiting for someone,” you replied meekly.
Bob glanced around, the crickets filling in the already awkward and suffocating silence when he found no one else near.
“… For how long?”
“I haven’t been out here long,” you lied, only finding yourself more embarrassed being caught in this predicament. “I was just starting to head back, actually.”
Bob pressed his lips together as if he wanted to say something. He knew you weren’t telling the truth, and any worker within the palace could piece two and two together.
Instead of leaving you be, he stepped up into the gazebo to meet you and lifted the loaf in his hands, changing the subject for your comfort.
“I think this is the best loaf I’ve made,” he said, unwrapping the cloth and revealing the gold-crusted focaccia with herbs laced at the top. “Want to share it with me?”
You looked back toward the palace. You really should have gone back inside, knowing just how early you’d have to rise in a few hours to tend to the Princess.
But at the thought of returning to your cold, lonely cot with nothing but the empty promise Bucky left behind, the warmth of a friend didn’t sound bad at all.
“Just for a moment,” you whispered, and Bob smiled gently.
You sat back down on the wooden bench, and Bob settled beside you, careful to maintain a respectful distance. He carefully tore the focaccia in half, the crust crackling over the chirping of the crickets.
“Here,” he said softly, handing you the larger piece. “It’s still warm.”
You took the piece in your hands and bit into it—no jam this time, but the taste was even better than the one you had earlier that day in the kitchen.
It was delicious, and you didn’t even need to shower him with compliments. The satisfied look on your face told Bob everything he needed to know. He smiled, his expression warming as he bit into his own piece.
For a moment, you two just sat there in silence. The only sounds were the crunching of bread and the wind rustling the leaves in the trees. Bob didn’t push for answers or smother you with questions like the girls usually did back in your chambers.
You two just sat there, enjoying each other’s company under the stars.
“You’re an incredible cook, Bob,” you said, gazing up at the dark sky. “I wish people outside of the palace could taste this—it’s exquisite.”
Bob wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his shoulders hunched modestly.
“I told myself that when the war is over, I want to open my own bakery one day.” He looked up at the sky with you. “It’s always been my dream.”
You glanced at Bob. He had such a faraway look in his eyes that your heart could only ache for him.
Sokovian soldiers had been sweeping through the streets, stripping people from their families and tearing down local businesses—wreaking havoc everywhere they went. For the lucky few handselected to work in the comfort of the palace, it was like a dream compared to the world outside.
But even though many workers had aspirations beyond these stone walls, they knew deep down that safety came before all else.
“Well, when you do open up your shop,” you said, nudging him in the shoulder with a reassuring smile, “I’ll be the first one in line.”
Bob smiled at you. “What about you? What do you want to do when the war is over? Will you stay here at the palace?”
“Does anyone actually want to stay at the palace?” you joked, and he chuckled softly.
“No. I want what any other woman would want. I want to get married, have my own family—” Your smile faded slightly at the thought. “Maybe a cottage somewhere deep in the forest, by a river. A place where my husband can go hunting while I stay home with the baby.”
But even if the war ended tomorrow, you knew that future was a ghost.
Even if everything went exactly as planned, the only person you could imagine sharing that life with was Bucky—and he was the Sergeant of the Howling Commandos. They were the elite, the knights specifically curated to guard and protect the royal family at all costs.
He could never leave his post, even if he wanted to.
Bob knew it, too. It was why he didn’t press you with more questions. He simply rested a hand on your shoulder, offering a silent sympathy.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
You forced a smile. “It’s okay.”
Another silence settled between you, the crickets filling the space before Bob sucked in a breath to continue.
“I know you hear this plenty of times,” he started gently, “but you deserve so much better than—”
“Hey!”
A rough voice shouted from across the yard, followed by the sound of heavy boots thumping frantically against the grass. Both of you snapped your heads up, and your breath hitched at the sight of Bucky.
He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days.
He looked angry, his entire body tense, and his left hand—the cold metal of his prosthetic—rested firmly over the hilt of his sword.
Bob scrambled to his feet, hands raised in surrender to show he meant no harm. You quickly stood up beside him.
“James—”
“What the hell are you doing past your post at this hour?” Bucky seethed. He didn’t even look at you—his icy glare was focused entirely on Bob and Bob only.
“I—I was just about to head to bed, sir,” Bob stammered, his hands still raised. “I was just finishing up some work in the kitchen and—”
“Bullshit,” Bucky spat, stepping into the faint light of the gazebo. “All I see is a mere cook who has forgotten his place—a foolish boy who thinks he’s entitled to roam the grounds after dark. You’re a cook, Reynolds. Your duty begins and ends at the stove.”
You winced at his cruelty. You knew Bucky could be rough—it was how he had earned his rank, but Bob didn’t deserve this.
“James, calm down—”
“You will not tell me to calm down, for you are interloping on palace grounds as well,” Bucky snapped, cutting you off so harshly that you flinched.
“I meant no disrespect, sir,” Bob whispered, his voice trembling.
“Then get out of my sight before I decide your presence here is a threat,” Bucky threatened, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. “Back to your hole, baker. Now.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
Bob scrambled down the steps of the gazebo, sparing one last, sympathetic glance over his shoulder before retreating toward the dark cabins. Bucky watched him with a tense jaw, his face twisted in disdain until Bob reached the door and shut it behind him.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Bucky had never spoken to you like that.
Usually, your meetings were filled with the hushed, gentle tones he shared with no one else. But tonight, he spoke to you as if you were just another servant—and that hurt more than his shouting. Instead of running to him for a hug as you usually did, you stayed rooted to the floor of the gazebo, your body tense, unsure of what he would do next.
Bucky slowly turned back to you, his eyes piercing, cold, and completely unwelcoming.
He stepped fully into the gazebo, his gaze trailing down your thin nightgown before landing on the white cloth Bob had left behind on the bench. He picked it up slowly, examining it as if it were evidence of a crime.
“You broke bread with the boy?”
You didn’t dare to speak.
“Answer me,” Bucky commanded.
“I waited for you,” you said instead, your voice trembling.
Bucky fell silent, the cloth in his hands lowering at your quiet admission. For a moment, it seemed as though he had been snapped out of his defensive daze, and you took the opportunity to continue.
“I waited for over an hour,” you said, wrapping the shawl tighter around your body defensively. “I have to rise in merely four hours—you know that. And yet...” Your voice started to shake, your face scrunching as you tried to will away tears. “You stood me up.”
Bucky parted his lips to speak, but you breezed right through him.
“Not only that—but you treated Bob with such blatant disrespect! He’s my friend, and he did nothing but keep me company and feed me!”
Bucky’s eyebrow twitched at that, his voice coming out pettier than he intended. “I didn’t realize that kid was of such importance to you.”
You blinked, your face scrunching at his words. “Don’t tell me,” you scoffed lightly in disbelief. “Are you jealous?”
He made a face. He could deny it all he wanted, but the way his jaw set told you the truth.
“I am many things,” he said stiffly. “But jealous? I am not.”
You crossed your arms over your chest, shaking your head. “Oh, I’m sure.”
“And even if I was,” Bucky stepped closer, invading your space until he was looking down at you. You made no effort to move, standing your ground despite the height difference. “Is that so wrong?”
Your brows furrowed. “Funny for you to say. I heard you had an excellent time being out with the Princess today.”
Bucky’s face became a mask of confusion. “What?”
“About how charming you were,” you said with bitterness. “She said you held her parasol and that you looked at her… differently.”
Bucky let out a dry, humorless rasp of a laugh, running his gloved right hand through his hair.
“Looking at her differently? That’s unbelievable,” he scoffed. “And you know it is my job to do as I am told.” He took another step, his shadow completely looming over you. “And charming, is it? What do you think? Am I charming?”
He was taunting you now, but you refused to let him distract you from the fact that he had stood you up.
“You’re ridiculous, James,” you spat. Your hands tightened on your shawl as you tried to push past him, but he grabbed your arm firmly enough to hold you in place.
“Wait—” he sighed, his shoulders finally easing as the defensive walls came down. “I’m sorry. It was never my intention to stand you up—I swear it.”
He squeezed your arm gently—a silent plea for you to hear him out.
“I was with the General,” he spoke, his voice getting quieter. “The meeting… it went on for hours. There were maps, ledgers, reports from the front. It’s Sokovia. The news is bad, and the King is panicked.”
He met your eyes, and you could finally see the raw regret and exhaustion behind them. “The Sokovian line is breaking through the southern pass. It’s getting worse, and the General is scrambled. He spent three hours arguing over troop placements and supply routes—I… I couldn’t just walk out.”
Bucky tugged on your arm gently, guiding you to face him. His left hand moved to your chin, his thumb stroking your cheek to keep your focus on him as he explained.
“I was supposed to leave tonight. Right after the meeting adjourned, I was ordered on a scouting mission to the front lines. I wouldn’t have even had time to find you to say goodbye.”
Bucky was leaving?
You sucked in a sharp breath, a wave of regret washing over you for being so quick with your accusations.
“But… you’re still here,” you whispered, your eyes searching his.
“I am,” he nodded, tilting his head down to stay in your line of sight. “Rogers and Wilson… they volunteered to take the mission in my stead. They’re out there right now, just so I could be here—with you.”
Bucky’s hands trailed from your face down to your arms, eventually finding your hands and cradling them in his larger palms. He brought your hands up to his face and leaned down, pressing soft, gentle kisses to your knuckles.
“There is never a moment where I’m not thinking of you, and God—the thought of you waiting for me this entire time… I can’t even fathom it,” his voice broke as he pressed another kiss to your skin, looking up at you through his lashes. “I swear to you—I would never leave you alone.”
He stood tall again, releasing one of your hands while his other crept up to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck. He tilted your head back slightly, holding your gaze under the dim gazebo light.
“And as for that outburst earlier…” He exhaled, the sharp edges of his pride finally softening into embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I’ve been on edge, is all. I never meant to take it out on you, my dear.”
Bucky didn’t wait for verbal forgiveness—he took it from the silence and the way you gazed up at him, your eyes softening in the moonlight.
He leaned in, his breath warm against your chilled skin before his lips finally met yours. It was a soft, yet desperate press, a low groan escaping him at the feeling of your warmth against his own.
When he pulled back, it was only to pepper kisses across your forehead, his eyes closed tight as if he were memorizing every inch of you.
“You are a sight for sore eyes,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a gravelly, broken thing.
He kissed your temple, then the tip of your nose, his hands sliding from your hair down to the small of your back to pull you flush against his chest, you shivered from the cold armor. “A beautiful, beautiful sight.”
You sighed softly, your body unable to help but crave his touch—to crave him.
And all Bucky wanted to do was make love to you.
He stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours as he began to remove his armor pieces one by one. You moved to take your shawl off, setting it on the bench behind you as you reached for the straps of your dress.
“No,” Bucky cut you off coldly. “Keep it on. I want to tear through it myself.”
You swallowed hard, your face warming as you obeyed. You stood there, watching him as he watched you with hungry eyes. As he stripped away the layers of leather and steel, his breathing grew heavier. When he reached his belt, his fingers fumbled clumsily for a moment before he stepped back into your space.
He closed the distance again, his lips trailing down the line of your jaw to the sensitive skin of your neck. You let out a shaky breath, your head tilting back to give him better access as his mouth explored you.
“I’ve missed you,” he mumbled, the words muffled against your throat. He began to suckle gently, marking you between words. “God, I’ve missed you so much it hurts.”
“I’ve missed you so much too, Bucky,” you moaned softly. “So much.”
Bucky groaned against your skin, satisfied by your confession as his touches grew needier. His metal hand trembled slightly as it gripped your waist, pulling you so close there wasn’t any space left between you.
He whispered sweet nothings into the crook of your neck, each sentence making you writhe beneath him. “You smell so good.” “You’re so soft.” “So pretty.”
Bucky’s hands were everywhere all at once, a contrast of heat and cold as he explored the curves he had spent all day dreaming about. His flesh hand groped at your hip while his metal fingers seared through the thin fabric of your nightgown, mapping out the expanse of your lower back.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped against your ear. “I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting, my dear. I’m going to make it up to you. I promise.”
Your heart raced as his lips found yours again. His tongue pushed past, sweeping against yours as he kissed you hungrily.
Now stripped of his armor, Bucky pressed his hips forward, and you gasped softly at the feel of him—his cock, thick and hard, straining against his pants as it poked against your lower belly.
Your body already felt so empty without him. There was a building ache between your legs that only he could remedy.
“Bucky,” you sighed softly against his mouth. “I need you.”
“I know, my dear,” Bucky groaned, rolling his hips against your stomach once more, letting you feel just how hard he was for you. “You don’t know how badly I needed you today.”
His hands wandered down to grope your bottom through your dress, bunching the fabric in his fists as he lifted it up past the curve of your ass to squeeze you more.
“Missed your legs wrapped tight around me,” he breathed. “Missed you moaning my name.”
Bucky couldn’t wait any longer.
His strong arms wrapped tight around your body, picking you up and laying you gently on the floor of the gazebo. He spread your legs, nestling himself between them. With a rough hand, he found the hem of your skirt and lifted it past your thighs, exposing your undergarments. He impatiently found the waistband, tugging them down roughly past your legs to expose you to the cool night air and his hungry gaze.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his tongue darting out to wet his lips at the sight of your glistening cunt—already puffy and begging for him, and he hadn’t even put it in yet.
“She missed me, hasn’t she?” he hummed, staring at your pussy as he began palming himself over his pants. He felt pre-cum trickle at the tip, staining the front of his trousers. “Bet I can just slide in so easily. She wouldn’t even put up a fight.”
You watched, breathless, as Bucky pulled himself out of his pants. His cock sprang forth, so thick and so heavy, as pre-cum dripped from the tip and onto the floor.
“Christ,” you said, voicing your thoughts out loud.
Bucky grinned, his flesh hand gripping the shaft as he pumped himself slow and steady. “When was the last time we fucked, sweetheart?”
You swallowed hard, trying to mask your embarrassment at his vulgar words. “I… I don’t know. Nine… ten days ago?”
Bucky hummed. “Haven’t fucked you for a little over a week and you’re already seeking attention from other men, aren’t you?”
Your eyes widened at his words, and you couldn’t help a small, huffing laugh. He really was jealous—and that jealousy only seemed to spur him on, because his cock twitched in his hand as he stroked himself.
“Gotta claim you again,” he mumbled so quietly, it was like he was speaking to himself. “Gotta remind you who you belong to.”
With his metal hand bracing his weight over you, he rubbed his cock up and down your cunt, soaking himself in your juices. Your back arched off the floor, your hips wiggling for more of him, but Bucky only clicked his tongue.
“What an eager little thing,” he taunted.
“Bucky,” you whined, wiggling your hips until your entrance caught his tip. “Pl-please...”
Bucky groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt your warm, wet opening catch around his sensitive tip.
He was so hard it was nearly painful. He had planned to take his time and savor this moment—but with the war in the back of his mind, he felt a desperate, driving need to fuck you as hard and as much as he could while he was still alive.
With a low growl, his hand found the back of your thigh, hiking it up and spreading you wide. With half of his tip already inside, he adjusted himself so he could sink even deeper.
“Goddamn,” he breathed, his muscles straining with the effort it took not to fuck you into the floor right then and there. “Just as I thought—so fucking wet… can just… slide right in.”
You hissed, your hands finding Bucky’s broad, bare back and clawing at the muscle as his thick cock stretched you out with each passing thrust. You could feel him throbbing deep inside you—searingly hot as your cunt welcomed him.
“Mine,” Bucky gritted through clenched teeth as you bottomed out against his pelvis, sheathing him completely.
To him, the feeling of your pussy was like a much needed, warm, tight hug after a long, stressful day.
“Ten days,” he breathed against your ear. “Ten fucking days—don’t think I’m gonna last long inside you, baby.”
“Don’t care,” you mumbled, wrapping your legs tight around his waist. “I just want to feel you, Bucky. Every inch of you.”
Bucky groaned, his flesh hand sliding up to your neck and applying pressure. He held your gaze, his eyes dark and blown out with lust, as he began rocking his hips back and forth. He moved slowly and sensually, forcing you to feel every swollen pulsing ridge and vein.
The sound of your pussy squelching around him filled the quiet gazebo. The mating press position made you feel utterly helpless—completely and devastingly stuffed.
“Oh my—Buck, too… too much.”
“Too much?” he repeated raspily, staring deep into your eyes as he continued to fuck you slow. “But sweetheart, this is me taking my time with you. You’ve taken harder.”
“I know,” you winced, your legs squeezing him tighter. “It’s just been… ten days—”
“Ten days and you’ve already gotten so tight for me again,” he murmured, his pace increasing. “Means you haven't been fucking anyone else.”
Your face burned as you stammered, “Of course not—”
The words that left your lips made Bucky’s heart soar and his cock pulse.
With a sharp exhale, he increased the pace. His thrusts slapped harder and deeper, making you bounce against the floor as you clung to him. The wet, vulgar sound of his skin hitting yours echoed under the gazebo roof, a testament to his hunger for you.
Bucky looked down at you, taking in the sight of your dress hiked up and ruined, your hair fanned out across the floor. You looked so beautifully destroyed, and something in him only wanted to ruin you more.
“Jesus,” he muttered, his blue eyes trailing down to where your bare hips tilted to meet him. He watched in awe as his cock disappeared in and out of you, his shaft slick.
“You look so good like this,” he rasped, his metal hand digging into your thigh to spread you even wider. “Sprawled out for me. Mine. Just mine.”
Bucky leaned in, his teeth grazing your exposed shoulder as his movements became sloppier and uneven.
“Seeing you like this always makes it so damn hard to leave,” he rasped against you, his balls growing heavier with each thrust. “Makes me want to do things to make sure you stay.”
You were a babbling mess beneath him, your voice reduced to broken sobs and incoherent pleas. You couldn’t even form words anymore, just soft, high pitched whimpers that only made Bucky’s grip on you tighten.
“I want to breed you,” Bucky confessed shamelessly. “Wanna give you a piece of me—so when I’m out there fighting, or when you’re away from me, you’ll still have me. I want to pump you so full that you’ll always be carrying a part of me.”
You body clenched at the implication of his words. He groaned at your tightness, gritting his teeth as he continued.
“Need to…” Bucky thrust deep, “pump you full…” He felt his balls growing tighter, felt himself getting closer. “Going to have to make you my girl for good.”
Your eyes rolled back as Bucky used your body for his pleasure. He was so much bigger than you, so much stronger, and all you could do was be the woman he needed as he fucked himself into you. You moaned, your body getting wetter and tighter as you felt yourself getting close.
The gazebo and the starlit sky above started to blur as tears prickled your eyes from the overwhelming sensation of being fucked.
“You like that?” Bucky breathed warmly against your skin. “You like the idea of being full of me? Of my own seed... dripping down your pretty legs?”
Your head was spinning as you nodded frantically.
“Yes!” you cried out. “Yes, Bucky—please! I’m yours… all yours—I want to be full of you!”
“Fuck,” Bucky moaned. With your hands still tight around his shoulders, he circled both his arms around your waist, lifting you from the ground and pulling you flush against his chest.
He repositioned you until you were straddling his lap, held aloft by his strength alone. Bucky’s arms wrapped tight around your body—the scent of sweat and sex mingling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
“Bounce on it, baby,” he muttered roughly. “Fuck—bounce on me ‘til I cum.”
Your fingers laced through his long, dark hair, giving it a tug as you fucked yourself down onto his cock.
Bucky groaned, his head pressing into your shoulder as his hands moved from your waist to your hips, his thumbs digging into your skin to help guide your rhythm. Every time you moved down, he met you with a hard thrust upward that sent sparks through your body.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he rasped, his eyes fluttering shut as you began to quiver and squeeze around him. “Just like that.”
“Bucky… I’m—I’m going to—”
“I know, baby,” he rasped, holding you tighter against his chest. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”
I’m not going anywhere.
“D-don’t go,” you whimpered against him, your body tightening as you clenched around his cock, letting yourself unravel all over him.
Bucky growled, low and deep in his throat, as his arms pinned you tight against his chest. With one last rough thrust deep into your cunt, he finally broke.
Thick spurts of cum surged from him as he began pumping you full. He slowly rocked his hips in gentle motions, letting his seed settle and mix inside the heat of your body.
“Good girl,” he praised with a gravelly rasp. “My sweet, precious girl.”
You let yourself melt into his touch as you two fought to catch your breaths.
Still perched on his lap, you felt him nuzzle his face into your chest, his hands roaming your back gently, mapping every inch of you as he came down from his high.
“So perfect,” he mumbled.
You looked down at him through your lashes, and the sight of him made your heart ache. You wanted to stay like this forever—with Bucky always by your side, holding you and making sweet love to you while he praised you with gentle words you wouldn’t want to hear from anyone else.
He told you he wasn’t going anywhere in the heat of the moment, but even you knew he could only mean so much.
“I don’t want you to go,” you said, your voice broken as you were reminded of his duties after tonight. “Please, just stay with me.”
Bucky let out a long, heavy sigh, his grip on you softening tenderly. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his thumb gently brushing away the sweaty strands of hair that clung to your face.
He didn’t pull out, he stayed joined to you, his cock still half hard and soft inside, wanting to keep that connection for as long as the world would allow.
“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I know.”
He began to press soft kisses all over your face— your damp forehead, your cheeks, and your lips.
The reality was that after tonight, Bucky would have to be posted at the front lines along with his comrades, Steve and Sam. He would have to ready his blade, preparing for war at any given moment to lay his life down for a royal family instead of living on for the woman he loves.
But instead of letting that feeling take over, he gently pushed your hair back, looking deep into your eyes.
“Right now, let’s just enjoy the moment,” Bucky murmured gently, caressing your cheeks. “Me and you—we’re together now, and that’s all we can ask for, right?”
He spoke so soft, but you knew deep down he was feeling that hurt just as much as you were. You nodded, forcing a shaky smile despite the tears that threatened to escape.
“Right,” you whimpered.
“Don’t cry,” Bucky sighed softly, his thumb coming up to wipe the tear that spilled anyway, before leaning in to press another kiss to your lips. “I’m right here, baby. Right here.”
The sounds of crickets, soft breathing, and the gentle rustle of leaves filled the gazebo as you two held each other. His hands trailed down to your waist, his thumb rubbing gentle circles over the fabric of your crinkled nightgown.
“When the war is over,” you brought up carefully and quietly. “Do you think we’ll have a chance to be together?”
Bucky went still for a moment before a small, hopeful smile tugged at his lips—he didn’t have high hopes at all, but the smile you returned meant it was enough to reassure you.
“In a perfect world, where there is no war and no duties to bind us separately, I’ll always choose you.”
The sun that rose the next morning was the brightest it had ever been that month.
You found yourself in a happier mood, and everyone around you could tell.
“What’s she smiling about over there?” Wanda asked as she folded freshly washed white cloth.
“What do you think?” Natasha grinned, watching out of the corner of her eye as you hummed to yourself, handwashing towels.
“She’d usually be complaining about her back by now,” Yelena chimed in. “But she’s just singing to herself like some mentally deranged—”
“I can hear you all, you know,” you said over your shoulder without looking back. You pushed off your seat with a groan, stretching before you lifted the bucket of dirty water in your hands.
“I’m going to dump this outside,” you announced to the rest of the group. “Maybe bask in the sun for a bit—who knows. It’s a pretty day.”
“Okay, but don’t be long,” Natasha called out as she pushed the tower of folded clothes to the side to work on the next batch. “We have a lot to do today.”
“I won’t,” you reassured as you pushed the door open with your back, heading out of the cleaning chambers and into the warm sunlight.
As you dumped the water out onto the grass, birds chirped and the trees rustled gently in the spring breeze. Bucky was out there, somewhere, huddled in formation with the other knights as they scouted south of the kingdom.
After last night, Bucky had told you how he and the others had a mission that required them to be on their horses before sunrise. But later that night, he would meet you at the gazebo again.
He was the kingdom’s strongest soldier, and you knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself. But every time Bucky was out on a mission, you couldn’t help but pray for his safety.
You always hoped that he would return home without a scratch, falling back into your arms once again.
You gathered the empty, damp bucket and reached for the door, but you stopped short at the sound of horns blaring from the top of the guard posts.
Your head snapped up immediately at the unexpected sound.
Was this a drill?
The kingdom hadn’t made any announcements for a drill today—unless you had missed it?
As you raised your hand to shield your eyes, squinting past the sun, you saw the frantic movement of the soldiers at the top of the towers. The distant shouting was getting louder, and you watched in confusion as they began to ready their crossbows.
“Sokovian flags on the horizon!”
“Soldiers are pushing back from the southern bridge!”
“Alert the town! Citizens to the shelters! Get down!”
Your ears rang as everyone around you scattered in a frantic, panicked hurry. The horns continued to blare, crying out a symphony of war and ruin. Palace workers ran around, bumping into you as they retreated toward the safety of the cleaning rooms you had just stepped out of.
You knew you should run. You should follow them into the dark, stone safety of the cellars.
But the only thing you can think of was the southern bridge.
That was exactly where Bucky was stationed.
A hand clamped onto your arm, making you wince and snapping you out of your haze.
“Are you trying to get killed?” she hissed over the bustle of the crowd. Natasha yanked you backward, dragging you into the sanctuary of the cleaning chambers.
Inside, the room was unrecognizable. The neat stacks of folded white linens had been toppled and trampled underfoot. Buckets were overturned, soapy water slicking the floor as servants and workers scrambled toward the trapdoor leading to the deep cellars.
“Oh my god,” you breathed. “How—”
“They’re saying they’ve already made it inside,” Natasha yelled over the noise. “Sokovian spies were already within the kingdom just yesterday—soldiers are barging right into the palace as we speak.”
You felt your blood run cold.
Sokovian soldiers were already threatening to tear down the palace, and the kingdom’s strongest soldier wasn’t there to protect it.
“Where are the others? Yelena? Wanda? Bob—”
Natasha led you toward the trap door, cutting you off. “They’re already inside—”
The doors of the cleaning chamber shattered inward before she could even finish.
Sokovian soldiers stomped through, their armor dark and their weapons already leveled. “Clear the room!” one of them shouted, and before you knew it, the sharp crack of muskets and the whistle of crossbow bolts filled the air, splintering the wooden tables around you as the others screamed.
“Down!” Natasha screamed, shoving you to the floor as a projectile embedded itself in the wall where your head had been seconds before.
“To the back doors,” you hissed at her, pointing behind her. “Quick!”
She nodded, ducking behind you as you both scrambled for the exit. You burst out into the rear garden, the air already suffocating with smoke from gunshots and the sounds of people shouting over one another.
“The grapevines,” you shouted, pointing to the heavy wooden trellis that led to the outer wall. “We can climb over and reach the forest. The trees are thick enough to give us cover—”
Natasha didn’t let you finish before she grabbed your arm, already running in the direction you had pointed. “Let’s go, then!”
As you ran, a sharp crack sounded from your right. Natasha let out a choked gasp, her body crumpling as her leg buckled and blood blossomed through her skirt.
“Nat!”
You turned back, reaching out to grab her arm, but the world suddenly turned into a blinding flash of white.
A cannonball screamed through the air, striking the stone archway just above you. The impact was nearly enough to deafen you—a force strong enough to throw you backward.
You hit the ground hard, the air driven from your lungs.
Everything went silent, replaced by a high pitched ringing in your ears that drowned out the war. Dust and debris rained down, coating your tongue in grit and stinging your eyes. Through the haze of gray smoke and broken stone, you tried to move, but your limbs felt heavy.
You felt yourself deteriorating, the sounds fading in and out as your vision began to blur.
A concussion set in, your head aching and your body going numb while the world around you began to crumple and fall apart.
“Get the Princess to safety!” the kingdom’s soldiers shouted over the noise. “Go, Sergeant!”
Your head throbbed with an ache as you craned your neck, struggling to see the what was unraveling in front of you.
Through the thick dust, a familiar silhouette broke through the haze.
It was Bucky—his armor and silver blade flashing through the smoke. Following close behind him, a figure huddled low — the Princess, disguised under a dirty, oversized cowl to conceal her identity.
Ah, there he was.
Your heart thumped weakly in your chest as a strange, hollow peace settled over you.
Bucky was alive. Your Bucky.
He was alive, and he was protecting the princess.
You smiled faintly, and though your heart ached to reach for him, you knew it was futile. You couldn’t even feel your legs anymore, pinned beneath the heavy stone debris. The blood pooling around you was enough to tell you that the end was near.
But at the very least, in this moment as the war claimed you, you knew the person you loved was still standing.
And that was all that mattered.
In the chaos, amidst the smoke and the screaming, Bucky caught sight of you out of the corner of his eye.
His entire body froze. The soldier who never hesitated, the very man who served as the kingdom’s ultimate sword and shield, went completely still.
His blue eyes widened, locking onto your broken form, taking in the blood, the dust, and the way you struggled to even lift your head.
Any other soldier would have seen your body and deemed it a lost cause, a life not worth the delay. But for Bucky, every duty was forgotten as his feet began to move—away from the Princess, and toward you.
“Sergeant Barnes! What the hell are you doing? Get back in formation!”
“Barnes! Get over here! Protect the Princess!”
“The Princess is exposed! Cover!”
“Barnes!”
Several commanding voices roared after him, but Bucky didn’t look back. He didn’t care about the crown or the certain court martial that awaited him, or even the noose.
All he cared about was you.
Heavy footsteps thundered near your head, and for a moment, you feared it was a Sokovian guard coming to finish the job. They dropped to their knees beside you, and trembling hands cradled your neck to lift you up.
“No, no, no,” it was Bucky who rasped, his voice frantic as he wiped the dirt from your face. “Hey… hey, look at me. Open your eyes, sweetheart. It’s me—stay with me. Come on, stay with me.”
You tried to speak, but all that emerged was a soft, wet cough.
His thumb brushed the dust from your cheek, leaving streaks in its wake, while his blue eyes searched yours for any sign that you were still there.
“Bucky…” you whispered, the sound barely audible over the roar of the nearby fire.
“I’ve got you,” he choked out, leaning his forehead against yours. He ignored the shouting soldiers and the Sokovian arrows whistling overhead. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere—you have to stay. You have to stay awake for me.”
He began to pull at the debris with a desperate strength, refusing to let the world take the only thing he cared about.
“I can’t—I can’t move my legs,” you choked out, your body feeling useless as he tried to lift you.
He was finally able to pull you free and cradle you in his arms, lifting you bridal style as he ran. You didn’t know where he was going, nor did you care. All that mattered was being here, held by the person you loved most.
“Just stay awake, okay? Promise me you’ll stay awake.”
“Bucky—”
“We’ll get you somewhere safe—I swear it—”
“Bucky,” you tried again, your voice a soft, fragile thread.
As he ran, Bucky tilted his head down to glance at you, his eyes searching yours to make sure you were still there.
“I love you,” you whispered suddenly.
Bucky’s stride faltered for just a moment as a choked, broken sound escaped his throat.
For a second, the face of the stoic soldier crumbled, and his eyes grew glossy with tears that threatened to spill over. But he forced his jaw to tighten—forced himself to get back into that same resolve that kept him alive til now.
“No,” he rasped, his voice hardening from vulnerability to a command. “Don’t say that. Not yet. You don’t get to say goodbye.”
He pushed himself faster, his boots skidding over the blood slicked stone of the courtyard as he dodged the falling debris of the palace.
“You save that,” he muttered, his breath hitching as he ducked behind a crumbling stone pillar to avoid a spray of Sokovian arrows. “You save those words for when we’re back at the gazebo—you save them for when the sun is up and there isn’t a drop of blood on this grass. Do you hear me?”
He looked down at you again, anticipating a response—anything to show that you were still alive—but your breathing was growing labored in his grip.
“I’m not letting you go,” he promised. “You hold on to me, and don’t you dare close those eyes.”
Bucky continued to run, and the world around you was nothing but a darkened blur.
The sounds started to grow distant, and in this moment, even on the verge of death, at least you were held by Bucky once more.
Bucky kept his promise—and more.
Even in a world that wasn’t perfect, bound by duties that often kept you both far apart, in the end, he would always choose you.
thank you to the anon for that lovely request and for entrusting me to write it. if you've made it this far, as always thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. interactions are always appreciated, I love reading every bit of them!
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Ooo hii can I please request a Max x fem! Reader where she’s a waitress or bar tender in the fancy hotel that max and sandra are doing their first con on that rich man. While Sandra is starting that con at the bar, another guy keeps bothering Y/n and maybe throws his drink at her and Max steps in and stands up for her and he ends up conning that man too in retaliation 🥺 He comes back later and tips Y/n a lot of money (with the money he conned from the man that harassed her, she doesn’t know that though) and he becomes a regular at this hotel bar/restaurant and eventually asks her out on a date. She doesn’t know he’s a conman until they start getting serious and he tells her, she’s mad at first that he lied and that he’s a criminal but she loves him so much that she wants to forgive him, she just needs reassurance that he is not just conning her, she’s worried their whole relationship is just a big con🥺
Would Never Do That To You » Max Burnett
Pairings: Max Burnett x Bartender!Female Reader
Summary: Max steps in and stands up for you when a guy at the hotel bar you work at won’t stop bothering you and then he becomes a regular and later he asks you out. Although, you can’t help but wonder if he’s going to con you too, but he assures you that he’ll never do that.
Warnings: Angst, Fluff, language, alcohol, customer bothering reader and throws drink at her, punching, tiny bit of blood, slapping, crying, kissing, pet names
A/N: @kpopgirlbtssvt thank you for the lovely request🩵
Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes
Header made by my friend🩵 / divider made by me
GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator
Max and Sandra are about to do a con on a rich man at the hotel bar you work as a bartender at. As they you were tending to customers and wiping down the bar, there was one guy who kept bothering you. He has a drink. You’re not sure what he could possibly want.
“Hey, lady!” The guy keeps calling out.
You sighed to yourself before going over to the guy for the twentieth time in ten minutes it feels like.
“Yes, sir. What can I get you?” You asked politely.
“For starters, you can get me another drink.” The guy says, shaking an empty glass in your face.
It took everything in you to not snatch it, but you’re going to be the bigger person. Someone had to be.
“Coming right up.” You say.
You went back to the bar and got him another drink and took it to him.
“Would you like anything else?” You asked.
“No.” He says.
As you were about to walk away and go back to work, the guy grabs your wrist.
“Let go of me.” You say.
“No, I don’t think I will.” He says.
You used all of your strength to yank your wrist out of his hand, which worked. You didn’t like the look on his face after you did that. He looked like he was going to beat your ass or worse. He grabs the glass and throws his drink in your face. You gasped loudly and looked down at your shirt that’s not wet with alcohol. You ran off to the bathroom to clean up and dry off.
“Get me another drink while you’re at it!” The guy shouts at you.
Max saw everything. He felt bad for you. He told Sandra to go ahead and do the con without him and he’ll catch up with her. He walks over to the guy who’s been bothering you since he got there. He taps on his shoulder to get his attention.
“What the hell do you want?” The man asks, sounding annoyed.
Max didn’t say a word. He just punches the guy in his face, giving him a bloody nose.
“What the hell, man?!” The guy exclaims, holding his bloody nose.
“You think it’s ok to treat a woman like that?” Max asks.
“She was being lazy.” The guy says.
“She was not. She was doing her job and being attentive to the customers here. You had no right to throw your drink at her.” Max says.
“She deserved it.” The guy says.
“No, she didn’t it.” Max says.
The guy goes to say something else, but he groans in pain instead.
“I think you broke my nose!” The guy said.
“Be lucky that I didn’t knock your teeth out, which is what I’ll do if you bother that woman again.” Max says.
“Are you threatening me?” The guy asks.
“No. Consider it a warning. Now, get the hell out of here before I change my mind and knock your teeth out right now.” Max says.
The guy scoffs and goes to a different area of hotel that’s not the bar or his hotel room. Max saw the room key to the guy’s hotel room on the floor. He picked it up and put it in his pocket. He grins as an idea popped into his head as he walked away. First, he wants to check on you. He went to the bathroom you’re in. He could hear you crying before he knocked on the bathroom door.
“Ma’am, are you ok?” Max asks through the door after knocking on it.
“I’m fine.” You say, your voice cracking.
“Can I come in?” He asks.
You took a look around the bathroom to make sure there was no other women in it before answering him.
“Yes.” You say.
Max opens the door and walks over to you. Your eyes are red from crying and your shirt is wet with alcohol.
“I saw what happened. I wanted to make sure you’re ok.” Max says softly.
“I’m fine.” You say again.
“Are you sure?” He asks.
“Yes. You’re so sweet for checking on me.” You say.
Max gives you a smile and puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.
“Let me know if you need anything.” Max says.
“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? After all, I’m the bartender and you’re the customer.” You say with a smile.
“You looked like you needed a friend.” He says.
“You’re so sweet.” You say.
Max gives you another smile before walking towards the bathroom door. He stops and turns around before opening the door.
“My name is Max, by the way.” Max introduces himself.
“My name is Y/N.” You introduced yourself.
“It’s nice to meet you.” He says.
“You too.” You smiled.
Max left the bathroom and went to the elevator. He looked at the room key to the guy’s hotel room, grinning to himself again. Max found the guy’s hotel room, using the key to unlock it. He walks into the room and goes to the guy’s bag. He goes through it, finding $5,000 in it. He took all of it, putting the money in his pocket. He tossed the hotel key on the bed to make it look like that the guy left his key in his hotel room. Then he caught up with Sandra.
“I was wondering when you were going to catch up with me.” Sandra says.
“I wanted to check on the bartender that asshole threw his drink at.” Max says.
“Is she ok?” She asks.
“She says she is, but she looked upset. She was cleaning up in the bathroom when I checked on her.” He says.
“I hope she’s ok. She seems like a nice person.” She says.
“Me too.” He says.
Max and Sandra continued on with their con and then went back to the hotel bar. You were back behind the bar when they went back to their seats. Actually, Max went over to the bar to give you a tip. A tip meaning, some of that guy’s money.
“I wanted to give you a tip.” Max says, getting the guys money out of his pocket.
“You don’t have to. Your kindness is a tip enough.” You say.
“I want to. Besides, you deserve it after what happened a little bit ago.” He says.
Max counts out some money and gives half of it to you. You counted it and gasped softly.
“This is $2,500.” You say.
“Like I said, you deserve it. You’re a hard worker.” He says.
You two smiled at each other as he walked back to his table. As a thank you, you got both him and Sandra a drink and took it to them.
“These are on the house and a thank you for checking on me a little bit ago.” You say.
“Thank you.” Both of them say.
“You’re welcome.” You say.
You gave Max another smile as you walked back to the bar.
That wasn’t the last time you saw Max. You saw him a lot after that night. He became a regular and keeps giving you big tips. He comes by the hotel day and night.
“There’s my favorite bartender.” Max greets you as he sits down at the bar counter.
“There’s my favorite customer.” You greeted him with a smile.
You got his usual drink and placed it on the bar counter in front of him.
“How is my favorite customer today?” You asked.
“I’m doing good. How are you?” He asks.
“I’m doing good. My day brightened up when you walked in.” You smiled.
“Mine too.” He smiles back.
Max is the sweetest man you’ve ever met. Your day always brightens up when you see him. He tips you big tips like he did the night he met you. You always tell him that he doesn’t have to do that, but he wants to. He thinks you deserve it, in which you do. You’re a hard worker after all.
“You look beautiful today.” Max compliments.
“Even in my work uniform?” You asked.
“Yes.” He says.
“Well, thank you.” You smiled. “You look handsome today as well.” You complimented.
“Thank you, but you and I both know that you’re the one who has all of the beauty.” He says.
“How about we agree to disagree?” You say.
“I’m fine with that.” He says.
You got Max another drink after he finished his first one. You also got him something to eat.
“I thought you might be hungry. I got you my favorite.” You say, placing a plate that has a burger and fries on it.
“Well, aren’t you sweet.” Max says.
“I’m just returning the favor like you did for me the other night.” You smiled.
“Someone had to stand up to that asshole for you.” He says.
“I’m glad you did. Thank you again for doing that.” You say.
“Anytime, sweetheart.” He says.
The more Max comes by to visit you at work, the more flirty he gets. He always compliments you. He knows exactly how to make you smile and blush. Today, he’s going to ask you out on a date.
“How about I take you out on a date?” Max says.
“I like the sound of that. My day off is Saturday.” You say.
“Great. It’s a date. I’ll pick you up at 7pm.” He says.
“It’s a date.” You smiled.
When Saturday night finally came, Max arrived at your house at 7pm on the dot. He showed up with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.
“You’re so sweet.” You smiled, kissing his cheek.
“I thought you might like them.” Max says.
“I do like them.” You say.
You put the bouquet of flowers in a vase of water and then you and him went on yours and his first date.
“Where are we going?” You curiously asked.
“That’s for me to know and for you to be surprised.” Max says.
“Whatever it is, I bet it’s going to be amazing.” You say.
“It is.” He says.
Max took you to a fancy restaurant for yours and his first date and it indeed surprised you. You loved everything about your date with Max, especially how much of a gentleman he was all night. You think he’s just the sweetest man alive. You and him got to know each other on the date, except that he didn’t tell you that he’s a con man. He knows he should tell you the truth, but he doesn’t want you to leave him. Even though it’s still early into yours and his relationship, you two definitely felt a spark. You two felt that spark the first time you guys met the other night. After the date, Max walked you to the door of your house like a gentleman.
“I had an amazing time tonight.” You say.
“So did I.” Max says.
You and Max quickly got lost in each other’s eyes. He brings a hand up to your cheek, gently caressing it. His other hand rests on your waist. Then he leans in and kisses you softly and passionately. The kiss took yours and his breath away.
“Goodnight.” Max almost whispers.
“Goodnight.” You almost whispered.
You and Max had huge smiles on yours and his faces the rest of the night. The dates didn’t stop there. You guys go out on dates every Saturday night. Not only that, he spoils you by buying you flowers and jewelry, which you think is so sweet. He even surprises you with little presents when you’re at work too.
“What’s in the bag?” You curiously asked.
“Why don’t you come here and find out.” Max says flirtatiously.
You walked out from behind the bar and walked over to Max. You opened the bag and saw a long velvet box. You took it out of the bag and opened it, gasping softly when you saw a beautiful gold necklace.
“Max, this is beautiful.” You say softly.
“It’ll look even more beautiful on you.” He says softly.
Max takes the necklace out of the long velvet box and puts it around your neck.
“This is my way of asking you to be my girlfriend.” He says.
“Really?” You asked.
“Only if you want to be.” He says.
You smiled widely and kissed him softly and passionately. Max smiles against your lips and he took that kiss as a yes.
“Does that mean we’re official now?” He curiously asks.
“Yes.” You say softly, kissing him again.
Months go by since you and Max made it official. Everything is going great between you and him. He spoils you more now than he did before. He also still visits you at work and you two go on dates every weekend. You live with him now too.
Today, Max was supposed to visit you at work, but something came up. He texted you and told you that he can’t visit you at work today, which you completely understand, but he didn’t tell you what came up. What came up was something that has to do with a con that he has to discuss with Madeline. She was still there when you got off of work. You two stared at each other after you walked into yours and Max’s apartment.
“Who are you?” Madeline asks rudely.
“I’m Y/N. I’m Max’s girlfriend.” You say.
Madeline laughs out loud, which made you furrow your eyebrows.
“What’s so funny?” You asked confused.
“You saying that you’re Max’s girlfriend.” She says.
“I am.” You say.
“No, you’re not. He would’ve said something about having a girlfriend.” She says.
Max kept you away from cons. He didn’t want you to find out or get hurt in anyway. Now, the truth has to come out.
“She is my girlfriend, Madeline.” Max says.
“Does she know about you being a con man?” Madeline asks.
“Con man? Baby, what’s she talking about?” You asked confused.
“Oops. That’s my cue to leave.” She says.
As Madeline was leaving, she stopped in the doorway.
“Your relationship with Max isn’t going to last long. It’s only a matter of time until he takes your money and leaves you.” Madeline says.
“Get the hell out of here!” Max yells at her.
Madeline chuckles and closes the door.
“Please tell me what she said isn’t true, Max.” You say.
“Part of it is true.” Max says.
“Which part? That you’re a con man or that you’re going to take my money and leave me?” You asked.
“I am a con man.” He says.
Your eyes teared up. You weren’t sure what to saw now. You thought that everything was going great with you and Max, but apparently, he left out a detail about what kind of job he has. You went to yours and his bedroom to pack a bag. Max followed you.
“Baby, wait. Where are you going?” Max asks.
“I can’t stay with you tonight.” You say.
“Please let me explain.” He says, gently grabbing ahold of your arm.
You yanked your arm out of his hand and slapped his across his face.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” You almost growled.
Max takes a few steps back, giving you some space.
“How could you do this to me? You had all this time to tell me, but instead, I had to find out from that woman!” You say, tears streaming down your face.
“I’m sorry.” He apologizes.
“Save your apologies. I don’t want to hear it right now.” You say.
You picked up your bag and left yours and his apartment. Max feels nothing but guilt and anger right now. He never meant to keep something like this from you and upset you.
“God damn it!” Max shouts.
You got a room at the hotel you work at. You stayed there for a few days. Max has blown up your phone with calls, voicemails, and texts, but you didn’t answer a single one. You kept ignoring him. The only way to get you to talk to him is him showing up at the hotel, which is what he exact did.
“Hi, baby.” Max greets you softly.
“I’m working, Max.” You say, not making eye contact with him.
“I know. All I need is 5 minutes. Please.” He says.
You inhaled deeply and gave in. You took him to your hotel room so you and him can talk privately.
“Talk.” You say, cracking your arms over your chest.
“I am so sorry, baby. I should’ve told you about me being a con man. I just didn’t want you to leave me or you to get hurt. I’m scared of losing you. Please believe me when I say how sorry I am.” Max says softly and sincerely.
“I thought everything with us was going great, but I guess I was wrong.” You say.
“Everything is going great with us.” He says.
“It’s not when you don’t tell me everything. We don’t keep secrets from each other, Max.” You say.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner. Please forgive me.” He says.
“I do forgive you, Max.” You say.
Max smiles and walks closer to you to kiss you, but you backed away from him, which confused him. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’s going to con you and leave you.
“I’m going to ask you a question and I want your honest answer.” You say.
“Ok.” Max says, wondering what you’re going to ask him.
“Are you going to con me and leave me?” You asked.
“No, of course not. I would never do that to you. I love you too much to do that.” He answers honestly, assuring you.
“Are you sure? That woman seemed pretty damn sure of it.” You say.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’m not going to con you and leave you, baby. I promise. Madeline only said that to get under your skin.” He says.
“Ok. That’s all I wanted to hear.” You say.
His assurances made you feel better. This time when Max walked towards you, you didn’t back away from him. He kisses you passionately.
“I missed you so much.” Max says softly.
“I missed you too.” You say just as softly.
“Does this mean you’re coming home?” He asks.
“Yes.” You smiled.
Max smiles and kisses you softly.
“I have a question to ask you too.” Max says.
“What is it?” You curiously asked.
Max takes a small velvet box out of his pocket and gets down on one knee. You gasped when he opened the small velvet box, revealing a beautiful diamond ring.
“I can’t imagine my life without you. I love you more than anything. Will you marry me?” Max asks.
“Yes!” You happily answered.
Max smiles and slides the ring on your finger. He stands back up and kisses you passionately. You two smiled against each other’s lips.
“I love you so much, baby.” He says softly.
“I love you too, sweetie.” You say softly.
Even though you and Max had a bump in yours and his relationship, you and him still wouldn’t trade it for the world. You two love each other more than anything and that’s all that matters.
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