Howdy! Just your average connoisseur and collector of fan fictions. My fave fics du jour are Bucky x Reader (5ever), FitzSimmons, whatever dystopian novel that has been turned in to a movie, and any excellent romance! Feel free to ask me things or talk to meeee
actually re: the artful dodger belle and jack should be bigger hits here on tumblr because the number of scenes they have sexual tension while doing surgery on someone actively bleeding under their hands is absurd. they had their first kiss over an operating table with a guy on it. like he tells her to cut into the guy and she gets so excited and turned on by the fact that she's getting to do surgery they kiss. they're such little freaks and they're doing wonders for little freaks representation.
i have this terrifying issue where i can’t understand why i like all three of alina’s partners in the show:
mal is just wholesome and increasingly fleshed out as a caring and selfless character with logic and his own belief in living a good life. alina to him is more than a partner or a saint, she’s just alina. protects her because she is apart of who he is, his nature. loves her for not her ambition or belief but her care and the love she carries. for her bravery. it’s a “you have a piece of my soul in the palm of your hand” type of thing.
aleksander’s a product of choices which he made out of pain, devolving into a monster who manipulates, lashes out and calculates inhumanely. to only have a connection and vulnerability in hundreds of years with the one person (alina) who knows what it’s like to have this power, to be feared and hated. he has this respect for her resolve and i think he genuinely does love and care for her even though he fails at this. you can see that he is lost to his trauma and notions. i wish they met in another time, because if given the chance, it’d be a “you make me lose my mind and help me find my thoughts” type of thing.
then nikolai who is comedic and a lost individual who feels a great need to help people but struggles with being good enough for his post. he cares deeply about correcting his family’s sins and his country’s wounds. he is just as giving, even when he’s falling in love with this saint who is so similar to him in principle and belief. alina is honest and open with him, as he is to her. a weight to bring peace to a nation rests on their shoulders and i think they help each other carry it. like a “we hold each other up and end up holding each other for too long” kind of thing.
Good to know I’m not the only one just sitting back and enjoying the ride because I straight up love all three of these men for her as they’ve set it up in the show! obviously it’s different from the books but - dare I say I like this more? *holds up arms to protect from all the hardcore book stans about to come after me*
i couldn’t find anything written for these two online so i thought i’d give it a shot! this is katy x shang-chi. what should their ship name be? i vote for shaunty. continue if you love friends-to-lovers 🥰
For Katy, the weirdest part about coming home after nearly dying and saving the world from a soul-sucking monster was realizing that she needed to find a new job.
“You could always apply to be an archery instructor at that place in Golden Gate Park,” Shaun said, looking over her shoulder at her laptop.
“Yeah, I don’t think my three days of experience will look very good on the resume,” Katy said, balancing the laptop on her thighs as she sat cross-legged on his bed.
“You could always put, ‘fired the shot that saved the universe,’” Shaun said. He leaned just a little too far into Katy’s space for comfort. “What should matter are results, right?”
“Ha ha,” Katy said, her throat suddenly dry. She didn’t bother to tell him she’d already inquired with the place and they weren’t hiring.
It had been like this since they’d gotten back from Ta Lo. Just… a little off. How was she supposed to act around her friend after going through an experience like this? How was she supposed to act after discovering a whole new side to someone she’d thought she knew so well? How was she supposed to breathe around Shaun now that she knew what he looked like with his shirt off?
Katy caught Shaun’s eye in the mirror of her laptop screen and swallowed, slamming the laptop shut before she or it combusted. It was all getting to be a bit much.
“Is everything alright?” Shaun asked from somewhere behind her.
Katy nodded, Shaun’s garage studio suddenly stifling despite the constant San Francisco temperature of 60 degrees outside. “Yeah, I’m just… I think I’ll maybe look again tomorrow.”
Shaun moved around the back of his bed and sat next to Katy, his thigh touching her knee. “Come on, Katy. What’s up? It couldn’t possibly be any weirder than the stuff I’ve told you recently.”
“Plenty of room at the Hotel California…” Katy started humming, her hand tapping against her leg in time to the music.
Shaun grabbed her hand and tugged, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Come on, you know that only works on idiots.”
“Well then it should have worked on you.”
Shaun frowned, then rested his other hand on top of the one he was already holding, his thumb sliding soothingly back and forth across her skin. “Seriously, Katy. Are you alright?”
Katy bit her lip and looked down at their connected hands. “It’s this!” she burst out, jerking her chin towards their hands. “Since when did we do this?”
Shaun let go of her hand and scooted away immediately, leaving a good foot of distance between them on the bed. Hurt lit his eyes. “Maybe since we almost died together?” he said defensively. “But you could have just told me you were uncomfortable. I won’t do it again.”
“No, wait. Shaun!” Katy fumbled over her words. “It’s not uncomfortable, really. Or well, it is, but it’s not a bad kind of uncomfortable. It’s just weird because I’ve never felt awkward around you before. But now I do and I don’t know what to do about it or what’s changed or even if you’ve noticed it or not.”
“You feel awkward around me?”
“Yeah! And you seem totally fine which is… great for me,” Katy said, her neck heating. This sucked. She hoped she’d be able to get over this soon so she could go back to singing karaoke late into the night without worrying if she was going to make a pass at him when she was drunk.
“I’m fine because it’s you!” he said. “I’ve known you for forever! What am I doing that’s making you uncomfortable, because I can stop.”
Katy cast a sidelong glance at him, her eyes tracing up the exquisitely-defined muscles of his forearms. I wonder if I could get him to take his shirt off again, she thought longingly. “You could eat a few Ho Hos with a side of pizza, I guess.”
His forehead crinkled in confusion, which drew attention to his eyes, which then led her down to his lips. Ok, maybe there was no leading going on, and Katy had just decided to look there herself.
“Look, normally I’m pretty good at interpreting Katy,” Shaun said, “But I think I might need a little help today.”
I could help you out of your clothes. Woah. That thought had better not come out of her mouth.
Katy jumped to her feet and turned from Shaun, her eyes struggling to find something else to focus on—anything else. “It’s fine, alright. I’m just being weird because I realized you’re hot and now it’s hard to stop thinking about it.”
“Woah! I’m hot?”
“Shut up, you know you are.” Katy moved over to the garage door and turned back to him, confident she could face him with some distance between them.
“No, I don’t! You used to call me shrimp cracker back in high school!”
“Yeah, well, all those shrimp decided to start swimming in the formation of an eight-pack on your torso, so…”
Shaun walked over to her, a grin spreading across his face. “All those times you made fun of me in gym class, and look at you now.”
He was getting too close, and Katy backed along the garage door away from him. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”
“Hey, I think I deserve to bask a little in your admiration,” Shaun said, still advancing on her with a smirk she knew was just teasing.
“Shut up, Shaun,” she said, taking one more step behind her.
Her foot caught on the backpack she’d tossed carelessly by the door, and just like that she was going down. Then Shaun grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, just barely managing to keep her from dropping like a bag of rice.
One of his hands gripped her wrist while the other wrapped around her waist, holding her flush against him. Her nose was only an inch or two from his, and she could see her own reflection in his eyes. She stopped breathing.
Shaun’s eyes widened, and his fingers twitched nervously at her waist. “Oh,” he said, voice quiet and surprised. “Yeah, this is weird.”
Katy’s heart dropped into her stomach, and it was only at that moment that she realized how far gone she already was. Well, that was that.
She dropped her eyes, but there was nowhere to look but him, so she fixed her gaze on the zipper of the coat he always wore. There was a stain right around the hem. He should probably get a new coat now that he was important and all.
The hand holding her wrist dropped, and suddenly his warm palm was pressed against her cheek, lifting her head up. She looked back into his eyes and found a familiar warmth there. It was unquestioning friendship and loyalty. It was love.
“It’s a good thing I like weird,” he said. Then he leaned in and kissed her.
Katy wrapped her arms around him, pulling him harder against her and finally—finally—getting to feel those muscles. When she’d privately fantasized about this moment over the past few days, she’d always worried it might feel strange or wrong—like kissing her brother. But it turned out she’d worried for nothing. Shaun’s hands on her hips felt right, and his lips moved against her mouth in a way that made her knees week. No, this was definitely not like kissing her hot, super hero brother.
After a few minutes Shaun pulled away, his expression dazed but smiling. “Ok, I take it back,” he said. “Not weird at all.”
Katy smirked up at him. “I guess I wasn’t trying hard enough.” Her phone chimed her text alert and she jumped, nearly forgetting it was in her back pocket. “Oh, damn, I forgot I told mom I’d be home to help her restock.”
“I can come with,” Shaun said, his hand moving experimentally up and down her waist.
“Sure.” A thought occurred to Katy and she stopped typing mid-text to her mom. She looked up at Shaun, her eyes wide. “Shaun. Waipo is going to be so psyched.”
summary: In the aftermath of Munich, Bucky struggles to go back to how things were before. But now that he knows how it is to love you, he's not sure he can.
pairing: bucky x reader
word count: 5.8k
warnings: smut (18+), mutual pining idiots
a/n: here is the final part! make sure you catch up at part 1 first!
gif by @crispychrissy
Bucky couldn’t get the image out of his head for days after the mission in Munich. Pictures of you laying so beautifully beneath him, the slight curve of your lips as a moan slipped past, skin so soft it begged to be touched and soothed and worshiped. He couldn’t let go of how you sounded, how you cried out his name or the gentle whimpers spoken so sweetly against his ear. He couldn’t stop craving you wrapped so tightly around him, your hands caressing down his arms, his back, his shoulders, your unbridged desire to touch every part of him, even the parts he despised.
Memories that found him in his sleep in the early hours of the morning, in the shower when his legs were weak and tired, at the breakfast table when you strolled in wearing a t-shirt down to your thighs and the evident curve of your breasts bare beneath the fabric.
Bucky tried to push the thoughts away. He tried to stop thinking of what happened in that cold, abandoned Hydra base. He tried to bury that longing somewhere deep, somewhere he’d never be bothered by it again. But it always came back in the image of you in that cell.
It plagued him. It taunted him.
He wanted more.
He didn’t know how to admit it. Not to himself, and certainly not to you. So, he did his best to suffocate those feelings, those cravings for something real, but they still found their way to the surface.
They spilled over on movie nights with the team and Bucky would find himself inching closer to you, in the gym when he took just a second longer to lift his weight from your body after a winded match that ended on the surface of the mat, on walks around the compound when he found himself wanting to capture your hand in his own as your fingers brushed by.
Those feelings slipped from his smothering hold on missions when he watched your back far more than his own, when he’d missed an obvious target in an attempt to clear your enemy line and ended up catching three bullets himself. He lost composure whenever you didn’t respond on coms or when you’d stumble back onto the quinjet with an injury you’d been hiding. He dove headfirst into fires and threw his body up as a shield and spent every night in agony wondering if you knew that he’d give his whole life to you if you’d asked.
It made him stupid. It made him reckless. It might actually get him killed.
But it hadn’t started in Munich. No, that was just the catalyst of it all. Bucky had loved you long before that drug infiltrated his system and left the two of you in an impossible position. He’d managed to keep his feelings at bay for years; hiding behind quick witted jokes and friendly banter and a genuine friendship and it had been enough. Honest, it had.
Only, now he knew what it was like to be with you. He caught a taste of what it would be like to make love to you and he didn’t know if he could ever forget and move on. It had been weeks since Munich and it still felt like it happened yesterday.
He had to do something to keep it from consuming him, even if it broke your heart. Even if it broke his, too.
***
“What the hell do you mean you can’t work with Y/n anymore?”
Steve groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. It had been a long day of debriefing with about a dozen agents making demands he was unwilling to compromise on. This, separating his best team, was among them.
“It’s just not a good idea, Steve,” Bucky said, arms folded tightly over his chest as he watched Steve pace relentlessly down the conference room.
“That’s ridiculous, Buck.” Steve slumped into the chair beside his friend. “You two are the best insurgent team I have.”
“Just trust me. You’ve seen how I’ve been in the field lately. I can’t keep a straight head around her, okay? Not after—” Bucky clenched his jaw, turning away.
Steve sighed, hanging his head. “You ever gonna tell me what happened in Munich?”
Bucky’s lip was chewed raw; scars over broken wounds, teeth digging into painful cracks. It was a nasty habit he picked up after Munich. He wasn’t used to this kind of nervousness; a deep and unsettling feeling churned to stone in the pit of his stomach.
“Reassign me, Steve,” Bucky asked again, firmer. He could feel Steve’s eyes burning on him, tracing every inch of his face, searching for a tell, but he wouldn’t find one. Bucky was trained better than that. He knew to keep his features cold, stoned, even if his heart was pounding against his chest. He wondered it Steve could hear it, too.
The silence hung heavy in the air.
“Alright,” Steve finally conceded. He shook his head reluctantly. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Bucky sighed a breath of relief, the weight of months filled with a longing he couldn’t tame and painful twist in his heart slipping from him in seconds. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.” Steve stood up from his chair, gathered the papers from the desk and made his way to the door. He paused just at the frame, turned around slowly to find Bucky had relaxed a little too much for his liking and added, “you’re going to be the one to tell her.”
“What?” Bucky scrambled out of his chair, nearly losing his footing and all composure as he stood to face Steve.
“You’ve been partners for years,” Steve shot back tensely. “She’s had your back on countless missions, saved your life on more than one occasion, and—come on, Buck— you guys are friends! The two of you spend every day together, even when you’re benched! You don’t want to give me an explanation? Fine. But you sure as hell owe her one.”
Bucky shook his head rapidly, hands clenching at the fraying edges of his t-shirt. “Steve, I—”
“Just talk to her,” Steve said, a heavy disappointment lingering in his voice. His lips parted, as if there were more he wanted to say, but decided against it. He hung his head, pat Bucky firmly on his shoulder, and left.
***
Had he always been able to hear his own heartbeat like this?
It was pounding in his ears, thunderous, deafening, and he swore just about everyone else on the floor could its thumping as he approached your room.
The door was open ajar with a small glimmer of sunlight streaming out into the dimly lit hallway. You were singly quietly to yourself – humming, maybe – as you sat on the edge of your bed, staring down onto your phone. You didn’t seem to notice him at the door. He knocked.
Your head popped up, surprised at the sudden intrusion and your eyes only narrowed upon finding it was Bucky standing below the doorframe. You looked at him for a moment before you turned back to your phone without saying another word.
He deserved that.
“Can I come in?” Bucky asked sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. He was still staring into the room through the small slit in the door.
You shrugged. “Depends. Are you still avoiding me?”
A sharp sting burned in his chest as Bucky tried to unclench his jaw. Truthfully, he had been avoiding you for days now. Ever since he made up his mind to ask for a reassignment. It didn’t matter if Steve shipped him off to Alaska or the Amazons or out into space with the goddamn raccoon; all he knew was that every minute he spent beside you was agony and he needed to get away from it – away from you – before it consumed him whole.
None of that was your fault. You didn’t know why he was suddenly too busy to spar on your usual weekdays or join the team for movie nights. He never told you why he suddenly started pulling away, cutting off all contact as if you hadn’t been friends for years before Munich.
“I’ve got something important to talk to you about,” Bucky replied, clearing his throat.
You sat up, sitting the phone down by your side as you recognized the tone in his voice. Clinical. Mission oriented. Business. He didn’t want it to sound so cold, but he wasn’t sure he could do this if it wasn’t.
Bucky stepped into the room, prying the door open gently with a slow squeak on its hinges as he closed it behind him. He’d been in your room dozens of times before, but somehow, in this moment, it felt like an invasion of privacy, like he wasn’t supposed to be there.
He took a deep breath, trying to keep focus. He took a few steps forward and gingerly sat on the edge of your bed, keeping careful distance as he wrung at his hands in his lap.
“I’m being reassigned.”
You furrowed your brow. He could practically hear your heart skip a beat.
“What? No. They can’t do that!” You shook your head, determined. There were traces of disbelief on your face – anger, too. Your hands gripped tightly into the sheets at your sides. “They can’t just reassign you, Buck. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Y/n, you don’t understand,” he started to say, but you were already on your feet, pacing around the room. It was how you calmed yourself when your thoughts were racing too fast. The stabbing pain in Bucky’s chest only seemed to dig deeper.
“I know the field has been messy lately, but that happens to everyone! They can’t split us up because of a few extra trips to the med bay,” you argued, wearing trenches into the carpet of your bedroom. You stopped abruptly. “Who gave the order? Steve? Tony? I’ll take this up with Fury if I have to, okay? I won’t let them—”
“Y/n, stop. Please.” Bucky hung his head. His right hand was red as his left clasped and tugged at the skin. He couldn’t find the courage to meet your eye but he could tell from the way you stilled that you knew what he was about to say. “It was me. I asked for reassignment.”
It didn’t seem to hurt any less though because your stance still faltered. It was barely noticeable, not to the human eye, but Bucky’s sensed were advanced thanks to his time in Hydra. He saw the way your body weight shifted just slightly, how your breath caught in your chest, the slight flicker of your eyes. Shock. Betrayal. Hurt.
“You said it yourself,” Bucky reasoned, trying to find excuses where there were none, “there’s been too many ER trips lately. I keep getting hurt.”
“Because you insist on using your body as human shield, Buck!” you retorted, arms flung out to the sides. “Just knock that off and we’ll be fine!”
Bucky shook his head, his lips curling ever so slightly though it didn’t touch his eyes. “It’s not that simple.”
“Of course, it is!” you argued. You started pacing again. “Don’t be an idiot, Barnes. I’m not losing my partner. Go tell them you were joking or concussed and not thinking straight!”
“I’m not going to do that.” Bucky clenched his jaw. His right hand was starting to lose feeling from how tightly he was gripping it.
Why couldn’t you make this easy on him? You were supposed to be angry with him for ignoring you for the last week. You were angry with him and yet you still fought for him. He couldn’t make sense of it.
The pacing stopped again, though this time it came in slow, like a realization that found its way piece by piece until it melded into a visible image.
“Was it something I did?”
Bucky jumped up to his feet, instinctively wanting to walk towards you but you held your ground. He froze, standing several feet away.
“No,” he said firmly. “God no. You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/n.”
“Then what?” You raised your arms out to the side in question. “We’ve been partners for years, Bucky. I’ve relied on you all that time to have my back, to keep me alive out there, and—and—” you groaned rather loudly, “you’re my best friend! You can’t just up and decide you’re done with me and move on!”
Bucky frowned. “That’s not what this is.”
You shook your head, arms folding tightly over your chest protectively. “Sure feels like it.”
The silence between you was unbearable. Bucky didn’t have a good excuse. You were right to be angry with him. He was abandoning you. He was a coward. He was running away from a painful situation to avoid facing it head on because he was terrified to lose you. Though, as you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, pulling them away a moment later to find a soft glisten of reflection in their wake, Bucky started to wonder that were already true.
“Oh God,” you exhaled, a heavy realization in your voice as you turned to him. Your shoulders slumped. “This is because of Munich, isn’t it?”
Bucky flinched. He tried not to, but you noticed. A look of absolute devastation crossed your features as your lips parted, sinking down onto your bed.
“I knew things were different after that mission. I mean, how could they not be?” You leaned over against your thighs, letting your hair fall down to shield your face where Bucky could not see. “I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have given in. You couldn’t consent with that shit running through your veins. Not really. So— fuck – I completely understand if you can’t be around me after I—”
“That’s not what happened,” Bucky interjected sharply, shaking himself from the fear coursing through him as he crossed the room to you. He knelt down beside your bed and waited patiently for you to lift your head and let the curtain of hall fall away from your face. “I could have fought it. It hurt like hell, but I would have survived it even if we… if we hadn’t…”
He let his voice trail off, his cheeks turning a slight side of pink. He sighed. “The point... is that I wanted to. I really wanted to. And that’s the problem.”
You narrowed your eyes, confused.
Was he really going to tell you? Wasn’t this what he had been trying to avoid? Throwing away years of friendship to confess deeper feelings he was all but sure you’d never reciprocate?
But there was something about the way you were looking at him. With tears glistening in your eyes and a grief he couldn’t quite place nestled into the lines on your forehead, Bucky began to wonder if walking away would give him any relief at all. He wasn’t sure he could ever leave this room again if you were left blaming yourself for his crimes.
Bucky slowly placed his right hand on your knee, rubbing his thumb gently along the dimple. Your eyes followed his movements, watching curiously until he found the courage to speak.
“We’ve been partners for a while,” he started, clearing his voice when it came out shaken. You nodded. “I feel like sometimes I know what you’re thinking just by looking at you and when we’re out in the field, even in the middle of chaos, it’s like you can tell what I’m doing before I actually figure it out myself. We’re really good together. Out there. It’s hard to find that these days.”
You didn’t say anything and for that, he was grateful. He needed to get this out before he shut down completely.
“I think we only got that good because we’re… uhm… we’re close, you know?” Bucky took a deep breath, releasing his grip on your knee when he realized he’d started to squeeze it a little too hard. Your hand was sitting on your thigh, but you’d inched it closer to his, enough so the tips of your fingers overlapped onto his.
“We’re friends.” Bucky paused at the term, deciding it wasn’t strong enough. “It’s more than that though. I trust you with things I wouldn’t even tell Steve. You were the first person I felt like I could be myself around. Not the Bucky that Steve remembers or the one Hydra manipulated. This one. Whatever that means.”
Your whole hand covered his now, as much as it would allow. He glanced up to find your fingers curling under his, a slight squeeze to tell him you were still listening. He exhaled another breath and the pressure in his chest felt a little lighter.
“What happened in Munich didn’t awaken anything or… or open my eyes to something I didn’t know was there,” Bucky continued, his eyes trained on your legs, unable to find the courage to face you. “I’ve known how I felt about you for a long time. I was okay with it. I learned to live with it and manage it because being your friend and being your partner was too important to lose. But…”
He felt your hands squeeze his again.
“But after Munich… I don’t know how to go back. I don’t think I can.” Bucky didn’t dare to meet your eye. He could feel the words slipping past his lips before he had a chance to pull them back in. A waterfall of confessions he couldn’t hope to control. “It’s why I’ve been so reckless in the field, why I keep ending up in the med wing. I can’t shove it down anymore and it punctures me right through the goddamn heart when I see you surrounded by armed agents or when there’s a weapon aimed at you and my instinct is to run towards you. Screw what happens to me.
“I know you’re good at your job,” Bucky stressed, shaking his head. “I know you can handle yourself and you don’t need me to protect you but… but I want to. I want to keep you safe and hold your hand when you’re getting stitches and curl up beside you at night just so I can remind myself you’re real when the nightmares get the better of me. I want… I want more than I should.”
He could hear the skip in your heartbeat, how it gradually picked up in pace the longer he spoke. Your breathing was shorter, too. Shallower. Bucky was certain it was all confirmation of the story he’d been telling himself for years.
“This… How I feel… It’s not good for us. As friends. As partners. I’m trying to do us a favor and just remove myself from the equation.”
Bucky still had yet to meet your eye. He’d turned to examining every detail he could find on the fabric of your sleep shorts, in the sheets you sat upon, in the divots and dimples and blemishes on your thighs. He wasn’t sure he’d have the resolve to leave if he looked at your face.
Several beats of silence passed by and Bucky wondered how it was possible you hadn’t lashed out at him yet. He expected you to be angry for driving a wedge between you with something as reckless as love and affection. He expected you to turn your shoulder, reject him for everything he was, because it was one thing to befriend the Winter Soldier, another entirely to love him.
Bucky slowly rose back to his feet, letting his hand slip away from your knee and your gentle hold on him fell away. He mistook your silence for acceptance, maybe even agreement. He cleared his throat, starting to back up towards the door.
“So, um,” Bucky said nervously, trying to fill the silence in his escape, “that’s why. I hope you can forgive me some day for all of this. I’ll, uh, I’ll go.”
Bucky barely had his hand on the knob when he heard the soft squeak of your mattress springs as you rose to your feet.
“You’re wrong.”
The sound of your voice startled him, enough to get him to look back at you before he could stop himself. Your hands were clenched at your sides, eyes red with tears, bottom lip chewed raw.
“Y/n, I—”
“You’re wrong,” you said again, almost angry and somehow that was a relief. It would make it easier for him to leave if you were angry, but you had different plans. “You’re wrong if you think you’re doing me some kind of favor by leaving.”
Tears were on your cheeks now and Bucky’s stomach lurched. This wasn’t what he wanted. This was agony.
He took a step closer to you. “You have to trust me, it’s not a good idea for us to—”
“You’re wrong,” you continued, cutting him off again as you rubbed at the tears under your eyes. “You’re wrong to assume that I don’t feel the exact fucking way about you and—and if you leave, Bucky, I swear to God it will kill me.”
Bucky froze. His heart stopped beating completely, might have plunged down through his stomach, broken through the floorboards and buried itself into molten lava and dirt, because of all the things he was expecting you to say, that was not one of them.
“Don’t do this,” you implored, voice a little broken, barely above a whisper. “Please don’t go.”
Bucky was at a loss. He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t prepared for this. He never even considered you might beg him to stay, that you might feel for him in the way he felt for you. It never once crossed his mind. It felt like a dream.
“I miss you.” Your voice was so small and still, it nearly tore him straight in half. “I miss how we used to be. I miss seeing you smile and your stupid jokes at the most inappropriate times in the field.” You laughed to yourself, under your breath, and even through the tears it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. But you sighed, the smile falling away. “I miss you when you’re not here. All the time. So much it hurts. I feel like I’m going out of my mind when I’m not with you. You’re my best friend, but I… I also… I miss Munich.”
Bucky’s eyes widened and you only caught a glimpse of him for a second before your face was in your hands, trying to shield yourself from him.
“I know it’s wrong,” you murmured, muffled by your palms. “I know it’s not right to miss a moment when you were in pain and made to feel something you didn’t ask for, but… I think about it a lot and... how much I want more.”
Stunned silence. Throat dry. Heart pounding.
“What are you saying?” Bucky finally found the courage to ask.
You lifted your head, finally meeting his eye and there was a relief there as you looked up at him. Your shoulders eased. A soft smile returned to your lips and it nearly melted him completely.
“The same thing you are, I think.”
He swallowed. “Oh.”
Bucky watched, near frozen, as you crossed the room, bare feet padding softly over the carpet until you were only inches from him. The space between you closing as your hands slid up his arms, resting against his shoulders, cupping at the sides of his face, just observing, just feeling. There was no venom in his veins and yet, Bucky felt electrified under your touch. His heart stammered in his chest as your fingers wove at the strands of hair at the base of his neck.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” you told him and he wondered for a moment if he stopped breathing entirely. "No Hydra chemicals. No foreign influence. Just us, okay? You and me.”
Bucky nodded, a little stunned.
Slowly, you inched up closer to him, your eyes drawing closed until you were a breath from his lips. Just barely grazing upon his own, waiting, and Bucky let his hands slid up against your back, tugging you closed against him, and captured your lips in his own.
It was different than the first time in Munich, less rushed, less desperate, but instead filled with a longing that had spanned years between you, coated in affection and heartache and need for one another beyond anything a serum in a lab could fabricate.
Your hands wove into his hair, his arms pressing you firm against his chest, and it was like you were holding onto him for dear life. Your feet began to carry the two of you backwards, dragging Bucky towards the bed, and you yelped as your knees caught on the edge of the mattress, sending the two of you spiraling onto the bed.
“You alright?” Bucky laughed, brushing away the hair in your eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows caged around your shoulders; most of his weight laying upon you in the sweetest comfort of pressure.
“I'm perfect,” you replied, bright smiles and joy radiating from every pore. It was contagious.
“We can stop here, if you want,” Bucky offered sincerely. He was riding a high he never thought he’d ever experience and anything you’d be willing to share with him was a gift within itself. He’d kiss you for hours if you’d let him.
“And if I don’t want to stop?” you questioned, staring up at him with a hunger in your eyes. Your fingers trailed down his t-shirt, dancing around the hem of the fabric at his hips. “If I wanted to keep going... If I wanted you...?”
“I’m yours, sweetheart.”
A simple answer. A true one. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life.
Bucky knelt back, tugged on the fabric of his shirt between his shoulder blades and pulled it over his head. You watching him as he tossed it to the corner of the room before he settled back down against you. Your hands ran along the lines of his muscles, over the scars and imperfections, and for once, Bucky didn’t shy away from the hands of a woman. It didn’t feel like a twist to his gut, he didn’t hold his breath. No – instead, it felt renewing, healing almost.
His hands slid under the waist of your shirt, inching it higher as he rand his touch along the curves of your sides, until you leaned up for him to help remove the fabric. It joined his shirt at the edge of the room.
Perfect and bare. Stunning in your nakedness. A privilege he never thought he’d be granted.
“You want to take a picture or...?” you teased him, noticing how long he’d been staring at you.
Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t temp me. Besides, I’m hoping I won’t need a picture to see you like this again.”
“Definitely not,” you confirmed, tugging him down to meet your lips again.
It was laced in smiled and laughter and ages of holding back from one another all rolled into one. A freedom of taking your time, of enjoying one another, and learning to memorize your bodies. Bucky would have wondered if he were dreaming if not for the way you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding against his hardening cock – no dream could produce a feeling like that.
With his lips on your neck, Bucky played with the hem of your shorts, waiting until you lifted your hips just enough to give him the access to slid them down your legs, removing the last remaining fabric along with it.
Bucky kissed his way down your body, mapping a trail from your neck, to the hills of your breasts, to your ribs, to the comfort of cushion at your stomach, to the crevices at your legs and inner thighs. He paused for a moment, setting his cheek against your thigh as he drew his fingers between your lips, separating them to give access to the sweetest parts of you.
You flinched a little as he touched your clit, a gasp emitting from your lips as your hands curled into the sheets. Bucky grinned, encouraged by your reaction as he began to circle the pads of his fingers at your entrance. Listening for the subtle changes in your breath, the moans the slipped past, and the curl of your fingers, Bucky leaned in and wrapped his lips around your clit.
“F-fuck, Bucky,” you whined, hands snaking into his hair and gripping tight against his scalp.
He smiled at the feeling, at the way you cried his name, and he pressed his slicked fingers inside of you. Perhaps it was the haze of the foreign chemicals the last time he had you under him like this, but he didn’t remember you being so vocal, so sensitive to his touch. It was a rush and he had to keep himself from rutted up against the mattress as added a third finger, curling them just enough and massaging at the walls as they squeezed tight around him.
Tongue lapping at the wetness, sucking around the sensitive bud of nerves, fingers perfectly drawing out the high as it built at your core, it only took moments before you crashed. You cried out his name, legs wrestling against him in the sensitivity as he drew out the feeling as long as he could, moving slower and slower until you stilled under him.
“Fuck,” you exhaled, a laugh entranced in your voice.
Bucky grinned, pleased with himself as he crawled his way back up the bed to meet your lips. He didn’t bother to wipe the remnants of your high from his mouth and you didn’t seem to mind as you kissed him, certainly tasting yourself upon his lips, and it only made him want you more.
“You’re turn,” you smirked, trying to slide out from under him as you licked your lips, but Bucky held you down.
“Next time, okay?” he countered and you sunk back into the mattress with a pout on your lips. “I don’t think I can last if you get your mouth on me.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” you teased, running your fingers down his stomach until he began to shiver.
“Yes,” he chuckled, swatting your hands away playfully. He winked. “I’m gonna die if I don’t have you right now.”
“Jesus, Buck, don’t even joke,” you laughed, hiding your face in your hands.
“Hey, someone's gotta,” Bucky grinned as he tugged down his pants, kicking them off to land amongst the rest of the discarded clothing. “If it got me here, I’ll happily make light of a fucked up Hydra breeding experiment.”
“Would you have told me if it hadn’t happened?” you asked, voice a little softer, peering out from behind your hands.
Bucky stilled, his grin falling into something gentler and he shrugged. “Don’t know if I ever would have had the courage. I never thought we’d be here. Never could have imagined you’d feel the same way.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Would you have said anything?”
“I don’t think I really knew until you threatened to walk away,” you admitted.
“Well,” Bucky sighed, pressing a trail of kissed along your collarbone as he settled between your legs, his length pressing against your thigh, “good thing I’m not going anywhere.”
“Better not,” you murmured against his lips as you drew his mouth to yours.
Then, as he felt the hitch of your breath against his lips, he sank into you. Stretching walls and guiding your legs to wrap at his waist to offer an angle that left your jaw slacked. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips parted, and Bucky felt a rush unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Even through the smoke filled haze of that serum in Munich, he’d never felt an ounce of the relief as he did in this moment. To be completely and entirely yours.
He felt you squeeze at his shoulders, urging him to move, and slowly, he rocked his hips against you. Slow and steady. Needy. Until your nails dug into his spine and Bucky couldn’t prolong the tender build up any longer.
Chasing and chasing; higher and higher. Bucky could tell you were close from how tight your walls were clenched around him. It took near everything he had not to come on the spot, but he held on, waiting, watching as your lips parted, as the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard slipped past, and you cried out his name.
“Oh fuck—fuck—Bucky, don’t stop.” Your breath was hot against his cheek. “I’m so close. I’m—ah—”
A hitch in your breath and your whole body seemed to fall slack. It only spurred him on. Hips snapped, fingers rubbing quick circles at your clit, until you were whining and shaking under him, until he was satisfied with the blissful look on your face and he let himself go.
He spilled into you, rutting his hips in a few final, lazy thrusts as he sank into the crook of your neck, panting. Dizzy and content, riding a high that extended beyond his body, Bucky hummed into your collarbone as he felt your nails draw patterns along his back in gentle sweeps. It tingled on his skin, send shivers along his spine, and he never wanted it to stop.
“Hey, Y/n?”
You paused, just for a moment, before you resumed tracing the lines on his back, over muscles and scars alike. “Yes, Bucky?”
He could hear the teasing in your voice, the light-hearted laugh, the warmth that made him fall in love with you and his heart clenched. He wrapped his arms under your shoulders, the full weight of his body still pressing you down to the mattress, still buried inside of you.
“Promise me this is real.” An embarrassment crept up as he said it, though the drawing on his back didn’t skip a beat. “You and me. I’m not dreaming or stuck in my head. This is real, right?”
Your hands slid up along his shoulders to his neck, and then to the sides of his face as you guided him off your chest to meet your eye; more beautiful than he’d ever seen you, with a glimmer of sweat and an afterglow radiating in the smile lifting your cheeks.
“This is real, honey,” you told him, leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the lips.
“Okay. Okay, good.” Bucky grinned, cheeks flushed in heat. He settled back against your chest, resting his cheek to your heart as you resumed drawing the lazy patterns on his back.
Perfectly content.
Warm. Safe.
Home.
---
Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨
Was I expecting a sex pollen fic to have a beautiful plot? Nope! But also, dumb of me to read any fic by @wkemeup and not expected to be enchanted as heck.
tangentwithtanner
yousharknotpass
snowghoul
origamiaround
areudirty
janainaart
prguitarman
