Summary: You just turned 18, your momma’s away & Lee’s got his eyes (and cock) set on you.
AN: Greed 02, for @theoracleofsin event Summer of Sin: “There is no such thing as 'enough' when it comes to what I want."
AN2: Divider courtesy of @saradika-graphics
🚨WARNING🚨DDDNE (Dead Dove Do Not Eat) The following work deals with a large age gap (reader just turned 18, Lee is in his 40s) as well as dubious consent (non-con if you squint).
The author also trusts that you know your own triggers before you proceed. PLEASE READ RESPONSIBLY.
🚩Content Warning🚩 language, dubcon/noncon, stepcest/fauxcest, sexual relations between step-dad & step-daughter, including but not limited to: kissing, fingering, groping, p in v sex, loss of virginity, virginity slang, Lee being crude and lewd, creampie, blood play (very minor), rough sex, mirror sex, underage drinking.
You peered over your sunglasses as the squad car pulled up to the house. It was hotter than Satan’s cat; it must’ve been 90° alone in the shade.
Sheriff Lee Bodecker - your step daddy - pulled into the driveway, the gravel crunching under the tires. You were laying on a faded lawn chair, enjoying the sun and heat in your little bikini top and cutoffs.
It’s your birthday. Eighteen today—finally legal, finally an adult. Your mama’s gone for the week, visiting your aunt in Chillicothe, leaving you alone in this creaky old house with your step-daddy.
Sheriff Lee Bodecker.
He’d been eyeing you like forbidden fruit since the day he moved in, his uniform always crisp, that drawl dripping with something darker than authority. He wasn’t exactly shy about his wandering eye and you didn’t understand how your mama put up with it.
“Happy birthday sugar,” Lee drawls as he climbs out of the car. His eyes rake over your tiny sleep shorts, tits in your bikini top, hair tousled. There was no escaping that hungry stare. “C’mere and let your step-daddy give you a birthday hug.”
He’s on you in two strides, big hands pulling you up. He grips your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat of his belly, the badge on his chest is cool through the fabric, a stark reminder of who he is—the law in this town, and right now, the law wants you.
“C’mon honey, let’s go inside so we can celebrate proper. Stopped at the store on the way home and picked you up a little cake. Thought we could share with some beers.”
Your brow arched. “I’m 18, not 21.”
“I won’t tell anyone if you won’t sugar,” Lee winked with a lascivious grin.
Twenty minutes later, you’re on your second beer as you take the plates to the sink. As you turn, you see Lee run his finger through the thick buttercream before sucking it off. “Mmm, so sweet,” he murmurs. “But my sweet tooth wonders if there’s something sweeter…”
You pick up on the double entendre immediately. “Lee…”
He’s in front of you now, his large arms caging you in at the sink.
“Lee…” you repeat again, your voice low and warning.
Lee paid no mind. “Party’s just getting started sweetheart. Been patient long enough.” His mouth crashes down on yours, demanding, tongue sweeping in like he owns every inch. You push half-heartedly at his shoulders, a soft moan slipping out. Lee just chuckles against your lips, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb teasing the nipple until it pebbles.
“Turned eighteen. My good girl now. Time to give your step-daddy what he’s been cravin’.” He tugs you effortlessly into the room adjacent to the kitchen - your room.
Fingers hook into your shorts, yanking them down with your bathing suit bottoms in one tug. You gasp as cool air hits your exposed skin, thighs pressing together instinctively. But Lee’s knee wedges between them, spreading you open. His fingers find your slick folds, circling your clit with practiced strokes that make your knees buckle.
“Lee, I—I’m not sure about this…” Your voice trembles, body caught between shame and the building heat. Heat pools low as he kisses down your neck, sucking marks that’ll bruise tomorrow. “This is wrong. I can’t— I’ve never…”
“How can it be wrong when wrong feels too damn good, don’t it?” He spins you to face the mirror, forcing you to watch. His hand is in between your legs, two thick fingers pushing inside. The stretch burns sweet, drawing a whimper from you as he pumps slow and deep. “Look at yourself. Soakin’ for your stepdaddy already.”
He frees his cock, thick, veined, flushed dark, and rubs the head along your slit. “There is no such thing as ‘enough’ when it comes to what I want.” The words rumble against your ear as he notches at your entrance and thrusts in, not giving you time to adjust. You cry out at the fullness, tears stinging your eyes, but he holds you steady, one arm banded across your chest, the other working your clit. “Fuck, so tight. Look at the sweet cunt. She’s takin’ me so pretty.”
Pain fades into overwhelming pleasure as he bottoms out, hips snapping forward in a steady rhythm. The mirror fogs with your panting breaths. His groans mix with your moans—surrender as your body betrays you, hips rocking back to meet him. “That’s it, baby girl. Let stepdaddy ruin this pussy.”
He fucks you harder, hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds, claiming you completely until you’re clenching around him, coming with a shattered gasp.
He buries himself to the hilt with a guttural groan, cock pulsing hard as he unloads. Thick, hot ropes of cum flood your pussy, so much it immediately starts pushing out around his shaft, creamy and messy, dripping down. He keeps grinding deep through it, fucking his load even further into you.
“Atta girl… milk every drop. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”
He stays buried inside you for a long moment, panting, then slowly pulls out just to watch the creamy mess spill out of your wrecked hole.
His eyes widen at the red streaks mixed with his load. “Would you look at that,” he replies in wonder. “Popped my girl’s cherry.”
He smears the now pink mixture of your blood and his cum up over your clit with his thumb, teasing. He leans down to kiss the back of your neck all
18+, ab-riding, praise, aftercare, pet names (baby/babygirl, sweet girl)
YOU'RE DRAGGING your leaking, aching cunt across the hard lines of his torso until a squelching sound emits with every movement of your hips. he's simply laying there, an amused smirk playing at his lips as a result of your desperate whimpers. this usually happens when he's too tired or injured after patrol to fuck you in the way you crave.
"such a needy girl, huh?" he teases, resting two heavy, calloused hands on the fat of your hips. "jesus-" he huffs a low, gravely chuckle, entertained by just how much you're leaking. "makin' a goddamn mess, baby" he tuts, admiring the glistening slick smeared across his front.
you're so close, the friction of his firm, warm skin against your sensitive clit is making your nails dig in to his pecs. he knows when you're close before you do, always kept track of the way your body nearly loses control.
"you gonna cum like this?" he asks, "don't even need my help, huh?" he cups your cheek, making you lock eyes with him as your grinding grows sloppier. you couldn't care less about the embarrassment anymore, it's so intoxicating getting off on him like this, all while he sits back and watches.
your pathetic noises only grow louder with each grind, with each swipe of your pussy across his abs. "j-jay– m'gonna cum" you breathe out, clenching your eyes shut. you can feel his clothed, throbbing cock, probably making a sticky mess in his pants with pre-cum, pressing against your ass every time you move, a sign that he's getting off on this just as much as you are.
"i know, babygirl" he coos, leaning up slightly to press soft, fluttering kisses to your neck. "you can let go f'me, sweet girl" he purrs, brushing the hair from your flushed face and simply admiring the way your expression is twisted in pleasure. his precious girl, using him to get off.
your breath hitches when your orgasm finally comes crashing over you, leaving you twitching against him. he holds you through your high as you cry out, his name heavy on your tongue. he's bucking his hips up, trying to get in any last stimulation before you collapse against him, exhausted. "there we go" he speaks softly, gently, as if he's coddling you.
"you feel better? hm?" he asks, "not so needy now, i bet." he chuckles lowly, and you're too fucked out to retort back. a calm settles in your bones as he holds you, rubbing soothing circles into your back and kissing the crown of your head. he'll make sure to take care of you properly once you've both rested.
This one's for you and your problems
Your good day job, your bad karma, what are you afraid of?
The same trauma, show me what you're made of
'Cause you talk about your constant pain like I ain't got none
“Let me hear her demons, so I can kill every last one of them” - Noyar Cecil
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
summary: You take a last-minute princess job at Morgan Stark’s birthday party expecting easy money and screaming children. You do not expect a grumpy Beast ruining your life with soft looks.
word count: 6.4k
warnings: fluff, mutual pining, awkward flirting, fairy tale references, mild language, bucky barnes being reluctantly soft.
a/n: not me showing up after months away from this website with the most random idea i’ve ever had. i hope you guys like it :)
“You know,” Sam Wilson says casually from the passenger seat, “most people hear the words free food and say thank you.”
From the backseat, Bucky Barnes stares out the window with the expression of a man being transported directly to his execution.
“I did say thank you,” he mutters.
“No, you grunted.”
“That was a polite grunt.”
Sam snorts.
Beside him, Steve Rogers keeps both hands on the wheel, suspiciously calm for someone participating in what is very clearly an ambush.
The city lights streak across the windows while traffic crawls forward.
Bucky should’ve stayed home.
He had a system at home.
A good system.
Coffee. Silence. Alpine curled beside him on the couch like a tiny judgmental loaf of bread. Maybe a movie he wouldn’t pay attention to. Minimal human interaction.
Peace.
Instead, Sam showed up at his apartment an hour ago carrying cupcakes and bad intentions.
“You can’t stay inside that apartment forever with Alpine,” Sam says now, like he’s continuing an old argument. “That cat is starting to absorb your personality.”
“She likes me.”
“She bites everyone else.”
“That sounds like a them problem.”
Steve hides a smile.
Bucky leans his head back against the seat with a groan. “Why am I even needed at this thing?”
“It’s Morgan’s birthday,” Steve says.
Sam grins. “Family event. It will be good for you.”
Bucky flips him off without looking.
The car goes quiet for a minute.
Not awkward quiet. Just familiar.
The kind built over years of near-death experiences and too many shared memories.
Outside, the city slowly shifts into larger houses, quieter streets, cleaner sidewalks.
Rich people territory.
Bucky already hates it.
“You could try having fun,” Steve says eventually.
Bucky stares at him like he personally insulted his ancestors.
“Why are you saying that like it’s easy?”
Steve glances at him briefly. “Because staying miserable on purpose gets exhausting after a while.”
That lands harder than Bucky wants it to. He crosses his arms, glaring out the window again while they pull through the massive Stark gates.
Lights glow across the property ahead, warm against the dark evening sky.
Music drifts faintly through the air.
Too many people.
Too much noise.
He already wants to leave.
Sam unbuckles first and points at him before he can move. “And no disappearing after ten minutes.”
“I never do that.”
“You vanished through a bathroom window last time.”
“It was efficient.”
“You’re impossible.”
Bucky pushes the car door open. “Yet here you are. Voluntarily spending time with me.”
Sam throws an arm around his shoulders immediately, dragging him toward the house despite his complaints.
“That’s because underneath all the grumpy murder grandpa stuff,” Sam says, “you secretly love us.”
“I could bench press you into traffic.”
“But you won’t.”
Bucky doesn’t answer.
Mostly because Steve opens the front doors right then—
And somewhere inside the house, faint and warm and distant, he hears someone singing.
— 15 minutes earlier —
The dressing room is chaos.
Cheap rhinestones scattered across the counter. Someone in the hallway yelling about balloons. Someone else asking where the cake table went.
And Dylan is pacing.
“No, no, no,” he mutters, tugging at the ridiculous blue Beast jacket stretched across his shoulders. “I can’t do this.”
You pause halfway through putting on your gloves. “Dylan—”
“I’m serious.” He points toward the door like the answer is waiting outside. “Do you know whose house this is?”
“Yes,” you say carefully.
“It’s the Starks.”
You stare at him through the mirror. “Tony Stark is literally paying us to sing to children, not dismantle a bomb.”
“That’s worse.”
You snort despite yourself, adjusting the off-the-shoulder yellow gown. It’s prettier than you expected when the agency shoved the costume bag into your arms this morning. Layers of gold satin spill around your feet, catching the light every time you move.
For one stupid second, you almost feel like Belle.
Dylan doesn’t.
“I think I’m gonna throw up.”
“You’re not gonna throw up.”
“What if the Avengers are there?”
You stop.
Okay. Fair point.
The knot in your stomach tightens instantly.
You need this job. Rent is due in four days, your audition last week went nowhere, and the commercial you filmed still hasn’t paid you. Which means you absolutely cannot afford to panic now.
So you grab Dylan by the shoulders.
“Listen to me,” you say firmly. “You need to calm down. Do you know how much we’re getting paid for this?”
“Yes, but—”
“And if you ruin this for me, I will personally feed you to the Hulk.”
That earns a weak laugh.
“Pretty sure he’s off-world,” Dylan mutters.
“Then I’ll wait.”
Another laugh. Better this time.
You smooth nonexistent wrinkles from his jacket. “We go in there, smile, sing, wave at rich children, and leave with enough money to survive another month. That’s it.”
A knock hits the door before he can answer.
“Princess Belle? They’re ready for you.”
Your stomach flips.
Dylan immediately pales again.
You squeeze his arm once before stepping away. “Breathe.”
Then you lift your chin, paste on a princess smile, and walk out.
The Stark house looks less like a house and more like a museum designed by someone with unlimited money and zero restraint.
Everything gleams.
Soft golden lights wrap around the enormous backyard. Staff members move through the crowd carrying trays of tiny desserts that probably cost more than your electric bill. Children run across the lawn wearing paper crowns and superhero masks.
And near the center of it all—
“Mama! Belle’s here!”
Morgan Stark barrels toward you at full speed.
You barely have time to crouch before she crashes into your arms, giggling wildly.
“Oh my gosh,” you say in your best princess voice, warm and bright. “Princess Morgan! I’ve heard so much about you.”
Her gasp is immediate. “Really?”
“Of course. The castle talks about little else.”
She beams.
And just like that, the nerves disappear.
Because this part—you know this part.
You know how to soften your voice until children lean closer to hear you. You know how to make wonder feel real. You know how to turn exhaustion into magic for two hours at a time.
Morgan takes your hand immediately and drags you toward the other kids.
“Belle, can you sing?”
“Can you dance?”
“Where’s Beast?”
“Oh, he’ll join us later,” you say smoothly, praying Dylan survives the next ten minutes. “But for now…” You straighten dramatically. “Who would like to hear a story?”
A chorus of screams answers you.
Then you start singing.
And the entire party quiets.
Not because you’re loud.
Because you’re good.
Your voice carries softly through the backyard while the kids sit cross-legged around you, completely enchanted. You smile at each of them like they matter individually. Like this isn’t just another exhausting gig at the end of a long week.
Across the lawn, Bucky looks up almost by accident.
And immediately regrets it.
Because now he’s looking at you.
Fairy lights glow softly above your head while children crowd around your skirts, completely enchanted by every word that leaves your mouth. You laugh at something one of them says, bright and easy and real enough that it reaches him even from across the yard.
And for one strange second—
You don’t look like someone pretending to be a princess.
You look like one.
Then your eyes lift suddenly.
Find his across the crowd.
Bucky expects the usual reaction instantly.
The hesitation.
The recognition.
That brief flicker people always get when they realize who he is.
Instead, your expression softens.
Just slightly.
Like seeing him standing there alone somehow matters to you more than it should.
And the smile you give him—
God.
It’s small.
Almost shy.
But warm enough that he actually feels it.
Like sunlight slipping through something cracked open.
You hold his gaze for one tiny, suspended second longer than necessary before turning back to the children beside you.
But now your heartbeat feels different too.
Because there was something unexpectedly gentle in the way he looked at you.
Bucky watches Morgan stare at you like you hung the damn moon.
Watches you stay perfectly in character when another kid spills juice on the hem of your dress.
You don’t even flinch.
“Accidents happen,” you tell the horrified child gently. “Even in castles.”
Something in his chest shifts unpleasantly.
Or pleasantly.
He hasn’t decided yet.
Because normally, people trying too hard to be sweet annoys him.
But you kneel to talk to the children at eye level. You remember every single name they tell you. When Morgan grabs your hand during the story, you squeeze back automatically without breaking character once.
None of it feels fake.
Which is exactly the problem.
Bucky exhales slowly through his nose, already irritated with himself.
You’re midway through teaching Morgan and three other children how to properly curtsy when your phone starts vibrating inside the hidden pocket sewn into your dress.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Your stomach drops instantly.
Because only one person would call you repeatedly during a job.
“Princess Belle,” Morgan says seriously, tugging your glove, “Amelia says princesses aren’t allowed to eat chicken nuggets.”
You crouch slightly. “Amelia has clearly never met a princess after a long day.”
Morgan gasps. “You eat nuggets?”
“In alarming quantities.”
The children dissolve into laughter.
Your phone buzzes again.
Definitely Dylan.
“Excuse me one moment,” you say gently. “The castle may be under attack.”
Morgan grabs your skirt dramatically. “By who?”
You glance at the phone screen.
Dylan: I THINK IM DYING
“…the French.”
You slip away before the kids can ask further questions.
The second you push through the side doors into the hallway, you answer.
“What happened?”
“I threw up.”
You stop walking. “What?”
“I told you I was gonna throw up.”
“Oh my God.”
“Also,” he says weakly, “I think I have a fever.”
You press your fingers to your forehead.
Of course he does.
Of course this happens at Tony Stark’s house.
“Can you still come out for the photos at least?”
A miserable pause.
“…if I move too fast I think I’ll see God.”
“Great.”
“I’m so sorry.”
And the worst part?
He genuinely sounds devastated.
You sigh, leaning against the wall. “It’s okay. Stay in the dressing room. Drink water. Don’t die before I get paid.”
“That’s fair.”
You hang up.
Then immediately turn and nearly collide with Pepper Potts.
“Oh!” she says. “There you are. Morgan’s asking for—” She stops instantly. “What’s wrong?”
You try to smile professionally.
It must fail horribly.
“The Beast actor is sick.”
Pepper blinks once.
“Oh no.”
“Yeah.”
“He can’t come out at all?”
“He’s currently fighting for his life in the dressing room bathroom.”
Pepper’s face cycles rapidly through concern, stress, and the specific exhaustion only rich parents hosting children’s parties can achieve.
Because unfortunately, the timing is terrible.
Kids are already gathering near the photo backdrop.
Morgan keeps asking when Beast is coming.
And somewhere nearby, you hear Tony Stark loudly saying, “I can absolutely do it.”
Pepper turns sharply. “No.”
From the other room: “Why not? I have range.”
“You have an ego.”
“I can roar.”
“You have to greet people.”
“I can greet people as Beast.”
Pepper pinches the bridge of her nose.
You almost laugh despite yourself.
Then another voice joins in.
“…Tony’s right, though.”
You glance toward the doorway and nearly choke on your own heartbeat.
Because standing there casually like this is a completely normal Tuesday are two actual Avengers.
Captain America himself stands beside a man you recognize from the News. Sam Wilson.
You suddenly become intensely aware that you’re dressed as a Disney princess while holding a phone that still has Dylan: I THINK IM DYING on the screen.
This cannot be your life.
Sam leans against the doorway easily, looking far too entertained by the situation already.
But it’s the man beside him that catches your attention.
The same man from earlier.
The one who looked at you across the backyard like he’d forgotten, for a second, where he was.
Dark hair. Tall. Broad shoulders filling out a black Henley. Arms crossed tightly over his chest like he already wants no part in whatever conversation this is.
And yet somehow, standing this close to him now, you still feel that strange little pull from earlier.
Unlike the others, he isn’t smiling. If anything, he looks like he’d rather walk directly back out the door.
Sam’s eyes flick briefly toward you before landing on Pepper.
“All due respect,” he says, “I think we found a better option.”
Bucky narrows his eyes immediately, like he already knows where this is going.
Steve nods slowly, already betraying him. “Actually…”
Pepper looks between them hopefully. “Wait.”
Sam grins.
“Oh, this is perfect.”
Bucky straightens immediately. “Absolutely not.”
“You’re tall,” Sam says helpfully.
“So is Steve.”
Almost on cue, Morgan’s voice suddenly rings through the backyard.
“UNCLE AMERICA!”
Steve barely has time to react before a tiny blur in pink slams into his legs.
“There he is,” Bucky mutters.
Morgan grabs Steve’s hand immediately. “Come see my castle!”
And Steve actually lets himself get dragged away.
“You’re abandoning me?” Bucky calls after him.
Steve only throws him an apologetic smile over his shoulder before disappearing outside with Morgan.
Bucky looks deeply betrayed.
Sam looks delighted.
“You were saying?” Sam asks.
Bucky glares at him. “I hope your wings fall off.”
Pepper is visibly trying not to laugh now.
Meanwhile, you’re standing there clutching your phone like your entire career is collapsing in front of you.
“I really don’t want to cause trouble,” you say quickly. “I can just explain to Morgan that Beast got delayed—”
“Morgan’s seven,” Pepper says softly. “She’s been talking about this dance all week.”
Guilt hits instantly.
Bucky notices.
And unfortunately for him, Sam notices Bucky noticing.
Which means it’s over.
“Buck,” Sam says, suddenly far too smug, “you wouldn’t even have to talk much.”
“No.”
“You’d just stand there looking grumpy.”
“No.”
“You already do that recreationally.”
“Why don’t you do it?” Bucky shoots back immediately.
Sam places a hand dramatically over his chest. “Because I’m beautiful in a completely different genre.”
“I’m gonna kill you.”
“See? Beast energy.”
Bucky looks at you then.
Really looks at you for the first time up close.
The gold dress.
The nervous expression you’re trying to hide.
The way your hands twist together for half a second before you force yourself still again.
You look exhausted.
But somehow you’re still worried about disappointing a little girl.
And that annoying feeling in his chest returns.
Stronger this time.
Pepper steps closer carefully. “Bucky,” she says softly, “could you help us out? Just for a little while.”
He exhales slowly.
Looks toward the backyard where Morgan’s laughter drifts through the open doors.
Then back at you.
“…I hate all of you,” he mutters.
Sam lights up instantly. “That’s not a no.”
“It should be.”
Pepper smiles hopefully. “Bucky?”
He closes his eyes briefly like a man accepting his fate.
“…fine.”
The room goes silent.
You blink. “Wait. Really?”
Bucky points at you immediately. “This doesn’t leave this house.”
Sam nearly folds in half laughing.
And ten minutes later, you’re backstage beside a very grumpy Beast while trying to adjust the dark blue coat around his shoulders.
The costume department clearly did not account for super soldiers.
The fabric pulls tight across his chest every time he moves.
Bucky notices you staring immediately.
You step closer carefully, adjusting the fur near the collar.
“I’m sorry if the costume’s too tight,” you murmur. “The actor who usually plays Beast is… significantly less built.”
Bucky huffs quietly.
“That’s one way to say it.”
Up close, he’s unfairly intimidating.
Dark blue fabric stretched over muscle. Gloves hiding the metal hand completely.
Even the ridiculous Beast mask somehow makes him look dangerous.
Which feels deeply unfair for a Disney prince.
“You know,” you say gently while fixing one of the gold buttons, “you really don’t have to do this.”
Bucky looks down at you.
Then toward the backyard where Morgan’s excited voice carries faintly through the doors.
“…yeah,” he says quietly.
A pause.
“I kinda do.”
Before either of you can say anything else, the dressing room door swings open and Morgan storms in dramatically.
“BEAST!”
The little girl launches herself directly at Bucky.
Every muscle in his body visibly locks.
You almost panic for him.
But then, carefully, awkwardly, he catches her before she can crash face-first into the costume.
Morgan gasps, completely enchanted. “You’re so tall.”
Bucky looks at you, and somehow you know that beneath the mask, he looks completely helpless.
You grin. “That’s Beast.”
Morgan grabs his gloved hand immediately. “Belle said you were late because of a curse.”
Bucky looks down at her.
“…yeah,” he says after a second. “Traffic curse.”
You snort so suddenly you choke on air.
Morgan is already dragging him toward the doors with alarming strength for a seven-year-old.
You smooth your dress quickly before following after them, trying to slip back into character.
But it’s harder now for some reason.
Because this doesn’t feel like part of the performance anymore.
You barely know him.
You know he looks permanently annoyed at the world. You know children somehow trust him instantly despite the terrifying resting expression.
And you know he agreed to wear a giant Beast costume for a little girl he clearly adores.
Which is doing unfortunate things to your brain.
The backyard erupts the second Morgan reappears with him.
“BEAST!”
Children swarm immediately.
Bucky freezes.
Again.
You quickly step beside him before the poor man fully short-circuits.
“Oh dear,” you say brightly in Belle’s voice, slipping naturally into the scene. “The Beast seems overwhelmed.”
“I wonder why,” he mutters under his breath.
You hide another smile.
The next twenty minutes become complete chaos.
Children asking Bucky impossible questions.
“Do you live in the castle?”
“Can you roar?”
“Why are your hands so big?”
One tiny girl stares at him suspiciously before asking, “Are you hairy everywhere?”
You nearly inhale your own tongue trying not to laugh.
Bucky looks ready to walk directly into the ocean.
But somehow he stays.
He does the photos.
Lets kids hold his hands.
Even growls once after Morgan begs him to.
The children lose their minds.
Across the yard, Sam is recording the whole thing while Steve laughs so hard he has to sit down.
You catch Pepper wiping tears from her eyes at one point.
Probably from laughing.
Probably.
Then the music changes.
Soft piano drifting through the speakers.
Your stomach drops instantly.
The dance scene.
Morgan gasps dramatically. “NOW!”
Bucky goes still beside you.
“No.”
“Oh yes,” you say, smiling at him through clenched teeth.
“I don’t dance.”
“You’re literally a prince.”
“I’m literally not.”
Morgan grabs both your hands and shoves them together before either of you can react.
And suddenly—
Oh.
Your gloved hand lands against his.
His hand settles carefully at your waist.
The other wraps around your fingers.
You feel him hesitate.
Not because he doesn’t know how to dance.
Because he’s trying not to hurt you.
The realization hits instantly.
“It’s okay,” you say softly before thinking better of it.
His gaze flicks down to yours through the mask.
The world around you keeps moving, kids laughing, phones taking pictures, Sam yelling something obnoxious in the background, but for one strange second, it narrows into just this.
The warmth of his hand.
The carefulness in the way he’s holding you.
The fact that he smells faintly like coffee under all the costume fabric.
“You trust people too easy,” he says quietly.
You blink.
“That’s a weird thing to say during a Disney dance.”
“You didn’t answer.”
You should probably make a joke.
Instead, your eyes catch briefly on his gloved fingers resting against your waist.
Gentle despite the strength behind them.
Then Morgan yells, “KISS HER!”
Both of you jump apart instantly.
“Nope,” Bucky says immediately.
“Absolutely not,” you add at the exact same time.
The music softens around you, warm piano drifting through the backyard while fairy lights glow overhead.
Bucky Barnes keeps one hand at your waist, the other holding yours carefully as he guides you through the slow steps.
Too carefully.
Like he’s afraid to press too hard.
Like he’s constantly aware of himself.
His hand tightens at your waist without warning, pulling you just a little closer each time. Close enough that you can feel the heat of him even through the heavy costume layers. And whenever he leans down to hear you over the music, a shiver runs all the way down your spine.
The music softens around you, warm piano drifting through the backyard while fairy lights glow overhead.
You glance up at him just as he looks down at your feet.
“…am I doin’ this right?” he asks quietly.
His voice comes out rough and muffled beneath the Beast mask, low enough that you almost don’t hear it over the music.
The question catches you completely off guard.
Because he sounds genuinely unsure.
You blink once. “You know how to dance.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Something warm twists painfully in your chest.
His grip tightens slightly at your waist.
“Don’t wanna mess this up.”
You smile softly. “You know, most princes are a little more confident during the ballroom scene.”
“Yeah, well.” He exhales quietly. “Pretty sure this prince skipped rehearsal.”
That pulls a laugh out of you.
Bucky’s gaze lifts at the sound immediately.
Not to the children.
Not to the crowd.
Just you.
And for one strange second, the dance stops feeling like part of the performance at all.
Then, quieter this time:
“…seriously, though,” he murmurs, thumb shifting faintly against your waist, “I’m not crushin’ your feet, am I?”
Your heartbeat stumbles embarrassingly hard.
“No,” you whisper. “You’re perfect.”
This is getting dangerous. Because somewhere between the dancing and the quiet way he keeps looking at you, this stopped feeling like part of the job.
You clear your throat quickly and pull back just enough to look over his shoulder.
“Morgan!” you call brightly.
Across the dance floor, Morgan gasps dramatically like she’s been summoned by destiny itself.
“Princess Morgan,” you say sweetly, already stepping away from Bucky before your brain completely melts, “I believe the Beast owes you a dance.”
Morgan screams.
Actually screams.
Bucky looks at you immediately.
You give him your most innocent Belle smile.
His eyes narrow under the mask. “You’re ditching me.”
“I would never.”
“You literally are right now.”
Morgan crashes into him before he can argue further, grabbing both his hands excitedly.
“C’MON BEAST!”
Bucky looks at you one last time over her head.
“You’re trouble,” he says flatly.
Your pulse jumps embarrassingly hard.
Before you can answer, Morgan drags him away into the crowd of children demanding another dance.
The second he’s gone, you exhale.
Hard.
Then across the dance floor, Morgan spins dramatically beneath Bucky’s arm while he awkwardly tries to keep up without stepping on tiny children.
And despite the giant Beast costume and permanent grumpy expression he’s laughing.
You watch him crouch slightly when she talks so he can hear her better through the music. Watch him steady her automatically every time she nearly trips over her dress. Watch one huge gloved hand settle carefully at her back while she spins herself dizzy.
The Beast mask should make him look ridiculous.
Instead, somehow, it only makes the contrast worse.
Big and intimidating and visibly dangerous even under layers of fake fur—
Yet impossibly gentle with her.
Your chest tightens unexpectedly.
“Well,” a voice says beside you, “you’re lookin’ at him exactly the same way the kids are.”
You nearly jump.
Sam Wilson grins knowingly as he reaches for a cupcake from the dessert table.
“I am not.”
“Hm.”
“I don’t even know him.”
“That’s never stopped anybody before.”
You glare at him.
He grins wider.
Somehow, hours later, Morgan Stark still has enough energy to power a small country.
“Belle,” she says for what must be the twentieth time that night, “are you gonna stay forever?”
You smile tiredly, smoothing a hand over her hair. “I don’t think your dad has enough snacks for that.”
Tony points from across the yard. “I absolutely do.”
Pepper immediately says, “No, we don’t.”
Morgan giggles.
And beside her, the Beast exhales dramatically before lowering himself onto one knee with the exhaustion of a war veteran returning from battle.
“I’m old,” he mutters.
You laugh softly. “You danced with children for two hours.”
“I fought in actual wars that were easier than this.”
“You’re doing amazing, sweetie,” Sam calls from somewhere behind him.
The Beast lifts a gloved hand without looking and flips him off.
Morgan gasps.
You gasp louder. “Beast!”
Sam nearly collapses laughing.
“Sorry,” the Beast says flatly. “The curse slipped.”
Morgan thinks this is the funniest thing she’s ever heard in her life.
Honestly?
You do too.
A little later, Pepper gently steals Morgan away, leaving you alone beside the Beast for the first time all evening.
And suddenly the silence feels… different.
Not awkward exactly.
Just noticeable.
You become very aware of the night air against your skin. Of the weight of the wig pinned to your head. Of him sitting beside you with the Beast mask pushed up, revealing his face.
Which turns out to be a mistake.
Because he’s unfairly handsome.
You look away immediately.
“So,” you say, mostly to stop your brain from malfunctioning, “thanks again for saving my job tonight.”
He huffs quietly beside you. “Wasn’t for your job.”
Your eyes flick back to him.
“Morgan?”
“Morgan,” he confirms.
A beat passes.
Then, quieter:
“…you too, I guess.”
Your heart does something deeply irritating.
The corners of his mouth twitch slightly like he regrets admitting it already.
You smile before you can stop yourself.
“Careful,” you murmur. “You’re almost being nice to me.”
“That’s the mask.”
“Oh, right. Of course.”
“The fur changes a man.”
That earns another laugh out of you.
And again, that look crosses his face.
That brief pause like he wasn’t expecting the sound but likes it anyway.
You notice it this time.
From across the yard, Steve walks by carrying three children at once somehow.
“You surviving?” he asks.
The Beast sighs. “Barely.”
Steve grins, eyes flicking briefly between the two of you.
You suddenly get the horrible feeling everyone here knows each other too well.
Including whatever this weird thing currently happening between you and the grumpy fake prince is.
“So,” you say carefully after Steve leaves, “do you always volunteer for emergency Disney prince duty?”
He snorts softly.
“First time.”
“You seemed pretty experienced.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You handled the kids well.”
For a second, he doesn’t answer.
His gaze drifts toward Morgan laughing beside Pepper near the cake table.
Then he shrugs slightly.
“They’re easier than adults.”
You blink.
“…that’s actually the most concerning thing anyone’s said to me tonight.”
That finally gets a real smile out of him. Small. Crooked. Gone almost instantly.
But you saw it.
And unfortunately for your sanity, now you want to see it again.
“Cake!” Morgan announces like a war cry.
The children erupt instantly.
You barely have time to laugh before Morgan grabs both your hand and the Beast’s clawed one at the same time.
“C’mon!”
Bucky visibly braces himself.
Morgan leads you directly toward a tiny plastic table surrounded by miniature pink chairs.
Bucky stops walking immediately.
“No.”
Morgan gasps. “What?”
“I can’t fit in that.”
“You have to sit with Belle!”
Children nearby immediately begin chanting:
“BEAST! BEAST! BEAST!”
Bucky looks personally betrayed by every child present.
You press your lips together hard, trying not to laugh while lowering yourself carefully into one of the tiny chairs.
The skirt of your dress spills around you in soft yellow satin.
Across from you, Bucky stares at the chair like it insulted his family.
“You’re doing great,” you tell him helpfully.
“I hate you.”
“That’s not very princely.”
“That’s because I’m not a prince.”
Morgan points dramatically at the seat.
Bucky sighs like a man moments from death.
Then lowers himself carefully into the tiny chair.
The plastic creaks ominously.
Every child at the table gasps.
You fully choke on a laugh.
Bucky turns toward you slowly through the Beast mask.
Morgan shoves paper plates toward both of you proudly while Pepper begins passing out cake.
And honestly?
It’s cute.
Ridiculously cute.
Children talking over each other excitedly. Frosting everywhere. Morgan sitting between you and Bucky like she personally arranged a royal wedding.
Then Morgan accidentally gets blue frosting across her own cheek.
“Oh no!” she gasps.
You laugh softly, grabbing a napkin. “Hold still, princess.”
While you wipe frosting from Morgan’s face, you completely miss the tiny streak of blue icing that ended up on your own cheek.
Bucky notices immediately.
And unfortunately—
Now he can’t stop looking at it.
You’re talking to Morgan about castles or books or something, but he’s not listening anymore.
Because there’s frosting on your face, near the corner of your mouth.
And somehow that feels more distracting than the dress.
Than the dancing.
Than literally anything else tonight.
“You got somethin’ there,” he says suddenly.
You blink. “What?”
He gestures vaguely toward his own cheek with one giant clawed glove.
“…there.”
You try wiping it away blindly.
“Did I get it?”
“No.”
“Great.”
Bucky stares at the stupid oversized Beast gloves for a second like he’s reconsidering every decision that led him here tonight.
Then, carefully, he reaches across the tiny table.
His claw brushes softly against your cheek.
Warm despite the gloves.
You stop breathing entirely.
He tries wiping the frosting away—
Except the giant fake claw only smears it worse across your skin.
You stare at him.
He stares at the disaster he just created.
Then, very flatly:
“…I made it worse.”
From somewhere behind him, you hear Sam make a noise suspiciously close to choking.
Your laugh slips out before you can stop it.
Soft at first.
Then brighter.
“It’s okay,” you manage between laughs. “You tried.”
And before you can think better of it, you lean forward slightly.
“There,” you murmur.
Your fingers brush gently against the corner of his mouth, wiping away a streak of blue frosting Morgan must’ve gotten on him earlier.
The second you touch him—
He freezes.
Completely.
Your smile falters just slightly.
Because suddenly you’re very aware of how quiet he got.
How still.
How carefully he’s looking at you now.
Like your hand against his face means something bigger than it should.
Morgan looks between both of you while happily shoving cake into her mouth.
“…you guys are weird.”
Sam immediately loses his mind laughing somewhere behind the table.
And Bucky?
Bucky can’t even argue with her.
The party finally begins to quiet down sometime after cake.
Children are asleep on couches inside the house. Half-deflated balloons drift lazily across the backyard. Someone turned the music low enough that it blends into the warm night air instead of filling it.
And Morgan Stark is fully asleep in Bucky Barnes’s arms.
It happens slowly.
One minute she’s still talking sleepily about whether Belle and Beast would survive a zombie apocalypse and the next, her head slips against his shoulder mid-sentence.
Out cold.
You smile before you can stop yourself.
Bucky looks down at her carefully, adjusting his hold automatically so she settles more comfortably against his chest.
The Beast gloves are gone now.
The mask too.
And without them, he somehow looks softer and more dangerous at the same time.
Dark hair messy from wearing the costume all night. Sleeves pushed up slightly. Tired eyes watching Morgan with this quiet kind of patience that makes something ache in your chest.
Pepper appears beside you with the expression of a woman who’s one minor inconvenience away from sleeping for three days.
“Oh no,” she whispers fondly. “She’s done.”
Bucky huffs quietly. “Yeah.”
Pepper reaches for Morgan carefully. “I’ll take her upstairs.”
For a second, Morgan stirs slightly against him.
Then tiny fingers grab weakly at the front of his shirt.
“No,” she mumbles sleepily. “Beast stays.”
Your heart actually hurts.
Bucky goes very still.
Pepper looks dangerously close to emotional already.
And after a tiny pause, Bucky murmurs:
“Alright. I’m stayin’.”
Morgan settles instantly.
You swear Pepper might love him a little for that.
Eventually, between the three of you, Morgan is successfully transferred upstairs without waking again.
And then—
The silence.
Just you and him standing alone beneath strings of warm lights while the last few party guests drift out through the gates.
The yellow skirts of your dress brush softly against your legs every time the wind moves.
Bucky looks at you for a second too long.
Then looks away.
Then back again.
“You know,” he says quietly, voice rougher now without the mask muffling it, “that dress is kinda unfair.”
Your breath catches embarrassingly fast.
Because he says it like it slipped out accidentally.
Like he didn’t mean to say it aloud.
Heat crawls up your neck immediately.
So naturally, you deflect.
“Good thing the costume covered your face then.”
A tiny smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.
Then his gaze shifts briefly past you.
Toward the tables scattered across the backyard.
Most of the candles have burned low by now. Half-empty glasses abandoned beside crumpled napkins. Flower centerpieces beginning to droop after hours in the heat.
And right in the middle of one arrangement there is a single rose.
Bucky tilts his head slightly. “Thought Belle was supposed to have a rose.”
You blink, caught off guard by the comment.
Then laugh softly. “You know the story?”
He gives you a look.
“Steve made me watch animated movies for cultural rehabilitation.”
A laugh slips out of you instantly. “That cannot be a real sentence.”
“It absolutely is.”
“You poor thing.”
“I survived.”
“Barely.”
You laugh again.
One large hand closes around the stem of a red rose tucked between candles and gold ribbon.
And without ceremony he pulls it free.
You stare as he turns back toward you, holding it out casually like this isn’t doing very dangerous things to your heartbeat. You shake your head, smiling as you take the rose carefully from his hand.
His fingers brush yours for half a second.
Warm.
Gentle.
And somehow that tiny touch feels worse than the dancing did.
“You just stole from Tony Stark,” you murmur.
“He’ll survive.”
“You’re a criminal.”
“I’ve been told.”
And for one soft, dangerous second the fairy tale feels a little too real.
And suddenly the air feels too warm.
The fairy lights above you blur softly while your heartbeat pounds hard enough to be embarrassing.
Because there’s something very unfair about the way he looks at you now.
Not like Belle.
Not like part of the performance.
Like you.
And the worst part?
You think maybe he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
A nervous laugh escapes you quietly. “You flirt a lot for someone who looked physically offended to be here earlier.”
“I was physically offended.”
“You’re doing better now.”
“That’s debatable.”
You smile.
His eyes drop briefly to your mouth.
And there it is.
That terrible, dangerous pause.
The kind that changes things.
Your heartbeat stumbles.
One more inch and—
Bucky steps back first.
Like the thought alone startled him. He glances toward the house, jaw tightening once when he realizes he doesn’t know how to do this anymore.
Doesn’t know how to stand in soft light with a beautiful girl dressed like a princess smiling at him like he’s someone safe to be around.
Not after everything.
Not when she still looks at him with warmth instead of caution.
Someone like you should probably meet someone normal.
Someone uncomplicated.
Not a man who spent half the evening hiding behind a Beast mask because it somehow felt easier than being himself.
And maybe that’s why, after a long pause, he just says quietly:
“You should get home. It’s late.”
The words hit harder than they should.
But you still smile softly. “Yeah. Probably.”
Neither of you move right away.
Then finally, you step back.
“Goodnight,” you say gently.
Bucky nods once.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
The nickname lands directly in your chest.
And then you leave.
Just like that.
No number exchanged.
No big moment.
Bucky watches until your taillights disappear through the gates.
And something in his chest feels suddenly, violently empty.
“…you are the dumbest man alive.”
Bucky closes his eyes immediately.
Of course Sam Wilson is still here.
“I don’t wanna hear it.”
“You didn’t even ask for her number!”
Bucky drags a hand down his face tiredly. “Sam.”
“No, seriously,” Sam says, horrified. “What was your plan here? Just suffer forever?”
Bucky glares at him. “I’m serious.”
“And I’m devastated for you.”
“I don’t—” He exhales sharply. “She’s sweet.”
Sam blinks once.
“…that’s your argument?”
“She deserves someone normal.”
“None of us are normal.”
“That’s different.”
Sam opens his mouth—
Then pauses suddenly.
His eyes drop toward the patio floor near Bucky’s boots.
“…hold on.”
Bucky frowns. “What.”
Sam points dramatically.
And there, half-hidden beneath one of the chairs, sits a pair of gold heels.
Tiny.
Definitely not his.
Bucky stares at them for a second.
Then something in his expression shifts almost immediately.
Because he remembers you wincing every few steps near the end of the party. Remembers you carrying the shoes in one hand while walking barefoot through the grass. Remembers the yellow dress brushing around your ankles while fairy lights reflected softly against your skin.
A quiet laugh escapes him before he can stop it.
Sam looks deeply offended by the existence of this emotion.
“Oh my God,” he says. “I thought she was Belle, not Cinderella.”
Bucky shoots him a look while bending to pick up the heels carefully.
They’re ridiculously delicate in his hands.
Sam watches the whole thing with growing horror.
“You are gone,” he says.
Bucky ignores him, thumb brushing absently over the gold strap.
Then, before he can think too hard about why he’s doing it, he glances toward the gates one last time.
Like maybe you’ll magically come running back for them.
Sam stares at him for a long moment.
Then slowly reaches into his pocket.
Bucky narrows his eyes immediately. “What’s that.”
Without answering, Sam holds out a small business card.
The princess company logo printed across the front.
Summary: Lee's plans for a quiet morning are interrupted by his girlfriend, who woke up hornier and more capricious than usual.
Tags: MDNI! +18, sexual content (if you are underage, do not interact with this work or I will block you), age difference (Lee in his forties), adult reader, porn without plot, p in v, unprotected sex (please use it), daddy kink, spanking (use of hand and belt), table sex, rough sex, dirty talk, Lee's ass fixation, creampie, no y/n, nicknames (use of slut). My native language is not English, so there may be possible mistakes (especially since my trusted translator isn't working). No corrections because it's 3 am and I'm going to schedule the publication.
Notes: I haven't posted anything in a while because I haven't managed to finish my drafts, but I finally had a burst of inspiration tonight after seeing the gif (which I found on Pinterest, by the way). I've been wanting to write something about Lee for a while now, and I finally got around to it today.
Masterlist.
The cool morning air gently caressed Lee's face as he gazed listlessly at the verdant horizon.
Sunlight filtering through the pines cast lazy patterns on the wooden planks of the porch, where he sat waiting in his rocking chair.
His mood, initially calm, was beginning to sour as he watched the sun slowly climb higher; soon, the walk to the lake would be unbearable.
The night before, just before you'd fallen asleep from the exhaustion of an intense night out, he'd told you he wanted to take you early so you could admire the view and maybe dip your feet in the water. But now it was getting late, and you still hadn't gotten up.
Minutes ticked by, and he was about to get up to go find you himself when the soft rustling of your bare feet on the wood stopped him in his tracks.
When the screen opened, I expected to see you ready, shoes dangling from your hands. Instead, you appeared disheveled, wrapped in his white sheriff's shirt, which fit you like a little dress.
"Good morning, darling." You crooned sweetly as you approached.
You settled into his lap naturally, as if it had always been your place. Your legs swung over the armrest, one arm encircling his neck and the other resting on his cheek, pulling him closer to leave a series of soft kisses on his skin.
His hands, almost instinctively, went to your waist and hips. His fingers tightened slightly against the fabric when you pressed your breasts against his, his fingers not feeling the lace of your panties beneath your shirt.
"We had plans for this morning, remember?" He murmured, with a hint of displeasure.
But you continued kissing him, tracing his cheek to his jawline, feeling the light brush of his stubble without it bothering you.
Your body moved gently against his, and your persistence finally betrayed you: you had woken up today particularly demanding of his attention.
"It doesn't matter… we can do it tomorrow."
And also… a little capricious.
He had to fix that.
Your hand gently pulled her face closer to yours, placing short, impatient kisses on his lips, which he didn't return, making you let out a soft moan.
Lee let out a low sigh, more resigned than annoyed.
The lake, the walk, the tranquility he had planned... All of that seemed to slip away with every second you tried to provoke him, to quell the hunger you'd woken up with.
"You always do the same thing, beautiful..." he murmured against your lips.
His fingers, which had been tense, finally relaxed, only to slide beneath your shirt. He squeezed the flesh of your hip before leaning his head back slightly to return your insistent kisses with that slow, sensuality you loved.
There was something about the way you settled in, the confidence with which you invaded his space, that disarmed almost any attempt to stand firm.
Almost.
Because Lee loved putting you in your place.
And you loved it when he did.
His hand on your back gathered the fabric into a fist, leaving your bottom exposed so he could caress and squeeze those perfect, tender globes of flesh.
"I should get you something shorter than my shirts..." he murmured huskily as his lips traced your jawline. "Maybe a cute apron, so I can watch that cute little bottom peek out every time you bend down to take the cookies out of the oven..."
The rocking chair creaked softly as he moved you just enough to make you feel his growing interest beneath you.
A small shiver ran down your spine as Lee's hand began to travel up your side until it reached your breasts. His thumb brushed against your nipple with deliberate pressure, and you let out a longing sigh.
"Damn, look at you," he whispered, his voice husky, deep with desire. "This little slut barely woke up and she's already craving Daddy's attention."
He caressed your entire chest. Calluses dug into your sensitive skin in a way that made you arch at his touch as your folds moistened.
Lee unbuttoned your shirt just enough to expose your breasts to the morning air, and his mouth latched onto them in a dirty, open suction, a suction that made you moan with delight at the attention you were receiving. Lee only pulled back to see it glisten with the smear of his saliva.
His hand moved back down to grasp your ass, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh as his hips moved up, rubbing his erection against you.
"You're a tease."
His breath hit your ear before his teeth caught your lobe, tugging playfully as his palm slapped your ass. The high-pitched sound echoed through the trees, accompanied by your squeal.
"Daddy likes to spank me..." you whispered, already incredibly aroused by the heat on your buttocks.
Lee's laughter was rough with excitement.
"Of course he does," he growled, delivering another hard slap that made you shudder against him. "A cute little ass, all red and marked, just for me... Fucking perfect."
"D-Daddy..." you squealed as his hand slapped harder, making your hips clench against his.
Your buttocks were painted a soft pink, the outline of his fingers imprinted on your skin, and a heat that only made you crave more, your pussy a testament to that.
“I’m going to drag you back inside,” he promised in his dark voice. “Daddy will show you what real spanking feels like when I have you bent over the table.”
His palm landed again, stinging more this time. Your gasp in response made his cock twitch beneath you, straining against the denim.
The rocking chair protested violently as he suddenly stood up, pinning your legs beneath your knees and placing his other hand on your back, while your arms clung to his neck.
You desperately sought his lips, kissing him with need and passion, feeling his tongue slip into your mouth as he managed to open the screen door and enter the cabin to take you where he promised.
You moaned in protest as Lee broke the kiss so he could release your legs and force you to let go. With his hands on your hips, he turned you around, bending you over the wooden dining table, your ass at his mercy.
His hands caressed your hot cheeks, pushing your shirt higher up your waist.
Lee's breath was ragged as he yanked off his belt. The leather slid through the denim belt loops with a hiss that made your thighs tremble.
"Look at you..." He growled. His free hand smoothed the hot curve of your ass. "All pretty and pink, begging for more..."
The first slash of the belt landed with a crunch that made you jump up on your tiptoes. Your answering cry echoed off the cabin walls as your fingers gripped the edges of the table.
"D-Daddy!"
"Harder," he demanded as his boot pushed against your foot, spreading your legs wider. "I want more of those sweet little sounds."
He dragged the cold leather between your legs, spreading your moisture across the material and making you moan for the brief attention where you needed it most.
Another lash, this one lower, right where your ass met your thigh, made your back arch wildly and your pussy drip even more. Your eyes soon watered from the pleasurable pain that was starting to turn your ass red.
The belt whistled through the air again, followed by another crack accompanied by your whimpers.
"You love that, huh?" His hand reached possessively over where the leather had kissed your skin. "You're all wet like the little slut you are," he growled.
His thumb slid between your folds, collecting some of your lubrication, and then two fingers went separately to your clitoris, rubbing it just enough to make you sob. But then he pulled his hand away again.
The next lash was deliberately harder, enough to make you jerk your hips forward and your pussy rub against the cold wood.
"Daddy... I-I need you so much, Daddy..." you moaned through tears. "I'll be a good girl and take what you give me."
Each strike of the belt against your sensitive skin made you sob and writhe against the table, finding pleasure in rubbing your swollen clitoris against the edge.
Lee's own hips jerked involuntarily as he watched you rub against him, staining the table with your aroused fluids. Your young, sweet, and angelic appearance contrasted sharply with the needy and desperate girl you truly were.
You were the dirtiest and most exciting image he had ever seen in his entire life.
It only took a few taps of the belt and the intense thrusts of your hips for you to gasp and moan your orgasm. A sharp, short one, leaving you not entirely satisfied.
His breath caught in his throat as your thighs trembled, and he dropped the belt to the floor.
"Ruined by just Daddy's belt marks on this gorgeous ass," he hissed, gripping your hips tightly.
One of his hands slid through the mess between your legs, collecting your lubrication before sliding two fingers inside without warning.
Your walls tightened around him instantly, and the moment his fingers curled, pressing and massaging exactly where they needed to, you arched your back against the table and sobbed with delight as your legs twisted.
His fingers withdrew, and before you could complain, the metallic click of your zipper being lowered kept you silent and eager.
Lee barely lowered his clothes enough for his cock to spring free, followed by the wet thud of his bare skin hitting your wet folds.
"Stay put," he ordered, his voice tense, as he guided himself to your hypersensitive entrance. "I'm going to give you what that greedy cunt has been asking for."
With a brutal thrust, he enveloped himself, up to the hilt, in your hot, dripping cunt. His groan joined your shattered sob as your walls contracted around him.
"Fuck! That's right... Squeeze me that hard."
His hips moved forward, pressing you harder against the table.
"Oh, God!" you moaned, trembling and tearful. "Y-You always fill me up so good, Daddy!"
Your hands went to your buttocks, which were hot and red from the previous rough treatment, to spread them apart and let him fill you completely with each violent thrust.
"Mine," he growled as his hand went to the back of your neck to keep you pressed against the wood.
The smacking of skin against skin muffled your moans as he thrust roughly, seeking his own orgasm. His grunts were harsh and heart-rending.
Lee realized you were close to orgasm because of the way your pussy was sucking him in harder and your moans and whimpers were higher than before because of the heat and tingling that swirled in your belly. He redoubled his efforts, further abusing your delicate pussy.
"S-Shit, baby." He groaned breathlessly. “I’m going to fill you up, you’re going to drip so much.”
His rhythm faltered, then stopped; his release flooded you with a groan that vibrated through your spine as you reached an overwhelming orgasm that left you breathless and weak.
The cabin fell silent, except for your shared gasps; he released the back of your neck and his forehead fell between your shoulder blades as he caught his breath.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader [Second Person Narrator]
Summary: You meet so many interesting people in your line of work.
Word Count: 1.9K
Warnings: Lloyd being Lloyd, Theft/Heist, Criminal Activity, Suggestive Themes and Dialogue, Flirting, Barely Edited. Minors do not interact (18+).
A/N: Did I write this in about three days? Yes, yes I did. For @thezombieprostitute’s Let’s Plan a Heist challenge. Got struck by an idea and couldn’t let it go. Here are the prompts I used:
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Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!
Lloyd sighs. His hand swiping over his face. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“It worked didn’t it,” you reply, loosing your skirt from its place tucked up and away from your legs and smoothing it out. “How else was I supposed to get the layout of this place? It’s too damn big.” You stretch your arms and sigh. “Who needs to live in a house this huge?” You direct your partner around a corner and down a hallway. Your heels click on the marble floors and you stop in your tracks. “Thank Jesus, a reason to take these off.”
The shoes clatter off of your feet. You smile. Sweet, sweet relief.
“Won’t you need those later, twinkle toes?”
You scoff and sweep them off the floor, pushing them into his chest with a condescending smirk before picking up an empty champagne bottle from the side table.
“You can hold them for me,” you say, adding a somewhat convincing slur to your words, if you do say so yourself. Just in case.
He roll his eyes with a grumble and adjusts the shoes in his grip, weighing them each in his hands—at least he’s making himself useful.
“Shit, shit, shit, that stings.” Lloyd hisses and shakes his hand out. The wires dropped from his fingers the second they sparked together and caught his skin.
“Quit being a baby and hurry up,” you hiss. Your eyes darting once again to your watch. “We’ve got five minutes before they’re back by here again and we need to not be.”
“Jesus, woman, shut up.”
Your fingers pinch his ear before he can snark anymore. Nails dig into his cartilage, your fingers twisting it painfully.
“Ow, ow, ow! Let go,” he hisses, glaring up at you.
“You do not speak to me like that.”
“Alright. God,” he concedes, hands raised in surrender.
You release him and he returns to the wires. One more spark and the door slides open to let you slink inside.
“Are you sure it’s secure?”
Your cleavage heaves with the deep sigh that fills your lungs. “It’s fine. We just need to blend in for another twenty minutes before making our exit.”
“But couldn’t it slip out?” he asks, unable—or unwilling—to drop the subject. He stares at your chest like he wants to crawl in and check for himself.
You adjust yourself, breasts bouncing and his eyes locked hungrily on the movement. He licks his lips. You cut him with a glare. “You have somewhere else I could put it? Up your ass maybe?”
“That’s not what I want inside me, cupcake.”
You groan and resist the urge to use your champagne bottle prop as a blunt force weapon against your partner.
You reenter the ballroom. The ballet troupe taking their final bows from their exhibition. Perfect timing as planned.
Your hands clap, blending you into those applauding. Your heels remain tucked into the crook of Lloyd’s arm. You’ll get those back in a moment.
“Oh, fuck me,” you groan.
“It’d be a pleasure. You just tell me when and where.”
You scoff and spin your partner so he can get a look at what you saw—rather, who you saw entering the party.
“Might need to cut and run,” you whisper to him. “He’s the one that’s been on my tail for the last six months. Insurance investigator or cop or something. He won’t give it up.” You steer your dance toward the edge of the floor.
“If you would quit leading, we might actually blend in,” Lloyd snipes back.
Your eyes flash toward him and narrow. “Why would I do that? If I let you lead, we’d already be caught.”
“God, I love when you’re mean,” Lloyd growls, tipping his head toward your neck. His breath brushes across your collarbones. It’s a practiced performance of intimacy, but you wonder how much of it is just show.
You click your teeth in disgust. But slip back on the guise of being happy in your partner’s arms as the man starts making his way around the dance floor.
You mutter another expletive under your breath. Lloyd glances over his shoulder.
“Jesus tits, who would invite the goody two-shoes, anyway?” Lloyd curses. “I know all about sticking things up people’s asses, but that man has a rod jammed so far up there—”
“Shut up,” you cut him off, jamming your heel into his toe.
He hisses through his teeth, but keeps a smile on his face. “You better take care of it, princess,” he grits, “or this whole thing will amount to bupkis.” He leans close to your ear. “And we all know how Mr. Fowler feels about being cheated by his hired help.”
“I swear I’ve seen you before.”
You press a demure smile. “I would remember someone as handsome as you.”
His brow quirks, eyes pinching with confusion.
“What?”
“I just didn’t—nothing.” His head shakes, lips pressing shut.
You let him lead you around the dance floor. His eyes sweeping the space. Ah, you see. He’s looking for you undercover. Did the host invite him or did he invite himself? Does he have someone helping him?
He pulls his hand from behind your back to tug at his collar. He’s not used to it—cute.
“Someone you’re looking for?” you ask, as his gaze sweeps the party again and you try to keep your amusement smothered.
He blinks back to you. Deer in the headlights. “I think I might’ve found what I’m looking for, actually.” His smile is far too blinding. Unfair how his handsome features light up with it as forced as it is.
“Oh? Wanna clue me in, detective?”
His shoulders tense. He nearly trips over his own feet. “Why do you think I’m a detective?”
“Ex-boyfriend. You walk the same way. Well, strut.”
His brow quirks. “It’s agent, actually.”
You make a noise of understanding.
“I’m looking for a thief.” He sweeps you away from the couple ready to bump into you. A wave of his cologne washing over you. Delicious. Your head goes just a bit dizzy. “Figured she’d be after the Blue Diamond of Alqualondë.”
“Oh,” you coo, heartbeat spiking with adrenaline—you’ll need to play this just right. “A lady thief. Have you seen her yet?” You make a point of glancing behind you and around the ballroom.
His jaw ticks. “No one’s seen her. She’s like a ghost. Hitting a place and escaping before anyone figure out how. But I will find her.”
“Well,” you purr, voice dropping lower as you lean into him. The diamond jabs at your breast tissue, but you refrain from showing discomfort. Instead you shift closer to the agent, voice dropping low and suggestive. “You can search me all you want. Just to prove I’m not your target.”
He hums in the back of his throat. “That’s quite the offer.” His eyes drag over every inch of you. Burning like a caress. “But, instead, maybe you can answer me this.”
You nod. Alarms ring in your head, but you feign eagerness to keep him off your scent.
“I figure Mr. Solo would have quite the tight guest list. How’d you get an invitation to a swanky party like this?”
You press a mischievous smile. “Oh, I didn’t,” you chirp. His hands tense on you. His eyes sweeping over your head in a flash. But whatever he plans, he doesn’t get his chance as you continue, “I’m a plus one.”
“You look like you fit in here,” he says, a wary tilt to his head.
“Looks can be deceiving, agent…”
“Rogers.”
“Agent Rogers.”
You take the offered glass of champagne, sipping at the drink with a twitch of disgust on your lips.
“And there was a performance,” Agent Rogers inquires—prodding at something like he has this whole time.
You hum. “Yes, some Russian ballet or something.”
“Weren’t they Romanian?” His eyes narrow on your face.
You hum and flash a self-deprecating grimace. “I confess. My date was getting a little…impatient.” You lick your lips and let a smirk devil your lips. Your hand drifts down his arm and over his abs, tracing around his lower buttons. “We took the opportunity to step out for a moment so I could take care of business, as it were.” Your brow quirks with the innuendo and he clears his throat.
“Isn’t that a little—” He trails off, eyes flicking to your lips.
You pout them just a little—enjoying the effect you’ve elicited. “I’m only here because I’m paid to be, Rogers.”
He clears his throat again and glances away from you. “And where’s your date now? Point him out to me?”
You scan the room around you, Lloyd disappeared from the crowd. Good. Maybe he’s on the exit strategy. “He doesn’t appear to be here right now. Maybe he stepped out to powder his nose.”
“If he even exists.” He doesn’t think you hear him, but you do.
So he might be on to you. Still, you’re enjoying yourself—maybe a little too much.
“Pardon?” you ask, trailing your eyes across the planes of his chest before meeting his gaze.
His hand bands around your wrist, just shy of being a restraint. He plucks your touch from his chest. Tilts his head intimately close.
“Your date,” he enunciates, “he doesn’t exi—”
“There you are, kitten.” Lloyd’s arm wraps around your waist from behind. He drags you back and away from the suspicious agent. “I was looking for you.” The brush of his mustache against your cheek is enough to send a shudder down your spine. You’re only barely able to keep it at bay. “Daddy’s getting tired of all the bullshit. Why don’t we go have some actual fun?”
Agent Rogers’ lips clamp shut. You spin in Lloyd’s arms, slipping your hand up his chest and around the side of his throat.
“Anything you say,” you simper.
Lloyd releases you from his arms and begins to pull you away but you’re snagged by the wrist once more.
“I’ll see you again,” Agent Rogers promises with narrowed eyes before releasing you and turning to strut away in the opposite direction. Probably to regroup with his team.
Your eyes remain on his figure until he vanishes amongst the other bodies. There’s something about him. A covetous spark ignites low in your belly.
You stretch. The silk sheets slip from your body, exposing your chest to the cool morning air.
Amazing how long a pay day can last from a gem worth millions. Months, really, if you were careful. Definitely worth the splurge for the room.
The figure beside you grunts and turns over. His golden hair mussed. His features soft. Relaxed and at peace.
You let your fingers drift over his cheek. Maybe another time. You sigh and stand, the most delicious twinge between your thighs.
A pair of underwear. A bra. A flattering jumpsuit. Comfortably stylish boots. They all slip easily onto your figure. Accessories placed precisely to complete your look—your disguise. With one more glance in the mirror, you return to the bed.
You can’t help it. The urge overwhelms. You bend at the waist and brush a sweet kiss against Steve’s cheek. A goodbye. A see-you-again, if you’re lucky—or if he’s very good at his job.
Straightening, you find the window and duck outside to the small balcony. You perch on the railing and take a deep breath of early morning.
“I’ll find you again, you know,”Steve interrupts from the bed.
You turn over your shoulder. His lips tilted in a mischievous sort of smirk. Still wrapped in the sheets, arms folded under the pillow. No pretense of haste. You smile back at him.
“Oh, I do hope so, Agent Rogers,” you say, letting yourself slip over the railing and to the safety of your escape. The thrilling game begun once again.
A/N: whys this so soft lolll. Anyways, some farmer!bucky for @angsty-april
You’re elbow-deep in a clay pot, attempting to rehome a tulip bulb in the basin of your bathtub when Bucky gets home from work, hair sticking to his sweat-glistened skin.
“Hey baby.”
“Hi honey,” you call over your shoulder, eyes fixed on the bulb as you carefully work, not wanting to damage any root stems. “One sec.”
He peeks into the bathroom, grinning at the sight of you dirt covered and concentrated. “New one?”
“Nah, this one’s from the front yard,” you reply, and gingerly you release the plant into the new pot, hoping its fruits will enjoy its new home. “ hopefully it’ll stick.” You stand, brushing off your soil-covered fingers on your jeans. “You hungry?”
The sun from the setting day casts a warm glow through the window, illuminating the specks of dirt on your face, your hands, and the floor beneath you. He doesn’t mind. It’s part of you, part of this life you’ve built together—this quiet, simple life.
“I could eat,” he says, pushing off from the door and walking toward you. His boots clack on the tile floor, the sound grounding you in the moment as he closes the distance. His rough hands, calloused from the farm, gently tug you into his arms. The heat from his skin, still sticky with sweat from the day’s work, feels comforting.
“You look exhausted,” you murmur, feeling the tension in his muscles as you run your fingers along his shoulders. “How was the field today?”
“Same as always,” he replies, but his voice has a hint of something else in it. A weariness, maybe, or the weight of another long day spent tilling the earth, feeding the animals, working hard for what you both cherish. “But it’s worth it, coming home to this.”
You smile up at him, brushing a strand of hair from his face, his dark, sweat-dampened locks sticking to his forehead. “You’re the hardest-working man I know,” you say, your voice filled with a quiet reverence for him and the life he’s chosen.
He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Not as hard as you, garden queen,” he teases, and you can hear the affection in his words.
You both laugh softly, a shared, intimate sound that fills the space between you.
“Alright,” you say, stepping out of his embrace to grab a towel. “Let’s get dinner started. I think I’m in the mood for something simple tonight—maybe a stew?”
Bucky moves toward the kitchen, peeling off his muddy shirt and tossing it into the laundry basket. You watch him for a moment, taking in the way his muscles flex as he moves, the raw strength of him that makes your heart swell.
As you both fall into the rhythm of preparing dinner, chopping vegetables, stirring the pot, it feels easy. Quiet. No words are needed between you, just the soft sounds of the kitchen and the occasional hum of a song playing in the background. You move around one another with practiced ease, each movement comfortable, familiar. There’s a peacefulness in it that you treasure, a calm that comes with knowing you’ve found your person.
“Hey, Bucky?” you ask softly, handing him a bowl of chopped carrots.
“Yeah?” He looks over his shoulder, his blue eyes catching yours with that soft, tender gaze.
“I’m really happy,” you admit, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “I’m just really happy with this. With you. This life.”
Bucky's eyes linger on you for a few moments after you speak, his gaze filled with a deep affection. He sets the vegetables aside, turning fully to face you.
“I’m happy too.”
His voice is quiet, but there's a note of sincerity that makes your heart flutter. He takes a step closer to you, his hands finding your hips, pulling you gently to him. The smell of sweat and dirt hangs in the air, an earthy, natural scent that reminds you of the hard work he does on the farm.
“You know, sweetheart…” His thumb brushes away a smudge of soil from your cheek, the roughness of his skin a stark contrast to the softness of yours. “Sometimes I look at you,” he says quietly, his voice a soft rumble. “And I just... I can't believe we get to have this. This gift.”
His gaze drifts around the room, taking in the cozy kitchen with its worn-in furniture, the pot simmering on the stove, the plants you've dotted throughout the house.
You smile at the softness in his voice, feeling a warmth spread through you at the sincerity in his words. His gaze lingers on the life you’ve built together, and you can see how much it means to him.
“You make it so easy,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s all these little moments that make it so perfect.” You reach up, your hand cupping his rough cheek, feeling the slight stubble beneath your fingertips. “I never imagined life could feel this right… with you.”
Bucky leans in, his forehead brushing against yours, his eyes closing for a brief second as if savoring the moment. “I didn’t either.”
You can feel your heart swell with the simple truth of it all. The quiet moments, the subtle exchanges, they were everything you needed.
“Together, we’re building something perfect,” you whisper, your thumb tracing along his jaw, a quiet promise in your touch. “And I’m so grateful to be here, with you.”
His lips curve into a soft smile, his hand gently brushing through your hair as he pulls you in for a kiss, one that speaks louder than any words ever could. The kiss is slow, the kind that tastes like home. When he pulls back, his expression is so tender it makes your chest ache.
“Me too,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours again. His fingers trace idle patterns along your waist, calloused but impossibly gentle. “Every damn day.”
A comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the bubbling of the stew on the stove and the distant chirp of crickets outside. After a moment, he presses another quick kiss to your lips before turning back to the counter with a small, content sigh. “Better finish this stew before we burn it,” he teases lightly, picking up the knife again.
You watch him for a second, the way his shoulders relax when he's happy, the quiet rhythm of his movements, before joining him, your side brushing against his as you reach for the spices.
“Oh god.” You whisper, your chest bubbling and Bucky looks at you, his brows raised.
“What?”
You smile, feeling breathless. “Nothing. I just- god I love you.”
He had been through so much. Too much. Sometimes when you think about it it makes you dizzy, knowing the pain he went through. The fear. But looking at him now, it makes your heart skip a beat.
Bucky smiles, full and bright, and when he reaches for you, he murmurs against your lips. “I love you too.”
pairing: war vet!mechanic!bucky barnes x fem!reader | au
w.c: 15k+
summary: you were a bit nervous when your roommate invited you to the beach with her friends, but after meeting them you realize you had no reason to be. after meeting the recovering war veteran and mechanic of the group, your whole world shifts. he's sweet, utterly handsome, and seems to be fond of you, too. things move quickly and after an encounter on the beach, you begin to worry you imagined everything. but some things are worth fighting for, aren't they?
warnings: fluff, meet cute, love at first sight maybe, beach setting, angst, descriptions of bucky's past, eventual smut (in second installment)
a/n: if this flops, my feelings will be so hurt but life shall go on. also, I know the story moves quickly, but it’s supposed to bc it’s a summer fling and summer isn’t that long. I also envision Bucky after FATWS specifically for the basis of his au character. He’s done the work to help himself, but it still haunts him at times
masterlist | read on AO3
The grass, trees, and the occasional house passed by quickly. The summer air coming through the cracked windows filled your lungs and restored you from the inside out. There were no gasoline, garbage, sewage, or other odors fighting to take up space inside of your chest. Your shoulders lost the tension they normally carried the further away you got from the hell hole you called the city. There were no skyscrapers, advertisements, blinking lights, or honking cars vying for your attention; just the vivid green of nature, the empty backroad you were traveling on, and the clear blue sky above. Your mind felt quiet for the first time since you can remember moving to the city.
You leaned closer to the window and propped your chin on your arm as you gazed out at the rural area you were driving through. The wind wiped in your face and you suddenly understood why dogs stuck their heads out of the car; it was euphoric and free. Euphoric and free weren’t words you would use to describe how you felt in your daily life. Sure, you had moved to the city after college like most fresh graduates would dream of doing, but the job you secured wasn’t as fun as you were led to believe in the interview and you were suddenly drained of energy since joining the real world. During your first year of work, your boss slowly piled more and more work upon your shoulders. You didn’t want to look like you were slacking, so you picked up the extra work with no complaint.
That was your first mistake.
As soon as you proved you could handle the bigger workload, your boss started asking you to spend more time at the office and even called you on weekends occasionally to ask you to draft a contract or schedule a meeting, or whatever other bullshit assistants had to deal with all the time. You grumbled under your breath whenever you had to put in the extra hours but turned on the smile when your boss was around.
Your second mistake was giving too much of your time to work so that you barely had a social life. While you moved to the city knowing no one, you lucked out on finding an incredible roommate – Natasha Romanov. She quickly became a great friend and helped you navigate the city whenever it seemed to bog you down. Natasha had lived in the city since she was ten and knew almost every borough inside and out. During your first year, she made it her mission to take you out every weekend to see one of the sights or to go dancing or whatever she claimed was a “must” for a newbie. It was easy to handle your work life and small but budding social life that first year.
After that, you slowly started to become increasingly burnt out and, being the introvert you were, you started to decline invitations to go out. Natasha hadn’t said anything at first, but over the years she started to drop comments here and there about you missing out on life by giving it all to work.
That was easy for her to say. She had a job that aligned perfectly with her interests and was flexible on hours. The more you got to know Natasha, the more you were sure she was destined to be a private investigator. She was eerily good at picking up on people’s insecurities and emotions. She always watched more than she talked and she always asked the right questions just the right way. Natasha radiated confidence and everyone she encountered knew not to get on her bad side.
She seemed to have her life figured out while you still felt like you were drowning most days. The drowning sensation had lessened once you quit your assistant job six months ago and started to bartend, but you still had no clue what the next few years of your life would entail. It was exciting and nerve wracking all at the same time.
Since making the career jump to being a bartender, you got to spend more time with Natasha, as she frequented the bar when she knew you were on the schedule. To be fair, you would too if the roles were reversed. Having a decent bar just across the street from your apartment was a blessing. You were saving so much money by not using the subways or buses and the tips were nothing short of amazing.
Natasha had even brought two of her close friends by the bar – Sam and Wanda. This was a big deal since she was a private person and tended to keep her loved ones close to her chest. Sam was perhaps the most boisterous person you had ever met, and his charisma always amazed you. When he came to the bar, he would have strangers eating out of the palm of his hand within an hour. Wanda, on the other hand, was more similar to you: introverted, kind, and happy to stick with her small group of people.
Having a somewhat healthy savings account, an understanding boss, and more energy for life had landed you here: stretched out in the back seat of Sam’s truck with Wanda riding shot gun and playing DJ while you headed for a beach down the coast. One of Natasha’s more lucrative clients had offered their beach house as a bonus for successfully getting pictures of her husband cheating on her with not one, but five other women. Needless to say, she had swept the field when it came to dividing their assets and you were able to enjoy one of said assets.
Natasha was already at the house with her other two friends she invited along: Steve and Bucky. You had heard her talk about them in passing but you had yet to meet the two elusive men. From what you gathered, the two served in the military along side Sam and when they were discharged, the two moved back to their old neighborhood in Brooklyn and invited him to join. Steve had become an artist and had just recently had a gallery exhibit that explored the traumas that soldiers face coming home from the battlefield. Bucky was a mechanic at a small repair shop in Brooklyn. He preferred the quieter lifestyle after coming home from their last tour.
You were a bit anxious to meet the two men, but you were more excited that Natasha was showing you her closest friends who she considered family. If they were anything like Sam and Wanda, you were sure that you would have a great time with everyone.
Within an hour, the three of you in Sam’s truck were pulling into the driveway of the beach house and various sounds of disbelief filled the truck’s cab.
“How rich were these people?” Sam asked as he peered up at the house.
“For a three-story house at the beach? I’d say very,” Wanda added as she gazed out the windshield in awe.
“And we have this house – no, mansion for three weeks?” you added.
Said mansion was enormous in your eyes after living in a tiny apartment for the past four years. The windows on the first floor were floor to ceiling, revealing a minimalist décor preference and giant pieces of furnishing in front of a purely white, state-of-the-art kitchen. The second floor, where you assumed the bedrooms were, had picturesque arched windows and a large bay window looking over the property. The third floor seemed to be a small observation room since it was mostly windows with a giant telescope in the middle of the small room. The exterior of the house was the classic beach shake style with small pieces of wood collected to make the siding with crisp white trim and a pale blue door.
“Remind me to give Natasha a bottle of wine or something,” Sam said as he pulled up to the car port where another car and a motorcycle were parked.
“Remind me to name my first born after her,” you chuckled as you all started to gather your things that had been spread across the truck during your road trip down to the coast. Wanda laughed and Sam shook his head with a smile as they shoved their belongings in their bags and pockets before opening the truck doors and sliding out.
You put your phone in your back pocket and grabbed the water bottle you had finished before jumping out and going to the back of the truck to grab your suitcase. As Sam was opening the bed, the front door of the house opened and Natasha stepped out, followed by unfamiliar, large figures. Nat walked over to you and pulled you into a quick hug before pulling back and doing the same with Wanda.
“How was the drive? I see you made it all in one piece,” she quipped as she nudged Sam with her elbow.
“Hey, I drive very well for your information,” he defended as he pulled all three suitcases to the edge.
“More like you drive like a roadrunner,” Wanda joked. “He was going at least ten over the speed limit the entire time.”
“Sue me for wanting to get my vacation started as soon as possible. Plus, we’re all safe, that’s what really matters,” Sam said as he puffed out his chest slightly.
You laughed and shook your head.
“Well, c’mon,” Nat said as she gestured towards the house. “Steve went out and got lunch for us and I’m starving.”
Grabbing your bag, you put it down on the ground before Sam closed the bed and started towards the house with Wanda. You looked up at the house for one moment and took it in before moving to follow everyone. You pulled the handle up from your suitcase and started tugging it behind you when suddenly, the handle slid out from its spot and a wheel fell off of the bottom at the same time. Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment and a bit of frustration, but before you could move, you heard someone jogging over to you.
“Hey, no worries, I’ll bring it in,” a deep voice said behind you.
You turned around and saw the darker haired one of the two men right in front of you. He had beautiful blue eyes that you swore you could drown in. They looked over you as you stared at the man they belonged to. He had short hair that looked so soft and moved with the sea breeze. The lower half of his face was covered with a beard that looked like it had been trimmed recently. The next thing you noticed were his broad shoulders and strong arms. You noticed that one arm was flesh while the other was a very sophisticated, black and gold prosthetic.
He grabbed your suitcase and picked it up like it weighed no more than a feather. Heat spread through you upon seeing his muscles flex with his movements.
“Oh, thank you,” you said as you bent to pick up the stray wheel and broken handle. You turned back to him and slowly started walking to the house beside him, offering your name as an introduction.
A small, but crooked smile spread across his pink lips and he repeated your name, as if testing how it would feel on his lips. “I’m Bucky,” he replied. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Nat.”
“All good things, I hope,” you nervously smiled.
“All good things,” he confirmed.
You looked at him once more and bit your bottom lip to keep your nerves at bay. You were always nervous around men you found attractive and it was safe to say that Bucky was the most attractive man you had ever seen with your own eyes.
When you both reached the front door, he stood back to let you enter first before following and closing the door. He set your suitcase down by the stairs, next to Wanda’s oversized tote bag and Sam’s duffle bag. You dropped your broken suitcase parts on top of your luggage and looked around the foyer that opened to the whole first floor.
“Wow, this house looks like it should be in an architecture or design magazine,” you commented as your eyes scanned all the matching furniture and accent pieces that probably cost more than you made in a month.
"I think Nat said that the owner has had a few design firms take pictures of the interior,” Bucky said.
You turned back to meet his gaze and felt a slow heat creep up the back of your neck when you noticed he was already looking at you. If you were going to be here for three weeks with this beautiful man, you needed to pull yourself together – quickly.
“That tracks,” you laughed. “Most of the things in this house probably cost more than my paycheck.”
“I thought bartenders made good money,” Bucky said with a furrow in his brow.
“How did you know I was a bartender?”
“Oh, uh… Nat kind of talks about you a lot,” he added with a shy smile. Your eyes immediately fell to his lips and watched as his smile grew a bit bigger upon noticing you staring at his mouth.
“She does?” you questioned, glancing back up at his eyes. He nodded his head and watched as you bit your lip to try and suppress a goofy grin from taking over your face.
“She normally doesn’t have much to say about people, but you seemed to have made an impression on her,” Bucky told you.
“Well, I’m just honored just getting to meet you all,” you said. “She really loves you guys and I can see why. You’re all very nice and welcoming.”
“I don’t hang around people who aren’t worth my time,” Natasha’s familiar voice came from behind you. You spun on your heel to see the redhead behind you, leaning on the banister of the stairs with a sly smirk on her face as she looked between you and Bucky. “Now, c’mon. You still need to meet Steve.”
With that, she hooked her arm in one of yours and pulled you further into the house. As you both walked towards the kitchen, you chanced a peek behind you and saw Bucky standing where you were, looking down at his shoes and shaking his head. Your heart skipped three beats before settling back into a normal rhythm.
“You must be the famous roommate!”
You turned around and found another figure standing in front of you. The genuine smile on his face matched the warm timbre of his voice. The blonde haired, blue-green eyed, over six-foot tall man had the energy of a golden retriever, and it felt easy to return his welcoming energy.
“You must be Steve,” you replied. Before you could take another step forward, he swooped in to give you a quick but comforting hug. You returned the embrace at the last second, shocked that he was so outwardly friendly with even his affections. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“I could say the same,” he said. “Natasha talks about you enough that I feel like we already know each other.”
You glanced over at your friend who was leaning against the kitchen counter, watching you two interact with a small smile on her face. Your heart swelled, knowing you were now a part of her inner circle.
“Well, I hear nothing but great things about your art. Nat even said she thought about buying a piece or two.”
At that, Steve’s head turned to Natasha and a teasing smile took over his face. “Oh, really? I thought they were ‘just alright’.”
She rolled her eyes and pushed off the counter before putting her chin on your shoulder. “Remind me to not compliment people around you. You’re liable to spill my secrets.” She gave your side a squeeze before sauntering off to where Wanda and Sam were sitting at the kitchen table with their plates full of food.
You turned to the spread that Steve had gotten for everyone and started to pile a plate with food. As you were debating how much food to get, Steve and Bucky joined you in filling their plates.
“So, which one of you has the motorcycle?” you asked, trying to make small talk.
“That’s all Buck,” Steve said, clapping his friend on the back of his shoulder. “He actually built the engine himself.”
You looked up in awe at the man who had helped you earlier. “I’m sorry, you built the engine yourself? I might not know much about cars and bikes, but I know that must have been a challenge,” you said. A faint blush crept up his neck at your attention, and you felt a giddiness spread through your veins knowing that you could get a reaction out of him.
“It’s really not that hard,” he deflected. “The hardest part was finding all the parts I needed, but building the actual engine took about two days.”
You nodded, impressed that he was very gracious about his engineering feat.
“Well, congratulations,” you said. “It looks really good.”
He met your gaze and gave you a shy smile. “Thanks.”
Next to him, Steve was fighting off a smile and shook his head as if he was fighting to keep his thoughts to himself. He left the counter with a plate piled high and sat down next to Wanda. You noticed that the only two seats left were right next to each other, meaning you and Bucky would be sitting near each other.
The two of you walked over to the table after assembling your lunches, sat down, and joined the conversation. The table was made from nice oak wood, but it wasn’t very big; Sam and Wanda were practically smushed together and Steve and Natasha sat at the heads of the tables. During the meal, you noticed that Bucky’s knee kept knocking into yours every so often and you found yourself moving your knee closer to his every time he would pull away slightly. You felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush, and it felt like the feelings were reciprocated, but you weren’t sure if you were reading into it too much.
The next few days were full of exploring the island that you all were staying on. There were a few local museums about the native inhabitants, two art galleries filled with colorful pieces made of sea glass and oil paints, and a handful of Mom-and-Pop shops that had everything from fishing poles to surf boards to Christmas ornaments. You also went to every beach access that you could find, relishing in the soft sand, warm sun, and cool ocean spray.
You had a lot of fun getting to know everyone better. Wanda was very artistic and signed up for an art class held at one of the galleries; Steve ended up joining the class also. Natasha seemed to be immersed in the history of the island and bought a book about the local history at a small book shop. You found out that Sam had a knack for fishing after telling you about how he grew up on a fishing boat with his dad and sister. Bucky had ended up enjoying the beach nearly as much as you did, finding the sound of the waves lulling and comforting.
Getting to know Bucky had been your favorite part of the trip so far, though. You learned about his affinity with machines and science. He told you about his collection of Tolkien’s books and mentioned he’d lost count of how many times he reread The Hobbit.
He asked questions about you and seemed genuinely interested in knowing the answers, unlike most guys you dated. It was refreshing to have your interest reciprocated for once.
You also noticed that the two of you seemed to always be close to one another or touching in some way. He always sat near you during meals and your knees or feet would be touching. When you all explored the museums and shops, he held the door open for you and would guide you out with a hand on the small of your back if it was particularly crowded. At night when everyone would pile up on the furniture in the living room, he always opted to sit next to you. If you were sitting on the floor, he would sit on the couch behind you and guard your personal space like it was his job.
A few days after arriving, you all decided to spend the day at the beach. Sam was surf fishing, Steve and Wanda were sketching, Natasha was reading under an umbrella, and you and Bucky were walking along the shoreline. You were looking through all the shells you came across, and Bucky was content to hold the shells you deemed good enough to keep.
“So,” Bucky started as he watched you bend down to comb through a section of small shells, “what makes a shell good enough to keep?”
You paused in your search and looked up at Bucky, shielding your eyes from the afternoon sun. Standing in front of the ocean in his linen button up that was unbuttoned halfway and his hair moving with the wind, Bucky looked like he could be in a perfume commercial or one of the men on the cover of a steamy romance novel. His sunglasses obstructed his eyes from your view, but you could feel his gaze on your face.
“I guess it’s up to the person collecting,” you said.
“What’s your criteria then?”
“For me, I like shells that look like they’ve traveled through the ocean a long time. They aren’t perfect, but they still have a beautiful color or pattern on them,” you explained, looking back down at the shells in front of you. One that matched your description laid in front of you. You grabbed it and stood up to show Bucky. Holding your hand out, he moved closer, observing the shell in your hand. “See this one? Its edges are a little jagged, but it still has a bright color and feels smooth in my hand. It feels like it has lived a life of its own.”
Bucky reached out and slowly traced his finger down the middle of the shell before trailing his finger over your palm for a second. A shiver ran down your spine, and you had to fight the gasp that threatened to leave your lips. Bucky looked up at you and tilted his head to the side a bit.
“Jagged edges don’t bother you?” he asked. His tone of voice suggested that he wasn’t just asking about the shell’s jagged edges.
You gave him a gentle smile and shook your head. “No, they don’t bother me. Should they?”
“Some edges are sharper than others,” he explained cryptically.
You knew that he served in the military and had suffered many injuries. You had a suspicion he was talking about his jagged edges and not the shell’s. There were so many words swarming your brain, but none of them seemed adequate to quell his nerves. Nonetheless, you still had to try.
“Well, lucky for the shell, time and sand smooth the sharp edges. They never go away, but they become more manageable,” you said.
His mouth opened slightly upon hearing your explanation and you could tell that the words had landed in his chest with impact; you just didn’t know if it was something he needed to hear or something he didn’t want to acknowledge. Instead of thinking about it too much and second guessing yourself, you placed the shell in the front pocket of his button up and left your hand on his chest to cover the shell. He looked down at your hand on his pec before looking up to you.
“This one is for you,” you said, moving one finger in a soothing motion over the skin just beneath the thin material of linen. “The pattern on it reminds me of the bands of gold on your arm.”
You couldn’t tell if what you said hit a nerve or if it landed as softly as you meant it to, but you noticed him go still for a few moments before lifting his hand to cover yours that remained over the shell in his pocket. His fingers wrapped around your palm and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you,” he murmured under his breath. If the sea breeze hadn’t paused during that moment, you wouldn’t have heard his thanks and you wouldn’t have felt a tightness behind your ribs in response.
“Of course,” you said, slowly pulling your hand away from his chest so you could resume your search for shells. “Pretty people deserve pretty things.”
A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. “Oh, so now I’m pretty?”
“Um, have you ever looked in a mirror, sir?” you laughed. “Your face could make anyone, man or woman, fall headfirst before realizing. It’s quite unfair.”
“Anyone, huh?”
Realizing you might have just been too forthcoming with your attraction to Bucky, you crouched down once more to the sand and looked down so he wouldn’t notice your flustered expression.
“Uh, yeah. I mean when Sam gets buzzed, he talks about the pretty boy and the golden retriever, and after meeting Steve, I know he’s the golden retriever,” you explained, hoping he would just leave it at that.
“I don’t care about what Sam thinks,” he said, his voice getting closer to your ear. You turned your head to the side to see him crouching next to you, sunglasses now pushed up so you could see his eyes. The blue of his irises were mesmerizing and more enchanting than the literal ocean at your back. You found yourself unable to look away from him.
“Don’t tell Sam that,” you tried to joke, as a deflection. “I bet he would throw a fit.”
“He’ll get over it.”
After a couple of seconds, you pulled your gaze from his and returned to looking through the shells at your feet. Your fingers combed through the shards and fully formed shells, trying to distract yourself so you wouldn’t make the mistake of throwing yourself at him.
How was it possible for someone to look so perfect in the harsh afternoon sun? It was clear that if God was real, Bucky was his favorite creation.
You picked up a pale pink shell and turned it over in your hand, inspecting it, before handing it to Bucky. When he didn’t take the shell you were extending between you, you turned your head to look at him once more just to find that he was still looking at you. The only difference was the soft, gentle look in his eyes as he took in your features. You could feel your internal organs melting together to form one big cartoon heart that threatened to beat out of your chest.
After a second, he took the shell from your fingers before looking down at the object. He flipped it over and ran his thumb over the bumpy ridges before putting it in his other hand with the rest of the shells you wanted to keep.
“Just for the record,” he started as he looked over all the various shells in his hand. “I think you’re pretty, too.”
As if you were on the set of a romance movie, the sea breeze picked up and your hair flew back in the wind as his comment hit your ears. He slowly turned his gaze back to you and you swore that the air between you thickened with something you couldn’t put your finger on.
This beautiful man had just called you pretty.
Was this real life?
Before you could say anything in response, he stood back up and held out his hand for you to take. You slipped your hand into his grasp and let him pull you up, so you were standing right in front of him.
It would be so easy to reach out and pull your faces closer together, but his comment kept you rooted in place, still trying to process the moment.
With a wry, boyish grin taking over his face, he nodded his head in the direction of the shoreline you had yet to reach. “C’mon, let’s go see if there are any other worthy shells. I have my pretty shell, now we have to find one that’s as pretty as you are.”
As he started to walk, you expected him to drop your hand, but you were pleasantly surprised when he kept his hand wrapped around yours. The warmth from his palm seemed to transfer to your skin and soaked into your bloodstream. You felt as if you were walking on clouds and you were so sure that there was no moment in your life that could possibly top this one.
The next day, everyone seemed content to laze around the house, but you wanted to go out and explore the tidal pools you had seen the day before.
“I’m headed out to the tidal pools,” you announced to the group. Sam was asleep on one of the couches, Wanda was attempting to finish her painting from yesterday, Steve was eating something while watching a football game on the television, and Natasha was spread out on a large recliner, nose stuck in her book. Bucky had been missing the better part of the late morning and afternoon.
“Enjoy,” your roommate said without peeling her eyes from the text in front of her. Steve waved his free hand and Wanda gave you a wink.
You turned and walked over to the front door, sliding your sandals on and grabbing your bag which had your sunblock, sunglasses, and camera inside. Just as you were about to wrap your hand around the front door’s knob, the door was thrown open with a gust of wind that blew in along with the man who had been taking up real estate in your head.
His form took up most of the space in the door frame. He was panting and sweating as he stopped when he saw you. A bead of sweat slid from his temple, down the side of his face, and down his neck and you found yourself momentarily envious of the drop of perspiration. His grey shirt looked almost black with all the sweat soaking in the material. His face was a bit red, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the sun or from overexertion, or if it was from both.
“Hey,” he greeted, in a flat tone. The smile that you came to associate with him was missing from his features and his eyes seemed to lack that sparkle you had grown to admire. You offered a shy smile and a quick greeting in return.
“Um, I’m going to the tidal pools, but everyone else is in the living room,” you explained when you noticed his gaze land on your bag and your sandals. He nodded his head and looked over your shoulder to see everyone spread out, doing their own thing. You wanted to ask him where he had been for most of the afternoon, but you didn’t want to push any buttons as he was clearly not feeling like himself, from what you could tell. “You’re welcome to join, if you want. No pressure, though.”
Bucky brought his flesh hand up to scratch at the back of his neck while he contemplated the offer. You couldn’t tell which way he was leaning since he was doing such a good job of keeping to himself. You stood there in the foyer for a while, waiting for his answer. The moment felt like it lasted for five days rather than five seconds.
His hand fell into his pocket and he looked up at you with a stormy expression in his eyes. The feeling of rejection spread through your chest, which was silly, since he clearly needed space and you were offering too much social interaction. You went to open your mouth and retract the offer, but he cut you off with a nod of his head.
“I’ll come with you,” he said. “I just need to shower and change, then I’ll be ready.”
“Yeah, of course. Take your time,” you said quickly, surprised that he was accepting your invitation after all. “I’ll just be outside by the cars.”
He gave another stiff nod before slipping past you and dashing up the stairs. When he disappeared from your sight, you went to head out the front door but caught Natasha looking at you over her book with a mischievous glint in her eyes. You awkwardly cleared your throat and left the house, not wanting to feel her stare probe you for information she probably had already gathered.
You and Bucky had been orbiting each other since you met earlier in the week and everyone had seemed to make something of it, while you were trying to figure out why you felt so out of your depth around him. The only one who had said anything was Steve after he pulled you to the side one night once Bucky had gone to the bathroom following dinner.
He started by asking you how the trip was going so far and if you were having fun. When you mentioned that you were having more fun than you expected, he quickly mentioned that Bucky seemed to be having more fun than anyone thought he would. You looked up at him curiously when he said that and he quickly satiated your need for information.
“Buck had the hardest time out of all of us when we were touring. His story isn’t mine to tell you, but he came back with a lot of baggage. After seeing him this week though, it’s like seeing my friend from college all over again,” he had explained. “You know, it takes a lot from us to get him to smile and break behind his gruff exterior, but you seem like a natural at it.”
“Oh,” you said, looking down to hide the embarrassment on your cheeks.
“It’s nothing to be shy about,” he quickly remedied. “I guess I just wanted to tell you that he seems really happy around you.”
You met his gaze at that and found a heartfelt smile on his face. You returned the gesture with a shy smile of your own and he left you on the porch overlooking the water. You had stayed out there for a while that night, thinking about all that Steve had said and all the pieces of information Natasha had dropped about Bucky over the years.
“If you don’t mind,” Bucky’s gravely voice started, breaking you out of your thoughts, “I thought we could take my bike.”
You turned to look at him and the second your eyes met his, your throat seemed to go dry. His dark hair was still wet from the shower, but he was wearing a white compression shirt that looked like it was straining against his muscles. When your eyes roamed to his face, you could see some of the light had returned to his eyes. A small smile broke across your face at the sight.
“Okay,” you conceded. “I will warn you, I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before, though.”
He grinned and motioned for you to come over to his bike while he swung a leg over the body of the machine. He put his helmet on before digging around in his side bag for another. He produced the helmet and gave it to you. You fumbled to put it on, but eventually got it secured around your head.
Bucky held his hand out for you, and you took it, cautiously climbing on to the motorcycle behind him. Once you were seated, you placed your hands on your thighs, not knowing where else to put them. A rumbling chuckle emanated from his chest before he grabbed your leg and moved you closer to him.
Your chest was pressed against his back and your legs bracketed his. The feeling of his leg hair brushing against your skin made your brain short circuit and you let him manipulate your hands to wrap around his torso.
“You’re going to want to hold on, sweetheart,” he said before bringing the bike to life. The loud sound of the engine was enough to have you plaster yourself to his back and squeeze your arms around his abdomen. You felt his laughter this time but couldn’t hear it over the sound of the idling engine. He lifted his feet off the ground and the bike slowly pulled itself down the driveway. Once the coast was clear, Bucky turned on to the road and that’s when you truly felt the power of the motorcycle.
As the machine quickly picked up speed, you tried to move even closer to his body. Your thighs squeezed around his solid ones and you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out of your mouth when you let yourself relax a little and enjoy the wind surrounding your bodies.
As he drove, you looked around as nature flew by. You were starting to understand the appeal of a motorcycle, especially since it let you press your body closely to Bucky’s frame. The heat from the sun and his body lulled you into a tranquil state. You leaned your head on to his shoulder and closed your eyes, letting the warmth fill every cell in your body. You had never felt this content to be close to someone before and it was a thrilling feeling. All the love songs, poems, romance books, and cinema you watched about finding solace in another person made complete sense if they felt half as content as you did.
The motorcycle slowed down as Bucky pulled off the main road and came to a standstill in a parking spot on the side of the road. After shutting off the bike’s engine, his slipped his hand down your arm and gave your hands a squeeze while they were still clasped around his body. You dropped your hands reluctantly when you felt his body move to dismount. He took his helmet off as he turned around to face you as you also got down from the machine’s back. You offered him the helmet and he put both away before you started walking towards the shoreline and the tidal pools.
Bucky walked by your side but remained quiet on your trek. You didn’t want to intrude on his thoughts, so you remained quiet as well. The silence wasn’t awkward; instead, it was comfortable. You sneaked peeks at his side profile every few steps, noticing how his brows furrowed occasionally, and how his lips were pursed, but in a tight line. What you wouldn’t give to see inside his mind.
After the five minute walk to the tidal pools, you set your bag down on a big rock and pulled out your camera, ready to shoot some wildlife portraits. The clear waters allowed for you to see sea stars, urchins, barnacles, and tiny, colorful fish feeding in the pools. You looked over your shoulder at Bucky and saw him looking at you already. You gave him a small smile before turning back to the tidal pool and crouching down to get a closer shot.
“I didn’t know you were into photography,” Bucky observed from behind you.
You nodded your head and took another photo before turning to face him. “My parents gave it to me when I left for the city,” you explained. “I never ended up using it. It sat on my bookshelf collecting dust for years, but Nat encouraged me to take it on this trip and finally start using it.”
“Too busy galivanting around the city to use your camera?” he jested.
“I wish. More like I was drowning in work and didn’t realize I was selling my soul to the corporate world,” you said with a laugh at the end. “I would use all my energy at work, trying to prove to my boss and everyone else how good I was with completing tasks. Why? I’m not sure, but it seemed like something I was supposed to do. By the time I would get home, I would barely have enough energy to cook for myself or even shower some days,” you confessed, trying your best to gloss over the harder bits of your life in the first few years after college.
“I understand,” he said after a moment. “Sometimes life takes more from you than you thought you would give.”
You nodded your head in agreement. “Switching careers helped get my life back, I guess.
Or at least it made me realize that some things are more important than my professional life.”
“What have you found that’s more important?” he asked.
“I found out how much I enjoy hanging out with people and that I didn’t need to work all day, every day just to make a living,” you answered. “Being a bartender isn’t exactly the glamourous life, but it pays the bills and lets me have free time outside of work. And that’s where I found that life happens; in those moments you get every day. I was just wasting my life by working and coming home and crashing out from my lack of energy.”
There was a pause in the conversation as he seemed to think over your words.
“Plus, if I was still at my shitty corporate job, I wouldn’t have been able to come to the beach and finally meet you and Steve,” you added with a small smile.
“Well, then I guess I’m grateful for your career change, too,” he muttered. You weren’t sure if he meant for you to hear his words, but you were glad that you did. Your heartbeat picked up its pace momentarily and you could feel the back of your neck flush.
You turned back to the tidal pool and put your camera down, opting for touching the creatures in the water. The fish scattered as soon as your hand reached into the pool. You traced your fingertip over the sea star, feeling its ridges and appreciating its color.
The sound of your camera’s shutter opening and closing stole your attention and you looked over to see Bucky holding the camera in your direction. The surprise on your face must have been another great moment to capture in Bucky’s mind since you heard the camera take two more pictures. A goofy grin took over your face and he snapped another photo before pulling the camera down from his eye.
“Too good to not document,” he said with a shrug as he put the camera back down beside you.
“Well, now it’s your turn, mister,” you chided as you picked up the camera and pointed it in his direction.
His features changed from appreciative to mild discomfort as he started to lift his hand to block his face. Your fingers were faster, though, and you caught a candid of him that you were sure was going to turn out beautifully.
“I don’t think you need to take pictures of me,” he said, as if trying to play off his importance. “Save your film for the beach.”
“But you’re a part of this trip and I want to remember you,” you explained.
The discomfort disappeared as a shy acceptance took over and you quickly snapped more pictures, hoping you could capture the expression on his face. You wanted to remember him in this moment for the rest of your life. His gentle appreciation and surprise were sure to make your stomach flutter when you got the photos developed.
“What? Are you going to be done with me after this trip?” he goaded.
A giggle slipped out of your lips and you tilted your head to the side before you answered.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be done with you, Bucky.”
His blue eyes were almost swallowed by his pupils as they enlarged. The small smile disappeared from his lips and he looked at you with a stunned expression briefly before it morphed into a playful one.
“Good, because I’m nowhere near done with you,” he replied.
When his words graced your ears, you felt your lungs stop breathing and your pulse stop briefly. You had never had someone express their interest in you so clearly and to say it was wreaking havoc on your nervous system would be an understatement.
The two of you were walking back to his motorcycle when you passed an elderly couple going for a walk on the beach. An idea popped into your head and you rushed up to them, asking politely if they could take a couple of pictures of you two. After they agreed happily, you skipped back to Bucky who looked confused.
“Smile, pretty boy,” you joked. “I want some pictures of us.”
A chuckle rumbled from his chest as he accepted the circumstances. When you were side by side, he slipped his flesh arm around your waist and tugged you closer in to his side. A surprised squeal came from you as you regained your footing from the surprise movement. You looked over at the couple and gave them a big smile, excited that you would be able to have documentation of his arm wrapped around you.
After the couple took a few photos, they walked over to you and handed you back your camera.
“You two are just adorable,” the woman gushed. “I’ve never seen a better looking couple.”
Bucky stiffened a little beside you before dropping his hand from your waist as if he had been burned and you gave an awkward chuckle.
“We’re not…” you trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence. You weren’t a couple, but the way you felt spending time with him was what you assumed partners would feel about each other.
“Sorry, about her,” the man jumped in. “She just loves love and sees it everywhere she goes.”
“It’s no problem,” you quickly said. “Thank you for the photos! Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
They wished you the same as they resumed their stroll along the beach. You put your camera back in your bag and looked up at Bucky. He was looking at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint but tried to cover it up when you met each other’s gaze. He nodded his head towards the road and you followed along after him.
As you walked behind him, you couldn’t stop yourself from overthinking. Did the implication of you being a couple make him that uncomfortable? Was it you or just the idea of being in a relationship? Had you been reading too far into your time together and all the smiles you shared? He said he would never be done with you just a few moments ago, but did he mean it in a different way than you had?
You had to stop yourself from going down the catastrophizing route or you would ruin the rest of your day. As much as you wanted to think about all the possibilities, you didn’t want Bucky to see you spiraling since he already seemed to be on edge before you even left for the tidal pools.
When you reached the motorcycle, Bucky handed you the helmet once more and sat down before offering you his hand. Instead of taking his hand, you placed your palm on his shoulder as you swung your leg over the body of the bike. You secured your helmet and placed your arms on his side, waiting for him to start the bike. After a moment, he started the engine and slowly backed out onto the road before taking off towards the house. You wrapped your arms around him but tried not to press yourself too close.
With your feelings and emotions being all jumbled right now, the last thing you needed to do was confuse yourself further by sinking into his warmth. You felt him stiffen after a minute. Could he feel you holding back or was he just adjusting his posture?
You shook the thought off and focused on the dunes and sparse patches of grass instead, reminding yourself not to spiral. All it would do is make the situation more uncomfortable and awkward and that was the last thing you wanted.
When Bucky pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, you took a moment to gather yourself before slipping off the bike and unlatching your helmet’s strap. As you handed the helmet back to Bucky, you glanced over him briefly and mustered up a smile.
“Thanks for the ride and coming with me,” you said.
“Yeah, no problem,” he said after coughing to clear his throat. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but no words came out of Bucky’s mouth afterwards.
With that, you turned and headed for the house, needing a little space to sort out your thoughts and feelings. You could hear Bucky walking behind you, but his footsteps weren’t as close as they had been in the previous days. It’s like he knew you needed space and was granting it to you. You didn’t know if that hurt more or if you were glad for it.
The rest of the day passed by quickly with dinner and a small game of poker before everyone went to bed. Bucky had been the first to call it a night, followed by Sam, Wanda, and Steve.
You and Natasha were cleaning up the poker chips, drinks, and cards when she turned to you and examined your body posture.
“What happened?” she asked. “You weren’t as smitten when you got back from the tidal pools.”
“It’s nothing,” you deflected. “Just tired from the sun.”
She narrowed her eyes and cocked an eyebrow. You prayed she would let it go for now, because you didn’t even know how to voice what was going on in your head. As if she could sense you pulling into yourself, she let out a sigh before she continued to clean up after everyone.
Natasha retreated to her room for the night after giving you a much needed hug, leaving you all alone in the living room. You weren’t tired, but you didn’t want to make too much noise and disturb anyone’s sleep, so you grabbed a light blanket and walked out onto the deck. You sat down in one of the chairs closest to the railing and draped the blanket around you.
You sat with your knees pulled into your chest and rested your chin on top of your knees. Above you, the moon was in the process of waning and the stars twinkled around it as if they were talking to each other. The sight was beautiful and it helped to calm the storm brewing in your head.
Just as you were starting to truly relax, the back door slid open and you heard footsteps approach you from behind. You kept your head forward, refusing to tear your gaze from the cosmos in front of you until you heard the chair next to you scrape against the deck as someone took a seat next to you.
You looked over and saw a familiar pair of blue eyes looking at you with something akin to regret in their eyes. You didn’t say anything as you turned your head back to the stars. If you continued to look into Bucky’s eyes, you were sure you would crumble or burst apart.
“My real name is James,” came a quiet murmur from the man next to you. You looked at him out of the corner of your eyes and saw him fidgeting with his hands, entranced with the sight of his own fingers moving around. Your head remained on your knees, but you tilted it in his direction instead of the stars’. “Bucky comes from my middle name, Buchanan. My mom had an affinity with names from the early nineteen hundreds.”
“You kind of look like a James,” you chimed in.
He huffed out a laugh and shook his head before looking up to meet your gaze.
“My sister used to call me Jimmy,” he added, earning a small smile from you. “I remember Steve tried to call me Jimmy once.”
“What happened?”
“I chewed him out and he never said it again,” he admitted with an embarrassed grin presenting itself on his face. “I let him get away with a lot of other things, though. He was practically my brother.” He paused and turned his gaze out to the stars you were admiring earlier. You didn’t know where this conversation was going, but you were content to let him think through his words before sharing them with you. “We first met in kindergarten. He was this small kid who could have disappeared with the wind if it was strong enough. There was another kid on the playground, Connor, who used to tease him and push him around. I didn’t do anything to stop it the first week of kindergarten, but once he started to talk about his mom, I could see that Steve was ready to fight. I couldn’t let him fight when one punch would have sent him to his early grave. So, I stepped in and gave Connor a pretty good beating. I got in a lot of trouble for it and had to spend the rest of the week’s recesses in the classroom instead of on the playground. But Steve stayed back with me. The first few days, he didn’t say anything to me, then one day he came over and sat at my table and started talking about some cartoon he saw on the television and ever since then, we’ve been best friends.”
You had no problem conjuring a small Bucky and even smaller Steve in your mind. It was heartwarming to know that Bucky was a defender of those who needed help.
“We went through school together, got our driver’s license together, pulled pranks on my sister, Rebecca, and the other neighborhood kids, and talked about everything we wanted to do. We were best friends and I can’t imagine growing up a different way. Right after we finished college, we went into the army. My old man had served and Steve was hellbent on protecting others any way that he could. I wasn’t going to let him go by himself, so I joined with him. My parents were proud. My sister was mad that I wasn’t going to be able to drive her and her friends around anymore, but also proud.”
As he told his story, you watched him intently, watching his thoughts and emotions play out in real time across his face. By the way he kept fiddling his fingers and the way his brows pulled together tightly, you could tell that this was taking a lot of effort on his part.
“Steve got drafted into this government program for soldiers and disappeared for about a month before coming back a completely different person. Before, he was so thin and lean and when he came back, he seemed to grow almost a foot and gained muscles that should have taken years to build. He couldn’t tell me about what happened, but the changes spoke for themselves. The kid that used to wheeze when spring would come around was suddenly running laps with me without breaking a sweat.”
“That must have been jarring for you,” you noted.
He nodded his head. “Yeah, it took a while for me to get used to. After another month of training, we got assigned our divisions. I was a sergeant in the one-oh-seventh and Steve was going to be returning to whatever program made him what he is today. I shipped out pretty soon after that and I was thrust into the middle of war. Everything we learned in basic training was miles away from what was happening on the ground. There was one night when we were resting in the barracks when the power cut out. At first, we thought nothing of it, but then we started hearing gun fire. Turns out, we were being ambushed in our sleep. I remember stepping out with my gun held in front of me before being hit in the head with something hard. I blacked out and when I came to, I couldn’t tell where I was.”
Bucky took a deep breath and balled his hands into fists before continuing.
“I was strapped to a table, hooked up to an IV and something else that was a bright blue. I didn’t know it at the time, but whoever took me was using their own version of whatever the government gave Steve. They were building biologically enhanced soldiers. I can’t remember much of my time being held captive, but I just remember a searing pain running through my veins and people talking above me in a different language.”
His knuckles were white from how tightly he was clenching his hands and you could feel your heart break into pieces from watching the pain he was going through just to retell the story to you. You didn’t want to invade his space or push him too far, so you reached a hand out and placed it on the arm of his chair. Your index finger extended and you gently traced circles in the side of his sweatpants. The touch seemed to help him as he relaxed his hands a bit and took another deep, steady breath.
“Eventually, Steve’s division found me and saved me and a few of my other men. When we came back to the base, I was brought to a room with Steve and the head of the government program he had been a part of. They explained everything in detail and before I could process everything, I was thrust into the same division as Steve. There were only a handful of us that had survived the biological experiments. After a week of rest, I was back in the field running operations with Steve and the others. Everything was fine for the first month. Our missions always ran smoothly and we could handle the loose ends that came up every now and then,” he said in a somber tone. “But one mission came and before we knew we had been compromised, we were separated by a blast. I was knocked back so hard that I couldn’t stay fully conscious. I couldn’t hear anything through the ringing in my ears and my arm felt like it was being pulled from my body. Someone dragged my body somewhere and the same foreign language filled my ears from my first time being captured.”
“Bucky, you don’t have to—” you tried to reassure him.
“I know, but I want to,” he said, grabbing your hand that was resting on his chair’s armrest. His gaze turned down to your hands clasped together before he continued. “I remember bits and pieces of what happened, but it’s all a blur. I remember waking up and feeling a heavy weight on my left shoulder and when I looked down, my left arm looked like it belonged to a cyborg, not me. Looking around, all I could see was blood everywhere and people talking around me. I couldn’t understand what they were saying and I ended up passing out from the pain. The next time I woke up, I was in a hospital in the States with a commanding officer in front of me telling me how I was being honorably discharged for my service.”
Tears pooled in your eyes as you imagined a young and distraught soldier who had already been altered without his consent waking up to find that he had lost a limb. You squeezed his palm and brushed your thumb over the back of his hand. All you wanted to do was wrap your arms around him and keep him safe for the rest of his life, but you knew that wasn’t possible.
“My parents came and took me home. I remember my mom nearly falling down when she saw me for the first time in the hospital room. My dad had gone ghost white and sat in silence. When I got home, Rebecca was there and I remember her falling apart when we first saw each other.” Bucky took a deep breath and finally looked over at you after telling his story. You could see the devastation in his eyes and the quiver of his bottom lip. “It was a long road to recovery, and honestly, I’m still living with the ghosts of my past every time I close my eyes. I don’t think I’ll ever be normal again.”
You moved your body closer to his chair and nodded your head. “I don’t think anyone expects you to be, Bucky.”
“I just – it’s hard for me to imagine anything normal in my life,” he nearly sobbed. “Today was the anniversary of me coming home and it all piled up as soon as I woke up this morning. I ran myself ragged trying to literally run from my past this afternoon, but then you offered me an escape that wasn’t a form of punishment. Going to the tidal pool with you was a momentary breath of fresh air and I could feel myself letting all my thoughts go. But then that woman made that comment about being a couple and it just tore the wound open again.” His eyes became glassy with unshed tears. “After everything, it’s hard for me to want to open up and see myself sharing a life with someone because that means they have to hold my baggage and that’s not fair. But then, meeting you…”
He trailed off and brought your hands to his lips, gently brushing them over your knuckles. At the gentle touch of his skin to yours, the tears you were holding back escaped from your eyes. After hearing his story, your heart swelled ten times its normal size. To know he had been through hell and back, twice, and still chose to continue living his life to the best of his ability was more than admirable. It was awe inspiring.
“The day we met, I felt like a young boy again, seeing a beautiful woman for the first time. For the first time since I returned home, my first thought wasn’t to run away, but to stay and get to know you,” he explained. “It was like opening the window after a long, harsh winter and feeling the first warm breeze of spring.”
You didn’t know what to say. There were so many thoughts and affirmations you wanted to shower upon him, but you knew this wasn’t the moment to overwhelm him. This was a moment to comfort him and just be here.
“Thank you for telling me, Bucky,” you whispered, hesitant to break the silence that followed his past. “I’m so sorry that you had to experience what you did, but I think you are still worthy of everything you wanted before life dealt its hand to you.”
He looked at you and held on to your hand as if it was anchoring him to the earth. In a rare moment of vulnerability, you felt him pull your arm closer to his body and you followed, getting out of your chair and standing in front of him as he pulled you closer, between his knees.
“It’s hard for me to believe I’m worthy of normalcy, but I think I want to try when it’s you saying it,” he said, gazing up at you with his turbulent blue eyes. “I’ve never felt this way with someone before and I know it’s selfish, but I want it.”
Your hand that wasn’t encased in Bucky’s reached up and threaded itself through the soft locks of his hair. “It’s not selfish,” you stated, leaving little room for disagreement. “It’s human.”
The tears that made his eyes glassy finally spilled over his lids, streaming down his face as he pulled you closer to bury his face in your stomach. His hand let go of yours in favor of winding around your waist to bring himself that much closer to you. Your now free hand joined the other one and you gently swept your fingers through his hair, comforting him during his moment of emotional turmoil. You could feel his tears soak through your shirt and his hold tighten around you, but you remained still, giving him just a fraction of the comfort he deserved.
After a few moments, he pulled away and looked down at his feet. You could feel the awkwardness trying to worm its way between you two, and you would be damned if you let it. You gently cupped his chin and tilted his head up to meet your gaze. “I want this, too,” you admitted, earning a small but genuine smile from him. “And just so we’re clear, I’m not stuck carrying your baggage. I want to help you carry it.”
You could see the moment the words landed with Bucky. The weight of his shoulders lessened, the sorrow left his eyes, and his eyes sparkled with warmth instead of tears. His metal hand slid up your waist, slipping under your shirt to land on the warm skin of your lower back. The sensation of the cool metal sent shivers down your spine. Your fingernails scratched his scalp and you watched as his eyes fluttered shut in contentment.
Everything that happened today made perfect sense after hearing him out and you wanted to kick yourself for selfishly thinking that you were the root of his unusual demeanor. People were nuanced and knowing what he’d been through had ripped your heart open, but hearing him admit that he still wanted whatever was happening between you – even if it scared him – had mended your broken heart and fortified your admiration for the man in front of you.
His piercing blue eyes opened after a moment and you could practically feel the heat emanating from them. Bucky guided you to sit in his lap, sealing the remaining distance between your bodies. You were nose to nose and seeing him this close had your stomach churning in anticipation. Your eyes traced his features from the crow’s feet by his eyes, the slope of his nose, to the dark pink of his plush lips. His lips were less than an inch away and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from them.
They looked so soft and inviting and you knew that if you had a taste, you would be addicted for life. It was taking all of your willpower to stop yourself from leaning in and sealing your lips over his mouth. You knew you shouldn’t especially after the day he had gone through. Revisiting the past was never fun, but in Bucky’s case, it was probably one of the seven layers of hell. You didn’t want to overwhelm him or take advantage, so you settled for brushing the tips of your noses together.
You could feel his body relax further underneath yours and it brought you a sense of comfort that you could relieve him of whatever plagued his mind, even if for a moment. One hand rose to bury itself in his hair once again while the other came up to rest on his jaw. His beard was surprisingly softer than you thought facial hair could be. You lightly scratched your nail through the hair and you swore you could hear him purring.
A soft, but crisp breeze blew across your forms and you couldn’t help but shiver. The light blanket you had draped over your shoulders had fell the moment you moved closer to him and while the heat from his body was entrancing, you knew that you should move inside.
As if sensing that you were about to move, Bucky’s metal arm wound tightly around your waist and his flesh hand gripped your thigh tightly. “Don’t go,” he said in the softest whisper.
“I’m not going anywhere except for inside,” you said with a smile. “It’s a bit too cold out here for my liking.”
“Mm,” he hummed while clutching you even tighter.
“C’mon,” you gently urged. “Let’s just move this moment into a warmer place, like the living room.”
After a little more coaxing, Bucky relinquished his hold on you while the two of you moved indoors. When your bodies reclined on the couch, you gravitated towards each other and found your limbs intertwined once again with Bucky’s head resting on your sternum and your fingers working their way through his hair. It didn’t take long for him to drift off and you were content to remain his pillow for the rest of the night.
As you slowly woke from the grips of your slumber, you felt a heavy weight on your chest and a warmth against your left side. Before you could process the sensations you felt, you heard the click of a camera shutter and the whispering of multiple voices around you. You opened your eyes slowly to see Natasha, Steve, Sam, and Wanda standing above you, all with different expressions on their faces ranging from shock to pride to feigning disgust; the latter obviously being Sam.
You looked down at your chest to see Bucky slowly waking up from the noise and you wanted to chide the adults in front of you as if you were a mother hen protecting her own. As he woke from sleep, Bucky sat up slowly and rubbed his shoulder before opening his eyes. He froze in his movements and stared at your friends who were still standing above you both. When he noticed the camera in Natasha’s hands, he turned to look at you and you could see the recollection of last night catch up to him as he saw you still laid out next to him.
A flush quickly spread across his cheeks and the back of his neck as he realized you were caught cuddled up on the couch together. You stifled a laugh and sat up as well.
“Sleep well?” Natasha coyly asked as she looked between you two.
You grabbed a pillow from beside you and threw it at her playfully, getting everyone to give you both some space. Once they dispersed, you turned to Bucky only to see him already looking at you.
“I guess we should get ready for the day,” he said in a gravelly voice due to not using it for hours.
You nodded your head and let him pull you from the couch and up the stairs towards your bedrooms and bathrooms. The two of you separated to get showered and dressed. Once you finish putting your bathing suit on and pulling your coverup on, you descend the stairs and head to the kitchen to get some food. There, you find Bucky sipping coffee from a mug, scrambling eggs on a pan over the stove. As you walk over to stand beside him and make your own coffee, Natasha and Wanda slide up beside you.
“We’ve decided that we are all spending the day at the beach again,” Wanda said with a kind smile on her face.
“Yep, and you’re going to hang with us and not Barnes today,” Natasha added.
Next to you, Bucky’s shoulders slouched hearing the girls demand your presence. You had to admit you were also sad that you wouldn’t be able to spend the whole day with him. After last night, the connection you felt to Bucky had strengthened and you wanted to explore all the other ways you guys could deepen the budding feeling between you. But you also wanted to spend time with your ladies.
“Yeah, and Barnes, you’re going to spend the day with us,” Sam mocked as he walked over to put his breakfast dishes in the dishwasher. Bucky flipped him off without turning around from the stove and you suppressed a giggle. “Damn, I thought you loved me,” Sam continued to tease. “I’m wounded.”
“Fine,” you said to Natasha and Wanda. “But I just want to lay on the beach today.”
“Deal!” Wanda squealed. “I’ve been needing to work on my tan.”
With that, the two women left to get dressed for the day and you and Bucky sat down at the table to eat your breakfast. Sam and Steve had left the room quickly after Bucky shot them a glare that was meant to wither. The two of you ate in a comfortable silence.
“So, what are you going to do today?” you asked Bucky after drinking the last bit of your coffee.
“I’m not sure,” he said, pushing his plate and cup away before turning to face you. His eyes were twinkling with a hint of mischief. “Maybe I’ll work on my tan.”
You laughed, throwing your head back as you imagined you, Wanda, and Natasha laying on the beach, under the hot sun, with Bucky next to you, doing the same.
“Mm, you are looking rather pale,” you played along. “Plus, we’d still be able to spend the day together.”
“That’s the idea, sweetheart,” he said with a wink before collecting your dishes and cleaning them up. You were practically beaming as you watched him clean up around the kitchen, admiring him as his large frame carried him around the kitchen gracefully. You watched the way the muscles in his arms contracted as he scrubbed the pan and put it on the drying rack. And with his back to you, you were free to ogle the rippling muscles on his back. It was a lovely sight to behold.
A simmering heat appeared in your stomach and you could feel it spreading further south, making you clench your thighs together. You tried to regain your composure. This man had just told you about his horrific past and here you were less than twelve hours later, lusting over him while he did something so domestic and normal.
Bucky turned towards you when he was done and leaned against the counter. You slid out of your seat and slowly walked over towards him. When you were within arm’s reach, he wrapped his metal arm around your waist and pulled you against his body. You put your hands on his chest, steadying yourself from the sudden movement.
“Good morning,” he muttered as he brought his nose to the crown of your head. Your body melted into his and returned his sentiment.
“Good morning, pretty boy.”
He grunted and pulled back to look down at you once more.
“Sorry we were woken up by those idiots,” he apologized while rubbing small circles into your hip as his cool hand slipped lower. His flesh hand brushed a few strands of hair out of your face and lingered on your cheek.
“It’s okay,” you said. “I’m just hoping I don’t look like a mess in the picture they took.”
“I’ve never seen you look like a mess,” he reassured.
“That’s what you’re supposed to say,” you brushed off.
“Whether I’m supposed to say it or not, the statement still stands,” he said as he brushed his lips against your forehead. At the sensation of the soft sign of affection, you gripped his shirt and tipped your head up to look into his cerulean eyes.
“Thank you,” you said, not knowing if you meant it about the compliment or if it was for sharing a part of his soul last night. Regardless of whatever the reason was, you didn’t know what other words could sum up the circus that was going on in your heart.
The look on his face changed to one that was similar to awe and you wished he could look at you like that all of the time. You leaned forward on your toes as he began to lean down and you both paused when you were close enough to brush your lips against one another’s. You looked into his eyes and swore you could swim in them and never tire of it. How could someone have eyes this marvelous?
Just when you were about to close the distance and finally fuse your lips together, you heard Natasha call your name in a teasing tone. You both deflated a bit upon having the moment disappear. Your limbs slowly detangled from each other and you took a step apart before exchanging shy smiles and turning to see everyone standing at the door, looking like they had been waiting on you for minutes.
You walked over, trying to ignore the flush of embarrassment on your cheeks, and Bucky followed. Once everything was gathered, you all piled into Sam’s pickup truck. The boys sat in the cab of the truck while you, Nat, and Wanda sat in the bed of the truck. The weather was perfect and the wind was soothing as you closed your eyes and leaned your head back, enjoying the wind blowing through your hair. Natasha was grumbling about the wind messing up her hair and you could hear Wanda laughing at her. When you opened one of your eyes, you saw a miffed looking Natasha, Wanda was moving her hands through the air in childlike joy, and a pair of brilliant eyes staring at you through the back windows of the truck.
Bucky didn’t avert his gaze when you opened your other eye and peered at him in curiosity. Instead, he just smirked and continued to look at you. While you enjoyed his attention, you didn’t know what to do with it in this moment, so you settled on an instinct you’ve had since you were four.
You stuck your tongue out at him and watched as he broke into a fit of laughter. Smiling, you looked down and shook your head. It was amazing to you how Bucky brought out this side of you that you had thought was lost to time. You weren’t scared to be yourself around him and to be goofy or affectionate. Other relationships in the past had felt like learning experiences compared to this. This felt freeing and exhilarating and you couldn’t wait to see where this summer trip would lead you two.
About five minutes later, Sam pulled up to the beach access and everyone piled out of the vehicle, gathering their towels, sunblock, and whatever else they brought. You pulled your sunscreen out of your bag and started to lather the protective balm over your skin. You were able to get it everywhere except for your back. When you turned to ask Wanda or Nat if they could help you, you saw that they were already helping each other.
“I can help,” Bucky’s voice said from behind you.
You turned around and saw him standing in front of you without his shirt, already slick with sunscreen. He extended his hand and you put your lotion bottle in his hand and turned around, gathering your hair into your hands so it doesn’t get in the way of the sunblock.
You thought you had mentally prepared yourself for having his hands on your skin, but when his hand made contact with your shoulders, you could feel yourself turning boneless under his strong touch. His touch spanned from your shoulders and the back of your neck, down your arms, and over the expanse of your back. His calloused hands felt like magic as they rubbed the sunscreen into your skin. His touch left a trail of tingles in their wake and you had to fight a whimper that tried to escape from your throat as he pulled his hand away.
Spinning around, you took the bottle and put it back in your bag before gazing up at the man in front of you. “Thank you,” you said.
“It was my pleasure,” he said while his eyes trailed over your skin before meeting your eyes.
“Alright lovebirds,” Sam yelled to get your attention. The two of you looked over and saw everyone holding their belongings, ready to head to the beach. “If you’re done, the rest of us would like to hit the beach.”
“Nothing’s stopping you,” Bucky shouted back, waving his friend off playfully before taking your hand in his. The two of you followed the group and walked over the dunes to the beach. After a short walk down the shoreline, you all found the perfect space. It wasn’t too close to other beach goers and it gave the boys enough room to throw the various balls that Sam and Steve had brought with them. You dropped Bucky’s hand as you were pulled over to the tanning area where Natasha already had her towel set up. You set up your towel next to Wanda’s and sat down as Natsha laid down, propping her hands over her eyes for protection. You looked over at the men as they threw a football back and forth. Bucky was facing you and sent you a playful wink when you shot him a smile.
“So,” Wanda started, “that happened quickly.”
“Yeah,” you agreed. “I wasn’t expecting it, but there’s something about him that makes me feel…”
“Seen? Smitten? Lovey-dovey?” Natasha filled in as you trailed off in thought.
You rolled your eyes and laid down on the towel, covering your eyes as Natasha had done. The warm rays of sunshine and the soft sand and towel under you had you slipping into a very agreeable mood that you normally wouldn’t have in a situation like this.
“Honestly, yes,” you answered. “I haven’t felt like this since I was eleven and had a crush on Zac Efron.”
Wanda broke into a fit of giggles and Natasha remained silent, but you had no doubt she had a victorious smirk on her face.
“You laugh, but the second I laid eyes on him in High School Musical, I was done for,” you replied with a small laugh of your own.
“Well, I think it’s cute,” Wanda said. “And I’ve never seen Bucky open up like this to anyone, let alone this quickly.”
You hummed, not knowing what to add as your thoughts turned to the soldier who had occupied your thoughts over the last week.
You remember Natasha telling you about Bucky before you met him; about how he was gruff, grumpy, and dealing with an intense load of PTSD from the service. Apparently, he was still able to go through the motions of life, but Nat said it often felt like he was waiting to make his departure when they would hang out.
Reconciling that version of Bucky with the warm, thoughtful, and deeply feeling man you had come to know wasn’t as hard as you thought it might be. After he opened himself up last night, you knew that if you continued chasing whatever feeling was blooming between you there would come a moment when you would have to deal with his “baggage” as he put it.
There wasn’t a moment of hesitation when you jumped in last night and there was no feeling of dread hanging over you now. You knew that your relationship wouldn’t remain in this rose-tinted affection stage, but after seeing just a few parts of him, you knew you weren’t going to leave him unless he wanted you to. You wanted to stick around for the hard nights and days, you wanted to be there when he was feeling grumpy, and you wanted to be there for whatever came next.
You lifted one of your arms off of your eyes and looked around, seeing the boys continue to toss the football at one another, trying to make the others fall or fumble in the process of diving for the ball. Bucky had a relaxed air about him and Steve and Sam were all smiles. The sight made you feel warm and content on the inside.
“He told me about what happened to him while he was serving,” you said after a moment. A gasp was heard next to you and you turned your head to see Wanda looking at you with surprise and Natasha lifting an eyebrow. “I can’t begin to understand what he went through, but I know that it’s not something that will make me turn away from this. He’s been so strong by himself for so long and last night I could see just how tired he was.”
Wanda’s eyes began to water and Natasha’s lips slowly curved into a smile.
“It almost felt like he was trying to scare me off, but he seemed like he needed me to understand more than anything,” you continued. “I told him I wasn’t going anywhere and that I wanted to help carry the weight of his past. I think that really put things in perspective for him and after that, we committed to seeing where this thing goes.”
“That’s so beautiful,” Wanda said, her Sokovian accent seeping into her words as she was overcome with emotion for her friend. “It’s like something out of a romance novel.”
It did sound like something out of a romance, but it was really happening to you. Life was funny like that sometimes. Less than six months ago, you were stuck at a dead-end job, withering away, and wishing for a change. Now, you had a savings account that was growing slowly but surely, you were on vacation with your friends, and you had met someone who fit so naturally into your life.
“I think it’s better than a romance novel,” Natasha chimed in before turning over to tan her back. Wanda smiled in agreement before doing the same.
You stayed on your back, feeling the sun beat down on your face and body while you tried to remain in the present. You didn’t need to think about the future with Bucky because that would just put you in your head and you wanted to be here, in the present, where you could enjoy every moment for what it truly was.
After a few minutes, you flipped over and reached behind you to untie your top so your back could tan evenly. You floated off into a light slumber as the sun warmed you. There were no thoughts on your mind other than the sound of the ocean waves and the sound of other beach goers a little further down the beach from you.
You had lost track of how long you were on your tummy when you were woken by cold water dripping on your back. Your head shot up and you looked around, trying to figure out what was going on. As you went to turn on your back, a pair of hands, one cold and one warm, halted your movements.
“You’re going to flash the whole beach if you move, sweetheart,” a familiar voice cooed as you felt deft fingers grab the strings of your top and tie them together. “And I’d prefer if you kept the sight just for me.”
You turned over and saw Bucky hovering above you. His hair was dripping sea water on you and running down his neck and torso, making him look irresistible. His smile revealed his white teeth and you briefly wondered what it would feel like to have them sink into your flesh.
“Are you assuming you are going to see me topless sometime soon?” you playfully questioned.
“If I play my cards right, I’m betting on it,” he answered as he looked down at you. His eyes strayed from yours and wandered down to your chest before coming back up to stop at your lips.
“Why are you wet?” you asked, knowing it had something to do with the ocean in front of you.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
The smirk that took over his features was devastating for your heart. You pushed at his shoulder and he moved back, sitting up at the end of your towel. You followed suit and sat up, looking at him as you waited for an answer.
“Sam threw the football into the water and Steve pushed me in to go get it,” he said.
You laughed before thinking of his arm. “Wait, can your prosthetic get wet?”
He gave you a shy smile before nodding his head. “Yeah, it’s waterproof which is really nice.” His eyebrows wiggled on his forehead and you rolled your eyes at the implication. “You going to join me in the water?”
You shook your head. “I don’t think so. That’s the fish and shark’s home, I don’t need to invite myself in.”
Bucky threw his head back in laughter and you could see the look of boyish joy temporarily take over his features before he controlled himself and looked back down at you.
“That is the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard someone say about the ocean,” he commented. “But don’t worry, I’ll be there to defend you even if it’s in their house.”
“Think about it! I hate seeing bugs in my apartment. Their house is outside, where they belong, so the same goes for ocean life. I don’t need to go inside their house to appreciate it,” you said.
Bucky shook his head and stood up, pulling you up with him. Once you were both standing, he started to walk backwards towards the ocean, tugging your hand so you would follow him. “But the water is so nice, I want you to come in with me.”
“You just want an excuse to feel me cling to you in the water,” you said as you stared at him with a knowing look.
“Guilty,” he said before bending down and throwing you over his shoulder. You screamed and pounded your fists on his back, laughing even though you wanted to be put down. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. The fish told me you were invited.”
The moment the water hit your feet and legs, you shivered, getting used to the colder temperature. Bucky continued to wade out into the ocean with you over his shoulder, only pulling you down his body once the water was up to his waist. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist and your hands clung to his shoulder. His hands wound around your body, one under your bottom and the other around your back as he continued to walk further into the waves.
He came to a stop once the water was almost over your shoulders. You could feel his hands squeezing your body in reassurance which caused you to relax a bit in his hold. You looked over his shoulder to see the rest of your friends also in the water, but a little further down the shoreline. They were playing chicken and from the looks of it, Sam and Wanda were winning.
“You know,” Bucky started, drawing your attention back to him. “We were rudely interrupted this morning.”
You tried to keep your face neutral, fighting the smile that wanted to spread across your face. “Oh, really? I can’t seem to remember what it was we were doing…” you trailed off, pretending you were forgetful of the almost kiss between you two.
With a pinch to your bottom, you squealed and pushed your body closer to his body and further from his hands.
“I’d be more than happy to remind you,” he teased as he leaned into your space. Your noses brushed as you rested your foreheads against each other. After a moment, he angled his head so he could better reach your lips with his. At the slight brush of his lips to yours, you tensed in anticipation. Bucky searched your eyes with his for any signs you didn’t want him to be in your space, but he found none.
Finally, after dreaming of this moment since you met him, your lips met in a tender kiss and your body surrendered to the affection. His lips were slightly chapped, but the kiss was no less sensational because of it. He pulled away, but the distance was short lived as you surged forward to capture his lips once again.
This kiss was less tender, but still just as sweet. Your lips molded to the shape of his bottom lip and he groaned as he felt the scrape of your teeth against the soft flesh. You used the opportunity to sneak the wet muscle of your tongue into his mouth, much to his surprise. Just as the kiss began to intensify, so did the grip that you had on each other. Your legs clenched around him, pulling his hips to yours as his arm around your back pulled you flush to his chest and his fingers spanned the expanse of your skin.
Shortly after your tongue made its way into his mouth, his barged into your mouth and stroked itself against yours, eliciting a moan from the back of your throat. Your hands slid from the tops of his shoulders into the hair at the nape of his neck, manipulating the angle of his head so you could deepen the kiss. Bucky’s hips bucked into yours roughly at the feeling of your fingers and your control.
You pulled apart with a gasp, glancing between his features as his eyes remained closed in bliss. The smile on your face couldn’t be wiped away as you remained in his arms and brushed the tips of your noses together.
“Woah,” he said after a minute, opening his eyes to look at you.
You giggled and nodded your head in agreement. “That was...”
“Amazing,” he filled in.
You leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss before pulling back just to see your friends frozen in the water, staring at the two of you with mixed expressions of entertainment and disgust.
“Don’t look now, but we have an audience,” you said.
Bucky groaned in embarrassment and hid his face in the crook of your neck. You laughed and buried your head in his neck, too, enjoying the closeness of your embrace. The two of you remained like that, wrapped around each other and sharing kisses every now and then, for a while before you convinced Bucky to take you back to the sand.
As the two of you stepped out of the waves and headed for the towels still stretched out on the sand, you saw the rest of your group throwing a frisbee back and forth, enjoying themselves.
When you reached the towel, you stopped in your tracks, causing Bucky to bump into your back and halt his movements.
“What is it?” he asked, concerned when you had stopped and remained silent.
You pointed down to the sand where a giant heart was drawn with your initials and Bucky’s inside with “4ever” written under them. You knew this had to be the work of Natasha or Sam, but you couldn’t help but feel your heart soar at the elementary display of feelings.
“How childish,” Bucky muttered. When you looked back at him, he had a smile on his face, betraying how he truly felt about the sand art. You gave him a smile and a peck to his cheek before you laid down on your towel once more, letting the sun dry the water from your body. Bucky flopped down on Wanda’s towel next to yours and propped himself up on his elbows to look at you.
You extended your hand and trailed your fingertips over his bicep, watching as goosebumps rose in the wake of your touch. You were content to sit in the silence with him as you soaked up the sun once again.
For the first time in a long time, you felt truly happy.
You never wanted this feeling to end.
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