Depressed omega!reader whose scent makes it incredibly obvious.
Obviously omegas being emotionally regulated and safe was very important for pack health, and their scents ensured everyone knew if they were in distress.
But you tried, really tired, to reel it back in. Of course you didn’t wanna be walking around practically sending out a distress beacon, but short of getting on scent blockers there wasn’t much to do. And you tried that too, but apparently one of the side effects of the blockers was depression…which just wouldn’t help the situation would it? Well, at least then you wouldn’t be bothering the whole team, you supposed.
When you got like this…and your scent went out, unpleasantly curdled from your normal one, everyone else went haywire. It was only their biology, distressed omega means unhealthy pack. It sent them into overdrive, itching to help and find a solution. Part of you felt incredibly guilty that your hurt was causing them discomfort too…but the rest of you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Which sounds callous, but caring about anything got hard, and thinking down that road just made your scent worse and made the boys go more stir crazy, which made you feel guiltier…so you just stopped thinking about it.
Sometimes it’ll come out of nowhere. You’ll be sitting in the rec room, having an enough pleasant time, everyone doing their own thing. And suddenly you’ll start thinking too much, too deeply about certain things, and won’t even notice how far your thoughts go until Johnny gives a loud whine. Only then do you notice how much your scent has changed and how everyone has stopped what they’re doing to look at you in concern.
You always mumble a “sorry…” when you realize. But they don’t let you apologize.
It’s…nice in a way. You’ve always been bad about asking for help, and for too much of your life your sadness (and subsequent scent changes) went uncared for. So to have them care so much about it…made you feel good. Feel loved.
Sometimes they’d take your mind off it. Moving from individual activities to a board game, or a movie night. Or sometimes they’d ask if you wanted to talk. And most of the time the answer was no, but sometimes you’d cry into their arms and it would make them cry too, but you’d feel better.
And you love them for it.
But sometimes even that’s too much.
And so you’ll lock yourself in your room and lose yourself in your nest, lose yourself in the thoughts, and just let yourself feel.
You could still sense them, taking shifts outside your door. You don’t know if it’s intentionally set up so you’re never alone, or if they just have the urge to get as close as they can when your distressed scent is wafting through the cracks in your door and they can’t reach you.
You lie there for hours, maybe days, and it feels like it’ll never get better. Like there’s weights attached to your limbs, glueing you to the sheets. But then eventually you wake up and feel like you can manage a shower, and suddenly you’re putting on new clothes and drinking water and opening the door. And the boys have the decency to behave relatively normally, just relieved that you’re feeling okay again. You prefer it to them treating you like glass.
But still, they’ll make you breakfast and refuse to let you help, and they’ll make you sit in the middle of the couch to be surrounded by them with a million blankets and your favorite show on. And John will kiss the crown of your head when he hands you your coffee, and Kyle will warm your cold hands and kiss your knuckles, and Simon will put his head on your lap so you feel attached to the world, and Johnny will say something that will make you laugh for the first time in days. And you’ll start to remember a little why you got out of bed.
Maybe in the future, you’ll leave the door unlocked. Let them be there while you feel like you can’t breathe. But for now, they can handle the feelings of uselessness if space is what you need. They’d do whatever it took to make you feel okay again.
Price inviting Ghost to fuck the missus. Ties you up, blindfolds you, pretty lace lingerie. A perfect gift for his pent up Lieutenant.
But when Simon slides his thick cock inside you, John's name spills from your lips. Surely you know that it's not your husband. Ghost has seen the Captain's dick more than he would like to admit. He knows he's bigger. He must be stretching you much more than you were used to. So why did you keep mewling John's name.
"God... John... right there baby!"
It spurred Simon to go faster. Harder. Make you cry his name. Beg for him to pleasure you. But you just kept babbling about your husband. Like it wasn't Simon's cock making you arch your back in ecstasy.
John meanwhile was enjoying this immensely. Sitting next to you on the bed palming himself through his pants. He could see how annoyed Simon was getting. Frustrated. The way his brow was furrowed as he bullied into your poor cunt.
The closer you got to your peak the harder it was to keep up the bit. Simon felt so good. You were writhing against your restraints with each harsh thrust.
And when you finally broke, orgasm crashing over you like a wave.
"Fuck! Oh... fuck, Simon!" you squealed. Clenching down on him as John gently stroked your hair.
At the sound of his name, Ghost's mind went blank. He had been so caught up in trying to make you moan for him. That when it finally happened he came instantly. Hips stuttering as his thrusts turned sloppy. A pitched whine leaving his own mouth, surprising both you and the Captain.
while they serve their country, you serve them! *salute*
task force 141 are good at what they do. their ranks and medals are impressive, but it's hard coming home. home for them for a long time was a mediocre flat in central london that was vacant most of the year. it didn't help with the loneliness and disconnect the men felt after time abroad.
that's where you came in. an impressive resume and a bit of confidence that if you could handle toddlers, then you could handle four grown men!
when they were home, you helped clean and made meals. when they were away, you got free reign of the entire house. it didn't help that the paycheck every month was impressive.
the one thing they didn't tell you about the job was the lingering gazes of the men who you lived with. they never did anything, they wouldn't do anything without your consent. but when you were in the garden pulling out weeds (when was the last time the lawn was taken care of) you saw price by the doorway with a cup of tea in hand, watching you grumble to yourself. then when you were cooking lunch for yourself, you felt the hot gaze of johnny against your backside as you reached to the top shelf to grab some salt (who put this so high?). then it was simon's eyes on your lips as you enjoyed some ice cream after a long day dusting (how were these guys not sneezing from all the dust!). finally it was gaz who made a comment about how you looked nice when you were scrubbing the floors. he laughed it off as a joke, but the way he looked at you was a little more heated.
four pairs of eyes lingered on every part of your body, even the parts that you were insecure about. to end up in bed with them wasn't hard. it first started with the captain, then you made your way through the ranks.
price was burly and strong, he had you pinned under him on his large bed. his hands on your hips as he buried his cock into you. your ass in the air but your upper half was flat against the mattress, price soon interwove his fingers with yours as he thrusted into your sweet cunt. you realized soon after that he really liked when you called him captain. or better yet, daddy. you didn't know that you reeked of daddy issues, but price could smell it from a mile away. but don't worry, daddy's got ya. when he was finished fucking you, he'd play with your overstimulated clit while he smoked. he made sure to exhale away from you. he was the first however to punish you when you were being a 'bad' girl. sometimes it was shining his boots, other times you were the one getting his boots dirty. (hope you like rough laces against your soaked clit!)
johnny was a wild card. he liked to bite. and it wasn't like his teeth were too blunt to cause any damage. after the first time you were with him, you made him go to the drug store to buy you concealer to cover the jackson pollock-esque hickeys on your neck! he offered to buy you a collar to wear inside and you narrowed your eyes at him. "if anyone here needs a collar it's you, mactavish." but he could also be so sweet. while he liked it fast and rough, he always made sure his number one girl got to finish as well. usually before him. his kisses were sloppy, he was like a dog sometimes. his favourite place to fuck you however was in the yard outside. he usually have to shove his thick fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. no one needed to know just how NEEDY you were for his cock. the number of times the other men caught him just pounding your sweet cock, using that strength of his to his advantage was something else. and of course, when they caught you, they hung around. three other men watching you face down in the grass with johnny having you by the hips. his praise his filthy, almost degrading. you were his special girl, but you were also a massive whore. but don't worry, bonnie, johnny will happily fuck any hole you have open.
simon was difficult. he only found out that your legs were open for business after he heard you and johnny going at it. the sound of the bed creaking and the scottsman's filthy tongue. but unlike johnny, simon was a little too big for you. while your sexual encounters started with oral and fingering. he managed to get just the tip in. but it wasn't enough, he eventually sank every last inch. the feeling took the wind out of you and you couldn't sit right for days after. his pace was slow, methodical. he watched you with a keen eye. the rise and fall of your chest, the noises you made. he knew he was selfish for taking so much of you, but you were unlike anyone else. after that, he started to take his mask off more. if you saw (and felt) his cock, you might as well see what was under the mask. cue a lot of worship from you, kissing at his heavily scarred body. he'd just hold you in his arms while you were in his lap.
kyle was the sweetest which compared to the other hulking men you were living with. it wasn't a hard bar to clear. all of them complimented you, but kyle was the one who'd bring you flowers when he returned from a mission. he mostly liked to keep his intimate time with you in his bedroom. his favourite position was to take you on your side. him spooning you as he thrusted his cock into your tight pussy. his nose in your hair as he moved against you. he knew the other men were taking your pussy for a joy ride, so he wanted to make love to you. flowers, candles, sweet nothings. the only problem was, instead him wanting to jump your bones. you wanted to jump HIS bones. you got loads of body worship from him, lots of praise to. he also liked when you called him by his rank, while not AS impressive as captain or lieutenant, it was still something he was proud of. he'd take you missionary style but a lot of the time, loved having you on top. with the afternoon light bathing your body in golden rays. he rarely left marks or bruises. no one needed to see what you two did in your off time. it was a secret for him and him alone. regardless of how you two fucked, he was the king of after care, letting you rest as he would read to you. either the book he had picked up while away or an article on his phone. he chuckled when he heard you snoring.
but sometimes, it was hard to choose between two of them at a time. so you ended up with both johnny and simon's cock pushed inside of you. your mouth hung open and your mind drawing a blank. but don't worry, they're worshiping your cunt. cooing about how sweet it is that you can take BOTH of them. of course you could! you were made for them. your stomach feels dense after they cum inside you about three times. the feeling of their cum in your gut makes your lethargic and just curl up after they get their fill.
other times its kyle and price. while they aren't pushing your pussy to its absolute limit. it still takes a lot out of you. you were on the floor of price's bedroom, riding the captain while facing kyle who had his cock in your face. as you moved your hips against the older man, your mouth and hand were on the sergeant's cock. you found out that both men liked it when you were covered in their cum, not push it inside of you as deep as they could.
when those who hired you asked how the job was going after a few months. you meekly asked what the health insurance policy was and did it cover birth control *hides face*
(you'd find out within a year that no amount of pills, iuds, rings or implants could stop one of those boys from giving you a baby)
is smutober still open? if yes can i ask for stucky x f!reader + 17. "seeing the love marks they left on their partner later and getting turned on all over again remember how it got there in the first place"? i thought maybe steve or bucky seeing the marks the other left on reader? or even better, steve or buck seeing the marks reader left on them. anyway, up to you, i love all of your stucky works, you make their relationship feel so real and i love how you don't focus solely on the boys with reader but on bucky and steve and their love for each other as well.
Wanton Affairs
Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes | Stucky x F!Reader
Warnings: Overloaded Fluff Galore | Domestic Supersoldiers | Poly relation | Language | THE SMUT galore | Threesome | Fingering | Littleshit supersoldiers on the loose | Irresistible Bucky | One torn bra | Supersoldier Sandwich | Soft!dom Steve | Soft!dom Bucky | ~6k of fluffy n filthy goodness | I've broken the fic into three parts with breaks if you wish to stop and continue later | Unedited. If you find any errors (you will), please kindly ignore them for the moment. I typed as I went. I'm too disoriented to edit, but I will as soon as I can | Lemme know if I'm missing anything.
A/N: My first threesome. I mean, first time writing a threesome. I'm already whimpering in dread. So, be gentle with me. Treat me tenderly, and some validation would really ease me. Thank you for sending in the ask for SMUT-BER FEST. My apologies for how--embarrassingly--long it’s taken to get to your ask. I hope you enjoy reading it, my sweet anon! And thank you for your kind words. This is also my submission for Stucky Bingo | Prompt: Napping | @stuckybingo
Most importantly, I've added a small dialogue prompt inspired by Trick or Treat wheel of potential doom. @yenzys-lucky-charm I'm sorry this thought has been marinating in my head for so long, love. I'm way past the due date, and this isn't technically my submission. Since you mentioned how excited you were about this prompt, and now that I've FINALLY gotten inspired, I wanted to tag you. Please feel free to ignore it if any elements of this fic aren't your forte ✨ Hope I did it justice 🩷
Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner and Divider made by me. Picture credits to internet! Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist
Indulge Away!
Bucky gets what he wants, even if it means seducing fighting an annoyed Steve Rogers
Bucky, as per Steve's entirely unqualified yet riveting diagnosis, was a little shit with a severe case of cuteness aggression.
Why, you ask?
Well, it was 2 p.m., and Bucky had just returned home from the compound. And when he walked in and saw you peacefully napping, he absolutely couldn't resist his joy.
Despite Steve's firm warning that you needed rest after pulling an all-nighter, Bucky just couldn't help himself. He'd missed you terribly all day--too many hours apart.
So, like the true, needy mess that he was, he decided to be obnoxiously loud, hoping you'd stir awake, give him a warm smile that would relax him in no seconds, and let him curl up next to you.
Those were the hopes of the brunette man.
But his other love--the too-practical, too-Captainy--was already dousing his plans in cold water.
It wasn't that Bucky didn't understand the importance of your sleep--he did. He knew you'd been putting in extra hours, working on the analysis of some foil, and you hardly slept the last few days and that you didn't sleep at all last night.
Stupid Project!
But you, in all your serene, angelic glory, just looked so irresistible lying there.
Not to be too dramatic but he was desperate and downright itching for you to hold him.
Last night had been miserable. He'd tossed and turned all night, and with Steve holed up at the compound, there was no one to hold him while he slept. Which, of course, meant sleep was out of the question. Steve had tried convincing him to come over, mumbling something about hologram testing and training updates--like that was supposed to be enticing.
A bunch of lies, if you asked Bucky.
Steve was a really needy puppy. The man could hardly stand being away from you for too long without either of them keeping watch. And sure, the offer had been tempting, but Bucky had backed off, figuring he'd crash on the couch with some trash TV instead. The last thing he wanted was to deal with Tony along with his sizable ego and the others when he was in a mood. Not that he disliked any of them--he just wasn't in the headspace for socializing. So, he let Steve play the responsible Captain at the Compound while you worked and he decided to stay back and suffer in peace.
In the early hours that morning, he went to his scheduled training session, running on barely any sleep. You had texted saying you'd be home in the evening, but when he saw you both back earlier than expected, he just couldn't resist, could he?
Thus, he proceeded with his noisy campaign to wake you up, much to Steve's horror.
"Bucky," Steve hissed from across the room as Bucky slammed the bathroom door.
"Stop that," he warned, half-amused by the exaggeratedly loud noises Bucky had been making since the moment he arrived home. Steve’s enhanced hearing only made it worse, amplifying the noise tenfold. But Bucky had the same enhanced hearing, and Steve knew how stealthy his lover could be. That meant Bucky was intentionally making a racket to wake you up--and that annoyed Steve.
"Stop what?" Bucky huffed, raising an eyebrow as he marched toward Steve, intentionally stomping every step.
Though it had plenty of closet space, the walk-in closet attached to the bedroom was far too small for the two of them. Steve had dimmed the lights to avoid disturbing you and even drew the curtains in the bedroom to block out the intense afternoon light pouring through the windows.
"Shh... she's sleeping," Steve shushed, flinging a shirt he was folding toward Bucky in an attempt to get him to stop. But Bucky caught it mid-air, tossed it back into the laundry bin with a grin, and, without missing a beat, yanked Steve toward him by the collar of his undershirt.
Bucky cradled Steve's jaw with an exaggerated air of seriousness, murmuring lowly, "Ya know, I just saw a picture of a grumpy cat online that looked exactly like you."
Bucky's grin widened.
Steve's frown deepened, and the playful glint in Bucky's eyes only intensified.
Rolling his eyes, Steve swatted Bucky's hands away from his cheeks and snorted in amusement. "You sure it wasn't you?" he deadpanned, picking up clothes one by one and sorting them into fold piles and hangers.
Bucky chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled Steve by the neck, his lips nearly grazing Steve's.
Poor Stevie couldn't resist now, could he? Because Bucky looked irresistibly handsome, and he was a weak man when it came to Bucky or you.
Steve felt his resolve slip, and before he knew it, his lips were gravitating toward Bucky's as Bucky leaned in for a soft, teasing kiss. A low moan escaped Steve, and before he could deepen the kiss, Bucky pulled away, leaving Steve with nothing but a rush of warmth and utter annoyance.
Steve groaned, rubbing his face. "You're such a jerk," he muttered, irritated by the half-assed kiss and desperate for more.
Bucky's grin widened wickedly. "What? Do you need me, punk? All you gotta do is ask," he teased, "Nicely," he added, his voice thick with amusement, before leaning in again--this time intently, pushing Steve against the tiny space of empty wall beside the door. Their lips collided, groaning at the taste, deepening the kiss as they moved closer, instinctively pulling each other tighter. The arousing kiss continued, building and building until…
The unmistakable tear was heard.
Both of them exchanged a look.
"Oh, shit!" Bucky laughed, pulling away just enough to look down.
Steve followed Bucky's gaze and froze, his face going pale. There, in Steve's hand, were the torn remains of your favorite bra. It was a cute piece, too, with little dinosaurs and cacti prints. You looked adorable wearing it.
"Son of a bitch, that's her comfy one," Steve muttered in exasperation, turning it in his large hands to see if it was remotely salvageable, but the fabric was in tatters.
"Eh…" Bucky hummed, plucking the fabric from Steve's hands, and inspected the shredded piece with little sympathy, "I hate these traps," he muttered.
"Nope, gotta say goodbye," Bucky sniggered, putting the ripped fabric back into Steve's hands. Steve groaned in defeat.
Bucky patted him on the shoulder with exaggerated pity, and taking advantage of Steve's guilty reminiscence, he slipped out of the closet and into the bedroom, leaving Steve standing there, still processing the carnage.
Bucky plopped himself on the bed with zero resistance from Steve whatsoever. He quickly discarded his joggers, cursing himself for deciding to put them on after the shower. He threw them, aiming for the chair, but Steve caught them mid-air, a frown returning to his face.
Bucky's smile widened at the sound of Steve's angry grunts, whispered under his breath. Ignoring all of Steve's warnings, Bucky turned his focus entirely to you, snuggling comfortably beside you, and wondering how best to announce his arrival.
Steve seemed to read his thoughts because he snapped, nearly shouting, "James, get your ass over here and fold the laundry with me if you're so bored!"
Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes. "I'm not bored, Steven. I'm sleepy," he declared, finger traced gently down your cheek, and you made a soft noise in your sleep.
Steve's patience ebbed away all at once. He cast one last look at your peaceful, slumbering form, Steve had just managed to help you fall asleep, and he wasn't about to let Bucky mess it all up.
With a determined stride, Steve marched over, grabbed Bucky by the waist, and hauled him off the bed without warning. Bucky let out a surprised laugh, but Steve anticipated the noise, quickly pressing his hand to Bucky's mouth to silence him as he began marching him out of the room.
"What the hell?" Bucky grumbled, his brain catching up.
Steve only made it two steps into the living room before Bucky, like a reflex, tackled him to the ground with a booming laugh.
"You're really not listening. Let her sleep," Steve hissed, his voice strained from holding back his irritation and laughter.
"I wasn't doing anything," Bucky guffawed, straddling Steve and pinning him to the floor.
"Cut it out, Buck."
Bucky, now the one in control, held both of Steve's wrists to his chest, completely enjoying the struggle.
"GET UP!" Steve grumbled, pretending to be annoyed, but the amused smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.
"Is that all ya got?" Bucky mocked, raising an eyebrow. "For a man who pulled a helicopter…" He tutted in mock disappointment. "Bad, Stevie. You gotta replenish your big boy energy."
Bucky placed a teasing kiss on Steve's jaw, his breath warm against Steve's skin. "I think you need a nap, too," he whispered.
Steve narrowed his eyes, and as the smug grin on Bucky's face fully registered in his mind, "You look quite energized Buck, and you definitely don't need a nap," Steve remarked flippantly.
Bucky's grin faltered, but only for a second. He kept Steve pinned with his metal arm, his face now just inches from Steve's as he leaned in closer. With a soft chuckle, Bucky pushed off Steve, sliding away from him smoothly and practically leaping off the floor and onto the bed in two long strides, knowing fully well that Steve wouldn't repeat the same mistake of hauling him off the bed a second time.
Bucky mentally counted to five, and sure enough, Steve appeared in the doorway, a frown marring his adorably stupid face.
Steve walked in fully intending to get the rest of the laundry done, however, he glanced at the bed, eyes greedily taking in Bucky's overtly happy and awfully comfortable expression snuggling beside you, and Steve sighed, conceding defeat. With a roll of his eyes, he finally walked over to the bed and carefully settled on the other side.
"You're folding the laundry later," Steve mouthed to Bucky, his voice just above a whisper. He then carefully slid his right arm around your waist, almost instinctively, and settled it over Bucky's side of the bed.
Bucky chuckled proudly, satisfied with himself. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before slowly slipping your hand from beneath your pillow, gently resting it on his own. Your familiar scent filled the space between them, soothing Bucky like the pleasant sound of rain.
Steve peeked at Bucky, a small, affectionate smile tugging at his lips as he felt your feet worm their way between his legs. Bucky's right arm found Steve's on top of your pillow, and without a second's delay, Steve interlaced his fingers with Bucky's, letting out a quiet hum of satisfaction.
"Such a punk," Steve murmured, squeezing Bucky's hand affectionately.
Bucky snorted. His eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the soothing calmness of both you and Steve.
"And no funny business," Steve added softly, his voice almost teasing as he kissed the top of your head, his breath warm on your skin. Bucky smiled to himself, too content to bite back with a reply.
The absolute nerve of Steve to question Bucky's purer, entirely innocent intentions of cuddling and falling asleep peacefully.
****
Steve is sometimes ALWAYS right
Still groggy and barely awake, you blinked open your eyes--only to be met with two bright blue ones and a wide grin. It scared the shit out of you, and you let out an ungraceful squeak.
"Fuck you, Bucky," you mumbled in surprise, but your cry was quickly muffled by his cold metal palm as he hushed you.
You blinked a few more times, adjusting to your surroundings, finally registering the cozy, familiar position you were wrapped in. The warmth of Steve behind you, his face pressed into your shoulder blade, his nose tickling your skin as the unmistakable sound of his snoring reverberated through your back.
"Stevie's snoring? Aww." You cooed, a sleepy, contented pout pulling at your lips. Bucky grinned beside you, nodding.
It was rare for either of them to snore--what with the serum taking most of the brunt of their bodies--but once in a while, exhaustion got the better of them.
"I recorded it, too," Bucky told you proudly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips.
You sighed happily, licking your lips--his kiss felt like the sun's warmth on a cold winter day.
"Of course you did," you chuckled, a yawn slipping out before you could stop it.
Just as expected, Bucky tried to slip his fingers into your mouth mid-yawn, but you swatted his hand away before he could pull his usual antics. He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that charming, divinely gorgeous way that always made your heart flutter.
"What's the time?" you murmured, tugging at his t-shirt. Bucky slid closer, effortlessly molding against you as you hooked a leg over his hip, his thigh slotting between yours. His warmth, his scent--you savored every bit of him.
God, you'd missed him. Missed them.
"4:15," he whispered, voice low and soothing. He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his metal fingers brushing your cheek, tucking away a few stray strands. At some point, your braid must have loosened in your sleep.
"How was training?" you asked, voice drowsy. Bucky grunted in response, lips trailing lazy kisses along your skin. You hummed, fingers idly playing with the fabric of his t-shirt, knowing exactly what that grunt meant. Training without Steve usually had him in a mood.
Bucky shifted just an inch away, his eyes locked on yours. And you smiled at him, watching his eyes twinkle with love. Unable to resist, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his chin. A comfortable silence settled. Bucky and you got lost in each other's touches, eyes blinking slowly.
"You really haven't been sleeping much, have you?" Bucky murmured, his brows twitching into a concerned frown.
You reached up, smoothing your fingers over the crease between them, watching as the tension melted from his face. He sighed under your touch, and you only shrugged slightly, a small pout tugging at your lips.
"I guess," you whispered, your fingers drifting down to gently massage his jaw. Bucky let out a low, satisfied hum, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.
It was during these rare silences--filled with unspoken love you pondered how far you had come. You were so grateful. So unbelievably proud of the choices you had all made, of the life you had built together.
Bucky's expression softened even more as he grumbled, "I'm sorry." His lower lip jutted out just enough to make you want to suckle on it--so you did.
He let out a pleased hum, pressing a soft peck to your lips, his warm breath tickling your senses as he continued, "For trying to wake you up while you were sleeping. I'm such a jerk sometimes."
You let out a quiet laugh but quickly stilled when you felt Steve shift behind you, his forehead pressing snugly against the column of your neck as he instinctively pulled you closer. You waited, holding your breath to see if he would wake. When he didn't, you relaxed and turned your attention back to Bucky, your fingers trailing along his cheek, savoring the contrast between his soft skin and the roughness of his stubble.
"You think I even noticed? I was out like a light," you teased, grinning wide. "Besides, nothing to be sorry about… I know you're my Sugarpuss."
Bucky's eyes widened in mock offense as he dramatically gestured toward Steve. "He's Sugarpuss."
"No, he's not. He's the wise and responsible one of us. He keeps us in line. Besides, he'd only ever call you Sugarpuss," you teased, winking.
Bucky scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"Though… you're more of a sourpuss most of the time," you added with a playful smirk.
Bucky let out a dramatic grunt before suddenly pulling you closer. Steve shifted behind you, now sprawled out on his stomach.
"I'd beat his ass if he ever called me that," Bucky muttered, tossing a leg over you and tugging you flush against him.
"You'd beat my ass too?" you teased, grinning as you pressed soft butterfly kisses along his neck.
Bucky moaned in satisfaction, the deep rumble of his throat vibrating against your lips.
"You're my pretty girl. You can call me any shitty name you want," he murmured, eyes crinkling with affection.
Before you could fawn over that, another snore rumbled from Steve, and Bucky turned his head to glance at him.
Shaking his head in mock disbelief, he huffed, "And he said he didn't need a nap."
"Yeah?" you asked, unable to resist the giggle bubbling up.
"Yeah. Hell-bent on me not lurking around you," Bucky said, shaking his head.
You laughed, snuggling deeper into his warmth.
"Guess what? He came by the lab... Captain mode," you whispered, your fingers threading through Bucky's hair, tugging just the way he liked. He let out a happy sigh, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.
"Really?" Bucky rasped, his voice thick with interest. His hand found the band of your panties, and he snapped them. You squirmed, feeling the warmth bubbling.
"Yeah! He announced that there was a meeting and that I was needed," you continued, chuckling. "Carried me home and put me to sleep."
Bucky hummed his palm kneading slow, lazy circles into your hip. His touch was heavy, possessive. His metal arm slipped underneath your shirt.
"Bucky…" you warned, shaking your head slightly.
But Bucky grinned, squeezing and massaging your tit, flicking your nipple. You squirmed, breath hitching at the sensation.
His smirk was downright sinful. "Put you to sleep, huh?"
Bucky seemed to take pity because he moved his hand away, but only for his fingers now trailing along your collarbone, then down the length of your neck. The cool Vibranium warmed instantly against your skin as he pushed your--Steve's--t-shirt off your shoulder.
"He left marks, didn't he?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, your face reddening up at the memory of Steve taking you apart after you denied that you were not sleepy.
Bucky huffed in mock offense, his fingers ghosting over the faint hickeys. "And he tells me, 'No funny business, Buck.'" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Wise, my ass. I'm the wiser one." The words were more for himself than for you, his lips trailing along the column of your neck.
The way your body responded to him was crazy.
"And I feel absolutely left out," Bucky murmured against your mouth, the warmth of his breath making you shiver.
The need to taste him, to pull him closer, was overwhelming.
"We can't have that, Buck," you whispered.
And then, as if reading each other's minds, you both moved at once. The kiss was passionately satiating yet a consuming hunger overwhelmed you. His tongue trailed inside your mouth, lapping at you hungrily, sucking on your bottom lip.
"You're a goddess, you know that?" he rasped, moaning at the taste, revving you up just right. "Fuck, I missed you so much," Bucky growled lowly. Your dismissive protests of his praise were captured by his mouth, kissing you more while he trailed his metal fingers down your stomach, slipping them into your panties.
Beautiful dilated blues gazed at you, and you arched into him, pulling at the short strands of his hair at the back when he cupped your heat and squeezed it. The moan that escaped you was hungrily captured again, hushing you by kissing.
And Steve shifted behind you, making you still in realization.
"Steve is sleeping," you murmured half-heartedly, feeling Steve shift slightly behind you, but Bucky chuckled, the absolute menace that he was, his fingers prodded at your slick entrance, "Gotta be real quiet then, hmm?" he groaned.
"Buck…" You started, only to be shut off by one finger inching inside, and your breath hitched.
"These are not helping," he groaned, caressing and nipping at the marks Steve left on you earlier.
You gripped onto his back, fingers digging into his skin as retribution for the pleasure he was providing you. Bucky nipped at the skin right under your ear, making you squirm. He pushed his second finger inside, setting a languid pace, and let out a rather low growl.
You moaned into his ear, licking the skin on the side of his neck, nipping. God, he smelled like temptation, and you felt weak.
You cried in delight as you felt his fingers hit the spot he was privy to.
You felt parched, and you needed him.
"I know, I know. Good fucking girl," he rumbled, shifting onto his back and pulling you effortlessly on top of him. You stumbled against his chest, breathless, limbs tangled.
You froze for a second, glancing at Steve, but he was still fast asleep, his steady breathing undisturbed.
When you looked back at Bucky, he was grinning up at you, dazed and smug, his eyes glinting wickedly.
You had a good retort ready, but he curled his fingers, turning the words into a moan, and his other hand weaved into your hair, bringing you close to his mouth and sucking your lower lip.
"Quiet, pretty girl. Don't wanna disturb him. Do we?" You bit onto his jaw, holding back the moans that were trying to escape.
Bucky adjusted you in his arms, pressing you against his strong chest, his fingers fucking your wet and welcoming heat. "Hmm. Fuck, you smell divine," he grunted.
Your teeth grazed his skin, his scent hit you tenfold, and the pleasure made you heady.
"Beautiful," Bucky mumbled, his fingers curled expertly inside, and you teetered on the edge of pleasure, breath caught.
"And mine. Ours," Bucky added, moaning against the corner of your mouth, his hips thrusting up against your thigh. The tickling sensation of his hardness made you squirm, and Bucky's languid thrusts turned faster.
"Bucky," You moaned, and he captured your mouth in a sloppy kiss.
"Yeah? Gonna cum, aren't you? Fuck. My perfect girl," he encouraged, and you nodded, mouth falling open, speechless, while your pussy gripped onto his fingers. The sensation hit you fast, clutching you into the depths of pleasure.
Bucky held you tightly, kissing your jaw as you rode your orgasm. He pulled his fingers out slowly, and you whimpered when he brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean. His eyes shut for a moment. "Bucky," you breathed. The sight always mortified and did things to you.
"I wanna eat you," he muttered hoarsely, his voice humming through his chest, making your heart flutter.
"But I know you can't keep quiet if I get my mouth on you," he chuckled condescendingly, pushing his boxers down, and your eyes widened, looking at him pointedly.
You shook your head at him, this time more vehemently, but Bucky's smug grin only widened as he adjusted you properly, and your hands held onto him for stability. He nudged you with a wink, giving himself a stroke and slotting his tip at your entrance. Your hesitation vanished with how good it felt.
You both could be quiet, right?
Your breath hitched as he slowly rocked from underneath, and you collapsed onto his broad chest.
"Are you close already?" He cooed, completely sheathed inside you. Bucky gritted his teeth when he felt you clench him.
Your breath caught as your fingers gripped at his t-shirt, and your mouth muffled with bites.
Bucky was making you speechless, wild, and a moaning mess.
A loud guttural groan escaped him, and you hushed him pointedly.
"Fuck, I can't help it," He remarked.
****
When Captain Rogers wakes up. Teehee!
Feeling the knot in your stomach tighten, you nipped at his collarbone. Bucky's palm flexed on your hip, pulling you more into him, and the slight pain it caused made you clench onto him tightly while pleasure rippled through your body.
Bucky hissed, muttering how perfectly you milked him. When his tip kissed your cervix, you moaned.
"Mmm…feels like heaven. Doesn't it?" Bucky hissed, pushing your t-shirt to the side harshly and biting your shoulder. Your nails dug into his biceps, metal and flesh alike, tightly. The contrast urged you on more.
Your t-shirt--Steve's t-shirt--rucked up high with all the thrusting, and you pushed Bucky's t-shirt just a bit up to feel his skin against yours--taut, muscular, soft, scarred, and all yours. "You're so pretty, Buck," You sighed happily, his hardness feeling so full and fulfilling, and you felt the familiar rush as you careened into pleasure.
A sleepy snort broke the moment, followed by a large, steady hand wrapping around your waist, halting your movement. The pleasure that had been building crashed just as fast, leaving you teetering on the edge. You almost wailed in frustration.
You and Bucky turned at the same time, cheek-to-cheek, to face the culprit.
Steve was awake--barely. Propped up on one elbow, his face was adorably scrunched, hair sleep-mussed, eyes narrowed at the two of you with faux disapproval. He let out a deep, raspy chuckle, the sound rolling through your body teasingly, making you squirm against Bucky.
You unknowingly clenched him just a bit, and Bucky groaned, rocking into you.
Bucky's stubble tickled your cheek as he spoke, his chuckle vibrating through his chest.
"Hands off, Steve. We're in the middle of something," Bucky growled, emphasizing his point with a deep thrust. No one could stop the moan coming from you. The pleasure building again.
When Steve tapped your cheek, you opened your eyes to see his amused grin. In the next instant, Steve straddled Bucky, towering over you from behind. His hand tightened around your waist before you were haphazardly lifted off Bucky.
Both you and Bucky hissed at the sudden loss of contact.
You expected Steve to throw you onto the bed, but no. Your eyes widened as you looked at Bucky, who looked back with an expression of both amusement and irritation.
Steve smacked your butt, and you squealed, trying hard to steady yourself on Bucky.
Steve didn't give you time. He pulled you up against his warm chest, discarding your--his--t-shirt and throwing away his to the side. Bucky's gaze shifted to your tits, and he grinned, his both hands coming up to squeeze them.
"Can't help yourself, Buck. Can you?" Steve taunted. Bucky cursed, throwing empty threats at Steve. Steve angled your hips, rubbing his tip against your slick.
Oh, Fuck! Your eyes widened.
You collapsed on Bucky at the sensation, and he steadied you.
"STEVE…Holy…" You gasped as Steve entered you slowly from behind without much resistance, simultaneously bending you onto Bucky.
Bucky was still hard, and he twitched against your tummy, hot and wet.
"Gotta teach him a lesson," Steve said, and honestly, you didn't care. You just want them to stop edging you.
Bucky bared his teeth in sweet agony as he moved to touch himself, but Steve was faster, and he swatted Bucky's hand away.
"Nuh-uh, you're gonna watch while I make our pretty girl feel good," Steve chuckled darkly, his broad frame engulfing you as he nuzzled your neck, placing soft kisses on your shoulder.
"Steve," Bucky gritted in annoyance, trying to squirm away.
"Can't take one order," Steve mocked, riling Bucky up, his hand splayed on the inside of your right thigh and spread you some more, firmly adjusting you on Bucky's torso.
"Fuckkkkk," You cried.
"You're not my boss," Bucky growled challengingly. You could feel him squirm under you both.
"Is that so?" Steve hummed from over your shoulder, too pleased with himself. His hands loosened the grip around you and moved to Bucky's jaw while Steve's other hand held your waist, hoisting you up just a bit. You held onto his forearm with both hands as you felt your knees wobble.
"You're such a punk," Bucky chuckled, his eyes blown in hazy lust. And with a single tap against his lips, Bucky sucked onto his thumb. The sight was hot and was making you delirious with need. You clenched around Steve, and a breathy gasp turned into a moan when Steve pulled out and thrust into you.
Your nails dug into Steve's arm harshly as the pleasure wrecked you.
Bucky pulled you and Steve on top of him and Steve eased you gently onto Bucky and pinned his hands beside him. The angled thrust had you almost coming. Almost.
Their weight and warmth added to your pleasure. Steve adjusted your hips as he pounded you from behind.
Steve nudged against your neck, propping against your shoulder as he leaned toward Bucky.
"I said no funny business. Didn't I?" Steve reminded Bucky, their banter holding nothing back as Steve pounded into you without breaking pace while Bucky kissed your parted mouth.
Bucky winked. "You have no right demanding shit from me, punk." he traced the slightly dark marks on the expanse of your chest, ones that Steve took his time leaving earlier.
Steve's breathless laugh tickled your throat as he pulled Bucky for a kiss, effectively squishing you between them. The angle only made you scream as pleasure shot through you.
"Easy there," Bucky warned Steve.
"FUCKK…" Steve lifted you off Bucky slightly, his one arm wrapping around you carefully, firmly, resting both of your weights on his knees, straddling Bucky.
"Don't worry, Sweetheart. I aim to please. You know that," Steve said to Bucky while adjusting Bucky's cock directly where you were connected, rubbing it gently on your clit, and you gasped, squirming away from his grip. The sensation was driving you nuts.
All three of you moaned in sync. A litany of curses spewed.
You threw your head onto Steve's shoulder, both hands gripping his forearm as he rocked into you.
"Eyes on me," Bucky demanded, squeezing your tit and pinching your nipple. It felt like a Herculean task to open your eyes, but you did, meeting his darkened blues. He parted his lips, tongue peeking out as he forced you closer. Steve loosened his grip, maneuvering you closer to Bucky.
"You smell so fucking good," Bucky grunted, taking you in a searing kiss.
"Look at you. So needy. Fuck, I could do this all day," Steve moaned, increasing his pace. Despite the pleasure coursing through, both you and Bucky rolled your eyes at him in sync, and a few breathy chuckles escaped you.
"Shut up," Steve exclaimed, chuckling. Steve unwound one of his forearms and trailed it up Bucky's chest, carding through Bucky's short locks as he tugged them.
"OH FUCKKK…" Bucky moaned lewdly, baring his teeth and biting his lower lip.
"Can't take one order now, can you?" Steve hissed as his pace faltered, he was close, fucking sporadically.
Bucky intertwined his fingers with yours with a squeeze that spoke of love amidst the filthy, noisy mess you all were making. Steve placed an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, nipping as his fingers from Bucky's hair moved to place his large palm on his chest, right above Bucky's heart.
Bucky's erection rubbed against you and Steve hard and fast, right where you were joined.
"You're close, aren't you, Buck," Steve grunted as he rolled his hips, pressing you sensually against Bucky.
The manly groans, their scent, and their warmth, added to the sweet sensations…Holy Shitz! You were coming for the second time that day around Steve.
"I love you both. FUCK!" Steve moaned, thrusting a couple more times before you felt the hot white ropes filling you up, and you came tumbling down as white-hot pleasure throbbed your senses as you milked him, clutching onto both of them so tightly that it would have left their bones broken were they not supersoldiers.
"Oh shit!" Bucky groaned as he rocked upwards, cumming all over your front and his.
Your body flailed as you collapsed into Bucky, and so did Steve. Steve's taut, sweaty, muscular chest weighed you down onto Bucky, and his partial weight felt heavenly on you.
"I love you," You breathed, eyes closed as you nuzzled into Bucky's soft t-shirt, the stars still exploding behind your lids.
You felt euphoric!
The three of you laid there for a while.
You didn't--couldn't--open your eyes when you were readjusted, now lying on Steve.
Steve's laughter rumbled against your back as you felt Bucky move over you.
"Open 'em, sweet girl," Bucky cooed against your mouth, and you did. He grinned widely.
"You got one more in you, don't you, doll?" Bucky asked. His cock was hard, tip nudging your slick heat.
You bit your lip, not directly answering, but rocking against his tip. Bucky gave a dazzling smile as he inched inside you.
Oh, you were going to be sore and would need all the rest, but you couldn't deny your man, could you now?
"Good girl," Bucky groaned as he gently adjusted you above Steve.
"I love me some supersoldier sandwich," you managed to utter, your words broken and mostly turning into a moan.
"Oh, we're aware," Steve quirked, placing kisses alongside your neck, spreading your thighs wide, and holding them firmly as Bucky fucked you in missionary on Steve.
"Feels good, Buck? Is my cum warming you up well?" Steve taunted, revving Bucky up a bit more.
Steve moved strands of hair out of your face and brushed Bucky's forehead, and you could feel his hardness poking your hips.
Bucky groaned as he fucked with much more vigor. Dear Heavens! You felt every thrust, and it also made you conscious of your weight pressing into Steve.
A thought, while quite stupid, crept into your fucked out mind unknowingly.
"Hey, hey…too much?" Bucky asked, stalling his movements. You blushed, shaking your head, and tilted behind and looked up at a concerned Steve.
"Are you okay?" You asked him. You saw the look of recognition in his eyes, and his concern etched away.
"I am, sweetheart," Steve sighed, adjusting you more firmly, and you squealed. Bucky tapped your cheek, and you met his gaze reluctantly.
"Buck, love some sense into her, harder," Steve chuckled, placing a kiss on your temple, his hands massing your thighs.
You gasped. "I didn't mean…OH FUCKKKK," You started, but Bucky's thrust cut you off.
"Oh, now you follow his orders." You cried and arched on Steve's naked body.
Steve's hand tugged at Bucky's hair. And Bucky moaned, biting onto your chest. Steve turned your knees, helping you wrap them around Bucky's, and you clutched onto Bucky tightly.
Steve's hand crept between you and Bucky and rubbed your overstimulated clit. It really didn't take long before you felt the orgasm consume you.
"I'm…"
"Cum for me." Bucky breathed against your skin, his stubble rough and sensual against your chest as he sucked on your tit.
You were thankful that your home was far off civilization, completely private, because the way you shouted, you bet people would have surely freaked the fuck out.
"Holy Shit!" Bucky's hips stuttered, and soon he was filling you up, moaning loudly in that deep voice that made your pussy flutter.
~
"I love you," Steve whispered reverently, and you hummed blissfully, unable to form any words in response after those body-shattering orgasms. You fell into a dreamless void almost immediately, ears ringing as your body trembled in the aftermath of pleasure. You had no idea how long you slept.
"Come on, doll, gotta clean you up." You were barely aware of the events that followed, only remembering being carried to the guest bedroom vividly.
"Gotta change the sheets, doll. Sleep here," Steve said as he gently adjusted you on the queen mattress. Steve and Bucky's muffled voices sifted through your foggy mind.
"You're a fucking idiot, Stevie. I love you," you heard Bucky laugh, and you chuckled, mentally agreeing with him, though you weren't entirely sure what they were talking about.
Steve scoffed playfully, muttering something at Bucky that only made him laugh harder. Then, Steve tucked you in with a warm blanket, placing a tender kiss on your cheek.
"Get going, Buck. You promised to finish up with the laundry. I'll make dinner," Steve said.
"I'll help, too," you mumbled into the pillow.
Steve chuckled, peppering your neck with kisses that made you squirm from the sensation. "You're going to sleep and get all the rest. Understood?" he declared.
"Yes, Captain Rogers," you breathed, relaxing as your weight sank into the mattress. Steve's kiss lingered on your cheek long after, and you heard the floorboards creak as he shuffled away. The door groaned softly when he stepped into the living room.
God, one of you seriously needed to oil the door. The croaking was getting creepy.
Moments later, the bed dipped beside you. Bucky's warm fingers slid through your hair, massaging your scalp with slow, gentle strokes.
"Don't make me come in there, Bucky," Steve's voice carried from the living room, laced with warning.
Bucky chuckled against your neck. "He's such a prick sometimes," he groaned, his breath warm against your skin.
"I heard that," Steve's voice was much closer now. You chuckled sleepily.
"Steve tore your favorite bra," Bucky stage-whispered.
"Huh?" you mumbled, confused. You weren't wearing a bra, though. You blinked your eyes open, only to see Bucky being dragged out of the room.
Ummm…I'll be hiding and working on those amazing ASKS in my inbox, if you need me… 🫣🤭🙂↕️
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Summary: Pressed by a worried Sam, Bucky reluctantly agrees to try an alternative -and, if you ask him, weird- therapy program: rent-a-mom. What starts as an obligation soon turns into something far more meaningful than he ever expected.
Word Count: About 20k.
note: Yeah… it’s a long one. This has been sitting in my folder for a while, and I couldn’t figure out where to split it, so here we are. Please don’t hate me! 😅 If you enjoy it, I’d really appreciate it if you could share or leave a comment, it means so much.
After everything he’d been through -Hydra, Zemo, Thanos, Steve’s departure, and now therapy with Dr. Raynor- Bucky still couldn’t seem to find peace. The nightmares remained, the guilt festered, and every glance he got on the street reminded him of who he used to be, not who he was trying to become. Trusting people felt impossible, and his defenses were built like steel walls.
Sam, however, refused to let him slip further into isolation. Over the past few months, he’d watched him struggle silently, shrugging off every attempt to help him open up. But The Falcon wasn’t one to give up easily.
One evening, while they were returning from a brief mission on a plane, he finally brought it up again.
“You ever thought about alternative therapy?” he asked casually, pressing a cooling bag over his shoulder.
Bucky didn’t even look up from where he was unlacing his boots. “What, like yoga?” His voice was flat and unimpressed. “I don’t bend that way.”
“No, not yoga.” Sam’s tone was patient like he was explaining something to a stubborn child. “It’s something some veterans are trying. Heard about it from a guy at the VA.”
“Right.” Bucky snorted. “Modern mumbo jumbo. What is it? Journaling? Crystals? Hugging trees?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s called rent-a-mom.”
That got Bucky’s attention. His head snapped up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Rent-a-what?”
“Rent-a-mom,” Sam repeated, biting back a grin at Bucky’s incredulous expression. “It’s this service where someone -usually a nice, older lady- comes to your place for a couple of hours a week. She cooks, chats, and keeps you company. Some guys use it to feel normal again, you know? A little comfort or emotional support, whatever you need, with no judgment.”
Bucky stared at him for a beat before deadpanning, “So you’re telling me to hire a prostitute.”
Sam threw his hands up in exasperation. “What is wrong with you man? No! That’s not what this is.”
“You sure? Because whatever I need, with no judgment sounds like you’re telling me to hire someone to-”
“Stop!” Sam cut him off, pointing a finger at him. “It’s not like that, okay? She works with vets all the time. You know, people like you who don’t trust anyone and think the world’s out to get them.
Bucky crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat. “Sounds like a scam.”
“It’s not a scam. I know a guy who uses her services. He says it’s the only thing that keeps him grounded some weeks. And it’s not just him. A lot of vets partaking on the program swear by it.”
Bucky grumbled under his breath, something about “modern nonsense” and “people these days.”
Sam sighed, leaning forward. “Look, man, I’m not saying it’s gonna fix all your problems. But what’s the harm in trying? One session. Worst-case scenario, you don’t like it, and you never call her again.”
Bucky shook his head. “I don’t need some stranger poking around in my life.”
“She’s not gonna poke,” Sam insisted. “She’s just there to help. And let’s be real, you could use it. You’ve been holed up in that apartment for weeks. When’s the last time you had a real conversation with someone who wasn’t me or that Raynor bitch?”
Bucky didn’t answer, just tightened his jaw.
“Exactly,” Sam said, leaning back with a smirk. “Plus, you owe me for Redwing. That little stunt you pulled last week? Yeah, I’m still mad about that.”
“Cheap shot,” Bucky muttered, glaring at the floor.
“Call it whatever you want. You’re doing this.”
After a long, heavy pause, Bucky sighed. “Fine. One session. But if this is a waste of my time, I’m blaming you.”
Sam grinned, already pulling out his phone. “You’re gonna thank me when it works. Just wait.”
----
Bucky sat on the edge of his couch, glaring at his phone like it had personally wronged him. Sam had texted him the woman’s contact information a few hours ago, with an obnoxious winky face at the end. He couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be reassuring or not but either way, it made his skin crawl.
“Just one session,” he muttered, running his hand down his face. Sam’s words echoed in his head: “It’s not what you think, man. She’s just… good at what she does. People trust her.” Trust. Bucky scoffed. That wasn’t something he handed out easily anymore, but after the Redwing incident, Sam wasn’t going to let him live it down unless he followed through. Grimacing, he tapped out a message.
Hi. This is James Barnes. Sam Wilson gave me your contact information. He said you… help people. I’m interested in setting up a session. Let me know if you’re available.
He stared at the screen for a good minute before hitting send. The second the message left his phone, he regretted it.
What the hell am I doing?
His internal spiral was interrupted by a response. That was fast.
Hi, James! Thanks for reaching out. I’d be happy to help. How does Tuesday at 5 PM sound?
He frowned. No small talk? No questions? Just… straight to the point. It wasn’t what he’d expected, but he appreciated it.
Fine, he replied, then immediately felt like a jerk. Then he added a Thanks.
----
Thursday came too quickly. Bucky paced his apartment, tidying up out of sheer nervous energy. He wasn’t sure what to expect. What was this woman going to do? Make him tea? Lecture him on proper nutrition? Sam had called her a “mom-for-hire,” but the idea still sounded absurd.
At exactly 5 PM, there was a knock at the door. Bucky froze. For a split second, he considered pretending he wasn’t home. But he sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and opened the door, noticing two things:
First, this Mom was not an older lady. Either Sam left out that critical detail, or she was some kind of evil witch who sucked the life force out of her victims to stay young.
Second, she was… nice to look at. He quickly chastised himself for the thought.
“Hi,” she said, in a warm but professional tone, like she’d done this a hundred times before. There was no hesitation in her posture, no uncertainty in her eyes. She shifted the bag on her shoulder and offered a small smile. “You must be James.”
“Bucky.” he corrected gruffly, crossing his arms and leaning slightly against the doorframe. “You’re not what I expected.”
Her smile doesn’t falter. “Let me guess. You were expecting someone older? Maybe with glasses and a knitting basket?”
Bucky raises an eyebrow, not confirming but not denying either.
She lets out a soft laugh. “I get that a lot.”
The silence stretched between them, and then he realized he was just standing there, blocking the doorway like an idiot. He stepped aside, muttering a “Come in.”
She entered the apartment, glancing around the living room as she set her bag down, taking in the stark, utilitarian setup. A couch, a small TV on a stand, and little else. The dining table was non-existent, replaced by a counter with two bar stools. “This is… cozy,” she said diplomatically, gesturing at the space.
Bucky’s lips twitched in a faint smirk. “It works.”
She hummed in response, her gaze falling to the small stack of books on the coffee table. A couple of dog-eared crime novels sat next to a remote. There wasn’t much else to indicate anyone truly lived here. No photos, no clutter, just the bare essentials.
He folded his arms again, hovering near the door as if he wasn’t sure whether to close it or bolt. “Look, I don’t need the whole... whatever it is you do. Sam talked me into this, so don’t feel like you have to stick around for too long.”
She didn’t seem fazed by his awkward brusqueness. Instead, she just nodded and set the bag down on his counter. She began unpacking a few items, ingredients, it looked like.
“So,” she said, turning to him with an easy smile. “What’s on the agenda for today? You tell me what you need, and we’ll go from there.”
What he needed? Hell if he knew.
“Uh…” He shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t… really know how this works.”
“That’s okay,” she reassured, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “We can start small. How about I make us something warm to eat while we talk?”
Talk. Right. He could handle that. Probably. And the food didn’t sound half bad either.
“Sure,” he said, with a softer tone now. He hesitated before adding, “Thanks.”
She smiled at him again and reached into her bag, pulling out a neatly folded apron. Without hesitation, she slipped it over her summer dress, tying the strings behind her back. The casual way she moved threw him off; she already seemed at ease in his space, which was more than he could say for himself.
“Is there anything you don’t like to eat?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder as she headed toward the kitchen.
Bucky blinked at her like she’d just asked him if he believed in unicorns. “Anything I don’t like?” His eyebrows lifted, clearly baffled by the concept.
“Yes,” she replied with a small laugh, looking back at him as if to say she was serious.
He gave a short huff, leaning against the counter, his lips twitching with faint amusement. “Doll, I grew up in the Depression. You ate what you got and licked the plate clean.”
She froze mid-step, her hands moving to her hips as she turned to face him fully. “Okay, first of all, you don’t ‘doll’ your mother,” she said, her tone firm but with a playful edge. “So let’s make it clear: that won’t be a thing between us.”
His head tilted, his eyes narrowing slightly in mild surprise at her sudden, slightly commanding tone.
“And second,” she continued, crossing her arms as if daring him to argue, “we’re not in the Depression anymore. So, humor me and tell me if there’s anything you don’t like.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, the smallest hint of a smirk appearing as he quirked an eyebrow at her. She wasn’t what he’d expected. Not even close.
“Guess I’ll have to think about it,” he muttered with the faintest trace of amusement.
She rolled her eyes, tying the apron snugly around her waist. “Well, then tell me what you do like, so I can see if I can pull it off with what we’ve got.”
He hesitated, darting away his gaze as if the question required more thought than it should. Finally, he mumbled, “Potatoes?”
Her lips twitched with amusement. “Lucky for you, I brought some with me.” She nodded toward another bag she’d left near the door.
Bucky watched as she moved around his kitchen, opening cabinets and peeking into drawers. It was strange seeing someone else handle his things like they belonged there.
She moved to his fridge next, tugging it open, and froze. For a long moment, she just stared, her head tilting slightly. “Huh.”
Bucky frowned, leaning to the side to see what had caught her attention. “What?”
She stepped back, gesturing inside with a wooden spoon she’d plucked from the counter. “The two plums are fine, but that sad, dried-out lemon is holding on by a thread, and…” Her nose wrinkled as she peered at a container shoved in the back. “I don’t even want to guess what’s in that tupperware.”
He shifted as his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s probably still good.”
“Bucky.” She turned to him, one brow arched and her tone matter-of-fact. “We’re going to have to make a shopping list if these visits are going to continue. Unless you’re planning to survive off potatoes and mystery leftovers?”
His lips twitched again, but he didn’t say anything, just shrugged.
“I’ll take that as agreement,” she said, grabbing the potatoes she’d brought with her and setting them on the counter. “For now, I’ll work some magic with these and whatever’s actually edible in here.”
He smirked faintly, leaning against the counter as he watched her sort through his kitchen again with an air of efficiency like she’d done this a thousand times before.
At some point, she straightened up and caught his gaze. “You didn’t say anything yet,” she said, leaning a little on the counter. “but I assume you have questions about what I do?”
He shifted uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck as if buying time. “Sam told me something… about cooking and talking,” he muttered hesitantly. Then he glanced away, subtly implying that he didn’t expect much beyond that.
She didn’t rush him, waiting patiently for him to finish. When he fell silent, she let out a soft chuckle and grabbed a cutting board from the counter. “I have a proper job, you know,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. “At a bookstore. This…” she continued, gesturing vaguely toward the room, “is just something I’ve been doing for a couple of years now. It started when a lady from the program came into the shop looking for books to read to her son before nap time.” She paused, her lips curving in a small, amused smile. “The thing is, this lady was, well… let’s just say she was quite old to have a little kid. She must have seen the look on my face because she told me about this initiative she was part of.”
Bucky tilted his head, curiosity tugging at his otherwise guarded expression. “And you signed up?”
“Eventually,” she admitted, peeling one of the potatoes with practiced ease. “I kept running into her, and she’d stop by the store to chat about how the reading sessions were going, how much her ‘kid’ enjoyed them.” She made air quotes with her fingers, smirking. “Turned out, her kid was a Vietnam vet. He was struggling with some things, and she was helping him feel more grounded.”
Bucky arched his brows.
“Exactly,” she said, laughing softly. “I thought it was strange at first, too, but the more I learned, the more I realized how much of a difference it can make for some people.” She paused, setting the peeler down and turning to fully face him, with a softer expression now. “There’s something about the kind of comfort a mother gives, something other roles just… don’t quite reach.”
Bucky tilted his head slightly, furrowing his brow.
“You’ve probably seen it,” she continued, “Soldiers in their last moments, calling for their moms. Or when they’re delirious with fever or pain, their minds go back to a time when they felt safe, protected, and cared for. It’s not about the specific person, it’s the feeling. That deep-rooted need to know someone’s there for you, no matter what.”
His jaw tightened, and his gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before flicking back to her. She didn’t miss the shift in his expression, a flicker of recognition, a shadow of memory.
“I’m not saying I’m trying to be anyone’s mother,” she added quickly, offering him a gentle smile to lighten the mood. “But sometimes people just need a little bit of that energy in their life, you know? A chance to feel… safe.”
Bucky’s mouth pressed into a thin line, stiffening briefly before he exhaled, his relaxing his shoulders just a fraction. He didn’t say anything, but the weight of her words lingered in the air between them.
He had to admit it sounded... nice. Having someone to turn to when things got… when you couldn’t breathe. When the world felt too heavy and every corner of your mind was filled with noise you couldn’t escape. But just as that thought settled in, his defenses kicked in, sharp and automatic.
He scoffed, the sound coming out a little too rough, a little too biting. “And then what? You cuddle on the couch, singing a lullaby?”
Her hands stilled, and she turned to look at him, meeting his gaze. There was no annoyance in her expression, no judgment. Just a calmness that made him feel even more off-balance.
“If that’s what you need,” she said simply, “then yes.”
For a moment, he was stunned into silence, caught off guard. There was no sarcasm, no condescension, just a sincerity that felt almost disarming.
His eyes darted away as he shifted his weight, the corners of his mouth twitched in an effort to form a response. But for once, words failed him, leaving only the quiet hum of the kitchen and the soft clatter of her returning to the potatoes.
“There are some info sheets and forms in the bag,” she said, nodding toward her tote. “If you want to read and complete them while I do this.” She gestured as she resumed working on the potatoes.
Bucky hesitated, flicking his gaze between her and the bag. “What’s the payment?” he asked gruffly, trying to keep his voice casual. “In case… in case I might be interested.”
She paused for a beat, then glanced over her shoulder with a small smile. “I don’t charge veterans,” she said simply.
He blinked, clearly taken aback. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Finally, he managed, “Sam didn’t… didn’t tell me that.”
“Well,” she said, setting the knife down for a moment and turning fully to face him, “to be fair, Sam told me a little about you.”
At the slight stiffness that crept into his expression, she quickly added, “Just… basic things.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m already working with someone who’s… retired now, and I wasn’t sure about having two ‘sons’ in the same department, so to speak.”
She hesitated, studying his face for a moment before continuing. “But when he told me who you were… I didn’t doubt it for a second. You’re a hero, you know?”
He seemed surprised by the statement, his brows knitting together as if trying to make sense of her words. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. Finally, he grumbled, “Don’t know about that, but thanks.”
She smiled softly, “Don’t thank me, sweetheart. I’m just stating the obvious.” With that, she turned back to the cooking, leaving Bucky standing there, uncomfortably aware of the unexpected swell of gratitude threatening to creep past his defenses.
He then opened the tote bag and pulled out a neatly organized folder. Inside, there were several documents, each clipped together in its own section. He skimmed over the first page, a set of “basic rules” clearly outlined at the top.
His brow furrowed slightly as he read. Boundaries: He would only call her “Mama” or some other variant, never her name, an instruction that immediately made his stomach twist with both unease and an odd sense of reassurance. The point was clear: this wasn’t a friendship or anything else ambiguous. It was meant to define their dynamic firmly.
Further down, he saw a list of do’s and don’ts regarding acceptable forms of touching. The wording was straightforward but gentle, ensuring the rules were understood without feeling restrictive. A clause about privacy caught his attention: Everything discussed during their sessions would remain strictly confidential. Nothing said between them would be disclosed, ever.
He sighed and leaned against the counter, flipping to the next section. The forms included a series of questions: What would you expect from these sessions? What would you prefer not to happen? What are your favorite comforts? Least favorite?
The questions made him uncomfortable. What did he expect? Hell if he knew. What would he even put down for “favorite comforts”? He tapped the pen against the counter, unsure where to start.
When he finally glanced back at her, she was chopping the potatoes with practiced ease. “And what happens after I fill this out?” he asked, trying to sound neutral.
“Once the forms are completed and signed,” she said without turning around, “I’ll be in charge of the dynamic.” She paused, glancing at him over her shoulder with a small smile. “After all, Mama knows best.”
Her tone was light, teasing, but the words landed heavier than she might have realized. Bucky stared at the form again, feeling the faintest flicker of something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe trust. Maybe just exhaustion. Either way, the weight of his pen didn’t feel as heavy anymore.
“You don’t have to sign it right now,” she said, washing her hands and wiping them on a towel. Turning back to him, she added, "Maybe wait and see how this goes first?" then, she walked toward the living room and perched on the edge of the couch patting the spot next to her. “Sit. You can tell me about your week while the potatoes cook… if you want.”
Bucky hesitated for a moment, glancing toward the couch like it might be a trap. Finally, he crossed the room, lowering himself onto the seat beside her. The couch dipped under his weight, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed a hand over his face. The silence hung between them, save for the faint sound of traffic through the window. After a moment, he started to bounce his knee.
She noticed the motion and glanced at him, her gaze drifting lower. That’s when it hit her, the long-sleeved henley and the glove on his hand. The room wasn’t exactly cold. In fact, with the oven going and the potatoes roasting, it was comfortably warm.
Her brows knitted together. “Bucky,” she started carefully, with a light tone, “you know by now that I knew who you were before I knocked on your door, right?”
He turned his head slightly, not quite meeting her eyes but acknowledging her words with a small grunt.
“So… don’t you want to change into something less... suffocating?” She gestured loosely at his shirt. “I mean, it’s hot in here.”
His knee stopped bouncing. He straightened slightly but didn’t respond right away. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw worked like he was weighing his next move.
“It’s fine,” he muttered, his voice gruff. He didn’t sound angry, just… uncertain.
“It’s not fine,” she countered gently. “You’ll overheat sitting here like that. Besides, I thought we were working on this whole... trust thing since you know… the mom thing?”
Her words hung in the air, and for a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, with a deep breath, Bucky pushed himself to his feet, heading toward the hallway. He muttered something under his breath that she didn’t catch, but the slight hunch of his shoulders told her he was uncomfortable. Still, he disappeared into the bedroom, and she heard the sound of a drawer opening.
When he returned a few minutes later, he was wearing a soft, dark gray T-shirt. He paused in the doorway, his eyes flicking to her briefly before he sat back down, this time leaning into the couch instead of perching on the edge.
“Better?” he asked, his tone dry but not harsh.
“Much better,” she replied, a smile tugging at her lips.
Bucky didn’t say anything, but his shoulders seemed to relax just a fraction. The oven timer went off in the kitchen, breaking the moment, and she stood, giving him a reassuring pat on the knee as she passed by.
As she checked the food with her back turned to him, she spoke casually, “Sam said you’ve been having a rough time lately.”
Bucky frowned, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Sam talks too much.”
Her lips quirked in a small smile, though she didn’t turn around. “He’s worried about you.”
“He doesn’t need to be,” Bucky muttered.
“Maybe not. But he is. And from what I can tell, he’s the kind of person who acts on that worry.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m not here to pry.”
Bucky’s shoulders tensed slightly, and his jaw tightened. “Then why are you here?” The question came out sharper than he intended, his voice low and clipped, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she turned off the stove, wiped her hands on a towel, and finally faced him.
“Why am I here?” she echoed with a calm tone. “One, because you texted. And two…” She crossed the room slowly, stopping a few feet from the couch. Her gaze softened, her head tilting slightly. “Sometimes, it helps to have someone around. Someone who’s not a therapist or a friend who knows too much. Just… someone.”
For a moment, he didn’t respond. His expression was unreadable, but she could see the gears turning in his head. She approached the couch and sat down beside him, leaving just enough space to avoid crowding him but close enough to offer her quiet support.
Bucky shifted slightly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together tightly. The silence between them stretched, but it didn’t feel heavy. It felt like an invitation for him to speak if he wanted to, no pressure, no expectations.
“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he said finally, almost in a grumble.
“I know.” Her reply was soft, almost instinctive. “It’s okay.”
His shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and for the first time that evening, he glanced at her directly. There was a hint of something vulnerable in his expression. Hesitation, perhaps.
“It’s just…” he started, his voice trailing off as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been a lot lately. I don’t even know where to start.”
“Just where you feel like it, I’ll be here to listen. And if you don’t want to talk, that is fine too, one doesn’t tell everything to their mom, hm?” she assured gently.
The timer beeped from the kitchen again, cutting through the moment. She reached over, giving his forearm a brief, reassuring squeeze before standing. “Let me get that before the potatoes burn.” As she moved toward the kitchen, she glanced back at him with a small smile. “Think about it, Bucky. No rush.”
He watched her retreat, his chest feeling a little lighter, though he couldn’t quite explain why.
When she called from the kitchen, cheerfully announcing that dinner was almost ready, he found himself answering without thinking. “Smells good.”
It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
He pushed himself off the couch with a grunt and crossed the short distance to the kitchen in a few long strides. Without a word, he started opening cabinets and drawers, pulling out a couple of plates and utensils to set up at the counter.
“Oh, such a good boy!” she teased warmly.
He paused, shooting her a look over his shoulder, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and embarrassment. “It’s just the right thing to do,” he muttered gruffly, his ears tinged faintly pink.
She bit back a smile as she pulled the tray of potatoes from the oven, the aroma filling the small kitchen. As she set the tray down, she reached for the fridge and produced a small bowl of creamy dip, placing it on the counter beside the potatoes.
Bucky quirked a brow with evident curiosity.
“What?” she asked playfully. “These aren’t your Depression potatoes. They’ve got a little twist.”
He snorted softly, shaking his head. “A twist, huh?”
“Just a little sour cream, and the spices are courtesy of your kitchen,” she said, ladling the potatoes onto a serving dish with practiced ease. “Trust me, they’ll still taste like home. Just… a little fancier.”
Bucky glanced at the bowl again, his lips twitching in faint amusement. “Fancy potatoes,” he murmured, almost to himself.
“Hey,” she countered, setting the dish in the middle of the counter with a flourish. “Even tough guys like you deserve something nice now and then.”
He didn’t respond right away, but as he pulled out a stool at the counter and sat, there was a flicker of something lighter in his eyes. “Guess we’ll see if they live up to the hype.”
She handed him a fork, with a widening smile. “Challenge accepted.”
For the first time that evening, the atmosphere in the room felt less heavy. The clinking of utensils and the scent of roasted potatoes mingled with the faintest hum of unspoken understanding.
“Not bad,” Bucky admitted after his first bite, begrudging but carrying a hint of approval.
“Not bad?” she echoed, raising a brow. “I’ll take that as high praise.”
The corners of his mouth twitched upward, and for a fleeting moment, it almost looked like he might smile.
They made small talk while they ate, keeping the conversation light. She asked about the crime novels on his side table, and he asked -grudgingly- what kind of twist she had planned for the next meal, implying she might want to poison him. Despite himself, Bucky found the interaction strangely… normal. He wasn’t used to normal, but he didn’t hate it.
When they finished, he stood and began gathering the dishes. She protested at first, but he waved her off. “It’s what my Ma would have expected anyway,” he said matter-of-factly.
He’d just started scrubbing the first plate when her phone buzzed on the counter. She glanced at the screen, then at the clock, letting out a soft sigh. “Well, Buck, it seems our two hours are up.”
Bucky froze and his hand gripped the plate under the warm water. Then he nodded once. “I see…”
She leaned against the counter next to him, watching him carefully. “So, um… what do you want to do? Will you read the forms and consider starting this little journey together, or would you rather not see my face again?” She smiled softly. “Which I’d totally understand if that’s the case.”
He didn’t respond immediately, focusing instead on rinsing the plate and setting it on the drying rack. For a moment, the only sound was the rush of water and the faint hum of the fridge. It was as if he was battling with himself, his tension was visible in the way his shoulders hunched and his jaw clenched. Finally, he let out a long breath and turned to face her. His hand raked through his hair.
“I... I want this, I think,” he stated. Then, almost immediately, he added, “I can step out whenever I want, right?”
Her smile softened as she reached for his vibranium hand, her fingers resting lightly against the cool metal. “Yes, Bucky. You can step out whenever you want. No pressure, no expectations. This is for you, on your terms.”
He nodded slightly, his eyes flicking down to where her hand rested on his before shifting back to meet her gaze.
“Just take your time filling out the questionnaire, think the answers carefully” she continued, warmly but matter-of-fact. “and, whenever you’re ready, snap a picture and send it to me. No rush.”
“Okay,” he murmured, almost to himself.
“Also…” She tilted her head. “How many days a week do you want me here?”
Bucky blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. He shifted slightly, glancing away as if considering his answer. “Uh… two, I guess?”
“Two it is,” she said with a small nod, releasing his hand and grabbing her bag from the counter. “You’re calling the shots, Buck. You just let me know if that changes.”
He didn’t respond right away, but as she slung her bag over her shoulder and made her way toward the door, he called out in a low tone. “Thanks.”
She paused, glancing back at him with a smile. “Anytime.”
As the door closed behind her, Bucky stood there for a moment, staring at the now-empty space she’d left behind.
Almost three minutes after she left, his phone buzzed on the counter, the screen lighting up with a notification. He didn’t have to check to know who it was. Sure enough, the preview of the text confirmed it: Sam. The string of emojis accompanying the message made Bucky’s scowl deepen as he stared at the screen.
🤔💪👍👵🍲
“What the hell does that even mean?” he muttered to himself, swiping the phone off the counter and locking it without reading the full message. The last thing he needed was Sam’s smug commentaries right now.
He set the phone down a little harder than necessary and decided to distract himself the only way he knew how: by scrubbing himself clean. Grabbing a towel, he headed to the bathroom, peeling off his T-shirt on the way. The promise of a hot shower sounded like the closest thing to clarity he might find tonight.
But as the water beat down on his skin, his thoughts drifted back to the folder she’d left behind. The questionnaire seemed simple on the surface, but for a man like him, answering those kinds of questions wasn’t easy.
What comforts you?
The question alone made him bristle. Comfort wasn’t something he’d thought about in decades. Comfort was… a luxury, a distraction, a weakness. At least, that’s what they always told him and he still couldn’t shake that feeling.
The thought of filling out that damn paper felt heavier than any mission he’d been assigned. He’d rather face a bullet in his leg than sit down and figure out what he wanted.
He leaned his head against the shower tiles, the warmth of the water doing little to ease the tension coiling in his chest. Maybe he’d give himself a day. Or two. Hell, maybe a week. She’d said no rush, after all.
And if he didn’t send it? Well, it wasn’t like she’d show up uninvited. He could still back out.
He turned off the water with a sharp twist, the sudden silence leaving him alone with his thoughts. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stepped out, glancing toward the closed door of his bedroom where the folder waited.
----
It had taken Bucky two weeks to fill out the forms. Two long, painstaking weeks of sitting at his couch, pen in hand, staring at questions that felt more like traps than prompts. He’d forced himself to be thorough, thinking carefully about each subject.
What makes you feel safe?
What comforts you?
What do you need from me?
How do you want to be called as an endearment?
He’d tried to approach it with an open mind, though the process made him cringe more than once. Admitting what he needed -or even what he was willing to permit- felt like baring himself in a way that left him raw.
But he finished. He signed the papers, scanned them with his phone, and sent the file off with an unceremonious text:
Here. Let me know if it’s fine.
Her reply had been immediate and cheerful: Got it! Looks perfect. See you Tuesday.
----
When Tuesday came, she arrived at his building, juggling a tote bag filled with what she liked to call her “comfort supplies.” A neighbor leaving the building had held the door open for her, a kind but overly trusting gesture.
Not a very safe thing to do, she thought as she stepped inside. But I’m not going to complain.
She reached his door, knuckles rapping lightly against it. “Bucky? It’s me.”
No answer.
She frowned and knocked again, a little louder this time. “Bucky, you there?”
Still nothing.
She pulled out her phone and sent him a quick message: Hey, I’m here! A moment later, her phone buzzed with the dreaded notification: Message failed to deliver.
Her frown deepened. She tried calling, but the call went straight to voicemail. A sinking feeling settled in her chest as she pressed her ear to the door, listening intently.
Nothing. No footsteps. No muffled noises. Just silence.
She sighed, leaning back against the wall. Maybe something had come up. Maybe he’d changed his mind and didn’t know how to tell her.
She checked her watch. Twenty minutes had passed, and she still hadn’t heard a peep from him. With a reluctant shake of her head, she turned and walked toward the elevator, her footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet hallway.
-----
A couple of hours later, Bucky dragged his feet through the corridor. His nose throbbed painfully, a reminder of the last few days he’d spent dealing -again- with enhanced assholes who seemed to have gotten their hands on some variant of the serum.
The faint metallic scent of dried blood clung to him, mingling with the sweat and grime of too many hours spent in the open. His brows furrowed, eyes heavy-lidded as he scanned the hallway out of habit. That’s when he spotted it, a small bag made of cloth sitting neatly at his doorstep.
He paused, taking a moment to connect the dots through the haze of exhaustion.
Fuck.
He let out a slow, frustrated exhale, running a hand over his face and wincing as the dried cut on his cheek tugged painfully. Of course, this would happen. Of course, he’d mess this up right out of the gate.
Bending down, he picked up the bag, holding it gingerly in his hands like it might scold him. The fabric was soft and patterned with small flowers, something that felt almost absurdly out of place against his bloodstained hands and the concrete walls of the hallway.
He peeked inside, and his chest tightened. A handful of sugar babies’ packages into view, the bright yellow being a jarring contrast to the dull exhaustion weighing him down.
What were your favorite sweets as a child?
The questionnaire echoed in his head, and his stomach twisted. He hadn’t even realized he’d written those down until now.
Straightening up, he glanced down the hallway toward the elevator, tightening his grip on the bag. What kind of impression was this supposed to leave? Forgetting the session entirely, not answering the door, not even leaving a message…
He groaned, leaning back against his door and glaring down at the bag like it held all the answers to his failures.
After a long moment, he nested the bag into the crook of his arm, fumbled with his keys, and let himself into the apartment.
The silence inside was deafening. He placed the bag of candies on the counter and reached for his phone, dead as expected. He plugged it into the charger with a sigh, running a hand through his hair before peeling off his ruined clothes. The bloodstained shirt landed in a heap on the floor as he pulled his knives and gun from their holsters and set them down on the counter next to the flower-patterned bag.
The juxtaposition was almost laughable. The hard edges of his weapons, worn and familiar, sat starkly against the soft, cheerful fabric of the bag.
It didn’t feel right, to see them in the same space.
But he was too tired to care for the moment.
With a heavy sigh, Bucky leaned against the counter, lingering his gaze on the bag of candies. He reached inside and pulled out one of the packages, turning it over in his fingers like it was something fragile. For a moment, he just stood there, as the weight of the past days pressed down on him.
Finally, he tore the wrapper open, popped one caramel into his mouth, and let the sugary sweetness dissolve on his tongue. It wasn’t much. But somehow, it tasted like a small piece of something he’d forgotten he needed.
-----
It was late afternoon when her phone buzzed with a message. She picked it up from the table, brushing across the screen to read it.
Just one word: Sorry.
She stared at the message for a moment, tightening her grip on the device. Well, at least it didn’t seem like he’d changed his mind entirely. That was something.
Are you okay?
The reply didn’t come right away. The minutes stretched, and she found herself glancing at the screen every few moments. Finally, the phone buzzed again, and she read his response:
I don’t know.
Her chest ached at the honesty of those three words. Biting her lip, she typed her reply carefully.
Do you want me to come over?
The dots indicating he was typing blinked, disappeared, and then reappeared. His answer came back after what felt like an eternity.
You don’t have to.
She frowned, her thumbs flew across the keyboard.
That is not what I asked, Bucky.
Another pause. This one was longer. The late afternoon sun painted her walls in streaks of orange and gold, but she barely noticed, since her attention was fixed on the phone in her hands.
Finally, he replied.
Yes.
Her shoulders relaxed as she exhaled. Without hesitation, she grabbed her bag, slid her phone into her pocket, and headed for the door.
-----
Her gaze widened when she saw Bucky’s face as he opened the door. A nasty cut marred the already purpled skin of his cheek, his nose looked bruised, his lower lip was split, and scrapes littered his flesh arm. His expression and the slump of his shoulders only added to the picture of someone who’d been through a lot.
He must have noticed her stare because the first thing out of his mouth was, “You should see the other guys.”
She clicked her tongue in exasperation, her hand motioning firmly toward him. “Move. Let me in.”
Bucky stepped aside, his expression hovered somewhere between guilt and defiance. She entered without waiting for another invitation, her sharp eyes already scanning the room. “Did you clean the wounds?”
He shrugged nonchalantly as if it weren’t worth mentioning. “I took a shower…”
She pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a long, deliberate sigh. “That’s not… no. That doesn’t count. Where is your first aid kit?”
He looked at her like she’d grown another head. “Doll, all this is going away in three days, tops. Courtesy of the serum.”
Her gaze snapped to his, sharp enough to freeze hell over. “Where. Is. It. And how did you just call me?”
Bucky’s mouth opened, then shut, and he swallowed audibly. “M-ma,” he mumbled, his eyes darting to the floor like a chastised child.
“That’s what I thought.” She folded her arms, with a tone that brooked no argument. “I assume you have that thing in the bathroom.”
“I told you, it’s not neces-”
That look again. He stopped mid-sentence, his shoulders slumping as he relented. “Yes.”
“Good,” she said briskly, already heading toward the bathroom without waiting for further direction. “Stay put. I’ll handle this.”
Bucky stared after her, his mouth twitching as if he wanted to argue but thought better of it. With a quiet groan, he leaned against the counter, muttering under his breath, “You should really see the other guys…”
But even as he said it, he found himself oddly relieved that she was there.
“Sit on the chair so I can see you better”, her voice came calm but firm from his side as she gestured to the single chair against the wall.
Bucky hesitated for half a second before complying, dragging the chair forward slightly and lowering himself onto it.
She knelt slightly in front of him, brushing her fingers lightly over the bruised and battered skin of his face. “This surely must hurt,” she said softly. “You don’t have to act all rough with me.”
He didn’t answer, clenching his jaw ever so slightly. Not to brush off the pain, not to admit that it hurt. He just stayed silent, with his gaze fixed somewhere beyond her shoulder.
With gentle care, she dabbed at his cheek with a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic. The sharp, chemical smell hit the air immediately, and Bucky flinched, pressing his lips into a thin line.
She paused, knitting her brows in concern. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” he muttered, but the tightness in his voice betrayed him.
Her gaze stayed patient but unyielding. “Bucky.”
He exhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes flicking away from hers before returning. “I don’t like the smell,” he admitted, almost in a whisper.
She stilled, hovering her hand in midair. “Why?”
For a moment, he didn’t respond. His gaze grew distant, and his expression went clouded as if he were somewhere else entirely. When he finally spoke, his voice was even quieter, tinged with something raw and broken.
“Spent a lot of years smelling that shit,” he said, with words that carried too much weight. “Couldn’t drink a glass of water without a command. Couldn’t… do anything. And that smell… it was always there. Always.”
Her heart ached at the admission, but she didn’t let it show on her face. Instead, she lowered the cotton ball, letting him see her hands move it out of the way. “Okay,” she said softly. “We’ll rinse the cuts with water instead. No more of this stuff.”
He blinked, his brows furrowing slightly as he looked at her. “You don’t have to-”
“I know I don’t,” she interrupted gently. “But I’m here to help you, honey, not to make things harder.”
He swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded. He didn’t say anything else, but the tension in his shoulders eased just a little.
By the time she finished tending to his wounds, Bucky was leaning heavily against the chair, with drooping eyelids. The tension in his frame had loosened ever so slightly, his exhaustion was clear in the way he blinked sluggishly at the floor.
She stood and began gathering the supplies, placing them neatly back into his first aid kit. “I’m going to make you something to eat,” she said firmly, already planning a quick meal to get something nutritious in him.
“Not now,” he murmured, barely lifting his head.
She turned toward him with a frown. “Bucky, you’ve probably gone days without eating anything that isn’t complete garbage. You need-”
“I just…” His words came out with difficulty, like they were being dragged out of him. He rubbed his flesh hand over his face “I just want you close.” his voice was quieter now, almost pleading.
Her expression softened instantly. Nodding, she stepped closer, reaching for his vibranium hand. She wrapped her fingers around the cool metal and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Come on. Let’s sit on the couch.”
She guided him the short distance toward the living room and he followed with slow, dragging steps. Once they reached the couch, she looked at him with patience. “What do you need?”
Bucky hesitated and his throat worked as if he were trying to swallow his pride. His eyes flicked to her, then away again, his mouth opening and closing like he was fighting himself. Finally, he let out a soft, almost defeated sigh.
“I… I want to lean my head on your lap, Mama,” he admitted almost shakily.
She smiled softly, not saying anything that might make him feel more self-conscious. She just nodded and sat at one end of the couch, patting her thighs gently to indicate he should lie down.
Bucky followed, his movements stiff and hesitant as he eased himself onto the couch. He stretched out his long torso, his head tentatively resting on her lap. He stayed tense for a moment, as if bracing for something, though even he wasn’t sure what.
She started running her fingers through his short hair, brushing the strands back in slow, rhythmic motions. “It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re okay.”
The tension in his shoulders began to melt, and his breathing slowed as her fingers worked through his hair with careful, deliberate strokes. He closed his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh as his body finally surrendered to a comfort he hadn’t let himself feel in years.
-----
After two months of visits, she was surprised one day to find an old oak dining table in Bucky’s apartment. It was small but sturdy, with matching chairs tucked neatly under it. The single chair he’d once had was nowhere in sight.
She stepped closer, running her hand along the smooth wood. “This is lovely,” she said, her tone genuinely appreciative.
Bucky stood nearby, with his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight slightly. He glanced at her, then at the table, mumbling, “It was time for me to have one.”
She turned to him with a smile. “Well, it makes the place look more like a home now. You know,” she added thoughtfully, “I have a tablecloth about this size at home that I don’t use. I could bring it next time, if you’d like.”
Bucky hesitated, furrowing his brows slightly as if considering her offer. “About that…” he started, a little unsure.
She waited patiently, giving him time to express what he wanted to say.
“I want to start…” He paused, searching for the right words. “making this place more... like someone is living here.”
“Like a home?” she prompted gently.
“Y-yeah.” He looked down, scratching at the back of his neck. “Besides that hut in Wakanda… it’s been a lifetime since I had a place to… a… a home.”
Her heart ached at his admission, but she didn’t push. Instead, she stepped closer and gently rested her hand on his arm. “That sounds very hard, sweetheart.”
Bucky didn’t deny or confirm her statement, just gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
“I was wondering…” he began, his voice steadier now. “If next time, we could schedule an earlier time to see each other. And maybe…” He hesitated, glancing at her as if bracing for her reaction. “Maybe you could come with me to help me buy some things?”
Her smile widened, her hand giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “That sounds great, honey.” Then, she added warmly but firmly, “Just remember, this is your home. You have to choose what you think suits you.”
Her words were a reminder of the boundaries they’d set, of the balance they were working toward. Still, they carried enough warmth to let him know she’d be there for him.
After discussing the table and his plans to make the apartment feel more like a home, she glanced around the space and tilted her head thoughtfully. “You know,” she said lightly, “a good table deserves a little cleanup around it. How about we tidy up a bit?”
Bucky frowned, sweeping his gaze over the room. “It’s not that bad.”
She gave him a pointed look, walking toward a pile of mail and random odds and ends stacked on the counter. “It’s not terrible, but a little organizing wouldn’t hurt. Come on, help me out.”
He followed her reluctantly, muttering something under his breath about bossy moms.
She smirked but didn’t rise to the bait, handing him a small stack of papers. “Sort these, bills, junk, whatever doesn’t need to be here,” she instructed, already reaching for a rag to wipe down the counter.
As they worked, the task settled into an easy rhythm. She asked him about the books he’d been reading, and he surprised her by asking if she had any recommendations. It was small talk, but it felt comfortable and natural like it had been almost since the beginning.
After the living room and kitchen looked noticeably tidier, she wiped her hands on her jeans and glanced toward the hallway leading to his bedroom. Motioning toward the door, she said, “Alright, let’s check out the bedroom next.”
Bucky froze, tightening his shoulders visibly. “Bedroom’s fine,” he said quickly, the edge of reluctance in his voice was unmistakable.
She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “I’m already on a roll, Buck. Might as well see the whole place.”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he reluctantly trailed behind her. “It’s not much to look at,” he muttered, more resigned than defiant.
“Then it won’t take long,” she quipped, throwing him a reassuring smile before disappearing through the doorway. Her brows furrowed at the sight before her. The bed was buried under a haphazard pile of boxes, and scattered clothes dotted the floor. The mattress didn’t even have sheets on it, and the faint layer of dust on the headboard told her it hadn’t been used in a while.
She turned to him, crossing her arms. “What’s going on here? Where do these boxes go?”
Bucky shifted awkwardly in the doorway, avoiding her gaze. “They’re fine where they are.”
“Bucky…” Her voice softened, concern creeping into her tone. “Where are you sleeping?”
He clenched his jaw, and after a long pause, he mumbled, “On the floor. In the living room.”
Her eyes widened. “The floor?
He nodded, his gaze fixed somewhere over her shoulder.
She stepped closer, keeping her voice calm but firm. “Why?”
His lips pressed into a thin line before he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The bed’s too… soft.” He paused, struggling with the words. “It doesn’t feel safe,” he continued, with a low voice. “When I’m on the floor, I can feel the room. Hear things better. I… know what’s going on and can act in case something happens.” His gaze dropped to the pile of boxes on the bed. “And the bed… it’s just not right. Too soft, too confining. It feels like a trap.”
She nodded slowly, her expression a mix of understanding and quiet sadness. “That makes sense,” she said gently. “But, honey, that’s no way to live. I get why you feel that way, but you deserve to rest somewhere that doesn’t hurt your back.”
He gave her a faint shrug, the corner of his mouth pulling downward. “I’ve been doing this for a while. I’m used to it.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s good for you,” she replied, stepping closer and resting a hand lightly on his arm. “How about we start small? Let’s clear off the bed today. No pressure to use it yet, but maybe we can make it feel a little less… wrong. Less like a trap.”
He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes flicking back toward the cluttered bed. She could see the hesitation in his face, the way his fingers flexed at his sides like he was fighting an internal battle.
Finally, he nodded once, almost imperceptibly. “Alright.”
Her lips curved into a gentle smile. “Good. So, where do these boxes go?”
“Closet,” he muttered, stepping forward to help her.
Together, they cleared the bed, tucking the boxes away and folding the stray clothes. She didn’t push or prod, keeping the conversation light as they worked. She mentioned ideas for making the bed more comfortable, maybe firmer pillows or a thinner mattress topper to make it feel less suffocating.
By the time they were done, the room already looked less like a storage space and more like a place where someone could rest.
“There,” she said, dusting her hands off and turning to him. “A step in the right direction.”
Bucky stood at the edge of the bed, staring at it like it was something foreign. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I guess so.”
“You don’t have to use it right away,” she gently. “But when you’re ready, it’ll be here for you.”
He nodded again, loosening his shoulders slightly.
As they returned to the main area, she expected Bucky to suggest starting dinner, but instead, he cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Can we… sit for a bit? On the couch?”
“Of course,” she said with an easy smile, leading the way. She settled into her usual spot at one end, patting her thighs lightly.
Bucky sat and shifted, lying down until his head rested on her lap. When her fingers began threading gently through his hair, he let out a quiet exhale. They stayed like that for a while, the stillness of the apartment punctuated only by the soft rhythm of her fingers against his scalp and the occasional hum of traffic outside.
“Anything you want to talk about?” she asked softly, not wanting to break the moment but leaving the door open for him.
Bucky closed his eyes, his voice low and drowsy. “Not yet. Just this. This is… enough.”
After a while of lying on the couch, Bucky's body had grown heavier against her lap. His breathing became slower, and his voice was groggy when he finally spoke. “Hey… can we go shopping on Saturday instead of Friday?”
Her fingers stilled briefly in his hair before resuming their soothing rhythm. “Saturday?”
“Yeah…” He trailed off, blinking sluggishly up at the ceiling. “I’ve got some stuff to deal with on Friday. Nothing big. Just easier if it’s Saturday.”
She hummed thoughtfully, glancing down at him. “I can’t,” she said gently.
“Why not?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to meet her gaze.
“I have a date.”
The weight in the room shifted immediately and his body stiffened under her touch. “Like… with your other ‘son’?” he asked, the words tumbling out awkwardly before he could stop himself.
She blinked, then laughed softly. “No, Bucky. Like with a man. A real date.”
Her fingers resumed their lazy rhythm through his hair, but she could feel the way his shoulders tensed further, and his jaw clenched. He didn’t respond right away, pressing his lips into a thin line.
Sensing his unease, she chuckled. “Don’t worry. You won’t meet him, and you definitely won’t have to call him Dad.”
Bucky let out a faint huff, something caught between a snort and a sigh, but he didn’t relax. “Didn’t say I was worried,” he muttered, though his tone lacked conviction.
She smiled, brushing her fingers through his hair again with deliberate care. He closed his eyes again, letting her touch ground him as the weight of the day slowly ebbed away.
After a moment of silence, Bucky shifted slightly against her lap. His lips pressed together like he was trying to hold something back, but finally, the question slipped out. “Where… where did you meet this guy?”
Her fingers paused briefly in his hair before resuming their soothing rhythm. “At the bookstore,” she said lightly. “He comes in pretty often. We’ve had a few nice conversations over the past couple of months.”
Bucky frowned, his brows knitting together as he stared at the ceiling. “You’ve gone out with him before?”
She shook her head, smiling softly. “No, this will be the first time.”
He mulled that over, his gaze flickering with something unreadable before he glanced up at her. “So… what do you like about him?”
The question came out gruff, almost begrudging, but there was a flicker of genuine curiosity -or maybe hesitation- in his voice.
Her lips twitched with amusement as she considered the question. “Well,” she began, “he’s polite, for once. Always says hello and takes the time to ask how my day is going.”
Bucky huffed lightly, a soft sound of dismissal.
“And he’s thoughtful,” she continued. “One time, he brought me coffee because he noticed I was swamped with a shipment of books. Didn’t even stay to chat, just handed it to me and said he thought I might need it.”
“Sounds like a Boy Scout,” Bucky muttered, his tone laced with faint skepticism.
She chuckled softly, brushing her fingers lightly over his temple. “Maybe. But I like that he pays attention. He’s kind without expecting anything in return.”
Bucky stayed silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on some invisible point far away. Finally, he murmured, “So, you’re serious about him?”
She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “It’s just one date, Buck,” she said gently. “I’m not planning a wedding.” Her voice carried a reassuring warmth, softening the weight of his question. “I don’t even know if there’s anything there yet.”
“Yeah,” he said after a beat, his tone softer now, though the small frown on his face lingered. “Guess you’ll find out.”
“I guess I will,” she replied. After a pause, she added with a playful glint in her eyes, “But no matter what happens, it won’t change anything between us. You’re stuck with me, remember?”
Bucky’s lips twitched faintly, the ghost of a smile breaking through his lingering tension. “Yeah… I remember.”
Her fingers slid through his hair again with deliberate care, and the corners of his mouth relaxed, even if his eyes remained shadowed. Whatever the storm in his mind, her presence was enough to keep it at bay for now.
“Speaking of dates,” she said, lightly but curious, “you didn’t tell me how your date went with the woman from the grocery store. The one you told me about the last time we saw each other.”
Bucky shifted against her lap, suddenly looking a lot less relaxed. “I… kind of left in the middle of it,” he admitted, uncomfortable.
“Oh, you didn’t,” her eyebrows lifted in mock reproach as she tugged softly at his hair, as a playful reprimand.
He huffed, pressing his lips into a thin line. “She was… noisy,” he started, his voice tinged with frustration as he struggled to explain. “Talked too much, and it wasn’t even about anything interesting. Kept asking questions, but…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “She didn’t actually care about the answers. Just wanted to fill the silence.”
Her fingers paused briefly, then resumed their soothing rhythm through his hair. “That sounds exhausting,” she said softly, her tone full of understanding. “But that’s not the whole reason, is it?”
Bucky swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked away. “She was touchy,” he said finally. “Kept leaning in, grabbing my arm, laughing like… like it was supposed to make me feel good or something.”
“Did it?” she asked gently.
“No.” His response was firm, and his hands flexed at his sides as though the memory left him uneasy. “I wasn’t comfortable with her being so close. I don’t even think she noticed. Or cared.”
She sighed softly, her touch steady as she brushed her fingers through his hair again. “You’ll find someone who gets you. Someone who’ll respect your pace and what you need.”
His lips twitched faintly, like he wanted to smile but wasn’t quite sure how. “What if there’s not?” he muttered, his voice so quiet she almost didn’t catch it.
“There will be,” she reassured him. “You just have to be patient. And picky. Nothing wrong with that.”
For a moment, he was silent, the tension in his body softening just a little under her touch. Then, almost shyly, he murmured, “Thanks… Mama.”
She smiled warmly, leaning back into the couch as her hand continued to comb gently through his hair. “Anytime, honey.”
-----
Time had a way of slipping by, and before he knew it, Bucky found himself sitting across from another date. This one wasn’t noisy or overly touchy, and the small brewery they’d chosen wasn’t bad, either. He nursed a beer in one hand, his vibranium arm hidden beneath the sleeve of his Henley, as the woman across from him laughed at something he’d said, a low, cautious laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.
Her eyes drifted to his wrist, where the dark leather bracelet he always wore peeked out from his sleeve. “I like that,” she said, nodding toward it. “The bracelet. It’s nice.”
He glanced at it, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks. My mom gave it to me.”
Her expression faltered slightly, the smile on her lips growing a bit stiff. “Oh, that’s… sweet,” she said, tilting her head. “Do you, uh, live with your mom?”
Bucky furrowed his brows, looking at her like she’d just asked if the sky was purple. “No. Why?”
She shifted in her seat, her fingers toying with the edge of her glass. “Well, then you must be very… close to her. Are you the youngest son?”
“No.” His tone was sharper now, though he didn’t mean it to be. “Why?”
The woman hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around her drink. Finally, she gestured vaguely toward him, her voice dropping as though she were trying to be delicate. “Well… you’ve brought her up a lot. And, no offense, but it’s kind of… weird for a man your age. On a date, I mean.”
Bucky froze, his beer halfway to his lips. For a moment, he said nothing, his blue gaze narrowing slightly as he processed what she’d just said. Then, slowly, he set the bottle down, and his fingers tightened slightly around the glass. A familiar sense of unease churned in his chest, accompanied by the ache of frustration.
“Right,” he said finally with an even voice, though there was a subtle edge to it. “I guess that is weird.”
The woman shifted uncomfortably, her awkward smile faltering completely. “I didn’t mean-”
“No, it’s fine,” he interrupted, leaning back in his chair. His expression was blank, his tone cool, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “Thanks for pointing that out.”
For the rest of the date, the conversation limped along, each attempt at salvaging it falling flat. Bucky found himself withdrawing, offering short, polite responses but little else. The spark of curiosity or connection -if there had ever been one- had fizzled out entirely.
When the check came, he paid for their drinks, refusing her offer to split it with a quiet but firm “Don’t worry about it.”
As they stepped outside, he offered a polite goodbye, but his tone was distant, and he didn’t wait for her to respond before walking off into the night.
He didn’t bring her up that much, did he? The thought came gruffly as he trudged up the stairs to his apartment, but deep down, he already knew the answer. Should’ve just stayed home.
His gaze fell to the leather bracelet again, and he sighed, slowing his footsteps.
‘Mom’ wouldn’t have made me feel like that.
He shook his head as he entered, the faint metallic clink of keys landing in the small ceramic bowl echoed through the quiet space. His lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze lingered on it. The damn bowl she picked because I couldn’t decide. He let out a low, frustrated growl, kicking off his boots near the door and running a hand through his hair.
His nose wrinkled as a faint scent clung to him, cigarettes, from his date. She must have smoked earlier, and now it lingered in his jacket, his shirt, even his hair. His brows furrowed. He didn’t like it. The realization was sharp, irritating, and only added to his foul mood as he stripped off his clothes while walking toward the bathroom.
The shower hissed to life, steam filling the room as he stepped under the hot spray, letting the water cascade over his shoulders. He rested his palms against the tile wall, hanging his head forward, dampening his hair.
The date replayed in his head in vivid detail: her awkward comments, the tight smile when she’d tried to backpedal, the judgment laced in her words. Weird for a man your age. He gritted his teeth, his knuckles whitening against the slick tiles.
She wasn’t wrong, he did bring up Mama more than he realized. But was that a crime? She was one of the few constants in his life that didn’t feel… hollow.
The thought only made the pit in his stomach grow heavier. The way she’d looked at him like he was some awkward, broken man who couldn’t function properly… it stung.
Before he knew it, his thoughts wandered to her instead. Not the woman from the date, but the one helping him put his life back together piece by piece. The one who’d picked out that damn bowl. The one who had sat on his couch, combing her fingers through his hair when he’d been too exhausted to speak.
His breathing hitched slightly as he remembered her touch, soft and unhurried, calming him in a way no one else ever had. He could almost feel the ghost of her fingers brushing through his hair, skimming over his temple with a care he didn’t deserve.
His hand slid down his chest, trailing over the wet planes of his torso, and he exhaled shakily, furrowing his brow. He shouldn’t be thinking about her like this. It was wrong -so wrong- but his body didn’t seem to care.
His grip tightened on himself, and his head thunked lightly against the tile as a groan slipped past his lips. The hot water beat against his back, but it couldn’t drown out the traitorous images flooding his mind. Her smile, the warmth of her voice, the way she’d called him “honey” like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his strokes becoming sharper, more desperate as if he could exorcise the feelings clawing their way to the surface. He shouldn’t be doing this, he admonished himself again. Not with Mama. Not the one person who made him feel safe.
And yet, the warmth of her imagined touch, the thought of her fingers tracing the scars on his skin or resting lightly against his jaw, was enough to push him over the edge. His release came with a choked groan, and his forehead pressed harder against the tile as his body shuddered.
For a moment, the only sound was the steady rhythm of the water and his ragged breathing.
And then the guilt hit him.
His hands clenched into fists, as his chest tightened. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” he whispered harshly, his voice cracking under the weight of his self-reproach.
He braced himself against the wall, shaking his head slightly. He felt disgusting, his stomach twisted as shame crept in his mind. She trusted him -cared for him- and this was how he repaid that?
With a low, bitter laugh, he reached for the soap, scrubbing furiously at his skin as if he could wash away the evidence of what he’d just done. But no amount of scrubbing could cleanse the storm of emotions raging inside him.
It was wrong. He was wrong. And yet, deep down, a part of him couldn’t stop wanting.
Goddammit.
-----
When Sam hinted that week about needing him for a little thing in Kuala Lumpur, Bucky didn’t hesitate. It didn’t seem like something Wilson could handle solo, and besides, a mission was the perfect way to blow off some steam. Anything to quiet the thoughts that had been clawing at the back of his mind since the date -and especially- since that shower.
He sent a quick text to Mama, keeping it short and simple, their usual code for missions.
Taking a vacation this week. Won’t make Friday.
Her reply came quickly: Take care of yourself. Don’t engage in crazy fun.
Bucky huffed softly, shaking his head as he stared at the screen. Ok, Mom, he typed back, his lips twitching faintly despite himself.
Her response came almost immediately: I mean it, Jamie.
Fuck. His jaw tightened, and he locked the phone without answering. She always had a way of cutting through him, even with a couple of words. He shoved the phone into his pocket and headed to pack, grumbling under his breath.
When Sam picked him up a day later, Bucky was already in mission mode: focused, stoic, and bracing himself for whatever chaos Wilson was about to drag him into. But despite his best efforts to push her words aside, they echoed faintly in his mind.
Take care of yourself.
He’d try. For her.
-----
Things went slightly fine the first day, if you ignored the shooting, falling from a 15-story building into a trash container, and the broken shower in the safehouse. Bucky stood shirtless in front of the cracked bathroom mirror, grimacing as he splashed cold water over his chest and shoulders. The sink barely worked, sputtering like it might give up entirely, and the dingy tiles on the walls didn’t do much to make him feel clean.
“Man, this place is a dump,” Sam said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
“Better than the street,” Bucky grunted, grabbing a threadbare towel to dry off.
Sam hummed noncommittally, watching as Bucky fumbled with the faucet. “So, how’s it going with her?”
Bucky froze briefly before answering. “Things are good.”
“Glad you finally listened to me.” Sam’s voice carried just a hint of smugness. “I mean, you’re still a pain in the ass, but at least your mood’s improved a lot these past months.”
Bucky rolled his eyes, tossing the towel over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. You want me to thank you or something?”
“Nah,” Sam replied, grinning. “But I’ll take it as a win anyway.”
Bucky muttered something unintelligible under his breath and pushed past him, heading to the small, creaky bed in the corner of the cramped space.
That night, like most nights, sleep evaded him. He lay on his back, staring at the water-stained ceiling of the safehouse, while his mind spun with too many thoughts. Missions were supposed to clear his head, burn off the restlessness that kept him awake. But tonight, even exhaustion didn’t help.
With a frustrated sigh, he sat up and grabbed the disposable phone Sam had handed him earlier. He knew it was a bad idea, knew he should just put it away and try to rest, but his fingers moved on their own, pulling up her profile.
Her social media was usually quiet: cozy book displays from her job, pictures of the plants she was trying to keep alive, and the occasional funny meme. It was soothing, like a peek into a normal life that he could never fully touch.
But tonight, it wasn’t soothing.
His stomach dropped as he stared at the most recent photo, uploaded just a few hours ago. It was a close-up of two hands holding Sharpies, coloring a detailed mandala. One of the hands was hers, he recognized the delicate curve of her fingers, and the faint scar near her thumb. The other one was clearly male, broader and rougher.
The tags hit him like a punch to the gut:
#SoProudOfYou #AlmostAllByYourself
Bucky stared at the screen, and his chest tightened as the meaning sank in his brain.
Her other son.
It had to be him, the other veteran she worked with, the one she’d mentioned months ago. The one responsible for her being “unsure” about taking him in when Sam first approached her.
For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the floor. He could still picture the hands, the caption, the pride in her words. And it twisted in his chest, an uncomfortable, raw feeling he couldn’t shake.
He rubbed his hand over his face, groaning softly. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
It shouldn’t matter. She wasn’t his. She’d never been his, not in that way. He told himself that over and over, but the ache in his chest didn’t care. The idea of her giving someone else that same care, that same warmth, felt like a betrayal, even though he had no right to feel that way.
With a frustrated growl, Bucky tossed the phone onto the nightstand and dropped his head into his hands. For all the chaos of the mission, for all the bullets and explosions and pain, nothing had hit him harder than that damn photo.
And he hated himself for how much it hurt.
-----
The mission wrapped up in a flurry of controlled chaos. The intel had been secured, the enhanced assholes neutralized, and while Sam emerged with only a few scratches, Bucky sported a fresh bruise on his jaw and a deep gash on his forearm, not that he cared.
The flight back was quiet, the hum of the jet’s engines filling the cabin as Bucky sat slumped in one of the seats, staring a blank point in front of him. His vibranium fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest, the only outward sign of the storm brewing in his head.
Across the aisle, Sam noticed. He always noticed.
At first, he let it be, figuring Bucky’s mood would even out once they hit the ground. But as the hours dragged on, and the Winter Sulker stayed silent, Sam couldn’t help himself.
“You’re quiet,” Sam said, leaning back in his seat.
Bucky didn’t respond, his gaze kept fixed on the clouds outside.
Sam tried again, his tone a little sharper this time. “You gonna sit there brooding the whole way, or are you gonna tell me what’s eating you?”
Still, nothing.
Sam let out a sigh, shaking his head. “Alright, fine. But let me guess: You’re pissed off because someone scratched your arm? Or wait, maybe you’re mad because someone didn’t say ‘thank you sir’ after you saved their life?”
Bucky’s fingers stilled on the armrest, tightening his jaw.
That was all the opening Sam needed. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, man, I’m not blind. You’ve been sulking since day one of this mission. You want to talk about it, or do I have to guess some more?”
Bucky’s head snapped toward him, his eyes narrowing. “Just drop it, Wilson.”
“See, now you’ve got me curious,” Sam said, grinning in a way that only made Bucky’s irritation spike. “What’s got the great James Buchanan Barnes in such a mood? Did Mama scold you over text?”
That did it. Bucky shot out of his seat, towering over Sam with a scowl. “I said drop it!” he barked, his voice echoed in the small cabin.
Sam didn’t flinch, didn’t move. He just stared up at Bucky. “So it is about her.”
Bucky froze, clenching his fists at his sides.
“Man, you’ve been walking around like someone kicked your dog,” Sam continued, with a softer tone. “And I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, you’ve got to get it out before it eats you alive.”
Bucky exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before sitting back down with a heavy thud. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and muttered, “It’s nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Sam pointed out.
“It’s fine,” Bucky snapped tiredly.
Sam watched him for a moment before sighing and leaning back. “Alright. Keep it to yourself if you want. But I’m telling you now, whatever’s got you in this mood, you better work it out before it gets worse.
Bucky didn’t answer, turning his gaze back to the blank point. The rest of the flight passed in tense silence, as the weight of Sam’s words pressed down on him more than he wanted to admit.
----
He entered his apartment, dragging his feet like every step took more effort than it should. The mission had taken more out of him than he cared to admit, though it wasn’t the physical strain, it was the weight in his chest that seemed to grow heavier every time he returned to this quiet, empty space.
He grabbed his dead phone from the counter and plugged into the charger, barely glancing at the notifications, and made his way to the bed. The mattress was thin, and the pillows hard, as she’d suggested. “A good way to transition from the floor,” she’d said, and damned if she hadn’t been right. He’d hated it at first, but now… now it felt like his.
He dropped onto it without bothering to change, his eyes closing almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He was so tired. So fucking tired.
That night, the nightmares came back.
And the next night.
And the next.
-----
Several days later, she was pacing her living room, phone in hand, staring at the screen with her thumb hovering over the keyboard. Whatever Bucky was into, it must have been over by now. She was sure of it, or at least, she hoped so. The radio silence was starting to worry her.
He wasn’t one to check in often -God knew that- but after all these months, she’d learned his rhythms. This wasn’t like him, not entirely. Not answering her, staying quiet this long? That wasn’t just distance. That was something else.
Finally, she typed a quick, casual message:
Still at the resort, hun?
His reply came faster than she’d expected, but it was curt.
No.
Her brows furrowed. Oh, okay, she thought, frowning at the screen. Something felt off. She typed again.
Everything alright? Did you have more fun than intended?
The dots in the chat appeared, blinked, and then disappeared.
Okay, she thought, waiting. Then they blinked again. And disappeared.
Bucky, are you hurt? she finally wrote with concern.
This time, the message was read almost instantly, but no reply came.
She sighed, deepening her frown. She knew this pattern all too well. When Bucky didn’t answer, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to, it was because he didn’t know how.
“Alright, Buck,” she muttered to herself, grabbing her bag. “Time for a visit.”
This wasn’t the first time she’d done this, dropping everything to pull him out of whatever dark place he’d retreated to. He’d let her in, little by little, trusting her with parts of himself no one else saw. She’d told herself it was about helping him, being there for him in the way he needed.
But it was more than that.
The truth, the one she kept swallowing down, was that her care for him didn’t fit neatly into the boundaries of their arrangement. It wasn’t maternal, not entirely. It was something more, something deeper. She shoved the thought aside, tightening her grip on her bag. Principles, she reminded herself firmly. Getting involved with him like that would be wrong. He deserved better.
But she couldn’t stop herself from caring.
She grabbed the key off the hook by her door and headed out. Not answering the door wasn’t going to be an option this time.
Not for her.
As expected, her knocks were met with silence. She sighed with resignation and slipped the key into the lock.
The door creaked open, and she wrinkled her nose as the stale, charged air of the apartment hit her. It wasn’t the worst she’d seen it, but it was far from the neat, semi-organized space they’d worked on together. Her gaze swept the room, taking in the scattered clothes on the floor and a small pile of takeout containers on the counter.
At least he’s been eating, she thought, a small relief in the face of the mess.
The faint sound of water running led her to the source: the bathroom. The shower.
She turned her focus back to the living room, her lips pressing into a line as she slid the window open to let in some fresh air. The cool breeze offered a small reprieve from the heaviness of the space.
Spotting a roll of garbage bags near the counter, she grabbed one and started tidying up. The crumpled clothes went into a hamper, the empty takeout boxes into the bag. She wiped at the counter absently, and her mind drifted to the last time he’d gone radio silent like this.
Whatever this is, we’ll get through it, she told herself.
She was so focused on her task, that she didn’t notice when the sound of the shower stopped, or when Bucky emerged from the hallway.
He stood there, quiet and guarded, with a towel slung low around his hips. Droplets of water clung to his skin, rolling down the faint scars on his flesh arm and chest. His stare was intense and unreadable as he watched her move around his apartment as if she belonged there.
“What are you doing here?”
His voice startled her, low and edged with exhaustion. She turned sharply, the garbage bag crinkling in her hands as her eyes met his.
“Oh,” she said, recovering quickly. Her gaze flicked briefly over him before landing firmly on his face. “I knocked. You didn’t answer.” She gestured toward the bag in her hands. “Figured I’d help you out a little.”
Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I didn’t ask you to.”
“No,” she replied evenly, setting the bag down and crossing her arms. “But I wasn’t about to leave you stewing in here like this.”
His jaw worked as he shifted his weight. “I’m fine.”
She raised an skeptical eyebrow. “Yeah? Because this,” she gestured to the room, “doesn’t exactly scream ‘fine,’ Buck.”
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. “I didn’t ask for a lecture.”
“Good,” she shot back, her tone soft but firm. “Because I’m not giving you one. I’m here because I care about you, and you clearly need someone right now. Whether you want to admit it or not.”
For a moment, he just stared at her, and his guarded expression wavered slightly. Then, with a tired sigh, he stepped further into the room, slumping his shoulders. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“Maybe not,” she admitted with a soft gaze. “But I’m here now. So let me help.”
He didn’t respond, but the fight seemed to drain out of him. His shoulders loosened, and he dropped into a chair near the counter, fixing his gaze somewhere on the floor.
She picked up the garbage bag again, resuming her quiet cleanup. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to coax him out of his own head, and she suspected it wouldn’t be the last. But as she moved around the room, she noticed the faintest crack in his armor, proof that he was letting her in, even if he didn’t have the words to say it yet.
“So… what’s going on?” she asked, as she picked up a wrinkled pair of boxers from one of the chairs.
Bucky’s gaze flicked to the offending garment, then back to her face. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his damp hair. He was tired, tired of pretending, tired of holding back.
“I’m… jealous.” he admitted reluctantly.
She paused, her fingers tightened around the fabric before dropping it into the laundry pile. “Jealous?” she echoed, her brows furrowing. “Of who?”
His jaw tensed, and his gaze darted away before he muttered, “I saw it. The Sharpies picture.”
Her lips parted slightly in understanding. “Oh,” she said softly. “And?”
“And…” He sighed again, the frustration etched into every line of his face. “You never did that with me.”
“Coloring?” she asked, tilting her head. “I didn’t think you’d be into it, babe.”
“Not coloring,” he said sharply, running a hand through his damp hair again. Then his voice softened, but his words carried a heavy weight. “The… the picture.”
Oh.
“Well,” she started gently, “you’re not exactly a fan of social media. And you always grump when I try to take one of us.”
“It’s not that,” he said, shaking his head. His blue eyes finally met hers, raw and vulnerable in a way that made her chest tighten. “It’s… I forget sometimes that I’m not your only son.”
Oh.
He leaned back in the chair, running his hand over his face as if to hide the emotions flickering across it. “I don’t like the idea of sharing you,” he admitted, in a low, almost bitter tone.
She swallowed hard. “Well, it happens all the time,” she said cautiously, trying to keep her tone light. “Brothers usually don’t like-”
“He’s not my brother,” Bucky interrupted firmly, snapping his gaze to hers.
The air in the room shifted. His next words came softer, but they hit like a thunderclap.
“And you… you’re not my ma.”
The room seemed to still, the only sound the faint hum of the fridge in the background.
She stared at him, her pulse thrumming in her ears. “Bucky…”
“I hate it,” he said, dropping his hands to his lap as he looked at her with a mix of anger and desperation. “I hate that I look forward to seeing you more than I’ve looked forward to anything in years. I hate that I can’t stand the thought of anyone else getting what I get. And I hate that I don’t know what the hell to do about it.”
Her heart felt like it was being squeezed as she searched for the right words. “Bucky,” she said softly, leaning toward him, “this… this doesn’t have to be something you hate.”
“I know,” he said, his voice was raw and strained. “But I can’t manage my feelings toward you.”
Her breath caught, and her heart twisted painfully as she absorbed the weight of his confession. She leaned back slightly, clenching her hands together in her lap and sighed.
“Bucky,” she started softly, “this bond we’ve built… it’s compromised. It’s not what it’s supposed to be anymore. It wouldn’t be ethical for me to continue mothering you.”
His head snapped up, his blue eyes went wide and glassy with panic. The look on his face made her chest ache. He looked utterly wrecked, his lips parted as if to argue, but no words came at first.
“No,” he finally stammered, his voice shaky and uneven. “No, please. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I’ll stop. I’ll never bring it up again, I swear.” His breath hitched, and he shook his head as if trying to find the right words. “Just… don’t leave me, Mama.”
He reached for her hand, firmly but also trembling. His vibranium fingers brushed against her wrist, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the warmth of his touch. “I need you,” he said, his voice breaking.
Her heart shattered at the sheer desperation in his voice, in the way his thumb nervously rubbed over the back of her hand like he was afraid she might disappear if he let go.
With her free hand, she reached up and cupped his stubbled cheek, softly brushing her thumb over a scar near his jawline. His breath hitched again, and his eyes fluttered shut momentarily, as though her touch was calming him.
“This ordeal isn’t right, sweetheart,” she murmured. “It’s not fair to you. Or to me.”
“But-” His hand tightened around hers, his body leaned closer to her as though proximity alone could keep her from slipping away. “I’ll do better. I’ll keep it together. Just… please, don’t go. Don’t give up on me.”
“Bucky,” she whispered, tracing soothing circles on his cheek. “It’s not about giving up on you. It’s about what’s right. What’s healthy.”
“I don’t care about right,” he choked out, his voice trembling. “I just… I can’t lose you too.”
Her hand trembled slightly where it rested against his cheek, but she steadied herself with a deep breath.
“Bucky,” she began softly, tentative but growing steadier as she continued, “I also have feelings for you. I’ve been having them for a while now.”
His breath hitched, his wide eyes searching hers desperately, but before he could speak, she pushed forward.
“I was never going to act on it,” she said firmly. “Because it would mean taking advantage of you.”
His brows furrowed deeply, and he shook his head, rising his voice with frustration and disbelief. “I’m a grown man. You can’t take advantage of me.”
“You know that’s not true,” she countered gently but unyieldingly.“You trust me, Bucky. You let me in, more than anyone else. And that’s why we can’t do this dynamic anymore.”
Her words hit him like a physical blow. His grip on her hand tightened, and his shoulders hunched as his head dipped forward slightly. For a moment, he was silent, breathing heavily as he tried to process her words.
“No,” he murmured, shaking his head, his voice broke as he looked back up at her with unshed tears brightening his eyes. “No… Ma… you can’t just-”
“Bucky,” she said softly, cutting him off with a tenderness that nearly undid him. Her fingers brushed his cheek again, tracing soothing circles as her heart ached at the devastation written across his face. “The contract we made, the boundaries we agreed on, it doesn’t fit us anymore. I can’t keep pretending to be something I’m not.”
His breath hitched, the knot in his throat tightened as he struggled to find words. “But you’re not-” he started, voice trembling.
She shook her head gently, stopping him again. “I’m not your mom, Bucky. You said it yourself.” Her voice wavered just enough to betray the conflict she felt.
His lips parted, but no sound came as he searched her face, desperate for something -anything-that might keep her close.
“That being said…” she murmured after a beat, her thumb still brushing gently against his cheek. Her eyes softened as they searched for his. “We can try… dating. To see how and where this might go, because that’s something completely different.”
His mind blanked for a moment, as her words hit him. Dating?
The word echoed in his head, feeling too big and too small all at once. He blinked, his mouth opening slightly as he struggled to process what she’d just said. His mouth parted slightly, but no words came out, his breath caught somewhere between confusion and longing.
Dating… her?
His heart twisted, caught in the crossfire of disbelief and a yearning he’d buried for so long it felt foreign. She wasn’t pulling back. She wasn’t brushing this off or deflecting like he’d feared. Instead, she was offering something he hadn’t dared to hope for.
Does she mean it?
For so long, he’d kept his feelings locked away, hidden in the shadows of his mind where they couldn’t hurt him -or anyone else-. But now, here she was, standing in front of him, dragging those feelings into the light with words that felt both terrifying and exhilarating.
“…What?” he finally managed, the word slipping out before he could stop it. His voice was rough, strained, tangled somewhere between confusion and desperation.
Her expression didn’t falter, but there was a faint glimmer of vulnerability in her eyes, just enough to make his chest ache. “Dating, Bucky,” she repeated. “Not as your mom. Not as anyone else. Just… as us.”
Us.
His throat tightened, and his hands flexed against hers. The knot in his chest twisted painfully, caught between fear and something that felt dangerously close to relief.
Could there even be an us?
“Bucky, you’re doing the staring thing,” she said softly, her voice tinged with amusement, though her eyes remained serious as if willing him to believe her.
The corner of his mouth twitched, a faint huff of air escaped his nose as he ducked his head slightly. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I thought it was just me. You’re… sure about me?
Her thumb brushed gently along his jaw, and a small, reassuring smile tugged at her lips. “I wouldn’t be here saying this if I wasn’t sure, Buck.”
He glanced at her lips, the desire to close the space between them was almost overwhelming, but he hesitated. “You’re not… scared?”
“Of you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “Never.” Her smile grew just a bit, as she added, “You’re not as intimidating as you think, you know.”
That earned a faint chuckle, though it was weighed down by the uncertainty still lingering in his chest. “I just… I’m not exactly easy, you know,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m complicated. Messed up.”
She shook her head, squeezing his hand gently. “Bucky, all these months I’ve been coming here to be with you, you’ve opened up to me in ways I don’t think you’ve done with anyone else. You’ve trusted me with parts of yourself that I know aren’t easy to share.”
Her voice softened, her thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. “I know what I’m dealing with. And I can promise you, you’re not a mess. Not to me.”
His chest tightened at her words. He exhaled slowly, his blue eyes flicking between hers as if searching for any trace of doubt but all he saw was warmth. “Then,” he began, his tone was low but went higher as he steadied himself. “Let’s-let’s go. On a date.”
Her lips twitched, and she glanced down briefly, with a playful glint dancing in her eyes. “Well, to go right now, you should probably put some clothes on first, don’t you think?”
For a moment, he blinked, caught off guard by the shift, until her words sank in. His gaze darted down to the towel wrapped loosely around his hips, and the faintest flush crept up his neck.
“I didn’t mean right now, Ma-” He caught himself, his jaw tightened as he quickly corrected, “Doll.” The word came out gruff, almost embarrassed, as he scratched the back of his neck, his eyes flicking away for a second.
Her brow arched at the slip, but she didn’t comment, though the faint smile tugging at her lips didn’t go unnoticed.
Bucky shifted slightly, rolling his shoulders, and for once, the knowledge that she wanted this too -wanted him- settled something inside him. The usual discomfort of being caught off guard wasn’t there. Instead, he felt a spark of confidence, small but growing.
She leaned back in her chair, deciding to give him the space to take the lead. Considering his old-fashioned upbringing, it felt right to let him set the tone, not just to give him control, but to help him feel steady.
“So,” she said lightly, playful but encouraging, “pick a place and a time, and we’ll see.”
He nodded slowly, flexing his fingers against his knee before leaning back slightly in his seat. The movement shifted the towel around his hips just enough to make her painfully aware of the fact that he was still half-naked.
Her eyes traced the line of his shoulders, and the slight curve of his jaw as he glanced down in thought. Then her wandering gaze dipped against her better judgment, tracing the line of his chest, the faint curve of muscle at his stomach, and the scars she’d never quite let herself linger on before.
When her eyes flicked back up to his face, his sharp blue gaze was already on her, a flicker of amusement sparking in his expression. His lips twitched into a faint smirk, “Okay,” he said, more confident now. “I’ll… figure it out.”
Her cheeks warmed faintly, and she quickly forced a smile, hoping it would cover her flustering. “Take your time, Bucky. Just not too long.”
He tipped his head slightly, and his smirk deepened with an easy confidence in his posture that was now unmistakable. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
----
True to his word, her phone buzzed with a message a couple of days later.
Dinner? Friday at 7. That place you mentioned once, Marcellino’s.
She blinked at the screen, parting her lips in surprise. Marcellino’s? The Italian place she’d mentioned months ago, almost offhandedly, as a “bucket list” spot she’d love to visit someday? How had he even remembered?
Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard before she typed back.
Seriously? I’ve been dying to go there. How’d you manage reservations so fast?
On the other side of town, Bucky stared at her message, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he reclined on his couch. It had been a pain finding a reservation on such short notice; apparently, Marcellino’s had been booked solid for weeks. But hacking into their system had been child’s play, a few keystrokes, some backdoor access, and voilà: table for two, Friday at 7.
She would never know, of course.
He typed back simply.
I’ve got my ways.
Her reply came quickly, punctuated with a laughing emoji.
Mysterious, huh? Alright, Bucky. I’ll see you on Friday.
Bucky exhaled slowly, setting his phone down and leaning back against the couch. A small, quiet sense of satisfaction settled in his chest. It wasn’t just the date, it was the effort, the planning, and the decision to put himself out there in a way he hadn’t in decades.
Friday couldn’t come fast enough.
----
When the cab pulled up to the curb, she spotted him immediately. He was standing just outside the restaurant, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark suit pants. His posture was relaxed, but his gaze was distracted, fixed on something across the street.
She rarely saw him out of his usual Henleys and jeans, but God help her, he cleaned up well. The suit was perfectly tailored, the dark fabric accentuating his broad shoulders and tapering at his waist. His hair, usually left to its own devices, was slicked back neatly, the sharp lines of his jawline even more striking under the glow of the streetlights.
For a second, she forgot how to breathe.
Bucky, oblivious to her arrival, shifted his weight slightly, his vibranium fingers flexing in his pocket as his flesh hand adjusted his tie. She smiled to herself, taking the opportunity to appreciate him while his guard was down. He was so effortlessly striking, yet she knew he’d put thought into it. He really wanted this to go right.
Finally, she stepped out of the cab, and her heels clicked softly against the pavement. “Hey, handsome,” she called out.
Bucky’s head snapped toward her, his distracted expression melting into something softer. His lips parted slightly, raking his gaze over her from head to toe. “Wow,” he murmured, low and rough. “You look…” He trailed off, his mouth twitching like he couldn’t find the right word.
“Good?” she offered with a smirk, stepping closer.
“Better than good,” he corrected, “Way better.”
Her cheeks warmed under his gaze, but she managed to keep her tone casual. “You’re not looking so bad yourself, Buck. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you do this sort of thing all the time.”
He huffed a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck, though the faint pink dusting his ears didn’t go unnoticed. “Guess I clean up okay.”
“Okay?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Try amazing.”
He ducked his head slightly, a rare but genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks,” he muttered, holding out his arm. “You ready?”
She looped her hand through his, letting him lead her toward the entrance. As they stepped inside, she couldn’t help but think this was already shaping up to be the best first date she’d ever had.
The table was in a prime spot near a window overlooking the city lights. Bucky pulled out her chair smoothly, motioning for her to sit confidently, making her heart flutter.
He settled across her with fluid movements. Despite the nerves buzzing in his chest, they were the good kind of nerves, normal ones. The kind that came with wanting to impress someone without feeling like he had to prove his worth.
He already knew her.
That made everything easier. There was no need to rack his brain for icebreakers, no awkward pauses to fill, no second-guessing every little thing he said. Instead, he could focus entirely on her: the soft curve of her smile, the way her eyes sparkled in the candlelight, the way she twisted her hands together on the table when she thought he wasn’t looking.
And, maybe, on seducing her. Not aggressively, but in the easy, intentional way he remembered from a lifetime ago. A brush of his fingers here, a lingering glance there, the kind of thing that built tension without needing words.
If he was rusty, it didn’t show.
She, on the other hand, was a wreck.
Her posture was perfect, her smile warm, but underneath the table, her knees bounced faintly, betraying the swirl of emotions coursing through her. This was -and wasn’t- her Bucky.
The man sitting across from her wasn’t the grumpy, guarded man she’d coaxed out of his shell with patience and care. This Bucky was confident, deliberate. The way his piercing gaze lingered just a second too long, the faint smirk tugging at his lips when he caught her fidgeting, he wasn’t shy about letting her know she had his full attention.
And it was overwhelming. Not in a bad way -it was thrilling- but it left her feeling completely off balance.
She wasn’t in charge anymore.
The realization sent a wave of warmth through her body, leaving her acutely aware of every little detail: the way he leaned forward slightly when she spoke, the way his hand rested on the table, close enough to brush hers if she dared to reach out.
God help her, she thought faintly, swallowing hard. If this was Bucky now, she couldn’t imagine what Sergeant Barnes of the 1940s must have been like. A menace, no doubt. A walking, talking heartbreaker wrapped in charm and good manners.
Her eyes flicked up to meet his again, and he gave her a slow, knowing smile, one that sent her pulse skittering.
She tightened her grip on the edge of her napkin, trying to will herself to relax. This was Bucky. And yet, sitting across from him like this, with the weight of his attention focused entirely on her, it felt like seeing him for the first time all over again.
When the food arrived, Bucky’s face was a masterclass of self-control. His expression remained completely neutral as the waiter arranged the plates with what could only be described as an air of reverence. He nodded politely when the man finished, even offering a quiet “thank you,” though inside he was already questioning his life choices.
Once the waiter walked away, he let his eyes shift to her, raising a brow to see if she was thinking the same thing he was.
Her lips twitched, struggling to suppress a laugh as she glanced down at her plate. The elegant presentation might have fooled someone else, but all she could see was what appeared to be a tiny portion of gnocchi, barely enough to feed a toddler.
Bucky’s plate wasn’t much better: three perfectly arranged sorrentinos, sitting proudly in the center of an artfully swirled sauce. It was the most stylish and inviting minimalist plate he’d ever seen.
He glanced back up at her, his lips twitching as her shoulders shook with silent laughter.
“This…” she started, covering her mouth with her hand to muffle a giggle, “…this is it?”
Bucky huffed, leaning back in his chair as he gave his plate a long, scrutinizing look. “Guess we’re supposed to savor it,” he said dryly.
She bit her lip, trying and failing to stifle another laugh. “It seems they’re encouraging portion control.”
He scowled. “Didn’t know I’d be eating an appetizer disguised as dinner, goddammit.”
“I’m… I’m sorry! I didn’t know… they have such great feedback!” she groaned still chuckling.
“It’s my fault,” he muttered, spearing one of the sorrentinos with his fork and eyeing it as if it had personally insulted him. “For not checking the place out better.”
He couldn’t believe he’d hacked their system for this. He’d spent nearly an hour working around firewalls and reservations, all to secure a table at this supposedly renowned spot. It hadn’t even occurred to him to scout the menu or check the portion sizes.
This wouldn’t have happened to the old me, he thought bitterly, chewing slowly on his second overpriced sorrentino. His jaw tightened as the familiar ache of inadequacy crept into his chest.
She must have noticed the subtle shift in his expression because, without a word, she reached across the table and rested her hand over his.
“Bucky,” she said softly, her voice laced with gentle authority. “Don’t you dare take a ride on the self-deprecation train.”
His eyes flicked up to meet hers with surprise, before relaxing his features.
“This,” she continued, squeezing his hand lightly, “is just an anecdote. Something to laugh about later, hm? It doesn’t mean anything except that we picked a fancy place with tiny portions. That’s it.”
For a moment, he just stared at her, flexing his fingers slightly under hers. Then, reluctantly, his lips twitched into a faint smirk. “An anecdote, huh?”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling now, her thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. “Something to tell people one day, how you bravely faced off against a plate of minimalist pasta. Now finish your last bite so we can leave and find something less fancy but more substantial,” she stated with amusement.
Bucky poked at the last piece of pasta with his fork, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Even the breadbasket was sad,” he grumbled, as he signaled for the waiter to bring the bill.
The waiter approached, and with a politely confused expression, he noted their early departure. “Would you like to see the dessert menu, perhaps?” he offered, his tone gracious but hoping to redeem the situation.
“No, thank you,” Bucky replied smoothly, his voice polite but final. He slid his card across the table before she could even think about reaching for her wallet.
“Bucky-” she started, but he cut her off with a quick shake of his head.
“Don’t even try,” he said firmly but light enough to soften the refusal.
She huffed but didn’t argue further, leaning back in her chair as he settled the bill. Once it was taken care of, Bucky stood and offered her his hand, helping her up with ease.
As they made their way toward the exit, he placed a gentle hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the door he opened for her.
“Such a gentleman,” she teased, as she stepped outside into the cool night air.
“Only for you, doll” he murmured, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk as he shifted slightly to shield her from a passing breeze.
She stepped beside him, automatically taking the inner spot on the sidewalk as he steered her toward it and slipped her hand easily onto his offered arm
“So,” he said after a moment, “Any ideas where we’re finding this substantial food? Or am I winging it?”
She laughed softly, squeezing his arm. “Let’s see what’s nearby. Maybe we’ll find a place with a breadbasket that doesn’t make you sad.”
“That’s a low bar,” he muttered, earning another laugh that made his chest feel lighter than it had all night.
They ended up at a small, no-frills pizza place, tucked into the corner of a quiet street. The neon sign in the window flickered faintly, and the smell of melted cheese and fresh dough hit them the moment they stepped inside.
Sliding onto the high bar stools at a tiny plastic table, they both seemed keenly aware of how out of place they looked. Her dress shimmered faintly under the fluorescent lights, and his perfectly tailored suit drew more than a few curious glances from the other patrons, who were clad in hoodies and jeans.
Bucky sat a little stiffly at first, as he glanced around. The contrast between this place and the upscale restaurant they’d just left wasn’t lost on him, but the casual atmosphere somehow felt more... right. Still, the attention made him uneasy, and he shifted slightly, brushing his vibranium hand on the edge of the table.
But then he looked at her.
She had a slice in her hand, the cheese stretching almost comically as she took a bite. Her shoulders relaxed as she chewed, and then she closed her eyes, and a soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips.
Bucky’s brows lifted slightly, locking his gaze on her as a faint flush crept up his neck. He watched her savor the bite, her fingers tapping lightly on the table to emphasize her approval.
In that moment, every awkward glance from the other patrons, every thought about his appearance or how ridiculous they looked, melted away.
All he could think about was her.
“Good?” he asked, unable to stop staring.
She opened her eyes, blinking like she’d momentarily forgotten where she was. “So good,” she said, curling her lips into a satisfied smile. “I needed this.”
“Glad I could deliver,” he teased, taking a bite of his slice after winking at her.
She shook her head with a small laugh, wiping her fingers on a napkin. “You know… I don’t get it. How did all your last dates go so bad, Bucky?”
He paused mid-bite, chewing slower as the thought crossed his mind. Maybe because I couldn’t stop bringing up my ‘mom’ in conversations like some kind of creep.
“Because they weren’t you.”
The answer came easily, effortlessly, but the way her eyes widened told him she hadn’t expected it.
Her lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the raw sincerity in his voice. For once, she was the one scrambling for words, the usual balance between them tipping in a way that made her pulse quicken. “Bucky…”
He held her gaze. “I mean it.”
She blinked, the teasing light in her eyes dimming as something warmer and softer, replaced it. Slowly, her lips curved into a small, almost shy smile, fiddling her fingers with the edge of her napkin as she tried to gather herself.
“Well,” she murmured playfully, “I guess they didn’t stand a chance, huh?”
“Not even close,” he agreed, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned back slightly on the barstool. The suit jacket he wore pulled just enough to highlight the sharp lines of his shoulders, and for a brief moment, she found herself really looking at him. The paper napkin in his hand felt absurdly out of place against the polished, confident image he presented, but somehow, it only made him more endearing.
She reached for another slice of pizza as if that would help her steady herself. She didn’t say anything, couldn’t, because what could she possibly say to that? Instead, she glanced down quickly, busying herself with her plate and hoping he didn’t notice the sudden warmth in her cheeks.
When her eyes flicked back up, he was still watching her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. It wasn’t teasing or overconfident, just… him.
As they finished their meal, the buzz of the restaurant began to fade into the background, leaving just the two of them in their little corner of the world. Bucky leaned back, draining the last of his drink before standing and adjusting his jacket. He offered her his hand, his vibranium fingers catching the soft light. “Come on,” he said in an inviting voice.
“Where?” she asked, slipping her hand into his.
“Just… a walk,” he replied, almost tentative “Unless you’re in a hurry to call it a night.”
“Not at all.” She promptly answered as she rose to meet him.
They wandered down the sidewalk unhurriedly as the night wrapped around them. The streetlights cast long shadows, and their conversation flowed easily, punctuated by the occasional laugh or lingering glance. For a while, neither seemed to notice the passing of time. But then a cool breeze rolled in, and he felt her shiver slightly beside him.
He stopped, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Alright,” he murmured reluctantly, “I’m calling you a cab.”
She blinked, furrowing her brow . “What? Why?”
“You’re cold,” he said simply, his tone firm despite the regret in his eyes.
“I’m fine,” she argued, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her words.
“Doll,” he said, shaking his head with a faint smile, “you’re shivering. I’m not letting you walk around all night freezing.”
Her lips curved into a teasing smirk. “You could just lend me your jacket, you know. Like they do in the movies. Then I’d nuzzle into it because it smells like you, the usual cliché.”
He quirked an eyebrow, and his smirk widened into something distinctly playful. “You know, if you want to smell me, you can do it whenever you want.”
Her mouth fell open slightly, her cheeks burning as her witty comeback disappeared from her brain.
He chuckled, clearly pleased with her reaction, but his expression softened as he continued. “You’re shivering,” he repeated. “I’m not about to let you freeze out here.”
She folded her arms, attempting to regain her composure. “I’m really fine.”
“Trust me,” he said, pulling out his phone, “if I gave you my jacket, I’d have to carry you home. You’d drown in it.”
She let out a small huff, quirking her lips into a reluctant smile. “Fine,” she relented. “But only because I don’t want you giving me that sad, guilty look all night.”
“Guilty?” he repeated, quirking an eyebrow as he tapped at his screen.
“Yeah,” she teased, nudging him lightly. “Like you’re already blaming yourself for the weather.”
He chuckled, shaking his head as he finished ordering the cab. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
-----
As they waited, he guided her toward the side of the building, resting his hand instinctively on her lower back as he steered her out of the breeze.
“Thanks for tonight, Bucky,” she said softly, leaning slightly into him, guided by the warmth of his hand.
Bucky froze for half a second, as the closeness of her body sent his heart into overdrive. She tilted her head to look up at him, and she smiled, not quite shy but not entirely bold either.
For a moment, he struggled. His old-fashioned nature tugged at him, warning him to hold back, to wait. He wasn’t sure how these things worked anymore, not when it came to her. Did he ask? Did he wait for her to make the first move?
But then her gaze dipped just for a second, to his lips.
Slowly, carefully, he leaned down, giving her time to pull away.
She didn’t, parting her lips ever so slightly, and it was all the reassurance he needed.
Their lips met, and the world seemed to still. The kiss was soft, tentative, but filled with all the emotions he hadn’t known how to put into words. His vibranium hand slid gently up her upper back, steadying her, while his flesh fingers brushed the curve of her jaw.
She leaned into him, resting her hands lightly on the lapels of his suit jacket and the kiss deepened, just enough to send a pleasant warmth humming through them both before they slowly pulled back.
Her eyes fluttered open, and a small smile played at her lips as she whispered, “Took you long enough.”
He huffed out a low laugh as his hand lingered at her back. “Guess I’m a little rusty.”
“Not bad for rusty,” she teased, curling her fingers slightly against his jacket.
He sighed as he raked a hand through his hair. “You’re good for me, you know that?”
Her smile widened, and she nudged him gently. “I try.”
He bit his lip, glancing down briefly before meeting her gaze again. “Even without trying, these past months, they’ve been…” He paused, the words catching in his throat as he searched for the right way to say it.
“Good… in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. Because of you.” He managed to finish the best he could.
Her heart swelled at the raw honesty of his voice. She leaned closer, brushing her hand lightly against his chest. “You’ve done a lot of that yourself, you know,” she said softly. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”
“Maybe,” he said, his lips twitching into a faint, almost shy smile. “But you were there. That made all the difference.”
She smiled, her thumb brushing over the lapel of his jacket. “Well, lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good,” he murmured, “Because I’m not letting you.”
They just stood there, the hum of the city fading into the background. The night was cool, but the warmth between them was enough to keep the chill at bay. Finally, he tilted his head. “Ready to go?”
“No,” she pouted softly, looping her arm through his with a playful glint in her eyes.
Bucky hesitated for a fraction of a second, dipping his gaze to her lips again before he acted on impulse. His hand slid around her waist, gently pulling her closer as he leaned in.
This kiss was different, more sure, deliberate. His lips pressed against hers with a tenderness that made her knees feel weak, and she melted into him without hesitation.
When he finally pulled back, he let his lips brush against her cheek, trailing softly upward until they rested near her temple.
“Don’t make it difficult, Ma,” he teased lowly against her skin.
She let out a soft, breathy laugh, as she leaned into him. “Not my fault you’re irresistible, sweetheart.”
His lips curved into a small, lopsided smile against her temple before he sighed softly, resting his hand lightly on her lower back. With an easy motion, he guided her toward the waiting cab at the curb.
When they reached it, he opened the door for her without a word. She stepped in, pausing briefly to glance back at him. Her lips were still curved, and her warm smile made his chest ache in the best way.
“Goodnight, Bucky,” she said softly.
“Goodnight,” he murmured, a little rough around the edges. His gaze lingered on her, flexing his fingers slightly as if reluctant to let go of the door. Finally, he shut it gently, stepping back as the cab pulled away.
For a long moment, he stood there with his hands tucked into his pockets, watching as the car merged into the traffic and disappeared into the city lights. Finally, he turned slowly heading home, the faintest trace of a smile still tugging at his lips. For once, the night didn’t weigh so heavily on him, as he carried the lingering warmth of her smile and the memory of her kiss.
I imagine you and Henry in a BDSM relationship. Henry being the dom, and you the sub, of course. He would be protective over you. Hell, he would.
I imagine one day you and him cleaning the garage in the end of the year, before holidays. You'd be with the hose, flooding the beginning of the floor while Henry scrubbed with a mop near you. I imagine him being to close to you now. You were both with your backs turned to each other. Suddenly, he unconsiously hits you with the handle of the mop. Noticing, he imediately apologizes to you.
"Bear, it's fine."
"Let me see it." He says.
"I'm truly okay, let's just finish it."
He didn´t budge, staring severely at you. "Are you giving me an attitude?" He raised his brow.
You sighed. How could he be so rough with you sometimes and then, out of nowhere, think that a touch of the handle of the mop will break you.
"Come here." he said, taking your hand and leeding you to the kitchen.
"Now, let me see." You lift your shirt until it exposed your ribs, on your left side. There was nothing. Of course thre was nothing, he just touched you.
He smoothed the skin and gave a kiss on top. Then, he kissed your forehead. "Let me get you some pain cream for ya"
"But it didn't hurt. It's not necessary"
Another look towards you that sand shivers through your back.
I imagine you and Henry in a BDSM relationship. Henry being the dom, and you the sub, of course. He would be protective over you. Hell, he would.
I imagine one day you and him cleaning the garage in the end of the year, before holidays. You'd be with the hose, flooding the beginning of the floor while Henry scrubbed with a mop near you. I imagine him being to close to you now. You were both with your backs turned to each other. Suddenly, he unconsiously hits you with the handle of the mop. Noticing, he imediately apologizes to you.
"Bear, it's fine."
"Let me see it." He says.
"I'm truly okay, let's just finish it."
He didn´t budge, staring severely at you. "Are you giving me an attitude?" He raised his brow.
You sighed. How could he be so rough with you sometimes and then, out of nowhere, think that a touch of the handle of the mop will break you.
"Come here." he said, taking your hand and leeding you to the kitchen.
"Now, let me see." You lift your shirt until it exposed your ribs, on your left side. There was nothing. Of course thre was nothing, he just touched you.
He smoothed the skin and gave a kiss on top. Then, he kissed your forehead. "Let me get you some pain cream for ya"
"But it didn't hurt. It's not necessary"
Another look towards you that sand shivers through your back.
Summary: It’s your birthday. Normally you don’t celebrate it much, but this year you wanted to throw a party just because. Inviting your best friend August, while knowing that he and your husband Sy hated each other, should have prepared you for the mess. Well unfortunately it didn’t…
Paring: Syverson x Fem. Reader, August Walker x Fem. Reader
Warnings: MDNI, 18+, crying, cursing, blood, fistfight, screaming, angsty, OC fem. best friend Melinda, oh god loads of crying and hurt, buuut fluffy ending I promise! oral sex (fem. receiving), threesome, p in v, praising, pet names
Word count: 4.8K
A/N: This can be read before ‘Sausage’ (link at the end). Sorry for the long wait… I really hope those asking for more ‘background’, will like this and it is what you had in mind?
As always all mistakes are my own. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. Thank you and enjoy!❤️✨
! Neither August nor Syverson are my creation!
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So far your birthday party was exactly as you wished. A lot of friendly faces celebrating your existence, chatting, dancing, drinking and having fun while being at your place- your newly bought house to be exact.
Only minor inconvenience your sulking husband sitting on the couch, while burning holes in the back of August’s head.
You were in the middle of opening Melinda’s present, as she had insisted you open hers’ first, when you spotted Sy looking all sullen and annoyed. So you quickly thanked Melinda for her thoughtful gift, before you went over to where your husband sat, plopping down beside him.
The movement caused him to look away from your best friend, his glare immediately turned into a sheepish smile when he glanced at you, knowing very well he had be caught.
“You were doing it again,” you chided him.
He sighed, while pulling you against his side, “Well yeah, it’s just, ya know… he just-“
You looked at him sternly, “He’s just what? August is over there enjoying his drink and the company of Maria… while you are what? Sulking on the couch during my birthday party and staring daggers at him?!”
At the end of your accusation you had raised your voice, the frustration had gotten the better of you. For years now Sy had hated August and vice versa. Which wasn’t something you appreciated, especially because they were the two men on the planet meaning the most to you. And every time they were at each other’s throats, it tore at your heart. Just this once you had hoped they would get along, at least for you, on your birthday.
Sy winced at your tone but tried to explain anyway, “He’s doin’ it out of spite, just to rile me up.”
Getting angrier still, you shoved Sy’s shoulder so he’d let go of his half hug and you could look him square in the face, “What exactly is he doing?! He hasn’t even talked to me, apart from the brief ‘hello’ at the beginning!”
His eyebrows pulled together, the first sign of his own frustration, seeping into his expression, “Ya have to understand, he’s doin’ that to prove he ain’t interested in ya. He’s just pretendin’ to want Maria, so you’d think I’m paranoid or somethin’. Don’t ya see?!”
Incredulously you shook your head at him, while he pulled at his beard in irritation. As you stood up, you pinned him with your withering glare, “I will not hear another word about this matter-“
He shot up, interrupting you, “But-“
You cut him off with a hand held up, hissing, “No. No but’s. Not. Tonight.”
Then you whirled around without another look at your husband. Heading for the staircase leading up to a bathroom and two bedrooms, as you needed a breather and some privacy to calm you down.
When you reached the bedroom to the right, you quickly entered and pulled the door shut behind you, signing loudly into the darkness of the room. Your heart constricted painfully inside your chest, as you slid down, with your back pressed to the wooden door. Knees pulled close, you rested your head against them, tying to keep the tears at bay. You just wanted them to get along. You loved them both dearly. And while yes, Sy was right about August, he didn’t understand that you would never do anything to hurt him.
You had known your best friend wanted to be something more with you, even before you had met Sy. But August had never acted upon it, flirt with you? – Oh yes. Go out with you? – Hell no. You had waited and waited for years but he had never made his move. Not once asking you who you fancied. Even though the answer would have been in his favour. And then you had met Sy at a frat party.
Slowly but surely he had weaved his way into your heart, the part that was holding out for August getting smaller and smaller. And yet, never disappeared completely.
Though you hadn’t married Sy as a second or subpar choice. You’d never do something like that. No. You had married him because you truly loved him.
But your stupid heart loved August an equal amount.
You knew it wasn’t ideal, far from it. But you also knew you couldn’t have both men, even though you loved them both.
Every time they argued, angrily yelling, making their hatred known, it tore at the hole in your heart. Fearing someday there would be nothing left of the tortured, beating muscle inside your chest.
As you sat there on the floor, thinking about the two men, the tears suddenly started rolling down your cheeks on their own accord, not being able to hold them back any longer.
No matter how often you wiped them away, new tears would well up in your eyes, like an endless ocean of despair trying to leave your body. Before you knew it, you were full on sobbing. That’s why you didn’t hear the commotion at first.
When you tried to breathe in, you flinched at the scream coming from downstairs.
“NO! NO! STOP IT!!”
At once you had flung the door open, running to the staircase. And the scene below, made your heart stop for a second.
August and Sy were swinging at each other. Sy’s fist had apparently already hit it’s mark, as August’s nose was bleeding profoundly.
Melinda had been the one to scream, as she and others looked on in fear, not wanting to actually, physically intervene, too afraid to get in the middle of the two burly men.
August’s fist collided with you husband’s face next, making you take in a sharp breath, freezing, standing on the middle of the stairs. Sy shoved him away, angrily growling, “You BASTARD STAY AWAY FROM US!”
Just as angry August spat back, “NEVER!!”
Before they could lung at each other again, you stormed down the last few steps, not thinking much as you jumped in between them.
Holding out your hands, shrieking, “STOP IT! RIGHT NOW!”
You didn’t know who, it had happened to fast, but someone or both of them had shoved you so hard to the side, you stumbled back and crashed into the couch table with a deafening crack, as the glass split beneath. Luckily the impact made you fall to the side, only lightly hitting your head on the couch, while a few shards cut into your skin.
Melinda was at your side before you could even get your bearings, “Oh my god, oh my god! Are you alright?”
She quickly helped you up, mindful of the glass shards surrounding you. Once you were standing, you noticed the eerie silence. Someone had finally turned off the music. Still reeling you stared blankly at the floor.
Your body ached tremendously, head pounding and blood rushing through your system at a neck breaking speed, when an unnatural cold voice cut into the silence, “Party is over. Everybody go. Now!” Only after the shuffling of feet, did you realize, it had been your own voice commanding everybody to leave. Your gaze lifted, though just slightly until you took in your trembling hands.
Without looking up, you knew nearly everyone had left, except Melinda, Sy and August.
August tried clearing his throat, about to say something, but one sharp look from you was enough to make the words die, right before he could form them.
His normally mirth filled eyes, conveyed nothing but regret as did the now teary Blues of your husband. This had been the last strike, you’ve had enough. If they were behaving like children, you were going to treat them like ones.
As calmly as you could, you began, “I’m going to stay at Melinda’s-“one brief glace at her face told you, she was on board with that, then you continued, -“until you two have talked. And only after you have resolved everything, will I return. Understood?”
Both nodded, knowing better to say anything else.
“Good. And clean up the mess you caused.”
Without further ado, you grabbed Melinda’s hand and left the house.
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After three days Sy had called your cell, wanting to know how you were doing, though you had been curt and had only asked, “Have you talked yet?”
“No. But bun, please-“
You had hung up immediately. Not wanting to hear him out.
The next day August had called with the same query and result.
“Darling, please-“
You had never been this angry with them, not necessarily because they had hurt you physically in the process, but because they had let it escalate to that level.
The following days you felt hollow and beside yourself. Like a ghost watching on, from the side lines, because all the hurt was simply too much to experience right now and all at once.
Then on the sixth day the door bell had rung and Melinda came to the guest room, an envelope clutched in her hands.
“Before you say no. I think, you should at least read it. Please?” The plea in her voice was palpable, as she continued, “It’s from them. And believe me as much as I want to hit ‘em myself, I’ve never seen them look so broken. And I can no longer stand to watch you, looking just as broken, okay? So please, just read it. That’s all I’m asking.”
Reluctantly you held out your hand and she carefully placed the envelope in your hands, before slowly backing out of the room, leaving you alone to read it.
You opened it, and started reading.
* Dear Bunny/Darling,
we’ve tried to clear the air between us. Truly. But we’ve reached an impasse.
Not because we are at each other’s throats again, that’s not it. But we all know there is something between you and August, it’s undeniable. He knows what he feels for you, as do I.
But where it gets hazy is your feelings. I hope you still love me, even though I’ve been acting like a ‘fucking prick’ (his words not mine, though I have to agree with him), though we don’t dare to hope, or guess, how you feel about August. Or how you want to proceed?
So please for the love of god, come home. I WE need you.
We are so sorry for hurting and tormenting you.
You deserve better, we are willing to try and be better, for you, with you. WE are willing to try… just please come home. PLEASE!
Yours,
August & Sy *
WE are willing to try… What did they mean by that exactly?
Only one way to find out.
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Opening the door to your own home, knowing what lay ahead wasn’t going to be easy, made the nerves inside you fizzle wildly. Heart beating erratically, when you shakily called out while entering, “I’m home!”
Once you’ve reached the living room, you locked eyes with Sy. He looked nearly relived before his facial muscles tightened all over again. He sat at the dinner table next to August who looked like he hadn’t slept in days and on further inspection, Sy’s eyes seemed just as tired.
August voice was quiet and unsure, “Please…um, sit?”
He gestured to the chair opposite them and you promptly sat down. Eyes flitting back and forth between them.
Sy’s normal rough rumble merely reduced to a weak whisper, “Are ya alright, bun?”
That was the final blow, the way these strong men looked as broken as you felt, made all the hurt of the past years tear at your heart. Desperately your hands clawed at your shirt, as if trying to rip the excruciatingly aching muscle from your chest, loud near panicked sobs leaving your quivering lips.
Nearly incoherently you cried, “I-I’m so-sorry… I don’t… want ‘o lo-se you. Ne-need bo-th o’ you…”
Warm strong arms suddenly surrounded you, lifting you up from your chair. Whoever it was holding you close, you clung to him desperately, not wanting to be let go. Then another body hugged you from behind, whispering soothing words, “Sh-Sh everythin’ is gonna be okay. We’ve got ya. We’ve got ya.”
“Not going anywhere. Promise.”
You didn’t know when they had moved you to the couch, but once you had calmed enough to take in your surroundings again, you noticed that you were sitting on Sy’s lap with August’s warm palm slowly stroking up and down your back.
Sniffling still, you tried apologising again, but as if he had read your mind August shook his head, “No, no need to apologise. At all. Not you, darling, we were the once acting atrocious. And we need to apologise.”
“N-o, I mean yes you were, but I also want to apologise. I’m so sorry.”
Sy weakly smiled down at you, “Love, what are ya even sorry for?”
You couldn’t meet his eyes, you couldn’t even say it out loud, instead opting for, “Everything.”
When his thumb and forefinger lifted your chin, he still wore the smile but big, fat tears rolled over his cheeks and into his beard.
“Ya love him, don’t ya?”
Nearly inaudible you breathed back, “Yes, I love him.”
Sy’s hand left your face and one glance at August’s tear-filled eyes, made you move. You jumped from your husband’s lap, though needing something to ground you, you took both their hands as you stood before them.
“No. Wait, this is not how I wanted this to go. Let me explain, I-“
Sy interrupted you, trying to pull his hand back, “No, need to explain, lo-ve.” On the last word his voice broke completely, as if saying it hurt him physically.
You didn’t let him pull away though, instead you clutched his hand even tighter, bringing the back of it to your lips, and pressing a kiss against his skin.
The overwhelm of all the different emotions bubbling to the surface, made your knees wobble, so before you could lose your footing once and for all, you kneeled down, facing them.
Tears were streaming down your own face, throat constricted, making it excitingly hard to say what you had practiced so carefully before coming here. But you needed to tell them exactly what you felt for them, so you closed your eyes and started to talk.
“I love both of you. Equally,” you stressed the last word to get your point across and then continued, “I want and need both of you. My heart can’t take it anymore. Neither one of you understands, but I NEED you BOTH. I can’t and didn’t choose one over the other, I’ve always loved you August. But Sy isn’t a second choice, he and you are my ONLY choice. Please, I-…I can’t live without one or the other.”
You opened your eyes again, once you finished. Sy’s and August’s gaze rested upon you, they shared a look, before they suddenly pulled you up by your hands and made you stumble against their chests. Nearly crushing you within their hug. Though their words, were even more impactful.
Sy rumbled, “Never lettin’ ya go, bun. Love ya too much for that.”
And then came the words you wanted and needed to hear most, “We both love you. We want to try darling. If you’ll have us both, we want a throuple.”
Sy felt the need to clarify, “A three-person-relationship. You, Walker and me. What do ya say, bun?”
Shuffling back on their thighs to actually see their faces, you beamed up at them, overcome with such pure happiness, you couldn’t contain your joy as you nodded vehemently, “Yes. Yes please, a thousand times yes!!”
Then you pulled both of them back into the hug, beginning to attack them with dozens of kisses, pressing your lips against every patch of skin you could reach. The rumbling laughter from the depth of their chests never sounded better.
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After you had talked about everything for another hour or three, all the while you’d still sat astride their thighs, you came up with a wicked idea to celebrate your newly formed throuple.
“You know everything aside, you still kinda ruined my birthday party.”
Awkwardly clearing his throat, Sy apologised heartedly, “I-We are really sorry, love. What we did was unforgivable.”
August’s eyes zoned in and he noticed, you hadn’t meant to accuse them, not truly, because your face wasn’t sad or angry. No, actually you looked amused, so he dared to venture, “Mmh, not so sure about that. There is something we can do, to make you forgive us, isn’t there darling?”
You smirked wickedly at them, “Oh well, yes I thought about a way you could make it up to me.”
Sy had now caught onto your playful demeanour, and mirth sparkled in his eyes as he asked, “Tell us bun, how can we make it up to ya?”
Very slowly you slid from their thighs and stood up, beckoning them with your finger to follow you. When they stood as well you giggled and ran as fast as you could upstairs and into your bedroom.
Both apparently just as eager as you, appeared in the doorframe, the second you had sat down on the bed.
“Well what are you waiting for?” Patting the mattress beside you invitingly, got your point across just fine, because they immediately made their way over and came to a halt, towering over you. Feigning innocence you blinked up at them while pulling your shirt over your head and throwing it behind you.
August’s sharp intake of breath made Sy chuckle darkly, “Look at ‘im hasn’t seen much yet and already breathless. That’s how gorgeous ya look bun.”
Sy shrugged out of his own shirt, before he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, humming into your mouth as his tongue fought with yours passionately. Once he pulled away, he joined you on the bed, thick thighs caging you in on both sides from behind.
August had not only gotten rid of his shirt, he now stood in front of you in only his boxers, cock straining against the fabric deliciously. You reached out to touch his chest, teasingly trailing your fingertips down until you let them ghost over his impressive bulge and he groaned above you.
Sy’s fingers nimbly opened the hooks of your bra, cupping your tits in his giant hands while expertly pinching your erect nipples until you mewled.
“Argh fuck darling, you sound so sweet. Bet you taste as good as you sound?”
August’s eyes briefly flickered up to Sy’s face, asking for permission, but your husband had other plans. He nearly threw you onto the bed, which made you land on your back with a surprised shriek.
“What are yo-“
“Don’t ya worry your pretty little head bun.” Then he addressed August, “Gonna eat that drippin’ pussy and then you can get your dick wet. How does that sound, Walker?” He glanced at you, and you nodded enthusiastically, when August growled hungrily, “Sounds perfect.”
Sy opened your trousers, unceresmonly pulling them and your soaked panties right off your legs. As his sapphires landed between your legs it was his turn to growl lowly. At the animalistic noise, your hole clenched on its own volition, which didn’t escape their notice with their laser focused eyes pinned on your centre.
August stepped closer to the bed for a better view, when Sy lowered himself on his stomach, pulling your thighs apart to fit his broad shoulders between them. The first breath against your dripping cunt, had you bowing your back already.
“Such a messy girl and so responsive for us.”
You could only moan in response, because Sy had chosen that moment to swipe his fat tongue between your folds, gently nibbling on your clit. When he hummed in agreement to August’s statement, your thighs tried to close at the intense feeling, but your husband had already placed his hands on your legs to prevent your movement. Tutting he chided, “Ah, ah, bun. Your gonna take what we give ya, no movin’ away.”
You mewled again, as he suddenly began eating you out like a man starved, beard scratching the sensitive skin of your thighs, tongue dipping into your hole repeatedly, grunting at the delicious taste. Sy’s hips bucked against the mattress, desperately whishing he could fill you up already. Though he knew this time would be different, the low grunting to his right a reminder.
In your bliss you had closed your eyes, “Bun, open ‘em. Look at ‘im, puttin’ on a show for ya.” At that your eyes flew open, and true to his words, August indeed was a picture to behold. Fixing you with his heated stare, as his hand had slipped into his boxers, rubbing up and down his length. Only the tip visible every time his fist moved upwards.
You sighed, as Sy resumed the devouring of your cunt, “Mmmh, he’s…he’s big…”
August pupils were blown out, when he finally showed you his cock, stepping out of his boxers. While he wasn’t as girthy as Sy he was a bit longer than him. That had you biting your lip, as you imaged how he’d probably hit the very end of your pulsing pussy. Moaning loudly when your husband added a finger to the mix, beginning to stretch you, “Well better open ya up then, bunny. Lest ya can’t take ‘im completely.”
The noise that left you at that, sounded rather needy and high pitched, fingers clawing at the sheets. Sy added another finger, as you were more than ready, juices running down your thighs and into his beard. When he spread them, scissoring you open, he felt your pussy quivering around them. “Yeah, just like that sweet girl, come on my fingers.”
He buried them to the knuckles, pressing and circling your clit, until you keened loudly and came with a cry, clamping down on his thick fingers.
“Atta girl, just like that.”
Sy’s voice sounded strained and rougher than before. He slowly sat back on his knees, removing his glistening fingers. August cursed at the sight and then the unspeakable happened. Your husband roughly gripped August’s wrist, nearly making him fall over, before he shoved his fingers into his mouth.
You gaped at them. August seemed just as surprised as you, “Thought ya wanted a taste, Walker?”
That snapped him back out of his puzzlement, wickedly smirking at Sy as he began sucking on his fingers. You could have sworn your husband’s eyes grew a shade darker at the sensual display.
Only when August deemed the fingers thoroughly cleaned, did he pop off with a lewd sound, licking his lips for good measure. Still looking as Sy, he whispered, “Even sweeter than I imagined.”
You whimpered, warmth pooling between your legs, making you even slicker than before. That moved the attention back to you, making you feel like helpless prey about to be devoured by the lions, hungrily liking their maws.
“Up.” At Sy’s command you stared at him bewildered a moment too long, because a huge paw landed on your thigh. Pain delightfully blooming on your skin, as he repeated, “Up!”
Quickly you got up, scrambling to get your legs to work. “Walker lie down.”
August raised a dark brow at him, but to your surprise complied none the less. Now lying on his back, cock twitching impatiently, oozing precome across his hairy stomach.
You didn’t have to wonder long, what Sy wanted to do, as he had risen as well, removing the bothersome fabric to free his poor cock at last.
“Come ‘ere.”
You complied and as soon as you were within reach, Sy lifted you up. Manoeuvring you in a way that he could climb back onto the bed, easily dangling your body above August’s, as if you weighed nothing.
Having caught on to Sy’s plan, August scooted up on the mattress until his cock was perfectly positioned underneath your opening, hand holding it up, so you could sink right down on his length.
You felt like a ragdoll in Sy’s arms, completely at his mercy, as he held you right where he wanted you.
“Open them knees, bun.”
The second you did, he began lowering you. When August’s mushroom tip brushed your folds, you moaned again. Just his cock head felt already so wide, you wondered briefly if you could even take him in this position. Though Sy didn’t wait, he simply let August nudge against your hole until he was satisfied, then he lowered you further.
The first few inches of August’s cock sank into you without difficulty. Though you felt overwhelmed by the fullness, as soon as he was a little over half way inside. Mewling at the feeling.
Sy’s hands on your hips grounded you, along his words, “Doin’ so well for us. Just relax.”
“Fuck darling, such a good girl. Yeah doing so good, taking…argh fuck all of me…”
He cursed again, as you had relaxed your muscles enough to sink down his entire length, folds crushed against his pubic bone. Only Sy’s hands around you, prevented you from falling forward, as you twitched above your best friend/lover.
“There ya go. How does he feel?”
“Fu-uck so deep.”
“Yeah. Think ya can ride ‘im?”
When you only mewled Sy chuckled darkly, “Very well then, I’ll help.”
Not realising what he meant, you cried out in surprise, when his big paws lifted you up a little bit, before he pushed you back down August’s cock.
Your hands tightened around your husband’s wrists as he repeated the movement, needing something to hold onto before you completely lost your mind.
August’s grunts sounded like a wild boar, being speared. Even though he was the one spearing you.
“Clenching so much, messy, messy girl.” His eyes bore into yours, as Sy scooted closer, panting into your ear when his own leaking cock pressed between your butt cheeks.
“Gonna make ya, even messier, bun. Gonna paint your back all white.”
“Ah, yes please, plea-se.”
While Sy steered your hips and rhythmic movement on August’s cock, he rutted against your arse and back just as roughly, moaning into the crook of your neck. You didn’t know how he did it, but he suddenly increased the pace, making your tits bounce with every downward drop.
“Go-gonna come…”
August swiftly bucked his hips up, to meet your drops, ramming against your special spot with such violence, you cried out. Black spots started to dance before your eyes, pussy clenching down harder and harder, making it near impossible for August to move at all within you.
Sy’s rutting became just as violent, matching August’s loud animalistic growls. “Fuck yeah, baby come on his cock…come for us.”
August cursed, pushing with all his might into your cunt, tipping you over the edge easily and following suit with a last growl. Your orgasm was so intense, your whole body tingled and then you felt something hot and sticky spill onto your back. Sy had come simultaneously, his cum now running down your skin, as August’s began dribbling out of your overflowing cunt.
You leaned against Sy’s sweaty chest, panting just as breathlessly as him and August.
August’s softening cock slipped out of your pussy, but before you could do anything else, Sy had taken his place, shoving his own somewhat softened cock inside, earning a loud, drawn out moan from you at the overstimulation.
“Gotta keep me warm for a bit, love.”
And as if that explained everything, he manoeuvred you both into a lying down position, so you faced August while being pressed against Sy’s chest, still impaled by his fat cock.
“Can see why he can’t get enough. That sweet pussy of yours is heaven, darling.” He rolled onto his side, facing you directly now, though your eyes began to droop already. Thoroughly exhausted from the day’s events and the incredible fuck you just received.
August pulled the cover over the three of you, the warmth radiating off of them making you shiver.
Blinking slowly, you smiled gently before whispering, “The best birthday present ever. You’ve got me right? You’ll stay, won’t you?”
“We’ve got ya, love.”
“Forever, darling…”
SAUSAGE
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Pairing: Clark Kent X Reader X August Walker X Walter Marshall X Syverson.
Warnings: you on your pms being a little grumpy and sentimental. Talk of body insecurities a little. Lots os fluff!! (I don't know, but maybe the reader is kind of a baby girl sometimes? I still don't know for sure, but the boys like it very much!)
Sumary: after an afternoon in a meeting, you and the boys decide to watch a movie, in which they discover you have a crush on some character and you get on your nerves for it. The next day, they know what's is happening to you, Pms, right?
It was a cloudy friday. You woke up and went to take breakfast.
In the kitchen you gave good morning to everyone and went to seat on your spot on the table. Your breakfast was already ready. The boys insisted on doing every morning. Clark affirming that you drank the same coffe, so it was no bother to him to make your mug at the same time as his. And Walter, with the same excuse, saying that you two ate the same sandwich, so there was no reason for him not to make yours with his. They were spoiling you, they always did. Besides they never treated you like less, for beign the only girl in the group, you couldn´t deny that they spoiled you. Your days of cooking were less, they were constantly asking if you were okay after playing a sport with them (they knew they could get rough), always when you were to watch a movie, they made a special cup of hot chocolate for you, they always knew your choices from the menu (they could be very attentive sometimes), and the list goes further.
Today was a normal day. In the morning, you went to August's personal gym. In the begining of the afternoon, you read your book in the balcony with Clark reading his, his legs propped on the small table, and yours on top of his thighs, your head propped in two pillows. In the middle of the afternoon, you had a metting online of your job and went till night. After the meeting you met the boys on the living room.
"Doll, we asked pizza for dinner. I said you wanted four cheese, but Clark and Sy said you wanted Peperoni, so we asked peperoni, since it won the votes." August said.
"Okay, sometimes it´s weird you knowing the flavour i´ll want in the day."
"We just want to make you feel special, Dove." Walter said, making you blush and look to the floor.
Before the food arrived, you all went to pick a movie. After some battles, you settled for Avengers 4.
The pizza arrived. After the dinner, you offered to make the cocoa today.
Finished the task, you took everybody´s mugs to them. Only now, getting back from the kitchen with your own, it was when you took a look for your seat. The four bear of a man took all the space on the couch. Usually you sat on a big, comfortable armchair, stfuffed full of blankets and pillows to be more cozy and warm. That had become your chair (actually, it was really more comfortable than the couch itself). However, Sy and Walter started fighting that afternoon, because of a stupid videogame, and broke the chair (Walter pushing Sy against a foot of the armchair, making it break and loose it´s balance, breaking another foot. August scolded then and took the armchair to the consert, but it would took a few days to get it back.
You had no place to sit, so you decided to make a small bed of blankets on the floor, near the couch. You took your blankets and pillows that you used on the armchair (they were gathered on the arm of the couch) and started making your improvised bed. While your concentration was at the task in hand, you didn´t see the boys looking at each other, confusion etched on their faces.
"Doll, what are you doing?" August asked.
"I don´t have the chair anymore, so i don´t have my seat. I´m gonna make a blanket bed on the floor. Why?"
"You are so not staying on the floor, come to the couch." Sy said.
"Well, i don´t know if you noticed, but there is no space for even one more atom there." You responded him.
" Just lay on top of us, or sit on somebody´s lap." Sy said as if it was the most obvious decision you could make. They all agreed.
You exitated for a moment, but you knew they wouldn´t let you stay on the floor, even with all the blankets of the mansion.
You got near Clark, who was sitting at one of the points of the sofa and quietly asked. "Can I sit on your lap?"
"Sure, sweety." He responded.
You sat on his lap and rested your back on his chest. The movie started. After five minutes, you were already feeling self conscious of your weight (you weren´t petite, nor exactly skinny, and you knew that). You whispered something to Clark, but apparently, not low enough, because everybody looked at you in kind of shock. "Clark, if I get too heavy, just tell me and i´ll move, okay?"
With your statement, all the boys looked at you.
"What did you just say, dove?" Walter asked.
"I just didn't want Calrk to be unconfortable." You said, aready blushing for the way they were looking, wide eyed, at you.
"Okay, i've seen buildings fall on him and he left him without a scratch, he lifted like it was nothing, and you think you, on his lap, will hurt him?" August was deadpanned.
"i just didn´t want to bother him." You whispered, looking to your hands.
"How much do you thing you weight, dove?" Walter questioned.
"Ceirtainly not more then a whole Metropolis building." Sy stated.
"I'm sorry." You say, turning on Clark's lap to hug him, hidding your face on the crock of his neck, on the side were there was no one sitting to see you.
"Leave her alone." Clark gestured with his mouth. "It's okay, sweety. Don´t mind them. It´s very thoughtfull of you to think about my confort. But you are not heavy. You feel like a thin sheet over me. I can barely feel your weight."
"Okay." You whisper in his ear as you position yourself to face the tv again. You noticed the movie was paused and they were all still looking at you. "Continue the movie."
"Have you ever seen Sy and Clark wrestle?" August asked you.
"No."
"He lifts Sy in two seconds, with just one arm, and he holds him there until Sy surenders. I still can not believe you think you are heavy."
"I said i'm sorry" You say hugging Clark´s torso this time, starting to feel bad about their coments.
"Stop tormenting her, she is just a sweet girl, being nice as always." Clark explained, enveloping your back with one arm.
"My apologies, Doll. I just can´t imagine you thinking yourself too heavy. I didn´t mean to upset you." August said.
"Everybody have insecurities, it´s not nice to make fun of then." You say hidding your face on Clark´s chest.
"Good job, dickhead, now you really upset her." Walter said rolling his eyes.
" I´m sorry, Doll, it wasn´t my intension, you know it. Can i give you an apology hug ?" August asked, stroking the back of your head with one arm stretched, almost laying on top of Walter and Sy to be able to reach you. As he does so, you take your face off of Clark's chest and look at him with puffy, red eyes. It caught August's heart strings. "Oh, Doll, please forgive me." He said stretching both arms, inviting you for a hug. You looked up at Clark and, with a simpathetic grin, he nodded at you to go.
You untangled yourself from the kriptonian's body and went to August. You lined down to hug him, when suddenly he pulled you to his lap, making you gasp in surprise. "Forgive me, sometimes i can be a jerk, i'm sorry. It's just that, i think you are so confident in some matters, that i forget you might have insecurities as well." As he says that, he kisses your forehead.
You look at him and gives a small smile. "It´s okay, just don´t do that anymore, don´t push too far." You respond him.
As you go to get up to go back to Clark´s lap, August envelops your waist with his long arms, not letting you go. "Can I steal you from Clark? Could you watch the movie from here? Please?"
You exitate for a couple of second but agrees.
As you start to make yourself comfortable, he says. "And don´t worry, if i get unconfortable, i´ll tell you." He says, guessing your thoughts.
"Okay, thank you." You lowly say, resting your head on his shoulder.
The movie continues.
In the middle, in the scene where Thor and Rocket are in Asgard for an Infinite Stone, there is a brieve scene where Loki shows up. You were curled on August's lap hugging one of his arms, and in this specific scene, you curl yourself more and squeez his arm, holding during the scene. August just took as you getting more confortable. Walter, who was by his side, noticed your move and thought the same thing. Later, during another scene, this time in New York, when Tony and Scott were going to get the stone, Loki appeared on the screen again and, one more time, you squeezed August's bicep, but, this time, as Loki said his lines, you mouthed them with him. August felt your breath on his arm and looked at you, who were oblivious to his gaze and mouthing alongside the character. Walter saw you in the corner of his eyes as well. As the scene passed, they looked at each other with a knowing grin. To test their theory, August took the remote control and said. "I want to see that scene back, i zoned out during it." and he put again, and again, you curl more into him and give a silly smile. But little did you know that this time, there were four pair of eyes looking at you, since Walter told Sy and Clark about his and August's theory while August was getting back in the movie.
As the scene unfolded again and ended, the movie was paused again. You looked at August in cinfussion. "Why did you stop?" That's when you noticed they were all staring at you. "Why are you all looking at me? What happened?"
"I can not believe it, you like Loki!" Walter said smilling bright.
"I certainly do not!"
"Yes, you do. everyone saw it, darling. Loki, out of every avenger, Loki!" Sy said.
"How could you have seen it? You can´t see emotions." You say sulking your face and looking down to your lap, not wanting to give up on your secret crush (not so secret anymore, aparently).
"Doll, I felt your breath against my arm while you said his phrases with him, i also felt you squeeze my arm the three times he apeared. We all saw your silly smile. You can´t deny it."
"You are such a traitor." You say as you try to get out of his lap. "Let me go, you snake."
"Ouch! Not necessary." He says, finally letting you go. You take the blankets and pillows and put it on the floor by the foot of the couch, sitting there and making yourself comfortable. A second later, you fell caloused hands sneaking under your armpits, lifting you in the air and sitting you on somebody's lap. "Hey, hey, Hey!" You said in surprise. You knew those hands, it was Walter's.
"We said you were not staying on the floor." Walter said. You didn´t respond, just curled yourself into his lap, like you did in August's, resting your head on his chest and looking to the tv.
"Why the sulking face now?" Sy asked.
"I was just smiling at the tv, in peace, and you were all observing me, that's not fair. I'm a grown woman, i can like other people without being teased. And yes, Loki, for god's sake. He´s funny, inteligent, sarcastic, have nice hair, have some hobbies that i also have, and he is freakishingly handsome. Having a conversation with him'd seem really interesting and pleasant. He is just misunderstood and got involved with the wrong people. Get over it!" You raised your voice a little. After you finish your indignation, you hide your face on Walter's chest. Gosh, his was softer then Clark´s. His honkers larger and more cozy, you could stay like that forever.
They all stayed quiet for a bit. After a couple of minutes, realization of your previous act beamed down on you. Great, now you were embarassed. So, you decided to deal with the situation the quickiest way you knew. You turned to face August. "Sorry for calling you a snake, it was not fair, you did nothing wrong." Then you turned on Walter's lap, stradling him now, so you could face everyone. Looking down to your fidgeting fingers, you spoke "I´m sorry for raising my voice and being mad at you, it was unrational and did not have any pourpose. I hope you can forgive me and we can all continue watching the film." As you ended your apology, Walter pulled your body forward into a tight hug, smoothing your back.
"It's okay, dove. We all loose our temper sometimes."
"I´'m sorry you all." You say again, voice muffled by Walter's neck.
"It's okay, Doll." As August said that, you untangle yourself from Walter and go to August's lap again, hugging him one more time.
"I was mean when you were being nice to me, forgive me."
"It's okay, don´t worry. Everyone has bad days. Shhhh." He cooed you.
"Let's continue the movie" Sy said. And so you did.
When you woke up, you were at your room. Same clothes from last night. How did you got there? The last thing you remember was you watching the middle of the movie.
You get up and go take a shower. After having freshened up, you go to the boys area to have breakfast.
"Good morning" you say rubbing your eyes.
"Good Morning" They all said back. As you sat on the table, you see your breakfast ready, as always, but with a small chocolate bar added on the side of your plate.
"We thought you might want something sweet." Clark said.
"O-okay, thank you. But, why'd think so? If you don't mind me asking."
"Because you are in your PMS, darling. So this may help."Sy stated.
"PMS? But i don't have it. And it's funny you trying to tame my hormones with a chocolate bar."
"Well, i'm sorry to tell you, darling, but we think you do have PMS."
You laughed a little. "If you say so. But, how do you know i'm in my PMS?"
"After you slept on my lap last night, you looked really tired, and your hands clutched really tight on my sweather, something was not right. So, Clark remembered that tree weeks ago you were menstruated, then, assuming you had a normal cicle, we did the maht based on those asssumptions, and you had to be on your PMS." August stated.
"Oh, I feel mortified!"
"Don´t be, sweety, it's a natural thing. A painful thing that men will never experience, and the least we could do is understad it and try to help the most we can." Clark said.
"Well, and i'm sorry for behaving like a rude person." You say laughing.
"You have nothing to apologize about" August said.
You ate your breakfast and, in the end, while you were finishing your coffe, Walter asked you " Dove, could you get me the mug from August's job please? I wanna see it up close."
" Sure." You went to the place where the mugs usually were but didn't find it.
"August, honey, where is it?"
"Oh, it's in the top shelf." He said.
You looked up and found it. You were not sure you could reach it, but before you could go grab a chair, you decided to give it a try. Standing on your tiptoes, you stretched your arm up to get it, but only your fingertips could touch it. Before you can even think about turning to get a chair, you felt to hands on your hips, pushing you up with ease.
You looked down at Sy, "They were right, you are fun to lift."
You imediately blushed, hidding your face in your hands. "Oh my god, put me down." You lowly said. Sudenlly, you fell yourself being lifted up and down. "Come on, Sy." You tried one more time. However, he didn't listen, instead, he put you down for one second, before putting one arm behind your thighs and one behind your back, lifting you bridal style.
"Don't be shy, darling, everyone got their turn before but me, it's only fair." He said, softly laughing. Then, he starts curling his arms, pushing you up and down on his embrace. You couldn't resist yourself and you started laughing.
You were oblivious to their looks at you and Sy. They really got upset with you last night for you thinking bad of your body, since they considered you the most cute thing ever. So, seeing you laughing hard while Sy lifted you, made then really happy. However, they wanted to make you laugh too, so they joined you.
"Pass her to me." Walter demanded.
"Guys, don't, we have more things to do." You spoke.
"Nothing is more important than hearing you laugh, dove." Walter said as he got you from Sy. He put his hands under your armpits and through you in the air, making you scream. After he caught you, you hugged him, with your legs around his waist tight and said "Don't do that. It's scaryy."
"Hey, dont do that! Poor thing, ask her first." August said as he got you from Walter. You were clinged to him know, just like a coala. "So, Doll, what are you going to do today?"
"In the morning i'm going to the gym. In the afternoon i have some work to do and i promised Lurdez, Rosa and Juana (the maids who you share your ala with) to have dinner with then today. A girl's night, more specific."
"And when would you tell us that, if i didn't asked? I don't like they stealing you from us." August stated.
"Oh, come on, it is just one night. You all can have a boys night, will be so fun! And, i was going to tell you over lunch."
"Honey, without you here, it's a chaos, you put limits in those barbarians." August said side eyeing the others.
"You had your turn, give her to me." Clark said. He took you and got you on the couch, sitting you on his lap. "Did you sleep well, sweety?"
"Yes, i was very tired yesterday, work wore me out. And you? Good dreams?"
"Yes, besides hearing Sy's snores all night, i slept well."
You laughed, passing your hands on his curls. "i have to go now, get ready for my daily training. See you, everyone." You said, waving back as you exited the kitchen.
"I can't believe she thought she was heavy, she weights half of Sy." Said Clark.
"I was so sad to hear she has insecurities, i always thought she was so cute and perfect." August added.
"I just wanna make her feel good with herself." Walter said lowly.
"Same here, man. In this quarentine, we need to show her how incredible she is."
Summary: after two months stuck in your house due quarantine, you were already bored, but then , an invitation arrives to you on the right time.
Pairing: August Walker X Reader X Clark Kent X Syverson X Walter Marshall
Warnings: none specific. Some cozy moments with the boys.
Two months in quarantine. That´s how much time you´ve been locked in your apartament. You only talked to friends and family by phone. You had already done everything in your house that had to be done. Every chore possible! Even your books couldn´t dristract you much anymore.
That´s when it happened. Already thwo months and a half in your apartament when you got a message on yourfriend's chat group. Algust Walker had invited you, ClarkKent, Syverson and Walter Marshall to stay for a while in his mansion on the suburbs.
At first, you thought it was a great idea, you really missed your friends and would love to spent time with them. However, after this seconds of joy, you remembered: you were a girl, going to stay in a house full of boys. Althought they were your best friends since high school, always treating you well, with respect and boundaries on the jokes and plays, but you couldn´t help the feeling of exitation. As you went to answer him that you didn´t think it was a good idea for you, August added to his previeus message.
"y/n, You will be staying in the second part of the mansion. It is conected to the first part by only one room. I´ll give you the only keys to it and it´ll be all yours. I understand that the idea of staying locked in a house full of man can be scary, so you will have your own space for when you need it, having the only keys. Moreover, there is three maids in the mansion, and, if you don´t mind, they will be sleeping in this second part of the mansion as well. I understand if you say no to my proposal, but i´d love to have you over. If you have any questions or ados to do, please, i´m all ears."
After this statement, you started to consider. You knew they would never do something to you, however, it was good to have precausion. The maids were female, they would be a good company and comfort if needed, besides, the mansion had a lot of neighboors. And you knew August to well, he really would give you the only keys and, as you all knew, he had a box with a little of Kriptonite in that part of the mansion, so you´d be really safe. With this in mind, you agreed to his proposal.
After twoo weeks, you had already packed everything you wanted to take with you. August went to pick you up. Arriving there, everyone was already settled. You gave each a greeting and August went to show you your part.
The second part was by far the most beautiful one, with tapestrues on the walls, cristal chandeliers and a small library and balcony with view to the front of the house and the street. He introduced you to the maids and left you to settle yourself.
"Hello, child. You must be y/n." One of the maids said.
"Yes, nice to meet you all. Hope i'll not be disturbing yuor routine here. Just tell me the rules and you wont have problems with me." You said laughing at the end.
"Don´t worry, dear, we don´t have rules here. If something bothers us, we will tell you. So, you are a friend of Aulgust, right?" The other maid asked.
"Yes. Me and the boys became really close friends in high school. We did philosophy, chemistry and history togheter. After school, we never lost touch. They are very dear to me."
"This kind of friendship is very rare to find, keep it safe, sweety. So, we´ll leave you to settle. If you ever need a time away from the boys, you are always welcome to spend time with us. Don´t exitate to seek for some woman company in this house." The last maid said laughing softly in the end.
"Thank you so much. I can say the same for you. If you need something, i´m here." They bid you good bye and went back to what they were doing.
You unpacked, putting everything in the wardrobre. Setting the books you brought with you in a small shelf and your higiene utensils in the bathroom. After that, it was almost night, so you went to the boys area.
"well, well, well, look who it is." August said. He went to your direction and softly touched you arm, looking down at you. "Do you need anything? Were they nice to you?"
August, always a great host.
"They were amazing, very polite. I don´t need anything, thank you. Actually, i wanted to know about dinner."
"We were thinking about pasta. What would you say? My famous pasta, more specificly." Walter said.
"Yes! I´ve missed it so much!"
"Okay, now that everybody agreed, out of my kitchen. Everybody, of you go." Walter said pushing Clark, who was closer to him, out of the kitchen.
"He is already dominating the house." August said rolling his eyes.
After dinner, everybody with their tummyes full, you decided to play a board game ( since you didn´t know how to play any video games). You settled for Monoply. The game was played in two doubles, and someone to be the banking. August and Sy were on the same double, as always. You went with Walter. Clark was the banking. You all sat at the mat in the living room, with the game on the coffe table.
It all went well, with the boys being a little to competitive sometimes, as always. In the end, you and Walter won, leaving a frustrated August and Sy on the other side of the table.
"This was nice, i missed everyone together." Clark said.
"I agree." You said with a yawn. "Well, boys, if you doun´t mind, i´ll retrieve myself to my chambers." You said getting up, supporting a hand on Walter´s shoulder.
"I mind." Said Sy with a grin.
"Don´t mind him, he doesn´t know what good manners mean." August said rolling his eyes at his friend comment.
"Sorry, darling, i was just joking."
You bid good night to everyone and went to your room. In the living room of your area, you found the maids and bid then good night too (not after refusing some tea, claiming you were to sleepy already, but other day you´d definitely join them.)
This was nice. It´ll be really fun this time with your friends during quarentine.
Summary: after two months stuck in your house due quarantine, you were already bored, but then , an invitation arrives to you on the right time.
Pairing: August Walker X Reader X Clark Kent X Syverson X Walter Marshall
Warnings: none specific. Some cozy moments with the boys.
Two months in quarantine. That´s how much time you´ve been locked in your apartament. You only talked to friends and family by phone. You had already done everything in your house that had to be done. Every chore possible! Even your books couldn´t dristract you much anymore.
That´s when it happened. Already thwo months and a half in your apartament when you got a message on yourfriend's chat group. Algust Walker had invited you, ClarkKent, Syverson and Walter Marshall to stay for a while in his mansion on the suburbs.
At first, you thought it was a great idea, you really missed your friends and would love to spent time with them. However, after this seconds of joy, you remembered: you were a girl, going to stay in a house full of boys. Althought they were your best friends since high school, always treating you well, with respect and boundaries on the jokes and plays, but you couldn´t help the feeling of exitation. As you went to answer him that you didn´t think it was a good idea for you, August added to his previeus message.
"y/n, You will be staying in the second part of the mansion. It is conected to the first part by only one room. I´ll give you the only keys to it and it´ll be all yours. I understand that the idea of staying locked in a house full of man can be scary, so you will have your own space for when you need it, having the only keys. Moreover, there is three maids in the mansion, and, if you don´t mind, they will be sleeping in this second part of the mansion as well. I understand if you say no to my proposal, but i´d love to have you over. If you have any questions or ados to do, please, i´m all ears."
After this statement, you started to consider. You knew they would never do something to you, however, it was good to have precausion. The maids were female, they would be a good company and comfort if needed, besides, the mansion had a lot of neighboors. And you knew August to well, he really would give you the only keys and, as you all knew, he had a box with a little of Kriptonite in that part of the mansion, so you´d be really safe. With this in mind, you agreed to his proposal.
After twoo weeks, you had already packed everything you wanted to take with you. August went to pick you up. Arriving there, everyone was already settled. You gave each a greeting and August went to show you your part.
The second part was by far the most beautiful one, with tapestrues on the walls, cristal chandeliers and a small library and balcony with view to the front of the house and the street. He introduced you to the maids and left you to settle yourself.
"Hello, child. You must be y/n." One of the maids said.
"Yes, nice to meet you all. Hope i'll not be disturbing yuor routine here. Just tell me the rules and you wont have problems with me." You said laughing at the end.
"Don´t worry, dear, we don´t have rules here. If something bothers us, we will tell you. So, you are a friend of Aulgust, right?" The other maid asked.
"Yes. Me and the boys became really close friends in high school. We did philosophy, chemistry and history togheter. After school, we never lost touch. They are very dear to me."
"This kind of friendship is very rare to find, keep it safe, sweety. So, we´ll leave you to settle. If you ever need a time away from the boys, you are always welcome to spend time with us. Don´t exitate to seek for some woman company in this house." The last maid said laughing softly in the end.
"Thank you so much. I can say the same for you. If you need something, i´m here." They bid you good bye and went back to what they were doing.
You unpacked, putting everything in the wardrobre. Setting the books you brought with you in a small shelf and your higiene utensils in the bathroom. After that, it was almost night, so you went to the boys area.
"well, well, well, look who it is." August said. He went to your direction and softly touched you arm, looking down at you. "Do you need anything? Were they nice to you?"
August, always a great host.
"They were amazing, very polite. I don´t need anything, thank you. Actually, i wanted to know about dinner."
"We were thinking about pasta. What would you say? My famous pasta, more specificly." Walter said.
"Yes! I´ve missed it so much!"
"Okay, now that everybody agreed, out of my kitchen. Everybody, of you go." Walter said pushing Clark, who was closer to him, out of the kitchen.
"He is already dominating the house." August said rolling his eyes.
After dinner, everybody with their tummyes full, you decided to play a board game ( since you didn´t know how to play any video games). You settled for Monoply. The game was played in two doubles, and someone to be the banking. August and Sy were on the same double, as always. You went with Walter. Clark was the banking. You all sat at the mat in the living room, with the game on the coffe table.
It all went well, with the boys being a little to competitive sometimes, as always. In the end, you and Walter won, leaving a frustrated August and Sy on the other side of the table.
"This was nice, i missed everyone together." Clark said.
"I agree." You said with a yawn. "Well, boys, if you doun´t mind, i´ll retrieve myself to my chambers." You said getting up, supporting a hand on Walter´s shoulder.
"I mind." Said Sy with a grin.
"Don´t mind him, he doesn´t know what good manners mean." August said rolling his eyes at his friend comment.
"Sorry, darling, i was just joking."
You bid good night to everyone and went to your room. In the living room of your area, you found the maids and bid then good night too (not after refusing some tea, claiming you were to sleepy already, but other day you´d definitely join them.)
This was nice. It´ll be really fun this time with your friends during quarentine.
>> After Bucky smacking your ass, you’re sure you need some help to get your revenge. So, you ask your other boyfriend to help you out a bit. <<
Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Reader
Wordcount: 1.806 Words
Warnings: poly-relationship, m/m/f, established relationship, lots of fluff, mention of touching Bucky’s crotch, but angst, petnames [grumpy, doll, babydoll]
Authors Note: The oneshot is based on this thought of @mercurial-chuckles. It was supposed to be a little Drabble but turned out to be more than that — hope you enjoy. Dividers made by me.
Events: Stucky Bingo [SB6010 | N3 | Free Space | @stuckybingo], Steve Rogers Bingo [SB4054 | B4 | Modern no powers | @steverogersbingo]
Masterlist | Stucky x Reader Masterlist
After dinner and cleaning, you were finally ready to settle down on the couch. Steve was sitting on one side of it, while Bucky sat — with his arm on the backrest to reach over to Steve — on the other side of the couch. The space between them wasn’t much, but enough for you to sit down between them and cuddle up to both of your boyfriends.
At least that was your second plan for the night, after you finished your first plan. For that, you needed Steve, who sat pretty close to the victim of what you had planned for your brown-haired boyfriend. When he thought he could smack your ass, you would smack him back — softly, but with a surprise.
You slowly walked around the couch, wrapping your arms around Bucky’s neck to kiss his cheek before you moved to Steve, who got the same sweet treatment. “Stevie, could you help me for a moment?”
Steve immediately got up from the couch, leaning over the backrest to press a kiss to your forehead. He smiled softly at Bucky, ruffling his soft brown hair, and you giggled as Bucky grunted. He hated when people messed up his hair, but when you and Steve did — you always got a grunt or a playful glare, but secretly he loved the sweet gesture of love.
“Stop grunting, grumpy. We know you love it,” Steve smirked down at his boyfriend before he followed you back into the kitchen. The way you leaned against the counter told him everything — he wasn’t supposed to help you with the dishes or whatever because you had done it together already. But maybe you needed a box from the top shelf, he would have guessed. Until he saw you standing there with a smirk and that adorable puppy looking across your face. “Oh, no. Whatever you have planned, no.”
“Stevie, please. You could at least listen to me,” you mumbled, a pout forming in your lips. Steve groaned playfully, nodding his head while he took a step closer to tower above you. His ocean blue eyes were staring down into yours, and he placed both of his big hands behind you on the counter — caging you between the counter and his muscular frame. “I want revenge.”
He raised his eyebrow in amusement, pressing his body further against yours. “For what? Because you didn’t win the bread contest?”
“No! Because Bucky smacked my precious bottom,” you explained, grinning as you reached behind you to show him the box with flour you already placed on the counter. Steve looked behind you, chuckling when he thought about all the ways you could come up with to give Bucky a good flour shower. “I need you to hold him down? Or else… he will grasp me, and I can’t have my flour revenge.”
“Okay, princess. But if I get just a tiny bit of that flour at my clothes, you will be in for a double punishment. One from me and one from Bucky,” Steve told you, already excited to get flour on his clothes so he and Bucky could be the amazing team they are and chase you through the house to tickle you until you scream their names and beg them to stop.
They loved doing it, and even though they didn’t even need a reason for that, it was even more exciting if they could chase you through the house.
You nodded, pecking Steve’s lips before you pushed him softly away. You grasped the box filled with flour and walked behind him back into the living room.
While Bucky was focused on the television, waiting for the two of you to join him on the couch, Steve walked slowly closer to him. You had to swallow down your giggles when you pressed one of your hands into the flour and put the box back on the counter.
As Steve reached the brown-haired man, he placed his hands on both of his shoulders, walking behind the couch to push Bucky back into the backrest. Bucky chuckled, doing exactly what Steve knew he would do — he placed his hands on Steve’s. Within a second, Steve grasped his boyfriend's hands and pressed them with his strength into the backrest as well.
“Whatcha doin’ there, Stevie?” Bucky laughed until he saw you walking into the room with the widest, teasing grin on your lips. Bucky tried to free his hands, but Steve held his hands with the same strength he used to push against his boyfriend's hands.
You slowly approached them, standing in front of Bucky. You held your hand in front of his face, and his blue orbs widened. Bucky tried to free his hands once again, but Steve’s grip was strong enough to keep him in place while you leaned forward and placed your clean hand on his thigh. Your flour-covered hand was inches above his crotch; black sweatpants were covering it, and you giggled as Bucky looked down at your hand.
“Don’t you dare press your flour-covered hand onto my black pants, doll!” He growled, struggling further to get out of Steve’s grip. You all knew that Bucky could kick you away, but he didn’t want to hurt you — plus it was just flour; it was easy to wash it out again.
“Mhm…” You giggled and pressed your hand softly down on his crotch. Bucky groaned, throwing his head back while you looked with such an innocent expression up at him. Quiet curses left Bucky’s plump lips until Steve leaned down to capture his boyfriend's lips with his own — Captain Language still didn’t like cursing. “Looks like it belongs to me now.”
With that, you ran away, knowing that once Steve would let go of your boyfriend, Bucky would chase after you. He didn’t mind your handprint on his crotch, not at all, but the chasing and the following tickling was just so much fun for the three of you.
“Wait till I get ya into my hands, babydoll,” Bucky shouts, freeing his hands from Steve’s grip, who had loosened it already. Bucky jumped off the couch, turning to look at Steve with a playful smirk. “And once she got her tickle punishment, it will be your turn to be tickled!”
Bucky ran after you, leaving a chuckling Steve in the living room. The blond-haired man sat down, waiting for your and Bucky’s laughter. He chuckled as he heard Bucky calling after you.
As the brown-haired man ran past the door, the bell suddenly rang, and Bucky stopped in his tracks. He rolled his eyes, listening to your footsteps. Bucky placed one of his hands on the door handle, opening the door while he shouted once again after you. “I will get ya and then ya will beg me, babydoll!”
When Bucky turned to face the person standing in front of the door, his expression got serious and he narrowed his eyes. The young lady smiled softly at him — Bucky knew she had a crush on him, always trying to get him out on a date and never believing that you and Steve are together with Bucky.
“Hi, did we order something?” Bucky asked, looking the woman up and down; she didn’t have anything in her hands. As she shook her head, Bucky tilted his and waited for an explanation.
“Hello, I-uhm I’m off today, but thought… we could. Maybe you would be interested in going to the movies?” She asked, playing with her fingers while she looked at your boyfriend. Her eyes widened as she noticed the handprint on his crotch. Her cheeks heated up, and she immediately looked back into his face.
Before Bucky could say anything, you walked back towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You were standing behind him, tilting your head to look at who was standing in front of him. “Who’s that? Oh! Hi! Did we order something? STEVIIIEEE? Did you order something?”
“N-no, y-you didn’t. I wanted to ask… ask Bucky if he would like to… go out to the movies. But it looks like he’s busy already,” she mumbled, feeling embarrassed as she finally noticed that Bucky never lied or was too shy but really was in a relationship with you and Steve.
You nodded, your stomach dropping. Not only because you were scared that Bucky could choose her but also because of how she would feel about seeing him with you so close — and your handprint on his crotch.
“Do me the favor and go to Stevie, babydoll. I will be there in a moment. I love you, so stop worrying about anything; you know I love you and Steve, only the two of you,” Bucky said quietly, kissing your forehead and looking at you with love and adoration in his eyes.
You nodded, walking back to the living room where Steve was sitting. He pulled you into his lap, holding you close while he turned on your favorite movie. “He won’t leave us; he never will. For no one, princess. Bucky loves you; he loves me. No one else had a place in his heart like we do.”
Even though you knew it, you were still afraid that one of them could be bored or less loved. The three of you have the most amazing and wonderful relationship, but somehow there are still some fears every now and then.
You heard Bucky talking to the young woman, explaining to her that he felt honored that he got her interest but that he wasn’t interested in anyone but the two people who were currently sitting on the couch.
Bucky returned to the two of you a few minutes later, smiling. He picked you up and placed you on the couch. Bucky sat down on your legs, keeping his weight still on his legs to not crash you and poke his fingers into your sides. Steve grasped your feet, moving his fingers tipped over your soles. Both of them enjoyed your soft laugh and your wiggling and begging them to stop.
“What was that, babydoll? I don’t think you have enough of it just yet, right, Stevie?” Bucky asked, leaning down to kiss you before he continued to tickle you. “But after you, we should get your partner in crime underneath us to tickle him too, shouldn’t we?”
Steve already planned to run away, but he couldn’t move from his place fast enough before Bucky threw himself backwards into his lap and helped you to sit up too. He pulled you between the two, making a ‘cuddle-sandwich’.
You may have doubts sometimes, but they always know how to let you know that you, Steve, and Bucky are the only ones who matter for one another. There won’t be someone else, because your love was not just a playful thing or a little crush — it was unconditional love.
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