megs

something i’m made for. 💌 24. | tpwk | safe space for everyone

[megsbr]

megs | she/her | twenty-four | read rules before requesting!

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[barbie-verse]

thinking hudson williams is hot is the most embarrassing reputation ruining annoying thing I could have done tbh like ohhh my god really? tall big muscles golden skin pretty hair and big brown bottom eyes kind man is hot? god fucking really. are you fucking stupid I hate myself. oh you think shane hollander is hot? fucking shane hollander? groundbreaking type shit going on here oh my god he’s tall should we tell everyone he’s tall and he's kind to people and his eyes twinkle wow she thinks the attractive man is attractive. you and everyone else. is pizza your favorite food too. fuck you. everyone look at her she thinks SHANE HOLLANDER is hot boundaries are really being pushed over here should we get her a medal because she thinks Mr Smile is easy on the eyes. “hear me out” and it’s a fucking marching band. should we call people magazine. vanilla. I DISGUST myself. summer blockbuster. I should be killed

(insp)

[rosefinchie]

how it all feels lately

[pawppunk]

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Take It, Baby

Summary: Bucky was just too big and he was desperate for just one more

Warnings: Size kink, filthy talk, overstimulation, soft dom with a filthy mouth Bucky, praising and possession themes. Reader is AFAB.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“God, look at you,” Bucky groaned, voice like gravel in your ear, deep and filthy. “Tryin’ so hard to take my cock, baby. So fuckin’ tight around me. So full.”

You whimpered, thighs trembling on either side of his hips. He was so deep, and it still wasn’t all of him. You could feel the heft of him inside you—stretching you open inch by devastating inch, your pussy clenching around the thick girth of him like you’d never get used to it.

“I can’t-” you could barely breathe, face flushed, mouth open as you clung to his shoulders. “Bucky, you’re too big–fuck—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, dark and soothing at once. “You are. Look at that greedy little pussy takin’ me, baby. So desperate for it.” His metal hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face down to focus on where his cock was splitting you open. “You’re squeezin’ me so tight I can barely fuckin’ move. Feels like you're suffocating my cock.”

He rocked his hips just enough to push in another inch and you gasped, your eyes rolling back as your nails dug into his skin. He was buried almost to the hilt now, only a breath away from bottoming out—and you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he purred, brushing his lips against your ear. “Almost there. Gonna split you open real slow so you feel every fuckin’ inch. You love it, don’t you? Love sittin’ on this cock like it’s made for you.” You moaned, the sound shameless and wrecked.

“Say it,” he rasped. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

“You,” you gasped. “Fuck, Bucky—it’s yours—always yours—”

“That’s my girl,” he hissed. “Keep sayin’ it. You want the rest? You want all of me?”

You nodded frantically, tears in your eyes from how good the pressure was. “Then take it.” His hands gripped your hips and slammed you down the last inch with a sharp snap of his hips that knocked the air from your lungs. “Oh fuck—” you cried, your whole body shuddering. “There it is,” he groaned, his head dropping back. “You feel that, baby? Feel me balls deep inside this pretty little cunt?”

You screamed, clenching around him hard enough to make him choke on a groan, and he laughed–dark, wrecked, breathless.

“Shit—you’re so fuckin’ tight. So wet. Drippin’ all over me. Fucking christ you're dripping down my thighs baby, so fucking messy for me. My sweet pussy’s just beggin’ to be used, huh?”

“Please,” you gasped, rutting against him, desperate for more friction, more anything.

“You beg so fuckin’ pretty,” he murmured. “Alright, baby—hold on.”

He started moving. Slow, filthy thrusts that dragged every thick inch of him along your fluttering walls, his cock stretching you open again and again, hitting so deep you were seeing stars. 

“Can feel you milkin’ me, fuck—your pussy knows who it belongs to,” he gritted, voice barely holding together. “You want me to fill you up, huh? Make you even more of a mess?”

“Yes-yes, Bucky-please–”

“That’s right,” he snarled, thrusts picking up, his cock pounding into you now, wet and obscene. “Gonna fuck you stupid on this cock, sweetheart. Gonna fill you so full you won’t be able to think about anything else. You won’t walk right for days. Just gonna lie there all fucked-out and dripping.”

The way he growled it in your ear had your orgasm ripping through you before you could even beg, your walls fluttering and clenching hard around him. You screamed his name, your body shuddering violently in his lap.“That’s it,” he grunted, thrusts stuttering as he chased his own high. “Fuck-gonna–ah-fuckin’ take it, baby–take all my cum–ah shit!”

He came hard, cock twitching deep inside you as he groaned against your shoulder, holding you down on him while you both trembled and breathed through the aftershocks. You were still whimpering, hips twitching in his lap, overstimulated but buzzing, drunk on the stretch and the heat of him pulsing inside you.

Bucky kissed the side of your neck, lips tender now. “Still with me, sweetheart?” he whispered. You hummed softly in response. “That’s it. You did so good for me.” You nodded, dazed and boneless, slumping into him with a ruined little smile. “Fuck,” he murmured, holding you tight. “You really are made for me.”

You were limp in his lap, still full of him, dazed and slick and barely breathing right. Your thighs twitched around his hips. Your cheek rested on his chest, and Bucky stroked your back with one hand while the other cradled the back of your head, murmuring quiet praise like a balm.

“That’s it, baby. You were perfect. Took all of me like a good girl,” he whispered, lips brushing your temple. “So fuckin’ proud of you.” You mumbled something weak, dreamy, nearly nonverbal. All you could feel was the sticky heat between your legs, the slow softening of his cock inside you, the throb of being so full. You thought it was over. You thought you’d be wrapped in a blanket, cleaned up, and kissed to sleep.

But then Bucky shifted.

You blinked, weakly clinging to him as he lifted you in his arms. Easily. Effortlessly. Like you weighed nothing at all. “Bucky?” you asked, voice hoarse. He looked down at you with that dangerous little half-smile—the one that never meant anything innocent.

“You think I’m done with you, sweetheart?” he asked, voice low, syrupy, teasing. “Nah. You were so fuckin’ good for me, lettin’ me stretch you out like that. Gotta reward you, don’t I?”

“Bucky–” you whimpered, squirming in his arms. Your pussy was aching, soaked, overstimulated from the orgasm he’d just wrung out of you with his cock. “I–I don’t think I can-”

“Yeah, you can,” he said, kissing your cheek. “You’re gonna take everything I give you, baby. Gonna lie there like my sweet little meal and let me eat this pussy ‘til you’re cryin’.”

You shuddered.

He laid you down on the bed with so much care you almost forgot what he just said–until he dropped to his knees at the edge and dragged you down with firm hands, hooking your legs over his shoulders like he owned you.

“Look at this fuckin’ mess,” he groaned, spreading you open with his thumbs, staring at the creamy slick dripping from your spent cunt. “So wet. So fucked out. Still twitchin’ for me.”

“Bucky, I’m–sensitive-”

“Oh I know, baby.” He leaned in, breath warm on your soaked folds. “Gonna take it slow. Real nice and slow darlin'.”

And then his mouth was on you. Hot, soft licks that made you sob, back arching as your fingers scrambled for the sheets. He was relentless. Lapping up every drop of his cum spilling out of you, tongue curling right against your clit like he already knew exactly how to undo you all over again. “You taste like us,” he growled into your pussy. “So fuckin’ sweet. Gonna lick this pretty cunt ‘til you’re beggin’ me to stop.”

Your thighs clenched around his head; he just growled and shoved them apart again with a bruising grip. “Keep those legs open for me, baby. Lemme ruin you properly.”

You whimpered his name, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes as his tongue flicked and sucked and fucked you open like he was starving. Every pass of his tongue over your clit made your stomach twist, your hips jerk, your whole body try to crawl away from the pleasure. But he just grabbed you by the hips and dragged you right back onto his face. “Don’t run from me,” he murmured, voice muffled. “You wanted it, remember? Said you needed me. Said you wanted everything I could give ya. So be my good girl and take it babe. ”

Your second orgasm crashed down hard–almost too hard. You cried out, thighs shaking violently around his head, your fingers fisting the sheets as your body convulsed with it.

But he didn’t stop.

Not even when you sobbed his name. Not even when your legs kicked weakly. Not even when the tears slipped free. “Shhh,” he murmured, breath warm and teasing as he finally slowed his licks. “You’re okay. Just let it happen, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

Your voice was barely coherent through the wrecked gasps.

“Too much–Bucky–it’s too much-”

He kissed your inner thigh, tongue dragging softly up your folds like an apology and a promise all at once.

“I know, baby,” he said gently. “Just one more. One more for me... just-- just need one more baby please. ”

He looked up at you, eyes completely glazed over as he begged, then his mouth was back on you—merciless.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

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[megsbr]

got me kicking my feet and blushing at the one of the filthiest things I have ever had the pleasuring of reading 🥰🥰

[firingstars]

love, persevering

thunderbolts!bucky x agent!reader

summary: grief, trauma, and a broken heart is an unstable platform for a relationship to thrive on, and neither you nor bucky ever made it clear what your relationship actually was.

warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, rough/angry sex, angst, hurt, panic attacks, anxiety, misunderstandings, yearning, comfort, shame rooms, depictions of violence and death, thunderbolts semi movie spoilers, timeline is set from end of civil war to thunderbolts, happy ending

word count: 11.5k

a/n: good luck to everyone who reads this!!!

masterlist

・・・・・ Queens, New York; 2023

“This is what you fucking wanted from me, right?” Bucky grunted from behind you, but you can’t speak. 

You have a million things you want to say to him, but none of them are right. Bucky wouldn’t listen to you even if you tried to explain. 

You’re shoved into the pillow beneath you, only moans ripping from your throat— the only sound that you can produce in response to his question. 

The only other noise between the two of you is the sound of skin slapping against skin as he pounds you from behind. The grip he has on your hips is bruising, and not in the way you usually enjoy it. 

He’s mad, and it’s your fault. 

“I asked you a question. Answer.”

His hand comes down on your ass, smacking it so hard you can’t help but moan, knowing that he left a mark on your body that will last. Your body will always react to him, even when you know you’re in the wrong— when you know you should be apologizing. When you know the last thing the two of you should be doing right now is fucking. 

You can’t help it. Your body will always call for him, always yearn for him, sing when his fingers touch you. 

“No— No,” you finally managed to choke out, tears brimming in your eyes. 

You’re not crying because you don’t want him. Not because he’s hurting you. Not because it’s too rough. You’re crying at the realization. 

You know this is the last time. 

This will be the last time you’ll feel his cock so deep inside you— the delicious angle of it dragging up and down that sweet spot inside you that he always hits so perfectly. You know you won’t be able to feel his hands all over your body again. He won’t give you a second chance, not after this. Not after the conversation you just had. 

Despite it all, you can’t find it in you to tell him to stop. The pace he has on you is punishing, and you feel guilty for even finding some sort of pleasure in how he’s taking you. 

This will be the last time that you'll have him near you. This is the last time that he will stand your presence, to even look at you with the last remaining patience left in his body. This is the final time that you will be able to have him, in any sort of way. He'll walk away from you. You'll be alone after this, after he's done.

You know deep down he would stop if you told him to. He would never disrespect you like that. No matter how angry or hurt he is, he would never do anything to hurt you. You saw it in his eyes before he took your clothes off— the chance to back out. You were the one to remove the first article of fabric, to give him the outlet that he was craving for. 

“No?” he echoed, sarcasm dripping in his voice. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Your fingers curl around the pillow and sheets beneath you for purchase— something to hold onto. He’s fucking into you so deep, barely leaving the tip of his cock in before sinking all the way back in without any hesitation. There’s no break.

Bucky rarely had you on your stomach. It’s his least favorite position, he said. He despised the fact he couldn’t see your face. He wanted to see every single emotion of pleasure he brought to you. Bucky hated that you were easily able to hide every single moan and whimper when he took you from behind.

There’s no connection, he told you one night as you laid in his arms. He whispered it to you like it was a secret as he ran his hands through your hair. He liked holding you against him, enjoyed the fact he could have easy access to your lips, and lock eyes with you. 

Yet, he put you like this from the beginning. 

Bucky was radiating an intense amount of heat, but you had never felt so cold. You were freezing in this room, even though you were both panting and sweating against each other. 

Your heart was shattering with each thrust of his hips. You’re craving him. Some sort of intimacy. You want him to hold you, even though you know you messed up. Just something for you to hold onto for the night before he disappears forever.

You know he’s close to the edge. You know his tells like the back of your hand. His thrusts are getting messier. Less rhythmic. His breathing is growing shallower, moans are becoming lower. There’s a slight tremble in his body against yours every time he connects with you, and his fingers are digging into your flesh to keep you in place right where he wants you. 

You weakly try pushing yourself on your elbows, tears finally slipping down your face. Tears that you weren’t brave enough to let fall during your conversation earlier. Tears that you knew would take forever to dry up when he finally left you.

“Bucky,” you whimpered, your voice coming out broken and raw, “Bucky— Kiss, please—“

A vibranium hand is roughly tangled in your short hair, shoving your head back into the pillows underneath you.

“Shut the fuck up,” he moaned, hips stuttering. 

You feel the familiar warmth of his release coat your walls in thick spurts. Bucky’s body shudders behind you, but he doesn’t blanket you like he usually does after he cums. No— he forces himself to pull out of you, leaving you cold, empty, used. 

Your heart is still racing as you slowly push yourself up. You can feel the remnants of him leaking out of you as you listen to the rustling sound of Bucky beginning to dress himself. 

“You don’t get to cry now,” Bucky muttered.

You pull your bottom lip in between your teeth to stop yourself from making any noise. You turn your head to look at him, watching him pull his pants over his hips. His back is turned to you. You can see his face through the vanity. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, a breath escaping your lips. “Please. I’m sorry—“

“You’re sorry because you were caught,” he cut you off, looking at you through the mirror. “Not because you actually regret anything.”

“Buck, please. Just hear me out,” you pleaded. 

“You don’t get to call me that,” he hissed at you, roughly grabbing his jacket from where it was discarded on the edge of the bed. “I don’t ever want to see your fucking face again, do you hear me? You disgust me.”

Your lips parted, silent tears dripping down and staining the bed sheets beneath you. You can’t breathe. You can only watch him as he moves towards the door to your bedroom. 

“Do you mean that?” you manage to force out as his hand touches the door knob. Your voice cracked, thick with emotion.

Bucky hesitates, for just a moment. He still hadn’t turned to face you. You watched as his shoulders square off, his body becoming guarded against you. . 

“I meant what I said earlier. You’re no better than H.Y.D.R.A..”

You’re left on your bed, naked, alone, with silent tears streaming down your face. Your body is cold, even though he was just here with you moments ago. Your ears are still ringing with the echoing sound of the front door of the apartment slamming shut with his final exit. 

・・・・・ Wakanda; 2016–2018

The room is below freezing. As a breath escapes your lips, you can see a cloud form before your face. You shook your head in disapproval, rubbing your arms as you went to turn up the thermostat. 

“Bucky?” you called out, watching the numbers hit a comfortable 73 degrees in the room. “Did you eat all your food? Was it enough? Do you want more?”

As per usual, the soldier doesn’t answer you. You always try anyway– you hope that the day will come that he’ll talk to you. You let out a sigh as you move throughout the room. He’s not at the table, but neither is his plate. Your eyebrows furrowed.

Usually, you have to go towards him and badger him to try to eat a little bit more. You have to tell him that it’s okay to eat. He barely eats as it is, and you’re not sure if it’s because he doesn’t think it’s okay to eat or if he’s trying to hoard the food for another day.

Your eyes fall on him in the corner of the room. He’s purposely making himself look smaller as he picks at pieces of the food in front of him. Yet, you see he’s not even touching the walls with his body. Like he’s almost afraid to take space.

You take a few steps, experimental. His eyes flicker to you, and you stop in your place.

“You know you can eat at the table, right?” you asked, voice soft.

He gives you one single nod. 

“You don’t want to?” you guessed. 

There’s no gesture of a response this time, but you can assume his answer from his silence. You sighed once more, and moved again. You tried to ignore the way his body stiffened as you came closer to him– a stranger– and took a seat beside him, back pressed against the wall, but there was enough space between the two of you so he could still breathe.

You picked up the least appetizing food on the plate, the small loaf of bread, and broke it in half.

“By the time I finish eating my half, you better be finished eating your food otherwise I’m telling Steve and Sam to come back early from their mission in Osaka to yell at you,” you warned him, putting the other portion of the bread down on the plate. 

You keep your eyes off of him, giving him the privacy he may or may not need to eat his lunch. You take small nibbles on your bread, eating slowly on purpose. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him finally move. He takes bigger bites than you. 

“Why aren’t you in Osaka?” he spoke. 

You’re shocked, but you try not to let it show. You give Bucky a smile, then gesture towards your body.

“I’m still injured from Berlin. King T'Challa did a big number on me when I tried to stop him from getting to the Quinjet, remember? Stevie won’t let me be deployed right now. Besides, I don't think our gracious King would let me leave Wakanda until I was fully healed anyways.”

“You’ve worked with Steve for a while?” Bucky asked. He sounded hesitant. Almost afraid of you. It made sense. You were a stranger to him, yet Steve dropped you off to take care of him without any explanation.

"I rehabbed Steve," you shrugged. "When he came out of the ice, I brought him up to speed with the new world around him. I was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, not an Avenger, but S.H.I.E.L.D. went to shit so I just... did some odd jobs for a bit. Steve asked me for help when the Avengers went to shit… and since I’m on the run for helping him, and have nothing better to do, I figured I might as well rehab you, too."

“Why?”

You turned your head to look at him, finding that he’s already looking at you. You give him a smile, leaning your head back against the wall.

“I was given a second chance in life,” you tell him. “You deserve one, too. And a third. And a fourth. I’ll give you as many chances as you need, so don’t stress out too much, Buck. Life is good. When you’re well, I’ll take you to my favorite bakery in New York.”

Bucky’s looking at you with confusion in his eyes. There’s a mixture of disbelief and distrust as well, but you don’t blame him. Steve gave you the full rundown on Bucky’s entire past. There’s nothing that you don’t know about the man.

You know every detail. The nitty, gritty, gory details that you know Bucky wouldn't tell you himself. You read the files yourself. Steve gave you the option to back out, and he said there would be no judgement if you thought you wouldn't be able to handle the amount of trauma that Bucky had.

You gave Steve a smile, and said that Bucky would be in good hands, and Steve could do what he needed out in the world.

You stay by Bucky's side the entire time, giving him the space that he silently requests for. You don't push when he pulls away from you. You don't question where he stops answering. You simply give him the options that he never had before.

And it seems to confuse him all the more.

“Why do you try so hard for me?” Bucky asked again. A longer, fuller sentence this time, but he was still asking the same thing he did before. 

You were sitting in his room. It wasn’t a mealtime. You were here of your own volition, with your computer in your lap. You were doing some background work for Steve and Sam, feeding them information while they were on the field. 

Bucky was watching you from his place on the ground. He still wasn’t comfortable enough to use his bed— so you made him a cot on the floor. Just a simple spread of two blankets, and one pillow. He started using it after two weeks. 

You lowered your laptop screen, looking at him. 

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” you asked, flipping the script on him.

You watched as his face contorted with surprise. Bucky’s lips parted, eyebrows furrowing. His mouth closed as he took in a deep breath, and swallowed thickly. 

“I’m not a good person,” he said, his voice thick. 

“Neither am I,” you replied, smiling at him. “I think the only good person amongst us is Steve. Sam, too. But that’s a bit of a debatable fact.”

Bucky’s lip twitched slightly in what almost became a smile, and you mentally celebrated the improvement. The flicker of new emotion, even if it was subtle and brief. 

“I’m sure I’ve done worse than you,” he said after a few moments, looking down at his hand. He clenched his fist opened and closed, and you were sure he was reliving some sort of memory or nightmare in the few seconds that passed between you two.

You shrugged. “It’s all relative. I’ve committed horrors that some people will never be able to forgive. That I won’t be able to forgive myself for. But that doesn’t mean others can’t forgive you.”

Bucky stayed silent for the rest of the day, and you’re sure he’s thinking about your words until late in the night.

The next morning, you exit your room to find him standing in your hall. He doesn’t say a word, but he follows you as you go on your early morning walk.

From there, the two of you spend more time together. Bucky started to seek you out on his own, looking for you when you don’t come to him first. 

In the beginning,  your time together is spent in silence. 

Your walks turn into full on hikes with the healing soldier. The only noise between you two is the nature of the native animals of Wakanda. You two sat together on cliffs, looking over the city as you would eat breakfast that you had stolen from the kitchen before you left on your walk. You both keep walking through the plains without any sort of plan or route— and you often get lost. 

When it’s time to head back to the palace, it’s Bucky that takes you by the hand and leads you towards the right path. 

Bucky started to eat meals with you at the table. Not just snacking, but full meals. The first time he asked you if there was more food in the kitchens, you jumped to your feet, and ran down the hall with tears in your eyes. 

You ate seconds with him, silent tears streaming down your face. Bucky let out the first laugh you’d ever heard from him during that meal. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked.

“Shut the fuck up and eat!” you sniffled, wiping away your tears quickly. 

Bucky would watch you train with the Dora Milaje once Shuri cleared you of your injury. He watched you get your ass handed to you multiple times over as you tried to get your footing against these warriors, raising an eyebrow at you when you returned to him with bruises and scrapes. 

“Don’t laugh,” you muttered as he handed you an ice pack. 

“Well, they’re not holding back on you, and the worst you’re getting is a bruise,” he said.

“Why do you sound impressed? Are you messing with me right now?” you accused, digging your fingers into a developing knot in your shoulder. 

“I am impressed,” he told you, making you stop and look at him with suspicion. “I didn’t really see you fight in Berlin. I understand why Steve asked you for help.”

Bucky would give you pointers with just the two of you alone. Even with just one arm, Bucky was a force to be reckoned with. He was itching to move, and he was more than happy to help you out. 

There weren't many places where you needed help, he said. You were simply out of practice from the injuries you sustained. You also had small tells that he noticed— things that you were shocked he caught onto. Bucky taught you how to fix those tells so no one would be able to use them against you again. Your sparring matches with the Dora Milaje got longer, harder— and you gained their respect almost overnight thanks to Bucky.

You still couldn’t believe Bucky’s sharp eyes when it came to your movements. The last person who noticed your weaknesses was your sister, who studied your moves like her life depended on it. 

Because it did. For her, at least. 

The first time you left on a mission, you didn’t tell Bucky. It slipped your mind. Steve came into your room in the middle of the night, waking you up. You didn’t even know he returned, but he and Sam needed you. You barely had a chance to brush your teeth before you were shoving your body into your gear, meeting them at the launchpads to leave. 

You received a high pitched static through your earpiece barely an hour on the field. You almost thought the mission was compromised, and all three of you were royally fucked. Well, you were compromised. You were just lucky it wasn’t anyone that wanted to harm you. 

“You didn’t tell me you were leaving,” he said, voice distorted slightly from wherever he had hijacked the frequency from. 

“Bucky?! What the hell—“

“Why didn’t you say you were leaving?” he cut you off. 

“Why are you on my channel right now?” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low and avoid raising attention to yourselves. 

“When will you be back?” 

You paused. Even through the distortion, you could hear it. The vulnerability thick in his voice. 

“Four days,” you answered. 

“I’ll wait three.”

The static finally cleared the comms, and Steve and Sam raised an eyebrow at you. They all heard it. You were in as much disbelief as they were. 

When you returned in two and a half days, you brought a digital calendar for his room. You started marking down your mission dates the second you heard you would be out, and would update it remotely if something ever changed. You didn’t want Bucky to panic on you again.

You watched as Wakanda healed Bucky in a way that you didn’t know was possible. Two years in this place brought peace to a man who knew seventy years of war. 

You were able to see as a smile would slowly grow on his face, as he began to talk more on his own. As the title of White Wolf was bestowed upon him by the Wakandans.

You enjoyed festivals with Bucky many times over. You dragged him down the streets of Wakanda, the two of you wide eyed and completely innocent to the culture around you. Both of you would dress in cultural garb, gifted to you by Shuri and T'Challa so you would blend in with the crowds around you. You would stay out late into the night, sometimes until the sun rose into the next day.

You would share different foods together. By this point, the locals all knew the two of you. They would give you discounts upon discounts for foods and different items of wares, or forego charging you all together. They would joke for you to tell the King about their shops in exchange for their services.

Bucky would watch as you would get your hair braided by the local girls in the village during these festivals, sitting beside you as flowers were woven into your hair. 

“It’s a shame,” he murmured, touching your hair as you walked away from the girls. 

“What is?” you asked, hands clasped behind your back.

“Your hair would be prettier like this if it was longer,” he told you, his hand dropping to his side. 

You paused, trying to push away the pounding feeling in your chest. You looked away from him— ignoring the look of contentment and peace on his features. He looked so happy at that moment. 

“I cut it for missions,” you murmured. 

“That’s why it’s a shame,” he said, nodding. “You’d look nice with longer hair.”

From that point, Bucky started picking flowers during your morning walks together. He would present them to you, and you would carry them with you. 

You don't remember when it happened, but Bucky stopped handing you flowers. He began to put them directly into your hair with a small smile on his face. If there was another flower that caught his eye during your hike, he would add it to your hair. If any of the flowers began to slip, he would stop you and adjust them before you both continued onwards. 

You had an entire drawer of dried flowers saved from your walks together. Preserved in time, each one carrying more emotion than the other. Each flower contained a different memory of him. 

A memory of not just someone you were helping out because Steve asked you to, but someone you considered as your friend. Someone that relied on you for guidance and support. Someone that you turned to for assistance when you couldn’t ask Ayo for help. Someone that you went to because you simply felt like it. Someone you wanted to spend time with because you enjoyed his presence. 

Someone that you felt guilty for falling in love with. 

Bucky was a man that was healing. 

Falling in love with him now— taking advantage of him at his most vulnerable would be fucking shameful of you. You wouldn’t let your emotions show, you wouldn’t let him know. You didn’t want to cloud his judgement as he was finally getting a grasp on who he was as a person, as he was finally gaining autonomy over himself. 

You hid your heart under your sleeve, continuing to spend your days with him with chains and locks tightly guarding the feelings that you desperately wanted to let free. You wouldn’t allow them to come out. 

Not when Bucky finally knew peace, not when he finally felt okay with himself. You wouldn’t throw a curveball in his direction, and betray him. You wanted him to view you as someone safe, someone he could trust. You didn’t want him to think you expected anything from him.

If the timing was right, if he had ever expressed interest on his own— maybe. Just maybe, you would allow yourself to melt into his embrace. Only if he made the move first, if he decided that he wanted it. Wanted you. 

You never got the chance to find out. 

The Outrider soldier you were fighting with had just vanished into nothing before you. Dread filled your stomach, and you turned to sprint across the battlefield. You needed to be sure. Terror was clawing at your every sense.

You ignored the deep gash in your torso, white, hot pain burning through your body. It didn’t matter right now. Bucky met your gaze. 

Bucky, who was disintegrating before your eyes. Bucky, who was staring at you with wide eyes. You could feel everything. You saw the panic on his face, the fear. 

Then, he was gone. 

Steve wrapped his arms around you before you could fall to your knees at Bucky’s ashes, his body shaking as if he was afraid that you would disappear next. 

You both sat there, trembling. Hearts racing, the two of you watched as dust began to float around you in the wind. 

・・・・・ Present, 2027

“Wake up!” Yelena hissed at you, hitting your leg with her foot. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as your face twisted with discomfort. Your head was pounding. Not just from the explosion, but from everything that came before that. The guards that filtered through the vault. Having to climb up an elevator shaft with strangers that you had attempted to kill moments prior. The sonic cannon that assaulted your ears. The impending doom of almost being incinerated. The strange battle between assassins and soldiers that had varying targets.

You forced your eyes open, momentarily discombobulated as you took in the scene around you. Your hands shoved into the cement beneath you before you took a sitting position. Your vision steadied after a few moments, and you froze. 

You looked down at yourself, then at the others. The rope that had been used to ‘tie’ you up was so loose that you could just slip out of it. The others were tied together tightly, wrists bound. Alexei was even secured with a metal pipe. 

“Bucky, do you really think putting a piece of string around her body was really enough?” John sarcastically asked.

Suddenly, you remembered what even put you in this position in the first place. 

He blew up your fucking get away car.

You don’t look at him, keeping your head down. You can feel his eyes on the side of your face, watching you. Waiting to see what you’ll do or say. You won’t do a single thing– not to him, at least. You owe him that much.

“They are both Avengers, that is why! He gives her the respect she is due!” Alexei boomed. 

Your eyes snap at the super soldier, and you give him a single warning look. You shake your head once. He doesn’t seem to understand.

“You fought together during what seemed to be the end of the world, yes? You, especially! With my little Natasha! I saw you on the news a few times.”

“I wasn’t– I’m not an Avenger. Never was,” you grunted.

“Can we talk about something else?” Yelena cut him off. “Like the fact that we need to find Bob?”

You let the others do the speaking, trying to calm down your thundering heart. You couldn’t hear their words. It was being filtered out, muffled by the sound of erratic beating between your ears as you kept your eyes trained on your feet. Even staring at the ground was difficult. Your vision was getting shaky.

When was the last time you were in the same room as Bucky? When was the last time he was this close to you? It had been almost five years at this point, you think. Four years and ten months if you were to be precise. 

Bucky warned you– told you to stay out of his line of sight. Is that why he blew up the fucking limo with the people that you just gained a kinship with?

It was the only reason why you ended up working for Fontaine as one of her fucking agents, doing her dirty work– doing what you did best and getting paid for it. You were a machine for these past handful of years. The perfect soldier, just as you were raised to be. You were certain your parents were singing your praises from the seventh circle in hell. 

Best of all, you could stay out of the light. Just as Bucky told you to do. Out of the light, where he was. Where he was meant to be— just like you always told him he should be. 

This was supposed to be your last mission. You found some cabin in the woods in Oregon that you were going to move to. Remote, out of the way. Something that reminded you of Wakanda without the people and the culture. You had saved enough money, lived frugally enough to be able to live comfortably for the rest of your days. You worked out a plan with Val that if she needed you, you could be pulled back onto the field every once in a while for more expensive hit missions again.

You can only follow everyone else numbly when they start shifting towards the jet that Bucky had brought, and you distinctly hear that you’re heading back to New York. 

In the jet, everyone’s flittering about. 

Alexei’s messing with tech that he’s in awe about seeing, Yelena is whacking his hands away and telling him not to focus before going back to Bucky to help him navigate. 

Walker is going through the rations, muttering about being starving while Ava looks at him with disgust when he offers her some food. She settles for a med kit, deciding to take care of her scrapes and cuts instead. 

You weren’t even tied up, but the walls were closing in on you. Your skin didn’t feel like your own, and your gear was beginning to melt into your body in a way that you couldn’t claw off fast enough. Your heart was outside of your body, and your lungs were in a different continent. 

You clenched your fists, trying to ground yourself as your fingernails dug crescent shaped indents into your palm, but it was to no avail. Your hands weren’t your own. You weren’t seeing through your own eyes. Your body wasn’t yours, and you couldn’t stop the encroaching feeling of helplessness that you desperately tried to pretend wasn’t there.

“Hey.”

Your head snapped up, seeing Ava in front you.

“Are you coming or what?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed at you.

Vaguely, you noticed everyone was already moving outside– and you forced yourself to suck in a breath of air. You could only give her a small nod before moving your weight onto your feet, following her out the jet and towards the tarmac. You didn’t even realize the jet had touched the ground. 

You’re moving to board the back with Ava when Alexei rounds the corner, grinning at you.

“Avengers should catch up!” he said, a hand coming down to your shoulder, pushing you to the carriage. “It is nice to talk with an old buddy!”

“What?” you breathed. “No, Alexei, it’s fine. You’ll be more comfortable sitting up there–”

“Go, sit with your friend!” he exclaimed happily, shoving you to the front. “I will sit back here with my daughter and her friends!”

You barely had any time to protest before Ava closed the doors to the back of the truck, locked it, and phased into the back. You stood out there, the vehicle’s engine coming to life. 

You have no choice. There’s a mission that needs to be done, and one hour of discomfort isn’t a reasonable explanation to put lives in danger. 

You pull open the door, sliding into the seat beside him. Once you’re situated, Bucky finally takes off down the road towards New York. 

You keep your gaze trained out your window, elbow against the door as you cover your mouth and nose with your hand.  You’re trying not to breathe so loud, in fear that he’ll hear you. Hell, you’re not trying to breathe at all. There’s a high chance that he’ll throw you out of a moving vehicle. Blow this truck up, too, if you’re really unlucky. 

You force your body to sit still, even though all you want to do is bounce your leg up and down anxiously. Under your gear, your skin is prickled with goosebumps. You’re still trying to get your body back. It still doesn’t feel like yours. It’s probably left in the vault, incinerated with the rest of Val’s shit. 

Bucky smelled exactly the same as you remembered. Even with you trying not to breathe, even with your palm covering your nose, you can smell him. 

In this enclosed carriage, with the AC running, you were surrounded by the scent of Bucky. The familiar smell of cedarwood mixed with honeyed soap and a hint of coffee. There’s the extra layer of leather and metal that he always carries around with him that you adore, and the underlying nostalgic scent of his natural skin– the heady scent of musk and salty sweat after the theatrics he had pulled on the road hours ago.

Gunpowder clings onto him faintly, and you can feel heat softly radiating from his body– the vibranium arm attached to his left side is still cooling down. It takes longer on hotter days like this. You wonder when the last time he calibrated it, or if he even remembered to get that done. He would always forget. You used to do it for him.

There’s one smell that’s missing.

The scent of you on his skin.

You closed your eyes, pushing the revelation far away from your mind. Your eyes are beginning to sting with unshed tears that you thought had long been cried away. You didn’t think being close to him like this would have this kind of effect on you again.

“Your hair is longer.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat, your eyebrows furrowing. You slowly turn your head to look at him. To really look at him.

You’ve seen him on the news. On your phone, in articles. You would smile to yourself before moving on with your day, happy that he seemed to find his place in the world. But right now— he looked miserable.

The years had seemed to take a toll on him. There were lines on his face that weren’t there before. Slight bags under his eyes that indicated he hadn’t slept well in a while. His skin was duller, less life to them. 

You wonder briefly if it’s because of dealing with the government in the way he is. Politics aren’t an easy feat, but he’s Bucky. You don’t doubt that he’s doing well, that he can manage somehow. He was always the better one between the two of you. 

Bucky’s hair was a bit messy, but you would give him the benefit of the doubt, and say it was from the fact he just rode in on a motorcycle and took down several military vehicles by himself. The dark brown locks are longer, too. Not short, like the way you had cut them in your bathroom in Brooklyn after Steve left. 

How he trusted you with scissors close to his face and neck, and closed his eyes while you carefully took care of him. You even shaved down his beard, and he had stubble for a while. It had all grown out now. 

Yet, Bucky was more handsome than you could recall. 

The years of absence had only made your heart grow fonder for him. You wanted nothing more than to smooth the line between his eyebrows. You wanted to slap a face mask on his face, dose him with melatonin, and ask him why the hell he hadn’t been sleeping. You want to wrap him up with blankets and play with his hair, run your fingers against his scalp, and cradle his face in your hands as you hold him close. 

You don’t tell him that. You don’t have any right to. 

“That’s what happens when you don’t cut it,” is what you said instead.

A smile cracked onto his lips, and a small chuckle rumbled through his body. “You don’t say?”

You take in a breath so slow it doesn’t shake, and return your eyes back to your window. You don’t trust yourself to keep looking at him. Your tears might fall if you do. You swallowed the lump in your throat, and cleared your throat softly. 

“You look good,” Bucky said after a few more moments, breaking the silence once again.

“I was just in a car that got blown up, so I don’t really believe that,” you muttered, fighting the smile that threatened to creep up on your face. 

“I didn’t know you were in there,” he said, almost sounding defensive. 

“If you did, would you have used that disc grenade?” you murmured. 

“Of course not,” he replied immediately. 

You paused, confusion settling deep into your bones. Why not? This man was supposed to hate you. He made that clear when he walked away from you. The words were caught on your throat, a million scenarios racing through your mind as you tried to pick apart your last conversation. You couldn’t make sense of him. 

“I didn’t know you worked for Val,” he said, changing the topic. Then, a deep sigh escaped from his lips. “Well, I didn’t know where you went at all. No one did.”

“You told me to get lost,” you reminded him, your voice so soft you were certain a normal person wouldn’t have been able to hear you. But he wasn’t normal. He was your Bucky, and he was always able to pick up every single shift in your mood. 

“I didn’t—“ he cut himself off, swallowing thickly. “I was mad. I didn’t mean it.”

You’re numb. Your chest hurt. Your sternum was caving in on itself, you think. It had to be. Or your head was finally experiencing some sort of tumor pressing on your brain, and this was your last hallucination before you died.

Bucky wouldn’t say these words to you. There was no reality that you would exist in where he would even tolerate speaking to you again, let alone admit that he took back the words he spat in your face with pure malice. 

“That’s not what you said when you walked away,” you managed to force out. 

“I know what I said.” The grip Bucky had on the steering wheel tightened at the same time his jaw clenched. 

Heavy silence sits like a wall between the two of you. You don’t respond. You don’t know what to say. He continues to drive, not another word leaving his lips. The two of you listen to the muffle conversation from the group in the back, listening to them bond over the weapons they carry on their persons. 

You lean your head against the headrest, closing your eyes tight. You forced air to enter and exit your lungs. 

One more mission. Just one more, and you can leave. Maybe Oregon would be too local— Bucky’s reach would be able to grab you from there. You’ll leave the country as a whole. 

Bucky’s eyes fell on everyone in the attic, heart erratic in his chest. His eyebrows furrowed, taking a quick headcount. He barely whispered out your name, a bit breathless from having to fight his way out to even get to Bob’s room. 

“Where is she?” he asked, everyone turning to him. They’re all still trying to process their own horrors. 

“I— I haven’t seen her yet,” Walker stuttered, still disoriented.

“She’s here?” Bob asked, surprise all over his features. 

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed, turning back towards the mirror that he came from, ignoring the shouts from the group he left behind. “Just wait there!”

Bucky raced back through his rooms, trying to find an entrance towards yours. He ignored his horrors— he’d already made his peace and settled with himself. He knew you still struggled. 

Back in Wakanda, when he finally managed to find his voice, he’d asked you why you spent so much time helping him. You told him that there was no one there to help you. Over time, he learned. 

You opened up to him about your militaristic freak of a family back in Wakanda. You told him about how you were raised in a camp, not a home. 

You grew up with drills that your parents put you through from the second you could walk. You had a gun in your hand the moment your hands were strong enough to grip the metal. 

You were the middle child of three, and the three of you were raised to see each other as competition. You fought each other daily. You were tested and tortured. Whoever was deemed the winner of the day was spared the punishment of your parents. The two losers would be subjected to horrors that you couldn’t even repeat to Bucky. He never asked you to elaborate. 

One day, without warning, your parents dropped you all in the middle of the forest. Another training exercise, you all thought. You were wrong. 

Only one would survive this test— this sick and twisted game. You never told Bucky the details of how you came out the winner, of how everything went down. He knew the aftermath. 

How you killed your own parents out of revenge, grief, anger— and how they both praised you for it. They told you you were perfect. You were the best soldier they raised— that this was the outcome they wanted. That their death was exactly what they planned for. You fell right into their trap without knowing it. 

Bucky finally reached the first room, eyes focused on the woods. He would get the backstory today, it seemed. His eyes fell on you.

You were younger. Your hair was longer than it was right now, braided back into two and reaching down to your hips. You were dressed in camo, face painted to blend in with the woods. You had a sniper rifle strapped to your shoulder, and a pistol in your hand. Your jaw was clenched tight, your breaths slow and even. 

Another dead body lay right beside you— your older brother’s body. He just tried killing your little sister by stabbing her to death with his brute strength. You shot him clean in the head. His eyes were still wide open, his blood soaking into the dirt of the forest beneath him.

You saved your little sister from him, but for what? You two were in a standoff. Both of you, guns drawn, pointed at each other. All for a fucking game. A hunt. All because your parents pit you together because you had the misfortune of being born into this kind of family.

Your little sister was the spitting image of you. Her cheeks were slightly fuller, eyes a bit rounder. She looked a little bit more innocent. 

Her hand was shaking. Her breaths were a bit more shallow than yours. There was a hesitant look in her eyes, and you saw it. You saw the way your sister lowered her gun, just slightly. 

“I can’t do it,” you whispered, a tear sliding down your face and ruining the camouflage paint. Quickly, you shifted your gun to point at your own temple.

Bucky watched as your sister’s eye’s filled with pure panic, fear— and her hand shifted slightly. She raised her gun once more. Her trajectory changed, and two gunshots filled the forest. 

One, to shoot your gun out of your hand. The second, to shoot herself. 

Grief immediately filled your features as a scream ripped through your throat. Birds were disrupted from their hiding places in the trees, rustling out of the leaves and taking to the sky. 

Her body dropped to the forest floor as you rushed to grab her, pressing your hand to her wound as you cried. You were trying to stop the bleeding, even though you knew nothing you did would work. You knew she was dying in your arms.

“No, no, no, no!” you kept repeating, taking the pack off your back to try and find something to help her. 

Your sister grabbed your hands with the last of her strength, stopping you. You both knew your attempts were useless. You both studied the anatomy of the body— she knew exactly where she shot was fatal.

“It’s okay,” she forced out, meeting your eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you babbled to her, cradling her face. “I’m so sorry— I’m sorry—“

“I love you,” she croaked, giving you a smile. 

You only sobbed louder, watching the light die out of her eyes. You collapsed over her body, trembling, and holding her tight against you until her blood stained your bones and mixed into your own. 

And the scene replayed. 

Bucky moved into the next room. He paused— he recognized this room. This was Steve’s apartment. He went through Steve’s things after the last battle, after Steve made his choice. 

The sound of the door opening caught his attention, and he turned. 

“I’m just saying, doll,” Steve said, letting you in first before he followed in behind you, “the movie was good. You’re just not a hopeless romantic.”

“I am a hopeless romantic,” you fired back, taking your shoes off and putting them on the rack. “It just wasn’t realistic. She chose a broke man for what, Steve? Made no sense.”

“She chose the one she loved, baby,” Steve corrected. 

“And he’s broke,” you replied. 

Steve sighed, shaking his head. Still, he had a smile on his face as he watched you. There was pure love in his eyes for you.

You had a bouquet of flowers in your hand that Steve took from you as you shrugged your jacket off. You smiled at him, grateful. When you took the flowers back, you stepped up on your toes to press a kiss onto his lips.

Steve’s hand came around the small of your back, holding you tight against him. Your free hand came around to hold the side of his neck, stabilizing yourself against him. There were smiles on both of your faces. When you parted, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you hummed in happiness. 

Bucky tried to ignore the way his chest tightened at the sight. 

You moved towards the kitchen, looking for a vase as Steve turned on the lights of your shared apartment. A normal night for the two of you. You arranged the flowers beautifully, looking happy with yourself as you placed them at the center of the dining table.

Bucky was momentarily confused. It looked normal enough. What was so shameful about this night? The two of you looked happy. You both got ready for the night, changed into pajamas, and met back onto the couch.

You were cuddled up against his side as he watched TV, scrolling through your phone. His arm was around you, rubbing circles into your hip. 

“You really think you’re a hopeless romantic?” Steve suddenly asked you.

“Why are you bringing this up again?” you asked, a teasing lilt to your voice. You shifted your head to look up at him. 

“I mean… I just don’t see it,” he said softly. “I’m not saying you’re not romantic. I know you love me, but… I can’t help but feel—“

“Steve,” you cut him off, sitting up. His arm slid off of you and he turned to look you in the eyes. “Are we talking about this again? Seriously?”

“We never even really talked about it,” he argued, his voice a bit weak. He knew you were getting upset. “You always dodge the topic. You don’t want to talk about it.”

“Because there’s nothing to talk about!” you exclaimed, putting your phone down to give him your full attention. “I don’t want to argue about what if’s with my boyfriend on our third year anniversary!”

“You don’t even cut your hair anymore,” he said. “Natasha told me that you drunkenly confessed to her one time that you don’t want to cut your hair because he once told you he wanted to see your hair long—“

“Steve, didn’t you hear what I just said to you? I don’t want to argue with you on our anniversary!” you stressed, almost begging him. “Can you please drop it? On any other night, I will talk about this with you. Literally any other night. Just not tonight, please.”

“Tell me the truth,” he said, his voice hard as he ignored your pleas. “If Bucky were still here, would you still be with me? Or would you have chosen him instead?”

“Would you choose me or Peggy if you had the option?” you immediately demanded from him.

Steve’s eyes widened. Your apartment was silent for a few moments, save for the background noise of the television that was forgotten by the two of you. You both stared at each other. Steve in disbelief, you with stubbornness in your eyes. 

“That’s— that’s not fair,” he whispered, swallowing thickly. 

Your exterior cracked instantly. Stubbornness vanished, and your shoulders slumped. You let out a sigh, burying your face in your hands for a moment as you tried to calm yourself down. You were about to cry. 

“You’re right. It’s not,” you admitted, your voice cracking. You lowered your hands, looking him in the eyes once again. “Why don’t you understand me, Steve? I love you so much. I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t love you. I do. I really do. And— and I know you love her. I have accepted that you will always love her the same way that I will always love him. I loved him in utter silence. From afar. I watched him heal and get better. I loved a broken man that never looked my way and I was okay with that. I made my peace with it. And he’s not coming back. He never fucking will, Steve. I’m trying to move on with my life. Can you stop rubbing it in my face?”

Steve’s staring at you, the weight of your words sinking into his soul. He looks horrible, regret all over his face for even opening up this conversation.

You let out a shaking breath, your chest rising and falling erratically as tears fall from your eyes. You angrily wipe them away, getting up from the couch. 

Steve whispers your name, reaching to grab your wrist, to stop you— to try to comfort you. It comes out pained, but you can’t even look at him. You snatch your hand back from him, making your way to the bedroom you share with Steve, to just get away from him for a moment as more tears continue to fall.

Bucky observes Steve for just a moment, watching his friend bury his face in his hands and let out slow, deep breaths. Then, Bucky moves to follow you.

You’re sitting in front of your vanity, rifling through your drawer. A pair of scissors are in your hands after a moment of searching. You hesitate, for just a moment. Then, you grab a piece of hair, chopping it off above your shoulders as your tears stain your cheeks. 

Bucky forces his feet to walk on, mind racing as he breaks a window into the next room. He knows this place. He instantly recognizes the faint smell of vanilla and flowers. 

His eyes fall onto the glass case of pressed Wakandan flowers that are on the wall, proudly on display. There’s mementos of the Avengers somewhere in your apartment. You have Steve’s art book on the coffee table. Natasha’s widow bites are on the mantle. One of Tony’s first Iron Man helmets are on the shelf. 

Your friends, people that you have loved and lost, all here with you, in your little apartment in Brooklyn. 

And you’re there. Not just the remnants of the past. You.

You’re sitting on the couch of your old Brooklyn apartment in your gear. Your lip is busted from the Sentry throwing you around in the Watchtower not too long ago. There’s a cut above your eyebrow from colliding with John too hard and hitting his gear the wrong way, and maybe a thousand other injuries that he can’t see under the thick material of your tactical gear. 

Your knees are pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around your legs. You look small right now, eyes trained on the movement before you. Unable to tear your gaze away, stuck in the shame and regret of your past. 

And he knows exactly what this night is. 

Bucky doesn’t make a sound as he goes to your side. The couch dips as he takes a seat beside you, eyes on the side of your face. You don’t acknowledge him, don’t even give him the time of day. His chest hurts, but he can’t blame you. 

The stage resets. 

Bucky’s opening your door with a key to your apartment that he’s had for a while now— you have one to his, too. It was for safety at first. Over time, it had turned into easy access to each other for your nightly escapades with each other. 

You jolted at the sudden appearance. You were at the dining table, watching videos on your phone as you ate takeout by yourself. A simple dinner for a quiet night alone. 

Bucky didn’t text you. He didn’t tell you that he was coming over. Normally, he would let you know that he was on his way. Even if the two of you didn’t end up doing anything, he would at least give you a heads up.

“Hey,” you said with a smile, turning to face him. “I thought you were hanging out with Sam tonight—“

“So you fuck me to get over my best friend? Is that it? Is that all I’m good for?”  he demanded, and your smile fell. “Answer me!”

“What?” you whispered, taken aback. “Buck, slow down—“

“You couldn’t even have the decency to tell me that you two were together?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. “I had to find out from fucking Sam?”

“How the hell did Sam know?” you asked, shocked. “Everyone who knew is—“

“Dead? Gone? Off the grid?” he cut you off, a hollow laugh escaping his lips. “Yeah. So you thought you could hide it.”

“Hang on. I wasn’t hiding anything,” you said, standing to face him fully.  

“Do you think you can just use me?” Bucky demanded, shocking you. 

Your eyes widened at the raw emotion. Your lips parted, and you reached a hand out to him. To touch his hand. To try to comfort him, to do something— anything. He smacked it away instantly, shocking you.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he growled at you, and you recoiled instantly, taking a step back.

“Bucky,” you muttered, your voice shaking. “Let’s talk. Please. There’s a misunderstanding here. I wasn’t hiding— There’s nothing to hide.”

“I was at my fucking lowest when Steve left. I thought— I thought it was the same for you. That your friend left you, too. That you were also trying to cope with the grief of losing everyone— everything.” Bucky was shaking, anger coursing through his veins. “That you got no fucking answers— but no. You were fucking me because you were mad that your boyfriend chose a woman he kissed once in the forties over you. And you know what? I don’t blame him.”

You stared at him, mouth agape. Hurt and pain were all over your features. You were trembling, too. But not from anger. You were in shock. 

“Am I disposable to you?” he whispered, your eyes widening.

“No! Of course not—“

“Worthless, then?” he cut you off, voice rising. 

“Bucky, never—“

“Because I feel pretty fucking worthless right now,” he told you, meeting your eyes. His voice was trembling, eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

You can’t speak a single word to him. Your eyes are searching all over his face, and you’re silently pleading with him to try to understand you. To remind him that he knows you. That he knows who you are and that you would never—

“You used me,” he said, swallowing thickly. 

“No,” you denied, your voice small.

“You’re no fucking better than H.Y.D.R.A.. Using my body for what you want, just to throw me away later.”

“No,” you said again, begging. “Bucky, no—“

“I’ll show you what it’s like to be used.”

Bucky grabbed you by the arm, dragging you into your bedroom. The door slammed shut a moment later, and it started all over again. 

On the couch, Bucky takes a moment to look at you. You have your chin on your knees. You’re exhausted. 

“How many times have you watched this?” Bucky finally asked you, leaning back against the couch cushions. 

“I don’t know,” you whispered, and Bucky feels his heart shattering in his chest. 

He drags a hand down his face, taking a deep breath before he forces himself to his feet. He stepped in front of you, blocking your view from himself as the memory of a younger, stupider him started to blame you for shit that he couldn’t work out on his own. 

Bucky kneels down, going eye level with you. You still were looking past him, watching the last fight between the two of you.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice soft. 

“Where?”

“To save the world. Where else?” he tried joking with you.

“I’m not interested in saving the world, Bucky,” you whispered back, shaking your head. “I’m so tired.”

Bucky let out a sigh, closing his eyes for just a moment. He looks down at the floor, racking his brain for something. Anything. 

“How about the bakery we used to go to every Sunday morning?” he offered, then saw your eyes flicker towards his direction. “They have a new mocha cake flavor. I haven’t tried it yet. Have you?”

“I haven’t been there in years,” you revealed. Your fingers absentmindedly picked at your thigh holsters, just to busy yourself a little bit. One of your anxious habits. 

Bucky moved to rest his hand over yours, forcing your eyes to meet his once more. Forcing you to look at him again. 

“Really? I go there all the time,” he told you. “I sit there and drink an iced coffee and order that loaded croissant you first got me when we went together. You know— the one with the jalapeños and bacon bits.”

“… Why?” you asked, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Because I miss you,” he answered, the confession leaving his lips without any hesitation. “You… You left so fast. I came back here two days later. Your apartment was already up for lease. Your number was disconnected. Your cards were turned off. It’s like you never existed.”

“I don’t get why you would care so much,” you muttered, looking away from him as you pulled your hand away.

Bucky caught it once again, intertwining his fingers with yours. Your name fell from his lips, your eyes meeting his in surprise. He said it so tenderly. So gently. With affection that he had kept guarded in a box locked up and tucked away.

“Can I get another chance, please?” he whispered, and your eyes widened slightly. Bucky wet his lips, letting out a shaking breath. “You told me that you would give me as many chances as I needed. And I fucked up badly on this night.”

“It was my fault for not telling you,” you whispered back. “You felt betrayed. I— I didn’t tell you.”

“I didn’t hear you out,” he said, shaking his head. “I should’ve.”

You stared at him. Bucky watched as you searched his face for answers that you needed years ago, answers that he should have provided you with when he had the chance, when he had you in his arms but was too afraid to tell you how he felt. 

“I will repent for the rest of my life for what I said and did to you,” he promised, squeezing your hand. “This will be the last battle, I swear. If you want me to leave you alone after this, I will. But we have to go. I can’t leave you in here to watch this shit show over and over again.”

Relief surged through his body as you shifted, your feet moving to touch the ground. You stood, and Bucky led you out of your last shame room, and back towards everyone else. 

“Let me do it,” Bucky sighed, taking the antiseptic from your shaking hands. “Sit down on the bench.”

You didn’t fight him. You had no more fight left in your body. From pulling Bob out of the void, to the press monstrosity outside— you were completely spent. 

The Watchtower was a mess. Glass was everywhere, furniture was broken, but at least there was a well functioning medical bay. The entire group of you were in here, all of you licking your wounds as you all tried to make sense of the last twenty-four hours of your life. 

The stinging pain of alcohol pulled you out of your thoughts as Bucky pressed the cleaning agent into your wounds, and your eyebrow furrowed in pain.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s fine. Are… are you okay?” you asked, mustering the courage to look up at his face. 

Truth be told, his injuries had mostly cleared up by now. Just as they always had. But you’re not asking about that, and he knows you’re not.

“I’ll probably enroll into therapy again, if you want me to set you up with someone, too,” he joked. 

“I didn't even tell you everything,” you said, frowning at him. “What makes you think I’ll tell a stranger?”

“Well, I didn’t even tell my therapist everything. I was thinking of dumping everything on Sam, actually. Make it his problem,” Bucky shrugged. 

You paused, thinking it over. “Sounds like a good idea, actually. I haven’t talked to him in a while… Might be good for me to reach out.”

“You should. He asks about you, every once in a while. Asked if I’ve heard from you— even if it’s a whisper or a rumor,” Bucky said, his voice soft. “He misses you, too.”

“I didn’t exactly trust Sam to keep my location a secret after he blurted out to you that I was in a relationship with Steve,” you muttered, a scoff escaping your lips. “He knew that we were sleeping together, too. He knew that you and I were doing it because we needed an outlet after everything we lost.”

Bucky’s hands stopped, and he pulled back to look you in the eyes. Shock is all over his face. 

“He knew?” he asked, in disbelief. 

“Bucky— I knew Sam longer than I’ve known you. Of course I told him,” you frowned at him. “And then the asshole went around telling shit that wasn’t his to tell. I still don't know how he knew me and Steve were together, if I'm being honest."

“Would you have told me?” Bucky asked you, and it’s your turn to pause. 

You weigh his words carefully, taking in the look on his face. He’s not mad. Not upset with you. He’s not looking at you the same way Steve did on your anniversary. It’s not accusatory. Bucky’s curious. 

“I would’ve,” you whispered honestly, nodding. “But I didn’t think we would ever progress past just the… sleeping together. So I didn’t think it was worth mentioning. I didn’t want to ruin the little of you that I managed to have. I didn’t realize that I would lose all of you in the process.”

Bucky let out a breath, dragging a hand down his face. Momentarily, you believe you’ve pissed him off with your response. That you’ll get a repeat of that night in your apartment. 

You watched him carefully, your lungs stopping in your chest as you waited for his response. You wait for the explosion, for the yelling, the accusations— then, he looked at you. His eyes meet yours.

Bucky’s still not upset with you. In fact, there’s affection in his eyes that you can’t believe you’re seeing again. He looks the same way he always did when he hovered above you, murmuring praises about how good you were to him. It was the same way he looked when he held you afterwards, making sure that he didn’t hurt you during the time you spent together. 

This was the same way his eyes would light up when you came over to his apartment with food from his favorite restaurant after a particularly bad therapy session. How he sighed in delight and told you that you were the best, and how you always read his mind. 

And, without you knowing, the same way he looked at you in Wakanda as you walked ahead of him with your hair full of flowers that he picked. Flowers that he deemed were good enough to decorate your head, but still not more beautiful than you.

“Can we start over?” Bucky whispered to you, hands moving to cover yours. 

“Start over and do what?” you whispered back, trying to will your voice to stay even. 

“I think that we have a good chance to do this right. You and me,” he said, releasing a breath. “Without grief or trauma defining… us. Defining our relationship— what we are to each other.”

“If there’s no trauma or grief, then what is there?”

“Love, sweetheart. You don’t believe in love? You were pretty adamant when you told Steve you were a hopeless romantic, you know,” he said, a soft teasing tone in his voice as he squeezed your hands. 

You could only let out a laugh in response, shaking your head. You cringed, unable to stop your body from the visceral reaction. You hated that memory- hated that night. You and Steve didn't talk for two days after that fight.

“You saw that? Did you— You saw the whole thing?”

“I saw the entire thing,” he confirmed, nodding. “And I’m sorry. I… I told you that you were using me, and I didn’t even know that you loved me from the start.”

“I hid it from you,” you murmured. “That isn’t your fault.”

“Then let’s call it an oversight on both our ends,” he said, giving you a small smile. 

“Do you really think this could work?” you asked, sighing deeply. “Us?” 

“Hypothetically speaking, yes. Realistically speaking? A thousand percent. But only if you want it. Only if you want me. Only if you’ll allow me to love you in the way that I definitely do not deserve to have you.”

Just like that. 

Bucky isn’t pleading with you. There is no pressure. He had simply opened the door to his heart, and he’s standing on the other side for you to join him. 

The answer is on the tip of your tongue as you feel your eyes sting with emotion. You’ve cried so much in the past day, you’re surprised you haven’t passed out from dehydration. 

Your vision is beginning to blur from your tears as you look at him— look at his face. 

He’s patient. Watching your every move with bated breath. His gaze is gentle, as if he is anticipating and ready to forgive you for rejecting him. 

Your throat is locked up as a tear finally slips down your cheek. Bucky’s eyes never leave yours, but his hand moves to cradle your face. His thumb brushes away the wetness, clearing your face. 

And you nod. Small, subtle, but you know he sees it. He always sees it. He always sees your every move. 

Bucky’s shoulders drop, relaxed as he reaches for you, arms wrapping around you. He’s holding you to his chest, and you can hear it— the inconsistent sound of his heart beating in his chest. You can feel the anxiety in his bones as he keeps you firm in his grasp, head tucked under his chin. 

A moment later, you bring your own arms around his torso, fingers clutching onto his shirt tight. Bucky shifts, pressing a series of kisses to the top of your head. 

You close your eyes, allowing yourself to finally melt into his arms. Years of yearning and silent love has brought you here, with him. The pain is still present, but is beginning to chip away with each of his words as you listen to him whisper to you—

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll make you happy this time.”

“Thank you. I don't deserve you- but thank you.”

“I love you.”

masterlist

taglist: @duacruel @natsomens @decthaxhrcv @shortandb1tchy @iyskgd @ifuckwithyouanyday @miss-chuchu @bighappypiels @snnoopyy @messrkarmaismygf13 @thebuckybarnesvault @aekzla @simp4f1 @its-in-the-woods @lvrrinx @herejustforbuckybarnes @djotummy

[megsbr]

+ = smut, ^ = fluff, * = angst

✰ bucky barnes

these moment with you ^

[megsbr]

These Moments With You

pairing: 1940s!bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: It's the morning Bucky is leaving for the war and you are savoring every second together while reminiscing on how you got here

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, fluff, domestic bucky, kissing, established relationship, reader is steve’s sister (I think..), best friend’s sister, talk of marriage

word count: 6.6k

note from megs: hii! this is my first Bucky fic and I don’t know if y’all will like it but please let me know if you do! and feel free to send me messages, prompts, anons, etc. <3 (also I’m not entirely confident on how the draft works so just go with it) (gif not mine)

The softest rays of sunlight danced across skin as the morning came into view. Limbs tangled in one another like wires that were destined to be intertwined forever. The sound of birds chirping and the hustle of the morning commuters could be heard in the distance, but this room paid no mind to the outside world.

Bright blue eyes scanned over the soft skin on an exposed shoulder like it was the most marvelous work of art in a museum. Fingertips slid up and down a thigh with a softness that was almost invisible. The heat radiating off one another was enough to scare away any cold morning wind that might sneak its way in.

These were Bucky’s favorite moments with you. In the soft, quiet morning bliss with no plans and no one coming to interrupt this moment. Just the two of you. Like it always had been and always will be. He often woke up before you and he was grateful for the time to sit in your presence and just admire you. No matter how many times he woke up next to you, he would never get over the view.

He loved the way your nose scrunched up every now and then when you slept and how you always stayed as close as possible to him in your sleep. Not that it was much different when you were awake. Your hair was all over the place but he made sure to push a few strands out of your face so he could look at you uninterrupted. Bucky had always been obsessed with you. Others said he looked at you like it was the last time he might ever get the chance. No one ever seemed to call him a romantic until they saw the two of you together and then no one could deny the hold you had over him. He would move buildings for you. Move across the country for you. Go to wars for you, whether he had the choice or not.

_____ He was recently reminded of the day you two met. His family had just moved in down the street from yours and when his mom saw that a young boy sat in a nearby front yard she pushed Bucky to go introduce himself with a tray of cookies. Despite being in a completely new region of the country Bucky walked around as if he had lived here his whole life. He had never been a kid who got nervous or didn’t know what to say. He knew how to charm an older lady at the grocery store or volunteer to read in front of the whole class. Nothing was able to shake Bucky Barnes the way you were about to.

He walked across the road with too much confidence for a young boy as he introduced himself to the blond, scrawny boy playing with a military plane toy. “Hi, my name is Bucky. Thought we could be friends.” He was very point blank with what he wanted as a kid, never liked beating around the bush. The other boy was too shy to say no so he said nothing as Bucky grabbed the other plane on the ground and started asking questions about it. In talking with his friend, he had revealed that he was the oldest of four kids and was jealous that his new friend was an only child. Before the smaller boy could correct him they were interrupted by the sound of footsteps running out towards them.

Bucky heard a voice calling his new friend in for dinner at the request of their mom. As he looked up from the toy in his hand and he met your eyes the world came to a halt, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Even at that young of an age, Bucky suddenly understood what love felt like. You had the brightest smile he had ever seen, and he was already thinking of all the jokes he could rattle off to make sure it never left your face.

He was barely able to introduce himself to you, nerves taking over his small body in a way they never had before. All the cockiness he felt walking over here from being the older, taller and mysterious new kid was gone. “H-hi. Bucky. My name. My name is Bucky.” He stuttered over every word as if he had never said them before. You looked at him with curious eyes and a kind smile as you introduced yourself and quickly ran away after telling your brother to come inside.

As the years went on and Bucky grew up, he always kept his eyes on the young girl down the street. As he grew up and entered high school where he found more friends, joined sports and got the attention of plenty of girls he only ever thought of you. As he grew into his body and personality he was slowly able to stop acting like a fool when he passed by you in the hallway or came by your house to pick up your brother for some party they were going to.

His heart always skipped a beat when you were the one who opened the door, eyes bright and smile wide like you were just as excited to see him. You were his favorite part of the day every day because he felt the most comfortable and seen with you. There were more and more of those fleeting moments on the front porch or the side glances at each other from opposite sides of sidewalk as the three of you walked home from school as you both drowned out your brother’s tangent on some new film. Slowly but surely you spent more and more time talking at the front door before alerting your brother that his friend was there. You would walk a bit slower on the way home, hanging in the back together as your hands brushed each other’s.

Bucky was head over heels in love with you since the day he met you and he never spared anyone else a glance. A few girls had tried to dance with him a few times and despite how uninterested he was, he was still a gentleman, so he respectfully led them out to the floor, but he constantly looked over his shoulder to make sure you weren’t looking.

He finally mustered up the courage to ask you out that summer before senior year. When he knocked on the front door and you answered with a greeting so warm it felt like home he suddenly lost all his words. You were just so pretty and happy to see him that he got so in his head that he blurted out his proposal while you were mid-sentence.

His face turned bright red, and he was ready to walk away and never look back, but you said yes without missing a beat, face lighting up at the idea. You had such an ease about you that he never seemed to have himself when he was around you. He mumbled out that he’d pick you up at seven as he tripped down the front steps from staring at you. The giggle you let out at his expense gave him butterflies as you shut the door.

There must have been hearts in his eyes the whole back to his house. Unknown to him, you were just as lovestruck when you had gone back in the house, leaning your back against the door as you shut your eyes in bliss and sighed at the thought of the beautiful boy who you were in love with. You rushed upstairs to start finding the perfect outfit to wear and after looking through your whole closet it seemed like that didn’t exist.

You had been enamored with Bucky Barnes, the neighborhood flirt, your brother’s best friend, for years. After you met him for the first time you ran away as fast as you did because you couldn’t keep your giggles in from how cute you thought he was. That night you wrote his name in your diary and put yours next to it, liking how they looked together.

He was always nice to you; he listened to anything you wanted to talk about and never seemed to look down on you for being his friend’s little sister. And his eyes. You thought about his eyes every moment of the day from the moment you woke up to the moment you got to fall asleep and dream about them some more. When you locked eyes with him from across the room or in the hallway when he’d spend the night and you both wanted a glass of water, you felt like you could get lost in that blue for eternity.

You often went out of your way to end up in his path just in hopes he’d spare you a glance and maybe a slight smile. Taking a more inconvenient route to class because he was in those hallways or asking your mom to force your brother to bring you with him to hang out with Bucky. And when he mentioned an actress he liked one time, you started to style your hair the same way as her and almost passed out when he complimented you on it one day. You did whatever you could to get his attention and tried to establish yourself a girl worthy of his time and not as the neighbor girl who had never had a boy like her.

And the rebellious side of you loved that he was your brother’s best friend. There was a forbidden feeling to him that only made you want him more. He was known around town as more of a bad boy, for reason unknown to you because there was not a bad bone in his body. He acted like a bit of flirt here and there and maybe skipped school a few times but was otherwise the kindest and most loyal person you knew. You knew he did well in school but kept it a secret to come off a bit cool to everyone else and maintain his ‘image’. But he never acted like that around you, always opting to spew random facts and show his goofy, unpolished side that you adored.

And you loved the way he was so protective of your brother, saving him from the bullies and real troublemakers of town, and it made you fall more in love with him every day. And the time he carried all your books to and from school when you had broken your arm had you seeing stars from how fast your heart raced. And when he saved you from the deep end of the pool once when you drifted too far as a young girl. And now he asked you on a date.

He showed up exactly at seven with three bouquets of flowers because he couldn’t pick just one that was pretty enough for you. His hands shaking so much as he shoved them in his pockets to hide his nerves. He thought you were breathtaking as you stepped outside in what he now believed to be the best shade of pink just because you wore it.

You two walked to a local diner, one of the only places Bucky could afford with his weekly allowance, but you assured it was fine. He made sure to walk on the outside of the sidewalk and kept cracking jokes to keep it lighthearted and dissolve any awkward silences. But it was never awkward between the two of you. Not when you sat in silence as your eyes scanned the menu trying to decide what to order or when Bucky nervously drank his coke too fast and got bubbles in his nose which cause him to start coughing uncontrollably.

Bucky eventually took ahold of your hand from across the table and kept it there the rest of the night, which caused your stomach to flip as you tried not to show too much excitement. from the public display of affection.  He had offered up the idea of sharing a milkshake, claiming “he had to give you the best first date ever” and “this what they do in the movies, so we have to do it as well”. When the drink came and you both leaned in towards your respective straws it seemed like you both underestimated how close you’d be. Neither of you touched the straws yet opting to just stop and stare into each other’s eyes.

The diner was empty by this point of the night but there could have been a hundred people in there and you’d pay them no notice. It seemed like the rest of the world had disappeared and you only knew each other. You could feel his breath on your face and took notice of his eyes as they flickered down to your lips once. And then twice.

Just as you were about to say something his hand came up to cup your cheek as he closed the distance between you. The kiss was soft and innocent and filled with years of longing and dreaming. Your eyes fluttered shut as you took in everything about him, from the softness of his lips to the smell of his aftershave, and your hand came up to the collar of his button down shirt to pull him in even closer to you. You felt like you were floating as he somehow deepened the kiss. Just as you felt like you were going lightheaded, whether it be from the fact you were kissing Bucky Barnes or the lack of oxygen or both, you were interrupted by the waitress clearing her throat.

You pulled away first to turn your attention to the woman, but Bucky stayed put for a few seconds longer, eyes still shut and lips slightly parted, seemingly stunned at what just happened before he finally came back down to Earth. The waitress informed you they were closing, and you needed to leave, showing no interest in the young love before her. You guys scrambled out of the torn up booth as Bucky threw some bills on the table before you tugged his arm behind you, you both giggling as you ran out of the door.

You both spent the whole walk home laughing at the angry look the waitress had on her face. Bucky repeatedly mocked her voice when she told you both to leave and you laughed harder each time, tears welling up in your eyes. His arm was around your shoulders, and you were leaning into his chest, head dropping on his shoulder every few minutes as you let out the loudest laughs that were starting to hurt your abdomen.

As you got closer and closer to your house you finally realized how late it was and how much trouble you were going to be in for staying out past curfew. “Bucky, we have to hurry home now. My parents are going to kill me.” You managed to get out in between laughs, Bucky unable to take you seriously as you sounded like you were struggling to breathe.

“Don’t worry darlin’, your parents love me. I’ll smooth it over.” And you knew he would. He was the smoothest guy you knew. So smooth that you were sure your face was bright red from the nickname he just used. As you walked up the steps to your house, stopped in front of the door and stood underneath the soft yellow hue of the porch light you felt your heart twisting in your chest at the idea of the night ending.

And Bucky felt the same way as he held both of your hands in his much bigger ones. He enjoyed every minute of getting to be alone with you and getting to have all your attention. You were worth every dollar he saved up for dinner and any punishment he might get for staying out past curfew from his own parents. He knew in this moment that he would do anything for you and never wanted to let you go.

As you were saying something along the lines of thanking him for the evening he moved towards you to connect his lips to yours for the second time that night. This kiss grew much needier and passionate than the one back at the diner. He was hungry for you but not in an animalistic way but in a lustful and desperate way. He needed every part of you and wanted to give every part of himself right back to you.

After the shock from his sudden advancement, you leaned into the kiss and let Bucky take the lead as he grabbed either side of your face and moved you against the side of the house, pinning you there. Your hands found their way around his neck and that allowed you to pull his body closer to yours as if you were preparing for someone to come take him away. This moment felt too good to be true and you’d never forgive yourself if you let some cruel force of nature ruin this moment.

You were practically melting in Bucky’s hands as he lightly bit on your lower lip and let out an almost indiscernible groan as you parted your mouth and allowed his tongue to move in. His much larger build was towering over you, and it felt like he was completely engulfing you, but you loved it. It felt like you were out there forever, just basking in each other’s love and hiding in the darkness of the night, away from the world.

When Bucky finally pulled away and took in a large breath you already missed the feeling of him on you. You could compare kissing Bucky to needing oxygen and you were afraid that when it came to it, you could do without the latter. You both took a second to steady your breathing before deciding it was finally time to face the wrath of your parents.

Bucky took a few steps back, admiring your movements as you pulled out your key and put it in the lock. “I think I am falling in love you.” He breathed out just as you were turning back around to face him. A dazzling smile made its way to your face as you jumped into him, arms finding their spot back around his neck. He instantly wrapped his around your figure and laid his head on yours. You turned into the crook of his neck, placing a light kiss on the edge of his jaw, feeling him shiver beneath your touch. “I think I am falling in love with you too.” You whispered it like a secret into the night, not wanting to risk anyone else hearing this proclamation beside the young man before you.

There were many more dates after that. Countless nights of Bucky climbing the side of your house and sneaking into your room. Morning kisses before departing ways for class. You went to prom together and got voted cutest couple in the school yearbook. He stayed by your side through both of your parent’s deaths and did everything to keep your spirits up and help you through your grief.

It was you and Bucky. Always had been and always will be. You were each other’s future.

_____

Bucky was taken out of his trance when you started to stir awake. His full attention back on you as you opened your eyes and found his immediately. He gave you a soft smile as he took in your beauty once again and planted a kiss on your nose.

You sighed in content as you smiled back at him before the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. This was the last morning you’d be waking up together for a long time. Or for the last time. Your face dropped and your demeanor turned sour as you turned yourself away from Bucky, not wanting him to see you cry.

As soon as his arms wrapped around you from behind the tears started falling and sobs raked through your body at an alarming rate. “Baby please, it’s okay. I promise it will all be okay.” Bucky tried to calm you down but nothing he said worked so he opted for just pulling you into his chest and resting his head slightly on top of you, keeping his cheek pressed to yours, occasionally planting kisses on your shoulder and wiping away tears that kept falling.

“This isn’t okay Bucky. Nothing about this is fair or okay. I am losing you.” This caused Bucky to sit up against the headboard, pick you up and settle you in his lap. You instantly curl up into him and lay on his chest, your tears immediately soaking his t-shirt.

“Sweetheart, you are not losing me. I am not leaving you in the slightest. I just have to go away for a while.” His attempt at consoling you still unsuccessful and just causing you to cry harder at the idea of having to see him walk away from you. You could already feel your heart being ripped out of your chest at the thought of being so far away from him.

Bucky was your reason for everything. Your reason for waking up. Your reason for going outside. Your reason for getting pretty and put together. You did it all for him and because of him. To say Bucky was your soulmate was the understatement of the century. “I’m going to miss you so much.” You say as if you haven’t already a million times since he got his deployment orders.

You both remember that day well. The day you found out he’d be leaving. That he’d be leaving you.

_____

You were shivering as you stood in front of the movie theater looking up and down the block for the boy who planned this date. It was a cold December night and Bucky had offered to meet you for a date to see a new film that night at six o’clock. At least you swore it was tonight. You wrote it down in your calendar as soon as you planned it and you triple checked the day, so you knew you were right.

The wind whipped around you as you hugged your coat tighter around your frame. It was getting dark, and you were alone with no way of knowing where your boyfriend was.

“Excuse me, do you have the time?” You leaned forward to ask an older couple walking slowly past you. They were walking hand and hand and almost didn’t hear what you asked because they were so enthralled by their conversation. “It’s half past six dear.” The older gentleman gave you a slight nod and a soft smile after looking at his watch. You glanced back at them as they strolled down the block together, your heart swelling up at the love in their faces. It gave you hope that you and Bucky would be like that one day.

If you didn’t kill him first for flaking on your date.

Bucky had never, in the two years of dating, ever missed a date or arrived a minute late. Especially if he was meeting you somewhere, never wanting to risk you being alone in town for too long. If anything were to ever happen to you he would never forgive himself. He also knew how lucky he was to be with you and get to call you his so why would he ever miss even a second of getting to be with you? He’d be foolish to ever do something like that to you.

You started the walk back towards your street, stomping right past your house and going straight to Bucky’s. You marched up the steps, your feet feeling as heavy and stiff as bricks because of how cold you were. You knew his family was out of town, so you didn’t bother knocking and just walked right into the house.

The warmth that engulfed you immediately relaxed your muscles and gave you a moment of peace before you were reminded of why you were here in the first place. Your first instinct was to be mad at Bucky, ready to confront him and yell at him for letting you stand out in the harsh Brooklyn winter for over half an hour alone because he overslept or just flat out forgot about you. But another voice in the back of your head kept running through all the worst case scenarios of things that could have happened to him.

You tried not to think about those because you could not stand to entertain the idea that he could be hurt or missing or worse. But maybe that voice knew something you didn’t because the news you were about to receive may have been worse than the idea he was in the hospital with a broken leg.

After walking around the house for a minute you finally found the brunette. He was in the living room and sitting on the edge of the couch, slightly hunched over with his elbows on his knees. His head was resting in one of his hands, his fingers taking over the bottom half of his face as if he was trying to hide. The other was holding what looked like a letter, the opened envelope you assumed it came from was discarded on the floor by his feet.

He was dressed in a typical date night outfit, his coat and shoes on like he was just about to walk out the door before something stopped him. You slowly approached him, the floorboards creaking under your feet that would normally alert him to someone’s presence, but his eyes stayed stuck on the mysterious letter.

“Bucky? Are you okay?” Your voice cut through the silence of the room like a knife. Bucky turned towards you as he dropped the piece of paper and straightened his back out. You were met with bright red eyes filled with tears and rosy cheeks that he only ever got when he was stressed out. You were at his side in an instant and he fell into your arms as he started to let out soft sobs. Wrapping one arm around his large frame, your other reached out for the paper on the ground and brought it up to you.

“Selective Service of the United States of America To the attention of Sargeant James Buchanan Barnes

This letter contains your deployment date and information regarding mandatory military service due to the draft ordered by the President of the United States of America.”

It felt like your world came crashing down as you read through the letter, your own tears falling to mix with tears already on the page from Bucky just a few minutes ago. You knew plenty of your friends whose boyfriends have been shipped off already and you saw the misery they lived every day. You had already seen the military officials walk up to plenty of houses with only bad news. Every morning you read the newspaper with names of people lost. The idea of seeing Bucky’s name felt like it would end you.

“Baby, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry that I have to do this to you.” Bucky cried as if he was sadder for you that he had to leave rather than scared of going to war himself. He was about to walk out the door for your date, stopping to fix his hair in the reflection of the window when he saw two men in uniform walk up the steps.

The first thought he had wasn’t that he was scared to go to a foreign place or that he was going to have people shooting at him. It was that you’d be alone. He wouldn’t be here to protect you. Bucky thought about you sitting here waiting for him and putting your life on pause for him. Stunting yourself in honor of him. But an even worse, crueler thought that flashed through his mind was you moving on. Getting tired of being alone and forgetting all about him. He imagined you falling in love with someone else and living the life he wanted with you himself so badly.

The two of you sat together, crying in each other’s arms for hours as you promised a million things to each other. “I promise I will wait for you.” “I promise to come back to you.” “I promise to love you forever no matter what.” Your date was long forgotten as you moved to go to bed and fall asleep in each other’s arms, holding each other just as tight as you had on your first date when neither of you wanted to let go. Neither of you really fell asleep, but nightmares still flooded both of your thoughts as you watched the night turn into morning. _____

Bucky was now rocking you back and forth a bit as his eyes were locked on his uniform hanging in the closet. He has already gone over a thousand different scenarios where you and him run away together to start a new life on the run from his impending imprisonment. But every time he tried to entertain the idea you shut him down and changed the subject, not wanting to give into any sliver of false hope.

It stayed quiet between the two of you for the rest of the morning as you got ready together. You have done this so many times that you move so easily around each other, already knowing who will step where and when. Bucky handed you your hairbrush and you handed him his comb. Your fingers brushed during the exchange, and it gave you both the same tingly feeling you got when you held hands during a fire drill at school as kids. Small smiles and shoulder bumps were shared as you brushed your teeth next to each like you have for every morning since moving into together after high school.

You let out shaky breaths as Bucky zipped his camo green duffel bag closed and slung it over his shoulder. He was stood up straight and had a questioning look on his face as you stared him down. He gestured his eyes down and put his arm not holding his duffel straight out and did a slow spin. “So, how do I look? Is everything in order?” He had the smallest smirk creeping up on his lips as he fished for a compliment, knowing that despite the situation, you loved how he looked in his full military get-up.

“You look like my perfect military man.” You stepped towards him to plant a quick, soft kiss on his lips and gave him a forced smile before turning on your heels and leaving the room. Bucky’s face dropped a bit, the reminder of how hard this was for you hitting him in the gut. He knew you were trying your best to remain positive in front of him, but he felt helpless. Bucky prided himself on always being able to lift your spirits. When you had the flu, he kept you company with all your favorite snacks and watched all your television shows with you. And when you and your brother got into a fight about something stupid he let you vent everything out on your date that night and kept letting you order more milkshakes. He even held your hair back as you threw them all up in the toilet that night.

But as the two of you silently walked up to the line of buses waiting to whisk him away there was nothing he could have done to stop the wheels in your head that were turning at alarming rates. He watched as your eyes darted around to all the women crying in the hands of their own military men that they were about to bid a farewell to just like you. He watched young children hug their father’s goodbye before they stepped away. Moms and dads waving goodbye to their sons who barely looked 18. It was a horrible sight but nothing broke Bucky’s heart more than you looking up at him, tears rolling down your cheeks and nose red from how many times you have rubbed a handkerchief over it.

“Last names starting with A through C report to buses 1 and 2 in five minutes!” A voice yelled out over an intercom just as you and Bucky approached the parking lot. He handed his duffel over to man covered in medals and watched as it got thrown into a pile of identical ones. The internal countdown started in your mind as the last few moments with Bucky passed you by.

Bucky grabbed your hand and pulled you to the outside of the crowd, away from the loud roaring of the buses’ engines and the depressing sobs from every direction. Your eyes were drifting through the scene in front you again before Bucky grabbed your face on either side and pulled you back to him. “There’s my beautiful girl.” He whispered as he connected his eyes with yours and dropped his hands from your face to grab your hands from your sides.

“I wanted to ask you something before I leave. If you’ll let me.” His voice stayed low as he dug his hand in his pocket, his eyes still on yours the whole time. You watched as he took a step back from you and started to take a knee in front of you. Your hand came up to cover your mouth as you let out a gasp at the sight in front of you. As Bucky steadied himself, he was now holding a small black box in front you.

Bucky let out a shaky breath, “I know this is a little last minute, but I wanted this moment to have a happy component for us. I can’t let the last time you see me for a while be one of the worst moments of your life.” He let out a soft chuckle as he repeated the words you said a few days ago back to you. You had a few too many drinks and had gotten a little too honest with how much you had thought of your last moments together. You had already called this moment the worst moment of your life before it had even happened. But Bucky already seemed to have other plans to make sure that didn’t happen.

“I have loved you for so long I can’t remember what life was before. But a life without you is only allowed to exist in my nightmares because now that I have you I never want to let you go.” Bucky had opened the little black box to reveal a thin gold band with an oval diamond in middle and two smaller ones around it. It sparked in a way that was almost as beautiful as he thought you were.

“Every time I look at you, all I can think about is our future. And I know you think about our future a lot as well, but you focus so much on what can go wrong. I am just one ordinary man who got lucky enough to be with you so I can’t do much to change the future and change what might happen to us. But no matter what my future holds I know I want you in it.” There were tears streaming down both of your faces at this point, the sound of the minute warning for the buses drowned out in the background. “I don’t think I will ever know how a heart as beautiful and kind and smart as yours could ever find the room to love a messed up man like me, but I will spend the rest of this life trying to become worthy of even a fraction of your love.”

“But what I do know is that I am meant to be wherever you are. So, here I am, James Buchanan Barnes, asking you to marry me and promising you that I will come home to you and give you the life you deserve.”

It felt like your life together flashed before your eyes as you looked down at this man, who was looking up at you as if you were his everything. You felt the butterflies you got when he introduced himself to you for the first time and you got the shiver down your spine from when he touched your lower back trying to get past you at a party once. Every kiss and touch ghosted your whole body as you felt like you were starting to float.

And it also felt like your whole future came rushing at you too. Not the doomed one you often shared on late nights with Bucky when you couldn’t control your racing thoughts. Right now you could only see the moment you get reunited with him as you celebrate the end of the war in the streets. You saw a beautiful house in the suburbs where your kids ran around the backyard with the family dog and Bucky was grilling burgers for dinner as you prepped the salad and set the table. You imagined growing old together and reminiscing on this exact moment as you babysat grandkids.

Bucky eyes grew in size as he nervously glanced over to the men marching towards him, screaming his name and telling him to get a move on. He quickly stood to his feet and took the ring out of the box. He grabbed your left hand and hovered the ring on your finger.

“Don’t want to rush you baby but I kind of need an answer.” That smirk made its way to his face as you looked down at the ring shaking against your hand from Bucky’s own nerves. You already loved the way it looked against your skin and you heart raced knowing that everyone would now know that you were his and he was yours.

“Of course Bucky. I would marry you in every lifetime no matter what.” You rambled your words as fast you could before bringing your right hand to the back of Bucky’s neck and pulling him into you. As your lips connected he slid the ring on to your finger, making sure it sat snug before moving his hands to rest on your waist. Your left hand found your right as you pushed every emotion you could into the kiss. Your hands messed with the ends of hair that had fallen out of his hat and his hands gripped your waist in a way that made you feel like a woman.

In an instant he was ripped away from you and his hands left your waist as he was pulled towards the buses. Despite being taken away, Bucky had the goofiest smirk and lovestruck eyes as he watched you chase after him. His eyes glanced down at the ring sparkling on your finger and his heart swelled up. He knew that no matter what happened next you agreed to marry him and that was the most a man like him could ask for.

Bucky found a seat on the bus and joined the other men in pushing towards a window where he leaned out to reach out to you where you stood below him. He grabbed your hand one last time, his thumb rubbing over the ring he just gave you. He pulled it up to his mouth and left a light kiss on top of the ring just as the bus starting to pull away. You stood on that sidewalk and watched him fade away into the early morning sun, holding your left hand close to your heart.

[buckysleftbicep]

for better or for worse masterlist 𐙚 b.b

you hated him for it. but not nearly as much as you hated yourself for wanting it again.

pairing: new avenger!bucky barnes x fem!reader (fake marriage au)

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, unprotected sex, sexual tension, possessiveness, jealousy, angst, lots of team banter

summary: you and bucky are forced to play newlyweds at a luxury honeymoon resort. he’s controlling, you’re reckless, and now you’re sharing a bed. the problem? it’s getting harder to play pretend. and you’re not sure either of you will survive what comes next.

a/n: hi loves! so, this series has been collecting dust ever since i watched thunderbolts a few weeks ago, but i finally decided to dig it back up and actually finish it, hopefully! i hope you enjoy it!

series playlist

this series is completed 💖

chapter 1 (posted on: 7th june)

chapter 2 (posted on: 9th june)

chapter 3 (posted on: 11th june)

chapter 4 (posted on: 13th june)

chapter 5 (posted on: 15th june)

chapter 6 (posted on: 17th june)

chapter 7 (epilogue) (posted on: 19th june)

[megsbr]

now if I dipped my toe into writing bucky barnes fanfics would anyone care 👀

[braceletsforbey]

All the Dan and Phil stickers currently in my Etsy shop! <3 I'm obsessed with all the designs but I think the phedsheets ones are my favorites.

Orders ship internationally for only $1 and every item sold in my shop goes directly towards paying for my dog's third cancer surgery & continued veterinary care <3

https://braceletsforbey.etsy.com

[megsbr]

I know that I am nobody in here but I am in desperate need of help

I was reading a bucky barnes fic (as one does) but my page reset and I lost it

can’t remember the account or the title and I’m going crazy looking for it

the plot was roughly that bucky went into the multiverse on a mission and ran into a version of the reader who still loved him, bc apparently the current day one didn’t and that’s all I have 😭😭

someone pls help

[antleroom]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor, to the toilet seat, from the dining room table, to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink, to the shower, from the front porch, to the balcony, vertically horizontally, quadratic, exponent, algorithmetic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, forward, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in a car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back aching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw-dropping, hair pulling teeth jitterbug, mind boggling, soul snatching, over stimulating, vile, sloppy, moan-inducing, heart-wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, blackhole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark-worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcanic erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, hip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail snatching, spectacular, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, malforming, heavenly, devil's tango. please.

[philmbro]

dan and phil, youtube legends (derogatory)

[megsbr]

i am clearly not as active on here as much anymore but i’d like to make a post quickly:

yes i have dream + co. writing on my page and i will leave it up but I DO NOT WRITE FOR THEM ANYMORE

i DO NOT agree with the recently revealed actions of many of the dreamsmp members so i do not associate with the fandom anymore

thank you :)

[megsbr]

tis my birthday! 🥳

[champagnexowishes]

RIP Matthew Perry

No one else could’ve played Chandler Bing🩵