you're popular among horror fans. he's well-respected among film critics. though you work in the same industry, you couldn't be more different - but your managers think a pr romance is just what your careers need.
series warning: actor!bucky x f!actress!reader, mature themes, fake dating, enemies to lovers, bucky is an asshole, grumpy x sunshine vibes, angst, smut, slow burn (or at least my attempt at a slow burn).
this series is complete, with requests for drabbles open.
Synopsis: The cameras can wait. He wants you. Now. And he always gets what he wants.
Warnings: MDNI // semi-public sex (in a car), unprotected PiV, creampie, squirting, older!bucky, he slaps your ass like once, kind of mean!dom!bucky, he's a pervert who wants you so much he kind of disassociates from reality for a bit. Not edited lol.
Word Count: 1.1k
A/N: help i clearly overestimated myself, i can't do it on a daily basis lol. Also i made these dividers on my own yay. Night 2 of Eleven Nights Worth Remembering
Enjoy 💋
“It was a pleasure getting to know her,” he says.
A beat.
“Still is.”
The cameras captured everything. Every smoky lilt in his words.
The reporters react exactly how he expects — forced laughter, pens scribbling. They think it’s flirting.
They have no idea.
He’s not thinking about press tours or rehearsed kisses.
He’s not thinking about the easy bond you share or the way you pour your soul into your scenes.
He’s thinking about the way you looked at him during that last table read — like you knew exactly what he was imagining.
He’s thinking about the third day of shooting, when his hand lingered on your waist half a second too long after a scene cut.
He’s thinking about your body.
He's thinking about the way you moan into his mouth when he's three fingers deep inside you.
He's thinking about the way your pussy drips around his cock.
And he wants it.
Now.
His steps were heavy, determined. He did not hear the reporters calling out his name, he did not see the director waving him over; for all he sees is the way the sheer lace and satin looks on your body, kissing your skin like a lover.
He ain't no lover, but he would kiss that body.
He smiles at the interviewer you were talking to, sliding his arm around your waist, one of his huge hands caressing your shimmering skin.
He breathes you in, lips brushing your ear—relishing in the shiver of your body, thanks to him.
“Come with me.”
Not even a whisper.
A breath in the shape of a command exhaled against you.
The cameras captured everything. The hungry look in his eyes. The hands holding you—guiding you away.
“Darling, you wore this for me, didn't ya?”
You didn't have words. You could only nod—despite knowing he isn't looking at you— too busy steering you through the sea of well dressed men and women.
“Wanna feel you now, girl. Let me see that pretty pussy cry for me.”
The flashes went off in succession, each marking the start of something no one would be able to erase.
Did it really matter?
Did his—and your—career really matter more than the raw pleasure you drew from each other's body?
A sane man would say to wait for the prying eyes to blind away. But Bucky was anything but sane tonight.
His grip on your arm tightened, his pace quickening as he walks down the carpeted staircase.
“Gonna take you home, sugar. Can't fucking wait to rip this dress off you.”
He ignores the valet, he ignores the fans.
Opening the door and pushing you in, ignoring your startled gasp, he ignores the flashes.
His hands were shaking, the steering wheel too unstable. He tries to take a deep breath, focus on the road.
But you were sitting right next to him, eyes wide and glassy from the city lights and nerves—and he couldn't think no more.
He needs you.
Now.
Slamming the brakes, he looks over at you. “You better take those panties off right now, princess. We're not reaching home tonight.”
The little dark alleyway was safe enough, right?
“Bucky…”
A hand wraps itself around your throat. “Nuh-uh. I didn't ask you to speak, doll. Take those off and get in the back.”
His eyes were darkened with lust barely restrained by the small voice in his mind whispering—reminding him to stay sharp.
The other voice, the one that sounded a lot like him, reminded him of the way you scream out his name.
He blinked.
And when he opened his eyes back again, he was sprawled on the leather. Cock heavy and throbbing inside your pussy as you bounced on him.
He slaps your ass, the smack echoing in the interior of his brand new car.
Red hand prints making themselves home on your soft skin. Drool drips down your lips, too dumb and fucked out to speak up anything other than desperate little noises.
His hand snakes up your waist to your ribs, up to your chest as he bunched the expensive fabric in his first before ripping it off.
Your startled gasp did nothing more than mildly amuse him. In fact, he seemed rather pleased to be aware of the fact that you would have no way to walk out of this car without making headlines.
“God— look at those tits… So pretty. All f’me….” He pinches your erect nipples—hard—making you arch away from him, but his tight grip on your waist didn't let you escape.
“Don’t run from it. You're all fucking mine.”
His hand leaves your nipples and reached to cup the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss. Teeth clashed together, tongues melting into each other as you panted into his mouth.
Grabbing your hips, he slams you down harder on his cock. Setting a brutal rhythm as he used you like a fucktoy, all for his pleasure.
“Yeah, bounce on it, honey. Show me you're my desperate little slut,” his voice was rough, the steely edge now breaking away into gravel.
“Bucky—aah! You're—”
He clamps his hand over your mouth, his palm slick with your juices and spit. You blabber against his damp skin, muffled cries of pleases and oh gods leaving your mouth.
He thrusts up into you, thick thighs clenching as pleasure bled into his core.The car rocked with each push and pull, no doubt revealing the sinful activities you two were partaking in to the world outside.
“Fuck it, girl, fuck yourself dumb on this cock. Make it take.” He throws his head back on the seat as you continued riding him within an inch of your life.
Your eyes rolled back into your head as you reached your orgasm— too much, too fast. You sob out his name as you drench his thighs and the seats below.
“Tsk tsk, you made a fucking mess, princess. This pussy couldn't take all this cock huh? Was she too sensitive today? Did I make her cry too much?”
Your head falls on his shoulder as he continued thrusting into your pussy. Cursing with a loud groan, he fills your hole up with his release. Shudders leaving his body as he draws out his orgasm for as long as possible.
His hot, sticky cum against your inner walls had you squirming on top of him. He chuckles as he looks over at your ruined makeup and teary eyes.
Gone was the little starlet that smiled at the cameras.
For all you were now was his messy little girl.
All for him.
I don't have words except I actually prefer when my men are soft.
Tagging my cutie patooties: @willowhaylund @alpinebarnesworld @ornateglass @epiphanyrogers @sassandscribbles @buckybunni @stanmarvelous @eterna1reverie @juniebjonesin @highonmarvel @pinksplace @sheriff-bodecker @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @buckybsdoll @blobfishlol @buckysdecaflove @idkbeautiful @erina00 @sleepy-k0i
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Summary: You and Bucky go way back. Way back to when you acted together 20 years ago. You had a crush on him then, but you were too young. Tragedy and artistic passion made you best friends. Will your history make you lovers?
Word count: 4.3 K
Pairing: Actor!Director!Producer! Bucky Barnes x Reader
A/N: I've been dreaming about this ever since I got my #BuckyBarnesBirthdayBingo by @avengers-assemble-bingo. This fulfills the square: Best Friends to Lovers. As always, I crave feedback, so please let me know how you feel in asks, comments, reblogs and likes. TIA! ❤️
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Best friends to lovers. All of the reckless behaviors that come with growing up in Hollywood, teenage crush, small age gap, young love, tragic loss, idiots in love, cigarette smoking, mutual pining. Then comes the smut. :)
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———
This was deja vu all over again.
The paparazzi swarmed the studio as you and Bucky arrived for your meeting at the studio. After all, you'd spent your teen years under the camera’s glare, a co-star in an ensemble drama series, Idol’s Ridge, that captured the hearts of millions 20 years before.
During those five years portraying Sophie Randall, you’d met the people who’d become your best and enduring friends. Sam Wilson, who played your older brother, Peter Randall, Carol Danvers, who played your best friend, Morgan Blair, and James “Bucky” Barnes who played Sam’s Best friend and Morgan’s older brother, Jack Blair.
There were several other actors from the show with whom you’d remained cordial and friendly, but this was your core group.
But today? Today was different. Today, you were meeting in a creative capacity, not just as an actress. You were going to control the narrative.
The past twenty years had been a whirlwind. A marriage, scandal, and a career that had taken unexpected turns. You'd left the acting world long ago, but here you were again, standing next to Bucky Barnes, one of your best friends. Someone who’d been through it all with you.
Bucky, with his model handsome looks, dark hair and true blue eyes, was more than just a pretty face. His career had been varied, lucrative, and meaningful.
He was now reaching phenomenal heights. And he was the one the tabloids still associated you with, before, during, and after your marriage, even after all these years.
The shipping of the characters was inappropriate at the beginning, but toward the end of the run when you were an adult, Idol’s Ridge fans were calling for Jack to notice Sophie, and wanted you and Bucky together, even though you never dated.
It was others pushing that narrative, always trying to create drama where there was none, not you two.
You and Bucky were just friends.
But if you were being honest, that “what if” had been curling around your mind since you were a kid with a crush on a co-star who was too old for you. 20 to your 15 when you first started the show, Bucky didn’t spare you a second glance in a romantic capacity, but he took you under his wing and protected you, calling you his “Little Star.”
He decided that nothing was going to ruin your innocence, lecturing you all the time about the pitfalls of fame at a young age, even as he was reveling in those pits. If he knew you wanted him to ruin you, he didn’t let on.
Bucky’s decency did nothing to sway your heart away from him. In fact, it only made him more appealing. You always had a soft spot for Bucky Barnes.
If Bucky noticed you growing up and becoming a woman, he didn’t let you know. You were always his little sidekick, not quite a sister, but definitely not a romantic interest.
Perhaps it was because his best friend, another rising star in tv and film, did.
Steve met you briefly when he was filming in LA and hanging with Bucky. They were roommates in New York and best friends, having known each other as child actors from Brooklyn.
After he met you when he was 24 and you were 19, Steve talked about you all the time to his best friend and begged Bucky to give you his number.
Bucky refused, citing the fact that you were not ready for the likes of Steve Rogers, the golden boy heartthrob actor who partied harder than he did. Yes, that was the reason.
On the night of your 21st birthday after Idol’s Ridge was over, you had a get together in Manhattan, because you were filming a movie in New York City. You invited Bucky who was now based out of Brooklyn, and Steve was not going to miss this opportunity to get next to you.
That night, 25 year old Steve Rogers bought you a drink, and the next morning, Bucky heard you two in the room next door, cursing his, and Steve’s, timing. The rest was tabloid history: the whirlwind romance, the young, impetuous marriage, the substances, the breakout films, the nominations, the miscarriage, the rumors, the tragedy.
You were a widow at the age of 26, the caretaker of the legacy of one of the most talented young actors of your generation. Gone too soon.
Bucky was there for you, and you for him, feeling the loss as no one else could. When you were ready to get on with life, you and Bucky created Valkyrie Production Company as a tribute to Steve.
While you slowed your acting career way down before 30 years old, only taking on about one indie film project a year, Bucky’s career had taken off.
He’d transitioned from actor to actor/director, and of course, actor/director/producer. You watched him get engaged to Natasha Romanov, one of the older Idol’s Ridge alums, break up, and then date a string of actresses and models, but nothing ever stuck.
You didn’t understand. He could be a bit intense, but Bucky was such a good guy. He deserved happiness. Now, he was a 40 year old single successful actor slash slash with no family to speak of but you.
“Ready to roll?”
Bucky’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.
You blinked, taking a step back into the moment. You smoothed your pencil skirt down your hips, which were wider now than they were 20 years earlier. You wondered what production would think of you at 35, no surgical augmentation, just naturally you in a sea of plastic.
Bucky was the same way, his dark hair and beard peppered with gray and crows feet framing his striking eyes. But on him they were ‘sexy.’
Women were held to a different standard.
You missed Bucky appreciating your curves and your looks as you bit your lip and looked up at him with those big eyes.
Bucky’s heart clenched when you smiled at him. So fucking beautiful.
“Yeah. Let’s make magic, ” you murmured.
Bucky was a goner.
He loved your voice since you developed the lower register of your tone. It was one thing that the critics and fans raved over in anything you did.
He chuckled at how you’d trashed his trailer when he’d tried to hide your cigarettes from you that one time. It was all for naught, since you quit 18 months after you started.
He didn’t know that you’d just done it to hang out with him outside the soundstage door, stealing time. But it had permanently changed your voice into something that cemented your icon status in the present day, despite your limited career.
Bucky grinned that boyish grin, the same one he’d flashed a thousand times when you were on set together all those years ago. It made your heart do that little flip it always did, despite everything.
You had a meeting with the studio execs to discuss the next project, a reboot of the very series you'd starred in all those years ago, Idol’s Ridge.
It was too perfect, too full of nostalgia. But it also felt strange.
You glanced over at Bucky as he started talking to the execs. He was charismatic, confident, everything he had always been. But there was something in the way he kept glancing at you. His eyes were more intense, more aware of your every movement.
It was unsettling, especially the premise he pitched.
You finished up with the execs and stepped outside the back entrance for a quick break and Bucky lit up a cigarette, something you hadn’t seen him do in years.
“You’re quiet today,” he said, leaning against the wall. You inwardly railed at him smoking again, but he was grown. You watched the smoke curl around him through narrowed eyes. Then you grabbed the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag.
“Don’t do that, Star…”
You raised an eyebrow at him and then inhaled, Bucky watching you closely. Too closely, you might have thought if you noticed the way he watched your mouth after you removed the cigarette.
Bucky put the cancer stick in his own mouth and closed his eyes as he took his own drag, tongue chasing the filter as he removed it to exhale. He peered at you through the smoke, licked his lips and then dropped the half smoked bone on the ground, extinguishing it with the sole of his brown Ferragamo.
“We quit.”
You laughed and leaned on the stucco wall with your hand, staring up at him while he smiled down at you. This was your thing, this unspoken language that was understood but not explicit.
You worked together, but it was always more than that.
You were waiting for him to speak, but Bucky could always wait you out.
“James.”
You punched him on the arm. Hard.
“Ow!”
He laughed and rubbed his arm as he looked down at his shoes, smiling.
“You can do it, Star. I believe in you.”
You rolled your eyes at the old nickname. He always told you that you were the brightest little star on the set.
“But Bucky…”
You thought you lost it when Steve disappeared. But you couldn’t lose that feeling, so you took small roles, just to have permission to be someone else for a time.
Your films were critically acclaimed, but your confidence was shot.
“You can do it.”
You appraised Bucky. Something had shifted. Maybe it was the project, or maybe it was something more. Bucky looked right back at you, his expression softening.
“Are you in or are you out, Star?”
“I’m in,” you said, your voice steady and sure.
He tilted his head, studying you.
“Good. Because I need you.”
“You’ve always needed me,” you said, half-joking, half serious.
Bucky chuckled.
“Yeah, well, this time it’s different.”
You could feel your heart pounding. He was looking at you like he’d never looked at you before. Like he was really seeing you. But you were reading too much into things again.
You took a deep breath.
“You know, I’ve always trusted you, right? With everything. You’re the only person I’ve never felt like I had to pretend with.”
You took his hand and Bucky looked down at you tangling your fingers with his.
He should tell you.
“I know, Buck. You’re my best friend.”
There it was. The friend zone. Bucky sighed, but held on to your hand.
“Although we didn’t talk about that one plot point.”
You released his hand and crossed your arms, pushing your breasts up in your sweater. Not that Bucky noticed that sort of thing.
Bucky looked at you, one eye closed, squinting from the LA sunlight. Or was it because you were so gorgeous?
To you, his glance felt loaded, like there was something you couldn’t ignore anymore. But of course you tried.
“Which one?”
You smiled at his evasion.
“You know. The one where our characters are married now?”
Bucky smirked.
“We discussed this being centered around the children of the cast from 20 years ago.”
You huffed, frustrated.
“Yes, Bucky, but our characters were never a thing.”
He stood up and walked two steps toward you, into your space.
“Not true. Sophie always had a crush on Jack, but he blew you off. It’s 20 years later, he’s grown up and finally appreciates the beautiful woman who was always right there in front of him.”
You looked up into his clear blue gaze and had a scorching comeback for him.
“Oh.”
He reached for your face, palm resting on your cheek, thumb brushing at the side of your nose.
“Hold up…”
Bucky moved even closer and brought his face close to yours, warm menthol breath hovering over your own. He pulled his hand back and looked at it, showing it to you briefly. You didn’t see anything.
“Eyelash.”
He opened the door and held it for you as you tried to get your soul back into your body.
“Break time is over.”
—--
The next hours were a blur.
The production meeting went long as you brainstormed for the reboot, and you and Bucky worked seamlessly together, bouncing ideas off each other and firing on all cylinders. The dynamic was amazing and reignited your old crush.
You went to Bucky’s LA home after the meeting, excited at the preliminary greenlight for the project. You both decided to work on an outline that weekend to deliver to the studio Monday morning.
You’d gone home to pack a bag and get your essentials, as Bucky said you could bunk in one of his guest rooms.
It would be like a sleepover with one of your girlfriends, sweet, innocent and fun.
But after eating takeout tacos from Leo’s, you got to work in Bucky’s home office, and the vibe was thriving, but different. Every time your hands brushed as you passed papers or exchanged a glance, it was electric.
The air arced between you, but you couldn't tell if it was just you, or if Bucky felt it too.
As you sat looking at the whiteboard with the preliminary outline of the pilot episode, Bucky leaned back in his chair and regarded it, a smirk playing at the edge of his lips.
“This shit is fucking brilliant. It’s going to be better than the original.”
You looked at him, excitement coursing through you. You smiled at him and got up to walk behind his chair to lean on it and admire your ideas, as if you could see better what he meant from his perspective.
“I can’t believe it’s really happening.”
You leaned down and whispered in his ear, afraid to voice it too loud. Bucky swiveled around in his chair to look at you. You were still in your outfit from this morning, too excited when you pack to change into something more comfortable. You looked gorgeous.
He stood up and grabbed your hands in his.
“Better believe it, Star, we’re going to do this thing big.”
You squeezed his hands back and looked up into his beautiful blue eyes. Bucky’s hands were on your arms now and he was drawing you closer.
“Couldn’t do this without you, Star. I love… working with you.”
Your stomach flipped as he murmured at you. You inhaled the spice of his cologne and savored his touch while listening to his voice.
But your stomach dropped when you heard the ‘L’ word and you didn’t know what happened; just like Sophie and Jack all those years ago, you didn’t know what came over you when you pressed your lips to Bucky’s.
You had every intention of ending the contact before it began, but Bucky’s hands were now in your hair and tugged you close. He turned and lifted you onto his desk, stepping between your thighs, pressing them wide enough so that your skirt fought the movement.
It only made everything hotter.
Bucky used his hold on your hair to tilt your head so he could kiss down your neck. You arched your back, needing his mouth all over you, needing him to rip you out of the clothes that had the nerve to create a barrier between you.
For some unknown reason to your cunt, words emerged from your lips,
“We shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
He pushed your cardigan off your shoulders and nudged your tank top lower so that he could mouth at your cleavage. Your panties flooded with wetness.
“We’re both grown, Star.”
The acknowledgement in Bucky’s rumbling voice sent a bolt of pleasure straight to your core. He skated his hands up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher until you had to lift your hips to allow it to bunch around your waist. He fingered along the edges of your panties.
He looked down.
“Black lace. Fuck.”
He cursed low enough that you had to strain to hear him. He licked his lips, his saliva making them look so delicious.
“Can I touch you, Starlight?”
You shivered at the nickname and nodded, breath caught in your throat.
“Need your words, Baby. Need that beautiful voice.”
“Yes, Bucky. Please touch me…”
Bucky’s fingertips traced your clit through the fabric.
“Fuck, I’ve wanted you.”
“Me too,” you whispered, and he met your gaze, which threatened to stop his heart.
His blue eyes were fire, bright enough to make your whole world glow. If you let him, he’d sweep you away and ensure you enjoyed every second. You wanted it. To be swept away by him.
Bucky started the torturous slide of his thumb over your clit. You threw your head back and whined, caught up in a nirvana you’d only dreamt about.
“Bucky! Dont…”
He stopped what he was doing, stilling his hand over your cunt.
“Don’t?”
His voice was broken, and pleading. You used your free hand to cover his where he cupped your pussy.
“...Don’t stop Bucky….”
Still he didn’t move, searching your face for answers you didn’t have. You drew in a shuddering breath. Bucky’s slow smile sent your stomach into a dizzying flip.
“Naughty girl. You want to use me for your pleasure. Your own personal sex toy.”
You dragged your gaze over him, from his dark hair, to those wicked blue eyes, to his sinful mouth, down to the pants clearly sporting a huge hard-on. You grew bold in the knowledge that he’d started this.
Bucky Barnes wanted you, too.
“I have a sex toy. In fact, I have several. None of them look a thing like you.”
His laughter rolled through you.
“I guess I have work to do. Need to retire some sex toys. Check.”
“You’ll have to work real hard. I’m kind of attached to them, especially Arthur. Haven’t had real cock in 2 years.”
Bucky arched his eyebrow and hooked his fingers through your panties and dragged them down your legs, stepping back so you could kick them off.
“I’m disturbed that you named your vibrator.”
“Dildo,” you corrected.
He chuckled and shook his head.
“But I’m up for the challenge of making you scream my name…”
Bucky went to his knees between your spread thighs, looking at your pussy so intensely you could feel it like his touch.
“And I won’t tell you that I’ve jacked myself to the thought of you countless times over the years.”
“Bucky…”
He pressed a painfully gentle kiss to each thigh and then his breath ghosted over your clit.
“I sure as hell won’t tell you that when I fucked my hand, and imagined being inside you, that I came so fucking hard, Star, just from thinking about being buried in you to the hilt.”
You tried to focus past the pleasure of his mouth, his big hands holding your thighs wide as he devoured you. But his words had you floating.
“I… You fantasized about me?”
Bucky licked up your slit and then kissed it, looking up in your eyes before he answered you.
“Hmmm. Yes. I did.”
He sucked on your clit hard enough to make your back bow.
“Eating you out...”
Another long lick and a smile that he was accomplishing that very thing.
“You on your knees for me...”
The image in your mind of looking up at Bucky made you clench down and Bucky smiled at your pitiful pussy.
“...Bending you over something, like this desk, and fucking you hard…”
You whimpered, your pleasure building as much from the fantasy as from Bucky’s mouth.
“... Maybe taking that ass…”
He rolled his tongue over your clit, working you in just the way you needed.
“....cuming inside you, or all over your back. I’ll let you choose.”
“Oh! Bucky!”
You were practically screaming as you tried to slow your pleasure, to make it last, but Bucky drove you to the brink and you couldn’t resist him. You came with a cry that filled the room around you.
Bucky didn’t give you a chance to recover, though. He stood and stepped back between your thighs to take your mouth. You tasted yourself on his tongue and it made your toes curl.
You wrapped your legs around his waist and he lifted you off the desk easily and walked you down the hallway, still kissing you, never missing a step.
“You’ve done this before,” you murmured.
“Not like this. Never this.”
He kept you pinned to him with one arm around the small of your back and used his other hand to pull your tank top off. You ran your hands down his muscled chest. He really was too beautiful. It almost hurt to look at him and touching him only magnified the sensation.
He spun and pinned you between his body and the wall next to the door, thrusting against you. The seam of his pants pressed against your clit and you cried out.
“More.”
Bucky dragged his mouth up your neck and set his teeth against your earlobe and that set you on fire.
“You’re so needy, Star. I get it, I really do. Been wanting to show you how I feel for 14 years…”
You gasped and Bucky’s teeth scraped against your lip, making your nipples tighten in response. He let you down and stepped back, running his hand through his hair.
“Strip.”
There wasn’t much left to take off, but you obeyed and his grin made your heart stutter.
“On the bed.”
You crawled on the mattress and reclined among the pillows. You were rewarded by Bucky stripping out of shirt, and his pants and underwear in one go, shoving the material down his strong thighs and kicking free of them, leaving him naked.
The sight of his large cock straining against his stomach had you biting your bottom lip.
You knew what came next.
You craved it. And you forgot all about Arthur. You reached for him.
“Don’t make me wait any more, Bucky.”
He pulled a string of condoms from the nightstand and tossed them on the bed next to you. You counted six and raised your eyebrows. Bucky gave you an unrepentant grin.
“One condition.”
“Damn it, Bucky.”
Of course there were conditions.
“Stay in my bed tonight. Another fantasy of mine.”
You melted. Why not? It was finally time to have what you wanted. And you wanted Bucky.
You met those intoxicating blue eyes and nodded.
“Yes.”
“Thank fuck.”
He was on you in seconds, shoving your legs wide and he ground the base of his cock against your clit. He tangled his fingers in your hair and took your mouth like you were the sweetest fruit and he’d never get enough.
You reached blindly over and grabbed a condom. You tore the wrapper with your teeth and you rolled it over his cock. He allowed it, shifting back to give you the room to work.
Your body cried for him; you needed him inside you and you needed it at that moment. You lay back and guided him into you and he thrust in slowly, inch by inch, until he had sheathed himself completely.
Oh god. The stretch. Bucky broke free of your mouth and pressed his forehead against yours, your breath mingling between you.
Each of your exhales came out as, “Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.”
He gentled his touch, stroking your hair as if you were a wild animal he was taming.
“Stay with me, Starlight. I’ve got you.”
As if this was something that was forced upon you, rather than what you grabbed with greedy hands because you wanted it so badly.
You smiled, blissful. Fucked out, enjoying the feeling of Bucky’s cock pouding inside you. You needed more.
“Please move, friend. Fuck me, Bucky.”
You hitched your leg around his hip so you could take him deeper and leaned up until your lips brushed his ear.
“I need it hard.”
Bucky squeezed his eyes together and bit his lip as the pounding of his cock increased. You both thought he would cum right then.
“‘M not your fucking friend…”
He pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up even as he impaled you again.
“You want me to fuck you hard?”
“Yes!” you moaned.
“Knees wider, Starlight. Let’s go.”
Bucky slapped your ass and then grabbed a handful of your thick hair, tugging at just the right amount of pain to go with the pleasure.
The first stroke was slow.
“Fuck, you’re gripping me like a fucking vice. Almost had me cumming a few minutes ago.”
You could tell that Bucky’s teeth were gritted when he spoke. He had to brace against the urge to rut into you like a wild animal, but his pace and intensity increased.
For long, mind-blowing minutes, he thrust into you, paying attention to your sounds and movements to know that he was hitting that spot inside you. You meet him thrust for thrust as Bucky began to fuck you like his life depended on it.
He made the mistake of looking down at how your ass took the shock waves of his back shots and the evidence of your arousal left on his cock as he pistoned inside you and he cursed.
“Fucckkkkk! You should see the beautiful cream you’re leaving on my cock, Star. So fucking hot.”
The way you moaned set him on the road to orgasm and again and he reached for your clit, rubbing his thumb over it. Almost as soon as he did, you screamed his name and shattered beneath him. Bucky followed you headlong over that cliff and collapsed beside you, dizzy.
He looked over to see you already falling asleep, exhausted. He kissed your temple and went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, coming back with a washcloth for you.
When he was done cleaning you up, he gathered your boneless body in his arms, pressing kisses to your forehead as you curled into him, your head on his chest and leg thrown over his.
It was like you didn’t want to let him go.
“I know the feeling, Star,” Bucky whispered as he closed his eyes.
A feeling settling in his chest that he’d almost, but not quite, ever felt before.
pairing | actor!bucky x reader
warnings/tags | established relationship, angst city, relationship problems, crying, hurt/comfort, pet name (sweetheart), allusions to mending a relationship, no use of y/n
word count | 383
a/n | sorry in advance, my lovelies *awkward smile* day nine of january jumble scribbles by @societynsoelsscribbles, enjoy!!
january jumble scribbles masterlist
night swallowed the sky—a pitch black horizon with a sparkle. unlike home, you don't see stars here, they're just city lights. your stomach churned with a familiar sensation at the sight of the towering buildings surrounding you. loneliness. you tugged your navy robe tighter around you to dull the sting.
almost on cue, you felt a presence behind you. bucky's palms squeezed your hips as his chin rested on your shoulder. "come back to bed," he rasped, his voice thick with sleep.
"i miss home," you whispered.
he hummed in response, the scruff of his beard grazing your jaw, eliciting unwanted goosebumps. "let's take a trip. we'll leave after 'm done filmin'."
"you used to feel like home." as soon as the confession left your lips, your mouth went desert dry. yet, you continued, no matter how bad your chest ached to admit it. "i miss you…even when you're here, you're distant, like you're still in work mode."
you turned, and he noted the gleam in your eyes. your brows knitted together, but not in accusation, in grief as if you were losing a part of yourself. "it's consumed you." your voice cracked, a single tear slipping down your cheek.
with shaky hands, you framed his face. his expression was a mix of guilt and pain, the same emotions you'd had locked up in your chest for months. "come back to me, buck," you pleaded.
he stared at you, letting your words wash over him. when he eventually answered, he cupped your cheek, catching the falling tears. "'m 'ere…'m right 'ere." he sounded broken. devastated.
"prove it," you said softly, your hands sliding down the sides of his neck until they found purchase in the material of his shirt. "fix this, because right now i feel lost, and i'm just trying to find my way back to you. to home."
lowering your head, it fell to the middle of his chest. the dam broke, the tears you'd been holding back soaking his t-shirt. his strong arms craddled you, rubbing your back as you sobbed. "i'll fix this…promise. you're the only thing that matters, sweetheart."
for what felt like an eternity of solitude, you finally felt less alone. maybe this would take months to repair, but it was a start.
actor!Bucky x fem!actress!Reader (no use of y/n, l/n, reader is not described in any great detail)
Warnings: Hollywood AU, language, internet nasties, flirty!Bucky, a little power imbalance, age-gap (Bucky is around 40, actress reader is closer to 30)... This chapter has smut, bad language, imposter syndrome to the extreme, angst, breaking Bucky's heart, breaking your own heart...
I know I've made you wait for this one and I can't express how sorry I am for that. I fully got distracted by the shiny new WIP (Strategic Interests) and then I ended up doing about eleventy billion ficlets... anyway, I come to you with this new chapter and also most of the next chapter in the bag... You might want your tissues for this one. It's angsty.
Read on AO3
Word Count: ~6k
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JANUARY 2026 - Part 2
You went back to your table with your heart in your shoes. The award felt heavy in your hands, tarnished with the weight of disappointment. It made what should have been such a joyful moment taste bitter.
You could feel Bucky's eyes on you but avoided looking over at his table. The next few awards announced were a blur. Photographers buzzed around getting reaction shots, and you were careful to not get caught with any connection to Bucky.
You still hadn’t quite forgiven Sam for the Instagram story. One blurry, photo of you hoisted over his shoulder, laughing, taken down in a matter of seconds.
But it only took half that for people to start asking questions.
Then Bucky won.
You were on your feet without thinking, as he had been for you.
He looked shocked to the core.
“Guys like me, we don't get this kinda thing. Action movies aren't awards movies - so they tell me. This is for the actors who get told they're not enough and they'll never make it. You will.” He looked for you, held your eye. “You remind me why I do this.”
Your eyes filled with tears, overwhelmed with pride. Your stamped down the disappointment from the conversation you'd overheard, Steve handed you another glass of champagne, and you made every effort to get your head back in the room.
You saw him slip back into the room a couple of minutes later, just as the press pack in the back room were gearing up for the final two awards: Best Drama Film and Best Comedy or Musical.
PR teams bustled between tables like stagehands, checking seat were filled, clearing the path. Everyone pretending they hadn’t already mentally checked out, that their heels weren’t killing them and their cheeks didn’t ache from smiling.
You didn’t look at Bucky. Not really. But you felt him, two tables over. The heat of his presence - how it buzzed at the edge of your focus. The way your body knew he was there before your mind caught up.
Best Drama was announced. His film. The room erupted, chaos and champagne toasts, hands clapping too hard. He stood again, blinking like he couldn’t quite believe it, and for a second - just a second - his eyes flicked to yours. You smiled.
Yelena and her team were beside themselves. Bucky stood proudly, shoulder to shoulder with Joaquin Torres.
And then, with the last award of the night, it was your film. Best Comedy or Musical. The roar around you was muffled, like you were underwater. Steve squeezed your hand. Bruce was whooping. Someone shoved you gently to your feet.
The walk to the stage felt longer than it had earlier. Heavier, somehow. Like the weight of the night had finally settled into your bones. When you looked out at the sea of glittering faces, you didn’t search for him.
But you felt his eyes on you anyway.
You stood behind Bruce and his team, tucked between Steve and the choreographer, the lights hot on your face.
You kept smiling. You didn’t know where to look.
Bucky, still at his table, looked up at the stage with something that almost looked like awe. Or heartbreak. Or both.
You looked away before it could mean anything.
The music swelled. The lights dipped. The crowd stood again, and the whole ballroom shimmered with gold and noise and champagne highs.
It was over.
And all you could think was, now what?
You were hustled backstage to the press line. The winner’s circle - the biggest winners, the brightest stars congratulating one another.
He was by your side in an instant, his embrace appearing nothing more than professional.
“Congratulations sweetheart, I told ya,” he whispered in your ear, daring to place a kiss on your neck, hidden by your hair. Your gripped his arm, letting the weight of him ground you.
“You two - together, yeah?” one of the handlers called. “Drama and Comedy - golden pair!”
Bucky stepped to your side automatically and put a careful arm around you.
“Smile,” someone said. A dozen shutters clicked.
You tilted your head just so, statue gripped tight in both hands. He looked straight at you.
“Careful,” you murmured without moving your mouth. “Someone might think we actually like each other.”
His jaw twitched. “You did a hell of a job tonight.”
“Don’t,” you said softly.
More flashes. More applause.
You held the pose. Professional, through and through.
You were pulled in different directions, obviously. You hadn’t expected to be able to stick together and even if you had, it would have raised more questions than were already circulating on Page 6.
You were funneled toward the ballroom exit with the other winners, all velvet and sequins and sparkling eyes. The statue felt slippery in your hand now, the high buzz of the moment starting to taper off. Someone handed you a flute of champagne. Someone else clipped a wristband to your arm.
The after party - the first of many - was already pulsing.
Later, at god knows which of the parties, you spotted him near the bar, his head thrown back in a rare, unguarded laugh. Sam clapped him on the back, and he turned just enough for you to catch the edge of that smile - the real one, the one he didn’t hand to cameras. Your heart caught.
God, you loved him.
You felt it, the moment your heart clenched like it never wanted to let him go, and then half a second later the realisation that you’d have to. That in a few short weeks you wouldn’t be in the same places at the same time. You’d have to get on with your lives and your work and those things didn’t necessarily involve each other.
He found you in the crowd like he always did. Eyes on you like a heat-seeking thing, and then he was moving - threading through the chaos like the rest of the night didn’t matter.
You didn’t move. But something in you... shrank. Just a little. The weight of the statue in your hand suddenly unbearable.
“Hey, superstar,” he murmured, slipping in beside you. His hand went instinctively to your waist, his thumb brushing the silk of your dress. He kissed your cheek. “You were magic.”
You let yourself lean into him for a moment. The safety of it. The warmth.
Then you shifted your award between you, not intentionally, just... something to hold. A buffer.
The drinks had been flowing, the press had all but disappeared, but the fear of some errant photographer catching you still lingered.
“I still feel like I’m going to wake up in a panic, late for curtain,” you said with a smile. “Like it wasn’t real.”
“It was real.” His voice was steady, sure. “You earned every bit of it.”
You nodded, eyes on the lights overhead. If only they knew.
Lulu and Dani found you then, screaming your name, throwing their arms around you, burying you in perfume and lipstick and laughter. You let them sweep you away. You needed their noise.
You caught Bucky’s eye once over Lulu’s shoulder. He smiled softly, something private just for you.
You smiled back. But didn’t go back to him.
Not yet.
“You were unreal,” Dani breathed. “I'm so fucking proud of you, baby!”
You smiled, grateful, aching.
Lulu was already taking blurry selfies, and you tried to look like you weren’t falling apart quietly behind the eyes.
You stepped aside to call your dad. He didn’t pick up, but you left a message, your voice wobbling at the end. Love you, Dad. I won. I wish you were here.
When you turned back, Bucky was back with Sam, something easy between them. A shared history, or maybe just shared exhaustion. He caught your eye and didn’t look away.
The crowd moved like a tide between you, the parties never seemed to end. Champagne glasses clinked, the music pumped through the room - live bands, real life rockstars, string quartets. You’d heard them all in one night. People kissed cheeks and talked deals and took shots with their agents.
And still, underneath it all, underneath the sparkle and the noise and the congratulations, was that feeling like you’d missed a step. Like you were waiting for the end credits.
You sipped your drink. Dani handed you another. Lulu spun you toward the dance floor. You let yourself float - weightless, golden.
But part of you was still holding your breath.
Cinderella got until midnight and you could feel your own approaching with each passing ceremony. The minute the Oscars were over, your dress would turn to rags and you'd have to leave your Prince behind.
You knew you should have taken a leaf from the real Cinderella’s book and danced till you dropped. Made every second count. But the comments you’d overheard had stuck in your mind. You wanted Bucky to celebrate, to enjoy what would surely be a pivotal moment in his career.
You reached for Dani, “can you tell Bucky I'm going back? He should stay, I'll sleep in your room tonight.”
She frowned but nodded and approached Sam and Bucky. He shook his head lightly, disagreeing with whatever Dani was saying, then he hugged Sam tightly and made his way to you.
“C’mon baby, let’s celebrate just us?”
“You don’t have to -”
“I want to, we should be able to get out of here together,” he insisted, holding out his arm.
He lead you through a maze of corridors marked for staff, saying hello to everyone you passed along the way. The hotel kitchens were dark and empty, you followed to the loading bay and out of a side door where a car was already waiting for you.
He opened your door, and then went round to the other side.
“How’d you know where to go?”
“Sam told me the way out if we want to avoid the press outside. I figured you’d want to.”
You nodded and leaned into him, watching the city lights blur in the window.
The suite had been tidied up while you’d been gone. Someone had come in and cleared away the clutter left behind from when you’d been getting ready.
You kicked off your shoes the second the door closed behind you, the familiar hush of carpet grounding you in your own skin again. The award sat heavy in your hands. You put it down like the metal had been burning your skin all night.
Bucky loosened his bowtie as he crossed the room. “We made it,” he said with a low laugh, voice scratchy from the night. “You ok?”
“Yeah,” you said. Too quickly. “Just tired.”
He moved behind you, slipped his arms around your waist, and pressed his face to your neck. “You were fucking incredible tonight. I hope you know that.”
You let your head rest against his shoulder. Closed your eyes. “Thank you.”
There was a pause. His hands didn’t move - like he was afraid too much affection might crack you open.
When you finally exhaled, you murmured, “I just need a minute.”
He kissed the crown of your head. “Take all the time you need.”
You drifted into the bathroom, slipping out of the gown, letting the soft linen robe swallow you up. When you returned, he was shirtless on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with his watch. His eyes lifted to meet yours. Concern flickered, but he didn’t ask. He never pushed.
You walked past him, ignoring the award on the dresser.
Then you went to the balcony, cracked open the door, and stepped out into the night.
The air bit at your skin, cold and cruel.
You wrapped the hotel robe around your shoulders and leaned forward on the railing, breathing in the city.
“Jesus babe,” Bucky muttered, stepping out behind you. “You’re gonna kill us both standing out here like that.”
“I just needed air.”
He came to you quietly, wrapping himself around your back, arms warm and firm, chin at your shoulder. “Talk to me, sweetheart,”
You hesitated. “I don’t know if I’m built for all this.”
“All what?”
“This,” you gestured out at the city lights, the distant hum of Hollywood glinting below. “The press, the pressure. The dresses and photoshoots and pretending I know what I’m doing.”
“You’re not pretending,” he said quietly. “You’re doing it. You’re living it.”
“I don’t feel like it.” Your voice cracked. “I feel… lucky. And luck runs out. I'm too soft for it all.”
He looked at you, really looked. Not at the makeup or the awards or the picture perfect version of you the world had seen all night.
“No,” he said. “You work. You try. You've been doing it for years. That’s not luck. That’s you.”
He turned you gently to face him, the robe slipping a little. His hands found your hips.
“I don’t want to get in the way -”
“Of what? You’re not in the way, it feels like I’ve waited forever for this.”
“It's so easy for you, you're solid, bankable. You can carry a movie, and everyone loves you. I'm just going to be another phase. You know this isn’t real, it can’t last. Once we get to March, we’ll hardly see each other, I'll be back home trying to make the rent and it’ll all become a chore and we’ll resent each other -”
You knew you were ranting. You couldn't stop the words from spilling out.
“You want real?” He asked firmly, “let me show you what’s real.”
He pressed you into the cold glass of the balcony the city spread out behind you, his hands reverent and hungry on your skin. His mouth on yours. The robe slipped off your shoulders and onto the floor.
“You wanna do this here?” you gasped.
“Uh-huh,” he murmured. “Don’t worry. You’ll warm up real quick.”
He turned you toward the railing, pressing warm, wet kisses along your spine, one arm tight across your chest, the other sliding down your belly, between your legs. You whimpered, forehead pressed to the cold metal.
“Yeah?” he asked, his mouth hot on your shoulder.
You nodded quickly. “God, please.”
And that was all it took.
It was desperate, sharp and fast and a little bit messy. The kind of raw connection that left fingerprints and bruises.
He pushed into you from behind with a low groan, his hand braced against the rail beside your head. You cried out, breath fogging the glass in front of you.
“Fuck, baby,” he growled. “You feel like you were made for me.”
You clawed at the rail, needing more, needing everything. “Harder, Bucky, please.”
He gave you what you asked for.
He heard her on the phone when he woke up. Sunlight streamed in through the blinds they’d forgotten to close after he’d brought her inside and they’d warmed up in the shower.
“I’m not sure where it’s gone,” she whispered into the handset. She fiddled with the screen and another voice filled the room as the call went to speakerphone.
“C’mon sis, Dad wants a picture. He says congrats and don’t get cocky. Also he wants to know why he recognises the tall guy that’s in all the pictures on the Daily Mail website.”
“The Daily Mail can get to fuck,” she muttered, pulling the award out from under a pile of clothes. “Anyway, if he’s on that trashy website, there’s a million pictures on there, surely?”
“Ahh he wants one of his little girl and her award. Send him a selfie.”
“Alright, alright, tell him to call me when he’s back from work, yeah?”
“Will do. Congratulations dickhead, love you.”
“Love you too, tosser.”
She hung up and dropped the phone next to the two awards.
“You and your brother always talk to each other with such love?” He teased, his voice still heavy with sleep.
“It’s the only way he knows I care,” she smiled, sliding back into bed. “Good morning, Golden Globe winner.”
He smirked, “good morning yourself, fellow Golden Globe winner. Still feel like it’s not going to last?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure someone from that murder cruise movie is going to knock that door down and steal the award.”
“Ok, first of all,” he said, pulling her into his lap, “that movie was dogshit. Secondly, they’ll have to come through me.”
She laughed, but there was still a hesitation there, a lingering uncertainty that he wasn’t sure he could take away for her.
They ordered room service and were descended on by Dani and Lulu and Sam, all nursing hangovers.
The remains of a huge breakfast scattered across the coffee table. She’d curled up next to him again, toes tucked under his thigh, while Lulu recapped the drama from some after-after-party he’d been spared.
Dani was scrolling through headlines occasionally emitting little gasps that were either joy or concern, or possibly both.
“Ok,” she said eventually, “Daily Mail’s got at least ten high-res shots of you two in the same room, none of which scream couple unless you know what to look for. But some of these TikToks are starting to catch fire. People have zoomed in on him walking straight to you in the winners room, and the fans are frothing.”
“Let them froth,” she said, wiping a smear of croissant from her chin. “I’m allowed to talk to people at parties. Even Bucky Barnes. Also, if I have to hear the words ‘Daily Mail’ again today, I’m going to hit something.”
Lulu snorted. “Yeah but your face when he said you remind him why he does this was pure girlfriend behaviour.”
“He wasn’t talking directly to me, it was like…a general reminder, right, Buck?”
Bucky just smiled, tried not to let himself hope too hard. He was happy to be her soft place to land, even if no one else could see it yet. Even if part of her still flinched when people looked too closely.
“Some of these photos, wheeeew! Girl, you look so hot. I knew that dress was the right call.” Dani beamed.
“Becka knows what she’s doing,” she shrugged. “She said there’s some really good options if we go to the Oscars.”
“If? Honey, I think there’s no ifs on that,” Lulu said sternly.
“She’s right,” Bucky said, reaching for the coffee pot, “on the very slim chance you don’t get a personal nomination, the film will have plenty so you’ll be there anyway.”
“And it is a very slim chance,” Lulu continued on his behalf. Gold Derby has you at 5/1 to win, let alone be nominated.”
“Can we stop talking about this please? It’s giving me the heebie jeebies. Like tempting fate.”
Sam’s phone buzzed loudly on the table. “Oh shit,” he muttered, then grinned. “Sorry sweetheart, we cannot stop talking about this. BAFTA noms just dropped.”
She perked up. “Wait, really? I thought that was tomorrow?”
Everyone scrambled for their phones. Bucky reached for his but didn’t rush.
“Holy shit,” Lulu gasped. “You’re in!”
His heart kicked. He looked up.
Her hand covered her mouth. Her eyes were wide, “fuck off!”
“You’re in,” Dani confirmed, scrolling fast. “Best Actress. It’s you, the French girl from the war thing, the family drama one - Jesus, you’re in really good company.”
She blinked hard. “I wasn’t expecting…”
Bucky couldn’t stop smiling. He pulled her into a hug and she melted against him, just for a second, her body trembling with disbelief.
Then she looked up at him, suddenly guilty. “Wait, are you -”
Sam winced a little. “Nah, man. Not this time.”
Bucky kept his smile on. “Hey, it’s fine. It’s your moment. I get to be your plus one.”
She didn’t say anything. Just nodded, kissed his cheek, looked back at the phone in her hand pinging non-stop with notifications.
He didn’t say anything either.
But something cold settled in his chest, heavy and slow.
It wasn’t jealousy. Not exactly.
It was just... she’d barely looked at him before turning away.
And he was proud of her. Christ, he was so proud.
But still. For just a second - just one - he wanted her to look at him like he mattered in the way she mattered to him.
The moment passed. But the ache didn’t.
He felt it in the silences. Every time she looked at her phone - at the noise and Hollywood circus.
Her face fell, “well that didn’t take long,” she muttered, handing Lulu the phone.
“Cabaret girl still riding high on Bucky Barnes’ coattails all the way to the BAFTAs - they need to get a sodding life. This your achievement, babe. I promise you no one else thinks like this -”
“They do though.” She said quietly. He looked up as she looked away from him. “I heard some people talking last night.”
Dani looked ready to throw hands. “What’d they say?”
She wouldn’t look at him, or couldn’t - he wasn’t sure.
“They said -” she dragged her hand over her face, taking a deep breath. He watched Lulu and Dani exchange glances. “They said fucking your way to the top never gets old.”
Lulu looked at the ceiling for divine intervention. Dani’s mouth opened, then closed.
Before anyone could answer, her phone rang.
“It’s my dad,” she said quietly, taking the phone and leaving the room.
As soon as she left, Dani and Lulu exhaled.
“Well that’s shitty. No wonder she wasn’t in the partying mood.”
“It’s also a fucking lie - no offence, Bucky.”
“None taken. If I find out who -”
“You’ll keep quiet buddy,” Sam interjected. “You know you can’t do anything here.”
“He’s right," Dani muttered. "Just be there for her."
"If she'll let him." Lulu arched an eyebrow.
"We'll talk to her."
"She's pulling away," he said quietly. "She already thinks this'll be over before the Oscars."
"We'll talk to her," Dani repeated.
She didn't sound convinced or convincing.
The rest of the day blurred into interviews and champagne and congratulatory messages you barely had time to read.
And then you were both booked solid.
Interviews. Panels. Fittings.
For a week every conversation started with “Golden Globe winner, BAFTA nominated…”
You caught flights to opposite coasts, days of endless press - the final push before the Oscar nominations were finalised.
You told yourself it was normal.
That you were both just busy.
That you'd reconnect once the dust settled in a day or two.
But the dust didn’t settle. Not really.
And even when it did, you couldn’t. Something in you stayed tightly braced, like you were waiting for the rug to be pulled.
You smiled in photographs, laughed in interviews, gave all the right soundbites thanking the cast, the fans. But it all felt… borrowed. Like trying on someone else’s life and finding it didn’t quite fit.
You told everyone it was a fluke. That the film was doing the heavy lifting. That it was just a good year and you were along for the ride.
You said it enough that Dani finally gave you a look.
And then she told you to sit down.
“What are you doing?” She demanded gently. “You looked radiant. But you were holding your breath the whole night of the Globes and you have been ever since.”
“Have I?”
“You do this thing,” she went on. “Right when you get something good - something big - you start building the fire escape.”
You scoffed and went back to the email from your publicist about an interview for BAFTA weekend. “I’m not.”
“You are. You’re scared it won’t last, so you start planning your exit.”
You handed her the phone and she read the email. “Jesus, they want you one-on-one at the Vaudeville, in front of a live audience… That's amazing, babe!”
"It's all happening too fast and too slow at the same time." You said, your voice laced with fear. “I'm not sure what's my own anymore. What if I'm only getting this stuff because of Bucky?”
"Who give a shit what anyone else thinks? You know how hard you've been working for years. What are you really scared of? That he won't wait for you, or that he will?"
"Dan, he could get any woman he wants. Supermodels, gorgeous, young influencers. Surely he's not interested in me sticking around."
“I think you're wrong. He's in love with you.” Age said firmly, taking your hand. “And you don't get to decide for him. Let him in, let him be there for you.”
You didn’t say anything. Just sat there with your fingers tightening around hers.
You wanted to believe her. Wanted to believe he loved you. That this was real. That you were enough.
But the higher you climbed, the louder that little voice in your head screamed you're not supposed to be here.
Dani squeezed your hand, then stood and kissed your hair. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. Just don’t run from something good because it scares you.”
You nodded, but didn’t move.
The next morning, you were standing in the bathroom, half-dressed, toothbrush dangling from your mouth before a breakfast meeting, when the scream came through the suite like a bullet.
“Oh my fucking god!”
You froze. “What?”
Dani’s footsteps thundered across the room to the half open bathroom door. “Best Actress. You got it.”
Your stomach flipped. You teetered into the bedroom, toothpaste still foaming, hair half-curled. Lulu was already pulling up the livestream on her phone. Dani was crying.
“They just announced it, I swear to god - watch, it’ll be on again in the recap. Oh my god, babe, you’re going to the fucking Oscars!”
Somewhere across the room, your phone buzzed. Then buzzed again. Then didn’t stop.
“Wait - what about Bucky?” you asked, heart pounding.
“He’s in,” Lulu confirmed. “Best Actor. It’s both of you.”
A strange sound escaped your throat. Half laugh, half sob. You sat down hard on the edge of the bed with your head in your hands.
Dani filmed it. Of course she did. You didn’t even care.
The bedroom door flung open, Bucky and Sam the other side. He wrapped you in his arms, lifting you off the floor.
“I told you, didn’t I tell you?!” He laughed, elated, excited. It was infectious.
Sam was on the hotel phone ordering champagne. Lulu was calling your dad. Dani was crying again.
You rode through the day on a wave of euphoria and a string of calls from journalists, friends, old teachers, distant cousins. Everyone wanted to congratulate you.
Maybe it would be ok.
Maybe you did deserve it.
Then your phone rang again - this time, your publicist.
“The Academy wants to know if you’d consider performing.”
“…Performing?”
“A medley. From the film. Live. At the ceremony.”
You stood, staring at the huge Cabaret billboard you could see from your window, your stomach turning over.
“I’ll think about it,” you heard yourself say, not knowing what else to say.
And there was no time to dwell on it either, the nominations had flooded your calendar with screenings, meetings, glad-handing and lunches.
He slipped into your shared room after the noise had died down following yet another industry party. Held by his studio for his film, you’d been able to take a night off. He was still in his tuxedo trousers, shirt unbuttoned, barefoot.
He smiled when he saw you, slowly, proudly, and so in love.
“This is incredible,” he murmured, folding you into his arms. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
You nodded against his shoulder. But you couldn’t say it back.
Not because you weren’t proud of him. You were. You were in awe.
But something about it all was unravelling you.
And you didn’t know how to tell him that.
So instead, you kissed him. Soft. Grateful. A little desperate.
He kissed you back like it was the only thing in the world that made sense. There was no red carpet, no cameras, just this. Just you.
He guided you backwards to the bed, slowly, carefully giving you an out, a chance to say not tonight.
You didn't want to say not tonight. You wanted to lose yourself in him, to bring everything inward until the whole world consisted of the two of you and nothing else.
When he finally moved over you, slid into you with a groan that sounded like he'd found home, heaven and salvation all at once, it felt like something cracked open. Like the space between your bodies, your minds, had finally narrowed into something you could handle.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, your nails scraping down his back as he rocked into you, slow and deep and unyielding. His forehead pressed to yours.
"I need this, I need you," you breathed.
“I'm going nowhere," he murmured. "Not without you."
His pace picked up, rougher now, chasing something neither of you could name. Each thrust dragged you closer to the edge, a mix of pleasure and emotion that threatened to swallow you whole. You clung to him like gravity had shifted, like he was the only thing holding you down.
You came again with a cry muffled against his shoulder, and he followed, hoarse and shaking, burying his face in your neck.
You collapsed beside him, both of you sticky with sweat, the sheets twisted between your legs. He propped himself on one elbow and dragged a hand through his hair, still catching his breath.
You curled into his side. His fingers traced lazy circles on your skin. He kissed your shoulder once, then settled behind you.
Sleep came easier than you expected.
But the morning brought the weight back.
You were already dressed when he woke up, standing by the window, arms folded tight over your chest. Watching the sun rise over the sprawl of LA like you might find clarity in the haze.
He sat up in bed, hair rumpled, squinting at you.
“You ok?” he asked.
You nodded, but didn’t turn.
He got up, crossed the room, wrapped his arms around you from behind. His chin on your shoulder. You leaned back into him instinctively, letting him hold you up.
And for a second, it felt like maybe this was enough.
But then he spoke. Stepping away from you, holding you at arms length.
“We’re winning everything,” he said quietly, eyes locked on hers. “So why does it feel like we’re losing each other?”
You looked away. Your hands were shaking.
“I don’t… I’m not - Look, you don’t owe me anything, Bucky. You’ve got a whole life waiting for you -”
“So do you.” His voice was low, rough. “But, sweetheart, you keep walking away from it.”
The silence stretched between you. Heavy and sharp.
He stepped closer. Not touching you, just reaching out in the space between.
“Did I do something?”
Your chest cracked open. “No,” you said quickly. Too quickly, too defensively. “God, no. You’ve been - this whole time, you’ve been...” You shook your head and tried to swallow the enormous lump of emotion stuck in your throat. “You’re not the problem.”
He waited. Watched you crumble.
“Then what is?” He pleaded. “Baby, I want to help - please?”
You blinked, and the tears fell.
“The Globes.” Your voice splintered. “That night when I heard those people talking. Saying it was a quiet year. I was just lucky. That I didn’t deserve it.”
Bucky swore softly under his breath. “You can’t believe that crap.”
“I already do,” you whispered.
That was the truth. The rot you couldn’t scrape out. The voice in your head that sounded so much like them, so much like fear and so much louder than love.
He stepped forward, hands out. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
You broke. Finally, completely.
“I think I do, Bucky.” Your whole body shook. “I love you. But I can’t do this. I - I need to go home.”
He stared at you like the ground had dropped out beneath him. But you were already moving, already throwing things into a bag, your mind racing to come up with a plan.
“Are you coming back?” he asked hoarsely, still caught off guard by your snap decision.
Your breath caught. Your heart was in pieces.
“I don’t know,” you mumbled through tears. “I don’t even know if I want this anymore -”
“Me or the career?” His voice cracked.
You looked at him, broken. Watching his heart break and knowing you were the cause.
“I don’t know,” you sobbed. “I don’t know.”
He didn’t speak.
Just stood with his hands curled into fists, jaw locked like if he moved, he might shatter.
You wiped your face with shaking fingers. Picked up your bag.
“I'm so sorry,” you whispered thickly through your tears.
Neither of you said goodbye.
Not really.
The hotel door clicked shut behind you, and it felt like the end of something.
Maybe everything.
You weren't brave enough to call the girls, so you fired of a quick message.
Going home. Can someone collect the rest of my stuff from Bucky's suite please? Will call you later xx
You'd never arrived at the airport without a flight booked before. Everything was normally so meticulously organised, but this time you found yourself at the BA check-in desk clutching your passport and begging to be put on the next flight to London.
Five hours waiting at LAX, a twelve hour flight and a three hour train ride. Less than twenty-four hours after running your own life, you were where you needed to be.
The cab pulled away quietly, tires cracking over the frostbitten tarmac. You stood at the bottom of the short garden path, your bag slung over your shoulder.
Your hand hovered over the door handle for a moment before you turned it.
It opened from the other side before you could push.
“Dad -” your voice cracked immediately. Your face crumpled.
“Oh, pudding,” he said sadly on seeing you.
You didn’t even try to smile. Just stepped into his arms like you were fifteen and heartbroken and coming home from youth club early. He held you tightly in a familiar bear hug.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” you mumbled into his jumper. Your voice cracked again. “I’m sorry -”
“Don’t be daft,” he said gently. “You’re home. Come on, I’ll get you a brew.”
You kicked your shoes off in the hallway. The house smelled like toast and fabric softener and somehow, faintly, your mum’s perfume.
He didn’t ask questions. Just let you crawl onto the sofa and pulled the blanket off the back of it, tucking it around your legs like he used to when you were sick.
You sank into the cushions. The same pictures on the mantlepiece, the same afternoon quiz shows on the TV. It all made you feel young again, and not in a good way.
Just small.
Small and tired and done.
He came back in, pressed a fresh mug of tea into your hands, and sat down beside you with a sigh.
For a long time, neither of you spoke.
Then, finally, quietly, he said, “Your mum would know what to say. She always did.”
You stared into your mug until tears filled your eyes. You wanted your mum more than anything. Her hug, her reassurance, her tenacity. But the man next to you on the sofa was equally important.
“You don’t have to be her,” you whispered sadly.
He didn’t say anything.
You looked at him. “I missed you, Dad.”
His jaw tensed, blinking fast. He rubbed a hand over his face and nodded.
“Yeah, well,” he muttered. “I watch all your stuff, you know. Pretend I don’t sometimes, but I do.”
That made you huff out a laugh through your tears.
You set the mug down on the coffee table and leaned into him, curled into his side with the blanket clutched in your fists.
He let out a slow breath.
“That young man you’ve been hanging about with,” he said after a pause. “He the reason you’re here?”
You nodded, barely.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No,” you whispered. “I hurt him.”
He was quiet for a long time, just rubbing a slow circle between your shoulder blades.
“Then go easy on yourself, love,” he said gently. “If he’s worth the tears, he’ll wait. And if he won’t… you’ve still got me.”
You let out a small, broken laugh against his chest.
He wrapped an arm around you and said nothing else. Just held you, his own tears landing in your hair while you cried into his jumper for the things you lost, for the things you gave up, and for the man you loved but couldn’t hold onto.
Everyone’s Watching Him (But He’s Looking At Her) Series Masterlist
Warnings: body insecurity and mention of reader sucking her stomach in, idiots in love, shy & insecure reader, anxiety around being in crowds, hurt comfort, crossing Bucky’s boundaries (not reader), soft fluff, jealousy, miscommunication, angst, implied sex
Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library
Actor!Bucky Barnes x Assistant!Fem!Reader
Summary: The entire world’s eyes are on movie star Bucky Barnes, what he’s wearing, who he’s dating, even the mystery behind why he needs a prosthetic arm - but Bucky doesn’t care about all that, he’s only got one thing on his mind, you.
Warnings | riding, car sex, cum eating, unprotected sex, hair pulling, dirty talk
Word count | 1k
Summary | you and Bucky will fuck anywhere, anytime
Prompted, Unreleased Masterlist | Masterlist
"Tip Of My Tongue She's Pulling My Hair
I Do What She Wants Anywhere
Back Seat Of The Car And Up In The Air"
Bucky was in heaven, his eyes rolled back into his head and his lips parted in a silent moan of more more more.
He could feel the stress of his evening melting away, the glittery fabric of your dress scratching his thighs only adding to the sensation of letting go. The award ceremony had been full on, but definitely not as full on as the car ride to the airport currently was.
The steady slap of skin to skin echoed through the car as your rode Bucky, your hips sliding up and down as you bounced on his cock.
A hand was tangled into his hair, of which had grown out just long enough your your fingers to slide through the strands and grab on in situations like this.
Your lips curved, a salacious grin tugging them upwards against Bucky's skin as he arched upwards into you, his neck bared for you to explore. You scraped your teeth down the column of his throat, relishing in the way he whined your name and gripped your hips even tighter.
"Fuck, baby, you feel so good. Keep me so full." You murmured breathlessly, your dress rucked up at sound your hips and the neckline pulled down far enough that your breasts were spilling out.
Your pants were heavy in the air, a thick layer of steam sliced across the car windows and an even thicker layer of sweat plastering your hair to your forehead - ruining the up-do it had once been so carefully constructed in to.
"Shit, shit, doll." Groaned, tongue running the seam of his lips as you kissed down his throat. You tugged at his hair a little harder and rubbed your clit with your free hand, a high moan leaving your own lips at the feeling.
Bucky could feel his release, right there. Your name rested in his mouth, lingering on the tip of his tongue as you slammed your hips down into his another one, two, three times.
He exploded, hips jerking up into yours as both of your releases barrelled through you. Your breathing was heavy, and you rested your forehead against his as Bucky calmed down from his high.
You both shared a grin, before Bucky was curling his hand around the back of your neck and pulling you into a needy kiss - his tongue searching for yours as your teeth clashed.
The partition slowly rolled down, the driver's eyes never leaving the spot in front of his as he informed both of you, "we're here."
You giggled, pulling away from a paling Bucky and climbing off of him.
He watched intently as you tugged up the neckline of your dress so you were presentable, and swiped the cum dripping down your thighs onto two fingers before licking them clean.
You eyed him, taking your fingers into your mouth and swirling your tongue around them, as if it were his cock.
Oh, and how Bucky wished that was his cock.
And the thoughts of you just couldn't leave his mind as Bucky saw you exit the car, a new trail of cum sliding down the inside of your thigh as you strutted towards the jet.
He was fucked.
Despite himself, Bucky was quick to tuck himself back into the trousers of his suit and slide out of the car after you - jogging a little bit to catch you up.
A smile curved your lips as he looped his arm through yours, Bucky guiding you up the steps of your private jet.
Metal echoed against heels as you climbed the stairs, and you felt giddy at the fact you and Bucky had just fucked so brazenly with your driver right there.
You huffed as you plopped down into your seat, Bucky taking his own opposite you. You rested an elbow on the arm, propping your chin on your hand and biting at your nail as you surveyed him.
"What?" Bucky grinned as you began to run your foot up his calf, nearing his crotch with your heels still on.
The man swallowed thickly, eyes darkening as you smirked at him.
"Again?" Bucky sighed, and your smirk turned to a feral grin.
To cut the chase, one thing Bucky knew, you were sliding your foot up his calf and biting your nail, the next - well, the next, his cock was buried deep inside you in the plane bathroom.
"Naughty girl, fucking me in the plane bathroom." Bucky grunted, a hand pressed so hard into the tiny, blurred mirror in front of you that he though he might put it through the wall.
You only moaned in response and leant back to nip at his neck, driving Bucky feral. He fucked into you harder, using his free hand to push the hair off his forehead before grabbing onto your hip.
You grinned, reaching back to dig your nails into his ass, taking control of his thrusts. Bucky's eyes rolled back and he moaned your name.
The pleasure sluiced through you - your name hanging off his tongue so regularly and your hands all over his body - it gave you a thrill.
With your other hand, you reached up to wrap it around his neck, pulling his head down to your shoulder. Without a word, Bucky began to pepper kisses into your skin and rut even harder into your core.
"Make me cum, Bucky." You murmured, and you soon felt his fingers slide over your clit in tight circles that made you see stars. "Yesyesyes!" You groaned, shaking in his arms.
Bucky grunted, hips jutting into you a few more times before he hit his own release. You hissed as his teeth dug into your neck.
"No marks, honey ." You muttered, and Bucky quickly released you.
"Shit." Bucky panted, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as you both caught your breath.
You laughed in disbelief, "I can't believe we just did that."
Bucky was laughing with you now, and you both continued to laugh until you heard a sharp knock on the door.
"Please step out of the bathroom before we have to detain you both." You could hear the muffled sound of the flight attendant's voice, and both of you burst into quiet giggles.
