summary: bucky barnes has just found out his entire life has been a lie. that his life as the winter solider has been nothing but mind control. instead of running off after his fight with steve, he returns to the avengers tower where he trusts no one. everyone takes turn on watch, and this time it's yours.
word count: 2.2K
read the: next chapter
a/n: based this on request from anonymous!
The Winter Solider was not a man. He was not capable of forming his own thoughts or having feelings. He was a killing machine that was able to be turned on and off at any moment, bringing only death and destruction wherever he went. That was until he heard one word, one name. Bucky. That moment altered something in his brain, a voice in the back of his head coming to life. It sounded like his own. The Winter Solider was not sure he had ever heard his own voice in his head before.
He had learned very quickly, and against his will, that he was once a man named James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. That he used to be a solider from a different time. That he had a life that was taken away from him. That he has been used as a weapon. And that he should be dead.
The man he had once thought was his target, Steve Rogers, was actually his friend in the life he no longer knew. The one he couldn’t remember.
And now as he sat in this tower over looking the city skyline, all he could think about was that there was no one to be trusted. Sure, maybe Steve, but he wasn’t even in the right frame of mind to distinguish if this was still some trap – some lie.
“He’s been sitting like that for two days.” Sam says as you and Steve approach. Everyone has been taking turns keeping watch of him since he and Steve returned from their fight near the river. First Nat, then Sam, now it would be your turn. “He hasn’t eaten or slept.”
“I don’t blame him.” You mumble as your arms cross over your chest, watching the back of Bucky's head. “He just found out his entire life has been a lie. He’s been used a killing machine for the last 70 years.” You try to keep your voice low so that he can’t hear you, but you watch as he tilts his head back and forth a bit, the memories filling his mind.
“Let me go introduce you.” Steve’s voice is soft, as he places a hand on your elbow guiding you over to where Bucky was sitting. Once you approach his chair, you take a step back keeping your distance while Steve goes to speak to him.
“Hey, buck.” He says, Bucky wincing a bit at the name, obviously not used to it yet. “Sam’s going to be heading out of here in a few minutes. I wanted to introduce you to another team member.”
Bucky's head turns to the side to look at Steve, his eyes raking over the man. You can tell he’s trying to figure out if Steve in that moment is a threat to him, his body rigid as he asses. You can’t imagine the amount of stress he’s under, how his brain must be on fire with trying to discern between realities.
He soon looks over at you, his stare is hard as the two of you make eye contact. You’re not scared of him, and you know you could disarm him in a moment despite the difference in size between the two of you, but there’s something in his gaze that feels so disconnected from the world – from emotion. Steve introduces you, saying your name a few times as he gives Bucky the Same rundown as he had with both Natasha and Sam, trying to reiterate that they were here to help – not hurt.
Bucky doesn’t respond, he didn’t the first two times either, his gaze moves back over to Steve and he continues to frown, wanting to be done with this conversation, wishing the screaming in his head would stop.
Once Steve wraps up his rundown he looks over at you, giving a firm nod before he walks out of the room, beginning your time on the clock to keep watch of this man, while they figure out how best to move forward.
Nothing really happens for the first few hours, Bucky shifts slightly in his chair a few times, you lead him to the bathroom once or twice, and your phone buzzes with some texts from Steve checking in, but overall nothing worth noting.
You can see the dark circles under Bucky's eyes as you sit a few seats away from him. You feel bad for him to some extent. He had done bad things, sure, but you couldn’t imagine the pain he was going through. The sun begins to set and you hear a loud sigh leave his lips, it makes you wonder what’s going on in his head.
He hasn’t eaten.
Sam’s voice rings through your head and you realize it’s probably best to get Bucky some food.
“Hey.” You say, getting his attention, his head slowly rolling to the side to look at you. “What do you want to eat?”
Bucky's eyes graze over you for a moment, you can see him making a mental note that you are a threat to him and that no one right now is safe. He makes no attempts to respond before he rolls his head back to continue staring into space.
“O...Kay.” You mumble to yourself, taking out your phone and making a few arrangements to have food sent up for him.
It doesn’t take long for someone to arrive, pushing a cart filled with food, you jump off your chair to thank them before grabbing the plate and moving it over to a table where Bucky could sit.
You don’t realize he’s watching you until you turn back around, your head nodding over to the table and he stands. He’s much taller than you had anticipated, your eyes taking in the size of him as his metal arm shines brightly even with the dim lights in the tower. He sits down and waits for you to sit across from him.
“I guess they sent over ...” you eye his plate for a moment. “Salmon.” The face you make after the word is one of pure disgust – a food you hated with every fiber of your being, you didn’t envy that he had to eat it.
But, he makes no attempts to reach for his fork or knife, his hands curled into fists as they rest at the table, his eyes watching you intently.
“Do you not like salmon?” You ask, trying to coax even an answer out of him, but he doesn’t budge. It takes you a moment before you put two and two together – the most obvious reason of all as to why he’s not eating. “Steve wouldn’t poison you.”
He grunts in response, his fists tightening a bit as his eyes move down to the food then back up at you. It’s hard to understand what could possibly be going through his mind, what horrors he’s had to endure and the false reality that he was placed into for all those years.
“Steve wouldn’t poison you, Bucky.” You say again, trying to reiterate the point as much as you possibly could, your words holding so much weight to anyone but it falls flat with him.
“I don’t know Steve.” His words send a chill through your spine, his voice is deep and hallow, lacking any emotion, but, to be fair, he’s not wrong. “I don’t know you.”
“Fine. I’ll prove it to you then.” Your words come out faster than your brain has a chance to stop you. Standing up from your seat, your chair pushing back as you do so, you lean across and grab his fork, hands shaking slightly as you grab a piece of the salmon.
You regret doing it almost immediately, you can feel the weight of his gaze on you as he watches you bring the fork to your mouth. It’s fishy and pink and the bile is rising in your throat just at the smell of it, but you know you have to do this. To earn some sort of trust. If Steve was here, he’d do anything to prove to Bucky, so you had to show him you were just as capable of proving this as well.
Taking the bite your body wants to reject it almost immediately as you chew, but you manage to get it down, taking a long sip of your water once it’s been swallowed to try and get the taste out of your mouth. Horrible. Terrible. Disgusting. If he didn’t eat the salmon now, then you’d definitely kill him.
A beat of silence passes between the two of you as stare at each other. Bucky moves his hand, grabbing his fork back from you and moving to take a bite of the food, having an easier time choking it down than you do.
There it was. Something. Maybe not trust yet, maybe just a spark of the idea.
You sit down across from him again, shaking your head as you try not to imagine eating anymore of the food, the idea of it sending a shiver down your spine as you continue to watch silently.
“Thanks.” He manages to say between bites, his eyes on the food in front of him.
“Yeah, don’t mention it.” You quip back, your voice flat before letting out a dry cough.
It’s once he’s finished with his food that he pushes his body back against the chair, sinking into it slightly, his flesh and metal hand grip the arms tightly. The tension in the room is palpable at this point and you know Bucky can feel it too.
“How long have you known Steve?” His voice is gruff as it comes out, and you’re surprised he’s willing to talk to you, let alone ask questions.
“Two years.” You respond. “Since they found him in the ice.” You remember that day vividly, watching as they brought him in for evaluation, making their plans to slowly acclimate him to the real world, which in true Steve rogers fashion did not work. You had been assigned to his team ever since. “I was one of his first recruits on the team. Sam was next, Nat is just a friend.”
Bucky nods at that, his long hair falling in front of his face as he takes in your words.
“Has he always been ...” he looks over in the direction of the door that Steve had walked out of hours ago. “Like that ?”
You let out a small laugh, shaking your head a bit at his question – you knew exactly what he was talking about. Steve, while he had everyone’s best interest in mind, was a bit overbearing, always over explaining everything and a bit ... self absorbed. It was the hero complex.
“Yes.” You nod, a small smirk on your face as your gaze catches Bucky's again. His eyes are tired, not as guarded as they were a few minutes ago – softer. “He means well, but he can be a little ...” you trail off, but Bucky nods his head understanding where that was going.
Bucky lets out a long sigh, his eyes closing for a moment as you can see his hands gripping the chair tighter, the knuckles on his flesh hand white.
“I hate that he looks at me like that.” He admits through gritted teeth. “Like i’m supposed to just remember everything that happened. There’s ... bits and pieces, but i don’t know him. I barely remember myself. He doesn’t understand.”
“He doesn’t expect you to remember anything.” You add in after a few long moments of silence. “It might feel like he does, but he doesn’t. He’s just excited to have his friend back.” Your eyes trail over his face. “A version of his friend.”
Bucky's grip loosens on the chair, a deep breath leaving his nostrils as he moves to stand from the table. You watch as he makes his way back to where he was sitting before, his head lolling back onto the chair as he stares up at the ceiling.
And he stays like that for the remainder of the night. His shoulders aren’t as tense as when you had first arrived, he turns to look at you when you ask him a question and he even manages to gruff out an answer.
By the time morning comes, Steve is there bright and early, ready to release you of your duties as it was now his turn to keep watch over Bucky.
“Hey.” He says, startling you a bit as you and Bucky both turn to look at him. “How’d it go?”
“Good.” You nod, standing up and straightening your posture. “He ate late last night, he’s feeling a bit ... overwhelmed.” You keep your voice low so Bucky couldn’t hear you. “Give him some space. Don’t ask so many questions.”
You felt suddenly protective over Bucky, the need to make sure he felt comfortable as he navigated his way through this new beginning was blooming in your chest. And as you turn around to see him one last time, you swear you seem some sadness in his eyes. You pat Steve on the shoulder as you walk past him, finally being relieved of your time. Though you’d never admit out loud you’d be counting down the hours until it was your turn on watch Bucky again.
Running a bookstore and trying to survive life, you never expect to run into the James Buchanan Barnes. You also don't expect that meeting him will turn your hollow life upside in the best way possible.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader
Tags: meet cute, fluff, pre FatWS, bookstore owner reader
wc: 5361
The first time you ever saw James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was when you were eleven years old, and your newest friend made you sit down to watch a war documentary on the late Captain America. She had an unhealthy—borderline fanatic obsession with the lost Super Soldier that only intensified when he miraculously returned during your senior year of high school and helped save the world from an alien invasion. This propelled her to join you in applying for New York based colleges, though your reasons weren’t as boy crazed or fangirl focused.
With a mother too busy drinking to raise you and a father who worked for the shady side of every business, you walked a fine line between following your passion and trying to escape your home life. As soon as you got an acceptance letter from your dream writing college—and your father agreed to help pay for the tuition—you moved from sunny Fontana, California to Brooklyn, New York.
The next time you hear about the Sergeant, is when his name and face are plastered over every news screen across the world.
That was the first time you heard of The Winter Soldier.
Having lived in Brooklyn for four years by then, you had found yourself unwillingly dragged into many superhero based political conversations. You had even read the Sokovia accords and most of the files released when S.H.E.I.L.D was dismantled—purely out of curiosity and boredom between classes and work. What you always struggled with was everyone’s black and white style of thinking in any of these conversations.
You’ve lived in the shades of gray your whole life; being loosely connected to the underbelly of California crime—thanks to your father—you learned early that there is more to every person and story than what you see on the surface. It has made you a fascinating debate partner across campus, but it also hasn’t allowed you to build close connections. Most of your friends were for the accords, even your oldest friend turned on her obsession of Captain America before he went AWOL. By that point you didn’t have much time for friends or partners anyways; especially once your father sent you a rather ominous message.
“Your education trip is getting a little long don’t you think? When are you coming home?”
Despite this subtle threat, he sent over the funds for your master’s degree tuition. You knew time was running out. There was no way you would go back home, but you had to find a stable job and place of your own. Making a foundation for yourself became your sole focus. Friends fell away and contact with both your parents got more and more distant the closer you got to graduation, but you weren’t without connection.
The bookstore you found yourself employed at was one of the oldest in Brooklyn—a very sweet elderly couple ran it. They loved it with every fiber of their being and once they learned you were working towards becoming a published author—they fell in love with you, too. With their help you secured a stable income and a tiny studio apartment. They encouraged you to work on your manuscript every chance you had between customers and restocking shelves.
You finally felt like you were finding yourself.
Then, The Snap happened.
The memory of that day is ingrained in your brain; a nightmare you still have some nights.
It was only a few days after you had finished your master’s degree. The streets were relatively busy—as they always were on an early morning work commute—and you were cradling a fresh to-go coffee close to your chest as you maneuvered through the crowds. The summer heat hadn’t set in yet, but it was comfortably warm enough for you to have pulled out the shorter skirt you had worn that day. Its hem bounced around your knees with each quick step and twist as you weaved around the slow walkers and people too busy on their phones to notice you breezing past them.
There was a smile on your lips as you quietly sung along to the last song you had listened to on your record player. Coincidently, the reason you had been making haste was the Micheal Jackson vinyl you had put on while getting dressed because—as it always is with you and music—you lost track of time again as you belted out every lyric and melody.
Giggling, you moved again to avoid someone talking adamantly on their phone and found yourself bumping shoulders with another person. Still being careful of your coffee, you slowed your pace and turned, raising your free hand out to the person as you began to apologize.
Right before your very eyes, the person turned towards you and disintegrated into an ashy cloud of dust.
There wasn’t even time to fully process what was happening.
A cold sense of dread sank into your stomach, something you hadn’t felt since you were a child and your dad’s “friend” pulled a gun on you for the first time. The coffee cup slipped from your fingertips as they too began to disappear. The lid popped off as it hit the ground, spilling the contents across the concrete, but your feet left no marks in the puddle. A scream—that never came—built up in your throat and the world vanished.
In the next second, you found yourself gasping for air and standing petrified on the same sidewalk. It was sunset—not morning—and the air had the sharp taste of oncoming winter. The stranger you had bumped into was standing before you as well, and they looked just as terrified as you were.
Five years had passed.
Most of the people who returned still have a hard time wrapping their minds around it. Half the population gone in an instant and then brought back just the same.
What stuck with you though was that you were the only person in your family to disappear. From what you gathered across the news, the mad man who caused this claimed half the population would be chosen at random to make it as fair as possible, but for some like you, it didn’t feel fair.
Any friends you had managed to hold onto at the end of college had moved on; your mother had remarried and moved and your father—well, you still haven’t reached out to him and that’s probably for the better you think.
There was no time to dwell on the state of the world, or the loss of all your connections, or even having lost the opportunity to publish your almost finished manuscript. No—you had to rebuild your entire life from scratch and that hasn’t been easy. To your surprise though, there was one thing waiting for you: the bookstore.
After finding their family, you learned that they had grown ill shortly after The Snap. Their children convinced them to let the store go and retire while they still had time, but they refused to outright sell the bookstore. In their final weeks, they fought with a lawyer to set up a contract to have the store placed under your name for a decade before going to market. Every the optimists, they believed that someday someone would bring everyone back and make the world whole again—somehow, they had been right.
You spent your first week back in the bookstore, alone and mourning everything. The apartment you had was gone, almost all your belongs gone with it; there wasn’t a soul on the earth who wanted to speak to you anymore. From there, cold reality set in and the depression took over like a winter storm. Ever the fighter, you made the decision to keep going.
There was no reason behind this decision though. No guiding path or light at the end of the tunnel. All you know is you don’t want your life to be over, so you soldier onward.
Gentle, muffled pitter-patter rouses you from an all too common restless sleep.
“Fuck.”
Rainstorms usually don’t come around Brooklyn until summer and yet—much to your dismay—it has rained on and off for the past few days. An early rain is always better than a late season snow, but rain means water and you still haven’t gotten the seal fixed on the front door. Silently you thank the repair man—who came in and fixed the heating last month—for noticing it. You move that particular task higher in your mental check list of fixes, repairs, and shop tasks; despite the few months you've been at this, the list seems to grow instead of shrink.
With a heavy sigh, you heft yourself up into a sitting position. A sharp pain runs down from your neck to your hips as the floor boards creek beneath you. The room is pitch black, but with the ease of having slept on the floor of this room for almost five months, you raise your hand and flip a light switch above your head. An incandescent bulb hanging form the center of the ceiling flickers to life. It’s yellow glow gives the small office space an old time feel, aided by the fact that the desk across from you is more than likely as old as the store itself—a conclusion you came to when you first started working here. It serves as your desk, dining table, and kitchen counter all in one, with a small single serve coffee machine and hot plate taking up most of the space.
Slowly, you lift your aching body off the pile of blankets and pillows and hobble over to the desk. You grab a pink chipped mug and slot it into place before turning the coffee maker on. It's the newest addition to your makeshift home. You were surprised when you came across it just last month. By this point, the care for those misplaced from returning is dwindling just as much as the care for those misplaced by the returned. It's a pattern of struggle you are all too familiar with and seeing the coffee machine was a site that made you literally tear up and spend a few minutes collecting yourself before taking it home.
A quick glance to the clock above the door behind you shows it’s almost eight in the morning.
Your voice croaks as you mutter, “almost four hours of actual sleep. New record.”
The steady thrum of the coffee machine fills the space as the smell seeps into your skin. You take a deep breathe in, holding it for a few moments before letting it go as you rest your hands on the desk and step back into a slow stretch, head tipping as far forward between your arms as your spine will allow. There's a dull throb as you push a little deeper making you stop and hold until the machine beeps. A strained sigh escapes as you pull yourself upright. You take out a dry creamer container form a wicker basket beside your feet, mixing it in until the coffee reaches your preferred color. You take a sip to confirm it’s the right ratio, humming as the warmth travels down your body.
Instead of letting yourself relish the feeling, you turn and bend down to grab your wrinkled day clothes and let the haze of daily routine slip over your consciousness.
Once dressed—smoothing the wrinkles of your skirt as best you can—you walk through the store and unlock the front door, roll up the shutters, and flip the sign on the door to ‘open.’ Then you do a quick walk through of each aisle—upstairs and downstairs—to make sure everything is in place before settling behind the front counter.
It’s not a large store by any means, and while it may be tight to wander through the three aisles upstairs, the lower section of the store has a good amount of walking space. There’s a smaller aisle leading to the back door and then one connecting the office door and front counter, with one side having been cleverly built into the space beneath the staircase. In the center of the wide aisle are two tables stacked with fresh books you finished pricing the night prior. Next to you—cluttering the space behind the counter—are boxes upon boxes of book donations from the years the store hadn’t been running. People continued to donate and drop them off since so many other stores and libraries had to start rejecting donations due to lack of space.
This is what you occupy yourself with as the day trickles by—checking each books condition and then doing quick goggle searches on the cheap tiny tablet you managed to snag from the donation center, to figure out the best price. A thick steno pad sits on the counter, filled with notes for each book you unpack: title, date, condition, and price. Some are crossed out with a thick red line to denote they were sold, while others have blue asterisks next to their title and a note about its edition number or rarity somewhere on the side.
Order in chaos: getting you through each new day.
The first few customers of the day are uneventful. A few pleasantries passed and a single purchase—which you write down in a separate steno pad tucked under the counter before crossing out the title on the other pad. The owners had at least managed to upgrade their systems to allow card purchases, but the inventory is still all done by hand and memory. Thankfully, opening a new bank account and attaching it to the store had been easy once the government reinstated your social security number—which took them quite a while to figure out.
You manage to finish the box you started the night prior. Once it’s empty and the books are placed on the tables, you take it out to the dumpster in the back alley. There's even more boxes tucked in the corner by the back door, which you maneuver around before snagging a new one to add to the stack behind the counter.
Finish one box, replace it with another: the never ending cycle.
It's sometime past noon, after a lull of customers that a pair of girls strolls in. The bell above the door chimes and you quickly plaster on your best smile. You turn, giving them a cheerful welcome. The pair are giggling as one waves a hand at you. You aren't sure if it's dismissive or friendly, but they vanish into the first aisle, out of eye sight. The faint sound of their voices carries easily in the small space, but you tune it out as always and open a new box to start catalouging.
As the girls come around the corner at the back—stepping into the wider aisle and sifting through the books on the far table—the bell chimes once more. Instead of looking up immediately, you finish scratching down the books condition. The squeak of well worn leather boots reaches you with light footfalls. You expect to look up to find someone of small build—instead, you are met by a six foot figure who’s large frame looks out of place in the space. Despite the poor lighting—due to a few blown bulbs that you can’t afford to replace yet—you can see that his eyes are blue or gray and soft. They’re gentle in a way like he’s aware of how heavy his presence feels and is trying to minimize it. Something akin to familiarity tickles the back of your brain as you take in his long hair and strained smile. There’s evidence of time in his features, wrinkles and creases around his eyes and mouth either form age or years of stress. None of this diminishes the overall thought bouncing around in your head—this has to be one of the most handsome men that has every set foot in the store.
Before the silence stretches on too long—and before you begin to look like a gawking teenager—you throw on your customer service smile and give a cheerful greeting.
"Afternoon," his voice is rough around the edges, with a slight rasp like he isn't used to talking. He takes an awkward step towards the counter and says, “I'm looking for a specific book. I wasn't sure if you'd have it."
Familiar territory. You ease into professional mode, back straightening as you set the book in your hands down. "What are you looking for, sir?"
The man gives a grimace at the formal title. He rests a gloved hand on the surface as he looks around, eyes calculating. "It's called The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien."
A real smile creeps onto your face. It takes some self restraint to not immediately gush about the book, the man is clearly older—probably in his forties or fifties—and you can't imagine he would want to listen to a young woman gush over a book he may also love. Prior to the Blip you had run into your fair share of Tolkien fans who hadn't taken kindly to a girl being as invested in the series and having opinions on his writing style—especially those who only loved the movies. They had many thoughts to share with you even when you didn't ask. Instead of jumping into a passionate speech, you take a second to pretend contemplation.
"I believe upstairs we should have a few copies of the whole series,” you tell him, gesturing to the staircase. “Check the first aisle, right at the top of the stairs and feel free to look at the publish dates for each version. We've had a lot of donations recently, so there may be a few older versions in the lot as well."
"Thanks," he gives a tight smile—not unkind, just awkward—and turns to the stairs.
You let out a slow breath as he ascends. His steps are just as quiet as when he came in, and you’re silently surprised to only hear the faint creak of the stairs instead of the usual loud creaking and groaning when most customers go up and down. Once he’s out of sight, you notice the girls had also been watching him, mouths open as they look to each other.
Their frantic whispers reach across the space with ease. “There’s no way!”
“That’s him,” the shorter of the two gestures towards the stairs aggressively as her face drops into a scowl. “I’d recognize that maniac anywhere after all the press.”
“Can you believe he was acquitted? Of everything?!” They both make noises of disgust and then break in to a fit of laughter.
The tickle of familiarity comes back and with it comes the image of The Winter Soldier. You recall the trials from a few months back, of the latest court sketch and press shot you had seen of him with Falcon—Sam Wilson. It could be him, you reason, but it also could be a case of looking too similar. You are prepared to brush it off, assume he’s a random person with a face similar to one James Barnes, but then one of the girls opens her mouth again and something begins to boil inside you.
“That man should be behind bars or six feet under. No one who has done the things he has should be a free man,” they say.
“Excuse me?” The words are out of your mouth before you can filter them.
Both girls look up in surprise. They’re standing at the table directly before the register and being this close, you can tell they’re younger—probably only in their first or second year of college—and their skin is immaculate in a way only makeup can conjure. A logo on one of their hand bags catches eye—Hermès. Between that and their clothes, their outfits probably cost more then double the average monthly rent. If you were to place a bet, you're sure they didn't bat an eyelash as they paid for them.
Once they process you and see the annoyance on your face, theirs’ melt into indifference.
“What? It’s the truth, I mean—” she leans forward to stage whisper “—did you hear the things he did?”
“Yes. I did.”
“See—”
“I also paid enough attention to know he was brainwashed the entire time,” you cut in, stare hard and unyielding.
“Still did it,” she waves you off, perfectly manicured nails being thrown in your face. “Just cause he’s Captain America’s best friend doesn’t mean he should get off scot-free.”
Rage is one emotion you’ve never had full control over. It doesn’t come out when you get angry though, it comes when you face injustice for others and are faced with a system that tries to put you and the people you love down. It especially comes out when entitled rich people step into your world and act just like this.
“Get out.”
The girls snap their heads to you. “What?”
“You heard me, get out,” you repeat while pointing to the door. “I have the right to refuse service to any customer. I’m using that right because, I don’t have the time or energy to argue with you about ethics you clearly will never understand.”
“Ethics?” The shorter girl starts towards the door as her friend continues to argue. “What is there ethically to talk about? He used his best friend’s name as get out of jail free card.”
“Incorrect," you counter like a practiced defense lawyer. "He was willing to serve the time and his friends stood up to testify for him and show that he was no longer brainwashed. If you actually followed the trial you would know this, but I suspect even if you did you would gloss over it like you people always do,” by this point the frustration and anger at your own situation, your own life; your own troubles, begins to bleed into your words. You can’t stop yourself though, it's been so long since you’d last let yourself feel anything and the rage is quick to fill the void. “Now, again, I don't have the time, energy, or will to explain why the man was fairly acquitted and I won’t stand for people who wish undue harm onto others and spread their misinformed views to shop here. So please, get out of my store.”
She opens her mouth, hand raised to point at you, but her friend grabs her arm and drags her to the door. Both mutter some derogatory term—more than likely racially charged—under their breath, but they leave with the too cheerful chime of the bell.
Silence folds in again, broken only by the rain. There is still a churning in your gut, your breaths heavy as you work to regain your even footing. Then you glance at the staircase—sound travels way too well through such a small space. There isn't a chance the man upstairs didn’t hear all of argument. Embarrassment consumes your anger and you slump onto the stool you had been occupying all morning, face falling into your hands.
Best case scenario: he isn't actually James Barnes and you two laugh it off.
Annoying scenario: he still isn’t James Barnes, but he is on the same side as the girls and you have to brace for throwing out another customer.
Worst case scenario: he is James Barnes and he's offended at you for defending him.
The anxiety spiral hits like a freight train. It chokes the air in your lungs; your hands shake as they drag down your face. With a long breath in and out you reach down and grab the book again. Your eyes stare down at the paper, picking up your pen with a shaky hand. You don’t see the page though. Your ears are laser focused on the floorboards above, listening for the tell tale creak of movement and scratch of books being moved.
Nothing.
The silence is defining.
Trained assassin—your brain supplies unhelpfully.
Eventually you see him make his way down the stairs, book in hand. You don't immediately look up and you try your best to not look as shameful and embarrassed as you feel. What you don't notice is his feet suddenly start making noise on the floorboards once he gets to the point where he can see you and read you. His footsteps and the book gently placed on the counter before you, would have announced his presence if you hadn't been so tuned in. You lay the pen down and turn to him with what you hope isn't a strained smile.
"Find it okay?" You ask as you reach for the book, checking the sticker tag.
"Yeah, didn't realize there was more than just," he waves his hand to the book, "this one."
Before you can think to fix your face, it scrunches in confusion. "Really? The Lord of the Rings is more popular than the Hobbit by far, especially given the movies."
He gives a small, tired chuckle. "Didn't even know there were movies. Guess I got some more reading and watching to do,” His fingers tap the counter, gloves muting the sound as he shuffles his feet. “Lot to catch up on still since being back."
Your smile falters.
This is in fact James Buchanan Barnes.
He looks down.
"Ya know," he starts, hesitant, "you didn't have to—ya know. You didn’t have to kick the girls out. They were just saying their opinion."
You pause to really look at him.
He's hunched in on himself, broad shoulders pulled tight. It doesn't necessarily make him look any smaller, but you feel the way he’s trying to pull his aura inward and how he wears his long hair untucked, loose around his face like a dark coffee colored shield. Unlike earlier, he’s resting his weight on the counter which gives you a clear view into his eyes. The eye contact is fleeting—his gaze landing for only a moment before he shifts his focus away—but it’s long enough for you to feel your heart trip into their steel-blue depths. Though, they could be easily mistaken for a still lake as you see the same hollow, self-deprecation reflected back at you. The small internal misguided view of self reflects back at you and you know deep inside there’s a part of you who craves kind words and gentleness; it’s easy to reason there’s a part of him that wants that too. There’s also probably a part of him that doesn’t think he deserves it—a part of yourself you’ve managed to get rid of.
Even though you have a negative view on your life situation, you know that these misfortunes don’t make you unworthy of kindness and love. Some days are harder than most—obviously—but you make an effort to remind yourself that when the opportunity presents itself you choose kindness and let kindness be given to you.
“Oh,” the word leaves you are a quiet breath.
Bucky takes another look up to you, and whatever he sees makes his aura shrink even more.
With a quick blink and mental shake, you look back to the book and reach for your steno pad. As you flip through the pages to find the specific copy he picked, you piece together your next words carefully. “She was just stating her option, true, but her opinion was misinformed. Especially saying you got off “scot-free.”” Upon finding the book listing, you grab your red marker and cross it out with a harsh stroke. You move your focus to the register, punching in the amount and taking a small calming breath before saying, “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through, but I’m sure it has come with a lot of drawbacks and struggles. Never judge a book by it’s cover as they say.”
“Even if that cover is as bad as mine?” He gives a strained, painful chuckle.
This time you make deliberate eye contact. With a genuine, gentle smile you reply, “yes, even your cover.”
The heaviness of the earlier silence lifts from the air. There’s a spark of something akin to surprise in his eyes; his face remains stoic if not for a slight loosening of his jaw. It’s a minor movement—almost inappreciable if not for the small distance between you.
A warm wave of joy settles into your system. The kind of satisfaction from knowing you left someones soul a little lighter than when you first met. If this is the only chance you’ll have to meet the infamous Bucky Barnes, then you know that’s the way you want to leave him. There’s no doubt he doesn’t have many pleasant interactions in his life and while you hate assuming things about people—you feel certain this case may be more true than even you are imagining.
Smile unwavering, you gently peel the sticker from the book and place it in front of him. “This one is on me, no charge.”
“No,” he pushes off the counter and reaches into his jean pocket. “I can’t accept that; I can pay for it.”
Shaking your head, you push the book towards him. “Consider it a,” you hum, tilting your head back and forth as you think, “welcome back to Brooklyn gift. Was this one you read before the war?”
The question makes him pause. His wallet is in his hands, but his fingers don’t move to pull anything out. Looking from the book to you, he quietly says, “yeah, it was.”
You aim for a casual tone as if speaking to an easily spooked feral cat. “Then this will bring back good memories, so it’s a gift from one reader to another. If you’re ever interested in the trilogy then I’ll let you pay for those, but this one is on me.”
He stares at you for a long moment—processing—before seeming to admit defeat. After he returns his wallet to his pocket he takes the book and offers you the first real smile you’ve seen on him. “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure,” you say. Nervously, you fold up the sticker between your fingers and look down towards the counter. His continued stare causes a faint redness to bloom across your cheeks and you repress the urge to fidget with you hair by placing the sticker on the pad under the counter.
Without another word—though it feels like he wanted to say something more—he takes his leave. As quickly as he entered your little bubble of a world, he leaves it with the cheerful chime of the store bell trailing behind him.
You expect to feel tense, expect to need a moment to collect yourself—instead you find a weird sense of calm settle into the shelves around you. It’s a welcome feeling. For the first time since you returned to this world you take a deep, relaxing breath and let yourself truly just sit in the feeling.
Something you’ve never said aloud—not even to your old best friend—is that Barnes’s story always struck a chord with you. You could never place your finger on why—all you knew is that similar to how deeply connected some people find themselves feeling to celebrities and their life stories, you found yourself in a similar state with his.There isn’t anything his story and yours have in common—that you can see from the surface—but a sense of connection has been living inside you. It’s why, for a creative writing project one year, you wrote a whole short story about the Howling Commandos—a piece of literature you know is still on your laptop alongside your manuscript and buried somewhere in the office beneath boxes of more important things.
“A once in a life time moment,” you whisper to yourself. Then the calm, serene moment breaks with a snort and you muttering, “and I’ll never see the man again.
It’s a simple concept: Students can buy flowers for each other at the carnation sale. Red flowers are for love, pink flowers are for friendship, and white flowers are for expressing secret admiration. A carnation fundraiser, an iota of possibility, and a longtime secret crush on your hot best friend - what could go wrong? ❤️
untouched - @buckyalpine
other parts: Tongue Twister, Date Night, Tipsy
virgin college bucky x virgin college reader (steve's sister) ❤️🔥
passing notes - @nastybuckybarnes
Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
You sit at the same table ever day at the little café down the street from campus, each day with a different book. Often poetry. And Bucky Barnes is always in the table next to you, usually doing the same thing. He either reads, writes, or sketches. One day, a dropped notebook leads to... something? Will that something turn to dust after an eye opening realization? ❤️🔥😔
sup, professor @/bbarnesjames - @aescapisms
[A Social Media AU] Bucky Barnes is the “most handsomest man” that you have ever laid your eyes on and oh, would you look at that. He’s your professor. [COMPLETE] ❤️📱
as friends - @jeanthebeans-blog
part 2
You and Bucky are friends with benefits, but the lines are starting to blur and you don’t know how much longer you can keep having sex as friends. Loosely based on “Best Friends” by the Weeknd. 🔥😔
sweet reverie - @demxters
part 2: right where you left me
bucky asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend but after what you thought was sweeter than a dream has you facing a harsher reality. ❤️😔
will we talk? - @winterromanov
Your hands remain clasped together until he’s far enough away from you, dropping your hand and grinning as he’s eventually lost in darkness. You have to hover for a second with your keycard in your hand, trying to gather your thoughts, process the events of the evening. Bucky Barnes like you. He likes you, not in spite of you, but because you’re you. ❤️🔥
one shots:
Chemistry - @viollettes
In which Bucky attempts to use chemistry to explain the chemistry between you and him. ❤️
know it all - @moonbeambucky
Your grades and patience are tested when you’re paired together for a class project with the one person you cannot stand, Bucky Barnes. ❤️
study break - @sebbies
you met bucky, a popular kid on campus, a year ago and became friends with him even though you have the biggest crush on him. he interrupts your study time. ❤️🔥
notebook - @softlyspector
Bucky and Y/N sit next to each other all semester. They never talk to each other, until one day they do. College AU ❤️
confess - @buckybarnesowl
You and Bucky have been inseparable since first year. Will you both finally confess your feelings, or are you doomed to a life of eternal pining? ❤️
she's not mad - @subwaysurf45
Bucky Barnes was a known people pleaser, it was second nature to him. After meeting you and getting close you both try to navigate his eternal stressed state, working together you try your best to tone down his obsessive ways. ❤️😔
nights like this - @writing-for-marvel
There are rules for friends with benefits, and you’ve broken the most important one: don’t fall in love with him. ❤️🔥
you next to me - @sinner-as-saint
Requested by @prettywhenicry4: “Hiii can you write something for punk/emo bucky? Him and reader are in college together and run with very different circles, they get paired up for a project and they’re always fighting but then overtime idk fall in love? But it’s so shocking for everyone around them cause they’re so different from each other” ❤️🔥
wanna be yours - @sinner-as-saint
Your best friend has been acting weird, and one night while you’re hanging out like you both usually do, he finally tells you why he’s been acting kind of different lately. ❤️🔥
cuffing season - @sinner-as-saint
Late at night, you’re at the campus library finishing up a paper. And it’s freezing. Like actually freezing, to a point where you’re not even sure if the heaters are working anymore. You’re still trembling in a dark corner of the study area when the cuddliest man you’ve ever laid eyes on walks up to you. When he sees you trembling like a leaf, the blue-eyed stranger offers to sit next to you and keep you warm for a while. Then, one thing leads to another and you soon find yourself walking home with him. And one thing is for certain, you want more than just his body heat. ❤️🔥
request - @sanguineterrain
Could I request college!Bucky x reader at a carnival with the prompt: “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.” ❤️
in plain sight - @world-of-aus
you drive home from college with bucky, your best friends brother ❤️
post-it - @crazyunsexycool
his is a college AU was inspired by a random picture I saw of people using post it notes to write messages in windows to other people in a different building.❤️
stress relief - @bucksfucks
they say an orgasm reduces stress—bucky puts that to the test pairing: librarian!buckyx f!college!reader 🔥
time to study - @navybrat817
Bucky told you he needed help with his studies, but you should have known he just wanted an excuse to kiss you ❤️
still on the list - @marvelstoriesepic
Bucky Barnes, the infamous frat guy, known for sleeping around and throwing parties left and right, constantly invites you, out of all people, to all of them. His intentions though remain a mystery to you. Following a troubling event that leaves you shaken and anxious, Bucky is there to pick up the pieces. Stolen glances and exchanged smiles gradually blossom into a connection that goes beyond what meets the eye 😔❤️
Summary: Your photographer boyfriend Bucky watches you doing your yoga routine one morning and gets ✨inspired✨
Word Count: ~1,800
Warnings: smut 18+ (minors DNI), Insatiable Bucky, Oral (f receiving) PinV, Praise Kink, Bucky being hot? idk.
A/N: my first (and probably only) fic. I love reading domestic-ish Bucky fluff + smut. This concept popped into my head and I couldn’t find one to read, so I wrote one.
It was a crisp spring morning in Brooklyn. You had just finished making some tea to start the day when you noticed the warm light streaming in through the window. It was perfect out! You took a sip of your drink and sighed in contentment, making your way to your yoga mat spread out in the living room. You always enjoyed getting a morning stretch in. Maintaining a regular yoga practice helped to ease your mind and ground yourself to start the day. Your boyfriend, Bucky, rarely joined you in your movements but he loved your daily practice too, for slightly different reasons.
As you walked past the couch you greeted him with a soft peck. He watched intently as you lowered yourself onto the mat and began moving through cat and cow pose, golden light tracing over your curves. You were wearing that tight little short set that he loved and your hair was pulled back into a delicate braid, small wisps dusting beautifully over your temples. You looked angelic–especially from this angle.
“See something you like, Barnes?” Pausing your routine to look up at him. Your tone was flirty, soft eyes never leaving his as you maneuvered yourself into a particularly appealing pose. Hearing nothing in return but still feeling his eyes on you, you called out to him again. “Why don’t you take a picture Buck, it’ll last longer” you chimed sarcastically, but Bucky didn’t hesitate. Letting out a small chuckle, he quietly darted over to his camera collection, grabbing a small polaroid model off of the shelf. "Ask and you shall receive, darlin’.”
Bucky found photography as his creative outlet shortly before you met him. He loved describing his photographs to you, what attracted him to each subject. How one photo could capture a single moment in time but still tell a thousand stories all at once. Eventually, other galleries and media outlets caught onto his work too and it became his career. You were so proud of him, you loved his work. Sometimes you even joked that he loved his cameras more than he loved you but you both knew deep down that you were Bucky’s one true muse. A few of his portraits of you even made it into some galleries, but he kept a special collection of photos just for himself to look back on with fondness.
Bucky came bounding back into the room, camera in hand and you couldn’t help but giggle. His excitement was palpable and adorable, you figured you’d humor him for a while. Tracking him through side glances, you watched as he moved around your body slowly appreciating the shapes and curves you created with each pose. The faintest sheen of sweat causing your skin to sparkle in the morning sunlight.
There was always a satisfying sense of calm with Bucky. You felt comfortable with him from the day you met. After your first date walking through the exhibits at the Whitney, you two became inseparable. He showed you his favorite parts of the city, you kept him updated on arts and culture. Bucky’s friends became your friends, your friends adored him and after just a few months you decided to move in together, finding the perfect light-filled loft.
Throughout getting to know each other, and especially when christening your new place, you couldn’t help but notice that Bucky was particularly insatiable when it came to you. Ever the gentleman, your pleasure was important to him and he always treated your body like a work of art; which is why you were quick to notice the not-so-subtle bulge growing in his pants as you moved through a series of hip openers on your mat. You smiled to yourself, teasing him a little as you continued to work through your routine as if nothing was happening. You didn’t miss how his breath caught slightly when you twisted into a particularly suggestive position–Compass Pose, his favorite. It was over for him whenever you did it.
Unable to keep his hands to himself any longer, Bucky set his camera down and stepped closer to you. Kneeling behind you, he ran one hand along your thigh and grazed your exposed ankle with his lips, landing a soft kiss just above your achilles. “Buck.” You warned slyly, “You have that call with the gallery in 15 minutes, don’t start something you can’t finish, Barnes.”
You lowered your leg away from him with a wink but he simply wasn’t listening. Moving you onto your back, Bucky basically had you pinned now--exactly where you wanted him if you were being honest. Tongue jutting out to wet his lips as slate blue eyes zeroed in on your supple mouth, he leaned down until your noses nearly touched.
“Don’t you worry, sweetheart. You know--I bet I could devour your sweet little pussy right here on this mat and still be ready for that call in time.”
Your heart rate spiked as he looked right at you, pupils blown wide. You felt yourself clench around nothing as a tender silence fell over the room. A cocky grin that rivaled the cheshire cat spread across Bucky’s face as he advanced on you, fingers caressing your partially exposed thigh. “Are you going to be a good girl for me, hm? Let me make you feel good?”
You nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact as he pulled your soft shorts down your legs, planting kisses in his wake. Bucky’s eyebrow raised slightly as he noted your lack of underwear. Moving swiftly, his soft tongue finds your already dripping core, placing perfectly timed strokes up your folds and over your sensitive bud as you panted in ecstasy.
“Already so wet for me, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” Deep, powerful moans left Bucky’s mouth as you pulled at his hair rode his face, taking everything you had to give him.
“P-please Buck. More. Want t-to feel you.” you chanted breathlessly.
Bucky sat up, “Yeah baby?” He grinned slyly. “You feeling needy this morning, huh? Want my cock in you?” All you could do was nod as he moved you both up from your mat over to the couch, stopping briefly to pick something up off of the floor. Standing over you, Bucky moved his hand down your cheek, thumb finding its way past your full lips. With complete adoration in his eyes, he lifted the polaroid camera once more. Aiming the lens right at your blissed out face.
“Look here baby, right at me. That’s it. Look at you. My pretty girl, All mine.”
Sparks erupted from your core as he snapped away praising you as he worked. After a few more flashes, you were growing impatient. “Buck, please.” you whimper, reaching up for him “I n-need you now.”
He set the camera back down, smiling before placing a soft kiss on your palm and moving your hand to feel his aching length. “I got you baby, c’mere. Got me so fucking hard for you.” You watched with bated breath as he moved to toss his shirt aside and started on his pants. You swore you could watch him undress that beautiful body of his again and again, forever and ever, on repeat.
Your heart thumped hard in your chest and you felt yourself getting wetter as his thick cock came into view. Jerking himself slowly, he hovered down over you and ran his tip along your folds, teasing you a bit. “This what you needed, baby? Doing all of those slutty little poses, teasing me from across the room.” He spreads your thighs farther apart, getting another good look at your glistening folds. “So pretty,” he groans when he notices you smiling up at him, ready and willing to take his length.
He sinks into you slowly, filthy lips grazing over your ear as he uses all of his strength not to plow you with force. “GOD–y/n, you feel so fucking good. Made to take my cock.” He shudders, grabbing ahold of your hand tightly and giving you a moment to adjust to his size, making sure you take every inch of him.
He moves in and out of you with precision. Savoring every movement, feeling you inch closer to your edge when suddenly, it happens–he hits that perfect spot inside of your tight wet heat and feels you clench down immediately before gasping a strangled “ohgodyes, Buck–”
Bucky’s eyes meet yours and you can’t help but notice a fire alight inside of his pupils “Yeah, you like that?” He grins proudly.
“You gonna cum for me, angel? Squeezing me so hard” he chokes out. Sweat glistening off of your bodies, vulgar sounds and high-pitched moans creating a perfect melody along the walls of your apartment. The smell of sex wafting in the morning air. “Let go baby, show me how pretty you look when you cum all over my cock.”
Your peak hits you almost immediately, crashing through every muscle in your body as you fall deeper into ecstasy. You nearly squeal as Bucky suddenly flips you back into reality, moving you on top of him, fucking up into you from below. Oh, he’s extra insatiable today. You steady yourself as he slides a hand down your back and palms your ass, tapping once lightly then again, a little harder as you cry out, trying to meet him thrust for thrust.
“One more baby, come on. You can take it, you can take what I give you, yeah?” Bucky’s desperate now. You look down at him, wide-eyed but he’s too busy pawing your tits and pulling at your sensitive nipples. He’s not stopping until you’re both satisfied.
“Give me another. That’s a good girl. C’mon let me feel you sweetheart.”
His cool metal thumb finds your clit at the perfect moment as yet another orgasm rips through you. “B-Bu-Buck! Ohmygod!” Your hips move wildly as your pussy gushes and you lean down to nip at his shoulder, leaving little marks as Bucky begins to chase his own high.
“I know baby, I know. FUCK–You feel like heaven. Never want to leave this pussy. Hold onto me.” Your bodies sync up and you both come crashing down together. As your breathing slows, Bucky pulls you close and starts peppering kisses down your neck and chest. “Always such a good girl for me. Angel.” he lowers you onto the couch, holding your back into his chest as your lids fall heavy and you drift off into a pleasant haze of satisfaction.
You finally come to a minute later, feeling a pair of lips gently pressing against your temple. A lazy smile plastered to your face as you watch Bucky make his way over to the kitchen island, plucking his t-shirt off of the back of the couch and putting it on as he opens up his laptop and joins his work call.
“Sorry I’m a couple of minutes late guys, appreciate you waiting for me. I’m feeling really inspired this morning, so let’s get started!”
Ok, so the mini-series I started as a one-shot has been growing in length but I still don’t think it’s going to be more than 5-6 chapters. So far I have 3 written and I’ve decided to post tonight once I get home and am able to proof read some :)
All that to be said… Be expecting a drop tonight!
Mini-series Summary: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader
Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?...
“Could you maybe keep it down a bit?” I winced, almost startled by Bucky’s sudden arrival. I had no idea he’d be back so soon, he usually spent way longer at the gym than just an hour. But maybe Steve had other plans and forced him to stop exercising and do something else for once.
It was a Friday night, after all. That was why Wanda and Natasha were on our tower floor, drinking and chatting while some pop music played in the background and I tried to find the courage to get ready.
“Of course, Buck. Sorry about it.” He shrugged but gave me a small smile like he meant to say that he knew I meant no harm. I gave him a smile of my own in return, and he stared at me for a few seconds before disappearing inside his bedroom, closing the door behind him.
I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Although our relationship was much better than when he first arrived at the tower, he still kept himself at a distance that was too uncomfortable for someone who was supposed to be my roommate.
I got it, though. I was aware of what he had been through. It couldn’t be easy, and I was determined to make him feel as welcome as possible in our little busy lives as the Avengers, but with his hiding and avoidance, my objective became harder and harder to accomplish each day.
“Still cold?” Nat asked, easily understanding what was going through my mind. I nodded automatically, before frowning in guilt at my best friend. I didn’t want to give off the wrong impression. He really wasn’t that bad, and she could be so overprotective…
“I mean, he’s just… it’s just so… he’s just so hard…” I should have expected the outcome, but it still managed to surprise me with just how childish my assassin/spy best friend could be.
“Ooooh…” A snort escaped me, despite my best wishes. She was just too much - most times. Rolling my eyes, I got up to start fixing some of the mess we’d left as my mind became filled with thoughts about Bucky. It’d become a constant ever since we met.
“To understand, Nat. Don’t get any ideas.” She just chuckled to herself, taking another shot before winking at Wanda.
“Too late.”
Bucky’s P.O.V.
I groaned for what felt like the millionth time that evening, unable to find any sleep. It was already hard with everything that went on in my head all the time, but now that I had this roommate to distract me, it wasn’t the nightmares that stopped me from relaxing.
It was her. It had been like this ever since we met when I became hypnotized by her soft eyes and how clearly she showed her emotions through them. Where everyone saw me with suspicion or pity, she met me with curiosity and kindness, and I was obsessed.
I even asked Steve if there was some way to live close to her, and so we ended up becoming roommates. But if I thought this would help me open up to her, it only made everything more difficult.
She was just too perfect. The smell of her perfume and the warm fog from her scalding showers always took me by surprise, prompting my member to harden inside my pants.
That was a reaction I’d become too used to being subjected to when around her. It happened when our hands met by accident, for even just a second, the softness of her skin contrasting to the feeling of my cock against my thigh.
It happened when she looked up at me from under her eyelashes, an expression so soft and coy that it was impossible to react any differently to her innocence.
It even happened when she addressed me with that soft voice, tone reaching me much like a caress in itself, immediately soothing the uncomfortable, instinctive answer my body wanted me to suffer through.
So there I was, in love or lust with her, and unable to express it. The fact that I had to start avoiding her so she wouldn’t notice my ever-present boner definitely didn’t help my case, and still I tried to be as great a roommate as I could to her.
Like when she was leaving for that party tonight and I was surprised by her dress for the evening, staring hard at the way it hugged her curves and showed just enough skin to leave me wanting more.
I wanted to tell her not to go. I knew what she was looking for out there, and I wanted to tell her she could have it right here. I’d give her anything, she just had to ask for it.
But I couldn’t. So I resorted to wishing her a good night, knowing at least once she was out, I’d be able to release some of the tension she provoked inside of me.
“Bucky, are you okay? Did you call for me?” I hadn’t realized just how loud I’d been until she opened the door to find me naked in bed, grasping my cock in my hand. It pulsed in time with my heartbeat, and it somehow had to justify why I was having such a hard time finding words to explain what was happening to her.
She looked so pretty, staring at me with wide eyes and an open mouth, all dolled up and ready for a night out with her friends. All I could think of was to somehow justify it with, “I-I couldn’t sleep.”
Her sharp inhale resonated in the room, taking over the sound of my own heartbeat as I remained frozen and her eyes remained on my dick. Then, she looked over her shoulder and announced, “Go on without me, I think I’m staying in tonight.”
The sound of the door slamming behind her startled me, taking me out of my state of shock. She walked with confident steps towards my bed, climbed it and started crawling in my direction until she was standing between my spread legs, her eyes fixated on my hard cock as she licked her lips.
“That looks so good,” she commented like she was talking about a popsicle I was sucking on or anything else rather than my aching cock which throbbed in my hands as she tilted her head and looked me in the eye. “Can I taste it?”
A shiver went down my spine, my body, at last, comprehending this turn of events it never anticipated being a part of before. Since my brain was still having a hard time understanding that she was really here, that she really wanted me, I couldn’t help but confirm, “You want to have sex with me?”
The edges of her lips curled up, her hands reaching out to cover mine, restarting the movements on my cock. “Desperately,” was her response, right as I started panting from the stimulation on my member.
“I actually bought this dress hoping it would make you want to throw me I this bed and have your way with me.” What was going on? I couldn’t believe this was happening, and the fact that she didn’t stop touching me wasn’t helping one bit.
“But I thought,” I choked up as she leaned down to lick a stripe up my dick. “I thought you were going out?” It was the wrong thing to say, I knew. What kind of a person has the woman of their dreams in bed with them and feels the need to remind her she was supposed to be doing something else?
“Do you want me to leave?” She teased, thankfully not at all bothered by my dumb question. “’Cause I think I’m right where I should be.” Speechless, I watched as she pulled away from me and pulled her dress over her shoulders, leaving her completely nude.
“Touch me, Bucky,” she ordered, and I don’t think I’d ever been as happy to follow an order in my entire life. She really was here, in my bed. Telling me to do naughty, naughty things to her. “You have no idea how wet I am.” But I was eager to find out.
“And I want it rough.” That’s when my heart skipped a beat, a hungry smile painting my lips as I adjusted in bed to hover over her.
“Oh, you want to be my little bitch…” I shoved her legs open, groaning at the sight of the wetness that waited for me. “Is that it?” She nodded, and I leaned down to take a lick at her spread cunt.
It tasted like honey, and I was instantly addicted.
“And here I was, thinking you were such an innocent little thing.” She whimpered at that, spreading her legs further, as if to say ‘look at me, I’m as far removed from innocent as possible’.
“Stay still,” I ordered, slapping her cunt and groaning again at the sight of it clenching. “Let me look at you.” My beard tickled her as I slurped her juices, but she obeyed me and didn’t complain.
“Such a good girl,” I praised because she deserved it, and the sight of her melting against my sheets had my cock twitching against my stomach.
“Fuck, I need to be inside of you.” When she nodded eagerly, hands pulling me up to kiss me despite her juices still on my face, I knew I could slip my cock inside of her, and so that’s what I did.
“Such a fucking slut,” I name-called her then. I couldn’t believe that I was inside of her, that I had her on my bed, spread open just for me. “Such a stupid, wanton slut.”
Her moans let me know that she enjoyed everything that I was doing to her, but I wanted more. Gentle wasn’t going to cut it for what I needed from her.
Turning her around, I had her on her hands and knees, holding onto the frame of the bed as I pummeled into her.
“Is that what you wanted?” I yelled over the sound of our bodies together. “To be fucked like the slut that you are?”
“Yes!” She yelled back right as the bed broke underneath us, sending us into a fit of giggles even though I didn’t stop moving.
“Well, I’m gonna cum inside of you, slut,” I warned, feeling her channel contract around me, announcing her orgasm. “I’m gonna leave you dripping with me, like the whore that you are.”
She screamed as I thrusted inside of her a few more times, and then I let myself fall on top of her - being careful not to crush her as we cuddled naked on the broken bed.
The peaceful atmosphere of the night was interrupted by my phone ringing. “What do you mean workout?” I all but yelled at Steve, who was on the other side of the line. “I’ve been exercising all night. Fuck off.”
Summary: The younger sister of the most talked about princess in the kingdoms really can’t do much except smile and nod. When Natasha, your sister, finally goes to moves all of you to Shieldshire to marry her beloved Prince Steve you are left with your art, all alone. But one Knight took it upon himself to keep you company, and that company was all you needed to get through wedding season. Will that company last or will it be ripped away from the both of you? A war is starting and it seems targets are being made.
Pairing: Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader
Words: 3.6k
Warnings: stalking, protective Bucky, mentions of poison, allusions to SA and kidnapping, fluffy yet angsty
Series Masterlist II Series Playlist
It had been a few days since your arrival and you had yet to see the outside of the castle, there had been so many wedding preparations with Natasha she asked you to come to all of them. As you sat with her to pick out flowers for her bouquet or sit on a very comfortable poof as she tried on her wedding dress.
Your mother was there as well when Natasha was trying on her dress, their top seamstress tightening her corset. You had worn one before but not enough to know how to breathe, your mother wore one every day. Your mother was brought to tears when she saw the tiara placed on Natasha’s head, you had never seen her cry before but your mother had the biggest smile on her face.
“Leave us,” she said and the seamstress finished the last measurement and left the room, “Y/N, that means you too.”
You had never been included in the wave of the hand dismissal before.
Royalty had a way of bossing around people below them, you’ve never heard your mother use please or thank you to any handmaid, servant, or seamstress in your life. Normally, if your mother asked you to leave- which is more than most people think -she’d say your name and add a please for good measure.
You almost let your shocked expression show when you got up to leave, placing a hand on your stomach and felt a stiff board that was there. You were wearing another gift gown you received when you showed up, Shieldshire’s dresses had a lot more boning than South Lands’ dresses.
“I will be going to the market today, mother,” you said at the doorway, “I hope you and Natasha have a nice day,” you knew your mother could see through your smile, she knew you could easily fake courtesy but when you made it easy to tell you were upset was worse than faking it.
“Sister?” Natasha quickly called, “will you wear a corset with me a few days before my wedding, maybe a week before to get used to it?” she was wearing one now, feeling the pain as she breathed. Natasha always had a hard time picking up on the fake curtsies, always thinking people were being extremely proper to her no matter what.
“You’ll never go through it alone, sister,” you smiled, “may I suggest wearing Shieldshire’s gowns, they’re tighter than ours.” Natasha smiled and nodded, her chest almost spilling out of the front of her dress. It was her wedding soon, you would be evil to be mean to her in this moment.
“Thank you,” she whispered before you closed the door.
“Princess Y/N,” a guard had approached, “do you need an escort, where are you heading?” he smiled.
“I’m going to the market, I would like to find some fabrics and dresses,” you smiled and walked past him, knowing you didn’t need an escort when going to the market near castle walls.
“Then you will need an escort,” the knight walked beside you and turned in front of you, “I will accompany you.”
“I don’t need one,” you laughed, “I’m very capable on my own, thank you.”
“I do not doubt that, Princess,” he laughed, “but it is castle rules, you are leaving so you’ll need an escort.”
“But I was told I do not need one, that if I was just going to the market near the castle I would always be in a knight's eyesight.” your voice went up as you talked, seeing the confusion on the knight’s face.
“May I ask who told you that, Princess?” his voice shook.
“I-I don’t know, he came into my room and told me my art would be coming and told me what I told you…was he lying?” you stepped forward with a furrowed brow, “what is the matter?”
“You go back to your chambers,” he said quickly, “someone will be there soon.”
“What is going on?” you asked as he walked you back, “you must tell me!” you shouted as he pushed you into your room and closed the door, the sound of it locking caused you to stomp your foot, something you could get slapped for.
You sat on the edge of your bed with your arms crossed, a pout on your face. You just wanted new dresses and to survey the land for painting spots, the last thing you wanted was to be locked in your room, not understanding anything. Your mind wandered and you wondered if you’d get in trouble for this, your mother seemed to have enough of you already, and you didn’t want to see how mad she’d get if she found you had caused a scene. Natasha had enough stress on her already. Though she was older than you, both of you knew she relied on you for comfort. Her wedding means so much to her that you wanted it to go as smoothly as possible.
There was a knock at the door, “Princess Y/N?” the voice was muffled, “it is Ser James, may I open the door?”
“It is locked,” you said as you stood.
When you reached the door it was already open, James stood in the doorway, “and I have a key.”
“Lucky you,” you rolled your eyes and turned around going back to your bed, “you may come in.”
James entered but left the door slightly open, “I’m here to escort you to the market, I heard you would like to shop.”
You looked over at him, “why?” he seemed very confused like the last knight, “I was told you don’t need an escort if you’re near castle walls, am I missing something?”
He let out a deep sigh, “I’m afraid you are,” his hands joined together, “the man that was in your room was not a man of Shieldshire or South Lands,” he slowly looked up to you, “he was a spy, from Hydra’s Hill, he was caught yesterday when he was sending a pigeon back to his home,” Natasha and Steve communicated through messenger pigeons, it was common and the main form of communication amongst royals.
You could feel your blood running cold, “he was able to enter my room…h-he must have had a key…how could he have-”
James quickly sat next to you on your bed, “do not worry, Princess,” he calmed, “he had been taken care of. But you, Princess Natasha, and Lady Melina are being watched closely, we do not know who is a spy.” he smiled when you began to calm down, “I will be your personal escort wherever you’d like, I’m going to keep you safe because that is my job.” only now did you notice a slightly heavier tunic and chain mail covering his chest, he was also wearing padded pants.
“Ser James,” you stood up and brushed down the front of your dress, “you should be watching Natasha rather than me, she is a more prized possession than me,” you scoffed and walked over to your vanity.
“Princess Y/N,” James spoke slowly, “it is not the oldest and the one that is to be married who is more likely to be taken, it is also not a mother who had already been wed,” you felt him stand and step closer, “it is the youngest, that would be you.”
You slowly turned around and saw the worry in his eyes, “but wouldn’t they want the prized jewel?”
He shrugged, “sometimes it’s easier to steal the royal staff,” one hand grasped yours, “because it is not guarded as strongly as the jewel.” he slowly dropped your hand after you nodded, “let’s not ruin the day entirely, if you want dresses we’ll do get dresses, Princess.”
You nodded and began to walk, he followed behind you, “can you walk by my side, rather than behind me, Ser James?” you asked over your shoulder.
“Of course, Princess.” he walked beside you.
He walked beside you as you left the main doors, out into the sun. you stopped abruptly and so did James, your eyes slowly closed as you took in the smell of afternoon air. When you opened your eyes you saw people walking around, living their normal lives. James touched your elbow and guided you to keep moving, you walked beside him.
“So,” you started but never finished your sentence.
“So,” he with a smirk as he looked over at you, “what is it you want to ask?”
“When these younger princesses get stolen,” his smile fell, “do they normally get saved?” Your hands played with one another, silently becoming more anxious about the situation that has unfolded in front of you. “or do they...?”
“Please do not worry yourself with that, we’ll keep you safe here,” James shook his head, stopping in front of a vendor who sold fabrics.
“I’m just curious,” you said innocently, picking up some of the fabric and feeling it between your fingers.
“P-Princess Y/N,” the vendor seemed to be in shock, “what a lovely surprise,” he had a permanent smile on his face, “please, feel free to look at whatever you like, if you have your sizes we can make the dress and send it to you inside the castle.”
“That would be lovely,” you nodded, the vendor seemed pleased.
He stood back and allowed you to feel and look at all the fabrics. They were rich and soft, as you felt a sheet of purple silk between your fingers your eyes seemed to close, it was as if it wasn’t there; that’s how smooth it was. The vending table was made of a slab of wood with a tent above it, there were alternating white and red flags hanging off of the edges, there was a white tablecloth underneath the fabrics to make them pop, a black fabric under the white silks and furs to make sure everyone saw them.
There were fruit stands and jewelry stands with different colour flags hanging off the side of their tents, it seemed these stands stayed put but the vendors changed. People were walking around with baskets on their arms. There were families walking as well, kids running between a mother's and father’s legs as they played with a new toy.
You looked back at the fabric and picked up the purple sheet, “this would make a great wedding gift for my sister, I’ll have someone send her sizes,” you smiled up at the vendor.
“Anything for you, my Princess?” he asked, “see, this colour would look great against your skin, let me tell you,” he held up a dusty orange fabric, you touched it and it felt heavier than most he had laid out, “see,” his arms reached out to place the fabric against your chest.
“Watch it,” James reached in and grabbed his wrist.
“Ser James,” you chastised, removing his hand, “I’m sorry, mister,” you looked back at the vendor who was shaking, James was much larger than the man. “Continue.” It was known not to get on a Knight’s bad side, they were heavily trained and could kill in a silent but torturous way.
“I-I…” the man stumbled, “the colour would really compliment your skin, as seen here…” he reached out slowly and looked at James as he did, gently placing it upon your exposed chest and collar bone so you could see in the small mirror behind him.
“That does look wonderful,” you gasped, your hands feeling the fabric though it rested against your skin already, “it’s heavy, what is it?”
“A binding of silk and wool,” he smiled, “I made so many prototypes to get a ratio right, I’m very proud if you can’t tell.” it seemed he had forgotten about James grabbing his hand and was back to just having a conversation with you.
“I can’t sew to save my life,” you giggled, “I’ll have someone send mine and my sister's measurements to you right away-how much for all of this?”
“My Princess,” he shook his head with a blush, “not a penny, our town is so excited the Prince is getting married to Princess Natasha, this dress is a gift to you.” he couldn’t contain his smile, taking one hand and squeezing it between both of his, “thank you,” he said passionately.
“That’s enough,” James grumbled and detangled the hands, “let's move on.”
You didn’t pick up anything else, you didn't have a basket to hold anything in. James walked with you around the market and stopped whenever you did, looking around and surveying his surroundings. You tried to engage in conversation with him but his mind was elsewhere, he didn’t care that you liked the tree hanging down or the pretty flowers on display. You ended up getting a bouquet as a gift from the vendor, you held them in front of you chest as you walked, occasionally smelling them.
“They are wonderful,” you looked up at Ser James who was looking everywhere but you, “your kingdom has such wonderful greenery, don’t you think?” you gasped as you looked around, which ever way you looked you were greeted with some form of plant.
“Yes,” was all he said. Nothing enthusiastic, it looked like talking about flowers was pitiful to him; you swore you saw him roll his eyes.
When you were making your way back a man approached you and James stood in front, one hand out to make sure he could feel you behind his back.
“I would like to offer some wine,” he said as he held a small glass, “we would love to supply the wedding if the Princess will have us.”
“That is not up to me,” you said as you stepped around James, “but if it is good I'll be sure to tell my mother.” you reached out to grab a cup but James got in your way, taking to cup and offering it to the man selling it to you.
“You first,” James snarled.
“I’m afraid do not understand, this is a gift for Princess-”
“I know what you intend,” James pushed the cup towards him again, “but you drink first.”
“Do you think I want to poison the Princess?” he gasped, “I would never,” he swiftly took the cup and took a sip, even flashing his tongue after swallowing, “how poorly do you think of the common folk, Knight?”
“Alright,” you stepped in, “no need to fight, some of us are more paranoid than others I’m afraid,” you laughed it off, “I’d love some.” you took a sip and felt the liquid fill your mouth, it was very fruity and seemed to dance on your tongue, “it’s the bubbly kind!” you smiled, “I had it once when I was a child, with my sister, it was so splendid,” you cheered, “my mother never let us have it, it was a treat.” you took another sip and looked to James, “would you like some, Ser?”
“No,” he said flatly, “I can’t.”
“Right,” you shook your head, Knights can’t drink. You placed the cup in the man’s hands, “thank you so much, I’ll be sure to tell my sister.”
“Thank you, Princess,” it looked like his day was complete.
James had taken you back to the castle, you were now secluded from the population and on royal grounds. There were Duchess and Dukes walking past you, smiling and waving. James seemed to relax as you walked past other guards, he was walking beside you again and engaging in minimal conversation.
“No, they don’t,” he said out of nowhere, you had not prompted them at all.
“Pardon?” you stopped and turned to face him.
“Your question from before,” he said slowly, “you asked if the youngest Princess gets saved,” he paused, “they don’t.”
“Oh…” you looked to the ground and the loose gravel under your feet. There was this weird feeling swirling around in your stomach, as much as you hated how stern and straight to the point he was, you couldn’t get over the little curls that framed his face. He was talking about you getting kidnapped and all you could think about was those freckles scattered on his cheeks, you felt like you sister. “What-what happens?”
“If they’re taken for ransom, the price to pay is typically too high and the castle gives up the life for the greater good. If they are taken for a some type of warning then…well, there is a war,” he sighed, “as of right now with things brewing between all castles it seems someone would be taken for a warning, something dangle in front of another kingdom like a ragdoll.”
“Ragdoll?” your voice gave out as you asked.
“I do not mean to scare you,” he looked both ways before talking, “but you must understand what men will do to a Princess if she is taken.”
“I understand,” you nodded, “I’ve never been called that before.”
James’ face fell, “I do not call you a ragdoll, simply drawing from previous wars and explaining it that way, I do not think you will be captured, we’ve realized there is a snake early on and we’re are doing everything we can to protect you and your family.”
“Thank you,” you whispered.
“Let’s change the subject,” he smiled, “it too good a day to be talking about ragdolls,” James offered his arm to you, “I hear you like to paint?”
“I do,” you smiled.
“I have just the thing.”
********
The gentle spring day set the scene for the small pond presented in front of you.
The water was close to clear and as you stepped forward you could see a rippled reflection of yourself, there were lily pads and flowers floating on the surface of the pond, a few fish creating circulation. There was a shimmer running along the gently flowing water, it would sometimes reflect straight into your eyes but you wouldn’t mind, just slightly adjusting the angle you were looking at yourself from.
A calm breeze moved the trees above, shaking out a few leaves which were caught by the thick and healthy grass and water. You stood with your eyes closed and breathed in the rich air, feeling how clean it was and the way it opened your lungs just a little wider.
It felt as though you were already staring at a painting, the spring sun lit up the grass and trees perfectly. There was no flaw in this little patch of space and you felt a certain ownership of it. This was not your land or your kingdom but you knew you could paint this very well; that painting would belong to you.
The pond and trees were in a valley, there was a hill which is where James stood, giving you time to look by yourself.
“It’s beautiful!” you called up to him, making your way up the hill. Your shoes had come off and you picked up your dress which caused you to show your calf, “it’s only my leg, Ser James,” you laughed as you saw him look everywhere but you.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as you made your way up to him, slightly out of breath. When you stood beside him you let your dress cover your ankles again, he slowly looked at you to make sure nothing was on display. “Do you like it, Princess?”
“I love it,” you looked back to the pond again, “I’ll have to go and get my supplies and begin painting right away, I haven’t been this inspired since my last project which was so long ago.”
He could have cut you off in the middle of your sentence but he chose not to, “you won’t need to grab your supplies, your handmaid is on her way.” you found it charming that he let you talk, no one really did that before.
“Thank you, Ser James.” you bowed.
“If we are to be friends I hope you can call me by my name,” he leaned in with a smirk, “call me James, just James, and maybe one day you’ll call me Bucky.”
“Who’s Bucky?” you laughed, covering your mouth as you giggled.
“Still me,” he laughed as well, “just a different name for the same person.”
Your fingers toyed together in front of you, something no lady should ever do. “I have a small request as well…”
“I am at your service, Princess.” James smiled and slightly bowed his head, thinking you were going to send him off or you were going to request the most abstract thing in the world.
“I am not a Princess,” you spoke slowly and saw the way his brow creased, “I’m just a Lady, I’m Lady Y/N and I would prefer you’d call me that instead of Princess.”
“Pardon my confusion,” he shook his head, “but how are you not a Princess?”
“Because I am not set to marry,” your eyes flickered to his and expected him to laugh or begin to question who you really were. Women who were high-born are promised to marry someone before they are even born, Natasha was promised to marry Steve before she entered womanhood.
“Pardon my confusion again,” he rubbed his forehead as his head continued to shake slightly, “but how on Earth are you not set to marry?”
“Because I-...” your eyes moved over James’ shoulder to see Bellona, your handmaid walking up with your art supplies wrapped up in her arms, “I should help her,” you stepped past him but he caught your arm, his hands grasping around your forearm which was covered by silk, you could hear Bellone stop and gasp at the sight of a Knight gently holding your elbow.
“We will finish this conversation, yes?” he was not mad, more concerned. His blue eyes flickered between yours to try and search for an answer, when he found nothing he slowly let your arm go, “pardon me for such aggression,” he whispered and wiped down the front of his tunic and chainmail though it was not creased.
“You’re forgiven…” you paused, “James.”
When you walked up to Bellona she was worried, having just seen a Knight grab your elbow, “do you need me to find-”
“I’m fine,” you smiled, “he’s a friend, don't worry,” you gathered the supplies and thanked her before turning back and setting up your easel so you could begin to paint.
“It had been a great afternoon…” James smiled when you looked at him with a nod, “if you need anything, let me know, alright?”
Summary: Reader has had a particularly rough mission. It's not out of the ordinary for her best friend to want to help her relax, but Bucky decides to stick around after running her a bubble bath.
Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Friends to lovers, Female Reader
As soon as the quinjet landed, I leapt out of my seat, eager to leave this mission behind. It had been a long three weeks in Warsaw; two weeks longer than we had been prepared for, and much more gruelling than we’d expected. Sam and Natasha weren’t far behind me as I stepped off the quinjet onto the pavement, welcoming the cool New York drizzle after the dry heat we’d experienced in Warsaw. I rolled my shoulders, stiff from the long flight, and turned to Sam and Nat.
“If Tony demands that we do the debriefing now, tell him to shove it up his ass,” I told them as I slung my bag over my shoulder. “We just spent three weeks on a mission from hell; we deserve to take the night off.”
Before either of them could answer, I was already halfway to the compound. I made a beeline for the kitchen, praying that no one had broken into my stash of Swiss chocolate in my absence. As I stepped through the door, I found Bucky pulling a bottle of water from the fridge; he looked as if he had just gotten back from a run, hair and t-shirt damp from the drizzle outside. He glanced up as I walked in, his brows knitting together.
“You look like shit, doll,” he pointed out, and I gave him a disparaging look as I searched my cupboard for my chocolate.
“Thanks, Barnes,” I deadpanned, but I knew he wasn’t wrong. My lip was busted, I had bruises along my cheekbone, my clothes were torn, and my hair was spilling out of the elastic that had been holding it back in a ponytail. I huffed, unable to find my chocolate and growing increasingly impatient.
“Rough mission?” Bucky asked. He had moved across the room and reached over me to pull the chocolate out of the back of the cupboard, offering it to me. I grabbed it, frowning, and closed the cupboard as I nodded.
“You have no idea,” I groaned. “I hurt in places I didn’t even think I could hurt. If I never see Warsaw again it’ll be too soon.”
“Warsaw is a beautiful city.”
“Not when you’re spending your time there uncovering an underground crime ring.” I opened the fridge and frowned. “Who drank all the vodka sodas?” I griped, and Bucky chuckled.
“We had a game night the other night and Scott decided he liked them a little too much,” he explained. “I have a better idea, though; how about I pour you a glass of this” – He pulled a bottle of Chateau d’Esclans Garrus Rosé from the liquor cabinet – “and run you a bubble bath with that coconut stuff you like, so that you can relax your sore muscles and wind down.”
My eyes widened at the bottle in Bucky’s hand. “Bucky, that’s a hundred-dollar bottle of rosé!” I cried. Bucky shrugged.
“Not like Tony can’t afford to replace it. C’mon, (Y/N), you love rosé.”
I bit my lip, but the thought of soaking in the tub with an expensive glass of wine right now was too tempting to pass up. I nodded, and Bucky grinned as he grabbed a wine glass before nudging me out the door to the elevator.
I stood at the bathroom sink washing the blood and dirt from my face as Bucky drew the bath for me. To anyone that didn’t know us, it would come off as far too intimate of a gesture for a best friend, but that was just the nature of mine and Bucky’s friendship – Living the life we did, we barely had any time for regular friendships, let alone romantic relationships. Finding someone with shared life experience was slim to none, and neither of us was really at a point in our lives where we were seeking relationships anyway. When I’d joined the team a couple of years ago, our friendship had come surprisingly easy, and for two people that didn’t trust easily, we had bonded quickly.
It was obvious that we were closer than most friends – after all, how many guys would draw a bubble bath for their female best friend without expecting anything to come from it – but it wasn’t like that with Bucky and I. We had each other’s backs, both in and out of the field, and just like I’d taken it upon myself to comfort Bucky when he was plagued by nightmares or flashbacks, he always took it upon himself to make sure I took care of myself after missions that left me feeling both physically and emotionally drained. We provided a normalcy for each other in little moments and gestures that allowed us to take a breather from our demanding lives without having to open ourselves up to anyone outside our circle.
“How’s the water temperature?” Bucky called from over his shoulder as I patted my face dry with a soft towel. I joined him by the large soaking tub I had requested Tony install in my bathroom, and dipped my hand under the water streaming from the faucet.
“Temperature is perfect, but the tub needs more bubbles,” I told him, and Bucky snorted.
“You’re such a child.”
“You’re the one that offered the bubble bath. No skimping on the bubbles.”
“Alright, more bubbles,” Bucky ceded, pouring more of the coconut crème bath soak into the water. I grinned as I hopped up onto the counter, watching him light the candles I had placed on the ledge around the tub. He switched on the little Bluetooth speaker I kept on the windowsill, and within seconds the soft, raw sound of Ed Sheeran drifted through the air. The tension in my body was already starting to ease, the music soothing and the smell of coconut and peonies filling my nose. Bucky opened the bottle of rosé and poured some into the glass he’d brought, and then set it on the ledge and turned off the tap.
“Everything’s good to go, doll,” he said with a gesture towards the tub. “If this doesn’t help you relax, I don’t know what will.”
“Buck, it’s perfect,” I breathed sincerely. “Thank you, really. You always know exactly what I need.”
“Hey, I know how hard this mission was on you,” Bucky replied, smile soft as he shrugged. “Figured you could use a little pampering. Now enjoy, before the water starts to cool off.”
He turned to leave, but I shook my head. “You’re not staying?” I asked, and he froze. When he turned around, he did so slowly, brow furrowed.
“Well, I wasn’t planning on joining you,” he quipped, and I gave him a disparaging look.
“Obviously not, you perv. But you don’t have to leave. I…” I paused, pursing my lips. Truth be told, this mission had been harder on me than most, and I wasn’t too keen on the idea of being left alone with my thoughts. “I wouldn’t mind the company,” I finally said, and Bucky’s face softened.
“I’ll stay,” he agreed, and I nodded, relieved.
“Good. Now turn around so I can undress and get in the tub. And no peeking – I know how you gross old men get when it comes to younger women.”
“Old man? Sweetheart, I can run laps around you,” Bucky snorted, but he obeyed and turned away from me. I grinned as I pulled my shirt up over my head and dropped it to the tile floor.
“Maybe so, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re seventy-three years older than me,” I teased, unhooking my bra and letting it fall to the floor with my shirt. I shimmied out of my tac pants and underwear, and then slipped into the tub. The warm water and bubbles provided immediate relief to my aching body, and I let out a soft sigh as I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the edge of the tub.
“Are you decent?” Bucky chuckled, and I grinned.
“Yes,” I replied without opening my eyes. I heard him cross the room, settling on the floor next to the tub. I peeked one eye open to find him leaning against the tub, back to me, and I shook my head. “Ever the gentleman,” I snorted. “You don’t have to sit with your back to me, Barnes; there are so many bubbles in this tub that you could easily hide three people.”
Bucky’s cheeks were tinted pink as he shifted his body towards me. “I was being respectful,” he grumbled, and I laughed.
“And I appreciate that, but I’d rather not talk to the back of your head.” I reached for my wine glass and took a sip. “This is really good rosé. I can’t believe I didn’t steal this from Tony sooner.”
“Me too, considering you have no problem helping yourself to everything else in the compound.”
I rolled my eyes. “Is this about the plums again? Christ, Buck, I apologized for eating them,” I breathed. “I bought you more the next weekend – I got up at six in the morning on a Saturday just to make sure you got your fresh plums.”
“I’m only messin’ with ya,” Bucky laughed and I glared at him, flicking some bath water at his face, which only made him laugh harder. He wiped the drops away with the sleeve of his blue Henley and then pulled a knee up to his chest so he could rest his arm on it. “You look exhausted,” he murmured, and I frowned.
“You’ve already told me I look like shit,” I grumbled. “Was that not enough?”
Bucky shook his head. “I’m serious, (Y/N). Did you sleep at all while you were gone?”
I bit my lip. “Not really,” I admitted. “It was a gruelling mission – Between the planning and the stakeouts and the chasing and the fighting, there was barely enough time to stay hydrated, let alone sleep. And talk about sore…Like, I know I need to wash my hair, but even that seems like too much of an effort right now.”
“Let me do it for you,” Bucky offered suddenly, and I couldn’t help the way my eyes widened slightly at his words. He continued before I could say anything. “Don’t make it weird, I’m just washing your hair – Hairdressers do it all the time.”
“Yeah, but…” I shook my head. “Alright, yeah. Sure. I guess it’s no different than when you dress my wounds.”
Bucky nodded, and then he was up and kneeling behind me at the head of the tub. I sat up, making sure the bubbles still covered everything, and then leaned forward slightly as Bucky grabbed the handheld shower head. He tested the temperature of the stream before his fingers nimbly freed my hair from its tie and let the stream of warm water wash over my unruly curls. He was surprisingly gentle, vibranium hand directing the water while his flesh hand smoothed out my hair, making sure it was evenly damp.
“Use the shampoo that smells like rose petals,” I told him quietly. “It’s my favourite.”
Silently, Bucky reached for the pink bottle of shampoo. I could hear the pop of the cap, and then he was gathering my hair in his hands and combing through the tangled strands carefully, loosening the knots as he lathered the shampoo through it. His nails raked lightly over my scalp before his fingertips massaged in the shampoo, and I couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped my lips as my head fell further forward.
“Feels nice,” I mumbled as his fingers rubbed gently at my temples, and he chuckled softly.
“Tilt your head back,” he ordered. “I don’t want to get shampoo in your eyes.”
I did as he said, and he gently rinsed the shampoo from my hair with the shower head. He then lifted my hair and draped it over my shoulder, and when the soft press of a loofah brushed across my shoulder blades, I jumped.
“Relax,” Bucky murmured, dipping the sponge into the water before dragging it slowly over my sore back. I didn’t argue, letting out a quiet whine as he ran the loofah over my shoulders and down my arms, washing away all traces of Warsaw from my body. Eventually, his hands replaced the loofah on my shoulders, and he massaged my aching muscles with practiced fingers until my body melted further into the tub, eyes drifting shut.
“Hmm, Buck,” I groaned as he worked out a knot at the base of my neck. “How are you so good at this?”
“I just am,” he replied. “How you feeling?”
“Like a damn Egyptian queen, being pampered like this,” I admitted with a giggle. “You’re spoiling me.”
He chuckled, knuckles brushing softly down the column of my neck before kneading between my shoulder blades. I bit my lip, holding in a moan, and as my cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment, I pulled away from him. I looked over my shoulder at him and shook my head.
“As good as you are at that,” I said quietly, “you don’t need to. Your company is more than enough, Buck.”
Bucky nodded, sliding back to his spot next to the tub. I let my fingertips glide through the bubbles for a few moments before lifting my eyes to his.
“Sam and Nat think we’re secretly dating,” I told him after a moment’s hesitation. Bucky’s eyes widened for only the fraction of a second before he nodded.
“So does Steve. He asks me about it all the time. Says we spend way too much time together to just be friends.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Which is ridiculous, right? There’s no rule that states friends can’t spend as much time together as they want.”
“Exactly,” Bucky agreed with a nod. “What do Sam and Natasha say?”
“Sam thinks you and I are too cute together to not be dating,” I scoffed, “and Nat is convinced that we fuck like bunnies.”
Bucky choked on the mouthful of rosé he’d taken straight from the bottle, and I swatted at his arm. “Don’t waste that, we only have the one bottle!” I cried, and he shot me a disparaging look as he set the bottle on the tile floor next to him.
“Yes, ignore the fact that I was choking,” he deadpanned, and I shrugged.
“You’ve survived worse – If a mouthful of rosé is what actually does the Winter Soldier in, then you deserve it.”
Bucky shook his head, “Ruthless,” he chucked, and then he cocked his head to the side. “So if we get caught in here right now, it would only reinforce what they already think of us.”
“Who cares?” I held out my wine glass to him so he could refill it. I took a sip before continuing. “Let them think what they think. We know the nature of our relationship; it doesn’t matter if everyone else assumes it’s more than what it is. What we have works. You’re my best friend, and I like the way our life is. Why change it or put labels on it? If they want to think we’re dating or fucking, whatever. We know where we stand with each other.”
Bucky nodded. “Right,” he murmured, and then we were silent for a few moments. Eventually, he leaned back against the wall, lifting his arm to rest it on the ledge of the tub as his fingertips skimmed through the bubbles. “The water still warm enough?” he asked, and I nodded.
“You do a pretty good job of drawing a bath, Barnes. I might have to get you in here every time I have a rough mission.”
Bucky’s grin was suddenly wolfish. “You just wanna take advantage of how good I am with my hands now that you know,” he taunted, and I couldn’t help the way my stomach tightened at the double meaning of his words, whether he’d intended for it to sound that way or not. I pushed the thought from my mind and stuck out my tongue at him.
“Asshole,” I grumbled half-heartedly, and Bucky cocked a dark eyebrow.
“Now, is that any way to talk to the person in possession of your favourite chocolate?”
My eyes zeroed in on the bar of Swiss chocolate in his hand; I had forgotten all about it, and I frowned. “Give me that,” I hissed, reaching for it, but Bucky held it just out of my reach.
“You touch it with wet hands and it’s just gonna melt everywhere,” he pointed out, and I pouted.
“But I want my chocolate…”
Bucky chuckled with a shake of his head. “So whiney,” he teased as he carefully peeled open the aluminum wrapper and broke off a piece. “Open your mouth.”
I leaned forward so he could pop the square of chocolate in my mouth, and then settled back against the tub with a satisfied moan as the chocolate melted on my tongue. Bucky grinned as he broke off a piece for himself.
“This really is nice,” I breathed after he’d fed me another piece of chocolate. “Thank you, Buck, honestly. You have no idea how badly I needed this.” I pursed my lips. “I’m not sure I even realized how badly I needed this.”
Bucky’s eyes were soft. “Because you almost never take the time to do things for you,” he replied. “You spend all your time taking care of others, but never yourself. Which is why I don’t mind doing stuff like this for you – Because if I don’t, no one will.”
I regarded Bucky for a moment, emotion heavy in my chest and rising thick in my throat. He wasn’t wrong; I hardly took time to myself, and after awhile it had the tendency to wear on me. But he was always there to make sure I was taken care of, and he always spoiled me in a way that nobody else ever had. Sometimes I took advantage of how good he was to me, and didn’t fully realize just how lucky I was to have him in my corner.
“What?” Bucky asked suddenly, and my brow furrowed.
“Hmm?”
“You’re staring at me funny. Why are you looking at me like that?”
My cheeks heated, but I grinned stupidly into the rim of my wine glass as I took a sip of rosé. “It’s nothing,” I mumbled, and he frowned.
“Seriously, (Y/N), why are you looking at me like that?” he demanded. “Do I have chocolate on my face? I have chocolate on my face, don’t I?”
“There’s no chocolate on your face, you goof,” I chuckled.
“Then what is it?”
I leaned back, keeping my eyes on him as I took another sip of rosé. “I’m just thinking how grateful I am that we’re friends,” I told him finally. “I don’t tell you enough how much I appreciate you.”
Bucky looked pleasantly surprised as he took in my words, his grin childlike and his blue eyes sparkling. His happiness brought a smile to my own lips, and I splashed some water at him with an embarrassed giggle.
“Now who’s looking at who funny!” I accused, as Bucky ducked his head. There were water droplets dripping from his hair to his shirt, and he shook his head in annoyance, though his eyes still sparkled.
“No splashing!” he cried, even as his flesh hand dipped under the bubbles to splash water into my own face. I shrieked, nearly spilling the rosé – It would have ended up in the tub if Bucky hadn’t reached across to take it from me and set it on the ledge. I gave him an indignant look as I wiped the water from my face. He was grinning as he leaned back against the wall.
“You don’t have to look so smug,” I grumbled, which only made his grin widen.
“Oh, I think I do.” He skimmed his hand through the bubbles and I gave him a wary look, but he shook his head. “Relax, I won’t splash you,” he chuckled. He watched the bubbles fizzle and pop on his hand before lifting his eyes to mine. “Surely you’re turned into a prune in there by now.”
“Nope, still smooth as a dolphin,” I replied, and to prove my point I lifted a leg out of the water and let my foot rest against the edge of the tub. Bucky’s eyes lingered on the exposed skin of my thigh a few seconds longer than necessary, and my stomach flipped. I drew my leg back under the bubbles, and Bucky’s eyes fell back to the hand that was still gliding idly through the water.
“Y’know, I never really understood the point of having a bath for anything other than cleaning yourself,” he admitted after a few minutes, “but I think now I get it.” His hand continued to slide through the bubbles, leaving ripples in the water below that washed softly against my body. I bit my lip, pleasantly surprised at how nice it felt. “I mean, I just look at how relaxed you are compared to when you got off the quinjet,” he continued, “and it makes me wonder why I’ve never done this before.”
“So you’re saying the next time you’re having a bad day, you want me to draw you a bath like this?” I teased. Bucky’s lips quirked up at the corners, and he shrugged.
“I’m saying I’m not opposed to the idea of a relaxing bath if it’s gonna be like this.”
I don’t know what came over me then, but I sat up and leaned towards him, the bubbles just barely covering the tops of my breasts as I draped myself over the side of the tub, chin resting on my arm as I regarded him with half-lidded eyes.
“Like what, exactly?” I murmured, and I watched the apple in Bucky’s throat as he swallowed. His face remained passive, though, and he shrugged.
“So…enchanting,” he finally said, his hand breezing through the water just centimetres from my torso. My heartbeat quickened, and I didn’t think as I reached out a hand to trace my fingertips lightly over the vibranium appendage resting on his knee. His hand in the water stilled, and I felt his eyes on me as my fingertips smoothed over the cool metal.
“I mean, you’re the one that set this all up for me,” I said softly. “I’m just the one that gets to enjoy it.”
“That hardly seems fair, does it?” Bucky replied in an equally soft voice, and then he was brushing his knuckles feather-light over the bare expanse of my back. My breath hitched, goosebumps erupting on my skin in the wake of his touch. He grinned. “You’re shiverin’, doll; the water finally getting too cold?”
The smugness in his tone had something inside me stirring, and I let go of his vibranium hand to lean back, arms stretched out lazily on either side of me as I looked up at him from under my eyelashes. The bubbles had thinned out, just barely concealing my breasts, and I watched with a smirk as Bucky tried his hardest to keep from staring.
“Still pretty warm in here,” I purred. “Why don’t you find out for yourself, Barnes? You look pretty tense right now – Might do you some good to relax.”
I watched his chest rise and fall – Even, but heavier than it had been a moment ago. His eyes narrowed, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “This why you asked me to stay in here with you, sweetheart?” he asked in a low voice. “To torment me like this? ‘Cause you know that ain’t fair, after how nice I was to set this all up for you.”
I shook my head sincerely. “I asked you to stay because it was a long, shitty mission and I missed you,” I admitted, and Bucky’s face softened a fraction.
“Then what are we doin’ here, doll,” he murmured, “because I’m lookin’ at you right now, and all I can think is how soft your skin looks and how I wanna run my hands and my mouth over every inch of it.”
I couldn’t stop the whimper that reverberated in my throat, and my body trembled. I let my arms slip back into the water, cockiness replaced with submissiveness as I looked up at Bucky with wide eyes.
“Buck…” I whispered, and he shook his head.
“You gotta tell me, sweetheart. You gotta tell me if this is just playful banter, and I’m gonna leave when you get out of that tub, or” – He swallowed hard – “we change the dynamic of this friendship. Because if this is just a fleeting moment, I’m not gonna let it ruin what we have between us. But if you tell me you want me to do to you everything that’s running through my mind right now, then I promise I’ll give you everything. You’ll have all of me – everything I have to offer.”
I tugged my bottom lip between my teeth as I regarded Bucky. His eyes were wide, earnest and uncertain, and I felt the same – We were best friends. Nothing more, nothing less. As close as we were, the topic of expanding our relationship to something physical or intimate had never come up, except in a joking sense. And yet here I was, feeling things for him I had never felt for him before, and he was looking at me in a way he’d never looked at me before. A way that had my entire body warm and my heart hammering in my chest like a schoolgirl with a crush.
“When you say all of you…” I whispered, and Bucky gently took my hand and pulled me back to the edge of the tub. By now, nearly all the bubbles had dissolved, but his eyes were fixed on mine.
“I meant exactly that,” he murmured, thumb tracing over my bottom lip. “Maybe Steve and the others were right. Maybe we are more than friends, and we just haven’t realized it before now. And I know neither of us is looking for a relationship, but Christ, doll, right now I just wanna give you the world –”
“Shut up,” I mumbled, and Bucky’s brow creased, pain flashing across his features.
“(Y/N), I –”
“Shut up,” I repeated, more forcefully, “and kiss me, dammit. Please.”
Bucky’s eyes widened in understanding, and then his hand slid to the back of my neck and pulled my face to his gently. His lips met mine tentatively at first, but when my hand fisted around the front of his Henley, he deepened the kiss, tongue swiping over the seam of my lips until my mouth yielded to his. I tugged on his shirt, trying to bring him closer to me, and he broke away from me with a chuckle.
“(Y/N), you’re gonna drag me right into the tub,” he breathed, and I frowned as my fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt.
“You have too many clothes on,” I grumbled. “I’m naked and you’re fully dressed, it’s not fair.”
Bucky chuckled, nudging my nose with his as he swept his knuckles lightly down my arm. “You’ve been the only one naked this whole time,” he pointed out. “It didn’t bother you before now.”
“Well now it is.” I yanked at his shirt again, harder this time, and with an exasperated laugh and a shake of his head, Bucky pulled away to tug the shirt over his head.
“Better?” he teased, and I shrugged.
“Somewhat.”
Grinning, Bucky pulled me back to him and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. My hands found his warm chest, but I needed to feel him pressed against me, and with the tub between us that wasn’t possible. With a growl, I went to sit up on my knees, but Bucky was faster – He must have had the same idea I did, because all of a sudden, he was lifting me out of the tub effortlessly and setting me on my feet on the bathmat in front of him. His hands were firm on my waist, but his eyes didn’t waver from my own.
The air in the room was cooler than the water had been, and I shivered as it licked at my wet skin. Bucky frowned, grabbing a towel and draping it over my shoulders, but I shook my head, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as the towel fell to the floor. I pressed my body to his, revelling in the feel of his skin against mine, and the way his body trembled at my touch.
“You’re all the warmth I need,” I whispered, and Bucky groaned softly as he dipped his head to capture my lips in his. His hands travelled from my waist to press into the small of my back, drawing me in closer to him, and I smirked into his kiss as I felt the undeniable hardness in his sweatpants press against my hip.
“Yeah, I know you can feel it,” he chuckled, and I pulled away to grin at him.
“Kinda hard not to – It’s not exactly like it’s small.”
Bucky’s cheeks dusted pink, a mix of embarrassment and pride crossing his features. My fingers tugged playfully at the hair at the nape of his neck.
“C’mon, soldier,” I teased. “You’ve clearly got the equipment, now let’s see if you know how to use it.”
Eyes narrowed, Bucky growled and then my feet were off the floor and my legs wrapped around his waist as he carried me to the bedroom. He threw me onto the bed and I bounced off the mattress with a shriek before landing in the pillows. I propped myself up on my elbows, bottom lip tugged between my teeth, fighting the urge to cover myself up. The way Bucky was looking at me right now was unlike anything I’d ever seen before, like he had gone absolutely feral – His eyes were narrowed, pupils blown and jaw tight, his fingers twitching at his sides as if he was holding himself back. His eyes raked over the naked expanse of my body slowly, and I trembled as if it was his touch and not his gaze trailing over my curves.
“Fucking Christ, look at you,” he said in a low, husky voice, swallowing hard. “This can’t be real. This isn’t real. You’re too fucking perfect.”
I blushed head to toe, and ducked my head, suddenly feeling extremely shy and bashful. The next thing I knew, the mattress dipped and then a warm thumb was tucked under my chin, lifting my gaze.
“Don’t get all shy on me now, darlin’.” Bucky’s eyes were teasing, but his tone was soft. “I mean it. You’re an absolute vision.”
It was the sincerity in his voice, and the absolute conviction with which he said it, that wiped any remaining doubts from my mind. Reaching up and tangling my fingers in Bucky’s hair, I tugged him down to crash his lips to mine in a fiery kiss. He responded instantly, tongue seeking entrance. I parted my lips eagerly, our hot breaths mingling. His hands found my body and roamed over my curves, drawing goosebumps in their wake, and I whimpered into the kiss when he nudged a knee between my thighs to spread them apart.
“Buck…” I whined. “Please. I need you.”
Bucky kissed the hollow of my throat before pulling away to look at me. “M’gonna take good care of you, doll,” he murmured, voice husky, “but I don’t wanna rush this. Just need you to have patience and let me take care of everything. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”
I bit my lip, my body aching to be touched, but I nodded anyway. Bucky smiled softly, pressing his lips to mine in a gentle kiss. I resisted the urge to deepen it, and when he pulled away to nuzzle his face into the juncture between my neck and shoulder, his flesh hand brushed lightly over the inside of my thigh. My whole body trembled and I gasped, and I could feel Bucky grin into my skin.
“I’ve got you, doll,” he rasped, and then all of a sudden, his fingertips swiped through my folds. Not expecting the sudden contact to my aching heat, my hips bucked up into his touch as a breathy “oh” escaped my lips. Bucky chuckled, fingers gathering my wetness in slow, lazy strokes. His eyes were dark, but still soft. “I never thought I’d actually get to see you like this,” he murmured, “so vulnerable and debauched. Not for me. Not like this.” His fingers trailed up to swirl gently around my clit and I moaned breathily, hands curling around the blankets beneath me.
“Fuck,” I gasped. I wanted to say something, to assure him that he didn’t need to doubt this, but the waves of pleasure his touch was sending through my body had it difficult to focus on forming sentences. My hand grasped at the back of his neck to pull him down to me in a sloppy kiss, and when we broke apart I held his face to mine, foreheads pressed together.
“You’re the only one that gets to see me like this,” I panted. “Do you think I’d give up control to anyone else this easily?” I chuckled breathlessly. “You know I’m not a meek person, Buck, but Christ…Right now I’d give anything you asked of me, as long as you keep touching me the way you are…”
“(Y/N)…” he groaned, and then he was crashing his lips to mine in a hungry kiss. As his mouth occupied mine, he slipped a finger into my heat and I moaned into the kiss. When he added a second finger and stretched me out, I rolled my hips up into his hand and I felt him grin against my lips.
“Shit, you’re squeezing the hell outta my fingers, baby doll,” he groaned. I keened as his knuckles dragged slowly against my walls.
“You have too many clothes on,” I managed to huff out. “Take them off.”
“There’s the (Y/N) I know,” Bucky chuckled, and then he pulled his hand away from me to lean back. I whined at the sudden emptiness, and he winked before lifting his hand to his mouth and sucking his fingers clean of my arousal. My eyes widened, renewed heat pooling in my stomach as he spoke. “So damn sweet, doll.”
“Clothes off, now,” I growled, impatience taking over me as I sat up and tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants. With his help, I pulled them and his boxer briefs down his legs, freeing his erection. I bit my lip as my eyes took in his impressive size, thighs clenching to ease the sudden ache in my core. I reached for him but he slid a hand around my wrist, stopping me short.
“Not right now,” he said in a low voice, shaking his head when I looked up at him in confusion. “Right now, it’s all about you, sweetheart. I promised I was gonna take care of you and I meant it. Now, lay back.”
I wanted to argue, because I wanted so badly to wrap my mouth around him, but as soon as I’d laid back in the pillows, he was kneeling between my legs and kissing up the inside of my thigh. When his mouth reached my core, he ghosted a kiss over my clit before delving his tongue into my folds. I cried out, back arching off the mattress, but his strong arms pressed my hips back down as his tongue continued its exploration.
Bucky’s lips wrapped around my clit and I gasped, hands coming up to tangle in his hair. I tugged at his dark locks and he groaned into me, hands tightening on my hips.
“Bucky, stop,” I whined, squirming underneath him. He only growled and delved his tongue deeper, and I moaned at the sensation. “Please,” I begged. “Baby, please, I need you inside me.”
He stilled, and then within seconds he was sliding up my body and capturing my lips in his. I reached between us to take him in my hand, revelling in how hot and heavy he felt against my palm, before lining him up with my entrance.
Bucky hesitated, and I lifted my eyes to find him already watching me, blue eyes burning. I reached up to trace my fingertips along his jawline, brow furrowed.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked softly, and he shook his head.
“Nothing,” he insisted, but he was still holding back. I frowned.
“James, talk to me. Please. What is it?”
Bucky took a shaky breath before dropping his gaze. “I can’t do this without being honest with you, doll,” he murmured. I wrinkled my nose, feeling suddenly uneasy.
“Okay…?” I breathed. “You know you can always be honest with me, Buck. Tell me what it is.”
He lifted his gaze to mine shyly, and I’d never seen Bucky – Bucky, who was always so sure and steady and confident – look so nervous. My brows knitted together, and I brushed my thumb reassuringly along his cheekbone. He offered me a small smile, leaning into my touch.
“I really do think Steve and the others were right,” he finally said, his voice quiet. “I know that in our line of work, relationships seem like a luxury, but you and I are already more or less in one. We spend all of our free time together, we take care of each other when things get tough, and nobody knows more about us than each other.” Bucky paused, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His cheeks were flushed pink as he lifted his eyes back to mine. “I don’t know about you, (Y/N),” he whispered, “but I think, over the past couple of years, I’ve fallen in love with you and just not realized it until recently.”
I was speechless. For moments, I couldn’t find the words to say, still processing what I’d just heard. Bucky must have taken my silence for rejection, because he began to pull away from me, but I locked my legs around his hips and pulled him down to me, crashing my lips to his in a bruising kiss. I’d caught him off-guard, giving me the opportunity to push up off the mattress and roll us over so he was on his back and I was straddling him. Eyes widening and then darkening as he took in my naked form above him, he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and set his hands on my hips, thumbs rubbing softly at my flesh.
“Say it again,” I breathed, and Bucky’s brow furrowed as his thumbs stilled.
“What?”
“Say it again,” I repeated, tone both a demand and a plea. Understanding crossed Bucky’s features, and his grip on my hips tightened as he gazed up at me, a bit more confident than he was a moment ago.
“I love you,” he murmured, and my entire body heated at his words, stomach fluttering.
“Again.”
“I love you.”
This time, a childlike grin stretched my lips. “Again,” I breathed, and Bucky’s grin matched mine as he sat up, with me still seated in his lap, and pressed a soft kiss to my lips.
“I love you,” he repeated, peppering kisses along my jaw and down my throat. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
I giggled, ducking my head as he began to nip at the delicate skin of my throat, and then took his face between my hands and held his gaze to mine. I bit my lip, taking in the truth behind his words and the sincerity in his eyes, and wondered why it had taken me so long to realize it myself. “I love you, too,” I whispered. “Now please, Bucky; I need you so bad it hurts.”
With a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a mix between a groan and a growl, Bucky’s mouth attached to mine in a feverish kiss as his hands on me tightened. I lifted my hips and reached behind me to take him in my hand and line him up with my entrance, before sliding down onto him slowly until he was fully sheathed inside me. I whimpered and Bucky groaned, jaw tight as he forced himself to hold still until I’d adjusted to his size.
“Shit, doll, you gotta relax,” he rasped. “You’re so tight, I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“You won’t,” I insisted, rolling my hips against his and drawing a grunt from him. “Please, Buck, I need you to move.”
Eyes darkening, Bucky’s hands splayed across my back and pulled me tight to him before thrusting up into me. I cried out, arching my back into him, and we quickly fell into a steady rhythm, with me rolling my hips down into every thrust of his hips up into me. His hands and lips were everywhere, grasping and kissing and sucking marks into my skin, marking me as his. My body buzzed with electricity, on fire everywhere he touched me, the pressure building low in my stomach.
Bucky’s hands were firm on my back, his face nuzzled against my throat and his teeth gently grazed my skin, and my fingers tangled in his hair to hold him to me. My mind was in a heady fog, unable to focus on anything but the way Bucky was entirely consuming me, and it made me wonder why we hadn’t done this sooner. We were so clearly meant for each other – Even our teammates had seen that long before we had.
I started to giggle, and Bucky detached his lips from my collarbone to lift his eyes to mine with a furrowed brow.
“What?” he asked, and I shook my head.
“We were so dumb,” I breathed. “We could have been doing this long before now if we’d realized we’ve actually belonged to each other for months now.”
Bucky’s grin was wolfish as he delivered a particularly hard thrust up into me. I gasped and fell forward into him, and Bucky nipped playfully at the shell of my ear.
“We have lots of time to make up for,” he agreed, “but what matters is that now everyone will know that you’re mine” – He bit down gently on a mark he’d already sucked into my throat – “and I’m yours.”
My fingers carded through his hair, and then I was rocking my hips into his at a quicker pace. Before long, the coil in my stomach was close to snapping, and I pulled back to rest my forehead against Bucky’s, breaths coming out short and shallow.
“Come inside me,” I panted, and Bucky’s eyes widened.
“What –”
“I wanna feel you come inside me,” I breathed. “Please, Buck…”
“Christ,” he groaned, and then his hips began to stutter. He was throbbing inside me, and then I felt his warm release spilling into me as he came with a groan, burying his face against my neck. His release brought on my own, and I cried out his name as I clenched around him. When we’d both come down from our highs, he wrapped his arms around me and manoeuvred us so I was curled up against him in the pillows. He pulled the covers over us, and as his fingertips grazed along my arm from my shoulder to my wrist and back, I pressed a kiss to his bare chest and grinned.
“Next time you’re joining me in the bath,” I told him, and Bucky chuckled as he rolled over on top of me, his length already hot and hard against my thigh.
“Deal,” he agreed, “but how about right now you join me in the shower? I’m feeling a little…dirty.”
I smirked as he pulled me out of bed and into the bathroom. I could already tell being in a relationship with Bucky was going to make life much more interesting.
