Pairing: roommate!Bucky Barnes x reader
Summary: 🎵 What’s the point of all this music if I’m not here to dance with you? 🎵 While watching Bridgerton you comment on the effect of dancing on the protagonists. Bucky shows you what a good dance, with a good partner, can do.
Tags/Warnings: Songfic. Fluff and ballroom-ish dancing. Super soldier Bucky busts out those moves you know he has hidden up his sleeve from the 40s.
Word Count: 1.7k
Listening: “Something About Her” by Stephen Sanchez 🎵
Part of my Angel Face collection 💋 AO3
Instincts.
Whistledown spoke of it but you didn’t understand what it had to do with dancing.
For when all is said and done our nature will always win out.
There’s a wistful look on your face, but a frown too.
It looks romantic.
It is.
But Penelope dances with Debling and doesn’t seem affected at all, smiling nervously at him. Colin, watching from the sidelines like a prowling panther looks more bothered by the scene unfolding before his eyes. Hell, Penelope then dances with Colin and is too busy being annoyed to enjoy it.
In all the historical romance novels you’ve read, including these ones, the lure of a dance is what brings characters together. It’s supposed to be intimate, daring, a moment that breaks down walls between them and opens their hearts.
But this scene just doesn’t look like that, and it annoys you.
You have no idea that you’re muttering to yourself, and have been for some time, until your one-hundred-and-eight year old roommate walks in and frowns at what you’re watching.
“They’re just bad dance partners,” he says dismissively, and you round on him, startled by his sudden appearance but also taken aback at his deduction.
“W-What do you mean?”
Bucky walks further into the room, leaning with both hands on the back of the couch. You have to stretch to look up at him.
“A good dance is like…” He trails off, searching for an accurate description.
You offer, “Like sex? That’s all it is in clubs. People grinding up against each other.”
Bucky scoffed. “That’s not dancing.”
You feel an irritating urge to defend it, as often happens when the ancient super soldier takes a dig at something modern, even though in this case you don’t care for it at all. “Of course it is. It’s personal expression! Not like your old dances that were rigid in their steps and everyone had to learn the moves.”
“You know,” he says, standing upright, and suddenly you’re very aware of the towering height of him over you. “With the right partner you don’t even have to know the steps. They lead.”
You squeak.
It’s the only word to describe the noise you emit at those words falling from his mouth.
Blame it on Whistledown, blame it on being swept up in your feelings of the scene unfolding behind you—yes that scene, the carriage scene—but you feel your heart trip over itself at the thought of a man, specifically Bucky, leading you in anything.
You’re somewhat relieved he’s ignoring the television and the Give Me Everything instrumental building into its crescendo in the background, but you do shrink into yourself a little at the way he coughs out a laugh at the sound you made.
His eyes are boring into you with that rigid stare of his, and maybe he sees too much.
“Have you ever been lead?” He asks, his voice soft and low, and you stare into his brilliant blue eyes as he continues. “Ever given yourself over to someone else’s hands and trusted them to hold you through every move? Until you’re no longer walking but floating over the floor.”
“No,” you breathed, the barest whisper of a word.
His lips kicked up in a smile.
“Shame.”
He moves to walk away and you scramble onto your knees, hands on the back of the couch, words falling out of your mouth in an effort to keep him there.
“Show me.”
He pauses. Turns back to you. His brow furrows slightly, even as a smile plays about his lips.
“What?”
What, indeed. You gulp in a breath and stand up. “You’re so sure you know what you’re talking about.” Rounding the couch you take a few steps forward until you’re directly before him. “Then show me. Dance with me.”
The man who looked so sure a moment ago hesitated.
There was a war happening behind his eyes, you could see it as you peered up at him. Something flickered in the cool depths and you wanted to dive in and find what he was hiding.
You were watching so closely you saw the moment he decided to indulge you.
“Put on some of that fifties guy you like,” he told you, turning to push in the dining table chairs and making sure there was enough open floorspace in your shared living room.
Heart hammering, fingers fumbling with nerves, you switched off the television, found your phone and set your music to Bluetooth. All the while muttering, “He’s not actually from the fifties, he just sounds like it…”
Bucky’s chuckle is hidden beneath the beginning lyrics.
‘There must be something about her that you love, don’t you, dear?’
He’s standing there in the wide open space, hands and arms outstretched, waiting for you to step into his hold.
“First,” he says as you walk forward, “the frame.”
He took your right hand in his metallic left, as always surprising you with how gently the vibranium held you. His left hand clasped around you under your arm at your back, naturally forcing your arm to rest upon his. The long sleeve shirt he wore did nothing to hide the feel of his tight muscle beneath your hand.
You shivered as the warmth of his hand quickly seeped through the thin cotton of your shirt, and you pretended to ignore the fact that he clearly noticed.
He already swayed with the tune.
“And now,” his grip tightened as he smiled, “I lead.”
There was no other way to describe it.
Bucky swept you off your feet.
Your hand in his and his hand at your side, he guided you in a slowly turning circle, your feet naturally falling where he stepped. His sure grip and the pressure of his hands had your body moving exactly where he wanted you. The music moved around and through you, the gentle, even beat not rushing nor dragging, but leaving you swaying in his arms as you twirled together around the room.
Under your hands you felt his breath stir like he wanted to speak, and it surprised you how clearly you could read his body as he held you like this.
“What’s that story trope you like again?”
You swallowed thickly, mind whirling to catch up. “Slow burn.”
“Like a slow roast?” He mused on that as he turned you, leading you back down the length of the room. “I get it. Heat through slowly until it’s tender and juicy. Delayed gratification for immense payoff.”
Hearing tender and juicy and gratification from those lips felt like lightening under your skin.
‘Something about her terrifies all my fears’
“You know what’s sexy?” He asked, and you decide then and there that Bucky Barnes should never be allowed to say that word. It drips like honey from his tongue in that gravelly voice.
“Eye contact.”
Your gaze finally rose to meet his, and he held it, your eyes locked with his baby blues. You felt a little adrift at sea.
“Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“No,” you murmured, watching as the crow feet crinkled with his smile. “That’s not the word I’d use.”
“It’s raw and unguarded while this close, narrowing your view until it’s just you and the other person.”
You think about the scene in Pride and Prejudice when Elizabeth and Darcy dance and everyone else disappears. The crowd around dissolves as they spin and sway with each other. The world condenses to just them.
“Their every movement. Every change in their gaze, every breath they take. You can see it all from inches away.”
With his gaze holding yours and the sway of the romantic music flowing through you, you felt intoxicated. Electrified.
‘She sits in a smile with eyes looking through…’
He’s quiet for a moment longer as you reach the end of the room. Then— “There’s a way to play on that too.”
Your brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”
“Well,” he says slowly, and you watch as he lingers on the word, mouth curving around every letter. “If their attention is fully on the face, it leaves your partner open to the possibility of everything else.”
He swings you in another tight circle, his leg dipping between yours to turn you in the bend, and you can’t catch your breath. Somehow you come out of the turn imperceptibly closer, your chest brushing his with every step, and you hold your breath to stop every torturous graze of your body against his.
“See?”
You exhale on a nervous laugh.
‘What’s the point of all this music if I’m not here to dance with you?’
“You said this style of dancing was too rigid?”
The way he handled you, manoeuvred you, placed your body exactly where he wanted it—you were going crazy.
“Now, imagine everyone knows the same steps, everyone executing them in the same way. Then you and your partner are dancing between other couples and he’s holding you too closely, leaning into you too familiarly, and anyone could see.” He wets his lips and your eyes track the movement, staring at the wet shine as he murmurs, “Anyone might notice in a heartbeat that something is happening between the two of you.”
You’ve learned a lot of things in the span of a song. You learned you like the way Bucky said certain words. You learned you like to be lead by a good dance partner.
And you learned just how deeply your feelings for your roommate ran.
‘There must be something about her.’
The song drew to a close and he swung you to a stop, yet his hands held you a beat longer.
He doesn’t let go. Doesn’t step away.
The fraught moment lends you some confidence.
“I want to kiss you,” you whisper.
He swallowed, eyes shining as they looked down into yours, and he nodded imperceptibly.
But you don’t kiss him. And he doesn’t kiss you.
Instead, he pulls your hand caught in his to his mouth and his lips graze against your knuckles.
It’s somehow more intimate than everything else so far.
“I want to dance with you again.”
He nods again, a small bashful smile growing.
“That’s the point,” he rasps. “In the end you’re forced to step away from each other, and you realise how much you want to stay.”
It'd be wiser for me to run away from all I see
I can't resist, what good is love if not to miss
Your hands or your eyes or the way that yours just look in mine?
I'd die to live for any little part of this
a/n ! an ode to my favourite part of any good regency era story when a single dance makes the protagonists fall head over heels for each other
I don’t have a taglist! Follow @retoast for updates!
˗ˋˏ 18+ MDNI - please read all tags before continuing to a fic ˎˊ-
✪ solitary love → fluff, smut & angst
bucky x single mom!reader
⤷ when bucky finds himself falling for his waitress at the diner he learns that there's more to her than shining smiles and sunny side up eggs.
✪ learning curve DDDNE → fluff & smut
little brother!bucky x older sister!reader
⤷ coming home from college was never the same once you realized how much your little brother has grown up since you've been gone.
✪ love versus loyalty → fluff, smut & angst
knight!bucky x princess!reader
⤷ james will always be there to protect you, even if it has to be from himself.
✪ hero for hire → fluff & smut
bucky x female reader
⤷ you move to brooklyn with nothing but an overpriced lease, a camera you can’t let go of, and dreams too stubborn to stay asleep.
✪ dive into you → fluff & smut
beefy!bucky x gf!reader
⤷ bucky doesn’t like to be social, but tell him there’s a party with his angel and he’s there.
✪ all dolled up with nowhere to go → fluff & smut
bucky x gf!reader
⤷ bucky loves to see his pretty girl all done up.
✪ fading away → fluff & angst
bucky x female reader
⤷ youve always gone unnoticed, faded into the background. until bucky sees you.
✪ want to ki__ you (answers may vary) → fluff, smut & angst
avenger!bucky x female reader
⤷ bucky goes looking for a rogue operative but finds something else entirely.
✪ smoking kills → smut
bucky x female reader
⤷ meeting bucky at a bar sparks a fire in you.
✪ happy harvesting → fluff
grumpy!bucky x sunshine!reader
⤷ taking bucky to cut down your own tree doesn't go as planned.
✪ almost yours → angst
avenger!bucky x avenger!reader
⤷ bucky isnt yours and thats fine, you can learn to walk with a shattered heart.
✪ oops? → angst & fluff
bucky x female reader
⤷ what slips out in the dark cant be taken back.
✪ a rose a day → fluff
thunderbolts!bucky x assisstant!reader
⤷ what starts as a mystery rose turns into a bouquet of love.
✪ with it or on it → angst
gladiator!bucky x princess!reader
⤷ in a world ruled by blood, crowns, and spectacle, a gladiator and a princess choose each other anyway.
✪ cant break whats broken → angst
bucky x avenger!reader
⤷ when the sunshine finally fades, bucky sees the truth.
✪ you all along → fluff & smut
bfb!bucky x female reader
⤷ a summer of anonymous letters shapes into something much more.
✪ inferno love → fluff & angst
fwb!bucky x female reader
⤷ your love for bucky burns, but fire can consume everything in its wake.
✪ sticky confessions → fluff
roommate!bucky x female reader
⤷ bucky moves into your spare room expecting four walls and a place to sleep, instead he finds something that feels a lot like home.
✪ the winter huntsman → fluff, smut & angst
alpha!hunter!bucky x omega!princess!reader
⤷ a hunted omega princess and the queen’s enslaved huntsman are forced across a brutal kingdom—only to discover their bond is powerful enough to break magic, topple a throne, and remake the world.
✪ sweet as can be → fluff & smut
40s!bucky x female reader
⤷ you, a sweet and innocent girl catches the eye of cocky, flirty bucky, who’s used to getting any girl he wants.
✪ mowin → smut
⤷ doing buckys chores for him leads you to helping out in a different kind of way.
✪ modern day convienences → smut
⤷ bucky gets to adjust to the wonders of the new world.
✪ ass or tits → smut
⤷ we pose the age old question to bucky.
✪ anklet → smut
⤷ you don't wear a lot of jewelry, but bucky gets to see the most important one.
✪ wet dream wake up → smut
⤷ bucky wakes you up just the way you want him to.
✪ eye contact → smut
⤷ bucky doesnt like when you look away.
✪ gone too long → fluff
⤷ you miss bucky when hes gone.
✪ handlebars not required → fluff & smut
⤷ bucky wants to shave his mustache and you remind why you love it.
✪ birthday boy → fluff & smut
⤷ you make buckys birthday extra special.
✪ jackass → fluff
⤷ bucky makes your heart begrudginly flutter.
Summary: Despite heeding the warnings to stay away from that massive shipwreck and the terrible monster that supposedly lives within, trouble has the habit of finding you anyways.
Chapter Notes: Bucky and you both can't stop thinking about your encounter. You make a decision that may or may not be reckless.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, eventual romance, eventual smut, Sexual harrassment (not from Bucky), fighting, slight gore/body horror (mentions of a body being crushed, descriptions of bodies molding to fit into their surroundings), Bucky being bad at feelings, tags to be updated by chapter/full taglist on AO3
A/N: This took a while to finish, life is hectic and I've got other WIPs buzzing around in my head but I'm glad people seemed to enjoy the previous part so - on to the next!
Word Count: 4.6k
AO3
Previous / Next
The shipwreck is undisturbed as usual when Bucky makes it back.
Aside from a few stray schools of little fish, who live comfortably in the knowledge that they're much too small to be satisfactory prey for a creature like him, nothing ever wanders here. Bucky prefers it that way, to have his lair be a place where he can settle and brood in peace.
It also means nobody will even dare to try and steal his catch.
Bucky winds through the torn hull of the ship straight into his main lair. It's located in what was once the freezer hall of this boat, and is the only chamber he can completely stretch out in.
He doesn't have the fondest memory of this ship considering he is the one who sunk it, but it's now the only thing he knows to call home.
Bucky shoves the tuna carcass into the corner farthest from the entrance. The little fish might nibble on it, but larger thieves won't make it past him.
Then he tucks himself into the other corner and unfurls his tentacles.
Sweetling.
He'd called you sweetling.
Bucky presses his palms into his eyes in frustration and groans.
As if it hadn't been obvious to you both that he was much older than you. He just had to go ahead and call you 'sweetling', a term of endearment the elders of his youth once used.
Spirits above and trenches below, he should've just swam off. All it took was a shiny-eyed young female for him to lose all composure.
Mating between age groups isn't unheard of amongst their kind. But knowing that he'd just gotten you out of Rumlow's slippery fins, that you'd clearly been distressed and seen him as some form of saviour, coupled with your age difference makes Bucky feel...gross.
Especially since he's gone many, many mating seasons without a partner. No other Cecaelian has touched him in decades, and you were unfortunate enough to be the one creature to cross his path.
Bucky's tendrils twitch, feeling disgusted with himself.
It didn't help that you were oh-so-curious about him. That your eyes sparked with interest, twirling around him without a care as you so obviously examined him, how you eagerly let your tentacles explore his own. How quickly you got accustomed to having him close as he trilled at you, soothed you with his own skin.
He hopes you're clever enough to stay away. That your curious little mind doesn't dare to follow him. Most members of the consortium don't venture so far out, aside from when they leave as a hunting party. You being alone with not even Sam chasing after you tells him you have a tendency to wander off.
He hopes, prays, to the spirits and the stars you don't chase after him.
----------
You are trying your very best to not let on that maybe, just maybe, you might have met the Cecaelian your consortium so thoroughly shuns yesterday.
Sam had been deeply concerned at your hasty return, and you'd told him you'd simply been shaken from your encounter with Rumlow.
Sam, responsible leader that he is, had doubled the scouts around the territory to ensure the bull shark hybrid doesn't dare to return to these waters.
Sam doesn't need to know that Rumlow probably won't be back. Not after Bucky humiliated him so thoroughly.
You're grateful Sam is allowing you to stay in to guard the eggs. It lets you sit with your thoughts and feelings as you gently sway the hanging eggs in their cave with your siphons.
Your thoughts circle around Bucky.
See, visiting Steve is frowned upon. As an exile, none in the consortium are to be seen with him, all for the crime of having abandoned them for the surface world. But anyone bumping into Steve likely wouldn't attack him on sight. He had hurt them all with his departure, left an unstable hierarchy in Sam's hands for him to figure out, but...
...he's still Steve. The most people will do is shake their heads in disapproval.
Bucky is an entirely different case.
Most will not even speak his name. All the youngsters know about him is that he's a horrendous, corrupted creature, too dangerous to even be around. Trenches, all you knew about the Cecaelian in the shipwreck was that he was a monstrous being, capable of immense destruction, one who would slay his kin on sight.
The Cecaelian you met yesterday was nothing like that. Sure, from his display you can conclude that he most definitely is capable, both mentally and physically, of committing great acts of violence. But he had only met Rumlow with that, not you.
With you he was...oddly caring. An unusually shy, male Cecaelian, trying to soothe you to the best of his ability. He could've easily killed you. But he didn't.
Bucky is no monstrous creature. He might be abnormally large, but once he'd made sure to show you he wasn't a threat, you were able to look at him more closely.
And as you sit here, rocking the eggs in your self-made current, you realize exactly what you'd felt when your tentacles explored his.
You're realizing that you've never met a male that's captured your attention like this.
It's a sign of impending doom, really. You can't ever share this with anybody, can't tell you'd even gotten peripherally close enough to the shipwreck for Bucky to find you.
But now that he has, and now that you know what awaits in the shipwreck isn't some deep-sea horror, but rather a mysterious Cecaelian, your interest is piqued.
You want to try and see him again, if only to sate your curiosity.
You ponder over it for the rest of the day.
----------
"Trust me, Octoling, if that parasite ever comes back here, I will break his bones," Yelena boasts as she coasts through the water, whipping her elegant, slender tail fin for dramatic effect.
You smile at the thresher shark-hybrid as she flits around your group. You instantly believe she would. One good hit from her tail is enough to stun any predator - you have no doubt she could easily kill Rumlow if she gives him a good beating.
"That's too good for him," Ava pipes up, voice soft as seafoam. "I could just drag him down into a trench."
Yelena's tail twitches in excitement, delighted at the idea of having Rumlow's body be crushed by the merciless force of the depths. "Oooh. Good idea!"
Ava's tentacles shiver in approval, the colours of the corals refracting through her odd skin.
Where Bob is miserable at camouflage, Ava is too good at it. Instead, she has trouble staying visible at all. Her tentacles are transparent, and on occasion so is her torso. Sometimes, she lights up, which makes Sam suspect she's a drifter from beyond the drop-off, hatched in dark seas so deep that the sun doesn't reach. Ava claims she doesn't remember much - only darkness and pain, all-consuming pain, and one day, finally, light.
She's still in pain here, the sun and the lighter pressure don't quite agree with her. But she says her time down in the deep hurt much, much worse, and here, she can at least spook some other creatures for laughs.
You'd met for a little gathering. The three of you are watching Bob as he holds on to Walker's dorsal fin, joining him as he breaches the surface to do his flips and spins. You hear Walker's joyful clicks, a language that's so foreign to you yet one that has also become familiar, and Bob's cheerful trills. You and Ava hold each other's tentacles in an effort to keep her present and thus also visible, while Yelena swims graceful figure-eights above you.
You still have a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that Yelena will suffocate if she ever stops moving. Having to be constantly moving would make hiding and resting much harder. Meanwhile, Yelena moves even when she sleeps. Her dead-eyed expression had scared your soul out of you when you'd run into her taking a nap once.
You suppose every one of your bodies have some sort of drawback. You Cecaelians are masters at camouflage, and feel everything much more keenly by way of your tentacles, yet you're slower, often smaller than most and don't have the sharpest of weaponry on your body. Walker can spin joyfully and is a master at hunting even the smartest of prey, but he must resurface once in a while to breathe. And Yelena might have to be in constant motion, but in turn, she has sharp claws, sharper teeth, and her lovely, slender tail she can use as a weapon.
Yelena is an oddball, an honorary member of the consortium. As a pup, she was taken in by a solitary Cecaelian for a while, one Yelena describes as the reddest Cecaelian she's ever seen. Now, she's simply fond of your kind, and stays around in your territory.
Sam tolerates her presence, if only because Yelena once saved Bob from a rowdy group of adolescent shark hybrids.
You truly make a strange group. A dolphin with no pod, two Cecaelians with opposite camouflage defects, an unusually quirky shark and you, with too much curiosity and no sense for self-preservation. But odd as you and all of them might be - they're family.
Yelena eventually proposes a spinning competition to Walker, with Bob being the judge. Bob whoops and hollers as he twists through the water and air clinging to Walker's back, and cheers even louder as Yelena launches them into air. In the end, he is far too shy to pick a winner, so Yelena and Walker, competitive as they are, demand that Ava and you be the judges instead.
You're biased towards Yelena and her pretty tail fin. You can feel through your contact with her that Ava agrees. But devious as she is, she picks Walker, and relishes in the chaos that ensues, with both competitors loudly arguing like pups throwing a tantrum. Bob tries, and fails, to calm them down, and Ava's laugh echoes through the reef.
You love your group of oddballs. But you can't bring yourself to mention Bucky to them. You'd like to believe they would never hurt you - but you don't know if they would once they learn the truth of what happened yesterday.
----------
The next morning, you make up your mind.
You're going to try and find Bucky.
You give yourself the excuse that you just want to drop by, maybe give him a gift. Something to thank him for taking care of you.
You even know what to get. A reef not too far from here has been overrun by sea urchins. He'd given you a delicacy, and you'd give him one in return.
Sam eyes you with worry when you make your way out.
"You sure you're okay to go out alone again?" He asks, concern flashing through his eyes, all across his tentacles.
You nod confidently. "Yeah. Can't let one stupid bull shark deter me from my routines, right?"
You can tell Sam isn't quite convinced, but that he doesn't want to smother you, either.
"You sure you wanna go alone? I can ask Yelena to go with you," he offers.
You decline politely. "I don't want to stay cooped up here, and I'm not a pup. I'll be fine, Sam, I'll be more aware now. If something's wrong, I'll swim back to our territories, I promise."
It's the best he'll get out of you for now, so Sam reluctantly lets you go. You gleefully flitter away to the reef, happy for the first time to find it covered in urchins.
Urchins are finnicky things to eat. Larger specimen of your kind have trouble getting them open, often too clumsy to break their shells without completely crushing them. You, however, have no problems with cracking their shells with just the right amount of force.
You pick the urchins off the reef with ease. Your pouch is stuffed to the brim in no time, and so you take off towards the shipwreck.
You take care to go more stealthily this time. Your body shifts, flattens and folds accordingly, your bones warping to accommodate the shape, the shade of your skin changing in tune. To a more untrained eye, you look little different than a manta ray, soaring through the water. You try and keep your movements smooth, and your own scent subtle. You don't need another incident.
The ocean currents swiftly carry you towards the shipwreck. You can't sense another hybrid around on the way there, and enjoy the leisurely swim, watching shimmering schools of fish as you pass them.
Your carefree swim ends when you start approaching the shipwreck.
It's amazing, really, how large Bucky's territory must be. You think the shipwreck is still a ways ahead, and yet you can feel him in the waters, can faintly taste his scent amongst the salt. The scent feels like a warning to any hybrid who might pass by - someone dangerous prowls these waters.
You're not deterred by his warning. It only tells you that you're closer to your goal. He's here, and you get to see him again.
---------
Inside his den in the ship, Bucky is curled up and dozing.
He'd picked at the tuna carcass earlier and decided to nap after having eaten his fill. The waters are rather still today, so Bucky feels it's a good day to laze about.
He's about to slip into a soft, dreamless sleep, when suddenly, he senses a presence at the border of his territory. A Cecaelian.
Bucky heaves out a deep, tired breath, water filtering through the gills on his ribs, through the siphons at his hips.
He hopes whoever was fool enough to come here isn't looking for a fight. He's tired of fighting.
He takes another deep breath, and startles when he slowly begins to recognise the faint scent slowly inching closer to his den.
It's you.
Of course, it's you.
You, with your eyes full of starshine and too much curiousity in your pretty head.
With a groan, Bucky rights himself. He ought to give you a proper greeting, he thinks, as he slides out of the shipwreck and his skin slowly shifts to match the colour and texture of the ocean floor.
----------
It's eerily quiet, you think, as you get ever closer to the shipwreck.
Bucky's scent is even more intense now. It sends tingles all across your skin, and you shiver with budding excitement.
You know you're taking a gamble on whether or not he would actually be pleased to see you in his territory, but you have high hopes that he'd at least let you flee before thinking to lash out at you.
As the shipwreck slowly comes into view through the deep blue waters, you can't help but feel...disappointed.
With the way the elders of the consortium spoke of it, you'd imagined this excessively large, humungous beast of a ship, at least the size of a blue whale or two. But as you swim closer, you realize it's at most the size of a large commercial fishing ship. One of those that drag massive nets across the ocean floor and slug schools upon schools of fish out of the water.
It's the same with Bucky, you realize. He's not at all like the terrifying, tentacled creature they whisper about in hushed tones. He's large, and definitely dangerous. But nothing like in the tales.
The hull of the ship is burst open - from the inside. You always thought the monster in the stories had ripped the ship apart from the outside, deliberately tearing it in half and drowning humans for entertainment. But this? This looks like something was desperate to leave the ship.
Was...was Bucky in there? Trapped? The ship seems large enough to carry him, especially with his tentacles curled together.
Why was he on that ship? Had he...had humans somehow managed to capture him? How?
Before you can ponder more on it, you catch the sand stirring in a way it definitely shouldn't with the way the current is moving. Your body goes rigid, but you can't even try to turn around when a voice husks close to your ear.
"Curious little pup, aren't you?"
----------
Bucky has to commend you a little - you did notice his movements eventually. A touch too late to escape someone like him, of course, but at least you're not completely oblivious.
He does not know what to make of it that you seem to relax the moment you recognize his voice. He wants to stamp out that sense of security. You shouldn't have a desire to come see him. A sweet, young thing like you should stay safe with the consortium, not venture out to meet exiles like him.
"And disobedient, too," he grumbles. "Following me here when I told you not to."
You slowly turn around to face him. A small, sheepish smile creeps onto your face.
"You didn't say I shouldn't come find you," you say. "Just that I shouldn't mention I saw you to anyone."
Bucky lets out a growl. It's not angry, much more exasperated, which makes your smile widen. You're right about that, of course. But he'd figured you'd be smart enough not to swim right into a monster's den.
"And yet, every hybrid in the region knows not to come here. Unspoken rules are rules too, sweetling."
Bucky tries not to cringe at the word. It just slipped out. But really, he can't help himself, not when you stare at him with those curious eyes, wide-eyed and in awe. He can't help but call you that. You seem to respond to it, too, a slight shade of excited red brightening across your tentacles.
"I figured I could break that one this time," you say sheepishly, and reach for your pouch. "I brought...a gift. To thank you for last time."
You reach inside and pull out an urchin. Bucky's brows shoot up in surprise. The entire pouch is stuffed full of urchins. You delicately crack one open, exposing the creamy flesh inside.
"I don't know how it is for you, but most of the larger Cecaelians I know have trouble with urchins," you reason, holding it out to him. "So I thought that maybe, you'd like these?"
You look so genuine, so hopeful, without an ounce of fear in your eyes. Like the worst thing he could do is tell you he despises the taste of urchins (he doesn't, it's been ages since he's had them because you're right about larger Cecaelians having trouble cracking them open).
It makes something inside Bucky melt.
It's been so long since he's even met another of his kind, and here you are, bringing him delectable gifts.
"I...do like these," Bucky says quietly.
Your eyes light up, and you move the urchin closer to him, inviting him to partake. Bucky carefully plucks some of the delicious, creamy flesh out and sticks it into his mouth. The flavour bursts on his tongue, and his tentacles twitch in satisfaction.
He can't even remember the last time he'd tasted urchins. They're far too small to sustain him, and he could much more easily hunt for larger prey that won't poke and prod at the sensitive pads of his hands and fingers and keep him fed longer. Something so small like this is a succulent treat he hasn't allowed himself since he came to live alone.
His pleasure at the taste is obvious to you, because you smile wide and reach for your pouch again.
"I can crack them open and leave them for you," you offer. "If you'd like to be alone."
You're unusually conscious of his boundaries. What few Cecaelians that were fool enough to ever cross his territory usually came ready for a fight, the rumors having spread far beyond the bounds of Sam's consortium that a terrible monster lived amongst the shipwreck. Bucky has sent those away severely injured, or worse.
You're no threat. You're curious, and oddly sweet to a creature as wretched as him. And deeply conscious of the fact that, while he might not kill you on sight, he might not appreciate you lingering.
It's been so long since he's socialised with another Cecaelian. He's never been the most social of his kind, but he'd never been born of the sort that was used to live in isolation. Living amongst a consortium ensured you got used to seeing others, sharing your life with others of your kind.
He hadn't had that in years.
"We can share them," Bucky says against his better judgement. "If you'd like."
Something warm settles in the pit of his stomach at the way your face lights up with joy, the way your tentacles swish through the waters in clear excitement, flashing red.
You reach into your pouch, crack open another urchin, and hand it towards him again.
"I would love to," you say warmly, and Bucky feels as if he's doomed.
----------
The two of you quietly snack on the urchins you've brought. You don't force conversation, something Bucky is grateful for. He's no longer good with words, worried he'll say the wrong thing, now that he's decided to keep you around.
Strange. Just a moment before he wanted nothing more to get rid of you. Now the idea of scaring you off sickens him.
Perhaps he's been too lonely for too long. Perhaps the waters around the shipwreck are actually soaked with strange, human poison that has now addled his mind.
You watch him as curiously as you did the first time you met. Like you can scarcely believe he's even real.
Bucky doesn't exactly mind having your eyes on him. It reminds him of his younger days, before he was exiled, and lovely females would flutter around him, excited at gaining his attention and approval.
But you have no business being so...attracted to him. He almost feels sorry that you seem to be. There is no future to be had with him, not in the same way you're used to from the consortium. His is a life of solitude, away from any form of community. You even associating with him would mark you as an exile yourself.
It'd be cruel to pluck you from the safety of the life you've always known, no matter how very tempting you are.
Bucky notices your curiosity is not just limited to him. The shipwreck itself seems to...confuse you. Like something about it bothers you.
"There's a reason our kind warns each other not to come here," Bucky says quietly. "It's...unsettling, even without the creature living inside."
You shake your head at him. "That's not it," you reply. "It's nothing like in the stories I've been told."
Bucky quirks a brow at you. "Oh? And what is it like in the stories?"
You shrug, and Bucky is alarmed at the fact that you almost seem...disappointed.
"Much worse, for sure," you tell him. "I imagined it much, much larger. Large enough to carry a few whales, maybe. And with the way they described the destruction the creature who sunk it caused, I always thought it'd be split clean in two."
You look at the ship. "But this...this is just a ship those two-leggers use to fish. And it wasn't attacked and torn apart from the seas. Something inside..."
You shake off that line of thought. Bucky releases a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He doesn't want you thinking about how it'd been him who had been trapped. He doesn't want you asking questions about it when he can't even stand to remember it without feeling sick.
Your head turns again so you can meet his gaze.
"Anyway, it's not at all what I expected," you say with a smile. "Neither are you."
"What did you expect of me?" Bucky asks, already worried about the answer.
"Something horrid, between Cecaelian and beast, with an endless rage that'd drive you to kill any living creature that comes close to you."
You're honest, Bucky has to commend you on that. He's not surprised that those amongst the consortium that were there when everything went straight into a trench would paint him to be like that, a senseless monster with a lust for violence.
Your smile tilts upward again, however.
"I did not expect the monster from the stories of my youth to be quite so...handsome," you confess earnestly, eyes raking over his face and body.
Bucky feels his skin heat at your boldness. "Cheeky pup," he quips, and watches as you flush in annoyance.
"I'm no pup," you insist. "I've lived through more than fifty winters. I know I'm no elder, but I didn't hatch a decade ago."
Your tentacles swish in irritation, a sight that Bucky finds alarmingly...cute.
He realizes too late that his amusement must be written all over his face, because you huff indignantly.
"Regardless of what you think of me, I am old enough to know what I want."
"And what is it you want, sweetling?"
There it is again. Bucky is concerned at how easily the petname comes across his lips, even more so when he notices how you seem to appreciate it.
"I want to know more about this supposed monster that lives here," you say honestly. "The tales made me believe he would kill me on sight. Instead, he protected me from a bull shark, fed me tuna and is snacking on urchins with me. You are not what I thought you'd be, Bucky, and I want to know more about you."
The tips of your tentacles unfurl, reaching for his. Bucky's own subconsciously move to meet yours, and once more, he can feel you, taste you, and all that you are.
"You are far too curious for your own good, sweetling," he murmurs into the waters, keenly aware of how he's drifting ever closer to you.
"Maybe," you reply. "And yet you've done nothing to scare me off."
You blink up at him innocently, though he knows you're only feigning it. There's a soft, subtle heat to it, one that can still fade out if he makes sure to show you that he is not someone to associate with.
But it's been so long since someone looked at him like that.
"Do you want to?" You ask.
Bucky's tentacles twitch against yours. He can't recall the last time he's ever felt...almost nervous.
"Do I want what?" He asks.
"To scare me off," you say.
He should. He should not encourage you to stay here, with a wretched creature like him.
His treacherous voice thinks otherwise.
"No," he says, and some part of him wishes he could take it back. "I don't want to scare you off."
Your eyes brighten at that.
"May I stay, then?" You ask, your gaze hopeful.
Bucky chokes back his worry. He's already come this far, is in too deep. He'll be your end and he knows it, but he's been too lonely for too long and you're here and willing and so unafraid.
It's selfish and cruel. And yet, despite knowing you'd both be better off if he sends you away, his lips move on their own.
"Yes," he says. "You can stay."
Your face manages to restrain its excitement, yet Bucky can feel it through your skin. His chest feels tight, but he can't pinpoint whether it's guilt, or relief at the fact that, after decades of solitude, he's found a creature willing to break all social convention just to spend a moment more in his presence.
Summary: Despite heeding the warnings to stay away from that massive shipwreck and the terrible monster that supposedly lives within, trouble has the habit of finding you anyways.
Warnings: [EDIT: 18+ MDNI, eventual romance, eventual smut] Sexual harrassment (not from Bucky), fighting, slight gore/body horror (mentions of a body being crushed, descriptions of bodies molding to fit into their surroundings), tags to be updated by chapter/full taglist on AO3
A/N: Bucky Barnes just revived me from a two-year writing hiatus. I have nothing to say for myself. Not proof-read.
Also: A 'consortium' is apparently the word for a group of octopodes! And both reader and Bucky are Octopus-Merpeople (Cecalian)
Word Count: 5.9k
AO3
Next
It's a beautiful day out in the deep.
You smoothly glide through the water. Your duties for the day are done. You've helped the pups hunt for their very first crabs, taught them how to crack them open safely. You've also taken over a shift of guarding the unhatched eggs, giving Sarah a moment of respite to hunt for herself and rest.
Now, you're free to do as you please. You rummage through your little cave, retrieving your pouch to get ready for your daily swim.
You pass by Walker just as he zips up to the surface, breaching with his flashy grace and spinning in the air. The other females of the consortium only roll their eyes at his display. Walker's been trying to get the attention of a female ever since he's come to live with them. But you Cecaelians don't exactly appreciate this boisterous display.
You often wonder why he still tries. Walker is part spinner-dolphin, and while he could definitely mate with one of your kind, it takes a great deal of trust and affection for a female to expose her secondary sex entrance for him to even get the act done in the way his kind would enjoy.
So far, Walker's been without luck. He's gotten his fair share of rejections, having spurts of ink shot in his face often enough that you all wonder whether his silly dolphin self actually enjoys it. You know his kind have an affinity for enjoying poison in small doses.
He calls out your name as he dives low again, waving you over with a smile.
"You heading out for today?" He asks, swimming up to your side.
Your tentacles lazily billow around you, a not-so-subtle way of making him keep his distance. These dolphins are much too social for you, with little sense for personal space. But Walker's at least learned to read Cecaelian colour patterns, and knows that for now, you're relaxed enough to keep him at this exact distance.
"Yes. The pups and eggs are taken care of, so I'm out hunting for oysters," you tell him.
Walker flashes you a toothy smile. "You want some company?"
You smile right back. "One day, maybe. But that day's not today, Walker."
Walker takes your rejection in stride. At this point, it's devolved to a game he plays with the females of the consortium, and once again, you question whether or not he might even enjoy the rejection.
But you don't mind Walker's presence too much. He knows to back off as soon as he's told - a stark difference from the usual dolphin male - and helps Sam, Joaquin and the other stockpile food for the consortium. You don't want to leave him hanging.
"Maybe you could keep Bob some company instead?" You offer, and your skin emits small stripes of white when you notice how Walker flushes. "Take him on a hunt, maybe?"
Bob is a fellow Cecaelian, a sweet one, but born with a little defect. His shapeshifting is a touch damaged, the spectrum being a pure, inky black all over his body, to a natural blue colour, and finally a glittering gold. He's terrible at camouflaging, and often stays on the very outskirts of your cave system for fear of drawing someone straight to the heart of it.
As if the strange, rowdy spinner dolphin wasn't the one sticking out like a bright, flashy coral.
Walker seems receptive to the idea, and swims off.
Satisifed, you go and find Sam to let him know your heading out.
When you finally find him, he's already halfway through scolding Joaquin for whatever nonsense he might have gotten himself into. Sam's skin is pulsing with deep crimson, showcasing pure annoyance, why Joaquin flashes sheepishly. When he sees you floating by, Joaquin waves at you eagerly, hoping to get out of his predicament.
Sam turns to see you come closer. The moment his back is turned, Joaquin attempts to flit off, only for Sam to hold him back with the tight grasp of a tentacle. Joaquin puffs out in defeat.
"What'd he do this time?" You ask with an amused smile.
"Thought chasing after a lionfish because it was pretty was a good idea," Sam explains. "Got himself caught up in a swarm of them and forgot he could simply shoo them off by pretending to be the biggest one of them. Almost got his dumbass stung."
Joaquin grins at you sheepishly. You only shake your head at him. Youngsters and their nonsense.
Then again, Sam is well aware you don't stick to all the rules when you're out and about.
"You headin' out?" Sam asks.
You nod. "Looks like a good day for oysters today."
Sam trills in agreement. Then he floats in close, claps a tendril on your shoulder.
"Be safe out there," he reminds you. "Water can be shallow, don't want you ending up in any nets."
"Heard," you reply.
Sam leans in further, lowering his voice to a quiet whisper. "And tell the old man I said 'hi'."
You repress your smile, and nod at him eagerly. Sam squeezes your shoulder once more, then retreats.
"And remember, stay away from-"
"-the shipwreck, I know. Wouldn't want Great-Grandpappy Kraken to eat me, either."
Sam shoots you a glare, but you dash away with a laugh. As you leave, you hear Sam resume his scolding, and Joaquin's distressed trill.
-----------
The shipwreck carries a certain amount of intrigue to you.
The elder members of the consortium, including Sam, don't often like losing word about what exactly lurks there. But Sam knows you, your ever curious mind, and your exploratory nature. So he mercifully told you more about it in secret.
The ship - a large, metal beast, carrying strange human tools and weaponry - was torn asunder by one of your kind. A Cecaelian, well into his first century, seemingly powerful enough to tear through human-made metal. A Cecaelian of legend, one who could tangle with great whites and orcas, even sperm whales and come out unscathed.
But one who, in his destructive nature, also lashed out at the consortium, once, leaving death and injury in his wake. He's since been shunned, with scouts from that era reporting he made his lair in the ship he'd once sunk.
But that'd been over sixty years ago, a decade before you had ever even hatched. No one knew nowadays if that Cecaelian - no one dared named him kin anymore - was still there, if he had moved on, or was even still alive.
Sam refused to tell you what that male was like, despite the fact that he likely was there to witness these events himself.
You've dubbed the male 'Great-Grandpappy Kraken'. Sam glares at you whenever you use that nickname.
Despite your curiousity, your destination is perhaps not as taboo, yet a secret one, nonetheless. Sam generously keeps your secret, if only because he himself can never join you. He has his duties as leader of the consortium, and he, of all Cecaelians, could not be seen coming here.
You take your time diving for oysters. You're in no rush. You pick out the most promising-looking ones, hoping there will be at least a few pearls in some of them, too. You collect enough to fill your pouch, then head closer to the coastline, where your true destination lies.
Steve is lazily floating in his tide pool when you arrive. He's an aged, weathered old Cecaelian, wrinkled and grey. His control over his colour-changing ability has waned with age, leaving his tentacles a dull, pearlescent white permanently.
His appearance is far too aged for one his age. He's not even past his third century. Yet he looks much like those living past their seventh, those who know in their souls that they'll be joined with the ocean soon.
Steve had once been your consortium's leader. Had held that position since Sam himself had been a pup. But Steve was drawn by another calling - a human woman, enamoured with the sea as much as she was with him. He left the consortium before the great disaster with Great-Grandpappy Kraken, shifted his tentacles into legs to walk alongside his landbound mate.
He lived as a human, and in turn, also aged as a human. Steve only heeded the call of the sea once his human mate had passed, and though the rate of his aging has slowed again, he still looks aged and worn.
Steve now lives in a grotto by the beach. His human descendants live close by, and come to see their very own 'great-grandpappy kraken' from time to time. His human children, now aged themselves, had their own offspring and those bred their own as well. Of all of them, none of them managed to inheirit Steve's Cecaelian biology.
You'd consider it lucky if none of the coming generations inheirit it, either. No one knows how long Steve truly has left to live, and no human should be left navigating the oceans, their culture alone. It'd likely be a death sentence, both carried out by humans and Cecaelians alike.
You're not supposed to be visiting Steve. Steve is an outcast, shunned by the consortium for abandoning them. But you've always had a soft spot for him. As a pup, you'd once swam too close to shore and gotten yourself stranded. You'd been far too uncoordinated to safely navigate back to water, but luckily, Steve, in human form, had carried you back into the waves.
You'd recognized him immediately when he returned to the consortium decades later in his aged state, and watched the pain flash across Sam's skin as he banished his old leader - and likely, his longtime friend.
You'd snuk out to try and find Steve later, wanting to thank him for having once saved you, and so had discovered that Steve had made this beachside grotto his home.
You're friendly, familial, even. You Cecaelians don't keep direct track of bloodlines, only sniffing out through pheromones exuded during mating season whether or not a potential mate's genes would match well with your own, and are raised communally, before you stay in the consortium or branch out on your own. You don't actually have a direct grandfather - but Steve feels a little like one.
Steve slowly rights himself as you swim in through the seaside entrance, and pulls himself out of the tide pool to give you space. Despite his age, Steve is still an unusually large Cecaelian, his tentacles almost unfathomably long. You float in the pool, and reach out to touch the tips of your tentacles to his in greeting.
"Good to see you, pup," Steve wrasps.
"Good to see you, you old mollusk," you greet back.
Steve regards you with a smile. Much like he has become a grandfather to you, you've become his grandchild. He never sired pups during his time leading the consortium, never having found a mate that truly matched with him.
You eagerly pull up your pouch. "I brought oysters."
The corners of Steve's eyes crinkle. "I'd hoped you would. Samantha brought me lemons last time she came."
Samantha is Steve's human child. You often feel a twinge of sadness hit you when he speaks of her. She is old herself now - you've caught a peek of her when she came for a surprise visit. You'd submerged yourself deep into the pool, warped skin and bone to become one with the rocks, and she hadn't noticed you.
You hadn't had the heart to tell Sam Steve loved him enough to name his child after him. It had always felt like a cruelty. Not when Sam couldn't permit himself to come meet her himself.
Samantha still visits her father when she can. The trip down to the beach get more and more difficult for her, so the visits have lessened in recent times. But she always comes bearing gifts, and Steve always painfully shifts back to his human form so he and his daughter can scour the beach for oysters together.
Steve reaches for something. He retrieves two yellow fruit - lemons, as you have learned. Humans pair them with oysters, a combination you enjoy. You shuck the oysters, and Steve slices the lemon. You cheer when you find four pearls amongst the lot, and hand them to Steve. Samantha, as well as her own daughter, are human jewellery makers. Humans don't trade like you do, but Steve has explained that pearls hold great value to them. You like knowing you're helping Steve and his offspring out, if only a little.
The two of you snack on your oysters and chat. Steve asks how the consortium is doing. You tell him of Walker's latest stunts, of Joaquin's scolding, and how this season's pups are coming along. Steve, in turn, tells you how his grandchildren's pups are growing, how they are faring at their human school.
The human world does sound intriguing when seen through Steve's eyes. Despite your curiosity, you've no desire to walk on two legs yourself. You dislike the way wind bites at your skin, and the ocean is so vast and endless, you wish to explore as much as you can of it before even considering stepping foot on dry land. So for now, you content yourself with Steve's stories.
The sun is slowly setting by the time you finish all your oysters. Steve gives you a knowing look.
"You should head home before it gets dark," he says. "Before you get into any trouble."
You can't disagree. You can navigate well enough at night, but you'd rather not run into anything testy in the dark. Besides, you still want to stretch out your tentacles some more, see if you can't find any pretty things to add to your collection, or just swim alongside some interesting fish.
"Trouble somehow always finds me first," you argue, and Steve smiles.
"That's what I'm worried about, pup."
"Anything I should bring next time?" You ask. Steve is still strong enough to hunt for himself, but you don't want him to overexert himself.
Steve shakes his head. "Anything you bring is always welcome, you know that, right?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'll see if I can sneak anything off of Walker next time he comes back from a hunt. I can flash my arms at him all pretty, he won't say 'no'," you assure.
Steve splashes you with a bit of water. "Don't tease him too much, pup. He's already a dolphin without a pod, I think he's suffered enough."
You grin. "I think he could always suffer a bit more. Besides, he has Bob."
You bid Steve goodbye, before diving out through the underwater tunnel. You swim out into deeper waters, out into more distant reefs. You eventually find a group of blacktip-reef sharks, lazily swimming circles, scouting for fish. These aren't much of a danger to you, in fact, you much prefer them to some of their more sentient relatives. You trill to make your presence known, and they easily let you settle in the sand beneath them, your tentacles spread out wide around you.
Steve ones told you humans feared sharks. You'd agree on some species - you wouldn't be able to fend off a great white unscathed - but these blacktips tend to be quite docile around your kind. You've even noted that some of them enjoy being scratched gently with your hands.
You recognize one such shark. She lowers herself closer to the sand, swimming ever closer to you. You scratch her quite often, especially when you need to be alone and drift off into your thoughts. You reach out to scratch at her snout, her fins, and she visibly relaxes. A sweet girl, eventhough you're sure no human would believe you.
You're so lost in your reverie, in feeling her rough skin and the small, electromagnetic waves that surround her, that for a moment, you're blindsided by the presence of a newcomer.
"So you do play nice with sharks after all, little squid."
Your tentacles contract, coiling tightly around you in shock.
You look up to meet the sharp grin of Rumlow, circling around you with a hungry look in his eyes. A local bull shark hybrid, and an absolute menace. Where Walker may be an annoyance in his advances, Rumlow is known to be downright cruel in his persistance. What little bull shark females you've met have told you that even they don't enjoy mating with him when the season comes.
Unfortunately, Rumlow is also rather enamored with the entrancing beauty of your kind's skin, just as Walker is. But Walker would at the very least not bite himself into your neck and shoulder, just so he could mount you.
"Still not a squid, silly shark," you snap at him.
Last time you swam into Rumlow was just beyond the outskirts of your consortium's cave system. Far away enough for him to get you alone, but close enough that you could shoot him with ink and swim back home, where others would come to aid you.
But here? In the open water?
You're left to fend for yourself. Your tentacles billow out again, now dappled with flashing, blue rings. A warning. If he dares come too close to try for a bite, you'll bite him back - in a way certainly not pleasurable to even a bull shark.
Rumlow laughs at your display. "Oh, little squid, no need to be so touchy. Won't you at least let me stay close? You could give me scratches like you did that blacktip."
You tense. There's very little you can do here. You'd have to let him come close for a bite - somewhere you absolutely don't want him to be. But ink won't deter him for long, either - you can't outswim him fast enough from here, and you're not sure if he'll be able to find you even if you camouflage.
Rumlow grins. You know he can smell your fear in the water, and absolutely relishes in it.
-----------
Bucky is on his way home from a successful hunt.
He's dragging a massive tuna carcass behind him, one that'll keep him fed for days, at least. Keeping it in his den will also ensure larger predators won't be able to steal it from him. That'll leave him plenty of time to unfurl, and laze away for once.
The only competitors he has to worry about here are non-hybrids. Most hybrids, and especially Cecaelians, give the shipwreck a berth wide enough that he can swim to his heart's content without bumping into anyone. It is undoubtedly his territory, and his territory alone.
He was hunting just outside of it. Tuna call for even more open waters, and he was craving some of their juicy flesh for once.
Bucky freezes in his tracks. He can smell distress in the water, feaful pheromones wafting through the deep. It smells like a Cecaelian.
Bucky huffs. He has no reason to go check in on them. They turned their backs on him, and so he vowed to turn his back on them.
But then he makes out something else. The satisfied, aroused scent of a shark. One who's scent he finds so repulsive, he'd recognize it anywhere.
The fearful scent smells like that of a younger female. If that shark is who he thinks it is, she stands no proper chance so far from the consortium, if she even is part of it.
Bucky snarls.
Damn it all. He's not about to let a terrified little Cecaelian be ripped to shreds by that swimming bag of barnacles.
----------
Rumlow's close now, your flashing tentacles leaving him entirely undeterred.
"Sorry," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "I only scratch sharks with manners."
His grin only widens. "Oh, I can be quite well-behaved, I promise."
You sincerely doubt that. You're already thinking about how you could best get a grip on him - you're strong, but Rumlow is likely stronger. You're not sure if you could take him off-guard, if you could even flip him over to stun him fast enough.
You probably can't, and Rumlow knows it. He leans in, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim sunlight filtering in through the surface.
Until it suddenly becomes very, very dark.
"That does not quite look like a female willing to mate, guppy," a voice snarls, deep and threatening.
Rumlow looks up and bares his teeth. The second his attention is off of you, you dart away, slipping into the crevaces between the corals. Your skin and flesh mould around them, bumps raising beneath your skin and fusing you seamlessly into the reef.
"And I thought they'd cast you out to the very deep, squid," Rumlow spits.
You barely manage to look up just a bit, frozen at fear at the idea of a potential extra threat. What you see knocks the breath out of you.
It's another Cecaelian, but not one you've met before.
And he's absolutely massive.
You always thought Steve was the largest Cecaelian you'd ever get to meet. But this male manages to dwarf even him. His tendrils billow around him like stormclouds, blocking out the light around him. You notice he's not even completely spread out, with one of his collossal tendrils tightly wrapped around a tuna, that looks comically tiny in his limb.
"This isn't your territory, squid," Rumlow spits. "And she's a way from hers. Move along, ancient one. Let me have some fun with her."
"I think I might decide to expand," the stranger responds. "Keep the bottom-feeders out."
Rumlow bares his teeth again. You see his pupils expand, and flinch when he charges through the water right at the newcomer. The newcomer easily stops him in his tracks, his tentacles snatching Rumlow up in his grasp. They twist Rumlow onto his side, not even on his back to stun him. Like they're toying with him.
You hear a sickening crunch. The newcomer's tentacles wrap tightly around Rumlow's upper body, slowly crushing him.
"You're gonna get out of here," the stranger growls at him. "And you'll leave the females here alone. Perhaps you could try mating with a whalefall instead - they would suit you quite well."
Another crack. Rumlow tries to thrash in the stranger's hold, but his tentacles leave no leverage. You can start to smell fear in the water around you, strange, oily, and shark-like.
You notice how still the stranger is holding him and realize what's happening. How his tentacles are wrapped across Rumlow's gills. He's not just crushing him - he's suffocating him.
In a last-ditch effort, Rumlow bites and scratches at the newcomer's tentacles. He doesn't even flinch, only tightens his hold one more time with a final, sickening crack.
Then he lets go. Rumlow greedily filters water through his gills, rough and breathless, then speeds off into the blue beyond.
He's gone. You're safe.
But are you really?
The stranger shifts to look directly into your eyes. You supress a squeak, and retreat deeper into the crevices between the corals, pleading with the spirits to ensure he doesn't see you.
------------
Bucky sees your trembling form tucked into the reef easily. Predators might not, but he knows his own kind, and he can see the contours of your form against the corals.
He should move on, he thinks. Let you recover on your own. It's bad enough Rumlow spooked you, he doesn't need to add to your terror. Especially since it's likely that he's the largest of your kind you've ever met.
But he still smells your fear, unmistakable in the water. Not only could Rumlow come back, but the pheromones you exude, and the tiny noises you make ensure everything inside of him feels the instinctive need to comfort you.
He shouldn't. He should move on.
But he doesn't.
Bucky carefully tucks his tentacles together, making his hulking form as small as possible. He cautiously sinks down to where you lie.
You're shaking, now. Like you're expecting an attack any moment now, or perhaps a greedy Cecaelian who now wishes to take Rumlow intended spoils for himself.
But Bucky feels no desire to harm you. You're clearly from his, no, Sam's consortium. He can smell the familiar scents of your home. You're young, undoubtedly attractive, with your skilled shapeshifting and pretty shell jewellery, and maybe only have one or two mating seasons to your name.
He should make sure you're alright.
Bucky carefully tucks his face into the crook of your neck. You choke back a sob. He gently rubs his stubbled cheek against yours and lets out a soft trill, his tentacles cradling around you, protective, but not touching.
You slowly stop shaking. The trembling stops further once you realize it's not a mating trill, but simply one meant to soothe.
Bucky keeps trilling, keeps rubbing his cheek against yours until the trembling stops entirely. The sobs you repressed have dissolved as well, your breathing calm and even now. He lets out a pleased trill and withdraws.
You look up at him with wide, glossy eyes.
"Are you...alright?" He asks carefully.
You're still speechless, but you nod.
"Did he hurt you?" Bucky then asks.
You shake your head. Talking seems to still be too much right now.
Curse it all, it's been so long since he even spoke to one of his kind. He's entirely out of his depth here. A conversation would be difficult enough, but comfort?
He doesn't have the slightest idea how to do that.
That is, until he remembers the tuna still solidly stuck in his grasp.
Bucky reaches for it, and uses his claws to tear out a bit of its flesh. He purposefully goes for the softest, fattiest part. Then he hands it to you, offering it on his open palm.
"Here," he says, trying to sound encouraging. "Take it."
-----------
You eye the stranger curiously.
What a strange one he is! Fending off Rumlow like he's a terror of the seas, to now awkwardly offering you a piece of his tuna. And the best part of it, no less!
You fail to repress a soft little laugh.
"Thank you," you say, reaching to take the bit of tuna. "For this. For everything."
He hums at you in acknowledgement. He seems so stiff and rigid, you can't help yourself.
"Excuse me for saying so, but you don't...socialise much, do you?"
You feel comfortable enough to tease him now. You figure if he wanted you dead, he'd have already killed you instead of gifting you some tuna.
His tentacles flush a soft red and you giggle wetly. This collossal male is flustered, now.
"It's...been a long time," he says, in his raspy voice.
"I can tell," you say. "But it wasn't long enough for you to not be able to tell I was terrified, so - thank you."
He nods. You begin picking at the piece of tuna he gave you. It's still very fresh. He must've just come back from a hunt.
He watches you as you eat. Your tendrils end up having a mind of their own, and some of them unfurl to meet the tips of his. A simple greeting.
He freezes at the contact. It's clear to you that it truly must have been years since he's spoken to another Cecaelian, if this mere greeting is enough for his face to freeze in astonishment. But his own tentacles react on pure instinct, wrapping their much larger tips around yours.
He's older. Not old enough to be an elder, because his face is still somewhat young. Handsome, even. Likely a good, fertile male that has sired many young in his life. You estimate that he's somewhere between his second and third century. But as your suction cups mesh with his, you taste something...familiar.
He tastes like home. Like someone from the consortium.
How strange. Maybe he's someone who decided to live a solitary life.
You move to withdraw your tentacles, but realize his won't let you go. You don't even think he's doing it on purpose, because he still looks just as frozen at the contact as before. But it seems like his limbs have missed the opportunity to tangle with...anyone, really. And so, you let him hold you as you finish your tuna.
Eventually, he settles. His tentacles withdraw, having tasted and gotten to know you as you have him.
"So...does Rumlow give you trouble often?" He asks.
"As often as he gives any female trouble," you answer honestly. "I was unfortunate enough to be alone this time."
You smile up at him. "But I think you made sure he won't come back for a good long while...um...?"
You tilt your head at him, silently asking for his name. He hesitates.
"Bucky," he says, and makes a face as if he already regrets giving you his name.
"Bucky," you repeat, and give him your own name in return.
You've never heard that name before. Neither Sam nor Steve had ever mentioned a Bucky belonging to your consortium. Then why does he taste so faintly like home?
"Alright, Bucky," you start, slowly unfurling from the corals. "I should head back home. I don't want to keep you any longer, you must want to bring your spoils back to your den."
Bucky backs off so you can swim freely. He looks hesistant again. Worried. Almost torn.
Whatever war he's fighting in his mind seems to settle when he next speaks.
"I can accompany you to the edge of your territory," he offers, and once more he looks like he regrets ever opening his mouth. "Just to make sure you don't run into trouble."
You suppress a giggle. He sounds a little like Steve.
"Oh, trouble always tends to find me," you tell him.
"Then I should definitely accompany you," Bucky decides. "Just...in case Rumlow comes back for you."
He looks so pinched, so unused to offering a stranger his kindness, that you can't help but cave. It's a little endearing, you think, how this powerful male seems to crumble at your little interaction, so the least you can do is reward him for his bit of courage.
So the two of you swim off in the direction of your consortium.
On the way, you have the opportunity to look at him properly.
His torso is maybe a bit larger than the average male's, but it's his tentacles that fascinate you. The stretch on and on and on behind him, like an endless, inky-black trail, so long, you're sure his tentacles must be four times the length of your own, full-grown ones.
You've never seen a Cecaelian like him.
Bucky fascinates you. His handsome face, his absurdly massive size speak of a confident, self-assured male. Yet his interaction with you was bumpy at best, and terribly awkward at worst. You'd expected a male like him to be cocky, to ask you if you didn't want to reward him for his services. Instead, Bucky had decided to give you a piece of his tuna.
You swim around him, above him, below him, circling him so you can take all of him in. His tentacles flush a deep red. He's excited, or rather - intrigued.
His body is covered in scars. Large, small, doesn't matter, they are all dappled across his skin, a testament to many fierce battles fought and won. There are a couple spotted across his back, even hidden in his hair, that you can't identify.
His left arm is the most pecular to you. It's not the colour of his skin, but always matches the shade of his tentacles.
Bucky raises a brow at you. "Curious little pup, aren't you?" He quips.
Now it's your turn to flush, your tentacles turning red themselves, with nervous, flashing stripes of white.
"Can you blame me?" You justify. "I've never seen a Cecaelian who looks like you."
His lips quirk into something that could almost be a smile. "I've never met someone who looks like me, either," he says.
Bucky lets you circle around him the entire way home. Your flush deepens further the more you look at him. He's handsome, and powerful, and different, and new. You can barely help yourself.
Bucky most definitely notices your roaming eyes on him, because his tentacles flash with little pulses of white appreciatively.
But that abruptly changes the moment you reach the border of the consortium's territory. Bucky turns back to inky-black, and straightens himself.
"Here we are," he says. "You should make it the rest of the way without any issues."
"Yes. Thanks again, Bucky," you reply.
Some part of you doesn't want him to leave. You want to know more about this strange male. But he seems like he's itching to leave.
Despite his restlessness, his tentacles reach out to touch yours. A goodbye. His touch is gentle against yours.
"It would be best if you didn't mention that you saw me to anyone," Bucky then says.
You tilt your head at him in confusion. But Bucky insists.
"Don't mention me, don't mention my name. You never saw me," he says seriously. "If anyone asks, you ran into Rumlow alone, and managed to outwit him. Alright?"
You give a tentative nod. It's not enough for him.
"Promise me," he says. "Promise me you won't say a word. For both your and my sake."
"I promise," you say, confused, but that seems to pacify him.
"Good." Bucky makes the conscious effort to unfurl his tendrils from yours. "Get home safe, sweetling."
And with that, he's off, inky-black tendrils disappearing into the distance, the tuna carcass still in tow.
It's only when you notice which direction he swam in that it dawns on you.
Bucky swam off towards the shipwreck. The shipwreck that was caused by an exceptionally powerful male. The same one where a Cecaelian supposedly lives, one who's outcast and shunned by the consortium.
You dash home in a panic. You barely manage to give Sam some weak excuse when he asks why you smell like you've had tuna.
You slip into the little cave you call your home, tear your pouch off of you and curl into the furthest, most hidden corner.
It can't be.
Great-Grandpappy Kraken is real.
Great-Grandpappy Kraken is real, he has a name and his name is Bucky.
Bucky is Great-Grandpappy Kraken, and is not at all the ancient, wizened old cephalopod you pictured him as.
He's definitely the feared and shunned Cecaelian from your consortium - why else would he not want anyone to know that you met him? And he definitely looks powerful enough to rip multiple ship parts off of that giant metal beast. Strong enough to tear a hole in it. His touch might have been gentle against yours, but even then you could tell he was capable of great feats of strength.
But he's not at all the monster your fellow Cecaelians had warned you off.
Yes, he was objectively terrifying. But he had been kind, and so oddly endearing, and had protected you from that stupid bull shark-hybrid.
Oh, trenches, and you had most definitely flirted with him. Had let him see and know you appreciated his strength, his appearance. Had enjoyed feeling his eyes roam over you.
You curl further into a ball of nervous limbs.
If Sam ever finds out about this, you're so, so dead.
Summary: Reader is Tony Stark's little sister who has just lost everything and is living with Tony. Bucky takes an interest in reader, and Tony is not happy. Bucky and reader go out to the woods to have some fun.
Warnings: public play, fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), praise kink, light choking, age gap! relationship.
Word Count: 1.5k
A/N: I have wanted to write for this man forever, I finally got around to it lmao.
~
"You're to stay away from him, is that understood?" Your brother, Tony, was pissed. He caught you flirting with Bucky in the kitchen earlier, and he had been lecturing you ever since. After he sent Bucky away of course.
He had always been overprotective, but since you had moved in with him and everyone else when you lost your job, apartment, fiancé, and pretty much everything in your life... he had been a nightmare.
"Tony, I'm sick of being told what to do. I will talk to whoever I want to, whether you like it or not," you snapped back, knowing you were purposely picking a fight.
"(Y/n), I swear. Why do you have to be so difficult all the time? I let you stay here for free, the least you could do is follow my rules."
"As opposed to what? Me living on the street? Would you really do that to me, brother?" You crossed your arms and put your weight in your hip, trying to make a point.
He gave an exasperated sigh before tossing his hands in the air. "You're impossible. All I'm asking is for you to stay away from a man nearly twice your age."
"Sorry you were the favourite child and I have daddy issues now," you retorted, storming out of the room and heading for the door. The place was so big it took you a few minutes to get there, but when you did, you put your boots on and walked right out.
Just in time to see Bucky on his bike, starting the engine.
"Wait!" You called, sprinting over to him.
He looked over at you, no helmet in sight. Figures. These boys did like to like dangerously, having superpowers and all.
"Take me with you," you asked, nearly out of breath from running over. You were so out of shape.
Bucky shook his head, "I don't think your brother will like that much."
"Fuck my brother. I just lost everything, take me somewhere I can forget who I am." You gave him the saddest eyes you could muster before adding, "please?"
He bit his lip for a moment before shaking his head at you. "Get on. And hold on tight, princess."
"I'm anything but a princess," you said, hurrying to swing your leg over the back. You wrapped your arms around his waist and grasped your hands together, trying to keep your balance.
"We'll see about that." His tone was dark, and his words dripped with an unspoken promise. He revved the bike and took off just as you realized how wet those simple words had made you.
You turned your focus back to holding on, glad he couldn't see your face as you glanced at your surroundings. He was driving way too fast, but he handled it like it was nothing. He swerved in and out of traffic, making your heart race as the adrenaline pumped through you.
This was the best thing ever.
How had you never been on a bike before? The wind against you, your hair blowing everywhere, the smell of freedom. You could sit here forever, with him driving. You'd never felt so alive.
You don't know how long you rode for, but it felt like only minutes to you as you dodged in and out of traffic, until you hit a dirt road where he finally slowed down.
He entered the woods then, driving another few minutes until the trees got so thick you couldn't get any further. He parked and cut the engine, climbing off and turning back to you.
"How bad do you want to forget, princess?" Bucky asked, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. His voice was soft as he spoke, his hand reaching out to grip your chin and make you look up at him. "How bad do you want to scream to god out here where nobody can hear you?"
You gulped as the heat pooled in your belly, his intense eye contact only making it worse. You took a few seconds to muster up the courage to answer.
"Fuck me, please," you whispered, breaking away from his gaze as the embarrassment showed on your face.
He gave you a wicked smile. "You're going to regret asking that, princess." He leaned forward and captured your lips in his, kissing you hard as he lifted you off the seat and set you down on your feet. He was so much taller than you, you had to stand on your toes just to reach him. "I'm going to ruin you."
You literally almost moaned when he said that, but you managed to hold it in. He didn't need to know that no man had ever made you cum before, only you by yourself with your toys.
He reached down roughly and pulled up your tank top, revealing your bare chest to him. Bucky kissed down your neck, leaving sloppy marks as he did, before he finally made it down to your nipple. He held your breast in his metal hand, softly rubbing it before finally sucking your hardened bud, his tongue dancing around as you let out a gasp. When he pulled away and gently pinched it with the cool metal of his fingers, you nearly fell down. The temperature change from his warm mouth was incredible, and you couldn't think about-
You began to protest when he stopped, but he cut you off with a kiss, filling your mouth with his tongue as he explored.
He pulled away, a string of saliva following him. "Are you sure you can handle this?" Bucky taunted, trailing his arm along your neck before gently choking you, using his metal arm to slip down your pants.
You moaned when he made contact with your clit, the cool sensation better than you could imagine. It was slick against you, your own wetness coating his fingers as he strummed at you. He stopped to pull your pants down to your ankles, and then flipped you over to be bent over the seat of his bike.
"I'm not going to fuck you," he said, his voice condescending as he placed his fingers inside you, the angle from behind making you cry out. "I'm just going to give you the best orgasm of your life."
He relentlessly pounded into you with his arm, and you were glad he couldn't see your face as you wiggled your ass into him to get more friction. Your moans came out as cries of pleasure, and you were sure if there was anyone nearby they'd come running thinking you were dying.
You felt yourself build up far too quick, the heat pooling to your stomach as you wildly reached for anything to hold on to. You came hard, your entire body shuddering with need as he finger-fucked you through it. You felt tears going down your face as you babbled incoherently.
He grabbed the back of your neck and lifted you off the bike, dropping you down to your knees on the ground.
"Let's see if you look as pretty making me cum." Bucky's tone seemed dark, but before you could process what was happening, he was shoving his cock in your mouth, and you opened as wide as you could to see how much you could take.
It wasn't very much. You started gagging only halfway down, and you had to pull back a little. You wrapped your right hand around the base, rubbing him up and down in rhythm with your mouth.
"Fuck, princess, just like that."
You stopped sucking briefly to lick his tip, looking up at him to make eye contact as you circled his head with your tongue, your hand still jerking him off. You quickly dove back as deep as you could, making yourself gag again.
"Keep going, you're being such a good girl."
You used your free hand to gently cup his balls, slow at first but after he was used to it, you began to play with them back and forth.
"Don't stop princess, I want to see my cum drip down your lips."
You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, on your knees worshipping the man you masturbated to every night. But when he finally did shove your head all the way down his cock, he released a thick stream of cum into your mouth, his dick so deep you had no choice but to swallow.
You coughed as he pulled it out slowly, making sure you cleaned up every drop of his cum as he did.
"You're such a good girl," he purred as he helped you to your feet. "I suppose we'll have to see if you can take it in your pussy next time."
You felt yourself clench around nothing as you realized this wasn't going to be a one-off occasion.
A/n: this was requested! I found this template floating around tumblr! Enjoy! I’ll keep the template like how I found it incase anyone wants to use it! Hopefully I did this correctly because it was the first one I’ve done.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Bucky is so caring and gentle. He makes you rest while he goes to grab a warm towel to clean you up. Sometimes after an intense fucking, he’ll carry you to the shower/bath and wash you.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Tbh, I don’t know what Bucky’s favorite body part of his would be. I feel like he might not be a huge fan of parts of his body.
But yours? Bucky is definitely an ass man, something that he can get a good squeeze of.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Bucky loves to cum all over you, paint your skin in it to mark you as his.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He likes to be the sub a lot of the time, have his partner take control.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
I think he’s not that experienced, given his history and what not. You help him a lot in exploring his sex preferences.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
He loves being on top so he can look down at you(more so look down at your cunt to see his cock sliding in and out of you)
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
He’s serious in the moment but afterwards he likes being a tad goofy.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
I feel like Bucky would still have some hair down there but keeps it groomed for you.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
He’s definitely a romantic. Bucky loves to set up candles and music, the whole set up.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Bucky loves to make you lay next to him and forces you to watch him jack off. Sometimes he’ll cum on your chest or you watch with wide eyes as he cums all over his hand and stomach.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Edging. Bucky loves the feeling of being so close to spilling inside of you but he pulls out at the last second, his cock throbbing. It makes it that much better when he finally does decide to let himself go.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Definitely the bed. You two have a king size bed and Bucky likes to have enough space.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
He loves it when you wear one of his shirts and a pair of socks. With his favorite color panties sticking out. Instant hard on.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
He will not choke you. That’s one thing that’s a hard no. He doesn’t like the idea of taking your breath away with his hands.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He definitely prefers giving.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Don’t get me wrong, he loves it hard and fast. But most times, Bucky wants is slow and sensual. Full of passion.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
To be honest, I think he doesn’t like quickies. Cause he wants to take his time with you and make sure that you’re getting your two orgasms before he gets his one.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
I think Bucky does take some risks but very carefully. He’s all for experimenting but there are some limits.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
He’s a super soldier. He’s got great stamina.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
He was a bit iffy about toys at first but once you showed him all of the fun ways that toys can enhance your sex life, Bucky’s all for them.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Bucky is a huge tease and no one can change my mind.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Bucky is a quiet one but he’ll whimper and whine and beg to make you know what he wants.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Bucky loves jacking off to videos of you two together. He has loads of pictures and videos of his cock fucking your cunt and mouth. He loves watching those on nights he feels lonely.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Let’s just say, the super soldier serum definitely enhanced every part of him.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
I think pretty high but only with you. You brought out a side of him that he’s comfortable with.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
After he takes care of you and makes sure you’re cleaned up, Bucky passes out as soon as his head hits the pillow.
summary: in which bucky realizes just how in love he is with you.
w/c: 1k
a/n: hey guys!! i know you must get tired of me saying the same thing lol but i decided to write again. i have been sooo busy these past few months. trying to navigate adult life with graduation and my new job, plus i had a surgery that knocked me off my feet but i have been ITCHING to write. so, even though this is small, i hope you all enjoy!!!
bucky never knew he could love until he met you. all of those sleepless nights, begging, praying to any gods out there just to make them stop. he just wanted peace, no more war, no hydra, no night terrors, and no more fighting.
he wasn’t aware that love is what he so desperately needed. someone to soothe those nightmares, to hold him close and hush him during the worst moments of his life.
but, bucky was convinced he was not capable of being loved. because, who in their right mind would love someone as tortured and damaged as him?
after all, that’s what he was. damaged goods.
but you? god, you were the purest things he had ever seen. you were like an angel that came before him, cascading in white light and warmth every time your gaze lingers on the super soldier.
even now, watching you from the doorway of your shared balcony, bucky finds himself unable to take his eyes off your frame. sometimes, he felt pathetic for the life he harbored for you. trapped in the memory of your first encounter.
relishing in the memories that he looked back on so fondly.
you, the angel, being the only person who could see through bucky. through the “i’m fine” and the “don’t worries” he’d spill, you never put up with his lies.
“you can’t fool me, barnes” you’d say while wrapping your arms around his midsection. bucky sighed as he rubbed his temples, “i know..” there was absolutely no fooling you.
“you can tell me anything, buck..” you pressed a kiss on his shoulder, just above where the metal began.
“does it hurt?”
bucky shakes his head, “no, not right now.”
he’d find himself leaning against the glass door, his eyes trained on your figure as you lean against the metal railing. the skyline of brooklyn in the distance, the moonlight shining on your skin, which only convinced him further into believing you were some sort of angel that was meant for him.
you could do no wrong in his eyes, you could commit a thousand crimes and bucky would still look at you like you hung the moon and stars for him. still, in the end, he felt satisfied knowing that you were his. his to shower with affection, to whisper sweet words in the middle of the night as your bodies lie tangled beneath the sheets of the dark bedroom. not even death could pry you from him.
in the beginning, he tried his hardest not to succumb to his feelings for you. he didn’t want to get attached because attachments always lead to heartbreak, and bucky didn’t know if he could handle another heartbreak.
but you were incredibly persistent, and ultimately it worked.
“i love you..” the words would spill from his lips like honey; the words came so naturally for him, easy as breathing.
the worst left a sweet taste in his mouth.
you turn on your heels just as those words left his lips.
“what?” you laugh, not at him though, but because it was random and very rarely did he. not that he doesn’t love you, but because he doesn’t want the words to lose their meaning.
“i love you,” he repeats as he walks towards you. his hand finds home on your lower back, his fingertips memorizing the texture of your skin that peeked from your sleep shirt.
you smile, hands coming to rest on both of his forearms, and for just a moment, bucky swore he could feel the warmth of your touch against his bionic arm. if he closed his eyes, he could picture it.
“i love you too, james.” you called him every nickname in the book, but sometimes it felt better calling him by his real name. especially in an intimate moment like this.
your brows furrow, his fingers digging into your skin like he’s afraid you’ll slip from his grip. like you’re a figment of his imagination. “what’s wrong..?” you inquire, hands moving from his arms to the base of his neck. fingers entangling with his hair.
bucky shakes his head, “nothing, i just..i just love you s’all”.
you smile, looking into his baby blues that held so much affection when looking at you. like you were the only thing in the universe.
he loved spending his time with you, being in your presence, wrapping his arms around you, and finding peace. no nightmares, no flashbacks, no regrets, just you. just your soothing voice, the stillness of your breathing as you lie next to him. he was so in love with you.
“you are so..beautiful..” bucky found it hard to find a word to describe you. you weren’t just beautiful, you were so much more. you carried this gentleness about you that made him feel at home. home. you were his home.
a smile spreads on your face, a quiet giggle stuck in your throat as you watch his eyes rake over your figure. “bucky..”
“m’serious,” he mumbles. he pulls you closer against his frame, his lips pressing fleeting kisses just below your earlobe.
“you sure you’re okay?” you ask again, your hands still resting at the base of his neck.
“mhm,” he’s still pressing kisses to your flesh, relishing in your signature scent. a gentle reminder that you’re real.
“buck,” your words cut him off, hands finding either side of his face. “cmon..what’s goin on?”
“i don’t say it enough.” he was reluctant to pull away, but he was looking in your eyes again. his hands moved from your lower back to your waist, now. thumbs massaging circles absentmindedly.
you press your lips into a thin smile, tilting your head to the side while your fingers push some hair from his eyes. “oh..bucky..”
“no,” he shakes his head.
“you are my god given solace, y/n. you know that?”
you’re a bit taken aback by his sudden words, your hands pausing their movements. “what?”
“i know it hasn’t been easy to love me, but you’ve been there for me” he’s rambling now, wanting to get his words out while he still has it on his mind. “you’ve shown me love, doll” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, letting it linger for a moment.
