Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> When you find yourself transported to the future, you begin to question if you were always meant to be here.
Disclaimer: Kinda open ended, platonic!Steve x reader, fluff, angst, Reader comes from the 40s, MJ scaring people, oblivious idiots, swearing, mentions of violence. Not Proof Read.
You groaned as you hit the solid ground. “Oh, I am gonna kill Howard.”
Coughing a little before rolling onto your front to try and stand, you took a look around you.
“Where the fuck-”
As you brushed some dust from your skirt, a loud blaring alarm sounded overhead. You were quick to cover your ears before trying to find an exit. What was the wager that Howard had set something on fire again?
But before you could call out, the floor beneath you fell open and you went sliding down. A scream let itself out from your lungs, only stopping just before you landed and rolled onto a pristine white floor.
“Jarvis, who is she?”
Once again, you groaned. You held your head, keeping your eyes closed. “For god’s sake, Howard. You know who I am. Don’t pull that bullshit with - ow - me.”
As you stood on your feet, you looked around you again. The whole room was white. Where the hell were you?
“Jarvis?”
You recognised the name, but not the voice that said his name.
Slowly turning around, you started to realise where you were. It wasn’t like any you were used to but you were, in fact, in a cell.
“I can’t seem to find an ID for her from this century.”
“This century?”
You looked through the glass. “Where’s Howard?”
The man looked right at you. “I ask the questions here.”
“Considering I’ve just landed who the fuck knows where, I’d say I’m the one who should be asking questions. How much did he pay you? Thirty, forty bucks?”
“Forty bucks?”
The man seemed disgusted.
“What? Keep Y/n distracted so he can run around town again? Just so you know, if I don’t kick his ass, Peggy will.”
“Stark! What the hell is going on?”
Tony watched as you lit up a little at the voice coming down the hall.
“Steve?!” You called out.
Tony had already been confused when he got an alert from Jarvis that someone had broken into the facility. Then he was confused even more when you asked for Howard. But now? Now he was more confused than ever.
“Steve!? Oh, thank god. Tell this moron to let me out. Howard’s probably ten seconds away from setting the whole building on fire. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Tony turned to his side and took a long look at Steve. He looked…pale. Shocked, to say the least. Like someone had just stuck a knife into his heart and he was watching himself bleed out.
“Y/n?”
“You know her?” Tony asked quietly.
You laughed. “What? Did Howard pay you, too? Just so you know, once I’ve kicked his ass, I’m gonna have Peggy kick yours.”
Steve turned towards Tony with a slightly heated gaze. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. She just showed up here. Who is she?”
Reading the room, you took a few steps forward. Something told you that this wasn’t just a prank. “Steve, what’s going on?”
“Y/n?”
“Yes?”
Steve felt the breath leave his lungs. “What…What year is it?”
You chuckled. This game again?
“1944.”
Steve couldn’t breathe.
“Sir, though I’m not quite sure how it’s possible. I do believe this is Agent Y/n Y/l/n. Born in 1921, she went missing the summer before Sargent Barnes fell from the train.”
That sentence made you panic a little. “Okay, Jarvis! Howard, I get it. You can call it off now!”
“Call what off?”
Steve ignored Tony for a few moments. “Y/n, I think you’re gonna wanna sit down.”
“Steve, what’s going on?”
“Tony, open the doors.”
He didn’t think twice and the glass door slid away and behind the panel, letting Steve inside.
“Steve?”
He didn’t say anything. He just hugged you. Tight. Like he’d waited years to do so. So, you hugged him back. “Steve, you’re scaring me now. What’s going on? Where’s Howard? I swear to god if this is some-”
Steve leaned back and shook his head. “No, this isn’t…it’s not a joke.”
You stepped back a little and took in the two men in front of you. Although he wasn’t Howard, he did have a funny resemblance to him. And Steve…the last time you saw him…he’d been wearing his uniform. Not a blue button down and a pair of jeans.
“You should probably come with us.”
Less than ten minutes later you were sitting in Tony’s lab. Some kind of floating projector showed different images and other things. All the while, you could feel Steve’s eyes burning a hole into the side of your head.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Being in the underground bunker. Howard’s testing some new chemical weapons. It’s meant to melt weaponry from the inside. Steve, what happened? Jarvis…s’voice…he said Bucky fell. Did we lose?”
Steve shook his head, taking your hand in his. “No. The war…we won the war. But…Hydra…they captured Bucky. We all thought…I thought he was dead. I thought you were dead.”
You couldn’t do anything else but laugh, though it wasn’t happy. “Steve, I was with you less than twenty minutes ago. And Howard-”
“Howard’s dead.”
“Tony.” Steve scolded.
“What?”
You looked back at Steve, then at Tony.
“Y/n, this is Tony. Howard’s son.”
You heard yourself gasp a little. But before you could understand what the hell was going on, the doors across the lab swung open.
“Mr Stark! I’ve finally figured it out! If I just change the chemical- oh. Hello.”
You looked over at the young boy who couldn’t be more than seventeen or eighteen.
“Y/n, this is Peter. Peter, this is-”
“Holy shit, you’re Y/n Y/l/n.”
Both Tony and Steve looked at Peter. “You know her?”
Peter nodded. “Yeah, MJ goes on about her all the time. MJ’s my girlfriend, by the way and she thinks you're, like, super cool. But- hey. Wait a minute. How can you be here?”
“I’ve been asking myself that same question.”
“Mr Stark?”
Tony sighed. “Best we can figure is that my old man went wrong and somehow…”
“Invented time travel?” Peter finished.
Tony nodded, as did you.
“Sounds like Howard.”
“Maybe you should call Scott?”
“Why Scott?”
Peter shrugged. “I was gonna suggest Hank but I didn’t think you two are still talking since the burrito fiasco in the cafe the other week.”
Steve just looked at Tony and it took a few minutes but the Stark kid threw his head back before grumbling and pulling out his phone. “Fine.”
“He’s just like his dad,” Steve heard you whisper as you watched him walk away.
“Hey,” Steve said softly, bringing your attention back to him. “How are you feeling?”
“Dizzy. Terrified. Angry. A little more dizzy.”
Steve just held your hand tighter.
“Steve, I need you to tell me everything that happened because right now I have too many questions and…I don’t even know where to begin.”
Steve nodded understandably. You’d been missing for longer than he’d been in the ice. You’d become a part of some of the ghost stories with the walls of Shield. You’d become a small block of text in the Smithsonian since nobody knew anything else.
Your name was one of the first that he searched for when he got out of the ice. If he can be left sleeping in the ice for seventy years, gods can wield magic hammers and aliens can fall from the sky, then surely you could still be alive somewhere, right?
But there had still been no trace of you.
Until today when a loud rad alarm started to sound throughout the kitchen to alert whoever was left in the compound that someone had broken in.
So, starting from the beginning, Steve told you as much as he could in the short time you had together. With Peter filling in a few gaps.
Steve told you about when you went missing. How Howard has a black eye for three weeks since Peggy had hit him hard when she realised what he’d been making and didn’t think to use any safety precautions. One thing Howard knew for certain was that you weren’t dead. How he knew that, the others couldn’t figure. But it was easier to accept than thinking Howard Stark had just murdered one of his closest friends.
Steve told you about when Bucky fell and when he went into the ice. He told you about the end of the war and him and Peggy.
Peter told you about Tony and the little snippets he knew from what he’d been told. Peter accidently let slip that Bucky had been the one to murder Howard and his wife, Maria.
Steve explained about the Winter Soldier programme and waking up in the ice. He told you about New York and The Avengers. Peter mentioned how he, too, was a Superhero. Steve explained about Natasha, Sam and Bucky. Peter mentioned bringing Bucky and Steve up to date with Star Wars and other movie franchises.
Then Steve explained, briefly, about Wakanda and what Bucky had been through.
Tears slipped from your eyes and Steve helped you wipe them away. “So…he’s…he’s alive?”
Steve nodded with a smile. “He’s alive.”
You felt yourself breathing again. Steve had only told you the key things about what happened to Bucky. You couldn’t begin to imagine the pain he went through, or the pain Steve went through realising he’d lost Peggy.
Last you knew, Peggy and Steve were crushing hard on each other. You and Bucky had a bet running for how long it would take for Steve to finally ask her on a date.
“Okay, he’s on his way. He doesn’t believe me, but I don't even believe it.” Tony announced as he walked back inside, pocketing his phone.
“What happens now? What am I meant to do?”
Steve looked at Tony who just shrugged. “You stay here with us until we can get some kind of answer, I guess.”
You tilted your head at Steve. “I’m meant to be in the 40s. What the hell am I supposed to do whilst I’m here? Better yet, what the hell am I meant to do when I can go home? What, am I just not meant to tell you anything? Or Bucky for that matter? Oh, my god! Can I even get home?”
Steve placed his hands on your shoulders and led you back to your seat. “Okay, just sit down. Just breathe.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Blueberry?” Tony suddenly shoved a silver packet into your face. “They can help calm the nervous system.”
Tony didn’t say anything else. But he did unfurl your hand and place a packet in your palm.
“Can I even get home?”
“Uhh…”
“It’s not a question of whether or not you can get home. It’s do you go home?”
Everyone, including yourself, jumped. All except for Peter.
“Jesus Christ,” you swore to yourself, holding onto your chest.
“How the hell did you get in here?” Tony turned towards the curly haired girl standing beside Peter.
“Peter texted me.”
Tony just stared at the girl. “That still doesn’t answer my question.”
Steve sighed. “She’s training with Nat and Laura, remember?”
That seemed to answer something.
“See, that’s how you give me information.”
“Oh,” Peter jumped back into the conversation. “Agent Y/l/n?”
“Please, call me Y/n.”
“This is MJ, my girlfriend.”
You smiled at her and she gave you a small smile back. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
Half an hour later, three people walked inside who were introduced to you as “Ant-Man, but not the original Ant-Man-.”, “Hope”, “She’s the Wasp.”, and “Hank Pym.”
“I believe you might be able to…help.”
Hank nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“What ‘we’ can do?”
“Why ‘we’?”
“It’s my lab, Pym.”
“And it’s my research, Stark.”
“I found her first.”
“But you called me, remember?”
The argument continued on for a few more minutes until finally you stood up.
“Hey!”
That shut them up.
“I am not some lab rat that you’re gonna be poking needles into! I understand that I’m over seventy years out of my time, but I’m not some experiment. I’m human, alright?!”
Hope nudged MJ. “I like her.”
Hank and Tony seemed to come to a silent agreement. “Okay, how about we start with the basics?”
You nodded. “Okay.”
Over the next few hours, you had your heart rate monitored, your blood pressure taken, your memory tested. You filled out multiple different medical forms. You told them everything you could about where and when you were born, what you did in the last week of your life in the 40s and was fed so many blueberries you were pretty sure your skin would turn the same colour.
“MJ?”
As the boys messed with things on the other side of the lab, you took a seat beside the girl.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” you smiled. “I was hoping I might be able to talk to you.”
MJ nodded. “What about?”
“Earlier, when you said it’s more about do I get back…Peter mentioned you might know a few things about me, after I went missing.”
MJ nodded slowly. “I…might.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone anything. Whatever you know will stay between you and me.”
MJ nodded. “Okay.”
“Just…tell me everything?”
And she did.
About the rumours, about the ghost stories. That’s all they were, but there was always a hint of truth in stories. Some people still looked for you, others believed you hadn’t ever existed at all. There was a lot of research done after your disappearance. What had caused it, where you could have gone.
“Does this research still exist?”
“You’d have to ask Mr Stark about that one. Mostly it was his dad’s stuff. I only know because Agent Romanoff was helping me find references for a college paper.”
You smiled. “Thank you, MJ.”
That was when Jarvis, who wasn’t Javis, spoke. “Uh, Captain Rogers, sir. Sergeant Barnes and Captain Wilson have returned.”
“Thank you, Jarvis.”
You looked over at Steve.
“I’ll go and get him.”
You just nodded and watched as Steve jogged down the hall, out of the doors and towards the stairs.
“Did you date?”
You turned back to MJ. “What?”
“You and Barnes? There were always rumours. And I’ve seen the footage.”
“Footage?”
“They still show clips in the Smithsonian. You know, like Steve keeping a picture of Peggy in his compass. I’ve seen some of you and Barnes.”
You could only nod, letting her know you’d heard what she said.
Truth be told, you and Bucky hadn’t been dating. You were just friends. He’d save you a dance at every Hall. He was the one, besides Peggy, who you’d been closest to. On the days where all his confidence and charm would leave his body – mostly when he was geeking out at the technology fairs – you’d stick by his side and help him out.
Some women he’d try and talk to, so you’d give him a push. But others…he was nice to them, but he just wanted some time alone. The war was a lot and with his own call-up looming, he just wanted some time. So, making sure he didn’t constantly bump into people, you’d both pretend you were on a date. It kept some girls away, and you and him had a great time.
And despite your growing crush over the last few months…no, you weren’t dating.
Your head kicked back into gear. “No. No, we weren’t dating. Just friends.”
MJ just gave you a look. You knew that look. Because it was the same look Peggy had given you three days ago when she cornered you in the girls bathroom after you excused yourself when one of the blonde agents waltzed her way over to talk to Bucky.
Before your conversation could continue further, however, there were multiple sets of boots pounding on the floor. The noise was growing closer and closer.
You stood up from your chair, standing directly in view of the glass doorway, your skirt swishing a little around your knees.
And through the glass, you saw Bucky come to a halt.
He just stared at you.
He was in dark blue tactical gear, a man stood behind him with a jet pack attached to his back and Steve remained beside him.
Bucky stood alone just staring at you.
Then he started walking.
Opening the door, your name fell from his lips before he ran towards you and you ran to him.
Crashing in the middle, Bucky’s arms held your tightly almost crushing your bones.
“Y/n,”
“James,” you felt yourself smile.
“You’re alive?”
“Apparently.”
He just held you tighter. “I didn’t believe him. He told me…you were here and…you’re really here.”
Bucky felt himself laugh a little. He was stunned. To him, he hadn’t spoken to you in over seventy years, but he knew, to you, you and him had spoken that morning.
He never forgot you.
He never let himself forget you.
You meant too much to him.
“I don’t have a clue what’s going on, but boy am I glad to see you.”
Bucky laughed again before leaning back to look at you. Instinctively, he held your face. Both of you had tears in your eyes but that didn’t matter.
“God, you’re alive.”
Bucky hugged you again.
“If you two love birds have finished, might we get back to work?” Hank called out.
Scott nudged him and Hope slapped him across the head. Meanwhile, you remained fixed in Bucky’s arms.
Hours and hours and hours of work later, you were sitting on your own since Bucky had left to go and get you something to eat.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Sam came and sat beside you.
“Something tells me I don’t make it back home.”
“Maybe you’re not meant to.”
You just looked at Sam. And he took a breath before talking again.
“First time I asked Bucky about his life before,” Sam started. “The first person he mentioned was you. You were close to him. And he was close to you. He told me losing you was one of the worst pains he ever suffered through. And when Steve mentioned your name today, I saw someone come back to life inside of him. A person even I haven’t seen in Bucky since that day when he first talked about you.”
You didn’t exactly know where Sam was going with his speech, so you just let him continue.
“Maybe, for whatever reasons will help you rationalise this, you were meant to be here instead. With these two, but most importantly…” Sam just pointed to Bucky across the room who was handing out different lunch meals to everyone as Peter carried the tray.
“Nothing is as I remember it.”
“Maybe you’re not as you remember.”
You just looked at Sam, puzzled.
“Those two science nerds will probably have some big, elaborate explanation but, maybe you didn’t time travel. Maybe you just got stranded in time. Pushed through each year in order to get to this one. And, whenever you dropped-”
“Literally.”
“Into here…it was because you needed to. Because it was meant to be.”
You rolled your eyes a little and laughed. “Okay.”
Sam just chuckled and nudged you.
Bucky eventually made his way over to you, just in time to hear Sam ask; “And if you’ve got any tips on how to tap into Mr White Wolf, I’ll take ‘em.”
Sam tapped Bucky on the arm as he passed him by, heading towards the food Steve was opening up at one of the tables.
“It’s not ration food, but it’s the closest I could find to something familiar.”
You smiled accepting the meal as Bucky sat beside you and ate his own with you.
Looking around you, you took everyone in. The super soldiers, the humans, the ego filled scientists and the kids. And the longer you looked, the more it started to look familiar.
Maybe a different room, maybe a different year.
But it was still the same.
Then Sam’s words echoed in your head.
“Meant to be.”
A month later, you were still in the future. People were still looking for answers but the longer time pushed on, the more you began to realise maybe Sam was right. Maybe this was where you were meant to be.
Content: alternate universe (Bucky doesn't have a vibranium left arm or super soldier serum), age gap (he is about 15 years older than the reader), skinny dipping, drinking/drunkenness, teasing, flirting, grumpy/sunshine trope, reader is described as being smaller than Bucky, suggestive comments, kissing, fade to black
Word Count: 8k
Synopsis: Just when Ranger Barnes thought he was done mentoring rookies, he’s stuck with you: the eternally optimistic newbie with a knack for baked goods and novelty hiking socks. You’re looking forward to a memorable first season in the park, and you’re determined not to let the grumpy, albeit handsome veteran ruin it for you.
Author's Note: I'm excited to share my contribution to Bucky's Dreamhouse collab with the awesome @stantastic-association. Many thanks to @miraclediviner for making this collaboration possible. You are ever the organizer and we all appreciate your hard work. Thank you to @buckybarnes82 for the beta read. ILY. I know nothing about being a park ranger. Don’t come after me. These are strictly ✨ vibes ✨
My Masterlist | Bucky’s Dreamhouse Masterlist
Read on AO3
Ranger J. Barnes Logbook - May 15
I was promised no more rookies. No more having to mentor these bright-eyed newbies anymore. HR begged me to take on just one more this summer, so I caved. I meet the kid on Monday. I'd better get hazard pay.
Items of note: Southwest Trail full of stacked rock markers. Disassembled and returned to correct environment. Damn tourists.
After working your ass off earning your degree in conservation and ecology, you’re ready to put your skills to the test and hit the ground running at Buchanan National Park. Instead, you’re stuck in a summer-long training program with the world’s grumpiest man. And you forgot to pack your lunch. You usually have such great luck. Maybe you’ve reached your limit. All those late nights studying, early mornings running across campus to make your lab class, and countless “environmentally friendly” takeout coffee cups have culminated in this. Yes, the park offers stunning views and you don’t have to sit beneath fluorescent lights in a depressing cubicle all day, but your “mentor” leaves much to be desired. Ranger Barnes is the epitome of bitter coffee, furrowed brows, and snarky comments. Can too much fresh air make a person a cynic? You hope not. How can someone who spends all day every day out in the sunshine under blue skies have such a sour attitude? Was he born frowning? Is his face stuck that way? It’s beyond you. He’s worse than a bear in search of his first meal after a long hibernation. It’s only week two. How are you supposed to put up with this for nearly two months?
"Don't forget your logbook, Rookie," he grumbles as he shoves a protein bar and a few clementines in his pack. You watch him zip the bag with ease and set it on a nearby counter.
"Sure thing, Vet," you grumble back. Your nicknames are not at all contentious or uttered with malice. Not at all. Ha. "What's on the agenda today? Ooooh, are we going to yell at tourists for not following park rules? Maybe we’ll get to pick up X-rated litter at the campsites? Or–oh!–you'll even show me the firewatch station? The weather is going to be perfect today, you know."
"We'll see, kid," he mumbles, lacing up his hiking boots with a grunt.
You roll your eyes, tired of his incessant attitude and the unnecessary nickname. Kid. Blech. You're twenty-three, not a child. And if you had to guess, he's at least ten years older than you, maybe more, but still not old enough to call you a kid. You say your name in response, willing him to call you by it instead of the irritating moniker. He nods, but doesn’t apologize.
James "Bucky" Barnes has been a park ranger for nearly sixteen years, and he has the scars and stories to prove it. Newbies tend to romanticize the gig, and his personal mission is to beat the optimism out quickly and quietly—preferably over a Thermos of hot coffee on a cliff side. But you, optimistic little you, were having none of it. Like a wild stallion he just can’t break, you show up everyday with that damned smile plastered across your face, always always armed with some baked goods you've whipped up the night before and a random nature anecdote in the chamber. Today’s is about how direct sunlight on the skin can decrease cortisol levels in the body.
"I made banana bread," you say, pulling the wrapped loaf out of your backpack. “I forgot my lunch, so I’m stealing a piece for our break.”
Bucky smirks knowingly. Like clockwork. "Great. Bears are gonna love you today," he replies.
You scoff. "Don't pretend you don't eat up every last crumb at the end of your shift. I watched you lick the plate clean when I brought that blueberry cheesecake last week." It was amazing. You’d used blueberries from your home garden. They were perfectly round and juicy.
"I was hungry. We hiked all over the damn park that day!" He retorts with a huff.
Such a huffy, grumbly human. "You're probably just getting old," you reply with a shrug and a smirk. "Tiring out faster than you did in your prime. When do you qualify for Medicare again? You must be getting close.”
“Ha-ha,” Bucky faux laughs and grimaces, silently wincing at the idea of you thinking he's past his prime. He turns away from you toward the mirror above the utilitarian sink. The ranger's cabin near the entrance of the park serves as a break room/locker storage/First Aid area with an emergency eye wash station. His reflection shows a few shining grays highlighting his temples and chin. You're not wrong about him being older, but he doesn’t agree with being past his prime. In fact, he feels like he’s just cresting that hill. And he’s definitely not eligible for fucking Medicare anytime soon.
Teasing your pissy mentor has quickly become a highlight of your day, and you giggle under your breath as he inspects himself in the mirror with an appraising look. You change from your slip-on Birks to one of your favorite pairs of hiking socks: sky blue with jump-roping avocados. Bucky turns back toward you and subtly rolls his eyes at your ridiculous socks before throwing on his backpack.
“Do you ever have any fun? Or do you get your kicks from sucking it out of whatever room you happen to be in?" You ask as you pull on your boots with an oomph.
“Hmm,” he watches you and pretends to mull it over, scratching his fingers through the stubble on his chin. "The second one. Fun-sucking."
You send a tight-lipped frown his way as you lace up your boots and rearrange a few things in your pack. You always feel like a kid on the first day of school when you put it on–two thumbs through the loops as you smile enthusiastically at the beautiful day outside. You’re ready for whatever magic the park decides to show you today.
Bucky glances at the banana bread on the communal counter and back at your pack. "You're not going to bring more than a piece with you? Won’t you get hungry?"
"Did you not point out earlier that I'd be eaten alive by the rabid bears that inhabit the park if I take that out of the wrapping?"
He shakes his head. "Dramatic much?"
You click your tongue and smile. "Only because I know it gets under your skin, old man."
He makes a mental note to pack some extra food with his lunch tomorrow in case you forget again. Rolling his shoulders with a big sigh, he declares, "You're gonna kill me before I retire."
Ranger J. Barnes Logbook - May 29
The Rookie is going to kill me. This job is going to break her heart. She's too optimistic, too impressionable. I need to have a serious talk about burnout and managing expectations.
Items of note: Picked up litter left by an unsanctioned campsite. At least they used protection. Insane banana bread. Buy better sun protection-do I look old?
An official summer kick-off party with the other rangers is not Bucky’s definition of fun, but you, little ball of incessant sunshine, assured him that it would be a great time, stating that it’s important for elderly people to get out of their homes and interact with others. It keeps the mind sharp and the hips groovin’. He’d rolled his eyes at that, but you peeped his mouth turned up slightly at the corner–a crack in his invisible shield.
“You never come to these things,” Alex, a fellow ranger, pokes at Bucky as you two sit on a wooden picnic bench under some string lights. The bar hosting the event is rustic with a touch of mountain-town charm that’s hard to pin down.
“Yeah, well, this one convinced me with her feminine trickery,” he huffs, scratching at the sweaty label on his bottle of Coors.
You laugh and roll your eyes. “The feminine trickery was the homemade tiramisu I brought on Thursday,” you inform Alex swiftly. “He has a sweet tooth. I simply played to his weakness. And now, Bucky, you get to relax and recharge to the sounds of cicadas and John Denver. Don’t forget to thank me!”
“Not happenin’,” he grunts as he takes a drink of beer.
Alex laughs and offers his drink up in cheers. You clink yours against it. “No, seriously,” he starts, “I haven’t seen Barnes at one of these work parties in… damn, have I ever seen you at one? So, whatever you’re doing, keep it up, new girl!” He waves you both off with a salute as he heads inside to the bar.
“See, I told you that people want you here,” you say, shifting your attention back to Bucky. “They look up to you, Vet.”
“It’s not that I think people don’t want me here,” he starts. “I guess I’m just more of a solo guy.”
“That’s called a loner, Bucky,” you say with a friendly wink. “Alone time is important. I don’t want you to think I’m knocking solitude, but being around people can be nice too.”
He nods like he agrees and notices your nearly empty glass. “What are you drinking?”
You look from him to your empty glass and back again. “A Sea Breeze.”
“Sea breeze?” He repeats for confirmation with a furrowed brow. “Now what the hell is that?”
You laugh at his antics and list the juicy ingredients in the cocktail. He stands up and motions for you to hand him your empty glass. “Here. I got your next fruity little drink, Rookie.”
“Okay,” you smile, giving him the glass. “But only if you get one too. Don’t be a fruity little drink hater, Bucky.”
He swishes around the remnants of the drink and brings it to his nose. “It smells like sugar.”
“Tastes even better,” you quip.
He narrows his eyes at you and notices where your tinted Chapstick has transferred to the glass. He lifts the same spot to his lips and takes a sip of the watered down drink. Your stomach heats at the intimate gesture. Or maybe it’s the alcohol.
“It’s sweet,” he says. “I’ll get one for myself if you take a shot of tequila with me.”
Your eyes widen in shock. “Bucky Barnes, resident loner and fun sucker, wants to do shots? Has Hell frozen over?”
“I don’t want to do shots,” he corrects with a raised brow. “I want to do one shot with the Rookie. You in?”
“I’m in.”
Bucky isn’t sure when one shot turned into three, but now the fireflies are starting to look a bit angelic, like little glowing halos floating around the purple night sky. “Hell did freeze over,” he chuckles. “There’s tiny angels everywhere.”
You smirk and laugh. “Bucky, are you drunk?”
“Mmm…” he thinks it over, looking at you with a slightly glazed expression. “Just a little buzzed. Don’t you have socks with fireflies on them?” He asks, looking under the picnic table. You snap your legs together.
“I’m wearing a dress, Bucky! Eyes up here.”
His face turns an even deeper shade of red. “I’m sorry. I was looking for your cute socks.”
“I’m wearing sandals, Ranger. No cute socks tonight.” You say the last part with a pointed look. Bucky never says things like that. He’s always extremely professional, albeit grumpy as fuck. Get a few drinks in the guy and all of a sudden he turns to pudding.
“I wasn’t trying to look up your dress,” he reiterates, clearly embarrassed.
“I know!” You assure him. “We’re colleagues.”
“Right,” he mutters, looking out at the slowly emptying parking lot.
Before you can dig more into whatever that exchange was, some more coworkers, Natalie and Anton, skip over with handfuls of tiny glasses… full of some type of clear liquid.
“A round on us!” Natalie practically shouts. She’s tipsy and adorable. Anton holds out a glass for you and Bucky.
“To say thank you for helping us with the Junior Ranger camping fiasco last week,” Anton adds, looking fairly sober. Ah, the Junior Ranger camping fiasco. Who knew that flushing a tampon was going to wreak havoc on the entire education cabin? What began as an instructional lecture about what to do if you encounter a bear turned into how to properly dispose of feminine products. Preteens.
You hold a hand up to the offered shot. “That’s so sweet, but I’m feeling good after a couple glasses of water. I can’t.”
“More for me!” Natalie says, downing your shot.
Bucky takes his, clinking it against Anton’s, and downs it. He hisses at the heat of the alcohol and mutters a thank you.
“See you guys at CPR training next month!” Anton shouts over his shoulder as they stagger back into the bar.
“CRP training… I forgot about that…” Bucky mutters, sitting down heavily on his side of the picnic table. He’s clearly drunk. You glance over at his truck and frown. You’re going to have to get him an Uber.
“Bucky? Are you okay with an Uber? I can reserve one for you. You can’t drive,” you say, reaching across the table to get his attention. He sways a bit and smiles.
“You can’t drive,” he chuckles.
“I’m fine to drive. I switched to water after we took a shot together,” you tell him as you pull up the rideshare app on your phone. “Eighty nine dollars? For economy? Christ…” You look up at him, but his eyes are already on you. He’s smiling and a small giggle-like sound erupts from his chest.
“Keys are in my pocket, Rookie,” he slurs. “Come get them.”
“You’re being ridiculous, Bucky. We can take my car. Just don’t throw up in it or you’re paying to get it detailed! We can pick up your truck in the morning.”
“Mmkay,” he agrees easily. “Whatever ya say, cutie patoots.”
“Good lord. Can you walk?” You ask with a grimace. You’re not sure you can support his weight back to your vehicle. He’s much broader and taller than you.
“I can walk,” he utters. “C’mon.”
You offer him a friendly arm, and he loops through yours. “Are you okay?”
“Mhmm.”
He manages to walk fairly steadily back to your Subaru. You help him fold his large body into the passenger seat and buckle him in. Alex walks up as you shut the car door. You offer him a weak smile. “Gotta get this one back to his place. Any idea where he lives?”
“Not a clue. He’s so private,” Alex says. “You sure you’re okay to drive and get him home?”
You tsk. “Yeah, we’ll be fine. Drive safe.”
“You too.”
You get into the car and buckle up before turning to ask Bucky for his address, but he’s out cold.
“Damn it, Barnes!” You yell, but he doesn’t even stir. To your place it is.
The drive is quick and quiet since your driving companion is currently passed out with his mouth slightly ajar. You pull into your parking spot and thank God that you live on the first floor because you have no idea how you’d get this larger than life man up a flight of stairs.
“Bucky?” You ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt. No answer. You shake his arm. “Bucky?” You yell. “Ranger Barnes!” Louder this time.
“Huh?” He rouses, eyes slowly opening and taking in his surroundings. He looks around the unfamiliar car interior and then slowly turns to you. “Oh, hi sunshine.”
“Feeling more like an annoyed rain cloud right now,” you offer. “You’re going to sleep on my couch, okay?”
“Couch. Yeah.”
“Let’s go, old man.”
The state of your apartment is a work in progress to put it mildly. Half open boxes are strewn about. You moved here at the start of the summer, right after graduation, but you’d started at the park at the same time. Days have been long, so it’s been hard to keep momentum and your energy levels up to get fully unpacked.
“You’re messy,” Bucky says, looking around the place on unsteady legs.
“You are the bigger mess right now,” you snarl. “There’s the couch.”
He plops onto it quickly while you grab him a clean blanket and pillow. He has one arm thrown over the back of the couch when you get back, just staring at your ceiling. You hand him the bed linens and stand back, crossing your arms.
“I’ll take you back to your truck in the morning,” you say.
“Mmkay,” he agrees with a sleepy voice as he pulls the blanket up to his chin.
“Night, Bucky.”
“Night angel lightning bug.”
You sigh and head to your bedroom. What a night.
Ranger J. Barnes Logbook - June 8
She hasn't exiled me for her having to drive my drunk ass home after the work party. I'm such a dumbass. And I can't get the vanilla smell of the blanket she threw at me out of my nose. So warm. So her. God damn it.
Items of note: Soil samples today. Google what's in a Sea Breeze besides shame and regret.
The forecast is predicting a high in the mid-nineties today, so you packed your swimsuit in the hopes of taking a dip in the crystal clear lake you spotted a couple weeks ago. It’s secluded, clean, and deep enough to actually enjoy a swim in the cool water.
Bucky is in a better mood than usual today, and has honestly been more friendly overall since the night you let him couch surf. He was awkward as hell the next morning–all apologies and fancy takeout coffee. You assured him it was fine, and definitely didn’t bring up all the pet names he called you when he was out of his right mind. Maybe you remind him of an old flame, but you know it didn’t mean anything. It’s best to just keep trucking until you’re done with this summer training and finally, blissfully on your own. But today, you blame his good mood on your famous fruit salad. You brought it one day last week and it was devoured by lunchtime. You made a huge bowl for everyone again, but this time you made a separate, smaller one for Bucky without the kiwi. You noticed him picking the tiny green chunks out last time.
“You didn’t have to do this,” he says as he forks another mouthful of the fruit into his mouth. Some juice dribbles down his lip and he licks it up. “I can just eat around them.”
You shrug. “It’s no trouble. Plus, maybe I only made you your own bowl to sweet talk you into finally showing me the firewatch tower. It’s called an ulterior motive, or you know… feminine trickery.”
He laughs genuinely before rolling his eyes and spearing a strawberry. “I know what an ulterior motive is. And I stand by the trickery sentiment.”
“So… firewatch tower?” You ask with pleading eyes. You can’t place why, but you’ve been drawn to the tower since your first shift. It has an otherworldly, slightly spooky aura to it, like anything could happen up there. Maybe you are just excited by heights.
“Maybe,” he replies. “If you behave.”
“Maybe?! I made a special bowl of fruit salad sans kiwi for you, Mr. Picky. Show me the tower!”
He laughs and washes his bowl in the sink before filling up two stainless steel bottles with ice water and putting them in his pack.
“Are you super thirsty today or something?” You ask, nodding toward his backpack. “Ooh, did you meet a milf at the bar and drink one too many Sea Breezes?”
“A milf? Jesus, no,” he says with a frown. “It’s going to be really hot today so we need to stay hydrated. I can carry more weight in my pack than you.”
Oh. He packed you an extra water bottle. How… thoughtful. He’s usually all survival of the fittest. “Well, thanks, but I can handle an extra bottle. You don’t have to–”
He tightens the straps of his pack and stands up straight, looking you in the eye while he cuts you off. “I had a former rookie pass out from heat stroke on a trail a few summers back. I don’t want that to happen again, especially…” he trails off before clearing his throat. “Anyway, let’s get going. We’re in C sect today and the Gator is in the shop for repairs, so we have a long trek on foot.”
“Okay, let me lace up my boots,” you say, quickly plopping down on the wooden bench.
Bucky notes your socks today: bananas wearing fedoras and carrying briefcases. “Where do you even find those?” He nods toward your feet–one sock on, one foot still bare. His eyes flit from the bright orange polish on your toes to your concentrated face. The tip of your tongue pokes out between your front teeth as you pull the other sock on.
“My cute socks?” You ask, wondering if he remembers calling them that.
“Sure, I guess.”
You laugh and nod, not sure if he’s playing it off or really doesn’t remember. “My brother gets me a pair for my birthday and Christmas every year. We like to get each other silly, but useful things.”
Bucky smiles. “So what do you get him?”
You pull on your boots and start lacing up. “He’s a lawyer so he has to wear ties and fancy clothes to work. I get him vintage cuff links, bow-ties, pocket squares… that kind of thing. I like to find them at thrift shops, estate sales, you know. The crazier the pattern or style, the better. It must run in our genes to like loud accessories. I once found a pair of cuff links that were tiny bottles of Yoohoo. He loves those."
Bucky chuckles. “How thoughtful. That’s a nice tradition.”
You finish tying your boots.
“C’mon, Rook. Let’s get going.”
After a few hours and miles in, you have to admit that Bucky was right–you are beyond thankful for that extra icy cold water bottle he packed this morning. It’s toasty outside, but thankfully nearly time for lunch. You’ve already finished your first bottle of water, and your throat thanks you as you drink from the second. You sit down on a bench under a covered shelter spot with a few picnic benches, relishing the shade as you check your watch.
Bucky sees you check the time. “We can break early and eat in the shade,” he says, starting to unzip his backpack more. There’s a line of sweat staining his shirt where the pack was sitting against his spine.
“Oh, thank goodness. I’m roasting,” you say. You sigh and look around, realizing exactly where you are. “Actually, I’m going to eat lunch in a bit. I want to walk down to that lake and take my break there if that’s okay.”
“Lac nu?” He asks with a smirk as he takes the lid off his lunch.
You tilt your head, confused. “Is that the name of the lake?” You suppose you hadn’t noticed a sign the last time you were in the area.
Bucky nods slowly, crunching into a carrot.
“Okay, well, I’m going to Lack New or whatever it’s called for my break. I’ll be back in an hour,” you say as you saunter off. He gets so weirdly quiet sometimes. He’s hard to read.
“Watch out for snakes,” he says loudly before he laughs under his breath. He watches you walk away as he bites into another carrot and his tongue. “Damn it!”
Bucky finishes his lunch quickly and picks up some nearby litter before checking his watch–still forty-five minutes before lunch is over. He always ate too fast from working up an appetite logging miles in the park. He fans himself with his logbook and undoes the top button of his brown uniform shirt.
“Ah, fuck it,” he grunts as he slings his pack over one shoulder and follows your path down to the small lake. He normally doesn’t swim in the park because he doesn’t want to interact with dumb tourists, but he doubts anyone will be down there but you. Even though you’re way more chipper than a normal human, you know how to appreciate the park’s beauty without ruining the ecosystem or leaving your mark behind.
The sunlight streams through the surface of the water into the lake below, painting sparkles across the rocky bottom as you swim beneath the clear veneer. The water is lukewarm and doing a magnificent job of cooling you off. You turn and start to float on your back, closing your eyes to the sun for several moments. When you move upright to start another lap, you let out a squeal at Bucky standing on the grassy lake shore.
He holds his hands up in defense with a small smirk. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
You laugh out a sigh in relief that it’s just him. “It’s fine. Just glad I’m not getting axe murdered!” You say as you tread water, letting your head bob above the water. He looks from you to your discarded uniform shoved into your unzipped pack and back again.
“How’s the water?” He asks as he drops his backpack on the grass next to yours.
“It’s perfect, actually,” you smile, readjusting the strap of your swimsuit. “Are you coming in?”
His eyes follow your hand across your shoulder back down under the water. “Would you mind? I don’t have swim trunks, though, so maybe I’ll just put my feet in.”
“Oh, get in here. A little skinny dip never hurt anyone,” you tease with a laugh.
“Uh, okay. You’d better turn around unless you want a show.”
You spin around in the water and make a dramatic show of covering your eyes even though you’re facing the other direction. “Just social distance from me, old man.”
He huffs as he undresses quickly, tossing his clothing in a heap at his feet before wading into the lake. It is perfect. When he’s certain his manhood is hidden beneath the water he calls out to you. “Okay, I’m in. Just don’t look down.”
“Wait, are you seriously naked? I was just joking about skinny dipping!” You shout.
“Well, I seriously don’t have swim trunks, so…”
“Oh,” you say and swallow before spinning around and putting a bit more distance between your two bodies. You decide to trek forward with the conversation and ignore the elephant (Or was it more like a mouse? Stop, brain. Why are you thinking about it?) in the lake. “The water’s nice, huh?”
“Mhmm,” he hums in agreement. His hand comes up above his eyes to shade the sun from his vision as he looks at you. “You know it’s called Lac nu, right? Not Lack New.” He says the former with a French accent and the latter with a slightly offensive American South one.
“What are you talking about?” You ask, perplexed.
“This lake,” he starts, waving a pointer finger around the area. “It’s called Lac nu. It translates to Naked Lake.” He says the last part with a breathy laugh and flicks some water at you.
You snort and roll your eyes. “I guess I’m breaking the rules then?”
“I won’t tell,” he says with a playful wink.
“I think there’s probably a spot in the employee handbook about this,” you joke.
“Skinny dipping?” He asks.
“No, winking at me when you’re naked,” you say with a giggle.
He chuckles and dips lower into the water before dipping his head under to wet his hair. When he resurfaces, your eyes trace the beads of water racing down his neck.
“You’re in a good mood today,” you say, swimming in a circle around him, always keeping your eyes above the water. “What’s the occasion?”
Bucky lets out a sarcastic “ha-ha” and blows water droplets from his lips before dipping back under the water. You watch his eyes open under the surface and drop your jaw as he resurfaces.
“Did you just… sneak a peek?” You ask, pretending to be scandalized. You hold your arms around your body, covering your chest. “Did you just check out your controversially younger coworker? Your mentee?”
He splashes you with yet another eye roll. “First of all, I’m the naked one here. So if anyone should feel exposed, it’s me. Second of all, you’re not controversially younger than me. How old do you think I am, anyway?”
You rub your chin, pretending to think before mocking him. “First of all, Barnes, you’re not denying the checking out your coworker accusation. Second of all, I’m not guessing your age.” You huff, feeling like you’ve won.
“You’re ridiculous,” he says matter of factly. “I’m thirty-eight for the record.”
You size him up–the smattering of grays you’re met with day after day, the broad shoulders and beefy arms built by years in the park, the crow’s feet around his blue eyes when he flashes you a rare smile. “Yeah, I suppose thirty-eight checks out.”
“Now who’s doing the checking out?” He asks cheekily as he swims further into the lake. His back is to you now.
You notice the constellation of freckles across his tanned shoulders and the muscles there. The sun’s rays hit the water just so, shining through the lake. You follow the trail of light with your gaze under the surface, down the hard lines of his back to his…
That’s not a butt. That’s a–oh.
“Eyes up here, Rookie.”
You snap your eyes up to to his and your cheeks immediately heat in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to–I-I wasn’t trying to…” Words escape you.
He laughs and runs a hand through his wet hair. “Come on. Let’s get dressed and get back to work. I’ll go first so you can get dressed in private. Keep an eye out for water snakes, would ya?”
You gasp at the naughty joke and watch him get out of the water, his back to you. He climbs the small incline gracefully. You only notice your bottom lip between your teeth as he ducks behind a nearby bush to dry off and get dressed. You let go of the flesh and clear your throat, willing your body to calm down before you exit the lake. Why do you feel all tingly? Surely a brain eating amoeba has made its way into your ear canal and started its work. It’s definitely not your grumpy, graying, somewhat pessimistic coworker. Right?
“All clear,” he says with a wink as he trots up the hill fully dressed and out of sight. Your stomach flutters again. Oh no.
Ranger J. Barnes Logbook - June 30
Lac nu is a hidden gem of the park, and I'm thankful for it today. It was nearly 90 degrees and served as a cool-off during our lunch break. Fuck, this logbook is turning into evidence. Must burn to ash when it's filled.
Items of note: Orange toes and swimsuit. Wet hair. Nature is beautiful, but she's stunning.
CPR training–not an aphrodisiac, just a standard practice, great knowledge to have in case of emergencies, absolutely not a turn-on. Ugh… until it’s his turn to do chest compressions.
You have definitely never listened to those breathy, suggestive audios of dudes doing push-ups to failure on Quinn. Not the ones where they’re practically moaning “baby girl” through your headphones while you get a little sweaty folding laundry. And you’re absolutely NOT thinking of how Bucky sounds like he’s doing those devious push-ups right now. He’s trying to save Hector’s life for crying out loud! Hector is the CPR dummy that you are slightly, weirdly jealous of right now. A lock of hair falls out of place across Bucky’s forehead as he keeps pressing on Hector’s chest. His arms–God, have they always been so veiny and muscular–are tensed from the compressions, and his face is flushed from the exertion. Your mind wanders to what other activities make the Ranger flush and you feel a blush creep up your neck. He’s like… old. What is wrong with you?
You hear your name and are pulled from your sexy trance. “Huh?”
“You’re up,” the instructor says.
Bucky takes his place next to you and nudges your shoulder. “Go! He’s literally dying.”
You huff and kneel down next to the dummy.
“To the rhythm of Stayin’ Alive by The Bee Gees,” the instructor says, nodding for you to begin. You start the compressions and count, growing tired by the end. No wonder Bucky was huffing and breathing a little more… well, just more than you’re used to when he was doing this. Why did his breathing sound hot? Are you ovulating? You mentally count back to your last period and shake your head. No, definitely not ovulating anymore. That must mean you actually think he’s hot. Your mind isn’t clouded by some cavewoman needs. These are your true, luteal phase thoughts. Oh no. You save Hector from the brink of death and take your place back by Bucky as a few other colleagues revive the dummy.
“Good work,” Bucky says with a wink. “You got a little tired at the end, huh?”
“I guess so.”
“You sounded a little breathy,” he adds to which you look up at him with irritation.
“So did you!"
“Did I?” He asks.
“Yes, you were all huh huh ugh heeehuhhhh ugh huh.” You imitate his breathing.
He smirks, holding back a laugh. “Do you want to run that by me again?”
“Oh, hush!” You say. The instructor glances up at the two of you. Damn, if looks could kill.
“Your face is red,” Bucky whispers, leaning down a bit to get his mouth closer to your ear.
“Yeah, well, I just did chest compressions. Besides, you’re sweaty.”
“I’m not sweaty,” he says.
“You’re… there’s a sheen,” you say, pointing to his face and circling the air around his head.
“A sheen?” He smirks.
“Yes, Bucky, a sheen.”
“Now it’s more pink than red,” he says, nodding at your face. “Now it’s the same color as it was when you saw that water snake in the lake.”
“Bucky!” You gasp. “I didn’t see anything.
“Mmm, I think you did. You blushed like you did.”
“Let it go, Barnes.”
“Oh, I’m never forgetting that, sunshine. Ever.”
You huff and cross your arms as the instructor stands and claps his hands together. “Okay, let’s move on to First Aid.”
Ranger J. Barnes Logbook - July 6
Hector is enemy number one. Why can't I stop thinking about her flushed face and the way she was breathing? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
Items of note: So much July 4th garbage around the campsites. Disposed of properly and citations issued as needed. Be respectful, people.
“Guess where we’re going today?” Bucky asks with a genuine smile as you both start out on the main trail.
“Well, I’ve given up on the firewatch tower, so… maybe to clean up some campgrounds?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “You’ve given up too easily.”
Your eyes widen and you gasp. “You’re taking me?!”
“I’m taking you. It’s a long walk, so I’m glad you packed some extra trail mix.”
“Bucky!” You exclaim, jumping on the dirt trail. “I’m so excited! Thank you!” You hug him and he carefully wraps one arm around your waist to return the sentiment.
“You-you’re welcome, Rookie.”
You can hear something in his voice and break away, realizing that it’s kind of inappropriate to hug your coworker.
“Sorry,” you mutter, looping your thumbs through your backpack straps for something to focus on that’s not his muscle-y back.
“It’s fine,” he assures you. “You smell like oranges.”
You laugh. “I made orange juice this morning.”
“What? With real oranges?”
“Of course!” You say. “It’s way better that way.”
“You really are a ray of sunshine.”
“Thanks. You’re kind of a storm cloud, but we need some rain, so…”
He laughs and nods. “That’s actually why I figured now’s the perfect time to show you the tower. We’re technically in a drought at this point, so forest fires are more likely. It’s important that you know what to look for if you ever have to cover the tower. Usually they have special rangers for it, but if someone is out and you get called up, you have to know your shit.”
“Sounds good.”
You start your trek to the tower with a smile on your face, his spicy deodorant in your nose, and butterflies in your stomach.
When you’re about a quarter mile from the tower, the clouds start quickly rolling in.
“Did you check the weather today?” You ask Bucky, biting your lip nervously. You didn’t pack umbrellas or any rain gear.
“I-uh, it must have slipped my mind.” It’s your fault it slipped his mind. He was watching you pull on your ridiculous hiking socks-golfballs with moustaches and tees wearing high heels-and forgot to check the damn app.
The last four hundred yards to the tower are a mad, rain-soaked dash.
By the time you reach cover you’re both drenched, chilled, and your feet are covered in blisters from the rainwater squelching in your hiking boots. You didn’t expect to see the tower for the first time looking like a wet noodle while Bucky somehow looks like a wet Adonis. Unfair.
You carefully climb the slick stairs to the top and both heave a sigh of relief when you’re safely under the roof. Finally.
The clouds outside darken and the wind picks up, making the branches of the trees dance in a frantic rhythm. You watch from one of the many windows. It’s not just rain. It’s a full-on thunderstorm.
“Well, I don’t think you’re going to spot any rogue wildfires now,” Bucky says with a click of his tongue. He sits on a small cot in the corner and pulls his log book out of his pack.
“This is kind of beautiful, though,” you muse, watching the way the rain is coming down in sheets of silver.
“Nature is, yeah,” he says quietly and he uncaps his pen with his teeth and chews on the cap thoughtfully before the pen meets the page.
“What are you always writing in there?” You ask, nodding toward the weathered book.
“Observations.”
“I don’t write in mine enough then. You’re always jotting stuff down. Can I read it? Get an idea of what I should be documenting?” You walk toward him and he snaps the book shut. “No. It’s… you know… a Ranger’s logbook is personal.”
“C’mon,” you laugh. “How personal can soil samples be?”
“Extremely!”
“Fine, grumpy,” you say, too soaked and cold to fight him on it. “How long do you think this will last?”
He glances out the window with a shrug. “No clue. You cold?”
You nod, and he looks under the cot. He grunts as he pulls a heavy trunk upright and clicks open the latches. There’s an array of first aid supplies, tarps, blankets, a couple National Park Service sweatshirts in an ugly shade of moss green. He hands one to you. “You should take your top off.”
“Sorry?” You gasp.
“No!” He stammers, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “I mean you should take your wet shirt off before you put the dry sweatshirt on or else you’ll stay cold. I’m not looking.”
He turns around and looks out the opposite window with his arms crossed. By the time you’ve shed your shirt and cozied up in the dry, ugly sweatshirt he asks “You decent?”
“Yeah,” you say. He turns around too. At least you’re wearing matching ugly sweatshirts. In this fashion crime together.
“So, we’re kind of stuck up here for a bit, aren’t we?” You ask.
“Looks like it.”
"Okay, we could just play a game to pass the time, or volley questions back and forth to get to know each other better," you suggest. You feel like you only know the surface of this man, and you wonder if he’d let you crack him open a bit like the sky outside.
“Sure,” Bucky rifles through the drawers of the decrepit desk near the cot, searching for a pack of cards. Nothing. He slams the last drawer, and it's punctuated by a flash of lightning outside.
"Is it actually safe to be up here when there's lightning?" You ask, peering out the window at the raging storm.
He shrugs. "It's better than being on the ground of a literal forest. With trees."
You roll your eyes. "Fine. Questions it is. I'll go first. What's your favorite color?"
Bucky sits on the cot in the corner and leans his head against the wall. He shrugs. "I don't really have one."
"You don't - okay, nevermind. What's your favorite dessert?" You try again, leaning on the desk across the small room.
His lips quirk into a smile. "Don't get a big head about it, but that cheesecake you made."
"Aww, you love my goodies," you tease as his eyes widen and he snorts out a laugh. "Sorry, that sounded-"
"My turn," he says, cutting you off. "What's your favorite part of the park so far? I know you haven't seen everything, but…?"
You consider his question and look around at the tall trees, some at eye-level in the tall tower. There's a lot of things you like about the park - the way it's misty in the morning sometimes after a night rain, when the frogs in the pond by the Ranger cabin will quiet themselves if it gets too loud with human noise, how the light filters through the trees when the sun isn't directly overhead, when Bucky always asks if you have your logbook (even though you only use it for doodles of flora and noting down how often he sighs when he's particularly grumpy, and the way he's watching you right now). Whoops. You hope you don’t have to turn it in at the end of training.
"My favorite part of the park?" You repeat the question, eyes wide at your internal realization. "Having you as my mentor has been nice."
His eyes flit to yours, brow furrowed. "That doesn't count, plus I'm not that great. You don't have to say that-"
"I'm not saying anything I don't mean," you retort. A flash of lightning lights up the sky with a crack of thunder following not long after. It's not letting up, and you silently wonder how long you'll be taking refuge here. "But if you want me to pick something in nature, I guess I'd say just how big some of the tree roots are. Some of them are thicker than two people put together. It's incredible. You're kind of like a tree root, you know."
He scoffs. "Well, you keep bringing in sugary desserts and goodies."
You laugh and roll your eyes. "No! That's not what I mean. I'm not saying you're thick," you say with a giggle. He is terribly, deliciously thick, but in the best way. "I'm saying you remind me of the roots of a tree - stable, grounded, only searching for the good soil, one with the Earth. Strong. All that jazz."
“All that jazz,” he hums and nods his head, eyes moving to the storm outside. You peep a blush on his cheeks. "Like roots, okay."
"What would I be?" You ask, nudging his foot with yours. "And don't say anything about the muskrats."
He chuckles and assesses you before swallowing. He knows what he wants to say, but isn't sure if it's too much. He knows he got too flirty… too inappropriate at the lake the other day, and he needs to reel it in, but damn. He doesn't want to regret not saying how he feels.
"Okay, I have an answer," he says, voice a bit deeper than it was seconds ago. "Do you know how the sun hits the water at a certain angle and makes it shimmer? But with colors, like…" he searches for the right word, but you fill it in for him.
"Like a rainbow prism?" You offer.
"Yes, exactly like… a prism. Every color kind of dances across the surface. That's what you would be," he answers, running a hand through his beard like he's stressed.
Your chest heats at his answer. It almost sounds romantic if you didn't know better. "Why'd you pick that?" You ask eagerly. You swallow, trying to push down any expectations.
He clears his throat and decides to just go for it. "Because you came blazing into this park and into… my life… in color. Your whole persona is just like a rainbow I guess - your weird socks, your smile, your jokes, your orange toes, just you. You bring life into this place. Into my life, too. I wasn’t looking forward to one last mentee, but you… I’m just glad it was you.”
You close your mouth. It had fallen open during Bucky's short but effective declaration. "I-I'm not sure what to say," you start. "Which is a first for me."
He laughs and shrugs. "You don't have to say anything. You're done with training after this shift anyway."
"I'm done with training?" You repeat, blinking at him. "But I thought I had the rest of the week with you.
"No," he says, shaking his head. He pulls a crinkled and folded paper out of his shorts pocket. "I graduated you this morning. I guess I just wanted one more shift with you." He looks at his watch. "And the shift just officially ended, so you're a full-fledged Ranger now, sunshine."
"So you're not my supervisor anymore?" You clarify, pushing off the desk you're leaning on and taking a step toward him. Another crack of thunder intensifies the already heady air of the tower.
"Correct," he says, standing up. "Are you… happy about that?"
"Ecstatic, in fact," you say, taking another tentative step. He meets you in the middle and you breathe the same humid air for what feels like a full minute. His chest is heaving in symphony with yours. Eyes bounce from each other to your lips to his eyes and back again like a mating ritual.
"Why?" He breathes across your skin. His breath is minty and smells slightly of honeydew. "Because now you can do this?" He mutters as his lips brush against yours. You inhale sharply at the contact and your heart picks up its pace. The rain outside starts coming down in heavier sheets, soaking the deck surrounding the tower.
"Yeah," you answer weakly. All sense of reality has been turned on its head as his tongue slips easily into your mouth. Kissing Bucky is like dipping your toe into Lac nu, like picking the first ripe strawberry of the season off the vine, like sinking into fresh bedsheets dried on the line after a long day. It feels right. So right. It’s warm and light and perfect. He breaks away first and you can feel his smile.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since you called me an old man that first week,” he admits.
“You called me an angel lightning bug,” you mutter with a smile.
He looks at you with a quizzical brow. “Those Sea Breezes got to my head, didn’t they?”
“They did.”
“Well, you know what they say… drunk words are sober thoughts.”
“You should kiss me again,” you whisper. “You taste like honeydew.”
His hands find the nape of your neck and his fingers comb through your damp hair as he pulls your mouth toward his. “You taste like mine.”
Ranger J. Barnes Logbook - July 15
Maybe I'll give her this logbook when I marry her annoying, perfect, sunshine and rainbows ass. Why the hell does the firewatch tower have a condom stash?
Items of note: Replenish the firewatch tower's condom stash.
"Would it be too crazy if we slept together?" Your sweet voice replayed over and over in his mind. He hadn't flat out refused your offer, but he hadn't said yes either. Now as he laid under the rubble of the bomb Hydra had detonated, it was all he could think of.
You were friends, one of the only people besides Steve to make him feel welcome on the Avengers. The others were wary of him, and he didn’t blame them. He had done unforgivable things as The Winter Soldier. Now he was fighting for the right cause. He couldn't help the reoccurring nightmares of the horrors he encountered in his past. He didn't want to get too comfortable in his new life, the one Steve helped him obtain because he was scared The Winter Soldier was still lurking around in his brain somewhere.
That's why he never dated. Sam would tease him, telling him he could have anybody he wanted, but he settled for his hand every night. Bucky couldn't afford to get too close to anyone. Especially someone who was weaker than him like the opposite sex. He was scared he would lose control while being intimate and hurt or even kill his partners. So he never let anyone get too close, until you.
You came bouncing into his life unexpectedly. You were brought on the team shortly after him. He would never forget your first day. Steve introduced you to everyone at the morning meeting. You were all smiles, your bubbly personality instantly drawing him in. The others were making comparisons between the two of you immediately. You were so happy, so upbeat all the time and Steve was the only one who could get Bucky to crack his cold exterior and actually smile.
Despite your differences, you got along great. Which was a bonus since Tony liked to pair you together for missions. You worked well together, complimenting each other in ways you had never thought of. Who knew almost dying together every week can cause you to form close bonds? You were spending all your free time together. You introduced him to your favorite films, some of them were awful, but he would never tell you that. You would stay up late together watching old reruns of 90's sitcoms for comfort after long missions. Bucky would go shopping with you, holding every bag you had and never complaining.
The team thought something was going on between you. Why else would the cold super soldier follow you around like a lost puppy? They put Steve up to asking about it, but Bucky denied anything but friendship. There had never been anything happen in the whole year you knew each other. You never sat too close or crossed any boundaries, never thought about it until a month ago.
One of the longest, most dangerous missions you had ever been on finally came to a close. There had been too many casualties and you were upset. Even the comfort of your warm pajamas and favorite movie didn't ease your mind. Bucky thought you needed to be alone, so he told you goodnight and headed for his room. You called after him pleading him to stay with you. You couldn't be alone, not after that.
He hesitated, he never stayed the night with anyone because of his nightmares. Tony even gave him a pass when a mission required room sharing. He was the only one who didn't have to pair up. He was afraid he might hurt you or scare you during his sleep. He tried to tell you, but you couldn't be swayed. He found himself under your fluffy pink comforter on heart shaped pillows, surrounded by a mountain of stuffed animals but he felt oddly at home.
You tried to cuddle up to him, but he scooted away. He didn't want you too close to him while he was asleep just in case he had a nightmare. But you didn't care. You told him if he attacked you in his sleep, you would blast his dick off. That made him a little less worried. "How do Tony and Clint do it?" You asked as you wrapped your arms around him, trying to snuggle the grumpy super soldier. "Do what?" He relaxed a little under your touch. "The whole normal family thing. They have a wife, kids, the works, and they are the only ones. The rest of us can't keep a relationship for more than a month, and some only do one night stands. It's hard being a hero when you have to give up stuff like that."
Bucky considers your words carefully. "Is that something you want?" You throw your leg over him, trying to get comfortable. "Eventually, I want to settle down. I'm thinking at least ten years from now, not any time soon. It's just hard to tell who is asking you out for the right reasons or because you're famous. I can't tell you how many phones I've destroyed after dates because they were trying to live stream the whole thing. Is that why you don't date?"
Bucky tenses, explaining how his past as The Winter Soldier scared him away from anything like that. "So you haven't been having sex because you're scared you will hurt someone?" He nods and you giggle. Bucky looks at you like you've grown a second head. "I'm sorry Bucky, that's ridiculous. Your arm must be so tired! Oh my God! Do you use the metal one?" His silence makes you laugh harder. "Bucky there are super powered women you could have been sleeping with this whole time. People who could at least put up a fair fight if something like that happened, but you're okay now right? I thought the code words didn't work anymore." You rub his back soothingly.
You gasp as an idea hits you. "Would it be too crazy if we slept together?" It was like word vomit. You didn't mean to say it out loud, but you couldn't take it back now. Bucky is so still that you think he's fallen asleep. Thankful he didn't hear your unhinged suggestion, you lay your head down to go to sleep.
"You mean that?" Bucky asks after a few minutes of silence pass. "If it wouldn't hurt our friendship then, why not? I trust you. And I could hold my own if things went sideways. Plus, I'm a lot hotter than your hand, you have to admit that." The quip earned a chuckle from him. "Can I think about it?" He asks, his seriousness taking over. "Of course." You snuggle back into him, sleep finding you more quickly than you would've liked. That was a little over a month ago, neither of you brought it up afterward. You figured he didn't want to hurt your feelings, so you let it go.
Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand helping him to his feet. "I thought we lost you back there." He says leading him to the quinjet. On the ride home, Bucky thought about his life, how unhappy he had been lately. He thought of you and how he kept you at arm's length to protect you from himself. You were always so open to him, always letting him know what was on your mind. When you suggested the two of you sleep together, he was shocked. Of course, he wanted to but he couldn't. You were too sweet, he was jaded. He would end up hurting you somehow, he was sure of it. But you weren't scared of him, you trusted him.
Bucky thought of all the times he laid alone at night, masterbating when he could have went home with someone instead. He always turned them down, he couldn't risk it. He lived too dangerously. He could lose his life any moment saving the planet from the next alien attack. Wasn't it time he started living for himself? He had his mind made up when the quinjet landed. Steve told him to go get the cuts on his face and arm examined but he ignored him.
He almost ran to the elevator, not bothering to wait for Steve to get on before pressing the button to shut the doors. When it finally stopped on his floor, he walked by his room, stopping three doors down right outside of yours. He should have cared that it was three in the morning, that he would be waking you up, but he didn't. He tapped on the door loud enough to wake you.
He regretted coming straight here as he waited for you, he should have went to his room to shower first. His leather jacket was dirty and torn. There was a small gash on his arm that had finally stopped bleeding. His face was filthy and according to Steve, he had a cut there too. He probably looked terrifying. He thought about leaving to clean up, but then he heard the pitter patter of your feet as you approached the door.
You pull it open slightly at first, to see who is outside, opening it wider when you see him. He steps inside as you shut it back, locking it behind him. Bucky looks around the dark room noticing the glow from your tv. Your hair is messy, you must have been sleeping fitfully. His gaze drops to your body, you're wearing a black t-shirt that stops at your hips and black lace panties.
"Are you okay?" You ask taking in his disheveled appearance. You turn to get something to clean his wounds, his vibranium hand catches your wrist. "Bucky? What hap-" He picks you up with one arm, holding you close to his body as his lips crash into yours. He walks you to the edge of your bed, tumbling on top of you as your back hits your fluffy pink comforter.
"Do you still want this?" He asks, his voice rougher than he intended. You can't think clearly, not with him on top of you, caging you in like this. His blue eyes search your face as he waits for an answer. Your panties grow wetter with each second that passes. Your nipples are peaked under your shirt, desperate to be touched as you press your chest to his dirty leather jacket. "Yes" You somehow manage to whisper your confirmation.
His mouth is on yours again, rough and demanding, almost desperate. You cup his face with your hands, "Slow down, I'm not going anywhere." You assure him, breaking the kiss. He groans, hating the loss of contact. "Can't" He rasps, his face nuzzling against your neck. He nips and kisses the sensitive skin there, his tongue licking from your shoulder to your jaw.
His flesh hand travels to your chest, rubbing his thumb over your clothed nipple. He keeps kissing his way back down your throat until he reaches the collar of your shirt. His metal arm grabs the top, slipping underneath to get a good grip on it. He rips it down the center with little effort.
You gasp as the cold air hits your now exposed chest. But you're not cold for long, Bucky's lips capture a nipple between his lips tugging and sucking like his life depends on it while his flesh hand toys with the other one. You're not sure what has gotten into him, you never expected it to be like this, like he needs you.
He kisses a trail down your stomach to your panties. They aren't exactly see through, but they don't hide anything either. His vibranium fingers dig into your hip as he lowers his face, his pink tongue licking up the center of your soaked panties. You whimper underneath him, your fingers sliding in his hair, pulling at the short strands.
He grunts as he licks you through the lacy material. You try to close your legs around his head, hoping to bring yourself more relief. Bucky's steel grip on your hip tightens as he brings his flesh hand to your thigh, pulling it off him. He opens you wide, continuing his desperate assault on you. "I need more, please." You whine, needing to actually feel him against you.
He thankfully takes mercy on you, removing his hands to grab both sides of your panties. "Lift your hips for me." You do as your told, and he slides the unwanted garment off of you. He drags you to the edge of the bed, lowering himself on his knees in front of you. He parts your thighs, metal hand returning to its rightful place on your hip. You place your leg over his shoulder, taking a deep breath as the anticipation makes your skin prickle.
His hot breath on your soaked core makes you tremble. You feel him smirk against you. "I havent even touched you yet and you're shakin' like a leaf." A dark chuckle escapes him and he dives in. His tongue flat against you as he gathers your slick, bringing it to your clit and swirling it around. He moans, loving the way you taste. He wraps his lips around your most sensitve part, drawing you in, causing your hips to buck upward.
His grip on your hip tightens, a bruise beginning to form under his thumb. "Be a good girl for me. Stay still." His voice is soft, gentle, a complete contrast to his actions. He alternates between sucking you roughly and licking you slowly. You squirm underneath him, you're so close. He suddenly stops, removing his face from you.
His flesh hand rubbing your stomach, before laying his arm on you forcefully to keep you from moving. "I said stay still." He growls, his tongue swiping your clit before he sucks it between his lips once more. It takes every ounce of concentration you have to not writhe against him. You've never seen him like this so needy, almost feral. He's like a wild animal slurping you down like you're the first thing he's eaten in weeks. You don't dare to disturb him. So you lie as still as you can, letting him have you.
He needs this. He needs you. He flicks his tongue expertly over your clit, sendng you spiralling. He holds you down as he takes all he wants from you. He's not satisfied until you come three times. Your legs are wobbly, you couldn't get up if you had to. Tears stream down your face from how intense it was. He finally stands, unbuttoning his pants, sliding them down just enough to free himself.
He adjusts himself between your legs, filling you up. You gasp, grabbing onto his grimy leather jacket for support. You wonder why he didn't bother with getting undressed, but you don't mind. You love how dirty he is. How the filth on his jacket rubbing against your bare chest is the sexiest thing in the world right now. How you can see the cut on his arm, dried blood on his sleeve. You don't know if it's his or some Hydra asshole's, and you don't know which is hotter.
His hair is disheveled. His face is scraped, dirt from the mission caked on him, remnants of your arousal still on his mouth. He fills you completely over and over, holding you as close as he can. His pants rub the back of your thighs as he pounds into you. You caress his face, "Can I be on top?" You ask quietly, afraid you'll offend him some way in his feral state. He flips you so his back is on your mattress. Normally you would be upset that your sheets were getting dirty, but you didn't mind at all. You place your legs on either side of him, sliding down his length. Your ass hits the fabric of his jeans as you take all of him.
You look behind you noticing how big he looks on your bed. His leather boots covered in mud, hanging off the edge. A gush of arousal floods his lap, his hands hold your thighs, pulling you closer. You begin to lift yourself up and down on him, your legs still shaky from your earlier orgasms. Bucky notices you won't be able to keep it up for long, so he clutches your hips, taking over. He thrusts underneath you, your hands land on his shoulders needing to steady yourself. You love that it's giving the illusion that you're in control, your body on top of his, but he's calling all the shots, moving your body like he owns it.
You've never felt so full. It's as if Bucky can read your mind, his flesh hand pressing on the bulge he's making in your stomach. He works you harder now, his vibranium thumb coming between you to swirl your clit. Your vision goes blurry, stars bursting behind your eyelids. You come with a loud cry of his name. He follows shortly after, spilling inside you. He holds you close, as you listen to his breathing slow down as he drifts off to sleep while still inside you.
summary: You accidentally turn your super-soldier boyfriend into a needy, head-scratch-addicted monster. He doesn't want to talk about it.
word count: ~990
warnings: fluff, bucky being whiny
---
You were always on the hunt for new things to tease your boyfriend about. On a Friday evening, your favorite one quite literally fell into your lap.
It was movie night- you had your ankles crossed on the coffee table, taking up one (1) respectable couch cushion. Bucky stretched across the other two, head in your lap like the world's biggest house cat.
Somewhere on their journey toward the popcorn bowl, your fingers got lost in his hair. It wasn’t a fancy head massage- just rhythmic carding, over and over.
You stifled a giggle at the tiny sigh that left his mouth.
When the jumpscare hit, you flinched, and your fingers flew to your mouth. Which also meant they abruptly left (in Bucky’s opinion) their rightful spot in his hair. You decided to test him- tucking your hand behind your own head, out of reach.
He stiffened- slightly. Blinked. Cast an expectant glance your way. Then another.
It was too dark for him to see the smirk twisting your lips.
Four days later, you struck again. Worse, this time. You’d ducked out of the house earlier that afternoon to “run some errands.”
When you walked in the door, Bucky noticed immediately- your nails were done.
They were shiny. Oval-shaped. Slightly longer than usual.
Your fingertips brushed the back of his hand while handing him a grocery bag, and he swore he got chills right there.
Through dinner, he watched: you brushing a hand through your hair, running a finger over the curve of your glass, readjusting your necklace.
Your nails gleamed in the kitchen light. All he could think about was how damn good they’d feel in his hair, running line after line over his skin.
He offered to wash the dishes, which was normal- except this time, he added the one piece of rationale you needed to justify your hypothesis:
“So you don’t mess up your nails.”
Satisfied, you settled yourself on the couch to wait.
Ten minutes passed before you heard the click of the dishwasher closing, and then he appeared in the doorway. Silent.
Silence meant he wanted something that he didn’t want to ask for. Like you running your nails across his scalp.
You made a point not to look at him, biting back a smile at the way he hovered. He approached the couch, half a beat too slow, then swerved- parking himself on the floor, right in front of you.
“Buck,” you started. “Whatcha doin on the floor?”
He tilted his head back, wide blue eyes meeting yours.
“Nothing. It’s just…comfortable.”
“Uh huh.”
His gaze flickered- just for a millisecond- to your hand, inches from his head.
“I like your nails, by the way. They’re very…shiny.”
You bit, finally placing a hand on top of his head. His posture softened instantly.
“You do?” you mused, far too entertained.
You dragged your fingers through his hair and he practically slumped backwards into you.
“Mhm,” he murmured. The idea that something so simple could make your super soldier of a boyfriend melt like butter drew a giggle from your chest.
“Don’t laugh at me,” he ordered, though his words ran together like molasses. “‘S not funny.”
“You’re basically purring.”
He tried to say something defensive, but it came out as a sleepy mumble. You stayed like that for a few minutes, lazily combing through his soft hair. His eyes had slipped closed- not just that, his posture had entirely shifted towards you. Like a tree grown against the wind.
Then: “I’m gonna go get a drink.”
He let out a soft hum, clearly unaware of what you just said. You extracted your fingers from his hair and his eyes snapped open. He looked up at you like a kicked puppy.
“Where are you going?”
“To get water,” you actively tried- and failed- to keep the giggles out of your voice. “I told you, Buck.”
A comic book pout eclipsed his face.
“Something wrong?” you asked sweetly.
He shot you a look. You know exactly what you’re doing. His gaze followed you all the way to the kitchen and back, even though it meant he had to twist his head like an owl. When you settled yourself behind him again, he reached back and caught your wrist, placing your hand directly on top of his head.
“James Buchanan Barnes.”
“Hm?”
“Are you begging?”
A tiny jolt ran through him. “No! I just- it feels nice,” he sputtered. “and you’re good at it.”
He didn’t need to turn to see the wicked grin on your face.
“Okay,” he conceded, relaxing back into the cushions. “Maybe a little. Because you’re mean.”
You pulled your hand off his head. “Say that again.”
He turned his gaze up to you, flashing a dazed smile. “Say what again?”
You slid your fingers back into his hair and it pulled a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan from his throat.
“That’s what I thought.”
Over the next week, he developed what you’d mentally branded The Look™: forlorn, needy puppy dog eyes. It was ridiculous. Every time you sat down, he positioned himself within arm’s length- closer if possible. Then he’d flash The Look™, like an abandoned cat in an alleyway, and you’d comb your fingers through his hair. He melted instantly, every time.
Movie night again, and- no surprises here- his head was in your lap.
“Sam would never let this go if he found out,” you offered casually.
“Sam wishes,” came Bucky’s muffled reply.
You raised a brow. “Sam wishes what?”
“That he got head scratches,” Bucky said, utterly unashamed.
You cackled. “You are unreal.”
He tipped his head back, just enough to meet your eyes. “Yeah? And whose fault is that?”
Before you could answer, he nudged your hand pointedly back into his hair.
You gave in with a dramatic sigh. “I’ve created a monster.”
“Mm,” he hummed, eyes already closing. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Summary: Being forced to spend the holidays with Bucky when you get snowed in during a mission initially seems like the worst way to end your year, but the forced proximity, and reminiscing about 1930’s Christmases, has you seeing him in a different light.
Warnings: enemies to lovers vibes, snowed in forced proximity, specifically celebrating Christmas and Christmas traditions are mentioned for both Bucky and reader, only one bed where they wake up cuddled together
Word count: 4.3k
A/N: Happy Holidays to my @stantastic-association Secret Santa Abby @mcrdvcks I hope you love this darling and have a joyous festive season and a happy new year ♥️ dividers by @saradika-graphics & banners by @vase-of-lilies
Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library | AO3
Even the sound of him breathing from across the room is enough to annoy you.
That simple reminder of James Barnes' existence in proximity to yourself sets you on edge. His presence a static hum of irritation you can’t tune out.
It wouldn’t be so bad if you only had to put up with him for the span of a mission - that would have been an almost bearable seventy two hours or so, followed by blissful weeks-long distance.
But no. You were oh so lucky to have been tasked with staking out an enemy base in the depths of a freezing cold Siberian December. An unexpected blizzard simultaneously ruining any hope you had of spending the festive season with your family, and trapping you with Bucky ‘more-bitter-than-the-grinch’ Barnes for a yet undetermined number of days in what should be the most wonderful time of the year.
The thought that it could be January before you’re able to evacuate this tiny safe house in the middle of nowhere makes your heart sink, and brings you to tears at the thought of missing all the traditions your friends and family will be performing without you this year.
Though you ensure to blot away any stray tears from your eyes before allowing Bucky to see you. You can’t be showing the man who despises you any weakness.
Across the cramped space, which smells faintly of mildew and stale air, Bucky doesn’t look at you for he is far too engrossed in facing the dusty windowpane, monitoring the storm out the window. He hasn’t spoken a word since stomping back upstairs from rummaging for supplies in the basement, only to have found bags of rice, rolled oats, canned fruit, and legumes.
Not quite the holiday feast you would be having at home.
At least this means he doesn’t notice the redness rimming your eyes.
You choose the threadbare couch to mourn the loss of a joyous holiday spent back home, listening to the wind howl outside. The silence between you is heavy, thick with mutual detestation and the claustrophobia of your shared predicament.
“Stop.” The low, gravelly word breaks the silence, directed at your increasingly frustrated sighs.
Your turn to him, indignation bubbling in your stomach replacing the sorrow.
“Stop what, Barnes? Breathing? I can’t exactly stop this damn blizzard, so what exactly do you want me to do?” You snap in a harsh tone, one far too accusing given the situation, but James Barnes brings out an irrational vexation you’re unable to suppress. “Pretend I’m enjoying being trapped in a glorified ice box with the most charming person on earth?”
He finally tears his gaze away from the window, and his blue eyes are cold, reflecting back the snow.
“Stop acting like a child. We’re stuck here because of this damn blizzard and there’s nothing either of us can do other than carry on with the mission. Crying about missing your Christmas dinner isn’t helping anyone.” The callousness of not just his words but his tone rip through the very little patience you have remaining.
“Easy for you to say Mr. Immortal Grinch. Do you even have a holiday to miss? A family to go back home to?” The words are spoken in a fit of uncontrollable rage, and they’re off your tongue before you even have the chance to exert some semblance of control.
Regret settles like led in your stomach at the way his lip quivers. Bucky’s story, though he doesn’t talk about it much himself except for the occasional self-deprecating quip, is one that’s relatively well known amongst The New Avengers. Years in captivity, forced servitude, outliving any loved ones he had before the war.
Once you actually take a second to think about it, the holidays must be agonising for him, regardless of if he’s back at home in New York.
“Bucky, I’m sorry, that came out wrong-”
“No I don’t have a family to go back home to, is that what you want to hear? Now can you just leave me alone. I have a mission to finish.” Which you know is a lie because you both completed what you were sent here to accomplish days ago.
He turns to staring out the window again, though he uses none of the surveillance equipment within arms reach, only proving your speculation that there is no mission to continue with.
A wave of shame washes through your veins as you stare at his broad, muscular back, his shoulders hunched far more than before your insult. You contemplate moving to sit beside him and attempting to apologise again, because it’s clear as day your words cut deep, but Bucky has always known how to shut down any genuine human interaction, retreating behind his shell of stoicism.
No matter how many times you try to have a conversation with him for the remainder of the day, to say how you sincerely apologise, because even though the dynamic between you two has always been simmering with animosity, you have never actually wished him harm.
And now you’re the cause of his heartache, your own heart feels heavy.
That night Bucky doesn’t put up a fight with you taking the only bed in the cabin. The faint metallic clicks of the plates in his arm the only indication he’s still sat by that window as you drift off to sleep.
The next morning, Christmas Eve, brings no improvement in the weather nor Bucky’s mood. The wind still howls, though with less maniacal fury than yesterday, and Bucky’s posture is still rigid, sentinel in the way he gazes out the window in the lounge by the front door.
From the few rations stocked in the safe house, the only option is to make oatmeal for breakfast, ensuring to give Bucky an extra large serving as the start of your apology.
You silently hand him one of the two chipped bowls that can be found in the kitchen, sitting beside him, shoulders almost touching. He accepts the food without either a thank you or a complaint about it being the same boring contents as the past few breakfasts. He however does frown at the serving, which is noticeably larger than your own.
“I don’t need the extra.” He argues (because nothing you do is ever quite good enough for him), as he grabs his utensil and tries to spoon off a portion into your bowl.
“Your super soldier metabolism would say otherwise. Besides, I’m trying to apologise.” You retort, holding your crockery to the opposite side of yourself so Bucky can’t give you any. You’re not sure you can stomach any more bland oatmeal anyway. “What I said yesterday was out of line and cruel. I’m sorry. I was angry and self-pitying, and I took it out on you when none of this is your fault. You didn’t deserve that.”
The directness of your apology seems to disarm him, or at the very least it puts an end to him trying to offload his food. He stares at the sizable helping you’ve given him, and in that moment you can see his eyes soften.
“It’s fine.” He mutters, though the melancholy in his voice suggests the opposite. “You aren’t exactly wrong, I have nothing to go back to, other than Yelena and Bob back at the tower, but they’re not exactly filled with holiday spirit.”
“What I said is not fine.” You start as he takes a mouthful of his breakfast. “It must be so difficult living in a world without those from your old life who you loved dearly. And I know it’s going to hurt either way, but I thought maybe you’d like to talk about them? What was Christmas like for the Barnes family back in the thirties and forties? I’d appreciate whatever stories you have.”
You try to keep your tone light, unintrusive, friendly, hoping to draw Bucky out without pressuring him to share more than he is comfortable with.
Bucky turns the spoon over in his fingers as a smile grows on his face, a breathtaking grin which ages him backwards seventy years.
“Loud.” He says with a chuckle that brings a smile to your face. “And crowded. My Ma cooked enough to feed everyone in the apartment building, the door was always open and everyone would stop in for a chat and a bite. My sister, Becca, was even more trouble than me if you can believe it. She had a thing for bringing in stray cats, in particular in the winter and hiding them in her room until my Ma found them. And my grandmother…”
His smile turns melancholic, and for the first time ever you swear you see tears flood James Barnes eyes.
“Nana lived with us after Pops passed. Spoiled us rotten even though we had no money to our name. And her favourite thing was to teach us how to play cards. Poker, solitaire, piquet, 500, pinochle, you name it, she taught us. Christmas was her favourite because we’d sit around the table as a family to play, and she’d clean everyone out. Even my dad.” Though you can see the pain etched in his features reminiscing about his late family, there’s a new sparkle in his eyes you theorise is due to speaking about his loved ones aloud for the first time in the modern day.
You spend the next hour listening to as many stories as Bucky wants to tell. Not just about Christmas but how generous his mother was, even in such an unkind world, facing the Great Depression, she was a picture of strength and resilience. How one of the only times he saw her cry was when he told her he was being shipped out to England in 1943.
Then he is surprisingly kind enough to ask about the traditions you celebrate with your own family, and what they’d be doing right at this moment back home. And just as keenly as you listened to his memories, Bucky is all ears as you detail even the smallest and quirkiest annual routines your family has that it wouldn’t feel like the holidays without.
The cold, cramped cabin you’ve been confined to all of a sudden feels warmer despite being filled with the ghosts of Christmas past and the blizzard raging outside.
The next few hours pass in a peaceful, manageable truce. The usual snarky, cold shouldered Bucky Barnes you’ve come to know practically doesn’t exist now, and someone amiable, wearing a small smile, has taken his place.
As the early afternoon light starts to dim, having enjoyed the 6 hours of daylight the Siberian winter has to offer, Bucky stands with purpose, pulling on his parka and thick gloves, and picks up the axe by the fireplace, even though you’ve got an abundance of firewood.
“I need to check the perimeter.” He states, though he doesn’t meet your eye as the words fall from his lips.
You rise from your spot beneath blankets on the couch, a strange concern, panic, constricting your chest. What on earth is he doing?
“Barnes, don’t be ridiculous! It’s dangerous out there in the storm!” You protest, grabbing for his hand to pull him back from exiting through the front door.
Bucky glances down at your hand grasping his wrist, allowing the contact to linger a beat longer than necessary, before his eyes meet yours. The heat rising in your cheeks and the sudden contact with Bucky’s warm skin makes you feel embarrassed, forcing you to pull away.
“Are you worried about me?” He asks with that damn charging smirk you’ve always been baffled how anyone could fall for. But now it’s directed at you, it makes your cheeks burn hotter than the sun.
“I can’t have you dying on my watch, the other New Avengers would never forgive me is all.” Your voice comes out softer than your usual teasing tone when your words are directed at James Barnes. But when you look up and your gaze meets his again, you can tell by the look in his eye he knows you’re not telling the full truth.
“I’m a super soldier Tinsel, I’ll be fine.” The new nickname feels like a warm hug, an inside joke from a shared secret, a sign that he’s accepted your apology and appreciates you listening to his past.
Bucky smiles in a way you’ve never seen before, soft and affectionate, before tenderly chucking your chin with a scrunch of his nose, and confidently strides out into the snow storm.
You stand watching the closed door he walked out of a minute prior stunned by the lingering touch, the cute nickname, and open affection of the gesture. For a few minutes you pace around the living room waiting for him to return, but when he doesn’t, you find yourself needing to do something with your hands to stop fidgeting until you know Bucky is safe.
That’s when you get an idea for a homemade gift you can present to Bucky tomorrow that will hopefully bring a smile to his face on Christmas morning. So you race down to the basement to gather all the old cardboard boxes you can find and start cutting them up into rectangles, determined to finish before Bucky gets back.
It feels like an eternity before the one hundred year old man steps foot back in the cabin, and you’re about to yell at him for venturing out into a blizzard until you set your eyes upon what he’s returned with.
It’s a pine tree, about six and a half feet tall, bushy, its needles shimmering with ice, but it’s the perfect size to be displayed in the living room.
“It can’t be Christmas without a tree.” He smiles, placing the tree carefully against the corner of the room, looking to you for approval.
“James Barnes you are an absolute idiot!” You stomp over to him as he brushes snow out of his hair, ready to yell at him for how dangerous and reckless his actions were, and how a tree isn’t worth his life. But then he looks at you with such yearning in his eyes, and all of a sudden all your anger has dissipated. “But thank you, it’s beautiful.”
Together you secure the tree in place with some spare rope and scrap metal. Then comes the decoration. There is a distinct lack of Christmas ornaments in the safe house, so you improvise with old foil wrappers of muesli bars, carabiners from your tactical bags and strips of coloured electrical tape.
Bucky disappears to the basement for a moment only to come back with the largest metal washer he could find, and hands it to you to place as the shiny star on the top of the tree.
It’s the most chaotic, criminally ugly Christmas tree either of you have ever seen. But Bucky and yourself worked on it together through laughs, making new, although slightly odd, Christmas memories, and that makes it perfect.
While Bucky showers the day off him, you put the finishing touches to your gift for him, and hide the small, unwrapped present under a loose floorboard on a step down to the basement so he can’t catch a glimpse before tomorrow morning.
He glances suspiciously at you with damp hair in his eyes as you emerge from the basement, trying your best to plaster an innocent smile on your face.
“You should have the bed tonight, Bucky. I’m sure your back is sore from the last couple nights.” You offer, partly to distract Bucky from questioning your actions, but also out of an earnest concern for the sweet man who ventured into the snow to bring you a tree.
He’s shaking his head before you even finish your sentence. “You take the bed. I sleep better on the floor anyway.”
“I’m not letting you sleep on these freezing floorboards again James. I’m shorter and fit on the couch just fine. Take the bed.” It’s the first time all day that you’ve spoken to him with a harsh tone, the annoyance James Barnes historically brings out of you bubbling beneath the surface as he doesn’t accept your act of kindness.
“I insist Tinsel.” Bucky’s use of your new nickname, and the slight tilt of his head as he says it, softens your sharp edges.
“Barnes c’mon, I’ve had the bed the past few nights, just take it okay, you don’t have to be a gentleman.”
There’s an expression you’ve never seen from Bucky before that quickly passes over his face which you can’t place, perhaps a mixture of astonishment and an epiphany, but it’s masked by his usual deadpan expression before you can put a name to it.
“We’re both adults, right? The bed is big enough for two.” Bucky’s voice is hesitant as he proposes sharing the only bed in the cabin, as if he wishes to retract the statement as soon as the words are spoken into the crisp night air.
Your stomach does a somersault at the thought of sleeping beside Bucky Barnes. You of forty eight hours ago would never have entertained the possibility, but the Bucky who brought you a tree and shared stories of his family’s Christmases in the 1930’s seems like a completely different man to the cold, solitary one you’ve been butting heads with for the last few months.
And though you’re not sure it’s the most sensible idea given the situation, the reason you’re in Siberia at all is work, Bucky is the one proposing the plan - he can’t hate you that much, nor think it’s overly unprofessional.
It’s his soft, tired eyes that dissolve the last of your resolve.
“You don’t snore, do you?” Is your way of agreeing without needing to speak the words.
Bucky lets out a real, genuine chuckle at this, a deep, baritone laugh that nestles gently in your rib cage and tugs at the corners of your mouth.
“I’ve slept on my own for so long, I really wouldn’t know.” His voice is casual, so nonchalant, amused even about his own solitude that your heart can’t help but break under the weight of his loneliness.
He kindly allows you to choose the side of the bed you prefer, before tucking himself in beside you, whispering a quiet yet sweet ‘goodnight’ before turning his back to you, falling asleep rather quickly.
You’re sure his body was craving the comfort of a mattress.
You end up staring at the dark shadows on the bedroom ceiling for what feels like an eternity, wondering how on earth you got in this exact position after being isolated with Bucky for only a few days. You weren’t exactly civil with each other on the long flight in the quinjet over here.
He sleeps peacefully, and even though he doesn’t snore like a freight train, the rhythmical deep breaths which annoyed you earlier in the mission, now sound steady and comforting.
There’s an air of warm solace sleeping beside someone, even if that person is James Barnes. Despite yourself, you smile as you take a peak at his sleeping form, his slow breathing guiding you to sleep.
You don’t remember closing your eyes to fall into slumber, however, when you open your eyes for the first time in the morning, it’s not the cold space between you that you feel - rather it’s the lack of room between your bodies that takes your notice.
Bucky is still in dreamland, but now with a muscular arm slung over your stomach, legs cradling your own and chest pressed against your back. Where there was ample space between you last night, on complete opposite sides of the bed, there is now none. The warmth emanating from him is astonishing, your own personal furnace that utterly conquers the penetrating Siberian chill.
You try to convince yourself the only reason you’re enjoying this is because you haven’t been held in so long. You’ve been touched starved to the point of insanity because why else would Bucky Barnes holding you actually elicit a reaction of enjoyment?
You focus on the steady beat of his heart against your back, trying to rationalise the sudden, overwhelming peace you feel. It’s just survival, you tell yourself. Protection against the cold.
Because of the blizzard you have nowhere else to be, except cuddled up to a man that probably hates your guts, but Bucky isn’t awake yet to realise you snuggled even closer to him for comfort, so you do it anyway. You’re sure once he realises what his sleeping form has done, he’ll jump out of bed in a flash, disgusted at his unconscious actions.
It’s not like he has secretly been awake this entire time, savouring the comfort and tranquility of holding you in a warm bed while a snowstorm rages outside, anticipating the moment you wake up and pull away because he can’t find it in himself to do so.
When you wake for the second time that morning your stomach sinks in disappointment to find Bucky is no longer cuddled up to you. There should be no surprise at this fact, but the dejection forming as a lump in your throat is real nonetheless. The air immediately feels thin and crisp, any warmth provided by Bucky squandered by this everlasting blizzard.
With sleep still in your eyes, you find him near the stove, serving up your usual morning oatmeal, but today with some of the canned fruit dolloped on top.
“Merry Christmas Tinsel.” He finally says once he notices you staring, his eyes softening when they land on you.
The morning feels more intimate than it has any right to. Having slept in the same bed, at one point cuddled up with him, spending such an important day like Christmas together, and him preparing breakfast for you.
“You don’t have to keep calling me that, you know.” Is your way of deflecting from the surge of devotion you’re feeling for Bucky in this moment.
“Sorry, it’s stuck now Tinsel. No going back.” He smiles, genuinely and completely, the sight of which gives rise to pestering butterflies in your stomach.
You take a deep breath to settle your nerves, before accepting the chipped bowl he offers with an outstretched hand.
“Merry Christmas to you too, Barnes.”
The fruit provides a fresh taste to cleanse your palate, which is fast getting sick of the texture of oatmeal. But you eat quickly this morning in anticipation of giving Bucky his gift.
He stares at you oddly when you jump up from the seat at the table to grab the mystery package you stored under the steps to the basement.
“I made you a little something. Merry Christmas.” You feel a little silly as you hand him the unwrapped present, handmade playing cards that are all slightly different sizes and which you drew on with the black sharpie you keep in your tactical bag. But the bewilderment in Bucky’s eyes, how stunned he is that you would hand make anything for him, makes it all worth it.
“I know they’re just cardboard…” You start to downplay what you did for him when he doesn’t say anything right away, but he swiftly cuts you off.
“There’s no ‘just’ about them. I can’t believe you made these.” He flips through the entire set, as if he doesn’t know what cards make up a deck, but he seems amazed at every single one. “You really did this for me?”
“You said your Nana liked to play cards, so I thought that’s how we could spend this Christmas.” You focus on keeping your voice level, trying to ignore the frenetic hammering of your heart.
The gleam in Bucky’s eyes, the way he’s looking at you right now, feels so different to any other time before. You’ve been used to irritation filling his gaze when his eyes set upon you, but in contrast now, as he leans closer to you across the table, there is an exceeding amount of affection in them.
“This is the best gift.” He states, firm, heavy and sincere. “But I’m sorry, I didn’t make you anything.”
“Bucky you ventured out in the storm last night to bring me a tree.” You point toward the sparsely decorated tree in the corner, and you both chuckle at how absurd it looks. “How about we call it even if you teach me to play piquet.”
He hesitates with his answer for just a moment, admiring you as if he is finally seeing you in a different light, hands still holding the hand made cards gently, as if he’s worried he’ll ruin them somehow.
“I can make that deal, Tinsel, but I can’t guarantee not to wipe the floor with you.”
“Oh I see how it is.” You laugh, genuinely, something you previously didn’t think was possible on a mission with Bucky, but now feels like the most natural thing in the world. “Just deal the cards Barnes, I’m a quick learner, be prepared for a Nana style hustle.”
As Bucky deals the cards, he explains the overly complicated rules, but you're barely listening because of how his blue eyes gaze upon you.
You suspect after this shared experience, your relationship with Bucky will be forever changed. In the middle of a frozen nowhere, sharing a small, hot breakfast next to a ridiculously trimmed tree, the only thing you feel for Bucky Barnes is an all consuming warmth.
And perhaps, he feels that intimate, more than a friendship, fondness for you too.
My work can include heavy themes (such as sexual assault, abuse, panic attacks, death, toxic behavior, self-doubt, a little bit of smut, etc). Each chapter and fic will have their own warnings, but if anything might trigger you, be cautious!
If you are interested in reading the Bucky fics I loved on this app, check out my list of fic recommendations on my other blog @buckbuckbarnesstuff
If you'd like to support my work, here is my ko-fi ♡ (this is entirely optional, please don’t feel pressured)
˖°.ೃ࿔ October Writing Challenges 2024 ˖°.ೃ࿔
⋆⁺₊❅. Whumpcember Masterlist 2024 ⋆⁺₊❅.
✿ 2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist ✿
Winter Writing Countdown Masterlist
WIP Game / WIP Game / WIP Game / most recent WIP Game
♡ - personal fav
❂ - includes smut
☘︎ - fic with 1000+ notes
❃ - fic with 2000+ notes
ꕥ - fic with 3000+ notes
𐦍 𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 𐦍
Like a Phoenix (completed) [92.2k] ☘︎
Mercenary!Bucky x Princess!Reader
Summary: An attack on your palace thrusts your only hope for survival into the hands of a mercenary who is forced to protect you, all due to a vow he made many years before. Though, those are circumstances neither of you have chosen.
A Window Open to the Moon (ongoing) ♡
Roommate!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Adopting a kitten from the animal shelter was an easy decision for Bucky and you. But Alpine soon becomes the excuse you never needed to finally get close.
Beneath the Bones of the Land (completed) [40.5k]
Vampire!Bucky x Reader (Farmer Au)
Summary: Inheriting the old farmhouse of your grandmother, you move to a town that watches you from the fields and makes the pines lean too close, and it isn’t long before you begin to fear you’ll lose your mind the way she did.
𐦍 𝓣𝔀𝓸-𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓼 𐦍
1. Tangled ropes [8.2k] & 2. Beyond the Horizon
Sailor!Bucky x reader
Summary: A new sailor arrives at the docks amongst Captain Barton’s crew. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, the way he carries himself, or perhaps it’s the way his eyes are the echo of the ocean in color and depth. But something about him makes you want to untangle the ropes that seem to choke his spirit.
1. The ropes that bind me [13.4k] & 2. Bridge to your world
Fisherman!Bucky x Mermaid!Reader
Summary: Being a creature of the sea, you are bound to a life beyond the surface, always in sight of the human realm, yet forever out of grasp. But after centuries of this finned existence it’s a fisherman coming to the docks day after day that compels you to bridge the gap between your worlds, despite the warnings about humanity being ingrained into your kind your whole life. Will you meet the same tragic end as several of your sisters before?
1. In too deep [7.4k] ꕥ ❂ & 2. Different, this time [10.3k] ꕥ ❂
Fuck buddy!Bucky x Reader
Summary: After Bucky calls, and you come running, you end up locked in his bathroom, trying to get rid of the evidence that something hasn’t gone well this time.
1. All up in Flames [9.4k] ☘︎ & 2. Not the Time I Meant to Call You [10.7k] ☘︎
Firefighter!Bucky x Reader
Summary: You just want your toxic ex-boyfriend’s things to stop haunting your apartment. So you let your friends lit the match. But then the sirens come, and with them Bucky Barnes, who puts out more than just the flames.
1. His Name Was Never Just Bucky [22.8] ❂ & 2. Scatter My Heart [17.7]
Mob Boss!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Falling for a mysterious man has been exhilarating, until you discover his biggest secret and realize you’ve been loving the most dangerous man in the city. But can you run from a monster in his own home when his eyes and ears are everywhere?
𐦍 𝓞𝓷𝓮-𝓢𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓼 𐦍
Listen to your gut [2.8k]
Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader
Summary: Bucky is assigned on a Hydra mission. Letting him venture back in the lion’s den without backup sets a deep unsettling dread knotting your stomach. Drowning out logic and reason you beg him to stay.
Still on the list [14.1k] ❃
Frat!College!Bucky x College!Reader
Summary: Bucky Barnes, the infamous frat guy, known for sleeping around and throwing parties left and right, constantly invites you, out of all people, to all of them. His intentions though remain a mystery to you. Following a troubling event that leaves you shaken and anxious, Bucky is there to pick up the pieces. Stolen glances and exchanged smiles gradually blossom into a connection that goes beyond what meets the eye.
Casual Sweetness [2.3k] ♡ ☘︎
Roommate!Bucky x reader
Summary: You seek out your roommate and best friend Bucky for comfort after a girls night out leaves you shaken up.
Two [6.2k] ♡ ☘︎
College!Athlete!Bucky x College!Reader
Summary: Your friends Wanda and Nat drag you to a corn maze event at night. After a rather unpleasant encounter with Bucky, Sam, and Steve, you want nothing but this night to end. Unfortunately for you, you’ll have to find the exit first.
Latte (He)art [7.8k]
Barista!Bucky x Coworker!College!Reader
Summary: Your sweet coworker at the café you work at part time is the only thing able to brighten your day. So it’s only practical that he always ends up in the same shift as you.
Ocean’s claim [5.9k]
Lifeguard!Bucky x Amateur!Surfer!Reader
Summary: Seeking a thrill, your friend Natasha convinces you to go surfing during stormy weather conditions - a bad idea as you come to experience.
Pirate Nights and Pumpkin Lights [1.7k]
Modern!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Bucky and you take Morgan, Billy, and Tommy trick-or-treating on Halloween.
Weakness [7.2k] ꕥ
Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader
Summary: You use Bucky’s only weakness to your advantage until it bites you in the ass.
Like he means it [13.6k] ꕥ
Roommate!Bucky x Reader
Summary: You can’t take another night of hearing Bucky fuck a girl who isn’t you.
Creamy or Crunchy [3.7k] ♡ ꕥ
Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader
Summary: Bucky joins you grocery shopping to everyone’s surprise.
Supposed Distraction [7.6k] ꕥ
College!Athlete!Bucky x College!Reader
Summary: It’s Bucky’s birthday and you and your friends are planning a surprise party. That leaves you with the task to distract him while the others prepare.
Small gesture, Big meaning [3k] ☘︎
Tfatws!Bucky x Shield!Reader
Summary: Sam and you prepare something for Bucky’s birthday with the little you can scrape together.
Change your mind [6.5k] ❃
College!Athlete!Bucky x College!Reader
Summary: Natasha drags you to an NYU baseball game. And despite yourself, one player catches your attention.
A Thousand Times Before [16.5k] ꕥ ♡
Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader
Summary: Bucky travels to an alternate universe for the sake of a mission. But he doesn’t expect to come face to face with a version of you that loves him, completely and openly. Back in his own world, he is left with a truth he can’t keep to himself anymore.
A Soft Place for a Soldier to Fall [5.2k] ❂ ❃
Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader
Summary: Bucky doesn’t know how to sleep, how to let go, how to be touched softly. But tonight, you show him.
What The Sea Takes [4.3k]
Pirate!Bucky x Siren!Reader
Summary: You’ve lured men to their graves and turned death into an art for centuries. And when Captain Barnes comes along, you don’t hesitate to take him and claim him as your own.
Rulebook and the Rebel [5.6k]
Bucky x Reader (camp counselor au)
Summary: You are always careful. Always in control. But one slip is all that it takes for one of your girls to vanish into the woods. And someone won't let you forget it.
One Inch Deeper [7.3k] ❃
Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader
Summary: You can’t stand to watch him get hurt. He can’t stand to watch you risk your life for him. In the end, both of you are right - and both of you are bleeding for it.
We’re All Just a Little Haunted [10k] ☘︎ ♡
Biker!Bucky x Reader
Summary: You don’t like haunted houses. You don’t like Bucky Barnes either. But one bad jump-scare later, both of those things start to feel complicated.
Downtime [5.3k] ❃
Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader
Summary: After a hilariously avoidable gym accident, you try to hide the fact that even Avengers get hurt off-duty. But unfortunately for you, Bucky isn’t easily fooled.
𐦍 𝓓𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼 𐦍
Paranoia [1.4k] ☘︎
Avenger!Bucky x reader
Summary: Bucky comes home to an unlocked door - his mind convinces him something horrible happened to you
Learn his way [1.5k]
College!Bucky x College!Tutor!Reader
Summary: Bucky is more interested in learning about you than biology
Five days, Five bouquets [1k] ♡ ❃ + A Home for Now [2.8k]
Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader
Summary: Five days of a fake marriage. Five days of Bucky bringing you flowers.
Dare Me to Live [1.4k]
Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader
Summary: Somehow, you worm your way into Bucky’s controlled world with your chaos, your laughter, and your love for living. And he stays. Every time.
“Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.”
→ premise: if bucky was a pill then you were an addict and you wanna show him just addicted you are.
→ pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader
→ warnings: smut | 18+, cock piercing [jacobs ladder piercing], cock worship, nicknames [sweets, little one], oral [m receiving], small face fucking
→ a/n: kinktober 07
Now to say you were obsessed would be an understatement, you were addicted, captivated by your boyfriend Bucky Barnes. He didn't really understand why, often telling you he didn't deserve all the affection and attention you gave him. Therefore you were determined to show him your level of devotion as well as show him just how infatuated you were with him.
“Just lay back baby and let me worship you” you started explaining to Bucky in a soft tone as an attempt to calm his nerves. Lightly you push at his chest so that he backs up, his calf’s hitting the edge of the couch causing him to tumble back. He feels his whole body fill with heat at the look on your face as he falls back onto the couch. Your pupils blown, eyes lidded and glazed over in sheer lust, tugging your lip between your teeth, almost stifling a small moan at the sight of him. He leans back putting his hands out on the plush cushions, on instinct his thighs widen in a man spread. The new position giving your eyes perfect access to rake over his body, taking in the hard lines of his muscles that peaked through his tight Henley. As you soak in his state, his body responds, hips bucking up as his cock grows hard, his jeans and boxers becoming uncomfortable.
His nerves set afire once again as you sensually and slowly sink to your knees in front of him, your hands landing on his knees and traveling up his thighs to run over his bulge. “Sweets you know you dont have to do this” his cheeks flush in embarrassment as your tongue darts out to swipe over your top lip, you were practically salivating. Now Bucky wasn't the type of man to say no to a blow job obviously but he didn't feel deserving of being ‘worshiped’ as you called it.
“James Buchanan Barnes, shut up and let me appreciate my sexy ass boyfriend and his pretty cock, please?” Your voice comes out sassy and authoritative until the last word practically morphs into a plea. Your fingers are already working at undoing his belt buckle and the button to his jeans. He was growing more and more desperate for your mouth the longer the teasing went on.
“Mhmm yeah can definitely do that for ya’ little one” he rambled out, frantically nodding as his breathing grew heavier. You smile up at him in gratitude, your hands pulling his leather belt out of the loops and peeling his jeans down his legs. He lifts his hips up to aid you, his bulge finally feeling relief from its confines when you strip him of his boxers right after. His cock bouncing free and lightly hitting his toned stomach, a sigh falls from his lips as you take in the sight of it, making his stomach tighten and flip. He wasn't used to being admired in this way, the feeling unfamiliar but not unpleasant. His tip reddened and begging for attention as it leaks precum, your mouth watering as your eyes catch when the light hits his frenum piercings. 8 of them in total, one for every inch line the underside of his shaft making up his jacobs ladder piercing. To make it easier on you, taking all of him during your first time together he had you count each piercing as you felt them push inside you.
While you're lost in that memory, your eyes are still appreciating and committing the sight of his cock to memory as if you haven't seen it a hundred times by now. Bucky lifts your chin up with his thumb and forefinger, hunching his body over to lean down and press his lips against yours in a sweet kiss. Prolonging the intimate moment with you on your knees, he cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb under your eye in a loving manner. You hum into the kiss, your body melting at his touch before you pull away, him returning to his previous position.
Your tongue pokes out of your mouth, dragging down his shaft hitting each piercing as it goes. He sucks in a breath, hands gripping onto the edge of the couch cushions to refrain from just jumping to the end with him fucking up into your hot mouth.
“Fuck sweets” he hissed out when you kiss and kitten lick at his balls before licking back up the side of his cock. You grip the base of him while licking at his tip causing his cock to twitch in your hand before you sink your mouth down on him. “Shit~ just like that little one, oh god” he groans out as his head falls back, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. Bucky knew there was no chance of him making it to heaven when he passed but he knew if he did there was no way it’d feel half as good as this.
He softly moans out when you hollow out your cheeks and suck, your tongue running on the underside of his tip. Bucky lifts up his shirt giving your hands better access to rub along and roam his body. Nails starching at his v-line as you sink your mouth further down on him, taking his cock to the base in your throat, counting each barbell in your head. bucky can feel his balls tighten as they sit full of cum, he was already getting close. “S’good sweets, fuck” he breathed out as he rests his hand on the back of your head. He felt heavy as he sat in your mouth, his piercings cold on your tongue.
“Mhm~ please little one, can i fuck your mouth?” He begs, normally he wouldn't ask but he didnt know how much longer you wanted to extend your worship of his cock but he didn't think he’d last much longer. You hum around him in response as a ‘yes’ bracing yourself by grabbing onto his thick thighs. “Thank you, thank you oh fuck” a long string of curses leave his lips as his hips gradually start bucking up, thrusting his cock into your mouth, your spit spilling out and pooling at the base of his cock as your jaw goes slack to accommodate him fucking your thorat.
“Worship me whenever you want little one, this cocks all yours anyway sweets.” He groaned out, his hips flattering in rhythm as the knot in his stomach was about to snap. It would take a while before Bucky felt deserving of your adoration and worship but if this was one of the ways you planned to show it, he could get used to it.
→ a/n: this wasnt proofread and it was rushed as always, its also being posted later than i wanted lmao kinktober is low-key starting to drain me but fuck it. It’s been giving me issues with this post showing up in tags too so im annoyed with it lol.
Summary: Your first time with Bucky should've been sweet, intense, maybe even kinky - but when he abruptly stops and tells you that he "can't do this", your heart is broken.
Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader
Genre: Slight angst, fluff
Word count: 1.4k
A/N: Was randomly thinking about sex with Bucky, as you do - and thought, realistically, could he feel nervous about having sex for the first time with someone he cares about after (presumably) decades of no sexual activity at all? This fic is what I think that would look like
Your heart was racing. You had never felt so nervous before, not even when you first lost your virginity years ago and awkward, fumbling, uncomfortable sex had ensued.
This was different. This was your first time having sex with someone who you actually, truly loved. This was sex with Bucky.
You sank back into the pillows of your bed, your hands gripping his firm biceps as he moaned against your mouth gently, setting off a chemical reaction from within your core. He was laying on top of you, hands planted in the mattress on either side of your head to prop himself up as he kissed you deeply. He was careful not to place too much of his weight on you, though you were desperate to feel more of him, caged in between his arms.
You loved how safe he made you feel, how gentlemanly he was in every other aspect of your relationship - but right now, you were ready to be devoured. You wanted him to show you exactly how ungentlemanly he could be. You wanted him to make you unravel, wanted him to fuck you so hard that you wouldn't even be able to string a sentence together. You were barely coherent right now, unable to think of anything else besides Bucky and how you needed him inside you as soon as possible.
You tried to pull him even closer, desperate to touch every inch of him. Your fingers reached down for his belt, hungry for more friction, for more skin-on-skin contact. You were absolutely burning for him, the last few weeks of sexual tension finally snapping until you simply could not take it anymore.
You were so caught up in your own desires that you didn't even register the first tendrils of hesitation emanating from him. The first signs of Bucky tensing up as you reached beneath his shirt, hands pressing against his abs. Your fingers teased the hem of his jeans, running against his pubic bone.
He broke the kiss, giving you an opportunity to eagerly kiss his neck. You whined gently, willing him to take off your clothes, trying to grind your pelvis up against his. You wanted him to touch you, to explore every inch of your body as you explored his, to consume you.
Your sex-addled brain finally registered that he had stopped moving, and you frowned slightly in confusion as you pulled back to study him. His expression was one of hesitation, his eyes distant.
"Bucky?" You whispered, cheeks flushed as you tried to ground yourself. "Everything okay?"
He swallowed, tendrils of his long brown hair falling in front of his blue eyes. He couldn't bring himself to look directly at you as he suddenly pushed himself upwards, moving to sit on the side of the bed and straightening out his rumpled black t-shirt.
"Hey - what's wrong?" You asked again, scrambling to sit up and scoot towards him. Your hand reached out to his forearm, and he flinched. Your face fell.
"I can't do this," he said quietly, still refusing to look at you. "I'm sorry." He stood abruptly without saying anything else, shaking his head to himself before he raced out of the bedroom.
Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. You felt tears sting in your eyes as the emptiness of the room swallowed you up, anxiety racing through you and rapidly replacing any excitement that you had been feeling just moments before.
The weight of his rejection physically winded you. You balled your hands into fists as you tried to regulate your breathing.
What the hell just happened?
Insecurity reared its ugly head. You had been so nervous but excited to take the next step in your relationship with Bucky, had imagined hundreds of times how it would go - this was not what you had envisioned.
Had he simply changed his mind? Was the thought of seeing you naked repulsive to him? What could have made him suddenly up and leave like that?
Did he suddenly see all the flaws within yourself that you had seen all along?
No. No. It wasn't like that. You knew Bucky wouldn't think of you that way.
But why else would he leave?
You felt humiliated. You fought back the tears, willing yourself not to cry. You felt so vulnerable right now, alone in your bed, in the disheveled clothes that you had been so desperate for him to peel off your body.
One of the things you prioritized the most in a relationship was communication. And you loved Bucky, but damn it, he wasn't the best communicator. He often clammed up with how he felt, and was generally more of an actions speak louder than words kind of guy. However, you'd be damned if you were going to let him just walk off like that.
You composed yourself and jumped off the bed, padding out of your room and into the hallway. You could hear him in the kitchen, and you took a deep breath before going to face him.
He had his back to you, a glass of water beside him. You knew he could hear you approach, but he didn't move.
You cleared your throat anyway, leaning against the kitchen doorway.
"Bucky? Do you want to tell me what's going on?" You asked, his rejection still rolling over you in painful waves.
He didn't say anything, but he finally turned to look at you. He looked upset, his lips pressed together in a thin line. He looked guilty when he saw your expression.
"If - if you don't want to have sex, if you're not ready - that's okay," you mumbled. "I didn't mean to rush it." You pulled at the hem of your shirt, looking down at the floor, suddenly embarrassed.
"No," he said abruptly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's - that's not what it is."
You didn't say anything, silently imploring him to continue.
"Is it me?" You blurted out finally when he didn't speak.
"What?"
"Is it..." You gestured awkwardly at yourself. You weren't sure how to frame the words. You didn't think you were an insecure person, but in a situation like this, you couldn't help but entertain the idea. "Is it something I did?" Or something I didn't do? Be sexy enough, alluring enough?
"Hey." You looked up when Bucky suddenly moved towards you, taking your hands in his. "You didn't do anything."
You looked at his eyes, trying to find the truth. "Then what is it?"
He sighed, tongue darting out to lick his lips. He was nervous, his mouth opening and closing silently as he tried to find the right words.
"It's...it's been a long time," he said finally, almost wincing at the confession.
Huh?
You frowned, taking a moment or two to finally piece the meaning together.
Oh. Oh.
"Ah," you said, eyes widening. "Right."
"I've not - I haven't had sex in decades," he grunted, his jaw clenching. "Literally. I was just...feeling nervous. Don't wanna disappoint you."
You tried to imagine how you would feel being intimate with someone for the first time in years, and quickly pulled Bucky into an embrace. To your relief, his arms wrapped around your waist, his nose burying into your hair instinctively.
"You could never disappoint me," you said firmly. "We'll take it slow, okay? At your pace."
"I don't want you to think that I don't want you," he said gruffly. "I mean, god, if you knew the thoughts going on in my head. If you knew the things I wanna do to you."
Your cheeks warmed as you felt the heat suddenly begin to build again. He gripped you tighter, one hand lifting to stroke the back of your head.
"M'sorry for running out like that. Just got spooked. I want it to be good for you."
"It's okay," you said reassuringly. "Bucky, listen to me. We're a couple, and I'm nervous about our first time too. But - " you leaned back and pressed a kiss to his lips, "- I know it will be amazing."
He returned your kiss, breathing you in deeply. You could practically feel him slowly relax as you reassured him.
"I know I shouldn't have handled it like that," he murmured. "I'm stupid."
"You're not stupid," you laughed. "You're the sweetest man I ever met, Bucky Barnes."
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you felt him smile against your skin.
"And, if you're nervous, maybe I'll just take the reins," you said teasingly. "Show you a thing or two."
He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. His hands suddenly grasped your waist, pulling you flush against him.
