!clingy bucky who, at first, swears up and down that he isn't clingy. that no, he just so happened to be sitting beside you on the couch - he didn't mean to lean his cheek against your shoulder. and he certainly didn't mean to end up on top of you. it was an accident ... or so he claims.
!clingy bucky who learns your routine under the guise of it being pure coincidence. when you're getting your coffee in the morning, he's in the kitchen too with a boyish little grin and a, "morning doll" like he hasn't been waiting for you to enter the kitchen. when you're tying bandages around your knuckles to get ready for a sparring session with natasha, bucky's suddenly there helping you - even though you've definitely got it covered. when you attend a debrief with the others, even if bucky hadn't been involved with the mission, he's there right beside you.
!clingy bucky who can no longer sleep without the feeling of you curled up either beside him or laid out on top of him like some human-sized weighted blanket. if you happen to be an active sleeper - moving around at night or simply tossing and turning to get comfortable - bucky is … let’s just say … not the happiest of campers. the moment he registers that your body is no longer in his arms, he wakes like someone’s just alerted him that you’ve died. shooting up, eyes open, hands moving with minds of their own. and you? you’re only a few inches away from him, still sleeping - snoring, even, though he won’t tell you that. he reaches out, arms around you, hauling you back against his chest and grinning like he’s won some big prize when you snuggle instinctively into his hold.
!clingy bucky who smiles and perks up like an excitable dog whenever he hears your voice. he could be sitting in the common room with sam and steve, playing their usual game of poker with the only deck of cards in the compound, when he hears you laugh at something that natasha’s telling you about her latest recon with clint. he pauses, his hand nearly spilling onto the coffee table as he turns his head and strains to listen to you - wanting to bottle the sound and keep it in his pocket. sam and steve both tease him, of course. but what does he care? you’re laughing, and it’s the greatest sound that bucky’s ever heard. well … that, and the way that you say his name.
!clingy bucky who can, and will, pout if you don’t kiss him at least once before leaving bed in the morning. otherwise, the rest of the team is treated to a very grumpy bucky - snapping at the littlest of things, grunting instead of giving straight answers, the full dramatic experience. and the pout that he wears? furrowed brows, a jutted out bottom lip, the absolute works. but the moment you approach him in the kitchen and press that soft little kiss to his cheek … gone. dissipated. like he was never pouting in the first place.
!clingy bucky who has accidentally made a habit of following you around when you return home from any kind of mission. even if it's a simple recon that has you returning home within the same day - bucky won't let you out of his sight for anything more than a second or two. it's as if he's a guard dog attuned to your every movement - where you are, the rest of the team could expect to see bucky too ... in fact, they anticipate it.
!clingy bucky who, no matter which way you try to spin it, is the most clingy man that you've ever met. but he isn't clingy in a way that feels suffocating. it isn't overbearing or overwhelming, it isn't too much. it's soft, it's warm, it's loving in a way that proves just how much bucky trusts you - how much solace he finds in you. he sees you and sees love, he sees you and sees warmth, he sees you and sees the one thing that he can't live without.
the sound of your voice immediately has him turning, body melting like candle wax being burned. you're dressed softly, wrapped in a henley that certainly wasn't yours with socks that rolled at around your mid-knee. you smiled when his eyes met yours, and something in his chest unraveled at the sight.
"why're you up, dollface?" bucky asks, his voice barely a whisper as he crosses the distance between where he stood and where you did. his arms came around you once he was close enough, thumbs brushing your hips and nose dipping down to brush against your own.
you hum, your arms curling around his neck. your fingers toy affectionately with the hairs at the nape of his neck, twirling the elongated strands around your fingertips before letting them fall softly against his skin. he purrs, or rather, he lets out a hum that you've come to affectionately call the "bucky grumble".
"the bed was cold without you," you reply, voice warm. "plus, figured you could use some company." he smiles at that, eyes folding at the corners as he drinks you in. his thumbs slip beneath the henley - his henley - the pads of his fingers brushing against your skin.
"sorry," bucky mumbles sheepishly, dipping his head down to press his lips to your cheek. you smile, and he takes that as incentive to press another kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth.
you smile the entire time, bright and unguarded, unafraid of who stands in front of you. where the world saw the winter soldier, you simply saw bucky. the man who made you coffee when you were too tired to function, the man who tucked you in at night and didn't sleep until you did, the man who loved you so fiercely that it sometimes overwhelmed you.
"you missed."
"what?" bucky's eyebrows furrow, his nose scrunching in that adorable little way that it sometimes does when he's silently frustrated. you laugh, a tiny breathy sound that loosens something in his chest.
"i said, you missed." your voice drops to a whisper, fingernails tracing the nape of his neck, earning a shiver from the burly super soldier. you smile, tilting your head so that your lips brush his.
he grins, wide and boyish in that way that shows how unguarded he's become around you. how safe he feels when he's around you. not in the way that he felt safe around steve or sam - though they were both beacons of trust for him. no, this safety with you was different.
this safety was warm hugs and tender kisses. this safety was late-night talks and cups of tea that tasted like home. this safety was a love that bucky never thought that he would have. him. hydra's pet. the winter soldier.
bucky's grin softens into something more akin to a smile as he gazes at you, eyes half-lidded and heart swollen with a warmth that spread from his head to his toes. "can't have that, now can i?" he murmurs, one hand lifting to cradle your cheek.
you tilt your head into the palm of his hand, his thumb brushing affectionately against the apple of your cheek. his eyes flicker down, lingering on your lips for a brief moment before his gaze returns to yours.
his breath fans against your lips as he leans in, kissing you with all the softness and overflowing warmth that blooms somewhere deep inside of his chest. you kiss him back, arms drawing him closer until his chest presses flush against your own.
he kisses you slow, like it's the first time all over again. even then, he'd held you just as softly and reverently as he is now. your face cradled in his hands, your arms around his neck, your body against his like it was made to fit against his own.
you kiss him until your throat burns with the need to breathe, and even then you're reluctant to pull away. when you do, bucky's lips chase yours, only making your mouth pull upward into a dopey, lovesick smile.
"come back to bed," you murmur, sleepiness woven into the depths of your tone. bucky nods, eyes flickering down again before he steals another kiss, somehow softer now than the time before. you return it, lips curved against his own in that smile that he wishes he could commit to memory.
"okay," he replies against your lips, pulling back just enough for his nose to brush against yours again. he rubs the tip of his against yours in a brief eskimo kiss, drawing a laugh from your chest.
"someone's lovey tonight."
bucky grins, a small sheepish thing. the apples of his cheeks dust a light shade of pink, hidden by the night's shadows. but you see it, you see him.
"yeah, well," he pauses, leaning down to kiss your cheek again, lingering there like he's trying to pour all of his love into you. "you make it easy." his voice is a reverent whisper, and something inside you burns hot at the sound of it.
you smile, eyes meeting his. the blue of them so soft that it unravels you then and there. they're folded at the corners, crow's feet wrinkled against his skin. "i love you, buck."
he ducks his head, nosing at the crook of your neck. his arms tighten around you, drawing you closer. against your skin, you could feel the curve of his smile, followed then by the breathy little, "i love you, too," that he mumbles against you.
you stay there for a minute longer, wrapped in the unconditional warmth and love that was bucky barnes.
your bucky.
always, your bucky.
wc : 949
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listen, as someone who also has an aversion to physical touch because of things that have happened in the past, i understand that bucky wouldn't be a man who primarily shows his love through physical affection.
but what i do believe is that once bucky realizes that he's safe with you, that your touch brings comfort instead of hurt, that he feels safe instead of feeling like he needs to keep his guard up constantly ... he clings.
like, i'm talking in a feral-cat-who-realizes-that-maybe-you're-okay kind of cling.
like, i want you to picture this ...
you're not even really doing anything - just curled up in the communal living room with a book in your hands. it's some new romance novel that not only wanda had been raving about, but natasha too. that was what had peaked your interest, because natasha romanoff didn't do romance.
out of the corner of your eye, you could see bucky in the kitchen rummaging around in the cabinets. you don't know what he's looking for - or if he's even looking for anything at all, considering that he keeps sneaking glances at you like he can't quite believe that you're just ... existing.
a small smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you turn a page, adjusting slightly on the couch and tucking your feet beneath your thigh.
that's when bucky enters the living room. his footsteps are silent, as they usually are, but you glance up once he's a few inches in front of where you sit on the couch.
"hi, honey."
he doesn't say anything, just drops himself down beside you close enough that his thigh brushes against yours. you glance at him fully once he's comfortable, seeing the tightness in the muscles of his jaws - like he's restraining himself from something.
you return your focus to your book, adjusting your finger where it had been resting against the last sentence that you'd read.
it only takes a few seconds for bucky's cheek to find your shoulder, followed then by the entire weight of his body leaning against your side. you smile, fighting the urge to shake your head while bucky continues to try to fuse his body to the side of yours.
"comfy?"
he hums, but his fingers tug at the hem of your shirt - a silent ask. you sigh affectionately, dog-earing the page that you had been reading and setting the book on top of the coffee table.
you shift onto your back, glancing at bucky with one raised eyebrow before lifting the hem of your shirt, revealing the skin of your stomach. his eyes light up like a little kid on christmas, and he immediately begins to burrow his way beneath your shirt.
a small laugh tumbles from your parted lips as you wiggle in an attempt to accomodate the sudden burrowing of a six-foot, two-hundred-pound super soldier who's suddenly decided that underneath your shirt is the safest place in the compound.
the satisfied hum that rumbles up from bucky once he's comfortable is adorable in more ways than one - mostly because now he sounds like a cat whose just found his new favorite sleeping spot. his stubble scratches lightly against the soft skin of your chest, his hair poking through the collar of your shirt while the rest of his face remains hidden.
"you're ridiculous," you whisper, though you're already setting your book aside in favor of drawing lazy patterns onto bucky's back through the fabric of your shirt.
he doesn't answer, just nuzzles in closer as if you had intentions of pulling away. his arms tighten around your waist, his cheek presses harder against your chest, and he even has the gall to slip one of his long legs between yours, effectively pinning you completely to the couch.
"you love it." he sounds pleased with himself, voice slurred with the soft pull of sleep that makes his eyes half-lidded when they flicker up to catch your gaze. your lips quirk, and you lean down to kiss the top of his head - the only part of him you can really reach while the rest of him remains buried.
you roll your eyes, but there isn't any bite behind the gesture. because he's right ... you really do love it.
sypnosis - you promised him that no matter what happened to him, you would always find him. he hadn't thought that you were serious, because who would care about him that way?
wc - 1.6k
it was one of those restless nights when you had said it to him.
you had found him sitting in the common area, eyes hazed over with that distant look that he always seemed to get whenever he got a little too lost inside of his own head.
there was a cup of tea in front of him, but judging by the lack of smoke, he'd let it go cold before ever taking a sip of it. maybe he brewed it for the warmth, or maybe he brewed it just to have something to do with his hands.
you didn't know, and you wouldn't ask. asking sometimes resulted in him retreating further, and sometimes, you couldn't follow him. it was easier to leave those things unspoken - at least then, you could help without him flinching.
"buck?"
he turned at the sound of your voice, drawn to its softness and the way that it unraveled whatever knot had tied itself inside of his chest. those stormy eyes met yours, and something in the depths of yours softened.
he was tired.
"hey, honey." his voice was rough around the edges, which he tried to smooth out by clearing his throat. but you heard it, you always did. you didn't draw attention to it, simply smiling and walking to sit beside him.
you briefly pause before lowering yourself onto the couch beside him, a silent question asking if his space was yours too. he nodded. you sat. his pinkie brushed yours. you let him take it with a smile.
"bad tonight?" you asked softly, adjusting your body as he leaned into you. his cheek found the curve of your shoulder, and your cheek found the side of his head.
he remained silent, closing his eyes and letting his pinkie curl tighter into yours, squeezing like he himself couldn't believe that you were real - that you were sitting beside him. like you were a ghost he made up to make himself feel better.
"okay." and you went silent. he got braver, his hand turning and closing over yours, holding it gently - almost reverently. it made your smile soften, made your body relax and lean impossibly further into the curve of his own.
a beat passed. then another, and another. until, so quietly that it almost didn't break the silence, bucky spoke. "i don't know why you do that."
"do what?"
"find me."
that made your head turn, eyes flickering over the pinch in his expression. you couldn't tell if it was guilt, regret, or shame - or maybe it was all three wrapped up into one.
he lifted his head from your shoulder, his eyes meeting yours before falling - shame. your chest tightened, your hand lifted, and softly, you laid it against the side of his face, guiding his gaze back to yours with a love that only you could ever give to him.
"you listen to me," you said, voice firmer now. bucky's spine straightened, and a twinge of guilt flared up in the depths of your stomach. but it was doused immediately ... because he needed to hear this, and he needed to hear it from you. "i will always find you."
that tugged at him. not because of what you said, but because of how you said it. you meant it.
his eyes watered, but neither one of you said anything about it. instead, his arms - one cool and one warm - wrapped around you. his face found its home in the crook of your neck, and your cheek found the side of his head for a second time.
"i love you," you whispered into the wispy strands of hair that lightly tickled against your skin.
he didn't respond, but the way that his arms tightened around you told you everything that you needed to know.
"we're officially declaring him m.i.a.," fury says from the head of the table, eyes daring to flicker in your direction. you inhale quietly, those three little letters already igniting something in you. maybe it was love, maybe it was anger, maybe it was -
your thoughts pause as a hand finds yours, and for a brief moment, you let yourself believe that it's bucky. but you know that it isn't, and when your head turns, your eyes find steve's.
"we'll find him," he says, then turning his head and meeting fury's eye, "his last known location?"
"wilson said they lost communication while he was somewhere in the alps," fury responds, to which sam nods his head and hums approvingly. you could feel the guilt radiating from him from where you sit, but you don't blame him.
your only focus is on him, and fulfilling a promise that he hadn't fully let himself believe.
"you're awfully quiet," natasha murmurs, bumping her shoulder against your own as she lowers herself into the quinjet seat beside you. your jaw works, throat closing momentarily over the lump settled in its base before opening just enough for you to respond.
"just thinking."
"we'll find him," natasha says with a nod of her head, eyes softening as your gaze drifts and finds its way to her own. her lips quirk, but the smile doesn't touch her eyes - what was there to smile about anyway?
the moment that the quinjet touched down, you were on your feet. nobody - not steve, not natasha, not sam - commented on your swiftness, nor did they comment on your silence. they knew what bucky meant to you, they knew what this meant to you.
the interior of the hydra archival base was the same as every other that you had raided - hollow and abandoned. the halls dripped with a past heavier than your own, the walls whispered stories that you had only ever read about in blurry, typed mission files.
steve had given instructions on the quinjet, not that you had honestly been listening. something about getting in and out and cleanly. but there was nothing clean about what had led you here. they took him. they returned him to a place that still haunted every action, every word, every reaction.
and that was enough for you to ignore instructions.
"i've got a heat signature on the second floor, east wing." sam's voice crackles over the joint comm unit. you turn your head, eyes lifting to read the scratched lettering into the wall in front of you - floor 2.
your fingers find the earpiece of your comm unit. "copy."
"careful," steve says in that tone that was so captain america that, for the first time since fury's debrief, you smile. just a tiny little twitch of your lip, but a smile nonetheless.
you turn, gun raised, footsteps silent as you trek down the hallway. as you walk, every sound feels amplified, burying its way under your skin like termites digging into foundation.
"i don't know why you do that."
"do what?"
"find me."
teeth grind as you clench your jaw, and your footsteps pick up just the tiniest bit of speed. the hand curled around your gun tightens until you're white-knuckled. a sharp exhale falls from your nose as you hear the sound of restraints rattling - silver and heavy.
the first room is where you find him.
knelt on the floor like a dog left behind, chained and bruised and bloodied.
he lifts his head when you enter, eyes hazy and expecting something - someone - that certainly wasn't you.
"bucky."
the faintest bit of clarity returns to his eyes, his brows parting in relief as his body recognizes safety ... recognizes you. his lips part in a sigh, his body angling towards you as you close the distance between you and between him.
your hands are gentle as they free him, arms lifting and pulling him into you. he curls into your lap, his head finding home in the crook of your neck while his arms weakly wrap around you. but when they do, his fingers dig into the back of your tac gear, pressing you against him.
"i've got you," you whisper tearfully into his hair, trying your hardest to hold back the tsunami of emotions threatening to pull you completely under. your arms tighten around him, eyes closing as you inhale the scent of gun oil, vibranium, and him. "i've got you, bucky."
that night, with all of his wounds patched, you sit quietly with him in your shared bedroom. he hadn't spoken much since you returned to the compound - and in truth, neither had you.
but it was comfortable. it was soft. it was home.
he's curled against your chest when he manages to find his voice again, and even then, it's muffled softly against your collarbone. but you hear him, you always do.
"you came to find me," he says it almost like he doesn't believe it. like maybe your rescue had been a figment he made up to cope with being taken again. but then you tighten your hold on him, fingers momentarily stilling where they had been lightly tracing shapes into his back.
you tip your chin downward, meeting eyes that had already been locked onto you. the corners of yours crinkle in a smile, and you lean down to press a small yet lingering kiss to the small furrow right between bucky's brows.
"i promised you," you remind him, voice soft but laced with a reverence that bucky still didn't believe was directed towards him. he was the winter soldier, a gun with the safety permanantly flicked off. but here you were, cradling him like he was something precious - like he was something worth protecting.
his eyes soften, his body sags, his head returns to its spot just below your chin. you smile as you feel the slight scratch of his stubble where it rubs against your skin.
"yeah," he whispers, arms tightening around your waist as he tilts his head inward and presses a kiss against your skin - soft and fleeting. "you did."
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OMG I JS READ SAFE WITH YOU ITS SO GOOD!!!! could u please please (only if u wanna and are free) write one where reader and bucky have underlying feelings for each other and are out in a safe house. maybe reader gets hurt and bucky slips and tells her how much she means to him!!
i'm such a slut for this trope, you read my MIND anon.
keep leavin' requests, i love seeing how y'all's minds work!!
you hadn't meant to push bucky out of the way when the building exploded.
you really, truly hadn't.
especially because when it came to bucky barnes, you weren't supposed to care. not even a little bit. you were supposed to hate him, and he was supposed to hate you.
maybe it was instinct, or maybe it was something else - you didn't know. what you did know was that you had successfully prevented bucky from losing every other limb on attatched to his body ... even if you didn't fully understand why.
he screamed your name the moment that your hands pushed against his chest. not an angered yell, not even an exasperated one - no, bucky sounded scared.
he sounded like his entire world was crumbling down around him. you'd never heard him sound like that before, not even when steve took a nasty hit from a hydra rogue, not even when sam's wing pack malfunctioned and he nearly fell 150 feet from the sky.
bucky's arms were around you before your body had the chance to meet the ground, lifting you up despite your pained groans that sounded more like unspoken protests.
"shut up," he growls down at you, but you can hear the tremble in his voice - the waver that he tries to hide but fails miserably. "just ... for once, shut the fuck up."
you listen, but only because the edges of your vision begin to spot. the world starts to tilt, the thumping under the shell of your ear becomes static in your brain, and everything feels floaty, like everything is just out of reach.
the last thing that you hear before letting your eyes flutter shut is bucky saying your name again, his voice cracking on the shape of it in his mouth.
the first thing you hear when your eyes open again is ... well ... bucky again. but his voice cracks with something else now - relief.
his hands are on you, one beneath the back of your head to keep your neck elevated and the other curled around your waist, keeping you lifted on his lap. everything in you aches, and you can smell the faint metallic tang of dried blood. whether it was yours or his, you didn't know.
but what you did know was that, for the first time, bucky barnes, the winter soldier, was terrified.
"you with me?" he asks gruffly, trying once again to hide the shaking of his voice. but you hear it.
"m'here," you slur, voice hoarse and throat scratchy. a cough rumbles up from you, and bucky adjusts, tilting your head just enough for you to cough out whatever had gotten stuck in your throat.
bucky stays silent, watching you until your breathing evens back out. he lowers you again, letting you rest in his lap. it's then that you realize how he'd set up the safehouse; a roaring fire to keep the chill at bay, a pillow tucked beneath your body even though you were resting on top of him, and dimmed lights so that your eyes weren't assaulted upon opening.
he was ... taking care of you like you were something precious.
"thought you," you pause to wince, rolling your leg only to be met with a stabbing pain. "thought you hated me, barnes."
"i never hated you." the response comes too quickly, too sure. like it was something that he'd been sitting on but didn't know how to properly articulate.
you pause, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he shifts, adjusting you again even though you didn't need it. he notices the furrow to your brows, and without thinking, uses his thumb to smooth it out. the touch is achingly tender, and for a minute, your breath is punched out of your chest.
he was supposed to hate you. so why was he cradling you like he loved you?
"could've fooled me," you murmur.
bucky sighs, his shoulders slumping as he looks down at you. now that you were looking at him - really looking at him - you could see the storm of emotions present behind those baby blues.
regret, guilt, anger, concern, but above all, relief.
"i - fuck - i never hated you," he repeats himself, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before they fall again, suddenly interested in the blanket tucked beneath you. "you scared the shit out of me, seeing you go down like that and i just -"
you remain silent, though the teasing remark lingers on the tip of your tongue. you hold his gaze even when he doesn't meet yours - and for some reason, your chest gives a little tug at the lack of eye contact.
"i can't lose you."
he says it so softly that you barely hear it, and you're honestly surprised that you hear it at all. your eyes widen a fraction, and you know that he sees it because the tips of his ears turn a soft shade of pink.
neither of you say anything for a long moment, one that stretches far too long to even be considered comfortable.
"what?"
"god, i -" he pauses, throat working as he swallows down the lump in his throat. "i can't lose you."
you wince, pushing yourself up from his lap and turning to face him completely. he still doesn't meet your gaze, looking everywhere but where you stare at him. his expression undoes something in you; his jaw is clenched, his shoulders pulled taut with tension, and his eyes stormy with everything that he obviously can't say to you.
"bucky."
"don't -"
"look at me."
he does. and the expression on your face undoes something in him too. the way your brows are pulled together, the way your hands shake like you're fighting with yourself against the idea of holding him, the way the worry in his eyes is mirrored perfectly in your own.
you inhale quietly, glancing down at one of your hands before reaching out. you wait for bucky to pull back, and when he doesn't, you slide your fingers into his own. he remains as still as stone, staring at you now like it's the first time.
"i'm sorry," you whisper, swallowing past the shake in your voice - though you know that he can hear it anyways. bucky opens his mouth, likely to say something in response, but you cut him off before he can.
"i can't lose you, either."
those words snap the last bit of self control that bucky had been holding onto. his hand leaves yours, and both of his palms find either side of your face, drawing you closer until your lips crash against his own.
your hands fist in the front of his tactical gear, lips working against his own as one hand slides behind your head to cradle the nape of your neck, deepening the kiss so naturally that your heart begins to race.
he pulls back after a few seconds, breath harsh against the front of your face. he doesn't draw back far, his forehead coming to rest softly against your own. his eyes close at the contact, and you pluck up the courage to let your hands fall to his thighs, resting your palms against them.
"don't do that again," he whispers breathlessly, his words fanning against your face. you smile, a mixture of teasing and genuine.
"if it gets me a reaction like that," you pull back just enough to meet his gaze, and this time, he holds it. "then i'll start shoving you a lot more often."
despite himself, bucky huffs a laugh, pulling you closer until his lips brush yours again. "you're still fucking insufferable, huh?"
"you love it."
"yeah," he murmurs against your lips, his smirk becoming a smile. "i do."
